#who let me control my own consumption of material goods

[animatedtext]

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Summer Breeze 2

Warnings: age gap (reader is 22, Andrew is mid 40s), dad’s friend, Andy being Andrew, other dark elements. As usual, be mindful of your content consumption.

I also beg of you to leave me some tuppence in the form of a comment and/or reblog. You are cherished!

Enjoy, my loverlies.

You sit on the edge of the dock, watching the ripples as the sun drifts up the horizon. You forego the Adirondack chairs so that you can dip your toes in the coolness of the lake. It’s peaceful. The crisp water in the glass adds to the subtle coolness in the air. 

The dirt mulches as you hear someone descending from the house. You can assume who it is before they tramp onto the dock. You continue to watch the sky as you hear Andy sit in one of the chairs. He sighs as he so often does. 

“So, you don’t drink coffee,” he breaks the calm with his gravelly timbre, “how do you wake yourself up for all those early morning lectures?” 

You turn your head and glance over your shoulder. You shrug and look back out at the lake, “I guess I just get through it.” 

“Mm,” he hums and you hear him slurp from his cup. “Bad habit. Better not to have too much caffeine.” 

“Sure,” you agree, “guess I just never had the desire to try.” 

“Sounds like you have self-control,” he tuts, “definitely don’t get that from your dad.” 

You nod and reach for the glass of water. You’re not sure what to say to that. Your dad has a couple beers each night, you know it’s not great, but he’s harmless. 

“It’s nice that you can come up here. I know he was nervous about it. Didn’t think you’d like it,” Andy continues. 

“Oh, yeah, er, thanks for letting me.” 

“No problem,” he replies swiftly, “don’t mind. I’m more concerned about Jacob and his buddies. You let me know if they give you any trouble.” 

“Um, I don’t think they will,” you turn the glass in your hands, “but thanks.” 

“Mm, well I know how boys that age can be,” he intones. 

His statement tweaks your brow. You’re not sure what he means. Jacob and his friends are harmless. They’re like most guys you deal with in college; they talk a big game with each other but in reality, they’re not doing much more than staying up playing video games or some roleplaying table game. None of them are frat material. 

“So do I,” you balance the glass as you stand up, “I’m gonna walk around a bit. Explore before everyone else gets up.” 

“Right,” he sits back and sips his coffee, his shirt still open, exposing his hairy chest as he pays little mind to it, “be careful of bears.” 

“Bears?” You echo, “right.” 

You leave him as your sandals clap loudly. The ominous warning has you on edge. You forgot there would be more than cottage folk up here. You try not to think too much of it. You’ve heard bears usually avoid people. 

You stop by the back deck to leave your glass there for your return and trod back down the steps. You head off around the side of the cottage and to the dirt road behind the vehicles parked in the lot. You peer into the trees that line the way in and swat away the buzzing bugs.  

After another year on campus and with your last one ahead of you, you can’t help but bask in the remote serenity of it all. Your dad promised you a beach day and while your sad not to have friends of your own there to sunbathe with, it will be a good opportunity to do some reading. You continue on your trek until you feel like you might get lost and turn back. 

As you come back in sight of the porch, the morning birds tweet their good mornings. You hate to go back inside. You’re usually a homebody but up here, you could never put another foot indoors and be content. 

You climb the stairs of the deck and follow it around to the back. You grab your glass and the last mouthful of now lukewarm water. A distant splash draws your eye and you stare out at the empty dock, the water ringed and rolling towards the horizon. 

You stare out, trying to find the disturbance. It breaks through the water as Andy’s head pops up from the water and he pushes back his dark hair. He wades around, stretching his arms wide as he kicks himself through the shallow. 

You should go inside but the soft pink sky keeps you hypnotised. Your eyes flick past the body in the water as the sun warps the sky in shades of violet and pink through the stringy clouds. It’s like a painting. You peer up at the hues and grip the glass as the subtle blue slowly edges out the other colours. 

The water stirs loudly again and your gaze is drawn back to the thud on the deck. You gulp back a gasp as Andy turns his naked back to you and stretches his arms wide. From there, you can only make out his form, grateful that his finer features are left vague. 

You quickly retreat from what you shouldn’t have seen. You should’ve just gone inside. You go around the front so that you don’t give yourself away with the door.

Forget it. No big deal. It’s just a mistake. As long as he doesn’t know, it’s nothing to worry about. 

[vague-humanoid]

When I stepped into John Roe’s apartment early last December, slipping off my boots at the elevator that opens into the home, it wasn’t immediately clear that people inhabited the space, let alone a child. The four-bedroom, four-and-a-half bath Manhattan residence looked like a showroom. In the living room, a white minimalist couch with no arms confronted two white bouclé chairs. White couch, white lamps, white walls. Even Roe’s wife, Cherry, wore white. Charlotte of the Upper West Side has no dust, she told me—unlike the couple’s previous home, on the sixty-second floor of the Four Seasons Private Residences. Above my head, gentle classical music issued from invisible speakers.

Roe, a ruddy Asian man who wore a pink polo shirt tucked into khaki pants, is the developer of this nine-story brick and terra-cotta building, named after his daughter. His goal, Roe said, was to create the most immaculate and sustainable indoor environment possible. He obtained a Passive House Institute certification, which recognizes when buildings minimize the energy used for heating and cooling with airtight seals and insulation. (Such measures can decrease energy consumption by up to 90 percent.) To reduce residents’ inhalation of volatile organic compounds, Roe employed nontoxic building materials. Indeed, the star of Charlotte is its air. Each unit sports its own Swiss-engineered ventilation system, called Zehnder. On an iPad, Roe showed me the app that gives residents control over what they breathe.

The building’s approach to filtration is undeniably sophisticated. The air in each unit isn’t shared with any other. Outside air is brought in, filtered, treated with an ultraviolet-C light that kills 99.9 percent of pathogens, and completely changed out once per hour. Circulation can be boosted or slowed. Most apartments with similar systems recycle the air every four to five hours a day. “We were thinking, if we’re already going to build a Ferrari, then why would we only give it a 200-horsepower engine?” Roe said. “Let’s put a 1,000-horsepower engine into it.” The quadruple-layer, triple-paned windows feature museum-quality glass and are generally opened only for cleaning. Otherwise, you’d let in air far dirtier than what’s circulating inside.

At night, when Roe’s family is sleeping, it “smells like you’re camping, because the fresh air is getting pumped in at such a rapid rate,” he said. You know the air is good, he told me, because the hydrangeas last. Typically, when cut at the stem and arranged in a vase, the delicate flowers wither and droop in a few days. In his apartment, the blooms will stay perky for nearly two weeks.

@karpad @ubernegro @redstarovermoundcity @socialistexan

[theothin]

Why do you like AI art?

The simple and biggest answer is that it lets people create and experience art that would not otherwise exist. And in particular, it lets me give life to the images in my head without needing to destroy my wrists in the process. Even without anything else, that would be enough.

For a more specific answer - the way I see it, there are two main ways of approaching AI art. The artist can aim for the expectations of other art forms, or they can lean into ones specific to AI. I think both of these approaches have significant merit, and much more flexibility than most people realize. I've seen many incredible examples of each approach, and I share them whenever I can.

As someone who tends to feel like a crude imitation of a human, I have deep investment in the idea that mimicking actions expected of a human is just as meaningful as doing them "normally". And, for that matter, the idea that not acting "normally" is not a flaw in the first place. So I wholeheartedly reject the idea that either of these things could be held against AI, and I find that idea incompatible with accepting me as a person.

Some people accuse image generators of creating collages, but that could not be further from the truth. AI models record patterns, not actual pieces of images. And I certainly can't agree with the idea that collages lack artistic merit in the first place. My blog banner is a collection of pre-existing images, my image edits are modifications to existing images, and I've been working on an AMV that combines clips of an existing show with the audio of an existing song. All of these involve using copyrighted material without permission from the copyright holders, and I reject the idea that I should need that permission, just as I reject the idea that training an AI model on copyrighted material should require permission.

I also write. Writing does not involve creating an image directly, but it involves creating text that others might depict in their mind as an image. And writing an image prompt means creating text that an AI can depict digitally as an image. Just as writing stories is an artistic action, writing prompts is also an artistic action.

But there is so much more to image generation than writing prompts. Image generators can offer countless other controls, and the quality of AI art depends on its creator's skill in using them. AI art is a skilled pursuit, and while it does not require manual drawing, making good AI art requires assessing the generator's outputs and identifying ways to iterate on them.

AI art sometimes gets characterized as being under the thumb of big tech companies, but that is also false. Stable Diffusion is an open-source image generator you can run on your own computer, and I've personally done so. It's free, it's got countless independent add-ons to change the workings or to use different models, it doesn't require using anyone else's servers. It's great. And by having it locally, I can see for myself that the models are nowhere near big enough to actually contain the images they're trained on, and that the power consumption is no more than using the internet or playing a video game.

AI art offers an ocean of possibilities, both on its own and in conjunction with other art forms, and we've barely scratched the surface. I'm excited to see how much more we can do with it and to be as much a part of that as I can, and I think everyone should take a few minutes to try it out for themselves.

That is why I like AI art.

[sidewalkchemistry]

Don't Let the Packaging Get to You😭...

this is my follow-up on "2023 Is the Year to Become A Mindful Consumer"

We learn to buy things based on their packaging - the labels, the colors, graphics, etc. It gets both the logically minded and artistically minded alike. Looking beyond the packaging is not a matter of "not judging a book by its cover." It's important to outsmart the package's many ways of crying out "buy me!" Next thing you know, you've come home with a facial serum that breaks you out, a superfood powder that's 85% powdered rice grains, a drink you saw hyped up on TikTok, and a laundry detergent that claimed was "environmentally friendly" but the contents are just like the conventional brands. You might not even realize how many disappointing purchases you make like this. But if they fooled you, they've surely fooled others -- which fuels the company's marketing team to become more convincing & appealing.

First thing to address is your mentality when you enter a store or online shop. Realize that the point of the set-up is to get you to leave with as many products as possible, spending the most money possible, and leave with the thought of as many products as possible in your mind. If you struggle with sticking to just what you need, understand what is it about the store (its layout, employees, samples, etc) which cause you to be so easily convinced.

Next, understand what kind of customer you are. Place yourself in the shoes of a product marketer. What would you put on a package to sell it to yourself? How would you design that package? Who would you sponsor to convince you even further to buy that package? Look at the common denominators between the products you buy. Do you like going for the tried-and-true/popular brand, glam or sleek aesthetics, environmentally-friendly or ethical claims, more affordable option, latest trends, "doctor recommended" claims, or whatever else?

Also, understand what it means to make a purchase. Sure, everyone has heard that we vote with our dollars. But we don't always take full responsibility or power of our positions. Let's say that you like a product's contents except it's watered down with some waste product (like mineral oil), or you know that the company is deluding consumers with its claims & people are getting sick from it, or you learn that a shop aligns its aesthetics to look a lot like a small & mindful boutique but really it's just a normal sweatshop-run production. What can you do? The easiest thing you can do is not buy from that company (buy from a small business with great practices or make it yourself). You can leave reviews which share the truth. You can contact companies to see if they will consider different ingredients, materials, etc. You should talk about the company with others. You can even discreetly move products in a store so that their less noticeable to shoppers (as to decrease their sales. This isn't something petty, but to prevent funding dangerous or unethical items).

Finally, it's always good to have the habit of questioning, "Do I really need to buy this?" This is how mindless consumption really becomes mindful. It's better to find ways to make the product on your own. Normally, we look at the selection of products offered to us and consider, "What among this appeals to me?" Really, most of what we buy has either convinced us that we need it or it is the closest fit to a product which will serve our life. Creating an item which suits you exactly is better by far because it tends to eliminate more of the unnecessary evils and "unknowns" which come with our industrialized products.

Soon, you'll get in the habit of getting only what you need, being more resourceful & creative, seeing through the marketing tactics, learning about what goes into production processes, and finding fun in supporting true artistry & ingenious handmade creations. You'll begin to feel freer and less easily swayed. This is an important piece in taking control over what kind of lifestyle you live and the impact it has.

[ticketstomydaydreams]

5:3666

(All We Have: Part Two)

Part One

Colson x Female Reader

Summary: You and Colson fall into a night time studio routine when he starts keeping you company through your insomnia and you decide to work though some past demons

Word count: 3,200 (ish, I lost count editing)

Feels: Fluff with a dash of past trauma

Warnings: Drug & alcohol consumption, domestic violence, cursing, Colson being so sweet it almost makes your teeth hurt

Companion playlist:

Machine Gun Kelly - 5:3666

Warren Zevon - I'll Sleep When I'm Dead

The Vamps - All Night

Halsey - You Should Be Sad

A/N: If you've been affected by anything in this story, please know you're not alone. My inbox is always open and I'm all ears 🖤

______

During the first couple of weeks of moving in, you’d been partying A LOT. The guys wanted to show you just how mad it got, breaking you into their chaotic household, blending the days together. Everyone was hyper and the house was buzzing with energy. You'd been so exhausted from all of it that you'd been all but passing out each night, but you couldn’t lie, it was great fun.

You’d tried to pass on a few nights but Colson would never hear of it, often forcing you out of your room to get involved as the house was filled with people, jam sessions taking place in between drinking games. It was a far cry from your usual homelife, your last housemate mainly kept to themselves so your place was normally pretty chilled. Colson had used your place as a quiet escape over the years, but it seemed you wouldn’t have the same set up extended to you here with this lot.

With the pandemic unfolding, the house had started getting quieter, less people in and out every night and everyone was settling into a lazier way of life. The gang were mooching around the house throughout the day and while the house was still lively at night, it wasn’t quite the party central you’d almost started getting used to. Your normal working routine went out the window as everyone had started working from home mainly and without your daily routine, followed by nights out partying, your insomnia was back with full force.

______

You were lying in your bed, trying to force sleep on yourself but after trying to nod off for a couple of hours, you accepted defeat and got back up. Throwing some sweats on and one of Colson’s huge hoodies (you’d been slowly sneaking them out of his closet, finding that the masses of material drowning your small frame were super comforting), you headed down to the kitchen, turned the stove on and filled the kettle up. You were scrolling through your phone when you heard footsteps on the tiled floor. Colson strolled into the kitchen looking disheveled in a white tank top and boxer shorts, hair ruffled and looking sleepy

“Dude, it’s 3am how come you’re up?”

“Couldn’t sleep, living that oh so fun insomnia life again” you sighed “Did I wake you?”

“Nah, I was already awake. Couldn’t sleep either and heard someone moving about so thought I’d come down” He replied, climbing onto one of the breakfast stools

“Yeah, I think it’s not having much of a routine. Hate lying in bed staring at the ceiling so just got up. You want a cup?” you offered, pointing to the chamomile tea you were brewing

“Sure, thanks” he says, taking the steaming mug from you

You sit down at the breakfast bar with him and start chatting, scrolling through instagram as you do. After about an hour, as you’re talking about an article you’re reading, you notice Colson doesn’t respond and you look to your right and see he’s fallen asleep, leaning on his hand, his mouth slightly ajar.

“Hey, sleeping beauty” you whisper, rubbing his back with your hand “Go to bed”

He slightly jolts at your touch, opening his eyes “Nah man, I’m keeping you company”

“Some company” you laugh softly “pretty sure you just slept through all my rambling there”

He leans against your shoulder, closing his eyes again “Hey, at least you’re not sitting here alone. That’s something right?”

“That’s true” you smile, leaning your head against his “You’re very appreciated, do you know that”

You gently push him upright and stand up “Come on, let’s go to bed. I’m pretty tired myself, so you’ve definitely helped”

He’s laid his head down on his arm on the counter, his breathing getting heavy immediately so you pull his other hand making him stand up. He stands up and puts his arm around your shoulder as you walk towards the stairs, your legs feeling heavy as you climb each step, carrying some of Colson’s weight as he sleepily walks with you

Once you’re standing outside your bedroom doors, he pulls you in for a hug

“Night kid, don’t be wandering around bored if you can’t sleep yeah? Just come get me. Nothing worse than sitting up alone at night…”

“Will do. Thanks Col” You squeeze him a bit tighter as he kisses the top of your head

“Night” you smile, as he let’s you go and turns and heads into his room, waving his hand up behind him

Undressing and crawling into bed, your eyes feel heavy as your head hits the pillow. Colson was right, insomnia was a much less lonely experience with a friend.

______

Of course, as is always the way after your sleepless nights, you sleep in super late the following day meaning the cycle continues and you find yourself wide awake as the witching hour approaches. Feeling restless in your bedroom, you get up, and decide to head downstairs and out into the studio because you figure you might as well put this time to good use. You settle into a chair with your acoustic guitar and started playing, stopping and starting as you figure out a melody, working your latest lyrics in with it

“I wanna start this out and say, I gotta get it off my chest. Got no anger, got no malice…”

“I thought I told you to come get me if you couldn’t sleep”

You almost drop your guitar as you hear Colson’s voice behind you, “Jesus, how are you such an enormous human but you still manage to creep up on me all the time?”

“Just a stealthy motherfucker I guess” He laughs, flopping into the chair next to you

“Whatcha working on? That sounded sweet, keep playing…”

Colson knows you sometimes get a bit self-conscious with people watching you sing, so he lights his joint, rests his head on his hand and closes his eyes. You smile as you see what he's doing, thankful he always understands what you're like.

You turn back to your notepad, reading over your lyric outline quickly before repositioning the guitar in your lap and resetting the metronome

___

‘I wanna start this out and say, I gotta get it off my chest

Got no anger, got no malice, Just a little bit of regret

No, nobody else will tell you, so there's some things I gotta say

Gonna jot it down and then get it out and then I'll be on my way

No, you're not half the man you think that you are

And you can't fill the hole inside of you with money, drugs, and cars

I'm so glad I never ever had a baby with you

'Cause you can't love nothing unless there's something in it for you

Oh, I feel so sorry, I feel so sad

I tried to help you, it just made you mad

And I had no warning about who you are

I'm just glad I made it out without breaking down

And then ran so fuckin' far, that you would never ever touch me again

Won't see your alligator tears

'Cause, no, I've had enough of them’

___

“Man, that was beautiful Y/N. I got some chills right there…You just wrote that?”

“Nah, it’s something I dug up from ‘back then’. Been going through some old lyrics and samples while we’ve got all this time on our hands. It’s kinda cathartic to go over some of that stuff now there’s a bit more distance you know”

______

A couple of years ago, you’d been stuck in a really toxic relationship with your ex, Stevie. Your time with him had been a tornado of arguments, drugs and the constant heartache of him cheating on you. Every time you’d get close to having the strength to leave, you’d always cave in and the mess would continue with you losing a bit of yourself each time you stayed. You’d become pretty used to his violent outbursts, he had always been controlling and short tempered, often pushing you and throwing stuff around your apartment. Despite his own frequent infidelity, he flew into a jealous rage with you constantly.

He’d always hated Colson, despite him being one of your best friends, and while he’d play nice to his face you’d always get it in the neck once you were alone about how you and Colson were ‘too close’ and he ‘didn’t trust him’. Before that final night you’d spent with him, things had been pretty good with the two of you for a few weeks, there hadn’t been much drama and so you hadn’t thought too much of inviting him out with you and the gang for a night out clubbing. Your good run had clearly come to an end, when you felt his hand grab your arm tightly and drag you off the dancefloor where you’d been dancing with Colson. You’d been bundled into an uber so quickly, you hadn’t even managed to get your handbag from inside. You saw Colson running out of the club, followed by Rook and Slim who was holding your bag, as the cab pulled away.

