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demonslayedher · 3 years

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How Does Eating Humans Work?

Hello, Gotou here. We’re shamelessly borrowing from the format of a KnY Fanbook #2 comic to launch an investigation into demon metabolism and development by crossing the Sanzu River again to interview demons in the underworld. While we’ll be using canon materials as a base, the analysis and conjecture herein is personal, so we ask for your understanding. Also, please note that consuming any food in the underworld will make you unable to return, and we cannot promise your safety even though the interview subjects are dead, so please come along at your own risk.

Some of the questions we’d like to answer are, why do demons need to eat humans? How much do they need to eat to survive? Are there factors that influence how eating humans makes them stronger? If they don’t want to kill humans, what are their other options? We’ve rounded up some special guests below the cut (hidden for length and grossness), everyone from the lowly Temple Demon to the lovely Tamayo, to see what their actions in canon might tell us.

First, a review of what canon tells us, mostly as summarized in Fanbook #2: 1. With one exception named Yushirou, all demons were created by Kibutsuji Muzan, for his own purposes. They all have some amount of his blood, and can be divided into four classes depending on how powerful they are. From top to bottom, the Upper Moons, the Lower Moons, demons with special abilities, and other demons without any special characteristics. 2. Demons may be stronger depending on how much of Kibutsuji Muzan’s blood they have. Most beings’ cannot handle a large amount of his blood, and it will rupture the cells and that being will die, but there are demons who adapt well to it. 3. Typically, sunlight is the only way to kill a demon, by either bathing them in sunlight or cutting of their head with a Nichirin blade. However, there are powerful demons for whom chopping off their head does not work, and if it’s strong enough, demons can also be killed by wisteria poison.

4. Demons eat human blood and flesh. The more they eat, the stronger they become, and the faster their regenerative abilities become. Some humans have “Marechi,” a rare blood type, which is especially nutritious to demons, and eating one Marechi is the equivalent of eating several humans.

That’s an interesting thing we’d like to come back to, especially since we’re looking for quantitative information about how demons gain nutrition (though I have my doubts we'll get enough for statistical analysis). As an interesting note, Fanbook #2 also tells us that if demons try to consume the same edibles humans do, they’ll vomit it back up.

I’m told that Miss Tamayo drinks tea, though. That’ll be an interesting question for later. In my notes, it seems she’s also explained to Tanjirou back in Chapter 15 that demons will normally go berserk if they go a long time without consuming any blood or flesh. Berserk is one thing, but I wonder if they can starve to death? We’ll see if these canon clues will lead us to anything. We’ll begin now in an interview format. Hopefully this will go smoothly, but I’ve got a feeling it won’t. First up, we’ve the Temple Demon.

Temple: Who were you calling ‘lowly’ just now? Up there, above the cut?

Gotou: That was in a literal sense, not having Blood Techniques means you’re in the bottom common tier of demons.

Temple: Argh. Fine. What do you want to know?

Gotou: In Chapter 2, you were spotted with three human victims. However, it seems you left their bodies mostly intact and only ate small parts instead of consuming one full human at a time. Could you comment on this?

Temple: I’d have gotten to more later if that whelp with the strong legs didn’t interrupt me! Who’s got time to eat entire humans anyway? I went for the easy stuff first.

Gotou: I see. It appears you might had focused on key organs, like the heart and the liver. Would you say these are especially nutritionally dense?

Temple: I guess. If I’m going to eat humans, I’m going to start with what’s worth bothering to digest. Blood’s easier on the stomach, so that’s what I was busy with on the lady there.

Gotou: Then it takes effort to digest? Hmm. Let’s come back to this later. How many humans would you say you consumed, including these three?

Temple: Not a lot… I tried to get a variety so I could get stronger faster, but…

Gotou: I’ll put down a guess as ten or less. Let’s move on to someone who has a sharper memory for numbers. One of our longer-lived guests at Mt. Fujikasane for 47 years, the Hand Demon. While most of the demons on the mountain had only eaten two or three humans, you’ve eaten a whole 50 of the children who headed into the Final Selection, didn’t you?

Hand: Yes, that’s right. It was hard at first since I wasn’t very strong, and the demons usually all went crazy there eating each other, just like that one brat who got away in Chapter 7 said. If you could manage to kill any of the kids, you had the other demons to fight off to even get a piece to yourself. That was enough to get me by, and stronger, little by little. Your body learns to make your meals last, and make the most of what you can get. I usually only had a bite of one child a year, can you imagine how horrible that was? Most demons who survive usually figure out some way to develop and survive better, and once my cells found something that worked for me, I kept doing it. I got really good at snatching away prey from other demons, and soon enough I was a bigger threat than any of them. None of them could, you might say, lay a hand on me.

Gotou: That’s an interesting point about self-development. A demon named Nezuko was spent two years doing that in her sleep.

Hand: She must have had a big meal before that!

Gotou: Well, anyway. It seems that in near starving conditions, your metabolism made the most of what you had, leading to the most efficient use of whatever food was available to you.

Hand: That’s right, I got really good at it. Wasn’t always pretty, but I made it work. I got to a point where I could go two years without eating and still keep my wits about me while the other demons were going mad. But I chose to eat. I liked to keep my appetite for specific children.

Gotou: That smile is not reassuring. Some humans taste better than others, I guess?

Hand: That’s for sure. This one kid tasted awful, like rust and man sweat! I still don’t have that disgusting taste out of my mouth! But he was one of my more satisfying meals, so I ate more of him.

Gotou: Then why would you… nevermind, I don’t like that smile, no further questions. While I had hoped to keep these interviews focused on quantities of humans consumed, it does seem personal taste is worth asking about. I had tried to invite a Swamp Demon from Chapter 11, but it kept arguing with itself and it felt like I’d be wasting my time. The one definite thing I learned was that this demon is picky, with a distinct preference for 16-year-old girls. Based on the number of trinkets he kept, it seems he had consumed at least seventeen of them, including several in one town. Sheesh, that’s sort of a rough mission to send a first-timer on. I’ve got a more cooperative guest here to discuss her tastes, a Snake Demon who, according to Chapter 188, has a special taste for baby flesh.

Snake: Thank you for having me here. It’s good to be appreciated again.

Gotou: Did you only eat babies?

Snake: Goodness, no. Babies are delicious, but they aren’t very nutritious. And their skulls certainly aren’t that big, the ones I lounged around with were from the people whom I killed and stole from. But you know the nice thing about baby skulls? They’re still soft. They take a long time to digest, but I can swallow them whole.

Gotou: Like… like a snake, then. Sorry, I’m a little ill hearing that. Let’s back up, were all those skulls the remains of adults you ate, then?

Snake: Meh, I ate some of them of better-looking ones, but most of them I only killed. I could usually kill a lot more at a time than I could bother eating, my killing record was fifty women all at once.

Gotou: And you didn’t find that wasteful?

Snake: Wasteful? Not at all. I wasn’t exactly in dire straits, I lived a more luxurious life than most demons do. That meant I could afford to wait for a truly delicious meal, like how you humans might leave something in a slow-cooker to enjoy the perfect combination of doneness and tenderness, plated in the most appetizing of ways.

Gotou: I guess demons and humans are similar in that regard.

Snake: I’m so glad you can relate! Then you understand the frustration of a meal you’ve be preparing for years opening up the slow-cooker and running away right when they were just about done.

Gotou: I have never had that experience.

Snake: I’ll get you, my pretty. And your little snake, too.

Gotou: I think we might have gotten a little off-topic here. It does seem digesting humans comes with some difficulty. I’d like to invite the Drum Demon in next. Your name is Kyougai, I hear?

Kyougai: !!

Gotou: Kyogai, right?

Kyougai: You’ve heard of me! You know my name!

Gotou: I happened to, yes.

Kyougai: What have you heard???

Gotou: That you were kicked out of the Lower Moons for being unable to consume enough humans.

Kyougai: Oh. ……..yeah, that’s me.

Gotou: I thought demons go berserk if they go a long time without consuming humans. Wouldn’t that make an inability to consume them problematic?

Kyougai: It wasn’t that I couldn’t eat them! Like I said in Chapter 24, I had to in order to sustain myself, just like any other demon. But, at some point, I couldn’t eat as much as I used to. That happens to humans too, doesn’t it? When you just can’t stomach anymore?

Gotou: You mean like when you’ve overeaten? In a human’s case that feeling may go away within a few hours.

Kyougai: Sort of like that, but you know, humans reach a time when nothing is appetizing or the thought of eating makes them feel sick, right? Isn’t that the human condition?

Gotou: …uh… maybe if they have a medical condition? Or anxiety? Do demons get anxiety? Or eating disorders?

Kyougai: I… I don’t know. I just wasn’t good enough.

Gotou: I think it’s plenty good if you stopped eating humans. Though to have developed Blood Techniques and been a Lower Moon in the first place, you must had eaten a great number of them.

Kyougai: You think I’m great?

Gotou: What?

Kyougai: No, sorry, I was getting ahead of myself. It’s true, I used to be able to eat as many as the other Lower Moons always consumed. Our stomachs were stronger, you might say. Demons got strong by eating humans, and then the more you did that the better you usually got at it, so the strong ones would eat more and more and keep getting stronger and stronger. At least, that’s how it usually worked. I’ve seen other demons below me reached that point too, where they feel the drive to eat, but then they have trouble digesting it for a long time, so they don’t wind up eating that many people.

Gotou: Then it would make sense to eat the most nutritionally dense parts first.

Kyougai: Or a Marechi.

Gotou: Yes, or a Marechi.

Kyougai: It was a great idea, wasn’t it?

Gotou: I cannot condone any consumption of humans as a good idea.

Kyougai: I knew it. I’m nothing. Go ahead, stomp all over everything I ever tried to accomplish.

Gotou: I think I’m going to move on to my next interviewee now. It looks like we’ve got… oh, would you look at this? Lower Moon One. Enmu, I believe.

Enmu: You can believe whatever you want. I’m happy to help.

Gotou: I don’t need any help, thanks. I’m curious, since you were one of the stronger demons out there, it seems you had a stronger capacity for consuming humans.

Enmu: I did, I was always careful and paced myself so the Demon Slayers wouldn’t notice me. I took my time. I liked to enjoy e-e-e-a-c-h one.

Gotou: Then you had tastes too? Like babies, or 16-year-old girls?

Enmu: I could season any human to my liking. They’re all very easy to prepare.

Gotou: I’m still trying to get quantitative data. Can you tell me at least a rough estimate of how many humans you consumed?

Enmu: I told this more precisely to that boy with the earrings back in Chapter 59, and I can tell you this too. At my best, I could had eaten over two-hundred people at once if I took my time.

Gotou: OH MY GAW----sorry, I dropped my pen. Two hundred, at once?

Enmu: Yes. If I had just. Had. A little. More. Time.

Gotou: Clearly there is a huge difference between what common demons are capable of and what the Twelve Moons are capable of.

Daki: Psh, those were all any random common people. That’s nothing to brag about.

Gotou: Excuse me, and you are?

Daki: Daki, Upper Moon Six. You want something really impressive, you talk to the Upper Moons.

Gotou: I’m sorry, I don’t see you on my list.

Daki: What! Your list is stupid. Look me in the eyes, I’m Upper Moon Six!

Gotou: Very well, then. What can you tell me about your diet, Miss Upper Moon Six?

Daki: That’s more like it. It’s true that digestion takes a while, and takes some effort. Even though we Upper Moons may have eaten hundreds of people in our lifetimes, it’s not as if we gorge ourselves. The clever ones among us save prey for later to eat when we feel ready for it.

Gotou: Food storage? How do you keep them fresh?

Daki: You leave them still alive, numbskull. Nobody wants to eat something cold, that’s gross.

Gotou: I see, so that’s why demons prefer to go after new kills instead of saving what they’ve already managed to kill. That also might explain why the demons on Mt. Fujikasane wouldn’t had eaten many humans, if they found long dead ones in edible.

Daki: You want to know the real secret to eating humans? You can eat what you find tastes good, sure. But to get stronger, you eat strong people. Like your Corp members, the ones besides chumps like you? Using all that Breath makes their muscles really lean and potent, it’s like they come offering themselves as protein bars for us.

Gotou: You make them sound like a fad diet…

Daki: The real secret is eating Pillars. Besides Marechi, they’re the strongest meals out there. Guess how many I’ve eaten?

Gotou: I don’t have the data to make an educated guess.

Daki: Then get educated! Look back at Chapter 88! I’ve eaten seven Pillars, and my brother has eaten fifteen!

Gotou: Your brother? Who is he, then, Upper Moon Five?

Daki: What? Ew. Gross. Gross! No way, ew!

Gotou: Hmm… eating Pillars, huh? Well, I can think of one Pillar who was…

Douma: Me too!

Gotou: Speak of the devil.

Douma: Actually, we Upper Moons can! And he's not Satan, that's not how this works. But I guess Muzan-sama’s curse doesn’t effect us now. Ask me anything you want!

Gotou: That Chapter 143 reference was such a rude entrance. I understand that Pillars are particularly nutritious—

Douma: Oh, please don’t misunderstand! I don’t even eat all the Pillars I’ve encountered. There was the one Flower Pillar who got away from me, but some of the boy pillars I just leave around. What’s really the key to consistent nutritional intake is women! It’s really unhealthy for a demon not to get enough women in their diet, that’s why even if you’re only looking for Marechi or Pillars, your metabolism is going to get thrown out of whack with sudden big meals. You grow a stronger metabolism with consistency, I believe!

Gotou: If I could stop you there, I had an image from Chapter 142 I preferred to focus on for this case study. I see you keep a wide collection of skulls, from victims whom I assume you ate.

Douma: Yes, they all stayed together inside me for eternity, but the room looked lonely without décor.

Gotou: It seems other demons usually go for nutritionally dense organs like hearts or livers, or easy to digest parts of the body, perhaps just blood sometimes. Eating the entire victim, bones and all, doesn’t seem to be the norm.

Douma: Bones are organs too, you know! That’s where blood is made, at its freshest. They do take more practice in learning to digest, and I had to find a way around not having to chew them, but the bone marrow is very, very good for you, so I make sure to consume it frequently. It may take more time and it causes some of my followers to panic more while they wait, though, that’s a bit of a downside. Oh, and I guess bones can make good storage for some sneaky poison. Even fingernails and hair follicles, who’d have thought?

Gotou: I don’t think hair would have much nutritional value in the first place. In all my years, I can never recall seeing a victim with their hair eaten.

Douma: Tsk, tsk! Clearly you haven’t done much metabolism research in advance. I was really impressed by how well Shinobu-chan understood how my digestion would work. Eating hair can do amazing things! Isn’t that right, Genya-kun?

Genya: ?????????

Gotou: Genya-kun!?

Genya: What am I doing here?

Gotou: I don’t think you’re supposed to be here. Isn’t there, you know, another side? The other direction?

Genya: What are you doing here? Did you die?

Gotou: I’m here doing research on demon metabolism and how they get stronger by consuming flesh.

Douma: What can you tell us about what up with having your friend feed you hair you found on the floor in Chapters 170-171, Genya-kun?

Genya: I’m not a demon!! Why the hell are you asking me?

Douma: ‘Hell’! Haha, good one!

Gotou: How do you even know about that? You were dead almost a full volume before that. And Genya’s different, he’s not a case study in how demons consuming humans works!

Douma: Are you certain?

Gotou: I hear the term get thrown around a lot that he’s ‘half-demon’, but—

Genya: I’m not a demon!!!

Gotou: --how would that even work? That would imply that one of his parents had to be a demon, and that—

Genya: What did you say about my mother!?!

Gotou: What? Nothing—

Genya: You say that to my face! You just trying saying something about my mother to my face! My mother never actually ate any flesh, you got that? She doesn’t deserve any of this!

Gotou: Genya, calm down, what—

Douma: I see we’re learning nothing about hair at all. Maybe Kokushibou-dono would provide better commentary on that?

Genya: Mom? Mo-o-o-o-m? Are you down here somewhere?

Gotou: And there he goes… wait, did you say Kokushibou? Upper Moon One? Oh no—he—he didn’t want me bothering him, he did not agree to another interview—

Douma: He-e-e-e-e-y, Kokushibou-dono! How did that work with Genya-kun eating your hair? Hair can be nutritious, right?

Kokushibou: You would gain… nothing… from consuming human hair… it’s not… flesh… you wasted your energy digesting it…

Douma: Aww, cutting it off them would had been sad, though.

Kokushibou: Demon hair… like demon weapons… is made… from our unique cells. It’s not dead… like human locks. Because that boy ate my live cells… it affected him…

Gotou: Yes, because he had a very, very unique metabolism, analyzed separately in this post. To be perfectly clear, Genya is completely human with cells that could temporarily transform, and he never consumed human flesh.

Kokushibou: He… vexes me…

Gotou: Um… while I’ve got you here, you’re one of the longest lived demons, clocking in at over three, maybe four centuries. Do you have any estimate of how many humans you’ve consumed?

Kokushibou: ……I see in… Chapter 100… that you are 23 years old?

Gotou: That is correct.

Kokushibou: Do you bother… remembering how many meals… you’ve had in a mere 23 years?

Gotou: I’m very sorry to have bothered you.

Douma: Kokushibou-dono’s ancient compared to the rest of us! But if I tried, I could probably recall. Let’s see. One, two, three, four…

Gotou: Is that? Your finger in your brain? Oh—ohhh—that is disgusting---I really don’t need to know numbers that badly, please stop. Is there maybe just some average you can give me for the Upper Moons instead? Like how many you’d eat in a month?

Douma: I wish I could, but a certain someone was an annoying outlier and didn’t like to eat so many humans. He made me worry all the time about his health.

Gotou: Really? Who might that be?

Douma: Hello-o-o-o-o-? Akaza-dono? Yoohoo! He spends all his time with his wife now and never answers when I call, it makes me so sad. Akaza-dono did eat humans, plenty of strong ones, but any time he wasn’t under orders from Muzan he liked to spend his time training instead of eating. Fanbook #1 says he did that way more than eating!

Gotou: Training? What sort of training?

Douma: Similar things to what your Corp members did, I imagine. Doing squats, throwing punches, things like that.

Gotou: Then demon muscles had similar function to human muscles, and could be strengthened through hard work? That’s surprising.

Douma: I know, right? I’ll let you in on a secret, I don’t think it was the physically repetition that did anything. I think it was his willpower getting honed and shaping his muscles.

Douma: I had to focus when I acquired new skills too, like breaking down poisons. A lot of sad, lowly demons, like that Hand Demon fellow? They focus as hard as they can in their desperation, or focus on some strong emotion or attachment or whatever, and they grow and develop because of it. Sometimes all their weak bodies can manage is an ugly mutation, but that’s proof enough of how much focus they had.

Gotou: That sheds a lot of light on Nezuko, actually.

Douma: Shed “light” on Nezuko-chan, hahaha! Sunlight! You humans are all so witty!

Gotou: Speaking of willpower, I’ve got one more interview I need to get to down here. Of all the demons I have records of, only Nezuko went her whole time as a demon without consuming any human flesh, although she did go through moments of berserk cravings for it. It’s possible that other demons were killed before they could consume anything, but typically they will consume flesh as soon as possible, which is why its common for their family and close relations to be among the first ones killed. Tomioka-san even mentioned in Chapter 1 that these close relations are especially nutritious.

Gotou: A demon about as old as Kokushibou, if not older, is a special case of her own. She was one of the only demons we know of to have escaped Kibutsuji’s curse and acted in dependently of him, including having created a demon of her own after two hundred years of trying. Most notably to our purposes, she trained herself to subsist on small amounts of blood, after having survived on corpses and wild animals for a time, according to the extensive Taisho Secrets at the end of Volume 21.

Tamayo: I explained this in more detail to Tanjirou-san in Chapter 15, but I went on to purchase blood from poor people, and extracted it in ways that wouldn’t be harmful to them. The one demon I created, Yushirou, could subsist on even less. I gained enough self-control that I could treat injured humans without feeling tempted into a berserk state.

Gotou: I was just talking to Douma about willpower making demons capable of accomplishing new physical developments. Was that how you were able to gain this state? I heard you even enjoy a cup of tea now and then.

Tamayo: Yes, I’ve taken a liking to it. I’d offer you some if not for this, you know, being hell. It’s nothing like the hell I went through when first resisting consuming humans, though. My demon body refused to take anything but fresh human flesh at first, but in the hardest moments, I always remembered a kind demon hunter who said he believed in me and my desire to defeat Kibutsuji Muzan. I believe Nezuko may have summoned her strength to resist the call of her demon cells in a similar way; she knew she had her brother there to rely on. Once she mastered something as remarkable as resisting the need for human flesh, it gave her the freedom to prioritize other developments.

Gotou: You spent centuries researching demon cells, especially how demons may break down and metabolize poisons.

Tamayo: I had not studied the metabolism of poisons until working with Shinobu-san. The medicine we concocted for Kibutsuji was only possible thanks to her work, and I couldn’t had worked with many of those wisteria-based substances on my own. I feel I was only there to fill in the gaps of her brilliant understanding.

Gotou: You’re very humble. I would pass along my thanks and compliments to Shinobu-sama too, but I’m pretty sure she’s not down here. On that note, did Genya-kun go back home?

Tamayo: He did after a nice reunion with his mother just now, it was very sweet. Shizu-san and I get along well, after all, we both carry similar guilt.

