#this man would have loved c.s. lewis | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

theidiotwhowritesthings · 1 year

Text

A FRESH START [21]

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Warnings: description of injuries, language, spoilers for S3 The Mandalorian, death of minor original character, self defense leading to homicide, groping of reader by stranger (not described in depth)

Word Count: 10k+

Updates every Thursday

Summary: When you made plans for your future they never involved being hired by a Mandalorian to baby-sit his adorable, green gremlin of a child. However, after your life fell apart in the span of one disastrous night, you found it to be the only feasible option you had left. Nevarro was a far cry from Coruscant, but the thriving community turned out to be exactly what you needed. Every day you spend in Nevarro you fall more and more in love with your new life, but when your past rears its ugly head you find that perhaps peace wasn’t meant for everyone.

[a/n: i am so sorry this took so long i know y'all have been waiting all day for it. work was so hectic and i was so frazzled and it's been a long day hah. i know the tags at the bottom aren't all working right and i'm sorry about that but tumblr kept being a bitch and i was gonna lose my mind. speaking of taglists, i am closing AFS's taglist. anyways, hope y'all enjoy!]

#21: MADE OF THE RIGHT STUFF

"no one ever told me that grief felt so much like fear." -c.s. lewis

The Armorer had been a constant in Din’s life. She was a staple piece of the covert⏤ a figure of mentor ship in his upbringing. He had always greatly admired her, and her opinion meant a lot to him. It was why hearing her call him ‘Apostate’ had stung so badly. Coming from anyone it was a blow, but having the Armorer cast him away had been devastating. Being able to come before her, prove his redemption, and have her reinstate him had been a sweet moment. If Din were a smart man he would’ve left it at that and been on his way. However, Din was a stubborn man. A stubborn man who would not leave this rock until he got what he wanted come hell or high water.

“She is an outsider.” The Armorer spoke in Mando’a.

“Yes, but⏤”

“An outsider that you ask me to stoke the forge for?”

Din kept his entire body still to hide his nerves. “Yes. That is what I am asking.” The Armorer did not reply further. She stayed silent, seated by the forge with her hands laid in her lap. Din spoke up again, unable to resist. “She is made of the right stuff. The virtues of a Mandalorian. She may not follow the Way, but she understands it⏤ respects it.”

“You wish to court her?” The Armorer asked and Din gave a firm nod. “Have you presented her with a token of intention?”

Din thought to the blaster he had gifted you. Typically, a token of intention would be a weapon of some kind created for the intended. However, the blaster had once been his and it did not have his signet on it. Plus, it had been given to you while he was an Apostate. It did not count. “No. I have not.”

“This forge is for beskar, and I do not make weapons⏤”

“I am not requesting a weapon.” Din said firmly. He knew beskar was for armor. It was part of the reason his spear had been melted down to create Grogu’s chainmail. Din already had a plan for his token of intention. That was of no concern to him. “I am requesting a set of bracers with my signet.”

The Armorer’s head gave a slight tilt and he wasn’t shocked by her surprise. She rose from her seat and her hands clasped behind her back as she spoke. “You have yet to present this woman with a token of intention, yet you are requesting a token of ridduurok?”

“Yes.” Din replied. He knew how it sounded. Din was not blind to the weight of his request. However, it wasn’t as if he planned to present this to you the moment he returned. He was going to take his time, court you properly, and let you control the speed at which this relationship would move. Din was a man who was sure of what he wanted though, and he knew that was you. He had known that for quite some time now. There was no one else in this galaxy for him. People were constantly referring to you as his wife, and he always corrected them, but more than anything he wanted to be in the position where he did not have to. Din wanted it to be true. “I am sure of my decision and wanted to bring this decision to you sooner rather than later.”

“And if I refuse?” The Armorer pressed.

“I…” Din swallowed the lump in his throat. His hands clenched tight as they rested on top of his thighs. “I would be disappointed, but it would not stop me. She is who I want. She is… She is who I love.”

The Armorer hummed in response and it gave him no clear picture on where the figure head stood on this decision. She made the motion for him to rise from his seat. Din pushed up and tried to hide the tension in his frame. She finally spoke, but it was only to motion to the door and speak on a different topic. “Take your boy to the training yard. We will speak again.”

Din bit back a sigh and gave a tense nod. Well, it was better than an outright no. He turned on his heel to go find Grogu. As he walked, he lifted his vambrace to try and call you. Hours earlier you hadn’t answered, but Din assumed that meant you were busy in the clinic. It happened sometimes. Just as before, the signal did not pick up on your end and his steps came to a slow pause. An uncomfortable feeling settled in his gut. You were busy. His mind was jumping to the worst case scenario, but you were probably just busy. He forced himself to keep walking. Din would try again soon.

Your ears were ringing, and you felt like you were trapped in a fog. There was a tugging on your arm. You lifted your gaze to try and find the source. Nima. It was Nima. She stood by your side, eyes wide in panic, as she screamed at you. She screamed but there was only the ringing. With a final tug, she dragged you up to your feet and the world snapped into focus.

Sirens. A siren was blaring and it mingled with the sound of explosions as fire rained down from the Corsair in the sky. “We have to go!” Nima screamed and your eyes snapped to her. “Come on! Move!”

Nima was pulling you down the road as the two of you got lost in the crowd of other panicked citizens. The smell of smoke burned your nose and you could feel the heat of various burning buildings as you passed. Your head was throbbing and with every step your vision would blur for a second before shakily coming back into focus. The flow of the running crowd picked up speed and panic as another bomb fell not too far away and your hand slipped out of Nima’s. You heard her scream out your name, saw a flash of her pink skin as she tried to jump and spot you, but she was swept even further away.

Someone slammed into you from behind and you went sprawling. Get out of the way. Get out of the way. This was a stampede and you needed to move. Unable to get to your feet quick enough you threw yourself to the side beside some rubble so you weren’t trampled.

While leaning against the rubble, you tried to catch your breath. Your arms were covered in the dust being kicked up into the air, but no immediate wounds. Hesitantly, you probed at your hairline and winced when you found a tender spot. Pulling your hand back your fingers were coated in a shine of blood.

“Shit.” You breathed. That explained the concussion.

Most of the crowd had passed and you glanced around to figure out where you were. The school house was up ahead which meant if you kept pressing down the street you’d reach the lava plains. With a grunt, you tried to jog forward⏤ in the distance behind you, the sounds of deep, excited yelling spurned you on. As you were passing the school the sound of a muffled scream brought you to a screeching halt. You paused, trying to ignore the pounding of your heart and the excited yelling getting closer. After a beat, there was another scream. Fuck, the schoolhouse.

Your eyes darted to where you could see the edge of the city. Din would be so mad at you. You could almost hear his voice at the back of your mind barking for you to get the hell out of Nevarro. The scream came again and it sounded young. All you could picture was Grogu, scared and hurt, trapped in the rubble. That made your decision for you. If this had been your boy you’d want someone to stop for him. You sprinted into the school house and scanned the destroyed classroom. The back corner had caved in from a bomb.

“Hey!” You yelled. “Can you hear me? Where are you!?”

“Here!”

That was Wynn’s voice, Grogu’s teacher, and it sounded like it was coming from the space behind the pile of rubble. You hurried over and scanned the pile for a spot you could pull away. Wynn was making calming noises to a sobbing and hysterical child⏤ that’s who had screamed. You wrapped your fingers around a block and pulled it back. The large chunk of concrete shifted just enough that you could get down on your knees and crawl through.

All of the rubble had blocked off one of the small back cubbies where the children would keep their bags. There you found Wynn, uninjured but covered in dust, clutching a familiar child in her arms. Elodie. You tried to bite back the gasp that threatened to leave you.

“Hey, sweetie, it’s okay.” You said softly and crawled closer. “Do you remember me, Elodie?”

She sniffled, “You’re⏤ You’re Gro⏤ Grogu’s mommy.”

“That’s right.” You nodded and shifted so you sat right beside them both. Elodie’s blonde hair was covered in soot and you could see bright red blood on her shirt. Jaen and Dayen were probably out of their minds with worry. Maker. “Can you tell me what hurts?”

“Her arm.” Wynn mouthed.

Elodie was crying once more, and you reached forward to carefully touch her. Elodie let out a scream of panic and you tried to whisper reassurances. “It’s okay, it’s okay, sweetie. I’m gonna make it better.” You pulled her right arm away from her body as it had been cradling and covering the left one, and as soon as you did you felt the blood drain from your face. Still, you kept your features neutral. Her left arm was broken, her pale skin discolored in ugly shades of purple and red, and the bone itself had pierced out of her skin. That’s where the blood had come from.

“The other kids were out for recess. My assistant got them out, but Elodie had come back in to use the bathroom.” Wynn shook her head. The gentle woman was trembling. “I couldn’t move the rubble and hold her.”

You gave your pockets a pat, but the only item you had on you was some medical tape. “Dank farrik.” You muttered. “Wynn, where’s the school’s first aid kit?”

“Out by my desk.”

You spun and crawled back out of the rubble to find the kit. If the kit was up to date then you’d have the supplies you needed for a temporary patch job. It didn’t take you long to dig the kit out of the desk, but it was then you noticed the explosions had stopped. Everything had stopped save for the hooting and hollering in the distance. Shit. You raced back to where Wynn and Elodie sat.

“Alright, sweetie, I want you to look at Ms. Wynn, okay? Just her.” You said. You met Wynn’s gaze and she seemed to understand what was about to happen and nodded.

“Hey, honey.” Wynn spoke softly and shifted so she could hold Elodie’s head to face her. You dug through the kit while the teacher spoke calmly and kindly to the little girl who was still crying. The first thing you did was grab the medgun which was loaded with pain meds and punched the needle into her arm without warning. Elodie’s crying grew worse and you hit her with the needle twice more. Three doses was just below what would be too much for a girl her size. Then you grabbed the bacta spray and began to coat the open wound with it in thick layers.

The numbing pain meds seemed to be working as her sobs turned to hiccups, but she was not going to like this next part. However, the sound of the attackers was growing closer which meant you were running out of a window to do this. You set one hand behind Elodie’s elbow and grasped her left hand with your other. Wynn saw the motion and held onto Elodie tighter. You gave her hand a sharp tug, drawing the bone back into place, and the scream that left Elodie’s little lips was haunting. It only lasted a second before her eyes rolled to the back of her head and she went limp.

“Elodie??” Wynn cried.

“She’s okay.” You checked her pulse and breathing. “The pain just overwhelmed her.”

Quickly, you grabbed the gauze and wrapped it around her arm along with the collapsible splint to keep it from moving. The sound of a deep laugh while someone kicked around items made you and Wynn freeze. You carefully closed up the kit and motioned for Wynn to pull Elodie to the side and even deeper into the pocket you were trapped in.

“I liked this place better when it was a bar!” A voice barked out and other men laughed. You were hearing at least four voices. “Look at all this shit!” The sound of furniture being tossed around made you wince. “Where’s Beetl with the liquor!?”

It sounded like they were settling into place and you mentally cursed.

The three of you were going to be stuck here for longer than you liked, and you just prayed Elodie stayed unconscious.

Din was getting nervous. So much so that he couldn’t even enjoy watching Grogu beat Paz’s son in a sparring match with darts. All he could think about was the fact that he wasn’t getting in touch with anyone from Nevarro. You still weren’t picking up his calls, and now he couldn’t get in touch with anyone else either.

He had to go back.

“And you’re going to take Grogu with you?” Bo Katan questioned.

“He goes where I go.” Din replied. Grogu grunted in agreement from his arms while Bo Katan shook her head in disagreement. He had told her a quick good-bye and to explain to the others where he was going. Din had a sinking feeling since this morning that he just couldn’t shake.

“Djarin⏤”

His vambrace chirped as a message came through and Din let out a breath of relief seeing Mayfeld’s name. Din shifted the call to his helmet. “Mayfeld! What the hell⏤”

“We got trouble, boss.” Mayfeld blurted. His voice strained. “King Gorian Shard is here. His Corsair is raining fire down on Nevarro. We evacuated the city and⏤”

“Soran.” Din blurted your fake name, the one you still went by. “Where is she? Is she alright?!”

“I’m sure she’s fine⏤”

“You’re sure??” Din barked. “You have eyes on her?! Mayfeld! Do you have eyes⏤”

“I saw her and Nima running out of the city when this all started.” Mayfeld snapped, the sound of blaster fire filled the other line before he spoke again, “We’re trying to keep the pirates away from the citizens, we’re out in the lava plains⏤” Din felt like he was going to be sick. That wasn’t enough. That wasn’t enough reassurance for him. “Mando!? Mando, are you listening!?”

“I’m coming. Just keep them safe. Please get Soran to call me when you see her.”

“It might be tough. The Corsair is jamming our communications. We’ve been trying to get in contact with you this entire time but⏤”

The call cut out and Din was already moving. Bo slid into his path and he nearly bowled her over to get past. She held her hands out and forced him to a stop.

“What is happening?”

“Nevarro is under attack. Gorian Shard brought his Corsair and his men have infiltrated the city.” Din snapped. “Now move⏤”

“You can’t just go there alone.”

“Get the hell out of my way.” Din’s hand drifted to his blaster.

