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#those r just standards people are most familiar with !
absolutely-esme · 3 months
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What if Tim was the Ghostliest Bat
Lots of DPxDC crossover writers have Tim Drake being the one non-liminal Bat, or becoming liminal late in the game. This is probably due to the fact that most of them have died and come back and Tim hasn't.
It makes sense, but, hear me out, what if Tim was actually the most liminal and had been liminal for the longest.
The other Bats had a more standard type of death and resurrection. Afterward, they are simply living people.
Tim's parents are archeologists and bring back artifacts from all over the world. At least some of these artifacts are kept in the house. It wouldn't be too much of a stretch to think that some of them have something ghostly to them.
The specifics could vary. Perhaps the artifacts just steadily release ectoplasm into the environment. Perhaps they thin the veil in places and Tim wanders in and out of the Ghost Zone, getting as much socialization from ghosts as from the living, if not more. Heck, maybe one of those artifacts was meant for travel between realms and Tim accidentally opens a portal on himself and becomes a halfa at a young age.
However it happens, Tim grows up exposed to ectoplasm day in and day out. He adapts to the environment he spends his formative years in. He gradually becomes more ghostly. No one notices for a while because no one around him recognizes the signs and Tim is a quick study at keeping up appearances, at least to surface-level observation.
Tim knows how to behave around strangers and distant acquaintances. That said, he doesn't necessarily realize that his more ghostly tendencies are abnormal and not simply something that etiquette dictates is not shared with strangers.
Tim pays relatively little concern to his own safety because some part of his subconscious knows that he's already assured an afterlife that's familiar and comfortable to some part of him, though he is still conscientious and considerate of the health and safety of others.
He obsesses over The Bats, follows them around and takes pictures. Ghosts tend to be fairly intense about what's important to them, so it doesn’t seem wrong to him. After all, he's not trying to force himself into their lives, and he makes a point to be unobtrusive with his photography so as not to impact them at all. By ghostly standards, he's being quite reserved by keeping his distance and taking care not to bother them, and his human social knowledge doesn't extend far beyond surface level.
He doesn't interact with the Bats at all until Batman's mental health becomes a public safety issue, and even then he tries to get them to resolve the matter internally, first. He only begins directly inserting himself into their lives after recieving express permission from a member of the family.
Once he does become one of them, however, he is intense and unreserved about it in the way that ghosts tend to be about everything that's important to them. He pays close attention and remembers everything. He goes above and beyond with anything they might ask of him, and even with some things they don't ask for but seem to need. He cares in a way that's just a bit uncanny.
No one talks to him about some of his more extreme tendencies. Maybe they just don't have the emotional bandwidth because they're still grieving. Maybe the Bats refrain from commenting on Tim's stalking and general over-the-top-ness because stones and glass houses.
Tim doesn't understand what went wrong in his relationship with Steph because human behavior standards and boundaries are not intuitive to him, nor has he been taught about them. Grief-stricken Bats are not a good resource when it comes to behavioral norms. For all that she's certain he'd never intentionally hurt or upset her, Tim is creepy. Sweet and caring, but creepy.
He also doesn't freak out when Steph comes back and pretends to be a hallucination. The deception doesn't work at all because his subconscious ghostliness means that his brain doesn't automatically reject the idea of a dead comrade being back. He just goes straight into "Hooray, you're back!" mode without stopping to question it. Steph doesn't take the deception any further because he's already caught onto it and he's so happy to see her.
They remain friends.
Jason comes back from the dead and Tim immediately latches on. He doesn't care if Jason is attacking him. Jason is one of his, and he's back. He grins and keeps his banter friendly and gushes about how happy he is to have Jason back through the entire beatdown at Titans Tower. He doesn't actually start sounding worried until Jason begins walking away after writing on the wall with his blood. Tim begs him not to go. The whole experience freaks Jason out.
Tim initially has a bit of an issue with Damian, not because of the murder attempts (which Tim doesn't especially care about), but because of Damian's insistence on not allowing Tim to remain in the family, and because his apparent goal of being Batman's only family member makes him register as a threat to others Tim cares about. Eventually, things settle a bit once it's made clear that Damian isn't going after anyone else and will not be allowed to kick him out.
The other Bats are equal parts wary of Tim (because he's creepy and unsettling in ways that are difficult to define) and worried for Tim (because he doesn't seem to have a sense of self preservation).
Lots and lots of Tim being spooky without realizing it and freaking everyone out with no explanation. No one understands what, exactly, is so off about Tim that makes him so unsettling, until Sam Manson gets dragged to a gala in Gotham and immediately clocks him.
Do with this as you will.
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shaftking · 4 months
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https://www.tumblr.com/godmodebeginswithlesbians/732567688496431104/we-need-less-sanitized-queer-stories-youre-the
I can’t believe the amount of notes this post has of people agreeing with it. I have no idea what The Locked Tomb is so I can’t speak on that, but regarding She-Ra, ever since the finale, I’m one of the people who’s been agreeing with the statement that OP is mocking here. To clarify, though, I’m not a puritanical anti at all- in fact, I’m all for less sanitized LGBT stories (yes, LGBT, not q**r), but I want them to still be well written, make actual sense narratively, and deliver a positive message for a target demographic of children, all which She-Ra failed at.
I read some of the notes and aside from the typical nonsense I’m used to seeing toxic She-Ra fans spew, there are people who reblogged this defending She-Ra while simultaneously admitting that they DIDN’T EVEN WATCH THE SHOW. Ofc they’re not gonna understand or interpret any of the criticism in good faith if they haven’t even watched the damn show. That’s the brainless mob mentality that’s to be expected on this site.
Anyway, as a writer who majored in animation, seeing posts and notes like this is so disheartening. I don’t have much hope for the entertainment industry (especially animation) or the LGBT community. Both have proven that their standards are lower than dirt and that they all have piss poor media literacy and critical thinking skills that lead them to harassing and hating on anyone who dares criticize the media that they blindly worship. It’s insulting as a writer and sets a bad precedent that professionals can just produce poorly written fan fiction with a budget that validates childish NPCs who eat it up as long as it caters to their sensibilities and is under the guise of progressivism for kids so it can be praised as “groundbreaking.” It makes me wanna steer clear of this industry entirely tbh.
I’m also familiar with SPOP but not The Locked Tomb, so I can speak on that. And we all know that I really can’t stand SPOP. I personally view it as one of those shows that was fine and even good at times until it self destructed in the last season and especially the finale with just an astonishing lack of self awareness.
The problem with Catradora, especially compared to the other ships in the show for the most part, is that’s it’s dysfunctional and toxic in a show that is targeted to children that otherwise pushes a lot of life lessons subtexually and textually. This also isn’t just a problem of the relationship itself, it extends to their actions towards other characters, such as the fact that there is no real consequence for Catra literally killing Glimmers mother out of complete selfishness. I think the whole show kind of suffers from sudden character amnesia about other characters past crimes. Because it happened with Hordak and Scorpia and Entrapta as well to varying degrees.
And I think the doublethink the show has about being Mature and Complex vs It’s A Children’s Show So You Can’t Criticize It extends to fan attitudes. And let’s be real, the Catradora kiss was not that revolutionary when SU and LOK already had their representation moments years before. In fact it’s weird and dysfunctional asf to have characters who were implied to have grown up as sisters and raised together (the literal reason why Catra was jealous and over dependent on Adora) just kiss and have all of their problems and past just basically vanish so that they can have a few cute shippy moments before the series finale.
All that aside I personally hate being pandered to and baited. I genuinely want to see stories about people who are LGBT and different races and with different belief systems and backgrounds, but just slapping a label onto a character or story doesn’t make it good, you still have to write good characters and story. You still have to work to make things cohesive and you have to understand that as a writer you will always face criticism. Especially when you market your work so hard as the next big thing.
And as an audience member, at the very least as a teen and onwards into adulthood, you should be capable of media literacy to the extent that you can watch a show about a couple toxic codependent weirdos and recognize that they were toxic codependent weirdos even if you mostly just had fun watching them get up to fucked up shenanigans.
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greenwire · 2 years
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kiwifarms is down
I am, admittedly, not familiar with this. I was checking kiwi farms and found this message, below the cut because it's long.
My thoughts are below the statement. The double standard is interesting. Curious if anyone else is following this and can tell me more.
General Statement
The Kiwi Farms is an online discussion forum about people on the Internet. It is without agenda. If you want to talk about a public figure and their presence online, there is likely space to do so on my website. All I ask of my users is that they keep a cool head, a good sense of humor, and stay strictly within the boundaries of US law.
In the digital era, personal reputation has become a very valuable form of capital. Google, Wikipedia, online news outlets, and other large websites allow a public figure meticulous control over their public perception.
When a community of random anonymous nobodies can setup a forum and talk about a person candidly, where this control does not exist, it creates problems for influential people.
The opponents of this forum lie about its purpose and character. They misrepresent our speech as violence, our information as harassment, and our discussions as stalking.
Google cleans up their search results, the news prints their hit pieces, and Wikipedia canonizes those stories as truth. Instantly, the general public is left with one narrative available to them.
The mob then harass innocent people running unrelated third party services by sending emails in the thousands and threatening their families. This mob claims to be oppressed, when they can summon a hundred thousand dollars out of thin air and bend multi-billion dollar organizations to do what they want.
Meanwhile, our website is down through criminal behavior. Any outlet I use to discuss the ongoing attack is also targeted.
They have tried to justify this behavior with the logic that we "do not respond to anything except fear." What I fear more than losing my site, being sued, or dealing with police is living in a world where fat eunuchs can groom little boys and girls into mutilating their bodies and taking drugs in secret, while normal people are not allowed to even discuss it.
The mob has already planned subsequent targets. Should we stay down, they will then attack 'gender critical' communities - especially those ran by and for women. No place can exist online which allows criticism of their fetishistic lifestyle, and nothing would excite them more than this power and domination struggle being inflicted on a female space instead.
They've made it clear that I and my family will be targeted for abuse and violence regardless of if I keep the site up or let it stay down. I have no reason to do anything but continue forward. Fuck these people.
See you soon, Joshua Moon
(bolding mine)
While women's spaces and gender critical spaces have already been/are already being targeted (most older receipt posts have had images and links scrubbed via tumblr & wordpress), I think taking down KF is a relief to most of the subjects discussed on there. Getting JK Rowling accepted as a bigot by people unwilling to actually read her essay was a huge win for this cause. Taking people and websites completely off the internet, on the other hand, will be tougher.
Most people don't know what KF is and if this movement is going to get them taken down, and they have to do a take down without drawing an audience there. I know KF were targeted many times. They were targeted after a video game emulator (nobody knows his real name or location) likely faked his suicide and disappeared. These attacks have been apparently sophisticated, and the website is now linking to a former Google employee (a total of four people are listed, all transwomen, who according to evidence posted there, are sending minors controlled substances, what they call "HRT"). These are technologically-savvy individuals who want opinions of them and records of their words and actions taken off the internet.
I was just having a rant about this yesterday. We all have the right to access the same public information and draw our own conclusions. You can't have it both ways. You code and use a tracker that tags internet users and journalists as guilty of wrong-think. You can't demand we all pretend we never saw the things you posted, that you made publicly available of your own free will, and break the law to scrub it from the internet. It's hypocritical and it won't work.
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allamericansbitch · 1 year
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My fav songs off the album are definitely the bonus 3am songs, I feel like they are so so much better and different than the original 13? The only ones that stand out to me of the 13 are karma and bejeweled, maybe sweet nothing too. The 13 song album kind of fells like red+1989 to me? It feels like an old sound. like it's promo for 1989 taylors version in a way. the 7 3am songs are so, different and i much prefer them.. What are your favorites what do you think/feel abt the album?
i've seen a lot of people say they prefer the 3am songs which is interesting. i think they definitely go more in depth and have a more familiar type of writing for taylor, in terms of it being closes to folklore and evermore writing that people loved. I feel strange saying which one i prefer because they both offer two very different things. I think the standard version is easier and more fun to listen to, i can already assume i'll listen to it the most out of the two, but the 3am version is more to digest and has more interesting things happening. preference will all depend on my mood at the time i guess.
i do think having both options really shows how taylor can do the fun pop with catchy melodies and easy-listening and then also do experimental, less structured, story-driven songs. i am really curious on like... why she chose to do one and then the other. like she separated what she did on folklore, with the whole album being catchy pop melodies but interesting storytelling and instrumentals. it combined those two styles but this time she separated them into two different albums... i would love her for to explain why just out of curiosity.
im gonna put my thoughts on each side/song under the cut because i have a lot of thoughts and this is the first time someones asked lol
(update: i said so much im so sorry lol)
standard:
i saw some people hating the production and i do not understand them tbh. i love this style i think it suits taylors vocals so well. i think her vocals are so good on this album and her falsetto on lavender haze and labyrinth is INSANE. but her lower register on maroon and anti-hero are amazing too.
people saying it's a blend of rep and lover confuse me tbh because those are like... my least favorite albums but i love this so idk what thats about. i dont hear rep or lover influence at all... both had very rough, clunky production and this has softer smoother production and the lyrics are wayyyy more mature...
one thing no one can discount is her ability to write interesting melodies and hooks and this side of the album proves that, every single song has a melody i love on it.
lavender haze: obsessed with the production and again her vocals are insane. the r&b vibe is everything to me. and the bridge is so cool i love how she delivers.
maroon: the CHORUS?? those lyrics are so good and the story is so cute, that chorus melody is one of her best of all time to me.
anti-hero: perfect single choice and the way she described it i didnt think it would be upbeat btu is slaps. the lyrics are so good and the bridge is really interesting to see people react to. fans who are used to getting the meaning of things fed to them like in some of her other songs are just like 'well thats weird!' but it's one of the saddest things shes ever admitted under the disguise of a catchy upbeat melody.
snow on the beach: lana haters we won. this song is sooo calm i love it. i dont love the 'weird but fucking beautiful' line that much... i feel like she couldve done a little better than that tbh lol. but it doesnt ruin the song for me. i lose my mind at the way she sings 'and it's coming down no sound it's all around' ugh its gorgeous.
you're on your own kid: i've watch two reaction videos so far and they both didnt like this song and want to jump through my screen and put them in a chokehold wtf. im obsessed with the warm, fuzzy guitar production and the chorus melody. amazing. how it just keeps growing in energy is amazing and the story is beautifully told. her highlighting always wanting to feel special and wanted and for people to like her is a constant in her life, and then turning that into needing to remember the good things and wanting to appreciate them. she nailed it. the bridge is just euphoric and deserves to be screamed live i need it.
midnight rain: this one had to grow on me a little but it's a vibe. the melody kinda carries it for me. the lyrics are good and the production being moody but having these moments of sparkling keys or sound being representative of how she was moody but he'd bring in happy moments is cute.
question...?: i think this might be my least favorite, it's still good but i have no idea what this girl is talking about to be honest. i feel like she should've expanded on it way more because it feels like i walked into a story when it was halfway done already, i need more context lol. but it's cute and the melodies make it fun vibe to. the bridge is the highlight, the melody is so fun and the thing jack does with dragging out the last parts of the line is so cool.
vigilante shit: if we ignore the first line it's great lol. i can see why people dont like it and i can see why people love it. i'm in the middle. if it went longer i probably wouldn't like it. i think it serves the story of the album more than just being an individual song. the bridge is my favorite part.
bejeweled: i dont think i liked this song when i first heard it, it was a little too cheesy for me but once i leaned into it i think it's fun and catchy.
labyrinth: everyone give it up for my boy labyrinth!!! this is amazing and her voice is so gorgeous. the production is amazing and that chorus is so comforting? obsessed with the way she sings the plane part. the outro is so pretty too.
karma: she's soooo fun!!! the people with a sense of humor really won with this one. 'karma is my boyfriend' is literally the best sentence. her being like 'me and karma are so tight doesnt that like... suck for you?' the biggest song on the album for sure. the party song.
sweet nothing: the cutest song. i think it's something the album really needed a moment of cute sincerity. the melody in every part is amazing and the fact she highlights that he always says she smart and has a beautiful mind made me want to rip my heart and use it as a tissue. that bridge??? the lyrics are amazing. those classic jack horns go beautifully as well.
mastermind: this one was another grower but i like it. i think its a perfect ending track. the second verse is my favorite lyrically. but also the bridge is heartbreaking and beautiful. the part when she says 'because i carreeee' and a bunch of harmonies come in is amazing.
3am version:
the great war: i think this one is my least favorite simply because it gets a little repetitive. and it's very long for a song that doesn't really change that much from the beginning. and it's a topic we'd heard from her... relating her life to a battlefield. i do like the line 'diesel was desire you were playing with fire'. she's a fun song but i dont think i'd play it intentionally, if it comes on shuffle i'll listen.
bigger than the whole sky: this one is good but it suffers form the same thing as great war, it's too long and doesnt really go anywhere. i think the production is gorgeous and the lyrics are beautiful so that helps a lot.
paris: she's cute and she's fun and the idea is so cute. the first verse is so funny i love it.
high infidelity: calcium harvest come get you juice. i love the way she sings 'do you really wanna know where i was april 29th' and that whole part. that whole refrain is amazing and probably my favorite part of the song.
glitch: i LOVE this one. it's so experimental and weird. i love that guitar and the way she sings and drags out the end of certain lines. the melody of the chorus is everything.
would've could've should've: this is the other favorite of mine. im so glad she finally told him to fuck off again he needed a reminder, he was getting too comfortable. obsess with the production on this one and how dark and threatening it is. within 5 seconds you know shes about to kill someone. this is also one that goes really long but she has a lot to say and she should say it!!! the best part of the song is basically the bridge and every part after that. GIVE ME BACK MY GIRLHOOD!!! IT WAS MINE FIRST!!! best lyric on the entire album.
dear reader: a cute ending as well and the production is amazing, very similar to labyrinth. i've seen a lot of people think this is taylor giving the audience lessons she's learned overtime... and that's scary because she's telling people what not to do lol. she herself reveals she's an unreliable narrator by saying 'never take advice from someone who's falling apart' and she is very obviously that in this song. so... no one listen to the advice. it's really clever though and an interesting subject for a song. i don't think she's ever done that so it's cool.
