#also i live in the global south so i think EYE know a thing or two about being gnc in a society of rigid awful gender roles‼️

[kaladinkholins]

i know I've mentioned my interpretation of mizu's gender a million times on here but i don't think i ever fully elaborated on it.

so on that note i just wanna ramble about that for a bit. basically, it's my reading of the show that mizu is nonbinary, so let me dig into that.

putting the rest under the cut because it ended being pretty long lol. also here have a cute mizu pic of her being happy and most at ease with herself, symbolised by her letting her hair down. <3 ok let's proceed.

okay note that nonbinary is an umbrella term, and applies to a vast range of gender identities, but it's my personal preference to use it as is, simply because i'm not a fan of microlabels. more power to you if you are though, but anyway.

essentially when i refer to mizu as nonbinary it means that i interpret mizu as a woman, but not ONLY a woman. not strictly a woman. she is also a man. she is also neither of these things, she is something in between, while at the same time she is none of these at all. i've said as much many times, but i just don't want people to think that by nonbinary it inherently means a "third androgynous gender" that essentially turns the gender binary into a gender trinary. not only is that going against what the term nonbinary was crafted for (to go against rigid boxes and categorisation of gender identities), but also, not all nonbinary people fall under that category or definition, and that's definitely not the way i interpret mizu.

also, before anyone fights me on this, let me clarify further that gender means something different to everyone. it's not your biological sex or physical characteristics. but at the same time, gender is not mere presentation. you can be a trans woman and still present masculine—either because you're closeted and forced to, or because you just want to—and either way, that doesn't take away from your identity as a woman. same goes for trans men. if you're a trans man but you wear skirts and don't bind or don't get top surgery, that doesn't make you any less of a man. because gender non-conformity exists, and does not only apply to cis people! some lesbians are nonbinary and prefer using he/him pronouns while dressing masculinely, but that doesn't mean they're a man, or that they're any less of a lesbian. neither does this mean that they're a cis woman.

the thing about queer identities in general is that, like i said, they mean something different to everyone, because how you identify—regardless of your biological attributes and fashion or pronouns—is an extremely personal experience. so a nonbinary person and a gnc cis woman's experiences might have plenty of overlap, but what distinguishes between the two is up to the individual. there's no set requirements to distinguish you as one or the other, but it's up to you to decide what you identify as, based on what you feel. either way, by simply identifying yourself as anything under the LGBTQ+ umbrella, you are already communicating to the world that you are not what a conservative, cisheteronormative society wants you to be.

which is why i find all this queer infighting on labels to be so ridiculous. because we're all fighting the same fight; the common enemy is a societal structure that divides us into set roles and expectations purely based on our biological parts. that's why biological essentialism in the queer community is a fucking disease. because by arguing that women are inherently weak and fragile and soft and gentle and must be protected from evil ugly men, while men are inherently strong and angry and violent and exploitative of women, these people are advocating for the same fucked up system that marginalises and abuses women as well as effeminate and/or gay men.

anyway. i'm going on a tangent. this was meant to be a blue eye samurai post. so yeah back to that— the point i'm trying to make is that there's no one way to identify as anything, and everyone views gender in a specific way.

so with that being said, yes you can definitely interpret mizu as a gnc cis woman and that's a totally valid reading. however, interpreting her as nonbinary or transmasc also doesn't take away from her experiences with misogyny and female oppression, because nonbinary and transmasc folks also experience these things.

me, personally, i view her as nonbinary but not necessarily or always transmasc because i still believe femininity and womanhood is an inherent part of who mizu is. for example, from what we've seen, she does not like binding. it does not give her gender euphoria, but is instead very uncomfortable for her both physically and mentally, and represents her suppressing her true self. which is why when she "invites the whole" of herself, she stands completely bare in front of the fire, breasts unbound and hair untied. when she is on the ship heading to a new land in the ending scene, she is no longer hiding her neck and the lack of an adam's apple. we can thus infer that mizu does not have body dysmorphia. she is, in fact, comfortable in her body, and relies on it extremely, because her body is a weapon. instead, what mizu hates about herself is her face—her blue eyes. she hates herself for her hybridised identity, hates herself for being a racial Other. hates that she has no home in her homeland. these are not queer or feminist themes, but postcolonial ones.*

* and as a tiny aside on this subject, i really do wish more of the fandom discussion would talk about this more. it's just such an essential part to reading her character. like someone who's read homi k bhabha's location of culture and has watched this show, PLEASE talk to me so we can ramble all about how the show is all about home and alienation from community. please. okay anyway—

nevertheless, queer and feminist themes (which are not mutually exclusive by the way!) are still prevalent in her story, though they are not the main issue that she is struggling with. but she does struggle with it to some extent, and we see this especially during her marriage with mikio, where we see her struggle in women's domestic spaces.

on the other hand, though, she finds no trouble or discomfort in being a man or being around other men—even naked ones—and does not seem stifled by living as one, does not seem all that bothered or uncomfortable navigating through men's spaces. contrast this to something like disney's mulan (1998), where we do see mulan struggle in navigating through men's spaces, as she feels uncomfortable being around so many men, always feeling like she doesn't belong and that she's inherently different from them. mizu has no such experiences like this, as her very personality and approach to life is what can be categorised as typically "masculine". she is straightforward and blunt. her first meeting with mikio, she tells him straight to his face that he's old while frowning and raising a brow at him. she approaches problems with her muscles and fists (or swords), rather than with her words or mind. compare this with mulan, who, while well-trained by the end of the movie, still uses her sharp wits rather than brute strength. this is a typically "feminine" approach. it's also the approach akemi relies on throughout the show—through her intelligence and persuasive tongue, she navigates the brothel with ease. mizu, in contrast to someone like mulan and akemi, struggles with womanhood and femininity, and feels detached from it.

thus, in my opinion, mizu is not simply a man, nor is she simply a woman. she is both. man and woman. masculine and feminine. she has to accept both, rather than suppress one or the other. her name means water. fluid.

as a side note, while i do believe mizu is nonbinary, i also primarily use she/her pronouns but this is a personal preference. i find it's easier, plus it's what the creators use, and because, in general, being nonbinary simply doesn't necessitate the use of they/them pronouns. nonbinary is not just a third gender. it's about breaking the binary, in any which way, and that's exactly what mizu does.

also, i'd also like to mention that one of show's head of story even referred to her with the term "nonbinary", rather than simply "androgynous" (see pic below). and it's possible this could be a slip up on his part, in which he believes the terms are interchangeable (they're not btw), but regardless i find it a very interesting word choice, and one that supports my stance.

so anyway yeah that's my incredibly long rambling post.

TL;DR nonbinary mizu rights 👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻 congrats if you reached the end of this btw. also ily. unless you're a TERF in which case fuck off. ok i'm done.

#mizu blue eye samurai #mizu bes #blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai meta #sorry if this is redundant btw i just cant stop thinking thoughts :3 #btw i am a mixed* southeast asian who is also nonbinary. just in case that's important context #by mixed* i mean i'm asian+asian but diff ethnicities lol. i dont have a white bone in my body god bless<3 #my whiteness is purely learned thru cultural osmosis + bcs my parents taught me english as a first language (boooo 🍅🍅🍅) #also i live in the global south so i think EYE know a thing or two about being gnc in a society of rigid awful gender roles‼️ #so likeee i think its ridiculous that its an either-or thing #mizu can be nonbinary while still being a woman of colour ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ #also ummm as much as i love queer themes and gay people i wish people would talk more about the racial otherness / community aspect #as mentioned in the post above #you don't need to read bhabha's whole book btw but just take a look at some of his ideas and you'll get what im talking about #like the fact that the fandom mostly ignores those themes in the story makes me feel like :( :/ #cuz to me THATS the thing that spoke to me most and its a shame that its just not talked about enough #i mean i know why thats likely the case. but still. #whoops im rambling again 🤪 #fandom.rtf #shut up haydar #meta dissertations.pdf

[bookshelfmonkey]

Thanks for the tag @storkmuffin :)

Are you named after anyone? Not my first name, which I just chose because I liked it, but one of my middle names is Bowie (as in David Bowie).

When was the last time you cried? A couple of weeks ago, when I was feeling completely overwhelmed by the state of trans rights globally and especially in the UK (where I live) and the ongoing tragedies happening as a result. (Sidenote: it's weird to me how little I've cried since starting T, I used to cry multiple times a week and now it's every few months)

Do you have kids? No.

What sports do you play/have you played? I swam for about 6-8 years as a kid but always kinda hated it, and eventually quit when the dysphoria became too much. I did football and badminton on and off too, but was never really good at anything (asthma & possible dyspraxia & hypermobility etc.). Now I'm trying to run and work out mostly just to stay healthy. I'd like to get back into swimming but can't really afford to go to a pool regularly and I'm scared to go by myself. I also go to a lgbtq+ football club weekly when I'm in my hometown (my friend started an under-18s one which I used to do too and it was pretty much my only positive experience of sports).

Do you use sarcasm? Rarely, and only with close friends where we mutually joke like that with each other.

What's the first thing you notice about people? I actually don't know. I think most of the time I'm too caught up in the anxiety of meeting someone new that I'm more focussed on myself.

What's your eye colour? Bluey grey.

Scary movies or happy endings? Happy endings. I'll watch some scary movies but sometimes they just make me too anxious to enjoy them.

Any talents? I can read pretty quickly with good comprehension (I like to take my time when reading for fun, but as an english lit student who always has a fuck ton of essays and shit to read, it's handy), I can bake really good gingerbread, and I'm weirdly good at immitating people's walks (the same way some people can do voice impressions).

Where were you born? A small city in south west england (not saying more than that for safety/privacy).

What are your hobbies? I read (a lot); I write fiction, poetry, book reviews & TV show reviews (see pinned post on where to find some of these); I embroider and sew; I enjoy baking and cooking but don't do it much atm because I don't like my flatmates so I spend as little time as possible in our kitchen where I might see them; I like going for walks but it can be difficult to get out into nature without a car (ironically) and sometimes I just solve number puzzles/do maths for fun.

Do you have any pets? Yes, this idiot (affectionate). Technically she lives with my parents, but still. Her name's Pepper and she's a generic black cat (it's hard to work out breeds of cats and she's an adopted former stray so there's no breeding history or whatever).

How tall are you? 1.72m

Favourite subject in school? It alternated between english literature and maths.

Dream job? Author/forest wizard/please don't make me enter the workforce (I'm a uni student atm)/I don't know what I want to do with my life.

@yourlocalcorvidcryptid @autisticfordprefect @feral-enfield-with-wifi sorry if any of y'all have already done this and I missed it.

#my posts #my life #tag game

[vetteldixon]

Road & Track’s September 2022 piece about Sebastian Vettel. Text below the cut!

‘A’ IS FOR AGITATOR.        SEBASTIAN VETTEL                  Story by Mike Guy                                    Photography by Cayce Clifford        

“WHAT IS AN ACTIVIST?” asks Sebastian Vettel. He’s scratching his scruffy face and grimacing, bristling at the accusation that he has become one. It’s hard to argue against it: Over the past couple of years, even as he’s struggled to find top-10 finishes with the Aston Martin Cognizant Formula One Team, Vettel has become the sport’s loudest voice on topics many racing fans won’t appreciate: civil rights, boycotting Russia, the plight of underprivileged children, the burdens placed on the Global South, and, most significantly, climate change, which he believes is linked to everything.

Certainly, Greta Thunberg is an activist, I propose.

“I don’t know,” he offers. “Is Greta an activist, or is she just a very concerned citizen of our planet?”

We’re sitting in Aston Martin F1’s paddock at the Hungaroring outside Budapest, a few days before the Hungarian Grand Prix. In the history of strange conversations with F1 champions, this is up there with an impromptu exchange I once had with Michael Schumacher in a Monaco alley, about the orange stitching on my brand-new pair of Adidas. (“How very flashy,” Schumacher said, smiling. “Can I buy a pair nearby?”) Except this conversation is deep, elemental. I knew a bit about Thunberg, the young Swedish firebrand who has become one of the world’s foremost advocates of climate-change awareness. But I didn’t anticipate that Vettel would know everything about her.

“Greta has Asperger’s syndrome,” Vettel says. “For her, what’s so confusing—and also so sad—is that I think she’s just very honest about what she feels.” He views it as related to her condition. “For her, our inaction on the climate crisis just doesn’t make sense, because it doesn’t make sense. And whereas everybody else is sort of numb to it—we have lives, we have things going on, we have other interests, and all of that—she is just being logical. ‘Why do I need an education when the world is going to be uninhabitable?’”

Strangely, Vettel’s take on Thunberg shows what made him such a special driver. He is absolutely ravenous for information. He is a rabbit-hole specialist. When he has a curiosity, he will not stop until he can see every side of it. The rabbit hole he can’t get out of right now, and that he can’t resolve, is climate change—which, when you think about it, is a terrible irony, given that he is a star figure in a global traveling circus centered  around burning fossil fuels to achieve speed and glory.

This is part of the continuing transformation of Sebastian Vettel. Over his career, he has appeared to fans in many forms: prodigy, brat, champion, jester, provocateur, outsider, mentor, scold, and, finally, agitator. When he gets on a roll talking about e-fuels and carbon credits, he is indistinguishable from crusty protesters marching across Washington Square and shouting doom.

“You look like a hippie to me,” I tell him. His long, stringy hair is just a few hours short of greasy. He’s pushing it out of his eyes as he talks, though careful not to push it too far. “I have a lot of hair, yes,” he says wistfully, then gestures to his receding hairline. “But in significant ways, I don’t have a lot of hair. It’s a privilege of aging.”

Just minutes before this conversation (one of many we would have), with no warning to just about anyone, Vettel announced his retirement. He told his Aston Martin F1 bosses, as well as his assistant, Britta Roeske, who, though not surprised, was a bit shocked that it happened on this day. He leans in and whispers to me, “Do you know I’ve just announced my retirement? Your timing is perfect.” While we are chatting, his retirement video—a stark, honest, and completely unvarnished appreciation of the sport as well as a call to action—is playing out like a grenade blast on his Instagram account.

He’s right; the timing is perfect to reconsider the life and times of a champion. Now 35, a happily married father of three, Vettel is at the end of his F1 career. At his peak, he was as untouchable as any driver in any era of any series. Love him or hate him, and there are millions who go both ways, he will go down in history among a class of drivers so elite, they have names like Schumacher, Hamilton, and Prost—and, arguably, no one else.

VETTEL CAME FROM a middle-class German suburb whose name doesn’t register unless you’re from there. His father, Norbert, was a carpenter and a kart-racing hobbyist, though he never pushed Vettel to be anything other than his own person.

“I didn’t understand at the time how lucky I was,” Vettel recalls. “I mean, compared to many other drivers, I am an exception. I had a normal childhood. I raced, and I was gone every weekend, but when I wasn’t gone, I was at home. I went to school, I finished school, I finished high school. I did karting, and I think I was as professional about it as a child can be. But the moment I got out of the go-kart, I was in the dirt, I was in the forest.”

Red Bull Racing talent scout Helmut Marko compares Vettel’s upbringing with Max Verstappen’s as a study in contrasts that led to similar results. Max’s father, F1 vet Jos Verstappen, was notoriously cruel to Max as a kid, forcing him to race in conditions that a 10-year-old should probably not have to endure. Vettel was allowed to come in out of the rain.

“What do we think makes someone more resilient?” Vettel wonders, as he ponders Max’s extremely promising career. “I didn’t get beaten up. But if you do get beaten up your whole life, does that work? Or does it work to be loved and explained the ways of how the world works? If you compare the two, who is more resilient? Is resilience fighting back—like somebody hits you, you hit back? Or is resilience strength in understanding what just happened, reflecting and taking things on from there?”

Though he’s making a rhetorical point about a racing driver, he’s much more interested in how resilience applies to his own life after retirement. “Being a father myself, obviously I have these challenges every day,” he says. “And if you say, okay, my children are allowed to talk back, well, then you also need to face the fact that they are talking back. So I think it is fascinating, because it’s so much of who we are later on and how we manage situations. And I’m not talking about how many races we might win. Our childhood is fundamental. So much can be done right, and so much can be done wrong.”

Vettel never expected to be an F1 driver. He was contemplating university after he got his high-school degree. It was the normal thing to do. “I finished my A levels and literally two weeks later got the phone call: You are our reserve driver; we need you at the race,” he says. “I was shocked.” He got a development seat with BMW and built his legacy, one turn at a time.

Now? He is not old. By the standards of Formula 1 set by guys like Kimi Räikkönen, who retired at age 42, and Michael Schumacher, who finished his last race when he was 43, Vettel could have another decade in F1 if he wants. Where the younger guys are even smaller, spindly from the shoulder down, conditioned to perfection, Vettel’s form is more functional, with burly forearms, a stout neck, and just a hint of padding over the six-pack. He doesn’t obsess over conditioning the way the younger guys do. He’s comfortable with his body.

You will never know where Vettel is on race weekends. He usually doesn’t stay in the fancy hotels with the other drivers. He prefers to rent a house far from the track, often accompanied by his family. He doesn’t have a business manager and negotiated his own contracts. He bridles against authority. More than most, he does things his own way.

There was no particular moment when Vettel decided to care about the climate crisis or even use the word “crisis.” But it formed in the midst of his career, race by race.

“I think I’ve always seen things,” he says. “I remember in Malaysia, where, the year before when we raced there, there was forest, and the year after, we went past and it was all palm trees…. For sure, I look back at some things now, and I wonder, why did I not maybe put one and one together earlier? Or why did I do certain things like flying around the world, like using private jets? This is stuff you have to decide for yourself now.”

Vettel will talk about almost anything. He doesn’t keep secrets, refuses to conceal his beliefs, and is openly emotional—much more than you’d expect from a German man, at least. Though he is beholden to a patchwork of sponsors that pay him and Aston Martin millions of dollars, there is no effort to protect them from his opinions. Boy, does he have opinions. And he always backs them up with facts.

FOR MUCH OF HIS F1 CAREER, the Vettel haters around the world were legion. They hated him because he drove for Red Bull, which, when it arrived on the scene, was considered a clownish host of parties in the adventure-sports world. How could they possibly compete on the same level as Ferrari or McLaren? For the naysayers, Vettel became the evil posterboy, one of Dr. Marko’s creations.

