#so my second year of the course was fully online

[genderqueer-karma]

crying real tears my japanese teacher came back to the states after going back to japan in 2020

[jiminrings]

four seven eight, phase 3 (1)

pairing: jungkook x reader

wordcount: 9k

glimpse: jungkook's secure when it comes to being a husband and a dad, knowing that he grew to love being both after everything you've been through. what he isn't so secure about is the possibility that it's everything he'll ever be.

alternatively, jungkook pursues his dream of making a film, even if it means making your rival his main lead behind your back.

[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale — complete series masterlist, from phase 1 to 3 ]

[ the return of 478jk (derogatory), major angst, fluff, the weight of devotion except jk's mean this time, flashbacks to phase 1 (im so sorry), the both of them r in an identity crisis, The Return of yoongi, yearning and the ache of unfulfillment all over, eventual redemption ]

notes: FINALLYYYYYY after a long wait, phase three is finally here :-) the og era of 478 is a time i'll truly never forget so now that i'm putting them in Several Inconveniences again, i look forward to creating another era with u citizens!!! mwah thank u love yew

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!!

Jungkook likes to be needed.

He likes to be needed fully, sometimes even all at once to the point that every mention of his name makes him think that his assistance is needed. He wants to be needed like the way you rummage through your old film canisters that you dumped in a large drawer just to retrieve a specific picture of him; needed like the way you sigh in relief when you find said roll.

Jungkook wants you to seek him in a crowd, past all the banners of your name from your fans and lanyards of your staff, and ask specifically him for a cold water bottle he keeps in his bag for you. As a matter of fact, he wouldn’t even mind if you ask it from him indiscreetly — he wants to be needed, even if neither of you are alone with each other.

He’s used to the feeling of being needed because it’s practically routine for him. The way Jungkook loves you has changed and evolved (needlessly to say for the better) through the years, and although he tries to look for the balance in it all, there’s a tiny, tiny part of him that wonders what would’ve happened if neither of you changed.

It’s perhaps the change in seasons, or maybe it’s the build-up of the stupid little things Jungkook’s seen recently; one of those things happen to be a ridiculously long thread by your fan, who happens to also be a fan of Yoongi, assuming that your marriage with J*ngkook (that’s exactly how they typed his name out) is ending, hence your recent collaboration on a brand deal. Jungkook, of course, has half the mind to go on his secret stan account and snark at said poster before reporting, but even then, there’s an itch in his mind that he can’t scratch.

Whatever weather it is outside nowadays or whichever stupid little thing pisses him off online, Jungkook can’t shake off the nagging question of what if in his mind.

When Jungkook cleans your water bottle every night for you to take to set the next day, he wonders if the two of you would still be together if only he didn’t rush to your place by the exact second your month-long break ended, right when he takes off the rubber from the cap to clean the ridges thoroughly.

When he blowdries your hair (even if you tell him not to bother) after you begrudgingly take a shower because you can’t sleep in bed after going outside and not washing up the second you come home, he wonders if you would’ve kept loving him even if the very incident with Sora didn’t push him to change, right when he sees you close your eyes while his hands scratch your scalp.

When Jungkook sounds out syllables to Hwayoung and tries his very best not to baby-talk her (he can’t help it sometimes) as he recounts his day to the toddler, he wonders if you would’ve even had a daughter with him if he stayed the same silent lover that he used to be, right when she parrots your name back to him with a smile.

“Young-ie’s probably starting to need me less and less,” he sighs to you with a pout, eyebrows knitted in concern as he gives you his rookie version of a blowout he’s still trying to perfect. Jungkook can’t flick his wrist the way professional hairstylists do, just in the same way you can’t pick up why he’s brought up the thought out of nowhere.

“How could you say that? She’s the biggest daddy’s girl ever,” you chuckle, placating him with the truth despite your initial confusion. If you weren’t fully awake awhile ago, you certainly are now — mostly because Jungkook springs up an unbelievable idea, and partly because whenever he tugs the brush at your hair, your whole head comes along with it.

“Not really. More like biggest mommy’s girl, you mean,” he defensively scoffs, apologizing quickly when he hears you wince at a particular experimental tug he does on your ends.

“Should we wake her up right now and let her decide?” you murmur, your eyes locking with his on the mirror.

Jungkook, at his most comfortable state, wearing ratty oversized pajamas and glasses on his face that he’s yet to update the prescription on, has never felt more competitive in his life.

“Well we could-…”

“I was joking,” you deadpan, the silence between the two of you getting long enough to the point that you suddenly find yourself laughing, effectively getting Jungkook out of his daze.

“… I knew that.”

You may have had an inkling about Jungkook feeling slightly off before in the past weeks, but all it took was his random, unprompted question tonight for you to solidify that seed of concern in your chest.

Jungkook likes to be needed, even if he can’t say the same that you need him as much as he thinks you do. He thinks it’s a perfectly rational feeling to want to be needed by both your wife and your daughter, and although he’s not as receptive to being needed as much by anyone other than his family, the feeling still stays the same.

He has all the time in the world. You’ve enabled him to do so even if he’s the one mainly looking after Hwayoung while you worked, but despite that, Jungkook doesn’t feel needed enough.

There’s an itch in his mind that he can’t scratch with neither your constant affection nor Hwayoung’s grabby hands. There’s an unplaceable, agitating urge in Jungkook’s chest to put a pause on everything and be back to who and what he used to be, despite your affirmation that he is needed.

There’s that tick going on in Jungkook’s brain that amplifies everything he does to seem wrong; that makes him grumpy when he wakes up to prepare you breakfast whenever you had early shoots, that makes him purse his lips when his daughter asks him to watch the same movie with her for the third time in the week.

All of the uneasiness in him, however, disappears when Namjoon, the acclaimed screenwriter that he has for a friend (whom he actually met through you), calls him up with an offer that Jungkook can’t refuse.

It’s an offer that releases the ache from his bones, makes him want to blowdry your hair better, and watch the same movie over and over again with his daughter — but Jungkook postpones saying it to you when you come home and want nothing more than to be in his arms, and for Hwayoung to be in yours.

( ♡ )

Jungkook could wait more.

He convinces himself that he can because although there’s a date set for the short film that Namjoon’s pitched for him to produce, it hasn’t grown yet to become the unstoppable force against Jungkook’s immovable object: family.

He knows he needs to tell you eventually and that he’s not really asking for permission in the first place, but there’s a sense of guilt in him whenever the thought of breaking the news to you comes into mind. He’s not nervous per se because he knows you’re as supportive of him, if not more, like he is with you.

It just happens that it’s within the fine details that Jungkook truly feels hesitant to tell you that he has to leave for awhile.

Jungkook could wait more, and although that means he has to deal with the occasional voice in his head telling him that lying to you (even under the guise of protecting you) has the capacity to bite back at him, he manages. He swallows down the words whenever you unintentionally give him an opening to tell you about the news of him going abroad, and just settles for holding your hand.

He could wait more because telling you now wouldn’t be the right time, now when you’re on your day-off as you’re close to wrapping up your current project before moving to the bigger, more exhausting one; not now when you have a time of reprieve to spend with your family before taking on the biggest project of your career to date.

Jungkook hums to himself as he looks down on Hwayoung who has a tiny shopping cart to herself, her strikingly round eyes that she got from him (Hwayoung looks more like him the older she gets) looking up to his own.

“Hi, pretty girl,” he lulls, mumbling loudly enough for only her to hear. “You’d understand if appa left for awhile, right?”

“Left?” she questions, holding up her left hand at the mention yet she reels at his query, brows furrowing as she seems to digest the question. “Why?”

“Yup. That’s your left. Good job, baby,” Jungkook praises, the knot in his throat growing when he looks to his daughter who looks confused at the sudden query, again, that came out of nowhere. “You would, won’t you?”

Hwayoung hums because she doesn’t quite understand, but that’s the thing that Jungkook fears most — she’s young and smart and although he wants to use those facts to his advantage, he realizes that Hwayoung being the age that she is in now could also prove him to be dispensable.

Jungkook likes being needed, but he’s much too afraid of the possibility that Hwayoung won’t even recall him as soon as he leaves.

Your husband’s snapped out of his reverie when you go downstairs with a skip in your step, the tell-tale mischievous tone to your voice already predicting that Hwayoung would make the two of you chase after her in the backyard all day. “What are the two of you plotting again?” you ask playfully, hands on your hips as Jungkook chuckles at the sight of his two girls.

“Nothing!” Hwayoung giggles, the word slipping out of her seamlessly as she even shakes her hands fervently, accustomed to what you mean exactly with your tone of voice. She’s young and bright and you see so much of Jungkook in her, even if Jungkook would argue otherwise.

Jungkook’s dazed this morning with the way his gaze locks in from far away, his bottom lip bit between his teeth more often than not as if he’s always at war with himself.

“You okay, Kook?”

“Mhmm. Couldn’t be better,” he hums half-heartedly, his lips grazing your temple as he guides you to sit down on the carpet with him. “You finally slept for more than eight hours. That’s good,” he says as an afterthought, the pauses in between his words growing in distance as his gaze is fixated on everything but you.

Jungkook looks at your daughter who’s now pushing Miso around the house in her shopping cart, and while your cat (who’s always seemed to hate your husband) looks more than pleased at being played with, she meows to Jungkook and only at him with a hiss at the end of her spiel as if in warning — as if Jungkook is guilty of something that only the two of them know about.

Almost as if out of everyone in the room, it’s only your cat who knows that Jungkook’s lying.

Jungkook can wait, but he’s certain that he can’t wait any longer because if his brain is unoccupied for long enough, he’ll start to hear Miso cursing at him through her yowls.

“Hwayoung doesn’t look like she needs you any less,” you say gently, your line of sight following Jungkook’s as he tenses at your words.

“Oh,” he sighs, jaw grinding down to a halt. “Right."

Your words seemingly came out of nowhere, even if the both of you know deep down that they’re influenced by his impulsive thoughts from last week.

“You can say the same for me,” you add, not as an afterthought, but as a lesser-known fact that Jungkook seems to forget every now and then.

There’s a weight in his chest because all of a sudden, Jungkook can’t wait anymore. The itch in his mind has already been scratched too much that it had already bled and scabbed.

There’s a weight in his chest that reminds him he can’t wait anymore, because in hindsight, the weight of him and everything that comes with him settles on his shoulders.

Maybe, Jungkook doesn’t want to be needed as much.

( ♡ )

Jungkook drops the news on you while you’re folding laundry.

He was meant to go for sincere but the way the words leave him, right when you’re in the middle of folding Hwayoung’s pajamas that she’s about to overgrow in the soonest, it sounds as if he’s been dying to tell you; now that he has, he sounds beyond relieved.

“Namjoon offered me a script,” he announces, taking the pajamas from you to put in his pile as he sees your eyes widen, the remnants of the heavy mascara they used on you on set awhile ago highlighting your surprise. “He wants me to produce.”

“What?” you punctuate, tilting your head as you try to make sense of what Jungkook’s saying. You know he’s speaking and you’re familiar with said words; you just never expected for them to be compacted in the same sentence, meaning the way that he makes it out to be. “Kim Namjoon, as in the producer for In Terms of Eternity?”

He chirps at that, posture straightening as he tries to jog your memory. “Yeah. You’ve worked with him before and introduced us, then turns out Jin’s also a friend of his and-…"

“I mean I know Namjoon and that you’re friends with him, Jungkook,” you interrupt, trying to reel yourself in as you’ve lost your focus trying to fold Hwayoung’s clothes and talk to your husband at the same time. “But I didn’t know you were that close for him to ask you to produce something for him.”

Jungkook doesn’t completely crash from the high he’s in over finally telling you the news, but there’s that spike that flashes briefly over his face, the frown on his lips letting on more than he shows.

“What’s that supposed to mean?"

You sigh at the impossible position the both of you are in, the words that try to line themselves up in your temple being no match to the way they translate out-loud. “It means nothing. I’m just… surprised that he’d ask you to be a producer for his script, that’s all. It came out of nowhere.”

Jungkook recoils at that, a stubborn brow raised as he tries to keep his composure. “Because you don’t think I’m capable of being a producer?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” you inhale sharply, gripping a random article of Hwayoung’s clothing beside you to pace yourself. “Namjoon’s.. big. He’s established, and well, you’ve never become a producer before.”

“And you have?” Jungkook digs, even if it’s unnecessary to do so, and the way his face falls at the forthcoming regret that creeps up to him lets you know that he thinks so too.

“Jungkook,” you try again, quirking your lips to the side as you try to manage with the pace he’s set you up on. “I’m just surprised, that’s all. This is all new to me. All new to you, even. If anything, it’s nice that Namjoon trusts you a lot.

“He does. We’re close,” he nods, clearing his throat as he feels that the both of you could move on to the other phase of the news you had interrupted him at. “As a matter of fact, we’re taking it on a global scale.”

Jungkook doesn’t get why your face falls.

He doesn’t get why your shoulders rise and fall, not in relief, but out of controlled tension that threatens to pour over.

“What?”

“The script. The film,” he smiles, trying to get you to finish his sentence and connect the dots together but to no avail. “It’s… it’s — we have to film in the US for a few months.”

“What?” you repeat, the knot in your throat tangling up more and more hesitance in you the longer it stays there.

“I said, we have to-…”

“No, I heard what you said,” you interrupt, jaw clenching tightly as you try to grasp everything Jungkook has said.

You don’t get why Jungkook’s smiling.

You don’t get why he’s completely at ease and only in confusion as he sees you piece everything out.

“Then what’s the matter?”

“Kook, all of this is new. Everything you’ve just said is and will be new,” you chuckle humorlessly, running your hand through your hair in frustration as you try to relax. “I’m happy for you, believe me, but Jungkook, what you’re saying is serious. It’s a lot to take in,” you pause, eyes wide as you repeat the words to yourself. “You. Producing. In the US, of all places, a-and for months.”

There’s not one exact emotion that runs through you because the longer that Jungkook looks at you, ecstatic, while you’re weighing what he’s just said like a bag of bricks — you feel even more conflicted.

Your husband wrings his hands together, nervously smiling at you as if he’s asking for permission, but the both of you know that his mind’s already set. He thinks the opportunity of producing a short film that’s been drafted by his friend is a once-in-a-lifetime thing, eager to take off even if he’s had no experience at all in the industry.

“I don’t know, baby. It’s just been so long since I got this excited and alive, y’know? It’s a nice change of pace and I get to do something nice-…”

“Isn’t being with your daughter nice?” you ask abruptly, unable to mask the conflict that’s been brewing in your mind ever since Jungkook pulled you aside to talk. You feel hesitant; disconnected even from wrapping your head around his wording.

Even convincing yourself that you’re just spent from working sunrise to sundown doesn’t work. No matter how hard you try, Jungkook’s tone remains as is.

“Y/N,” he sighs, lips in a tight line as he screws his eyes shut. “Don’t start.”

“I’m not starting anything, Jungkook,” you grit, crossing your arms in defense. You feel guarded more than ever, not because you’re the one whom he’s pertaining to, but because your Hwayoung is involved and you won’t sit around for it. “It’s just that when you put it like that, it sounds like taking care of Hwayoung is a chore.”

You used to be sure awhile ago that you were seeing double because in between memorizing scripts and going from schedule to schedule without any time to rest in between, you’ve been worried sick because Jungkook hadn’t texted you the whole day. You were shocked enough to come home to your daughter playing by herself downstairs (with Miso watching her the whole time), even more-so when you saw Jungkook engrossed in a highly-enthusiastic phone call.

Jungkook sighs as if talking to you completely exhausts him, pinching his nosebridge before muttering under his breath. “Like you’re one to talk.”

“Excuse me?” you blink in surprise, tilting your head in sheer confusion. You’re about to shrug it off but he does that thing again, the one where he almost rolls his eyes at you but realizes it at the last minute.

“Nothing.”

“Say that again, Jungkook.”

“My god,” Jungkook groans, throwing his head back. He runs his hands through his hair frustratedly, sucking in a rushed breath. He looks straight at you when he gives his grievance. “I’m just saying! Why do you get to live out your dream but I don’t?”

“This is my job,” you bite back instantly, the second it took for you to digest his words being enough time for him to groan again. “If it were up to me, do you think I’d work six days a week? Do you not know how much it kills me to stay away from my family?”

You’re at a loss for words, the tiny bit of insecurity you have being dug up once again. You feel guilty because you actually don’t — you know to yourself that you still dedicate so much of yourself to Jungkook and Hwayoung even if you work full-time.

Jungkook chokes up a laugh in front of your face.

“Then quit your dream if you’re so miserable.”

Your jaw clenches quickly in annoyance, unable to retain the disbelief that builds up in your chest. “My dream is my job! It’s why we’re living this life in the first place, Jungkook! Your dream is this project that was pitched to you like what, two weeks ago?”

“Can I not live my life the way that I want to?” he asks exaggeratedly, eyes wide in defense. “Why am I only your husband and why am I only Hwayoung’s dad? Why can’t I go to the US a-and try things out? Why can’t I be free from all this even for just a while?”

Your mouth falls apart at that, your moment of shock simultaneously being Jungkook’s instance for guilty. He wants to reel it in right then and there, but the small part of his pride grows to hold him back.

“Do we hold you back that much?” you whisper, the headache that has been building in your head since this morning shrinking to the size of Jungkook’s words. “What are you getting so angry for? I’m not saying no. I’m asking you why you’re so hellbent on suddenly leaving to do this.”

A large part of you, if not all, feels more disappointed than angry. Hwayoung has not and should never be an afterthought for the both of you yet Jungkook brings her up with you like mere variables.

You can grasp the fact that being a parent is a full-time job like yours yet what you can’t get a hold of is your husband’s apprehension; his sudden need of pursuing something beyond your family.

“Because I’m scared, Y/N,” Jungkook whispers, exhaling heavily. “I’m scared that this is all what life could ever be for me.”

It’s only when you’re completely silent that he comes back to the severity of his words, the tension that’s been building up in him breaking the moment that you break eye contact with him.

“I’m sorry for being your wife.”

“Baby, that’s not-…” Jungkook tries to correct himself, hot on your heels as you get up from your seat on the couch. You’re not even speeding up yet he catches you just as urgently, the hold he has on your arm doing little to put you at ease.

“And I’m sorry for making you a dad.”

“Y/N, sweetheart, I’m-…”

“You should do this project if you really want to,” you quip, back still turned to him as you enter the bedroom. Jungkook noticeably stops in his tracks, the furrow in his brows fading because you’ve put him on whiplash.

“What?”

“You’ve held down the fort while I was out being the breadwinner. It’ll be nice for you to do your own thing,” you smile tightly, eager to sleep on the whole thing just so you don’t stay hung-up for too long.

“What about Hwayoung? What about your film? They want it to be an entry for the Academy, right?” he asks in concern, different from the worry he had awhile ago when he thought you were against him leaving.

