#insert itself into everything trying to feel included when no one wants me around

[mechawolfie]

literally nobody was picking up my meds bc they all just assumed someone else would do it and you know having a bit of a Why Am I Alive moment

[nondelphic]

hey! i was wondering if you have any advice for me: I am wanting to write an epic/high fantasy book, and i started with my worldbuilding, then i moved to characters and their individual arcs. my main struggle is coming up with the overarching plot, the main conflict. any tips for coming up with ideas?

thanks for the ask, anon!! (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) ♡⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

tbh i don't have a lot of experience writing fantasy, but! just because i don't have "a lot" doesn't mean i don't have any!! i was in a similar situation to you literally just a few weeks ago when i started worldbuilding and outlining a fantasy plot :D

so!! i'll just tell you the process of how i came up with my plot!! i hope it can help somewhat!

♡ pulling from your worldbuilding

the beauty of worldbuilding and having complete characters is that you literally have everything you need to START writing. but as you said, coming up with an overarching plot can be difficult. i don't know how extensive your worldbuilding is, but for me, my planning included a list of major historical events/eras in my fantasy world. from this, i just decided "okay, the plot is gonna take place during the *insert historical era from my fantasy world*."

then i'd think "okay... what was society like during this historical period?" what kind of power struggles, conflicts, or changes were happening at that time?" from there, the plot practically started writing itself! by narrowing down a specific time and place within your world, you're essentially placing your characters in a pressure cooker of events that are naturally going to generate conflict.

♡ character-driven plot

another approach you can take is to look at your characters’ arcs and ask yourself what situations would force them to grow or challenge their beliefs. think about what each character wants most in life—what would happen if they couldn’t get it? or what if they got it, but at a great cost? you can build the main conflict around these personal stakes, and that can really help drive your plot forward.

for example: say you have different species in your fantasy world, and one of your main characters belongs to a species that’s an outlier in their geographical area. maybe this species has been historically oppressed, or they’re seen as a threat due to some misunderstood ability or ancient conflict. you could focus on how your character fits into the world—they might struggle with their identity, trying to prove their worth in a society that fears or rejects them. this inner conflict could be the spark for a much larger plot, like starting a rebellion or becoming the key to resolving a long-standing feud between species. their personal journey, then, could naturally tie into the broader conflict of your story.

the key here is to use the uniqueness of your character's background and situation to fuel the plot. how they navigate the world around them can lead to choices and events that shape the entire story!

♡ external threats

sometimes the easiest way to spark an overarching plot is by introducing a big external threat. it could be anything from an invading empire, a natural disaster, or even a rising rebellion. something that shakes up the world your characters are comfortable in and forces them into action. this external conflict can intersect with their personal journeys and create some interesting tension.

♡ combining personal and world stakes

the most gripping plots often combine both personal and external stakes. maybe your character is fighting for their home or family, but there’s a much larger political or magical conflict brewing that they become a part of. it’s not just about saving themselves, but the entire kingdom or world. the trick is to make sure the personal stakes are always tied into the larger conflict, so it feels cohesive.

♡ take inspiration from your fav fantasy works

don’t be afraid to pull ideas from the things you love! if a specific scene, mission, or plotline really stuck with you in a book, game or movie, ask yourself why. for example, when i came up with my fantasy plot, i was inspired by a mission in the witcher 3 where geralt and triss are navigating the tunnels under novigrad. triss, living in secret as a mage, is forced to use these hidden passageways to carry out her plans. i remember thinking, “hmm… tunnels or catacombs are a great way for people with secret missions to carry out said missions!” that one detail sparked an entire subplot for me, where certain characters use an underground network to secretly move around, gather intel, and plot revolutions.

you can take bits and pieces from your favorite stories and use them as springboards for your own original ideas. sometimes it’s a specific setting, a character dynamic, or even the vibe of a scene that can get your creative wheels turning. the key is to make it your own and let it evolve naturally in your world!

i hope these ideas don't sound too "obvious" or like "well, duh," but rather a reminder that you've already done the worldbuilding, so use it!!

good luck with your epic fantasy!! sending digital hugs filled with all the creative energy i have left today to you and anyone else reading this (´｡• ᵕ •｡`)

[no-droids]

Home

gif credit: @javier-pena

Part Eighteen of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 19.5K

Warnings: SMUT, religion kink (maybe?), squirting, consensual stalking/pursuing, canon-typical violence, mention of underage drinking, uhh I believe that’s it but as always, let me know if I’ve forgotten anything please!

A/N: Hey yall!!!  So I know this chapter has been a long time coming and though I’m not completely satisfied with it, I hope it brings a little happiness to you for an hour or two while you read!  School has been kicking my ass and I’ve been in a bit of an emotional slump recently, but I pulled a few all-nighters to post this on time and it’s finally finished!  Thank you to everyone who has stuck with me and sent me encouraging words over the past month or so, I hope you enjoy the end of the Sanctuary arc💕

Also like last time, part 2 of my collaboration with @followwhereshegoes will be posted after the chapter!!  As a reminder, sweet girl is a reader insert and every imagining of her will be different—this is Lisa’s interpretation of her and her artwork is absolutely gorgeous, so please go give her a follow!

Day 5–11:13am:

You zone out again in the early morning, but that happens a lot.  Din always keeps you up so late, all the time, and without any caf here, the rising sun just makes your eyes droop instead of flutter brighter and wider.  You helped a bunch of younglings find their way into their robes when it was still dark out, tying sashes and fitting masks while holding back your yawns.  The walk into Nariss is close to three hours, probably more with all these tiny little legs, and you almost forget to change into your new digs before everyone grabs breakfast.

Even though your ragtag entourage leaves for Nariss just as soon as everyone finishes eating, you don’t reach the city until nearly lunchtime.  Mostly because the kids walk about as fast as the elderly holy women chaperoning the trip.  You and Naydee lag behind the group, forcing yourself to meander slow as fuck when you nearly sprinted this same exact path just a few days ago.  On the way there, you listen to children of all sorts sing happily as they walk, chatter about their excitement for the parade, complain about wearing the fabric mask they made themselves, and more than once, somebody takes a tumble onto the ground and is left in teary sniffles and dirt stained clothes.  Likely for this reason, the robes are designed to be two pieces—a long tunic with a hood and a separate pants portion to prevent tripping instead of a draping skirt, but the smallest ones are clumsy and find a way to fall anyways.

It’s a colorful bunch—a chaotic rainbow of babies running around, and you share easy conversation with your new friend about the plans for the day until she asks something that makes you nearly trip and join the dirty robe club.

“Sister Drya said your family is meeting you in the city,” she tells you, ignoring your immediate subtle toe stub and the awkward shuffle you have to do to make up for it.  “There’s going to be lots of people downtown, I’m worried it might be hard for them to find you.”

Your heart thuds in your chest and you feel a bit short of breath at being abruptly confronted with the need to lie, but at the same time, you kind of love it.  Having a secret, hiding the truth from others, and just the reminder that you’re almost guaranteed to see Din and the baby before midnight pours warmth and tingles through your tummy.  Everything together is a hit of spice, filling you with a kind of excitement that used to be foreign to you.  Having fun, experiencing new things isn’t quite over yet, but home is calling and you miss it with every fiber of your being.

“I don’t think so,” you eventually respond, hoping she can see your kind smile and the sentiment it carries even as light, shimmery fabric wraps right around your mouth.  “If I disappear, you’ll know why.”

Naydee’s eyes crinkle in the corners to match yours.  “Hopefully you’ll be able to see the fireworks first,” she nudges you, her skin glowing against the pale cream fabric she has wrapped around her own mouth and the hood laying delicately over her braids.  “They start at eight.”

The fireworks, you almost forgot.  You know what?  Today is a good day.  You hear yourself think the full sentence multiple times, and the words put a spring in your step after every single one.  The road gradually becomes wider and filled with more travelers, and you feel safe in the back.  Like some kind of sheepdog bringing up the rear of this migrating cluster of children, making sure none of them drift off by themselves and start eating grass or something.

Surprisingly, the kids manage to be relatively patient and well-behaved once they’re in line at the gates.  The Sisters shuffle them along one by one as everyone moves up slowly, taking even longer to get into the city than it did a few days ago.  The entrance is packed already—so many people visiting for the festival, and they��re all dressed in costumes or robes of sorts, or at least a mask.  Most are beautifully crafted, but some manage to look slightly scary even with the soft springtime color schemes.  It’s a completely different world, a different life for each person as you pass them by.  Your stomach is starting to growl by the time you finally make it to the front, and luckily the guards just let the kids through without any ceremony.  Just you and the rest of the caretakers in light robes need to hold still for the retinal scan, matching each other perfectly except for differing shades of fabric, skin, and eye color.  Once the gates open for you and you step through, though… it’s… Maker.

Extravagant, magnificent are both words.  Floral is another.

It’s like they hung up bouquets wherever they could think to fit them, and this is just the edge of the city.  As the group moves through the streets and closer to downtown, it becomes more and more overwhelming.  The air itself is a warm fragrance wafting all around you, sunshiney and breezy and perfect, flowers of all kinds lining the modern buildings and archways like they were planted there from the very beginning and it just took this long to bloom between the cracks in the concrete.  You wish you had names for all of them so you could list them—the only thing you can offer is the color and vague descriptions of the ones that stick out to you.  Tiny yellow ones that are so small, they need to be bunched all together in massive quantities to even resemble normal flowers.  Up overhead, elaborate arrangements of enormous blue and purple and pink ones, wrapping around each other and hanging down from rooftops.  Some don’t even have petals, it’s like they’re big green cups that are big enough to hold things inside them.  You’re fascinated by every single one, wanting to stop and smell them all individually but needing to keep up with the large group and not allow any stragglers to be left behind, including yourself.

About an hour later, when you’re almost in the middle of the city and there are people everywhere, it’s time to eat lunch.  There isn’t much to it because of how expensive it is, and you’d normally feel bad for accepting the small meal each one of the children gets, but you donated all of your credits to the Keja and left absolutely zero for yourself.  Good intentions, terrible idea.  Still, you pull your mask down and snack on some deliciously fried food, trying not to eye anyone else’s platter after you finish yours.  It’s so good and it’s gone in an instant; you couldn’t even say what exactly it was besides which stall you got it at.  Whether it’s just the brilliant atmosphere or if the food on this moon is really just that good, you’re not really sure, but you’re still slightly hungry afterwards with no extra money to sneak a snack.

Soon after, the kids all line up to get their faces painted, or whatever portion of their face is visible behind the cloth masks and hoods they’ve got on, and music blares from at least four different directions and none of the songs are even in the same language.  Depending on the part of town, it seems like the celebrations are all different.  It makes sense, considering most if not all of these individuals were victims of the Empire’s wrath, spread far and wide across the galaxy.  Here, they’re free, and they want everyone to know it.  Spring festivals of some sort are likely common for most cultures, at least those from planets with seasons, not like Arvala-7 where it was arid and hot year-round, and you’re assuming there are multiple things being celebrated today depending on which street you live on.  There’s chanting in different tongues, dancing and drums, outfits and masks from different cultures every single time you look.

At some point, the children spot a crowded street with flowery rails set up all along them, and you stand behind the tiny heads while everyone waits for the parade to begin.  You think your heart has just been beating slightly faster than normal all day today, but when you finally hear the sound of sirens blaring in the distance and cheers begin to pour out from the gathered crowd, it kicks up and you feel like you’re just as wide eyed at the spectacle as the waist-high babies all huddled together up against the railing.

A flurry of people and things pass in slow succession.  First, New Republic officers with their blaring holobikes, bright orange as always.  Then come large groups of people walking behind banners in languages you can’t read, some of them waving, some of them making different sounds and songs.  Bands marching in formation, dancers in dresses and masks and gorgeous flowers in their hair like crowns, and then brilliant hovering vehicles decorated in bright colors and festive depictions.  The craftsmanship and cultural significance is stunning to witness, it’s so insanely loud, there’s so much going on, and yet…

Through it all, you think of Din.  No matter the faces, the sights you see.  There’s someone juggling.  There’s either a very tall man and woman walking together or they’re both on stilts.  There are enormous balloons being led through the air, people are riding atop an assortment of animals you’ve never seen before, there are traditional costumes and spectacular stunts being performed.  Stalls with games and prizes line the stretches of concrete on the cross streets, people are laughing and celebrating and drinking in equal parts, everything is so lively and festive and fun, and yet, though it all, you think of Din.  Him and the baby, they’re always in the forefront of your mind, occupying your thoughts and making your tummy stir more and more as the time passes like the parade in front of you.  You don’t think this environment would ever be his favorite, and in some far away galaxy, perhaps if you lived other lives together and called a beautiful moon exactly like this home, then you might have to drag him out to see all the with you and the kid every year.  You’d have to bat your eyelashes and kiss his cheek and snuggle up to him all nice and pretty like, and he’d probably grumble and complain about it while wrapping his arms around you—all the people and the noise, sweet girl—but he’d go.  For you, he’d go.

Your thoughts suddenly stop short and you blink for a second.  Why… Why was that scene so vivid?  So wistful?  You used to preoccupy yourself with fantasies about Din all the time, back before you even knew him as Din.  But in every single one, it was sexual and likely came from a place of boredom, a lack of external stimulation.  Here you are amidst bustling surroundings, and you’re daydreaming about domesticity with him.  Why?  You want to travel the galaxy, right?  You want to see things you’ve never seen before, right?

For some reason, you think of the floor, and you miss it.

***

Day 5—5:04pm:

It’s late afternoon at this point and nobody can find the teens.

More people have made their way into the city and it’s starting to get extremely fucking crowded, especially where you are downtown, and the handful of them must’ve slipped away with all the excitement happening and how difficult it is to keep the young ones together now that the parade is over.  You don’t know how long they’ve been gone—one second they were walking around just slightly detached from the rest of you, you assumed because the boisterous younglings fucked with their cool vibe, and then the next Naydee is gasping out to you that they’re gone.

“Sister Drya is going to kill me,” she hisses, her dark eyebrows furrowed in self-admonishment and stress.  So many fucking people here, you know her pain.  “I was supposed to be chaperoning them, they were just here—”

She shakes her head under the loose, cream-colored hood, groaning and then speeding up her gait to catch up with the woman in charge, but you decide to grab her wrist before she can relay the bad news.  

“I can go find them,” you offer, speaking as low as you can with the blaring noise surrounding you.  “Before anyone knows they’re missing.  Is there a way to convince everybody to stay in one spot for a little while?  You won’t get in trouble, but I need to know how to find you again.”

Naydee’s eyes widen in surprise, and even though it’s likely a bit out of character for you, you have a feeling it’ll be a deceptively easy task.  Even with the masses right now and how atrociously big this city is, you already have a general idea of where they’re likely to be.  Besides, you’re not even sure your absence will be noticed if Naydee is the only one who figured out the teens were gone—the other Sisters can thrive without you while missing anyone else would be noticeable, and you owe your new friend a thousand favors for helping you out these past few days.  The least you can do is save her from the scolding of one of the scariest old ladies you've ever met.

“Be as quick as you can,” she finally agrees.  It’s a lot of trust to put into you, but you’ve had experience in reading the most unreadable man in the entire galaxy, some teenagers shouldn’t pose too much of a problem.  “If you’re not back in thirty minutes or somebody notices, I’ll have to say something.”

You nod, silently breaking away from the group without another word.  You think you can hear her announce to everyone that it might be best to eat dinner now to skip any long lines later—smart—but you’re out of their hearing range and line of sight almost immediately.

***

Day 5–5:17pm:

“Really?”  You raise an eyebrow since they won’t be able to see the way your mouth is twisted up underneath your mask, crossing your arms and tapping your foot against the ground to further illustrate just how not fucking impressed you are.

Seven teenagers freeze, and slowly—depending on how much bravery they can individually muster—they turn around on their stools to face you.  The atmosphere in the tavern is bustling and cheery, booze being passed around a large crowd that laughs and mingles, but your vibe is stone cold and quiet.  The contrast doesn’t feel wrong on you like it normally would; the negative and disapproving energy you’re emitting makes you feel powerful, untouchable, armored and strong.

“How did you find us so fast?”  One of the twin boys squeaks out behind a light blue robe, sounding worried.

“Had a hunch,” you grumble, glaring sternly at each of them in turn.  Your tone is dry, your voice sits lower in your throat when you’re pissed off.  All you had to do was look for the closest bar that doesn’t have any orange jumpsuits poking around waiting to card underage younglings, it wasn’t that difficult.  “You’re not exactly unpredictable.”

“Are you gonna rat us out?”  The other twin asks you, in a voice that’s oddly deep compared to his brother.

“I should,” you snap, quickly reaching out to push their drinks away.  “I should let Sister Drya rain down her holy fury on your asses, got good people all twisted up over you for nothing and I’m missing dinn—”

You don’t know why, but you suddenly cut yourself off and jerk upright, spinning around.

The sounds of glasses clinking and boisterous voices fill the bar, but they seem to fade out for a second.  Your eyes fly around the crowded space, your heart lodged in your throat and looking for anything reflective.  Every flash you see is a false alarm—belt buckle, wristwatch, cocktail shaker—

He’s here… isn’t he?

Only, there’s nothing.  Nothing is out of place, nothing jumps out at you the way you’re assuming it will.  You’re braced taut and ready to bolt at the first sign of a chase, but it never comes.

It’s so… unexpected, this feeling.  It’s not like you’re being hunted anymore, but instead, you’re the hunter.  You’re feeling the weight of him from this far away and it’s like he’s calling for you to come find him, teasing the wild adrenaline rush you get from just feeling his presence, as if he absolutely knows it happens.  Whispering soft in your ear and then vanishing the second you’re able to turn around, like he’s here but he’s not.  Playing with you from so far away.

This… this is a taunt.  

The whole thing at the inn was leagues below this, that was rudimentary.  Teasing, getting even, having fun with each other, whatever you want to call that, that’s what it was.  This is scarily sophisticated.  Fluid and practiced and the best kind of frightening, stark and dangerous compared to the carefree and upbeat setting surrounding you.  You’re not making it up, it’s not just you being paranoid.  You know him with your eyes closed.  You know he’s here somewhere watching you, just like you know the starlight that streaks across the pitch black horizon of hyperspace.  Not because you can see it, not really, not directly.  But because by it, even in the vastest and darkest and emptiest of voids, you’re suddenly able to see everything else.

“You okay, Nerida?”

The volume gradually comes back up and you blink, suddenly remembering where you are, who else is with you.  The chatter becomes slightly louder than it seemed before.

“Yeah,” you eventually say, slightly airy while continuing to stare emptily at the crowded room.  He’s not here, you don’t think, not anymore at least.  But you’re not stupid, you know what this means.  You’re already caught, there’s nothing you can conceivably do that will delay the reunion for the next—you look down and pull the loose sleeve up to check your communicator—seven fucking hours, there’s no way.  He’ll pull back and follow you, keep up with you from a distance and then snatch you away right when you let your guard down.  You at least need to get the kids back to their guardians before that can happen, though.

“Let’s go,” you quietly tell the group of foundlings, grabbing elbows and hauling them out of their stools.  “Naydee was the only one who knew that you were gone when I left.  Here’s to hoping she managed to keep it that way.”

***

Day 5–5:32pm:

Against all odds, you’re able to rally the wayward teens and successfully lead them through shoulders that are beginning to move closer together as the crowd grows and grows.  You stay towards the back and don’t look behind you once—not only do you not want to give the younglings an unnecessary reason to become paranoid or to question your actions, but you can still feel Din lingering.  Moving like a shadow, probably fitting in perfectly with the masked festival-goers, nothing drawing any attention to him with all the spectacular sights and noise occurring.

Soon you return to the same spot from before, and you and the teenagers seamlessly integrate yourselves back into the rest of the group without anyone noticing a thing is out of place.  When you move to stand beside her, Naydee’s bone-deep sigh of relief is palpable even behind the concealing fabric; she squeezes your hand incredibly tight in a silent gesture of thanks, and then pulls something from the deep pockets of her robe and passes it to you sneakily.  A purple fruit.  She must’ve saved it for you.

Maker, fuck yes.  It’s not much but it’s more dinner than any of the seven troublemakers get, but Naydee quietly assures you they’ll be able to eat something once they return to the Keja around midnight, just not the tasty expensive treats they’re selling at the vendors.  As the sun goes down, you try not to stain your pretty fabric a deep maroon as you chomp and feel your lips start to curl upwards.  It sounds so fucking stupid when you put it like this, but you keep going back to Din and revelling in knowing that he’s so close, like you’re just mentally checking in on him.  You don’t get the sensation by thinking, though—more like you just focus really hard on your heart and feel him there just a second afterwards.

Is that how pure, stupid, shameless love feels when you’re completely entrenched in it?  It’s not like it’s surrounding you, it’s not suffocating you or making you float.  It’s just a thing.  Like… a thing inside your chest, a physical thing you can search for and find, something you can point to on your body and say it’s right here, this is where my love for him lives.  Right at the bottom of your heart, right where it curves and beats strong when other hearts meet flat at sharp angles.  You do it over and over again, reconfirming its existence every single time.  You don’t know what else you’d call it.  Love is the only word.  To love, to know.  To hold in the heart.

Soon, you start to notice that people are slowly moving around your stationary group.  You look up and watch the crowd begin to walk, some of them giving soft smiles to the cute children as they pass by, but all of them following the same unspoken direction.

“Where is everyone going?”  You ask Naydee, standing on your tiptoes to watch the crowd migrate like a giant system, an organism or mechanism of thousands (or tens of thousands?) of smaller moving parts all traveling in tandem.  It’s fascinating—you’ve been to crowded places, you know what it looks like when a lot of people are packed into one area, but you’ve never seen what it looks like when they all move together.  They would normally be bumping into each other, slipping in between, fighting and never really getting anywhere, interacting individually and thinking separately.  Now they’re progressing in one single direction, so many with the same mindset and understanding of what comes next.  A second parade, almost, with New Republic officers directing the flow of pedestrians as they pass.

“The eastern part of the city!”  Naydee yells over the noise and points, and beyond her extended finger, you can barely see the light of a dusky body of water in the distance beyond the buildings.  “The fireworks are going to go off over the bay, but it takes awhile to get there!”

“Is…”  You blink for a second, suddenly caught off guard, trying to think back to the holomap the concierge pulled up at the front desk of the inn.  Surely you would’ve noticed it, but your sudden childlike hope makes you ask anyway.  “Is it part of an ocean?”

Naydee shakes her head.  “A really big lake!”

Your shoulders drop just the slightest bit in disappointment but still, you ache to see it.  You can’t even imagine—the fireworks are likely going to reflect across the water, giving everyone double the view.  And luckily, after all the children and caretakers are individually accounted for, you start to behind the slow-moving crowd towards the docks you know lie beyond.  

Naydee scurries ahead to keep the kids together, ushering them forward and preventing any drunk passer-bys from accidentally stepping on them, and you quietly bring up the very rear of the entourage.  You take the time to observe more than anything, walk in the back and experience instead of trailblaze.  So many people, so many stories to be told, so many differences and diversity around you.  Your face is partially concealed and you don’t move your head too much, just your eyes.  They flick around to take in everything, the crowd thinning little by little as you make it out of the confined space downtown.  You’re able to make out full bodies and outfits again instead of just heads and shoulders, allowing you to breathe just a bit easier under your mask.

And then at one point—and it’s almost a little startling because it happens all at once—the organizers must decide that the sun has officially gone down, because the lights come on.  All of a sudden, paper lanterns and bulbs flicker into existence all around you and the world decides it wants to glow, glint and twinkle from the inside out.  They’re everywhere, draping across rooftops and tangled around street signs and stuffed into the flower bouquets overhead, raining soft colors down on everything.  You’re in complete awe, trying to keep walking but also needing to look at as much as fucking possible in the suddenly luminescent city.  It’s so colorful, so vernal and warm and you feel like you’re… Like when you took a shower on the Crest for the first time and spent a few happy moments just playing with the water and soap for your own enjoyment, it’s as if all the brilliant rainbow of colors the bubbles would make under the fluorescent light decided to surround you at the same time.  You’re inside stained glass, blinking at the flowers and wondering if Din can even smell the air or if it’s filtered, processed and reduced to nothing under the helmet.

And that’s when you see him.

But with the way your chest rapidly constricts and you can count your heart beats as they pound, blaring white noise through your ears and adrenaline through your veins, it’s like he's just allowing it to happen.  You immediately understand that you don’t have fucking anything the second your eyes land on him; this isn’t a heads up that you caught wind of early, it’s not a gift or an advantage you’ve incidentally gained over him that you should be thankful for.  Being able to see him directly like this, being able to make out all these fucking details from this far away…  This just feels like you’re being informed of the endgame right before it comes.  If you were anyone else, if you were a real bounty and this was a real hunt, his armor glinting and reflecting the lanterns overhead would feel like a knife you're about to be on the wrong side of.

You have a decision to make, very quickly.  Either keep in this same direction, head straight towards him and just pretend like you are who you’re dressed as, a random caretaker for a bunch of rowdy foundlings during a spring festival on Nariss, or disappear.  Drop back, move through the crowd and use the distance you have between you right now as your only hope of getting away in time.  Neither one gives you a particular advantage—your chances of being caught have already skyrocketed exponentially just being able to see the reflection in his armor, the hovering shield at his side with big black eyes… staring directly at you.

You almost trip over your pantlegs, gasping.  Baby.  He beams at you and you think he calls out through the passing crowd, his tiny arms extending out, and your chest feels like you’re pulling organs as if they were muscles, cramping up and seizing with emotion.  You want to run to them even though you’re meant to be running from them, call out over the noise and wave even though you’re not supposed to.  You want to hold the kid again, squish his little forehead with kisses, walk around with Din’s hand pressed against your lower back and see the fireworks with him.

Your hands clutch at the draping fabric covering your chest, pulling and twisting it uncertainly.  What do you do, what do you do?

No matter what, you know it’s over.  Keep your head down and try to move past him, or break away from your group and try to escape—both are different paths that lead to the same result.  What’s the point of running when he’s the one chasing you?  The heart-pounding thrill is the only reason you’re even considering it, but his body stands so tall amongst the crowd, not moving while people ebb and flow like a river passing around him.

Except then you can hear his voice repeat the last thing he said to you in person as if he says it directly into the comm in your ear.  When you do see me… try to outrun.

You should run—run, it’s better than just hoping he doesn’t see you when you already know he does.

Unless…

Out of a trillion different possibilities, you soon realize that there is exactly one situation in which this could turn out in your favor.  You can immediately picture the scenario in your mind, but there’s just too many variables to conceivably rely on getting them all right.  This maybe has a… two percent chance of working?  Maybe?  Everything would have to go perfectly, just fucking flawlessly, but what other choice do you have?  Two percent is better than whatever odds you’re dealing with now.

You walk silently behind the group of foundlings as you approach closer and closer, keeping your head purposefully down as they skip and giggle and dance ahead.  He knows you’re here—he has to know, you’re counting on him knowing.  Walk right in front of him, pretend like you don’t see, make sure you keep left.  Keep left, keep left, keep your head down, keep your head down—

A leather glove suddenly catches hold of your wrist hard enough to tug you backwards.

Your gasp is audible over the sound of the crowd and you spin around, jerking your head up to look at him in fear.  Your heart slams as the beskar reflects your mask and hood back at you—you’re terrified and it shows, you can see it in your eyes.

You quickly try to yank your hand away, even as your index finger stretches up towards the communicator around his wrist.

“Miss Nerida?”  A child’s voice cries, and then small hands grab at you from behind as you bury the urge to actually fight him.  Your instincts are demanding you attack when his grip is this strong, but you just whine and struggle, slapping weakly at him with your free hand and feeling more of the younglings begin to pull at you, their high pitched voices calling more and more attention to the scene.