Once you were back at the apartment, he flew into a rage. You’d never seen him this bad before, his eyes were dark and when you tried to argue back, calling his jealousy ‘pathetic’ he snapped. He’d grabbed you by the throat and slammed you against the wall, “Don’t you ever disrespect me like that again” he’d spat in your face, before striking you so hard with his fist that the skin across your cheek split open. It was as if his actions had knocked him back to reality, he’d let go of you and you ran to your bedroom, locked the door behind you and started packing a bag. He hammered on the door, begging you to open it and you could hear that he was crying. You looked around for your phone before you remembered you’d left it at the club. Desperate to get away, you opened your laptop and brought up instagram, managing to send Colson a message asking him to send you an uber to his house straight away. You’d thrown your laptop and a few more bits in your bag, the battery dying before you had a chance to wait for a reply, before pulling the bedroom door open and barging past Stevie. He’d tried to grab you, but you’d finally had enough “Never fucking touch me again” you spat, pushing him off you. The hatred in your voice rooted him to the spot and he said nothing as you walked out, the door slamming behind you.

Once you were outside the apartment building, the reality of what had just happened and the situation you were in started to wash over you. You had no phone, no wallet, your laptop was dead. Just as you were starting to seriously panic, an uber pulled up and Colson had leapt out of the backseat. You’d been in total shock and had just let Colson guide you into the cab and then out into his house, up to his room. He didn’t say anything as he led you to his bathroom and lifted you up onto the counter. He grabbed a flannel and soaked it with warm water, rinsing it out before pressing it softly against the cut on your cheek, gently wiping away the blood that had mixed with your mascara laced tears. The tenderness of his actions was almost too much and you started to sob again.

“Hey, hey. Y/N, look at me” he said softly, lifting your chin so you looked at him, his blue eyes misty themselves “It’s okay, you’re safe here. Don’t move, I’ll be back in a sec”

He left the bathroom and returned with a pair of boxers and a t-shirt. Putting them on the counter next to you, he crouched down and undid the straps on your heels, slipping them off your feet and then helping you down from the counter. “I’ll leave you to change”

When you came out of the bathroom, Colson was lying in his bed “Come here” he said, holding his arm and beckoning into his side. You crawled under the covers next to him and snuggled into him, his long arms wrapping around you.

“Col…” you said quietly

“Yeah?” he whispered back, stroking your hair off your forehead

“Thank you…”

“You don’t need to thank me. I’ve always got you Y/N”

______

“I hated that fucking guy. That night...I wanted to kill him after what he’d done to you”

You see him tense up at the memory and you lean over and squeeze his knee “You’re such an amazing friend, do you know that. I don’t know what I would’ve done that night without you”

"You're a fucking warrior Y/N, you'd have handled your shit. I was just happy you trusted me enough to let me be there for you. You deserve so much better than that" he says, covering the hand you'd placed on his knee with his, staring you in the eyes and returning the smile that's crept across your face

"You know there's been a few punches I've wanted to dole out on behalf of you over the years, but you've never let me" you tell him

"Too right I'd never let you. I never want you in the drama, you're too good for getting caught up in that shit" he replies, pointing at you with mock sternness

"Hey" he says, seeing your expression wash over with a tint of sadness "At least the sleepless nights aren't what they were then…

… If we're gonna work through some old demons this lockdown, I'm sure I've got some songs and lyrics that have never seen the light of day" He reaches over the desk and pulls his laptop towards him "You've inspired me… "

"Oh no, are we gonna fuck our heads up with this?" you joke nervously, worrying that Colson's going to delve into something that's going to upset him

"Nah, I got you covered and you got me, right?"

"True dat" you say, as he holds his fist out so you can fistbump, his eyes now focused on his laptop screen

______

You felt kinda bad, having kept Colson up all night with you the last two nights, especially as you'd got him reminiscing about some tough memories, so tonight you tried to sneak past his room when your restlessness got the better of you.

"Nice try kid!" Colson says as he throws his bedroom door open, causing you to yelp in fright. standing there topless with his sweatpants hung low in his hips, he lights the joint hanging from his mouth "I told you we were in this together now"

"I felt bad, making you stay up with me"

"You didn't make me do shit…Wait a sec, let me find a hoodie. If I have any left in here…" he says, giving a pointed look towards the huge blue hoodie you were wrapped in before walking back into his room and rummaging through his drawers

"Oh shush, you have like a hundred…"

"Right come on" he says, pulling a pink hoodie over his head and flipping the hood up over his messy hair "Let's see what we get into tonight…"

______

And so the nights went on like this, the two of you falling into an easygoing studio routine. If there wasn't anything else going on in the house, you'd eat dinner together then head to the studio and work through the night into the small hours, skipping out the pretense of trying to sleep. You were both pretty productive at this time it seemed, both being proclaimed night owls, and keeping busy during these uncertain times was keeping your minds off the unfolding pandemic.

Considering he’d referred to his home studio in the past as the ‘rage cage’ (and it certainly could still be party central when the entire crew got involved), it was actually a place you drifted towards to relax these days. You’d always worked well together in a studio, but over the weeks spending so much time just the two of you, you became more in tune with each other, noticing when one of you had hit a wall and it was time for bed. Sometimes you'd work in comfortable silence, side by side, engrossed in your own seperate tasks. Sometimes barely any work would get done as you put the world to rights talking about anything and everything in a late night impromptu therapy session.

This evening, you'd been sitting cross legged in your chair for hours now, focusing so hard on editing a song which was driving you mad, you hadn't realised your feet had gone numb. As you try to move, your knees crack and pins and needles shoot through your legs. Colson looks up from the screen he'd been engrossed in after hearing you groan and sees you rubbing your feet trying to bring back the feeling to them

‘C’mere’ he said, before turning his chair towards you and leaning down to grab your legs, bringing your feet up onto his lap. He pulls your socks off and begins massaging your feet. You lean your head back, eyes closed and let out a long ‘hmmm’. You don’t see Colson glancing over at you and shifting in his seat as he lets out slow breath before turning back to his screen

“Now this is the kind of work session I could get used to”, you sighed "You being my studio bitch on hand for foot rubs. Although, I imagine this enjoyment goes both ways Mr Foot Lover” you tease, throwing him an exaggerated wink

Colson throws his head back with a hearty chuckle, and light heartedly slaps your calf

"Keep it in your pants Y/N"

You laugh and wiggle your toes, Colson letting out a dramatic, throaty groan in response. "Those are some sexy little toes though" he states, sticking his tongue out.

Still laughing, you put your hand to your chest, and gasp as you feign prudishness and try to pull your feet away. He grabs both your feet in one of his hands, keeping them in place then leans over the desk and pulls your laptop towards you

"Get on with some work you, this is supposed to be keeping you motivated, not distracted"

He scolds affectionately, with a smile on his face

“Okay, okay, spoilsport” you grumble as you pull your computer onto your lap

Half an hour passes, your legs still on Colson’s lap with him still massaging your feet absentmindedly with one hand while he works, and your eyes begin to feel heavy. You don’t realise you’ve fallen asleep, until you’re awoken by a “woah” from Colson as he catches your laptop which is about to fall. Taking it from your lap, he states “Right, time for bed you”

You check your phone and see it’s already 5:36am.

You stand up and stretch then walk over behind Colson, putting your arms around his shoulders, and resting your chin on his head. Looking at his screen, you yawn “You got much left to do?”

He leans back into you, bringing his hand up to rest on your arm, “Making some good progress so just gonna finish a couple of bits”

“Okay dude” you gently kiss the top of his head and squeeze the back of his neck a couple of times as you turn to leave “Try and get some rest, we’ve got a long day of sweet fuck all to do tomorrow” you say through another big yawn

“Heh yeah, Night Kid” he says softly, letting out a yawn himself. Colson turns and watches you head out of the studio and lets out a big sigh. Feeling the back of his neck still tingle from where you’d squeezed it, he’s suddenly aware of how empty the room feels without you in it....

______

Taglist: @triplexdoublex @thisshitisfuckingdifficult @brightblaqkkheaven

Lace Up! ❌❌

[texanstarslove]

don’t be jealous

A/N: Me? Writing a self indulgent fic with my hockey husband? NEVER. This is mainly just smut with a little bit of plot...a little treat for all of you, if you will. I hope y’all enjoy!

Song Inspo: little bit of Ariana Grande’s new album (it’s a whole vibe, y’all) and Jealous by Beyoncé

Warnings: language, smut, alcohol consumption, unprotected sex (wrap it up and be safe, kids)

Word Count: 3.8k

~

Thunderstorms had an oddly calming effect on you. Whenever you found yourself stressed or your anxiety was being triggered, the sound of thunder and rain seemed to bring you back down to earth. Sound machines and apps sufficed on sunny days but when the real thing rolled through, nothing else compared. 

It was especially welcomed on a night like tonight, one where your feelings were spiraling in a nonsensical circle. You shouldn’t have been upset by what you saw on his Instagram story. What the two of you had was never anything more than just an occasional hookup. Seeing him out and about with the same pretty little blonde you’d last seen him with shouldn’t have made you feel this overwhelming sense of jealousy. Yet you couldn’t help when your fingers developed minds of their own and typed out a reply to his story.

Cute. Is she your new toy?

You knew you shouldn’t have done it but you did it anyway, hitting send without a second thought. Sure it was petty and childish, but in the moment it made you feel just a tiny bit better. You set your phone on the end table beside the couch you sat on, snuggled up under your favorite throw blanket with a big glass of wine in your hand. Sighing in contentment, you made yourself comfortable, sipping on your wine and listening to the sounds of mother nature outside your apartment. Time passed peacefully, the alcohol slowly warming your body and relaxing you. That relaxation and peace were interrupted rather abruptly by a loud resounding knock on your front door. You were incredibly confused, not having been expecting any visitors, especially given the inclement weather. The knocking persisted, getting annoying very quickly.

“I’m coming, damn it. Hold on.” You hollered, quickly making your way to open the door without looking to see who it was. You immediately regretted that decision when you quickly flung open the door to reveal the very person you were trying to forget for the evening.

“You know, I can make that happen for you real quick if you’d like.”

That oh-so-cocky smirk you hate to love greeted you immediately. You sighed heavily, crossing your arms over your chest and leaning your hip against the door frame.

“What are you doing here, Tyler?” You asked, “Don’t you have a girlfriend to go home to?”

He chuckled softly. “You going to let me in? In case you haven’t noticed, it’s a fucking monsoon out here.”

“You going to answer my question?” You persisted, moving slightly as Tyler pushed his way past you and into your apartment. You shut the door behind you and leaned against it, Tyler instantly pressing himself against you and bracketing his arms beside your head.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” He murmured, his lips barely brushing yours as he spoke.

“You sure do seem to like hanging out with her.” You retorted, your arms staying put by your side.

Tyler brought one of his hands to your side, slowly tracing his fingertips up and underneath your thin tank top to brush your bare skin. “Are you jealous?”

You took a deep breath through your nose, exhaling slowly as his fingertips continued their exploration of your skin. His dark brown eyes bore into your own, searching your face for any kind of response.

“Why would I be jealous?” You whispered, “We aren’t exclusive or anything.”

You saw something sinister briefly flash in his eyes before he asked you, “Are you seeing anyone else?”

You couldn’t help the smirk that pulled across your lips. Oh, how the tables quickly turn. “Why? Are you jealous?”

His hips pressed further into yours before he pressed his lips to yours in a rough kiss. You immediately opened up to him, your arms flinging around his neck and pulling him closer to you. Tyler moved his hands to your hips, giving them a hard squeeze before lifting you up in his arms, your legs wrapping around him. You felt him walking the two of you to your couch, one of his arms moving to fling your blanket to the other side before falling to the cushions with you in his lap. 

You were lost in sensations, your breasts crushed against his strong torso and your head spinning from the intoxicating taste of him. He ran his hands up and down your back as he pulled you even closer to him. Then his hands were on your hips, gripping you tighter and lifting you up to straddle him then. He broke the kiss and looked at you for a second as you both fought to get your breathing back under control. 

"Are you sure about this?" He ran his hand up your leg and toyed with the band of the sleep shorts you wore. "If you're not, now is the time to tell me so I can stop."

You kissed him deeply, loving his taste on your tongue before you pulled away and started to nibble your way along his jaw. You flicked your tongue out and tasted his salty skin, closing your eyes as you savored his unique scent and taste as it went straight to your head.

“Do you want me to stop?” You teased, grinding your hips into his in slow, circular motions.

He groaned deep in his throat as he ran his hands up your back then into your hair. He grabbed the strands, wrapping them around his hand and pulled your lips up to his, the answer clear in the way he kissed you. Your tongues danced and tangled as you sought a deeper union, but the kiss wasn't enough anymore. You wanted to feel him moving inside of you, filling you. You were aching with the need consuming you and filling your body with a heat unlike any you had ever known before. A whimper slipped from your lips as you rubbed your pussy against his jeans. It was so frustrating knowing that the only thing separating you from the release you craved were his jeans and a small layer of fabric.

Breaking the kiss, Tyler raised his head and searched your face before lifting you from his lap. He gently lowered you to the couch and moved over you. He placed a soft kiss on your lips before giving you a small smile and reaching for your shirt. He pushed it up below your breasts and nibbled at your ribs before pushing the shirt the rest of the way up to bunch under your arms. As the cool air washed over your sensitive nipples you shivered and looked up into his eyes, the heat in their depths warmed you. You lifted your arms and back a little to help him remove the shirt before pulling his head back up for another kiss.

“Fuck, baby,” He breathed against you mouth, kneading one of your breasts in his calloused hand, “Your tits are so fucking perfect.”

You pressed your lips to his once more, kissing him deeply as you raked your nails down his back pulling his shirt up to expose the skin beneath it. You wanted to feel his flesh against your own and became impatient as you fought to remove the damp material. Pulling away from you, Tyler lifted the shirt over his head and tossed it to the far corner of the room, while you let your eyes feast on what he had uncovered. You felt like a child at Christmas unwrapping presents. You were never happy with just one, you had to have them all unwrapped. That is how you felt about getting him out of his clothes.

His hands slid down your sides to your hips and pulled you back onto his lap. He lifted you up until your breasts were even with his mouth. He placed little kisses all around your breasts then nuzzled the valley between before sucking one of your nipples into his mouth. His gentle suckling sent shock waves through your entire body, making the muscles in your stomach clench. You threw your head back and grabbed a fist full of his hair to hold him to your aching breast. He released one nipple to suck the other one into the warm recesses of his mouth.

“That feels so good, Ty.” You moaned, tugging on his curls.

When you could stand no more you pushed away and kissed him gently before sliding your body down the length of his until you were on the floor in front of him. Rising to your knees you grabbed his hips and pulled him to the edge of the cushion. You leaned forward and took the material beside the snap between your teeth and pulled on it. You looked up at Tyler when it came free, smiling at his lust filled expression before going back to your unwrapping. You took the metal zipper tab between your teeth next, pulling it down slowly never breaking eye contact. You could feel his growing erection behind the thick material, the denim stretched taut over him making it tough to lower the tab. He lowered his hands to help you but you pushed them away and shook your head. Just to show him who was in control you placed your lips on him through the jeans and blew, surrounding his dick with your hot, moist breath. He groaned deep in his throat and his hips pushed against your mouth. You smiled to yourself and raised your hands to his hips and started to pull the jeans from his body. He lifted his hips and smiled as you worked them down his long legs then over his heels, then tossed them to the floor, forgotten.

“You too,” He rasped, “I want you naked.”

Taking your bottom lip between your teeth, you stood and slowly pushed your shorts and panties off your hips to let them fall to the floor. You smiled down at him and leaned forward to place a light kiss on his lips. You then raised your head and looked at his gorgeous body in all its nude glory. Seeing the thick shaft you had just freed made your pussy clench and your mouth water. You lowered yourself back to the floor and leaned forward to take him in your hands. 

“Do you want me to put this in my mouth?” You teased, gently squeezing him.

He groaned loudly, throwing his head back against the cushions before looking back down at you. “Of course I do, baby. Suck my cock.”

You lightly caressed him from head to base before repeating the action with the tip of your tongue. You could barely wrap your fingers around him as you guided it into your mouth to taste him fully. You started to gently suck him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the head. You pulled him from between your lips and flicked your tongue along the tip teasingly. His shaft throbbed in your hand and you wanted to feel it in your mouth. You sucked it deep into your mouth a couple of times before letting it slide down your throat. 

“Fuck, that’s it,” He huffed out, “Take it all down your throat.”

You were working his cock slowly in and out of your mouth but his moans of pleasure urged you to go faster. You greedily began to suck at him, taking more and more of his shaft into your mouth before you angled your head over him and lowered your mouth all the way to the hilt. His cock slid down your throat and you swallowed, knowing that it would feel amazing, your thoughts confirmed when loud expletives flowed freely from Tyler’s lips. You continued until you couldn't fight the need to have him inside of you, stretching you and filling you, anymore. You removed him from your mouth, an audible ‘pop’ echoing around you, and stood moving to stand over him. You licked your lips, loving the taste of him on your tongue.

“I want you inside me,” You whispered, “I want you to fuck me.”

Tyler gazed down at you with lust blown eyes, nodding his head vigorously. “Get up here then.”

You quickly crawled up into his lap, your knees on either side of him and your hand on his shoulder as you leaned forward to kiss him deeply. As you slid your tongue into his mouth, you slowly lowered yourself back onto his lap. You rocked your hips against him and the feeling of his hard cock pushing between your pussy lips took your breath away. You broke the kiss and laid your head on his shoulder as you repeated the action. You gently bit his shoulder to keep from crying out as sensations tore through your body making you shudder. 

“Does that feel good, baby?” Tyler whispered into your ear, “You like grinding your pussy on my cock like that?”

“Fuck, yes,” You whimpered against his skin, “It feels so good.”

He grabbed your hips and tilted you forward and repeated the action. At this angle your clit rubbed against his shaft and you were unable to hold back your moan of pleasure any longer. Over and over he repeated the action while adding to the friction and moving faster until you were sobbing and begging him to be inside of you.

“Please, Tyler, please,” You cried, your hips still moving at their own volition, “I need your cock inside me.”

He ran his hands down your back and grabbed your ass pulling you closer to him and tilting your hips just enough so the tip of his cock barely entered you. You tried to push back on his dick to get him farther into you but his hands on your hips gripped you tighter, keeping you from gaining what you wanted most of all, him all the way inside of you to the hilt. 

“Patience, (Y/N),” He growled into your ear, “I’ll fuck you when I’m ready.”

You whimpered and bit him hard on the shoulder making him groan deep in his throat before he thrust his entire length hard and fast into you before pulling back, almost all the way out again. You cried out and struggled to push back down on him but he held tight, barely letting the tip enter you.

“I need it, Ty,” You practically sobbed, “Please, give me your cock.”

Tyler smirked up at you, still holding you up so just the tip of him was teasing your soaked entrance. Sensations rushing through you and fighting for breath. You grabbed his hair in your fist and pulled his mouth up to meet yours. You thrust your tongue deep into his mouth and mimicked what you desperately wanted him to do to your aching pussy. Over and over you pushed your tongue into his mouth before enticing his tongue into your mouth so you could gently suck it. The kiss went on and on before he slowly let more of his dick start to slide deeper into you. Slowly he let you slide onto his shaft, stretching you slowly before he gripped your hips tight and lifted you almost off of him again. Then, without notice, he brought your hips down hard on him until he was finally buried to the hilt inside you. You broke the kiss and threw your head back to moan in pleasure. 

