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redflagshipwriter · 5 months ago

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Reassembly 7

masterpost

Days went by. Peter got a lucky break and a short job offer. He holed up in the library and designed a website for a veterinarian’s office.

Of course, that left the problem of payment. After the first day of working on the website intently he went out at night and got together all the information that he'd need to make a bank account. It was a tedious process that required going to multiple offices and faking an address.

He barely slept that night. Nerves, man. But he got to a local bank and his paperwork apparently passed muster.

…Was that fraud?

Peter shrugged that thought away. It kinda seemed like the least of his problems at the moment. He was an interdimensionally stranded homeless teenager. He wasn't hurting anybody by lying so that he could find a way to feed himself.

He was dropping weight at an upsetting rate. His only regular meal was the early morning buffets. Out of desperation he had started going to more- 5 hotels in a morning, and hitting a much bigger radius to avoid being noticed in the same places. He ate at all of them but more importantly he snuck out whatever food he could. It wasn't enough. He never got close to enough, but he had a payday coming.

He only hung out with Kon once that week, guilty at the idea of going over to mooch food. Peter was busy, anyway. In the hours the library was closed he needed to go to the gym and take care of his hygiene, to break into offices, and to dumpster dive for more discarded clothing.

He got more socks and a package of underwear, which did a lot for morale. It wasn't as stressful as his first attempt. He was able to be pickier now, at least. It wasn't like he had a ton of space to store anything. It was so frustrating to wash his clothes in the sink with body soap because he could never get them all dry. He ended up splaying things out on the library roof and just hoping that the wind didn't take them away.

He got to the point where he couldn't go any further on the website without all the copy from the business. Peter spent his library hours reading history and current events and science. He spent an hour reading about the test he'd apparently need to take to get a legitimate qualification for college. He needed 50 dollars to sign up, and that was almost all the cash he had…

He grimaced through actual stomach pains about it, but Peter forked it over and got signed up for the next test.

He ended up spending a dollar and ten cents at a dollar store for a shitty phone cord to charge the old flip phone. He regretted it the next time he turned the thing on and found out that the service had been suspended.

Peter wasn't proud about it but he cried. He put his face in his hands and he cried. Everything was just so hard, all the time, and he was tired.

The veterinarian got back to him with about half the information he needed. Peter plugged in their business hours, programmed a scheduling system, and amended the comments form. He still needed their logo. He waited on that and he studied for his test.

It turned out that he had underestimated the cultural differences here. He ended up going through an online list of the most commonly read novels in high school and frantically read as many as possible.

Kon showed up while he was walking to the library one morning after breakfast. Peter pulled up short to keep from walking into the guy and let out a frankly embarrassing sound.

“Hey, Pete,” Kon said breezily. He ignored the yelp like he hadn't even heard it. “So I was thinking that if I wanted to go to college there's stuff to do? And I don't know what.” He waited expectantly.

“...There's a test,” Peter offered. “Gotta sign up.”

Just like that, he had a study buddy. They tried to get him signed up that day but ran into difficulty with paperwork. Kon was cagey about it. Peter took him at his word the next day when he said it was handled, expression pinched.

Studying with Kon was a little weird because the guy was like an encyclopedia but he also clearly thought he was a dummy. He could rattle off any formula that Peter asked about, knew dates and names, but he was basically petrified about writing a short answer question. Peter tried to be encouraging, but he didn't really know if it helped. It didn't hurt at least.

Days passed and became a week, then two. The veterinarian’s office paid him and left him a nice review on the freelance website. Peter did not spend a cent. He made endless lists ordering his priorities and plans, hands shaking.

He had almost a thousand dollars. That was a lot of money. It also really, really wasn't.

What he wanted to do- he wanted to get a hotel and sleep in a real bed, as long as he wanted, and to feel good about eating the complimentary breakfast. But that would be wasteful. Wouldn't it? He didn't literally have to. He should save everything. No, he should buy more food– but if he got restaurant food it was a waste, it was much cheaper to cook- but he couldn't, without a kitchen.

Peter talked himself in circles that way, hands fisted in his hair. It was about an hour past midnight on the day he'd gotten paid and he was in the library, on the couch that wasn't really long enough for a teenager to stretch out on.

Well. Peter sniffled. The inhalation brought with it the slightly musty scent of his clothes.

He could use a laundromat, as a modest splurge. Hygiene was crucial. Hand washing the clothes had kind of been working but it was probably a better measure for stretching out between proper washes than a substitute for using real fabric soap. It wasn't irresponsible to maintain what he owned and to make sure he could pass in general society.

Peter felt a little better after deciding that. He rolled into the sofa to bury his face in the back. Honestly. He could just give himself a small budget without doing much to sabotage his savings. Say, 50 dollars?

‘I absolutely need to eat more,’ Peter decided. He bit his lower lip. The occasional dinner with Kon only went so far.

So. He needed to get something that was cheap, relatively nutritious and calorie dense. Portable, too, since all he had for storage was the bag.

…come to think of it, he should probably wash that too.

“Alright, I have a game plan,” Peter muttered to the empty library. “In the morning I'll wash everything, then go to a grocery store.”

Thankfully he was able to fall asleep after that. He bounced his leg up and down as he waited for the washing machine to finish.

Cheap, calorie dense foods. Obviously, rice or beans would have been best, but he couldn't cook that. The library had pitchers of hot water for patrons to use with tea bags but they weren't going to be hot enough to actively cook rice.

…Oatmeal. Instant oatmeal would work that way, though. He could scoop some into the paper cups and - well, it would be a little weird, but not that conspicuous.

Laundry took a very long time when he didn't have anyone to text, or a functioning phone to do it on. Peter briefly considered if he could prioritize getting a phone plan, and then decided not really. He took out his notebooks, which were nearly full at this point. He had the slightly anxious thought that he was going to have to buy another one soon. Oh, heck, he'd need a whole bunch of stationery if he was going to go to college. He let out a shaky breath, thinking of all the things he absolutely had to have, never mind the things he wanted to have, like a bed.

‘Maybe they'll have cheap dorms. No, wait, if I stay in dorms then I'll be homeless between semesters.’

Peter buried those worries down deep. He needed to deal with them, but it didn't have to be right now.

His vague plan worked out at the store. He got a bag of oatmeal for a few bucks, and then got himself a few supplementary treats. Aka, a little tube of nice toothpaste, a cheap nail clipper, a bag of protein bars, and a bunch of bananas that he carefully nested on top of the clothes in his bag. He ate one as soon as he left the store and threw the peel into the trash can.

As soon as he had access to a kitchen, he was going to buy like, a big bag of rice and beans, a bunch of onions and bell peppers, and like two seasonings. Cumin and garlic powder? Coriander? Whatever. Oh, can't forget salt and pepper.

The point was that he could eat so much more and so cheaply as soon as he had a stove and a pan. Peter bit his lip and promised himself that he was going to get to that point as soon as possible. Within the month.

Oh. He stopped in his tracks. He didn't actually have to wait for the school year to start.

People walked around him on the sidewalk. He felt like he was in a school of fish. He felt a little alien and silly.

That was so obvious. If Gotham was a nightmare place to live, then there would be cheap shitty apartments there. Sure, the 860 he had left in his bank account probably wasn't enough to get an apartment. But it was a really good start. If he got like, one or two more jobs and didn't spend much of the money, he could find the dingiest corner of Gotham and scuttle up the wall with a bag of dried beans.

Peter did a fist pump and didn't give a hoot that he was in public. He had a plan! A solid plan. Gotham apartment, academic testing, then university: and then, uh.

Hmm. Peter frowned. There was a bit of a gap in his plan there.

Well. Hopefully at university he'd figure out the dimensional travel thing. How hard could it be?

#red reassembly #marvel dc crossover #dc marvel crossover

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starshower1215 · 3 months ago

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Levihan High School HCs: IB Program Edition

(Mainly for me. A select number will understand... warning: prone to edits)

Code:

IA - Internal Assessment

HL - Higher Level (2 year course)

SL - Standard Level (1 year course)

EE - Extended Essay

CAS Hours - Basically volunteer hours

Levi hates touching banisters and handrails on staircases, so he hangs off of Hange's arm.

Hange takes HL Biology and HL Chemistry. They keep track of HL Physics and HL Math material, though, out of pure intrigue. They probably had engineering courses, too.

Levi is in HL Psychology and HL History. He just wants to get his diploma and leave. Or maybe Math HL, he seems like he'd be inexplicably good with numbers.

Hange is in robotics and, surprisingly to most, is in track and field with Levi. Hange does long distance, though. Levi meets for long distance practices as well as practice for sprinters but usually is a sprinter during track meets.

In this universe, Levi is still broke (damn), but he takes the road of education as opposed to crime in order to find himself opportunity. He's hoping to get into colleges this way.

Levi and Hange join humanitarian clubs together, like Red Cross and UNICEF. They love getting CAS hours together.

Hange studies German and Levi studies... also German, maybe?

Hange is a natural at public speaking. Their speeches and presentations are always incredibly well thought out and articulated beautifully.

Levi did a Math IA on tea and the ideal time it would take him to cool the tea for optimal temperature, considering the average time it takes him to finish a cup of tea so that it stays hot for as long as he needs.

Hange checks out textbooks from the school library for fun, often Gen. Ed. books.

They take a lot of AP classes, too, and encourage Levi to do so as well. Hange is going for an IB diploma as well as an AP diploma.

To maximize success, Hange ate, slept, swam and lived in German. They thought in German as they were doing all their studies for other classes, so they gained a lot of extra knowledge. Thus, in the Individual Oral Presentation, Hange talked their professor's ear off about some obscure topic they fell down a rabbit hole for after doing a school assignment in German. They probably scored a 6 or 7.

Hange's global presentation was about life below water. Levi's was about something related to poverty conditions.

After school and extracurricular activities, they like to study together on a call. They'll both be awake at the most odd hour in the morning, half delusional while working on their EEs or studying for exams.

They are each other's alarm clocks. If one wakes up before the other, they'll give the other a phone call to wake them. Usually Levi does the waking, since he sets an alarm regularly, but occasionally Hange will wake Levi.

Due to stuff like this, both of them are constantly seen charging their phones at school.

#levi x hange #levihan #levi x hanji #levi ackerman #hange zoë #hanji zoë #hanji zoe #hange zoe #hange zoe headcanons #levi ackerman headcanons #ib program #high school au

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noodyl-blasstal · 1 year ago

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Maff Guy

It's @taznovembercelebration day 22 and we're still on the train, baby! Today's prompt was "fix it" and this happened. I think it's prime for the expanding at some point though?

Read below or on Ao3, catch yesterday's here if you missed it!

Maff Tutor Wanted

That definitely wasn’t on the notice board last night when Kravitz was closing. The request was polite though, kindly worded, enough to make Kravitz believe that “Taako” really did want some help. Kravitz snags the poster, he’s not going to reduce his chances by letting anyone else apply. What was another job to add to his collection? Orchestra did not pay as well as people seemed to think - especially in the season break that Gerald insisted they have because when else was he going to visit the second house his family bought him as a treat for graduating. Not that Kravitz was bitter. No no, it’s fine. It’s even more fine that Gerald got all the solos because his parents were very generous with their donations. Totally and completely fine.

Kravitz carefully adds the number to his phone and forgets about it until break time when the poster falls out of his bag as he attempts to wrestle his reading out. His manager had banned him from reading at the register, even when the place was empty.

Kravitz [10:32] Dear Taako, Are you still looking for a maths tutor? My name is Kravitz and I would be willing to work with you on your math ability. Kind regards, Kravitz.

Kravitz is face first in a paragraph about orchestral arrangements which seems to be trying its best to be as incomprehensible as possible when his phone buzzes.

Taako - Maths Tutoring [10:48] That’s what it’s called here? When can you start?

Kravitz reads it again, just in case he’s missing something, but nope. What the fuck do they call it anywhere else? Oh… Unless it’s the math/maths thing?

Kravitz [10:49] Dear Taako, Thank you for getting in touch. I’m free Thursday evenings between 7am and 9pm, Fridays 10am to 3pm, and Sundays any time. Would any of these slots be suitable for you? Kind regards, Kravitz

He’s rereading the paragraph for the four(…teenth?) time when Taako replies again.

Taako - Maths Tutoring [10:58] Taako’ll take all of the above.

All of them? Kravitz does some quick mental maths (to warm up for the tutoring) the wage on the poster times all of those hours is many many of money. So many of money he might be able to jack in the survey job. He loathes having to con people into filling out their personal details on the stupid little tablet computer for a ‘chance to win’. He especially hates that they’ve started using GPS to make sure he’s ‘on the move’ i.e. not holed up in the toilets making up answers for a variety of fake people he’s busy inventing… in his defence, it was very rainy. Taako might be a murderer, but there’s not really a way to ask that that won’t lose him the job. Taako’s also probably not going to reply with yes I super duper am, swing by at 7 and give him a heads up on said murdering. He’ll give it a go, then decide whether to quit the Pulse of Neverwinter role or not.

Kravitz [10:59] Dear Taako, Okay, shall we meet at the library? We can start tomorrow. Kind regards, Kravitz.

He rehouses everything in his bag and makes it back to the counter before Jenkins can yell at him for going over his allotted break time. When he’s allowed his 15 minutes for lunch (Jenkins’ break schedule is bordering on sadistic) there’s one final text waiting for him.

Taako - Maths Tutoring [11:02] CU there.

Kravitz stands nervously in front of the library. He’s swiftly realising that describing himself or setting a meeting point other than ‘the massive fuck off library’ may have been helpful.

“KravitzSaysWhat” Says a voice from behind him.

“Wuah!” Kravitz jumps and spins to look at the speaker.

“Well that’s no fun, you’re supposed to say what.” The man, the very handsome man, stood behind Kravitz pouts adorably.

“What?”

“Better late than never.” The man smiles wide and wild. He has a gap between his front teeth and what looks like days old eyeliner under his eyes. Kravitz thinks he might be the most most handsome man he’s ever seen. “The handle’s Taako, I believe you’re maff guy?”

“I… uh.” Kravitz says intelligently, tutor-ily, super responsible trust me with your education-ily. In his defence, he didn’t expect to have to use his being-normal-around-hot-guys brain alongside his thinking-brain today. “Oi oi, pleased to meet you.”

Oh good.

Fucking perfect.

He’s cockney now apparently. He truly thought he was past the anxious accent. Shit.

“Ooooh, a man with an accent, Taako loves it. So, shall we get down to it?” Taako gives him a slow once over and Kravitz wonders if they’re still talking about the tutoring. Honestly, Taako could teach him anything any time, he’d listen. Maybe they could take turns?

“Sounds good to me.” He remembers the accent, thank the lady. “I booked a study room.”

