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canonkiller · 2 months

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Hi, I'm trying to do art commissions, but no one has commissioned me yet. Do you have any advice for attracting customers?

I wrote a lot of words for you in hopes that at least some of it will be helpful, so I'm putting the bulk of this answer below a read more to save people the scrolling. The quick and easy two tips that I find people forget to do the most are:

Is your art easy to find? Having a pinned post with a tag for your art, a link in your bio, or an art-focused / reblog-light blog (like this one!) make it so that people know you draw, and knowing you've been posting art for a while makes you less likely to be a scammer.

Is your commission info easy to find? People can't buy things that they don't know you're selling; clear and accessible links to your prices and terms are important.

Now for the real bulky meat of advice giving, where I say a lot of words that may or may not be relevant:

I have a lot of advice, but I do want to say before getting into it:

A lot of selling art (especially in a non-industry setting, like with social media commissions) is luck.

There is no one size fits all method for selling art, and it's best to go with what feels right to you (I'll go more into this later)

Tips for selling are not necessarily tips for creating, and there will be advice in here that I don't apply to myself. Determining what you do and do not implement is something you should decide for yourself and your work flow.

Your art not selling doesn't mean nobody cares about it.

Personally I think the idea of intentionally curating a single subject demographic of Customer and Consumer for your work is limiting and doomed to burnout in a non-industry space. I will also touch more on this later.

Now for the rest of it in varying orders:

✨ Attracting Customers

This one is going first because you mentioned it specifically. It is kind of vague though, by nature of the term, so what I advise doing is specifying.

When you are thinking of a customer, are you trying to appeal to:

People who will buy pre-made art products? (Pins, stickers, prints, etc)

People who will buy custom work? (Commissions for specific subject matter)

People who will buy art resources you've created? (Fonts, bases, texture packs, 3d models etc)

There's also frequency: a repeat customer of custom art will usually be appealed to more by a wide range of options (like illustrations), while you might get more single-purchase customers if you only offer a limited range of options (like only icons).

Demographics also, of course, play a substantial role in just custom art commissions; furries get lauded as high spenders, but they're also a huge community that is focused around OCs, so by statistics alone they will have more people with spending money and will be frequent customers of people drawing OCs. A narrower audience means fewer people, but often the spread of the people within that audience is the same - and at the end of the day, selling an art piece only requires one other person, it's just a matter of happening to find them.

The follow up question is of course the finding: the average artist in fandom spaces selling commissions does not have the platform or budget for an ad campaign. This, however, is also its own category:

✨ Posting Online

Right out the gate: anyone who has told you that just drawing x thing is the way to get easy money is wrong.

"If you draw more fan art, you'll -" wrong.

"Nobody cares about that, you should be drawing this instead -" wrong.

"if you need to sell fast, just sell porn -" wrong. And also re-evaluate your perceived lack of quality or value about the subject.

The things you will be able to create easily and consistently will be the things YOU, SPECIFICALLY, like to create. It is also entirely impossible that you are the only person on earth to have ever liked those things, which means that if you create them, there are people out there who will enjoy them.

It feels itchy to be like "and those people are Potential Customers", but it is true; your work will resonate with people. They will want you to create it. It is vitally important to your own well being that the things you create, that you want others to enjoy, are things you enjoy as well.

(This is also why the "just draw porn" joking advice that gets tossed around is particularly fucked up. You as the artist should not feel forced into drawing things you aren't comfortable with, and the vast majority of customers for explicit content also don't want the people making it to feel forced into doing so. It's basic consent. I have strong feelings about this.)

If you are creating things and putting them out into the world, they will find an audience. That audience may be one singular person! The number does not matter, because that's still a person who - again, sucks to frame ig this way - has the potential to buy things from you.

If you're constantly chasing a bigger follower count, more interactions, etc etc for the future, it can genuinely be pretty taxing on the people who want to support you in the present. When you enjoy someone's work, and want to support them, being told constantly that that support is not good enough is frustrating. Trying to follow your work should not lead to seeing more "likes are WORTHLESS and NOBODY reblogs my things" posts than it does art. You are a person making things to share with other people, and you have to remember it or you will burn yourself out into a desiccated husk.

TL:DR consistency is key and the easiest way to be consistent is to just draw whatever the fuck you live drawing in whatever ways you want to draw it, and then slap it on the internet somewhere and Keep Doing That

✨ The Actual Commission Information

this one is just factual really. A lot of artists have really shitty commission sheet layouts, because advertising graphic design and illustrative art are different skill sets. That's fine. You don't have to remake the wheel. A good commission sheet should include:

More images than text (if you can't see what the examples are when zoomed out, you have to rearrange or cut down on words)

Examples organized by price / type, and clearly labeled

Your personal favourites for examples - one really strong example piece is better than twenty tiny images of work you think is just "okay"

Contact information - having a method that works WITHOUT a social media account (email.) Is important and way easier to keep organized, imo

A SIMPLE list of strengths (the things you draw the best) and things you won't draw (common example: mechs). You do not need to list every fandom or subject matter. Limit yourself to a top five.

A clear and easy to type link for your terms of service. Carrd, and sites like it, is good for this. This will go into details about your process, what you will and won't do, permissions granted to the commissioner (like "no, you can't make an NFT with this"), your privacy policy (saying you won't sell commissioner details to third parties), and other stuff. You do not want to have all of this on your original post, because it should be thorough and you want your main post to be showcasing your work and not your legalese. Here's mine as a reference; if you have trouble writing your own, feel free to copy from it and make the necessary alterations for your work.

✨ There Was More I Was Going To Write But I Forgot

I have a different document of commission related talk here, which is also incomplete but in a different way. It's in my nature. Hopefully some combination of this and that can be useful to you. Sorry if they're not. I love you have a nice day

#not art #ask #ne0nwisp #i feel like this is a profoundly unhelpful word count but I Tried.

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dumbbitchenergy17 · 11 months

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Clan of Three (BOBF) - Chapter 1

Chapter One: The Mandalorian and the Jedi

Plot: A Mandalorian, an infant with a history of the jedi, and a teenager with similar powers with a slowly discovering lineage. With the child off with the Jedi, the close-knit pair continues their travels through the galaxy.

Word Count: 5.7K

Pairing: Father Figure!Din Djarin x Platonic!Teen!Reader

Warnings: fighting/violence, injuries, semi-angst, slight ptsd, some wholesome moments, father-daughter moments

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The streets are empty besides the few that travel with the star that the space station orbits around and lights sections of the streets before incasing it into darkness. Gentle footsteps were barely noticeable unless you were skilled in listening out for them. The men work away in the slaughterhouse the smell of raw meat and blood fills the air as the butches cut into the large slabs of meat a shadow passing by and one looks back catching something in the corner of his eye but shaking it off not seeing anything. Hidden behind the slaughterhouse is a makeshift officer who works the corrupt side hidden behind the facade of a meat packing industry. A Klatooinian sits at his desk working away while others stand around either talking to one another or making sure the man at the desk is well protected.

“Kaba Baiz…” A voice speaks out and they all look over at a hooded figure resting against one of the walls, “You sure are a difficult man to find.” They speak out as the men surrounding Kaba brandish weapons but the figure raises their hand, “You don’t want to hurt me.” The voice calming but commanding as Kaba watches his men lower their weapons obeying this stranger's orders. Looking back jumping back slightly seeing the hooded figure in front of the desk their hands resting on the table.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about…you’re looking at the wrong person.” He says and the figure chuckles and he can see their shoulders move with their laughter. “Trust me Kaba I’m looking at him. So here’s your option you either kindly follow me so I can turn you in and get my money or someone who won’t care if you’re alive is going to come. Your choice.” The person speaks and Kaba can see just a glimpse of their mouth as they smile waiting for his decision. He wasn’t sure if this person was insane or just dumb enough to think he would listen. The voice sounded young and to think whoever they were was trying to threaten him.

“Get lost. I won’t tell you again, I’m not your guy.” He says and he sees their shoulders slump. They reach out and grab a credit hold it up to the light seeing the integrity of it before dropping it back down.

“I did warn you..” They say and heavy footsteps grow closer to the room he turns to look back at the hooded figure finding them gone right as the plastic curtains open revealing a rugged man in shiny beskar armor. He should’ve taken their advice.

