#i wish this fandom had fun with rare pairs more often cause its so fun just make your faves kiss i promise its good for your brain

[italianventi]

the yapper and the listener

[writings-of-a-hufflepuff]

How Longingly I Look Upon You

Fandom: The Mandalorian

Collection/Series: Western AU- Putting Down Roots

Pairing: Sheriff Din Djarin x Female Teacher Reader

Writer: @writings-of-a-hufflepuff aka @hufflepuffing-all-day-long

Rating: G

Warnings: N/A

Summary: Valentine’s Day is a holiday you love, for it’s celebration of tenderness and appreciation. It matters very little that you never have a partner to share it with. This Valentine’s Day the Sheriff offers an opportunity, a potential, something you never thought he’d do. 

Notes: This took me way too long to finish thanks to work, but I hope it was worth the nearly 2 month wait! 

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Mando’a Translations:

Ba’vodu - Aunt/uncle Cyar’ika - darling/sweetheart (with Paz, i’m using this informally in a way you’d call your friends babe or love as a term of endearment but non-romantic) Ne shab’rud’ni - don’t fuck with me Cyare - beloved, loved Mesh’la - beautiful Cabur’ika - Lit. Little Guardian, but Din’s term of endearment for reader after ‘Never Mess With a School Teacher’ because she is a true guardian of her kids. Mandokarla - having the ‘right stuff’ basically being truly mandalorian in spirit.

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

Valentine’s day was a holiday you actually quite enjoyed. It was a day to celebrate love, whether Eros, romantic love, Agape, unconditional love, Philia, affectionate love, or even Philautia, self-love. For you it had always been a day to celebrate the people in your life and while certainly you’d never had a suitor or a courtship during Valentine’s day, that hadn’t mattered so much. You filled your life with love for your family, even if they were now gone, love for your friends, and love for your students. It mattered very little in the end, Valentine’s day was a day for love in all its forms and for you, it was a joy. A joy to teach your students about the day, about the significance, to watch them create cards for their families, and see the red faces and giggling laughter when one of your students braved the walk across the classroom to hand a gift to another. Rather than dwell on what was missing, you chose to focus on all the joy that the day brought. 

Today was no different, you had gone into your school house the day before. Spent your Sunday afternoon hanging red and pink bunting, crafty paper hearts and cupids. You wanted every holiday for your children to be worthwhile, to feel like a special day and part of that was decoration. The school house looked like a Valentine’s dream and the lessons for the day were to centre around the same theme. You would cover the history of Valentine’s day and St Valentine, work on mathematical problems in a Valentine’s context, create Valentine’s cards and write stories about great romances and read some of the best love poems that great poets had produced. 

You had even gone with a colour scheme of red and pink for your outfit that day, despite your mother often saying you shouldn’t mix the two. Your dress was neatly ironed, almost gaudy in its Valentine’s nature, but fun. Your mother would have no doubt said that the lace and frills, the large puff sleeves, were all a bit much. Much too gaudy for you, a simple school teacher to wear. You wore it anyway because that was how you wanted it. Gaudy, happy, joyful, and overly extravagant for a day teaching. It was flattering, following your silhouette and grazing the ground gently. You had placed little delicate pink flower pins in your hair, surrounding your high updo. You had even rouged your cheeks, something which you rarely did anymore, usually much too busy. 

You’re at the schoolhouse door smoothing down your skirts when you see the first of your childrens making their way down the main street. Lunch pails are flying behind them, skirts and ribbons whistling in the wind as they run. You greet each of your children with a bright smile and a ‘Happy Valentine’s day!’, like clockwork, as part of their routine they hang their coats, scarves and hats on the coat hooks by the door and settle into their seats, pulling out slates, books, pencils and chalk. They begin to chat amongst themselves as they wait for you and the lesson to begin. You had them well trained and so allowed them the time to chat knowing they’d listen up the moment you called for it. 

Little Grogu is the last to arrive, running on little legs beside Din who always walks him to school in the morning before beginning his day as Sheriff. The little boy wraps his arms around your legs in greeting before wandering in with a wave to his father. While he can speak and you’ve witnessed it more and more, he is generally mute, preferring to use other forms of communication. You’ve noticed this little quirk of his, but don’t mind. If he would rather not speak that’s fine, so long as he’s progressing in his school work then you have little to worry about. 

“Happy Valentine’s day, Din.” You tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ears, a little nervous to wish him a happy Valentine’s Day, oddly enough. All these months of knowing him and he still makes you nervous, not in a bad way. It had gotten worse since that kiss in the school house, the nerves of wanting him but not being sure if that kiss had truly meant more to him causing you to become shy when near him. You feel completely and utterly safe with Din, yet at the same time feel that bubble of excitement and nerves in your stomach, that roiling sensation you’ve not felt since you were a child with a crush. You wanted him to see you as more than just Grogu’s teacher but as a woman, an unmarried woman, a woman he could potentially see himself with. A future wife. While he’d expressed interest in courting you that day, nothing had happened since whether he’d changed his mind or the busyness of life had taken over, you weren't sure. You had never thought much on the prospect of marriage, despite your mother’s many warnings, you had simply not cared all that much. You had decided to live your life on your terms, as much as possible, but Din...Din was a man you could see yourself marrying. 

It had grown over the months of knowing him from an objective enjoyment of his features, an acceptance that he was an incredibly handsome man and kind as well, into what you could only describe as longing. The beginnings of something greater, something akin to love. Din was everything you could ever want in a prospective husband, prospective father of your future children. He was handsome, so much so that you were ashamed of the thoughts that on occasion, usually in the quiet of the night, ran through your mind. He was kind and caring, a surprisingly gentle man despite his broad shoulders, large hands, and more violent profession. Ex-bounty hunters weren’t known for their softness and yet that was the only way to describe how he treated you and the children. He was gentle in voice, never raising it around you, never shouting or yelling, he chose his words carefully. He was soft in the way that he allowed the children to sit in his lap as he told stories or helped them down from trees when they got stuck. He was kind in that he was always caring for you, whether making sure you were given adult company during the school day or ensuring you ate after a long day without stopping. He was protective, but not overbearing. Kind and soft, but not weak. He would make a wonderful husband, that is something you were utterly sure of and you knew that you were not the only unmarried woman in town who’d turned their gaze to him. 

So it made you nervous to wish him a happy Valentine’s day because on a day of love, he was someone you wanted to celebrate and yet found yourself too nervous to do so. It wasn’t becoming, it wasn’t ladylike to take that first step, that first plunge into the unknown world that was love. Despite that spontaneous and daring kiss you found yourself thinking of your mother and shying away from making another attempt. Your mother, God rest her soul, had always made it a notable detail, a finer point in the plan of your life. You would be approached by a man, not the other way around, and you would ultimately make the decision as to whether you wished to be courted by him with the intent to marry or whether you did not. Despite breaking tradition in the way you taught your children, this was something you didn’t have the courage for. Not again. While Din had expressed interest in you all those months back, the time between had seen nothing but his usual friendly behaviour. It made you conscious of your behaviour and the risk of getting hurt. If Din had an interest in you as a potential spouse, a riddur as he told you once, then he would have to make the next move. 

Now standing before you with one hand behind his back and the other holding his hat by his stomach he looked infinitely more nervous than you expected for simply dropping off Grogu to school. There was a hint of red to his cheeks, the tips of his ears, his deep brown eyes darted around, from the floor to your own, before looking over your shoulder. You hadn’t truly seen him like this, this nervousness was unusual for him and you could have sworn he’d combed his hair with some pomade, an attempt to neaten the unruly dark curls that you thought were quite dashing on him. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Miss Y/N,” You frown at the formality, confused as to why he isn’t calling you cabur’ika like he usually does. The formality of calling you miss had dissolved almost the moment you met him and it was strange coming from his lips after so much familiarity between you. He has only ever called you miss when talking to the children about you.

For Din, he has never felt quite as nervous as in this moment. Perhaps it’s the time that’s elapsed that does it. When he kissed you he meant it, he meant his intent to court you, but his job had become busier over the months after...and in truth, he had doubts about his worth. He was unsure if he was truly enough for you. He felt ungentlemanly, improper, too rough. For months he’d been struggling with whether or not he was good enough for you, he knew you wanted to be courted by him, but was it the right thing for you? After months of soul searching, a healthy dose of want and longing every time he saw you with the children or whenever you smiled at him, he’d decided that it was your choice to make. He wanted to be with you and maybe he wasn’t damn good enough, maybe he wasn’t the man that should get to be with you, but if you wanted him then he wasn’t strong enough or selfless enough to or cold enough to do anything but love you. 

“I...I have something for you, it ain’t much but I…well…” The flush to his cheeks grows deeper, a bright beaming red that screams against his bronzed skin. From behind his back he pulls his arm, hand outstretched towards you. He knows there’s a subtle shake to his arm, nerves at bearing his heart open, however, subtly, racing through his blood. More adrenaline than he’s felt anywhere but in a gunfight.

There, clutched tight between the fingers of his left hand is a beautifully bound book, green leather cover and gilded words, tucked between the pages you can see an envelope just peeking out at the top. You gently take it from his hands with your left, the meaning of that burned into your memory from lessons with your mother. To give and receive a gift with the left hand is to recognise and accept an active interest in oneself. The weight of it has your heart pounding in your chest, almost violently so against your ribs. You read the cover, ‘The Complete Poetical Works of Walt Whitman’, the tears gather in your eyes before you have any time or thought to stop them. There’s a blind panic that fills Din’s chest, like the blaring of a ship’s foghorn in his mind, at the sight of tears collecting in your eyes. There’s a moment of genuine fear, that he’s somehow messed up, that he’s caused you to become upset. 

Walt Whitman was the poet you used to read with your father every evening after he finished a long day of work, his works are some of your favourite, some of the most important to you, but you’ve never been one to spend money on yourself. You often spend your wage, what little of it you have, on items for the school, books for the children, a globe, an anatomical skeleton. You have a small copy of his works, old and worn, some pages missing. This book means more to you than you think Din knows. Afterall, Walt Whiteman is a well known poet and books are one of the few perfectly acceptable gifts to give to a woman that you are not married or engaged to. It was presumptuous to assume that the gift had any added meaning behind it. Foolish your late mother might have even said in her damning indictment of romance. 

“How did you know?” You clutch the book tight to your chest, heart aching with happiness and longing, that this man had given this to you, on Valentine’s of all days. It brings burning heat to your cheeks, a stutter to your heart, a dryness to your mouth. This is a step that you had dreamed, hoped of, that move towards something more. This was confirmation that he meant it all those months back, that he intended to court you and hadn’t had a change of heart. 

“You...he’s the poet you mention the most when you’re teaching the little ones, cabur’ika” You realise what this is, what this all means. He isn’t just a kind sheriff or your friend, he’s an unmarried eligible man showing you that he’s paid attention to you, that he’s interested. There’s a shift, a shift from the easy friendship to a new undercurrent of tension at the unspoken understanding between the two of you, at the prospect of courtship that he’s extending towards you. It’s not a marriage proposal, it’s not marriage, but it’s an offer to begin on the road towards that. It is confirmation that the kiss you’d shared hadn’t been a mistake, a whim, something fleeting and insubstantial.

It makes your heart flutter in your chest at the prospect that Din Djarin is putting his foot forward, extending a possibility, an opportunity, a potential future. That out of all the unmarried women in town Din was actively showing interest in you. He could have picked any number of beautiful, intelligent, eligible women to show interest in, to potentially court, but he’d chosen you. The weight is added at the prospect that he’s not just offering you a marriage, but a family, because little Grogu is part of his world, part of his life and you would never want anything less. 

“Thank you, Din...I...Thank you.” You feel a little lost for words, they’re stuck in your throat, knowing that there are so many things you wish to say but so many things you can’t say.

“I should leave you to your teaching, Miss Y/N. I…” There’s a pause as he thinks over the words in his mind, and stops himself. Din is a fool for you, that he is certain, but the last thing he wants at that moment is to make a larger fool out of himself. So he places his hat back atop his head and says, “Happy Valentine’s Day.” 

You watch as he says a sweet goodbye to Grogu, kneeling briefly on the ground to touch his forehead to the boy’s before reminding him to ‘be good’ for you.

The envelope is a temptation, sticking out from the top of the book, it calls for you to open it in that instant. But, you don’t, smiling at Din as he walks down the street towards the sheriff’s office, you turn back to head inside, Grogu walking with you to his seat, ready for you to teach the class. Despite the nagging desire to see what letter, what words lie in that envelope, you place the book atop of your desk and begin your day of teaching. You attempt to put the letter to the back of your mind, to keep the thoughts of being courted by Din at bay so that you can effectively teach, but you know you are distracted. 

The children are just as unfocused as you, the day goes both fast and slow with dramatics abound. Jonah receives at least 5 love letters, Grogu catches a frog for little Mary-Beth and your entire class takes time to gift you with a drawing by themselves of you and the entire class. 

Despite a whole class to distract you, you find it hard to teach, your eyes drifting back to your desk. That unassuming little envelope poking out from beneath the pages of a little poetry book that means more to your soul than you can possibly put into any sort of words. You find yourself thinking ahead, of the future, of Din. If he did indeed wish to court you, to go down that path of potential and intended marriage, then he was truly to be part of your future, he and Grogu. 

There was no doubt in your mind that you’d accept such a proposition, that you wanted him in your future. Din was your friend, something that had taken very little time in truth. From the moment you’d met him and his son, he’d managed easily to worm his way into your affections without even a thought to do so. He was kind, competent, caring. He was good with children. Respected you, your intelligence and your authority in your classroom. While he happily joined you to tell stories to the children he would always defer to you and respect your right to dictate what happened inside your school house. He helped when you needed it, but never jumped so eagerly to help that he took over when you did not need it. While he was certainly quiet, had a temper hidden beneath it all and a danger to him that you’d seen on the few occasions he felt the town or it’s occupants were in danger, he had never made you feel anything but safe and secure. He had proven himself competent the moment he stepped into town, arranging your school house to be built and demanding the respect of every inhabitant. He had done more for you in the months you’d known him than anyone else had done in years. 

He, in truth, captured your attention unlike any other person you’d ever met. You had always had an abstract desire for love, marriage, a family. But, no one had ever caught your attention, no man had ever been thought of as a potential father to your children or life companion. Din from the start had you take notice, you couldn’t quite comprehend the idea that he wanted to potentially marry you of all people. 

