#(( because it very much differs based on which person belongs to which family line that's being married into

[royalreef]

(( Since its the dash topic right now:

Miranda has a strict regimen of birth control that she’s been placed on and will remain on until she’s been properly married and the time has come to have heirs. Until that point, she can’t go off of it, because it’s maintained by the Merkingdom and doing so before ordained by them could be seen as potentially questionable behavior that takes the rest of her rule into question.

This is primarily for the prevention of bastards — any royal that’s caught with a bastard child, had with anyone who they are not properly wedded to, is a massive black mark on their record. Other royals highly prize the sheer blackmail potential of the existence of a bastard and would absolutely use the, intentional or accidental, weakening of another noble family’s inheriting line to their full benefit. Royals are incredibly eager to stab each other in the back, and the existence of a bastard child is practically a target painted onto their back.

This is bad enough when it’s a bastard child between two royals, but it’s far worse when it’s a bastard child between a royal and a non-royal. The more powerful the royal’s station, the lesser the non-royal, and the stronger the blackmail material, and the stronger the potential repercussions of having made a bastard.

Because of this, if a royal has a bastard, chances are that they don’t know about it. If a royal does come across the information that they have a bastard child somewhere in the world, who potentially could claim inheritance of their family line but was not claimed by said family line at their birth, then their first and immediate move will be killing said child. There’s too much at risk to let them to live, and they’ll often murder the family and community of the bastard child as well, just to make sure that their tracks are fully covered and no one finds out about this. It’s too dangerous to let them live, and it’s too dangerous to let anyone know.

Because of this, if communities discover that one of the children within them is the bastard child of a royal, well...

While there are certainly communities and families that will happily welcome a child in, even a child who was born of a royal, and will swear themselves to secrecy and promise to keep them safe — they aren’t a majority, and it’s easy to see why. A bastard child puts them all at risk, implicating all of them in the political games that royals play, and the commonfolk seldom get out ahead in these games. There are other children too, other people, other lives put at risk, all because of this single action, and they all know what the wrath of a royal looks like. They all know how painful and brutal those deaths can be, and they know entire communities have been wholly wiped off the map because of this.

Oftentimes, if a community discovers one of their members has had a bastard child of a royal, they’ll turn that member and bastard child in. Whether to the Merkingdom, or to a competing royal who is all too eager for blackmail and willing to offer protection in turn, or to the royal parent themselves — it seldom ever works out as fully intended, but it’s still better than the alternative for most of the communities who do it.

Even children between two royals who are properly married to each other that aren’t fully planned out and arranged to be born ahead of their conception aren’t immune to this backlash either. The royals take the manner of inheritance and their family lines seriously, and implicating themselves as not taking their duties seriously and having full responsibility to hold onto their title is not only dangerous for what the consequences could be, but also dangerous for how other royals will react.

The hierarchy of royals within the Merkingdom shifts constantly, and holding onto what control they have is a deadly and tricky game.

[rallamajoop]

Alex Winters on Marco, David, and David/Marco

So, there's this post by @silvermaplealder that I've had in my likes for ages, featuring some very nice fanart of Marko from The Lost Boys ‒ but also the quote "Can't forget how Alex Winter said David and Marko were BDSM partners" ‒ apparently based on an interview they no longer had a link to.

So I had to go look for the source for this, and I think I've found it ‒ it's an interview Alex Winters did with Spectrum Culture in 2017.

Here's the money quote in full, because damn, it's a hell of a statement:

To us, David [Sutherland’s character] was kind of like a pimp. What I had in my head about Marko’s relationship with David was he was basically my pimp and sometimes you’re having a sexual relationship with that person and sometimes you’re not. But, there is a very bonded master-slave kind of aspect to it and then there’s a lover aspect to it. Those undercurrents are all there. They weren’t something I was going to try and drive in front of the audience, but they were fun to play with.

So the way Alex Winters actually puts it isn't exactly 'BDSM partners' so much as 'he was basically my pimp', or 'master-slave'. Which does track well with how much David orders Marko around ('Marko, food,' get the bottle, let's go for a ride, etc). But even if the sexual element sounds pretty casual ("sometimes you’re having a sexual relationship with that person and sometimes you’re not") he's very open that he was playing the role with the assumption that Marko and David probably fucked.

Doesn't sound like it was something he and Keifer Sutherland (David) talked about explicitly, but he does hammer home that none of the adults on set were unaware of what a very homoerotic film they were making. I'd already seen some interviews where Alex Winters talks about how those aspects of the film resonated with him, coming from a family of dancers and a background in theatre, and how he'd based Marko on all the queer folks he'd met doing Broadway since his childhood, but this sure is a whole level more information beyond!

But I never can resist the urge to overanalyse my favourite canons, so yet more thoughts below.

Whatever David and Marko might have going, it doesn't seem to pose any obstacle to (eg) whatever David's up to with Star, or might have in mind for Michael. And Marko sure does not seem to mind being David's butt boy (in any sense of the word) ‒ like, he does not come across as obsequious or spineless, he's not hanging on David's every word, but he seems to be 100% into whatever's going on there. It's hard to read him as bothered by the idea he might be about to lose his position to Michael either: anyone David wants is in.

But even more interesting to me is framing David as a pimp, mostly for what that implies the way he treats Star. Because sure, she doesn't get to go run off with Michael on his bike without David rolling up to remind her of her place, but (with apologies to any David/Star shippers) I can't read him as genuinely attracted to or invested in her, or not beyond how useful she is as bait. Her job is to bring home wide-eyed young men, but if she gets any funny ideas about getting attached (maybe convincing one of them to "take her away from all this"?) ‒ well, David's here to remind her who she belongs to.

Tl;dr: where Star's concerned, David reads way more 'pimp' than 'boyfriend' to me. Maybe there was potential for something else, back before it became apparent she wasn't going to make her first kill without a fight ‒ but then, Marko's not in a wildly different place himself. In fact, the biggest difference between Star and Marko might be that he likes his place in the pecking order, and is never happier than when he's covered in blood.

For context, this all comes out of the interviewer asking outright if there was something going on between Marko and David (Is there this strange, almost homosexual relationship between your character and Kiefer Sutherland’s character? […] He always asks your character to do things for him.) The tear that runs down David's face when he's chasing Sam and the Frogs after Marco's death is brought up too, though I'm pretty sure I've read elsewhere that was a lucky accident with more to do with those vampire contact lenses being horrifically uncomfortable (leaving it in the finished film was no accident though). Either way, any reaction David might have had to Marko's death ends at the cave: during the big finale, it's Paul, not David, who goes after the Frog brothers, hollering "You killed Marko!" (David's only got eyes for Michael at that point.)

To what degree David's ever been a pimp/fuckbuddy/master to Paul and/or Dwayne may be up to your own imagination, since there's just not much to go on there. But the more I think about what we see of David and Marko, the more I'm struggling to think of any time David even directly addresses either of the other two. Even in the 'Michael wants to know what's going on' exchange, it's "what's going on, Marko?" that he starts with. Heck, he even seems to be holding up Marko as a major fringe-benefit of joining them ("That's what I love about this place, you ask, you get. You'll like it here, Michael.") Which is probably not worth reading too much into (the gist and the vibes are so much more important than anything specific David's actually saying), but still, jeez, what is the message there? Join the Lost Boys, plenty of Marko to go around? Or, just letting you know how I like it?

In the same article, Winters also talks about his ideas about Marko's background:

As an actor and a director, I subscribe to the theory that you create as much backstory as the character needs in terms of what is going to be on-screen. Otherwise, you’re playing details and subtleties that make no sense to the audience and that just becomes navel gazing. With a character like Marko, who only says a couple of lines in the entire movie and doesn’t really have much need for context, it wasn’t something I was going to spend an enormous amount of time on. He was just a homeless kid who had run away. Typical sort of ‘80s story, right? Someone from a crazy, conservative part of the country who ends up running away to a warmer climate where you can survive on the street. Very similar to how kids get picked up out at the bus station in Times Square.

And yeah, Marko as a young, queer runnaway who hitch-hiked across the country, maybe discovered a real thing for being ordered around while making some cash as a rent boy ‒ that definitely works. You can so easily picture him meeting the Lost Boys, realising they were everything his conservative folks would have hated, and jumping at the chance to join them. It's almost too obvious.

All this over a character who gets like two lines in the whole film, who will be remembered by most simply as 'the cute one' (as distinguished from The Loud One (Paul) and The Quiet One (Dwayne)) and whose biggest scene is arguably the one where he gets staked while unconscious. I do like the point Winters makes that there's no point in creating more backstory for a character than you'll ever get the chance to reflect in what makes it to screen. But this is a film where even 'the cute one' gets to throw himself gleefully into the massacre scene and come out basically glowing, and the amount of subtext they managed to pack into this guy is something wonderful.

I've seen a few different takes on Marco in fic, but I don't think I've ever seen anything that delves into his subbier side, or his apparent master/slave thing with David (or David's whole 'pimp' persona, come to think of it). And I get why that might be: if you're here to ship David with Michael or Star, it's easier to ignore those kind of complications. But when all the evidence and the actor's own intentions are laid out for you like this, damn, there is a lot there I'd love to see people play with.

[tamamita]

whats the difference between the groups of Muslims? what are they fighting about.

In short, there are three major denominations of Islam, and various sub-branches, but I won't go into the latter.

Sunni, literally standing for those who follow the traditions of the Prophet, are Muslims who believe that politically, the Prophet's companions, Abu Bakr, Umar and Uthman were successors of the prophet, and the ones to establish the Rashidun Caliphate. Sunni Muslims base most of their traditions on various companions of the Prophet. The concept of Adalat al-Sahaba maintains that any companion that was present during the Prophet's time is a reliable person in terms of how they narrate traditions, thus establishing a multitude of hadiths from them. Although Sunni Islam (as a separate branch) didn't exist at that time, it became the standardized version of Islam when the Shi'as and Khawarijs rebelled against the Umayyads and the Abbasids, seeing the birth of the four schools of Sunni Islamic jurisprudence to counter their theological principles.

Shi'a, literally partisans of Ali, hold that through traditions and scriptural basis, Ali, the brother in law to the Prophet had chosen him to be the leader of the Muslims upon the latter's death, as a result of various events that took place, the Prophet's household were treated unfairly and the repercussions of these events subsequently led to their martyrdom, which is an essential pillar of Shi'a Islam. Due to their rejection of Abu Bakr, Umar, Uthman, and various other companions, they do not accept their chains of narrations in hadiths. Shi'as ultimately reject the concept of Adalat al-Sahaba, because traditions can not be accepted from unjust people. Most Shi'a Muslims (Twelver and Ismailis) put extreme emphasis on the Prophet's family and the line of Imamate through Ali and the Prophet's daughter, Fatimah, believing that only the Imams have the right to interpret the Qur'an in its esoteric and exoteric nature due to their infallibility, thus giving them absolute authority over the Muslims. Ali's tenure as the caliph saw much turmoil and ultimately led to his martyrdom. The subsequent death of Ali marked the end of the Rasidhun caliphate and transitioned into a monarchy with many of the Shi'as experiencing centuries of oppression.

Ibadism, a branch of Islam stemming from an extremist group called the Khawarij, they are a group of Muslims who did not agree with Ali's agreement to engage in arbitration with an opposing force that waged war against him over the caliphate. This led to a group of Muslims in Ali's army to defect, believing that judgment belongs to God alone, thus separating themselves from the rest of the Muslims. This group is known for their extremist approach and theology of Islam, but was quickly surpressed as they harassed innocent Muslims. The only remnants of the Khawarijs are the Ibadis and are relatively peaceful, albeit with some strict religious beliefs. They have their own collection of hadiths, but much of it is very close to the Sunnis corpus of traditions. They make up the majority of Muslims in Oman.

[mejomonster]

Okay so I've been reading Red White and Royal Blue the novel and I'm thrilled to report it IS a different experience.

I saw the movie first? Phenomenal. On its own merit, as it's own experience, hands down best movie I saw this year. And definitely one of my fave romances I've seen (along with But I'm a Cheerleader).

