#politicians i’d like to stab

[what-shitfuckery-is-this-ew]

HAPPY CAESER STABBY STABBY DAY

Politicians tread carefully

[polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup]

in my defense, i was like 90% sure u already knew what banana fish was and i thought u would call me out on my bs right away. i did have a moment of panic when it turned out that u didn’t so 🥺

Hahaha it’s totally fine. I’ve actually never heard of it before today but I did start watching it because of this because I was curious. I like it so far

[myreia]

DIVERGENCE OF THE HEART

CHAPTER ELEVEN: HEART OF STONE

Chapter Rating: Teen Characters: Aureia Malathar (WoL), Aymeric de Borel, Thancred Waters, Hilda Ware Pairings: Aureia/Aymeric, Aureia/Thancred, Thancred/Hilda Chapter Words: 2,851 Notes: Set during the Heavensward patches. Summary: Aureia Malathar may have made a name for herself in Ishgard, but her deeds come with a hefty personal toll. Despite her victories at the Grand Melee she has never felt more unsure of herself. Her relationship with Thancred—the person she thought knew her the best—is strained, yet she cannot abandon him. Aymeric is falling for her harder with each passing day, yet she cannot bring herself to accept it. All may be fair in love and war, but at least war is predictable. Love on the other hand… Chapters: 1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • 6 • 7 • 8 • 9 • 10 • 11 Read on AO3

They leave the Borel Manor in silence.

Hilda sets an easy pace, striding with purpose, head held high. She huffs when her long ponytail catches on her jacket collar and pulls it out, flipping it behind her. Her carbine rests heavily on her back, the metal looking all the more worn in the bright sunlight. It is uncommonly bright today, not a cloud to be seen. Aureia can’t remember a sky so clear since the day Haurchefant died.

“I suppose thanks are in order,” Aureia says. She isn’t sure what she wants to say to her friend, but something is better than nothing.

Hilda flashes her a sympathetic smile. “Any time.” They walk a little further, their pace slowing as they turn onto the Pillars’ main thoroughfare. The Vault dominates the skyline, its soaring spires reaching up to the heavens. “You know, Aur, I’m not going to pry into personal matters, but you all right? You seem a little…”

She gestures empathetically, leaving the word unsaid.

“I’m fine.”

She arches an eyebrow, but does not press. “So, I understand dinner went well,” she continues, flashing her a grin.

“Dinner? I—” Aureia blushes. The dinner feels like an age ago. “It was nice.”

“Mhm.”

“It was! What’s that smile for?”

Hilda’s grin widens. “Can’t I be happy for you?”

“You’re teasing me.”

“I’m teasing you because I’m happy for you.”

They round the corner and patter down the stone steps into the Jeweled Crozier. The marketplace is bustling, the midday sun drawing out the crowds. Highborn and lowborn both stand shoulder-to-shoulder, pursuing merchants’ wares with flushed faces and bright eyes. Considering the stringent Ishgardian social divide, it is heartwarming to see them gathered here. Perhaps Aymeric’s reforms are finally making change.

Hilda catches the eye of a large, beefy Elezen loitering in a corner. She gives him a cheery wave and his face breaks into a wide smile. Chortling to herself, she pulls Aureia through the street, weaving their way through the chattering crowd.

“So,” she says, her eyes dancing mischievously. “How was it?”

“How was what?”

Hilda clears her throat and shoots her a knowing look. “How was it?”

“Oh!” Aureia’s flush deepens. She may as well have lit herself on fire from the way she is burning. “Good.”

The dam breaks in her chest, relief rushing over her. Somehow confiding in someone other than Aymeric, someone normal without the concerns of the Ishgardian aristocracy, relieves the stress and worry she has been building in her head. There will always be politics involved in this relationship, she knows that, but Hilda brings a relieving sense of perspective. “It was good. Nice.”

She chortles. “See? I knew you needed someone to help take the edge off.”

Aureia smirks. “Yes, well… Aymeric is quite good at that.”

“Is he now? Fury, I’d hope so, considering he’s been pining after you for moons. I reckon I’ve never seen a man quite in love with anyone as he is with you. One would think a politician wouldn’t wear his heart on his sleeve.”

She pauses, a spike of annoyance stabbing her in the gut. Though the words are different, the point is familiar. Too familiar. “Been talking to Thancred?”

Hilda shrugs. “Saw him in brief last night.”

Her heart pangs, an open, heavy throb. She doesn’t want to think about what that means when who he spends his time with doesn’t matter to her. So why—after everything—does she still care? “At Saint Vaindreau’s Grace?” she asks.

“Aye,” she replies. “At Saint Vaindreau’s Grace. Alphinaud’s little sister is well, if you were wondering.”

Aureia makes a face. “Best not let Alisaie catch you calling her little or that might be the end of you and the Hounds.”

Hilda snorts. The crowd thins and they exit the market, passing below grand sweeping arches as they follow the curve of the street down, down, and down again. Aureia’s legs ache. Why this city was built into the slope of a mountain, she will never know.

“Right,” Hilda says after a moment, throwing her ponytail over her shoulder once more. “Reckon I should have told you sooner considering the two of you are friends and all, but here I was thinking it wouldn’t amount to much in the first place—”

“What would?”

“A bit of fun.” She shrugs again. “Getting a bit bored, if I’m honest.”

Aureia holds her tongue and stares dully ahead. Foundation’s tenements rise high around them, casting the road into shadow. The flagstones are slippery here, puddles clinging to the stone where the sun has not yet hit.

“I worry for you Scions, you know. So concerned with the fates of gods and men, do any of you give consideration to yourselves? It’s hard work, ain’t it? Championing the belief in a better world. Eorzea needs good folk like you, just as Ishgard needs the likes of Ser Aymeric and the Brume needs the likes of the Hounds.”

“Where’s this going, Hilda?”

“I’ve never seen a man quite as wretched as he was last night. Blamed it on guilt over the little sister’s injuries, but I reckon there was something else on his mind. Now this is none of my business, but did something happen with the pair of you?”

“You could say that.”

“Let me guess, he was a fucking fool, yeah?”

Aureia pauses, eyes wide.

Hilda grins at her, eyes shining with mirth and understanding. Linking her arm with hers, she resumes her purposeful stride. “Did you really think I wouldn’t have your back, Aur?” she says. “Listen. If you want my advice? Fuck him—”

Aureia chokes, laughter bubbling out of her. Her shoulders shake and she leans into Hilda for support. This is not where she thought this conversation would go.

“Maybe not literally,” Hilda continues, her lips twitching with amusement. “Definitely not literally, the man is a mess.”

“I know.”

They exit out of the shadows and turn down another street, heading for the Forgotten Knight. Aureia’s stomach is growling. It will be good to return home, take whatever food Gibrillont has on offer, and touch base with Tataru. She will no doubt know the logistics Alphinaud and Count Edmont have planned.

Guilt twinges in her gut. Though some tiny part of her is proud of putting her personal life first for once, she chose the wrong night to do it. In a way, she has let them both down. She hates to imagine Alphinaud, pale with worry about Alisaie and with dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep, taking command of the situation and formulating the plan. Too often logistics have come down to him, and while she trusts him with her life, he shouldn’t have to shoulder that burden alone. Edmont, too, has stepped up in her absence, playing his role as the responsible and generous noble benefactor.

She’s being too harsh, she knows she is. Edmont is a good man. House Fortemps will always stand by the Scions. She should be grateful for that. If he hadn’t offered, Alphinaud or Aymeric would have asked for his aid regardless. No airship can make its way to Xelphatol. The only way up the mountain is to fight their way through hordes of Ixali and the Fortemps knights are well-trained in that regard.

“Aur.” Hilda’s voice interrupts her thoughts, gentle but firm. They have reached the foot of a bridge, its span arching across the twisting city streets. “I should take my leave. Take care, yeah?”

Aureia smiles.

Hilda unlinks her arm and pulls her into an embrace. “Me and the Hounds will be waiting for you when you get back. Drinks on us this time, the whole crew. Don’t keep us waiting for long, you hear?”

She chuckles affectionately. “I hear.”

“Good. Say, you should stop by the Skysteel Manufactory sometime. I think Stephanivien would be pleased to me you, give you a lesson or two in how our firearms work. I reckon you’d make a fine machinist.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“If you ever feel the need to shoot something, say the word.”

Hilda releases her and draws back, a mischievous smirk on her face. She raises a hand in farewell and departs, disappearing across the grand thoroughfare. Smiling to herself, Aureia sets a foot on the bridge and climbs. There are few people about, and those who are pay her no heed. The sun shines brightly, the wind all but calm. If she didn’t know better, one could say it is as close to a spring day as Ishgard can get.

A shadow waits for her at the apex.

Her heart plummets. Thancred’s figure is unmistakable as he leans against the thick stone railing, arms folded across his chest. He watches the thin foot traffic with a narrowed eye, his eyepatch returned to its customary place. The hilts of his dual daggers glint in the harsh light. She doesn’t need to ask what that means—he is prepared to escort her to Camp Dragonhead and beyond, if needed.  

A creeping sense of déjà vu settles over her as she crests the bridge. She brushes it aside and squints, shielding her face with a hand. A day ago, she would be annoyed—angry, even. Now she feels nothing. Anger would be better than nothing.

“Thancred.”

“Aureia.”

The faint breeze tugs at her hair. She slows to a stop a foot away, arms folded and hands tucked into her armpits. She must keep things civil. Treat him normally. Perhaps if they pretend nothing happened, they can keep their working relationship intact. “How is Alisaie?” she asks.

“She dances on the edge of consciousness, straying in and out,” he replies curtly. “But the chirurgeons report that she has taken to the antidote well. She will recover. It is only a matter of time before she is on her feet once more.”

“I see. Is someone with her now?”

“Tataru has relieved us of infirmary duty, if that is what you ask.”

Her jaw clenches. “I only wanted to know if someone she knew was nearby. I would hate to be in her shoes, awaking in a strange city, no friends in sight. Or worse, a Fortemps brother.”

A measly, half-hearted joke. One made at the expense of Artoirel and Emmanellain. Haurchefant would chastise her gently for it. Gods, what is wrong with her?