He had his fair share of admirers, in a small town like your own, he was the man that stood out the most and one of the most handsome. He had a lot of eyes on him at all times and you assumed that he knew it, some were less subtle and ladylike than others. You knew he’d received a few propositions, something your mother would have been horrified at, but he’d yet to accept a single offer. To receive one from him, meant that out of all the people lined up outside the sheriff’s office begging for his attention, he’d chosen you. Something which excited you. 

It’s on your lunch break, the children running around outside, that you finally have time to pull the envelope from its resting place between pages of inked words and sit with it. When you retrieved it from between pages of poetry, you had found yourself faced with little dried and pressed flowers between the pages of Walt Whitman’s works. A little additional that made a smile crawl across your lips. You’re sitting on the front steps, watching the kids play, one eye on them, the other on the unassuming letter in your hands. Grogu has come to join you, toddling up the steps on little legs before plonking himself down next to you, leaning his chubby cheek into your arm. 

“Shall we see what your buir has written, mm?” You ask the little boy, he grins up at you at the mention of his father, he’s missing a couple of his baby teeth right at the front and the gap adds to the sheer adorable nature of the boy. You don’t know how much he knows, but Grogu has always seemed to know more than he let on, to understand the world around him better than most. There was always an intelligence behind those big eyes that made you think he knew more than either you or Din. 

The envelope is unassuming, just a cream coloured piece of paper, neat cursive writing along the front spelling out your name. You’ve never seen Din’s handwriting before and it speaks of someone who received a decent education, hours of being drilled on the correct way to hold a dip pen, how to form each letter. There’s a hesitation to the writing that speaks of someone who hasn’t had reason to write in a while, a little judder to the letters. You trace a fingertip over your name, how it looks in his hand, black ink stark against cream paper. It looks pretty when he’s writing it, you think. 

You turn over the envelope and slide a finger underneath the lip of it, careful to open it and not tear the paper in your haste. You glance up briefly at the sound of a yell, seeing that Jerome is fine and just laughing with the others, red in the face from receiving a kiss to the cheek, you turn your gaze to the folded letter that you pull from it’s confines. 

It takes everything within you to keep your composure as you read the letter. There is a girlish part of you that wishes to giddily squeal, throw the page into the air and run around in circles to express the sudden burst of energy that fills you. Instead, you sit there calmly, fingers and hands shaking as your eyes dart across the page following each line, hungry for the next. 

Dearest cabur’ika, Y/N, 

In truth I do not know how to write this letter to you, but it felt less forward and presumptuous to put my thoughts onto paper than to speak them to you clearly and in the open where the town gossip would get involved. I do not want you to feel forced to return my affections or embarrassed by them. While we’ve shared a kiss and i’ve expressed my intent towards you in the past, it has always been private, quiet and anything but bold. It has always left room for doubt, uncertainty and movement. You deserve surety. 

I have never been nor will I ever be a poet or a writer. I am a former bounty hunter, a sheriff, a mandalorian. I was raised to fight, to defend, not to write poetry or put down my thoughts and feelings into prose. I apologise if this letter is less than you dreamed of. If it fails to live up to lofty expectations or childhood dreams. 

I wish to make it plain and clear to you that I find you to be beautiful. Not just in form, or face, but in soul. You are a protector, a guardian, a caregiver and teacher. From the moment I met you you treated myself and my son with a kindness that I doubt I will ever forget. You have enchanted me in body, soul and mind. When I kissed you in the schoolhouse it was not on a whim, nor was it a false promise. I had and have every intent to court you, to one day marry you. I apologise that I have been distant or allowed room for doubt to grow.

I am eager to see but a glimpse of you in the day, to make you smile or offer you some respite. I am eager to hear your voice even as you talk about topics I have no interest in. I am eager to be in your presence, to see the kindness with which you treat each of your children and the sweetness of your smile, the fierceness of your nature when called upon to protect your class. In the words of Walt Whitman, ‘you do not know how longingly I look upon you’.You are mandokarla, built with the soul of a warrior, the kindness of a mother, and the mind of a teacher. Perhaps my words are too strong or forward, perhaps you do not share my feelings, but I wish to lay my intentions at your feet. I do not wish to presume you return these feelings, perhaps that kiss was a moment of weakness, perhaps your feelings have changed. But I cannot in good conscience go on as we have. 

I wish to step out with you, I wish to court you for the town to see, to one day marry you. If you ever allowed me such an opportunity I think I might be the luckiest of men, to have you join me in equal partnership as my riddur. To wake each morning to your smile, to raise our children and Grogu with you. To help you at your weakest and stand and watch you at your strongest. I long to build a life with you. 

I ask, will you allow me the great honour of courting you?

If you do not feel the same then I shall end my pursuit, I shall respect your feelings or lack thereof and we shall be friends, as we have been. But, please, consider my words. I would be blessed if you ever saw me worthy of you, you would not just be an excellent riddur, but a loving buir to Grogu. If I did not feel seriously about you I would not make this offer. But, the choice is yours and I shall respect it no matter what your decisions may be. 

Yours with love and affection, 

Din Djarin

The shake to your breath comes from a good dose of shock and giddiness that collide together inside of your chest like two wagons that haven’t been watching where they were going. It’s not a proposal, but it is a proposal at the same time. There is a giddiness that fills you knowing that Din wishes to step out with you, that he wishes to show the town his intention to one day marry you, that he has affection past that of friendship for you. It’s the giddiness that comes from returned affections, shared interest, you no longer feel as if you are the only one gazing at the other, that your feelings are unrequited. It feels as if all that worry, all that doubt had been for naught, simply a foolish girlish thing to do. How had you ever doubted his intentions towards you? 

“Miss, it’s time for history…” It’s Annie standing in front of you, hands on her hips to remind you that you need to call the children in, that has you hastily folding the letter and pocketing it, picking Grogu up and resting him on your hip as you rise. You, as most teachers, do not have the time to be giddy or dwell on love confessions during the school day. 

The day drags on in its last moments. Your desire to return home, to write a carefully crafted response, to find some sort of gift in addition, has you counting the seconds, minutes, and hours as they slowly tick by. Your children can tell you are unfocused and they become incredibly distracted as a result, but despite this you can’t find it in yourself to be frustrated or irritated, not today of all days when your patience with them has been extended by your supernaturally good mood. 

When Din collects Grogu at the end of the day you give him your sweetest smile and thank him earnestly for the letter. He isn’t sure what it means. It’s not an outright rejection or acceptance and despite the burning desire in his chest to receive an answer, he knows how to be patient, tipping his hat at you and offering to walk you home as a gentleman does. 

It isn’t unusual for Din to walk you home after the school day ends, even on nights where you stay late at school he often comes back with Grogu to walk you as the dark sets in. He has never been anything but a gentleman when it comes to making sure you get home safe even in a small town where very little happens and you know everyone. Still, you’ve always appreciated the gesture and you do now, even if wrapping your arm through his and walking side by side takes on a new tension, a new feeling.  

There’s a little thought in the back of your mind, niggling, that you can’t quite get rid of. The thought that this is what your little family could look like if all goes well. That you, with your arm wrapped through Din’s, hands in the crook of his elbow, and him, with Grogu on his hip, little arms wrapped around his neck, could easily be a future image of a family. Not just the Sheriff, a single father, walking the school teacher home because he’s polite and gentlemanly. 

“Thank you again, for the letter and the poetry book. I...you don’t understand how much it all means to me, Din. I...I want to respond properly, take my time….I.” The air is cold, as it always is in early February, but your entire body feels warm as you try to explain that you’re not rejecting his offer. You don’t want him to doubt for a second that you intend to say yes, but it doesn’t feel right to say it. There’s a desire to take your time, to write a heartfelt reply, to ensure that the time he took for you, you take in return. 

“You ain’t gotta tell me right away. It’s okay to take your time, mesh’la.” The reassurance has your shoulders dropping, a sense of relief, the removal of pressure. Any fear you had that Din would grow impatient dissipates and you're reminded once more of how safe you feel with him. Both physically and emotionally. He is a calming, solid presence. There is nothing fickle or finicky about Din and that is a relief when so much of your social world is confusing to navigate. 

“Thank you.” You tell him earnestly, drawing closer to him as you walk. Your side pressed fully into his, hip to hip, arm to arm. You cannot truly comprehend Din Djarin, the many elements that make him a better man than most, but you don’t think you have to fully comprehend him to enjoy being around him, to find comfort in him. Perhaps it will take years for you to fully understand who he is, but you like to believe you’ll get the time to do so. To learn him just as well as he seems to have learnt you. 

Your home isn’t particularly large. When you first came to town the Mayor had informed you that the post of teacher came with a small lodging. It was small; a separate bedroom off of the main living area, a water closet out in the back garden, enough room in the kitchen and living area for your tub to be placed in front of the fire when you need to wash. It was, however, homey, something Din had admired from the first. 

You ensured that blankets and pillows, knick knacks and trinkets covered the space. That it felt like a lived space, a place filled with love and warmth. 

He’s reluctant to leave you when he reaches the top step to your door. There’s a part of him that rarely wants to part from you, that enjoys your company even if it’s silent. You are comforting and familiar, he feels like he can be himself around you. There’s an implicit trust between the two of you. He trusts you with his son, he trusts you with his safety and protection, he trusts you with himself and even his heart, something he has protected ever since the death of his parents at the hands of bandits and thieves. He would be happy so long as he is in your presence and it is that fact that makes him certain about his decision to propose courtship, there is no one he would rather spend the rest of his days with. Terrifying, overwhelming, massive, but he can sense how entirely worth it it will be. 

“Goo-”

“Hav-”

The two of you go to say goodnight at the same time, stopping short and laughing under your breath. You tug at the fabric of your skirt and shift, feeling a wave of embarrassment at talking over each other, an odd feeling when neither have done anything to be embarrassed of. 

Grogu shifts on his father’s hip, leaning forward a hand reaching out to wave at you. You begin to smile, waving back at the little boy, your smile only grows wider when the usually mute boy giggles out “Goodnigh’!” at you with a large smile on his face. 

The boy manages to break the tension with a simple word and smile, once again you wonder if he knows more than he lets on. That this six year old is, perhaps, wise beyond his years.

“Goodnight, Grogu. Goodnight, Din.”

“Goodnight, cabur’ika” There is a pause from Din as if he wishes to say something, before stopping himself, turning and walking down your stairs. You wait there at your door, watching him leave until your eyes can no longer follow his figure as he disappears around a corner and out of sight. 

Your home feels empty, unusually so, with their presence gone, but you decide to put your energy and longing into a response. The first part is your famous spiced cookies. You know that Mandalorians prize spiced foods highly, a cultural aspect that your teacher Atin’a Caivass had shared with you as a child. 

The recipe was hers, one thing she gifted you, shared with you, and entrusted to you. So you get to work, mixing together flour, butter, sugar, egg. Adding spices that are one of the little luxuries you deign to spend a little extra on. They’re the sort of cookies that have a lovely mixture of sweetness and kick, they hit you in the back of the throat just enough to make your mouth tingle. The coco powder in them balances out the heat nicely,

Once the cookies are on the side cooling you hunt out your letter writing items. You haven’t had reason to write a letter since the passing of your parents many years ago. But, you know, in your organised way, where your things are. You collect your writing paper, envelopes, dip pen, ink. You find out your sealing wax, the stamps you haven’t used in years. You lay out each item on your kitchen table with care, feel a thrill go through you that you haven’t felt in years. You always enjoyed writing letters, taking your time to put thoughts and feelings into words onto paper. 

You take up your pen, dip the metal nib into black ink and bring the tip to cream, clean, fresh paper and begin to write. 

Dearest Sheriff Djarin, Din. 

There are few words in the expanse of the dictionary that could truly describe how I felt upon reading your letter. Ever since the kiss we shared I had worried, doubted. I was scared that perhaps you had changed your mind, decided that I was not worth your time, that I was not of interest anymore. When to me you had only become further ingrained in my dreams and wants. I was scared that I had made a terrible fool of myself.

To know that those feelings are returned, that you can see a life and a future with me means the world, it means everything. Grogu and you have become an inextricable part of my life, a part I would never wish to do without. You and that sweet boy make my soul sing and as Walt Whitman once aptly put ‘I am to see to it that I do not lose you’. 

You enchant me and thrill me to no end and perhaps that is not ladylike to say, perhaps I should write a quick acceptance of your offer and leave it at that, but I feel that such honest and open words should be returned in kind. I adore you. 

I adore the crinkle in your brow, the blinding smile when you drop your guard. I adore the kind, gentle nature you have around children, the ease with which you cause them to smile and laugh. I adore the respect you have for me, the respect you have for my authority in the classroom. I adore the curls of your hair, the hook of your nose, the patchy beard that grows on your jaw. I find there is very little I do not adore about you, Din Djarin and that is both a terrifying concept and one that I too adore. 

There was a time I thought little on marriage. I was told I should marry, but what of it? Why would I? You have, for the first time, made me truly desire marriage, a husband, children, a life of pure domesticity and family. 

To put it plainly, and I hope my feelings are not off putting or too forward, I would be glad, happy, ecstatic to one day call myself your wife and to call you my husband, my riddur. 

You asked if I would allow you to court me and my answer is yes, a hundred, a thousand times yes. I would love nothing more than to step out with you, to hang on your arm and begin to take steps towards a life together. 

I wish to make it equally as clear that Grogu matters to me. That I understand that he is part of this, part of you, and that I would never wish for you to part from each other. If you one day saw me as worthy of becoming his mother then I would take that responsibility on with pride and with love. He is a little angel, he captured my heart from the very first day I met him, even with his mischief and I would never wish to part with the two of you or come between your aliit, only to join it. I understand that he is as much your son, your child, as any child born of your own blood. 

I accept your offer of courtship and I knowingly enter into it, and all that it entails. 

All my love and affection,

Y/N Y/L/N

You wait for the ink to dry, in the meantime you take some muslin and begin to wrap the cookies carefully in the fabric. The twine you wrap around you knot into a bow. Redoing it multiple times until you're happy with its shape. There’s no real need for a knot of twine to be perfect, but you want it to look perfect, to be perfect, for him. 

The ink of your letter is dry and you’re careful as you go through the motions of folding the pages, slipping them into a crisp envelope and weighing down the lip. You’re selective in your choice of wax and seal, careful as you melt the wax, pour it and stamp it. There’s a quiet calm about it all, sealing your words behind wax and paper. Knowing that the next time they’re revealed the one person they’re meant for will be reading them.

You place the times together on the side with care, ready to be collected in the morning as you leave for the school house. You take a few moments to think about when it would be best to deliver them, deciding that as much as it pains you to wait, the evening, after school, is better than the morning. It would simply distract you more, you have little time to do it, and the evening gives you that time to talk, to enjoy the change in your relationship. 