Then Vettel beat Ferrari and McLaren. It was the car, not the driver, the haters said. Like every racer on a winning streak, he complained a lot and was accused of being unsportsmanlike (everyone remembers the Multi 21 scandal with always-a-bridesmaid teammate Mark Webber).

But what makes a great racing driver? This conversation’s as old as the chariot races at Circus Maximus. Is it the number of wins? Championships? Podiums? By those measurements, Vettel has few peers. He has four World Championships, tied with Alain Prost and bested only by Michael Schumacher and Lewis Hamilton (and, from the pre-F1 grand prix era, Juan Manuel Fangio).

From a championships perspective, there are 30 lesser drivers who will remain far beneath him on the list of greats: Senna, Lauda, Clark, Alonso, Villeneuve, and on and on. (The jury is still out on Verstappen, who possesses apparently limitless ability, though his only championship came from a deeply flawed decision by a racing director who was shown the door shortly afterward.)

           “There are more important things. Eventually, I’ll find my way to those.”                        —Sebastian Vettel          

Vettel was at Red Bull for just six years, during which he won his championships—serious ROI for Dr. Marko, who plucked Vettel from a choir of F1 contenders young and old. Before his 150th F1 start, Vettel earned 41 wins, 73 podiums, 45 pole positions, and those four titles—stunning stats that cast a shadow over his contemporaries (in the same first 149, Lewis Hamilton, with 34 wins and two championships, comes closest; Alonso and Verstappen lag far behind). Beyond the raw stats, extraordinary work ethic, and preternatural talent, the greatest drivers integrate an uncommon set of qualities: aptitude, intuition, the most cohesive team, the deepest-pocketed sponsors, the canniest team principals. It’s a sort of witchcraft with a whiff of luck.

Championships are not “just the car,” but great cars can get you close. During his four-year title run, Vettel had the benefit of driving Adrian Newey’s aerodynamic masterpieces, the RB6, RB7, RB8, and RB9, which, among other prestidigitations, deployed a blown diffuser that the competition never countered. And yet, perhaps only a professional driver can fathom the level of unrelenting focus required to maintain that level of mastery against Lewis, Fernando, Kimi, Webber, et al. Not just anyone can sit in the fastest car and win four consecutive championships.

Consider how Vettel earned the Red Bull seat in the first place. When he showed an abnormal skill in karting, his father began budgeting closely, saving here and there to fund a modest campaign. After a development gig at BMW, Vettel worked his way into a seat at Toro Rosso, a Red Bull junior team in F1 that used the previous year’s chassis with a Ferrari engine instead of the more dominant Renault mill. At the 2008 Italian Grand Prix, in the little Toro Rosso, Vettel won from pole on a grid that included a dominant McLaren/Hamilton combination and two Ferraris that filled the front of the field. Vettel’s performance was career defining, and it secured his seat at Red Bull.

Once there, Vettel locked eyes with the engineers. He talked through the car’s every component, its every weakness and nuance. He probably knew as much about Newey’s wondrous cars as his engineers. So Vettel won over the team and quickly became its natural focus. Vettel’s team-mate, Mark Webber, one of the most talented wheelmen in the world, didn’t stand a chance. The same curiosity that led Vettel to discover how a disappearing forest in Malaysia is a bad sign for the climate, or how Greta Thunberg’s Asperger’s syndrome is a sign of her honest commitment to the cause, led him to become a virtuoso in a strong car.

The rest is history: In 2010, Sebastian Vettel became the youngest driver to win an F1 World Championship, at age 23 and 133 days.

Today, as a very long retirement looms over the rest of the races this season, he has no idea what he’ll do next. But what motivates him is that the fate of the planet looms over the horizon.

“I have three children and a wife I love very much,” he says. “I’m going to be very busy. Everything you think you might be doing or want to do, I don’t know if it’s going to be satisfying. Because I don’t know any different than this. But I do think there are more important things. Eventually, I’ll find my way to those.”

#sebastian vettel #f1 #road & track

[intersectionalpraxis]

The idea behind a boycott truly seems lost on some. Percy Jackson and the Olympians was watched 13.3 million times since it's release, what, a couple days ago? It's on Disney+ aka the Pressure list on BDS, the author wrote a stupid blog post after 10/7 saying there are "two sides" to the issue, and many people who worked on the show are Zionists. What happened to the good ol' days of pirating? It's all Free Palestine until a show you want drops, huh? And from an author who has never written Arab/Muslim characters well.

I was reading a post on X recently about how someone had to tell her friends to boycott Starbucks because they didn't know it was one of the major companies that so many creators decided to start with because they were the most direct and influential (alongside McD's and Disney). Her friends were happy to do so, it's just they were 'unaware.'

This person also argued that unless you're "chronically online," you wouldn't know about what is happening, and depending on the media you are consuming (especially if it's mainstream western sources because we know they weave a VERY and vastly different story about what is happening in Palestine). I can understand a fraction of what she is saying, while at the same time I think this automatically reveals the willful ignorance that permeates our societies. How so many people can 'turn off,' and not engage or at least not know about what is going on across the globe based on many factors (which includes their governments and censorship -like in Canada it's hard to access videos on the ground in Palestine on Instagram unless you see it on X or Facebook or use a VPN, otherwise we/I can't access Eyes on Palestine on Instagram), is all very confounding to me. Because even without being 'online,' I do believe it's our responsibility to know, at bare minimum, what is happening.

I think at the crux of this (and these are just my opinions of course) is that many people in the global north, firstly, don't want to unpack their complicity in imperialistic and colonialist structures of violence in the global south because of their degree of consumerism (how the systems set up -and how so much of how we live depends on the mass hyper-exploitation of people 'elsewhere' where 'we don't have to see.'). So that in itself is something I think of when I see that there are people who either refuse to boycott big tech or industries that align or support genocidal regimes and powers, extensively so -because that would mean getting uncomfortable, being reflexive, demanding changes from these despicable companies (like refusing to buy from them until the are ethical and sustainable beyond paper), and overall changing your habits. And I don't mean shaming working class/poor people to stop shopping at major conglomerates to buy their groceries because that's not fair -not everyone can afford to buy local and go to farmer's markets. I'm talking about the excessive aspects of capitalism. Or watching/viewing content from places like Disney because they have the privilege to 'look away.'

We all know that if no one consumed a damn thing from these companies, that they'd change their tune very quickly, and it's just frustrating and beyond tragic to see Disney thrive despite how evil that corporation is, and only recently became 'inclusive,' but even so there's many stories and voices they leave out, or don't do justice. I hear you. I know what you mean, and seeing it is disappointing. Because even if you wanted to see those fucking films or series -yes there are OTHER means, but the fact that people will pay to see it and subscribe to it is just frustrating.

As always, boycott Disney.

#feminist #feminism #social justice #free palestine #freepalastine🇵🇸 #palestine #free gaza #boycotting #boycott disney #boycott mcdonalds #boycott israel #bds movement #boycott divest sanction #boycott starbucks #western imperialism #us imperialism

[moonlitswimmingpooltv]

ask me my "TOP 5" anything!

your top 5 sea creatures! <3

ANON I LOVE YOU YOU ARE MY FAVOURITE PERSON MWAH MWAH MWAH

also just a side note, i did my top five favourite sea creatures found along and around the south african (and occasionally australian) coastline because that’s where i’m from and picking from the entire ocean would be way too hard

1. Four-tone nudibranch ( Godiva quadricolor )

a nudibranch (kind of sea slug) which feeds on anemones and other nudibranchs. i will admit, it’s on here simply because it’s pretty, i don’t have any fun facts about this one. but it’s okay, because i enjoy looking at it and sometimes that’s all that matters!!

here’s a photo:

2. green sawfish ( Pristis zijsron )

characterised by its saw-like snout with between 23-34 pairs of teeth, which it uses to dig up crustaceans and molluscs or to strike fish. it is the largest species of sawfish, reaching up to 7.3 m in length, with its snout accounting for almost one third of its size. it plays an important mythological, spiritual, and cultural role in many societies around the world (here’s an article about it ). they are critically endangered globally, but can still be found along the australian and south african coastlines

photo:

3. honeycomb moray eel ( Gymnothorax favagineus )

i love eels because they’re such shady looking dudes, we know next to nothing about how they reproduce (but it’s highly likely that they’re poly which is so cool), and because most people don’t like them and i think they deserve some more love. i like this one in particular because they have very prominent canines, they live in caves and holes in coral reefs (same) (also this technically applies to all moray eels but with this one is very important ig) , and they can seriously fuck you up if threatened ( see prominent canines mentioned above ). they’re nocturnal (same!!) and they feed on small fish and octopuses. they’re solitary animals, and very territorial, and fights between these long boys are something to behold. they also have a habit of rearranging the rocks in their aquarium exhibits (my friend who works at the aquarium can confirm), and they are the second largest of all moray species!! also they look really funky

photo:

4. flower urchin ( Toxopneustes pileolus )

she’s big. she’s pink. she should not be touched with bare hands. she’s everything i want in a woman. but, all jokes aside, this sea urchin has very large pedicellaria (pointy pokey stuff) equipped with potentially lethal poison glands and you shouldn’t touch it without gloves. it could literally kill you. that being said, it’s a tropical reef species, so it often carries seaweed or shells to shield itself from the sun which is probably the most adorable thing ever (this is common in most sea urchins, it’s so cute go google it). obviously taylor was onto something when she listed sea urchins as one of her top fears in that one ellen interview

here’s a photo:

5. st. joseph shark ( Callorhinchus capenis )

this shark is so ugly, which is part of the reason i chose it. their bodies are soft, their heads are big, and they only have a single gill slit on each side. poor dudes. they also have very long noses which they (obviously) use to detect their prey. they also have a venomous spine protruding from their dorsal fin that is used for self defence. they are known as “real life chimaeras” . in case you don’t know, in greek mythology, chimaeras consisted of the parts of a bunch of different animals. st joseph sharks have a combination of traits commonly associated with sharks, and traits commonly associated with bony, ray-finned fish (sharks have cartilage, not bones, so yes there is a difference), hence the chimaera comparison. i could list a bunch of differences and similarities between these sharks and the fish mentioned above but that could take a while. they are sometimes referred to as ghost sharks, ratfish, spookfish, or rabbitfish. i just think they’re so neat!!!

feast your eyes:

and that’s that!! this was so difficult, i had to eliminate like twenty critters from the original list, but there’s one that i think deserves an honourable mention, and that’s this guy:

look at his little face, i love him.

#sorry this took so long tumblr glitched the first time and i couldn’t make up my mind about which five to pick #hope you enjoy anon!! because i definitely enjoyed making this #sorry if it’s a bit long i just love them #also please let me know if there are any typos it’s late and i’m tired #asks #long post

[sidheboggle]

Your ignorance and hatred astounds and overwhelms.

I'm not sure what this is about? Is it about this post or?

I don't hate my creative peers (I have a lot to say on my experiences with them though), but I've just accepted that we all write differently because our lives are different. Most artisans that can dedicate loads and loads of time to their work are usually not poor people that are forced to see their gender, race, sexuality, you name it, as something more than the metaphor they choose to communicate their marginalization or alienation with.

More under the cut.

To me, simply slapping transformation powers on a trans character isn't enough, especially if they aren't using said magic for gender affirming care or using this magic to explore how our bodies are like putty that adapts to what we need and want, or lack thereof. To me, gay/sapphic knights isn't empowering or interesting to me, especially if it isn't exploring the fact that queer relationships are meant to and should subvert the expectations heterosexual people put on the other gender (which the romantic ideal of knighthood plays into).

Of course it isn't wrong to enjoy a story that has these tropes in it, I liked Nimona (genderfluid shapeshifter struggling with suicidal ideation), I liked WolfWalkers (women being constricted by social rules but breaking free from that by becoming spirit walking druids), I like cheesy art of knights in love and saving people and doing cool things-I'm also a fan of folkloric stories, which tend to not be progressive marvels all the time, especially when religion gets involved.

But I think it's fair to say that when you've been demonized horribly for being queer or a certain ethnicity or race in a specific way, your itch to make art evolves past "I feel like a monster, let me explore this with queer werewolves that work office jobs by day and run in the forest at night" to "I feel like a monster and I know exactly why I do after looking at my life and the systemic ways I've been abused/abused others/set up to not get my needs met/have been alienated by my peers-and I'm going to use this metaphor to further inform/enhance the character's predicaments, not to replace them outright."

I think the little I've seen of Utena (still working on it) is a good example of what i mean here. Using fairytale motifs and meta and ideas to not replace critique of misogyny, but to explore the power of REAL connection over fake roles we put on each other romantically and friendship wise, to explore misogyny further, to ask how this cycle can be broken etc etc.

And this wasn't even a scathing post about Somerton if that's what you're on about. I find his plagiarism to be a dumb move and a symptom of not having the realities of the writers he stole from to actually be creative in his video essays as he watches (which it's been layer revealed he didn't even watch some of the things he was reviewing, like BBC's Merlin) these movies and shows.

This isn't a white cis gay dude hate post, this is me saying not all queer people have lives where we understand or are forced to understand our identities in a way that allows us to say something meaningful about them, and this shows in some of the media I see among my peers-and while this stereotype is usually attributed to whoever is the night's biggest culture war loser in the eyes of their peers (bisexual women often, especially if they're cis or slightly cringy) no queer person is immune to just not having the chops to articulate how they see themselves in media beyond metaphors or stealing someone else's words outright.

This isn't a crime against humanity or media literacy or whatever else-I too have topics that I can't articulate well because I haven't lived it, so I nab a quote or two and attempt to save it for when I need a reference (for example, text on the global south, esp LatAm). All I'm saying is, when it comes to my peers, I have a hard time making community and discussing my own work because the way I write, in my opinion, goes beyond the queer shaman or the queer knight, and instead leans into specific bigotries that won't be replaced by the monsters I choose to use to communicate my fascination with how abuse operates, how it's enabled by every social technology we believe in and stand by, how the smallest of things can lead to unmet needs, abuse, and a refusal to see one as capable of love and fear and hatred and compassion like any other living thing...being a monster or knight or whatever else on top of being queer or black or hispanic or a woman and that being shown explicitly alongside the monster/role the character is in is more intriguing than what I think many artists on the web go for.

#asks #oof??? off to a rough start wtf #I mean if this is about my last blog too I stand by a lot of what I said #I don't think I'm bigoted in any way for being critical of how queer communities operate or for sharing my own traumas within them #I could've been more articulate but I think I needed that space. to just say what I needed to and get it out

[newluddite]

Required Learning.

I have a professional certification and must therefore participate in continuing education. Part of that is mandated subjects and stuff.

Yesterday I had to do an online course for 3 hours about First Nations Reconciliation. I am still processing it. Canada has been very shitty to those people historically.

Language is a living evolving thing and becomes what people use most. I find using some terms strange. For example "learnings" as in "these are the learnings from this section." Hell my spellcheck just flagged those words as wrong. See it is not just me. Similarly I was a "learner" in this process. It is almost like the usage from the Star Wars movies has become mainstream. I think it is clumsy. There are other words too, but those stuck.

As I said I am still processing it. Some things I find ironic. For example people in this course are categorized as one of four things. You are First Nations, or Metis, or Inuit or a Settler. They consider me a settler. The issue being addressed is racism, but breaking people into groups and assigning characteristics by their heritage is inherently racist is it not?

I object to the term settler. On my mothers side I have at least ten generations born on this continent. On my father's side he was born in Northern Alberta on a Homestead. His parents were certainly settlers. Does what happened generations ago somehow stain me and continue to stain my descendants? There was certainly negativity in the presentation.

From physical appearance and common names many First Nations people have some European heritage too. Blue eyes and facial features betray something there.

Metis are the descendants of French fur trappers and first nations women. In terms of DNA are they not also Settlers? They certainly have First Nations DNA, but also European. Arguably mostly European. As I said I am still processing this. I have questions, but the answers depend on the perspective.

I understand the term Indian is basically offensive to First Nations and do not argue the point. It is confusing in British Columbia as there are many many people actually from India here. You do not call them Indians though they are as they do not want to be lumped in with those others. I know this as my son-in-law is the son of Indians from India. We twist words to call them South Asians, though south Asia is a very big area that is far more than the Indian subcontinent. Thailand, Cambodia, Vietnam, Malaysia, Indonesia and PPNG are all in the South of Asia.

History is full of humans being shitty and cruel ranging from Genocides to slavery and relatively simple oppression. Actually on a Global scale the places that are nice are very few. Even the nice places have a stain. The USA had slavery up until 1869. Canada had it until 1793. Europe colonized most of the rest of the world and that has left scars. It was not because Europeans were better, but because they were good at war having perfected it on each other. Guns, Germs, and Steel. (good book that)

When I was a child the TV had many many stories about blacks in the US fighting for the right to vote, and to have full access to education and facilities. Weirdly that fight continues until now.

So many things to apologize for.

I suppose that the best we can say is that we are trying to work it out.

There was a lot in that course I have a lot of thinking to do.

#truth and reconciliation #First Nations #Indians #racism

[gumnut-logic]

Census

After my little hissy fit last night about not being able to write, I spent all day today doing exactly that. 5000 words later and we have this rambling fic. I had to fill in our Census today, so I figured the Tracys could too. It went places I did not expect.

There are a couple of anachronisms in this fic. It is based in 2060 for census reasons, but I mention at least two characters interacting with the Tracys from later seasons. Please ignore and enjoy anyway :D

There are also a couple of vague references to ship, but no real ship, I promise.

Thank you in particular to @katblu42​ and @willow-salix​  and the other members of Thunderfam who kindly checked on on me last night while I was bemoaning my inability to write. Sorry if I was exasperating. I have a degree in that. If it helps, no one gets more annoyed with me than I do ::hugs you lots::

Rambly, mostly brotherly conversations and doesn’t really go anywhere, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.

-o-o-o-

How Gordon got there first was no mystery. Virgil was just too damned tired after three rescues in a row and Scott had been tied up with Tracy Industries for most of the day. Grandma could possibly have been on it if she hadn’t been filling in for John who had broken out his exo-suit to yank a couple of free floaters out of the sky.

He was still muttering about idiots and safety. His mood was not improved by the fact Grandma insisted he come down for the night so he could be counted.

Consequently, his muttering also included cursing bureaucracy even though Virgil knew census night was a favourite of the astronaut.

Perhaps Gordon got to the form first because he knew everyone else was tired and grumpy and needed a kick in the pants. Virgil had to admit with a fond thought that his little brother was prone to throwing joke bombs amongst them when the mood was through the floor.