“Yes,” You moaned out in relief, dragging out the word.

Rocking against him and loving the feeling of being stretched to the limit with him throbbing deep inside of you. He felt so good, so thick and solid inside you, you never wanted the feeling coursing through you to end.

“You wanna ride me?” Tyler spoke against the sensitive skin of your neck. You nodded instantly, grinding your hips into him. His hand landed on your ass in a swift smack. “Get to it then.”

Slowly raising your body you slide to the tip of his dick, just like he had been doing to torture you. You worked the tip in and out for a second before sliding back down until he was buried inside of you and rocked your hips against him. Over and over you did this, until you both were fighting for breath. You started to ride him faster and faster until your entire body was tingling. He let you set the pace, his hands gripping your hips and his head laid back on the couch with his eyes focused on your own. The look in his eyes urged you on so you increased your pace even more as you watched the fire in his eyes burn brighter.

All of a sudden he was lifting you up and off him, turning and placing you on your knees facing the arm of the couch. He moved behind you and placed his hand in the middle of your back and pushed you down while he slowly slid back into your wet pussy. He set a pace that was making it hard to breathe but it still wasn't enough. You could feel your orgasm building inside of you and you fought to reach the point where you could fly.

“Fuck, Tyler, I’m gonna cum, baby.” You whined.

You could feel the beginning of your release when he pulled out of you. Just as you began to protest, he replaced his dick with his tongue, thrusting it in and out of you before flicking your clit.

“Sit on my face,” He mumbled against your pussy, “I want you to cum on my face.”

He moved to lay on his back beneath you and put his head between your legs, pulling you down to sit on his face. He pushed a finger into you, quickly followed by a second, as he sucked your clit into his mouth and lightly grazed his teeth against it, sending shock waves through you and pushing you over the edge. Your pussy convulsed around his fingers and as your release tore through you, you threw your head back and screamed.

“That’s it,” You heard him say, “Cum for me, baby.”

He continued to lightly lick you until you settled down some, then he moved behind you again. He pushed back into you slowly and set a deliberate pace to build the tension back up. Gradually he built up speed until he was slamming into you again, making you cry out in pleasure. You began to meet his every thrust, pushing back into him wanting him deeper and deeper.

“Who gets to fuck you like this, sweetheart?” Tyler asked, grunting with every thrust of his hips.

You couldn’t form a coherent sentence. The pleasure coursing through your body made it impossible to think straight. He ran his hands up your side, along your neck and into your hair, grabbing a fistful and wrapping the strands around his fist. He pulled your head back, making your back arch and sending him deeper into you. 

“Fucking answer me, (Y/N),” He growled, his hips coming to a stop, burying his cock deep inside you as he tugged at your hair harder, “Who gets to fuck you like this?”

“You do!” You whimpered, “Only you, Tyler. You get to fuck me like this, no one else.”

You could practically hear the smirk when he spoke. “That’s right, baby. Only me.”

He began to thrust harshly into you once more, a scream slipping past your lips as your pussy started to convulse again. As your second orgasm rushed through you, jolts of pure pleasure ran through your blood. Your knees threatened to collapse beneath you as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you.

He released your hair and grabbed your hips to pull them into his as he thrust harder and harder into you, as he too was caught in the tidal wave of your orgasm. Your pussy was gripping him tightly, beginning to pull his own release from his body. 

“I’m gonna fucking cum,” He growled through gritted teeth, “Where can I cum, baby?”

“Inside me,” You blurted out, “Cum inside me.”

His hips stuttered at your words and a low groan fell from his lips. “Fuck, are you sure baby? You want me to cum inside you?”

“Yes, please.” You wailed, “Please, I want to feel it.”

With one final fierce thrust he buried himself deep inside of you and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you up so your back was flush against his chest, as he too found his release. You could feel him throbbing inside of your pussy and tightened your muscles around him, holding him deep inside of you as he came. He groaned deep in his throat before he sunk his teeth into your shoulder, slowly beginning to pull out of you. You pushed back against him, sending him back deep inside you again.

“Stay,” You murmured, “Just a little bit longer. You feel so good.”

A shudder ran through his body at your words. “I have to get you cleaned up, baby.”

You begrudgingly let him go, whining softly as he pulled out of you. He apologized softly before retreating to your bathroom. He returned a short time later, washcloth in hand, and gently ran it between your thighs. He tossed it to the floor along with the rest of your discarded clothes, wrapping his arms around your body as he gently laid the two of you down onto the couch. He slowly dragged the forgotten blanket up over both of you and placed a kiss on your shoulders as you laid there listening to the wind howling and the rain and storm pounding the house.

You were both silent for a long time as you were both lost in your own thoughts. Every once in a while he would kiss your neck and pull you even tighter to him as he slowly began to drift off to sleep. You closed your eyes and listened to his deepening breathing before you started to get drowsy too. A sleepy smile came to your lips as Tyler nuzzled into your neck.

“There isn’t anyone else, (Y/N).” He whispered against your skin. “I know what that looked like but I mean it. No one else. No girlfriend.”

You turned your head to look him in the eye. The look he was giving you held nothing but honesty, the truth falling from his lips as he spoke. You nodded, pecking his lips before snuggling back into him.

“There isn’t anyone else for me either,” You replied with just as much sincerity, “Not a single person.”

“What about a married person?”

You smacked his arm, giggling softly. “Will you shut it? You’re ruining the moment.”

He chuckled softly and buried his head into your neck once more. “I’m sorry, it was right there. I had to!”

The giggles eventually died down and you found yourself tracing the black ink patterns on the arm that was wrapped securely around your frame. You let the peace and contentment take over your senses. You didn’t know where exactly you stood with Tyler at that moment, and sleep quickly took over, leaving you to sort out whatever may happen between the two of you come morning light.

[wornoutmouse]

Warnings: angst and close call pregnancy

Y'all with all the trama Shiggy got, you know damn well he aint gon be a good daddy right off the bat

Baby daddy shigaraki

You looked at the small pink stick in your hands shaking in fear. "I'm..pregnant." you whimper as the faint lines began to blur from your tears. If it were anyone, absolutely anyone else, then the leader of The Legue of Villains, you would have been fine with taking care of the child on your own. But there would not be a chance of that if he ever found out.

You stand up and run to your kitchen, tossing the pregnancy test into the trash sweating profusely as you glanced into the room your new baby daddy rested in. Different thoughts swirled in your mind about how you could hide this from him. The first few months would be fine but how were you to hide it afterward? Your hands trailed down to your now flat stomach. "I got this." you mutter as you walk to your kitchen pouring you a cup of tea.

An hour later, Shigaraki trails out of the bedroom groggily, hair hanging creepily in his face as he looked at you with piercing red eyes. "Why the hell are you looking at me like that?" he asks making your heart rate pick up ever so slightly. "N-No reason just didn't think you'd be up so early, that's all." Tomura comes behind you and wraps his hands around being careful of his fingers. Even that didn't stop you from feeling faint at how close his hands were to your stomach. 

The first month was easy, you showed little to no symptoms and your stomach remained a normal size. However, that didn't stop you from being paranoid whenever a diaper commercial came on screen. A few weeks after you took the test, you went to the doctors to confirm your fears. "Yes ma'am, it looks to me that you are indeed with child." the doctor said, signing off on a few papers glancing at you, briefly acknowledging your shaken state. "If you're anything to go by, I'd say, either the father doesn't know, or you don't want it." You shook your head, "He doesn't and I don't plan on letting him know." 

The doctor put the clipboard down, "Is this your way of telling me you want an abortion? If that is the route you want to go, I won't judge but this isn't a spur of the moment thing and I want you to be positive you won't be in any danger if someone finds out." You sigh sliding your hands over your scarf-covered hair. "N-No, I think I'll keep the baby, b-but, I don't know what to do." The doctor smiles at you patting your back. "You look like you have a strong head on your shoulders, I'm sure you'll figure it out."

The third month was harder as your bump was finally showing so you could no longer wear your normally form-fitting shirts. Shigaraki had luckily stopped coming around as often due to villain things, something you were grateful for since you could finally give in to your cravings. That plan was soon compromised when Komugiri suddenly materialized on your rather 'indulgent' days. And by indulgent you mean you were propped up on the couch, shirt up, with some ice cream, toast, and two large boxes of french fries. 

"I may have lost most of my human necessities, but I'm sure this amount of eating isn't necessary for normal human consumption." You jump at the sound of his voice, quickly looking around if Komogiri brought someone else with him. "You can't tell him please!" Komugiri looked at you, misty smoke unwavering before a deep sigh erupted from him. "I know not the reason you are keeping this from Tomura, but for now I shall indulge you." You sag slightly relieved. "However." You glared at the misty man. "Now that I know you're carrying the offspring of a sought after villain, I will be checking in on you a lot more. I shall also implement a healthy diet for you and the child."

You groaned at the downright disrespectful amount of joy showing through Komugiri's voice. 

The next 2 months were a game of cat and mouse as you were forced to sneak past Komugiri's watchful eyes to give in to your cravings. "Please! You don't understand, I need a cheese dipped pretzel!" you whined as you were dragged from the pretzel stan by a goon Komugiri had brought along to do the labor for your shopping trip. "Get ahold of yourself young lady, you're causing a scene!" Komugiri reprimanded, truly sounding like a disappointed mother scolding her child. For the rest of the day you pouted, "How the hell are you even sneaking away so much, shouldn't Tomura be suspicious?" 

You would later have to admit that the meals Komugiri prepared, did make up for the food he wrongfully withheld from you. Another good thing that came from the whole ordeal was the doctor visits Komugiri took with you. Although it was rather embarrassing as he stood over the doctor, arms cross watching his every move. "Komugiri, the doctor is washing his hands, I think it's okay." you sigh flipping through a magazine for couches. Komugiri huffed and left the doctor alone, of course after he checked the temperature of the water.

Late in month 8, you were so obviously pregnant that you had developed a large waddle. Something your mother exploited. "Hah! See that's what yo ass get for making fun of me when I was pregnant with your brother!" you'd roll your eyes as you looked at your mother who had now become red in the face with laughter. "That's not fair, this is my first time being pregnant you cant make fun of me!" Your mom scoffed leaning back in her chair, "Girl please. Anyways when am I gon meet yo baby daddy? What was his name? Ziggaraki or whatever?" 

You were quiet for a moment before bursting into tears. "Mommy!!" Your mom looked thoughtfully startled at the outburst. "Girl what the hell wrong with you!" You hiccup and wipe your face, whines increasing. "He doesn't know I'm pregnant, I'm too scared to tell him!" Your mother cooed consoling your the best she could through the screen. "Aw sweety, he does know your pregnant." You wipe your eyes humming in question. "What are you talking about?" 

Behind you, something heavy hit the floor making you quickly swivel around in your chair. There in all his glory stood the man in question staring at you with concealed rage. His eyes stayed at your face before trailing down your body, irises shaking at the sight of your perfectly round belly protruding from the tight confines of your shirt. You swivel back around in your chair cringing at the fear evidently showing on your face. You shiver at the questioning look your mother was giving you but before she could say anything you turn off the video call. 

You shook in your seat refusing to turn around as you heard heavy steps walking towards you. "Turn around." You shook your head squeezing your eyes closed wishing Komugiri was here to help you. You feel the back of the chair bending at the weight being put on it. "Turn the fuck back around Y/N your I will dust this chair." He growls lowly trying to keep some sort of self-control. You refused to move making Shigaraki sigh and do it himself. 

You couldn't bring yourself to look at him so you kept your head-trained down on the floor. 'You're pregnant." Shigaraki wheezed finally letting the realization overtake him. He drops down low to his knees becoming eye level with your belly. "And I wasn't even here for most of it?" Shigaraki became angry making you stiffen and reflexively place a hand over your stomach. Shigaraki doesn't miss this and get's even angrier. "Y-You, hide this from m-me and now you're insulting me b-by acti-ng like I'd actually h-hurt you?!" he screamed at you making your hormones fluctuate from anger to sadness as tears well up in your eyes. 

"This is why Tomura! I didn't know how you'd react! You're not mature enough to handle a baby!" You scream back equally as fears flinching at a strike of pain traveling up your spin at the strain. Tomura chuckled darkly taking a step back throwing his head back in laughter. Giggling as he cards his hands through his stringy white hair and looks at you with a sharp glare. You swallow shallowly, you knew for a fact that a Tomura with a crazed smile was better than a stone-faced Tomura. 

Shigaraki swayed towards you hunched as he took in your fearful features. "Since you're so scared, why don't I make your fears a reality?" The sight of Tomura's hand coming up to your stomach sent you into fight or flight mode. You stand up and grab his wrist, "Look here Lil nigga, I don't care who you are, of how you feel, you not touching my baby." At the moment, you felt on top of the world, until you didn't as you felt something slowly drip down your leg.

Looking down, there was a thick trail of red leaving your genital area. You wail loudly at the sight, legs buckling. Shigaraki stepped away and at that moment, Komugiri materialized next to you. "Y/N!" Shigaraki stumbled, as Komugiri makes a portal and carries your body through it. 'This must be what shock is." you thought to yourself were you layed in Komugiri's arms unable to move as you heard the world pass by you.

There were sounds of frantic yelling and bright lights erupting your vision as you travel from one white room to the next. You were settled on a rather uncomfortable bed as you hear the frantic movement and an incessant beeping noise coming from your right. "Move quickly you bastards or I'll kill you all!" You internally smiled starting to become loopy likely from sedatives. 'Just Tomura being Tomura.' You frowned, 'I hope my baby won't inherit murderous intent.'

'Baby'

'Baby'

'My baby'

You jerk in the bed finally getting a clear head, "MY baby!" you yelled trying to take the needles out of your arms. "Hold her down!" came a feminine voice and you felt a series of hands push down on your shoulders forcing you to lie down. Tears rolled down your face, "My baby!" Shigaraki came near your face, "Y/N it-it'll be fine just....just...just laydown." You had never heard Shigaraki sound unsure of himself and that just angered you more as you gripped the front of your shirt. "You better keep my baby safe your I will ream hell fire on you!" you growled making your quirk startup. "Sedate her!" is all that you hear before your grip was loosened.

The darkness enveloped you and you could only see the worse ahead of you.

You shiver awake breathing heavily before trying to raise yourself off the bed. You were halted by Komugiri's hand. "W-What?" you start off but Komugiri raised a smug finger to his lips before pointing over to the left side of the room. Turning your head you gape at the sight before you. 

Shiagarki, in all his villainous glory, was sleeping in a chair shirtless with a tiny bundle of a blanket over him. "Is that?" You ask looking at Komugiri who nods standing up and walking over to Tomura, carefully removing the bundle of blankets from his arms walking back to you. 

You hear small gurgles and your heart beats faster as Komugiri sets the small weight into your arms. Looking down at the small face of your child, all your problems went away. "Hi there little one." you cooed softly at the child in your arms. The baby had the same dark skin as you but its hair was light blue like its father. "Come on, let mommy see you." you whisper booping your nose against the baby's smaller one making its face scrunch up. 

"Look, Komu, I made this!" you said still sounding slightly loopy. Komugiri chuckled, "You and Tomura are so much alike I see now."

From the other side of the room, Shigaraki jerks in his place standing up and looking franticly around the room effectively disintegrating the armrest. When he makes eye contact with you, he instantly relaxes. Komugiri excuses himself from the room leaving the two of you to awkwardly stare at each other. "So, what happened." you started off not exactly wanting to talk but you knew you had to.

Shigaraki raised his hand to his neck but didn't scratch for some reason. "Preeclampsia, a reaction to stress making your blood pressure go up." You hummed looking down at your infant. "It's so cute." you mumble, "He... it's a boy." Shigaraki chimes in as he gazes at the baby with wide eyes. You smile feeling the waterworks return. "My baby boy."

Shigaraki shuffles awkwardly as he watched you cry silently. "You want..a tissue?" You glare at him nodding. "Can we name him Daku?" Shigaraki hesitantly asks as he brings a box of tissue. "Doesn't that mean Dark in Japanese?" you ask quirking your eyebrow. Shigaraki shrugged, "I mean look at him, he is dark." You look at Shagaraki for a painstakingly long time. "Keep playing with me and I'll name him Komugriri." Shigaraki frowns at that.

"The bastard didn't even tell me and he knew the whole time!" you rolled your eyes at your partner's grumbling. "If you want to call him dark so bad how about...Yami." Shigaraki shook his head, "That's too close to All Might's real name." "I'm not even going to ask how you know that."

You two sit in silence as you gaze at your new unnamed baby. "We can't ignore the elephant in the room Y/N." Shigaraki states putting a hesitant hand on your shoulder. "Ignore what Tomura? about how you caused me to go into labor early. Like threatening to kill both me and our child?!" you said voice raising a bit. Shigaraki looked at you, gears turning. 

There was nothing he could actually say to that for no matter how you could look at, nothing he did was okay. "I...I was scared." You sighed placing your head back on your pillow looking at the tiles above you, wishing that this never happened. "Well, you scared me Tomura." The silence was deafening as Tomura silently gasped, "You know that I would never-" you groan, "No I don't Tomura! I don't know what you would do! Why do you think I hid this from you in the first place!" 

There was no response just as you expected and for some strange reason, that broke you more than getting something half-assed. Small noises bubbled from your arms drawing both your attention to it. "Hey.." Shigaraki mumbled as you slowly watch small slanted eyes open, looking up at you. "His eyes are two different colors Shig." you respond shocked as a perfect little set of brown and red eyes looked up at you. "Cool...c-can I hold him." You playfully glared at Shigaraki, "You had him all while I was sleeping!" 

You name your new baby boy Daiki, Daiki Shigaraki. You of course picked the name since it seemed that all Tomura wanted was a child with a name that represents the darkness inside him, his words not yours. 

I KINDA WANNA CONTINUE THIS

[tangtownie]

You Should See Me In A Crown - Natasha Romanoff x Dark!Reader Insert (AU)

Author’s Note: So, this is my first time trying to write something dark…

Think it might land in the category of soft!dark, but be warned none the less!

Super nervous about posting this, but I actually ended up really liking this one myself, so hopefully others will as well.

Reader is from the Red Room Academy, just as Natasha, only reader never left them. I took some creative liberties when describing the Red Room Academy, so that it fit my idea better, which is also why this story is marked as an AU.

The Russian nickname for Natasha means ‘darling’, ‘pet’ or ‘beloved’.

I incorporated some lyrics from the song, tell me how many you can find? 🧐

Regarding the timeline, I imagine this would take place after Natasha brought down SHIELD and shortly after Bucky joined the Avengers.

Also, shoutout to @a-little-counter-esperanto for being kind enough to beta this for me and offer some moral support! 🥰

Once again, this is marked dark for a reason! There might be topics that are triggering to certain people, so please be responsible about your media consumption.

Warnings: Explicit descriptions of violence and murder, dark!Reader, messed up “family” relations, weird/sexual obsession with a sister figure.

Word count: 2.252

Song Inspiration: You Should See Me In A Crown by Billie Eilish

I was perfectly concealed, blending in with all the mindless idiots making their way down the street. If this hadn’t been New York, and people actually paid attention to what happened around them, they might have noticed the warning sign that was the concealed weapons on my body. Or my too heavy boots beating down against the concrete. Carefully eyeing the tower, I counted the people moving in and out of the building. “Bite my tongue, bide my time.” I mumbled quietly, catching the attention of a passerby. We had in fact been biding our time, monitoring the tower for months, counting the number of armed guards on site at any given time. However, it seemed that these soft Americans had their most precious protectors under lock and key at all times. Biting my tongue, I tried not to scoff. One would assume that the Avengers were more than capable of handling themselves, but apparently their employer did not.

