#i do finally feel like the geography is starting to make sense to me so yk. not even complaining | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

beeeinyourbonnet · 26 days

Text

Covetous | Chapter 1

Rating: E

Pairing: Macelle (Father MacAvoy x Belle) or Nostelle (Nosty x Belle), who is to say which

Summary: Father Joseph MacAvoy wakes up in a library across town with no idea of how he got there. When the kind librarian doesn't kick him out immediately, he considers that maybe there's more to life than alcohol.

Notes: I'm setting this as though The Tournament never took place and MacAvoy just contined on his downward spiral. Also, this fic was originally posted as a one-shot here but there are no notable differences. This will not have spoilers for The Tournament but it will have spoilers for Safe, kind of. Also, I'm sorry for my poor geography. Pretend anything geographic that doesn't make sense makes sense :') Also, this contains Nosty from Safe!

tws: alcoholism, homelessness. If I missed a warning, I'm so sorry--please let me know and I will add it ASAP!

----------------------

It was a new bar this time. Father MacAvoy had finally been kicked out of his usual pub, so he’d had to find another one, one that didn’t know about his reputation. The only one he could find had been The Rabbit Hole, and he considered removing his collarino before walking in, but he was too unsteady to do anything near his neck.

That was how he’d ended up kicked out at closing time with hazy memories of being told that every pub in Greenwich was locking its doors to him. He staggered along the streets, vomiting occasionally—sometimes even into bins—until he had to stop and sag against a wall. Was the church even in this direction?

Didn’t matter. He’d either make it home or die on the way, and at this point, he didn’t care which.

****

The floor he woke up on was hard, but it didn’t feel like concrete. Had he made it back to the church? No, because the light he could see through his eyelids felt florescent, and there was no florescent lighting there.

He curled up, bringing his knees to his chest, and tried to press his face closer to the floor. When he heard the click-click of footsteps, though, he lifted his head, prying his eyelids open.

Flooded with light, his head felt raw and tender, and he pressed his hands over his eyes with a mousy whimper he hadn’t intended to make. There was a sigh, and then more click-steps, and then silence until the light was gone. Hesitant, he opened his eyes again, and it was dark enough that he could look around.

The first thing he saw was a bookshelf, and when the dizziness faded and he could move his eyes again, he saw more bookshelves. The dividers between sections told him this was a library, not a shop. The only library he ever went to was in the church, and he wasn’t even sure where this library could have been. The only places he went were people’s homes, the grocery, and the pub.

A pair of legs wandered into view, and he almost choked on his tongue. Did it count as lust if the legs surprised him?

“Are you awake?” a voice said, and he curled up. Why did she have to shout? “I’ll get you some water, then. I don’t know if you saw, but there’s a bin by your head, just in case.”

He made a noise, and the legs disappeared in a series of clicks that reverberated around his skull. There was no vomit around him, so at least that hadn’t been the reason she’d left the bin—unless it was somewhere behind him. He could have been anywhere in the library.

He couldn’t lie here forever. It was only a matter of time until the librarian kicked him out like all of the diners did, or called the police to carry him out. Maybe if he spent the afternoon sobering up in a jail cell, he’d stop drinking.

Ha. Fat chance of that.

With a groan, he wriggled across the floor like a snake that hadn’t yet digested its last meal. When his forehead touched the bookshelf, he stopped to start the long process of heaving himself into a sit. By the time the legs got back, he was hunched over with his back pressed to the books and his arm around the bin.

“You’re sitting up. Good.”

He tried to nod, but his head was too heavy to move, so he grunted. Above the legs was a red and white dress that came to a rest at the knee, cinched around a curvy waist. If he tilted his head just a bit, he could see a face, too, but it was too pretty and twisted in disappointment, so he focused on her knees.

“Here. Drink some water.” She knelt, and his stomach lurched, but he reached a quaking hand toward the cup she held anyway.

“Thank you,” he managed before pressing the cup to his dry lips. His throat wanted him to chug, but his stomach did not, so he tried to half-gulp, tongue lapping against the water like a dog. When he drained the whole cup, he started to throw it away, but cool hands stopped him.

“Do you want more?” she asked.

He wanted to lie, to deny the fact that he was both intruding in her space and taking advantage of her hospitality, but he was too thirsty. “Yes. Please.”

****

By the time she returned, he was retching into the bin, so she left the water glass and disappeared. It must have been almost time for the library to open, though even if there had been a clock near him, he wouldn’t have been able to focus on it.

He hung over the bin, clutching it to his chest like a lover, but he was mostly just dry heaving by the time she came back with a plate of toast.

“Eat,” she said when he tried to wiggle away, sounding like a long-ago memory of nuns during Sunday school.

“Oh, no, I—you’ve been too kind already.”

“Then don’t think of it as kindness,” she said, setting the plate down next to him. “Eat so that you don’t throw up all over my floor.”

She produced a paper towel from behind her, and started mopping off his mouth. He wasn’t so scummy as to let a strange librarian wipe off his sick, and he gripped the paper towel to do it for her.

“Your hands are shaking,” she said, leaning back onto her heels. The thought of even trying to balance like that made his throbbing head ache more.

“Just need a little pick me up,” he said, folding the towel up when he was finished with it.

“Unfortunately, this is a library, and we are fresh out of alcohol, so you’ll have to settle for water.”

She looked at him, face set in a hard line, and he swallowed. Water it was, then.

****

He laid on the floor, legs propped against the wall, and drank water half upside-down. The librarian said this would help his headache, and it was making his stomach feel a little better too.

“Thank you,” he said, blinking up at her. At this angle, he should have had to work hard not to look up her skirt, but the thick fabric blocked his view every time. Maybe this was God easing up on punishing him for the drink by not making him exert effort to preserve this woman’s modesty.

“Are you feeling up to standing yet? Maybe making it to a chair?” she asked. “The library was supposed to open half an hour ago.”

“Oh, fuck, I’m sorry,” he said, and then his stomach lurched. His stupid mouth—he should have died last night. “I’ll get out—if I could just take some water?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you’ll never make it far. I just want to move you to my office.”

He didn’t know what to say to that. Instead of speaking, he thanked God for guiding him to collapse in the library where there was a sympathetic miracle, and started to shift to his feet.

****

Her office was cluttered and the chairs were uncomfortable, but it was quiet and softly lit, and anything was better than the dirty floor. He nibbled on toast and sipped water while she opened the library up, grateful that he wouldn’t have to sit in some diner with the knowledge that he couldn’t pay for anything they served him.

There were books all over the tiny room—and not library books, either, but books that he was sure belonged just to the librarian. Why she needed a second room of them just for her was beyond him, but then, so were most intellectual endeavors right now.

He was starting to feel like he might be able to leave soon as long as he could look at a map first and figure out how to get back to the church from here. A taxi would be nice, but he couldn’t pay for one, so a bus would have to do.

The librarian popped her head in, and he almost up-ended his water cup in surprise. “How are you feeling, Father?”

“Better. Good enough to go home, I think.” It wasn’t lying if he didn’t pretend to be positive about it.

“Do you work at St. Rita’s?” She jerked her thumb toward the side wall, indicating that it must have been near, and in that direction.

Had he really made it all the way to St. Rita’s? How had he gotten this turned around? “No—St. Joseph’s.”

The woman snorted, and his instinct was to bow his head and make himself look smaller. “I don’t think you can make it yet, Father. I don’t want you dying on the way. You can stay here all afternoon, I don’t mind.”

He took a bite of toast, too overcome in his hung over state to speak. God had sent him a blessing—or guided him to a blessing, really—and he couldn’t even string two words together. He was a joke.

****

“My name is Belle,” she said, popping her head in. “Do you need anything other than toast?”

Belle was a pretty name. He should probably say something in response to her, instead of staring in disbelief at the fact that pretty Belle the librarian was offering him things other than toast. He was lucky if he was offered use of a free water fountain usually.

“Uh—MacAvoy. Father Joseph MacAvoy.”

“Father Joseph and St. Joseph’s?” She chuckled to herself, then shook her head. “Sorry, you probably get that all the time.”

“It was one of the reasons I picked it, actually,” he said, feeling his stomach lurch with the extra talking. “Couldn’t make a decision, so I figured it was a sign.”

“Seems as good a reason as any.” She walked around the desk and took a seat in the swivel-chair, big and plush enough to dwarf her tiny frame. “Do you live on this side of the city?”

He shook his head, then squeezed his eyes shut when he grew to regret the action. “I don’t really know how I got here.”

She made a noise, and he wasn’t sure if it was disapproval or sympathy. Disapproval was more likely, but at least she wasn’t looking at him like the waitresses did at all his usual diners.

“Do you usually drink like this?”

He could have lied. The thought fluttered across his mind, but the thought of lying made him anxious—he wasn’t particularly good at it. She would know. “Yes.”

“Why?”

He finished his toast, and took a tiny sip of water. Maybe a confession would be good for his soul—a confession not bleated to the middle of his bathroom with his head in the toilet. “I don’t know. It’s easier than dealing with my failures, I guess.”

“What failures?”

He looked down at his water cup, and gave a mirthless chuckle. “I’ve let my church fall into disrepair. No one comes to mass anymore. I don’t even hold mass anymore. I drink too much. I have no money. I wind up in places across town that I didn’t even know existed.” He shook his head, slowly this time. “I’m worthless.”

Belle stood up, and he wanted to sink into his chair. She was going to insist that he leave now, that he take his sorry arse out of her library and go muck up some other building.

Instead, she stopped behind him and ruffled his hair as if he were a young boy who’d done something precious. “You’re not worthless. You’re just a little lost.”

‘A little lost’ was an understatement, but MacAvoy didn’t protest, just closed his eyes and leaned against her hand. It had been so long since someone had handled him without being rough and even longer since someone had touched his hair.

“I’ll be back in a bit, okay? I have to go set up a reading room for a school visit. There’s more bread in the cupboard, and I think there might be some jam in the fridge.”

“Okay,” he said, stomach sinking at the thought of her leaving. He never wanted her hand removed from his head. “Thank you.”

“It’s not a problem.”

****

It should have been a problem. There was a lavatory connected to Belle’s office, and five minutes after she left saw him curled around her toilet, heaving up the toast he’d just finished. He needed more whiskey, but the bottle he kept in his jacket had disappeared. He suspected that it had had help.

When he was certain that he had nothing left in him to lose, he flushed the toilet and went to rinse his mouth, wobbling on sweat-slicked legs. Maybe he would die here in this library. It wasn’t ideal, but at least it wasn’t an alleyway.

“Father?” Belle’s voice was followed by two short raps on the door. “Are you all right?”

“I am now,” he muttered, glaring at himself in the mirror. He looked gaunt, with dark circles under his eyes and ghostly cheeks. “I think that was the worst of it.”

“I have some mouthwash in the lower cupboard, and paper cups as well. You’re welcome to use it.”

“Thanks.” He lowered himself inch by inch until he was eye-level with the door, then opened it. Inside was all manner of things—toilet rolls, tissue boxes, jugs of soap to refill the dispensers, a first aid kit. He retrieved the mouth wash with shaking hands, then a paper cup, and his stomach lurched at the idea of harsh mint.

He managed to swish it around in his mouth for fifteen of the suggested thirty seconds, spitting it out when he felt a gag coming up. When he finally stumbled back into Belle’s office, she was sitting in her chair with a bottle of cleaner.

“Do you want to shower?” she asked, and he almost fell back into the lavatory.

“What?”

“There’s a shower in that far stall. You’re welcome to use whatever soap and shampoo is in there.”

It would be nice to be clean, but all of his clothes would still be grimy. Maybe he should just wash them in the shower too. Maybe he should stay in Belle’s shower for the rest of his meager, pitiful life.

“Sure. Thanks.”

“I’ll spray your clothes.” She held up the cleaner. “It’s not a wash, but it’s better than nothing. It’ll disinfect, at least.”

“Thank you.” He wobbled back toward the bathroom, but paused in the doorway. ‘Thank you’ felt so inadequate.

“It’s amazing, what you’re doing,” he said, trying to draw on the ability to talk that had gotten him into the priesthood. “Not many people would do this.”

Belle flushed, shaking her head like he’d just told her she had toilet roll stuck to her skirt. “Anyone would. It’s the right thing.”

He smiled. It was nice knowing there were people who thought that way without having taken any vows.

****

The shower helped more than anything, and instead of putting on his clothes, he let Belle spray them and hang them outside while he walked around wrapped in a clean towel. It was nice to be clean.

He made himself another piece of toast and curled back up in the chair. There had been men’s shampoo in the shower, much nicer than the generic that he usually bought for himself. Did that mean there was a man who worked in the library? Someone who shared a shower with Belle?

Unbidden, the image of Belle sharing a shower with a faceless man—who, from the back, looked a lot like Hugh Grant—sprung to his mind, and he flushed, fumbling to cross himself. He shouldn’t be thinking of anyone like that, much less his savior. Besides, Belle didn’t seem like the type of person to just share showers with her coworkers.

Maybe she was married. He hadn’t thought to check her hands for a ring, but it would make sense. She was beautiful and kind, with the kind of fluttering eyelashes that could drive a man to buying expensive jewelry and making eternal vows. He would have to look at her hands.

And maybe ask for coffee. His head was starting to beg for it.

****

Apparently, there was a coffee carafe in the library, and Belle brought him a cup as soon as he mentioned it. He wanted to be more self-sufficient, but she didn’t want a man in a towel wandering around her library, and truthfully, he didn’t want to wander around.

Belle didn’t seem to mind taking care of him anyway. It was good for her soul, he reasoned, and it was doing wonders for his as well.

She wasn’t wearing any rings, but that didn’t mean that she wasn’t in a relationship. Maybe she was planning on getting engaged. Maybe he could officiate at the wedding, waive the church-renting fee in repayment of her kindness.

That’s what he would do. He would get his act together—maybe Belle would allow him to see her once a week or so for a chat—and then the church would understand having to do this. It was perfect.

****

“Belle,” he said the next time she sat down. His coffee cup was empty and his body ached all over, but he thought he might have been done throwing up.

“Hmm?” She was turned to her computer, probably pulling up a web catalogue or something.

“I want to thank you, for all of this.” He gestured around, and she looked up from her screen with a frown.

“You did. Several times. And you’re welcome—it’s no trouble at all, really.”

“I see that—you’re not married,” he began, wishing he had the wood of confession between them so that he would not have seen her startled jump and hurried glance at her ring finger.

“No, I am very single. Sometimes people think I’m engaged to the library, though.”

A tingly feeling spread along his spine at that confession, but he ignored it. “Well, I can’t officiate at that wedding.”

“Pardon?” She tilted her head at him.

This conversation would probably have gone a lot more smoothly had he not been wrapped in a towel. He swallowed, fiddling with the edge of it.

“That’s really the only thing I can offer you in return. If you wanted to get married in my church, we could do it for free.”

Her smile lit up the whole room, and the knot in his chest eased a little. She didn’t think he was creepy for talking about her future marriage—although a stupid part of him had hoped she might look a little scandalized at the thought of a relationship.

“That’s very thoughtful of you, but even if I was getting married, I couldn’t accept.”

He frowned, forehead creasing. “Why not?” Was his kindness less acceptable than hers?

“I’m not Catholic.”

There was silence, and then a strange buzzing filled his head. He had not factored this into his thought process. “What?”

“I’m not Catholic. I’m Protestant.”

Protestant? He had not foreseen this.

****

The door slammed open, and MacAvoy jumped, clutching at his towel before it could slip away from his thighs. Was Belle angry now? He turned, but instead of Belle, there was a wild man in a kilt stomping toward the mini-fridge.

He should say something. Would Belle want a thug who smelled like stale mud rummaging through her things?

The man whipped around and hunched his shoulders, like a tiger about to pounce, and his bright-eyed gaze froze MacAvoy to his chair. His upper lip lifted in a snarl, and he flipped the mustard jar in his hand as though he meant to stab him with it.

“Well, well. What do we have here?” He threw his shoulders back, swaggering closer like he owned every inch of space around him. MacAvoy could only stare, wishing he was dressed and maybe a little bit drunk to stop his shaking.

“Oi, where are your manners? I asked you a fucking question.” He slapped the mustard onto the desk before grabbing MacAvoy’s chin and yanking his head forward.

“I—I—” He just wanted to cross himself, but he couldn’t move, and all he could think was please, please, please, please, please.

“What, are you stupid and naked?”

“Please,” he wheezed, shaking like a wet dog. “Please don’t hurt me.”

He tugged harder on his chin, and MacAvoy gulped. “I’ll consider it. Who are you, and what the fuck are you doing in Belle’s office?”

“F-Father MacAvoy.” He swallowed, feeling his Adam’s apple bob along his taut throat.

“A priest, eh? Forsaking your vows for some carnal pleasures?”

MacAvoy blushed from the roots of his hair to the backs of his knees. “N-no! I passed out a-and Belle found me! That’s—that’s all. I swear.”

The man tilted his face to the left and then the right, making his eyes water with pain, but then dropped him and backed off. MacAvoy all but melted back into his chair, wishing he could disappear.

“So a disgraced priest, then?” He picked up the mustard and went back to the fridge.

“Yes.” The admission hurt, but it was overshadowed by his relief at still having a head, and as soon as he could move his hands again, he rubbed at his throat. “But I’d like to try again.”

“It’ll never work. You’ll have to change cities. Once everyone knows you’re a fuck-up failure, everyone expects it of you.��

MacAvoy swallowed, watching the man pull out sliced cheese and ham. “That’s not true,” he said, though there were about fifteen pubs that would contradict him.

“It is, and the faster you learn that, the better you’ll survive. Take it from me.”

“And who are you?” He tried to ask gently, so that the man would know he was genuinely curious and not trying to slight him.

He whirled around, kilt belling out in a flash of tartan, and then sank into a bow. “Nosty, at your service.”

MacAvoy was glad that he was no longer looking like he meant to take a fatal bite out of his neck, but he was still wary. The smile he tried came out as more of a grimace. “It’s very nice to meet you, Nosty.”

“Oi, don’t fucking lie to me, priest. You don’t want God to smite you.”

MacAvoy swallowed. It wasn’t a lie, not completely—Nosty seemed like the sort of person he could help, and he wanted to be drawn to help people. On the other hand, Nosty also seemed like the sort of man to bite the hand that feeds him.