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Under a dome
It was strange, living on the bottom. At least it felt, now and then, like any of the things we'd seen in the Floornight before the dome's appearance. It was strange to have one's surroundings be what had become familiar.
"Floordropped," it had been called. I'd seen the word go by many times, but each time it had seemed oddly alien. This was a word that, for the first time, felt very natural to me. It was a word which could have meant, and which would have meant, almost anything, and here was its natural home. It would be a word of the future, but it could have begun its life as a word of now.
"All of the strange things that make living in the dome strange are going to have their name. And not just some weird, whimsical or pejorative name, but an observable and specific name. One that, at least by my standards, can be used to express a single distinct set of meanings and concepts."
(In the following note, I try to describe how I felt, at the time, the first time it was said. For clarity's sake, I've chosen to replace every instance of "Floornight" with "post-Floornight.")
"What does it mean?" was my first thought, and I asked it before I had the slightest inkling of the answer. "It was only after, that evening, that I thought: well, what does it mean?"
It was at about this time -- the evening after the conversation that led to this realization -- that I met the first of the new arrivals. It was one of those strange situations where the name "Floornight" felt entirely natural, and even -- for the time being, at least -- completely appropriate.
They called themselves EPRN. I was told that these were just their initials, E, P, R, and N. They said they were the Extended Physics Research Network, and this seemed like a very precise and clear enough explanation. My mind was still very fuzzy.
"So you're going to study it -- just what is it? What's down there?" I said, more out of a desire to know the answer than out of any real curiosity.
"That's just it, Dave," they said. "We don't exactly know what we'll find when we go down there. There's a lot of weird shit that's been bubbling up for years, now, about how the fundamental nature of the physical world might be very different from what we've always thought. Some of it seems like it could be true, or at least worthy of study. Some of it just seems silly, and some of it is outright false. Some of it may even be good news. But we don't have the time to study it all, and the more we do the more we may find out about what we might find when we do."
(Here was my first inkling, of all the words and ideas to come.)
"So what does it mean, that you called it 'Floornight?'"
"We've just been calling it that, for short."
"Why?"
"Well, you're used to the phrase 'bottom-up' theory. Right? A lot of the theories we've studied come from it. And it does come from down there, you have to keep in mind, when you think about it."
"No, I don't think I get it. Why isn't it just a theory, then?"
"Well, the theory says the world is not like what we have believed it to be. It says the world is different, but we haven't yet figured out which way."
(I thought of that "one more step" argument. I had just begun to see some kind of light, and it would not have been fair, just then, to ask further questions of these strange people.)
"Yes, but the bottom-up theories we've studied in the past, they didn't discover the world was different -- they didn't do anything to show us what the different things were -- it was just an argument, a series of steps and hypotheses. We've never discovered what the world is really like down there. We can't have, because it's been here before we got here. We think there's a lot more to learn about it, now, than we did a few months ago, but the new things we're learning don't say a whole lot about what it really is, to be honest. It's a mystery, like most of what's under that dome, which we can hope to understand in full. Not just our understanding of it, but what it is. We want to understand, just how it is, what's there."
"But that's kind of the entire problem, isn't it? We can't understand what it is. There are things we don't understand now. There are things we've learned that have only just begun to take shape in our minds, and there are things that we don't even know we don't know."
"There's another word for it, though -- the word for 'theory' comes from the Greek root for 'theory' -- theos, 'divine.' We'll call it, the 'theory of the divine' --"
"You mean theology."
"Sure, theology. But I know what theology was back when it meant that. That doesn't mean it's the same thing."
"What were you saying about the bottom-up theories we've studied?"
"You're right, we've never proven anything in that way. All that has been proven is the possibility. To start with, what did the bottom-up theories have to say about the actual physical reality, about the objects in space and time? What was down there when the first theories came about?"
"I don't think they ever addressed that," I said.
"Correct. What do they have to say now, when we have the materials to answer it? We'd have to be there to answer it. That's where we want to go, with this mission. We'd have to get into there, that's where the theory is."
"But --" I said.
"But what, Dave?"
"But we'll need a theory, first, so we can understand what we'll be finding --"
"I agree. But once we find it, what then? What are you going to do with it? When you're in there, who do you expect to find?"
"Who do you mean?"
"Well, the theory. It's not just going to tell you 'x' because we say so, and then you say 'y' and it says 'z.' What's going to happen with it?"
"I don't know. I mean, I expect I'll be able to make some guesses. But -- this is just the theory of the divine, and we won't really know what the divine is until we discover that, and we'll have to discover that while we're in there. The theory
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shooting-stars-only · 2 years
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I'd love to hear more about your experience building a career in IT without a degree, if you're comfortable sharing. Desperate for inspiration right now!
Hello anon!! Glad to share! I think IT is a great career for people without degrees. This is extremely long, so it's under a readmore.
So, this answer varies a bit depending on what part of IT you're most interested in. I'm gonna tell you what I did, which was start out as a help desk technician. Afaik, this is the most common career path for IT without a degree.
First thing I did was get familiar with computer hardware. I did this by taking computers apart and rebuilding them while I studied online resources. I got the computers from the local university, which offers spare or old electronics for very cheap; there are probably similar programs in your area.
The second thing I did was find out what certifications I needed. Certs are the currency of the IT field; degrees are useful, sure, but IME certs will get you way farther.
The first certification you'll want to get is the CompTIA A+. The tests themselves cost about $350 each, unfortunately, but that is a one-time payment and you don't need to buy official exam prep material. HOWEVER, I also know people who have no certs and are sysadmins, so this isn't required. They typically started out in a tech support call center and work on their own projects on the side — building gaming computers, learning a coding language, that kind of thing. It's a little harder for them to get going than for those with certs, but not impossible at all.
The A+ focuses on entry-level hardware and software. It's a little deceptive as far as the actual job goes, though; for one, it tests you on technology that's a little outdated (my last test in 2019 covered Windows 7 and 8.1), and you have to memorize shit, like what speed of RAM you can use with which type of motherboard, etc. The good thing is that none of this memorized information needs to be retained. We have Google. Just remember it long enough to pass your test and keep the general theory in mind, no need to remember specifics.
For prep advice, Reddit is a good source (check out /r/comptia), and the books and tests recommended there can be found for free in the right places. Also, if you see this in the next 5 hours, Udemy apparently has their courses on sale for $19.99 (as opposed to $109).
So we'll assume you get the certificate. Now you get to apply for jobs. Lucky you!
I live in a semi-rural area, so my job searching experience might be very different from yours. Here are some general tips, though.
Play up your people skills. My first manager told me I was hired because it was easier to teach willing people technical skills than interpersonal skills. And before you worry too much, please consider that the standards here are "willing to help" and "not condescending." The snotty IT guy stereotype is alive and well, and if you can be more polite than that guy, you're in a good place. People can handle weirdness if you're nicer than the other options.
Avoid coding bootcamps. In general, be wary of paid training that doesn't give you industry-standard certificates. There are so many businesses out there who will happily take your money and teach you the bare minimum before throwing you to the wolves.
For all things resume and interview, I highly suggest checking out Ask A Manager's site. I basically learned all my office interpersonal skills from her.
Try to work in a place that gets public funding. Government, nonprofits, schools, etc. YMMV on this, but I find these environments to be much less (openly) sexist, and more willing to take any complaints seriously, if only because it's worse for them if something negative gets out than in the private sector. Downside: the pay is not comparable at all to private sector pay. It depends on your priorities.
Speaking of pay...what is a help desk technician's starting wage, you might ask?
Well, in my HCOL area, a technician job requiring an A+ cert and a high school diploma starts out at about $28/hour. In Phoenix, AZ, the same job starts out at $20/hour. In LA, looks like it's $20-25, same for Boston. As you gain experience, your value shoots up. My previous position was as tier 3 support (the person the help desk techs turn to when they're stuck), and I was making more than most of my college-educated friends. Except the engineers. But having seen what it takes to be an aerospace or chemical engineer, I'm okay with that.
If you are looking beyond the immediate future right now, you can also check out other IT subfields. You'll usually start off in help desk, but you can advance very quickly. I would suggest:
Cyber security
Data analysis or database administration
Networking
GIS (geographic information systems, very cool stuff)
Software dev (check this out if you like flowcharts)
As far as my career path: I worked as a computer technician for a university, then a tier 2 support job for local government. (I then job-hopped and had a mental breakdown. Simultaneously. I do not recommend that part.) Now I'm a database administrator and project manager. I'm very new to this job but so far it's great.
Please feel free to ask me more questions! Most of my friends are in IT and if I don't have an answer, I can find you one.
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doedipus · 2 years
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I wonder what kinds of statistics would be helpful in arguing that strive should be run best of 3.
I suppose at the end of the day the argument really boils down to longer sets = more competitive integrity, but I can't imagine a single sport or game where that wouldn't be true in theory. I mean, baseball playoffs are best of seven right? maybe that should be the new standard? or I mean, why stop there, like, the physical demand of playing additional matches in a video game is negligible compared to even something like baseball after all. set lengths could be whatever we wanted.
clearly though there's a limit where the marginal returns of longer sets is low enough that the concerns about the production side of things that the wwgg crew has been adamant about since launch would hold more weight.
last summer hursh went through and did some calculations to determine how many sets in a few large tournaments actually went through all five games, which was a pretty useful metric to have. I think it would probably be worth repeating that experiment now that people have had a year to acclimate to the various mechanics and character quirks in the game and more data just exists in general.
I think the most valuable statistic on that end that I could look for would be how many matches that would have been decided one way on a best of 3 format were upset by the end of the set, and also which round of the tournament they happened in. I'd suspect that this would be higher than at launch because of familiarity, but just looking over the notebook I keep of all our stream match results, there's definitely a lot more 3-0s than 3-2s in pools at least. in top 8 the longer format might lead to more upsets because of higher player skill, but that's not part of our programming block so it's less of a concern
the problem there though is that there isn't really anything to compare it to, since to my knowledge it's pretty uncommon for +r or Xrd tourneys to run best of 5. no matter what the data shows, it's hard to say whether strive is more or less prone to successful momentum shifts in the back half of sets than the games it's most often compared to.
it might be worth looking at other games that run longer set counts, but most of those do it for other sorts of reasons- marvel, skullgirls, and bbtag for example only have one round in a game, so the longer sets help compensate.
there's also a lot of other ancillary arguments that leffen stans throw out that boil down to the sentiment that strive matches are decided in fewer interactions than previous games in the series, whether through combo damage or the balance between the strength of offense and defense.
since we have a pretty huge backlog of match footage for +r and strive lying around it would probably be easier for me to gather data and draw comparisons here, but it's also dealing with stuff that's much harder to quantify. there's certain more concrete things I could look for, like the number of times a match swings from neutral to pressure to combos, but even that is something that's pretty wishy-washy
the true end of this saga is me ascending into cyberspace like lain and becoming a one woman baseball-reference.com for wnf guilty gear
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purplesurveys · 1 year
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1576
Have you ever felt like you were dreaming even though you were awake? Uhhhhhhhhh I don’t think so.
When was the last time something just seemed too good to be true? I guess Thursday? We started our subscription on Disney+ then and I couldn’t believe how good the selection is. I literally ended up being 15 minutes late for work because I wanted to test just how complete it is hahaha and I was very surprised that every title I’d search for actually came up.
Do you believe eyes are like windows to the soul? Erm, no.
Has someone ever whistled at you while you were walking? I’ve been whistled at, smirked at, lunged at, whooped at, and honked at, all by men. 
Are you guilty of texting while driving? I used to do it a lot back in college lol but the pandemic not allowing me to drive regularly for two years really did a 180 on my driving habits. I hardly overtake, get consumed by road rage, or text while driving anymore; and the only time I touch my phone is if I have to check Waze.
Have you ever caused a lot of noise in a library? No, that is one of my biggest pet peeves so I’d never do it myself.
Do you complain a lot? I wouldn’t say so; I’m quite the passive type.
Have you ever been to a music festival? No. I’m never familiar with the artists who come play at our local ones, anyway. What was the last thing that completely took your breath away? This is gonna be BTS-related yet again lol but Hobi’s latest Instagram post where he took a mirror shot with a film camera. Shit made me stop work to squeal for the next 10 minutes.
Are you a competitive person? To a fault.
Have you ever been in a relay race? Only in party games lol.
What cereal tastes so good that you always eat more than 1 bowl? I don’t like cereal. It gets soggy and in the first place I can’t even take large amounts of milk without my stomach malfunctioning.
If your life was a movie, what would it be rated? Idk let’s go with an R? I’ve done things here and there.
Are you more of a talker or a listener? Listener. But sometimes it depends on the person too; I could be more of a talker around other crowds.
Have you ever called in at a radio station & dedicated a song to someone? Not a radio station but like in local school fairs where you can send in song requests, yeah.
Would you ever go to a protest or be involved in a protest? Yes, especially if it’s for a cause I’m very passionate about. I joined a handful of protests, too, back in college.
Have you ever tried to walk on a foot that fell asleep & then tripped? Omg yes, that is the worst. One time I landed straight on my knee in the harshest way possible and the poor spot bruised for a week.
When playing rock, paper, scissors which do you usually pick? Rock.
Have you ever tried to write a book? Not a book lol but one-shots...let’s not talk about those...
Don’t you hate it when people blow smoke in your face? I’ve never been blown smoke on on purpose.
Have you ever been hit by a chunk of hail? No; I’ve never even experienced hail. Do one word text messages annoy you? Feel like I’m well past the age to still be annoyed by things like this.
Do you have high standards? This is a very vague question because yeah, I can have high standards for certain things - especially if I’ve paid a generous sum for them. But like when it comes to food for example I can be perfectly content eating at a carinderia.
Have you ever had something to say but you couldn’t get the words out? Pretty sure this is something we all sometimes have to go through.
Have you ever changed your clothes while in a vehicle? Yeah. The worst and most embarrassing part is I was also the driver. I can tell you with all the confidence in the world that that is by far the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. Fucking changing while driving, can you believe it?
Did you ever have your brothers or sisters clothing handed down to you? I’m the eldest sibling so if anything it was my clothes which were handed down to my sister.
Do you have the same routine day by day? It is, but I’m quite satisfied with the setup. My brain can’t process change as quickly as other people.
Would you ever go on a walk to raise money for cancer research? Absolutely.
If you were treated unfairly at work, would you go on strike? I would look for other options.
If God were standing in front of you, what would you say or do? Look around to see if there are any cameras because in no universe is that going to happen ever.
Would you ever try any extreme sports? No.
Do you know how to snap your fingers? With my right hand, yeah. My left fingers can barely produce a snap. Do you plan your outfits for the next day or just randomly choose? I normally plan them the night before so I can just grab my clothes and go (and spend more time in bed in the mornings, lol). < Very accurate also to me haha.
Are you a bossy person? I’m not bossy, but my temper can flare up if things aren’t meeting my expectations. 
Do you control your attitude or does it control you? I’ve been trying to control it because I do want to make an effort to be less hot-headed.
Is it true that if you don’t love yourself, you can’t love another? There is some truth to that, yes. Would you ever give blood? What blood type are you? I wish there was a less terrifying way to donate lol, but with the way it’s being practiced right now I don’t think I could ever give blood.
Is there anything that you believe should be banned for any reason? Donald Trump.
Do you share a bed with anyone? No.
Do you ever try making your dream up before falling asleep? No.
Do you get angry easily? Can.
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perfcell · 5 years
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Do you have any tips or pieces of advice for someone who's looking to start up an rp blog for a character? I have plenty of experience roleplaying, but none of it is with tumblr.
//OH sure sure !! 
lets get the technical stuff out first, make the account for your new blog in advance, before you prepare anything else because tumblr has this anti-bots security system in place which doesnt allow new blog’s posts to show up in the tags (and tags such as #indie rp, #anime rp, #insert show here rp are pretty important in getting ur blog out there). you’ll also have to follow some people, get followed back by at least one, reblog+like some posts before your stuff starts showing up in the tags
of course u can disregard the whole promotion thing and just follow people and wait for them to follow you back, but if u want new people to find you without you actively looking for them, its good to drop something in the rp tag. but again, you dont have to do any of this.