Not that it mattered, the more people in the tower, the more people there were for my sisters to play with. My sisters who were all watching me, waiting for my signal. Finally, we had found our missing piece and none of us were leaving here without her. I had been searching for her for years, using the Academy’s missions to get intel on my long lost sister. In time, Mother had found out and I had been forced to deal with that. Fortunately, it was nothing a little thallium poisoning couldn’t handle for me. One less complication and Mother would never get between us again. No one would. Catching the rays of the sun on the edge of my watch, I slowly rolled my wrist, the light reflecting up on a window in a perfect circle. “Wearing a warning sign.” I didn’t know where my sisters were located, but I knew they had all seen my signal. I moved swiftly through the masses, discarding my disguise along the way, and quickly found myself standing in front of the tower.

The first window shattered, as I opened the door, a flurry of bullets following the first one. Civilians were screaming: scrambling to get away, guards were rushing in from all sides: barking commands rushing through their radios and glass continued flying through the air as my sisters blew the lobby to pieces. A few stray pieces of glass tangled in my hair, light reflecting off of them as I moved gracefully through the chaotic scene, while the bloodcurdling screams piercing the air sounded almost like a symphony. Humming quietly to myself, I pulled my gun from the holster on my hip and aimed carelessly before shooting a guard in the face.

The bullet lodged in his eye and he fell to his knees, screaming. His body spasmed out of his control and with a final gurgling scream, he fell limply to the floor. “I love the way they scream.” I really didn’t need to kill him to swipe his ID, but alas why should my sisters have all the fun? After all, I was the one running this mission. The glass crunched underneath my boots and blood splattered all over me whenever my sisters killed the ones that got too close to me.

Making it to the elevator was easy: the guards and civilians continuously dropping all around me. Once inside of the elevator, I pressed R for residential. Wiping some blood from my cheek, I caught a whiff of gunpowder on my dark glove and I inhaled again, greedily, as pure joy filtered through my system. Raising my head to look at my reflection, I was met with a dazzling vision wrapped in all black. I could see the bumps from my arsenal of knives and guns strapped to my thighs, hips and arms. My hair was tied back tightly, the glass shards framing my head like a crown, and blood smeared across my face. “You are so pretty.”

The elevator dinged as it reached the residential floor. Unlike the others, this was ominously silent. By now the precious protectors would now that I had come looking for them. Or rather her. I had come for her and I would die before leaving without her. “Natalia?” I called out for her teasingly. “I know you’re here, любимый." I was met only with silence. Humming quietly to myself again, I fished a knife out of my holster and jammed it into the keypad of the elevator. The keypad sputtered and sparked before I pulled the knife back out, leaving it hanging down the side of the wall.

Flipping the knife carelessly, I scraped it against the wall, as I started moving down the hallway. “Our sisters are so looking forward to seeing you again, sweet Natalia.” I was almost reunited with her and joy filled my voice as well as my body. A flash of movement caught my eye and I turned just in time to see someone charging at me. A quick sidestep and he flew past me. He was tall, broad and dark. Every inch of him wrapped in black leather. His gaze was burning with fury, when he turned to look at me.

“Soldat,” I cocked my head in recognition, a smirk curling around my lips. “I see you’ve betrayed the cause as well.” The burly soldier snarled at me in response and a bubbling laughter rose from my throat. “Poor little Soldat, still have the manners of a raging beast, I see.” The deranged soldier lunged at me again, and it took all of my power to block his fist. The metallic whirring getting louder and louder the more weight he put into it. Grunting with effort, I could feel his arm slipping through mine and his fist met my face with full force. My entire body was slammed backwards into the wall and it felt as though my brain was vibrating from the hit. For a second everything went dark, but the taunting scoff from Soldat ripped me back to reality instantaneously.

Pushing myself from the wall, I growled back at him. To think that my dear sister had been trapped here with these abominations of nature for so long… But no matter, we were here for her now and we would take her away. I simply needed to put down this caged animal in front of me, and we could be on our way. “Watch me make ‘em bow.” Anger flashed in the eyes of the beast as I spoke and he charged again: his metal hand shooting out and wrapping around my throat. His eyes burning while he tightened his grip until all that could escape me were choked off gasps.

I fumbled for the needle in my pocket. I knew it contained just enough sedative to take down a deranged super soldier and while I had anticipated using it on a certain overeager Captain, this seemed like an appropriate use. When I finally grasped the needle, I plunged it into the side of Soldat’s neck. The drug took effect immediately: the beast’s eyes drooping and his ironclad grip on my throat loosening. As my feet touched the floor again, his hand slipped from my throat and he landed with a loud thump. I wasn’t certain how long it would keep him down, so for good measure I grasped one of my knifes and plunged it into him: his stomach, chest and shoulder before I sliced along the inside of his arm.

Loosing my patience, I started down the hallway again. I had to find her and save her. How could Mother ever have thought that Natalia was safe here? Kicking down every door I met, I eventually found her room. The soft scent of jasmine and lemongrass wafted over me and I couldn’t resist the temptation to go in. “You smell so sweet.” My fingers softly grazed over her walls as I moved inside and let the smell of my dear sister take over my senses. Her room was warm and inviting with throw blankets and pillows everywhere and I knew that I had been right. This—she—was exactly what our sisters needed, a comforting and warm presence.

Natalia’s bedroom was immaculate as always, not a single item out of place. Stopping at her dresser, I needed to feel close to her. I tore open a drawer and pulled out a sweater. The material was much softer and smoother than anything I owned and I burrowed my face in it, so that I could really smell her. A sense of calm washed over me and I let myself fall backwards onto her bed, so that I could be surrounded by her scent. My sweet Natalia, how I had missed her. “I fell for those ocean eyes.”

There was nothing I hadn’t missed about her: her eyes that would sparkle like the stars on a bright and cold night. Her deep, soothing drawl. Her soft and luscious hair that I could almost feel running through my fingers. All of it making up the resilient, courageous and ruthless warrior that I had loved for as long as I could remember. My sweet, dear sister. We would be together again soon and then nothing could tear us apart ever again. A sudden sound snapped me back to attention and I quickly got off the bed, hiding beside the doorframe to her bedroom. The steps were careful and calculated, yet soft. A smiled curved over my lips as I recognized them.

“Natalia, любимый, I’ve been looking for you.” Her steps froze at the sound of my voice. I slowly emerged from my hiding spot with the smile still on my lips. Natalia had never looked quite as beautiful as she did with her gun pointed at me. “Oh, любимый, I’m not here to hurt you.” Natalia’s stance wavered just a little and I was elated to see her giving in to me. “I’m here to help you escape, sweet sister.” Confusion washed over Natalia’s face and I smirked as I was reminded that she had always been one of our more simple-minded sisters.

“Mother fell ill.” I explained it simply to her. My darling, simple sister did not need to know all the gory details of what I’d done to find her. “And some of our weaker sisters were flailing without a strong leader, so… I stepped in.” An emotion I didn’t quite recognize flashed over Natalia’s face and she lowered her gun a little. “But as you know, любимый, I’m not exactly a nurturing person and while I see no use of such foolish sentimentality, some of our sisters have requested that you re-join us.” I watched her closely, as I finished my sentence. “We are going to run that place together. That, and any other place you want, my sweet love.” Anger flashed in Natalia’s eyes and her gun was back in my face instantaneously.

I didn’t let her reaction deter me, though. I loved her and I knew that she loved me too. I gently placed my hand on her cheek and dragged her closer to me. “I cannot do this without you, sister. I cannot live with you… Do you have any idea how long I’ve been searching for you?” I placed my other hand on top of her gun and pushed it down until it was pointed at my chest. “If you won’t let me help you, then you’ll have to kill me, любимый.” Natalia’s eyes widened and jumped back and forth, from my face down to my chest. “Tell me, sweet sister. Which do you imagine is worse? Living without you or dying first?” I gently brought my hand up to her other cheek and pulled her closer to me, until our foreheads were resting on one another.

“любимый, my love, don’t resist me.” I whispered the last words before crashing my lips onto hers. The feel of her soft, full lips against mine was even better than I had dreamt. I gasped ecstatically into her mouth and let my hands slide into her hair. I tightened my grip on her hair, when she tried to pull away. She could breathe when I let her. Until then, I would kiss her as long as I pleased. A tear slid down her cheek and I understood. She had finally accepted that we were supposed to be together and that we would rule alongside each other. “You will be the most perfect Mother, любимый.” I whispered against her lips.

Suddenly, a burning feeling spread through my chest and I could hardly breathe. “любимый, do you feel it, too?” I gasped. “We are finally becoming one.” Each syllable hurt more than the last and I barely registered Natalia’s gun clattering to the floor. Something warm ran down my chest and my legs almost collapsed under me. I clung to Natalia and she fell to the floor with me. She wrapped her arms around me and I was in heaven. “You are so beautiful, sweet Natalia.” Even as my vision blurred and I could feel the pull of a deep, dark sleep, I could not pry my eyes away from her. “Sister, I feel so tired…” My voice was cracking from all the effort it took me to speak, but she was here. My true love, my dear sister. I had finally found her again. “Sleep, sister. Everything will be alright.” My sweet Natalia’s voice was the last thing I heard before the darkness took me.

Okay, so Tumblr was acting all crazy when I was making this post, so hopefully, it'll work! 😬

Also, as always, would love feedback in any form! Comment, reblog, messages! It doesn't matter. ❤️

[derireo]

(like this engine) my heart roars ↦ tasuizu

A joyride ends better than expected.

Tasuku loses control of the reins Izumi had so kindly given him.

「 5k words 」

cw: consumption of alcohol, kissing, sexual tension

Driving down the empty highway late at night was probably one of the things Izumi wanted to do the most in this lifetime when she first discovered how beautiful the city looked beneath the shining stars.

She remembered it like it was yesterday, how the metal railing whipped past her as she drove down the highway towards Veludo after a long day at work, city lights twinkling as if they were beckoning her to come on down.

The wind that fateful night had seeped into the car as her playlist switched to a song that suited the scenery best, blowing the hair from her face.

Green, red, white, blue. Different coloured lights filled the city. The view from where she drove left this feeling of longing to reside in her heart, and it was the lone reason why she had asked Sakyo if they could invest in a new vehicle.

(Of course, her request was turned down.)

She never had the chance to experience such a view again after that, her job not requiring her to go so far out of the city anymore.

She was back to walking around Veludo—not that she hated it, but... the thrill wasn't there.

One time, she decided to run around the neighbourhood late at night to see if it would elicit the same type of elation she felt when driving down that same highway, but to no avail.

Izumi couldn't remember a time when she felt as free as she did when she rolled that window down and let the soothing breeze throw her hair around like it did.

She reminisced the memory of the cool air snaking around her skin in a comforting coil and the roaring wind filling her ears as she sat in the courtyard with a beer in hand.

Very much like that one night, the moon loomed over Veludo and cast upon the town its shimmering glow, stars twinkling.

That sense of longing had come back to caress the narrow shoulders of Izumi as she stared up at the black and blue gradient of the sky and she sat in her own comfortable silence as the crickets chirped. She had her feet propped up on the bench, eyes half-lidded as her mouth pressed at the lip of her can.

The sound of heavy footsteps grazing the grass made Izumi twitch and she turned her head to the side to look at who was still up at this time of night.

The person who stood before her was Tasuku, mouth curled into a disapproving frown as he stared down at Izumi with scrutinizing violet eyes, leather jacket donned with a helmet hanging from his fingers by the straps.

"What are you doing up so late?" He asked.

His scolding tone wasn't enough to make Izumi apologise, but it did make her smile. She took a sip from her can and tapped the metal with her other hand to tell Tasuku just what she was doing.

"Drinking." She murmured, sending the man a wink for no good reason.

Tasuku scoffed when he took a glance at the beer in her hand and then the rest of the cans that sat in a neat line beside her.

"Yeah." He crossed his arms. "I can see that."

Izumi pursed her lips, biting at the edge of her can. "Then why'd you ask?"

It was an innocent enough question and it didn't sound like Izumi was teasing him, but Tasuku still had to bite his tongue to keep himself from getting too upset.

He took a step closer to the director and reached out for the thin shawl she had worn out into the courtyard, roughly tugging the material closer around her body to make sure she was staying warm.

(Hm. She was wearing her sleep shorts though, so Tasuku wasn't of much help anyway.)

He sighed. "You should be sleeping. It's late." At that, he took away the nearly empty can from Izumi's hand to keep her from consuming anymore alcohol for the night. His eyebrows were pinched in mild annoyance, but it was normal to have Izumi get on his nerves without even trying.

"Hey..." Izumi grumbled, not at all fighting to get her unfinished can of beer back. There was no use getting in a physical tussle with Tasuku when he was the one with the advantage of being sober (she wasn't drunk, but tipsy).

"I'm just not tired." Izumi frowned, watching as Tasuku placed his sleek black helmet in her lap to begin collecting the other cans she had accumulated over the span of a couple of hours.

Tasuku spared her an unimpressed glance as he walked away from the bench to drop all of the cans in the recycling bin near the entrance of the courtyard, returning empty handed.

"The dark circles tell me otherwise." The actor sighed and took his helmet back from Izumi, curling his empty hand around her elbow to pull her to her feet. "You're going to bed."

"No way." Izumi complained as she stumbled into Tasuku's side, losing her balance with each pull on her arm.

Her small frame made it easy for Tasuku to move her any way he wanted, but with how Izumi was twisting in his grip made it difficult for him to drag her back inside the courtyard, her annoyed huffs aggravating him.

"This is bullying. I'm being bullied." She hissed angrily.

"This," Tasuku hissed back. "is me taking care of you." He dragged her towards the courtyard doors that would lead her inside the dorm.

"Nooo.... Tasuku!" Izumi groaned as she tripped over the ledge that separated the outside from the inside, her outdoor slippers falling from her feet as her socks slid against the varnished floor.

Her voice was hushed when they made it inside and she glared at Tasuku who was squinting down at her, his hand still tight around her elbow.

"You should go to bed too if you're forcing me inside." She grouched unhappily and pointed at the black helmet that hung from his fingers. "You're what people call a 'hypocrite'."

"I will hurt your feelings." Tasuku seethed with annoyance, too busy quarrelling with Izumi to mind that he was wearing his boots indoors. If he forgets to clean it when he comes home later, he'll just have to deal with the consequences.

Izumi pouted. "My feelings are already hurt. Make it up to me with a ride."

"So that's what you've been aiming for, huh." Tasuku sighed, releasing her arm with a click of his tongue. "Whatever. Go change into something warmer then."

"I knew you weren't going to wear a jacket." Tasuku sighed in disappointment when Izumi came back to the courtyard with an oversized sweater and a pair of boyfriend jeans. She looked tiny and was prone to get cold due to her choice of clothes. He was glad that he had grabbed his grey zip up when he returned to his room earlier.

He stood up from the bench with a heavy sigh and threw the jacket at Izumi, the director fumbling around with the soft fleece until she figured out how to put it on.

"Why do you never take care of yourself?" Tasuku frowned helplessly, noticing that she didn't bring a scarf with her either.

Someone in the dorm would probably kill him if they found out he was the reason why she'd gotten sick.

The crickets chirped as the director shrugged, and the pair walked towards the garage where Tasuku pulled a keychain from his jacket and pressed a button, the whir of the doors painstakingly loud.

Izumi cringed. "Ugh. No doubt that woke someone up." Following Tasuku, she who ducked under the still moving doors.

"Then make quick work and let's get outta here." Tasuku grumbled as he strode towards one side of the garage to grab the unused helmet he had lying around. With a toss, he threw the protective gear at Izumi who caught it with ease.

He jogged back to where she stood with his bike and grabbed his own helmet that he hung on the handle, putting it on after helping his director sit on the backseat of the vehicle.

Kicking his long leg over the motorcycle, Tasuku waited for Izumi to hop on behind him, her body warm against his back as she tugged the chin strap until it was a snug fit.

"Don't let go." Tasuku called out to her as he kickstarted the engine, the motorcycle roaring to life beneath them.

Izumi's arms tightened around his waist like a coil and nodded, keeping herself as close to his back as he could without hindering his movement. "Yup."

She held him tight enough to make Tasuku's breath hitch at the close proximity, but he covered it up by pushing his bike upright with his boot clad foot, kicking away the bar so that he could drive onto the road.

With a delighted sigh, Izumi leaned her head back to enjoy the gusts of wind that blew against her.

The street lamps were dim, but still held enough light for Tasuku's bike to be seen kilometres away, but after a few moments of speed racing it out of the neighbourhood, they weren't visible from the dorm anymore.

The thrill of having to lean to help steer the bike as their knees nearly grazed the ground was something Izumi never knew she needed to experience in her life. It was almost like Tasuku was acting like they were in a race with someone else with how he sped along the road that led to the highway, and Izumi was just gobbling all of the excitement up.

She almost acted on impulse when they drove over a huge hill and caught some air, but Tasuku stopped her before she could.

"I said don't let go, you idiot!" He shouted over the wind that whipped past them, grabbing onto Izumi's hands that nearly slipped from his abdomen.

Izumi was planning on throwing her arms up in the air as if she were on a rollercoaster (you know, like an idiot), but was thankfully boycotted by Tasuku who had a feeling that he knew what she was going to do.

Izumi clicked her tongue and went back to hugging Tasuku's waist, but didn't forget to add a threat despite her obedience.

"If you say that to me one more time, I'll really let go." Izumi hissed through the wind.

Tasuku begged over the sound of his motorcycle growling as they sped up the highway. "Please don't."

"This is nice." Izumi smiled faintly as she leaned back against Tasuku's parked bike, admiring the city that never ceased to work.

The wind blew similar to that night she last enjoyed like this and it brushed her neck like they were fingers tracing the smooth expanse of her throat.

Her eyes closed at the comforting caress and basked in the buzz of alcohol that still seemed to course through her body, hands pressing comfortably into the leather seats of Tasuku's bike.

The actor stood beside her casually, but couldn't help but stare as Izumi's head fell back with a sigh dripping out of her lips.

There was no doubt in Tasuku's mind that Izumi was definitely his type, and the way she looked tonight, dressed in baggy boyfriend jeans with a sweet pastel sweater with cats on the chest just reinforced the thought.

Tasuku didn't notice this before either, but she even wore her round glasses and it made the emotionally expressive part of him inwardly clench his fists.

On top of being an attractive young woman who was the same age as him, she was someone who wasn't afraid of his curt personality and actually quite enjoyed partaking in friendly little fights.

Not to mention, she was definitely a little empty in the head sometimes.

It was cute. Kind of.

Tasuku barely had the chance to resist the adoration that came to soften his features as the seconds passed by with him staring, and Izumi noticed.

Why, the heat of his gaze was intense. It was nearly impossible to ignore.

"You can take a picture if you want to stare." She half-laughed, half-scoffed. Her eyes stayed transfixed on the city below them despite the statement and Tasuku thought it easy to lie that he absolutely was not staring.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He replied and crossed his arms over his chest. He averted the direction of his gaze towards the city just to prove he wasn't looking at her and took in a sniff of the cool air, blatantly ignoring the chuckle that left Izumi's mouth.

"Aw. I didn't say I didn't like it." She smiled, reaching out for Tasuku's sleeve so that she could pull him closer. "But I'm going to have to charge you if you keep looking."

