#-requires precision and I’m sure most of you don’t know just how much of your daily life is precision tasks

[itsnesss]

Hello! May I request reader being a ballerina and Kwon is smitten? Thank you so much 😙🙏

𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭 | kwon jae-sung × fem!reader

summary | you challenge kwon to learn ballet, and as you guide him through the moves, the tension between you both builds

warnings | fluff, romantic, tension, flirting, competitive

word count | 1.6 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

The echo of classical music fills the rehearsal room as you glide your feet precisely over the wooden floor. Each movement is calculated, each turn a work of art. Ballet is not just a passion; it’s your life, your discipline, your refuge.

You don’t notice his presence until the melody fades, and silence envelops you.

“I didn’t know you did this,” his deep, confident voice resonates in the room. You turn abruptly and find him leaning in the doorway, arms crossed, his posture relaxed but with that intense look in his eyes.

Kwon, one of Cobra Kai’s most feared fighters. His style is aggressive, merciless, and yet, here he is, watching you as if he’s never seen something so impressive in his life.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, trying to hide your surprise.

“I was passing by the hallway and heard the music,” he responds without taking his eyes off you. “I didn’t imagine you… danced ballet.”

“And I didn’t imagine you cared.”

He raises an eyebrow, amused.

“I don’t usually waste my time on nonsense. But this… this is different.”

You cross your arms.

“Different how?”

He shrugs.

“You’re good. Really good. It’s… impressive.”

You didn’t expect that kind of compliment from him. Kwon’s not the type to hand out praise.

“If you like it so much, do you want to try it?”

He lets out a low chuckle.

“No, thanks. I prefer real fights.”

“Oh, sure. Because ballet isn’t demanding or doesn’t require strength or control.”

His expression changes slightly. You know you’ve touched his pride.

“Are you saying ballet is harder than karate?”

“I’m saying it requires more discipline than you think.”

The defiant glint in his eyes is unmistakable.

“Prove it to me.”

A smile forms on your lips.

“Alright, Cobra Kai. Let’s see if you can keep up.”

You approach and take his hand, positioning him in the correct posture. His muscles tense under your touch, but he doesn’t pull away.

“First, balance,” you say. “Relevé.”

You show him how to rise onto the tips of his toes. Kwon tries to imitate you but barely manages to stay up for a few seconds before he stumbles.

“Damn…” he mutters, frowning.

You laugh.

“Giving up that quickly? I thought Cobra Kai never dies.”

His gaze sharpens.

“I don’t give up.”

He tries again, this time staying up a bit longer. You feel his determination in every fiber of his being, and for a moment, you’re surprised at how much he wants to impress you.

“Not bad,” you admit, still holding his arm. “Now, try a spin.”

“You want me to do pirouettes?”

“Come on, Jae-Sung. Just one try.”

He sighs but follows your instructions. He spins awkwardly, almost losing his balance. Instinctively, you grab him before he falls, and in that instant, the closeness between you two becomes evident.

His breath is heavy, his dark eyes fixed on yours.

“This is harder than I thought,” he murmurs.

“Told you.”

His hand remains on your waist, and the heat radiating from his skin sends a shiver down your spine. There’s something different in his expression. Something you didn’t expect.

“You’re incredible.”

His voice is low, almost like a secret. And before you can respond, his gaze falls to your lips, and suddenly, ballet isn’t the only thing that has him captivated.

His gaze, intense and dark, stays locked on yours, and for the first time, there’s no arrogance in his expression. Just something raw, something genuine.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you whisper, feeling your heart race.

“I don’t know,” he replies softly, but the way his eyes briefly flick to your lips says otherwise.

You feel like you should pull away, break the tension, make some sarcastic remark to ease the awkwardness of the moment. But you don’t. Because deep down, a part of you is enjoying this.

“Still want to learn ballet?” you ask, trying to steer the conversation back to safer ground.

“No.”

“No?”

“I’m not interested in ballet,” he says, and his tone makes your stomach do a flip. “I’m interested in you.”

The impact of his words hits you with the same force as a well-executed kick on the tatami.

“W-what?” you stammer, blinking in disbelief.

He offers a slight smile, that typical half-smirk of Kwon Jae-Sung that appears when he knows he has the upper hand.

“Don’t act surprised. I’ve liked you for a while.”

Your brain momentarily shuts down. Since when? How did you not notice?

“You’re joking…” you murmur, but your voice sounds more like a plea than a statement.

“Do I look like someone who jokes about this?”

No, he doesn’t.

Kwon Jae-Sung never does anything without intention, and if there’s one thing he’s proven in all the fights he’s won, it’s that he never enters a battle without being sure of his victory.

And now? Now his gaze tells you he’s completely sure of how he feels.

You take a step back, trying to put some distance between you, but he doesn’t let go.

“Kwon…”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he interrupts, his tone softer than ever. “Just tell me if I have a chance.”

The question hangs in the air.

You look at his face, the sharp features, the dark, deep eyes, the way his jaw tightens with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness. You never thought you’d see Kwon like this, as someone vulnerable.

And then, without thinking too much about it, you take his hand and intertwine your fingers with his.

“Maybe.”

His expression changes. First, surprise. Then, satisfaction.

“Maybe, huh?”

“If you can do a decent pirouette… maybe more than that.”

Kwon lets out a laugh, and for the first time tonight, you see his full smile. It’s sincere, without arrogance or mockery.

“That sounds like a challenge.”

“It is."

“Alright.”

Kwon isn’t someone who accepts defeat easily. If he were, he wouldn’t be where he is, wouldn’t be one of the most lethal fighters. But this time, his fight isn’t on a tatami, it’s in a dance studio, and instead of punches and kicks, he’s fighting against balance and the precision of a spin.

And against his own heart, because, to be honest, he’s never felt this out of control as when he’s with you.

You step back, crossing your arms as you watch him prepare. His posture is stiff, clearly more used to being firm and on guard than to the fluidity of movement.

“Relax,” you advise with a playful smile. “This isn’t a fight, Jae-Sung.”

“For me, everything’s a fight.”

He says it with his usual confident tone, but this time, there’s something more. Something deeper.

You take a deep breath and approach him again, gently resting your hands on his shoulders. You feel the tension in his body, the way he stiffens under your touch. But he doesn’t pull away.

“You don’t need brute strength here,” you whisper. “Just let go.”

Your hands slide down his arms and then to his hands, guiding him into the correct posture. Kwon stays silent, his eyes locked on you, his breathing slightly heavier than usual.

“Like this?” he asks, his voice quieter than usual.

You nod.

“Now spin.”

He tries it. And, for his first real attempt, it’s not that bad. Although, of course, his spin ends up being a bit rougher than it should be, his balance still not quite there.

“Damn…” he murmurs, frowning as he steadies himself.

You can’t help but let out a laugh.

“That’s not exactly the attitude of a champion, Kwon.”

He shoots you a sharp look, but there’s something playful in it.

“Give me a week, and I’ll be better than you.”

“Oh, sure. Like that’s possible."

“Don’t doubt it. I don’t lose.”

He says it with that confidence that makes him so Kwon. But what you don’t expect is what happens next.

Suddenly, without warning, he grabs your wrist and pulls you towards him. Not roughly, but with enough firmness that you end up pressed against his chest.

Your breath stops.

“What… what are you doing?” you murmur, all too aware of the heat of his skin even through the fabric of his shirt.

“If I can’t do it alone… then teach me like this.”

And before you can protest, his hands rest on your waist. His fingers are firm, but gentle, as if he still can’t believe he’s really touching you.

“Let’s spin together.”

Your heart beats fast, but you manage to keep your composure.

“Alright… but if you step on my toes, I swear I’ll put you in a hold.”

He smiles.

“I accept the risk.”

And then, you spin.

This time, there’s no awkwardness in him. No roughness. It’s just him following you, letting himself be guided, trusting you. And for a brief moment, it’s as if everything disappears. There’s no karate, no ballet, no rivalry. Just the two of you.

When the spin ends, you both stand still, still too close.

“That… was better,” Kwon murmurs, but his voice sounds distracted.

Maybe because his eyes are on your lips again.

And this time, he doesn’t try to hide it.

You don’t have time to process it before he closes the distance between you two.

It’s a firm, sure kiss, but at the same time, restrained. As if he’s measuring the intensity, as if he’s waiting for you to stop him. But you don’t.

Because, against all logic, against all the differences between you, against all odds…

You want this too.

And when your hands slide up his chest and entangle in his neck, when you respond to his kiss with the same intensity, Kwon smiles against your lips.

Because this time, he knows the victory is his.

[lincolndjarin]

Best Kept Secret

chapter twenty six : crucifixion

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 12.7k

summary : judgement day.

warnings: major character death, above canon typical violence, very brief references to suicide, torture, body horror (briefly), feelings of despair, blood, wounds, general kodo grossness, vomit (reader vomits several times, it is never described in detail), language, angst, brief smut, pregnancy, death, reader is not doing well in this like she's at a breaking point, i may have missed some so feel free to let me know.

a/n: please read the warnings on this chap! it's the most serious of the bks updates, definitely a bit more intense than the rest. gonna work on getting 27 out within the next few day. i've been terrified of releasing this chapter since i started writing it so once i post this i'm going to dig a hole and sit in it and hide for a while lmao.

i changed my editing style so if there's spelling errors lmk!! apologies in advance!!

“My room is too big.” 

He bursts into genuine peals of laughter and you gently smack his arm.

“Don’t laugh, it’s a serious issue! My room is enormous.” You’re giggling along with him now, it’s the hardest you’ve ever heard him laugh. You both just laugh for a few minutes, as if each other's company is the most amusing thing in the world. 

Once your giggles fizzle out you wait another moment before breaking the silence. 

“Where did you grow up?” You can’t see him but you can sense where he sits in the darkness, you crawl forward so you’re sitting between his legs, your own legs wrap around his waist. “I’m just curious.” 

“Aq Vetina.” You can’t recall anything about the planet. You aren’t even sure you’ve heard of it. 

“Do you remember your parents well? You don’t talk about them very much.” You put your hands on his shoulders, ever so slowly moving them up to his neck until you’re cupping his face. 

“I’ll never forget them.” He whispers. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. We can’t change the past.” You rub your nose against his, bumping them together as you hum and nod. “My mother loved ships. We didn’t travel, we never had a reason to, but she would take me outside and we’d watch ships fly past. I could never comprehend how she knew the name for all of them, it blew my mind.” You wrap your arms around his neck, staying silent in hopes that he’ll continue, he so rarely speaks so much. “My father worked a lot but he always made time for us, he was always home in time to say goodnight to me. He was always around when I needed him, he always provided for us. On his day off he’d spend the whole day cooking, I’d sit on the kitchen counter and tell him what my mother and I had done that week. When she’d come home we’d all eat dinner together.” 

“You sound like you were a happy child.” You can’t help but smile. 

“I never had reason to be otherwise.” He says it so matter of factly that you don’t doubt it for a second. He was loved. It only makes you smile wider.         

“What were you like, as a child?”

“Well behaved.” You immediately begin laughing once more. 

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Believe it. My mother homeschooled me, she always made sure I had manners. I wasn’t particularly athletic or talkative so I didn’t play with other kids a lot. It was just me and mama.” He sounds far away, it makes you want to hold him close and never let him go.

“So what did you do all day?” Your tone has softened significantly. 

“I would sew.” 

“Be serious.” He’s the one who laughs now at the disbelief in your voice.

“I am! I would sit with my mother after my lessons and we’d sew.” His fingertips dance along the back of your neck as he reminisces. 

“What kinds of things?” You don’t tease. When you really think about it you suppose such a hobby is fitting for him. A task that requires precision and care. 

“I would help her make clothes and blankets that she would sell most days. On the weekends she’d let me do whatever I wanted so I would practice my embroidery.” 

“My heart is actually about to explode out of my chest, you’re so cute.” You put on a mocking tone but the thought of such a thing really does make your heart clench. “Little Din Djarin stitching his name into his clothes.”

“You’re a cruel woman.” He leans forward, knocking his forehead against yours, almost as if he were reprimanding you. 

“What sorts of things would you embroider?” Your tone goes back to genuine, you could listen to him talk about himself for days and you’d never get bored. 

“Whatever my mother wanted. I would ask her what I should do and then I’d stitch it onto her blanket or the hem of her skirt. Mostly flowers, she loved daisies.” You’re pretty sure one of your ovaries literally popped at the thought of a little boy with dark curls and big brown eyes sitting beside his mother and embroidering a daisy onto her skirt. Your heart flutters a bit as you think of the necklace he got you. The silver outline of a flower you now realize is a daisy. “If he was ever gone for more than one night for work my father would bring her daisies, one for each day he was away.”

“Do you still know how?”

“I used to fix Grogu’s clothes when he ripped them but I haven’t done much else since I was a boy. He says it with finality but you carry on, not wanting him to stop talking. 

“What were their names? Your parents?”

“Clara and Arin Djarin.”  

“Those are pretty names.”

“What was it like for you? You said you had seven siblings right?”

“Eight actually.” You think of them now. There were eight of you and your parents' love for all of you combined wasn’t even a tenth of how much Din’s parents loved him. 

“Do you like having a big family?” He lifts you off of his lap, laying you back down as he crawls on top of you, laying against your chest. 

“I love it. I miss my siblings everyday, do you think we’ll be able to visit them someday?”

“If it’s safe to, of course we will.” He tilts his head, if you weren’t in darkness he’d be looking at you. 

“I wish they had visited here. They would have loved you.”

“You think?”

“Are you kidding me? The younger ones would adore you.” You tangle your finger in his hair, scratching his scalp. “Kids just naturally like you.” 

“They just haven’t learned to fear me.” You frown when he says it like a fact.

“I think it’s more than that.”

“Yeah?” The hopeful tilt to his voice has you leaning down to press a kiss into his hair. 

“Kids are intuitive, they can sense that you’re a good person.” He tenses up as you tell him he’s a good person. You know exactly what he’s thinking about now, how he punched your husband and then refused to leave. 

Neither one of you wants to talk about that though, not today. 

“What kind of room would you want? Since your current room isn’t to your liking.” He’s quick to change the subject and you let him.

“In all honesty, I like the cabin, I wish we could just live there.” You run your fingers through his curls as you think about it, gently pulling through any tangles.

“My cabin?” His voice is full of uncertainty as he pulls back a bit.

“It’s nice.” You feel a bit defensive, you consider the cabin to be the closest thing you have to a home. “Can you imagine getting to stay on Naboo? We could spend our mornings walking the market.” You rest your hand on the back of his neck now. “We could get jobs in the city, and then at night we’d come home.” 

“To the cabin?” He still sounds rather skeptical of your hypothetical future. 

“I’d cook dinner, you’d do the chores.”

“The cabin’s a bit small for us.” 

“We’d make it a bit bigger, add a few bedrooms, we don’t need that much space.” 

“A few?” He turns his head, his lips brush against your collar briefly as he kisses you there, freezing up when you speak again. 