This book? I can see already the impression that the movie simplified, softened, and changed some things in some areas. I think the movie, based on the 100 pages I've read so far of the book, changed enough that the movie does read as different characters In The Spirit and Themes of the book. Movie Alex is like book Alex, but almost another universe of him (like Guardian Zhao Yunlan in chinese drama versus book). Henry so far reads as similar in novel to movie, but movie did not have the time to do his traits with as much nuance. Which like. I think many movie differences were made for making a concise movie length story, a slightly more on the nose story to make the main points hit audiences strong enough to get understood clearly, and to of course emphasize more of the points the movie script aimed to emphasize and focus on in that limited time.

I'm reading the book now. And delighted to say Alex's family is handled with much more nuance. Also the book is fascinating in my experience as the first fictional novel I've ever read with so much clear real life applicable casual political references. I've seen biographies and nonfiction books do this on occasion, but it's fascinating seeing a fiction novel do it. I think it's a brave and higher risk writing choice as it's both individual to author and even more so using the political as a reflection of characters, drawing concrete lines by which to judge them in the sort of terrifying "this stuff effects people's lives" way real public figures get judged. Fitting in seeing Alex and June as Public figures, but also risking as a writer your characters No Longer conforming to the "everyday man" character everyone can project onto. Bella in Twilight has a lot of Mormon related cultural experiences bleeding into how she's written, but the author didn't make her overly Mormon with a church she belonged to and overt commentary on that religious view of the world in relation to say Vampires and marriage and sex. (There are books that do tho, I've read realistic fiction like The Poisonwood Bible about missionaries which very much heavily directly discussed real religions and those beliefs effecting people's personalities and actions in the story). It's interesting to see a Romance novel go for the specific at the risk of making those characters less easy to "project" onto. I prefer this choice, the same way Fingersmith by Sarah Waters is one of my favorite romances and those two fucked up women sure aren't "everyday" average joes you can project onto. This writing choice makes the points made in Red White and Royal Blue a lot more pointed qnd with a lot more to back them up. It's interesting seeing. The movie definitely toned down things in this regard (while still including more overt politics than I've seen in many romances except say But I'm a Cheerleader with its brazen condemnation of conversion camps). I can see how the movie flattened Ellen to make her a more likable less flawed person, because it's easier to sell a loving mom President in a movie under limited time to give her no Significant Flaws. But the book has time to hammer her stubbornness has destroyed personal things, at times clashes strongly with her son who turned out so much like her (and is partly why June does not click with mom the way Alex does), how moms choices and personality were not necessarily good for June and Alex at times, how Alex clearly learned to be a workaholic qnd avoid his personal pain by being stubborn like his mom. She's someone he admires, and someone he emulates both good and bad, and someone he's infuriated that has those stubborn workaholic realistic traits he's copied. But a movie doesn't have time for the good and the bad, the realism of the damage all parents in some ways cause even if unintentional, the realism of what going through divorce means for each partner and their kids. The movie doesn't divorce them, because it's easier to sell a married mom as a positive (like the book lol comments on). I get it.

Anyway more on Alex's family. I deeply appreciate they're flawed and realistic in the book. In the movie, in its own interesting way I found it interesting to watch Alex (raised primarily with secure attachments and open loving secure support from both parents Together) with Henry who did NOT have the same emotional relationships foundation from family (only his Sister being a Safe Enough relationship to trust to emotionally rely on). Versus now the book, seeing they actually both can bond over these imperfect situations of their families. Which in its way, is realistic to many people who've found love. It gives them more to see understanding with each other in. And in Alex's case in the book in particular, his background details give us more about who he is qnd what drives him. The movie had to simplify those elements of him qnd Harry outside romance in order to tell a timely romance story. The book has more space for those individual character stories of trauma and pain and growth and connection.

[revivisection]

RT ask: 2 4 6 8 14

😁😁😁 #love#friendship#friends#loveandfriendshipwithfriends

2. What is their Origin? Who were they before they became a Rogue Trader?

crime lord babeyy. soon as i saw it, of course that was the origin i was gonna pick. cosmas formed in my mind like aphrodite out of the sea. who did i castrate to make him… it was first born out of necessity, boy’s gotta eat (and also keep the other children he was looking after alive (don’t worry about it)), but he’s also got ambitions. he may be a super smart guy who does a lot of things but i don’t know jack about shit so we’re keeping it vague 💯 he’s cold trading he’s thieving he’s making connections he’s recruiting (realizes i can’t say goon anymore) people he’s territorial he’s a businessman he’s a father figure he’s uhhhh killing people etc. it’s like rogue trader shit but illegal because he doesn’t have a warrant (yet).

4. What does their name mean? Is it significant?

cosmas means order and decency, which is kind of funny… it’s also the name of a saint. according to a quick peruse of wikipedia, cosmas and his twin damian provided medical services for free, sort of in line with rt cosmas’ iconoclast actions, and they also survived a few attempted executions before finally dying, which is like how rt cosmas viciously clings on to life. and i like the name cause it’s space-y. i don’t imagine the meaning would remain in-universe, but cosmas has gone by many names and this was the one he liked best in the end. he named himself after the universe itself, which feels right for him.

as for his last name, the game gives you one based off your origin (besides sanctioned psyker, for some reason). the one for crime lord is “stubbs” which, i don’t know why i’m mr. stubbs, but i like to imagine it’s a nickname he picked up for [reasons pending, possibly forever]. not really a surname, but you say it like one. he had an actual family name before that, but he’s long shed it.

he becomes a von valancius and uses the power of that name often to his great advantage, but he doesn't really internalize it. it's a title, it's something he can use, it's not a name name like "cosmas" is to him.

6. What is their Conviction? How adherent are they to it? Does it change at all over the course of the game?

iconoclast, which is based in me wanting to be Nice in a Video Game, and then i had to turn it into actual characterization later. i stick to it pretty closely, though i’ve made a couple dogmatic/heretic choices too. cosmas is quite resolute in his beliefs (one could say stubborn), he’s not easily swayed, especially not by the most argumentative of his companions.

encroaching on question 7 territory here i guess, but i have trouble really explaining it so this is how i gotta say it. cosmas took up/was put into a caregiver/protector/leader role early on in his life, and chose to continue to be that person rather than look out solely for his own survival. he has more care for the common people than expected of his position because he knows what it’s like, he’s been one of them, but there’s also a possessive aspect to it, everything he has investment in (emotional or material) belongs to him. he is like a livestock guardian to me. born from my own reluctance to trade my people units i guess, they’re just little stats in a menu, but some of these offers are shady as hell… what are you going to do with them… guess there’s a lot of compassion in that guy, i’m just really caught up in his personal issues that your chosen questions don’t really touch on lol.

8. What was their Triumph? Do they take pride in it?

apex of brilliance, he got his hands all over a whole star system. where exactly it is, what it or any of the planets are called, who fucking knows. maybe one day i’ll know but i am Not acquainted with the. whatever it’s called when it’s geography for space. i mean i guess it’d be astronomy but the implications are different. anyways, he’s very proud. sure his domain as a rogue trader is much larger, but it doesn’t feel like he earned it like he did with his star system. i think i picked this one in particular because of the int stat boost...

14. Who was the most important person in their life prior to becoming a Rogue Trader? Is that person still in their life now?

his right hand, his enforcer, his sister, damia (after cosmas and damian because i had to). they’ve been together since early days when cosmas had his own gang of unfortunate kids, though only he and her made it to adulthood. they’re not bio siblings but they basically adopted each other. he left her to take care of things back home while he went to the koronus expanse, so they’re cut off from each other during the game. i’d say they generally get along and work together well, but they don’t always agree and cosmas Has To Have His Way Always, which can and has caused friction. i also think their relationship was strained by [question 9 related event] which they left unresolved ^_^ he misses her but trusts her not to fuck things up while he’s gone. she’s always fallen into following him since she was the younger one, he took on a guardian role for her, she’s his best subordinate, there was a lot of potential left untapped there. maybe even surpressed. i don’t think they see each other again for a long time, a lot changes during then, damia feels sort of abandoned, but she also doesn’t want to take second place by cosmas’ side again. their reunion might not be the happiest.

before writing this my idea for damia lacked conflict, which made imagining her really boring. things can always change, and she’s still not really a character, but now that i’ve laid down some issues there i like her a lot more.

fun fact, their stupid nicknames for each other are cosy and damsy. it came to me one day and then never left my brain, so this is real lore now.

[dlartistanon]

Any thoughts or guesses about Liz's personality before she became fragmented (both mentally and physically, I suppose)? How will she interact differently with the Followers and other operators on Rhodes, if she regained her "original" personality?

This is a next-to-impossible question to answer because even with the crumbs we've been given, it's kind of hard to build off of. Any thoughts or guesses about her original personality are pure speculation.

If I had to come up with something though... she came from a distinguished family, just based on how much the importance of bloodlines is stressed in Sarkaz culture. That kind of background is really the only way I can reason how she has such powerful Arts capabilities.

So we have a daughter of a family belonging to an upper echelon of Sarkaz society. Liz could've been sheltered and had the type of manners one would expect from this kind of character. Privately educated, since it's noted she has an instinctual understanding of the human body in regards to medicine, which would also require knowledge of medical science, since I don't think that is something that could've been instilled into her via what the Confessors did. So her medical expertise feels like it was ingrained within her before... everything happened.

Demure, curious, pacifistic, soft-spoken, prone to daydreaming, perhaps even quite naive to intimacy, regardless of her familiarity with the human anatomy, based on her voice lines. Feels a lot like an ingenue.

However--Skade has this old artwork of Nightingale

And to me, it's interesting how Liz also possesses some elements of Gothic and horror imagery and symbolism (especially her Witch Feast skin), and how it feels right at home with her. So I can just as easily imagine her as a Gothic heroine (simultaneously hero and victim, threatened, spurred by an investigative spirit) if her story contains the conventionality of Gothic literature... and we know that she has a relationship with the very Gothic Confessarii.

I'm not entirely sure how her dynamic with others would change, but if it's line with the above, then she'd probably be more proactive as a heroine would be.

[yellow-faerie]

Okay in reference to your tags on the Bode post you reblogged from me: I kinda had a theory you were the anon! And I'm honestly very glad to find someone who feels the same way about him because I haven't seen many other people (other than my sister) who do!

If you don't mind me asking, I have two questions for you: what did you think of the rest of Survivor, and what sort of Star Wars fan fic do you write? I saw you mentioned it in your bio!

Lol I do think I went through a few of your posts before sending that ask - but yes, I do agree! Bode is a lot more complicated than I think a lot of people give him credit for; he's a father and a man haunted by a lot of loss which doesn't excuse his actions, but does explain them and make me feel a good deal of empathy to him. I think there's actually a line when they're in the ISB base where Cal calls him a traitor and Bode is like...no, I'm a father

Which is really not an excuse for killing people Bode (but is a very good explanation for how he got where he is)

You said it a lot more eloquently lol

(interestingly, Bode is a sort of parallel to Anakin in some ways - killing and betraying people they see as family/very close friends for the people they love, even though it changes them into something unrecognisable that the person they love can't quite reconcile with)

I do not mind questions at all!

For fanfic, because that's the shorter answer, I write pretty much anything - legends, Kotor, swtor (to some extent, I haven't played through enough of it yet to do proper fic), og, rebels, tcw, extended universe stuff (and even a bit of the sequels although that has to be veru handpicked lol)

I have interacted with so much of the SW universe to some extent and it's such a good sandbox that I will dabble in writing anything lol

(currently I'm doing a lot of Kotor stuff as I finished survivor and decided to fill the hole with yet another playthrough of my favourite unfinished trilogy <3)

As for Jedi Survivor, Imma put my thoughts under the cut because I have...a lot of them lol (there will be spoilers)

I love the graphics, so SO much

Each planet felt different and unique and reminded me how much I loved to play JFO

Also the worlds felt a lot bigger? I think it's because I didn't really do much side stuff, just kinda beelined the plot so a lot of the side quest stuff was just kinda there as fun background NPC chatter lkl

MERRICAL! MERRICAL! MERRICAL!

It's being survivors of two separate genocides by the same tyrannical government and even when you search elsewhere, you still belong at each others side

And it's the Merrin talking Cal down when he's about to kill Denvik and it's Merrin giving Cal space to work out if he wants a relationship or if that wouldn't work but letting him know her own intentions

That moment on Jedha where she calms him down from a nightmare but then takes her own comfort just by being near?

