#but rather becoming more prevalent. it really makes me sad
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Every time i open a video and i see some male youtuber sponsored by manscape i shake my head because instead of taking aesthetic pressure (in the form of hair removal, in this case intimate hair removal) out of women, we're just extending it to men
#when i say ''we'' i actually mean like. corporations#but it does make me sad that the concept of body hair being bad unhygienic unattractive and disgusting is not being eliminated#but rather becoming more prevalent. it really makes me sad#@ women & men & nb folks: your body hair is nice. it's good. it's not inherently dirty. just keep your body clean.#blabla
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hi if u dont mind i would love a mafia x male spy reader (gn if you ur not comfy with that) so the mafia boss pretends to be the mission partner for the reader just for fun he almist kileed the reader on multiple occasions but the reader misunderstands and thinks that the mafia boss was just helping him albeit in a weird and rather violent way and although reader has a suspicion that his partner (the mafia boss) isnt who he says he is due to skme odd similarities between him and the target of his mission (that being the Mafia boss) and the fact that his partner could easily waltz in notorious criminals manors and party and one day everything just clicks for the reader and they try to escape but the mafia boss knew thus so he kidnapped em and the live happily ever after (idk how to end this so just do what you deem fit ty!!!)
(oh yeah its fine if ur not comfortable or just don't want to make my request im not paying you so you hqbe no obligations to do so remember to take care of yourself <333 /p)
(and if i could could i become 🦀 anon)
Yes! Welcome, 🦀 anon!
Yandere Mafia Boss x Spy Reader
M yan x gn reader (sorry, I prefer to do gn for non-nsfw asks)
TW - general yandere behavior, drugging, implied kidnapping
Your mission was simple, at least on paper. Simply gain intel on a notorious mafia boss. But if it was that easy, you wouldn't have been working at it for so long.
It didn't help that your partner for this mission was...unusual. Not a bad guy, really, just strange. Sometimes you almost thought he was trying to kill you. You'd often catch him staring at you. You even felt his gaze when you swore no one was around.
Not to mention, danger was ever prevalent around him. He always managed to save you, though. But his face did often look rather annoyed...you just assumed he was one of those people with a really bad rbf.
But it was also suspicious how he was able to so easily and casually waltz into the homes or parties of very high-profile people. People you'd never be able to get near without months of careful planning. Maybe he just had good connections?
But all these coincidences were getting a bit too...convenient. If you needed to get in somewhere, he got you in the front gate. If you needed something, he miraculously had it only a day or two after at the latest.
And worst of all, you still haven't managed to track down this damn mafia boss! It didn't help that nobody knew what he looked like.
"Maybe he's right under your nose." His deep voice startled you out of your thoughts. His arm was wrapped around your shoulder, holding you close. Despite his cold exterior, he was pretty touchy and clingy. But...sort of sweet. You were glad to have met him, even if this mission was looking like a bust.
"But where? Where haven't we checked?"
"Well, our organization may be high security, but not impossible to infiltrate for a man like that." Was he implying that one of your own coworkers could be your target? Impossible!
But...now it all seemed to come together. Those coincidences...weren't just coincidences. He really has been right under your nose this whole time.
No wonder he could go wherever he wanted and get anything he desired. He had power and influence...more than you thought.
"I-Impossible! Our organization has the highest security possible! I'd know if someone like that could be...beside me..." It was a sad attempt to cover up your newest theory, but also to try and reassure yourself. If this was true, then you weren't as good of a spy as you thought...
You got up, or tried to at least. He kept his grip tight on you.
He knew.
"I can't just let you go now. You know my identity. So I'll just have to keep you as my newest little toy." In seconds his arm lowered to prevent you from moving your arms as he quickly used his other to cover your mouth and nose with a rag.
Chloroform.
"Just sleep...Be a good pet and I'll be sure to reward you very well..." Despite your struggling, sleep soon took you. No one ever heard from you again...no one but him, of course.
I'm sorry, this one feels so rushed and short, I was having a tough time getting inspired 😭
Forgive me, 🦀 anon, for I have failed
#blarsh writes#x reader#yandere#yandere x reader#male yandere#male x reader#yandere x you#anon ask#yandere x darling#yandere x male darling#male yandere x reader#male yandere x you#yandere x y/n#yandere mafia#mafia yandere#mafia boss yandere#yandere mafia boss
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Will and Alyss are trans here’s my essay
We talk a lot about how funny it is that Flanagan unintentionally wrote the gayest love story between Halt and Crowley in TEY, but holy shit we don’t talk enough about how he also managed to accidentally write the two most trans characters ever.
Alyss and Will being trans is a semi-popular headcanon that’s been in the fandom for ages now, but I haven’t seen many people really dive into why this headcanon is so prevalent. I think that partially has to do with the fact that, like any lgbtq+ identity, it’s pretty difficult to clock someone as trans without relying on trans stereotypes. Really, any character in the RA series could be trans if you chose to believe it since being trans doesn’t look any certain way. That being said, I do think there are some pretty clear qualities and experiences that Will and Alyss have that feel very close to my own experience with being transgender.
Physical appearance is usually the first thing people point out/notice when talking about this headcanon. Will is short, more so than one might expect from a cis man. Alyss is taller than most men and also has a deep voice. I have mixed feelings about people pointing to this as the only reason they think they’re trans. I mean, it makes enough sense for it to be the only reason since one part of being trans is the fact that one’s body doesn’t match their gender identity. What I don’t like about that being the only reason is that there’s so much more to the trans identity and experience than “body don’t match :(“
But that’s the cool thing about Will and Alyss, their physical appearance effects their perception of themselves the same way it does for a trans person (or a cis person really, but it feels much more prevalent in trans people). In the first book, Will is clearly uncomfortable with his height; almost any time it’s brought up, he replies with “I haven’t had my growth spurt yet”, almost defensively. Then, as Will becomes more comfortable with who he is, you can see it bother him less and less. I love this bc it’s exactly what happened with my dysphoria as I transitioned. The more I got to know myself and discover myself, the less my dysphoria bothered me.
As for Alyss, she is so clearly so confident with her appearance. She never tries to hide her height or voice. Although we don’t get to see her journey with those qualities, the way she’s so confident feels like something the earned. It’s something she maybe used to feel insecure about, then decided she gets to decide what femininity means to her. Her height and voice contribute to her elegance and femininity rather than contradict them.
Another thing about Will is his name and how it relates to his identity. I know Flanagan didn’t intend for any of this to be some trans allegory, but goddamn can I relate my trans experience to it. Will grew up without a last name, and you can see how deeply that effects him. It wasn’t just that he was “Will no-name”, he was missing a part of his identity. Hell, he said verbatim “at least you know who you are” to a fucking owl because he felt so confused and unheard (which btw is the most edgy teen thing he ever did).
Though you can see this missing part of his identity bother him less as he gained a support system, it’s still clear that he felt like something was missing. If he didn’t feel like something was missing, he wouldn’t have been so incredibly happy when he became “Will Treaty”. And when he got his last name, you can tell he’s proud, not because he finally has an identity, but because he finally has a name to match the identity he’s spent so long discovering and cultivating. He no longer expresses any sadness or grief that he doesn’t have his father’s last name, because he doesn’t need it to know who he is. He’s Will Treaty, and he’s perfectly happy with being exactly that. This is the most trans-coded naming experience holy shit.
Anyway that’s all I have to say about this (for now at least). Go give your local trans friend a kiss.
#rangers apprentice#will treaty#alyss mainwaring#trans will treaty#trans alyss mainwaring#ranger's apprentice#trans
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On Maglor’s Fate
(and why it’s a good thing)
I’ve seen several excellent posts by people far more knowledgeable about HoME than I pointing out that Maglor’s fate in the published silm – wandering the shores in eternal lament – was in fact taken by Christopher Tolkien from a single draft of the legendarium, and that JRRT’s later conception of Maglor’s fate was that he died by suicide at the same time as Maedhros, casting himself into the sea along with his Silmaril. This is a very good point, but despite the fandom’s general lack of adherence to published silm canon (see the prevalence of crispy Amrod truthers, or the lack of consensus on Gil-galad’s parentage) most people seem to have cleaved rather strongly to the idea of Maglor’s survival. Why?
Well, I would like to argue, because it’s SO much more interesting.
Of course, your headcanons are valid! If you prefer thinking that Maglor died at the end of the First Age, go for it; most of the texts support you! But for all the Maglor girlies (gender-neutral) out there, here’s a non-exhaustive list of reasons why Maglor’s survival is better, more satisfying storytelling, and you should continue to cling to this one outdated draft of the silm.
It fits Maglor’s arc better. For such a popular character, I always find it interesting that Maglor is only really developed in the final chapter of the silm – but what we do get in that final chapter is so fascinating. He takes pity on Elrond and Elros, he speaks against stealing the Silmarils, and, most pertinently to my point here, he effectively relinquishes his claim to Eärendil’s Silmaril. The straight line from "its glory is seen now by many, and is yet secure from all evil", to wanting to surrender to Eönwë, to actually throwing a Silmaril into the sea is SO delicious. A lot of that character growth is wiped out if Maglor instead casts both himself and the Silmaril into the sea.
It better sets up Maglor as a foil to Maedhros. I will never shut up about how Maglor's last debate with Maedhros is the best and most heartbreaking dialogue in the book. Its construction is exquisite, and one of the things I love about it the most is the way they mirror each other's words, becoming, in a way, reflections of each other. ("Who shall release us?"—"If none can release us...") All of Maglor's actions in the final chapter are in direct contrast to Maedhros': compare the fostering of Elrond and Elros with Maedhros' failure to save Eluréd and Elurín, and then consider why it is that Maglor still seems to have some hope that things will all work out (which is why he wants to surrender) while Maedhros despairs completely. That contrast makes it important to me that Maglor reacts in a different, more optimistic manner than Maedhros to the Silmarils burning them. ("More optimistic" by the bleak bleak standards of the end of the silm, at least.) I also really like the kidnap fam parallels of Elros and Maedhros both choosing death in very different ways, whereas Elrond and Maglor both choose life - E&E almost repeating M&M's decisions in a healthier and more wholesome manner.
It better preserves Maedhros' arc. Leading on from the last point, but, I think, separate. Maedhros' suicide, in addition to being just ridiculously tragic, is fascinating. The despair, the profundity of the realisation that it was all for nothing, the idea that Maedhros, who spent decades as a captive of Morgoth, is the one person knows exactly what being burned by the Silmarils means - aahh it's so good I can't dissect it all here. But do also consider Maedhros begging Fingon to kill him, and how he finally got his wish, centuries later! That terrible fall from grace is Maedhros' story. I think having Maglor also die by suicide actually diminishes Maedhros' tragedy, with the rather perverse outcome that two deaths end up being less sad than one.
Unresolved endings are good. This is a rather more personal one, tbh - but I love those last messy loose ends, and Maglor's survival is a quintessential one. Don't the great tales never end? There is, of course, so much excellent fanfic potential in Maglor still wandering Middle-Earth into the Second and Third Ages. Here's a legend from the Elder Days, and you can have him stroll into Rivendell if you want! So much more satisfying than neatly wrapping the story up and tying a bow on top.
As far as I can tell, Tolkien's own reasons for having Maglor die instead were that he wanted Galadriel to be the last surviving leader of the rebellion of the Noldor; I've also seen it argued that Maglor needs to die so that Celebrimbor can be the last surviving Fëanorian. To be honest, I don't think Maglor's survival does much damage to either of these arcs. He's effectively a non-entity after the First Age; the text specifies that he "came never back among the people of the Elves". So you can definitely prefer a version of canon where Maglor lives without losing all those Very Important Feelings about Celebrimbor!
There are, of course, myriad self-indulgent reasons why you might also prefer to think Maglor doesn't die. Maybe you just like him and it would be too sad if he dies; maybe you ship him very specifically with someone born in the Second Age; maybe you just want Elrond to have one thing left after everyone he's lost. I didn't include these in the above list because that was attempting to focus more on literary reasons why Maglor's survival makes for a better story, but they are all so valid and I agree with all of them! But hopefully Points 1-4 can be emphatically whipped out the next time someone implies that the fandom is clinging to Maglor's survival for solely sentimental reasons. There are good, solid grounds for wanting Maglor to live, we promise! It actually improves the story!
you're just jealous our blorbo survives and yours doesn't—
#silmarillion#meta#my meta#maglor#maedhros#the line of miriel#chris actually got some things right guys#this is one of them#cw suicide
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Specific and niche theories I have about the Are You Afraid of the Dark? reboot #1: Trauma theory
(Edited to fully explain Curse of the Shadows and Ghost Island instead of leaving the ideas half-realized)
Okay, so
Each season is a metaphor for or thematically connected to some kind of common trauma or something kids within the age demographic could relate to.
Let me explain.
After watching Carnival of Doom a few times, I interpreted it as a story about abuse and unearthing traumatic memories. Rachel assumed that her nightmares/night terrors were just really hyperspecific, even to the point of mentioning it in her own story almost offhandedly, until it actually came back to haunt her and she had what I could only describe as a precursor to a panic attack at the end of episode 1/beginning of episode 2. In episode 2, while the other midnight society members are generally threatened with their fears that one in each pair had said out loud in the carnival's perimeters, Rachel is almost fucking drowned in the tunnel of love halfway through talking about her emotions with a guy she trusts. Between her and Gavin, neither had mentioned their fears of anything similar during the episode unless Rachel's fear isn't as obvious. Mr. Tophat spends the entire story trying to isolate Rachel as much as possible from people she could easily trust, taking her first friend in a new town, her (probably) first love interest, the only adult that bothered to actively investigate everything, and all of her remaining friends in the climax of the last episode. The only reason she managed to win in the end was because she had friends that stood by her in her lowest moments. There's much more to this that I didn't write, but some of it relies on Freudian analysis of the scorpions and I don't know if that constitutes as valid evidence. It's also been a while since I watched all three episodes in succession.