ALSO IM PUTTING THE REST UNDER READ MORE BC IT GOT LENGTHY:
so heres stuff you can prepare (or not, its totally up to you !!)
icons - a relict of dreamwidth era , not necessary but i find that they add some zest to the interactions so personally, im a fan. usually 100px x 100px u can make them fancy or not, your choice. just get some basic facial expressions (but again, you dont NEED them)
themes - some rpers pay a lot of attention to blog themes, i used to be like that but tbh rn i dont think anything beats a nice basic theme w/ a readable font. hit up theme hunter and snag a theme u like !!! OR DON’T, thats totally up to you !!! 
also you can set your blog to dash only in the blog’s settings which means u dont have to bother w/ a theme !! its a popular thing in rpc nowadays !!!
oh and just a hint – id avoid using somebody’s art for icons or elements of theme… i mean sure u can credit them but hardly anybody looks at credits so idk id just avoid it altogether cuz the artists dont like that and theyre absolutely right. i used to use peoples art for icons and i had some artists reach out to me and ask that i dont do that and tbh now i cringe at my past-self for not seeing that its soo disrespectful of the artists
what to put on blog: 
about page - its a page where rpers put some basic information about the character they write as. it can be super important if youre writing as an OC (not many people will follow an OC if they dont know anything about them tbh) !!! if youre writing a canon character u can just resort to filling out a basic dossier (like listing their name, age, whatever… YOU CAN USE THIS and fill out what u like). or you know, do whatever. on cell, i just wrote a piece of Something and linked his wikipedia page lol. do what you feel like, its just a thing in rp community. 
rules page - slightly more important. this is where you set boundaries and introduce yourself ooc. after introductions ur expected to tell people what’s NOT ok by you, for example, you say that godmodding is not ok (godmodding is when people write in their own responses what ur character is doing), maybe shipping is not ok by you, maybe u dont want to write smut ever etc. you put all of that there and any additional info you feel the need to add (for example, asking people to tag certain triggers etc). try to browse other peoples rules pages to get the feel 
verses page - some blogs have a lot of specific verses like idk, an AU in which ur character is evil etc. this is a page where u can put them and add descriptions, UP TO YOU. i find that its less important than about or rules page, focus on those 2 first, especially the rules page bc its what people usually check out first before writing with u!! add verses later !!!
how to start an rp blog: 
OK so lets say you’re prepared and ready to write. i usually post a promo to announce my Arrival to the rp market. take a look at what’s in the indie rp tag for example, just to give you an idea what ppl post there. it used to be REQUIRED to post like… a graphic advertising ur blog but tbh these days u can just drop a text post (preferably with ur icon so that people know which character u write) and you say smth like ‘HELLO, a new (character here) RP blog here!!! like/reblog if youre interested in writing with me!!’ (ofc write whats natural to you, just introduce ur blog in whatever way u feel like it– OR DONT, YOU DONT HAVE TO DO THIS)
BEFORE POSTING A PROMO MAKE SURE YOUR POSTS SHOW UP IN TAGS FIRST. YOU MIGHT HAVE TO FOLLOW SOME PEOPLE FIRST (refer to this) – where to find those rp blogs?? refer to tags below.
what to tag your promo with: remember that only 5 first tags will show up in the search results. so pick some good tags, i think the most important tag is #(show/movie/books name) rp. heres my promo, u can check the tags i used there and come up with your own accordingly. and also browse these tags to find people to follow, like idk, lets say u wanna rp sb from naruto, then u hit up #naruto rp and just scroll and follow ! also avoid using swear words or nsfw words in ur promo bc tumblr will censor it lol
but remember YOU DONT HAVE TO POST A PROMO, THIS IS ENTIRELY UP TO YOU !!!!!
how to start WRITING on an rp blog:
ok so youve gathered some followers, now what. i usually just post a starter call! this is a post that people who want to write with you will like and you in turn will start a thread with them (doesnt have to be IMMEDIATELY, take ur time). you can also reblog rp memes which are like writing prompts people send to you (but i dont recommend starting ur rp blog w/ a memes barrage, people usually want to get to know your blog a little bit more before they send you a prompt). 
you can also wait for other people to post starter calls and then you like them (but check their rules first !!! for example, most people have a rule about being mutuals only, which means they will write you something only if youre following each other back), which also works. 
AND THATS HOW IT GOES !!! you are now writing on an rp blog. remember to take it easy and do what feels natural !!! browse some other rp blogs to get Inspired (but dont just lift things, stealing is a big no-no in the community). do what you feel comfortable with, if you dont want to make icons then dont! you’ll always find somebody who’ll write with you without icons (we just rly like them lol). be patient with others and yourself, read peoples rules, be nice, dont reblog an rp meme without sending a prompt to the person youre reblogging from (thats called reblog karma, if you dont wanna send a prompt then rb from the source), put yourself out there and UHH have fun !
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Text
Happy birthday @foibles-fables !!! Hope you enjoy these things Salty and I made for you :) 
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The below story was written by the wonderful @saltyseafuck as an accompanying piece to the art! 
Aloy is comfortable enough in her own skin to make clambering out of her usual attire and into something else an easy affair. To her, it’s as easy as switching one style of arrow for another, or loading a different cartridge into her sling; the right tools, applied where they should be.
So while the noblewoman’s silks provided to her for the evening are not her standard choice of attire, and are… perhaps a bit more limiting than she might have liked, with their long, silken skirts and delicate, filigree jewelry, she adapts, fastening sashes and buckles, and squinting into the polished machine plating tacked to the wall as she applies the ceremonial markings to her forehead and eyes.
Stepping back and peering at her reflection, she nods to herself, picking up the matching headpiece, and holding it briefly to her brow, before finally discarding it on the bed.
She'll be more recognizable without it, anyway.
Easing the door to her quarters shut behind her as she steps onto the landing, she turns, raising a hand to knock on the door directly opposite hers.
“Done. Should we-”
Before her fist can make contact, the door jerks inward, slamming against the inner wall hard enough to make her jump. On the other side, tangled in the trailing silks of her dress, headpiece askew, Talanah glowers in her direction, resembling nothing so much as her title's namesake, complete with ruffled feathers and irate glare.
Pressing her already-raised knuckles to her lips, Aloy does her best to stifle her laughter.
“I’ve never seen you look this uncomfortable before, Talanah.”
Letting out a growl of annoyance, Talanah raises her arms in awkward protest, spreading them apart and letting the snarls of silk dangle.
“Not. A. Word.”
This time, Aloy fails to smother her laugh, nose wrinkling.
“You look like a Glinthawk. Here.”
Stepping forward and taking the scarf in both hands, she unwinds it from its snarl, threading its ends carefully through the loops of silk sewn into the dress's shoulders, and draping them artfully across her Hawk's upper arms. 
As she reaches for the sash, smoothing the folded silk and cinching the ends around it, Talanah stiffens, pulling in a sharp breath. Pausing with the ends of the sash clutched in each hand, Aloy frowns.
“Too tight?”
Vehemently shaking her head, knocking her headdress even further askew, Talanah clears her throat, ducking her chin (and doing her best to try and hide the flush creeping across her cheeks and neck.)
“No! No, it’s ...fine. R... Remind me again why we're doing this?"
Tying off the sash and reaching up to adjust the headdress, Aloy raises a brow.
"Because, Marad asked us to. He thinks that having us there and visible will deter the elements he's tracking from acting tonight. We just have to be there, and be present... but that means we have to look the part."
Taking a step back to admire her handiwork, Aloy nods to herself, satisfied, before turning toward the stairs, and offering her arm to the Sunhawk, elbow crooked.
"All we have to do is survive a night at a high society party. Easy, compared to our usual exploits, right?"
With a shake of her head that sets the ornaments attached to the edges of her headdress dangling, Talanah takes the proffered arm, giving Aloy's bracer a sympathetic little pat.
"Ah, poor Thrush. You have no idea how wrong you are."
-----
Talanah has always done her utmost to avoid gatherings of Meridian's nobility. They've been an exercise in frustration for as long as she can remember; boring, stifling, and full of two-faced language, insults dealt from behind painted smiles, and barbed comments, tossed her way behind her back.
Tonight's gathering is no different; despite the quality of the musical entertainment and the refreshments, the people themselves have changed very little, and more than once, despite her attempts to keep to herself, she catches several muttered comments and judgements about her new position that she has to silence with a withering glare.
They're the same old infuriating bunch of bungheads, all right.
But perhaps the most frustrating part of the evening is watching the subtle snubs and digs that are being thrown Aloy's way. 
Some of them pass over her head, whether through a lack of understanding or a lack of concern. But a few... a few land, and despite her attempts to shrug them off, or to play dumb... well...
Talanah has spent enough time around Aloy to know, by now, that the slight tightness in her shoulders and at the corner of her mouth, that the darts are finding their mark, worming their way into the cracks in her armor. 
It's enough to make Talanah's blood boil, and her teeth grind together, rattling the arms of her headdress and setting the little ornaments dangling from their ends jittering. 
She saves our asses from the Eclipse, rescues the Sun-King, and takes down Redmaw, and it still isn't enough for these chuffs. I have got to get her away from them. As soon as I can.
So as the musicians strike up an old, familiar tune, and her Thrush's conversational partners begin to drift away, seeking out new conversation or dancing companions, she seizes her chance to strike. 
Downing the rest of her drink, she slams the flagon onto the nearest table with enough force to make the metal ring, stalking across the room to the edge of the dance floor, and extending her hand in Aloy's direction, elbow crooked, fingertips pointed toward the ceiling.
“May I have the honor, Aloy Despite the Nora?”
A light flush creeps onto Aloy's sun-weathered cheeks and, hesitantly, she reaches out to press her wrist against Talanah's.
“Umm… yeah. Yeah, of course.”
Even through two layers' worth of stiffened silk, she can hear Aloy's pulse quicken at the contact.
It quickly becomes apparent to Talanah that, despite her many talents, Aloy is not an experienced dancer. The tension in her movements, the rigidity of her stance, speak more of combat than of dance training. 
And, judging by her persistent blush and the stricken look on her face, somewhere between panic and determination, Aloy knows it, too. Nodding as they circle in time to the rhythm, Talanah gives her an encouraging smile.
“Good. But loosen up a little. Now switch…”
Pivoting on her heel and glancing down at the placement of her steps, Aloy makes the transition more smoothly this time, pressing her lips together and frowning lightly in concentration. Again, Talanah favors her with a little nod.
“That’s right. You're doing great. Just keep your eyes on me.”
As they circle again, picking up the pace as the music begins to quicken, she leans in, conspiratorially, the ornaments on the edge of her headdress jingling lightly.
“Don’t listen to those bastards. They’ve always been like this. And they’re wrong, by the way; you’re fine.”
 Once again, Aloy flushes, cheeks coloring as red as her hair.
“I… don't need their opinion-”
Talanah cuts her off with a sharp tap, rapping her knuckles twice against the silk of her sleeve to catch her attention.
“Hey. Listen. You’re fine. All right?”
Hopefully, hopefully, Aloy will pick up on her meaning.
Judging by the way the tension that’s been building in her Thrush’s shoulders all night drains, like the air hissing out of a punctured Longleg sac, she does, and Talanah is gratified to see the corners of her mouth ease into a smile, instead of a twitchy grimace.
“Yeah. ...thank you.”
This time, when they turn, pivoting around each other again and pressing their hands together, her fingertips twine briefly with Talanah’s, and she feels her own face heat at the touch. 
Clearing her throat, as much to distract herself from the sensation of those calloused fingertips ghosting lightly over her knuckles as to change the subject, she leans in again, putting on a challenging little smirk.
“So, what do you think? Have you got a tie-down on it? Should we show them how it’s done?”
And this time, Aloy answers with an eager grin.
“Yeah. Yeah, I... think I’d like that.”
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flowerwrites06 · 3 years
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break my mind’s eye IV — jjk
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Plot: Jungkook thinks marriage is the only way to seal a deal.
Pairing(s): Druglord!Jungkook x Fashion Designer!OC (Name: Belle)
Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+
Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series
Parts: Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Special 
Word Count: 7k+
Genre: Mafia | Angst/Smut/Fluff
Tags & Warnings (for entire series): drug dealing, marriage through trickery, explicit smut, drug use, dubious consent, prostitution, miscarriage, lots of manipulation, impregnation through manipulation
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Three days passed since their reconciliation and it felt as if the layer of ice around them finally melted into a somewhat comforting warmth. Mornings rose with an innocent conversation on their jobs except Jungkook tried to keep things discreet while they were eating. Nights ended in peaceful slumber, on the few occasions where Belle would sleep on his chest or Jungkook hugged her from behind.
The heavy pit in her stomach elated soon after a couple of decent sleeps. Especially now that the designing process for the Spring Line was almost over. Madame Saitos’ dresses were incredibly rare because each piece of clothing was handmade save for a few trips on the sewing machine. Which is why the designing process comes with a time restraint to ensure that the most raw ideas spewed onto the paper. Of course tweaks here and there would always be required but that time limit created some of Saito’s most prestigious fashion museum worthy designs.
Since Belle designed around half of the finalized line, she would handmake her own designs and the news alone could keep her happy for the rest of the year. After losing an opportunity to see her designs on the runway a tear almost jerked in her eye getting that chance again.
Secretly though her favourite design she made this month was the satin white suit for her ever fashionably selective ‘boyfriend’. Belle saw the kind of suits in his wardrobe, burgundy velvet, black with golden vectors, silk deep blue and over half of them were Saitos’ original designs. She knew that this suit had to match the standard of his entire wardrobe.
This morning Belle stood in front of an ironing board, briefly smoothing out the textures of the newly designed trouser ensuring that minimal pressure was placed. Glasses slightly slipped down her nose with her hair in a loose bun. Her body draped in a fitted black long sleeve tucked into a khaki green midi skirt and a short scarf tied around her neck.
The woman had enough time out of her work schedule to showcase the suit himself. Especially since ‘Jeon Jungkook preferred private deliveries’ as Saito would say with a playful roll of her eyes.
From what she observed Jungkook came back to the mansion for a lunch time refresh and almost right on the minute, the sound of a car stopping rung in her ears. Something fluttered in her heart knowing whose footsteps grew louder as the corner of her lips curled up when the familiar male showed himself, a small smile directed towards her.
Jungkook muttered a few words about the car to one of the guards before walking towards her while the pants now laid out on the ironing board neatly. “You’re working at home?” Hands dug into his pockets, eyes flickered down to the soft white pants.
Belle smiled with a bright glint in her gaze before turning around and grabbing the open box. “I wanted to give it you properly but—” Partially bandaged fingers hovered over the fabric of the freshly ironed jacket folded with care inside the box. “Do you want to try it?”
Something jolted inside him seeing the woman look over at him that he couldn’t quite describe in any sentence. But he nodded nonetheless. Shrugging off his own blazer, Jungkook kept a close eye on the graceful way she brought the long back suit out displaying it in front of him first. The corners of his lips instantly curled seeing the familiar winged design on the back, similar color to the whole suit except it had a sheen like texture that glistened when brought into the light. A design that resembled one animal he admired the most next to dogs. “Phoenix wings?”
The girl nodding enthusiastically. “Yeah. It’s the first time I’m making a suit for you so–I wanted it to be personal.”
Her voice had turned so sweet in the past few days that Jungkook could melt by the sound at this point.
Belle walked closer and draped the blazer around him, letting his arms into the sleeves before it perfectly lay on his shoulders. As distracting as the measuring session was the woman managed to make the fitting as close as possible. “Is it comfortable?” When the male agreed, she felt a sense of accomplishment burst through her. Saito had her make and mend suits all the time when she was not named a ‘designer’ but somehow knowing this one was done well allowed for a tiny celebration in her belly.
Jungkook watched her beautiful eyes light up, that strange jolt sparking inside him again which he ignored for the time being. “I want to give you something too.” He glanced down at the magnificent blazer before looking up at her.
“What is it?” Belle watched him carefully shrug off the suit so the entire outfit could be placed neatly for the event it’s meant for.
Gentle hand wrapped around hers, Jungkook led her upstairs to their shared bedroom.
Once they reached the area Belle was made to wait on the bed while the male rushed into the walk-in wardrobe. The only thing she could make out properly were the sounds of rummaging through clothes and slight slamming of something wooden. Then his figure appeared again holding a small deep red velvet box in his hand. As soon as her eyes reached the object, her heart hammered before her mind could even catch up. It didn’t take an expert to assume what might lay inside the box as she had seen many like it for one particular occasion.
“I know it looks daunting.” Jungkook reassured as if sensing the thoughts rushing inside her mind. “A lot of deals tend to have paper contracts which we will get at some point.” He padded closer before kneeling down completely in front of her while she sat on the edge, his arms brushing against her knees. “But for now—I want to give you this. As a promise that I’ll never pull the rug from under you…ever. This agreement is as solid as the pillars of this mansion. Nothing will ever happen to it.”
Like a thin paper ripped out from her eyes Belle faced her true reality staring down at the now open box, showcasing a glimmering diamond ring. Growing up the woman had been one of those people who believed marriage was a sacred bond. A promise that two people would stay loyally and happily together till the end of their comforting days. Jungkook showed no sign of being disloyal nor did Belle feel any deep sense of unhappiness in these few days. Looking at the truth behind the veil seemed naïve in this situation knowing it would only make their ordeal miserable all over again. She couldn’t afford to be miserable now. Taehyung was getting better, taking his medicine and moving to become a better man and she had to stay strong to ensure that happened. He deserved to come out happier from all this just as much as she did.
So she smiled down at the male seeing a comforting shine in the ring now. Perhaps a sign of hope rather than some sensationalized sacred bond. “Which finger should I put it on?”
Jungkook chuckled, pulling the ring out and gently taking her left hand. In no manner of hesitation the ring was softly placed on her fourth finger fitted to near perfection. “I borrowed one of your rings to get the fit.”