You go to sleep that night with thoughts of Din’s smile, the one he gives whenever he tells a story to your class, soft, gentle, filled with contentment. Thoughts of the way his hair curls over his ears and his neck moves as he swallows. Thoughts of how he had come into your little mining town of Navarro and shaken everything up in the best sort of way, put to right all the wrongs, solved problems and brought forth solutions.

When you wake the next morning you’re extra particular about what you choose to wear, how your pins look in your hair and how much rouge is on your cheeks. You know, deep down, that Din could care less about the way your hair is pinned or how much rouge is on your cheeks, but it’s something to occupy your hands and mind in the morning before you get to the school house. Once you’re teaching you know you’ll have little time to worry or think about the response you intend to pass on to Din at the Sheriff’s office that evening, but in the meantime you busy yourself with your daily routine. 

The day seems to drag, your smile and good morning to Din as he drops Grogu off for school is filled with tension and unspoken words. Your lessons seem to take forever to teach and where you’d normally be enthused you find yourself more eager for the day to end than anything else. 

Paz is the one to come by and collect Grogu at the end of the day. The large man had settled into town as the deputy not a month into Din’s stint as sheriff. You knew that Paz and Din were close, practically brothers, having grown up together in the covert and that had been the main reason for you warming to him so quickly. Without Din’s presence you would have likely shied away from Paz. He was large, if you’d thought Din was broad shouldered, then he had nothing on Paz, who was a veritable giant. His size and his resting scowl made him intimidating, but his interactions with the children and women of town showed his character instantly. Like another Mandalorian you knew he’d been gentle and sweet, respectful, despite his size and intimidating demeanor. You liked Paz, even if he seemed to enjoy embarrassing you around his brother. 

“Hey there, Little One!” You watch Paz crouch down, arms open as the little boy barrels towards him as fast as his little legs can go. Grogu absolutely adored Paz, he was his uncle, his ba’vodu, and the little boy loved being swung about, hefted to and fro by the giant man. It was the tenderness with which Paz always encompassed Grogu in his arms, lifting him gently to his shoulders, that reminded you of the soul inside Paz. The cover of his book was intimidating, scary, tough, the face of a mercenary and bounty hunter, but his inner pages, his soul was just as soft as Din, just as caring. You were happy to call Paz a friend. 

“Hello, Paz”, You smile up at the man, Grogu now sat about his shoulders, arms wrapped around the top of his head with a little smile. The man in question smiles down at you, “Good evenin’, cyar’ika”, You smile wider at the familiar endearment, happy to see your friend even if the nerves from your impending visit to Din buzz in your stomach and chest. 

“Is Din working late?” 

“Yeah, the kid’ll be at mine for the night, Din’s working the graveyard shift so to speak.” You’re, in truth, glad that Paz is watching Grogu for the night, that Din is working late. It gives you the privacy to give your response, without either the watchful eyes of a child or any other sort of audience. 

“Well, have a good night, Paz” 

“Not as good as yours i’m sure” It’s said with that teasing glint that Paz often gets in his eye and a smirk that twists the shape of his beard. It causes a sort of panic to fill you, at the thought that Paz knows, that he knows what’s going on even if it’s completely believable and acceptable that Din would tell his brother about his intentions towards you. Your body feels warm all of a sudden and you're sure there’s a look of panic in your eyes because Paz’s glint softens down to something kind and gentle as he nods a goodnight to you and walks away. 

You force yourself to go about your normal routine, spending a few hours at the school house marking books, organising the next day’s lessons, tidying up and generally making sure you were ready for all your children the following morning. You may spend a little too much time rearranging the items on your desk and sharpening pencils that don’t really need to be sharpened. 

It’s as the sun begins to dip low in the February sky, and people begin to light lamps in their houses or, for those with enough money, turn on their electric lights that you finally decide enough is enough and grab the parcel and letter from your desk. You march with a strange sort of determination, that hides the mess of emotions you are inside, across the street and to the Sheriff’s Office. It doesn’t matter that Din had already shared his feelings with you, you were still nervous of his reaction, had you responded well enough? Was it romantic enough? Would something in your letter be off putting for him? Was it too forward? Not clear enough?

He is leaning back in his chair, legs crossed on top of his desk, heels of his boots digging into the wood of the table. The warm light from various gas lamps bounces across Din’s features, accentuates the sharpness of his cheek bones, the curve of his hawkish nose, the shadow from the brim of his hat. 

His chair makes a sharp screech across the floorboards as he rushes to stand at the sight of you, feet falling to the floor as he bounces to them. The hat is swept off his head, politely removed to show the curls of his hair as he, dare you say nervously, tugs at his waistcoat and checks his attire. It’s somewhat relaxing, the endearing nerves with which he greets you, the quick attempt to perfect himself, to show you the best of him, even if you would have happily been greeted by him even if he were covered head to toe in mud. 

“Cabur’ika…” He’s a little breathless and it causes a flush to reach his cheeks. He’s embarrassed that he sounds like a school aged kid, that he isn’t standing before you behaving like a man, an adult. But, you take the breath out of him. You’re frazzled looking after a long day teaching, the hair of your up-do frizzy and falling out in places, chalk across your cheeks and skirt, wrinkles in your clothes that he was sure weren’t there that morning, but you still looking breathtaking, you still make his heart jump a beat. 

“Din…” You’re breathless yourself, it feels like your nerves have a hand around your throat, a tight grip keeping the breath from leaving your lungs. You fumble a little as you step towards him, tripping on a loose floorboard but catching yourself. Your hands nearly drop the precious cargo they’re carrying and you clutch tighter in response. 

“I...uh...Here.” You had the parcel and letter to him, as he reaches for the envelope first you panickedly say, “The parcel! Open...open the parcel first?” He can see the nerves in you, the way you twist your fingers and bite at your bottom lip, in an effort to ease them he nods with a smile and puts the envelope on his desk, focusing on the package of muslin and string. 

He’s careful as he opens it on his desk, pulling apart the perfect bow you’d tied and unravelling the package with careful hands. His fingers are too delicate in that moment for such large hands, for hands that have choked men unconscious and lassoed bounties, that have held guns. It’s odd for him, how easily he has fitted into the domesticity of town, odd, but not unwelcome. 

The wrappings fall away and he’s greeted by the sight of warm brown cookies, irregularly shaped, although somewhat circular. They’re delicious looking, but what gets him the most is the smell, it reminds him of winter nights in the covert, of his adopted parents and warm cookies and milk, spices that he’s almost forgotten about. He should really ask before grabbing one and tucking in, but he can’t resist the urge to find out if the spices are the ones he remembers from his childhood. 

The cookie is moist and soft as it crumbles away easily onto his tongue, he can’t resist closing his eyes at the taste. He recognises the spices, the taste taking him back to fond memories and warmth, a familial bond between him and those who had taken him in, protected him, given him a purpose, a life. He finishes the whole thing without really realising it. 

You watch on, anxious to see if he likes them. It had been a risk, spicing the cookies, you hoped the significance to his culture was a good thing and not bad. You found yourself second guessing your decision as his brow furrowed, eyes closing, but then he took the next bite, and the next, until the cookie was no more and Din’s chocolate coloured eyes opened and blinked over at you with the lightest sheen of tears. 

“How did you know?”

“I...I had a mandalorian teacher, remember? She...she always liked spiced cookies, I…are they okay? Was...should I not have?” You feel the worry bounce through you, at the thought that you’d crossed some invisible line, some sort of boundary not meant to be crossed. 

“No, no! They’re lovely, thank you. They...they remind me of home, Mesh’la.” He’s quick to reassure you, a warm hand reaching out to give one of your own a quick squeeze, just long enough to comfort you, but no longer than appropriate.

You watch him turn back to the envelope, picking it up with care before glancing between the seal and you, eyes darting back and forth as if he is unsure if he is allowed to open it, to read it. “Open it.” You force the words from your throat, nervous for him to read your words, your thoughts and feelings put to paper, but knowing that the relief once he has done so will outweigh your current anxiety. 

You stand and watch, a lump in your throat, your hands twisting into your skirt as he opens the envelope. A careful finger pulling the seal free and gently easing the pages of your letter from it’s confines. You wait and you watch, eyes intent on his features as his own carefully trace across the curvature of your words. 

He can feel his heart pounding in his ears, feel the tears well in his eyes as he reads further throughout your letter. It is not just your open acceptance of his offer that has his emotions rising within his chest, but the clear admiration of him and the openness with which you accept his son. Grogu was his child, you were right, as much as any child of his own blood would be, and he had, in truth, stupidly worried that you might not accept the boy as your own. Your excitement at the prospect of one day being a mother to him causes his heart to ache in the best sort of way. 

Din was purposeful as he placed the letter down and strode up to you, the toes of his boots touching the hem of your skirt. He invades your personal space in a way that sets your skin aflame, yet it is not uncomfortable. You welcome his presence as much as it causes your heart to beat rapidly and your throat to swallow. 

“May I kiss you?” He asks, his voice soft and gentle, the southern twang just under the surface. He’s so close you can feel the warmth from his skin. You nod, letting out a shaky breath as his hands come up to cup your cheeks. So large they enclose you so well, make you feel secure even as your heart tries to stutter out of your chest. It matters little that you’ve kissed before, that was quick, this was slow, your attention undivided, your thoughts completely encapsulated by him and his entire being. His hands are warm against your cheeks, thumbs brushing back and forth in gentle strokes as he gages your reaction, eyes focused on your own. He’s slow as he moves forward, as if giving you time to back out, to pull away, but you don’t. 

He tastes like spices and sugar, the cookie lingering on his tongue long after it had melted away. He is soft, but not so gentle, the gentle, delicate nature of your last kiss is replaced by depth of emotion, passion and fire. His lips firm against yours, a large hand cupping the back of your neck to pull you closer, while the other falls to your waist. His beard scratches against your skin pleasantly and you think you could happily grow used to this. You think little of propriety, of politeness, when you open your lips to his and meld yourselves closer together, think little of it as you clutch at his shoulders and breathe him in, as your fingers come up to tangle in those chocolate curls and tug incessantly, as his tongue tangles with your own. There is no fear of it going too far, of Din pushing you for more, of demanding more because you both know the lines that must not be crossed, because you trust him implicitly and because you know he respects you enough to not risk your reputation or livelihood for something carnal or baser, even if he desires it. Even if you desire it.

The lack of fear is what allows you to get swept up in the kiss, in the feeling of his hands and lips on you, the warmth of his skin, the smell of his soap. It allows you to forget that the world outside exists, that you are not in your own private world, but in the easily accessible space that is the Sheriff’s Office. 

The spell is broken by the sound of the door slamming open and heavy, booted footfalls on the floorboards. You pull apart with a gasp and Din is quick to stand in front of you, as if to protect you from view, scowling at his deputy in the doorway. Not even the little boy on Paz’s shoulder can take the frustration from Din, he is frustrated at the interruption, embarrassed for you, that you were caught in a compromising position, and irritated by the smirk that’s heavy on Vizsla’s lips. 

Paz hadn’t meant to interrupt, in truth he hadn’t expected to find you there, lips locked to his brother, but Grogu was being fussy. Refusing to eat his dinner and then outright refusing to be put to bed. Paz had decided the kid just needed to see his buir, he hadn’t expected Din to be...in the middle of something. 

“Am I interrupting something, Djarin?” He’s teasing and he feels a little sorry when he sees how embarrassed you look, but it’s worth it for the glare he gets from Din. His smirk widens as Din practically growls at him, teeth clenched tight. 

“Vizsla, don’t make me shove my boot where the sun don’t shine. Ne shab’rud’ni.” He softens a little at Grogu grinning at the two of you, but he still wishes the interruption had never come. He knows it was inevitable, he has a young son, the chances of romance going uninterrupted are slim, still… 

“We’ll be outside, Vod. Don’t take too long” Paz says it, still with that smirk attached to his face. He’s gracious enough to give Din a little more time with you, before demanding the man take his son home and tuck him in bed. 

The door closes softly behind him, the moment he’s out of sight Din turns back to you, sighing out an apology, “I’m sorry, cyare…”

He presses his forehead to your own, hands smoothing across your waist and back in gentle motions. As if trying to soothe the embarrassment from you, bring you back to a sense of peace that had since been disrupted. 

You push your forehead back into his and nudge his nose with your own, “Don’t be. He’s your son.” You mean it. As embarrassing as being interrupted is, as frustrating as it may be, you understand. His son is massively important, and he’s young, there are bound to be interruptions. It’s okay. 

“So, we’re really doin’ this, huh? Haven’t changed your mind yet, Mesh’la?”

“Not at all…” You press forward, a soft, sweet little kiss to lips before pulling back, “You should go...Grogu needs you. Wish him a goodnight for me?” You pull away slowly, untangling yourself from his arms despite your own reluctance. You want to stay there, warm and safe forever, but Grogu needs his father and you do not have the heart to deprive him. 

“Always.” 

Din doesn’t want to leave you, but you make the decision for him, grabbing his hat and carefully plopping in atop his head before ushering him out the door. You watch as he takes Grogu from Paz, putting the boy onto his shoulders and walking with the man down the street. 

He can’t help but look back.

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

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[wandasallerdyce]

Always Be Together

Pairing - Prince! Jack Kline x Prince! M! Reader

Series this work belongs to - Breathe

Warning(s) - fluff, a teensy bit of angst

Fandom - Supernatural

Summary - Jack has something to tell you. Eventually, both of you stop talking. Believing it was the end of your friendship, the both of you continue with life. Years later, an unexpected reunion happens.

A/N - so there’s not really that many Jack Kline x m reader out there, so I decided to take matters in my own hand and created this. I hope y’all enjoy.

Series Masterlist | Next Part

The sun was barely rising, but you and Jack were already up to your old tricks, like raiding the kitchen and scaring the farm animals. You had known Jack since you were born, basically. You guys were always together, sometimes with the company of his adoptive brothers, Sam and Dean Winchester, or with your older brother, (y/b/n). Either way, more time with each other meant more chaos. Your parents sometimes got annoyed that you only wanted to hang out with Jack and not your other friends, but they believed it was just a phase. Whatever that meant, you had no idea.

As you both entered the halls of your castle, you heard your mother scream. Oh, right, you and Jack had accidentally let some of the farm animals in. Before she could spot you guys, the both of you slowly walked back out and ran towards the pond that was nearby. No matter how many times you guys would go there, it always managed to captivate you guys with its beauty. As soon as the both of you arrived at the pond, you threw yourselves on the grass, panting for air. “I think that’s the first time we’ve gotten away from her.” Jack said exhaustedly.