Virgil had no issues wondering why Alan wasn’t the one poking at the form. Their resident teenager wasn’t interested at all.

“Okay, guys. What is our address? What did we put last time?”

Alan didn’t even look up from his game. “Tracy Island.”

Gordon, who was sitting at Dad’s desk, staring at the holographic form, hesitated. “Did Dad register that with the powers that be?”

“What?” Alan really wasn’t paying any attention at all.

Virgil sighed. He was sitting on the couch with one of his uniform boots on his lap attempting to pick out several penetrating objects out of the sole. His last rescue had been a collapsed factory and he was still trying to work out what exactly it was that they made that could penetrate his specialist footwear.

Fortunately, despite multiple incursions, he only had a scratch on his left foot, more an annoyance than anything, but these objects were frustrating and suspicious.

“Dad did all the right things. Tracy Island is the official name now.” The pliers weren’t quite gripping the piece of metal properly. The grip slipped and Virgil swore.

“Now? What was it called before?”

“Deserter’s Rock.” Scott strode in from the kitchen, a coffee in hand, and grimace on his face. His usually perfect hair was scruffy, as if he had been running his hands through it.

Virgil frowned up at him. “You okay?”

His brother took the steps down into the lounge and sighed. “Nothing a holiday won’t fix.” It was Scott’s turn to frown. “What’s with the boot?”

“Deserter’s Rock? Really?”

It was John who answered, very much like Alan, staring into his tablet and barely paying attention. “Really. Three sailors were stuck here for months. Only one survived. That’s why there is a cairn on Tracy Peak.”

“I thought that was a pile of rocks put there by Dad.” Gordon seemed genuinely surprised. “You mean there are two dead guys on the Island?”

“Along with their ghosts, yeah.” John still didn’t look up.

“Ghosts?” Alan did look up at that, eyes wide. “What ghosts?”

“The one’s who keep stealing my Bailey’s ice cream.”

“Oh.” Alan went back to playing his game, his eyes definitely not darting between John and Gordon at all.

“Okay, moving on…so where do I put ‘Tracy Island’ in this thing? It’s not a suburb, state or territory…do we have a postcode?”

“It’s a locality. Shove it in there.” Virgil grit his teeth and yanked hard at the piece of metal embedded in his boot. A grunt and a flex of heavy lifting muscles and…it didn’t move at all. What the hell?

“Okay, whatever.” Gordon half sung ‘Tracy Island, Kermadec Ridge, South Pacific Ocean’ to himself as he entered it into the form. At least he was being specific. Virgil glared at his boot.

“Next. Who gets to be head of household? Oh, the Householder?” A pause in which Virgil poked at his boot, Scott sipped his coffee with closed eyes, Alan killed three zombies with a grin and John sat motionless still staring at his tablet.

“Okay, then. It’s me.” Gordon grinned to himself.

Nobody looked up, but all four other brothers said simultaneously and in chorus. “It’s Grandma.”

Virgil flexed his hand and picked up his pliers again. Peripherally, he watched Gordon’s shoulders drop. Even the Fish couldn’t argue with that.

“Fine. It’s Grandma.” He reached up and touched the box to open that section of the form. “Where is she anyway?”

Virgil tried to get a better grip on another chunk of metal in his boot. “Yoga. Don’t disturb her.” Yoga was Grandma’s mindfulness time and after today, it was well overdue. “Leave her be.”

“I wasn’t going to. Sheesh. So, name. Sally Tracy.” He typed in her name. “Person two?”

“Scott Tracy.” Okay, so Virgil had a bit of a thing about this. His brother deserved acknowledgement for everything he had done.

Gordon glared at him. “And so I guess the rest of us are in age order?”

Virgil flipped his boot over. “Whatever floats your boat, fishboy.” A glance in Scott’s direction and he had to wonder if his brother had fallen asleep, he was that still. The coffee mug in his hand was the only proof of consciousness.

Virgil fought the urge to save it. “Scott, you wanna go to bed?”

“Wha-?” His brother sat up. “I’m fine.” Fortunately, he put the coffee mug down. The chances of Virgil having to treat burns tonight dropped significantly.

“How do you spell ‘Hackenbacker’?”

Virgil did not grace that with an answer as it was obviously a stupid question.

John was apparently on auto as he spouted off the required letters anyway while still staring at his tablet.

Gordon poked at the form in silence for a little while and Virgil wondered what on Earth he was entering. He trusted his brother. This was an official document, after all, but he was still Gordon.

“Okay, guys, I need your information.”

Beside Virgil, Scott ‘woke up’. “What, no questions about Grandma?”

Gordon frowned at his eldest brother. “I’ll have you know that I know our grandmother very well. We have a special kind of relationship.”

Alan snorted.

“What? You got something to say, sprout?” The fish glared at Alan enough to torch him on the spot.

“I’m just saying that after that time with Grandma’s diver’s license, you should know Grandma’s details very well. Her birthdate, her ancestry, her suit measurements…”

A starfish plushie suddenly had a very short career as a ninja star and bounced off Alan’s head. “Shut up, Alan.”

Their little brother only giggled more.

John, still staring at his tablet, raised an eyebrow. “Allie, Grandma baked some cookies yesterday. I think there are still some in the cupboard. Would you like some?”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” Alan threw the plushie at his fish brother, missing completely, and went back to playing his game. There was muttering about Gordon making jokes but Alan not being allowed to.

Virgil sighed to himself.

“Scotty, what’s your age? It’s 2060 for reference. Oh, and your gender.”

All signs of sleep fell away and Scott sat up. “Gordon…” It was all warning.

“Hey, I’m just giving you the opportunity to offer an alternative. After all, tonight you look at least fifty-six.”

“I’m thirty-one and you know it.”

Gordon poked at the form. “Thirty-one years young. Got it.”

Scott grunted at him.

“Virg, are we telling the truth this time?”

“Depends on whether you want me to leave you in the ocean next time.” Why the hell couldn’t he get this out of his boot?

“To threat level already, you are grumpy tonight.”

“Gordon…” Virgil echoed Scott from earlier to the note.

“Johnny?”

“No one named ‘Johnny’ lives here.”

Gordon signed. “John Glenn Tracy, how would you like me to record your age?”

“Accurately.”

“Fine.”

“If I say I’m thirty-two, do I get to go higher up on the form?” Alan looked hopeful.

“If you like.” Gordon moved things around on the display.

Virgil gave up. The locality of Tracy Island was destined to be a statistical anomaly anyway. At least it would be an interesting one.

Besides, John would probably hack it later and fix it. The fact he had hardly protested so far was eminent proof of that security factor.

“Scotty, are you the husband or wife of Grandma?”

Scott rubbed his face and didn’t bother to answer, picking up his coffee again and burying his face in it.

Virgil just wished he would go to bed. The man was a zombie.

Gordon took the hint and was quiet for a little while. Virgil went back to tugging on his boot. Maybe he should take this down to his workshop.

The thought of actually working more had his shoulders slumping enough to alert Scott. The concerned and questioning look shot in his direction had Virgil sitting up a little straighter to fend it off.

“John, where should we put your usual place of residence?”

“Here.”

“But you live in space.”

“So do you.”

“Pedantic much?”

“As necessary. Tracy Island is home. Thunderbird Five is merely in our astronomical backyard, not to mention secret.”

Virgil looked up at that. It was a simple statement, but it was good to hear that John still considered Tracy Island home despite his multiple protests over the years.

“Fine. Secret space station wasn’t an option anyway. I could flub it and use Global One but then that would spark all those rumours about you and that captain all over again.”

“Gordon, I can hack your bank accounts.”

“Go for it.”

“I can also hack your fish tanks.”

The aquanaut shot to his feet. “You touch my tanks and you’re dead, spacehead.”

John didn’t react other than to smile just a little.

Their space brother could be a right royal ass when he wanted to be. Virgil sighed. “John, you know the rules.”

He shrugged. “Didn’t break any.”

“You touch my tanks, I’m spicing up your atmosphere on Five. I’m not kidding. I have fart gas resources even you can’t find.” Gordon was still on his feet and actually appeared angry.

John shuddered. “TMI, Gordo. Not interested in your gas capacity, honestly.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Calm down, Gords, John’s not doing anything to your fish tanks. He knows the rules, don’t you, John.” He arched a prompting eyebrow at his brother.

“Never said I didn’t.”

Definitely an ass.

“Gordon, calm down. You can put John’s relationship to you in as ‘nemesis’ if it makes you feel better.”

“I can only put in our relationship to Grandma. I wrote favourite grandson in yours.”

It was Virgil’s turn to shrug. “I’m not going to complain. Sit down and finish the form.”

His brother didn’t answer, but he did sit down, albeit still glaring at John.

John had gone back to his tablet, doing who knew the hell what.

Definitely an ass.

Virgil turned back to Gordon. “What’s the next question, Gords?”

The glare switched to Virgil for a second before turning to the form. “Where were we born?”

“Kansas.”

“I know that. What about Grandma, Brains and Kayo?”

“Space.” Alan said it with triumph.

“What?”

“Where John lives. Isn’t that what the question was?” Alan stared between his brothers.

“Go back to sleep, Alan.”

“Grandma was born in Kansas, Brains was born in India, and Kayo was born here.” Scott proved he was still awake by suddenly providing information enough to make Virgil jump.

Gordon poked at the form, but nothing further was said on that front. Everyone knew Kayo was sensitive about her past, and while she wasn’t in the room, she would find out and partially kill anyone responsible.

“Kayo is here tonight, isn’t she?”

Virgil yanked on his boot again, slipped and managed to elbow Scott in the ribs. His brother grunted.

“Oh, shit, sorry. You okay?” He shoved the boot aside and the pliers along with it.

Scott eyed him and rubbed his side. “That answers your question, Gordon. Kayo is on a conference call with Captain Rigby.”

Virgil glared at Scott.

Gordon eyed the both of them. “Is there something you two aren’t telling the class?”

“Shut up, Gordon.” Virgil glared at Scott a moment longer, enough to have his brother’s expression fall into one of concern. Grabbing his boot again, Virgil went back to wrestling with embedded metal. Damned specialised rubber was amazing when it protected him but when its tolerances were overrun, it was a pain to fix. Maybe he should ask Max to give it a yank. “What entertaining religion are you using this time, Gords?” Any attempt to get the conversation off this topic.

Gordon stared at him a moment, obviously still trying to work out what the hell happened there.

Scott was dead later; Virgil was going to make sure of it. Tired or not, he had crossed a line.

A sideways look in his eldest brother’s direction and it was obvious Scott realised that. Okay, maybe he could let it go. It had been a long day and they were all tired.

Probably should go to bed.

He went back to fighting with his boot.

Gordon was still staring but even the fish knew when to shut up apparently, because the next words out of his mouth were entirely religious.

“I’m worshiping Neptune this year.”

Alan frowned. “I thought you said that last time.”

“Dad wouldn’t let me.”

That brought the whole room to a standstill. Last census was ten years ago. Flashback to that time brought everything that had changed into the bright glaring light. The biggest change being Dad’s absence. But even more, ten years ago they were still based in Kansas, IR was in development, but not yet a reality. Alan was only six, Gords eleven and with his body still intact…it was a completely different time. Virgil was still in college and had to fill in his own census form in Denver.

Gordon broke the looming silence with a determined smile. “This time the government gets the truth. Scott bows to the sky gods, Virg worships molemen, Johnny is a god, and Alan is Satan.

“Hey!” It was said by multiple brothers at once.

Only John remained calm. He even had a smile. “In that case, I want bagels every Sunday.”

“You get bagels every Sunday. Virg sends them up all the time.” Alan glared at his space brother – Alan did not like bagels.

John grinned wider. “I’ll take that as proof that I have at least one faithful worshipper.”

“Next time you can get your own bagels.” Virgil glared at his brother.

Gordon snorted. “Yeah, right, you old softie. John could blow up Two and you’d still send him his bagels.”

Virgil found himself glaring at Gordon again. It seemed to be a theme tonight. “Short pier, long walk, Gordon, go for it.”

He got a smirk for that. “Don’t mind if I do. A little night diving is quite spectacular around here.”

Virgil ignored him and went back to his boot…which he had made zero progress on for all the time he had been sitting here, damnit.

“Does Virgil ever ‘need someone to help with or be with him for self-care, body movement, or communication activities’?” Gordon typed into the form. “Before coffee.”

Virgil ignored him some more as Alan took the bait and snickered. “Better watch it, Gords. Won’t be long before ‘before coffee’ time kicks in. Look at him, he’s already brewing.”

The piece of metal in his boot finally shifted a little. Thank goodness.

“Long term health conditions.” Gordon slumped in his seat. “Well, isn’t this cheerful.”

“Just fill it in, Gordon.” Scott’s words were little more than a sigh.

That left a gaping silence. Gordon tapped a lot at the keyboard filling in far too much. More for himself, obviously, but then there was John and his space issues, and they all had been diagnosed with something on the list hanging above their father’s desk.

Except Alan, who could not be left out. Virgil pretended to not be able to read the word ‘zombification’ next to his little brother’s name.

“Schooling? Oh man, John, you can write all the letters after your name. I can never remember them all.”

“Not a problem.” The astronaut poked at his tablet and the hologram in front of Gordon sprouted half the alphabet.

“Really? Did you get a new one?” He stared at John. “When did you get time for that?”

John shrugged. “Made time.”

“What’s this one for?”

“Oceanography.”

“What?”

“You were in the ocean. I didn’t know enough to help. So I fixed the problem.”

Gordon just stared.

Virgil, of course, knew. He had been the one to field John’s version of panic the day he didn’t know enough to help Gordon. John was practical. He saw a problem, he fixed it. Oceanography wasn’t an obvious topic for the starman, but he was a genius and that genius could be applied where he wished it to be.

If Virgil had found himself helping John at a few points that intersected with his specialities along the way, he was just going to take a little comfort from being able to return the favour after years of borrowing his brother’s brains for other topics.

And besides, it had meant he had been able to spend a little extra time with John. Always a good thing.

Despite him being the occasional ass.

Gordon was still staring. “Is that why you bugged me to take you out in Four?”

John shrugged. “Partly. Didn’t mind spending a bit of time with you either. Good experience to familiarise myself with Four as well.”

The stare continued.

“Be careful you don’t catch any flies with your mouth open.”

The stare became a glare. “We’re talking about this. You and me.”

“Sure.”

Gordon looked like he didn’t know whether to yell at him or run over and hug his brother. Virgil was voting for the latter.

But everything was interrupted by a sudden snore and snort.

Virgil turned to Scott and found his brother startled awake, likely by his own snore.

“Wha-?”

“Scott, you need to go to bed.”

“I’m fine.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Do I need to pick you up and carry you?”

“I’m fine.” He waved Virgil away, sat up straighter and attempted to guzzle whatever was left of his probably cold coffee.

“Idiot.”

“What?”

“Go to bed.”

“No. We need to finish the census.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Because why?”

“Because I want to.”

“Why?”

“Can you stop that?”

“Can you go to bed?”

“No!”

“You need sleep.”

“I can manage my own health, thank you, Doctor Virgil.” He folded his arms across his chest. “I am an adult.”

“Sometimes.”

“Virgil!”

Gordon let off a loud snort. “That’s it. I’m putting you two in as married.”

“Gordon!” Both of them, in chorus. It was apparently a theme tonight.

“Well, you both argue like an old married couple, what can I do?”

“You can shut up and move onto the next question.”

Gordon poked his tongue out at Scott, but he didn’t stop grinning and Virgil was forced to hold back a smile himself.

Bratty little fish.

He was still smirking when he said, “Employment.”

“Oh god.” Scott sank back onto the couch and rubbed his face with his hands.

There followed a book’s worth of employment activities.

“Rocket surfing is not an occupation, Gordon.” Virgil sighed.

“Why not? Both Scott and Allie surf rockets.”

“Alan rides a rocket sled and Scott is just trying to give me grey hair.”

“Has he succeeded yet?” Bratty fish.

“None of your business.”

“So is International Rescue paid or unpaid work?” Gordon was frowning at the form.

“Unpaid.”  Scott’s tone was sharp.

“So are we unemployed, employed or self-employed?”

“Self-employed.”

“How much do you earn a year, Scotty?”

Their eldest brother paused as if calculating, but then threw up a hand. “Stuffed if I know.”

John snorted and rattled off a number.

“There isn’t enough space for that many zeros here, John.”

“Give me a moment.”

The display in front of Gordon flickered and each of their names received a variety of numbers…except for Alan.

“Hey, how come I don’t have any earnings?”

“You are a minor.” John spoke calmly, as if speaking to a minor.

“But I do stuff for Tracy Industries, I do.”

“All your income is held in trust, you know that.”

“Then who is paying for all that popcorn I bought this morning?”

Scott sighed. “Don’t worry, you’re not going to bust the bank.”

“We own the bank.”

Scott stared at John. “When did we buy a bank?”

“I bought it for your birthday last year but forgot to give it to you.”

“Oh.”

“I’m writing obscenely rich next to all our names. Oh, except for you, Allie. You’re a pauper.”

“Hey! You suck, Fishbrain.”

“Remember who might need to lend you money in the next couple of years…”

“While Gordon remembers who lent him money in the past, who still helps him with his finances, and who also is the one to fish him out of the ocean after every mission.” Virgil pinned Gordon with his eyes.

Gordon blinked. “You have a point.” A pause as a smile crept over his face. “Who was that again?”

The hologram of the census form wobbled as a lounge cushion flew through it and hit Gordon squarely in the face.

“Right on target. Hmm, I’ve still got it.” Scott blew imaginary smoke off a finger gun.

Unfortunately, Scott may have still had it, but he wasn’t the best marksman on this census form. The cushion rebounded via aquanaut and hit Scott squarely in the face with an oomph.

This forced both Virgil and Alan to come to his defence and for a full ten minutes after that, it was an all-out pillow fight between the brothers. Even John was drawn in as Gordon came up behind him and tried to stuff one down the back of his shirt.

Which wasn’t advisable since his gravity support was still in play. But then John was king of the noogie and immediately grabbed a head full of strawberry blond hair, dragged it down onto the couch beside him and made sure it received the full-on noogie treatment.

Gordon did squawk quite a bit.

An extreme one-on-one joust erupted between Scott and Alan. It was that determined that Virgil had to back out. Alan, being the terrier he was, managed to get Scott on his back on the lounge and sat on him pummelling him with pillows.