Gotou: Wait, was his mother a demon? That means Wind-sama’s mother was too? Wait?? What??

Tamayo: The worst hell I went through, or that any demon has gone through, is to realize what you’ve eaten after the hunger-driven madness clears. Being similar to your own cells, they’re easy on a volatile new anatomy to break down and digest. That’s why many demons may have driven themselves to forget everything all over again, or to twist their personalities to justify the horror, saying that because they ate the hearts of their loved ones and because demon flesh can live forever, then they never truly killed them. The truth always remained untwisted for me, and to this day, it torments me more than anything in this underworld can try.

Gotou: …

Tamayo: You should wake up now, Gotou. You’ve been through a lot; the nightmares must be taxing on your health. Please remember to eat well.

#kny fandom theories and meta #too many characters to tag #I wrote this draft early last week and only this morning had time to edit it but it took foreeeevvvverrr on my slow computer #now off to work #eat well everybody #I'm off to work #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer

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ursaminortarot · 3 years

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I’m really fixated on romance right now for some reason, so here we are with a soulmate reading. I’m of the belief that we don’t just have romantic soulmates but platonic and familial ones as well. However, for this reading, I am choosing to focus solely on romance.

I’m experimenting with a new format. I linked each of the readings to a google doc, this is mostly because they ended up being way longer than I’d anticipated (story of my life). I also thought that it might be more organized to do it this way. I’d appreciate feedback on whether or not I should keep doing it.

Piles to choose from:

Pile 1 - Cobra

Pile 2 - Fish

Pile 3 - Cheetah

Pile 4 - Zebra

Pile 5 - Hawk

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[Decks Used: Modern Witch Tarot, Wild Unknown Tarot, Wild Unknown Animal Spirit oracle, Tarot Cats, standard playing cards, and a homemade oracle deck]

This took me 10-11 hours to do, spread out across 3 days. So, if you can support my shop or donate I’d be grateful. Also, please excuse any grammar/spelling mistakes and small incoherencies, by the time I got around to editing the readings I was kind of over it.

My Shop: https://www.etsy.com/shop/UrsaMinorTarot

CashApp: @UrsaMinorTarot

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Pile 1: Cobra

Who They Are:

Queen of Wands, 9 of Wands, 8 of Pentacles, King of Clubs

10 of Cups, 7 of Cups r, Justice r, 5 of Hearts

7 of Cups r, 9 of Pentacles r, 6 of Wands, 9 of Diamonds

Death r, 7 of Wands r, 8 of Wands r, Ace of Spades

The High Priestess, The Fool, The Hanged Man r, Ace of Hearts

Mother of Cups r

Winter+New Love

I’m getting some self-made energy here, they are likely a very hard worker who puts in a lot of time and energy. Their success, while appreciated, makes them feel very alone. There’s a lot of wands energy here, so they are generous with their money and it’s possible that other people take advantage of that. The Mother of Cups reversed reinforces this idea as she brings the message: “you give too much of yourself to others”.

The High Priestess, Fool, and Hanged Man being pulled together makes me think they function in two very different ways. Either, they overthink literally everything to the point of never making a decision, or they just do things very impulsively without a second thought.

They want a big, happy family, whatever that means to them. It could involve having children or just having a lot of pets. However, due to past relationships, they no longer feel as though they could trust anyone enough to live out that dream.

They feel disillusioned with love, which gives them a lot of conflicting emotions. Because, again, there’s a lot of wands energy, so they’re a very passionate person. Their current belief that love isn’t real is a direct contradiction to who they are at their core. Winter and new love could be taken literally, like you’ll meet and fall in love with them in the winter. Or, if you wanted to look deeper at it, it could mean that you help them get out of this place of being unable to consider love.

How You Can Recognize Them:

8 of Cups r, Son of Wands, 7 of Wands r, King of Diamonds

5 of Pentacles, Father of Cups, 3 of Swords, Jack of Hearts

The Devil r, The Fool, The Devil, 2 of Spades

10 of Pentacles, The High Priestess r, Queen of Hearts

The Hermit, 7 of Pentacles r, 10 of Cups r, 7 of Diamonds

Hanged man, 4 of Cups r, 10 of Diamonds r

“You’re having trouble getting in touch with your emotions”

“You’re not seeing clearly”

This person has an unmistakable light about them. Being with them is like sitting outside on a nice day soaking up the sun. However, they are still holding on to the past, and this is to their detriment. When you meet them, if you haven’t already, they will be extremely hung up on their ex. They are going to be obsessing over what went wrong and whether or not they can fix it. I can’t tell if they want to fix it to get back together with their ex, because they think it will give them closure, or because they think it will help them avoid making the same mistakes in their next relationship. But, they also don’t actually want to fix anything because that would mean confronting their emotions and they would really rather not. They will likely seem to be existing outside of reality, they are going to be so distracted by this internal conflict that they aren’t going to notice the world around them.

In all honesty, they will be very difficult for you to recognize. You’ll probably notice them because of their light, but you won’t (and shouldn’t) consider them a potential partner - at least not until they’ve dealt with their issues and moved on. I want to stress that while they are so focused on their past relationship(s), that’s not all they have going on. They are a 3 dimensional human being like the rest of us, but this is just the information I was able to get.

I also want to mention that their family is very important to them, they’re the type of person to call or text each member of their immediate family every day. I also get the impression that you two will be friends for a while before getting into a relationship.

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Pile 2: Fish

Who They Are:

Queen of Swords, 9 of Wands, 9 of Cups r, The Tower r, Jack of Spades

King of Swords, Daughter of Wands, 3 of Pentacles, 8 of Diamonds

Judgment r, 2 of Cups r, Daughter of Swords r, The Chariot r, 3 of Spades

5 of Pentacles, Temperance, 7 of Wands, Jack of Hearts

The Emperor, 8 of Pentacles, The Magician r, Ace of Wands, 4 of Spades

“I’m sorry”

Best friends

Between the Emperor and having all of the court cards of the Swords suit, this person has a very powerful presence. They’re almost the kind of person that makes people stop and stare, I say almost because they’re intimidating and people don’t want to be caught staring. Not intimidating in a scary way, they just - and I can’t stress this enough - exude power. They are also very ambitious and highly intelligent. So when they put their mind to something, they will execute it perfectly. Or, at least, they want people to think it was done perfectly. They have a very “everything’s under control” look to them, but they’re barely hanging on by a thread. I feel like one bad day would send them into an existential spiral, because they don’t know who they are if they’re not perfect.

Nothing’s ever come easily to them and they’ve had to fight their whole life to get the things that they have now. They’ve never had the option of giving up. If they gave up, they were worthless, they were nothing - that’s how they’ve always seen it. I imagine there’s a lot of parental pressure at play here. It’s turned them into a workaholic, there’s no work-life balance to be found. I’m getting the impression that the “I’m sorry” card has to do with this aspect of their life.

The “best friends” card speaks for itself. With the Jack of Hearts and Daughter of Wands, there’s a playful energy to them. But these are the only cards pointing this out, which tells me that they restrain this part of themself. I think that you being their friend, as well as their partner, will show them that they don’t need to be so serious all the time. This is something buried so deep it’ll need some time and energy to be coaxed out of them.

This is pretty obvious, but this person’s biggest fear is failure.

How You Can Recognize Them:

Knight of Wands r, 4 of Wands r, 8 of Cups, 9 of Swords

King of Pentacles, The Moon r, 7 of Swords r, Queen of Spades

5 of Pentacles, Mother of Swords, Queen of Wands, 4 of Hearts

Queen of Cups, Daughter of Swords r, Knight of Wands

7 of Cups r, Son of Swords, 4 of Pentacle, 5 of Diamonds

The World r, 9 of Wands r, 8 of Hearts r

You feel as if you aren’t getting the recognition you deserve

Seperation

We’re definitely seeing their more sensitive, playful aspects. However, these are still vastly overpowered by their Swords energy as, once again, all the court cards are out - the Queen’s out twice. Seriously, this person has such powerful energy that it’s the first thing you notice.

I feel like you’ll meet either at work or at school, somewhere where you’re working on a group project together. The people you’re working with aren’t going to take your contributions seriously. But, once they realize you’re right, they’ll claim they were their ideas all along. The Swords family is very fair-minded, so I think this person’s going to have a problem with that.

They have this very detached, uninterested persona and once you’ve spent time around your soulmate, you’re going to pick up on the fact that they are deeper than they want people to think they are. When they’re more comfortable with you, which will take some time, you might catch glimpses of them being competitive/hot-headed or they’ll start making jokes around you. If you’re patient enough, they’ll eventually be vulnerable with you.

They have a fear of the unknown and love is foreign to them, so this is definitely a slow-burn.

In both of these readings I got a wave of pretty interesting energy. It wasn’t anxiety or dizziness, but felt similar to both. I felt like I lost my balance, that’s probably how you'll make this person feel. They have a lot of plans for life and you’re not one of them, so they’ll be thrown for a loop.

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Pile 3: Cheetah:

Who They Are:

Page of Swords r, Son of Cups, The Hierophant, 9 of Clubs

Page of Wands, Mother of Wands r, Page of Cups r, 4 of Hearts

9 of Cups, The Tower, 2 of Swords, 2 of Cups, Ace of Clubs

Queen of Wands r, The Chariot r, Queen of Pentacles, 4 of Spades

Knight of Pentacles, Ace of Wands, Emperor r, 6 of Clubs

8 of Cups, King of Wands

You can’t help everyone

Over-investment in work

Aries

The first thing that I’m seeing is that this person will probably have some self-esteem issues. It seems to be tied to their abilities more so than appearance.

They have a lot of ideas for projects that they want to work on, but they never seem to start anything, let alone finish. I think this is because they try to be everything to everyone and don’t prioritize themself. They find contentment in the idea that everybody likes them, but this can make them a people pleaser. This can lead to them taking on long hours at work to make their boss happy. It’s also unrealistic because there’s not a person on Earth that’s universally liked. I think this is something they’ll come to realize in their own time.

They may come across as indecisive at times, they aren’t. They always know exactly what they want, but can have a hard time asserting themself.

There’s a fire that burns bright here, this person has a lot of drive and ambition. This is where that aries energy comes in, they don��t have to have aries placements so please don’t get fixated on that. But, like I said before, they hold themself back by prioritizing other people and neglecting their own needs. They have the potential to be really successful, however they need to start putting themself first.

This seems like a very sensitive individual, just the thought of doing something under-handed stresses them out. Which is a good thing for other people, because your soulmate’s very charming and could probably talk themself out of anything.

For some reason I get the impression that they have a bit of a sweet tooth.

How You Can Recognize Them:

2 of Swords r, The Empress, Queen of Cups, 3 of Hearts

9 of Pentacles r, Judgment r, The Moon, 10 of Spades

The Fool, Mother of Wands r, Hierophant r, Jack of Diamonds

The Chariot r, The Hermit, 4 of Wands, Joker B&W r

3 of Pentacles, 4 of Wands r, Knight of Wands, 4 of Spades

King of Cups r, The Magician r

You’re having trouble getting in touch with your emotions

September

Think before you speak

Let’s start with the reinforcements of their self-esteem issues, as well as their people pleasing tendencies. It’s exhausting for them, emotionally and physically. They are well and truly holding themself back, and I think that by the time you meet them they’ll be starting to examine these aspects of themself. This will be something they struggle with for a while and there may be a period of time where they withdraw to think things through.

The joker in black and white in standard decks is my fool reversed card, but it’s reversed so its the fool reversed reversed. The fool upright, I feel like there could have been a simpler way for my cards to get that message to me. But I also feel like it represents the way your person talks to themself, they make everything just a little bit more complicated than it needs to be. They think in circles, eventually getting to the point but it may take them a while. This may be a contributing factor to their perceived indecisiveness.

They want to make a home with you. I get the impression that when talking about it with you, they’ll appear to be cool and collected. Like it’s not a big deal to them. But then they’ll turn around and shout it from the rooftops. It won’t be possible for people to not know you’re together, they’ll just be so loud about it.

Outside of the need to make everybody like them, they’re a pretty care-free individual. It will be important to them that you have fun together. I think this playfulness is their most defining feature and probably the first thing people notice about them.

In the first two piles, it looked like they’d be friends for a while before getting into a relationship with their person. That’s not the case here, like I said before, when this person knows, they know. They’re not going to waste time with you.

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Pile 4: Zebra

Who They Are:

The Fool, The Hanged Man, Queen of Swords, Ace of Clubs

6 of Swords r, 2 of Wands, The Hanged Man, Ace of Hearts

Ace of Cups, Mother of Pentacles r, 4 of Wands, Jack of Spades,

3 of Swords r, The Magician, 10 of Pentacles, Queen of Cups r, Jack of Diamonds

3 of Cups, The High Priestess, Strength, The Fool r, King of Spades

Soulmate

Hostile

May

The first thing I’m picking up on is that your soulmate is someone who is very carefree. They also have a lot of romantic energy to them, so they are definitely a hopeless romantic.

The amount of Major Arcana here tells me that this person is likely very spiritually gifted, they might not be consciously aware of this.

This person is kind of a go-getter. Once they decide they want something, nothing’s getting in their way.

There are some conflicting energies here because as happy and carefree as they are, there’s an equal amount of pain and hardship. This is someone who’s faced a lot of hostility, so at first will be fairly guarded. They love the idea of being in love, but have difficulties opening themself up to the reality of love. It’s not all bad, they are making an active effort to heal and not let past heartbreak hold them back.

With the Magician and High Priestess facing each other, this is someone who is likely very in touch with their spirituality. Not only are they able to trust their intuition, but they also have everything that they need to follow it. Once they have a gut feeling about something, whatever it is, they will trust it more than they’ll trust you, and be right 90% of the time.

They are very compassionate and probably are used to giving more than they take, which gets them taken advantage of. Part of their growth is going to be finding a balance in this aspect of their life.

This is someone who values family and most likely wants some kind of family unit, whether that be having children or pets.

The month of May might be important, it could be when you meet or one of you could be a Taurus or a Gemini.

How You Can Recognize Them:

Ace of Cups, 3 of Pentacles r, 8 of Wands, 2 of Swords

Page of Cups, Justice r, 5 of Cups, 7 of Clubs

King of Pentacles, 10 of Cups, Strength r, 2 of Diamonds

2 of Pentacles r, 9 of Cups r, Queen of Wands, King of Diamonds

Death, The Hierophant, Page of Wands, 9 of Spades

Sensitive

Peaceful

There’s still time to change your mind.

One of their prominent characteristics is their sensitivity. This doesn’t mean that they’re crybabies, they are just very mindful of everybody's feelings. This paired with what we learned about the painful parts of their past probably makes them a little insecure. This insecurity is only a problem when it comes to relationships. They may come across as very confident and flirty, but as soon as it moves past that they start clamming up and getting nervous. It could be bad enough that they have a hard time believing that you actually want to be with them.

They invest a lot of time into their projects, whether work related or personal. It’s likely that they struggle with finding a work-life balance. This is someone who needs to feel productive at every moment of the day. They keep themself busy so that they don’t need to be alone with their thoughts. This isn’t someone that knows peace. It is something they’d like to experience, but they don’t know how to. They have too many thoughts and can’t quiet their mind, their inner-demons get the best of them at times. This isn’t something they express outwardly though, everyone around them probably sees them as someone who, while busy, is fairly laid back. They need a lot of guidance here so if you’re someone who meditates, this could be something you help them with.

It’ll be easiest for you to recognize them based on their sensitivity and active lifestyle. They will be extremely helpful to their friends and family, and would drop everything to be there if needed. They are also, surprisingly down-to-earth.

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Pile 5: Hawk

Who They Are:

5 of Cups, Judgment, Queen of Wands, Queen of Spades

Knight of Wands r, 10 of Wands r, 5 of Pentacles r, 3 of Diamonds

7 of Cups r, The Fool r, 10 of Pentacles, King of Spades

2 of Swords r, 9 of Cups, 3 of Cups r, 3 of Spades

The High Priestess r, 3 of Pentacles, Magician r, 9 of Diamonds

“You’re my everything.”

You need to hold yourself to more reasonable standards.

This is someone with a lot of pain, they are overwhelmed and feel defeated. I’m getting the impression that it has to do primarily with work/co-workers. It could be that they put a lot of themself into their work and seem to always get passed up for promotions, or they could have even been recently laid off. They’re very ambitious and intelligent, so if they did get laid off, it would be a big hit to their ego. Alternatively, they could have almost reached a long-standing dream, only for it to fall apart at the last second.

Your soulmate has a lot of fiery passion that they don’t always know what to do with, so they turn everything into a competition. The thing is, they’re only competing with themself. They’re always trying to be better than they were yesterday, even when it’s unrealistic.

As passionate as they are, they can be very patient when it comes to getting what they want. They know that not everything can be rushed, even if that’s frustrating to them. They try to avoid making reckless mistakes, but sometimes this can lead to them not making decisions in a timely manner.

They value family and friends greatly, this could be the most important part of their life to them. They’ll test you to see if you can gain the approval of their loved ones. If you don’t, they may begin to have second thoughts. This is a soulmate though, so you’ll likely be very compatible and win everyone over with relative ease.

How You Can Recognize Them:

5 of Pentacles, The Moon, 4 of Swords, 5 of Clubs

King of Pentacles, Judgment, 5 of Swords r, King of Wands r, 7 of Diamonds

2 of Swords r, Daughter of Pentacles, 5 of Pentacles r, 3 of Clubs

Temperance r, Son of Wands r, High Priestess r, 7 of Swords r, Jack of Clubs

6 of Swords r, The Tower r, Page of Pentacles r, 5 of Hearts

You are not seeing clearly

Hesitant

When You meet this person, they will be coming out of a very rough period of their life. They are going to be at the start of their healing journey and they won’t have a lot of time or energy for romance. They’re likely very hard on themself, they don’t want to be seen as weak so they don’t express negative emotions. This is something they have to confront in order to heal.

They are going to be in a complicated headspace, there’s going to be difficulty separating the past from the present, and there’s not a lot of balance between their spiritual and physical lives. They either reject the spiritual to embrace the material world, or neglect their physical well-being and focus solely on their spiritual self.

You know how some people use their trauma as an excuse to inflict pain on others? This person’s the opposite of that, everything they’ve gone through has made them a patient, compassionate person. This will probably be one of the first things you notice about them, how kind they are. They are also very dependable, they’ve experienced going through hard times alone and don’t want anyone else to feel like they have to.

Overall, they come across as a very good human being, but there’s an underlying tiredness to them. They might be dealing with a little bit of brain fog, so at times they’re slow to process the world around them.

#tarot #tarot reader #tarot reading #tarot pick a card #tarot decks #tarot cards #tarotblr #oracle decks #oracle cards

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ronsenburg · 4 years

Note

Hi! I wanted to ask you something about Klapollo. What topic/argument do you think could possibly cause them to break up or take a break from the relationship? I live for the drama and was thinking about maybe writing a fic but like I dont want to make either of them assholes, like Apollo bringing Kristoph up to hurt Klavier, for example. I don't think he would do that but I struggle to come up with something else.

Oh boy, I hope you’re not upset about this, but I wrote you an essay. I’m sorry.

Overall, I really like the klapollo relationship timeline because, compared to, say, narumi/su they have a much more normal, organic story. They meet, flirt, share a mutual trauma, get together! Totally normal! But I also think that they would have a much harder time than narumi/su finding the balance you need in a serious relationship and I can see them calling it quits for perfectly practical reasons that aren’t really anything to do with one being a jerk, you know? Here are my top things that I think they would have to navigate and maybe struggle with before a real happily ever after:

1. Money. You’ve probably seen my post where I talk about Apollo feeling uncomfortable with displays of affluence. I don’t think that this is an easy one to get past. AA6 Spoilers, but Dhurke and Datz literally raised them in hiding on the run in the mountainous jungles of Khura’in. They sent Apollo to the states as a nine year old. We don’t know what he did when he got here, but my money’s always been on the foster system. That doesn’t typically breed a sense of stability, financial or otherwise.

From my experience (so take it with a grain of salt), children who grow up with very little tend to behave in one of two ways when they reach financial stability and/or achieve wealth: first option, they’re really bad with it. They spend it nearly as fast as they make it on things they didn’t get to have or experience when they were growing up. Second option, they never spend it. They know what it’s like to be without, so they save as much of it as they can so they have the security of knowing, if something happens, they won’t have to go back to the way it was before. I will always put Apollo in the latter category. He works hard for what he has and what he gets and, I think, things that signify extravagance make him uncomfortable. On the other hand, I think that the Gavin’s have always had some sort of wealth. Klavier and Kristoph have very different aesthetics to their spaces that we get to experience (Klavier’s office and Kristoph’s cell) but they’re both pretty lavish. Now, we can assume they each made their money individually in their respective careers but, honestly, Kristoph’s cell is so gaudy. To me, it screams “this is what I’m used to and I refuse to accept any less” which is an attitude that I feel comes more from a lifetime of that treatment.