Your gaze flicks to the side, suddenly landing on a pair of New Republic officers helping direct the thousands of moving bodies from the closest street corner.  They’re looking at you, pointing and beginning to speak into their own comm units.  Din’s helmet snaps sideways to follow your gaze, and then he’s immediately dropping your wrist and stepping back, retreating as quickly as he caught you.  Though you don’t want to—though you don’t want to give yourself away even more, you want to pretend fully that he was a complete stranger and the children were right to try to help you get away—your eyes fall to your son in the hovering crib by his side and you feel yourself crumble just a bit.

Just a few more hours, kid.  A few more hours.

Children pull you away while your pursuers both disappear into the crowd, and you quickly turn to soothe the tiny babies instead of chasing after the one you miss so terribly.

“I’m alright,” you tell them, scooting them up and encouraging them to continue walking.  Blend in, blend in, don’t let anybody think anything is wrong.  “Come on, we’re fine, come on, we have to catch up.”

They take your lead as soon as one of the caretakers turns around and sees the small group crowding around you.  You think she asks what happened, but you just tell her a man mistook you for someone else and nothing more comes of it.  She’s able to settle the chaos better than you are, and by the time you’re continuing to travel forwards once more like nothing happened, the communicator suddenly flicks on in your ear.

“What did you do?”  He breathes out, his footsteps moving fast through his voice.  He’s traveling much quicker than you expected—is he still being followed?  The officers are gone from your sight, they might be going after him right now, weaving between bodies and calling out to the perpetually vanishing glint of armor as he navigates his way out of danger.

You look down at the comm on your wrist and your heart nearly soars with victory.  It worked.  It worked.  You just have to outlast a bit longer, don’t draw any extra attention to it—he’s preoccupied and he certainly doesn’t sound happy, but you hope that’ll be enough to make him slip.  Use his frustration to your advantage, let him think the only thing you were successful at was momentarily escaping him.

“The cops weren’t part of the plan,” you admit quietly, keeping your head down as your loose hood billows in the twilight breeze.  “Don’t get caught.”

There’s a few moments of just his breathing, his footsteps, and the noise floor humming through the comm, before he finally responds.  “You look beautiful.”

You stare unseeingly down at the concrete under your feet, still feeling your hand tingle from where he caught you.  The line abruptly mutes on his end and you just keep moving forward, onward, wanting to look back but knowing he’s already long gone.

***

Day 5–5:24pm:

Din is fucking furious.

He had you.  You were right there, right in front of him, and even if he hadn’t been subtly trailing you all day, seeing the red footsteps get covered and flicker out of existence just a few moments after you make them, he would’ve recognized you anywhere.  In black and white, in the fading light, with your face covered, children calling you by a different name and attaching themselves to you like they’ve known you forever—doesn’t matter, he would’ve known you.  Your eyes have always given you away, always so expressive and starry and soft, but able to see right through solid steel whenever you look at him.

But then you slipped from his grasp, and then more guards pushed him further and further away from you.  They must all be in constant communication, because every single jumpsuit he sees immediately spots him and starts following.  It’s fucking exhausting, and he thinks of you the whole time.

He waits in a dark alley with the kid and taps the side of the helmet a few times to bring up the time on his comm, but then relaxes just slightly when he sees the hour.  It’s earlier than he thought it was, he’ll be able to find you again.

Though, something tugs at him while he’s looking at the clock ticking away in front of his eyes, counting down each second that passes.  There was… a moment.  Back in the square, when he was holding onto you again, when you were looking directly into his once more—everything in his helmet— 

No, he shakes his head while the kid looks up at him curiously, it can’t be.  It was just a split second, it was gone so fast.

But he can’t get rid of it.  Though there’s no explanation, he thinks the display screen flickered.  The sky behind you looked different for a single frame, your footsteps weren’t bright red and visible anymore, your eyes weren’t grey and he stopped wondering what shade of fabric you and your friend decided to choose for you to wear.  It was silvery, he’s almost certain.  Like his armor, it only reflected the color of everything around it.

Color.  Everywhere.  Bursting for a blink of an eye, and then gone just as quick, before he could actually figure out what it really meant.

***

Day 5–6:59pm:

This water is quiet here, but it sparkles.

It doesn’t ever really get truly dark thanks to the enormous hanging moon and ringed gas giant dancing with Sanctuary II, constantly reflecting light back onto the surface and reacting with some of the trace chemicals up above the atmosphere, and you think the sky just might be the prettiest you’ve ever seen it.  Must have something to do with the equinox, the glimmering angles of light being played with by celestial bodies in this stunning system, but it’s a dream.  The Maker apparently couldn’t decide which colors he wanted tonight so he just splashed all of them together all at once, let them run and blend like ink in the gentle water below, like the various people who call this moon home.

That view in front of you, coupled with all the flowers and lanterns lining the streets behind you, and you’ve lost track of time the exact same way you hoped Din would.  You think you’ve stood for about an hour or so in this one spot, half-listening to excited chatter from the babies, mostly just gazing across the stretch of water and being able to just barely spot the docks in the distance, but it feels like it’s only been minutes.

You check your watch—the fireworks should be starting any second now.  You don’t know what to expect, just that in your experience, explosions tend to be loud.  You've decided you’re not going to plug your ears, though.  Tummy twisting with nerves and another inexplicable feeling you can’t quite put your finger on, you resolve to experience the unknown exactly the way it’s meant to be.  Fully, without worry or fear.

Then, lacking any warning or ceremony whatsoever, a single flare launches silent and high from one of the small boats skimming the bay, and the crowd seems to hold its collective breath as the dim light disappears into thin air for a split second, before—

It’s… quite possibly the most dazzling thing you think you’ve ever seen.  So shamelessly decorative just for the sake of it, not serving any other practical purpose besides celebration and visual spectacle, and you’ll probably never know another extravagance like it.  You grew up with dust pelting against tired eyes, you never thought they’d get to reflect such gorgeous bursts of color back up at the sky, glassy and childlike amongst a group of equally wide-eyed children.

As expected, a deafening boom follows closely behind the singular display, but just witnessing it is incredible enough to make you forget to brace yourself for the sound and you jump almost violently in response.  There comes a loud cheer from the people standing around you, a few delighted gasps and children who decide now is the best time to start crying, but then more flares begin to launch from the boats and the subsequent show will sear itself into your memory to replay over and over again.

Still, you think the endless sky and dark water below would have to light on fire to stop him from coming to mind.

Din.

You click the comm on, continuing to stare in stunned awe but wanting nothing more than to hear his voice right now, feel his hand rest on your lower back and the kid’s three fingers squeezing one of yours while the stars rain down from above.  You’re only continuing to run from him because it’s expected of you, that’s the reason you’re here, but it’s becoming harder and harder to argue with yourself.  “Do you always see in black and white?”

It takes him just a few seconds to respond, but he always does.  “Only when I’m tracking someone.”

The loud booms can be heard over the earpiece, happening maybe a second after they crack and sparkle above you.  You can’t tell if the latency is due to the electronics or if he’s just that far away from the source of the sound itself, but… you don’t think he is.  He feels close again, like he could just walk up right next to you any second, or maybe that’s just how he always feels now.

“Does that mean you haven’t seen the sky here?”  You ask after a moment.  This whole time, everything has been grey for him?

“I saw it,” Din murmurs, and even though it’s quiet and explosions are thundering loud enough to deafen more sensitive ears, his quiet voice somehow breaks through it all.  “When you left the Crest, I saw it behind you.”

For some reason, you suddenly feel like crying.  Whether it’s the way he phrases it or the sentiment in the words, you’re close to tears without even knowing why, looking up at the sky illuminating spectacularly.  He says it like he wasn’t the one who parked on this moon and told you to go on without him.  “Can you… turn it off for just a second?”

He takes a second, before clarifying for you.  “I turn it off and I lose your footprints.”

So that was the ultimatum.  He doesn’t want to turn it off until you’re back with him again.  Does he not understand?  Does he not know what you know?  Maybe you just happened to feel it first, this overwhelming physical sensation inside you whenever you think about him.  It’s like the exact opposite of a hole in your chest.  And it’s so odd, so counterintuitive.  Being comforted in his absence, feeling him with you when he isn’t.  Falling in love in the dark, knowing him without ever seeing him.

“You never needed them,” you say, reaching up to pull your mask down under your jaw and chin for a moment, wanting to freely breathe the freshwater and flowers while stars explode and fracture across the sky.  It’s a truth you’re acknowledging, something you’ll carry with you, something you fundamentally own at this point.  “You’d find me without the helmet.  And I’d find you.”

The fireworks continue to bleed into the water beneath them, multicolor splashes rippling into existence and disappearing just as quick.  You could’ve never imagined a more colorful, magnificent landscape—besides your waterfall on Naboo, of course.  That was a pure product of nature though, a place hidden away and untouched by people, completely sacred.  Light refracting against mist, natural glass that would shatter under your weight.  This is a celebration of life and family.  Loud in a different way, affecting you in a different way, but just as wonderful and touching.  A cultivated paradise, designed to be beautiful and safe only because they wanted it to be.

“Think so?”  He asks softly.  He sounds so deep and warm, but… a little distant.  You’re able to hear it in his words.  You don’t know why, though.  Doesn’t he believe you?  Perhaps… perhaps this isn’t The Way.  Perhaps this is part of a completely different oath, one where knowing and loving somebody isn’t the same thing as looking at their face, not at all.  Where you can have them exist entirely separate from each other, because this is love.  This is real, enduring, bone-deep love, and you haven’t ever seen his face, so how would he explain that?  How would the Mandalorians reconcile that?  You bear the mark of the mudhorn, you’ve moved through time and space with him, you’re a mother to his son, and you’ve never seen his face.  It defies both the Mandalorian oath and traditional understandings of love, or it meets them right in the middle, depending on how you look at it.

“I know so.”  For the first time, you think you might sound more confident and certain than he does.  Maybe he doesn’t fully get it yet, but then you suppose he’ll just have to trust you.  “Will you look at the sky?”

“I see it,” Din tells you, but you know he doesn’t.  Not the way you want him to.  And stars, you just want so many things for him, don’t you?  The sky, fresh air, water, light, food, rest.  You want him to see the galaxy the way you do—have a new appreciation for the gifts that are given just because you’re alive to experience them.  All the physics and mathematics aligned perfectly for it to happen—all the chemistry, the systems, the dynamics that dictate the universe, they all got together and crafted a world where you, him, and the kid all exist together at the same time.  You want him to know the significance of that.

“With color?”  You ask, knowing his answer before he seems to.

“I…”  Din wants to argue, or at least say it again.  He can’t or he’ll lose you, he already told you he doesn’t want to turn the setting off.  It’s such an unnecessary conflict, but you want to respect it so much that you’re willing to give up things of your own to make it happen.

“How do I fix it then?”  You whisper, so desperately wanting this one thing for him, this one grandeur to behold.  How do you fix this problem?  How do you convince him to look with you?  You’d offer to just go and find him instead of continuing to run away for the next few hours, but you know the show will be over soon and you don’t have much time left.  “Do you want me to come look for you?  It’ll be too late by then, you’re too far away.  Look at the sky.”

It’s silent for a moment—truly silent, even though colorful bombs are going off above the bay.  You don’t know why you’ve attached yourself to this so strongly, but it’s almost devastating when you don’t get a response.  You look away from the spectacle for the first time in an eternity, gazing unseeingly into the crowd of onlookers with a sudden sadness taking hold of you.  He won’t look, he’s too stubborn, he holds onto things too tightly.

But then, a flurry of flares start launching in rapid succession from the distant boats, screaming and crying on their way up and then igniting into showers of light, and the abrupt increase in activity manages to catch your attention once again.  This must be the end, they saved the best for last.  Every corner of the horizon flashes and sparks, and you’re mesmerized at how bright it is, how many colors they’ve managed to fit into one single frame.

“It’s beautiful,” comes his voice, and the smile that you break into feels just right for the brilliance of the view above you.  Maker, it is, isn’t it?  Now you can hear it—he sounds like he’s looking at it too, with color, in all its breathtaking glory, and you feel like you’re flying.  Like he picked you up and let you watch up close, like you can feel his armor under your fingers right now as he carries you through the sky.

It swells up inside you, a rising wave similar to the ones you can see in the distance, and you know you probably shouldn’t say it because it’s not in your best interest to say it right now, but you have to say it anyways.  It’s an unknowable compulsion, a need to connect and communicate directly with him but for your sake, not presently, not at this exact moment in time.

Luckily, you mute your comm just in time and simply give the words to him from very far away.

“Hurry up,” you say, sending the sentiment into the sky with all your love, and the conflicting hope that he won’t take the advice until a bit later on.  “Come and find me.”

***

Day 5–7:37pm:

After the fireworks are over, people start to drift off in separate directions, clearing the traffic and congestion from the streets around you.  Someone puts their hand on your shoulder and you blink a few times, spinning around and almost stepping on a bunch of tiny little feet by accident.

Stars, that’s a lot of children.  They’re all crowded around Naydee, who pats a few heads and almost buckles under the younglings clinging to her leg.

“Figured you would be long gone by now,” she grins at you from behind her mask, and you’re reminded to pull yours up over your face just from looking at her.  “It’s late—we’re going back to the Keja.”

“Oh, shit,” you breathe in surprise, but the noise of the gradually dispersing crowd manages to cover it up.  At least from younger, more easily distracted ears, but you think Naydee hears you.  Her dark eyes roll good-naturedly, looking happy but exhausted from the long day.  You’re going to have to say goodbye now.

“What happened to your family?”  She asks after a moment, and you think she’s being careful with the way she says it, likely because family is a difficult topic to navigate in general around some of the children hanging on her and begging for her attention.  “Have you been in touch with them?  If not, I’m sure you can come back with us.  It’ll be late by the time we get there, but at least you’ll be safe.”

You open your mouth to automatically decline her offer, knowing Din is still in the crowded city looking for you and wanting to stay where there’s lots of people.

But then… well, he would expect you to do that, wouldn’t he?

There’s more people here.  More danger, but better places to hide.  It’s the obvious choice, it’s the one that makes the most logical sense.  But you’d also be completely alone and you’re assuming the only reason he hasn’t snatched you up yet—which you know he could’ve done multiple times by now, is likely because you’re with a group of innocent foundlings, moody teenagers, and very stern older women.  He probably doesn’t realize you’ve told them about him and the kid, though you were slightly vague on the details.

It’s also a little over three hours to get back, but you’re banking on it being closer to four with how whiney and tired some of the small voices sound, others sounding like they’re an enormous sugar rush contained into a tiny little capsule.  Would he have the gall to try and get you right from under their noses?  Will he even know you left the city, or will he assume you made the smartest decision possible and simply account for it ahead of time?  No, you're overthinking it, just make a decision and stick with it.

“There’s also free food,” Naydee shrugs while you’re still considering, but… well, that settles that.  Almost three days of friendship and she already knows exactly how to win you over in the end.  Sustenance for your empty tummy, an escort the entire way there, and heavily guarded walls beyond.  Din will have to get creative in response—you flaunted your imagination for days, coming up with dozens of evasion tactics to outlast him, but this one just seems… incredibly practical.  Exploiting a weakness of his—isolating it, having it be reinforced by precedent, and then taking advantage of it.  You bet he’ll catch on, but still, it’ll make it more difficult for him, and you’re grasping at straws to hang on just a little longer.

“I…”  Quick, come up with something.  You clear your throat.  “The city is too crowded, I haven’t been able to find them.  I could just… tell them where I’m headed and see if they can find me along the way?”

Naydee smiles and nods.  “Sounds perfect.”

Yet, the entire walk back… you keep thinking you’re going to feel Din trailing behind you, waiting to feel the nerves twist in your tummy and your palms to sweat, but you don’t.  You keep glancing over your shoulder and then down at your wrist, needing to talk yourself out of addressing him through the comm to let him know exactly what the plan is.  You like maintaining a sense of secrecy from the new characters you’ve met on your adventures—Naydee, Karga, Peli—almost everyone you’ve been introduced to, you found a way to find a subtle enjoyment in hiding certain things from them.  But with Din, you don’t have any walls.  They crumbled nearly a full year ago when he silently pushed a cauterizer in your hand and took his armor off for you, and you’ve felt the inexplicable need to bare yourself to him in return ever since.  It would be to your extreme detriment to do it now, but you still have to fight the urge.

Even if you don’t feel him following, you still find yourself acting like he is.  Constantly turning back to double check the road behind you, drifting off in the middle of shallow, distant conversations with tiny foundlings who can’t tell the difference, keeping towards the middle of the pack this time to avoid being picked off towards the back.  The belltower at the orphanage is loud and will ring for quite a distance, so your timing has to be utterly pristine for this to all work out.  You eye your comm the entire way there, trying to stall just the right amount to avoid any realizations or fall into any traps he may be setting for you.

You eventually leave the city walls far behind you, and now you have no clue where he is.  You lost him, and maybe that’s why you feel your heart beat insanely fast the whole time.  He could be anywhere now.  Behind you, adjacent, parallel—you can’t decide where to look, but it keeps you wide awake and focused while the group tiredly travels back to the temple.

***

Day 5–11:32pm:

You can see it in the distance, the brick buildings slowly coming into view.  One might think your stress would have worked itself out by now, been brought back to a manageable level after four hours of walking, but you’ve been on red alert for the past hour or so.  Any movement or rustle that doesn’t come from the sleepy children or exhausted caretakers, you’re on top of it, snapping your attention to the offending tree or animal and not being able to relax even after affirming it’s just nature, it’s not shiny metal bounding after you in the darkness, ready to take you down.

The infants are all likely snoozing away in the nursery, and the Sister who volunteered to stay behind and look after them comes to greet the group at the gate as you approach.  Like always, two Brothers open the iron bars to allow you inside, and you feel the anxiety dig its claws into your tummy.  If Din is going to get you, this is the very last moment to do it.  These walls are guarded and you’re nervous for him, you’re nervous for yourself—you’re just fucking nervous.  Jumpy and worried, not being able to pinpoint him anymore and feeling all the more anxious because of it.

It doesn’t feel right.  Nothing feels right about this, but you can’t figure out specifically what’s wrong.  This was the exact plan, this was a way for you to just survive these last few hours and yet, it doesn’t feel right that you actually succeeded in doing so.  It doesn’t make sense that he’d allow you to return all the way here, especially when he was close enough to touch you earlier.  Din has had so much time to snatch you up, so many opportunities to lure you away, confront you—anything to catch you, and he hasn’t done it yet.  Why?  Either you truly did escape and he has no idea where you are, which doesn’t feel right, or he’s choosing not to get you for whatever reason, which also doesn’t feel right.  What’s he waiting for?  You can’t have won.  It was all too fucking easy, you’re expecting to see him around every single corner because he should be there, he shouldn’t have allowed this to happen.

When someone gently touches your elbow, you’re so on edge that you nearly whip around in surprise.

“Sorry!”  Naydee immediately apologizes, taking her hand back to lift her hood and remove the mask covering her face.  “Didn’t mean to scare you!  I was just going to say that the commissary is still open,” she offers, and you watch the small group of hungry teenagers break off from the group to make their way there.  “It’s going to take awhile to get the children ready for bed, so we’ll be in the dormitories if you need to sleep.  Otherwise, I’m not sure I’ll see you again.”

You stare at her and blink a few times, trying to readjust your focus.  She’s your new friend, she just said this was likely the last time you’ll see each other, but you can’t stop thinking about Din.  Imagine he’s hours away in the city right now, still looking for you.  You’re trying to evaluate your priorities here, but you truthfully never expected to get this far.  Inside the gates, surrounded by brick buildings and silent guards.  You know your way around here, you know hiding spots, you know how to outlast—it’s incredibly advantageous for you to be inside these walls.  What is he doing?

Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you give Naydee a quick hug and she happily accepts it.  “I’m sure we’ll meet again at some point.”

She smiles and nods, pulling back and letting a couple grumpy foundlings catch her robes and yank on them impatiently.  The loud group eventually disappears into the dorms, and the door shutting behind them cuts off the tired crying and chatty voices determined to stay awake, leaving you in silence that feels slightly unfamiliar after going without it for so long.

Fuck, you just need to breathe.  As soon as the dead quiet grips the air around you, you realize you need to relax.  You’re way too fucking wound up; you want to bolt at the smallest thing and the sudden silence of being alone multiplies it to the point where you have to remind yourself of its importance.  Breathe.  Focus.  There’s about fifteen minutes before the bells ring, fifteen more minutes and the chase will be all over.

Can you eat?  You thought you’d want to, but you think you’re too fucking antsy.  You can’t stay here alone, that’s for sure, but you also don’t want to be around all the children right now.  The commissary will have a handful of people wandering around, teens snacking and maybe a Brother or two standing guard.  It’s the best place to wait the clock out, so you make your way there.  The gentle breeze billows around your loose robes, your pantlegs swishing as you walk.

A few minutes later, you’ve got a plate of food in front of you but your mask is still up, and you’re just sitting there.  Towards the back of the large room, sitting by yourself at one of the tables and staring down at your communicator.  Five minutes.  You have five fucking minutes left before he finds you.  Can you feel him?  Is he closing in?

You sit up a bit straighter, taking a deep breath.  Focus on that feeling from earlier.  The presence in your chest, the weight that didn’t used to be there months ago—focus on that feeling and branch it outwards.  Can you feel him?

Something catches your eye.

Or no… it doesn’t, does it?  Nothing is out of place here, nothing is visibly wrong or amiss.  The only thing that’s changed from all the times before is how dark it is through the windows, and how there are only a few kids in here grabbing a midnight snack instead of being packed like usual.  Nothing else.

But there’s… there’s an acolyte in the far corner, standing guard with his back to the wall.  It’s not his presence that gives you pause—you expected him to be here, there’s always been at least one present whenever you’ve sat down to eat.  He doesn’t look any different from the rest of the Brothers you’ve passed by this evening or the days before—tall, silent, dark brown robes, hooded and mysterious—so why do you suddenly feel yourself break out into a cold sweat as soon as your eyes land on him?

Bubbling laughter and chatter echoes through the large room from one of the tables near the entrance—seven teenagers stuffing their faces with food and sharing animated conversation with each other now that it’s late and they’re alone—but your stomach twists and your fingers start to tremble as you slowly rise from your seat in the back.  You want to keep your head down and be casual but it’s impossible, you desperately need to keep looking at that silent guard in particular and your heart kicks up in your chest—

—and then it wrenches sideways when you’re carefully backing away from the table and the offending acolyte takes a single step forwards.

Run.  Everything in you screams for you to run, and it’s rarely done that before, but you can’t.  Not yet, you don’t want to draw attention, and the logical part of your mind rages against your gut instinct to haul ass.  He’s here—of course he is, the thought screams through your veins as you try to weave quickly in between tables, feeling light on your toes and readying yourself to run as soon as you can.  The dark figure seems to find a careful pace behind you, staying just far enough behind and walking in perfect silence, and you have so many fucking questions but you can’t even think a single thing beyond run away, run away.  Where’s the kid?  How did he get those robes?  Did he actually take his helmet off just to get to you in a room where anyone could confront him?

Your feet propel you forward as soon as you make it out of the door, you break out into a sprint—just flat out bolting because you know how fucking fast he is and you need as big a headstart as you can get.

You race down the stairs and through the courtyard, the beautiful surroundings contrasting drastically with the way you’re running for your fucking life through them.  It’s not beautiful to you right now; you feel clumsy and physically unable to move fast enough no matter how quick you go, your eyes are wide and every nerve is on fire and you can’t even tell if he’s behind you anymore with how silently he moves, but you just trust that he is and keep barreling forward.  Your breath puffs against the clinging fabric of your mask as you keep sprinting, willing your legs to pump faster.  Get to the belltower at least, get to where you have the smallest chance of being caught by the people who guard this place.

As soon as you allow yourself to even conceive the possibility, two Brothers in dark hooded robes suddenly turn the corner a little ways in front of you and your reaction time is perfect—you jerk to a halt and take a single step forward as soon as they spot you.  Since your momentum already committed you to it, you just have to walk, keep your head down, move directly past them and hope Din disappeared from behind you in time.

Step, step, step—keep going, control your breathing, you’re okay, you’re allowed to be up late tonight and they shouldn’t stop you.  Walk right by…  Stars, you feel their silent stares as you casually pass, and it just feels so cold and analytical compared to the kind of danger Din is gives off when dressed in the exact same clothing.  He’s hard and tangible and an unrelenting force, where they just feel like ghosts that haunt this place.  The threat they present is impersonal and detached, but the terror currently chasing after you is so real that he can read your mind.

You wipe the sweat from your brow as soon as you turn the corner, and your feet are already starting to speed up on their own knowing you’re out of their sight.  Run, get to the belltower before Din does, you can see it standing tall about a hundred feet away.  The stairs leading to the door come closer and closer, but you hear something behind you and it propels you faster.  It’s like you can feel him right at your heels even though you haven’t seen him, snapping at your ankles even though your footsteps are the only ones you can hear anymore.

You scramble up the stairs and close the door behind you, spinning around and facing it even as you slowly retreat backwards into the moonlit tower, trying to stay quiet.  Breathing through your nose, eyes shifting around the enclosed space, continuing to back up and away from the door.  Where is he?  There are so many windows that allow you to look outside, but why can’t you spot his movement through them?  Wasn’t he right behind you?

Behind you.

There’s no reason or logic at all to it; you just react.  Spinning around and throwing a mean punch.

Din jerks back just in time to miss it, twisting and dodging at the very last second to avoid your next few hits—but… things seem to slow down, even if they’re happening so fast.  The moonlight cascades through the dozens of windows lining the circular walls and it shines just enough to reveal small glimpses of him.  With every aggressive strike from you, you see something else—you see a flash of his chin when you try to uppercut, you aim for his chest and you see a bit of his jaw.  When you go for his jaw, he steps sideways and catches your wrist, and you see the bend of his nose catch the light this time.

But then it’s like he finally figures out that you’re actually fighting him, and now he’s coming for you.  Trained and ruthless, not weighed down by any armor and lightning quick, launching perfectly aimed attacks that you’re only able to avoid from reaction and muscle memory alone.  You block or move whenever he strikes, you attack whenever you see an opening, you sidestep at the same time he does—

Until you land a spin kick directly to the center of his chest and snap your leg to shove him back, your heel smashing into that soft spot right above his stomach with dead precision and brute force.  He exhales sharply and takes a few more steps back to steady himself while you pause to catch your breath.

Din abruptly comes back and you fall into it with him again, keeping a sharp rhythm with each other that’s faster, harder, and way more real than any sparring match you’ve ever shared.  The hours and days in hyperspace you spent practicing with him are but a fraction of what he’s throwing at you right now, the combinations so rapid and blurred that you just have to trust your knowledge of him and his movement through the dark.

But then, your downfall.  Bells begin ringing an earsplittingly familiar melody above you, and it shatters your concentration—you falter just as he grabs you and sweeps your feet out, and though you know how to get out of that, you’re not quick enough on the jump nor counterswing to prevent it.  He takes you to the ground, hard, and then your wrists are being pinned together above your head and your mask is being tugged down.

Din’s mouth on yours makes you want to cry.

The whole thing is like coming home.  You spent a week surrounded by strangers and having them call you by a name not given to you, fending for yourself, and now here he is.  Someone who knows who you really are, someone that wants to care for you.  Tears come to your eyes even as they're pressed tightly shut, and Din kisses you like he’s never known anything else.  His mouth fits to yours as if the Maker made your lips before ever considering the rest of you, his bare hand clutching your jaw and forcing you to open for him, letting him lick deep inside after going so many days without it.  It might feel dominant and overwhelming if it happened to any other person, but through it, you can also taste his desperation and weakness, how soft he is even when he’s squeezing your jaw and squishing your wrists together too tightly.