You nod, easily shrugging despite the weight on your shoulders. “I’m her mom, of course. She’s gonna come first. And for the film, I think I can still do it. I’ll juggle them both if I have to.”

Jungkook nods, eyes set on the floor. He didn’t think this far at all.

“Do you want to hire a nanny? I know a friend.”

“I’ll pass. I don’t trust nannies.”

There’s an overwhelming silence that engulfs the both of you, the white noise machine in your nightstand unable to fill it completely. Jungkook looks at the ceiling while you look at Hwayoung who’s sprawled in the middle of your bed, clutching Miso like a teddy bear — she already fell asleep waiting for the both of you.

“I didn’t mean what I said awhile ago, I’m sorry. It came out the wrong way,” Jungkook apologizes after some time, hand darting out to hold yours while you only hover above your vanity, taking off all of your jewelry except for your wedding ring.

“When do you leave?” you ask, still unable to meet his gaze.

“Next week,” he clears his throat. “When do you start filming?”

You nod, coming into terms that Jungkook would leave no matter what you say. “Next week.”

You’re arranging the covers when your husband tries to hold you again, voice strained and rushed. “Y/N, I really am sorry. I love being your-…”

“Shh,” you interrupt, pursing your lips. “Hwayoung’s sleeping.”

( ♡ )

You asked for a day off.

You’ve rarely ever asked for them throughout your entire career because you were built on the mindset that at the end of the day, you’re also an employee no matter what gig you land. Be it the cameos you used to book with Yoongi or the titular characters you take from studio after studio, you’re still the employee who had worked her way up fairly.

You didn’t ask for it during that instance when you fell sick after back-to-back shoots because you didn’t want to waste anyone’s time. You didn’t ask for it when you woke up with the type of fatigue that settled in your body no matter how hard you closed your eyes or laid your head against the cushions.

You’ve never asked for it for your sake, but you’ve asked for a day off now because Jungkook’s leaving for a place you can’t come and go to as you wish.

Unlike your house or the hotels you book for him and Hwayoung to be at whenever you have to film out of town, Jungkook’s out of reach. He’s one call away, granted that your timezones match up and there’s a connection strong enough for it to continue without a hitch. He’s far from your grasp and he will be for months on end, and you don’t think you can ever stomach working on the same day he’s leaving.

“Are you seeing me off at the airport?” he asks during the car ride, voice audible enough for only you to hear and not Hwayoung who’s sprawled across both of your laps, sleeping soundly with her plushie that resembled Miso.

“I will, but I don’t think I can see you off near the gate. I can only manage up to here,” you answer honestly, willing yourself not to break down even if the both of you are still in the car, away from any prying eyes of the media that lurks outside. “So can Hwayoung,” you add, a large part of you being grateful that she’s asleep when Jungkook has to leave so neither of you would hear her cries.

Jungkook sees that hesitance in you, the same kind that softens him into fragments.

“It’ll only be for awhile, okay? Just for a few months,” he smiles tightly, rearranging his backpack next to him, the keyring that held Hwayoung’s second-favorite toy (not the ultimate favorite because she won’t ever let him take it) clattering loudly. “I love you,” Jungkook murmurs. “Do you know that?”

“Mhmm.”

“Say it back.”

You refuse to do so because saying it back feels finite, perhaps even forced, because although you love Jungkook, saying so at the moment only weighs you down as reality sinks in. “This is gonna be easy for us, right?"

“It’s not like we’ve never been in a similar set-up before,” he shrugs, the pout on his face casual as he tries to level with you.

“But this is different, Jungkook. This is beyond different. We have Hwayoung and now, we’re both working,” you stammer, chest rising and falling as you wrap your head around everything. “This— this isn’t Seoul to Jeonju. This isn’t a leave by day, come back by night type of trip. This is-…”

“You’re freaking out,” Jungkook interjects, his soft yet stern voice cutting through your thoughts as he lays a hand on your thigh, the platinum of his wedding band looking right up at you.

You surrender in defeat, not because you’re fighting with your husband, but because there’s simply no other answer he could ever conjure for you as to why this is happening.

“Why aren’t you? Why am I the only one scared?” you whisper.

“You’re not supposed to be.”

“Of course. It’s not like you— we put everything on the line,” you clear your throat, looking down on your shoes as you convince yourself. You ignore how you’re still not entirely aware of what’s with Jungkook’s project, other than the fact that Namjoon’s the screenwriter, all in favor of giving you a semblance of sanity before Jungkook leaves you and Hwayoung. “Right?”

( ♡ )

You wonder if Jungkook already ate breakfast.

You wonder if he ate the supposedly excellent in-flight meal that comes with first-class tickets, or if he ate the ramen he’s always had a penchant for eating especially during your trips, whether by land, sea, or air. You wonder if he’s grumpy with the altitude and the way he has to pop his ears ever so often, along with the way he always seems to be too long for airplane seats turned into beds.

You call but Jungkook doesn’t answer, even if you know he’ll never not purchase in-flight wifi because he’d rather knock himself out than have to read a book or something of the sort. You message, but then again, your husband doesn’t answer, even if you know he’ll much rather reply via text than to record a voice note because he’s shy with people hearing him in public spaces, albeit closed.

Hwayoung waits patiently beside you, swinging her legs back and forth on the couch as Miso stays up with her. She should’ve been in bed half an hour ago but you let her stay up with you, all in the pursuit of getting Jungkook to respond.

“Appa?” she asks again after a minute of you trying for her dad but through another app, her pout reminding you of Jungkook’s who’s unreachable.

You try not to frown in front of her, leveling yourself as you settle for kissing her forehead to cover up the sigh that originates deep from your chest.

“Not yet, Young-ie.”

.

.

.

There’s no text from Jungkook when you wake, but there is a picture of him in the buffet of the private lounge he’s staying at during his layover.

Atleast Jungkook did eat breakfast and Hwayoung was able to sleep without him (the first of what you dread is many), nevermind the dull thrum in your chest in Jungkook’s absence.

( ♡ )

Hwayoung's been behaved the whole time you were on set.

With Jimin prioritizing his voluntary role of being a babysitter to your daughter over his position of being a manager to you, you became instantly comforted at the reassurance that you're not in this situation alone.

It's only been a week since you started working right after Jungkook left, his absence rearranging every system you've previously had in place. You do your very best to have Hwayoung still thriving, and even just the reminder that you are succeeding at being the only present parent for the meantime melts all of your fatigue away.

Your trailer's more equipped for her than it is for you, the space apparently reminding Hwayoung of home so much that it's enough to make her remind you that Miso should go join the both of you sometime. Your dressing room's always been hers, and so has been the affection of everyone close to you.

“I take my role of godfather very seriously.”

Yoongi explains even if you haven't asked him anything. In fact, you weren't talking to begin with. It's not in his nature to talk for the sake of talking (that's Jungkook's), but even with Hwayoung in his arms and you still being lost in your thoughts, he can't help but to feel concerned.

“I can tell," you snicker, finally taking notice of the sight in front of you. The earpiece that was previously on Yoongi is now slung over Hwayoung's shoulder, obviously too big on her. She wanted it as an accessory (it reminds her of the toy stethoscope she'd put on Miso as a collar) and with Yoongi being himself, he can't bring himself to say no.

Your shooting day's nearly over and although today wasn't as long as your previous record of hours on end, you already seem exhausted. Yoongi, of all people, knows what scenes wear you out. You hated doing monologues as a rookie and still despise monologues (but with random, out-of-place advertisements in between) as a veteran — you’ve done neither today.

"What's with the frown?" he asks gently, not only because Hwayoung’s been quiet for the past two minutes and she’s getting groggy, but also because if he were to ask you any louder, he feels as if you’d break.

"It's nothing," you answer automatically, looking at Hwayoung to ground yourself. "Just usual family things, I guess."

"Trouble in paradise?" Yoongi asks with a chuckle, abruptly stopping his fit of amusement when he gets goosebumps starting from the tail of his spine. He instantly recognizes it as deja vu. "I've asked you this before, haven't I?"

The realization doesn’t hit you until he points it out.

"Mhmm," you hum absent-mindedly, playing with the hem of your dress. “I don't think the problem now is anything like how it was before, though."

One night several years ago, you and Yoongi were sat side-by-side in the booth of a club, the heartbreak you had over what Jungkook’s done (and haven’t, at the time) being the wedge between you.

Now, Yoongi’s standing in front of you while you’re sat down, your daughter with Jungkook in his arms.

“Me neither. I don't know how you and Jungkook can encounter any problem worse than last time, to be honest," he chuckles, shaking his head at the recollection of the hell you’ve been through. "Also, I think I can say that because I literally don't know what's going on with you. But if you do tell me-!"

"You're so nosy,” you snort, the brief moment of playfulness welcome because your head aches the longer that you dwell over your worries.

"I can be the judge to see if what you're going through now is worse than before," Yoongi shrugs to fake nonchalance, unaware that you’re gasping in awe until you kick him lightly in the shin.

Hwayoung’s asleep in his arms.

"She's never did that with anyone before," you murmur, fishing for your phone to take a picture, but not before quickly skimming to see if Jungkook’s sent you any messages; he hasn’t. “She only either sleeps in mine or Jungkook's arms. Not for my parents, not for my in-laws. Just me and him."

Yoongi smiles proudly, stroking Hwayoung’s hair proudly. "What can I say? I'm godfather of the year."

He only sways her gently back and forth, rocking her with the patience and attention that remind you of Jungkook’s when Hwayoung was a newborn.

You’re calm and quiet to see her adjusting so well already, but you can’t help but to feel lost because you feel the exact opposite. No one’s gonna stroke your hair for you and tell you to take your time — those are Jungkook’s tasks alone, yet your grievances are also because of him.

"Jungkook's producing this short film in the US. It's by his friend," you mutter under your breath after some time in silence. Yoongi flicks his eyes up at you as if you’re talking about the weather, careful not to make you feel more conflicted than you already are. “You know… by Namjoon.”

"Since when was he into that?" he asks out of curiosity, eyebrows furrowed because he didn’t know that your opening line would ever transition to this point in the conversation. Yoongi catches a second wind the longer he processes your words, the scoff that leaves his lips making his bangs loose despite the hairspray on them. “Since when did Jungkook and Namjoon belong in the same sentence?”

"I don't know either.”

"So we're both producers now?" he snickers, the teasing already coming natural. "Nepo husband alert."

You roll your eyes in recognition, clearing your throat as soon as the laughter died between the two of you. “We got into this argument and I don't know, I-I realized I was being selfish for a moment because I didn't want him to go at first, you know?" you admit in full sincerity, exhaling the lump that forms in your throat. “He said he was afraid that this is everything he'll be. My husband, Hwayoung's dad. So on and so forth."

Yoongi only listens this time, giving the occasional hum there to remind you that he’s still there.

"And last night, he, uh, he forgot to call," you gulp, already feeling the weight of your worries settle in your stomach. "The call wasn't even for me. It's for Hwayoung because he promised he'll still read her whatever she wants."

The three of you cherish that time together because normally, it happens as soon as you get home from work. Hwayoung’s long graduated from storybooks and has now branched out to the most ridiculous texts that Jungkook indulges her with nonetheless — from the ingredient list at the back of milk cartons, and all the way to Reddit threads of how cats find their way back home to owners.

"He's been secretive about the whole thing and I-I… I do that too with my projects, I get it. But only at first because I'm literally bound to an NDA," you stammer, pinching your nosebridge to get past the frustration. “I’m just-…!" you give up, admitting the truth. "I did some snooping."

"And?" Yoongi prompts, tilting his head in anticipation.

"I think he's been secretive because the main lead's Eunsu."

Yoongi recoils at that, so much so that it almost wakes up Hwayoung.

"Eunsu? As in Park Eunsu?" he repeats, the scowl on his face getting deeper the more that you stay indifferent. “Eunsu as in your nemesis?"

You relent, the mention of her finally hitting close.

"Nemesis sounds a little childish."

Yoongi scoffs immediately, rolling his eyes at your correction. “I mean yeah, because people keep pitting her against you when she doesn't even come close," he shrugs easily, make you tut in warning. "What? I'm just saying what everybody's been thinking."

To know that you can still confide in Yoongi no matter what comforts you — what doesn’t is that this time around, your gut feeling’s stronger than it had been the last time.

"I hope I'm wrong."

"I hope so too," he exhales, shaking his head in disbelief. "What kind of asshole sleeps with his wife's enemy?"

"Don't put that out there,” you grumble, the unintentional yet weird arrangement of words making you dizzy.

"Sorry. It's a metaphor, dummy," Yoongi surrenders, clearing his throat. "Okay. Retake. What kind of husband produces a film featuring his wife's rival?

"Hopefully not mine."

( ♡ )

It takes little effort to love you.

Loving you specifically doesn’t have to be hard.

Jungkook thinks that loving you isn’t hard when you serve as the peace to his otherwise hectic and turbulent mind. You manifest into the comfort he looks for in all seasons, be it the heat pack you wordlessly put in his coat pocket or the scrunchie you put around his wrist no matter the weather whenever his hair got too long.

You don’t text him at every hour of the day whether you were working or not, but you’ve made it a point to always check up on him multiple times even if the both of you are at home, going as far to randomly waking up in the night to pause your breathing and check up on his with a hand on his chest.

It’s easy love — one that could be grasped by everyone because as the world has proved to him time and time again, you’re easy to fall with and for.

You may not coo and awe at every single thing he utters, but the adoration behind your eyes always makes him warm from the inside because you held onto him, no matter how anticlimactic his stories could be.

Neither you and Jungkook are easy, that much he knows.

He knows it because although it’s never been his intention to come home late during his allotted short break between filming (it’s disguised as a break even if he only came back to take care of work-related matters personally), you make it known that you’re irked with him for every other reason.

He knows that you aren’t easy because for the past three weeks he’s been gone, you’ve reiterated twice in the last hour alone how you’ve asked him again and again who will star in his short film. You’ve asked Jungkook repeatedly to give you details outside of Namjoon and the vaguest bits he could ever give you, establishing the fact that he isn’t even bound to an NDA.

It’s the persisting barrage of questions in your head that bothers you without a single break. It’s the hovering feeling of doom above your head because having no answers to any of them, on top of Jungkook closing himself off with or without the physical distance between the two of you and being Hwayoung’s sole caregiver, that your patience ultimately thins.

Your annoyance towards your husband is clearly obvious and it bothers him to the point of frustration. Jungkook’s been convinced since last week that if he just dodged your questions for long enough and blamed it on the connection of your call, he wouldn’t have to answer to you; he wouldn’t have to explain the fine details of the project he’s kept from you.

If he had only avoided you for long enough, you would’ve forgotten about the rumors surrounding Namjoon’s upcoming screenplay that had been leaked to the press, and the roster of actresses thought out to be the main lead of his short film.

If he had only ignored your pleas for long enough, he would have never succumbed to the preliminary guilt that comes with lying to you under the impression that he’s only being protective, pushing him to drink until his vision spins — enough for him that when he admits the truth to you, your face of heartbreak directed at him isn’t as anguishing.

“Fine, fuck it! Since you’re so nosy, yes. Eunsu is my main lead, there! She’s my muse!” Jungkook just about yells, breathless from the burn of alcohol in his throat that spreads all the way to his chest, and from the back and forth he’s been going at with you for the last hour.

“Why didn’t you tell me in the first place?!” you retort, fists clenching at your sides as the thought of Jungkook with Eunsu, with her of all actresses, in a foreign place at almost every minute of the workday irking you.

“Would it have made a difference? You’d still be angry at me,” he rolls his eyes, placing a hand on his hip as he tries to stabilize his gaze on you.

“And even then, you wouldn’t do anything about it, right? Because that’s just your nature, Jungkook,” you scoff, your dig at him being incredibly low yet you steel your pride, unwilling to back down at the thought that Jungkook’s been lying to you for three weeks– perhaps even longer.

He presses a tongue to his cheek as you pertain to the past loud and clear, the sarcastic nod he gives you making your breathing tremble.

“Why? Why does it have to be her?” you try again, this time with your jaw clenched so your anger won’t flare up because you’ve been dying to have a decent explanation from Jungkook for weeks.

“Why can’t it be her?” he counters. “B-because she’s what, she’s your rival or something? You’re jealous? Bitter?”

The knot in your chest tightens, the recall you have of the woman who had sabotaged you repeatedly when you were still a rookie putting a metallic taste on your tongue. She’s hindered you in ways that not even Yoongi could explain fully despite being the closest friend to you in the industry, the vitriol you’ve had for Eunsu in the past reviving back to life.

You have no words except for the fact that begs to be acknowledged without a single syllable.

“I’m your wife, Jungkook,” you exhale shakily, the gravity of it seemingly not enough for him because he refuses to use it as a reason to get on your side.

“Don’t you think I know that? Don’t you think everybody knows that by now?” Jungkook spits. “When I’m producing my film with Eunsu, I don’t want to be your husband, Y/N! I’m sick of it,” he seethes. “Eunsu has nothing to do with me. Why should I fight your battles for you? Why do I have to carry your grudges for something that doesn’t even concern me?”

Jungkook’s the drunkest he’s ever been in his life, yet he utters the clearest words you’ve ever heard him say.

“This is showbiz, Y/N. It’s inevitable for you to get caught up with shit.”

“You’re talking as if being my husband and being Hwayoung’s dad is a chore.”

“Because maybe it is!” Jungkook bursts with a cry, the tears that spring out of his eyes momentarily blinding him. “Because maybe, I’m fed up trying to be sickeningly devoted to you all the time.”

There’s something akin to white, hot, searing pain that spreads across your chest all the way to your temple, the tremble of your lips not enough for Jungkook to realize that you’re on the verge of sobbing.

“Sometimes I hate this. I… I-I hate this life I’m living because of you, Y/N,” Jungkook whispers. “I hate how you’re so, so perfect in juggling everything. I hate how I could spend an hour just convincing Hwayoung to eat a single carrot and you come in the room, and she finishes the bowl with a smile on her face. I-I hate how you never complain whenever you need to do late night feedings after a long day because I’m already snoring. I hate how with or without work, you’re still just—…” he stills, looking at you with a distraught gaze. “You’re still so content. You’re still able to be yourself like you’ve always been.”

There’s no words left in you; no thought at all that could ever pick you up from the ground and gather yourself the way you’ve always had whenever you and Jungkook had felt the furthest from each other.

“Jungkook,” you sniffle, even if he waves you off half-heartedly. “I’m sorry if-…”

“There it is. There it fucking is again!” Jungkook whines, foot agitatedly stomping against the floor as he pulls at his hair. “You’re apologizing for being so perfect in life that it’s making me feel bad!”

“But I’m not! I’m far from it, what the hell are you talking about?” you rasp, the sarcastic laugh that goes past your lips making his ears ring. “I’m sorry if it seems that way but I’m telling you myself that everything is not perfect the way you make it out to be. I’m sorry because it makes you feel bad, but if anything-…”

Jungkook raises a finger at you, his jaw tightening the longer he stews in displacement.