I interpreted the theme/motif of Curse of the Shadows to be depression, but not obviously. Rather the effects it has on other people. Shadowman is literally a creature born of loss and deep sadness corrupted into a shadow that will kidnap children that enter his domain to fill the void of loss. In the first two episodes, Luke actively blames himself for Connor's disappearance in a way that's similar to how some people blame themselves for the effects of a friend or loved one's depression (taking from personal experience). The second half of the plot hinges on Connor becoming a literal shadow of himself, void of interest in anything other than making sure the rest of the midnight society suffer the effects of the curse (exemplified when Gabby proves Connor isn't who he says he is when he agrees to watch a zombie movie with the others, a genre that the real Connor isn't fond of). During episode 5, a majority of those who end up getting snatched by the shadows end up accepting their fate that they probably wouldn't make it out of there completely unscathed. It's their determination to break the curse that keeps their misery from trapping them. Their solution is to literally go back in time to keep the grief and sadness that caused the shadowman's existence from happening, leading to a literally better and brighter future. It was the midnight society's determination to help each other at their lowest points that lead to a better ending.
Ghost Island actually takes a lot from Curse of the Shadows, but seems to be more about grief and the grieving process. The plot hinges on the connection between Kayla and her dead twin sister Bella. Grief is also a prevalent plot point, whether it's the midnight society members and their feelings about Bella, Max grieving the loss of finding out he's no longer technically alive, Lucia's grief over her dead love kicking off the curse in the first place, or Bella having a conversation with Kayla in the mirror realm about grief and moving on before the climactic end of the series. Even the main villain of this season, Jonas Cutter himself, briefly feels regretful of betraying Lucia before shoving that feeling aside as he shoves Lucia back into room 13's bathroom mirror. The final scene also makes a poignant point, with all of the ghosts gathering around the midnight society's campfire as they tell their first story since Bella's passing and truly continuing both her and the group's legacy.
The point is I could easily make a video essay full of quotes specifically about how prevalent and important I find this theory, since we live in a world where it's becoming more mainstream for children within the show's age demographic to explore their own issues and traumas and talk about them.
Or this is just a fringe theory. I'm not really here to argue about its validity.
#ayaotd#are you afraid of the dark#abuse mention#I spent too much time thinking this out#but when I had the initial realization it hit me like a train#specific and niche theories
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shitting myself
part 2
This was a similar phenomenon that I had used to equate these feelings in elementary as well I suppose, there were a few classmates in my class who I thought I had a crush on due to these feelings of wanting to be like them, but it was something I cared way less about as a kid cause kids don't know what it is to fucking "like" someone. anyways as I entered middle school and became 11 years old, these romantic confusions became more prevalent. In 5th grade I had met a friend who I looked up to so much. He had moved to my school from Georgia, and quickly made friends. He had incredible confidence, smarts, talent, charisma, and had the kindness to become friends with my, which was something I found very difficult growing up. As me and this classmate entered middle school, and I got to know him in a bit more of a mature way, and just as I got to generally know him better, I had thought all these things I looked up to were romantic feelings. At some point in 7th grade, this friend had "asked me out" lol, as much as a 12 year old could I suppose. I think at this time this was something that made me happy, but now that I look back on it, it was not because I felt the giddiness of having someone you liked ask you out, but more so the adoration of someone you looked up to recognizing you in a special way. The friends I had at the time loved to want to make us hold hands and hug, but that was never really something we ever did, maybe he was shy, but I simply was just not interested, nor wanted to do something like that. Because of complicated traditional family reasons, my mom had found out I was "dating" this person, and had me "break up" with him in a text message, which my friend very obviously did not take kindly to. He was quite upset at the time. I was a bit upset by this turn of events as a kid, but it wasn't really too effecting on me. I think I was more upset when I thought I would lose his friendship when he was mad at me, rather than the "sadness" of us no longer being "together". This was because honestly, as soon as we went back to being friends I was perfectly fine, he even started dating my friend which probably would have bothered me if I really actually liked him, but honestly it made me happy at the time to see my friends happy together LOL. Anyways, how this translated to characters I looked up to during this time, I became obsessed with characters like Kaneki and Rin from blue exorcist. Kaneki to me, was a complicated character who overcame great odds as someone who hated himself so much, to creating happiness in his life, and as a kid growing up who had no idea how to overcome these feelings, it was something I looked up to greatly. Rin was confidant, expressive, able to stand up for his thoughts and ideals, with the strength to get what he wanted, which were also traits I loved and wished I could inherit. These two characters particularly were characters I loved greatly during that time. I again confused them for fictional crushes LOL but again now that I have the matured mindset it wasnt really like that at all. even physically I would say I found them attractive characters, but like first of all they arent real, and B I think I just wanted to look like them rather than he attracted to them in that sort of sense I guess... because I would cosplay them and stuff like that LMAO rather than like kid thirst or whatever lol, anyways this continued to carry through with an especially important character to me at 13, Shinji lol.
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19/6/23
3:47pm
I’ve been feeling weird today. Sort of off-centre, out of sorts. It’s halfway through the day and whilst I had a short, busy morning after a night of fragmented sleep with distressing dreams the nap I had hasn’t made me feel any better mentally, though it did help with the physical tiredness.
I opened tumblr, thought to write. Not to write about anything in particular though, just to see what might come about if I actually tried. If I actually did it. Suddenly, I’m crying and I can’t even tell why. I think there’s a lot of emotion built up inside me and whilst I try and think things over, think through all I’m feeling, it doesn’t reach out in quite the same way as writing things down or talking them out verbally.
It was Father’s Day yesterday and I stayed busy, partly to keep my mind off of it. Second one without him, and that day last year I remember being in a coach station, waiting to travel to my house, feeling utterly lost and alone and disbelieving of what my life was. What it had become. I still reel, still have so many mixed emotions, some that are so unfathomable I can’t even begin to try and think to name them, and some that I’m afraid to name.
I have a lot of shame, a name for an emotion I’m deeply and unwillingly familiar with. Why can’t I just be present with my grief? Why do I push it off so constantly, and try to simply endure? I do it. I think of every day as an act of endurance, but I don’t remember the last time I truly thought of it as willing. I’m tired and sad and I think of him every day and honestly I also feel tired and sad every day. These are the prevalent emotions, and states that I exist in. Tired, sad, guilty, ashamed.
I’m always thinking about so much but at the same time I lose sight of how to be constructive, how to make sure that my thinking and worrying and constant contemplating is helping me rather than hindering. I think myself in circles. What am I looking for? Am I looking for anything at all?
I miss him more than anything.
I miss what my life was. I hate that his ended the way it did, when it did and that there’s no further chances for him to live it. There were things he wanted to do! There were things I wanted to do with him. Live, suffer and die. Rinse and repeat, why is this what being alive is?
Rationally I want to say that it’s not what being alive is. Living is whatever you make it, but it’s really not that simple and for all the knowledge I have, though I guess this is really just my own perspective - that is what his life was like before he died. Wake, work, eat, sleep. Pay bills, stay inside. Suffer.
When he got injured? I don’t know because I wasn’t there.
Hurt, I guess. Stress. Brush it off. Wake, work, eat, sleep. Pay bills, stay inside. Begin to rot.
Get hospitalised, never wake up. Die in a cold bed in a cold room in a cold building. The shell of a body clings to life until some family members come and say goodbye.
It was a beautiful day outside when my world ended! When that line went flat, when that heart rate hit zero. It was April 22nd, 2022.
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More rant - Teaching
Here comes rant #2 about my teaching struggles. Coming from aspiring soon-to-be high school teacher to extremely grumpy old-but-young uni ‘teaching assistant’, I think the system has really killed my dream of teaching.
I love teaching, for I love helping people understand, which is always an amazing feeling. I have had helpful teacher and shitty teacher, normally the later one is more prevalent, so I want to help the world a bit by becoming the first one.
However, the two main things that killed my passion are: the fact that people care more about grades than knowledge, and the fact that people are lazy.
The first point covers a lot - from how students were encouraged to drop to ‘easier maths’ because they are struggling. I remember a student in my maths class, not the worst but didn’t put in enough effort to be the best, told me that she used to be ‘very good at maths’, but ‘something happend in year 10 and now I can’t catch up’. I keep wondering what was that something - why are our ladies not getting maths? Is it because we focus too much on quantitative achievement that left them no time to actually learn? Or that we don’t trust their ability enough because they are nor performing, so that they end up not trusting their own abilities? My students would calculate how much they need to pass (50% let’s say), and stop working right after they hit that point. Fair enough, maths isn’t for everyone, but it still makes me sad. Others would kept asking “what’s the percentage of this? Does that count towards my grade?”, others from the uni course I tutored last year realised quickly they could get more marks from writing reports than working on the product, and quickly shifted their focus. They got good marks, sure, but I was not happy letting them get that mark - it does not reflect their level of knowledge.
Some argued that marks don’t matter in the end, give them what they want and they would eventually fail in solving problems irl. But - I feel sad because I don’t want anyone to fail in irl, that’s too late for them! Even though they might not be good students, it doesn’t mean they are not human and do not deserve to succeed. But on the other hand, if they decide to not work on learning new knowledge, then there really isn’t much I could do...so I guess I’m stressed seeing them, caught up in the frenzy for good and fast grades, not knowing that everything in life has a price...back to Zweig we go.
Plus, when the industry and society values grade, there is not much I can do to change that - I think this realisation was what really discouraged me, that this is far beyoud me. I cannot help them realising grade is useless without knowledge, it is not a deciding factor, and it means nothing, because it means everything everywhere else, except it shifted from grade to performance, to meeting KPI, to ranking...when can we stop and appreciate knowledge and skills that we have without comparing with others?
Second point is more infuriating at times as this people can change. I have soooo many students come to me expecting me to baby them, basically. They expect me to explain everything to them until they understand, expect me to answer queries at 10pm, expect me to bend over for them because they are the ‘customer’, to help them with every assignment, to support unconditionally. This is not everyone, of course, but oh boy am I annoyed about how arrogant and self-centred some people are - just, who do you think you are? Who do you think teachers are? Or rather, who do the universities think teachers are - servants, sort of, because students bring money. Unhappy student is bad business, so do everything to keep them happy. Working more overtime, create more resource, help them more, the customer need to be pampered. I hate it. Take some responsibility ffs, debug your own code, search up your own problem, try to stand on your feet a little bit before asking questions! I will ask you what you have done, I will point you to resources, I will try not to explain anything to you unless you have tried something. Do not be an ungrateful bastard. Of course I can choose not to fill their expectation - this goes back to the uni argument I had. But also, this goes to our general idea and goal in education. I know there are other tutors who are happy to explain things straight away, thinking that this is the best / they have to when students ask them / they didn’t really think about it. In uni we don’t get the best educators as tutors, yet tutors are whom the students will interact, face-to-face, for most of their uni life. We need better uni tutors (and more stability!!) to deliver better classes with consistant quality. I probably should put this on Linked lol...
What I do really dislike is students, getting no direct help from me, go to another tutor instead and get a comprehensive explanation. Not that I don’t like to explain stuff, but I think repetitive explanation is useless and a waste of time - hence self-learning is essential especially with all the resources we have made already. If we could just all keep a high standard and a hard stance in referring, eventually students would learn to learn themselves.
God, I really really am angry about those who chose to not try, to rely on other people to teach them what’s up, and to only care about grade. That’s not my vision. Maybe I only want to teach those who want to learn, but that’s not how teaching works, I guess. One day maybe I’ll come to terms with it, or I’ll get good enough that I can choose my own students. In the end, why are you here if you only care about how good it looks on your resume but not how much knowledge you can gain from it? Why are you here??
Maybe I’ll go into industry and meet some new people who are another type of annoying...
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002 for Gojohime ;)
002 | Send me a ship and I will tell you:
Firstly, I just want to sincerely apologize for the delayed response! I honestly had terminal gojohime brainrot at the time of receipt and trying to answer this then would have made my goddamn head explode lolol
But thanks for sending in, best thing about these asks is they really help you evaluate why you feel the way you do about a character/ship so thanks for sending <3<3
When I started shipping them:
Right around when JJK season 1 anime started, although I actually wasn't watching the series but rather serendipitously stumbled across a complication of Gojo and Utahime interaction clips on youtube...the rest is history
My thoughts:
For Gojo, despite the teasing about her being weak its really his way of flirting because his other methods dont work (as far as getting that kind of direct attention from her). It's implicitly implied he trusts and cares for Utahime- going directly to her about the mole investigation and his train of thought immediately assessing her situation after he used purple hollow, among other things.
As for Utahime, i love how informal/combative she is with him despite him being the world's most powerful (and possibly unhinged) sorcerer- that doesnt seems to factor at all in their interactions and suggests to me a comfortable familiarity in their relationship.
Overall im just a huge whore for these two idiots- their chaotic dynamic reminds me very much of my relationship with my own himbo XD
What makes me happy about them:
I like to think Gojo's been madly in love with her for so long and his plan all along is to annoy her to the point where she becomes madly and homicidally in love with him which is a dynamic i LIVE for XD
What makes me sad about them:
Having been scarred by many a male shounen mangaka, i highly doubt they'll be made officially canon but a slut can dream eh?
Things done in fanfic that annoys me:
I havent read anything in nearly a year (currently suffering from readers block as i try to write my own fic) but does seem like a prevalent fanon is that Gojo is...uh, how to put this delicately.....rapey? (As far as smut fics go anyway, i dont read anything else lol). Not judging if thats what youre into, but anyone who knows me knows i have a mutual respect kink so its hard for me to invest in those kind of fics. Im a whore for my stupid soft simpy himbos :D
Also with Utahime 30+, i like to think that a) shes old enough to be comfortable with who she is as a person and wouldnt be insecure around an idiot like Gojo b) not a virgin/wasn't waiting just around for him. Mainly because im not into the "purity" culture or the whole notion of remaining a virgin makes a character objectively "pure" or "good"- it reeks of misogyny/patriarchal social conventions and i just cant vibe with it
Things I look for in fanfic:
hardcore smut duh (with explicit consent of course!)
My wishlist:
I'm not sure what this is referencing, but at the very least more canon interactions!!!
Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other:
this question does not compute
My happily ever after for them:
My pragmatic side says just for them to be alive by the end given how the manga is progressing, but again being familiar with shounen mangaka habits its highly unlikely Gojo/their most popular character will be killed off unless Gege really goes full mad lad on us. And i dont see Utahime dying based on how shes handled in the manga so far but this could be a little white lie i tell myself??