Taako tilts his head and frowns at Kravitz. “You’re not a murderer right? If you are and you don’t tell me it’s entrapment.”

“No.” Says Kravitz. “But that’s probably what a murderer would say… Are you one? I wanted to ask, but just picked a public place as I thought you’d probably lie if you were.”

“Cool.” Taako shrugs and doesn’t say anything about his murderous intent or lack thereof. “My sister made me ask.”

“Do you need to tell her you checked?”

Taako scoffs. “Already did, handsome.”

He’s walking away before Kravitz can decide whether he’s more interested in the fact Taako definitely didn’t text his sister during their conversation or being called handsome by him. Apart from he can, and it’s the latter, even though it probably shouldn’t be. Kravitz sets his shoulders back, stands tall, and follows behind. Handsome! Taako thinks he’s handsome.

–

“Okay, so I’m gonna level with you. Cha’boy gave up learning maff like mmmm, 50 years ago, it kept being different and I was just passing through, but now cha’boy’s staying put there’s no escaping it. Trust me, I’ve tried.”

Kravitz is baffled. Those are definitely all words he knows, but they sure aren’t in an order he can comprehend.

“So now that you’ve decided to stay here…” Kravitz pauses, hoping Taako may decide to fill in a blank for him here.

“You forgot about your accent.”

“I mean…” Kravitz tries in his very Cockney twang.

“Nope!” Taako cuts him off. “Too late. You can tell me all about why you decided to do that later, but right now, Taako needs to know how to add shit because he keeps fucking up in shops and apparently my sister and brother in law decided to fall in love with a place that has taxes.” Taako glares at the concept of taxes which is apparently currently inhabiting the corner of the room.

“Okay. Where would you like to start?”

“Just gimme everything. You don’t need to know baby speed, I know gangals.”

“I’m sorry, you know what now?”

“Nevermind, let’s build it from the ground up. I bet you’d construct some lovely foundations.” Taako’s eyes linger on Kravitz’s mouth.

Kravitz has no idea what the double entendre is entendre-ing at, but he’s a big fan of whatever is happening right now.

“Are you familiar with the Arabic numerals, like 1-10?” Kravitz asks. There’s something he’d like to be familiar with, but it’s not number based.

“I can think of something I’d like to be familiar with.” Taako has no shame, he doesn’t even look vaguely embarrassed.

Kravitz ploughs on valiantly… he can think of something else he’d like to plough. Oh shit. No. This was bad teaching. Could you get fired for impure thoughts? “Maybe if you write here the numbering system you’re used to we can work from there?”

“Whatever you say, kemosabe.” Taako takes the pen from his hand and begins scribbling. A few minutes later the page is full of incomprehensible squiggles and a number 5.

Kravitz points to it happily. “I know that one.”

“Everywhere does, it’s the one thing that never changes. Taako doesn’t count on much, but he can always count on five.” Taako laughs then, like he’s just told a great joke, like he’s the funniest man alive.

Kravitz laughs too. Taako can be whatever he wants to be.

An hour and a half later and Taako’s got the hang of the numbers. He knew most of them, it was just the order that was tripping him up. Kravitz is almost disappointed when he realises they’re at a natural stopping point.

“So, you said all of Sunday was free… Wanna come see my ship? Taako’ll cook you dinner as a thank you for the numbers.”

Kravitz should say that it’s fine, he should say he doesn’t go to clients’ houses, he should say that Taako doesn’t need to pay him back for anything because he’s literally paying him.

“You live on a house boat?”

Taako cocks his head and looks at Kravitz for a moment, then smiles. “That sure is a thing you can call it.”

Hope you enjoyed! Wanna read more? You can find the next prompt here.

#Just a normal guy who needs to learn all of maths quickly please and thank you #(Guess who's relistening to the finale at the moment?)#taz nc #taz november celebration #Noodyl Writes #Taakitz

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karmagotme · 8 months ago

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I'm rather proud of this, even if it did take me about a month to complete.

Let me explain.

I'm normally a cross stitcher, but I'd been seeing a lot of embroidery tricks on Pinterest (chronic scroller) and have been wanting to try the tulip button stitch for quite some time. Unfortunately, I had no jackets or cardis appropriate enough to try it on, so I hit up the Rockmans website and got this fuzzy thing for $20 (marked down from $80, mind, so I'd call that a win). It eventually arrived and it came with buttons like this:

Blingy, no holes, and so heavy they were drooping off the cardi and making it a lop sided garment when worn unbuttoned.

In other words, perfect.

Before I could start lopping them off, I had to make sure I had replacement buttons. As I live in small town with barely any decent crafting supplies, I needed to wait for a day off work where I could travel the hour and a bit away to my closest Spotlight. The day finally came, I took in the spare/replacement button the cardi came with, hunted through the minimal button section (why do buttons not come in those long tubes with the sample button on the lid anymore? Sometimes I would like to buy more than one button? Or more than three??) and walked away with a packet of mixed white buttons.

Then my stupid brain hit.

When I finally had another day for me to work on my cardi, I opened the button packet and started rummaging. I pulled out the various buttons that had been the same size as the original buttons, lamented that the creamy ones with the slight flower petal design on them only numbered 3, and realised that in order to find enough of the right size buttons that were all the same type, I was going to have to sort them.

I ... may have a problem when it comes to sorting.

Sorting things takes me AGES. Not that I think I'm bad at it, I think I'm too GOOD at it. My usual sorting items of choice are books. You won't believe how much enjoyment I get at spending days sorting our library after every time we've had to move house. And just like with sorting books, buttons seem to have their own distinctions. Buttons with 2 holes. Buttons with 4. Buttons with writing. Buttons with SHEEN. SPECIFICALLY COLOURED SHEEN. THERE WERE SO MANY BUTTONS WITH GREEN SHEEN AND, LIKE, THREE WITH PINK?!

Anyway.

I believe the task of sorting them into pairs or more of identical buttons - with a small pile of Lonesome Larries to the side - followed by bagging up the piles, and followed THEN by glad wrapping the rest of them because I had limited amount of little baggies, took me a good couple of hours. In the end, I had a pile of 7 of these plain white buttons of the right size, so at least I have 2 spare if I ever lose any in the future.

And then I discovered just how difficult a French knot can be.

Mini videos on Pinterest generally don't explain how to do things in words. I'm a visual learner, I think, so I thought I'd be able to do this just by following the example. I struggled for a long time, @itchylimpet 's Ma even tried to help me to no avail, and after watching many videos and reading one article on how to do it, I finally managed to do it without making a horrible mess. I continued on, paused for dinner, and by the pitch of night I had finally finished.

So, there you have it. One project that resulted in barely much but took forever to do. I am proud that I eventually managed to get it and I am excited at trying out some other embroidery projects I have in mind. I know this is probably silly, considering it was just a button change, but I like this.

#Cardi #Cardigan #Changing buttons #Embroidery #Embroidery flowers #The Internet made it look so easy I'm kinda mad at that #Sewing #I'm not used to this

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bluehouryoongi · 9 months ago

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BITE ME- 1: The Beginning

Pairing: Jake x Female Reader

Genre: Vampire Enhypen and Human Reader College Strangers to Friends to Lovers!AU

Synopsis: Set in present-day Pacific Northwest US. Y/n in a college student, and keeps to herself. One day, she has strange encounters with two statuesque men, one of which invites her to a party (at their mansion ofc) where she drunkenly confesses that she can't pay her rent. Vast and highly believable events ensue, leading to her live with 7 a-little-too-perfect guys. That's all you need to know.

Chapter Summary:

A short baby first chapter because getting things started is hard. I promise y/n is not insufferably annoying, our girl is struggling for the first few chapters. Her badassery comes with time, promise;)

← Masterlist – Next→

PROLOGUE:

It’s already looking like it’s going to be a cold, dark winter. That comes with the territory of living in the Pacific Northwest, however it is still hard to combat the seasonal blues. Over the years, I have floated between friend groups, never quite sticking with one. Everyone always seems to be better friends with each other than they are with me. That’s okay, though. I like to keep to myself, it’s easier that way. I grew up being close with my family, never feeling the lack of friends. When I got the opportunity to come to this University to study English Literature on a hefty scholarship, I had no choice but to move 6+ hours away from them. It’s been almost 3 years here, and I am still getting by on my own. I have my cousin Gracie, who, although lives across the country from me, still texts me everyday and Facetime's me every few. School keeps me busy, and when I am not holed up in the library writing papers, I am working at a local bookstore Mont Blanc Books. My life is simple, and I am going to do my best to keep it that way. Why do I have a strange feeling this dark season might bring along new changes to that simplicity as well?

CHAPTER 1:

Of course it would start raining as I walked out of my class. Of course I did not bring an umbrella. Fast walking awkwardly with my head down, it is. Damn, is the water literally falling horizontally from the sky? Why is every single droplet hitting my eyes right now? I settle into a quick rhythm, weaving through any of the students who actually brought an umbrella today and are taking their sweet time down the path. I look up for a split second, just in time to ram right into the chest of someone.

“Oh my god,” I say, stopping in my tracks but not quite looking up to examine who I ran into. These raindrops are still threatening to pierce my vision.

“Sorry, I think that was my fault” says the voice. A light accent coating the words.

Wait, I know that voice. I look up, just in time to make the connection that the person I just collided with is Jake. As in, the ever elusive and yet somehow still painfully charming Jake. We took a Romantic Era Literature class together last semester, and of course he always had thoughtful insights to add to the class. I couldn’t just chalk him up to being some annoying jerk who ran through girlfriends almost as quickly as I was just fast walking. No, he actually could somehow be both a mysterious playboy and a dedicated student who said things like; “Frankenstein's monster could have lived among the humans, it's just everyone was too scared to ever see past his intimidating exterior”.

Yes I can quote things he said in class. No, we don't need to think further about that.

At the moment, I am still staring awkwardly at him and thinking about everything except what I will say next. So instead, I do what I always do. Laugh when it is unnecessary to fill the silent void. I also notice that I am not feeling any rain, because Jake is holding an umbrella over himself and (now,) me. I stand up straight and say;

“Nope, definitely my fault.” Cue another awkward chuckle on my end. “I should have been looking where I was going…it's just this rain seems to be out to get me today and-”

“It's fine. No harm done, really” Of course he's nice in real life too, and not just in front of professors.

“Thanks. Well, I’m gonna just…go.” Wow. You would think I have read enough books to be able to have a normal conversation with a devilishly handsome boy, and yet here I am.

“Take this,” he says, holding out the umbrella.

“Oh no, that’s not necessar-” before I can finish he starts walking away, in the direction I came.

I stand dumbfounded for a moment. Looking ahead of me, and then realizing the shock also took away my manners, I turn around and start saying “thank you!” but he’s gone. Weird. The walkway is straight, with no other paths crossing into it where he could have turned. He just…disappeared. Whatever. I am cold and wet and would like to be in my car now. As I walk, I replay the interaction over and over in my head.

—

I clock in for my shift at Mont Blanc. It is a Thursday night, which means it should be pretty quiet. We don’t get a ton of foot traffic as it is, but especially not on weeknights. As I sit behind the front desk, I pull out my current read: Dracula. We are reading it in my Bookworms of the PNW group for November. We have already read Twilight (which was my pick because, duh. Classic.) and Carmilla over the past couple of months. We are clearly on a vampire kick. Next we are reading Interview with a Vampire by Anne Rice. It felt fitting, as it’s feeling more and more like winter. Plus we all like to compare hot vamps and discuss the lore. I have always loved gothic literature. There's something about reading books about monsters who are also human that will always get me.

After about thirty minutes of reading, the bell signaling the door opening rings. I look up, and it's a tall boy with white-blonde hair. I recognize him from campus; he’s hard to miss. He's gorgeous, and has an energy about him that you can’t forget. Not to mention the fact that he and his 6 other brothers are well known among the school for being the most attractive, most popular, and throwing the best parties. Now that I think about it, I don’t think they are actually all brothers. Considering the fact that they are all the same age and don’t all look alike. Hm. I will have to investigate that further later. Me and my cousin, who I rant to about anything and everything, have started calling them 'the statues'. It was birthed after I was explaining how they literally look like they are made of porcelain, or glass. It doesn't seem humanly possible to look so effortlessly cool, but who am I to judge that.

“Welcome in!” I say.

He nods, and smiles. Walking up to the counter, slightly leaning on it towards me.

“Looking for anything in particular today?” I ask.

“No, just…wanted to look.” He is staring at me a bit intensely. I don’t feel uncomfortable, just very…seen.

“Alright! Well, let me know if you need any help.” I expect him to start looking around the store, but instead, he cocks his head to the side and examines me further.

Weird. “Have we met before?” I ask. Damn, conversations are not coming easy to me today.

“No. I’m Sunoo, although I believe we go to the same University.”

“Oh!” Yeah, I knew that already. Let’s not seem creepy, though. “ Yeah, I think I have seen you around a couple times. I’m Y/n.”

He smiles. I smile. Somehow, I don’t feel awkward. There’s a kindness about him.

“I love your hair. Delicious color. Not many can pull it off.” He says.

Interesting choice of words. I’m flattered though and chuckle, running my hands through it as if to say ‘oh this old hair?’.

“Thanks! It's my favorite color.”

My hair is dyed a deep red. In most lighting, it just looks black. If the sun or a light hits it just right, though, you can tell.

“I could say the same about yours! It’s giving jack frost in the least weird way possible.” I say before I can think about it further. I internally cringe at myself.

He just laughs, and smiles. “You’re funny. I like you.” He lightly points at me as he says this. I just smile in response because, thanks? “Hey…if you're not busy tomorrow night we are having a party at my place. You should come by. Lots of music, people, booze…”

Not to play the ‘i'm not like other girls’ card, but I really don’t do college parties. However, something about Sunoo makes me want to say yes. I also may or may not be thinking about Jake and how he will most definitely be there. I just need to return the umbrella, okay? Plus, these boys are well known around the University for having the biggest ragers. Professors practically expect the reason students will miss a monday morning 8am class is because of them. We don’t have “greek life” at my University, however these 7 boys are the closest thing we have to a fraternity. If I were to explain their persona in just a few words it would be “clean frat boys”. Far too put together and academically driven to be real frat bros, however they always have different girls at their sides. Like I said-statues.

“Cool! That sounds…super fun” I try and sound like this wouldn’t be my first college party.

He smiles, clearly seeing right through me. He reaches out to the stack of post-its on the desk and grabs a pen from the cup next to it. He starts writing something down, which I come to see is the address.

“Great. See you tomorrow then?” He asks.

“Yep, I’ll be there!” I try not to sound too eager, but also how should you respond when someone you have never interacted with shows up and randomly invites you to a party?