He snorts. There’s no retort. No witty repartee. Instead, he stares intently at the bridge and the tenements beyond and the mountains beyond that. There’s a terrible yearning in his face, desire turned desperate. He may be here physically, but his mind is elsewhere. Ishgard is no place for him, not after his year in the wilds. Then again, perhaps there has never been a place for him. They both once called Ul’dah home, but it rang true for her in a way it did not to him. A city of import, yes, but he was only ever a passerby. He is a wanderer, always on the move. If he could up and disappear now, where would he go? He vanished and found Alisaie. Perhaps he will do something of the like again. Yda and Papalymo are still missing after all.  

Her heart pangs with grief. It has been so long since they were all together, gathered in Minfilia’s solar at the Rising Stones. A different age. A different life. Even should those who remain be reunited, it will never be the same.

“You were not at the meeting,” Thancred says.

She grimaces. “I wasn’t aware there was a meeting.”

“Perhaps you would have had you not disappeared.”

“Perhaps I should be free to go where I please and not where I’m expected. I’m not bound hand and foot to the Fortemps Manor.”

“Quite. Though you are not above aristocratic hospitality when another manor has caught your eye. Or so I hear.”

How the hells…? Not even day. Not one day and already he knows. Not one day and already he is judging her. Does his envy truly go that far? Did he expect her to chase him down at the infirmary after what happened in that alleyway? He gave her leave not to. He told her that if she did not come, that would be the end of it—

There it is. The anger, surging up out of her like a burst of mana.

She bites her tongue, desperate to keep her temper in check. How easy it is to simmer in her fury. Anger is powerful. Addictive. It is satisfying to ride the waves of her righteous anger, to give into it utterly. But behind the pleasure lies exhaustion.

Why is she angry? What does she blame him for? Fucking her friend behind her back? What happened between him and Hilda isn’t any of her business. The misguided kiss the night before? She fell for it as much as he did, it would be hypocritical to fault him for it without blaming herself. The cold shoulders and bitter remarks? Natural responses to the way she needles him. If he knows exactly where to press to make it hurt the most, she knows, too. Perhaps even better.

To try to unravel who wronged who first is impossible now.

Her heart seizes. It is as if a hand has reached directly into her chest and wrapped its fingers around it, squeezing tight. “I’m sorry,” she manages, the words rasped and raw. It isn’t good enough.  

“Thank you, Aureia darling—”

She scowls at the epithet, but says nothing. Either he forgot her request or he has ignored it on purpose.

“—I am certainly not the one who merits an apology. That would be Alphinaud. From what I hear the poor boy almost made himself ill with worry. For someone who fancies himself quite the leader, he was certainly discomforted with the notion of planning this endeavour without your gracious input.”

“Well, then I’m sorry for making Alphinaud uncomfortable.”

“He wished to stay at his sister’s side this morning. But a Scion’s presence was necessary, and so a Scion attended.”

“And you could not have attended? Your presence is as valuable as mine. If anything, you have a far more tactical mind than I.”

He glances sharply at her, brows drawn together. “A tactician? Hardly. Not after the mistakes I’ve made.”

“Give yourself more credit. You have a plan. I’m the person they send in to execute it.”

A pained look crosses his face and he turns away, dropping his gaze to the ground. He stares determinedly at the flagstones, shuffling his weight from foot to foot. She half expects him to shove off and abandon her then and there.

But he remains. Restless and fretting, deep concern plain on his face, but he stays all the same. For her.

“I know,” he says after a moment. “And I know how heavily the burden weighs on you.”

She pauses, hand brushing the hilt of her rapier. “I’ll stop them. I promise. I haven’t forgiven them for kicking your ass in Dravania—”

“Hey now.” He makes a face and runs a hand sheepishly through his hair. “I seem to recall events quite differently. I dealt them a blow that time, not the other way around.”

His fingers catch on the knotted tail at the nape of his neck. She remembers all too well what it felt like to rake her fingers through his hair, the elated feeling of tugging that tie free. A memory she should set aside along with that blasted kiss.

Her feelings for him are a dead end. Unwanted and unjustified. Why should she chase the fleeting remains of their broken friendship when Aymeric—good, kind Aymeric—is in love with her? He offers her something that Thancred is incapable of giving. She cannot relinquish her one chance at happiness. Not when she is with someone who has shown her so much grace and compassion. She can’t imagine anyone doing for her what Aymeric did last night.

She is lucky to have found such fervent love in this bitter, wretched world. It may never come again.  

There is nothing Thancred can give her. No desperate touch can mend their relationship, no fervent kiss can restore them to who they were that night in the waterways. If he wanted her then—if he loved her then—he should have said it.

It is too late now.

She exhales a long breath. “If you say so.”

Aureia and Thancred fall silent, neither one keen to look the other in the face. The bright sun beats down on them, happy and hopeful, oblivious to the tension between them. To the outside observer they may be no more than passing acquaintances engaging in idle small talk, awkwardly waiting for an opportunity to exit the conversation. But to someone with a keen eye and an ironshod heart, they are no more than two sides of the same coin bent on moving in divergent directions.

This is an ending.

It will be a long time before either of them understands the truth of it.

Notes: I’ve had this fic spinning in my head off and on since January 2023 and I’m really happy that I’ve finally been able to bring it to fruition. Aureia and Aymeric near and dear to me—even though they have their issues and it’s not going to be an easy ride since the fundamental problem with their relationship is that he loves her more than she can love him in return. I’m excited to explore more of their dynamic in the future; they have a whole saga throughout the rest of Heavensward and all of Stormblood and I’m ready to dig my teeth into it. As for Aureia and Thancred... there will be a few more bumps in their journey before they get there. Thank you so much for reading! This is my favourite fic I’ve written in a long time, I’m very happy with it. I hope you enjoyed. 💖

[moonbreezes]

wait George Villiers was a shitty person? what did he do?

Hi! I’d like to preface my answer to this question by saying that I’m not a historian (I have a degree in linguistics and literary studies), and all of my information comes from doing a lot of research regarding George on my own, therefore there might be a lot more info on what exactly he did or did not. So if there is someone more knowledgeable about this, please correct me.

What George Villiers did, and, quite frankly, how his career had gone could be described by a line reportedly spoken by Queen Anna of Denmark to Abbot, the archbishop of Canterbury (and Pembroke), two people who worked together to install George in James’s bedchamber as a favourite “You and the rest of your friends know not what you do. I know your master better than you all, for is this young man be once brought in first person he will plague must be you that labour for him.”

As opposed to the previous favourite Somerset (Robert Carr), Gorge was deeply ambitious as he not only wished to enrich himself while in favour, but he also wanted to become an important player in the political sphere. (If I dare say so myself, I believe, that his time as a politician, would not be half as bad if he had received a proper training. Tho he was undoubtedly a shitty, to put it mildly, person) He knew that key to his success was the affection and love of the king as he could literally take everything that was given to him and make him once again the poor George that he once was. (I really do not want to talk about their relationship as it would take more than a sentence to summarise it). Thans to how rapidly he climbed the social ladder and received more titles and positions at the court which in turn allowed him to have actual sway in the country’s internal and external politics. Geore was also keenly aware that apart from the royal favour he needed connection to face his opposition (the ancient families of England). So patronage, it was something common (even now). He installed his immediate family at the court and secured them positions, (mmm nepotism), the marriage market was also fair play as George slowly but surely arranged marriages for people in his family, win-win situation.

Addressing his now growing family, his wife – Kate Manners, became one as he possibly kidnapped and raped her. (There are some rumours that he “what-a-surprise got locked” with her in one building so after that they just had to get married.) It was a marriage for the money she could bring, and the connections did not hurt either, a nice bonus, one might even say. He also made a deal with Edward Coke to marry off his daughter (her mother protected her fiercely) to his brother. It is said that she cried during the ceremony.

In lieu of the theme of nepotism, as he slowly transformed the royal bedchamber into a place of the de facto lawmaking. He packed every place possible (to an extent) with people what would back him up. For that he was notoriously selling patronages, titles, and land, especially in Ireland where law did not hold him so much. Literally whenever the parliament tried to remove him from power because of how badly (Imo he would have done much better if he had training and not just gone with the general fuck around and find out rule.) he did his job, and people were fed up with him. He started a whole 20D chess match with Richelieu which was pointless, started a few campaigns that ended with him often not paying the soldiers (I mean no one would stab him to death over such thing… right), the last one being a pointless siege that only made England loose troops and money. (He could have one that one, he was so close to it, but he had to celebrate the possibility of victory rather than making people sing papers). He enraged the protestant England by helping to offer help France with fight off Protestants. What else… oh yes, he almost sa’d Anne of Austria which just… mmm the flavour of historical silencing of women, misogyny and men who just have dick measuring contests because.

Tho what I do not believe, and what many line up with, is that he did not poison James (or at least wasn’t aware of doing so??) because I think that he would gain more from helping the king survive than just killing him.

Sources

Bellany, Alastair, and Thomas Cogswell. 2015. The Murder of King James I. New Haven: Yale University Press.

Cogswell, Thomas. 2017. James I (Penguin Monarchs). Penguin UK.

Lockyer, Roger. 2014. Buckingham. Routledge.

Stewart, Alan. 2014. The Cradle King. St. Martin’s Press.

Veerapen, Steven. 2023. The Wisest Fool. Birlinn Ltd.

[betterbooktitles]

My wife and I got married in the Hamptons of Cleveland, a small gated community an hour south of Buffalo called the Chautauqua Institution. A year later, steps from where we had danced to a Beatles cover band, someone stabbed Salman Rushdie. 

I worry Chautauqua will be known for that attack someday. When I tell a friend where we were married, will I see their face change in subtle recognition? Will it become like saying you went to Columbine High School but graduated years before the shooting?

Probably not. The Chautauqua lore is so rich that it’s unlikely to be known for any single event. It’s been praised by the New York Times for being a spiritually and intellectually satisfying retreat, and bashed in the New York Times for its Boys’ and Girls’ Club, the oldest children’s day camp in the country, one that still separates the sexes. 