As for my delulu brainrotty side: For them to be married with dozens of dozens of little gojos and utahimes XD
Anyway thanks again for the ask! Happy to answer more (and will try to be more timely in responses this time sorrrrry)
#thanks for the ask anon!#gojohime#gojo satoru#iori utahime#gouta#gojo x utahime#jjk#jujustu kaisen#ask game
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Hello! Can I ask headcanons about being Inarizaki manager?
A/N: Hi there and of course you can! You’re my first Haikyuu anon so I hope this lived up to your expectations! I also gave your request a little backstory so you’ll hopefully enjoy this! (´･ᴗ･ ` )
Tags: Inarizaki x reader ✅ SFW ✅ friendship ✅ fluff ✅
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bearing the title of Inarizaki’s manager was no easy task, in fact, it was pretty tiring and demanded a lot from the person who owned it
or at least that’s what a lot of the failed applicants claimed
it was no secret that the volleyball team organized a test period that lasted a week for each participant and rumor has it that no one has ever made it past day three
there were a lot of people from your class mostly girls that had tried their luck and were overly-confident that they’d be chosen, but right after being failed they never mentioned the volleyball club again
you on the other hand were genuinely interested in the manager position and after contemplating whether or not to apply, with the amount of support you got from your family, friends and teachers you finally found the courage to write your name on the waiting list
unfortunately for your nerves the applicants before you failed way too quickly and before you knew it, your turn had come
a young friendly-looking man with dark and spikey hair came to your classroom on a Monday morning to tell you all the details concerning the club activity later this afternoon
you listened to him attentively, trying to memorize every single detail he told you, but he must’ve noticed how nervous you were because he suddenly stopped mid-sentence
“I’m sorry, you must surely think I’m super rude for not introducing myself first before I bombarded you with all those information. My name’s Akagi and I’m Inarizaki’s libero, it’s a pleasure to meet you!”
now that you were more relaxed the two of you wrapped your chat up and bid each other goodbye before you returned to your classroom and waited for your first class to start
.
all those rumors about the team giving off an entirely different aura than anyone else in school was truly no exaggeration
the moment you entered the gym the prevalent tension alone was enough to make you rethink your plans, but before you could do anything a gentle voice spoke out to you
“Are you this week’s manager candidate?”
when you turned around to see who had asked you that question, you saw a tall young man with a darker skin tone smile down at you
you affirmed his question, introducing yourself with the same nervous tone from before, and fortunately, he as well showed you an equal amount of sympathy as Akagi
“I know that it must be quite overwhelming, but you really shouldn’t worry too much about it. You know I’m actually not supposed to give you any tips, but...out of everyone who walked in here you look the most promising so...just be yourself!”
and with that, the two of you walked towards the rest of his teammates so that you could finally introduce yourself to them
truth be told you expected some kind of long interrogation process and nosy questions, but they paid you good to no attention and just introduced themselves briefly
when they went back to practice their moves the captain stayed behind and asked you some general questions such as how much experience you have with volleyball and if you’re busy during the weekends
after everyone went to go and change, you stayed behind to help some of the substitute players out with cleaning the gym floors and dirty balls when Kita joined you with the cleanup
he must’ve noticed your surprised face since after just a short while he spoke up
“Please pay me no mind, I do these things quite often, so this won’t be the last time my actions will surprise you.”
“Do you do these things out of...obligation?”
the other club members were quite surprised by your sudden question, but it made the light-grey haired young man crack a smile as he told you that he was simply used to doing things the right and proper way
his remark seemed of low importance at that time, but his reasoning still stuck with you, and unbeknownst to you it helped you out quite a bit
.
the second day passed similar to the first one, but with the only exception that you were allowed to help out with the warming-up exercises
while everyone stretched you were finally able to get a better look at the members and you even took some notes on which exercise they did, which position they played in most frequently, and how they behaved towards their teammates
you used the moment they benched you to go over everything you learned today and needless to say there were a few very noticeable personalities that might need more time to befriend than Aran or Akagi
the first two that stood out were the Miya twins
everyone in school knew them for their constant fights amongst each other, but seeing them play and fight up close was an entirely different experience
they randomly screamed at each other when some tactic didn’t work out how they’d imagined it, but all things considered, they made a great and powerful duo
it also didn’t take you long to tell them apart look wise as well as characterwise which facilitated your notes about them
Suna was the third person you’d have to look out for and pay very close attention to
judging from his playstyle he was quite the troublesome opponent
according to some of the players who sat close to you, he was able to manipulate the blockers to jump right where he wanted them to and some of that manipulation skills even stayed with him beyond the game and made out a big part of his personality
but on a more positive note, he also had a more fun side to him
he noticed surprisingly quick if someone wasn’t in a good mood and depending on how long he’d known them he was also able to cheer them up, but this special service heavily relied on his current mood
as for the rest of the members, they seemed friendly enough and as time passed you were confident that they’d accept you in their circle of friends
.
..
the rest of the week passed by in a flash and before you knew it the last day of your “manager exam” had arrived
you were nervous as well as quite afraid that you might not have provided them with the service they needed or wished for, but the confident grins on Aran’s and Akagi’s faces managed to reassure your beating heart
everyone waited for Kita to arrive and with each passing minute you felt like you would pass out
and after what felt like an eternity he finally entered the gym with a black duffle bag and headed straight toward you
he handed you the bag without saying anything, it was after you had taken the small bundle into your hands that he spoke up, a small smile spreading across his facial features
“We’ve tested you throughout this entire week and I’m pretty sure not every single task we entrusted you with was pleasant, but you still held out and did everything the right and proper way...thank you and with this, I’d like to welcome you as Inarizaki’s first and official manager.“
it took you a short while to comprehend just what had happened and while you were still looking at the captain like a lost lamb the rest of the members surrounded and congratulated you
the person who brought you back from your daydream was Atsumu, who tightly wrapped his arms around you in a congratulatory hug
you were quite surprised since up until now he was rather well-behaved and didn’t concern himself so much with you except the usual ‘thank yous’, ‘hellos’ and ‘good evenings’ a club member would give his piers
your bewilderment must’ve been quite evident since someone pulled the blond giant away from you with a sigh
and that someone was no other than his twin brother Osamu who whispered a small apology to you and began to lecture him
“What’s it to ya ‘Samu? Ain’t it ‘bout time we dropped that whole act?”
before they could confuse you more than you already were, Ren placed his big hand on your shoulder giving you a somewhat awkward smile that was meant to console you
Hitoshi joined you two and explained how the team always had to show each candidate the cold shoulder in order to make sure that all applicants were aware of the fact that being the VBC’s manager didn’t mean partying around and chatting up a storm with the members
I see was all you could answer to that rather absurd rule they had come up with
.
..
your first day as the official manager didn’t vary that much from what you had seen during your test week, but at least now you were properly talking with all of the members
needless to say, you also became this day’s conversation topic number one
wherever you walked people would whisper amongst each other how you were the chosen one despite so many applicants
some of your classmates though had the audacity to doubt that you had won the guys over in a legitimate way and made no effort to hide their baseless accusations by speaking unnaturally loud when they were near you
it did bother you a little, but you decided to ignore their envious attempts to get you mad, sad, or whatever their goal was and dedicate yourself to getting to know your club members better...
.
the first few weeks you spent on getting to know the members’ skills as well as their personalities better than what you had seen already in the past week
and before you knew it, you had become not only an essential and precious part of the team but also an irreplaceable friend and companion to each of them
you made sure to help the two captains out as much as you could, but you didn’t only do it out of obligation but because you felt bad for leaving these two - especially Kita - alone with all important tasks
oddly enough a powerful team like theirs didn’t have an advisor so most organizational tasks fell on their shoulders
Kita as dutiful and thorough as he was always tackled the tasks the moment they were given to him so neither Aran nor you ever had the chance to volunteer as helpers
one day though you accepted the assignments before him and distributed them amongst the three of you as equally as you could, whereas you took on a slightly bigger portion since you were their manager
you also made sure that Kita didn’t stay behind until all the streetlights turned on and so it became a tradition for you to join him and Aran on their way back home
during those walks, you got extremely close with them and since they often discussed training and club-related matters, you were also able to learn additional things as well as plan the players’ training regimen for the following days
when you weren’t by their side, you either warmed the bench alongside the other substitute players or tried to help Hitoshi tame the two brothers
you were aware of their regular disputes and had already witnessed one yourself, but back then the team had helped resolve it so you weren’t needed
and now that they had finally found a manager, they reverted back to their habitual behavior: ignore and enjoy their dispute, film it or just look for Kita to resolve the issue
you on the other hand took it upon yourself to play the mediator and started by stopping Suna from recording or taking a photo of them
needless to say, he wasn’t very happy when you confiscated his phone, but after you explained to him that you were simply worried that as heated as the siblings were they’d one day drag him into their fight, he proposed you a deal
“Let me take at least five photos and two videos before I help with calming them down.“
your eyes narrowed as you took on a very confident pose which made it pretty obvious that you weren’t going to back down from his attempt to bargain with you
“Two photos and one video.“
“Make it three.”
���Denied. You either settle for two photos and one video or nothing at all...take it or leave it Suna.”
as much as he wanted to protest, your smug grin made him yield in the end
next up were the taller and more intimidating-looking players who’d usually stand by and laugh or sigh
“Are you really ok with the whole school making fun of our club and treating it like some kind of fighting club just because of these two dunces?”
they were quite surprised at your sudden question but weren’t as taken aback as you when they immediately headed for the gym doors to shoo away all onlookers
as for the troublesome siblings you usually stood between them the moment you sensed that they were about to fight
they’d still try to somehow either pinch the other or slap his backside and you at first tolerated it, but after a while, it just got too distracting and annoying so you straight out took hold of each of their hands and wordlessly glared at them
that method started a new trend and now their teammates constantly teased them for being your children and how funny it was to look at their embarrassed faces while you on the other hand showed no reaction whatsoever
you didn’t expect that sort of outcome, but as long as it stopped their fighting it was worth it
.
as their manager, you were also put in charge of organizing training matches as well as signing them up for tournaments and nationals (with the help of the coaches and captains of course)
your first training match was quite exciting and you were surprised at the number of people that came to see it
the guys were almost always in their top form when they played so you rarely had to worry about their health condition and that took quite the weight from your shoulders
even if someone showed the slightest symptoms of a cold or anything of that sorts, Kita and you would instantly be there and get the player to go home and rest
you knew that some of them hated being sick since it meant that they’d miss out on practice and saw it as some kind of betrayal towards the team
Atsumu was one of these types of people and he was the heaviest case out of all of them
so you made sure to drop by the twins’ house after club activities ended and cheer him up, by changing the cloth on his forehead, cutting some apples for him, or just being there to keep him company
after that Osamu would always insist on bringing you home since the sun had already set
the two of you would always talk about the most random things, but sometimes your conversations got quite serious and personal
in fact, you were the first person he shared his future plans with, saying that he could trust you with keeping it a secret
as for the nationals...
your first one was very overwhelming
the gym was so enormous that it outshined any other gym you had visited with them
it was no secret that the entire ambiance intimidated you and the moment you saw their personal cheering squad you couldn’t help but freeze-up
you had heard that their cheering squad was like no other and that it even rivaled that of many other powerhouse schools, but much like other rumors you had dismissed it
...until now
“Impressive isn’t it?” Ren asked to which you just nodded
but you noticed quickly just how much of an effect their audience had during the match
their steady and powerful rhythms managed to not only motive your team but also discompose your opponents
what surprised you the most was how the older gentlemen in the crowd didn’t hold back on their snide remarks when someone made a mistake or didn’t play seriously
after each match, all of you had come up with small rituals you’d do
depending on the outcome of the game you’d either throw a small party to commemorate their victory or try to cheer them up with a motivational speech followed by a movie night
all in all, you truly came to love volleyball, as well as your team and each of its members, and they did too
they were truly happy to have won such a dependable and caring manager like yourself
the entire team always made sure to celebrate your birthday and go all out on your presents as well as on the party they’d organize for you
all of them always made sure to return your kindness with double the effort and love you had given them
you were sick?
no problem, every day two members would visit you and take turns in taking care of your needs until you were healthy
you were sad?
they’d buy you your favorite snacks, cook you your favorite meal, rent your favorite movie and then knock on your front door, demanding to be let in
...and so on
they had become something like your second family and you didn’t even dare imagine a scenario where you didn’t apply for the position of the manager
the same goes for them, they had given up the hope to find someone who manages their team, but the moment you had entered the gym they almost instantly knew that you’d be the one to take them to victory
and they were right...
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Innermost Thoughts
A KiraShino fic for all your angsty needs
Plot: Yoshikage Kira has fallen in love, but how will he deal with it?
TW; angst
Word count; 3.6k
Fic under the cut
Yoshikage Kira still didn’t understand how he got into this situation; it had been round two months since he escaped the grasps of Josuke Higashikita and changed his face to Kosaku Kawajiri. Unbeknownst to him, more time than he would have liked as Kosaku had passed.
As usual, he lived life with a day-by-day routine which he stuck to by the minute, but one thing Yoshikage Kira would have expected was for his new personal life to infiltrate his business plans.
Before taking on this guise, Kira had no clue what he was getting himself into regarding having a new personal life to fit himself into, living life as a stranger to himself. He was hoping he picked a sad misanthrope much attune to his own desires, to which Kira could continue with his daily life with nothing major interrupting his plans, but alas, the ambush he had received gave Kira a limited time to switch faces. Rather, he got himself into a situation where he was a businessman with a wife and child. This situation was clear to anyone who could psychoanalyze Kira’s behaviour when he was around this family. It was uncomfortable, but Kira quickly learnt how to adapt to having a supportive family life. His ‘son’ Hayato, only aged eleven seemed to remind Kira of himself in some ways, he was intelligent, with a hopeless case of snooping into business that wasn’t his. He seemed to catch onto things quickly, and regarding Kira’s mission, it was not ideal. Despite this, Kira found himself to respect the child, slowly growing a fondness towards him, even to the point of helping him with his schoolwork at the kitchen table in the mornings.