Bo let out a slow sigh and tilted her head. “Think, Djarin. What do you think you’ll be able to do on your own? You’re out gunned on this. You need back up.” Logic told him that she wasn’t wrong, but every fiber of his being was screaming for him to shove past her and get to the N1. “You’re wasting time here with me.”

“I know!” Din yelled, frustrated. “So get out of my way, Bo.”

“The covert is a community, is it not? A family?” Bo questioned. “You have some of the finest warriors in the galaxy here, yet you want to go to Nevarro alone?”

Din was shaking. A mix of anger and fear. Grogu tilted his head up to gaze at him, wide eyes filled with concern. His son may not have fully understood what was happening, but he knew something was wrong. Grogu chirped, “Ma?”

“I get it. I do. But how much can you help this girl of yours if you run in blind and get yourself killed?” Bo pressed. She shook her head. “You drive me up the wall, Djarin, but I know you’re not a complete idiot. Think for a second here.”

With a frustrated huff, Din spun on his heel to find the Armorer. With every step he took, Bo on his tail, Din prayed to the Maker, and any other deity that may be listening, that you were somewhere safe. He was coming for you. Din would tear through any person who stood in his way. He just needed you to hold on a little while longer.

Apparently, the pirates had decided to make the schoolhouse their new cantina. Never mind there was literally a cantina filled with drinks right in the middle of the city they could use. New voices would come in and out, laughing loudly and blindly firing their blasters, while you and Wynn stayed silent. Hours had passed. As unlucky as this entire situation seemed, you were thankful that Elodie was still out cold and that not a single one of the attackers was curious enough to dig through rubble.

You leaned your head against the wall and tapped on your communicator uselessly. It was dead for some reason. Maybe the attack had something to do with that. None of your calls were going out and if someone was trying to call you then it wasn’t coming in. You let your arm fall to the side and glanced over to see Wynn gently running her fingers through Elodie’s hair in a soothing pattern.

Poor Jaen and Dayen. You hoped they were alright and out in the lava plains with everyone else. If you were in that situation, stuck outside the city while Grogu was trapped Maker knows where? There was nothing that would keep you from racing after him. You’d claw the face off anyone who tried to stop you from searching for him. Despite knowing that fact, you still hoped someone was holding them back. The last thing you wanted was for something terrible to happen to them.

A loud crash made you and Wynn jump. You shifted so you sat between the only opening out into the main room and the little girl. Wynn wrapped her arms tighter around Elodie. Laughs followed the crash and it seemed like you were still safe⏤ for now. This wasn’t going to last. You couldn’t just sit here and pray a miracle happened. All it would take is one noise from the three of you or one of the pirates getting nosy and that would be it. Game over.

The light that had been streaming through the hole in the ceiling, created from the rubble, had disappeared hours ago. As night settled over Nevarro this could be good or bad news. If you were lucky then with the darkness the pirates would drift away to sleep and give you three a chance to make a run for it, but if you weren’t lucky then even more people would drift into the school house to drink. Based on the setting, you were not having a lucky day and so far it seemed none of the men drinking were slowing down quite yet.

A soft whimper made you stiffen and you saw Elodie begin to squirm in Wynn’s arms. Wynn’s gaze met yours in a panic and you began to quietly dig through the first aid kit again. You couldn’t expect the young girl to stay completely quiet with an injury like that. There were a few more doses of pain medication. You hated the idea of giving her more than the recommended dose, but as long as you kept an eye on her vitals. Risk versus benefit. In this scenario, there was more benefit than risk currently.

You pressed the needle into her upper arm and moments later her features evened out. You let out a breath of relief and leaned your head against the wall once more. This was a waiting game and that was your least favorite situation to be stuck in. With a slow breath, you let your eyes close for just a moment.

“Soran.”

A soft hiss made your eyes snap open, to see Wynn trying to grab your attention. You felt dazed and you were now lying on your side. You had closed your eyes for only a second, but the lighting had changed. It was still dark, but the dim glow of dawn could be seen through the ceiling’s hole. You pushed up and winced at the headache still lingering behind your eyes.

“Shit.” You mumbled quietly. “How long was I out?”

“Through the night?” Wynn whispered back. “I was worried. You were out cold.”

“Elodie?”

Wynn shook her head. “Still sleeping.” You turned your head to try and listen out for the main room. It was mostly quiet now, but there was still an artificial glow peeking through the rubble’s cracks. “I think most fell asleep, but they’re still out there.”

You shifted and reached out for Elodie. “Take a break, Wynn. Get some sleep.”

She nodded without much argument and you could see the exhaustion in her eyes. You wished you had woken earlier. It didn’t take long for Wynn to lay down and fall asleep herself while you curled Elodie in your arms⏤ careful not to jar her arm. Holding her made you miss Grogu, but you were thankful he wasn’t here. If anything ever happened to him you don’t think you’d survive it. Him or Din. That was a comfort you could take in this. Neither of your boys were here to possibly get hurt.

They were worlds away⏤ safe.

Maybe an hour had passed when Elodie began to murmur and move against you. You held her tighter to your chest and whispered that she was safe with you. A whimper left her lips and you winced. “Elodie, sweetie, you’re okay. I need you to stay quiet for me.” You whispered. Her bleary eyes blinked open and you ran a hand through her hair. “It’s me. You’re safe with me and Ms. Wynn. Everything is okay.”

“I want my mommy and daddy.” Elodie began to cry. You buried her face into your shoulder to muffle the sounds of her sobs.

“I know.” You mumbled into her hair. “I know, sweetie.”

Elodie cried for a while, but it slowed to harsh and tired breathing. She was awake and clinging to you with her good arm. You continued to run your hand through her hair and murmur how brave she was and how proud her parents would be. This seemed to marginally calm her.

The sound of shuffling grew closer to the rubble and you felt your entire body stiffen⏤ on edge. It didn’t seem like he was looking for anything and moments later you heard the sound of peeing off to the sound of the rubble. Your nose scrunched in disgust but you supposed it could be worse. The man began to talk to some others and you listened as closely as you could to try and count the number of people in the room. As the glow of dawn spread across the sky, you really needed to get out of here. Elodie was stable, but she needed proper medical care.

Wynn woke up when you hissed her name and you shifted the little girl in your arms to her. They both stared at you in alarm as you crawled slowly and quietly toward the rubble blocking you in. As you got closer you laid on your belly and shuffled closer. You were low enough to be able to peek through the entrance, but you stayed as far back as you could to remain out of sight just in case one of the men was facing the rubble.

“How long do we gotta stick ‘round here?” A man scoffed. Someone threw a bottle and you heard the glass shatter with a wince. “Can’t we go?”

“You wanna tell the King what to do?” Another snorted. “Be my guest, idiot.”

A third man chimed in and they seemed to go in circles. Three in total then? Unless one was quiet, but you sincerely doubted that. It seemed like every soul that swung through here couldn’t keep their mouth shut. You crawled back deeper into the pocket to settle beside Wynn and Elodie.

“We need to get out of here.” You whispered. “I have a plan. I’m going to distract them⏤”

“Wait⏤”

“⏤and while I do that, you’re gonna take Elodie out the back and use the alley to get Elodie to the lava plains. It’ll be a straight shot. Just stay off the main street.”

Wynn shook her head. “This is dangerous. You’re putting yourself in an awful situation. Maybe we should just stay.”

“We’re tempting fate just by sitting here, and Elodie needs further medical care.” You argued. “This is our best bet.” Wynn still didn’t seem convinced, but you had already made your decision. In your career, you needed to rely on gut calls. Instinct. No time for hesitation. It was best if you did this now before more men showed up. “I’m gonna make them chase after me, and as soon as they follow you need to take Elodie out the back door. Do you understand?”

Wynn nodded after a moment. “I do. Just please be careful.”

Before you could lose your nerve, you crawled back toward the rubble entrance and tried to listen and figure out where each man sat. If you had to guess, you’d say they were on the other side of the room which worked in your favor, and the front door was a straight shot. The issue would be going from on your knees to running without tripping over or being shot. Once again, you heard Din at the back of your head telling you what a reckless and stupid idea this was. That was always a good sign, right?

You sucked in a sharp breath, waited until you heard the men burst into laughter, and then pushed out. It all moved in a blur. You stumbled over your feet, trying to get off your knees, you heard the men shout in alarm, but you kept moving. They were jumping up, yelling at you, but you pumped your arms to sprint faster toward the door. You took a sharp turn right out the door and ran down the street towards the city’s center⏤ away from the direction Wynn and Elodie would need to go in.

Glancing over your shoulder, you saw three men following. Good. Your plan fell apart when you turned your head to see where you were running only to collide into a firm body that sent you sprawling to the concrete ground with a grunt.

You tried to jump up, but a boot pressed down on your chest keeping you pinned on your back. A thickly built Twi’lek stared down at you with a sickening grin. His skin was a dark shade of purple and you could see an injury on his side that stained his clothes with blood.

“Well, well,” The Twi’lek hummed, “Aren’t you just adorable?”

“Oh, come on, Kiff.” One of the men who had been chasing you complained. “We saw her first!”

The Twi’lek, Kiff, shook his head and glared at the men. “Is there a reason you left a civilian alive? You had strict orders.” He drew his blaster pointing it at the men first who shuffled back a step and then he pointed it down at you. You stiffened, your hands gripping his boot, and he just smirked down at you. An excited anticipation glowing in his dark eyes. This man was looking forward to killing you. “Any last words?”

“You’re going to die.” You blurted the first thought that came to mind. His face furrowed at the threat, but you shook your head and pointed at his side. “That injury. I’d guess you have an hour at most.”

“It’s nothing. I was just grazed. Not even bleeding anymore. Nice try.” He huffed.

You were lying through your teeth, but he didn’t look like a man who knew much about anything. You kept your voice calm and firm. “I can see the bruising from where your shirt is torn. It’s not bleeding externally anymore, but you are bleeding internally. That’s where all the bruising is from.” He swallowed once and you kept on. “Right now, I bet you feel fine. Barely hurts. Give it another half hour and you’re gonna be in agony. Look at me.” You motioned down to yourself. “You think I’m wearing these scrubs for the fun of it? I’m a doctor, you ass.”

“Then I guess that means you know how to fix it.” He spat at you. Kiff put his blaster away and reached down to snatch you off the ground. You were barely on your feet when his hand clamped around your throat painfully tight. You clawed at him, trying to loosen the grip, but he didn’t even flinch. “Fix it. Now.”

“Clinc.” You gasped. “I need⏤ Clinc.”

Kiff threw you aside and you sucked in as much air as you could while trying to stay on your feet. The other pirates were still watching as Kiff buried his hand in your hair and held on like a leash. He leaned forward to press his lips near your ear. “Lead the way, bitch.”

It had taken hours too long to get to Nevarro. Din was thankful for Bo, thankful for his covert, as they agreed to help, but as his ship entered Nevarro’s atmosphere and his eyes landed on the smokey and still burning city beneath a monstrous Corsair, Din lost his breath. You were down there. You were in that mess.

“Ma? Ma!” Grogu was slamming his hands on the N1’s window. Din scooped the boy up to bring back to his lap and tucked him under his bandolier as a makeshift seat belt.

Bo’s voice came over his comm unit, checking in to see if Din was still on board with the plan, and he was forced to agree. She was going to drop a unit of Mandalorians down to the city streets to fight, but it was up to him and Bo to take care of King Gorian Shard’s ship. As he got near, he saw a group of civilians nestled out in the lava plains. Were you there? You had to be there. Din could not wrap his mind around any other situation.

“Let’s get this done.” Din barked gruffly over the communication line.

The sooner he burned Gorian Shard’s ship to the ground, the sooner he could find you.

The clinic was in shambles. Most of the structure itself looked intact, but a group of pirates must have ran through to scavenge for supplies because everything was sloppily tossed around. The hand tangled in your hair was roughly pulling, making your scalp ache, as you let him shove you forward into the main clinic space. You had a plan. It was a very, very bad plan, but that seemed to be the theme of the last 24 hours.

“Well, get to work then.” Kiff threw you aside before climbing up onto one of the cots. You straightened your posture and tried to steel your nerves as you approached him. He stared at you, eyes following your every moment, as you reached out to peel his shirt up. You pretended to examine his skin. “How long is this gonna take?”

“Depends.” You muttered⏤ your throat felt raw from his grip earlier.

Kiff’s hand trailed down your side until it reached your backside. He kneaded his fingers over your ass, groping and pulling you closer, and it took all your strength to keep a steady face. You knew he was looking for a reaction.

“I think you just wanted to get me alone.” Kiff hummed arrogantly.

“I need to grab the cautery.” You said and turned to walk toward your desk. He slid off the cot to grasp your hips and you felt a terrifying chill run down your spine as your skin crawled in disgust. “You should stay seated.”

“I think I’ll follow along.” Kiff leaned forward and you tried to ignore him as you continued toward your desk. He follow only half a step behind, large hands groping where he could reach, and you felt his hot breath on the back of your neck. When you reached the desk, your shaky hand reached for the top drawer. Kiff leaned into you, pinning you between his hips and the side of the desk, as he chuckled. “I could fuck you right here, right now. How’s that sound?”