“Chautauquas,” according to the first few pages of Zen and The Art of Motorcycle Maintenance once littered the United States. Intellectuals toured the country giving lectures during the Lyceum Movement, an experiment in adult education for the masses. Chautauqua, New York was the flagship community and is also one of the few Chautauquas that has survived.

An entire page of my sophomore American History textbook was devoted to Chautauqua. Writers, politicians, comedians, and essayists all traveled on the lyceum circuit to get their message out to the world. William Jennings Bryan was likely the most exciting speaker, a man who I first heard about in the play Our Town where the Stage Manager excitedly tells the audience that “Bryan once made a speech from these very steps here.” Thanks to my family’s yearly vacations in Chautauqua, I too had seen some steps where Bryan had once made a speech. Exciting stuff. I was walking through a page of my history textbook every summer.

Though I knew the place was somewhat famous, Chautauqua’s history often seemed embellished. Once, a nice white-haired lady walking past me on the road, unprompted, pointed at a patch of grass beyond the institution’s fence and said “You know, Amelia Earhart landed her plane on that golf course once.” Sure she did, lady. Then a few days later, I’d found myself in the Chautauqua library staring at a giant black-and-white photo of Amelia Earhart standing on the Chautauqua golf course. It’s near a few photos of FDR in front of the Chautauqua Opera House. 

It’s difficult to describe Chautauqua to the uninitiated. I happily let my wife describe it for others whenever the subject comes up: “It’s the set of Dirty Dancing.” Aside from the fact that it’s not in the Catskills and the spirit of the place is a little more centered on intellectual/spiritual edification, it is exactly like the set of Dirty Dancing, complete with a treelined lake, an enormous hotel, and a house full of actors and dancers at one end of the grounds who let loose, partying every night to the wee hours (10 PM) when everything in the Institution closes and strict quiet hours are enforced. Women can even take Ballroom Dance classes with young men, though I get the sense that both parties are a little more puritanical than Swayze and his students. Unfortunately, also like the movie, thanks to a few speakers from the Heritage Foundation, there are also several Chautauquans who like Ayn Rand.

For the kids who grew up going to Chautauqua every summer, it was a giant playground. We went during Week Five of the season consistently and became fast friends with anyone our age. Boys’ and Girls’ Club hours went from 9 AM to noon, and from 2 PM to 4 PM so parents could attend talks or a pottery class while the kids were playing dodgeball and rehearsing for Air Band (a lip-syncing competition for all club attendees). Because the Institution is safe compared to nearly every place people visit from, the kids roam free. They have carte blanche to do whatever they please during daylight hours. We biked, ate mountains of ice cream, or played ping pong for hours when we weren’t at club playing GaGa Ball, a game where you hunched over and used your hands to hit your opponents’ ankles with a volleyball.

Read more here.

[thedawnofcrime]

I had already written out a long post that probably breaks Tumblr’s TOS, so I’ll shorten it up a bit.

If you aren’t already aware, Brianna Ghey, a 16 year old trans girl, was brutally stabbed by two 15 year old kids near Manchester England this week.

These children, one girl one boy, are monsters for what they did, and as a 16 year old trans girl myself, I say with little exaggeration that I would have both of them locked away in a 4x4x4 foot box for the rest of their pitiful lives (not what I initially wrote). However that would not solve the problem here. The problem here is that grown, vile excuses for humans, are telling these kids it’s okay to brutally murder their peers if they are in a minority they don’t like.

In place of a long rant about how sickening these people are, I’d like to jump to my call-to-action. If you are witness to a journalist, activist, politician, or other powerful person telling their audience the lies that got Brianna Ghey stabbed, I implore you to do whatever you can to show that they aren’t welcome on Earth, and that we don’t want them here.

If you don’t mind getting fined, spit in their ugly faces, spray them with cold water in the middle of winter, yell obscenities at them through a loudspeaker directly into their ears, throw a bucket of pigs blood on them. If they can knowingly get children killed, then they can take a little abuse.

If you don’t want to get arrested, then harass them through social media and email, every day you can. Don’t just send “you suck, kill yourself”, as these awful people probably get that every day. Instead send them links and statistics. Hard, undeniable proof that what they say can make children murder other children, or far more likely, have innocent kids kill themselves. I don’t care if they’re a primary school teacher. I don’t care if they’re a single mom. I don’t care if they run a charity food drive. You cannot be truly good, while contributing to the murders of children.

I live in a rather safe neighbourhood as far as this horrible type of discrimination goes, but I can’t just ignore all the horrible things that happen to trans youth around the world. I will not let people forget about the children they’ve killed until the day I’m rotting in the cold damp ground. If you ever receive the opportunity to tell an influential transphobe, racist, whatever, that they are responsible for the deaths of hundreds of innocent children, do it. Anything to convince them even slightly, that they are doing something wrong.

Edit: never mind, fuck TOS. If I were given the legal opportunity to decide the punishment of those two kids who murdered Brianna Ghey, I’d have them formally executed by fatal injection. Leading up to this date they’d be put in a windowless cell where they can’t know the day or time. The press claims that there isn’t sufficient proof to label this as a hate crime, though I think any dumbass with some semblance of common sense or empathy can deduce that this was rooted in a vile hatred of transgender people. So yes, I’d absolutely put these fuckers through psychological torture for that. It’s sickening to think they’re the same age as most people in my grade, and decided to stab and kill a girl of their own free will.

[sweetarethediscords]