However, Kira was currently pacing back and forth in the attic where resided Stray Cat napping, meowing softly in its sleep. Grasping at his hair, pulling it slightly; Kira groaned. Guilt was pouring into his soul, and it was reflected into Killer’s Queen’s performance, he wasn’t as agile and quick as usual, and all for one small reason. Yoshikage Kira had fallen in love.
Kosaku was married to this gorgeous woman, Shinobu. At first, Kira could hardly tolerate the woman, she was overly clingy and hopelessly in love with this Kosaku, but over these past two months of living this new life, Kira found himself becoming less repulsed by Shinobu’s touches and acts of generosity. It all started when she started to make coffee Kira’s ideal way rather than Kosaku’s without questioning it. The mere thought of that made Kira’s heart flutter. Further on into the relationship, Kira kissed Shinobu on the cheek; seeing her shocked and flustered face made Kira’s stomach pool in anger in the moment. He knew nothing about the past life Kosaku lived with Shinobu and Hayato, but with hints through their behaviour he caught on with the fact that their relationship wasn’t all that healthy due to Shinobu’s compliance, and Hayato’s reluctance to have long conversations with him.
Kira stopped his pacing momentarily, the mere thought of Kosaku’s previous life whether healthy or not made Kira flood with jealousy. How dare that scum have ever laid his hands on his Shinobu. Wait. HIS Shinobu. “Oh dear,” he starts, resting his hand against his cheek. “Why do I feel this way about a meaningless woman. I need to focus on the task at hand, and that is killing Josuke Higashikita, I can’t-“ he stuttered, “I can’t fall in love. It’s not in my nature whatsoever, but when she touches me, or kisses my cheek.” Kira shook his head, trying to stop his thoughts, a faint blush cropping up on his face.
In Kira’s mind, he wasn’t worthy of love, nothing he had done in life could even start to warrant any emotion as strong as love, even from a young child he knew his parents didn’t ‘love’ him. They only had him for the sake of having a child and being parents, this only becoming more prevalent in these recent months with his father helping with Kira’s goal of creating more enemy stand users to defeat and kill more people for him, making it easier for Kira to live a quiet life with no repercussions.
But now, he had a woman who was there for him no matter the situation, loving him unconditionally. Kira almost couldn’t take it, this much exposure to genuine love had him flustered to even the thought of Shinobu giving him a kiss on the cheek every morning.
Taking a deep breath, Kira tried to recollect his thoughts. He cracked open the window shades slightly, letting a ray of sunlight hit Stray Cat, causing it to wake up with a loud hiss. Kira’s eyes widened partially, letting out a ‘hush’ to the same volume as Stray Cat. “Listen up, I need you to distract that boy Hayato, I know he’s aware of your existence and I have plans that I need to get to. Understand?” He asked the cat-plant hybrid, to which he got a response with a soft mewl alongside a nod. “Good. I’ll be sure to leave the shader open slightly so you don’t lose track of your task.” He stated, tightening his tie. He walked over to the exit of the attic and promptly left thoughts of Shinobu ubiquitous in his mind.
As he exited the attic, he saw Hayato hiding around the corner from the corner of his eye, “I can see you Hayato, not as sneaky as you thought you were.” Kira said, a joking tone shining through his words. Hayato then revealed himself from the corner and solemnly held up a sheet of paper, looking down in embarrassment, “Mom’s taking a nap so she can’t sign it; so, can you? It’s for a school trip I have next week.” He said, still refusing to make eye contact. “Of course, I’ll sign it, what kind of father would I be if I didn’t?” He asked rhetorically, he continued; “Just leave it on the kitchen table, I’ll be down in a moment, I just have something to do really quick.” Hayato nodded and scurried off downstairs to the kitchen, then more than likely left to his room.
After hearing the door to Hayato’s room click, Kira took swift steps towards his and Shinobu’s shared room and softly opened the door and entered, being sure to not disturb her nap. Standing by the door, he took in the sight of his ‘wife’, she was sprawled on top of the sheets, napping. Poor woman must have been so exhausted that she passed out right as she touched the bed, even to the point where she still had her slippers on.
Kira stepped towards her, the smell of her perfume wafting through the room. It was a soft floral scent, hyacinths with a mix of honey and limoncello sorbet concomitant to the white flower. Gently, Kira took off Shinobu’s slippers, placing them down besides the bed. He sat on the bed, the mattress dipping beneath his weight, causing Shinobu to stir slightly. He brushed his fingers across her face, brushing her hair out of her face. “You’re so gorgeous.” Kira softly muttered to himself. He was stunned that he even got himself to feel any emotion towards someone which wasn’t just pure lust for their hands, but love. A raw, intimate and genuine emotion Kira had never felt before, it was shocking that he’d even admit it to himself, let alone express it in the form of words of affirmation.
Noticing a blanket placed lonely on the dresser, Kira got up to grab it, unfolding it to place it over Shinobu’s unconscious body. Instantly, she snuggled up in the blanket, a tired smile flashing upon her face, round cheeks rosy. Walking back to her, Kira leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss to Shinobu’s forehead before exiting the room, not before having a longing stare at her form first.
When he did leave the room, he remembered that he had still yet to sign Hayato’s slip, heading to the kitchen, he took a pen out from his blazer pocket and quickly signed it as Kosaku. More often than not Kira would forget that he was living life as Kosaku and not himself, the emotions he felt for the other two members of the household were too strong for Kira to ignore. He genuinely saw himself as a part of the family, as Hayato’s biological father and Shinobu’s husband. Alas, neither of which were true, he knew Shinobu would never love Kira for who he was; he was a serial killer after all. He knew that Shinobu fell in love with Kosaku Kawajiri, not Yoshikage Kira, and what Kira saw in his fantasies and dreams was a life with just that. Him, Shinobu and Hayato as a happy family. Though Shinobu expressed her love quite often to him, she would never know that it was being directed to a stranger and not the man she married. Yoshikage Kira would never feel love aimed towards him directly, he only acted as a barrier to Kosaku Kawajiri. She will never love him.
Realising he was still gripping the pen, Kira cleared his throat abruptly, slipping the pen back into his pocket. Slapping his face quickly with both hands, he brought himself back to reality. Externally, it would look as though those thoughts didn’t affect him, but internally, it felt like an eternal heartache, knowing that he would never be significant enough in someone’s life for them to say those three meaningful words ‘I love you’. However, rather than dwelling on it, Kira decided to make something impactful out of it. Heading towards the front door, grabbing the car keys off a little hook hanging by the door and left.
The plan was to book a reservation at the fanciest restaurant in Morioh and treat Shinobu how Kosaku never did like royalty, it’s the least she deserves for essentially acting as a single mother to Hayato. Stopping by at the restaurant, he booked the reservation for 8pm. Looking down at his watch, he saw that it gave him five more hours to prepare the rest of the night. Next, he drove towards the centre of Morioh, where all the high-class stores were situated. Afterall, he was still Yoshikage Kira, he was able to effortlessly spend copious amounts of money at once and his bank account would hardly break a dent. Kosaku would’ve only wished to buy something as expensive as Kira’s signature suit which he no longer bared. Parking his car, he stepped out and locked the doors quickly before walking towards one of the stores, instantly being blasted by the overwhelming scent of lavender and sandalwood. Shooting a look of disgust to no one in particular, Kira remained stoic and walked over to the women’s section of the store, shooing off any retailer who came up to him. Kira knew what he wanted, and he wasn’t going to let anyone sway him otherwise.
There it was, the perfect dress, it was a long-sleeved, burgundy velvet dress that stopped just above the knee, it lay baggy on the slender mannequin, meaning it was a perfect fit for his wife. He could already envision it. The night was going to be perfect. He took the dress off the rack and laid it over his arm, “Can’t forget about some shoes,” he spoke to himself, walking over to where various pairs of shoes of different colours and heel heights sat. Kira could pride himself on one thing, and that was that he knew the exact styles of shoes Shinobu felt comfortable wearing and what she didn’t. She was a woman in her thirties, married with a child, high heels had no business being in her closet, rather, she was more suited to a kitten heel and pumps as they were less strenuous on her ankles. Perusing all the shoes, Kira came across a black kitten pump, so simple, yet so classy. He found the shoes in her size and took the box as well as the dress to the front desk. “That’ll be 46,294.19 Yen, sir.” The cashier said in a monotone voice. Taking his wallet out, he handed over five 10,000 Yen notes to the cashier, promptly receiving the change. “Have a lovely rest of the day.” Kira called out to the cashier as he left, bag in hand.
He placed the bag in the passenger seat of the car before checking his watch. It had already turned 4:30pm. “Hmm, that took longer than expected, by now Shinobu must already be awake, I can’t surprise her with this now.” A frown formed on Kira’s face before entering the driver’s seat. “Oh well, I’ll just find a way to sneak this into our room.” The car drive home was silent, but Yoshikage didn’t mind it, he tended to live his life in silence prior to changing his life, he almost missed it, but the sound of Shinobu’s voice sparked joy in his heart, Kira couldn’t help but smile at the thought of the melodic tone of his wife’s voice.
Before he even knew it, the drive home was complete, before he exited the car, he looked down at his watch once more; 4:50pm. Three hours left until the date.
He exited the car, bag in hand walking towards the front door, not before locking the car door. He unlocked the door and entered; the house was silent apart from the faint sound of the television playing a news channel in the living room. “Shinobu?” He called out, after ten seconds of no response he kicked off his shoes and walked towards the kitchen where he called out once again; “Shinobu, darling?” To which he still got no response. “She must not be awake still, surprising.” He muttered, placing the bag on the kitchen table and turning to one of the draw and pulled out a notepad and ripped out a page and took out the pen from his blazer pocket once more and started to write:
‘Shinobu, my darling wife,
On the dresser is a bag, be ready by 7:10pm, I’m taking you out on the best date you’ve ever been on.
- Love, Kosaku ♡
Taking the note as well as the bag, he walked upstairs to the bedroom where Shinobu was still sleeping and placed the bag and note on the dresser and promptly left to go do some office work.
Approximately an hour and a half passed before Kira’s trance-like state was broken by hearing a shriek come from Shinobu, a soft smile appeared on Kira’s face. “Well at least she’s awake,” he looked up to the clock 6:20pm “perfect.” He allowed ten minutes to pass for Shinobu to put on the dress before leaving his office and heading to the bedroom. He knocked twice before entering the room.
He was starstruck, stunned in place by the sight of Shinobu in the dress. Shinobu’s curves were accentuated through the dress, even the bulge of her post-partum stomach which had remained over the past 11 years stuck out in the dress. It made Kira more attracted to her than he typically was. Her plump thighs making the dress skin-tight made a soft blush form over Kira’s cheeks. “You,” he stumbled over his words; “you look stunning.”
Shinobu turned to face Kira, a bright smile plastered on her face. “You did this? All for me?” She questioned, just as starstruck as her husband. Kira could only muster a nod in response. He stepped towards Shinobu, cupping her face in his hands, causing a large blush to spread across her whole face. Kira leaned in and pressed a quick, but passionate kiss to Shinobu. The first of which Kira had ever shared in his life, and clearly through Shinobu freezing up in response, it was more than likely the first time she was kissed like that since hers and Kosaku’s wedding.
Pulling away, the two were flustered, they shared a momentary silence before Kira broke the silence by clearing his throat and looking away. “You should probably continue to get ready, you do look beautiful darling, gorgeous even.” He stated, a soft smile present, He placed a kiss to Shinobu’s cheek before exiting the room and heading into his office where he held a spare suit just in case. It was a matching burgundy suit with a black shirt with a tie being reminiscent of Shinobu’s favourite dress, black with white polka dots.
It took almost no time before it was 7:10, and the two of them was in the car, Shinobu did a natural makeup look, deciding to embrace the features she already had, her hair was in a low messy bun. She had never been faced with the need to get all dressed up for a date to the point where she stressed herself out so much that she ended up doing the bare minimum.
The car drive held some small talk about how their days had been thus far, all whilst Kira was holding Shinobu’s thigh, stroking it softly with his thumb.
As they got to the restaurant they were quickly seated in the back of the restaurant on the balcony, only for the upmost private of dates. Like a gentleman, Kira pulled the chair out for Shinobu before seating himself. The sound of a piano, violins and a harp played together synchronically creating a beautiful tune which Kira caught himself humming along to every so often. Shinobu found herself opening the conversation whilst picking up a menu; “Did you really mean it when you said I was gorgeous earlier? It’s just that you haven’t said that since our wedding, Kosaku. And all of a sudden, you’ve reverted back into your old self, pre-Hayato, pre-marriage, what’s up with it?” Shinobu questioned.
Kira feigned a look of shock, he knew Shinobu could quickly pick up context clues, that’s where Hayato got it from, of course, but Shinobu could pick up on it this easily? Despite the fake look of shock on his face, Kira himself even felt stunned slightly. He thought for a moment before responding, “Of course I meant it, love. Why would I fake that, I’m not a liar you know this?” To Kira, that statement was obviously applicable, but regarding Kosaku, he had no idea whether or not he was truthful. He continued; “Plus, I just felt like rekindling the old spark we had, it���s been lost in a mist for so long, and even to this day, I’m still surprised why you’re still with a man like me. You could do so much better-“ He was abruptly cut of by his wife’s voice, anger lacing her words, “Don’t even say that, you know in hopelessly in love with you Kosaku” she went silent for a moment, “even with how you’ve treated me this past decade, I’m not quite certain what I’d be like without you in my life. You mean the world to me.” Tears were brimming at Shinobu’s eyes.
Kira froze, for the first time in his life, he didn’t know how to react to a situation, it was this one woman who finally had the Yoshikage Kira stumped and not the masterful plan from an enemy of his.
How could a woman as perfect as Shinobu fall in love with scum like Kosaku to the point of not being able to leave him out of pure desperation of not knowing where her life would go. Finally, with what felt like eons, Kira finally plucked up the courage to respond to Shinobu’s outburst; “You really are the perfect woman Shinobu, my wife, I know it must have felt like forever ago when I last said this to you, but I love you Shinobu Kawajiri, and I’m proud to call you, my wife. I’ve always loved your feistiness, and how nurturing you are towards Hayato even when you are at the worst point in your life. You are indefinitely the most perfect person I’ve set my eyes on. From your stretchmarks to your eyes, to how much you cling to me, Hell, even to how your nose crinkles when you laugh, it’s all perfect.” Kira ranted, every word he said coming from the bottom of his heart, words laced with love and passion.