“Here.” Nosty bounded over, sandwich in one hand, and bottle of something red and a spoon in the other. “You’re hung over?”

“Uh—aye. A bit, yeah.” ‘A bit’ was an understatement.

“Try this.” He held the sandwich between his teeth, and then poured a measure of the red bottle’s contents into the spoon.

MacAvoy reached a shaking hand out for it, too terrified to disobey, but even more terrified to actually put it in his mouth. “What is it?”

“Hot sauce. Eat it, it’ll help.”

It didn’t occur to MacAvoy that he might have been pulling his leg until the spoon was up against his lips and it was too late to not ingest any. With a quick prayer, he slurped down the spoon’s contents.

For a few seconds, all was quiet. Then, a fire flared in his throat and he wheezed.

“Oh, fuck.” He gasped for breath, clawing at his throat like that would somehow relieve the burn. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

He coughed, and Nosty thumped him on the back.

“Just ride it out, Father,” he said, words thick through his lunch. “It’ll be over soon.”

“Water! Please!”

“Jesus, for a man whose supposed to be smart, you sure are fucking stupid. Water won’t help.”

He let out an incoherent whimper that was meant to be another ‘fuck,’ and groped at the air like he could use it to smother the flames in his mouth. Then, the door opened, and Nosty was standing to block him from it before he could even see the swish of Belle’s skirt.

“Nosty!”

The delight in Belle’s soft voice froze the fire in MacAvoy’s throat. Belle liked this hellion—she liked him enough that she was happy to see him terrorizing her office. It made his stomach as hot as the rest of him.

“Hey.” Nosty spread his legs, bony backside in MacAvoy’s face, and crossed his arms. “I see you took in another stray. You turning this into an animal shelter?”

“Neither of you are animals.” She started towards them, stepping around Nosty to see MacAvoy, curled into the chair with red-rimmed eyes and pasty lips. She lurched forward, pressing a hand to his forehead. “Father, are you all right?”

“Fine,” he wheezed, just proud enough not to tattle on Nosty.

She stroked his hair back, and then her eyes fell on the bottle of hot sauce. “Nosty, what did you do?”

“Just trying to cure his hangover, sweetheart.”

MacAvoy closed his eyes, clutching at his towel, and focused on the feeling of Belle’s hand on his head. He did not want to be in the middle of this anymore.

****

Belle peeked into the empty office half an hour or so later. MacAvoy had been napping, but it was hard to doze for long when he was naked in a tiny chair, so the sound of the door opening woke him.

“Sorry,” she said, raising a black bundle in her hand. “Your clothes smell a lot better now, if you want to get dressed.”

“Thank you.” He accepted the bundle, warm from the sunshine.

“You’re welcome to stay here as long as you like. If you want to stay until closing, I’ll drive you to the church.”

He shook his head, swallowing the bile. “You’ve already done too much for me.”

“Father.” She leaned against the door, arms folded. “You, of all people, should know how to accept kindness. Let me drive you.”

He swallowed. She was right—it was his job to teach people to be as kind as Belle, and here he was, not even letting her do what she wanted. “Okay. Thank you.”

“Great.” She pushed herself off the door.

“Wait, Belle!”

He hadn’t thought this through, and wasn’t prepared for her to return her attention to him, one eyebrow arched in question.

“Hmm?”

“Can I see you again?”

He was unaccustomed to being smiled at, but Belle was looking like he’d just proposed. He could almost imagine her saying his name the way she’d said Nosty’s—he would gladly be one of her strays, if it meant they could spend time together.

“Of course. Maybe I’ll even come to you next time.”

****

It was time to venture out into the library. MacAvoy was dressed, collar in place to dissuade any aggression on Nosty’s part, and he was feeling like he either needed a drink or some air. Since there was no liquor, air would have to do, and the quiet library was the perfect place for his still-sensitive head.

He wandered around with the care of someone who feared breaking his own legs, shuffling between bookshelves with no direction in mind. Maybe he would find Belle and listen to her talk about the library.

A wisp of red between two shelves caught his eye, and he was certain that it was Belle’s dress. He shuffled around to the aisle, mouth open in anticipation of a greeting.

When he saw her, he froze. Mouth still open, he could only stare at Belle pressed against the shelves, pinned there by Nosty’s knobby knees. MacAvoy’s first thought was that Nosty was a heathen, forcing himself on Belle—he needed to save her, to protect her. But even someone as inexperienced as MacAvoy couldn’t ignore the way Belle’s hands curled around Nosty’s leather-clad elbows or the possessive tenderness with which Nosty cupped her cheek as he pressed soft kisses into her berry-red lips.

[chapter 2]

#anyelle #macelle #nostelle #new update #covetous #anyelle fic

11 notes · View notes

allmoshnobrain · 10 months

Text

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

part 12 of ? | masterpost

word count: 2059 | ao3 link | fic's playlist

And then, I realized what my decision was. I understood that the band was more than just an important project; it was what brought the five of us together, it was the beat of our hearts, and how desperately, truly desperately, we wanted it to succeed - because it had to, no matter what. And my role in all of it was to support them in the best way I could; even if it broke my heart.

✦ summary: Metallica's career begins to advance and Nore makes a difficult decision to help the future of the band.

✦ on this chapter: dave mustaine x female!oc, james hetfield x female!oc, oc is cliff's cousin, +18, language, slice of life, angst (mild), fluff, cliff burton & female!oc (family)

✦ a/n: hello! i'm posting this chapter a little earlier because i'll be traveling over the weekend. we'll be finally seeing a bit of plot development on this one hehe I'm posting at a slower pace because writing has been slow too, but I hope you like it! Feedback is welcome <3

✧ Innocence was our fire / We told the truth / I miss the sweet boys in the summer of their youth ✧

"Alright, everyone!" Lars exclaimed, grinning, and I looked up, curious. "It's band meeting time."

It was early evening, and I was chilling in the living room with Cliff, snuggled up in Dave's arms while he mindlessly watched some random TV show. That's when Lars and James walked in, both looking very pleased about something. I slipped out of Dave's embrace, making him grumble in protest, and stood up - usually, I didn't stick around for the guys to discuss band stuff because it bored me a bit and I wanted to give them some privacy.

“Stay, Nore.” James flashed me a smile, and I sat back down, surprised. "I think you'll like to hear this firsthand."

I gave Dave a questioning look, but he just shrugged, seeming as intrigued as I was. James settled next to me on the couch while Lars headed to the kitchen, returning quickly with a bottle of vodka and some shot glasses.

"Are we celebrating something or do you guys just want to start drinking early?" Cliff raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk on his face. Lars chuckled.

"You'll find out if you let me tell you," he said, and Cliff rolled his eyes. "Alright, you know we've been on the hunt for a producer for our album, right? Well, here's the good news: we finally found a guy who's down to produce the album with us."

"Lars, that's awesome!" I exclaimed as Dave shouted excitedly.

“Wait a sec.” Cliff interjected. “You said you were starting with the good news. What's the bad news?”

"Oh, right." James chuckled nervously. "The producer is based in New Jersey. And if we want to kick off the production, we'll have to go there."

"What?" Dave asked, incredulous. "How? With what cash? New Jersey is on the other side of the fucking country!"

"Yeah, thanks for the geography lesson, Einstein." Lars replied sarcastically, and Dave furrowed his brow. "Look, don't we have some money stashed from our gigs? We can rent a van and hit the road. But it needs to be soon 'cause the guy wants to get things rolling quick."

"This is insane." Dave answered. "We don't even have that much money, man. We should find someone local."

"Well, James and I have already made up our minds. So you can either get on board or we can find a new guitar player." Lars said, a smug grin on his face.

I raised my eyebrows, feeling uneasy, as Dave removed his arm from around my shoulders and clenched his fists, glaring at Lars. I could sense that he was restraining himself from starting a fight right then and there.

"Yeah, I think we should go." Cliff interrupted, cutting through the tense atmosphere in the room. "Come on, Dave. We've been trying to land a producer for this shit for ages."

Dave looked around, seemingly realizing that pushing further wouldn't get him anywhere, so he let out a frustrated sigh and rolled his eyes.

"Fine, whatever. I'll talk to my boss, see if he can lend me some cash or something."

"Great." Lars said cheerfully, seemingly oblivious to Dave's discontent. "Which brings us to another question. Whether Nore will be joining us or not."

"Me?" I asked, taken aback. Dave furrowed his brow once again.

"What do you mean ' whether she's going or not '? Of course she's going!"

"Hold on, dude. We don't even have a plan on how to get there yet." James chimed in. "We're tight on cash and we don't have a place to crash. It's not exactly the safest option for a girl. But hey, it's your call." He looked at me, and I met his gaze, unsure of what to say.

I tried to gather my thoughts, but my mind was in a whirlwind. On one hand, I really wanted to go. I didn't want to be stuck alone in San Francisco, away from Cliff, Dave, James, and even Lars. They had become such a big part of my life in the past few months, and I couldn't imagine being without their company anymore. On the other hand, James had a point; money was tight, and there were sure to be other expenses along the way. It was a risky venture, and I didn't want to burden any of them.

"You could crash at Lea's place while we're gone," Cliff suggested, clearly trying to help. I let out a sigh and shook my head.

"I... I need some time to think," I mumbled.

"Alright, then! You can decide later. Let's celebrate!" Lars exclaimed, getting up with excitement and grabbing the vodka.

I let out another sigh. This had all the potential to be a happy moment, but it wasn't, at least not for me. I felt torn and stressed. Dave still seemed a little annoyed with Lars. Cliff and James were both staring at me, Cliff looking concerned and James examining my face in a way that made me shift my gaze.

I couldn't be there right then. I needed some alone time. I stood up and made my way to the backyard, running a hand through my hair as I leaned against the porch railing and lit up a cigarette.

"Are you alright?"

I looked up and found James leaning against the doorframe, his piercing blue eyes staring at me, filled with concern. I let out a sigh.

"I... I don't know, James. It was a lot to take in all at once. And Lars..."

"Oh, he's a pain in the ass during band meetings. Forgot you're not used to it," he said with a smirk, coming closer. I chuckled softly.

"I don't know if I should go," I admitted in a hushed voice. "I don't want to be a burden or disturb anyone."

"You're not a burden," he reassured me. "You're the best thing that's happened to us."

I looked up, surprised, meeting his sincere gaze. It always amazed me how effortlessly we became friends, how he had become one of my closest companions once we got past the initial shyness. And how much he meant to me.

He reached out and lightly touched my arm, appearing slightly awkward. He was so close, close enough that I could see every detail of his face in the dim porch light. I felt my cheeks heat up a bit, not quite understanding why. He pulled me into a hug, holding me tight. I chuckled softly, burying my face in his chest.

"No matter what you decide, we'll be there for you," he said, his voice muffled. I nodded. "But just know, if you don't go, I'll fucking miss you."

"I'll miss you guys too," I murmured.

They were leaving, but I would stay in San Francisco.

I sighed, eyes closed, feeling the gentle pressure of Dave's lips against mine. He cupped my face in his hands, his weight on top of me on the bed as he kissed me slowly. It felt good, but my mind was elsewhere. It was late at night, and I had sneaked into Dave's room while everyone else was asleep.

I hadn't told him yet about my decision to stay in San Francisco while they went on their trip. I knew how much he wanted me to go, and even though I was confident it was the right choice, I couldn't shake off the anxiety of being away from everyone for an unknown length of time. I opened my eyes as he pulled back, and I noticed his intrigued gaze fixed on me.

"What's wrong?" I asked in a hushed voice.

"You look worried . What aren't you telling me?" he asked, gently. I sighed.

"Am I that easy to read?" I asked, and he chuckled softly, shifting to lie beside me. I snuggled into his arms, burying my face in the crook of his neck.

"It's about what Lars said, right? About the trip?" he whispered.

"Yeah, it is," I spoke quietly. "Dave, I... I think I'm gonna stay."

I didn't know how I expected him to react. I didn't know if he would be sad or angry. But a wave of relief washed over me when he lifted my chin with his hand, kissing me gently on the lips once, twice, three times before pulling away and looking at me with his brown eyes.

"I wish you’d come," he said in a low voice. "But if you think it's best to stay, I get it."

"I think I can help you guys more by staying around here," I whispered. "It's the right call, I think."

"But you don't look too thrilled about it," he remarked with a slightly vexed smile. I nodded.

"I'll miss you, Dave," I whispered. "All of you."

"I'll miss you too, babe," he whispered back, placing a tender kiss on my temple. "Damn, if I could, I'd never spend a day away from you." I let out a soft chuckle at his words. "I love you, Nore."

"I love you too, Dave," I replied, letting him pull me into a tight embrace against his chest. Right then, I felt like the luckiest girl in the world, but it didn't help much when I remembered how sad I was knowing that soon I would have to be away from him.

"Hey, you know what? I've got an idea," he said, grinning, clearly trying to lift my spirits. "Why don't we go out, just you and me? Spend the day together, do something fun."

I looked at him, a smile spreading across my face as some of my excitement returned.

"Are you talking about a date?" I teased. He chuckled.

"Yeah, I guess so. I just thought it would be nice to have some quality time with you before I take off. What do you say?"

"I think it's awesome," I beamed, then wrapped my arms around his neck, planting a kiss on his lips. "You're the best boyfriend ever."

"I do my best," he grinned, leaning in for another kiss. "But it's easy when I've got an amazing girlfriend like you."

A few days before the guys left for New Jersey, Dave came home and handed me a bunch of keys. I looked at him, puzzled.

"What's this?"

"Well..." he plopped down next to me on the couch, twirling a strand of my hair around his finger. "Remember our talk about spending a day together? I've got some plans. And… I may have rented a beach cottage for us."

"Dave! You shouldn't be wasting your money on this," I objected, though a smile involuntarily crept onto my face.

"Hey, no worries. I just want to see my girl happy. Plus, since I'll be away for a while... I promise I won't let you get a wink of sleep," he smirked mischievously. I looked away, feeling my cheeks flush, and he let out a soft chuckle at my reaction.

"Hey, you two," Lars called out, entering the room with James. "James, Cliff, Lea, and I are hitting up the bar. You guys wanna come along?"

"Hell yeah, count me in," Dave jumped up, brimming with excitement, and I followed suit.

Many years later, I would remember that time as one of the happiest in my life. We enjoyed that night as if it were our last; we laughed together, danced together, had fun together, and drank together. Somehow, despite all the unspoken tensions that were slowly surfacing, we remained happy, excited, and filled with hope for a successful future that, at least during that time, seemed like a distant dream.

That night, amidst the smiles and blurred memories of a beer-filled evening, all I could wish was for that happiness to last forever. I was happy. They were my family.

And I loved them.

#hello hello hello it's heartbreaker day!!#ada writes fanfiction #heartbreaker fanfic #metallica #megadeth #james hetfield #dave mustaine #cliff burton #lars ulrich #metallica fanfiction #dave mustaine x oc #dave mustaine fanfiction #nore burton (oc)#james hetfield x oc #james hetfield x reader #dave mustaine x reader

44 notes · View notes

delta-queerdrant · 7 months

Text

she's not your satellite (Twisted, s2 e06)

I peeked at reviews for “Twisted,” and apparently people do not like this episode! I guess I understand why - it is literally 45 minutes of people wandering the corridors, exchanging increasingly tense dialogue as they contemplate their deaths. What can I say, I enjoyed watching it. I am partial to a drawing-room novel where nothing happens, and in Star Trek, the corridors are the drawing rooms.

“Twisted” opens with Kes’s birthday party. She is turning two (underage even in dog years). This poor young woman is having such a bummer of a birthday! The party is at Sandrine’s, undercutting a sweet moment of found family with several rounds of holographic sexual harassment. A bad time becomes worse when Tom gifts Kes a locket, raising Neelix’s hackles. To be fair, it is a genuinely bizarre gift - all of the lockets I’ve received in my life were gifted to me before the age of ten - and only heightens the narrative confusion around Tom’s “just friends” intentions toward Kes.

As soon as Neelix starts quietly freaking out, Janeway inserts herself into the conversation. What is this lady doing? She compliments the necklace and explains to Kes how lockets work, stoking the drama with the same energy with which she micromanages a science experiment. Is she oblivious? Does she think she is helping? Why is everyone being so weirrrrd?

I will pause to appreciate Neelix’s genuinely beautiful cake. I am so tickled by the conceit that people in space have space themes for their birthday parties, though I suppose it makes sense for Kes, who is excited to celebrate her first birthday on Voyager.

One distortion wave later, the layout of the ship begins to warp. Attempts to leave the holodeck continuously route the crew back to Sandrine’s (truly, hell). So much of Star Trek takes place in these interchangeable corridors, so the ship’s geography becoming the obstacle of the week is very fun! And cost-saving!

Unfortunately this is a Bad Neelix episode, in which we are subjected to the latest eruption of Neelix’s obsessively jealous ruminations. Neelix broaches the subject with Chakotay and gets the absolute worst advice: Chakotay explains that fear and love go hand in hand, but isn’t love worth the risk? Perhaps this is peak Star Trek: the suggestion that you can platitude your way to healthier thought patterns. In Chakotay’s defense, Neelix is asking the wrong questions; right now he needs help with his behaviors, not his feelings. Soon after, the two are separated by the diverging corridors, and we get the funniest moment of the episode, in which Chakotay calls for Neelix in the same plaintive tone that one uses to summon a cat.

The episode finally gets some momentum when Janeway is disabled by some 90s-era CGI, resulting in a power vacuum. “Twisted” was originally filmed for Season One, so we get a charged argument between Chakotay and Tuvok about how to respond to the distortion. Chakotay pulls rank, and Tuvok’s decision to cede to him feels like a big character moment - this is the guy who broke the Prime Directive behind Janeway’s back, after all. He’s accepted Chakotay as his superior, and he’s willing to set aside his own self-regard to play by the rules.

Chakotay’s plan fails, so Chakotay, in turn, puts his trust in Tuvok and decides to ride out the progression of the wave. Certain they are going to their deaths, everyone hugs it out, in a stiff upper lip, Starfleet way. To be specific, they hold hands, clasp shoulders, or in Tuvok’s case, sidles up close to Janeway without actually touching her. These people, honestly.