Rigid steel that bends only for your touch.

He pulls back and your heart throbs at how moonlight continues to bathe just the smallest glimpses of him under the hood—never the full thing, never the whole face, but enough.  The quiet light that brushes the arch of his nose, how it bathes the hard line of his jaw so that you can barely see his scruff when he turns his head the right way.  His eyes are hidden in near darkness but there’s the faintest glimmer where they should be, and it’s the closest you’ve ever been to looking at him without the helmet.  You can see him, you can see shadows of his chin, his neck—dear stars, his fucking neck.  You’re pinned and paralyzed under him and the ringing bells, yet you feel like you just might float if he wasn’t holding you so tight to the floor.

“Where’s the baby?”  You finally lift your chin and ask, needing to raise your voice over the melody clanging loud throughout the tower.

“Making friends,” Din pants back down at you, and… stars, then you just start giggling.  Adrenaline turning into pure joy, imagining the kid wreaking havoc with all the other babies in the nursery right now.  It feels more light and airy than anything your body should know.

“What are you so happy about?” He asks, swallowing and then continuing on with the same quick gasps.  “You lost, I caught you in time.”

“Did you?”  You drop your head to the brick floor and ask, biting your lip as he stares back down at you.  Suddenly—

—Bong—

Din holds utterly still over you while you take a quick breath and wait for the next eleven bells… 

…but then break into a slow grin up at him when nothing but utter silence follows.

There’s a moment.  Just a single moment where the cogs turn rapidly under that shadowy hood, one where the faint reflection of light in his eyes flickers down to the communicator on your wrist that says midnight and back to you, one that solidifies the longer it takes for another bell to ring.  It’s not going to.

One o’clock.

You think he puts it together.  The one moment he was never able to figure you out—when you tried reprogramming the comms just a few days ago.  The one trick up your sleeve that you resigned to throw away and almost forget about because the circumstances for pulling it off were never realistic.  Fuck with the electronics and set the clock back just one hour—all you’d need to do is reset his communicator, the timecode is synced together.  He told you before that it’s connected to his helmet, but all the buttons still work.  Rapid, panicky thinking and a wild surge of bravery in the face of certain downfall is the only reason you were able to pull it off, and you’re perfectly willing to admit you just got lucky… especially when he’s still holding dead still over you.

But then Din moves so suddenly.  You can’t account for it because there’s no build-up whatsoever—it’s so fast, you yelp while he grabs your knees and throws them both to one side.  You flop over sideways and large hands reach up under the draping length of your tunic to yank your pants down over the curve of your ass, before he’s fitting his palm up between your legs and pushing two thick fingers inside you.

Your head thunks back against brick with how unexpected and merciless it is, but his other hand is grabbing your jaw and twisting, forcing you to look up, stare right into the dark shadow under the loose cowl.  The whole thing is too overwhelming—you’re trying to keep quiet but your breathing feels like thunder crashing inside this tall, echoing chamber.  He’s touched you so many times, he knows exactly how to do it by now, but it feels like so much more than that.  Probably because you can see the way Din’s mouth silently falls open as he feels you, stretching his fingers up and hooking them tight inside.  You can tell when he closes his eyes, the smallest glint slowly disappearing into nothingness while the hand around your jaw blindly moves up.  It catches your chin and lips, and then two fingers push over the bottom edge of your teeth to slip into your mouth.

Your entire leg twitches and jerks while you lay sideways on the ground and open up for him, your neck twisted at a sharp angle to keep your eyes on him and his fingers in your mouth, giving you something to bite to stop making noise.  Din makes room for himself inside you two different ways, and you just choke on his fingers and try to stay quiet, praying he’ll go deeper.

But then you’re not expecting his whole fucking arm to start moving the way it does—oh fuck, what is that?  First you just feel jostled and displaced, but then suddenly a wicked, deep, burning pleasure starts to roar through you, radiating outwards from the rapid motion of just two fingers inside you.  It’s not in and out, it’s up and down so hard and quick against your g-spot that your eyes cross and your hands go numb.

You think you grab at him, clutch onto his arm or chest and open your mouth to moan at the new and overwhelming sensation, but his hand pushes up against your chin and closes it for you, the bend of his fingers caught hard between your teeth but you don’t think he cares.

“Quiet,” Din hisses the word down at you while his arm continues to work, your toes starting to curl as the feeling overwhelms you.  Fuck, what is happening, what is happening?  It’s like he’s just shoving unfamiliar sensation at you so forcefully that you can’t even think straight anymore, not even ten seconds in.  You can only feel the pleasure, fire blurring hot and shapeless through your entire body as your eyes clamp shut, his fingers isolating that perfect spot and stimulating it directly, relentlessly.

Something dull and white hot presses up tight against all the muscles you have down there and you’re almost afraid of how strong it is.  You gasp and choke and he has to take his fingers out of your mouth and just clamp down around your entire jaw, sealing the whole thing shut with his large hand.  And then Din’s fingers leave your pussy too—and stars, you should be embarrassed by how desperately it clamps around nothing for as long as it does.  He’s not even inside you anymore but your body is on such a delay from the hot, twisting pleasure, and he doesn’t put them back in until your muscles are finished spasming.

Everything comes back full force as soon as he starts moving again.  Noise starts to come from your throat, humming in your vocal cords to deal with the arcing, swirling build, and so Din just moves his hand there instead.  He finds where it’s vibrating from your neck and he pushes up against it, trapping the sound right at the source.  He’s fucking perfect at it for some reason… how many times must he have done this to know how to cut noise out without stopping airflow?  You clutch at his wrist and silently mouth his name, feeling his arm work between your legs—faster, faster, harder, pushing you higher, higher—

Din pulls his fingers out again and this time, one of your thighs suddenly feels warm and wet while you spasm and you hear him growl out a ragged, “Fuck yes.”  Everything is sparks zapping through you long after his touch is gone, you cry out but it’s all trapped under Din’s expert grip.  His fingers soon push back inside you and you dig your nails into his forearm, your sounds muffled and quiet enough to hear his raspy groan.  

“Let me see it again,” Din breathes, his arm starting to work up and down once more, and you don’t even know what he’s talking about anymore.  What does he want to see?  You losing your mind again?  Being reduced to an utter mess in front of his shadowy but unobstructed gaze just because you managed to pull one over on him?

Fucking… apparently.  It’s what happens, after all.  You’ve never seen him like this before; whenever he’s worked up and taking it out on you, there was always something in it for him, too.  He’d hammer into you and rock your world until his eventually shattered, and then you’d both lay exhausted afterwards, equally affected and satisfied.  This isn’t like that—this is just cruel, targeted retribution on his behalf, coaxing the molten pleasure out of you with his fingers and keeping his other hand locked around your throat.  You blink helplessly up at him, your vision starting to blur by the time he leans down to whisper to you.

“I missed you, sweet girl.  Did you miss me?”  It’s so soft and quiet compared to the strength and relentlessness of his movements.  You can’t speak even if you wanted to, but when he finally pulls away to yank his hand out and you feel all your muscles automatically flex outwards and push against the sudden emptiness inside you, his voice groans long and satisfied while your thighs get wet again  “Yeah you did,” he breathes, pushing your shaky legs to the brick with his hand and watching you struggle through the aftershocks.

Did you just cum?  You don’t even know, that’s how fucked up you are right now.  The whole thing felt like an orgasm from the very beginning, just a boiling hot tornado ripping through every single cell in your body, never really having a peak.  If you didn’t cum, then why do you feel so weak?  You feel heavy, your limbs don’t work properly, and you barely even register Din pulling at the fabric of his own robes until he fits himself up against your entrance.

When you do realize it, though… your body burns with it, wrecked already but wanting him to take what he wants from you.

“Oh, plea—” you gasp but you don’t even have enough time to get the full sentence out.  He’s already pushing his hips forward, pressing you tight into the ground and opening you up after what feels like a fucking eternity without him.  It’s the hottest, slickest welcome you could give him, you hear it in the whispered curse his lips brush up under your ear, the wet noises your body makes that get louder the longer you hold the moan in your throat and bury your head into his shoulder.  He throbs thick and perfect inside your tight, spasming cunt, stretching you and smacking the rough ground near your head with how fucking good it is to be back, finally, finally—

Your hands grab uselessly at his chest while you try to acclimate, try to breathe while you’re blind with sensation.  It’s so fitting for him, isn’t it?  That your reunion should be just as physically debilitating as it is mentally.  Din’s voice scrapes on a groan like he’s dragging it across the brick ground as quiet as he can, catching when you clamp down on him and shuddering when you clamp down harder.  That’s just it—you don’t ever loosen, you just keep tightening and tightening around him, threatening to break and cum again.

This feels different from before, though.  It’s deep, purposefully so.  His hand reaches up to push the fabric of your hood back, lifting himself up over your body and wanting to start as deep as he can.  You feel him in a place you’d never be able to reach and that’s just the beginning—that’s before he starts thrusting into you, hitting a dull sensation at the apex of each movement so hard that it becomes sharp.  His hips don’t make practically any sound smacking into you because they don’t really smack, they just rock downwards and fuck you into the floor without needing to pull out really at all.  You know he’s just trying to keep it as quiet as possible, but what he lacks in speed and agility he makes up in power.

You don’t even realize you’re making too much noise until a palm wraps tight around your mouth and the room gets a little emptier.  Din keeps you all to himself on the floor, silencing as much as he’s working you up, smothering as much as he’s freeing you.  There’s no easing up, no dragging it out, no gradual build or climb—it’s just there all of a sudden, pleasure and pain pummeling you all at once, engulfing you in flames.

You reach up to grab at the loose fabric of the hood over his face, catching a fistful of it before his hand suddenly snatches your shaky wrist and pins it back to the ground.

Maker, you forgot—oh, you completely forgot about how many people could find you right now if they ever decided to look in the right place.  You’re not in hyperspace; your body is rocking against rough brick, you’re probably going to have a lump on the back of your head from how terrible you are at trying to map out heaven while holding still.  He’s pinned down what he can with one hand; your fingers are the only things that can move besides how tight you can curl your toes, but you feel your moans turn into words against his palm.  They garble indistinctly and you’re not really even sure what you’re saying, but Din decides it’s worth hearing.

“Shh,” he whispers, slowly lifting his hand from your mouth.  “Shh, tell me—”

“W-wanna look,” you hear yourself whimper, trying your best to keep quiet but wanting to scream it while he fucks you hard and slow on the ground, “—I wanna see, I wanna look at you—”

“Fuck,” Din gasps, and though his grip tightens on your wrist and you know he can’t do it right this second, the words seem like they shatter something inside him, “Keep—oh fuck, please, k-keep saying…”

“I want to marry you,” you nearly whine for him, feeling his hips kick up rapidly and start hammering in and out, in and out, in and—“I want to see your face, I wanna be yours, I don’t want anyone else to know you the way I-I—”

You think he drops his head into your neck to muffle his own sounds.  Though they start out rough and quiet and indiscernible, but they gradually become louder as he repeats himself over and over again, growling and fucking you rough.  You only catch it on the peak, when he pulls his mouth away from your skin and gasps them raggedly one last time.

“—ve you—I l-love y—”

He kisses you to stop himself.  But it’s not really a kiss, it’s more desperate than that.  Though it’s beautiful, it’s beautiful in a different light.  It’s not rejoicing at having you back with him once again; it’s a last prayer begging you to stay by his side forever.  He loves you.  He gives it everything—it feels even more concrete and simple than taking the hood off him and revealing his face would.  You told you that you'd know him without ever seeing him, and you did.  You picked him out and found him when absolutely nothing was giving him away, and this feels like a manifestation of that.  Even if you’re not in a place where he can show you his face, his beautiful brown eyes, something still feels like it changes.  He loves you.  You gasp into his mouth and his tongue sinks deep into yours, tenacious and brave and unyielding.  

When you finally cum, you almost bite him on accident.  

Everything surges hot and molten while he pulls back and keeps fucking you through it, and you can’t tell where you’re touching him anymore, just that his skin is blazing hot under your hand and he feels like everything the armor isn’t.  He loves you.  You’re looking into his eyes right now.  You can’t see any of the details, not really, but the moonlight flickers like silent stars moving through dark depths, staring right back at you and giving you an anchor for the euphoria rocketing through you.  He loves you.  Your nails dig in sharp and slowly drag downwards, scratching hard red lines into whatever thick muscle that is—

The back of his neck, making his hips stutter and when he cums for you, he does bite.

You lift your head just in time to feel his teeth catch your chin instead of your mouth, and his entire body shakes while you keep dragging your nails down the side of his neck and his throat.  Din fucking lives for it, he releases you and arches into the pain and owns your marks like he wishes you made them deeper, stretching his neck and lifting his chin into the moonlight and—

Maker.  You can see it, with direct light, you can see more of it than ever before.  You can see his soft lips and white teeth gritting the sound of your name as quietly as he can, the dark facial hair dusting across the lower half of his face.  A fucking gorgeous jawline and throat extended long over you, flexing hard with his cock pulsing inside you.  You can just barely see the bottom of his nose from under the brown hood, the dark curls brushing up under his ears.

Stars, you still never see his eyes, the fabric of his hood acts like a blindfold draped over them, but you think you cum again.  Even if it’s on accident, it’s mean—Din tries to keep from squishing you and his hand pushes down hard against your lower tummy while he shoves his hips deep one last time, and you cum while staring at half of his face in the moonlight.  Completely lovestruck.

How can he be this beautiful when you’ve only seen fractions of him?  You have everything but the eyes now, everything but the most mysterious thing about him, the reflection into his deepest self, but you feel like you’re hypnotized by every single feature you do see.  His tongue coming out to wet his lips, the vein pulling under his sharp jaw—he’s gorgeous, he’s gorgeous, and your body agrees.  It shakes and shudders under him and eventually, Din finishes and you keep looking as his chin slowly lowers, face disappearing into the shadow once more.

Stars.  He’s so handsome and no one has ever told him, fucking dreamy and the biggest grump you’ve ever met.  Without being able to see him, you already want to reach your hands out and touch him, drag your nails through his scruff and force him to extend outwards into the moonlight again for you.  Whenever he does end up showing you his face, you know right fucking now that you’ll never be able to look away.  For the rest of your life, you’ll be staring at him, apologizing blankly for your rudeness but not feeling sorry at all.

Din leans down and gives you a slow, gentle kiss, finally relaxing into a slouch and breathing hard with the effort it took to shatter you with pleasure.

“The kid is with the other foundlings,” he whispers against your lips.  “You… you’ll have to go get him, I need to grab my armor.”

You squeeze around his cock, pulling at the fabric of his robes and ignoring him for just a second.  He fucked you in robes belonging to one of the guards and nobody has mentioned it, you need to say something.  “Where did you get this?”

“I found it,” he tells you after a moment, kissing up under your jaw.  Oh fucking Maker, he feels so good and perfect inside you, shoulders so broad and crowding you on the floor, and his lips are plush and hot, brushing and fitting your skin like it’s just an extension of his own.  “Some guy was wearing it.”

It takes you a second.

“Mando,” you suddenly gasp in quiet horror, pushing at his chest and trying your best to detach his mouth from your throat.  It’s so much more difficult than it needs to be, but you eventually succeed.  “What did you do to him?  Where is he?”

He lifts his neck up just the tiniest bit, turning his face towards yours under the hood and holding still for way too fucking long.  He’s too close to see the expression he’s making, but you know the tone of his silence.  He’s in trouble and he knows it before you do.

“Ma—”

“They’re in a closet,” he admits at the very same time, completely monotone.

You don’t know which word to emphasize.  A fucking closet?  They’re?  Plural?  Instead of stressing any particular word, you decide not to do it at all and it ends up just coming out in the same exact blank tone as him.  “They're in a closet.”

“Inside the Temple,” Din continues on when you lay still as a statue underneath him.  His head slowly dips down once more, pushing his hips against you just the slightest bit to make you remember the cock still inside you instead.  Your eyelashes flutter with it—fuck, focus—“I didn’t know there’d be more than two.”  He kisses your neck so gently.  “It was an accident.”

You don’t say anything at all, your mouth pinching down at the corners because it should but your heartbeat galloping with how… fucking sexy he is.  You shouldn’t encourage this, this horrible behavior just to get close enough to catch you, but your curiosity overtakes you and you ask a question you’ve asked yourself before.  “Did they put up a fight?”

“Mm,” he whispers noncommittally, rocking his hips down once more.  “You did.”  Your nails dig into his chest, making him falter just slightly before slowly kissing your neck again.  “Did so good.  Fought hard, outsmarted me.  Pretty fucking girl.”

And then your eyes pop open as you feel it.  His cock suddenly beginning to harden once again inside you, twitching and gradually gaining a thicker shape, and for a moment, you actually fucking consider it.  He’s the only one in this galaxy that could not only ruin you on these sacred grounds, but then coax you into doing it more than once—stars, are you actually considering it?

“We can’t,” you automatically tell him, but it’s fucking pitiful.  Zero effort, absolutely no umph behind it, leaving it entirely up to him and how much he wants it.  Your logic reminds you that the kid is probably wreaking havoc in the nursery and there are tied up guards in the fucking temple that could be discovered any second.  You shouldn’t have even let him fuck you here in the first place, but…  “Mando, we can’t—”

His mouth opens against the crook of your neck and his tongue brushes velvet hot on your skin, tasting the glistening sweat there and not moving his broad figure a single inch over you besides getting closer, deeper.  Your nails dig into his collarbone, aiming for reason one last time.  It’s apparent that you’d be better off rephrasing, knowing the challenging streak in him and how much telling him what to do doesn't help.

“It’s not a good idea,” you attempt instead, breathless and trying not to move under his mouth and lazy hips.  “Not smart.  Bad idea to fuck again.”

Din’s body stops moving, even though he keeps getting harder.  His jaw opens and then his teeth scrape softly against your flesh, making you tilt your neck back and gasp.

“Later,” he lifts his head to state aloud, committing it to truth now that it’s been spoken and heard by another person.  “Later, I’ll fuck you on the ship, in our bed, when I can get you naked and have your taste in my mouth.”

Tingles rock through your body and you squeeze around his cock just as he pulls it out and tucks it back into his pants.  Your lungs quiver when you inhale—it’s shaky, but it reminds you of how long it’s been since you’ve been able to breathe correctly.

“Later,” you finally agree, combing your fingers through your hair and glad you have this hood to cover your freshly fucked dishevelment.  He came inside you and you don’t want to be leaking and getting your nice pretty robes all wet and stained, but then of course, without any prompting, Din quickly scoots back on his knees and drops his head down to take care of it for you.

***

Commotion.

After Din helped you clean up the way he sometimes likes and then disappeared to change back into his armor, you put your mask and hood back on and tried to look as casual as possible walking to the nursery.  Your knees wobbled slightly and you couldn’t stop smiling under the mask the entire walk there, but when you arrived, you just saw a dim room with sleeping infants—not what you were expecting.  Soon, however, you hear it: down the hall, distant and coming from the dormitories, you hear a loud commotion.

Fuck, you’re nearly wincing with every step you take now, and not because you’re sore.  Well, you… are, a little bit, but in a great way.  No, you’re just dreading the ridiculous shinanigans you already know are well underway, wondering if Din actually dropped the kid off in the dorms from the beginning or if he somehow migrated his way there to cause trouble.

When you walk inside, the first thing you see is a handful of crying and shouting toddlers, and while you can’t immediately spot your favorite floppy-eared monster, you don’t have to see him to know he’s probably standing tiny directly in the middle of this tense showdown.  Automatically, you’re taking a few steps forward to rescue him, but then you stop as soon as you see what the other babies are so mad about.  A large piece of chocolate leftover from the festival levitating just beyond their pitiful little reaches.

Hm.  Who could possibly be responsible for using demon powers to steal snacks and hold them hostage from a sizeable group of hostile children.  A mystery that may never be solved.

It makes you take a second.  The sheer… the… stars, you can’t even think straight—how fucking typical it is just hits you right in the chest, sends your heart into orbit.  Of course.  Of course this is what he’s gotten himself into without immediate supervision, of course this is the shipwreck you’d walk into, and you’re holding back a chuckle before making a single move to intervene.  In the midst of everything, you can hear adults approaching distantly from behind you.

“—don’t know where it came from, I was helping the younglings into bed when I heard the ruckus and I—”

The voices gradually grow louder, and you snatch the floating piece of candy out of thin air and whip around right before Sister Drya and Naydee walk in.  Their hushed, concerned conversation is cut to an abrupt end, and you clear your throat as they take you in, standing in front of chaos central continuing to go off behind you.  Do you… look as freshly disheveled as you are?  You’re not supposed to be here, you know, but hopefully the only strange thing is your presence itself and not anything concerning your appearance.

“Nerida,” the older lady suddenly announces, the name alone holding so much expectation, and the younglings missing their candy have now turned their ire towards you and the crinkly food wrapper hidden in your fist.  “What is the meaning of this?”

“Ah, yeah,” you stand up a little straighter, letting the chocolate casually fall out of your grip behind you, and a stampede of feet suddenly kick up to recover it.  It’s fine, nobody will know, it’s fine.  “It’s just…”  Your head tips behind you to the cause of the uproar, feeling a bit sheepish yet so incredibly fond.  “My… kid.”

Sister Drya stares at you for a few seconds, before tipping sideways and staring at the culprit.  “That is your child?”

You turn around just in time to see him, now abandoned by the angry mob of children, finally notice you.  All of a sudden, his pitch black eyes light up something bright and sunshiney, and you just start beaming in return.  What an adorable little creature, apple of your eye and pain of your ass.

“Yep,” you sigh, dropping into a squat and watching him barrel towards you, catching him right before he can trip over his brown potato sack and scooping him up into your arms.  “Hiya, bug,” you murmur with a grin, lifting back up and plopping him in his favorite spot in the universe—your left hip.  “You making friends?”

He giggles and it’s like sparkles and bubbles fill the room instead, wrapping tiny arms around the largest surface area he can get and clinging.  He laughs with a tiny open mouth, bless him, clearly not understanding the sarcasm, and suddenly your eyes feel just the slightest bit wet.  No, you’re not crying, don’t be fucking ridiculous, but you missed him like hell and he’s just the cutest fucking thing—why do you feel like crying?

“Sorry about that,” you apologize to the two women while slowly turning around, brushing your thumb over one of his cheeks and smiling as it squishes.  “He’s… uh.  Not great at sharing.  We’ll work on it.”

Takes after his dad, you purposefully leave out, just a different kind of sharing.  Din hasn’t shown you his full face yet and the kid performs magic tricks to taunt a roomful of children a fraction of his age for a single piece of chocolate, completely different kind of sharing.

Sister Drya says something in response, but when you look up to address her, all you see is Din standing silently behind her and Naydee, slowly dropping his hand from his helmet to his side.  They don’t seem to notice he’s there and you automatically try your best to pay attention to the Sister speaking to you, but your eyes get caught on the silver reflecting in the dim light beyond.  Fuck, he’s a presence.  An immediate distraction, taking all your focus with a single glimpse.  Seeing him fully armored again, staring at you from the silent shadows behind everything… you melt a little bit, knowing that you’ve seen more of what’s underneath than anyone.  Your shoulders settle and your entire body burns warm, wobbly like the air around a fire, and one of the kid’s hands leaves you to reach out towards his dad.

You watch the metallic helmet tilt sideways after a moment, saying everything without saying anything.  Come on, make up an excuse, let’s get out of here.

Looking at him in the quiet shadows, you’re reminded once again about how much you love him, how much softness you have inside you for a man so hard, so guarded.  And, for the first time, a voice in your head finishes a poem you didn’t realize you were writing, adding its own verse and bringing everything back around to the beginning.  He loves you, too.  How much he lets his guard down for you, the way he’s revealed more of his face to you than not.  You love each other.  You’re family.

So, all at once, you decide to mess with him, because that’s what family does best.

“Don’t be shy, come say hello,” you suddenly urge his silent figure, taking a step forward and speaking directly to him.  “Sister Drya, Naydee, I’d like to introduce you to my—”

It’s remarkable, you see it happen in front of you.  Like he has powers of his own, Din just literally fucking disappears.  Like magic, he’s nowhere to be found within a blink of an eye.  You know he’s capable of it; he’s done it plenty of times during the chase just to fuck with your head, but you’re staring straight at him when it happens this time and it might just be the funniest fucking thing you’ve ever seen him do.

Sister Drya and Naydee both turn around to an empty hallway bathed in shadows and you laugh.  A deep, shameless, loud belly laugh.  Where the fuck did he go so quick?  You were staring straight at him and you have no fucking clue.  He’s just out, and you’re left alone with his child and the unspoken understanding that he’ll just catch up with you later.

You’re giggling even as you shake your head and give the women your genuine thanks for keeping you and feeding you these past few days, grabbing your backpack with all your belongings and eventually using three green fingers to wave goodbye to them.  The very first thing Din says when he seamlessly joins you outside the Keja later is, “That wasn’t funny,” which just makes you laugh harder.

***

About a half hour has passed, and you’re walking along a dirt road, cradling a very happy baby in your arms and giving the grown man next to you an incredibly hard time.

“You’re unbelievable,” you mutter, your back twinging slightly at the way you’re leaning about as sideways as you can get without falling over.  You think you’re basically just the hypotenuse between the ground and Din, who easily supports almost your entire weight with your backpack slung around his far shoulder and readily allows you to rest against him.

“They’re fine,” he grumbles in response, squeezing you tight to his side.  You just have to focus on moving your feet; it’s like he’s practically carrying your upper-half anyways.  “I gave them the night off.”

“You stuffed them in a closet,” you hiss, feeling his shoulder shrug under your cheek.

“I gave them the robe back,” he says, not really defending himself and more just throwing it out there to see if it helps any.  “I’m sure someone’s found them by now, they’re fine.”

Your eyes suddenly go wide, absolutely mortified at the thought.  “Wait.  What do you mean you gave the robe back?”

He shrugs once more, apparently not seeing the problem yet.  “I borrowed it, so I gave it back after I put my armor back on.”

If you could plant your feet on the dirt road and screech to a halt, you would, but all your weight is already resting on him and you’re working solely off his forward movement.  You just hope your tone holds the same amount of shocked disapproval your body language would’ve conveyed if you weren’t so completely attached to his hip like a parasite he adores.

“You fucked me wearing it, though.”  Your voice is strangely flat, so fucking confused and horrified by the mental image of him just tossing the soiled garments haphazardly somewhere in the temple behind you, or even worse, leaving them somewhere respectful, and Din soon stops in the middle of the deserted road.

“Oh,” is all he says, emotionless and blank through the modulator.  Did he not even consider this?

“I had to promise them I was a virgin just to sleep there, you know,” you admit, and you can tell that’s brand new information to him with how still he goes as you continue to lean against him.  You’re getting the feeling that he probably knows a lot more about your experiences on this moon than you think he does, but can tell that this is brand new information to him.  “And you locked three of their holy men in a closet, chased me across the temple grounds, fucked me in one of their robes, and then.  You gave it.  Back.”

Din stays perfectly silent for quite some time.  You can never go back to that place, you know this for a fact.  You’re banned forever now, it’s what you deserve.

Never one to be outdone but not actually having anything to say for himself, Din suddenly decides to just scoop you into his arms and boost up into the sky without a single word like an actual fucking maniac.

You squeal and damn near drop the baby because of it, but he cinches you tight to his chest and refuses to loosen with your struggle.  Eventually, after you realize he’s completely locked you in and you won’t fall to your death with this poor innocent child in your arms, you glance over the shiny pauldron on his shoulder and watch the kid’s crib disappear by the abandoned road as Din takes you higher and higher.