“At least two, one for us and then some for any little Djarin’s who might need space.” With that he sits up entirely, his legs straddle your stomach.

“Little Djarin’s?”

“And Grogu, he would come live with us as well.” 

“You’d want him to live with us?”

“Of course, he’s a little Djarin.” Your hands rest on his thighs now as he seemingly ponders above you. He hums to himself in silence for a moment and you can’t help but grin at how seriously he’s taking all of this. 

“How many?” He finally speaks again and you laugh at the bluntness of his question. 

“Kids?”

“How many would you want?”

“You go first.” You haven’t ever talked about this sort of thing so you want to gauge his answer first so you don’t scare him too much with all the kids talk. 

“Maybe five? Or six.”

“Six?” Your voice pitches up immediately and you feel a rumble in his chest as he laughs. 

“Or five.”

“How about two, counting Grogu.” Turns out you didn’t need to worry about scaring him off. 

“How about three?” Three is manageable. 

“Counting Grogu?” 

“Counting Grogu.” He seems satisfied with that. 

“I suppose we could have three, you’re the one who has to build all the extra bedrooms.” 

“I don’t mind.”

“I’d work at the library and you’d work in a shipyard, we’d take turns staying home with the kids.” You pull him back to you, taking his hands and dragging him to lay his head on your chest once more.

“I’ve got enough savings, neither one of us has to work if you’d like.” It sends a twinge of pain to your heart how real this conversation has become, knowing that this exact dream isn’t possible. 

You could always make parts of it real.

Someday. 

“I’d want to work, to get out of the house, but you could stay home if you’d like.”

“When they’re still ik’aad, at least for the first few years I’d want to be with them.” He’s going to be a wonderful father. 

“Then I’d work, not long hours, just enough to get me out of the house, when I come home I’d give you a break, you could do the shopping and I’d watch the little’s.” 

“We’d go as a family, I wouldn’t want ‘a break.’” 

“You’d want to wrangle three kids in the markets?” You scoff in disbelief but he continues to sound completely serious. 

“They’d be well behaved.” You seriously doubt that. 

“What about either one of us makes you think our children will be well behaved? Is Grogu well behaved?” 

“We’ll manage.”

“They’ll be wild.” They will, not they would. 

“And smart.” He sits up again, hovering above you to give you a quick kiss. 

“And happy.” There isn’t a doubt in your mind that your children would be happy with Din as their father. 

“You’d really want to live here? I could build us a house anywhere.”

“I like Naboo, at least everything outside of the castle. I don’t even mind the castle, I just don’t care for the people inside it.” It’s true, somewhere along the way this place grew on you immensely. You love the city and the people in it. “And they’d get to play in the garden.” 

“I would build you a cabin anywhere you wanted, and I’d plant you a new garden.” He kisses along your cheeks and forehead as he speaks. 

“You wouldn’t need to plant me a garden if we lived here.” You insist. 

“We can’t live here, mesh’la.” He rubs a small circle with his thumb against your cheek. “This is too serious now, we’re supposed to be relaxed today.”

“When did we agree on that?” You muster up a weak laugh. 

“It was a silent mutual agreement.”

“I’m plenty relaxed.” You mumble. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his stubble tickling you as you let out an airy giggle. 

“I’m actually very tense and I think we should take a break from all this talking and take care of that.” He mumbles against your shoulder.

“Oh?”

“Mhmm.” He emphasizes his point by pressing his erection against your hip, you hadn’t even realized that this is where he was going with that. 

“How long have you been waiting to jump me?”

“When we started talking about the five kids I was gonna put in you.” He continues to nip at your neck and shoulders as he speaks. 

“Skipping the agreed upon three and going straight to five already? You’re not even going to attempt to negotiate for four?” 

“So you’re open to four?” He pulls back and you can hear his smile. 

“Let’s start with one and go from there.”

“Right now?” His hips stutter down a bit against yours. 

“Maker, you’re insatiable.” You both burst into another fit of laughter. 

“What’s the worst thing that could happen?”

“I could get pregnant, and considering the lack of sex I’ve had with my husband I’m sure that might raise a few eyebrows.” 

“It would never get to that point, when we’re in the clear with this whole Kodo mess I’m getting you out of here.”

“Like… actually leaving Naboo?” 

“Exactly like that. I’m gonna take you far away from here when this is over, gonna keep you all for myself.” His hands move down, giving your hips a squeeze. 

“I’m already yours.” You laughed, rolling over to be on top of him. He’s right, if you’re going to leave anyway then what’s the worst thing that could happen? 

You never talked about that night after that. 

When everything sorted itself out you realized how crazy your fear had made you. You couldn’t just leave. At least that’s what you’d told yourself, now you feel like an idiot for not holding him to his words. It wasn’t realistic, you both knew actually leaving would take so much more preparation than a few whispered ideas during a time where neither one of you was in any position to be making such promises. 

It was just talk.

Lysa came to get you from the dining room. 

After everyone left you had no motivation to move, you just stood there, frozen in time. After a few hours she found you, she had taken your hand and walked you back to your chambers. She held your hand, she kept you upright when you threatened to crumble. And when you felt a wave of nausea ripple through you she rushed you to the fresher, a hand on your back as you threw up all over again. 

You sat breathlessly on the tile, Lysa rubbing your back.

“Gods, I’ve been nauseous since the wedding. Even before everything fell apart.” It’s the first words you’ve spoken since they took Din, your stomach is still churning. “This has never happened before.” You groan, you’ve had many moments of upset throughout your life, but none that made you physically ill. Lysa looks almost painfully worried. 

“Ma’am… is there a chance you might be…” 

Kriff.

You never talked about that night after that. 

Maybe you should have. 

You both did a lot of things during those days. You had been so angry, and he had done everything in his power to ease that anger, to keep both of you as happy as someone could be in your situation. 

You shouldn’t have used that as an excuse to be reckless. 

“I’d like to go to bed.” 

“Of course.” She helps you to your feet, walking you back to your room, you turn to her one last time before you close the door. 

“I’m sorry. Elaine never should have gotten involved in all this.” You’d trade places with her in a heartbeat if you could. 

“It’s not your fault.” She truly seems to believe that. 

Except it is. Elaine never would have found herself in this situation if she hadn’t so often been helping the two of you keep your secret. 

“Goodnight, Lysa.” 

“Goodnight, princess.” 

You lay on the bed, unable to bring yourself to sleep in the closet. 

It’s cold. Colder than Hoth, as you stare at the ceiling in your far too big bed in your far too big room. Even bigger now that it’s just you. 

You let your hand roam down your torso to rest on your stomach.

Just you, hopefully. 

☆

You’re now having nightly dinners with Kodo. 

You don’t get any respite from him, you just want to stay in bed. You’re nauseous and tired and your head hasn’t stopped spinning since that night. A million thoughts a minute. 

Where is he?

Is he okay?

What the fuck can I do about it?

Mostly that. 

The worst part is your lack of a plan. If the roles were reversed Din would have already rescued you and you’d be living happily ever after. 

But that isn’t how your story is going. Instead you are alone, with no scheme on how to get to him. It’s only been three days but it’s driving you insane, you have never known such hopelessness, it’s maddening. To sit alone in your room all day, staring at the ceiling until Lysa comes to dress you for dinner. Neither one of you ever speaks, afterall, what would you say to each other?

“I’m sorry the love of your life had been sentenced to die?”

How morbid. 

Not that you’re above being morbid. 

You think about it often. How easy it would be to drive your dinner knife into Kodo’s throat. You’re seated beside him now at dinner, both of you at the head of the table, joined by the rest of his family. 

The thought of killing him is the only thing that brings you peace these days. You’ve never once in your life been violent until now. Din is good. He’s a good man. In every way he is the opposite of your husband yet Din is the one locked away, Maker knows where, while Kodo is being rewarded. 

It doesn’t make you mad, it makes you furious. 

It makes you want to poison his wine. 

But you don’t have poison. 

And you can’t put yourself in danger. Because you feel fundamentally different, and even if you refuse to think that such a thing is possible you know you wouldn’t just be putting yourself in danger. There’s more at stake now. 

That’s what you tell yourself to stay calm, a feat that is getting harder by the minute as you’re sat beside Kodo who is currently bragging about how he defeated a Mandalorian. 

“They aren’t as strong as you think they are. Under the armor they’re weak, pathetic.” 

It took six battle droids to keep him down. You didn’t even get near him. 

“Some people just need to be taught a lesson, don’t touch what isn’t yours.” He sneers and the rest of the table erupts into laughter. “I certainly taught that horned bitch a lesson as well, you all should have seen what they brought me last night.” 

You perk up, this is the only thing they’ve said in days that truly matters to you. You’ve heard nothing about the current state of either of them until now. 

“What did they do to Elaine?” Everyone’s head turns to you, all their expressions look as if you’ve announced something treasonous but Kodo smiles as if he were explaining something to a child. 

“She was properly punished, the way someone who observed such a crime with no intervention should be.” He puts his hand over yours when he says it. 

You don’t ask for any follow up. 

You don’t think you could stomach it, so you stay silent for the rest of your meal. When you’re finished you stand, the rest of the table is starting to pour more drinks but you simply lean down, mumbling something about being tired before giving Kodo a quick kiss on the cheek and dismissing yourself. 

You’re waiting for the night where he joins you in your chambers, after all his father is dead, but it has yet to happen. He had told you that once he was king he would be in need of heirs but he seems happy enough with his pleasure houses and you’re more than grateful for the women you entertain him so you don’t have to. 

So you return to your chambers alone, peeling off your gown before burying yourself under the covers. 

Sleep evades you as you toss and turn. You aren’t even tired, there’s too much going on in your mind, there’s no room for exhaustion. After about an hour you manage to drift in and out of unconsciousness, earning a brief reprieve from your anxieties until a sharp knocking has you jolting upright. 

You don your robe, rubbing sleep from your eyes as you rush to the door, you’re too tired to wonder who might even be bothering you at such an hour as you pull the door open. 

Lysa?

“We have to hurry, ma’am.” She grabs your arm, frantically tugging you into the hall. 

“Lysa? What are you doing? Are you okay?” 

“I am fine, but we don’t have much time.”

“Surely you have enough to tell me where we are going.” 

“Do you want to see him or not?” 

Din.

You nod, taking her hand as he rushes onward, stopping at each hall to peer around the corners until you make your way to a servants stairwell, skipping several steps in your descent until you run out of stairs. You’ve never been down here, you didn’t even know there were dungeons until recently. 

It makes your stomach twist in knots the moment you stare into the darkness. 

“Are there no guards?” You whisper, squeezing her hand.

“Not for the next hour, I’ve made sure of it.” She begins walking down the poorly lit corridor, pulling you along behind her. 

The stone floor is damp and it smells of mildew. Your bare feet are already freezing after just a few steps.

Every cell you pass is lit from the outside with a hanging lantern, they’re mostly empty, but you catch glimpses of movement out of the corner of your eye every now and then. In all honesty you’re doing your best to take in as little as possible, you don’t want to think about Din being down here in such a place, but there’s one element you can’t ignore. 

The wailing. 

Someone is weeping, a low, sorrowful song filling the vast maze of halls and you realize quickly you’re heading in its direction, Lysa tenses beside you as you continue on. You’re about to turn one more corner when she abruptly stops, turning to face you.

“He needs to eat.” She removes a fistful of rations from her apron pocket, shoving them into your hands. 

“He hasn’t?” He’s been down here for three days. 

“He won’t… let me.” You pause, cocking your head to the side and she gives you an apologetic look when she turns. “He won’t let me uncover his face.”

Oh. 

“I’ll feed him.” You nod slowly, tucking them into your own pockets before turning the corner. The contents of the cell immediately on your right have you stumbling backwards but Lysa is not swayed, pulling a key from her pocket, unlocking the door quickly before handing it to you. 

“He’s two cells down, on your right.” She doesn’t look at you as she rushes in, pulling a roll of bandages from her dress. “Shh… it’s okay, I’m here.” Her voice goes soft as she kneels beside Elaine. You can’t help it as you step into the entryway of the cell. 

Well, you’ve found the source of the wailing. 

She’s sat on a cot, curled in on herself as Lysa carefully peels back a series of soiled bandages from her face. 

“I’ve got you, it’s just me.” She continues to make an attempt to sooth a rather hysterical Elaine as she peels back the final layer of bandages and your stomach flips. “You’re okay, love, I need to change these.” You don’t know how Lysa is so calm, even in the darkness you can see the extent of her wounds. Now you know what they brought Kodo last night.  

Both eyes. 

“She was properly punished, the way someone who observed such a crime with no intervention should be.” 

Oh gods. 

You’re worried you may collapse as you watch Lysa tend to her with no hesitation, cleaning them with a careful hand before she begins to redress them. You can’t bear to watch any longer as Elaine begins sobbing once more. You try desperately to force the sight of your mutilated friend from your mind as you count down two more cells before quickly fumbling for the lock, letting it hit the floor as you take the lantern outside the door off its hook, bringing it into the dark room. 

It isn’t like Elaine’s cell. 

There’s no bed or interior light, it’s terribly dark and fetid, his cell running deeper than her’s. It takes a few steps for you to finally illuminate the room enough to see him. 

Maker. 

What have they done to your Din? 

You don’t hear Elaine anymore, there isn't a single thing that could distract you from the scene in front of you. There is nothing but the sight of your kar’ta. There’s too much for you to worry about, you don’t even know where to start, you’re frozen in place, a small part of your brain refuses to recognize the man before you as Din at all. He shouldn’t look like this. 

Armorless. 

They’ve stripped him of any clothing you recognize, the thought alone makes you nearly lose your dinner. 

They took his helmet, replacing it with a linen sack.  

Did they see his face?

You briefly have to shut your eyes, taking a deep breath as you take in the rest of him. His clothes are too thin, he must be freezing, they’ve dressed him in a cotton tunic and trousers that end just below the knee. You can see just how beaten and bruised he is. Unlike Elaine he’s in chains, kneeling on the floor with his hands shackled, taut above his head. You swallow the lump in your throat and finally crouch down in front of him, setting the lantern down beside you as you reach out to place a hand on his chest.

“Din…” Your voice cracks and the moment you come in contact with him he flinches back. Suddenly you know how Lysa held it together so well with Elaine, she just had to. You can’t fall apart, who would care for him now if you did? “It’s me, just me. Just me.” You whisper and place a hand over his heart but withdraw it quickly when he trembles under your touch. You ache at the sight of it but more than anything you’re confused, it only takes a moment for you to realize the issue. 

He doesn’t have his helmet. They’ve not only left him here blind, but deaf, of course any touch would frighten him. 

He assumes you're here to harm him. 

You lean in, careful not to come in contact with him as you speak clearly and loudly. 

“Din?” His trembling stops instantly. You find it a bit troublesome how much worse his hearing seems to have gotten in such a short time, you’re half tempted to reach under the bag to make sure he still has his ears. 