Virgil had suspicions that the game was rigged.

In any case, he had to find somewhere else to sit and tinker with his boot.

Eventually, Gordon found his way back to the census form. Scott was still on his back and apparently Alan had decided he preferred that his big brother stay that way by sitting on him and playing his computer game. Scott at least had a remaining cushion under his head, but one foot had taken out a pot plant and the other was hanging over the back of the sofa. His brother really was too tall for lying on the seating arrangements, but he didn’t seem to care.

With a bit of luck he might fall asleep.

“Okay, let’s finish this. How did you get to work today?” Gordon grunted. “This form has no rockets, planes, submarines or space elevators on it.”

“Tick the ‘other’ box and let them work it out.” John let out a yawn.

Virgil eyed him.

John screwed up his face and poked out his tongue.

Wha-“ Virgil blinked.

“Hey, Virg, how many hours did you work last week?”

That distracted him enough to turn to Gordon. “How the hell do I know?”

“You worked them. I bet you know your flight hours.”

“Today’s. Not last week. That was last week.”

“Eos, send Gordon last week’s record?”

The AI chimed in at her father’s request. “Yes, John.”

Another document appeared in front of Gordon. “Wow, that much? Really?”

“The documentation is correct as recorded.” Eos sounded a little miffed. But then she never particularly liked Gordon on the best of days.

His fault, of course.

“Virg, you win, but only by a bit over Scott and that was because he twisted his ankle on Monday.”

“Sprained, you mean.”

“Twisted.” It came from the couch and was strangled by a little brother.

“Sprained. He should have been off for several days, but he’s an idiot.”

“You can’t talk, Mr Bruised-not-cracked.”

“At least I’m not Cracked-not-broken.”

“Sure.”

Scott might have said more but Alan whacked him with a pillow. “You guys are idiots. Gords, John and I are lucky our grey hairs don’t show.” Alan growled. “I’m sixteen, for crying out loud, and I know more about hospitals than I ever wanted to. Look after yourselves, you morons.”

Silence hit the room again.

“Way to go, Allie. You tell ‘em.” Gordon’s words were honest.

Of course, Scott was devastated and immediately questioning all his life choices. Virgil wasn’t far behind, but Scott, in particular had a sensitive spot where Alan was concerned.

“Hey.” He reached out a hand and rested it on their little brother’s arm. “Talk to me, Allie.”

Alan growled again. “I’m fine as long as you two look after yourselves. We kinda need you, you know.”

Scott grabbed his little brother and dragged him down into a hug. “I’m sorry.”

Virgil sat with his boot in his lap needing to grab both his brothers but not wanting to interrupt their moment.

He shouldn’t have worried. A second later Gordon jumped over the back of the couch, landed beside him and grabbed him, dragging him sideways into an oomph of a hug. “Don’t worry, my dear wingman, we still love you even if you are an idiot.”

“Gordon…”

“Admit it, you want a hug.”

“Shut up.”

Gordon didn’t say anything further, but he did squeeze tighter.

“When you get to the questions on whether any of us looked after children, Gordon, tick yes for all of us.” John’s tone was as dry as a desert.

“Will do.” Gordon grinned at him.

Scott actually fell asleep after that. It was about time. Apparently, Alan made a great teddy bear.

Alan grumbled about that for days, but Virgil knew his little brother treasured his relationship with Scott and the fact he fell asleep as well was rather telling.

But that fact pretty much ended the census form filling for that night.

The next morning saw all of them out on an earthquake and it wasn’t until two days later that Gordon realised they hadn’t submitted the form.

Grabbing Scott and Virgil, he ran them through the last of the questions, landing on the definitions of their dwelling.

“How many registered motor vehicles do we have at this dwelling?”

“Er, none? We have no roads.” Virgil frowned at the obvious answer.

“Three rockets, two planes and a submarine don’t count?”

An arched eyebrow. “Does it say anything about planes? Tracy Two and Three are registered in Aotearoa.”

“Aotearoa is not the United States.”

“But they are still registered.”

Scott sighed. “Read the form properly, guys. It says exclude heavy vehicles.”

“Well, that strikes Virg off the list, but your ‘bird’s a pansy.”

That earned Gordon a mocking whack up the back of the head.

“Gords, just write zero. The intent is there.”

“Fine. We have no motor vehicles. Stupid form.” A sigh. “Okay, how many bedrooms do we have?”

Scott answered that one. “Ten.”

“I thought it was twelve.”

“One went to an art studio and the other to a music recording room.”

Gordon glared at Virgil. “Way to take over the house, bro.”

“And how many fish tanks do you have in how many rooms? Not to mention the chunk of vegetable garden we had to sacrifice for Rover’s pond?”

“Leave Rover out of this. That wasn’t his fault.”

Virgil snorted. “Not his.”

“Shut up.”

Scott sighed again. “We have ten bedrooms.” He scanned the rest of the form, which thankfully wasn’t very long. “We own the place outright, and yes, they can archive our information for our grandkids to access. Tick the boxes and get this sent so I can go get some lunch.”

“Yes, Commander.”

Scott growled but Gordon ignored him.

Boxes all ticked, he hit the submit button.

“This form has already been submitted. You may not submit it again.” Underneath was the date of the day before census night. “What the hell? How could we open it if - ” Scott hit his comms. “John!”

John’s hologram flickered up beside the misbehaving census form. “I’m between a hurricane in Bermuda and an avalanche in the Pyrenees. How may I help you?”

“What?!”

“Oh, the census form. Eos submitted that three days ago.” Their space brother was distracted a moment out of pick up range as Scott’s jaw dropped. “Needed to get it done before Gordon got his hands on it. Besides, we can’t guarantee we wouldn’t have been called out anyway, so I got it done beforehand.”

“Then why the hell were we going through the damned thing on census night?”

John blinked. “You had fun, didn’t you? We shared an evening together.”

Virgil joined both his brothers at staring at John.

The astronaut just smirked back at them. “You did a great job, Gordon. Thanks.” The smirk turned into a grin. “Thunderbird Five out.” His hologram disappeared.

Scott’s face curdled. “I’m going to kill him.”

Virgil let his shoulders drop and sighed. “You said that last time he did something like this, and he’s still kicking.”

“I’m soaking his underwear in saltwater.” Gordon had that fire in his eyes that usually preceded a Tracy Island Armageddon.

“Gords…”

“He played me, Virg. He knew what I would do and played me. He thinks I’m predictable!”

“Yeah, but he obviously did it for the right reasons.”

Virgil found himself the target of two glares. “What? You want a group hug or something? C’mere.” And he grabbed the both of them, wrapping his arms around them. “Happy Census Night.”

The grumbling was worth it.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Virgil Tracy #Gordon Tracy #John Tracy #Scott Tracy #Alan Tracy

[teamsarawatshusband]

Do you think there is a chance that WYB really believes in China's innocence in this? If people in China don't have all the information, then maybe he also doesn't know what is happening.

Okay, I’m gonna be very careful in how to answer this.

First of all, I don’t know him in person (obviously), so I can never know 100% what he does and doesn’t believe. Much like with any other celebrity.

My assumption on what he believes in this is based on what I know about his life and how that might potentially affect his thinking in matters like these. It is also based on what I know from my personal connections to Chinese citizens and what they have told me about politics and human rights affairs in the past.

Since Yibo is living in China, there is a big chance that he doesn’t have access to all the news regarding this specific political situation. So I do assume that he most likely doesn’t know the details of what’s going on in regards to the human rights violations and why exactly Nike spoke out against the government of his country.

However, he is very familiar with the business side of working with brands and he has had political situations affect career decisions in the past. So I can’t help but think that he knows things are fishy.

He must know that brands, especially big corporations like Nike, don’t make business-damaging statements against a whole country like this without global pressure. Let’s not forget, Nike like any other company, first and foremost has to think of their marketability and consumer’s trust. So, Yibo must know that consumers (not governments or political institutions but regular people) all over the world are watching the news and demanding that companies such as Nike take a stand. So, I’m assuming he knows that, in the eyes of the global population, based on their sources of information, the Chinese government is doing something bad.

Whether or not he believes this information to be true is a different question.

Now, if Yibo had lived his entire life in China, had grown up with the censorship and propaganda of the Chinese government throughout his life and not aware that this is different in other parts of the world, then I would assume he’d believe it to be false.

However, he has lived in South Korea for several years. So he did have access to a non-Chinese point of view on politics and life in general. He also has traveled to other countries professionally, both as a singer as well as an actor. He must know that independent sources of information are much easier accessible in other countries. He must know that the amount of freedom to publicly criticize a government or state personal opinions varies largely from country to country. I am convinced he is aware that censorship and deliberate spreading of misinformation is a common political practice in China. So, based on that, I do assume that he takes information from Chinese news with a critical mindset that doesn’t simply trust and buy into everything that is served to him.

He also has witnessed political situations affect his or other co-stars’ careers. He used to be in Uniq which, as all k-pop bands, suddenly wasn’t allowed to appear on Chinese TV anymore, even though they hadn’t done anything wrong. And a big change of course of action like that was kept all hush-hush in the entire Chinese media. He must know that this wasn’t fair, that they innocently fell victim to political agendas. An entire career, fanbase, performance platform simply taken away from all of them, one second to the next, and they hadn’t caused it and didn’t have any say in it either. Are we really assuming that they simply took that blow without wanting to speak out and fight for the success they had worked so hard for?

The 227 situation was very similar. The international success of one Chinese series brought so much traffic to AO3, that the Chinese government noticed it as public platform depicting values that they didn’t want China to be associated with. More importantly, a public platform with content that they couldn’t control. So they went and blocked it. And who had to suffer the blame? The government? Of course not. Xiao Zhan, who hadn’t done anything other that be an actor in the series. Because of this he lost so many marketing deals and job offers that people believed his career was over for good. All while doing nothing wrong.

Yibo, as the second main actor in the same series, 100% saw all of this go down. He knows that Xiao Zhan hadn’t caused any of it, knows that he was blamed unfairly. He also knows that remaining silent under those circumstances will only cause more harm to a career and public reputation. He knows that the only option is to say what you are expected to say, regardless of what you think.

And, I mean, based on all the situations that I have been in in my life, where I was forced to say something against my will, and based on knowing Yibo to be quite headstrong and having a competitive mindset... I just can’t picture him going, “Well, they make me say this. So, I believe it too.”

Now, based on what I have heard from people that I personally know IRL, I think some of the things that my aunt and uncle have mentioned left the biggest impression on me. My uncle is European but has lived and worked in China for decades now. My aunt is Chinese, grew up in China and only after meeting and marrying my uncle has traveled out of the country.

My uncle is very outspoken about life in China. When talking to him in person, he will tell you everything he personally experienced, including things like tax evasion, people avoiding police charges with hush money, countrywide blocking of messaging services and email providers, copyright frauds as legitimate business endeavors, illegal confiscation of items by police/border control etc. etc. etc. Basically, the gist of his reports is, “In China, if you are a regular person, you have to be aware of this, work around the corruption/unfairness and, most importantly, not make a big fuss about it. If you are somebody with money and powerful connections, you can buy yourself out of any situation. Unless if you stand in the public eye, then you’ll be used to make an example of  - under the guise of a just and law-abiding country.“ He will tell you all of this, while over here. Never when in China. Because he knows the consequences.

My aunt is a lot quieter on the matter. She never directly spoke out against Chinese politics and never directly called out the issues of censorship and corruption. But she often asked, “Are we really allowed to say this here? Back home we can’t.” And when I talked to her about specific political situations she confirmed a lot of things with small examples from her experience. While my uncle is mostly angry when speaking about those things, my aunt is primarily careful in her phrasing. She very clearly loves her country dearly (who wouldn’t it’s a beautiful country with wonderful people), and she is very pained by how it is governed, and how that governing affects both the people living there as well as how China is perceived in the world.

I have never spoken to them about celebrities or specific entertainment issues, but what I do know from them is, if somebody in China is a public figure with success and a bit of wealth, they will:

- most certainly be aware that their government’s actions are often unjust and based on corruption and personal gain

- be forced to side with said government or, if they refuse, forced to retire for good

- have to do propaganda related work. Either, if they (or somebody close to them) did/said some non-government-compliant things, for people in power positions to overlook those, or in return for specific freedoms they wouldn’t get to enjoy otherwise.

Especially the forcing of propaganda jobs on public figures, I can’t help not relating that to Yibo.

Just compare some of his songs... “無感 Wu Gan”, for example, with his recent “青春恰时来 - Youth Comes in Time”.

Wu Gan is musically progressive, sounds fresh and goes with the genres and types of music Yibo has shown to love before. And he officially wrote it himself. Youth Come in Time, which he released but was neither composed nor lyrically written by him, sounds like a polar opposite. Musically, it sounds like what you would hear in a 90s advertisement.

And looking at the lyrics, I mean... that song has lines like “strengthen the country”, “we stand in the front row”, “I am with my country”, “the Chinese stage is taking off” - how is that not propaganda?

Do we really, genuinely think that somebody believes in this, even though in the songs that he wrote himself, and has stated to be about his own personal experiences, he says stuff like, “don’t become a puppet whose feelings are manipulated by others”, “every day there’s someone going on and off stage - just remain emotionless”, “You’re famous but you have no works and the voices scolding you only get worse”, “I’ve trapped myself and I can’t make my goals distinct”?

Do we?

Really?

I’ll leave that up to you.

#anon ask #yizhan #i'm not sure if i should tag that with his name

[stuckinapatriarchalbullshitland]

Sorry Moonchild

I don't know how to express my chaotic thoughts right now but there are really two things I understood from Lauren's live. One, she was just selling her logical LJ1 narrative and I'm not saying her fight wasn't real or invalidating her feelings, but she has just copied the was never real tweet at once erasing everything we've seen before . She spoke from her perspective but I think she forgot that everything that happened between the two of them was reciprocal, it was not only her, Camila was also. And he did it to keep Camila in the closet when she never belonged to him and less in the past was what has screwed me the most from that video. Lauren's speech isn't new, folks. She has always had it and her traumas did not begin in adolescence, nor with TXF, nor with 5H, nor with Camren, they began in her childhood. They started with their family and continued their education LONG BEFORE MEETING CAMILA. That I think haters have forgotten very quickly. And why involve the Latino community in all that drama? I really agree with several of my mutuals here. Lauren didn't take Camila out of the closet but kept her there, a prisoner. She erased everything that gave us a sense of identity in a way that has always been used by the industry. I think it was @romanticentropy or @emisonme ​​who said that the industry DOES NOT SELL REALITY but PRs and Lauren described that. I know that afterwards my inbox is going to be filled with haters again, but I don't care. What has screwed me the most is that those fucking bastards used the last letter to kill Camren which was Lauren, who always denied Camren to make us drop like flies. If they have succeeded, I don't know. Possibly. All I know is, unfortunately, Lauren has given rise to circus fans to use her against us because her clip talking about Camren and Camila is already circulating on their fucking accounts. I have to remind you once again that every artist needs a public backstory to "justify" their music and Lauren Jauregui's backstory will always be Laucy, Tyren, and Deny Camren because that's what drives the most headlines. Wait and see, folks. In fact, it already did yesterday because the global trend WAS LAUREN TALKING ABOUT CAMILA. So for me there is nothing new here. This is a bit of going back to 2016 and 2017 and it's really funny, but I doubt the fandom will die completely if fans decide to quit. Camren has meant a lot to many fans. Many queer fans who have been represented in the relationship of the girls, in what they transmitted. If that was never real I don't know what pussies we saw at the 2018 AMAs. If Camren wasn't real I don't know why Camila keeps talking about green eyes in her songs and Lauren promoting her eyes like crazy all the time after the premiere from South of the Border. If Camila was always straight, I don't know what her phrase means "This album is not really about boys." If Camila was always straight, I don't know what those green eyes mean in Camila's She Loves Control merch. I'm here to say that I really don't understand it, I really don't. Camila never hid her essence and for this she was repressed. Lauren freely chose to hide hers during her time before Fifth Harmony so as not to be harassed or bullied and is respectable, it was her decision to take care of herself. But this seems to have invalidated people who bravely decide never to hide and live their essences freely. I feel like Camila was always one of those people and I'm sorry, but I can't agree with Lauren on that point. What she did I did not like and cannot support her. And I don't, because I felt identified with what she did. I had a gay friend for a short period of time who never denied his sexuality or that he liked boys and in the camp where I met him he always showed himself free, without hiding his essence despite being harassed and bullied and it was me who always came out to defend him. Forever. Pablo always told me not to do it because he didn't care what they said about him and that annoyed me because those idiots had no right to do him that harm when he was not doing anything wrong. Until a counselor from the camp came to talk to me and told me to try to convince my friend to hide. He convinced me to talk to Pablo to hide his essence and not be disturbed. I naively believed that I was doing something good and I told him, I tried to convince Pablo of that and he got mad at me for it. He told me that he thought that I was his friend and that I would be the only one who would not do such a thing as hide and he stopped talking to me for a while until he went to apologize and tell him that if he did not want to hide that he did not do it. That she would support him and help him fight and defend himself if he needed it. Pablo became my friend again and since then I promised myself never to interfere with anyone's real essence. Lauren didn't understand that when she kept Camila in the closet. What has screwed me the most about the video was not Lauren's words per se, but the fact that she knew that we were once manipulated by management. Again. But, despite everything. I will not fall for the game. I'm not going to fall for all the haters who say we've lost that Lauren has killed our fandom and a thousand other shits. There was a story there folks, and we don't know for sure if it still does, but there was something there and no one is going to convince us otherwise. Not the haters, not the industry, not even Lauren. She also knows that we don't believe her so again, nothing new. All I know is that LJ1 is coming and the promo machine is up and running with Lauren. Soon we will see that it will have headlines (because it already has videos of fans on Youtube talking about it) so I am going to leave this long ass post here and warn anons and haters that I will keep my inbox closed after answering the group of asks that have me arrived. That's it. Peace out.

#sorry moonchild #i can't convince you to stay #but love the ones who decide to stay

[snarksandkisses]

What I think about COVID-19 this morning - Malia Jones, PhD, MPH

What I think about COVID-19 this morning

March 5, 2020

 Maybe I'm the closest thing you personally know to an infectious disease epidemiologist. Maybe not--I'm not an expert on this virus by any stretch, but I have general knowledge and training from studying epidemics that is applicable, so here are my thoughts. 

