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blu-joons · 3 years

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DAD NCT A⇴Z HEADCANON ⇴ Zhong Chenle

A ⇴ AFFECTION

Chenle will always try and be as handsy with your bump as he possibly can. It’s almost a given that whenever your close enough to him he will reach out in order to close the distance between you and hold you close against him.

B ⇴ BUMP

He loves nothing more then when he can cuddle around your bump, whenever your laid down Chenle will appear by your side and curl his arms around the top and bottom of your bump to hold you in place. He’s already ready to feel even the slightest kick or bit of movement from your baby and smile about it too.

C ⇴ CRAVINGS

As much as he understands that you crave certain foods during your pregnancy, he can’t help but exclaim in confusion sometimes as to how you can eat what you’re eating. A loud echo of laughter will often come from him as you walk back in from the kitchen as he tries to figure out why you’d want to eat such a thing.

D ⇴ DUE DATE

The two of you kept a countdown in your nursery for your due date, so it always lingered in the backs of your minds and kept you on your toes as well. Each day you’d go into your nursery and wipe the number off, lowering it by one as a reminder of how close you were to giving birth. As the number got smaller, both of your excitement levels continued to grow as you awaited the arrival of your baby.

E ⇴ EMOTIONS

Chenle loves to shout it from the rooftops that he’s becoming a dad, he doesn’t care who he disturbs. He’s very proud of the fact that you’re having a baby together and he’ll let anyone knows who listens. He’s beyond excited, especially when little milestones are passed, he’ll be sure to tell everyone just how well your baby is growing as well as what an amazing job you are doing of carrying your baby too.

F ⇴ FAMILY

Knowing how close Chenle was to his family, it came as little surprise when they tried to get involved in your pregnancy. It was a little overwhelming for you as they constantly bought gifts for your nursery and for you, pushing for the two of you to get things done whilst you wanted to work at your own pace. You loved their support, but there were definitely times when their support got a little too much for you to deal with.

G ⇴ GENDER

The two of you decided to find out the gender of your baby in the hope that it would make life a little easier for you both as your pregnancy neared the end. Knowing what you were having would at least help you pick out a theme and get organised with clothes and other items leaving you less to worry about when your baby was born.

H ⇴ HEARTBEAT

He curled up around your bump for the little moments, but one thing that did annoy Chenle was how he couldn’t listen to the beat of your baby’s heart so easily when you were at home. He hated that your appointments were the only time when he could the beat of your baby’s heart as he loved listening to it so much.

I ⇴ “I LOVE YOU”

After a day at work, Chenle would often greet you and let you know that he loved you whilst asking how your day was. He hated leaving you by yourself, and so when he came home a night, he was always quick to assure you that he was back and ready to help you and support you whenever you needed him to.

J ⇴ JEALOUSY

If he feels someone is overstepping the mark, including his own family at times, Chenle won’t be afraid to let them know and put them in their place. He’s not afraid to voice his jealousy, even if he’ll argue with you that it’s not jealousy but him just caring about you. He likes to be the one in charge and the main person around you to support you, so when others try, he’ll be sure to push them right back to where they need to be.

K ⇴ KICKS

Whilst he couldn’t hear your baby’s heartbeat so easily at home, Chenle could feel their little kicks most nights with little difficulty which he absolutely loved. He refused to go to sleep at night until he had felt at least a couple of kicks from your baby to leave him falling asleep with a wide smile of excitement on his face.

L ⇴ LABOUR

He was incredibly supportive during your labour and stayed by your side throughout. You didn’t want anyone else in the room but Chenle, and so he knew that it was on his shoulders to be there for you. Although there were times when he wished to run away and stop seeing you in so much pain, but Chenle knew that his own feelings didn’t matter whilst he was in that room and that his focus had to be on you.

M ⇴ MORNING SICKNESS

Chenle was far from a fan of sickness, but he was a fan of being there for you, and so he tried his hardest to forget about the fact that you were throwing up beside you when he found you most mornings and instead focus on the fact that you needed him and that there was no way he was going to leave you all alone.

N ⇴ NURSERY

The two of you loved designing your nursery together and recreating the things that you loved when you were growing up. It was somewhere you knew your baby would love, and a place the two of you fell in love with too.

O ⇴ OBSESSION

He was obsessed with your hold, Chenle loved when you’d go in search of him for a hug and try and wrap your body around him whilst also trying to manoeuvre your bump around as best as you could to reach him.

P ⇴ POST BIRTH

Chenle was very sceptical for the first few days after your labour and very rarely let you walk around without him being in tow of him. Despite your assurances that nothing bad would happen to you, he’d preferred to be safe than sorry and would keep an eye on you just in case anything did happen whilst he wasn’t around.

Q ⇴ QUESTIONS

He often reads up about different techniques that can help in pregnancy that he could try out, but he’ll never do any of them without asking for your permission first and making sure that you’re willing to give it a try too.

R ⇴ RANDOM FACTS

Throughout your pregnancy Chenle tries to hold onto as much as possible in order to make an album of the nine months. With it being your first baby, Chenle was determined to remember as much as possible and so would find as many material things as he could that he could collate into the perfect memory book.

S ⇴ SCANS

Although he loved receiving scan photos and being able to look over how well your baby was growing, your scans weren’t actually too big of a deal for Chenle. He much preferred physical signs from your baby rather than things like scan photos, things like kicks and wriggles were much more precious to him.

T ⇴ TEST

The two of you had guessed for a little while that something wasn’t quite right with you, and so when Chenle suggested pregnancy, you thought it would be best to rule it out, although that didn’t quite go to plan.

U ⇴ ULTRASOUND

He always made sure to clear his schedule for your appointments, work was never as important as an appointment and being there for you.

V ⇴ VISITS

It didn’t take long before his family were asking when they could visit, and whilst Chenle didn’t want to overwhelm you with them visiting, it didn’t take long before you encouraged him to let them round to meet your new addition.

W ⇴ WAITING

Chenle can certainly get frustrated at times when he realises just how long he still has to wait before your due date comes around.

X ⇴ XXXX

When there is no distance between you both, it’s almost a given that Chenle will press a kiss or two against your cheek too. He can’t help himself when it comes to giving you affection and making sure that you feel loved.

Y ⇴ YOU

You were his partner in crime, the two of you were in this together as a team.

Z ⇴ ZZZ

If he falls asleep by your bump at night whilst waiting for kicks, Chenle will always make sure to hold onto it tightly and try and support some of the weight so that it’s easier for you to fall asleep and rest with.

---

Masterlist

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wrienne · 3 years

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My Cheating, Amnesic Fiancé

Chapter 9: House of Bangtan

“That won’t be necessary,” you immediately said.

Hoseok shook his head while smiling. “I think it’s about time we get to know each other. Or what do you think, Jimin?”

Jimin stood next to Taehyung, chatting quietly when he turned around. “Did we really buy enough food for all of us?” he asked hesitantly.

“We bought the amount we usually do,” answered Hoseok. “And I seriously doubt she eats more than Jungkook.”

Taehyung opened his mouth to speak but Hoseok stopped him. “You don’t get to say anything,” he interjected. “What do you think Jungkook would say or do if he saw the way you treated (Y/N)?”

“Nothing. She doesn’t even like us,” said Taehyung stiffly. “He told me she refuses to go to the concerts or support him. She wouldn’t even congratulate him on our first win.”

“Are you serious?” You couldn’t help but raise your voice. “He has never invited me. I only came yesterday because my best friend had a ticket available. Jungkook even explicitly told me several times that he didn’t want me to come.”

“I sense a liar.”

“Taehyung,” said Hoseok before you could respond. “I know you’re hungry, but let’s stop with the accusations. There must be a reason why you two disagree. Let’s just invite (Y/N) on dinner so we can talk about it and get to know who exactly Jungkook’s mysterious family friend is. You can get to rummage through his wardrobe as well,” he told you.

“I appreciate the offer, I really do, but I have to get back to the hospital,” you lied. Okay, not completely since you had no idea what terror Jungkook might had spread among the hospital staff so far. But the first part was untrue. You were definitely not up for eating with six strangers, of which at least one was furious at you. “I only need his clothes.”

But then you got an idea. They had lived with Jungkook for the last couple of years, meaning they would know a lot more about him than anyone else, maybe even his parents. Perhaps a dinner wasn’t the worst way to get more information that might help you restore Jungkook’s memories.

Perhaps befriending the Bangtan Boys would benefit all.

“Besides,” you added shyly with this new plan unfurling in your mind. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“Please,” said Hoseok with a soft snort. “I wouldn’t invite you if I thought you would be intruding. Everyone has been curious about you and Jungkook ever since we first heard of you… what, five or so years ago? But I understand if you need to get back to the hospital.”

You checked your phone and pretended to contemplate whether you could stay or not. Jungkook would survive an additional hour or so. “I mean, I told Jungkook I would be back by six. School ended a bit earlier than I expected though, so I do technically have some time to spare...”

“Then you’ll eat. We bought too much food anyways.” He held out his hand. “I’m Jung Hoseok - J-Hope on stage.”

You shook it. “(Y/F/N).”

“I know.” He grinned.

Hoseok released your hand and walked toward the elevator doors. Taehyung pushed the button calling for the elevator, ignoring you as you approached the three guys.

“Park Jimin, but mostly just Jimin.”

After returning the grocery bags to Hoseok, Jimin held out his hand. You shook it also and repeated your name, then glanced at Taehyung. Jimin and Hoseok communicated wordlessly through their eyes when Taehyung refused to greet you.

“That’s Kim Taehyung,” said Jimin finally as he turned his focus back toward you.

“Don’t mind him,” said Hoseok. “He’s behaving irrationally, but only because he cares for Jungkook. He’s not a bad person.”

You nodded. It wasn’t as if you didn’t understand the guy. In fact, he was behaving much better than you would have should the roles have been reversed.

The elevator doors slid open and the four of you entered. Taehyung pressed the button for the ninth floor and the doors closed. He stood as far away from you as he could as the elevator took you up.

“So, (Y/N), how long have you known Jungkook?”

“Probably from the time I was born, since he was out in the world before me,” you told Hoseok. “What about you?”

“Since he was fourteen or fifteen,” he replied, then assumed a teasing expression. “He was shorter even than Jimin is now at the time he came to us.”

“Hey!” Jimin glared at Hoseok. “I have grown, too!”

“You have? I haven’t noticed.”

Jimin looked as if though he wanted to say something else, but he stopped himself when he noticed you looking at him. He cleared his throat and averted his gaze.

“He still doesn’t remember us, right?”

“I wouldn’t say no,” you said, feeling responsible for the hurt in his voice, then guilty when he glanced at you with hope in his eyes. You should have formulated yourself better. “...in the way that he might have miraculously regained his memories during the day. But the situation seemed unchanging this morning.”

Jimin merely nodded and looked away again.

“But I do have news that I would like all of you to hear,” you said, suddenly realizing you held a piece of information they most likely didn’t know. “I don’t know if Sejin has updated you on the situation but, there is still something we can do in order to restore Jungkook’s memories.”

The elevator came to a slow stop and its doors glided open on the ninth floor. Yet none of the people in the small space moved, including you.

“What?”

Taehyung frowned at you. Hoseok and Jimin stared at you.

“There’s a way to restore him,” you clarified. “Jungkook might still be able to perform with you in Japan.”

“That’s not important,” said Taehyung.

“Who cares about that,” agreed Hoseok. “Are you absolutely certain, (Y/N)? Is there a way to return him his memories?”

“Yes,” you said with a smile as you stopped the elevator door from closing. “I would like to explain it to all of you, if it’s possible. Are the three remaining members at home?”

“I would think so,” said Jimin. “Or did Namjoon-hyung and Yoongi-hyung say they were going to the studio?”

“Not what I remember,” said Hoseok. “Namjoon is supposed to help Jin-hyung with dinner today. And Yoongi-hyung is probably asleep as usual the day after a concert.”

“Let’s hurry then,” said Taehyung and was first out of the elevator.

You followed them into their apartment. Now, you hadn’t expected a home of seven dudes to be the cleanest in the world, but this was far beneath your usual standard. What had probably been equipped to handle a family of four or perhaps five, had turned into a home for seven bachelors, to be frank. You could only imagine how often they ordered Chinese food or fought for dominion over the two bathrooms you spotted on each end of the slim hallway running through the apartment.

Taehyung was quickest out of his sneakers and hurried down the hallway, with Hoseok following closely behind. “Hello? Is everyone home?”

“We’re back!” Hoseok called cheerily. “And we have a guest!”

You tried not to stare at the floor-to-ceiling shelves crammed with shoes and various beauty products that completely covered the eastern wall of the hallway. They were lucky no earthquakes occurred on the regular in Korea.

“‘A guest’?” came the muffled response, probably from behind a door.

“It’s a girl!” answered Jimin.

You tentatively zipped out of your boots, but kept your jacket on and the duffel bag still in your hand. Jimin had to unlace his shoes and leaned into the wall as to let you pass. You padded down the hallway, which opened up into a small dining room adjacent to a living room that was more like a storage room. Or actually, everywhere seemed to be the storage room. There were clothes and accessories and random items literally everywhere you looked. You weren’t a cleaning saint, but living even a week there would have driven you mad due to the disarray.

You didn’t know if that’s what made the apartment look much smaller than you initially had anticipated. Though homey, it felt cramped. Unorganized.

Frankly, it was a complete mess.

Around the corner of the hallway, almost like in a slim but deep alcove, was the kitchen. The mat-white glass separators had been pushed aside, allowing Hoseok to walk to and from the dining table where he and Taehyung had placed their grocery bags. He gradually filled the fridge and the tiny cupboards with their buys and smiled at you as he passed. “Anything to drink?”

You shook your head.

“Not even water?”

“No, thank you.”

“Have a seat,” he told you. “The others are probably getting dressed.”

You frowned, but his gaze was too knowing and his smile a bit too teasing for you to ask what he had meant by that. Taehyung stood alone by the small dining table, tapping impatiently with his fingers on one of the chairs as he looked from one closed door to another. He ignored you again, but his eyes narrowed when you chose a chair to sit on.

“Er,” you tried, knowing you and your parents had untold, designated places around your rarely used dining table. “Is this your seat?”

“That’s Jungkook’s.”

Great. If there was any kind of Jungkook-related gambling game out in the world, you would be its grandmaster.

Before you could come up with an adequate reply, however, one of the bedroom doors opened, revealing Rap Monster - or rather, Kim Namjoon - and Kim Seokjin, stage name Jin. Both looked as if though they had gotten dressed in a hurry: the tag to Namjoon’s shirt protruded from his neck and one leg was shorter than the other on Seokjin’s jeans.

Taehyung frowned at them as they exited. “You don’t usually hang out in hyung’s room,” he stated, nudging his head toward Namjoon to signify whose room it was.

“We were discussing whose socks these are,” said Namjoon as he held up something white. His eyes found yours and rounded in surprise.

“We figured they were Jungkook’s,” added Seokjin and nodded, also looking at you instead of Taehyung. “Besides, he is sleeping in our room.”

“Not anymore, I’m not.”

Jimin and the last remaining member of BTS emerged from the obscurity of the hallway. Suga, whose real name you had learned was Min Yoongi, regarded you with the same expressionless eyes he had when you first had met. His voice was low like Taehyung's, but whereas the latter’s voice was breathy and admittedly felt like soft, warm velvet, Min Yoongi’s voice was raspy, hollow almost.

“Well then, we’ve all gathered.” Hoseok crumbled up the plastic bags with one hand and gestured toward you with the other. “Guys, this is (Y/F/N). She has some news we all need to hear regarding Jungkook.”

“Hoseok-hyung also invited her on dinner,” said Taehyung sternly.

“Which she agreed to stay on,” said Jimin.

“Er, alright.” Namjoon approached you as he tossed the socks sideways behind him. He held out his hand. “I’m Kim Namjoon,” he greeted.

Seokjin stepped forward after you had shaken hands with Namjoon. “Kim Seokjin,” he said as you took his hand. “I hope you like your ddukbokki extra spicy - Kim Namjoon doesn’t know when to stop seasoning. And did you finally buy the right kind of gimbab, Hoseok?”

“Of course,” replied Hoseok. “Everything’s on the counter, it’s just for you two to start cooking.”

“We should take care of (Y/N)’s business first.”

Min Yoongi didn’t offer you his hand. You tried not to think about what that meant, but since Taehyung had disregarded introducing himself to you as well, you had an idea. Yoongi went past you, took a chair and gestured for everyone to do the same.

You did your best to avoid Taehyung’s face as you sank down on what you now knew was Jungkook’s usual seat. You moved to scratch your arm when you realized you were still wearing your jacket. It was fortunately warm inside their apartment - the floor heat soothing your usually cold feet - but rapidly getting a bit too hot for comfort inside your winter jacket. Still, it felt odd to spare a moment to shrug it off when the topic you would touch on was so urgent.

“So…” you began in a quiet tone. Their attention felt like bright spotlights on you and you fidgeted nervously in the chair. “There might be a way to restore Jungkook’s memories.”

#MCAF #wrienne #ao3 #bts x reader #bts fanfiction

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ranmanjuu · 4 years

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Hello! Sorry about the slowness of your blog, so here’s a request! How MC that can do Magic Tricks? Not Harry Houdini, but card tricks and making a coin“disappear”. Can you please do this with the Oda forces? Thank you!

ok so like,, idk what’s considered “harry houdini” magic and what’s not (from what i understand it’s illusion/escape magic [although that’d be a cool hc] so wow my ‘cut assistant in half’ idea is out the window..,,.,,. and i’m not sure if some of these are considered illusion magic or not). and also i don’t know enough about magic tricks at all and i just picked some mainstream ones and like,,,... one (1) trick that my brother could do. also i don’t have too much knowledge of how some of them work,, but here ya go:

—nobunaga:

the moment nobunaga told you to bring proof of you being from the future, of course your first thought was to get your purse. tipping the bottom up, all of its content spilled on the floor.

and while the lord was observing your phone, your own eyes landed on the card deck you brought from your last magic show. with a small grin, you picked it up, “hey nobunaga, instead of that go game let me show you something.”

he turned to you with an expectant gaze, “as long as it’s as entertaining, lucky charm.”

your grin widened, and the cards were shuffled expertly in your hands. pushing the rest of the items aside, you spread them out in front of nobunaga in a row, “pick a card, any card.”

his brows lifted at your request, but does it anyway. he pulls out one from the middle; a king of spades. “alright, now don’t show me it.” he’s a bit confused as to what you’re going to do, but he’s also intrigued. you pat the floor, gesturing him to set the card down whilst hiding it, and he does.

you tell him to pick a section to hide it in, and he picks the one near the end. the deck is shuffled again entirely, and you lay it down on the floor facing up.

“now,” you say, and nobunaga finds himself leaning closer to you, “i’ll try and pick your card out.”

he watches as your eyes sweep through each card, before pulling out a king of spades. his card.

“is this your card, ‘my lord’?”

he’s stone faced at first, then a small twinkle sparks in his eyes, “perhaps you’ll be much more entertaining that i thought. show me more, fireball.”

and now, between the ruthless games of go, you often show him the tricks you’ve learnt. it brings a sort of boyish excitement to him, and he really reminds you of your own audience.

and sometimes, he teases about you being a goddess of trickery, fishing his heart to be yours.

it’s quite adorable, to see the devil king be like that.

—hideyoshi:

the unknown and general foreign atmosphere from the castle was something you couldn’t bear most of the time. the distrust from hideyoshi, the rough personalities that were wildly different from your time—there was a limit until your soul had to take a rest.

and your escape was to the town. you were a magician, someone who entertained others. and you sure as hell weren’t going to perform for the castle! so you went to the common folks.

your bright and extroverted attitude quickly spread among mostly the youths; kids would often surround you with their hyper-energized excitement, and you’d get along nicely! you’ve started performing too, at the fields where the children play.

so each day, you’d come down from the castle with a new trick to show the kids. it’s a nice change of pace from the war.

meanwhile, hideyoshi was still very doubtful of you, and between what free time he had, you’d be gone from the castle.

however one day, he managed to trail along from a free day (one forcefully given by nobunaga). seeing you carry some suspicious items wrapped in cloth downtown didn’t settle right with him, so he hid in the shadows as you approached the main streets, and onto the place you usually perform at.

he sees you setting up some things on a table, said things still covered in cloth. a girl approaches you shyly, and you smile brightly at her. crouching down, the two of you began talking about something he couldn’t hear. and after a nod from the girl, she seemed to,,, hand you something.

uh oh, his alert is up! his hand mindlessly gripped his sword as you carried the bundle of unknown things and bellow the table. finally, it’s showtime.

more and more kids ran to your table, shouting excitedly about, “the azuchi magician is performing!”

and that couldn’t help but melt his heart, just a bit.

you were in a black and white kimono (a substitue for a tuxedo) and a hat he never seen anyone wear (top hat). he watches silently as you act out a silent performance, showing the insides of your hat empty. you pull out a black wand with a white tip (a weapon?! he thought) and tapped the hat three times. suddenly...

a rabbit jumped out! not only were the kids surprised, hideyoshi himself was gaping slightly too. were you some sort of enchanter?

as the show was over, the crowd dispersed. the white rabbit sat on the table being happily petted by you. a girl approaches you again—it’s the same as before.

you smile at her and gave a gentle pat on the head, “thank you for lending me your rabbit, tomoka! you really did help me with this one, y’know?”

the girl, tomoka, he noted, blushed lightly. “n-no. . .thanks for the performance, azuchi magician,,!”

the way you smiled, so earnestly like that to the common folk and treating them normally. . . maybe hideyoshi could start trusting you.

—mitsuhide:

most of your props were in your bag, and it was starting to cram the space inside it. so you sprinkled it around your room—it was the closest you had to decoration of your own. but it proved to be quite,,,, troublesome, so to say, for it to just lie around.

and you learnt such when you came to mitsuhide’s manor (as per his request) and finding him with all your things. all.

“so,” he began, and you fell the cold sweat creeping in, “it seems our little mouse is rather. . . noxious.”

“,,,, i can explain.”

“i’d love to hear why you have such peculiar items at your possession.” there was a smile on his face,,, but it felt like there wasn’t. you explained your future situation, and he listened in silence.

he hummed, and questioned each item you had, and you answered the best you can. most of it related to your profession, he noticed. but there was just one thing. . .

“then tell me,” he pulls out a sword, and your temperature drops a thousand degrees, “why do you have this?”

“ ,,,, i͟ c͟a͟n͟ e͟x͟p͟l͟a͟i͟n͟.”

you held the sword in your hands, all the while glancing up at the other every milisecond to see if your life wasn’t in danger. and with a burst of unknown confidence, you pulled the tip of the blade to your mouth, and proceeded to insert it deeper and deeper.

you couldn’t see mitsuhide’s reaction—you didn’t want to—as the sword got “deeper” into your throat. by the time you’re finished, if it were real, it would’ve ended by your stomach.

and slowly, you pulled it out, with a pathetic addition of, “it’s a magic trick thing too.”

your eyes absolutely refused to meet his, just opting to burn its stare into the ground. mitsuhide smirked. his suspicion was definitely there—but the innocent way you did that was just so cute.

“i’m beginning to wonder what your intentions are, shoving such a thing deep into your mouth in front of a man, in his quarters, little mouse.”