He stops leaning on the counter and walks to the door. He looks back once more and grins, to which I smile back. I look down at the post-it with the address. It is then that I realize he came in and never looked around. Strange. He wouldn’t have come just to invite me to the party, right?

What a weird, weird day.

#enhypen #sim jaeyun #ao3 fanfic #college au #kim sunoo #lee heeseung #nishimura riki #park jeongseong #park sunghoon #vampire au #enhypen au #enhypen x reader

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wolfverse-stories · 1 year ago

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Magneto's Kids

Chapter 7

Wanda is by far the smartest of Erik's children so, of course, she has all honors classes, which means she has to study a lot. The week before a test she'll lock herself in her room with her notes and books. She refuses to come out for anything, so Erik put a mini fridge in her room so she wouldn't starve. Her brothers are always trying to get her to take a break but of course, she stubbornly refuses.

"Come on you've been stuck in that room for four days" Pietro started knocking on the door.

"Go away I'm trying to study" Wanda shouted as she grabbed another book. Pietro started knocking on the door at super speed for about an hour before he got tired and gave up. Peter's eyes shone as he got an idea.

"You know, I saw this thing where this guy moved his molecules fast he could phase throw walls" Pietro rolled his eyes.

"Was this in one of your comic books?" Peter nodded walking back from the door. "You realize this is never going to work" but Peter was already darting for the wall in less than the blink of an eye he crashed into the wall leaving a good-sized hole.

"PETER!!!!!!" Wanda's eyes turned red as her hands balled up into fists. 'That's not a good sign' Peter thought as he was surrounded by red energy.

"Wanda please just calm down I can explain" A blue streak darted past and in two seconds Pietro had placed the restraint bracelets on Wanda.

"Okay here's the deal sis, you are getting out of this room, you are going to relax and you are going to have fun," Pietro said grabbing her books and throwing them into a bag "And you can't have this back until you have four hours away from the house" Pietro threw the bag to Peter since he was the expert at hiding things. He hides Magneto's helmet at least once a day.

"I'll go to the library" Pietro shook his head "Movies?" Pietro nodded. Wanda sighed as she grabbed her coat. "Fine let's just get this over" Both speedsters cheered as they ran to the car.

"What movie do you want to see," Pietro asked as he pulled out of the driveway. Wanda carefully thought over this before she replied.

"Now you see me" Peter was happy he had wanted to see 'Now You See Me' ever since it came out Pietro was just glad it wasn't another love story.

"Okay we can go out for ice cream afterward" Pietro slowly pulled into the parking lot. Peter tried his best not to show how excited he was, this was his first time going anywhere with his older siblings.

Time skip

"That movie was amazing!" Peter shouted as they walked out of the theater. Wanda giggled at his childish behavior.

"Now is a pretty good time to go get ice cream," Pietro said dumping an empty mega-size popcorn bag in the trash. Peter nodded with enthusiasm.

"How can both of you still eat, you had a pack of gummies, two hot dogs, five candy bars, two large sodas, and a mega popcorn each" Wanda stared at them in shock.

"Super speed equals super metabolism" Peter pointed out as he darted for the car. By the time they got to the ice cream shop Wanda was ready for ice cream, she didn't get anything other than a drink at the theater to save room.

"Ok one Twinkie and cream icecream with strawberries, whipped cream, and chocolate syrup" Pietro announced as he handed Peter his ice cream "One raspberry cheesecake with chocolate chips and chocolate," he said handing Wanda her ice cream "And one coffee ice cream with chocolate and strawberries," Pietro said before taking a bite of his.

"Okay, I've got to admit this was a great idea" Wanda smiled as she took a bite of her ice cream.

"Hey, Peter did I ever tell you about the first time me and Wanda got Dad to eat ice cream?" Peter shook his head "When he first took a bite he loved it and started eating it way too fast, he got a brain freeze and thought he had been poisoned" Wanda nodded giggling.

"One time I was eating smarties and he thought I had taken drugs so he took me to the emergency room"They each took turns telling stories until about ten then they all went home curled up on the couch and played Go Fish until they fell asleep. Two days later Wanda got a hundred on the test and decided she would start taking more study

Prev. / Next

#wanda maximoff #xmen #dadneto #quicksilver #peter maximoff #scarlett witch #pietro maximoff #magneto #ao3 crossposting

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seabreeze2022 · 2 years ago

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2023 Bahamas Cruise, Part 16. April 7. Driving Long Island.

April 5th we rented a car and drove south to the end of Long Island. At 0800 start calling SeaSide Car Rental on VHF ch. 16. Many businesses here in the Bahamas handle business by VHF. Turns out she had gone to the airport.

Once we got the car, Nancy stopped at the Beauty Salon. Marcie who we met by chance a couple of days earlier gave her an appointment for the next day. Marcie will not only cut your hair, but set you up with fish or crawfish. As she was doing with her customer at the time. No she does not have the fish actually in the shop. That is the beauty salon in the fish market in George Town, Exuma does that.

This is Dolly Fox, Marcies Mother in law. Dolly and Basil own the dock that us cruisers are graciously allowed to use. Her son Roger fishes the Jumentoes and Ragged Islands, you can make an appointment for fish at the beauty salon.

Looking through the windshield of the rental car. Don’t you hate getting in a rental car and having to figure out where all the buttons and switches are. This car is driven from the right side, so the gear shift is on your left. My turn blinker is on the left in my truck. Consequently I turned on the windshield wipers all day long before turning. They kindly put a sign at the top of the window, reminding you to drive on the left side of the road. This is most important when turning on to a road from an intersection. The roads in Long Island have many a pot hole. After avoiding a couple of pot holes in a row, it is easy to end up with the old habit of driving on the right side of the road. To make matters worse, the oncoming car might be avoiding pot holes and is not on their side of the road. P.S. After getting in the first time, never saw the “Keep left” sign again.

The yellow building above is the tourist information building. After picking their brain and armed with maps we headed south. Of course trying to keep in the left lane.

The building on the right is the Museum of Long Island. Patsy Cartwright, the curator, was a wealth of stories. She told us where to find a flock of 50 flamingos and the map to get there.

These young ladies run the public library in Buckly. Lauren, on the right, used to work at Gordon’s bar. So when we got there we mentioned her name. More on Gordon’s below.

“Six degrees of Kevin Bacon” or on Long Island, “Two degrees of separation”. There is a little over 3,000 Bahamians on the island . Most are related somehow. We always ask what their last name is. Here Lauren connects us to Gordon’s Bar.

You can’t say you have been to Long Island, if you haven’t been to Hamiltons Cave. Leonard Cartwright gives tours through the largest cave on Long Island. We spent an hour with Leonard while he showed us one of the three types of bats. Blind crickets, termites trails winding down from above. Lucayan pottery, Money Bats which are the large moths we have in the Keys. This cave has been in his family’s property for generations. People would hide from hurricanes here.

Two degrees of Long Island separation: Just spent the day with James Knowles. We mentioned Leonard Cartwright. James says, yeah he is my cousin.

This cave is not on any tourist map. It is in the Dunmore settlement area. Caves in this area were used by the Lucayan Indians. Directions were given to us by Patsy. Sign…what sign? Address…what address? You go past the blue house on the right, look for a house under construction on the left. Next left is the road to the cave. So here is the real life interpretation of the above instructions we received. There is a blue house about every 2 miles. The house under construction was stopped at least 3 years ago and is now overgrown. Seriously, this island does not have a single address for a building. There are no mail boxes, only PO Boxes. They had a “party line” up until 1992. Salt Pond, one of the bigger settlements only recently received running water. All houses are set up with cisterns.

This is St. Peter and St. Paul’s Anglican Church in Clarence Town. Designed by the famous Father Jerome Hawes and built in 1908. It has twin 55’ towers. Which were purposely designed round like lighthouses. I find it interesting that the majority of older churches on the island all face East. The older graves are a good compass since they face east. Ready for the day of resurrection.

When you live in the islands you have to be inventive. I believe this is the local Jiffy Lube franchise. Note the rock on each ramp ready as a wheel chock.

“Slave canal”, there are two canals in town to flood inland ponds with seawater to produce salt. These canals were hand dug by slaves. Probably 5 ft wide and up to 15 ft deep in a few places. There must be hundreds of miles of dry laid rock walls on this island alone. Most done by slaves. The rock walls were used to fence in livestock and mark property boundaries. Some extend out into the water where it is shallow.

The lady at the tourist bureau, told us about the two flamingos at Doctor’s Pond outside Clarence Town. Flocks of flamingos migrate through each year. But one flamingo hurt its wing and can’t fly. One flamingo has stayed over the years to keep it company. The one on the right has its wing hanging down.

This is Charlie and his roadside straw work stand. Nancy sorted through several baskets and bought a small one for $18. Chickens were running everywhere and she asked about getting some eggs for her basket. No eggs today.

Patsy at the museum told us she saw 50 or so flamingos out at the abandoned salt ponds the week before. With map not drawn to scale, we go off roading with the KIA rental car. Among other things we drive down the abandoned runway on the right side of the photo. Carefully fallowing the map towards a beach with the hope of seeing the flock of flamingos. We are in the middle of nowhere. Only 3,000 people on the whole 57 mile long island. I am worried about the car breaking down. How do you explain where you are, when you don’t know where you are?

Here comes another car at us, on the only section of dirt levee we can pass on. Who would of thought that. We keep going. Turning here and there, looking for the lost flight of flamingos. Then we see a vehicle towards the end of the road. Great, at least if we break down they can help us!

You know what Nancy, that vehicle looks familiar. There are two people. One is wearing a familiar color shirt. I think they were parked on the beach while we were at the blue hole in the dinghy.

Two degrees of Long Island Separation: These two Americans rent a house here for vacation and bonefish from shore each day. We were within sight of each other 21 miles up the coast two days earlier.

Gordon’s Bar and Restaurant at the very southern end of Long Island. Earnest is the proprietor. He recently was in a vehicle accident, that has restricted his ability to run the restaurant.

Cracked Conch with peas and rice, with the Bahamas beer “Kalik”. Kalik is the sound of cow bells clanging during Junkanoo festivals. If you look closely at the label you will see two cow bells.

Two degrees of Long Island separation: This is Lori. She is just volunteering for Earnest and tends the tables. No Bahamian accent. Uh….Lori where are you from? She answers, Jamestown N.D.. She was a nurse in the USNavy. Nancy was a nurse in the USAF. She went to the same nursing college as Nancy’s good friend. Within a year or so of each other.

Nancy mentioned the story about meeting Lori to Marcie during her hair cut. Marcie said they had a Low Country boil at Lori’s house the week before. Two degrees!

This is the famous “Deans Blue Hole”. The second deepest blue hole in the world at 663 ft. . The white raft in the middle is where people conduct free diving competitions. The only person to scuba dive to the bottom did it in 1992, James King. The Bahamas Cave expert is Brian Kakuk. Here is a link to the youtube video he shot on side passages.

youtube

The red lines on the above photo are the caves heading off underground starting at 150 ft. With the blue hole at the top left next to the cliffs.

S/V Sea Breeze, Thompson Bay, Long Island, Bahamas

#seabreeze2022 #seabreeze2023 #exuma #Youtube

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mint-moon25 · 1 year ago

Video

youtube

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A - MIAMI BEACH - SHIRT - PLACE - NICE - $$$$ -

PRICES - HISPANIC - FEMALE - OWNER - SO - I -

AM - BUYING - HER - SHIRTS - BECAUSE - NICE -

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BUT - AFTER - I - TRANSFER - MY - LUGGAGE - 2 -

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SHOWERING - SHAVING - NOT - GIVEN -

BY - SHOPPING - MALLS - PUBLIC - YES -

RESTROOMS - ILLEGALLY - WITH THEIR -

SMALL - WATER - REGULATED - WATER -

PREGNANT FEMALES - LOOSING - THE -

BABIES - BORN DEAD - OR MANY YES -

PARTS - OF - BABIES - SEEN - SO - I’M -

EXCITED - ABOUT - A - NATION WHERE -

BABIES - SHOULDN’T - B - BORN EVER -

JESUS - IS - LORD

‘HAPPY - MEMORIAL - DAY’

UNITED STATES - AGE 245

#youtube

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hope-hui · 2 years ago

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Unit: Situated Studio Practices 2: The Independent Projects

Exercises

People's Experiences

Kayla (16)

My Dad passed away 5 months ago in April just 9 days before my 16 birthday. [...] A man finally entered the room holding a clipboard of documents. I prayed in my mind that everything would be fine and my dad would be awake in the room waiting for us. But, when the doctor told us he hated to be the bearer of bad news, I just sat there as he told us that my dad had passed away. I don’t remember much except the moments where I was brought to the room he was kept in. I hated how there were wires connected to him and a tube going down his throat. I couldn’t bare to look and he felt cold, unlike the warm feeling my dad usually had. Maybe a week after his death we finally found out my dad had a heart disease and died because of a blockage in his main artery causing him to have a heart attack. After my dads death, I found it hard to go to school yet I still managed. But I feel that a lot of people don’t understand what I’m going through and expect that now I shouldn’t be upset anymore which isn’t true. I know it’s hard and I still struggle today, but no one is alone and you shouldn’t feel ashamed to talk about how you feel or the loved one you have lost.

Michaela (24)

My family which consisted at the time of my parents, me, and my two younger brothers, were driving back home after church. My oldest brother needed to go to the library to work on some of his homework, and the rest of us went home. My mom had been sick with a virus for a few months at that point but she seemed to only be getting worse as time went on. [...] Then the death sentence came: Time of Death: 22:13." Coping for the next year or so was next to impossible and I hit rock bottom about 7 months afterwards, and took me another year to fully get out of that hole I was in. The pain of losing Mom is still there 5 years later and it is still just as intense as it was then, but I've gotten used to constantly bearing that pain 24/7/365.

Madison (13)

On July 28th, 2018 I lost my mom. The sherriff of my county came and knocked on my door while I was playing with my friend in the playroom. I thought my grandma had hit another telephone pole so I shrugged it off. When my grandma came to pick up all of my older and younger siblings except me and my older sister, I realized something was off. Me, dad, and my big sister headed to the hospital and he explained what had happened. I didn't shed a tear. My dad had said: “Hey Maddy I know you really love your mom so you have to come with us so she can see somebody. The Deputy hit her car.” I said “Okay Dad. I hope she's okay.” We drove an hour and a half to get to the hospital. We had gotten into the hospital at noon. I ran in and said my mommy was there. The nurse waited for my big sister and dad. My dad said the name and we were sent to a quiet room. The head doctor came in and said " I'm so sorry, she didn't make it." I was bawling but asked if I could see her. I got to give her a big hug and a kiss on the forehead. After that I haven't been quite the same. She was the biggest influence in my life. She was gorgeous and I'll admit, she wasn't perfect, but she was my mommy. In December My Uncle died, and My papaw died in March. I really wasn't ready for that. I don’t think I will ever be the same. In early July, my friend Danielle died in a car accident too. I will never think of anything like I did before. I will also never stop thinking about them. Grief is something you never fully go through, and that's okay. I loved them all, and the closure of knowing they loved me too, is what keeps me sane.

