#DARN RIGHT ILL DRAW THE CHILDREN LIKE THIS

[introvert-celeste]

First Kiss

Raine recounts theirs and Eda's "unofficial" first kiss.

“So…what was your first kiss like?”

Eda spit her apple blood back into her mug mid-sip, bursting into laughter, while Raine choked on their breakfast in surprise. Luz leaned over her scrambled griffin eggs, fluttering her eyelashes innocently as King—ever her backup—rested his chin in his paws from his high chair, tiny claws clacking against the sides of his skull.

These kids sure knew how to pick their topics of conversation at half past the crack of dawn, Eda thought, grinning in spite of it. There were multiple allusions she could think of that would qualify as a good “first kiss” story, but there was one that stood out from the rest, one that immediately came to mind. From the way Raine sputtered over the kitchen table far longer than they should have, she knew they’d thought of it, too.

She patted their back comfortingly, taking pity on them, but not too much, because this was one story she didn’t want to pass up.

“I don’t think they heard you,” she replied cheekily.

Raine gave her a stricken look, a blush already creeping across their face. Eda almost felt bad for putting them on the spot like that, almost, if not for the fact that they looked so darn cute, and that it was one of the few memories from her teen years that she could truly look back on fondly.

“What was yours and Eda’s first kiss like?” Luz repeated animatedly, without missing a beat. “Was it romantic, or really awkward, or just…meh?”

“It was probably gross and weird,” King interjected, pulling a disgusted face. “Kissing is usually like that.”

“How would you know?”

“I have eyes, Luz! They do it all the time!”

Eda let out an ugly snort and threw her arm around Raine’s shoulders as they groaned into their hands, dying of embarrassment. She would’ve almost felt bad for putting them on the spot like that, if it weren’t for the fact that they looked so cute when they blushed. She pulled them in closer so they could hide their face against her shoulder she patted their head comfortingly, a little consolation as she continued to chuckle to herself.

“Are we talking officially or unofficially?” Eda finally answered for them.

This piqued the children’s interest. “’Officially’ was what I was going for…” Luz grinned, narrowing her eyes deviously at the two of them. “…but ‘unofficially’ sounds a lot more interesting.”

“Oh, it really isn’t all that interesting!” Raine protested, gaining back a little fortitude, bursting out of Eda’s grasp.

“Sure it is! C’mon, Raine.” Eda reeled them back in, drawing a finger down the length of their jaw, tilting her head down towards them. “It’s history, Rainestorm. Our history.”

They laughed nervously, their eyes flitting between her lips and her sultry gaze. She had them right where she wanted them. Now it’s time to go in for the kill, she thought, leaning in for a kiss, which they met all too eagerly halfway.

“W-well, when you put it like that…” Raine replied, flushed and grinning like a dork.

King gagged into his breakfast; even Luz couldn’t help but groan.

“So? What do you say?” Eda asked. “It is your story to tell, after all.”

Raine put up their hands in surrender. “Okay, okay,” they conceded good-naturedly, “you got me.” They snatched the mug from the table before Eda could stop them and took a long drink of the apple blood, grimaced at the distinct taste of backwash, and handed it back to her with an innocent smile.

“Alright,” they began. “It went like this…”

“I dare you 20 snails to kiss Edalyn.”

Raine looked up from their book to find Darius looming over their shoulder, his mildly bored expression lined with a hint of tension that told of ill-intent. His question seemed to echo in the quiet library, and Raine could hardly contain their mortification. Hoping they’d heard incorrectly, they decided to humor him.

“What?” They responded incredulously. “W-why on Titan would I do that?”

He shrugged indifferently. “Why not?”

“Um, because that’s weird?”

They looked about the library, knowing there must be some kind of unpleasant catch in this somewhere, besides utterly embarrassing themself for pocket change. Sure enough, the usual crew of entitled rich kids, with Odalia as their obnoxious ring leader, snickered together in a corner. They’d clearly set Darius up, judging by the way he glowered at them, but Raine hardly cared at that moment, knowing full well that it was all at their expense.