“Don’t. Don’t. Don’t tell me how content you are with everything despite being exhausted, or how you juggling everything is worth it. Don’t tell me how good of a dad I am."

“Then what can I say to make it lighter for you, Jungkook? What can I say that won’t make you resent me?” you grit in surrender, chest falling so lowly, you’ve forgotten to breathe for a long second. “Do you hate the life that we’re living now so much that you can’t even look at me?”

Love isn’t always a matter of ease and although it’s always stuck to you, you prove now that Jungkook coming home to you at this instance, in this light, that he makes love the most difficult thing.

“Do you hate the life that I gave you so badly?”

“I don’t,” he answers, mouth dry as his vision spins. “Sometimes. Tonight, though — maybe I do. It comes and goes.”

“Then what can we do about it?” you whisper, your vision hazy as you look at him. “Where do we go from here?”

“It’s getting late,” Jungkook only whispers, unwilling to look at the bed you share. “I have an early flight tomorrow.”

[misshoneyimhome]

Say My Name, Say My Name I Quinn Hughes 🖋️🌺

Requested? Yes / No

Summary; Based on the Tik Tok trend, calling your boyfriend “husband”

Tropes & warnings; established relationship; Tik Tok trend; fluff, marriage proposal; no warnings;

Other notes: For the second story of this TikTok trend, I've challenged myself with writing for Quinn Hughes for the first time 😊 To be honest, I didn't know much about him to fully capture his character, however, this is pretty much how sweet I imagine this boy to be 🤭🤍 Since I had a few different ideas of how to approach the request, this turned out to be nothing but pure fluff 🌺🥂

I hope you enjoy it 🌷🐰

Word count; 1.6K

・✶ ｡ﾟ

As the sun dipped low, casting a gentle glow over the bustling streets of Vancouver, you strolled alongside your boyfriend, Quinn Hughes. The city buzzed with its usual activity, providing a comforting backdrop to your conversation on this typical Thursday evening. And with the promise of a hockey-free weekend on the horizon, a mischievous idea had crept into your mind – sparked by a popular TikTok challenge that had been gaining traction online.

In recent weeks, you'd seen numerous videos of people teasingly calling their boyfriends "husbands," while recording their partners' bewildered reactions for entertainment. And intrigued by the trend, you couldn't resist the urge to try it out with Quinn.

After nearly three years of shared laughter and cherished moments in your relationship, you were confident that Quinn would find the prank amusing, perhaps even earning a reaction with a hint of panic. So, with a playful glint in your eye, you had naturally shared your plan with your closest friend, enlisting her help in pulling off the light-hearted prank.

As you’d proposed the idea, your friend, always up for TikTok trends, had eagerly agreed to assist. You’d decided on arranging a double date, which wouldn’t be out of the ordinary, planning for you to execute the prank while she would discreetly film Quinn's reaction.

So, as you sat in a cosy, almost half-empty restaurant later that Thursday evening, the weight of your impending prank began to settle in. Excitement and nerves mingled in your chest, your fingers tapping restlessly on the tabletop as you waited for the perfect moment to put your plan into action.

And finally, the moment arrived, hanging in the air with a mix of anticipation and uncertainty. As the waiter approached to take your orders, a surge of anxious energy coursed through you, your heart racing. Yet, with practiced ease, you smoothly transitioned into the pivotal moment. "And for my husband," you said, injecting a playful tone into your voice, "he'll have a glass of ice water and the pasta Bolognese."

The words hung in the air, a silent challenge to fate, while your best friend discreetly positioned her phone, ready to capture Quinn's genuine reaction.

Time seemed to stand still for a moment as Quinn's gaze shifted towards you, his expression a fleeting mix of surprise and curiosity. "Your what?" he murmured, his voice barely audible, yet you persisted, ignoring the amusement threatening your facade of confidence.

In that suspended moment, Quinn's initial reaction was genuine astonishment, his eyes widening in disbelief before a soft chuckle broke the tension like a gentle wave against the shore. 

And as the waiter then walked away following taking all orders, he left behind echoes of laughter. Quinn then leaned closer towards you; his tone laced with mock seriousness. "Husband, huh?" he mused, a playful smirk on his lips. "Guess I'll need to update my resume."

It hadn’t entirely been the shocked reaction you’d hoped for, yet you still found the situation undeniably amusing. Confessing the inspiration behind your jest, laughter filled the air. And as the night wore on, your little act slowly faded in the background.

However, unbeknownst to you, the innocent prank had sparked an idea in Quinn's mind.

Although he hadn’t exactly expected to consider such a significant step already at the age of 24, the notion lingered, intriguing and compelling. As the eldest among his brothers and in his most serious relationship yet, Quinn had pondered the concept for some time. He’d even briefly sought advice from his closest teammates on how to broach the subject, as he’d realised life was too short to wait for the perfect moment.

So, as he sat beside you, enveloped in shared laughter, he felt a newfound determination. With quiet resolve and a heart full of affection, he began laying the groundwork for a significant occasion, one that would hopefully change your relationship for the better.

A little over a week later, with the memory of your playful prank still fresh in his mind, Quinn found himself beyond excited and content about the idea. With determination coursing through him and a ring burning a silent promise in his pocket, he’d devised a plan.

His aim was to catch you off guard, to make the moment as unexpected as possible. And having noticed how you had emphasised the prank was nothing but a joke, he guessed your mind hadn’t dwelled on such matters. Which made it the perfect opportunity.

So, returning to the very same restaurant Saturday evening where the idea had originated, Quinn carefully arranged the setting for the action. Despite the absence of a best friend discreetly recording the scene, the familiar ambiance of the restaurant's softly lit interior and the intimate corner table added a serene touch to the occasion. So with a steady hand and a heart brimming with love, Quinn recreated the scene.

As the waiter approached to take your orders, he took a deep breath, and with a voice filled with emotion, he echoed your words from days prior, "And for my wife, she'll have a glass of Champagne along with some water and the cheese, spinach ravioli, please."

Your eyes widened a little in slight disbelief as the words lingered in the air, blending with the gentle buzz of conversation around you, and a chuckle escaped your lips of amusement at Quinn's unexpected play. You simply couldn’t help but laugh at the joke and how he replicated your playful tease from the other night with such precision.

“Wife, huh?” You chuckled lightly. “Guess I deserved that one - though I do enjoy the sound of it.”

However, this time, it wasn't a prank. As the waiter departed, leaving behind a soft smile, your eyes met with Quinn’s, flashing him an entertained smile. Yet there was a seriousness in your boyfriend’s expression, a rare sight outside of the intensity of a hockey match, and a curious furrow creased your brow as you couldn’t decipher his thoughts. But before you could ask him what was on his mind, Quinn gently rose from his seat, moving with deliberate grace to stand next to you.

“I’m glad you say that ‘cause…”

You shifted in your seat to face him, the air crackled with anticipation as he then slowly dropped to one knee, the world around you fading into insignificance, leaving only the man you loved, poised before you with a vulnerability that stole your breath away.

Your heart pounded in your chest as Quinn gently took out the little velvet box from his pocket, his brown eyes shining with an intensity that mirrored his deep emotions. 

“Y/n," he softly began. "I know you said it as a joke the other night, but... truth be told, it stuck with me. And I realised that… I do want to be your called husband. You mean everything to me. Without you, I'd be lost – even though I don't tell you enough, you make my every day brighter. I can't even begin to thank you enough for your endless support, for putting up with me and my career every single day. You never ask for anything, and yet you give so much love. I love you so so much, and I just can't imagine a future without you in it..."

With every heartfelt confession, your breath hitched in your throat, your mind swirling with the weight of his sentiments. Emotions surged within you, threatening to overflow as Quinn exposed his soul, sharing his fears and dreams for your future together.

And then came the question, hanging in the air like a fragile promise—a question that held the power to shape your lives forever.

"Y/n, will you marry me?"

It felt surreal, like a dream woven from the threads of your deepest desires and fondest hopes. Quinn on his knee before you, his vulnerability a testament to the depth of his love. And in that moment, tears glistening in your eyes, and a smile tugging at the corners of your lips, there was only one right answer.

Though struggling to find the words, you willed your lips to move and your throat to vocalise the response.

"Yes... Quinn, of course," you replied with excitement, the sound of soft applauses rippling through the restaurant. And with a deep relieved sigh, and a satisfied smile illuminating his face, Quinn rose from his kneeling position, meeting you in a deep, heartfelt kiss. 

Sealing the engagement your lips met with nothing but devotion, the world around you slowly dissolving, before breaking apart. Quinn's excitement was nothing short of palpable, his smile radiant as he carefully slipped the ring onto your finger, and he couldn’t deny that this felt better than any hockey match win. Perhaps besides winning the Stanley Cup. 

It was truly a beautiful ring. The diamond's shimmer mirrored the twinkle in his eyes as you admired the ring's delicate intricacies. And with a content smile, you shared another quick kiss before Quinn returned to his seat, and the waiter poured champagne to mark the occasion.

Raising your glasses in a toast, you again sealed the engagement with a clink, the bubbles dancing against your lips like promises of a future filled with love and joy. This moment was everything you had ever dreamed of. Though it had begun with a playful joke, it perfectly captured the essence of your relationship—full of laughter, love, and shared moments of joy.

And with your hands gently intertwined on the table, both admiring the new addition to your finger, you couldn't help but chuckle. "Looks like I really do need to update my resume," you playfully remarked, echoing Quinn's words from the other night.

And in response, your fiancé merely chuckled, his eyes brimming with adoration as he kissed your hand and held your gaze with unwavering affection. "Yes, I suppose you’ll have to," he smiled, his voice filled with promise and a love that knew no bounds.

[a-very-tired-jew]

You're not as informed as you think, and age does play a factor.

This is going to ruffle some feathers, but it needs to be said. You're not as informed on the I/P Conflict and the history of the region as you think, and age plays a major factor. Hell, you're not as informed on a lot of topics as you think. I want you to think about what you were doing 5 years ago. Were you still running around on the playground? Were you making dioramas for a science class? Were you in high school worried about being a first year? Were you just starting to pick out colleges or deciding to even go? Did you ever call a teacher by their first name? Now, there is a line that we hear thrown about that people don't fully mature till they're 25. While this is bupkis and misrepresents the research, it is true that the brain does not stop developing till sometime in the mid to late 20s. In fact, the brains of undergraduates age 18-22 and their respective thought patterns more closely resemble high schoolers than they do mid 20s and above. So what does this mean in the course of the I/P conflict? For one thing, this is your first incident. Your first I/P war. Those of us in our 30s and above have seen a good number of them at this point. I even remember when the use of child suicide bombers became a standard method for Hamas and other terrorist groups during the Second Intifada. As such, many of us are used to the manipulation that we see in this particular region. We're used to seeing antisemitism be dismissed and well intentioned people be manipulated. Many of us are just tired because you're going through the same shit we did at your age and we look back and go "oh, we were severely misinformed". Because this is your first, you're super passionate about it, but that passion can be manipulated. Second, you're not as smart or well informed as you think you are. This has to do with the age and maturation thing mentioned above. While 25 is an arbitrary number, there are some milestones that happen by then. By 25 you have had enough life experience to really start piecing together your education, your life experiences, your world experiences, and your respective beliefs into a coherent way of approaching topics. Hopefully by that age you're less likely to have the emotional outburst in response to a subject (think about the stereotypical slamming the door teenager behavior, many of us did that and we cringe thinking about it) and more likely to approach something in a levelheaded and informed manner. Unfortunately there is some research that shows evidence that Gen Z and Millenials are susceptible to propaganda and misinformation, with the former exhibiting behavior akin to Boomers. So keep that in mind that none of us are safe for misinformation, but some generations are worse than others. Now, who am I to say this to you? Some of you are quite mad right at the moment. Some of you have strived to be seen as well informed young adults or to be taken seriously, and in some cases you are. However...

I'm in my 30s and I have been teaching at the college level for a decade and some change now. By no means am I an expert, but I have enough experience to say something. The ages I teach are 18+, meaning I've had students that are typical fresh high school grads and students that are in their 50s. Myself and my colleagues have heard repeatedly from students the "I'm an adult, I know what I'm doing" line to only watch that 18-22 y.o. student fail miserably or come crying to us later. I have personally watched students go through the stages of grief as they realized in my classes that their pet science activism is not what they thought, but they've wrapped so much of their identity around it. You're still learning, and thinking you know more just because you read something online is an issue. You're also still growing and developing as a person. Recognize that you can be manipulated. Recognize that you can be wrong. Recognize your own inherent biases. Then do better.

[tenroses07]

My final thoughts on the neil gaiman allegations;

Do I believe the women?: Yes. While I do find it still a bit odd that there’s missing context, I think that’s a fault of the podcast and not the fault of the women. I hope that they come forward to more reputable news sources and give their stories fully soon.

Do I think this is a right wing conspiracy: Yes and no. I do not think all of this is one big lie, but I do think the journalism here is clearly biased and I do not think these women’s stories would’ve been aired if they (the journalists) did not believe there would be any political gain. I do believe that it could be possible that tortoise media is trying to slander those who have worked with him. I do not blame the women for this.

Do I still wish to see more proof?: Of course. I think it’s possible to believe victims while also still wishing to see more proof. It’s important to be critical still, but once again this does not mean that it’s okay to say these women are lying because you haven’t seen proof.

Do I think any fandoms for media he created should interact with him again?: No. He clearly has a record of abusing his position of power, and I do not think any fans should interact with him again for the sake of their own safety. This includes on any social media. If he returns to being online, don’t send asks or react to them. Don’t return power to him.

Do I think anyone who was worked with him is obligated to come out with their reactions immediately?: No. It’s entirely possible the news hasn’t made it to them yet. It’s also entirely possible that they could be still processing things after working personally with him. If we as fans are shocked in disgusted, then imagine how those who have worked with him feel. Do not condemn them for speaking out immediately, they have lives too.

Do I think you can still watch his shows?: I feel mixed about this personally. I think it’s a better idea to 🏴‍☠️, but I also understand he is not the only person who worked on these shows. 🏴‍☠️ing affects more than him, so personally I don’t see a problem with watching his shows as long as you condemn him.

Do I think you can still read his books: Yes, but it’s a bit different here. I do not think people should be buying his books now. If you want to own them, buy second hand. If you don’t mind reading online, then 🏴‍☠️. I wouldn’t really recommend checking them out at a library as that still does give him support since the library could decide to purchase more of his books.

Do I think you can enjoy media he’s worked on or created without supporting him as person?: 1000%. His actions and alleged perversions do not translate into any of his work from what I’ve seen. I think it is 100% possible to separate him from his media in this case, especially with Good Omens and his shows.

Do I think you should burn/trash your books or media by him?: I don’t see a point, but I understand why someone may want to do this. Everyone is angry and upset, and if you want nothing to do with his works anymore that’s 100% valid. I just personally don’t see a point since they’ve already been purchased, and unless you bought them recently and can return them, you’re not taking any money away from him. If you don’t want to keep his books anymore, I’d suggest donating them to a thrift store or a library.

Edit: I wanted to add a section here about the relationships he had with these women since I didn’t really mentioned it before, so here (TW FOR SA);

While the relationships themselves were consensual for the most part (besides the two allegations of SA) I still do not think they were right to be had. The power imbalance and age gaps are gross. They’re not illegal, but morally they’re incorrect in my opinion. I know one of these women was a fan of his, and I believe he took advantage of that. And im also pretty sure he was 40 years older than her at the time. That’s gross.

As for neil’s current response as featured in the article, I don’t think he’s telling the truth. He admits to having relationships with those women, which adds to fact that I believe he’s not a good person for having those relationships already where he clearly was the one in power. The false memories claim could have some nuance to it (it’s possible that it could be something that happens to that woman without it being stated on medical records) but I personally believe it’s an excuse on his end, true or not.

Of course, continue to be kind to each other online. Don’t berate those who are upset and confused, and don’t berate the victims either. For those who believe it’s still all a lie, you have no reason to believe he wouldn’t be capable of any of this. You don’t know him. He doesn’t know you. I urge you to rethink everything about this situation and take some time to process it on your own. Denying everything is not the way to go about this.

I believe that’s everything I have to say. If you read all this, I appreciate this. If you think my wording is odd in some places or if it seems I said something I didn’t mean, please let me know. I’m writing this all on a bit of whim so I can put my thoughts out there instead of keeping it all inside. Thanks again, and stay safe

[httpwintersoldier]

『 do it for me, doll. || bucky barnes x reader 』

pairing: pornstar!Bucky x f!reader words: medium summary: when life gets hard after the Avenger's disbandment Bucky has to find a new occupation, and you find it too.

『 part 2 』 『 part 3 』

With the Avengers and S.H.I.E.L.D basically gone, the income of the remaining members was up to them entirely, and sadly, given Bucky's reputation and very recognizable appearance, many employers were reluctant or even scared to hire the man.

He had found some jobs, however he'd quickly get fired after complaints or after customers stopped showing up out of fear.

It was a tough life for Bucky, learning to live in this completely new world, while also being painted as a monster despite all of the heroic acts he had done over the years... It made living life almomst impossiblle.

However, he didn't understand. Peter had taught him how to use social media years prior, since he was tired of having people ask for his "@" and then laugh in his face when he didn't know what it was, and according to the people on said social medias, he was "a total DILF", "a 10/10" and "adorable". Bucky did have to ask for clarification on some terms, but after a while he got the gist of it, and appreciated the compliments. But why was it that he was so loved online yet so hated in real life?

The struggle in job searching ceased when someone bravely suggested that he should do porn. At first he was shocked, thinking it was rude for "BuckyInMe_69" to even suggest such a disrespectful thing, but then he began considering it.

Money and compliments in exchange for undressing? What was the worst that could happen? Harassment and constant disrespect? Bucky already got plenty of that on a daily basis without getting his cock out.

After considering it for several days, and trying to find any other job that would take him, the soldier said fuck it, and began researching about his new job. Where to go, where to start, what to do...

Bucky soon found out that he was an absolute natural. It was awkward at first, as he himself was quite an awkward person at times, but his naturally flirtatious personality and eagerness to be adored worked in his favour.

The only downside was the conversation he had with his co-worker-turned-friend Sam when the news reached his side.

"Bucky why are people sending me pictures of penises saying it's yours? Tell me this isn't your dick on my screen."

The soldier just laughed and told him it was payback for all of the Red Wing taunting.

He loved the money, but most of all he loved the compliments and appreciation. It was a nice contrast from all of the insults and judgement he got, and he felt like he could open up more and be himself on camera.

On the other end, you stared at a "Sign-Up!" screen on your computer, wondering if you were desperate for sexual gratification to the point of joining porn live streams. And the answer, as you soon found out, was yes. Yes you were.

After making the account your teeth played with your bottom lip as you searched through the plethora of options, when a certain someone caught your atention.

Was that... a metal arm? Were they cosplaying as Bucky Barnes? That would've been messed up... But as you brought the screen closer and squinted your eyes to look at the man on the thumbnail you realized it was actually THE Bucky Barnes. On a porn site. Livestreaming.