Of course, they don’t die. The wave was just one of those uncanny alien encounters that Starfleet crews are wont to have, and they depart with extra data about the Delta Quadrant. Maybe that’s why I like this episode: the ending just feels really… nice? It’s certainly a departure from the usual Voyager arc, where hard lessons are learned and sacrifices made. To quote the Ninth Doctor, “Just this once, everyone lives!” Our crew of weirdos with emotional deficits gets to have their cake and eat it too.

3/5 Jibelian fudge layers.

#star trek #star trek voyager #drama llama janeway #neelix is the worst

4 notes · View notes

lampmanliveblogs · 1 year

Text

My poor baby, Eda please, go hug your daughter or something. You already did that? Do it again!

Now I kinda feel bad for talking so much about Hunter and not mentioning the horrible trauma Luz went through as well.

Edge of the World. That sure is a dramatic title. Not entirely sure yet what it means in the context of this episode though. A geography lesson on what lies beyond the Titan in the demon Realm?

…I kid you not, I was going to say something like ”And if there’s anyone in the main cast who’d know [what lies beyond the Titan], it’d be Lilith.” But I didn’t, because I didn’t dare get my hopes up that’d I get to see her again so soon.

Actually, this makes sense, Luz just learned about Belos’ true identity as Philip, Lilith deserves to know that too. She also deserves to know she helped permanently disfigure him and make his life just a little bit more miserable.

(oh, and Eda commanding Hooty and King to hug Luz for her is not exactly what I had in mind, but it’s close enough)

((oh, and also, great voice acting for Luz in this scene. the sense of panic in her voice, it’s perfect))

FINALLY! Finally, we get that letter back! Read it quickly now before a flaming arrow sets it on fire or something! I know our Lord Hooty works in delirious ways, but I was almost beginning to consider to maybe start questioning his supreme ways. Truly, he chose the perfect moment to deliver these news to this family already going through a massive crisis.

The letter is brief and to the point. It says that if King wants to learn more about his family, he should come visit a specific location to meet their warrior clan. The letter comes with a small piece of… rock? Or maybe a piece of horn?

The depictions of King’s father and/or ancestors did show them fighting some monster. So the idea of his family being a warrior clan lines up.

An idea comes into my head. As of now, there’s not a whole lot evidence, but hear me out…

Up till this point, my main theory has been that Belos was behind the disappearance of King’s family. That they were a powerful family/clan that posed a threat to his plans, so he got rid of them and then covered up even their existence from history. One of the main pieces of evidence to support this idea was that the ruins on King’s island were old and Belos is old. But you know who else is old, a lot older than Belos?

The Collector.

I don’t know how old The Collector is or how long he’s been sealed away, but I don’t think it’s a stretch to say he’s at least a thousand years, possibly more. And he’s been sealed away since before Philip stumbled into the Demon Realm.

What if… what if King’s ancestors were this powerful warrior clan that got into conflict with The Collector? And they sealed them away beneath the Titan… but at a great cost, with their entire species nearly wiped out.

Like I said, there’s not a whole lot of evidence to support this yet and it does raise a few questions about the timeline of these events, but I still think it’s a cool idea to consider. And like I’ve said before, I think the backstory of King’s family is going to tie into another plotline. If nothing else, it’d be efficient if we could learn both about King’s backstory and The Collector at the same time. Especially considering the show doesn’t have too much time to spare considering the whole, you know… cancelation.

#the owl house #liveblog #the owl house liveblog #toh s2e17 #edge of the world

16 notes · View notes

wind-becomes-lightning · 2 years

Note

Hi Nisi! Congratulations on turning 30! (I did that last year, good times~) I'd like to request one of your slots for Gaara x Aki Kamiya (my OC - the same one Lemony wrote about during the Ukraine event), setup is them relaxing after a long day of work. If this is ok, what sort of information do you need from me? Thank you. <3

hiiii <3 I changed the premise a little (ok I mean it depends on your definition of work... otherwise I did not change it) and I hope you like it anyway! I don't think I have a good read on Gaara and this was my first attempt so please forgive me. Aki is a sweetheart tho ~

Gaara x OC

1943 words

Adopting a traumatised child might be a little more difficult than Gaara anticipated

It had been a while since Gaara felt this tired. He walked slowly into the bedroom and nothing but his sense of dignity kept him from letting himself fall into the bed in full dirty clothes and just falling asleep right there. Aki was already in, sitting on the opposite side of her makeup mirror putting some oil in her hair. Recently she had gotten some delivered from the Land of Tea that was new and apparently protected it from too much sun exposure. Her hair, so she said, clearly hadn’t gotten the memo that she was living here for many years now. It kept breaking at the ends, so she claimed.

“Rough day?” she asked without turning her head, knowing full well by the way he walked that he was completely beat. He sighed instead of giving a reply and began to peel himself from his clothes. They were over and over full with sand, which was not unusual, not only because of his own abilities, but just the geography of Suna as a village, but today it was not his usual, thin, desert sand, it was heavy black sand that sticks to everything.

A few weeks ago Gaara had been called down to help out with a group of bandits that had attacked and murdered almost an entire village. There was a treasure there that they wanted, Gaara was told. When he turned up the treasure turned out to be no gold or jewelery but a small, scared little boy, a tiny figure, who was somehow able to use the black magnetic sand in a way that was similar to Gaara’s father.

HIs advisors had told him that he should lock the boy up, as he was a danger to himself and to others, but Gaara, suddenly plagued with memories from his own locked childhood, had not listened. Instead he had offered his hand to the boy, offered to raise and train him and give him a home, which was something Gaara wished someone had done for him when he was small. He had found Aki very understanding of it all, as she so often was. “Now that we have a child already, what difference does a second one make?” She had rocked Ruby on her arm while saying this.

Apparently done with her hair, Aki climbed over the bed to him. Gaara, finally free of his sandy clothes, let himself fall back after all. “You smell nice.” He had his eyes closed, but he could smell the light odour of green tea coming from her face.

“Thank you”, Aki said. “It feels nice to wear. Makes my hair silky.” Aki knew him well enough, they’d spent many years by each other’s side only as friends before they’d ever started dating, so she did what she knew would soothe him and went with her hand through his red hair. He hummed. Sometimes she made fun of him for purring like a cat when she did that, but he liked it too much to mind the friendly teasing.

“I don’t think he likes me very much.” Gaara thought of the angry face on Shinki when they had trained today together. He was good, extraordinarily talented, but still too angry and resentful to really step forward and really master his techniques. Using such an unique ability only in hate and anger would never help him develop, or only help him develop upon a certain point. Shinki was still too young to understand that though.

Aki hummed in understanding. “He will come around.” She said these things with a confidence that nobody Gaara ever met had had. As if she could see the future and knew it was going to come to pass. She wasn’t a blind optimist, but things she really believed in were unshakable.

“You know he reminds me a little of a desert cat” Aki said now, her fingers scratching him a little so that it shivered down his neck. “You have to be careful with them, because they have often never seen a human before.”

“And how do you deal with such a cat?” Gaara asked, a little amused by her comparing a little boy to an animal.

She leaned back a little and he could feel that he was crossing her legs underneath him. “You go up to it and give it your hand to sniff. For that you stay as far away from it as you can, make your arm as long as possible. If it shies away from you, you don't follow it, you let it move back and hide, let some time go by, then you offer your hand again. Eventually it will learn that it can trust you and then it will let you touch and eventually maybe even more.”

Gaara opened his eyes to find Aki already looking down at him. “You think I should give him time?” There had been times when social clues had been a little hard for him to understand, but with her story he was pretty sure (almost at least) that she didn’t mean to literally hold his hand out and let the boy sniff it. “That I should go easy on him?”

Aki weighed her head and her crystals reflected in the light of the lamps next to their bed. “I’m saying, he will get there. Right now he needs support and guidance and a lot of love. We still don’t know what he’s been through up until now.”

It was true. It was hard to get anything out of the boy, who refused to talk unless it was with his sand. That had been Gaara’s idea today anyway. If he took the boy out training, he thought, he might be opening up a little easier. Unfortunately this plan had backfired on him and now Gaara was behind on his paperwork and none the wiser.

They didn’t know much about the village Shinki was found in or why it had been raided by attackers looking for him. It wasn’T unlikely that people had tried to use his abilities for their gains before or that they actually had used him that way. One of the first evenings with Shinki around Aki had thought out loud if that was why he had been there in the first place, because the bandits had used him as a tool to district villages or blackmail them or such. Gaara didn’t know, the files that they kept in the Kazekage tower seemed non conclusive. Only the boy himself could enlighten them on his history.

“Well, I can tell you that he is very talented. If he works on his abilities, he might be easily surpassing me in just a few years.” Gaara closed his eyes again. He was gonna have to be careful not to fall asleep before he had taken his bath and washed himself, but laying like this with his head on his wife’S lap was just too nice to rip yourself away from.

“That’s not important right now, is it? You should let him sit in with your meetings or take him to everyday things. To show him that you are serious with him being your son from now on. Maybe he is worried you will change your mind anyway.” Aki sounded sad at that thought alone.

All of these would be a little easier if they knew the boy’s history. Maybe he’d been taken in before and then abandoned again that’S why he was so unready to talk and so ready to bite. Showing him some humanity, some stability, like Aki suggested, was maybe not the worst idea, Gaara thought. It could give him a sense of normalcy and belonging.

“Maybe we should let him meet Ruby.” Gaara opened his eyes to look at Aki as he said that. “She will be his sister after all.” Ruby was only a few months old when Shinki had come into their lives and so far they had kept the baby away from him. The baby was still fragile and the boy unpredictable and though Gaara trusted him, he also felt the responsibility for his other child. So the decision was made that Ruby would be kept away from Shinki until the boy had calmed down a little.

“You know, I was for that from the beginning”, Aki replied. “I thought it was stupidly cautious to keep the children apart. As if we couldn’t handle a 6 year old boy on our own.” She huffed at the thought. “Apart from that, he did not seem like the guy who would harm a baby. He just seems like a scared baby himself.”

“Tomorrow then.” He thought about it. He could go down to Shinki’s room and get the boy with Ruby in her chest carrier and bring them both to the Kazekage office. Aki was in the right of course, he needed to learn that he too was part of that family. Maybe all four of them could have dinner in the evening too. That might help the boy adjust to his new life and slowly open up. In time it would probably also be fruitful to bring him to see Temari and Shikadai, just to round the family out.

Gaara reached for her hand and let her fingers entwine with his. “How was your day with her?” He realised he hadn’t asked at all, that he had only talked about himself and how busy and tired he was. Aki had been the one spending the day with the baby and surely was exhausted herself, nice smelling hair or not. There were days, before Shinki had come, in which Gaara took their daughter most the day, but since the boy was in their lives Gaara spent the days with him and Aki looked after the baby.

Ruby?” Aki asked and shrugged her shoulders. “Sleeping today mostly. She was a little cranky towards the afternoon. I wonder if she hates the midday sun, which would be problematic for the future, but she always cries a little louder then.” Gaara hummed. “I mean she might get used to it in the future, but right now it is a little worrying.”

She was right to worry of course. Suna was a scorching place, and even though the houses were built to keep the warmth out, the sun was still burning hot during the afternoons. If Ruby would have issues with this it would be difficult for her to go to the academy or become a kunoichi. NO that she needed to be one, she might as well do any of the many civilian jobs that were inside of buildings. Gaara shook the thought away. This was so far in the future and so many things could change still, that it made so sense thinking about it now.

Aki circlied her fingertip over his nose and cheek. “She’s sleeping now and I hope she gets some good five hours in before she wakes up again. I had the chance to take a bath and do my hair. Maybe you could too and then we could both lay down in bed next to each other without you leaving sand everywhere.” She laughed a little and wiped a few corns off the side of the bed.

“Of course, dear.” Gaara pulled himself up and needed a second to gather himself. He’d gotten pretty sleepy through her touch on his head. “I’ll go to the bath quickly and come back immediately. Though I’m afraid I won’t be able to stay up long.”

His wife smiled and she reached out for his hand to press it. “Don’t fall asleep in the tub.”

#fanfiction things #nisi turns 30 #this is the fiftheenth story im finishing #it is the 18th of august

12 notes · View notes

void-botanist · 1 year

Text

My Year of Writing

After reading @theskeletonprior's review, I thought I would write one of my own. Original prompt by @maguayans (whose blog theme on desktop is excellent for writeblr and might be something I borrow).

Part 1: Spotify Wrapped version

This year was all about The Fourth Android and bringing it from a half-baked rewrite of an older story to something edible. To that end, I wrote 158,587 words:

30,000 for Camp NaNo in April

30,209 for Camp NaNo in July

50,363 for NaNo 2022, plus

18,013 for a May goal and

30,002 for a June goal.

I archived a lot of those words as I iterated, though, and my current draft is sitting at 43,278 words right now.

Obviously Dez was on my mind the whole time but I also invented a ton of new characters as I fleshed out species concepts and the cultural geography of the world. I also frequently got distracted with other stories in this world and started writing extra scenes about characters who had captured my attention, several of whom are on Dez's future space crew.

My Spotify Wrapped was boring. It pretty much just said "hey you got real into pop this year. We probably classed all the 80s rock and 00s indie you listened to as 'nostalgia', which is silly. Also you still listen to a ton of Approaching Nirvana, like you're in the top 0.5% of listeners". If you want my recommendations, go listen to Wreck of the Day (the song or the album or both) by Anna Nalick, and literally anything by Approaching Nirvana (but I have probably listened to the albums Cinematic Soundscapes Vol. 1 and Illusions the most). Also go (re)appreciate that 38 Special and Fitz and the Tantrums are bands that exist.

Part 2: A More Detailed Review

General

This year I continued working toward improvement, in both my writing and art.

With writing, that looked like getting more invested in planning and analyzing my own work. I finally accepted that the typical plot charts I find don't make sense to me when I try to use them, and not because I'm trying to make my stories Special (TM). Something just doesn't connect for me, and that's okay. That's not the only way to get plot structure. Instead I spent a while figuring out how to use Scrivener to outline in a way that works for me. I also tried to apply my own media analyses and those of YouTubers like Princess Weekes, La'Ron Readus, Jessie Gender, NerdSync, and James Somerton to my own work, to consider what works and what might not.

With art, that looked like learning more tools and tricks in Clip Studio Paint and Procreate, changing my settings to help me not mess up my arm constantly (adjusting my pressure curve!), and drawing at a higher resolution. I cannot stress enough how much of a difference that has made in the way my work looks and how it feels to edit it. I tend to draw small, so I'd never thought about it much, but wow everything is so smooth now. I've also been working on accepting that the imperfections in my work don't make it bad, and that being a slow and indecisive artist is also fine. angrymikko, Nadiaxel, and Chroma Moma on YouTube have been super helpful to me as I try new styles and ways of working and just having fun with my art. ronillust also makes delightful art memes and some tutorials.

P.S. if you're on desktop and you despise the format of YouTube's Shorts page, you can play Shorts as regular videos by changing the "shorts" portion of the URL to "watch". You can also set up Redirector to do this automatically (I wrote a tutorial for this on my main blog).

Writeblr

I was so much more active on writeblr this year, especially during the last few months. I followed a ton of other writers (I won't list them all here but I've been trying to reblog from them to make sure people are also aware of them) and started posting some excerpts of my own work and participating in ask/tag games. I'm having a very good time so far. Please feel free to tag me liberally in future games and prompts!

WIPs

I started working on The Fourth Android after I lost NaNoWriMo 2021, where I was working on Triad and I ran out of steam after about 28k words. On the last day of NaNo I just sprinted some stuff about Zel and Anni and a fledgling form of TFA in which Zel is a journalist and Anni teams up with her to locate Dez, who has absconded over some misunderstanding. Then I thought, what if I just worked on this? So I did. Triad is still going to happen, but it needs a lot of restructuring to work properly.

As always, my writing went from high angst to low angst as I developed that first TFA concept further, which I think speaks to how I just like stories about people being friends. Which is, you know, a pretty broad qualifier, but I find that even in stories with high stakes and high drama the thing I find most delightful is friendship dynamics (can you tell I'm thinking about Hunter x Hunter as I write this? I got kinda into that too). A lot of my thinking about character arcs has been related to "how is this friendship interesting?" and the cultural worldbuilding I've been doing is going to help me explore some of those dynamics. (This also applies to romantic couples, not least because friends to lovers is the only thing that seems to work for me in my writing.)

Books and Other Things I Consumed

I read a fair bit this year, especially compared to the last couple years (I'm actually pretty proud of this because I read maybe 2 books in all of 2019 and 2020 and only got back into reading last year). Like Harrowben, I've starred my favorites.

*The Expanse series 4-7 by James S. A. Corey (4, Cibola Burn, was a particular favorite just because I love stories set on alien planets. Overall I think The Expanse could use more theys and gays, but I'm pretty happy with it)

I, Robot by Isaac Asimov (I enjoyed how clever this one was, and also it has robots. For some strange reason I have become incredibly interested in robot stories)

Artemis by Andy Weir (honestly I think about this one a lot. I think it had some of Weir's character writing flaws as seen in The Martian but the worldbuilding was pretty compelling and I'm a sucker for epistolary bits)

*Fearless by Shira Glassman (a wonderful quick read about snowstorms and lesbian moms. I also bought several of Shira's other books but haven't read them yet)

*Iron Widow by Xiran Jay Zhao (I rarely buy books in physical form anymore but I did buy this one after I read it. Superb. Waiting for the sequel)

Light from Uncommon Stars by Ryka Aoki (I enjoyed this one a lot. I can definitely understand the criticisms, and the formatting was kinda weird. But on some level I felt like I was reading something that was in my own genre)

Currently reading

The Perfect Crimes of Marian Hayes by Cat Sebastian (the sequel to The Queer Principles of Kit Webb. It's just a super fun read)

Finlay Donovan Knocks 'Em Dead by Elle Cosimano (the sequel to Finlay Donovan is Killing It. Honestly disappointed in this one, especially compared to the first book. There are some excellent moments but there are also a lot of things that don't really seem to make sense, and I'm very frustrated with the romance part of it)

Tiamat's Wrath (The Expanse book 8) by James S. A. Corey

Books I started and plan to finish (I often put down books because they're not what I want right at that moment)

Xeni by Rebekah Weatherspoon

Mrs. Martin's Incomparable Adventure by Courtney Milan

The Doctor's Discretion by E. E. Ottoman

Children of Time by Adrian Tchaikovsky

Prelude to Foundation by Isaac Asimov

Murmuration by T. J. Klune

I won't list out all the shows I watched but I do think that Hunter x Hunter, Exception (the Netflix anime), Mob Psycho 100, and Cyberpunk: Edgerunners have all influenced the way I think about my writing and to some extent my art (seriously the color and visual storytelling choices of Edgerunners are so interesting and cool). In video games, the environment design of Hades, Risk of Rain 2's Survivors of the Void expansion, and Slime Rancher 2 really fascinated me, and I spent a ton of time using Sims 4 to build places that exist in TFA to better visualize them. (I really want a game that is just Sims 4 build mode, but with more detailed building capabilities and endless building space. I just installed Sweet Home 3D, which might do it for me.)