—masamune:

ever since masamune found out about your previous occupation, he’s always begged you to show them off (the more dangerous, the better). most of the time, you’ll cave in and do a really popular trick known in the community, then tell him off for a bit. it’s all in good fun, really.

but now both of you were bored, and you knew from experience in the case of the one-eyed dragon being bored, the time will only come before he wrecks absolute shit again just for the hell of it.

so you want to post-pone that, at least.

you pulled out three ceramic cups and a small gold coin, setting them on the table. his eyes were on you now, “what’re ya doin’, lass?”

you smiled with a tint of mischief, “how about we play a game?” at the mere mention of that got him to sit up with a wild grin of his own, “loser has to do what the winner says. anything they say.”

considering it’s masamune, you potentially had a lot on the line. but you were experienced enough—hopefully.

you explained the simple rules to him: you’ll put the coin underneath one of the cups, shuffle it, then he has to guess which one has it. easy peasy.

usually you’d do it slower or quicker, but again, it’s masamune. maybe he can slip a sight of what you did and if you lose, it’ll be a tiresome rest of the day.

your hands moved swiftly and expertly, shuffling between the three cups. and his eyes were trained on them like a tiger to its prey. and in the midst of all the sliding around, you passed the coin from one cup to another.

and once you were done, you set the three ceramic pieces in a row.

“pick, masa.”

his eyes were certain, full of confidence, as he pointed at the left one. a grin ripped its way to your face, when it’s revealed there’s nothing there.

his good eye widened a bit, before narrowing down in slight thrill. “ya really are a witch, lass.”

—ieyasu:

ieyasu wasn’t as expressive about his love in the public sometimes. he’d use an indirect and often contrarian way to do so—just like he did the first few times you met. and you yourself loved to give him little bouts of affection, mostly through words and the likes.

that day was a hot one, with the two of you just lazing about in his manor. you had your deck of cards on you, just shuffling them around mindlessly. as your mind wandered, you stopped as an idea surfaced.

with a small smile, you went out from the room ieyasu was in, just to write something on a card, and so he wouldn’t see. once you came back, he directed a raised eyebrow at you.

“hey ieyasu,” you call out to him casually, picking out a card from your deck. an ace of hearts, between your fingers and facing him, “wanna see some magic?”

his eyebrow rose higher, and you flip around the card between your fingers smoothly. his gaze trailed over each time you threw it up in the air, twisting your hand in mostly useless moves, and suddenly—

the card was gone from your hands. just like that.

for a moment, he was rendered speechless. the sight was adorable, really; his lips slightly parted and eyes widened just a crack.

the smile grew from your face, and just like before, you seem to materialize a card out of nowhere. without a chance to see it clearly, you put it in ieyasu’s hand facing down.

he flipped it. the ace of hearts, but on it were scribbled he words “i ♥ you"

“. . .you’re so silly, you know that?”

—mitsunari:

as a magician, certain props were set up for a specific trick. meaning they don’t work how it normally would; but such didn’t really bother you when your habit of shuffling cards while thinking came into effect.

but mitsunari, despite not noticing most things about other people, was highly observational. with a small smile, his attention turned from your lesson, the ones he taught you in, and unto the deck in your hands.

“yesterday the back of it was blue, and now it’s red. do you own several of these?”

you paused, looking up at his lilac eyes with a small grin, “yep. wanna know why?”

the way he tilted innocently was too much to take. so you opted to distract yourself by spreading every cards facing up on the table, “this is how a normal deck looks like, right?”

“yes, as i’ve seen from you before.”

the grin on you slowly widened as you got into your magician self, collecting the cards into a neat stack. you mimic casting a spell on it, swirling your hands above it as mitsunari stared at you, mistified.

once you were done, you spread the cards down again. one major difference stuck out: all the cards were now king of diamonds. every single one.

mitsunari let out a small gasp, picking out a random card and observing it from all angles. the way he looked so serious was a bit cute—you’ll admit.

only your giggle brought him back to reality. you collected the cards again, did the hand motions, and the deck was back to normal. aside from the king of diamonds left in his hand—which was the only one from the deck, coincidentally.

“—!” he calls your name with bouts of admiration, “you’re so miraculous! perhaps you’re a goddess blessed on us.”

you waved the accidental flattery he said, but a blush still got to your cheeks.

—ranmaru:

ranmaru was quite a childish one, you figure out soon. it doesn’t take talking with him long to see the way his eyes light with such innocent, child-like wonder. he reminds you a lot of the children you often performed for—the way he saw the world was so much alike to how their eyes filled with amazement each time you went on stage.

thus, it was soon when you invited him to your room with the intention of showing your skill off to him, just to get a feel of how it was like before you got dragged into the sengoku period.

you wanted to ease him in first, so you went with a small thing.

as the conversation of mostly random topics ran about, your fiddled and flipped a coin in your hand. his eyes would sometimes trail at how your fingers could balance such a small thing so quickly, quieting his voice by astonishment.

“ranmaru, wanna see something cool?” you quickly interjected the conversation. his nods were fast, eyes ripping away from the coin and to your own.

you threw the coin up in the air, occasionally balancing the small piece of gold with the tips of your fingers. one last throw, it lands in your palm, and you shut it swiftly. he’s watching closely, dazed by your minor performance.

you opened your palm; the coin’s gone.

“—eh?!” a surprised yelp escaped him, “where did it go. . .?”

ranmaru looked up to you for answers, and you just shrug casually with a tiny smile. your hands were taken in his, his own fingers flipping it around and even patting down the sleeves of your kimono to check if it fell down there. after no luck, his eyes roamed to the floor to see if you just threw it, somehow. nothing.

slowly, his head turned back to you, with eyes so filled with stars it could be a galaxy. “—! you’re a miracle! so cool, how’d you do that?!”

you’re right, he is like the kids you perform for.

“as they say,” all you answered was to put your index finger to your lips, and send him a wink, “a magician never reveals their secret~!”

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dirty-holy-things · 4 years

Text

The Space Between (your heart & mine)

Chapter 14 has now been posted to Ao3 & Tumblr; see below.

Catch up on chapters 1-13 on Ao3.

Notes: 18+, Explicit. Previous chapters reference past trauma, canon-typical violence. Din Djarin x F!Reader. Smut, Oral - Male Receiving, Oral - Fem Receiving, Praise Kink. Author takes artistic liberties with the Force for the sake of story development. See chapter notes on Ao3 for references to SW content and topics.

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You knew that you were past the point of no return. You knew that you were falling in love with this man, this faceless stranger that somehow seemed to know you better than you knew yourself; and you felt as though you knew him better than anyone else in this entire galaxy did. You didn’t need to see the face to know the man. You knew how the muscles and the veins in his hand flexed when his gloves came off, knew that he had curly hair, knew how he let the kid keep the small silver ball that had originally been part of the flight equipment of the ship. You knew that he slept curled tightly against you, wrapping his entire body around you protectively like a cocoon. You knew that a man who had built himself an impenetrable fortress out of beskar and isolation had chosen to let you and a small green creature in, to know him and care for him. The thought of all the years that he had been forced to spend alone made your heart sink, and you wished that somehow the galaxy could have brought you together sooner.

But you were grateful for every moment you had with him, even more grateful now that you had both survived what most would consider to be impossible. And now, you were safe, Din was safe. Your family was safe. What a beautiful feeling.

A note of love and thanks to @knivesareout and @soyelfuegoquearde for beta’ing this fic for me, and @bdavishiddlesbatch for her endless enthusiasm and support.

“Actually, you said love, for you, is larger than the usual romantic love. It’s like a religion.” - Richard Siken, Litany In Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out

The water of the fresher did eventually run cold, but it afforded you and Din both the time needed to recover from your respective climaxes and finish washing away the blood and dirt of the day. Your heart was still pounding at the thought of what had just happened here, in this small space; it was all of the fantasies that you had been hiding, covering up, locking away, finally coming to life. It was everything you had wanted, and it was fucking incredible. Din was fucking incredible. Your legs still shook as you climbed out of the fresher, drying yourself off before the dizziness and the exhaustion slammed back into you. You focused your breathing and energy, knowing that you would likely still need to help Din maneuver himself into bed. The two of you were quite a pathetic sight, having been completely wrecked in ways that you had never expected.

You had honestly been scared shitless when Din suggested you shower together. Almost as scared as you had been when you found him cold and unmoving next to his ship, his armored body looking broken in a horrifying and heartbreaking way. It had taken every ounce of energy you could spare to bring him back — you still remembered how the poison of the blade fought back against you, evading your attempts at healing as it coursed through him, being chased down by your desperate light until it was entirely eradicated from his body. You had been so terrified that you wouldn’t be able to save him, wouldn’t be able to bring him back — you would have poured your entire life into saving his, but for a moment you feared that even that would not be enough. Thank the gods that Din was just as much of a fighter as you though; and being on this planet, being attuned to the Force in new and stronger ways, you were able to catch a glimpse of how valiantly he had fought to stay with you. How he used your voice as an anchor to hold onto while the black waves tried to drag him away from you.

And as terrifying as that — what, thirty minutes? Could it really have been that short? — as terrifying as that period of time was, it was only marginally more intimidating and overwhelming than the offer of this new intimacy with Din. You knew that if you indulged him, indulged yourself, there would be no coming back from this. You wouldn’t be able to deny the desires of your heart any longer. You would let yourself fall for him entirely, trusting and hoping that he would reciprocate.

Gods, talk about some fucking reciprocation.

You had known from the very minute that Din had walked into your shop on Chandrila that he was fucking gorgeous underneath the armor. You knew that he was an incredible specimen, his body and armor a testament to every battle he had won and everything he had survived, making him stronger, more powerful, unlike any other man you had ever known before. And while you hadn’t known many men, you knew that Din was... above average, in many ways. You felt a shudder run up your spine as you thought of how he knew your body, knew your needs, almost immediately — as if he had known you his whole life. And while what he gave you, pressed up against the wall of the shower, your nails digging desperately into his scalp while you chased your high, was better than anything you had ever experienced — you still wanted more. Wanted to know how he would feel buried deep inside you, wanted to hear the sounds he would make, wanted to hear him call you his good girl. And you wanted to give him more, too— more than just your body, you would give him anything he asked for. You were a goner and you were entirely alright with it.

Having managed to find your clean clothing in the dimly-lit cabin, you pulled on a soft shirt and loose pants; you thought of the grisly clothes that now littered the floor of the fresher, and knew that those items were absolutely done for. Curiously, you wondered where Din kept his additional clothing and supplies. Not wanting to disturb him, as he was still recovering in the fresher — unmasked — you figured that it was a small enough ship that you would be able to figure it out without much difficulty.

You were right, and after cracking open the third cleverly concealed storage area you were able to find men’s clothing. You grabbed pants, underclothes, and a shirt for him, not sure what he would want or need. You crossed back to the fresher, knocking gently on the door to alert him of your presence. “Let me know when you’re ready. I’ll close my eyes.”

You heard the lock on the door click and you shut your eyes tightly, adding a hand to cover them for good measure. You had no desire to peek, no impulse to steal a glance, and you didn’t want him to worry over it. You felt a hand reach out to grab your waist, pulling you back into the darkness of the fresher. You felt the warm and damp skin of his body press against your clothed one, and you had a very sudden and strong newfound resentment for the incredibly comfortable clothing you found yourself in. Swallowing around the lump in your throat, you held out the clothes in what you ascertained was his general direction. “I was able to find these. Your — your other clothes are wrecked.”

“Thank you,” he said gently, his thumb tracing slow and gentle circles into your hip. He kissed your shoulder lightly before letting you go and proceeding to dress himself. You heard the metal clanging of the helmet in the sink, and sighed as you knew it was time for him to put it back on. “Could —“ he started nervously. “Could you give me just a minute in here, alone?”

“Oh, s-sure, yeah, I’ll just go then —“ You sputtered nervously, afraid that you had done something wrong. Maybe he was upset that you went through his belongings, or regretted what you had done before —

“There’s... ah, well, the inside of the helmet needs to be cleaned.” He grasped the helmet in his hands and you could feel the beskar putting distance between your bodies. “There’s blood and who knows what else in it, and I don’t... I don’t want to put it back on.” He paused for a moment and your heart raced as you waited to see if he would add anything else to that sentence. “I don’t want to put it back on if it’s still a mess.”

You nodded to yourself, chastising yourself for reading way too much into something that was simply a matter of practicality. Of course he wanted to clean it up before putting it back on, why had you thought any differently? “I’ll be in the bunk, if... if you want to join me?” You resented the way your voice went up in pitch at the end, sounding desperate and childish. You couldn’t understand why you were acting so awkwardly, as if he had not slept next to you before, as if he had not become intimately familiar with your body. Why the sudden sense of shame?

“I’ll see you soon,” his baritone voice echoed, a promise that he would join you in the bunk. You loved how his voice sounded without the modulator, deep and warm and velvety, maybe just the smallest hint of spice and brusqueness. You could have listened to him forever.

“I’ll see you soon, Din.” You kissed his cheek before turning on your heel, closing your eyes and covering them with your palm as you stepped back into the lit cabin. You saw that the cradle was still floating undisturbed and were glad that the kid had managed to sleep through... well, everything. You didn’t want to have to try and explain anything that you didn’t have any explanation for. You climbed into the bunk, sinking into its cushions with a groan as your body realized it was finally was going to get the rest that it had been so desperately crying out for. You could feel the waves of exhaustion rolling over you and rocking you to sleep; you wanted to wait until Din joined you though, wanting to be able to say goodnight and maybe kiss him one more time, just to reinforce that what you experienced earlier was real — not some panic induced fever dream or hallucination.

After what felt like an eternity, you felt him climb into the bunk with you, wrapping his limbs around yours and pulling you into him closely. You sighed in contentment as you relaxed into his arms, his name passing through your lips ever so softly. You could tell that the lights were off, and you hoped that meant his helmet was off too — and when you rolled over and placed your palm onto his stubbled cheek, you smiled and leaned in for a kiss. He kissed you slowly and deeply, almost as if he was also trying to convince himself that this was real. “Goodnight, sweet girl,” he whispered softly, planting a gentle kiss onto the side of your nose as he had done once before. You laughed and kissed the side of his nose as well, before nestling your head into his strong chest and letting sleep overtake you both.

***

You awoke the next morning to the sound of Din snoring softly next to you, his arms holding you tightly against his chest as it rose and fell with each breath that said he’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive. Yesterday was real, in all of its horrors and highlights, and yet you were both still here waking up in each other’s arms. You reveled in the sensation of him pressed against you, grateful for the small bunk that was only constructed for one person, as it meant you were as close to him as you could possibly be. You loved the warmth that he radiated, loved the smell of his soap on his skin, the small things that were so uniquely his, that only you would know. The cabin of the ship was still dark, so you felt comfortable with shuffling up to kiss his chin, his cheek, and the tip of his nose. Stopping mid-snore with a startle, his arms gathered you closely to him and his hands ran across your body, sighing in contentedness and not wanting to wake up just yet. Deciding to indulge him, you allowed him to sleep, and sleep eventually came back to claim you too.

***

You weren’t sure how much time had passed when you felt Din extricate himself from the bunk and begin redressing himself, but the light within the cabin that he turned on felt horribly intrusive as you weren’t ready to wake up just yet. You rolled over with a loud grumble, pulling the blanket tightly around yourself and stretching your body out to enjoy the newly opened expanse of the bed.

However, when you heard the entrance to the ship opened, you sat upright so quickly that your eyes and brain took more than a few moments to acclimate to the sudden change in latitude. Where was he going?

You weren’t sure if he was somehow able to read your thoughts now, but an explanation carried through the ship, the modulator hiding the voice you had heard the night before. “I’m going to load the quarry and then I’ll be right back.”

You nodded to yourself and laid back down, feeling more comfortable and secure knowing what he was doing. However, your comfort only lasted for a few minutes more as the sound of Din freezing the body in carbonite disturbed the kid’s sleep. You heard soft cries coming from the cradle and you sat up with a heavy sigh, dragging your hands across your face as you tried to dispel the last bits of sleep that were lingering hopefully. Standing, your legs felt marginally more stable than the night before, and you retrieved the crying kid from his cradle, bouncing him against your hip as you waited for him to fully wake up and calm back down. You bustled around the cabin in your sleep clothes, procuring something to eat for the kid and some water for yourself. What you wouldn’t give for a cup of caf at Aumiyat’s.

An idea came to you; Din didn’t yet know how you and the kid had spent your days apart. Maybe, if he could spare the time, you could introduce him to Ixxith and show off some of the talents that you and the kid had worked to develop. As you waited for him to return to the cabin of the ship, you wrung your hands nervously at this idea of sharing this with him, something that had been so repressed and private. After Grogu had finished eating, he trilled at you to pick him up and you got the feeling that he was wanting to show off as well. Setting your mind to it, you decided that you would make the offer to Din and let him decide.

He strolled back into the ship and began to make pre-flight checks. Stepping forward with the kid in your arms, you steadied your voice before speaking. “Grogu and I learned a great deal here, from a temple leader named Ixxith. We would like to see them again before we depart, if there’s time to do so.”

Your proposition was unnecessarily formal as Din only nodded in response, and waited for you to lead him to the temple. You grabbed a thick jacket, tucked a blanket tightly around Grogu; and you noticed that Din grabbed what appeared to be a dense, grey woolen cape and drape it around his shoulders.

Mmm, broad fucking shoulders. Strong arms. Can pin me against the wall with those.

You shook the thoughts from your mind, trying to focus on the journey at hand. Din tapped a button on his vambrace that made the cradle follow next to him. “I need one of those,” you joked, reaching out to run your fingertips along the beskar. “Might help keep the kid out of trouble.”

“That would take a miracle.”

The two of you shared a laugh, knowing the story of the kid’s attachment to the shiny silver ball and the wampa toy you had acquired for him on Coruscant; his persistent and insistent curiosity certainly kept you all occupied. You stepped out of the ship and back into the world of the Bardottans that had brought you strength in your connection to the Force. You practically danced along the cliffside path, finding confident and sure footing with each step of the journey as Din moved along more slowly behind you, his steps more consciously chosen.

You ran up to the Bardottan woman who had set you on your journey, and smiled at her as you approached, Grogu cheering behind you. “Einama, so good to see you!”

“And you as well!” She smiled, coming over to hug you tightly. You didn’t think you would ever truly get enough of this, the physical touch and connection. Having been so isolated and rejected for so long, you felt as though the galaxy was limitless in its opportunities for connection, and you were incredibly grateful for it. “I see my green friend has returned as well. Don’t worry little one, I’ve got food to share if you’re hungry.” She handed the kid a leg of... something, and he began to tear into it excitedly, his razor like teeth glinting. That was the only intimidating thing about him. Einama turned to face Din, her eyes taking in the sight of his beskar and armor. “Mandalorian. We are grateful for your capture of the smuggler.”

Din shuffled awkwardly, and you suddenly realized that you were not all speaking the same languages; the Force had lent itself to an ability to easily understand and communicate in foreign tongues, but you were the only one here who could translate. “She said that the people here are thankful to you for catching the smuggler,” you said, having to concentrate on your words and the way your mouth formed them as you slipped back into Basic, realizing you would have to act as a translator for the group.

“You can understand her?” Din asked, his voice holding a mix of both fear and wonder.

You nodded, suddenly conscious of yourself and worrying that Din might feel uncomfortable with this. He stared at you, his visor focused directly on your eyes, and you felt your cheeks grow hot at your admission and sense of anxiety that he would somehow be upset with you.

“That’s... incredible.” He finally said, the wonder overriding the fear that had previously been present. “Can you understand every language?”

You felt the blood receding from your burning cheeks as you sighed in relief, thankful that he wasn’t upset, and also preening a bit because he seemed so impressed with you. The fearsome bounty hunter, with a jet pack and blaster, was impressed by you. “It depends on the language. We spoke Basic on Eadu, but when travelers came through I was always able to… understand the languages they spoke. Some are easier for me to speak and understand, but ones that I haven’t come across before take a lot more effort.”

“And you can communicate with her for me? As a translator?”

“Most likely. It’s hard to, sort of, manipulate the Force to allow me to jump from one language to another. But I can try.” You had never been faced with this prospect before, as this propensity for languages had been one of the many talents that you had kept to yourself. You had quickly learned that these intriguing abilities would attract attention, and that was something that had never done you any favors before.

Din nodded, trying to understand. “Can you tell her that I know where the smuggler was hiding the items? The ones that she hadn’t sold yet.”

You turned back to Einama and tried to recall the way that the Bardottan language had felt when you had spoken it before. It took some more focus, but eventually you were able to find the words again. “Einama, my companion knows where some of the stolen items are hidden, ones that had not been sold yet.”

She clapped her blue, webbed hands together in excitement and made noises that were unmistakably noises of joy — that was apparent regardless of language. “You should go to Ixxith. They will be very glad to hear this news.”

Turning to face Din, you relayed her request. “We’ll go on to the temple, to meet with the spiritual guide. They will want to know about the items, and Grogu and I can possibly show your some of our other skills.” You smiled at him, hoping that he wasn’t too uncomfortable with this proposition — you didn’t know much about the Mandalorians and their connections with the Force. He nodded and stepped forward, trusting you to guide him on this new journey. You hugged Einama one last time and whispered both a thank you and a goodbye before departing.

The path to the temple had grown familiar to you, despite having only been here for about four standard days. You realized that you would miss this place, knowing that Din’s work — and yours, too —would necessitate that you say goodbye to the two friends you had made here. Such is the life you had chosen for yourself; and while you knew that Din would not force you to go with him, you also knew that given the choice, you would not choose to stay here without him. That was a goodbye that you were not willing to endure.

Crossing under the great stone arch of the temple, you gazed up at the artwork that filled it, committing each new sight to memory. You felt the charge in the air around you as you stepped back into this place that had offered you new powers and strengths. Ixxith was once again meditating, hovering off the ground but swaying back and forth gently. They noticed your presence and stepped down onto the cool grey stone, a tranquil smile on their face as you approached. “I sense excitement within you,” Ixxith observed.

“My companion,” you began, gesturing towards Din, “has located the smuggler, and her store of stolen goods. He can provide you directions to them so they can be retrieved.”

“That is good news indeed. Have you come to tell us goodbye as well, seeing as the job is over?”

“Yes. But I would also like to show my companion some of my new skills.”

“Do you trust him?” Ixxith asked, and the bluntness of their question caught you off guard. You had never once questioned if you trusted Din; from the moment he had walked into your shop on Chandrila you knew that you could trust him. How thoughtful of Ixxith to ask this of you; sharing this progress was incredibly personal and revealing, and you appreciated that Ixxith was concerned enough with your wellbeing that they thought to ask.

You nodded at Ixxith, a wordless answer that still carried an enormous amount of weight. They nodded in response and extended his arm, an invitation to share whatever you desired. As you pondered what you would like to display first, you settled on something that Din had seen you do before so as not to scare him. You looked at Grogu, an eyebrow raised as you projected to him what you would like to do; he raised his little fists and grinned in excitement at your proposition. “Alright, so I’m certainly no Jedi, and I’m only able to do half of this stuff because I’m on this planet, but I wanted to show you a few things that I’ve been able to learn,” you babbled nervously to Din.

“You shouldn’t undervalue yourself like that,” Din said quietly, his voice only barely echoing across the polished stone walls. You felt yourself blush at his unexpected and public compliment, until you remembered that he was speaking Basic.

You smiled nervously at him as you took a few steps away from Grogu’s levitating cradle; reaching a hand out in front of you, palm open, you felt your eyes drift half-closed as you sank deeper into the radiating energy around you, feeling your grasp on it strengthen as you worked to manipulate it to your will. Through your half-lidded eyes you saw the kid rise up out of his cradle and hover steadily in the air; and curling your fingers back towards your chest, he moved through the air as though he was being carried until he landed squarely in your arms. As the weight of the kid landed against you, you felt a huge gust of an exhale move through you as your body worked to come back from that exertion. However, instead of that movement feeling like a marathon, it now felt like a warm-up. With each training, you grew stronger and stronger.