 First and foremost: we are going to see a tremendous increase in the number of US cases of COVID-19 in the next week. This is not because of some new pattern in the spread of the disease, but rather due to a major change in the requirements to be tested. Until yesterday, if you had flulike illness but had not recently traveled to China, Italy, South Korea, or Iran, you could not be tested. This is just the way healthcare works, you get tested if you meet the case definition and the case definition included travel.

 As of yesterday, you can be tested if you are sick and have a doctor's order to be tested. So expect things to feel a lot more panicky all of a sudden. We will see hundreds or thousands of new cases as a result of testing increases.

 Second: is that panic legitimate? Sort of. This is not the zombie apocalypse. The death rate of 30 deaths per 1000 cases is probably a wild overestimate. (The denominator is almost certainly wrong because it is confirmed cases--and we only confirm cases when we test for them). That said, even at 3 per 1000 cases, this would be a big deal. A very big deal. By way of comparison, the death rate for influenza is between 1 and 2 in 1000 cases. So, yeah. Roughly 0x to 30x worse than a huge global flu pandemic? That's a problem.

 Unlike flu, COVID-19 is not *particularly* dangerous for children, so that’s some happy news. It is dangerous for older adults and those with lung conditions, so we need to be extra careful to protect those populations from exposure. 

Also, for millions of Americans, getting any serious illness requiring a hospitalization is a major problem because they can't pay for it. And our health care system is probably going to struggle to keep up with it all. And with China basically closed, our global economy is going to take a huge hit and we'll feel the shockwaves for years. Those are real concerns.

 What can we do? Our focus should be on *slowing down the spread* of this disease so that we have time to get caught up. Here is my advice:

 1. Wash. Your. Hands. Wash them so much.

The current best guess is that coronavirus is transmitted via close contact and surface contamination. A very small study came out yesterday suggesting that the virus causing COVID-19 is *mostly* transmitted via contact with contaminated surfaces.

I have started washing my hands each time I enter a new building and after being in shared spaces (classrooms especially), in addition to the standard practice of washing after using the bathroom and before eating. Soap and water. Hand sanitizer also kills this virus, as does rubbing alcohol (the main ingredient in hand sanitizer).

 There is no need to be obsessive about this. Just wash your hands. A little bit more effort here goes a long way. 

 2. Don’t pick your nose. Or put your fingers in your mouth, on your lips, or in your eyes. Surface contact works like this: you touch something dirty. Maybe it's an elevator button. Virus sticks to your hands. Then you rub your eye. Then you touch your sandwich, and put the sandwich in your mouth. Now there is virus in your eyes and mouth. See?

 You may be thinking, but I don’t pick my nose because I am an adult! An observational study found that people sitting at a desk working touched their eyes, nose, or lips between 3 and 50 times per hour. Perfectly normal grown-ups, not lowlifes like my friends.

 2a. There was one note that came out suggesting that face masks actually promote surface contamination because you're always adjusting them--i.e., touching your face. I don’t know if that’s true. But face masks should not be worn by the public right now, unless you are the person who is sick and you're on your way to or actually at the doctor's office. The mask’s function is to prevent spit from flying out of your mouth and landing on things when you cough or sneeze. It flies out of your mouth and is caught in the mask instead. If you are the person who is sick and not on the way to the doctor, go home. Let the people who really need them have the masks. Like doctors.

 [ETA on 3/6/2020 honestly people I am getting so much push back on the mask recommendation!! The world is running low on masks. If everyone wants a mask so they can feel ok about keeping their Daytona Beach Spring Break plans and then hospitals in India can't buy them anymore, shame on us.]

 Coronavirus does not appear to be airborne in the sense that doesn't remain floating around freely in the air for a long time, like measles does. You are probably not going to breathe it in, unless someone is coughing in front of you. If someone is coughing in your face, feel free to tell them to get their ass home and move 6 feet away from them. (Yeah I know, if you have a toddler, you're screwed.)

 3. Sanitize the objects you and lots of other people touch, especially people outside your family--like door handles, shared keyboards at schools (brrr), salad bar tongs, etc. Best guesses are that the virus can live on surfaces for 2-48 hours, maybe even longer, depending on the surface, temperature, and humidity.

 Many common household cleaning products will kill this virus. However, white vinegar solution does not. You can make your own inexpensive antimicrobial spray by mixing 1 part household bleach to 99 parts cold tap water. Spray this on surfaces and leave for 10-30 minutes. Note: this is bleach. It will ruin your sofa.

 4. "Social distancing." You're going to get so sick of this phrase. This means keeping people apart from one another (preferably 6 feet apart, and sanitizing shared objects). This public health strategy is our next line of defense, and its implementation is what will lead to flights and events cancelled, borders closed, and schools closed.

 For now, you could limit face-to-face meetings, especially large ones. Zoom is an excellent videoconferencing option. If you spend time in shared spaces, see #1. Ask your child's school about their hygiene plan, if they haven't already told you what it is. If I were in charge of a school setting, I'd be hand sanitizing the s*** out of the kids' hands, including in and out of each space, and taking temperatures at the door. I am planning to email our school nurse right after this to ask if they need my volunteer help cleaning surfaces.

 If you can telecommute, do that a little more. If you are someone's boss and they could do their job remotely, encourage them to do that. 

 Avoid large gatherings of people if at all possible, especially if they are in an area with cases OR places that lots of people travel to. If you attend group events and start to feel even a little bit sick within 2 to 14 days, you need to self isolate immediately. Like for a tiny tickle in your throat.

 5. All your travel plans are about to get screwed up. If you are considering booking flights right now, get refundable tickets. ETA: most trip insurance will not cover cancellations due to a pandemic. Look for "cancel for any reason" trip insurance. 

 Considerations for risks related to that trip you’re planning: how bad would it be if you got stuck where you are going for 3 to 6 weeks? How bad would it be to be isolated at home for 2-3 weeks upon your return? Do you have direct contact with people who are over 70 and/or have lung conditions? If those seem really bad to you, rethink your trip, especially if it is to a location where there are confirmed cases. 

 6. If you are sick, stay home. Please! For the love of all that is holy. Stay at home. Your contributions to the world are really just not that important.

 7. There is a good chance some communities will see school cancelled and asked to limit non-essential movement. If someone in your family gets sick your family will almost certainly be isolated for 2-3 weeks (asked to stay at home). You could start stocking up with essentials for that scenario, but don't run out and buy a years' worth of toilet paper. Again, not the apocalypse. 2 weeks' worth of essential items. Refill any prescriptions, check your supply of coffee, kitty litter, and jigsaw puzzles.

 8. I do want to remind everyone that when public health works, the result is the least newsworthy thing ever: nothing happens. If this all fizzles out and you start feeling like ‘Wah, all that fuss for nothing??’ Then send a thank-you note to your local department of public health for a job well done. Fingers crossed for that outcome.

 9. Look, I think there are some positives here. All this handwashing could stop flu season in its tracks! We have an opportunity to reduce our global carbon footprint by telecommuting more, flying less, and understanding where our stuff comes from. We can use this to think about the problems with our healthcare system. We can use this to reflect on our positions of privilege and implicit biases. We can start greeting each other using jazz hands. I'm genuinely excited about those opportunities.

 There is a lot we don't yet know about this virus. It didn't even exist 90 days ago. So stay tuned, it is an evolving situation. The WHO website has a decent FAQ. Free to email or text with questions, and you can forward this to others if you think it's useful.

 May the force be with you. 

 Malia Jones, PhD, MPH

[email protected]

 I’m an Assistant Scientist in Health Geography at the Applied Population Laboratory at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. I study social contact of humans, and spatial patterns of infectious disease, among other things. 

   P.S. The number one question I am getting is, did you really write this? Yes. I wrote this. 

 I didn't write it for professional purposes, so I didn't put my work email on it. It was really just meant to be an email to my friends and family in advance of what I expect to be an escalation in the panic level. But it was apparently welcome information and went viral on FB. I've decided not to edit out the swears, even though I wrote this with a much smaller audience in mind. 

 Thanks for checking your facts! Go science! 

#COVID-19 #coronavirus #wash your hands #Social distancing #don't panic #but maybe just a little panic

[known-as-naya]

What’s your favourite thing about the Klebekah dynamic and your fave scenes? What was it that drew you to them

Thanks Yuki for asking this, it took me hours to think of all my fav scenes but it was worth it lol ❤️

My fav thing about the klebekah dynamic:

So, klebekah. I simply love them if it isn't obvious by now lmao, their codependent and dysfunctional toxic relationship fascinates me so much. They're litteraly the most important person in each other's life and I love that, I love how they understand one another with just a look, I love how they never gave up on each other for a thousand years despite all the betrayals, I love how they adore and worship one another, I LOVE THEM.

Rebekah was the person klaus loved the most in the world (besides hope ofc) it's actually funny how most of the fandom doesn't realize the impact she always had on him, she was his humanity for a thousand years, she was his constant (along with Elijah ) and he was hers, and as we saw on the show Rebekah was the person he showed affection the most.

As for rebekah, Klaus was the man she ADORED since she was a little girl, he was her big brother, the person she wanted to be like when she gets older, her protector, soulmate and best friend. Rebekah was the only person who never actually tried to change him, she loved him as he is during a thousand years and I LOVE THAT.

-The thing that drawn me to them:

Are a lot of things but THE CHEMISTRY was what made me fall in love, fun fact: but the first time I discovered klebekah I was watching a tvd scene on YouTube a couple of years ago and coincidentally it was their 3×03 Chicago flashback scene with Stefan, and I thought they were a sort of threesome of something lmao and when I knew they were siblings I was shocked but continued to ship them anyway cause why not.

What are your fav scenes ?

Oh boy, this is a very DIFFICULT question cause I practically love all their freaking scenes, but I eventually have to choose so there you go:

-I'll begin with tvd:

-There's 3×03, of course, THIS WHOLE EPISODE IS FULL OF INCEST. the "I'm not your girlfriend", the "choose him or me" Klaus' jealousy, the eye sex, the daggering session, the hand holding, EVERYTHING SCREAMED KLEBEKAH. This ep was such a strong introduction to their strange dynamic.

-3×04: my fav thing about this ep is Klaus taking rebekah to shop and being a child about it. He was so done with her already but at the same time so happy to have her around again. I loved the surprised expression on Stefan's face the whole time, he was not used to this side of Klaus, he was not used to Klaus being wrapped around someone's little finger. I loved their little conversation when she was trying that dress and she said something about women in the 21th century dressing like prostitues and that she got dirty looks for wearing trousers and then Klaus said you wore trousers so women today could wear nothing. Lmaooo it was hilarious.

- 3×15: "I hated you when I learned that you killed our mother but after a thousand years together as a family you're the only one who never left me "

" Aren't we a pair ?" THIS MF LINE GETS ME EVERYTIME. I don't have words to describe what it does to me but I love this scene and the fact that Klaus thought that rebekah was going to show him her torturer's skills makes it better.

-3×18: " you destroyed our family" "I wanted a family they just didn't want me, and now that we're unlinked we're no longer responsible for each other" "so are you leaving ?" "As soon as a get my stakes I'm gone..... I'm gonna make a NEW FAMILY of hybrids" "and if I choose to stay ?" "Then you're just as pathetic as Finn " THIS WHOLE scene was a masterpiece, them looking at each other like that makes me wanna give them a hug:

-3×20: it wasn't really a klebekah scene cause it was Esther in Rebekah's body but the way Klaus smiled at her and agreed to go to the dance JUST for her melt my heart.

-3×22: oh gosh this one, breaks my heart but love it so much " how dare you save Caroline over me ?" " You left me !" "it's always been me, not Finn not Elijah no Kol ME, I LOVED YOU through everything and you don't even care " and then he chokes her and say something he -IM SURE- regrets immediately "you know something rebekah you're right I don't care, from this moment on you're not my family you're not my sister you are nothing " and then he breaks her neck. I HATE THIS SCENE BUT I LOVE IT. these two needed couple therapy. Klaus was horrible, she watched him die, she mourned him, her heart broke. He could've told her about his plan tho ? I'm still wondering why he didn't but I guess he was just being an asshole as usual and took her as granted. And him saving Caroline over her was not it.

-4×04: the flashback hunter scene "YOU TRUSTED HIM OVER ME " "WHAT DID HE PROMISE YOU " "TELL ME REBEKAH " it was like he caught her cheating on him lmaooo. On the same episode there's the famous line "laugh at the girl who loved too easily but I would rather to live my life than yours Nik, no one will ever sit around a table telling stories about a man who couldn't love" the way he looked down after her saying that breaks my heart, cause Klaus could love, he LOVES her, then he daggers her -cause he's a paranoid bastard- and he cries about it.

-Let's switch to TO scenes:

-1×02: this episode is one of my favs but the best scene was when Klaus was choking Hayley after he learned that she wanted to abort the baby then, rebekah slammed him against the wall (it was hot tbh lmao) and she said "it's okay to care, it's okay to want something that's all Elijah was trying to do all he's ever wanted for you, all we've ever wanted." The way he looked her deep in the eyes gets me everytime, he was trying so hard not to cry. Then they sat together, exhausted, and Klaus told her about his plan -that involved giving Elijah to marcel lol- and if she doesn't like it, there's the door.

-1×03: one of my fav episodes too and it has so many good klebekah scenes, “that depends what plan you mean love my plan for global domination or rebekahs plan to find love in a cruel cruel world”  then she giggled and threw a pen at him so lovingly lol. They were teasing and all flirty with each other in front of Hayley and they acted as nothing happened the night before and Klaus never gave Elijah to marcel, after that they teamed up and everything was going fine but Klaus happened. then there's the masquerade ball scene when Klaus called rebekah " you really are a hideously evil little thing aren't you "

and them being jealous watching marcel and cami dancing. later in  this ep theres the famous “you disgust me” scene, the tension was so thick i acually thought they were about to kiss and have sex on that damn piano lmao but klaus as usual disapointed rebekah, she trusted him against all her better instincts and he choose to act against her back cause he thought his plan was smarter.

-I'm not sure in which episode this scene is but I remember Klaus telling rebekah "you were quite resourceful today..... sometimes I think I don't give you your due little sister" it was so cute cause Klaus knows that he doesn't give Rebekah enough credits, and she was so happy to hear him say that.

-1×14: the famous "YOU CANNOT HIDE FROM ME REBEKAH" this episode had me crying the first time I watched it, Klaus was so angry, disappointed and hurt, he could not believe that his baby sister did this to him, that he was in denial for almost a century and he for that she must pay. "Rebekah would not call my father no matter how angry she was " "enough of your lies" even after seeing the truth from the source he still couldn't believe it cause he loved her so freaking much and he thought she did too.

Then them fighting and Klaus getting turned on by her beating his ass up

-1×15: this mf scene.

The kiss, THE FREAKING CLOSE TO THE LIPS KISS. the sexual tension in this scene was HUGE, Klaus finally "set rebekah free" and he was DRUNK doing it. "We don't have to run anymore, we've found a home" and the look on Rebekah's face is priceless, she was shocked and almost guilty cause at this time she has already called mikeal and Klaus was a little too late.

Also in the same episode, THE BLOOD SHARING. Look at them just look at them.

-1×16:

THE BABY MIKAELSON FLASHBACK !! OMG, this scene melts my heart. "Don't be afraid I won't let it hurt you " "will you stay with me till the storm ends ?" And he did stay with her no matter what. I love this scene cause it shows how close and protective they were of each other since forever. Then he gives her the wooden knight so she can be brave. I'm soft.

Then there's this one too ! I love how Rebekah was actually the only one to ever stand against mikeal, she even tried to kill him, just for Klaus. So much devotion.

I'm still not over this one, the hurt on Rebekah's voice as she says those words, Klaus's tears, the whole episode was so angsty but this scene was IT. and then he realised what he did to her, that instead of protecting her he was hurting and suffocating her so he did something he's not used to do, being selfless, and he let her go.

The 1×22 scene: LITTERALY on top of my fav scenes list ! Klaus giving hope to Rebekah proved how much he trusted her "there's no one I would trust more with my daughter's life" and the fact that she came back just for him (and hope) proved that she never really wanted to leave, she just needed a little freedom. Then when he handed her the little toy I WAS IN TEARS OKAY, it was so soft. They were so happy and relieved to see each other again.

-2×09: "if anything goes south I'll be there to pull you out" "you and I on the same team it must me Christmas" he promised to protect her at any cost and she knew he will. Them teaming up against Esther was so great, then the "take me instead" , Klaus was WILLING to sacrifice his immortal life for REBEKAH, if this isn't pure love then I don't know what it is.

-2×17: another episode losing his shit because his wife-sorry sister is in danger. He let Freya enter his mind just to save her (and he was so suspicious about it cause he didn't want her to know his strategies but in fact he was just afraid she'll know about his questionable taste in woman lmaoo)

And this mf scene is so cute, look at their smiles, the forehead touch, his hand on her neck, here on his arm, FOR YOU FOR NOW. I can't believe this is actually canon.

-2×22: "family tradition!" "Minus the family."

"Well, you're here."" In the skin of your choosing, no less."

"Well, poor you. Because that body is such a hardship."

"You would hand over your crown? And do what?" "Raise my daughter... with the help of my sisters. One big, happy family."

" Now, that does sound grand-- minus the giant, Elijah-sized hole in the room. And, whilst your sisters raise your child, what will the child's mother be doing, exactly?"

"This, dear brother, is not what happiness looks like."

This scene was so important, Klaus was wrong and he needed someone to remind him that what he did was not necessary, that he hurt most of his family, and rebekah was there for that. He wished she'd stray with him to "raise" his daughter but after this scene we see Freya offering her Eva's body so she leaves.

-3×09: "you're always leaving" "and I always come back" THEN THE DAMN HUG. their hugs are always so good, the way they close their eyes and hold each other tight and they seem like they never want to let go of each other. Then she has to leave and make Elijah dagger her without telling Nik, cause she wants Nik to be happy for once.

-3×22: "wasn't you who once told me I could talk my way out of hell " and then they smile affectionately at each other and HUG tightly. After this he took her hand and they both walk to their possible end, and she watches him getting stabbed by marcel after she was forced to say all those things she did and didn't think. The whole trial scene was a masterpiece. I love it.

-4×02: this EP was full of klebekah soft scenes. There was the reunion HUG . the way she runs to him the second she sees him and the way he reaches to her and hugs her tightly to his chest.

The kiss on the cheek after "thank you for not abandoning me" and the way he smiles at her was so SOFT OMG.