So if we accept everything that I’ve said above as true, trying to put a person who saves every penny they get and feels bad treating themselves with a person who spends money freely because it’s been a constant throughout their life? It can go poorly. Casually dating, maybe it’s not such an issue once Apollo says “please no more presents and can we just get takeout for once?” but if you’re talking about something more serious, where you have to live in the same space and pay joint bills and be confronted with the other person’s spending habits constantly, it’s a whole other thing. Please take it from me as a person in a long term relationship who loves their partner tremendously—everyone fights about money. Everyone. It would be very difficult for Apollo to feel comfortable, even if he knew that finances were in good shape and there was savings, etc. Things happen, people leave. Nothing gold can stay. Changing that line of thinking takes work. It would also be easier said than done for Klavier to just do an about face on his own habits for Apollo’s comfort. Being a celebrity makes money, but it costs money, too. There is a certain amount of lushness that people expect. That can’t just go away. These are things that become bigger problems overtime, no matter how much you love each other.

Anyway, I would be really surprised if—even if you’re writing them as really happily married—Apollo doesn’t have a ‘emergency fund’ that even Klavier doesn’t know about. It’s a ‘just in case’. Just in case Klavier leaves him. Just in case he needs to get away fast. Just in case the world ends. It’s not a logical thing, something that he sat down and rationalized doing, it’s just there because it feels better to have it than to not. But that can be kind of hurtful if the other person finds out about it, so. There you go, a whole minefield of money related drama.

2. Apollo’s Abandonment Issues. He’s got them! What do you call and orphan twice over who also lost his very best friend? I don’t know, but if capcom doesn’t stop picking on my boy I’m going to kick them in the teeth. I will still never get over AA6 for telling us that Dhurke took Apollo in when he was orphaned as a baby, then abandoned him in the USA, then came back for him and got his hopes up, and then was actually dead the whole time! Hahahaha! What a trip!

Anyway, you don’t come back from that super easy. People who suffer this kind of trauma usually have a really hard time trusting others, which is understandable. They also can have unrealistic needs from their partners, become codependent, or even just self-sabotage their relationships, pulling away first to try and avoid the pain because they think the other person will leave them. I think that last one is most likely for Apollo, especially given the disparity in circumstances I mentioned above. If Apollo can’t trust that Klavier actually loves him, can’t trust that he won’t leave him like EVERYONE ELSE HAS, then they can’t have a healthy relationship. Drama.

3. Klavier’s Emotional Trauma. Kristoph is a pretty big jerk to Klavier in the last case of AA4. He criticizes and undermines Klavier, threatens and admits to manipulating him. In the anthology, Klavier shares an “lol so funny!” story about Kristoph accidentally breaking a window while he and Klavier are playing ball. In it, he convinces Klavier that it was his fault and that he should take the blame and apologize for breaking the window! And Klavier does! That’s gaslighting, baby, and since the Anthology is supposed to be canon, we can take that to mean it’s been happening since Klavier was a kid. Think about that. An entire life of gaslighting and manipulative behavior! You don’t come back from that easily, either.

People who experience emotional abuse can, among other things, suffer from depression and low-self esteem. They need affirmation from their partners and can have a hard time with letting people in or being honest (though not from a malicious mindset—more a “I’m going to say what I think you want to hear because if you’re happy, bad things won’t happen!”). They can also always be waiting for the other shoe to drop, so to speak. Sure things are good, but when will that end and the bad time start? It’s a self fulfilling prophecy: if all you can do is worry about things going wrong, then you aren’t actually enjoying when things are going right and you will cause the issues you’re so worried about. Drama.

4. Fame. Klavier has been in the spotlight since he was a literal child. If the Gavinners were already hits when Klavier was 17, they likely formed and starred their rise some time before then. A year, maybe two? Klavier spent his formative years in the spotlight. He quite literally doesn’t know any other way. Apollo, on the other hand, has never experienced the kind of scrutiny he’d be subject to when dating someone like Klavier. It can be really stressful and hurtful and just overall not a good time. And I’m not saying that Klavier wouldn’t be sympathetic, but I don’t think he would really understand how difficult it could be to have been thrust into that position out of nowhere, because he’s had years of dealing with it and was in a completely different place in life when it began for him. It’s not unreasonable to think that Apollo might not be able to take it. You can love someone and want to be with them but if you can’t adapt to their lifestyle, it’s not going to work. They could walk away rather than risk what might happen to Apollo if they kept it up. Drama.

5. Careers. They both have very demanding jobs. While sharing a similar profession can mean there’s a mutual understanding, it can also cause issues if you... never get to see each other? Schedules can be out of alignment (which could easily happen; their cases can’t always line up and they seem to require a lot of time investment outside of just normal hours). If Klavier goes back into music, that’s an additional time constraint. Why be in a relationship when you can only see the other person for moments here and there? What about the stress that comes with those jobs? That can cause drama.

6. Klavier looks like Kristoph. They are very different people, yes, but similar enough in some ways that it could cause tension. Maybe Klavier is tired and stressed and snaps at Apollo, and suddenly, all Apollo can see is Kristoph and all he can feel is the uncomfortable churning in his stomach that goes along with the memories of him. Someone he trusted, someone who let him down. That’s a difficult subject to broach, and it can fester like an infected wound if left intended.

But Apollo sounds like Kristoph sometimes. We saw it in AA5, which is, of course, an extreme circumstance. But it can come out from time to time in other ways. A phrase that slips out, the way he intones certain words, the way he signs off in his emails—little things that are harmless, but can still act as triggers.

Sometimes you need to get away from things that can remind you of your past in order to work on getting over them. If you are in love with someone who shares a similar trauma, who brings those issues from the past to light frequently just by being themselves, it might not be a healthy situation. I don’t think they would need to throw it in each other’s faces for it to become an issue. Drama.

There are more, but I probably took this more seriously than you intended. Whoops! Anyway, I hope that helps??? Maybe???? I hope you get them back together in the end because they deserve to be happy though!!!!!!!

#LONG POST #shut up krissy #if you want me to cut this please let me know #klapollo

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stubbychaos · 4 years

Text

To Be Alone With You

Chapter 4 of Saviin’ika

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Pairing: Paz Vizla x Nurse!Reader

Summary: While your Mandalorian continues to work hard to gain your trust as well as your heart, he decides to take you somewhere else just as beautiful as the cave. In return for his act of kindness, you think it’s your turn to give him a present of his own.

Rating: T for the usual stuff! Nothing smutty, just some unresolved sexual tension.

Word Count: 9,000 (I’m so sorry omg, this is literally 99% fluff and then one line at the end that indicates an actual plot coming on, lord help me, I have a problem.)

Warnings: Again, there really aren’t any in this chapter. There are little hints of abuse and growing up in a toxic environment, but nothing too descriptive. Also there’s a tiny bit of sexual tension every now and then (if you squint), but mostly fluff and hurt/comfort.

A/N: It only took until the end of the fourth chapter to finally get to the plot jfc lol. Thank you all for reading and the continuous support and kind words! I hope you enjoy this chapter <3

“What’s going through that pretty head of yours? You’re always thinking and never talking, little nurse.”

You jump a little at the sound of your blue Mandalorian’s deep baritone, blinking owlishly when you realize that your companion has been talking for quite some time now, though you’d been too consumed by your frantic thoughts to register what he was saying. You find it happening more often lately, especially when you’re sitting so close to the heavy-infantry warrior; your thoughts move at a pace that you simply cannot handle and you loathe that you’re suddenly overthinking everything in regards to the strange, intimate relationship you’ve formed with him.

Per usual, he seems as calm and collected as ever, making you even more flustered when his bold nature shines through and overpowers his bashful tone. The little touches and flirty comments seem to come so naturally to him, while you struggle to return the playful sentiments, usually answering him in the form of a shy smile or flushed cheeks that you’re certain he must see through his black visor. It seems to only spur him on more and you think he must realize what he does to you--how he makes you feel.

“I’m just thinking about...” You cringe a little, because what are you going to say to him?

Sorry, I’m just thinking about you and how much I long for your touch? That I would let you play with my hair every night for the rest of my days if you wished for it? Sorry that I’ve never felt more at home than when you hold me?

It all sounds so foolish and ridiculous and you know you can’t say any of it out loud.

“I-It’s nothing,” You answer lamely, nervously tightening the cape he had let you borrow around your torso; the material was heavier than you’d expected and the comforting weight of it had surprised you when he draped it around your shoulders after a particularly cold gust of wind had left you shivering earlier. Even though the thick material had easily warmed you up from the inside out--along with the sweet gesture--the Mandalorian hadn’t hesitated to wrap a massive arm around your shoulders and pull you closer into his side.

“I’m just daydreaming, I suppose.”

Your blue Mandalorian sighs a little, easily catching your bluff and not seeming all too thrilled that you’re struggling with your emotions, “Saviin’ika...”

You reluctantly look up at your companion, though you focus on the chin of his helmet, rather than where you think his eyes are, “I’m just thinking about the last few days; I’m not... I’m not used to this. I’m not used to people actually...” You quickly look away from him when you feel your eyes burn and your chest heave a little, “I’m just surprised you keep coming back for me--thought you would have left by now.”

You let out a frustrated sigh, realizing how pathetic the words sound as you speak them in a breathy, shaky whisper and a trembling bottom lip.

A hooked index finger tenderly taps just underneath your chin to bring your gaze further up his visor and the softness in his usually gruff voice definitely doesn’t fall on deaf ears, “Your companionship isn’t tiresome or a burden to me. I... I enjoy spending time with you more than you could imagine. I hope one day you can truly believe that.”

You smile feebly and force a tiny, meek nod, reminding yourself that nobody has stuck around this long and that your Mandalorian must not be jesting or patronizing you in any way shape or form.

Another week has passed since he first brought you to the cave and much to your utter astonishment and delight, the Mandalorian had made it a mission to visit you every day since, whether it be to simply walk you to your abode or to take you to the cave so you can relax your feet in the hot springs. After the second time when he takes you to the cave and asks if he can take out your braids again, you think he must genuinely look forward to your company, rather simply resigning to tolerate it.

The thought of him enjoying something so simple as taking out your braids leaves you breathless and you can’t help but to despise him because nobody should have this kind of impact on your heart by simply stroking your hair.

It still doesn’t completely rid the self-deprecating thoughts from clawing at the back of your mind, tearing open deep wounds that leave you feeling raw and vulnerable. You feel far too exposed to the fearless warrior and oftentimes find yourself closing in on yourself to prevent him from getting inside your mind.

Today, however, your thoughts are relatively calm and you chalk it up to a surprisingly short and uneventful shift at the infirmary, a rare occurrence that leaves you feeling unusually content and energized. Deciding to make the most of the extra energy, you had made your way to the marketplace to get more ration bars and look at the prices on fresh fruit, though you had been slightly disappointed to find the usual vendor had been sold out of their stock.

Feeling only slightly dejected, you had made your way back to the infirmary where you thought the Mandalorian might be waiting for you in his usual spot and you hadn’t even realized your disappointment from earlier had immediately disappeared upon spotting the familiar glimmer of moonlight beaming down on a dark blue helmet.

You don’t even realize he has that effect on you.

He had been waiting for you and you wondered if there were nights where he arrived at the infirmary hours before the end of your shift and he simply doesn’t mind the long wait.

Though he had been a little confused and surprised that you had gotten out of work earlier than usual, you think it must have put him in a better mood as well, noting that your smile actually met your eyes for once. After greeting you with a gentle headbutt of his Beskar-clad forehead against your bare one--something you assumed was a typical Mandalorian greeting they did with everyone--your companion had seemed content to guide you away from the village and far away from your broken home.

Noting that the night sky was incredibly clear and the full moon seemed brighter and larger than usual, he had chosen to take you to a region of the barren lands where flora grew and ponds had somehow naturally formed over time. It’s located in a rocky crater on a steep cliff side, but tame waterfalls of all shapes and sizes surround the two of you and you don’t think you’ve ever seen so much water in all of your years of living on the bleak planet.

You wonder how the Mandalorian seems to know of all these beautiful spots on a planet like Nevarro, though you’re certain previous years experience of traveling so much and providing for his tribe would give him a pretty decent mental map of the area surrounding his home.

Instead of asking, you had simply resigned to letting the Mandalorian guide you to a cozy spot, gathering a decent-sized log that you two could sit up against and you had watched with curious eyes as he easily set a small fire within the span of a few seconds.

You’re utterly content to curl against his side and watch the stars and moon that make for a lovely setting, along with the sound of the Mandalorian’s sweet baritone that speaks of his time spent traveling through the cosmos and different planets he’s visited in the past. You stare up at him with awe shimmering fiercely in your eyes when he describes the white ball of ice that’s Hoth, or how unbearably hot and deadly the Tatooine deserts had taken a toll on even him.

Then he speaks of mountain-sized trees and flowers even more massive than him and...

Maker, you hang onto every single word he uses to describe the planet of Felucia and how even he had been surprised by how vibrant and flourishing every living organism had been.

"Saviin'ika."

You don’t know what the syrupy-sweet word means in his sacred language, but you know it’s some sort of nickname he’s deemed you worthy of and your cheeks feel unbearably flushed every single time he utters it. You sometimes find yourself repeating it quietly when you’re alone, thinking the foreign word sounds prettier rolling off the tip of his tongue and through his crackly modulator.

But tonight...

"Mesh'la... Mesh’la... Mesh’la"

He seems to only utter the pretty word during intimate moments when he's comforting you or when you reluctantly confess your fears and secrets to him, but tonight… well, he says the word four times within the span of an hour and it certainly has you feeling curious as to what he could possibly be calling you. He mostly breathes out the word in the form of a sigh when he chances a cursory glance down at your wide-eyed features as he describes different flowers and plants, as though he’s just as infatuated with you as you are by his whimsical stories.

“Maybe one day I will have the chance to take you there, mesh’la.”

The way he says it so naturally, as though he’s replacing your other nickname with a new one has you feeling achingly curious, like a moth to a flame, though you trust the Mandalorian not to burn you. You think your more affected by the way he breathes out the foreign word in such an adoring tone than the thought of seeing such a wondrous sight of flowers towering over the massive warrior.

Normally you don’t care much of what others think of you, but something about the fondness and devotion that he somehow manages to convey through a modulated voice and a two-syllable word has your mind racing at what he could possibly be implying.

A large fingertip suddenly grazes the purple and blue flowers you had strategically placed in the thick braid wrapped around your crown the previous morning and you find it hard to focus on the constellations that shimmer and flicker vividly in the night sky, your attention fixed solely on the Mandalorian that sits impossibly close at your side. You can smell his clean, spicy scent that subtly seeps through the cracks of his thick blue armor and you think that Mandalorians in general must have good hygiene, what with how much they must sweat underneath all of that armor. It’s an attractive trait that not many men seem to be capable of--or rather, are simply too lazy to take care of themselves--and you wonder if the comforting scent will linger on your own clothes after being wrapped up in his cape for so long.

“You’re quiet tonight,” He observes with a hum, still seeming entranced by your elegant braids that are a little frizzy from the short flight earlier, “Is something wrong, mesh’la?”

You hesitate a little, but you trust him enough to know he will not make fun of you, “I want to know more about Mandalorian culture, but I do not want to offend you or your people.”

He cocks his head as he continues to smooth unruly baby hairs from your forehead, “What is it you want to know? You already know about our helmets, so I’m certain nothing you ask could offend me.”

You bite the inside of your cheek and shiver when you feel the blunt tips of his nails lightly scratch around where your braid tugs at your scalp, "Is your language sacred? Are outsiders not allowed to learn it?"

His hand hesitates against your tender scalp and you wonder what’s running through his mind as you force yourself to avoid his intense gaze, though you find yourself drawn to it at the same time. You wonder if he’s regarding your beloved flowers with admiration or curiosity, though something tells you that it’s both as he idly plucks a pretty violet from its unlikely home in your thick braid. You find it impressive that such a fearless warrior can possess such tenderness towards something as delicate as a little flower and you suddenly wish it was your cheek or your neck he was caressing, rather than one of your beloved violets.

"Others are allowed to learn it," He finally answers as he observes the vibrant flower closely, "There are even books written in the language. Why do you ask?"

You let out a little huff as he gently twirls the stem of the flower between the rough pads of his thumb and index finger; you can tell he’s purposely ignoring your pointed gaze, "You call me all these names in your language, but I have no idea what they mean. You are not insulting me, are you, Mandalorian?"

"I would never dream of insulting you, little nurse," He grunts, sounding a little bashful as he most likely tries to think of all the ways he can dance around this topic, "Saviin'ika means violet. I only call you that because of the flowers you always put in your hair."

Something about the terseness of his voice makes you think there's more to it, but you shyly drop your tone and your head when you speak up again, barely peering up at him through your lashes, "And mesh'la? You’ve been calling me that since the night you first brought me to the cave."

He freezes, still staring down at the flower he stole from your braid and you can't stop yourself from grinning like a sly loth cat when you realize you've caught the Mandalorian red-handed. When he stubbornly refuses to give you an answer, you decide to take matters into your own hands and force yourself to stop smiling at this new discovery, not wanting him to feel embarrassed over something you think to be sweet.

"Please, look at me," You murmur and he is quick to obey, his visor landing either on your flushed face or the slight shift in your throat as you swallow thickly, "I-Is it a compliment?"

"It…" He clears his throat a little and you remain impossibly patient as the Mandalorian collects his thoughts, "It is what I think of when I see you, or what you must think when you look up at the stars."

You think of all the words you would typically use to describe the sky on a clear night like this one and can't possibly fathom someone seeing you the same way. You can’t imagine him looking at you and seeing supernovas and the vibrant swirls of galaxies in your own eyes; you find it hard to believe that anyone could perceive you as ethereal or fascinating. The Mandalorian must be jesting with you, trying to make you feel better about how hard you are on yourself, though you’ve never known him to be a liar.

Could someone truly believe you to be celestial like the stars that beckon you and cause an achy, longing feeling in your chest at night?

You shake your head a little, "Please do not make fun of me, Mandalorian. I could take it from anyone else, but not from you."

"I would never," He repeats, his voice dropping lower and more gruff, though you hear something more desperate in his tone, "I would never lie when I tell you how pretty I think you are and I would break the bones of anyone who would think it funny to insult you."

“You cannot solve everything with violence, silly man.”

He scoffs, forgetting entirely about the flower he’d robbed you of, “For you? sure I can.”

You move your hand to tuck a stray curl behind the curve of your ear, cheeks burning something fierce as he dutifully envelopes your hand in his much larger one, using the other to assume the task of taming your long hair and finishing it off by placing the flower he’d borrowed behind your ear. A soft exhale deflates your chest when you feel the rough pad of his index finger grazing the shell of your cartilage and you find yourself focusing on the geometric shape in the center of his cuirass instead. Your hand falls out of his and you tuck it next to your other between your thighs in a feeble attempt to keep the warm and from wringing together in a nervous fashion.

"You said that word means what I think when I look up at the stars, but what if I find the stars or these waterfalls to be more than pretty or beautiful? What if I could not think of a word to properly describe what I feel when I see the sky on a night like this one? Or how the moonlight looks when it reflects off your visor and armor?"

His fingers swiftly move to the bottom of your earlobe and you think he must be amused by how hot the flesh is there, no doubt burning his own rough skin. You may have caused him to grow slightly flustered, but he certainly has you beat in this lovely competition where you think there would not be any losers, only two blushing souls that don’t know how to properly display their feelings. If your last comment about the moonlight affected him at all, he certainly doesn’t let it show in his strong, steady hands or his deep baritone.

“Then I guess Mandalorians need a better word to describe someone or something that is more than beautiful--for what you see when you look at the stars and when I look at you. Perhaps someone should make revisions to the language and use you as inspiration to come up with something more fitting, mesh’la.”

You’re not sure why the emotionless gaze of his shiny visor makes you feel intoxicated and lightheaded, but you find yourself growing flushed whenever the Mandalorian lowers his helmet and cocks it to the side to get a better look at your face. He huffs out a small chuckle when you press your palms to your burning cheeks and you’re sure that your heart is about to leap right out of your chest and straight into your Mandalorian’s warm palm. You’re certain you would trust him not to crush it in a tight fist, especially after witnessing the utter caution he had displayed to not accidentally rip the petals or bruise the stem of something that he was well aware of that was so precious to you.

You think that perhaps the Mandalorian already holds your heart in his hand and while the startling thought should absolutely terrify you, it fills you with a tender warmth.

As if it’s not enough that you feel like you’re about to combust, the Mandalorian seals the deal as he gently pries your hands from your cheeks and replaces them with his own; the stark contrast in size and warmth makes you feel as though you’ve stolen his jetpack and are floating high in the night sky. He urges you to tilt your head to the side and upwards to peer up at his emotionless visor and you shiver when one of his hands slowly slides down the side of your exposed neck. Something about the way the moonlight and glittering stars that hang high above you and how it emphasizes the dull color of his blue-gray armor has you squirming around a little bit.

"Is your skin always this warm, or is it because of what I said?"

If you weren't so flustered, you would have laughed at the question; you are certain he is being sly and cocky with you and you pray that you won’t spontaneously combust into flames, "Don't tease me, Mandalorian, you know what you're doing to me. I think you’ve known since that night you carried me home and played with my hair."

You hate that your voice comes out as a shaky sigh--a dreamy little noise that has the blue warrior grunting and bringing your face closer to him. It seems to be something he absolutely adores, having you this close to him and you think it must be something he takes advantage of because he hasn’t experienced it before. You wonder how often he has the chance to take off his thick leather gloves to feel the warmth of another and selfishly, you hope that you are the only one he’s touched like this in a while.

"Do I? I don't think I know what I do to you, would you care to explain, mesh'la?" Judging by his light tone, you think he must be grinning underneath that blue bucket and when you anxiously bring your lower lip between your teeth, he’s swift to untuck it with the rough pad of his thumb, "Or should I keep teasing you? I can play with your hair again, if that’s what you really want?”