You clicked on his livestream (just out of curiousity, of course) and were instantly met with a view you could've only dreamed of.

Bucky was on a chair leaning back, his torso fully on display, tanned and shining, and his thighs just barely showing, covered with a pair of tight shorts that left little to the imagination.

He smiled and greeted everyone with the cutest voice, and for a second you forgot he was once a prominent assassin.

As luck would have it, he had just started streaming and there were very few people there, so, without thinking, you went ahead and booked a private session, before someone else "stole" him away and robbed you of the view.

Fuck. Shit. Fuck, dammit. It was only when Bucky raised his eyebrows and spoke that you realized what you had done.

"Wow, a session so soon, I didn't expect it! To the lovely fan that bought the session, I'll meet you in my private room, to the rest of you, I'll see you soon!"

With a click from his side, the screen turned into the thumbnail picture, with a white text on top that said "Private Session Time! I'll be back soon".

You stared at it for a while before realizing that he was waiting for you and you should probably join the session.

You took a deep breath (or several deep breaths) before joining your 20-minute session. You pressed the big golden button and the screen that once was locked, turned into an image of Bucky. The camera angle was lower, so now you could fully see his body from the head to the knees, and the shorts he wore were long gone, now replaced by a pair of tight grey boxers that perfectly showed the outline of his hard-on.

"Hey doll, how are ya?" He greeted, when he noticed the company had finally joined.

"Good, how are you?" You typed nervously.

You watched as his eyes moved to read the chat. Your thumb was in your mouth and you nervously bit your fingernail, anticipating the response.

"I'm doin' good princess. We got a shy one in our hands, do we? Are you gonna let me see you?" He questioned, his hand finding his crotch area.

You looked around, wondering if you should do it, and you just figured fuck it.

You placed the pc in front of you, a little farther away, so the camara would catch everything below your neck. You then knelt in front of the pc and turned it on.

You were shaking as you did so, but the way Bucky spoke, in such a gentle, soft yet sensual manner instantly put you at ease.

"You look gorgeous, doll."

Bucky stared at your hardened nipples, that were protruding in the very short nightgown you wore.

"Thank you."

The Soldier smirked, he could sense your nervousness from the quietness in your voice.

"Lean back for me doll, and spread your legs, I wanna see how wet you are."

You obeyed him, slowly stripping from your panties, and leaned against the headboard. You spread your legs, giving him full sight of your pussy.

When you looked at the screen he had rid himself of his underwear too, holding his hard shaft with his mechanical arm. The view was so hot and erotic you swore you could cum just at the view.

"You're so fuckin' pretty doll, can you touch yourself for me?"

Your hand sneaked down your body until your fingers found your clit and began slwoly rubbing circles.

"That's a good girl, I wanna hear how pretty you sound."

His pretty blue eyes were half shut, filled with lust as he began pumping his cock.

"You look... really good." You said, shyly.

That got a smile out of him and he brushed his hair back with his free hand.

"Yeah baby? You like to see me jerk off to you?"

"Yes... Yes, I love it." You admitted, your hand speeding up subconsciously.

"Why don't you finger yourself for me doll?"

You slowly inserted two fingers in, stealing a loud moan out of you.

Bucky's hand sped up at the sight and at the sound.

"Shit if you sound this good now, I can only imagine how you'd sound if I was inside you, fucking you until that pretty head of yours could only think of my cock."

Your head hit the backboard the second you heard those words, and your hand sped up.

"I wanna hear you too, please Bucky." You begged, and his cock twitched at the way you called his name

Grunts and whimpers instantly left his mouth, and his chest began heaving.

"You're doing so good... so good doll."

You added some speed to your hand and added another one, that circled your clit.

Bucky couldn't cum, since he still had a livestream to get back to after your session, but the sounds your fingers made fucking your own pussy made it hard for him not to say fuck it and cum for you.

"That's it princess, you sound so good right now, I wish I could fuck you until you couldn't move your legs anymore."

"Oh my- fuck! Bucky I'm gonna cum."

He smirked, as he could now slightly see your face, bottom lip trapped between your teeth and eyebrows furrowed with pleasure.

"That's it princess, cum for me. I wanna see you cum."

His words were like a command, and so you came in front of him, with a cry for his name, your legs shaking from the thrill of the experience.

The timer on Bucky's side signaling the session was over had rang about five minutes prior to your climax, but he was obsessed with you, and wanted to make you cum more than he wanted to go back to the live.

He hung out for a second, still stroking his cock, allowing you to catch your breath, before speaking up again.

"Alright doll, our time's up and I gotta get back, but I hope to see you here again." Bucky said, a playful smile on his lips, and an enchanting look in his eyes.

You covered yourself, suddenly feeling very exposed, causing the man to laugh inwardly.

"You might. You might..."

"I'm hoping I do princess."

Those were the last words you heard before he disconnected and went back to the live. You sat there, cathcing your breath still, and thinking about the past twety-something minutes.

How was it that the best sexual encounter you'd ever had was with a man that wasn't even in the room with you!?

A/N: if this pops off and people are interested I can make a part two!

[prodigaldaughteralice]

So, I was tipped off a while ago by a post that’s probably still in my queue (I have a long reblog queue u_u;; ) that a few words were changed in the US edition of Monstrous Regiment. As it’s my favourite Discworld book, and I’d only ever read the US edition, I tracked down a second-hand UK first edition online and had a re-read as soon as it came, with my battered old US edition next to me so I could check when anything pinged me as ‘off’. Here’s what I found, not counting minor UK->US spelling changes like turning “girlie” into “girly”.

(There may be more that I missed, I didn’t have both copies open the whole time, but I’m pretty familiar with this book. As my sister teased me about when I mentioned I’d done this comparison, I did have it in my bed for several years as a teenager so I could reread it whenever my insomnia was hitting particularly hard.)

Spoilers from here on out, of course.

The first two are just kind of pointless? Changing “coprolite” to “coprolith”, which is just a less common word for the exact same thing, and changing “riff-riff-raff” to “riffraff” feels like they forgot Jackrum was playing drunk in that scene. Whatever. These don’t bother me.

There are a few UK->US type changes in the next one (“wooly vest” to “woolen undershirt”) which similarly feel pointless to me, but what really gets my goat is the last word. “The man’s bare chests,” plural, being changed to “the man’s bare chest”. Because that’s foreshadowing, but it’s not a giveaway, because on a heavier (cis) guy they do hang separate. It’s a nice little touch, and they took it out.

The next one is the one I’d been tipped off to, and it’s the change I’m the most annoyed about. “Turned her chair to the fire/around him the kitchen worked” -> “turned her chair to the fire/around her the kitchen worked.” I’m sure whatever editor changed it didn’t do so with any kind of malice or agenda, they just weren’t paying enough attention and thought they were fixing a continuity mistake, but it’s just such beautiful writing that they removed.

Because they’ve just had this incredible, delicate, vulnerable conversation about the girl Jackrum left behind him, and that that girl was him, and that he has a son out in Scratz and he doesn’t know what to do now that he’s leaving the army. Polly cries. And it’s Polly who suggests that he really can remain Jack Jackrum, he can go back to his son in medals and braid and be his father, and Jack gets to really settle in to the idea that he can be happy that way. Both those pronouns being “her” doesn’t feel wrong, necessarily; I always read it as Polly processing. But the switch between the two sentences is so beautiful. It’s a gentle closing of the conversation, it’s that girl being fully put behind him, and Sergeant Major Jack Jackrum (retired) getting to go on with his life.

The last one is just… odd. Inexplicable, and it’s the hardest to explain as just an editorial accident. They added a word that specifies something that was not previously specified. “One of them was Maladicta, in full uniform” becomes “one of them was Maladicta, in full female uniform.” I was thinking about it on this reread, and Mal is the only member of the squad who wasn’t publically outed at the Keep. Mal wasn’t involved in the actual raid— too busy gibbering and sucking on a sack of coffee beans— and at the trial Mal kind of stood in the back vibrating from caffeine overdose. Even Jackrum said “with vampires, who cares”. Only Polly knows about Maladicta.

And what that means is that Mal is the only member of the squad who could reasonably remain presenting as male in the army. Polly encourages a couple of young recruits in the very end that it’s their choice to enlist as men or as women, with Mal right beside her, and I think the original ambiguity there is really lovely— it doesn’t matter if Mal has an ‘a’ on the end at the moment, because Mal is there to help Polly fuck shit up, and that’s what matters. By adding the specificity, they just… took away a really nice bit of subtext, a really nice effect.

So yeah, I’m ticked off as a queer person about the (minor) subversion of the book’s general gender fuckery, but I’m almost more ticked off as a writer. Pratchett was so talented, and we talk about it a lot on a large scale of themes and motifs and characters, but he was also just so fantastic on a sentence to sentence level. This is craft! This is really beautiful, delicate writing, elegantly put together and perfected, and some US editors just. Took out some of it. And it’s still an incredible book! As I mentioned, I had it in my bed for years as a teenager so I could reread it over and over, it means a ton to me, it’s my favourite of his work and I love his work! But it hurts to see these little places where it was originally even better.

[yeehawpim]

What's your process in making comics

And how do you make something so good with such a simple art style!? 🥺

(if this has been asked before could you send a link to the post?)

Alright so ive been sitting on this ask b/c I already know it's a long answer aflskdjf

Write dialogue/text down in my notes app Sometimes it's just me sitting there like hghghg as music plays and I stare at my phone for 10min. Usually it's 12am thinking about stuff while I'm in bed and I type some piece of dialogue down real quick. I'm nowhere near as comprehensive as comic script I've seen online that they give examples for, like there's no direction on what's happening in panels or anyth because it's just for myself and I just sort of remember composition ideas if I have them on the spot

Literally start drawing 😂 As previously said I sometimes go into comics with comp ideas already, like for this one I knew I was going to divide the page going in. Or like I know this is gonna be 4 panels and pretty static. Other stuff I fully wing it sentence to sentence because I can't bother with thumbnailing 😅 sometimes this bites me on the ass because I spend forever drawing smth I have to toss, but I've gotten better at doing stuff fast

I use photoshop, so for vertical comics I've been following this tutorial for years

Vertical comics are a lot easier to structure composition-wise for me, I started out making those because it was less intimidating

The red arrow is your eye direction as you read it. For me it's always the bottom of a page is one less boundary to worry about. You can be less precise if the reader is automatically drawn to looking down b/c they're scrolling and never sees a full page laid out. 😂 Also if I want to pace something slower/further down I don't have to worry about having to cram it in y'know?

This might be a weirdly specific thing to mention but I'm always thinking about it when I make comics because...

lol I gotta make up for being too lazy to spend more than 30 seconds drawing a character

jkjk but yeah my interests are more in slapping the story in my head on the page. I like doing compositions and writing stuff that interests me. I get tired when I spend too much time fiddling with stuff, so if I can get smth across with a rough estimation I'm happy. This does limit the type of stories that can be told cuz certain more rendered styles just work better when you're trying to convey certain things but! there's lots of things you can do drawing simply too!

there's defs more stuff out there that doesn't follow what I'm doing, lots of different styles. Eg American superhero comics are super text-heavy and boggle my mind. This is just what I like to do cuz I like reading way too much manga/webtoons lol

you don't have to be super technical to make comics! go out there and make one if you've got an idea!

if you want to of course haha

hope this explains my process a little (thank you for the compliment it means a lot 🤠🙏)

[thefrogdalorian]

The Best of Both Worlds - Chapter Three

Din Djarin x Female Reader Modern!AU

❁ Series Masterlist ❁ My Masterlist ❁ Read on AO3 ❁

Word Count: 8323 Rating: General Summary: Your internet bestie arrives in preparation for the Star Wars convention you will attend together. Everything is set for the greatest weekend of your life! Until you arrive at the con and find yourself overwhelmed by all the crowds and noise. At least you have numerous incredibly realistic Mando cosplays to distract you from how stressed you feel, and there's one in particular which is uncannily accurate... Content Warnings: Reader struggles to eat due to nerves and feels anxious due to crowds. Also, not sure if it's really a warning, but there's some allusions to fandom discourse in this one, particularly how men in the SW fandom can behave towards women. So warning for fandom wank, I guess, but reader goes off on them ;) Author's Note: A very long update, wow. Honestly, this chapter was semi-autobiographical lmao. It was my exact response to how busy SWC was last year, even down to hiding under the stairs! Except I did not have a cool internet bestie (just my uncool irl bestie), nor did I stand up and speak in a panel like reader does. I did however see many amazing cosplays and the picture of the Din cosplayer is one I took there! :) Hope you like this one. Not sure for how long me updating every two days will last, but my mind is fully focused on this story for the moment, so who knows! Thank you once again to the wonderful @suresnips for being my beta! Couldn't do it without you ♡

3. This Is Why (I Don't Leave The House) [Reader's POV]

You could scarcely believe that the person you had spent so many hours of your life gushing over The Mandalorian with online, was really here with you in your little flat. Ria had arrived a few hours ago and you two had instantly gotten along famously. Somehow, it was as though you had always known her, even though this was the first time you were actually meeting in person. 

You had left your flat earlier in the evening with a mix of trepidation in the pit of your stomach and overwhelming excitement crackling like electricity as it coursed through your veins. The prospect of finally meeting someone who meant so much to you was both daunting and exhilarating. There were so many things that could go wrong, since you had never spent any time together in person and were unsure of your dynamic in that sense. There was pressure, too, particularly bearing the distance Ria had travelled from the U.S. in mind, plus the money you had both spent on ForceCon tickets. 

It was a big deal for you to invite someone over to your flat to stay with you like this. From morning until evening, the two of you would be in each other’s presence constantly. At least it was only for five nights… Ria was leaving first thing Tuesday morning as you had to get straight back to work. You quieted your nerves with the thought of how brief her visit would be, until a notification lit up your phone and made your stomach drop:

[thisistheslay]: 18:36: I’M HEREEEEEE!!!! 

Ria must be here at the station. You searched around frantically for her, trying to spot her amongst all the commuters that were barreling through the station. You realised, then, that you had no idea how tall she was compared to your own height. That was something you had never needed to know online. Finally, you spotted the brown hair and thick black glasses that you instantly recognised as your internet best friend’s, making her way towards the barrier and the incredible weekend of nerdy fun that lay before the two of you.

After approximately five seconds of being in each other’s presence, you knew that all your fears were unfounded. 

As Ria had fumbled with her phone to make the contactless payment and make her way through the gates, the way her face had lit up at the sight of you instantly allayed your anxiety. The bone-crushing hug she had pulled you into had helped too, it was hard to believe she was actually here with you. This hug was for all of the hard days you had endured, separated by many miles when the two of you had just wished you could wrap the other in your arms and be there for them. 

It struck you how poised Ria was in real life, too. At the end of the day, the two of you shared a pretty nerdy hobby, it would have been understandable if she was quiet and a little nerdy. But here your internet best friend was, pushing her way through the busy rush hour crowds and throwing the death glares of the commuters, mainly old men in suits, who had glared at the two of you for daring to embrace in the middle of the station hall and block their way from making it to the next tube. 

It always baffled you to witness how eager people were to push and shove their way through others for the sake of arriving at their destination just two or three minutes earlier. Somewhere along the way, it felt as though a basic human kindness had been lost in how Londoners seemed to interact with each other when it came to public transport. 

But that was a gripe for another time. Your best friend was here, you would not let anyone ruin that. As you emerged from the station and onto the street, you found at a loss for what to say, other than asking about her flight. Luckily, Ria filled the gap in conversation by incessantly babbling about her travels here and the shady characters she had encountered during her two layovers, as she chatted all the way back to your flat. All the guilt you had felt at having her make her own way here – you had wanted to meet her at the airport but work had prevented you from getting away on time – vanished as you saw how much confidence she possessed. Her bubbliness was almost overwhelming, you could scarcely get a word in edgeways. But secretly you were glad of it; ordinarily you found that you were a little awkward in the presence of people you had just met as you adjusted to their presence and their energy. Ria more than compensated for your social shortcomings and fortunately, your dynamic appeared as though it would translate from online into the real world.

Ria burst into your flat after you had met her at the station, full of enthusiasm, lighting every corner of your abode with the warmth and humour that had always been present online. It was incredible how much energy she had actually, considering the fact she had just endured a transatlantic flight. You marvelled at her energy levels, considering you felt exhausted after merely going to the shops. It was so amazing to have her here with you, though. 

You had laughed before meeting her about how bizarre it was that internet friends always seemed to know the most intimate details about your life, in a way that you never felt comfortable sharing with real life friends… but you had never seen each other’s legs! Yet, now Ria was here, legs and all. 

The two of you were inflating the air mattress for Ria to sleep on, keen to get an early night after so much travelling and how early the two of you would need to be up to make your way to the Dockside Convention Centre for the Con the following morning. You positioned the air mattress underneath the TV, on which you had just spent hours watching your favourite episodes of the show that had brought the two of you together. Of course, you had only intended to watch one episode. But with Mando, there was no such thing as only one episode. Once you started, you just couldn’t stop and you had ended up watching most of the second season. Both you and Ria agreed that the second half of it was incredible, but it was a bit of a slow start. Overall the pair of you preferred the first season, which was a pretty popular consensus amongst fans.

Ria had no qualms about her sleeping arrangements. London was an extortionate city at the best of times, but accommodation when ForceCon was in town – especially close to the convention centre – had meant that your offer to allow Ria to stay in your flat was the only way she had been able to afford to come. It was a debt to you that Ria was grateful for. You didn’t see it as any kind of debt though, you knew she would do the same for you. 

Plus, there was no way you could not offer to help her. If something as ridiculous as actually encountering Mando happened, she would never be able to forgive you if she was not by your side.

Ria had always been your closest friend since you had first met her online and you were so relieved that there had been no hint of awkwardness between the two of you. Ria had made herself right at home, and you had struggled to believe as the chatter and laughter continued that this was genuinely the first time the two of you had ever met in person. 

You watched in awe as Ria moved around your flat, her brown hair which she usually wore in a bob, now tied up ready to sleep. The glasses with thick-black frames were still on her face, a sure sign she would be scrolling on her phone, probably replying to people on her wildly popular blog, before she finally got some sleep. 

Now that she had changed into the tank top and shorts that she would sleep in, you could see more of the extensive tattoo collection she possessed, including a few Mandalorian tattoos. There was an outline of Mando’s helmet that was so well-done, it made you want to rush out to the nearest tattoo shop and get one for yourself. You knew there would be tattoo artists at the Con too, but you also knew you would inevitably chicken out.

With her confident nature and collection of tattoos, you were both in awe of, and utterly intimidated by your best friend. You thought, as you watched her climb onto the air mattress with a giggle, as it tossed her around, that Ria seemed so much older than you even though she was actually eighteen months younger! But that was the bizarre thing about being in your mid twenties, people either seemed to be fully formed adults or still more like teenagers. There was rarely any inbetween. 