14 April 2023

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grass-skirt · 6 years ago

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thanks for answering my fisk ask! i appreciate it. can you think of characters that are good examples for a well done sympathetic villain? aside from fma's scar

Your welcome! (And sorry to other folks who’ve sent asks that I haven’t answered yet, but sometimes it’s easier for me to think of how to answer some questions than others and again time and energy are very limited resources for me these days) (And here’s the link to the preceding ask on my thought for what constitutes a sympathetic villain, how Scar is one, and how Wilson Fisk is not)

And let’s see here. If I had to think of some more well-done examples of sympathetic villains…

Meruem from HxH: amazing example. As someone not human, born not just socially, but biologically, to be king with the massive power to back it up and no reference point for what it meant to care or have feelings for others. And yet, he met someone who could best him in one thing, one simple thing, and slowly fell in love with her and through her uncovered the humanity no one thought he had. (Not to mention, he was manipulated by Pouf who tried to stamp out the love he had learned to feel and set him back on the path of a heartless conqueror, so we can also feel sympathy for his character on that front as well)

Tetsuo Shima from Akira: this is possibly a more (lowkey) controversial choice. Because yeah, he’s a 15-year old asshole who got psychic powers and became an even bigger asshole. But I feel like he’s an incredibly understandable character precisely because of that. To me, he’s an exploration of the effects that insecurity, powerlessness, poverty, and environmental instability can have on kids. Take a kid who feels miserable and doubts himself and isn’t supported by the society around him who wants desperately to be respected and in control and give him power… He couldn’t control his powers well, they caused him massive pain and made him fear what they would do to his mind and body. He could control through fear but he couldn’t control himself and that pain and uncertainty and fear never left him. One of the elements of a good sympathetic villain to me is that their choices make sense. And Tetsuo is a character whose choices were almost all bad, but IMO make sense from the sad, angry perspective of the view he had and the world around him. (Long ago I made a cool graphic about him)

Jasper from SU: now here’s an actual potentially controversial choice. Steering clear of the whole Malachite discourse and just focusing more broadly on her character, she was a huge jerk who beat the snot out of people and seemed to relish in it. She was the biggest villain in SU for a good long while, and there was little reason to think of her as sympathetic. That is, until we found out that the reason she hated the Earth and the Crystal Gems and was so fixated on strength is because thousands of years ago the Crystal Gems murdered the person she most loved and adored and the person she was literally created to serve. Then we start being able to see how her villainous beliefs and actions were shaped by the culture and society of the Diamond Authority that doesn’t give it’s members much in the way of choice or freedom. And then we also find out that the person who Jasper’s very existence was for had faked her own death and everything Jasper believed for the past 5000 years was a lie. Again, she’s a villain whose horribleness can be seen as a result of the circumstances around her, and we can see that if she had been told the truth and given different opportunities she perhaps could have been someone good instead of eventually devolving into a literal monster.

Eric Killmonger from Black Panther: he was someone who fought for a cause he believed him, and that was righteous and justified in his eyes. He grew up in poverty, his father was murdered, and he lived his life on the outside of a great society of wealth and equality, always aware of what they had but wouldn’t share with him or others who were also suffering. He looked at the imperialist, racist, oppressive actions of the world and thought, “Wakanda’s neutrality is acceptance of injustice. If the nation of my birth has the ability to reshape the world, punish the injustice of nations and societies, and give power to our oppressed people, we should do it.” T'challa’s view was that you can’t hurt and kill innocent people in the name of justice. Killmonger’s view was that harm, death, and suffering were constantly happening anyway, and that T’challa’s stance was accepting and tacitly endorsing this injustice. Again, his villainy came from a place of understandable suffering and genuine belief that fighting fire with fire was better than standing on the sidelines and simply watching the fire burn.

And two final characters:

Donquixote Doflamingo from One Piece gets an honorable mention. He could have been an amazing sympathetic villain, but for some reason Oda took a character who was born into a culture of ignorance, corruption, and greed, who lost everything and was tortured by angry mobs who blamed him for sins he hadn’t committed, who was then raised by a group of older boys and men who again groomed him and lead him down a road of villainy…. and then said, “Hey, this guy? Doflamingo? He was just born evil. Yeah, that’s it. He was born evil. So don’t worry so much about all the environmental stuff, because he was born evil anyway. Even his brother said so.” (Again, here’s a graphic and analysis I did on the subject for those who have forgotten)

Lady Eboshi from Princess Mononoke. (I also wrote a big post about her and the overall movie and how great it is.) She isn’t a sympathetic villain. Not really. She is both ends of the moral spectrum simultaneously in every move she makes. She was a monster, a destroyer of gods, an environmentalist’s nightmare who burned nature in the name of industry. She was also a savior, a humanitarian, a veritable saint who took in the sick and the downtrodden of society and gave them respect, empowerment, and a home they were happy in. And all the while… we never actually know what she’s thinking. One could argue that she’s still a villain (rather than simply an antagonist), but the key point here is that she is not sympathetic. Does she help others because she cares, or because through helping them she ultimately benefits herself? We don’t know for sure. The story does not invite us into her internal world. She’s not a sympathetic villain because we’re never asked to sympathize with her. Instead, we’re asked to think of bigger ideas. We’re asked to take a look at the ways human society can benefit itself, advance equality, and lift up the powerless by using and destroying the natural world around us. Is it worth it? What are the unintended consequences of these actions? Can humans harm nature without inevitably also hurting ourselves? Lady Eboshi’s thoughts and feelings and true motivations don’t matter. We don’t know, and we can’t know, and at the end of the day does it matter either way? Even if she was calculated and selfish it wouldn’t change that she’s helping people, and even if she was motivated by love and compassion it also wouldn’t change the harm she’s done. She’s a representation of ideas, forces, and choices larger than herself. Those ideas are what’s important to the film, and they are explored without ever diving into the mind of Lady Eboshi herself because what the thinks and feels has no bearing on the consequences of her actions.

A villain is someone who hurts others who do not deserve to be hurt. A person is sympathetic when we feel for them. Villainy is external. That person harms others, so we hate them. Sympathy is internal. We feel another’s pain, and understand the reasons for their choices, which includes the possibility that they never even had a choice at all. Lady Eboshi is so interesting to me because she is completely external. We are tasked with viewing and judging her based entirely on the consequences of her actions without factoring in what she thinks, what she feels, and why she’s doing it. We don’t have sympathy for her, rather we have sympathy for the people she helps regardless of whether Lady Eboshi is doing it out of kindness or doing it to benefit herself.

It’s odd that I spent the most time in this ask about sympathetic villains talking about someone who I think isn’t one, but I think that it’s both helpful and interesting to dive into how a character can completely subvert and dodge the label of a sympathetic villain while still fully capturing their contradictory essence. We hate and condemn the actions of sympathetic villains while also understanding them, respecting the “why” behind what they do, and potentially even loving them. With Lady Eboshi, we’re not supposed to care about the why. We’re not supposed to care about her. While I do love her, that’s not the part that matters. Instead, that same contradictory dynamic takes the form of the audience loving who she she helps while also loving who/what she hurts in the process. The thing’s we’re supposed to care about are entirely outside her.

I think that sympathetic villains are so interesting because they prompt us to think about why a person hurts others and see that something more than just innate evil is often there–that there are reasons why evil exists in villains’ hearts and that there are things that we can and should do about that. Whether it’s a character like Meruem who was “born” evil but learned to love and ultimately chose to embrace it, or a character like Scar who started out a decent young man who became a serial killer because of the genocide his people suffered. Either way, through them we are given an exploration of evil that emphasizes heartfelt understanding–understanding the “why” of evil so that we can either heal it or address the circumstances of its creation in the first place. If a sympathetic villain is well written and well handled in their story, the audience should be able to learn about the sources of evil in the world and how it could be made a little better.

#gs thoughts #princess mononoke #lady eboshi #studio ghibli #DAMN this took me a long time to write whoops #time to go hole up in the library and work for 7 hours #Anonymous #villains

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cowardnthief · 2 years ago

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10 actual ADHD study tips

from a student with ADHD

(or if you just have trouble concentrating)

1. put your phone in different room.

no, really. there can be any number of excuses not to (i use it as an alarm/timer, what if there's an emergency, but i use it during breaks) but i guarantee that you will focus better without the ability to check your social media. if you're genuinely worried about missing a phone call, don't put it on silent, and leave it across the room so you can hear it, but make sure it's out of reach.

2. invest in some noise-cancelling or muffling headphones.

they're a life-saver. i use them to help with sensory overloads, but now i wear them pretty much every time i study. regular headphones with some kind of neutral backing noise also work pretty well.

3. don't listen to music.

maybe somewhere, somehow, there exists a person who can actually listen to music and focus, but i've never met one. my adhd means i get distracted by anything. i'm a good multitasker, but not when the task requires lots of thought, like my science or math homework, or that english essay i've been putting off. if science is distracting for you as well, put on a neutral background noise (no, not lo-fi hiphop beats - unless that works for you). i usually put rain sounds or white or brown noise (the latter is my favourite).

4. break big tasks into small chunks.

you've probably heard this one before, but adhd makes tackling big tasks seem really daunting. like, where do you even start? before beginning a massive project, make a list of every little thing you need to do. it might seem stupid or excessive, but i can't stress how much it helps. it also gives you a sense of accomplishment whenever you knock a task off the list.

5. if you know you're gonna procrastinate, try and do it productively.

this one is one i'm still getting used to. i realised, after hours of sitting at my desk, not wanting to start on my essay but not wanting to actively NOT write my essay, and just generally feeling like shit, that it would have been better to spend those hours doing that thing i wanted to do (learn that song on my guitar, finally finish the painting sitting on my desk, write the poem that i had scribbled in my notebook a week ago). if you know you're not going to get started on your work, you might as well do something else that isn't as pressing but you still need to get done. it's okay not to be 100% productive al the time.

6. have a clear workspace.

this is a big one. i found that having a lot of stuff on or around my desk just makes me feel fenced in. i like to have 1 lamp, 1 cup of pens/pencils/highlighters, a cup of tea, tissues, and whatever i'm working on. when you're done with a task, PUT IT AWAY ASAP. that way, it doesn't build up, and you can feel ready to start on the next thing.

6.5. eliminate distractions.

i feel like this relates to the point above, but don't have lots of visible posters/lights/tempting tasks. maybe close your blinds or your door, or study in a library instead of your room if it is too bright and colourful.

7. the pomodoro method (organising your breaks).

LOVE LOVE LOVE THIS. the pomodoro method involves working for a consistent slot of time (usually 25 minutes, but whatever works for you) and then having a short break (5-10 minutes), and then a long break every 2-5 "slots" (15-20 minutes). if you don't trust yourself to stick to a timer, get a cute app on your laptop - there are heaps of different themes, and it will help you organise your time and tasks. instead of thinking about a task like "it will take me 2 hours", think about it like "it will take me 4 slots of time", and it will be much less daunting.

(note: for your breaks, try not to reach for your phone/social media. this is a rabbit hole. maybe draw for a minute, or read a few pages of a book. do something you can easily and quickly put away.)

8. organise yourself, but try not to hyperfixate on it.

apps like notion can be really helpful when organising tasks/your workspace, but they can also suck hours of your time away if you're not careful. not everything has to be perfect/meticulously planned, and you're not working on your homework by planning your weekly schedule. speaking from experience, it's really easy to get caught up in something that may feel productive, but really isn't.

9. this is really niche, but... for my reading-glasses wearers:

WEAR THEM WHEN YOU STUDY. i'm very mildly farsighted, which means wearing glasses when i read for long periods of time helps me prevent headaches. technically, i can go without them, and for a few years i usually did, but i've noticed that wearing them when i study has the benefit of getting me in the right headspace, and also stops me from looking up or around my room too often, as the prescription makes me dizzy when looking at things far away.

10. just get started.

i know you hate hearing this, but usually, knocking one or two things off your list can help you get motivated. often, things that seem really difficult or time consuming aren't as bad once you've gotten started.

good luck!

#gonna be so embarrassed if i post this and no one sees it but eh #i'll use it for myself #ironically i wrote this instead of studying #feel free to rb with your own tips #adhd #actually autistic #study tips #actually adhd #adhd in #neurodivergent #executive dysfunction #living with adhd #adhd post

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bxngchxn · 4 years ago

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Elevated || h.js

pairing: jisung x female!reader

wc: 2.85k

genre: friends to lovers, fluff, smut, college!skz

warnings: explicit content, fingering (f recieving)

description: stuck in an elevator with the cute boy from science class? you’re curious as to how the situation will escalate.

a/n: i am so sorry i said i’d post this last night and i never did but i am here to make it up to you (also some other works coming soon! keep a look out)

send me an ask if you’d like to be on the tag list!

this is a work of fiction and not meant for anyone under the age of 18

You really hate Mondays.

They’re always the longest, and for some reason things happen to go incredibly wrong on the first day of the week. Always.

Waking up and realizing you only have 10 minutes to get dressed and get to class, running across campus seems to be the only option if you want to make it there on time. The professor is strict, and won’t let you in even if you’re only a minute late to class.

You ignore the weird looks you get from students as you sprint across campus, just wanting to make sure today doesn’t get any worse.

The door to your classroom is already shut, and you know that if you try to walk in now, you’re going to be yelled at by the professor and kicked out anyway. It’s not a surprise to you, with the morning you’ve had, you kind of expected things to continue downhill.

Now having some extra time to kill, you head to the school cafe for a cup of (desperately needed) coffee, and then the library for some extra studying for your anatomy class that you’re going to walk into within the next hour and a half. It was your hardest class, and easily the most stressful one as well.

Luckily, your study session went uninterrupted and with no hiccups. Looking at your watch and realizing you need to get moving, you stand up from your spot at the library table only for a student walking by to knock into you, spilling your remaining coffee on your shirt. “Are you fucking kidding me?” you ask in your head, telling the girl who ran into you that it was fine, and that you’re okay once she started apologizing profusely. Of course, now not only are you running late again, but you have a giant coffee stain on your shirt.

“Are you alright?” You hear someone chuckle next to you, and you look to your left and see Han Jisung, looking at you with concern but also a slight bit of humor in his eyes.

You’ve spoken to him a few times, the two of you sharing your anatomy class. He’s cute, you think, with his bright smile and energetic attitude. You also had a few mutual friends, Seungmin and Changbin, so you had heard more about him than you’ve actually spoken to him.