Your cheeks puff out against his palms and you squirm a little, though he keeps you firmly in place, still stroking the valley just underneath your lip, "You can do whatever you wish, Mandalorian, I would prefer to not see the weight of your ego crush you though."

A loud laugh drifts past his crackly modulator and you think the sound is lovelier than the loud waterfalls that surround the two of you, "I am pretty strong, I think I could handle the weight."

You shake your head at the confidence he exudes, though your cheeks still burn as you banter playfully with him and let him continue to tenderly hold you head however he pleases, “Men like you are all bark and no bite.”

“I can assure you that my bite is just as strong as my bark, mesh’la--or would you prefer to feel it firsthand?”

“Kriff,” You roll your eyes at him and though you try your hardest to appear exasperated with him, you can’t stop the smile that stretches your lips, “You’re insufferable when you get this cocky.”

“Something makes me think you like it,” His voice drops into a cool, deep rasp and you’re extremely aware of the way his thumb dips to the hollow of your throat before skimming along your collarbone, lightly pushing his cape out of the way, “You would tell me to stop if you were ever uncomfortable, wouldn’t you?”

You quickly steel your nerves as he continues to explore your shoulders the skin exposed just above the collar of your dress, “I mean, I haven’t stabbed you yet with the vibroblade you gave me, so I would say you’re good so far, Mandalorian.”

Risking a curious glance up at your aloof companion, your cheeks and earlobes instantly feel like burning coals when you realize his visor is pointed directly at your face and though you would never wish to intentionally disrespect his creed, you yearn to know how his eyes look whenever he decides to gaze upon you. Are his eyes just as expressive as he insists yours are? Do the corners crinkle whenever he laughs or smiles at your silly antics or when you sass him? Do they shimmer with sadness or shame whenever he discovers a new bruise, cut, or scar on your abused skin?

You think of dark eyes, glimmering ferociously with wrath and pain, rather than pity, because you refuse to believe the Mandalorian pities you.

You ponder all these questions deeply as you stare into the abyss of his visor, though you think the way the moonlight reflects off of it is just as lovely of a sight that you’re certain his eyes are. Though you long to see him all hours of the day, you think that the subtle glow of the moonlight bathing his dull blue armor in a soft, pearlescent shimmer makes for a better, more comfortable setting, rather than bleak gray skies that make the world around you so dreary.

A soft sigh leaves you and your chest deflates when his thumb grazes your brow; he almost seems fixated on a certain spot as he continues to stroke the soft little hairs at the end of the tail.

"You have a little scar here,” He observes with a small hum and he sounds thoughtful as his thumb ventures downwards to your cheekbone; you’re afraid that if you move in the slightest, he’ll pull his hand away, so you stay perfectly still as he traces the map of your face like he’s the best explorer in the galaxy.

“I got it as a child,” You inform him, lips twitching into a tiny smile when his thumb skims past the bridge of your nose, tickling the tip a little, “We used to have a tree in our backyard that I would always climb even though my mother told me not to. She was always so worried about me getting hurt, but you know how children are--they never listen and always go against their parents’ wishes. I loved climbing that tree though. It always made me feel like I was on top of the world and could do anything.”

You must have a fond or wistful expression etched on your face, because the Mandalorian breathes out a funny noise when you continue with your story, “I don’t remember how old I was, maybe seven or eight? But I had climbed as high as I could in that tree--higher than ever before--and I was so proud of myself. I remember how pretty the sunset looked from that high up and how the stars seemed a little closer, just like right now on top of this cliff. It was so peaceful and then--” Your cheeks nearly hurt from how much you’re smiling, because even though you had gotten hurt at the time, looking back on it now, it’s more amusing than anything, “A bird landed right next to me and scared me half to death.”

You’re not sure how it’s possible to feel judgment from an emotionless mask, but the Mandalorian manages to exude such energy as he shakes his helmet a little, “You… You fell out of a tree?”

“Yup,” You giggle a little when he continues to shake his head, “Face first into a rock. My parents were so upset with me and I remember forcing myself not to cry when my mother stitched up the wound because I didn’t want her to point out that I had been hurt because I disobeyed them.”

“Did you climb the tree after that?”

The nostalgia suddenly leaves you feeling a little melancholic and you shift your attention down to your hands that are tucked politely between your thighs. You hope he doesn’t sense your sadness, though you think he must, what with the way the pressure against your jaw line lightens and how he tenderly grazes a thumb to the corner of your lips.

“My father cut it down the next day.”

His fingers twitch against your flushed skin and though you know it upsets him whenever you mention anything having to do with your father and how you are nothing more than a prisoner in a world so bleak and unforgiving, you find solace and comfort in confessing your fears and sad thoughts to the Mandalorian. You’ve never owned the luxury of being able to openly display your vulnerability in front of another, but with him, you feel as though you can bare your soul and perhaps one day, the rest of your scars etched in your skin and your heart.

“Then maybe one day, I will cut him down as well.”

His terse words sound like a promise and you feel a little sick at how the thought of your father’s demise fills you with hope.

“He is my father,” You remind both the Mandalorian and yourself, still refusing to meet his Beskar gaze, “He is family.”

“No, mesh’la,” He drops his helmet and you shiver from the cold press of metal against your forehead; his hand drops to your waist and lightly squeezes it, “He is a monster that deserves to feel shame for what he’s done to his own blood. I would make him suffer, just as you have your entire life because of him. I would make him feel your pain.”

You close your eyes as the metal warms underneath your skin and you hesitantly bring a hand up to touch his blue cheek, “I would not ask you of that, Mandalorian--to do such a thing.”

He grunts and pulls you in a little closer, “Why’s that?”

“Because I do not want to believe you are capable of doing what he has done to me.”

His hand instantly freezes on your cheek upon hearing your quiet sentiment and you fear that you've said something bad or offensive, though you think it's not that. Perhaps having such a notorious reputation of his people being brutes or savages has him believing it to be true, though you don't think being ruthless or fearless should automatically equate to being recognized as a cruel human being.

You’ve seen his kindness firsthand and you’re certain that his anger and need for vengeance comes from a good place in his soft heart.

With a sad smile, you carefully sling your legs over one of his padded thighs and fold yourself closer against his side, shivering a little when a cold breeze wafts past the two of you; he’s dutiful to tug his cape tighter around you and you think you could stay like that for however long the Maker will let you live.

His fingers are splayed wide against your side, his thumb rubbing haphazard shapes against your bruised ribs, though the pressure is deliberately light and more of a tickle than anything else. You turn your head until it's situated comfortably between the inside of his bicep and his cuirass, just above where you hope his heart is beating just as frantically as yours.

"I would feel ashamed for you to see me that way," You swear you hear his natural voice underneath the lip of his helmet and you shudder when his hand lazily slides to the base of your spine, "But if I ever saw him and he… if he ever hurt you to the point where you could not be healed, I would not hesitate to act so cruelly and I would not let anyone stop me," Goosebumps rise on your covered arms and you're not sure if it's from his promise or the way his fingers drag tortuously slow up your back, "I understand you do not wish for more violence and I respect that, but I do not know how much longer I could let this go on."

You let out a deep exhale when his hand promptly lands on your hip and gives it a firm squeeze, "You worry far too much for me, Mandalorian."

"I do not worry nearly enough for you, saviin'ika," He sighs when you move your head to peer up at him through the thick abundance of your lashes, "If I did, he would have been a dead man that day you stitched me up and he talked to you that way. I would burn that whole fucking village to the ground if… if you were taken away from me. I would do anything for you.”

“I--” You feel speechless at how raw he’s being with you, confessing what you think is a fear that he’s veiled with a threatening promise, “You haven’t known me that long and you…?”

His free hand moves to the hollow at the base of your throat and your breath hitches when he feels your erratic pulse thrumming underneath his rough fingertips, “I know your heart, mesh’la--I knew what kind of person you were from the moment you offered me that salve and didn’t expect anything in return. I know that…” He makes a funny noise upon noticing the way you shiver when he slowly drags his hand up the column of your neck, “I know that I think about you more than I think about anyone else and that every time I try to sleep, all I can think of is your smile and those flowers you always put in your braids. Sometimes I swear I can smell them in your hair, but I must be imagining it for my own selfish purposes--it’s too sweet of a scent.”

When you speak, it’s a breathy whisper that barely reaches the bottom of his shiny visor, fogging it up a little, “Mandalorian…”

“You were scared of me that night--after you stitched me up and I followed you out of the infirmary,” He remembers and even though it was only over a month ago, you feel as though you’ve know him for far longer; that night feels like it took place lifetimes ago, “Before I told you that I wanted to walk you home, you thought I was going to hurt you and I never cared about scaring others before, but you--”

You struggle to blink away the tears in your eyes as he spills his heart out to you, something that you’re certain can’t be an easy feat when he’s spent so much of his life covered in metal that disguises what he’s truly feeling, but you remain silent as he continues.

“I made you cry and I didn’t like it, that I made you feel that way when I could tell it was something you were used to feeling so much--that kind of fear and dread,” He sighs, a grave sounding noise, and shakes his helmet at the memory, as if it’s something that constantly haunts him, “I don’t want you to feel sad when you’re with me; I don’t want you to be afraid of me. I want you to feel safe and... and cared for.”

“The only reason I feared you at first is because I was a naive fool that chose to listen to the rumors about your people,” You remind him, not happy with how distraught he sounds as he recalls your unfortunate first meeting and how badly you he had caused you such fear with his mere presence, “I knew what kind of man you were the moment you gave me your vibroblade to protect myself with.”

He steadily holds your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your head backwards so you’re forced to look directly into his visor where you think his eyes fondly peer down at you, “And what kind of man is that, little nurse?”

You are very much aware of the close proximity between you two, your legs still draped over his thigh and his heavy arm wrapped firmly around your waist to prevent you from escaping, though you think you would never attempt such a feat.

Not when he’s warming you from the inside out.

“An honorable man who’s deathly loyal to the ones he cares for and deems worthy of his affections.”

He thoughtfully gazes at you for a few moments, thumb steadily swiping and exploring the soft angles and valleys of your jaw line, “Do you think I deem you worthy of my affections?”

“I am not sure if I would deserve something so precious,” You admit in a breathy whisper, “But maybe someday I will allow myself to believe myself worthy of such a thing.”

He grunts and shakes his helm, “You are worth so much more, mesh’la, so much more.”

He sounds like he’s being genuine and utterly serious, so you give him a shy smile and nod a little, not trusting your voice at the moment.

You think he must not experience skin contact often, what with the way his rough fingers always trace your cheeks or jaw line when you two are alone, but you find that you don't mind his curious hands one bit and you think him to be endearing. Any time his bare fingers graze your skin, you think it to be similar to a child’s curiosity, as though he’s experiencing something astounding for the first time ever and you pray that he never tires of the sensation, especially when you crave it so badly.

Maker, do you crave the rough warmth of his fingers against any part of you.

“For a big grouchy Mandalorian, you’re not too terrible with words.”

You're sitting so close to him that you hear an amused snort from underneath his helmet and your smirk instantly turns into a grin when he retorts with a tug of your earlobe, though it's not enough to cause any discomfort. After getting to know him a little better in the last week, you find it endearing that the Mandalorian seems more confident when it comes to touching you, no longer treating you like some sort of fragile ornament. When he occasionally touches your neck, his fingers are no longer a ghost of a touch, and as though it’s instinct to constantly comfort you, he uses a firmer pressure to melt the knots and aches away, rather than hesitant, light touches he had been giving you during your first few initial meetings.

Now, he seems to constantly seek close contact, whether he’s wearing gloves or not, and you certainly won’t deny him such a small request.

It’s not like you absolutely crave it--a comforting squeeze of your nape or the way he holds you close when he's using his jetpack and carrying you to the cave. You think of the way he barely nudges you with his shoulder or when he playfully tugs your earlobe whenever you jest around with him, or how determined his hands are when they map out the slopes and valleys of your face and neck.

Then there's the way he always touches your hair so fondly--always with a bare hand and you think that perhaps he's afraid that his gloves are too dirty and he's afraid of somehow soiling your usually unruly mane. Perhaps he just prefers to feel the soft locks against his skin and it's because of that presumption alone that you find yourself carefully combing out the knots in your hair more often, though you think it wouldn't matter to the warrior if your hair was a tangled mess all the time.

It's definitely not something you constantly daydream about when you find yourself miserable at work, or when you're unable to give into exhaustion at the end of the day. At first, you attempt to not think about the heavy-infantry warrior and the effect his mere presence has on you, but at some point about halfway through the week, you decided to simply give up and allow yourself a small semblance of hope and warmth.

"You have to be at the infirmary soon," He eventually sighs when the sun begins to barely rise over the horizon and you swear you hear guilt laced within his deep baritone; you hadn’t even realized how much time had passed, "I didn't mean to keep you up all night, saviin’ika. You could have been sleeping instead."

You smile fondly at the Mandalorian and tightly squeeze his hand, "I haven't been sleeping all that well lately, so I would much prefer to spend my time with you, rather than tossing and turning in my bed all night. Besides, it's been a while since I've seen the sunrise."

“Nevarro’s sunrises and sunsets aren’t that exciting or something to look forward to.”

You huff, "All sunrises are exciting, Mandalorian."

He hums and pulls you closer into an affectionate embrace; you think that without all the armor, it would be far easier to melt against him and stay trapped within the safety of his arms forever. You find that the times he chooses to hold you close is the only time you forget about your broken home and the two souls that haunt it--one full of despair and longing and the other filled with violence and rage.

You think of the Mandalorian, someone who comes from a tribe of fearless warriors that are astonishingly loyal to one another, and you understand why the nature of your situation upsets him so much. The little ones, foundling or blood, are the key to the Mandalorian existence and are all cherished and respected amongst all the adults, so of course any of his people would be horrified at the thought of intentionally hurting a child.

It’s for that reason that you constantly remind your Mandalorian that you are not a child, but an adult that has no control over their situation.

That being said, you selfishly allow yourself to think of a better life whenever he holds you or caresses your cheeks and hair--a life where you are far away from Nevarro and all of the cruel people that cause it to fester so terribly. You greedily think of a life with your blue Mandalorian on one of the many beautiful planets that he had previously described to you in great detail and it nearly forces tears into your eyes.

Only when your chest aches is when you remind yourself that it’s a foolish dream--a childish one that most likely won’t ever come to fruition.

You’re not sure how long the Mandalorian will choose to brighten up your bleak days, though having him here with you in this moment is enough to give you hope. He's already shown you that not everything on this planet is terrible and perhaps your future isn't as set in stone as you initially thought.

"I should take you back," He sounds disgruntled as the sun starts to turn the dark blue sky into shades of dull pinks and oranges, though there's a thin layer of fog that distorts what would have been a lovely view, "That way you can at least get a little sleep before work."

"You're one to talk," You petulantly argue, though he seems to know you well enough to understand you're being lighthearted with him, "I'm starting to think you don't ever sleep."

He scoffs a little and playfully squeezes your hip, "I nap sometimes.”

You frown as you reluctantly pull yourself away from the warmth of his embrace, already feeling colder as you slowly stand and try to shake the pins and needles from your feet. Holding out a hand for the Mandalorian to take, you grunt a little as you struggle to help him up, though he ends up doing most of the work, no doubt amused by your dramatic noises. You think the armor must add at least over twenty pounds and that’s not even including his heavy weapons and equipment, which must weigh twice as much.

You take one last look at the sunrise and the beautiful waterfalls as the Mandalorian straps his jetpack to his back; even though the waterfalls aren't nearly as massive about the ones you've read about in books, you think them to be no less breathtaking.

It's far more beautiful than anything your own mind could hope to conjure and as you observe the way the lengthy streams of water that cascades wildly off the edge of the slightly larger cliff twenty or so feet behind you and your companion, you wish you could burn the image into your mind for the rest of your days.

"Mesh'la," The Mandalorian's soft baritone pulls you from your wistful thoughts and you turn to him with a small smile, tucking his cape around your head in a protective manner so your flowers won’t get lost mid-flight, "You ready?"

"Yes, thank you for taking me here," Your smile grows when he offers you a hand that is now unfortunately clad in leather once again, his weapons and equipment all in place as well, “Perhaps we can come back someday.”

He easily tugs you into an embrace that is only slightly awkward because of the Beskar shell that protects him from a world that seems to despise his kind. Without the armor, you think that he’d give the most comforting hugs, what with his massive stature and big arms, though you’re willing to take what you can get from him.

“I would bring you back here or to the cave any night you wish.”

You huff and firmly wrap your arms around his neck as he takes off without giving you any warning, a small squeak leaving you and you’re certain he’s amused by the way his shoulders shake a little. His other hand comes up to the back of your head to keep his cape in place and you think he must be as protective of your flowers--if not more--than you are.

“Any night? Those are dangerous words, Mandalorian.”

He chuckles a little and rolls his helmet to the side when your fingers unconsciously dig into his nape, just underneath the lip of his helmet where fabric is bunched up, “You could ask me to take you to the cave every single night and I would happily do it if it meant I got to hold you like this all the time.”

You’re grateful that you can hide your flushed face against the crook of his neck, though you decide to muster up enough courage in an attempt to cause a reaction from him, “You don’t need the jetpack in order to hold me like this.”

His metal cheek bumps a little against your bare one as he struggles to get a good look at the bashful expression etched on your face and you shyly shift in his arms so you can lift your head and peer at him. You imagine a man flustered underneath all that armor, smiling so large that his cheeks hurt or perhaps his skin burning just as hotly as yours had earlier when he had been hellbent on making you accept your beauty and worth.

You wonder if the Mandalorian would be as open and flirty with you if his heart was buried so deep underneath layers or padding and Beskar, where he was easily able to conceal his fears or insecurities and you think it must be easy for him.

“Yeah?” The Mandalorian interrupts your thoughts when he lightly nudges the hollow of his blue cheek against yours again, though it somehow seems much more tender this time, as if he’s calmed himself, “And what if I want more? I can be a selfish man sometimes, saviin’ika.”

You conceal your smile against the lighter blue patch in the hollowed metal, trying your hardest not to giggle like a child with a crush on someone that you know you can’t have. The gritty nature of his low baritone makes something warm expand in the pit of your stomach and you know it’s no longer because of the weightless feeling of flying high in the sky with your Mandalorian, but rather the promise of his words.

You think he sounds just as longing as you feel for something you convinced yourself long ago that you were undeserving of and you wonder if he’s dreamed about this as long as you have.

“Then perhaps that makes two of us,” You whisper, continuing when you hear him grunt a little, “I know you think me to selfless and pure, but I have wants and dreams as well, Mandalorian.”

He doesn’t say anything at the small drop in your tone, but the way he squeezes your hip tells you everything you need to know as he expertly makes his way back to the village that is barely starting to come alive in the early hours. He lands on the outskirts of the village, taking great care to make sure you don’t collapse, as your legs always feel so numb and wobbly after he carries you, and dread courses through your veins when you eventually see the infirmary in the distance.

“Saviin’ika,” The blue warrior gently grabs your wrists, keeping you from taking another step forward, though his grip is light and tender, leather thumbs grazing the insides of your wrists, “I cannot go any further, but I had a really nice night. I... I want to keep seeing you.”

You cock your head at how he suddenly sounds a little tense and shy, but you give him a small smile and nod a little; the moment feels a tiny bit awkward, like two souls that don’t know how to properly say goodbye after such a lovely date, “I had a nice night as well. I expect you to keep that promise of taking me to the cave or the waterfalls whenever I wish, Mandalorian.”

He chuckles at your playful, yet demanding tone, reluctantly accepting the cape that you briefly thought about stealing from him just so you wouldn’t forget his scent, “Of course, mesh’la. I would not be able to deny you anything at this point, I think, nor would I want to.”

“You spoil me,” You blush, sheepishly turning your gaze away from him, “Yet I do nothing for you.”

He scoffs, shaking his helm at you and he sounds exasperated when he speaks, “You give me far more than you know. I... I’ll see you later?”

The cockiness in his deep baritone is gone and suddenly replaced with something more bashful and endearing, almost as though he’s intimidated by you.

“I’ll be here, as usual.”

“Is that a promise?”

“I would never lie to you,” You answer with a fond grin, watching as the warrior turns to take his leave; in your usual fashion, you’re quick to stop him, a playful expression etched along your features, “Mandalorian, wait!”

He faces you once more and his body seems to straighten up a little when he sees you plucking sapphire and violet wildflowers from your braids with the same grace he’d display upon fighting an enemy.

The blue Mandalorian cocks his head to the side, no doubt confused as you bundle the pretty flowers together before making your way over to him with a nervous energy surrounding you. You pray to the Maker that he doesn’t perceive you as ridiculous or childish as you grab his hand and pull it towards you with purpose and excitement. He gives absolutely no struggle when you flip the appendage over and unfurl his fingers from the loose fist he seems to constantly have them hooked into when he doesn’t know what to do with his hands.

“What are you--?”

His voice almost sounds panicked as you place the tiny bouquet in his palm and push it back towards him with a huge grin stretched across your lips, cheeks burning as he shifts his attention multiple times from the flowers to you. It’s such a simple gesture, but you can tell it’s thrown the normally unbothered Mandalorian completely off his axis and you find him utterly endearing as he shakes his head and attempts to give them back to you.