The night air cools your skin as you rest on a metal railing looking up at the space that was looking down at you. The cloak and mask covering your face were pulled back as you watched the stars move past you. The sounds of fighting faint coming from the building as you wait for it to die down before you hear footsteps though it sounds like something is being dragged as well.

“I’m guessing he didn’t take my deal.” You say looking over at the bounty hunter in his hand a sack that you assume contains Kaba's head. You instantly notice him limping and you quickly join his side, “What did you do?” You ask looking at his leg and seeing the large burn on his upper thigh the skin badly injured.

“I’m fine,” He says waving you off and taking a step forward but he can’t stop the groan from escaping his mouth and your body goes under his arm supporting his bad side, “What did I tell you about speaking to the bounties? What if they-” He speaks up his tone scolding and you roll your eyes.

“They didn’t see my face Din, and if they had you probably already took them out.” You say as you travel through the streets of Glavis Ringworld, you’ve both been traveling for bounties for information on the coverts of Mandalorians. With Din being reinstated into the Guild you could have some credits to keep you afloat but with no ship or a permanent home, you’ve bounced around planets and worlds following after the hardened Mandalorian. “We’re in this together…I’m not leaving you to do all the work.” You say leaving the grimy streets of Glavis to a more glitzy area, people dressed in silks and clothes covered in jewels. The two of you probably stuck out like sore thumbs you mainly, while Din had the shiny beskar armor you were dressed in layers of clothes. After the Jedi and Grogu left you and Din traveled with the group to see him get turned in from the New Republic before you both took off. It took time with the limited credits Din had from bounties though you put your effort in a pickpocket or two you never told the man. You were able to rebuild a new outfit. Your old one was too ripped up and covered in blood and you didn’t like the memories associated with the clothes.

Din didn’t say anything following your comment the both of you entered a turbolift with a Caskadag inside who moves to stand towards the side far away from the two of you. He could sense the unease in the man. Din glances down at you still reliving his weight off his bad leg, your gaze was straight forward a permanent frown etched on your features. You refused to speak about what happened on Moff Gideon’s cruiser as if the incident never existed but he could see the few moments the mask you put up cracked for just a second. The flash of panic in your eyes when someone touched you without warning, or when he caught you once as they traveled on a train after a bounty your gaze was focused on your hands. You hadn’t realized Din was watching as you flexed your hands curling them in and out of fists tracing the scars on your knuckles. You had completely shattered your knuckles and needed surgery luckily getting it from a medical droid on the cruiser, the little things you thought he didn’t notice he saw.

You were older…more mature. It was only a year from when he met you when you were seventeen but things had changed now. You smiled less, his poor excuses for jokes were met with laughter that didn’t reach your eyes, and you would stare off shutting out the world around you, when you fought you were vicious but you dissociate during them and once they were over your mind was a blur of what you did. He knew whatever Gideon had done to you would stick with you forever but keeping it all in wasn’t healthy. You had too much on your plate with the weapon that is technically yours but now resting on his. The Darksaber, you refused to touch it or glance at it, hearing the history and meaning of owning this weapon. To bring the people of Mandalore together and rule as Mand’alor but you rejected it and the title that weighs you down. He would think back on what that Jedi said when you rejected his offer to go train with him.

“Your connection to the force is driven by your emotions without proper guidance you walk a thin line that can have you fall down the path of the dark side,”

He wasn’t going to force you to train with the Jedi but he was still nervous when in moments punches wouldn’t be held back or threats to quarries weren’t a fear tactic. The turbolift reaches the floor you’re meant to go to and you and Din step forward the music of the lounge fills your ears. Din feels the helpful hand leave his side and he’s forced to limp forward just catching the hood and mask of your cloak coming on and you disappear without seeing where you went. It was a skill you had acquired with still being a target to the small remnants of the empire and it didn’t take long for news to spread of being the ancestor of a famous Jedi and the Mandalore Duchess. It was being hidden from the last bits of the empire that wishes to rid of the jedi, bounties looking for a highly valued bounty, and the New Republic with a possible political player. Din moves towards the private lounge reaching a table covered in an assortment of foods with people surrounding the table.

From the bar, you had a clear view of Din as he spoke to the contractor for the bounty. Raising your hand briefly to the bartender who comes over and a glass of spotchka is slid over to you and you in return place a credit on the bar, your gaze is still focused on Din as he speaks to them and you could sense the frustration coming from the Mandalorian.

“Hey, you wanna buy death sticks?” A voice calls out to you and you glance over at a man standing beside you holding out fluorescent sticks a smirk on his face.

"You don't want to sell me death sticks." You say with a slight wave of your hand and he steps back, "I don't wanna sell you death sticks." He says putting the sticks away.

"You want to go home and rethink your life." You say another small wave of your hand and he looks almost ashamed of his decision, "I wanna go home and rethink my life.” He says and you watch him turn to leave the lounge. You smirk pulling down your mask slightly to take a sip of the spotchka your lips curling at the burn from the liquid. You see Din taking the credits while placing the bag on the table before heading off. You leave the drink at the bar following after him sliding into the lift after him it ascends down. From the corner of your eye, Din examines the burn on his upper thigh.

Leaving the lift you back outside the cool air blows past you as you walk further from the glitz and glam of part of Glavis Ringworld to where the crimes lie and those who don’t want to be found. When there were only your and Din’s footsteps you pull the hood and mask off your face slowly trailing behind the limping Mandalorian. The loud machinery from the railway above you as you move deeper into the industrial layout, you see Din move his hand to his helmet as he scans the alley,

“What do you see?” You ask as he suddenly moves down an alley the sounds of the railways fading away,

“A path..” Din says and you follow after him as he continues after this trail apparently only he can see before you reach a hatch in the wall, “This is the place.” He says as he opens it entering with you close behind the doorway and shutting it behind you. Following down a stairwell that reveals the underneath of Glavis like its own city of metal bridges and platforms under the ring space station. A ladder leads down to a platform but how easy it could be to take a wrong step and fall straight into space and the rusty ladder doesn’t help either. Din heads down first taking it slow, especially with his leg everything was fine until his leg hits the rung and he slips down. Your hand grabs his wrist as you half hang off the top platform as he clutches the ladder.

“Din…are you okay?!” You ask panic in your eyes, it would be so easy to slip and fall off and you had reacted so fast down almost upside down on this ladder your other hand holding onto the railing.

“I’m fine kid,” He hisses in pain in his legs, “I gotta help you though,” He tries moving up to help your hanging body but you shake your head.

“Just head down I’ll be fine.” You reassure him as he painfully heads down the rest of the ladder and once he’s down he looks up at you as you try bringing yourself up but your body is so far off the ladder.

“Kriffff…” You sigh before fixing your grip on the ladder, “Make sure to grab me if I fall and die.” You call out to him, “What do you mean fal-Maker kid!” Din yells seeing you fully flip your body off the platform your hands twisting on the rung as your back hits and you lose your grip falling straight off the ladder. Your hands grip the side of the floor your hold quickly losing and your weightless falling straight into space.

“Shit!”

A harsh grip on your wrist as your held above the vast amount of space and you look up at Din who’s holding you up with one hand, “Give me your hand kid,” You can hear the strain in his voice from holding you with one hand and his leg digs into the metal grating. Swinging your other arm and you grab his arm as he pulls you up and you swing your leg catching onto the platform rolling onto it. You lay on your back trying to calm your heaving breaths as Din sits back trying to calm his own rapidly beating heart, this kid was going to give him a heart attack one of these days.

“Don’t…do that…again.” He pants and you nod holding a thumbs up, “Yeah…thanks for catching me.” You respond weakly before you push yourself to stand holding out your hand to Din, “Come on old man,” You say and you can feel the look he gives you through his helmet but gladly accepts your hand groaning when putting weight on his leg. Heading through the platform as it opens up more area and further ahead on a jutted-out platform you saw the female Mandalorian sitting with her weapons besides her looking to be praying. Din walks forward down a small step but his leg gives out and he grabs his leg, you rush to his side looking over his leg which looked worse.

“Tend to him.” The Armorer calls out and you hear footsteps seeing a very tall and buff Mandalorian compared to Din, “I didn’t know if I would ever see you again.” The man says with a gruff deep voice as he holds a medpack with him,

“Thank you for saving me on Nevarro,” Din says as your hand grazes the burn and he shudders in pain, “Sorry..” You whisper before rubbing your hands on your pants to get rid of sweat, “I don’t know if I’ll be as good as the child when he did it..” You explain before bringing your hand to rest over his thigh and focusing. Breathing through your nose focusing on the breathing and the energy you put it to heal him. Your focus is broken when you’re shoved away from Din falling and you push yourself on your elbows.