“Yeah, Jisung, I’m just fine. Thank you for asking,” you quip back, and he arches an eyebrow at you out of curiosity.

“Seems like someone rolled out the wrong side of the bed today,” he says, and it makes you pout. “What makes you say that?” you say while looking away from him grumpily. “No reason, just saw you sprinting through campus out the window this morning, plus you’re like..covered in coffee” he says nonchalantly, and it makes you want to smack him. You both need to get to class though, and the thought makes you groan. “Ugh there’s no way I’ll be able to get to my apartment and change in time..” you say to yourself, looking down at the giant coffee stain on your shirt.

“Here,” Jisung says, and you look up to see him taking off his hoodie and handing it to you. “Jisung I can’t, it’s really okay I’ll just change after class,” you tell him. He shakes his head, and shoves the hoodie into your hands. “I don’t want you to have to sit through class like that,” he says. You slip the hoodie on over your shirt, relishing in the scent of his cologne and how it makes your head spin just a little bit.

Not wanting the coffee to stain the inside of Jisung’s hoodie, you quickly maneuver your arms inside the oversized piece of clothing, and take your shirt off while making sure Jisung’s hoodie still covers you. Pulling your coffee stained shirt out from the neck hole of the hoodie, you look at Jisung who is staring at you with wide eyes. Before you can laugh at his state of shock, Jisung speaks up. “Let’s go, we’re gonna be late!” He says, making his way towards the library exit.

You have no other choice but to follow him because he’s right, class is going to start and you’re not even in the science building. He notices you lingering behind and grabs your hand, leaving you completely shocked as he decides to take off once he steps foot outside, with you in tow. You try to keep up with him, stumbling over your feet while yelling at him to slow down, although it seems like he isn’t going to.

You make it inside the science building and book it up the stairs, praying that you’re not late. Seems as this time, luck is on your side. You and Jisung make it inside the classroom not thirty seconds before the professor does. The two of you exchange victory smiles, still catching your breath while the professor starts the lecture.

You tried to stay focused, but your eyes continued to wander towards Jisung every now and again. He managed to sit right where the sun was shining through the windows, and to put it quite frankly, his beauty was distracting. His tan skin seemed to be glowing, and he would bite his lip in concentration every now and again as he copied the notes from the board. Something about the way his lips looked made you want them against your own, and you were taken aback by your thoughts. You hadn’t even had a real conversation with him until two hours ago, and now you were thinking about kissing him? What is this feeling?

Your eyes move from focusing on his lips to his hands, watching the way they move as he takes notes. You can’t help but imagine what those hands would feel like on your body. His hoodie was warm enough, but you were sure his hands were something else.

You hear Jisung laugh quietly, and your eyes shoot up from their current focus to realize that Jisung had caught you staring at his hands. Your cheeks flush a bright red, and you turn your head back to the front of the classroom, hoping he’ll ignore it later.

“Well, thank god my classes are done for the day,” you say once you realize Jisung is waiting for you after lecture is over. Your cheeks are still a little pink, and you’re just waiting for the boy to make a joke about your obvious staring. Jisung laughs, too, and the sound makes you feel a little lighter. “Yeah I know right? Especially since the weather is getting cooler and I seem to have lost a hoodie,” he quips, and you playfully smack him on the arm. The playful smirk on his face sets something off inside of you, but you try and ignore it as much as possible.

“I told you I didn’t need it!” you say, and he shakes his head. “It’s alright, you don’t need to worry about it,” He insists, but it still doesn’t sit right with you. “No, no I feel bad. Here, come to my place really quick? I’ll change out of this and throw my shirt in the wash so you can have this back,” you ask him. “Well, I think I have some time...” he says playfully. You roll your eyes and lead him in the direction of your apartment building.

On the walk to your apartment, you get to talk to Jisung more than you ever have before.You definitely regret not getting to know him sooner. The stories you’ve heard about him definitely don’t do him justice, either. He’s really quick witted-- able to make you laugh harder than you’ve laughed in awhile. Pair that with his soft brown eyes and his bright smile, he’s basically a knock out.

Once you reach your building, Jisung opens the door for you and it just adds to the tiny feelings you could sense growing in your stomach for this boy. You walk up to the elevator and press the call button, and the presence of Jisung behind you waiting for the elevator makes the hairs on your neck stand up. He was really, really close to you, and you could feel his warmth radiating off of him. Not to mention you were still wearing his hoodie, the smell of his cologne fogging your senses.

The doors open, and you step inside first, turning around to press the button to head to the 9th floor. Jisung follows, standing next to you and leaning against the rail behind him. It’s quiet, but comfortable.

That is, until you hear a weird noise coming from the elevator.

You look up at Jisung to see if he heard it too, and the way his grip tightens on the bar behind him doesn’t go unnoticed by you. The elevator shakes, slightly, and out of reflex you move to grab onto Jisung. His arm goes around your waist, pushing you to him while keeping a hand on the bar holding him steady. Just like you thought, the elevator shakes more strongly and then comes to a stop. The lights go off for a moment, but the backup lights come on almost immediately, bathing the small space in a soft, dull light.

You let go of the breath you were holding once you’re sure the elevator isn’t going to plummet 7 stories. Jisung feels you relax in his hold, and moves away slightly to look at you. “Are you okay?” He asks you for the second time today, except this time his voice is very clearly concerned. “Yes, I’m fine. What happened? How are we gonna get out of here?” You say, checking your phone and realizing you don’t have any cell service.

Jisung steps away from you, letting his arm fall from your waist. You miss the feeling of protection, but watch him anyway as he makes his way over to the elevator door. Taking a look through the gap, you hear Jisung mutter some curses under his breath. “Looks like we’re stuck between floors, which is why your phone isn’t working,” he says, trying to further inspect the situation.

“So what do we do then? Sit here and wait for someone to come save us?” You ask, eyes wide. He shrugs, and turns back to the door. “Hey! Can anyone hear us? We’re trapped in the elevator!” He shouts, and it’s quiet for a moment before a stranger’s voice is heard from a few feet above you.

“We heard the rattling of the elevator! We’ve called maintenance and fire, but they said it’s going to be about 20 minutes until they can get here. We hope you’re okay!” The voice says. Jisung nods his head and yells a thank you to the stranger before making his way back towards you in the small elevator.

You’re happy to know that help is on the way, but what if something happens before they get there? What if the elevator -does- decide to fall before they can get there? You don’t want to live out your final moments in your college apartment’s elevator.

You start to freak out a little bit, and Jisung can sense it. “We’re gonna be okay, you know that right? Help is on the way,” he says, and moves to take a seat on the floor. You join him, hoping it will calm your nerves even just a little. “Yeah, I just hate elevators..” you say, and he doesn’t answer you. You want to say the quiet is calming, but you can’t help the anxiety you feel in the pit of your stomach. You start picking at the carpet of the elevator out of nervousness, and Jisung takes notice.

He scoots a little closer to you and grabs your hand, the size difference of his hands compared to yours is almost baffling. You feel that blush rise up again, reminded of what happened in class earlier. Jisung is playing with your fingers absentmindedly, both of his hands grabbing at them and lightly pulling them in different directions, the pad of his thumbs smoothing over the back of your palm. You can’t look at him, too embarrassed for getting worked up at the gesture.

It seems like God is out to get you today, because Jisung laughs that teasing laugh of his again, and this time a finger under your chin brings your head up to make eye contact with him.

“Y’know, I was going to let it go earlier, but now I don’t think I can..You seem to be pretty fascinated with my hands, huh baby doll?” He asks confidently, and the tone of his voice makes you want to jump down the elevator shaft out of shyness. The new pet name brings those same feelings back to your stomach, and you’re at a loss for words. Jisung takes notice of this, and his smile turns from playful to something a little more serious.

‘Awe now why are you getting shy? You sure weren’t when you were checking me out in lecture earlier,” Jisung says, his tone condescending as he moves closer to you. “I promise, Y/N, I’m not going to bite. I mean, not unless you want me to,” he whispers. He’s not even an inch away from your face, and now you can’t seem to break eye contact with him. His hand moves from your jaw to the back of your neck. “If you don’t want this, you need to tell me..” he insists, but you don’t even need to think twice. “I want it. I want you.” you say quietly, and that’s enough for him to close the distance and pull you on top of him.

Being seated on Han Jisung’s lap is nothing short of an out of body experience. His lips are soft against yours, nipping at your bottom lip and asking for entrance which you gladly grant him. The kiss is fast and passionate and full of tongues but neither of you seem to care. You can’t think of anything except that you were right; the feeling of his hands roaming your body is better than you could’ve imagined. By now your fingers are tangled in his hair, pulling slightly every now and again and listening to the beautiful sounds of Jisung groaning against your lips.

“You are absolutely gorgeous,” he says, his fingers trailing to the button of your jeans. You busy yourself with moving your hands underneath his tshirt, his skin warm and soft under your fingers. You can feel the ridges of abs that you didn’t know existed, and as Jisung is whispering sweet nothings into your ear, you whine at the sensation of his fingers that have found their way into your underwear.

“You look so pretty like this for me,” Jisung continues, his fingers rubbing circles on your clit in slow circles as you whine at him. “I knew I wasn’t going to be able to control myself the moment you slipped this damn hoodie on. You look so small, baby.”

You’re sure that you’re going crazy the more that Jisung talks to you. In order to preserve even the tiniest bit of your sanity, you connect your lips to his once more. You hear him chuckle into the kiss, Jisung sensing your urgency as you grind down onto his fingers with a newfound energy.

“You really like my hands that much, huh? Gonna get off just on my fingers baby?” He asks once again, this time inserting a finger into your core. You moan at the new sensation, but Jisung isn’t having it. “Words, baby. Tell me how you’re feeling,” He orders, and something about his tone sends you up a wall. “S-so good Jisung.. I.. fuck,” you breathe out.

Jisung snaps back to reality for a moment and remembers: You’re on a time crunch. Maintenance could get the elevator back up and running at any moment. He adds another finger inside of you and quickens his pace at the same time. The speed has you reeling, the knot in your stomach tight but not quite ready to snap.

“I need you to cum for me baby, someone could walk in any minute. We don’t need anyone else seeing how much of a slut you are for my fingers alone, now do we? Or would you like that?” He asks, and the idea has you clenching around him. Jisung senses this, and laughs. “Something to keep in mind for another time,” he says to himself. You bury that comment at the back of your mind, focusing on the pleasure that’s rising in your core.

Once Jisung starts rubbing harsh circles on your clit, the combination of that and his fingers inside you has you arching your back. To Jisung, you are the most ethereal being on the planet right now; the soft light of the elevator highlighting your features, making you look oh so beautiful and almost unreal as your orgasm washes over you.

Jisung helps you ride out your high, your hips slowly coming to a stop as you begin to catch your breath. “Th-thank you, Jisung..” you say quietly, moving your hair out of your face. “Trust me, baby doll. The pleasure was all mine,” he chimes, and a small laugh leaves your lips as you finally gain your composure once again.

The two of you stay sitting like that for a few minutes, basking in the glow of this new found relationship until you hear voices a few feet above you again. “Hello? Are you alright in there? This is the fire department, we’re going to get you out of there, don’t worry.” The faint voice says. You both sigh in relief, Jisung’s arms falling around your waist once again.

It doesn’t take long for the elevator doors to be opened, and you’re both pulled up by the firemen who came to your rescue.

Once safe and sound, it doesn’t take long for you to pull Jisung into your apartment to make up for something very, very important, either.

#stray kids scenarios #stray kids smut #han jisung scenarios #han jisung smut #bxngchxn fics #skz smut

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arotechno · 4 years ago

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Jughead (2015), Issues 7-8: Discussion and Commentary

Boy oh boy am I excited to talk about this arc!! These two issues hold a very special place in my cold little aro heart.

(By the way, do you see that? I managed to get a digital copy from my library via Hoopla, which means you are spared from my shitty phone grabs. I’ll fix the previous post, don’t worry. Try clicking on the screenshots if tumblr blurs them. And try Hoopla, if you’ve got a library card and have been looking to read these.)

Fed up with him sitting around the house playing video games all summer, Mr. Jones forces Jughead to get out of the house and do something outside. Jughead finds Archie at the pool where he’s working as a lifeguard, and convinces him to take time off to go camping in the woods with him at their friend Dilton’s cottage.

They take Archie’s car out to the woods, only to find that the lake is overrun with Reggie’s over-the-top relatives at the Mantle family reunion. Horrified, Jughead and Archie go out on a hike to get away. This is where things go downhill—literally.

Jughead calls Archie out for his growing fixation with Veronica Lodge, whose father is the one trying to clear out Fox Forest. Archie immediately goes on the defensive, but Jughead, understandably, really doesn’t get it. And here’s where we see that this is a divide that has been brewing between them for quite some time, even if Archie seemingly had no idea it was happening.

The boys end up getting lost, which only serves to fuel their frustrations. It occurs to Jughead, some time later, that the lake they’re camping at is not that far from Camp Lucey, an all-girls summer camp. Shocked and hurt, he accuses Archie of only agreeing to go on the trip to pick up girls, and not to hang out with him. He tackles Archie and they tumble down a hill into the woods below.

This is a really interesting story, from an aro’s perspective. Jughead can’t relate to Archie’s teenage obsession with girls, and it isn’t something they can bond over like other friends may have been able to do. On a simple level, all Jughead really wants to do is hang out with his best friend, just the two of them, just like old times—back when they were younger, before Archie’s interest in girls seemed to take over his every waking moment. Importantly, Jughead never objects to Archie’s romantic pursuits on principle (he does have an issue with Veronica, but that has to do more with her father’s actions than her). It isn’t that he wants to stand in the way of Archie’s happiness—he just feels left behind, and that’s something I think a lot of aromantic people, teenagers especially, can resonate with.

Eventually, Archie and Jughead run into Mr. Weatherbee of all people, who begrudgingly offers to help lead them back to camp. It’s at this point that we get one of my favorite moments in the entire series, one that I have waxed poetic about on this blog before and probably will again.

Archie insists that he is in fact here to hang out with Jughead, and that he’s just being dramatic. Jughead, on the other hand, insists that Archie’s the one being dramatic with his love triangle problems, to which Archie replies:

“Look, I’m not going to apologize for being a normal guy, I—”

And Jughead’s reaction to those words has stuck with me since the first time I read this. He’s shocked, hurt, and clearly a little angry that Archie would say something like that. And it’s a subtle moment, one that you might not even feel the gravity of if you didn’t know that Jughead was aro. What’s most important here, though, isn’t Jughead’s reaction, but the fact that Archie is clearly in the wrong, and he knows it. He tries to backtrack immediately (“Jughead! I didn’t mean it like that! Wait!”), but Jughead ignores him, as Mr. Bee has already gotten them lost again.