You waited for Din to say something in response, but you got no such reinforcement. Trying not to dwell too deeply on it, you placed the kid onto the ground next to you as he had an idea of something to share as well. Ixxith had picked up on the kid’s idea, and with a smile, they procured a piece of wood that had been set aside to keep the tall fire burning in the center of the temple. They placed it in front of the kid and you all stepped aside to watch what would happen next. You saw the wrinkles in Grogu’s forehead deepen with concentration, and you felt the energy around you shifting as Grogu pulled it and manipulated it, and then suddenly — the log burst into flames, yellow and red and orange that licked up the side of the wood, leaving black char and charcoal in its wake. “That was excellent, Grogu!” You said, praising the kid for his impressive feat. You had not yet managed that skill and had seen how long it had taken him to develop it.

Din still hadn’t commented on anything that he had seen. Maybe after having traversed the galaxy for years, he wasn’t as impressed by this show as you were. Or maybe he thought you were a freak, and he was going to sprint back to his ship and leave you here.

Ixxith’s voice carried across the temple to you, offering a gentle suggestion. “You worked exceptionally hard on another skill, my friend. I believe it would be appropriate to show this, and be proud of it. Few have been able to do what you have.”

Ixxith was right. Whether Din was impressed or terrified, you had still developed yourself and your strength in ways that you had never thought would be possible, and you would no longer live in fear of yourself or hide out of shame. Setting your mind to it, you prepared yourself for what was the most taxing task yet — cloaking.

Hiding yourself was something that you had gotten quite good at, after a lifetime of abuse and distrust and exploitation; so it came as little surprise that this was something you had managed to do. Settling your body against the cool stone of the wall, you felt Din’s gaze follow you. He hadn’t run away just yet, so that was a good sign. Breathing deeply, you sank back into the stone that supported you, and visualized yourself growing smaller and smaller, more and more transparent with each passing breath. You wrapped the Force around your body like a cloak, feeling the heat and the buzzing energy of it surround your body as you worked to influence its perception, so those who were looking at the wall saw nothing but the smooth expanse of stone.

Feeling effectively camouflaged, you sat with this feeling for a bit, understanding that this ability had been constructed on your need for survival. As a child, you repressed and cloaked your own talents, hiding them from the world and working to blend in; however, being so young, you were often unsuccessful or had less of a desire to engage in the masking that kept you safe. Unnoticed. As you grew older, all you wanted was to be able to fit in, to blend with the world around you and carry out your life unseen and without any attention. And as you found your uses within Orron’s world, you had continued to hide yourself in both old and new fashions. You continued to hide your expanding abilities from him, not wanting to be exploited or used in another manner, as you were certain that if he knew you could do more, he would force you to do more. You also worked to hide yourself from his blinding rage and had, on a few occasions, deflected or evaded some of his harsher blows.

You had already lived a life of forced camouflage, so of course you were able to bend it to your will now. It was a skill you had been developing since you were old enough to walk. At first you had been saddened to come to this understanding, but as Ixxith had coached you, you acknowledged the feeling, sat with it, understood it, and then turned your focus back to the present and the future ahead of you.

Feeling yourself grow tired at the exertion that cloaking required, you let go of your grasp on the Force that had blanketed you and kept you concealed. You saw a proud look on Ixxith’s face, a happy look on Grogu’s face, and... nothing from Din. No cues, verbal or otherwise. You felt somewhat deflated by this, as you had been hoping to impress him or at least help him feel more confident in your own ability to keep yourself safe. You pushed yourself off of the stone and walked back to the group that was waiting for you with varying levels of excitement. Din pulled a device from his side that projected a map of the planet, that highlighted an area that seemed to be several miles away from where you were currently located.

“Can you tell them that this is where the artifacts are hidden?” Din finally spoke, his voice giving you absolutely zero indication of what he thought about what he had just witnessed. You pursed your lips and nodded, feeling somewhat angry and resentful that you had shown something so deeply personal and had gotten nothing in return.

Trying not to dwell on that feeling for longer than necessary, you explained to Ixxith where the items could be found. They thanked you heartily, and then stepped away for a moment, only to return with a metallic cord that held a teal-colored crystal. It was a necklace, you realized, as Ixxith handed it to you. They hugged you tightly and thanked you for the shared information. “Take this with you, and do not forget what you have learned here. Do not forget me. More importantly, do not forget who you are, even if you are not sure who that person is just yet.”

You put on the necklace and thanked Ixxith again before turning to leave the temple. You were still upset with Din — he knew that you had been incessantly targeted and exploited for your Force abilities; and here you were, proudly showing him something that you had fought so hard to keep secret, and he gave you absolutely nothing. You knew that he was a man of few words, but this complete radio silence filled you with anger to the point your vision seemed a little bit red. Your footsteps carried you out of the temple as you assumed he would get the point and follow you, but the absence of noise caused you to pause for a moment as you stepped just outside the temple walls.

Not wanting to turn around and show weakness, you focused in on the sounds that you could hear within the temple, straining to understand what was happening without being able to rely on your sight. Suddenly, you heard a familiar Bardottan voice echo through the walls. And it was speaking... Basic. Not Bardottan.

“Your two friends are exceptionally powerful with the Force. There are many who will come looking for them. Are you prepared to keep them safe?”

Your heart raced as you listened further, needing to know how this conversation progressed.

“I am used to avoiding the eyes and the grasp of the Empire.”

“Ah, but it will not only be the Empire who comes looking for them. The New Republic, as promising as they may seem, seek to extend their power. I would hate to see them utilized for political gain.”

“How can I keep them safe?”

There was a long pause.

“I wish that I had an answer for you. Sadly, there are so few parts of this galaxy that have not been touched by political and religious ideologies that I fear nowhere is safe.”

You strained to hear the conversation that was growing quieter, trying to pull the sounds closer towards you.

“I would give my life to protect them.”

“I believe you, and yet let us hope that it does not come to that. You are strong in many ways, Mandalorian. Many ways that you may not yet realize.”

“Such as?”

“Something that is much stronger than even the Force.”

You and Din both waited for an answer, waited for the incredible insight that Ixxith offered.

“Love.”

#Din Djarin #Pedro Pascal #Din Djarin fic #Din Djarin x Reader #the mandalorian #Mandalorian fanfic #Din Djarin fanfiction #the space between

8 notes · View notes

lemonjoonah · 6 years

Text

Let the Villain Win (M)

Word Count: 5K Rating: M Genre: Thriller, Drama, Author AU Warnings: Smut scene (Oral m. and f. receiving, Fingering), Yandere Namjoon, Stalking, Drugging, Kidnapping Pairings: Namjoon x Reader, Mention of Seokjin x Reader

Summary: Kim Namjoon, famous author and your childhood friend has been keeping a secret from you. His new book treads on such dark themes that he’s finding it difficult to write. Excited by the prospect of a sinister plot you offer him a piece of advice, “Let the villain win…”

...

You look to the building pile of manuscripts on your desk, curling your lip over the prospect of reading them. You’re sure that some of them will be good, a couple of them might hold your attention, but none of them are the story that you truly want to read, the one that you are waiting for, the one that was due three days ago...

“I’m going to kill him.” You mutter to yourself while taking a sip of tea. Kim Namjoon, one of the finest thriller authors ever to be published, and your best friend since childhood. You have the privilege to represent him as his literary agent, but that comes with its setbacks. Namjoon never seems to take you seriously when you set a deadline. Even now he’s off gallivanting somewhere, refusing to answer his calls or texts until he returns from his ‘creative space’.

You look over to his house across the street for the hundredth time since his departure. Every time you had glanced over the windows remained dark, but now your patience has finally been rewarded with a glow emanating from his curtains. You set down your mug haphazardly and check your phone. Your anger grows when you see that he failed to notify you of his return.

Forgoing your jacket, you dash across the gap between your dwellings the rain pelting you as you cross the narrow street. You stomp up to his porch, and pound on door as if the wooden barricade is at fault for his actions. “Open the door Kim Namjoon, I know you’re in there!”

You hear his voice call through the door. “I don’t know, my agent taught me not to open to door for any crazed fans.”

“Namjoon, please?” You try to appeal to his softer side. “It’s raining and I don’t have my spare key.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” He chuckles as he unlocks the bolt for you to enter. “I’ve only been home twenty minutes. I’m impressed, you must’ve been watching out for me.” A bright glowing smile greets your look of frustration.

Now being his childhood friend isn’t the only obstacle you’ve encountered in your professional relationship. In addition to his talent as a writer, he is also blessed with devilish good looks. Dark eyes that pierce your heart every time he looks to you, warmly toned skin that calls to your fingers, and lips so full that a simple smirk often drowns the fabric between your legs.

Shaking off those thoughts you try to focus on the your anger towards him,“Where the hell were you?”

“So vulgar,” he chastises you. “I missed you too.” He pulls you into a hug despite your damp clothes, and rubs his cheek against your wet hair.

“Two weeks, two weeks with no contact!” You pull away from from his arms.

“Sorry,” he scratches the back of his head and looks down.“Thanks for covering for me with the publisher.”

“Namjoon it’s not just about the sample, I was worried about you. You’ve never been gone that long before.”

He steps back from the entrance making room for you to come in before closing the door behind you. “I know, I’ve just been having some writers block.” He lowers his head in shame.

“It’s not like that hasn’t happened before, in fact I’ve come to expect it, but usually you’re only gone for a few days! I just wish you would have let me know that you were okay.”

“This time it’s different. The ideas are there I’m just afraid to write them. I wanted to call you but...” He pauses, his fingers trailing around his mouth, as if it might soften the effects of his words. “I think you’re the reason I can’t write it.”

Your face falls at the thought of being the hitch in his creativity, spurring a further explanation from him. “No please don’t take it like that, it’s just... this story, it’s not like my others. I feel like I’ll be subjecting you to the darkest part of my mind, I don’t want to put you through that.” There’s an exhaustion behind his eyes that you’ve never seen before, after a such a long absence you expected him to be well rested but it looks as if he didn’t sleep a wink.

“I’m not afraid of that big brain of yours,” you lean up to him rubbing his hair playfully. “I’ll take whatever you have to give me.”

“You’re willing to read it? No matter how dark or immoral it gets?”

“Namjoon we’ve been friends for over 15 years now. It’ll take a lot more than a book to scare me away.” If you’re being honest with yourself you always thought Namjoon would be the one to leave you behind. You don’t have many clients and there are agents with far better connections than yourself, but even after his first bestseller he refused to sign with anyone else. Stating that no one could support him as well as you.

He nods still looking at the floor. “I’m sorry, I should have talked to you about it before running off like that.” A wicked grin suddenly flashes across his face. “I can’t say that I mind seeing how much you missed me though.”

You scoff, at how quickly he can go from such a vulnerable state to one that completely wrecks you. “I said I was worried not that I miss you!” You tease back with a angry tone. “I have a life beyond you...”

“Pfft, no you don’t.”

“Yes I do! For your information I went on a date last week.” That seems to shut him down in an instant.

“Wait, with who?!”

“Seokjin.”

“Kim Seokjin? The cocky asshole from Smeraldo’s Books marketing team? I thought you said you wouldn’t date people you work with.”

“Confidence is not cockiness! And I don’t work with him directly so there’s no conflict of interest.”

Namjoon clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes, making his distaste known to you. These conversations never go over well with him, he always finds something to criticize about any guys you are seeing, planting a seed of doubt in your mind. He manages to find that perfect flaw that you’ll fixate on until you ended the relationship. Even now you find yourself starting to question Jin’s vanity.

“And stop changing the subject, I’m the one who had the right to be upset here not you!” Namjoon smiles at you sheepishly, slumping his shoulders in surender. With a sigh you too throw up the white flag. “Get some sleep okay? It’s getting late, we’ll talk tomorrow. ”

...

The next day you work from home. Diving into the pile of drafts from the comfort of your own bed. This also gives you the chance to keep an eye on the door across the street. Namjoon hasn’t left the house all day. By the time evening rolls around you begin to worry, considering that he had just come back from a two week absence there is no way he has any proper food in the house. You send him a text already knowing the answer.

...Have you eaten?...

...No...

...Jajangmyeon?...

...You know me too well, could you bringing it to my place?...

...Sure, I’ll see you in a few...

When you knock on the door Namjoon calls out instead of answering.

“It’s open.”

You step inside but there’s no sign of him.

“Sorry.” He comes into view with only a towel and water dripping off his frame. “I just realized when you messaged that I hadn't showered.”

“Namjoon, clothes, please!”

“Right...” He gives you a wide dimpled smile while he tousles his damp hair.

Fuck he will be the death of you and your career, you conclude as you sink into his couch. He knows the risks his knows the liabilities but sometime you think he intentionally tries to draw you towards him. From your seat your try to distract yourself by examining his walls looking to spot any new additions to his vast collection.

Namjoons home matches his personality perfectly, from the endearing art figures on his shelves to the brass telescope stationed by the window. Showcasing his affinity for charmingly cute items but also his sophistication and scholarly pursuits.

When he finally joins you, he sits down beside you and digs into his noodles. He anxiously starts to discuss the progress of his work. The worry still seems to hover over him regarding you reading the piece. “It’s not like my usual stuff, most of it will be told from the point of view of the villain. He’ll go unnamed for most of the story to have his final reveal at the end.”

“Oh that’s dark, I like it. You can really have fun with this character, there’s no need for you to hold back or try to make the readers like him.”

Namjoon nods in agreement, “It feels more honest too. The character doesn’t feel the need to hide behind a veil, the passions and desires are right out there in the open for readers to see.”

“You always write the hero, I’m excited to see you portray the villain.” As much hope as you give him there is still doubt on his face. “Namjoon, if I’m the problem, I don’t have to take this one on. I can find you another agent for this book I won’t take it personally, I promise.”

“No!” His response is short but loud, causing you to flinch back in surprise. “Sorry, it’s hard for me, but I still want you to be the first person to read it.”

You find his unwavering loyalty endearing, you’ve always been the first to read his stories from when he started writing as a teenager up until now. The twists and turns of his plots never ceasing to amaze you.

“What have you written so far?”

“I’m actually starting with the end, I’ve found it to be more captivating than the beginning.” He smirks as holds on to the secret twist you have yet to see.

“Who wins?” You ask prodding for clues.

“Not too sure yet, that depends on how the story progresses.”

“You should let the villain win this time.”

He chokes on his food for a second. Letting out a loud cough and taking a long sip of water before answering you. “You think so?” He asks cautiously.

“Absolutely, it’ll make for something different, and if we follow him the whole time I’ll find it depressing to see him loose.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He chuckles at your insight, “Wouldn’t want to upset you now, would I? ”

“Nope.” You slurp up the last of your noodles with the excess of sauce. Making a complete mess of yourself, but you’ve succeeded in bring another laugh to his lips.

“You never change,” Namjoon mutters while wiping your face with his thumb. “God I missed you.” He pauses for a second, letting his hand linger before pulling the digit back to his own mouth and licking it carefully. You find him slowing inching towards you on the couch. “Tell me again why we can’t take this further...” You still while observing his unexpected words and actions.

He continues to press on his lip while eyeing you up as if you might be the next course.

“Don’t tease me Namjoon.” You chide him, trying to convince yourself that he can’t be serious. You place your bowl on the table giving you a reason to divert your eyes for a moment. Maintaining rational thought while looking upon him is an impossibility, taking even a second away from his eyes helps to build your conviction before looking back to him.

But he continues to tear away at the foundation of your determination.

“Why would I tease you? Teasing implies that I won’t give you what you want, I intend to give you everything.” He carefully brushes the hair from your face, dragging the back of his fingers across your cheek before pulling his hand away.

“Namjoon we’ve talked about this.”

“Yes, but we never did come to an agreement on it.”

“You know we shouldn’t do this. Working together as friends already poses it’s challenges. Adding sex won’t make it easier.” You are already far too lenient with him in comparison to your other clients, you dread to think what effect consistent intimacy would have on your professional relationship.

“When was the last time you’ve had someone?”

Your mouth falls open at the question. “Excuse me?” It’s been awhile but he doesn’t need to know that.

“You just said we are friends right? You would talk to your friend about sexual exploits, why not me? It might be good for my work, get those creative juices flowing.” The corner of his mouth pulls up followed by a bite to his bottom lip.

“Are you trying to use your writing as an excuse?”

“You think of everything with regards to work. I’m just trying to speak your language.”

You know he doesn’t wish to just talk about it but act on it.

Namjoon’s hand now takes your chin as he leans in even further, close enough for you to feel his breath upon your skin. “How long has it been?” He asks again. His eyes narrow as they search your expression for any clue you might give.

“Too long.” You whisper a blush creeping into your face giving you away as you look down.

“So you and Seokjin...”

“Nothing happened, I was too self conscious around him.”

Namjoon tilts your head to the side and places his lips near your throat, his other hand now resting on your thigh right at the start of the hem of your skirt. A faint growl of pleasure leaves him. “So you need someone you’re comfortable with.” His fingers begin to draw small circles on your thigh. “Someone who you’ve known for a while, someone you feel a connection with.”

“Someone who I don’t work with,” You counter back.

“Very well. I’m terminating our contract for the next hour. We can renegotiate after I’ve met your needs.” His lips finally touch you neck focusing right below your ear the heat flowing from that one spot makes you gasp. “Consider this my pitch.” He smirks whispering into your ear as his hand moves further up your leg. “Would you like to proceed?”

Fuck him and his way with words. Who are you kidding you knew you would cave to any desire of his the second you saw him in a towel. You can have sex just this once and stop it after that right? This isn’t going to be a regular occurrence just a one time thing you promise yourself. Just something to get the tension out of the way.

You finally nod leaning back on his sofa, giving in to him completely, letting his finger press your underwear to the side and then sink inside.

He acts surprised to find you already wet with arousal, “So receptive already? That’s not how you negotiate.”

“As if you didn’t know.”

“Do you dislike my ability to read you?” He mutters between the soft kisses to your throat.

“No I just wish I could do the same.”

“That can be arranged.” He answers back with a smug grin. You gasp as he pushes a second finger between you folds, curling it inside of you until you unleash a louder response to his touch. “Shall I give you an oral rundown of my work?”

Unable to form coherent words you nod again letting him lift up your skirt completely, he takes his fingers out for a moment so he can fully remove your underwear. Namjoon lowers himself so his head is level with you hips as he looks upon your pink entrance. His tongue starts rolling along the length of your slit. He hums with agreement as you raise your legs placing the back of your knees on his shoulders.

As he reaches the crest he gives a flick of the tongue, you buck from the sensation causing him to place a hand on your lower stomach directly between your hips. When you flinch again he presses down to keep you in place, the tug of his hold exposes your clit to him even more. His fingers return to their home inside you and he attaches his mouth to the area surrounding your bud.

You bite your lip to prevent an excess of noise as his lips tug on your knot. Noticing your sudden silence Namjoon stops and looks up to you. “Don’t hold back on me, no one else can hear you I promise.” He gives a sudden thrust of his fingers, the shock forcing you to cry out. “Good girl, let me listen to you.”

His long fingers continue to reach deeper, the pads of his fingers slowly stroking as his mouth returns to suck on your mound, with another flick of the tongue and fingers you dissolve in his grasp. Even as you reach your high he refuses to let go riding each wave of pleasure he sends through you. Only extracting himself when you call out his name in the form of a plea, unable to take the stimulation any longer. He takes his fingers from you bringing them to his mouth while he watches over you.

Awash with the warmth he has brought you your breathing is slow to return to an even pace. He groans as his hand passes over himself. With his eyes still focused on you, he palms what looks to be a painfully large erection beneath his jeans. Licking his lips he looks as though he might go down for another taste of you from the source, clearly not satisfied with what he took from his hands.

You sit up, fixing your skirt before you push Namjoon back into his seat on the couch. Taking up position in front of him, kneeling on the hardwood floor, your hands poise to lower his zipper.

“What are you...” He sputters as you open his jeans carefully. Your finger tracing the long bulge concealed by his boxers. “No I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“What reciprocate? I know you Namjoon, I know your games. I can hear it now, the next time I remind you of a deadline all I’ll get back is, ‘But remember that time I made you come?’ Besides,” You pry the elastic of his underwear back to reveal the throbbing head. “I think I’ll enjoy doing this just as much.” Who doesn’t take pleasure in someone falling to pieces in their grasp. Namjoon has always had the upper hand in your friendship, now is your chance to take it back.

He helps you by shifting his pants down so you can expose the rest of him. You cup his sac with letting your middle finger trace along the raphe. Your other hand guiding the tip of him to your mouth. The slight saltiness of precum hits you as your tongue as it brushes the head.

Within seconds Namjoon lets out audible groans from your ministrations. You resist the urge to smile at the sounds your touch produces. The hand that brought him to you now rests at his base. You open your mouth wide as you slide down his shaft. Your tongue presses against the soft skin as you glide his cock to the back of your throat.

His whole body tenses while you linger close to the base having taken as much as you can. You can hear a faint whimper as you pull your lips back to the top. With one of his hands clenched the other traces the line of your jaw and flows to your hair, gripping the strands as it falls in place at the back of your head. You curl your tongue around the rim of his tip before proceeding back down.

His hand continues to cradle your head while he falls back against the couch. Several expletives leave his lips as you quicken your pace. Each time you slide down you attempt to take him a little further to the point where your eyes begin to water. You look up to him as he draws his hand to his mouth biting down on the knuckle in an attempt to muffle the groans emitting from him. You allow him the vice that he took from you, enjoying the sight of his clenched jaw and focused expression.

When he meets your eyes he finally unravels, a flurry of heavy breathing escapes him. His hips come to meet you this time, with one final thrust, his hand keeps you in place. With each pulse you swallow to around his tip, his cum hitting the back of your throat. You linger for as long as you can until your lungs scream for air forcing you to pull back.

You wipe the saliva from your lips as you look upon his fallen state. His head lolled back, his breath nothing more than a shudder. It had definitely been worth it to see him like this, but you slowly draw back to reality knowing it can’t happen again. There’s too much at stake. If the other authors you represented found out, it could ruin your career, not to mention what would become of your friendship. Namjoon had one night stands before surely he could be content with just this once.

...

After that night Namjoon spends the next two days locked away writing. He asks you to stall with the publishers for as long as you can. Your excuses to them grow more pathetic by the day.

He calls you on the second evening while you’re on your way home from work. “Namjoon are you almost done with your sample? I can’t hold them off much longer, by the way if anyone asks you were sick and then you had a car accident.”

“But I don’t have a car.”

“No because you totaled it in the wreck, come on play along.”

He chuckles a thank you and then shares his news with you. “I think it’s ready. Is it okay if I drop it off at your place now? I have plans for tonight and I don’t want to be late.” He pauses as if to consider his words, “That is unless you would rather go on a date with me. I would cancel everything for that.”

“Namjoon,” You whine back, “Professional boundaries you promised!”

“You’re right I did. Can I still drop off my work?”

“I’m not back yet. Just use your spare key and leave the draft on my table.”

“Will do.”

When you arrive home not only is there a manuscript but he’s also throw in a bottle of his families homemade soju and a note.

...I figured you might as well have a drink at my expense while reading this. Sorry it took so long, I just had to be sure. -Namjoon...

The sample work he’s left strikes you as unusual, bound in a red journal, and upon opening you find his work in longhand. Written on the inside cover is the explanation.

...Possible marketing design, journal format to fit the theme. I would prefer to somehow mimic the handwriting as well rather than text, as it adds to the tone of the story.