“We do not wish for your jedi witchcraft.” The Mandalorian hisses at you and you look at him in shock from the venom in his tone.

“Don’t touch her.” Din tries moving to your defense but groans in pain from his leg.

“Calm yourself Paz Vizsla…the girl is of Mandalore blood.” The Armorer warns him standing up and watching the interaction.

“She does not wear Mandalorian armor. She does not Walk the Way…she is a jedi. She is no Mandalorian.” Vizsla aims his words at you and you can feel his glare through the beskar. His hand moves to point at you and a screech fills the air an orange blade is aimed at him. He recoils back from the heat the blade gives off the kyber crystal producing a powerful and quite destructive blade.

“Touch me again and you will walk no way Mandalorian…” You hiss your body tense on the defensive your threat weighs heavy in the air.

“Kid..” Din calls out and your glare shifts from Vizsla to your guardian, you can feel the look he was giving you and the blade retracts as you quickly stand glaring down at Vizsla. You’re already moving heading off to Maker knows where just wanting to be anywhere but here.

Your legs hang over the platform though no railing might be scary to others you felt at peace having them dangling over the edge. Your fingers trace the raised skin on your knuckles, the shattering pain with each blow you gave flashes of his face and all that blood.

“This is the non-diplomatic option,”

You hiss in pain your hand instinctively rests on your stomach though no scars lie there the memories and the phantom pain forever haunts you.

“Ibic cuyir te ara.” A voice whispers out into the air and you turn towards it finding nothing around you but silence. Swinging your legs back to safety walking on the catwalk back towards the three Mandalorians trying your best to ignore the unease that coats your body.

You can hear large metal moving as you draw closer and you see Din and Vizsla connecting large tubes to what looks like the smelter back in the tunnels on Nevarro.

“Where did you come upon the Darksaber?” Vizsla ponders looking at the weapon attached to Din’s belt, “She defeated Moff Gideon.” Din responds while connecting another tube,

“Then why do you wield it?” Vizsla asks and Din pauses sensing your presence and seeing you have now joined but you sit away from them but certainly in hearing distance. You were leaning against a crate your nose in one of the old texts that you’ve re-read multiple times. He didn’t fully understand some of them not even in Basic but you read them like someone else was hidden within the pages. He saw the disdain and hatred you would give to the weapon he wielded but only for the use of it not as its owner. It’s owner refuses to touch it.

“I can not answer that.” Din replies and they continue working, “Did she kill him.” Hearing Paz’s question his mind could only go back to the light cruiser.

Your fists cave in the warlord’s face the fury in your eyes and blood paints your body. Screams of rage and hysterics as you beat the life out of the man that had tarnished the last glimpse of your innocence. Standing above him the wildness in your face as you hold the Darksaber ready to deliver the killing blow. “He has to die! I’ll kriffing kill him. Gideon has to!”

It was a wrath Din never expected to come from you but you were tainted by that man. Whatever was said to you before Gideon had attacked you was burned into your mind. It was violent and graphic that he hadn’t thought would be occurring to you out of all people, you were kind, compassionate, and caring of others, but Gideon took that from you and he paid the consequences.

“No,” He says shaking his head trying to get rid of those thoughts, “But he was sent off to the New Republic for interrogation, and he will face justice for his crimes.”

“Death would have been justice for his atrocities,” Paz says and Din can’t help to agree. If his priority wasn’t you or the child and the knowledge he has for the New Republic, Gideon’s guts would be spread across that light cruiser.

“This is true. The blood of millions of our kind is on his hands.” The Armorer replies as the smelter powers up flames appearing highlighting the beskar armor.

“Then he will be executed for his crimes by the New Republic Tribunal.” Din says stepping forward as the Armorer moves from the flames to a cupboard, “We shall see. The songs of eons past foretold of the Mythosaur rising up to herald a new age of Mandalore. Sadly, it only exists in legends. Where did you come upon the beskar spear?”

Din moves forward pulling the spear off his back and holding it out for the Armorer to take, “It was the gift of a Jedi. It can block a lightsaber. I used it to rescue the child.” The Armorer examines the weapon hitting it to the ground as the pure beskar rings through the air,

“It can also pierce beskar armor. Its mere existence puts Mandalorians at risk. Mandalorian steel is meant for armor, not weapons.” She says and Din pauses before glancing over at the girl still away from them and the small child off with the Jedi.

“Then forge it into armor.” He says and the female Mandalorian nods, “The Darksaber is a more noble weapon for you to wield. Though the true owner of the weapon should wield this weapon.”

The Armorer puts the beskar spear on top of the smelter glowing a bright red as it heats to a level to melt Din takes a seat before the woman working, “Have you ever heard of Bo-Katan Kryze?” The name has your head perking up, you and Bo-Katan following Grogu’s departure with the jedi had little time to learn of each other. Even then you were practically out of it the world blurring by you as your father’s aunt tried to learn about you and your father but only short sentences or no responses came. Your conversation ended there as Din pulled you away with Cara’s help to get you cleaned up and seen by the medical droid, your blood and…his was still drying on your skin and your knuckles were shattered.

“Bo-Katan is a cautionary tale,” The Armorer explains thinking back on her history of the Kryze House as she pours the melted liquid from a tube into a container to solidify, “She once laid claim to rule Mandalore based purely on blood and the sword you now possess. But it was gifted to her and not won by Creed. Bo-Katan Kryze was born of a mighty house, but they lost sight of the way. Her rule ended in tragedy. They lost their way, and we lost our world. Had our sect not been cloistered on the moon of Concordia, we would have not survived the Great Purge. Those born of Mandalore strayed away from the path. Eventually, the Imperial interlopers destroyed all that we knew and loved in the Night of a Thousand Tears.”

You could feel the tension coming off both Mandalorians and the sadness coming off Din, “Only those that walked the way escaped the curse prophesized in the Creed. Though our numbers were scattered to the winds, our adherence to the way has preserved our legacy for the generations until we may someday return to our homeworld.” The Armorer says before looking back at Din, “What shall I forge?”

Din glances at you and your gaze darts from him having been caught listening in, “Something for foundlings.” He suggests and the Armorer has an idea who one of them is and she nods “This is the way. Who is the other foundling?”

“The child…Grogu.” Din says and his chest aches with the reminder his other foundling was not with him, a part of his heart empty, his clan incomplete.

“He’s no longer in your care. He is with his own kind now.” The Armorer reminds him and the bounty hunter nods, “I want to see him, make sure he’s safe.” He says and the Armorer looks down at the man.

“In order to master the ways of the Force, Jedi must forgo all attachment.” She explains and Din hates to hear that. Was the child meant to let go of both himself and you, just forget to be able to properly train? Was this why you rejected the Jedi’s request? But was he a problem with stopping you from mastering the Force, this attachment you had for him for others?

“That is the opposite of our Creed. Loyalty and Solidarity are the way.” Din replies and the Armorer nods, “What shall I forge for the foundlings?”

You watch behind your book as the Armorer works around the smelter and other equipment clearly in her element and you can’t clearly see what she creates but she works diligently. Your focus is glued to the Mandalorian working away you didn’t notice your own Mandalorian’s presence near you.

“Kid..” Din’s touch is gentle on your shoulder but not accounted for as you stiffen your head snapping towards the foreign encounter. Your body relaxes once you realize it was only Din and you look forward to watching the Armorer work. “Kid.” He calls out again and you hum letting him know you have his attention, “You alright..just with what happened earlier and all.” He asks and your gaze returns back to the man though you can no longer see his face you could imagine the concern hidden behind his helmet, his brows furrowed, a frown painting his mouth, and his eyes filled with worry. You nod trying to reassure him.

“I’m fine Din,” You say trying to ignore the venom that burns your skin from Vizsla’s words, “It made sense to be wary of me, aren’t Jedi and Mandalorians sworn enemies or something.” You avert your gaze.

“Well, some still believe that,” He starts but seeing the hurt in your eyes he quickly backtracks, “I mean...I don’t believe that. You hear me. I could never hate you.” He grabs your hand and your gaze is still forward.