“Sarad?” Oh, Din. His voice is terribly small and it sends you forward, wrapping your arms around him as you pull him into an unreciprocated embrace. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” You make sure to speak loud enough for him before pulling back, placing your hands against the fabric covering his face. 

“Are you okay?” He coughs a bit as he asks and you almost laugh at how ridiculous the question is considering the state he’s in. Are you okay? 

Technically no. 

But far better than he’s doing. 

“I’m perfectly fine, what can I do for you? Are you hurting?” You feel his face through the bag as you look down across his body. It doesn’t look like there’s been any permanent damage outside of a pretty nasty cut on one of his legs. 

“Don’t worry about me.”

“Now’s not the time to play the hero, Din.” He flinches a little and you calm your tone immediately. What the hell did they do to him? “Just let me help.”

“How’d you get down here?” 

“Lysa, she says you aren’t eating.” 

“She’d have to lift my- the bag to do it.” He sounds apologetic, as if you could ever fault him for following his creed. 

“It’s okay… may I?” You bring your hands to the hem of the bag but his head turns sharply.

“I- I don’t want you to look.” 

You have no response. He’s always wanted you to look. 

“I just, I don’t think you wanna see the condition I’m in. I don’t want your only memories of my face to be this.” He whispers when you don’t respond.

You should have looked when he asked you to. You should have done a lot of things differently. 

You shouldn’t have waited so long to look. 

You shouldn't have waited so long to tell him you loved him. 

You should have just let yourself love him. Why did you fight it for so long? It seems silly now. If you could do it all again you would have just taken his helmet off the first night you met him and you would have married him right then and there. You would have left Naboo that night.

And you would never keep any of it from him. You would tell him how important he is and how loved he is, you wouldn’t make him wait. 

Even now you can’t help it though, censoring yourself out of fear. Do you tell him about how nauseous you get every morning? About the way Lysa stares at your belly when she does your makeup? 

No. 

It wouldn’t do either of you any good, not when he’s in this situation. 

You take hold of the edges of the bag once more, gentler this time. 

“I’ll close my eyes.” You lift the fabric completely off of him, setting it in your lap as you simultaneously shut your eyes. You keep one hand on his face, using your thumb to find the corner of his mouth as your other hand fumbles to open a ration bar. You feel him part his lips as you feed him. He’s barely chewing, eating quickly and swallowing most of it whole. “Have they fed you at all?” You whisper as he finishes the first bar in a matter of seconds, his teeth lightly scraping against your fingers before you withdraw them, tearing open another bar.

“No.” His voice is still soft as you go to feed him once more, opening each package until he’s eaten them all. 

“Are you still hungry? I could see if Lysa has more.” 

“I’m okay.” You let your head fall forward, resting your forehead on his. 

“What else can I do for you?” 

“Nothing. Being here is enough.” 

If you had felt helpless before it was nothing compared to this. This is more than helplessness, it’s despair. 

“I’m sorry.” You pull yourself further into his lap, wrapping your arms around him in the process. 

“Hey… none of this is your fault.” It certainly feels like it is. Why does he keep comforting you when he’s the one shivering and alone down here? 

“Please, there has to be something I can do to help you.” 

“There is one thing.” You almost open your eyes, you're so relieved, you just want to ease his pain. 

“Anything. I’ll do anything.” 

“I need you to promise me you won’t look.”

“Won’t look?” Your eyes are already closed, you couldn’t look any less if you tried. 

“When they do it. I don’t want you to see it- it won’t be pretty.”

When they separate his head from his body. 

“I won’t.” You can’t deny him this, you’ll give him anything he wants. “Do you know how much I love you?” You whisper before leaning forward another inch to kiss him. 

The question is genuine. It terrifies you to your core to think that he may not know just how much you love him. 

“Of course sarad.” He murmurs against your lips until you let your head rest on his shoulder, fighting back tears. 

What do you say now?

What do you say to a man condemned to death? 

“I love you.” You mumble into the thin fabric of his tunic. 

“I love you too.” After a moment more with him you hear metal jingling as Lysa locks Elaine's cell once more. You quickly pull back from him, pulling the bag back over his head, once you know he can’t see you anymore the tears flow freely. Lysa steps into the cell and you remove your robe, wrapping it around him, immediately he begins to protest. 

“Mesh’la, you can’t leave this here.” His voice is strained and it makes you sick to think he started crying once he was out of sight as well. 

“Please, y-you’re gonna freeze.”

“They’ll know you were here, sarad’ika.” 

“Din…” You’re practically babbling as Lysa removes your robe from his shoulders, an apologetic look on her face as she grabs your arm. 

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but we need to go.” Tears sting your eyes as Lysa urges you to hurry but you don’t want to leave him, you want to stay, no matter the consequence. You pull away from her, wrapping your arms around his torso. 

“You need to go.” His voice is urgent through the fabric as you cling to him tighter. 

Would it be easier to just stay? Get caught and join him at the executioners? You’re genuinely considering it when you feel your stomach churn once more and you’re reminded of the exact reason why you can’t stay. Before you lose your nerve and shatter completely you lift the bag, just enough to give you an eyeful of his split lip and bruised jaw as you gently lean in and kiss him one more time. 

Doing everything in your power to remember exactly what it feels like.

The curve of his lips and the shape of his chin, the overgrown stubble brushing against your skin as you press your face harder against his, desperation taking over as you taste salt on his lips. You hold him as long as you can, until you hear Lysa urging you to make haste once more. 

“I love you.” You press your forehead to his through the fabric, feeling the familiar shape of his face against yours. 

“I’ll always be yours.” 

That was the last thing he was able to say before you let Lysa drag you out of the dungeons. 

☆

It’s like everythings suddenly back to the beginning. 

You wake up alone, you go to bed alone, and you wander the castle alone.

There is no plotting or scheming to free Din. 

Even if you were a trained killer or bounty hunter, it would be more than difficult to get him out of the dungeon and on a ship off Naboo. It would be even harder to do so when you’re one of the most recognizable people on the planet. 

He is buried deep beneath the ground and there is nothing you can do about it. 

After all, you're just a doll. 

You don’t know when it happened but all your clothes are blue again. Every dress Lysa fetches from the closet is a different shade of blue and all your nightgowns are the color of the sky. A personal brand put on you by Kodo. It’s clearly more than just a preference now, it’s a reminder to you and everyone else that you’re his. 

And time blends. 

You know a date was set right around the time you visited him. One week until Kodo’s coronation and two until the execution. His first public event after being crowned king will be a death sentence, how fitting. 

So you wake. 

And you sleep. 

And you walk. 

Kodo never replaces Din and you haven’t seen Leo since that night, so you’re completely alone. It’s like he’s rubbing in the fact that you’re powerless. There’s no need for you to have a guard, you can’t leave. If you tried you’d be escorted back in an instant. 

You tried to convince Lysa to let you see him again last night. 

“Please, just a few minutes-“

“I’m sorry ma’am, it’s just not possible. The only reason I was able to get you down there the first time was because the guard that usually lets me in was working nights, he won’t be working nights again until next month.”

Din won’t live to see next month. 

“Is he eating?”

“He won’t let me-“

“You need to insist. Tell him I insist, and tell him you’ll close your eyes.” 

She pins back a bit of your hair, leaving half up and half down. You both bask in the silence for a moment.

“I’ll make sure he eats.”

“Thank you.”

That had been the last conversation you had with Lysa. 

She doesn’t come to dress you in the morning. You think nothing of it and dress yourself in the gown she’d laid out last night. It’s a bit difficult, putting your coronation gown on on your own but eventually you manage, when you’re fully dressed in the obscenely decadent blue fabric you begin to worry. 

You have no reason to assume that everything is fine. It would actually make sense for this to be a worst case scenario situation, everything else in your life is right now. 

You’re about to leave in search of her but you decide against it. Sitting at the vanity and doing your makeup as quickly as possible, the last thing you need to do right now is give Kodo a reason to be upset with you, you have to be presentable. You smear the shimmering blue eyeshadow across your lids before rushing out of your room. 

The halls are full. Servants move quickly from room to room, cleaning every inch as you carefully push through the crowds, making a beeline towards the dining room. 

Kodo is seething when you push open the large doors. 

He stands at the end of the table, shoving an armored guard as the veins in his neck jut out in his rage. 

“Where could she have possibly gone? She’s blind. You’re telling me some blind bitch outsmarted my entire guard?” 

Your heart flutters at the thought.

They escaped.

Your hope is shattered the moment Kodo begins speaking again.

“At least we still have the Mandalorian… I want security tripled, guards stationed outside his cell at all times.” He continues grumbling for a moment until he realizes you’re there. “Happy coronation day dear wife! I’m afraid we’ve had a rough morning here, somehow in the night the Togruta girl escaped, do not fret, we’ll find her.” 

God's you hope not.

Even if things are worse than ever regarding Din there is one flicker of light in that darkness. Lysa got Elaine out. Knowing that almost puts you at ease.

“Happy coronation day.” You actually manage a smile when you look at your husband, it’s weak but it’s genuine. You want to be mad that they didn’t help Din escape but you just can’t be. You know they most likely tried but if the roles had been reversed and you could only get one of them out you wouldn’t hesitate. 

So there is no animosity. Just a flicker of happiness for them.

They got out.

☆

You were under the impression that a coronation was a happy event. Yet when you step out onto the castle steps it seems to be quite the opposite. 

They look miserable. 

All of their faces are sullen and dejected. How shocking, no one is excited about Kodo being crowned king. He didn’t have any of the outside of the castle decorated or made presentable in any way. No one reacts when Kodo reads from an ancient looking book until a crown is placed on his head. 

A moment afterwards you’re instructed to kneel and a tiara is placed onto your head. 

The audience is silent and you feel shame when you stare out at them.

Even if you don’t have very much power you still feel as if you’ve failed them. The feeling follows you when you’re directed to the dining hall with Kodo.

“I have a couple gifts for you, wife.” His twisted smile makes your stomach turn as you enter the dining hall, now decorated with blue and gray banners.  

“A gift? You shouldn’t have, my king, I- I didn’t get you anything.” You feign remorse as you take a sip of the wine in front of you on instinct before spitting it back up into the cup. 

“That’s more than okay, you’re my gift, sweet wife, all mine.” The thought of such a thing makes you sick, you smile despite yourself. 

“That’s very kind.” You’ll only ever be Din’s. No amount of blue fabric and faux smiles can change that. He snaps his fingers and a large box is brought to you by a servant, they set it directly in front of you on the table. You look at Kodo who nods, sitting back in his chair as you stand, the box is wrapped in checkered blue paper, a large bow adorning the top. Your hands tremble a bit as you take hold of the edges of the ribbon, tugging on them until the bow slips free, much to your surprise the entire box falls open, the sides collapsing giving you an immediate view of the contents. 

The silver, shimmering contents. 

Din’s helmet. 

Polished like new, it sits before you, and the room suddenly empties. It’s as if you are completely alone, despite all the eyes that are most definitely pinned on you right now. Your hands continue to shake as your fingers wrap around the beskar steel, like you would when you held Din’s face, lifting it to glare into the visor. 

Empty. 

You can’t help but stare at your own emptiness reflected back at you. 

You want to hold it close, press it to your forehead but you’re snapped back to reality by the grating sound of Kodo’s voice breaking you from your focus on the helm between your hands. 

“That’s only one of your presents, open the next one.” He hisses gleefully. 

You set the helmet down, realizing there was another, much smaller box underneath it. Silently you scoop it up and cradle it in your hands. It’s a larger than a ring box, it just barely fits in your palm as you ever so gently open it, swinging the top open as if it were a tiny treasure chest.              

Huh.

It takes a moment.

You aren’t exactly sure what it is you’re looking at at first but when it registers your entire body tenses up, your grip tightening on the gift box. 

Bloody and pink, a tongue. 

Of course you know better than to assume Kodo would give you any old tongue. This is a special someone’s tongue. 

No, no, no, no, no. 

You had loved his tongue before anything else.

He can’t do this, he cannot do this to you.

You had fallen for his sharp wit first, it was what drew you into him. His sweet words had won you back, his declaration of devotion.

Now you hold all of that in the palm of your hand. 

“What do we say?” His nasally voice breaks through your mental anguish. 

No.

“Come on, where are your manners?”

Please. 

“Thank you.” Your whisper is nearly silent as you struggle to keep down the scream bubbling in your throat.

“What was that?” 

You clear your throat. 

“Thank you.” 

He makes you take it with you. You don’t bother telling him you won’t be attending the coronation ball in a few minutes, it’s not like you’ll be missed. 

In one arm you’re cradling his helmet, in the other the little blue box. 

You set each one down carefully onto the bed, even if it’s a bit demented these are the only parts of him you have left. You stare at the little box. 

You have never been hateful. 

Kodo made you into this. You are full of hate, for most things at this point. You hate your husband, you hate your room, and most of all you hate the little blue box on the bed. 

And the music starts. 

It must be deafening in the hall for you to hear it from your room but it’s there, loud and demanding of your attention. 

You’re moving before you even have a chance to think about it, in a few quick strides you’re standing beside the vanity, your hands gripping the top of the mirror as you pull it down in one swift motion, the contents spill everywhere and the glass shatters in an instant, shards splattering the floor but you take no time to process it. 

You move on to the next thing.

You yank each drawer from the dresser, throwing them to the floor, clothes strewn about until it’s light enough for you to push the entire dresser over. In your frenzy you go about the room toppling every stupid fucking table over. So many fucking end tables in  one room, and you throw everyone to the floor, trinkets and vases clattering to the ground as you destroy the room. You get a rush of adrenaline as you lift one of your nightstands and throw it against the wall leaving a small dent but more importantly the force of it makes anything hanging on the wall tumble to the floor, glass frames shatter. 

Your chest heaves as you stare at the carnage.  

And it isn’t enough.

Your face is wet with tears and your hands with blood from cuts you didn’t feel upon your skin as you tear open the closet door, the pile of blankets mock you from the floor, you grab them, your vision now blurry with tears as you pull them out of the closet, throwing them onto your bedroom floor. When you return to the closet you’re in a frenzy, you tear at the fabric before you, yanking each and every dress off their hangers, ripping what you can.

There is nothing else for you to do, so you destroy everything you can get your hands on until the only thing left untouched is your bed, left in pristine condition as you let out a small sob. 

Maybe you are a hateful person now. 

You feel as though you have every right to be at this point. 

You step over the shard of glass, giving your bloody hands a glance before wiping them on your gown.

Happy coronation day. 

You sit on the bed, your trembling fingers wrap around the helmet, now that you’re alone you waste no time to hold it against you face, until your body just gives up, too tired to stay awake anymore.

☆

A guard wakes you in the morning, knocking on your door, when you answer it they tell you Kodo requires your presence in his chambers.

You dress in a blue gown that you don’t look too closely at. Stopping at the fresher on the way, rinsing the dried gore from your palms, wincing as you clean your wounds. None of which seem too deep. 