Tasuku sighed.

It was times like these where Izumi threw away her charm without a care.

"I'm not paying you money." He scoffed, gently prying away his arm from her clingy fingers.

"Look at you, making assumptions." Izumi teased. She pulled the sleeves to Tasuku's zip up over her hands to warm her skin and reached for him again, fingers tapping against his hand to get him to look at her once more.

She held onto his pinky to coax his gaze away from the city and she pulled, expression softening to something sweet when his reluctant violet eyes shifted to her face.

He took one step toward her, albeit hesitant, and gave Izumi his signature frown, skin tingling where she touched him.

"I'll charge you one kiss for each minute you stare." She said playfully, but the warmth to her tone told Tasuku that there was a small part of her that was serious.

The man froze.

Uh. Um.

Tasuku shook his head with a bewildered laugh, but didn't pull his hand away from her warming touch, eyebrows pinched together to show the confusion he was feeling.

"No. No, no. You're—you're still drunk, Izumi." Tasuku stumbled over his words clumsily, breath coming out in white puffs as the biting breeze stabbed his lungs and pinched his nose. His ears were heating up like the fireplace back at the dorm as the director gazed up at him with her unchanging smile. It made his heart squeeze.

"If I was drunk in the first place I would have thrown you to the ground back at the dorm."  Izumi rolled her eyes. She brushed her thumb over the back of his hand after a moment then released her grip on him, eyes fond.

"It was a joke though. So quit staring at me like I'm crazy." She huffed playfully, pushing the looming Tasuku away by his chest, the warmth he was emanating from being so close making her uncomfortably bashful.

Her cheeks were growing warm and pink, and Tasuku was sure it was because of the biting winter cold, but there was a small part of him that hoped it was because she was feeling embarrassed. He could still feel the press of her hand on his chest even though she wasn't touching him anymore and his knees grew weak, heart racing like a stampede of horses were rattling at his ribcage.

Her little nose was pink due to the cold and her lips were a soft rose, brown eyes shining like tempered chocolate as she gazed at him through fluttering lashes.

Izumi shifted under his prodding gaze.

"....You're still staring." She said awkwardly.

"I thought you liked it." He smiled.

A smile so charming that it had all the air in Izumi's lungs rushing out as his sharp eyes peered down at her.

And— well, yeah. She did say that, but didn't he feel embarrassed at all? He was openly staring at her this time around and didn't even deny it the second time she accused him, smiling as she did so.

She pressed herself firmly against the seat of Tasuku's bike and frowned, keen on putting some space between them.

He was just playing with her, right? He liked to do that sometimes.

The wind blew again and brushed her hair back behind her shoulders, cooling her hot skin. There was steam coming out of her ears as the silence between them grew and for some reason she was unable to make eye contact with Tasuku.

"I'm not counting the minutes anymore." Izumi huffed.

Tasuku sighed.

"I wonder about you sometimes." He mused, stepping forward to cage Izumi between him and his bike, watching as she straightened against the seat and pushed her hands against his chest to maintain some distance.

"I—I don't care. You're being weird." She complained. The heat coming off of Tasuku was nearly unbearable as he trapped her, his hands planted on either side of her against the vehicle they were leaning on.

Tasuku took a deep breath in and chuckled. It wasn't often he got to see such a vulnerable expression on her face, and he was glad he was able to have the same effect on her that she had on him.

"Did Cupid stab you or something? Tasuku—" Her breath was cut short as she quickly brought her hands up to create a barrier between their faces, warm palms covering Tasuku's mouth to prevent him from trying anything funny.

"You didn't even want to kiss me earlier." She hissed, half-annoyed. Not that she was scared that he would or anything, but she'd rather take a dive to Hell than let Tasuku change his mind without a fight. His glimmering violet eyes looked at her with mirth dancing behind his irises and she resisted the urge to bare her teeth in defiance.

"The more I look, the more I notice how adorable you are. Don't think you're escaping me before I get my kiss." Tasuku spoke, saccharine sweet.

His lips brushed over the soft skin of Izumi's palms as he talked and his words would have taken the director's breath away had she not realised that Tasuku was reciting his lines from this one romance play he featured in a few months ago.

"Dude. Obvious actor voice." She frowned.

Tasuku blinked, unimpressed.

"You know I'm not a romantic." He grouched, teeth nipping at the soft skin of Izumi's palm to punish her for being so mean.

"Yeah. Which means it's a little gross when you try to be." She frowned, removing a hand from her barrier to curl around the base of Tasuku's neck. His position wasn't ideal considering their heights, and so she decided to carefully massage her fingers into the straining muscle.

"I would have preferred it happening without you meaning to." Izumi said, honest. Tasuku relaxed beneath her warm touch and huffed out a sigh from his nose, her fingertips digging in just the right spots.

"Noted." He murmured into her hand. His eyes fell shut at the lazy circle of her fingers and didn't even notice when her hand left his face, too busy focusing on the way her cold fingers slowly warmed against his skin.

Izumi found that Tasuku was much cuter when his mouth was closed and it looked like he was getting the massage of his life, making the director laugh under her breath. His eyebrows twitched, and Izumi could feel the rumble of his chest as he hummed with contentment.

There was a moment of silence between them as the wind whistled in their ears, the growling of the cars in the city faint. The sound of the vehicles revving to life made Tasuku's skin tremble with excitement that he subdued with a heavy breath, and Izumi stared at his sharp visage with an intrigued smile.

She dragged a hand through his hair while the other came up to frame his jaw, fingers coaxing his face closer to hers.

Tasuku could feel her cool breath brush against his lips and he froze again, lashes fluttering against his cheekbones as he struggled between wanting to open his eyes and refusing to meet Izumi's gaze.

Izumi paused but kept him close, her thumb gently pressing into his jaw. "Are you okay?"

Her question was nearly inaudible, but loud enough for Tasuku to hear over the wind that soothed his burning ears. His hands shook against the seat of his bike as he clenched his fingers, and he inhaled.

"Yeah."

It was strangled, the way he responded to her, breath stuck in his throat as his senses were filled with Izumi, Izumi, Izumi. The flowery scent of her body wash stuck to her skin similar to how cigarettes stained leather jackets and Tasuku was shaken. The warmth of her hands and the soft skin that pressed into his body made his head dizzy and he so desperately wanted to hold her tight and press his face to her neck.

Tasuku could hear the smile in her mockingly dubious hum and he bit the inside of his lip when her nails scratched along his scalp.

"Tell me what you want." She said. It was more of a request than a demand, but the fingers in Tasuku's hair curled and tugged, urging a response from him.

It was like her attitude did a complete one-eighty and Tasuku was the victim she held in her delicate hands. He had nowhere else to go other than let himself be trapped in her embrace and his arms trembled anxiously, aching to wind themselves around her waist and feel their mouths press together.

He longed for this moment to come and here it was; his ears were burning terribly hot at the fact. Tasuku opened his eyes then to meet Izumi's gaze with his own, and it was like all the air in his lungs was sucked out when he noticed just how close they were.

With their noses barely touching, Tasuku could see Izumi's eyes sparkle with delight, pupils shaking as she searched for the emotions that crashed like waves behind his violet irises. Her lips the colour of a pink rose smiled at him and she lightly scratched his jaw with her nails.

Tasuku took in a deep breath and let his eyelids flutter shut once more, brushing his nose against Izumi's like an affectionate cat. "I want my kiss."

She giggled. "Yeah?"

With a playful scoff, Tasuku tilted his chin forward, just barely brushing their lips together. "Yeah..." He murmured and raised a tentative hand to trail along Izumi's waist, eyes peeking down at her through his lashes.

"I want i—...mmh." He was barely able to finish his sentence, plush lips finding his in a searing kiss that left him groaning against Izumi's mouth. His chest rumbled in a way that told her he was pleased with the situation they were in, and the sound made her lips tingle.

Izumi's palm cradled Tasuku's jaw with care as she pulled him down the same time that she went on her toes, mouth damp and warm while their breaths mixed and became one. To ease the strain in her legs, Tasuku curled a strong arm around Izumi's waist and pulled her tight to his chest, teeth gently catching her lower lip when her fingers down to his biceps and his free hand found the back of her neck.

The heat of her body made Tasuku light-headed, the way she fit against him was everything he imagined and more. Her waist was soft beneath the muscle of his arm and the way her hands explored his arms and neck made him want to sink his fingers into her soft flesh and mark her with his nails and teeth.

With each part of their lips was a desperate gasp for air before they reunited in the middle for another kiss. The subtle scent of Tasuku's cologne nearly sent Izumi into her overdrive as his arm dug into her waist and the shaky moan that left her mouth was swallowed up by the man himself.

"Tasuku..." She whispered shakily, lips abused with each suckle and bite he gave her. The actor gave a low rumble in response, but didn't cease, too high on the feeling of her swollen mouth desperately trying to catch up with the movement of his needy lips.

The evening's cold air was no match for the searing heat the two of them were sharing, Tasuku's fingers sliding through Izumi's hair to comb away the tangles while his burning palm burrowed itself under the layers of clothes she was wearing. She shivered against him as the rough pads of his fingers scratched at her waist and she sighed, hands moving to frame either side of his jaw.

"Mmh... Takato." She murmured again, lips slotting messily with his own as his tongue made a playful appearance. Their breathing was heavy, clouds puffing from the corners of their mouths as Tasuku lost himself in the feeling of her body squirming beneath his ministrations.

"I've wanted this for so long..." He sighed breathlessly, blunt nails scratching up Izumi's ribcage in such a devilish way that left her twitching and gasping. "I don't want to stop."

"First, breathe." Izumi sighed back, coaxing his jaw to loosen by massaging her thumbs into the hinges. She did her best to calm the excited thrum of his pulse by doing this and tipped her chin up to brush their noses together.

With their lips parted for each other, Izumi's tongue met Tasuku's for a brief moment and just the smallest touch brought Tasuku back to his mindless haze.

"Fuck. I'm going crazy." He groaned as if he was in pain and pulled Izumi flush against him, the soft growl of his breathing making the director shake as he licked into her mouth like he was eating his favourite ice cream. He traced every crevice of her mouth with purpose, memorizing how she felt around his tongue as he laved at her canines then her tongue, lapping at the lingering taste of the beer she drank hours ago.

God, it felt like he could do this forever, but he knew that he'd have to stop eventually. And if there was a sign that told him so, it was probably the way Izumi was now whimpering and shaking in his arms, pretty, brown eyes glistening with vulnerable tears as she pawed at his shoulders and neck.

He pulled away slowly, their tongues connected by a thin string of saliva that broke when Tasuku gave her a final kiss. This time it was chaste and the man revelled in the way Izumi melted into his chest and mewled like a sweet little cat.

"You okay?" He asked, gentle as he set Izumi back on her feet and let her lean against his bike once more. He still held her in his embrace as she nodded, and with a light brush of his thumb wiped away their mixed spit from her reddened lips.

"Yes... You monster." She murmured hazily, legs weak as Tasuku's hips pinned her to his bike to keep her upright.

The man chuckled at the weak jab and affectionately kissed her cheek and forehead, still cradling the back of her head while Izumi threw her arms around his torso in a loose hold.

"Did you feel good?" He asked again, smiling when her eyes closed with a nod as he massaged her scalp. He was relieved to feel his pulse go back to its own steady thrum even though it felt like his heart was going to burst and he pressed his nose against her temple to placate the wave of emotion that ran through him.

His lips, warm and damp from the kisses before were now tickling Izumi's ear and with a teasing lilt to his voice, uttered his own honest thoughts.

"Well, you taste good."

Ugh. Izumi wanted to punch him.

With an embarrassed huff, the young woman turned her head to bump her nose into his jaw, still feeling weak even as he pampered her with chaste kisses to her face and his knuckles caressing her cheek.

"There's no turning back from this now." She said after a few moments of him tracing each curve of her face with his fingertip. She opened her eyes to gaze at him through her damp lashes and he paused with admiring the face he'd always longed to hold. "I can't pretend this never happened."

Her wavering voice made Tasuku smile; slightly charmed by the way she thought this was only a one-time thing. She really didn't understand just how much she affected him.

"Wasn't planning on doing that. I want to do this forever." He said, honest. His fingers combed through her hair for the umpteenth time this night and sent Izumi a charming smile.

"I want to kiss you every morning and every night. I want to greet you with a kiss every time you come home and I want to kiss you in bed." Tasuku whispered into her ear, chuckling as she shied away from his ticklish breath.

"Three years. Three years I've waited to find the opportunity to make you mine and here it is."

He hugged her close after his small confession and sucked in a deep breath when he felt her lips kiss his cheek.

"And all it took was a bike ride, huh?" She mused playfully, hiding the fact that her heart was rattling in her ribcage like a bird trying to find its way out. Izumi giggled when Tasuku sighed with a nod and she went on her toes to kiss him once more. Brief and chaste.

"I guess I'm yours now." She shrugged nonchalantly, smiling at Tasuku who stared down at her with hooded violet eyes.

"Then wanna have another go around the city as lovers this time?" The man whispered with a hint of excitement, already reaching out to grab their helmets from the handlebars of his bike.

"Hell yeah, man." Izumi grinned and held out her fist for Tasuku to bump.

Her boyfriend rolled his eyes in a fond manner at her term of endearment but indulged her anyways, knocking their knuckles together before getting Izumi ready for their second joyride of the night.

That's all it took. Tasuku mused as he mounted his bike and felt a familiar pair of arms curl around his waist.

[uneducatorsalliance]

Death by Capitalism: The Alienated Life of Troy Maxson

Erik Meier, on “Fences” by August Wilson

FULL TEXT OF FENCES 

WORK CITED

     In “Fences”, August Wilson illustrates the life and times of Troy Maxson in the stories and experiences he references in his children’s upbringing. They include oppression, abuse, corruption and abandonment from his caretakers and society. Marxist Theory outlines the structure of capitalist society which operates on the foundation of mode of production. This structure highlights the social ideology that manipulates and displaces Troy from his labor, his children and himself. Troy’s experiences become the foundation for the morals and lessons he misconstrues and elicits in his children. His false providence blinds him to the emotional, physical and monetary labors and debts cast on his father’s generation, by society, and cast onto him. This conflict is suspended in the balance of liberation for his family and oppression he casts in the process, operating in this society. He fails to witness the values of his labor, the true purpose of his life and place in the world. This leads to the repetitive cycle of abandonment and displacement that continue to contribute to their capitalist society.   

     In “Marx’s Use of “Class””, Bertel Ollman refers to two categories Marx considered to make up the structure of a developed capitalist society. The first category is the capitalist (owner of the means of social production) and the proletarian (employers of wage labor). The capitalist owns the means of production, therefore owning the means of labor and distribution of them (Ollman, 2).  Troy and his boss Mr. Rand, for example, may both be considered wage laborers, however the commissioner would be considered a capitalist, as would the contributors who hold stock in the ownership of their company. He determines the distribution of labor and prices set on their respective wages. Mr. Rand is white, and Troy is Black. The construct of racism is an extension of the social ideology of class separation. This construct works to benefit the social structure of this society, exploiting the labor of black individuals by devaluing them while profiting off of their labor. This determines Troy’s individual and labor as a lesser value based on the color of his skin and places him in a lower-class bracket. Mr. Rand, however, is white and offered access to the position that offers a higher wage. Troy recognizes his ability to play baseball just as well as the white men in his league and athletic cohort, despite being denied the opportunities to do so. He challenges this again to Mr. Rand and the commissioner when representing himself and his abilities to drive a truck and earn a better wage based on his skill. Regardless of skill and race, their wages are driven by and delivered to those in the ruling class of landowners (a third class category of capitalist society), described in “Marx’s Uses of Class” (Ollman 6).

      The foundation for Troy’s will to live a pursue a life of independence after his father abandons him, exists in the needs to sustain it. These needs include food, shelter access to labor and the income to provide them. The ideological barriers set by his society separate him from earning wages to sufficiently meet these needs and he seeks them by shamefully robbing from those who have excess or access to them. The means to his family’s housing, needs can be considered commodities, as they are met and provided by the income that grants access to them. This income is exchanged for the time Troy gives in the form of his labor, to his company in exchange for income. Marx refers to this exchange as commodification, or the monetary value placed on that time reserved for labor (output). This operates under what Marx referred to as the ‘mode production’, and is elaborated in Geert Reuten’s writings on The Capitalist Economy in which the ruling class seizes profit by owning the means of production that distributes access to goods and services to people as well as the labor and wages to produce them. Under the ‘capitalist mode of production’ highlighted in the book “The Unity of Capitalist Economy and State” Reuten says, “Along with this commodification and the wage income deriving from it, the households’ acquirement of production outputs of enterprises takes the form of commodified ‘consumption’” (Reuten 52). The pride that Troy demonstrates for his abilities to provide for his family is displaced. Though it is opposite his father’s shame (for not providing them) he still recycles and demonstrates the tensions, want and dominant control for quality life. When he discusses his hatred for his father, Troy struggles to define the trap his father is in. It is not the guilt of abandoning of his family that traps him, or the responsibility to stay. It is the societal barriers that keep him locked into his labor, void of anything beyond that, including freedom, love or care. This anchors him to a family he cannot provide for and does not wish to. 

TROY How he gonna leave with eleven kids? And where he gonna go? He ain't knew how to do nothing but farm. No, he was trapped and I think he knew it. But I'll say this for him . . . he felt a responsibility toward us. Maybe he ain't treated us the way I felt he should have . . . but without that responsibility he could have walked off and left us . . . made his own way. (Wilson 1.3.37-38)

     Though Troy is able to recognize the loyalty modeled for him by his father, it is coupled with abuse, betrayal and abandonment from his parents. The internalized hatred, anger and pain displayed in Troy and his father are reflective byproducts of the dehumanization and segregation placed on them by their society. This shapes their conflict which results in abandonment, consequently contributing to and demonstrating the same capitalist societal model. 

     Despite the ideological barriers set by society and recognized by Troy, he capitalizes on the inheritance from his brother’s military compensation as well as his own labor income. He now controls the means to his own family’s needs, and the distributions of them, including money, housing, food and protection. In an article featured in “The Black Scholar”, released post-civil rights movement, Alfonso Pinkney discusses methods of liberation attempted by Black Americans who remain segregated, oppressed and obstructed in white European American dominated capitalist society. He says, 

     “...and because the very notion of assimilation as defined by white                       Americans is racist in that it demands that they share and adopt middle-             class white cultural standards, that assimilation at the present time is neither       likely nor desirable” (Pinkney 37). 

     Troy’s capitalization is coupled with his assimilation and previous sacrifices to survive and provide as a Black man in America, Consequently, they have made him bitter and self-righteous. This is revealed in the disdain and conditional relationships he has with his children. Lyons is attuned to the disparities his father faces, who is undervalued and underutilized at his job. He wants no part in contributing to the society his father remains submissive to. Lyons would rather seek value in the labor that liberates him spiritually and serves him purpose and meaning. Despite his lack of wage labor experience, Cory is aware of his talents and the opportunities that follow. This includes access to education and the potential for an independent life, afforded to him by his passions. This secures value in himself but is quickly met with disapproval, from Troy and his authority from his experience with racial oppression in sports. 

TROY. I don’t care where he coming from. The white man ain’t gonna let you get nowhere with that football noway. (Wilson I.3.37-38) The same sentiment is shared when Lyons returns home to ask Troy for a loan while his wife Bonnie works to meet their financial needs. Lyons doesn’t seem ashamed that his wife is bringing in the income for their family, nor does he ask for any more than he knows they need to get by. Lyons and Cory can understand the value of their father’s labor and the liberties it has afforded them, though Troy feels owed for these efforts. 