Working title: Diary of a Villain

A character slowly driven mad by desire and longing, trying to hold himself together and not reveal his true self...

Namjoon is right, it’s vastly different than what he’s written in the past. Even though the passages he has given you fall closer to the middle and end of the story, you soon find yourself lost in the passion and intensity of the main character's thoughts. He’s been stalking the love of his life but he makes it sound so reasonable. Conveying that this is his purpose in life, to stay by her. Watching her through the windows, breaking into her home when she’s not there just to take in the smell of her sheets. Wishing to collect and study every part of her.

Your heart even breaks as he describes his time away from her. When his desire would overwhelm him, when he could longer be content with just watching, he would have to leave the city just to keep her safe from him. As you continue you notice the change in the writing style going from a tidy scrawl to a haphazard scribble as if the person writing these words was slowly becoming unhinged.

When you reach a part where the main character invites the focus of his affection over, you notice Namjoon has kindly put a small sticky note in the margin.

...If you haven’t started drink already I would highly suggest it now. I dislike the thought of you reading this part sober...

You glance at the next few lines muttering to yourself, “Is this a sex scene? He never writes about intimacy.” He’s right though the thought reading a sensual act written by your very attractive, untouchable friend requires a drink. After taking a shot of the soju he kindly provided you proceed.

The lead up dialogue seems oddly familiar.

...“Why would I tease you? Teasing implies that I won’t give you what you want, I intend to give you everything.”...

Your eyes trace every line carefully as you read, your mind tries to second guess itself wondering if those were are actually the words he spoke to you. But when you hit another familiar passage you begin to blush, no longer able to deny the truth.

...“You need someone you’re comfortable with. Someone who you’ve known for a while, someone you feel a connection with.”...

You take another shot of the soju as the story continues to unfold in a similar way as the events of two days ago. He goes into a vivid replay of how he satisfied you with his tongue and fingers. Each stroke of pleasure is written out on the page exactly how it happened. You’re not sure if you should be upset or flattered that he’s narrated the scene for the whole world to read. Regardless of your feelings your arousal begins to climb while remember how it felt when he touched you.

You interest grows when you read of the female character returning the favour. How her actions matched yours. You can't help but imprint the main characters feelings onto Namjoon. As if he is describing how it felt when you sucked his cock.

...Fuck she took me so well. How could I have ever let anyone else touch me other than her. I might have used them all as distractions, but now I see that nothing could compare. Her tongue dragged along my shaft, so talented in tracing the veins as she placed me at the back of her mouth. Her throat clenched around my tip. The thought of coming inside her was so overwhelming it brought me to the verge quickly. I had to dig my nails into my palm and bite my knuckles to distract myself with the pain. I gladly fought through it just to enjoy the moment a little longer. When I released inside of her mouth I could feel her throat swallow round my head, taking every drop I gave...

You nibble the tip of your finger and smile at the thought that you might have given Namjoon this much pleasure. But you soon find yourself trying to dissociate him from the main character once he returns to his obsessive tendencies.

...She told me this was it, that we couldn’t act on our urges ever again. She had given me the taste of heaven and was now locking the gate forever. I promised her that I would respect her decision, but there was no way I could abide. If she refused to let me in, I would simply drag her down to hell with me...

You find yourself overwhelmed with anxiety, your heart rate and thoughts racing from the ongoing similarities.

...I left a gift at her house, with the hopes that she would enjoy my hard work, with the dream that she would finally understand. She didn’t realize until it was too late that I had drugged her drink, that I had never left but was spying through the bedroom door. I had left it slightly ajar, wanting nothing more than to watch her expression as everything unraveled...

You breathing stops as you look over to your bedroom, the door resting open ever so slightly.

...It was a strong sedative that I used to dose her. The first recorded side effect is often dizziness...

Your hand clings to the couch in an attempt to stay upright as you head swims.

...Followed by loss of motor control...

Your legs begin to tingle, falling numb beneath you, any hope of fleeing snatched away.

...And finally the drug snares the remaining senses from it’s victims before a complete loss of consciousness. She didn’t last long...

Your hearing becomes muffled, and your eyes widen with terror trying to keep them from succumbing to the darkness that slowly closes in on you. The last sight you witness before falling under is the door opening to reveal Namjoon, wearing the smirk you used to love so much.

...

You fight through the haze of exhaustion to bring your mind to where you are. Lying down on your side in a bed you stare at a wall that you know to be in Namjoon’s home. Warm fingertips brush your shoulder as you slowly wake, followed by the soft press of lips to your skin.

You try to lift a hand to cradle your head and relieve the dull ache that’s surfacing, but you find your arms restrained, pulled behind your back and tied in place. You jerk at the bonds in an attempt you free yourself, but now a large hand holds you in place too.

“Don’t move, you’ll only hurt yourself.” Namjoon’s voice trails from behind you, his soft tone attempts to convey comfort but sends you into a panic as you remember his actions.

“Namjoon?” You ask with a sob.

“Shhhh, I’m right here.”

“W-why?” You stutter as your chest begins to heave, “Why did you do this?”

“I thought that was obvious.” He places the journal you were just reading on the bed next to you. “You refused to see reason so I tried to show you. This is everything I feel for you, everything I’ve done for you, and yet you still push me away. I don’t want to work together, I don’t want to be friends if it means I can’t have you. I’ll take you away from everything so you don’t have to make that choice.” He lowers his lips to your ear his tone becoming hushed as if he is sharing a desperate desire. “I’ll be the villain so you can be mine.”

“Namjoon please, just let me go.” Your fingers attempt to find the knots in the binding, straining for any hope of release.

“But that’s not where the story goes next, I would rather continue where you left off. I have so much more in store for you, for us.” He paces around the bed finally coming into your view. A sly smile crosses his face as he sits down on the mattress in front of you. A finger raises your chin so you meet his eyes. “Shall I read the end to you? I think you’ll like it. I took your advice.”

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cynicalrainbows · 4 years

Text

Eve’s Curse

Second attempt at writing fluff for @six-gifts-exchanges for @saria-malinas!

Not at all meant as anything other than friendship (because in my own head, Cathy and Kitty have a very adorable, very pure best-friendship thing going on, which very possibly could involve friendship bracelets and- in the fullness of time- a very very Vanilla sort of Burn Book) but you can read it as mild Parrward if you want to, I suppose.

TW: Periods.

She’s halfway to the stairs, empty coffee cup in hand, when she catches the sound of muffled sobbing coming from the bathroom.

She hesitates on the top step- pretend not to have heard and give whoever it is a chance to pull themselves together and pretend All Is Well or interrupt and potentially risk getting herself mixed up in something she isn’t able to handle?

She’s the first to admit it- she’s not the best at giving comfort out of the six of them, no one would ever mistake her for the Mum-Friend.

She’s too awkward, too hesitant.

No, that title- rightfully- belongs to Jane, who not only has apparently found a way to bend the laws of physics in order to fit everything that anyone might conceivably need into her smallish handbag (Cathy has seen her pull out tissues AND aspirin AND water AND plasters AND gum AND a hairbrush AND tampons AND tweezers AND anti-hayfever medication out of her bag at a moments notice, and the mystery is further compounded by the fact that none of the other queens ever have caught Jane actually replenishing her bountiful supplies.)

In addition to being Keeper Of All Things, Jane also seems to have an almost spooky sixth-sense for knowing when she is needed, often just….appearing at the bedroom door of whichever queen is struggling, armed with chocolate and tea and sympathy, whether the issue is a persistent migraine (Aragon), a hangover (Anna) or social-media induced blues (Anne, who isn’t allowed to read their youtube comments anymore).

Jane though is out. Aragon too- who, in Jane’s absence, can usually be relied on to step in with advice and cups of green tea- is not around.

Come to think of it, Anna did say something about going to the gym over breakfast….

That left Anne- who Cathy knows generally prefers to hide her tears behind thumpingly-loud music and/or a shower running on full rather than behind a simple door….and Kitty.

Oh god.

Reluctantly, Cathy finds herself retracing her steps until she’s right in front of the door.

Of course she can’t go back downstairs if it’s Kitty. Not that she’s even fully sure she believes in hell anymore (something she has neglected to mention to Catalina and fully plans to emphatically deny if her godmother ever catches wind of it) but she’s absolutely certain that wilfully leaving Kitty alone and in distress is the sort of thing that would be sure to forever condemn you to the darkest, deepest, scariest level of it.

(Also, the other queens would kill her if they found out: Jane might be first but Anna, she knows, wouldn't be far behind.)

She raises her hand to knock and then pulls it back.

Just do it.

She can’t.

And it’s not that she doesn’t want to help Kitty, it’s not that she doesn’t care- she’s just scared to death.

She knows, after all, how much the youngest queen has been through- out of all of them, only she and Anna were actually there to hear, first-hand, the gossip that set half of London into a flurry of excitement as the other half bit their lips to keep from commenting: the King’s pretty new wife, the ex maid-in-waiting.

Just like that Bullen girl, some said- some doubtfully, others gleefully.

Young though, isn’t she? It was said with a smirk at first, with barely concealed concern later.

She looks like a child beside him-

They say he can’t keep his hands off her-

They say she’s looking ever so pale-

They say the King is angry-

They say she’s been meeting secretly with one of the King's men-

They say she’ll be sent to a nunnery-

They say she was pre-contracted-

And then, suddenly: She’s dead. Beheaded.

And that time, it was not gossip or open to speculation but sad, bleak, unalterable fact.

And still the rumours kept spreading:

They say she cried as she was being led to the scaffold- and They say she begged the King to spare her family- and, more and more often now, so young, so very young.

It makes Cathy afraid to even talk to the girl- she only has to look at her to feel the crushing weight of years of guilt, and even as she reminds herself that she really had no more choice in the marriage than Kitty did herself, it doesn’t help much. She after all survived. That makes a difference.

It’s why she shies away not just from Kitty but from all of them- Anna, she’s sure, must secretly blame her for Kitty’s fate, and if she does, wouldn’t Anne feel the same? Jane, she’s sure, must also find herself looking askance at the woman who came directly after to marry the man who had her now-surrogate-daughter was killed. Even Catalina, who she feels closest to, probably finds it a bit odd that her own goddaughter went on to marry her husband.

The thoughts keep her a little isolated, a little lonely. It’s not awful or anything, just a bit solitary from time to time.

It’s ok though. Last to marry a notorious wife-killer, she’s used to people being uncomfortable around her.

True, Kitty doesn’t seem to hold anything against her.

She’s a little hesitant, a little shy- it took her days to talk around any of them in anything louder than a whisper, over a week before she was able to speak without being spoken to- but she still offers shy smiles across the stage when Cathy catches her eye mid-rehearsal.

She remembers that she likes her coffee with cinnamon instead of sugar, and when it’s Cathy’s turn to wash up, sometimes she’ll look up and find she has a pink-haired shadow, drying the cups and plates and putting them away.

If anything, this makes it worse, the fact that she is confronted every day with this sweet, kind girl and forced to remember the awful things that were done to her.

It’s why she’s stuck outside the bathroom door, not even able to knock- what if she tries to help Kitty and she gets it wrong? What if she somehow makes things worse?

She isn’t sure she’d be able to live with herself.

Then Kitty gives a particularly sad sounding whimper and she realises that she definitely won’t be able to live with herself if she doesn’t do something.

‘Kitty?’

The whimpering chokes off and is replaced by silence.

‘Kitty, are you alright?’

Stupid question Cathy. As if crying in the bathroom has ever been considered a sign of ‘being alright’.

‘I’m- fine.’

Her voice is wavery. Cathy is at a bit of a loss.

‘Can I come in?’

‘No!’ Kitty’s voice is panicked and then hesitant. ‘I mean- yes of course, just…. I mean, not right now...please?’

‘Um….ok’ She feels out of her depth already- she doesn’t know whether to insist or to leave Kitty be like she’s requested.

She tries another tack.

‘Can I get you anything? You don’t have to let me in but if you need anything I could….bring it to you.’ Even her own words sound insubstantial as she trails off- what exactly could Kitty need that she could bring? A book about surviving one's own beheading?

‘N- no. It’s ok. You don’t have to. I didn’t want to bother anyone else-’

‘Are you sure?’ She really really wishes they could be having this conversation face to face and feels a sudden pang of sympathy for Catalina for all the times that she’s surrendered to her own demons and made the woman carry out a mostly-one-sided conversation with a locked door. ‘Honestly, Kitty I just want to help. It’s not a bother at all- I’ll get you anything you need-’

She’s surprised when it actually elicits a response- there’s a scuffle, the door opens a tiny bit and a tear-stained Kitty appears in the crack.

‘Do you-’ She twists her fingers anxiously. ‘Do you…..know how to get blood out of stuff?’

There’s a second where she’s confused by the question, before her mind clears and she realises that by stuff, Kitty probably means clothes.

‘....yes’ She’s trying not to panic- is she hurt? Is something very wrong? Why oh why did Jane and Aragon both have to go out at the same time?- and then she sees Kitty wince and press her hands to her abdomen and her shoulders sink in relief.

‘Oh.’

Kitty doesn’t look anywhere near as relieved- a tear slides down her cheek and Cathy feels her heart squeeze. The poor thing looks so young-

‘Hey-’ She steps forward and gently opens the door wider so that she can wrap an arm around the girls shoulders. She’s practically holding her breath as she does- what if Kitty pushes her away, what if she slams the door on her- but she lets her. Cathy could swear she actually leans into her touch a tiny bit.

‘It’s ok, I know how much they can hurt but it’ll be over soon- I’ll get you a hot water bottle and some painkillers, that’ll help-’

She’s mentally rejoicing over the fact that the gathering of these items is a physical action she can actually do when Kitty’s voice breaks.

‘- I don’t know what I did wrong-’

‘Sorry?’

‘I must have done something and I just-’

‘You haven’t done anything wrong.’ God knows Kitty wouldn’t be the only one to misjudge monthly timings in a way that resulted in unexpected laundry. ‘Sometimes it just takes you by surprise and-’

‘But I was so careful!’ It’s almost a wail and it takes Cathy aback. ‘I didn’t do anything this time round, I was so, so careful… I don’t want it all to happen again Cathy!’

‘Hold on-’ Clearly she has missed a couple of jumps in logic here- she steers Kitty back inside the bathroom, sits her down on the edge of the bathtub and kneels down in front of her while Kitty sniffles. ‘What do you mean by not doing anything? It’s just your period, you can’t control it-’

‘I must have done something to make it come-’ Kitty looks at her with red-rimmed eyes. ‘I know that it was my fault before, I know I shouldn’t have let him….touch me but he was so angry, Cathy! He said he’d be ill if i didn’t, he said I led him on-’ she starts to cry, quietly, hunching forward. ‘And then it came- when my step grandmother saw the blood...she said it showed I was a woman, that I must have been doing things I shouldn’t- I wasn’t a girl anymore- Cathy, I haven’t done anything this time, I swear it, I just….don’t know how it happened-’

Cathy’s mind is reeling and for a moment, all she can do is reach out mutely and pull the weeping girl into her arms. She isn’t quite sure what to say, how to begin- anger and indignation and sadness all battle in her mind- and she’s sure there’s a right thing to say, if only she can think of it.

‘Oh Kitty-’

‘I know- oh Cathy, please don’t tell the others, I don’t want them to know I-’ Her face contorts with a sob. ‘Please don’t tell Jane-’

There’s so much Cathy wants to say- wise, sensible, non-judgemental things, the sort of things that Jane or Catalina would say, but instead what comes out is: ‘Your grandmother told you it was your fault? What an absolute bitch!’

‘Step grandmother-’ Kitty flinches a bit in her arms at her vehemence and Cathy has to reign herself in, gently rubbing small circles over Kitty’s shoulders until she relaxes again.

‘Sorry, just…’ She’s fumbling for the words that will make everything better, when really what she wants to do is scoop this poor girl up into her arms and keep her safe from all of the terrible lies people are clearly so intent on telling her. ‘Kitty, you know you didn’t do anything wrong, right? You didn’t make anything happen?’

Stupid, stupid. Of course, she knows, if Kitty knew that, they wouldn’t be having this conversation.

‘What do you mean? Of course I did. I mean, I know he shouldn’t have either but something had to have triggered it so-’

‘No!’ Cathy finds she’s actually raising her voice a bit. ‘You didn’t do anything, you-’ She forces her voice soft and instinctively takes Kitty’s hands in her own. ‘Kitty, getting your period is nothing to do with what you’ve done or said or- or anything.’

‘But-’

‘Listen to me. It’s nothing to do with anything. Back then- you would have gotten it anyway. And now- honestly, I’m surprised it didn’t come sooner but sometimes stress can-’ She’s getting off topic. ‘Just….it’s nothing to do with doing anything wrong. It’s just biology.’

‘It’s Eve’s curse though, it’s a punishment-?’ She says it as if it’s fact but there’s the hint of a question in it, a tiny spark of raw, naked hope in Kitty’s woebegone face that’s breaking Cathy’s heart.

‘No, Kitty. It’s just how the woman’s body works- trust me, I’ve researched all of it. People today- they know about these things, they know SO much more than we did back then, they know things we didn’t even think to question…’ Whoops. Off topic again.

Hold back the rant Cathy, the poor girl can hear your thoughts on all this at another point. Ideally one where she isn’t in tears and bleeding.

Kitty’s looking at her, half hopeful, half unsure and she realises she’s going to need to explain things a bit better.

‘Ok. What did your step grandmother tell you when you were younger?’

‘That it meant I was becoming a woman- I was opening myself up to Eve’s sin.’

Cathy grits her teeth. ‘What else?’

‘That I could have babies now. And that I’d brought it on myself so I wasn't to go whining about the place looking for sympathy because the pain was punishment.’

She’s never in her life wanted to throttle an old woman more.

‘So- she was sort of right…. Not about the pain bit. Look, you know when women get pregnant, the baby grows in the womb?’

Kitty nods.

Every month, the womb readies itself for a baby. When there isn’t a baby, it sort of….clears itself and begins again. That’s why it hurts- your womb, your uterus is sort of ripping everything out. That’s why you bleed. Not because it’s a punishment.’

‘But….if I did something to trigger it-’

‘Kitty.’ Cathy looks at her unblinkingly, trying to put as much gravity behind her words as she can, praying they’ll sink in. ‘Listen. There is no one single thing you could have done or not done that would have made the slightest bit of difference, ok? Not a thing. It’s the same for all of us- you can ask any of us, it’s always the same. Nothing to do with you. You haven’t done anything wrong now and you didn’t do anything wrong then, ok?’

She watches until Kitty gives a tremulous nod of assent.

‘Good.’

There’s a moment of silence, and then Kitty wearily brushes at her still-teary eyes and sniffles. ‘I feel really stupid. You must think I’m an idiot-’

‘No! It’s not your fault!’ Cathy can’t bear the idea that Kitty is blaming herself again- the poor girl sounds so sad and broken down. ‘How were you meant to know different? I wasn’t telling you to make you feel silly, you know that right? Just...I didn’t want you to feel guilty for something that wasn’t your fault. You don’t deserve that.’

Please, please know I didn’t mean it badly-

Kitty sighs and nods resignedly. She looks suddenly very tired. ‘- thanks.’

‘You’re welcome. Now-’ It occurs to her that while the emotional side of things might be mostly-sorted for now, there’s still some things to take care of. ‘Here’s what we’ll do-’

It’s a shock to hear herself taking charge in such a way- she sounds like Jane, talking one or another of them through a crisis, all soothing and in control. Not her own awkward self at all. ‘I’m going to run you a hot bath- it’ll help with the cramps- and I’ll sort out your clothes and get you some pads-’

‘I don’t have any-’

‘Oh there’s always some in the bathroom cabinet.’ She rummages into its innermost recesses til she finds what she’s looking for. ‘We’ll get you some of your own too, of course. But you can always borrow from any of us in future, if you run out, ok?’

‘....ok.’

She stands Kitty up and starts turning on the taps. ‘Leave your clothes outside the bathroom door, and I’ll bring you some new stuff-’

‘You don’t have to wash my clothes-’

Kitty looks absolutely mortified and Cathy wonders why for a second- of course she’s not going to judge her- before remembering how she herself had fiercely resisted Catalina taking care of her when she’d come down with flu, how Anne had limped miserably on a sprained ankle for a whole rehearsal before admitting it to anyone. It’s not just Kitty- they’re all getting used to being vulnerable with one another.

‘I absolutely don’t mind-’ Then she stops herself. The last thing Kitty needs is another person ignoring what she wants. ‘-but if you’d rather, I could wait and show you how to do it yourself?’

Kitty nods acquiescence, smiling shyly, and Cathy smiles back. She feels a flicker of pride- she might not have reacted exactly as Jane would have (she’s sure Jane’s method wouldn’t have involved calling anyone a bitch)...but she’s managed to make Kitty smile.

That’s enough for now.

‘Then that’s what we’ll do.’

Kitty’s flushed from the heat of the bath when she joins Cathy downstairs, clutching a small bundle, and her eyes are still a bit swollen but she looks more like herself.

She takes the painkillers that Cathy’s laid out for her gratefully, and listens attentively as Cathy explains the science behind cold rather than hot water and how long to let things soak before they can go into the machine.

When she’s finished putting the stained clothes to soak, they both stand awkwardly for a second. Cathy wonders if it’s her cue to leave- should she leave Kitty alone now? Has she had enough of her? Will they both disappear to separate rooms and go back to smiling rather than talking?

The thought makes her feel oddly lonely.

Kitty breaks the silence first.

‘So...I’ve probably taken up enough of your day now-’ She keeps her eyes on her bare feet and so Cathy finds herself looking at the floor too- the pink polish that Cathy remembers Anne applying the week before on the white living room rug has chipped a bit and it’s suddenly much, much more important than looking at Kitty’s face.

‘No-’

‘You’ve probably got things you wanted to do-’

‘Well-’ She’s about to agree and back off like she usually does, letting Kitty be free of her like she probably hopes she will…. But then, she decides to be brave. There’s a chance, after all, that Kitty is only saying that to give Cathy herself an out- She can almost hear Catalina’s voice in her head: You have to give people a chance, mija.

‘I was going to watch tv for a bit…’

Kitty bites her lip. ‘Oh- well, have fun-’

She can’t believe Kitty’s actually making her say it- she wants to complain that it isn’t fair. You can’t have two socially awkward people in one conversation- nothing gets done!

Still- it occurs to her that she’s actually been dealing rather well with things up until now, evidence being that Kitty’s no longer crying and doesn’t seem to be in pain anymore (although she supposes that’s more to the credit of the painkillers than to her).

Still- the point is, she’s done ok. Maybe she can carry on doing ok?

She takes a quick breath, already steeling herself for Kitty to turn her down.

What if she doesn’t actually want to, what if she feels like she has to say yes out of pity?

‘Do you want to watch with me?’

Kitty hesitates.

‘It’s ok if you don’t want to-’

For a second, she can almost hear Kitty doing the same internal pep talk Cathy has just given herself- and then she smiles widely.

‘I’d like to, if you’re sure you don’t mind?’

‘Of course not!’

They’re settling themselves onto the living room sofa (for once, being able to do so without having to negotiate for space with at least two other people as is usually the case) when Kitty’s hand finds Cathy’s and squeezes it.

‘Thank you. For being so nice.’

It’s not exactly poetry, but Cathy can’t stop herself from smiling.

‘Thank you….for letting me help.’

Kitty smiles awkwardly and Cathy grabs the remote from the floor. ‘So. What do you feel like watching?’