And it's Merrin in general lol my darlingest fave <3

Also! After that kiss on Jedha after everyone has gone back in, my brother said (as a joke) "and now they have sex!" And then it immediately cuts to morning

Iconic moment

Also on Jedha - spamels! Someone out there went desert creature - so, a camel - a camel in space - so a space camel - a spamel

Which just makes me think of the tinned meat which is a...really weird thing to be thinking about

Greez opened a canteena! Monk, I love him - also Mosey

In fact, all of Ramblers Reach, I really like that they gave you a main base that's so...connected to people in this game??

Also that garden, I could spend all day in that garden

And the High Republic stuff! I still think it's weird that everyone is treating it as if it's ancient history when it's two hundred years ago BUT I really love the aesthetic and the story

I tried getting into the high republic books a while back but only managed one before I had to return them to the library, but this game has made me really excited for the high republic game and has inspired me to try and read the books again

Shout-out to Dagan Gera for being sufficiently unhinged for me to like him, and Rayvis for giving off massive Kotor!Mandalorian vibes

And Bode was a very interesting twist villain as looking back in the game, you can see it almost

(also my older brother called him being a traitor twelve minutes after meeting him which was either incredibly perceptive or he saw it online and is thing to make me think he's incredibly perceptive - either way, he got ridiculously pleased when he was proved right which did not fit with the mood of Cordova's murder lol)

And Kata! It's definitely going to be some time before she fully trusts Cal etc. etc. HOWEVER, we now have a daughter and that is wonderful (I'm living for the found family)

And CERE!

I WAS EMOTIONALLY DEVASTATED IT'S LITERALLY THE SECOND TIME CAL HAS HAD TO CRADLE THE BODY OF HIS DEAD MASTER YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND HOW MUCH THIS HURTS ME

And it was the way Greez was so uncharacteristically ANGRY after Cere's death - and just- dhhfjebidnde

On a less devastating note - Cal, my dude, should have had to have had time to recover from both the slash wound from Dagan and the blaster shot from Bode which were both to the upper torso

Like...they caused enough damage in the fight to be a weakness but you can just walk it off apparently??

I don't think so

(I am going to write fic about this, probably)

Zee - I was so suspicious of Zee to begin with because she was so cheery but her voice kinda sounded like Nikola from the Magnus Archives and like-

Yeah I was fully expecting betrayal from Zee right up until we got back to Rambler's reach and I realised...she's just cheery, that's just her personality

I talked to her the bare minimum lol, I couldn't get creepy talking doll out of my head

That beginning sequence on Coruscant though?? That moment with the Jedi Temple where Cal realises what's happened and you can see the horror and bone deep resignation within him (and that's probably the first time that he properly starts wondering if he can do anything about the empire, after all there's that whole plot where people are like...settle down a bit)

I honestly wasn't that attached to the rest of Cal's crew who died - apart from Mags, literally JUSTICE FOR MAGS 2023, SHE DESERVED BETTER

There were so many little bits that made me genuinely laugh and feel things throughout the game and it felt a lot like Star Wars which is a big thing in its own right

Also Cordova being there threw me off but it was a nice surprise, if a bit weird lol as I was fairly convinced he was dead/in the unknown regions - but hell, I kinda understand it (even if us finding him in the last game might have made his appearance a bit more understandable)

I do have some things I'm not so happy with (some story choices in particular, and the way they presented Cal's slow descent to the dark side being the main ones) but I'm overall really happy with the game

It was the sequel that jfo deserved and it was it's own game in it's own right and I really enjoyed playing it - now I've finished the story, I'll probably stop doing such intense playing, but I do genuinely want to 100% complete it which says a lot, because I don't usually have the patience to do that

There's so much I could probably say that I can't think of now (and I don't think I've said anything about BD-1 which is a travesty of the highest proportions because my boy <3 I missed you <3 I'm so glad you're here and thriving <3) and I'm not really getting into the things I disliked because it would bring the post down (and also I need to be a bit more eloquent and a bit more awake for that one lol)

Anyway, thank you very much for the ask :D it made my evening, ngl, I love talking about star wars

[peerbear]

Cinematography Class - Exercise 1 - A Sense of Home

Am I Really Home Again?

Over the years I’ve lived in Australia, Germany and Brazil for different periods of time, but Scotland has always been a place to come back to. This is the place where I grew up. It is the place I have always called home. It is the place where I was born, but I don’t have any Scottish heritage. My parents are German and Brazilian. If you are born and grow up in a country where you are not originally from it gives you a different sense of belonging and idenitity. Because you belong to all of the cultures that you have grown up with, but at the same time you don’t belong to any of them. It can be lonely when you are unable to find comfort in a single one of them. But when you do it is very special. This sense of feelling at home and a stranger in my country and my identity is something I have always been aware of. It is always on my mind.

Home is a very emotional concept. For a long time I’ve said home is not the place but the people. Last semster I went to study abroad in Canada and since then I’ve come back to my definition of the word. Home is not a place or the people, there are always great people wherever you go. For me home is a personal feeling of comfort and belonging. I have also come to the conclusion that home can also be a lonely ‘metaphorical place’ or even state of mind and this like everything else is always subject to change. It is not something that you always share with other people, often it is something that you have to create or build on your own. Saying this right now feels dramatic as I have moved back into my family home for the time being while I wait for the flat Eva and I have lined up to hopefully move into soon. You would think this is home and that living in my parents flat, a place I have always called home my whole life would be my home still. But I don’t know that this is the case for me anymore. I adore my parents and they are wonderful to be around, but I don’t want to live in this flat anymore, that part of my life feels like its been done. I don’t feel that this is my home, it will always be a base to come back to, but the meaning of this place has changed for me. I found this so interesting as initially when I heard the brief to take photos/footage that demonstrate a sense of home, I thought I would revert to older thoughts and take photos of this space. I didnt take a single photo in the house because it just didn’t feel right.

This weekend I brought some of my close friends to my favourite beach for the first time, its called Tyninghame. I’ve been going there with my family since I can remember and its always been my favourite place. Whenever I go there I feel at ease and inspired. The ocean calms me, bodies of water ground me. For me I feel at home when I’m there in the nature. I feel like I belong. The photos I took were an exploration of me and my friends in this space where I feel at home. Here they are in greater detail:

Article from ASC:

Total Immersion for Avatar: The Way of Water

I chose this article because I am obsessed with water and I am keen to specialise in water cinematography for film. I know that is very specific, but it is something I have wanted to do since making Bodies of Water last year. As I said before water is a happy safe space for me and I feel it would be great to work in a place that offers me this kind of tranquility. Sadly, I believe this film doesn’t really offer that kind of tranquility that I am talking about. Although I have not yet seen it from what I have gathered its very much about destruction and unrest within this beautiful ocean world. The Avatar sequel is filmed by a different cinematographer to the first one, this time it is filmed by Russell Carpenter.

The article went into great detail describing lots of equipment that Carpenter used for the film, a lot of which I have not heard of. From what I gathered it mainly demonstrates how complex and difficult this film was to film. It was filmed with many cameras, mostly of two groups which were live action and 3D virtual cameras that needed to match up perfectly as moving images for the CGI animation to work.

For some of the water scenes they struggled a lot with reflections. The way Carpenter dealt with this was by using clear plastic beads layered together on top of the water to stop light from coming through this way there were no unwanted reflections. For me I would not want to hide reflections in water, I think its one of its many and most beautiful attributes that mesmerise me. I am aware that this is done to control as much of the lighting in the film as possible. However, I would find it hard to manipulate it this way. Carpenter himself says “The light should be a living and breathing expression of the life of Pandora.” From the stills I have seen he has achieved this.

Something to note is that although this film is highly technically skilled and moving the film industry forward with new technology, it is important to acknowledge that there are problems with the story - which culturally appropriates indegenious people and makes money off of a screening (eventually streaming) that is based on colonialism. This is something that the director of the film argues aganist, however, it is literally what happens in the film.

The film is supposed to be about belonging and finding where you fit in the world, which I find fitting, in spite of the plot, as this correlates to the home aspect in the first part of this exercise.

Message of the week: I have promised myself that I will be reading more this year and that I will actually contribute a lot more to my blog. This is something that in previous years I found very difficult, but while writing this post I have realised it is more fun and even therapeutic than I remember.

Stay tuned for some queer content.

[rantingoverbadfic]

'The last of my line' bullshit

I have read so many Harry Potter fics where the authors tromp around on the fact that he is the last of the Potters. The last of his family. The last of his line. And that is true, to the extent that we are making the assumption that the Potters are a patrilineal family and that wizards need one man and one woman to produce a child and the woman is expected to take on the mans name. All very boring, traditional and patriarchal assumptions, dare I even say, very muggle assumptions?

But we don't actually know whether it is just the unreliable narrator Harry who applies the metric of his very conservative muggle upbringing to all areas of the wizarding world where fact is unknown.

And in and of itself, being the last of the line doesn't mean all that much. Everyone of us who is still childless is the last of their line. I am the last of my line, because fifty isn't as far away as it once upon a time seemed and I have decided against having a kid. By that definition, I am the last of my line.

But since we are dealing with wizards - why is it even a thing that one of them needs to surrender their name upon marriage? Especially with purebloods, who are all so fucking proud of the fact that there is nary a muggleborn in their genealogy, and you would willingly give up your claim on half of your ancestry? Wouldn't you instead be proud of of the fact that your child is going to be able to proudly proclaim their belonging to two ancient lines? Though, since Draco is expected to inherit the Black title despite being a Malfoy, I suppose it is just the matter of the name that you lose, not the possibility of inheritance based on blood relation. But why do you need different sexes to have a child? They have magic, what about potions, what about rituals, what about transformation? Do you mean to tell me that in all that long time none of them managed to come with a different method of conceiving than penis and vagina? I am not even sure that wizards even have something like an in-vitro? Not even a method to recombine the DNA of more than two presumptive parents and simply using a surrogate to bring it to term?

But where it gets even more ridiculous, is those fics where Harry being the last of his line somehow means that the line of Gryffindor/Slytherin/Merlin/Arthur/what have you will go extinct if he doesn't have babies. Because he secretly is the long lost heir to those lines. Which is... absolute bullshit? Especially if he comes by that ancestry from his mothers side and your society really is of the boring patrilineal inheritance type, because in that case it already is extinct and doesn't depend on him having babies?

People don't seem to realize how few ancestors we actually have. Go back far enough, like thousand years, and if your family hasn't moved around a lot, like the majority of medieval societies (not everyone, I get that, but in general there wasn't a lot of migration over long distances, like, continent-spanning), that I can pretty much guarantee that everyone is related to everyone. The bigger problem would be to find who has the bigger claim, because at some point it is all just fractions. And considering that the wizards practice throwing their squib children into the muggle world and expecting others to take care of them, like some sort of person-shaped cuckoo, you have even more of a guarantee that there are umpteen Slytherin and Gryffindor heirs running around.

The only way you get to the extinction of a line is if Slytherin or Gryffindor died childless, which then has shit to do with Harry needing to have babies. To get a line extinct, it needs to be cut off very near the starting point or it is going to be unmanageble, and we are not even talking about all the bastards. Say, your ancestor X had one child, and that child had two children and they both died before age of ten - you better hope that the middle of the chain hasn't remarried or fucked around. At some point you need to have so many people dead before producing a child, that it would be completely ridiculous and unmanageble to get a line extinct, that nothing beyond a world-ending disaster would manage it. And if a line has persisted for thousand years for Harry to end up its last link? Yeah, he is definitely not the last of that line.

[msviscoml6]

FMP Conclusion

Sunday 7th April 2023

This blog post includes a comprehensive reflection of my final product.

My final major project at university is a time I will never forget. It was one of the hardest times of my life. My Grandmother, Brenda, and I were extremely close. She'd be the one I'd phone on my walk back from uni, telling her about my day even though she didn't have a clue what I was doing. Losing her was shocking but I'm so glad that I had the relationship that I did with her. I could blab on about how wonderful my Gran was all day because of how much I really did love her. So, basing my project on her and the family home that I lost with her, was one of the most perfect ways to grieve and express myself creatively.

From the start of this project, when I decided that I wanted to go down this route, I knew it needed to be just right. Collecting her belongings from the house made me realise that these objects were the only things I had left from her other than my memories. This sparked a creative fire inside of me, and I couldn't wait to get started experimenting.