    Troy’s monetary and material expectations for his children through labor and hard work are mixed with his desires for liberation from the society they must exist in. His demands for unquestioned respect and compliance adhere to this system which blind him from the values his children see in themselves and their father. The tragic theme in August Wilson’s drama is what Karl Marx referred to as Alienation. Mike Healy elaborates in Marx and Digital Machines:   

     “Marx argues that capitalism, in which labour itself becomes a commodity,          continues yet contorts this process to create a contradictory, conflictual              and universal alienated condition in which all relations under capitalism are        alienated relations” (Healy 8).

     In Marx’s third type of alienation is The Alienation of Species. The ‘Species being’ refers to the nature and spirit attached to, recognized and utilized by the individual self. This comes with autonomy, agency and will to serve the values of the self, allowing the self to connect with others. The alienation of nature and spirit (species-being) is the abandonment or failure to connect with the self. This is consequential, following what Marx’s described as the alienation of labor (the act of production) to the self which is replaced by the worker (Healy 10). Consequently, Troy no longer recognizes or seeks meaning and purpose in his own life and therefore cannot see the value in the lives around them.

     The societal conditioning that shaped Troy’s father has been internalized by Troy and attempted on Lyons and Cory. Cory breaks the tension and cycle of generational abuse in this revelation and last interaction with his father. 

TROY You got to get by where? This is my house. Bought and paid for. In full. Took me fifteen years. And if you wanna go in my house and I'm sitting on the steps . . . you say excuse me. Like your mama taught you. (Wilson 2.4.86-87)

CORY You ain’t never done nothing but hold me back. Afraid I was gonna be better than you. All you ever did was try and make me scared of you. (Wilson 2.4.88-89)

CORY It ain't your yard. You took Uncle Gabe's money he got from the army to buy this house and then you put him out.  (Wilson 2.4.89-90)

     Cory has just been stripped of his own opportunity for a future he wanted, leaving him to join the ranks of the same military that permanently disabled his uncle. Troy’s final effort to assert dominance is to threaten to abandon Cory and take away his needs and means for survival. This is quickly challenged as Cory resorts to an attempt on Troy’s life. In his physical defeat, Cory has exposed the travesty of his father’s entitlement and abuse, becoming the last person to abandon Troy. In this unveiling of Troy’s corrupt act of survival, his alienation is fully revealed to him, moments before his inevitable death. The labor, time and wages he contributes to his family, along with his brother’s stolen inheritance, act as the means of control and distributions he holds over them. These means also support and contribute to the liberty for his sons, to choose direction in their lives. This freedom acts as the resistance to the control and dominance Troy attempts to assert on them in this process of capitalist production. He realizes his life has no value as long as he fails to see beyond the monetary gain and labor capacity attached to it. This capacity and gain are the means that replace any vision of the role he plays in his family or to himself. Death now approaches to remind him of this and takes the liberty of relinquishing Troy Maxson from the shackles of his racist capitalist dominant society and his own imprisonment.

[star-wars-scribbles-ff]

Where I Belong | Chapter 2

Story Summary: The only family she’d ever known gave her a name; back when she belonged to something. But when that family is lost, she leaves it all behind. When destiny drops her in the last place she ever wanted to be, she has to earn back the trust and respect of the Republic that left her to die. Caught between the Jedi and the Grand Army of the Republic, she’ll discover where she belongs.

Fandom: Star Wars | Galaxy Far Far Away

Rating: T+

Story Genre/Warnings: action/adventure/found family | war violence, death, torture, discrimination, alcohol consumption, angst, fluff, found family, lots of clone boys, [more]

Words: 7,712

Disclaimer: Majority of properties within this fanfic are owned by Lucasfilm/Disney. My OCs, as well as a few other things within this fanfic are of my own creation. Republic Cog header made by me 😊

CHAPTER NOTE: Next chapter! Little shorter than the last so I hope that is acceptable. Don’t have much to say other than I hope it is enjoyed 🥰 OH! Check out one of the links below to see some arts I did for my OC Arwen Corcer! Her name is pronounced [ARE-when COURSE-er] for those interested!

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter | Arwen Corcer Mercenary Visuals

Present Day… 

The sun was just beginning to disappear behind the Coruscant skyline. Colors ranging from orange to purple were splashed behind the whisked clouds. The cityscape shadowed much of the surface, making it seem much darker than it had been minutes prior. 

Knelt on the ledge of one of the complex buildings, Arwen Corcer cradled an adventurer slugthrower rifle close to her body, cheek nestled over the stock as she stared through the scope, down the barrel. 

Bum bum…. Bum bum…. Bum bum. It was prevalent in her mind; the one thing she could hear. Breath steady, and both eyes open, she kept her dominant eye trained through the scope at the target. It was the only thing that could take precedence over the sound of her heart beating slowly, calculatedly. 

Just over a mile away, the target stood on the balcony of a large complex with other party guests attending a fundraiser. Since the outbreak of the war between the Galactic Republic and the Confederacy of Independent Systems, he'd been finding ways to make money off of both sides, all of which were illegal, helping to settle her conscience about the job. 

Arwen didn't know the motive behind the client who had hired her to eliminate the individual, but from what dirt she'd been able to turn up on the target, they had their fair share of skeletons in the closet- not including their double dealings with both the Republic and the CIS. Whatever the motive was- Arwen didn't have any desire to know; it wasn't her business, and it was also the job not to ask questions. That she learned early on. 

The target had a female Twi’lek on his arm. She was relatively close; too close. Arwen would need to wait for a proper window. 

The balcony was a large half circle that acted as a roof to half of the tower it rested upon; the outer wall of the half-circle was lined with finely arranged floral bushes and other organic material that contrasted starkly with the harsh greys of the city. Seating also scattered the sides of the balcony. Twenty-four individuals resided on the balcony, including the target who was talking with multiple associates. 

Finally the moment came, and the female left the target to walk inside. There was an opening.

Allowing her gloved fingers to make a minuscule adjustment on the barrel of her rifle, Arwen kept her breath steady, gaze locked on the target. 

Bum bum…. Bum bum…. Bum bum. 

Her finger began to slowly squeeze the trigger. 

Bum bum.

She breathed in. 

Bum bum.

Then out.

Bum bum.

She went to squeeze the trigger when a flash of blinding light overrode her senses. 

“Haar'chak!” Arwen cursed and lowered the rifle, squinted eyes raised towards the sky to see a Republic transport coming to a stationary hover around twenty-five yards above her. 

Spot lights flashed around her as individuals in the transport angled them towards her. Voices echoed over the roar of the transport. Republic Police.

Raising her rifle again, Arwen quickly found the target once more. 

Identify. Breathe in. Breathe out. Squeeze. 

The recoil of the rifle doubling back into her shoulder coupled with the force of the rifle pushing what air that was left from her lungs was familiar, oddly comforting, as she resettled the rifle, watching through the scope as the target was knocked to the ground with the force of the slug. 

Not a blaster bolt. Arwen would take a good blaster any day, but using old fashioned solid rounds was always a sure way to handle a job. Took authorities longer to get leads and she could make the ammunition herself if she so desired. 

Quickly flipping the safety on the weapon, Arwen swings the rifle over her body, securing the safety strap to her armor plate before taking off across the roof of the complex. Disappearing into the maze of air conditioning and ventilation units and other structures, Arwen pulled the fabric hanging around her shoulders up, securing it over her nose before pulling the hood over her head.

The authorities yelled as they repelled down onto the rooftop and began a chase. 

Dodging ventilation units and other cubic structures that littered the rooftop of the tower, Arwen came face to face with several GU-series Police Droids. 

“Halt,” One held up an arm towards her, SS-410 pistol in hand. “You are under arrest.”

There were too many here to have happened to notice her presence. She had been set up.

Dodging the fire of one of them, she lunged forward and pushed them over before continuing through the maze of structures. She just had to get to the opposite end of the complex. Those droids would have speeders; she’d take one and dump it near one of the vents; they’d suspect she's gone into the lower levels. 

Rounding a large unit, Arwen came to a screeching halt at the overwhelmingly bright colored individual.

“Stop!” A standard Republic clone trooper fitted in the signature bright white armor pointed his blaster at her. He looked rather taken off guard.

Arwen, still controlling her breathing, allowed her jaw to briefly clench before her ears perked and she heard the Police droids and her lips parted. Her eyes jumped to the side for a split second before she felt her eyebrows twitch.

“Don’t move.” He ordered, going to step closer to her.

She remained still as he approached, waiting for her opportunity before slapping his blaster away. She was quick to emobilize him; having grabbed his forearm she turned and put her back to his chest before throwing the trooper over her shoulder. 

He let out a cry of surprise before grunting in pain as he crumpled to the ground. Arwen’s pistol was already pointed down at him, his head at her feet. His helmet was already facing her but he seemed to flinch moments later; an indication he’d now noticed his predicament. He went to unsteadily raise his hands with hesitation.

Breathing now uneven and not controlled, Arwen stared down at the trooper. Mouth turning dry, she swallowed before her head shot up. 

They were coming.

Shooting the briefest look back down at the trooper whose head was at her feet, she quickly holstered her pistol and ran for one of the speeders hovering off the building ledge. As she jumped onto one, droids and other Troopers came flooding towards her. Cranking the throttle, she took off across the Coruscant skyline. 

After dumping the Police speeder near one of the vents, Arwen returned to the establishment owned by her client called Lanter’s Tavern. It was obvious she’d been set up; an arrangement made most likely so he wouldn’t have to pay her. It wasn’t a surprise, but needless to say, she would have preferred this transaction to have gone smoothly. 

Walking across the first level of the bar, Arwen made her way towards the back hall. The client owned this bar, however it was more a front; operated by employees to keep authorities off of his scent. 

Arwen swallowed, face still clothed in her dark grey, ragged hood, and cloth piece over her nose. The look was drawing eyes, but as soon as she made eye contact with any of them, they’d look away rather quickly. She wasn’t dressed like a civvy. Armored chest plate, shoulder, knee, and torso plating, rifle slung over her shoulder, blaster on her side and vibroblade attached to her boot- she looked like a gun for hire.

Her eyes snapped to the side when yelling flooded the room, and she quickly spotted a group of men cheering at one of the screenprojectors above the bar. This wasn’t one of the rowdier bars, but when certain pod races or other sporting events came on, it drew in crowds of the like. 

One would assume it was just your average evening on Coruscant. Many of the people residing on the planet had essentially no idea just how the war was currently strangling the galaxy. Sure Coruscant had its own problems, but most of these people didn’t know. They were content to be here, ignorant to the trillions of others surrounded by war throughout the galaxy. 

It was… a lonely feeling; being in the know in some manner while being surrounded by those with no knowledge of the conflict that had been at the center of her life until recently.

Continuing through the crowds to the other side of the large area, she was able to pass people virtually unnoticed until she began heading down the back hall. Graffiti was sparse but painted the walls here and there. It was a relatively clean establishment, just enough to blend with the top level of Coruscant at least. 

As she walked down the dimly lit corridor, out of sight from others she pulled the hood off of her head and lowered the cloth covering her face. Turning the corner, she spotted a human male guard at the door. Upon seeing her, his eyes widened as he went to scramble for his blaster, currently holstered. 

By the time Arwen was in front of him and he had the blaster pointed, she grabbed his wrist and yanked him forwards with enough force to cause his face to collide with her shoulder plate with a clang. He sputtered before dropping to the floor. 

Stepping over the body, Arwen pushed the control on the wall to open the door. As soon as it opened, her eyes met the barrels of multiple blasters pointed in her direction. She eased to a stop, picking out the multiple individuals preventing her from entering before she heard the muttering of words coming from further inside the room.

“Let her in, let her in.” It was a familiar voice, the client.

Arwen waited for the hired protection of the client to ease their weapons. Her own posture was relatively relaxed, however at a moment's notice she could have her blaster in hand. 

The individuals finally began stepping away, and Arwen waited until she had enough room before entering the converted office space, one calculated step after another. Her gaze dotted from one person to the next; a few Weequays -two male and one female- one male Nikto, one male human, and two Siniteens - male and female. All of them were armed. 

“Well, I admit I didn’t expect to see you again. Alive at least, after taking that job.”

Arwen turned her attention to the individual sitting at a desk in the corner, a datapad now abandoned in front of him sitting on the desk. 

“No thanks to you,” Arwen countered, hand resting over her belt as she met the eyes of the client. 

“You’re lucky, mercenary.” The Belosar considered her for a moment, eyes wandering over her as if he was looking for a sign of wear or evidence that his attempt to get rid of her wasn’t a complete waste. A couple beats of silence followed before he gave a decided hum and stood from his seat. Even at a stand, he was small, only five feet, maybe a couple inches more; his skin was almost a sickly grey, common for Belosars, his antennapalps protruded from his dark locks. 

A chuckle left his lips as he walked around his desk and past her, towards the right side of the room.

“You do drive a hard bargain for your services,” He tsked, waving a finger before going towards a large safe built into the wall.

“Well, you aren’t the first client to attempt to sell me out, Gerdon.” Arwen responded, notes of amusement on her tongue as she followed the Belosar with her eyes. 

“I assume if you are here, and that you haven’t started shooting, that you have finished the job, yes?” The antennapalps atop his head twitched as he turned to look at her from around the safe door, which stood taller than him.

Belosars’ antennapalps gave them the ability to detect drastic emotional changes around them as well as immediate danger, so he already knew she wasn’t here to do him harm. 

“You’d assume correct.” Arwen found her hands gripping her belt buckle as the client finally walked over with a small satchel that she assumed was full of credits. It better be at least. 

He held it out and she went to grasp the strap of the satchel, noticing almost immediately how he wasn’t planning on letting go of the item.

Her gaze remained on his as she searched his expression, careful not to give anything away in her own as she waited.

She could feel the presence of the protection detail around her. They were on edge, and by what Arwen could tell, hadn’t received previous orders on how to handle the situation- meaning they were reacting off of whatever Gerdon was doing as each second passed. 

If it was one thing she hadn’t been raised to deal with- it was these types of people. Not that she struggled; she knew how to navigate the life, but she’d experienced plenty of instances of learning on the go. So far not one client had questioned her validity as a mercenary or bounty hunter. Only a few had questioned her as they hadn’t seen her in the business prior, however it was an easy thing to explain. Big galaxy. 

Sometimes it made her rethink just how good she was at the life… being a criminal. She’d received the best training in the galaxy and this is how she was using it… Then it would come back - why she was in this situation to begin with and how she’d come into the life.

Her eyes flicked towards some of the armed individuals before returning to Gerdon.

“I recall we discussed proof of your success being displayed upon your return?” He tried, spare hand drumming lightly on the satchel, the other gripping the other end of the strap.

“That was before you sold me out to the Republic.” Arwen stepped closer, causing a few of the surrounding hired guns to pull their weapons slowly. “You’ll see it on the Holonet News first light; given the Republic will allow the word to spread.” 

The Galactic Republic had taken over the HoloNet News, or just HNN, shortly after the war broke out. Everything ran through them, as to ensure the CIS wasn’t aided in any potentially sensitive information. Despite that effort, there was a Separatist presence on Coruscant - hell on every Republic system - besides Kamino possibly; there were terrorist cells everywhere, and information was always being leaked. Arwen doubted things had changed at all since she… left. 

“Either way, word’ll get to you.” Her voice was low and sharp as she maintained steady eye contact with the man, the height difference between them not going unnoticed as the Belosar shifted where he stood. She easily stood at around 5 feet, 9 inches and her footwear added an extra inch in the sole. This Belosar’s eyes barely met the top of her chest plate.

Gerdon considered her momentarily, his jaw tightens briefly before his lips pull back and he grins. Chuckling he released the satchel and pushed it into her grasp before patting the hand she’d been holding the strap with.

“Yes yes of course, it is only fair I suppose.” He appeared almost distracted as he headed back to his desk, shifting things on the tabletop surface as he went. “It is the pay we discussed. I threw a little extra in for your trouble.”

“How thoughtful.” Arwen couldn’t help the deadpan tone that leaked through her words. 

“It was a pleasure,” The Belosar clasped his hands together, resting them on his desk once he had taken a seat. The silence that followed was a clear indication that she was excused.

Arwen watched him for a moment, using her peripheral vision to keep an eye on the hired protection in the room before bowing her head a fraction in response. 

Satchel in her grasp, she went to leave, meeting the eyes of one of the Weequays before heading out of the office. She stepped over the still unconscious guard on the ground and continued down the hallway back towards the bar. 

The breath that slipped out through her lips caused her stomach to tighten a fraction as she closed her eyes momentarily.

That was too close. If she didn’t have to worry about the heat from the authorities, she’d probably have dealt with that piece of rankweed Belosar; the only one of his kind she had met who wasn’t in the Death Stick trade. Gerdon was something of a coward, but could weasel his way out of a lot of problems. She’d been warned he might pull a stunt like that, but it still caught her off guard when it happened. Thankfully she was able to get away without hurting anyone. 

Face now exposed, Arwen made a beeline for one of the more secluded bar counters at the back of the room where multiple bench seating areas resided. There were only a few other individuals at the bar, several seats down when she took a seat on the far right. Grabbing the rifle off of her back, she rested it against the bar between her and the wall before raising her hand in a small gesture for the bartender. 

“Be there in a minute, girlie.” Ignoring the man’s words, Arwen gripped her fist with her right hand, resting her chin on her thumbs. 

Despite feeling more at ease, her shoulders were still tight, and her back was tense. She needed to disappear for a while. After that phiasco, there would be bulletins out for her; she’d be on the HoloNet News probably. The police droids most likely snapped images of her; they’d have a loose idea of her face, but not enough to use recognition software. If she stayed low for a while, she might be able to stay on Coruscant but… She’d have to wait a long while before things cooled down. It might just be easier to leave. However she didn’t have enough loose credits to get off-world. 

She squeezed her eyes shut for a brief moment before running a hand over her hair that was braided off to one side; her bangs were loose and tousled from the hood she’d since removed. Movement on the other side of the bar counter caused Corcer’s eyes to lift, and she met the gaze of a human male.

“What can i get you?” 

“I’ll have an Ardees.” Something strong and bitter to ease her nerves. 

“If you don’t want the nonalcoholic version, I’ll need to see some identification.” The man responded, resting one hand on the counter. Her previous job didn’t exactly give her an identification card, much like in the Republic’s military. That was something civilians had.

Arwen closed her eyes momentarily before looking the bartender in the eye. Letting on hand slide away from the counter and to her lap.

“I just finished a job with Gerdon; that should be enough.” Arwen countered. If you knew the name, it was essentially a pass. This bar was named Lanter’s because that was the façade Gerdon used, and if you knew his real name you were involved in his work. 

The bartender’s expression flickered with mild uncertainty before he gave a curt nod and went to prepare the drink. 

Feeling her expression soften a bit, Arwen let her gaze fall to the counter before she returned both arms to the surface, balancing her elbows on the edge. 

Putting off a threatening vibe to everyone she came into contact with was tiresome; infuriating at times. It wasn’t really who she was, but she had plenty of anger to expel, which made it easier on days like this. That aside, most of these people were rotten anyhow.

The satchel settled in her lap, Arwen tapped her thumb against the back of the other as she waited. Letting her gaze bounce subtly around at the space off to her left, she lingered on a few different individuals before drawing her attention back. 

“Look a little tense there, kid.” The bartender announced, setting a glass down before pouring the liquid.