You want to cut Kodo’s tongue out, to make him feel it. But you know that sort of thing would be an impossible task. So you daydream about it as you walk. You’re more than displeased when you open the door and are greeted by Leodall. You hadn’t seen him since that night and from the looks of it he wasn’t expecting you. He swallows loudly when you step inside Kodo’s room.

Normally you’d be curious, you’d probably take a look around but your eyes refuse to focus on anything but Leo as you scowl at him. 

“Why’d you do it?” You don’t hesitate to ask, you have no idea how quickly Kodo will be joining you. 

He simply stares at you, shame apparent on his face.

“You owe me an explanation at the very least.” You cross your arms in front of your chest as he clears his throat. 

“I thought he’d reward me.”

You laugh. A harsh dry sound 

“What could he have possibly given you that you couldn’t have just asked me for?” Your gaze never softens and you’re practically seeing red as you stare at him.

“I thought he’d give me a lordship.” 

You can’t help it as another crisp and pained laugh slips past your lips. 

“You thought Kodo would raise your status? I thought you were supposed to be smart.” Is he an idiot? “He doesn’t see servants as people, if you wanted such a thing you could have asked me, maybe I could have done something.” 

A glimmer of something similar to hope flashes through his eyes. 

“Would you- would you consider doing so now?”

“You cannot be serious-” Your expression goes from fury to disbelief as you stand. 

“It seemed worth asking.” He puts his hands up defensively as you storm up to him, poking a finger into his face. 

“You slimy little weasel, it should be you on the chopping block, not him. If it were up to me I’d have them put your head on a spike.” The words pour out of you like venom. 

“I would be nicer to me if I were you.” He sneers and your incredulity only grows. You can’t help it, you scoff in his face. 

“I would rather die.” A part of you really means it. 

“You might if you aren’t careful, I saved your life by letting Elaine and your Mandalorian take the fall, I could have told the king that you were a willing participant. I saw the two of you together, I read your little rules. He never forced himself on you. I wonder what Kodo might think about that.” You aren’t a fighter, you’ve never so much as thrown a punch in your life but you grab him by the collar of his shirt and slam him into the wall, the back of his head hits the stone and you don’t feel an ounce of remorse as you do so. 

“Do it.” You tilt your head to the side, almost as if you’re taunting him. “Tell him.” Any of the confidence he briefly had is gone in an instant. “The moment you do I’ll tell him that you’re covering your tracks, and that you made a pass at me. I wonder how Kodo would reward you for trying to touch what’s his?” Leo’s head turns as you both hear Kodo’s piercing voice in the hall. You release your grip on his shirt, brushing off your gown as you turn towards the door. Kodo and three others make their way into the room as Leo coughs behind you. 

“Dear wife, I have another gift for you.” He takes a step to the side, gesturing at a line of three people you don’t give so much as a glance. He doesn’t even seem to notice the obvious tension in the room. “A new staff!”

“I don’t need a new staff, I’m fine on my own.” You abandon the pleasantries. You’re in such a state of upset right now, what's the point? 

“You’re the queen now, staff is required. These three will replace the ones you've lost in a week, until then Leodall will be training them intensively to tend to your every need. Two guards will also be assigned to you but I promise they will be much less loathsome than your Mandalorian.”

All five of them will be trained to keep an eye on you. To report back to Kodo, after everything with Din you should have known he’d keep you on a shorter leash. 

You barely look at them. 

You hate them. 

You shouldn’t, they’ve done nothing wrong, but you hate them. 

You give each one a quick up and down, naming them in your mind. 

A BD-3000 droid commands the most authority just based on how she stands so you mentally note her as Elaine's replacement. You’ll call her new Elaine. 

New Lysa is a pasty young blonde woman with rosy cheeks. You truly wonder how well informed she has been on your circumstance. She’s smiling from ear to ear and seemingly couldn’t be happier to be here. 

And new Leo is somehow even more nervous looking than actual Leo, practically shaking like a leaf at the sight of you. The bags under his eyes are worse than your own. A lanky thing with messy brown hair. 

There’s no reason for you to fight this, Kodo always gets his way so why bother. So you nod. You don’t pretend to be grateful this time, instead you shove your way past all of them, content to return to your room and never leave. 

☆

The morning of the execution comes before you’re ready for it. 

Of course you didn’t sleep last night, how could you?

You dress yourself, apparently your new staff isn’t starting until tomorrow, not that you mind another day to yourself. You manage to find something that isn’t blue, a gray dress trimmed with gold, the closest thing you’ll find to funeral attire. No one else will dress with any respect for him but they can’t stop you. Your vanity is destroyed so you don’t bother with your hair or your makeup, you simply don’t care enough. 

For the most part you feel nothing when you open the door, only emptiness until you look down. 

Someone left you a small vase of flowers. 

You pick them up, taking a closer look but your heart skips a beat when you do so.

Daisies. 

After a few short breaths you throw the vase into the wall across from your door, tiny shards of porcelain fly everywhere as two servants at the end of the hall give you a look of horror. Your shoes crunch over the remains of it as you make your way down the hall and to the entryway of the castle. 

Kodo insists that the two of you get to see him first. 

You’re sweating wildly out on the steps as you wait.

Long before you’re ready for it they bring him out. 

A shivering skeleton of a man with a linen bag over his head, immediately bile rises in your throat. Kodo is grinning ear to ear when his legs are kicked out from under him and he’s forced to kneel.

Kodo himself reaches forward and tears the bag off, too excited for any decorum or finesse. 

You gasp as you stare down at the broken man before you.

In all honesty he isn’t at all what you envisioned. 

His eyes verge on being hazel; they're such a light brown. You’d always pictured them to be nearly black. It doesn’t matter what color they are though, when you see the tears forming in his lash line you flinch, clutching the ring on your necklace to silently let him know silently just how much he means to you. 

He’s a mess. 

You don’t like looking at what those weeks in the dungeons did to him and the last thing you need to do right now is empty your stomach on the palace steps. 

He’s too thin. Far, far, too thin, it’s like his entire being has shrunk down. He’s hollow.

Your breath hitches when Kodo grabs a fistful of his dark hair, forcing him to turn and stare at the crowd. They must have cut it while he was down there it’s a mess, jagged edges and shorter than you’re used to. 

“This man has committed an act of treason against the crown.” His voice is loud and booming as the city goes quiet. “For such a crime he shall face the proper punishment.” He yanks him downawards, you watch in horror as Din’s head hits the stone, an incoherent mess of sounds pour from his bloody mouth and you have to look away. 

He didn’t want you to look.

You remind yourself to try and calm your breathing. You can hear the scuffle as they drag him to the guillotine, placing his neck into the wooden divot, your heart threatening to beat out of your chest as you turn to look. His eyes are everywhere but on you as he looks at the people around him, desperately pleading for his life. Not a single person so much as glances at him, afterall, it’s just nonsense, no one can understand him without a tongue. 

You can’t stand it, you almost cover your ears but you manage to resist as Kodo puts an arm around your waist, pulling you close to him. 

“You’re welcome, sweet wife.” He whispers, his breath hot and wet against your ear. 

Fuck it. 

You don’t suppress the shudder in your spine as you shoot him a look of disgust. In a matter of moments everything you care about will be gone, why pretend any longer.

A bellowing chime plays from a nearby clock tower and you know it’s time, you straighten up as you stare at the guillotine in abject horror. 

This is it. 

Your chest rises and falls in sharp short bursts as everyone prepares themselves, a hush forming among the crowd on the street. 

And it begins, a chain reaction that you cannot stop now that the executioner has his ax raised above his head.

You had expected more. More time.

A part of you thought that time would slow, that you’d have a chance to stop it. 

But no. 

There is no epic fairy tale moment where the sun glimmers off of the blade and the executioner raises his ax, giving you this perfect moment to run to him, to shield him from the inevitable, to beg them to take you with him. 

That moment never comes. 

You barely have enough time to close your eyes like you promised him. In one unbroken motion the rope is cut, the blade falls and boom. 

Just like that, he’s gone. 

When you hear the metal slicing through the air you squeeze your eyes shut, hearing only the wet crunch as it cuts through flesh and bone. A soft, squishy thud when his head hits the stone. 

In fashion with your decision to no longer hide your disgust from Kodo you vomit. Bending down you puke onto the stones, spraying your own, and Kodo’s feet. The triumphant smile on his face vanishes as he realizes what’s happened. You wipe your mouth on the back of your hand, refusing to look at Din’s limp body as you give Kodo one last look of detestation before turning around and running back into the castle, not caring what anyone thinks anymore.

The moment you’re inside the reality of it all settles in as you feel tears falling wildly as you run up the steps to your room.

☆

You have been good, and kind, and in return the maker rewarded you by killing the love of your life. 

So when you stand in the center of your demolished room you do the only thing your body can do at this point. 

You scream. 

From deep within your stomach, you scream, loud and raw. 

If anything was left unbroken in your room you’d be throwing it at the wall. But there’s nothing so you scream. 

You shriek.

You howl. 

And you wail.

You scream until there is no more noise. Your voice, like the rest of you, gives up. 

You aren’t sure how late it is when you finally stop. You’re tired and it’s dark outside and your throat is raw. 

And you lay on the floor. Because the bed is too big, and too cold, and the closet is so empty. So the only place left to sleep is there. You lay on the floor with no more tears to cry and no more sounds to scream as you stare at your bed, only from this angle can you see a rectangular shape under your bed frame. 

You wipe your nose with a stray piece of fabric before slowly crawling over to it, you sit on the floor and when you retrieve the item a brand new lump forms in your throat as you stare down at the box Din had bought all those days ago at the market. 

Your failsafe. 

With quivering hands you open it, staring into the small space containing a mess of items but what catches your eye is a piece of folded paper with your name on it. You take it between your fingers, opening it, careful to not let your tears fall onto it. 

Sarad’ika,

If you’re reading this then I’m afraid things aren’t going all that well for me. There are plenty of possible reasons as to why I’m no longer with you, but what’s important is that I plan on doing everything in my power to get back to you. There is only one thing in the galaxy that could keep me from your side, and if that is my fate then this box will ensure you’re taken care of. 

The most important thing is for you to get off this planet. I have included a few possible plans for you, do what you have to to survive. Elaine will help you escape. 

You can seek out Greef Karga on Nevarro. Tell him Din Djarin sent you, tell him what’s happened and he will see to it that you are cared for. Explain our circumstances and I am certain he will provide you with safe lodging. 

Tatooine is also an option. You’ll find a Mandalorian there by the name of Boba Fett, he will not turn you away. You will be protected there, if you need to relocate for some reason after that he will help you locate the Mandalorian convert. Show the Mandalorians your ring and you will be cared for the rest of your life, the convert will protect you. 

As an absolute last resort there is a planet located in the Outer Ring called Ossus. There is a school there, taught by a man named Luke Skywalker. I doubt he would be eager to take you in but you must insist. Bring the chainmail, they’ll know who sent you. Take care of each other. 

In this box you will find enough credits to get you off planet and take care of you for several months, a year if you’re frugal, I suggest you take a few jewelry pieces to pawn off for extra credits as well. You will find a small chainmail shirt, and a necklace of mine. 

And lastly you will find your vibroblade. 

Protect yourself. You’re strong, and more than capable of doing so.

I have one request for you, please, I will only ask this one thing of you. 

Be smart. 

You are the smartest and kindest person I have ever had the honor of knowing. Be smart, take care of yourself. If the roles were reversed I know that I would go to extremes to either get you back, or find justice for you. And all I can do is ask that you do not attempt any such thing, the only thing I would ever want for you is safety and happiness. 

So seek those things out. 

Be safe. Be happy.   

I was lucky to know you, and even luckier to be yours. 

an ner kar'taylir darasuum, 

Din

All my love. 

You flip the paper over, desperate for more, more Din, but all you find is scrawled coordinates to each location. Your fingers sift through the items, everything he promised is found inside but you latch onto the blade. Laying back down on the floor you clutch it between your fingers as you think of Din.

Din, who was yours.

Din, who they took from you.

Who Kodo, took from you. 

And your grip on the knife tightens. 

☆

Two guards stand outside your door round the clock now. 

They never follow you or come into your room but they’re there, silently watching as you direct all your anger at your new staff. As promised Leo trained them to be as persistent and infuriating as he was. 

When the two new girls come to fetch you in the morning you can’t help it when you scream at them to leave you alone and to stop trying to clean the ever growing mess of things. 

It doesn’t matter that it isn’t their fault, you can’t stand the sight of anyone. 

All three of them try. New Elaine and Lysa show up three times a day, trying to dress you and squeeze their way past you into the room but after enough shrieking they always leave you be. 

New Leo usually tries once or twice a day, you don’t even look at him. You always stare at the floor, when he tries to speak you give him the same treatment as the girls, screaming at him and slamming the door. 

Why should you let them in? You know what they are. They’re here to spy on you, to be Kodo’s eyes while he’s busy being king. They’re easy to evade. When you leave to fetch yourself food or a book from the library you easily outrun them. The two girls are worse at navigating the castle than you were when you first arrived and new Leo has a bad leg, sometimes he’ll make attempts to limp after you but they’re always unsuccessful. 

You think of nothing, day after day because there is nothing to think about. 

Except for the fact that Kodo took your future away from you. He took everything from you. 

If you thought time was blending before Din’s death nothing could have prepared you for now. You don’t track the days as well, you keep your curtains drawn and only leave when you get hungry or start to think of Din. The last thing you need to do is have another screaming fit so you keep him locked away in your heart, an ache that’s always there that you don’t address. 

One day, in a fit of tears you took your knife and decided on a whim to kill Kodo. You didn’t care about the repercussions at that point you just wanted him to suffer but the moment you opened the door you nearly tripped, stumbling backwards the guards didn’t so much as glance at you. 

Another vase of flowers.

You’re tempted to just kick them down the hall but you can’t help yourself when you lean down to pick them up. 

A bouquet of blue lilies. Your nose twitches at the sight of them, out of the corner of your eye you see new Lysa and new Elaine approaching so you take the opportunity to slam the little glass vase into the stone floor. Glaring at them when you do before returning to your room. 

☆

Maybe it’s been three days since Din died. 

Maybe it’s been three months. 

You aren’t sure.

You aren’t sure when you made plans to kill Kodo either but suddenly you have them. A fool proof way to get him alone. 

And suddenly you’re dressed for the first time in, well, however long it’s been. In a baby blue nightie with a robe you march out into the hall. The guards watch in silence as you walk away, your bare feet scampering down the stairs until you find yourself watching the main entrance. Waiting for your loving husband to make his nightly trip to a pleasure house, a trip that is typically accompanied by guards. 

You grip the handle of the knife in your pocket as you wait until you finally hear footsteps approaching. 

“Kodo, honey?” You step out from behind the stone column, holding your robe closed as you bat your eyelashes at him. He stumbles around drunkenly until his eyes focus on you. 

