Star/Void/They/He â|â DID system all sys orgins are welcome! Queer, Trans, Alterhuman, Pagan, Alt, Leftist, and disabled! âWelcome home, the stars have been waiting for you my friend.â
Itâs been quite a while since our last update, and I know many of you have already spotted the new icon and banner! The truth is, weâve been navigating a really difficult period in our life â dealing with homelessness and having to relocate due to domestic violence. Throughout that time, we made the choice to put our energy into researching all the features our wonderful community has been asking for, and building a prototype to get a real sense of what weâre working with going forward. Itâs honestly been going great so far! We genuinely thrilled to show you all what weâve been working on, and I really hope it resonates with you the way it has with us!
Alongside that, Iâve been looking into how to make sure Concordia can be hosted on servers capable of handling high volumes of users, while also keeping everyoneâs private data secure. Thereâs so much that goes into running a platform like this that most of the plural community never sees, and honestly, the devs behind Simply Plural (may they rest easy after all they gave this community) and the other apps currently holding fort for our community deserve a huge amount of credit for everything they put into their work â because wow, it really is a lot!
So please know: Concordia is not going anywhere! There are no plans to end this project, and no reason there ever should be. This is something weâve been thinking about â and even working on in bits and pieces â for a while now, and weâre genuinely passionate about its future for the long haul. Progress may be gradual, and some stretches will move slower than weâd like, but weâve always been upfront that Concordia was never going to come together overnight. Itâs meant to help close the gaps in stability that apps like this havenât fully addressed for systems yet, and stability takes a lot of planning.
Over the next few weeks and months, youâll be hearing from us far more regularly. Alongside this, weâre archiving all previous posts on this blog, and will be rolling out new ones covering everything from Concordia itself, our new star-themed branding, planned features, and even some early looks at the current prototype. We couldnât be more excited to introduce you all to the new Concordia!
Thank you so much for your support so far. Youâll be hearing more from us soon! âš
Saw the # you used when reblogging my Madara fic yesterday and it made me SO happy! I appreciate you a lot, thank you!! đ€
Of course! I genuinely adore your writing. Chronic illness is SO under represented in fanfics in general, and ESPECIALLY in the naruto fandom. I think your fic might genuinely be the best chronic illness comfort fic I've ever read, which is saying something!
Also, I didn't mention it when i was reblogging bc i didn't want to make the # insanely long, but you also had amazing timing with posting it as disability pride month just started!
Nyyyyyx my looooove~ May I please place an order for spicy beef (sharing a bed) ramen with narutomaki (fluff) where reader has a migraine and is being comforted/babied? Madara will pick it up pretty please~ đđđđđ
You've been suffering through another one of your migraines, and Madara Uchiha is taking over the caretakingâwhether youâre in the mood for his brand of help or not.
Order up for Mochi Mochi's Madara Uchiha as part of my 200 special, enjoy it! đ€đ Warnings: g!n, chronic pain descriptions, medical distress (Madara almost burned a whole clinic down, he's sooooo dreamyy <33), possessive-ish (?) caretaking. This is supposed to be fluff | Word Count: 1.3k | Proofread: Yes! The chef made sure the order was correct before sending it out. | Readers are free to scroll past if these specific character interpretations or themes do not align with their comfort levels.
The pulse behind your right eye splintered into the base of your skull. The zig-zagging blind spots from hours ago had finally delivered their threat. The afternoon sun bleeding through the paper screens scraped against your retinas, and you buried your face deeper into the mattress, pressing the heels of your hands against your temples to cage the heat, the intense light invading the room. Everything hurt. Every small sound, movement, and even the quiet rustle of the cotton bedsheets made your stomach turn.
Thump, thump, thump.
The door slid open, letting the aroma of freshly made spicy beef broth and steamed narutomaki drift inside. On most days, that smell would bring you to your most overjoyed state as you could not wait to sip on it. Today, however, the smell instantly spiked your queasiness, causing you to curl tighter into yourself as if the pain would miraculously go away. Whenever your migraine attacked you, it also took a hit on your stomach.
Madara stepped into your shared bedroom, cataloged the uneven stress of your breathing, and immediately set the ceramic bowl out in the hallway to insulate the offending scent because he knew what you were going through right now. It only took him one quick look to assess and understand the predicament you were in.
He knew your triggers, he knew what helped, what didn't, and how to properly care for you even when he couldn't take the pain away immediately. He snapped the remaining screens shut, plunging the room into darkness; the sudden absence of light felt like a benediction.