The crib—he forgot the crib—

“D-Din,” you stammer out through the whistling air, stiff as a board.  Stars, you have such a different sense of adventure than him; an explorer and a daredevil, one who gets a thrill from discovering the existence of the edge of a cliff and one who’ll take a running dive off of it without thinking twice.  He’s hit with blaster fire some days, he faces down death completely fearless like it owes him one every single time, and you’re stiff as a fucking board while he carries you through the sky.  It’s stunning up here, it’s exciting and wonderful, but you’re so scared that you can barely even look.  He’s giving you the most fantastical view, everything your budding adventurous streak could ever ask for, and your terror is crushing.  It would be different if you could hold on, but you’re responsible for not letting the baby slip through your arms and you just have to trust that he won’t let you slip through his.

You raise your voice.  “Din?!”

“I won’t drop you,” he automatically reassures, and well you sure as fuck hope not, but there’s something else.

“What about the crib?”  You call out over the wind whipping, tucking the baby tight to your chest and settling your hands over his ears to avoid them flapping and whacking you repeatedly in the chin.

“We’ll come back for it,” he responds, just as easily.  Maker, you wish decision-making came that easy to you, that commitment and choice should be so simple as to just fly away from things on the ground and promise out loud to come back for them.  You know he will, but still, his spontaneity shocks you after spending the past week thinking every decision through meticulously, and you’re taken aback by the casualness of it all while soaring through the sky, committing such spectacular feats without a single thought beyond it.

Soon—incredibly soon, which honestly kind of blows your mind—you spot Nariss glowing in the distance and then you’re flying overtop of the city, slowly dropping altitude in the middle of a quiet little side street.

Din carefully allows your feet to settle on the ground before letting go, but you still stumble a bit stupidly after flying so high without any sort of safety measure besides him, prioritizing the steadiness of the baby in your arms instead of your feet underneath you.  His gloves catch at your clumsy body and pull you along with him without another word, leading you out of the quiet alley and into the middle of a beautiful, luminescent street.

What’s he doing?  He seems slightly hurried, and you’re clueless but you go with it, clamoring along behind him to wherever he’s leading you.

Though, you suddenly remember one of the very last things you told him last night right before he steps up in front of a vendor.

“Caf,” Din grunts, sliding a few credits towards the man standing behind the counter. “The… biggest one you have.”

Okay, well.  You could just about fucking cry.

“Y’sure?” The vendor asks skeptically, jerking his head at the large thermos behind him.  He’s balding, wearing a white outfit with his eyes scrunched up and forehead sweaty, likely working all day.  “It ain’t fresh.  Closin’ up soon, was just about to trash it and go home.”

The helmet turns to gauge your response to the news, the sharp angles and contours looking so sleek and dangerous as they reflect the colorful lamplights, but just filling you with comfort beyond anything in the entire galaxy.  He’ll take that armor off for you tonight and you’ll sleep next to him.  He’ll call you by your given name, or the fond name he’s given you, and you’ll cuddle your baby on a metal floor in hyperspace with him, and all will be well.  Even if he needs to leave again soon—even if you don’t get to go with him, you’ll always have these small eternities with each other, and that’s more enough for you now.

You’re completely zoned out while staring at him, and Din turns back to the vendor before you can even remember the conflict he was attempting to defer to you.

“Yeah, just empty the whole thing in there for her,” he mutters, and you want to marry him.  It’s been a long week, and in your haze and delight of being with him in this gorgeous setting, your brain turns to cavewoman mush.  Big man, makes me happy.  Strong man, loves me, knows me.  Provider, makes me feel good, protector, loves me.

Din hands you the large cup of steaming caffeine, clueless to your grunted inner monologue but knowing better than to reach out and grab the kid from your other arm.  You’re just fine like this, hands full, the little frog snuggled up against your side and blinking up at your face instead of any of the shiny or glowing things around you.  When you look down at him, you can see the world through his eyes—quite literally, they’re reflective and gigantic—and his father’s hand quickly finds its preferred spot on your lower back.

“Try to drink it quick,” Din advises you gruffly, pulling you snug into his side and sloshing the big cupful of piping hot liquid in your hand.

“It’s a thousand degrees,” you protest, trying to balance your three favorite things in the universe all begging for your direct attention at once.  “It has to cool down.”

He gives a dismissive hm in response, and you frown even as your heart soars with how tightly he’s gripping you, how little leeway you have to even move without him.  Part of you is so thrilled at being reunited with him that you consider snarking something back at him, excitement making you brave.  He could probably chug boiling hot liquid in thirty seconds and doesn’t see the point in letting it sit any longer, and you could make some stupid joke about filtering it through his helmet or having a built in bendy straw but you decide to keep it to yourself.

So then you just stand there together, under stringed lights and flowers everywhere, and he waits.  Holding you glued to his side, completely silent and clearly just waiting for your caf to stop steaming so threateningly in your hand so you can drink it.  For some reason, the fact that he’s wanted by the New Republic doesn’t really register at this second—you’re not looking for cops, though he may be.  You’re just lost in this beautiful, fancy city that’s on the edge of finally quieting down after a long day, and you’d like to see more of it with him next to you.

“Well, do you wanna just…”  You ask, tilting your head around at all the vendors.  “Shop around for a bit?”

“Shop… around,” Din repeats slowly, sounding the words out like they’re not common Basic.  Admittedly, they do sit a bit awkward in his voice when put together like that, describing a phenomena he’s likely never even considered a thing before, but it’s so fucking pretty here and you’d like to show him something this time instead of the other way around.

“Yeah, like,” you shrug a shoulder, tipping your head in a random direction.  Anywhere, you’ll go literally anywhere with him, the three of you can go explore.  “Just wander around, and look at all the pretty things.”

From where you’re standing right now, you can already see glittering crystals and jewels being sold at the tent across the street, there’s a booth dedicated entirely to floral arrangements and crowns next to it, you can hear a distant quartet playing melodically in the distance and a couple is being painted by an artist on the corner.  Bars are in full swing at this point, as if they weren’t all day, and even though the merchandise is all different, the multicolored tents look slightly similar when they’re underlit with multicolored lights.  It’s less slightly lively than it was in the daytime, but also… more beautiful, in a sense.  Muted, softer, more romantic.

“I don’t have any more credits,” Din admits casually, finally turning to look around at everything.  You get the feeling that he’s just now seeing it, even after spending the entire day here.  “That stale caf was the last of it.”

Money well fucking spent, you can assure him of that.

“It’s okay,” you tell him automatically, gently bumping your hip into his.  “We don’t need credits, we can just look.”

So that’s what you do.  Even though it’s completely not his fucking style, for the next hour or so, you just walk around downtown with him and sip your caf, looking at anything and everything new and experiencing it with him.  At first, you think he’s just entertaining you, following you while you discover new streets and attractions, but then he points out different things and you know he's looking, too.  There are large animals harnessed up and pulling carts for people to ride, there's an enormous spinning wheel set up in the distance, its colorful lights flickering out as soon as you ask what the fuck that is and why anyone would ever get inside one.

You eventually end up finishing your caf around the time he’s leading you back through a quiet, abandoned alleyway, and you hand him the empty cup to throw away in one of the trash cans on the corner.  The conversation has faded to a comfortable quiet and you don’t really need to ask—you go willingly, not requiring anything beyond his hands on you and the baby dozing in your arms.

“Come on, sweet girl,” he murmurs, gently sweeping you up into his.  You sigh, glad he’s giving you a moment to prepare yourself this time, holding the sleeping kid securely to your chest and resting your head on his shoulder.  “Let’s go home.”

After you’re comfortable, Din rockets up from the ground and climbs high up into the canvas sky.  He disappears with you and the baby into the pastel clouds above, making it back to the Razor Crest in probably about an hour, maybe less.  You and the baby do nothing more than climb into the comfy floor blankets while Din starts up the engines, and you think you’re dozing off together by the time he makes the pit stop to collect the crib and the jump into hyperspace.

You think he might shower?  You’re not sure—you just know he moves up behind you in bed at one point without any armor, burying his face in your hair while you cuddle the sleepy kid to your chest.  It’s dark in the hull, Din’s palms are bare and warm as they slide around the front of your body and he breathes you in, and there isn’t a single place that can touch you here, not a single place you’d rather be.

Home.

***

@followwhereshegoes​ Thank you for the stunning artwork! 💕To anyone interested in possibly doing an art collab in the future, please message me!!

[writingwithcolor]

Desexualized Mammy & Strong Black Woman, too busy for “frivolous love”

“Alyse” (Anon Submission) asked:

My science fiction story includes a black woman (Talia) who raises two children that aren’t her own and takes on two young adults as apprentices. One of the children she is raises has Arabic background and was taken into her home upon his father’s death (his mother’s whereabouts are unknown). She was a close friend of his father and the closest thing he had to a relative. The second child has mixed French-Latinx background and was taken in after becoming shipwrecked with no means by which to contact her people. Talia was the first non-hostile individual she encountered and one of the few who would so openly embrace a stranger. Since Talia is Master Medic (the highest medical authority in her community) she is training two apprentices (think residency) and eventually mentors the second child as well. She was once married and passionately in love but lost her husband to illness. In this setting, some technology we take for granted is inaccessible and violence against their people is commonplace. Most have experienced sudden loss. This particular loss was the catalyst that drove Talia into medicine- a desire to protect her loved ones and prevent others from experiencing similar tragedy. She is usually kind (though businesslike) but sometimes succumbs to a frigid, furious depression when, despite all her knowledge and determination, she can’t save someone. 

I worry that her maternal association with the two children (one of whom is an outsider) mires her in the mammy trope. On top of that, she hasn’t pursued romance since the death of her husband. I’ve considered giving her a romantic subplot but there are already so many characters to keep track of. Furthermore, I just can’t see her engaging in the frivolous pursuits of new love when she’s dealing with kids, students, and an extremely taxing career. 

In terms of race and culture in this story, practically every character can trace their ancestry back to populations displaced through war. Even Talia’s second child was shipwrecked during a botched evacuation from a military science lab. The people who live here have been isolated for generations and no longer have a real concept of their ancestry. Cultures have blended, new religions have formed, and many of our familiar racial/ethnic issues are forgotten. However, new and different but equally toxic ones have replaced them. In this way, Talia’s blackness doesn’t carry the same associations in her world as it would in ours. However, readers may still make these associations. Do you see any issues with her character that I could amend? 

So! You have:

A highly educated Black-coded woman (the highest medical authority in the community)

She raises two kids alone 

She also looks after two apprentices

She is widowed (not sure the race of the husband, was he Black?)

Having experienced heartbreaking love, Talia's drive to look after, protect and save people through medicine is a great motivation for the way she is. Her experiencing depression and taking losses seriously is also very human and is dynamic characterization. 

However, such characterization with Black women is prone to brush across several tropes. You have a Black woman who gives and protects, but what does she get in return? Who cares for her? 

Prioritize your Black character’s happiness

"I’ve considered giving her a romantic subplot but there are already so many characters to keep track of. Furthermore, I just can’t see her engaging in the frivolous pursuits of new love when she’s dealing with kids, students, and an extremely taxing career." 

Priorities, priorities. Is love a frivolous pursuit in her eyes, or yours? Because I strongly disagree. You probably don't mean to but you, as the author, having an excuse to NOT give the Black woman romance is showing that you do not think she's worth being loved. TV viewers and stans who are uncomfortable when Black women characters have relationships find similar excuses to explain away not wanting BW in relationships.

"She's too strong and independent for a man/relationship" 

"I liked her better alone." 

"It'll take away from her character."

“A romance doesn’t feel right for her”

These sorts of statements above are grounded in racialized misogyny. 

Relationships do not lessen the woman.

Relationships does not lessen Black women. 

Love

Whether that love is romantic, familial, or friendship, it can come in many forms. Give Talia love. Because Black women characters deserve it! Either one or all! 

Let her have a loyal best friend, a cat, and a girlfriend. Because why not? And not to downplay the love of children to parents, but please provide her love beyond what she gets on a maternal level from the children she looks after. 

The stories that Black women are in today severely lack love for us, so why add to the narrative of Black women being all work and no play, and too [insert excuse here] to be loved? 

Of course, you didn't provide all the details from your story, but I'm not seeing much of a balance from the struggle. She is a caretaker, teacher, doctor (or doctor-like figure). 

Her position and background in itself is okay. It's the Strong Black Woman being presented with seemingly no commentary that strikes me. 

Where is her team to help balance the weight of the world? 

Who takes care of her when she's depressed from another loss? 

What does she get in return from taking an emotional and physical toll to heal her community? 

Do those around her recognize all she does for them and offer their friendship? 

When does she get to relax and turn off the need to be everything for everybody?

Fitting love into a book with many characters

There are many books with several characters to keep track of. People tend to manage. Also, I'm sure some of those characters are in and/or out of relationships. Even stories that couldn’t be classified as romances have relationships of some sort. It’s unrealistic to have a ton of characters and none of them be in relationship(s) of some sort. Not when there’s so many forms of it and many sexualities. 

Friends, frenemies, enemies, romance, affairs.. Relationships make stories (and life) interesting. By no means do I think adding these dynamics harm your tale. And what’s one more for a hard-working Black woman who sacrifices a lot and clearly deserves a shoulder to lean on? And, if you use an existing character to be that friend, family, or lover, then you won’t need to pencil in another character.

For romance specifically - I think a misconception when it comes to including romance in stories is that they have to somehow take over the story. Romance does not have to bombard the plot nor be described in lavish detail. Not every story is a romance and those sort of details aren’t everyone’s style or things they’re comfortable with. A sentence or two establishing relationships does not take away from the story.And how those relationships look and affections expressed will vary based on the characters, sexuality, etc.

Not every character needs to have a deep level of detail. 

“Katie and Lisa, a newly engaged couple, walked into the meeting.”

“Jack and Jamie are a married couple in their 40s.” 

“The two met in college. After two months of blissful courtship, they eloped, eager to start their happily ever afters. Twenty years together, they were still blissfully in love and never too far from one another.”

Sentences like the above are enough for some characters. You don’t always need to put in paragraphs worth of relationship-establishing details or plot. 

When it comes to the characters whose love you would like to highlight, at least a bit, you still don’t have to go over the top.

Use subtle details. 

“As soon as Talia’s back was turned, he gave her a longing look before shaking his head and getting back to the patient.”

“He squeezed her hand before taking hold of the stethoscope.”

“She kissed her wife goodbye before racing out the door.”

“You mean the world to me.” he had said, holding her face. Those words stayed with her all day, making her heavy load light as a sack of feathers.

“She soaked his shirt with her tears and he just held her tight, saying nothing, silently holding her together.”

As for Talia specifically…

Talia having the mindset you described, as love being frivolous and not a priority, is understandable knowing her background (I just don't agree with you as the creator using this as a means to keep her alone. Whether she’s romantically alone or without close friendships). She has lost so much, and continues to experience loss with patients. This can be extremely traumatizing. I gave some examples of being subtle, so perhaps that will help with the burden of feeling a thick subplot of romance doesn’t fit in your story. 

And as Talia doesn’t strike me as someone who would go looking for companionship, what if she stumbles upon it without trying? Is there someone on the medical team that can offer her friendship? Someone who admires her and feels the urge to care for her that she feels the same for, or has pushed feelings down for? What happens when she can’t hold those feelings down anymore?

Takeaway

Talia deserves healthy love, even if she doesn’t believe it or feel she has time for it. That love can come in any and many forms, not necessarily romantically required, although it is a plus. A struggle-ridden novel is balanced by love, support and rest for characters that hold the weight of the world. If you do not, evaluate why you want to write Black characters in these struggle roles without at least a social commentary. 

~Mod Colette

[myundeadgayson]

Mystic Messenger, but it’s actually C!Quackity on the DSMP

 …C!Quackity treating the DSMP like a dating sim joke, except I take it literally and tell you all the datable characters and Good, Bad, and Neutral Ends like this Mystic Messenger. (Disclaimer Note: This is all based on C!Quackity’s lore. This is also all based around their characters, NOT the CC’s. I am also NOT encouraging you to ship any of these characters -- especially bc some DO NOT feel comfortable with that. Also, no Minors are included because NO. This has just been a running Quackity joke for a while, and the concept of C!Quackity trying to flirt with all of these characters to speedrun the server like a legit dating sim sounds just so funny to me. Please do not attack me.)

Main Character Routes:

Sapnap (Good End: “Burning Love”, Neutral End: “I Love You, But Not Like That”, Bad End: “Twice Burned”) — can be connected to Karl’s Route

Karl Jacobs (Good End: ”Forever and Always”, Neutral End: “Friendzoned”, Bad End: “When Time Runs Out”) — can be connected to Sapnap’s Route 

Schlatt (Good End: “Alone, but Better”, Neutral End: “As the World Caves In”, Bad End: “Yes, Mr. President”)

Advanced Character Routes (only accessible after all Main Routes are completed):

Wilbur Soot (Good End: ”Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust”, Neutral End: “Two Sides of the Same Coin”, Bad End: “Enemies to Enemies”)

Technoblade (Good End: ”Tame the Blade”, Neutral End: “Enemies to... Allies?”, Bad End: “Dental Appointment”)

Karlnapity (Advanced Version): (Good End: “It’s About Time!”, Neutral End: “Only Time Will Tell”, Bad End: “...Who?”)

Secret Character Routes (only accessible after all routes above are completed):

Eret (Good End: “Flirt with the Traitor”, Neutral End: “You Need Friends, I Need Therapy”, Bad End: “Never Meant to Be”)

BadBoyHalo (Good End: “Dance with the Demon”, Neutral End: “...Sapnap’s Your What?”, Bad End: “An Eggsellent Ending, but a New Beginning”)

Bonus Route (only accessible when reaching halfway through Advanced Routes; technically a Bad End):

Philza Minecraft (??? End: Dilf Hunter Achievement: Become a Stepdad)

These are just the routes I’ve come up with for fun, and you can kind of see how a lot of them turn out by the names asjhdgksaj. (I don’t mind explaining what happens in any of them if you wanna know.) ** For anyone that doesn’t know Mystic Messenger by the way, there are 3 Main Endings (Good, Neutral, Bad) for Every Character, a True Neutral End, a True Bad End, and some other Bad Ends along the way if you start Good, then turn Bad towards a Character you’re pursuing.

But also, since this is Quackity… Him balancing out affection towards Karl and Sapnap, gets the Karlnapity Route, which is technically also a Main Route.

I will say though… Karl would probably have secret bonus options in the Advanced Routes that become available that involve Quackity finding out Karl’s a Time Traveler (something he discovers vaguely in Karl’s Main Route), but it leads to Quackity finding out more about Karl’s Time Travelling— the way Karl dies each time, the Dopplegangers, the Inbetween, etc.

Upon discovering all these things and finishing Karl’s Route in Advanced as a Good End, Secret Endings become Available to him. (This is where we’re gonna get SERIOUS, just so you know. We’re living like the Dream Daddy Simulator and there’s more lore than you realize.) More about the Secret Endings under the cut with the actual hidden lore because this post is about to be LONG.

These Secret Endings actually include Quackity witnessing Karl’s Time Traveling firsthand… Also, potentially Quackity traveling WITH Karl through time and into the Inbetween.

Upon him finishing this Secret Ending (which ends with him calming Karl through everything and a hopeful ending of him promising to help Karl to learn more about Karl’s abilities and save Karl’s memories), another route is open.

There’s Three Secret Endings that reveal themselves in total. That was only the first. The final two are connected, but the third being revealed depends on Quackity getting all the Main Bad Ends.

The Second Secret End is directly tied to Karl’s Bad End and the Fiancés’ Bad End in Advanced where in both, Karl forgets Quackity and Quackity lives alone in Las Nevadas.

In the OG Good Ending with Karl, they get married and stay El Rapids with Sapnap (romantic or platonically). In the Good Advanced with Karl, Quackity builds Las Nevadas and Karl almost forgets him, but Quackity comes home and finds out what happened.

The Second Secret Ending is what happens after Karl’s Advanced Bad Ending where he forgets Quackity. This Quackity, who’s chosen not to find out why he wasn’t invited to Kinoko, finds Sapnap struggling enough between helping Karl, managing Kinoko, and everything with Dream. Karl is gone again. Quackity, though still angry with the two, decides to help find Karl.

What ends up happening though is Quackity and Sapnap discover The Library (something Quackity discovers only in the Good Advanced End). They search around and find The Books. Obviously, the two start freaking out until Karl appears. This Karl isn’t their Karl. He looks the same, but there’s a noticeable white streak in his hair. Another thing is that he remembers Quackity.

It’s discovered in that moment that this “Dating Sim” situation with Quackity being able to restart through every path (though he fully never remembers any of them once the paths end) is the work of Time Travel. It’s Karl sending him back in time to make things right. The Karl in their timeline will only continue to get worse and lose all his memories. He NEEDS his memories, otherwise Karl can’t fix the timeline. There’s a huge threat that is going to be showing itself. Everyone WILL be doomed if Karl can’t repair the timeline, however, this Karl can’t fix it for him. Whatever threat that is going to come after them in the near future is following this Karl’s trail too closely. If this Karl tried to do it, he’d be leading the threat back in time with him and things would be doomed even sooner. He can only send back one, which is how Quackity gets chosen. Even though Quackity protests, Sapnap insists that it be Quackity to go. Sapnap can’t leave. If he did, he would be abandoning their timeline’s Karl, along with George and Kinoko. There’s a small argument between Quackity and Sapnap over this, but Sapnap admits he just Can’t. The timeline might change, but he couldn’t live with himself imagining Karl coming home without someone there to remind him that it is Home. Or George finally waking up and Sapnap not being able to be there. Quackity might have Las Nevadas to worry about, but Sapnap has the weight of two of the most important people in their lives on his shoulders. He can’t do it. Future Karl assures Quackity that he’d be good for this, too. That past Karl NEEDS him. His Fiancé NEEDS him. And this way, Quackity can help Sapnap! In the end, Quackity agrees. He reluctantly agrees to go. Future Karl just grins at him and hands him a pocket watch that in future runs, Quackity will be more aware of having because he’s actually had it in every route that wasn’t Karl’s Advanced Route. Right as Future Karl is teaching Quackity how to use it, the portal behind Karl turns a sickly neon green and yellow. Karl looks panicked at the sight. He quickly starts ushering Quackity to leave. NOW. Right as Quackity does, he just manages to see a glimpse of a hooded being stepping through the portal. He’s gone before he can see who it is. The Final Secret Ending becomes available.

The Final Secret Ending is ENTIRELY based on Quackity getting to all the Bad Endings for the Mains and all Karl’s Endings. That’s because the Final Secret Ending is, of course, about Dream. Up until this point, Dream has been doing his typical Dream things. In the Main Routes, he’s more of an idle character for Quackity because Quackity’s not directly involved with him yet. In the Advanced, Dream has reached the point of being imprisoned, thus Quackity is incredibly aware of everything Dream’s done. Somehow, this Dream eventually finds a way to escape the prison. He becomes more powerful upon getting released and somehow finds out about Karl’s powers, leading him down the road of wanting to understand him so that he himself can “fix the server”. Karl can’t allow Dream to tamper with the timeline because it’ll ruin everything. Dream, of course, finds a way into getting into Karl’s library and trying to find the necessary information to do it himself. Insert more plot leading to Dream eventually chasing Karl through the portals to stop Karl from reaching a timeline where they can change the story, and thus enters Quackity. In this Final Secret Ending, Quackity discovers everything that happening because Dream appears before Karl in The Library and reveals everything. Karl arrives late, just as this version of Dream is about to actually kill Quackity because, you know, personal reasons, but also Dream’s figured out Karl’s plan. Right as Dream’s about to kill Quackity though, Karl manages at the last second to shove Quackity the pocket watch, but Karl ends up getting killed in the process. Quackity has no time to mourn before he wakes back up in the past. And that’s all the Karl routes (which technically along with Sapnap) make for the True Endings! So there’s all of that story! ^u^ Definitely way more than I considered plotting out... But ya know,,, I fucking love Mystic Messenger and I love C!Quackity lore, along with C!Karl... So this started as a joke, but now you get lore to it! So please enjoy this brainrot! I put WAYYYY too much thought into it ajsgalkdjghlkd

[lovecolibri]

I know people say we shouldn't baby buck too much,but that scene in that truck seemed super out of place with all those L and Chim comments. Like Chim has worked with her a few times, since when does he have this level of comfort and banter with her to say that? I'm kind of tired of those jokes too, they only seem to be directed at Buck as far as I remember 🤷. The only reaction that wasn't out of place was Bobby's reaction to the thing from ep11. I guess that's what happens when you introduce a character in #that way and everyone hates her so you have to cut out 90% of her scenes. The familial banter doesn't translate

Listen, I am SO pissed about that truck scene I can't even. What TF was 5x05 all about, or literally everything about Buck’s arc if everyone, including Buck, is totally chill just casually joking about how if he makes a mistake he’s the one getting kicked out of the family because they prefer the new girl. Like?!?!?!?! WHAT?!?! Buck literally sued the city because they taped Lena’s last name over his and he felt like he was getting kicked out of the family. He got into a pissing contest with Eddie because he thought the crew all liked him better. And yes, Buck has grown, but we JUST saw in 5x05 him thinking it was his fault the team was so fractured so he was going to leave because he’s currently still working through those abandonment issues. Hell his arc in season 5 was about clinging to a relationship and a person that made him miserable and was the anthesis of everything he needed in a partner because he didn’t want to lose anyone else. So to end the season trying to keep pushing this pointless character by having everyone agree that they like her more than Buck was such a slap in the face to his character. But knowing that KR wrote and directed the episode I can’t say I’m surprised. She’s proven time and time again she’s willing to throw his character under the bus to push her self-insert characters. Evan Buckley deserves better.

And look, we’ve all stumbled across fics where everyone in Buck’s life is just so mean to him and then have to grovel when he almost dies, OR where he can’t take a step without at least thee people holding his hand. So yeah, there are some people who are willing to demonize everyone to baby Buck, or turn him into someone who can’t do a single thing by himself. But that doesn’t mean that ANY discussion of Buck’s feelings, especially on choices made by the people in his life that directly affect him, is “babying” him. It’s not “babying” Buck to point out that his ENTIRE character arc is about abandonment issues, feeling like a ghost in his own life, feeling like no matter how hard he tries he’s never enough for people to want to keep him around and the first time he makes a mistake, they are going to leave him. 

That conversation literally hit so hard on something that is a keystone of Buck’s arc and KR played it for a cheap joke to push a character that wasn’t needed that she wedged in anyway, and she’s pissed everyone hated. 

I doubt we’ll hear a big announcement about it if it does happen, but I am manifesting her no longer being the co-showrunner. And look, she’s not a totally terrible writer for the show! She’s written episodes with great moments and funny dialogue! I even enjoyed a lot of the finale as an episode unto itself (fun for a filler episode, but terrible as a finale). But if season 5 has shown us anything it’s that she’s not good at pacing like, at ALL. Which is fine! Not everyone is cut out to do every job. I’m not saying she should be fired from the show, I’m saying she’s proven she’s not great at being a showrunner, and her idea of what the show should be is clearly not the same as what the show used to be, or what made it stand out from other shows and made people fall in love with it. And that’s not just me hating on the season, that is all the articles and reviews that mention the pacing issues, it’s the mess that multiple people associated with the show including KR herself said 5a was, it’s the over a million viewers the show has dropped, it’s everyone talking so much about “what happened to the show, it doesn’t feel like the show I fell in love with” on SM that they released a promo for 5b specifically talking about getting back to the way the show used to be! Something has to change, and since we know what changed initially that made the show Like This, hopefully they re-evaluate that.