You’ve only used your voice for screaming for so long you sound meek, exactly as you want to right now. 

“Wife?”

“I thought maybe you’d like to join me tonight…” You hold a hand out towards him, putting on a sickly sweet tone of innocence. His mouth twists into a grin. 

“I knew you’d come around eventually.”

He doesn’t question where you’re taking him, he simply follows.

What a joke. 

You pull him up the stairs, you know from hide and seek where to find an empty room so you guide him there in calculated silence until he trips a bit, laughing to himself as he stutters.

“I knew if I got rid of the Mandalorian you’d realize how much better I am than him.” The statement doesn’t sit right with you and he can see it on your face, even in his drunken state he can sense your confusion. 

You both stop, you’re above him on the stairs as you turn and stare into his eyes.

“You- you knew?”

He simply nods, that sickening smile of his is plastered on his face. His icy blue eyes shimmer with delight. 

“How long?”

“When Leo told me I remembered everything. That little altercation in the hall when your boy knocked me out came right back to me, from there it wasn’t hard to figure out.” Your eye twitches as he speaks.

He knew you loved him and he took him from you anyway.

Any hesitations you had are gone as you nod, pulling him onward until you reach the large vacant tower room. He’s so drunk you decide to just drop the voice, pointing at a spot on the floor. 

“Lay down.” You mumble, reaching into your pocket once more.

He eagerly does as he’s told, laying down on the cold stone, you take a deep breath, in one swift motion you grab your knife, holding it behind your back as you toss your robe aside. He gives you a toothy grin as you ever so slowly walk to him, standing above him before sitting, straddling his waist. 

You look him up and down, one last time. 

Your loving husband. 

One of his hands plays with the blue lace of your nightie as you collect yourself. You look up at the ceiling briefly. 

I’m sorry. 

Not for Kodo, but for Din. This is exactly what he didn’t want you to do. 

You aren’t a killer. And you aren’t hateful, but a person can only be pushed so far before something breaks. 

Be smart. 

You think of Din’s note one last time before you bring the blade out in front of you and slam the blade into Kodo’s chest. 

He makes a sickly wet sound, coughing as he stares at you in shock.

You remove the knife, the hot steel cauterizes his wounds, there isn’t so much as a drop of blood as your face twists with fury and you bring it down again into his stomach now. 

How dare he look surprised by any of this. 

After what he took from you? He deserves galaxies worse. 

So you remove the knife. 

And you stab him again.

And again,

and again,

and again,

and again,

and again.

Until there is no more shocked look on his face. You don’t have a snarky remark or a statement to commemorate your revenge, you’re all used up at this point, all you have is this, this stabbing motion. 

He didn’t even have a chance to fight back.

You crawl off of his body, sitting on the stones as you toss the knife to the side, waiting for a rush of euphoria. 

But it never comes. 

It doesn’t feel as good as you thought it would. 

Staring down at Kodo’s lifeless body. You let yourself crumble. Collapsing down onto the floor, gasping for air as you sob. 

This was never going to bring him back. 

You lay there on your hands and knees for quite some time, just wailing, because what else are you supposed to do right now? You realize far too late that this was never an act of malice, some demented and shattered part of you thought that this would somehow bring him back, that it would give you peace. 

They won’t execute you. 

You planned this exactly so they wouldn’t.

Kodo didn’t tell anyone about your relationship with Din in much detail, not enough for them to assume that you could be with child. Everyone will assume that it’s Kodo’s. They won’t kill you, they can’t. 

Not if they think you’re carrying Kodo’s child. Now that Kodo’s dead, there’s no one to tell the royal family that you never consummated your marriage, your child is the most well protected person on the planet. The future monarch. It’s almost funny, you haven’t permitted yourself to think about the stirring within you as a child until just now, in this moment of weakness. A child, your child. 

Who will most likely grow up without a mother because of the decisions you've made today.

You bite your fist, swallowing a scream as you sit back on your heels. 

Your child will never know how loved they were. Your little one will never get to sit beside their mother while their father teaches them to sew. You put your head in your hands as you wail, no longer caring who hears. Your fate is sealed, what does it matter? 

You don’t turn when you hear someone coming up the stairs. When they pull you into their arms you try uselessly to shove them away. Your vision is blurry and filled with tears as you stare up at the unfamiliar figure now holding you. They rub your back, drawing swirls and stars against your spine as they pull you closer. 

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.” They mumble into your hair. You dry your eyes hastily on your sleeve, confused by the voice you’re hearing, it’s painfully familiar, on instinct you wrap your arms around their torso, pulling yourself into their lap as you both sit on the floor beside Kodo’s body. “You’re okay, I’m here.”

“I’m- I’m sorry.” You whisper against the stranger's shirt. You knew you weren’t hateful. You’re certain of it now because even though he took quite literally everything from you, you still feel bad when you look at Kodo. 

A large hand cups your face, pulling you back to their chest so you can’t see the corpse anymore. 

“I didn’t mean it- I- I didn’t mean to kill him. Well I did but I just-” You begin to ramble as a fresh flood of tears begin sliding down your cheeks. 

“Hey- hey it’s okay. I know you didn’t mean it. We gotta get you cleaned up, okay? I’ll take care of this, I’ll fix it.” Their arms tighten around you, giving you a reassuring squeeze. You finally find the courage to look at your companion and it takes a moment for you to even realize who you’re looking at. 

New Leo. 

Why would he help you? You treat him like shit. When you look at him he looks like he’s about to cry and for the first time since Din was taken from you drop the walls you’ve put up and you let yourself feel bad for him. You show an ounce of kindness to him because in all honesty he’s the first person to make you feel safe since the night Din was taken from you. 

A lighthouse while you sail through a storm.

So you hug him. 

You pull yourself closer to him and you offer him a comfort you haven’t known for days.

“I’m sorry… for all of it, but especially the flowers, I should have told you, I just- you wouldn’t let me and the guards wouldn’t let me in without your permission and you just wouldn’t look at me.” He begins to mumble his own apologies, sending a surge of confusion through you. 

You furrow your brows, pulling back once more giving him a perplexed look as you search his nearly black eyes for some kind of answer. 

And it clicks. 

All at once it snaps into place and you want to say his name, so desperately, but you’re terribly afraid of being wrong. 

And then he smiles. A soft smile that makes you feel okay and you don’t even care if you’re wrong and you don’t care if it doesn’t make sense you just have to ask.

“Din?”

☆

a/n : yeah so uhhhhh yeah uhhhh this is the first chapter i've ever written where im actually very fond of the writing and nervous about the plot stuff so im gonna go hide?? and just vanish for a while lol

//

I don't have a tag list anymore !! follow @lincolndjarinnotifs for updates!!

[dioslesbianwife]

HAIAIAIAIAIAIIAAIIA im the same person who requested mizuki like reader!!! Can I request reader whos like mafuyu asahina w bucci gang again ?? :3

She is the lyricist of the online music circle 25-ji, Nightcord de. In middle school, she aspired to be a nurse, however, her parents pressured her to be a doctor instead. Conforming to what others expected of her caused Mafuyu to lose her sense of identity, having difficulty expressing true emotion or deciding what she likes.

She appears outwardly kind and considerate, but is inwardly struggling with a lack of emotion and feelings, essentially acting as a detached observer of her life. She is admired by her peers for her intelligence, athleticism, and humble nature, but beneath the surface, she is emotionally detached and dispassionate.

If its not too much can bucci gang react to her singing BUG !!

[ https://youtu.be/gkfHemXxQVo?si=fyVWk9_PrCiZRdPx ]

hiiiiii, sure, thank u for the description, hope you enjoy ^^

Giorno

Giorno admires your precision and ability to stay composed in any situation. You're the one he trusts most with quiet, behind-the-scenes tasks that require intense focus- planning routes, patching up wounds, analyzing intel.

He notices how you always seem calm… too calm. He can’t help but wonder why someone so brilliant and kind has eyes that never seem to reflect what she’s feeling.

The first time he hears you sing BUG, he’s stunned. He was passing your door late one night and froze when he heard your voice- beautiful, but full of raw hopelessness.

The lyrics don’t seem like a performance. They sound like a cry for help.

Giorno knocks, softly. “That song… is it how you feel?”

His voice is gentle. He doesn’t want to push. But his eyes are searching, quietly pleading.

“You don’t have to carry everything alone, you know.”

Bucciarati

You’re his golden child. Not literally, but in how he entrusts you with sensitive missions, always tells the others, “I know she’ll do it right.”

You smile politely. You never complain. You’re the perfect subordinate.

But Bruno’s perceptive. He sees the way you watch others laugh without joining in. How you speak kindly, but rarely personally. He knows something’s wrong.

He doesn’t confront you outright. Instead, he finds a quiet moment and asks:

“When’s the last time you did something just for yourself?”

The BUG incident wrecks him. He hears the song and feels like he’s failed you.

“You’ve been suffering this whole time… and I didn’t see it.”

Bruno pulls you into a hug. “I’m here. I’m not letting you go until you believe that.”

Trish

Trish sees a lot of herself in you: a girl trying to meet expectations while slowly losing herself.

But where Trish fought to find her voice, you seem to have accepted your numbness.

She doesn’t like that. Not because she blames you- but because she knows how much that hurts.

Trish starts gently encouraging you to speak up. “What do you want to eat?” “Don’t say ‘anything’s fine,’ I want your opinion.”

She hears you sing BUG while you’re alone- your voice eerily soft, like someone singing at their own funeral.

Trish doesn’t say anything at first. She just sits with you. Puts a hand on your shoulder.

“You don’t have to perform all the time,” she says eventually. “Not for me. Not for any of us.”

Abbacchio

Abbacchio thinks you’re too good to be in the mafia at first. Smart, capable, obedient- he assumes you’re just another brainwashed idealist.

But over time, he realizes you’re not naive. You’re just… emotionally distant.

He starts noticing the signs. The way you always say “I’m fine” with dead eyes. The way you look at people like you’re not really here.

When he hears you singing BUG, he doesn’t knock. He just stands there for a long time, listening.

Later that night, he leaves a note:

“If you ever want someone who won’t ask questions, I’ll listen.”

It’s scrawled in his handwriting. No name. But you know it’s him.

He won’t push you to open up. But he’ll protect you until you’re ready to.

Narancia

Narancia doesn’t get your silence at first. He thinks you’re just shy. So he tries everything to make you laugh- dancing, jokes, dumb impressions of Mista.

“C’monnnn, you like me a little, right?”

You always smile, but it’s the kind of smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. That bothers him more than he knows how to explain.

One day, you ask him softly, “Why do you try so hard to make me smile?”

Narancia just shrugs. “Because I think you deserve to smile for real.”

When he hears you singing BUG, it breaks his heart. 

He storms into your room, flustered and emotional.

“Why didn’t you say anything? Why do you think you gotta fake everything?! You could’ve told me- told any of us…”

He promises he’ll try harder. “Even if it takes forever, I’m gonna be your reason to smile. I swear.”

Fugo

Fugo sees you as the perfect teammate. Sharp, fast-thinking, never argues. He envies your self-control.

But as someone who’s constantly fighting his own emotions, your numbness unnerves him.

“Don’t you ever get angry?” he asks one day. You just blink. “I don’t think I remember how.”

Fugo gets this sick, twisting feeling in his stomach.

When he hears you sing BUG, he doesn’t know how to handle it. His hands shake. He’s not used to silent suffering. His pain screams. Yours whispers.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he chokes out when he finds you afterward. “Why did you just let yourself rot like that?”

He’s not yelling. He’s terrified. Because he sees too much of himself in you- only you turned it all inward.

“You’re not a bug. You’re not broken.”

Mista

Mista thinks you’re cool as hell. Smart, chill, nice to everyone, and you never lose your temper no matter how chaotic things get? Iconic- until he realizes… wait. You’re kinda scary calm.

He starts watching you more closely. Noticing how you always brush things off. How you say “it’s okay” even when it clearly isn’t.

The BUG moment hits him like a truck.

He’s frantic in the most Mista way possible. Rubbing the back of his neck, pacing, talking with his hands. “I thought you were just, like, introverted! I didn’t know you were hurting like that!”

Then he calms down. Sits next to you. Awkward silence for a minute.

“You don’t have to be perfect all the time, you know? I like you even when you’re weird. Even when you’re sad. You can be all of that with us.”

The Sex Pistols start aggressively comforting you. Like, hugging your knees and shouting “DON’T BE SAD, LADY! YOU’RE OUR FAVORITE HUMAN!!”

[fafodill]

I’m having fun discussing my headcanon tbh :) I have toyed with the idea of using impairment to hide things. Like I don’t think they expect a whole lot from him in terms of sobriety, so the occasional “yeah I dunno” and then substance fog to hide something that was too much emotionally to obscure would be a powerful, if rarely usable, tool. Like how people numb traumatic memories with substances. Too many times and he loses his utility as a spy, but every once in a while might work.

Yeah it doesn't sound like a reliable tool and that's not a risk he can take in his position. We're talking about a man who's the Dark Lord most trusted and also Dumbledore's right hand man. He has to be as perfect as he can, beyond suspicion, above criticism all the time.

We're not exactly sure how Occlumency works but we have a few words from the man himself from his lesson with Harry:

“It is true, however, that those who have mastered Legilimency are able, under certain conditions, to delve into the minds of their victims and to interpret their findings correctly. The Dark Lord, for instance, almost always knows when somebody is lying to him. Only those skilled at Occlumency are able to shut down those feelings and memories that contradict the lie, and so utter falsehoods in his presence without detection.”

To me it sounds like Occlumency is a very difficult art to master. Snape describes earlier in the book it as "An obscure branch of magic, but a highly useful one." It's not common magic, it's not even something that anybody can do. Harry is truly shite at it. It requires a lot of focus and self-discipline to master it. Also, in his case it's not just about shutting down the information but being able to lie effectively on top of it.

We can wonder about when Snape started teaching himself Occlumency but I personally think he might have started during his last years at Hogwarts as a mean to precisely shut down unpleasant feelings or memories after SWM. In that sense, I'd even go as far as to argue he could be addicted to Occlumency.

“Then you will find yourself easy prey for the Dark Lord!” said Snape savagely. “Fools who wear their hearts proudly on their sleeves, who cannot control their emotions, who wallow in sad memories and allow themselves to be provoked this easily — weak people, in other words — they stand no chance against his powers! He will penetrate your mind with absurd ease, Potter!”

He needs to control his emotions. That's what kept him alive and protected all these years. From the Dark Lord. From Dumbledore. And from himself.

“Then prove it! Master yourself!” spat Snape. “Control your anger, discipline your mind! We shall try again! Get ready, now! Legilimens,”

Underneath everything, Snape is a highly emotional person. He's full to the brim with trauma, spite, anger, anxiety, you name it. It wouldn't be a big stretch of canon to say he's precisely using Occlumency as a barrier against his own demons as well. It's his own version of weed brain fog. But one he has complete control over.