He had a point. Every time you guys tried to sneak past your mom, she would always manage to catch you both before you ran away. After, she would scold you saying that princes’ aren’t supposed to act like that. Your father would just laugh it off and tell her that you guys were just kids and it would eventually subside. But ever since then, you and Jack always tried and wouldn’t stop until you guys succeeded.

After catching your breaths, you and Jack sat up and walked to where the daisies were. You would always try to teach him how to make a daisy chain, but he was clumsy and could never figure out how to do it. So that left you with the task of making matching crowns for the both of you. After, you would both put them on and would pretend to rule over a fake country. “Hey Jack, Look! It’s a rabbit!” You exclaimed, pointing towards the brown rabbit that stood out amongst the green grass. “Maybe he could be one of our new villagers!” Jack said excitedly. You nodded and the both of you made your way towards it slowly.

Things didn’t go out as planned though. Somehow, Jack tripped and fell, scaring the rabbit and causing it to run away. “I’m sorry (y/n), I ruined your plan. Again.” Jack said, a guilty look washing over his face. “Hey, don’t worry it’s okay. Besides, maybe he was moving to a nearby kingdom anyways.” You said reassuringly, sitting down right next to him and hugging him. “Yeah, your right. Thanks (y/n)! You always know how to make things better!” He said, hugging you back.

Eventually it was time for him to go home. That’s when realization struck him. This was his last day with you. He suddenly froze, and stood in place. You stopped and turned to look at him. “Hey Jack? Is everything okay? Hello? Hellooooo?” You said, trying to get his attention. He snapped back to reality and inhaled sharply. “I’m sorry (y/n), I forgot to tell you that my parents are sending me overseas for school. Some high academy or something. I’m sorry, I would’ve told you sooner.” Jack said, looking down shamefully. “W-What? No! You can’t leave! Who am I going to hang out with in school??? All my other friends are somehow busy during lunch! And-And who am I going to annoy my mom with?” You exclaimed, rambling on and on.

“(y/n)!” Jack said loudly. You jumped, never once hearing Jack raise his voice. “It’s okay, trust me. Listen, how about we make a promise?” Jack said, looking at you for confirmation. You nodded, begging him to go on. “Let’s write each other every week, and when I eventually come back, we meet… yknow what? We’ll discuss where to meet in the letters, okay?” Jack explained. “Okay. Pinky promise?” You said, holding your pinkie out. “No, but something even better! I won a couple of toys in a coin machine the other day and found a couple of rings. We could make promise rings!” Jack said excitedly.

You simply smiled. Mom had never let you play coin machines, so this was the greatest idea Jack ever had. “That sounds like fun! We just gotta make sure we don’t loose it. Oh! We could make a necklace so that way we don’t loose them!” You suggested, happiness in your eyes. “Don’t worry, (y/n). We won’t loose them!” Jack said. He would be proven wrong once you guys put them on. They didn’t fit around your fingers. “Yeah, that necklace idea sounds good.” Jack said sheepishly. “I told you so!” You said, laughing about the situation.

“Alright, so we gotta keep our promises, okay?” Jack said, trying hard to put on a deep voice. You giggled at him. “Sir yes sir!” You said, putting on a deep voice too. You looked at each other and couldn’t contain your laughter. One hurt tummy later, Jack got into his family’s car, rolling down the window and waving goodbye. You wanted to yell goodbye, but couldn’t so you just waved goodbye instead. Part of you wished this was a dream and Jack would come back. The other part of you knew this was all real though.

~•~

It had been a couple of years since that passed. You were now 15, while Jack was 16. You guys would write to each other often, knowing phones weren’t allowed at his school. They preferred the old fashioned way of writing. Now though, the letters barely even came. It was rare to get one. Eventually, you both stopped writing to each other. The memories of when you were 7 and Jack was 8 were playing in your head over and over again. You just hoped that he would come back soon.

~•~

Oh how you hated parties. Sure, you were 19, you should enjoy being at parties, but you didn’t. Especially since the party was for you. You adjusted your clothes and wrapped the (f/c) shawl around you as you walked down the hall. Gosh, it was cold at night. You were freezing your butt off. You went around greeting people, as a respectful prince should. You could hear your mother’s voice repeating the phrase over and over. As soon as Jack left, it’s like she did a 180 and started teaching you hoe to be a proper prince. You knew she didn’t approve of Jack, but she could at least have let you continue playing with your toys, but no.

You turned your head, and saw her staring at you. She nodded towards another crowd, telling you in a way to go greet them. You rolled your eyes but complied. What you didn’t expect was to see the person who had left so long ago, who you hadn’t spoken to in years, to be staring back at you. You were both frozen in the spot at the same time. You knew he grew up to be handsome. Queen Mary had shown you pictures he would send home. But you didn’t expect him to look even more handsome in person.

“(y/n…)” Jack said, some of his neatly combed brown hair falling in front of his face, leaving him in shock.

“Jack…”

To be continued…

[lovemesomesurveys]

Did the best moment of your life happen at summer camp? I didn’t go to summer camp.  Do you get tired of fakebook? Fakebook, ha. It’s whatever. I don’t spend a lot of time on there, honestly. I just spend a few minutes a couple times or so a day scrolling through the feed and “like” some stuff.  Are you a poser on facebook or are you real? I don’t post a lot of personal stuff on there. I actually rarely post anything at all anymore. Like I said, I mostly just scroll through the feed “liking” stuff. I sometimes share a funny or relatable post, but that’s about it.

Are you a people pleaser? I mean... I don’t want to upset anyone or having any confrontation. I’m usually pretty agreeable with most things to avoid any issues. I’ll go along with what they want to do even if it’s not what I want to do (for the most part). I just don’t want any problems and it’s just easier to do those things. So, according to Psychology Today, avoiding conflict, agreeing with everyone (or pretending to), and finding it hard to say no are some of the top 10 things people who are people pleasers do. Another is not admitting to someone that your feelings are hurt, which is also me. But then also I’m not someone who has to be liked by everyone or seeks everyone’s validation. I feel like I do those things above because of the whole confrontation/avoiding conflict/not wanting to cause any issues thing and not because I want to be liked by everyone if that makes sense. Not to say that I don’t want to be liked, but... I don’t know. Whatever, you get what mean. Or maybe you don’t. *shrug* 

This response was so unnecessarily long, ha. Do you get irritated a lot? All the time. I’m very moody and irritable. What’s something you’ve realized about yourself lately? Nothing new. Do you know a lot of idiots? No, but I hear about and read things where I’m just like....yikes, wtf is wrong with some people? It’s alarming. Do you want a puppy or a kitty? Aww I love puppies, but I have a doggo and one is good for us. Do you hate that some people are stuck-up? I certainly don’t like if someone is stuck up and rude to me. Or really, just that way in general to people. It’s not a cute look. I hear the horror stories from people I know who work with the general public and wow. People can really be just so unnecessarily rude and cruel.  Would you rather be poor and humble or rich and snooty? I definitely wouldn’t want to be snooty. Can I be rich, but humble? ha. I’d be appreciative. I’d give back. I wouldn’t think I was superior to or above anyone just because I had money.  Do you know any humble rich people? I dont know any rich ppl, lmao . <<< Ha, same. Do you hate the millennial stereotype? I don’t pay much attention to that stuff. Does your religion or spirituality teach you to love your enemies? Yes. Do you love your enemies? I don’t have any enemies. Do you struggle to love your enemies? Do you get bullied frequently? I’m my only bully. Do you often wish you could go to sleep and not wake up until something good happens? As hard as it has been these past few years, I wouldn’t want to miss everything. I wouldn’t want to wake up one day and my loved ones are all much older, or worse. I wouldn’t want to miss the important things in their lives.  How many people do you know who are suicidal? I don’t know. You don’t always know that about a person. Do you read advice columns? No. Have you ever used a dating site? Nope. I’ve never had any interest in doing so. Do you want a fairy godmother? No. Do you enjoy watching talent shows? The only one I watch is The Voice. Which cartoon character would you want to play you in a movie? Wait…if there was a cartoon character playing me, then wouldnt they simply be modeled after me? <<< Good point. What is something you do not understand? Why I’m like this, the things I’ve gone through/are going through, life... a lot of things. Do you think cars are ugly? Some are. What is your favorite musical? Sweeney Todd. Are you ok? “I’m nooooooooot okay. I’m not okay, I’m not o-fucking-kay.” Do you ever feel God’s presence? Yes. Do you believe in angels? Yes. What is your favorite magazine? I don’t read any. What color hair did your favorite Barbie doll have? Most of my Barbies were blonde, but I had a few brunettes.  Who were you rooting for in the very first season of American Idol? Kelly Clarkson. Do you believe in miracles? Yes. Have you ever been to a tea shop? Yes. If there were a tea shop in your city, would you go to it? *shrug* maybe. Do you still have your Christmas decorations up? Yes. It’s barely January 2nd, chill out Old Sport.  How many pairs of jeggings do you own? Zero. Do you have any memories that are painful? Plenty. Do you make a habit of taking risks and stepping outside of your comfort zone? Ha, nope. Is your life boring? Yes, but I don’t have the energy or motivation to do much and I do like doing the things that I do. It works for me. What is your favorite thing to follow on tumblr? Blogs that post stuff related to my various fandoms, relatable and aesthetically pleasing things, and of course surveys.  What are your favorite Pinterest boards? I’m not big on Pinterest. I go on there sometimes to find cute pics and wallpapers for my phone, but that’s about it. Is your Pinterest profile cluttered? No. Like I said, I don’t much on there. If I find photos I like I just save them to my phone. Do you wish you owned more board games? Yeah. I love board games. Do you wish you had visitors more often? No.  Do you hate our culture? Lol, this jst reminds me of that one post thats like “no U live in a society. I live at my mom’s house”. Except in my case, its my dad’s house. And like I said above - I feel rather shielded from the world at large. Its almost as tho Im watching a movie unfold from afar <<< I can relate to that.  Do you live in the USA? Yes. What accent do you like best? British or southern accents. What are some things you would like to do this summer? Ew, I am NOT thinking about summer. It’s barely January, please let me enjoy this winter weather. What are some things you love about spring? The rain. Are you feeling optimistic today? No. When was the last time you did something that made you feel stupid? I feel that way a lot because of things I have and haven’t done and the ongoing, lasting effects of those things.  Is there anything that you’re questioning if you’re allergic to? No. Do you believe everyone should be treated with respect when you first meet them? I’m polite and civil to everyone I meet. Do you hate that nobody cares? About what? What websites shut down that you miss? Xanga was great for surveys. I’m also sad I lost all the surveys I did on there. What were your favorite websites when you were a teenager? I spent a lot of time on Myspace. There was also this Jonas Brothers website that had message boards and a chatroom, which I spent a lot of time on as well.  What was the best class you took in high school? English and Spanish.  Are you happy? No. Would you ever enroll in a college class just for fun? No. I’m done with school. I have no desire to go back, not even for just an elective. Do you feel free to be yourself? Yeah, pretty much. This is me, take it or leave it. Do you stand up for yourself when needed? Depends.

[mindibindi]

Do you have any tips for writing fanfiction?

Hey, Anon, thanks for the ask and sorry about the delayin replying. I’ve been writing fanfiction for so long that I’ve gotten into abit of a routine with it so I had to have a think about what I actually do. These tipsare based on my own writing practice, experience and approach to fanfic.But I would encourage you to keep asking this question, keep chatting withother authors (some might be kind enough to comment here) as you search for your ownunique writing style and practice. Everyone’s will be different and, as long asit works, I say stick with it. I’m assuming that you’re a new or aspiringauthor so I hope one, some or all of these tips prove useful.

1. Get In The Zone: Find the time of day when yourbest writing happens. For me (rather inconveniently when there’s work to bedone), this is first thing in the morning. For others, I’ve heard it’s themiddle of the day or late at night. But you will know this time when you find itbecause words and ideas will flow freely and easily, faster sometimes than yourfingers can keep up. Revel in this time, use it well then stop writing when theenergy runs out. Nothing good was ever produced by pushing past inspirationinto frustration or exhaustion. That said, inspiration can strike at any time – while watchingan ep or taking a walk or going about your work or trying to fall asleep. When itdoes – whether it’s an opening line, a plot point or snippet of dialogue – jotthose ideas down.

2. Watch (and Rewatch) Your Source Material: Thismay sound obvious (and not much of a chore for a fan) but watching whatevermovie/show/whatever you’re working from helps you to pick up the jargon of thatworld, to absorb the particular milieu, to know the people, places and canon(before you presumably diverge from it). The best fanfic gets both the bigpicture and the little details right. Without these firmly in place, you riskwriting a story that doesn’t ring true to the basic characters, tone orsituation you’re attempting to emulate. You want to extend a reality you love,not break it. So always be on the lookout for any little thing that mightfracture this reality and cause readers to fall out of a world they (you mustassume) know equally well. As a reader, there’s always a jolt when this happens, a dishearteningplummet. So know your stuff before you put pen to paper.

3. Get the Voices Right: Unlike character which canbe ambiguous, changeable and open to interpretation, every fan becomes attuned tothe particular voices of their favourite characters. When reading, you don’t need to work toknow when an author gets this right. You can just hear it. You can also (unfortunately)hear the tiniest slip in consistency and truth. I have written for somecharacters with very distinctive voices, voices I really didn’t think I couldemulate: both Ten and Donna in “Doctor Who”, Jack and Liz in “30 Rock” and,more recently, Gene Hunt in “Ashes to Ashes”. My particular trick for writingthese characters, for practicing their voices, was to write out the dialoguefirst then fill in everything else. Obviously this is only going to work forfics like this, this and this that rely heavily on banter. I love this kind offic. I love reading ‘em and I love writing ‘em. But even in fics which meldprose and dialogue, writing the dialogue out in isolation can help since theseaspects use slightly different writerly muscles.                          

4. Spellcheck is Your Friend: There will probablyalways be errors in your writing but do your best to avoid preventable andobvious mistakes. These can destroy your credibility as a narrator and takeyour reader out of your story. Personally, I am a compulsive editor. I wouldn’trecommend it. But I would recommend reading through your work at least once andrunning spellcheck before posting. Reading aloud can also help to identify anygrammatical errors or issues with flow. You can, if you find a friend willingto act as beta, outsource some of this work.

5.Don’t Be Afraid to Start Small: I’m a fan of theshort, self-contained fic. I’ve written lots of them and significant work must still go into making them work. So don’t aim to produce 25,000brilliant words right off the bat. Just 1-2,000 solid ones of which you can be proud.