The process of this project took endless turns. From photographs, printing, exposing, and photoshopping to mapping the items- I frankly do feel as if I tried every route I could. But it wasn't easy to come up with these experimentations. A lot of thought, reflection and emotional thinking went into all of my experimentations which I believe makes my experimentations just as strong as my final outcome. What I enjoy about the other elements I produced as a result of my project, is they're mine. The polyprint sheets I created out of my Granny's peals I think are a beautiful piece, and one I will frame and keep in my home in the future; adding another reason why this project means so much to me. There were complications in my projects, there were days where I was in a rut and did not know how to progress. But, I got out of them purely by experimenting and pushing. I think about what my project would have been if I hadn't thought of that one idea, or went down a completely different path.

I feel as if I worked well this term. Unlike other terms, I have been consistently motivated to continue moving forward. This could be down to the context of my project or my maturing as a designer. Managing and organising this project has been the best since I started uni. My Excel organisation document meant that I could see my daily to-do lists, map out my weeks and balance other projects on the side. The list also held me accountable for not finishing any work, meaning I was more motivated to keep pushing to get everything done that needed to be completed. Having a weekly roundup helped me reflect on how I had been working and what I could do better. My sketchbooks have been a great addition to my workflow. Ditching the lined notebooks to a blank page allowed me to stop being so particular about being neat and to just do it. These organisation and documentation changes will come with me as I leave university.

What was refreshing about this project was the amount of physicality there was. Apart from creating the house key, type and grid layouts for my cards and digital measurements, everything else I did was physical. As I've mentioned previously, I think this is extremely well suited to my project because of how much of a creative child I was, constantly getting my hands messy in art projects -way before I even comprehended what a computer was! My future is looking promising towards working for an agency, and in a digital era, I'm sure physical projects won't come up o often. Therefore, I'm so glad that my major project took such a physical approach.

My final outcome, on a personal level, I am very proud of. It is a representation and conclusion of the past few months, and I am so pleased to see it all come together. But, from a constructive perspective, some points need improving for it to be exhibited in the Grad Show. Such as the inside keys, for example, they could have done with tweaking to be cleaner. The vinyl on the outside of my box is very precise and modern, and I feel when you open the box, the inside box lid lets that feeling down. The vinyl isn't straight on my box, and to improve on this I intend to screenprint it in the future. My cards are a little hard to get out of my box, and some finger holes would have been a nice touch. Some of my prints, I worry, are too faded or not interesting enough to be as large as they are on A5. Using cyanotypes was a bit of a nightmare, but to improve in the future (and whist the proper sun is out!) I intend to redo my cyanotypes to make the prints more visually captivating. All of these things don't change the way I judge my project. I am still so satisfied with the outcome and I hope that I made my Grandparents feel proud of what I achieved.

This project is one I will always remember. Not only from an emotional level but from a perspective of how amazing my final term has been. I value the course and everybody I have met on it, so for this to be my last project is saddening. However, I am looking forward to the next stage of my life and I'm grateful for what Vis Com has taught me for me to be in this position.

[justyvettethings]

Random astro observations 🌸 #15

I'm not a professional astrologer so please don't take this personally

Capricorn Mercuries are always prepaired for EVERYTHING. Every. Single. Thing. They have plan B for plan A and plan C for plan B. Why? Because of their unconditional sense of responsibility and reliability.

The position of the Sun can be interpreted based on it's position in the different hemispheres of the chart. Keep in mind this is very brief and general explanation.

~ Sun in the left hemisphere (around the Ascendant) is considered to be really beneficial for leader position in life. Also the person can be self-centered or even egoistic if more planets are present on the left side of the chart. The lesson here is to learn to be more open to people and the environment.

~ Sun in the bottom hemisphere (around Imum coeli) indicates later succes in life or accomplishing the higher manifestation of the soul after the 40th birthday. When talking about a woman with Sun in this position it's very likely that she'll be forced to wait for succes and form a family and home on her own first. People with shadowed Sun (Sun in the bottom of the chart) have a high chance of developing extrasensory perception in some part of their life whether they like it or not. When I say shadowed Sun I mean the fact that when a planet is positioned in the bottom of the chart, it gets "in the dark" and it's kept there until the second part of life.

~ Sun in the right hemisphere (around the Descendant) belongs to the selfless individuals. They depend on their surroundings more compared to others. This can be double-edged sword, because they will have a lot of friends and social contacts, but they also may get tired from absorbing all this energy and lose themselves in the social environment. These people are also the people helpers, they'll never reject providing help to others, but they need to learn how to help themselves first.

~ Sun in the top hemisphere (around Medium coeli) is favorable placement, because it's double the brightess for the Sun (The Sun shines bright and the top of the chart makes it shine even brighter). People with this Sun will get successful early in life with the help of good aspects, but overall my experience tells me that most of the times Sun on the top will devop earlier and faster even without any major aspects or conjunctions. Now, there's a situation where the opposite effect may occur, namely the inert Sun. I've seen it two times in the chart of older people, who haven't accomplished anything major in life and just lived day-to-day without big ambition and energy, which is typical for this position. The explanation for this, in my opinion, is harshly aspected Sun or the "extreme brightness effect", because nothing too much of something is good. Double the power of something may be self-destructive.

As you may know, Mars got into the sign of Scorpio around the end of October and the beginning of November (I can't remember the exact date). So the effect of Mars on my body and health was definitely present. Firstly, you may get horny more often than normal (I know it sounds cliché but it's true) and secondly, inflammation processes may start to happen, especially in the reproductive system and the lungs, so be aware. Also something weird, but I need to share it with you guys, avoid getting mad during this transit (although it's natural to experience angry bursts during Mars in Scorpio), because it'll be more emotional than normal and you may start to "angry cry" during arguments.

With Venus Saturn aspects, there's almost 100% chance that the person will struggle to find a partner because of the unimaginable criteria, standards or expectations they may have for others. Another important thing about the aspects is that there needs to be a line between love life and monetary needs, because people tend to mesh these two things together. For men this means that they expect women to be attracted to their money, so they start to think they need to make a lot of money and only then women will like them. Women on the other hand tend to search for partners who can provide financially and that's their number one priority. In both cases the lesson is that finances should not be the most prominent factor in the romantic relationship.

[bcitisthelight]

So.Where to begin.

What you should know is, this isn’t my fault. It’s @misskirby who is to blame for this. She has this AMAZING fic, it’s called Benediction. I like to read it weekly, for sustenance. Go read that first if you want...literally any of this to make sense.  So there’s this passage which stole every marble I had, wherein Anakin is explaining the etymology of the Huttese he uses to refer to his children (with a really thorough explanation on Luke’s name. 

Anakin scrubbed the back of his neck. “Huttese doesn’t have—words of love. It doesn’t have… benedictions. It’s kind of a cruel language. There’s a whole case for groveling and then—there’s really only the word for love.”

“And that’s abiya?” Obi-Wan said.

Anakin’s grin was crooked. “No. That’s luke. In the Tatooine dialect, at least, it’s luke. We used—things, mostly, to—you know.”

“Luke,” Obi-Wan said, tasting the word, looking down at the sleeping child he’d just been holding, one who carried his parents’ love for him in his name. For the first time in all his life, he wondered what his own name meant, and who it was who had given it to him.

“Abiya is the milk from a flowering cactus,” Anakin said. “It’s very sweet. And rare. I only ever had it once, with my—my mother.”

Obi-Wan turned to look at Anakin again. The expression on Anakin’s face was raw, intense, but Obi-Wan forced himself to look at it, out of respect for the memories of a woman he owed all of Anakin to; the one who had protected him, loved him, when Obi-Wan hadn’t known he had existed at all.

“It also means the morning rain,” Anakin said, waving a hand. “A lot of words in Huttese have many definitions. Abiya, though—it’s a relief. A respite. Pure joy.”

Obi-Wan swallowed around the burning in his throat. “I see,” he said, strangled.

Anakin looked away, his throat bobbing. “Luke only has the one definition, though. There’s only one word derived from it, too, lukkali. Noun and a verb. A krayt dragon whelp, or—krayt dragons, the mothers, their carry their whelps in their mouths, because there’s no place on Tatooine that’s safer, so it’s also the act of doing that.”

I LOVE this passage. I love all of the work it does emotionally, narratively, etc. It’s the best. And yesterday morning, I zeroed in on a specific line. “In the Tatooine dialect” Except hold on, I thought to myself. Anakin was born a slave. What if, when he says the Tatooine dialect, what he means is...the dialect of the slave class? 

So here’s the thing. The Hutt society is based on the idea that the Hutts are the prime race, there was the whole Hutt empire thing, I mean the holiday the Boonta Eve Classic is supposed to commemorate is literal holiday that commemorates a Hutt ascending to godhood, during the process of which all of his slaves renew their vows of fealty. It’s not just a class system, where you can you know, in theory move between classes. This is a strict caste system, which you are born into or are captured into. Which got me thinking - what if the language of Huttese has a dialect system...based on caste? We see examples of this sort of socio-linguistic pattern in actual real life!! Tamil and Arabic are some pretty famous examples where certain historical societies who use that language break down that language based on caste, with their different varieties having all sorts of different meanings and cultural connotations, but there’s a ton of them. And in fact, there’s tons of societies which base their dialects on social or other cultural factors.

There’s even a name for it: diglossia, where a society as a whole uses one language but different parts use radically different dialects and forms of that language in different circumstances. Now, strictly historically, how diglossia typically works is that one dialect is seen as a low (L) dialect and one is seen as a high (H) dialect. And get this - in diglossic societies which also contain really severe social inequality - in some cases the dialects can seem almost unintelligible to those who speak the opposite dialect And then based on that passage I posted above, I thought...what if the unintelligibility in this certain case, specifically the unintelligibility between “high” huttese and the dialect spoken by slaves wasn’t surrounding the actual words or structure...what if it was /context/.

So basically in the last thirty six hours I’ve....I’ve made an entire headcanon on Huttese as a trifold diglossic dialect system. I’m putting it under the cut because God its, its a lot guys. Its a lot. Also? It’s written as though its an entry in sociolinguistic glossary of sort, because of course it is. Who wrote that glossary? Space nerds. Nerds in space. Nerds in space from Coruscant University who need research credits for their space masters degrees. 

For the purposes of this glossary, the modern caste system of the Hutt Clan has been recorded below. 1. Masters 2. Servants* 3. Slaves The reader should be aware that there is technically a high caste called “Grand Masters”, which historically was comprised of members of the Grand Hutt Council and their families. This caste used a dialect usually referred to as “Archaic Huttese”, and is the source dialect of Huttese, originally developed on the Hutt home planet of Nal Hutta. However, this language has long fallen out of common use.  The reader should also note that belonging to the Servant caste does not imply any quality of servitude per se. Rather, this is the caste of all ordinary free people who live under Hutt Rule. This designation is believed to have originated in the understanding within the ancient Hutt empire that any being who lived under Hutt dominion was by rights a servant to any Hutt who should need them.  The dialects of the castes are as follows.  1. The dialect of the master class is also known as “High Huttese”. The common dialect of all high-born Hutts, and widely adopted by non-Hutts who own slaves or hold positions of authority within Hutt society. This dialect is used in all interactions involving a master, whether between a group of masters or a master and a lower-caste member. With Hutt families whose bloodlines have been regarded as a part of the master class for several centuries, there is a curious strain of monolinguism in an otherwise highly polylinguistic society, with many high born Hutt families refusing to learn even the fundamentals of standard Basic. The reasoning for this seems to be a cultural belief held by the masters that any person of a lower caste bends to the needs of the masters, rather than the other way around. The historical risk of a master’s displeasure upon improper address has led to this dialect becoming the default in conversation unless you are absolutely sure of another person’s caste, since historically the risk of offense should you choose wrong was often very high. There are at least three different cases of blood feuds between members of Hutt Master families which involved the use of a lower caste dialect as a cause of offense. 

This default status of this dialect means that when a person in the Republic references “Huttese”, they are almost always referencing the master dialect. The master dialect is what is taught in the schools of the Republic. This has led to a sort of self-perpetuating cycle. As interactions with the rest of the galaxy have shifted to singular dialect, the use of the master dialect has become more solidified within common Hutt Society, even when the speaker is aware that Low Huttese would be acceptable. 

