Baby Obi-Wan once stared so hard into the Force that he was never the same. Ever since he joined the creche the Masters knew there was something... off about the little one. They weren't quite sure what to think of the littlest of the younglings. He always seemed to know things he shouldn't and offered words that often intimidated padawans, knights, and even gained concerned expressions from seasoned masters.
The guards in the temple were less amused when he learned to properly shield himself. Gifted in the art of shielding, Obi-Wan tended to wander from his creche. Normally, a wandering youngling wouldn't be a problem. Where one youngling lingered, a sentinel was hiding in the shadows not too far away. Obi-Wan Kenobi, however, finds the right moment to slip away.
When questioned what he is doing so far from his creche, Obi-Wan always answers, "Force says so."
Qui-Gon keeps stumbling upon a small ginger boy when he finds himself alone. The first time was a memorable experience. It is, after all, the first time Qui-Gon met his future apprentice.
"What are you doing?" And the voice makes Qui-Gon pause in his walk. A youngling is staring at him from behind a pillar.
"Thinking," he answers honestly. The boy, probably no older than four or five, steps out and walks up to him, arms held out in demand to be picked up. Qui-Gon obliges and settles him on his hip, changing his destination to the creches. "Why aren't you with your creche?"
"The masters say I should listen to the Force. The Force says I should be here. With you."
Qui-Gon's lips quirk upward. "Is that so, little one? What else does it tell you?"
The youngling tilts his head, blue eyes shining. Qui-Gon feels like he isn't being seen despite the boy's eyes clearly on him. "Nothing you should know yet," the boy says.
Qui-Gon doesn't ask any more questions, too stumped to know what to ask the boy. The boy of course takes Qui-Gon's silence as his cue to talk. He offers his name as Obi-Wan Kenobi and tells him all about his friend Quinlan who sees things when he touches stuff and- "He doesn't see stuff when he holds my hand because my shields are good. Did you know the guards don't like it when I leave? Guard Feemor says I shield too hard."
And doesn't that take Qui-Gon by surprise. "Is that so?" Temple guards wore masks to protect their identities. Qui-Gon wasn't aware his former padawan took rotations as a guard.
Obi-Wan replies easily, "He doesn't know I know."
Qui-Gon quickly returns the youngling to his creche. The second escape and return allows Obi to decide he likes this master. It's the seventh escapade from their first meeting that the guards and creche masters and even passing jedi learn that when Obi-Wan goes missing he's with Qui-Gon.
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dean as a soldier in WWII is actually everything to me
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Chapters: 97/100
Fandom: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Relationships: Anders/Hawke, Anders/Female Hawke, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Characters: Hawke (Dragon Age), Female Hawke, Aveline Vallen, Leandra Hawke, Bethany Hawke, Varric Tethras, Carver Hawke, Isabela (Dragon Age), Donnic Hendyr, Anders (Dragon Age), Merrill (Dragon Age), Fenris (Dragon Age), Lirene (Dragon Age), Norah (Dragon Age), Zevran Arainai, Elissa Cousland, Alistair Theirin, Morrigan (Dragon Age)
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, mental health, Neurodivergent Character(s), Mental Illness, Music, Inspired by Music, Eventual Romance, Slow Burn, Mental Health Issues, Self-Harm, Suicide, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Smoking, Alcohol, Loss, Anxiety, Bipolar Disorder, Dissociation, Self-Medication, Past Abuse, PTSD, Eating Disorders, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Assault, Coping, Therapy, Karaoke, Modern Thedas, Eventual Smut, Obvious Metaphors, Referenced Child Abuse, institutionalization, chosen family, Depression, Autism, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Suicide Attempt, Substance Abuse, Derealization, Panic Attacks, Bipolar Episodes, Borderline Personality Disorder, Illness, Dysfunctional Family, Grief, Guilt, Survival, THE FOUND FAMILY TROPE IS SERIOUSLY EVERYTHING
Modern AU: Trista Hawke's name might almost be funny if it weren't quite so true, but through such accuracy and tragedy she's led towards family she never expected to find, towards healing and salvation she never could have believed she'd ever deserve.
This story is centred around neurodivergence and broad mental health issues, and how powerfully music can affect tones, moods, and lives is a strong theme, as well. Warnings will always be placed in the tags, which will be updated as needed, as well as in the beginning notes of each chapter, even at the cost of potential spoilers when it comes to that.