[sharp-silver4795]

Hello!! So I’m pretty sure you haven’t answered a question like this,, (I haven’t read that much of thine content .I’m sorry😔) so I’m just gonna ask

The goggle boys (Cody & Toby)(& yes I’d rather pull my own hair out than type ‘bois’ just seeing the word fills me with a kind of rage ) have more in common than their name; they both have incredibly, vastly different to each individual person, although it is much more common to see for Toby..😅

So uhh could you share with us their personalities in your au/headcanon please

🙏

Toby + Cody Personality HCs

Omg! Ofc! I haven’t gotten a lot of asks, and I don’t have many actual posts- most of them are reblogs XD

And uhhh sorry to break this to you, but I say “boi(s)” all the time 😅

I don’t think I need any warnings here-

Sorry if this isn’t great lol I suck at personalities

Cody

A cocky little shit, but not in a completely bad way-

He more just likes to humble people.

He’s a field proxy and tends to go out in more missions than the high proxy himself (Toby).

He has enough experience to make people look stupid, and he loves doing it just to have those embarrassing and awkward moments (for them).

If you’re on his good side, he’s a big goof.

His sense of humor doesn’t make any sense and that’s why it’s funny

He isn’t too short-fused, but if you push him too much get ready for the biggest verbal beat down of your life.

He’s really smart, ofc.

He is good at manipulating people. Whether he uses it for good or evil is up to him. He really doesn’t do it often tbh

He got the name X Virus from the first concoction he made that he called “Virus X.” It would late be called “the changing death” due to how it changes based on how people react to it and how it is administered.

He thinks he’s slick, but he never is- he’s clumsy as hell.

He’s really easy to get along with, but not in a boring way.

He’s an ok listener… he’s a little scatterbrained at times, but if you catch him on a good day or really drill to him that it’s serious he will give you his undivided attention.

Bud is a gentleman. Whether the other person is a man, woman, or anything in between he drinks all the respect juice.

Despite his charm and humor, he is socially awkward. He can’t talk to new people without making himself look like a whole entire fool.

Man likes to try to be an edge lord but will cry if he actually offends you

He is secretly a sweet summer child…

Toby

He is the happy medium between knowing what he’s capable of and humble at the same time.

Toby is surprisingly serious. His humor is either really fucking hilarious or just dry as hell.

He just isn’t good at making jokes verbally.

But he is good at making jokes when it requires action.

For example, he was practicing accuracy and precision with Kat (Kat uses a gun and he uses an axe- duh). Kat got full bullseye. Toby’s response was to hit the tip of the axe blade in the exact place that the bullet hit. He then comically bowed to him.

It was a good laugh for everyone. No one’s feelings were hurt.

He can’t read the room very well, so he has friends do it for him (namely Jeff and Clockwork) and explain it in simple words.

Before I say anything else, I do this IRL with my friends bc I can’t read the room. I don’t see this as calling Toby stupid or infantilizing him at all. This is something that I feel he would do just cuz… head cannons 🤷

Ok, back to head cannons-

He is chronically sleep deprived.

He’s a great listener. If you need to vent, he’s the perfect person to go to. (This is the main reason him and Cody are so close)

He takes shit from no one

While he’s on the job, he seems very cold and rude at times, but he just takes his job kinda seriously.

He is the kind of person that starts something, leaves it on the desk or smthn, and never comes back to finish it and then randomly in the day with just be like: “OH SHIT-”

Sorry if it’s not great, when ppl ask me for personality shit I’m always confused as to what to fucking say. Anyway-

Hope this was ok!!! Have a good day/night/whatever the fuck it is for you! 💜

[cadet-aviator]

Into service (4)

We took the short walk over the Army compound to that same leafy lane with the old colonial officers houses, and to be sure, one of them was my new ‘post’, as the officer called it.

He dropped me off at the front door, and added a few final remarks, which was nice of him. 

‘Here you are, cadet, I’m leaving you in the hands of colonel S, who is now your host, but most of all your commanding officer and your legal guardian – you’ll find all that in the documents I gave you.’

‘Yes Sir.’ I didn’t ask what he meant by ‘legal guardian’.

‘Right, well, it’s not up to me, cadet, but a bit of advice: you have learned a lot about cadet life, so far, in Elite Camp, in school, and I can see you can take care of your uniform, but from now on, the bar is set much higher. I don’t know yet what the Cadet Program has in store for you, but for now you will be serving the colonel and his family as a Mess & Household cadet, as you’ve been trained to.’

‘Yes Sir’. 

‘I know you have special permission to go to school off-grounds, that’s a real privilege, so make sure there are no reasons to revoke that.’

‘Yes Sir.’ I didn’t ask what he meant by ‘revoking’ – surely I was to go to school as always?

‘Just focus completely on what the colonel orders, forget about everything else, be 200% perfect, and you’ll be OK, understood?’

‘Yes Sir.’

‘Dismissed, cadet’

‘Thank you Sir.’

He rang the doorbell for me. The door opened; another junior officer told me to go in; he checked the paperwork with the kind officer who had accompanied me.

Until that moment I had very little idea of what was in store for me – apart from knowing I was to live with the family of an Army colonel, in his pleasant colonial house on the base. I knew very little else. I knew that I would be a ward of the Army, but I hadn’t asked what that meant. I had heard the words ‘legal guardian’, but I hadn’t inquired about that neither. I guess I was thinking that I would now be able to live in a really disciplined household, with clear rules and with people who were completely at ease in the Army structure – unlike my Dad, who had always tried to keep me grounded in civil society. 

The junior officer was curt. 

‘Attention!’

I stood to attention, as I had stood hundreds of times before. He checked the papers.

‘Cadet-student, welcome to this post. You are here as Mess & Household servant to his excellency the colonel and his family. This is a permanent post, that is to say you are in service seven days a week, 24 hours a day, apart from your school hours and school work, and occasional meetings with your parents. You will be given a list of your tasks and your uniform requirements. I will show you to your quarters; you will change into your cadet whites, and wait for the colonel. If you have any questions you will address them to the colonel. Follow me.’

I grabbed my suitcase and followed him, up the stairs. It was a lovely house, very old-fashioned, clearly the home of a nice family, and everything was pristine – nothing out of order, no kids’ clothes lying about, or any of that. I liked that.

My room was on the top floor, an attic space. There was a small bathroom on the landing and I noticed the washing machine was there too – I was already thinking of how many shirts I had packed and how many I was going to need. 

The junior officer left me there: ‘Get changed and then stand and wait downstairs. Dismissed.’

The room was tiny, dark. There was one bed – a cot, to be precise. I guessed it had been a servant’s room long ago – and then I realised that it still was: I was the servant.

[viktor-rp]

Viktor! you’re a scientist. I need to talk to a scientist!

OK listen I’ve been thinking about DNA repair, specifically how telomeres are shortenings and this causes our cells to enter senescence. A cell replicates itself until the associated gap at the 5’ end of the DNA no longer has a telomere to protect it from damaging the coding DNA. But then there’s telomerase which extends those telomeres which lessons this process. Not all our cells have telomerase and you don’t want to give all your cell telomerase because that would lead to cancer. But if you could create a Telomerase that is expressed and degraded on command, I’m not sure you’d still have the cancer problem. You would have to introduce this into all your cells. But it could solve the issue of senescence forwarded aging. I think the issue is telomerase is too stable, if it hangs around and protects the cell too much you get the ability to replicate over and over causing cancer. If we could create a telemetric complex that is almost instantly degraded by the cell and only had the time to do one lengthening we could control exactly how much telomeric length we wanted to add. No. I hear what you’re thinking, ‘telomerase is only had a certain length. What do you mean we could control the length?’ Well, hear me out. TERC. If we modify the TERC RNA template sequence to be longer, telomerase will simply build a longer telomere. RNA polymers certainly won’t care!

just a thought

-a fellow mad scientist

(Ooc disclaimer, this is all my own junk science for the sake of the bit I’m a college student please don’t tell your professors that this is how anti aging works, you’re going to give someone cancer, I’m not a PHD)

Dear Anon,you’ve stumbled upon a fascinating idea—one that dances on the edge of brilliance and chaos. Telomeres, senescence, the delicate balance between life and death... it’s all so tantalizingly close to something revolutionary. But let me tell you, as someone who has navigated the unpredictable nature of science, this is no simple equation. You speak of telomerase, of controlling its expression, of wielding it like a tool to stave off aging. A noble pursuit, indeed. But you must understand—life is not so easily tamed. Telomerase is not just a switch to flip; it is a force, one that can either grant immortality or unleash devastation. Cancer, as you rightly fear, is the shadow that follows such power. Your idea of a telomerase complex that is expressed and degraded on command... it’s clever, I’ll give you that. But even the most precise mechanisms can falter. The cell is a battlefield, and introducing such a tool would require perfect control. One misstep, one lingering molecule, and you risk tipping the scales toward uncontrolled replication. And trust me, I know a thing or two about unintended consequences. As for modifying TERC—extending the template, crafting longer telomeres—it’s a bold move. But remember, the cell is not a blank canvas. It resists, it adapts, it fights back. You may dream of controlling the length, but the cell may have other plans. RNA polymers may not care, but the cell? The cell always cares. Still, I admire your ambition. The pursuit of immortality, of defying the natural order—it’s a siren’s call, one that I’ve answered myself in my own way. But be warned: the path you walk is fraught with peril. One wrong step, and you may find yourself not as the master of life, but as its destroyer. Proceed with caution. And if you ever need a partner in your experiments... well, you know where to find me. Just don’t blame me if things go boom

(THE AMOUNT OF RESEARCH I'VE DONE FOR THIS)

[willthespy]

How to anatomy?

okok i have been putting off replying to this because I’m shit at explaining and also mess up anatomy myself A LOT, but here’s some tips that have helped me.

Watching your surroundings/people IRL. I think this kind of requires for you to be more of a visual thinker, but this especially helps me with facial anatomy. You can also use pictures for this, in which you just… look. Looking and copying again and again really helps, but you gotta know how to look.

I think the most important things to study are the general sizes (of limbs, hands, etc.) and to play around with it a bit, which is easier if you are a digital artist. Then also the muscles and the shapes of every separate part. Also where they connect. For example where the arm connects to the torso and how that looks in different positions.

I also see a lot of people use thick lines in their first sketch, which I genuinely think doesn’t help. Loose, sketchy lines allow you to get a better feel of what you’re making and allows you to build a shape, rather than conforming to one shape at once. Sure, that’s got nothing to do with anatomy, but it helps when studying.

Art references. And also tracing and copying, but in a way that you don’t trace precisely, but check for general rules and use it to study the anatomy. Once again, sketching over instead of harsh tracing helps you understand easier and better imo. By tracing I also mostly mean the body, and I think you shouldn’t rely on it entirely, hence why it’s a study. You learn from it so you can stray away from actual references.

I also look at myself a lot. If I’m confused how an arm stretches? I’ll test it out. This adds onto the looking at others tip.

Breaking the (human) body down into simpler shapes for the sketch and working with lines to measure and guide? in a way (especially in the face area and to determine a clear middle throughout your subject’s body.

LOOKING AT ANCIENT GREEK (or inspired) STATUES. They were genius, I swear. They’ve helped me personally whenever I actually study anatomy to create more fluid and life-like poses, even if I do in fact fail to apply that to my art occasionally.

Limbs and other body parts aren’t straight, but actually more fluid, which is important to know. Of course stylization is a thing, but this fact helped me a lot. Also looking at how ‘fat’ is distributed between afab and amab people (generally) can be nice information to know, which adds to the muscle knowledge.

Practice…. so much practice….. I myself try to draw almost daily, but you also shouldn’t wear yourself out. Don’t draw if you can’t at the moment, but when you feel okay enough to do so, I do think studying helps a lot, even when you just draw a similar pose over and over again. Drawing shouldn’t be a chore, so from experience, don’t force yourself and be dumb like me and overwork the tiny artist working in your brain.

These are just a few! I might have more but I’m tired. If there’s more specific questions or more visual examples and stuff needed, I’ll definitely reply faster though… hopefully.

[forgedroyalseal]

Life a bit to the left

Chapter Five:

Next the willowy girl stepped forward. “Alyss Mainwaring, my lord. I request an appointment to the Diplomatic Service please my lord.” Her voice was low and even, each word clear and precise. She didn’t hesitate in her request or stumble over how or when to address the baron. Will thought that diplomacy would suit her well. Clearly the diplomatic craftmaster did too, because the silver haired woman smiled gently and nodded.

”I have already spoken to Alyss, my lord. I believe she will be an excellent candidate.”

Alyss’ smile wasn’t nearly as boisterous as Horace’s, but it was just as glowing. As Will watched the next two teenagers in line, George and Jenny, get accepted into their desired fields, Will wondered what it would be like to suddenly be handed the exact future you had been hoping for. These four orphan’s had just been granted a life that wouldn’t be dependent on a tempermental overseer or if there had been enough rain for the crops. They had security, a feeling Will had never experienced. Though looking at them, Will figured that was nothing new for them. They had all been so sure that they’d receive their apprenticeship. None of their faces wore the lines of struggle that Will knew his already did. None of their bodies told a tale of hunger or pain. Once their parent’s died, they had been granted a life of protection. Will wished he could ask them if they knew that. If they realized that their parents dying was the luckiest thing that could have happened to them. A flame of jealousy rose in his gut that he quickly tried to smother. He loved his father. He didn’t want him to be dead. He didn’t. He couldn’t. What kind of son would that make him if he did?

“The four of you may leave, I’d like to speak with Will and the craftmasters.” Baron Arald announced. With nods of acknowledgment, they all left, Jenny giving a reassuring squeeze to his arm before slipping out last. Once the door was shut Will felt the attention of everyone in the room narrow in on him.

“Right, now it’s your turn Will.” Arald motioned for him to speak.

“Uh, my name is Will Blackwood, my lords. And lady.” Will was fairly certain that Arald was the only man in the room that required the title “lord”, but he figured it was better to overdo it than to risk being disrespectful. The others could get away with it, after all, they had been raised here. Will was a nobody who was only standing here by the Baron’s generosity.

“And do you have a preferred line of work?”

“No. I’ve spent most my life in the fields, but I’m fairly handy. I’ve fixed up most things in my house, and the neighbor’s. I’m stronger than I look, and I’m not afraid of hard labor.” Will looked around at the imposing craftmasters, particularly to Lady Pauline from the diplomatic service and at the scribe school master, Nigel, and bit his lip in thought. With cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment he added honestly, “I’m not all that intelligent. I’d hate to have anyone here waste their time on me.”

An awkward silence weighed upon the group as they considered his admission. Taking pity on him, Lady Pauline stepped forward and rested a delicate hand on his shoulder. “Everyone has to start somewhere, Will. I can already tell that you don’t give yourself enough credit. You speak well for someone who hasn’t had many opportunities. If there is a path you’d like to take, I’m certain that you could be taught.”