“It’s beautiful.” She whispered. Her hand absentmindedly reached out to caress the skin under his white collar feeling a slight warmth. Leaning in, Belle pressed a tender kiss just on the corner of his lips before pulling away.
His breath choked in his damn throat feeling her soft lips; his hands almost wanting to caress every inch of her skin and forget about the rest of the days’ work. Though Jungkook respected that Belle understood they couldn’t. No matter how amazing the idea sounded. He merely let out a slightly shaky sigh before giving the beauty a smile. Unfortunately he had to look back at the watch knowing there was a meeting looming in the next half hour almost leaving an empty feeling in his gut. “I have to go back to work.”
Belle nodded, snapping herself back to reality. “I have to go too.”
Hesitantly unlocking their joined hands they both went to their separate locations for the rest of the work-day.
-
Another two days went by in a blissful rush as Jungkook and Belle grew friendlier towards each other to the point where they would even share laughter through jokes from work or childhood life. Belle found out that his mother worked at a magazine company in Beijing while his father ran the investment companies in the US. They were very hands-off parents when he was growing up so his aunt practically adopted and raised him which is why his personality differed greatly from his father. Though his tactics in this business were heavily influenced by him.
Jungkook discovered her parents had been more fond of a son than a daughter so she had to jump through a lot more hoops to be good in their eyes. Eventually it never worked, Taehyung took care of her most of her life so far. That is until her parents were killed in an accidental explosion at their place of work which led to her older brothers’ downfall. Belle’s uncle and aunt tried to take care of him from time to time while she worked at the boutique until at some point they grew tired of babysitting a drug addict.
The two never really had a person to truly share mixed feelings about their upbringing. Even if Belle had Taehyung, he would always somehow reel back and tell her that their parents loved them both equally. Which she knew fully well was not true no matter how much it felt comforting to believe it.
Though the deep conversations usually faded back into playful serenity again now more comfortable with each other’s presence than ever before.
In came the day of the garden party.
Belle dressed herself in a baby blue midi dress, the overlay adorned with the same colored flowers on a sheer material trailing down to touch her knees, crème colored hat to finish it off. The second event she was going to with Jungkook but this time no sense of dread passed through her nor any stress. In fact the woman wanted to see Jungkooks’ aunt wearing the gorgeous dress she chose for the occasion. And Jungkook wearing his own custom made suit.
A similar routine where she walked down the stairs while the white-suited male gave some instructions to the guards possibly about keeping an eye on the mansion while they were away. Then he turned to face her once she reached the center of the living room, a soft smile immediately tugging at the corner of her lips.
The extremely aware corner of her mind now buried itself under all the elation developed through the past few days. Some part already knew that this was a ruse. Jungkook was successfully gaining everything he asked for without barely lifting a finger and Belle truly had no valid choice to disagree. Though if that thought swirled around in her head for too long, it would start aching and this whole experience could fade into torture again.
Perhaps there was a comfort in pretending that his hand intertwined with hers radiated comfort rather than entrapment. The guards bowing to them and leading them into the car showed a sign of protection rather than no means of escape. Jungkook might think the woman a pawn but that did not mean she was one.
From where she sat in the car shoulder pressed to him and hands still linked, Belle imagined herself to sit at the far end of the chess board rather than the front as a mere pawn.
Once they reached the garden party the couple was welcomed with a vibrant burst of nature, people in colorful dress and bright suits floating through the bushes like pixies. Occasionally a photographer or two flashed their camera towards them but hardly anything intimidating like the previous event. Eyes almost immediately flickered over to them when they walked out of the car. Holding Jungkooks’ hand actually provided some kind of comfort knowing she was not alone and exposed to all these people.
Bushes shaped to represent different safari animals, crowds of pink, white and red roses all around coupled with fragrant jasmines and chrysanthemums. The garden looked almost endless from the sides. Belle noticed the large cherry and peach blossoms, little petals falling gracefully and a gorgeous mansion to pull the whole picture together. The building adorned a taupe sandstone with golden detailing similar to Jungkooks’ estate except aged a bit more.
“Darlings!” Boyoungs’ voice rung in her ears as the woman bounced towards the couple wearing a royal purple midi dress with some matching wrist gloves and a floral hat to top it off. Purple tinted lips stretched out in a bright smile, hugging the both of them with the same enthusiasm.
The older female led them to the main table where her husband sat with a few other family friends who welcomed her with an intrigued smile. Sitting under the shade of the laced line umbrella provided some cool away from the warm sun while they were served tea.
Boyoungs’ eyes immediately flickered towards the shining diamond around Belle’s finger and a small gasp caught in her throat. “Oh you proposed!” Her announcement ripped through the entire group and onto a few others outside of the umbrella as a rush of cheer passed on like a infection.
Belle merely smiled with her gaze fixed on the rose tea while Jungkook chuckled nervously. She hoped they would not ask for a romantic proposal story but they all seemed to just pat the young male on the back. Some of the ladies asked what kind of cut it was which the girl gave an answer from observation. It didn’t take long for her to realize that most of these people were probably arranged to marry. So the idea of any romantic story would be useless to them even though Belle and Jungkook were supposed to be a ‘love’ marriage.
Somehow the lack of her own froufrou story made it easier and harder to sit at the table. Belle politely listened to stories of awkward marriage arrangement along with an attempt to sound less hostile towards each other. For a minute she prided in being so good at pretending that her marriage was happy and full of light.
Though the pretense became exhausting really quickly. Her posture began to falter as her rose tea reached the end of its fill and the shade from the sun created cloud over her mind.
“Excuse me.” Belle spoke as gently as she could to the crowd. “I’m going to take a stroll.” She smiled getting up from the chair, chest feeling a little constricted.
Jungkook watched her in slight concern when she excused herself. Truthfully nothing about this conversation comforted him either. The whole idea of marriage, especially one that came from a business arrangement didn’t spark happy stories and it was a situation that some attendees at the table could relate to. The only thing he could do as a sign of comfort was touch her hand lightly which she squeezed in response before he watched her walk deeper into the gardens.
-
A couple of minutes passed and Jungkook grew tired of the conversations bubbling between his family friends so his eyes wandered to other attendees. Eventually his eyes set on one particular male, simple black suit with a silver necklace around his neck and blue lens glasses over his eyes.
Excusing himself from the table politely, he walked over to where the other male had been examining the jasmines. A few colorful pixies rolled in front of him and giggled when he gave them way until finally he was able to come close to a more reassuring face. Well second most reassuring to the one that just glazed through the gardens on her own.
“Didn’t know you were so fond of nature.” Jungkook smirked standing next to him.
“Well a lot of my supplies come from plants.” He shrugged, eyes merely scanning over the flowers and trees not really focusing on anything in particular.
“Technically they’re my supplies but sure.” He dug his hands into his jacket pockets, attention trailing and silently searching for a familiar blue dress. “Anything to report?” It was a regular, almost absentminded question at this point whenever he saw the male since he was responsible for most of the sells around this area.
Hoseok took a generous sip of tea before wincing as he stared at the decorative cup. “Rose tea tastes like piss.” He cleared his throat, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. “Everything’s fine so far. Clients are rolling in payments from all corners, some even paid in advance to ensure secrecy.” He placed the tea cup on one of the vacant tables before looking out in the gardens again. “Except a few regulars like Kim Taehyung still hasn’t paid.”
“I told he already paid all his previous payments.” Jungkook shook his head, brows furrowing.
“What about the one the five days ago?”
The younger male had to connect the dots for a few seconds as his forehead knitted. “Five days ago? He’s been in rehab for almost a fortnight.”
Hoseok shook his head. “Doesn’t look like it’s working. I remember all my sells.” He rolled his eyes a little. “Well I kinda just give it to Taehyung instead of sell.”
“You do know I could kill you for doing things like that, right?” Anger bubbled right up to his throat except not directed towards Hoseok.
“Hey you’re the one who told me to give younger clients a break.” He defended.
“I know.” Jungkook had the strong urge to tell him that Taehyung already paid the biggest price of all strolling around the cherry blossoms. “Don’t sell it to him anymore.” He ordered simply.
“What?”
“If he asks again, send him to me. Don’t give him anything.” He seethed the last word spotting Belle now as a bright suited man walked up to her. It didn’t take long for him to recognize the familiar face even from this distance.
Hoseok stared at the male quizzically. No client ever received this kind of special treatment even to send some kind of a message. Hell if he wanted to send a message, Taehyung would have been dead in a ditch somewhere for police to scrap him off. Yet Jungkook wanted to keep the man alive for some reason. “Why—”
“Just…” Jungkook sighed trying to push his frustrations even though he wanted to explode right there and then. “…Just do as I say.” Eyes flickered back over to Belle again who was now conversing and smiling with the man causing a small twinge in his chest. “I’m trusting you to do this for me, Hobi. Alright?”
The older male still looked utterly confused but nodded nonetheless. “Of course, man. You’re the boss.” He pressed his lips together. “Now can you tell where they put the whiskey?”
Jungkook glanced around the party before leaning into him. “Ask the server with the blue flower on his breast pocket. They usually bring in secret batches for more important guests. The password is periwinkle.”
“Is that some kind of fancy slang for penis?” Hoseok winced.
He stammered already imagining Belles’ reaction to that statement being far more dramatic than his. “It’s a shade of—just go.” Jungkook couldn’t help but roll his eyes a little as the male rushed to find his source of sanctuary.
-
Boyoung was definitely on par with the seasoning of fashion since a garden party was the absolute perfect way to create inspiration for spring design. Granted this years’ line finished in its designing process, there was no reason not to take in the sheer amount of beauty. How ethereal would those peach blossoms look on a silk kimono or chrysanthemum detailing on a wedding dress. So many colours and designs all around her Belle had the strong urge to twirl like a little child in pure happiness.
But to keep up a decent appearance she merely smiled watching the cherry blossoms fall gracefully down to the ground. Hand held out the woman managed to have one land on her palm. That was when a voice spoke from behind her.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
She turned around to see a man with a wisteria shaded suit and a charming plump lipped smile. His chocolate brown hair parted to the side with eyes that expressed both kindness mixed into a little intimidation. “It is.” Belle smiled at the male before glancing back at the scenery again.
He took a small step forward. “I’m Kim Seokjin.” He stated holding his hand out which the woman accepted kindly after a moments’ hesitation. “The owner of the Sangria House.”
Belle only heard a few rumors about the Sangria House much like a person who evaluated life in a brothel based on assumptions and fiction stories. From what she knew, it had the mixture of a teahouse and a brothel but that was pretty much everything. Either way she smiled knowingly trying to be polite even though the girl had no intention in admiring a neatly dressed pimp too much. “Kim Belle. Nice to meet you.”
“With the murmurs I’m hearing, it seems Kim will be turning to Jeon very soon.” Seokjin smirked, glancing over his shoulder towards the flowing pixies all over the garden.
The woman tried to maintain the smile despite her prior momentary peace in the garden now being diminished. “Maybe not that soon.” She mumbled.
“Why do you say that?”
Her heart leaped slightly, the sudden urge to just spew out her whole situation in hopes that Seokjin would never be in her line of sight again. But the woman knew better to keep quiet especially since these attendees would probably not be that helpful nor would they find her ordeal abnormal. “I have a lot of other responsibilities right now.”
“Ah yes the new and coming designer for Saito.” Seokjin nodded, gaze lowered to his feet for a moment before looking over at her again.
Belle smiled politely feeling a sense of pride towards her workplace. Saitos’ outfits were rare so it was hard hearing about them from just anyone. Except from the way this man held himself and the reputation of the Sangria House, she knew Seokjin was not just anyone.
“You know, I had been wanting to order a few new dresses from Madame Saito as a refreshed décor for my angels.” Seokjins’ request lingered in the light breezy garden. “Maybe I could personally order you as my designer.”
A chill rushed down her spine either from the breeze or the fact he said ‘my designer’. Still the woman sighed lightly and smiled. The opportunity to create a contact was a literal dream come true. But the man did not know her designs nor did he see how she worked. Which gave the unsettling assumption that Seokjin was asking on his mere personal interest just by looking at and talking to her.
“Darling!”
Belle heard a familiar voice call out as a flash of white strolled towards the two of them. Immediately a more genuine smile tugged at her lips when Jungkook stood, arm gently wrapped around her waist.
“Mr. Jeon.”
“Mr. Kim.” Jungkook’s fingers gripped at her dress for a second before smoothing it down. “I hope you don’t mind if I whisk away my lady for a minute.” It wasn’t really a question from the sound of his tone and when he was already pulling her away.
“Think about my offer, Ms. Kim.” Seokjin smirked.
Belle could only get the chance to nod before she felt herself being led off towards the mansion.
-
“Bit of a rushed interaction.” Belle remarked as they walked into the majestic building Jeon Boyoung called her home. Instead of crème, the mansion adorned a dark wooden interior with antique hand-painted portraits of what she assumed were ancestors of the Jeon family including a modern one of Jungkooks’ extended family. The large painting was the first thing people saw when they walked in, Jungkooks’ aunt and father sitting on chairs while their spouses and children stood on the far ends.
She could easily see the mixture between Jungkooks’ parents from his mothers’ soft round eyes and small pouty lips to his fathers’ sharp jaw and intimidating brows.
“You looked like you needed a bit of rescuing.” Jungkook replied simply with a shrug following her gaze up to the portrait.
“Oh yeah he was definitely ‘talking’ me to death.” Sarcasm seeped through her tone as she walked forward towards the wide entry hall having the strong urge to scream and see if there was an echo.
“Believe me that’s his superpower.” He tried to explain as well as keeping up with her slightly excited exploration. “Seokjin got his company to the highest ranks of the elite through his eloquence. Hell he even convinced me to invest.”
“So you invest in brothels.” Belle turned around to face him now, not really caring what he did in his work since it all could be listed down into a category of inappropriate. “Did you get good discounts?”
Jungkook chuckled. “Sangria House is not just a brothel.”
“Yes yes don’t think a girl working alone in the city hasn’t heard that before on the streets.” She raised a brow. “Let me guess…it’s a respected establishment with highly trained employees who get paid a fair wage. Did I forget to mention the highest bidder gets to take away a novices’ virginity? And the fair wage only exists if you’re a full-fledged angel. Oh and they get to wear pretty dresses.” Belle gave him an advertisement happy smile before walking carefully backwards.
“You’re telling me you’ve been recruited into Sangria House before?”
Belle shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m sure every person who looked unemployed enough has.”
Jungkook kept glancing behind her to check if it was safe enough to be walking like that. “Guess fate wanted you to come to this place one way or another.” He smiled.
“Ah so you did get a few investor gifts.” She turned back around walking towards the flight of stairs. “What were they like?”
His eyes trailed down her body when she bounced up the stairs feeling a quick tremble. “I’ve experienced better.” Jungkook quickly caught up to the woman and grabbed onto her hand to keep her close to him for a few more moments.
Belle smirked up at him trying to back away cheekily before her back hit the wall. “I think he had a good offer.” She muttered averting her gaze a little.
“Really?” He tilted his head placing his palm on the wall next to her head. “Do you have to wear a pretty dress to come with it?”
She playfully slapped his chest. “Not that kind of offer.”
Jungkook couldn’t help but admire her every little movement as if he would lose her if he missed a second.
“He wants me to design some dresses for his angels.”
“Are you going to agree?”
Belle shrugged soothing the place she slapped lightly. “He’s ordered from Saitos’ before so—should be a good contact.”
Jungkook only hummed in response.
“What?” The corners of her lips curled up already sensing what made the man look so uncomfortable at the prospect.
“Nothing…”
“Alright, I’ll just go back and talk to him again.”
Before Belle could prance down the stairs, Jungkook hooked his arm around her waist and pressed her back against the wall. One free arm leaned next to her head while he leaned down with a small smirk. “Everyone’s been talking to you today.” He brushed away the loose hair from her face before his arm wrapped around her again, making sure no space escaped between their bodies. “Maybe I just want you to myself for a minute.”
“I am an independent woman, Mr. Jeon.” She teased with a faint smirk. “You’re going to have to ask nicely.”
Jungkook smiled as she played with his sharp collars. “May I—please have you all to myself for a minute, Ms. Kim?”
Belle hummed, taking her hat off and wrapping her arms around his neck. “Just for a minute.” She acknowledged in a whisper.
All he needed was her say and his lips magnetized onto hers, tasting the brownie she nibbled on earlier. Palms rubbed over the soft fabric of her blue dress to her bare arms and the back of her neck, sliding down to where he could feel the curve of her plush peach. Almost a week had passed since they last touched each other in this manner but Jungkook burned up so much, he could surpass a furnace. Kisses trailed down to her jawline.
Pausing on a soft patch of skin on her neck he bit onto it humming in satisfaction when she gasped lightly. Jungkook could listen to those sounds on a record player if he ever wanted to find peace when she was away. He couldn’t help her squeeze her whole body a little to ensure that this wasn’t all a dream. But the heat radiating together told no lie.
Soon frustration seeped in as the clothing around her felt too restricting causing his hand to sneak under the skirt of her dress. A satisfied sigh brushed against her lips feeling how warm her bare skin felt against his own almost lulling to a transient relaxation. Like nothing could go wrong at this moment.
“We can’t do that under a minute.” Belle giggled, noses nudging against each other as they intoxicated themselves in each other’s breathy laughter.
“I just missed touching you.” Jungkook whispered feeling his mind far too blurry to care about putting up a wall and sounded more calm about this situation. He loved feeling her against his skin. So much so that he had rub his hand up her hips, torso and breast after sneaking out of her skirt. Every crevice drove him insane.