Here's to another year of writeblring and creating. I'd love to hear your thoughts on the stuff I mentioned above (especially Exception if you've seen it), and/or your recommendations for anything but especially cool stories about robots/androids/gays/theys.

#writing #art #writeblr #ayearofwriting #wip #to read #wip: tfa #wip: triad #wizardly things

3 notes · View notes

emmythespacecowgirl · 1 year

Note

hi emmy!! ♡ I hope you're doing well !! I wanted to ask for a ship, preferably for the Pacific :) um so here's some information on me!

Brief description of my looks; Curly hair that's brown with highlights of blonde and red. It's like a mixture of my parents hair colours. I am tall, 175cm. Fashion wise; Starting to get into more of some sort of punk fashion. I like fashion in general but punk fashion has been especially cool as of late, imo. Band tees!! I wait for the day a pretentious man asks me for songs by the hand; I'll list a whole album to spite the man. My friend calls me her scary dog privilege !! The same friend (I love her sm) labeled my eyes sea glass. My facial expressions are either sorrowful or a bit stand-offish. No in-between.

Personality; As you can tell I can be talkative but in that same sense, I am very quiet. I enjoy observing rather than speaking. I am a bit shy and tend to blush rather easily. Oftentimes, people find me to be therapeutic which has its ups and downs. I have the tendency to act like a leader, it just comes naturally? Especially if there are people much younger than me in a group setting. I love making jokes. I love seeing people smile and enjoy the moment, that's the most beautiful sight. I have photoshopped cowboy hats onto pictures of my friends & set those photos as their contact pictures. I don't think this is a personality trait but I'll say it; I am Jewish. Oh! So important thing to me; Music!! I listen to music all the time. Some bands I enjoy include; the pogues, the clash, second thoughts, the ramones, joy division, stone roses. The list goes on, actually here's a band name that'll make you laugh; "The nipples erectors" um, don't ask me lmao. Anyway!! I'm an equestrian, english discipline. Oh, I love geography!! I'm trying to memorize the world map. I write. Like a lot. I'm passionate about a lot... oh yeah, I suppose I need to mention I struggle with depression & have a baggage that I'd rather not say out loud... but it exists and greatly distorts how I view my body. also if this helps; I'm an infp and type 3 enneagram.

Anyway, thanks!! Mwah!!

Hi babe!! honestly i feel like you and i would be fashion twins irl!! your style sounds so cool ngl <3

I ship you with:

Bob Leckie from The Pacific!

ship theme song: She's My Religion by Pale Waves

okay Leckie lowkey needs and craves a punk bitch gf!!

the man tries so hard to be an edgelord stg

he needs a punk queen in his life!!!

i feel like he would just see you walking down the street one day

and he's just like

"god damn... this girl is my QUEEN"

is it your sea glass-colored eyes that captivated him first?

or your ripped fishnets and doc martens??

who can say???

dude probably writes romantic emo poetry about you at 2am in his bedroom

literally pining after you and he works up the nerve to finally ask you out

like Leckie, you're either very quiet or a chatterbox

no in between

he appreciates your quietness and conversation equally

Leckie thinks its so dang cute when you blush

so he tries to make you blush often

over the most stupid stuff, too!

he loves going on double dates with you and Runner and his gf

or Chuckler and his gf

and your natural leadership tendencies take over

he'll just smile at you stupidly

but inside he's just like

"oh yeah... that's my dang gf >:)"

he's so intrigued by your Jewish heritage

he loves going to Passover at your family's place each year

your parents are totally smitten with him

but his most favorite thing to do with you is to go to the record store on Saturdays

he'll let you pick out as many records as you want

and will gladly buy them for you

depend on Leckie to fuel your music addiction >:)

he loves how passionate you are about everything you do

he considers himself really lucky to know a girl like you <3

also, Leckie is deals with his own certain type of baggage

so he's no stranger to anxiety and depression

he hopes that you'll share your worries and doubts with him

and he'll be open and truthful with you as well :)

#enjoy #my work #the pacific ships #bob ships #the pacific #ships #bob leckie

2 notes · View notes

allisondoesthings · 5 months

Text

My master's thesis proposal presentation

I am pursuing a master of science degree in Geography at the University of Utah. As part of this degree, I have been formulating and researching a topic which will lead to a thesis publication. Due to my interest in geography, environmental management, data science, and remote sensing, as well as the collaborative efforts of my research team, I am focusing my project on wildland firefighter safety.

I was interested in pursuing a master's degree because I would like a career that intellectually challenges me, and where I feel like I make somewhat of a difference in the world. After a bachelor of science degree in Environmental Science and Management and certificates in Geographic Information Systems (GIS) and Water and Wastewater Operations from Utah Valley University, I got a job as an intern, then a GIS technician at Provo City Power. I had a fantastic start to the professional world of GIS in this position; my work environment was inviting, I enjoyed working for local government, and I learned a lot about electricity systems. However, I knew there was more out there for me in terms of occupational depth and breadth (and pay), so I started reaching out to professors and researchers at universities doing the type of environmental and technology research I was interested in.

After acceptance to a position as a Graduate Researcher in the geography department, I started my project. I have read many academic papers, completed field work, taken classes, and received hours of mentorship as part of this program. I have learned so much throughout this process, and my resume and qualifications have to have at least doubled by now. I presented my thesis proposal at the beginning of the fall 2023 semester, which can be viewed at the link in this post. I am very excited to update my changes, analyses, findings, and discussions in my final thesis report which I will get to write and present at the end of the spring 2023 semester. It has certainly been a challenging process, and I am thankful for it all.

#geography #maps #wildfire #wildland fire #big data #professional #master of science #university of utah #thesis proposal #environment #remote sensing #data science

0 notes

gnj9ata · 7 months

Text

Life Checkpoint - I think I am starting to get it.

Or at the very least I think I am, which in terms is leading to my peace of mind, which is one of the things I craved the most above all else. I just had a seizure like a couple of weeks ago....just randomly after coming from a vacation with my mom. It was to celebrate her 50th birthday. We went to Saint Croix Island.....I would say in terms of geography, I would say somewhere near The Bahamas. Amazing place. Beautiful and all of the people there was such a breathe of fresh air. It's funny because it reminds me of one of my old posts I was reading before deciding to do another life checkpoint. Stating I wanted to be around people with "High Energy", while in St. Croix, I certainly got my wish. How the love for each other transcended race, gender, political affiliation....people just wanted to have a good time and relax. After that, we came back home and I was ready to get back to work. I had relaxed and it was time to buckle down and get back into the swing of things. Well, the universe had different plans....it needed for me to look at things I didn't want to. Not when I was ready, but when it was and when I needed to learn those lessons, which I am truly grateful for. Because it has made me stronger as a person more so than I ever been. "What doesn't kill you make you stronger."

Things are starting to make so much more sense and I believe that is where Wisdom comes from or I am starting to understand where it comes from.

Death of myself, of my mom...of my brother and family has been always something I didn't want to look at. The finality...the permanence of it. I was terrified of it. Probably still am, but I believe now I am in a place where I am finally starting to accept it among with other things I didn't like about the world....my friends...or even my mentally ill brother. It's got me to look at all of these things I deemed as "bad" or "Scary" as different or necessary. Necessary in the sense where they make us stronger because of it. And the funny fucking thing about that is with me facing my demons...facing the very things I wanted to run away from has made me free to a point of bliss. And probably feeling the most happiness I have every felt in my life. Sometimes we can get in the way of the very fucking things we want. But not even know it. And trust me, it is a bliss in that ignorance to. But when you realize it and face them head on, I'm telling you....it's nirvana.

Now trust me, I am still a work in progress and I believe I still have alot to learn, but this has given me a sense of eagerness to face future demons that I can't even describe. I write all of this to help at least one person, because at the end of the day...in my heart...in my very soul, deep down, that is all I want to do....is help people and make sure we learn from the past in the sense were we don't have to bump our head as much as our elders have.

But person reading this.....even for myself because life might beat me down to the point where I forgot my damn self.

Two things: The thing you don't want to look at, the thing that scares you the most, I humble you to face it head on. It's going to make you sick, you are going to have this burn hate in your heart...in your stomach because you don't want to do it, but I promise you. When you come out the other end, you will feel the universe's love.

And number two: Ask yourself this question....if there was no money in the world and you wanted to do something simply because you love it or you didn't get any reward from it at all...you simply wanted to do it for the sake of it. Do it.

Do it immediately...now I am not saying it isn't going to be easy. The things we want the most never are, but I am saying you will prove it to yourself that you can and that above all else is what it feels like to also feel the universe's love.

Regardless of the outcome...this is important.

Do it for the sake of doing it.

Creation is the highest form of the universe. Love is the highest form of the universe.

And maybe I sound like a fucking nut case saying all of this, but I don't care. I am living my truth. And I urge you to do the same. "God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can........................

and the wisdom to know the difference."

#love #people #death #strength #serenity prayer

1 note · View note

desperation-is-my-middle-name · 1 year

Text

Welcome to my series of random How to’s that may be updated or not depending on….anything really.

So. My first, crucially long How to: World-building (because i am an idiot)

You’ve been warned….

1. Establish the rules (the ones you may or not listen to, depending on the mood and also how the moon shines today):

Start by determining the overall framework of the world you want to create. Consider factors like physics, technology, magic, culture, geography, and social norms. Think about what makes your world unique and different from the real world, then establish the ground rules for how everything functions.

2. Develop the characters (that will totally not die, yes,promise,oops):

Once you have a basic understanding of the world you're creating, you can start developing the characters that will exist in it. Consider their races, cultural backgrounds, beliefs, hobbies, and motivations. Think about how your characters fit into the larger society of your world and how they will interact with one another.

3. Expand the details (aka the fun stuff, the stuff you love, the stuff you despise once you see that you can’t just copypaste the real world with some fairy glitter thrown in)(totally not speaking out of personal experience):

Next, dive deeper into the cultural aspects of your world. Consider aspects like fashion, cuisine, music, art, and architecture. Flesh out the history of your world and how its society has evolved over time.

(Maybe consider how the geography and climate have shaped your world and the impact this has had on its inhabitants, if that is important for your story. I mean if you do some the-world-dies-we-die-but-it’s-alright-we-have-a-unicorn plot (i dunno,leave me alone) that’s probably important but we don’t need that in the you-are-the-first-person-to-ever-hit-me-i-love-you plot ,right?)

4. Create conflicts (spill the tea, make it spicy, you call it):

Once you have a fully-realized world and characters, think about what kind of challenges they would face. What are the conflicts and tensions existing in your world? What kind of external forces may threaten the stability of the society or individuals within it? These conflicts are what will drive the plot of your story.

5. Write the story (So do what you wanted to do at first but with like more sleep deprivation than before and with no idea where to start because you have indeed information now but like overflowing amounts of the latter) (again, totally not been there before):

Finally, write your story, incorporating all the elements of your world that you've created along the way. Make sure your characters feel fully-realized and that the settings are immersive and believable. Use your conflicts to drive the plot of your story, and keep your readers engaged with vivid descriptions and relatable experiences.

Last advice: use all of the 5 senses. Sometimes less of this and more of that helps with the flow. For example: no Tiffany Theresia from this-and-that i don’t need to know how your dinner looks. Describe how it tastes and smells, that’s making things relatable and more enjoyable.

Uffff so now my fingers hurt and you (hopefully) learned something today. Yaaayyyy success now leave me alone

#writing tips #worldbuilding #how to tag #how to write

1 note · View note

writingwithcolor · 3 years

Text

Taking History Into Fantasy: Motives for Gathering Inspiration

@missdrarrydawn asked

Hi! Here's me resubmiting to clear up my bad wording, sorry about that. So, I wanted some advice regarding what I'm working on. I'm planning to create my own fantasy races (all humans, race meaning asian people and black people and white people) in my fantasy world for a book, and I want these races to be based on/inspired by real life races & cultures, specifically the Asian and African diaspora. Now of course, those are incredibly broad descriptors as both Africa and Asia are incredibly diverse with the cultures and ethnicities living there. So I did more research into it, and found the cultures and history of the Orome people in Ethiopia and the Hmong people from Southeast Asia & China captivated me most and inspired me most so I was hoping to use that. I'm currently making my way through texts about these people's history, traditions, beliefs, religions, the geography of their land and their culture in general, just studying basically. I'm white myself but I want to create a rich diverse world that people can feel represented in because it pulls from the real world. However, at the same time, because I am hoping to base this off real people and their stories, I started thinking about exactly how many creative liberties I should take. The races would be original creations inspired by these cultures with parts blended into them, which made me realize that I would have to change the names of some traditions or beliefs, change up, add and/or remove parts, change the history etc., because, I don't feel like just picking up an entire culture and history and just dropping it as it is into a fantasy setting would merge well because that seems to me like it would be shallow and like I'm just using someone's culture for my own needs without any regard, which is horrible and I don't want to come off that way remotely. At the same time, I'm aware that changing names and changing beliefs and traditions and history speaks to three very hurtful things to people of color I want to represent (at least I imagine it would be hurtful, I'm not 100% sure):

1. That I, as the author, don't think someone's culture is 'good enough' so I needed to change it.

2. That changing it up to fit the setting is just trying to shoehorn and force it in for brownie points basically.

3. That changing the history would be marginalizing and trivializing their struggles and would even be a form of erasure.

None of these are my intent of course, but I've done a lot of thinking on it and realized it all might come off very wrong and end up being very hurtful regardless of intentions, so finally what I'm wondering is:

Would I be better off putting in the work and creating everything myself, from races, to appearance, to history, to culture, and keep the concept of diversity self-contained within the book's setting itself rather than what I had originally planned to do?

My one concern with doing that is the fact that I feel like it would ruin the representation I'm going for, because while I know people can identify with fictional characters, I feel like people of color wouldn't feel represented or included enough when everything is just made up and removed from the real world in that sense, and making sure all readers feel included, PoC as well, is very important to me.

I know I've made a lot of assumptions here, I'm sorry about that, I just really want to get this right.

I'm writing this to hear from people of color and see what advice you can give on writing my story, because your blog has been incredibly resourceful and helpful to me thus far and I trust your advice.

Thank you so much in advance.

:DD

On the Hmong, and Cultural Trauma

Why are you taking inspiration from Hmong? Just why? Trace your logic and look at it from another point of view. The Hmong are basically stateless. There’s a lot of heavy topics involved in Hmong history including slavery, genocide (multiple times, mind), and assimilation. You are taking inspiration from the Hmong because they “captivate you.” Even though the Hmong have faced persecution in many countries (China, Laos, Vietnam, etc.) and have had to move from country to country because of it ...you’re exploiting my people’s tragedies for your story. And now you want to change it? You see the Hmong as objects of entertainment rather than actual people. When Hmong are already underrepresented in stories, this could be seen as cultural appropriation. Is this honestly your story to tell? Why do you need to tell this story right now? Please stop and reevaluate what you’re writing and why.

Also, read WWC’s post on tragedy exploitation and WWC’s tag on coding. Lesya wrote a great guide on how to racially code characters, and we also answered some questions about cultural coding in a speed round.

Also, I’d like money. I always enjoy some money. Be a dear and donate to my ko-fi at https://ko-fi.com/scinerd. I would very much appreciate a big tip. Thank you!

-Mod Sci

On Race

The concept of “race” in the human sense is a very fraught history, which I’m going to address before I get into any sort of solutions for the underpinnings of this ask.

“Race” as we know it today was invented specifically for the purposes of dehumanization within the context of primarily European colonialism. If people from elsewhere were a separate race, then it was easier to believe they weren’t quite human. This distancing from humanity made it possible to believe that colonizing them was fine, because the people getting colonized weren’t actually people. They belonged to a whole other race.

Hence why various racial terms are so fraught with slurs, because the words were meant to remind others they weren’t human. “Human” was in reference to white Europeans exclusively. “Savage” is one such example, being a reference to Indigenous populations globally, and was meant to remind us we were less. (yes, savage is a slur, I flinch when white people use it. BIPOC, especially Black and Indigenous, are in a place to reclaim it)

Genetically, there is no such thing as “race”. There are genes for various portions of what we see as various “races” (eyes, nose, skin tone), but these genes are not exclusive to any given population. It is a sociological concept that has been treated as a biological fact and used to disenfranchise people.

But, at the time fantasy was starting to become a codified genre, race was still considered to be very biologically based. Hence why we use the term “race” to denote different species in fantasy, and hence why so many of those different species are heavily coded as PoC. The environment that created these classifications was very, very hostile to non-white cultures.

This is not getting into the new age movement’s creation of “root races” in the late 1800s which further pushed the narrative into dehumanization. I really don’t want to get too deep into it, but the fifth and “most advanced” root race was called aryan, and that should tell you a lot. Indigenous Australians were considered the third root race, which was absolutely not considered human but instead simply humanoid.

So as you can see, your use of “races” here, despite clarifying they are all human, comes with a legacy of colonialism that needs to be unpacked. Really needs to be unpacked. Because by thinking of these non-European cultures as separate races, you’re in a mental place that is starting from a legacy of dehumanization. This will make representing them respectfully much more difficult, because you haven’t examined what you’ve been taught about “the other” (PoC).

Fantasy is a deeply political genre. It was codified and detailed in depth back when people still believed head shape indicated intelligence, and used that to make immigration laws because countries only wanted smart people to immigrate. And then those same deeply racist codified tropes were repeated in generations of ripoffs that just perpetuated all the bigotry of their forefathers.