Will shook his head, “That’s very kind of you to say, but I’m afraid it would be too much effort my lady.” He looked up at the Baron. “I’m sorry you went through all this trouble, but I’m not meant for these kinds of careers. If you know of a position in your fields or on the castle grounds, I’d be grateful, but I don’t expect anything other than an introduction to the overseer.”

Baron Arlad’s eyes softened. “Will, would you mind giving us a moment? If you could just step into the hall please.”

“I can go. I should go. I need to get-”

“Please don’t go, Will. Not yet. Just, wait.”

Will nodded and left the room. But as he pulled the knob, he left the door cracked, just a smidge. He wasn’t nosy by nature, always too consumed by his own life to have the time to sniff around someone else’s, but this was his life they were discussing, his future. He wanted to be prepared for what he’d walk back into. He leaned towards the door but made sure to keep out of sight from those within the room.

“Oh that poor child.” He heard Lady Pauline sigh. “Did you see his face? Who would do such a thing to that sweet boy?” Will tried to not feel patronized. He didn’t like being called a child, but she spoke so kindly that he couldn’t help but forgive her for it.

“From what I’ve gathered his home life is rather… difficult.” Will didn’t have to strain to hear the baron’s booming voice from the hall.

“Difficult how?” Will wasn’t sure but he thought it was the Battlemaster asking.

“His father-”

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you that it was rude to eavesdrop?”

Will nearly leapt out of his skin at the low voice speaking from behind him. He spun around to see the ranger from earlier standing in the hall.

“Sir! I just, I didn’t- I’m sorry. Please don’t- I’m sorry.” Will stammered, unable to finish a sentence as he tripped over his words.

“Learn what you were hoping to?” The ranger asked.

Will tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“If you are going to snoop, you should at the very least know what you’re after.”

“I just wanted to know what they were saying.”

The ranger sighed as though he was exercising a great deal of patience just to get through this conversation. “Yes, that is the general point of listening to other people's private conversations. But why did you want to know what they were saying?”

“Oh. Well, I suppose I wanted to be prepared to go back in. I don’t like walking into situations blind. If I knew what they were saying, I’d know what to say when they called me back in.” Will felt his face burn and he bowed his head in an attempt to hide the color rising on his face. He felt rather foolish admitting it. He knew he wasn’t the brightest, and having an extra bit of time to think of the right answer made him feel a bit better.

The ranger narrows his eyes slightly. “Why are you embarrassed by that?”

Will’s head whipped up at the question. “How did you-”

“It’s obvious. You aren’t exactly the best at hiding how you feel. Now, answer the question.”

“I’m stupid.” The words hurt to say but Will figured Halt had already come to that conclusion on his own. There would be no point trying to beat around the bush with a gentler way of phrasing it. “I don’t just know the right answer or the right thing to do. I need time to figure it out. I try to get as much information as I can before deciding. Sometimes it can take me a while.”

“Are you trying to explain thinking to me?” The man’s eyebrow cocked in what Will hoped was more amusement and not annoyance.

“Well, I mean it’s not-” Will cut himself off, finding himself unable to explain the difference between his thought process and the general idea of “thinking”.

“It’s called thinking Will. You would be amazed at how many people don’t understand that concept.”

“I guess I’m one of them.” Will mumbled.

“Will, the very fact that you made an effort to gather information to use to direct your actions proves that you are smarter than you think. After all, that’s essentially half a ranger’s job.”

“Wait, really?”

Halt sighed again. “Yes. What is it that you think we do?”

Will shrugged. “I don’t know. Sorcerer stuff.”

“And what exactly is “sorcerer stuff”?”

“Ya know,” Will wiggled his fingers in imitation of what he’d imagined casting a spell would look like. “Materializing out of shadows. Reading people's minds. Turning your enemies into frogs.”

“Frogs?”

“Is it actually toads? To be honest I’m not quite sure what the difference is. It can’t just be color, can it?”

Halt scrutinized him. “I can’t tell if you're pulling my leg or not.”

The edges of Will’s lips pitched up. “And here I thought you could read my mind.”

“Ranger’s aren’t mystical entities, Will. We are just men. Highly trained and observant men, but mere mortal men nonetheless.”

“Well, you could have fooled me. I don’t understand how you can just appear out of nowhere.”

“A key aspect to ranger training is learning to move unseen and in total silence.”

Will pursed his lips. “Like memorizing which floorboards creak, or lifting the door slightly so the hinges don’t squeak.”

Halt stared at him for a long moment. “Exactly. Among other tactics. Why do you know that?”

“There are lots of reasons to want to move around quietly.” Will said vaguely. His attention fell to the floor. He had started to pull back the curtain too much. He had no choice but to take Halt at his word that he couldn’t read people’s thoughts, but he obviously was a keen observer and could connect dots faster than the average person. Will didn’t need Halt looking too closely at his life.

“Do you think they’ll be done soon?” He asked, nodding towards the door.

“Any moment now I suspect.” And the moment the words left Halt’s lips, the door was pushed open.

“Come rejoin us, you two.” Baron Arald said.

“Rejoin? The ranger just got here.” Will frowned.

Arald smiled, “He had been in the room as long as you had Will. You just didn’t notice him.”

[bunnydracula]

hello, huge admirer of your work & words in general

do you have any advice/ just thoughs for artists in their early 20s trying to make a living off of their passions in the current climate? i think you have very interesting perspective

thank you for the lovely message! i must admit though this entire question is made up of phrases i generally (but compassionately, not indifferently) shrug my shoulders at.

i’m never sure what to say to people asking for career advice specifically, especially people whose particular circumstance and desired field i don’t know. i’m also not sure what to say to anyone in their early 20s that has to do with that life period in particular, since it’s so different for everybody. i have good friends in their early 20s as well as comics students that age, but i don’t have age-specific wisdom for them since i’m not that much older than they are! my early 20s were spent beginning my transition and working a string of back-breaking jobs that i would happen to quit at precisely the right time to qualify for lockdown-era increased unemployment benefits (BERNIE BUCKS!!!!). remember how the united states showed its hand that it could use all the superprofits that it extracts thru blood all around the world to create a cushy welfare state for millions of people but only did it for a few months (partly because it sought to increase repression again after the george floyd uprisings)? anyway.... during that brief period of financial peace i was able to shape up my portrait skills and find the beginnings of my voice as a cartoonist. i wish i could gift that to everybody. every person deserves periods of quiet to figure out what they're doing. the truth is just that i got very lucky. so i'm not interested in being an aspirational symbol if anyone is under the impression that my advice can guarantee an artmaking practice that might resemble the one i have found for myself. i guess when i think about your phrase, "make a living off of their passions", i just want to reassure you that no matter your circumstances, the value of your passions is not dictated by your ability to make a living off of them. like let's just unpack the phrase "make a living" and pause for a moment to feel just a smidgen of how violent this cultural pay-to-play arrangement is. whenever possible, you should make money in whatever way will crush your spirit the least while meeting the needs that you have. my priority is always pursuing the maximum amount of freedom; sometimes that means freedom from losing my mind about rent every month, so i need to pick up a few shifts as a house manager at a local theater. sometimes that freedom means thinking about hot draculas the entire time i'm working at the theater. sometimes it means ending a project! i also really want to encourage every artist, if i possibly can, to attempt in their every day life and in their work to divest from the REAL CAREER vs. HOBBY psychic binary as much as possible. always. forever, until the distinctions explode. the truth of the matter, as i understand it, is not just that the best things in life are free or fucking whatever, but that the most meaningful ways you can spend your time do not necessarily involve deliberately optimizing your goddamn personal brand. you never need to be embarrassed about not spending enough time doing art, as if your status as an artist is paid for in any kind of labor that you can simply increase until the A in Artist becomes capitalized. to believe that would require a belief that everyone who is universally regarded as an Artist has simply worked hard enough. that's a myth and we know better. what horseshit! and as an adult i have also learned that periods of deep rest are often more enriching to me than periods of work. and even when i am employed up to my gills i am always cultivating the wise and endless spirit of a NEET. i am passionate about my art but i am also passionate about my life, and i welcome art in when it is actually viable and beneficial for me to do so. the only actual art-career-specific advice i will tell everyone though is: think bigger than fame as a protective suit (like, thinking that if you can just get a big enough audience you will be OK forever) and solo-written graphic novels (or whatever the "look what i did all by myself" equivalent is in your industry) and the fucking psychic wedgie that is relying on commissioned illustrations to survive.

there are grants that you can discover via many search engines that may allow you to fund the art career you actually want. do you want to teach? you get to teach. do you want to host reading nights? you can do that, too. i cannot tell you how much time i wasted trying to squeeze the things i was actually interested in into an "art career" shape that had little to nothing to do with what actually fed my life.

also: other artists are the greatest gift to all artists. your contribution to something is never diminished by another person's work. i think the best way to come back to this for myself as a cartoonist is to just initiate jam comic sessions (drawing panels back and forth to create one-page stories). little else brings me back down to earth as fast as passing a piece of paper back and forth with @tomb-of-madeline lol

i hope any kernel of this is helpful to you. i wish you the best on your journey, and i'd love to know what you end up making if we connect again anytime in the future.*

*there is no deadline to anything i have said here. you do not need to impress me ever and certainly not anytime soon.

oh and if you are a comics person i have a three-part lecture available to watch for free called experimental mini-comics for all! a lot of what i’ve said here is also there if only in spirit lol my attitude towards artmaking is fairly consistent in these regards

ezra

[lolitakirstein]

Hey Neighbor Pt 8

A/N Sorry this is long with a lot of dialogue don't even know if it's good ugh

{previous}

cw: mentions of weapons wc: 1.5k

Toji

“A phone call in advance would’ve been nice,” Toji says, allowing his visitor to enter. 

“Couldn’t wait,” the man states, his hands clutching the briefcase behind his back. “This just came in and requires extraordinary expertise and precision.”

The two men walk to the kitchen, both taking seats opposite one another. Though in the intimate setting of his house, Toji knew he was here for business. “I take it you don’t want a drink.”

The man chuckles, “Perhaps once this is completed.” He sets the briefcase on the table and enters the 3-number key. “I would however like to see my godson. Where is—”

“SHIU!” Megumi rushes in excitedly. 

“Ah, there’s my boy,” Shiu bellows in equal excitement. The stoicism and business facade immediately fade.  He picks the child up with a grunt and sets him on his lap. “You are getting big, pup.”

Megumi giggles at the nickname. “I’m not a pup, I’m a wolf.” He mimics a wolf’s howl. 

Shiu pats his head, “Ah, the mighty wolf. Mostly prone to travel in large groups.” He glances up at Toji. “Though some are known to stray from the pack.”

Toji glares, aware of the obvious dig. 

“We’re not alone. We got you, Shiu,” Megumi’s comment breaks the tension. “And we got y/n,” he lowers his voice and leans into Shiu, “That's dad's girlfriend.”

“I see,” Shiu again stares at Toji, this time with a look of both confusion and annoyance. 

Toji responds with an eye roll. “Megs, go to your room for a bit. Gramps and I have some business things to do.”

“I am not gramps!” Shiu quickly blurts back, which sends Megumi into a fit of giggles. Toji, however, isn’t up to joke. He gives Megumi the look that quickly tells the child that this isn’t playtime. 

Once Toji hears the door to Megumi’s room shut, he takes a deep breath. “So, what are we looking at here.”

Shiu opens the briefcase, presenting Toji with a thick manila folder. “The usual. But the window of opportunity we have—”

“Me.” Toji corrects.

“You have is very small. Meaning—”

“I have one shot.” Toji finishes in a bored tone. “What else is new.”

“This target has been of interest for some time. Most who have gone after him are usually shot within a 500-foot radius.”

“So you need a sniper?”

“I did say we needed precision.”

“What’s his deal?” Toji asks, flipping through the folder. Pictures from CCTV footage and shakey smartphones paint a very broad image of the target—tall, slender build, blonde. 

“Big name in tech, took over after his father died. The other son is scorned, but you know we don’t go into too much detail, nor do we ask. They hire us and we do our job”

“I do the job,” Toji corrects, again. 

“And you do it well.”

“How long will I be gone?” Toji continues flipping through the files, pocketing the provided fake passport and plane ticket. 

“3 weeks, we want you to have ample time to scout the area. Where he goes and when. There can’t be any mistakes.”

“And my son?” Toji looks up from the papers. 

“Of course, he will be staying with me. You may be on the outskirts of our society, but we still wish to protect our own while they are working. Our in-house nanny is superb at her job, both as a sitter and protection. I provided you with her credentials as well.” he gestures to the pages. 

“That’s a long time away” Toji remarks. “How much is this man paying?”

“Though he’s not as wealthy as his older brother, his father left him a good chunk of money in his will—”

“How much,” Toji was getting impatient. 

“$500,000. And to show his confidence in you and apologies for the short notice,”  Shiu turns the briefcase around to Toji. “He made a downpayment.”

Indeed, the briefcase was lined with stacks of crisp 100s. Toji swallowed. He can’t remember the last time a client had paid a portion upfront. Collateral maybe, but never cash. 

“$300,000. Thats—”

“60%. That’s suspicious. Are you sure this isn’t a setup? Are you sure these aren’t fake or marked?” Toji gently runs a finger over the bills, feeling for the telltale sign that it's fake. 

“We had eyes on the bank.” Shiu answers, confidently. “So are you in?”

“Mind if I check,” Toji asks, still not convinced.

Shiu gestures to the money, “Be my guest. Though I’m rather insulted you would think I would fall for a scam.”

Ignoring him,  Toji walks to the hallway closet. The small space housed various coats and toys of Megumi’s. He pushes aside the clothes. The wall at the back of the closet would appear normal to anyone else–basic wood paneling. Toji traces his finger along one slat of the wood, finding the slight give and pressing it. 

 A small portion of the wall retracts, revealing a safe locked by a keycode. After entering the key code, the thick metal door opens. Inside are various passports, stacks of cash, guns, and accessories. He pushes aside the knives sheathed in sleek leather. Once finding the detector, he returns to the kitchen. 

Toji turns on the LED, aiming the purple light at the briefcase. The bills show up clean. “Nothing,” Toji grumbles.

“I told you,” Shiu crosses his legs. 

“Doesn’t mean the ones underneath aren’t or the one in between” Toji continues to scan the stacks, all turning up clean. After his meticulous searching, Toji turns off the light. “I’ll put it through the counter, check every single one–”

“You’ve always been thorough,” Shiu jokes, standing and straightening his suit jacket. “So are you in?”

Toji mulls it over. Finally, after a few moments, he complies, “Yeah, I’m in.”

“Great the car to pick Megumi up will arrive the night before. Flight information and itinerary are all there.” Shiu strides to the door, opens it, and stands on the front porch. His eyes are on y/n’s house. “Is she aware yet?”

“No, not yet,” Toji joins him on the porch.

Shiu widened his eyes. “What is causing the delay.”