Her core pooled at the firm brush against her body, lightly touching her nipple before he gently grabbed her by the neck. Eyes closed unable to focus on anything else in the hallway even if she tried, her lips practically parting on its own for Jungkooks’ tongue to explore her mouth once again.
“Jungkook! Belle! Aunt Boyoungs’ calling!”
Jungkook groaned under his throat making Belle chuckle at how desperate he got from a few naughty touches in their momentary privacy.
Fixing her dress to make it look proper again, the couple walked out holding hands towards the party with a new air of joy around them.
-
Patience had always been one of this strong suits. A trait many men of his stature lacked so when he excelled at it, respect for him shot up through the roof. So why was it that he could not keep his hands to himself whenever Belle so much as stood next to him? Merely a day passed since the garden party and Jungkook had already kissed every part of her face whenever he got his chance in the morning.
It didn’t help that the woman had a talent in noticing when someone was literally trembling to feel more of her. She got ready wearing nothing but a thin, satin robe causing her slightly plump thighs to peek out of the clothing. The man had to physically turn his head away so he could focus on putting his tie on without looking like a toddler doing it for the first time. Even then he still pecked her temple and cheek when he stood behind her.
Even when she finally left for her work, her small goodbye kiss lingered on his lips for most of the afternoon which meant he had to space out for a few seconds during meetings before finally answering any questions or making any demands.
Then a call rung in his phone while he sat in a car on his way for a check-in at the warehouse.
Hoseoks’ name appeared on the screen.
Heart sinking down to an abyss, Jungkook answered the phone. “What is it?”
A sigh passed from the other side of the phone. “He came back again. I’ve sent him to you now. He’s on the way to the mansion.” Hoseok sounded just about as helpless as Jungkook felt when the two quickly ended the call not wanting to waste any more time.
-
Postponing the check-in, the driver took him straight back to the mansion a little quicker than he was legally allowed to but they reached before Jungkook could groan in frustration. He wanted to get the whole situation over and done with. Dealing with client was already frustration as it were on a normal day but now more than ever he wished he didn’t throw away his pack of cigarettes already.
Not that it was his fault anyway since Taehyung decided to ruin the entire deal in less than a month.
Once inside the mansion Jungkook saw the hooded man on his knees with four guards surrounding him in front of the dormant fireplace. Shrugging off his blazer he slammed it down onto the floor before stomping over to him. He spotted the mans’ blood shot eyes and chapped lips, skin glistening in sweat. When he finally stood before him, a deafening silence lingered in the air.
This was what would have happened. Taehyung on his knees ready to accept his bloody fate for taking advantage of his long trained patience. The man had the shaking urge to continue with that plan. It almost worked until he remembered the soft linger on his lips again. “How long have you been taking it?” He asked in a grim tone.
Taehyung hung his head, lips pursing together.
“I asked you a question.” Jungkook spoke through gritted teeth, feeling his final nerve being tugged at.
“Couple of days.”
“A week is not a ‘couple of days’” His fingers curled up into tight fists. “And you had the gall to ask for more? Did you even finish it all?”
“I—I didn’t ask for that much.” His voice was meek under his breath.
Jungkook scoffed turning around for a moment to catch his fiery heaving. “You didn’t ask for that much.” He repeated the statement in his own mind and felt the lava flooding past his control. When it reached the peak of the volcano, one of his fists swung across Taehyung’s face, a crunch sound touching his ears.
The male cowered on the floor, hands over his nose as blood trickled through his fingers and his eyes looked more bloodshot than before.
“This isn’t a buy and sell anymore, Taehyung!” His voice echoed throughout the walls of the mansion. “Do you even realize your little sister lives here now? Because of you!” Jungkook spat watching Taehyung struggle to get himself back up again. “You think she’s here just so you can continue scrapping drugs for free?!”
“You’re the one who made the deal in the first place!” He shrieked through his hands.
Jungkook grabbed at his hair, forcing him to look up at the male. Blood drenched him from his nose down his neck but it only angered the man further. “I only made the deal because I thought you’d do anything to make sure your sister was safe. Even if it meant facing the real world without anything numbing you out.”
“Jungkook…” He heard a familiar murmur from behind him almost making his stomach jump up to his throat. Before he could turn back to see, the floral dressed figure already padded closer to the scene, eyes flooding with tears.
Despite the ache in his heart, the male still let go of Taehyung roughly to limp back onto the floor. “Tell her.” A growl sneaked within his voice. “I want you to tell her what you did.” He gestured towards the woman.
Belle hesitantly walked and knelt down in front of her brother as he tried to get up again. Her hands held onto his shoulders just until he was on his knees as well. A sob caught in her throat seeing the blood smeared on her older brothers’ face. His blood drenched hands attempted to hold her somehow but only ended up staining her skin and some of the lighter flowers on her black background dress. “What happened?” She whispered.
Taehyung lowered his head, biting down his bottom lip to conceal a small sob.
“Tae—” A little annoyance flew straight to her head thinning her patience to near nothingness but to be the cool headed one in the volcanic pit made from the living room, she kept her voice calm. “Tae, please answer me.”
“I couldn’t—” He sniffled, gripping onto her arms. “I couldn’t do it.”
She pressed her lips together as the tears jerked out of her, streaming down her light berry colored cheeks. Immediately the woman shook her head before wiping them away. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay.” Jungkook argued. “He had a responsibility.”
“And you made a promise.” Belle met his gaze with a subtle tremble in her tone, getting off the floor. “Addiction isn’t just going to go away.” Her voice rung soft in his ears as she padded closer to Jungkook instantly melting away most of his fury. “You could’ve done the absolute worst to me, it was still going to take time.”
His eyes twitched a little feeling the ache on his knuckles a little too prominently, desperately wishing he took a small puff of a cigarette prior to this meeting. Jungkook glared back at Taehyung who already looked like he was going to pass out from the one punch before he looked at Belle. Everything felt so much better in these few days. He saw her smiling more often and playing around that now watching her face drenched in tears and her neck streaked with blood made his chest clench in immense pain. “He’s going to stay here from now on.” He declared struggling to keep his voice steady. “We’ll have nurses and guards looking after him until he gets better. There’s no chance of him sneaking out anywhere.”
Belle watched the male gesture towards his guards who grabbed Taehyung firmly and led him towards another room through the hall next to the bar. Silence plunged back into the room as the woman tried to meet Jungkooks’ gaze again. Even if she tried to form them, no words managed come out of her. She did not know whether to be thankful or just more exhausted about this whole ordeal; the ring around her finger now felt heavier than ever.
Jungkook walked towards the bar. With a loud sigh, the male practically threw a glass onto the table before roughly pouring some golden liquid to the brim and taking a generous swig.
In small hesitant steps she stood behind the counter. Grabbing a cloth and drenching it under a tap, Belle wiped off any residue of blood on her neck and arm.
“How’re you so calm about this?” Jungkook asked solemnly.
Who knew that simple question could cause a thick lump in her throat. “I’m not calm.” Fresh tears gathered at the brim of her eyes while she cleaned out the towel again. “I’m just tired.” She sniffled feeling an invisible but heavy weight on her shoulders that she couldn’t get rid of even if she wanted to. “Really tired.”
Jungkook watched her from over his shoulder trying to drink another sip to get rid of that ache in his chest again. A few maids walked out of Taehyungs’ new room with some old sheets and bloody cloth, bowing to the two of them quickly before excusing themselves. Once the room only consisted of them, he pulled out another empty glass.
“I don’t drink.” Belle muttered, standing next to the male in front of the counter.
He turned back towards the small fridge behind them and reached inside for a plastic bottle with some red liquid inside. “You like cranberry juice?”
She nodded after a moment’s hesitation. The right corner of her lip twitched a little as Jungkook filled her glass up halfway. “Thank you.” She whispered, gently holding the crystal before taking a shy sip.
Jungkook sighed leaning on his elbows against the table, eyes scanning the now empty living room. “I’m really tired too.” He murmured. “It’s not really 9 to 5 job like it looks, you have to—mold it with your personal life and let it run you until finally…” He held up his glass. “This kills you… Fun old life, isn’t it? Violence, alcohol and—”
“Sex.”
“Not really getting much of that lately.”
“Don’t expect it tonight either.” Belle took a more generous sip. “Maybe next time beat people up in a warehouse like all the normal crime lords.” She gestured towards the empty space in the living room. “That was the second time.”
He looked at the empty space again with an added annoyance before hanging his head, scoffing. “You couldn’t have told me that earlier?”
She had a tiny smirk curled up her lips before leaning to press a warm kiss on his cheek. “That’s what you get for punching my brother.” She whispered. “Too bad though.” Belle looked down at her outfit. “I really wanted to show you something.”
Jungkooks’ eyes immediately trailed down her form again, fingers twitching. “Showing me something isn’t technically sex.”
“Nice try.” Belle patted his back before leaving him in own heated mess to go upstairs. “Good night, Mr. Jeon.”
Once again he was left watching the beauty walk away from him and all he could do was take in every inch of her body and every strand of her hair until it drove him mad. If the alcohol didn’t kill him, she might just.
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#5
Hello/Hallo! :] I am a native American-English speaker very new to the wonderful language that is Dutch (for context: I've been using Duolingo and watching videos from "Dutch and Go with Nout" on YouTube).
I have plans to move to Ghent, Flanders, Belgium (did I write that correctly?) in my future for my dream career, so I'd ideally like to familiarize myself with Flemish/Tussentaal right away—rather than learning "Dutch-Dutch/Dutch from the Netherlands" and then needing to adjust and relearn (or unlearn) some things once I move to Belgium.
If it isn't any trouble, do you mind me asking if you have any study tips or recommendations for me? Thank you in advance!
Hi! You absolutely did write that correctly: Ghent is the English name, in Dutch it’s called Gent. I’d say the biggest differences between Dutch and Flemish are 1) the accent/pronunciation 2) vocabulary. Grammar-wise you can just rely on sources that teach standard Dutch, except maybe when it comes to the pronoun “gij”, which is very formal in the Netherlands but used all the time in informal conversations in Belgium. 
As for the accent/pronunciation: here are a few things that are different in Belgium
Dutch people tend to make diphtongs out of pretty much every vowel. In Flemish we only have three diphtongs: au/ou, ij/ei, eu.
There is a Dutch way to pronounce the g and there are two Flemish ways. The first way is common in Antwerp, Limburg and Brabant (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Voiced_velar_fricative), the second is common in the Flemish dialects (see below) and basically means you pronounce the g as an h.
Our r’s are different (https://nl.wikipedia.org/wiki/Uitspraak_van_de_r_in_het_Nederlands): in the Netherlands it’s very similar to English, aka you barely even pronounce them (the second one on the wiki list). In Belgium there are people who have French r’s (the fourth one on the wiki list), but as you can see the first and fifth one can also be heard in Belgium. So you can pick your r!
Because you want to move to Ghent specifically I’d recommend you look up the characteristics for Flemish dialects*, and spefically for dialects from Oost-Vlaanderen. This site seems a good starting point, but it’s in Dutch and if you’re a beginner it might be hard to understand... Note that I speak of dialects here but that in practice, people rarely speak dialects out of their friend group and family (if they even speak a dialect at all). Most people still have regional accents though (e.g. a characteristic of dialects of West-Vlaanderen is that the “g” is pronounced as an “h”, this is also spreading to Ghent) and you might run into a dialectic word or two. So to sum it up: focus on recognizing local sounds and frequent dialectic words. Dutch Wikipedia has this fun list of Ghentish words and expressions, although it doesn’t really distinguish between frequent and rare ones: https://nl.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lijst_van_Gentse_woorden_en_uitdrukkingen
As for the vocabulary: there are quite a few words in standard Dutch that Flemish people just don’t use, and some words that have a different meaning in Flemish than in standard Dutch. I’ve listed a few here and here is another one. The second one has a few words with different meanings in standard Dutch and Flemish but it only gives the “translation”, not the different meanin. E.g. “inslapen” is translated as “de slaap vatten” in Flemish (which in se isn’t even very good, we’d rather say “in slaap vallen”) but “inslapen” is also used in Flemish: it means “to die gently”, “laten inslapen” means “to euthanise”. There are quite a few lists like these on the internet because, well, it’s kinda funny sometimes.
Generally, I’d recommend you to consume Flemish media, whether it’s YouTube, podcasts, tv, radio, texts or something else. Immersion always helps me to get familiar with the language. I am yet to find the first learning tool specifically meant to teach Flemish to non-natives, so sadly I cannot redirect you to a book or a class. I still hope this helped and if you have any more questions you can always send an ask or message me!
*This is very confusing but the word “Flemish” basically has two meanings: 
1) group of dialects spoken (more or less) in the ancient county of Flanders (aka French-Flanders  (FR), Zeeuws-Vlaanderen (NL) West-Vlaanderen and Oost-Vlaanderen) 
2) language variant spoken in the region of Flanders (aka the Belgian provinces of Oost-Vlaanderen, West-Vlaanderen, Vlaams-Brabant, Limburg and Antwerp) and Brussels.
57 notes • Posted 2021-03-23 13:55:12 GMT
#4
i wanna know what bernie’s favorite bernie meme is
61 notes • Posted 2021-01-22 09:59:05 GMT
#3
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Today on Bad Takes I Saw On Tumblr
62 notes • Posted 2021-04-06 07:06:59 GMT
#2
I don’t get why companies that make tampons and pads and stuff always make commercials like “I can do anything with this pad! Life is great!” like there’s blood coming out of my vagina I’m gonna be uncomfortable no matter what don’t you employ period-having people who can tell you this
73 notes • Posted 2021-03-15 18:37:06 GMT
#1
Fun fact: the Dutch word for mushroom literally translates to toad chair
271 notes • Posted 2021-07-01 08:43:46 GMT
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dwellordream · 2 years
Text
“…The ideas that animate Harlequin romance novels, Game of Thrones, and Disney movies alike can be traced back to the nineteenth century. Look at the paintings of the Pre-Raphaelites and others influenced by them—works like John William Waterhouse’s “Lady of Shalott” (1888) and Frederic William Burton’s “The Meeting on the Turret Stairs” (1864)—and you’ll see some very familiar figures.
These canvases reflect popular Victorian understandings of medieval ladies: passive, slender, aristocratic, the objects of knightly devotion. These women have never laboured in the fields with sunburned necks or callused hands. Their clothing and flowing hairstyles are eclectic, designed more to make nineteenth-century audiences think about a distant, misty, heroic past than to accurately reproduce any given moment in the Middle Ages. And, they are, invariably, white.
Art doesn’t exist in a vacuum. These paintings were produced when European imperialism was at its zenith; when Darwinian theories of evolution were twisted to justify colonialism and social hierarchies based on race; and when a supposed early-medieval “Teutonic”—or Germanic—ancestry for the white Protestant populations of Britain and North America was claimed to be the reason for the explosive economic growth of those regions.
They were also painted at the same time that white people in Europe and the Americas were enjoying steadily increasing standards of living—in large part thanks to the backbreaking, and often coerced, labour of those in colonised places. Black and brown women helped to shape history, but Victorian society excluded them from the category of “lady” because of the colour of their skin.
Nineteenth-century thinkers drew on the medieval past in order to justify racial and class inequities, or burgeoning notions of nationalism. These thinkers racialised the medieval lady. They idealised her as white, passive, and unsuited to manual labour. In doing so, they made her into a rationale as to why her elite, white, female descendants could sip tea in parlours while brown and black women toiled in the fields—or in their houses—to bring them that tea. The status quo was given such a venerable heritage that it was made to seem natural, even inevitable. Such ideas were then, and are now, pervasive and insidious. They were absorbed by white women, by Disney animators, by the makers of Halloween costumes, and even by those who write histories.
But what happens if we take the medieval lady off her pedestal? What kind of woman do we see inhabiting the Middle Ages if we try to peel off the Victorian veneer of chivalry and politesse? Does looking at what medieval people actually did in the past tell us something about our own assumptions concerning race and gender? In part, this is a process where we have to reconsider the language we use. What do we mean by “lady”? What did medieval people mean by the term? Or, rather, since most texts produced in western Europe in the Middle Ages were written in Latin, what were the connotations which they associated with the word domina?
The first key difference is that the modern English word “lady” simply doesn’t have the aura of power which the Latin word domina did in the Middle Ages. A domina was a woman with authority and moral rectitude in her own right, not simply the consort or complement to a dominus (lord). A domina (and holders of other Latin titles applied to women in medieval records, like comitissa, vicedomina or legedocta) administered estates and adjudicated legal disputes. It did not matter whether she held her title by inheritance or through marriage. Those who held titles in their own right, or those who were widowed, could exercise significant power over fiefs and vassals.
For example, when Matilda, countess of Tuscany (1046-1115), was referred to as domina, it was because she controlled a large swathe of northern Italy. She was the mediator during the famous meeting between Pope Gregory VII and the German emperor Henry IV at her great fortress of Canossa. In doing so, she influenced the outcome of a major medieval power struggle. On his accession to the throne in 1199, King John of England installed his mother Eleanor of Aquitaine (ca. 1122-1204), as domina of the French territory of Poitou and gave her authority in all of his lands—a tacit acknowledgement of her political skill.