It should be noted that this exception applies only to free people. Slaves are required by Hutt law to use this dialect when speaking Huttese to any non-slave they interact with, even if that person does not belong to the Hutt caste system. The Hutt law imposing this requirement famously reads, “Because all beings are above a slave, a slave should speak to every being in the tongue of their masters.” The penalty for a slave addressing a master in anything but the high dialect is often some sort of physical punishment. A rather gruesome tradition which is kept in force to this day.  2. The servant dialect is also called “Low Huttese”. While originally it was relatively distinct from both the dialect spoken by the masters and the dialect spoken by the slaves of Hutt Society, it has since suffered a bit of stagnation. There are many factors which could cause this to occur. As the Republic opened up more and more channels of commerce to Hutt Space, and the Master dialect has become the norm outside of Hutt Society, true enforcement of the linguistic standard for non-enslaved beings has fallen much to the wayside in the last two standard centuries or so. Modern Low Huttese dialect is thus mostly similar to the Master dialect in grammar and generally accepted vocabulary. However, a remaining diversion exists which is based on pronunciation, and a significant reliance on rather course slang on the part of those who speak Low Huttese. It has been said by Huttese linguistic scholars that while High Huttese is a an excellent dialect for threats, Low Huttese is an excellent dialect for swearing.  3.  The slave dialect has no name in any official Hutt or Republic record. It is not recognized by any authority in either written or spoken form. In fact, generally the only beings who know or speak the slave dialect are those who are or who once were enslaved, and their loved ones. The dialect differs rather severely from high huttese - though primarily through meaning and cultural context, rather than actual structure. 

It seems that this “hidden” diversion was born of necessity, rather than choice. The masters didn’t like the idea of their slaves having a way of communication the masters were not privy to, and so would punish any slave caught speaking a dialect which was immediately recognizable as being outside of the master dialect. The slave class in the ancient Hutt empire adapted to this by taking the dialect forced upon them, and manipulating a large portion of it for their use. Rather ingeniously, they seem to have developed an entire dialect specifically ordered so that they could express themselves freely without being automatically targeted by a passing master or authority figure. This is the vital distinction: words in the master dialect often have vastly different or even opposite meanings when used in the slave dialect. Added to this complexity are the wide range of connotations and contexts for each word. An interesting note to the slave dialect is that generally, the more abstract a word is, the fewer meanings or connotations it has, whereas often the most culturally impactful words and concepts are taken from simple or every day words. There is only one word for love in the slave dialect - “Luke” - because it is seen as pure, and when given, unconditional. When this word is used, there is no linguistic distinction between platonic or romantic love - the slave class instead relies on idioms or proverbs to express the difference in feeling. In direct contrast, there are nine different ways a person can use the verb which means “to attach”, ranging from the mundane (“Attach these two machine parts together”) to the taboo (“to cause another person to be enslaved”) There are some words which are unique to this dialect, however. One example is the word for “freedom”, which in the slave dialect is “telena”. 

The master dialect’s word for freedom is the same as their word for authoritarian power. Freedom within the master caste, then, was specifically associated with the ability to exercise dominion over the world around them. Members of the slave class, as individuals who constantly suffered under that same authoritarian power, showed a collective repugnance for the association between freedom and the very dehumanization they themselves suffered. Drawing from the use of the anakin plant as one of the most culturally and spiritually significant symbols in the caste (See entry on Anakin, a flowering plant which originated in the deserts of Tatooine but which has since been domesticated throughout the Outer Rim) they instead chose to develop a word based off the Hutt verb “to bloom” One common expression amongst the slave class is “Telena telen ali anakin” - “Freedom blooms with the anakin” Those interested in the study of this dialect, then, are well warned that they should take great care in attempting to communicate in this dialect (if they can find a teacher, that is - many slaves or even those who were formally enslaved are understandably reluctant to give up what is likely one of the only means of expression of not only agency, but of caste solidarity. I have seen two former slaves go from total strangers to kindred spirits in the space of five minutes, upon discovering by means of dialect each others mutual experience.)

[lordelmelloi2]

Reines uses her unsavory jokes to cope with her history of being abused/almost killed at the hands of mage society

While we’re on the topic of Reines’ being absorbed in the Clock Tower’s politics and it shaping her entire worldview, this joke (one of many incestuous jokes she makes) is another big view into the way that she copes with it. 

Reines, who from a young age has had literally no choice but to participate in the Clock Tower politics because of Kayneth’s death, has been enmeshed in these issues from the start. The conservative notion of magic circuit distribution and treating people like simply a womb or a sire in order to better magic circuit distribution is something she’s well aware of, even more so because female mages are regularly treated like simply wombs that will help create even greater mages further in time. It is not uncommon for young mages, teenagers and adults, to be in arranged marriages to ensure political gain or for greater magic circuit count. 

I’ve spoken about it before, but Reines believes that mages are supposed to behave in a way that’s more beneficial to political gain rather than try to walk the boundary of humanity and magus. 

What this means for her, who considers herself more mage than human, is that she will readily joke from a political point of view - but more specifically joke about incestuously eloping with Waver. 

Waver, who considers all mages to be fundamentally human, is absolutely disgusted by it. And it should be noted as well that Waver also routinely teaches mages to consider their humanity a bit more as a fundamental of his practice in Modern Magecraft instruction. Waver may identify himself as a mage, but he is well-known for trying to balance what it is to be “human” with being a “mage”. He is more concerned with being effective because those he teaches are secure in themselves as people, rather than suffering under mage society’s ideologies that require one to basically consider themselves second to their pursuit of the Root or anything else. 

The issue with Reines is this, though. Why does she keep specifically joking about incest with Waver? 

Well, for a girl whose life is entirely dictated by political workings in the Clock Tower, who has exactly one person in a position of authority in her life who doesn’t believe in said politics and yet considers himself a mage, he’s an easy target. But more importantly, she wants to prove something. 

For Reines, who was almost assassinated at a young age, the notion of being protected by others on the basis of her being a human ... was basically nonexistent. She is 15. There is nobody who is stretching themselves thin to try and rescue her or even comfort her from the torment of the political workings of the Clock Tower. Her life is constantly at risk. There is no other option for her, she believes, than to consider herself a mage. 

But Waver is different. Waver, who calls himself a mage, acts so completely un-mage-like that he’s labelled a heretic. Not only that, he doesn’t hold any of the political ideology that denotes a “true mage” at all, and on top of that, he actively rebels against it, teaching the opposite in his classes. 

Reines wants a justification for the suffering that she went through. 

If she can somehow suggest that Waver is Just Like The Other Mages, she will be right, and the suffering she endured as a young girl at the hands of the politics of the Clock Tower would be justified. It would mean she could skip the work of having to ask why she had to go through any of it in the first place. It means that she doesn’t have to weep or mourn or get angry that she was almost killed, that she’s regularly almost killed, and she doesn’t have to think about how fucked up the place that she’s forced to exist in is. Reines does not have an out from mage society. She is next in line to be a Lord. For her to give that up would mean throwing the El Melloi house into even further disarray, and it might truly disintegrate the family and destabilize them enough to let them be totally wiped out again. 

She has an immense burden on her shoulders and she’s coping with it by suggesting to the only person in her life who would say “this isn’t right, and they shouldn’t do this to you” that in actuality, the people who want this Are right, and that what happened to her was simply a matter of course. 

It is very common for traumatized people to normalize the abuse that happened to them as a coping mechanism. It’s easier to normalize it than to fight against it, sometimes, because fighting against it means processing a lot of pain and having to face that the world was cruel to you. 

Waver, to her, is a figure who is in her own words “blindingly bright”. He represents a future and an existence that says that the world is not naturally that cruel, and that kindness should be the base standard of how one acts and carries oneself. 

She does not actually want to be hurt by him. But she feels, at this time, that she has no other choice than to suggest that he, too, would hurt her. Would drag her deeper into the abyss that is the political ideology that mages have - especially of the Aristocratic faction, the right-wing faction that the El Melloi family belongs to, the faction that 10 years ago told Waver that a mage’s bloodline is everything and that nothing else matters. 

One day she might find out that she’s wrong, and one day she might learn that she's suffering, and that she didn’t deserve to go through what she went through as a child, as a teen, and what she might go through in the future. 

Quite frankly, she just needs the right support, is all. And to know that she’ll be protected in the future. That’s all she really wants. It’s a very simple wish. But it would mean a lot to her, who was not protected in the past, and has to fend for herself as well. It would do her good to have the idea that a mage isn’t just a bundle of circuits reinforced to her. And it would also do her good to know that she is allowed to act like a teen girl at times, having girl’s talks with others, talking about nonsense, having fun. Gray provides her with a bit of an outlet, which is good, but really, she needs much more than this. Ideally she should be outside of mage society as a whole. But I suppose there’s a lot more work that has to be done before she can hope to be freed from any of that. 

[staygolddindjarin]

Grief

Chapter two: Rebellion

Din Djarin x Reader x Cassian Andor

Series Summary: Raised on Mandalore, born into a bloodline of warriors, no one ever expected for the daughter of a Clan leader to go rogue. Leaving the life of security and making the journey to fight in the war against the empire meant many things... giving up the way of the Mandalore, and giving up a solid future. A future that involves an arranged marriage to a foundling from another clan.

Chapter warnings: some brief angst, this ones pretty mellow ngl

Words: 3.3k

A/n: i was not expecting such a good response from the first chapter but bruh you guys are amazing- anyway here's part two of my brain's misery

Part 2/?

The trip from Mandalore to the planet of Dantooine was long, and still ongoing. We all took turns, watching to see if we were any closer. After each jump from hyperspace, the transport would stop at a space refueling tank, before slowly going onward toward the destination. We must have been traveling several systems across the galaxy. We had a few laughs, mainly while watching Gander try and steal Shyloh's food from his knapsack while he was sleeping. Most of the other time we all just sat in silence, up until this point.

"What do you think we're all going to do once we get to the rebel base?" Merc raised his voice slightly, barely capturing our attentions as we had all been dozing off, and Shyloh was taking watch at the view point.

"What do you mean?" I had asked, not quite sure of what he was getting at. I sat up straighter against the wall, showing my interest in the newfound conversation.

"What branch do you think you'll end up in?" He was in a daze as he spoke, almost unsure of his intentions of bringing it up. His dark eyes were nearly emotionless under his furrowed brow.

"I hadn't really thought about it. I would say maybe something like mechanics," I said, thinking of the best possible use of my talents. I'm sure there's plenty of mechanical help already assisting the rebels, but with the galactic empire growing it's forces by the day, they needed all the help they could get.

"What about flying?" Shyloh perked up from his seat at the window.

"What about it?" I asked, curious as to why he suddenly thought of the new topic.

"You could do it of you wanted to. Be a pilot, I mean. You have the skills," He told me, but I scoffed. He wasn't in any way shape or form was making an ounce of sense at all.

"Speeder control races are a bit different from piloting fighters against the imperial troops don't you think?" I laughed at the idea, but he rolled his eyes, persistent with his opinion.

"It's less different than you think it is. Also mind you, I never saw you lose a race," He objected, but I wasn't having any of it.

"That's because when I raced, my own credits were on the line," I joked, seeing what he would try and come up with next, only to be met with a cold hard stare, before an answer that would shake me to my core.

"Well, now the freedom of the galaxy is on the line."

My smile dropped from my face and I turned to face the other two, who were looking back at me. They didn't expect that answer either. Shyloh was well known to be a boy of few words, and only really spoke to his friends and family. He was a founding just like the rest of them, but he had been with ths clan longer, due to having been saved from a war infested home as a baby.

He could sometimes be very wise, even if he didn't think he was being so. We weren't sure what it was, but he had this sort of presense that was so powerful. We knew when he would walk in a room, or walk out of it. It's like the air would change. Much like it changed now, with his words rendering us all speechless.

The silence was uncomfortable, and I was the one who left it unresloved, so I spoke up in favor of my crewmates to not keep quiet any longer.

"Perhaps I shall see where I am needed first."

"Perhaps you shouldn't be so afraid to explore an option you would excel in," He again rendered me speechless, and I did not have anything else to say this time. I was young, but my mind was not. I could comprehend thoughts the same way that an adult could. I could handle things just as well and if not better than some, too. He was right. I was simply afraid.

"I think we're finally here," Shyloh said, turning back to look out of the view port again.

"Its about time," Gander stood up, slinging his knapsack over his shoulder and standing at the transport door waiting for it to slide up.

We all followed suit, but Shyloh stopped us and held up a warning finger to stay still.