-4×03: the goodbye hug "Nik you do not need me anymore, I know that I'm your fav sibling and of course I adore you" "you were the only one who never treated me like s misfit, for centuries my only place was by your side...." AND THEY HUG TIGHTLY AGAIN. this was the first time Klaus let Rebekah do whatever the hell she wanted without fighting or daggering and it was revolutionary to her. (The fact that she's his fav sibling and she KNOWS it makes me so happy lmao).

-5×01: their phone call about Elijah. They were both so lost and devastated without him it broke my heart. "How does he look?" "Happy.."

-5×08: "ah Nik always so dramatic"

They were so happy to be reunited after 7 years of being apart, look at them hugging each other so tightly. I LOVE this scene.

-5×12: then there's the goodbye scene, Klaus gave her the cure so he can make up for a thousand years of hurt, "live the life you've always wanted to live, MY SISTER" the way he looked at her so proudly, so in love makes me cry. In my opinion he gave her the cure so they can reunite again in the afterlife. Both him and Elijah can't live or die without her, they're supposed to be together, they're meant to be together and the cure will bring her to them, to him, again. It was such a good scene, the hug, the last glances, everything.

And that's it!!! I'm sure I forgot some other scenes but those are the most important. ❤️

#klebekah #thanks yuki for asking this #and sorry for the typos #most of this was written at 3 am #evanescentrainbow #the originals

[unbridgeabledistances]

here is a part 2 of my valentine’s day one-shot from the other day!! part 3 of them actually celebrating is coming fri, but wanted to make it a lil countdown:) also big creds to @udontfuckangie for their post about ian getting mickey stargazer lilies for valentines bc it… truly made me feel so many things and i had to write this

--

Ian didn’t really remember ever celebrating Valentine’s Day for real— not like everyone else in middle school or high school, like when Lip was off buying flowers for girls or Mandy was trying to get the guy she liked to ask her out— but he definitely remembered celebrating it as a kid, when he’d have to scrounge up some shoebox from under his bed and bring it to his overcrowded classroom to cover with colorful construction paper and make shitty valentines to swap with his friends. Those were the days when Frank was around some, and so was Monica— he remembered one year, when he was maybe 5 or 6, when Monica was there and he had come home with a thin pink slip of paper from his teacher saying that he needed to bring in valentines for his class. Monica had whisked him down the street to the dollar store where they’d ransacked the rickety shelves of all the art supplies they could carry, and then they sat at the kitchen table for hours gluing glitter to cut-out hearts.

So maybe that’s why Ian’s heart had melted last Sunday, when Franny had mentioned that she needed to buy valentines for her class at school— Ian knew it was stupid, or whatever, but he knew how far a few solid childhood memories could go in this neighborhood, how those types of moments were the stuff you lived on for years afterwards when things got harder and darker. So while he’d been caught up in so much shit lately, for a couple of hours on that Sunday afternoon all Ian wanted was for Franny to soak up that feeling like a sponge—to make memories with her like the good ones that he’d had with Monica, the ones that stood out and burned in his chest like a hot branding iron when he remembered them.

And then a yawning, sleep-soft Mickey had stumbled into the kitchen, and the three of them were nestled beside each other at the table doing fucking arts and crafts; and for some reason it made Ian’s blood run hotter than usual, and got him thinking about how fuck it, he wanted to give Mickey a Valentine’s Day this year— not in the weird, heteronormative bullshit way, but in the way that he could just kind of… show Mickey how much he meant to him, how Mickey still made his heart feel like it was going to explode out of his ribcage even after the years they’d been together. This was the longest time that he and Mickey had ever been together consecutively, the longest time they’d slept side by side before something dark curled its fingers around them and pulled them apart, and he wanted to do something to acknowledge that— something to start their forever, as fucking cheesy as that sounded.

Of course, Mickey had no concept of Valentine’s Day or any of that shit, which made the whole thing all the more perfect— Ian wanted to catch him off guard, wanted to pull them both out of the funk that had been hovering over them for the months after the wedding, when everything turned brittle and stale once the bills started to pile up. They were better now—or at least they were trying to be— but it still meant something that half of their time being married had been spent navigating a fucking global pandemic and squabbling with each other and barely making ends meet.

So now it was the day before Valentine’s Day, and Ian was standing on a busy Chicago street corner in the bitter cold, watching the bundled passersby briskly walk by to scramble inside and stave off the chill. Ian hadn’t been to this neighborhood since his days working at the club, or maybe once or twice when he was hanging out with people from the youth center; the pristine glass storefronts with minimalist displays nearly blinded Ian’s eyes after the past ten months of being accustomed to the crumbling paint-chipped architecture of the South Side. But he was here on a mission; in front of him stood the high-end, boujee as fuck florist’s shop, one of the top-rated ones in the city according to the quick search he’d plugged into his phone.

Ian normally didn’t give a shit about stuff like this— to him, a flower was a flower, and a chair for a wedding was just a goddamn chair— but he knew Mickey, for some reason this sappy shit was a whole lot more important to him, no matter how hard Mickey tried to hide it. All the symbols and the fanfare meant something to Mickey—it meant that they’d made it, that they got to have a normal fucking life together, beyond both of their wildest dreams. So if Ian had to brave a stupid, gentrifying flower shop on a chilly Friday afternoon to make Mickey happy, then that was what he was going to do.

A soft bell tinkled as Ian entered the shop, immediately surrounded by the nearly-bare shelves of minimalist bouquets. The store was incredibly cramped and narrow, with overly-peppy music playing low, and was packed tight with wire-rimmed glasses wearing, re-usable bag toting hipsters standing in a line all the way to the counter. Shit. This line was going to take all day—and who the fuck knew if they even had what Ian was looking for? A looming pang of desperation started to churn in the pit of his stomach as he lurked by the doorway. Fuck it, he had to do this.

Before Ian really processed what he was doing he was quickly darting past the line, getting a series of dirty looks from everyone he shuffled by.

“S’cuse me, coming through, floral emergency.”

Finally, he reached the counter, sliding in beside some girl in her mid-twenties with a punk haircut. “Uh, sorry, can I just ask if they have what I’m looking for real quick?”

The girl rolled her eyes. “If you’re desperate enough to cut the fucking line, I’d say you’re worse off than I am. Men are fucking clueless.”

Ian nearly grimaced, but tried to twist his face into a soft, grateful smile. “Thank you.” He turned to the cashier at the counter, a dude with a man bun and a floral button-up shirt who looked pretty amused by this whole situation.

“It’s the day before Valentine’s Day, honey. Everyone here is in a floral emergency.” The cashier sighed, looking Ian up and down appraisingly. “What’re you looking for?”

“Uh. I think they’re called… stargazer lilies? The ones that bloom at a specific time, or something? We were supposed to have them at my wedding, but then the venue got burnt down by my husband’s homophobic father, so we kind of had to pull the whole wedding thing together on short notice— it’s kind of a long story, but I really, really need to get these flowers for Valentine’s Day.” Ian leaned in close over the counter, hoping he didn’t look too desperate. “It’s our first one together and it’s been a fucking shitty year and it would just— it would mean a lot.”

Ian finally exhaled, and hoped by some miracle that this cashier, or someone in the fucking universe, would take pity on him.

The cashier pulled his glasses down to the bridge of his nose, tapping away at the iPad on the counter before glancing up. “Hmm. I’m sorry honey, you’re fresh out of luck. Those lilies bloom in the summer mostly, and no one around here really has them. You could maybe check one of the little flower shops down the street, they do special orders and stuff this time of year—but I’ll be honest, I don’t know if you’re gonna get these flowers by tomorrow.”

Ian felt disappointment bubble up inside him. Of fucking course there were none of these obscure flowers in Chicago the day before Valentine’s Day— he’d had this grand idea of giving Mickey a perfect Valentine’s Day, of starting off on the right foot, and he still put this shit off until the last minute and couldn’t give Mickey what he deserved. Mickey would’ve never made this mistake.

Ian cleared his throat. “Shit. Well, uh, thanks anyways.”

He turned, heading for the door and getting ready to be assaulted by the bitter cold again. Okay, there were a couple flower marts down the street, he could try that— but he had a sinking feeling that the results would be the same, that he’d be left empty-handed tomorrow with nothing to give.

Okay. Focus. I’ve gotta plan a bunch of shit for Valentine’s Day by tomorrow.

What would Mickey do?

**

The flat drone of the dial tone made Mickey’s head buzz, the same dull vibration he’d heard dozens of times that week. Finally, he heard the click of someone answering.

“Hello, this is Sizzlers, how may I help you?”

“Hi, it’s, uh, it’s Mickey Milkovich. Again. I’m just checking in one more time to make sure we’re all good for tomorrow?”

There was a silence on the other end of the line, like the hostess was taking a moment to compose herself. “Yes, Mr. Milkovich. Since this is the… seventh time you’ve checked in in the past week, I believe, everything has definitely been arranged as you requested.”

Mickey cleared his throat. “Uh, good. Thanks. We’ll be there for our reservation at 8.”

He clicked his phone off and flung it down onto the bed. It had been nearly a week since he’d decided he was going to try to give Ian some kind of Valentine’s Day like the normal fucking couple Ian wanted to be, but he had to admit, this shit was hard work; he had to think of the perfect place he wanted them to go, had to call and make a reservation and arrange everything perfectly— and then there was the matter of deciding what to get Ian, because apparently married people also got each other fucking gifts on Valentine’s Day, which sounded like overkill to him. He’d been scrolling through Buzzfeed “Valentine’s Day Gift” lists for the better part of the afternoon, and even snuck some of Debbie’s chick magazines into the bathroom to sift through articles like “Ten Things to Get Your Man for Valentine’s Day” or “Best V-Day Gifts for Newlyweds.” Finally, after fucking days of plans stirring in the back of his mind, Mickey finally thought he had all of the pieces together; the reservation was made, the timing was set, and he’d even stopped by some fancy fucking chocolate shop on the other side of town on the way home from the Alibi earlier that afternoon.

Everything was planned—now there was just one thing left to do.

Mickey grabbed the crumpled piece of paper he’d set on the bedside table, the one he’d been staring at all week. Fuck it. He grabbed a discarded pen from the windowsill, from the collection of pencils that Ian kept next to his notebooks.

Mickey sighed as he put the pen to the paper. Now comes the hard part.

part 1 is here! and part 3 is here!

#this has been such a fun lil distraction this week!!! #actual cute fluffy content coming friday lol #<3 #gallavich #gallavich fic #shameless #shameless fic #ian x mickey #ian and mickey

[thorne93]

The Stars Made Us (Part 1)

Prompt: In this world, you’re one of the “lucky” ones who got a soulmate, but what if the universe gives you more than you bargained for?

(Prompt challenge -- You live in a world where your soulmate can write on their skin and you will get the writing on your own and vice versa. Where they can wash away the ink on their own skin, however, the writing is forever scarred onto your skin until you meet face to face)

Word Count: 1857

Warnings: angst and language throughout

Notes: This was supposed to be for @sorryimacrapwriter and their challenge like a year ago, I think? I still loved the prompt though and have been working on this story for quite some time. This aesthetic was made by @dontshootmespence, thank you so much! Beta’d by @like-a-bag-of-potatoes, couldn’t have done it without you, as well as @carryonmyswansong and @arrow-guy and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo

Also, I’ve never really liked the whole soulmate AU thing idea, but this felt so right and it was amazing to write. I hope y’all love it too!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ever since you were little, you’d heard the legends. The legend of soulmates. It was as common as Santa Claus or winning the lottery. Some weren’t sure they believed it, because although it was real, it was so rare that people didn’t know how to feel about it. Perhaps it was like believing in ghosts. Documented cases, proof, eye witness accounts weren’t enough to sway some skeptics. Yet, it had to be real because there was a registry, much like when you go to get your license or file a birth certificate or a social security number. There was a system in place to keep track of soulmates.

While others, mainly hopeless romantics, truly believed in soulmates. You heard whispers of it when people talked of their grandparents “perfect marriage” and how they just had to be soulmates. You’d heard some kids on the playground swear their cousin just got their soulmate. 

Now, it wasn’t for everyone. It was a rarity, and much like winning the lottery, it only happened to a select few. 

The few were seemingly random. Everyone from celebrities and CEOs down to starving artists and people who managed grocery stores. It touched all races, religions, and economic status. It was global. It wasn’t unheard of for a South American woman to be mated with a French man. Or one Australian to find their mate within Africa. 

Stories of epic journeys to find their love and mate had been told as bedtime stories. Heart wrenching stories of soulmates who never got to be together. 

The idea of soulmates was so endowed in the world and in history that it was rare enough to be celebrated, but common enough to be easily accepted. That’s why, when people walked with scars all over their body, formed in words, people didn’t even think twice.

That’s how it worked. On people’s 18th birthday, their soulmate was assigned, if they had one. Writing on any part of your skin would show up on your mate’s skin as a scar, and vice-versa. For two days out of the year, their birthdays, they could communicate this way. 

The only downside was that you couldn’t give out your information to your mate -- that part was up to the universe. When they needed you most, their name and address would show up on your arm. It could be life or death, it could be a mental breakdown, it could be that they’re hurt and need a friend. But until then, you shouldn’t share personal information. People had done it before, met their mates before the universe decided it was time, and awful things tended to happen. 

But if they were patient enough, willing enough to wait for the right day, it would all be worth it and they were usually guaranteed a happy life. 

Even though you grew up with this knowledge, you’d let it fall to the wayside in your mind. School and friendships took precedence, and you led your life normally. Every now and again, like on birthdays, a fleeting thought of the prospect of a soulmate would run through your head, but for the most part, you filed it away as a fantasy. 

That was, until your best friend Jenny reminded you of it on your 18th birthday.

You were having a party at your house. A group of about ten friends and you went out and played mini-golf, then had pizza at your house with cake and gifts, then watched a new movie. Your parents gave you money to buy a lottery ticket for fun, and gave you some money for college. 

Nearly everyone had gone home, and your parents already wished you a happy birthday with hugs and kisses before going off to bed. All that was left were you and Jenny, and she was about to walk out the door.

“I’m just saying, you’re 18 now,” she stated as she walked. 

“Yeah, I gathered that when I counted 18 candles on the cake, what’s your point?” you asked with a smile.

“My point is, maybe you should try and see if you’ve got a soulmate.” 

You shook your head and rolled your eyes. “Jenny, the odds of me having a soulmate are like 1 in a million. It’s a silly idea.”

“That’s been true. You know it and I know it. What’s the harm in finding out? I just had a cousin last year that found out. She wrote some appointment down when she was 21, her soulmate got it and wrote back.” 

You perched an eyebrow at her. “How romantic.” 

“I’m serious! Come on, how cool would it be?” 

“It would be kind of neat,” you admitted sheepishly, grinning. “But if no one writes back--”

“Then you haven’t lost anything, and you’ll find someone great later in life. No harm, no foul. Right?” She gave you that super convincing gorgeous smile before dropping her pushiness. “Alright, alright. Just think about it, okay? Happy birthday,” she said before hugging you tightly. 

“Thanks,” you said back.

With that, you cleaned up the kitchen and living room, gathered your gifts, and headed up to bed.  You pulled on your pajamas and crawled into your bed, you sat there, thinking about what Jenny had said.

What would be the harm in writing on your arm? If no one spoke back, it was no big deal, right? 

But if they didn’t write back, would you be saddened? You’d always secretly hoped you had a soulmate out there, so to find out you didn’t have one would be a little devastating. Of course, your life wouldn’t be over, and like Jenny said, you could always find a partner just like you normally would. 

Ultimately, it was just a schoolgirl fantasy… but what if it wasn't? you wondered idly as you sat with your leg propped up on the bed. 

You grabbed a pen off your nightstand and took a deep breath, trying to think of the best thing to ask - this would be scarred on them indefinitely after all. 

You thought, and you thought, pondering anything you could say. But what do you say to a potential soulmate? Finally, you decided there was no perfect way to go about this, and you put your pen to your arm, writing: Is anyone out there? 

You held your breath for a second, wondering if you’d get a scar somewhere in response, even bracing for some form of pain, but after a few moments -- nothing. Nothing happened. 

You sighed. Well, it was a long shot anyway.

After lying in bed disappointed for a while, a feather light sensation came crawling across your arm. You frowned for a split second before glancing down and seeing the letters. Instantly, a grin grew wide across your face. 

“Hi there. : )” 

You wanted to jump for joy. Immediately, your heart soared at the sight. Someone out there was actually fated to be yours? You couldn’t believe this. Why you? You weren’t special. 

“This is my email, if you would like to talk more,” you offered, scribbling on your skin before adding in your email. You opted for email since any other form of communication you might be tempted to find out their name.

Within two minutes, a ping noise came from your computer. You sprang from your bed, not even caring that you were the epitome of a school girl right that second. You dashed the cursor over to your inbox and read the new email. 

“Hello. So I suppose this means we’re soulmates...”

“I suppose it does,” you wrote back, a giant grin on your face. 

“We should probably get some of the formalities out of the way. What should I call you? How old are you?” 

“You can call me… Y/F/I. And I’m 18, today is my birthday. I’m sure you’ve heard the stories of people giving out their information before their time. I think we should stick to initials.” 

One minute later, in the same penmanship, you felt something on your bicep -- Happy Birthday

The smile on your face lit back up. 

“That’s my gift to you. And yes, I have heard of the stories. I would rather be safe than sorry as well. You can call me X. I’m 21. I’m in college, actually in graduate school.”

“Wow, that’s amazing. You’re already in grad school? How? What’s your area of study? I’m going into college in the fall - psychology.” 

“I think I should be surprised, but I’m not. That’s what my PhD will be in,” he informed. “As well as genetics and biophysics.” 

Well, the universe is funny, isn’t it? 

You continued to read his message. 

“Long story short, I graduated college at 16. Harvard, if you can believe it.”

Instantly, you were hit with a wave of surprise and shock. Your soulmate was a genius? He was a Harvard grad at 16? In what universe was that possible?

“That’s… really impressive. God I wish I could do that. It’d be amazing to be already done with college. I haven’t even gone there yet but it seems like a lot of work and a lot of stress. Hopefully, the pay off will be worth it though.” 

“What are you wanting to do with your degree?”

“Psychiatry.”

“A noble profession.” 

“I think so. I’d like to help people, as corny as that sounds.”

“I don’t think it sounds corny at all. Quite admirable, in fact. If people didn’t feel that way, we wouldn’t have good people in the world.”