Arwen waited until he was finished and had pushed the glass closer before she grabbed it and downed it. She hid the grimace as the liquid burned her throat for a moment before setting it down with a grumble. 

“Close call on a job.” She decided to say. Bartenders sometimes made small talk; it was harmless enough and this guy wasn’t giving off a deceptive vibe. She could always tell that about people; read their character, at least in the moment. Something her squa… it was something some people she used to know would call her ‘special power’. 

“I’ve had my fair share of ones like you coming out with that look.” The man gestured towards her with the bottle of Ardees. “Boss sell you out on a job?”

Arwen eyed him for a moment, considering her options before giving a slight twitch of her eyebrow. “I’m sitting here aren’t I?” 

“That you are,” He chuckled, going to pour more of the bitter liquid into her glass once she had held it out. Filling the glass he set the bottle of Ardees down close enough for her to reach before patting the counter. “Help yourself, kid.”

Arwen simply gestured towards him with the glass before going to drink down more of the strong liquid. 

Once he walked away, she set the glass back down and cleared her throat. It had been months since she’d adopted the façade, but she still wasn’t used to the amount of alcohol she’d find herself consuming at times; even to appear to blend in with the criminal/low life element. The nature of her previous-... job… Prevented her from drinking often. And even then she didn’t really have a need to. Now she found herself with the occasional drink just to calm her nerves. Thankfully she could hold herself pretty well after consuming alcohol. 

Swallowing the remnants of the bitterness in her mouth, Arwen went to raise the glass again.

“Hey- the Commander wants us back by 2300.”

Her hand froze before the glass reached her lips, parted lips closing as she clenched her jaw. Keeping her posture where it was, Arwen looked out of the corner of her eye, turning her head only a fraction to the left as she quickly spotted the source of the familiar voice.

“Of all the bars you could think of - you chose this one? Seems a little… dicey.” Arwen spotted the four clone troopers heading to an oval shaped bar area in the center of the room, their backs to her as they came to the counter. 

“Maybe so, but not as bad as The Nexu’s Den; I heard they don’t even serve clones.”

“79s serves clones, and its not down here in the-”

“Don’t get your blacks in a bunch, this place is fine. The Corporal says he’s been here with some guys; they didn’t have any problems.”

Turning back to face the counter, Arwen’s grip on the glass in her hand tightened momentarily. 

These guys were on break. The authorities probably hadn’t even processed the incident involving her yet. And by the armor markings- these guys were probably back on leave. They wouldn’t be a problem. But all the same… She needed to leave. 

Grabbing some credits from the satchel, Arwen waved the bartender over before putting the small pile of money down, discreetly sliding it towards him. 

He took it with a nod but quickly noticed the amount far surpassed the bill for her drink.

“I- kid-”

“I wasn’t here.” Arwen cut him off, searching his expression for a sign of reassurance to her comment.

The bartender processed her words before ultimately giving a small dip of his chin, carefully moving the credits to his pocket.

Arwen patted the counter and gave him a nod in return before getting to her feet. Swiftly swinging the rifle over her shoulder and securing the satchel, she began heading out of the bar.

Her eyes drift off towards the soldiers at one of the main bars, all seemingly enjoying themselves and toasting their drinks.

At the sound of their laughs she clenched her jaw and looked away before continuing out of the establishment. Before her thoughts could dwell too much on her past however, a medium sized ball of fur suddenly crowded her at the entrance to Lanter’s Tavern.

“Hey Bek,” Arwen chuckled, kneeling a fraction to greet the anooba happily panting, hindquarters shaking with excitement. Kneeling down onto one knee, Arwen rustled the fur around his neck before leaning back in surprise at the smell of the animal’s breath.

“Whoa- what did you get into?” Arwen can’t help the smile that broke across her face as she got to her feet once more. “C’mon bud,” Heading down the walkway outside of the tavern, the Anooba followed eagerly. “Let’s get something to eat.”

It was around 2200 by the time Arwen got to her basecamp for the night. She couldn’t stay in a hostel because of Bek; most establishments didn’t allow animals, and even then, she couldn’t trust such establishments to be safe - especially with the heat that could be coming down on her soon. 

Fishing into the bag of food, Arwen pulled a couple of nuna jerky strips, holding one out to the Anooba who was waiting patiently.

She felt the smile tug at her lips as Bek didn’t waste time in beginning to chew on the meat. Lifting her own strip, Arwen peeled off a small piece before tossing it into her mouth. Her eyes rose to trace the skyline of Coruscant. Sometimes it looked alright… Right now it didn’t look too bad. The lights that covered the planet contrasted with the darkness of the sky; the lines of traffic were relatively calm; rush hour was long past. From her perch on the roof of a building she could see several notable structures, as well as multiple Republic cruisers in the distance.  

The sight of one Republic cruiser in particular caught her eye as it departed from the cruiser staging area; a Venator-class star destroyer. The familiar rumble of the engines of the large ship made her chest tighten as she stared longingly after the vessel as it took off towards the atmosphere. 

Drawing her eyes away, Arwen continued to pull at her jerky, putting a small bite-sized piece into her mouth. After giving a moment to consider it, she put the food away, having lost her appetite and pulled the satchel into her lap.

She felt the warm breath of Bek panting and looked up at him with an eyebrow raised.

“You had your share, mister.” The anooba only gave a small bark of protest before beginning his circles to lie down. 

Opening the satchel, Arwen looked over the credits and tousled them a bit before nodding to herself. It was more than she really needed. Not nearly enough to get off world, but half of it had a home to go to.

“Looks like we’ll have to hitch a ride to Saleucami, bud.” Arwen looked down at Bek, who had since curled up in a ball beside her. 

His head perked up at her words, ears standing at attention before his mouth fell open and he began panting again. 

Scratching along the standing fur of his back, Arwen gave her companion some well-deserved attention for a few minutes before resting back against the sloped structure acting as her bed for the night. One thing from her training she didn’t take for granted- learning to sleep anywhere and everywhere.

The Anooda next to her stretched his legs out, giving a yawn that showed off all of his teeth, and absence of the large front tooth, before settling back down. She had found him early on when she arrived on Coruscant. She had come across him while on a job, the target had ties to the animal trade; but when she found Bek, it was obvious he’d been used for dog fighting. He’d had his front tooth removed, a vital defense mechanism against other predators. Since the job he’d followed her around ever since; disappearing at times when she had jobs, but popping up hours later just as happy to see her. 

Adjusting her head where she laid, Arwen let her eyes gaze up towards the night sky. It was settled. She’d head off-word; get to the outer rim or at least away from the core words for a bit. She could head to Saleucami and meet up there with a friend before getting back to it. 

The Next Day…

She’d been to countless establishments - too many - looking for work. She needed a big payout to get off-world and she needed it fast. She was getting desperate. She’d visited at least two dozen locations now, and dealers and contacts that usually had plenty of jobs were coming up empty, or with jobs with too little a payout. 

There would be plenty of work in the outer rim, but getting there was the problem. Just hiring someone to get you there, in the middle of a war no less, was the problem. The only stipulation she had was how job offers would change the further from “civilized planets” she got; it would be harder to stay anonymous as a gun for hire out there. Regardless of that risk- she needed to get away from the Republic before they started tying her to any jobs. If they knew some of the jobs she’d taken out… One could just say she wouldn’t see the outside of a prison cell for the rest of her life. 

Not that she took “bad” jobs. She had been relatively consistent in keeping her jobs focused on the vile and corrupt; it was her methods of dealing with those people that the authorities wouldn’t agree with. And her… history with the Republic Military wouldn’t help matters. 

Coming to a slow stop outside of one of the last establishments she’d come to know, Arwen found her eyes meeting the sign above the building: One Round - just your average dicey bar, however like many of the businesses, there was always some morally grey business going on the side. Your average civilian would see the name of a bar like that and assume it meant one round of drinks, which it did. But in the criminal world, it also stood for one literal round, as in ammunition. She’d gotten some credible leads from the bartender that ran the establishment. Hopefully he had something. 

Walking inside, Arwen was quick to notice it was quite busy; more so than she’d expect it to be for the late afternoon. Bek trotted along at her side as she made her way to the back of the room where she knew Ramic, the bartender, would be. He seemed to spot her in the sea of people before she even did, and he waved her over to one end of the bar that was less crowded.

“Corcer,” He gave her a small acknowledgement as she stepped up to the counter and leaned forward onto it, not bothering to take a seat.

“Ramic,” Arwen responded in return, watching as he went about cleaning several glasses that littered the back counter.

“You lookin for the usual? Cause I hate to tell ya this, but I-”

“Actually, I’m looking for something a bit- stronger,” Arwen chose her words carefully as she watched the bartender’s movement and shifting expression.

He seemed to process her statement for a moment before looking over towards her.

“Stronger eh?”

Corcer dipped her head in response, forearms supporting her weight on the bar counter as Bek seated himself near her feet, facing away from the bar and towards the crowd. 

“... I might have something.” He seemed to be considering his words, his voice grew quieter. “It’s no easy feat I warn ya. Few others tried it, and it was a little too much for their tastes.” 

Shifting her weight around so her hands could clasp in front of her while she leaned on the counter, Arwen thought quietly to herself.

Most likely a high risk job. That might come with heat. She needed to be careful. Accept the wrong job and she could be in serious trouble.

“Have any other details?” She tried.

He gives her a small shake of his head, setting a couple more glasses down behind the counter.

“Sorry, kid. That’s all I know.”

Arwen nodded in response, the movement turning into a head shake as she internally cursed herself.

“Haar'chak - I’ll give it a shot.”

Ramic seemed hesitant, brow knit and hesitant eyes searched her for a brief time before he finally nodded and gestured towards the door a ways away from the bar. 

“Your man is back there.”

Arwen looked to him and then the door, seeing two guards. Standing up straight, she quickly tipped Ramic with what credits she had in her pocket before heading over. She didn’t miss the nod he gave to the guards, most likely a signal to her let pass.

They stepped aside and Arwen walked through the space and down a small hall. She’d never taken a job directly through One Round before. Usually Ramic would point her in the direction of work, but it never originated out of the bar. He owned the establishment; unless things had changed recently. 

Coming to the end of the hall, Arwen stopped at the final door. The muffled sound of the music from the other room was still within hearing range, but quiet enough that there must be sound dampeners within the walls of the hall and possibly the doors as well. Not a good sign. 

Arwen looked down at Bek, seeing the anooba looking at her expectantly. 

“You ready?” She deadpanned, cocking an eyebrow. 

The animal stepped back and forth between paws, something he did when excited before giving a small bark. 

She breathed out sharply through her nose in amusement before nodding. 

“At least someone is.” She mumbled to herself before pushing the control panel button for the door. It slid up with ease, and she quickly met the gazes of multiple individuals. The majority of them were human, however there was a Duros present, and a Rodian. Just by body language and appearance, she quickly picked out the potential client, and when her gaze landed on him expectantly, he seemed mildly impressed.

“If Ramic let you in, you must be fit for the job.” He evaluated her momentarily, gaze lingering on Bek for a moment before returning to her eyes.

“Care to enlighten me? Ramic was pretty sparse on the details.” Arwen cocked her head to the side lightly, taking a few steps into the room. Getting comfortable in her stance, she rested her hands on her belt. 

“Forgive him on that account,” The man had his hands clasped as he took a seat adjacent to a desk, facing her. “The nature of this task demands a certain level of delicacy. We can’t just have the details flying around, I assume you understand this.”

He was rather pale in his complexion, dark hair and a somewhat square jaw. He had a strong but almost dainty build, dark eyes and hair shaven down low to his scalp; didn’t look like the type to handle dirty work himself, but certainty had the deep pockets to have someone else do so. He evoked a certain confidence, but also perniciousness; it wasn’t enough to make her uncomfortable, but certainly cautious. There was something off about this job, she could already feel it. 

“Of course,” Arwen appeased him with the response, and he seemed somewhat delighted, but remained eerily at ease as he rose from his seat. 

“I need explosives planted at a certain location. A few have attempted other locations of the like, however they haven’t yet had success.”

Arwen swallowed in an effort to prepare herself to speak. This wasn’t the kind of job she was looking for. 

“Where would this location be?” She asked. 

“Destabilization is the key.” He all but ignored her question and continued with his subtle monologue. 

“Enough with the dramatics,” Arwen cut him off, causing him to slowly turn with a soured expression. “What is the job?” Her tone leaked with mild agitation, expression relaxed but set hard in a display of confident frustration.

His eyes fell to her boots, and to Bek for a moment before they rose once more and he pulled a hand-held holoprojector. Activating the device, a hologram of a location rose into the room. The space was dark enough that she could easily make out what was in front of her and she felt a cold sweat start to bead between her shoulder blades beneath her armor plating.

“That’s a Republic Military base.” She stated, looking the hologram over further despite not needing to second guess before turning her eyes to the client.

“Indeed it is,” He responded. “My superiors would like to see a blow struck to it. We need someone to go in and plant the devices in suitable locations; casualty high locations are preferred; barracks, mess halls, weapons depot... Locations that will shake the Republic's stability, and hurt its military power here on Coruscant; but most importantly, weaken the people’s faith in the Republic’s military might.”

Arwen was quickly thinking it over in her head as he spoke. No easy way out of this situation. If she turned the job down, it was very likely that they'd kill her right here. This could be a Separatist cell, it was a likely candidate. However it could also be a crime faction. Didn't seem Hutt related, although she couldn't eliminate that possibility. 

Taking in a steady breath, Arwen pulled her eyes away from the projection to meet the eyes of the client.

Ramic, needless to say, was caught off guard when Arwen slumped down into one of the stools in front of the bar.

“Well, how’d it go?” He puffed out a hard breath with amusement before going to pour something into a glass.

“You could’ve given me a little insight into my lack of choice in this job once I entered that room, Ramic” She offered, gesturing back with a thumb over her shoulder.

He gave her a subtly apologetic look before setting the glass down in front of her. “Sorry, kid, but if I told people that, then they wouldn’t be interested.” He chuckled and Arwen couldn’t help but do the same, however it was more so from the nerves if anything. 

“How’s it looking?” He leaned on the counter for a moment as Arwen took the glass and downed the drink rather quickly. He watched curiously before his brow knit and he pulled his lip tight. “That bad?”

“Worse. I’m not looking for that kinda heat; I get caught or this goes sideways and… It’s not looking great.” She tried to sum it up simply, but couldn’t really find the words. She still needed to process this herself, and also beat herself upside the head with something. 

Finishing the glass of the alcoholic beverage, Arwen set it down and patted the counter.

“Thanks for the tip.” As playfully reluctant as her tone may have been, the man seemed apologetic.

“Good luck, kid.”

Arwen pulled out some more credits, covering both the drink but also the job tip before giving him a lazy two finger salute. Briefly looking down at Bek, she made her way out of the bar. 

The client, who didn’t even provide a name, had given her a set of coordinates. Once there, she’d meet up with one of his associates who would provide her with the supplies she’d need to carry out the job. 

As she walked the upper streets and walkways of Coruscant she finally came to the end of the road. She’d call an air taxi and get relatively close to where she needed to go. Her eyes catch the sign above a building and she quickly realizes where she is; she’d been walking so blindly and ended up in the last place she should be.

The weakening daylight did little to dull the sign that blinked in bright neon colors: 79s. She knew it was one of the clone tolerant bars, even before hearing a trooper mention it last night. 

Feeling her back begin to tense, Arwen searched the skyline for incoming traffic, but found no air taxis in site.

“Great.” She muttered to herself. She could be here a while. 

Her rifle disassembled and hidden away in the satchel she’d acquired, she blended in alright. No one was paying her too much mind thankfully.

The various sounds, including the humming and rumbling of ships and speeders in the sky, as well as the chatter around her and music coming from the bar was distracting, but not enough to put her completely on edge. If anything she felt exposed where she was, it was pretty open and being at the corner of the walkway waiting for an air taxi was something she didn’t enjoy doing. 

Her ears perked slightly, picking out familiar voices in particular.

She cursed quietly through her teeth before glancing to her right, seeing several troopers a ways down the walk, huddled near the railing of the walkway. A woman was cozying up to one of them.

Her interest perked, Arwen allowed herself to watch quietly as the woman let her hands glide along the torso and chest plating of the trooper who looked especially nervous but equally exhilarated as the troopers around him seemed increasingly amused by the event unfolding. 

Arwen couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips before she forced herself to look away with a slight shake of her head. It was innocent enough. 

A couple moments passed, and Arwen felt a nagging feeling tugging at her to look again. Finally giving into the temptation, she spared a glance towards the troopers and the woman, only to have her eyebrows jump in surprise. 

She watched as the woman slipped a hand into one of the pockets of the trooper’s belt while he was distracted, snatching a few credits. 

Arwen felt her lips part in disarray and astonishment. As if those men had anything to begin with, you've got pickpockets preying on them now. 

The woman coddled him a little more before walking away in Corcer’s direction.

“Unfortunate,” Arwen muttered before adjusting the grip she had on her belt buckle. Taking a small step back, Arwen waited until the woman was close enough before smoothly and intentionally taking a wide step, tripping the woman and causing her to fall and the credits to go flying. 

The woman let out a startled cry as she landed awkwardly on her stomach, hands splayed out towards where the credits fell out of her reach. 

Arwen took several steps around the woman and picked up the scattered credits. People in the vicinity had noticed and the woman went to snap at Arwen once she got to her feet, but backed off once she got a better look. While Arwen was being rather discreet in her clothing, she still looked like a hired gun. That was for sure. 

Bek growled at her side, catching the woman’s attention as she seemed infuriated, quickly disappeared into the crowd, hands balled in fists. Rolling the credits around in her palm, Arwen hesitated a moment before taking a deep breath. Here goes nothing. 

“How much did you have on you?” She turned, walking towards the troopers who still wore expressions of surprise. 

“What?” One asked, familiar brown eyes wide. He was the one the woman was getting handsy with. 

“Credits,” She reaffirmed. “How much did you have on you?” She tossed them lightly in her hand.

“Um,” He swallowed and stuttered a bit further, subconsciously going for his pocket before he swallowed, trying to recall as his comrades looked on with amusement. 

Arwen took the moment the soldier was processing his thoughts to look him over. He looked so young. He must be pretty fresh off Kamino; the troopers with him looked about the same.

“Here,” She took the opportunity of him being distracted to lightly grab his wrist and push the handful of credits into his hand. It was probably three or four times as much as he originally had on him. “Watch those pockets, boys, alright?” She warned, a little taken off guard by the warmth in her own voice before she turned to leave. 

“Th-Thanks,” The statement was called after her. “Don’t tell the Sarg.” The second statement came quieter and Arwen smiled.

“When we get back to base you’re gonna-”

The smile fell away and Arwen drew her attention off of the soldiers. The base… right. The one she was about to… 

She walked for a while back the way she had come before finally grabbing an air taxi. After briefly squabbling with the driver over Bek’s presence, she finally got the Sullustan to take her where she needed to go. By the time she arrived at the destination, it was around sunset, and she met the associate on the roof of a building at the edge of the newly added Military district. The Republic’s main military base was within view; still under construction. It wasn’t the target she was being hired to hit. There were other military bases in the area. 

The Quarren seemed curious regarding her, or maybe surprised.

He chuckled as he handed over a large cloth bag full of the ordnance she’d need.

“Good luck,” He muttered before walking away.

Arwen felt somewhat sick as she held the bag strap in an iron grip before looking over her shoulder as the being left.

“Take as long as you need. But it shouldn’t take more than a few days tops.”