[compiled soundtrack on YouTube and Spotify]
last updated 2019-02-23 last updated 2022-09-20 !!
HEY THIS FIC STILL EXISTS! SORRY ABOUT THAT THE ACCIDENTAL OVER THREE AND A HALF YEAR HIATUS, ANYWAY HERE’S CHAPTER 97! IT’S A LONG ONE!
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not romantic not platonic but a secret third thing [what would happen between earth and the moon if the earth stopped spinning as illustrated by xkcd randall munroe]
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love when ppl defend the aggressive monetization of the internet with "what, do you just expect it to be free and them not make a profit???" like. yeah that would be really nice actually i would love that:)! thanks for asking
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I don't know who needs to hear this, but as a creator -
I am fine with "the audience" -
downloading my fics
printing my fics
copy/pasting or screenshotting my fics
sharing your saved copy of my fics with anyone else who might want them in the unlikely but never impossible case that my fics are no longer available on ao3
making a book of my fic(s) and running your fingers across the pages while lovingly whispering my precioussss
doing these things with anything I create for fandom, such as meta, headcanons, au nonsense like 'texts from the brodinsons,' etc
I am not fine with "the audience"
doing any of the above with the purpose/intent of plagiarizing my work or passing it off as their own in any capacity
feeding my work into ai for any reason whatsoever
Save the fandom things. Preserve the fandom things. Respect the fandom things.
Enjoy the fandom things.
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been replaying the Portal series I think this is where its heading
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cold
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Redrew some of my old daycare attendant doodles as stress relief today
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I love how on Tumblr, "media literacy" has become "Um, just because someone writes about this doesn't mean they're endorsing this. I hate all these media puritans ruining everything."
I'm sad to inform you that knowing when and whether an author is endorsing something, implying something, saying something, is also part of media literacy. Knowing when they are doing this and when they're not is part of media literacy. Assuming that no author has ever endorsed a bad thing is how you fall for proper gander. It's not media literacy to always assume that nobody ever has agreed with the morally reprehensible ideas in their work.
Sometimes, authors are endorsing something, and you need to be aware when that happens, and you also need to be aware when you're doing it as an author. All media isn't horny dubcon fanfic where you and the author know it's problematic IRL but you get off to it in the privacy of your brain. Sometimes very smart people can convince you of something that'll hurt others in the real world. Sometimes very dumb people will romanticize something without realizing they're doing it and you'll be caught up in it without realizing that you are.
Being aware of this is also media literacy. Being aware of the narrative tools used to affect your thinking is media literacy. Deciding on your own whether you agree with an author or not is media literacy. Enjoying characters doing bad things and allowing authors to create flawed or cruel characters for the sake of a story is perfectly fine, but it is not the same as being media literate. Being smug about how you never think an author has bad intentions tells me you're edgy, not that you're media literate. You can't use one rule to apply to all media. That's not how media literacy works. Sorry! Sorry! Sorry! Aheem heem. Anyway.
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the thing is there's like, a point of oversaturation for everything, and it's why so many things get dropped after a few minutes. and we act like millennials or gen z kids "have short attention spans" but... that's not quite it. it's more like - we did like it. you just ruined it.
capitalism sees product A having moderate success, and then everything has to come out with their "own version" of product A (which is often exactly the same). and they dump extreme amounts of money and environmental waste into each horrible simulacrum they trot out each season.
now it's not just tiktokkers making videos; it's that instagram and even fucking tumblr both think you want live feeds and video-first programming. and it helps them, because videos are easier to sneak native ads into. the books coming out all have to have 78 buzzwords in them for SEO, or otherwise they don't get published. they are making a live-action remake of moana. i haven't googled it, but there's probably another marvel or starwars something coming out, no matter when you're reading this post.
and we are like "hi, this clone of project A completely misses the point of the original. it is soulless and colorless and miserable." and the company nods and says "yes totally. here is a different clone, but special." and we look at clone 2 and we say "nope, this one is still flat and bad, y'all" and they're like "no, totally, we hear you," and then they make another clone but this time it's, like, a joyless prequel. and by the time they've successfully rolled out "clone 89", the market is incredibly oversaturated, and the consumer is blamed because the company isn't turning a profit.
and like - take even something digital like the tumblr "live streaming" function i just mentioned. that has to take up server space and some amount of carbon footprint; just so this brokenass blue hellsite can roll out a feature that literally none of its userbase actually wants. the thing that's the kicker here: even something that doesn't have a physical production plant still impacts the environment.