A while back, Din tried to convince you to carry the blaster he gave you on your person at all times. You argued that a doctor shouldn’t be walking around locked and loaded. Din didn’t love your argument, but the two of you settled on a compromise. You wouldn’t wear the blaster on your hip, but you’d keep it within reach at the clinic.

Your hand wrapped around the blaster’s grip, your finger clicking off the safety as Kiff was distracted by feeling you up, and without pause you spun and fired. He was so tangled around you that the shot only clipped his side, but it was enough to make him grunt in pain and stumble back.

“You bitch!” He roared.

Not giving him the chance to say anything further or even to reach for a weapon, you fired again. And again, and again, and again. Your finger pulled the trigger over and over. Even after the fourth and fifth burned through his chest and he lay on the ground with blank eyes, you fired more. In fact, you didn’t stop until the blaster overheated and slipped from your shaky hands. If anyone deserved to die it was a piece of shit like him, but you had taken an oath to do no harm. You had lost patients before, that was the nature of medicine, but you had never deliberately taken a life before.

Nausea rolled through your body as the stench of burning flesh met your nose. It was familiar to you, but only through procedures and operations. Never like this. Never caused by your hand. Panicked, the voice at the back of your head, the one that sounded like Din, pleaded for you to pick up the blaster and run. You wondered how hard you had hit your head yesterday to be hearing his voice like this. You picked up the blaster with trembling hands and hurried out of the clinic.

Lava plains. You needed to get out of this city.

The sound of a firefight was filling the air as you began to sprint down the street, but a very familiar sight sped by overhead in a blur. The N1. Your feet came to a screeching halt. Din. Din was here. Din had come. Hot tears rolled down your cheeks in relief. You were still in the midst of a war zone, surrounded by fire, smoke, and danger, but just knowing that Din was in the vicinity came as an incredible comfort. Stumbling forward again, you tried to send out a call through your communicator once more, but it still seemed dead.

Just keep moving. Din was here now which meant everything was going to be alright. Just keep moving.

You had made decent progress down the road when the sight of a familiar body filled your view. Wynn. It took a beat before you rushed to their side. Wynn was lying on her chest so you cautiously flipped her over and a soft groan left her weary lips. Your eyes were immediately drawn to the significant wound decorating her abdomen. A blaster shot. Her dress and skin were charred from the heat of the blaster fire, but it clipped deep enough to hit an artery. That was the only explanation for the amount of blood you were seeing and the continued steady ooze. You applied pressure to the wound, to try and stop the bleeding, and Wynn didn’t even whimper in pain. Her just fluttered.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re gonna be okay.” You said, trying to convince yourself more than her.

“Elodie…” Wynn gasped.

“Reinforcements are here. You just gotta hang on⏤”

“She ran. I told her to run.” Wynn pushed the words out. “They ambushed us. I⏤I tried⏤ I tried to hold them back.” You pressed down on her abdomen harder. The blood seeping through your fingers. You bit down hard on your lower lip and tried not to cry out at how useless you felt. You knew the odds of this injury, you were fighting fate currently. “Find her⏤”

You shook your head. “I will. I will, but I have to take care of you first. You’re bleeding⏤” Wynn’s shaky breaths came to a stop as you watched the life leave her eyes. “No, no.” Frantically you felt for a pulse and when you didn’t find one, you began CPR. Desperate. Was this your fault? Maybe you should have stayed in the school house. Had you made the wrong call? After three short rounds you fell back on your heels with a shaky gasp. “Wynn?”

Her unseeing eyes stared blankly up at the sky. Tears were rolling down your cheeks again and when you tried to swipe them away you felt her hot blood, still fresh on your hands, smear across your cheek and you gasped. You tried to use your scrub top to wipe it away.

Elodie. You had to find Elodie. Wynn’s blood was on your hands, figuratively and literally, but you had to save Elodie. You gently closed Wynn’s eyes, whispering an apology, and stumbled away. The blaster was back in your grasp and you were desperate.

“Elodie!” You yelled. Not giving a single damn if the pirates heard you. The sound of blaster fire echoed down the streets just as it rang in the air overhead. “Elodie!” You were weaving in and out of buildings as you were able and peering down any alley you passed. “El⏤”

The heat of a blaster bolt screamed past you only narrowly missing you. You threw yourself to the ground as more fired in your direction. The pile of rubble you hid behind took most of the blows, but you could hear the yelling of your attackers growing closer. Shit. Shit. Shit. Blindly, you lifted your hand to try and fire a few shots of your own, but if it made contact with anyone you didn’t hear it do so. You tried to scan the region, looking for an escape, but the two paths you saw involved running out into the open. You wouldn’t survive that.

Right as you began to try and force yourself into accepting the terrible decision of making a run for it. Louder, rapid blaster fire filled the air and the attackers screamed briefly before it all fell quiet. Someone had killed the men firing at you. The enemy of your enemy was your friend right? Hesitantly, you peered around the rubble and the sight of Mandalorian armor made you jump back out into the street.

The Mandalorian, a large man in armor decorated in shades of blue, carried a black turrent and it swiveled toward you at the sound of your approach. You held your hands up in surrender. “Please! I need help!”

“The path is clear.” The man barked out in a deep voice and motioned down the street. The direction you knew would take you to the lava plains. “Go.”

“No, I⏤ There’s a child lost here.” You rushed to stand in front of him. His broad frame towered over you. You had always thought Din was a large Mandalorian, but this guy may as well have been a building with legs. “I need help finding her.”

“I will seek out the child. You leave the city.”

“I’m not leaving her behind.” You glared at him.

He stiffened and maybe you had just gotten good at reading Mandalorian body signals from Din, but you could tell this man was glaring at you through his helmet at your disobedience. “This area is not fully secured. Leave the city and I will⏤”

“You can’t kill pirates and search for a little girl at the same time.” You snapped. “I’ll stay and we can⏤”

“You will go⏤”

“Look at me!” You barked out with the same confidence you used to command any other emergency you had encountered. The Mandalorian looked taken aback at your tone. You kept your shoulders tight, solid, then spoke in a firm voice that gave no room for argument. “I am going to find Elodie, and you are going to mow down any pirate that gets in our fucking way. Do you understand? This is a team effort. I am not leaving that little girl behind. So either you help me, or I do this on my own.”

The Mandalorian was fuming at you. At least, that’s what you were assuming based on the silent gaze he was burning down into you. This was not debatable. You lost Wynn. You would not lose Elodie. Over your dead body would anyone hurt that little girl any further. Finally, the Mandalorian blew out an irritated sigh and bobbed his head down the street.

“Move then.” He ordered.

You pointed down an alley to the left. “I’ve already been down that way. We need to cut here to search further.”

Without waiting for his response, you marched down the alley. Only a second passed before a heavy hand clamped down on your shoulder and roughly dragged you back. The Mandalorian scoffed. “I have the weapon. I stand in front. Understand, wero’ika?”

“Fine.” You replied. You recognized the sound of Mando’a but didn’t know the word he used. It didn’t linger long in your mind though. The two of you were pushing down the alley and despite the Mandalorian telling you to keep quiet you continued to yell out Elodie’s name. More blaster fire, getting closer, made your heart pound even harder in your chest. “Elodie!”

“I said you need to⏤” The faint sound of a response only barely reached your ears and you shushed the Mandalorian. “Did you just⏤” You shushed him again and tried to listen. His next word came out in an irritated growl. “Wero’ika.”

“I hear her. I hear Elodie.” You blurted and sprinted past him.

His thundering footsteps stayed only a step behind you and the Mando’a words he was spitting out under his breath were all the curse words you had heard Din use a time or two. You came to the edge of an alley, right where the blaster fire was loudest, and the Mandalorian shoved you behind him once more just in time for a bolt to bounce off his beskar covered chest. Your eyes frantically scanned the street and it took you three times before your eyes found the little blonde girl tucked in a ball and sobbing as people fired over her head.

“There!” You took a step forward to try and peer out but the Mandalorian yanked you back barking something out in Mando’a. “I wasn’t gonna run out there yet! I was trying to see if there was a path I could use to get to her.”

“I will lay cover fire and you will use that time to get to the girl. Do not,” He emphasized the command, “Leave that spot until I come to you.” You nodded once, but he did not budge. “Speak. Do you understand me, wero’ika?”

“Yes! Yes, alright!”

The Mandalorian grunted once in approval then he stepped out of the alley. The black turrent he was holding open fire and the red bolts leaving it rapidly was a sight to behold. So shocked by the weapon’s range of destruction you paused until he barked out at you. Elodie. Right. You sprinted out of the alley and made a beeline for her hiding spot. The Mandalorian was firing to your right, where the pirates stood, but to your left was a wall of Mandalorians. At least three of them. Had Din brought an army of his kind?

You slid to your knees beside Elodie, setting the blaster down, and wrapped your arms around her. She screamed and squirmed, but you held on tight. “Elodie! Sweetie! It’s me! You’re safe!” You yelled over the loud blaster fire. “You’re alright!”

Her wide eyes, filled to the brim with watery fear, landed on your face and she began buried her face in your chest with sobs. Elodie’s injured arm was still wrapped up with the splint but blood was seeping through the bandage once more. You could barely understand her through her cries.

“Ms. Wynn⏤ She⏤ We⏤”

“I know, sweetie. You’re okay.” You tried to reassure her even as your stomach flipped at the mention of her teacher’s name. “Come on.” You scooped her up into your arms and she wrapped her right arm around your neck in a death grip. “Keep your head down, Elodie. Alright? Don’t look up. Just close your eyes and keep your head down.”

You felt her nod against your shoulder and shifted so you’d be crouched down, out of range, but ready to go when the Mandalorian got to you. Big Blue, as you were so kindly referring to him in your head, was still firing at the pirates but was making steady steps in your direction. The other Mandalorians continued to drift up to add to his onslaught and when they stepped side by side with him, Big Blue peeled off to rush to you.

“Up!” He grunted, and you didn’t hesitate to listen to him then. With Elodie in your arms, you rose up and Big Blue spun you around to march toward the city’s edge and away from the battle. He kept his body pressed close to your back and every once in a while you’d hear him grunt as blaster fire pinged off his beskar.

The three of you shifted around a mess of debris when suddenly a pirate jumped into your path. Big Blue reacted quicker than you did and he spun the both of you around so his back was acting as a shield once more. You fell to your ass, with him draped over you in protection, as the pirate rained blaster fire onto the man. On more instinct than thought, you let go of Elodie with one arm to grab the blaster tucked in Big Blue’s holster and after flicking off the safety you rapidly pulled the trigger blindly. It took multiple bolts before you heard the pirate cry out in pain and the attack ended. Big Blue glanced over his shoulder and once pleased with what he saw he shifted off of you.

“Mirdala, wero’ika.” Big Blue grunted with a nod of approval. You held his gun out to him which he took and re-holstered then he reached down to bring you back onto your feet. The sound of an explosion made you both jump in alarm, but it came from the Corsair overhead. You watched in shock as the smoking vehicle began to careen into the side of the mountain Nevarro City was nestled against and go up into fire and ash. “Come.” Big Blue pulled you to his side to try and get you moving again. “We still need to get you both to safety.”

As Big Blue guided you through the streets and the sight of the lava plains came into view, a breath of weary relief left you. The Mandalorian next to you caught you off guard by setting his hand on your shoulder and giving it a small squeeze.

The fight was over. Your brain supplied familiar words that Din had said to you once before.

The danger has passed.

Din was frantic. After landing the N1, and leaving a crying Grogu with Peli, he began to rush through the throngs of civilians looking for a familiar face. Looking for your face. As the seconds ticked by fear gripped him tighter and tighter. What if he had been too late? What if you were still in the city? Shoving past people, more roughly than he probably should have, he finally spotted someone who could point him in the right direction.

“Vanth!” Din barked and rushed to where the man was seated on a makeshift cot. He looked worse for wear. One arm was wrapped in a sling and dried blood was splattered in his hair on the right side of his head where a line of staples held together an ugly gash.

Vanth’s bloodshot eyes glanced up and at the sight of Din he shakily rose. “Hey, brother. You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

“Are you alright?” Din asked and after Vanth nodded, in the same breath, he added, “Where is she?”

Din didn’t need to clarify who. Vanth swallowed roughly and let out a haggard sigh, “I don’t know, Mando.” His blood ran cold. “Last I heard, Mayfeld is on the search for her. I got put out of commission pretty early in the fight.” Vanth winced with every breath and word spoken. “Little doc junior, Aayla, has been patching everyone up best she can since…”

Since you were missing.

“The fight is over now. Anybody hiding in the city will start coming out.” Vanth tried to reassure him but it fell on deaf ears. “Mando⏤”

“Sit. Rest.” Din carefully pushed Vanth back onto the cot before moving on.

He’d scour the entire city if he had to. Din would tear down any remaining buildings left standing if it meant finding you. This was what he did, right? He hunted. His rushed steps were nothing like the calm and collected image he tried to uphold as he hurried towards the city. All his worst fears seemed to be crumbling down on him and the beskar he wore felt suffocating. Din pushed out of the crowd, nearly broke out into a sprint, when he hard your voice. Faint. It really made no sense that he’d even be able to hear it over the lively crowd and the pounding of his heart in his ears.