6.Write What You Want: If you’re lucky, readerswill request fics of you (I have never been good at fulfilling these requests).If you’re unlucky, they’ll complain about directions you take or detail whythey refuse to read what you’ve written (this is pretty rare). But you can’t, Ibelieve, force inspiration. It’s either there or it’s not. For me, I beganwriting fanfic because there just wasn’t any for a pairing I shipped. So Iwrote it myself, for myself. I wrote what I liked and wanted to read (I stilldo). This is a medium in which fans have complete autonomy. They choose to go frompassive consumer to active creator. So just do what you do. Do whatever youwant. Turn back time. Bring people back from the dead. Unite lovers. Mergeworlds. Create characters. Make it sad, happy, dramatic or funny or both. You have the power. Claim it. Play with it. Revel init.

7. Start Strong and End Strong: You gotta have agood first line, in my theory of ff. That’s where it (literally) all begins. I always like to openwith something concise and intriguing that immediately communicates a little (butnot necessarily all) of what I’m planning to work with. Don’t be fooled intothinking you gotta start at the beginning. You don’t. You can enter the storyat any point. You can enter late – and leave early, as the saying goes. Thisis a screenwriting principle that ensures that only the most relevantinformation is included in a scene. It keeps the pace of a piece up, controlsthe dissemination of information and keeps audiences engaged. I think thisprinciple transfers rather easily to the page, especially since most of us areemulating material from the big or small screen. In order to imitate thesevisual mediums in written form, you might like to think of paragraphs, breaksand sentence structure as editing techniques that can guide the reader’s pace, growingperception and emotional experience.

8.Avoid Clichés: Clichés can occur at the level ofexpression, character or narrative. At the level of expression, these arewasted words that hold no meaning so find a fresh way to express what you mean.At the level of character, keep words, thoughts and actions rooted in thecharacter. “Show, Don’t Tell” is another well-known writing principle that can help maintain authenticity. As much as we may identify with certain characters, make judiciousdecisions about how much of yourself belongs in them. When writing intimaterelationships, less is often more. I know many shippers (myself included) spendyears sometimes LONGING for couples to express what they mean to each other,physically and/or verbally. By all means, let your beloved characters express –but not everything and not all at once, would be my advice. Allow them to maintainsome sense of mystery and sovereignty. At the level of narrative, clichés canactually work, especially if used with awareness. I had such fun writing a OneBed! fic for Jack and Liz, in which I paidtribute to some of the many reams of MSR fanfiction I had previously consumed.There were so many of these stories in that fandom that they became a categoryof their own, boasting a set of (increasingly ironic) conventions. Some fanfictraditions, it must be said, deserve to be embraced, extended and celebrated.   

9. Read: Reading is the easiest way to absorbgrammar, to expose yourself to different writing styles and to become moreadept with language. So read books of all kinds. And read fanfic from your favefandoms. But read it actively, critically. Figure out what works and whatdoesn’t and why. Figure out what you enjoy, don’t and why. Apply theseinsights to your own writing and keep applying them. Keep improving. The more you read and write, the better you’ll get.

10. Avoid Comparisons: My best experiences of readingand writing fanfiction have been in strong, supportive communities. Generally,the more supportive the community has been, the more prolific I have been. These communitiesare wonderful spaces to inhabit, filled with peeps that love their shows,defend their ships and support their authors. Authors are always hungry forfeedback, and is it any wonder? Writing, creating and sharing takes work, love,thought and guts. You have to claim a little corner of a fandom and boldlystate that you have something to say that’s worth listening to. Sadly, you will probably never receive the same amount of energy back as you putin. This can lead to authors comparing their output and input, judging theirwork on its stats rather than on its merits. It can lead to them competing forthose few meagre reviews that roll in. This is partly why it is so important toreview fanfic, particularly fanfic you love and authors you read consistently.It’s part of encouraging and creating a sense of community in which people feeltheir voices are heard and their contributions valued. So be generous with others. Encourage and share. Read, review, reblog.Treat your fellow writers as your community, not your competition. Viewfanfic as a labor of love, an act of generosity that sometimes gives back. And if you don’t get the response you wishfor then make sure you hit that internal heart button and give yourself somekudos for trying, for creating, for loving something and letting it show.

Good luck. :)

[spinnerprincess]

hmmmmm thought: the spicy combination of irresponsible creators and social media fucked with fandom and created this virulent form of anti-shipping? long post

Consider:

Show creators, comic writers, people in charge of popular content of all sorts join Twitter and other social media, making it easy for there to be cross-communication between creators and fandom. This was possible before but not common until recently

I’m going to use Voltron as an example but there are many others. Basically this show gets big and popular and, in a way that would not have been possible previously, so do its writers and artists etc. They are not only known and popular, but accessible, and talk about their work on the show in public social media spaces

Fandom has often expressed to a small degree “Gosh I hope my ship becomes canon” but that wasn’t always the focus. Prior to fandoms like this, imagining that your ship would become canon was wishful thinking for anything short of a YA love triangle, because everything else was super uncertain

But more importantly: fans had little to no influence. When say Parks and Rec was being created, sure, fandom existed, but no big director was thinking, “hmm, there seem to be a lot of Leslie/Ann shippers, maybe we should change to that”. Which they wouldn’t have anyway because no way would NBC have dared at the time (or any time soon tbh), but the point is, zero (0) big executives of shows gave a fuck about fandom and just focused on a combination of the creators’ stories and what would keep people watching

Then creators like Voltron’s come in and suddenly fandom has influence. Or the illusion of it, anyway. I mean, these creators are right here, visible, talking openly, and at any point someone can send a tweet and say “hey make my ship canon”

I don’t think up until this point things are completely terrible, but this is where you start factoring in irresponsible creators. When they start reaching out and acting like fandom plays a part in their decision making, it doesn’t even matter at that point whether or not that’s the truth. Fandom starts to believe that this is the case. Artists make ship art, creators tweet out hints about what’s to come or what relationships they like, they retweet things.

This is, to me, irresponsible behavior, when the creator gets too close to the fandom like this. It’s too easy for them to jerk around emotions by teasing about topics fans are deeply invested in. It’s too easy for them to make a mistake and say something that ruins someone’s ability to claim death of the author and enjoy the material. They can make excuses for their shows flaws and, worse, try to argue with people on the internet when they disagree with them. Those people then too easily get hate-bombed by fans of the creator. In some cases, creators will become deaf to important criticism because they’re too busy ignoring all criticism, being too used to receiving unfair hatred. 

I someday imagine being a creator myself and I think I would have to restrain myself heavily, because I don’t want to fall into these same traps. I would rather engage with fandom rarely or not at all, so that I might listen more closely to the real criticism and take it into consideration and improve as a writer and a person, and keep from harming the people who most love what I can do. But, back to the main point.

When fandom believes that they have influence over canon, you get the situation we’re in now. For this portion of young fandom that has grown up in this environment, shipping can become canon at any time. They might think, “If I shout and scream loud enough about how much I love this pairing, the creator will hear me and it will happen.” 

Fandom wars have become more literal, because to some extent, there really is a war going on, one for the attention of the creators. It spurs hatred towards other ships, and people search for ways to tear them down, finding the tiniest, most hint of problematic chunks as ways to disprove their validity. There’s an element of purity/problematic culture in this as well, where because ships are things people actually want to happen, and actively work to make happen, suddenly if you’re shipping a ship with even a minor age difference, there’s a certain logic of, “this person wants this an age difference ship to be portrayed on TV where kids can see it!!! they’re going to get kids hurt!!!!”

And that’s ridiculous. Sometimes people ship things that aren’t healthy, sometimes people ship things that don’t make sense. Sometimes people ship things that would be horrible in real life, but are fun for them to think of in fiction, or helping them to work through a trauma, and they appropriately tag and content warn everything so nobody who finds that content horrifying has to see it. Sometimes people ship even a minor age difference in the sense of “oh but like, not right NOW, I don’t even want them to get together until they’re both like 5-10 years older!” Sometimes I even ship things where I explicitly don’t want them to be canon! (I’ve had too many things become canon and yet the media itself disappoints me greatly...)

Shipping isn’t an aspirational thing, it’s not something that means “I think this is romantic” or “this is okay in real life” or even just “I actively want my show/book/media/canon to get these people together.” It doesn’t mean any of those, it just means, “I find this relationship interesting.”

But now, in a world where these ships can become canon (but probably not really), just by making enough art or fic (still no, but they want us to believe it can because then they get attention and sales), do you see how there’s pressure for shipping to take on that new meaning? 

Hell, it’s even just true for characters now. Of course “if you like x character, you’re wrong” is going to become an outlook if you associate liking a character with thinking that character is inherently good or worth showing to people all the time. (Oh yeah - you can like a character and acknowledge that they’re bad. In fact, please do. You’re going to drive everybody up a wall if you like a character and never admit to those flaws.)

The idea that ships are INTENDED to become something real and presented to the whole audience is not only wrong, but often kind of gross. Fandom can’t exist healthily in an environment where fanworks are now participation in some kind of fandom hunger games where everybody except the media creators loses. Fanworks need to exist for themselves, for the sheer joy in saying, “I’m interested in this thing,” regardless of the material that inspired them. 

So these are the take-aways for me:

Public media creators who engage heavily with the fandom, tease it and play with their hopes, are acting irresponsibly. I put more of the blame on them than on fandom in some ways, especially for younger fans just experiencing fandom for the first time. The rest of these tips are aimed at fans because I strongly doubt big media creators are reading this post, and any tips I have for them about this would be pointless.

Tagging content and putting warnings on it is, as always, vitally important. Not promoting unhealthy behavior is also important, but can live side-by-side with content that includes it. Fandom creators who fail to do this are irresponsible and/or deliberately harming people and kids especially.

Hey: don’t draw child porn! Thanks! The point above is not about that though. 

Fans need to keep in mind that shipping doesn’t mean making something canon, or at least, doesn’t only mean it, and thinking that it does makes it easy for people to send hate, cause trouble, encourage bullying, etc. 

Your ship can co-exist with other people’s ships. It’s okay to believe yours is the best, but you don’t have to do so by putting other ships down. 

Whether or not your ship becomes canon really isn’t up to you. Please keep this in mind when creating fanworks and don’t get too invested in something that might not happen, or might happen but not in the way you want it to. Watch out for ways that media creators might be stringing you along. 

[spockat]

Fave Fandom and Ships

in answer to an ask from weeks ago, sorry

Fave Fandom and Ships

001 Fandom Discovery

Least favorite character – when MU Lorca fully revealed himself a villainous villainous man [stomping that guy’s face – really?! Diatribe against alien races? Ugh]. I HATED what the writers did with Lorca. Emperor Georgiou also hits the stereotypical notes, since she doesn’t have a mustache she twirls cooked ganglia instead, and she’s also been given the Villain Trope of being bisexual – because [gasp!] “what could be worse” [this trope is on display in many shows and movies]. Yeah, we get it, she uses every. body.

5 Fave Ships – Prime Lorca/Cornwell; MU Lorca/PU Burnham; Stamets/Culber; Tilly/Tyler, I really don’t have any others. While Tyler/Burnham was well-acted, I didn’t really feel it except in the moment at the end of “Into the Forest I Go”

Character I find most attractive – ummm GABRIEL LORCA

Character I would marry – Prime Lorca [In my headcanon he’s a really decent guy – as I write in my BlackQat Katriel fics. [Although he can be stubborn as fuck, and when captaining his ship he’s pretty much like MU Lorca in temperament, using a tad bit of sarcasm here and there. He’s a little salty, but damned good and his crew would follow him through hell because he’s loyal to them.]

Character I would be best friends with – Katrina Cornwell. I hope I’d be good friends with her, she is so levelheaded and [headcanon] kind and compassionate, and probably encourages her friends. [You don’t become a psychiatrist because you’re unsympathetic toward, or uninterested in, people.] Runners-up, Sylvia Tilly, because she’s effervescent and a good friend to people.

A random thought – I so want Cornwell to find and rescue Prime Lorca. [Headcanon] Prime’s been busting his ass trying to help the rebels in the MU, and succeeding in large part since the Emperor’s departure. Maybe Cornwell has to make a devil’s bargain with Section 31 to get over there … [story in progress, grin]

An unpopular opinion – Burnham was RIGHT and Georgiou was wrong. The Shenzhou should’ve given the Klingons “The Vulcan Hello.” It might have shocked the Klingons and sent them to regroup. OTOH it may have just resulted in …The Battle at the Binary Stars … anyway. So either a win/lose or a lose/lose, and since the latter happened, it would’ve been worth a try for result #1.

My Canon OTP – Prime Lorca and Cornwell. Though it’s not REALLY established in canon as a romance. I hope it will be. I’d love to see them on Risa or somewhere together and get into an adventure while Discovery’s on a subplot adventure. Or they could be the subplot adventure. I DON’T CARE I JUST WISH I COULD SEE THEM TOGETHER

My non-canon OTP – MU Lorca and Burnham. If only he’d been fighting a just revolution for the rights of all races. Michael may even have joined him, for a time, and returned to the Prime Universe, say, after helping MU Lorca institute a better government after the Emperor’s death. OH WELL.

Most badass character – Tossup between Michael Burnham and Kat Cornwell on the female side both BAFs, and Lorca is a BAF.

Most epic villain - Emperor Georgiou. Farming and eating Kelpiens, honest to god. Killing how many, like 10 people in her throne room because she couldn’t trust them to remain quiet? Blowing up the rebel base, well yuh, I guess that’s to be expected. Quite the opposite of her kind Prime counterpart.

Runner-Up: Kol. He’s a mean Klingon, even by Klingon standards!

Pairing I am not a fan of – Tyler and Burnham, not so much. Something about it seemed a lit-tle forced, and I can’t say what. The actors did a lovely job, but I didn’t see the chemistry that was so obvious between Lorca and Burnham and Lorca and Cornwell.

And this is totally personal and y’all knock yourselves out and enjoy them, but I’m not a big fan of slash pairings in general, i.e., “making a gay couple out of a sisterly or brotherly canon pair of friends.” It’s just not my thing and I know people love to do this because of many personal or fannish reasons, like more representation, and y’all have fun with it. It is a really big thing now. But … I ship Prime Cornwell/Lorca and it isn’t yet established as canon (any more than Kirk/Spock) that they’re a canon OTP, so …

… take my “slash” statement with a grain of salt. What you want is what you want and what I want is what I want, and in fandom we can have All The Things.

I love Stamets and Culber and I love that they are a canon gay OTP.  [Stamets is great because he’s a salty scientist and a BAF (“as I’ve explained to you, Captain”)(injecting himself with tardigrade DNA to save “Ripper” and get the spore drive on line, and Culber is a warm fuzzy person with medical brilliance and compassion, kind of like Dr Crusher in TNG. Don’t make the mistake of underestimating him.]