[piccolina-mina]

Our girl is thriving this season, but what the fuck is this Wyatt plot? I need your thinks about this one. I just knew you'd be six posts in on this by now. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

*sighs* For fk's sake, nonny. I don't even like talking about it because I get ranty.

What do you want me to say? Honestly, everything you can imagine I would feel about this, you're probably right. Because you know, I'm that b*tch always getting ranty about racism and stuff.

In short, I hate it. I think it's unnecessary, tone-deaf, random, pointless, lowkey offensive, and illogical. I legitimately find it triggering AF. And it doesn't make sense.

It's Unnecessary. There is a fraction of a chance that it will connect to something more significant, but even if that's the case, I'm confident that end result or connection could've taken place without this random reform racist Wyatt storyline. This series has struggled enough as it is properly utilizing all of its primary characters as well as providing them with decent screentime and arcs. It literally makes no sense to spend any of that time that could be used elsewhere on primary characters on a recurring guest star.

This isn't actually about Rosa, it's about Wyatt. Following up on the previous point, this specific arc caters to Wyatt. Revolves around Wyatt. Rosa is just a passive participant and vessel for this Wyatt storyline. So again, the arc itself is about a recurring character. At least when they did something similarly bringing back Cam to siphon time and arcs away from its main cast they found ways to implement it better and tied her to multiple main characters, so it wasn't a total waste.

The intended Wyatt/Rosa parallel is illogical. I know what they're intending to do with this storyline, drawing parallels between Rosa's experience coming back from the dead after ten years and trying to make sense of that and atone for things before and having this second chance to make things right and go down the right path and so forth and Wyatt losing his memory and his racist ways and having to reconcile with who he was to who he can be and all of that. I understand the concept they're trying to sell. It just doesn't work. Rosa's addiction is not equivalent to Wyatt's racism and violence. Her mental illness isn't either. It's dangerous to invite the comparasions with this storyline.

It's not successful redemption. True redemption is Wyatt knowing and remembering his actions and then trying to atone for them. It's not the convenience of amnesia wiping out his memory only giving him distance from his actions rather than really facing up to them. Because of the amnesia, to Wyatt, it's like he's hearing about another person. It's a cop out. He doesn't Actually have to do the work to redeem himself or atone or learn or grow. IF we're supposed to compare it to Rosa, she knew what she did and remembers and knows how she hurt her loved ones or whatever and she's actively trying to make amends for that as part of her program... a program that Wyatt isn't working or anything BTW.

They've contradicted themselves too much and are rewriting their own work and thus twisting everything up just to make this storyline work and it still doesn't. The timeline is all fkd up... what they established already all of it..The Longs were racist before Kate's death. Kate was racist. To suggest that a 10+ amnesiac blackout clean slates and erases all of Wyatt's racism is just wrong. As in it literally doesn't even make any sense. That is not how the amnesia works but they keep playing both sides of it trying to make it work. To sell us what they're claiming, he would have to have ALL of his memories wiped and have forgotten who he was completely.

Wyatt is behaving like he's shocked by racism in this town but they're also trying to argue that he was born into it. Wyatt was surrounded by racists and his friends come from racist families but he's acting like the very concept of him ever being ingratiated in it is some huge surprise. Wyatt looks affronted by things like Confederate flags. Wyatt being steeped in and surrounded by racism predates his amnesia period.

Kyle mentioned that line about Wyatt putting Whites Only on water fountains, and it sounded like a school prank. It also sounded like something Kyle was reminding Rosa of as if she was alive when that incident happened. Therefore, Wyatt was doing racist stuff before she died. Kyle would've been out of school by then so how else would he know that or why would he bother retaining it?

IF Wyatt and Rosa really were friends before (which holy retcon), then it makes no real sense that he would get psychopathically angry about his "friend" who does drugs getting into a car accident with his sister who does drugs. He would've mourned them both not jumped to severe racism and violence. But both he and Jasmine's family (who are MIA for all of this) did that... jumped to racism. So was Wyatt indoctrinated by his family or indoctrinated by message boards and shit? And if Wyatt and Rosa were friends than why was Kate such a racist bitch to Rosa?

They're backdrafting history JUST to make this storyline that we don't need with a character who isn't even a main one to work.

By not actually addressing that Wyatt has to unlearn racism and giving him an out through amnesia, there is the very realistic issue of that latent racism to come out at any given time. What happens when he's drunk? What happens when he's really angry at a POC?

Tying Wyatt's redemption with his clear affection for Rosa is again dangerous and irresponsible. I know we would all like to think that love is the way and through love it can heal racism, but that puts the responsibility on the disenfranchised person to be "lovable." Because if Wyatt WAS friends with Rosa once then that means the second Rosa did something unlovable she was just another *insert racist slur of choosing* right? It means that there's a possibility that if his feelings for Rosa dwindle or things go sideways in some way there's a chance that he could revert back to those racist ways. Loving Rosa(linda) and pinning all of his wanting to be better on her because of her makes his actively learning to be anti-racist conditional. Right now he's not doing this for him. He's doing it because of Rosa.

This entire storyline has placed the burden of forgiveness on Rosa, his victim. Without him ever having to actually make amends. It's this turn the other cheek BS that means there's nothing too big or harmful that can't result in forgiveness. It relies on Rosa and all that she represents to extend an inhumane level of mercy and grace to their tormentor and oppressor that was never once extended to them. It's such a consistent and problematic thing projected on disenfranchised parties that ONLY benefits the majority and makes them feel good. It's a narrative of meeting someone halfway when the playing field was uneven and the minorities are in actuality doing more work and making a longer trek. Halfway and meeting in the middle only works if both sides were even. They are not. It's the reaching across the aisle both sidesms when one side was clearly and actively more harmful than the other and than calling that peace and equity. It is not.

This storyline was meant to scintillate some viewers with this "what if" notion and teach others a meaningful lesson or be this poorly thought out gateway to exploring a complex storyline but it came at the expense of other demographics who actively have to deal with racist crap. And because of their problematic approach what is simply "just entertainment" to some who has the luxury of not having to think about it beyond that, is just gross and insanely triggering and uncomfortable to others. The others who deal with the reality of the subject at hand.

They wrote themselves into a corner with Wyatt so trying to dig him out of that no matter the cost or logic is absurd. This storyline could've worked better if Wyatt's racism didn't also include conscious, constant, extreme violence. But they spent all of this time making Wyatt the face of violent racism and now are trying to redeem him with no real effort. He wasn't just using slurs or making microaggressions. He wasn't some insensitive or aloof white person. He is a murderer. He has killed people. He technically murdered Liz in cold-blood. He knew she was in the crashdown when he shot up the place. The lights were still on. He beat up Arturo so badly he nearly killed him well after his friends even stopped. He attacked and intended to kill Rosa. And his handiwork was a constant thing, enough for Jenna to comment on it. And now we're supposed to ignore all of that because he has amnesia and has puppy dog eyes?

The fact that we can entertain (and for some succeed) Wyatt in all of his hot white dudeness' redemption after everything he has done slips into the inherent racism of society in the first place and is enraging. Because systemically and culturally and inherently society will bend over backwards to find a way to absolve a hot white guy no matter his actions. Flint and Noah couldn't get this type of redemption... So their intended storyline about evolving from racism STILL plays into the racist structures set up in society.

And because some people like it, there's this slippery territory of NO everyone who genuinely enjoys this aren't racist for enjoying it. But yes, this entire storyline and how it is playing out is at the very least racially insensitive.

In order for this storyline to work they would actually have to show Wyatt doing the work. They don't have enough time to dedicate to such a delicate storyline. It's been a C and D filler storyline with 45 second to a minute scenes. That's not enough time to explore this properly. We would've needed to see Wyatt returning home from the hospital. We would've needed to see Wyatt with his friends and it not feeling right and his discomfort. We would've needed to see Wyatt going through his yearbook and googling himself and the horror and disgust he felt. We would need to see this through his eyes. But we didn't have the time for that and we wouldn't have anyway because he's not a main character. We only get Wyatt through Rosa's eyes and they haven't even dedicated enough time to that for it to work. Rosa isn't conflicted at all. She didn't struggle to forgive him. She was reduced to a school girl with a crush and an insane level of grace and they just threw that at us with no buildup whatsoever. I don't know where Rosa's head is and how she got to this to place. Not really. And the only thing working about this is the chemistry between two actors who are allegedly dating so of course there's chemistry.

It literally feels like another instance of a favorite actor being shoehorned into a storyline just for the hell of it. Just because they didn't want to let Dylan go or something. Just to give him something else to do.

[montrealmadison]

drink deeply

or, as they say at samwell, “penitus potes.” shitty gives the toast at jack and bitty’s wedding. for @zimbitsweddingofficial and day two of zimbits wedding week: the wedding itself!

just for fun, a draft version of the beginning of this fic with lardo, ransom, and holster’s “helpful” edits can be found via google doc here. hope y’all enjoy! <3

Good evening, everyone! On behalf of Jack and Eric, thank you all so much for being here tonight, and welcome to what could very well be the most highly anticipated wedding reception of 2019. I mean, this party was planned by the likes of Suzanne Bittle and Alicia Zimmermann. We are in for a treat, folks.

Before we get to all that, I’d also like to extend a particular welcome to those in attendance who are part of the playing, coaching, and/or office staff of the Providence Falconers. Glad you could all make it this evening; I know this past week was a little bit busy for you guys.

[Insert appropriate pause and gesture to the punch bowl, which on closer inspection is actually—oh yeah—the Stanley Cup the Falcs won three days ago. Hold for inevitable applause, general hysteria, and/or hooting/hollering from Tater.]

For those of you who don’t know me, I’ve been trying to decide whether I should introduce myself by my first name, which will inevitably get me mocked by my friends until the end of time, or by my nickname, which will definitely scandalize anyone who has not spent a significant amount of time around twenty-year-old guys who play hockey. However, as I look around the room, I’m realizing that most of you probably either raised, spent significant time around, or were once a twenty-year-old guy who played hockey. To the rest of you, I am profoundly sorry.

So, hi! I’m Shitty, and I’m Jack’s best man.

read more below or on ao3

Being someone’s best man, as I’ve realized over the last few months, should really come with a playbook or an instruction manual or something, because it’s a task unlike any other you’ll ever take on. In addition to being a friend, you have to be a confidant, an expert at bachelor-party debauchery (I think my college resume definitely prepared me for this part) and someone who’s not afraid to step in to make last-minute decisions so the grooms don’t have to. You also have to do all of these things without getting fired from your job or stepping on anyone’s toes, up to and including: the couple getting married, the other people in the wedding party, the grooms’ parents, the wedding planner, and most importantly, Moomaw, whose word is law around here. 

(Seriously. She made the pie tonight, people. Bow down to her.)

But as much as the role can feel a little bit like you’re being thrown in at the deep end, it also definitely comes with its perks. Tonight, I have both the honor and the challenge of somehow summarizing how much I love Jack and Eric in a speech that is heartfelt and witty yet also brief so that we can get to the aforementioned pie as quickly as possible. If you’re still following me here, that is a tall order—but here goes nothing!

I met Jack Zimmermann on our first day of freshman year at Samwell, during the bright, hot summer of 2011. I was participating in the time-honored tradition of moving into a dorm on the third floor of a building with no elevator and no air conditioning in the middle of August. It builds character, or so the good folks in Samwell administration probably tell themselves. Anyway, athletes got to move in early for preseason, so I was expecting to be one of the only guys on the floor for at least a couple days. I was just carrying the last box into my room when the door next to mine opened and—well, you can probably guess who walked out.

Now, I grew up in Boston, which means I also grew up around hockey culture. I’d heard the news that Jack was coming to Samwell, so I knew who he was when he stepped into the hall in that same vague way that you kind of-sort of recognize celebrities hustling down the street or through the airport with their sunglasses on. And he gave me that same vibe—“I know you know who I am, and I’d very much like not to be bothered about it.”

Here is something that will not shock you if you know us: Jack was the first friend I made in college. Here is something that might shock you if you know us: That definitely doesn’t mean we were friends at first. By his own admission, Jack wasn’t at Samwell to make friends at all. He told me, much later, that he was only planning to go to play hockey, get his life back on track, and keep his head down as much as possible.

So in retrospect, maybe it was an unlucky thing for Jack that he ran into the one person who wasn’t going to let him do that.

Because no matter who you are or where you’re from, freshman year of college breeds a unique kind of terror I’ve never felt anywhere else. There’s a lot of pressure to completely remake yourself, to become the person you maybe never could have been in your hometown. By coming to Samwell, I wanted to be a different kind of kid than the one that Andover had raised. Jack wanted to be a different kind of kid than the one he’d spent twenty years telling himself he had to be. As much as neither of us wanted to admit it, we both wanted similar things out of our college experience, and we needed a support system to do that. And so, however begrudging the two of us were about it at first, we started to bond more and more.

It wasn’t always easy. For one thing, my idea of a good time was a lot louder than Jack’s—who enjoyed such scintillating pursuits as “watching golf” and “going to bed at a reasonable hour”, neither of which were quite in my vocabulary at the ripe old age of eighteen. Also, if it’s before six in the morning, he has a hard time remembering to speak English, which used to make for a lot of stilted conversations between the two of us as we walked to early morning practice. (On a completely unrelated note, the first and probably only thing I ever learned in Québécois is how to swear.)

I don’t remember the exact tipping point at which Jack and I really became friends; I think it was more of a quiet acknowledgment that we liked having each other around, that we balanced each other out in ways that neither of us initially knew we needed. What I do know is that, slowly but surely, I started to get glimpses of the Jack that exists off the ice. And so began one of the most extraordinary journeys of my life, because the only thing crazier than knowing Jack Zimmermann is actually knowing Jack.

Here are some things that I’ve learned in the process: He’s on his third pair of neon yellow running shoes, which he buys specifically because the color makes him happy. Before either of us tried Eric’s pies, the only thing that could make him cheat on a meal plan was a sleeve of Double Stuf Oreos. (Don’t ask him how to eat them correctly unless you’re interested in a twenty-minute speech on exactly how they have to be pulled apart.) And he loves Captain America, although it is the opinion of this best man that America’s ass has nothing on his hockey butt. Have you seen that thing? It has Internet fans in at least two different countries. 

But I digress.

In our sophomore year we lived next to each other again, by choice instead of by chance, in what I can only describe as the pinnacle of American college living: the Samwell Men’s Hockey Haus. We used to pull the comforter off of one of our beds and climb out onto the roof and clear off the snow so we could share the blanket, look up at the stars, and listen to the bass thumping through the wall of the house next door. On nights when other things felt confusing, this one part of my life was clear. There’s something about sitting out under the open sky that just makes it easier to talk to a guy, you know? 

Some nights the conversations we had were funny. Some nights they were serious. Some nights we said nothing at all, just sat secure in the knowledge that someone cared enough to exist alongside us for a little while. There was always an unspoken agreement between us on nights like these: I got your back. For me, Jack’s friendship became a rock, a refuge. It’s something that I came to depend on that year and still do to this day.

As for the content of those late-night conversations—well, some things do have to stay between friends. I’m sure Jack will agree, especially because he has so graciously allowed me to get up here and lovingly roast him just a little bit.

So let’s skip ahead again, to yet another August, the start of our junior year, and the arrival on the scene of one Eric Bittle. This kid burst into our ranks like a ray of Southern sunshine and turned pretty much everything upside down in the process. In the first five minutes of being in the Haus, he somehow made us a pie? Folks, I'm not kidding, it was the best thing I’ve ever eaten. We were a bunch of guys who didn’t know what we were missing until we had it, and let me tell you, it was one hell of a semester after that. In pretty short order we had curtains on the windows and baked goods on the counters, and Samwell Men’s Hockey started to become not only a team but a family.

That was off the ice, at least. On it, things were a little more complicated. As our dear friend and former goalie John Johnson said to me, Jack and Eric hadn’t gone through their character development yet—whatever that means. 

Take our third or fourth practice with the full team that year, for example. It had gone… uh. Poorly, would be a word. Later that night I heard some rustling on the roof outside, and God knows I was willing to do just about anything but my homework—so I stuck my head out the window and there was Jack, watching the stars. I asked him if he wanted a buddy, and he said alright, so I slid out and sat down next to him.

That was pretty usual for us at this point. What wasn’t usual was the topic of conversation. The first thing Jack said to me was, “Bittle’s gonna get eaten alive when our schedule starts.” (Remember, people, they’re married now!) The second was, “I want to help.”

Here’s another thing about Jack: Underneath the veneer is a guy who just cares so intensely it’d shock you if you knew nothing else about him. It shocked me a little that day. I think it even shocked him to admit it, to the point where I had to say, “Jack, it’s not a criminal offense to care about other people. Even if it feels like you’re doing it for yourself.”

So he helped. He offered an olive branch, and Bits took him up on it. I’d hear the two of them get up in the morning, hours before the rest of us had to be at Faber, for checking practice. None of the rest of us ever knew exactly what went down, but one thing was for sure—Eric put in a ton of work to overcome some of the fears that had followed him to college. He got better, and Jack relaxed. The two of them really started working as a team, and things started looking up from there.

The day that they told us they were dating was pretty amazing. Eric is so full of light no matter how bleak a situation may look, but that day he was literally almost glowing. And I’ve seen Jack in moments after victory and loss, at his best and at his worst. But I’ve never seen a Jack who was so happy, possessed of such confidence in a decision he’d made, as I saw him that day at brunch. And that’s when I knew this relationship was really special. 

From there, many of you know the story. You watched it play out on ESPN and social media and the front pages of every single gossip magazine on the supermarket shelves. But if you’re sitting here with us tonight, you also watched it play out between Jack and Eric themselves. You’ve watched them handle expectations as a united front. You’ve watched their unfailing dedication to each other while they navigate the pressure of being some pretty big firsts. You know that, behind the scenes, these are two incredibly genuine people who  bring out the best in each other and are dedicated to doing that every single day.

In the last four years, I’ve watched Eric become self-possessed and confident because he was given the space to do so. In the last six years, I’ve watched Jack grow from a kid with a chip on his shoulder and something to prove to a guy who finally believes that he deserves all the good things the world has given him and then some. If you take nothing else away from this speech, I want you to know this: I’m incredibly proud to call myself a friend to both of them.

Jack, Bits, you’re always gonna be my brothers, my best friends, and two of the finest damn men I’ve ever had the pleasure to know. I wish you both a long and happy marriage. Take care of each other, be good to each other, and never forget where you started—as a team.

So please join me in raising your glasses, everyone, and as they say at Samwell—penitus potes to Jack and Eric!

[kateis-cakeis]

This analysis is specifically for this anon

HELLO, Ghostbur did some SHOUTING today! Do you know how amazing that is? Do you know how long I’ve been craving that?! HOLY FUCK

Hi... Let’s reset. Ghostbur shouting at Phil was a big step, and even though he forgot all about it, it shows a lot about Ghostbur and what he cares about, and that in turn shows why he’s changed his mind on being brought back to life.

(All these quotes are from Wilbur’s stream, First Time Ghostbur Live: 6th Jan)

When he begins talking to Phil, he’s... calm.

“Why- Why did you- Why did you blow up L’Manberg?” - (17:19)

The way Ghostbur says this with such sadness, such sorrow. It hurts.

I MEAN LOOK AT THE POOR GUY! He’s emotionally destroyed by it. Because of Friend, because Friend’s dead, again, and we know what that does to Ghostbur, it hurts him. Because he loves Friend. (Which suggests that canon deaths in the Dream SMP are real, painful deaths, which is why they’re so serious in their nature.)

And then he shouts, and he makes Phil listen (after he tries to make the excuse that Friend has infinite canon lives like that makes it better):

“You knew Friend was in your house! You knew! Stop! Stop! Stop! You knew Friend was in your house! You knew everything everyone owned was in this town!” - (17:39)

This line shows how Ghostbur is thinking, him putting his head in his hands, him shouting, it shows his emotional state. He’s full of anguish and pain, sadness and anger.

But what does it suggest he’s thinking? That he puts value on people’s belongings. (Including books, because like rip to them, that one hurts.) Friend is a physical being, something he loves, but he applies that same love and value to what people owned in L’Manberg. 

It causes him great pain to think of this, that those things are gone, without ever getting them back (a bit like death, huh).

Then we get this line, where he’s completely done with Phil’s explanation:

“I don’t- I don’t- I don’t- I don’t want to listen- I don’t want to hear what you have to say. I don’t want to have to hear what you have to say. I- I- I’ve read the history books, Phil. I’ve read the history books. You- You- You slayed the dragon, you slayed Alivebur. You were the- You- You are the St George of the Dream SMP. We understand, everyone understands that, Phil. But, look what you’ve done. How can you look at this and still see yourself as a hero. Sending a message, Phil. Sending a message?” - (17:58)

So, that’s a big quote, and every single part of it is so important.

His repetition shows his struggle with his emotions. But he makes the point again that he’s read the history books (no one else, but that’s a separate thing entirely). He knows what Phil did, hell! He remembers it! He sees Alivebur’s death as a good thing, and the parallel to him being a dragon and Phil being St George, where do I even start with that???

Because dragons in legends hoard things, right? So you could see Alivebur’s hoard as L’Manberg itself, that’s his gold. And Phil is the hero for slaying the dragon who wanted to keep L’Manberg from anyone else (which shows how Ghostbur doesn’t remember Alivebur’s final motivations for blowing it up).

But Ghostbur understands, he’s telling Phil that everyone understands why he killed Alivebur, only to point out that the destruction of L’Manberg removes the title of hero from him. He can’t be a hero when he caused so much destruction. (At least Alivebur knew he was the bad guy. Phil and Techno think they’re in the right, that they’re heroes.)

He specifically calls out Phil’s wording of sending a message. Ghostbur can’t understand that, because it doesn’t make sense. Sending a message. I get the implication of what Ghostbur is suggesting, that sending a message makes Phil the villain, makes him as bad, if not worse than Alivebur.

At least Alivebur had cause! Sending a message is pure evil, through and through. (but that’s just my opinion :P)

“So you make me suffer? I- I don’t know what Alivebur did, and I’m really trying to remember. But I know what I did, and I just wrote books. I built- Remember the lanterns we used to make? I built them. I- I built a house for people- I- I set up this area- I built this town just like I built Logstedshire, and I watched them both blow up. And I didn’t- I- I didn’t- I didn’t hurt anyone, and yet I’m the one who pays. Tommy didn’t even live here, Tommy didn’t have a house here. I sowed the seeds of peace, and yet I’m the one who pays for war.”  - (18:47)

I picked out this screenshot specifically because he’s making this expression as he talks about the lanterns, the anguish in his expression, the way he’s looking out at L’Manberg, head slightly tilted up towards the lanterns. It shows how Ghostbur holds onto the good memories, but he feels the deep sadness of building up L’Manberg again, making it look nice, houses, the main area, he built that town more than anyone else, gave it a personality, only to lose it.

And he feels that, as well as the pain of losing Logstedshire. He makes the point that he hasn’t hurt anyone. And he hasn’t. Not physically anyway, the only damage he’s done as Ghostbur is the pain others feel knowing he doesn’t remember the bad. 

And this line, this 30 second line, it shows so much. It shows how Ghostbur still feels how Tommy never even lived in L’Manberg (I know he had that house under Ranboo’s but he never really lived there like the others). It shows that Ghostbur feels like he’s paying the most because he built it, because he lived there, because he had the history books, because.... “Everything for L’Manberg. For L’Manberg, my L’Manberg.” (Wilbur’s Amangus with new and old friends :): 1:46:29, 24th Nov) 

And he’s right, he set up peace. He called out Tubbo, he made sure to remind him of the values. He made his point to Phil that L’Manberg wasn’t doing things right. He made the same point to Ranboo. He tried. He read the history books, he kept telling people! But they didn’t listen, and in the end... he paid for it the most because he thought he had done enough, but it’s not enough. With L’Manberg it never is... was, I suppose.

“I know I’m forgetful, I know I’m an amnesiac, and I know I’m the comic relief in all of your stories, but I still feel this, I still feel things. And I try my best to make sure no one else feels it... And I just.” - (19:32)

This is Ghostbur’s turning point for the quote that comes after this.

You know what all of this is? All these quotes, Ghostbur making someone listen to HIM for once. All people have done since Ghostbur has been around is shout at him, belittle him, treat him like he’s stupid, patronise him, go against all of his wishes. Finally, this talk with Phil allowed him to take control again and speak his own mind without being beat down, he was loud, not quiet, he even banged his fist, something Alivebur did a lot.

He had his fire.

But this line... He’s calling people out, calling them all out. He knows he’s forgetful, an amnesiac, the comic relief in their stories (is that why he’s inserting himself back in the narrative? to put himself back in, to take control of his story again?)

And he makes the point that he feels this, he still feels things! And why would he make this point? For what I said above. He’s only ever been beaten down by others, or patronised. He’s reminding Phil that he’s still very much a being that can feel, he isn’t devoid of emotion, in fact he’s full of ‘em. All the emotions, especially sadness.

You can see it in his expressions too, the way he puts his head in his hands, the way he covers his mouth. He’s full of pain.

His goal though is to make sure no one else feels what he does - the sadness - which makes sense to why he hands out Blue like it’s gone out of fashion. It may be his unhealthy coping mechanism for his depression, but he’s trying his best. He just wants people to be happy.

But, as I said, this is his turning point. He hangs up on Phil and thinks for a moment, in complete silence, nothing but the sounds of the surviving campfires in the apiary to keep him company. He realises that Alivebur needs to come back, he knows that in being forgetful, he isn’t helping people like he wants to.

He knows as Ghostbur he can never make any progress (especially since he forgot the entire conversation with Phil). 

And so...

“I take it back, Tommy. Tommy, I take it back. I’m burning in the rain right now, and I just- Tommy, I want you to bring me back to life.” - (20:07)

“Tommy, I know- I know I said- Tommy, I know how I said I didn’t want- I didn’t want to be brought back to life because I didn’t want to- Because that would mean me as Ghostbur would stop existing. But I want- I want you to bring me back to life. I don’t want to be Ghostbur anymore.” - (22:12)

These quotes are so important. They show how Ghostbur’s mind has changed from:

“Hey, Tommy, I was having a think about it, and I don’t think I want people to bring me back to life.” - (Tommy’s Alone?: 47:38, 19th Dec) 

“If I am given a life, does that mean I die? Like Ghostbur dies? And Alivebur is alive but Ghostbur is dead.” - (Tommy’s Alone?: 48:11, 19th Dec) 

To now wanting to be resurrected. He’s made peace with the fact that he must die for Alivebur to exist again (which is sus, like this poor depressed boyyyy). But he’s doing it for noble reasons, it seems, not uh.... not other reasons, I don’t think. He wants Alivebur to exist because Ghostbur can’t help as much as his alive self could.

And hell, maybe he’d be able to make up for his mistakes.

Overall, his conversation with Phil shows many things. Mainly, that Ghostbur saw what he was doing in L’Manberg as sowing peace, that he relates his love for Friend to people’s belongings, that this is his turning point in how he sees himself (and how he can’t stay dead), and that it’s him putting himself back in the narrative.

This one conversation had so much to tell, and I’m sure I could analyse it further but this is far too long (1.8k words). So, if you made it this far, thank you for reading <3

[dreamescapeswriting]

Unfinished Business ~ Part Seven [M]

WORD COUNT: 7.9K [Smut chapter]

WARNINGS: Mentions of mafia, strong language, murder, blood, unprotected sex,

PAIRING: Bang Chan X Reader

DESCRIPTION: Part seven of nine of my new Bang Chan series. 