Thump, thump, thump.
This whole situation infuriated him so much. So. Much. The reason? Truth being told, Madara Uchiha could bring entire nations to their knees, yet he was forced to stand by with his hands tied while his partner writhed in agony.
When these migraines first started consuming your days early in your relationship, he had dragged every renowned medical-nin across the Land of Fire to his compound. He dismissed the ones who called it a simple headache with threats so violent that Hashirama started receiving complaints about it. The Hokage had to personally intervene before Madara's protective rage caused him to level an entire medical clinic.Â
After a while, Madara even took it upon himself to find healers in other lands in hopes someone could finally tend to you. He was desperate to rip the invisible grip the condition had on your life. It took months of incessant search and pressure before an elder healer from the Land of Whirlpools finally synthesized a bitter herbal tincture capable of actually numbing your nervous system, thus making the pain more manageable and bearable.
He crossed the dark room, his footsteps muffled by the tatami, and retrieved the glass vial of your medication from the shelf. He poured the correct measured dose into the cup of water that sat right by your bedside table, before moving to the bed where the mattress dipped under his weight.Â
You tried to shrink away from the shift, your brain misfiring with the motion, but his hand settled gently at the base of your neck. His skin carried the rough texture of old battles; regardless, the pressure he applied remained painstakingly calibrated. He guided you backward, easing your tense frame until your spine rested against his chest.
The ambient heat of his body enveloped you, acting as your grounding pillar against the spinning room. He held the cup to your lips, his fingers supporting your jaw, tilting your head back just enough to make you swallow the medicine, his motions so gentle it did not feel like the Madara everyone knew. Just your Madara.Â
You weakly pushed his wrist away, your stomach forcibly revolting at the bitter scent of the crushed herbs. You thought that by now you would have gotten used to it, but that could not be farther from the truth.
"Don't waste any of your remaining strength fighting," Madara murmured, the rumble of his voice seeping directly into your shoulder blades. His scarred fingers slid to bracket your face, his thumbs finding the crux of the heat at your temples. He brought the cup close to your mouth once again. "Drink it. It will make you feel better soon."
You forced the acrid liquid down, shuddering as the harsh taste coated your throat and pushed the cup away towards Madara once you were done. He took it and stretched his arm to the side to put it on his bedside table, then locked your restless limbs down with the weight of his thigh, beginning a circular motion against your skin, his thumb catching a stray tear before it could soak into the pillow.
"Breathe," he commanded too softly even for him, his lips brushing the crown of your head. "Stop bracing against the pain. I am right here with you."
Time dilated in the quiet dark. The worst of the migraine pain eventually dulled under the influence of the medicine, leaving a deadened ache in its wake. Madara did not move from his position until he felt the fitful twitching in your muscles subside. Only then did he carefully untangle himself from your frame in bed, stepping out into the hallway to retrieve the ramen he had left outside a while ago.
He returned with the bowl, ensuring the sliding door did not make any loud noises as it clicked shut behind him, before he settled back onto the mattress. The broth was lukewarm now, the spices thankfully muted, but the mere concept of food made your insides heave. You clamped your mouth shut and turned your face away, pressing your cheek stubbornly against his strong chest.
Now, to fight against your nausea.
"I don't want it," you rasped, holding a weak tremor in your voice.
"You need to eat," Madara replied. He didn't raise his voice; he would never with you, but the finality in his tone left no room for debate. He hooked an arm under your waist, propping you up against his side too effortlessly.
"Madara, no," you whimpered, your jaw locking as he brought the chopsticks closer. "I'll be sick."
"You will not," he countered with a certain infuriating calm. "The medicine will shred your stomach lining if it remains empty. Just two bites."
Madara didn't force the food into your mouth. His thumb stroked a rather comforting pattern against your arm as if he were imposing an immovable wall of support until your resistance crumbled under his iron will. He was a patient man when it came to you and your well-being, and because of that, he wouldn't rush the process, especially a healing one.
So he waited.
He waited until the waves of nausea crested and fell, his strong hand still holding you against his chest until your tense shoulders drooped in exhausted relief and you felt more at ease by the smell.
He then proceeded to bring the chopsticks forward, pressing the edge gently against your lower lip just enough to leave a drop of the warm broth on your skin. The savory taste bypassed your queasiness, and you let out a defeated sigh, your resistance crumbling as you parted your lips.Â
Madara smiled, a victory smile, waiting for you to take the small bite before withdrawing the chopsticks to repeat the process over and over. He watched you intently, his eyes tracking the tight swallow of your throat after every bite, assessing it as he waited to see if your stomach would rebel.