“Fool Me Once” - Part 3

Pairing: Kacchako, Bakugou Katsuki/Uraraka Ochako

CW: Cheating, Underage Drinking

<- Previous Part | From the Beginning

~~~~~~~

“Jeez, Bakugou,” Frog Face croaked. “You don’t look so good.” 

Katsuki stabbed his chopsticks right through the heart of the egg yolk in his bowl and swirled its golden blood into his gohan.

“Are you sick or something?” Tsu added.

“Sick of fucking bullshit,” he grumbled under his breath, trying not to glare at Deku across the room. 

He was sitting with Tenya and Shoto and Ochako like it was just another bright and shiny UA day.

Tsu was about to join them too judging by the extra chocolate anpan balanced on an extra cup of tea made with cinnamon and honey just how Ochako liked it. 

Bitterly, Katsuki noted that Deku should be the one getting her breakfast. Especially if he liked her enough to keep dragging her along while going on museum dates with brainy blondes.

His breakfast turned tasteless in his mouth.

God how he wanted to think of anything else. 

“His bad mood’s my fault I think Tsu,” Eijirou said, stepping between them, shielding Tsu from the miasma of rage slowly oozing off of Katsuki. “Tetsu crashed at my place last night and we might have gotten a little rowdy watching old Schwarzenegger movies.” 

“Schwarzenegger?” she questioned.

“He’s this super manly Austrian bodybuilder turned American Actor turned American Governor.” Ei flexed his bicep. “You should see his guns. The man’s an inspiration!”

“How does being muscly qualify someone to be a politician?” 

Ei shrugged. “Don’t know. America’s weird like that.”

“I guess.” Tsu walked off to join the rest of her happily ignorant crew.

Katsuki hoped Eijirou would follow suit and leave him to stew in his misery, but the redhead was not so easily shaken.

“Bro,” he said as he sat down, “I don’t want to tell you how to feel your feelings. But you gotta at least come up with some sort of excuse or else you’re gonna start raising suspicion.”

“Maybe I want to raise suspicion,” he snipped, stabbing at his breakfast. “Maybe if people were a little more suspicious around her, people would get away with window shopping girls like their trying to pick a new pair of stupidly priced, stupidly big sneakers to wear on their stupidly freckled feet.”

“Kats, we went over this. It’s not like—”

“I know what it’s not like.” 

Katsuki grabbed some hot sauce and dumped it liberally over the rice. Maybe that would bring some taste back to it.

Eijirou sighed. “So what do you want to do?”

“It’s not about what I want to do. If it was about what I want to do, it’d already be done and I’d be arrested.” 

“Then what can I do to help?”

Katsuki huffed a laugh. “Make numb nuts over there fucking choose a chick.”

Eijirou stroked his chin in thought. “I don’t think I can make him but I could probably hype up one of the girl’s a lot. Question is who?”

“Who what?” Mina asked. 

The bubbly pink gossip also known as Eijirou’s girlfriend sat down beside the pair. Antennas and curls bouncing. Katsuki swore they gave her a super hearing quirk none of the knew about.

“Who Kats is going to be for Halloween!” Ei quickly lied. “He doesn’t have a costume yet.” 

“Oooo!” Mina squealed excitedly. “He could be our Subotai!”

“You’re what?” Katsuki growled.

“Ei’s going as Conan the Barbarian, I’m going as Valeria. I’ve still got enough fabric to whip up one more toga for ya if you want to be out trusty archer,” she smiled. 

“Yeah, bro! We’d have to find you a wig and stuff but I’d bet you’d look damn good in a handlebar mustache,” Ei added.

Katsuki shuddered at the thought, recalling the patchy handlebar ‘stache his dad had sported for way too long, insisting it would eventually grow into a beard. 

“And want to scratch my face off all night? No fucking thank you,” he said. “I ain’t going to the party anyway.”

“What? Why?” Mina asked.

“Because why the fuck would I want to be surrounded by a bunch of drunk, screaming idiots all night?”

“Because you’d be drunk too?” 

“Tch. And deal with feeling like fucking shit the next morning?” he washed the newly added heat of his breakfast down with his coffee. “No fucking thank you.”

Mina pouted and looked down at her breakfast forlorn. “Guess a certain brainiac will be disappointed then.” 

His coffee soured.

Mina peered up at him and smiled, clearly misreading his pursed expression.

“Gotcha there. Bet you’re thinking twice about going now that you know Miss Shield will be there,” she mocked. “Denki told me all about y’all’s little study dates. So cute!” 

“It wasn’t a date,” he grumbled. “I’m just helping her out with her apprenticeship project.”

“By flexing your muscles?” she tugged her earlobe playfully. “News travels fast around here.”

Not fast enough, Katsuki thought.

“Do you know who Mel’s going as for Halloween?” Ei asked 

“No clue,” she said. “Which means she might be open to doing a couples costume with someone.”

Katsuki chugged the rest of his coffee and stood. “I’m going for a run.”

“Awww come on Kat! There’s no need to be bashful!” Mina called after him as he walked away.

He flipped her off and headed outside to clear his head with the crisp morning air.

🔍🔍🔍🔍🔍

He had managed to avoid direct contact with all three of them for most of the day, thank god.

Did it mean he had to be an absolute jerk all day to do it? Sure. But honestly it felt good to be a— 

“Jerk,” Ochako smacked him in the back of the head, surprising him and jolting him to his feet.

“What the fuck?!”

Ochako released her quirk, letting herself down to the ground slowly. “I should be asking you the same thing! What the fuck crawled up your ass today?” 

“Nothing crawled up my ass,” he snapped back. “And how the fuck did you find me anyway?”

Barely anybody knew about his spot in the woods. Only Ei.

Had he told Ochako? Was he setting this up as an excuse for him to tell her what Deku was up to?

“I followed you!”

Oh. 

“You followed me? Why the fuck would you do that?”

“Because you’ve been acting like a jerk all day, avoiding me *and* Melissa, then next thing I know you’re randomly stomping off into the woods,” she threw her arms up in the air. “I was worried!”

“About me in the woods?!” 

“About you in general! You only act this off and jerky when something’s really bothering you. So what’s up?”

Katsuki chewed the inside of his cheek.

“And don’t say ‘nothing’,” she added with a huff.

He couldn’t tell her outright.

But she would know if he lied. 

“I think Melissa’s seeing someone else,” he said. Not a lie.

Ochako’s eyes widened, the angry furrow in her brow softening a bit.

“No,” she said so shocked and softly, he would’ve found it comforting any other time.

But now it felt like a twist of a knife. 

“Oh no.” All the anger melted from her face. “You’re sure?”

Katsuki kept his eyes to the ground and tapped the toe of his shoe against it. “Pretty fucking sure.”

“Who is it? Someone from UA or—”

“Someone from her past, I think. So—”

“So you’re gonna win her back, right?” 

He ran his hand down his face and sighed. “Cheeks I don’t—”

“If it’s someone from her past, then they’re probably from the US, right?” she said. “Which means they’re all the way over there and you’re here. Looking hot, making her laugh, being there for her… you can’t give up!” 

“Look, it’s alright. I—”

“It’s not alright!” she insisted, stomping her foot for emphasis. “Bakugou Katsuki doesn’t give up! Not in the face of deadly villains and certainly not on winning the heart of a girl he likes!”

“Cheeks if she likes—” 

“If she liked this rando so fucking much she’d just be with him instead of flirting with you,” she huffed.

Katsuki ground his teeth subconsciously, cutting into the side of his cheek and drawing a bit of blood.

Her footsteps crunched across the leaves towards him. 

A pair of sparkling, kind, brown eyes blocked his view of the dying grass.

“What I’m saying is you still have a chance, Bakugou,” she smiled softly. “You’re here, they’re not. She won’t feel so lonely with you.”

“Tch. I don’t wanna be just a body to keep a bed warm.” 

“You won’t be,” she said. “It might start like that, sure. But over time she’ll see how wonderful you are and fall in love with you slowly, then all at once.” She took his hands in hers and ran the soft pads of her thumbs over his knuckles. “But it won’t happen unless you try.” 

The thought of winning Melissa back was far from his mind. He wanted to get even.

He wanted her to hurt just as much as he did, as much as Cheeks would if she ever found out.

Deku too. Fuck however innocent or love torn he was. The nerd had to choose.

He’d make him choose. 

His churning thoughts had a new target to focus on, the sparks of a plan already starting to smolder in his mind.

Ochako smiled. “There you are.”

“What?”

“There’s that Dynamight determination,” Ochako cheered. “You want to win now, don’t ya?” 

Katsuki smirked. “Yeah, Cheeks. I wanna win.” 

🔍🔍🔍🔍🔍

There were a lot of ways to win, but the right way to win was what his mind couldn’t settle on.

Threatening Deku to choose head on wouldn’t work. After the war he’d unfortunately (in this case) developed a spine. Fucker wouldn’t willingly hurt someone but Katsuki wouldn’t be surprised if he kept dragging his feet just to spite him. Or worst would tell Ochako that he’d pressured him to choose. Or worst worst, end things with Ochako super messily because he would be scared shitless and respond stupidly. 

Or he could end things with Melissa super messily. But something in his gut told him that wasn’t going to happen.

Deku was going to pick Melissa, he just needed the balls to do it without worrying about what their classmates might think.

He needed a challenge to do it. 

He needed to feel like he was going to lose her. Which was easier said than done when Melissa was into him enough to ask him on a date.

Katsuki groaned as he flopped back on his mattress, finding himself at another obstacle.

His phone pinged, a welcome distraction before he saw that it was a message from Melissa.

A selfie even. Her with her glasses hung low on her nose, wearing a dark curly wig.

Think I should go brunette? 😉

Shouldn’t you ask Deku that? he considered texting back. 

Was this part of her Halloween costume? Why would she—

At once, two voices echoed in his mind sparking inspiration.

The first belonging to a well meaning Alien Queen.

“…she might be open to doing a couples costume with someone…” 

The second belonging to a pair of kind brown eyes and plump rosy cheeks.

“…she won’t feel so lonely with you…”

Katsuki rose from his bed and opened his dorm door just a crack, listening, quickly picking up Deku’s high, breathy laugh trickling down the hall. 

Game night was tonight. Deku never missed a game night and was intense as hell the entire time.

God themselves could be texting him and he wouldn’t answer.

Katsuki’s phone pinged again, pulling him back towards his bed.

MS: What are you doing tonight?👀 

Katsuki smiled wickedly.

She *was* lonely. Deku’s attention was elsewhere so she put her attention elsewhere.

Not a healthy coping mechanism by any means but one that could be exploited.

BK: Checking out this new cute brunette that just texted me. 

BK: Still waiting to see her in that white wig and blue skimpy outfit though.

MS: 🤔🤔🤔 I’ll think about it. Would need to find a cunning linguist to sell the costume though.

Katsuki cracked his knuckles and leaned back on his pillows, readying himself for spiteful flirting. 

BK: I think I know a cunning linguist 👅 but what about the brunette? What does she need?

MS: A brawny, brainy explorer to help save me from an evil mummy.

So she was going as that librarian from The Mummy.

BK: Well, I definitely think I can help you out of those wraps. 

A picture followed, angled a little lower. The button up blouse she was wearing had opened up a bit, exposing her cleavage and the crimson lace of her bra.

MS: These wraps? But I worked so hard on my Halloween costume. 🥺

Katsuki closed his eyes and took a deep breath, calming himself, maintaining his focus. She was hot, no doubt about that.

He didn’t have the chance to give a witty response back before she texted:

What are you dressing up as?

Fuck.

He didn’t have an answer for that one. 

He looked around his room for something, anything to claim was a costume that would be enticing enough for her.

A shirtless pic was the obvious choice, but saying “a washboard” was too much of a douche reply for her. And he wasn’t a fucking cosplayer pulling props out his ass. 

His gaze fell on the pair of reading glasses resting on his nightstand. Ochako had dragged him out to get them after catching him squinting at their history textbook one study session.

She had picked out the style too, nerdy round shaped frames that she said looked good. 

Really they made him look like a dork.

And Melissa liked dorks so…

He whipped off his shirt, threw on his glasses then posed with his signature scowl for a mirror selfie.

BK: The perfect blend of brains and brawn.

MS: 🥵🥵🥵

MS: Those glasses tho 🤔🤔🤔

BK: 🤔? 

The fuck was that emoji for?

MS: Those glasses look familiar. More like a cunning linguist than just some brains and brawn.

Katsuki looked at himself in the mirror. They looked familiar? Did Deku fucking wear glasses too or some shit? Or…

He smiled wickedly. 

BK: Dunno. Guess you’ll have to wait til the Halloween party to find out.

Katsuki didn’t give two shits what she texted back, he was too busy searching up the perfect picture and knocking on Eijirou’s door.

Mina answered, just as he expected.

“What’s up Bakubro?” 

Katsuki shoved his phone towards his face. “This.”

“What?”

“You said you’d help me with my Halloween costume. I need you to make me a sexy version of this motherfucker.”

Mina knit her brow and took the phone from him. “Really? I didn’t even know you knew this movie.” 

“I don’t, but Mel loves it.” He exchanged a knowing glance with Eijirou as he joined Mina at the door.

Ei raised a doubtful eyebrow. Katsuki smiled impishly for a moment before dropping back into a scowl as Mina looked up.

“Ohhhh. I’ve got an idea.” 

She handed the phone back to him, a smug grin on her face. “What do you think about that? I’ve got enough fabric and some leftover festival face paint we can use for it.”

He nodded. “I think she’s gonna love it.”

🔍🔍🔍🔍🔍

Mina took his costume idea and fucking ran with it. 

The other guys however.

“So run us through this plan of yours one more time,” Hanta said beside him, having made his way up next to him mid-run.

Shoto, Eijirou, Shoji, and Tetsu all fell in stride him, annoyingly crowding the track.

Katsuki rolled his eyes and snarled. 

“How many times do I have to fucking go through this?” I’m making Deku choose.”

“By helping Melissa feel less lonely at the Halloween party?” Hanta clarified. “That’s the part we’re hung up on.”

“The party’s gonna be packed with people,” Shoto said. “Why would she be lonely?” 

“And she’s got 2 guys competing for her heart,” Tetsu added. “That seems like a lot of attention coming her way.”

“I ain’t competing for anything of hers,” Katsuki snapped. “She’ll be lonely because Deku’s will be fucking busy saving face with Uraraka the whole night.” 

“Saving face?” Ei asked.

“Everyone knows he’s supposed to be seeing Uraraka, right? It’d be weird if they didn’t spend the Halloween party hanging out together. Which means Melissa’s gotta watch them spend the whole party hanging out together.” 

“She’ll be jealous,” Shoji noted.

“And drunk probably,” Katsuki added. “And surrounded by people she’s only sort of friends with. So when the guy she sends titty pics to whenever Deku’s busy walks in looking like her fantasy, I’m sure she’ll be giving me a lot of attention.” 

“Thus making Deku jealous,” Shoji concluded.

“Exactly.” Katsuki turned to Hanta. “Now 3M if all of a sudden IcyHot started flirting with another guy in front of you what would you do?”

Shoto frowned. “I would never.”

“It’s a hypothetical, Peppermint, calm down.” 

Hanta narrowed his eyes at Katsuki. “I wouldn’t let that happen.”

“You’d cause a scene, wouldn’t ya?” Katsuki snickered.

“Not a scene but,” he glanced towards Shoto, “I’d handle it.”

His boyfriend blushed and Katsuki groaned in disgust.

“Anyway. What is Deku gonna do then?” 

“Handle it?” Shoto asked.

“Bingo.”

“But this all rides on Midoriya liking Melissa more that Uraraka,” Ei said. “And I’m not sure—”

“Ya don’t skip out on a date with the girl you like more to hang out with the girl you like less last minute,” he stated. “The moment he chose that museum date over pumpkin picking with Uraraka, who he likes more was clear. He just needs to fucking own up to it now.”

Their footfalls against the rubber track underscored their processing as they considered Katsuki’s argument.

“How can we help?” Shoji asked. 

“Keep Melissa and Deku from talking one on one with each other tonight, and make sure Deku and Uraraka stay together in Melissa’s line of sight as much as you can,” Katsuki instructed. “I’ll handle the rest.”

“You’re sure this is a good idea?” Ei asked. 

“You worked real hard to get over you and Midoriya’s past bullshit. I don’t want you throwing that away over something like this.”

“Tch. I’m doing this because I fucking know the idiot doesn’t even realize what he’s doing is messed up,” he replied. Either way it goes him and I will be fine. I’ll still be fucking pissed at him for it. But I ain’t gonna beat the shit out of him or something over it.”

“Good,” Ei sighed in relief. “Last thing we need is another Aizawa lecture because of that.”