Character I feel the writers screwed up one way or another – Tyler got it the worst. Couldn’t he have just been a human with Voq’s memories implanted? Jesus, they had to CHOP UP VOQ? At least give me a reason for that. Maybe because L’Rell’s beliefs said Voq would die if his body died? But noooo, no reason is given, and gratuitous bloody surgery scenes are there just [it seems to me] for shock value.

Lorca got fucked over [by the writers] the second he killed that guy outside the Agony Booth – he might could have been redeemed by leading a revolution for just causes.

Also Prime Georgiou. See elsewhere.

And Culber. What could be a worse screwup than killing a character for shock value?

Fave friendship - Burnham and Tilly

Character I most identify with – I am a lot like Tilly in the sense that I can be insecure and unsure and talk wayyy too much. As an older woman I also identify with Cornwell [and love her age-appropriate relationship with (Prime) Lorca, and I hope they’re more than just occasional fuck buddies.] In temperament I also identify with Salty!Lorca or CompassionateCulber or SaltyStamets.

Character I wish I could be – Cornwell or Burnham. Cornwell because she’s brilliant and capable, a psychiatrist, and a BAF Starfleet Admiral … being defiant and fighting L’Rell; with its attendant risks; Burnham because she’s also incredibly brilliant and capable and a BAF herself. Beaming onto the Sarcophagus to plant the sensors? Fighting Kol? I mean dayum.

002

Ships – Cornwell/Lorca [my OTP]; Burnham/Lorca

When I started shipping them – I think when she said, “Gabriel, why don’t you fix your damn eyes.”

[And Burnham/Lorca, when I read LadyFangs’ stories including “Human Nature,” then co-wrote “Human Nature II” with her.]

My thoughts – Headcanon: they didn’t meet till after Lorca graduated the Academy; Cornwell is four years older than he, and is a fully certified M.D. Psychiatrist [12 years] and comes to the Academy Officer Candidate School, which teaches candidates about the service and its history; Federation history as it relates to Starfleet; what it is to be an officer, not a civilian, and basic SERE training, working out, leadership. Kat graduates with a commission as a Lieutenant. My headcanon is that she and Gabriel  actually meet when they each come to SFA for Command Training School. Kat has decided she wants to enter the command track after serving as counselor for a year or so on a Starbase. She’s heard from patients how bad upper leadership leads to a lot of poor decisions in the field, and she feels she can make a positive contribution in this area. More thoughts in my fanfiction at BlackQat on AO3.

What makes me happy about them – They are an age-appropriate couple!! This is pret-ty rare in TV and movies. I note that some actors do seek to have age-appropriate co-stars Cornwell is beautiful, but not a fresh-faced 25-y/o, and sexy Lorca finds her sexy, and yay, there’s hope for women my age, I’m so glad, and that’s why I ship them and write them.

What makes me sad about them – that MU Lorca fucked Cornwell in more than one sense of the word. Bastard! And, that now she feels “my Gabriel is dead.” I really started shipping pretty hard when she said that, and I really hope Season 2 brings us some canon Katriel “more than fuckbuddies” subplots or references.

Things done in fanfic that annoy me ­– Please, writers, I’m beggin’ ya, PLEASE proofread or have a Beta proof your story. I don’t spend much time on things that aren’t proofed and beta’d. I get too distracted from the story because I’m an editor.

If you love slash don’t read this paragraph which is strictly my opinion – It really annoys me when slash shippers tag their stories as het, then turn it into slash. This is stealthy and uncalled for. When slash shippers try to get hits on their stories by, say, tagging it as Spock/Uhura and then having Uhura “generously step out of the way because she realizes Spock has never really been into her, he’s really into Kirk,” blah blah blah, just so the author’s real OTP [not tagged], K/S, can be the OTP in the story. Feh! Just be honest and tag it as slash.

Things I look for in a fanfic – QUALITY WRITING, good proofreading, and BELIEVABLE CHARACTER  PSYCHOLOGY. Also staying fairly true to the characters, maybe pushing the limits, but not too much. [I like to write angsty private Lorca—and the character, so far, is pretty much not so angsty [that was MU Lorca]—yet I still write him as an efficient, sometimes salty captain on the job. [In his private reflections and relationships, though, sometimes, angst.]

I also really love it when an author writes a Trek-like plot, with exploration, a little world-building, or a battle scenario, or alien interactions [something I don’t manage to do that often]. I love romance and angst, occasional fluff, and always, always, a good happy ending or at least a believable and decent resolution for the characters. I don’t like downer endings, but sometimes they’re realistic.

My wishlist – A canon romance for Cornwell and Prime Lorca! But first, FIND PRIME LORCA. He’s fighting alongside the rebels in the MU. He comes back to Prime Uni with Acute Stress Disorder or PTSD. Kat recommends a counselor and checks in with Gabriel to see how it’s going, but not poke her nose into his actual therapy, because that’s not the done thing. Slowly they progress to resume their romance.

Also let’s have another CBSAA series about Pike’s Enterprise. [I know that’s not what you asked.]

Who I’d be comfortable with [my OTP] ending up with, if not each other – Lorca, with Burnham. Cornwell, with … hmmm … unless we go over into cross-over country I just don’t know. Dr. McCoy of AU Trek maybe?

My happily ever after for my OTP – a long-distance romance, occasional meetings on Starbases or Risa or other planets; passionate discussions about Starfleet policy over coffee; passionate other moments [wink-wink-nudge-nudge], shirtless Lorca ;^), followed eventually by retirement somewhere where they can have fun outdoors. I think they’d be hikers and sailors and really dig nature and space travel to many planets.

003. Character

[Ask: Philippa Georgiou]

How I feel about her – the writers gave her a raw deal at the Binary Stars, though she fought like a boss when she fought with T’Kuvma. If only Burnham’s entire subsequent story arc hadn’t depended on her mutiny against a fairly reasonable captain. If only Georgiou had opened with the Vulcan Hello per Burnham’s suggestion and opened negotiations from there. Or discovered the Klingons didn’t want to negotiate, and left the system to regroup with a group of Starfleet ships. OH WELL. Now she’s dead, and that’s really too bad, because she was a good nurturer to Michael. She did let Burnham and Saru bitch at each other too much; I’d have told those two to take it off the Bridge. They were being unprofessional.

Any/all people I ship romantically with her Hmmm. She was a bit of a cipher so far as that went. I feel like she has an old friend / lover she goes on shore leave with. Hetero or bi/pan? IDK. Not sure if she’d have a long-term fully committed relationship; I think she is mother to her crew and that takes much of her emotional energy, but she could’ve been like I hope Gabriel will be and have had a long-distance romance. We have not met a lot of people her age in Discovery except Lorca, Cornwell, and the admirals at Headquarters, and sadly, Georgiou is no more, so the point seems moot.

My fave non-romantic rel for this character – other than “mothering” Michael Burnham, we don’t see a lot of this either. Some fanfic writers have Philippa as Gabriel and Katrina’s Academy classmate, an idea that I really like, although in my fic, she and Katrina are the same age and Gabriel’s a bit younger. [In my headcanon Philippa’s an Academy grad and proceeds straight from there; Kat’s a practicing psychiatrist who goes to Officer Candidate School, getting her commission as a Lieutenant, then straight on to Command Training School – where she meets Lorca and they fall in love.]

My unpopular opinion about this character – she should have listened to Michael and prevented the Battle at the Binary Stars. But could The Vulcan Hello have prevented it? Who knows. The writers had their plans. Alas Philippa paid the price :^(  … she need not have died; the fallout from Burnham’s mutiny could have made for some sparks between them before Burnham went off for sentencing, and Michael could have been equally heartbroken that she had sundered her friendship for a battle prevention tactic.

One thing I wish had happened with the chac in canon – That she had listened to Michael. The Klingons might still have fought, but I feel Burnham was right with the Vulcan Hello and would have set the Klingons back a bit. [Shrug] But then there would have been no Lorca rescuing Burnham, no episodes 3 – 15, so … there we are. As I said above, she could have lived.

Favorite friendship for this character ­– Her friendship with Michael was not one of equals exactly, seeing as their ranks differ greatly. But I like the idea in some fics that she, Lorca and Cornwell are friendly.

My crossover ship ­– Haha, again, I’ve no idea, I don’t tend to think in those terms. Romantically? Matt Decker, before he lost his crew, got ASD and gave his life heroically to stop the Doomsday Machine, maybe. Or a stellar cartographer.

[niennavalier]

Tagged by @stillnotginger10!

What is your total word count on AO3?

156,790. Woah. I definitely didn’t think I’ve written that much.

How often do you write?

Not as often as I’d like tbh. I tend to write when inspiration strikes and I have the time. Those don’t usually both happen at once though. I generally squeeze it in at least once a week, but it varies a lot. (It does sorta shoot up in the middle of midterm season for some reason, though. I tend to really wanna write when it’s the worst possible time.

Do you have a routine for writing?

Nope. I mean, not even a little bit. I like handwriting things a lot more, but I’ve got no issues with typing stuff either. Sometimes I’ll do an fairly in-depth outline of what I’m doing with a story, sometimes I honestly just wing it and hope for the best. Half the time my notes on a fic end up in different places depending on what papers I had around me at the time. Long story short, I’m a mess.

What’s your favorite kinks/tropes/pairing?

I’m gonna start with the easy question: favorite pairing? Coldflash. Pretty sure it’s no contest at this point. Tumbled headfirst into the fandom a couple years ago and never looked back. (Although I also multiship, and it’s both a blessing and a curse)

Trope-wise...I always like enemies-to-lovers/friends-to-lovers stuff. Found family is also one of my faves that I’ve had for a while. IDK if this counts as a trope exactly but hurt/comfort is my jam - destroy my emotions and end happy is all I ask of anything. @kashinoha also got me into sickfic a little while back, although I’m writing it less now (partially cause too much of that tag for CF is my stuff...figured I’d back off a bit).

Do you have a favorite fic of yours?

Literally going back through all the things I’ve written to figure this out. 

Umm... Doubts and Things Deserved is probably one of my favorites just cause it’s the hurt/comfort-y Len and Coldflash fic that I live for. Tbh there’s some weird wordings and whatnot that I wish I’d fixed, but I still love it. I also go back to Smooth Criminal (because singing and Coldflash, need I say more?) and Heists, Holidays, and Head Colds (because fluff and humor and there are puns) pretty often. 

Switching gears, but Calm Before the Storm is another personal favorite of mine. It’s a short Hobbit thing and isn’t even posted as its own fic, but I like the OC I created for that story, and she’s since sorta demanded to have her entire story told. So it sorta got spun out into a whole AU universe because I like this character and her backstory, but it’s not one that I can take into original story territory.

Speaking of, Reminiscing the Past is also pretty special to me? It’s for YuGiOh and one of my older fics (so it’s not the best written and my style’s changed since then) but it kinda got me into writing? It also has its own set of original characters that have actually now sorta led me to reframe that entire story as an original work. So aside from my fanfic, this is actually my current writing project at the moment, and it just makes me happy cause I’m finally writing some stuff of my own.

Your fic with the most kudos?

Putting Things In Perspective (Coldflash soulmate AU from 7 POVs - aka probably the most technically difficult of my fics so it makes me happy). Okay, this isn’t surprising. It’s my most viewed thing and just topped 8k hits recently?? Wow, I love you guys.

Anything you don’t like about your writing?

That it rarely happens. I get lazy and writing feels like I’m procrastinating work, so instead I end up on this hellsite instead of writing OR doing work and I think you get the picture. I should write more often. I also feel like my writing is really fast, if that makes sense? I always see other people’s things and they’re these super long, really developed epics, and I have no idea why mine just end up shorter? Dunno if this is bad or not, but it sorta bugs me.

I also suck at action scenes. But that just is what it is.

Now something you do like?

I’m not sure if I’m necessarily good at it, but I tend to fold a character’s voice into the narration itself, and I love using that sorta thing to distinguish who’s narrating the fic/chapter (tbh that’s what Putting Things In Perspective is as a fic, and I’m actively trying to do that for Such Deliberate Disguises.) It makes me feel like the storytelling is unique, I guess? It’s also fun when characters take over the story. It doesn’t happen for me often, but it does on ocassion, and that’s always fun, even if my brother looks at me and says I’m crazy when it happens.

Tag some of your favorite writers:

Umm...I’m not sure who has or hasn’t been tagged? I know there’s a bunch of super talented writers in the Flash Trash chat that I haven’t really talked to yet, but if any of you see this and wanna do it, consider yourself tagged :)

(Or really anyone else in the Flash fandom, so many great writers here)

[bsinoranges]

In which it gets sappy

Tagged by the amazing @lethesomething!!

1. How did you come up with your username and what does it mean?

So uh. BS is actually short for bittersweet, but now it doubles as my in-joke for BS in whateverCourse -- hence the in. So BS in oranges.

Then it’s bittersweetoranges because i read this fic called bittersweet and it was damn good to me at the time. Also my favorite fruit is orange.

...I’m bot good at giving names nor titles. Haha.

2. Which fanfic of yours has the most feedback? (bookmarks/subscriptions/hits/kudos).

Hm. Overall, that would be my KuroYachi one-shot The Lights in the Sky are Stars. It was sort of my love letter to the KuroYachi ship, and so I’m not entirely sure if I’ll be able to add on to it.

For subscriptions that would be my still unfinished brofest piece, The Thief, the Witch, and the Fae. This one is my bid at making an interesting take on certain characters and dynamics in a dark fantasy setting. Futakuchi is the lead if only because @haruhi02 accidentally gave me his name when I asked for random characters.

3. What is your AO3 profile icon, and why did you choose it?

A freezing link from Breath of the Wild. Well, why not? Haha. I love Link, I love Breath of the Wild, and when I resurfaced back on tumblr botw recently came out and also the free icons.

(the rest is under a cut because it’s long and sappy)

4. Do you have any regular/favourite commenters?

Well. I won’t name favorites. Frequent commenters tho... they’d be my friends from chat, so shoutout to @lethesomething and @haruhi02 because you guys are great.

To be fair, I don’t think I post frequently enough for people to keep their eyes peeled for me.

5. Is there a fanfic that you keep going back to read again and again?

Boy, do I. Basically anything in my bookmarks are the things I regularly return to read. Quite notable, however is anything by bigspoonnoya. God. I love her work. From the HQ to the BNHA to the YOI.

6. How many stories are you subscribed to? How many do you have bookmarked?

I bookmark more than I subscribed. Buuuuuuuuut I’m subscribed to a grand total of 4 works, and I’ve bookmarked 62 fics.