"There's manding droids, we gotta sneak off carefully. They don't look like bulk but they could be armed," He suggested. We were not yet at the rebel base, meaning these were probably droids of the land, and belonged to whoever oversees the exports on this planet.

When the panel opened, we were all careful to first peek out of the transport. This planet was nothing at all like Mandalore, which was dry and hot. This planet was lush with plants. And the air was slightly humid. It was a very welcome contrast from where I spent most of my life.

We all sneakily bolted out of the transport, ducking down behind one of the cargo units placed outside. We saw an opening in what looked like some sort of forrest patch.

There was a chill in the air on this planet, even in the middle of the day. Mandalore only ever got colder at night, when the sun was down and the moons were shining.

"That was close." Merc mumbled as we began to turn around and head into the grasslands, trying to find the rebel base.

We made sure no one was behind us, and were careful to check if any droids had caught sight of us.

We all went to turn around, but as soon as I did, I collided with someone's chest, rather hard might I add, sending me to the ground on my bottom. I didn't even collide that hard with the person, it was just the shock that sent me backwards.

"Need a hand?" I looked up to see a man, a sly smirk on his face as he held his hand out towards me. I took it without question, heaving myself up from the grassy, and somewhat muddy ground beneath me.

"You must be our contact," Merc smiled, and the man nodded, turning and begining to lead us to a speader that was hovering nearby behind a large set of trees.

"We must be careful not to use names outside of the base. I would be more than happy to formally introduce myself once we reach our final destination," He chuckled. It was only now that I realized he had an accent, a thick one. Probably left over from his native tongue that spilled out his mouth when he spoke galactic basic.

I know that sometimes my accent slips in when i speak. I never had to worry about using Mando'a around my fellow crewmates. They were foundlings, and hadn't been raised to speak it. Shyloh was, but he prefered to use galactic basic anyways because he had forgotten so much of it.

We all boarded the speader, Gander and I sitting on the back, our legs hanging off as we held onto the side bars.

"This might be a bumpy ride for you two," The man said, looking at both of us before giving me a wink. I scrunched my face up, not sure how else to react to it. The man was definitely on the younger side, but I wasn't sure how he could possibly see an interest in me.

Maybe he did and I just didn't want him to. Maybe I was still hinged to the idea that I would go back to Mandalore someday and marry my betrothed. I was so young, and hadn't the slightest idea of what feelings I could possibly be harboring, if any at all.

I couldn't deny I found him appealing. Anyone would, at least any human with eyes that is.

His hair was dark, and so were his eyes. He had a bit of stubble along his jaw and above his lip. He was somewhat scruffy looking, but in a good way.

As the speeder went through the forresty stretch of pathway, I kept turning around to catch a glimpse of him. Each time I did I had to look away fast because Gander would give me weird stares.

I would play it off like I was simply taking in the view of the green planet around me, and he wouldn't seem to notice.

After a while, with quite a few twists and turns, and Gander and I nearly falling off the speeder twice, we arrived to our destination.

We all hopped out of the transport, following the man into a giant cargo port. As soon as I looked to my left I could see an X-wing fighter in all it's glory. I had never seen a real one before, just heard stories and viewed holograms.

"Alright. We have about twelve other recruits arriving on this base today, so you will all be attending orientation this evening. As for right now, you look beat, and should rest. PX-74 will assign you to your bunks," He said, gesturing to the droid before beginning to walk away with a nod, but I stopped him before he could take a step.

"Wait a minute... I believe I recall something about a formal introduction," I crossed my arms over my chest and shifted my weight, trying to give off the look of having as much confidence as I could muster. I was putting on a facade, possibly to make me seem more mature. I didn't know the real reason.

He smirked, raising an eyebrow as he scanned me up and down with his dark eyes.

"Cassian Andor," He smiled, then looking right back at me with questioning eyes. "And how about you... you got a name?"

"Y/n from clan Maldrix," I said, my confidence wavering a little when he looked at me the way that he did.

"She's a Mandalorian," Shyloh perked up, and I sent him a warning glare.

"Yeah, sixth generation," Merc added, his cocky smile pasted on his face for all to see and be annoyed by.

"A mandalorian? I've heard the stories but I haven't ever met one. Are you-?"

"I'm not," I cut him off before this got twisted into one big lie. "My mother and father are."

"Doesn't that make you one too?" Cassian furrowed his brow but his tone was somewhat joking and humorous.

"No, it does not," I wasn't harsh with the way my voice came out, but I was firm. Though I wasn't one of them, the mandalorians and all they stood for were very important to me.

"Mandalorian is not a race, it's a creed. Some of the best Mandalorians I ever had the pleasure of knowing didn't even have a bloodline from Mandalore. They were foundlings, like these three," I explained, laying out the facts so that there was no longer any confusion lingering, but now there was a tension that was thicker than the trees on this planet.

"Even still, she can fight just as good as any soldier taken the creed," Merc jumped in, trying to clear the air, and thankfully, it seemed to be working.

"She flies even better," Shyloh mentioned, and I swore I could kill him. He was just so pushy sometimes, even with his massive sense of wisdom.

"You fly?" This peaked Andor's interest, and immediately he seemed more engaged towards me.

"I'm not as good as they say I am," I admitted, but he shook his head.

"No, really... if you can fly we could really use you. We're putting together a team for an air raid that's set to happen about one month's time from now," He came up closer to me and stared me in the eye.

"I'm just a kid, I might really let you down," I joked, trying not to get too caught up in his eye contact. His eyes were much darker when you could see them closely.

"I tell you what, I can arrange for you to have time in the flight simulator after orientation. If we feel you would be an asset, we can add you to the strike team," He said, nodding along to his words. I understood that they might need backup, and if push came to shove, I could maneuver faster than any pilot back on Mandalore. I never lost a race, nor did I ever lose a bet.

"Okay."

I could tell I was blushing from the extra attention I was receiving. I wasn't so sure what about me was so enticing that I deserved it.

"I have to go now to pick up the other recruits from a drop station. I leave you in the capable hands of PX-74," He said, returning to his speeder and letting us be lead off into the base.

"There are only so many open bunks left. Two of you will share one, and the other two will be placed with bunk mates." The metalized voice of the PX unit was strong in our ears, and we all followed after him as we ventured into the long hallway at the end of the cargo port.

The droid stopped at a door about midway through the hall and opened it using the side panel on the wall, revealing a young man that seemed almost younger than me even.

"One of you will be staying here. Which will it be?" The droid asked, turning towards our small group.

"I'll take this one," Shyloh said, stepping forward into the bunk to meet his new roomate.

The boy looked a bit frightened at first, but because of Shyloh's powerful yet calming energy, he seemed to relax almost immediately.

He turned and smiled back at us, waving before the IG unit closed the door and kept us going.

He walked us down passed several more doors, maybe more than twenty, before he stopped at another one and opened it up.

Inside sat a young woman, her legs crossed as she sharpened a knife with a smirk on her face. She looked up and made eye contact with me first.

"I wondered how long it would be before they got someone else in here." Her voice was somewhat low and raspy, but it was kind of soothing in a way.

"One of you-" the IG unit began again, but I stopped him, stepping into the bunk with the girl inside.

"I'll take this one." I smiled at the two boys left before the door closed on my new bunk.

I moved to set my knapsack down on the bottom bunk, but my roomate stopped me.

"Bottom one's mine." She said, looking up from her sharpened knife again to inform me of the sleeping arrangements.

I instead threw my knapsack on the top bunk, trying to climb up into it, but failing miserably.

"You need a hand?" She chuckled, watching my lame attempts to swing my leg up high enough. The fact that there was no ladder should have tipped me off.

"I'll be okay, thanks," I laughed, keeping my attitude loose and positive, though this bunk bed was already causing unnecessary problems for me.

"If you say so," She chuckled again, seeing as I finally managed to haul myself up and onto the bed.

"First try," I joked, and she laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world. I think that we would be getting along, because no one ever laughed at my lame sense of humor.

I laid back, resting my arms behind my head and staring blankly at the ceiling.

"So, where are you from?" She piped up, not taking her eyes away from her previous knife. That thing must mean a lot to her.

"Mandalore," I let out, trying to get comfortable on this lumpy pad that was under my head.

"Actually?" She seemed surprised. Everyone had heard of the planet that the mandalorian tribes had resided upon, and usually they understood what kind of people the place would breed.

"Yeah. Left just in time. Tomorrow's my birthday," I shut my eyes continuing our converastion with one less sense. It didn't matter, though. I was still fully awake.

"What would you have had to do?" She pondered curiously, finally looking up towards the bunk in interest.

"Well, to put it short... tomorrow I would have had to swear my freedom away. No living being would ever be able to see my face again till the day I died," I laid it out plain and simple, and she seemed to understand.

"How old are you?" She asked, her trail of questions getting longer and longer.

"Sixteen tomorrow," I answered, feeling a bit more tired now that my eyes had been closed, and the lights in the bunk rooms were dim.

"You're just a baby," She scoffed. "How could they possibly expect you to make that choice so young?"

"It's just the way it's always been there. This is the way," I remembered. Those words used to be said to me nearly ten times a day, and now they only rung in my mind as a memory.

"That's insane. The people on your planet must be crazy to take an oath like that," She muttered.

"You would think so... the strangest part about it is that there are kids brought back as foundlings that take the creed without hesitation. They don't even belong to a bloodline, they just feel as though they have right to the creed as much as anyone else," I silently remembered Din for a moment. He was the bravest, strongest, most loyal Mandalorian I'd ever known. A foundling.

I began to get bitter at the thought of leaving him. He could have made things better for me if I had just given him a chance. I had to let my head get in the way. I needed to think about something else.

"What about you, huh? Where you from?" I asked, changing the subject as quickly and painlessly as possible.

"Alderaan. Born and raised," She said, getting up from the floor and dropping herself on the bottom bunk.

"You been a lot of places since then?" I asked, but she first let out a heavy sigh before speaking.

"Only too many to count," She said, settling herself on the bunk like I had done.

"Must be nice..." I muttered. Finally able to relax on this pathetic excuse for a bed pad. Of course I couldn't complain. I'm the one who chose the life of the rebellion, including their miserable bedding. "I've never been anywhere outside my home planet until now. I haven't even seen the entirety of my own planet."

"Most new comers are the same. They haven't been anywhere else, then they come here and its like we're moving non stop. Base to base, on just about every planet in this galaxy," She reassured. At least now I didn't feel so out of place.

"How long have you been stationed here?" I asked, unsure of how long I would get to adjust to things.

"A few months. It's likely we'll have to leave soon. There's rumors of the imperials knowing our location," She answered, rolling her eyes, thought I couldn't see from the top bunk.

"You're kidding," I scoffed. After just getting here, I might have to up and leave again. I'll have to learn to accept this new life, it's what I wanted.

"I wish I was, kid," She added.

"I have a name," I retorted back, not a fan of the nickname 'kid'. I waited for her to ask me what it was, but when she stayed silent I sighed. "It's Y/n."

"I'll call you what you are... now get some rest, they'll come pounding on that door in a few hours for orientation," She said, as though she somehow had grown to a habit of mothering me only five minutes after we met. I dropped the conversation and drifted off to sleep, my eyes were too heavy to keep open anymore anyway.

.

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Tags open

A/n: okay so like i wrote this a while before everything with gina carano happened and i do not in any way condone her whatsoever so let's pretend she's been recast already...

[logicalbookthief]

The thing with Nana in this chapter is that it falls into the same pattern the Todorokis did in the last one. Obviously, we know Shigaraki and Dabi will be saved by Deku and Shouto. It is the only satisfying conclusion to the story. Knowing this, it makes sense they struggle both externally and internally along the way, because a story without struggle wouldn’t be very interesting.

Externally, this struggle takes the form of the fights, the battles, the hero vs villains routine. Internally, this struggle should take the form of society vs the individual, heroism vs personal connections. And I think that’s why these last two chapters feel so dissonant. 

Both Nana and Endeavor dedicated their lives to being a hero over their own families. Even if the situations were wildly different and Nana had selfless motivations while Endeavor had abhorrent selfish ones, the results were the same. 

And since hero society as it is now is incredibly flawed, it doesn’t find anything wrong with the decision they made! That’s why Best Jeanist and Hawks rally behind Endeavor in spite of Dabi’s broadcast, why Gran Torino yells at Shigaraki for disgracing the memory of a woman he doesn’t even know. There’s this prevalent idea that because they were heroes whose actions benefitted society, this outweighs any action in their personal lives that negatively affected those closest to them.