~~~~~~~

Next Part ->

[augustdementhe]

Had a very elaborate dream staying up super late and getting my mother disappointed in me that morphed to messing around in some kind of gym thing with a friend that went to the most brutal knife murdering of some dipshit  conservative ‘talking head’ type dude and into driving away in his stolen vehicle. 

And just NOT CARING if/when I’d be caught until I made it out of the building. 

Then it was all ‘Oh shit...I actually made it this far...now how do I get to Mexico from North Texas with these FUCKING GAS PRICES, and also FUCK I never got my passport renewed. And SHIT I do not have ANY cash.’

I also remember the distinct taste of turmeric in my mouth. Think that part meant something real. 

Usually when I fight someone in dreams, my punches, stabs, shoving them out of windows, etc are totally ineffective, even as someone might be bleeding or have a broken jaw, they’ll still be talking smack, and I won’t FEEL feel anything landing.

The very VERY notable exception has been police and F6 supremacists, and this dream was the same there. I mean I REALLY for real knifed open this dude’s neck with the tactile memory of cutting meat and gristle. 

Then I guess I teeeeeechnically kidnapped Greg Abbot? Who in this dream was not using his wheelchair...which....okay. He was very accommodating and GIGGLY about the whole thing, like. All ‘HAAAAA, you really did kill that dude, okay, yeah, no, grab his keys, and see how long you can keep this up. No, get in this lane, that lane is a turn only....okay yeah, drop me off before the security cameras, that’s smart, okay, good luck, bye!’

Big question here is why I didn’t also murder HIM.  Maybe it was just someone who LOOKED like him, because honestly, they can only execute you once, so like...no good reason why I would kill a talking head and not an ACTUAL POLITICIAN. 

I woke up just fretting about the logistics of escape and whether my mother would forgive me sending a letter and not attempting a goodbye in person. 

Hmm. 

[favroitecrime]

just like as an addition to the last post i rb’ed like some democrats don’t get it. they’ll tell you historically muslims leaned towards republicans for conservative reasons and they’re not entirely wrong but it’s also not like the democratic party has never been full of monsters. one of obama’s promises during his candidacy was the bombing of syria. we’ve watched democrats in office do nothing about syria, lebanon, palestine, iraq, etc. we’ve watched them extend their violence into north africa and face no consequences. we watched them tamper with ME politics over and over causing a huge influx of arab/muslim refugees to be forced to enter their countries. we remember obama’s promise about bombing syria. we remember joe’s role in encouraging and rooting for the continuing of the iraq war. we remember everything with afghanistan. and when we see our brothers and sisters there say they won’t vote for biden, we watch as the tolerant left dissolves into the most bigoted, racist bullshit spewing freaks you’ll meet. because the american politician way is if you’re not benefiting them they’ve no reason to pretend to care for your life. you’re really never gonna get muslims/arabs to forgive democrats for that entirely and as people say, i’d rather my enemy make it clear they’re such to my face rather than shake my hand while stabbing me in the back. also like someone mentioned in that comment section, usually foreigners/refugees who can vote in the US are voting based on foreign policies babe they wanna go HOME.

[mknbrd]

anybody  else  would  be  gone  by  now .

      ‘  i thought about it.  stanford’s offering the high end of six figures to develop and head their extraterrestrial biology program.  ’   shield is in ruins, and all she’s really found out in the several week battle to keep herself out of the ashes is that she hates this place.  she hates this side of the work they do  —  used to do.  the breadth of her charm does not usually extend to politicians.  she is more blunt force object than scalpel, and capitol hill is a place that bleeds scalpels and snakes, things that’ll shake your hand with a smile and stab you in the back when you blink.

     ‘  but apparently, there’s nowhere i’d rather be.  not here, specifically  —  ’   distractedly, bobbi pulls a drag of a cigarette that’s spent more time dangling between her fingers than it has in her mouth.  she waves it to illustrate a point, and then offers it for the taking.  she hasn’t managed to tear her gaze away from the dearth of clouds hanging over the capitol building in the distance, like if she turns her back for too long, it’ll grow and swallow them whole.  but, somewhere between eating a shitty overpriced sandwich between hearing sessions and wanting to bash her own head into a wall, she’d realized she’d endure just about  anything  to get back to saving the world.   ‘  i just think i can do the most good here without getting bored.  ’

[humansofnewyork]

(1/12) “It’s one of the most painful things you can imagine. It would feel like she was being stabbed in the joints with needles. On days when she was too sick to go to school, I’d stay home with her. I’d lie next to her on the floor, and she’d be in so much pain that she’d be asking for a knife to end her own life. I’d feel so helpless. She was just a child. I’d do anything to take away her pain. But I was just a child too, so what could I do? Fatou was the only girl in our family. She was our princess. She’d ride around on our backs like a horse, and we couldn’t stop until she said so. But we never minded. Whatever Fatou wanted, she got. For her entire life she’d been very ill with sickle-cell anemia. There isn’t a cure for the disease, so it put our parents under a great deal of strain. We weren’t a wealthy family. Both my parents had to work to pay her hospital bills. And the situation in our country was not good. In Guinea there has always been a lot of ethnic tension. Growing up there were a lot of riots, and a lot of shooting. The streets could be so dangerous that our parents would make us stay inside for days at a time. When I turned thirteen there was a particularly heated election. Politicians were stirring up anger between the tribes, and violence was spilling into the streets. My father is a very educated man. And he happens to be an amazing writer, so he started writing speeches for some of the more moderate candidates. During this time he sent me to America, to visit with some friends that he’d met while studying there. It was supposed to be a short trip, just a few weeks, until things cooled down. But my father called me a week before I was supposed to leave. He’d heard a rumor that he was going to be arrested. He’d decided to leave the country for a few months. And he thought it would be safest if I didn’t come home. When I hung up the phone, I remember feeling nervous. But I was also excited. I thought: ‘This is the greatest country on the planet. There’s so much opportunity here. I’m going to study, and find a good job. And I’ll finally be able to help my sister.’ I had no idea what was in front of me. I was just a kid.”

[phoenixyfriend]

OKAY so on the topic of Star Wars takes wrt “character ends up in an A/B/O universe where they’re an omega, but they were previously a cis male in their canon”

@atagotiak and I had some Thoughts on discord

So, obviously, Anakin would make a good omega and he’s also incredibly murdery. Foregone conclusion that we're using him for this.

There is no preexisting Anakin in the Omegaverse. He shows up JUST as the war is starting. Canon timeline is in the third year of the war (he’s 22), but whatever dumped him into omegaverse also tossed him back a few years. No de-aging, just a bit of mismatched timeline stuff.

He's... really good at war, and clearly a Jedi, so the Temple just kind of goes "WELL OKAY THEN, SURE, YOU'RE IN, EVERYONE PRETEND HE'S BEEN HERE THE WHOLE TIME." The Jedi, by and large, don't care about omegaverse dynamics beyond 'what do you need, medically, to be happy and healthy' and 'what do you need to be aware of so you can be prepared for biases you encounter in the field?’

None of the civilian natborns (mainly politicians) want to put him on the field because of those biases. Anakin, being Anakin, is VERY blatantly an omega in scent, has never been on suppressants (because it wasn't a thing he fucking NEEDED), is incredibly emotional as a person, loves kids, etc.

Like, nobody wants an omega fighting a war anyway, but THIS one is like PINNACLE omega, and those awful Jedi are making him FIGHT just because he's good at stab!

The Jedi: Actually, it's because he's got several years of war experience that we don't, and he's a good tactician that works well with the clones-- Coruscant: You MONSTERS The Jedi: Look, we gave him the option to not stab and he looked absolutely devastated. Anakin, several days earlier: You don’t want me? I’m not good enough??? Jedi: Also he can beat up at least half the temple.

He doesn't know a damn thing about dynamics, but he DOES know that sometimes he's so horny he wants to stab HARDER. The clones are largely disinterested in their generals' dynamics because between mostly-Mando* trainers and no-dynamic Kaminoans, they only really care if a person can shoot.