As he ranted, Shinobu sat there, stunned. Deep down, she knew this wasn’t the Kosaku she married, but hearing those words that spilled out of Kosaku’s mouth, it made her fall in love all over again. For years on end, Shinobu was longing, waiting to just hear those three meaningful words of ‘I love you’ and at last, after eleven, painful years, she finally got to hear them once again. Tears spilled from her eyes, rushing down her cheeks uncontrollably. As soon as Kosaku had finished his rant all Shinobu could muster to say was; “I love you too, unconditionally Kosaku. My heart has been aching for you to say that. Thank you.” She smiled, tears still streaming.
Kira took one of the napkins and as gently as he could, tried to wipe away her tears to no avail, she was so happy that she couldn’t stop crying. The sight of her made Kira smile, she was finally happy after 11 years, but with him, Yoshikage Kira and not Kosaku Kawajiri, if only she knew that, though. Thinking about that made Kira’s heart shatter, but for now. He’ll keep up the fantasy of Kosaku to keep her happy.
Maybe one day, he’ll tell her. Just maybe. Whatever makes Shinobu happy, Kira will abide by, for Yoshikage Kira had fallen in love.
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I am going to gently peel away Edolon’s layers like an especially fucked up onion in this post because I haven’t really seen anyone analyse him so far.
[Warning: talks of cults, religion, and death + spoilers.]
Now, the intent of this is not to invalidate anyone’s point of view, nor is it to upset anyone or make them feel bad. The intent of this analysis is actually to bring attention to his trauma and issues, as I personally have not seen anyone partake in said activity so far (keep in mind I’m making this post on the 4th of March, 2021), and I wholeheartedly enjoy shining light on subjects that usually don’t get talked about all that often. The intention of this post is to simply encourage a more sympathetic behaviour towards the purpleblood in question.
I will say it outright before I go into detail — I wholeheartedly believe that Edolon is a victim. I do not think of him as a villain, at-least not by the definition that we are the most familiar with. This does not mean that I’m justifying his actions by any means, it just means that I’m giving a reasoning for them. Being a victim that is deserving of help, therapy, and love, and having done a few morally questionable things yourself, are not necessarily exclusive sets of traits, and I genuinely wish that this mindset was more common.
Now, to get on with the actual analysis:
As I said earlier — Edolon Vryche is a victim. Of what, you ask? A-lot of things. Child neglect, isolation, falling into the hands of a cult and then being used as a ‘secret weapon’’, constant underestimation and possible degradation, constantly being plagued by feelings of helplessness, manipulation, being forced to murder his lover, and then eventually losing one of his hands. I feel like all of this often goes unseen by the fandom but he has led a very tragic and unfortunate life and it is no wonder that he is so desperate for control and power now.
We are well-aware of the fact that Clarud Enthal, better known as The Executive, severely wronged Edolon in some manner. Of-course, you could presume whatever Edolon said in regards to him to be nothing more than lies to gain the sympathy of others but I would have to disagree. He clearly did not care about how the audience perceived him; he couldn’t give less of a damn about them. Not only that, but through Clarud’s previous interactions with Sestro, I think we can all safely agree that he wasn’t the most reliable man in the universe. If we can sympathise with Sestro’s situation in regards to The Executive, what’s stopping us from giving Edolon the same treatment? Especially once you realise that he was actually treated much worse, too. Clarud literally isolated Edolon — he neglected Edolon and was not the figure that he should have been in his life. Edolon truly was denied what was rightfully his, not only in terms of inheritance but also in terms of love and support.
While we’re on the subject of love and support, let’s discuss Edolon’s former lover — Seinru Narako, the Witch of Light. It’s safe to say that Edolon didn’t get to associate with other people on a deep and vulnerable level, so Seinru was really his only source of comfort and affection. Isn’t it slightly unnerving for a character that has been stated to be ‘subtly manipulative’ in their Wikipedia page to be the only form of solace for another? It has been stated that he was rather dependent on them too — it’s understandable, considering they were possibly the only one to ever show him any sort of affection or love, but concerning nonetheless. We only got to see Seinru twice; first in the “[S] WHAT DID YOU DO TO THEM.” video, and then on the 1102nd page, as well as three that following ones — who knows for how long they had been manipulating him. They kept on talking about how fruitful the entire process would be for him, but let’s face the facts; it wasn’t for his sake, it was for the sake of the cult.
It makes even more sense once you realise the manipulative nature of cults; they isolate you from everyone else and slowly corrupt your sense of self. Cults often get idolised or joked about for the sake of certain aesthetics but the trauma they cause is nothing to be taken lightly. Religious trauma in general, whether rooting from a cult or just faith in general (though especially cults), is nothing to be joked about — this is coming from someone with religious trauma themself. Being strongly associated with religion can make or break someone, depending on whether the bond is positive or negative. It can ruin your self-perception, your sense of identity, your priorities — everything.
Manipulation seems to be fairly prevalent in the cult that Edolon in a part of, too. Especially when you take a look at the 1535th page, in which Hogan is seen holding a paper depicting the full plan. Edolon is referred to as their ‘special weapon’. He isn’t a person to them; he never was. He has always just been a means to an end — a pawn to make their plans easier to come into fruition. No-one has ever treated him like a person, but especially not the cult. He thinks he acquired power after making that sacrifice but not really. It’s kind of sad, keeping in mind that he has probably always dealt with feelings of helplessness and powerlessness, as implied by a-lot of what Seinru said during the 1102nd, 1103rd, and 1104th pages of Vast Error. In-fact, I feel like we should give more importance to the discussion Edolon had with them; it brings attention to a-lot of things we might not have noticed otherwise. Such as Edolon’s fear of letting them down and disappointing them.
Narako said, and I quote, “All of this is for you. So please, don't reject this gift. Don't let me down, now of all times.” What stops us from speculating that Edolon doesn’t have a crushing fear of failure? Of letting everyone down? Of letting the cult down? Of letting his former lover down? Who is to say that this man is not plagued by the weight of the expectations placed upon him since childhood? So many expectations, and yet he was still underestimated. He was clearly still not seen as enough. I know everyone perceives Edolon to be this confident, intimidating figure but I suspect that couldn’t be further from the truth. I do believe that he is a competent and potent man, yes, but he is equally traumatised and scarred. He is insecure, he is frightened, but most of all — he is lonely. He always has been, and with the path he is leading, he always will be. Besides — wouldn’t it be ironic? For a character so desperate to preach a message of ‘happiness’, to never truly be happy? With how his life has played out, I doubt he has ever felt true joy at any point of his life; he is a man that was hatched into tragedy.
I should also mention that I ended up making one specific connection that makes things a bit more heartwrenching:
“Otherwise, everything we've accomplished together, all that we've worked so hard for up until this very moment… All that pain would be rendered meaningless.”
It’s quite similar to pretty much everything said in the tangent regarding pain that Edolon went on in the 710th page of the source material, but it especially applies to one specific line — “but here's the catch: when dealt in excess, the very idea of pain, no matter the cause… becomes simply— meaningless.” Is it not likely that a part of him still mourns her? I’d say it is very probable, especially when you keep the countenance he wore after being reminded of the whole event. He is clearly still hurting, and that is completely understandable; this man has been through so much — how can you not expect him to act the way he does? He is full of so much repressed emotion — so much anger and frustration, and no-one ever taught him how to properly express his feelings. His actions may not be justified, but his rage is. He is as worthy of love and therapy as the rest of the characters.
#edolon vryche#edolon#vast error#manipulate mansplain maleboss (edolon)#cult tw#religion tw#long post tw#death tw
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Let These Words Set You Free
Chapter 6 of Saviin’ika
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3| Part 4 | Part 5
Pairing: Paz Vizsla x Nurse!Reader
Summary: After finding it impossible to break off your relationship with the Mandalorian, you let him claw his way deeper into your heart as you two spend the night together after he tends to your wounds. Deep conversations ensue and the Mandalorian gives you not one, but two gifts to cheer you up.
Rating: T
Word Count: 7,900
Warnings: There’s really not a whole lot of warnings for this chapter to be honest. Mostly non-descriptive mentions of abuse, tending to wounds, and Saviin’ika struggling with self-deprecating thoughts because of how horribly she’s been manipulated.
A/N: Thank you all so much for the kind words on the last chapter and I absolutely can’t believe that it has over 200 notes?? Like, you guys are all amazing and keep inspiring me to write more and I absolutely love reading all your replies/reblogs/messages/and even the tags!! <3
You’re certain that you must be the most selfish woman in all of Nevarro--in all of the entire galaxy.
Instead of listening to your father’s grave threat against your life, against your Mandalorian’s life, you find yourself letting your fearless warrior stay with you throughout the entire night so he can hold you close to him after a traumatizing week. At one point, he removes his cuirass and the padding that covers his stomach so you can rest your head more comfortably and your heart swells that he’s willing to shed something so precious, just for the sake of your neck not aching, come morning.
You’re half asleep and unaware of how much time has passed since dozing off when you feel him slowly shifting your sore body against him, turning you until your cheek is pressed against his softly defined belly and you bring a hand up to curl into the warm fabric covering his side. You find it slightly amusing that the last time he’d been lying on the medical cot with your hands on his ribs, you’d been absolutely terrified of him and now--
Well, now you’re letting him hold you in such an intimate, vulnerable way and you’ve never felt safer.
As he tenderly caresses your face and hair while you rest your eyes, his cloak wrapped tightly around your pliant form, you realize you’ve never trusted anyone the same way you trust this massive warrior of a man. You’re in an extremely vulnerable position, too lethargic and drained to fight back against anyone who would want to harm you in that moment, but he’s proved to you, time and time again that he couldn’t even bear the thought of causing you such pain.
You’d witnessed it in the way he continuously went out of his way to brighten up your day by showering you with sweet, simple gestures, or how he held no reservations in taking care of you and your injuries. He hadn’t believed you to be a foolish woman for wanting to fiercely protect the sweet crystalline fox that still comfortably sleeps on the flat pillow you had surrendered earlier, nor had he admonished you for being reckless enough to go anywhere near that dirty cantina where the Trandoshan had discovered you.
The faith and confidence he has in you to simply be nothing more than yourself is overwhelming and breathtaking in the most beautiful way, as you’ve never had anyone show you such interest in all the little quirks and personality traits that he believed made you unique, compared to anyone else he’s encountered before.
Your heart soars when you think of the pride that had been prevalent in his praises upon finding out that you had kicked your attacker hard enough to get yourself out of a bad situation. You want to learn how to become stronger, for both yourself and him, but the weight of your father’s threats press down harshly on your thin shoulders and you fear that it is such a weight that not even your heavy-infantry warrior would be able to relieve you of.
You ponder if he thinks you’re fully asleep as he gently removes the metal cuffs from the tail of your braids, skilled fingers working at the tangled locks that your father had angrily dragged you by just a day prior to your reunion with your Mandalorian. The stark contrast leaves your lungs bereft of all air as he takes his time to unwind your long braids, taking great care to not tug at them or cause you any discomfort while you get some much needed rest, and you marvel at how someone who possessed so much strength and such a terrifying reputation can touch you so sweetly, so tenderly.
“You are so pretty--so beautiful,” He murmurs with a soft, dreamy sigh as he tenderly rubs your sore scalp with the utmost precision, “I promise I’ll take you away from this awful place soon--just hang in there, ner cyare. ’M gonna take care of this whole situation you’re in.”
You think you must have simply dreamed the excruciatingly sweet sentiment because of the way he utters the promise with complete devotion, his thumb moving to tenderly stroke your bottom lip. It makes you feel like you’re trapped in a lovely fantasy, rather than the nightmares that typically prevent you from getting a good night of sleep.
You let out with a little hum when you feel him shift a little, fearing that he’s going to leave you, but his hand hastily moves to the spot between your shoulder blades and reassuringly rubs up and down the length of your spine.
“I’ve got you, cyar’ika,” He whispers so lowly that you only hear it from underneath his blue helm, “Always.”
Underneath the care and skill of his hands, you eventually fall into a peaceful sleep, letting the Mandalorian comfort you in the only way he knows how. Before you let exhaustion completely take over, you briefly wonder what cyar’ika means and if it will replace the other names he’s gifted you with.
Only hours pass when you feel fingers tenderly squeezing your nape and you slowly wake with a big yawn against his stomach, your fingers curling into the thick fabric covering his ribs as he coaxes you from your restful slumber. Despite being a little tired and there being a dull throbbing aches in the back of your skull from being concussed, you think it’s the most peaceful sleep you’ve ever had.
“I am sorry for waking you, mesh’la,” The Mandalorian’s voice pulls you completely out of your dreamy state and you groan a little as you rub the sleep from the corners of your eyes, “I was not sure when your father would be back and did not want to cause you anymore trouble with him.”
You ignore how nauseous you suddenly feel from both his words and the promise you had broken to your father, “Wh--What time is it?”
He hums a little, his hand easily sliding down your spine like it’s only natural for him, “About an hour before sunrise.”
“We do not have much longer then,” You reluctantly sit up, letting out another soft groan as you stretch out your arms high above your head, cringing when your hear several bones in your back and joints in your shoulders crack. You hear the Mandalorian sigh behind you as you roll your stiff neck and you both understand that you aren’t sore from the position you slept in, but more so the grueling shifts you’ve been working the past two weeks.
Your Mandalorian voices his concern as you begin to part your hair so you can braid it, “This job takes a toll on you, does it not, mesh’la?”
“Yes, but it is worth it to me,” You murmur, shivering a little when his cape falls from your shoulders, “I wish the people were kinder, but sometimes I get someone who is grateful. Yesterday one of my patients was a little girl who had scraped her knees pretty badly--she was the cutest thing, just a little Togruta, no older than six. She was so upset because apparently her older brother told her that I was going to amputate her legs. I had to reassure her for nearly half an hour I would not be cutting off her legs because of scraped knees.”