7. Which AU do you find yourself writing the most?

Fantasy. Hands down. There’s three-ish urban ones, then there’s two full-on fantasy pieces. The rest are slice-of-life.

There’s just something about fantasy that makes me really happy. It might be the freedom to make, or that I like using fantasy as a substitute for when I want to comment on current events. But usually I like writing things that are fantastical.

Someday I want to make write a slice-of-life that makes the mundane fantastical, and then vice versa. If only because it’s the little things that steal my heart and imagination every single time.

8. How many people are subscribed and bookmarked to you in total? (you can view this on the stats page)

Four wonderful people are subscribed to me, while 12 are subscribed to my stories. For bookmarks, I have a total of 24. ^^

9. Is there something you’d like to write about but are afraid of people judging you for it? (Feeling brave? If so, share it!)

Many of my topic matter don’t really make much, if any, waves -- at least that’s what I think. I’m only afraid I can’t do justice to my dark/fantasy elements, because that would be a real shame.

10. Is there anything you would like to be better at? Writing certain scenes or genres, replying to comments, updating better, etc.

First it’s definitely finishing what I start. My multichaps aren’t incredibly long, but I worry a lot about continuation and future chapters that it spoils writing the present one, so I hope to work on that.

Next is my exposition and narration. I can only say “Name smiles.” so much before I think I write in a horribly stale matter.

... Does writing romance or any sort of sexual or romantic contact count? Cause, boy do I need practice.

11. Do you write rarepairs or popular ships more often?

Is YamaYachi popular? KuroYachi? I’m pretty sure they’re an okay and accepted ship. But in any case the rarest pair I’ve written is KuroYachi, and then KamaFuta. Because those pairs need more content, and I’m pretty willing to fill them.

12. How many stories have you posted on AO3 to this day (finished and unfinished)?

I have 9 works in total. Five of which are completed oneshot, and the other four are unfinished multichaps. See the trend yet?

One of the finished oneshots is the longshot Nowhere in the Sea. It’s the first fic I finished in my whole 17 (at the time) years of living.

Of my unfinished things, one of them is an anthology (that I should probably close since I’m not planning on updating anytime soon) and then the three fantasy pieces that has a lot Worldbuilding™.

13. How many stories do you have saved in/with your writing program?

H A H A.

Hm. So, I switch between Google Docs, Sublime Text 3, and OneNote. But there’s a whooping 17 unwritten stories in various states of disrepair.

I’m most excited for the YamaYachi one, and also the sprawling ensemble cast one. :D

14. Do you write down story ideas, or just keep them in your head?

I mostly keep them in my head. So they flit in and out of my memory like deadlines. On the rare occasion that I’m possessed by the idea, I’l have written the idea down and then some on anything I find convenient at the time (laptop, phone, or paper.)

15. Have you ever co-authored a story?

Yes. @haruhi02 was my partner for the hq fantasy fest thing. She was with me when I finished my first ever fic Nowhere in the Sea.

16. How did you discover AO3?

I was friends with this author back in FF.Net, and she had an AO3 account. Then, I branched off her fics to read the FE:A fics.

17. Do you consider yourself to be a popular or famous author in your fandom(s) on AO3?

LOL. Of course not. I can say, with confidence, that I am probably obscure.

18. Do you have a nickname or fandom name for your readers?

Hm...

19. Was there an author who inspired or encouraged you to write?

Fun fact, the first fan fic I wrote was an unfinished novelization of the Swan Princess (Nest Family Entertainment), and then an illustrated re-telling of Barbie’s Princess and the Nutracker. I started seriously pursuing writing around... the grade 5, when my bully of an English teacher said I had a talent for writing. If I had any it remains to be seen. But it was my friends back on FFnet. The likes of Mafi, and Tune, and Loke. They were there for me during my baby days writing for a fandom. We weren’t in the same fandom, but they inspired me so much.

Also I really like Philip Pullman and J.K. Rowling and thought it would be awesome to publish and write books.

Today though, it’s my friends in the chat who continue to inspire me everyday.

20. What writing advice would you give to a beginning author?

I don’t think I’m qualified. But if I should, it’d be to stay strong and welcome to addictive cycle of happiness and misery. Because there’s nothing like writing that one perfect scene -- it’s worth all the stress and the struggle.

Also. Writing is like wine, it get’s better with age, but it doesn’t mean that you like wine.

21. Do you plot out your stories, or do you just figure it out as you go?

I plot a lot. Like a lot. But I throw out a lot through the window when push comes to shove. Sometimes I’ll outwrite what I’ve planned or plan something new and then I’ll get flung into a crisis. Haha. Fun.

22. Have you ever gotten a bad comment on a story? If so, what did you do?

The worst comment I’ve had is spam on Nowhere in the Sea. I just wish I had more comments. #NoShame.

23. Is there a certain type of scene that you have a hard time writing? (action, smut, etc..)

Smut. A bit of action, but action is easier than doing the sexy.

24. What story(s) are you working on now?

I’m focusing all my energy on Amor Fati, which is my gift for the fantasy exchange. I need to finish that because it’d be sad if I didn’t. And, most importantly, I want to make my giftee proud.

25. Do you plan your next project(s) before you finish your current ongoing story(s)?

The plan is to keep up with my plans. I have no shortage of plans. Hahaha. But I do plan on finishing up Amor Fati then finishing either Scales or The Thief, the Witch, and the Fae before moving on to other projects.

26. Do you have a daily writing goal set for yourself?

Nope. It would probably be better if I did, but acads just eats a lot of my time.

27. Do you think you’ve improved as a writer since you first started?

I think it’s arrogant to think that I did, but I guess I did. I was 13ish -- two years after fifth grade -- when I took writing more seriously... And looking back my writing style changed. ^^

28. What is your favorite story that you’ve written?

I love all my stories for different reasons. To be honest tho, it’s what I haven’t written and am yet to write. I love The Thief, the Witch, and the Fae for it’s dark and heavy atmosphere. Scales for its hesitance and its secrecy. Amor Fati for the melancholy and for its world. Nowhere in the Sea for being my first in a lot of things (but also it’s magic system and world gdi). Lights in the Sky are Stars for it’s sweet fluff. Class Pizza for its tomfoolery. So on and so forth.

As much as I have a hard time looking at my writing, I won’t deny that I love them for the things that they are and could be.

29. What is your least favorite story that you’ve written?

... Probably my anthology? It reminds me of bad memories.

30. Where do you see yourself (as a writer) in 5 years?

Here, still suffering but instead out of school (hopefully) and knee deep in some sort of job.

31. What is the easiest thing about writing?

The planning and the talking and the crying and the reading.

32. What is the hardest thing about writing?

The writing. Or maybe that point between the first scene and the third. Something like that.

33. Why do you write?

Why don’t I? Writing is me. I’ve did things for the sake of reference, I’ve devoted a lot of myself to writing and the idea of writing. I love it. It’s an amazing way to express.

I wouldn’t give it up for the world.

Sooo. For tagging. @spacegaykj and @astersandstuffs and @slothesaurus if you guys don’t mind ^^. Feel free to ignore if you want. Thank you for the time.

Also double tagging @haruhi02 because I can.

[kittenwritesstuff]

Of misunderstandings and happy endings

Gif’s not mine!

Fandom: The Hobbit Pairing: Fili x reader Genres: mild angst, fluff Words: 1.510 Summary: Fili is teased about his blonde hair; by mistake reader says something about it which causes Fili to withdraw. Fortunately, Kili is there to save the day - requested by Anonymous

The evening was warm enough for a short stroll and that is what you are doing right now. After whole busy day of work, you deemed it more than needed – a stuffy, poorly lit shop usually makes you feel as if you’re suffocating but despite that, you love your job and wouldn’t change it for any other.

With a bow of your head and a bright smile you greet your neighbor as she passes by you. You smooth your jacket, tightening it a little and let your thoughts wander freely.

As per usual for past few weeks, your mind fills with images of a certain dwarf with a mane of gold locks and kind, bright eyes. Fili, Thorin’s nephew, was a frequent customer in your store, more often than not asking for your, and yours only, assistance. It was fluttering, you had to admit it, yet Fili has shown no sign of anything other than simple politeness.

His eyes never stayed locked with yours for too long, he was barely gazing at you, even when you gave him your whole attention. A smile, wide and warm, was plastered to his face, however it fell every time another customer came any near the pair of you. You had a hard time searing for the reason behind his timidity but your boss was fast to explain it to you, in a rather brutal, unpleasant way.

He called Fili ‘prince goldilocks’ with an evident mock in his voice and you knew why Fili always kept his head hung low, rarely spoke aloud too much. He was ashamed of having, quite unusual but not uncommon, blonde hair.

Frankly, it was something that, in your eyes, made him absolutely unique, unlike many other dwarves who visited your shop every day. You enjoyed watching as the sun found its way into his hair, illuminating the gold mane with warm orange light, creating waves of it. Soon enough, you caught yourself looking forward to his visits, only to be able to look at his hair for a moment.

Yet, you never built up courage to compliment him. You didn’t want him to misunderstand your words, most likely having heard enough teasing in his life. You couldn’t find decent words to verbalize your fondness without it being possible to misinterpret and it was the last thing you wanted. And so, you kept your mouth shut, opting to treat Fili with kindness and greet him with a smile, a bit wider that the one reserved for customers. You hoped that he might see it, that he would read the signs correctly and say a word when he’d be ready.

“Y/N?” a voice, the one you knew very well and, sometimes, dreamt of, rings from behind you and you look over your shoulder, a surprised expression on your face.

“Fili! Didn’t expect you to wander around in the evening,” you say, elation bubbling in your chest and a hive of butterflies comes to life in your stomach, prompting your head to spin a little as Fili comes to your side.

“It would be a terrible waste of a nice evening, not going for a walk. Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all.”

He offers you his arm, which you gladly accept, linking yours with his. The corners of his lips curl upward as you turn your eyes, surely shining brightly with excitement, on his. Fili opens his mouth but you’re faster, your lips taking over before your mind can catch up.

“Your hair, Fili, is the single most stunning thing I’ve ever seen.”

“W-what?” Fili knits his eyebrows, his forehead creased and you notice a bit of hurt appearing in his eyes. “Why would you say that?”

“Because it’s true!” you assure and gasp when he jerks his arm away from yours, halting in his tracks.

“I mean it, Fili, I truly do,” you try again, softer and more patient but Fili hears none of it. Guilt takes a residence in your guts as Fili shakes his head and turns around, quickly disappearing between buildings.

You sigh, biting on your bottom lip to prevent tears from falling. No point in dwelling on it, you think to yourself as you head back home, time to find a way to make amends.

_____

An opportunity comes two days later, unexpectedly and with a rush, in a form of no other than Fili’s brother, Kili. He storms into the store just before the closing time when you prepare everything for the next day.

“How may I help you?” you ask politely, although you start to feel irritated by Kili’s haste and the fact that he can nothing but pant as he catches his breath from the run.

He points a finger upwards, signalizing that he needs a bit more time and so you resume your previous task.

“Fili’s upset,” he says matter-of-factly after couple of minutes and you shift your gaze from noting the orders and onto Kili’s flushed face. His lips are parted and he’s still breathing heavily but his eyes are serious and worried. Guilt reappears in your stomach.

“Forgive me, I said something stupid.”

“You mentioned you liked his hair, right?”

“Yes,” you admit shamefully and Kili grimaces, nodding his head.

“He’s a bit sensitive about it. Since everyone’s deriding him. Mahal’s beard, he gets more jests and teases than I do for my facial hair. Or lack thereof, to be precise. Anyways, Y/N, do you fancy my brother?” he asks straightforwardly as he collapses on a chair in the corner, meant for you or any other worker to have a break from walking.

You lean against the table.

“I do. And I did not mean to offend him. I’m really fond of him, gold-haired or not. ”

“Wonderful!” Kili exclaims and claps his hands, startling you a little. His excitement is contagious and you feel yourself smile widely as he jumps from his seat and pulls you into a tight embrace.

“He doesn’t shut up about you, I swear. All I hear is ‘Y/N this’, Y/N that’, ‘Y/N wore this lovely green dress today’, things like that.”

“He-he talks about me?”

“Astonishing, innit?” Kili chuckles, amused by your shocked expression. “Now, would you like me to help you fix what’s between you? Or what may be between you and my dear brother?” he quirks his eyebrow, sporting a smug expression and you hesitate for a moment, before eventually agreeing to Kili’s plan.

After all, he knows his brother well.

_____

Kili had a plan. A simple one, admittedly, but you’ve learnt that simpler wasn’t always worse, so you decided to run with it.

And so, just as Kili instructed, you are now walking aimlessly in a spot he’s asked to wait. Then, he’s supposed to, somehow, direct Fili there so that it looked like the two of you are here by chance.

You hope it will work out. You only wish to have a chance to apologize Fili for your unfortunate choice of words and wrong time for such a statement. He’ll surely understand.

Fidgeting with your fingers, you pace the road, curiously peaking on the alleys leading to the main road. You assume Kili is going to, most likely, drag Fili there, using one of the alleys.

You’re growing more and more anxious as minutes pass with no sign of Kili and Fili and you begin to think that you were a victim of Kili’s pranks. Just as you are about to go home, an agitated Fili emerges from one of the alleys, grunting under his nose something that very much resembles curses.

“Good evening, Fili,” you say softly and his head snaps towards you, his eyes widening from surprise.

“What a coincidence, isn’t it?”

“Is it my brother’s doing? You and Kili, are the two of you trying to ridicule me?”

“No, Fili, believe me!” you take a step towards him, extending your hand to take his in a tender, soothing gesture.

“Kili only gave me an opportunity to amend my previous deed. I am sorry for my poor attempt on complimenting you.”

“It was a compliment?” he asks, sounding disbelieving, his mouth slightly parted and you flash him a reassuring smile, nodding.

“Well, then, I apologize for my reaction. I thought you were making fun of me.”

“Oh, Fili, how could I? Your hair is what makes you unique!”

“You really think that, Y/N? That I’m unique?”

“Yes, Fili.”

His lips spread into beautiful joyous smile and you can’t help but smile back, squeezing his hand tightly. Without hesitation, Fili laces his fingers with yours and pulls you after him.

“Would you have a walk with me? It would be a terrible waste of a nice evening, if we didn’t.”

“I’d love to.”

Two hours later, as you close your home’s door behind yourself, your hand gingerly touches a brand new courting braid. Your fingers slide over the bean that adorns it and you beam.

Luckily, Kili was there for the two of you and you can’t be more grateful for his meddling.