“These are your flowers, saviin’ika. I would not take something so precious from you.”

“I have so many in my office and at home, Mandalorian,” You gently push his hand away once more and step a little closer to him, never removing your hand from his, “Besides, it is the least I can do for all you have done for me--always taking me away from the village and being so kind to me. The blue flowers are Lobelias and they have healing properties for respiratory ailments, should anything happen to anyone in your tribe and you are not able to bring them to me. The violets are good for soothing salves and are very anti-inflammatory; I’m sure they would be helpful for bruising or swelling.

He stares intensely at you and shakes his helmet a little, “You don’t have to... are you sure?”

“I know you said it is your duty to provide for your tribe and it seems as though you are lacking nurses and medical supplies; it would be an honor if you accepted my flowers, though I fear it is not as effective as bacta,” You grow a little shy when he remains deathly silent and you fear that you’ve offended him somehow, “Besides, you said earlier that sometimes you think you can sometimes smell them from under your helmet, so now you can find out for yourself when you are alone and able to take your helmet off.”

His tone is one you’ve never heard and it has you reaching up to touch his blue cheek as he speaks in a strained tone, foregoing all nicknames he’s bestowed upon you to utter your real name, though you think you much prefer how fond he sounds when he calls you ‘saviin’ika’.

“I think I would much prefer to smell them while they’re still in your hair.”

You think he’s just trying to cover up the shift in his attitude with a flirty comment and his personality must be rubbing off on you, because you are quick and coy to reply.

“Then perhaps one day you will.”

“Th-Thank you,” His baritone is a coarse rasp and you beam at him a little brighter because you don’t think you’ve ever seen someone so grateful for something so simple; he lowers his helm and firmly presses his forehead to yours, though he keeps it there for several longing moments, a leather palm cupping your nape to keep you in place, “I will tell the others what you did--that you wished to help us. I think they would appreciate knowing that there are others that care.”

“I am glad. I cannot imagine being hated just for the armor you wear or your reputation,” You murmur, dropping your hand and watching as he gingerly tucks the bundle of flowers into the large pouch attached to his hip, taking great caution so he doesn’t crush the petals; your cheeks hurt from smiling so much as he pulls out tiny daggers and other belongings from the pouch so they won’t bring any harm to his newest, most fragile possessions, “The nodes are attached to flowers as well, so if you wish to plant them, they will be easy to re-grow.”

He huffs out a small chuckle, “Our kind are forced to live in sewers. We don’t get any sunlight underground, little nurse. Besides, I am not nearly as talented of a gardener as you.”

“They would grow just as well with artificial light, Mandalorian, and they are extremely easy to take care of,” You say, matter-of-factly, with a sly smile and quirked brows as he cocks his helmet to closely regard you, “Though I would not mind giving you more, regardless of what you do with the ones I have given you.”

“That would… it would be nice,” He admits quietly and you grin at your companion, earning you an exasperated shake of the helmet from him, “You are far too kind."

“After everything you have done for me--the hope and happiness you have filled me with--it is the least I can do. I would give you every flower I’ve ever grown if you asked.”

He hesitates as he reaches back into the pouch to retrieve one of your many beloved violets, stepping closer to tuck it securely behind the cartilage of your ear with great care, “It would be unfair and cruel to leave you with not a single flower in your hair, mesh’la. I would not allow anyone to rob you of your only possessions, especially not myself.”

You’re beaming up at him like a love-struck fool and he must be distracted as much as you are, because neither one of you sense the furious gaze that’s fixated on the two of you from down the street.

He leaves you with his usual parting words, “Take care of yourself, little nurse.”

“You as well, Mandalorian.”

Despite your promise, the Mandalorian does not see you later that night.

Saviin’ika= Little violet

Mesh’la= Beautiful

Taglist: @parabatai-winchester @auty-ren @theocatkov @oloreaa @talesfromtheguild @blindedbyyourgrace17 @datmando @dartheldur @miscellaneous-mando @karpasia @ben-is-a-hoe @the-feckless-wonder @whatababeleia @maybege @aeryntheofficial @corrupt-fvcker @lackofhonor @phoenixhalliwell @crazy-kat-in-the-hat @roxypeanut @mandolovian @honestlystop @teaofpeach @macabrefaerie @acynicalcat

For the love of God, if I missed anyone, please send me an angry message and I will quickly add you :( I have a notebook where I keep track of everything, but I’m still terrified I’m going to forget someone and I absolutely do not want that bc I love you all so much <3

Anyways, I know this chapter was literally 99% fluff/hurt/comfort with a freaking cliffhanger (I am so sorry) But I hope you all enjoyed the chapter! The support and love you all have given me so far has been so encouraging and I’ve been having so much fun writing this soft ass story!!

#paz vizla x reader #paz vizla x you #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #mandalorian fanfic #Mandalorian #my writing #y'all know this big blue bitch went straight back to the enclave #and ripped his helmet off to smell the flowers #every night is date night with these 2 idiots #oml

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fuckyeahisawthat · 4 years

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Still thinking about the near-universal Mediocre Critical Consensus on Trust. Because when I find something I LOVE and someone else just...doesn’t connect with it, I get really curious as to why.

I’m giving the critics who only got to screen the first three episodes a pass, because the show really does not lead with its most compelling material, and also that’s a dumb way to ask critics to provide an honest review of a serialized story and networks should stop doing it.

But there are a number of critics who were writing week-by-week summaries (including the guy who complained about the Calabrian characters speaking too much Calabrese, but not only him) who just seemed to completely miss so much of what made the show interesting. And I can’t help wondering how much of this was due to a disconnect between how they expected the story to be told and how it actually was told.

All the criticism I read is blending together a bit now, but there was more than one reviewer who seemed...unduly fixated on Fletcher Chase. And, hey, don’t get me wrong here. Brendan Fraser is great in that role. But he’s a secondary character. And while he’s a useful narrator and tone-setter, other than in episode 2, where he incorrectly ascertains that the kidnapping is a hoax, he contributes...almost nothing to moving the plot along, in the sense of making choices that shape the narrative. In many parts of the show his main role is to be a scene partner for Gail, who is the one shaping the narrative a lot of the time she’s on screen.

And the thing is, you can see a more conventionally-told version of the story where Fletcher Chase is the hero. He’s the closest the story gets to a cop character, the traditional POV character of many crime stories. (He’s the character who gets played by Mark Wahlberg in the movie, and I mean that in both a symbolic and literal sense.) A lot of kidnapping/missing person stories place the audience identification and agency with the searchers/rescuers, not the victim, and certainly not the kidnapper. The searchers may be law enforcement or they may be family members, but we’re very used to seeing the story from their perspective.

Trust doesn’t completely flip that POV, but it distributes our attention and the narrative agency (whose decisions make the plot happen) much more evenly between Gail, Little Paul, and Primo. And this means that we end up understanding their perspectives and motivations pretty much equally, even when they’re set against each other.

To be fair, it is a bit of a slow burn to understand exactly what the show is doing. For me, watching it the first time through, it clicked somewhere around episode 4, which has a lot of scenes with Primo pursuing a goal on his own (it may be related to Paul but he’s not sharing a scene with him). This is where you start to understand why Primo is doing what he’s doing, on an emotional/psychological level and not just a financial one, and maybe start to root for him a bit against an uncle who doesn’t seem to have a lot of faith in him. Which is the perfect thing to do before the show completely flips our perspective upside down and makes him the antagonist for all of episode 5. Because we’ve spent time getting to know him a bit, the show can do that without completely breaking our identification with him, even when he is being very scary and a direct threat to our other main character.

Even if it takes you a while to adjust your expectations, the structure of the narrative should be very clear by the end of episode 6, when we have the Meeting of the Two Dons, Salvatore and Old Paul. Because this whole sequence is about showing both how the two families are alike and how the Gettys are just operating on a vastly different scale in terms of power. (It’s a real trick to make an organized crime syndicate look like the underdogs but they manage it.) If you haven’t yet figured out that this is a story about two families and the ways they mirror and echo each other, not just a story about the Gettys, it should be obvious at this point. This is also the sequence where, if you haven’t yet picked up on the fact that this is a show about capitalism and class, you get hit over the head with it in a delightfully unsubtle way.

Then, after pitting Primo against Paul and Gail in episode 5/6, the show realigns them, so that they all have the same hope and fear at the end of episode 7--hoping that the ransom will be delivered, and fearing that it won’t be. Meanwhile we’re watching the other Pauls screw everything up for them. (This might have been, watching the first time through, where I put it together that Primo’s not just...an antagonist who’s appealing to identify with, but not really the antagonist of the series at all. Which is the absolute perfect place to realize this, since episode 8 is all about rooting for him. And which is not something I have seen any mainstream review touch on even though once the whole narrative structure of the series is laid out, it seems incredibly obvious to me.)

Perhaps, like me, you read that review and aside from rolling your eyes at the complaint about having to spend NEARLY AN WHOLE HOUR reading subtitles, you also thought...how in the hell did anyone not find episode 8 unbearably suspenseful?? But the thing is...suspense only works if we care about the characters who are at risk. And the suspense of that episode is entirely driven by worrying about Primo, Leo and Leo’s family. Paul is allllmost incidental to the narrative in episode 8.

Now, y’all know very well by this point that I think the show does a good job of developing the Calabrian characters into three-dimensional human beings who have specificity and vulnerabilities and moments of kindness and interesting relationships to each other, and in allowing us to understand how their world works and why they’re doing what they’re doing. And one of the best things about the show is that it doesn’t just explore the why that gets talked about in a lot of the show’s publicity--why would the richest man in the world not pay a ransom for his grandson?--but it takes on what I think is the much more interesting why. Why did the kidnapping happen at all? What kind of life circumstances make crime and violence an appealing option to someone? And this is where we’re really talking about capitalism and class.

But, if you’re someone who’s not open to or interested in the places the show is leading you to as it unfolds toward its conclusion, then you miss all this. Then episode 8 is boring, because it’s not clear why we need to spend a whole episode with “just” the villains and their problems and their families and their social rituals. Even though episode 8 is an almost perfect mirror of episode 1, when we spend just as much time with the Gettys and their problems and their families and their social rituals. And then you miss why the end of the show is so satisfying, because “he removes kings and he sets up kings” only works if you’re paying attention to both sides of the equation.

#trust fx #Film Criticism #pov #primo nizzuto #this show is about capitalism and class at its root

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strangerays · 3 years

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Nothing in Particular Update #2

It’s the Nothing and Particular and Everything update part two: the electric booglaloo. This one is long, so strap in.

It’s been a while since I wrote an update for this story. To be honest, this one gave me a lot of stress, but here I am! Writing this story feels like it is going very slow. I keep telling myself I’ve made a lot of progress (which is true, I have) but for some reason it doesn’t feel like I have? This is likely just my own insecurity. To be frank, I can’t believe I’m still writing this story. If you had told me in February that I’d still be writing this when the weather got warm, I would have laughed.

I am SO excited that I will finally be able to focus on writing now that I’m out of school. I’m afraid to speak the rough deadline that I’ve given myself for this story (the end of August-early September) but now that I’ve spoken it into existence, I hope I can finish! (I hope I can stop watching dumb videogame playthroughs and listening to The Magnus Archives and get something done)

Here is a link to the story introduction and previous update!

TAGLIST (ask to be +/-); @wannabeauthorzofija @a-completely-normal-writer @baguettethebooklover @corkytheguar @writeherewaiting

STORY CHANGES/THOUGHTS/IDEAS:

Here is a big one: I’ve been trying to write this story for myself. I started writing Ray’s story from a place that was personal to me, but I feel like, as that part of myself has begun to heal, I’ve started to think about what a reader would want out of the story. I’m realizing that this is my story so it has to be what I want. Drafts are drafts for a reason, so I’m going to try to get better at letting myself explore what is fun to me.

I always thought I was a discovery writer (I still sort of think I am) but as I’ve finished small sections of the story, I am finding that it’s very helpful to do a rough outline of scenes in upcoming chapters. (I also recommend turning to this if something doesn’t work and you need to retrace your steps!) Just helps me feel more organized!

Jude’s character has got to be one of the most difficult personalities I’ve ever written. Putting her beside Ray just makes it harder. Where Ray is secretive and keeps to herself, Jude is ready to unpack her entire life’s story to anyone. I find that I really have to slow down when writing their interactions. I know this is going to be nowhere near perfect in the first draft, but I think it is a main contributor to my slow writing.

I really like this little narrative I’ve created in the background of the main plot with Ray and Lonan. I love writing these scenes because it’s a way for me to use Lonan when he’s not actively with Ray and to show why Ray is predetermined about things at certain points. Also I love their friendship so much <3

CONGRATULATIONS TO ME on starting to read again because I forgot how much of a help reading other people’s stories can be when you’re struggling with your own oml

I now have a set timeline for the story! Takes place ~4-5 months.

I did that thing where you write a letter from the characters’ perspectives and that was kind of fun

Also just for fun I thought I’d add in that I spent an hour and a half last week filling up a page in my sketchbook with diagrams of the plot. It feels good to be a mad scientist

EXCERPTS UNDER THE CUT!

*At this point, I’m only sharing writing that I am really proud of in order not to spoil the story! This is because I am unsure whether I want to publish this story someday. With that said, that does NOT give you permission to steal my ideas!

CHAPTER: NIGHT CRIES

In the last week of summer, I did everything I could to avoid post-vacation blues. I rode my bike along the gravel roads with no destination, wore my dark sunglasses to people-watch, and fed salami to the minnows that floated on the cusps of boulders. Usually, I sat still for so long that my elbows turned a deep shade of red and the blood in my toes buzzed.

New pockets seemed to open up in Point Blink every day. And with them, came new people. Most of them were older – a middle aged woman who caked her lipstick on, an uncle estranged from his brother, a couple who had miscarried. I hadn’t forgotten about the kids at Mothouse. It was impossible not to think about them. It wasn’t just that I’d never seen them before.

The girl’s limp cigarette bled a trail of smoke that seeped into my Vans. My shirt folded like skin over my bed post. Haunted the room – foiled my mauve sheets and teased my locks. Swept the curtains apart and heated the oak floor. Beams of moonlight leapt to my bookcases; highlighted the posters from various podcasts and bands that I listened to. Wind whistled when I was too still. She forced me to look outside, onto the dark cul-de-sac lit by the reflections of forming rain puddles. No matter whether I sat at my desk or burrowed under my sheets, I felt out of place. She made my bedroom louder. She made my bedroom quieter.

I decided it would probably be best if I never saw her again.

To be honest, I don’t remember much about writing this chapter because it was over a month ago (sorry) but I’m still quite happy with the prose! This comes in after Ray sees Jude for the first time at Mothouse. Based on a first impression, decides that she might want be friends with Jude.

CHAPTER: SORRY

If you spend any long amount of time with someone, you’ll become a thief to their behaviors. If I stared long enough, trees began to replace all of the people we’d ever seen. Oaks had roots that serpentined the ground like children splashing in the bay, pines with needles like spindly old hands, maples with hollows like watchful eyes – all things Lonan had taught me to observe.

CHAPTER: GHOSTS

Then there was the sea – violent and knowing as it romped within bays and alcoves. She had eaten me many times before, both my father and Lonan too. Gulped them as if they were shining plastic wrappings left behind after a meal. I spited her for inviting me once again. I reached up again to grapple with the next rung. It twisted and offered a low whistle.

In these two chapters, Ray is on a photography trip with her class. This is the first time she’s been on this annual trip without Lonan. She left that morning with a goal of being independent and learning to get on with one of the only people she has felt close to. I realize now that the Ghost excerpt sort of sounds like her dad and Lonan have drowned?? Which was not my intention??

CHAPTER: A DIVINE INTERVENTION

“Do you believe in ghosts?” A raspy voice teased from behind me. Cigarette smoke tickled the words, like they were stuck together with jelly inside of her. The question wasn’t particularly calming, but it strengthened my grip on reality. As if the foiled leaves, bark, and dandelions had sprung from the ground and begun to float, they came crashing back down.

I was made of stone.

“I’m not a ghost,” Jude said. “If I was, a ladder would be a pretty counteractive way to outrun me. I could just float up there and haunt you.”

“Maybe you’re a ghost,” she asked, her voice distant.

I shifted my grasp up and down the sides of the ladder. “What?”

“Don’t you believe in ghosts?”

I was reading back some of Ray and Jude’s conversation and there are so many snippets of dialogue that make me laugh because I totally forgot I wrote them... but UGhhH I don’t know if I want to share them because I don’t know whether or not I want to try and publish the story someday. Speaking of that, it’s sort of because it’s so personal to me? I don’t know (this is for future me to pursue) Honestly though, reading these back has made me really happy :)

I wanted to shake her by the shoulders. She acted as though Point Blink could breathe – as though corpses in the cemetery might pull the grass away like dead skin, neighbors would draw blades, and blood-salt would stain her clothes rather than that from the sea. “Trust me, they’ll forgive you. But, I’m just saying, most people around here don’t care nearly as much as you think so. Most of them are way older anyways, so they’re tired of us.”

“Is that you complimenting yourself?” Jude asked.

“Not intentionally,” I said, “but I will take it.”

She laughed. “You shouldn’t be so nice to strangers.”

I wasn’t trying to be. I just didn’t think I wanted her to dislike me.

“I don’t think it’s a bad thing or a good thing,” Jude said. “Being good gets you tucked into a thousand different memories. Being good makes you live a lifetime.”

I almost laughed, but then I wondered what I was to her now. “I don’t talk to lots of people.”

“Sometimes there aren’t many people to talk to. But I thought you would have loads of friends.”

I wasn’t sure what to say to that. “I thought you would too.”

Alarm like grief lit her eyes, but she laughed. I did too.

“You hardly know me,” she said quietly.

Then the girls explore some old newspapers and letters in a fire tower! Spooky fun!

CHAPTER: YOU LET THIS HAPPEN

This isn’t a major spoiler as it’s literally in the blurb I wrote, but Ray and Jude are caught (targeted..??) in a fire. Ray is brought back to a field where she is questioned.

CHAPTER: NOTHING HAPPENS

He was quiet for several moments while he painted a picture with what little details I had given him, then said, “It’s unfair. I think that’s why it hurts.”

“Because we almost got hurt?”

“No. Because it came true.”

His gentle, ragged voice made me think I could tell him anything. Sometimes, I think that, even then, he knew I left something out.

Ray talks to Lonan after the fire... She’s being a bit dishonest about what actually happened.

CHAPTER: WHY NOT

I remember how the barest amount of red light glared across Lonan’s entire scalp and washed his boyish curls magenta from the roots out. When Jude leaned back on the counter, she melded into the darkness.

This chapter is just part of the narrative that I created with Ray and Lonan’s friendship. There isn’t much I want to spoil from it, but I liked this paragraph!

CHAPTER: INEVITABLE

“We didn’t do anything,” I said.

“Someone did. Why won’t you believe me?”

“I think I would remember whether or not someone was there with us,” I said, “even if we didn’t have the picture.”

This was untrue. I hung lots of photos in my room. A long time would pass before I went to a restaurant again, or a specific coven on one of the beaches, or an outfit that I wore, and I would look into one of my pictures and remember it, and then I would be quite angry with myself that I had almost forgotten that thing forever.

“I don’t think you understand what I mean,” Jude said. I didn’t like the way she’d lowered her voice. She sounded different every time I saw her. She reached out her arm so our photos were side by side and our fingers were almost touching. “I don’t think you want to.”

Ray finds herself alone in the school’s dark room with Jude. Based on the contents of one of her photos, she tries to convince Ray that there is more to the fire than what meets the eye.

CHAPTER: (this one is untitled)

I didn’t mind that he followed me everywhere. Even when he was quiet, I didn’t find it strange to be around him. We sat silently through films and went on walks. Once, he had fallen asleep while watching The Iron Giant in my bed. I didn’t know if I should wake him up once it ended. I tried not to stare at him. He’d rolled onto his side and bundled himself in one of my blankets covered in stars up to his shoulders so only his small face poked out like a baby owl’s. His soft breath messed his dirty gold coils. They were at their longest. Except for the ebbing light from a candle on my desk, my house was asleep – Lonan needed to go home.

For the first time, I wondered if anyone cared where he was.

Another small part of the little friendship narrative! (This really is the part of the story where I get nostalgic for my childhood, isn’t it) Ray starts to discover more about Lonan’s home life in this part of the story, but there’s not much that I think I want to reveal about that for now.

CHAPTER: THE CRUX OF IT

Why did I feel so paranoid? I found myself staring out the window, into the film of blue that the late sun shown onto the grass and trying to remember what summer felt like.

My main problem was that I didn’t know how to talk to Jude unless it was about Sugarfell. I ran from the hush of cigarette smoke behind closing doors and heard her loud voice in conversations. Even though there might have still been a part of me that wanted to be friends with her, I didn’t have much to base that feeling off of. I could have spent hours clicking the little pieces of her that I had together, but the crux of it was that I would never know Jude unless I forced myself to.

For some reason, that really scared me.

I spent all week trying to think of what to say to her. By Friday afternoon, I still had nothing.