This singular page is, to me, a deeper and more nuanced portrayal than many works with “on-the-page” canon aromantic characters. This arc isn’t about Jughead being aro (in fact, none of the comics particularly are). But this is a meaningful incorporation of Jughead’s orientation into his daily life and his relationships with other people—namely, with his best friend. Although Jughead is being somewhat harsh with Archie, never does the narrative place him in the wrong for feeling abandoned, hurt, or angry because of Archie’s words and actions. Even Archie, his best friend, is capable of saying things that hurt him, and his words in this scene are never excused or justified by the narrative.

It also means a lot to me that Archie apologizes the second he gets the chance to, and that Jughead is quick to forgive him and explain that he just misses the time before Archie was so obsessed with girls. I wouldn’t want the story to just turn into a feud between them. You know when you’re on a trip with your friends and you get lost and you’re tired and frustrated you just end up airing your grievances and coming out of it with a new understanding of your friendship while trying to solve the mess you’re in? That’s what this arc is.

Anyway, after a run-in with Reggie’s relative and Mr. Weatherbee’s old high school bully Ted Mantle, the trio manage to make it out of the woods—after several hours of walking until the sun has come up. There, they find that Camp Lucey has actually been renamed, and is now a camp for elementary school girls, where Betty happens to be working. So after all of that, Archie just ends up making a fool of himself, like usual. Mr. Bee’s wife drives over to rescue them and brings the boys back to Dilton’s cottage, where she remarks that she’s heard a lot about Archie and Jughead, and that they’re inseparable.

At its core, this is a story about friendship. It’s about the difficulties that come with realizing you can’t always relate to each other, and you can’t always read each other’s minds, and you sometimes say the wrong thing without meaning to. It’s a story about growing up, but not necessarily growing apart, and being able to reconcile your differences.

Archie assumes that after all of their bickering, Jughead would just want to go home and not hang out with him anymore. But turning back now would be contrary to what Jughead wanted in the first place, which was just to hang out with his best friend.

All’s well that end’s well, and Jughead and Archie patch things over and vow that they will always be best friends. It’s a wholesome moment, and reflects a common struggle for aspec teens that I rarely see addressed in media, if at all. Sometimes, it feels like your friends are all moving on without you, and sometimes they don’t even realize it when they’ve been neglecting your friendship. It takes communication to work these things out, and I’m happy to see that illustrated here.

This arc is my favorite, I think, and there’s reasons for that even outside of the aspects I’ve already detailed here. The kids getting lost in the woods on summer vacation is a fun way of framing the deeper story, and there are a lot of funny and endearing moments in these two issues. (Archie falls on his face, a lot, and Mr. Weatherbee is stoically exasperated with both of their antics.)

These are the last issues written by Chip Zdarsky. So shoutout to him for some of the most nuanced representations of aromanticism in fiction to date, even if he never wrote the word down on the page (I’ll get to that, don’t worry). But these are the first issues illustrated by Derek Charm, whose art style I love (no offense Erica Henderson), and the rest of the volume has a lot of other good aro moments in store. Until then, here’s himbo Archie:

See? Pure of heart, dumb of ass. You can’t be mad at him for long. (He falls into a hole later on the same page.)

Yeah, me too.

#woo!!!#techno's jughead reread #aro #aromantic #aro jughead #ace jughead #aroace jughead #jughead jones #jughead comics #long post #op

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helliontherapscallion · 4 years ago

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Warmth (Adrenaline Junkie Part 6)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: Self harm scars, mentions of panic attacks and hallucinations

Word count: 2,842

(A/N): This takes place about 6 months after the last chapter. Also, I was heavily inspired by Toothless’ prosthetic, I’m really excited to write more about it : )

You hummed to yourself as you walked down the cobblestone street of the village. The village was probably one of your favorite places to visit; it had quaint little shops and stalls decorating the main plaza that you adored, it was always interesting to see what’s being sold today. Though you always wore your cloak to cover your wings (well, wing and a now-feathered nub) whenever you visited to avoid the stares, you still regularly visited the main plaza for the shops.

The first time you visited after the incident was about a month ago with Wilbur, you two were looking for something to cook for dinner. You were trying to get used to having your wings out again, so you were wearing the jacket with the slits in the back that you always used to wear.

The feeling of people staring holes into you was a feeling you forgot about. You always got stares whenever you went into the village because of your wings, but now it felt like more and more people were staring at you as you passed them, probably because of your nub. Though some looked at you in pity, most looked at you with disgust.

You could hear children asking their mothers what happened to you. Their mothers would take one look at you and shield their children away from you staring at you with disgust. You even made one kid cry when he saw your wing; you didn’t blame him, you still couldn’t look at your nub without tearing up. An hour hasn’t even passed before you were asked by a police officer to leave because you were causing a disruption and being indecent in public.

Wilbur was pissed. “They’re fully clothed and they didn’t even talk to anybody, so how exactly were they being disruptive or indecent?”

The officer firmly held her ground, looking up to Wilbur’s tall form. “Sir, the people are complaining and it’s my job to make the public feel safe and comfortable. Look,” she sighed, “I really don’t want to have to ask them to leave, they’re not doing anything to directly threaten people. However, they are causing a disturbance with their,” she wrinkled her nose, “their thing, so I’m going to have to ask them to leave.”

“You have absolutely no right to tell them to leave. They-”

“Wilbur, it’s fine. I’ll leave,” turning back to the officer, you calmly stated “I’m sorry for causing a disturbance ma’am. It won’t happen again.”

She curtly nodded and stood watching you, probably making sure that you left the main plaza. Before you could turn to leave, Wilbur stopped you.

“(Y/n)-”

“No, Wilbur. It’s alright, I can wait outside the village for you.”

He sighed, looking through his leather satchel. “No, you won’t have to wait for me. We’ve got enough food for dinner anyways,” shooting one last heated glare at the police officer, he reached down to grab your hand. “Let’s go.”

He drug you quickly through the village with you having a little trouble keeping up with his long strides. Once you were out of the village, he slowed his pace and walked with his hands shoved in his pockets.

“(Y/n), I’m sor-”

“Don’t be Wil. It isn’t your fault. I honestly was expecting to get kicked out earlier.”

“Still, it’s not fair to you. You didn’t ask for this.”

“I know Wil, I’ll just wear my cloak next time I visit.”

He didn’t say anything to you after that. The rest of the walk home was shrouded in an awkward silence.

Another part of the village you loved was the library. It had tall shelves filled to the brim with all sorts of books and various cushioned furniture littered randomly amongst the maze of shelves. Whoever would walk into the library would immediately be hit by the strong scent of parchment and wood as soon as they would walk through the twin doors. You would usually browse books about redstone, but you had a different agenda today.

Today, you were looking for a book about leather working. You wanted to make a leather prosthetic wing so you could at least glide through the air. You weren’t sure if it would work though. From what you’ve read, nobody’s attempted to make a prosthetic wing. It made sense, being a hybrid was rare in and of itself, let alone a winged hybrid.

You missed flying more than anything. You would give anything to be able to be in the air again. You felt jittery and restless without flight. Sure, Philza took you on some flights with him every now and then, but it wasn’t the same. You yearned for the independence and liberation it gave you to fly alone.

After you found a book and checked it out with the librarian, you hastily set out for home. You were walking with a giddy smile on your face and a bounce in your step. Several people gave you strange looks as you passed them, but you were in too good of a mood to care. You finally figured out a way you could possibly fly again.

When you got home, you headed straight to your workshop to get to work on your prosthetic. Several blueprints were hung up around your desk, some for your TNT launcher (which you finished a few weeks ago) and others contained ideas for an automatic farm. Your pride and joy was hung up in the center of your bulletin board. It made you extremely happy just by looking at the prosthetic sketch.

Your redstone lamp illuminated the space in front of you as you focused on cutting a large strip of leather in front of you with great concentration. You needed to get the measurements exactly right, equal sized wings are integral for stability midair. The prosthetic was going to be about the same size as your left wing with thin iron rods giving the wing structure. You planned on making it identical to a bat’s wing with a few minor changes in shape to match your other wing. Once it actually was structurally sound and working, you would add proper joints so you could wear it around and decorate it. Until then, you’re making adjustments.

When you were done, you moved on to crafting and melding together the iron rods. Putting on your goggles and thick leather gloves, you used a bit of lava your family kept stored in another room in the basement to fuse the thin iron rods together. You carefully dipped one end of two rods into the bucket before pulling it out at a certain time to hold the molten ends together until they cooled. You repeated this process until you were melding the last piece on.

“HEY BITCH, DINNER’S READY. GET IT WHILE IT’S HOT!”

Yelping, you dropped the mold onto your desk. You picked it up in a panic without paying attention to where your arms went. Unknowingly, your sleeved arm was pressing up against the scorching iron of the bucket of lava.

“FUCK YOU YA FILTHY GREMLIN, A LITTLE WARNING WOULD’VE BEEN NICE!”

He started cackling. “FUCK YOU TOO! NOW GET UP HERE BEFORE I EAT YOUR DINNER.”

“YOU BETTER FUCKING NOT. I SWEAR TO- FUCK!”

You felt the nerves on the side of your forearm screaming as you yanked it away, leaving the crisp remains of a part of your sleeve stuck to the iron bucket. Two pairs of footsteps boomed down the steps and got louder as they rapidly approached you.

Wilbur’s deep voice worriedly called out to you. “Shit, (y/n) are you alright? Let me see.”

Before you could protest, he gently grabbed your wrist and pulled the sleeve of your jacket down. Adjoining the light burn, small horizontal scars and some fresh cuts lined your forearms. Shit, they were never supposed to find out.

Wilbur’s hand froze, gripping your wrist with an iron grip. You hissed at the feeling of some of your cuts reopening, causing him to quickly retract his hand. He now had his hands hovering over your arm unsure of what to do with them.

“(Y/n), wha-” Tommy cut himself off once he saw the panicked look on his older brother’s face. Following his gaze, his wide eyes met with your cuts.

You sighed, prying the goggles off from your face and pulling the gloves off from your hands. You put on a calm exterior, contrary to what you felt on the inside. They were never supposed to know. “Listen, you guys weren’t supposed to find out about this. None of you were. Please don’t tell Dad or Technoblade, I don’t need more people knowing.”

Tommy spoke up with an incredulous look. “(Y/n), what do you mean? We can’t just not tell them.”

“I know. Please, do it for me? Everything’s finally going back to normal and this will just make everything worse again. I promise I’ll stop, I swear.”

The two brothers looked at each other silently contemplating what they should do. On one hand, you were their sibling and you were hurting yourself. They needed to tell their dad that you were cutting. You only had two lives left and you could kill yourself doing that. Philza and Techno could help. On the other hand, they wanted you to feel normal in your own home. You were right in the fact that everything was starting to feel like it did before the incident. Plus, they would gladly help you through it.

They looked back at you with apprehensive expressions, speaking at the same time.

“(Y/n), we’re not gonna tell Dad or Techno.”

“We’re telling them.”

Tommy whipped his head up to look at his brother angrily. “Wilbur, we need to tell them.”

“Tommy, no-”

“Are you fucking stupid? Of course we have to-”

“Tommy. We don’t because I’ll be taking every sharp object away from them tonight. We’ll watch them and check their wrists to make sure that there’s no new cuts and they stay clean. We’ll help them.”

“But- they,” Tommy gave a frustrated sigh. “Fine. But we at least have to tell Techno about this. He can help us.”

Wilbur glanced at you with apologetic eyes. Before he could speak up, you interrupted him. “...Alright, as long as Dad doesn’t find out. He has enough to stress out about and he doesn’t need to worry about me again. Now, can we go upstairs for dinner? We’ve been down here for long enough already and Dad’s probably wondering why. Tell him that I’m gonna go clean up.”

Without giving them any room to argue, you speeded up the stairs and into your room. Closing the door and leaning your back on it, you let your calm facade drop into a panicked one. Shit, what if Tommy tells Dad? What were you supposed to do then? He’ll take away what little freedom you had left and you’ll be sinking into the depths of your depression again.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock and Philza’s voice. You held your breath as you prepared yourself for him to tell you that he knows your secret. “Hey hun, Wilbur and Tommy told me that you burned yourself,” you let out a relieved sigh. “Do you need me to look at it?”

Panic once again flared in your bloodstream. “N-no Dad, it’s just a little burn. I’ll be down in just a second I’m changing.”

“You sure? I can get you a potion.”

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“...Alright,” he sounded skeptical. “Just hurry up, dinner’s getting cold.”

The sound of his retreating footsteps sounded like music to your ears. You closed your eyes and took a few deep breaths before you moved to put on a long sleeved shirt.

Dinner was uncharacteristically quiet without Tommy, you, or Wilbur talking. Philza tried to carry the conversation with you four, but only Technoblade gave full responses. You, Tommy, and Wilbur only supplied a few words to a conversation when prompted.

Technoblade was suspicious. Sure, you and Wilbur were quiet sometimes, but Tommy? Tommy’s always loud and rambunctious. Something’s wrong, but what? What could’ve happened when Tommy and Wilbur went to go get you for dinner? They weren’t gone for long. He did hear you screaming profanities at Tommy for scaring you and overheard Tommy telling Philza about how you burned yourself, but how is that something that would shut you three up? He was going to confront his siblings after he finished tonight’s dishes.

Meanwhile, you, Tommy, and Wilbur were in your room. You were giving them your iron dagger.

“Is this all?”

“Yeah, Tommy. That’s all, search my room if you don’t believe me. I wouldn’t mind, I don’t have anything to hide from you anymore.”

They did just that. Looking under your bed, in your drawers, in your closet, and in the chest you kept for your supplies. You watched them propped up on your bed. While you were angry with yourself that you were so careless, you felt warm that they cared about you. They were great brothers.

After they were done turning your room upside down, Wilbur plopped down next to you and Tommy threw himself over your legs. You three laid there for a while just enjoying each other’s presence. It was nice to spend some time with your brothers, you didn’t get much free time to spend with them because you spent most of your time in your workshop.

The silence was broken by Tommy. “...So, how do you wanna go about telling Technoblade?”

“I’m… not exactly sure. Do we even have to tell him?”

Wilbur pursed his lips. “Even if you didn’t want to, I’m pretty sure he knows something’s up. He’s good at picking up on social cues.”

“Well if that’s the case, I might just wait until he comes to me. It’ll be easier.”

Your door swung open to reveal your piglin hybrid brother. He looked at you with a single eyebrow raised as his ear flicked. “What were you planning on telling me?”