Once you signaled that you were satisfied, he set the half-empty bowl aside and adjusted the pillows against the headboard. He leaned back, pulling you into his embrace for the hundredth time. His arm wrapped around your shoulders, tucking your head right over the steady thud of his heart. His free hand drifted up to your face, his rough-hewn thumb tracing the line of your cheekbone. You could fall asleep right there just by feeling his touch.
The room stayed quiet for a few minutes before Madara opened his mouth. "You do know that I could put you under a genjutsu to cleanly sever the pain receptors, right?" he murmured, a glimpse of his signature arrogance bleeding into the quiet room. There he is! That's the not-so-soft Madara ready to come out.
You let out an exhausted breath against his collarbone, your eyes almost fully closed. "Madara, my love, please don't start."
Nyx says: Do you guys know how intimidating it is to write for Madara? Or any Uchihas for that matter? I feel like they're watching over my shoulder to ensure I'm writing them appropriately đ anyways, I hope you enjoyed this one, tho đ€ On a completely unrelated side note, boy am I LOVING making my own dividers for my fics!
before we start posting that july is gay wrath month letâs consider that july is disability pride month first and foremost. the âbe gay do crimesâ memes can wait
before this post breaches containment and people start going âwhy not both heheheâ i want you to seriously consider the very long history of disabled peopleâs existence being pushed aside and/or seen as secondary. i promise you itâs not going to hurt to hold onto the memes and give disabled people space for visibility and celebration.
i say this as a disabled trans person whose trans identity is made front-and-center to the (mainly cis) people who know iâm trans but my identity as a disabled person is brushed off by the very same people.
this post has in fact breached containment and even with this disclaimer many of you in the notes are still missing the point. itâs not rescheduling wrath month and/or including disabled people into wrath month itâs about celebrating disability pride month first before anything else.
1) Make sure shipping fics are appropriately labelled.
2) Ignore things with those labels
3) If you have problems with 1 or 2 which are things you can control, do not post a diatribe on the main tag telling people that they are gross and disgusting and they should leave the main tag, because that is gross and disgusting. Â
Itâs sickening to come into this place and seeing people hating others because they do something harmless you donât like. I am embarrassed that this is representing Hermitcraft fandom. I have no control here, I cannot stop you but the shaming has to stop.
Hot take, but this is not a boundary. A boundary is âIf you post pro-shipping messages in my discord, twitch chat, or YouTube comments, or if you tag me on my socials with ship content, you will be instantly blocked.â
âYou cannot ship my characters, even if you use the proper tags and do it in exclusively fandom spacesâ is not a boundary, it is a threat
I think content creators have gotten very comfortable in fandom spaces. If you donât want to see something on your feed, block the tags. If you donât want to read a ship on AO3, block the tag. If you donât want people to ship your characters where you are expected to beâsuch as your discord or Twitch chatâyou can make that a boundary.
If you canât handle how fandom-specific spaces are handling creating things, then get out. Itâs that simple. Just donât engage with it. These spaces are not for the creators. These spaces are not for them to police.
ZombieCleo said it best:
đŹ 21  đ 680  â€ïž 1376 · How to avoid shipping problems · 1) Make sure shipping fics are appropriately labelled.
2) Ignore things with those
We have been generous and gracious in welcoming you into our spaces, Pyro and Maddie, but it is up to you to handle your mental health. We canât do it for you. If itâs an issue, block the tags and leave. It is not our jobs to make sure everything you can possibly ever find if you dig enough is good for you. Stop digging.
I hate how harsh this comes off, and I know a lot of people are going to disagree with me, but if you feel confused and upset by this âboundary setting,â then you arenât wrong to feel this way. You cannot control what other people do, only how you react to it. Block the tags, block the social media pages, ban people from your twitch chat and discord. Thatâs what you can do as a creator. This is insane overreach, and Iâm honestly just so tired of it all.
My Will Wood obsession has spiked again and its made me think:
"Against the Kitchen Floor" by Will Wood is SO Kakashi coded- like genuinely that man is So pathetically sad(love him for it tho) and it fits really well. I can just see Kakashi apologizing to Rin with the lyric "I'm down pounding my head on the kitchen floor, apologizing for my life and ever entering yours"
Like chat it fits his survivors guilt and self depreciative ways SO WELL!!!
Okay rant over back to my cave to will my woods again
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