“But I’m no Mandalorian,” You say and Din gives you a look, “Of course, you are you’re-” “I know that physical...yes, I’m from Mandalore..I have the Dark-” You stop yourself before finishing the sentence your gaze briefly meeting the weapon before you quickly look away trying to calm your rapid heartbeat, “But I’m not like you. I don’t wear the armor, I don’t speak your Creed, I don’t walk the way.” An empty laugh leaves you as your gaze looks at the saber attached to your belt, “Could hardly call myself a jedi either.” You neither walked the way of the Mandalorians nor the way of the jedi. Din looks at the defeated look on your face before he stands up,

“Olaror. Laam,” (Come. Up,) He calls out holding a hand and you look at his hand before he gestures for you to take it. You’re pulled to your feet, “See you already understand what I’m saying. Already closer to being Mandalorian.” He says and starts away from the Armorer who is still working away. Following after him finding yourself on the catwalk from before as he stops turning to face you. “Okay come at me.” He holds his hands out and you look at him with a slight form of shock,

“What?” “Come on, no weapons, no powers, just straight fists.” He says and you shake your head, “Din I’m not fighting you,”

“Well, I’m not stopping until you do.” He says and before you could get another word a fist is flying toward your face. Leaning back avoiding the attack as you look at him in shock, “Come on,” He flexes his fist and you look at him before dodging another attack spinning around him so you both are on opposite sides. Your hands flex at your sides watching his movement, his fighting was fluid with powerful strikes while also thinking about his weak spots. There was a reason he was a well-feared bounty hunter. You had only got the jump on him a few times was pure luck on your end. In a real fight against him without using your saber or the force you were screwed.

“Stop worrying,” He calls out, “You know I’m stronger than you in a hand-to-hand fight, but you’re smarter use your wits to help you,” Din says looking over at you and you nod. He aims another punch toward you and you dodge kicking your leg out it connecting with the healing burn on his calf he grunts grabbing your ankle and twisting it forcing you to hit the ground. He tries pinning you but you spin around landing another kick right on the side of his ribs where the beskar plate doesn’t protect him. He’s quick with defense his fist striking against your chest and the wind is slightly knocked out of you as you fall back clutching your chest trying to catch your breath. He stalks towards you his hand grabbing your ankle and dragging you forward. When you’re close to him your free foot kicks against his chest your arms gripping his shoulders and with all your strength you throw him over you. He flips over not expecting it as he hits the ground and you hear a groan come from him. You stand rubbing your hand to your chest as he too stands as well both out of breath he nods,

“Good…you did good.” He says and you nod your breath calming down the pain in your chest now dull. Looking down he notices the Darksaber had unclipped from his belt and he moves to grab it, “You’re smart to target weakness you did good…kid? Kid..?”

You’re frozen looking at the weapon before you. Trapped unable to breathe or move. There was no flight or fight. You could only hear the blood pumping wildly through your body and your head spun making you weak. You felt restrained..back on the cruiser…back with…him. His touch sears your skin his words toxic as they drown you. You were overwhelmed by it unable to move, to think, to breathe, you were trapped within your own body. Bile fills your throat as your hands flex and unflex remembering the pain from your hands trying to focus on anything but what happened…what he did..just him.

“y/n..” You felt hands on your body and you reacted your vision blinded as they collided with something fighting them off and shoving them away. A yell fills the air before arms wrap around you pinning your arms to the side. Your thrash violently screams tearing through your throat as you’re brought to the ground.

“Stop Kid! Y/n…kid! You’re alright breathe!” The voice clears the fear as your hands shake violently gasping for air as hands grab your face forcing you to look at the beskar helmet. “Breathe…breathe.” He says showing an exaggerated inhale and exhale as you copy with your shaky inhales and exhales.

“I...I’m sorry…I’m sorry…I’m sorry.” You frantically apologize trying to push him off, he shouldn’t see you weak. He didn’t need that baggage but he shushes you pulling you into his chest and your hands are like vices clutching the cape on his back your face cool against the beskar. “You’re fine..you’re fine cyar’ika.” He mumbles his hand smoothing over your hair the other rubbing your back gently as you weakly mumble apologies.

“She’s a danger to rebuilding our covert.” Paz Vizsla’s voice makes you jump and Din holds you close to him pulling back to look at the Mandalorian that was breathing heavily with anger. Din had known when you pulled into yourself or dissociated following a fight be cautious around you not sure how you could react. But Vizsla had just appeared and the next thing either of them knew you were shoving the man off the catwalk. Luckily he had his jetpack to return him to safety but it was unprovoked and just instinct. Din had to restrain you when your hand moved for your saber unaware of what you would do when in a state of panic.

“She’s a child and my ward,” Din says ready to fight tooth and nail to keep you safe beside him. Especially against this man for the threat against his clan member.

“She leaves or I will do it myself.” Vizsla threatens, stepping forward and Din shifts putting you behind him aiming his blaster only to get one in return.

“You lay one finger on her-”

“Enough!” The Armorer’s voice breaks through the fight about to break out both lower their blasters before the female Mandalorian turns over to Viszla, “Paz Vizsla, have you ever removed your helmet?” She asks and Vizsla shakes his head firmly,

“No.”

“Has it ever been removed by others?”

“Never.” He says confidently and the Armorer nods, “This is the way.” Vizsla quickly repeats the saying. The Armorer then turns to Din looking at him.

“Din Djarin, have you ever removed your helmet?” Din is frozen and you were fearful about the response. You knew he had…he had taken it off for you and the child. “Have you ever removed your helmet? By Creed, you must vow.” She repeats again when he remains silent.

“I have.” He says.

“Then, you are a Mandalorian no more.” She says and Din moves forward towards the woman, “I beg you for your forgiveness. How can I atone?”

“Leave, apostate.” Vizsla hisses at him stepping forward but the Armorer holds up her hand, “According to Creed, one may only be redeemed in the Living Waters beneath the mines of Mandalore.” She explains as you listen but flashes of an open cave filled with waters return from your memory. But that was only a dream…or a vision.

“But the mines have all been destroyed.” Din replies and the woman looks at him, “This is the way.” She says before holding out something wrapped in cloth and the Darksaber which Din accepts. Looking at the two Mandalorians now an apostate he turns to the girl still on the ground watching the interaction before he helps you to your feet and you give one final look at the pair before following after Din. Returned to the streets of Glavis you look at the silent Manda... bounty hunter as he walks through the streets. Would you be able to call him a Mandalorian anymore? It’s silent as you walk side but side but he leads before you speak up.

“I’m sorry..” Your voice breaks the silence as he glances down at you, “It’s my fault you’re an apostate..if I hadn’t protected the child on Thyton we wouldn’t have been taken…you wouldn’t have to come after us..you wouldn’t have to take off your helme-” “Stop kid.” He cuts your rambling off and you look at him ready for his scolding or just more silence.

“I took my helmet off because I wanted to…our mishaps had nothing to force that.” He says and you nod slowly before your hand slides into his squeezing it and he returns one, “What do we do now..”

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #the mandalorian #the book of boba fett #clan of three series #din djarin #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din x reader #din djarin x jedi!reader #din djarin x teen!reader #mando x reader

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wouldtheybecomeafearavatar · 3 months

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What are Avatars and Entities Anyway?

Since there's been some questioning from the non-TMA side of fandoms, here are the basic definitions of Avatars, Fear Entities, and each specific one.

There are 15 Fear Entities in The Magnus Archive (Podcast). They are supernatural beings that feed on fear of specific kind. The division is a little arbitrary and there are overlaps between them, but this is the system used in the universe, so we are going with it!

Each has Avatars, manifestations and artefacts that cause that fear in living beings (yes, not only humans, if very heavily humans). Artefacts are just that, objects that cause creepy and supernatural things to happen. Manifestations are living counterparts to artefacts that were never anything but. We are not concerned with them.

Avatars are people who used to be human, but through choice of circumstance came to represent, serve, and/or cause specific type of fear. The choice needs to be there, but not necessarily be informed or enthusiastic.

Each of the Fears has obvious interpretations associated with them, but often cover metaphorical fears too. And, some fears can be a part of multiple. (eg. the fear of insignificance can be an element of The Vast, or the Lonely)

The Buried. The fear of small, enclosed spaces, of suffocation, and being trapped. Often associated with drowning, being buried alive, being overwhelmed.

The Corruption. The fear of corruption, disease, and disgust. Often associated with insects, decay, illness, and unhealthy love.