People are starting to realize the problems and political baggage in the past five to seven years, with stuff like homebrew (but mass produced) Dungeons and Dragons add-on materials that remove race and replace it with Ancestry and Culture.

You’ll note that the publication date on that is 2020, and it did not come from Wizards of the Coast (the makers of DnD).

This is why it’s extremely dangerous for people to craft their own fantasy races before they’ve unpacked this political baggage. Because a lot of fantasy is really, really racist. It was codified by people who had grown up at the height of the British empire. By people who grew up before racial segregation stopped being the law of the land.

As a result, the tropes that come bundled into fantasy are by and large… problems. And modern writers are left to try and reconcile these tropes, and to do enough decolonial internal work to realize that they need to really dig deep into what they believe about people and other groups in order to do something not terribly hurtful.

This is why I suggest you not simply make your own diversity, at least not yet. What makes you so sure that you won’t end up building in racist tropes that feel race-neutral to you, because they’re so commonplace so they “have to” be neutral? What makes you so sure that building your own diversity will be immune to all the pitfalls of white supremacy?

Fantasy writers have been walking into really problematic tropes for a century, because they’re pulling from a usually white upbringing, surrounded by white editors, in white academia, before anybody really stopped to ask “uh, is this respectful?” because being respectful wasn’t on their radars. It’s only recently this logic has been questioned, and it’s far too new a line of questioning to truly have any sort of path to the other side.

On motivations for diversity.

It’s fine-ish (but entitled and privileged) to start in a place such as “x culture captivated me.” That’s a place where most white writers start, because most white writers haven’t been taught how to engage with other cultures. But the problem with this mindset is you don’t know what you don’t know, and you work your way down the mental checklist of steps to try and be respectful.

Adding diversity looks a little something like this, in the early stages:

Realize you have too many white people

Pull from large, well-known groups of PoC in the modern day to add diversity (“east Asian”, “African”, “Indian”)

Realize those categories are too broad, narrow it down

Start researching that individual culture out of fascination

See what aspects fit best in your fantasy world and what you’ll need to create to transfer the culture over

You are, presently, at the last step of the above checklist.

At no point in that checklist is there a step to ask yourself, “How would anyone in the culture feel about me going about it this way?”

As Sci detailed above, it really doesn’t feel that great to get a question about “x culture captivated me so now I want to incorporate it into my fantasy world, what am I allowed to change as an outsider?”

You are now at the step where you have to ask yourself how other people would feel about your own process for why you want to represent them. Do you want to simply show off this super cool population that’s really fascinating because it’s new to you, or do you want to respectfully include this population because they exist in the real world and therefore deserve accurate representation of themselves?

The more respectful choice is the latter, and if you want to help marginalized groups feel seen, it’s the best choice to make. If you just want to show off being so well-educated, you’ll end up leaving bad tastes in a lot of mouths.

On what you’re allowed to change

I just published a whole guide on this: Crafting A Fantasy Culture, or the fallacies of using culture in the singular

Tl;dr: if you’re only taking one small culture from a broad region, you haven’t pulled in enough cultural context to truly represent that group, and you need to research more of the surrounding cultures to represent them.

Might I suggest de-homogonizing Europe, instead?

There are plenty of people of colour in Europe, who have been in Europe for over four hundred years at minimum, that you can keep within a European context. You don’t have to jump right into hard mode of researching all of Southeast Asia to get the full cultural context for the Hmong. If you want to show East Asian people, Japanese people made it to Spain and stayed there in the 1600s, and I’m sure you can find Chinese, Vietnamese, and/or Thai people (as we’d know them today) who lived in various parts of Europe either temporarily or permanently.

If you want African people, there were a whole bunch of them who existed within Europe (especially North African) that you can look at instead of having to look up West Asia and Ethiopia to find out how the Oromo existed in their context. (quick thing: Oromo is the people in Ethiopia, Orome is from Lord of the Rings)

By focusing on diversity that already exists within Europe, you can add diversity on easy mode. It’s like wading into the shallow end of the pool to get used to the water instead of jumping off the high-dive into twenty foot deep water and you maybe not having the best grasp on swimming.

You don’t have to worry about being respectful by modifying their customs, because they’ve already modified them for living in Europe. You are working with a pre-existing blueprint of how these people travelled, adapted, and diffused into the region. It gives you a much sturdier base to work off of.

As WWC said in Can White People Write PoC MCs?, the important part as an outsider writing something is you cannot decide what is appropriate to change. By focusing your research on Europe when writing European fantasy, you don’t have to change much of anything.

Overall:

To not put too fine a point on it, I think you’ve bitten off more than you can chew by going about diversifying your writing this way.

When you’re starting from a place of not knowing fantasy races are a fraught concept, when you’re starting from a place of writing nothing but white people and not really knowing much about any communities of colour, jumping into picking two very niche groups from whole separate continents is not an easy thing to do.

I took fifteen years of on and off research to be somewhat comfortable writing about North India during the Mughal period, and I had a base of growing up around North Indian people so the culture wasn’t completely alien to me. That amount of work isn’t unreasonable, either.

There’s nothing shameful about just de-homogenizing Europe before you start looking to research outside of it. By starting off just exposing yourself to European communities and American communities, you’ll learn a ton that you never would have learned had you just kept to academic sources on a very small group of people.

And remember: we all start somewhere. Just because you can’t do it now doesn’t mean it’ll be out of reach forever. Just keep learning.

~ Mod Lesya

#asks #worldbuilding #fantasy #coding #creator responsibility #diversity #culture #research #culture coding #race coding

587 notes · View notes

artzee-bee · 3 years

Text

Best friend’s ex | Benny Weir x reader

Fandom: My babysitter’s a vampire

Request: “ Um if you don’t mind can you write for mbav? Something along the lines of the reader and Ethan try a fake relationship thing cause Ethan asked her to? Like to get to Sarah/ or get her attention. And everyone is shocked cause they thought Benny and the reader would date instead cause all 3 of them are childhood friends”

Genre:Fluff mostly but I guess a little angst torwards the end

Warnings: some arguing and also it’s LONG, don’t say I didn’t warn you

A/N: This has a little Ethan x reader too but over all it’s Benny with a guest apperence from jelous!Benny torwards the end (or at least that’s what I was going for)

~~~

“Wait, you’re dating?! Like for real dating?!��

You clinged tighter to Ethan’s arm “Yeah, we are” but you weren’t. You didn’t want to lie to your friends and it was honestly making you kinda uncomfy but you were doing it for E.

“Ok so how long has this been going on for?” asked Benny. You and your entire friend group were gathered around his locker and you decided to break the news to them about your and Ethan’s “relationship”, which was all bullcrap. He had asked you a couple nights before to pretend. He was hoping it would get him closer to Sarah.

“Um, no more than a month” E said, trying to sound as confident as possible and doing a fairly good job at it. Of course you saw right through him but everyone else seemed to buy his act.

“Well that’s...interesting news” Sarah laughed awkwardly

“You think so? Why?”

The group went silent for a moment

“Well, just cause” Sarah started, nervousness laced into her tone “I mean I would have guessed that Benny and Y/N were going to get together eventually.” Rory and Erika just nodded in agreement while Benny tried to suppress a nervous laughter.

“I mean, come on guys” he said “ I’ve known Y/N for just as long as Ethan.”

“Yeah, but you two just always seemed, I don’t know, closer?”

“Well” Ethan interrupted “ seems like you were wrong on that one.”

Suddenly aware of how rude she sounded, Sarah babbled some lame excuse and left quickly, face red from embarrassment. Rory and Erika left as well, each in their own direction, but not before congratulating the couple once more. Benny was the only one left.

“You good Benny?” E asked

“Yeah, I guess it’s just interesting seeing you like this”

“I hope you’re not mad or anything I mean we…” you were quickly cut off by Benny

“No, no, absolutely, not! I’m really happy for you guys! My two best friends are in love, that’s really cool!” A pink tint made its way onto your cheeks hearing Benny say “in love”, even though you knew it wasn’t true. E smiled at you and hid his face in your hair. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he placed his hands on your hips, swaying you two back and forth for a moment

“Alright, well I gotta go. Chem starts in a few” you told your boys and headed to class, not before hugging both of them and leaving Ethan with a quick peck on the cheek

As soon as you got to class however, you texted your “boyfriend”

“Think that went pretty well”

“I think so too. Everyone seemed to buy it!”

“I know!” you said and the conversation ended like that.

You switched your attention back to your teacher, who was discussing your next assignment but even though your eyes were on her, your mind was replaying Sarah’s comment on repeat. You and Benny, huh? You couldn’t say you disliked the idea or that you’ve never thought about it. You’ve always felt different when hanging out with him compared to all your other friends.You felt more free and comfortable. You couldn’t stop the smile on your face from the fuzzy feeling you got just thinking about Bens and you together.

“So how long are we gonna be doing this for?” you texted Ethan. Now that you thought about it, you could never date Benny after this. The sudden realisation made your stomach twist in knots. He would never even go on a date with you if he thought you to be Ethan’s ex! Bro code or whatever but you couldn’t blame them!

“I don’t know for sure, I don’t see why it should last more than a couple months.”

“Ok” you didn’t mind helping E. He was a great guy and one day, some amazing girl is gonna see that and be all over him, even if it’s not Sarah! And he’s going to fall in love and have a beautiful wife and a happy family and this thing you are doing right now is just gonna be a silly high school memory to look back at. You tried not to overthink everything like you usually do and go with the flow, have fun.

It was surprisingly easy to do. Holding hands and occasional cheek kisses didn’t mean much and you never had a “proper kiss”, telling everyone you were simply not fans of PDA. It didn’t feel much like you were a couple, just closer friends. Touchier.

About 4 months down the line, you and Ethan go on your last “date”, which really just meant pizza night at Morgan’s.

“Thanks for all this Y/N, I know you didn’t have to and it might have been awkward at times but it means a lot that you went with it all this time” Ethan says sincerely while pouring you a glass of soda

“Don’t be silly E! You are one of my best friends. I would do anything for you.”

“Yeah but, now you and Benny won’t be…” he didn’t finish his sentence, as if he wasn’t sure if bringing this up was even a good idea or if it was gonna make you mad. You told E about your crush on your best friend not long after your first day as a “couple”. You couldn’t lie to him and quite honestly, you needed someone to vent to. The more you thought about Benny, the more it hurt and while you weren’t mad at Ethan for bringing it up now (you knew he had the best of intentions), it was putting you off

“Let’s not talk about that tonight” you said softly

“Right, yes, of course! Sorry” you giggle and reached out for your glass of soda, raising it up

“A toast!” you declared dramatically, making E laugh “To our breakup!” Ethan raised his own glass and clicked it with yours

“To our breakup!” he said before you both took a sip of your drinks

You laid down on the couch, getting ready to watch Scare Finder. Your head was resting on one of Ms. Morgan’s decorative pillows and you placed your feet on E’s lap. He rolled his eyes at you and you giggled

“I love you!”

“I love you too babe” he joked before laying down next to you and wrapping you in a hug. The couch was a bit too small for the both of you to lay down side by side and you felt the left side of your body hanging off the edge but E’s arms were around your waist, holding you and you felt safe

“Can we..” Ethan whispered nervously “can we keep cuddling during shows even if we aren’t boyfriend- girlfriend anymore?”

“Yes of course” you giggled

“Good, cause this is really comfortable” he whispered in your neck

“I know, I love it too”

~~~

Your breakup was a much bigger deal than you anticipated.Your friends seemed not only shocked, but heartbroken too. You didn’t tell them anything about why you ended your relationship, saying it was too early and you didn’t feel like talking about it but that you were still close friends and nothing was going to change

Things went back to normal afterwards, except now you were single and so was Benny and you couldn't help the invisible pull, dragging you closer and closer to him. Everyone of his silly jokes made you crack up and you couldn’t even be mad at him when his failed spells ended up in a big mess that you and the friend group needed to solve. You hadn’t realised how much you missed him until you broke up with E. Whether or not that relationship was real, it felt like a real reason to stay away from Benny. It felt like you were taken because everyone else belived you to be. You couldn’t make a move on him because everyone knew you to have a boyfriend but now you didn’t and you couldn’t help yourself from looking at B in a different light.

You were over at his house, helping him pack some herbs he had to organise for his grandma, as punishment for wasting all her old ones on some spell. You were stuffing dried leaves in tiny jars, while Benny was busying himself attaching little tags to them, with the name of each plant.

“Thanks again for coming to help me, you didn’t have to”

“Anytime Bens, you know I’m always here for you” you looked at him and smiled sweetly. He looked into your eyes and said

“I know, Thank you” you nodded and switched your focus back on the plants, hoping he wouldn’t notice the blush on your face. Lucky for you, he started telling a story that happened in his geography class and things slowly fell into their usual, casual place, at least up until you had to leave.

You placed the last little jar in its respective spot on the shelf

“I think this is it, right?” Benny asked

“It should be”

“Perfect, I’m in dire need of a snack. You want chips? I have some upstairs”

“No, it’s late, I should head home”

“Um, ok yeah. No problem” but none of you moved after that, you just looked at one other for a little bit, until the awkwardness got too much and you took your backpack and headed to the door

“Thanks again” Benny said right when you reached the door

“No problem” and then time froze again. You got lost in his pretty eyes and barely noticed his chest rising and falling faster with every second that passed until, you both found yourselves in each other's arms, kissing deeply and desperately, as if you’ve waited all your life for this. Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling at loose strands, his hands running up and down your back, bringing you as close to him as possible. All your senses were intoxicated with him and finally, the little pit in your chest disappeared. Your lips fit together like puzzle pieces but than, all of a sudden, Benny pushed you away aggressively

“No, I can’t do that!” his back turned to you, but you saw the red in his face and his hands went to his head, massaging the back of his neck just like you had been doing

“Benny…”

“No, no, you are Ethan’s ex and we can’t do that! I can’t do that!”

“B, listen to me!” you tried to step towards him but at your slightest movement, he jumped back, finally turning to face you

“Y/N, that was a mistake and I’m sorry! We shouldn’t have done that! It was a mistake” your eyes stung from the tears threatening to spill down your cheeks

“Don’t say that…” you could barely hear your own voice and were genuinely surprised when B replied

“Of course it was! As much as I wanted to do it and as right as it may have felt, it’s barely been a few weeks since your last relationship with MY BEST FRIEND and your best friend too and we can’t, I CAN’T do this to him! You, you guys dated and…”

“But we didn’t!” you said

“Of course you did, are you out of your mind?” Benny looked at you, teary eyed and desperate “I saw you, we saw you! Holding hands and cheek kisses! He had his arm around your back every moment of every goddamn school day and every time I wished it was me! He had all of you and he could hold you during movie nights and spend all his free time with you and kiss you and run his hands through your hair and everytime he did it I imagined that I was in his spot, hoping you would look at me with the same love and admiration that you looked with at him but now it’s too late! It doesn’t matter that he didn’t cherish you better while he had you because I still can not take you! I can’t do that to him!”

“Benny it wasn’t real!”

“What does that even mean Y/N?” he was yelling now, but you knew he wasn’t angry, just hurt. You saw the tears in his eyes and how hard he tried to stop them from running down his face.

“We weren’t ever dating! We just pretended!” the madness in his eyes turned to a question, an invitation for you to continue “It was all a show Bens. He wanted to impress Sarah. He asked me to fake a relationship with him.”

Benny leaned over the table, resting his body on his arms. He seemed to be thinking for a while, until he said “That’s a stupid idea”

You laughed “I thought so too when he told me” Benny seemed to think some more before saying

“Such an Ethan idea to have” which only made you laugh more

“So it was never real?” he asks you finally

“No! It was just an act” but even now, Benny couldn’t say anything. He was looking at his hands nervously. You took a deep breath and said the one thing you could think of

“He knows if that’s what you are wondering” the boy looked at you with questioning eyes again “Ethan I mean”

“Ethan knows what?”

“That I like you” Benny straightened and looked at you with soft eyes once more, you felt your cheeks heat up and turned to walk away but Benny quickly grabbed your wrist and pulled you into him, holding you in a tight hug.

“So, does that mean I can kiss you again?” a small smile tugged at your lips

“Please do”

#mbav x reader #mbav #benny weir #benny weir x reader #benny weir imagine #benny weir fluff #benny weir angst #ethan morgan x reader #ethan morgan imagine

719 notes · View notes

max1461 · 3 years

Text

I've mentioned this before, but I'm highly skeptical of the concept of "little c" culture, at least as it's typically invoked.

The term Culture, with a capital C, is sometimes used in the social sciences to denote what has also been called "the human capacity for culture" or "the human propensity for culture"; that is, the tendency of humans to gather together in groups, build institutions and systems of social norms, pass down knowledge generationally, etc. It's our wont to do social stuff larger than the family unit, basically. And, to be clear, this notion of Culture is something I very much believe in (I mean, how could you not?).

But then there's culture, with a lower-case c, which is a count noun rather than a mass noun. That is, one talks about "a culture": French culture, Japanese culture, American culture, etc. And this notion, I'm extremely skeptical of.

For one thing, it's not clear at all how one is meant to coherently draw the boundaries between different cultures. Culture often tends to vary (roughly) continuously, both over time and across geography. It's not clear, for example, if one should consider the American culture of today to be "the same one" as the American culture of 200 years ago, and/or consider the American culture of 200 years ago to be "the same one" as that of 17th century Britain, etc. This is true geographically as well: in precisely what provençal village does "French culture" transition to "Spanish culture"? You might try to use language as a proxy for this question, but even that won't work! The Romance languages (the family including French, Spanish, etc.) are a dialect continuum. There is no village where they suddenly stop speaking French and start speaking Spanish! The "French" on one side of the border and "Spanish" on the other may well be more similar to one another than either is to the Paris or Madrid standards.

In much of the world, deliberate nation building over the last few hundred years has obscured the difficulty of defining cultural boundaries. In France, for example, before the introduction of standardized education only a minority of the country spoke a Romance dialect that we would today recognize as "French". The ancestor of contemporary standard French was the dialect specifically of Paris and the surrounding region, while the rest of the country spoke... other stuff. Now, due to the policy of teaching standard French in schools and using it in most media, it is spoken by an overwhelming majority of the country.