He already thought you were a good person? you wondered, warmth spreading over you.

“I guess that is one way to look at it. I just want to help people and be a voice for people who don’t exactly have a lot of advocates.”

“That’s precisely why we get into these professions, darling,” he wrote.

Darling? Wow, so far, this guy was the jackpot. 

“I suppose it is. So what are some of your favorite books, if you don’t mind me asking? And movies. I feel like a quick way to get to know someone pretty well is through their interests.”

“Indeed it is,” he replied. “I happen to favor T.H. White’s The Once and Future King, as far as books go and I don’t particularly have time for many films.”

“Oh, I see,” you started, and then explained your favorite books and film. 

He had asked you why you liked those and you went into a rather lengthy explanation of why you enjoyed them more than others. After that you two talked music, actually having quite a lot in common there. 

You stayed up all night emailing, until the sun came up. It wasn’t until the glare hit your computer screen that you realized it, either. You didn’t want to end the magical evening, but you did need rest, and you were sure as a grad student, he needed all he could get as well. 

That morning you went to sleep with this newfound relief. It was one less thing you’d have to worry about in life. Worry about finding a mate, a partner for life. They were already there, already perfect, already waiting…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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Charles Xavier

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#the stars made us #charles xavier x reader #charles xavier fic #charles xavier #stephen strange x reader #stephen strange fic #stephen strange

[quokkacore]

LIBERALITY: starshine [oh sehun] (m)

part II of all your gods are fake

summary: sehun gives you what he can, but it’s never easy. you have to work for it as well, but effort pays off, and he rewards you so kindly.

pairing: freedomfighter!sehun x reader

genre: smut, angst, fluff, light horror towards the end?

warnings: language, descriptions of war, descriptions of cults, mentions of violence, shibari, thigh riding, handjobs, reader has nipple piercings, sensory deprivation (blindfolds and ties), seizures, knives

song rec: rosalia & ozuna - yo x ti, tu x mi ♡ taemin - never forever

word count: 4.3k

a/n: this was originally posted to my old writing blog on may 9th, 2020. if you would like to be on the taglist, pls send me an ask or a message! <3 

masterlist

He was getting agitated. You could tell this much.  

It was already bad enough that the meeting so far had lasted for over an hour and a half, but now the tension of the situation was finally settling in, as everyone realized that it was finally here.

The last stronghold. Or so they believed. Or so he believed.

The meeting was only for the highest ranking officials of the resistance, people who The Brotherhood knew they could trust—the plan was far too important to risk it falling into the hands of The Sect of Seven at the hands of double agents.

The plan that, if executed correctly, could turn the tides and cause the downfall of the Sect.

You watched, leaning against the wall as Junmyeon, leader of The Brotherhood and face of the resistance towered over the war table, talking about possible strategies to take the last major neutral city and also take control of the country.

The Sect of Seven had existed for years before the war began—its existence spanned across centuries, millenia, even; dating back to the year The Prophecy of Brothers Alike was first proclaimed in the late twelfth century, and remained strong even almost a whole century after The Great Collapse of 2050, when global society had collapsed due to war, famine and climate disasters.

Then the war broke out, some ten years ago, when the first two brothers of the Fated Fourteen first made themselves known, springing the Sect’s violent plans into action.

Since then, the resistance had been built up by The Brotherhood’s efforts, both capturing strategic cities and territories across North America. The Sect was based in the desert, with the Sanctuary based in what was once Los Angeles, their control spanning across what was western Mexico, the american south, and half of the northwest.

The resistance was based higher north, in the Citadel, which used to be Chicago, territories consisting of parts of southern Canada, the rockies, the northern midwest and what remained of the Peninsula of Yucatan. Places like Greenland, the southern east coast and northern canadian territories had either been destroyed during the collapse or had since been reclaimed by extreme climate and nature.

The only major territory that remained uncaptured by either sides, the place where many had fled to avoid getting caught in the crossfire, was the northern west coast, and that was controlled by Washington DC.

The very spot the resistance was now planning to take.

Your eyes floated up towards Sehun, who was standing right next to Junmyeon, who was now listening to Chanyeol and Baekhyun discuss the logistics of a peaceful invasion.

“Overall, I think we still need time to form a solid strategy,” Baekhyun said, “Jongdae needs to get in contact with The Agate Sisters for some more weapons—”

“Which is not very easy, might I add—” Jongdae interjected.

“And even before that…” Junmyeon’s voice was loud, taking command of the situation, “Sehun.”

All eyes in the room fell to the youngest member of The Brotherhood.

Oh Sehun. The Oracle.

Sehun had become known to the world two years after Suho and Junmyeon were proclaimed the first two brothers of the prophecy, the same time as his twin brother. Being so young, his ability of both interpreting and creating prophecies was a sight to behold, both terrifying and morbidly fascinating.

You’d known him since he and his brother were children, before the three of you realized what the future held in store—pain and suffering for Sehun and you, and nothing but pleasure and debauchery for Sehün.

“Do you think you could consult with the spirits for a minor prophecy? Or any other interpretations of the prophecy?”

Sehun shifted in his stance, leaning back and forth. “I need time.” His voice was firm and gravelly as he crossed his arms, immersed in thought. “My most recent auguries have revealed to me that DC is the last stronghold that the prophecy is talking about. But I can’t be a hundred percent sure. Prophecies love to play mind games. We all know that.”  

“Is there anything we have to be wary of when it comes to the prophecy? Double entendres, stuff like that?” Yixing asked, even though everyone in the room had heard the god-forsaken prophecy more than enough times throughout the past few years.

Sehun sighed, but closed his eyes and nodded anyway. A dramatic tension settled over the room, and Sehun began to speak.

“Cometh a day when seven sets of twins, be opposite ends of both virtue and sin—why am I going over this again, we all know this,” He huffed.

“Please just continue,” Baekhyun mumbled.

“Ugh, fine. Bearing eyes of blue and eyes of brown, cometh to tear the last stronghold down—” Sehun rolled his eyes, frustration evident in his expression. “The term stronghold has always been somewhat questionable. The prophecy was first declared in 1176, right? Early Modern English wouldn’t become a thing for another three hundred years, so most of this stems from Middle English. Some interpret stronghold as fort, or base, or holy land…”

Jongdae raised his hand before speaking, eyes flashing in alarm as he interrupted Sehun’s tangent. “Wait, wait, if others have translated it as holy land, then—”

“The Sanctuary.”

Junmyeon’s voice was quiet, but still commanded a heavy presence across the room, as a profound silence spread across the space.

“That means that the final battle could be in Los Angeles, on their turf. That would put us at a major disadvantage. We’re already at a major disadvantage.” The leader’s eyebrows were furrowed, using both hands to lean on the table as he made the connection.

The dread that followed was thick and suffocating, and you took the opportunity to speak up, wishing to rid the room of the anxiety gathering.

“But think about the implications of fighting the final battle in The Sanctuary. It would have to mean that we’ve managed to push them back sufficiently to the point where we feel confident invading their home base. Which we wouldn’t do unless we knew that we had a high possibility of winning.”

All eyes fell to you, and you crossed your arms, before meeting Sehun’s gaze. The look in his eyes was something akin to gratitude, being able to lift the sudden darkness. You lifted your hand to gesture back at Sehun. “Continue.”

He nodded, gaze stern. “Perhaps lovers lost to a most wicked brother, bringeth vengeance and hellfire upon one another… Loss could mean one of two things. Betrayal or death. But the rest of those two lines imply that the side that does the taking will suffer because of what they’ve done. That means that for now, none of us lay hands on any of the Sanctuary Queens, and those of us who have them, keep our partners close… Beware ye who heed this, for I warn thee now: suffer shall those who carelessly bow.”

“It has to be them,” A girl, Sasha, declared, “They’ve been lying to their followers for years—”

“That could mean anything. You know that.” Sehun’s voice was rough, eyes trained on the map that had been carved into the table.

A silence hung over the room, tension palpable as everyone remembered what the stakes were. These were lives and people’s free wills on the line, indescribable anguish promised by a prophecy written centuries ago to people who didn’t truly know their leaders. The end was near, but the outcome was nowhere near foreseeable.

“I’ll… I’ll try and do some more smoke readings.” It struck you how tired he sounded, watching as he rubbed his eyes with his thumb and index finger, “Maybe I’ll ask the spirit of the Oracle for a specific prophecy on DC. For now, we just have to be cautious. Watch for any suspicious activity here in the citadel and listen to intelligence reports. Jongin, you’ve got your moles at the Sanctuary, right?”

Jongin nodded, gaze dark. “Yeah. I’m meeting with Ren in two weeks. She’s the best of the best. I’ll see what she has for us.”

Junmyeon straightened his posture, everyone quieting when he opened his mouth to speak.

“I think that’s enough worrying about that for today,” He declared, sounding grim, “Before we go, you all know that not a single word is to leave this room. This is highly classified information. Meeting adjourned.”

You watched everyone file out of the room, hoping to speak to Sehun, yet somehow didn’t catch when he left. You got the feeling that that was what he intended.

So you left too, resolving to see him that night.

—

Sehun’s room was easy to find, seeing as how it was right across the hall from yours, in the large apartment building the heads of the resistance had settled into. You knocked on his door, sighing when you didn’t hear any response. You tried one more time, then another time, finally a third time, before letting your head fall frustratedly against the wood of the door.

“Hun, I know you’re in there… please let me in.”

You heard muffled sounds of shuffling from behind the door, pulling your head away to lean it against the doorframe. Waiting, you strained your ears for a noise, hearing the occasional sound.

Eventually, you heard the telltale sound of heavy footsteps being dragged across the floor. You pursed your lips, waiting for the door to open, wondering what you would see when it did.

The door swung open slowly, and you were met with a tall figure, hunched over as he peered down at you. The exhaustion in his gaze was palpable, and you felt your heart clench in sympathy.

Sehun was 25 now. He was made known to the public some nine years ago, and on top of it all, he was the Oracle. Interpretations of any and all prophecies were up to him, a sixteen year old boy who had just discovered he was destined to spend the rest of his life fighting against his own brother, something that tore his family apart.

He was a child.

And now, here he stood, looking too worn, too hopeless for someone so young. His eyes had seen horrors he was much too young to see. Life had eaten away at the glow he’d had when you were both younger. The dark circles underneath his eyes were so pronounced, you’d think he hadn’t slept since he was a baby. His short, dark hair was greasy. You wondered if he’d been taking care of himself properly.

“Do you need anything?” His voice was raspy, quiet. You looked at him, brown eyes met yours. Your heart clenched. Here he was, mentally exhausted, and the first thing he said to you wasn’t a hello, but rather, asking quietly if you needed anything.

“Can I come inside?” You asked sheepishly, and he blinked for a second, before nodding, opening the door more for you to pass. “Go ahead.”

You stepped past him, into the hallway of his small apartment. The smell of incense invaded your nose, and you frowned. He closed the door, and crossed his arms. “What’s going on, Y/N?”

“Are you okay? You looked so tired today, you look tired now.”

“I’m fine—"

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

You refused to let him keep it all to himself. “Sehun…”

He leaned against the wall, head bowed, and you mirrored his stance, standing against the wall as well, but you didn’t look away. “Y/N, I can’t deal with that right now. People need me.”

“Sehun, you can’t force yourself like this, you’ve told me that yourself—"

“I have to make this work. I can’t fail like last time, not if DC is what we think it is.”

You sighed, taking a step forward, resting a hand on his arm. He glanced at it briefly, then raised his head to look at you. You said nothing, but guided him to sit down on the couch, and you sat next to him.

“Sehun,” You said, voice quiet, “DC is nothing but puppets right now pretending they’re actually doing anything. We have our puppets, the sect have theirs. You can’t be sure that a place like that is what determines whether we’re doomed or not. You said it yourself, there are so many possibilities that DC isn’t the place we’re thinking about.”

He took a few deep breaths, nodding to your words before rubbing his eyes with his thumb and index finger. He looked strained, and you moved to sit closer to him.

“Everything is so fucked up,” Sehun whispered, and you nodded in agreement. “I feel like everything is out of control. Like I can’t do anything about it. Meanwhile, Sehün—"

“Sehün has people who think he’s a god obeying his every whim, just like the rest of those—those idiots.“ Your voice was quiet, but firm, refusing to allow him to compare himself to his brother, "The only reason they look so polished and seem to have everything under control is they only leave the Sanctuary when they absolutely need to, to save face. They feel like they’re above everyone else.”

You took Sehun’s hand, carefully removing his worn, black glove before cradling it in your smaller hand, as if it were incredibly fragile. His eyes met yours, and you gave him a sad smile.

“The Brotherhood, on the other hand… You only use that title for formality’s sake. Yes, you’re all the leaders, but you see yourselves as equal to the rest of us. All of you are out there with us, on the front lines. You’re tired because you give everything you have to serve this cause, my love. You feel that everything is out of control because… well, it is. Lady Fate is a tricky one, we all know that. But you feel it even more because you’re dealing with it head on, not from some sparkly throne on a golden pedestal.”

Sehun’s eyes glittered with several emotions you couldn’t pinpoint, but you could see fondness in them. He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Starshine,” He mumbled into your hair, before resting his chin on the crown of your head, “Where would I be without you.”

You hummed, before allowing your eyes to flutter shut, and the two of you sat in silence for what seemed like hours. You reflected back to when you and Sehun both realized your feelings for one another, after a devastating battle in Salt Lake City where Sehun had given his brother the now infamous scar running down the left side of his face, some six years ago. He’d come so close to dying that day, and you’d realized just how important he was to you.

You’d been joined by the hip since you were children, and when the revelation came that he and Sehün were the brothers of liberality and greed respectively, you didn’t hesitate in taking his side, vowing to follow him until the bitter end.

It all made sense to you when you came to Sehun’s sickbed, seeing him resting and bloodied, that you’d actually been in love with the boy for a long time, perhaps ever since you’d first met him. You wouldn’t ever be able to live without him, and apparently, he felt the same way.

In this moral crisis, you were his anchor, his tether to the corporeal plane when his world was on an ethereal one.

Upon all the doubts that everyone had, as to whether the Fated Fourteen were truly gods or if they were simply men with delusions of grandeur chosen by Lady Fate for her cruel entertainment, he felt that you were what reminded him that he was human, that past gods were never truly capable of love or real emotion.

To be capable of loving you was a humbling experience, one that he treasured dearly, especially in moments like this.

“Do you remember what we did the last time you felt like you had no control?” Your voice was a whisper, full of promise and anticipation, as the hand that wasn’t holding his own came to ghost over his thigh. Sehun’s breath hitched, recalling the experience. Roughness against soft, supple skin, restraint and control, you giving yourself entirely to him before he gave himself entirely to you.

“What exactly are you proposing?” He murmured, and you exhaled as one would when they found something amusing, the ghost of a laugh. “You know what I’m proposing, Sehun. Don’t act as if I haven’t seen you teaching Chanyeol to tie his knots when he’s getting ready to go out on a field mission.”

His hand tugged yours towards him, and you moved as he sat back, resting his back against the couch as he helped you straddle his waist. You faced him, realizing with a giggle that he’d turned slightly pink at your accusation.

“Do me a favor,” He said, and you nodded, letting your free hand rest on his shoulder. “Never talk about Chanyeol when you’re trying to get me into bed again. You are the sexiest thing I’ve ever laid my eyes on… Chanyeol, however, is the most unsexy person I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.”

Your head tipped back with laughter, and he joined in with you. Your heart, upon hearing this, skipped a beat. You had a hard time recalling when the last he’d laughed was. “I think Sasha would disagree.”

“Yeah, but Sasha isn’t here now, is she? It’s just you and me.” He leaned forward, trapping your waist with his hands and letting his face come close to yours. You watched his eyes flutter down to watch your lips, inches away from yours. You gulped when his lips parted, his tongue peeking out to lick the pink skin.

“So you want me to tie you up. Take control.”

Your hands wrapped around his neck, and you smiled. “Only if you want to tie me up. I want you to have at least one thing you feel you can control.”

Sehun licked his lips again, sighing in amusement as he considered the idea. “Y’know, a few weeks ago, some of the field officers came in with a bunch of fabric they managed to smuggle out of LA…” His tone was quiet, and his hands began trailing downwards, pulling you against him, voice filling you with anticipation. Comfortable fabric was so difficult to come by these days, given that the Sect had taken what were once lavish city districts.

You gasped slightly when your core came into contact with his lap, feeling he was already starting to get hard, and felt your face heat up.  

“I might’ve bought a silk tie or two off of ‘em,” He told you, eyes burning holes into your skin, “Wanted to see what my starshine would look like in pink.”

Your felt your hands tighten of their own volition against the fabric of his black t-shirt, your mind conjuring the mental image. “Fuck, Sehun. W-where’s the jute?”

He flashed a lopsided grin, and you felt the need to smack the smug look off of his face. How he could go from being so serious to this, was beyond you. You personally didn’t believe that The Brotherhood and The Lords of the Sect were gods, but Sehun’s duality, in situations like this, seemed to be supernatural at times, if you dared say so yourself.

He pressed his lips to yours briefly, before lightly nudging you to get off of his lap. “I’ll go get it, baby. Give me a second.”

He stood, catching his breath briefly, before walking down the hall, towards his closet. The hallway was slightly darker, and you stood, striding over to him as he pulled out the rope. He turned to face you, and he quickly cornered you against the wall.

“Shirt off. Bra, too.”

You grinned. “What are you gonna do this time?”

You could vaguely make out his features, but you knew his face was probably twisted up in smug satisfaction. Regardless, you obeyed silently, your chest rising and falling quickly with anticipation.

“Chest harness, for now,” He quipped, “Is that okay?”

You nodded, not breaking eye contact with him as you undressed yourself. You wanted him to realize that you weren’t backing down.

He seemed to read you perfectly, nodding in response to your answer as he watched you pull off the dark fabric, before reaching behind you to unclasp your bra. Even in the dim light of the corridor, you could see how his eyebrows raised and the way his lips parted slightly, lazy gaze falling down to your breasts. You knew what he was gawking at.

The studs embedded in your nipples were a dark stainless steel, glittering, alluring. You’d gotten them on a whim at nineteen from some clandestine tattoo artist on the way back from a field operation. He’d always had a bit of a fascination with them, the way they seemed to twinkle at him underneath the light.

"You gonna stare at me all night or will I have to tie myself up?”