The Dark. The fear of being unable to see, of unseen, of the dark itself. Often associated with literal dark spaces, blindness, hiding monsters, and unknown.

The Desolation. The fear of pain and loss, destruction, and senseless devastation. Often associated with fire, war*, and destroyed potential.

The End. The fear of death - most straightforward of them all. Often associated with remains and undead creatures.

The Extinction. The fear of a large scale catastrophe, death, replacement. Often associated with alarmist rhetoric and of destruction of humankind by our own hands. But, it does not has to be a complete destruction of an entire species. (eg. A disappearing culture can fall under extinction too. Or an apocalyptic, but not barren future.)

The Eye. A fear of being watched, known, and exposed. Often associated with curiosity, stalking, and surveillance.

The Flesh. The fear of being seen as meat, of realisation that you are meat, of your flesh being wrong. Often associated with animals, with the meat-packing industry, and with body dysmorphia and dysphoria.

The Hunt. The fear of being chased and hunted. Often associated with instincts, animals, and monsters.

The Lonely. The fear of isolation, abandonment, and disconnection. Often associated with fog, empty spaces, (faceless) crowds*, and suburbs.

The Slaughter. The fear of senseless violence and pain; unlike the Desolation is concerned directly with the living, not objects or possibility. Often associated with murder, and war*.

The Spiral. The fear of one's own mind, of madness, and of deception. Often associated with fractals, illusions, and neurodiversity of all kinds.

The Stranger. The fear of unfamiliar and uncanny. Often associated with uncanny valley (dolls, mannequins, taxidermy), circuses and performances, and faceless crowds*.

The Vast. The fear of space and insignificance. Often associated with heights, large open spaces (ocean, sky, space), and losing oneself*.

The Web. The fear of being manipulated, controlled, and trapped*, of having no free will. Often associated with spiders and puppets*.

*might be a part of multiple Fears depending on circumstances

#tma #the magnus archives #archivist activity

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prismatic-bell · 6 months

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I'm so interested by the implications of the phrase "the American and European shift from having meat as a side to a main dish." like what? meat hasn't always been a dietary main?

It has not!

For much of history worldwide, the “staple grain” of an area (usually wheat, rice, or corn, although there are others) has been the main component of food in that area, with vegetables for flavor and filling and meat on the side or as a small component of the dish. And this actually makes a lot of sense if you consider that Gertrude the peasant in 1362 couldn’t just walk down to Ye Olde Wallmarte and pick up a nice sirloin—even if there was a butcher shop in town, she probably couldn’t afford it. The meat in her diet would’ve been stuff like squirrels or crows she managed to catch and kill in her vegetable garden. Maybe, MAYBE once or twice a year she could afford to get a leg of mutton or a goose. Gertrude the Peasant would look at a modern-day American barbecue and assume its hosts were royalty. All that meat? Spices? SALT? (Salt was actually stupidly rare in the Middle Ages because of how difficult it was to mine. The table shaker in your cabinet is more salt than a Middle Ages peasant would likely consume in their entire life.)

Vegetables, meanwhile, are relatively easy to store when you don’t have refrigeration. Beans, peas, and corn can all be dried. Gourds, potatoes, and turnips can last for MONTHS in a cold cellar. Starting in 1809, you could can your fruit and veggies in glass jars. But meat? Either you had to eat it fresh, or you had to go to some serious labor to preserve it—smoking, drying, packing in salt, that kind of thing. It just wasn’t feasible for most people.

On top of that, raising meat properly is expensive. Let’s take a chicken, which is actually relatively economical. You need a coop, which you’ll have to keep clean—every once in awhile you have to literally clean the shit out of it. (Makes good fertilizer, though.) The coop needs to be built securely enough to keep out foxes, raccoons, wild dogs, and snakes. You need an outdoor pen of some kind, because chickens are dumb and absolutely will run off if allowed to do so. The chickens will happily forage here for bugs, but you’re probably going to want to supplement their bugs with feed. You’ll also need straw for bedding, which means either threshing and drying grass or wheat yourself or purchasing it from someone else (don’t forget, you have to do all of this by hand because the only automated machine to really have been invented yet is the water mill). And you need the SPACE for all this, and all of this is before your hens have laid a single egg.

Your hens provide the eggs you use for bread, filler in soup, maybe just poached or boiled as a meal. And they do so in perpetuity for several years. You’re not going to kill one for a meal on a whim—you’re only going to do it if they become a danger to your other chickens or if they stop laying, because otherwise you’re giving up years’ worth of food security for one meal. Same with goats and cows—they’re worth more to you alive and making milk (and babies you can sell at market) than they are dead.

So for a very long time, meat was prohibitively expensive and difficult to get. It was eaten in small quantities, and not for most meals, either. The places this wouldn’t have been true—Arctic and subarctic indigenous tribes, for example—would have been the exception, not the rule. Meat-heavy diets in most of the world came about as a result of industrialization and refrigeration.

#you ask nina answers

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chaplinfortheages · 22 days

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Charlie Chaplin with writers Upton Sinclair (white suit) & Rob Wagner 1918, on set of “Shoulder Arms” 1918.

Upton Sinclair (1878-1968), an author and Pulitzer Prize winner but most famous for his 1906 book “The Jungle”. “The Jungle” exposed the U.S. Meat Packing Industry, shocking in it’s portrayal of the unsanitary conditions and how unsafe it was for public health. This ultimately led to stricter inspections in the form of the “Pure Food and Drug Act” & “Meat Inspection Act”.

An author, Rob Wagner among his many talents, published weekly liberal magazine “Script” from 1929-1949, it’s focus film industry, California and national politics.

Both Upton Sinclair and Rob Wagner were very influential in Charlie Chaplin early political worldview.

Source of top photo: (x)

#charlie chaplin #upton sinclair #rob wagner #1918 #set of “shoulder arms”

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swap-and-possessions · 1 year

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Suit Vlogger: Comeback

Channel Name: Swapsider99

Subscriber Count: 60,999 (+1498 within the last hour)

Aiden: Hello, guys! Welcome back to my channel, where I will showcase the freshest and coolest bodysuits in the market. I’m Swapsider99, and I am here with a new vlog after buying my latest bodysuit.

Aiden: If you are wondering why my last video disappeared, it’s because it got taken down. I may have overlooked a visible pack of meat during the editing process. I guess it was so huge that it set off NewTube’s alarms. Don’t worry. I will upload it back with a copious amount of blurring. There is also my ‘OnlyBods’ link below, where you can watch the unedited footage, as well as, the behind-the-scenes footage and a few NSFW shots.

Aiden: It’s fun wearing this suit while it lasts. As I said in the last video, this suit is on the cheaper end of the spectrum. While it looks heavenly, it did come with its array of problems. One, I don’t look the same way as before. They warned me about how rapidly my suit would age after use. It’s something about the faulty enzymes that preserve the bodysuit from decomposition. I still look like one hell of a stud, though.

Aiden: Too bad, cumming on this suit takes a lot of me compared to before. I’ll terribly miss this suit.

[Aiden opens the seam on his back and removes the bodysuit. He is naked, but his crotch is out of the video’s frame. Sweat covers his body entirely.]

Aiden: After the first one, I reminded myself not to wear the suit with clothes on. This may look like sweat, but it’s not. It’s the enzymes that connect you better with your bodysuit. It evaporates when exposed to light, but it does leave a stink on your body. If anyone’s wondering, it smells like my old college shower rooms. That place brings horrible yet arousing memories.

Aiden: Lucky for me, my subscriber count exploded after the first video. I can’t believe it myself. Just a few days ago, I only had my best friend as my subscriber. And now? There are sixty thousand of you watching, and it’s just getting higher. With that many subscribers, I got enough funds to buy another bodysuit before the first video got taken down. I’m excited to show you the MARTIN-20X model.

[Aiden pulls the bodysuit from the bag.]

Aiden: Ooh! This one is hairier than the last one. The MARTIN-20X model is still a bit low-end for the latest bodysuits in the market, but the salesman assured me that it’s better than this old skin.

[Aiden raises the old bodysuit to the camera]

Aiden: It has twice as many neuropathic junctions, and that means I get to feel the outside world twice as much. I thought the old bodysuit’s tactile sensations were already enough. I didn’t know it could get better. I also window-shopped in the better bodysuits, and those have more junctions than this one. Still, I got to be happy with this one.