Eleanor even managed to expand queenly authority in some ways. She seems to be the first queen of England after the Norman Conquest to have regularly collected the “queen’s gold”, a one-tenth share of some of the legal fines paid to the king. This gave her a valuable (and somewhat independent) source of revenue—and with money comes power. As a more modest example, one contemporary of Matilda of Tuscany’s was a woman named Mahild of Alluyes, domina of a far smaller territory in northern France. She wasn’t a player in papal or imperial politics. Yet as wife and widow, she oversaw the affairs of her vassals and witnessed charters which they drew up in the chapter house of the nearby abbey of Marmoutier, which gave her considerable influence over their lives. And there are many, many more dominae in the sources.
Medieval aristocratic women were sometimes seen as passive by their male contemporaries; those with power who broke this mould were sometimes described in plainly misogynistic terms. But equally, their deeds could be lauded. For example, one of the great chroniclers of the early twelfth century, the Anglo-Norman Orderic Vitalis, wrote that the French noblewoman Isabel of Conches was “lovable and estimable to those around her.” He complimentarily said that she “rode armed as a knight among the knights”, and compared her favourably with Amazon queens.
Matilda of Boulogne (ca. 1105-1152), queen of King Stephen of England, was one of her husband’s most capable partisans during the Anarchy—the period of civil war that tore twelfth-century England apart. Not only did she head the government during her husband’s captivity, but proved herself a capable military commander. She directed troops into battle at the so-called Rout of Winchester and arranged for her husband’s release when he was captured.
A generation or so later, the English countess Petronella of Leicester (ca. 1145-1212) participated alongside her husband in the Revolt of 1173-74; she gave her husband military advice, rode armed onto the battlefield, and was even wearing armour when captured. These actions may not have been normal behaviour for a domina—administration and adjudication were more usual. But they were still within the bounds of possible behaviour for a medieval woman without endangering her status as a “lady.”
The Matildas, Mahild, Eleanor, Isabel, and Petronella: it is hard to imagine any of these dominae as the subject of a Waterhouse painting or the centrepiece of a Disney movie. They weren’t always victorious or virtuous; they could be ambitious and high-handed and hold ideas which most people today would find distasteful. And yet, whether medieval chroniclers approved or disapproved of these women individually, they didn’t think the very fact that they were active, decisive, and opinionated was out of the ordinary. Neither should you.
Nor would the colour of their skin have been thought a defining aspect of their status as a lady. There was certainly prejudice about skin colour in the Middle Ages. The relatively small number of non-white people in northern Europe means that we can’t definitively point to a woman of colour exercising political power there. But things were slightly different in southern Europe, in areas like Iberia—modern Spain and Portugal—which was long home to Christian, Jewish, and Muslim populations of multi-ethnic heritage.
While there were religious prohibitions against Muslim women marrying non-Muslim men, there are some scattered examples of intermarriages between dynasties in the early Middle Ages: Muslim women of north African or Arab descent marrying into northern, Christian royal families. For instance, Uriyah, a daughter of the prominent Banū Qasī dynasty, married a son of the king of the northern Spanish kingdom of Navarre; Fruela II, king of Asturias, married another Banū Qasī woman called Urraca. Their ancestry doesn’t seem to have posed a barrier.
Western Europeans may have only rarely had direct contact with non-white female rulers further afield—like the powerful Arwa bint Asma, queen of Yemen (r. 1067-1138)—but when they did, it could be in dramatic fashion. Shajar al-Durr, sultana of Egypt (d. 1257), famously captured Louis IX of France during the Seventh Crusade and ransomed him for an eye-wateringly large sum.
While historical examples of women of colour exercising prominent roles in Europe during the Middle Ages are few in number, skin colour didn’t limit the imaginations of white medieval Europeans. Medieval people often had clear anxieties about skin colour and blackness, but despite this racism they could still envision a brown- or black-skinned woman as a member of the upper classes, just as they did the white-skinned Mahild or Isabel.
For example, the early thirteenth-century German epic poem Parzival centres on the eponymous hero and his quest for the Holy Grail. Parzival has a half-brother, the knight Feirefiz, who is mixed-race. His mother, Belacane, is the black queen of the fictional African kingdoms of Zazamanc and Azagouc; the narrative praises her beauty and her regal bearing. As another example, a Middle Dutch poem written about the same time, Morien, recounts the story of the handsome, noble knight Morien, “black of face and of limb,” whose father Sir Aglovale fell in love with his “lady mother,” a Moorish princess.
However, the most vivid example is provided by medieval depictions of the biblical Queen of Sheba. Scholars think the historical Sheba likely lay somewhere in southwestern Arabia; other traditions place the kingdom in east Africa. Regardless of the queen’s historicity, various traditions grew up around her in the Middle Ages. Some of the most popular of these claimed that she had a son by the biblical king Solomon. She frequently appears alongside him in art, in elegantly draped garb as on the late twelfth-century Verdun Altar, or accompanied by courtiers as in an early fourteenth-century German illustrated bible: a beautiful black woman and a regal queen. When you think of a medieval “lady”—you could do worse than to think of her.
All of this should prompt us to look again, to reconsider how racialized Victorian ideals of womanhood still impact us—both in contemporary popular culture and also in our understandings of the medieval past. When we think about the Middle Ages, we should consider the impact of race, and especially whiteness, on how we think about it. That is not necessarily because our medieval forebears did so, but because our nineteenth- and early twentieth-century ones did so very much.
The idea of the “lady” was one of the useful fictions which they and others employed, glorifying white, upper-class womanhood as an apex of western achievement. This helped to make existing racial and imperial hierarchies seem like they had such a long history that they must be innate, biological: a simple fact of life. But it was a fiction, and a harmful one. If we are to better understand the medieval past, it is one we must set aside.”
- Yvonne Seale, “My Fair Lady? How We Think About Medieval Women.”
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Answer Me This
AU: Soulmate
Words: 1875
Pairing: KakaYama
Warnings: None
Summary: Ever since he was young, Tenzo wandered about the mark on his chest. Now that he’s a bit older, with a lot less going on in his life to distract him, he decides to seek some answers from a trusted source.
For: My Kakayama loving followers definitely XD
Ever since he was a child Yamato had wondered about the mark on his chest. Once, when he was still young and naive, he had asked Danzo about it, hoping to find the answer he had been searching for since the first time he saw it in the mirror.
The only response he got was a gentle reminder of his job. That things such as the mark on his chest were of no importance and were best forgotten.
So he forgot about it. Focused his attention on his training and missions instead, only really remembering it during the odd time he’d see it in the mirror again. For years he was fine with that. Danzo always had more than enough work for him to do to keep his mind from wandering back to the mark, and even after he had left Root and joined Kakashi-senpai on Team Ro he was always busy.
Doing missions, training with his new team. All of it kept his mind off of the mark.
Until the day that Tsunade-sama finally pulled him out of Anbu.
I want you to lead Team Kakashi on their next mission.
Her words echoed in his mind whenever he was forced to deal with Naruto’s insubordinate attitude. Even at his worst though, Naruto wasn’t as distracting as back-to-back missions and training.
Now that he was a part of Team Kakashi, Yamato had time to think. To dwell on the things that he had ignored for years. The foods that he liked, the things he wanted to do during his time off, and the mark.
The one that kept staring at him in the mirror every morning after his shower. Sitting right over his heart.
Eight little paw prints starting at his collar bone and running all the way down to the center of his chest where a little scarecrow sat. Somewhere, deep inside of his brain, he knew the answer should be obvious. It just wasn’t coming to him for some reason, no matter how hard to search for the answer.
Now, sitting beside Gai in the training field watching as his Senpai set Naruto, Sakura, and Sai up for a spar against each other. He wondered to himself if it was alright to ask someone else.
If he was finally allowed an answer to the question he had refused to ask again for years.
“You seem like you have a lot on your mind,” Gai’s voice dragged him out of his thoughts, a bright smile greeting him when he glanced towards the older man. “What are you thinking so hard about? Surely it’s not the training Kakashi’s doing with his team. I know his methods don’t always seem the most proper, but they’re quite effective in the long run.”
Yamato couldn’t help but laugh. If there was anyone in the world who knew Kakashi’s training methods and just how interesting they could get, it was him. Years of being on the same team had introduced him to a variety of ideas Kakashi came up with to improve their skills, and not one of those ideas could be considered standard or even safe some days.
“No,” glancing towards the team, he smiled slightly. “I was actually thinking about something else. Something you might be able to help me with.” If there was anyone who could answer his question, it was Gai. Not only did he have a wealth of information, some of it from speaking to Kakashi a lot over the years, but he was also emotionally open and present. Regardless of what the question was, he’d be willing to answer it. “I was wondering...Well, when I was younger I noticed something on my chest. It’s not a scar, and I don’t think it could be considered a birthmark either, but I’m not really sure what it is.”
“Oh!” Gai’s eyes widened, a look of shock taking over his face momentarily before softening into a much more familiar smile. “You must be talking about your soulmate mark.”
“Soulmate mark?” Over the years he had heard whispers of such things. People huddling up close to show off a mark on their body to their friends and whispered guesses of who it could belong to. Never wanting to distract himself, he had left them alone to have their fun. But now that he thought about it he had always wondered if the mark could be representing someone.
As his mind started to wander, so did his eyes. Scanning towards the middle of the field, they lingered on his Senpai. Patient, kind, protective. Kakashi had been there for him since they were both kids. A small hint of light in a pitch-black world.
“It’s a mark that everyone has. A depiction of who your soulmate is in pictures or words. Something that’s supposed to give you a hint of the person you’re soul is joined to, without flat out telling you who it is,” Gai explained, his smile never leaving his face. “What does it look like? I mean, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, of course. I was just thinking that if you only asked about this now perhaps you haven’t put too much thought into who it could represent.” He trailed off.
“Who-” his mind started racing. Trying to figure out who was supposed to be represented by the marks on his chest. No matter how hard he tried to think, though, only one answer came to mind. “-What if...I mean, if the person who it r-represents...what if they don’t want-”
Gai’s laughter cut off the rest of his sentence. Loud enough that he could feel all of Team Kakashi’s eyes on them suddenly. The kids probably wondering what was going on, and Kakashi-senpai was no doubt already making plans to interrupt.
If he was going to show Gai the mark, he had to do it fast. Before his Senpai showed up to interrupt them.
“Here,” turning to face Gai, he unzipped his Chunin vest and lifted his shirt so that Gai could get a good look at the mark. “I don’t know what it means. I mean, I have an idea but…”
“Oh,” Gai’s eyes widened after a moment. “Yamato, this is…”
“What’s going on here?” Shoving his shirt back down, Yamato turned to glare at the silver-haired man who had just appeared at his side without any warning. “What? Surely you’re not doing anything I shouldn’t be a part of. You wouldn’t leave me out of the fun, would you Tenzo?”
“It’s none of your business, Senpai,” he huffed after turning his gaze away from the older man. “Shouldn’t you be watching over Team Kakashi’s training?”
“They’re not going to kill each other if I look away for five seconds.” Ass if on cue, Naruto went flying past them. Sakura’s voice following shortly behind with an angry threat to his health if he ever repeated his last sentence. “Ok, they might kill each other, but it’s good for training.”
Good training.
Right.
“Anyways, you were showing Gai something,” Kakashi continued as if his student hadn’t just been punched through the air. “What was it?”
“None of you busi-”
“He was showing me his soulmate mark,” The sudden weight of the world came down on Tenzo’s shoulders. Of all the people to betray him in such an important moment, he had trusted Gai. “It’s really cute. It even has a scarecrow on it.”
“A scarecrow?” Peering up at Kakashi, Tenzo huffed when he saw him raise an eyebrow. “Is that why Shisui’s crows don’t like you?”
At this moment, Tenzo really hoped Shisui didn’t come bounding out of the trees to continue a rather terrible joke. The last thing he needed was those two going back and forth trying to outdo each other in the terrible humour department. He’d be here all day if they got started.
“Can I see it?” Kakashi’s question caught him off guard. He had barely wanted to show the soulmate mark to Gai, and now Kakashi wanted to see it? The one person his heart told him to hide it away from no matter what? “Come on, Tenzo. I won’t make fun of it. I promise.”
Curling his fingers into the bottom of his uniform shirt, he sighed. “Fine,” he whispered, finally meeting the other man’s eyes again. “But if you make one joke about it I’m going to”
“-not talk to me for the rest of the month. Yeah, I know.”
Huffing, Tenzo pulled his shirt up once more and watched as both Kakashi and Gai peered at the mark there on his chest. It was a little embarrassing sitting there and being stared at like that, especially when Gai reached out to touch his skin.
“I told you it was cute. The little paw prints leading to a scarecrow. You know, it sort of make’s me think of the hounds.” Tenzo felt his stomach drop. Suddenly it all made sense. The reason he could only think of one person when Gai asked him who his mark was supposed to represent, was because it was meant to lead him to that person. His soul mate was-
“Well, I think that’s enough slacking,” Kakashi straightened himself up suddenly and turned his back to the pair. “I should go check on the team. Make sure Sakura hasn’t actually broken all of Naruto’s bones.”
And with that, he was gone. Nothing but a puff of smoke left where he had just been standing moments ago.
“I-” He tried.
“Don’t worry about it,” glancing back at Gai, Yamato opened his mouth to say something. Unfortunately, words seemed to fail him at that moment. “Kakashi’s always like this when he has to deal with emotions. I’m sure you know that as well as I do.”
Yamato couldn’t deny it. In all the years he had known Kakashi, one thing was painfully obvious. The Copy Ninja would do anything he could to avoid having to deal with emotions until they became too much for him to ignore any longer.
Still, it didn’t leave him with a good feeling.
Now that he knew what his mark was, and who it was meant to be, he was left to sort all of the emotions that came with that revelation on his own. The only thing that he could hope for, was that Kakashi wouldn’t reject him.
“He’s not leaving you behind,” Gai’s words caught him off guard, pulling his attention back to the conversation in front of him. “I know what you’re thinking. Kakashi is hard to read sometimes, and it always sucks when he shuts us out and tries to figure things out on his own.” That was certainly true. Tenzo had always wished his Senpai would open up to him a bit more. Let him help where he could. “He’ll get there, Yamato. Just give him some time.”
Some time.
He could do that. It wasn’t like they didn’t have a lot on their plates to deal with right now anyways.
“Thank you, Gai,” Giving the other man his best smile, he stared at Kakashi in the distance. Watching as he separated Sakura and Sai from a verbal argument. “I’m glad to have you as a friend.”
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supersilversleuth · 2 years
Text
I Know You Won’t Believe Me (But Sometimes I wish You Would) by SuperSilverSpy
Fandoms: DCU, DCU (Comics), Batman - All Media Types  
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Category: Gen
Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Roman Sionis, Hurt Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson-centric, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson Whump, Whump, Whumptober 2021, Angst, Dick Grayson DID NOT fake his Death, I know I’m not really touching on it in this fic, but it’s important I say that, Post-Spyral, Miscommunication, Betrayal, I mean, Perceived Betrayal, SuperSilverSpy, SilverGrayson, SilverWhump, Protective Dick Grayson, injuries
Summary:
“Wha—Where am I? What do you want?” He asked, pretending to be groggy from waking up.
“Well, Officer Grayson, you are the Red Hood’s dirty pig informant, so I’m betting there’s a lot I can get out of you.”
Dick resisted the urge to laugh, or explain himself. There wasn’t much to explain anyway, not without revealing secrets that he would rather die protecting. Instead, he forced his expression into something more like shock, and resignation, deciding to play this role to the end. He could feel the instincts of manipulation and deception settling back over him like a very familiar blanket. Playing spy for a while had given him the opportunity to hone those skills. If there was any beneficial thing that could be taken away from that whole experience, it was what good he could now do with the abilities he’d enhanced during that time.
OR Dick is forced to pretend to betray Jason in order to protect the Red Hood’s identity
No. 5 - I’VE GOT RED IN MY LEDGER betrayal | misunderstanding | broken nose
Part 5 of 2021 Most Whumperful Time of the Year - Dick Grayson-centric
Language: English Words: 3,462 Chapters: 1/1 
Dick was tracking down a lead in the northern part of Blüdhaven, snooping around in various warehouses. It was the part of Blüdhaven that was closest to Gotham, so really Dick should’ve known better than to think his day would be uneventful.
 As it was, he was surprised by the sight of the Red Hood tying up the exact criminals Dick was looking for.
 Jason had tensed, glancing up, hand going for his gun—when Dick pushed the creaky warehouse door open to take a peek inside—and then, when Jason realized who it was, the hand went away from the gun, and the eyes away from Dick, but the tension remained. Jason continued about, tying the criminals up, studiously ignoring Dick’s presence as he did so.
 “Hood—” Dick started.
 “I’m just finishing up, Officer ,” he said mockingly, “They’re all yours when I’m done.”
 “I—They’re Black Mask’s people, do you have any intel about what they’re doing in my city?” “Not much,” replied Jason, tone clipped. “You?” “I have a little, maybe we could arrange a time to go over it? This case is clearly turning out to be a problem for both of us—”
 “Nope, that’s not how it works,” Jason cut him off, “You haven’t been forgiven for your last f*** up yet. Maybe we can trade information later, if I ever decide to trust you again.” Dick winced, stepping back. “Well, I’ll be out of your hair then, Hood. I’ll have some people come this way to put these criminals back where they belong.” “Where they belong is a big, ugly a** community grave,” Dick heard Jason mutter behind him just as he walked out the door.
-- A few days after the Hood incident, Dick was heading home after a long day of writing reports and studying casefiles. Being a detective was certainly not all excitement 24/7. Most of the time he was sitting around, wishing for more time in the field.