Your playful jab snapped him out of his reverie, and he straightened his posture a few seconds later. “Go stand in front of the bed.” His voice was soft, but still commanding.

You stalked into the dark bedroom, standing in front of where you made the bed out to be. He followed you, before standing behind you. “Are you going to tie my hands up, too?"

"Not yet, starshine,” He declared quietly, into your left ear. You could tell he was untangling the jute, and you pursed your lips in anticipation. “You want to know what I’m about to do to you?”

“You know I do,” You whispered, a confession just for him, before lifting your arms and your hair for him to work.

“Too bad,” He sighed, ”Because I’m not telling you.”

You huffed, but didnt protest.

His arms began to wrap the rope below your ribcage, tightening the jute to the point where you could feel it digging into your skin, but enough to complicate your breathing. Taut, but not torturous. You closed your eyes, sighing quietly as he looped the jute higher up this time, just between your breasts and your collarbones, wrapping back to where he began, in the middle of your back.

The sensation of the rough fibers against your skin was by no means comfortable. It was scratchy and some stray fibers tickled at your chest. But its presence against your skin, the implications of its position and what was to come, was most definitely comforting. Intimacy with Sehun now was rare, you rarely even slept next to each other. But you knew that it wasn’t because of a strain in your relationship.

Sehun had always needed peace of mind and silence when it came to auguries and prophecy readings. Now, with the war coming so close to what seemed to be the end, he needed it more than ever, and the moments you shared with him came to a pause. You didn’t complain—the cause came before your emotions, now and always. But inside you were crying out for him; in concern, in longing, in yearning.

So maybe that’s why when he paused his ministrations and chuckled, tracing a finger down his spine, you whimpered quietly, thighs rubbing together in anticipation. “You have goosebumps,” He said, lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

“It’s been a while,” You answered, and he hummed in response, pressing a soft kiss to your nape. You sighed at the sensation.

“Drop your arms, and turn around to look at me,” Sehun whispered a few seconds later, and with some help from him to maneuver through the rope he was still trying to tie around you, you were able to complete his request.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous.” His voice was throaty, eyes scanning your body as you did the same, eyes landing on the growing bulge in his pants.

“Sehun, please just hurry.”

He shook his head, crooked smile still gracing his face. His hands worked quickly, looping the jute underneath the lowest rope, between your breasts.

“It’s not too tight, is it?” He asked, and you shook your head.

“It’s fine. Not too tight, not too loose.”

He nodded, eyebrows furrowing in concentration. “Okay. Let me know if it becomes too much at any point.”

“I know, Hun.”

Sehun’s dark eyes lifted their gaze from where his hands were working to meet your own, not saying anything. By now, the smile had faded, replaced by a stern look of concentration.

Be still, my heart, you thought, he is so beautiful.

“What?” You whispered, and he blinked.

His response was soft, gentle. “I would fucking die for you.”

You felt your face grow warm, and you lowered your gaze. “Sehun,” You murmured, “I—”

“Sh, sh,” He answered, continuing to tie the rope, “Listen to me, starshine. You’re it for me. There’s never been anyone else. A-and if anything happens, Lady Fate forbid it… There’ll never be anyone else.”

He finished his words as he tied off the final knot, and silently, you stood there, eyes shut as you pressed your forehead to his. For how long, you weren’t sure. Seconds, minutes, eons… Maybe no time had passed at all. You didn’t really care. Moments like these were never long enough, they always ended too soon. Sehun was your elixir of life, your lifeline, and in these moments, you felt immortal, invincible, powerful.

To be able to bring such a man like him to his knees, to be so ready to put himself on the line for you; you were sure it would be your ruin.

You surged forward, wrapping your arms around Sehun’s neck, and he caught you as you pressed your lips to his in a blazing kiss. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. You whined into the kiss, the dark cotton of his t-shirt pressing against your sensitive nipples and their piercings.

“Sehun,” You moaned into the kiss, reaching down to tug at the hem of his shirt. “N-not fair, take it off.”

He hummed, pulling away to comply with your protests, revealing toned skin and the broad shoulders you so adored.

“Is it fair now?” He asked, grabbing your upper arms to pull you closer and press kisses to your collarbones and along your sternum. “I should tie your hands now, maybe then you’ll learn you’re not allowed to touch without my permission.”

“Shut up,” You said, ignoring his declaration as he pushed you onto the bed. You peered up at his broad form, towering over you in the darkness, almost trembling in anticipation, waiting for him to put his hands on you, to make a move.

A few moments later, he finally did, reaching down to pull your pants off, as well as your underwear. He pressed soft kisses to your stomach as he did. When both garments were finally tossed aside, he lifted himself up onto the bed, lips trailing up across your skin. His eyes met yours as he gazed up at you, through you, before pressing his lips to one of your breasts, your sensitive nipples hardening at the contact of his warm mouth against the cool steel embedded in it.

Your head tipped back, eyes fluttering shut, unable to keep eye contact with your lover. One of your hands came up to comb through his dark hair, whimpering as he alternated between your nipples.

“Sehun, mmph, baby…” You murmured, coming back to look at him when he let go and came back to kiss at your jawline.

“Up, starshine,” He ordered, leaving no room for protest, arms wrapping around your waist and hauling you up to sit on his lap. As you squirmed to get comfortable in his grip, one of his hands reached for his nightstand’s drawer, and he pulled out two pastel pink silk ties. Your heart leaped towards your throat in excitement when you registered what these were, hips subconsciously searching for friction against his.

“Sit still,” He huffed as he closed the drawer, before straightening his posture, dwarfing you even sitting beneath you.

Wordlessly, he brought the tie up to your eyes, covering them before tying it at the back of your head with one tie, quickly doing the same to your hands with the other, tying them tightly in front of you.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty,” He mumbled, hands raking from your hair to down your back.

His hands came to grasp at your thighs, propping them so they rested only atop one of his. You felt your core clench at what he was alluding to, inhaling sharply.

“Move your hips, baby,” He said, and you couldn’t bring it in you to deny him.

Another thing you couldn’t do was speak, you found, as you prayed you could maintain your balance and began to slowly rock your hips against the rough fabric of his dark pants and his toned thigh, your bare pussy rubbing listlessly against the coarse fabric. You didn’t mind however, perfectly content to let him speak, murmuring strange hybrids of dirty and sweet things in your ear.

The hot pleasure between your legs seemed to double at the restriction in your ribs and not being able to see or anticipate where his hands or mouth were. You buried your head into the crook of Sehun’s neck, peppering wet, opened kisses against his collarbones, your nails digging into your palms with a vengeance in hopes of anchoring yourself to something.

The movements of your hips soon became capricious, rhythmless, your whimpers becoming louder and louder as he switched between flexing his thigh and bouncing it like a restless child. In the darkness of the silk tie, you could feel the callousness of his fingertips as they dug into your hips, a guided meditation through your pleasure.

The room reeked of incense and sex, you realized as you attempted to delay your slowly building release by focusing on different things. Smells, sounds, and finally, Sehun.

This was the Sehun you loved most, the one you cherished most in your heart. The Sehun that was so willing to give, give, and give, but not to the point of recklessness, unlike the Sehun you had seen so often lately in the war room. This Sehun was yours, and yours only. And if the growing wet spot against his rough pants was any indication, then your body loved this Sehun as well.

“S-Sehun.”

“Hmm?”

“P-please let me touch you.”

“Alright, since you asked so nicely.”

You clumsily began to search for his hard bulge, and he grabbed your tied hands and guided them to something hard and hot. You jumped slightly in surprise, not realizing he had taken himself out of his pants while you were humping away at his thigh like a bitch in heat.

He laughed at your squirming, and you slowed the rhythm of your hips in annoyance, but not completely—your hips had stopped folding to you, subconsciously rutting, twitching gently against the rough, now ruined fabric, perpetually searching for release.

“S-shut up,” You panted, and he laughed again, pressing another kiss to your jawline.

“You shut up. I still have to make you come.”

His hands resumed their leisurely movement on your hips, your focus snapping back to the impending edge, thoughts blurring into incoherency as the pleasure against your core. Mindlessly, you let go of Sehun’s member to bring your hands up to your mouth, attempting to spit crudely in order to improvise lube.

Instead, your heart jumped into your throat in arousal when Sehun grabbed your free hand and did the same, keening at his actions, eyebrows furrowing. And, despite feeling a slight annoyance at the chafing of your thighs, a feral instinct took over, and your hips sped up against his thighs.

“You look perfect like this,” He told you, guiding your hand back to where he needed you most, and you began to pump him slowly. His hands moved to wrap around your waist, large hands splaying possessively across your back.

“Gods, I wish you could see how lovely you look, starshine,” He mumbled, seemingly in a daze, “All mine.”

You nodded. “Y-yours, Hunnie. Only yours.”

He pressed a kiss to your collarbone, his breath picking up as your hands did the same, pace speeding up. He groaned against your skin as you pressed your thumb into the slit of his cock. Your movements were harsh, jerking against him as you felt yourself losing yourself in his touch.

“S-Sehun, I’m gonna…”

“I’ve got you,” He whispered, his voice your only anchor, “Let go, Y/N, it’s okay.”

Finally, finally, you crested, head tipping back, mouth falling open in a silent scream, body stiffening in his arms as you were possessed by pleasure. In the dark, colors danced around you, sounds could be touched, Sehun’s hands on your body tasted exquisite.

You didn’t even realize that your display had tipped Sehun over the edge, spilling himself onto your hands while he gripped your shoulders like his life depended on it.

When you came down from your orgasm, your chest heaving, you reached up to pull the blindfold off of your face, struggling slightly as you were still restrained by the silk tie. You blinked a few times, eyes adjusting to the light of Sehun’s room, and found that he had fallen back onto the bed in the height of his orgasm.

His eyes had fluttered closed, panting furiously. He seemed loose, almost boneless, and you stifled a laugh at how much more relaxed he seemed now.

“I take it you had fun?” You asked, poking his stomach teasingly. After a moment of silence, of what you assumed to be Sehun trying to catch his breath, you furrowed your eyebrows.

“Hunnie, come on, get up. Can you untie me, please, baby?”

No response. If anything, Sehun’s pants seemed to be getting even heavier.

“Sehun?”

His eyes fluttered open, and your blood ran cold.

His eyes had rolled up into his head, mouth opening and closing as if he were trying to say something but he’d lost his voice. Around you, the temperature seemed to drop.Out of nowhere, the scent of incense returned, stronger than ever, and beneath you, Sehun tensed, muscles contracting as he began to seize.

You froze, momentarily unsure of what was happening. Here lay your lover, convulsing under you, and you were restrained to a point where it would be difficult to help him. Panic creeped into your stomach, eyes searching for something, anything, that would get you out of the grasp of the silk tie. You brought your wrists up to your teeth, frantically hoping to loosen the knot. Sehun was still convulsing. Your eyes drifted around the room, glancing at his stiff hands, gnarled into unrecognizable gestures. Your clothes were on the floor, but you had left your knife in your room.

Knife. Sehun’s knife.

You lunged for the nightstand, knowing that was where he kept his switchblade in case of an emergency, tumbling to the floor as your legs gave out, still wobbly from both panic and your previous orgasm. You managed to open the drawer, clumsily fumbling for the blade, before pulling it out, holding it between your teeth and bringing your wrists up to your mouth, beginning to saw away at the lovely, pale fabric, suddenly not caring about its softness or its illusion of luxury.

All you needed was to know that Sehun was okay.

Your eyes squeezed shut at the thought that he might be dying, and when the final strands of silk finally gave way, you practically spat out the knife, grabbing onto the nightstand for balance, turning to look at Sehun on your weak legs.

He wasn’t on the bed anymore. Your eyebrows furrowed, head spinning as you tried to figure out what was going on.

“Beware the master of tongues.”

You shrieked, eyes snapping up from where the deep, almost demonic voice had come from, and almost fainted then and there.

Because somehow, Sehun was floating above you, suspended in midair, eyes open wide but not a sliver of brown could be seen. In its place shone a bright silver, the holiest of metals for the unholiest sight.

“Beware the master of tongues,” The voice spoke again, speaking through Sehun, who was stiff as a board, face contorted into a sneer, and you realized with a chill that this wasn’t Sehun, but rather the Oracle.

“Beware the master of tongues,” He said once more, as his sneer morphed into a cruel grin, “But beware more the wrath of the faceless one.”

#kpop scenarios #kpop smut #kpop imagines #kpop x reader #kpop au #exo x reader #exo scenarios #exo smut #exo imagines #sehun x reader #sehun smut #sehun scenarios #my writing #fic: aygaf

[se0kie]

chapter 5: seamlessly

pairing: taehyung x reader

genre: fluff

tags/warnings: sickeningly fluffy, tae is so whipped for y/n

word count: 1.07k

greek gods au, poseidon!taehyung, marinebiologist!reader

summary: it’s difficult being a god. what with all the immortality, the decades bleeding into each other and losing every human being you come to care about. and taehyung’s lived, or whatever it is gods do, for a very, very long time. he thinks he needs help but the fates are being the mysterious, useless hags they’ve always been. how can a conservatory and it’s passionate, fiery owner possibly help him. turns out Y/N is the only mortal he’s met who’s ready to challenge him head on. of course it’s not like she knows her new intern is the king of the sea, maker of horses, the earthshaker, poseidon himself after all.

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Taehyung can hear your breathing next to him, your eyes are wide open and your hands are clasped in front of you as you look on at the scene in front of you.

A dozen or so turtles are slowly paddling their way towards the shore, their pointy heads poking out of their shells as their flippers splash at the water and sand. You recognise them as the ones who had arrived six weeks ago during their mating season.

Taehyung can sense the nervousness rolling off the turtles, they’re suspicious of humans and who can blame them? The delicate species is on the edge of extinction, very few green sea turtles remain on this planet thanks to the mighty humans and their greed. He scoffs internally at the pathetic state of the earth, someday he would wipe this realm clean of human beings and start again.

Someday.

Right now he was too busy staring at you from the corner of his eye. Absolutely not creepy.

He let his aura slowly ooze off him and float slowly towards the creatures in the water, the strong presence of their ruler easing the turtles’ minds as their pace fastened — they seemed eager to reach the sand now more than ever. He smiled internally at the change in behaviour of the reptiles, they really were some of the most adorable animals out there.

Now you were a different situation altogether; you were having difficulty keeping your emotions separate from your profession. You had never thought that you’d get to experience something like this in your lifetime.

Green sea turtles were a rarity in South Korea, much less the very beach you lived and worked on. Growing pollution, unstable temperatures due to global warming and the large number of predators made Hamdeok beach a very unlikely spot for turtle nesting.

But lo and behold, here you were witnessing the adorable group of soon-to-be mothers waddling towards the dry sand you and your small team were standing on. You had given out strict orders to the five interns and your friends Hobi and Jungkook. There were to be at least two people on guard at the beach at all times during the nesting and then later during the hatching. You would get every one of those eggs back into the ocean even if your life depended on it.

But for now the damned tears were refusing to back down, prickling at your eyes as they threatened to spill. You took a deep breath as you felt a warm hand on your cheeks, brushing the teardrops away before they ran off. You tilted your head towards the shaggy haired boy standing next to you, his eyes boring into yours as a lazy smile spread across his face.

“Thanks, Tae,” you whispered.

“Anything for you, Y/N,” he returned.

You and Taehyung are back at the beach a few days later, sitting together on the checkered blanket you’ve laid on the sand; your picnic basket in reach as you sip from the delicate glass.

“It’s done, in two more months we’re gonna be watching hundreds of little hatchlings run across shore, Y/N,” Taehyung says gently, eyes still focused on the retreating figures of the turtles waddling into the water.

You hum back in reply, the smile creeping up on your face helplessly as you take in the moment. The nesting had been truly one of the most special moments of your life, the mothers working hard to lay their eggs and hide them; and then waddling back to the water to get some much needed rest before they went back to shore to lay another clutch.

You sighed slowly remembering how you had taken your interns along to spend some time studying the turtles — one of them had even let you feed her seaweed from your hands. She also had a peculiar star shape on her head that you would later recognise as seeing somewhere before.

But meanwhile the dipping sun was casting it’s glow on your skin, Taehyung’s breath falling rhythmically on your neck as the bubbly ran down your throat. You turned your head to rest it against the crook of his neck, a strong arm wrapping around your waist.

You had grown closer than ever in the past month or two, slipping into a routine only the both of you knew to keep up with. A delicate bubble forming around you, encasing you in with the sandy haired boy you’ve come to appreciate.

Taehyung would never make it known but he loved observing you when you’re too engrossed in whatever task you’ve taken on for the day. Cleaning the aquariums, uploading statistics into the database or just simply cooking breakfast for the gang at your humble beach house.

He knows he’s fallen for you, something he hasn’t done in a very long time, but he also knows the fickle ways of man. Come on too strong and you just might flit away from his grasp, he knows he needs to take it slow, like a gentle summer current. So he has settled for joining you in the humdrum of daily life.

Seamlessly fitting into the spaces you’ve created, he’s the anchor holding you down silently as you do what you need to do.

You sigh in contentment, breathing gently and inhaling the plain, salty scent of Tae’s skin. You stare up at him, finding his eyes already trained on you the blush rises to your cheeks. Your gaze slowly runs down to the invitingly red tint of his lips as you feel your eyes flutter close on their own.

You’re waiting for him to take the hint and kiss you but the seconds stretch on and you’re almost disappointed and about to pull back and straighten yourself when quick as a feather, the slightest of touches falls on the open skin of your neck. The smallest of brushes yet you can’t suppress the pathetic sigh that falls from your lips.

You open your eyes again to look at the confusing man in front of you, a teasing smile resting on his face as he whispers, “Soon.”

It’s but one measly word yet the weight of a thousand promises manages to lie in anticipation. The two of you look back at the horizon, the bobbing shapes of the turtles like splotches on a painting are drifting far off, leaving you behind waiting for the day you get to see them again.

taglist: @a-kookie-with-my-tae @btsxdoll @taffyteffy @aesthetewriter @happyhrsme @yoongifiess @gia-the-mermaid

a/n: i hope you guys are ready to get to the good stuff ;) things are gonna get much better i promise !!!

#ficswithluv #btswritingcafe #bangtanarmynet #bts smut #taehyung smut #taehyung x reader #kim taehyung #taehyung fic #taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #bts v #taehyung #bts fic #bts fluff #bts angst #se0kie #greek gods au #poseidon