Except that isn’t true and that’s the whole point!! The wounds of the Shimura and Todorokis families are still open and festering; and the more this pain is swept under the rug rather than addressed by society, the more Shigaraki and Dabi become intent on changing it, even at the cost of destroying it all. And they have no reason to value a society who venerated the heroes while ignoring their victims, rather than holding them accountable for the pain they caused.

The point is that you can’t protect society if you can’t protect your family, because they are part of that society, too. Just like you can’t be a hero if you’re willing to discard the individuals who are difficult to save, challenge those who don’t fit the “good” victim role, lock away those who are born dangerous or unlucky, etc. To quote Dragon from One Piece, because I love that manga and this quote so freaking much, “There can be no happiness in a world where the undesirables are thrown away.”

All of this to say that Deku and Shouto are faced with the same decision as their predecessors. For Deku and Nana, and even All Might, this is more a question of self-sacrifice: what are you willing to give in exchange for the world? Your life? Your relationship with your family? Your moral integrity? Of course the answer is you don’t self-sacrifice at all — the point of living in a society is to help each other, rely on other people, so that nobody is scapegoated and nobody becomes a symbol who must balance the needs of the world on their shoulders alone, while ignoring their own needs as a human being.

For Shouto and Endeavor, this is a question of what’s more important, your obligation as a hero or your obligation to your family? Are you willing to destroy your son/brother to prevent further harm to others? Of course there’s no way to achieve this, because in the process of destroying him, you hurt yourselves, your family, and the son/brother who was lashing out against being hurt in the first place. So you end up failing both your family and society.

We have the set-up for this internal struggle and we know what its conclusion should be. What isn’t making sense right now is that the struggle... Isn’t happening? Because the Todorokis and Nana have seemingly aligned with hero society’s view, which is that the villains must be stopped at any cost, without any consideration to their rights and needs as individuals who were deeply wronged.

And I know we may be jumping the gun, maybe Nana’s words are “just a test” to see what Deku will say, or we don’t have the full context yet, but... That doesn’t change the fact that it was written so Nana asks Deku whether he would be willing to kill her own grandson.

What irks me is that literally any of the other OFA users could’ve said this line and it would’ve worked. To have Nana say it indicates this may be the direction she’s trying to guide Deku towards.

Yes, she understands as a hero that AFO (and by extension the successor he’s groomed and manipulated) needs to be stopped. But she also should realize by now that her efforts to try to protect her family and the world ultimately failed. AFO targeted Tenko because he was related to Nana and he succeeded. All the pain she caused her son, all the hate Kotaro held for her and redirected onto himself and his children, all of it was for nothing. Society is still at risk, now more so than ever, and she doesn’t even have the consolation that her family is safe.

Based on her own experiences as a character, and her personal connection to Shigaraki, she’s poised to be someone advocating for Deku to save her grandson, and yet?

It makes even less sense for the Todorokis to align with hero society, because in Endeavor’s own words, they “don’t belong to the world” of heroes. They are intimately and singularly familiar with the pain he caused as a father and husband, not the good he did as hero, if you exclude his televised fight with the High-End nomu. Being as familiar with Endeavor’s abuse as they are and how much Touya suffered, they should be advocating the loudest to save him, and yet?

Clearly, we’ll have to see where this all goes, but it just seems like an... Odd narrative choice, to say the least. Instead of struggling, the protagonists are being told the same things by people whose views should be opposed, so when it inevitably doesn’t work out they’ll simply turn to the other side, rather then being torn between these two viewpoints and then forced to reconcile them.

And it is kind of frustrating that 300 chapters in and well after the My Villain Academia arc we still don’t have any characters who aren’t villains advocating for the villains. Not even their own families.

[captainrexforever]

Solace

Rating: T

Word count: ~4.5k

Summary: After a nightmare, the reader and Din have a heart-to-heart, and realize they are not as different as they might think. 

Warnings: angst, fluff, Din w/o beskar, intense fear?? (basically reader has a nightmare) makeout at the end

Note: Fair warning, this is the first fic I have ever written. I was having some pretty intense inspiration, and once I began typing, the words just began to flow out. With that said, I welcome any constructive criticism; any hate received will be reported and blocked.

It's not late when you slip beneath the blanket that decorates your humble cot. In fact, you're not sure what time it is. Days spent in hyperspace have left you without the ability to recall which hours differentiate day and night. At this point, you sleep once you're exhausted, and wake up once you hear the kid begin to squeal for your company.

Mando doesn't seem to sleep at all. You often wonder if he is even human beneath the beskar. Perhaps, he is some humanoid species that doesn't require sleep.

That's silly, your mind whispers.

Oh, that's right.

Once Mando had returned with a bounty, blood dripping onto the durasteel panels of the hull, and a jagged tear in the visible duraweave below his left pauldron. Red blood and tanned fleshed were exposed to your eyes for the space of a minute. He had steered the oblivious bounty towards the carbonite freezing unit, and with a shove and a hiss of the machinery, the zabrak had been encased in a carbonite slab.

You hadn't moved, rooted to the spot, until Mando brushed past you, a jerk of his helmet the only recognition you received. He headed straight towards the ladder to the cockpit, his hand already moving to the cauterizer on his belt. It wasn't your job to distract him with unnecessary questions, so you had rolled your shoulders, cracked your neck, and then walked towards the kid who bobbed silently in his cradle.

It's been months since that particular incident. Months since you were tortured with the sight of his skin. It was only a sliver of his bare skin, but it had set your heart racing. These days, you two spoke more often, usually about the kid. Well to clarify, 'more often' meant a few sentences a day. The Mandalorian was still so quiet. It was strange to you. As a child, your household was always bustling with life, loud and busy. To be honest, you were the most introverted member of your family, and found yourself seeking out peace and quiet more often than not. Now though, it was too quiet, days on end spent spiraling through space. Mando never told you your destination, not that it would have mattered anyways. You weren't very knowledgeable about the geography of the outer rim.

As you lie on your cot, you wonder if you will ever earn the chance to know who he really is. You know that he hides his emotions beneath a stoic personality almost as impenetrable as the beskar he wears. There’s a thought that festers in your heart every night as you lay in bed. Does the Mandalorian have any feelings for you beyond that of an employer and their employee? 

You sigh.

You are being foolish and immature.

The Mandalorian is a good man, and he owes you nothing. He pays you fairly and treats you as an equal. Your mind is satisfied with that answer, but your heart protests the idea, holding out hope that he might think of you in the same way that you think of him. That is, with a fondness that you shouldn't be allowed to feel. Sometimes, you sit in the cockpit just to watch him fly. He seems more at ease there, as if he too belongs among the stars. It's a breathtaking view, watching streaks of light blur past the viewport, but somehow your gaze always falls upon him instead.

Sleep now, think later, you tell yourself.

And you do, sleep finally consuming you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There is a flash of light, a blinding presence beside you. It's a struggle to grasp a sense of your surroundings, your mind struggling to stay aware. Something is not right. You move to sit up, panic overtaking you when your limbs fail to comply, as if they are weighed down with lead.

Then you hear it.

The clink of beskar on beskar.

It's alright, he's here, he is going to protect you.  But you couldn't be more wrong. The being that steps out of the blinding light and into the dimly lit area surrounding your cot is terrifying. It certainly looks like Mando, the armor is the same, but his helmet is wrong. It's all wrong! Two eyes of pure crimson shine through the visor of the helmet, a sickening laugh escaping the figure, and then it's advancing on your prone form. You realize with a start how exposed you are, only a long tunic covers your form, and your blaster is hanging on the wall behind the figure. It reaches out, it's touch burning your skin, first your cheek then down your neck. It speaks suddenly, the voice twisted and warped.

"What a pretty prize. All mine, and so submissive, not that you could run from me anyways." Then there is a blaster pressed underneath your chin.

"No, stop! Leave me alone!"

It only chuckles darkly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Mandalorian sighs deeply in the cockpit. You had disappeared behind the curtain that separated your cot from the main hold some time ago, the child already asleep. How you are able to coax him into slumber so easily Din will never comprehend. At least the quiet allows him some private time to clear his troubled mind. There was too much on his mind as of late. No, that was a lie. There was just one thing on his mind.

You.

You are a mystery, so caring and understanding. Too caring, he muses quietly. You are smart too, incredibly so, he was lucky to be able to recruit you into his service. But that's not what bothers him right now.

No…

Something else is troubling him. He is sure you possess some sort of magic, like the kid. It’s the only explanation. Why else does his heartbeat thud loudly in his chest at the sight of you? His skin feels as if it’s on fire, his mouth suddenly dry whenever your gaze lingers on him for a moment too long. Sorcery, as the armorer had said. But, he doesn't know how to confront you about the topic. He doesn't want to frighten you away. 

He will approach you in the morning, he tells himself. Din chuckles for a moment, he doesn't really know when morning will come, with the length of time you three have spent in hyperspace. He just bases his schedule off of the inclinations of his female companion. When you sleep, so does he, when you are awake, so is he. Din always ensures he is awake before you. The child is fussy in the mornings, demanding attention as soon as he is awake, so he tries to keep the kid entertained as long as possible to you allow you a few extra scraps of sleep.

The hair on the back of his neck suddenly stands on end, a sense of unease consuming his thoughts. He taps his helmet, the infrared vision within his helmet prompting the grey ship to burst into color. Nothing seems out of place in the cockpit, but he can't ignore his instincts, so after rising from his chair Din moves towards the ladder, intending to check the rest of the ship from possible threats. He pauses at the top of the ladder, his whole body shocked into a rigid cast.

Your cries reach his ears, desperate and pleading, and every instinct screams at him to protect you. In retrospect, he’s not sure how he clears the ladder so quickly, because one second he’s standing in the cockpit, and in the next he’s at your side, hands hovering over you as uncertainty soars to the top of his mind. You are obviously in the throws of a nightmare, your body curling in on itself, sweat beading on your forehead, and your limbs thrashing about in an attempt at self-preservation. Din reaches out to grasp your wrist, but you tear it out of his hand, your cries becoming louder. He curses, both hands reaching out to pin yours to the cot, then he is settling his body over yours, using his weight to still your frantic movements.

"No, stop! Leave me alone! Stop! Please!" It's the first coherent thing you have said, and it squeezes at his heart. It feels like it is being crushed by the vice that he often saw the armorer use at the forge. 

"Y/N!"

"No, please!"

"Y/N! Listen to me, you need to wake up."

"Stop, Stop!"

"Y/N!"

Your eyes finally snap open, and it's as if all the air has been pumped back into his lungs. You're alright, you're safe.

Oh, how wrong he was.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You gasp for air, feeling as though you're drowning. 

It was just a dream. 

But then your eyes open, only to come face-to-face with a beskar helmet. A startled cry escapes you and you're squeezing your eyes shut, turning your face into the pillow behind you to block your line of sight. The air is tense and strained and you feel suffocated by the weight resting on the lower half of your body. As your panic rises you attempt to wriggle free, another rush of fear flooding your body when you realize you're pinned down. Your movements become frantic, a sense of desperation overtaking you as your hands fight against the hold on your wrists. You're practically sobbing as you fight him, your body recoiling in fear just from the sight of his armor. Through the haze of panic, you think he's saying something but you can’t bring yourself to care. Every molecule in your body is screaming to be free.

With a burst of strength you rip your arms from his grip and frantically shove at his chest plate. Sithspit, you can’t even bear to look at him. The shoving becomes more frantic and finally you're free. Your body curls in on itself, finding solace in the tattered blanket and pillow that furnish your cot. You don't realize your crying until your sobs register in your ears. You are thoroughly humiliated, wishing that the floor would swallow you whole so that you never have to face the consequences of this situation. 

You take a few heaving breaths, trying to gain your bearings, and when you hear a modulated voice you recoil further into your cot.

"Y/N, talk to me, are you alright?" You think he sounds concerned, but you can’t bring yourself to concentrate clearly enough to discern what emotions are placed on those words. 

"Please, leave me alone." You manage, trying to gather your frazzled emotions. 

"What happened?" You're cringing all over again at the sound of his voice, flashbacks from the nightmare plaguing your mind.

There's a hiss, then "I'm turning the lights off". Your head whips around. That wasn't Mando's voice. The hull is plunged into darkness before you even turn halfway, and you swallow nervously.