They flick through a few channels until Kitty squeaks in excitement at a show which apparently involves cross women choosing wedding dresses.

(Cathy privately thinks this sounds like a stupid idea of a program but decides she’ll go along with it. For Kitty’s sake.)

(An hour later, she realises how hubristically, foolishly wrong she was ever to doubt the genius of such a show and makes a mental note to ask why no one told her that it existed before.)

Beside her, Kitty laughs at her interest and then winces again.

‘You like it! You- ow Ow!’

‘Oh you poor thing- is it bad?’

Kitty whimpers, clutching at the hem of Cathy’s flannel shirt in one hand. ‘I thought it had stopped- the cramps, I mean-’

Cathy shakes her head ruefully. ‘They do trick you like that… it’s a bit too soon for you to take anything else but I have an idea-’

‘Like what?’

She smiles. ‘Wait and see.’

She’s not sure if it’s the hot water bottle or the mug of hot chocolate, topped with a small mountain of whipped cream and studded with chocolate drops, that makes the difference, but after a couple of minutes, Kitty relaxes again and unfolds from the curled up position she’d assumed.

Somehow, her head has ended up in Cathy’s lap, but she doesn’t move.

And Cathy, playing with the bright pink tips of her ponytail, finds she doesn’t mind either (she wonders if one can get the same endorphins from stroking Kitty’s hair as one does from stroking an actual cat.)

‘Better?’

‘Mm-hmm.’

‘Good.’

‘Cathy?’

‘Yes?’

Kitty twists around and sits up a bit.

‘You know….if you ever need anything…?’

‘Yes?’

‘.....you know, you can come to me….right? I’d help, if I could.’

She actually thinks Kitty means it.

‘I know.’

She resumes her petting of Kitty’s hair, who lays her head back down and sighs contentedly.

‘Cathy?’

‘Hmm?’

‘This is really nice.’

‘.....it is.’ It is. It really, really is.

‘Can we...maybe do this again some time? If- if you wanted to?’

Her heart leaps but she keeps it under wraps.

‘Sure Kitty.’

(Still, she can’t stop herself smiling.)

#six #six the musical #six the musical fanfiction #six fanfiction #sixfic

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flattired · 4 years

Text

( JACOB ELORDI, CIS MAN, HE / HIM — oh gosh, sorry THOMAS “TOMMY” BARNETT ! i didn't see you there ! y'know, i can't believe you're already TWENTY FIVE years old; seems like just yesterday you were tripping over yourself, or was that yesterday ? just kidding, just kidding ! anyway, i hear that you've been here since 1978, or so you think; congratulations ! at least that shining OBLIGING personality of yours hasn't changed a bit, especially that LOYAL + AMICABLE, but FOOLISH + RESTLESS way about you. look, i gotta get back to the group, but i'll see you around !

hello, hello! my name is rion, though at this point you might know be better as admin jay on the main! i... i just need you guys to know how absolutely excited i am that you’re all here. lilah will tell you that basically every time we got an app she had to listen to me say holy shit again. we also sent each other the paul rudd ‘ hey, look at us ’ video a lot. it just really means the world to us that you guys took the time to join this and we hope you enjoy what we have planned. so yeah! mush out of the way, let me introduce you to the sweet but easily lead astray, tommy barnett.

full name : thomas barnett

age upon check in : twenty five

gender & pronouns : cis man & he / him

trait : obliging

personality : loyal, amicable, foolish, restless

aesthetic : survival came thanks to quick hands, the ability to stay upright despite the strikes, and an uncanny ability to find friends in high places ( just like you were taught ) — let them pull you up, believe that’s what they’re doing, and repay that kindness with service. a well worn deck of cards dictates the shape of your back pocket, the faces of queens and jacks rubbed soft to the touch by your left thumb. brother was a soldier, you were conscripted to a different brotherhood, orange prescription bottles standing at attention, waiting to be carried off by you. marked body, both for lust and anger. low expectations allow one to slip through life unnoticed ; that’s an asset, not a concern. just keep your mouth shut, kid, your comforts come at a certain price.

WHO ARE YOU ?

tw. parental neglect, toxic relationships, verbal abuse, drugs / drug dealing

thomas barnett was the younger of two sons born to eliza and charles barnett, a dysfunctional couple living just above the poverty line. tommy grew up learning how to avoid their often explosive arguments, which often spilled onto those around them ( skills include: knowing which way you could walk pass the kitchen without being noticed, which window opened without squeaking, which headphones were worth saving up for because they actually blocked sound like they claimed ). thankfully, tommy was not alone in this, he had james: an older brother who faithfully looked after him in ways their parents never did. without james, it’s unclear where tommy would be now.

he was never seen as the smartest child. liked by teachers when he was young for being kind at heart, but it took him more time than others to grasp concepts they were teaching. he struggled to pay attention, and as he grew older kind didn’t seem to be enough anymore when compared against his struggles to focus or retain. he skidded by in school, passing by the skin of his teeth, his parents far too preoccupied with the bills they couldn’t pay and their anger with each other to notice how their younger son was struggling. tommy didn’t care enough to seek out help on his own, frustrated with the way academic pursuits made him feel, and while james was doing his best, there was only so much he could do.

tommy was fifteen when james was conscripted, and suddenly he was on his own. that buffer between him and his parents was in one of the carolinas, attending basic, and tommy was forced to bare the brunt of their anger that spilled over. they used him as a tool to wound each other, no wonder he’s failing, he’s your son, but tommy was the one who ended up wearing most of the injuries. yet, it would not be the last time would become a weapon for someone else.

he would find new excuses to spend time away from the small house that had no place to hide, mostly spending time at various friends’ houses, but when a teenage boy is seeking to find things to do it is often that he’ll find himself with new and exciting bad habits. he started smoking, getting into fights when there was nothing else to do, and eventually helping a boy named davey deal drugs.

david, davey to tommy — though he accepted the nickname from no one else, was the other constant in tommy’s life besides james. they met in the third grade and davey was seemingly everything tommy wasn’t. people thought he was clever, he didn’t worry about school, and as far as tommy could tell, davey was absolutely loaded. despite the differences, they were fast friends, and tommy became extremely loyal to the other boy over the years. that’s why, when davey got involved in some things that were less than legal, tommy found himself involved as well.

for all the cleverness davey was touted to have, the scheme was rather simplistic. maybe that was the genius of it though. davey’s father was a doctor, a psychiatrist specifically, and apparently it was easy enough to pull rx pads from the desk within their home. then davey would fill them out in the way he wanted to, forge his father’s signature, and take the scripts to various out of town pharmacies to get them filled. then he, with the help of tommy, could sell them at a premium.

tommy was never certain why davey did it, but for tommy it was about achieving a bit of freedom, independence. the deal was never something that fits who he was at heart, especially with some of the more questionable things davey did, but he tried not to think about that. his bartending job was something that left him living paycheck to paycheck, but this ... well, it let him move out of his parent’s place, and it’s the first time he’s just had cash on hand without having to think about it. he wouldn’t like to admit it, but there’s also something about the excitement, the way it scratches that restless itch of his, that ( in addition to his loyalty to davey ) kept him in the game.

WHERE & WHEN DID YOU CHECK IN ?

when tommy opened the door to his room the next morning to find the raven house, he knew instantly something had changed. it wasn’t hard to figure out considering he had checked into a motel 6 off of i - 95 the night before. sure, it had been a late night and he hadn’t gotten much sleep, but when you’re expecting to step out onto a concrete walkway ( red metal railing in front of you, a half empty parking lot that hosts an above ground pool that is closed for the season ) and are instead greeted by a dark hallway and someone wearing what must be a halloween costume, it doesn’t take a genius to tell that something has changed. which is good, considering no one has ever accused thomas barnett of being a genius. there were plenty of other things people called him, and he tried to not let those things bother him.

but it was 1978, and no one dressed like that anymore. at least ... he didn’t think anyone did.

this wasn’t even supposed to be a trip. just a night drive; windows down in his car and recorded cassettes with his favorite songs playing at top volume. it wasn’t his fault he’d lost track of time and ended up further from home than he’d planned. now he was ... here, wherever here was. the raven house didn’t look like anything he’d ever seen before. the luxury is almost off putting to he who is far more comfortable in dive bars and parties in unfinished basements. it reminded him of davey’s house, almost, a place that ( despite the years that they had been friends ) tommy never felt like he belonged inside of.

except, this was even nicer than that.

WHAT WENT WRONG ?

tw. drugs / drug dealing

a flat tire.

which would have been fine. he knew how to change a flat tire. so technically, what had gone wrong was that he also got a flat tire three months before, and he’d never replaced the spare.

tommy managed to pull the car over, and upon discovering this and checking the time on the car radio, he decided there was nothing he could do tonight. a neon vacancy sign was visible from where he was standing, and he was sure they had a payphone he could use in the morning, call a friend or call a tow truck. it would be fine to leave the car here until then, right? of course it would be.

as it turned out, it wouldn’t really matter.

there was a bag in the trunk, something inspired both by his occupation ( occupation? side gig, to supplement bartending, to help out his friend... it was just pills ) and advice from his older brother. james had seen some shit — or, that’s how tommy would explain it. james had never given him any of the specifics, so he had none to pass on. inside the bag were the essentials, certainly everything he’d need for a one night stay at a motel. could you even call it one night if it was already past midnight?

WHY WERE YOU BROUGHT HERE ?

it might be easy to pin tommy as the extraverted type, but the truth is under a somewhat loud exterior, there’s a kind heart: someone who’s loyal and easy going and could certainly be considered obliging. that’s the trait that brought him to the raven house, and if you think about it for even just a moment, it’s not hard to see why. an individual who’s never a leader, always the support, and doesn’t mind it. a good listener, someone who will do anything for those he cares for, or who’s happy just to play the music a little louder and sing along with you if that’s what you need. the fights he used to get into were just something to do, to assuage the restles spirit that needs to stay occupied, of something for a friend wronged ( though this definition has become somewhat muddled ), but truthfully he’s good natured at his core. he knows what it is like to receive help when you need it, and he’ll return that favor to the world any day.

WHICH ITEM IN YOUR POSSESSION IS THE MOST IMPORTANT ?

it’s just a deck of cards. it’s just a deck of cards except it was a birthday present from james. it’s just a deck of cards but they’ve been worn soft to the touch by the repeated pressure of being rubbed between his thumb and fingers. he used to do card tricks with them, but now he’s worried they’ll tear. a new deck was picked up in the lobby convenience store, but the old deck is important, even if it is no longer useful.

... WAS THERE ANYTHING ELSE ?

can be goaded into almost anything with the phrase ‘ i dare you. ’

is the guy who suggests that everyone play the black betty game at parties, and feels clever when he explains it.

will kick your ass at a game of quarters

was an obnoxious car signer. his ability is average, the issue lies in his inability to truly focus on driving at the same time.

now an obnoxious hotel shower singer. my apologies to whoever has the room next to him.

to compound that, he tends to keep strange hours. time isn’t real here, but his body is still on the schedule of his bartending job and mostly nocturnal, if such a thing is possible here.

has argued with the empty other side of the bar over how a drink is made.

hates the feeling of being cooped up here, more than he dislikes the issue of time. he used to drive a lot and has replaced that by wandering the floors of the hotel.

#rhintro

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racefortheironthrone · 5 years

Text

Thoughts on Powers of X #4

Into the home stretch:

Good Times At Bar Sinister:

In retrospect, this may be the weakest issue of HoX/PoX and the closest that the miniseries come to a filler issue. Partly that’s to do with its role in the overall story: this is a denoument issue after the fireworks of the last two issues, and it’s also there to make sure that House of #5′s big reveal/undoing of the climax wasn’t literally the next week’s issue. On the other hand, it’s also probably the funniest issue in the miniseries, so I’d still call it a pretty good comic.

In this first segment, Magneto and Charles track down Mister Sinister on his ominous red crystal island, which continues the motif of ominous towers. When this is happening isn’t clear. We’re still in X^0, but Charles’ flying chair makes its first (only?) appearance suggests that it’s been a while. I really hope Powers of X #6 gives us a better Life 10 timeline, because some of these ordering questions are confusing.

The Guard Sinister sets the tone right off the bat - as we might expect from someone whose morality was shaped by Victorian England, Sinister is perfectly comfortable with being the “yes we have much” and telling the have nots to go away; but at the same time, being very into Aesthetics (note the first of many punctation for emphasis) and style, so that we’re not so much dealing with a guard as a club bouncer grading their outfits.

The clash with Xavier’s grey businessman’s suit and politesse and the vibe at Bar Sinister is immediately apparent, although Magneto’s similarly aggressive Aesthetic is clearly close enough to get them into the club even if Magneto wasn’t up for hurling Sinisters into rocks for being rude to his boyfriend who he kind of crippled although not in the 616 Charles.

Inside the club, the vibe is a weird blend of Edwardian-by-way-of-Lewis-Carroll and the fantasy medievalism of Melniboné. As we are introduced to Sinister the Capeless, I have to say that I find the version of Mister Sinister we get here really interesting, because what’s happening is a shift from glam to camp that’s been there from Kieron Gillen’s run and which has cropped up in Hickman’s earlier work. None of the Aesthetics have changed at all, it’s just that we’ve subtracted the self-seriousness that was sometimes there with the OG Sinister and added a sense of knowing humor to the whole affair. Doesn’t make it any less terrifying when Sinister the Capeless turns on a dime from “I. Love. That. Cape” to Red Queen murderousness - clearly we’re dealing with someone who is both highly powerful, highly intelligent, but also totally nonsensical.

Incidentally, as lines that would work great as t-shirt slogans go, “I can’t be shamed into changing who I am” has got to be up there. Also, very thematically appropriate for HoX/PoX as a whole.

At long last, Xavier and Magneto finally get to the reason why they’ve come to the Bar Sinister: they want Mister Sinister to build “a comprehensive database of mutant DNA” that is “safe. secure.redundant.” More than anything else, this feels like the (necessary?) evil of the founding of Krakoa. Other villainous mutants can be dealt with on the basis of ideology or self-interest or just dealt with, as we saw in House of X #6, but Mister Sinister is really the only one who has made himself indispensable to the broader mission.

However, this is all being done with the foreknowledge that Mister Sinister betrayed the mutant cause in Moira’s most recent life, so I don’t think this is being done out of typical Xavierian hubris.

The reaction is rather surprising: Capeless Sinister refuses out of aesthetic objections to the inclusion of “that aberrant gene” in his collection, which is not consistent with his previous characterization (although given the “they’re all crazy clones” thing, there’s an explanation right there), but is in keeping with Victorian eugenics. (I like Magneto’s very carefully worded lie about the future.)

And then finally we get the Mister Sinister we all know and love, complete with ribbon cape and everything, but him showing up blowing off another Sinister’s head with a handgun is weirdly jarring, like a sudden intrusion from some violent cartoon universe. On the other hand, “my mutant power is overthrowing tyrants and being absolutely fabulous” feels way more like the Sinister we know, and suggests that the hatchet is not buried with Apocalypse)

I like that Magneto is kind of into all of this, because for all that he can be Serious Business sometimes, he’s also someone who’s deeply into his own Aesthetic of overthrowing governments while being fashion-forward.

So here’s the thing about Xavier mind-controlling Sinister into forgetting why he’s doing all of this: I don’t think this is the whole of the plan to deal with Sinister’s sudden but inevitable betrayal. I think part of the point is to maintain quality control over the database, given the whole business with the deliberately-engineered quality control failures in LIfe 9. But I feel like Moira would insist on more redundancy than just relying on one psychic whammy sticking.

Red Diamond Blind Items Infographic:

Speaking of comedy...this definitely is the funniest infographic we’ve gotten throughout the series. A bunch of these went way over my head, lots of them ended up as dropped plot threads which we’ll have to wait for Dawn of X to see if they get followed up on, but they were all entertaining.

Sinister Secret #1: this one is kind of vague, and I’m 99% certain it’s just a gossip columnist being catty about shoes. Incidentally, Louis XIV loved red heels so much that he decreed no one other than him could wear them.

Sinister Secret #2: in addition to being a clue about the Resurrection Machine bringing back all kinds of dead mutants, I like how this one continues one of the best elements of Grant Morrison’s run - the idea that mutants start developing a distinct culture - but now with a twist that it’s going to be happening even more that Krakoa is giving that culture a safe space to flourish.

Sinister Secret #3: Especially what with all the hints about Inferno throughout HoX/PoX, this is definitely about Madelyn Pryor. Dunno what she left behind, but it could well be some sort of resurrection failsafe.

Sinister Secret #4: no idea what this refers to.

Revealed! Of all the X-genes out there for Sinister to use, why John Proudstar? It doesn’t fit with the powers he’s displayed in previous runs, and the only thing I could think of is that Proudstar is the first of the All-New X-Men to die (making it easier to get samples).

Sinister Secret #5: especially in the wake of House of X #6, this suggests that Scott and Jean are in a poly relationship/open marriage of some sort with Logan and/or Emma, and that the new mutant culture is developing its own values on sexuality and family structure, what with the First Law.

Sinister Secret #6: the HoXPoxToX on this issue gives the relevant citation, but I didn’t read the book so I don’t know which of the samples Ernst stole were supposedly destroyed.

Sinister Secret #7: this is a pretty clear reference to the whole messy continuity business about there being a third Summers brother, but also a nice hint that Sinister is completely full of shit and so these blind items have to be taken with a whole salt lick. (Incidentally, we’ve seen Vulkan showing up in promotional materials for Dawn of X, so that’s probably the Summers in question, which means we can finally stop talking about dumb theories about it being random male X-Men).

Sinister Secret #8: again with the pretender talk, but the real clue here is that Apocalypse’s major motivation is getting his original Horsemen back, which is significant for the next section.

Sinister Secret #9: especially with the reveal that Synch has been resurrected, this is pretty clearly referring to him and Jubilee, who are now at very different places in their lives post-resurrection.

Revealed! As I’ve talked about before, Inferno is a running theme in HoX/PoX, and to be honest, if the new status quo of X-Men is going to involve any nostalgia riffs, it’s a good choice because it hasn’t been over-done as much as Days of Future Past, and ties in well with issues of clones, demons, and Sinister.

Sinister Secret #10: as I suggested above, the fact that Xavier saw all kinds of Sinisters running around suggests that he wasn’t relying on that tactic alone to safeguard his mutant future.

Linguistic Anthropology with Doug Ramsey:

So let’s talk about pith helmets - on the one hand, this is a callback to Cassandra Nova, but it’s an inversion: where Nova donned the helmet to show a Trask the instrument of mutant genocide, Xavier is wearing it to show a mutant a crucial part of the plan to reverse the Genoshan genocide. On the other, it’s a deliberately colonialist fashion statement: namely, that as with earlier attempts at establishing a mutant nation - San Marco, Genosha, Utopia, etc. - the mutant homeland is not unoccupied land and mutants are thus not entirely innocent of this particular sin of nation-states, whatever Magneto might say. Not the first and last time that nationalist projects have made this mistake.

Charles talks a good game about moving from adversary to ally with the land, but as we’ll see in just a bit he doesn’t understand Krakoa as much as he thinks he does, which undercuts his good intentions.

Doug introduces the techno-organic virus to Krakoa,which is significant both for the whole issue of biological vs. mechanical transhumanism and singularity, the potential threat from the Phalanx in X^3, but also is a sign that introducing new species to a habitat (something that’s happened quite often in the history of settler colonialism) is an easy overlooked problem.

I love the idea that the difference between telepathy and hyperlingualism is the difference between pidgin and anthropological thick description. Xavier might be able to hear anyone’s thoughts, but that doesn’t necessarily means that he understands said thoughts.

By contrast, Doug’s greater understanding means that he learns Krakoa’s origin myth, and is thematically appropriate for this series it’s a story of unity and division. The linkage between demonic incursions and Arakko/No-Place suggests Inferno, even as the Twilight Sword points to Surtur and Walt Simonson’s run on Thor. The key thing here, however, is that Apocalypse is portrayed as a tragic hero, sacrificing his original horsemen to seal away the demonic invasion and dividing the land - as Apocalypse wants to bring the OG Horsemen back more than anything, this would suggest that seal will be rebroken, causing a lot of chaos, but ultimately leading to the reunion of a sundered land.

As a reward for his insight, Doug is one of the few people who learn the whole plan, which places his “hopey-changey” comments from the very first issue in a different light.

Current Krakoan Systems Infographic:

I’m going to be brief here, because we already saw these systems in action last issue.

Here, the first thing I want to emphasize is how crucial Doug is to the founding of Krakoa - every single other system relies on his interface system. At the same time, we also learn that Forge is running the Krakoan skunkworks system which creates the biomachinery that all of Krakoa will run on as well. In other words, one founder creates the software and one founder creates the hardware. It’s yet another example of the Krakoan emphasis on accomplishing greater things through cooperation and creativity (and how very much this is a story about nationalism and not cults of personality).

We Hope for Ascension:

I gotta say, I’m with a lot of other people who don’t get why this particular X^3 plot was chosen. It’s harder to grasp and the characters don’t have anywhere as near as much to connect with as X^2. That being said, I have some guesses, which will probably all be proven wrong tomorrow!

As I discussed the last time we saw the post-humans, the difference between conversion and ascension are much less clear than they first appeared...unless (unless...) we’re talking about the whole issue of the philosophy of identity. As the Elder points out, if your culture already has the idea of a self and a seer-self who’s already uploaded into a machine, are you really dying if your body dies? As I’ll get into way more in House of X #5, the argument that the post-resurrection mutants are clones and not the “real McCoys” rests on a particularly strong case of continuity of consciousness that I don’t think holds up to scrutiny.

At the same time, I do think we see here some signs of cultural weakness among the post-humans: they can’t tolerate the idea of being just short of the next step of consciousness/intelligence and are willing to do anything to achieve the goal of achieving the next schematic stage in machine consciousness development, because “isn’t that what’s next.” Except the problem is that it’s a rigged game - there’s always another level, always another Phalanx using you as a Technarch patsy, and it’s not clear from the outset whether these higher stages are all they’re cracked up to be.

Incidentally, I totally misinterpreted what happened here. Initially, I thought that the “seer-self”/recognition sequence thing suggested a way around losing “ sovereignty “ by introducing a memetic virus, given the way that the Phalanx undergo a sudden physical transformation. This doesn’t seem to be the case based on Powers of X #5.

How are the Phalanx not an empire? All they do is expand, consume resources, and either wipe out or “elevate” other cultures on the basis of their own ideas of cultural worthiness. That is the very definition of imperialism!

And here we see the bedrock incompatibility of biological and mechanical transhumanism/singularity.

#xmen #xmen meta #powers of x #hoxpox

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michael-radi-the-glamorous-life · 6 years

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As We Stumble Along...

This week I had the pleasure of being part of the first NYC externship for my Alma Mater’s brand new, and now fully developed, Musical Theater Program. I had the chance to work with some lovely SUNY Geneseo Juniors and Seniors in a new musical theatre workshop - an entirely new experience for all of them - and attended the first ever Senior Showcase. The talent was wonderful, the interactions were lovely, and the entire experience got me thinking…a dangerous pastime, I know.

As a part of the workshop I had to essentially explain to the students who I am, what I do, how that’s relevant to Geneseo, and how I got to where I am. And you know what? That was much more difficult than I expected.

At this moment in my career, these are the titles that I can, and generally do, give myself:

Composer-Lyricist/Librettist (technically 3 titles?)

Performer (Musical and non-Musical Theatre)

Musical Director

Vocal Coach

Accompanist (I do this less often)

Arranger/Orchestrator (though mostly my own material these days)

One of the Geneseo students said “You do so much!” and I guess that’s true. But I think the better question is, how the heck did I learn to do all of these things?

