All sorts of SFF, plus lots of sapphic and space stuff. Some hockey content. Reblogged art, photography, and poems. Fanfic and recs. AO3: thymidinekinase. Header art by Basementexplorer07
Vel Sartha is 5’2” of unstoppable force, Kleya Marki is the embodiment of rage, and they would both obliterate me. Mon Mothma was a smashball player, but I have a lower center of mass and might have a strength advantage.
I know we don’t get happily ever afters in real life. I’m a hopeless romantic, not a total fucking idiot. As my friend, Russell, said to me once, “Even with the happiest couples, one of you dies first.” But first there is such unalloyed joy.
We went to the supermarket yesterday and we were wandering around and, at one point, he took my hand, because that’s the kind of thing he does. And instantly, I got flustered. Residual anxiety. Remembrance of past battery. Enduring scars. Even though I know I’m hardly likely to get my head kicked in by the salad bar, PDAs can still make me nervous. And then he said, gentle as anything, and I’m not going to do the accent… “If there’s a gay kid in here with his folks, frightened that he’s a freak, don’t you think that it might give him hope, seeing two guys wandering around, being themselves, getting their groceries, like everyone else?” If happiness is a place… it’s the biscuit aisle in Sainsbury’s. And anywhere else I am with him.
given the current climate this pride especially i feel i must mention that i love my trans friends, i stand with trans people in the fight against transphobic legislation and those who would enforce it, and this blog is not a good place for you to be if you do not vibe with that
“Because the truth is, tech doesn’t have an image problem. It doesn’t have a message problem. It has an intention problem. What’s wrong with the axe murderer who broke into my house is not that he hasn’t successfully persuaded me to buy into his narrative. What’s wrong is that he’s trying to kill me with an axe. Similarly, when you launch a product that’s designed to put millions of people out of work, block access to sources of verifiable truth, replace human creativity with slop, and lower the barriers to every sort of atrocity, the problem isn’t that you haven’t told the public a good story about those things. The problem is that you are trying to do them.”
It’s June 1, and Kleya didn’t remember the neighboring bakery looking quite so … gay. The owner could decorate how she liked. Obviously. Kleya could decorate, or not, as she liked. And what she liked was not to advertise her private affairs.
☕︎᭡.ೃ࿔*:・
Chapter 1 should be a standalone, but I have more planned !
This one goes out to everyone at the Yavin Yurt VelKleya Discord – I’m so fortunate to call this lovely, supportive community my online home. In particular, I hope everyone who struggles to embrace their identity finds some measure of peace and acceptance during this Pride month.
Hat tip to Static65 for suggesting the name of Vel’s bakery, and to Kiwi for the title.
there will never be anything as funny as the mutual disbelief between long form and short form fic writers about each other's style.
short form writers look at people writing 100k+ fics as though this is some sort of talent given as part of a fae bargain, that the commitment required shows some sort of ungodly mental fortitude.
meanwhile long form writers look at people writing 1000 word one shots like god I would cut off my left nipple to be able to say anything concisely. i would love to play with multiple ideas. free me from the shackles of this child I have birthed. i love them but I now must take them to t-ball and doctor's appointments and they're going to destroy everything I own.