You shouldn’t have been surprised that the two of you had gotten along so well. After all, you and Ria shared a similar sense of humour, had a similar taste in music (that wasn’t the Mandalorian soundtrack) and a love of books that had allowed your friendship to blossom into something more than purely an entirely Mando-centric friendship that you felt like you shared with some of your other online friends. It wasn’t as though the friendships were shallow or that you didn’t get on with them or anything, but you had just not spoken more deeply about other parts of your lives in the same way as you had to Ria.

“How’s the air mattress?” You asked with a smirk as you watched Ria toss and turn as the unpredictable surface tossed her around.

“It’s fine! Just a bit lively but honestly now I’m lay down, it’s super comfortable. I’ll be asleep in no time,” Ria smiled.

“Good,” You nodded. “Still can’t believe you’re really here. I thought about this moment for months but now it’s actually here, it’s surreal,”

“I can’t believe I’m here either. In this flat, which I’ve seen so many times on FaceTime. It feels so weird in the best way!” Ria laughed. “We’re going to have the best time this weekend.”

“We are. It’ll be incredible,” You breathed, trying to contain your excitement so that you would actually be able to get some sleep. The thought of being surrounded by so many fellow Star Wars nerds was electrifying.

“And don’t forget that panel tomorrow, when we finally meet Mando!” Ria exclaimed. “I’m sure he’s going to fall in love with me at first sight.”

“In your dreams, Ria,” You rolled your eyes playfully. “Goodnight, see you bright and early in the morning.”

“Goodnight bestie, I need to get my beauty sleep for Mando,” Ria added with a wink.

You shook your head with a grin on your face as you made your way into your bedroom, still utterly bemused by Ria’s utter conviction that the two of you were somehow going to encounter the man who was sworn to complete secrecy. You kind of admired Ria’s utterly unshakable confidence in the matter, even if it was a little delusional. At the end of the day, though, you knew it was all lighthearted. She wasn’t the type of person to try to hack into CCTV cameras or bribe the doctors and nurses at the hospital where a suspiciously-realistic cosplayer had surprised sick children. Ria loved The Mandalorian a great deal, but she also had other hobbies and interests. 

As you tried your best to convince your body that it really needed to sleep before the Con tomorrow, you were struck by how surreal this all felt. Tomorrow, you would travel to what would become, for the next few days, the nerd centre of the world. It was an event that you had dreamt of going to for years, where all of the latest Star Wars projects were announced. Yet, you had never imagined it would be possible to attend, due to how expensive a trip abroad would be. Luckily though, ForceCon travelled around regularly and the stars had aligned to make this possible for you. When it had been announced that the next one would be held in London, you knew you had to do whatever it took to be there.

After almost an entire year of anticipation, you knew that in just a few short hours you would be there, at the event where everyone who was anyone in the Star Wars world and the people who admired them were to be found. 

There was just one exception, though. Mando would never get to see how much the fans appreciated him. Keeping his identity a secret meant that he would never be able to feel the amount of love that fans held for him. Your heart constricted as you thought about it. Even though you had tried in vain to convince yourself that you didn’t really care that much about not knowing who he was, you thought it sad that the man, who was so beloved by people young and old, might never know how truly appreciated he was. You just hoped that one day, on his own terms, he would allow himself to feel some of it. 

It was a thought that lulled you off into sleep, underneath the large poster of Season One that hung above your single bed.

The familiar sound of the opening theme to The Mandalorian jolted you awake. With its rhythmic drum beat and melodic bass recorder, it was really the perfect alarm. What wasn’t so perfect, however, was the ungodly hour at which it had interrupted the peaceful slumber you were enjoying. You fumbled around, bleary-eyed in the early-morning light as your hand felt around the nightstand to turn it off, frustrated at being awoken. Until you remembered precisely why you were awake at five in the morning.

For a second you lay there and closed your eyes, attempting to compose yourself and stop the fluttering in your stomach as the realisation dawned upon you: It was ForceCon day!

Finally, after months and months of anticipation, you would finally get to have one of the best weekends of your life. The big day was finally here and you and Ria did not want to miss a single second of time there, hence the early start. The venue for the Con, the Dockside Convention Centre, was a considerable distance from the outskirts of the city where you lived in your rented flat, which somehow fell within your budget despite how close it was to the tube station. 

The journey to the convention centre was even further than your daily commute to the museum where you worked. The thought of a journey that would take upwards of an hour to start your day, before you had even contended with the crowds at the convention, was slightly distressing to you. But you knew that with Ria by your side, there was no doubt that you would be able to get through it.

Getting up at five meant that you had ample time to get ready for the event. Your outfit was comfortable and practical but still showed your nerdy side. It had been somewhat of a project for you in the run up to the convention, with a denim jacket that you had walked past in a shop window and fell in love with, decorated with various iron-on patches that were a nod to your favourite characters. You coupled it with a comfortable pair of black jeans that weren’t too tight – a must when doing as much walking as you were about to do this weekend – and your trusty favourite pair of shoes. 

You wandered into the main room of your flat, quietly watching as Ria sat on the small couch and expertly applied the finishing touches to her make-up. Suddenly, she snapped the handheld mirror shut and turned to face you.

“Are you ready for the greatest weekend of our lives?!” Ria asked enthusiastically.

“Yes… but no… but yes!” You exclaimed, still unsure how to process the rush of emotions that you were feeling about the day ahead.

“Let me just fill my water bottle up and then I’m ready,” Ria said as she jumped up from the couch and grabbed the titanium bottle that was covered with various Star Wars characters.You chuckled at that. Despite how effortlessly cool your friend seemed to most people, even you, it was reassuring to know that at heart, Ria was still a nerd.

After one last check that you both had your passes for the event, you grabbed the backpacks you had carefully packed the previous evening, between episodes of The Mandalorian, and headed out, to where a weekend of nerd heaven awaited. 

Waking up so early had meant that the two of you could take your time getting ready and then head out to the convention before the main rush hour began on the tube. Much as you loved your sleep and wanted to feel well-rested, being able to avoid the worst of the crowds was a deeply appealing prospect. Plus, you would have a chance to stop for breakfast closer to the convention hall and eat food that wasn’t horrendously overpriced. 

But as you sat there, staring at the sandwich you had ordered and barely taken a few bites of, you seemed to have a mental block when it came to actually finishing the thing. You wanted to, you knew you needed to get some food in your body to give yourself the fuel for contending with the crowds at the convention. Try as you might, though, your mind was not onboard.

“Too nervous?” Ria asked with a knowing smirk as she munched on some fruit.

“I guess,” You shrugged, feeling as though your stomach had tied itself into knots and was attempting to strangle itself. 

“You can always bring it with you. We’ll probably have to get in line and wait around for a while before we go inside. Perhaps you’ll feel like eating then,” Ria suggested.

“Yeah, good idea,” You smiled, suddenly feeling immensely relieved that you had someone else here with you. “I don’t know how I’d do this without you, Ria. Thank you.���

The two of you left the cafe with your takeout coffee cups and finally headed towards the convention centre. As you made your way towards the crowds of people, your stomach dropped as you noticed just how busy things were going to be. For the first few hundred feet, things weren’t too bad as you were sent down what appeared to be a wide, service road, built into the side of the convention centre with the masses of people who were all heading in the same direction as you.

You stuck to the side of the walkway, where you could see the roads and city below, and feel the fresh air on your face over the barrier that bordered one side of the walkway. As long as you could still see daylight and the crowds were moving, you were fine. Slightly stressed, but you could cope. 

However, the sight that greeted you at the end of the walkway was like something from your worst nightmares. It was your first glimpse inside the packed convention hall, where you had been so certain that you would have the greatest weekend of your life. But if it involved walking into something as stressful as the sight before you, you were not so sure that it would be the incredible experience you had built it up to be in your head.

As far as you could see, in the biggest room you had ever stepped foot in, there was an endless sea of people. The space was enormous and industrial, with a black floor and white sliding doors at the far left end that opened sporadically to let attendees into the main hall. You felt sick as you looked at it, you couldn’t survive more than a few minutes in that space, especially without knowing how long you would be there for. But no one you encountered appeared to have any idea as to how long you would be in this space. You were just glad that you had arrived a little before the doors to the con opened.

You had expected that, given that ForceCon was officially endorsed by Lucasfilm, it would at least be professionally organised. Instead, though, it seemed as though there were a small number of stressed out volunteers responsible for herding the attendees into a series of pens, with no security or leadership in sight. The poor workers looked incredibly stressed and overwhelmed by the influx of people.

“Ria, I don’t know if I can do this.” You mumbled when you noticed the crowd of people that you were being swept towards as the volunteers motioned for you to fill one of the pens. It seemed as though it would never end, as far as your eyes could see there were people. You felt panic rising in your chest, how were you ever going to get out of here?

“Just breathe, bestie. Breathe.” Ria said, placing her hand upon your back soothingly. “This won’t last forever, it’ll all be worth it. Think about the Mando cosplays! Look, there’s one over there!”

But it was no use. Not even the greatest Mandalorian cosplay in the galaxy would be able to comfort you now. Panic was rising in your chest, you felt overwhelmed by being stuck between two metal barriers in a pen full of people.

You tried your best to focus on her words as you took a seat on the cold, hard floor of the hall. The buzzing in your head was back, it grew louder and louder. You shut your eyes and stared at the floor, hands covering your ears as you willed time to go faster.

“Won’t be long now. I promise,” Ria said reassuringly.

How was she always so calm and composed when you felt as though the world was ending over a few people in a room together? It seemed almost unfair. But you knew that Ria would not want you to feel bad, she just wanted to make sure that you were going to be alright.

Mercifully, before too long, the con opened and you eventually began to move out of the enormous room. At that moment, you felt excitement bubbling up in the pit of your stomach as it dawned on you that you were about to enter Star Wars heaven. You glanced for the first time at the various incredible cosplays that surrounded you, in awe of the hours each person had dedicated to their craft.

Any relief you felt was short-lived, though. The main hallway was not much better. You couldn’t move, or stop to think. The crowd continued plodding down the hall towards a destination unknown. You were sure it was the busiest place you had ever been in your entire life. 

“Just keep swimming, swimming,” You chanted to yourself under your breath as a way to soothe yourself. 

You took deep breaths and concentrated on the rhythmic thudding of your feet as you stared up the ceiling and continued on your way. You instantly felt lighter, the beginnings of a smile traced across your features when you looked up and saw a giant poster of Mando hanging from the ceiling. If you could just make it to him, you would be most of the way down the corridor and then you would almost be at your destination: the main hall.

Focusing on the Mando poster helped and before you knew it, you were there, surrounded by a dizzying variety of stalls selling more Star Wars merch than you had ever seen gathered together in one place in your entire life. You thought you had a pretty impressive collection yourself – having a proper, adult salary had made it easier to give into your whims and purchase a variety of collectibles – but this was really something else. 

You were like a kid in a candy shop, mouth open as you wandered from stall to stall, taking in the wares of the various vendors. You felt like Mando the first time he visited Tatooine. He had wandered around just like you were, amazed by the variety of produce on display. Unlike Mando, though, you were unable to get even remotely close to the stalls. There was a throng of people gathered at each one. You were not the least bit assertive in crowds, you had no desire to engage in a battle with your elbows through a gaggle of fellow nerds for some slightly-overpriced collectibles.

“Shall we find somewhere to sit and catch our breath before the panel?” Ria asked, sensing your discomfort. For someone that you had only met face-to-face the previous evening, she was more perceptive than some people who had known you for years.

You headed out of the main hall, desperate to find any relief from the overwhelming noises and sounds that the thousands of people crammed inside the Dockside Convention Centre were currently creating. The first place that you noticed was a staircase. You ducked under the metal bar that surrounded the bottom of it and flopped down unceremoniously on the floor, finally feeling your nerves begin to settle as there was a physical barrier between you and the rest of humanity for the time being. Things suddenly felt a lot quieter and more manageable as the buzzing in your head began to subside. Ria sat opposite you, her blue eyes looking into yours concernedly.

“Ria, I’m sorry I’m such a nervous wreck. It’s just… it’s so much busier than I was expecting.” You admitted.

“Girl, shut up. This place is crazy. Like, the craziest place I have ever been in my entire life. I suffer with this shit too.” Ria admitted. “I think I’m just running on, like, the adrenaline of thinking about Mando being at that panel.” 

“Ria, he’s not going to be at the panel!” You laughed. “Please stop being delusional!” 

“Sure, there he is right now!” Ria giggled breathlessly as she pointed towards the main hallway, which had emptied somewhat since you had fought your way through it just a few minutes ago.

You had fully intended to make another jibe about Ria being delusional, but when you turned your head, the sight caused all coherent thoughts to leave your brain. You were transfixed at the sight before you. It was as though you had suddenly been transported a long time ago to a galaxy far, far away. The most incredible cosplay you had ever laid eyes upon was heading straight towards you. The armour itself was immaculate, the details on it really looked as if they were forged out of Beskar by a Mandalorian armourer. Of course you knew that screen realistic cosplays existed, you had obviously seen the viral footage of a Mando cosplayer visiting a children’s hospital a few months ago. But it was more than the armour that made your entire world pause on its axis. It was the way this cosplayer carried himself: the self-assured, confident swagger that you would recognise anywhere. The way his hands were held at his side, somewhere between relaxed and tensed, ready to put his finger on the trigger at a moment’s notice. For one brief, fleeting second: you could have sworn that the real Mando was actually walking towards you.

“Wow… that’s…” You stuttered, failing to find words that could capture your feelings towards the sight before you. 

“Um, excuse me! I’m the one who gets called delusional and obsessed with Mando, but look at you!” Ria said with a knowing smirk, clearly where words had failed… your face had betrayed you. “You’re getting flustered over a cosplay!”

You couldn’t even deny it. You were feeling more than a little flustered. It was the first time you had ever seen a Mandalorian in real life. Nothing could have prepared you for it, the presence that the man had, even from this distance. Watching the way he carried himself as he had swaggered down the main hallway had been intoxicating to behold. It was also the way with his T-visor, that you never knew exactly where his eyes were trained. They could be right on you or they could be looking right past you, you would never know. As far as you were concerned, he had picked you out from the crowd, his eyes focusing on you and only you as he walked down the hall. It was an electrifying thought, you felt little bolts of electricity all over your skin. You had half a mind to run up to him and beg him to bring you in warm or cold, he could decide, you really weren’t fussy. 

“Hellooooooo, bestie!” Ria said sarcastically, waving her hand in front of your eye line, which was still trailed off into the distance where the cosplayer had disappeared into the crowd. “Anyone home?” 

“Sorry.” You said, shyly. Now that the Mando cosplay had walked past, you had sadly realised that he was not making a bee-line for you to sweep you off your feet, you felt a little embarrassed. “I just couldn’t stop staring. That was an amazing cosplay.” 

“It was. Or maybe… it was really him!” Ria said, throwing her arms like a conspiracy theorist gif that your groupchat had sent one too many times. 

You both collapsed into full belly laughter at that. Ria was so devoted to the bit at this point that you just went along with it. You silently called a truce: you would stop calling her delusional, it was a fun joke that had distracted your anxious brain from the throngs of people that surrounded you, just beyond the metal railing of your refuge under the stairs. Despite the distraction, they had not magically disappeared.

“The Mando panel isn’t for a couple hours yet. Is there anything you want to do beforehand?” Ria asked, once the two of you had finally stopped laughing. 

“Uh. I don’t know. We could go and have a look around, find where the stages are maybe and then have lunch?” You suggested, not feeling like working your way through the hordes of people by the stalls again. 

So Ria and you did exactly that, getting your bearings and orienting yourself in the massive convention hall. There seemed to be so much to see and do, you were so grateful in that moment that you had splurged on four day passes. It would probably take you four days to walk around the entire thing! Your exploration of the centre meant that by the time the panel came around, you were grateful that you would be able to sit down, you were more than ready to rest your tired, achy legs. 

As you made your way into the room where the panel would be held, you went out of your way to thank the staff on the door. You knew most of the people who worked here were volunteers and a lot of the panel goers were looking straight through them. Manners cost nothing though, a simple “thanks” and a smile and nod were enough to make someone feel valued when they perhaps felt as though they were doing a thankless task. You couldn’t understand why more people wouldn’t take just two seconds to say thank you.

Your heart was thundering as you took a seat in the hall. For a strange moment, you felt as though you were back in a lecture at University. Everyone sizing each other up, wondering where to sit – should they leave a gap or get close to others, maybe strike up a conversation? Personally, you wanted to place as much distance between yourself and others as humanly possible and the thought of speaking to strangers made you freeze up in terror. But Ria, ever the extrovert, was quite happy to strike up a conversation with the guys next to you. 

They were fans of Mando, but you could tell pretty quickly that they were casuals. They did not have the deeper love for the show that you and Ria held. After a few minutes of sitting around, the people who were hosting the panel emerged, walking down the gap between the neatly-arranged chairs to take a seat on the long table that sat on a raised platform so everyone in the room was able to get a good view of them. The room was long but narrow and you and Ria were sitting around 10 rows back. As you glanced behind you, you realised that it had filled up rather quickly. You were glad that you had been here well ahead of the scheduled start time to ensure you got a good seat.

The guys running the panel began messing around with their laptops so they could get the powerpoint they had created on the screen. They were certainly not what you were expecting for this panel. You had expected it to be on a bigger stage, with more fanfare. But it was actually just a small panel hidden away at the back of the convention centre, up a flight of stairs that people might have missed. You had wondered, momentarily, whether you should get up and leave… Yet something was telling you to remain seated and stay. Just because it hadn’t been what you were expecting, didn’t necessarily mean it was going to be a bad thing. The audience seemed to be friendly too, a combination of people who you hoped would ask some thought-provoking questions and wouldn’t turn this all into baseless speculation over who the actor behind Mando really was.

When it got started, though, it soon transpired that this was not going to be the discussion you thought it was. The guys running the panel were sharing their views about Mando as though it was one of the online Star Wars podcasts that you avoided like the plague. There was little room for audience participation. The chair of the panel, a man with a backwards baseball cap on, which was slightly cringeworthy considering he must have been pushing fifty, was called Jeff. 

Jeff was very American, thrashing his limbs around exaggeratedly, imitating Mando’s fight style as his voice got quicker and higher pitched in enthusiasm for the tough warrior. Jeff and his colleagues were definitely the kind of people who watched The Mandalorian just to see him fight bad guys and kill them in cool, new ways. Obviously you enjoyed that too, but there was really so much more to the show and the character than just fighting. You wished that they could see that too, especially considering they were running a damn panel about it!

You were so utterly tuned out by their incessant ramblings that you turned your head towards the back of the room to indulge in a bit of people watching. Principally, to see if the two guys on your row that Ria had chatted to before the panel began were as bored as you were. It seemed that even they were utterly uninterested in Jeff and his buddies. You found that your relative boredom was mirrored on the expressions of numerous others in the room who were just as unenthused by Jeff and co’s surface-level analysis of the show you all loved. You felt at that moment that if you and Ria had somehow been able to lead a panel it would have been much more exciting.