Aiden: To describe the bodysuit, it’s as real as human skin. The hairs are soft to the touch, and it kind of tickles. Unlike the prior suit, I feel something warm from the skin's surface. They said it’s another function to preserve the suit from decomposition. There’s no power connected to the suit, though. I wonder where it’s getting the energy for the warmth. Hell! I could even use this suit as a blanket during the winter if it’s going to be this comfortable and warm.

Aiden: But I’m not reviewing a blanket, are we? [Aiden Laughs]. We’re reviewing a bodysuit, and they are supposed to be worn. I’m so excited to wear this skin.

[While Aiden is wearing the suit, his eyes dart to the camera as he talks.]

Aiden: According to the bodysuit’s manual, this bodysuit was based on several phenotypes of famous men. They didn’t say where, but I supposed some came from the porn industry. [Aiden’s eyes dart towards his blurred crotch]. If you know what I mean.

Aiden: For me, it reminds me of my neighbor when I was a horny college student. He stood as tall as his apartment door frame and built like a bull underneath the baggy sweat jacket he tends to wear. I could always recognize his distinct heavy footsteps whenever he came either from work or from the club with accompanying men and women wrapped in his arms. To my next-door neighbor, Mr. Derek, please know that the walls of our apartment are thin. To hear your moans and grunts every night was both heaven and hell. I spent so many sleepless nights wondering how pleased you are with the men and women you bring every night. Even now, I wish to hear those again. I guess I can when I moan with this bodysuit on.

[Aiden wore the bodysuit. He would occasionally stop and moan seductively as he touched his body.]

Aiden: It’s true. You don’t notice the difference in the tactile feedback unless you wore a better suit. I was numb and cold compared to before. But this? I’m on fire, baby! Fuck! I could feel the gasp of my breath. And look at these goosebumps! [Aiden lifts his arm to the camera] See? It’s as if I’m not wearing a bodysuit at all! And these muscles, jeez. They may not look defined, but the strength, it’s something you feel rather than see. Is this how you feel every day, Mr. Derek? I used to question where you’re getting the confidence to find someone to fuck with every day. I could see it clearly now.

[Aiden pulls the bodysuit’s mask over his head. He made sure to fit his ears in their proper holes and to align his eyes over the sockets. It was loose at the start, but it soon tightened around his head. He would have felt groggy but has already gotten used to it.]

Aiden: Test. Test one two. Since the last bodysuit was modeled after me, the voice wasn’t changed. It is different for this one. It’s a whole lot deeper – maybe, in the mid-baritone range. I’m not consciously doing it, but there’s a bit of a Southern drawl in my accent. It’s a surprise because the salesperson who sold me this suit didn’t say anything about an accent. Hell! I’m not complaining. My voice feels and sounds like dark butter running down my throat. I might have seduced a couple of watchers already.

[The scene cuts to Aiden walking around the house naked. This time, he made sure to blur every time his crotch got into the camera. Although, it was different for his OnlyBods webpage where his subscribers could see the full glory of his cock.]

Aiden: Not only am I strong, but I’m also quite tall too! Getting used to this height would take a while. As you can see, I’m bumping into stuff. I got the hang of walking after getting a close-up meeting with the floor several times. My hairy buttcheeks are still cherry red. Anyway, getting used to this body will take a few more hours. That is it for today’s vlog. If you reached the end of this video and still haven’t subscribed, please click the subscribe button, if you want to see more bodysuits. It’s me, Swapsider99! Signing out.

[Read the NSFW continuation at my Patreon]

[Read Part 1 here]

#Bodysuit #Skinsuit #Male Bodysuit #Male Skinsuit

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it-was-funeral-grey · 1 year

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And away (Al Haitham x F!Reader)

Prequel Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Extra 1 Masterlist

Summary: now that all that's settled, it's time to head back to vimara village. (all hail imaginary kaveh)

Warnings: mentions of medicine, the meat industry and its processes, economics macro and micro, boat travel, awkwardness, denial, internal battles, vulgarities, mild injuries (sprained ankle), carrying, mentions of sanitary pads, ect, spying on friends .

Word count: <4.3k words

Inspired by: Telephone - Waterparks

"I know we only just met, so why do I feel invested?"

Author's note: i had to dig out all my economics knowledge for this lol. i still almost failed econs so just pretend that i make total sense for the sake of the story pls. Also, i may come back and mass re edit this.

Thank you for all the lovely comments for part 3! it really made my day! i'm sorry if this part isnt as good as the rest! I tried

Please give criticism! Also, if i missed any warnings, do tell me so i can add them!

Out of all the issues Al Haitham has to deal with, Port Ormos is the most pressing and the source of many other problems.

No trade means no business. No business means no jobs. No jobs mean no work, which means no income for both Sumeru and the people. And especially since Port Ormos is Sumeru's main port, national income has taken a hard hit. Akademiya economists have been sending him report after report about their concerns about Sumeru's economic forecast. It does not look good.

In addition, no trade means that Sumeru doesn't get new resources anymore. While Sumeru is mostly self-sufficient food-wise, many resources still cannot be obtained locally- or are mostly imported. And since Port Ormos is both Sumeru's largest and main port, lots of imports are not coming in anymore.

For example, there's currently a national shortage of cold medicines, which Sumeru usually imports from Snezhnaya. Particularly during monsoon seasons, cases of colds, dengue fever and the flu increase amongst the population. But Snezhnayan traders and businesses have pulled away from Sumeru after the Akademiya scandal. Bimarstan had gotten so desperate for cold medicine that it had begun asking locals to donate their leftover medicine. To ease the burden on the Bimarstan, Al Haitham had ordered Amurta to help mass manufacture medicines. However, this is only a stopgap measure. He needs to find a way to solve the root cause of the problem.

Furthermore, inflation has been a growing issue. The situation isn't so bad in Sumeru city, as its tiny port is still running- albeit not as smoothly or vibrantly as it used to. But in other parts of Sumeru, it's a whole different story.

Everything is connected in a way. Just because Sumeru isn't reliant on imports for food doesn't mean food prices are not affected by the lack of other resources. For example, to produce fowl meat, you'll need a few things:

Either machinery (mostly from Fontaine) or workers to slaughter the fowl.

Appropriate packaging to pack the fowl meat.

Transport to carry your produce to marketplaces throughout Sumeru.

In this case, most issues lie with step one. Most farmers in Sumeru had taken to using Fontaine machinery to mass slaughter poultry. It was much cheaper than hiring workers and way more efficient. The only trade-off was that these machines ran on a specific type of oil that only is sold in Fontaine. So, manufacturers would sell the oil alongside it.

But now, Fontaine traders and businesses are gradually pulling away from Sumeru. That means a lesser supply of oil, which means a decrease in the supply of fowl since machines are not able or cost more to run. A shortage means that prices go up. People buy less or cannot afford fowl at all. Farmers make less money, which prevents them from hiring more workers (or results in them letting go of workers if they don't use machinery) to increase the fowl supply. A case of cost-push inflation, similar to other case studies Al Haitham has read up on.

This is just one example out of many. The inflation and unemployment rate are growing. Adding everything up, including the current political climate, Sumeru is becoming less and less attractive to traders and businesses, causing them to pull away, worsening the Sumeru economy. It's a vicious cycle that Al Haitham needs to break.

If Al Haitham had to list all the issues Port Ormos has caused him, he'd be able to write himself all the way to an economic degree. Which he'll be able to sign off, now that he thinks about it. He's the Acting Grand Sage. He'll announce his own name. Present the degree to himself. Shake his own hand.

But anyway, the main point is that if he's able to revitalise Port Ormos, many other issues will resolve themselves. He had finally had a lucky break that Thursday and was free to head to Port Ormos to speak to the trade supervisors. But then, of course, stuff happened, and he wasn't able to do all that.

Which is why he's heading back to Vimara village again today. He specifically worked through the entire night in his cold office, wet clothes clinging uncomfortably on his body just so he could make time today for this. This time, he's going to make sure he speaks to the trade supervisors and settle this once and for all. He's ready to negotiate to hell and back to ensure the port reopens.

No surprises today, he'll make sure of it.

"Oh! You're heading back to Vimara Village?"

Well. Never mind, then.

The rising heat only hits the moment he walks out of the tavern.