However, as if drawn to it, his feet came to a stop and he turned. There you were. The parents of Grogu’s friend from school were sobbing hysterically as they held a little girl in their arms. You stood right in front of them with Paz a step behind you. It was an odd sight that left Din with more questions than answers, but all his mind could focus on was you. The rest of the world may as well have grown blurry and dim.

You were in a pair of your scrubs but they were dirty and torn. Dried blood stained the front and sides. Your hair was a mess and even from the distance he was at, he could see the exhaustion radiating from your frame. Din was moving before his mind was even aware of his body’s choice. It was you. You were right there. You were standing. You were breathing. You were safe. Maker, Din felt his heart leap up into his throat as he struggled for a gasp of relief.

Din couldn’t find his voice to cry out to you, but as if you were drawn to him as well you turned and met his gaze. His feet stuttered at the sight. Dried blood covered your features, mixed with dust and soot, and there was a wound on your hairline he could see clearly. The skin around your neck was darkened with bruising. You looked like you were in shambles, but that fire he loved still remained in your gaze. Your pretty eyes burned with life and energy and determination.

“Din!” You cried and he didn’t even register the fact that you called out his name in public. He was too thankful to hear it in your voice once more. You broke out into a sprint, to meet him halfway, and as soon as you were close enough Din snatched you into his arms in a bruising grip. Your arms wrapped tightly around his neck as your face buried into his shoulder and if Din wasn’t so worried about jarring any of your current injuries he would’ve crushed you even tighter in his hold. “Din, I⏤ Din. Din.” Your body shook with sobs as you struggled to find words. For a beat all that could spill out was his name, but every time the sound left your lips Din felt the tight coil of fear in his chest loosen. “You’re here.”

“I am. I am, ner kar’ta, and I’m never leaving again.” He murmured to you. A promise. Din’s gloved hand buried itself in the back of your hair to pull you even closer. It took all of his strength to not rip his helmet off right now. Redemption be damned. “Ni ceta, ner kar’ta. I’m sorry. I am so sorry. I should have been here.”

The only reason he was able to tear himself away from you was to examine your wounds. The injury at your hairline had scabbed over and it seemed the only other injury you had were the faint bruising around your neck. It would worsen before it got better and it was not lost on Din that the darker shade was in the shape of a hand.

“Who?” The word left his lips in a near growl. Din cupped your face and tried to swipe away tears, dried blood, and soot. His hand trailed down to lightly brush against your neck. “Who did this?”

“One of the⏤ One of the pirates. It’s a long story, I⏤” You took in a shaky breath and Din could see how close you were to crumbling. “He’s dead. I… I shot him. With the blaster I keep in my desk. I shot him.” Good. Din could see the heartbreak in your eyes, the pain, and he hated more than anything that responsibility had fallen onto your shoulders. That you had been forced into that position. Truly, you had done the pirate a favor⏤ shown him mercy. Because if he were still breathing, Din would tear the bastard apart limb from limb. “I lost your blaster. I’m so sorry⏤”

“Don’t. Stop.” Din leaned his head down to press his forehead against yours. He took in a slow breath. You were here. You were safe. You were in his arms. Din’s heart finally began to calm. “All that matters is you.”

Your hands had found his neck and the way your fingers dug through his collar told him that you were as desperate as he was for skin to skin contact. Din just needed to reassure himself that you were fine. He wanted to run his hands over every inch of you to ensure that nothing was wrong. That you were fine. It was a craving not born of lust, but concern.

“Grogu.” You breathed out in a ragged gasp. “Where’s Grogu? I need to see him. I need⏤” Din’s eyes darted over your shoulder where Elodie’s parents were still smothering their child. Something had happened in the city, you had obviously saved that girl in some way, and Din knew your desperation to see Grogu had something to do with that. “Din?”

“He’s alright. He’s safe.” Din wrapped his arm around you tightly, not willing to let go quite yet, and began to lead you back through the crowd to find where Peli was. People called out comments of relief and comfort to you as he led you through. It seemed he hadn't been the only one worried about you.

The sound of Grogu’s cries could be heard and you rushed out of Din’s arms to find the source, “Grogu!?” Din paused as he spotted Peli holding the boy as you rushed toward them. Grogu’s cries were halted and replaced with panicked wailing as he squirmed out of Peli’s arms to jump into yours. You collapsed to the ground with the boy buried in your chest. “Hey, baby. I’m here. I was so worried about you.”

Grogu continued to cry as you whispered reassurances to him. A small smile pulled up the corner of Din’s lips. For the first time in hours, he felt his shoulders relax. He took a step forward, to join his family, when familiar steps settled beside him. Paz crossed his arms and watched the reunion between you and Grogu as well.

“She saved that little girl.” Paz spoke with a hum. “She’s brave. Reckless, but brave.”

“I know.” Din replied, beaming with pride. Everything he had said to the Armorer had been true. You may not have taken the oath, walked the Way, or adorned a helmet, but you were Mandalorian through and through. It was in your spirit and soul.

Paz nodded. “That is the one you spoke of? The woman you plan to court?”

“Yes.” Din didn’t add that you were the woman he planned to marry as well. It didn’t need to be said now or like this. Just knowing was enough for him.

“But you have yet to present her with a token of intention?”

“Not…yet.” Din turned his head to look at his brother with suspicion. .

“Hm. Perhaps, I’ll offer her a token first.” Paz chuckled. Din barked out a curse and it only made Paz laugh harder. You had risen from the ground and glanced over at the noise. Paz slapped his hand roughly against Din’s back, making him stumble, and then gave you a firm nod. “Good work, wero’ika. I was proud to share the battlefield with you.”

Din continued to glare at Paz’s retreating figure, but at the sound of your approach his gaze softened. You were still holding Grogu close to your chest as if you were afraid someone would come and snatch him away. Din understood the irrational fear. It was why as soon as you were in reach he pulled you and Grogu into his own arms. With another sigh, Din let his eyes flutter close as he rested his head on top of yours while you leaned into his chest. You were safe. His family was back together.

What more could he ask for?

mando'a translations

Ni ceta: I'm sorry Mirdala: clever Wero'ika: little problem Ner kar'ta: my heart

taglist:

@aheadfullofsteverogers @yyiikes @kneelforloki @c-ms1ut @sgt-morgan @luthienaliceisilraa @fawn-kitten @missbabyjay @coldlamaspersonspy @dilfsaremyfavourite @jamesbuckybarnes @yorkeylover @teawrites01 @emily-roberts @djarinxore @impala1967666 @shelbyteller @faithrenner @dindjarindude @dankfarrick29 @rh1nestonecowg1rl @garbo-lesbo @anythingforattention @tearfulsolace @onceinamando @catharinaroxastova @uwu-i-purple-you @modiddys-blog @stagerightlauren @mini-bees @xxinvisblexx @adoringanakin @sagegreensensei @spidey-3 @sydney-1209 @thepascalofus @hrtsforpascal @banana-lol @daybleedsintonightfall11 @lil-dragon-draws @guccistardust @ideajpeg @harriedandharassed @leithatnight @elfamosotoga @damnzelsoul @the-anchored-sailor-girl @morks-watermelon @katelynmarieyt @taylorann2013 @chonkercatto @dheet @liadamerondjarin @fallinallinmendes @missdicaprio @jennaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa @alphaash99 @djarinsmixtape @pcrushinnerd @closedaddition @thelovelyhann @harrys-sunflower-bakery @mayaaaaah @theway-thisis @javicstories @ezzynf @bravotwelve @cookielovesbook-akie @coolbanana44 @kittenlittle24

#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #a fresh start #mando x reader #mando x you #reader insert #mando #mandalorian fanfic #mandalorian x you #mandalorian x reader #female reader

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landograndprix · 1 year

Text

belong with me ✾ c.s

summary – Carlos simply doesn't care about what people have to say about him, at the end of the day you choose to be with him.

requested – yes! – I would love to see a Carlos insta au where no one can believe he’s dating a supermodel and everyone’s always reminding him about how she’s so far out of his league !!!

☆☆☆☆☆

y/nusername

liked by carlossainz55 and 1,021,672 others

y/nusername working hard or hardly working? 🍷

tagged: vogueitalia

view all 2.789 comments

hannaahhh 😍😍😍😍

charloss_5516 so this is Carlos' new girlfriend? 😭

chilisainzz apparently!

charloss_5516 well goddamn how did he bag her, lmao no offense but she's way out of his league 😂

chilisainzz I'm sure y/n thinks differently ;)

zoeyeee marry me pls

lauren11 how does it feel to live my dream life? 🥲

c55rlossainz Carlos you lucky bastard

norrisfour4 hope Carlos can fight because I sure can

carlossainz55 ❤️‍🔥

charles16l simp

y/nusername 💕

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y/nusername

liked by carlossainz55, francisca.cgomes and 1,237,812 others

y/nusername thank you milan, you always treat me right ♡

view all 2,983 comments

francisca.cgomes you looked stunning, like always ❤️

y/nusername take a look at yourself love ❤️

bott_ass omg she's already becoming besties with the other wags 😭

hazel1999 I'm pretty sure they were friends before y/n got with Carlos? Also pretty sure it's kika who introduced her to Carlos..

sharllekler @/hazell1999 yep, that's what y/n low-key said during one of her lives the other day ☺

bott_ass @/sharllekler did she talk about Carlos? 👀

sharllekler @/bott_ass not by name but she said she was seeing someone but we all know it's Carlos 😂

lewishamilton you killed it out there ❤️

y/nusername thank you lewis, glad you could make it! ❤️

ynfan88 god you're so pretty, I'm going to cry 😢

sashaaax stunning! 😍😍

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carlossainz55 posted on their story

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y/nusername

liked by pierregasly, carlossainz55 and 1,524,781 others

y/nusername thank you @/elle_spain, it was an honor to work with the team. Issue will be out soon ♡

tagged: elle_spain

y/nfan11 goddamn that's my wife y'alls 🥵

gisellev i wont be able to read it because i cant speak spanish :((

zhouey24 same but im sure there's people out there who will translate it! ☺

Carlossainz55 ay ay ay cariño, I am so lucky 😍

carlito55 boy we get it, you like her 😂

ynfam89 personally think she could so better but yea..

carlitosainz55 good thing they don't need your opinion ;)

francisca.cgomes stunning! 💕

☆☆☆☆☆

scuderiaferrari

liked by y/nusername and 176,542 others

scuderiaferrari appreciation post for our favorite chili 🌶 🇪🇸

#cs55

tagged: carlossainz55

view all 315 comments

chilisainz that's my man 😍

tifosired 🔥 🔥 🔥

sharl16lekler post something about Charles again pls..

cs55 open your eyes? they posted something about him a couple hours ago.

y/nusername like Paris Hilton once said: that's hot 😍

ferraricharlos so true bestie

norry4 she said lemme simp for my man real quick 🥰

marianaxo girl you can do so much better..

ferraricharlos @/marianaxo girl stfu we all know you want carlos so badly get in line my god

marianaxo she's know she deserves better because she doesn't even go out with him. When have we seen them together?

y/nusername yes, red is my favorite color 🌶

scuderiaferrari and red looks good on you 👏

zoeyoxox ferrari admin flirting with carlos' girlfriend?

norry4 I think they're implying that she looks good with carlos but wouldn't blame admin though 😂

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y/nusername

liked by carlossainz55, landonorris and 1,092,561 others

y/nusername summer with the best there is ♡♡

tagged: carlossainz55

view all 1,423 comments

ynfan30 loving the dream ❤️

carlito55 cute, I'm going take my toaster for a bath :((

lesainz fr I'm joining you :(

carlossainz55 te amo cariño ❤️‍🔥

y/nusername yo también te amo ❤️‍🔥

charlos1655 god I'm so lonely..

francisca.cgomes cuties 🥰

y/nusername 🥰

jasonnn6 no way that ferrari's second driver managed to bag y/n..

carlosandyn that 2nd driver has a name and yes, he did 'bag' y/n 😉

Jasonnn6 lucky bastard

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y/nusername

liked by scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc and 1,366,892 others

y/nusername 't was red this weekend 🏎

tagged: scuderiaferrari, carlossainz55

view all 1,567 comments

scuderiaferrari welcome to the family y/n!

y/nusername ❤️❤️

y/nfan3 okay fine, I'll watch f1 😜

bott_ass how is it to live my dream life???

norstappen finally she's using the paddock as her catwalk 😍

jacksonb carlos you lucky bastard, y/n fucking y/l/n?

car55 still don't think they're a match tho

landoscar and I think they still don't care about your opinion 😇

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y/nusername

liked by carlossainz55, francisca.cgomes and 1,145,772 others

y/nusername best of the best ❤️‍🔥

tagged: carlossainz55

view all 1,003 comments

carlossainz55 ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

sainzcharlie1655 I'm not jealous, you are

zhouey24 jealous of who though, carlos or y/n?👀

sainzcharlie1655 I haven't figured that out yet 😂

denisevxox 🥰🥰🥰

grussell63 hmmm 🤔

leclerc_16 the best of the best, as in no one will bet better so I think it's safe to say it's time we stop with the whole she's out of his league bs ☺

#carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz #cs55 #carlos sainz au

996 notes · View notes

fancyfeathers · 3 months

Note

I am very invested in your William and author reader fanfic, I must say it is very interesting. Would it be alright if I trouble you a little?