You would have actually introduced some nuance and character analysis as the title of the panel had suggested would happen. Ria’s wild theory that this would be the place that Mando would reveal himself to the world had soon gone out of the window, too. Out of all the places in the world that he could choose (or not) to finally reveal his identity, a room tucked away in the far corner of the Dockside Convention Centre did not seem the most likely.

But your stomach dropped in the familiar way that it had when you were crouched underneath the staircase, catching your breath after the bedlam of entering the Con. 

It was him. 

The same cosplayer was back. 

He was sitting on the last seat in the row, two rows behind and opposite you, perfectly straight with his shoulders back, hands resting on his knees. It was almost uncanny, the way he held himself… it was so much like the way you had witnessed Mando sit so many times on the show. When he visited cantinas or sat in his ship, Mando held himself in an uncannily similar position.

You shook your head, mentally telling yourself to snap out of it – you were being ridiculous! If Ria was thinking these thoughts, you would tell her to stop being crazy. You were usually the grounded, rational one. For even you to be getting caught up in such delusional thinking, well that was truly concerning. Perhaps it was thanks to the early start and crowds. Either way, it seemed as though you were really losing it. 

You blamed it on Mando, all logical thought went straight out of your brain when it came to him. Of course the best Mando cosplayers would be here at this con. It wasn’t really him, but it sure was uncanny how realistic both the cosplay and way he sat was. Extremely uncanny. You didn’t have time to dwell on it, though… because Jeff was asking a question to the audience. One that you were keen to answer honestly and defend the character that you loved so much, with as much ferocity as if he was really listening to your every word.

“So, finally, we wanted to leave a few minutes for discussion about what the character of Mando means to all of you, here. You must be pretty big fans of the show to have found us all the way back up here!” Jeff joked, to a few laughs from the room.

You had gotten the sense since you had walked into this panel that Jeff and his buddies viewed everyone here with a baseline level of contempt. It was something that you couldn’t quite place your finger on, but you felt as though if a person did not entirely agree with his point of view, then he was not impressed by them.It was a shame, really, you loved hearing the opinions of others. Even if you didn’t agree with them, you always found out something new about yourself. 

Jeff had only just finished speaking, and already there was a steady stream of people flocking to queue at the microphone positioned in the aisle. There was nothing on earth that could motivate you to go up there, so you sat, with your arms folded, and leaned back into your chair. This would all be over in a few minutes. Then there would be a hopefully much more interesting panel about historical parallels with Star Wars, something you were truly interested in, that you wanted to check out with Ria. 

The first few audience comments were pretty dull. You disagreed with all of them almost entirely as they again reduced the concept of understanding a character to things such as seeing a face and knowing a name. Jeff just responded hollowly, thanking the speakers for their thoughts. But it did not provoke any deeper discussions like you had been hoping for. 

That was certainly a disappointment, but it was not a reason for you to lose your temper. You just felt slightly numb to the whole experience, wishing it was over as soon as possible and already plotting your route to the next panel. It was dull, but inoffensive.

That was, until the next two speakers boiled your blood with their assumptions and cruel jibes.

“When I first started watching The Mandalorian I loved it. I really thought Star Wars was back!” A man in a Darth Vader hoodie, who was probably in his late thirties, said proudly as he echoed the empty talking points that you had heard over and over since The Mandalorian premiered. You scoffed and rolled your eyes. This guy was clearly someone who thought that Star Wars was all bad now. He probably bought into all the theories that his precious sci-fi franchise had been ruined by women. He continued his tirade: “But now, it’s just the same thing every week. A hollow, emotionless tin can man strutting around from planet to planet, taking guys out. Like, it was cool the first few times but it’s just getting boring now. We need to see his face!” 

Your blood was slowly boiling as you heard all of these hollow criticisms of the show you loved so much. It truly upset you that a place you had believed would be full of fellow fans who would be eager to enthuse about the show alongside you and Ria had been nothing of the sort. Instead of the welcoming, open-minded environment you had expected, things had been wildly different, as the next speaker was about to prove once again. 

The next man who spoke had long brown hair. He was dressed in a Mando t-shirt and jeans. 

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love the show and all. But I just feel like we don’t know that much about Mando. It’s as if we, as an audience, are being held back from connecting with him fully because of some diva’s selfish demands to keep his identity hidden!” The man exclaimed. Several people laughed and applauded. He was probably around your age but it stunned you how drastically different your opinions on the show could be. Perhaps he spent his time online in different circles than you. In fact, you were almost certain that you had seen these conspiracy theories about Mando’s actor pushed by people who swore it as the gospel truth, even though there was absolutely no proof of it. But he was not done yet, levelling a final cruel jab at the actor who played Mando: “Seriously, the guy who plays him must be such an asshole. Imagine having to work with that guy!” 

Your head was burning… that was too much. Once people got personal about the actor too, that did it for you. It was one thing to criticise the show, but to level insults towards the person behind the character, who clearly did not want his business in the public eye, was enough to compel you to speak up. 

Before you really knew what you were doing, you had somehow risen from your seat, stumbled over a few bags and outstretched legs and now stood in front of the microphone. Jeff looked at you expectantly, the eyes of everyone in the room were on you. Suddenly the gravity of what you were about to do had dawned on you, you felt your pulse thundering in your ears. But then you remembered what the previous guy had said about Mando, and you opened your mouth to launch into a passionate defence of your favourite fictional character of all time.

“I think tying Mando’s identity to his name and face is a pretty narrow way of viewing how we can understand who someone truly is inside and what exactly motivates them. I mean, I think I’ve connected to his character pretty well without ever seeing his face or knowing his real name. That’s because Mando has proved time and time again what kind of man he is. The way he has risked his life multiple times to rid the galaxy of threats and evil shows that he is committed to securing a brighter future, even if he is not around to see it. This man is willing to sacrifice himself for the greater good. Sure, we don’t know his name or face or a lot about his origins, but I think to us, that should prove that he has nothing but noble intentions. That human side of the man beneath all of the armour allows us to connect to him on a far deeper level than just seeing a face and learning a name ever could.”

Jeff began to thank you for your thoughts, using the same hollow phrases that he had used for every previous speaker, but you were not done yet. For the reason you had stood up to speak was not only motivated by the way people had spoken about Mando, the character. It was not just accusations against the fictional man that you were here to refute, but also the way that they had tried to turn on the man beneath the Beskar.

“Also, I know no one outside this room will probably ever hear what had been said at this panel, but I think attacking the character of the man who portrays Mando, simply because he wants privacy, is unfair. I think we should always talk about people, online and publicly, as though they can read or hear what we say. We don’t know why he won’t say who he is, but I trust that he has his reasons. Even then, he doesn’t need to have a good reason,” You argued passionately, noticing how the trembling in your voice had ceased the more you spoke. “Everyone is entitled to their privacy for the simple fact of wanting to be private. I just think that we see Mando go from planet to planet, connecting with locals and communicating with them respectfully. He leaves every place better than he found it… I wish more people would take those lessons from the show, too, rather than how skilled Mando is at fighting and killing,” You made a pointed effort to look straight at Jeff as you made that last quip about his fighting skills, but he just stayed slumped in his seat, hand resting under his chin, looking utterly bored. Your words had done nothing to get through to him.

You walked back to your seat, head down, trembling. Speaking that much in public had been a lot more than you would ever have expected yourself to be able to handle. Ria was staring at you dumbfounded, her mouth open in shock.

“Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?” Ria asked, astonished.

“I… uh….” You stuttered.

“Look, I knew you loved Mando, but that was insane!” Ria whispered excitedly, while beaming at you. “You defended him as if he was a real person, like he was actually here in the room! That was awesome, beyond badass! He’d be so proud of you, bestie.”

“Thank you.” You whispered, face suddenly feeling hot. You were sure you were visibly shaking after your public outburst. But it had been worth it, you had meant every word.

A few more people offered their thoughts but your head was still buzzing with the emotional exertion of public speaking, so you did not pay them much mind, even if they still repeated the same old tired arguments about Mando that you had just tried to argue against. 

Finally, Jeff drew things to a close and then it was time for everyone to leave. He had invited people to come and speak to him at the front after the panel if they wished to, but you were definitely not going to be taking him up on that offer. You had believed that anyone given such an incredible opportunity to speak about something they loved at an event as prestigious as ForceCon would be nothing less than delighted. But clearly, you were mistaken. Jeff had seemed utterly bored throughout the panel, not least when people he did not agree with had spoken. You were not a fan of him and his backwards baseball cap in the slightest. 

As the panel ended and people began to filter out, you glanced around to where the incredible cosplayer had been sitting. But it seemed that while you had been distracted by your emotional state after speaking so publicly, he had already made his way out. You were disappointed, you wanted to compliment him on his cosplay and maybe even get a picture with him.

Just being in his presence twice had been intoxicating, you had been unable to look away from him. When you saw him, it really felt like you were actually in the world of The Mandalorian. You had a strong desire to be near him again, but you were too late. The man was apparently long gone. But you didn’t want to dwell on that and ruin the rest of your experience. You still had three more days here. So it was time to get over your disappointment, even though you were still kicking yourself for not pointing him out to Ria.

As you made your way down to the main hall of the convention centre, you couldn’t help but feel your chest swell with pride when you remembered how you had spoken in such a surprisingly eloquent manner at the panel. It had really been so many steps out of your comfort zone, but you had proved to yourself that you could do it. This entire weekend, really, was out of your comfort zone. But so far, you were matching every hurdle before you. 

Perhaps speaking up at the panel would be the start of a new, more confident you. A you that was unafraid to stand up for what she believed in.

But then, the idea of a simple panel at a sci-fi convention being some sort of life changing experience was surely an absurd notion.

Wasn’t it?

Next Chapter

Taglist: @toxic-seduction

[pollymorgan]

Oh my God, how embarrassing... I did it and translated my German fanfiction into English... into bad English! Don't be too harsh on me, but rather make suggestions for improvement: So now a little phone sex with Coach Negan. 🙈😌

Warnings: arrogant Negan, frustrated woman, explicit phone sex

Today is one of those days again, where nothing seems to work as it should. Just like so often lately. Why couldn't I transfer those damn photos to the laptop? I've never been very tech-savvy, but the modern world practically forced me to. I'm actually a cookbook author and used to be quite successful with it. Some of my books were bestsellers and I even had my own cooking segment on a nationally broadcasted morning show. But then I was suddenly replaced by a younger, "cooler" colleague and ever since then, I've been struggling to keep afloat with social media, more or less. If only the technology would cooperate..

Even in my personal life, I have been replaced. Four months ago, my husband left us. By us, I mean my three children and me. After 19 years of marriage. But love goes where it goes, right? Nothing can be done against that. At least, those were his words when he got into his Porsche with a blonde woman who could be his daughter and disappeared.

Since then, he has managed to do something with his children exactly twice. But in exchange, he has already disappointed them seven times by canceling the meetings at short notice. Yes, I'm keeping count. At least for now.

My oldest daughter Penny is 15 years old and fully immersed in puberty, and it seems that this situation is hardest on her. She and her father were always a unit, his little princess. But there's no trace of that at the moment. Most of the time, he doesn't even bother to answer his damn phone when she tries to reach him.

I see her suffering. She's lost interest in school, and her circle of friends is dwindling visibly. I would love to help her, but how? At the moment, I just can't seem to reach her. Our communication mostly consists of doors slamming.

But back to my current problem. These damn pictures! The article is supposed to go online today. I cooked an Indian dish and had to drive halfway across town to get these damn spices. Thursdays always bring an international post, and now, of all times, nothing is working again. My laptop doesn't recognize the memory card, and the camera won't connect either. I keep plugging and unplugging the cable, hoping the error will magically resolve. Which of course it doesn't. Suddenly, I glance at the small display in the lower right-hand corner. Damn it! So late. I won't be picking up the kids on time again, the second time this cursed week. Annoyed, I close the screen. Grabbing my purse, I walk quickly to the garage. Where's the damn car key? Nervously, I rummage through my chaotic bag, spilling half of its contents on the floor. Finally finding it, I get into the car and speed out of the driveway.

The first stop is the kindergarten to pick up my youngest. She's a real bundle of nerves, but so sweet that you can forgive her anything. Of course, she throws a tantrum right at pickup. It's a real struggle to get her into the car. Like a madwoman, I drive on to the elementary school to pick up my 9-year-old son. He is the calm one in our family and thankfully waits with his best friend relaxed in front of the school. At least one who's not mad at me. Lucky me. And off we go, heading to my daughter's high school. From a distance, I can see her and immediately know that - once again - something is wrong. She stands all alone and pretty annoyed on the street, looking out for me. When I park the car right in front of her feet, she angrily drops onto the passenger seat.

"Penny, I can explain, you know what a loser I am when it comes to technology..." I try to justify myself.

My eldest rolls her eyes in annoyance. "Mum, this time, for once, it's not your fault..." I see tears forming in the corners of her eyes, and automatically, I feel a lump in my throat.

"Mister Smith... he..."

She doesn't need to continue speaking; just hearing that name fills me with such anger again. Right from the start, there have been issues with her physical education teacher, Negan Smith.

I've only seen him twice so far, at parent-teacher conferences, but Penny's stories are enough for me to know that he's an absolute failure as a teacher. He has his favorites whom he praises to the skies, while the less athletic students suffer under his authoritarian ways. My daughter already feels uncomfortable in her own skin, and that jerk doesn't even realize the impact his remarks have on the young girls.

A few years ago, his wife passed away from cancer. A terrible tragedy, but apparently that did not make him more empathetic; quite the opposite.

I'm currently looking in the rearview mirror to avoid hitting anyone in the chaos outside the school. That's all I need on this crappy day. Then I catch sight of none other than Penny's physical education teacher.

"Isn't that him?" I ask excitedly.

My daughter buries her face even further into the backpack in her lap. "Yes, Mom, it's okay, please just drive..."

The anger that had been building up recently had just found a good release.

With the words "Nothing is good...", I yank open my driver's door and head purposefully towards my daughter's physical education teacher, who is just stowing his bag in his car.

"Who do you think you are?" I stand behind him with arms crossed, eagerly awaiting his reaction.

Confused, he turns around to face me and suddenly a big grin spreads across his face. "Negan Smith, nice to meet you, and who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?"

What a cocky jerk!

"The mother of a rather offended young girl, because of you..."

Can't he just drop his arrogant smile for once? Quite unimpressed, he closes the door of his car.

"Penny has so much potential and she's wasting it on the damn bench..."

Such an idiot, he clearly knows who I am.

"Maybe you should listen to the young students as well, instead of just spouting off random remarks at them?"

Amused, he shakes his head. "I did... her excuse for skipping today's P.E. class was menstrual cramps..."

"And in your opinion that's not a valid reason or what? How dare you even pass judgment on that? Your students' bodies are going through changes and such discomforts should be taken seriously..." I respond a bit too loudly, causing some students to turn towards us.

Resigned, he raises his hands. "Of course, but not every damn other week. Maybe you should give your daughter some biology lessons again and explain to her that her P.E. teacher isn't completely from another planet."

Oh God, what does this man think he is..

"And you should work on your teaching skills... Otherwise, maybe I should consider contacting the school board!"

„Oh wow, you're actually a bigger drama queen than your dear daughter!".

Did he really just say that? Did he just seriously insult me? My daughter's teacher. I look at him in disbelief, but he just grins.

"And now she's quiet... I really have to go now, but I'm pretty sure we'll meet again soon." With these words, he jumps into his car and drives off.

Completely perplexed, I walk back to my car and am greeted by my daughter with the words "That was soooo embarrassing.."

7 hours later

Finally peace! Why does it always have to be such a struggle to get the kids to bed? Isn't it unfair that you are a thousand times more tired than the dear little ones? What a crappy day! I'm glad to be freshly showered in my bed and finally have some time off. Just me and my phone, no one else. No more whining, arguing, and crying. As much as I sometimes curse technology, I also love being able to connect with people over the internet. It's fun to respond to comments, the direct exchange with like-minded people is the only positive thing about social media. As I scroll through Instagram, I suddenly see comments coming in at a rapid pace. Confused, I open them. From "Do you always look so good when you cook?" to "Can you cook that for me sometime?" to heart emojis, and they all come from the same account. As I read the name, a shock runs through me. Can this be for real? "Coach Negan" is he not only a tactless asshole, but also a real psychopath? Excited, I click on his account, but apart from a profile picture where he is clearly recognizable, there is no further information.

I quickly open the messaging function and type "What is this???" into my phone. It only takes a few seconds and I receive a response.

"I am a fan 😉"

For a while, I stare at the screen, unable to believe what is happening here.

Suddenly, he sends me a picture. I open it and see a photo of me from my highlights, showing me from my post "Valentine's Day." I had cooked a three-course meal and written a pretty cheesy text back then. It's one of my most liked posts.

"Red lipstick suits you. Matches your fiery nature.." he writes.

What does he want to achieve? Did the confrontation before school hurt him so much that he is trying to provoke me? But to be honest, it seems like he's the one giving me a warning. Well, but if there's one thing I've learned, it's that the best defense is a good offense.

"Oh, do you think so? Most men say I look better without wearing anything...I mean, without lipstick, of course.. 😉".

"Are you already in bed?" he asks next. What a bizarre situation? Why does my daughter's teacher want to know where I am? The same teacher who called me a ‚drama queen‘ just a few hours ago.

I keep trying to type a suitable response on my phone and then delete it again. Finally, I write briefly, "Yes, and you?"

"Yes, and I'm studying your profile. Do you realize how crazy you can drive a man with these pictures? Why am I even asking, of course you do. 😉"

The feeling of small electric shocks runs through my body. The whole thing feels strangely forbidden. Maybe what I'm doing here is damn wrong, but right now, the consequences seem pretty irrelevant to me.

"How mean, you can look at my pictures, but you don't have any online yourself."

"That's true, but how about you hear my voice instead?" Attached to this message was his phone number. Okay, this is all moving pretty quickly, in a pretty strange direction. I'm so excited that I can feel my heart pounding wildly in my chest. But what do I have to lose? I haven't felt like this in the last 20 years. Okay, it's a damn bizarre situation, but I'm an adult and single. So I can finally talk to whoever I want. Even with the biggest jerk I've come across lately.

Feeling totally tense, I dial the number and as it rings, it gets even worse. I take a few deep breaths, and suddenly the deep voice on the other end answers with a "What took you so long to decide?" and I can practically feel his grin.

"Well, I had to think for a moment about what would be so sensible about calling my daughter's narcissistic gym teacher in the middle of the night," I say calmly.

"And what would be sensible about that?" he asks with interest.

"I haven't really found a solid reason yet, but maybe you can tell me?"

He thinks for a moment, and I imagine him lying in his bed. A slight tingling sensation spreads in my stomach, which is intensified by his response.