Treasures Street is empty tonight because of the heavy rain. Shops have closed early- the only exception being the tavern. But even so, Al Haitham feels too exposed. He doesn't feel cold anymore. The heat blooming in his cheeks and all over him makes sure of that.

Al Haitham quickens his pace. There's still a long walk to the Akademiya. The faster he gets there, the more time he'll have to finish whatever he has to do.

The faster he gets there, the less time he'll have to think about what just happened.

Let's review.

First of all, he fainted. Presumably right in front or around her house- so that's how she found him. Fine. He can't fault himself for that. He had been running on less than three hours of sleep that week. The cherry on top had been that four-hour trek he had to do on top of that. He was exhausted. The human body has its limits.

But then he woke up and bawled his eyes out like a baby. In front of her. A total stranger. She pushed a bowl of the best meal he ever had (and his only meal in two days) into his face, and he cried. He cried so much that he passed out. Again. Until the following evening.

It takes a lot of willpower from Al Haitham to not squat down and cringe in the middle of the street.

Archons, he's pathetic.

His cheeks burn, and he instinctively moves a hand to cover his face. The movement is accompanied by a crumpling sound, which reminds him of the snack he was given before he left the tavern.

Taking cover under Menakeri's Treasure Shop, he removes the neatly bundled wrap from its paper bag. The rain isn't letting up. He couldn't be more drenched, but thankfully, the wrap is still dry- courtesy of the paper bag he took from Lambad's counter.

The wrap is still warm, and he curses when the rainwater on his hand seeps into the napkins. Removing it quickly, he holds the wrap in his hands.

Wait. What's he going to do with the wrap?

He should throw it away. It's a terrible waste of food, but he can't afford to eat and feel sleepy later. He has to finish everything and then some, so he'll be free to head back to Vimara village tomorrow.

She held out the bundle with trembling hands.

The wrap suddenly feels heavy. Looking around, he spots a rubbish bin just a step away outside the shop.

She had left her warm, comfortable spot just to make sure he had something to eat.

He should really get going. Throw it away. And then leave for the Akademiya. But his feet refuse to move.

"They're worried about you, you know?"

Why don't you worry about yourself instead?

"Oh! You're heading back to Vimara Village?"

You weren't expecting to see the Acting Grand Sage again. Much less on the ferry Cyno had arranged to bring you back to Vimara village.

If the Acting Grand Sage was surprised, he hid it well. Slowly turning to face you, he coolly leans against the railings of the small, wooden ferry. But the piercing sound of creaking wood jolts him back up almost immediately.

"Yes." he hastily answers, turning around to check on the railing, pushing it back and forth, then squatting down and repeating the action.

A curt answer. What are you supposed to say to that? You can't even hum in agreement or find an opening to make small talk before you politely excuse yourself to take a seat inside.

The only sound filling the air now is the creaking of wood as he scrutinises the railing. You're not sure what he's checking for- it's just a loose railing, but you admire the dedication nonetheless. A minute passes.

An alternative course of action is to simply walk towards the seating area without saying anything else. But he's blocking the entrance. Taking a step forward, you shift closer to gauge how much space you have to move through it.

Nope. No way to pass through at all. His large build completely obstructs the entrance. There's no way to pass without saying anything, and you're not sure what you can say that isn't awkward.

"Uh, excuse me. I'm just going to pass- yeah, oh- you don't need to stand, just- sorry."

Yeah, say that, and proceed to simmer in uncomfortable silence with him in the seating area for the next hour and a half.

"...You're also heading back to the village?" there's another creak of wood as he shifts it from left to right now.

"Ah! Yes," you reply, eager to stave off the growing awkwardness. "I, uh, live there."

He stiffens at your answer and brushes a hand over his face. You see his shoulders slacken as he sighs.

Did...you say something wrong?

If you did, he doesn't comment on it. Finally standing up, he's turning around and-

"I'm just going to head in first!" you blurt out, taking the opportunity to rush past him into the seating area.

But of course, just as you finally get into the seating area, the ship suddenly rocks, throwing you off balance and onto the hard floor.

Al Haitham's face is on fire. It must be because of the new soap he used this morning. Kaveh had pestered him for money to buy that brand, and he had finally caved. Yes, this is all Kaveh's fault.

No, he is not blushing. Why would he be? He isn't ill or feverish. Neither is he embarrassed.

It's just the soap. A mild allergic reaction, perhaps. But he isn't allergic to anything. Perhaps he should book an appointment at Bimarstan to confirm that. Allergies are dangerous.

Why can't he turn around?

There's a loud, rhythmic pulsing in his ear, which strangely is in phase with the beating of his heart. Is that his heartbeat he's hearing? Why is it so loud? And so fast? Also, why is his heart beating so hard?

He knows the answer. He just doesn't want to admit it.

Al Haitham is not embarrassed. Why should he be? It matters not what she thinks of him. She isn't causing him any trouble. She isn't someone he needs to work with. If anything, she is just another person now. She doesn't affect him or his life. To think about her is meaningless. It serves no purpose.

He doesn't care about her. She means nothing. She's just another stranger.

Oh, so this is about her, Kaveh's voice rings in his head. You're too embarrassed to face her!

Great. Now imaginary Kaveh is here. But, thankfully, logic is Kaveh's worst enemy.

And Al Haitham has a lot of logic.

Ok then, Kaveh, Al Haitham shifts the railing with more vigour. Let's say I am embarrassed.

You are!

Then what would I be embarrassed about?

Well, about the whole fainting incident! You made a fool of yourself right in front of a total stranger!

So? I'm only a human being. My body has limits that I'm not ashamed of.

You know that's not what I'm talking about.

Oh? Whatever do you mean?

About the whole crying and-

Nope. Al Haitham immediately cuts his internal debate with imaginary Kaveh short. He is not going to think about that now. But of course, you can never stop racing thoughts. Particularly ones provided by imaginary Kaveh.

Don't wanna think about it?

I've already gone through that with myself yesterday.

And what did you find out? That you-

That it was simply tears of relief, Al Haitham lies. In regards to getting good food and rest. A natural human response.

Ha! Yeah right-

Imaginary Kaveh is interrupted once again by the sound of shifting behind Al Haitham. It must be her. Waiting for him to say something back.

Well? Turn around and talk to her!

Why should I?

Unbelievable! Not even going to thank her for helping you?

He knows he should. He wants to. But his voice isn't working. Plus, he can't even turn to face her.

I wonder why.

It's because I'm inspecting the railing. Boats in Sumeru must pass the Sumeru Maritime Port Authorities' safety check, and one of the basic-

It's just a loose railing, and you know it! You're fiddling with it as an excuse to not-

More shifting behind him. What is she trying to do? A quick glance to his left tells him the answer.

Hey, you idiot fungus. You're blocking the entrance to the seating area!

Shit, Kaveh is right. Imaginary Kaveh, that is.

Stand up and move!

Wait. But wouldn't it be weird to just stand up and move? Without saying anything else? That would imply that Al Haitham was paying attention to her but not speaking back. Wouldn't that be strange? Rude, even?

Oh, worrying about weirding her out? And since when have you ever cared about niceties?

Shit, imaginary Kaveh is right. Again. This isn't like him. At all.

Ugh! If you're not going to move, at least say something! You're making her feel uncomfortable!

Say what?! Why don't you suggest something helpful for once?

I don't know? It's your conversation! Not mine! Just ask something! Anything! Before this whole situation becomes too awkward beyond repair!

In a haste, much to imaginary Kaveh and Al Haitham's absolute horror, Al Haitham's mouth decides to go off on its own and ask the most stupid, brain-dead question.

"...You're also heading back to the village?"

Oh, Archons.

Al Haitham shifts the railing from left to right. Maybe if he does that enough, by some scientific principle that he has not come across yet, it'll be like a lever, and time would rewind and-

When I said to ask anything, I meant something like "Slept well last night?" or "Were the toiletries I bought for you sufficient?" not whatever you just asked.

"Ah! Yes," she replies. "I, uh, live there."

Great. Now she thinks you're an idiot, you idiot.

What kind of question is that? The answer is obvious. So obvious, that Al Haitham feels the need to redeem himself. A prickling sensation on his face spreads from his cheeks all the way up to the tips of his ears, and Al Haitham uses a hand to try to rub it away.

Archons, even asking what her name is would have been a better question than that!

Enough yapping! How can I fix this?