May you write a chapter where reader has gone missing right, and reader does actually outsmart William for the very first time? to the point where HE'S the one crawling back?? and is amazed? and begging her to come back? and she's not having it.

If it is too much, you may ignore this>

Thank you. Love you sm!!!

YES!!! Omg yes, I already started thinking about this with the idea of her being in a writer’s club or friends with other authors like J.R.R. Tolkien and C.S. Lewis who would help each other with their works and what not.

So like her friends who heard about her disappearance and after writing mysteries and murders alongside her, they are completely ready to find her.

And Then There Were None (Yandere William James Moriarty /w Author Darling Masterlist)

No one would be able to tell anything was wrong at first glance when they saw William James Moriarty, to anyone outside they would see nothing wrong, to anyone besides Louis and Albert he would still behaving as normal…

But his brothers, William is on edge, but in the best way possible, like when Sherlock is at his heels and all because his darling beat him at his own game, truly remarkable. He thought that she would only be off for a week or two but over a month has passed and every time he thought he found something the trail ran cold. Then the cherry on top of it all was every hint he found that ran cold related back to her books, like she was mocking him and what he had done…

And it was thrilling.

Then one evening after William had returned home from teaching at the college, Louis had also returned home from the market and fight as he was going to unpack-

A letter fell from the basket, and it was addressed to a Professor William James Moriarty, the name inked in red pen.

Louis handed the letter off to William when he was speaking to Albert in the drawing room over tea, telling him it was in the basket but he had never knew it was there, so someone must have slipped it in. William opened the letter as he sat up straight in his chair…

“I'm where the drama unfolds with arias grand,

Where masks may conceal a mysterious hand.

Within these walls, stories old and new,

Echo in halls with a theatrical view.

Where am I found? Seek the stage's grand spree,

Where performers enchant with operatic glee.”

Meet us at the answer at 8:00 PM tomorrow night, show them the letter and they will let you in. Bring your brothers, or leave them, I really do not care.

The letter was not signed, but the riddle was written in the same red ink, slightly smeared. The answer was obvious, an opera house, the question was who sent this and why? It was clear it was connected to his darling, so hopefully this was not a trail that goes cold.

So William follows the instructions hoping alone since this was obviously going to be a passive encounter since it was in public, and upon arriving to the theater and seeing all the members of the audience flocking inside, the sender was among the crowd.

While the other patrons showed their tickets to the staff at the door, he showed the letter and a small smile comes across the man’s face as he tells William to go to box five and that they were already waiting for them. Then as William made his way to the box and pushes open the door to see two individuals, a gentlemen reading a newspaper and William could tell was years old, and then sitting next to the man was her, his darling. Then as the door shuts behind the professor, the one reading the paper speaks up without looking at him.

“A counterweight supporting an opera house's chandelier fell through the roof and crashed into the audience, injuring several people and killing one. Imagine if it was the actual chandelier instead, what would have happened? What do you think, Professor Moriarty?”

“It would have resulted in a fire most likely, and due to the unique design of the chandelier more people would have gotten injured and certainly more than one would have died-“

“Hm, I thought so as well, good to know what I wrote in my book then was accurate.”

William glances at his darling who is just sitting there, not looking or speaking to him. The other man laughs at this and sets his paper down to look at the professor, a gleeful smile across his face.

“She almost refused to come, but we need to have closure on this whole affair so we can move on with our lives. A shame though, I quite enjoyed tracking her down with the others, it was like a competition to figure out what happened to her and who did it, and a bonus to beat the culprit at their own game, and it seems like I was the one to win, Professor William.”

William’s eyes drifted to where his darling sat in the box, her eyes still not going to meet the man who was publicly called her husband but who was in reality her worst nightmare.

“And if I may ask, how do you two know each other?”

“At an university funny enough, we were both invited to give lectures on our shared field of expertise, we became friends almost immediately and exchanged letter for a number of years when I lived in France, along with meeting up with a few of our colleagues to review our work-.”

“So you are an author as well, I do not think I have read any of your works.”

“Hm, that is a shame seeing as this meeting point revolved around my masterpiece, but I suppose you would like to cut to the chase.”

“Yes, as fun as this has been, I would rather her return-“

“Return with you? But that would mean you won, but you clearly did not, you lost. I invited you here so we can put this behind us.”

The man cut him off with a smile as if nothing was wrong, and it sent an almost thrilling shiver down William’s spine. He was about to reply to the man but then-

“Could you please leave William and I alone?”

She spoken up for the first time during this entire meeting, her eyes now snapping to glance at William for the briefest moments. The man gunned in response to her, standing up from his chair to leave the box, but as he passed William, he grabbed his shoulder-

“You may know how to murder people but rest assured so do I, after all both her and I write about it for a living. So try anything and I promise one of your friends will not be alive in the morning.”

The man’s cheerful tone had all but faded away and William hummed in acknowledgment to the threat right as he slipped out of the opera box, leaving William and his darling.

“Do not worry, he is bluffing, he does not have the heart to kill and nor do I.”

“Dearest…”

“I… I wanted to say goodbye, I figured it would be to cruel not to even after all the times you have done to me.”

“And how long do you think you can run?”

“Longer and faster than you can, and that became clear in my absence, you could not find me, so I think I will be fine. But I suppose if you find me again it is fair game, so… hm, what was that thing you told Mr. Holmes on the train with Louis and I that one time…”

She hums for a moment as she stands up from her seat, adjusting the gloves she wore as she prepared to leave. She stand before the Lord of Crime, looking him dead in the eye.

“Catch me if you can, Professor Moriarty.”

With that, she walked passed him, leaving the box and him alone as a smile came across his face…

“Oh you smart little thing…”

#william moriarty x reader #moriarty the patriot x reader #yuukoku no moriarty x reader #yuukoku no moriarty #william james moriarty x reader #yandere william james moriarty #yandere moriarty the patriot #yandere yuukoku no moriarty

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momentsbeforemass · 5 months

Text

In name only

In today’s Gospel, Jesus warns about opposition. About the pushback that always comes whenever we try to live our Faith.

Some people love the pushback that comes with division. They’re addicted to casting themselves as heroic figures taking a stand against…something.

So they use their beliefs as wedge issues to create it.

Weaponizing their faith to separate people (even fellow believers) into supporters and opponents. Us versus them.

Purity testing so they can brand people as “Christians in name only.”

That’s not what Jesus is talking about. How do I know this? Two big reasons.

First, purity testing is idiotic. Because, as St. Paul tells us, “All have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.” None of us can pass the test.

We don’t like admitting it, but none of us deserve any of the graces that God so extravagantly pours out on us. None of us are good enough, on our own (hint – what was Good Friday about?).

God’s extravagance flows out of God’s love for us. Not out of any merit we might think we have.

The most common response to this by fans of purity testing? The silly (and unbiblical) practice of comparing sins.

Claiming that someone else’s sins are worthy of damnation. While smugly lying to ourselves about how what we’re doing is no big deal. Probably not even really a sin.

C.S. Lewis rebuts this nonsense brilliantly in the Screwtape Letters.

“It does not matter how small the sins are provided that their cumulative effect is the edge the man away from the Light…Indeed the safest road to Hell is the gradual one – the gentle slope, soft underfoot, without sudden turnings, without milestones, without signposts.”

The other big reason? Today’s Gospel is part of a larger teaching. The same one where Jesus commands those of us who would follow Him to “Love one another, as I have loved you.”

Sort of the opposite of weaponized faith and wedge issues.

Because “Love one another, as I have loved you” is missing something. Something that we all too readily read into it – Exceptions. Qualifiers. Disclaimers.

The way we live our lives? It’s like we think it says, “Love one another, as I have loved you, except for ___.” And then we fill in the blank with whoever we’re playing us versus them games with.

Why? In a word, pride. The oldest and dreariest sin.

The one that always ends up with us worshipping ourselves.

Whenever we start smuggling in exceptions. So we can feel better about ourselves, by pretending we’re better than someone else. We’ve fallen victim to pride.

And if we keep going down that road?

We’ll soon find that we are the Christians in name only.

Today’s Readings

#Christians in name only #Love one another #Exceptions #C.S. Lewis #G.K. Chesterton #God #Jesus #Catholic #Christian #Church #Christianity #Catholicism #Moments Before Mass

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shesjustanothergeek · 1 year

Text

His Love

|Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader|

Part Eleven

Master List of Series

Summary: Being a bastard born in the slums of Flea Bottom was all you were known for. Not the streak of white you had in your dark hair, the violet ring around your pupils, or how your sharp tongue and skills with the blade resembled your father, Daemon Targaryen. You were just a bastard, nothing more, but to him, to Aegon Targaryen, you were everything. You were his love.

Author's Note: I'm so happy I'm actually able to upload once a week now! I'm sure you guys are too. xD This story and the support it has gotten is one of the only reasons I stuck through my severe depression. I feel like this character has so much to say. She's all the women who have been a victim of men. She's the breaker of the generational cycles of misogyny women before her suffered. She was weak and powerless because of the systems put in place, but not anymore. Many women throughout actual history have been written out, forgotten, or replaced by men.

P.S. I decided to feature some Middle English dialogue to make things sound more ~fancy~ when it comes to written words. Also note that starting from this point on, everything that happens in the story is throughout two and a half years.

Translation Guide: Perzītsos: Little Flame. Muña: Mother or mom. Sōvēs: Fly. Prithee: Middle English for please.

Chapter Warnings: Jace is a turdy younger brother, and the italics when speaking is High Valyrian, which I didn't feel like butchering the translation of.

"I sat with my anger long enough until she told me her real name was grief."- C.S. Lewis.

You strolled along the halls of Dragonstone, content and relaxed with your arms clasped behind your grey-blue dress, parchment that you haphazardly wrapped together in your hands. It had been freezing these past few days, and you had to bring out some of your winter gowns.

It was always so cold here on the island. Even in the scorching summer heat, there was always a chill in the breeze. It was nothing like Kings Landing. Though the air was icy, it was clean, with a free-flowing salty smoke smell that wafted through the cracks in the walls instead of the sticky, humid stench of sweat that permeated over all of Kings Landing.

As servants dressed in the traditional bright red garments passed you, each bowed, stopping for their Princess. Even though you were still just a bastard in their hearts, they treated you respectfully, as if you weren't. You had done more in your years here at Dragonstone than they could ever wish to accomplish in their lives.

You had claimed a dragon, the fiercest and most wild one ever to conquer the Westrosi skies. You studied history and philosophy, mastering your ancestor's natural tongue quicker than any of your brothers. You learned to wield the sword as a man, besting serval of the knights that tried you.

When lords and envoys came, negotiating imports and exports between the Island and that of the mainland, seeking to manipulate the heir to the Iron Throne simply because she had teats instead of a cock, you advised her, observing through hidden passages inside the walls and whispering to your mother what you thought.

You were brilliant, too clever for your own good; Daemon would often say, warning you about the dangers of a man's ego. There was no wrath like a man whose pride was wounded. They had started wars over the fact.

"Perzītsos!" Rhaenyra called out to you as you entered the Chamber. A topographical map of Westeros carved into a sturdy wood, each set of land painted in different colors. Quickly, you shoved the letter up your sleeve, hiding it from your parent's eyes.

"Good morn, Muña. What appears to be on the agenda today?" You smiled at your mother, bending forward to give her a peck on the cheek, continuing to keep the letter out of view.

She sighed through her nose, leaning her palms on the table. "Your father has made it his current obsession to support the troops battling in the Stepstones. An opinion in which I agree but not many others share," she said, shaking her head.

"You speak as if I have no ears," Daemon commented like an upset child, crossing his arms.

"Those stuffy cunts of the Small Council won't do anything unless the war is upon their hearth," you spoke in High Valyrian, an annoyed stare directed at the Lords surrounding the Painted Table. "Inaction at the face of those in need aid the oppressor," you declared, now speaking in the common tongue and moving your body to become eye level with your mother.

From his place across the table, Ser Steffon Darkling grinned wistfully, reminiscing at your untainted conviction. It was a quality after years of serving the crown he had lost.

"Despite what you and your father believe," your mother began, finally addressing Daemon, who stood proudly to the side, "we cannot simply send men to the battlefield. There is a process we have to follow, people we have to sway to our side that have historically refused to do anything in the Stepstones."

Daemon scoffed, rolling his eyes as he shifted his stance. Rhaenyra did the same at his immaturity, sticking her nose in the air. They, indeed, were a match made by the Gods.

As heated discussion commenced, you observed the advisors bickering at one another, their hands wildly gesturing as they spoke. You listened intently to their words while staring at the map, tracings the lines with your pupils as the parchment scratched at your wrist. Supplies were most critical for Lord Corlys than actual swords, you gathered from their arguments, biting your lip as you listened to the options people spouted.

Everything they said was nonsense, some wanting to wait until the Hand accepted their petitions which would be a death sentence for all who occupied those disputed islands.

"The crown will not supply men without consent of the Small Council and the King. That is something we cannot change," you interrupted, looking at each of their surprised faces. "But we still owe it to our Valyrian brothers to help them in anyway we can." As they watched, eyes bulging out of their sockets at your instruction, you twisted your arms behind your back to straighten your posture. "They have been steadfast supporters of the crown going back decades, and they are family." Your voice softened towards the end, staring into your mother's and father's eyes. "It is our duty and honor to do what we can to aid their efforts."