"Well, I can make sure you feel a little better... forget all the everyday crap that's weighing on your pretty shoulders right now."

I briefly close my eyes to focus more on his voice, which really manages to relax me a bit with just that simple sentence.

"And how do you plan to do that?" I ask softly.

"When was the last time you were really well fucked?" As soon as he says it, my lower abdomen tightens, and I automatically press my legs together.

After I take a moment to collect myself, I honestly respond, "That was much too long ago..."

"Oh, poor girl," Negan provocatively replies, but instead of getting upset about it, it triggers completely different feelings in me. "Tell me about what you imagine when you stroke your lonely pussy at night."

I have to swallow briefly to get rid of the extremely dry feeling in my throat.

"I can tell you what I think about when I do it in a moment..." I say softly but firmly.

And his tone changes too. His breathing becomes heavier. "Then tell me, come on," he commands.

"I imagine it's your fingers running over my body and finally sliding my panties to the side and penetrating deep into me..." My cheeks feel like they're glowing. I've never talked like this with anyone before, and now I just did it with a man who is actually a stranger to me.

"Come on, sweetheart... touch yourself for me and tell me if you're wet," he interrupts.

Without thinking, I click on the speaker icon on my display and place the phone next to me on the pillow, then I slide my right hand under my nightgown into my panties and I'm surprised at how aroused I already am, how swollen my clit is, and how sensitive my whole intimate area has become. I sigh softly.

"Fuck, the sweet little sounds you're making... they make my damn cock twitch in my hand with joy..."

Just the thought that he's so aroused by me on the other end sends waves of pleasure through my body.

"I'm already so wet because of you, Negan..." I admit breathlessly.

"You dirty, pretty lady, if I were with you right now, I would slowly penetrate deep into you... you need that now, don't you?"

"Yes!" I can only whisper.

"Okay, now do everything exactly as I tell you, understood?" he demands.

"Yes, please tell me what to do.." I focus solely on his voice, completely tuning out everything else.

"Take off your panties. Use your index and middle fingers to gently stroke over your mons pubis and then slowly over your outer labia, but not more, just right there.."

Immediately, I follow his instructions. The air feels cool on my bare lower abdomen. I feel strangely exposed, even though I am alone in my bedroom, but it's not uncomfortable, quite the opposite. I begin to caress myself gently.

"How does that feel?" his voice breaks the silence again.

"Good, but I want more.." I plead.

"I already knew that.. Bend your legs and spread them wide.. as far as you can.." He gives me a brief moment to comply with his instructions. "Now push your pelvis even further forward.. Imagine I'm between your legs and you want to present me with your beautiful pussy, you would like that, wouldn't you?"

"Yes.." I say and nod vigorously, even though no one can see me.

"Such a good girl.. and now run your index finger through your slit, spread your juices.."

I can't and don't want to hold back my moans now. There is silence for a while at the other end, then I speak heavily.

"Are you also pleasuring your cock for me?" I ask as I continue to touch myself.

"Oh, sweetheart, so your thoughts are currently only about that.." he says snappily. "Yes, I am, and if you keep moaning so sweetly into the phone, it won't be long, so it's time for you to start massaging your clit, but don't be too timid, circle it with two fingers and use some pressure, even if you're very sensitive now, you can take it.."

Oh God, that was exactly what I needed right now. My body felt like in ecstasy and I could feel the orgasm slowly building up.

"Don't come yet," he commanded, and on cue, I immediately removed my fingers from my most sensitive spot.

"Now, bring your knees close to your body!“

"Yes," I replied, completely exhausted. "You're doing it perfectly, how much I would love to see you in this position right now, just the damn thought!" I could clearly hear him softly moaning. This sound made my body twitch with excitement.

"Penetrate yourself with two fingers... nice and slow. Focus entirely on the feeling of stretching your pussy wide... Tell me when you're all the way in!"

"Now," I whispered, already quite spent.

"Then add your ring finger, once you've done that, you can come intensely as a reward, I promise."

Slowly, I press the third finger into me, which initially causes a bittersweet pull, but I'm so wet that it's not a problem.

Without me telling him, Negan knows that I fulfilled his request.

"So perfect, sweetheart! And now, pleasure your clit! Bring yourself to climax and don't hold back any sound, I want to hear every sweet noise from you."

With the first gentle touch, my body twitches like crazy.

"Negan, please come with me," I stammer into the phone.

"Yes, I promise, beautiful," he replies breathlessly.

And these words are enough for me to come as intensely as I haven't in the past years. My thighs tremble uncontrollably and my heart almost jumps out of my chest. My lower abdomen contracts in waves and I can barely breathe. It feels like I am weightless for a few seconds.

"Do you feel good?" he asks after a short pause.

"Perfect.." I reply and can't gather my thoughts yet.

"Okay, then I expect you tomorrow at 3:30 p.m. for a parent-teacher meeting at the school, and, by the way, without panties.. Good night!" After these words, I only hear a beep on the line.

[snapscube]

100% sincere question - when you were deciding to start becoming an active content creator online, how did you weigh up the negative consequences of having an online presence (annoying anons, potential for backlash, being nitpicked) against the potential positives? Especially as an LGBT woman, who get much more critical scrutiny than other creators, it seems so intimidating to even potentially open yourself up to that. I'm so scared of putting any of my work out there and taking myself seriously as an creator/artist because of it

Honestly, to me it has just always been second nature to want to put myself out there. I don’t know where it comes from. But I’ve known for my whole life that, regardless of the cost, if I am not out here creating and sharing my passions with people then I am not fully living. And, truth be told even further, I was creating stuff and putting things out there longggg before I understood either myself or the negative potential fully. I was just doing shit, “i might have to deal with harassment” never popped into my mind because when I started I was LITERALLY a child. Which has its pros and cons. Pros being that I’ve been able to achieve a lot in a relatively short period of time, but cons of course being that when the sticking points did start coming around, I was not really prepared to deal with them. Still am not in a few ways, though I’m a lot better about shit than I was even a couple years ago I’d say. Either way, the joy of creating and sharing itself is worth a lot of the downsides for me. Though there’s a lot I would do differently if given the chance, and sometimes I do get a little wistful about the idea of living a much more private life when things are tough, I honestly think this all suits me pretty well.

[beevean]

Rewatching NFCV with @woodchipp and @the-crow-binary has been miserable so far.

Not because of them, of course: we all need each other to bear the Peak. but holy shit I forgot how mindnumbingly boring the show is. it's way worse at a second watch because now I know how much it falls apart! We're only at S2E3 as of this post!

S1 is the best season, and even that is largely forgettable, especially S1E3 which wastes 22 minutes of my life to say "here's the bishop. he's proof that CHURCH BAD". But S1E1 may be the best or second best episode of the whole show thanks to Dracula and his performance... and isn't that sad, that the show peaks at the very beginning? The rest of the show is just... Trevor doing his stuff (while the framing mostly makes fun of him), talking, some fighting, and CHURCH BAD. As positives, I still like Trevor's mini-arc in this season, and the vague effort to be faithful to CV3 (Sypha being petrified by a cyclops, falling down a chasm to find Alucard).

S2 is terrible. Yes we're still less than halfway through. I already hate everything.

I hate Alucard becoming a legend to the point that the Wallachians name his Alucard (as in, Dracula's opposite) after only a year - why couldn't he name himself Alucard? Why complicate matters so much? Isaac calling him Alucard, and Dracula recognizing the name, makes absolutely no sense: how do they know about it? Dracula lost contact with his son one year ago and I doubt Wallachian human legends have reached him. And Isaac was in the Sahara until sometime after Lisa died!

I hate Alucard himself. He's a cunt. He does nothing but insult Trevor and the Belmonts without provocation, and it's not funny banter, he's mean! He's genuinely cruel! He hears that Trevor lost his family at 12, and he can only say "lol and lmao I had more of a childhood than you. anyway they were mentally ill and child killers, they sacrificed chickens and hoarded dead cats". And this piece of shit is the most popular character of the show??? he's not even pretty what are y'all seeing 😭

(it's also weird how he's all angsting about killing his vampire father, but he hates the Belmont for being vampire hunters. bro. bro you're also about to hunt a vampire. why are you defending a race of monsters so staunchly. not even a hint of, I don't know, a Belmont hurting him when he was a child because he was confused for a full vampire? Remember that logically, a vampire child is a child turned into a vampire, we have no other indication that dhampirs are running all around the world. I know that in the games he seems fully on board with "vampires bad and me bad for being half vampire", but you have the chance of making it better and you squander it?)

Sypha is also ruder than I remembered. I think she suddenly became more cheerful in S3 and that's why I liked her, but also girl, you keep criticizing Trevor for being rude and not consoling you, but you look at him with a perpetual resting bitch face and insult the Morning Star calling it an "ugly thing"? Why does Trevor even bother with the likes of you? How is Trephacard the most popular ship in the franchise?

I hate Isaac. Oh, I gave him the benefit of the doubt back then, because I really wanted to understand why he became the fan favorite. But now? No, I'm sorry, he's overrated as fuck. He's so damn pretentious, his speech about how he wants a pure world without love is terrible from the lens of him being a Muslim who is devoted to the Devil, and his backstory is so tryhard and historically inaccurate that I almost prefer Hector's past being exposed through voiceover.

Oh, and Hector, I hate his scenes. Because he's actually treated with dignity. He's fine! I actually like the guy! I like the scene where he rebukes Godbrand (who as a character only exists to attract infodumps and to question Dracula) because "I have to work" - he sounds actually proud of his role, if not even competent, perish the thought. Also by reading the scripts online I forgot that he was the one who yelled "you do not question my loyalty!". Which I like a lot? I can hear the real Hector protesting like that out of pride, even if in private he would admit that he disagrees with the bloodshed. And the scene where he soothes the newborn Night Creature... yeah, this character used to be written with respect, and knowing how he gets tortured and disrespected and used for rape apologism by a sex pest hurts even more. Also, in retrospect, the scene where he stares at the fire while reminiscing about the day he set fire on his own childhood home doesn't go anywhere, even as the finale of S3 echoes it :^)

And Dracula, oh my poor man Dracula. He's already being presented as an ineffectual depressed old man spending his time staring at a fireplace, who can't even command his presence in the war room, who allows Carmilla to insult him and Lisa in front of everyone - it's so embarrassing how he gets the Red Eyes of Fury and then he simply... lets her go after he gets the flimsy explanation of "yeah I humiliated you because everyone is asking themselves the same question. I wanted to help <3" girl (Dracula), she's a mere regional ruler, as she herself said??? why do you need her so much that you allow her to do this shit??????? oh but then you posture to godbrand, he gets to be threatened because... he's not relevant to the plot i guess. fucking pathetic. what have they done to my man.

(and I hate Carmilla. but that has never changed. annoying smug ass #girlboss with the charisma of spoiled seafood. her way of manipulating Hector isn't even manipulation, it's just her telling him very plainly what she wants him to do. She and Lenore utterly suck at their job, and they only get their way because muh plot)

And then there's the infodumping. Oh my god these people won't shut the fuck up. Godbrand is like "why should we listen to two humans?" and Dracula dumps twice that he trusts Hector and Isaac for their human nature (which, again, it's a decent reasoning, but it goes on and on and even they should know, I get it). Alucard dumps about the apocalyptic scenario where Dracula wins and rules over a world without humans... but he only describes it as we look into his ugly face, instead of doing something more creative like actually showing what would happen. Hector gets this random flashback-through-sound, shoved there as if Ellis didn't know where to put it in the script; later on he explains to Carmilla the origin of Night Creatures, as if ever remotely matters. Isaac dumps about his jihadist philosophy about how by killing humans he and Dracula will create a pure world. Carmilla randomly reveals her Tragic Backstory after kicking Godbrand down the stairs, another scene I can't stand because it's all about what a #queen she is and how she's better than Dracula. At one point they seriously discuss about the myth of vampires unable to cross running water, which is a moot point anyway because Carmilla resorts to using a zombie bishop to bless the river!! No I will never let it go!!!

(also I love that in the one occasion where Alucard has the chance of describing his childhood, he retells the tale of Lisa meeting Dracula, something we've already seen and he was also obviously told about, not something he experienced himself. They couldn't even come up with another anedocte to actually tell us what kind of mother Lisa used to be. so lazy)

This show is half people sitting in a circle and talking, and half average fight scenes. Yeah at this point not even those impress me anymore. I'm serious when I say that Knuckles' fight scene in Divergence, also animated by Powerhouse Animation Studios, is of a better quality than what the show has offered.

And this is why I'm so reluctant to watch Nocturne. If the best seasons of this highly acclaimed show are so painful to sit through, how are we going to survive a sequel series that not even the fans liked it as much?

[staybabblingbaby]

Felix Tinder AU (First Date Part) A1 D1

[Caution: These are not full fics, or even full parts of fics for some, these are part of my writing progress archive!]

Concept: You match with what you think is a Stray Kids fan account on Tinder. You get along great with the account's owner, and think it's probably your most successful match to-date. Little do you know who's actually behind the screen...

Word Count: 1,543

Notes: I've avoided posting this one for so long because I've ended up doing something completely different, and it's probably going to end up as a hybrid SMAU for the actual thing. Plus, I didn't know Felix was religious when I wrote this and now it feels kind of disrespectful... Still! That's the purpose of the Archive! To see the writing in all of it's stages! So it's going up. There is no sequential part rn, but there is another attempt I will be posting soon that's VERY different.

Warnings: Talking about Religion and Parasocial relationships at one point.

Leave me comments or questions or anything! Love hearing from folks <3

Masterlist | Next Part (Coming soon!)

As you pull to a stop in front of the fanciest hotel you’ve ever seen in your life, you can’t help but wonder how you’d gotten here. Feeling small and dirty in your beat up little car, you pull out your phone. Tinder’s fire-y little logo taunts you as you pull up the chat you need.

Ah, yes. Tinder. The root of all your problems, honestly. Not actually, but it feels like it right this second.

It had all started a few weeks ago. You were going through one of your lonely phases, where you started trying to join hobbyist groups and downloaded every dating app in existence in desperate attempts to at least make a friend. You’d do this just about every year or so, despite the fact that you were never able to make close or long lasting relationships through it, platonic or otherwise.

You’d always end up too busy with work or burn out your social battery way too early into a friendship to be passing up the opportunity to hang out. Not to mention quickly getting overwhelmed with the dating apps and retreating from them post-haste. It was a vicious cycle of loneliness and social exhaustion that you hadn’t figured out how to escape yet.

Tinder happened to be one of the dating apps you’d downloaded. Though you always had ‘NO HOOKUPS’ in all caps at the start of your profile, Tinder had always had great results for you in terms of matches. You’d met several long and short-term friends through the app, though no romantic prospects as of yet. Probably not ever, given Tinder’s nature, but you’d remain hopeful, if doubtful.

It had been during your initial binge-swiping that you’d noticed a funny profile. With just a cute Bbokari picture and a few video game memes in their gallery, the fully filled out profile and simple name, ‘Felix’, had felt intriguing. It had seemed just a bit backwards for what you recall Tinder being all about, regardless of how complicated the profiles got.

‘Travelling the US for a couple months, let’s cross paths!’ read the first line of the profile. You’d weighed the pros and cons of potential long distance and immediately decided that you didn’t care. Your profile was set for friends, anyways, and you‘d long had more internet friends than irl ones.

You’d swiped without anymore thought and lo’ and behold you’d matched immediately. Still riding the surge of social energy that came with deciding you’re desperate enough for dating apps, you’d decided to open with a little joke.

‘So, is this a SKZ fan account on Tinder or something? bc i could b into that lol’

You probably should have expected the immediate reply, seeing as you’d made your account all of 30 minutes prior and he’d swiped on you first, judging by the immediate match. Of course he was online. It’d still caught you off guard though.

‘Something like that lol. You a STAY?’

‘something like that :p’ ‘enough of one 2 have a bunch of their songs on my playlist, but that’s all i’ll say on that’

‘aw c’mon, who’s your bias?’

‘nuh uh, i’ve said enough. k-pop babble requires level 3 friendship’

‘lol alright, i’ll ask how your days been then’ ‘How’s your day going?’

The rest was, as they say, history. The two of you had really hit it off and kept chatting even as you quickly grow overwhelmed and stop your swiping crusades. You tell him about your forays into building a social life and, when that doesn’t pan out, about your latest crochet projects. He, in turn, tells you that he and his friends are traveling all over the US for work over the next couple of months and provides you with silly hotel room anecdotes.

If you never thought more deeply about the coincidence of a guy named Felix having a Bbokari picture on his Tinder profile, well, there were millions of STAYs worldwide. It only made sense that there was at least one Felix bias named Felix out there.

It’s only a few days later that you feel solid enough in your budding friendship to ask a burning question.

‘Not to switch topics (i’m sure my crochet rants r riveting), but can i ask a question?’

‘(They absolutely are) sure!’ ‘I retain my right to silence tho ;P’

‘lol fair ennough’

‘I was just wondering y you don’t have any pics on here?’ ‘I’m p convinved ur not a serial killer by now’

‘I could be, you never know!’ ‘stranger danger’

[pause represented either by text or in fake text tbd]

‘i’m just shy’ ‘I like to talk before anything else’

‘That’s fair’ ‘I’m good at talking lol’ ‘you may have noticed im a bit of a yapper’

‘lol’ ‘yeah, i like it :D’

You had to pretend very hard not to be flustered after that conversation. And also try very hard not to examine why that simple acknowledgement sent your heart fluttering.

You’d quickly switched the subject back to ranting about how black yarn was the devil and despairing about your lack of ability to count. You may be minorly allergic to serious conversations, but Felix hadn’t seemed to mind.

Another week goes by, Felix keeps you updated on his cross-country adventure and you whine about how much you envy his job for letting him travel. He laughs you off and retorts with how exhausting it gets. He seems to be genuinely enjoying the hell out of whatever it is he’s doing though, so you don’t take him too seriously.

As time goes on your conversations get deeper. It’s towards the end of a conversation about religion, belief systems, and community that something shifts between you, ever so slightly.

‘ok but like’ ‘and hear me out here’ ‘religion is a parasocial relationship with a being of dubious existence’

‘lol what?’

‘No but fr!’ ‘ok so, like’ ‘listen it’s like k-pop idols, right?’

‘right?’

‘LISTEN, ok, so you know how, like, idols are basically manufactured to build a parasocial relationship with fans?’ ‘to the point some fans are actually insane about it?’