Al Haitham can't believe he's asking Kaveh, even if in imaginary form, for help. But desperate times call for desperate measures. And Kaveh-like problems require Kaveh-like solutions.

Well, start off by actually turning around to talk to her! Even imaginary Kaveh is surprised by his request for advice. Ask her what her name is! That sounds like a good way to kick-start a less awkward conversation. And save this whole interaction.

But I don't want a conversation. I-

Do you want her to feel even more uncomfortable than she probably already is?

With a deep sigh, Al Haitham tries to compose himself. Willing away the heat in his face, he stands back up. His knees ache a little, but he ignores the pain as he turns to face her but-

"I'm just going to head in first!"

And there she goes, bolting towards the now unobstructed entrance, leaving Al Haitham alone on the deck, momentarily stunned by her sudden departure.

She's barely two steps into the seating area when the ship rocks. Al Haitham catches his balance with practised elegance, but unfortunately, the same could not be said for her.

With a loud thud, she crashes into the ground as the boat begins to turn.

"Are you alright?" all earlier thoughts disappear from Al Haitham's mind as worry fills the gaps. Rushing over, he kneels at her side, watching her as she turns around with a hiss.

"It's fine." she winces, turning over before extending both legs.

"Your left ankle is starting to swell," Al Haitham mutters, comparing the size of her ankles through the straps of her sandals. "A sprained ankle."

"Well," She shifts to sit upwards. Leaning over, she takes a closer look at her ankle. "It doesn't look as bad as it feels."

"It may soon if we don't take care of it," Al Haitham shifts closer to her ankle. "May I?"

When she nods, he gently removes her footwear. Looking around the seating area, he frowns as he realises the absence of a first aid kit. That means no cold compresses or bandages.

"We'll have to elevate it," Al Haitham mutters. "Let's move closer to the benches."

"Ah, ok," she kicks her right leg inwards she pushes her weight onto it as she tries to stand. "Well-"

The boat wobbles, and she nearly falls again. , Al Haitham catches hold of her arm, steadying her.

"That isn't going to work," Al Haitham states before she could thank him. "Sit back down."

She does so, giving him a questioning look. Gently moving her legs so that her knees are outstretched and bent, he hooks an arm under her knee and uses the other to support her back as he stands.

"Woah!" her arms begin to flail.

"Calm down," Al Haitham moves his face away from a hand that nearly hits him. "Just- put that arm here."

"Where?"

"Shoulder," he huffs as he bounces her to secure his hold around her. "Hold on."

The boat rocks, but the Acting Grand Sage doesn't seem worried about falling. In fact, he walks on as if he's on flat ground. All while carrying you.

He gently places you down on the floor next to the nearest metal bench before kneeling next to you again.

"I'm just going to put your leg up here," he assists your ankle up on the bench. "Leave your ankle like this."

"Thank you," you murmur. "I'm sorry for the trouble."

He sighs, heading back towards the entrance to retrieve your sandals. You can't look at him as he walks back to you.

This is so embarrassing.

It was bad enough that things were already so awkward. Oh, Archons. You've already made a faux pas earlier at the deck. Now with this? He must be furious.

Then, in a move that proceeded to stun you- and honestly scare you a little he sits down.

On the floor.

All the benches around, and he chooses to sit on the floor with you.

"No need to thank me." the Acting Grand Sage releases another sigh as he relaxes his shoulders, leaning on the side of the bench beside yours.

He then pulls out a book from somewhere behind his cape and begins to read.

"Would you…prefer to sit on the bench? I'm sure it's much more comfortable there."

"It's a metal bench. It'll feel just as hard as the floor."

Again, another curt response.

Biting your lip in shame, you feel a heat roll up your cheek.

"Acting Grand Sage, I just want to apologise for-"

"Al Haitham."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"My name," he shuts his book, turning his head to face you now. "It's less of a mouthful compared to that. And you are?"

Name. Yes. You can give that.

You tell him your name, trying your hardest to keep your voice as stable as possible. You really don't want to embarrass yourself further.

He repeats your name with an almost contemplative tone. He said it softly, compared to the surrounding noises of the ship. But it's the only sound that fills your ears.

"You have nothing to apologise for," the Acting Grand Sage- no, Al Haitham says. With yet another sigh, he continues. "It's actually me who has to apologise."

"What do you mean?" you frown. You don't recall him doing anything wrong.

"I," he pauses, placing his book aside as his hand rubs against the back of his neck. "I'm sorry if I've made you feel uncomfortable."

He shifts slightly, fidgeting with the ends of his cape.

"I also have to apologise for getting you into this mess," he goes on. "And for not thanking you for helping me back then."

"There's no need to thank me for that!" you answer. "And there's no need to apologise as well. Everyone has been kind to me. This was all a misunderstanding."

And just like that, the awkwardness is gone. Instead, a soothing silence envelopes the space between the two of you. You finally get the courage to glance at him, and now that you're relaxed, you notice something a little strange about his attire.

He isn't wearing anything different than yesterday. But the cape-

His cape!

"I passed your cape to Cyno when I got to the hostel," you say, voice laced with worry. "Did you get it?"

That cape looked expensive. But more importantly, you don't think you'd be able to show your face to anyone ever again if you lost the Acting Grand Sage's cape.

"I did," you let out a sigh of relief. "Cyno passed it to me yesterday."

"Did you work through the night?" you ask.

"Yes. I managed to finish everything by dawn, so I went back home to rest before heading out again."

"At dawn? So you did work through the night then!" you huff. "You have to take care of yourself! If not, you'll pass out again."

"I was well rested after I fell asleep at your place."

"You did not fall asleep. You passed out!"

"Well, it was rest either way."

"Then, did you at least eat the wrap we gave you?"

He stills. Suddenly, the chatty vibe between the two of you had disappeared.

"I," he breaks the stillness. "I ate a little bit of it. On the way back to the Akademiya."

He looks a little guilty, but you let it go.

"I'll take your word for it."

Another silence fills the air. You wiggle the toes on your left foot. It aches, but not as much as before, thankfully. But it'll still be a pain to deal with on the walk back home.

"Did you rest well last night?" he asks, breaking the silence again.

"I did," you recall, thinking about that room you were given. "Do all Akademiya students live in rooms like that? Everything was provided!"

You had thought a student hostel would have only the bare essentials, like a bed, wardrobe and a desk. But in the room you were led to, everything you could have possibly needed was there. Soaps, room slippers, sanitary pads and tampons, and even snacks!

"…Yes," he stretches his neck. "I'm glad you got a good night's rest."

"You should get one too, you know?" you say, turning to face him. "Your friends are worried about you."

And they really are. To the rest of Sumeru, he may just be a temporary authority figure. But to Kaveh, he's his housemate and closest friend. And to Cyno, he's his rival and fellow comrade.

"I know they are," he shares. "But we all have jobs to do."

He looks up, out of the window, far out into the blue sky. It's a sunny day today.

"We should be back at the village in about an hour's time."

"Well, why don't you go get some rest then? I'll wake you when we arrive."

"Thank you." He gives your ankle one last look, making sure nothing got worse. Leaning his head back onto the side of the metal bench, he closes his eyes.

You pray to the Dendro Archon to make his dreams sweet as you watch sleep take him away.

"Did you get it?"

"I think so?"

"Oh, it's blurry! Let me try!"

"Kaveh, wait! Don't lean on that or-"

For an architect, Kaveh is surprisingly terrible at guessing the relative structural integrity of objects. This is why the boxes Kaveh thought were stable (and then proceeded to lean on) come falling down, much to Cyno's dismay.

Naturally, the shopkeeper was furious about Kaveh destroying a whole batch of new wares. Kaveh had racked up quite the bill (which Cyno feels will end up being paid for by Al Haitham), but-

"But it's all worth it. Look!" he gloats, showing Cyno the printed picture.

"Well, would you look at that? Told you this was a good idea!" Kaveh continues.

Well, Archons be damned.

Cyno isn't one who would usually follow Kaveh's pranks or ploys. But if it's going to keep producing results like this, he may consider calling Tighnari to join in on the fun.

"Told you I would be able to get them on the same boat," Cyno smirks, handing the photo back to Kaveh for safekeeping. "What now?"

"Now, we wait," Kaveh takes one last look at the photo, admiring their handiwork before shutting it together with the kamera inside his briefcase. "And when he comes back, oh, it will be fun."

Little did these two know what they have started.

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