She clenched her jaw before reluctantly returning her gaze to the Coruscant skyline ahead, towards one of the GAR bases that was in view, but much farther than the base currently under construction. 

She gritted her teeth briefly before shaking her head, letting her voice slip out in a whisper. “What are you doing?”

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CHAPTER NOTE: Been stumbling over this chapter for a while, and I hope it turned out well! Getting Arwen’s introduction right has been causing me anxiety for a while so I hope she seems intriguing? Next chapter should be up soon! Next week with luck on my side 😁

Support in the form of a comment or reblog is very much appreciated if you had fun reading :)

[random-thought-depository]

So, in my last post I wrote this:

“Like … right now I’m planning out a story I intend to write in January; it’s supposed to be a kind of deconstruction of the Fremen mirage, and very much one of the thoughts going into it is “yo, a Proud Warrior Race would be a horrible society to live in or have as neighbors, we shouldn’t romanticize them!” and yet … I feel that the “bad guy” culture in it is much better, from a literary viewpoint, for me having given some thought to the material base of their society and how that would shape their culture. I could have just written them as flat edgelordy-grimdark barbarians, but thinking about their culture in materialist terms gave me a more complex and nuanced picture that I think will make for a more interesting and nuanced story and a fictional society that feels more interesting and human and alive.”

So, I want to infodump a little about this fictional culture I’ve thought up! I’m splitting this up into two posts because otherwise it’d be long in a way my Tumblr’s format is not kind to; in the first post I’m going to talk about the material base that defines this fictional society I’ve thought up, and in the second post I’m going to talk about more historically contingent features of their culture.

Note: for a lot of what’s in this post, I tried to make something hard SF-ish, but much of what I’ve written was the result of kind of “working backwards” from the sort of culture I was imagining to a material base that might create such a culture. So this is more playing with an idea than an attempt at anything particularly realistic.

Material base:

The basic political and economic unit of this society is the semi-self-sufficient space habitat community. These communities are about the size of a small town, I’m thinking thousands to tens of thousands of people (though I haven’t quite fixed it firmly, and anyway there’s wide variation; more successful communities are bigger). This town-size community lives in a semi-mobile space habitat, which I’m thinking is more-or-less a hollow cylinder spun for centrifugal gravity attached to a central spindle which is spacecraft construction facilities, engines, etc.. This space habitat contains enough hydroponic gardens, industrial machinery, etc. that the habitat can sustain itself completely independently for at least a few years. The space habitat has a rocket engine and a hyperspace engine, so it’s mobile, and these people are at least semi-nomadic, often moving their habitats when faced with opportunity or danger. The space habitat carries smaller spacecraft that can be detached and sent out to mine asteroids and KBO-type bodies, scoop helium 3 up from gas giant atmospheres, etc. and return these resources to the main habitat. Along with a closed life support system and efficient recycling, this makes such a community almost self-sufficient (though the almost qualifier is important, as I’ll discuss later).

People who are remembering Brett Devereaux’s last essay here may have noted a certain parallel with steppe nomads, with the main habitat being kind of analogous to the mobile but vulnerable main nomad camp where the non-combatants, livestock, and valuables are kept while the smaller resource-gatherer etc. craft are kinda analogous to the highly mobile horse-mounted war parties.

The reason these communities are so small is that their economies are not resource-limited but machinery-limited, labor-limited, and skilled specialized labor limited. Most raw materials these people may need are super-abundant to them, the bottleneck is transforming those raw materials into air, food, machinery, furniture, useful energy, etc. and maintaining efficient almost-closed loops of recycling. Sustaining a space community requires lots of complex machinery and lots of specialized skilled labor, and maintaining and replacing the machinery often requires more complex machinery (tools to make the tools) and more specialized skilled labor. Keeping humans alive in space is hard, so the return on investment from this is low. Therefore, these communities generally try to make efficient use of labor and maintain more-or-less the smallest viable population.

This implies reproduction within communities like this will probably be carefully controlled. A community like this must stay within a delicate balance; they must have enough people to do all the necessary labor with a comfortable safety margin to avoid situations like the only person with some important skill dying unexpectedly before they could train their replacement, but they must not have so many people that they strain the life support capacity of their habitat. That suggests reproduction usually tightly and deliberately controlled to stay at more-or-less replacement rate and no more.

It also implies a community like this will probably be quite communitarian and disciplined. Consumption will have to be tightly controlled. The means of production will probably be directly controlled by the political leadership. Its economy would probably look communist-ish to us, or maybe like a Bronze Age palace economy, with most necessities and luxuries being distributed basically as rations. Commercial transactions will be marginal to the internal economies of these communities; they’ll probably exist, but only in the form of informal mostly small-scale barter (think something similar to the cigarette economy that may exist in a prison), and they will not be anyone’s primary occupation or source of subsistence or power. Internal economic inequality within a community like this will be mostly a matter of status, not wealth; if somebody eats better it’s because they receive more and better food as an entitlement associated with their political office and/or social status, not because they own a big pile of gold that they use to buy food or something. Probably a community like this will be fairly economically egalitarian even if it is socio-politically unequal; if there’s a king he might have a somewhat bigger apartment, somewhat more and better food, a nice wardrobe of good-quality clothes with lots of bling, etc., but the difference in access to resources between him and one of his servants would be trivial compared to the difference in access to resources between me and a billionaire.

OK, but these people are supposed to be “bad guys” and a “Proud Warrior Race,” so where does that come in? Well, now let’s look at the economy of a community like this and ask: what might they need to get from other communities, and by extension what might they want to violently steal from outsiders?

Certainly not raw resources! If they want water, nitrogen, deuterium, iron, copper, platinum, etc. they can just send out a mining ship to an asteroid or KBO-like body to get some and bring it to them. If they want helium 3 they can just send out a scoop-ship to go down into the atmosphere of the nearest gas giant, gather some up, and bring it to them. And so on. Raw resources are mostly super-abundant to a culture like this and it would make no sense to risk injury or death stealing them from armed outsiders (there are a few exceptions to this that prove the rule, more on that later). So, if not raw resources, what?

Remember that their economy is machinery-limited. They need lots of complex machinery to survive, and then they need more complex machinery to repair and replace that complex machinery (tools to make the tools), and then sometimes they need tools to make the tools to make the tools, and so on. If each community had to be completely self-sufficient this might spiral out unmanageably. But it becomes much more manageable if they are just mostly self-sufficient and tap into larger commercial/industrial networks, e.g. a mostly planet-dwelling society with some orbital infrastructure and asteroid mining that has millions of people. Then if there’s the occasional hard to make spare part they can’t make themselves, it’s not a big deal, they can just send a trading expedition to get some of those parts from outsiders every ten years or so. Or if there’s some hard to make anti-viral drug they can’t make themselves, again, no big deal, they can just send a trading expedition to get some of it from outsiders every few years. A trading expedition ... or a raiding expedition.

Probably they would usually prefer to trade, humans usually prefer sharing or trading to violent theft because it’s less risky, violent theft means the possibility of injury or death (plus in this case complex machinery would be likely to get smashed up in a violent heist). A mutually beneficial trading relationship between a culture like this and a planet-dweller culture would be quite natural; to these people a planet-dweller society is rich in labor but poor in mineral resources such as platinum, while to planet-dwellers this space-dweller culture is rich in mineral resources but poor in labor and certain kinds of machinery and high value added finished goods. But here we have a potential basis for a culture that follows a Viking-style strategy of “if they outgun us, trade, if we outgun them, raid,” with the consequence of this culture’s relationship to other societies being a mix of trade and war.

Some raw resources may be worth stealing here; exceptions that prove the rule that for a space-dwelling culture like this raw resources aren’t worth stealing but value-added finished goods may be. For example, it’s theoretically possible to sift small quantities of naturally occurring antimatter from gas giant magnetic fields, and that stuff might be valuable for catalyzing fusion reactions. That might be worth stealing, because in a sense it’s a raw resource that’s kind of like a finished good; the difficulty is concentrating the very diffuse stuff; an antimatter capture facility with its Penning traps almost full might be worth raiding in the same way a big hoard of gathered acorns might be worth raiding for hunter-gatherers (this resource is abundant but diffuse, somebody else has taken the trouble to gather a lot of it into one spot, you can effectively appropriate their hard work by stealing the hoard). Similarly I could see this culture opportunistically intercepting freighters carrying helium 3, mined semi-refined asteroid material, etc., not so much stealing the resources as functionally stealing the labor of gathering and refining the resources.

There’s another thing a community like this might want to take from outsiders: people.

The economy of a community like this is also skilled specialized labor limited. In fact, that’s probably the more fundamental bottleneck: they can’t build and operate all the machinery they need to be truly self-sufficient because they don’t have the skilled specialist labor, and this is an equilibrium trap because trying to create more skilled specialist labor has a low return on investment for them; keeping a human alive in space is resource-intensive, and a new human probably won’t begin to give them a return on the investment for at least 15 years or so, likely longer (skilled specialized labor, so think e.g. doctors and engineers and literal rocket scientists; training them will take time). One way a community like this can adjust the equation to be more in its favor is to acquire skilled specialized laborers who have already been raised and trained by a different community; then they can skip all the investment in the child and go straight to benefiting from the labor of the fully trained adult.

There’s another reason a community like this might want to take people: genetic diversity. We’re talking about a small community, maybe a few tens of thousands of people, that is somewhat isolated. Inbreeding and lack of genetic diversity can kill small and isolated communities. As I said earlier, reproduction in a community like this will probably be extensively controlled, and I think one aspect of that might be controlling marriages to eliminate or minimize the risks associated with inbreeding. But it would be helpful if a community like this could assimilate some outsiders every generation, to increase its genetic diversity. So the community may want to assimilate even outsiders who don’t have any particularly in-demand specialist skills, to boost its genetic diversity.

Note: while this is a setting where aliens exist, it’s one that’s demographically dominated by humans, so most of the foreigners these people interact with will be other humans. This is significant here.

These two motivations synergize with each other. Most obviously, assimilating a skilled specialist outsider increases the community’s skilled specialist labor pool and also the community’s genetic diversity. But also, because of dynamics adjacent to Baumol’s cost disease, even relatively “unskilled” labor would be valuable in a community like this. Somebody who cleans toilets frees up somebody else to be e.g. a doctor or a nuclear engineer, in a much more reliable and direct way than is the case in a high-population capitalist society like ours. So even assimilating a relatively “unskilled” outsider could both increase the community’s genetic diversity and give it a real economic boost (as with a skilled specialist, compared to creating a new worker through natural reproduction and education, it’s a significant savings to the community if the new worker has been raised to adulthood by a different community).

I’m putting “unskilled” in quotes here cause I think when people say “unskilled” when talking about labor often what they are really talking about is “skills that are taught outside formal school institutions” or “skills that are transmitted but not taught.” I think “unskilled” in this sense is often a political term used to devalue people’s labor and justify people being paid little, worked hard, exposed to unpleasant working conditions, etc., so I don’t like using it ... but I can’t think of a better word to quickly communicate the concept I want to communicate here; I must work with the language my culture has given me. But I’ll put it in quotes here, to indicate I’m not using the concept uncritically.

Aside: you might think that a labor-limited community would make lots of use of robots and other automation, but I’m not sure that’d be true of these people. You’d think a futuristic super-Roomba would be a labor savings compared to a person with a simpler hand-pushed vacuum cleaner, but what about all the labor and machinery needed to make the Roomba? A Roomba represents a strategy of investing secondary sector labor to save tertiary sector labor, and that makes sense if you’ve got a big population and can build big factories so you can benefit from economies of scale, but it might not work as well for almost-self-sufficient small communities. A Roomba factory may be worth it if it saves the labor of a million human cleaners, but what about if it saves the labor of 100 human cleaners? A human is a very useful general-purpose gadget that can replace many specialized gadgets. So I think, counterintuitively, in a community like this you might actually see a lot of theoretically relatively easily automated manual labor being done by humans. This would synergize with a strategy of assimilating some relatively “unskilled” outsiders to increase genetic diversity; these people must be fed, given air to breathe, etc. like everyone else, so it would make sense to try to take advantage of their “as a human, they are a very useful general-purpose gadget that can replace many specialized gadgets” feature. Remember, this is a community that would want to make efficient use of labor and that would want to maintain approximately replacement rate reproduction.

As I said, humans generally prefer sharing or trading to violent theft, because violent theft is risky, and I think that would probably apply here too. Space communities like this would likely have traditions of peacefully “trading” people with each other. One relatively nice way this might happen is e.g. every ten years communities exchange groups of young volunteer emigrants. A less nice way is something like a political leader selling another community’s political leader a doctor and receiving as payment two relatively “unskilled” but young, pretty, and fertile women to be brides for his sons. But again, where trade is a possibility, violent theft is also a possibility. So along with stealing machinery and value-added finished goods, a primary goal of raiding may be capturing people; especially skilled specialists such as doctors, nuclear engineers, etc., but anyone who looks like they might make a good slave might be opportunistically abducted.

If this is starting to sound like nightmare fuel, you’re not wrong, but there is one significant mitigating factor. Remember that the most high-value and sought-after captives would be skilled specialists such as doctors, nuclear engineers, etc.. This is the kind of work where trying to extract labor from people by simple brutality doesn’t work well. You can’t just whip a computer programmer to make them code faster, and you really don’t want to anger the person who fixes the machine that makes the air you breathe, one of the people who tend the nuclear reactor that creates energy for your community, or the person who might do surgery on you. So the experience of being captured and enslaved by these people will often be less chain gang or Gor novel stuff and more “You are given a small but comfortable apartment, decent food, and moderate work assignments. It is made clear to you that bad things will happen to you if you make trouble or don’t work. If you obey your captors and do the work they tell you to do, they will be nice to you and treat you well. Their ultimate plan is to get you to become accustomed to your new life, make friends, get a boyfriend or girlfriend and make a child or three with them, and in this way become sufficiently invested in your new community that you wouldn’t want to go home even if you could.”

Of course, let’s not be too charitable to people who are basically enslavers; that’s how relatively high-value captives are treated, less valued captives are at much more risk of physical and sexual abuse, reproductive coercion, and unsafe and unpleasant working and living conditions.

If you’ve read James C. Scott’s The Art of Not Being Governed and Against The Grain, this may remind you a little of Mr. Scott’s thesis that for much of the history of civilization states were labor-limited, not land-limited. Mr. Scott’s work was a big inspiration to me when I was imagining this culture. Someday I might make a post talking about how I think “the purpose of war isn’t to acquire resources, it’s to acquire people, infrastructure, and machinery” is one of the more plausible paradigms for war in space, but this is long enough so I’ll leave that for another day.

Earlier I drew an analogy between the resource gatherer ships of these people and the war parties of steppe nomads. The context I’ve described here makes the analogy much better. Communities like this won’t just carry resource gatherer ships, but also raiding ships, built for raiding and heavily armed. This also implies violence will be a substantial factor in the life of a community like this; either they will have a significant class of professional warriors, or raiding and preparing for raiding will be a significant part of the average person’s life. I’m going with the first option, which is how you get a Proud Warrior Race instead of weekend-warrior types; as is usual in cases like this, the “Proud Warrior Race” is actually a specific privileged class within this society, and when you read that they are proud you should think of it in that context. I’ll talk about that a lot more in my next post, in which I’ll talk about these people as a culture instead of just as an economy.

[scriptstructure]

I always imagine my stories like a movie but I realise that writing down scenes makes the pacing way different. I mean in a movie I can imagine a scene that's mostly showing characters entering and being awed at a spectacular location for a full minute.. but if I wrote it all out yet it's boring to spend a full minute reading a description of the same thing. How do I work out such pacing differences?

Sorry an add on to the pacing act I just sent. Pacing in a movie is fixed. But readers read at their own speed and can slow down or speed up as they please. How do I deal with pacing with this in mind?

Well, first off, who says pacing in a movie is fixed? If readers reading faster or slower changes things, what about folks who watch stuff at x1.25 speed? What about me, who can’t watch a whole movie or show without pausing it fifty times to get up and do or get something? What about also me who pauses a show whenever something embarrassing happens so that I can get up and do a stress lap of the living room? 

It doesn’t matter what the reader or viewer does during their consumption of the text, that’s their business. All you’ve got to do is write the story as well as you can.

As well, I think that you’re vastly overestimating the length of time that movies can focus on a single establishing shot/ reaction shot. Unless the shot is playing over the opening credits, as in the credits are rolling over the screen while the camera moves over a large area, establishing shots are going to be like 10-15 seconds, max. Any longer and it starts putting off the structure of the film, making it feel weird and laggy.

Of course this has shifted over time as editing methods have changed in filmmaking, and you’ll find that older movies have longer shots, and feel much slower. Modern films tend to have much snappier editing, and want to pack in a lot more action-per-minute.

An interesting example of a film which I think deliberately uses extra long establishing shots to create an eerie, and unsettling effect, is Death in Venice (1971 dir. Luchino Visconti) which has multiple extra long establishing shots at many points through the movie. It’s unsettling, because it builds so much tension in shots of 20-30 seconds that it makes the following scenes of ostensibly lighthearted, drama-free interaction between the characters feel brooding and sinister, which very well suits the arc that the protagonist goes through. Good film, weird. I enjoyed it.

So, while sure, it can seem like establishing and reaction shots in film take up a lot of time, I tend to think that what’s really happening is that you’re getting a lot of memorable imagery and information presented very clearly for a longer period than most shots allow.

But how is this done in prose writing? We don’t have control over how long it takes the reader to absorb a page of the story. And we don’t have to. That’s not something that you need to be thinking about. Instead, what we think about is how much space on the page it takes to conclude this bit of description.

I have a post [HERE] about how paragraph length can affect pacing, mood, and flow of scenes.

I know I tend to hammer on about the necessity of including descriptive elements in with the action so that we don’t end up with bogs of exposition slowing things down. But if you do want to slow things down, using a bit of dense description to emphasise the importance of a certain thing can be done. Lets call it the Castle on the Hill.

Look, our characters have been travelling through the magical forest for a long time, fighting gnomes and eating bread and cheese and falling into enchanted rivers. When they emerge from the forest, crest a rise and see the shining Castle on the Hill before them, of course they’ll take a moment to enjoy it and drink in all that highfalutin atmosphere.

So slow it down, think about how your focalising character’s/ narrative voice’s attention is going to process the scene–this can tell us about a character’s priorities, too. Are they looking at the pretty flags flying from the tops of the towers? Or are they considering how difficult it will be to swim across the moat if they have to make a quick getaway?–and think about crafting elements that tell the reader what exactly makes this place special.

Now, I do want to point out that it can be a tough balancing act to prevent your Castle on the Hill from sliding into a Bog of Exposition. Remember above where I was talking about the deceptive brevity of establishing shots? Here’s where that applies to prose. You probably don’t want to take more than half a page to describe this amazing, pivotal vista.

If you’re really going to stretch it, or if there’s something interesting happening while the scene is being set, you might push it to a page, but much more than that and it starts to feel distinctly marshy underfoot.

Another thing to consider is that in movies, they can just put a brief shot of an army on horseback thundering across the field toward a line of soldiers, and you’ve got that information in your head. When we’re writing, we’ve got to do it like I did in that previous sentence there, building all of the elements in the scene so that the reader has the material needed to imagine it fully.

When you’ve got a big scene to set up, think about all of the material elements that you want to convey, the sensory information that will help to make it seem real, and then think about the emotion that you want to evoke, and finally how it’s going to lead into the action of the scene that follows on from it.

I hope this helps!