"And what do you suggest then, Princess," an advisor, Lord Bartimos Celtigar, interrupted.

You eyed the older man coldly. He was an unrelenting, incorruptible, and highly wealthy Lord—years of commanding people with ingenious strategies from his towers. Daemon had told you that your mother would need an ally when she ascended the throne.

"We have three able-bodied dragon riders, do we not," you questioned him with an arched brow. "Prince Daemon, myself, and my brother Prince Jacaerys will escort our fleet of ships with supplies—weaponry, food, clothing, healing salves, anything they might need."

"Prithee, Princess, where we would acquire such supplies." Lord Bartimos laughed condescendingly to the sky, the black fur lining his coat shining in the daylight as he shook his head at nothing. It was your turn to smile, showing your teeth as you revealed the elegant paper.

"I have received a raven, Lord Celtigar, from Kings Landing." You quickly looked at your parents simultaneously as their heads snapped toward you and smiled apologetically. You could see Daemon's fury at the secret you kept from him but refused to wither under his gaze. "I was invited to Prince Aegon's name day celebration. Personally," you spoke, your posture stiff and your chin held high. "While there, I will talk with my Grandsire and the Council to ensure our supplies and safe travels."

Bartimos laughed again, grabbing the bronze chalice of mead he had sat down and taking a quick drink. "You believe you can convince the King, let alone the Small Council, to give us aid to the Stepstones," he scoffed and faced Rhaenyra. "I mean no disrespect to his majesty, but we realize it is not him sitting on the Iron Throne; the Hand is. And it will not matter to him what you petition. They have consistently denied ever becoming involved in the Stepstones."

"My father is still the King, despite with rumors you may have heard," Rhaenyra defended, "and your blatant disrespect of him will not be forgotten." She turned to you with a bittersweet but proud smile as she stroked the long, intricate braids on your head. "You have grown wise and strong, perzītsos. You have my approval to go."

Daemon continued to stare at you, unable to hold his gaze. Your eyes darted to the silver buttons on his tunic as he brushed your mother aside and gripped your arms firmly. He was unyielding as Rhaenyra dismissed the meeting until tomorrow.

"You received a letter from Kings Landing?" He leaned down, whispering heatedly in your face. You nodded, a guilty expression covering your features. "When did you think about telling me this, hmm? Have you forgotten what they did to you?" He questioned harshly.

"My love," Rhaenyra whispered, stroking a gentle hand along his shoulder blade. He calmed instantly, inhaling as he let go, his fists clenching at his sides.

"Though it has been years, I have not forgotten what they did," you scowled, stepping away from him. "I know Otto Hightower will be the hardest to sway. His great disdain for our family and us is not unknown to me, but he will have no other choice than to yield once Grandsire and I speak."

Your father huffed and looked away, a childish act from a grown man, as Rhaenyra smiled gratefully. "I am so proud of you, sweet girl," she said kindly, tears forming in her eyes. "You are ever the grown woman, cunning and wit and beauty. I have no doubt you will bring us what we need."

"Thank you, mother." You tried not to show how deeply her words moved you, swallowing a lump in your throat as your cheeks and ears heated. You bowed, exiting as Daemon gave you one last unamused look before Rhaenyra turned sharply toward him.

***

You had read that letter at least a hundred times before you attended the meeting, the contents coming as quite the shock, making your knees buckle over each sentence. It was not addressed to your family as invitations like this should be, but directly to you, from the Queen herself.

Initially, you had come to the Chamber to inform your parents of the note, hardening your heart as you shoved any empathy regarding what Queen Alicent had asked of you and thinking this could be useful to them.

A knock sounded at your door, gentle yet firm as you bid them enter, folding the letter into your lap. Daemon's lithe form crowded the doorway, light from the hall outlining his silhouette as his boots thudded on the stone floor. You refused to acknowledge his presence.

"I came to apologize," he spoke, but you ignored him, still turning your head away and walking to your desk, shutting the letter inside a drawer. "Twas... wrong of me to have acted in such a manner."

Finally, you faced him, looking at his taut expression and putting your fists on your waist.

"That sounded painful, Father," you teased, though you still hid anger beneath your smirk. "I shall call Maester Gerardys to fix you some healing tea."

Your father sighed, dragging his feet to an armchair near the stone fireplace and plopping in it. He cradled his head in his palms, sighing profoundly and moving his body in your direction. Moments like these were the only times you saw the actual inner workings of your father. Alone and after he has made a mistake. You sat in the seat across from him, staring at his aged face and white shoulder-length hair as he thought over his words.

"I should not have acted the way I did," he began, sighing as if he was disappointed with himself as he studied the small orange flames before him. "I forget, sometimes, that you are not like them. Those cunts at court who seek to undermine I and Rhaenyra's claim to the throne."

"Mother's claim to the throne," you corrected, and Daemon grunted, nodding his head curtly.

"The Hightowers seek to undermine your mother's right. They have believed since Aegon was born that he should be named heir because he is a male. Years of precedent my brother had set tossed aside simply for a boy who does not want it nor deserve it."

You looked away, moving your gaze from him to the floor as you chewed your lip. He was right. Everyone in the realm felt the uncertainty of Rhaenyra's claim, but no one believed the Hightowers would actively try to supplant her beside Daemon... and now you. You couldn't trust them not to take advantage of such an opportunity because you knew Daemon himself would if given a chance. You had experienced the evil they could commit, something you believed your father would never do, how the Queen turned a blind eye to the Hand's decision to murder and publicly shame people you loved.

"My invitation to Kings Landing could be more advantageous than I thought," you said aloud. Daemon did not outwardly acknowledge your words. Only the ghost of a smirk let you know he was listening.

"If Prince Aegon does not want the crown," you said to yourself more than anything, "what is preventing them from crowning him any way upon Grandsire's death? With enough persuasion the Prince could change his mind. A glutton would surely not turn away a feast simply because someone said no."

"We have preparations set in place for that moment. The bells will be rung upon his death, and a raven will be sent here to summon Rhaenyra for her corination." Daemon shrugged, watching the dwindling fire before him. You looked at him perplexed.

"That is all," you questioned, and he nodded.

"And honor, I suppose," he offered half-heartedly. "The lords of the kingdom have sworn fealty to her. In everyone else's minds, the matter is set."

"Do you think a man such as Otto Hightower, a man who has been removed from his position once before for conspiring in his own self-interests, has honor?" You abruptly stood, pacing between the fire and Daemon as you crossed your arms, pulling the skin off your lip. "He will do everything in his power to keep Mother off the throne and crown someone who is his kin. There has to be more done to secure Mother's place and make sure there are no doubts about secession after Grandsire's death."

You were irate, vividly gesturing as you thought of what to do, of what plans to make. On the other hand, your father sat still, completely unmoving, as the light danced over his pale skin. You became irritated at his lack of response, kicking his boot in frustration.

"What do you suggest we do, daughter? There is only so much one can in such a short time. A name day celebration only lasts till the next morrow's dawn, and it would be improper to stay longer than customary."

Your mind stopped at his words, glancing over at your mahogany desk. There would be a way for you to stay longer, long enough to change preparations to ensure a smooth succession.

"I am certain there is a way I can arrange for a greater," you paused, looking at your father's sitting form, "stay. If you are willing to let me, of course," you hastily added.

A grin slowly spread across Daemon's pink lips, the closest to a smile you would ever get from him, as he stood. He rested his hands on your shoulders like always when he wanted his point heard.

"Good. Like your mother, I have faith that you will succeed. Failure is not in our blood," he spoke, his purple eyes following the white streak in your hair. "I know you care deeply for her, which is why this needs to be kept between father and daughter. I do not want any undue stress upon her as we plan for another child soon," he said in a lowered voice.

You nodded, your lashes fluttering with a faint smile as he left your chambers. Breathing deeply, you went to your desk, plucking the note from the drawer as you reread it.

"I hope this letter finds thou well. Despite your start, I have heard tales of the feats thou have accomplished and how you have grown into a lady fitting of thy station. Though I realize we did not leave within the terms I had wished the last time thou visited the Keep, I need thy help. My son, Prince Aegon, hath become unruly since you have left. He lives inside the brothels on the Streets of Silk and drinks until he cannot move. He hath gone missing multiple times in the past months.

Watchmen discovered him in a pool of his own gore, and when I reminded him of his intended name-day celebration within a fortnight and all who were expected to be in attendance, he was enraged. I had never seen him in such a way. Aegon now refuses to attend for unknown reasons and hath disappeared again. I dispatched Ser Criston Cole to find my son, but he hath had nay luck.

I implore thou to forgive the details that I am about to divulge. Years after thou had left the Red Keep, I had come looking for Aegon within his chambers and had found what couldst only be titled as an alter for thou. Dresses, underclothes, bed linens, stockings, miniature portraits of thou, and a journal were sullied and hidden inside a compartment within his mattress. I realize it was wrong of me to dost so, and I have prayed to the Seven in recompense, but I chose to read his diary's contents. What I saw inside were the inner thoughts of a madman.

I am disgusted by what I read, but it couldst be used to the advantage. Depravity depicted in such blatant language, vulgar thoughts, and words that nearly stopped my heart, but what disturbed me the most was that thou were in it. I know of the time you and Aegon spent together and his lingering feelings toward you.

I beg thou, pray, come to Kings Landing. Thou art my only hope to stop the shame brought upon this family by his absence. I wilt give thou whatever thou desire in thanks.

Nay soul knows the contents of our correspondence, and I wouldst like it to continue that way.

With sincere regards, Queen Alicent of House Hightower"

The Queen was a simpleton to believe that her begging could make you feel an ounce of sympathy toward her plights. You did not owe her anything. For all you cared, Aegon could fuck every woman in Kings Landing, never appear at any event, and drink himself to death, and it would still not be enough shame cast upon her family.

The Hightowers deserved to suffer—every single one of them.

***

It had been three days since you had received Queen Alicent's letter begging for your help. It was plenty of time to send one of your own to the Red Keep and pack your things.

Rhaenyra had found it odd that only you had been the one to receive an invitation to what indeed should be a family event. All the noble houses that were sent a raven would surely bring along their spouse and gaggle of children.

Despite the petty attempt at an insult this was to Rhaenyra and her kin, she did not pry further nor send word of her displeasure to her past friend. The trip did serve a hidden purpose from House Hightower, so she let the offense slip with the wind.

"Sister. You truly do not desire to return to that den of vipers," Jaceaerys questioned as the Dragonkeepers perilously dragged Cannibal's chained body. It was something you could never watch as you lowered your gaze to your riding pants.

It always stung your heart to observe such a wild beast in shackles, the Keepers hitting him with whips if he disobeyed. Dragons cannot be tamed with soft riders, you chanted internally. The reminder of it carved into the flesh of your palm. You had to be brave, strong, and intelligent. Kindness did not get you a dragon.

"Sister," Jace waved his hand beside you, "are you even hearing my words?" You hummed, nodding as you looked into his brown eyes, which were not so different from yours.

"Yes, I am listening, brother," you replied condescendingly. "My desire is certain. I will travel to Kings Landing upon their request, for it would be rude to refuse the words of the Queen."

"The Queen sent it to you?" he asked, incredulous, his black eyebrows raising to the sky as you gave him a perplexed look.

"Did I not tell you," you requisitioned, tilting your head at his bewildered expression. Jace opened his mouth to speak, but you swiftly cut him off. "It is no matter who sent it, so I do not see why you are concerned."

He huffed, crossing his arms as he toed the loose stones in front of the entrance to Dragonmont. You rolled your eyes.

Yes, you did love your half-brother as if he was truly your whole, but the lack of blood relation did not make him any less annoying.

"Why would they only invite you? I am to inherit the Iron Throne after Mother. It should be I mounting my dragon and flying to Kings Landing," he said proudly but with envy in his tone. "I am the Kings grandson and not the bastard of-"

"Jacaerys!" Your mother shouted, Lucserys's and Joffrey's hands in her own, closely followed by the rest of your family and some servants to see you off. "Give your apologies to your sister, now."

Jace turned to you, red tinting his cheeks and mumbling under his breath as he went to stand beside the nursemaids holding the twins, Viserys and Aegon. You walked over to your mother, showing none of the bottled emotions your brother had opened as she wrapped you in her warm embrace.

"I will miss you my perzītsos," she whispered into your tightly braided hair. "No matter what anyone says, we are your family, and the blood of the dragon flows strongly within you."

You looked up at her violet eyes, shimmering in a pool of unshed tears as you smiled and said you would miss her. It would be the first time since you had been brought to Dragonstone you ever traveled anywhere without your family.

Occasionally, you would travel to Driftmark for Rhaena's name day or holidays so she could be with her twin and grandparents or when the rare Lord would invite Rhaenyra to gain her favor as the heir. Your family had their own little world here on Dragonstone, so there was no reason to leave it.

You gave each of your younger siblings a kiss on the cheek, promising Luke how you would write every moment you could. Rhaena, whom you never had a close relationship with despite sharing the same father, came, offering you a sincere smile and hug before you reached Jace.

He couldn't look at you, his eyes focusing on anything but his half-sister standing before him. You stepped closer, surprising him with a genuine hug before whispering.