You’re taken hostage but one of Seoul’s leading mafia families Bang Chan but he doesn’t take you because he wants to fake a marriage or make you fall for him in 365 days no…He wants to use you for his own personal gain. To take over another family but when you try to escape things take a turn for the worst and you learn Chan isn’t one to be messed with.(Please I suck at describing stuff)

THEMES: Smut will be included in a later chapter so this is a fic for a mature audience, Chan x Fem!Reader, Self insert

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

The next morning Chan woke up to an empty bed and he sat up straight, staring around the room for any sign of a struggle in case you'd been taken in the night. But there wasn't anything, then his mind went to you running away in the middle of the night while he slept. He slipped out of the bed and walked towards the bedroom door where he heard music playing from down the hallway. It was muffled through the door, but it was the song he and you had sung in the kitchen before. He travelled down the steps of the stairs and into the living room where Minho and Felix were having breakfast, calmly talking to one another while nodding their heads along to the song. Chan could see you in the kitchen through the serving hatch that was in place there. You were swaying in time to the music and humming along to the words as you flipped pancakes and cooked bacon in another frying pan. It smelt amazing and the whole room smelt as though you could eat it, Chan came into the kitchen unbeknownst to you and watched you as you did this. It was entertaining to him to watch you be this happy and free in the house, since he hadn't seen you this way before it was refreshing to see you act in this way.

"You look happy," You dropped the spatula at the sound of his voice, he chuckled bending down to pick it up for you and place it into the sink.

"I am happy...strangely." You whispered the last part but he heard you, even if you didn't want him to hear it. It was only because you didn't want to admit that it was true to yourself just yet. Your head was still at war with itself.

"Look last night-" He started, he didn't want you to kiss him just because you'd been worried about something.

"I wanted to kiss you, I wasn't just scared and sort comfort in your arms." You admitted to him and he smiled, relieved, he was delighted that you could practically read his mind on how he was feeling but he was even more thrilled to hear that you wanted to kiss him and it hadn't just been some kind of fluke. He'd wanted you to want that since the moment you agreed to stay with him with his first offer before he'd killed Mrs Lu.

"I'd like to take you out to dinner, just you, me and Jisung who will sit far away so we can be alone." You were a little shocked that he was asking you out instead of telling you to go out like he normally would but you nodded at him, despite the plan that was to make him fall for you and leave you found yourself actually falling for him and starting to like him which had been weird for you. You'd never really liked anyone this way before or at least, not this strongly before. 

"I promise to explain everything over dinner. But I have somewhere to be right now, I have a meeting. Minho is watching over you with Felix for the day." Chan came over to you and left a kiss on your forehead his lips were soft on your skin, his hand rested on your lower back as if you were a couple, it felt good to have him do this.

"I'll pick you up at 7 and we'll go out. Be ready. Wear one of those dresses from your wardrobe." He told you trying to loosen down on the orders but you nodded at him and watched as he made his way towards the staircase and back up the stairs he'd originally came from. Changbin came down them next, you were greeted with a glare from him, you'd gotten them all morning so it was nothing new to you. You just decided to be as nice as you could with him since it would probably piss him off more.

"Food Changbin?" You questioned in the kindest way you could possibly imagine and he accepted - it shocked you a little still you plated him up the food that had originally been for chan and handed it to him, he stared at you and then over at Felix and Minho you could tell he had something he wanted to say but wasn't going to in front of them. So you smiled at him and turned off the oven, happily skipping towards the door.

"I have a date to get ready for." You mumbled moving out of the kitchen and going up the staircase towards your room but you bumped into Chan in the hallway upstairs, his hand landed on your waist to steady you from falling down the stairs behind you and you felt a shock wave hit your body.

"Hi." You giggled excitedly, jumping up to kiss him on the cheek you had no idea what was coming over you but every time you were around him you were filled with a sudden burst of happiness and butterflies mixed with a warm feeling and joy that just made you want to be around him constantly.

"Hello," He chuckled looking down into your eyes as you smiled at him. This was the most he’d seen you smile and that smile made him want to stay home all day but he couldn't. The boys at the office were helping track down Namjoon who seemed to go back into the hole he'd crawled out of after threatening you last night.

"What are we doing tonight? Do I need to wear anything specific?" He shook his head and tapped his nose to signal that it was a secret, he wasn't going to give anything away to what he was going to do with you that night. Only that it was going to be romantic and special for you he’d everything planned in his head.

"Is Jisung free? I want him to help me get ready." You told him and he looked down at his watch while you straightened up his tie for him, his stomach turned as you did it the same way that she - his ex wife -  used to do it for him in the mornings tapping it down when it was straightened perfectly, it felt oddly nice to have it back in his life. Something that would seem so small to anyone else but meant the world to Chan.

"I'll send him around when he gets up. It's his day off so no promises, why Jisung?" He questioned, he suddenly felt overwhelmed with a wave of jealously that you wanted to be around someone else so much other than him. You'd grown closer to Jisung than you had any of the other guys and it worried him a little thinking you would start to fall for him or that you'd try turning Jisung against him, he tried not to think about it too much. Jisung had been with him for years so there was little chance of that happening.

"He's my favourite," You teased tapping his tie over his chest again and smiling up at him but the smile faded when you saw how mad Chan seemed to get from a seemingly innocent comment.

"It was a joke, I don't know. I'm just close to him. Like a younger brother," You told him quickly and he seemed to calm down you smiled at him and kissed his cheek once again wanting to relax a little more.

"You should go, the sooner you're gone the quicker the time will pass." You spoke to him he sighed knowing you were right and he left down the stairs, calling Seungmin and Hyunjin to tell them he was ready for work that morning.

"No," Jisung said as he laid sprawled out on your bed, he was watching as you came and went in all the different outfit ideas you had but he was saying no to everything you'd put on so far and at this rate, you were going to need a new wardrobe.

"Why?" You asked putting your hands on your hips as you stared at Jisung wondering what could possibly be wrong with this option. It seemed perfect to you, it was a low cut top with a pair of jeans. Jisung knew what Chan would think the moment he saw it, he’d be angry at the fact that everyone else could see what he wanted to be his.

"It's too showy." You groaned at him and threw a pillow in his direction as you went back into the wardrobe, you were looking through the racks while he ate popcorn from a bowl on your bed as if this was some kind of show to him.

"So...do you actually like him then?" You could tell by the tone of his voice he was concerned for your true intentions for his boss were. You didn't want to lie to him so you slowly came out of the wardrobe clutching onto the last dress that was within your wardrobe.

"Yes...I- Jisung my heart and my head are pulling me in opposite directions." You admitted finally and it was like a weight had been taken away from your chest as soon as the words left your mouth. You knew you needed to talk to someone about it and Jisung was the only person you knew you would ever be able to trust enough to talk with about all of this.

"What's your head saying?" He moved over on the bed and you sat down beside him, taking a handful of popcorn and slowly munching on the pieces as you thought about how to talk to him about it, Chan was his boss at the end of the day and he could just as easily go to him about all of this.

"My head is screaming that I'm insane, he killed someone I loved and that I need to get out."

"And your heart?" He questioned you without a sign of how he was feeling about hearing you say that about Chan. Turning to look at him you could see his eyes filling with tears as you stared at him. He was an exact replica of the pleading face emoji and it made your heart cry out for him to stop, he was pleading with you mentally not to hurt Chan and you knew that you hadn't known Chan long but you knew he'd been through enough without you adding hurt to him.

"To take him into my life with open arms and love him no matter what." You whispered to him finally admitting it to yourself that you liked him truly, madly and deeply enough that it seemed like love to you. Something  Mrs Lu had taught you growing up was that you only ever had true love once or twice in your life, go out and grab it by the horns while you can.

"Love him?" You nodded at his question and his pleading face turned into a giant smile at the thought of Chan finally being happy again, letting go and becoming the happier chan he used to know well. He'd noticed how much happier Chan had become since taking you and he was glad it was happening, even on the first night he walked into the bar and Chan saw you he was happier just by being in your vicinity.. Neither of you had noticed Changbin was outside the door of your room listening to everything you were saying, but even he was happy that you weren't just trying to use Chan to your own advantage like he had thought. Not that he trusted you fully yet anyway, he was going to have to convince Chan that he would go along tonight instead of Jisung since you'd grown close enough to Jisung it was probably easier for him to be fooled than the rest of them.

Chan was waiting anxiously by the front door for you debating with himself if this was a good idea Changbin had come up with the plan. There was something happening tonight that you weren’t going to know about, Changbin called him at lunch to go over everything. Now Changbin was waiting in the car that would follow you both around that night instead of being in the same car as you. It would give you both a little more freedom, more room to breathe and Chan could talk to you and tell you anything and everything you wanted to know. He was going to be as open with you as he could manage and tell you anything and everything you wanted to know about him and his life.

"Where are we going?" Your voice rang through the air and Chan looked up at the staircase to see you walking down the steps towards him, you were in a plain black off the shoulder skater dress with a pair of vans on since you wanted comfort, it looked great on you.

"Surprise, come on." You smiled and headed down the last steps to reach his side, the boys were all watching you from the living room interested to see what was going to happen. You leant up and kissed Chan on the cheek and his ears turned a bright red colour as the boys all let out cocky remarks in his direction with some wolf whistles which Chan did not approve of. You weren't a dog so you shouldn't have to deal with that kind of behaviour from them,

"Enough. Come on." He chuckled taking your hand in his and walking you out of the door and towards his black Porsche that was waiting for him. He unlocked your door and helped you inside before going around to his own and getting into it.

"Seatbelt." You warned him and he shook his head at you making sure to put it on before he started up the car, you stared at the side of his head while he drove. You were trying not to listen to your head, Jisung had gone through everything with you before telling you to listen to your heart. Trust your heart. Chan was only the way he was because of the things he'd been through, he'd never ever do anything to hurt you or harm you in any way. Explaining that when your ankle had been hurt and Chan made it worse he'd heard him crying for hours after he did it. Deep down inside he was a soft guy with a kind heart you just had to find your way to it without hurting him or scaring him off.

"What are you thinking about?" He questioned as he turned to look at you at a red light, you shook your head as you tried to think of something to say to him.

"Nothing, I was just admiring your beauty." He groaned and started trying to hide from you but you begged him not to, reminding him that he was gorgeous and you truly meant it, he was the most handsome man you'd ever met there was no denying that. Everyone had a crush on him and if they said they didn't they were lying.

"Stop, you're handsome." You giggled at him and he groaned at you before turning a corner and down a dark road, you had no idea where you were going but you trusted Chan enough to get you there safely.

"Chan what-" He held his finger up to his lips as he walked you through the care home that you knew too well the night shift workers were all standing behind the desk watching you closely.

"Mr Bang, it's nice to see you again." The receptionist said as she came out from behind the desk, you came out from behind Chan and she smiled at you. You'd seen her a lot since you used to volunteer there with her,

"Y/n! We were beginning to wonder where you'd gotten to. Are you two here together?" You nodded and Chan linked his hands with yours making sure your fingers were interlocked to prove it to be true.

 "We're here to see her grandfather," You watched as she walked you through the long hallways and towards the canteen, they were having a painting session in there. All of them hunched over plates and designing them to look beautiful it had been something you introduced them to when you started here.

"Go on in," The nurse urged, you looked at Chan and he joined you pulling you into the room he wasn't going to let you go through any of this alone.

"Y/n! Chan!" You heard one of the elderly ladies call out your name and you stared at Chan, he must have come here a lot as well because everyone seemed to be calling him over to them and wanting to talk to him for a little while. It was true, he used to come when he was deciding on what to do with his money -- donating it that was -- and he’d gotten to know some of the elderly people and workers.

"Ah look! They're on a date!" One of the eldest ladies - Mina - said to her husband as they watched you walking around together hand in hand.

"How long have you been courting?! Is this why we don't see you anymore young lady?!" Mina screamed at you jokingly. You were so distracted by her yells that you hadn't seen a walking stick and tripped over it. Chan immediately wrapped his arms around you to stop you from hitting the floor, he had reflexes faster than a cat.

"Look at the way he holds her!" The women cooed all of them wishing that they could have the relationship you had,

"Leave them alone, she's here to see her grandfather," Mina grumbled once you were stood up once again, Chan chuckled as he saw how shy you were getting around them he found it endearing.

"I thought you came here a lot," He said as he realised just how shy you were around them you nodded at him confirming it to be true,

"I did but I came alone and not with someone who was incredibly good looking." You poked his cheek and looked around for your grandfather spotting him sitting by the window alone and not taking part in the painting.

"Here." You pulled Chan in his direction and sat down across from your grandfather it was safe to say Chan was a little nervous to be meeting someone in your family,

"Why aren't you painting Harold?" You questioned nicely looking at the blank white plate in front of him,

"I don't know what to paint. I don't even like painting." You faked a gasp at him and moved around to sit beside him wanting to show him just how untrue that statement was,

"Now you and I both know that isn't true," You mumbled to him looking as he stared at you, you were used to the blank expression he gave whenever he looked at you. He couldn't remember who you were most days so you smiled weakly at him trying not to get too hurt over this.

"I'm Y/n, this is Bang Chan." Chan shook your grandfather's hand he was trying to make a good impression even if the man didn't know who you were and then he turned to you when your grandfather did,

"I know who you are-" For a moment your heart swelled up as you thought for just a second that he had remembered who you were your whole world seemed to get brighter at the thought of him remembering you,

"You're that bright girl that always come by to cheer us up, Chan here is always on the news." You smiled softly as he remembered you a little, even that was better than him not knowing who you were at all but Chan looked a little upset that he knew him from the news, it meant he knew what he did for a living and that wasn’t the impression he wanted to give to him.

"You know how to paint, look." You said taking the paintbrush from the tray and beginning to paint some flowers around the edge of the plate using his hand as well as your own to guide him. Chan and your grandfather watched you intensely as you turned the plain white plate into a floral garden with his name written along the bottom in a fancy font.

"Whoa," Chan exclaimed as you finished and put the paintbrush into the water he knew you were good at painting on the walls but he never would have imagined this.

"She's a keeper. You'll have a whole new plate stash whenever you want." You laughed softly along with him and Chan.

"It's beautiful, you should keep it." Your grandfather spoke to you, sliding the plate to be directly in front of you but you shook your head and slid it back over to him,

"I want you to paint something next-"

"Only if you and pretty boy here will make your own plates." You agreed to paint some more with him trying to hold back the laughter as he called Chan ‘Pretty boy’. Chan had planned on staying there as long as you both could, it was 7 pm and the visiting hours were long overdue but no one was going to tell him what he could and couldn't do.

While Chan helped some of the residents to their beds with the nurses you stayed back to clean up the plates for everyone along with the painting supplies. Your hand graced over the one that you and Chan had painted together. It wasn’t much, just a plate with flowers on either side, Chan had tried to copy the way you painted - failing horribly - you smiled at it, your eyes filling with tears as you looked at your names together at the bottom of the plate,

"You're in love," A voice called out from behind you making you jump a little almost dropping the plate you were holding. Your back straightened up as you turned to see who it was that was talking to you.

"Sighing away and smiling like that," The old lady sat down on one of the chairs and patted the space next to her tiredly reaching for her oxygen mask, you set the plate down and went to sit beside her.

"I thought so," She laughed softly, it was so easy to tell who was in love for the first time. They always found it hard to hide from it, even if you didn't know it yourself everyone else could already tell you were falling in love. The small smiles you would make when you thought no one was around, the skip in your step and the way your whole face would light up whenever that person was around you.

“Loving someone like him can be dangerous, you better be careful.” She grumbled looking at you through her glasses as if she was trying to warn you about him. She’d heard of him, everyone had, so she wanted to make sure you were sure about all of this.

"Were you ever in love?" You questioned as she ran her hands over yours, you noticed a tan line where a wedding ring should have been and you smiled at the thought of her never having taken it off before until the moment she lost her husband or wife.

"Of course I was, I still am," She took a locket from around her neck, it was a love heart shaped locket - her ring around the golden chain as well. Opening it to reveal a wedding photo of herself and her husband, both standing there smiling as they cut the cake together giant smiles plastered across their faces.

"He was the love of my life, you should tell Chan." You frowned at her words not following along with her logic,

"Tell Chan you loved someone-" 

"No, tell Chan you love him." She grumbled playfully hitting you around the back of the head with her hand,

"I'm scared...What if he doesn't feel the same way?" She scoffed at you shaking her head as you mentioned it as if anyone in the place couldn’t already tell how Chan felt about you from one glance,

"The way he looks at you, the boy is head over heels in love with you. There’s no denying how he feel about you." Her voice came out shaky as she reached for her mask again, taking in another deep breath.

"You ready to go?" Chan's voice came out of nowhere as he walked into the room unannounced, you nodded standing up and bowing to the elderly lady before you left the room a nurse going in after you to escort Mrs Park back to her bedroom for the night.

 "Chan that was-" You tried to thank him for the wonderful night but he cut you off,

"The night isn't finished I promise." He chuckled wrapping his arm around your shoulder and taking you back to the car, Changbin was waiting in his behind yours and you smiled softly at him. You were hoping he was in a better mood than he had been but he seemed to still be annoyed at you for something you hadn't done and didn't intend to do anymore.

"Where are we going next, or is it another surprise for me?" He nodded to confirm that it was indeed another surprise drive for you he'd planned everything perfectly that day with Changbin. Everything had to go perfect tonight..

"We're here." You looked around outside of the car windows, there was nothing but a glass building that had fogged class in front of you.

"Where is here exactly?" You questioned going to get out of the car but the door was locked,

"You'll see." He got out of his side and came around to unlock and open the door for you, he wanted to be the gentleman that night and look after you like he should have been doing from the start. This was how he should have done it from the beginning, wining and dining you instead of the whole kidnapping thing and the murder but he would explain that to you soon. He would explain everything to you.

"Thank you." You whispered as he helped you out of the car and began walking you towards the building, as you got closer you were able to read the signs. 'Botanical gardens', you stared at the back of his head as you walked inside. The place was empty except for Changbin who was walking far behind to keep an eye on you both since it was his job to do so,

"Chan this is insane." You said as you looked around, all of the lights were turned off except for fairy lights lighting up the paths and flowered areas, as well as small lamps on the plaques telling you what flower was growing.

"I thought it would be somewhere nice and private for us," He smiled looking around when he felt your hand snake and intertwine with his. Changbin watched as you both lazily walked around the pavement and towards a blanket one of the workers had set up for you. It had food waiting for you to eat, a whole picnic set out.

"It's beautiful." He sat you down on the blanket and you waited for him to sit next to you so you could lay your head on his shoulder.

"Changbin go and walk around, make the rounds." Chan stated as he eyed his guard up carefully. This was the start of the plan. Changbin left you alone and Chan turned into a serious mode. He took your hands into his as he sat down beside you and told you he would tell you everything about his wife,

"Chan if it makes you uncomfortable I don't want you to-" There was one thing you were sure of, there was no way the story of Chan killing his wife was true so you didn’t want to do something that could make Chan upset.

"I want to, you have to know what happened now that you're at risk because of it." You swallowed the lump that was starting to form in your throat, you'd come up with theories about what could have happened to his wife but you'd never put serious thought into them before.

"I went away on one of our ''business trips'' and I left her home, alone, without one of the boys to watch her because she said she didn't need them. She was sure she didn’t need protecting but when I came back home she erm." He choked up trying to get the words out but tears were rolling down the cheeks at the thought of her, he was over her he really was but bringing up the subject of her death was always a touchy subject for him. It was all he could picture whenever he thought about her, the images burnt into his brain.

"The house was torn apart, blood was all over the place and she was dead in my office. She'd put up a fight but she'd been tortured. I always knew it was Namjoon that did it to her but now I know for sure that it was him now that he threatened you." You nodded along with him and placed your hand over his, rubbing it to let him know that it was okay that he could stop if it felt too difficult talking about it. You were there and you weren't going to go anywhere any time soon, he stared at your hand and placed his other one on top of it. Holding you and trying to breathe through what he was going to say next,

"I'll never let him get hold of you, and I'll make sure he pays for what he did to her now I know for sure it was him." You liked the vulnerable side of him, it was opening up a side to him that only made you fall harder for him.

"Sorry! Here." He picked up a strawberry and placed it into your mouth, he was trying to change the subject so you went along with him on it since the subject was clearly bothering him.

"Why here?" You questioned gesturing around the building you were sitting in and he shrugged his shoulders handing you another strawberry as soon as you finished the first one,

"I always thought this place was beautiful and you love painting flowers so much so I figured it would be a nice peaceful place to come." You smiled at him thanking him for bringing you here, it was truly beautiful inside of here.

"What did you do before all of the mafia stuff?" It was something that had been playing on your mind for a while you wanted to know everything you could about his life, he shrugged his shoulders not really having an answer for it.

"I can't remember much, I just remember having a dead-end job, never going anywhere and I decided it wasn't the life for me. I took charge...I worked my way up from the bottom though." He went on to explain how he’d worked for someone just like him and when the man died he’d taken over in his place continuing his hard work on.

"I had a wonderful time." You said as you stared up at the ceiling of the gardens, you were laying on the picnic blanket together well and truly stuffed from the food you'd gotten. Your head was resting on Chan's chest while you listened to his heart pumping, his breathing was soothing to you just like it was last night and you could have fallen asleep right there if you wanted to. You felt protected with him and it was a nice feeling, something you hadn't felt in a long time.

"We should get going, it's late." He told you as he realised the time, it was almost 1 in the morning, it was pitch black outside and Changbin had just gone to the top floor on the building to stay out of the way again.

"Okay," You whispered, sitting up from his chest and turning to look at him you'd been resisting the urge to kiss him all night but right here and right now he looked too good to pass up. His black hair was tossed to the side and he looked so sleepy his eyes were struggling to stay open it was cute, you kissed him passionately and felt him smirk against your lips.

"Hi." He whispered as he chuckled, you’d shifted to sit on his lap, you wanted him badly and every nerve in your body was telling you to just go for it. To throw caution to the wind and kiss him like you’d been wanting to all night.

"Hi." You whispered back to him kissing him again, his left hand fell onto your waist and his right was cupping your cheek while you made out in the garden centre. You bit down on his bottom lip dragging it away softly before kissing him hungrily this time. He could already sense where this was going to go but he couldn’t,

"Mmm, no. Not here." He whispered to you, pulling away from your lips and watching as you pouted at him, you were still straddling his lap and you could tell he wanted you just as much as you wanted him.

"You want me too." You whimpered, grinding your hips a little making yourself whimper as you could feel how hard he was through his trousers. He let out a groan of pleasure when he felt you do that but he couldn't. Not here. There were too many dangers in this, Namjoon could walk in any minute it would be too easy for him to kill you and Chan in one go, Changbin could walk back in any minute and catch you both naked on the floor and the third option which killed him to think of. You could run away when you had Chan naked and he could do nothing to stop you,

"I do but not here, it's too open you could run away from me..." His voice trailed off and you sat back on his legs a little sad that he thought that of you. That he thought even after a night like this and the night before that you would run away from him.

"I already promised you I wasn't going anywhere, don't you trust me?" He shook his head and then nodded it confused on how he was feeling he didn't know. He was conflicted over everything in his head and heart.

"In my heart I trust you but in my head, I don't." He admitted and you nodded at him, understanding him completely since it had been something you’d felt towards him for a long time. He had every right to be scared that you would runoff. You'd tried it in the past and you knew he was scared that Namjoon would find you, it was enough to know he cared about you and bring you some confidence to tell him how you felt but not yet.

"I promise I'm not going anywhere Chan," He looked at you as you ran your hand over his cheek running your fingers along his cheek and smiling as he locked eyes with you his skin began to turn pink as you stared into his eyes,

"Please," You begged him, kissing down his neck as you unbuttoned the top of his shirt feeling needier than ever, he growled at you as soon as your lips came into contact with his skin and he ran his hands up your thighs on the inside of your dress dragging you back onto his lap.

"You want me?" He questioned as you continued to suck on his neck hungrily, You nodded to him desperately,

"I want all of you," You whispered kissing him passionately once again rolling your hips down just to feel how hard he was, he let out a strangled groan as you reached down to undo his suit trousers. This was stupidly dangerous but right now he was too lost in the moment with you, he kissed down your neck sucking on the skin as you let out a low whimper of pleasure. The sound made him weaker, he wanted to hear what you could sound like once he was buried inside of you.

"You sure? Here?" He gestured around you and you ground down onto his fingers that were now at your soaking core,

"I've never been so sure about anything in my entire life." You assured him by looking him in the eyes as you spoke to him. He took himself out from his trousers, you didn't want to waste any more time not having him inside of you, there wasn’t time for foreplay right now. You were throbbing around nothing just at the thought of him fucking you,

"S-Shit," You hissed as he teased himself in your folds coating himself in your arousal not wanting to hurt you since you weren’t about to let him do anything else just yet, he moaned out as soon as he felt you dripping onto his cock.

"Please Chan-" You were cut short as he slowly lowered you down onto his length both of you moaning out as you hit the bottom of his length taking every inch of him inside of you you rolled your head back as you slowly began to rise and fall on top of him trying to adjust to him.

"You're so warm," He grunted holding you close wrapping his arms around your back and pressing you against him, it had been so long since he'd done anything like this he'd forgotten what it felt like, you shook your head as he began to help you move up and down slowly. He pushed the top of your dress down as he began sucking on your breasts.

"F-Faster," You begged him looking down into his eyes as you begged for him to do this to you, you'd dreamt of it the night before after you had that kiss and now it was finally happening. All thoughts of everything he'd done melted out of your memory as he began to thrust up into you, his hands on your waist as he held you still enough that he was in control of what was happening.

Your nails dug into his shirt as you felt his tip hit your g-spot with each thrust of his hips making you cry out in pleasure each time he moved,

"Fuck Chan!" You practically screamed forgetting that Changbin was out there somewhere with you but you didn't care, your nails dragged down his chest as you felt yourself clenching around him each time he hit you deeper than before. He groaned looking up at you lost in the noises you were making and the way your face scrunched whenever he hit just the right spot. 

He laid back against the floor and began thrusting up into you harder, each time your walls clamping around him making him grunt out. You weakly lent your hands down on his chest grasping as his shirt,

"R-Right there," Your eyes shut tightly as you felt him hitting you just where you needed him without fail making you feel as though he was deep inside your gut, you could already feel your orgasm building up.

"I-I can't hold back Y/n," He croaked out looking at you as you continued to ride him, he wanted to pound into you, he didn’t want a slow ride. He needed you badly.

"Then don't." He swiftly pulled out of you laying you down gently below him on the blanket, he lifted your dress up to your waist as he lined himself up at your entrance slowly easing back into you until he felt your hilt, your toes curled at the new angle.

"Fuck," Your eyes filled with tears at the new angle and he lifted one of your legs over his shoulder starting off slow with each of his thrusts looking you in the eyes as he continued to fuck into you. Hitting you deep as you moaned out at each tiny move he made as soon as he knew you were comfortable he began to push in and out of you roughly, making you whimper.

"F-Faster," You told him looking him in the eyes to show him it was okay and that you could handle it and he smirked putting his hands on your waist and pulling you closer before he pinned your hips to the floor and began slamming in and out of you at a ruthless pace, you screamed out in pleasure.

"Oh fuck!" You cried out back arching off the floor as he rocked into you smirking as you cried out his name loudly, your nails dragging into the blanket as you tried to keep yourself from getting too loud inside of the building. Your orgasm was fast approaching, your toes curling with each pump into you. Chan knew that Changbin would have gotten the idea not to come back right now and he groaned feeling you clench around him, it was bringing him closer to his own release,

"I'm c-close." He mumbled looking at you as he moaned out your name lowly, he wished he could have lasted longer but it had been so long since he'd ever been inside of someone that it was building up far too quickly and the way you were clenching around him made him want to bust the moment he’d entered you the first time.