[Sadly, it's the middle of the night and I can't dig up the source with exact numbers and years at the moment; I'll try to add it in a reblog tomorrow. IIRC the estimates were: < 30% speaking French before 1700, greater than 90% today. However, I don't feel comfortable making those specific claims without a source in hand, so take that with a grain of salt.]

This fact is a microcosm of a broader trend —that points of national and cultural unity, often interpreted as arguments for political nationalism, are more often in fact products of it.

But, prior to such nation building projects, the cultural and linguistic map of Europe looked much more like the cultural and linguistic map of Africa or the pre-colonial Americas, an intricate hodgepodge of different language varieties, institutions, customs, and political units, often with no clear line where one ends and another begins. This is not an aberration, this is the norm for human societies.

This brings me to my second point of concern over the notion of culture: there are various sorts of human activity that comprise big C Culture, and they don't always correlate with one another. Language isn't always correlated with government which isn't always correlated with tradition, etc. There are practices, concepts, institutions, and so forth that are shared by multiple "cultures", and within each "culture" there are practices, concepts, and institutions that are not shared by everyone. Thus, rather than a collection of discrete units (or even of a field of pure continuous variation between different extrema), the cultural landscape has a character more akin to a tapestry: different elements of Culture interwoven in complex and unpredictable ways, overlapping in different combinations across the map.

The consequence of all this —that cultural variation is continuous, that internal variation within "a culture" is often comparable to or greater than external variation between "cultures", and that different elements of culture often vary on axes totally orthogonal to one another— is that drawing coherent cultural boundaries can be a very hard thing to do indeed!

Finally, compounding all this difficulty, there's the issue that different people have different opinions on where we should draw these cultural lines, and those opinions are often politically motivated. Taking culture as a fundamental element in your understanding of the world requires taking a position on a thousand political debates large and small just in order to have a coherent picture of the ontology of human society. This is a very bad position to put oneself in, clarity-of-thinking wise!

Of course, the notion of "a culture" is just an abstraction, and in some cases it will be an abstraction that models reality better than in others. But in general, I tend to find that people treat culture in this sense not as an abstraction, but as a fundamental part of reality. And I think this is an extremely dangerous thing to do, both in terms of its political consequences and in terms of its impact on one's ability to think clearly about the world.

#society #for posterity

185 notes · View notes

syndxlla · 3 years

Text

Part Fourteen of the More to Love Series

Summary: The wedding is in a week, and you’re suddenly very aware of how little time you have left to figure out what to do. You decide to take matters into your own hands, and formulate a plan. Din invites you to a night of experience, and you admit a simple truth to him.

Word Count: 11.8k words, NO USE OF ‘y/n’

Warnings: SMUT (PiV, a little degradation, praise, creampie, cockwarming, dirty talk), use of alcohol, drunkness, mentions of scars, sexual harassment

Author’s note: HELLOOOO! this is a fun chapter, and i just wanna let y’all know that we are in the endgame now 😭. don’t worry, i still have so many plans for both the princess and din and just the whole world that MTL is set in. thank you for all the support on this story! it never ends and i will forever be thankful for your love!

Part thirteen

You were a fool for thinking the castle would start to settle down after the ball passed. Alternatively, the planning did not lessen, but instead shifted from masquerade prep to wedding prep. The decorations were taken out, and new samples were brought in. It was made very clear to you that this was really Korkie’s wedding and not your own, because every decision and plan that was made was done without your input.

It had been a few days since Din told you everything, and he truly told you everything. You had plenty of time to reflect on it, and process everything. You worked so hard to gain perspective on it, to try and give your future family the benefit of the doubt, and to understand the full situation. However, you ultimately sided with Din, your heart aching for the situation he was placed in. It had been apparent that he would not have told you any of that if he did not hold immense trust in his heart for you, and the word Ka’rta over grew into your thoughts for all these days. The both of you had agreed to tone things down, deciding it would be a fair middle ground. Less nightly endeavors would keep you two apart, and therefore less suspicious, but it especially made the reunions of passion more sweet.

Your mother was long gone, she left three days ago, and finally you felt that you had the palace to yourself again without Hugo and various other guests breathing down your neck. Your time as Corellian Princess was in it’s endgame now as your imminent marriage to Korkie was just on the horizon, and you still had no idea how to escape from it. Most of your days, you spent making up excuses for missing afternoon tea, and trying extra bites of potential wedding cake flavors in the kitchen. Regardless of what you did, however, Din was always there with you, three paces behind. You were also given the opportunity to dismiss him more often now. The eager infatuation with him has slowly become a steady understanding of feelings, and the two of you were able to fall into a groove without the anxiety of wondering how the other felt, and how long it would be until you reunited. Tradition and duty had lightened up as well, and there were less eyes on how Din was treating you, which gave you the liberty to give him back an ounce of his life.

This was one of the best things to ever happen to Din. You would retire to your room early every night, hoping no one would wonder if you were ill, and because you were away from the eye of Kryze, you could allow Din to leave the castle early. At seven, sometimes even six, he would go home to his son. It made everyone happy, and that is why it was important to happen. This was much preferred over a midnight dismissal. You also noticed a change in Din’s presence after this change was made. He was springier, chuckling more, even sitting down when the two of you were alone. He had finally relaxed around you, and you accredit to the pure fact that he was finally getting more rest.

Those were your favorite parts of the day: when you and Din would find a quiet corner in the library, or maybe an empty sitting room, and he would just tell you about the world. He had been everywhere, you were convinced. He went into detail of cities in Coruscant, explaining how they have extravagant silk markets and countless taverns with exotic drinks. He described the heat of the desert, and how he once had to search for a merchant’s missing camel in return for clean water, a story that led to one of the scars on his back and a very rational fear of the desert at night. His favorite place to tell you about, however, was his home. The Nevarro Frontier clearly had a special place in his heart, and he spoke fondly of it’s tall mountains and tight-knit communities.

“Nothing like the Mandalore you know.” He would sigh. A kingdom that may have been fantastic on the outside, but was riddled with war and political division and heartache on the inside. “Maybe I can take you there someday.”

It was those words that sparked your imagination, and the plan began to formulate.

The real dilemma you had been in all this time was trying to figure out how to live happily with a man you truly loved, but also protect your kingdom, home and family. It was a delicate situation, one with many sighs and frustrated nights. However, after Din explained his battle with Bo to you, it’s resolution was slowly becoming more clear. There had to be a way you could win in this story. You would not give hope on that truth.

When Din mentioned taking you to his home, you realized that there was very little keeping you from up and leaving Mandalore in the night. It would be a scandal, it would probably cause an all-out war, but it was worth a try, or at least a dream.

Now, when you had afternoon conversations with Din in the library, you were studying maps of the world. You familiarize yourself with the terrain of Mandalore, how long it might take to get to the Sundari Front, and drawing out escape routes on the backs. Din assumed you had thrown yourself into cartography so you could grasp his stories and adventures fully, which wasn’t altogether false, but it went deeper than that. You tried to keep it under control, but you were slowly becoming more and more consumed by your studies: a recurring issue in your life.

Din hadn’t realized you were becoming obsessed with the geography of the world until about a week after the ball, when you fell asleep by candlelight at a table in the library, your face smushed into the parchment of a map depicting some old blueprints that he had paid no attention to, and your hair falling over your eyes. It was almost dawn, and he had come back from his time with his son already, distressed to see no one had the courtesy to wake you up and take you to your room. He didn’t really expect much else from Mandalore, however.

Din blows out the candle, and gently picks you up, being extra careful not to wake you, and carries you bridal-style out of the library and to your suite. It was these moments that Din looked forward to the most. When he did not have to put on a face, when he did not have a million rules to follow. When your sleepy head rests into his chest, and he can look upon your face with his own eyes, no helmet to obstruct it.

As Din looked upon your resting face, there was much he realized. He first noticed that scar on your body that he hadn’t seen before, and swiped his thumb over it. He also studied the way your chest rose and fell with each breath, how you were perfectly still, and yet completely full of life and beauty and pure goodness as you slept. Din deeply admired how much you cared, how much you cared about everything. The wellbeing of the staff, the customs of Mandalore, him. You threw yourself into your passions, and you had a deep love for the hobbies and aspects of your life that no one else he knew possessed. You were a dedicated person, and he found both attraction and respect ino that.

Din also realized a fundamental truth at the very moment the sky began to lighten up, your cracked balcony doors letting the curtains blow into the suite dreamily. Din felt at peace. It had been so long since he felt peaceful. Too long. He felt the same type of peace here with you that he would normally feel sleeping under the stars with his son nestled to his side. Or the same feeling of peace that he felt when he held his son for the first time. It was a rare feeling, and it was pure. It was so rare that it was only saved for the people most important to him in his life.

You woke up a few hours later, changed out of the pale yellow gown you fell asleep in. Din had not only put you in your nightgown, but had taken the time to pull your hair so it was out of your face. He was more thoughtful than you could have ever imagined. The Knight sits with his back against your door, helmet tilted up at the ceiling, and you wonder if he slept, and why he was not in bed with you. You had invited him several times, and wished he would fulfill the request.

As soon as you sit up in bed, his head lifts, and he stands at attention.

You yawn before speaking, “Were you resting?” You ask, stretching your arms over your head. He shakes his head in response. “What were you doing?” You ask, your arms coming down to rest on your mattress.

“Listening?”

“For?”

He shrugs, “The birds at first, but then it was footsteps. I didn’t want to get caught waiting for you to wake up.” He sighs.

“Well… I wish you would have listened in bed with me.” You glance over at the empty spot next to you. He doesn’t respond, and you are reminded that in many ways, he is still the silent knight you first met from three weeks ago. Din walks over to you, and you smile as he does.

“Did I wake you last night?” He asks, and you were honestly confused about what he was asking. He sensed the confusion, he was always so good at reading you, “When I carried you from the library here?”

“What?” And then you remembered, your eyes blowing wide. “Shit!” You jump out of bed. “What time is it?”

“Uh…”

“Is the rest of the staff awake?” You let your hair down, and slide on the pink satin slippers on the floor of your bed.

“What?”

“Did you bring the map I was studying?” You look up at his emotionless helmet.

“…No?” To be truthful, he didn’t even take the time to glance at the map you studied, he was far too distracted by you.

“Fuck.” You muttered. Din liked it when you swore.

You thought of nothing, and hurried to the door of your suite, swinging it open and marching down the corridor. Din follows you in confusion, trying to catch up to you and bring you back to your room. You’re weary, and just woke up, so you pay no attention to Soniee who passes you in the hallway with your tea, looking at you in confusion, or the maids who were trying to sweep the floor that you scurried over. Din tried to halt you, but was never one to speak unless spoken to, especially not in public and in the presence of others, and felt unable to stop you and ask what was going on. Everyone turned heads to see the future consort in a panic, and were left with questions. Most of them shrugged and ignored it, a few began the rumors.

You practically ran down the stairs, feeling a little out of breath when you finally made it to the doors of the library. The fact that they were closed was still a good sign, and you swing the heavy door open, entering the library with haste. Your heart drops when you see the last person you wanted to this morning: Prince Korkie.

He turns to see the commotion, his eyes are shocked to not only see you out and about this early in the day, but also in your nightgown. He sputters on a ‘Good Morning’, and you don’t even hear it because you’re too panicked to see that he has the map you were reading last night in his hands. You swear in your mind, and your heart falls out of your feet. Din comes hurrying behind you.

“Princess? What is the meaning of this?” He asks, an eyebrow raised, trying to sound chipper as he greeted his fiance. You swallow thickly. Din bows for the prince, and then bends down to whisper in your ear so Korkie can’t hear it.

“Highness, please come back to your room.”

“What? Why?” You say a little too loudly, and before he can reply, the door is opening again with General Vizsla and a group of knights entering.

“Y-your gown.” Din whispers, and you look down to see that it is very sheer, far too sheer to be in the presence of your fiance… and half of the Mandalorian government. You want to shrink from the embarrassment, and notice that Korkie’s eyes are fixed on your chest. What a creep. You fold your arms over your breasts.

“What map do you have there, Prince Korkie?” You ask, trying not to make it seem too obvious that you were clearly in distress, but shaken up by your exposure and the perverted ness of the prince before you. Din wondered what in the world could be so important about that specific map. He stands behind you to cover your back side.

“What is this commotion?” Vizsla asks, interrupting your conversation.

“Nothing, General.” Korkie clears his throat. He turns to you, “Vizsla and I were just about to discuss the plans we have for… the southern border of Corellia.” Korkie awkwardly smiles. You raise an eyebrow.

“Plans?” You ask.

“Yes, you will hear in time.” Vizsla’s obnoxiously nasally voice busts in again. He was always one to unwelcomely invite himself.

You try not to roll your eyes, “And the map, Your Highness?” You repeat yourself, trying not to sound too demanding. You were still a princess, after all.

Korkie nervously chuckles, eyeing the multiple men in the room and shocked by your ambition. He takes a step forward, rolling the map up in his hands as he advances in you and Din’s direction. Din placed a discreet hand on the small of your back, hoping to reassure you. His touch was barely noticeable, but it was enough.

“Princess,” He says, sort of hushed. “You can call me Korkie in front of other people.” It was clear that he had an expectation to fill, and it would be bad on him if his fiance was still addressing him with a title a week before the wedding.

You scoff, “No, I don’t think I will.”

You hold your hand out for the map in defiance, but the prince doesn't hand it to you. He has a dark look in his eyes, one you have never seen before. Din tries to pull back on your bicep, trying to alleviate the situation, but you stay steadfast. “I will take that map now, Your highness.” You bite through the title, wanting it to cut. Korkie lifts his chin with an authoritative look, putting the rolled up map behind his back.

“Get this woman out of my meeting!” He calls out, and turns away. Your face drops, thinking you had the upper-hand, but realize that is taken away from you as two muscular guards pick you up, pulling you away from Din, and walking you out of the library. Korkie always does this, he’s madly in love with you until he’s not. It makes you remember that all of this is probably a ruse for power. Your heart and spirit drop, and you feel nothing but pure disrespect and rage. Din quickly follows. You try to writhe out of the guard’s grasp, not wanting to give up without a fight, but failing miserably. They were both very strong, probably because they had to compensate for how scrawny the Prince is.

“I can take it from here, gentlemen.” Din says, loudly, louder than you usually hear him speak. “I said I can take her!” Din yells when they don’t respond. Then, you hear the indefinite sound of a punch. These guards were still fully armored, but there was no withstanding the strength and brute force of your Knight when you were endangered. The guard Din had punched lets you go as a reaction, and you use it as an opportunity to take your now free hand and twist the wrist of the other guard off of you. All of the self-defense Din had previously taught you paid off in that moment as he yelled out in pain, not expecting your strength or skill. You were taught by the best, after all.

Now that you were free from the clutches of Korkie’s personal guards, you felt Din grab your hand and pull you. The two of you ran through the corridors, down another flight of stairs, and passed the throne room, making sure not to look back in the direction of the library. You ran parallel to the ballroom, and then finally down a final flight of stairs to the foyer of the castle. Din tugs you into a narrow hall, and down a spiral staircase. It was the way to the staff quarters, you remember from the day you went to the ocean. You were shocked and confused about what happened, and truthfully kind of exhausted. You were relieved when Din finally slowed down, and pulled you into Koska’s sister’s room. It was empty, thank the Stars.

“Close your eyes.”

“What?”

“Close them!” Din says and it startles you, but you do it. He pulls his helmet off with haste, tossing it to the floor with a clang. Din places both of his strong hands on either side of your face, pulling you towards him and then kisses you with so much force and hunger that you stumble back in surprise, your eyes cracking open for just a split second. You didn’t see much, because his face was so squished into yours. All you caught a glimpse of was his eyelashes for a millisecond, but that was enough. Din is pushing you against the wall, pinning you to it, and kissing you so hard that you have to pull away to get some air. “I don’t think I have ever been as attracted to you as I was when you stood up to that prick.” He chuckles, and you hum back. Din takes a deep breath before speaking up again, “What was on that map?” He asks, out of breath, too.

You sigh, sort of embarrassed, eyes still shut tightly, “It was the tunnel plans of the castle.”

“What, you mean the blueprints?”

“Yes.” Your eyes stay closed.

“The blueprints that are at least three-hundred years old?”

“Mhm.”

“How did you get your royal hands on those?” Din asks, baffled.

“It doesn’t matter! What does matter is that I made notes on the back of the map!” You blurt, feeling shame, “I wrote the estimated times it would take and which halls to take from my room!” You groan, so badly wanting to open your eyes. You remembered what you said to yourself all those weeks ago, however, reminding yourself that it should be his choice to show you his face and no one else’s. You sigh, “The Prince isn’t stupid! I’m sure he thinks I’m plotting something now!” You hope you don’t sound too panicked, but if you were being honest, you were. Din sighs, clearly frustrated, although you weren’t sure if he was sexually or emotionally… or a little bit of both. “I’m sorry.” You sigh, your hands coming up and searching for his shoulders. “I should not have been so careless.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.” You weren’t expecting him to agree with you, he usually doesn’t. He takes a calming breath, “…Are you plotting something?” He asks, his eyes moving between your closed eyelids in search of a non-verbal answer that he’ll never receive.

You don’t want to answer, but know you don’t have a choice. “Yes.” You feel guilty after saying it, although you aren’t sure why. Din exhales deeply this time. “But listen! We could run! I don’t have to stay here! We can fix this! We can get into Coruscant and they’ll never come looking for us, and then we can go to Nevarro, go to your home! We’ll take your son-“

“Rue.”

“What?”

“My son, his name is Rue.”

Rue. It was simple, to the point, just like Din’s. You liked it. “We’ll take Rue! Please, Din, we need to! It will be the only way we will ever be happy!” Your thumbs rub into the thick skin of his neck. You didn’t mean to vomit so much information on him at once, but he didn’t really give you an option.

He exhales deeply, and you know he’s processing everything you just told him. “We can’t”

“Why not?”

“Because!” He yells and it scares you. You drop your hands, your heart rate rising. A lump grows in your throat and you silently curse your emotions for betraying you. You swallow back a tear. He walks away from you and you hear the helmet pick up from off the floor. He puts it back on his head, and you know from practice and instinct when to open your eyes. When you do, he’s sitting on the chest at the end of the bed, his head dropped and hands pressed to the edge of the wood by his sides. You frown, and walk over to him. Din pushes his head into your abdomen, and you hold him there, just existing in not-so-comfortable silence. It’s tense, and not the type of tension that you usually like to experience with I’m.