‘I’m well aware, yes’

‘Well religion is the same thing, i mean, think about it!’ ‘I have not met a devout Christian who wasn’t a lil insane abt their relationship with God’ ‘some are rlly nice abt it, but they literally say “our holy father who art in heaven” and call themselves his children’ ‘THAT is a parasocial relationship!’ ‘It’s the same w idols, right?’ ‘except the relationship is dating or friends or whatever image theyre curating’

‘right’

‘and think about it this way ok’ ‘the reason parasocial relationships are treated with cuation despite our predisposition to them as humans in the digital age is because they get dangerous when people delude themselves into thinking its real’ ‘It’s the same thing with religion except theyre encouraged 2 believe its all real in an attempt to instill them with certain morals’ ‘That’s how you get religous extremests’

‘I hadn’t thought of it that way’

‘and don’t get me wrong! I eat that shit up. I’m on bubble and all sorts. it’s just a facinating parallel between religon and fan spaces and the communities they create.’ ‘some fandoms are more organized than some churches i’ve seen’

‘i think this is the first time you’ve mentioned k-pop since we started talking’ ‘so you’re on bubble, huh? interesting’

‘Noooo my babbling has betrayed me!’ ‘I always knew it would T^T’

‘lol i still wanna know who your bias is’

‘you’ll die wondering’

‘well, then, what are your thoughts about meeting an idol?’

‘what is this, an interview?’

‘maybe’

‘lol ok’

‘i mean, in the vein of all fans, i’d be thrilled? ig?’

‘ig?’

‘Well, i’m kinda scared lol’ ‘idols intimidate me’

‘aw why are you scared?! i’m sure they’re lovely’

‘lol they’d have to b xD’ ‘idk man they just scare me! If i saw an idol in the wild i’d flee, no hesitation’ ‘poof, gone’

‘lolol imagine that poor idol saw you book it the other direction’

‘they’d survive lol’ ‘but nah, yeah, i’d be thrilled to meet an idol but i’d pass out i think’

‘well don’t do that’

‘listen, strangers scare me enough, attractive strangers that i admire very much? terrifying’

‘fair enough ig’ ‘so you wouldn’t talk to an idol if given the chance?’

‘y r u so interested? this is a weird line of question’

‘i’m just curious!’

‘i mean, depends on the context? a fan sign or something i’d probably b fine, if a nervous wreck, but like’ ‘in public?’ ‘I’d prolly keep my distance’ ‘like’ ‘Idols deserve their privacy too, yknow?’ ‘nerves aside, leaving them tf alone would just be the polite thing’ ‘idols are people too, yknow? I try not to forget that, regardless of how godly their music’

‘I agree’ ‘I think they’d appriciate that’

‘right? and, like, if i ever met an idol i’d have to confront the reality that they themselves are real, yknow?’ ‘it wouldn’t make me less of a fan but i’d def feel weird about several fan activities’

‘lol like what?’

‘wouldn’t you like to know weather boy?’

After that conversation, you couldn’t put your finger on it, but something had shifted in your friendship.

[studywgabi]

I'm a Method Cashier!

And this was a role I could really sink my teeth into.

Okay, so, first of all, to work at Store there are 2 online applications, an online training course, 3 questionnaires for your references to fill out, 3 interviews (2 alone and 1 group), a background check, an unpaid 4-hr. orientation, a drug test, a pacer test, a polygraph test administered by an F.B.I. agent (and not like the sexy ones on Criminal Minds), a blood oath, and you have to be able to put on lipstick like Molly Ringwald in The Breakfast Club. Jesus, there are less requirements to be elected president. And a cult wouldn't make you jump through this many hoops to join.

My Marketable Skills: I'm a warm body and I'm not an asshole. I'm not going to say "we should hang out outside of work" to my coworkers or mouth off to the customers. Basically, you should hire me because you could do a whole lot worse.

But I couldn't just say that. I couldn't just be honest. It had to be, with tears glistening in my eyes: "It has been my lifelong dream to be a cashier at Store. Cashiering is my passion. I have 3 Ph.D.s in Applied Cashiering, Cashiering Theory, and Experimental Cashiering from Harvard University's School of Cashiering, and I completed a postdoctoral fellowship at Oxford University's St. Cashier Cashiering College. I have 97 years of experience in the field."

So, I get there, for the first interview, in my silly little outfit, mostly stolen from my mom's closet. I walk in and say excuse me to the first employee I see. She clutches her chest, looks bewildered, and says "excuse me" back.

Gabi, apprehensively: "Hi, I'm here for an interview, could I speak to a manager please?"

Employee #1, startled: "Yeah." She walks off and I assume I'm meant to follow her.

My dead name sounds vaguely similar to the name of a character from a classic poem you read the Wikipedia summary of in ninth grade English class. The first five letters are the same, but the character's name ends with an a, and mine with an e. Anyway, while we were walking, we introduced ourselves and she said, and I've never have cause to use the word "chortling" before, but if there was ever a time, it was then, "Well, your mother must have been a big The Poet fan, huh?" (as if I've never heard that one before). I mustered a polite chuckle and said nothing.

Employee #1, sneering: "You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"

Gabi, wishing for death: "No, I know the poem."

Employee #1, under her breath: "Big deal."

The rest of the walk is silent. We turn a corner and see a boy about my age. She starts calling his name, he fully makes eye contact with her, and then turns and speedwalks away. She keeps calling after him and picks up the pace to reach him, but he outruns her. No need to watch the documentary through your fingers, the antelope is safe this time. It turns out he wasn't even the manager, because I meet her next. The interview goes okay and I get the second one. I ask a different employee this time. She says into her walkie-talkie, "Anthony, Daniella is here for an interview, do you want to deal with that?"

Anthony comes be-bopping up to me at 1,000 mph. When he's still several aisles away, he calls out "Hi, Friend!!" in an acoustic guitar-playing youth pastor voice. He leads me to the office, racing down the aisles like there's an serial killer revving a chainsaw behind him, and by the time I catch up in my pencil skirt and heels, I'm panting and sweating. Maybe this is part of the interview: seeing if you can keep up metaphorically and literally. The weakest shall be sacrificed.

Tony asks me, not why I want to work at Store, but why I want to work in general, as if earning money to eat is a casual hobby, like knitting. He asks me if I've applied anywhere else, like Store is a jealous girlfriend. Then he asks me if I have any questions, and I know you're supposed to have something, so I pull a couple out my ass. After he answers them, he asks if I have any more, and, thinking I'm out of the woods, I say not for now.

Anthony, ominously: "You sure?" Slowly pan back to Gabi.

Gabi, brightly: "I'm sure I'll have more during orientation if I'm hired, but I think I'm covered for now. Thank you!"

(Beat.) Anthony: "Well, you know, I'm just gonna give you some advice: you really should have more questions. But don't worry, I'm gonna go ahead and tell you a little bit more about how the Store family does things."

45 minutes later, he asks for a third set of questions, and then, believe or not, a fourth. Sir, this is my interview. You're not a celebrity guest on The Fucking Tonight Show. If you're so desperate for me to ask you questions, why don't you apply to this job? Or do like the rest of us and pretend you're on Ricki Lake talking about how brave you are to share the story of your divorce from Tim McGraw and how it inspired your new album, "Warm Regards, Gabi," currently topping the country charts while you shampoo your hair.

Three business days later, my email: "Congratulations! You have been selected to join the Store Family! Please report for orientation next Wednesday at noon."

Another day, another dollar.

[laylawatermelon]

Buddie: it's The Way It's Played

Aka don't hate the player hate the game or whatever.

(i promise the is Buddie at the halfway point if you just want meta)

I woke up pondering about edy's comments and found it a bit funny and ironic because she probably doesn't know just like we don't know.

Oliver recently talked about how he wasn't heavily involved in this upcoming episode 2 so he'll be getting to watch it for the first time with us.

It's the same case with her. In her eyes she does her few scenes and goes home.

In her head she is the chosen love interest and she is indeed being asked to come back.

The second half of the season hasn't publicly been announced (or fully filmed I assume) so she's just as oblivious as we are.

What I will say is that celebrities should know to not be in the spaces of fandom and don't get heavily involved.

Especially with shippers.

As a fangirl I have always been protective, I would say, over my stuff but I made like a rule that I don't reply or have online arguments.

(mostly because i get riled up easily in real life and it's dangerous imagine doing it with a complete stranger or a mob of them if we're being fr because there's never just one person arguing with you.)

It's likely millions or billions 🙃

Also as a fangirl, I don't mind shipping or not shipping.

Do what you want, I don't care.

I grew up in the good ole don't like scroll away time.

What I'm getting at is that some people are more comfortable on online spaces. Some are more quiet (like me) but they're there.

I've recently become disillusioned slowly over the years of Hollywood ( all the woods honestly) glamour so when they are shown or said to be bad people I treat them as such.

Cause they're that.

People.

Who do good and bad stuff all the time.

Granted we don't a camera or constant surveillance or record (or funds) all the time, but I'd bet we said/did bad stuff.

Now in Hollywood's case their stuff is mainly criminal/jail/wtf is going on over there?!??!

In her case, I'm not surprised.

There's people who are homophobic/transphobic and everyphobic (and -ist!!) in the world so of course they would be in show business.

Cause they're people. We got people (like millions of them, a concerning number in worldwide leadership positions but that's a story for another day...) like that all over.

Celebrities are not and never will be role models. They are public images projected onto a pretty body.

That's also the reason why I'm saying that she should shut her computer and cut her losses.

(a lot of celebrities should do that honestly)

But, it does let you know who to support and who not to.

And I'd rather know my enemy rather than worship a perfect image honestly.

I also think it's unwise to fight the people who are literally indirectly paying your bills.

There are 93k people (just on Tumblr) who ship the guys.

Even I know better and I'm a fan.

(i think it's because I'm a fan and ik how it can get I'm just an observer cause whew 😥😮‍💨)

That's not counting the ones not active here or casuals who agree with the pairing.

If they pay your bills walk on eggshells ma'am. You're job quite literally hinges on people liking you.

So be likable.

(once again I will reiterate as a fan/human with a heart let me know how bad you are so I don't give you my love if you're a bad person with shady morals.)

But as an observer it's like just shhhhhh. Please. The Internet is forever. There is no timeline for it. What are you doing??

If I'd say it it's like watching you drive a burning car driving down the street and you're sitting in it proudly waving and hitting people but insist you're right or a good person.

I'm just shocked at some people's let's say narrow thinking aka limited timeline thinking.

Fans and the Internet didn't forget. They will find you.👹

But I wanna talk about Buddie now!

Okay.

Now that we've criticized celebrity culture and the response of ms. Edy and her bad mindset (aka lack of critical reading and decision making with fandoms and responses in general also queerphobia?!) that honestly I appreciate.

Be a bad apple in public.

Imma stand on business.

Expeditiously 😤.

Bye bye support and hello uproar.

But back to Buddie 😘😚🤗😝, I wanna be clear I am a fan but I am also very critical of media.

It's the way they act.

Literally.

The reason Buddie even exists and is accepted is it's literally there. (Their fault)

There is no subtext.

The actors play it as such, the directors direct it as such and the marketing play it as such.

I'm a bit upset seeing y'all called clowns (although i hope it's said affectionately cause tone indicators or the lack of) because you're not crazy.

They quite literally put the battery in y'all backs so it shouldn't be surprising if the battery is more high powered than expected.

You are not misreading anything.

Most people just choose to ignore the signs because

(the church! Homophobia! All rhe -ias and ists!)

Truly our downfall as a modern society.

Anyways, as a writer and heavy media consumer there's no mistakes.

Every wprd is carefully chosen, every shot has a purpose and every cut is done. These things are practiced a thousand times, edited, retaked a thousand times if they have to.

There's no mistakes in media. It's literally made to influence, persuade and educate.

Nothing is a coincidence!

But after reading a few interviews and listening to the fandom I think we can also say with confidence they've been playing it as a romance.

There's nothing platonic.

They have platonic couples on the show.

That

is not it.

Even if you see it as pure writing without the context of their acting choices.

Let's say kitchen scene.

You wanna work it out in the ring (throws playful punches)

I'd take you.

I wouldn't do that. You're on blood thinners.

Buck steps closer to playfully intimidate him.

You wanna go for the title?

Now pause.

Ik we all know that scene religiously and can only see it as insane (because they are. It is.) but I read it in my mind as a blank sheet of paper and couldn't help but wonder.

Why would you say it like that?!??!!?

Mr. Oliver Stark and Mr. Ryan Guzman I sentence you will eternal jail cause wtfff?

I imagined it more platonically. You can quite literally put, let's say, Hen and Chim in that same scenario. Damn even Eddie and Chim.

Their acting choices would reflect that. Hell, read the lines without looking (or hearing their insane intonation) and imagine your best friend. Any friend for that matter.

It wasn't playful, it was well, sexually tense. 🤷🏾‍♀️

Ps i love buck 1.0 and was shooketh to see his return because i watched the show backwards. i did season 2-6 in like a week then begrudgingly did season 1. Me nah like abby ...

They are choosing to act it out as a romance.

Now that could lend itself to male partnership in movies (and real life) where they went to war together that were usually where gay/queer men had partnerships/relationships in every sense of the word.

The shows ain't got it from nothing. 🤷🏾‍♀️

There's always truth in fiction.

I also find out a bit hilarious to imagine the director tried to get them to stop but the takes were either too good or they kept pushing the envelope and the editors were like yes. 🤗

I will put this shot of them longingly staying at each other instead of the slightly less neutral one.

Or cut when they say we're the only ones who don't have kids (+buck) then cut to Buck being a good dad! 🤗

On a bit of a more serious note let's say it is a bit of manipulation of the masses marketing wise.

The show is very queer friendly with a (black!) lesbian couple, a gay man, an engaged (black!) gay couple and many queer stories of different races in their cases that are told wonderfully.

I acknowledge and comment them for it but ..

The big problem is how Buddie is treated. (Or rather the very rational people who ship them)

(which their name is kind of funny because I link it to buddy cop movies that can be homoerotic when they feel like it and buddie is technically that trope)

Homosexual media (in the case of film) has always been subtext, hidden, stereotyped, twisted or been outright secret messages for the girls to uncode (cause religion 🤷🏾‍♀️).

It has only been like very recent that queer people have been gaining respect in media so it's not surprising.

What life was like in 2019 to now in terms of queer media is like night and day. The same would be for the 2000s. Gay was used as an insult. The world is quite literally changing before our eyes.

In their case, the elf scene is said to be a wink at the audience.

But the actors took it seriously. So we do as well.

Aka the battery put in they back.

They respect the same vision. 😤goated

The chemistry is undeniable, and the tropes they have parallel a lot of romantic things used historically in media. (And in the show *bathena* but🤷🏾‍♀️)

It's not an accident to say that if one of them had been female (aka the "acceptable" pairing) they'd have been together.

You could argue that if he'd been with Maddie like intended they'd be together. And little jiyun would be a sister.

She might be a Jane actually??

Back on topic.

I found it interesting when watching like a compilation (cause i did nawt watch the show before become a buddie fan) and found it hilarious because it was like their normal behavior and i felt the romantic tension shift. It was like whoooaaa holup. The air shifted.

It's very easy to spot it because at the first few episodes it was very platonic then it became very side eye....

What do you mean he's cute? What do you mean wanna go for the title?

(That scene is eternally insane)

What do you mean with other couples they're paired as a family? Consistently?

What do you mean the kid and you go on solo family outings to the zoo? Constantly? For years?

You take care of him like all the time?

What do you mean he's your kid's legal guardian and partly the reason you lived after being trapped in a well?

The actors play it romantically. Ryan does cause I remember step up.

After like a year together? Over his family? Who are not firefighters??

Ik how he is when he's flirting.

The show also (unfortunately) writes their love interests as tools of self growth for them (which can be a bit problematic cause the women aren't being treated three dimensionally characters men get to be. the two who were closest were abby, and Taylor. Shannon was so so for me personally. Which is odd because they have complex main females it's just unfortunate that the women they have for them are rarely people outside of the relationship and that's why it falls apart in the case of their relationship/people getting invested).

Nobody is quite literally written as important to each other like them. They are in a relationship no doubt. We can say queer platonic now (as they are raising a kid together?!??!! Like come on. Chim and Hen aren't like Buck and Ed. Also the good cop bad cop scene?)

It's just not sexual I'd say.

Cause emotionally, mentally all that is there.

And they could absolutely play it "straighter" 🥴 cause I've seen a plethora of male friendships (slight side eye ry we got buddy cop movies galore don't play with me!!!) where they support each other.

They don't act like that!!!! Look at this and tell me I'm wrong!

(i feel insane but I'm not i swear)

the lighting, the cut, the conversation im melting~~~!!!!

It's not inaccurate to say that the way they're written (and acted!!) is more romantic than platonic.

I'd assume they couldn't let the two hot men who represent "manliness" be together because they didn't fit into a (gay) stereotype.

But they will gladly let you advertise their show to the high heavens and bring in millions of dollars in revenue, which does upset me ngl but 🤷🏾‍♀️ hey, can't hate the player hate the game right?

[astriiformes]

To be completely honest I have been doing some Wrestling as of late (by which I mean. since October) because despite all the joy finishing my conversion last year brought me, debilitating moral OCD and the Ongoing Situation do not mix well. Which has been really hard because it's very difficult to be like well, I'm so glad to have joined this community for real and properly just in time for it to suddenly be a source of immense difficulty for me, too. And I'm trying my best to be involved in organizing efforts and to connect with likeminded Jews but it's still been very hard.

And on top of everything having another friend starting their conversion exploration journey recently has been making me realize how strange and lonely and isolated mine was, because it was so affected by the pandemic and lockdown and I didn't get to join my classmates in doing activities outside of class or celebrate holidays with other people or even go to our shul until fairly late in my journey. And of course I had all the other hiccups, like working with three different rabbis due to circumstances out of my control. And it was so worth it and the right choice, but still deeply imperfect in ways I feel sort of melancholy about.

But this last week I'm suddenly finding my place in ways that have been missing for a bit and it feels so important. The Jewish printing symposium I attended was so amazing, and I finally set up my recurring donation to my synagogue now that I'm officially a member and seeing my name and my Hebrew name next to each other in the online portal is making me smile, and some other people from my shul that I don't know very well but would like to get to know better invited me to a second night Seder at their place later this month that I think will be really good, and I'm doing research for a paper on medieval Jewish science for my medieval history class and reading excerpts from the De'ot ha-Filosofim and Midrash ha-Ḥokhmah and Sha'ar ha-Shamayim, and I've been working on my Yiddish and listening to a lot of Yiddish folk and punk music along with it, and today I think I'm going to finally talk to the LGBT history curator about the queer Jewish archives event we're doing in May, and it feels like something important has clicked back into place, that I think is going to make me both happier & more effective at the organizing work I want to be a part of but haven't been able to engage with fully for months now.

Anyways I feel like this Pesach is going to Get me because of the timing of this all, and also I already had some really, really hard stuff happen to me last Pesach that I have mostly processed but has still had some far-reaching repercussions, so there's an element of anniversary trauma (?) meets healthy processing that I know is going to happen, too.

But it's still a good reminder of why I chose all this, and that religion & spirituality & community really are incredibly important to me, even when they're difficult (maybe even especially when there's difficulty) and also that I am tougher than I give myself credit for and not totally a victim of my own brain! Which is! An important feeling, if not necessarily an easy one.