[goshiyachi]

Something underneath the surface

Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender Pairing: Hunk/ Allura Summary: Hunk didn't actually know how to feel the way Allura started to spend more time with him than he was used to. Prompts Used: Lions/ Mice @voltron-rare-pair-week

Or read in Ao3

The last thing Hunk ever expected was to be regarded anything other than a good loveable friend. For as long as he could recall Hunk was dubbed the teddy bear that made cookies when someone told him about a bad break up or when someone needed a hug to get over a bad day. He was the one people called for technical opinions, food related jobs and for overall emotional support. That was just how life worked for him; and for the most part he was okay with that. That was all his own heart could handle, he had a great family, nice friends and fun-ish teachers back in garrison. Out in space it was sort of the same. He had Lance to hang out with like old times, Pidge to geek over the advanced technology that they got to probe with and Keith…it was getting better after they all found out Keith was human garla hybrid. Coran was a nice addition the way he was easily charismatic with his wit and humor. The Lions were hella amazing the way they were a mix of magic and science. It was such a great discovery for himself the way he bonded with his lion; even if he got some motion sickness he was happy how cooperative the yellow lion was and how it quickly grew accustomed to him. It was something that would be never be able to explain perfectly the way he shared thoughts and talk to his lion with ease the longer he stayed up in space. Hunk could never get enough of this rare opportunity he was given most the time when he was caught with the present. It was easier that way; he couldn’t drag everybody down too much with his worries. He was already conscious of his nervous tics; that was why he couldn’t understand Allura’s mice and how his lion started to make him consider spending more time with the princess.

It wasn’t like he wasn’t attracted to her.

He was; the problem was Lance and his advancements (though they never went far) to pursue her. Hunk would never break the bro-code. And a space princess wouldn’t be the cause of a drift into his friendship with person Hunk considered family. He wouldn’t bat an eye or smile extra wide when she would strike a conversation with him. It wouldn’t be cool, and not mention it would be a dagger to the trust Lance put on him when he talked to Hunk about Allura. That type of pressure and negativity was not something he wanted to be a part of the way universe was counting on them to save them and for being the kind of person he was raised to be. Though he wished the mice and his lion could see his intentions with maintaining a platonic and professional relationship with her. It would make life calmer in some ways considering how often Voltron was constantly needed. He was a paladin and that carried a huge job that he was never ready for no matter how many times Lance and Shiro tried to consult him. that path that Allura gave him was hard to swallow; to say goodbye to everything he knew, to lose time away from his family and having to cater to the rest of the universe with a smile on his face. It was tough on his body to stay strong and falling in love was not in the equation. It was disastrous to even think about it when he talked to his lion because, it would always give him its own opinions about it being okay for him to give his heart to the princess without complications. The hums and purrs it would give him was hard on his ears. The toxic beliefs of Allura seeing him more than just a human guy was never fun to flush away when he baked. The process itself was long; having his hands busy and a mind bundled with thoughts that burned his skull and conscience.

Too tiring and something close to a death that was prolonged to be seen as torture. He knew that they meant well the way they kept him running into her. To see her hair sway, having her eyes making contact with his and smiling politely. He just couldn’t understand why so suddenly she make rounds to the kitchen and watch him cook with Coran. Why she walked alongside him and talk about Altea and give him more reasons to love her. She didn’t know how much it hurt him the way she laughed with him, and having to see Lance come into the picture with his flirting. Why couldn’t the universe understand, why couldn’t it stop spinning and turn back time. To have Altea still existing in a time where Voltron’s past paladins defeated Zarkon and not in the present where he was ripped away from the garrison and alone in many ways he wasn’t back in earth. His lies were starting to come out, his smiles were starting to feel fake and couldn’t ever blame anyone else but his stupid selfish heart. Hunk wanted out. He just wanted to forget Lance’s sighs, he didn’t want to live in a world where they didn’t know where Shiro was again. Or have to spend more nights making late night snacks for Pidge as she tried to locate her father and brother while making time to spend quality afternoons with Keith so he would know he wasn’t alone. He didn’t mind Coran but knowing he lost so much hurt his heart; meeting his lion was a blessing but when it tried to talk about Allura’s smile he couldn’t help but ache for a world where he was still back on Earth. Dispersing into millions of pieces was like the only solution; but it really wasn’t. The alternative still felt like plan Z, to just crack and allow her to get closer and ask why. Why so suddenly did she wanted to spend time with him when the universe needed to be saved and track down Shiro.

She liked Shiro didn’t she? Wasn’t that why she talked to him now; because she was alone once again and Hunk was seen as the best alternative to talk to like a good friend did. Other than that, Hunk drew blank why she would waste her time to come over to him. Shiro was handsome, brave and strong; someone that could partner with her during battle and be her equal. Lance sadly agreed too when he couldn’t keep his smile and aired out his fears. If anybody had a shot with the princess it would be Shiro. But her mice kept making him trip and trap him so she would see him and talk to him. He was so done; with the universe and his damn flipping heart.

“Why?” His own voice sounded raspy and hurt.

The mice looked at him blinking and Allura coming into view. He couldn’t stop himself from shaking his head with tears threatening to fall.

“Hunk? Are you okay?”

He blinked as he stared at the floor where the mice were as they ran towards her feet before jumping onto her shoulders. He didn’t bother answer her as he walked away as she kept calling out for him. He didn’t bother to respond even when Lance and Keith looked at him after witnessing him ignoring her for a couple seconds. All Hunk was aware that the longer he stayed out in hallways his tears started to fall one by one with his throat thickening. Food didn’t heal anything; lunch passed awkwardly with Lance trying to get him to spill and Keith of all people coming into the conclusion first. The look he gave Hunk was enough to make see how painfully obvious he could be. Neither said anything but they both knew that Hunk would have to explain himself with the rest of the group. Talking to Lance was painful; the way he couldn’t stop shaking and crying in front of his best friend for betraying him when he didn’t want to in the first place. He watched Lance absorbing everything and smiling softly, when he finished Lance was holding tightly. Telling him that Lance was sorry for now noticing how Hunk felt.

“It’s not your fault man.” There was a small smile on Lance’s face, “Its okay I don’t hate you.”

But it still didn’t stop Hunk’s feelings for hurting him.

After getting encouragement from Lance and his lion he let the mice take him to Allura. When he went to the control room he was met with her worried expression. She walked with careful steps and talked slowly for him, even with an ached heart Hunk’s heart painfully beating with a furious rate. His body shook, his hands felt slick with nervous sweat creeping in. His voice was rough from crying and huffing. Being a few feet away from her made him realize how such a good person she was, the way she concerned for him. He wasn’t fit for her to like him, to spend time with an overemotional guy that barely felt like he could be a paladin.

“I’m sorry for ignoring you.”

Allura nodded slowly before taking a closer step, “Are you alright now?”

Hunk didn’t know how to answer that. “Yes.” He almost left room.

With her so close she was able to grab hold of one arm, “Hunk.” She inched closer so their faces were inches away, “Please… feel free to talk about anything between us. I did not like the way you looked earlier. If you are in pain the--”

Hunk stepped back, “I’m fine.” The look Allura gave him was too much. “I’m sorry that worried you but I’m okay right now.”

Allura almost backed away but when she looked at him something snapped inside her to make her cup his cheeks and quickly kiss him on the lips before all courage could leave her body. He responded with a gasp and a whine making her end it thinking she had hurt him.

“I---Why?” They were still inches away, “Don’t you like Shiro?”

“Who gave you that impression?”

Hunk’s mind was speeding a thousand thoughts per second the way she still held his face, how she looked in pain the way he rejected her. (Him!) He couldn’t catch a break the way his lips tingled from her kiss and the warmth raiding him. “Well you two were always around each other. And he’s Shiro and…” his voiced collapsed, “I’m me.”

Allura’s face turned into a frown, “How could you belittle yourself like?” She kissed him again with more pressure, “Can’t you see how brilliant you are? Shiro may be a capable paladin but he does not hold my heart. You do you idiot.”

“Do not just assume where my heart lays before you close yourself off. Hunk holder of the yellow lion you are more than just a hero to the universe. You gave me hope for the future.”

Hunk didn’t know what to say the way his insecurities bubbled into his throat. To feel his own lips, try to tell her that she was wrong. But it was hard to find a place to cut her off the way she looked at him, how she held him so close to her and make him feel secure. The tension was slowly rolling off his shoulders the way she slowed down and him digesting her words. He wasn’t even shocked when his next words were blurted out causing them to smile.

“So you liking me is reason why your mice have been leading me to you?”

She looked a little flustered, “Ah, so you have noticed.”

“Well yeah kind of hard not to. But um thanks.” He blushed, “For liking me.”

Allura smiled, “As long as its mutual.”

Hunk laughed a little sheepishly as he scratched the back of his head before looking at her on the eyes with a full on blush coloring his cheeks, “Oh um, yeah you don’t have to worry about.”

[sentimentalscientia]

All numbers

1. Is there a muse that you wish gets more attention? If I had to pick I would like to play around with Itsuki a little more.2. If you HAD to choose, who’s your favorite muse?Mel by far. She's my original character and such a sweetheart I can't help but love her.3. Which muse is the trickiest to get into character for?Definitely Itsuki. He's an ancient creature with vast wisdom and experience. Has a comforting paternal presence. It's really difficult getting into the mindset of a parent that always seems to know what someone needs to feel better. 4. Is there a muse that not a lot of people roleplay with?That would be Itsuki. He's getting a bit more interest these days though.5. If you HAD to choose, who’s your least favorite muse?That would probably be Saint. The guy has a lot of darkness to him. If Mel's family hadn't gotten involved he would probably have ended up a serial killer. I definitely love him but he's my "least" favorite. Not by too much though.6. Which one of your muses have you been playing the longest?Mel. It's been over 3 years with her. She's my baby and the others came from her world being fleshed out.7. Which one of your muses has the most ships?Definitely Mel. My precious baby gets passed around more than a basketball. But that's what happens when you have an open heart like hers. 8. What is each of your muses otps? notps?Itsuki- OTP: Seiji/NOTP: Mars( Itsuki is not a fan of bottoming and acknowledging Mars as sexual invariably leads to being reminded Mel is sexually active)Saint- OTP: Xia( he technically shares it with Mel)/NOTP: Mars (for him it's a pride thing)Mel: OTP: There is just too many to list at this point/NOTP: Rene(vampire) or Belial (demon prince)9. Why were you drawn to each one of your characters?Mel was a character in my head since I was a teenager. My roommate introduced me to Tumblr and she was the only character I felt strong enough attachment for to actually try. As she got put into the world the others started becoming more prominent figures and I got curious how they would react as well. 10. Which muse is the most fun to write for?Saint. He's a roller coaster to play. I never know if he's going to be sweet on someone and play nice or just go raging bastard. He's only cordial if he wants to or has been ordered to. Even if the target can kill him.11. Is there another muse you’ve been thinking of adding or writing for? who?I actually have a side blog for them already, but I don't really like bringing them out. It's a pair of Cheshire Cats. They are twins and have an interesting background, but they are extremely over powered. I don't want to frustrate people with that but I can't get rid of it because that would completely change their concept. 12. What is something everyone should know about your muses before interacting?There's a few things to know. Most are going to be discussed in other questions so I'm going to focus on the issue of shipping.Mel- open marriage and bi. She's available for ships but unless its a pre established thing it's unlikely for it to happen fast. She does have a weakness for really cute people though.Saint- he's in an open relationship too, but shipping is very unlikely. He is capable of being demisexually attracted to women but is predominantly gay. He's happy in his current relationship. If he's been with someone before he might be willing to keep it going. But any new person he would have to be very interested in and get permission from his fiancé. Itsuki- Bi and in a committed relationship. He's completely unavailable for any more romantic shipping. It's a monogamous relationship but even if they were to break up he has no actual interest in relationships. He's with his current lover because they were his best friend and a deep love he had before his death. 13. What’s a weird headcanon you have for each of your muses?Saint is very well endowed. It's a running gag but he actually hates it. He's often scared he will hurt his partner. Thats why the majority of his partners he bottomed for.Mel has daddy issues. She has a big weakness for strong paternal figures, especially if they are of the ancient variety. In the main verse there's actually one guy she will call daddy in a sexual situation. Itsuki has several times pissed on an enemy's grave. It's used as a humiliation punishment for terrible people that caused a lot of suffering. 14. Which muse has the most aus or verses?Mel is an au queen. Plus unless it's a past au from before she was born she generally has a role in the aus of the others. 15. Can you sort your muses from youngest to oldest?Itsuki- (over 1,000 years. Not certain the exact amount)Saint- 27Mel- 23 16. Which muse is most willing to fight another muse?Saint is almost always ready to bust heads. 17. Do your muses get along with each other?They are family and they love and would die for each other. I think there's only been tension once when Saint called Mel a whore. He apologized very quickly and still feels like crap for it. 18. Would you ship any of your muses together? who?Mel and Saint are happily shipped together. The rules on incest are pretty lose with wolves, but parent/child is a big no no. So Itsuki would never be shipped with them.19. For each muse, is there a character you wish had a blog so you could interact with them?I do miss getting to interact with Dereks and Scotts from the teen wolf fandom. 20. Have you ever considered making a multimuse/is it easier having a multimuse?This blog accidentally became multimuse. It's more difficult but still a lot of fun.21. Which muse is the most problematic towards other muses?Saint's asshole persona makes him troublesome when it comes to interaction. I'm always worried he's going to traumatize someone or get himself killed.22. Which muse is most likely to make new friends?Being persistent and a sweetheart makes Mel the one most likely to get new friends. 23. Which muses’ fandom do you like the best?Technically they are all from the Teen Wolf fandom.24. Is there someone playing the same muse/s as you and you really look up to them?They are OCs so no one else plays them, and even the faceclaims are rare. 25. Which muse do people send the most asks for?I believe that's still Mel.26. Which muse is most likely to have kids?Mel and Itsuki already have them, but Mel's the only one likely to have more. Itsuki is unwilling and Saint is unable. 27. Is there a rule that someone keeps breaking for your muses?Not that I'm aware of.28. Can you sort your muses from weakest to strongest?1.Itsuki, he's ancient so he can best just about every human and most monsters.2.Mel is a born wolf and an alpha. That makes her stronger than humans and a lot of monsters.3.Saint, he was always a strong person and becoming a wolf amplified it. 29. Which muse are you considering deleting?I'm not considering deleting any of them. 30. Most importantly, are you having fun playing each one of your muses?It's a fun challenge playing all of them. Made me a lot more willing to try out another multimuse blog for Mel's pups.