"We are more alike than you think. I believe that is why we tend to fight so much," you paused, pulling him closer to your body under the guise of a sentimental moment as he processed your words. "But once you accept that we are not so different, perhaps we will finally have nothing to upset our parents about." You felt his sharp intake of breath as you released him. The implication hung in the air as you gave him a loving smile and a peck on his nose before you went to Daemon.

Your father nodded to the servants behind him as you watched them, bewildered. They carried a rectangular item wrapped in a leather cloth, the shape unmistakable as they uncovered it, placing it delicately not to hurt Daemon.

The sheath was as golden as the sun as your father removed it, the longsword blade reflecting a mirror image of the grey sky above. Its hilt had the same gold with intricate designs on the smaller-than-average handle that expanded its way up to the blade, licking the steel like flames. The crossguard comprised two dragons on opposing sides, turning their head to bite the blade. A blood-red ruby sat in the center, surrounded by what you could only assume were four circles of Dragonglass. It reminded you of Dark Sister, Daemon's sword, only more ornate.

You could not form words, your mouth opening and closing like a fish thrown onto the shore. You wanted to thank him. Spout your never-ending gratefulness and praise until the end of time, but none of that leaves your lips.

"Could I hold it," you asked Daemon, your eyes flicking to his and the sword. He smirked, his eye wrinkling in the corner as he placed it in your upturned palms.

It was heavier than the training swords you used, sharper than them, too, as you run your finger across the blade. You were sure it had taken some convincing on Daemon's part to get Rhaenyra to agree to have your own weapon. You had overheard them arguing behind closed doors regarding your upbringing on more than one occasion. Your half-mother refusing to let Daemon commission you a simple sword of your own, and your father arguing back about how she had no say over his blood.

You knew what it meant to have your own sword. It was more than finally showing your prowess and reaching your full potential but was a silent way of your mother and father believing you were ready and that it was your turn to teach and guide yourself in the art of life and the dangers that came with it.

"Thank you, father," you quietly breathed, hooking the sword onto the leather belt of your pants.

Its golden sheath stood out among the black cloth of your outfit, clashing with the silver that accented your body. You would have to commission new clothes once you were in Kings Landing.

Daemon said nothing, tilting his head as you came in for a firm embrace. He squeezed you tightly, nearly crushing your ribs as he rested his chin on your hair, noting Rhaena's avoidant gaze. This was the most affection you had received from him, never having been the type of man who smothered his family in kisses and hugs. You melted at his touch, smiling into his chest as you both stood there for the longest time, making no effort to pull away until the young Viserys sneezed.

"You will write to me very day, yes?" Daemon questioned, his hands on your shoulders as he raised his brows.

"Of course," you said passionately. "Everything I see, every whisper, rumor I hear will be sent to you." He hummed in approval, releasing you as you climb atop your dragon.

You adjusted yourself in your saddle, stationed between two of Cannibal's large spikes, as you gave your family one last parting glance.

Though you were on one of the most enormous dragons in the world, you could still see the teary eyes of Jace, your mother, and Luke. All looked up at you with the same expressions as you pressed your lips to your leather riding gloves, sending each of them a genuinely heartfelt kiss.

"Sōvēs!" You shouted, and the black dragon reared its hind legs, pushing off the rocky ground as he lifted his wings.

Master List of Series

Spotify Playlist

YouTube Playlist

If you want to know what her sword is based on, here is the link. Her sword has much more pizzazz than the one pictured because she is royalty. xD Let's just send a silent prayer for Aegon in the next chapter. He's gonna need it because someone has unresolved trauma.

Tagged Peeps: @zeennnnnnn, @malfoytargaryen, @targaryencore, @justasmallbean, @alexandra-001, @omgsuperstarg, @sommornyte, @minttea07, @silverslive, @unclecrunkle, @prettykinkysoul, @duesobabe, @djlexi, @ynbutbetter, @honestlykat, @graykageyama, @legolas017, @iiamthehybrid, @brezzybfan, @dd122004dd, @ladybug0095, @millies0bsimp, @kalfild, @sheislonelyalways, @tempt-ress, @bellameshipper, @minttea07, @trikigirl271, @esposadomd, @buckylahey, @justarandomflowerchildofthenight, @partypoison00, @please-buckme, @pastelorangeskies, @joliettes, @existential-echo, @priyajoyy, @valaenatargaryensdragon, @merovingianprincess, @rachelnicolee, @candy12110, @w3ird11, @ruhjkie, @fatalewomen, @somemydayy, @ariana-dumbledore8, @marikkjj, @zillahvathek, @adelusionalwriter

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dearorpheus · 1 year

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hello, your blog's vibes are absolutely impeccable! I was wondering if you could recommend me some nonfiction reading on eroticism, religion or fear? I'd love to read about any of these topics, but I never really know where to start looking for good theory books or essays, so I usually end up reading fiction instead. any nonfiction recs would be deeply appreciated (and on other topics too if you have particular favorites). have a nice day!

hello! thank you for the kind words♡

hm! some reading might be: - Erotism: Death and Sensuality + Visions of Excess, Bataille - Masochism: Coldness and Cruelty & Venus in Furs, Deleuze - The Sadeian Woman: And the Ideology of Pornography, Angela Carter - Hurts So Good: The Science and Culture of Pain on Purpose, Leigh Cowart - Eros the Bittersweet, Anne Carson - A Lover's Discourse, Roland Barthes - Uses of the Erotic, Audre Lorde - A Literate Passion: Letters of Anaïs Nin and Henry Miller, 1932-1953 - Foucault's Histor[ies] of Sexuality - Being and Nothingness, Sartre - The Argonauts, Maggie Nelson - Aesthetic Sexuality: A Literary History of Sadomasochism, Romana Byrne - Pleasure Principles: An Interview with Carmen Maria Machado - "The Aesthetics of Fear", Joyce Carol Oates - Recreational Terror: Women and the Pleasures of Horror Film Viewing, Isabel Cristina Pinedo - "On Fear", Mary Ruefle - "In Search of Fear", Philippe Petit - Female Masochism in Film: Sexuality, Ethics and Aesthetics, Ruth Mcphee - Powers of Horror, Julia Kristeva - Hélène Cixous' Stigmata (i am thinking esp of "Love of the Wolf") - Mere Christianity, C.S. Lewis - anything from Caroline Walker Bynum.... Wonderful Blood, Fragmentation and Redemption, Holy Feast and Holy Fast - excerpts of Letter From a Region in my Mind, James Baldwin - Thus Spoke Zarathustra, Nietzsche (re: Christian morality, death of God) - Waiting for God, Simone Weil - The Myth of Sisyphus, Albert Camus - Modern Man in Search of a Soul, Carl Jung - "The Genesis of Blame", Anne Enright

do know as well that Lapham's Quarterly has issues dedicated entirely to these subjects you've mentioned: eros, religion, fear ! there's also this wonderful ask from @rotgospels on biblical horror theory

other non-fic i will always rec: - "On Self-Respect", Joan Didion - Illness as Metaphor + Regarding the Pain of Others, Susan Sontag - The Art of Cruelty: A Reckoning, Maggie Nelson - "The Laugh of the Medusa", Hélène Cixous - Ways of Seeing, John Berger - The Faraway Nearby, Rebecca Solnit - The Body in Pain, Elaine Scarry some non-fic things i've read lately: - "Mary Shelley's Obsession with the Cemetery", Bess Lovejoy - "Horror Lives in the Body", Megan Pillow - "The Cruel Myth of the Suffering Artist", Patrick Nathan - "The Rub of Rough Sex", Chelsea G. Summers - "The Lost Art of Memorizing Poetry", Nina Kang - "The problem with English", Mario Saraceni

#i hope you have a wonderful day too!#asks

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lothlorienlover · 6 months

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When he began writing The Lord of the Rings in the 1920s, J.R.R. Tolkien was a professor at the University of Oxford.

At the time, fantasy was not considered a “serious” genre.

So, one of his contemporaries explains, Tolkien was mocked by his Oxford colleagues.

They said he was wasting his time “lavishing such incredible pains upon a genre which is, for them, trifling by definition.”

One of Tolkien's biographers writes, “He was regularly asked in a mocking manner, 'How is your hobbit?'”

Amidst a crowd of people who make fun of you, who tell you you're wasting your time, who encourage you to do something less trifling and more prestigious—sometimes, all it takes is one person's support.

For Tolkien, that person was the great writer C.S. Lewis.

“The unpayable debt that I owe to [Lewis] was not influence but sheer encouragement,” Tolkien said. “He was for long my only audience. Only from him did

I ever get the idea that my 'stuff' could be more than a private hobby.”

Takeaway 1:

In his essay, How To Do What You Love, Paul Graham writes, “You shouldn't worry

about prestige...Prestige is like a powerful magnet that warps even your beliefs about what you enjoy. It causes you to work not on what you like, but what you'd like to like.”

Tolkien wasn't warped by his Oxford colleagues and their belief that what he was working on wasn't prestigious.

And after his works of fantasy went on to sell more than 600 million copies, Tolkien would eventually be widely called the “father of high fantasy.”

He is just one example to remind us that what is considered “prestigious” isn't stable in time, and that “if you do anything well enough,” to quote Graham again, “you’ll make it prestigious.”

Takeaway 2:

Tolkien, Lewis, and another writer named Charles Williams were part of an informal literary club known as The Inklings.

Shortly after Williams unexpectedly died, Lewis realized he stopped hearing the way Tolkien used to laugh at the way Williams used to tell a joke. Which made him then realize,

“In each of my friends,” Lewis wrote, “there is something that only some other friend can fully bring out. By myself I am not large enough to call the whole man into activity; I want other lights than my own to show all his facets.”

If not for the encouragement of his friend, Tolkien said he would not have been large enough to call the whole of him into activity.

“But for [Lewis'] interest and unceasing eagerness for more,” Tolkien said, “I should never have brought The L. of the R. to a conclusion.”

- - -

“Just do what you like, and let prestige take care of itself.” — Paul Graham

Written by Billy Oppenheimer

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artist-issues · 9 months

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Quick question. Have you read any of Brandon Sanderson's books before? If so, what books would you recommend?

Also, what books of C.S. Lewis, would you recommend and why.

I want to start reading them, but I'm uncertain what books I should pick out and try.

Hello my friend!

I've never read Brandon Sanderson, or heard of him! Do you hear good things about him? Should I look into him? Sorry to turn it back around on you.

C. S. Lewis is unlike any other author to me. What he has to say resonates with me and feels like he opened up my heart and put what was in there into order every time I read his stuff. Feels like going to the chiropractor—like my thoughts and emotions and vague ideas have been out of alignment, and he pops them back into place where I didn't even know I needed alignment.

That said, I love all his stuff. Fiction, non-fiction, essays, letters to friends, lectures, everything. So I'm almost...the wrong person to ask, because I would recommend ANYTHING he writes.

I'll try to give you a little recommendation-by-starting point?

If you're looking for fiction: Read the Chronicles of Narnia. If you've already read them, read them again 😅 I read them on loop. They're on my phone. I'm never not reading them.

If you're looking for deeper ("adult") fiction: Read Out of the Silent Planet, then Perelandra—but I don't recommend reading That Hideous Strength until you've tried to read...

3. If you're looking for commentary on fundamental worldviews: Read The Abolition of Man. It's an essay on what C.S. Lewis believed about the idea of "progressivism," but it has a lot to say about objectivity versus subjectivity, and where logic and emotion belong in the priority-list of a person...I just recommend that everybody read The Abolition of Man. Then read That Hideous Strength to finish the Ransom Trilogy, because it's kind of a modern-fairytale picture of what Lewis was trying to say in Abolition. Reading both will compliment his thoughts!

4. If you're still looking for more fiction: Read The Screwtape Letters and The Great Divorce, then Til We Have Faces and The Pilgrim's Regress.

5. If you're looking to set your mind on the things above with C.S. Lewis: Read Mere Christianity, and The Problem of Pain.

6. If you're looking to hear what C.S. Lewis had to say about stories or critical thinking: Read his essay in response to critics of the Lord of the Rings (I think it's called "The Dethronement of Power") and read An Experiment in Criticism. (He has so much good stuff to say about enjoyment, and how humans can use their critical thinking skills to actually get in their own way. C.S. Lewis really believed that people should enjoy what is good to enjoy, in the proper way, and that that was one of the most God-honoring things you could do. He also hated teetotaling along the same lines 😅)

Remember that everything C.S. Lewis writes is very "thematic." He wasn't exactly making allegories all the time, but he was making "supposals" all the time. For example, Narnia is "suppose God created other worlds; in those worlds there had to have been a Jesus; in a world of talking beasts, what would Jesus look like? A lion." Or, "suppose God created life on all the planets in our solar system, not just Earth, and suppose Satan was put in charge of ours while other angels were put in charge of other planets; then what would space travel look like?" And many thematic lessons are tied up in there.

Also, if you read his biography Surprised by Joy and Perelandra, you might come to realize something about C.S. Lewis' beliefs that I'm only just starting to grasp: he thought we make WAY too drastic and exclusive a distinction between "story" and "reality." He believed that there was something in every story which points back to the one great story God made up, which is reality. So he's not afraid to include pagan mythology in his own Christian stories because to him, knowing their history and the cultures they come from, some of those pagan myths and stories tie neatly into truths about God. It might be a hard thing to grasp depending on your Biblical upbringing, but the spirit of what he means is not unbiblical.