Broadway Standard

The one area from the above list where multiple straightforward and comprehensive paths of education exist is performance.

The theatre as a whole has always recognized that performers are necessary to train in large numbers since shows and theaters exist all over the place with roles that need filling. And performing is the most visible aspect of theatre, which makes it a great entry point for those interest in the business. So plenty of paths exist for people to become performers, and I won’t bore you with the details of mine. Everyone has their own stories on this one.

The other item on the list that is fairly straightforward, though certainly less common than performance, would be accompaniment.

***Quick PSA***: Someone who accompanies is called an ac-com-pa-nist. Not an ac-com-pa-NEE-ist, or any other version. Not a crucial thing to know, but I figured I’d throw it out there :-)

Usually the story I hear from pianists is that they were, at one time in their early life, cornered by some teacher or choral director or other and told they should play piano for a choir, jazz group, or school musical. And thus was born another accompanist.

For me, it was basically the same. My piano teacher told me I should, my choral teacher lost their previous student accompanist, and thus I was tagged for the job!

Where I diverge a little is that I found out I really enjoyed playing musical theatre songs for my friends, and started wanting to be better at it. So I made a point of finding all of the musical theatre music that I could in books and scores, sitting down, and attempting to play it. This is a pastime I continue today, and it has made my skills as an accompanist must stronger - so I would recommend this to anyone looking to hone this particular skill.

Barely Knowing Left From Right

My time at SUNY Geneseo ended up being quite crucial to the accidental development of two other items on that list: musical direction and vocal coaching.

Because I was already a pianist and accompanist, something that was well known by the beginning of my Junior year, I was tapped to be the Musical Director of one of our a cappella groups (and eventually the other as well). I knew from watching previous MDs that the basics of this job was to simply teach notes, but that the good ones could do oh-so-much more. And I wanted to be a good one.

(Anyone surprised? You may have gathered from my blogs thus far that I’m a little competitive about being good at what I do… :-D )

So I went to it. I learned by watching what others did, listening to my favorite arrangements and performances, and started trying things out. It was a lot of trial by fire. But soon I figured out what worked and made the music better, and what to avoid. I had already been arranging for the two groups for over a year at this point (something that I was allowed to just try and found I could do fairly well), so I had some sense of what I was doing. So I took the knowledge I had, added it to the skills I already possessed, and created a new skill set.

Was it perfect right away? Ohhhhhh no. It took me plenty of time to figure it out. But by my Senior year I was comfortable calling myself a Musical Director of both a cappella and musical theare.

As for the vocal coaching, this came from my accompaniment skills as well.

We had a club at Geneseo called MTC (Musical Theatre Club - nailing that name, right?) for which everyone would always stress about auditions each semester. So, being one of the 3-4 pianists in the club, I was often asked by people to help them prepare for their auditions by choosing songs and creating cuts. I found that I was naturally inclined toward this work - something I’d probably not have known if I hadn’t just tried it.

Then, in my later college years, I started gaining the confidence to give some vocal notes to people. I had zero reason to think I had any authority in this matter, but from what I was seeing and hearing I thought I might be able to help.

As it turns out, I was right.

With not an ounce of training (not something I’d really recommend) other than my own vocal training, I found that I had a natural ability to help people adjust their voices. And then of course I wanted to know more, so I began doing my own research and self-education. By the time I left college, I was well on my way to being able to do this sort of work professionally. And now, since it’s how I make the majority of my living and because it’s also an ever-changing field of study, I continue to educate myself on new techniques and styles.

But I’d never have known I could even do this if it hadn’t fallen into my lap and, more importantly, if I hadn’t decided to take the risk and try.

We Pull Our Bootstraps Up

And then we come to the remainder of the list: Composer-Lyricist, Librettist, Orchestrator.

It has been said that “failure is the best teacher,” and in my personal case of these above skills, I must agree.

If I had no business being a Musical Director or Vocal Coach, I had even less business writing music or words for the theatre. I mean, what experience did I have?

None. Not a bit.

Sooooo…?

I love creating. I’ve always loved creating. I had dabbled in some music writing when I was in grade school and did some light composition as part of my Music Theory class in high school - absolutely loving it - but that was the extent of my composition experience. And never had I written a play! I wrote a 5-minute piece once at the NYSSSA Theater Program, but it was terrible and I never tried again.

Until Geneseo, that is.

Playwriting was being offered as a class in my Junior year, so I decided to take it. I had loved my Creative Writing classes in the English Department, but I really longed to write for the stage. So I took it. And I was terrible.

Oh boy, I couldn’t write a play to save my life. And I certainly did try.

I understood the mechanics and the theory and the basics of what to do, but the best thing I could come up with was a murder-thriller spoof called Clue-less, which was actually an out-of-class pet project. It was fairly funny and had some nice dramatic moments, but it still wasn’t good. After getting a solid B- on my final assignment for the class I said that was it for me and playwriting. No more. But then I thought…

What about Musical Theatre? I’m certainly more inclined to writing music than a script…

So, to try out this idea, I decided to take Oscar Hammerstein II’s advice to Stephen Sondheim and attempt the exercise of adapting a play that I admire into a musical. Not for the world to see, necessarily, but for myself and to learn.

The play I chose? A Streetcar Named Desire. I love me some Tennessee Williams, and the high theatricality of the style seemed ripe for some music additions. And best of all, I didn’t have to write the book, just adapt.

I spent 4 weeks over the summer trying my hand at finding song moments, writing in character voices, adapting dialogue into lyrics (though without much structure), and composing a world that sounded like these characters. I tried to tell their stories, moved the action forward, and give a hint of New Orleans. And you know what? It was pretty damn good for a first attempt.

I was encouraged. I decided to be bolder for the second go-round and write an original musical as my Honors Project at Geneseo. Due to some college politics, the project could only be approved if I wrote the book, music, and lyrics, as well as stage the entire thing in my second semester acting as musical director, director, and producer. Certainly a tremendous undertaking - and the point of this was to scare me off - but again I said yes. Bring it on.

Thus a musical - and mediocre one at best - called PICk Love was born. I did all that was asked of me, and an audience of ~300 people ended up seeing it over two performances at the end of my Senior year. I had even gone through the process of learning how to orchestrate in a direct study (since I wasn’t wearing enough hats already) and continued to work on the show after graduation.

Loooooong story short, I was hooked. I wanted to learn more, and correctly now. So I auditioned for the BMI Lehman Engel Musical Theater Writing Workshop. Didn’t get in fully, but only as an auditor. Said yes. Met some amazing people and some of my best friends. Re-auditioned the next year. Got in. Said yes again. Met more amazing people, including one of my current collaborators and best friends. Learned so much. Got a ton better. Wrote and re-wrote The King’s Legacy. Met more incredible people. Kept saying yes.

We Live And We Learn

Most of the things on my list are skills I received no formal education for. In fact, there aren’t a lot of ways to receive a formal education in some of them. And this thing I had no idea how to do, let alone whether or not I could actually do it, is now one of the main parts of my career. But how did I get here?

Everyone has skills, whether from natural ability or because they’ve been honed. Everyone has interests and passions, even if they’re mostly unexplored. And, if you want, these things can come come together to create new skills and pathways that you previously may not have known existed. All you need to do is try.

Try and fail. Try again. Dislike you work. Research. Watch and listen and learn. Try and fail again. Like a little of what you’ve created. Reignite your passion when necessary. Continuously hone your skills. Try again. Fail. Succeed. And most of all, just say yes.

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writtenpresents-not-blog · 6 years

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Christmas Scavenger Hunt

Title: Christmas Scavenger Hunt |Draco Malfoy x Reader|

Description: You were going to be all alone for Christmas as Hogwarts. That was until you woke up to someone leaving notes for you to follow.

Warnings: Really fluffy. Mentions of a fight(doesn’t go into details though)

Authors Note: Now THIS was a cute one! I got a bunch of Harry Potter things for Christmas and when I saw the Slytherin Serpent print on one of the items I had an idea for Draco out of now where. This is what I came up with. My house is Slytherin so there is a part in this later that I will address around that part to say what you need to add. Sorry. It’ll make sense when you get there. Enjoy. Happy Christmas!

Words: 2,564

Other: On Wattpad | Masterlist

A groan escaped your lips as you opened you eyes only to shut them once again and roll over in the bed. You clutched you pillow tightly wishing to go back to sleep. There was no one around this time of the year, there was no classes to have to attend, there were no friends to really talk to since they all went back home for the Christmas holiday. What was the reason to get up? As you closed your eyes harder and tried to find the sleep again you couldn't help but become aware of the sudden shuffling around the room. Sure you had another class mate in the room with you since they hadn't left either but their bed was on the complete other side, you shouldn't be hearing the shuffling this close to where your bed was.

Suddenly you found a strand of hair move to the other side sending chills of fear down you spin before there was a sudden whispery voice saying "Wake up." Quickly before there was nothing. Turning quickly and sitting up straight you looked around the room only to see absolutely no one. Your breathing was quick still feeling chills from whatever encounter that was. It didn't make sense, there wasn't a away for anyone to just suddenly come in, whisper something, and then take off running. You would have heard them.

As you sat up and examined the room your eyes squinted at the small yellow note that was floating above you. Looking around once again only to seen absolutely nothing you took your hand and grabbed the paper gently before pulling it towards you as you laid back down on the bed. You examined it carefully only seeing you name written on the front. Unfolding the paper carefully you open it up and see what is written inside. "My dear," you begin to read. "It is very important that we meet. It's the perfect time since there is no one around to cause an interruption this time. But before we do you need to go and locate some gifts I have left you around the castle. I figured you deserved the best Christmas I could give you while you were here at Hogwarts." You could only shake your head before closing the paper up again and tapped it against you nose. This had to be some joke, why would anyone give you this? Looking towards the door you see yet another note, this one a different color. Sighing you remove the covers shivering from the sudden cold and left the bed to retrieve it.

Pulling it away from the door you opened it up. Dearest [Y/n], I do hope you find all the gifts I have placed around the castle. I picked my favorite spots that I would always find you in whenever I'd pass by. The second one is actually pretty simple. It'll be in the seat you always take in your first class that you are always late to. Never have I seen you come in on time, I laugh to myself when I see you rush in apologizing over and over and claiming it'd never happen again. You shake your head again with a slightly breathy laugh.

Walking back towards your bed you pull out your luggage before feeling your mouth drop open at the sight of another note. "You have got to be kidding me." you claim before pulling at that one and opening it up. My Dear. Sorry I had to be the one to tell you this, but your style in clothes is just so, what's the word, average? Though I love you wearing all of them and don't mind how plain you are in taste. I'd much rather you wear what's in the box next to you. This is going to be a big day after all and I'd love for you to remember it in the up most style. You felt a little creeped out at the thought of someone going through your belongings without your knowledge but shutting your eyes and you inhaled deeply before searching for that box they claimed would be next to you.

Feeling under the bed you searched for a new item that shouldn't be there as you were glancing towards the stand that you had next to the bed. "Oh, there you are." you whispered gripping the top and sliding it across the floor before it came out from under the bed completely. Pushing you suitcase back under it you put the box on the bed and sat next to it before you opened it. First present. It said on the card that you opened up to find. Pulling it out you noticed there wasn't more to it and just shrugged it off. Pulling out the item inside you saw the white dress appearing from within. It was a short sleeved short white dress that appeared like it would rest right above the knee, black lace decorating the bottom in a jagged floral pattern.

You smiled when you put it on, the fit was perfect on you. You smoothed the bottom a bit feeling a little strange that you were wearing something so... flattering. Pulling your trunk out you pull out a pair of black tights and grab your favorite fluffy boots to wear in addition to the dress. Looking at you up and down you hope for the best and clean yourself up a bit more making sure everything was how you normally had yourself ready before walking out the door to where the clue that was on the door had told you to go.

The halls were empty and extremely quiet compared to how it normally was during these hours. You make your way to where your first class would normally be before opening the door quietly and glancing in. No one was around and it was odd for you. Pushing the door open enough for you to fit you closed it right afterwards and locate your seat. Pulling out the chair a quietly as possible you smiled at the sight of a small box. Picking it up you trade spots and sit while placing it on the table. Unwrapping it slowly you tear the paper covering it revealing a white box with a lid. Removing the lid you stared in awe at the beautiful jewel that was in the center. Carefully pulling it out you find a chain following it and smile brightly before unclasping it and placing it around your neck carefully. Looking back into the box you see a note and pull it out. You look beautiful in it my Love, I'm sure of it and I can't wait to see it in person later tonight. The next gift is resting on the side of the court yard on of the sills which you are always hanging around when you are in need of fresh air. You closed the box taking the note with you before discarding the wrapping paper into the trash and walked out the door once more closing it behind you.

Walking towards the courtyard you went to your own favorite spot. Even though it was pretty cold you didn't mind it, you were usually always coming here even if you didn't need fresh air. It was just a pleasant area. You smiled at the sight before you, snow covered the ground and the tree and still continued to fall gently from the sky. You didn't like the cold too much but you definitely loved how the snow fell and would love to see that more often than you normally got to. Looking down at the sill where the note had suggested to go you smiled again at seeing a nice small neatly wrapped gift sitting in the corner that you normally lean against. Picking it up you leaned your back against the wall and unwrapped it gently. Revealing another small white box with a lid you found yourself eager to open it as quickly as possible. Removing the lid you smile faded and your heart beat quicker than it should have. Pulling the thin silver ring with a single tiny jeweled white heart out of the box you slowly slid to the ground. Putting the box down you put the ring on your middle finger and stared at it resting there. Your mothers ring rested where it did before you had lost it a few weeks ago when one of the girls decided to have a problem with you.

You held back the tears of joy that wanted to spill and looked inside the box to find another note. My dearest [Y/n], I noticed a while back that something was missing from you the day this wasn't on your hand. I didn't know what happened that day but recall hearing something about the fight you had. Since you had made no move to recover this object I took it upon myself to get it back for you. I had a little chat with the girl who took it from you and made it very clear that she needed to leave you alone. So far it seems like she has. No thanks are necessary. This gift has been long overdue. As for you next clue: There is a key that you need to retrieve next to the Slytherin Corridor. Look for the note next to the damp wet walls.

Glancing up at the ceiling you debated what this was. Was it just a joke or was it something that you should actually do? Looking at the snow again as you rose you nodded to yourself. You needed to go and see what the next clue would tell you, after all it didn't make sense for this person to give you all these gifts if they were just playing a cruel joke on you. Walking down towards where the Slytherin house's corridor was located you pass the wet wall. You swallowed hard and ended up smiling when you saw the note. Pulling it off the wall you opened the folded paper up as you did with all the others and read the inside of the note.

Dearest [Y/n], I'm so glad to see you get this far. This is your key inside, Just say the password and enter. The next clue will be in a book that you constantly seem to read that will be located on the table in front of the fire place. *If you are not in the Slytherin house just pretend it said what the password to gain access to the door behind the walls was*

You faced the walls and tell them the password you knew and watched as they opened. With a small smirk you walk passed them and push the door open before you entered the common room. Closing the door behind you, you look around before locating the book the note had mentioned. Smiling a bit more you walk towards the fireplace and grabbed the book of the table before opening it and searching for the note that was said to be in there. Locating the page you take the note into your hands. Dearest [Y/n], this will be your final gift of the evening. This book you always seem to read turned out to be quite interesting if I do say so myself. The page you found this on turned out to be my favorite out of all the others. I'd like you to know that my father was quite displeased when I told him I wasn't traveling home this holiday. I told him I couldn't tell him why, but no matter what consequence he gives me understand that you were worth it all. Now, turn around. Your face turned into a puzzled look before you repeated the last two words. "Turn around?" You asked before turning around slowly and feeling unsure what to do next. "Draco..."

"[Y/n]" he replied calmly before turning his head up to look at you.

"Uh.. What.. what are you doing here?" you weren't sure why you were suddenly so nervous. Draco was just another boy in school, nothing to be afraid of. At least, you never had a major problem with him before.

"Well I am a Slytherin. And this is the Slytherin Corridor." He explained before eyeing you up and down. "You actually wore it." he whispered.

"What?"

"I'm... Surprised to see you here. I, didn't actually expect you to come."

"You were the one leaving all the notes?"

"And gifts, yes."

"Why?"

"Well, to give you a good Christmas this year." He said and shrugged.

"No, I know what the note said. I just mean, why would you do that? We hardly ever spoke, you shouldn't feel like you have to do that."

"I never said that I had to. I just wanted to." He claimed looking up at you again.

"But... why?" you didn't understand why a person like Draco really cared about your Christmas. He was silent to the question but offered you his hand. Looking around the room before looking back at him and then his hand you made your way closer to him and gently placed your hand over his. Looking at your gently hand in his he closed his around yours smiling.

"It was so hard to get that back for you. She absolutely hated the fact that I was there for it. She also asked why, but even I didn't really know." You watched as he spoke and saw he was looking at the ring on your finger. "Though, when you started telling all your friends that you were going to be all alone here on Christmas because of what happened at home I... I was actually relieved."

"Relieved?" His blue eyes looked into your [e/c] eyes with a smile.

"Yeah. I wasn't happy that you couldn't be with family, but I was happy that you'd be alone. I knew that if you were alone then I could give the ring back to you. But I didn't just want to give it back to you, I wanted to give you more. And it was then that I realized why." He paused, his hand let go of yous only to move to your hip, while the other went up to lightly hold your cheek. "[Y/n], I'm in love with you. I always had been." You didn't know what to tell him but you felt yourself blush as your heart pounded a little harder each second.

"Draco... I.. I don't know what to say."

He smiled a little brighter before saying. "Look up."

Looking up as he requested you felt butterflies form. "Mistletoe." you whispered before looking back at him.

"Yeah. You know what happens under a mistletoe right?"

"Yes."

"So?" he asked a bit worried unsure if you were going to reject him or not.

"Yes." Your soft reply caused a bright smile to form before he began to lean in tilting his head ever so slightly to avoid bumping your noses. You found yourself closing the gap that was left and felt your heart jump at the feeling of his lips against your. Your hands grabbed onto his shirt pulling him closer to you ans his hand on your hip pulled you closer as well. Your lips moved together in sync for what felt like forever.

Pulling away after a little bit you felt your face burning as he just smiled. "Happy Christmas [Y/n]."

"Happy Christmas Draco."

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy one shot #draco malfoy oneshot #Draco MalfoyxFem!Reader #Draco Malfoy x Reader #Draco Malfoy x Female!Reader #One Shot #Oneshot #Imagine #Mist_One #Mist[One]

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augustwash1 · 4 years

Text

Effective Guidelines to Love Life More Hiding your Cell Phone

Is incredibly regular for people to use somebody else's phone and be the first time. In doing so , were seeking to replicate that initial feeling of independence a mobile phone delivers. A relative in another point out was in the hospital. It was a Sunday evening, and I have been invited into a party. Instead of being away having fun I was sitting in my own apartment, awaiting the phone to call, troubled for reports. It was an associate who lend me his cellphone to make certain I will understand any news as quickly as possible, and in addition, be able to go to the party. There was no reason for me personally to be connected to my landline. We look back again at that occasion, and in addition for wondering at exactly how gracious my pal was in loaning me his phone intended for the night (who would volunteer their mobile phone away nowadays? ), My spouse and i couldn’t stop being amazed at the freedom this cellphone gave me. I had been able to venture out and be social - while still staying accessible simultaneously. This is the kind of freedom mobile phones give. But today our phones are about a lot more than audio calls, and they are no more an optionally available possession. They are really integrated into existence in ways not really their designers thought possible. However screen period is the new sitting in a desk chair all day at a time, which I happen to agree is a poor thing. I have a standing table and it is been a life changer. Industry when we are electronically connected more than ever, yet feeling alot more detached than ever, we are being taught, even cautioned, to minimize the dependence on cellular phones. To actually limit our time in front of screens, to put the phone down and also have a real discussion with someone, face to face. Prevention of gadgets and screen time has become becoming a extravagance item; being able to disconnect from your phones to get an extended time period bestows a status that a lot of us can’t afford or obtain. Do it, our company is told, for your sanity in the event that not humanity, and also for your neck: regularly looking straight down at your mobile phone strains your lower back, which leads to all sort of physical distress. I’ve also experienced repeating stress affliction with my hand from a lot of scrolling, and I could trust my forearm sometimes is painful in a odd place if I’ve applied my cellphone for very long. However can be using each of our cell phones a lot really so bad? Does being addicted to the phones genuinely disconnect all of us from others as much we think? Are not there positive factors for the activities that occupy all of us while our company is clutched to our mobile phones? Whenever we use our phones, can there be something we are missing that individuals would be carrying out otherwise? We get a great deal out of using my own cell phone, therefore no, Really dont want that will put it straight down. The answer is to not be socially shamed into using my own cell phone significantly less. The answer is to make certain cellphone use is hard to kick and beneficial and amusing, not a distraction coming from boredom or perhaps isolating you from sociable or professional settings. It is crucial to be intentional and conscious of how youre using your cellphone, not if you’re utilizing it at all or perhaps too much. The minds are constantly operating, processing our many thoughts, worries, problems, plans. We require a thoughts from all this, but sometimes, life is not so very clear cut. Take those movies. I go, nearly exclusively, into a movie theater which has a strict zero phones, no texting policy. They will put your rear end out if you utilize a phone in the theater. Nevertheless when I was having a friend, in which theater, who was being forever texted by his better half. As it happens her mother was in critical wellness trouble. He wound up leaving the movie to arrange to go to the international airport. As great as an uninterrupted movie encounter is, this doesn’t overcome emergencies if they arise. Couple of experiences with another individual will be as close and developing as a shared meal. (Hang on, I’ll get to love-making in a small. ) If there was ever before a moment once you’d wish to connect with somebody else, immediately, eye to eye, devoid of distraction, it might be over a meals. But, much like almost everything, there could be exclusions. What if, over the course of the chat, you start discussing going on a trip together, or about countrywide parks, or about endangered species? Looking up photos showing your associate can add towards the talk. Successfully Googling a well known fact or reference point can help within your debate. Writing a social media post you found provocative, interesting or perhaps important can be a launching level of a conversation. In those occasions, anyone is not distancing your self or placing something among you and someone else, you are sharing. ver post Believe me, sharing can be a magnificent point. What I’m not fighting is that the two of you should be taking a look at Facebook, independently, without interesting with one another. What I am declaring is that your mobile phone can be a conduit, a guideline, a personal guide for source materials, to bring and aid your chat. In case the focus continues to be on the both of you, the phone is really a prop. If the focus is definitely centered on the device, the gadget is the central magnet and you have shed attachment. The previous is very good, these is not. Each of our phones are a device. How we choose to use this instrument is what give them their particular benefit. You might think the very last place you’d want cellphone distraction could be the bedroom. On the surface, two people resting in bed next to each other, every single with cellular phones in their hands, all but disregarding each other, sounds like one of the most depressing, heart and soul-hurting displays one can easily think of modern life. But could it be naturally poor? If I’m reading the New York Times, what does this matter in the event that I’m browsing the actual conventional paper or the digital version in the device? In the event that I’m examining email, exactly what does it matter if I have a laptop or cellphone? If I am mastering games or otherwise distracted, how much does it subject if I am browsing a book of mastering some game? And in fact, rarely we sometimes glamorize reading in bed jointly? I love studying books, and locate it kind of hot my own partner truly does too. Carrying out that during sex together, then simply talking about what we’re browsing, is a great intellectual turn-on. So with every due value to several investigators, in this case, the carrier is usually not the response. What is important here is certainly not the device by itself, yet the activity you are involved in, either together or independently. There could be togetherness when two people are on their phones, just like there is once reading catalogs. Usually the problem arises when utilization of a gadget supercedes something, or perhaps causes a break up if a point of attachment could otherwise arise. Might associated with your telephones from bed mean more sex? Maybe. Should likewise lead to someone getting out of bed faster in the day time, or perhaps sleeping sooner at night. Although we’re while having sex, did you know that through your phone, you can view movies? Or look at photographs of…. whatever it truly is that arouses you? Or work with software meant to foster dialog or activity with a intimate spouse? The device is a tool. It exists without inherent judgment, qualities or worth. What we label of it is up to us. Should i really need to tell you this? Obviously there are times when you should absolutely never touch your smartphone, starting, surely, with driving a vehicle. (Guilty as recharged: I frequently use the Roadmaps applications in the phone to help me acquire where Im going. It’s not so straightforward, is it? ) I think faith based services must be device-free areas and specific zones, as should particular spaces, like gym bathroom rooms, exactly where privacy needs to be respected. I have a distaste for those who use their phone at the health club; I don’t need to hear your business calls although I’m strength training. Also, I see plenty of people using exercise and workout software on their telephones, showing the issue, that just as before, these types of mini-computers inside our pockets happen to be what we make of them. Should you be one of those people who attend a concert and require saving video footage and shooting photographs the full time, I actually ask how much of that is necessary. Taking joy in the moment for yourself, not merely through a device, is highly advised. But…. have I at any time watched concert footage online taken by somebody else? Yes, I use. A few years ago I was by a golf ball game with my Dad. I have been in the habit of checking Tweets during video games to follow along with the city of followers and media to help boost my connection with the game, and to know more about that which was going on. And that’s great for when watching at home. However I had been there. I didn’t will need that community - I had been with 20, 000 people, and my father. So I set my phone in my bank. I missed the comments. I skipped the details of issues I didn’t see since live, you miss much more than you think.