and it all just feels like it's rolling out of control because like, you watch companies pour hundreds of thousands of dollars into a remake of a remake of something nobody wants anymore and you're like, not able to afford eggs anymore. and you tell the company that really what you want is a good story about survival and they say "okay so you mean a YA white protagonist has some kind of 'spicy' love triangle" and you're like - hey man i think you're misunderstanding the point of storytelling but they've already printed 76 versions of "city of blood and magic" and "queen of diamond rule" and spent literally millions of dollars on the movie "Candy Crush Killer: Coming to Eat You".
it's like being stuck in a room with a clown that keeps telling the same joke over and over but it's worse every time. and that would be fine but he keeps fucking charging you 6.99. and you keep being like "no, i know it made me laugh the first time, but that's because it was different and new" and the clown is just aggressively sitting there saying "well! plenty of people like my jokes! the reason you're bored of this is because maybe there's something wrong with you!"
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being aromantic is like. hey btw you're going to live a life that is the culmination of most of society's worst nightmares. sorry lol ✌️ but then you turn around and take a really good hard look at it and it turns out that living in that nightmare is fucking awesome and you get to wake up every day and take that fear that other people have and laugh and hold it close until it's a great joy for you instead. and being happy is a radical act that you define instead of someone else. and you're sexy as fuck that's just a fact of life i don't make the rules on that one
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Waking up with Jason's arms wrapped around you, feeling him breathe into your hair, letting out the occasional snore. His hand is under you, pressed into your side, and you feel him squeeze the flesh of your waist to make sure you're still there, a habit he developed when things started getting serious, constantly searching for you, even in his sleep. He squeezes a little tighter, his breath suddenly quickening at an alarming rate. You try to turn to face him, fear settling in your stomach, wondering if something was plaguing him in his dreams again.
When you shift ever so slightly, you feel the other arm lying over you tighten, pulling you flush against his body. A chill runs down your spine as you feel him exhale a particularly strangled breath, and you force yourself out of his grip, sitting up to get a better look at the man next to you. His eyebrows furrowed, hair flat on one side of his head from laying in one position the entire night. One of his hands reaches out to your pillow, searching for you in your sudden absence, and when it's met with nothing, Jason jolts upright. He turns his head frantically, blurred vision searching for something, for someone, for you.
His shoulders drop in relief when he finally stops long enough to notice you barely a foot away from him. You watch his chest rise and fall as he tries to calm his breathing, and you're not sure which thing caused it, the nightmare or the fear that you had left him. "What are you doing up?" he asks, voice laced with sleep. "You were having a nightmare," you say quietly, sliding a little closer to him and settling back into your spot on the bed. "I was just trying to make sure you were okay." confusion is etched across his face like the concept of him having a nightmare was foreign, and you develop an equally confused expression upon seeing his own. His face drops suddenly, and he clears his throat, "Right, a nightmare." he shifts beneath the covers, seemingly uncomfortable. "I'm all good. Just go back to sleep, okay?" he sends a reassuring smile your way, his attempt at trying to make you forget this whole debacle and coax you back to sleep, but it was too late; you were already wide awake.
"Was it him again?" your hand finds the scarred expanse of his back, lightly grazing your fingers against old wounds and trying to ease his angst; his body tenses at your touch, and a groan leaves his lips. "it wasn't-" he pauses, running his hands through his hair and sighing. "it wasn't him again. It wasn't even..." he trails off, turning away from you and sliding off the bed. "wasn't even what?" You ask, more confused than ever, watching as he lifts his arms above his head, back muscles flexing while he stretches before crossing his arms. He just stands there, back towards you, and all you can do is sit in silence while he seemingly contemplates something. "It wasn't what, Jason?" you ask one more time. He turns his head slightly to look at you only for a second and lowers his eyes when he sees you in the same spot you've been this whole time. "It wasn't a nightmare," he says, turning around to face you, this time allowing you to see his whole body.
His face is flushed a bit out of embarrassment, and your confusion starts to reach its peak. That is until you do a once-over of him and notice the patch of dark gray on his otherwise light sweatpants. Your mouth gapes a bit, and all you can manage is a quiet "Oh." his eyes find the same spot on his pants, a tent growing beneath the soft cotton. "Yeah. Oh."
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