That particular day, he was distracted, thinking about a very complicated case that had been stumping him for longer than he’d like. He should’ve known better than to take that route home, though it probably wouldn’t have mattered—whoever wanted him was professional enough to have all the streets around the precinct covered.
 Ah, chloroform, he didn’t miss it. It’d been a while since he’d last had it pressed against his face. He supposed he was due for a run in with the stuff. The chloroform appeared at the same time as the wrenching of his arms behind his back, and the restraining of his legs. Dick tried not to fight  too  hard, he was still Detective Grayson, a civilian by vigilante standards, afterall. He had to keep up appearances. For that reason, he also pretended to fall unconscious long before he actually did. He’d built up an immunity to the drug of course, but that could only work with him as Nightwing.
 When Dick woke up, he found himself face to face with Black Mask. The man sat behind a desk, with Dick, sitting, bound to a chair in front of him. With a start, Dick realized that Roman must’ve been watching him while he was unconscious. Dick suppressed a shudder. 
 “Wha—Where am I? What do you want?” He asked, pretending to be groggy from waking up.
 “Well, Officer Grayson, you are the Red Hood’s dirty pig informant, so I’m betting there’s a lot I can get out of you.”
Dick resisted the urge to laugh, or explain himself. There wasn’t much to explain anyway, not without revealing secrets that he would rather die protecting. Instead, he forced his expression into something more like shock, and resignation, deciding to play this role to the end. He could feel the instincts of manipulation and deception settling back over him like a very familiar blanket. Playing spy for a while had given him the opportunity to hone those skills. If there was any beneficial thing that could be taken away from that whole experience, it was what good he could now do with the abilities he’d enhanced during that time.
 “I don’t know who the f*** that is,” Dick said, thinking about the actions of several of his coworkers for reference on how to act like a dirty cop.
 “Don’t lie to me,” snarled Roman. “My people know you spoke with him at the last operation of mine that he busted.”
 Ah, so that’s how he knew. One of the thugs must not have been fully unconscious during Dick’s conversation with Jason the other day.
 “Look man, I’m just his source guy sometimes, and he doesn’t even like me very much lately. So I don’t know what to tell you. Just let me go, and we can call it a day.” Dick made himself fidget, as if he was nervous about the threatening crime boss sitting across from him.
 “So what? You don’t have anything for me? Maybe I should just torture you until you die, how about that?”
 “N—No,” Dick made himself stutter, “I—I can still help you...for a price.”
 “Even now, you argue for your checkbook,” Roman chuckled, “The world goes ‘round, and dirty cops never change.”
 “What can I say,” Dick smirked, “The Hood didn’t pay me enough. I’m sure  you’ll be different…”
 Roman smiled at him, a dangerous smile that said he couldn’t wait to use him up and leave his body in a ditch.
 Dick smiled back.
--
Jason got an alert that the alarms at one of his safehouses had been tripped. It wasn’t one of his favorite safehouses or anything—in fact, it was due for a restock, but he knew it would be better to check it out as soon as he could anyway.
 He swung through the air, making his way through Crime Alley to where he knew the safehouse to be. Any intruders in his territory would be dealt with, crappy safehouse or not. 
 He found that much of his security system had been quietly disabled…except for a single, simple sensor. Whoever did this wanted him to come here.
 The door to his safehouse was ajar, and Jason carefully pushed it open, peering through the crack.
 His lights were on, and there were the sounds of ransacking and breaking glass.
 Jason grabbed the guns from his hips, and slammed open the door.
 There stood Dick, out of uniform, surrounded by several of Black Mask‘s people. 
 Jason snarled at the sight, thoughts of the man’s betrayal swirling through his mind. 
 Dick’s eyes widened, shooting a pleading look at him as if trying to convey something. Jason ignored it in his anger.
 “Let’s go! He’s here!” yelled Dick.
 “Traitor.” He growled darkly.
 Something flickered in the traitor’s expression, before smoothing out as if it had never been there.
 Jason didn’t think. He just lifted his guns, and fired.
 Unfortunately, they were rubber bullets, and he’s pretty sure he only managed to clip the lying b****** in the leg.
 He did manage to take down at least three of the others before the rest escaped quickly through the window.
--
“So, I guess Hoodie really isn’t on your side after all,” said Roman, pacing.
“I—I don’t understand what happened,” Dick sputtered, feigning fear, “I disabled all of his security, he wasn’t supposed to show.”
 “That’s because I had one of my people purposely sabotage you. I needed to make sure you weren’t still on his side. This,” he said, putting his hand on Dick’s leg where the bullet hit him, “is the proof I was looking for.” He pressed down, Dick gasped as if in pain. It really didn’t feel nice.
 “W—What?” He said in indignation, “Of course I’m on your side, that guy hates me.”
 “So I’m told.” Roman said, uncaring. He dug his fingers in.
 “Stop!” Dick strained against the ropes binding his hands behind the chair.
 The man let up, briefly, “You got the package I sent you to get?” 
 He was referring to the fake intel Dick had promised was stashed in Hood’s safehouse, intel that he had planted while no one was looking. The moment Roman plugged that thing in, Oracle would have complete access to all of the crime boss’s servers. “Yes, of course! Don’t forget to plug it into a high powered computer, I’m sure it’ll require a lot of decryption…”
 Roman waved his hand, “Yeah, yeah, whatever, my people have it covered.”
 “I’d like my payment now,” Dick said, glaring at him.
 The man grinned malevolently, “You’ll get your payment, when I let you go and the Hood goes after you. The people he captured have  quite  the story to tell.” 
 Dick slid a look of fear onto his face.
--
Jason didn't even give him the chance to explain.
Not that Dick was surprised about this, of course, but that doesn't mean it didn't hurt.
Roman had released him onto Gotham's streets, and sent several of his people to tail him.  Dick of course, was not supposed to know about that particular detail, but it's not like the low-level thugs had any actual expertise when it came to anything, least of all properly tailing a person.
Ah, so this was one more test, to confirm that he was truly against the Hood, before Roman dared plug in the USB. So it was best that Jason's first reaction upon seeing him was to lash out anyway, and Dick didn't even get a moment to get a word in before Hood was slamming him into the ground.
Well, it seemed these days the only reliable fact was that his family no longer trusted him. It was a good thing he needed Jason to beat him up for the operation, then. Internally, Dick sighed, he wished it didn't have to be like this. He hated lying, detested spying, but he'd learned long ago that sometimes there's no time for debate, and often the situation called for the best solution, not necessarily a good one.
Jason always acted on his emotions, it was something about him that never changed. It was reliable qualities like that, that Dick had been trained to notice, to exploit when needed. Dick did what he had to do, Jason did what he wanted to do. Many times, Dick had had to shoulder the burden of doing what was needed, even if it hurt those around him. He would gladly carry these responsibilities for the rest of his life, if only his siblings didn't have to, if only his family  lived.
And so, Officer Grayson fought with the Red Hood in a back alleyway as the man spewed curses about him and how he couldn't trust someone who'd betray him just to meet their own ends and not even think to tell him about the undercover op—
Dick, of course, was still being watched. So he fought like a random inexperienced police officer, not like Nightwing, professional vigilante. 
Jason didn't seem to notice. 
"Is this the new you then? Huh? You stab us in the back at every chance you get, all for a supposed “mission”? Is this Dick the spy then? Is that who you are now?"
Dick dodged a fist, got kicked in the knee.  It’s probably just the pit rage,  he reminded himself,  another thing I can count on.
"You know, I didn't think you of all people would pull something like this the first time, I don't know why I didn't see it with this one, you'd think I'd have learned my lesson by now."
Jason punched him in the stomach, causing him to sink further to the ground.
"I don't even know if I'd grieve again, if I found out you were dead. How would I know it wasn't just another lie that you failed to mention to me?"
Dick was just glad his tails were too far away to hear what Jason was saying.
"Do you have any idea what Black Mask is capable of? Have you  forgotten  who the f*** he  is  ? You can't just go undercover to work with him against  me, without telling me!"
His little brother sounded so upset, Dick only wished he had time to explain.
"Whatever happened to communication? Is that a foreign concept to you  spies? And here I thought we were actually family."
Jason headbutted him right in the face, breaking what Dick was pretty sure was his nose. He could feel the sticky warmth of blood on his face, flowing over his lips, past his chin to drip to the ground. Dick's vision blurred, and he collapsed to the ground, curling in on himself, he had to play it up, afterall. Even though the wounds inflicted were mostly just surface ones. They had an audience, and Dick could not fail to perform.
Above him, Jason scoffed, as if he could see through Dick's pretending. Still though, DIck could see his hands shaking, could see as the pent up energy within his little brother's body drained, tension leaving his shoulders. In a moment, Jason was gone, and Dick closed his eyes, giving into the exhaustion of having had to pretend to be someone he wasn't under very stressful circumstances for the past few days. It was alright, nothing...Dick...couldn't handle...
--
Jason felt drained. He hadn't felt that angry since well...the last time Goldie had pulled something like this.
The feeling of Dick’s face against his fist was quite familiar by this point. Each time he’d done it blurred together, echoing in his mind as green tinted his vision.
Jason made it back to one of his safehouses, somehow. He wasn’t sure when he got there, or how, but when he finally came back to himself, it was to the sight of a familiar kitchenette.
He felt too restless to sleep, but too exhausted to do anything productive at the same time. He didn’t trust himself to go out as Red Hood. In this state, he was a danger to anyone around him.
Jason’s mind raced, even as his body collapsed on the couch. He turned the tv on, letting himself get lost in some random sitcom.
He needed to calm down, probably do something like think things through. Though Jason knew that he was most likely going to just go about his day tomorrow, as if today hadn’t happened.
Always running away, still that same self-preserving street kid who only knew how to survive. Well, it’d worked for him so far, minus the dying part of course.
Hours later, technically into the next morning, Jason’s comm beeped. What could Barbie possibly want at this time of morning? Not even villains were awake at 6:00am, usually this hour was sacred.
“Hood?”
Well, apparently not anymore.
Sighing, Jason brought his finger to his ear, “Yeah? How’d you know I was awake?”
“Unimportant,” she said, all business, “I need you to check on Nightwing for me.”
Jason’s mind blanked, and then he scoffed, “You kidding me?” His voice was shaky. “What the f*** did he do this time?”
Oracle had no time for overly dramatic interbat-relations.
“A few hours ago, Black Mask’s servers went online, Dick’s code caught my attention. I was able to get every little bit of data ever entered into one of Mask’s computers. It was more than we’ve been able to get from him in years. Dick’s work really was genius. I tried to get in contact with him, but his trackers aren’t working, his phone’s out of the picture, and I can’t find him on any camera. I’m worried he went undercover without a backup plan for when Mask figured it out.”
Jason attempted unsuccessfully to tamp down his feelings of guilt and concern.
“Alright O, I’m on it.” He croaked, already heading out the door.
Adrenaline flowed through his veins, spurring him on. 
His earlier hate had fled, leaving behind nothing but cold determination. He was angry at his brother, sure, but he didn’t want the guy to  die… right?
And if what Oracle said was true, then it just might have been worth it for Dick to do what he did, just maybe.
Jason headed to where he’d last seen Dick. 
He found him about a block away from where they’d fought, being tortured in a rundown warehouse.
If it weren’t for the screams, Jason probably would have passed it and not even known.
Black Mask stood over Dick, who was bound to a table. Goldie was missing his shirt, and his torso was littered with burns and bruises. His feet were bare too, Roman was in the process of whipping them.
For the second time in twenty four hours, Jason felt the anger rise and the pit take over. 
The emotion was stronger this time, more powerful, Jason thought distantly. 
There were about thirty thugs surrounding Roman, guarding the man’s sadistic torture session.
Jason drew his guns, and tried not to think about the last time he’d used them to pistol whip Dickie across the face.
The first five thugs went down quickly, the next ten following right behind them. Jason reloaded. Some part of his subconscious aimed for kneecaps and non-lethal areas. The pit aimed for whatever was convenient. Nevertheless, if Jason had been paying attention, he’d have noticed that not one of his bullets missed a target.
By the time he’d made his way through all thirty of them, he had two loaded guns left, though they weren’t the same ones he’d started out with.
Roman had fled sometime during the action, like the coward he was. Jason was halfway out the door to find him when he heard a sound from behind him.
It was Dick.
Jason startled, hurrying towards his brother's side. The anger once again drained from his body.
Dick’s eyes were hazy and unfocused, they looked at him without seeing. But as Jason neared, something foreign came into them: fear.
Jason dropped his guns on the floor, trying not to think about how he’d never seen Dick look at him like that.
He bent to untie his brother from the table, and Dick flinched away from him, unintelligible noises stumbling out of his throat.
“Shh, Dickie, it’s alright.” Jason said frantically, “I’m gonna get you out of here, okay?”
He finished removing the last of the restraints just as Dick passed out from what was likely incredible pain.
--
Jason efficiently cleaned and bandaged his brother’s wounds, feeling numb. Dick’s body was covered in scars, the recent--but not too recent ones were what caught his attention. Jason didn’t want to think about when Dick must’ve gotten them.
Instead, Jason thought about something that had been bothering him before, little details here and there that he had missed. Namely: Dick hadn't been wearing his Nightwing suit during all of their interactions in the past few days. In fact, he'd been dressed quite like a detective.
 It dawned on Jason in a moment, and he felt horrified. Dick had been a detective that day in the warehouse with Black Mask's people. Back when this all started. 
 Jason's mind was racing when Dick groaned, eyes cracking open, "Wha—Jay?"
 "Yeah, it's me Dickie. I'm here."
 "What—What happened?"
 Jason sighed, "What do you remember?"
 Dick's brows furrowed in thought, "I...I had to go undercover..."
 "Why didn't you tell me?" Jason asked.
 Recognition flashed in his brother's eyes, He seemed to be getting his energy back.
 "There was no time, Roman kidnapped me, I had to play along."
 "But—there had to have been some time you could have explained the situation to me…"
 "Would you believe me if I had?" Dick's gaze was piercing.
 “I—yeah, okay, that’s fair.” Jason paused, “Were you going to tell me that you went undercover to save my a**? Or were you just going to keep letting me hate you?”
 Dick was silent.
 Jason continued, “I mean, sure. Maybe I wouldn’t have believed you. But maybe I would have. You weren’t even going to give me the choice.” Something occurred to him then. “We didn’t give you the chance to explain about Spyral…was that situation similar to this?” 
 Dick sighed, “I’m not up for having this conversation right now. Maybe later, after I wake up.”
 He burrowed further into the couch, closing his eyes.
 “One more thing,” Jason said, unwilling to let it end just like that. “Those scars…”
 Dick’s smile was bitter and darkly amused, “You didn’t think playing spy was all fun and games, did you? Everyone was out to get me. See here?” Dick half-heartedly lifted up his arm, “A cannibal took a chunk out of it. Congratulations, you’re the first to notice.”
 “I’m sorry,” Jason murmured to him, long after he’d fallen asleep. 
 The two words were long overdue.
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famouskittychild · 3 years
Text
Cheeky Mandos - ...and we're off
(Sorry I had a terrible writer’s block in the past 6-ish weeks - I went from reading fanfiction and being inspired by other’s visions to “I’ll never be able to write anything like these and I’m useless” in a single day :( I’m getting back into the groove finally, so I’m hoping to post more soon.)
There will be 18+ content (in the coming chapters soon) so if you are a minor, please don't read further.
Also the characters will be quite open and relaxed about things like gender, attraction, sexual activities, relationships etc, so if you prefer your Din (and their partner) possessive and/or monogamous , this won’t be a good read for you!
***
This pairing is  Din Djarin x gn reader / tall reader.  I’m short (and cis and woman). There’s so many short (and female) reader stuff out there, I wanted to write for people on the other end of the “why is your height not normal” / "definitely female" spectrum. If I make mistakes or you have advice, or ideas you'd like to see, please tell me!
Word count: 4267
Summary: You’re an armourer and some shiny guy just showed up.
First full piece/chapter/course! In which people seem to catch things. Thoughts? Viruses? Dropped facts? Who knows!?? Also contains a dilettante’s attempt at space electronics and some barely-canon-reminiscent Mando world-building. Still no spiciness sorry, marinating is a long process :P
Rating: T for some mentions of heavier topics.
CW: Mentions of mandalorian history, playing somewhat loose with canon lore (as in, my SW knowledge is patchy. sorry.)
Author’s note: I tried to find more info but it seems like the mandalorian alphabet doesn’t have names for the individual letters so I used aurebesh (also I liked the little Dorn(e) meta in there). And sorry for the bad puns. They’ll keep coming.
Prologue
One - ...and we're off
***
You aren’t worried about taking a stranger on board, you’ve done that plenty of times before. You hope he’s willing to put in the effort himself, too, just as he promised at the assembly.
The stranger leaves behind his ship, saying a friend will come to pick it up together with whoever might want to join the cause. You spot him from the cockpit as he walks over with a repulsor pallet in tow. He stops for a moment when your droids surge past him, busy at their pre-flight tasks, before moving on towards the ramp.
All his baggage is a satchel at his hip and a small bag on his shoulder, and two large crates of weaponry. You put him up in the spare cabin, the one that had been Sal’ee’s, your former apprentice, before she went on to be a journeyman. He stands in the middle of the room, staring at the two cots on opposite sides of the room, the lockers, the fresher in the corner.