Tommy and Wilbur looked at you expectantly. You shifted your body closer to the wall making room on your bed for him. He walked over and stiffly sat on the edge of your mattress. He gestured for you to talk to him. You slowly slid your sleeve down and showed him your arm. Besides his eyebrows slightly crinkling, he was as stoic as ever when he reached out to grab your wrist for a better look.

On the inside, the voices were almost as loud as when you died. They were nearly incoherent as several angry voices mixed together yelling at him for not noticing anything was wrong with you, the kid he vowed to protect when you first stole his crown and replaced it with a homemade paper one. Outside of the voices, he was furious at himself, he was supposed to protect you. He ran his fingers along the raised lines, gently tracing over every scar and scabbed over cut as if memorizing where every single one lays.

His monotone voice was gruff. “How long? Why?”

“About eight months now. I-I didn’t feel anything for a while after I respawned and I realized that pain helped me feel. It helped ground me when I hallucinated or had panic attacks.”

“...Do you feel anything now?”

“Yeah, I’m getting better Tech. I’m hallucinating less and I’m getting better at managing anxiety attacks. At this point, it's just a habit that I can’t drop.”

“Do you want to drop it?”

You fell silent. You never really considered stopping before. Before, you would do it to give yourself something to focus on when you were overwhelmed, but now you would do it out of habit. It somehow felt wrong when you skipped a session and it usually threw your entire day off. You would feel drained for the entire day if you didn’t do it. It was one of the only consistent things in your life.

“(Y/n), c’mon you don’t want to keep doing this, right?” Tommy asked before Wilbur reached over and slapped him upside his head.

“I think,” you breathed out, unsure of yourself, “I want to get better.”

Techno looked at his brothers. “Did you two take their blades?”

Tommy held up the iron dagger and wove it around haphazardly in the air. Techno reached over and pocketed the dagger before discarding his golden crown and placing it on your nightstand. He took off his weighted fluffy cloak and neatly draped it over a nearby chest. He maneuvered his body so that he was laying on your other side and wrapped a lazy arm over your chest.

With Wilbur on your right side with your wing draped over him, Tommy laying on your stomach with Wilbur reaching down to hold him, and Techno pulling you close to his body, you were pleasantly warm. You were slowly drifting off, being lulled to sleep by Techno’s slow heartbeat. You blissfully fell asleep surrounded by your brothers’ love.

Inspo for the cuddle pile (credit goes to og artist, zillychu): https://zillychu.home.blog/tag/heart-squad-cuddle-pile/

Taglist (comment if you want to be added):

@acecarddraws @goldenstarofthunderclan @ravennightingaleandavatempus @dirtydiavolo @yeiras-world @immadatmostthings @hee-hee-haw @jackalopedoodles @m1lkmandan @vanhakirja @im-a-depressed-gay @coolleviauchihadreamerlove @questioning-sanity @camisascam

@bongwaterflavoredgatorade @kakamiissad @jayistrash @lifestylesleep @speedymaximoff @sun-shark-tooth @appetiteofapeoplepleaser @starchildnatalya @kinismanditory @dragons-lurk-here @rinzyx05 @the-wandering-pan-ace @sparkling-gayyyy @angelic-scent @shinipii @dont-hug-me-im-a-fander @izzydimensional @used-avocado

#sbi x reader #platonic #philza x reader #technoblade x reader #wilbur soot x reader #tommyinnit x reader #sibling reader #platonic cuddle pile #platonic cuddling #hurt/comfort #mcyt x reader #mcyt #sbi #tw: scars #tw: hallucinations #tw: panic attack #tw: self harm

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the-scandalorian · 4 years ago

Text

Tempered Glass: Chapter 7

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader Rating: M (will become explicit) Word Count: 5.5k Warnings: slow burn, canon-typical violence, cursing, pining, Din in suspenders, fluff Summary: Din takes a job with his old crew, and you and the kid wait for him on Arvala-7. Notes: Sorry this took me forever!

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

Image from The Art of Star Wars: The Mandalorian

After you left the atmosphere of Tatooine and jumped into hyperspace, Din swiveled his chair around to face you in the copilot’s seat.

“I should take a job. Everything we made went to Peli, and I don’t like being low on credits. There’s a crew I used to run with...I can reach out to them...” he hesitated then added, “but you and the kid can’t come with me.”

“What do you mean I can’t come with you?”

He sighed, shoulders dropping. “I mean, I don’t trust them enough for you and the kid to come.”

“If you don’t trust them, wouldn’t it be better to have backup?”

“I just—,” he looked away, “I don’t want them to know either of you exist.”

“If you don’t trust them, should you be taking a job with them?”

“We don’t have a lot of options.”

“I could get work somewhere. We could go somewhere safe enough for a few weeks. There are some places where I have contacts, and non-bounty hunting work is usually less conspicuous.”

“I don’t think we should stay anywhere that long right now.”

“But—”

“I’ll feel better if you and the kid are safe together.”

“I—”

When he bowed his head in a silent appeal, your determination crumbled.

“Ugh, fine.”

He sighed in relief, reaching out to rest his hand on your knee briefly. His touch was reassuring.

“But, just so you know, this is only going to work once, so don’t think that my staying back with the kid is going to be a regular thing.”

He removed his hand and turned back around to face the viewport.

“I am taking your silence as tacit agreement,” you said to the back of his helmet.

He chose to ignore that, fiddling with the controls instead.

***

Now that you’d both admitted you wanted to stay together, abandoning the pretense of strategy and convenience all together, things were a little off between you and Din. Neither of you were used to being vulnerable, so conversations were slightly stunted again. You found yourself being overly polite, and Din was doing the same.

That first night back on the Crest, he offered you his bunk.

“I’m not taking your bed. You need it to take off your helmet.”

Besides the unshakable lingering chill of the hull, sleeping there wasn’t that bad. You usually slept with every sweater you owned on and that kept you warm enough.

“Use it when I’m not. You shouldn't have to sleep on the floor.”

“Sure, thanks,” you agreed, knowing you’d never take him up on that. You didn’t want to be on a different sleep schedule than he and the kid.

You did try to nap with the kid in Din’s bunk the next day because there wasn’t all that much to do in hyperspace. As soon as you lay down, though, you knew it was a mistake. First of all, it was crazy uncomfortable (somehow not better than the literal floor and the close walls made it slightly claustrophobic), and second—and far more importantly—it smelled overwhelmingly like Din. It smelled like his pine-y soap and beskar and blaster residue and leather and whatever else made up his infuriatingly good scent. It conjured images of crackling fires and golden skin and warm embraces and taut muscles.

Shit.

There was no chance you were going to be able to fall sleep when all you could think about was him.

The kid, on the other hand, was snoozing contentedly beside you. When you’d fully given up on napping, you edged your way out the bunk carefully, doing your best not to wake him.

Din was sitting in the hull on a long crate against the wall, cleaning his blaster, the pieces spread out next to him. Usually, when you were in the hull at the same time, you’d find a place across from him. Instead, you purposefully sat next to him, drawing your knees up to your chest and leaning against the wall.

You decided you were going to push through this awkward phase and make things not weird right there, right then. And you were going to do that the best way you knew how.

He tilted his helmet toward you momentarily then refocused on the blaster in his hand.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yes,” he said, running a rag along the barrel.

“How does one develop a catchphrase? Does it happen organically or is there an iterative brainstorming process?”

Din paused, sighing dramatically, set his blaster and the rag down next to him, and pushed himself back until he was also leaning against the metal wall. His helmet clunked slightly as he relaxed it back. “This is the way is not a catchphrase. It’s a tenet of the Creed.”

“And ‘I can bring you in warm or I can bring you in cold’ is also a tenet of the Creed?”

He lolled his helmet to the side, looking down at you. “Okay, fine, that one isn’t,” he conceded.

“So you admit it—you have at least one catchphrase that you regularly use on bounties.” You smirked up at him.

Without missing a beat, Din fixed you with that unreadable visor and quipped: “I’ve been told I have a sexy voice. I’m just giving the people what they want.”

Your jaw dropped, a shocked laugh echoing through the hull. You had planned on teasing him and had not expected him to turn it around on you so smoothly.

“Uh... I was sort of hoping we’d stick to our unspoken agreement to not bring up the stupid things I said when I was drunk.” You looked down at your hands, suddenly unable to meet his gaze.

“Oh, definitely not.”

You looked back up. “Alright, well then in the name of fairness, we’re going to have to get you really drunk the next time the opportunity presents itself, so we can see what embarrassing things you say.”

He paused for a moment, considering, then said, “Does that mean you’ll carry me home?”

You cracked a smile, nodding vigorously. “Of course. That would only be fair.”

A warm laugh rasped through the modulator. You crossed your ankles in front of you, letting your knee rest against the cold beskar on this thigh.

“I feel skeptical of that promise.” He dropped a gloved hand to your knee.

“Okay, okay I can’t promise to carry you home, but I can promise to tie your shoe if needed.”

“My boots don’t have laces.” He lifted a foot off the ground to show you.

You shrugged playfully: “Well, that’s not my fault.”

“This doesn’t sound like a very good deal for me. I tied your shoe and carried you home.”

“To be fair, both were against my will.”

“But necessary.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Okay, okay, I can’t carry you, and I can’t tie your shoe... so I’ll...,” you bit your lip as you fished around for something else to offer, “...hold your hand? And not let anyone tickle you.”

He huffed and rubbed his thumb over your knee: “I’m not ticklish.”

You pursed your lips. “Right, sure, of course not. My mistake.”

He harrumphed. “Can I ask you something now?”

“I’ll allow it,” you intoned seriously.

“Where are you actually from?”

“Naboo. Most of my back story was true—I just left out the one major detail.”

“Your favorite color?” he deadpanned.

You laughed. “Yes, exactly. What about you? Where are you from?”

“Aq Vetina.”

You waited, hoping he’d elaborate.

“When my parents died there, I was rescued by the Mandalorians and raised in the Fighting Corps.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, placing your hand over his and squeezing gently. “That sounds like a tough life for a child.”

“It was all I knew,” he explained, shifting slightly.

“Still, that can’t have been easy. It makes sense that you couldn’t leave the kid.”

“Yeah,” he said quietly, solemnly. There was a tension in his shoulders that hadn’t been there moments ago.

“Less serious question,” you replied, changing the subject to something lighter.

“Okay.” He relaxed a little.

“Why don’t you ever use a straw to drink with your helmet on?”

“These are the things you think about?” he laughed. His laugh was usually a quiet, muffled sound through the modulator, but it was getting easier to pick up on it. “There’s a seal on the helmet, otherwise the filters wouldn’t work,” he tapped the release on the side of his head. “So a straw isn’t a possibility, unfortunately.”

“Mmm,” you responded, “that is disappointing.”

He gripped your thigh lightly, turning toward you. “I, uh, heard back about the job... while you were asleep. It’s a go.”

“Ah... great. I was kind of hoping you wouldn’t hear back.”

“I know. It will be fine.”

“Okay... So, any ideas for where the kid and I should stay?”

To your surprise, Din explained that he had a trusted friend on Arvala-7. When you agreed to the plan, he disappeared to the cockpit to set the nav—a two-day trip.

***

That same evening, you discovered a new favorite activity on the Crest. Before bed, the kid was being particularly fussy, so you pulled out your data pad and downloaded the first children’s book you could find. It worked liked a charm.

From then on, it became a daily routine: you’d read to him until his eyelids drooped before his nap and before bedtime. Regardless of his mood, listening to you read seemed to soothe him. You’d pull him into your lap and settle onto your stack of blankets against the wall. He’d watch your face, enraptured, as you relayed story after story to him. His favorite—the story that elicited the most chirps and grabby motions and ear wiggles—centered on a family of frogs. You revisited that one at least once a day, sometimes more if he was grouchy.

You weren’t sure how to feel about his hyperfixation on that particular story given his appetite for frogs.

At this rate, your digital library was going to be largely children’s books. You didn’t mind.

You noticed that Din would find something to do in the hull while you read. The first couple times, he sat and cleaned one of his many weapons or sewed a hole in his flight suit. Very quickly, he stopped bothering with an ostensible task and would just sit and listen.

When you were still 15 hours out from Arvala-7, Din was seated on his usual crate in the hull, the one next to the weapons cabinet, as you finished the final page of a particularly thrilling story about a snail. The kid was snoring softly in your arms, so you clicked off your datapad, and got up to settle him in his hammock for his mid-day nap.

“You’re good with him.” Din was leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.

“I guess,” you shrugged, snapping the door to Din’s bunk shut and turning back to him. “I just think about what I liked as a kid. I loved when my parents would read to me.”

He nodded, helmet trained on the floor between his boots.

“I’m sorry—” you started, realizing how that must have sounded to Din.

He looked up and cut you off. “Don’t be. It’s nice for him to have some normal kid experiences.”

“You know what he’d really love?”

“What?”

“If you read to him.”

He dipped his helmet slightly in acknowledgement, rolling his shoulders back at the same time like he was uncomfortable agreeing with that.

Several hours later, you pulled Din down next to you in your normal pre-bedtime story time spot. He had the kid in his arms. You switched on your datapad and toggled through the catalog of books you’d downloaded, all of which had colorful covers and silly, whimsical titles, until you found the frog book.

“Here,” you offered, passing it over to him.

You leaned your head back against the wall and closed your eyes, listening to Din’s serious, even voice narrate the heartwarming hijinks of a family of frogs. The kid cooed and babbled along.

To your (and the kid’s) utter delight, Din’s rendition slowly evolved into a full-on dramatic reading, complete with sound effects and slightly different voices for each character, as he leaned into whatever prompted the most enthusiastic responses from the kid. You kept your eyes closed and said nothing, worried that if you drew attention to this new development, he’d get self-conscious and stop. You couldn’t help from smiling a little though.

When the story came to its conclusion, you opened your eyes. Din was scrolling through the library of options, browsing for the next book. “What do you think? Which one next?” You looked at him, but he wasn’t asking you. The kid let out a string of gibberish, pointing with a teeny finger. Din read out the titles of several options, selecting the one that triggered the most animated trill.

As Din began the story, he shifted until his body was flush with yours. The places where his beskar made contact with you were cold, even through the fabric of your clothes, but you didn’t mind.

By the time Din finished the second book, the kid was displaying the telltale signs—drooping ears and unfocused eyes—that bedtime had arrived.

Din handed you the datapad and stood to tuck the kid into bed.

As he shut the door to his bunk, you said, “I think you just put me out of a job.”

He scoffed, but you could tell he was pleased.

***

As you got more comfortable around each other, Din took to walking around without his armor—beside his helmet—on. Most of the time, he’d even leave his gloves off. He wore either a flight suit that zipped up the middle or a black shirt and pants...with suspenders. The first few times, it was jarring to see him like that, without his armor. He looked wrong. It was like seeing a turtle without its shell... but if turtles were sexy.