* Mandalore approves of Fighty Omegas. As far as (traditional) Mandalore is concerned, you want an omega that will kill the threats to your children as well as you do.

Anakin: You know more about being an omega than I do. Rex: ...I'm an alpha. Anakin: Yeah. Let that one sink in a bit.

We have two options for Obi-Wan!

Omegaverse local Obi-Wan (beta) has never met this man before, and is very unnerved that the immediate default reaction Anakin has to his presence is releasing Family pheromones as if Obi-Wan is his DAD and like. This strange, too-tall man from another dimension has got absolutely NO control over what he projects in the Force OR in his dynamic.

Obi-Wan was ALSO transplanted from canon to omegaverse, and is also an omega, for contrast reasons. He is nice and friendly and and likes poetry and that sort of thing... but also he has the highest dismemberment count in the movies. Also he doesn’t prioritize romance.

We went with the second one because it's hilarious.

Someone watching them spar: Wow, omegas from that universe are terrifying.

As previously mentioned, now with some tweaking to account for both: Obi-Wan and Anakin just straight up don't exist until they drop headfirst into the council room, already covered in blood. (It's mostly not theirs.)

Nobody realizes either one is an omega until they "naturalize" to this dimension and Anakin goes into heat... and doesn't realize it, actually, because his primary symptom is heightened protectiveness and aggression. Everyone else with the right nose realizes, because the man has no control over his pheromone production, but Anakin? No. He just stabs. He’s angry and horny and he will cut someone.

Ahsoka has no reaction to human pheromones but basically everyone smells Anakin's "my child!" reaction to her, so... Cool. Have a padawan, we guess.

Anakin ends up sparring a lot with Aayla and Ahsoka, because only humans and near humans have dynamics, so these two don't REACT to the pheromones situation.

(Palpatine is a Kindly Old Beta who tries to treat Anakin the way he EXPECTS Anakin wants to be treated, which is. Not. Accurate.)

(Anakin hates it.)

I'm just so in love with "An omega can't fight." "You wanna fuckin' bet?"

There are plenty of omega Jedi, by the way, it's just... most of them can keep it relatively low-key instead of Anakin's jet-engine broadcast. Some, if they're known to be omega, probably take advantage of being underestimated, like Obi-Wan probably (and especially a version of Obi-Wan that was always an omega, unlike this version). They have a very different way of presenting themselves than Anakin, who's not subtle about being an omega and also not subtle about being all aggressive and stabby.

At one point, Anakin has to protect some Very Traditional Individuals who get all "Stay back, Omega, it's not safe!" and he's just... so tired of this shit. “You are squishy civilians and I'm a trained Jedi Knight and accomplished GAR General who's killed more people in one sitting than there are in this entire palace. Sit the fuck down and let me do my job.”

It starts making the rounds that Anakin insisted on fighting in person, and the rumors shift from "how dare the Jedi force an omega to fight" and over into things that are deeply hurtful in-universe in the vein of "broken omega" and some people try to say it to his face but like...

He didn't grow up here.

He doesn't care.

Say that to one of his friends and he's going to rip out your spleen, probably, but say it to him and he's just staring at you flatly and asking if that's a negative on getting away from the encroaching battle droids, sir?

"You're rather unpleasant for an omega, aren't you?" [deeply offensive] "I literally could not give less of a fuck about your opinion. Move."

It's not that there aren't omegas that act like Anakin, either, it's just that most of them aren't, you know, Jedi who regularly interact with the upper crust, or capable of his level of destruction. Unbeknownst to Anakin, everyone clocks him as Outer Rim based on his behavior, well before his accent gives him away, and certainly before he mentions he's from Tatooine, because Core Omegas Don't Act Like That.

Someone they meet in a more diplomatic setting says something decently passive-aggressive about how at least Obi-Wan acts more like how an Omega should. Then a battle breaks out for some reason, and... well. Anakin and Obi-Wan cause such a scandal by keeping score of kills in a battle, don’t you know?

Turns out sending Anakin to fight Ventress is great because she keeps expecting him to react a certain way but NO he's here to STAB.

I like the idea that Obi-Wan's favorite opponent these days is Grievous because the cyborg doesn't have a nose, and thus gives zero fucks about dynamics or heats. Dooku is a rich old man who has opinions heavily influenced by Sith Juice Making Him More of a Dick, and the Dathomiri can smell dynamics even if they don't have them, and so they have biases about those things. Meanwhile, Grievous is just there to Kill, and Obi-Wan genuinely appreciates the lack of commentary on his dynamic.

Dooku’s probably an alpha, or a beta who's used the whole "we are more level-headed" thing as one of several angles to keep himself the public face and supreme commander of the CIS.

On to more fluffy things that have less to do with political biases.

There's a lot of "I'm upset that my loved ones don't know me," but also please understand the appeal of Obi-Wan marching up to Quinlan like "Yes, hello, I understand you've been read in on the full situation behind myself and my former padawan. I was close friends with your alternate universe self, which I feel is necessary disclosure before I propose the following: Would you like to join me for my upcoming heat, as I have minimal experience with the dynamics situation and even fewer people I actually trust, and I believe I can put my faith in you to treat it as casually as necessary while still having control and respect for my person."

(The Team is in a fairly safe place to process stuff, but having sudden unexpected changes to your biology has gotta be a little traumatizing, on top of ending up in a universe where none of your friends know you and people have a whole host of unfamiliar forms of sexism to point at you.)

Obi-Wan, who wasn't quite touch-averse but was much more easily overwhelmed by physical contact than Anakin (who craved it), suddenly finds his body switching gears and insisting on cuddles with Trusted Loved Ones, which is.... mostly Anakin, on account of nobody else really knowing him yet. Also Ahsoka, who is aware that she's something of a replacement for her alt-universe self, but Anakin explained it as "I love you so much no matter which dimension I'm in or what you're like, and I'd like to get to know you the way I got know her."

(It's rather eloquent for Anakin. He got Obi-Wan to help him draft up the script for when he pitched taking on omegaverse Ahsoka as a padawan.)

Anakin gets a more intensely sexual heat than 'usual' at one point for Reasons (IDK it could be as innocuous as 'we got better food than the usual rations and my body is reacting to the higher fat content with the belief that it's safer to have a baby now'), which nobody takes a whole lot of notice of because they're in a WAR, and also this is only his fourth one so it's not like he's got a lot to compare it to... except then the predominantly alpha clones can't stop themselves from reacting to the pheromones, mostly by wandering past his door and asking if he needs anything, offering up alpha-scented blankets and stuff for the nest to soothe the hormones, bringing snacks and electrolyte drinks, and like, Anakin is flattered, really, but fuck off please.

(He got a warning from medical a few hours before it hit that it would be different, so he actually does have alpha-scented fabrics to help him out. Apparently that's a thing you can just ask friends for, so he asked Rex if he had anything on hand that he could spare. He now has one of Rex’s recently-used sheets and a bodyglove in the nest.)

(Anakin has no idea how to feel about the nesting instinct, but at least it’s warm.)

Tia asked "Oh hey, who has the scared and horny reaction to his carnage?" and like.

Listen. I'm not saying I've been low-key imagining this as Rex being a very subby alpha who's really into Anakin's whole Thing but...

At one point Anakin gets injured in a way that requires painkillers and he ends up whining to the point of almost crying about the fact that nobody is cuddling him right now in medbay and Kix just gives up and comms Ahsoka to come hug her weird older brother.

And Then There Is Purring.

That’s a Thing Now.

Rex ends up in the pile somehow. He came over to check on Things and ended up yanked in by half-asleep, half-high Anakin, who has a grip like an octopus and no impulse control and is purring like a pod motor while NUZZLING HIM.

There’s a lot of blackmail photos featuring Rex’s very intense blush as he’s cuddled by his commander (giggling at him) and general (clinging like a tooka and rubbing himself all over).

Anakin is deeply offended that ANYONE thinks he'd want to get pregnant by just any old person, NO he needs to fall in LOVE there needs to be EMOTIONAL DRAMA and if Padme won't have him (apparently she's in a relationship and no he's not BITTER) then he'll find someone else to have a whirlwind romance with!

People think Anakin's a slut because he can't control his pheromone production (he has NO practice and for health reasons he can't go on suppressants) so he always smells open and ready for flirtations, which Obi-Wan also has to a somewhat lesser degree (he's older so his body just naturally produces less), and then someone tries to cross a boundary and grabs his ass and ANYWAY Anakin has to now fill out an incident report for breaking a civilian's arm.

Again.

[caspercryptid]

firstly, ive read about 80% of your drabbles by now and they've all been delightful; you balance humour and drama incredibly well. the squallet fic especially...man. man. look at me getting emotional over a squallet.

second of all, could you write about LoL jayvik meeting at that party from their bios? i've never actually seen anyone write it, which is a shame, because i want to see their first impressions of each other so badly.

Thank you for this, this was So Much Fucking Fun. Okay! I think I've got the lore right, but I didn't do EXTENSIVE research so if anything's a little to the left, forgive me. Here we go!

____ Jayce always found the progress day parties inspiring, in that they inspired him to new heights of homicidal intent.

At no other time of the year has Jayce been so close to sacrificing everything he’d worked for in the name of a nice cushy cell in stillwater. He has to keep reminding himself, through a gritted teeth smile, that while it isn’t illegal to be vapid and uninteresting, it is, in fact, illegal to stab people with a salad fork for being vapid and uninteresting. And while that was deeply unfair, there wasn’t really much he could do about it.

He can barely hear himself anymore, after about the twentieth conversation with the exact same script- oh, are you the giopara boy? Very impressive for your age, it was really generous of them to have extended you this opportunity, You must be so grateful. Jayce is not, in fact, grateful, because he earned this, earned it with blood sweat tears, smarts and sheer unadulterated stubbornness, and he’d needed it, and so he’d gotten it. He wasn’t a charity case.

He’s nearly on the point of voicing that himself, when he hears it behind him, and thinks for half a second that someone’s read his mind and decided to start spilling his secrets, but no, that accent is distinctive, and more than a little pissed off, and Jayce turns around.

“–And I’m not particularly inclined to stand here and listen to you attempt to dismiss my achievements to attributing all of them to my benefactors.”