"Me too," He chuckled, bending down to kiss you softly and romantically. As he made out with you his hand ran down the front of your body rubbing your clit roughly to match the pace of his thrusts, tugging and rubbing quickly.

"Ugh shit, Chan p-please," You begged for him to let you cum but he chuckled darkly, liking the way you begged for something like this so he continued to shake his head denying you of your orgasm. You hissed at him as you rolled over with him still inside of you taking control of the situation, you continued to ride him at a faster pace wanting to look at him while you came around him.

After a few more thrusts Chan grunted holding you down on him as he came inside of you, feeling him fill you up sent you over the edge making you cum around him as your hips bucked up trying to keep the friction going. Your orgasm filled your head as you began to feel as though you were floating as hips bucked against him, you could already feel his cum dripping down onto him again mixed with yours.

"I love you, Chan." The words ripped through you the moment you came around him and then everything was like shattering glass, it started slowly at first cracking at the edges until it all came crashing down onto the floor. He jumped to his feet shaking his head at you as you were left empty without him there anymore you whined at the feeling of emptiness so soon after cumming but nothing could compare to what was coming,

"No. No, you don't." Panic rushed through him as the words left his mouth, he didn't give you time to say anything else or do anything else he just left you there in the middle of the gardens in the barely lit room you'd been sitting in together. This wasn't part of the plan, he was supposed to take you there and be seen by Namjoon, none of this was supposed to happen! He groaned hitting the steering wheel of his car as he started the engine up quickly.

You straightened out the stress as you got up to chase after him wanting answers as to where he was going,

"Chan?!" You called out trying to follow after him but the place was like a maze and you were lost without him inside of here with you, you hadn’t paid attention to where you were walking and in your post brain fog from your orgasm it was hard to read the signs and make sense of them.

By the time you got out to the parking lot and to his car and Changbin's car was speeding off into the night without a second glance back at you which meant you were alone outside where you had no idea how to get back home or if you were even welcome there, after what Chan had just done inside of the gardens.

You began walking back the way you thought you came, you'd started following their tire tracks but lost them when they conjoined with other car tracks. Now you were wandering around aimlessly in the night at the side of the road trying to find a way to get back or at least get into town. Why couldn't Jisung have been the one to go with you and Chan? He never would have left you out in the middle of nowhere at 2 in the morning, every leaf blowing in the wind and tree branch breaking had you on edge. You were crying to yourself as you walked rubbing your hands up and down your arms as you tried to keep warm, you were alone and terrified that something was going to happen to you. All you had to do was get to Chan and straighten everything out, he couldn't actually be upset because you told him you loved him, everyone had told you to grab hold of love by the horns. That he loved you back but here you were in the cold of night, alone. If he loved you he never would have done this to you, you felt disgusted in yourself for letting him fuck you and leave you. You wanted him to be here right now to protect you but he wasn't, he was probably at home where it was safe and warm not even thinking about you. A branch snapped from behind you but you didn't turn around, you knew it was all in your head so you continued down the road until you heard a car engine come close before cutting out,

"Chan?" You whispered, turning around and hoping it would be him, maybe he'd come to his senses and decided to bring you back home. The headlights were obstructing your view but you knew it wasn't Chan from the moment the voice left the silhouette.

"Well, well angel. Looks like he left you for me to play with." You squinted to see Namjoon smirking at you as the headlights on his car cut out, he must have been waiting all night for something to go wrong. Or had someone follow you and let him know if something happened. You looked around for a sign of anyone to help you but there was no one it was the dead of night, not many people would be driving around and Chan was gone, Changbin definitely wasn't going to come racing back for you any time soon.

"He's not going to come back, sweetheart."

A/n: Just wanted to see how you’re all doing and to thank you for reading this so far! It’s my first ‘series’ on here so I was nervous about it. I loved writing this and I cant wait for you guys to see the ending I have planned!! 

Tagline: @moonprincessdiviniation (I hope I did my editing justice baby!!!) @taestannie @kneel-begyourpardon @calling-dips-on-j-hope @hugs4chan @peachyhan @ncitythoughts @inseonqt @cloudsgathering​ @atletino​ @mischiefmakerliesmith5​ @freckledquokka @happygirl327​ 

[timmytimwriter]

Once Upon A Time...

A/N: Hi! I know I haven’t uploaded anything in a long while, BUT I’ve kept myself busy with writing. I know I had requests I haven’t uploaded yet, and that’s because I’m working on it. Recently, I started watching the Fantastic Beast film series and fell head over heels in love with Theseus Scamander. So, here’s a little mini-series.

As usual, all my Y/N’s are black. Period. If you want a white Y/N, refer to the other gazillion fanfics that fail to be inclusive to black women :) with that out the way, enjoy!

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: None, just heartbreak :(

Once upon a time, it was Y/N Y/L/N and Theseus Scamander against the world. Having spent nearly their entire life together, nearly everyone expected them to end up together. Hell, even they expected to end up together. And, they almost did. Y/N loved him more than she loved life itself. Theseus did not.

Once upon a time, Y/N was prepared to spend the rest of her life with Theseus. But their fairytale romance didn’t end in a happily ever after.

The small gang had run out of places to hide. Wherever they want, Grindelwald’s supporters seemed to find – and try to kill – them. They had exhausted every hiding spot in the entire continent of Europe, it seemed.

“We can’t just keep running.” Tina fumed after nearly escaping yet another attack. They trudged through the alleys of London. Try as they might, it was hard to stay inconspicuous with such a large group. If it were just Newt, Tina, and Jacob running it’d be easier – but, their ranks had been joined by Yusuf Kama, Nagini, and Theseus Scamander.

“We have to leave Europe. We can’t keep hiding out like animals.” Yusuf said.

“We could always go back to New York?” Jacob halfheartedly suggested. After losing Queenie, everything Jacob did was halfhearted. It was as if Queenie took his very essence with her when she left.

“No, New York would be too obvious. They know who we are, so they must know where we live.” Tina interjected, just as halfheartedly. She had lost her sister to an evil she couldn’t find. All she could do was run; run away from her sister.

Newt noticed her sadness and took her hand in his, offering her a small smile. Theseus watched his little brother and Tina hold hands, which only reminded him of what he had lost: Leta Lestrange.

Theseus’ bitter thoughts were interrupted by his brother. “New York may be too obvious but going to America isn’t such a bad idea…” Newt’s voice trailed off and he tentatively glanced at his older brother, who was lost in his own world.

“Theseus…” Newt softly said. He let go of Tina’s petite hand and walked over to his brother, putting a soft hand on his broad shoulders.

“What?” Theseus saw everyone now looking at him, and he wondered if he missed something important when he was lost in his own head. “Did I miss something?”

Newt took a deep breath. He knew this wasn’t going to end well. “I know a place we can hideout. In America. But you’re not going to like it…”

The day was September 18th, 1927.

The crisp autumn brisk bristled past Y/N as she swiftly walked through a nearly empty park. It was nearly 8AM and, though nearly everyone else in Washington DC was asleep, Y/N Y/L/N had made a point of waking up at 5 in the morning for the sole purpose of getting fresh baked goods from Maryland.

See, her favorite bakery was nearly an hour-long drive from her home and the goods always ran out fast. It had taken her weeks to devise a working and precise plan, but she had finally done it. Now, it was just this eerie park that separated where she parked her car and her apartment that delayed her breakfast.

“If the bread gets cold… after all my hard work… so help me Merlin…” she huffed, hastening her paste. Finally, she found herself in front of her apartment – a stout yet charming brown shoe-box shaped building that was snuggled between what seemed like a billion other buildings that fit the same description. Lucky for her, Y/N lived on the ground floor and only had to climb the front steps and insert her key.

“Home sweet home.” She thought to herself, setting the bag of baked goods on a nearby table. She shrugged off her light coat, lamenting if the food was worth not sleeping in. Lord knows when she may get another opportunity; with the rise of Grindelwald, her work at the ministry had nearly quadrupled.

But it kept her busy. It distracted her from everything ailing her life; how war was imminent, worrying for her family’s safety, worrying for her own safety, worrying for…him.

As much as it pained her, she kept close tabs on him. Whenever a European Auror turned up dead because of Grindelwald or one of his followers, she prayed it wasn’t him. Y/N had never been a religious person; she believed in magic, but that was it. To this day, it still puzzled her how the man who had completely crushed her heart made her believe in the unbelievable.

She shook her head. “Stop thinking about him.” She muttered to herself, taking a deep breath. “Lord knows he’s not thinking about you. Lord knows he was never thinking about you…” She tossed her coat onto the couch, making a mental note to put it away later.

For now, she needed the only thing that would drive him out of her mind: food. Through her heartbreak and depression, there was only one constant in her mind. The one thing that drove her out of bed nearly every day. The one thing that didn’t attempt to get her to “talk about it” or “put herself out there.” The one thing that she loved more than…

“Theseus!”

Lo and behold, standing right there in her petite kitchen was Theseus Scamander. The man who had obliviated her heart.

She nearly fell back in shock, never expecting to see his face again. After all these years… he still looked the same. His eyes were still dark with slight speckles on gold. His auburn hair still had those unruly curls that he hated and often unsuccessfully tried to gel back, but Y/N always loved. Most of her favorite memories with him included him cuddling up to her while she played with his hair.

She narrowed her eyes and peered closer at him, taking in everything that had changed. Yes, he had certainly aged, but he looked thoroughly exhausted. He had bags under his eyes, and small vanishing wounds riddled his body. He looked tired. Defeated. She had never seen that look in him.

He looked like she did when he left her. Heartbroken.

“So sorry to intrude like this, Y/N” his brother, Newt, interjected. Y/N only then realized that there were other people present.

“What the hell is going on?”

Newt provided a quick summarization of what the group had gone through the past couple of days: the fight during Grindelwald’s assembly, Queenie’s betrayal, Credence switching sides, and Leta’s death. At that last comment, Y/N’s eyes instinctively darted to Theseus, who kept his trained on the ground. As a matter of what, he was trying desperately hard to avoid eye contact.

“We wouldn’t be here if we weren’t desperate, Y/N.” Newt said. The Scamander’s and Y/N had a long and complicated history, and Newt hated having to impose this on his old friend. He didn’t like the idea of involving her in an already volatile situation.

Y/N, on the other hand, wouldn’t hear a word otherwise. “Of course, you’re all welcome to stay. I wish you’d come earlier and save yourselves the trouble of running around London seeking refuge.”

Newt gratefully nodded, taking Tina’s hand in his. “Don’t worry, I still remember my way around your flat.” At that, he and his... girlfriend(?) apparated away – probably to another room to get some privacy.

Now Y/N was left alone with a group of people she didn’t know. Well, she knew Theseus – once upon a time – but not as well as she thought she did, obviously.

“Alright, then. Are any of you hurt? Hungry? I’ve got baked goods from the best place in the country.” Y/N pushed further into the kitchen, clutching her bag of baked goods with her. Brushing past Theseus, she caught a sniff of the most comforting and familiar smell she knew. In fact, it was the exact same smell of her Amortentia potion. “I’ve got about a dozen bagels and some doughnuts. Oh, and cookies too. You might be wondering why I have so much food, after all, I’m just one person. And that’s a very funny question…” Y/N blabbered away. As if talking would fill the awkward space.

Because if she fell silent, she’d have to become more aware of her surroundings. That would mean looking at Theseus. Maybe even talking to him. And it would, ultimately, lead to her reliving every wonderfully painful memory she ever shared with him.

“Y/N…? Now, where have I heard that name before?” Jacob asked.

“Maybe from Newt? We went to Hogwarts together for about three years, after all.”

“Only three? Isn’t wizarding school for seven years, or something like that?”

“Yes, but I started school at Uagadou. It’s the wizarding school in Africa – I’m from Senegal, by the way, don’t let the English accent fool you- but then I transferred to Hogwarts in my fourth year…” Y/N trailed off, not fully wanting to finish the story as it didn’t paint her in the best light.

“…After she transfigured into a panther and attacked a kid for teasing her brothers.” Theseus finished. Y/N’s head snapped up, sending her Y/H/C locks flying in disarray, and stared at him. He was still tentatively looking at the ground, but his face held a knowing smile. “And then just a year after starting at Hogwarts, she did the exact same thing to another student.” He slowly raised his head. With his eyes partially hidden behind his disheveled auburn curls, it seemed as if he was staring into her naked soul.

“Magnolia Harper,” Y/N recalled, “She bloody deserved it too.”

“And what exactly did the poor girl do to warrant an animal attack?” Nagini whispered, her head cocked to the side in curiosity.

Y/N could feel the temperature in her cheeks rising by the second. At that times like this, she was glad her melanin complexion made it difficult for anyone tell she was blushing. The entire story was bloody embarrassing, especially given the situation everything was in right now. She chewed on the bottom of her lip, trying to piece together exactly how to phrase her answer.

Luckily, Theseus came to the rescue. “There was a rumor that she was planning on asking me to the Yule Ball and Y/N got insanely jealous. Pounced on her during Dumbledore’s practice dueling sessions and nearly clawed her entire face off.”

“Oh, so you two were an item. How sweet, young love.” Nagini mulled, smiling at the two. Yusuf stood beside her, solemnly nodding his head.

The pair looked down, the nostalgic smiles slipping from their faces. All the dissipating anger Y/N harbored suddenly came bubbling to the surface, remembering Theseus’ betrayal like a fresh wound. Theseus, on the other hand, felt the guilt and grief wash over him like a Tsunami.

“Not exactly. It turns out I was worried about the wrong girl…”

[cotccotc]

SKZ REACT to...

 ✰ you coming out PART 2 !!

part of my eight as fate event !! ( requested by anon ♡ )

genre/s: ot8 reaction headcanon, gn reader, platonic, fluff & humor

wc: ~1.3k

warning/s: descriptions of coming out as non-binary, brief mentions of gender dysphoria, my dumb commentary once again (hehe), these are just my opinions and ideas !!

a/n: i reference the first version of this reaction a few times and i recommend reading it first !! i got some really sweet responses to the original so i hope y’all like this one too :) OH ALSO i should mention that i decided to make it platonic since i found that easier and more natural to write.

✰ CHAN

i feel like even if he already knows a bunch about gender identity, non-binary and genderqueer people, dysphoria, pronouns, etc. he would definitely enjoy you giving him a full rundown on it !! and specifically what your interpretation is and how you identify

BEST LISTENER EVER !!!

do you remember that vlive where felix is talking and chan’s just sitting back and looking at felix with immense amounts of love in his eyes? yeah…

he’d be so. incredibly. proud. of you.

idk why the chan portions of these reactions have both been super sappy but anyways-

he’d be very dedicated to using your preferred pronouns and finding new ways to compliment you !!!

his google search history would most definitely include “genderless adjectives” and “enby dad jokes” and he’d keep a running list on his phone

chan: “what do you say when your non-binary friend is sad?”

you: [dead silence]

chan: “their, their....” [giggles]

KSDFJ

✰ MINHO

my first thought is that he’d be the type to ask for your new pronouns and immediately use them in a sentence.

for instance, say your new pronouns were xe/xem. he’d immediately say, “well, i’m very proud of my y/n, and i love xem very much.”

so then i’d start crying in the background.. blah blah blah omniscient narrator struggles :’)

i can’t see him being anything but casual and accepting !!

if you want to talk about things, he’ll most definitely let you, but if you don’t want to he won’t push.

but regardless, he just wants you to know he supports you in whatever way he can.

would also politely correct people if they misgender you in public !!! he wants you to feel safe !!!!!

i saw him as a wingman in the other reaction but in this context he’d definitely serve as your personal information pamphlet for people who you might not know too well.

random person: “what exactly does that mean?”

you: “it-”

minho: “WELL ACTUALLY-”

✰ CHANGBIN

just like in the first version, he’d get pretty emotional !!

i think he would really sympathize with you even though he can’t fully understand what you had to deal with externally or emotionally.

honestly that would probably make him even MORE emotional.

the fact that he can’t fully relate to those complex feelings would really tug at his heartstrings as he listens to you speak. he really wishes he could understand your struggles more, and maybe even take on the burden for you.

but let’s get less emo, shall we?

ok picture something with me bestie:

first, he casually refers to you using your new pronouns in a group conversation.

next, after the topic changes in the conversation, you look at him while the others continue talking.

this mf WINKS and flashes you the silliest smirk

you let out a little chuckle and you both continue on in the conversation

[end scene]

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH anyways-

✰ HYUNJIN

i feel like he might question his own gender identity a little as well sometimes, especially due to what people say online (like calling him “pretty”, the edits some people make, praising him for breaking stereotypes, etc.)

so, he probably understands a bit deeper than some of the other members might.

in that same vein, i think it might make him a little bit emotional to hear your story !!

over the years, i think it’s plain to see that he’s become more comfortable with expressing his more feminine attributes, which has always comforted you as his friend.

he understands the feeling of being uncomfortable with the gender roles one is expected to follow, so he empathizes with you.

in terms of his actual first reaction, i think it would be pretty similar to what i suggested in the other version of this.

(my bias is showing but oH MY GOSH I STILL THINK THIS WOULD BE SO CUTE-)

“woo~” *insert little jazz hands here*

…

[cries] anyways-

you feel really comfortable coming to him with this, and you’re happy when you do !!

✰ JISUNG

maybe it’s because i’ve seen tweets about it, but i feel like this dude knows everything there is to know about modern gender identity topics and neopronouns and stuff

after the initial awkwardness of the conversation (and a big supportive hug ofc) he’d be stoked to talk about it !!

would ask for your pronouns right away !!! he might also do the thing where he uses them in a sentence.

“y/n !!! ze’s so cool !!!!!!!”

i think if he saw someone misgender you (by accident) he wouldn’t correct them for you out of in-the-moment nerves, but he’d be very proud of you if you do it yourself !!

might buy you a snack afterward tbh

but if HE ever misgenders you OHHHHH goodness gracious

HE WOULD FEEL SOOO BAD AH

EVEN IF IT’S LIKE.. THE NEXT DAY

he’d get so very embarrassed and apologetic SDKFJ you’d have to really assure him that it’s not that big of a deal since he’s still adjusting to things, but he’d still feel like he has to make it up to you in some way

would probably buy you snacks again LMAO

✰ FELIX

i think he would be really excited !!

we know felix really loves and is passionate about androgynous/genderless forms of expression, especially in regard to appearance, so he’d probably really enjoy talking about gender and stereotypes with you !!

(if you’re comfy with it, ofc)

honestly, felix would be really encouraging and would help you gain more confidence !!!!!

if you ever feel like trying out a new look, he’d be like “OK BESTIE LET’S GO SHOPPING”

tbh he’d probably try it out with you !! or if you hang out often, he’d probably subconsciously start finding inspiration in your style and adopt it a bit himself

on days where you feel a bit down for whatever reason, especially in regard to dysphoria, his first instinct would be to cheer you up by reminding you how unique and cool you are.

and it’s not just because you’re nonbinary but also because you’re just a super cool person !!!!!!!!!! and i think so too !!!!!!!!!!!! never forget it !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

so overall, i feel like felix wouldn’t be very hard to come out to once you get over your initial nerves, and the end result would be super fun :D

✰ SEUNGMIN

i think his initial reaction would be pretty similar to chan’s !!

he also seems like the type to be super, super diligent with adjusting to whatever pronouns you feel comfortable using or words you’re okay with him using to refer to you.

(maybe it’s because we know he was a good student and he’s diligent with practicing his english. training his brain to correct itself would be like studying for him lol)

for example, instead of calling you “pretty” or “handsome,” he might even try simply pointing out a part of your appearance that he thinks looks especially great !! something like your eyes, your hair, your outfit, etc.

your hair looks great today, btw. anyways-

aside from that, i think he would just try to be as courteous as possible without making a big deal out of things.

and if he ever slips up with your pronouns, descriptors, etc, he’d be super quick to apologize and correct himself before keeping the conversation going like normal !!

there’s just generally a lot of mutual respect all around :)

✰ JEONGIN

this is somewhat similar to my other version of this reaction, but i think he’d just be really intrigued and a little shocked

IDK WHY I KEEP THINKING HIS ABILITY TO GAUGE THESE THINGS IS SO BAD DKFJ every time i think about someone coming out to him i just can’t help but picture him being like “reaLLY??? since WHEN”

still, something deep within my soul is telling me that jeongin would truly think you’re the coolest person on the planet.

being as he can’t personally relate to this, jeongin would be pretty psyched to hear about your journey to finding out !! kinda the opposite reaction to changbin lol

honestly he’d be a super good listener !!!!

he’d hear you out for however long you explain things to him, and if you ever get a bit emotional, he might smile at you or reach out to hold your hand :’) or both :’’’’’)

then, when you tell him your preferred pronouns he’s like “oH okay !! coOL !!!” lmao

so, he understands the concept and is super happy for you but he just didn’t really expect it !!

tags: @stayndays​, @hanniiesuckle17​, @leggomylino​, @freckledberries​,@kisskissbanggang​, @mr-jisung-main​, @childofthecosmos​,@kpopscape​, @skzwriternet​, @hyunsins​, @sleepylixie​, @sunshine-skz​, @vera-liscious​, @moonlit-lixie​, @thatrandomoneinthecorner​, @sunshine-skz​ ( join my tag list !! )

©️ cotccotc 2021 ~ all rights reserved. do not repost my work on tumblr or other platforms.

[ladyc0312]

A Jikook Guide to RunBTS: 91-101

Sometimes, I think about some of the moments I list here and start to worry that I'm reading too much into things. And I'll be the first to admit that a bunch of them are ambiguous enough that reasonable people can differ in their interpretation. 

The thing about jikook, though, is that there are so many of these eyebrow-raising types of moments that you could throw out half of them and still have enough left over to think "there's something up with those two." Especially in the following episodes...

Ep 91 "Mini Golden Bell Part 1" (Ep: 3 / KM: 1)

The ones where they make the best of sitting on the floor of an empty room and Jin and JK just barely manage to avoid murdering Tae over his less-than-excellent MC skills

03:35 - Everyone is confident that the "oh!" sound that's played is either JK or JM, but aren’t sure which is which. 

8:14 - When JM gets the right answer, JK is the only one to clap.

16:38 - JK is once again the only one to clap when JM gets an answer right.

Ep 92 "Mini Golden Bell Part 2" (Ep: 3 / KM: 2)

15:00 - As he goes to measure JK's arm, JM informs everyone that JK's arms have gotten longer since he's been boxing.

15:54 - When JM keeps moving around while JK is trying to measure his arm, JK tells Suga to hold JM still. 

16:31 - When JM's arm somehow seems to get slightly shorter from his stretching, JK gets excited and calls him "Jimin" (no hyung) a few times and then "Jimin-ssi."

20:03, 20:18 - When JK is singing his karaoke love song, the other guys are all over-emoting or swaying and listening, but JM just stares straight at him (and even looks genuinely emotional?) and the camera just stops showing him at a certain point. See picture above. 

20:46 - When JK starts to criticize Suga's cham cham cham performance, Jimin tells JK to just sit down. And he does.  

BEHIND 5:48 - After RM tries to comfort JM about his short arms by saying his legs are long, JK repeats "yes, your legs are long" and then sings a lyrics with JM's name inserted ("moon, moon, what kind of moon jiminie")

Ep 93 "BTS Marble Part 1" (Ep: 4 / KM: 3)

The ones where I still don’t understand this game but enjoy the episodes involving it anyway

0:42: Not jikook-related, but I can't not point out the adorable moment where RM makes a pun about how Marble sounds like the way Koreans pronounce Marvel and JK says "I love you 3000" to himself. 

10:22 - JM and JK are sitting pretty close all episode, but it's particularly apparent here, where JM's arm is resting on JK's thigh as they read a question together.

10:40 - Reading the question is long done, but JM's arm remains. 

12:21 - JM pats JK's shoulder in comfort after he messes up a question.

16:14 - After the heart-making game is over, JM and JK make hearts towards each other once more.

20:21 - JK taps JM's leg while sweetly reminding him that the pedometer game is difficult. Then they lean in to strategize together. 

21:07 - JM pats JK's back when he ends up winning the pedometer game, then again when it seems like JK was tired out by it. BEHIND 1:15 - JK is sitting next to JHope in this shot. The next time we see them, JM is there instead and stays there the rest of the game.

2:10 - JK pats JM's hand after JM says that the winning team should share with the losing one so no one's feelings are hurt.

2:48 - JM appears to be sitting half in JK's lap as he explains his answer.

4:41 - JM leans into JK as he laughs. 

5:51 - Another angle of the 16:14 moment.

6:25 - JM is half in JK's lap again as they watch the other team eat snacks. When JK says it looks good, JM gets a piece for him and rather intensely watches him eat it.

8:40 - JM and JK continue working on a puzzle after the game is over. When JM solves it, he shakes his whole body and makes cute frustrated noises. JK looks like he finds it adorable (how could you not?). Jimin does it again closer to JK's face and JK looks away shyly. 

Ep 94 "BTS Marble Part 2" (Ep: 4 / KM: 3)

4:20 - JM & JK trace a line with their fingers together in sync and the on-screen text informs us "two hands are moving like one hand."

7:24 - After JM and JK mess up in a game, the reach towards each other and hold each other's shoulders while collapsing in giggles onto the game board. The caption dubs them "dumb and dumber."  

16:28 - JM has his arm around JK's shoulders (while continuing from last ep to be half on his lap).

23:13 - When they're going back and forth about who should do the challenge, JM puts his hand on JK's thigh (the far one, for some reason) to tell him that he (JM) might get a leg cramp if he does it. JK does the challenge. 

24:12 - After JK loses the leg-shaking game by only one point, JM comforts him by massaging his thigh, shin, and calf.

BEHIND  0:29 - JK yells out "Jimin-ssi!!!" after JM gets an answer wrong.

1:54 - Another angle of the 7:24 collapsing together on the board moment.

4:03 - More of JM with his arm around JK.

7:48 - JM and JK stay behind to geek out together over some sort of kitchen appliance.

Ep 95 "Let's Play with BTS Part 1" (Ep: 3 / KM: 2)

The ones where BTS play childhood games 

9:17 - JK whispers to JM to ask for clarification on the rules.

11:18 - JK falls backwards laughing and, immediately after, JM does exactly the same thing.

15:23 - JK comments on how small Jimin's hands are.

31:33 - JM shushes JK when he tries to give advice on the game.

34:32 - JK puts his hand on JM's shoulder and asks for a snack.

BEHIND

7:40 - JM and JK giggle together over something.

7:56 - JK wants to show JM a jacks technique.

8:18 - JM and JK giggle together again and JM puts his hand on JK's arm as they do so.

10:24 - When JK adjusts the cameras, JM says JK is the director, then congratulates him and offers him candy when he's done.

Ep 96 "Let's Play with BTS Part 2" (Ep: 4 / KM: 3)

The one where we get the origin of “Rock Bison” - and it’s rather jikook-y!

3:18 - JM sees that JK is sad because he didn't get the top he wanted, so JM gives JK his top and takes the Rock Bison one that no one else wanted. 

11:32 - JK giggles at JM repeatedly throwing his top in the background.

22:52 - JM and JK do a weird backwards handshake before competing against each other in the eraser game.

23:56 - JK claps for JM after JM beats him in the game.

31:11 - JK consults JM on which lane to choose for his model car.

33:46 - When JM reaches out to take a box that might be heavy, JK watches and stands up as if ready to assist. BEHIND 6:51 - JM stands with his hand on JK's shoulder as they watch RM compete.

6:57 - JM holds JK's arms from behind and acts as resistance for him as he does arm-lifting exercises. 

10:19 - An off-camera JM tries to help JK figure out what's why the model car he built is so slow.

Ep 97 "Pajama Party Part 1" (Ep: 4 / KM: 4)

The ones where the guys wear cute pajamas and yes the Behind picture in the second part is real!