I left off writing with Ray actively avoiding Jude’s little investigation into the arsonist. Ray doesn’t want to be involved in this because she feels that it will throw her sense of normalcy off course. She really just wants to learn how to adapt to a life without her best friend. (It doesn’t help that she’s got fresh trauma)

What will Ray decide? I don’t know. We shall see. (just kidding I know)

Sorry this update was longer! I think I would like to start updating more often than once a month just because they would be shorter and those of you reading this won’t forget what happened in the last update. There are thousands and thousands of words that didn’t show up in this update because - like I said - I don’t know whether I want to publish this story ever?? I’ll probably talk more about this in a separate update.

Thank you so much to those of you who read about my story! I hope you enjoy it!

p.s. btw I now have a myWriteClub account! You can check it out here and stalk me as I tragically fail my writing goals!

#ffs writing this update was like throwing a boulder into a lake #there was so much I wanted to share #it's really difficult to decide what to share as sometimes a paragraph that I'm really proud of will be really spoilery #I can only imagine this will be more and more difficult as I get further into the story #ANYWAYS #I feel like I'm really beginning to see who my characters are <3 #I feel like a proud mother #To be honest #I kind of hated Jude in the beginning #but now I feel like Ray hates her too so that makes me like her #haha im so mean #tune in next time for a Sapphic spy date

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whyiask · 3 years

Text

when you finally let go (and you slay that solo) CH. 1

Note: just to clarify, they're all like, 8th grade-high school aged. like, 14-17 or so(except Phil). OKAY SORRY FOR NOT POSTING ON ANY OF MY OTHER WORKS but I've been in a bit of a writing slump, and this AU forcibly pulled me out of it, so here you are. Ao3 Link Masterpost

Philza Minecraft considered himself to be a pretty chill guy, all things considered. Managing a dance studio shouldn’t be such a hard job, but Phil was pretty sure no other studio could even compare to the chaos that the students of Dance Revolution got up to. He was numb to most of their bullshit by now.

So when Wilbur came up to his office after practice one day and knocked on his window with a scheming grin, Phil sighed and waved him in, already expecting the worst.

“Philza,” Wilbur proclaimed, stupidly dramatic. Phil waited a second, but Wilbur didn’t make any move to continue, staying draped across the door frame. He held a large, completely full binder. Phil eyed it warily.

“Yes, mate?”

Wilbur clearly took this as his cue to stride into the room, using his wrist to flick the wheeled chair that sat, unassuming, in front of him. It spun around and he plopped into it gracefully, letting it spin back to the front before stopping himself with the desk. Phil had to begrudgingly admit it looked cool.

“What, you been practicing that chair thing?” he asked, knowing full well that Wilbur had definitely practiced his dramatic entrance.

Wilbur met his eyes, knowing the same thing. “No,” he said.

Phil wheezed out a laugh.

Wilbur scowled good-naturedly, before pulling a miniature gong out of his pocket and hitting it with an equally sized-down mallet. It made a small bong and Phil looked at him, confusion alight in his eyes.

“Wh-”

“Phil, I need to ask you something. A favor, if you will.”

Immediately Phil’s guard shot up. “Whatever it is, the answer is probably no.”

“I would like to start a country. A brand new nation. A place where we can be free and independent from the stifling rules that are holding us back from out potential. We can be free, Phil,” Wilbur looked directly into Phil’s eyes, determined and completely serious.

“What are you literally on right now?” Phil questioned, mildly concerned and altogether flabbergasted.

“We can be free,” he repeated.

Fundy had been walking past the open door, when he stopped and looked in, rolling his eyes fondly.

“Is he talking to you about wanting a student-run competition team finally? He’s been ranting about wanting it for ages now.”

Wilbur scowled again, dropping his dramatics and flipping Fundy off. Fundy cackled, before continuing down the hallway.

“He stole my fucking thunder,” Wilbur muttered angrily, most likely already forming some sort of revenge plan that involved mass amounts of property damage. Phil tried hard not to crack up in order to preserve Wilbur’s delicate feelings.

Phil considered what Fundy had said. “So what would this team involve?”

Wilbur perked up and flashed a grin Phil’s way, before picking up his 4-inch binder and pushing it across the desk for Phil to read.

Phil stared down with incredulous eyes. “Is this all-”

Wilbur nodded sagely. “All of it. Meeting plans and dates, organization information, how it would run, the logistics, accountability system, emergency procedures, funds, leadership, everything. My L’manburg is ready to be born, just as soon as you sign the form at the very bottom of the binder. I’ve got it all handled.”

“Mate…”

Phil opened the binder cautiously, seeing a table of contents. He flipped through a few sections, skimming over the words. Everything was incredibly organized and clear.

He closed the binder and met Wilbur’s expectant gaze.

“Well?” he prompted. “What do you think?”

“How much time have you spent on this?” Phil asked, equal parts terrified and in awe.

Wilbur dismissed the question with a haughty wave of his hand. I’ve had the idea for about a month now. I started typing it all out last week.”

“Last week ?”

“Yep,” he said, popping the P.

Phil stared hard at him. “Okay, I’ll sign it," he said, already filling with regrets. But even if he had said no, he was certain Wilbur would've found some other way to start it. He was stubborn like that.

Wilbur’s face lit up like a beacon.

“As long as you promise it won’t cause another arson incident or wild animal in our hallways. Or get the studio any type of lawsuit."

Wilbur gave a mock salute. "Don't worry, it shouldn't cause too much chaos. I'll try to tone it down a bit, just for your peace of mind."

The smirk on Wilbur's face said otherwise.

Phil sighed heavily, gazing at the binder in resignation. There was no way it was going to go smoothly. Might as well sit back and enjoy the show. Wilbur would undoubtedly put on a good one.

---

Tommy had been in the private practice room for a little over an hour when Wilbur came by. He was running through the group jazz routine, as he had missed a practice due to his altercation with Dream and the discs. His precious music discs. He glanced fondly towards his backpack where they were safely tucked away. He refused to let them out of his sight anymore.

Turning back to the work at hand, he rewound a little bit and started the music. Focusing intently, he ran through the first half smoothly, only stopping when he fell out of his triple pirouette.

Without the music to accompany him, he did the last eight count again, almost completing his turn but wobbling sideways. He scowled, getting in position to try again, when a clap startled him out of his practice.

Wilbur Soot was leaning against the doorframe. Wilbur freaking Soot. Not to be a fanboy, but Wilbur was probably one of the best dancers in the whole of Dance Revolution and Tommy was silently panicking.

"What do you want, bitch?" Tommy called over to him. Wilbur smiled, tucking his hands in his pockets and walking over to meet Tommy in the center of the room, a unidentifiable gleam in his eyes.

"Try relaxing your shoulders a bit. They're a bit tense and probably throwing off your balance. Also be sure to tuck your foot in all the way, you want your knee straight forward and right now it's slightly at an angle."

Tommy immediately went to apply the corrections. He was being assisted by Wilbur Soot, who was he to deny the man?

Tommy didn't quite land the turn correctly, but Wilbur smiled at him all the same.

"That was much better," he praised. Tommy beamed.

"That's very impressive, good job. You're like, nine or something, right? It's very good technique and form for someone of your age."

Tommy blinked once. Twice.

"You bastard , I'm way older than that, so incredibly old, older than you, probably," he fumed.

Wilbur laughed, patting his hair. Tommy smacked his hand away.

"Suddenly all respect I had for you is gone," he announced.

"It was only a matter of time, child," Wilbur said through his grin.

Tommy faltered for a second. "Now that's rather depressing, innit?"

"You'll do perfectly," Wilbur said.

"What?"

"I heard the stories about you, of course, who hasn't? And you have real potential."

Tommy swallowed down an insult. Of course people were still talking about the Disc War. It came as no surprise. Everyone in the whole studio was chaotic and slightly insane, but the Disc War really had been something else.

"Tommyinnit, I want you to be my right hand man."

"....what?"

Tommy stared at Wilbur, hard. Wilbur stared back, a fondness alight in his eyes.

"I want you to be my right hand man, Tommy, because I know that together, we can lead our nation into victory."

"Fuck yeah," Tommy cheered, having absolutely no idea what he had agreed to.

"That's the spirit!" Wilbur shouted, matching Tommy's volume.

"Now, Tommy-"

Fundy stopped in the open doorway. "Wilbur, you dickhead. You're disrupting the class next door with how loud you're being. Also, hi Tommy."

Tommy waved. He had met the ginger a few times before but they weren't extremely close.

Horror filled Fundy's eyes. "Wait- what-" he asked, looking slightly constipated, "are you doing to Tommy, Wil?"

"Leave us be, my son, no one wants you here. Tommyinnit and I have important business to discuss." Wilbur sniffed in fake disdain.

'My son' ? Tommy mouthed.

Fundy grimaced. "Don't ask," he muttered back.

Fundy's eyes flicked between Wilbur and Tommy, before realization dawned in his eyes. "Oh god, you're inviting him to L'manburg, aren't you."

"L'manburg?" Tommy asked. He quickly did a mental run through to see if he remembered the name from anything, but drew a blank.

"It's our nation, Tommy," Wilbur said, at the same time Fundy replied with,

"It's a student-led dance group that Wilbur finally got permission for."

"Goddamnit, Fundy. Disowned."

Wilbur made to walk out of the room, before turning back and whipping out a pamphlet from his pocket. He handed it to Tommy with a serious nod and a salute, before whisking away, flicking Fundy in the back of the head as he passed.

"You should probably get back to class, big man," Tommy suggested.

Fundy stopped scowling at where Wilbur had disappeared to and gave Tommy an awkward pair of finger guns.

"You're right, see you later, Tommy! Have a good practice."

Tommy waved as the older student left the room, wondering what in the name of Church Prime he had gotten himself into.

---

“-don’t know, he just came up to me and was like ‘oh Tommy you are the biggest man alive and you’re so cool that I want you on my new dance team,’ and I just don’t know what to do!”

Tommy ran a hand through his hair, pacing the room. Tubbo stared at him in confusion.

“Isn’t that..a little dramatic?” He asked, perplexed and choosing to ignore the fact that that was definitely not what Wilbur had said.

Tommy spluttered. “Dramatic? What do you mean ? Wilbur Fucking Soot literally asked me to dance in his special group.”

Tubbo shrugged, turning back to his sketchpad and picking up a new pencil. “Tommy,” he said, letting his amusement color his tone, “It’s just Wilbur. It’s not that big of a deal.”

He could practically hear the scowl in Tommy’s voice. “That’s just because you know Wilbur Soot.”

And it was true. Tubbo had to join a duo with Wilbur last year when his original partner had fallen down with the flu the week before performance. It had been the most stressful week of his life, understandably, as he had to learn and perfect the full routine before the competition day. Wilbur was a good partner, thankfully, and had helped him a lot. Afterwards, Wilbur had made an effort to talk to him more and really thank him for filling in, and they had become semi-friends.

Tubbo snorted. “Once you get talking with him, you’re realize he’s just a huge nerd.”

Tommy continued to stress for a few more minutes while Tubbo hummed to himself, quietly coloring. Until Tommy let out a gleeful gasp and Tubbo looked up in anticipation.

“You could come with me!”

Tubbo squinted at him. “What?”

“Come to L’manburg with me.”

Tubbo looked at his best friend incredulously, raised his eyebrows and went back to his sketchbook.

“Isn’t it a private invite though?”

Tommy waved off his concerns with a dismissive hand. “Not important. Besides, I’m sure he’d love to see you.”

Tubbo genuinely considered it for a moment. He could always leave if Wilbur wanted him to, and it would be nice to see his older friends again. He hadn’t had much chance to hang out with them in a while, and at the very least, he could be their music guy.

Yeah, he thought to himself. Nothing could go wrong with this.

“You know what, Tommy? Maybe I will come. Maybe I will.”

---

Dream was fuming. Through all of his usual strength to calm himself down, something about the entire situation grated on his nerves like nothing else before. Maybe it was the fact that Tommy was a literal child. Maybe it was the fact that the said child had publicly humiliated him. There’s something scalding about losing, something hot like acid under your skin.

Dream was no stranger to losing. He had been in competitive dance for years, he had his fair share of losses. But he had been humiliated and he and his friends had sworn revenge, half-jokingly, half-seriously. Although none of them had been serious about committing actual crimes, they had all mutually sworn to get back at Dance Revolution for making the SMP Studios look bad.

And then their revenge plan had failed.

Maybe that was it then, not the fact that he lost to Tommy, but more the fact that they had been bested twice. Dream didn’t like to lose.

With no place to properly vent his frustrations with the child, he turned and punched Sapnap in the arm.

“Ow, dude, what the hell?” Sapnap sent Dream a betrayed look, rubbing at his arm. The overdramatic bitch.

“Dream, are you still mad about the whole Tommy incident?” George asked, light teasing in his voice.

He considered lying, but remembered that George had an uncanny ability to see straight through his bullshit.

“Why do you always have to be right?” Dream complained. “It’s like you can read minds or something.”

“Literally!” Sapnap nodded vigorously. “How do you do it?”

“It’s because I’m colorblind,” George said simply.

There was a full moment of silence before Dream let out a wheeze at an unholy pitch.

The conversation moved on, it always did. It wasn’t too long before they were back where they started.

“We’ll get our revenge eventually, yeah?” George nudged Dream’s shoulder comfortingly.

“We will!” Sapnap cheered, like the maniac he is. “Do you think he has any pets? We could kidnap them or something.”

Dream gazed long and hard at Sapnap until he cut off his rambling. He knew George was doing the same thing.

“What?” He asked, crossing his arms defensively.

“Sapnap, you have issues, clearly,” George said.

As their mindless bickering started up again, Dream found his mind wandering. They would clap back at Dance Revolution, they would . They had to. Dream wasn’t sure if his pride could take it if they failed again. Either way, this was war . It was time to fight.

#dream smp #dream smp au #dance au #crack fic #dsmp au #wilbur soot #tommyinnit #fundy #philza minecraft #sapnap #georgenotfound #dreamwastaken #tubbo underscore #seriously this is pure crack #and also all of the rivalrys are friendly rivalrys #they don't actually hate each other #well maybe a little bit but it's not like. a serious rivalry.

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cadykeus-clay · 4 years

Note

Would you mind sharing your thoughts about vex and Beau being cross campaign foils?

so!!!! first things first: apologies for taking weeks to answer this, finals + having adhd sometimes makes my brain turn to mush and forget every ask ive ever recieved. second of all, i’m assuming you sent me this bc of what i said in my vm vs. m9 how they view the world meta. and i’ll be real with you. i have exactly 0 memory of what was going through my head when i wrote that line, so i am simply going to type out a bunch of thoughts that i have on the similarities and differences between beau and vex and i hope that lives up to what you were expecting jsdflksjdksld

I'll detail some specifics in a moment, but overall, I think beau and vex share a very similar kind of trauma of exclusion in their formative years, that's caused them to have a lot of similar traits that manifest in different ways - for vex, she maintains control through her material posessions and beau finds an emotional control in her asshole-ness. I've broken this down into 5 points on which I think comparing the two really emphasizes that claim:

1. daddy issues: both beau and vex have awful no good terrible very bad dads. both syldor and thoreau can suck my ass. they both raised their kids with little love and impossible-to-meet expectations, alientating them and leaving them with lifelong feelings of inferiority and unbelonging. If beau and vex were to meet, i think they would have a very friendly toast to shitty dads, and then have a good drunk vent about it an hour later.

but, at the same time, the actual minutae of their trauma and the ways it manifests are nearly polar opposites. syldor wanted nothing to do with vex, or else wanted her to somehow become a full elf. her issue was that she would never be able to belong, despite her desire to, and as she grew up it lead to her being overly protective and even possessive of the people she found who DID accept her as she was.

With beau, rather than exclusion, her father created an environment of toxic inclusion. He created a role for beau to belong in, disregarding her distate for actually fulfilling it. And, as such, she ended up making herself into someone who could have no expectations and pushed away anyone who tried to set them up for her. In the end, they both came to love themselves by abandoning the woman their father wanted them to be but for vex it was the laying down of an impossible dream and for beau it was the picking up of a mantle she had feared to wear.

2. brothers: now, on the topic of family, I also think its really interesting how their interactions with their brothers play out. We've got vex and vax, tied at the hip til the very end and then some; and then we've got beau and TJ - decades apart and with beau barely acknolwedging TJ's existence. But, even that distance between beau and TJ didn't stop her caring for him when they actually met. She gave him lucky Jade, and she entertained the idea of kidnapping him to get him away from her stinko dad.

And I'd espeically like to talk about what she said outside the hag's hut - "I think Luc and TJ could be best friends", in comparison to the way Vex reacted when Vax told her was going to Zephrah with Keyleth for the year break. There's an aspect to the way they interact with their brothers that lets them slip back into those bad habits they formed growing up (NOT that i'm claiming vex and vax were like toxic for each other. but even good relationships can have unhealthy moments).

With Beau, when she offers to give her happiness so TJ can grow up safe, she's trying to take on the role she's ""supposed"" to fill - the big sister, the protector - because she failed to fill the one her father set out. And with Vex, when she grows jealous of Vax, it's because she's afraid that his leaving with keyleth is a sign that she no longer belongs in his inner circle, and she falls back on that childish, desperate desire to do anything to be accepted unconditionally.

3. romance: spoilers for 5 or so most recent m9 eps (115-120) if you haven't watched them ahead!!!! at this point, both vex and beau have an endgame romance - percy and yasha respectively. Obviously as the m9's campaign is still playing out, that could change, but like. yasha wrote her a love letter and they're officially going on a date so i'm counting that as at least endgame-track rather than just random flirting. What's interesting to me is that they both seem to flip between the SAME roles between their (in-game) general perception and their actual pursual of romance.

Vex gets characterized as a pretty big flirt, right? She's got the winks, the casual "darling". She's flashed grog her boobs on multiple instances with little prompting. Beau, similarly, has easily the most game out of anyone in the m9. She's slept with two guest characters and at least one more npc in the events of the game. Caleb made her a fuck mirror in her room in the mansion. And yet, in both of their actual romantic endeavors, they became the shy, uncertain type.

Vex only confessed her feelings when Percy was laying dead before her, and not an hour of game play before percy kissed her in the woods, she had a talk with vax about how she was pretty sure he didn't like her that way and she didn't want to pursue it. Beau, similarly, spent a very long time convinced that yasha wasn't looking for love after zuala, especially not in anyone like her, asked everyone in the party if they thought yasha ACTUALLY liked her, just to be safe, and then still terrified to ask her out after recieving a literal love letter. I'd argue this shift comes from that same sense of unbelonging - they're very good at pretending they fit a role but doubt their actual right to take it when the opportunity is presented. This time, the role is the lover rather than the daughter.

4. authority: Both vex and beau grew up shunned by the upper crust of society, and grew to mistrust those kinds of people. And yet, both of their arcs result in them assuming such a position. Vex, thrown out of high society gets her place as a baronness, and Beau, running from leadership of her father's business ends up a top member of the Cobalt Soul. There's not a lot here, but I find it interesting how both of their stories involve them shedding their baggage regarding authority and power and assuming it in a way that they feel comfortable in - invitation by someone she trusts for vex, and a promise of freedom of will and control for beau.

5. their deadliest sins: this is the point at which their similarities culminate and transform to a fundamental difference. despite everything they share - shitty childhoods, the small piece of family that's still good, flirtiness masking shy love, and a mistrust of those in power - vex and beau are such different characters because of their biggest vices. Vex, both in game and out, is "the greedy one". She's stingy with money, she haggles for everything, she mourns the loss of physical objects. Beau is "the mean one". She cares little for people's feelings if they're not in her immediate circle, she focuses on her tough guy image, she laughs at things she knows she shouldn't.

And, over the course of the campaign, as they find unconditional acceptance, they grow away from these traits (I won't say they grow out of them) because they heal from the things causing these vices to begin with. I've always been vocal about vex's greed being a manifestation of her class insecurity, and beau's asshole-ness stemming from her fear of being forced back into another position of complacency. And I stand by that now - all the similarities in their backstories are what tally up to these different women.

Despite her careful tally of party funds and her reflexive bargaining, vex is not cruel. she is not angry on her own behalf. She saves two boys from the market in the city of brass at great personal cost, she relinquishes an entire dragon's hoard to the devastated city of Westruun, she took the time to save a baby bear from a cage when she could have just cut and run after escaping her own. She's the first one most people go to when they need a shoulder to cry on, and she's devastated when they don't (thinkin about when Scanlan left). She carved "forgiveness" into the bow she stole from a man after killing him by proclaiming how much she loved someone, because she knew anger had no place in her heart.

And Beau, Beau is a bitch and she's harsh, but she doesn't hoard or protect like vex did. she spends her money without much of a second thought. She pitches in to help her friends buy a ton of glowsticks, and she loves to indulge in material desires like drink and good food and the nicer inn room. She's a member of an organization that's about making knowledge public rather than guarding it. And, though this may be controversial, I think her position with bowlgate of "its not our problem what cali wants to do with it", her long-standing mistrust of their alliance with the bright queen and and more recently with the tomb takers of "i want to go in and talk, rather than assuming they're antagonistic, even if it puts us at a disadvantage" are both examples of this non-possessiveness too - she has no need or desire to get involved in controlling what other people are doing.

so, i guess the general conclusion here is: vex struggles to let go of things, of money, of people. beau struggles to let herself be known in case she gets wrongly interpreted again. they both fight feelings of inadequacy, they both fight the feelings of not belonging, of 'doing it wrong', they fight the perception of them as shitty people because of the shells they hide in despite their absolute hearts of gold. but at the end of the day, vex's story is one of having to lay down what could never be hers so she can carry what is, and beau's story is one of allowing herself to be known so a place can be made for her.