The boy– man, whatever, teenager, he’s about Jayce’s age. Is speaking with what’s pretty distinctively a Zaunite accent. His hair is a wild tangle he clearly hasn’t gone through much effort to maintain, which Jayce respects already. He feels like a fucking wind-up brass soldier in his suit, like there’s a dial in his back.

“I only meant–” the cornered politician is a little red in the face, and Jayce recognizes him as the same man who’d given him a speech about how proud he must have been to be accepted by clan Giopara. Like Clan Giopara had been his only choice, even.

“It doesn’t matter what you meant.” The Zaunite cuts him off. “What matters is what you’re saying, which is the same thing a hundred other people in here have said, and I’m not going to tolerate it. My achievements speak for themselves. Go try your chitchat on someone else.”

He turns around, and that’s when Jayce spots the cane, mentally adding that to the profile he’s already drawing up in his head.

And then the Zaunite looks up and cocks a single imperious eyebrow.

“And what exactly are you smiling at?” He challenges, and ah. Right. Jayce is staring. He’s not supposed to do that.

“You.” He says, stupidly. Oh goddamn it. Thankfully the other man doesn’t mock him or seem particularly perturbed, just raises an eyebrow higher. Jayce shakes himself, closes the gap to extend a hand. “Jayce Giopara.” He says.

“Viktor.” the Zaunite says, shaking his hand. “Just Viktor.”

“I figured.” Jayce says, and then winces a little when Viktor scowls at him, clearly winding up another speech.

“I’m just familiar with all the new house apprenta my age.” Jayce explains, quickly. “They were my competition.”

“Your age?” Viktor asks. “I’d think you’re younger than me.”

“Loosely my age.” Jayce says. “I’m the youngest– nevermind. My group or whatever it's called.”

“I see.” Viktor says. He’s still scowling, a little, but it’s a more familiar look. That’s the look of a man who really doesn’t fucking want to be here. Jayce shifts on his heels, a little, running through topics in his head. Viktor’s here, which means he has to be smart, but Jayce doesn’t want to come on too strong by starting a conversation on thermodynamics, and that might seem like an intellectual challenge anyway. Clearly neither of them enjoyed small talk. Shit, how do people make friends?

“You know.” Jayce says. “I was forced to memorize the names and families of every single person in here. You wanna make bets on who’s going to drink themselves unconscious or cheat on their spouse?”

Viktor stares at him, a second, and for a moment Jayce thinks he’s chosen the wrong open. Then he grins, slowly.

“An intriguing proposition.” he says. “Does intent to commit infidelity count?”

“I think so.” Jayce says, grinning back.

“Who in here is married?”

Jayce points to a few people, rattling off names, and Viktor neatly rolls up his sleeves, hands Jayce a few coins, and says–

“I’m going to go tip some tables, then.”

Jayce is startled into laughing. “Oh that’s cheating.”

Viktor winks at him. “Ideally, it is.” he jokes, and then says– “Learn from a Zaunite. Never make a bet unless it’s a sure thing.”

He heads off, and as Jayce watches him go, there’s something warm and curling in his gut.

Oh, no.

He swallows that feeling, looks down at the coins in his hand, and then calls– “50 on the Arvino!” after Viktor, and darts off.

Never let it be said that he didn’t play the game, even when he suspected he was going to lose.

[triptuckers]

Revenge - Kaz Brekker

Request: yes :) “seeing as your requests are open, i thought i might as well pitch you an idea too, since i'm here... how about a little bit of a twist on the usual hurt/comfort, angst, etc with kaz? like... instead of getting hurt because of him, he's the one who gets hurt because of the reader? maybe she joined the dregs, running away from her past. but then someone wanting revenge finds her, sees how much she cares for kaz, and decides to get back at her by going after him... idk where exactly i'm going with this, it's just an idea, the details i leave up to you :))” Pairing: Kaz Brekker x reader Summary:  You thought you’d be safe from the people in your past once you got to Ketterdam, but you couldn’t have been more wrong Warnings: mentions of blood, injuries, bruising, death, language, angst Word count:  2.4K A/N: to the one who send me this request: your lil message made me feel so happy & loved, I am so glad you appreciate my work <3 sending you lots of hugs! thanks for requesting this, enjoy reading! :)

You’re standing on one of the docks. You’ve got your coat wrapped tightly around you to protect yourself from the cold wind. It’s dark outside, and most of Ketterdam is deserted, its residents retired to the comfort of their warm houses.

You like to come to the docks and look out over the sea. It calms you. The sound of the waves, the salty air, it all reminds you of your past, and you go to the docks to tell yourself you don’t ever have to go back if you don’t want to.

It’s not that you hated your entire past, just parts of it. For a while, you were actually quite happy. Sailing the seas, laughing along with your crew, and taking what you wanted from rich politicians who dared to cross your waters. 

It was fine for a while, only taking from those who already had too much. It didn’t bother you. But then your captain started to take from everyone and everything, and using more violence. You were hesitant, but didn’t say much. Even though your crew was basically your family, they could easily toss you in the sea. But then your captain started to take people as well, not just things. He forced them to work on his ship, and you knew it was wrong.

When you spoke up about it, they turned on you, threatening you. You were to work with the prisoners, and it was horrible. So, when you saw the opportunity, you jumped ship, along with a few prisoners. The sea was cold, and you swam for nearly three days, when a ship picked you up. It was headed to Kerch. When you set foot on the Ketterdam docks, you vowed to never sail again. You parted ways with the people that had been taken prisoner, and joined the Dregs soon after.

Part of you is still scared your captain or someone else of your old crew finds you, and gets their revenge on you. But since joining the Dregs, you’ve improved your fighting and survival skills, and the other members of the Dregs have your back. 

When the wind is almost too cold, and the sky is pitch black, you decide to head back to the Slat. You liked staying on the docks, but it wasn’t wise to stay out on the streets of Ketterdam for too long, especially when it was dark.

After one last look at the sea, you turn and start walking back to the Slat. Your hand is on one of your revolvers as you walk, eyes open and ears focused on any sounds you hear. You had been jumped before, and knew it wouldn’t be the last time it would happen.

You keep your head down as you’re walking, but then you notice a figure in the distance. You slow down and take another look at the person ahead of you. You can see they’re limping, and realise they must be hurt. Instantly, you’re on edge, in case their attacker is still close.

You pick up the pace again, looking at the person in front of you as you approach them. The closer you get, the more familiar they seem. And then you’re close enough to recognise a cane.

Normally, you’d tell yourself it probably wouldn’t be Kaz. Lately, every figure or silhouette looked like Kaz to you. But it was unmistakably Kaz’ cane, and you knew he would never allow anyone to take it from him.

‘Kaz!’ you say and you sprint the last bit to get to him. When you get to him, your jaw drops when you see him. He’s got several stab wounds on his upper body, and his face is bruised and bloody.

‘What are you doing here?' says Kaz as soon as he notices it’s you. ‘It’s not safe here.’ he grumbles.

‘It’s Ketterdam at night. Of course it’s not safe.’ you say, letting your eyes roam over his body, looking at his injuries.

‘It’s not safe for you.’ says Kaz, wincing as he presses a hand to one of his wounds to apply pressure to it.

‘What does that mean?’ you say, frowning.

‘Your former captain says hi.’ says Kaz.

Your eyes widen at his words and your breath catches in your throat. Had he found you? Did he somehow manage to track you all the way to Ketterdam? 

‘He did this to you?’ you say. Kaz nods.

‘Saints, Kaz, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. He blames me for freeing some of the prisoners. Rightfully, though. I’d already figured he’d send someone after me if he learned I was in Ketterdam. I never would have thought he’d send someone after you.’ you say.

You look at his beaten up body again. Somehow, he still managed to look good. His suit is dusty and bloody, but it still fit his body perfectly. His hair is messy and there’s sweat on his forehead, but you don’t mind.

‘I’m sorry, Kaz.’ you say. ‘This is all my fault.’

You want to move closer to him to help him, but you know he’d never allow you to. So you keep your distance. 

Kaz doesn’t respond to you, instead he moves to continue walking. It results into him nearly falling to the floor. You have to hold yourself back not to catch him. Kaz clutches his cane to prevent his body from hitting the floor.

‘We have to get you back to the Slat.’ you say, still keeping your distance. The last thing you want to do is trigger something in him when you’re the one that got him hurt in the first place.

Kaz pushes himself up with his cane, groaning as he straightens his back.

‘Can you walk?’ you ask him.

‘I can manage.’ he says through gritted teeth. But he takes two steps and almost falls down again. You clench your fists to prevent yourself from reaching out to him. You can’t handle that he’s hurt and you can’t even help him to walk.

‘Y/N.’ he says. His voice his softer than usual, and it catches you off guard. ‘You need to help me walk.’ he says.

‘Kaz, I don’t want to-’ ‘I want you to. I need you to.’

You slowly walk up to him. He looks you in your eyes and gives you a single nod, silently giving you permission.

‘I don’t know Kaz.’ you say. ‘It feels wrong, touching you.’

‘Y/N, the longer we’re out here, the longer we are in danger and the more risk of me bleeding to death on the streets, is that something you want?’ snaps Kaz.

‘No, of course not!’ you say.

‘Then come here.’ he says and with one swift movement, he pulls you closer and swings one of his arms over your shoulder.

‘If at any point you want to stop, I get it.’ you say, a bit flustered now that you’re so close to him.

‘Y/N just get me to the damn Slat.’ says Kaz. ‘But could you just... Tell what you’re going to do while you’re doing it? Makes it easier.’

‘Of course.’ you say. ‘I'm going to put my hand around your waist, and grab your hand with the other, okay?’

You see him clench his jaw as he nods. You slowly move to wrap your arm around his waist. You then wait a few seconds before grabbing ahold of his gloved hand that’s on your shoulder.

‘Alright.’ you say. ‘Ready?’ 

Kaz nods and you start to walk toward the Slat.

The journey is slow, and you try your best to keep Kaz talking and conscious. But he’s losing a lot of blood, leaving a trail of red drops behind on the street.