“I” 'm trying to leave this way of life, why would I want to bring an innocent woman into it, regardless of contracts.” 

“She is rather…fawn-like. But I think with proper training she could be a great addition to carry on her family name,” Shiu takes a long drag, blowing smoke out of the corner of his mouth. “Or perhaps the two of you could produce—.”

“Megumi can carry my name just fine in a life that doesn’t consist of looking behind his back.” Toji retorted, narrowing his eyes.

“Of course. Megumi is an exceptional child. Regardless if his mother wasn’t of our kind, and remember, I fought for you harder than anyone to be able to live outside of this society. Luckily, the higher-ups thought you to be such a precious asset the thought of losing your…services is why you now live so comfortably on the periphery.” 

“Comfortably,” Toji tsks, “worrying about my son every second; how I’m going to be able to know he’s safe once he starts attending public school.”

“You could easily come back which would guarantee his safety at our school.” Shiu bargains. 

“I told you. I’m done with that life. Megumi will get a choice in what he wants to do with his life. He deserves it and so does she,” Toji jerks his head gesturing to y/n’s house. 

“She seems very…present in your life, already. Even Megumi seems to think so.” 

Toji rolls his eyes, “She’s been here a few times, that’s it. She watched Megumi one day and—”

“You put her in charge of watching Megumi? Very trusting of you.” Shiu interrupts, his cigarette dangling from his lips. 

“It was a few hours,” Toji said. “And he needs some female interactions every once in a while. I can’t play the role of mother very well.”

“Already considering her for a mother figure,” Shiu continues, smiling wryly. 

“Are we done here?” Toji turns back to the door, wanting to end the conversation. 

Shiu knows when to quit, at least, because he tips his head goodbye and lopes down the stairs, heading for his black sedan. 

He turns halfway before getting into the passenger side door that is being held open by a man in a similar suit though 30lbs worth of muscle heavier. “I do suggest you make her aware of your agreement with her grandmother. You know how our dear Mrs. Ruth hated a procrastinator.”

Toji doesn’t respond, instead, crossing his arms and waiting for the car to drive Shiu away. 

“And do not underestimate how powerful the two of you could be together. A child from two strong lines would be world-renowned.”

Again, Toji didn’t respond. He watches the driver return to the driver's seat and drive off down the road. Once sure he was indeed gone for good, Toji reenters his house. 

He doesn’t know how to broach the subject of his agreement with y/n. But 2 things were for damn sure. 

She would get a choice, unlike him. 

There was no fucking way any child of his, either the one he has now or any in the future, would be ever handed over to the people he was trying to leave behind.

[maxdibert]

I'm about to study law rn and I have quite the dilemma rn because I've been wanting to become a judge since I was 6 but then I saw you talking about your job and the studies you took to become what you are now so I lwk wanna become that too so I wanted to come to you to ask what you think, like what you think are the pros and cons of both jobs (if you know abt judges' lives and job) and what you would recommend me to choose

I’m not sure how it works in your country, but here, becoming a judge is done through public exams. Once you finish your degree, you start preparing for the judiciary exams, which are among the most demanding and difficult in the legal field, along with those for prosecutors and notaries. People literally drop everything to focus on passing these exams because the syllabus is extensive, and they are extremely hard to pass. I understand that this isn’t the case everywhere, but personally, I never considered becoming a state official precisely because the idea of spending three to five years locked up studying non-stop, without working, was literally agonizing for me.

I have friends who are still preparing for these exams, and honestly, they’ve gone through a lot of crises along the way. One of them passed the prosecutor exam but lost almost ten kilos in the process—it’s really tough and requires an enormous amount of work. So, for me, it’s just not something I could do. Besides, I’ve always been more of an action-oriented person. In fact, I pursued Law and Political Science because my goal was to become a labor lawyer and work defending dissatisfied employees from companies in a specific sector. So… I don’t know, in the end, being a judge has its advantages—the salary is amazing, and the job is somewhat (somewhat) more stable. It’s true that it’s very difficult to get there, but if you dedicate yourself to it and have the resources and financial support to focus on studying, then it’s definitely worth it. It’s just never appealed to me personally, and the idea of studying that much for so many years always felt like too much. I don’t know if it’s the same where you’re from, but anyway.

I specialized in criminal law, and honestly, you need a certain vocation for this. Anything related to social services—whether it’s social work, caregiving, nursing, medicine… all of these fields require a calling. You either love it, or you can’t stand it—there’s no middle ground. It’s the same with being a criminal lawyer: you either truly enjoy what you do, or you won’t be able to handle it, because you’ll encounter really tough situations, people who have been through incredibly hard times, and some truly horrible things. It’s tough, and it’s not just about being strong or having a tough character—it’s simply about whether or not you can mentally handle it.

I’ve met people who are considered “tough” but couldn’t deal with it, and then others who you’d never think could work in this field but manage with incredible composure. In the end, it really depends on your ability to distance yourself from certain things. If you can do that and you actually enjoy the work, it’s really rewarding. I’ve handled cases for people who have been absolute disasters in life—reckless, troublemakers, outright awful people—but then they truly appreciate you just for being there, even if it’s just accompanying them to court hearings.

I love what I do, but a lot of my law school classmates and friends tell me they couldn’t handle it. Just like I couldn’t handle being in an operating room like one of my best friends, who’s a nurse. In the end, it’s all about personality.

If you’re set on studying law, I’d say go for it, and if you’re interested in different fields, sign up for courses, do internships or volunteer work, and see how it feels. From there, you can decide. I always tell people starting university not to stress too much about choosing a path, because you never really have everything figured out. I wasn’t sure what I really wanted to do until my third year, you know? My dream had always been to take on a huge, high-profile case against an exploitative multinational corporation and win, but life took me in another direction. The important thing is to try different things, see what you like and what you don’t.

I found my vocation by attending a course with people in social reintegration programs in prison, which is why I say it’s important to sign up for different things and gain experience.

[agirlwithglam]

Hey, I'd like to ask your opinion on something. I'm currently looking for a job but I'm not sure what job I would enjoy. I have a degree in Tourism, worked 2 years as a receptionist in a small hotel and 1 in a museum (it's not that i chose to leave these jobs but the contracts were just over) but I'm not excited of this career, I would like something different. I can't do jobs that are too physical because my physical condition doesn't allow it much as I've had a disease in the past. I'm really not sure what job I can do, I'm precise and I know English (it's not my first language) but apart that idk. I've googled the list of jobs to have an idea but wasn't helpful as I don't find any of them enthusiastic and most of them seems physical tiring. What would you recommend?

Hey!! I’m so sorry this was late but if ur still around and u need advice, here’s some fun jobs that fit your requirements:

fashion designing (you don’t really need to do anything except just sit and draw dresses. If you don’t know how to draw dresses, search up on YouTube!)

Artists (it’s really fun! Literally anything can be $7 billion dollar art these days…)

Writer (this is amazing!! All you need to do is sit at a desk and write. You can write about anything that fascinates you! Your story, fiction, self help. And if you want also you can always start with just making mini ebook)

[nickgerlich]

Machine Language

It is one of the most contentious of debates hitting retailers and restaurateurs these days. In their attempt to modernize and incorporate technology at every turn, they invariably wind up offending some customers’ sensibilities, as well as confusing those who no have tech savvy.

And then there are people like me who embrace all the change and have no problem using technology to make my life easier, which I am sure also benefits the business. Bring it, please, and hurry.

I could only be talking about self-serve kiosks, the touch screens and self-scanners that cause people to lose their minds over on social media. They fear jobs being lost and all manner of hypothetical ills. Maybe that’s just a cover for their inability to navigate the onscreen menus, but either way, there has been a line drawn in the sand between those who love and those who hate these things.

But a recent report yields a surprising conclusion: They’ve not been nearly as bad as some speculated, and all those fears of job losses simply did not materialize. In fact, by letting customers do the mundane part of the transaction—the ordering—it frees up employees to perform other essential tasks that help improve the customer experience.

The benefits of self-serve kiosks, especially in restaurants, are significant. The service level is consistent, removing the human element. Variability both within and between employees is removed by machines that always pitch the upsell at the precise same moment, and customized for each customer. In fact, with AI, it can be better than humans, because the order can be analyzed up to that point and relevant add-ons proposed that fit what the customer ordered.

It’s much better than just “Would you like fries with that shake?” No, now the machine-driven order taker can notice that you ordered a specific type of sauce to go on your taco, and would you like more?

Although fast food is not my thing, I confess to occasionally stopping at a Taco Bell while on long road trips, because I know that I can get bespoke burritos all courtesy of their kiosks. I can add this, delete that, to a far greater degree than you can do just standing there talking to a human, because the majority of the add-ons aren’t even on the menu. Well, not the one hanging on the wall behind the clerk. I am in and out of there in 10 minutes, and back on the road. Avocado and black beans? Yes, please.

Of course, there are downsides to kiosks. If you replace the human interaction aspect completely, thereby forcing customers to use the machines, there may be pushback. Some people are simply intimidated by them, and require assistance. This slows down the process. And, a study has shown that if there is a line at the machines, the same thing happens as when there’s a line to order with a human: We get cranky and order less. Or walk out.

As for supermarkets and other retailers with self-check kiosks, there is the increased risk of theft. It’s just too easy, especially with savvy thieves who tap the screen such that it thinks you are weighing bananas, but in fact laying a T-Bone steak on the scale, it’s easy to see how stores can wind up losing money.

As for me, I am a huge advocate of the self-serve kiosks. I don’t go shopping for chit-chat. I want to expedite everything. I also like packing my own groceries into my reusable shopping bags. Since I have Walmart+, I can simply scan a QR code when I’m ready to leave, and it charges the card I have on file within the app. Easy peasy. Call me a control freak, but I have this down. You can thank COVID for this. I cut my teeth on the system back then, and am now pro level.

I suspect that line in the sand is also a demarcation between younger and older shoppers, those most open to, and resistant to, change. Ooooh. There’s that word again. I use it a lot in every one of my classes. It’s a generational thing, digital natives versus the geezers who have spent their entire lives trying to keep up with all the changes around them.

It’s understandable, and to be honest, my students, you may very well just be geezers in training. I won’t be around, but please do a self-check—the personal reflection kind—when you hit 65. You may find yourself resisting technology that hasn’t even been invented yet.

Meanwhile, I have to make a Walmart run soon, probably later today. And you know where I will be when it’s time to wrap it up.

Dr “In And Out” Gerlich

Audio Blog

[selormohene]

day 14 (monday, july 17th 2023)

On developing agency. I’m not sure why this is something I feel like I’ve had so much trouble with. I think that there may have been physiological causes to a lot of it (i.e. getting severely depressed and having sleep issues in college and so on and so forth), combined with not feeling integrated enough into my social world and for whatever reason feeling like things weren’t open to me in college in the way that they were in high school. The whole comp process I think turned me off a lot of things, as did the general personalities of the people I encountered. I don’t know how long I’m going to feel like this or what I’m going to do about it, especially because now I feel like even the adjacent possible social worlds in which I find myself embedded — the general kinds of people of whom my immediate acquaintances form a cross-section, or the friends of acquaintances who are most likely to become part of my subsequent groups of friends — aren’t too different from the sorts of milieux which I’ve found so ill-fitting all this while. I feel like if I were better integrated into my life, in a way that’s hard to characterise precisely, but which, for instance, I feel like my life in high school exemplified rather well, the sort of agency which I want to have more of would just come along naturally.

One thing I’m learning is that even though many mental blocks may well stem from deep Freudian unconscious reasons, a lot of them really just manifest a preference for stasis, and from the inside it can be hard to know which is which. This is especially true when it comes to wanting to do certain things or to change certain things about your life — to dress better, to get better at socialising, to pick up a new hobby, etc. Of course, there may be an unconscious ego-related dimension to these things — feeling attached to the kind of person one currently is, or not wanting to be the kind of person who undertakes certain measures to become a different kind of person, or whatever. Some of it may simply be avoidance of mustering the activation energy required to make certain sorts of changes to one’s life. But as is the case with all sorts of activation energy-related issues, once you start it’s almost always not too difficult to keep going, and sometimes it takes an external shock to get you into a new mode of being. 

Anyway, this summer has constituted some version of that shock, especially when it comes to spending money in general, and in particular on the sorts of things that would attend my becoming the sort of person I want to become. I feel like I’ve long had an ascetic or frugal streak and although part of it might find expression in all sorts of language or ideology around virtue a lot of it has to do with having had those habits inculcated in me, not feeling like it was worth my spending a certain amount on myself, wanting to hold on to whatever money I had, or whatever. (Which is weird because there certainly are things I will spend money on almost without a second thought. Concerts, for instance. So perhaps the distribution of things I’ll spend money on does have various psychological components to it, who knows.) This is partly due to having had obligations to spend more money than I usually would, and partly realising that people have done the same for me in the past and really the point of money is to be spent, etc., and partly seeing examples of people whose spending habits are more fully integrated with their vision of the good life, in particular whose fashion choices serve as a reminder that “wait a minute, you can literally dress like this and it won’t cost all that much, certainly no more than the money you’d otherwise spend on stuff that you wouldn’t feel as nice in, and you probably won’t look ridiculous or like you’re trying too hard, and if you do you can just take it slowly and it’s not a big deal.” I feel this way about things like travel as well — there are a lot of places I could probably just compile documents and apply for visas to visit. One or two plane tickets a year really won’t kill me. (My spending habits are integrated with my vision of the good life only in a fragmentary way, but I’m trying to make that integration more total by being willing to spend more on things that I’d like to have in my life, and being more intentional about cutting out things I don’t really need, and investing more in long-term things, and so on. But I think this would partly require also investing the required amount of time and effort in things that are important to me, which would justify my spending money on them. So studying math in a concentrated manner has made quite a difference in this regard as well.)

Weirdly enough, writing this entire post going on about how I need to spend more money has made me feel rather uncomfortable in a way I didn’t think it would. I also do want to make a higher income so that much of this wouldn’t be a problem, but I also feel an obligation to give away much more of my money than I currently do. For whatever reason my feelings around giving people money, especially when they ask for it, are also kidn of screwed up, partly (I’m sure) due to the feeling of infringement on my autonomy, or lack of reciprocity or gratitude, or just the transactional feeling of having money spent on me, and so on. But it’s good to know that these things are in there and to externalise them to some extent. Perhaps, after having attempted to make them explicit, and after having externalised them (and the two are different, because the process of working through is different from the work that is then achieved), I can get some good sleep and my unconscious mind can do what it does.

I’m not sure whether the increased clarity and relative lack of neurosis I’ve been feeling lately has a direct causal antecedent in this whole diary thing. I feel like it does, but I also feel like it might just have to do primarily with a culmination of having taken steps to fix various health issues I’ve been experiencing for a long time. Perhaps it’s just a combination of everything coming together in the right time. Either way, I’m happy about it. I just hope it continues.

[pissfizz]

I’ve never really considered my tremors a disability but holy shit it is isn’t it