#hope this is what you and that other anon were looking for jdsflkdsajfsaldfsa #critical role #vexahlia #beauregard #long post

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katattacktime · 4 years

Text

Self Care (Asmo x GN!Reader)

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NSFW, V Soft, making love

4,400 ish words

I haven’t written in like 8 years and this was written all at once until like 4 in the morning because Asmo Simping Hours

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It had been a long, long week at RAD. You arrived back at the House of Lamentation and trudged through the entrance hall to your room. Every step weighed heavier as the exhaustion set into your bones. You took your bag and unceremoniously dumped it on the table in your room, a heavy thunk from overstuffed tomes and clinking of writing utensils rolling against each other. You let out a deep sigh, shuffled over to your bed, and flopped face down, letting out a groan as your shoulders relaxed at the promise of the weekend to look forward to.

You pulled your DDD out of your pocket and scrolled through your notifications. Group chats with new messages, a missed text from Satan asking if you’d seen the book he’d started last night followed by a “Never mind. Found it.” less than a minute after. A few notifications from the popular Devildom social media sites. Devilgram in particular seemed to be booming tonight; demons ramping up for a Friday night of parties and drinking to celebrate the well-earned break.

A soft knock sounded at your door. You sat up and jerked your head away from your phone toward the intruder.

Asmodeus leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed, eyes raking up and down taking in your appearance.

“You,” he said pointedly, “look like you could use a self-care night.”

You could feel your cheeks get warm at his assessment. “Is it really that bad?”

Asmo chuckled good-naturedly.

“No, dear. I promise. I would never let you walk around like that without telling you, no, but, I did see you walk in here like a zombie and heard you toss everything related to school as far away from you as possible.” He grinned.

You groaned. “It wouldn’t be so bad if I wasn’t starting from nothing with magic and knowledge of the three realms in general,” you pouted.

“Well, what do you say you and I go relax in my room? It takes work to stay this pretty for my admirers and I’ve got a new bath bomb I’ve been dying to try out. Company as pretty as me will make it that much more enjoyable,” he flirted.

“Hmmmm. I dunno—“ you drawled. You flashed a smile at him and coyly pretended to consider your options. “In all seriousness though, how would we do that without being disturbed? I love you and your brothers dearly, but you all have a habit of causing problems for each other at the worst moments.” You grimaced at the thoughts of all the quiet moments you’d had with each of them that had been suddenly ruined by an ill-timed appearance of someone else.

Asmo smiled, “I have good news for you then. It’s just you and me home tonight.”

“What? Really? Where did everyone else go?”

“Lucifer got called to some meeting at the castle. Apparently they forgot something while at the council meeting earlier,” he counted on his fingers for each brother he named, “One of Mammon’s witches called him for something last minute. Satan is holing himself up at the library with Solomon until really late tonight. Supposedly, they found something or other in a manuscript that could ‘change the concept of curses as we know it.” He rolled his eyes and continued. “The twins are at Hell’s Kitchen with Levi. Levi lost a bet with Belphie, and now he’s paying the price, literally.” He grinned and held up six fingers to you. “So that just leaves you and me! And I was in charge of dinner tonight anyways, so this works out in my favor too that no one is here,” he stated.

You chuckled. “I am always impressed with how up-to-date with everything you seem to be,” you complimented. “I would love to have a self-care night with you tonight, Asmo.”

Asmo smiled broadly and you could swear a blush dusted his face before he turned to lead you into the kitchen situated next to your room.

“I figure we might as well order in tonight, my treat, since it’s just us two. No point in messing up the kitchen, and we can get started that much sooner.” He grabbed a few menus from under a magnet on the side of the fridge and spread them out on the butcher block island in the center.

“What are you hungry for? I was thinking we get something from that little restaurant across the street from Madame Scream’s and follow up with some dessert from Madame Scream’s too. Maybe some bufo egg tea to sip on while we’re at it?”

You looked down at the menus spread out before you and considered for a moment. “Sounds good to me!”

Asmo pulled out his phone and called both places to make your orders while you gathered up the menus and set them back under the magnet on the side of the fridge. You piped in here and there as needed, but soon enough, your food was ordered, on its way, and at the front door ready for you. You helped Asmo bring it in, while he made small talk with the delivery guys and shut the door.

He grabbed some of the bags from you and gestured for you to lead the way.

“After you,” he said politely.

You smiled at him and you two sauntered into the dining room to eat together. Asmo, being ever attentive, made sure to ask about your week and if there was anything he could help with, complained about the work load at RAD, and gossiped about who was throwing parties and who wasn’t.

When you asked why he wasn’t out and about, he waved his hand in dismissal stating that even he needed a night off every now and then. He grabbed a cupcake out of the box of sweets you’d ordered from Madame Scream’s.

“If I went out and partied every night, my skin would never forgive me. That and sometimes I get tired of being in big crowds too. I have my parties that I host a couple of nights a month anyways, so I can’t let everyone be oversaturated by my presence. Then I become boring, and that just wouldn’t be fair to my admirers,” he explained.

You hummed in acknowledgment and swallowed the last bite of the sweet you’d ordered. “Well, I’m glad you’re here with me. I don’t know what I would have done if I’d been suddenly alone.”

Asmo smiled at you and the both of you stood up to clear the table.

You thought about what your night might have turned out to be had he gone out instead of staying in. You’d completed your homework earlier before you got home. You could have watched a movie, scrolled on your DDD endlessly, maybe dressed yourself up just because you could. Your face heated when you realized that if no one had been home you could have spent hours unwinding in another, more carnal way with yourself without worrying if someone would interrupt. It had been a while.

If Asmo noticed the blush on your cheeks, he didn’t say anything, instead opting to usher you by your room for pajamas and through his room to the bathroom for your joint pampering session. He snapped his fingers and lit the candles in the room to create a dim, calming atmosphere.

“So,” he began, “I’m going to gather everything together in one place and pick some things out for you. It’ll take me a bit because I want to make sure everything I pick will suit your skin well, and I have to fill the bath and figure out where I put that bath bomb. We’re not going to do anything tonight that you don’t want to do, so if you really just can’t stand the texture or smell of something let me know, we can skip it or I can find a substitute.” He pointed a look over to a countertop filled with organized bottles and containers. “I have plenty to choose from.”

He turned and walked to the glass-paned french doors that lead into his closet, opening them and disappearing inside the mood lit room for a moment. He returned with two soft, silky, cream robes and matching slippers.

“I need you to hop your lovely self into the shower and get clean. I need a clean canvas to work with so that everything will soak in better.”

He shot a flirtatious look at you. “I would join you but I’m afraid we wouldn’t get anywhere with our pampering night unless you wanted me to pamper you another way.”

“Maybe once my muscles don’t feel like knots,” you acquiesced and blushed at the innuendo.

Asmo grinned and exchanged the pajamas from your arms for a robe and slippers and pointed you over to the walk-in shower behind him. A half wall with a glass partition and glass door separated it from the rest of the bathroom.

“Everything you need should be in there. There’s even a fresh razor should you want to shave anything and I just changed out the washcloths last night, so everything is new. There’s a sugar scrub on the shelf in the wall and a bunch of other things you can feel free to test.”

The shower itself was easily as spacious as his bath. Smooth, unbroken, white marble formed the walls with a tiled ceiling. Plenty of room for several people to enjoy the steamy water and relax. A tiled bench stood prominently in the center of the shower room (as you were now calling it) for resting under the stream of the rainfall shower positioned above it. Towels sat rolled neatly on a shelf by the entrance.

You placed the robe and slippers onto the shelf and stripped down. You neatly folded your uniform and placed it aside, unsure what to do with it otherwise.

You turned and made your way deeper into the room to the knobs on the wall, fiddling with them to figure out what turned on where when you messed with them. You found a hot, soothing temperature you could bear and stood under the stream, melting away the knots in your shoulders and back.

Curiosity overtook you and you took your time to explore his products as you relaxed. A couple you even decided to pamper yourself with since he so graciously offered. You cleaned yourself as you normally did when you weren’t rushed for time and shut off the valves when you finished, toweling dry.

You peered through the glass partition over the half wall into the rest of the bathroom. Asmo, dressed in his cream robe and slippers, had poised on the rim of his tub while you showered. He watched the water fill the bath and swirl the bath bombs and flower petals he had dropped in. You shrugged on the robe, tying it loosely in front of you, and placed your feet in the slippers before opening the glass door leading out.

Asmo glanced up at you and raked his gaze across your frame. Soft music played from a speaker he’d set up.

“As beautiful as ever,” he commented appreciatively. He shut off the water and removed himself from the side of the bath. He grabbed a tray of items he’d gathered.

“Feel free to go through these and remove anything you don’t like. The bath is ready, and I’ll join you as soon as I’m done showering.” He strutted toward the shower, but you grabbed his arm before he passed.

“Thank you, Asmo. Really.” You leaned toward him and pressed a chaste kiss on the cheek of the Avatar of Lust. “This all really means a lot to me.”

Asmo looked down at you in surprise, a deep, coral blush painted across his face. He lifted his hand to where you’d kissed his cheek and looked away.

“Y-you’re welcome. Of course I’d do something as simple as this,” he gestured to the room around him, “People as beautiful as us have to make sure we stay that way, right?”

“Of course,” you smiled at him softly and walked away from him toward the tray to go through the items he selected.

Asmo stood there for a second longer than he intended, watching you languidly make your way through his bathroom, completely relaxed around him. His heart swelled as he watched you take an interest in the things he’d spent so much time curating with you in mind. He turned toward the shower before he couldn’t bear to be away from your side any longer, determined to continue with the night on your terms when you were ready.

You untied the robe and gently set it on the side of the tub, sitting beside the silky, folded fabric and kicking off the slippers next to the tub. You swung your legs over the edge and lowered yourself into the warm, cloudy light pink water. Specks of gold glitter rolled around your legs as you disturbed the bath, yellow petals swirling gently on top. The scent of chamomile, honey, and almond milk wafted up as you sunk in.

You settled yourself onto the bench encircling the bath and stretched your arms high above your head, before resting them on the edge behind you, enjoying the contrast between the warm bath and cool, smooth tile. You closed your eyes and laid your head back against a pillar and dozed.

Asmo emerged from the shower, his robe draped over his shoulders and towel wrapped around his hips. He walked to the bath across from where you’d situated. Your eyes opened slightly to acknowledge him, and you smiled sweetly at him before patting the top of the water to invite him in with you.

He peeled off the robe, dropped the towel to the floor, and stepped over the side of the tub, humming contentedly as the water rose above his hips up to his waist and chest. The water swirled around him as he waded to the tray of items he’d collected and picked one up: a small blue glass container filled with some sort of face mask.

“I wanted to start us out easy with something simple. This is a mask good for exfoliating and brightening your skin. It’s had a ton of rave reviews and I’ve used it for a while,” he explained.

Asmo scooped some product out with his fingers and warmed it in his palms. He gently smoothed a layer onto your face and settled next to you as you sat up to do the same for him.

You rubbed the mask between your fingertips and swiped long, tender touches over his forehead, nose, and warm cheeks. Asmo leaned into your touch; a soft sigh escaped his lips. He gazed into your eyes as you studied his face, fingers memorizing every plane.

Your fingers dipped back below the water’s surface to find his hand and hold it between yours, rubbing loving circles over his knuckles. You brought his hand to your lips and kissed it softly before resting your head on his shoulder.

He pressed a kiss into your hair and grabbed your hand back, intertwining your fingers together. You enjoyed each other’s presence and touch. Asmo quietly hummed to whatever song played on his speaker into your hair.

You washed the masks off your faces and continued going through the tray of serums and essences Asmo selected for the both of you, giggling together when you pinched each other’s cheeks or booped his nose. Playfulness came easy with him. All the stress from the week had sloughed off your shoulders thanks to his caring and attentiveness.

When you were done, the water had cooled. Asmo stood and pulled the plug from the drain and stepped out. He grabbed your robe and extended his hand back to you to help you out, throwing your robe over your nakedness as soon as you were safely out.

“What we do from here is up to you,” he stated. He rested his hand on the back of his neck and tried not to stare too much as you adjusted your robe, watching your reaction as he put on his own robe and deftly tried to cover his growing problem. “We can get in pajamas and watch something together or, if you want to do something else, we could do that instead.”

You thought for a moment. The bath ended almost too soon for your liking. You still wanted to be held and enjoy his company, not to mention the warmth that had pooled in your belly from being so innocently intimate and affectionate with him. You looked up at his expectant face, waiting for a response.

“I think I’d like to touch you some more and actually show you how much fun tonight has been for me and how much I appreciate all this.” you answered. “Lotion would be a good place to start.” You blushed and looked away from him. His gaze quickly heated at your suggestion.

“I don’t know if I can keep my hands off of you if you do that,” he warned.

“Good, because I don’t want you to keep your hands off me.”

Asmo leveled his gaze with you and nodded his head. He turned to the countertop to grab a bottle, taking a second to compose himself. As much as he wanted to ravish you this very second and have you moaning his name under him, he wanted even more for you to relax and feel cherished and important.

He pulled away from the counter, bottle acquired, and placed his hand on your lower back, steering you out to his room. You nestled into his shoulder almost self-consciously and grabbed the lotion from him before you could consider otherwise.

“On the bed,” you instructed.

Asmo grinned at you as he followed your command punctuated by a flirtatious comment. “Only if you join me.”

You smiled back, joining him and kneeling on the bed in front of him. The dusty pink sheets of his bed were soft and cool. You could picture yourself spending hours in them.

You looked down at your robes, the only thing interrupting your progress. “We should probably get rid of these for what I have planned,” you commented.

Asmo chuckled and undid the ties holding the fabric closed on both of you, while you popped the cap open on the lotion bottle. You dispensed some into your hand after he’d discarded your robe and held the bottle out to him, waiting for him to hold out his palm for you to give him some as well. Rubbing your hands together awakened the fragrance and warmed the cold substance. It smelled bright and pleasant and soothing, just what you needed.

Starting at each other’s chests, you smoothed the lotion into tense muscle and along collarbones and shoulders. You traveled down arms and sides, being careful of ticklish spots and sore spots alike. You looked down between you at Asmo’s growing member, watching it engorge as you skimmed your fingers over sensitive areas. You moved closer to him, legs spreading to either side of his knees, and wrapped your arms around his neck, trailing light kisses up his chest as you massaged your hands into the top of his shoulders and back.

Asmo pulled you closer to him, hand trailing up your back, watching you in awe as you shivered at his affection and showered him with love. He captured your lips as you pulled away from one of the many kisses you’d peppered against his chest. He cupped the back of your head and angled you so he could kiss you deeper, harder, unsure of how to describe the fluttering and warmth in his chest but determined to show you.

You moaned into his lips and pressed yourself as close as you could, rocking against him, making him hiss in pleasure and ball his fist in your hair. The action sent more electricity to your core. He cupped your ass and helped you grind against him.

He laid you back against the pillows, hands resting on either side of your face and dipped in for another kiss which you enthusiastically returned. He leaned over to his nightstand and opened the drawer, grabbing some items and setting them on the sheets before returning to hover over you.

He pressed his forehead against yours and kissed you deeply once more. Rose gold eyes met with your own and searched for any sign of hesitation. “Should I continue?”

“Yes, more, please,” you breathed.

He kissed you once more on your lips. His hands trailed down your body, appreciating every inch you had allowed him to see. Deft fingers pinched and rolled your nipples as he began kissing a path down your jaw and neck, nipping and kissing particularly at the sensitive spot under your ear. You could feel the light trace of teeth as he sucked marks into your collarbone, soothing them with a press of his tongue. You mewled at every kiss and bite and touch he gave you.

He moved further down and trailed kisses over your tummy until his face hovered above your heat. You felt his breath ghost over you, teasing, causing you to clench and twitch beneath him, watching him carefully in anticipation. His eyes flicked up to you and he grinned at your rapt attention before cheekily sucking you into his mouth in one smooth motion. He held your hips down and watched your face contort in pleasure with every lick, kiss, and hollowing of his cheeks. You threaded your hand through his strawberry blond curls and tensed against him.

“Hah, A-Asmo,” you panted. He hummed against you and you curled your toes. “Asmo please, I’m so close.”

He placed a kiss against you and pulled away.

“Asmo please!” you begged, not caring for how needy you may have just sounded.

“Shhhh shhh,” he hushed you gently, “I promise I’ll take care of you. Be good for me and let me make sure you’re prepared. Yeah?”

He reached up to one of the items he’d grabbed from his nightstand and showed it to you. A small bottle with a clear liquid inside. Lube you guessed. You groaned but nodded nonetheless, anticipation building in your throat in the form of a whine. You wanted to make him feel good too.

Asmo opened the cap and dribbled lube on his fingers, pressing them to your entrance and spreading the slick over you.

He pressed one finger in and then two, slowly opening you up and making sure you were ready to take him. He felt himself dripping precum onto the sheets as he grinned himself into the mattress to relieve some of the ache. You had no idea what your moans alone did to him.

You begged once more. “Asmo, please, I’m definitely ready! I just really need you inside me now. Please! I want to feel you.” You covered your face with your hands, sure you were redder than you had ever been before.

Asmo cursed under his breath. He couldn’t deny you anymore. Not when you said things like that and begged so pretty for him. He grabbed the condom he’d retrieved from his nightstand earlier and rolled it on. He positioned himself back above you, his cock pressing against you as he slowly pressed in. He threw his head back and groaned as your heat enveloped him and clenched around him.

You felt him press inch by inch into you until he bottomed out, fully sheathed inside you, hips pressed up against you. You panted at the feeling of being fully filled by him, letting out a breathy low moan when he experimentally rolled his hips. You felt his hands tug your wrists and palms away from your face.

“Let me see you.”

He laced your fingers together and rested on his elbows above you, kissing you deeply before beginning to thrust with long, slow, deep drags inside you, gazing into your eyes like you were his whole world.

He kissed you tenderly, taking his time, studying your lips with his. He wanted to remember this forever. Your voice, your smell, the way your face contorted in pleasure with every roll of his hips. He couldn’t hold on for long. Not with the way you had openly admitted to wanting to touch him earlier or the way you’d begged just now. It was part of the reason he’d gotten you so close to the edge. He wanted to feel you come undone around him.

Asmo kissed you once more and sat up on his knees, one hand letting go of one of yours in favor of reaching down between you and rubbing you closer to completion. The coil in your belly tightened impossibly further as he pressed faster into you, the sound of skin against skin and him pumping inside you echoing with his and your moans. His thrusts started faltering, his timing off ever so slightly you could tell he was close too. He squeezed your hand once more and looked into your eyes.

“I love you.”

And you came undone.

Your orgasm took over and caused you to arch your back up, hips pressed down against him, legs curling around his torso. He cursed and followed you over, thrusting a few more times before settling deep inside you to ride out his own orgasm, moaning your name like a mantra. He caught himself as he buckled over you, letting the last of it wash over him.

You cupped his face and pulled him down for another kiss. When you separated, you stroked his face and replied, “I love you too.” You kissed his nose once and twice more on his lips for good measure.

He slowly pulled out from you, both groaning at the loss, but you were both tired and sated. He could see sleep slowly starting to haze your eyes as you struggled to stay awake. He smiled gently at you. You gently smiled back.

He slid off the bed into the bathroom to discard the condom and grab a warm cloth to clean the both of you up. When he returned, you were barely conscious.

Asmo wiped a warm cloth over the mess you had created together on your skin and tucked you into bed beside him. He gently kissed your forehead and wrapped you in his arms, following you into a restful sleep.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me asmo #om!#obey me asmodeus #kat writes #nsftumblr

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pseud0knots · 4 years

Note

Please tell me about shatterstar's Childhood

oh my god anon okay I’m assuming in context of what I’ve recently posted you want like... my version of events rather than what’s canon but just in case I hope you know that there’s basically zero canon material that actually describes his childhood/young adulthood beyond “I was a warrior born” or whatever the fuck. if you want to know about that idk go on the fucken... marvel wiki page or something

also--I hate that I have to put this out here and I doubt anyone would actually do this but just in case--I have spent like 1 million hours thinking about this because I have brain disorders and it is very close to my heart so please do not A) use this in fics, etc without letting me know/getting my permission in advance or B) reblog this post

anyways. this is a can of worms so I’m going to do a cheeky lil

first we have to get something out of the way: I hate the “shatterstar’s his own grandpa” paradox. I am sorry if this angers people but it makes me mad so I ignore it. the reason it bothers me is because it means alison blaire essentially married her grandson, which is A) weird and B) bad from a genetics perspective.

in my version of canon ‘star IS the biological child of longshot and dazzler but longshot wasn’t cloned using ‘star’s DNA because..... oh god... another whole separate post can be made about this but... in my head, on mojoworld the way genetic engineering works is not really the same as it is here. here genetic engineering generally means taking an existing genome and inserting or deleting genes. this is how they make, for example, animals that glow, or confer pesticide resistance to plants.

but on mojoworld I think the way they genetically engineer is more like... the way we mechanically engineer. like the entire organism is built from the ground up. there’s a master genetic blueprint which is essentially the “minimal genome” required for a functioning humanoid. this was created by study of Earth humans by arize and the other genetic engineers. they can then go in and customize by adding elements to the genome that code for the signals/building blocks that control things like height, strength, hair color, eye color, having hollow bones etc. so in my head longshot was sort of... designed with ‘star as the inspiration, but not directly cloned. that wouldn’t even make sense anyways because A) different hair color and B) LONGSHOT HAS 3 FINGERS ON EACH HAND and shatterstar has 4!! thats NOT HOW CLONES WOULD WORK!!!!