Another cool thing I'm learning from Lewis is that he didn't think of all mankind as monsters. Oh, he believed that the Bible was correct when it says "all have sinned; there is none righteous," etc. He certainly didn't believe there was anything good left in man. But what he did believe was that man was kind of like a broken mirror, I guess. Like, it's in pieces on the floor. Good for nothing but the trash. But you can still look hard at the shards and figure out what it should be doing, and in that way, you can see traces of the mirror's creator. So in his biography, there's this interesting part where C.S. Lewis actually says that heartlessness is a worse sin than, say, homosexuality—they're both sin, but at least one points to a twisted version of what we were made for, which is love. At least someone could look at those broken shards and maybe come to the conclusion that there is a God who made us creatures for love, and therefore learn something about Him, even if we mucked it up. But with a heartless person? Lewis seems to condemn that person as not human at all, because there's no trace, not even a broken trace, of what humans are meant to be in them.

I just thought that was interesting. Because it makes you realize that mankind's story isn't "bad to good." It's more like, "good, to bad, back to good." Which is why any of us recognizes the need for God at all.

Anyway! Sorry for the ramble, I know you didn't ask for it 😅 I hope that gets you started? I also hope you blog about what you think of any of Lewis' stuff; I can't wait to read it. He's near and dear to me, so I like the thought of "sharing" his writing with anyone. Thank you'

#C.S. Lewis #Lewis #Lewisian #Inklings #Narnia #asked #answered #recommendations #books #reading #the ransom trilogy #abolition of man

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brb-on-a-quest · 6 months

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So the other day I made a post about writing fanfiction about Dante's Inferno, and I've come to you all with about 3 weeks left in the deadline to ask whether it's good enough plot-wise to submit (because I'm a coward and I don't trust my own judgment and to share my writing with people who know me IRL is kind of a nightmare). So I ask, if people have time, for gentle critiques or whether I should toss it into the eternal fire (I'll save the jokes). One massive thing about it is that it's 800 words over length, so I may have to double-submit it (because that's an option for us, it just counts as double the points and I don't trust my writing that much), or talk to my professor and see if he can help me decide what to cut.

It's about 2.2k in length, and trigger warnings that it takes place in hell, so there are mentions of violence and abuse, but it is very light.

A Modern Pilgrim’s Guide to Hell

By brb-on-a-quest

He had found me while I was walking in the woods; I had strayed far from the safe arms of campus and ran into sight of three mafiosi: one who barked like a wolf and told me to “go to hell,” one who barked like a leopard, and the final one shook his lion-like mane as he told me to “turn around and don’t come back here for the sake of your soul.”

I, not wishing to be murdered on a fine day, turned around and walked in the other direction. The woods grew more vast and dark. My shoes crunched on twigs and leaves and I realized I, somehow, had turned off very far from the way I had come, and I was unsure how to get home.

All too conveniently, he had appeared. “You look lost; can I help?” Before me stood a man in a gray suit, the hair all but gone from the top of his glossy head. The moon illuminated his presence, making him seem somewhat transparent and ethereal. He was smiling at me in a sort of familiar, grandfatherly way that made me want to trust him, despite alarm bells ringing.

“No.” I was not going to walk with a strange man, even if I was lost. I wasn’t about to get murdered-

My stomach grumbled, I realized I hadn’t eaten that day and must have been near dinner now. The spirit was willing, but the flesh was hungry. “If you could point me back in the direction of campus, that would be great.”

“Alright, prepare for a journey through hell.” He laughed. “I’ll get you home eventually.”

I blinked, chuckling awkwardly. Please let that be an exaggeration.

“I’m sorry, I believe I didn’t get your name.” The woods were getting darker as we moved away from the mafiosi. There was a building, several yards ahead, that the stranger seemed to veer towards. Raindrops came through the thick canopy and hit my face, shoulders, and hair, at first intermittently before progressing all at once.

“Ah, yes, pardon, where are my manners? It’s Clive. C.S. Lewis.” He turned around. “I was sent here by a friend of yours. John Tolkien?” “John Tolkien?” I blinked. “As in J.R.R. Tolkien?” “Well, he goes by Jolkein Rolkien Rolkien Tolkien nowadays after seeing that go ‘round the Internet, but yes, the very one.”

“He considers us friends?”

“You visited his grave once when you traveled to our homeland last year and prayed for his soul; one doesn’t forget that kindness; therefore, he’s decided to help you with that writing inspiration you were asking about the other day. Regrettably, he can’t meet you until much later, but he does send his regards.”

“And you’re C.S.-right? Oh my god.” My jaw dropped as I finally put the two pieces together. “You’re the Clive Staples Lewis. You wrote my entire childhood. I loved the Chronicles of Narnia-” The words tumbled out of my face rapidly, like a cascade of water over rocks. “My Dad would read your stories to me every night. And now you’re here. This is a dream. I must be dreaming.”

C.S. gave a little bow, with a grin that stretched from ear to ear. “Oh, I know. Happy to be of service. Please call me C.S.-- it sounds a bit nicer than Clive Staples, don’t you think?”

I nodded, my body felt too airy to fully speak all of the words I was thinking. After a moment’s pause, C.S. gestured to the building ahead of us, “Now, shall we continue? I’d rather get out of this rain before going forward.”

I heard the screams first before we had toed the lines over the threshold. Loud, guttural screams rang in my? ears and made my heart stop beating for a moment. “What is that?” My voice was warbling. I hadn’t heard that much raw emotion in a single cry for months.

“The damned, the poor devils.” C.S. shook his head.

It was then I took notice of the building in front of us. It could barely be qualified as a shed. There were profanities graffitied all over the side of the building, looking as if it was dripping and blurring in the rain that beat against it. Shingle pieces fell off the roof, rust corroded away most of the metal pipes. We approached the door that looked slightly off-center in the proportions of the building and had words etched into its wooden panels. Or it did at one point, they had been clawed through multiple times so that it took more effort to try and follow what it had once read:

Abandon All Hope, Ye Who Enter Here.

“This looks like a haunted house. Or a mob front.” I chuckled awkwardly, partially to my guide and partially to myself, as a way to cope with the awkward feelings in my throat. The wet grass did not mix well with the strong odors of paint that always gave me a migraine. Perhaps I have been duped. And I let myself be duped. But then how would he know about the Tolkien Trip-? My thoughts were cut off by the doorknob shrieking, the noise grating against my poor ears.

He entered, and my feet followed, though my spirit was unwilling. The shed was surprisingly spartan on the inside. Chairs lined the wall and went down the middle. Heat blasted against my face, burned my skin, and my clothes instantly felt dry.

My guide went up to speak with the front desk, and bade me to follow him. “Stay close, no good getting separated here.”

I scowled, my rage rising to the roof of my mouth with its iron taste. I just wanted to write my paper and maybe scroll through social media for a while; I didn’t want to go on an entire spiritual journey. I don’t have time to go on a spiritual journey. I have to write my final paper and check my messages.

I didn’t hear what C.S. told the front desk, where a half-bull, half-man creature sat flicking a whip at one of the souls in front of him, marking him with a certain number of lashes. One. Two. Three. My skin jumped with every crack. I turned my face to bury it in my guide’s shoulder. C.S. grabbed my hand and squeezed as Minos grumbled something about ‘upper management interference’ and flicked his whip in the direction of the wall. It opened to reveal another room. “That would be the second circle of hell. Come with me, please.” C.S. started pulling me closer to the door.

The heat grew more intense, and I squinted to avoid it blowing into my eyes too much. The smell of smoke and burning brown muck overpowered my nostrils. Something squished audibly underneath my shoes, and I recoiled at the sound. Ahead of me, I saw many creatures furiously smashing away on keyboards attached to these boxy computer monitors from the 90s. Most of them were round and bulbous. Their chins bled into their necks, and the fat dangled from their arm-like appendages and stomachs. Horns emerged from the top of their head and curled around to pierce them at the temple.

“What are they?” I shuddered, all the input overloading my senses until I wanted to scream.

“It would be better to ask what they once were,” C.S. said as he took my hand and patted it comfortingly.

Instinctively I knew that they, like me, had been human once. “This isn’t what I thought hell would be like.” I mean, it was and it wasn’t. Sure, it was uncomfortable, but when I read Dante’s version, I had imagined much worse.

“Times change. God’s divine justice doesn’t change, but sinners do; the way they need to be punished will vary differently.” C.S. said very matter-of-factly.

Suddenly, a ding rang throughout the room and the goblin-esque figures began to cry out with one voice, a shriek of eternal wrath and pain cuts appeared across their skin. I jumped and hid behind my guide. “What’s going on?”

“Ah, a new message.” C.S. patted my head thoughtfully. “Don’t worry, they’re too absorbed in their own worlds to hurt you.”

“What’s going on?” I repeated.

“These souls have committed sins using technology for evil intentions. Cyberbullying, harassing, wrath, lust, and envy.”

“And their punishment is to continue what they did in life?” I edged out from behind C.S.’, taking another hard look.

“They prioritized screen time over God, so God allowed them to reap the consequences of that choice. Come, I promise, they’re too caught up in their screens to notice anyone around them, and we have more things to see before we’re done.” C.S. grabbed my hand, and I followed him, cringing at the squishing noises underneath my feet made by this ooze. Looking over their shoulders, I saw sausage-like fingers furiously typing at janky keyboards, long paragraphs filled with profanities, uncharitable arguments, and negative emojis. Whoever they were messaging seemed only to goad them on further into their hell, as none of the souls even turned to give me a momentary glance.

“There’s no rest for the internet troll, thus they do not deserve any in the afterlife.”

At least I’m not like them. I felt a mix of pity mixed with disgust at the damned souls that were grumbling and typing away at either side of me. There was one up ahead who had a very coppery orange tan that made his hair look even more bleached. Is that… Donald Trump? I didn’t know he had died. I had the temptation to poke him on the shoulder, to grab his attention, to ask their name, and to strike up a conversation. The oozing pus dripping down their back and their broken, hunched posture made my mouth feel dry. I started reaching out anyway before C.S. Lewis smacked my hand. “It’s not recommended. There will be others who will be more gracious in terms of talking to you.”

I followed him, feeling meek as a rebuked child. We entered a new room that was completely barren, minus the souls existing there. Some of them were tearing at their hair and shrieking like banshees. Others were lying on the floor, staring at the ceiling, half immersed in this squished mixture.

“What is happening here?”

“Those who were addicted to their phone and neglected their growth as a person now have to live without it.” I took in a deep breath and exhaled, thinking of how my screen time on my phone had steadily increased over the past decade. A deep sense of guilt and shame struck into my very core, my former prideful thoughts coming to mock me. I am exactly like them.

“What are you doing here?” A voice came from below me. “You’re not like them.”

“I’m-” It seemed imprudent to give my actual name as I looked down at a damned soul lying face upward in the gloppy muck. “-a pilgrim.” I finished. “This is my guide.”

The soul scowled. “They’re just letting anyone in here now, aren’t they, walk around as if they own the place. This is not very swag of them.”

“I have my orders from heaven, if that does not satisfy you, take it up with management, not with us,” C.S. ordered in a very firm tone. “What’s your name?”

“I am James Charles. I am here because I spent every moment of my conscious life behind a screen, whether it was a TV, a smartphone, or a computer. I was a content creator for YouTube and TikTok.”

“It seems absurd.” I cried out. “To punish someone for being dependent on technology as we are. Our work uses screens, our recreational time uses screens, it doesn’t make sense to punish people for using tools.”

“Not their usage, but their abuse.” C.S. corrected me. “Charles, how much screen time did you get again.”

“My screen time was over 22 hours a day. I took little sleep or food except what was needed to keep me going back”

“That doesn’t sound like a sin-” I cut in, still stubborn, my personal shame rising ever higher while feeling my gut sink lower.

“I used the internet to get to other people.” James continued. “I manipulated others into believing that I was correct and a god while behind the camera while using the internet to… hurt others. Particularly the children.” His face beamed with unrepentance. “They were so deliciously young-” Disgust choked me and I turned back to hide and swallow the rising bile in my throat. I had seen the news articles, about how the internet had turned on this man when the scandals had erupted. His consequential suicide had been in the news for about a week, with more and more details of victims' stories emerging to only add to the horror.

I’m not like him. I’m better than- I stopped myself in my tracks. No. He’s a human who made bad choices with technology. I am also making bad choices with tech-

I clutched C.S.’s arm. “Please. I’ve learned my lesson - take me home, I’ll do better, I swear.”

“You have not seen all that is to come,” was the not-comforting reply. “But come with me, and we shall embark on this journey together. And have hope, there are still good things left to see.”

The end. For now. (Maybe might update with further circles cuz I have other ideas but that's all I "need" for the assignment.

#Dante's Inferno #writeblr #Fanfiction #The Divine Comedy #tw: mentions of abuse and some violence in the background #writers on tumblr #this is my first time writing Not Fluff really in a hot minute #Also important context: my school hypothetically has a mafia nearby #hence the mentions of campus and mafia. It's a rumor among residents.#The Inferno #dante alighieri #brb-writes #brb-life #these tags are very unorganized my apologise

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