When you finally get to the Slat and push its door open, it’s crowded. A lot of heads turn your way as you scan the crowd for Nina. When you spot her, you see her eyes have widened as she looks at Kaz. You signal for her to follow you and you start to walk up the stairs to Kaz’ floor. 

When you finally get there, you walk to his room and lay him down on the bed. 

‘What happened?’ says Nina as she enters the room.

‘Someone of my past got to Kaz.’ you mumble, struggling to meet Kaz’ eyes. ‘Roughed him up pretty bad.’

Nina moves to see to his internal wounds and you can see Kaz keeps his jaw clenched at the close proximity to another person. When she’s done, he moves to sit up.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ you say.

‘Business.’ groans Kaz and you raise your eyebrows at him.

‘Kaz Brekker, I did not drag your ass all the way from the docks to the Slat, only for you to resume working instead of resting.’ you say.

‘I'm fine.’

‘You almost bled to death in the streets!’ you say. ‘Half your body is covered in wounds and Nina’s only healed the internal ones.’

‘I can manage.’

‘Like hell you can.’ you say. ‘I'll take over the Dregs for a while. And as for you, let someone see to your wounds. And honestly, would it kill you to take a nap every now and then?’

‘I can see to my own wounds.’

You groan and throw your hands up out of frustration. ‘Fine!’ you say. ‘Go bandage those wounds all by yourself, I'm not helping!’

Nina steps closer to you ‘I can-’ ‘And Nina’s not going to help you either!’ you say. ‘If you want to be stubborn and suffer, be my guest!’

You leave his room and move to sit by the window of his office instead. A while later Nina leaves the room, telling you Kaz has started to fix himself up. 

You stay in his office, trying to get your anger to go away. You close your eyes and imagine the sea, taking deep breaths. You can almost taste the salty air and feel the cold wind on your skin. You’ve done a pretty good job at calming yourself down, when you hear Kaz’ voice coming from his room.

‘Y/N?’ he says.

You open your eyes, walk up to his room and pause in the doorway. He’s sitting up on the bed. He’d taken his shirt off and put bandages around his chest. The cuts and bruises on his arms and face aren’t treated yet.

You always thought of Kaz as this indestructible man, who led a gang, and is considered one of the most dangerous criminals and most talented thieves in all of Ketterdam. But when he’s sitting on the bed, bruised and bloody, shoulders slumped and tired eyes, you see him for who he truly is: a boy who’s been hurt too many times before and needs help.

He holds out the bandages and wet cloth he used to clean his wounds. 

‘Could you...?’ he asks.

You notice he’s not meeting your eyes and realise how hard it must have been to admit he needs your help.

You nod and walk over to him. You take the bandages and the cloth from his hands without touching his skin, and drag out a chair so you can sit in front of him. You glance at the gloves that rest on the bed next to him. You put the bandages and cloth aside and grab the gloves.

‘What are you doing?’ says Kaz, looking at you as you put them on.

‘This way I can treat your wounds without having skin to skin contact.’ you say. ‘Maybe that makes it easier.’ 

Kaz looks at you and smiles.

‘You’re so tired you can’t even fight off your own muscles?’ you ask. ‘I’m pretty sure that’s the first time I've seen you smile.’

‘I smile more than you think.’ says Kaz.

‘hmm.’ you hum. ‘Sure.’ you say as you move to start cleaning his wounds.

You try your best to talk to him and distract him while you clean and bandage his wounds.

‘Why would your former captain go after me and not you?’ he wonders out loud after a while.

‘Because when you want to hurt someone, you don’t hurt them, you hurt the ones they care most about.’ you simply state.

Kaz is surprised. ‘You care about me?’

‘Of course I do. I never tried to hide that.’ you say. 

You continue to clean his wounds, unaware of Kaz looking at your face instead of your hands.

‘You really scared me, Kaz. I thought you were going to die.’ you mumble.

‘It takes more than a knife and one angry man to kill me.’ he says.

‘He tried really hard though.’ you mumble as you continue to clean and bandage his wounds.

‘But he didn’t succeed.’ says Kaz. ‘If it weren’t for you, he would have. You got me back to the Slat and got Nina to fix me up.’

‘After I basically forced you to.’ you say.

‘If you hadn’t, I would have done it all by myself. Who knows how that would have worked out.’ says Kaz.

‘I'm guessing not that good.’ you say, earning a small chuckle from him. 

You continue talking to him and treating his wounds. When you’re finished, you get up and gather the mess. You walk to the other side of the room to throw it in the bin, and then walk back to where Kaz is still sitting on the bed.

‘I know you don’t like this, but please try to get some rest.’ you say. ‘The Dregs can manage a week or so without you.’

Kaz nods and moves to lay down on his bed. You walk toward the door, but his voice stops you.

‘Y/N.’ he says, making you look over your shoulder at him. ‘Thank you.’

‘Of course.’ you say, smiling briefly. ‘And sorry, again. For getting beaten up because of me.’

‘A good beating every now and then never hurt anyone. Builds character.’ says Kaz.

‘Are you sure your brain didn’t get messed up?’ you say. ‘You’re talking nonsense.’

‘I’m merely stating facts. Now I've got another grudge to hold.’ says Kaz. ‘Now go so I can get some rest.’

You smile once more before leaving his room, shutting the door behind you. You had loved your life on the sea before it took a turn. But you’d gladly do it all over again if it meant you would find your way to Kaz.

You look down at your hands and notice you’re still wearing his gloves. You take them off and place them on his desk. After a while of looking at them, you head downstairs to tell the others what happened. 

A/N:  If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rules Here’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!!  Thank you for reading!  Much love,  Marit

[murfeelee]

Moderna Vaccination Updates

RL Woes

I have to get the vaccine today and I'm PISSED. Colleges are now mandating that absolutely everyone be vaccinated.

Before, they were just like: get tested negative, stay masked up, and quarantine yourselves for 5 days before returning to campus. As if I haven't been doing all of that myself since this whole mess started.

Now I have to be poked and prodded with effing needles, cuz effing covidiots can't seem to stay in their frikkin homes or wear a frikkin mask and wash their nasty frikkin hands; out partying in a pandemic like WHY; superspreading the strains left and right; treating everything like it's a joke; and listening to these stupid politicians about mask bans and drinking bleach, like omfg. 🤦‍♀️

Apparently they're only administering Moderna in my area, so Imma just do a walk-in and pray I don't get an allergic reaction or rare medical condition and wind up hospitalized; me with my luck. 🙄

[EDIT]

Alright, I’m back home. It’s been 2 hours--so far so good! 🙏

Immediately after getting the shot (I likely embarrassed myself, whimpering like an infant) the arm had a light tingle as if it had fallen asleep, but that was for a couple minutes. And now it’s back to normal.

I’m not feverish (yet), and as for fatigue, I’m always tired; I have insomnia, so who knows what I’m feeling. I’ll just take it easy and hope I don’t keel over.

Thank you all so much for all of your super helpful information while I freaked out!  ❤️😷

[EDIT2]

It’s been 8 hours, and I’m definitely feeling some slight muscle tension/soreness at the puncture area, like I spent all day leaning my shoulder against the world’s most busted armchair and should've gotten the Lay-Z Boy recliner instead; like my arm got in a fight with a doorknob and lost; like the yakuza took a baseball bat to me and I parried it with my shoulder using slick martial arts moves; like I fell from river deep mountain high and landed right where the evil needle stabbed me. 2/10 on the pain scale.

I’m delicate; send cookies.

[EDIT3]

It’s been over 24 hours now -- I went to work today (on Zoom), then took a nap, and yeah, the arm is getting progressively sorer. I’d say about 4/10 pain scale now. Still not running a temperature or feeling any kind of nausea, so that’s good. My nap might’ve been in response to a vaccine-induced headache & fatigue; or work-induced, or general stress-induced--I can’t tell? But the arm is starting to hurt more now, for sure. I might need to take pain meds for it if it gets any worse.

[EDIT4]

Coming up on the 48 hour mark soon, and I think the arm pain might’ve peaked yesterday, cuz the numb/sore/tightness is noticeably better now. Back to a 2/10. I still can’t apply underarm deodorant without wincing, but at least every bloody movement wasn’t causing the kind of pain I felt yesterday, praise heaven.

[EDIT5]

And the arm’s all better now! ^0^ It’s Friday, and 3 days after getting Moderna I can finally enjoy the weekend, without nursing a bum arm that feels like I got stung by the world’s largest wasp anymore!

[sonorousangels]

star wars au: sam as luke, a humble farmer boy from tatooine who’s secretly full of both rage (against the farming community as a whole, he hates farming and would rather become a space lawyer or something) as well as strange visions of future (which, much to his grandpa’s chagrin, don’t involve any breaking news about the next harvest). he doesn’t have any droids - he’s kinda useless with technology, to be honest - but what he does have is a really nice pair of gardening gloves and a rebellious streak three parsecs wide.

then, of course, we’ve got dean as leia: the senate’s most beloved troublemaker, causing commotion on purpose and privy to way too much important shit on accident (courtesy of being the only son of senator singer). his hobbies include tinkering with his old-ass droid (a sleek little thing named baby), partying with other politicians’ spoiled kids, and also getting kidnapped by the empire in his spare time.

and finally, cas as han solo. he lives the life in this au, fucking around in his wreck of a spaceship, making questionable deals of questionable benefits with questionable people, running away from his past, what’s not to enjoy? he’s good with a blaster, doesn’t believe in jedi, have you ever seen him without this stupid coat on? that’s weird. 

i’d also like to nominate crowley to play chewbacca’s role, but without the furry costume, no. he looks exactly like he does in the show, down to the black suit, but he speaks exclusively in gibberish everyone except for sam seems to have no troubles understanding. rufus plays obi wan kenobi, obviously, because who else, people? who else? and rowena is yoda and uhhh chuck can be jabba hut i guess. he’s got the range. 

someone please write it & earn my undying loyalty. i don’t know what the plot of this is tbh, but do you really need a plot to enjoy a good star war? i just want to see john winchester in an ugly mask, stabbed with a lightsaber 😌