(side note, the concept of a minimal functional genome is a real thing in biology! some scientists have taken a bacterium that already has a small genome and reduced it to the minimum size required for viability. here is a wikipedia article on it and here is the original paper (DOI: 10.1126/science.286.5447.2165) which I can explain in more detail because I took a class on synthetic biology which this technically falls under and I had to read this paper very closely).

fuck I’ve written 4 paragraphs and not even talked about his childhood yet. I am so sorry. anyways. so the way I think they raise the gladiators on mojoworld is they create them in batches of 5 to 10 identical copies of a certain “model”, place each copy in a different “class” with a set of 2-3 mentors/teachers, and train them to fight until they are 13 or 14. until this time the only names they have are the names that identify the “model”--like for shatterstar that would be gaveedra-seven where the model identifier is “gaveedra” and he is (in the lore that I have come up with) the 7th of 8 total.

the reason they create multiples and put them in different classes is each mentor is going to have a slightly different style of teaching which is going to work better for some and worse for others, so it allows them to have more mass production while increasing the chances of creating a truly great champion. it’s classic nature versus nurture--the genetic engineers create your nature, but you don’t end up exactly the same as others of your model. maybe you get an edge, maybe you don’t.

another thing that happens is different mentors believe in different ways of raising the kids in their care. shatterstar specifically was raised in a class where there was absolutely zero emotional development at all and no attachments allowed beyond fighting alliances. that’s not the case in all classes, and it also had the effect of making him somewhat of an outsider even within the other gladiators as he got older.

at 13 or 14--and yes I realize this is very fucked up but dude its fucking mojoworld idk what you expected--they start participating in fights. the first ones aren’t to the death and they’re as teams and they’re not usually televised they’re more like high school sports games that are attended by scouts (here, they’re “sponsors”--I think that’s a canonical term but I honestly can’t remember) and if you get sponsored you leave your class and join a new “team” that’s really just a bunch of people who all have the same sponsorship. this is where things can get interesting because they’ve all been raised with slightly different fighting styles but more importantly, slightly different degrees of Personhood.

also at this point I should mention that by this time, there are usually only 2, maybe 3 of each model left. either they died or were recognized as not having talent so they were sent to eventually fulfill other roles in the network. in ‘star’s case there was just him and gaveedra-five. once you get to the stage where you’re sponsored and you’re actually fighting to the death one of the first people you’ll fight is any remaining members of your model group.

by the time you’re the only one left of your group, you’re also eligible to earn a stage name. this usually happens if you have a particularly epic fight with a lot of viewers, you win and the commentators will typically say something like “Let’s give this crowd a real name to cheer!” and they’ll have a few candidate names and they’ll kind of just pick one. AUGH I actually have this scene written out in story form but its too long so I think I’ll save it.... :)

after you get a name you also get a cool outfit and usually some kind of mark or tattoo that serves as a brand. this brings me to another important point--shatterstar inherited the X-gene from alison and therefore he IS a mutant. his mutation is the swords vibration thing and the glowing eye. the star mark is a tattoo and teleportation is benjamin russell’s mutation (how he fits into all this is... for another post). basically after he got his name the costuming department guys were like “hey your eye glows, you look like the Legendary Warrior of Old, Longshot, we’re gonna pattern your look after him” so they gave him the star tattoo and the outfit that’s literally inverse colors of longshot’s.

also this brings me to another aside: you’re probably wondering “if he’s the biological kid of longshot and alison how are there 8 gaveedras?” when the genetic engineers got a hold on him as a baby they were like Sick! free baby! free genetic material! thats our job done for us! so they cloned him (in the traditional sense) and made 7 copies. this was also to kind of conceal his identity as technically being from outside mojoworld, which would make him stick out and thus be a target. they DID edit out the x-gene in the other gaveedra models though. this wasn’t a problem for ‘star because his mutation didn’t manifest until he was already sponsored.

I think that’s .... pretty much it for macroscopic lore on what it was like to be a kid gladiator on mojoworld. now let me give you some Tidbits of his life specifically:

like I said he was raised in a particularly cold and ruthless class. the mentors that raised him are like well-known by everyone to produce some of the best warriors but also there’s discourse on mojoworld because some people say perfectly emotionless killing machines aren’t as fun to watch. when he was sponsored there were 4-5 others in the same sponsorship and they were like Theres Something Wrong With You LOL

they speak earth languages on mojoworld because they’re imitating the broadcasts they (the spineless ones) used to hear from earth. however, most of the lower-class as well as almost all arena fighters and other television personalities speak cadre or other languages which are native to the planet. the stage names are all vaguely in english, but the gladiators don’t really understand them at first.

shatterstar got his name before he got the glowing eye, and when he learned what stars are, and saw his eye as a little star, he was like wow :) this is Me :) which is why that name is so important to him. it’s also one of the first things that wholly belonged to him.

(you can’t see stars on mojoworld because of light pollution and also because it’s a pocket dimension and there just aren’t that many stars to see)

I hate to bring up the s**ley miniseries but I do think it would be interesting to have him have a sort of ... mentor/first friend, similar to the concept of gringrave but they were NOT in a relationship. it was more like... another kid who was a year or so older than him got a soft spot for him and helped him not be so clueless. she didn’t make as much progress as xforce did, obviously. but they were.... something like friends.

unfortunately she was used by spiral to get shatterstar to murder the first rebel guy who tried to get him out of there. then she got switched sponsors (this can happen) and he had to kill her, and he was like well I will simply never develop any kind of attachment to anyone ever again.

he almost didn’t make it out of the first training session with his sponsorship group (this is semi-canon--there’s a reference when he’s teaching terry to swordfight to almost not surviving the first time he was in a gladiator class or whatever it was).

the closest he ever came to losing was the day he got the name. that’s why the crowds loved it so much.

the double-bladed sword was a gimmick weapon but when he got his mutation they realized it works way better if there’s resonance between two parallel blades so they redesigned it as an actual weapon.

(forgot this but I feel like I should include it) at 17 he escaped the arenas and joined the cadre alliance. two years later he came to earth and joined xforce.

I think that’s going to have to be it for now because it’s literally almost midnight and I have work tomorrow and I did NOT intend to stay up this late but I did. thank you for this opportunity anon :) feel free to ask me any other questions and also I realize a lot of this probably makes no fucking sense and that’s because I am not a writer or anything I’m just a biochemist with brain problems that cause me to obsess over stupid shit

#answered #shatterstar #GHKDJFDKHGRJ I KNOW THERES SOMETHING WRONG W/ ME THAT THIS FEELS LIKE EXPOSING MY SOUL....#Anonymous #long post #NSCU #<-thats my new tag since other people have asked about this #it stands for nadine shatterstar cinematic universe

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mcwriting · 4 years

Text

Starstruck (10; finale)

honestly this could be read standalone if you haven’t read any other parts of this story but it would definitely help with context

Here it is!! It’s been over a year coming with lots of ups and downs and hiatuses and it’s finally here! I’m so thankful for everyone who’s been on this journey with me and the people who have joined along the way!

Please don’t hesitate to stick around! Message me, ask questions, make requests! I’ve got big things coming and I’d love to add you to my taglist ;)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10

Ship: Tom Holland x Reader

Setting: LA

Word Count: 3228

Warnings: Mild language, a little bitty bit of angst but then fluff

Rating: K+

__________________________________

You woke up at 8 Friday morning excited for the day ahead. You turned your head to see b/f/n still asleep on the other side of your bed, so you grabbed your phone and scrolled through social media.

It seemed like Tom had gone quiet on social media, and therefore people seemed to tag you in less things about him.

After about an hour, b/f/n finally rolled over and stretched.

“Well hello there,” she said, voice somewhat raspy.

“You ready for today?” you immediately asked. A sly smile crept on to her face.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

The previous night had been spent pampering yourselves with facemasks and deep hair conditioning, so you felt your skin and hair were prepped for getting made up that afternoon.

You started off the morning with breakfast, then hung out for a while. After lunch, you go to work on your hair.

B/f/n helped you get bouncy curls and you pinned her hair into a low updo. It took another hour to get your makeup done in full glam. You didn’t skimp out on glitter and highlight.

Finally, it was time to get dressed. B/f/n suited up first, wearing a red gown with a layered tulle skirt, then you put on your blue dress.

You said your final goodbyes to your parents and headed to the venue.

__________________________________

Tom, Harrison, and Harry were rushing around the house getting last minute finishing touches from Christine, who’d been available to come style them and would keep it on the down low.

“Tom stop squirming! I’m trying to get this curl to lay right!” she exclaimed, fawning over his hair.

“I’m sorry, I just can’t sit still! I’m so nervous!” he explained in reply.

They’d all explained to her the main gist of what was going on, so when Christine stopped to look right at Tom, he knew she was about to say something serious.

“Okay look at me. I’ve known you for how long now? I’ve never seen you this nervous. It’s going to be okay, Tom. No matter what happens you’ve got a great group of people to support you. You’re going to go out there tonight looking incredible and you’re going to tell the girl how you feel. You got this, man. I believe in you.”

Tom smiled at the encouragement and nodded.

“Yeah, alright. You’re right. I’ve just never felt this way before and I don’t want to mess it up.”

“You literally talked two multimillion dollar corporations into coming back together just for the character you play while drunk. I’m pretty sure you’ll handle yourself just fine tonight,” she winked, finishing everything off with some hairspray.

“Okay perfect. Now Tom, you better not mess this hair up since I worked so hard to make it lay just right. Oh, and go get Harry for me. I don’t want him having an afro tonight.”

__________________________________

You and b/f/n arrived a few minutes after doors opened and found your other friends already right inside taking pictures. You all fawned over each other’s wardrobes and got plenty of photos together.

You happened to miss the “ The Brother’s Trust” logo on the poster listing off the night’s sponsors, though you probably wouldn’t have known what it was anyways at first glance.

Inside, you all found a table to set your things down at while you hung out on the dance floor before the actual dinner.

As more people, young and old, showed up, the dance floor became more crowded and it was fun to let loose with your friends. What you didn’t know about was the commotion happening behind the scenes.

Tom, Harry, and Harrison pulled into the back parking lot of the venue and looked around nervously. They weren’t quite sure what to do next, so Tom called the event coordinator he’d been in contact with for the previous week.

They were directed to come to the kitchen door to be let in, so the boys sprinted across the lot to avoid anyone seeing them. The door flung open and they were quickly ushered through the kitchen into an office.

The coordinator introduced herself, then requested for them to stay there until the dinner began. Someone brought them food to eat as people in the main room started getting off the dance floor and heading to their own tables.

You were happily seated around the table waiting for your meal when a woman came onto the stage.

“Good evening, everyone. As the food is being served, I just want to thank you for your support through purchasing tickets and for the generous sponsor donations. It’s well appreciated and will be put to good use. Here in just a little bit we will be bringing out our different surprise guests, so please, sit back, enjoy and I’ll be back in a little bit to announce the first guest.”

Your table was filled with chatter over who could be speaking. There had been rumors spread about different celebrities and business owners that might come, but it had been pretty well kept under wraps.

The first people were a band that came to play a few songs while people ate their appetizers and who promised to return to the stage later after the dinner portion was over.

Next as everyone enjoyed their entrees was a talk show host who made everyone laugh like they were in a comedy club.

As the desserts went around, the lady from before came onto the stage again.

“Well I hope you all enjoyed that. As the desserts are going around, I’d like to introduce our final surprise guest. This person has, through his family’s charity trust, generously given a large donation to this organization. I’ve asked that he would come just say a few words as the dinner came to an end. So everyone please give a warm welcome to Mr. Tom Holland!”

There were claps and cheers all around you, but you just took a sharp gasp, glancing around and blinking furiously to make sure this wasn’t a dream (nightmare?).

You were frozen as you watched him step out from behind a curtain and take a microphone from the woman, waving as he scanned the crowd. He was wearing a grey suit with navy accents.

You looked to your friends who looked at you with wide eyes. B/f/n avoided eye contact.

“Good evening, everyone and thank you for the warm welcome,” he began as the cheers died down.

You again looked at b/f/n.

“Did you know about this?” you whispered accusingly. She looked down with guilt. “Oh even worse. You had a part in this, didn’t you?”

“Y/n, I can explain-” she began, but you cut her off.

“No, you know what? Save it. We’ll talk about this later,” you spat, turning back to face the stage where Tom was. If you could just make it through his little speech, then you could drag b/f/n outside to figure out what the hell was going on.

“I’m so honored to have been involved in this and am excited to see where the money given by the brother’s trust will be used.”

He continued to scan the room until his eyes finally locked on yours.

“And, um. I,” you looked away and he cleared his throat. “Excuse me, um, I’m excited to get to meet all of you after the dinner has finished…”

You realized he was still looking at you when you looked back up. You couldn’t handle this like you’d thought, so you tossed your napkin on the table and grabbed your phone, quickly trying to run out without too many people noticing.

Of course, Tom saw it from his place on the stage. He looked at b/f/n who put up her hands and gave a head nod towards the door, then got up to follow you.

“Anyways, I’ll let you get back to your desserts. Thank you all again for your support tonight,” he quickly finished, rushing off the stage to more claps and cheers.

“Y/n just ran out, what do I do?” Tom asked hurriedly to his brothers from backstage.

“Figure out how to get out there! Where was b/f/n?” Harrison asked.

“She followed her but I don’t know how much time I have. We need to figure out the best way to avoid the crowd!”

In the lobby, b/f/n was pleading with you to stop and calm down. You whipped around to face her, eyes misty.

“I can’t calm down, b/f/n! What the hell is going on?! How- why did you do this? I thought you said this would be the perfect night to move on and have fun, but I can’t really do that when you’re in kahoots with the guy who broke my heart! I mean what were you thinking!”

“I was thinking about you, y/n! You’ve been so depressed these past few weeks… I know you have feelings for him whether you want to admit it or not. I saw the way you smiled when we talked about that cologne the other day, and the way you get that longing look when you see a picture of him. Neither of you are over each other, and I couldn’t stand to see you like this any longer.”

“What happened to never hiding anything from each other again, huh? You didn’t think to, I don’t know, warn me before tonight that he would be here? Considering that I’m sure you’ve known about this for a while.”

“Oh come on, y/n. You wouldn’t have come tonight if you knew Tom was going to be here. He and Harrison and Harry begged me to keep it a secret so that you two would be able to have a real conversation. Tom wants to see you. Bad. Look, I’m sorry that it caught you off guard, but this was the only way I could think to get you two together.”

You sighed, still stewing over everything.

“Yeah, I probably wouldn’t have come. But that would have been my choice. I don’t know that I want to talk to him after what he did to me. What could he even want from me, other than to mock me for not having clout or something?” You paused again. “This was supposed to be a fun night, but now all I want is to crawl in a hole and hide forever.”

B/f/n looked down again.

“Like I said, I’m sorry we did it this way, but I knew you’d say no if I asked. He’s had a change of heart, y/n. Could you please reconsider? I mean… he’s right there,” she gestured behind you and you turned around.

There he was, in the flesh. Flanked by his brother and best friend. You crossed your arms and looked at b/f/n again.

“I’ll give him five minutes, but I swear if he does anything funny we’re leaving, okay? Promise me that.”

B/f/n looked between you and Tom’s group.

“Absolutely. Five minutes.”

She walked over to them and said a few words, Tom essentially keeping his eyes on you. She then gestured for you to follow them through a couple halls to a secluded room, leaving only you and Tom to talk.

“What do you want from me, Holland? I’m sure b/f/n told you, but you’ve got five minutes to explain yourself before I get the hell out of here.”

“And that’s all I need, y/n,” he pleaded. “I just want you to know how sorry I am. For everything. I’m sorry that I dragged you into my life unwillingly, I’m sorry for humiliating you and shunning you on a world stage. I’m most sorry for leaving you. I truly am.”

He looked down, ashamed. You were still mad, but felt a little pang in your heart.

“And that’s just supposed to make everything okay? I thought you were cool after the time we spent together. I thought I could trust you. But no, you had to listen to those awful people who you pay to be awful and go out and tell the world all about me. You chose the life of stardom, but I didn’t get that choice because of your cowardice,” you spat.

You knew somewhere in the back of your mind that you were being harsh, but everything you’d kept inside since he left was finally bubbling up again. He nodded his head in agreement.

“This doesn’t make it okay, at all. I didn’t think about the negative effects it would have on you before I put your name out to the millions of people who follow me. I was stupid and careless. And as far as my management goes, well, I fired them. After your speech went viral, what you said finally clicked. You helped me realize what dicks they were and the dick I was for listening to them.”

You stood up straight when he mentioned the last part, looking at him suspiciously.

“You- you did?” you looked around the room, even though no one else was there. “This isn’t another one of their little set ups?”

“No, no absolutely not. Do you really think they would have let me come here under their direction? Y/n, I came here because I know I messed up. Big time. I want to fix that, I want to be friends with you and I don’t know… maybe something more? I realized in these past few weeks that I am really and truly infatuated with you. And you can say no and I’ll walk out of your life for the final time, but I just needed you to know that I like you, a lot, and I’d like for you to be in my life in some way or another.”

You took a heavy breath and furrowed your brows, processing what he’d just confessed.

He’s here, on his own accord, for me? He cares? Is this an act still?

Tom took your long pause as a no and started to walk off.

“Wait, Tom.”

He turned back to you, eyes hopeful. You breathed deep again before speaking up.

“What you did was wrong, and it hurt, but I want you in my life, too. I’ve never met anyone that I felt so comfortable with so quickly. I don’t know why… I don’t know how… but, I like you too. No matter how much I pretend to hate you for what happened, I could never find a place in my heart to actually hate you.”

You couldn’t meet his eyes, instead shaking your head, wondering what had convinced you to finally admit that out loud.

“You mean that? You actually like me too?” he asked skeptically. You couldn’t blame him.

“Yes, Tom! I like you! I can’t help but spread the cologne you gave me over my sheets, or smile when a fan tags me in one of a bajillion of those fan edits they’re always making! I think back on the conversation we had that night at my house and I wonder what made me so against being a fan of yours from the beginning. I like you Tom. I just can’t believe that you like me, too.”

He gave you a watery grin at your explosive confession.

“Can I do something that I’ve been wanting to do since the night I fell asleep right next to you?”

You had a pretty good idea of what he was suggesting, but played dumb anyways, stepping forward so that you were about a foot away.

“I don’t know, can you?”

He rolled his eyes and closed the gap between you. One of his hands found itself resting on your waist as the other reached to tip up your chin. Your own arms instinctively grabbed his jacket lapels.

The last thing you caught before closing your eyes was the way his sparkled, and then your lips met.

You felt like you were back in bed laying on your side facing Tom when he told you about his own home and family and you explained your passion for dance. It was like the next morning when you first smelled the remains of cologne woven into your bed sheets as he gripped you in his arms. It was like holding his hand in a disgusting public restroom as the adrenaline of running from the paparazzi waned.

He felt like home.

When you pulled back you were really finally starstruck. A big smile rose to your lips, as did his.

You couldn’t contain yourself as you threw your arms around his neck and kissed him again like you’d never done with anyone else, one hand gripping his curls.

He laughed as you pulled away, letting go of you to smooth his hair.

“My stylist is gonna kill me if she knows my hair got messed up,” he joked. This time you were rolling your eyes.

“Maybe I do remember why I didn’t like you before…”

He laughed it off and pulled you into a hug, which you happily reciprocated. You didn’t realize that it had been five minutes until b/f/n burst through the door, trailed by Harrison and then Harry.

“Alright did you two solve your issu- Oh. Well then, looks like our work here is done boys,” she joked. You and Tom blushed.

That is, until Harrison pulled your best friend into his own arms, picking her up and spinning her around. You and Tom looked at each other, then them, and then Harry suspiciously. Harry just tossed his hands up and shrugged.

“Are you two trying to steal our thunder?” you taunted after he set her down and they were lost in each other’s eyes. It was their turns for their cheeks to redden.

“Well the only thing I’ve learned on this trip is that I should have stayed home. Maybe then I would’ve at least had Tuwaine to caress me,” Harry deadpanned, causing you all to laugh. “Well come on, then, we should get back out there. We did promise to mingle.”

Tom panickedly looked at his watch.

“Yes! Right, we should get back out there. You all go ahead and we’ll be right behind,” he said. They all left, b/f/n wrapped under one of Harrison’s arms. You were happy for her.

“So… ready for me to formally introduce us to the world together?” he asked you, holding out his forearm for you to grab.

“Not really, but this time I have you by my side,” you replied, snaking your arm around his. He smiled as you began to walk with him. “By the way, I see you matched the suit to my dress.”

“Oh you like it? Well you’re looking like a real stunner in that…”

Your voices faded into the background as you entered the room as Tom and y/n. Y/n and Tom.

It’s not often a girl can say she’s fallen for a big time celebrity and that he’s felt the same way back, but there you were. And it’s even less often that his and hers best friends fell for each other, too, but there they were.

And you were facing a starstuck world together.

The end.

__________________________________

A/N: ugh this makes me soft. Thank you all again for reading and please please please hang around! I’m not planning on going anywhere just because this is done!

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