“All mine? Where will you sleep?”
You don’t understand the surprise in his voice.
“Over there” you show him, pointing at the cabin opposite from his. It’s much more lived in, some of the blankets and trinkets and pillows visible through it’s open door. “There’s a third cabin that I mostly use for storage but has more fold-up bunks in case I need to transport more people. That’s rare though.”
“Ohh.” He nods, then turns to look around his room again. “Okay. I thought all of these rooms were cargo space.”
You smile, and quickly think through your to-do list. You’ll have to rearrange your schedule somewhat but it’s not that big of a bother.
“Come on, I’ll show you around the ship.” Before he gets lost in its cavernous interiors, you might add - but you don’t. If his reaction to a separate cabin and his current ship - an old ARC170 - is any indication, he must be used to very cramped quarters.
***
Your trusty Brick, a beat-up YV 929, is armed to the teeth and ugly, just as you like it. The ship is a scavenged one, gutted from most of its original factory issue armaments, engines, and even wiring. It was perfect for your former master when she found it at a scrap heap: she wanted to rebuild it herself, deliberately piecemeal; panels sourced form here, engines from there, concealments added. She modified the inner workings of the engines so that the power lines could be redirected to a concealed forge.
That forge is your pride and the main reason you haven’t settled at a permanent place yourself. When your master retired from travelling, the ship passed to you, and you continued her mission of offering your knowledge and expertise to those of your people who otherwise had no access to an armourer.
The next standard month is spent with adjusting, both for yourself after getting used travelling alone again since Sal’ee left, and for the stranger who found himself a passenger on someone else’s ship. Apparently he used to live a very similar life to yours, with the exception that he was a hunter not a craftsman.
You travel together, share meals, research the places you are directed to. He joins in the effort that is maintaining the ship. Still - he is very taciturn at the beginning, keeping his words to the bare minimum. The first few days it feels as if you are still on your own aside of your droids. By the middle of the month, he progresses from short answers, through sharing information, to willingly starting to tell stories; but you know that chatting will never be his defining feature.
His armour seems to fill the spaces of the Brick’s corridors. You feel as if it’s not him who has the presence, but that set of glinting, perfectly made handwork of an armourer you already admire. Some of the pieces were sourced elsewhere, you can tell by the different shapes and designs; they seem haphazard and mismatched compared to the rest. Most of the set is the work of a single person. On those, there’s not a single uneven line, a broken curve, an edge at the wrong place. The angle of the panes of the metal, the ridges, the simplicity and elegance of them all - you have to hold yourself back from touching them, to admire them. You would give a lot to hold those pieces in your hand, to study them, to analyse them with your eyes and hands and with your tools.
You’re a master, yes. But so much knowledge was lost. So many masters gone, with their knowledge and their workshops. Apprentices became heads of Forges in the absence of the more skilled. The survivors still to this day have to piece together half-remembered lessons and forgotten details, experiment with techniques that were known before but the methods got lost as decades of civil war and occupation and murder kept eroding your heritage.
Sometimes a set of armour comes along that is just made in a way you never had an opportunity to learn. Often the person who forged them is long gone. Not the stranger’s armourer though. As far you can tell, she’s alive. Or at least was, when he last saw her. Not too long ago; though your usual method for guessing forging dates is mostly useless as it is based on the condition of the suit’s paintwork. Which he doesn’t have, so you can only guess from the small amount of scratches. You try to ask once, but whilst he’s forthcoming with general stories, he doesn’t go into details.
It’s a common theme with him. He talks about people and planets and events, and leaves out a lot - and you don’t even notice it first. Only when you try to glean information about his armour do you realize how well he fuzzes over those facts and nuances. It’s only up to the peculiarities of Basic and its use of gendered pronouns that you know his Armourer is a woman, or at least he considers them so. He doesn’t even tells you his own name, and when you ask your Elder in one of your communications, she tells you he didn’t gave it to them either. You keep introducing him as a friend, and that is the end of it for a while.
***
The visits to this first few coverts with him are… interesting. You can see him fidgeting from the corner of your eye. He always follows half a step behind and off to a side, as if not wanting to be in your way. He keeps quiet and doesn’t mix much, and around small children and droids, he is positively withdrawn. He only comes alive when he talks about his mission.
You had learned early on during your apprenticeship that keeping the helmet on is a safe bet when meeting with unfamiliar mandalorians. That led to later getting in contact with his type of believers too, despite their notorious secrecy even from the rest of the People. When you tell the stranger about that, he immediately showers you with questions, but you can’t give an answer to most of them. You never met with anyone from his particular covert, or heard of it. No name, no description seems familiar. It’s painful to watch his shoulders slump after daring to hope.
During the course of the month spent travelling, he gradually comes to be more social. He starts to stand and walk beside you. He doesn’t withdraw to the background anymore; he can actually be quite chatty if approached the right way. Droids still make him stop, though he warms up to kids in his own way. He’s good with them, at least in your opinion, though you know some would still call him aloof and distant. He isn’t a cuddler, nor does he crouch down to ask cutesy questions. He juts sits nearby them, and in that way of children having a good sense about adults, they know he’s trustworthy. They go up to him to chatter, to hand him a toy to hold, to ask him to fix a latch on their boots; than they go back to play.
He teaches you too, inadvertently at first during everyday conversations and later by his own volition, about his Way. About his Creed. It keeps throwing you off how much it differs from most that you had met before. Not even meeting briefly with people who followed the same Way as him could prepare you for the details that he does share. The degree of strictness, the loyalty, the barest bones Old Tradition beliefs and their willingness to follow them is very rare amongst the People as far as you can tell. Their devotion earns your respect.
At other times, your jaw hangs open and you can’t believe you are talking to an adult roughly around the same age as yourself, who by his own admission had spent three decades living as a follower of the Creed - not knowing about things children are thought through plays and songtime. His ignorance is so staggering, your admiration towards his unknown Armourer wavers. How could she keep so many things hidden from them? Why not talk about your own history? Your greats? Your artefacts?
About the many other who would call them vod’e, siblings?
You are an armourer, a craftsman, a person who makes a living by making things with your hand. You’re not a leader, or a scholar, or someone who decides what to tell your people. You do have a status within the community, but that is a status of service. From what the stranger says, their Armourer was a leader in every aspect: elder and lorekeeper and moral guide and more. All in one. It is something you can see developing from the old songs and histories amongst groups who take tradition more literally.
You are good at observing people, even at copying their habits to make them feel more comfortable with you, but less good at determining their underlying motives. The reason you think of him as “the stranger” even after travelling with him is because it’s so hard to figure out what drives him. There’s a melancholy to him that overrides the more typical mandalorian fight-readiness or aggression. You see how he gazes off to the distance sometimes, turning his head to the side and freezing. How he keeps to himself when he can. But you can’t tell why. Grief? Regrets? Determination to change? Planning something greater and being preoccupied with that?
He doesn’t pick fights to test you. He spars with you when you invite him to, he helps when you ask, and often even without it. He’s polite and considerate; he keeps conversation to practicalities and interesting stories, and doesn’t bother you with anecdotes or insistent questions about trivialities or your private life. He even does the dishes.
He’s deadly boring in his reliableness.
You are used to being on your toes around people all the time. When you meet a new group, it’s all unknown people. With ones you had already visited, the problem is having to remember them. They remember you of course, the ‘wandering armourer’; and surely you remember them too.
What is worse, when people stay the same but you don’t remember them, or when they change and you just can’t place them?
He becomes a good excuse after you’ve been to several coverts together. It’s interesting to notice how your dynamics change even further once you two get into a comfortable routine. You start to retreat to your forge and tools, and let him take all the attention. And he doesn’t just talk about his mission anymore, or lets little ones play around him whilst he’s quiet. He converses with people about news, about their children, about weaponry. You have more time to focus on your work.
Sometimes, people ask you what do you think of his mission. You tell them that you will follow what your clan decides, and that’s mostly true. It is something people don’t often debate, at least.
He quickly becomes a part of your everyday life. You are content with your usually solitary travels. You know that your family, your clan and your friends wait for you at home. They message you and you can find the time that suits you to message back. You don’t miss the constant hubbub of the covert most of the time. But now that you have someone that is not a droid, someone who is your equal in every aspect, on board again, it’s not even lonely anymore.
***
“So what’s up with you and droids?” you ask one day, after you got back from a covert and are safely in hyperspace to the next destination. You tinker with your astromech’s navigational systems. Poor 2-T keeps bumping into walls and crates. Again.
The stranger looks at you and your droid, than over at Mouse who for a change isn’t zooming around at foot level.
“Bad memories.”
“Gunk sat on you?” You tease. You hope it’s just something silly and not him having some sort of snobbish organics-are-better philosophy. He is quiet, and you focus on your work. He’ll talk if he wants to, that much you know already about him.
Inside the body of your astromech, a rivet from stars knows where is stuck between two circuit boards and blocks the access to a short-circuited piece of wire.
“Kriff. Toots, this will take a while, sweetie. Can’t access that kriffing panel.” He chirps back something and you read the translation on the small display. “No, it’s not that. My hand can’t fit in that small space. Let me find those pliers… should be in that other drawer somewhere.”
You search in the chest of tools, and despite your usually good organization, you can’t find them amongst the droids’ tools where their place is.
“Let me help.” The stranger’s voice beside you makes you jump. He can be awfully quiet. “Sorry. I think I might’ve put them back into the wrong drawer. I used them the other day when I fine-tuned that scope.”
He points at another drawer, where you keep your fine electronics stuff. No wonder he mixed them up. He stands beside Tootee a bit awkwardly until you find the tool.
“Here! No problem by the way. “ You turn back to him and to the droid, than have an idea. “Do you mind a bit more help? You can say no if you don’t want to work with the droid, I’ll understand.”
He doesn’t object yet, so you go back to 2-T and show the stranger the area you’re working on. You see him lean closer in your peripheral vision.
“That’s where I need to get that burned piece of wire out and install a new one, but first, I need to get that rivet out of the way.” You point at the root of the problem, than explain your plan, pointing out each part in turn. ”If you could hold those using this, than I could get here, remove this, with that tool, than have to get those bundles out of the way too, so than that wire there could come out. Easy.”
You look up at him, and his helmet is way closer than you expected. You can almost see your reflection in that black visor as it stares back at you for a second, and you almost apologize again, when the stranger starts to speak.
“Just have to hold the wires to the casing, or pull them like…” he moves his hand in the air, showing what he means.
“Hold them to that panel, there, with the pliers, so I have room to access the rest.”
He thinks for a moment, than he starts to tug one of his gloves off.
“You don’t need to take that off, just hold the pliers” you tell him, but he shakes his head.
“No, I can fit my hand in there, I’m pretty sure. If not we can try it with the tool.”
You realize that this is the first time you see his skin. Than it occurs to you that he might very well misunderstand this whole situation. You just asked him to hang his hand inches from yours in an enclosed space; inside a droid nonetheless, just after you basically told him you noticed he has a problem with them. It would be so easy to get caught up in there, to touch his hand, and hush it up as coincidence. Especially now that he took his glove off as well. He might even think that it was a careful plan of yours: have an area to work with were your slightly larger hands don’t fit but his might.
Your fingertips already tingle from knowing you can’t make mistakes. Which means you’ll probably do. He reaches between the panels and gets to the part where you got stuck. He wiggles his fingers a bit and scrapes around.
“Ha, found some wires. Are these the ones you need out of the way?”
You peer down into the quagmire of electronics, trying to find the best angle to see everything.
“Yes, those are the ones. Just hold them like that.” You try to focus on what you are doing, but after those earlier thoughts, your hands are jittery. You somehow manage to remove the obstructing rivet, than find the burned out part and replace it without accident, the stranger patiently holding things out of your way. You direct him here and there, occasionally stumbling as it’s a lot of instructions, or at least a lot of “could you please” and “thank you”. It gets particularly awkward when you stumble over the lack of name spectacularly.
“Could you pull those the other way, so they aren't that taut, please? Thank you, you. I mean thank you.”
“Din. Din Djarin.” Your head snaps up while the rest of your body freezes. “I should have told you my name sooner, but I’m so used to not telling it… and it just became more awkward to bring it up as time passed. I apologize.”
You close your mouth that of course was hanging open in surprise, than shake your head.
“I thought at first that I missed it when you said it so I was ashamed that I didn’t remember.” That did happen before, and it was one of your greatest worries about meeting new people. “I actually asked my elder. Sent her a comm. So when she told me you went nameless, I didn’t wanted to demand it.”
He doesn't answer right away. His voice is softer when he speaks a bit later.
“Thank you. For being considerate.”
You smile and try to wave it off. Which results in your hand slipping and pawing at his, still motionless and stuck in the inside of the astromech.
“Oh shucks, I’m sorry… didn’t meant to.” You withdraw your hand quickly, and start to look for your tools to cover your mistake.
He doesn’t seem bothered, luckily. You calm down, reminding yourself not to behave like you drank one too many glasses of your cousin Ree’s home-made tihaar, and finish the repair.
“You can let those go now, I’ll finish from here. Thanks for your help.”
“You’re welcome, any time.”
He sits back on a nearby crate and watches you work for a while, ignoring Mouse zooming around the room. You’re surprised a bit: you didn't expected him to stick around. And than he starts to ask about 2-T. How long you had him, is he temperamental, can you install a vocoder on astromechs, and why not. His tone is somewhat cautious, his voice stiff, like someone asking about a dangerous predator. You remember how you asked him about his distance with droids, but don’t want to push that question. He already told you his name today.
By the time you finish with the rest of the repairs, clean Tootee up and tidy around your workplace, interrupted by having to leave hyperspace and land at a spaceport, it’s the middle of the night in local time. You planned to have a nap and search out the local covert just before dawn.
You go to the galley to have a bite before turning in, and the stranger - Din, you remember, although his last name is less clear - is cleaning up some dishes. There’s another bowl in the middle of the small table, covered by a plate.
“That’s for you, if you’d like to have it. Used up the last of that spice mix we got” he tells you as you enter. You sit down and stretch your legs out one side. As you take the plate off from the steaming bowl, you think about how nice it is to find warm food on the table and not having to cook your own all the time.
“Thank you.” You pull the bowl close and take the spoon that he put beside it. You swirl the soup - it looks very good: clear broth with lots of veggies and other fillers in it - and gather your thoughts. “So ummm… I want to ask something before it gets awkward again.“
He finishes piling the bowls and cups and sits down on the seat opposite. You blurt the question out before you might change your mind.
“What was your name again? Din, that was clear, but the rest… sorry but it sounded something like “jarring”?”
He chuckles, and it’s a clear sound even with a vocoder, no snort or sigh to distort it.
“It’s Djarin. Dorn-jenth-aurek-resh-isk-nern. Djarin.” You nod, a bit embarrassed, and he continues. “Don’t worry, you aren't the first to ask. Probably not the last either.”
“Thanks for being patient. I’m not the best with names, to be honest.”
He tilts his head.
“Is that why you are always so focused when someone introduces themselves? I can ask them to repeat their names for me too if you want to, than both of us can try to remember them.”
You blink at him.
“That’d be…” Unnecessary, and don’t bother, and it’s not your job, you think - but stop yourself. That would actually help. No shame in accepting it. ”That would be nice. Thanks.” You are good at a few things, like making things with your own two hands. Not gaping when something surprises you, or remembering faces or names, any names, not just people? Nah.
You tuck into your soup, and the two of you sit in companionable silence. You wander if Djarin sits there because he wants to, or if he’s waiting for more questions from you. You asked a lot from him during the last few hours, and he was really kind with all his help and telling you his name and not being bothered when you misremembered it.
You are halfway done with your meal when he stirs. He leans forward with his lower arms on the table, and takes a deep breath. You wonder what his question will be - you commit to answer whatever it might be. He deserves that after today.
“So you asked earlier about me and… droids, right?”
Your hand with the spoon stops in the air. You weren’t expecting this question, at all.
“Yes…” You want to say he didn’t have to answer. But you already told him that. You’re sure he remembers that too - since he brought the topic up again. “Yes, I did.”
He shuffles on his seat a bit, and looks out to the side like he sometimes does. You lower your spoon and eat, letting him gather his thoughts.
“When I was a kid… I don’t know how old you were then, but during the war. The Clone wars.” You nod, understanding what he’s getting at, and he continues. “We were… the place I lived came under attack. Some separatist battle droids. Mandalorians saved me.”
You swallow your soup. That was the shortest possible description of someone having their entire life and probably everyone they knew ripped away from them and finding a new way of life for the decades to come.
“I’m sorry” you say, because really, what else is there to say. He nods, and gazes off again. Than he shrugs his shoulders, as if he wants to shake the weight of the past from them.
He gets up, and walks around the table on his way out. He stops beside you for a moment and hesitates, and you almost turn towards him to ask what he needs when you feel him squeeze your shoulder. Than he straightens and steps away.
It’s warm where he squeezed it, and you remember how long ago it was that someone touched you.
You need to talk to your friends asap, and hug at least some of them. He turns back from the door.
“Get some sleep before dawn, all right? Have to be sharp to remember all those new names.” You don’t see him wink but you’d bet he does behind his visor. You scrunch your nose at him and pout before smiling, and he dips out of the galley.
Your hand is still hovering in the air, holding the spoon, while you listen to his footsteps getting more distant as he walks down the corridor to his cabin.
It’s just your luck that you don’t need your wits the next place. It’s only two people with the same, simple name and you met both of them before.
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