Yet I was in a position to soak in the surrounding. I had been able to talk to my Dad about what we thought would happen next. And later, at nighttime, when we brought up the game, we all reflected upon so many different occasions, details I might have overlooked had I looked at my own cellphone even more. So almost always there is a trade-off. You will come across moments when the mobile phone may distract you. That muddiness can be a awful thing (when you should be discussing with a loved one) or possibly a good thing (when you’re sad and alone and want something to cheer you up). It can disconnect you (when you avoid another person by diving into social media) or enable you to get together (if you look up a joke to see or employ your cellphone to turn on music to boogie to). Let us not hold our equipment responsible for your condition. A couple, lovers, let’s say, lying down in bed. In a single moment, they are both on their cell phones, lost within their own sides. In the next, their particular phones will be off, for the bedside table. What happens subsequent? Anything could happen. It’s up to the two people included. That’s true whether you may have your telephone in your hand or not. Of course, if you do, you also choose how to use your telephone: in a disconnecting way or possibly a sharing approach. If you’re sense bad or perhaps responsible about being with your mobile phone, guess what happens you should carry out. You really should trust your gut. Is essential to carry the person having the phone accountable, do not blame the product.

#smartphones

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townshade6 · 4 years

Text

There’s Nothing Wrong With Utilizing your Mobile Phone a Lot

Is very not uncommon for people to use another person's cell phone and to be our very first time. In doing so , we are trying to reproduce that first feeling of freedom a phone gives. A family member in another point out was in the hospital. It was a Sunday nighttime, and I have been invited into a party. Rather than being away having fun I had been sitting in my apartment, looking forward to the phone to call, restless for information. It was a pal who provide me his phone to be sure I will find out any information as quickly as possible, and in addition, be able to enroll in the get together. There was zero reason for me to be connected to my own landline. I look back at that illustration, and in addition in wondering at how gracious my friend was in financing me his phone for the night (who would offer their cellphone away today? ), My spouse and i couldn’t has stopped being amazed at the liberty this cellphone gave me. I was able to venture out and be interpersonal - whilst still being accessible as well. This is the kind of freedom cell phones make available. Currently our telephones are regarding far more than vocal communications, and they are no longer an optionally available possession. They can be integrated into existence in ways not really their makers thought. But screen period is the fresh sitting in a chair for hours at a time, which I happen to consent is a bad thing. I have a standing office and it’s been a life changer. In a time when we are digitally connected these days, yet feeling more unconnected than ever, we are being taught, even admonished, to lessen the dependence on cell phones. To limit our amount of time in front of screens, to put the telephone down and have a real dialogue with someone, in the flesh. Elimination of equipment and display time is currently becoming a luxury item; to be able to disconnect from our phones to get an extended period of time bestows a status that a lot of us can’t find the money for or achieve. Take action, we could told, for your sanity if perhaps not humankind, and also for your neck: constantly looking down at your cellphone strains your lower back, which leads to all type of physical pain. I’ve possibly experienced repeating stress symptoms with my fingers from a lot of scrolling, and i also could swear my forearm sometimes affects in a weird place if I’ve utilized my telephone for too much time. However is using the cell phones a lot really so bad? Does staying addicted to the phones genuinely disconnect all of us from other folks as much we believe? Aren’t there gains for the activities that consume us while were clutched to the smartphones? Whenever we use our phones, perhaps there is something we’re missing that we would be doing otherwise? I get a whole lot out of using my personal cell phone, and so no, Really dont want to set it straight down. The answer is never to be socially shamed in using my cell phone significantly less. The response is to ensure cell phone use is addictive and productive and entertaining, not only a distraction coming from boredom or perhaps isolating you from cultural or specialist settings. It is crucial to be intentional and aware about how youre using your phone, not whether you’re using it at all or too much. The minds will be constantly operating, processing our many thoughts, worries, concerns, plans. We really need a frenzymadness, desperation, hysteria, mania, insanity, delirium, derangement from all of it, but occasionally, life isn’t so obvious cut.

Take those movies. My spouse and i go, almost exclusively, to a movie theater having a strict simply no phones, simply no texting plan. They will chuck your ass out if you utilize a mobile phone in the theater. Yet once I was which has a friend, too theater, who had been being endlessly texted by his wife. We now know her mother was in critical health problem. He wound up leaving the movie to organize to go to the airport. As wonderful as a continuous movie encounter is, that doesn’t overcome emergencies whenever they arise. Handful of experiences with another person happen to be as close and binding as a distributed meal. (Hang on, I can get to sexual in a minute. ) In the event that there was ever before a moment when ever you could wish to connect with other people, straight, eye to eye, with no distraction, it could be over a food. However, just like almost everything, there may be exclusions. Suppose, throughout the dialog, you start discussing taking a vacation together, or about national parks, or about decreasing in numbers species? Looking up pics to show your companion can add towards the conversation. Quickly Googling a well known fact or reference point can help within your argument. Showing a social media post you found attention grabbing, interesting or perhaps important can be quite a launching stage of a chat. In individuals moments, anyone is not distancing yourself or adding something in the middle you and someone else, you will be sharing. And sharing can be a beautiful thing. What Im not quarrelling is that the both of you should be looking at Facebook, individually, without interesting together. The things i am saying is that your device can be a conduit, a lead, a resource intended for source material, to add and help the chat. If the focus remains to be on the both of you, the phone is a prop. If the focus is definitely centered on the product, the device is an essential seduction and you’ve misplaced interconnection. The former is very good, the latter is certainly not. Each of our cell phones are a instrument. The ideal way all of us choose to use this device is exactly what give them their very own worth. You are likely to think the very last place you’d want cellphone interference would be the bedroom. On the face of it, two people lying down in bed up coming to each other, every single with cellular phones in their hands, all but disregarding each other, sounds like one of the most depressing, spirit-killing scenes one can easily think of modern lifestyle. However would it be naturally awful? If I am reading the newspaper, what does that matter in the event that I’m browsing the actual daily news or the online version in the smartphone? In the event that I’m checking out e-mail, how much does it matter if I have a laptop or telephone? If Im having fun with online games or else distracted, what does it subject if Im browsing an e book of playing a few game? And in the end, don’t we at times glamorize examining in bed with each other? I love reading books, in order to find it sort of hot my partner truly does too. Performing that while having sex together, after that talking about what we’re browsing, is a great intellectual turn-on. So with all due esteem to several investigators, in this case, the carrier is definitely not the message. What is important here is certainly not the gadget by itself, yet the activity you’re involved in, either collectively or independently. There can easily still be togetherness when two people are on all their telephones, just like there is when ever reading literature. The most really important problem arises when use of a phone eliminates something, or perhaps triggers a separation if a point of attachment will otherwise take place. Might associated with your phones from pickup bed mean more sex? Might be. It could likewise lead to an individual getting out of bed quicker in the day time, or sleeping sooner at nighttime. Although we are while having sex, did you know that through your smartphone, you can watch videos? Or perhaps look at pictures of…. whatever it can be that excites you? Or make use of software intended to foster discussion or activity with a intimate spouse? The phone is a instrument. It is present without inherent judgment, qualities or value. What we make of it is approximately us. Do I really need to let you know this? Obviously there are times when you must absolutely hardly ever touch the mobile phone, beginning, naturally, with driving a car. (Guilty as billed: I generally use the Roadmaps programs in the phone to aid me receive where I’m going. It isn’t really so simple, is it? ) I think faith based services needs to be device-free specific zones, as should particular spaces, just like gym bathtub rooms, exactly where privacy should be respected. Excellent distaste for people who use their very own phone at the health club; I don’t want to hear your business calls whilst I’m lifting weights. At the same time, I see a lot of people using workout and work out apps on their mobile phones, proving the issue, that once more, these mini-pc systems inside our pockets will be what we make of them. Should you be one of those individuals that attend a live show and insist upon recording video and shooting pictures the whole time, My spouse and i ask how a lot of that is necessary. Experiencing the moment in time for yourself, not simply through a unit, is highly advised. But…. include I ever watched live show footage online taken by somebody else? Yes, I have. Just a few years in the past I was by a field hockey game with my Dad. I’ve been in the habit of checking Facebook during game titles to follow along with the community of enthusiasts and media to help improve my experience of the game, and know more about the thing that was going on. And that’s ideal for when watching at home. Yet I had been there. I didn’t require that community - I had been with 20, 000 persons, and my Dad. Consequently I set my phone in my pocket. I overlooked the comments. I missed the details of points I didn’t see since live, you miss much more than you think. Nevertheless I was in a position to drench in the surrounding. I was able to talk to my Dad as to what we thought would happen subsequent. And later, through the night, when we mentioned the game, we reflected upon so many different moments, details I might have overlooked had We looked at my own phone even more. So there is always a trade off. You will discover moments when your phone can distract you. That muddiness can be a bad thing (when you should be speaking with a cherished one) or a good thing (when you’re sad and only and need something to cheer you up). It can detach you (when you steer clear of another person by simply diving in to social media) or provide you with together (if you look up a joke to share or work with your telephone to turn on music to party to). Let’s not keep our equipment responsible for the human condition. A couple, lovers, let us say, resting in bed. In a single moment, they are on their cell phones, lost inside their own sides. In the next, their very own phones are off, for the bedside table. What happens next? Anything can occur. It’s to the two people involved. That is authentic whether you have your mobile phone in your hand or perhaps not. And if you do, you also choose how to use your telephone: in a disconnecting way or possibly a sharing method. If you are feeling bad or perhaps responsible regarding being on your mobile phone, do you know what you should carry out. You would need to put your trust in your gut. Is important to support the person having the cellphone liable, usually do not blame the tool.

#smartphones #social media

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2-fast-2-curious · 7 years

Text

This Photograph is Proof You Know I Know

Pairing: Negan x reader

Summary: You’re stuck in an unfulfilling job at the Sanctuary when Negan offers you a chance to pursue your passion

Warnings: inappropriate language because it’s Negan, a sexual situation between people of differing power dynamics (Is that a warning? Basically, Negan has sex with one of the workers at the Sanctuary), oral sex

Words: 1895

Author’s Note: This was written for @i-am-negan-trash ‘s fic exchange. My fic partner, @jdmfanfiction wrote me this amazing piece of writing and I ended up waiting almost up until the deadline to finish mine. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I was going to name this piece after a Nickleback song until I dug into my repertoire of angsty emo music

“The best thing about a picture is that it never changes, even when the people in it do.” - Andy Warhol

It started when the Saviors found an abandoned department store. Of course, the outdoor/sporting goods section had been absolutely annihilated. There wasn’t a single item left on the shelves. But the rest of the store was perfectly intact. You guessed whoever raided the place had done so before permanent settlements had formed. Groups travelling on foot didn’t have much use for frilly lingerie or dishwashers. While the other Saviors loaded the trucks with appliances and furniture. You were stuck filling suitcases with clothes. You sighed, your job at the Sanctuary was basically to act as a personal shopper for Negan’s wives. As he put it, you were responsible for keeping his wives looking hot for him. Negan had mentioned that he might be adding a couple of new wives to the roster so you grabbed a black dress in every size you could find.

You had zipped up your last suitcase and handed it off to Laura when you spotted two men carrying a flat screen tv. “Where did you get that?”

They nodded towards the corner where you saw an electronics section. You hadn’t noticed that before which was shocking since it looked like it was the most popular section for the Negan's men. They were all helping themselves to various video game consoles and carrying armfuls of games. You rolled your eyes and walked past them to reach the only device you were interested in. You kneeled down and grabbed a camera, the fancy kind with interchangeable lenses, the kind you could've never imagined being able to afford before the world was overrun with zombies.

You had your pick of the entire photography section and you were helping yourself to as much as you could carry. Suddenly you felt a chill come over you, you felt uneasy. Having survived as long as you did before you joined the Saviors, you knew when you were being watched.

"Boo," said an intimidating but familiar voice.

You gasped, using one hand to cover your mouth and the other to playfully slap the shoulder of the culprit. “Negan! You scared me.“

Negan chuckled pleased with your reaction. “Sorry sweetcheeks, just trying to finding something other than Who's The Boss for Dwight to watch." You saw that Negan did indeed have a handful of DVDs in his hand "Do you think he’d like the first season of Siesta Key?“

You laughed "I'm sure he'll love it." You found Negan quite easy going which was something not everyone could say. Of course, you witnessed how irrational and erratic he could be as a rule. However, you actually liked spending one-on-one time with him and his dark sense of humour. Besides, your job was crucial to keeping Negan's wives happy so he knew not to rub you the wrong way.

Negan glanced over at the boxes you had clutched in your hands. "What do you have here? A camera? You know we got one of those from Alexandria."

You scoffed. "No offence Negan but this one is top of the line with all the bells of whistles"

Negan shrugged. "So what are you going to do with it?"

“Well..." The question stumped you. The answer should be obvious, take photos but what would be your subject? The land surrounding the Sanctuary wasn't anything like the bucolic fields and trails of its past "I used to love taking photos before everything happened.”

Negan noticed your puzzled expression. "Well darlin’, how would you like to use this little hobby of yours to earn your keep around here"

You raised an eyebrow, sure he had his men snag some priceless pieces from the Smithsonian but Negan wasn't exactly known to be a patron of the arts. You couldn't see him offering you points to shoot photos of wildlife for his private collection."What do you mean?"

"I mean that I'm out here doing all this rad shit and I'm thinking it's a little unfair that not everyone gets to see it." Negan grabbed a couple more DVDs. "Effective immediately, I'm putting you in charge of communications here at the Sanctuary. Dwight can take over finding shit for the wives. You just got a promotion, you are going to follow me like a shadow and let everyone know what they are missing. Any questions, darlin’?"

You bit your lip and nodded your head. When Negan offered you a chance to end your days of digging through lacey undergarments, you were going to take it.

Negan handed you back your camera. "Get that thing charged and I'll see you first thing tomorrow morning."

You became the in-house photojournalist for Negan, you accompanied him everywhere and took photos of him. You wrote a weekly newsletter which was printed and distributed around the Sanctuary and gave updates on what their fearless leader was doing. Yup, your job was basically producing propaganda for Negan. The propinquity to Negan your new job provided also meant that you developed a certain fondness for your leader. It also didn’t hurt that he was charismatic as fuck and had killer arms from carrying around Lucille.

You were on the computer adding meta tags to some of the photos you took and you couldn't help but chuckle at a couple of them. The way Simon could contort his face should make him a national treasure. You blushed when you came across a photo you took for completely selfish reasons. You moved the image of Negan stretching, the hem of his white t-shirt just above his navel exposing his happy trail, into your personal folder with the other gratuitous photos you had taken of him. You quickly switched back to looking at a relatively tame photo of Negan and some of the Saviors next to the produce they collected from the Kingdom.

Negan strolled into your office carrying a freshly cleaned Lucille. He peered over your shoulder and squinted at the computer screen. "Who's that?"

You glanced where Negan was pointing. "Darren"

"And her?"

"Melissa"

"Darlin', that's the fucking problem we have so many fucking people here I can't remember all their fucking names." It was true there had been many new additions to the Sanctuary, anyone would have a hard time keeping them straight. Negan rubbed his jaw, you could tell he was thinking up a plan. "You’re going to stay behind for the next little while. I need my personal photographer to capture portraits of every fucker here and pass them onto my men working the gates."

Instead of shadowing Negan like you usually did, you went all over the Sanctuary. One by one, you took photos of everyone, tapping them on the shoulder and pressing the button on your camera. By the end of the week, you had completed your assignment and you felt quite proud to present Negan with your album of hand labelled photos.

You couldn’t help but fidget as you watched Negan flip through the pages. You saw him nod approvingly and thought you were off the hook but it wasn't long until his brows furrowed.

"What's wrong?" You really didn't want to redo the assignment. It was quite tedious to track everyone down and have them agree to pose for a photo.

“Darlin’, we have a problem. We have photos of everyone here except for you.“

"Oh" to be honest, you hadn't considered the fact that Negan would need your photo. He already knew who you were. And almost all his men recognized you from your days shadowing Negan.

"Give me your camera, I'll do the honours." You gingerly handed your camera to Negan and prayed that he would be gentle with your baby. You sat up straight on the chaise in your office and looked directly at the camera. Having your photo taken in such formal circumstances brought you right back to picture day in school.

Negan sighed, putting down your camera before taking a proper shot. “This isn’t a fucking mugshot, look like you’re having a good time. I’ve seen people more excited staring down the shaft of Lucille.”

You laughed, the result of both Negan’s comments and your effort to look less miserable in your Sanctuary directory photo.

Negan was fiddling with your camera when a devilish smirk crossed his face. “Darlin’, I didn’t know everyone here needed to see such close-up photos of my arm.”

You smiled, your time had come, you had finally gotten caught red-handed. “Those are for my private collection.”

Negan licked his lips. “Really? Well, maybe I need to start assembling a fucking private portfolio of my own.”

Negan leaned over and brushed some of your hair out of your face. You leaned over and kissed him, you had always wondered how it would feel to be so close to Negan.

He pulled away from the kiss and trailed his finger down the sleeve of your shirt. "Come on darling, show me some skin."

You nodded, fumbling around with your top until it over your head and off your body. “Much better.” Negan groaned as he took photos of your newly exposed body on your camera.

Hearing the reaction you could incite out of Negan made initial stagefright you felt about being so exposed dissipate. In fact, his intense stare was starting to make you feel incredibly desirable. You went ahead and removed more of your clothes and even started to experiment with your poses.

You were lying completely naked on your back. When you heard the telltale sound of your camera turn itself off. It must’ve run out of power.

“Now that my private collection is completed. The real fun can begin.” Negan was sporting his usual shit-eating grin. You watched as he got on his knees and used his hands to pull your legs apart.

You spread your limbs, exposing yourself completely to the man. Negan licked his lips at the glistening wetness between your legs. “Don’t you look good enough to eat?”

He ran a finger down your slit. You shivered at the feeling of his buttery leather glove on your cunt. You whimpered. “Negan, I want you.”

Negan chuckled, removing his finger and pretending not to hear you. “What was that, darlin’?”

You arched your back trying to get closer to Negan’s digits. “I need your mouth between my legs! Please!”

Negan obliged, pressing his tongue flat against your slit, and making you scream. You tried to clamp your legs closed but Negan held them open, keeping your pussy exposed for him. His tongue worked wonders on your cunt. You felt your orgasm radiate from your core and you gave in, letting Negan see you in all your glory. You stretched yourself out on the chaise, enjoying the looseness you felt in your limbs.

You made an attempt to grab your camera from Negan’s hands in your post-orgasmic state. But you were too slow and Negan easily kept the device out of your reach. “Nuh uh, darling. Like I said these are for my private collection”

You rolled your eyes, pretending to pout. Negan smirked at your reaction, “But I’m an equal opportunist. If you never want to print the Sanctuary's own fucking version of Playgirl. You know where to find me.”

Negan pulled the memory card out of your camera and left your office, whistling as he walked down the hallway with the camera’s memory card in the pocket of his leather jacket.

#negan-trash 2k fic exchange #negan x reader #negan x you #negan's thirst squad #negan smut #negan's network #twd negan #negan fanfiction #negan imagine

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theonyxpath · 7 years

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Hi, Rose here. ^_^ Changeling has officially gone to editing! To celebrate, I thought I’d preview one of Meghan and my favorite freeholds from Chapter 6, Lauren Roy’s Tumbledown Market.

Tumbledown Market

The French Market, New Orleans, Louisiana Large Flea Markets across the United States

Running alongside the Mississippi River at the edge of the French Quarter is New Orleans’ French Market. It’s part flea market, part souvenir shop, and part art show. Tourists and residents alike browse the market’s wares. Anything you might need is likely to be tucked away in a stall, from tee shirts to spices to jewelry.

The French Market is also home to a goblin market so sprawling that it’s broken the bounds of not only the alleys of shops along the river, but New Orleans itself. Used to be, the only way to enter the goblin market of Tumbledown was to know the secret entrance at the back of the French Market, near Barracks Street. Nowadays, it has grown so large you can find trods in just about any large flea market in the United States that will wind you up in Tumbledown.

The freehold of Fair Coin began as a motley that traded frequently in the market. Its members are mostly composed of New Orleans residents, but as Tumbledown’s borders have spread, its changeling residents have accepted more out-of-towners into the fold. Tumbledown is always open for business. It’s exhilarating and exhausting, a non-stop carnival even in the dead of night. Someone’s always willing to make a deal.

Historiarum Obscura

Native Americans had established a trading post along the Mississippi River well before Europeans colonized the area. The market’s location shifted occasionally, but stayed in the general vicinity. In 1791, the space that had once been known as the Meat Market — the only place in the French Quarter where meat was allowed to be sold — became officially known as the French Market. It was largely an open-air market at first, with structures being added near-constantly over the next two hundred years. The French Market stretches six blocks, from Café du Monde in the market’s original location, down to the flea market stalls across from the New Orleans Mint downriver.

The goblin market of Tumbledown began as a few stalls tucked in among the mundane vendors. A few enterprising traders sold goblin fruit alongside the everyday fruit sellers. Careful listeners might hear the details of a pledge being hammered out amidst the humans haggling for a deal.

As the French Market expanded, so did its goblin counterpart. More stalls popped up. More hobgoblins left the Hedge to hawk their wares. Shoppers came from far and wide to hunt for rare items, so many that the sellers began hiring Ogres to guard the Barracks Street entrance, letting only a handful of buyers through at a time to keep the humans from noticing.