The first time he emerged from his bunk with the suspenders hanging loosely by his sides, you stopped dead, mouth hanging open. He tilted his helmet sharply at you: “What?”

“You sometimes wear suspenders under your armor?”

“...Yes?”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you and the goofy grin that spread across your face.

“What?” he prompted again, shoulders pulling up toward his neck.

“I just really wasn’t expecting that,” you laughed.

“What were you expecting?” The playful note in his voice left you flustered. He took a step closer, much more relaxed now that he was the one doing the teasing. He was getting too good at flipping things on you.

Instead of answering—because you were not about to address the fact that you had absolutely thought about what he wore under his armor—you strode up to him and pulled the suspenders over his shoulders. He stood uncomfortably still, arms hanging awkwardly by his sides.

“What are you doing?” He looked down at his shirt then back up at you.

“I just want to get the full picture.” You looked him up and down.

“Thought about this a lot, have you?” He quirked his helmet down at you suggestively. It was only the second time you’d gotten that particular flavor of head tilt, and you...didn’t hate it. It made your neck feel hot. You disregarded the intense desire to grab him by the suspenders and jerk him toward you.

Instead, you narrowed your eyes at him, enjoying this new bold flirtation. Without looking away from his visor, you hooked a finger through one of the suspenders and pulled it out a couple inches, letting it snap back against him.

“Ow.” He stated it so matter-of-factly that it obviously hadn’t hurt, but for dramatic effect, he rubbed the spot on his chest where it hit him.

“You’ll survive,” you assured him, patting his shoulder and brushing past him to climb the ladder to the cockpit. When you sat down in the pilot’s seat and kicked your feet up to rest on the console, you still had a smile on your face.

***

A few hours later, you were seated in the copilot seat with the child held tightly in your lap as the Razor Crest descended through the atmosphere of Arvala-7. On the way, Din shared how he’d met this friend—he had helped Din when he was originally tracking down the child months ago.

However, when you asked what his friend’s name was, Din said he didn’t know. Honestly, you weren’t even that surprised. Just exasperated.

Din told you the details of when he tracked down the child, including the assassin droid he'd crossed paths with. He explained how he’d teamed up with IG-11, but in the end, he had to destroy the droid to protect the kid. The anger in his voice was raw when he described watching IG-11 point his blaster at the child.

As the dusty, cracked surface of the planet came into view, you asked, “Is that what caused your thing with droids?”

“What thing?”

“Din.”

He was silent for a long moment.

“Droids destroyed my home planet, killed my parents. They’re the reason I was a foundling as a child.”

His words washed over you, and your heart dropped. You leaned forward in your seat to put a hand on his shoulder. He stayed perfectly still, helmet trained on the controls in front of him.

“I’m sorry.”

He nodded stiffly and reached up to squeeze your hand briefly.

“We’re about to land.”

You took that as a cue to drop the subject for now.

***

You and Din, the kid in his arms, approached a small collection of low structures. You swept your eyes across the uniform landscape—all was dry and sienna and flat. The Ugnaught’s homestead was the only sign of habitation in sight. The buildings were brown and domed, and windmills creaked slowly in the warm breeze. Three blurrgs in a large corral watched you balefully.

“Mandalorian!” the Ugnaught greeted, emerging from the door of his low home.

“Ugnaught,” Din replied with a nod.

“I did not think I would see you here again. What business brings you back to Arvala-7?”

“I was hoping that my friends could stay with you for a couple nights—I’ll pay you for the lodging.”

Of course he'd refer to me and a literal infant as his "friends."

You introduced yourself, offering your hand.

The Ugnaught bowed his head slightly as he clasped your hand: “It is nice to make your acquaintance. I am Kuill.”

At least Din knows his name now.

Kuill turned back to Din. “The child remains in your care,” he observed.

“Yes,” said Din, offering no explanation. He set the child down on the ground, and he toddled his way slowly over to Kuill.

Kuill scooped up the baby, and he chirruped happily, reaching toward his whiskery mustache.

“It hasn’t grown much.”

“I think it might be a Strand-Cast.”

You shot Din a skeptical look. He’d never shared this particular theory of his with you.

“I don’t think it was engineered. I’ve worked in the gene farms. This one looks evolved. Too ugly,” mused Kuill.

You raised your eyebrows at the frankness of his statement. He is not ugly.

“Your friends are welcome to stay with me. No payment will be necessary. I have spoken.” Kuill turned and headed back inside without so much as a backward glance.

“I insist,” Din said to his back.

Kuill disappeared into his home.

Din turned to you: “He does that. Just ends a conversation like that.”

“I understand why the two of you get along so well. Men of few words.” You raised an eyebrow at him.

Din nodded, reinforcing your point inadvertently.

You and Din stepped closer to each other at the same time. For the first time, you let the concern you were feeling color your features.

“I’ll be back in three days, if not sooner.”

He was padding his timeline in response to the worry that was etched across your face. You knew Din could defend himself—that wasn’t your fear. It was that, whether he liked to admit it or not, he occasionally let trust blind him. The irony of that wasn’t lost on you, considering how long it had taken for him to trust you. This was the trademark paradox of Din. He was loath to fully let people in, but he had a tendency to take people at face value and assume they would keep their word—because he always kept his word. He had a surprisingly generous worldview for someone with such a violent profession and brutal past.

Din reached down to grab something small that was tucked in his belt—the metal ball from one of the controls in the cockpit that the kid loved to play with. He occasionally pretended to be irritated whenever he wanted to play with it, but you knew he found it endearing.

He handed it to you. “He’ll want that.”

You smiled and nodded, looking at the sphere in your palm. Din raised a hand to your chin and tilted your face back up to his.

Do we... hug? He doesn’t seem like a hugger.

So instead, you offered, “Be careful, okay?”

“I will,” he promised. He stayed there for a moment longer, looking at you and rubbing his thumb along your cheek. Before you could decide if you should also try to hug him, he turned abruptly to walk back to the Crest.

You stayed and watched him as he walked the distance back to the ship and disappeared up the ramp. You stayed and watched as the Razor Crest rumbled to life and took off. You stayed and watched as it ascended through the atmosphere and vanished from view.

***

It was a relief to be off the ship for a few days—even if Arvala-7 wasn’t exactly your ideal planet. It would be a treat to eat real food, instead of shelf-stable ration packs, and to have more than the limited space of the ship to move around in... not to mention an actual bed.

Kuill was a kind and welcoming host. He offered you his spare room, where you placed your things, and you sat down for tea together in his small kitchen.

“How did you come to be in the company of the Mandalorian and the child?”

“I guess he has a soft spot for people who are wanted by the Empire?” you chuckled, and Kuill nodded somberly. “Now, we’re just helping each other out.” You weren’t really sure how else to explain it.

Kuill didn’t press you anymore than that, nodding sagely. Instead, while you sipped your tea with the kid on your lap, he told you about his background—decades of indentured servitude to the Empire before he worked off his debt and bought his freedom—in the solemn, frugal way that was clearly characteristic of the Ugnaught. You understood why Din trusted him: he was forthright, calm, wise.

“What can I help you with while I’m here?” you asked, already anxious to find something to occupy your time.

“You are my guest. You do not need to do any work.”

“I would be happy to,” you insisted. “I would rather be busy. I can help with cleaning or repairs—whatever you need. My formal training was in programming, but I’ve picked up general skills along the way.”

Kuill nodded and said, “Come.”

He turned and walked out of his house. You set down your tea on the table and followed him, the child tucked in the crook of your elbow, happily clutching the silver ball. Kuill stopped in front of the workstation that was a short distance from his doorway. Tools and wiring and various speeder parts were arranged on and around a long workbench and a collection of smaller tables and shelves. The circular backdrop of the workbench was the repurposed window of a TIE fighter.

An assassin droid was laid across the tabletop.

“Is this the droid that Mando shot?”

“I believe so, yes. It was left behind, in the Mandalorian’s wake of destruction. I found it lying where it fell—devoid of all life. I recovered the flotsam and staked it as my own in accordance with the Charter of the New Republic. Little remains of its neural harness. Reconstruction will be quite difficult.”

“What are your plans for it?”

“To convert it from an assassin droid to something more useful: a protocol and nurse droid.”

You nodded. “Handy.”

“I will have to reconstruct the neural harness, and then it will have to relearn every function from scratch. It will be a blank slate on which to program something nurturing instead of destructive. You may help me restore him if you would like.”

“Of course.”

The two of you got to work.

***

That night, when you lay down to sleep, you tossed and turned. The child was snuggled in a makeshift crib next to your bed. You found yourself sitting up periodically to check on him. Every time you checked on him, he was sleeping soundly.

Eventually, you slipped out of your bed, tiptoed quietly through the house, and walked out into the cold, clear night. You walked aimlessly for a while, circling the corral of blurrgs. They were asleep, eyes shut tight, standing in a close clump. Then you turned to head out across the open plain and watch the stars through the thin veil of clouds that dusted the sky.

You were starting to regret that you hadn’t pushed harder to go with Din. He was with a whole team of people who sounded untrustworthy at best, malicious at worst. You couldn’t help but think of all the things you should have said to him before he left. You hadn’t even hugged him.

It was freaking you out a little just how attached you were to a man who you’d known for a couple months.

You walked until the chill of the night air became too much, then turned back.

In the morning, you sat at Kuill’s kitchen table again, feeding the child. Kuill moved around the small food prep area, pulling together breakfast and making tea.

You followed Kuill as he went about his daily jobs, caring for the blurrgs, doing routine maintenance, and continuing the work on IG-11.

You were sweating in the sun, hands covered in grease, concentrating on refitting a damaged arm joint when Kuill’s calm voice brought you out of your train of thought.

“It is curious that the Mandalorian elected to keep the child.”

You looked up at him. “He secretly has a soft heart,” you said, smiling to yourself.

“Yes, that much is clear, but he is also set in his beliefs, and this choice went against the Guild Code. What is curious is that such a small being could inspire a change of heart in such a rigid person.”

You considered his words.

“I... think he was just waiting to find a greater purpose than hunting, to find someone to love, you know? It comes naturally to him, but I don’t think he’d ever had the chance.”

Kuill hummed thoughtfully. “Is that not what we are all doing—looking for a greater purpose?”

“I guess?” You shrugged.

“And have you?”

“Have I what?” you asked, wiping a bead of sweat off your forehead.

“Have you found the greater purpose you were looking for?”

You considered for a moment then said, “Well... I found a purpose a long time ago, when I joined the Alliance, and since then, I’ve been too busy trying to escape the wrath of the Empire to really think about what’s next in the larger sense... Staying alive has been the main priority.”

Kuill hummed again, glancing over at the kid. “You weren’t looking for something greater, but it appears to have found you.”

“I...,” you started. You watched the child, who was siting on the hard ground admiring the silver ball clutched in his hand. “I’m not sure.”

“I have spoken,” said Kuill, bowing his head, and he lapsed back into silence.

You watched the kid as he dropped the ball and staggered to his feet, squealing excitedly as he chased a lizard that darted past him. You wondered where Din was at this exact moment, and your heart squeezed in a familiar way.

***

The second night was much like the first. You walked outside for some time, thinking of all the awful things that could be happening to Din.

What if they turn on him?

What if another hunter finds him?

What if he doesn’t come back?

It wasn't a crazy thought. You were used to people not coming back.

Until that moment, you hadn't considered that you'd be the sole guardian of the kid if Din didn't return. For a split second, you felt the crushing weight of responsibility for the life and safety and happiness of the tiny green child that Din must feel at all times.

Eventually you fell into a fitful sleep, waking early, and the day dawned bright and cold. As the sun climbed, the chill rapidly dissipated, making way for a dry heat that seemed to be the only weather condition on Arvala-7.

You spent the morning helping Kuill continue the repairs on IG-11. You did your best to not count the hours that slipped by. He’d said it could take three days, so there was no reason to be concerned yet.

But... did he mean he would return ON the third day? Or the fourth day?

And for that matter... did the day he left count as day one? Or was yesterday day one?

Did he mean seventy-two hours from the time he left? Or that he’d be back at the start of the third day?

How did I not clarify this before he left??

That evening, you were in deep in discussion about artificial intelligence when Kuill said, “I believe your Mandalorian has returned to you.” He pointed behind you, and you whipped around to see the Crest touching down in a cloud of dust in the distance.

“Will you—?” you asked, turning back to Kuill.

“I will watch the child.” He seemed vaguely amused by your enthusiasm.

You sprang to your feet and walked as fast as you could toward the Crest. You briefly considered running, but that felt dramatic. He’d only been gone a couple days.

Why did he land so fucking far away?

You’d made it about half the distance when the ramp of the Crest finally began to lower with a hiss. Your resolve snapped, and you started to jog. Din descended the ramp, and you were so relieved to see him that you weren’t even embarrassed anymore that you were literally running to him.

Din cocked his head—a curious head tilt—when he saw you sprinting at him across the dusty ground. He paused at the bottom of the ramp.

“Are you—?” he started to say as you crashed into his chest and wrapped your arms around him. He barely budged upon impact.

His shoulders relaxed immediately, and he pulled you tight against him.

Well, if he wasn’t a hugger before, he is now.

“I’m okay,” he reassured you.

“Good,” you said into the fabric bunched around his neck.

After a moment, you released him and stepped back, the steadying weight of his hands remaining on your arms. He looked like he was in one piece, but the slight heaviness in his shoulders told you that the job had taken a toll on him.

“I, uh, missed you too,” he said, a little awkwardly.

You smiled at him and took his gloved hand in yours to walk back towards Kuill’s home. You felt slightly giddy that you were casually holding the Mandalorian’s hand. He seemed taken by it too, his helmet tilted down to where your fingers were intertwined.

“The kid?” he asked, looking up to your face.

“He’s good. Misses you, I think. Ate several frogs. And one lizard. The usual. He is disgusting,” you laughed.

Din made a sound that you would almost swear was a snort. “Yeah, he is,” he agreed fondly.

Kuill was waiting outside his home, the child in his arms. When you and Din were close, Kuill set him down, and the baby tottered over to wrap his tiny arms around Din’s calf.

You watched as Din bent stiffly, slowly to pick up the kid.

“You’re hurt,” you realized.

“I'm fine,” he said.

You felt sure that wasn’t true, but you let it be for the moment.

“Thank you,” Din addressed Kuill. He reached into the pouch of his belt for credits.

“I will not accept payment,” Kuill insisted, shaking his head. “In fact, your friend here helped me make great progress on my current project.” Kuill raised his eyebrows at you.

“Very well,” Din acquiesced.

You gathered your things and said your thank yous and goodbyes, returning to the Crest, which—with a jolt—you realized was already starting to feel like home.

***

Chapter 8

***

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