5:49 - We see that JM and JK have been drawing on their socks together. More on this in the Behind...

11:14 - JK is lying in JM's lap and they're playing around with their feet. This one is also expanded in the Behind!

22:13 - JK pokes a rod he is playing with in between Jimin's asscheeks. I... have been searching for a less suggestive way to describe this accurately and I keep coming up empty. Blame JK, not me!

22:38 - Another entry in our ongoing "it's JM's fault if JK thinks everything he does is hilarious" series, JM collapses laughing when JK skips back to the group carrying a Cooky doll attached to the rod like he hunted it. (In JM's defense, JK does look incredibly adorable doing it.)

23:54 - JK reaches over and touches Jimin's hand and the camera immediately cuts to something else.  

Note: For fans of JK's satoori, it comes out multiple times in this episode when he gets frustrated with various members after they get a question wrong.

BEHIND 2:41 - JM calls for Taehyung to come sit next to him. JK does instead. 

3:04 - JM rests his foot on JK's thigh as they both draw on their socks.

4:07 - After JM finishes showing off the drawings on his socks, he points the camera to JK in full focus mode finishing his drawings and JM smiles like it's the most adorable thing ever. 

5:26 - I'm sure you've all seen this clip already somewhere, but I'll describe it anyway! After JK tucks his feet under Suga's robe, JM pulls him back so he's laying in JM's lap. JM then puts his arms around JK as he grabs his decorated socked feet to show him while making silly noises. JK then picks up his foot to show his drawn-on sock and makes a different silly noise, causing JM to giggle. The shot gets cut off mid-giggle for whatever reason...

5:53 - JM rests his foot on JM's back while he adds to his sock art. 

7:52 - When JK stretches his arm out to indicate some of the members, he maybe puts his hand on JM's back for a moment.

Ep 98 "Pajama Party Part 2" (Ep: 4 / KM: 1)

You'd think this would be a super jikook-y episode given those pictures, but strangely enough, there are no moments of note in the episode itself. Since you can see the pics without watching the ep, I didn’t include them in the KM score.

BEHIND 1:20 - JM complains to JK that he hasn't gotten any answers right so far.  Some people have matched this to a round of the game in the episode itself where JK doesn't seem to be guessing as enthusiastically as he did before, perhaps in an attempt to make JM feel less bad. I mention it here because it's a theory I've seen a lot, but YMMV.

7:50 - JK shows JM that he has attached J and M balloons to his shirt while saying "JM" and "Jimin," making JM giggle. 

Ep 99 "Florists" (Ep: 5 / KM: 3)

The one where we learn that Jin probably doesn't have a future as a florist

4:33 - When JM starts to get embarrassed because everyone is laughing about his birth flower name sounding like a dirty word in Korean, JK rubs JM's neck and then continues rubbing circles on his back for a while after, seemingly to comfort him. 

19:05 - When Jimin looks confused after RM says he comes out of a glass bowl in Serendipity, JK lightly slaps him on the chest for forgetting. It's almost like it has some sort of personal meaning to him...

28:05 - After JK presents the bouquet he made (which he says represents all different kinds of love), JM says "I think I'll love it when I get it as a present."  Translation note: As we've discussed before, Korean can be hard to translate because often pronouns are omitted. A more literal translation is "present if received will be loved." Most translations that I've seen interpret it as Jimin talking about himself as the recipient, but it's not totally clear. Mentioning this because I know I was wondering why this moment isn't talked about more, since it seems fairly suggestive that JM would assume JK was going to give him a bouquet of flowers he made.

28:38 - When JM explains what "Serendipity" means, he's looking at JK (I think - I'll be totally honest and say the angle is weird and it could be RM).

31:02 - After the florist picks J-Hope's bouquet over JK's as his favorite, JM comments that Jungkook's "looks like a real bouquet for a wedding."

Ep 100 "100th Episode Special Part 1" (Ep: 4 / KM: 3)

The ones where the show does enhanced editions of games previously played on the series and you will walk away with zero doubt as to whom the episodes are sponsored by

21:36 - When it looks like Suga hit Jimin with the badminton birdie, but he actually made a bad serve, JK approaches with his frying pan racket held out and an angry look on his face and starts to scold Suga.  I’ve seen this written up as a jikook moment with JK being over-protective of JM. I’m going to be totally honest with you and say that I didn’t see it that way - JK had been getting increasingly annoyed at the other team re-doing serves and my read was that the moment was more about that. Let me know if you see it differently.  Regardless, the more significant moments are the ones in the Behind...

BEHIND 4:13 - When JM is hit near the eye with the badminton birdie, JK goes over to him and checks on whether his eye was hit. JM reaches out towards him as he gets up. It's interesting to me that the others stand back and let JK be the one to check in on JM, even though Tae and Jin were both closer when it happened. 

5:03 - Not a jikook moment, but JK is doing an adorable cheerleading routine in the background here and I can't not mention it...

8:39 - When JM sees that Jin and JK aren't messing around and JK was actually hit in the nose with the volleyball, he gets serious and walks over, asking him multiple times if it hurts a lot. He ruffles JK's hair before kneeling down next to him to check in.

Ep 101 "100th Episode Special Part 2" (Ep: 4 / KM: 1)

17:40 - JM tells everyone JK is good at this type of game.

BEHIND

1:06 - JK instructs Jimin (in half-informal language) how to work the box.

5:50 - JK calls out to Jimin that his photo makes him look like he's in a cartoon (and there's a slight pause when he calls him in between "Jimin" and "hyung").

7:09 - Jimin asserts that JK does look sexy in the "sexy pose" photo. He is imho correct.

9:15 - When JM is playing around after the game is over, he calls for Jungkook to cover him

100th Episode Special: Survival Directors Cut (Ep: 2 KM: 0)

5:32 - JM covers JK with his laser gun, allowing JK to escape.  Not particularly shippy since they're on the same team, but including it for anyone who wants a visual aid for some sort of military AU...

[itsclydebitches]

Not sure how I feel about anon bringing Yang not showing Salem empathy in that moment as a bad thing. Like if an immortal witch was trying to murder/kill all of my friends my reaction probably wouldn't be "how do you feel though"

That's been my response too, anon, though I understand where the previous anon is coming from. Though Salem started out as a generic Big Bad with no redeemable qualities, Volume 6 showed us a captive woman who was later tortured by the gods and sought death, only to find herself changed instead, thereby raising the question for the audience, "How much of the Big Bad's action is Salem and how much of it is the evil grimm magic acting upon her?" Just as important, Volume 8 gave us Cinder's backstory and a scene of her crying on the rooftop, alongside the forgiveness of Emerald and Hazel. I could go on another rant about how this sympathy didn't extent to Ironwood and, in a different way, didn't extend to Ozpin either, but outside of that there's been a very strong message of, "Abuse victims and people who have just generally suffered - lost a sister, lived on the streets - should be shown compassion and given a second chance," which becomes a problem when we consider that the most prominent villain with an abusive backstory since Volume 6 has not been extended that compassion. Gender dynamics aside, it's the same problem fans have with Adam's ending considering that his brand was revealed right before he died. The go-to explanations of, "But Adam was his own abuser who stalked Blake" and "Salem is literally trying to destroy the world" fall a little flat when pit against "But it's okay for Emerald to manipulate Pyrrha into killing Penny?" and "Hazel has also knowingly helped Salem try to take over the world. And also murdered countless huntsmen. And also was torturing a kid." It's not so easy to go, "The story shouldn't show them compassion because they're The Worst" when the story is already showing compassion to people who... are also The Worst. I say all this not as a way to excuse any one character's actions - I'm not in the business of going, "[insert horrific choice here] is fine actually!" - but rather to acknowledge that RWBY lacks a clear divide between what actions are forgivable and what actions are not. Fans aren't wrong to go, "If you expect me to feel for Cinder after everything she's done since Episode 1 and you expect me to laugh along with the cast after everything Emerald has done, why isn't Salem Adam Ironwood Ozpin getting that same sort of work?" Given the "trust love" message and the strong push to sympathize with/outright redeem heinous characters, a lot of fans are wondering why our cast hasn't even mentioned all the shit Salem went through. It's been months now since they watched Jinn's vision and they're accepting former villains into their ranks now because Life is Hard and they deserve that chance, but no one cares to even mention everything Salem went through and debate her own responsibility. Surely if they can forgive Emerald for willingly working with her, there's at least some room to discuss the question of Salem's morality in the context of two Gods' manipulations and a magical pool having some kind of impact on her. There's a disconnect here. The story can't go, "These heinous people are Good deep down, actually" without extending that to all our villains, Salem included.

(All of which, btw, is tied up in the frustration that the group hasn't discussed the vision at all. The question of Salem's morality is tied up in the question of her defeat. For example, if they decide they're not comfortable with killing her, that might lead to theories on how to contain her instead...)

So ALL OF THAT is churning in the back of fans' minds. I agree 100% that the group's capture was not the time to extend any sympathy for Salem and I've got posts out there saying the exact same as you, anon: "You really expect Yang to be compassionate after Salem was torturing Oscar, captured them, was planning to kill them, is attacking the city, and just reminded her of her dead mom? C'mon." The problem lies in the fact that we haven't gotten this kind of work anywhere else, the cast has barely mentioned Salem anywhere else - outside of freaking out over her arrival - so when a member of our main group is suddenly right next to her and they're discussing the concept of loss, some fans are like, "AHHHH TALK ABOUT WHAT SALEM HAS LOST TOO GODDAMMIT." It's putting an unfair expectation on Yang and the scene because, again, I don't think that was the time or place for discussing the nuances of morality in a fantasy setting, but because everything else around Salem has been so badly written, and Yang's scene was the closest we've ever gotten to scratching that itch... fans get frustrated that it didn't happen, no matter how unfair or ridiculous that frustration might seem. Really, I don't think fans, in a general sense, actually want Yang to sympathize with Salem then and there. That would be a whole other, messy can of worms given the context. But they want something and at this point "something" has become accepting even really bad versions of what they're looking for. Since no one discussed the vision at the farm, or at Argus, or any time in Atlas, fans are metaphorically throwing up their hands with a, "Well, if we have to delve into Salem's character only when she's doing the most damage in the entire series then fine! You didn't do it earlier when you should have, so this is just what we're left with! Better then nothing! I'm sick of watching Cinder cry and Emerald make quips and Hazel go out in a blaze of heroics and we still haven't even mentioned that our primary antagonist went through more shit than the three of them combined. Am I supposed to be compassionate towards the bad guys or not? Make up your mind, RWBY."

RWBY is a hot mess and the mistakes the story has made, sadly, are not easily separated from one another. Frustration over Yang's scene is prioritizing one problem over another. Namely, the problem of Salem's characterization over the problem of having your hero go "How do you feel though?" while the bad guy is about to kill her. RWBY has backed itself into a corner, both problems exist, but we can only easily discuss one at a time. Similarly, if someone goes, "Ugh they really need to work on Emerald's redemption in Volume 9" people are correct to go, "But if they do that then Volume 8 will look even worse since they've already forgiven her" or "But that's going to be so messy if they're flip-flopping between Vacuo and the island world. Should they even redeem her without the main girls around?" And it's like yes! Exactly! None of these are good options. RWBY has written a situation where ANY choice is going to be a problem on some level because none of this story has been well thought out. So it comes down to which problem an individual fan considers to be, well, more of a problem. In Yang's case it's going, "I will gladly sacrifice the integrity of this scene to get some acknowledgement of a theme that has existed for Salem since early Volume 6 and is now being heavily pushed on other characters in Volume 8. If a stupid moment where Yang is kind to Salem while she's captured is what it takes to start this conversation then fine. I'll take it. Especially when Oscar was kind to Hazel while captured and tortured. You already gave us the stupid scene - just do it again and actually get something out of it this time!"

It is, as said, a twisting, turning mess.

[ladymacbeth3759]

Analysis on Luca Guadagnino’s film (2) - Call Me By Your Name

This is really long, so please have patience while reading this. And because I translated it to English from my original language, there might be some mistakes.

Link to (1):

One of the most significant metaphor in this film is the greek statue. These sensual and ancient figures symbolize the nature of desire and physicality, and also represent the instinctive, irresistible love between Elio and Oliver. As an example, in the scene of cataloging the pictures of the statues, the words of Elio's father express these significance. Another scene also shows this metaphor very well. There is a scene in which the two have a little confrontation and after the subtle fight and jealousy, the camera shows the scene where they lift up the statue from the ocean. This scene can be interpreted as a metaphor that the desire became visible by bringing it above the surface as it began to be expressed as an emotion of jealousy. It means that the boundaries of emotions that were unclear until then have gradually became clearer. After the statue was brought up, the two call each other's names in a swimming scene. If there is a guideline in love, the first step will be recognizing each other's ‘existence’ (metaphysically speaking), and the last step will be taking a full look at each other's ‘existence’, the true self, a state of unity in which the other person becomes the other one, and vice versa, which is the idealistic idea of love. In that respect, it can be said that the two have already entered the stage of destined love. Following this, after making love for the first time, they call each other by their names.

    

In the next scene, the camera focuses on Elio sitting on a bench and reading a book, following the narration:

    

‘The Cosmic Fragments by Herclitus’

    

“The meaning of the river flowing is not that all things are changing so that we cannot encounter them twice but that some things stay the same only by changing.“

    

Human beings are existents that change from moment to moment, and human identity is what grows due to conflicting elements or events. One of the reasons ‘Call Me By Your Name’ is such a special movie is that it can be a movie about love but also can be a movie about growing up. In this scene, Oliver's voice specifically puts the contents of the book as a narration because probably he is the very ‘moment’, the very elicitor in Elio's life. Although it is not revealed through dialogue or narration in this film, Elio has a very important moment of choice. Before making his first love with Oliver, he continues to engage with Marzia. If we learn that some important moment will change ourselves forever, it will probably be confusing and we will try to stay in the stability that we’re standing on right now. So Elio looks forward to meet Oliver, but he also feels nervous that something might change in himself. Perhaps Oliver left the book in an attempt to share the voice of wisdom with Elio? Like a flowing river, humans will always change, and even in the moment of change, we will still be perfectly ‘ourselves’. Perhaps this is the most important narrative in growing into life.

    

In this film, there are many voices overlapping between scenes, which kind of reminds of the act of retracing memories through one’s mind. (When we sometimes try to remember various scenes from the past, some imagery or voices pop up first before continuing to the next scene.) Also when it is a scene that Elio's emotions are maximized, music is inserted, which can be seen as a hint that this was based on Elio's memories. And the scenes where the focus becomes blurry can also be the evidence of this assumption.

    

In an interview, director Luca said that the meaning of true love is to accept difference as itself. In other words, it can be said that true love is not distorting the other into an stereotyped image, but seeing the other’s true ‘self’ clearly. After the scene where Elio realizes his desire and makes a first kiss with Oliver, the camera captures the image of Elio, waiting for Oliver who is too cautious about love, who is trying so hard not to surrender. And the narration comes in the middle of this scene. 'Do I know you?' Elio asks himself if he ‘truly’ knows Oliver. Or Oliver truly knows him. Often in romance movies, looking into each other's eyes is considered a cliché. As it is said that the eye is the window to the soul, the act of looking at the eye is the final gesture of love, the gesture of wanting to understand other’s true soul (the existence, the idée-edea). This is realized when the two make love for the first time and change each other's names. What's interesting here is that it was Oliver, not Elio, who suggested this first. Even though the desire became visible, it was Elio who actively expressed it, and Oliver was the one who relatively rejected it and avoided it. Remind ourselves what Elio's father said at the very end of the movie. “Nature has cunning ways of finding our weakest spot”. Oliver, who is older and probably has some experience with love, is actually being realistic avoiding Elio. The fact that Oliver’s wound from riding a bike became more festered after the first kiss with Elio suggests that the nature has discovered such a weakness (love for Elio) from Oliver. It is also understandable that Oliver, who has completely surrendered for the fatalistic love after this, wants a full understanding of the other. He understands how love can make a person helpless and lead to despair. When people don’t try to see each other as the complete ‘true self’ or accept difference as itself, relationships between people becomes inevitably distorted and tragic. He has rejected the love for Elio because of this fear (including practical reasons), but nature brought him down to a state of exposure. Therefore, asking each other to call as each other's names can be seen that Oliver finally accepted what he refused because he was too afraid of being hurt or hurting the other, and praying only for the complete love from now on.

    

There are two related scenes that are very interesting to see in this regard. There is a scene where Oliver deliberately dances closely with another woman in front of Elio's eyes, and the next day the two confront each other. At that time, in the scene passing through the door, the person who passes through first, that is, the person who leads, is Oliver. And after the two have made love for the first time (when Oliver is completely surrendered by nature of love), in an awkward atmosphere, Elio passes through the door before Oliver. Through these two scenes, we can see that the power dianamic, or superiority in this relationship has been completely reversed.

    

At a square with a monument commemorating the Battle of Piave, the camera takes a brief shot ascending towards the sky. This is the scene where Elio confesses his love to Oliver without saying that he loves him. In previous work of Luca, he used movements of camera to symbolically express relationships and emotions between characters. From that point of view, perhaps it can be seen as a symbol that Elio's desire has risen to its peak, and at the same time, the change in the relationship between the two begins to drive forward. And although it may be a coincidence, the camera takes a shot from top to bottom in the scene where the two go on a trip together, before the scene where Oliver has to leave. And after a moment of the descending camera movement, there is a scene where Oliver remembers the memories of the two at Piave Square while watching Elio, who fell asleep after making love at the hotel. Then he abruptly turns to the side as the news of the sudden breakup attacks(the sound of the train). And immediately after that, the sound overlappes the scene of the train station. It is as if the journey of the two's love was brought up by fate and then settled down again.

    

The timing of this film and the Battle of Piave are also closely related. Because the time where they are in is the summer of 1983, that is, the time of the AIDS wave. They are in a kind of virtual world that is closely connected with the reality around them, as if they were in the eyes of a typhoon. Like Elio, who confessed love while standing next to a statue that symbolizes the damages, death of the war(which can be interpreted as the AIDS situation where hundreds of people’s lives were at stake), the gap between the world in which the two are staying and the real world outside the shell is expressed very interestingly in this film.

    

Another interesting ‘connection’ in this movie is the scene where Elio watches Oliver dancing. There are only two scenes where Oliver dances based on the same song. Elio, enamored with jealousy in the first scene, drinks while watching Oliver, and in the second scene, this continues to Elio being drunk while watching Oliver, and after that he vomits. Personally, I think these two scenes symbolize the beginning and the end. It is the structure of continuation in the movie. Like a formal symbol where a love like drunkenness begins and ends.

    

It is no coincidence that Oliver is the only American in this film, and is set in the position of a student who stays only for the summer. This is because the symbol of the stranger who suddenly appeares in the landscape where everything else perfectly melts into the background means, that the essence of love is that the differences between two world eventually make contact with each other's eyes. Even the difference ‘itself’ is accepted without any distortion. That is the purpose and theme of this film. When I watch this movie, I sometimes think that what this movie is trying to say is completely different from the other typical queer movies. Other queer movies pay attention to the “queerness” of queer, but this movie rather pays attention to the “universality”. The universality of enjoying and appreciating love is shared from all kinds of people all over the world. Despite being a queer film set in the 80s, there are no obstacles between the two protagonists. It is a choice to only show the journey of love, that magical universality. I'm a pessimetic person, so naturally I’m kind of skeptical of this so-called ‘universality’ and ‘nature of love’ that a film like this presents. Can you really accept someone with its full self without any distortion? Isn't the first thing to be addressed is the anwser to the question of ‘what is the essence of human being?’. Human senses inevitably entail distortion, and the brain, where survival instinct and the reason are mixed, attempts to shrink and simplify the multi-layered and obscure nature of humans to a minimum. Isn't the existence of others inevitably bound to collide with another? As other reviews of mine will say, I'm skeptical, but I'm not hopeless. This is because I think that the state of struggling to try is perhaps the only goal that humans should have. Maybe Director Luca have different opinions from mine, but I see this movie as part of that attempt. This fantasy, fairy tale love story looks so perfect and ideal. The director's attempt to present it as some kind of a living experience is definitely admirable.

    

In the last scene, when the camera calmly captures Elio's face and the ending credit goes up, the lingering emotion we feel is quite unforgettable. That scene feels ike they are finally proclaiming that this magical experience was forever over. When Elio's mother calls out towards Elio, what Elio heard was the obituary of the one united person, someone, Elio and Oliver.

[darkpoisonouslove]

Winx Club Rewrite Is a Go

I don’t know how I ended up here because I’ve always maintained that rewrites aren’t my thing (and I still kinda do) because it feels a lot like reading the same thing over and over again and to me it can be annoying. Yet, here I am with my very own Winx Club rewrite.

I started writing the first episode today but I have A LOT planned out already. Seasons 1 and 3 are pretty solid already even if there is still a lot of character work to be done and logistics to be figured out. I also have some structure for seasons 2 and 4 and I figured out the backstory of the Wizards of the Black Circle yesterday and that gave me an indescribable feeling which is pretty much what I took as a sign that it’s time to talk about this project.

To explain what I am doing - I am taking everything and changing it while keeping it the same. If that doesn’t make sense, then imagine that I am keeping the major plot points and most of the episodes (I have removed some because they are just irrelevant) have the same starting and ending point as they do on the show but there are big changes between those. Seasons 5, 6 and - you’ll find out in a sec - are going to have a lot more changes. I have removed transformations and switched around some of the transformations so that they are earned at a different point than in canon. I have picked a place to end this already and I have arcs for each season.

Now when it comes to the seasons, I have removed season 7 which will be done as a “movie” and will have additional plot still because there really is THAT little to season 7. Season 8 becomes season 7 in my rewrite and is the last and final season. It is the end of Winx’ journey and I think it is a satisfying end to a pretty long story. I am keeping the movies but:

1) There will probably be “movies” after seasons 1 and 2 as well just to make the structure make sense and because I feel like there is enough to be talked about between the seasons.

2) SotLK is majorly different from canon because there was no sense to that movie and only plot holes instead. I’ve saved what was salvageable from it and mostly put it in season 3 to free the whole movie for more interesting and logical stuff to happen. The end goal is the same, though - bringing Marion and Oritel (and Domino) back.

3) Magical Adventure is the least changed but there will be several changes here as well. The plan is to make the movie relevant on a wider level than just to Winx and the Specialists but I still don’t have that clear a vision of it. Just some things that I want to see but need piecing together.

3) The “movie” after season 5 will deal with the season 7 plot instead. I have switched them around. There will be Kalshara and Griffin and Faragonda and some major Bloom drama as well. I need to make these pieces connect, too, but this one feels almost coherent at the current time.

4) Politea is saved for the last movie that is after season 6. You’ll see why. Anyway, major Daphne and Bloom feelings are planned for that movie... and I don’t know what else yet. We’ll see.

I am currently working on all of the seasons and all of the movies at once so it is a bit of a mess. I write down and rewrite ideas. Everything is one big map in my head that isn’t completely translatable to someone else. Anyway, you can find everything I have posted about this in the “wc rewrite” tag. You can ask me questions if you have them and I’ll see how much I’ll share while trying to resist the urge to spoil everything because I have been at this for about 5 months now and I have so many ideas that I adore and want to talk about. Despite that I have no idea how quickly I can work on it. This is bound to take years which was the hardest part of this project for me to reconcile with but I really want to do it. So let’s see how that goes.

I want to say that I am planning on doing one episode a chapter but because I have decided to both develop the characters and be self-indulgent, that will make the chapters long. I don’t think that they are devoid of tension or action, however, because this thing is packed with so much stuff happening. Here’s a little sneak peak from the first episode:

“Bloom, honey, wake up,“ Vanessa’s mellow voice reached her through the colorful explosion into which her dream was retreating.

“Just five more minutes, mom,” Bloom mumbled as she wormed her head under the pillow to block out the interruption. She reached for the fairy princess in her dream with hair of liquid light and a touch like sinking through the reflective surface of a mirror that showed none of Bloom’s own features to her. She’d lose not just the way but her own self if she let go of the figure in front of her.

“You’ll be late for school, sleepy head.”

The woman evaporated in a heap of steam with a nasty hissing sound that rattled Bloom’s bones as she jumped into bed. Vanessa’s apologetic smile came into focus to draw a groan out of Bloom’s parched throat as she threw her head back.

“Not funny, mom,” Bloom grabbed her fallen pillow from the floor and plopped herself back down on her mattress, eyes wide open as the image of the fairy burned in her mind. “I wanted to see where she’d lead me!”

“Who?” Vanessa sat down on the edge of the bed.

“The fairy from my dream,” Bloom covered her eyes with her free hand to narrow her focus to the woman. “I’ve seen her before, I just...” she threw the pillow next to her on the mattress. “I can’t remember where.”

“Well, I’m not surprised. You’ve read every book on fairies that you could get your hands on. It’s only natural that they’ve started blurring together,” Vanessa chuckled.

“Yeah, but it’s not that.” Bloom shot up once again, her vision spinning for a moment from the sudden action. “She’s not a character. She’s something... someone else.” She twisted a strand of hair around her finger looking for the warmth enveloping her at the presence of the mystery fairy. It couldn’t be the first time she’d dreamed about her but she couldn’t recall more than that. “Grandma always said that dreams are important.” Another reason not to let go of the fleeting imagery in her head.

“I’m pretty sure she meant the other kind of dreams,” Vanessa’s amusement was more of a ghost itself now that Bloom had mentioned the newest loss in their family. It was her who had to stay open and talk to Bloom about Mike’s mother when he froze every time the topic was brought up until Bloom could no longer bear to cause him that. “Did you finish your art project last night? I sure hope it was inspiration that kept you up so late and not the lack of it.”

Bloom beamed despite the deflection. “I did!” She jumped out of bed as her mom made space for her to launch herself at her desk where her masterpiece was covered by stray sheets to keep her parents from peeking without her there to see the reactions. Finals had really inserted themselves in all areas of her life–including dreams–to throw a wrench in her works. Finishing a drawing she’d been sitting on for over a month had let her breathe fresh air again. “Here it is.” She pulled two sheets from the pile. “This is the sketch I did during spring break.” She’d spent a whole day wandering Gardenia looking for the building to put her vision into. “And here is the one I’ve reimagined.”

Vanessa gasped, hands flying to her mouth as her eyes gleamed with unformed tears. Not unlike her response to Bloom’s first steps in art back when she’d been three but, somehow, her reactions had developed to match Bloom’s growing skillset without giving undue credit.

Bloom’s heart swelled in her chest with pride boosted by the trust she had in her mom. Her work was almost complete now that it’d accomplished the desired effect with one parent. She’d been in awe herself by the alterations she’d made to Earth architecture to make it elaborate and alien enough for a fantasy... something. She still couldn’t decide what format she wanted to create her world in. Comics were a handy option but a vision of an elusive deal for a TV show still reared its head every time she reached for a pencil and a blank sheet of paper. And there was, of course, the popularity of video games accompanied by her lack of skills or contacts when it came to coding. There was always one more step to the door of her fairy utopia but she had to focus on the art for now.

“I hope that keeping this up will be easier after school is done stifling my inspiration,” Bloom chewed on her lip as she waited for her mom to collect herself enough to give the verdict of whether a summer job was about to take over that function now.

“Uninspired? You?” Vanessa shook her head in disbelief. “Honey, you have the imagination to create worlds and I am sure that one day you will,” Vanessa reached out cautiously towards the museum Bloom had created for her fantasy world. Her fingers barely brushed the paper to leave no traces of their presence and the bittersweet look on her face was too much for Bloom to stand. Her art was not meant to be an untouchable monument. It was supposed to be a temple, a home. Maybe her yearning had come through too well.