In the late 1800s, a change rippled through Tumbledown. Where for decades, travelers came to the goblin market, suddenly the goblin market came to them. The spaces between stalls in markets across the country opened out into the humid air of New Orleans, the smell of the Mississippi and the lilt of Creole. Trods that had been closed off or forgotten opened up, their roads leading to Tumbledown. The market itself expanded, sprawling far beyond the six blocks in the French Quarter. Not only was there room for more vendors, Tumbledown became a small town all its own, with merchants and visitors pitching tents on the outskirts. Over the years, permanent structures have taken their places, housing inns, taverns, and storefronts. Most of them echo French Quarter architecture, even though they reside in the Hedge.

Theories explaining exactly what happened abound, but not a one has been proven true. One rumor tells of a massive contract negotiated with an embodiment of Commerce. Another suggests a fae merchant opened the Trods in a burst of Glamour and was never seen again. An old Wizened, who spent all his years studying the Hedge, insisted until his dying day that the Hedge itself decided Tumbledown should exist, and so it was. The proprietor of the Sans Merci tavern hosts storytelling contests twice a year, seeking the best telling of Tumbledown’s origin — it doesn’t matter if it’s true, only that it entertains.

New Orleans has other freeholds, but Tumbledown holds itself separate. The freehold of Fair Coin started with a motley whose members frequented the French Market. Elaine Beaudoin’s family worked the same stall for generations, selling fresh seafood and small bites to hungry browsers. Two years after her Keeper stole her away, she returned to find her fetch bantering with her favorite customers. A nearby merchant offered her a handkerchief to catch her tears, and it took a few moments before she realized the handkerchief was made of dream-silk, and her companion had the face of a cat. She took a job with the silk-seller, only a few stalls down from her family’s, and traded there unseen for months before she fell in with her motley.

They were all changelings from New Orleans, several of them scouring the goblin market on a regular basis for Contracts that might help protect them or their families — even though those families had forgotten them, or never knew they were gone.

When Tumbledown expanded, Elaine was there. The influx of new customers, many of them Lost themselves, meant a slew of people who needed guidance and protection. When a person desperately seeks an item, Tumbledown’s pull can be overwhelming. Many shoppers find themselves wandering the stalls, unsure of how they arrived but certain the answers to their problems will be found hanging from a rack or twinkling in the starlight. The freehold of Fair Coin formed to help those travelers, to keep changelings from bartering away their hearts, their dreams, or their freedoms for deals that don’t balance out.

The Traders’ Courts

Currency in a goblin market takes several forms, most of it heavily dependent on what the seller wants and what the buyer is willing to trade away. Coins, services, secrets, a favor to be collected later, or a dark deed done now, all are fair and valid trades. Fair Coin’s loyalty is to transactions of all types. The bargains don’t have to be honorable, but they do need to be honored.

The Court of Coins

The simplest transactions are completed with cold, hard, cash, though that cash might more closely resemble lost doubloons or pennies gathered from the depths of a specific wishing fountain in Poughkeepsie. It has a specific value, can be counted, can be bitten to test its realness. Change also jingles in one’s pocket or purse, signifying to anyone listening for its clinking, clattering song that the carrier has riches to spend.

Members of the Court of Coins are the most straightforward of the Lost, preferring to deal in specifics and absolutes. They rarely hide behind ruses, wanting to deal straight with anyone who cares to trade with them, and expecting the same in return.

The Mantle of a Coin courtier carries with it the sound of coins shaken in deep pockets, or bills counted out from a drawer. They smell of copper and paper and ink.

Mantle of Coins

Harvest: Your character gains a Glamour point whenever she successfully hunts down someone who owes her something and gets it.

• Gain bonus dice equal to your character’s Mantle dots on mundane rolls to persuade someone to make an oath (p. XX).

•• Gain bonus dice equal to your character’s Mantle dots to mundane rolls to figure out whether someone is trying to cheat her.

••• Once per chapter, you may spend a Willpower point to grant your character additional dots of the Resources Merit (p. XX) equal to her Mantle dots, to a maximum of five, for the scene.

•••• Once per chapter, reduce your character’s Goblin Debt by his Mantle rating.

••••• Once per scene, you may spend a Willpower point to learn the current heart’s desire of any character present.

The Court of Barter

The farmer will let you sleep in her barn if you brush the horses. The hitchhiker tells stories to the driver who takes her from Boston to Albany, keeping him awake and entertained as the long miles pass. For a week’s worth of the Fairest’s beauty, the hag will help her find her long lost love. People have bartered since time immemorial, trading their surplus to those with needed skills, and letting their trash transmute into another’s treasure.

Changelings who join the Court of Barter realize that everything has value, even if it’s hard to see. It’s this court that takes in most of the newly escaped Lost, guiding them away from the stalls in Tumbledown where less scrupulous merchants will sense their desperation — for information, for vengeance, for word of lost families. The Barter Court makes itself available to witness bargains, letting the entrants know whether their deal is fair or not. While this is generally met with approval, some sellers take it as an insult that their clients distrust them so openly.

The mantle for a Barterer manifests in even tones and calming scents. They leave drips of sealing wax in their wake.

Mantle of Barter

Harvest: Your character gains a Glamour point whenever he successfully intercedes on someone else’s behalf in an unfair deal.

• Gain bonus dice equal to your character’s Mantle dots on mundane rolls to read someone’s situation from their behavior.

•• Gain bonus dice equal to your character’s Mantle dots on mundane rolls to make deals and agreements in Tumbledown.

••• Regain a Willpower point whenever you resolve the Oathbreaker Condition, or when someone else resolves it due to your influence or meddling.

•••• Once per chapter, when the Storyteller spends your Goblin Debt to impose a Condition, you may replace the Condition with another of the same general type.

••••• Once per chapter, you may ask the Storyteller if someone your character is dealing with has left a loophole or catch that will disadvantage him in a deal.

The Court of Favors

Jill never carries cash, but she’s got great credit. Give her a few days and she’ll make it up to you. If the Pie Man will part with one of his goblin fruit tarts, Ash promises she’ll bring him the finest berries from a secret shrub in the Hedge only she can find. Favors are a currency built on risk and trust on the part of both seller and buyer. The seller trusts they’ll recoup their investment; the buyer trusts that, when the bill comes due, they’re not forced to pay more than what their purchase was worth.

The Lost who swear to the Court of Favors tend to be shrewd listeners and smooth talkers. They promise just enough, and know when to walk away from a bad deal. Whatever it is their business partner needs, the changeling knows a guy who can get it for him. Their networks are vast, and oathbreakers are rarely tolerated in their ranks.

Favorsworn mantles carry with them the sound of bells tolling or hands clasping to seal a bargain.

Mantle of Favors

Harvest: Your character gains a Glamour point whenever she makes good on a promise she made within the same chapter.

• Gain bonus dice equal to your character’s Mantle dots on mundane rolls to convince someone to make a bargain (p. XX).

•• Gain the benefits of the Fixer Merit (p. XX) even if your character doesn’t qualify.

••• Other characters take a dice penalty equal to your character’s Mantle dots to mundane rolls to swindle her or lie to her about a deal or promise.

•••• Once per chapter, you may accept a point of Goblin Debt to pawn off an obligation from a bargain onto another changeling without being personally involved.

••••• Once per chapter, you may reroll any mundane action that would pay off a favor she owes and choose which result to keep.

The Court of Shady Deals

The gentle-natured man would never do harm to another living being, but oh, how his neighbor snores at night. If only someone would pinch his nose shut. Sure, you don’t have the Snowdrop Crown in your backpack, but if it were to find its way into it, and then to Tumbledown, well… don’t you want to know if your daughter still dreams about her father? What’s one more throat cut, after all the lives your Keeper made you take?

Members of the Court of Shady Deals are willing to take on the jobs most others would reject outright. They do the hard jobs, the ones that require cold logic, steady hands, and no aversion to blood. They do what’s necessary. They’re not sorry. The Lost who swear to this court are also the freehold’s defenders. If the Huntsmen come near, they know where to hide the bodies.

Light dims around these courtiers, and the sound of knives rasping on whetstone follows them.

Mantle of Shady Deals

Harvest: Your character gains a Glamour point whenever he successfully hides evidence of a dirty deed when someone comes looking for it.

• Gain bonus dice equal to your character’s Mantle dots on mundane rolls to pick a lock or break into a place he doesn’t belong.

•• Gain bonus dice equal to your character’s Mantle dots on mundane rolls to escape a sticky situation unnoticed.

••• Your character may use Goblin Contracts without incurring Goblin Debt a number of times per chapter equal to his Mantle rating.

•••• You may spent a Willpower point to ignore all the effects of the Oathbreaker Condition for one turn.

••••• Once per chapter, you may reroll a surprise attack roll and choose which result to keep.

Faces

Wren Lamontaigne

Wren Lamontaigne was born and raised in the Crescent City. She preferred Decatur to Bourbon, could tell the time by how loudly the Preservation Hall crowd was clapping, and never, ever, wanted to leave. She was taken at nineteen, one minute listening to a tour guide tell his enraptured crowd about the ghosts in the Beauregard House, the next tearing through the Hedge, bits of herself catching on the thorns.

Her Keeper made her tell stories until she was hoarse, then tell more. Wren doesn’t have much of a voice left, but she knows every tale there is to tell. The Lost seek her out in Tumbledown and offer her tea and honey to soothe her ragged throat. In return, she tells them stories: their own.

Charlotte Wake

Charlotte was rarely a good girl. If an elder said “don’t,” she heard “I dare you.” No Trespassing signs were gilded invitations. The French Market at night, after the stalls had closed? She could hardly resist. That first night, she wandered the empty rows, peeking beneath dropcloths and pretending to sell the wares to her imaginary friends. At ten years old, she was the queen of the market. Until the night she snuck in through the Barracks Street gate, and found herself farther from home than her imagination had ever carried her. It was fun at first, some of the vendors as fanciful as anything she’d ever read in her fairy tale collections. But then the Dusk Witch found her, and put her to work. Charlotte served the Dusk Witch for seven years, until the Fair Coin found her and set her free. Now she runs with them, acting as their errand girl and wreaking small havoc on the Dusk Witch’s stall.

The Pie Man

One of the draws of any goblin market worth its salt is the goblin fruit vendor. The Pie Man puts them all to shame. No one’s ever seen him bake, but every morning his stall is filled with racks upon racks of fresh pastries and tarts, their fillings made of goblin fruits of every kind. Something in the dough or his technique enhances their effects. He refuses to share his secrets.

The best pastries are gone within minutes of him putting up his awning, so changelings who want the most potent fruits are wise to arrive at Tumbledown early.

The Tumbledown Players

What’s a market without wandering musicians? The Tumbledown Players are a roving band, who range about the market hearing the latest gossip and weaving it into their songs. They serve as both rumor mill and town criers. Membership in the band rotates, and it doesn’t always consist only of changelings. If a hobgoblin can carry a tune or keep time, they’ve been known to join the ranks now and again.

The players are also said to be able to manipulate behaviors with their music, playing songs that make people more likely to buy, or linger at a stall long enough for the shopkeeper to make the right offer.

Places

Dutch Alley

In New Orleans, Dutch Alley is a row of art galleries and exhibits, the art created by human hands. Tumbledown’s Dutch Alley boasts more unusual pieces, many of them made by local changeling artists. Some are works stolen from Keepers’ palaces, or from their jewelry boxes. The paintings boast colors impossible to reproduce with mundane pigments, and sculptures may once have been alive.

The Sans Merci Tavern

In the middle of a long day of shopping and bargaining, travelers may wish to sit down grab a bite to eat. The Sans Merci has stood for over a hundred years, built after Tumbledown’s expansion. The chefs cater to both changeling and faerie palates, offering pints of ale and thimbles of newborn tears side by side on the menu. The Tumbledown Players and other musicians often stop in to sing for their supper and hear the latest goings-on. The proprietor, a slender, tattooed man who’d look right at home in any bar on Rue Decatur, goes only by the name of Jack. As a game, he offers a reward for anyone who can guess his last name — one guess per patron per night — but it’s been a century, and no one’s hit upon it.

Café du Monde

As far as you can get from the Barracks Street entrance and still be in the French Market is the 24-hour coffee and beignet stand, Café du Monde. It’s a tourist attraction in New Orleans, selling squares of fried dough covered in powdered sugar, and strong chicory coffee. It’s a place many of the Lost go for quiet moments away from the Market. They’re surrounded by humans at all hours, and when you feel your perspective start slipping away from too many encounters with hobgoblins and horrors, a good dose of excited tourists and jaded locals can set you back to whatever your normal is.

The Exchange

Not everyone carries the proper currency with them when they reach Tumbledown. Some come bearing braids of their true love’s hair, only to find the merchant’s had enough of that and now wants the howl of a Briarwolf in a green glass bottle. Rather than going home empty-handed, market-goers stop by the Exchange to see if they can make a swap.

The Exchange doesn’t look too impressive on first glance. Boxes overflowing with what appears to be junk are piled atop one another, their contents spilling out onto the dusty ground. Cardboard produce boxes sit beside milk crates, and steam trunks with broken hinges lay open next them. A pair of badger-faced sisters handle the transactions, sometimes arguing in hushed tones about the values and exchange rates of the items in question.

#Onyx Path Publishing #White Wolf Publishing #Changeling: The Lost #Changeling The Lost #Chronicles of Darkness

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dippedanddripped · 6 years

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As other retail industries have struggled in recent years, skate shops seem more uncertain than ever, and this past weekend we lost a longstanding one:Sunday skate shop in Buffalo, NY.

This got us thinking about what skateboarders and the skate industry can do to help shops (obviously in addition to spending more money). But instead of rehashing reasons to Support Your Local, we talked with shop owners themselves about how we can help them stay in business longer and keep our local scenes healthy.

We tried to represent a good chunk of the U.S. and a few other countries, but there’s no way to fit every shop in the world. Everyone had thoughtful and encouraging things to say, but to not let this become a 60,000 word thesis, we were only able to keep a small selection of responses.

For the shops not represented here (Kingpin, Prov, 8five2, Note), thank you! And for the readers who we forgot to call for their expert opinions, we know we’ll be hearing from you in the comments.

LABOR (NEW YORK, NY)

Has the skate industry done anything to negatively affect core skate shops, and if so, how can we reverse what’s been done? There’s a lot the industry has done and continues to do to negatively impact independently-owned shops, while they shred crocodile tears every time a long-running shop closes. I don’t spend a lot of time being mad at companies for [trying to] grow as much as they can year after year.

When companies make a big push to sell direct to customers—which is one of the biggest factors that drives business away from a skate shop—I can’t really be mad. As shop owners, we understand that’s where the biggest margins are. On the other hand, a company can’t be mad if we choose not to carry their brand or order less because they are selling subscription boxes online, or aggressively opening stand-alone retail stores.

How much longer do you think skate shops can exist as they do now? It’s been discussed for years, but the margin in hard goods at the retail level has to adjust, or shops will absolutely not exist in a few years. At some point, skaters will have to accept that the price of skateboards is not going to be $50 forever. Once we get past that, I think we can start making some progress, but there are still so many people that roll their eyes at the price of skateboards.

35TH NORTH (SEATTLE, WA)

What can shop owners do to attract local business and keep skaters interested in coming and buying stuff, as opposed to buying online or from the mall? We stay busy with events. The Seattle skate scene is rad and everyone supports one another so we love to get involved however we can. Skate shops have to make it a priority to promote and grow their scene, plus keeping your local scene healthy is always a good long-term strategy.

Is there anything that you believe the skate industry has done that had a direct negative effect on core skate shops? Is there any way to reverse what they’ve done? You used to have to fill out on your dealer application how far away your nearest competition was. If it was within a certain radius of an existing shop, brands wouldn’t sell to you. Now you literally have brands that you sell in your store along with big online sites they sell to geo-targeting the customers in your area on Instagram hoping they can get sales. If there is a real concern for the health of shops, big online sites need to be addressed and we need to have rad products that you can only buy from shops that actually do shit for their scenes.

Can you imagine any new business models that could help shops succeed? We are sorry to say it but deck prices should and need to go up. If any Shark Tank-style business guy looked at core shops’ margins on their best selling products, they would think we were all idiots. Most shops make under $10 selling a deck. In Seattle, we would have to sell 13 pro decks every single day just to cover one employee’s daily wage. In fact, if the margins in skating were where they should be, a lot of shops might still be in business.

How much longer do you think skate shops can exist as they do now? I believe with the Olympics coming and more corporations wanting a piece of skateboarding, most of that growth and money will not find it’s way into real skate shops.

When does mass commercial success ever mean good things for a mom and pop business? A lot of that money will find its way to the stores that know nothing about culture, or what really makes skateboarding’s history so great because all of that has nothing to do with sports.

As long as there are cool kids who understand what their core shops are actually selling, then we’ve got a shot.

PLUS SKATE SHOP (ORLANDO, FL)

Can you imagine any new business models that could help shops succeed? Create your shop’s brand identity. In order to improve margins, you have to be able to brand your shop and make kids hyped on repping it. We do the typical shop decks (USA made!) and apparel, but we also do backpacks and wallets and shit. The newer generation of kids was brought up going to stores that only sell products that have the name of the business on it. It’s not unusual for them to walk in and see a rack with just Plus merch on it.

Our Plus merch accounts for about 15-20% of our annual revenue. I don’t think a shop can survive solely selling its own products. The brands a shop carries are what provide the vibe and character of the shop. But then, while they are shopping for those brands, they might notice we have a rad T-shirt or hat and purchase our item also. New brands pop up all the time, shops just have to select the ones they believe will work for them and try to keep the product selection fresh.

How can the skate industry and skaters help shops survive? Better pricing for independent skate retailers would help a ton. Since mega mall stores can order a billion of something, they get it cheaper. That’s just business 101. But, since independent, locally-owned skate shops are the businesses that are keeping skateboarding alive, why not give them better pricing in order to keep their doors open? If all the local shops go away, skateboarding will fall off a cliff.

ORCHARD (BOSTON, MA)

Has the skate industry done anything to negatively affect core skate shops, and if so, how can we reverse what’s been done? If you are a shoe or clothing company, don’t sell hard goods online or at your brick and mortar outlets. I don’t want to have to compete with my partners. It’s pretty simple, if you respect what we do for our city’s skate scene, don’t sell skateboards.

Also, have an MSRP and enforce it. It’s almost 2019 and to keep this ecosystem healthy, a skateboard should cost around $60 or more. In an ideal world, a skateboard shop should be able to sustain by selling mostly skate hard goods, but there are so many volume-driven kooks racing to the bottom. It cheapens the value of a skateboard when you have online cowboys selling the same board at a price that would make a skate shop $4 profit after shipping costs.

“IN AN IDEAL WORLD, A SKATEBOARD SHOP SHOULD BE ABLE TO SUSTAIN BY SELLING MOSTLY SKATE HARD GOODS.”

And then, of course, there’s a lot of bedroom brands and after school projects with someone who has $750 to burn on starting a company based on this cool image they found on Google, and they’ve always wanted to have a brand since Pontus [Alv, Polar Skate Co. Founder] inspired them two years ago when they started skating. So they sell their boards for $35 out of their trunk without consideration for the ecosystem.

How can the skate industry and skaters help shops survive? I get it, no one wants to pay full price, but you can’t say, “I only buy skater-owned. What Sole Tech do you have on discount?”, and expect anyone to have money left over to invest in the scene. Spend your money where you have a personal connection and not just wherever is cheapest. On that note, shops should have some kind of rewards program where they hook up the loyal customers, and if a regular only has $45 but needs new shoes, then work with them and try to find something that works.

ATLAS (SAN MATEO, CA)

How can the skate industry and skaters help shops survive? Be conscious of where your resources go. Brands need to work tightly with their core shops. There’s really not too many shops out there, so I don’t want to hear the excuses like, “Sorry, we’re super slammed, but so down,” and then nothing happens. Action leads to results, inaction leads to potential failure. Skaters, stop buying shit from the mall or Amazon. It doesn’t do shit for your local community. If you truly do not care, then go ahead, spend your money wherever you want, but if you do care, put your money where your mouth is. I also want to make it clear that skate shops are not a charity case, they are hubs that work hard to keep communities strong. It’s a group effort that will pay off if we all stick together.

CIVILST (BERLIN, GERMANY)

How can the skate industry and skaters help shops survive? Unfortunately, Germany is super tough when it comes to hardware. If we would be able to offer hardware at a lower price, kids wouldn’t have to buy at the big online shops. Distributions out here haven’t reacted to dollar conversions in years so hardware is fuckin’ expensive in wholesale and it won’t change since most of them have a monopoly on trucks, wheels, etc. Shoutout to €42 for a single truck!

But if the big companies would consider bigger margins, better payment terms, I believe that it would help a lot. Then you can at least offer some discount on certain products in order to keep your business local and not lose out to online shops.

FTC BARCELONA

How much longer do you think skate shops can exist as they do now? If there’s a local scene, a skate shop will always be there. My shop is in the very center [of Barcelona], near MACBA. People still come to the shop to say hi and have a coffee, even though they could be at sunny MACBA watching people skate. Zumiez doesn’t give you that, right? Fuck! Now I said this and they might start giving free coffee with your board. When Amazon learns how to grip boards, we are all fucked!

Is there anything the skate industry has done that had a directly negative effect on core skate shops, and if so, can it be reversed? Don’t buy your board online, kid! Go to the shop, get out, see the streets and talk to people. There’s a life outside of your phone! Plus, no one is gonna grip your board better than the dude at the skate shop while talking shit about the latest video.

FAITH (BIRMINGHAM, AL)

Can you imagine any new business models that could help shops succeed? We partnered with our friends New Republic Printing. In doing so, we have lowered our overhead on rent and bills and we now have an in-house print shop. I think the key is to find supplemental income that coincides with the shop.

How much longer can shops exist as they do now? I think shops will exist, but not thrive unless you happen to raise the next skateboarding superstar that is looking for a crappy investment to show a loss of income in order to balance out their taxes, come tax season [laughs].

The shops I’ve seen go under have locations that are too large and have several employees on their payroll. In order to survive, I have to not take much income from the shop (less than $1,000 a month). I work 2 other jobs as well, and live minimally with low rent and low bills. I will work to make it work until it can’t work anymore! I think most shop owners are the same way, they are indebted to skateboarding for whatever reason.

How can the skate industry and skaters help shops survive? Brands need to reset the standards of being pro or stop over-saturating the market with so many product choices. They wouldn’t rely so much on prebooking this way, thusly not relying on Zumiez to buy into a product before production. Make prebooking product really worth it for us small guys. 10% off is not good when you can wait a month and buy it for 30% off.

Oh, and fuck selling your product on Amazon!

NO-COMPLY (AUSTIN, TX)

What can shop owners do to attract local business and keep skaters interested in coming and buying stuff, as opposed to buying online or from the mall? Have alternate ways of bringing in new customers that wouldn’t have otherwise come in. We have an espresso bar up front, so many come in for a coffee and are introduced to the rest of the store. Monthly art shows create a community event and keep our walls fresh.

The main thing is to care about skateboarding and be involved in many ways: owners and employees skateboarding, supporting a team, having or coordinating events like video premieres, demos, contests, art shows, parties. Keep up with the current, past, and future of skateboarding, collaborate with brands, interact, relate to and care about the customers. Create a place they can claim as theirs.

Recently, Urban Outfitters started selling skateboards in a partnership with Skate Warehouse. All the skate brands sold on UO’s site agreed to this. Do you think this will affect the industry? For the brands selling to Urban Outfitters, it’s understandable that a quick buck is intoxicating and that they want to get paid. But it’s a one night stand and they are not going to answer your call tomorrow. They are notorious for taking a brand in and if it works well, they just make their own version of it and get rid of the original. By that time, the original skate shops might be gone or they won’t take your call anymore either.

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