The Mandalorian laughs, tilting his helmet as he watches you gracefully style your hair and brush it away from your face, “You like children?”
Something about casually talking about children, all while sitting between his thighs on the cot you two had shared the previous night makes your cheeks viciously flush and you’re grateful your back is facing him. You’re not sure how to change the topic and choose your next words carefully.
“Yes, Mandalorian. I think they are... precious and I admire their curiosity and innocence. It is not often my patients are younglings though.”
“Someone like you must be good with little ones,” He voices his thoughts out loud and you think he sounds amused as he grazes his thumb along the outer shell of your warm ear.
For some reason, an intense pang throbs in your chest and you lower your head a little when unpleasant memories surface to the forefront of your mind, causing hot tears to brim your eyes and you quickly squeeze them shut.
“I could only wish to be better.”
His hand falters at the shakiness in your sad whisper of a voice and instead of teasing your ear, his hand moves to your nape and squeezes in an attempt to comfort you. He doesn’t ask what or who’s haunting you and you’re grateful, for you fear you do not have the strength to confide such horrific thoughts and memories to the massive Mandalorian without crumbling to pieces.
It’s silent for a few moments and you hate that you’ve completely ruined the comfortable atmosphere, so you miserably continue to braid your hair with now shaking fingers.
The Mandalorian, however, is determined not let you feel such dejection and speaks as softly as his helmet will allow him to.
"I wish I could watch you do this every morning."
“I am only braiding my hair, Mandalorian,” You smile weakly, forcing yourself to forget about the topic of children as you lift your elbows high above your head, deftly parting three separate locks of thick hair on the right half of your scalp, “It is nothing special.”
“Yet you make it look like art,” He hums, reaching out to softly stroke the half of your hair that you’re currently not braiding; for a moment, you think he’s going to attempt to style it for you, though he simply continues to trail his hand down your back, “I haven’t really touched someone else’s hair in a long time--I enjoy touching yours.”
“How long has it been?”
His hand freezes against the small of your back and before you can even begin to fear that you’ve asked a terrible question, he answers you in a much softer tone, “At least twenty years, mesh’la. My mother used to let me try to style her hair much like how you do yours, but I was never as good as she was and I would usually give up. She would always tell me that she felt bad for any future grandchildren I would give her because of how terrible I am when it comes to such things.”
The thought of this intimidating warrior being a child, attempting to braid his exasperated mother’s hair makes you smile fondly as you keep forcing yourself to not let your mind wander to a dark place that cause you unnecessary pain.
He sounds utterly nostalgic and you marvel at the images his words conjure in your imaginative mind, “Her hair was a lot more stubborn and curlier than yours, but she always made it seem so easy to braid it--you both make it seem so easy.”
“Then it would be good for you to learn as well, Mandalorian,” You quietly inform him, turning your head slightly to regard him with quirked eyebrows as he reaches out to stroke the thick plait with admiration before finishing it off for you with one of the metal cuffs he had dutifully held onto all night.
He sounds utterly amused when he speaks up again, mirth evident in his modulated voice as he continues to thumb the soft weaves and crevices of your graceful work, “Why would I need to learn such things when braiding someone else’s hair has never been a part of my studies in the tribe? What could hair styling possibly come in handy for if I am in the middle of a battle, little nurse?”
‘Braiding the hair of the future grandchildren your mother spoke of.’
You nearly say the words out loud, though you think them to be too personal and you do not wish to cause the Mandalorian any sadness upon bringing up old memories of a different time.
“I am sure the little ones in your tribe would not mind having their hair out of their faces,” You hum as you cross thick locks of hair underneath one another and gently tug to make sure they are tight enough where stubborn pieces won’t escape; you frown at the way his hand falters against your nape and you think you’ve made a mistake in your words, “Unless there are no little ones that don’t wear helmets? I j-just figured--I did not mean to disrespect your tribe or--”
“It’s okay, you are not being disrespectful,” He chuckles, shaking his head a little as he continues to watch your fingers work at your smooth locks, “I just… I was not expecting you to say that--you never ask about our helmets.”
“It is something sacred and none of my business,” You refuse to meet the emotionless gaze of his visor as you hastily bring your braid over your shoulder to continue the lower you get, cheeks burning as you lower your voice into a sheepish whisper; you feel shameful for bringing up something so personal, “I would never--I don’t ever want to--”
“Saviin’ika--you are far too sweet and precious for your own good,” His chuckles dissolve into laughter at how flushed and shy you’ve suddenly become at something that truly does not seem to be a big deal to him, his fingers squeezing your nape in a comforting way, “Yes, we do have young children in the tribe that have not yet sworn to the creed and we have some that put on the helmet as early as their sixth birthday. It is something that they choose whenever they are ready, not something that is forced upon them.”
You awkwardly shuffle your body around until you’re facing him, his thighs still splayed wide and feet dangling off either side of the cot as he lazily reaches forward to grab the loose tail of your braid. He seems utterly focused as he skillfully wraps the silver cuff around the bottom of your plait, fingers lightly stroking the ends of your hair that aren’t weaved together. You think there must be some sort of comfort and reassurance the warrior gains from helping you tame your own unruly locks and you smile warmly at him when he continues to stroke the soft tip of your braids with great reverence.
Curiosity gets the better of you and despite your better judgment, you find yourself speaking a question that’s plagued you since he first opened up about his tribe during one of your first meetings when he finally began to trust you more.
“Are there people who simply do not wear the helmet at all?”
He makes a small humming noise as you shyly lift your gaze to peer up at him through a thick abundance of eyelashes, “Sometimes uh, people who would not be considered to be foundlings are brought to the tribe, but it is rare that they are accepted by everyone. It is a long process that goes into permanently bringing in an outsider and very rarely are they accepted. It usually ends in an intense fight of some sort.”
“M-May I ask why?”
His helmet tilts to the side and his bare hand comes up to gently caress your healing cheek as he easily quells your curiosity in that comforting baritone that must intimidate so many others, “Because, saviin’ika, we need to make sure that whoever is deemed worthy of joining our tribe is able to provide for us in one way or another--no matter how little or big the job may be. We need to be sure that they will not turn their backs on us or do something that will draw attention to the tribe. It is a very delicate and difficult process, but it is for our own protection since our numbers are now so low.”
“I think it is honorable,” You murmur as you sheepishly tuck your hands between your thighs and gaze up at his emotionless visor, “That you value your people so dearly that there is a long process that goes into joining the tribe. It shows that you have respect and love for one another--it’s admirable.”
He hums, his thick fingers twitching against your healing cheek as he heaves a grave sigh and brings his other hand to tenderly cradle your head between his big hands. He cocks his scuffed up helmet to the side as he curiously strokes your skin and you certainly notice the strange shift in the atmosphere when his chest heaves a little and he simply holds your head up between warm palms.
You nervously fidget with the tail of your braid as he remains deathly still and silent, almost making you think he’s fallen asleep or passed out underneath that blue bucket.
He eventually shakes his helmet a little and clears his throat as he reluctantly releases the gentle hold he has on you, your skin now warmed and tinged pink, "I don't think I will ever truly be able to understand you, mesh'la."
You frown a little, confusion pinching your brows together with worry, "Did I say something wrong?"
He chuckles a little when you move to carefully climb over his thigh to slowly slide off the cot, his hands hastily moving to your hips so he can steady you when you nearly fall face first into the floor.
"No, you just--" He makes a funny noise as he moves so his thick legs are dangling off the side of the cot and you're caged between them; you smile when he brings you closer without having to use much guidance. You think the Mandalorian could guide you through your darkest, scariest nightmares and you would still trust him not to let any harm reign down on you--that he would be able to lay waste to anyone or anything that attempted to cause you pain or discomfort, all while holding your hand.
"I'm just daydreaming, like you always do."
You smile at the slightly wistful tone he manages through his crackly modulator.
"About what?"
He lets out a deep exhale when you bring your hands up to tentatively cup the sides of his clothed neck to hold him in place, though he could easily shake you off if he desired.
"I’m daydreaming about you, mesh'la--always about you."
Your breath catches in your throat when he wraps his arms around the back of your thighs and drops his helmet against your stomach, resting it there as if it's the softest pillow he's ever owned. A small, desperate groan has you nearly giggling and you hesitantly choose to firmly massage the tense muscles in his broad shoulders and the back of his neck. He gently squeezes the back of your legs with gratitude and pulls you impossibly close; you remember with burning cheeks what he had admitted to you last night.
"The things you do to me… The things I would do for you."
You're not used to feeling wanted in any way shape or form, but something about the way he strokes the back of your covered thighs and melts into you makes you think he’s not toying around or jesting with you. Despite never trusting anyone enough to want to pursue some sort of physical intimacy with them, you find that you're absolutely flushed at the sound of every little groan and grunt he lets out as your fingers work at his tense muscles. You’re unfamiliar with the dull ache that’s burning something fierce in the pit of your stomach, but you find that it’s not an unpleasant sensation.
You’re absolutely certain it has nothing to do with your healing injuries, but more so with the way one of his hands finds the small of your back and gently squeezes.
It’s not until your fingers manage to curl underneath the bunched up material that covers his neck that he lets out with a groan so loud and a shuddery breath that you nearly yank yourself away from him, fearing that you’ve somehow managed to harm your Mandalorian.
“You’re good--fuck, you’re good,” He reassures you before you can remove your hand from his warm skin and you fear that your skin will actually be set ablaze, “Feels really nice, is all.”
You glue yourself to that spot and continue to provide him with any relief he’s willing to accept from you. Happiness and dread burns hotter than coals in the pit of your belly when you realize that you are somehow able to reduce the huge warrior to this kind of state. Something about him displaying such vulnerability is humbling and satisfying, but you realize just how accurate your father was when he spoke of being able to hurt the Mandalorian in other ways. Judging by how upset he had been the previous night upon first noticing your injuries, you are certain that your father would wish to cause him pain through your own suffering.
“If he ever hurt you to the point where you could not be healed, I would not hesitate to act so cruelly and I would not let anyone stop me.”
You remember the Mandalorian’s grave promise and lower your head in shame--fear and sadness suddenly threatening to drown you underneath its massive tidal wave. You do not wish to be the reason for your Mandalorian displaying such acts of violence and you realize that the soft words he had spoken in your sleepy state about taking you away from the village was only part of a silly dream.
“It seems as though you need rest as well,” You whisper, hating that your voice shakes from excitement and fear, “I’m sure your own bed is far more comfortable than this dinky little cot. You should go back to your tribe and get some sleep since you didn’t seem to get any last night.”
“I’m sure my bed is comfier than yours as well,” The Mandalorian huffs, completely disregarding the last sentence, and you feel the blood rush to your cheeks and your heart leap at his next words, “Perhaps you would like to test it out sometime?”
Your chest heaves a little at his boldness and you struggle to shrug it off, “I think you just want a body to keep your bed warm at night and I am not that kind of woman.”
“And I am not that kind of man.”
“Yet you would still invite me to sleep in your bed?”
“Did we not sleep together last night?” His shoulders are shaking from what you think is him trying not to laugh and you roll your eyes, though a warm smile stretches across your lips.
“Besides, your skin is always freezing--I doubt you would be doing much to warm my bed, though I don’t think that’s a bad thing, mesh’la,” His voice drops into a deep, low rasp as he slides his hand up the base of your spine, fingers splayed wide against nearly the entirety of your lower back, “I would not mind warming you up every night, especially in my bed.”
“You cannot say these things to me, Mandalorian,” You huff at the tenderness and intimacy of his words and his impossibly tight embrace, “I am not--I’m not used to others wanting me the way you seem to want me.”
“Has nobody--” He seems to struggle with his next words as his hand tenderly squeezes your hip, “Has no one ever told you how beautiful you are? Or how pretty your eyes are? How soft your hair is and how nice it looks when you wear flowers in your braids?”
Your breath hitches at the utter conviction in his modulated voice and you loathe how shaky your voice is when you speak, “I cannot say anyone has said such things to me before, nor do I feel deserving of those kinds of compliments. I know I am nothing special.”
“Is that what he tells you?”
You look away from the warrior shamefully, even when he sits up a little straighter, his visor piercing your soul as you answer him, “It is what I know.”
The tips of his warm fingers curl firmly into the back of your thighs as he moves his helmet backwards to gaze up at you and you think that this kind of skin contact must be so rare for him that it brings more pleasure than anything else. He seems so vulnerable like this--sitting on the medical cot where the two of you had just spent the night together, his helmet pressed against your ribs that had been intensely bruised and aching only hours ago. Though there’s still a small amount of pain that lingers, it is now significantly milder after he used your bacta salve to heal the worst of your bruising.
“Don’t speak lies about yourself, cyar’ika--it hurts me too,” He almost sounds like he’s in pain as he holds you so close to him, “You are by far the most beautiful person I have ever encountered in Nevarro--in the entirety of this galaxy. You are deserving of so much more than my words and I would never stop trying to convince you otherwise.”
“You are too sweet to me,” You murmur, voice still shaking with intense emotions that you’re not used to feeling, “I wish there was more I could give you in return.”
With little hesitation, you curiously burrow your fingers deeper underneath the thick fabric of his tunic as you massage the soft, pillowy muscles of his tense shoulders, enjoying the way he groans and pushes himself closer to you when you rub at a particularly tender spot.
“Being able to hold you is all I could ever ask from you, but having your hands on me like this is a nice bonus,” His voice is deliciously hoarse and low, even through the guise of his modulator and he practically keens when your fingers squeeze the tension away from just underneath his nape, where he carries stress the most between his shoulder blades, “Vor entye--thank you, cyar’ika.”
You’re well aware of the way his hands barely move an inch up the back of your thighs as you reluctantly remove your hand from the heat of his cowl, finding purchase on the hollows of his cold Beskar cheeks instead. He makes a small humming noise when you urge his helmet backwards a little to properly gaze up at you and you can’t stop yourself from smiling from the comfort that the shine of his visor bestows upon you. His hands move to cover yours and you beam when he places them on top of your much smaller ones, carefully squeezing your fingers.
“One day--” He sighs and cocks his helmet to the side as his voice drops, “One day I will feel your hands on my cheeks--on my skin.”