"It's ok, I'm right here."

"Mando?"

"Yes."

"You sound…different."

"I know, I'm not wearing my helmet." That knocks the breath right out of your lungs.

"Are you ok?" There is real concern there and it calms your erratic heartbeat.

"I…I think so."

"Nightmare?"

"….yes."

His footsteps echo in the durasteel hull as he moves towards you. You're sitting up now, and a hand reaches out to touch your arm. It startles you, your body recoiling on instinct. You can hear him sigh heavily.

"It was about me, wasn't it?" He sounds tired, weary, so unlike the Mandalorian you have come to know over the past several months. You can't lie to him. You have never been able to lie to him.

"Yes."

"Is there anything I can do?..."

You pause before you speak. A thought comes to mind immediately. It's too forward. You shouldn't ask, you can't.

"Will you stay with me?"

There is a sharp intake of breath, and you curse yourself. This is the longest conversation you have ever been able to hold with Mando, and now you've just embarrassed yourself with your lack of a brain-to-mouth filter.

"Ok."

That made sense, you dumb imbecile…Wait…What?!

You must have heard wrong, that was the only explanation.

"Just a moment."

Was there a problem with how fast your heart-rate just spiked? You must be having physical complications from the nightmare, or maybe you hit your head while you were struggling. A clang echoes through the hull, then another. You hold your breath for a second, then realize that he is probably removing his boots. Your cot is by no means spotless, but you appreciate the sentiment. He moves towards the cot again, and you slide over to make room for him. Unfortunately, you severely overestimate the amount of space on your cot, and approximately one millisecond later you are experiencing the weightless feeling of doom that always precedes an inevitable fall.

An arm curls around your waist at the last second, and you can't hold back your gasp of surprise. Mando hauls you back up onto the cot, and it's not until the entirety of your back comes into contact with the duraweave covering his warm chest that you realize he is not wearing a single scrap of beskar. Your breath exits your body in a shudder as you bask in the comforting warmth of his body.

It’s several minutes later when Mando finally breaks the silence. "Do you feel any better?" 

There is no way he is being serious. If he was blind and deaf, he still wouldn't be able to miss how you practically melted into his touch. Why, that little...The light chuckle against your ear confirms your suspicions, and if this was any other situation you would be fuming at the insinuation. But this is Mando, your Mando, some traitorous part of your mind whispers. Despite your les than pleasant mood, you find yourself enjoying this tiny glimpse into the playful side of his personality. 

"Much better, thank you Mando. You really don't have to stay if you don't want to." Why in farrik did you say that?!

"It's alright, I don't mind." Even if he is still teasing you, you don't care. You wouldn't give this up for all the credits on Coruscant.

"Y/n?"

"Yes, Mando."

He lets out a troubled sigh at your response, and you want to take back whatever you did, if only to hear him tease you one more time before he reverts back to his reserved, silent persona.

“I hope you feel...safe when you travel with me.”

“Of course I do.”

“You don’t have to lie to me.”

“I am telling the truth, really I am. I feel safer on this ship, with you, than I do anywhere else.”

"I…there is something I want to tell you."

"Alright."

"My name, my name isn't Mando." He chuckles a little, as if enjoying a private joke. "If it was, it would get a little bit confusing back at the covert." Then he takes a deep breath, as if to gather himself. You move your hand to rest over his arm, which is still draped across your waist, offering what little comfort you can. "My birth name is Din Djarin."

"Din." You test the word on your tongue, and you decide that it suits him well. Simple and straightforward, just like him. "I like it." He releases a hum in response and the way it rumbles through your back, tingles spreading to the top of your head and into your fingertips, has you feeling a pleasant buzz. 

You dare to roll over in his arms, nuzzling further into his chest, and your heart swells when he accommodates your change in position by moving one hand to the small of your back, the other cradling your head gently. This moment is so precious, so delicate, and you refrain from speaking or moving, in the hopes of prolonging it for as long as possible.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You must have fallen asleep, because when you wake up there is a shrill beeping coming from the cockpit. With a groan you nuzzle further into your pillow, the arm that’s slung over the pillow flexes to draw it closer to your body. You idly wonder if Mando finally decided to activate the heating system since there is a pleasant warmth engulfing your body.

What's taking him so long? Normally, he spends most of his time in the cockpit, so it seems odd that he hasn't yet attended to the issue.

"Are you gonna get that or am I?" The question is spoken by your ear.

You swear you have never been more awake in your entire life. You shoot straight up but you don’t get very far, a warm hand on your back coaxing you back down against an equally warm body. 

"Did you sleep well?"

Osik. Now you remember. The nightmare, Mando holding you gently while you lay on your cot in shock. Oh, wait. You mean Din.

Your eyes finally open and you realize that the artificial lighting is still shut off. That's right, Din isn't wearing his helmet either. As you catalog your surroundings, a blush rises to your cheeks. During the night, you seem to have become very…cuddly. Your head is resting on his very firm chest, an arm slung across his upper body with your hand on his shoulder. One of your legs is thrown over his waist, and your face burns when you register his hand resting innocently on your thigh. It wouldn't be so bad if you were actually wearing pants, but your lazy ass had crawled into bed last night with only a threadbare tunic to cover your form. Suddenly you are even more thankful for the darkness shrouding your figures, all too aware that the tunic had ridden up over your ass during the night. Din's other hand is still nestled around the back of your head, his fingers occasionally massaging at the base of your scalp since your hair is tied up into a haphazard bun. 

You have yet to answer him, and your brain sputters as it attempts to think up a witty response.

"Yes, still a little tired though." What kind of answer was that, Y/N? Wow, such a charmer. What you really wanted to say was better than ever.

"That’s to be expected." Kriff, you are hearing his morning voice. You think you might just die on the spot. Hey, at least you'll be ending on a high note.

The beeping still echoes loudly through the hull. "You should get that before the kid wakes up." You nudge softly. He just grunts.

"You can get it, I'm sure it's nothing pressing." He finally responds.

"Hey, this is your ship, you get it." You've always been grumpy in the morning, never an early riser. You shove at him gently to enforce your request but it doesn't even phase him. "Din, come on." Then you're shoving a little harder, feeling victorious when you feel his body move across the cot slightly. You remove the leg from across his waist, using both your feet to assist in shoving him off of the cot. He just chuckles at your efforts, seemingly amused with your irritation. All of a sudden, there is a loud thud and a groan followed by utter silence. Your heart jumps into your throat, you didn't mean to hurt him! You shimmy to the edge of the cot, looking over even though you can't see a thing, hoping that he's not injured from the fall. Stupid, stupid, stupid, you chastise yourself. And then your worry turns to anger when you hear a hearty laugh bubbling up from the floor. How dare he laugh at you.

In any other situation you would be overjoyed at the sound of his laughter, but for some reason you feel incredibly cross this morning. You huff at his mirth, swing your legs over the edge of the cot and stand, intending to investigate the problem in the cockpit yourself. However, the moment you are on your feet you are suddenly plowed into by a warm, firm chest. Din muffles a curse as he catches you, tugging you upright before you slam into the unforgiving durasteel floor. 

"What are you doing?" You demand, feeling like a fool. Your emotions are still frazzled after the restless night, and you know you're being unreasonably cross but you can't help yourself.

"Just checking on the cockpit, verd'ika."

The word is unfamiliar, but before you can question the meaning he's moving past you towards the ladder. Now that he's gone, you hang your head, ashamed of your behavior. He was being far too kind to receive such harsh treatment from you. He did laugh at me though. Without his presence, you feel a little silly standing in the hull by yourself, so you decide to crawl back into your cot. You turn, fumbling a little in the dark, and hold a hand out to feel your way around. The tip of your fingertips finally brush the cot, and you surge forward, eager to slide underneath your blanket.

Your foot ricochets off something round and extremely solid, and in the next second you’re hopping around on one foot as curses spill from your lips. Stupid helmet, damned Mandalorian, kriffing alarm, frikking nightmares. If this isn't a cursed day you didn't know what to say. You finally set your foot back down and feel around for the position of the helmet as cautiously as you can with your injured foot. Then you give it a solid kick with your, as of yet, uninjured foot. The clang that echoes through the hull is extremely satisfying, and there's a smug smirk tugging at the corners of your lips.

"Are you done abusing my helmet?"

You let out a surprised yelp when he catches you by surprise, but you can't even bring yourself to feel ashamed.

"Just checking to make sure it was still up to snuff. I don't want you to sustain an injury to your head while collecting a bounty."

"Somehow I find that hard to believe."

"Well, I can’t imagine why."

There is a long pause, and you are worried you’ve made him uncomfortable with your banter.

"Do you want to talk about last night?"

As a matter of fact, you do not want to talk about last night. You never want to talk about last night. You just hope that the memory of the nightmare will fade away as soon as you throw yourself into your work.

"I know it can be difficult to share a painful experience. If you ever need to talk about it, I'm here."

"Maybe later?"

"Of course. Now if you don't mind, I am going to need my helmet back."

"Oh, right." You blush as you bend down to retrieve it from the durasteel floor. "Here you go." You try not to hyper-fixate on the brush of skin against skin that accompanies the action of handing over his helmet.

"I am going to turn the lights on now if that's ok."

"That's fine."

You blink your eyes a little when he activates the lights. The first thing you realize is that you are much closer than you expected. In fact you have to crane your neck to meet the visor of his helmet. All of a sudden your throat is dry and you are all too aware of your state of undress. Then you notice that his duraweave suit is extremely form-fitting. Now, when you say form-fitting, you mean he is probably wearing the same suit he wore as a teenager. Every curve of his body, every muscle, is visible to your eyes. You suck in a breath. If you let your gaze wander down just a little. Kriffing hell, you need to get your heart rate checked. Does he know that you are looking at him? He must. Wait...does he like it? You sidle a little closer, and your ego soars when you hear his breath hitch through the modulator. Another step and you're separated by a millimeter of air. You crane your neck back further, gazing into the visor.

"You think you could turn the lights off again, just for a second?"

He doesn't respond verbally, but his hand moves to the side of his helmet and you're surrounded by darkness once again.

You stretch out a hand, breath catching when your fingertips graze the duraweave over his chest. Not wanting to alarm him, you press down gently at first, then his hand is settling over yours, urging you to open your palm and splay your fingers across his chest. You dare to repeat the action with your other hand, basking in the feel of his warmth beneath your palms. Then you’re sliding them up, higher, higher, until they curve around the slopes of his shoulders. You breathe once, twice. You swear you can feel his pulse thrumming beneath your fingers.

"Din." His name escapes your lips like a sigh.

Both his hands move to cover yours, guiding them the rest of the way up, until they settle on the sides of his helmet. He's shaking, you note. His hands are trembling as they cover yours. Then you realize that you are shaking too.

"Is it ok if I….Can I….I don't want to…" You exhale shakily. "Can I lift it just a little?" Your heartbeat is roaring loudly in your ears, you're not sure you'll be able to hear him, even if he does respond.

"Please." He whispers.

You are not sure who moves first, but you will never forget how gentle he is in the moment. His thumbs caress the back of your knuckles, the action so tender, so unlike the hunter he claims to be. There is a pause as he bends down to accommodate your shorter height, his hands guiding yours as he tilts the helmet upwards until his breath is fanning across your lips. It’s absolutely sinful how soft his lips are, how gently he kisses you. The kiss itself is a little clumsy, the lack of experience apparent in both of your actions. But after a few seconds you develop a rhythm. 

His hands abandon yours to curl around your waist and neck, and you learn that if you tilt your head just a little, your lips will slot into place like two pieces of a puzzle. You only pull away once your legs begin burning, taxed from standing on your toes the whole time. But Din is having none of that, he bends down further, your back bowing slightly at the change of position, and then he’s kissing you so thoroughly that you’re certain you might pass out. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eventually, you two separate, the cries of the child finally demanding your attention. Din pulls away first, planting a kiss on your forehead before he lets the helmet fall back into place over his lips. The lights are switched back on, and after a longing glance you both move to resume your duties as usual. 

When Din turns to collect his armor from the floor, you stand next to your cot with the ploy of folding the blanket and retrieving your day clothes. You feel a little bit ashamed of your devious thought process until he bends over. His firm backside is completely exposed to your eyes, and you can't help but admire the curve of his-

"So am I allowed to stare at your ass too?"

"Din!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Verd’ika: little warrior