He’s surprisingly the one to speak up, however. “We can’t… because Bo will hunt me and kill me and Rue and you… she’ll kill everything I love.” His voice cracks at the same time your heart does. Did he actually…

“Not to mention the war between our kingdoms it will start. Corellia can’t support itself in a war. We both know that.” Din sighs, maybe he was telling himself this just as much as he was telling you.

You sigh. He was right and you knew it, but it didn’t keep you from wanting to run away with him any less. “Din…” He looks up at you. “We have to get that map from Korkie.” You say, more stern but still comforting this time. His head tilts in question. You sigh, feeling guilty. “I wrote something else on it.” You look away from him, your eyes trailing. His hand reaches up to grab your chin, pulling your head to look right at him. Your eyebrows furrow. “Directions to your home.” The atmosphere in the room changes. You can feel it. “I know I shouldn’t have, I know it puts Rue in danger, but it gives us all the more reason to get that map back from Korkie as soon as possible.” His hand drops from your chin. You felt terrible.

“Okay, okay. We can check the library again and… if it’s not there we’ll go confront him. We’ll get it tonight.” He nods.

“Are you sure? What if he reads it?” You were surprised how lax he was, but something told you that he was controlling himself from his true emotions.

“As far as I’m concerned, the Prince has no reason to cause me or my family any harm.” He nods.

“Not yet.”

—

You swallow, your face inches away from the door of the Prince’s bedroom. Din was around the corner of the corridor, both of you knew this was something you would have to do on your own, without his support. You had never been here before, and after ample search in the library for the map all afternoon, there was no other option. It was late, but not inappropriately late. You wore that same dress you wore weeks ago, the soft blue one that was off the shoulder one that adorned your figure elegantly. It was one of the most sophisticated gowns in your closet. More mature than most of the flowy princess ballgowns. It was a diplomatic but still ethereal fashion choice, which you desperately needed after a humiliating encounter this morning. The scar on your shoulder from the endeavor in Keldabe had mostly healed, and only had a pale pink to it. You looked back at Din, who was peering around the corner, for some reassurance. He nodded, and you took a deep breath. Two knocks would be enough. The door swings open, and you are suddenly very aware that you would have to brave this encounter without the support of your trusted Knight. Korkie is who answers the door, and he looks mildly unamused to see you.

“Princess?” He tilts his head.

“Evening, I hope it is not too late?” You suggest, keeping your voice as monotone and unwelcoming as possible. You wanted him to know that you were here for a serious matter.. You noticed he was covering the door with his body, perhaps he was hiding something from you too.

“For my fiance? Never.” You hated being called that, but if it was what it took for him to invite you into the room,you could deal with it. Korkie’s room was large, it was far more spacious than yours. It had a billowing fireplace and sitting area, the ceilings twice the height of your suite’s, and a private library pushed into the northeast corner. You familiarize yourself with your surroundings, and the heir closes the door behind you. You silently scanned the room for the map, you would have to snatch it up without it being suspicious, and you could not explicitly ask for it again. “What do I owe this honor?” He says from behind, charming as usual, although his words did seem a bit slurred. You see that an opened book sat on the seat of a chair in the sitting area. He must have been reading before you interrupted him. You turn around, and lift your chin, trying to look and sound as put together and unsuspecting as possible.

You clear your throat, “I wanted to apologize for this morning.” You nod. It wasn’t true, but you had rehearsed with Din several times the best way to stall time as you looked for the map, and this was the best way of going about. “It was inappropriate behavior, especially in front of the General.” You disagreed with your own words, and felt bad lying, but it came so naturally when done to the Prince.

Korkie sighs, and crosses over the room, looking up at a portrait above the fireplace. Your eyes still searched for your map, but had no clue where it might be. This was your first time here, after all. “Worry not, Highness.” Korkie downs a bit of brandy that was sitting for him. You didn’t like him when he was drunk.

“You’re sure?” You figured that would have made conversation more natural, but he clearly was not in the mood for propriety. He pours another drink, and even pours one for you, offering it. You shake your head and mutter a ‘no thank you’, not really wanting to get drunk tonight. Din wouldn’t touch you if you were drunk. You admired that he respected you that much, but it also deprived you of the one thing worth all the pomp and circumstance. Korkie shrugs and drinks both, and you’re frankly appalled by this conduct.

“Indeed.” He hiccups. “Everyone loves a little show.” He chuckles, and you frown. Was that all your humiliation was to him? A show? “Now, Princess,” He takes a step towards you, and you feel so unprotected. Din would have stepped in by now, you knew that. You didn’t have the same sense of security you usually had when he wasn’t at your side. “Why did you really come here?” He asks, running his hand through his hair.

“Excuse me?” You nervously laugh. How did he figure any of this out? You take steps back that mirror his, trying to keep the same amount of distance between him and you but struggling to when you hit the post of his bed, your back flush against it. Your hands wrap around the wood working, and you look up at him nervously. You felt the same as you didn’t when you were cornered and harassed in the slum of Keldabe. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You clear your throat, trying to solve something, anything. Where could that cursed map be?

“Don’t-“ He says through gritted teeth, he catches himself from lashing out, and collects his composure before speaking again. “Don’t assume I am blind.”

“I would never-“

“Liar!” He spits out and you flinch back. He laughs a few times, it’s that evil, frustrated laugh. It was the type of laugh that people do when they’re trying to calm themselves down, but in turn they simply seem more angry. You were genuinely scared, unsure of what to do in this situation. “What were the directions you wrote on the back of the map?” He asks, and you furrow your brows.

“I don’t know what you mean?” This was partially true. How did he not understand the very neat and clear directions on the back of the blueprints to the secret passages? And in all curiosity, why did he care?

Korkie grunts again. “You are foolish.” He was dangerously close to you, and you wanted to get out of that room as soon as possible. You wanted Din to come protect you, you needed him to. “Are you forgetting who you belong to?” His hand sets on your hip, and you flinch again.

“I belong to no one.” You defy.

“You belong to me.” He grits his jaw again. You closed your eyes out of instinct due to the sheer anger and tension in his tone. His breath smelled of alcohol, and you wished you had the authority to slap him. He laughs his chuckle of malice again, and then before you can blink, he leans in for a kiss. How could he? How could he take advantage of your vulnerable state like this? Your blood boiled, and just in time, you dodge his lips. You swoop under his arm, away from the bedpost and back to the security of a full room you can avoid him in. He looks at you, clearly appalled. You were dizzy, probably from adrenaline. You wished this was surprising, but it was the exact thing you expected The Prince to do. This is when you noticed the map was rolled up and on the floor beside the fireplace. The new perspective of the room is what made you see it. Had he intended to burn it?

“You know,” You say as you take a step towards the map, “You should have another drink.” You offer. “You’re clearly tense,” You stepped between each phrase, “And it would be better for everyone.” Somewhere deep down you wanted to believe that Korkie was only acting this way because he was drunk. But you knew it wasn’t true. You realized that everything inside of you was looking for a redeemable quality in him, a reason to stay perhaps. You wanted to believe he was worth staying for, but you knew that he wasn’t, not when everything you’ve ever wanted was just outside the door.

Before Korkie can take another step towards you, you’re bolting towards the map, snatching it up in your hands and then running towards the door. The adrenaline shoots through your veins, and it only grows when you hear him growl again and his heavy footsteps run after you. You have to physically hold yourself back from squealing in stress, your hand slapping over your mouth. You rip the door open, and try slamming it behind you, but Korkie’s arm is caught in the door, and you smash it. He cries out, and the commotion makes Din run down the hall towards you to check what was going on. Korkie was able to get a hand on the collar of your dress, and he tries to pull you back in, but your strength is enough to get away. You ran to Din, who looked concerned, you could tell by his stance alone. He was tense and his hands balled in fists at his side.

Korkie pulls open the door, holding his arm to his chest, and you look back, your heart racing. You are so relieved when you make it to Din, and you grab his hand, threading your fingers into his and pulling him down the hall in the same fashion he did early that day. Several guards who heard the heir’s yell were running in all directions, but none of them paid any attention to you, thank the stars.

You think you are crying, but you aren’t sure. You felt raw fear being alone with the Prince. You never wanted to be alone with him again, never.

You keep running nonsense in the castle, not really sure where you’re going but wanting to be anywhere other than there. Din is the one to stop you after the mindless escape, pulling you into a branching hallway and against an unsightly window. He grabs both of your arms, and pulls you flush against his chest. He holds you there for a long time, and you both get a chance to catch your breath. You cry into the beskar chestplate, and feel rather foolish for reacting as such. Din was silent, and just held you, his strong arms wrapped around you as tightly as they could be.

“What did he do to you?” He asks, and you sigh out pathetically. Din repeats his question, still calm and gentle, but more urgent.

“I-I was so scared.” You stutter. Din somehow squeezes you tighter after you say this. After you collect yourself a little more, you can speak again, “he was drink-“

“Did he… touch you?”

You weren’t sure why you felt like you were in trouble, but aggressively reminded yourself that Din would never be upset with you, at least not for something like this. “Yes… But not very much, he just touched my hip and leaned in to kiss me.”

“Did he?”

“No!” You say almost defensively, “I got away just in time.” You pull away and look up at him with teary eyes. His hand comes up, and he pulls the glove off. His bar hand caresses your flushed face, swiping a tear off your cheek with his thumb. “I’m sorry-“

“Why?”

“I don’t know!” You breathe out shakily. “For crying I guess? For letting the map get away? For letting him touch me-“ You try to look away but his fingers catch your chin again, pulling your gaze back onto his helmet.

“Stop that. It’s not your fault. He is disgusting for doing that.” Din nods, and you swallow a sob. “Do you understand?” He asks, and you slowly nod once. “And promise me, that you’ll never ever blame yourself for anything like that ever again, okay?” You nod again. “Promise me!” He wasn’t angry or forceful, just steadfast with his words. He meant what he was saying.

“I promise.” You mutter. After you reply you hear his exhale in his armor. He pulls you against his chest again, and you can feel it move with each breath. You wished you could hear his heartbeat again like you could when you wake up next to him. You’re able to finally relax, and his embrace was the most calming thing you had ever experienced.

“I was worried sick about you.” He says, far more soft spoken than his remarks before. You didn’t verbally reply, but he was able to read how you felt. “I don’t like you being alone with him.”

“Me neither.” You sigh, squeezing your eyes shut and letting the final few tears fall out of your lashes. “All the more reason to leave.” He tenses after you say it, and his arms loosen a bit around your shoulders.

“You really want to?” He asks, you nod against his chest. “You know the possible consequences? This could mean the destruction of Corellia.”

“I know. That’s why it’s so hard. I don’t know what to do. I know what I want, and that is to leave here with you, but I don’t want my own selfishness to risk the lives of thousands who I vowed to protect.” You pull your head away from his chest.

“You… really want to live a life with me?” He asks, almost oblivious to your prior remark. You nod nod, or even say yes, but you just look up at him in all seriousness, hoping it would be enough.

It was.

“You don’t even know what I look like.” His arms drop. Did he think you a fool for that?

“We…” You debate your words, “We can change that.” You close your eyes, hoping that it would mean something to him, and maybe it did, but just as always, he didn’t show it. He just takes his cursed, gloveless hand and tilts your chin up to see him.

“In time we will, but only when it is right.” He nods.

It wasn’t the answer you wanted, but it was enough. It was more than anything he had ever given you before.

“Come on,” Din says gently, “There’s something I want to show you.” He beckons with his head down the hall, and you follow, interlocking your fingers with his again, the map in your other hand. You weren’t really sure how he was able to be so calm and reassuring, especially without showing an ounce of emotion through all of it, but it was a Godsend. You weren’t sure if Din loved you, at least not in the same way you loved him, but you were sure that he cared about you, and he wanted you to be safe and happy. And that was all you needed, for now.

“Had he read the map?” Din asks as you walk down a flight of stairs, descending the various levels of the palace and undoubtedly heading for the staff quarters again.

“I believe so.” You sigh, “Although he seemed confused about it. I think he was a little too drunk to fully comprehend, or he was giving me the benefit of the doubt.” You shrug.

“Well, at least we have it now, right?” Din asks, his head slightly turning back to look at you as he says it, and you give a nervous but relieved smile in response. The two of you loop through halls, and you’re very aware of how much the castle is winding down. Staff have retired for the night, doors were closed, even the usual laughter coming from parlors or the ballroom was silenced. Was it really that late? You didn’t really have much of a perception of time anymore after everything that had just happened.

The one part of the castle that was full of life, however, was the staff quarters. As you got closer, you could hear the usual laughter, and warm, welcoming light poured from the low corridor. Music played, it was loud, and your eyes searched for the spectacle that was just awaiting you.

“You said you wanted to get to know the staff better…”

“I did?” You ask.

“A few nights ago, you were really tired, you might not remember.” He shrugged. You didn’t really care whether or not you really said those things, what stuck out to you, however was that Din remembered that. He was observant enough to remember specific phrases you said, and not any phrases, the ones that were sleepy and probably full of nonsense. You would lie if you said you didn’t gush over that a little.

Din takes you into the staff common room, and it’s all clear. The warm smells, the enticing light, the infectious laughter, it all came from the whole castle staff crammed into this one room. There was food, and everyone laughed and danced to the music that a handful of staff members played. Their instruments were humble, probably retired from the royal orchestra years ago, but you could tell there were fond memories and stories linked with every single one. It was hot, and there were a lot of people crammed into the room. The doors were wide open, and the tables were pushed back against the walls so that the floor could be opened to a large and intricate group dance. It was nothing like the pompous dances that the nobility did at the ball, however. This dance was filled with joy, and mistakes were not only welcomed, but celebrated. Expression was the center of the party, and all types of people were involved. Children who were up far past their bedtime joined in the festivities, dancing and laughing and chasing one another, elderly staff sat at the tables, clapping along to the folk music, and the servants who usually give you sour tea and hot bread had their shoes off, jumping on the stone floor of the common area. Some of the knights and guards had their helmets on like Din usually did, and others did not. You realized it really probably boiled down to personal preference, or duty.

You smiled at the spectacle, and it gave you a deep and undeniable sense of community and love. You quickly learned that the livelihood of the castle did not rest in the parties and rules that an uptight Queen set in place, but the very people who made the castle work smoothly.

The laughter and joy was contagious, and you couldn’t stop yourself from joining the fun. You jump into the dance, not sure of the steps, but picking up your ridiculous skirt and starting anyways. You hoped it wasn’t obvious that you had been crying a half hour before, but no one paid any attention if it was. The women in the circle linked their arms with yours, and you spun in a circle. The one to your right couldn’t have been older than fifteen, and she yelled over the noise how to do the footsteps. You couldn’t really hear her, but looked down at her feet and tried to mimic it. You had the cheesiest smile on your face, and the room spun as you danced. Din crosses over to a wall, leaning against it and crossing his arms, watching you.

After that dance finished, another song started, and the moves were rather different. However, a girl pulled you out of the circle, and tugged on your dress. “It’s too big!” She shouts over the music, “You’ll never make it through the next song!” You nod and then walk over to a table. You stand on top of the table after a few jumbled ‘excuse me’s’. You were sure everyone recognized you, but they didn’t treat you differently for one moment. It was… refreshing. You kicked your shoes off, and several people turned to look at you, some cheered, others laughed. You then bite your bottom lip and pull the strings of the corset you wore, loosening it enough to slip out of your crinoline and ruffled-slip, leaving you in nothing but your undergarment petticoat and the top layer of the gown you were wearing. There was laughter, and you didn’t hear or see Din chuckle. You swayed your hips, and after a playful “huzzah!” from the crowd, a few knights helped you off the table. You immediately return to the dance circle, and you’re able to move much easier. You’re thrown back into the stimulating dance. The woman was right, this was much more physical, jumping and kicking was done and it was far more exciting than any of the proper waltzes you had spent your life dedicating time to.

You step out after two more songs, trying to catch your breath and wiping the sweat off your brow. There was alcohol, just hooch, but a bearded man gave you a big mug and you happily chugged it down. Din was impressed with your ability to consume so much so quickly. The men all cheered and hollered as you downed the drink, also impressed with the skill. You didn’t know you could do it, either.

A game of cards is being played, and you’re roped into that, too. You bet some money (money you didn’t have) and helped a tired, old man who usually worked in the stables play, after a few tough rounds, and struggling to learn the rules as you played, you won the pot for the old man. Three other much younger boys who usually worked at the front gate looked in shock as you pulled the money towards you and the man. He laughed and thanked you for your help.

Some little girls examined your crinoline and corset, a few older women all pinched your cheeks, and a fat man gave you a huge helping of mashed potatoes and greens. You got to overeat shamelessly, and it felt so rewarding after weeks of eating like a bird in fear of being judged by your in-laws. It was the most wonderful feeling in the world to be treated normally. You caught a glimpse of Soniee, who braided a boy’s hair. You even noticed that Koska was there, the center of one of the dance circles, swaying her skirt to the beat with another girl, the two dancing together in a vibrant duet of culture and community. Your feet only began to hurt when you were pulled to dance again, and your cheeks ached from smiling so wide. It was the most alive and accepted you had ever felt in Mandalore.

At one point, you found yourself just a few feet away from Din in the dance. You hold your hands out for him, beckoning him to join. “Dance with me!” You shout out. Before you get an answer, however, you're pulled back into the center of the group. It isn’t for a few more cycles and bars of the song that you’re back out by him. “Please?” You try to be as enticing as possible. He shakes his head, his hand coming up to decline. You raise an eyebrow.

“I don’t dance!” He yells back. You roll your eyes and step out of the group momentarily. You grab both of his hands, your face with the cheesiest smile ever, and pull him onto the floor. He tries to fight back, but ultimately loses.

“Yes you do!” You reply, yelling as loud as possible so he might be able to hear you. “You proved it to me last week!” You say and in perfect time, your arms go up together with the beat of the song. He hadn’t done this dance before, but has watched it enough times to know what’s going on, although he looked rather awkward and foolish doing so. You grab his hand, your hips turning left to right in time, and you look down at your bodies, trying to show him as best as you can.