“But your helmet--your creed?”
“There are ways, cyare,” He informs you, his modulated voice crackling a little, “I will show you some day.”
You smile weakly and barely nod at him, deciding it was probably one of those traditions sacred to his people.
A few stray beams of crimson sunlight infiltrate your tiny office through the cracks of the blinds and you reluctantly pull away from one another; you feel the pull he has on your heart, as if beckoning you to remain close to him. You fear him leaving to go back to his tribe will unravel you completely, though you remind yourself that if you rely on him like this, it will only cause more pain when all is said and done.
He stands tall above you, still observing you as you make your way over to the vulptex that is barely starting to wake up, her eyes narrowed in the Mandalorian’s direction.
After checking the state of her minor wounds and hand-feeding her some dried meat--much to her utter dismay--the beautiful creature seems to be in better spirits as she allows you to tenderly pet her rocky coat. You can’t help but to grin and giggle a little when she squeaks happily, letting you tenderly scratch her rocky little chin with admiration.
“What are you going to do about her?” Your Mandalorian questions when you eventually face him, watching with interest as he easily adorns his chest with that scuffed up cuirass before turning to his much larger equipment, “Would he not be angry about you taking in a stray? It’s just a weak runt, saviin’ika, are you sure she’s worth all this?”
“Do not speak of her like that,” You frown, turning to the tiny vulptex that is staring up at the two of you with curiosity, “Of course she is worth it.”
The Mandalorian sighs and shakes his head as your crystal companion clumsily rises from her pillow and quickly hobbles over to you for comfort; you’re quick to reach down to scratch just behind one of her large ears. Her crimson eyes blink slowly at you with adoration and you wonder how anyone could possibly have the desire to harm or kill a creature so beautiful and sweet. You think it must be difficult for your Mandalorian to be able to relate to having feelings of helplessness, what with being a trained warrior and you wonder what it must feel like to be a feared man in a village like this.
You can’t even begin to imagine not feeling like an easy target.
“What if he--?”
“I’ve been able to hide my smaller patients before,” You inform him, grabbing his large hand in both of yours before he can put his glove on; his helmet cocks to the side and you think he must be amused, “I’m sure she will not be difficult to keep hidden.”
“She is not the first stray you’ve taken in?”
You raise your brows at the blue warrior who seems utterly content to let you explore the coarse, calloused skin of his knuckles, “You’re still here, aren’t you, Mandalorian?”
“Funny,” He huffs in an incredulous manner, shaking his helmet at your teasing voice, “I’m being serious though, please be careful. I would rather you not be bruised and broken the next time I see you because of you having such a soft heart.”
You swallow the lump in your throat and nod slowly, dread creeping through you as you whisper your next words, “When will I see you again?”
“I--” He watches you as you lower your head, not wanting him to see the fear and despair in your eyes that he seems to find so expressive, though he still seems to have an easy read on you as he speaks with anguish evident in his crackly voice, “I am not sure, but I promise it won’t be more than a few days this time. It is for the well-being of the tribe, something that will benefit us.”
“Then that is good,” You murmur, though the ache in your chest still burns painfully and you force a meek smile, one that he easily sees through “They are your biggest priority.”
You wonder what it must feel like to have that kind of intense love for your family--that willingness to walk through flames and the most dangerous of situations, all to protect the ones you love. You find it absolutely beautiful--the dedication that Mandalorians have to their tribe--and you briefly ponder if you’d ever get to meet any of the warriors from his tribe, if he would ever trust you enough to even entertain the thought.
“You both are my biggest priority, mesh’la,” You absolutely loathe how vulnerable and scared you feel as you keep your tear-filled eyes away from his visor and you hear the heavy-infantry warrior grunt a little, stepping closer to you, “Please don’t cry. Stars, I’m not worth your tears.”
“You are worth every single one of them,” You inform him in the form of a breathy whisper, quickly shouldering away a tear that manages to slip from the corner of your eye, “I will wait for you, I just fear that you would not come back for me. I have--I have been abandoned far too many times, Mandalorian. I am afraid.”
“I will always come back for you,” His back straightens and his helmet jolts to the side a little, as though the thought of not returning to you has him feeling distraught, “That is a promise, ner cyar’ika, and I never break my fucking promises to those I care for.”
Your breath hitches at the utter devotion that’s apparent in his deep baritone and you can’t stop yourself from bringing his massive hand up to your face, barely aware of the way he grunts and shifts when your lips find the rough callouses that cover his knuckles. You’re used to dealing with tough criminals and bounty hunters that have no reluctance in displaying their dominance or strength, but as you gently kiss the rough marks and scars that he’s willingly exposed, you think it’s the first time a man has ever been utterly relaxed and pliant under your touch.
“What are you doing--? Saviin’ika are you--?”
He chokes a little when you maneuver his hand until his palm is facing upwards and he’s gently grasping your lightly bruised cheeks, not quite as tenderly as the previous night, but still making sure not to cause you any pain. You think the bruises must linger on your skin like some sort of beacon, judging by how tenderly he squeezes the supple flesh.
A part of you gains satisfaction in the way the massive warrior groans loudly when you firmly press your lips into the warm, bare skin of his rough palm and you’re stunned and lightheaded at the thought of having this kind of power over such a fearless man.
“You said last night that you wished you could kiss me,” You remind him and you swear he shudders against the light hold you have on him, as though you somehow have the same effect he has on you whenever he decides to grow bold around you, “This is the only way I know how to give you one.”
His chest heaves a little upon feeling that warmth of your lips in the valley of his thumb and index finger, “I wish I could give you more. I wish I could show you how precious you are to me--so fucking precious to me, saviin’ika.”
You feel your eyes brim with hot tears at the utter conviction in his raspy crackle of a voice and you want to tell him that he’s already done plenty to make you believe his affection and intentions with you are completely genuine. His shoulders drop as you tend to a rough callous on the heel of his palm with your lips and you think you feel his fingers tremble against your cheek. It is then that you realize just how much you two have in common, both of you not used to the tender touch of another soul and you marvel at the thought of someone so much more powerful and far larger than you being just as touch-starved and vulnerable.
“You took care of me last night and helped with my wounds. You saved me from that cruel criminal and held me all night to keep me away from my nightmares,” You remind the aloof Mandalorian, peering up at him with a soft, kind gaze that seems to only unravel him further, “I have… I’ve never been someone else’s patient before--at least not since before my mother cared for me--but what you did for me was the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me and I could not ask for more from you. You have given me more happiness and hope in the last decade than anyone else."
“I want to give you more,” He pleads, almost sounding helpless underneath all that armor, a thought so ridiculous and shocking to you, “Cyar’ika, I would give you anything you wanted if it meant you blessed me with that pretty smile of yours.”
He seems hellbent on giving you some sort of gift and you wrack your brain for anything within reason your blue warrior could possibly conjure up for you.
For some reason, you think of all the nicknames he’s affectionately gifted you with, along with knowing your real name, and your cheeks flush when you realize the only name you have for him is ‘Mandalorian’. It feels too formal for your liking and you wonder if he feels the same way--if he longs for you to murmur his real name when you’re whispering soft praises underneath the tender care of his hands whenever he’s softly caressing your bare skin.
You don’t know enough about Mandalorian customs or traditions when it comes to their real names and you think that perhaps it’s taboo for him to share his name with outsiders. The last thing you want is to cause any offense or disrespect to his people that he evidently cherishes and you let out a soft sigh against his palm.
“Always thinking so much and never saying what’s on your mind,” He observes thoughtfully, not seeming upset by your quiet reluctance, “Your thoughts are safe with me, always.”
“I would not wish to offend you for what I want from you,” Another gentle press of your lips against the center of his palm has the huge warrior grunting once again and pushing himself further against you, “It would be selfish of me.”
“I would give you anything you wished for--” He breathes as your lips graze across his rough fingertips, “And knowing you, it is something that is not selfish.”
“How could you possibly know that, Mandalorian?”
“Because I know you are not a selfish woman,” He chuckles as your soft lips continue to praise his warm skin with great tenderness, though every time you think of the promise you made to your father and how easily you broke it, you feel like the most selfish woman in the galaxy, “Tell me what it is you wish for, cyar’ika, and I will give it to you in a heartbeat.”
His hand tenderly moves to cup your cheek and you know that he must feel how hot it burns for him--for the promise that his deep baritone carries and you fear that your heart will actually fail its main purpose.
“Even your name?”
“Anything for you, cyar’ika--anything.”
The way he doesn’t hesitate in the slightest almost leaves you in tears and steals the air from your lungs.
You smile at the way he grunts, as though he doesn’t know how to respond and you relish in the way you are able to reduce him to a state of being speechless when you’re certain that there aren’t many who had such an effect on him. For what you think must be the hundredth time in the last few hours, he leans down to gently nudge his forehead against yours and you shiver when he pulls you in close. Something about the way he holds you this close or how he softly rubs his scuffed up helmet against your head makes you think that these gentle headbutts hold more meaning and sentiment than you originally thought.
His hands find their home on your hips and you loathe that his cuirass and all the padding and equipment he wears prevents you from melting into him as he simply holds you close. Carefully, he drops his helmet into the curve of your neck and you hear the way he inhales deeply before releasing it and you think you feel some of his warm breath tickling your exposed skin. You remember him admitting how he oftentimes swore he could smell your hair--your flowers--and you wonder if that's what he's currently trying to do, even though you lack your usual violets.
“Paz.”
His voice utters a single syllable and your heart leaps high into your throat, threatening to choke you with the intense emotions you’re currently feeling.
Immediately, you grin when he reluctantly lifts his helmet to observe you, as though he's nervous of your reaction and you decide you don't mind seeing the Mandalorian act as sheepish as he often makes you feel.
"Paz," You repeat the three-lettered name out loud with a sheepish grin, your voice sounding so soft and quiet compared to the way he says it in that deep baritone; you say it again, a little louder and more sure of yourself, "Paz. I… think it suits you."
He hums, shaking his scuffed up helmet at you and you think he must feel embarrassed, for whatever reason, "What's that supposed to mean?"
You force yourself not to giggle at the terseness in his crackly voice, “It is sweet and sharp, kind of piercing, just like you. It is gentle, but also rough--just one syllable and so short, but no less meaningful. It suits you and I… I love it.”
“My name?” He chuckles, and you almost loathe how amused he sounds as he hunches over to press his forehead against yours, "You love it?”
Your cheeks burn something fierce as you nod a little against his helmet, "Yes, but I also wonder, do you have a last name as well?”
“Yes, cyar’ika,” He hums, his deep baritone rumbling like roaring thunder against your eardrums, “Perhaps one day I will give it to you.”
Your frantic heart instantly falters and your eyes widen as he gently grazes the apple of your cheek with his knuckles that you had previously been praising with your lips. You realize you must be overthinking his words, judging by how calm and cool he sounds as he murmurs soft words in his native tongue that barely make it past his vocoder. Though you've only known the Mandalorian for a few months, the thought of having such a future with him fills your belly with an intense heat and you don’t say anything out of fear of your voice shaking.
Suddenly, he pulls his helmet away and you frown at how frantic he suddenly seems to grow, immediately fearing the worst.
“Shit--I almost forgot after everything that happened last night.”
You watch with utter curiosity as he pulls away from you and makes his way over to where he had left his utility belt on your desk, carefully shuffling through one of the pouches with great intent and precision, “When I was traveling the last few days I saw something and it reminded me of you. I want you to have it.”
Your brows pinch together in confusion and you frantically shake your head when he turns around with a white cloth that’s wrapped around your unexpected gift, “You...? You just gave me something so precious--I couldn’t possibly--”
“It is nothing special,” He chuckles as he begins to unwrap the object, shaking his helmet at your anxious tone, “It didn’t cost me anything other than my pride when everyone in the tribe found out.”
Your eyes widen and you gasp when Paz reveals a beautiful white flower that’s the size of your palm, it’s long petals wispy and curled around the ends. You don’t even realize your eyes are brimming with tears and you can’t remember the last time someone has made you cry out of happiness, your cheeks aching from how big you’re smiling.
“I’m not sure what kind of flower it is,” He explains sheepishly when you don’t say anything, “Underneath the moonlight, the tips of the petals turn blue. I thought it might...”
He turns his visor away from your face when you grin up at him, “You thought what, Paz?”
“That it might look pretty behind your ear.”
“You--” Instead of saying anything else, you launch yourself at him and you’re surprised when he actually stumbles backwards the tiniest amount as you squeeze your arms around his broad shoulders. He chuckles and easily holds you close, his arms wrapped around your waist and you’re too distracted by the beautiful gift to feel any discomfort from his gauntlets digging into your back.
“No one has ever given me a flower before,” You press your face into the crook of his neck and listen to the way he sighs your name when you kiss the bunched up fabric, “Th-Thank you.”
Paz reluctantly lets go of you when you move to tuck the flower safely behind your ear where he thought it would look prettiest and you give him an inquisitive expression, as if silently asking him to confirm his suspicions.
“You are so beautiful,” He reaches out for you and for a moment, you think he’s going to touch your ear or stroke the big flower, but instead, his hand cradles your cheek in a way that steals your breath, “I... I don’t want to leave.”
“You must,” You remind him with a sympathetic smile, understanding his pain all too well, “We both have important jobs to do. I could walk with you as far as you would let me?”
He huffs, the thought of you walking with him no doubt an amusing one, but he nods as you carefully scoop up the vulptex in one arm and grab his elbow with the other, letting him lead the way. You notice that he walks slower, visor dutifully scanning his surroundings and you wonder if he’s always this cognizant of his surroundings or if it’s because of your presence. There’s a slight chill in the air, but not enough to make you shiver and you smile a little when the sun continues to slowly rise and warm you with it’s early-morning rays.
You close your eyes for just a few seconds, pretending you’re elsewhere with your Mandalorian, somewhere far more beautiful, and you’re certainly not aware of the way he stares down at you as he leads you further from the infirmary.
“I could not let you go any further,” Paz finally speaks about twenty minutes later, just outside the marketplace, and you turn to face him with a soft little smile, “Someone else from the tribe has been taking jobs in the village for the past few weeks and it is not safe for more than one of us to be above ground for too long.”