“I have no idea what’s going on!” Din yells at one point, the two of you now in the heart of the party.

“Me neither!” You laugh, “That’s what’s so wonderful about it!” Then came the part of the dance to clap your hands, the two of you clapping up by your face, and mirroring one another. “Now you’re getting the hang of it!” You nod. He rolls his eyes, and is thankful you can’t see it. It would be horrible for his reputation if anyone knew that he was having even a little fun, especially because it was with you. Din doesn’t usually come to these parties. They happen most Saturday nights, but he runs home to his son. Tonight, however, it was important to him that you got to experience it, especially after everything that happened earlier today.

You both start getting the hang of it, and Din mentally thanks his helmet for hiding the smile on his face. Your feet grapevine, and then you both jump. Everyone hoots and hollers, it’s part of the dance. Suddenly, the both of you are in the middle of the dance circle in the same way that Koska was with her partner a few songs ago, and you’re leading the spiral. You can’t wipe the darkish smile off your face and genuinely can’t believe you got him out here.

“Atta boy, Djarin!” Koska yells from a table, standing up and toasting a Ming of hooch. The music picked up in preparation for the big finish. Din and you spun around one another, your bodies coming flush until your palms press flat, your faces only inches apart. You always thought playing off of one another in a dance was important for the emotion during a waltz, but a fancy three-step had nothing on the emotion and passion put into a dance such as this. Somehow, you could still play off of him, and the performance was one of shared respect and assurance. Despite never having seen his face, you got the Knight, you understood him in a way no one ever did. The song ends, the two of you real close to one another, and out of breath. The entire room roared in joy as they cheered for the both of you, and you looked up at the visor of his helmet.

“I want to kiss you!” He yells, and although his request is very clear, no one can hear it over the volume of the room.

“Then kiss me!” You reply. You didn’t give a damn if every servant of the Mandalorian royal family saw it. He laughs, you feel it, and then he’s pulling his helmet up.

He just reveals his lips, but you look upon them with no shame, admiring the way his Cupid’s bow dipped, and the scruff on his jawline. You smiled wide, and he smiled back. You feel honored to share this moment with him. Everyone around you was so loud, and they were cheering for both you and Din. You couldn’t believe how many of them knew his name as they called it out in encouragement.

Din’s free hand wraps around your waist, and pulls it in tight to him forcefully, you blush at the gesture, and the crowd “ooh’s” flirtily at it. Din Djarin then kisses you. He pulls your body into his soft lips and you sigh into it and it;s too quiet for him to hear but as soon as your lips meet, the crowd of staff disappears. Their cheers blur together, and fade out. Your lips move together passionately, and you do so with no shame. He groans against you, and you can feel it more than you can hear it, and it’s all you ever wanted.

For weeks now you just wanted to share your love with him publicly, and now that you have, you’re aware of how personal your love with him really is.

The crowd fades back in, everyone laughing in support and amusement. Your lips softly party and you grin from ear to ear. Din does too, shameless for once. His teeth are nice and straight. Oh God, you loved his smile.

Oh Stars, you loved him.

“Din!” You yell out. “I love you!” It was time to say it, because it was true. You meant it and as you say it, giggle.

“What?”

“I love you!” It’s so loud that you’re even sure if he can’t hear it, you can barely hear it yourself. But, in classic Din Djarin fashion, he doesn’t answer. He was never good with words, and was much better at showing you what was on his mind. He kisses you again, just as passionately, but this time it’s a series of short, quick pecks on your lips that get progressively more sloppy. He smiles into each kiss and you feel those magic butterflies again.

The rest of the night is a dreamy blur, Din dances the whole time with you, the music eventually slows, you notice that there are less and less kids in the common room. It winds down, and your feet ache in the best way. An ache that would be associated with happy memories. It was long past midnight when you decided to stop dancing, and a lone fiddler is all who was left in the band, playing a ballad to end the night. There was still soft laughter, and a few stragglers who slowly danced to the music. Din was one of the few who were still playing cards, one of his fellow knights challenging him to a game. Din was always up for a challenge, and both he and the man he played against looked deep in thought. You realized you were finally able to read him through all that beskar, and he was far more reactive than you ever would have known if you weren’t looking for it. Your cheek sits in your palm, and your eyes are heavy, but you watch him fondly from across the room. Koska sits next to you, handing you a cup of water.

“You had fun.” She hums, taking a sip out of her own cup.

You nervously laugh in response, she wasn’t wrong. “I didn’t realize how connected you all were.” You say with a sigh before taking a sip of the water and being so relieved to finally get some hydration after all of the energy you exerted.

“Yeah…” Koska was in her typical undisturbed mood, relaxed and observant. “These are the people of Mandalore.” She sighs, “They are what we really represent. We aren’t all about war and decoration, there’s so much more to us that the world doesn’t see.” You were touched by that remark, because you had seen it too. “The truth that’s hard for all of us to believe is that the rest of the world only respects us to stay on our good side.” Her voice drops a little. She looks at you, her eyes heavy as always. You aren’t sure how to respond, because it was true. Koska takes another sip before changing the subject, “I’ve never seen him dance before.” She nods towards Din. “At least not like that.” She laughs into her cup.

You smile, “I didn’t think he had it in him.” You tease.

“He wouldn’t have if you weren’t there.” Koska shrugs. “He’s like a whole different person around you. It’s refreshing.”

“He told me about everything that happened.” You reply. “With him and Bo.”

“He did? I don’t think he’s really talked to anyone about it.”

“He just told me last week, after the ball.” You nod. “I had no idea… but it all makes sense in the end.” You finish off the last of your water as his card game finishes, the few people watching cheering as Din lays down his cards and wins. The other knight, whose face was also covered by a heavy, beskar helmet slammed his fist down on the table in defeat. Din took the money that was on the bet.

“He’s better because of you.” Koska says, smiling as he wins. “I’ve had to look out for him in a way for a long time, he’s one of my oldest friends.” She speaks of him fondly. “But I feel like he doesn’t need me as much anymore, now that you can keep an eye out for him.” Koska turns to look a t you, but you don’t notice it. “You love him?”

“I do.” You nod. “Well… I think I do.” You sigh, “I don’t really know what love is I suppose, but I believe how I feel about him is the closest thing to it.” You shrug. “And I’m totally fucked because of it.”

“I wouldn’t know.” Koska explains, “I’ve never been in love either.”

“Really?” You ask, mildly shocked in all honesty. Koska nods. “There’s no one special in your life?”

“Well, there’s one girl.” Koska begins, “But my feelings towards her are more of an… obligation, I suppose.”

“I used to worry that’s how Din felt about me.” You admit.

“Oh trust me,” She chuckles once, “It isn’t like that for him at all.” She hums and you sigh in response, you sit in comfortable silence for a moment after that before Koska speaks up again, “What are you gonna do?” She asks.

“I don’t know.” You admit, turning to look at her, “But now that the majority of the castle staff has seen us kiss, I need to think of something.”

“That was pretty stupid, by the way.” Koska rolls her eyes.

You chuckle, “I suppose it was…” Din starts walking back to you, “But I can’t seem to care. I’m sick of hiding from everyone.” Din makes it to the two of you, and you smile as you look up at him.

“It’s not much,” He holds out the money before pocketing it, “But Rue will be happy.” He laughs and holds a hand out for you to take. “How drunk is she?” He asks Koska.

“She’s fine-“

“I only had one drink!” You roll your eyes, knowing that your night with Din will end very quickly if you were drunk. You take his hand and he hoists you up with him.

“Hm… that’s what you said the other night.”

“She’s okay, maybe a little tipsy but nothing keeping her from holding a perfectly normal conversation.” Koska says to Din, knowing full well why he even asked, a smirk plasters on her face.

“Come on.” Din hums, and pulls you down one of the various halls that branch from the common room, but not the one that both of you were familiar with because of your aid from Koska.

Din leads you through the candle-lit halls, and into a small bedroom. It was cramped, and there was barely enough room for the both of you, but it was cozy. He lit an oil lamp, and it illuminated the room just enough. Din slowly pulls off his helmet, and it’s so dim that you can’t really see anything like normal, but you can make out faint features and the light in his eyes. It was enough. He started to take off his armor too, and you patiently waited with your back against the outerwall that the window was in. He sets the chestplate and pauldrons in a neat pile on the foot of the bed, and kicks his boots off. His arm comes up to rub his neck, and he stretches a few times. He pulls the chainmail up over his head, leaving him in the same peasant blouse and trousers that he wore at the beach all those days ago. You would never get used to how trim his waist was, and how broad his shoulders were. He turns around, and has a smile on his face. You wished you could see him in the light. Din runs his hands through his thick curls and then steps towards you. You close the gap and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in for an innocent kiss.

“Thank you.” You mutter.

“What for?”

“For bringing me here tonight… for being with me.” You sigh, and look up at him lovingly. He sighs, and kisses you again. Din starts to deepen the kiss, and you moan into his lips. He was a good kisser, that was for sure.

[SMUT BEGINS HERE]

Din wastes no time, he picks you up by the thighs, lifting you on his waist so you’re kissing down into him, and before you know it, he’s kissing your jaw. Din had learned your body, he knew the sweet spot on your jaw, and always knew just how long he could suck on it before it became a hickey. He never crossed that line, he knew when to stop, but how badly you wanted him to mark you up so Korkie could see, you wanted everyone to see who you loved and why. His strong hands bunch up your skirt, and lift it up so your ass could be uncovered. His arms hold you, and he stumbles back until he falls on the bed in the room. You straddle the knight and get comfortable on his lap. You can feel his hard-on growing, and you’ll never get over the confidence boost that gives you. You start to tentatively rub your hips so that you grinned down into him. You get a sting of pleasure through your spine, and you’re already getting wet. Because you were down in the lower level of the palace, and was totally isolated from most people with thick, stone walls, you take advantage of the opportunity to make noise. You moan into Din’s mouth, and he holds his lips apart for you. His breath against your face was enough alone to drive you crazy, and your fingers twist around the strands of curly, brown hair that sit at the nape of his neck.

Din’s thick, calloused fingers find their way between your legs from the back, and he starts to gently run his fingertips through your slick folds. You gasp at the feeling, he was so gentle with every move. He starts to moan as well as your hips grind further into him in search for more friction and pleasure, and the sound of his voice unobstructed by the beskar is your favorite sound in the whole world. Din settles into his seat, and he pulls you forward onto him. This allows your hips to lift up just enough that he can insert a finger through your cunt. He starts pumping his wrist immediately, fingering you. You pulled your lips away from him, and sat up straight. You throw your head back with a moan, and then bring your hands to the tucked in portion of your shirt. You pull it up over your head, and wriggle out of the slip that kept you clothed. You were finally naked, and you took your free hands and squeezed each nipple. Between the feeling of Din’s fingers deep inside of you, his growing-bulge rutting against your clit, and the added pinch of your nipples, you were already in a euphoric bliss that didn’t take long to reach.

“Din-“ you moan his name, which he loved. He’s eager, and isn’t afraid to show it. Din pulls his cock out from his trousers, and he lets you grind against the tip. You keep it from going in, trying to tease him in the same way that he did the morning after the ball. It was really just driving you over the edge, really, and so before you let his swollen tip prod at your slickness anymore, you steady yourself on his broad shoulders, and take a deep breath before sinking down onto him. Both of you moan out when you do, and he throws his head back, exposing a thick cord of muscle in his neck. You bend down to nip at his adam’s apple before suckling into his tan skin, making sure to leave a massive, purple bruise on the middle of his neck. You bottom out as you do this, and the sensation shoots up your body. You liked being on top for the sheer fact that it gave you a different angle. Din’s length was pressing up into you now, and he filled you up delightfully. Your favorite feeling in the world was being stuffed by him like this.

You could feel every inch of him as you lifted your hips up, you were so wet and it was already such a loud, obscene noise. You kept sucking hickeys into him, and your hands moved from his neck down to the hem of his blouse. You grab the sheer fabric, and pull it up over his head so that Din is finally as shirtless as you. His huge hands stay on your ass, squeezing the fat there and using his own strength to lift you up and down on his cock. It’s slow at first, but it allows the both of you to really savor the feeling of one another. You scratch your fingernails down his pecs, scratching at his abdomen, and then finally trailing in between your legs to circle at your clit as the pace picked up. You lean forward to rest your glistening forehead on his bare shoulder, and your bare chests press into one another.

Din begins to thrust his hips up, and before you know it, you’re bounding on his cock. It’s fast and hard and your weight is slamming you down on to him over and over again with no end in sight. It’s painful in a good way, the same type of ache that would have good memories and passion attached to it. You knew your core would be sore tomorrow, but it was worth it as Din’s huge cock runs against your g-spot over and over again inside of you. Your fingers speed up on your clit, and you bite down on Din’s shoulder muscle to keep from being too loud. He’s grunting and growling and is absolutely feral and the noises eliciting off of his kiss-swollen lips are needy yet dominate at the same time. You could get drunk on his breathy-sighs, his voice as dark and husky as always.

“That’s it,” He groans into your ear, you moan in response to his words. You loved when he was vocal because it was so rare that he actually was. “Are you gonna cum on my fucking cock, Princess?” He asks.

“Mhm.” You pathetically moan.

“Fuck-“ he groans, and then shifts his position. Suddenly, the two of you are standing up, and the way his length moves and twitches inside of you as he stands up pulls an involuntary moan from your lips. Din lifts you up with his arms, arching his torso back so that you can lean on him. He then gets right back at the task at hand: chasing your orgasm. It was close, you could feel it, and somehow Din seemed to have more energy and strength in this position. He lifted you up and down on his cock, and your arms found their place wrapped back around his neck, desperately trying to hold yourself up as he absolutely tears into you. He was so big, you keep forgetting how thick he is until his swollen and hard cock is filling you up like you were only made for this exact thing.

He must have gotten tired, you could tell not only by the sheen layer of sweat on his chest, but he pulled you off of himself, and threw you onto the bed. You giggle at the forceful contact, and like being tossed around in bed. It made you feel small, and it really showed his strength. Din pumps his leaking cock a few times, kneeling in front of you and pulling your legs apart. You bite your lip out of lust before he slaps the head of his length on your cunt a few times. The sound is so dirty, and it makes you even wetter.

“Stars, you’re so fucking wet for me.” He bites his lip, slapping his cock harder against you. “Can you hear that? Can you hear how fucking wet that pussy is?” He asks you. Stars, he was good at this.

“Yes… so wet for you.” You sigh, your hand coming down to play with your clit again. Din mutters a ‘that’s right’ before he slides himself through your folds a few times again before pushing into you one more, and he doesn’t hold back. His hands find their way to your hips, and he presses them down into the bed as hard as he can, pinning you in place. He starts to pound into you, and it knocks the wind out of you because of how abrupt and forceful it is. You can’t even really make noise to show how good it was, and instead a few strangled and helpless cries pull from your throat.

“Do you fantasize about my cock when you’re with your fiance? Hm? Does it turn you on knowing that you’re cheating on him?” He asks, and you can finally moan out. He was right, he knew you would say yes.

“Yes!” You say, “I can’t stop thinking about your cock!” You reply, your voice high-pitched and so needy.

“Do you think about me fucking this pussy like a bitch on my cock when you’re in important meetings?” He asks again. There was something about the disrespect that you loved, it only made things better.

“Yes sir!” You cry. Din chuckles and then smacks your ass cheek. His slamming into you so hard that you can’t believe he hasn’t gotten tired yet. You can see how his muscles flex against the moonlight and your core is aching from the knight but it’s all worth it. “I’m gonna cum!” You warm, arching your back in pleasure. Din then spits on your cut, adding to the hot wetness and dirty sounds, and he pulls your fingers away from your clit and replaces them with his.

“Cum with me,” He groans, and almost immediately, you’re cumming on his leaking cock at the same time that he does. He cums so much, and you’re always surprised by it. His load drips down your folds, and he fucks you through it. It’s filthy and you want to keep doing it for the rest of your life. Your arms come up to grasp his biceps, trying to steady yourself on anything. Din moans loud when he cums, and it isn’t until he starts softening inside of you that he quits thrusting. He doesn’t pull out, however, and he stays stuffed inside of you as he catches your breath. You’re fucked-out, your eyes heavy and breasts heaving with each deep breath that tries to calm your heart rate. “I love cumming in you.” He sighs. You already knew that, but you loved how he told you. He goes to pull out, but your thighs squeeze together, holding him in place.

“Stay inside.” You whine. Din tilts his head.

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” He bends down to kiss your forehead, and then very carefully and slowly turns the two of you so that he is spooning you, his cock still buried inside your dripping and swollen cunt. “You did good, you did so good.” He kisses your neck as he says these, breathing in deep your scent. “S’good… so good.” He catches his breath, and is just as exhausted as you are, if not more. His chest heaves against your back, and his arms pull you against him. You fight against sleep, but ultimately fail, submitting to rest almost immediately after Din pulls the blanket over the both of you. Just before you fall asleep, you hear him mumble something against your neck, although you aren’t sure what it is.

Taglist: @remmysbounty @snow30285 @what-iwish-you-knew @carbonated-beverage @frogllady @baileys-corner @leaiorganas @weirdowithnobeardo @ginger-swag-rapunzel @bewitchedbodyandsol @mograh @justavolcano @theokatz @lowkeytesss @hallway5 @news4bees @istealyof00d @songofcosplay Y @mcueveryday @310ra @thatonedindjarinfan @songofseraphine @callmekane @theelilbritt @bbwithaknife @firstofficerwiggles @jedi-jesi @ironbabey @minttchipp @bel-ppa @cp11 @venomous-ko @bbwithaknife @lunatic-sunsets @1800-fight-me @foundtheavacados @elphabaforpresidentofgallifrey @florenceivy @theanothersherlockian @spideysimpossiblegirl @mandosmistress @floraandfrost @paradoxpictures @stinky-child @goldielocks2004 @kenoobiwan @elinedjarin @uniquebiscuitmongerdonkey @artooies-scream @yuiopiklmn

“If you are included in the taglist, you are expect to interact with the post you are tagged in (ex. Reblogs, Notes and Comments). If I see that you are not interacting, you will be removed from the taglist permanently.”

—

part fifteen

208 notes · View notes