“There is no need to explain--I understand,” You reassure him, giving his elbow a firm squeeze and your heart soars when he taps his helmet to your forehead one last time, “Then I will see you soon again?”
“Yes,” He sighs gravely when you two reluctantly pull away from each other, “I mean it this time too. I am hoping the next time I see you, I will have good news, cyar’ika.”
You beam and cradle the vulptex securely to your chest with both arms. Though you don’t know exactly what kind of news he could possibly have that will affect you in any way, shape or form, you’re still excited to hear more about his tribe--his people--and you give him a frantic nod. After saying your goodbyes and blushing when he gives your chin a little tap and a reminder to keep your head up, you make your way back to the infirmary, a bittersweet sensation lingering like a dark cloud over your heart.
“It’s okay, little one,” You gently shush the vulptex when she lets out with a sharp whine, as though your downtrodden disposition is affecting her also, “At least we have each other, right?”
You give her a soft smile when her eyes slowly blink up at you and even though you should feel ridiculous for talking to an animal, it doesn’t stop you and you continue to tell her of your hopes and dreams for the future--your wants and desires pertaining to your blue Mandalorian. A part of you realizes there’s something cathartic about speaking to someone or something that doesn’t actually know what your saying, perhaps because you know that your crystalline companion won’t judge you.
Before you can tell her that you long to run away from all this, you freeze when you look away from your confidante to check your surroundings, only to be met with the sight of a figure storming towards you with a blaster trained on your vulptex.
You’re not sure what fills you with more fear--
The fact that you’re already going to lose your precious companion, or the familiarity of the t-shaped visor that’s pointed directly at you.
Ner= My, mine
Mesh’la=Beautiful
Saviin=Violet
Cyar’ika=Darling, sweetheart
Cyare=Beloved, loved, popular
Taglist *If I missed anyone or anyone wants to be added, please let me know!*: @parabatai-winchester @auty-ren @theocatkov @oloreaa @talesfromtheguild @blindedbyyourgrace17 @datmando @dartheldur @miscellaneous-mando @karpasia @ben-is-a-hoe @the-feckless-wonder @whatababeleia @maybege @aeryntheofficial @corrupt-fvcker @lackofhonor @phoenixhalliwell @crazy-kat-in-the-hat @roxypeanut @mandolovian @honestlystop @teaofpeach @macabrefaerie @acynicalcat @spaghetti-666 @readsalot73 @lanatheawesome @absurdthirst @anakinsittinginsand @yes-music-is-my-religion @tangledlove27 @justrunamok
#paz vizla x you#paz vizla x reader#paz vizsla x reader#Paz vizsla x you#mandalorian x reader#the mandalorian fanfiction#PLEASE DON'T HATE ME FOR THAT LAST LINE#OR THE OTHER QUESTIONABLE PART#I HAVE MANY THOUGHTS#OKAY#my writing
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Hi, saw that you are in therapy. How do you approach the subject of 1D in therapy? I'm embarrassed to bring up how much I'm invested in them to my therapist tbh and also worried she's gonna a tell me to drop them cause it's not healthy.
Hey friend! I honestly was pumped when I woke up to this ask yesterday because it’s a really good question. One that I think a lot of people worry about. And is probably pretty prevalent for a lot of us in fandom spaces as a lot of us are mentally ill and/or neurodivergent (and yeah I don’t think that’s a coincidence). I just recently got back into therapy after a few years away. I went consistently from when I was 18 to 24. And I just got back in at 27 because, surprise, life is still hard. But I can tell you that I was not expecting to be going back into therapy with a full-blown 1D hyper-fixation. Yet here I am!
I’ve always been very susceptible to fandom and, what I like to call, the art of obsessing over things. And I’ve mostly felt comfortable talking freely about those things with friends/family and therapists. But it has become more difficult as the outstanding circumstances of being unemployed, in a pandemic, being unable to get my ADHD meds, and being severely depressed have caused my ‘obsessive tendencies’ to become a lot more intense, focused, sensitive, and longer-lasting which is why I’m using the term hyper-fixation currently to separate it from the general fandom experience.
It’s come to feel a lot less like a fun extracurricular and more like a coping mechanism that I can’t picture functioning without. Maybe this is similar for you, anon, as you label your investment as “unhealthy.” But I hope you can step back from judging yourself for a moment and acknowledge that this might be a coping mechanism for you. We can sometimes be all too quick to judge coping strategies as healthy or unhealthy when we are simply just trying to do what we can to get by. I am aware that my current hyper-fixation might not be the quickest or most obvious way of healing myself. However, I know that I am indirectly processing my trauma through it which is, for right now, far easier for me than confronting it directly.
So, yes, in therapy I’ve brought up my 1D obsession, touched briefly on Larry, and spoken at length about how much fan fiction I’ve been reading. My therapist hasn’t really dug further and we just end up moving on to the next thing. He always ends up being more curious as to what’s underneath it and far less concerned about me “being too invested” in something. Any therapist worth their salt would NEVER in a million years tell you to drop something you are passionate about. You are allowed to love things, you are allowed to be a fan, you are allowed to be crazy-obsessed. I highly doubt that she will tell you any differently but if she does, perhaps try finding someone new. Both of my parents are psychologists as well (fuck my life) so I am well-versed in the theory behind psychotherapy and it would never be advisable to tell a client to drop something that brought their life joy even if there were unhealthy aspects to it. You aren’t doing heroine, ya know?
Anyways, if you’d like to then tell your therapist about 1D! What you love about them, how they make you feel, why you feel so invested in them and their music and their story. Explain what resonates or upsets you. That will likely reveal a lot of things about you that might enable her to help you further. For me, the goal of better understanding my hyper-fixation is not to love the thing less by any means. But to make your individual happiness less dependent on said thing. Right now I’m so sad all the time that simply a singular tweet from Louis can give me a huge boost of happiness I would not have had otherwise. My goal is not to rid myself of my hyper-fixation but rather change the nature of it so that I am happy more often even on days when nothing exciting happens in the fandom. A tweet from Louis will still bring me joy but I’d prefer it not to be a glass of water in the middle of a fucking desert.
So, anon, I hope that helps in some way! Feel free to come back anytime. Also, big props on being in therapy! It’s truly one of the best moves you can ever make.
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1, 5, 23 :)?
Thank you!
1. What themes would you like to write about that you feel don’t get explored very often?
Themes aren't usually the first thing that emerges in my stories (and tbh I write a lot of romantic love, trust, loneliness, etc. and I feel like those have been done to death) so I'll just list some things that I want to see more in stories. The themes might emerge from there.
- established relationships - 99% of the media I've watched/read focuses on the pre-relationship period like it's everything and once they get together, that's it. I love fairytales but that's the only place where "and they lived happily ever after" ending is something I won't call bullshit on. Irl the problems don't end after people get together. In fact, getting in a relationship is usually the easy part. Sustaining that relationship is what's hard. Unfortunately, when most writers think of hardships to put happy couples through, it's usually some kind of stupid jealousy or cheating drama and I think that's the reason why so many works avoid the inclusion of couples in established relationships. The creators just don't know what to do with them and that's sad. Also, I feel like this phenomenon is fed into by the fact that the understanding that your life ends at 25-30 has become so prevalent nowadays and people in established relationships usually land in the over 25-30 age category. So I would really like to see more exploration of building a home for yourself with someone else especially if one - or both - of you haven't yet fully figured out your own lives regardless of age.
- (grand)parent/children relationships - this might be mostly due to me watching/reading YA/NA fantasy/sci-fi but I rarely (if ever) see the protagonists (or any of the characters, really) have any kind of relationship with their parents. I get it that the presence of adult/parental figures may (seemingly) limit how active the teenage protagonists can be in the story but I'd say that that's more a problem of bad writing rather than anything else. The fact that the characters have mentor figures to rely on does not necessarily have to mean that they have to give up their autonomy. In fact, making their own choices in contrast with what they were advised by the adults might highlight their agency further. And the thing that's really jarring to me is that these teenagers/new adults go through so much trauma that would crush any normal person but they're fine even though they don't have any kind of stable moral and emotional support from an adult. I know teenage years are hard and getting along with parents can be more stressful than helpful but parents are still a big part of any teenager's life and I think that there should be place for them in a story. Some examples of where such dynamics are done well are: Jumanji: The Next Level, W.I.T.C.H. (especially the episode where Nerissa is trying to kidnap Yan Lin), Crooked Kingdom (Six of Crows #2), books #3, #4 and #5 (I think) from the Underland Chronicles, The Hunger Games (even if this is more an example of how you can separate the parent from the kids without them being physically absent). In all those examples, the kids make their own choices despite the advice and guidance the adults can provide them with but you're still reminded of that family dynamic and it not only serves a purpose in the story, but is also adorable.
- fantasy based on the author's own cultural knowledge and experiences - it's common knowledge that a lot of fantasy just has a generic medieval Europe setting. I really do get how it can be easier for new writers to fall into that because it's familiar from everything they've read and would therefore demand less efforts to write. I've been there myself. But when you really look at it, it doesn't take less efforts. If you want to be accurate, you still need to do a lot of research that wasn't handed to you in the ready products that you've already read. So if you have to research anyway, you can just try to do something that is both more original and closer to your heart. Taking inspiration from your own culture and the stories you've grown up with. It instantly adds a breath of fresh air to the story and helps it stand out amidst all other fantasy. Even if you don't draw from any stories and mythology you've grown up with, using your own experiences and crafting your world to reflect them will surely make it more interesting than just copy-pasting what you've seen others do.
- magic explored as an extra sense - this is one of my biggest pet peeves. Authors will write characters having magic but they won't have any kind of sensitivity towards the magical happenings around them. As in someone else with powerful magic is about to attack them but they feel nothing. It just annoys me to no end. Now the good news is that this doesn't really happen quite as often as the other things I've listed here. I can think of many shows that do this well (OUAT for one, Fairy Tail, LotR, at least three others that escaped me while I was typing the rest of this paragraph) but it still makes me livid when it's missing (*cough* Winx Club *cough*).
5. Would you rather write a happy ending that soothes the soul or a tragic ending that hurts the heart?
Whatever the story needs. I have no problem writing devastating endings if I think it'll suit the story. In fact, I won't allow myself to write a happy ending that's nonsensical in the story. I don't care how badly I'll have to hurt myself and the readers with the angst. That being said, I do try to write the happiest possible ending for a story. I wouldn't make the ending depressing just to be dark and edgy.
23. Do your prefer reading series or standalone novels and does that reflect on how you write?
It depends, and no. Standalone books are better from a time management PoV. You can invest less time in them and you still get a complete story (it's also cheaper). Plus, that way you can pick up other books instead of keeping up with the same story of a series. However, I do prefer TV series to movies and that is also true with books to an extent (depends much on the story and the quality of the writing). You can spend more time with the characters and get to know them. The downside today is that a lot of series are just unnecessary cash grabs because the first book (or the first three) was successful. It really depends on the book/series in question. My preference in reading has no bearing on my writing, though. Any idea I have will grow to novel-length and even into an epic series if I allow it. It's just how it is and I have to remind myself to slam the brakes at some point.
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Okay, so I want to talk about the Gay Bashing scene in IT: Chapter 2. More specifically, the people say it shouldn’t have been in the movie.
It seems like, out of everything, this scene has generated the most controversy and while I expected this, I want to talk about it.
Or rather, I want to defend it and try to explain its importance.
Let’s look at the five main complaints about it:
1) It was just there for shock value.
No, it’s was in the book. The book came out in the 80s when such overt hate crimes where more common and, to a certain horrible degree, more accepted. In fact, it was based on an actual hate crime murder that took place in the town Stephen King lives (I’ve actually been to that town and seen his house, it looks exactly like you’d imagine Stephen King’s house to look). King often mixes real life horror with the supernatural horror to seen in his box as a way to draw attention to such issue. In this case, it was very much a, ‘This is a horrible, evil, tragic thing that shouldn’t have happened yet did because of the evil that lurks in this town.’ In the book that evil is IT -a personification of the homophobia, racism, anti-semitism, sexism, anger, and abuse that is often so prevalent in small towns- but in real life, the evil is just the hatred that people let control their lives.
2) We weren’t warned about it.
Again, it was in the book. The book is over 30 years old and it isn’t like its an obscure piece of fiction. You knew you were going to see a horror movie, you should’ve googled potentially triggering elements.
3) It glamorized crimes against the LGBT community.
Did we watch the same scene? Because the scene I saw was the furtherest thing from glamorized I’ve ever seen. In fact, I was actually kind of surprised how unflinchingly it was presented -horrible and violent and tragic and absolutely unnecessary.
4) It had not purpose on the overall movie.
This is the one I find the most idiotic. One top of the obvious impact of establishing It’s return, there is the narrative and symbolic parallels to arcs of Richie and -to a slightly lesser extent- Eddie -a dark-haired man with asthma (though not really, in Eddie’s case) dies horribly while a man who loves him watches onward, unable to help. It also further elaborates on Richie’s own fears about his sexuality becoming knows, fears that still haunt him as an adult and we see are sadly not unfounded.
5) It was uncomfortable to watch.
Well fucking DUH! If it didn’t make you uncomfortable than you may have serious issue! I’ll even admit that I had a hard time watching it...and that’s the POINT!
This scene and people’s reaction to it, perhaps more than any other, illustrates a major theme that spans much of King’s works:
Don’t turn away from uncomfortable truths. Don’t force yourself to forget memories just because they are painful. Don’t avoid things because they are inconvenient. Evil will always be there and by not acknowledging it, we make its job easier.
So, yeah, it makes me upset to see people doing just what the story of IT warns against. The murder of Adrian Mellon may be fictional, but it was based on something that actually happened in the passed and will inevitably happen again. We can’t pretend it won’t and we can’t ignore it because if we do than the evil that Pennywise personifies will be allowed to win.
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There was also those clownfuckers who were appearently sad that Pennywise -the evil child-eating killer clown- was ‘homophobic’ (not sure if he could actually qualify myself, it only used Richie’s sexuality to torment him because of Richie’s own insecurities) and was truly evil. To them I say this:
Get help.
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