Darius looked to Alador for some kind of support amid the group, but he was clearly too busy avoiding confrontation all together to notice, face buried in a book, his hand firmly glued to Odalia’s under the table. She smirked across the room and made a shooing motion, urging him to continue.

“I—I mean we—just think that you could use the snails,” he said reluctantly, unable to meet their gaze.

Laughter erupted from the group, drawing the ire of the librarian, who promptly kicked them out. No matter, they’d gotten what they wanted.

Just like St. Epiderm, Raine thought dismally, instantly reminded of their time as the poor scholarship kid among spoiled, upper-class snobs. In the time they’d spent at Hexside, it became clear that some things simply never changed, and some friends were best kept at arm’s length. They snapped their book closed angrily and started gathering their things, intent to leave without gracing him with a response.

“Come on, Songbird, it was just a joke,” Darius said, grasping their elbow as they walked away. He grimaced, and muttered through his teeth, “they made me do it.”

Raine yanked their arm away, whipping around to face him. “Oh yeah? And how much did they pay you?!” They retorted. Despite being a whole head taller, Darius shrank away from their scathing glare.

They huffed, the fight draining out of them as soon as it appeared. “Whatever,” they said, leaving before the librarian could scold them, too.

It seemed the draw of public humiliation was infectious, and Raine was the unfortunate target for the day. Whispers followed them as their made their way across the cafeteria, bullies and complete strangers alike, bursting into laughter as they approached their usual spot. If it weren’t for Eda’s beckoning grin, they would have turned right around and taken their lunch somewhere no one would find them.

Eda leaned around them, giving the offending group a rude gesture before sitting back down.

“What was that about?” She asked.

They ducked their head. “Ugh, it’s so stupid,” they grumbled into their tray.

“Well, duh, of course they’d come up with something stupid,” she snorted, openly throwing her thumb back at the offending group. “Just tell me who to hex and I’ll do it. No hesitation.”

Raine chuckled, shyly meeting her fierce gaze. “I-it’s just…” They swallowed nervously, before blurting out, “It’s just that…Darius dared me 20 snails!”

Eda stared at them intently for a moment. “…for what?” She finally prompted.

“To kiss you,” they replied in a small voice, growing flustered. “That’s weird, right?! I mean, not you, but the kissing part. No! I mean kissing you…l-like that…” Raine buried their face in their hands. “Forget I said anything.”

“Aw, is that it?” Eda slapped them on the shoulder cordially. “Come on, Raine. Where’s your entrepreneurial spirit?"

They peaked at her between their fingers. "So, it’s not weird?” “They asked, coloring at the implication.

Eda rubbed the back of her neck, her own face growing a shade redder. “I mean, it would’ve been if you did it without telling me first, but hey, 20 snails is 20 snails!” She threw her arm around their shoulder. “Besides, now they’re laughing at you, and I won’t stand for that. You gotta let me defend your honor.” She leaned with them across the table. “What do you think, Lily? You in?”

Lilith, who’d been pointedly ignoring them, looked up from her studying to glare at them. “Keep me out of this. I’m not getting detention again.”

“They were asking for it!” Eda said, slamming her fist on the table. “No one messes with my sister and gets away with it!”

“Were the abominations really necessary?”

“Uh, yeah, how else was I supposed to get your lunch money back? Ask nicely?” She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Fat chance.”

“This plan doesn’t involve abominations, does it?” Raine asked tentatively, interrupting the sisters’ bickering.

Eda waved away their concern. “Nah, this ain’t a Lord Calamity-level problem,” she replied, grinning at them quizzically. “…unless?"

“No!” Raine and Lilith said in unison. They’d had enough experience with Eda’s even wilder alter-ego to know that using her would only invite more trouble.

“Alright, alright, I get it,” she laughed. “We’ll do this the boring way.” And before Raine could even ask what “the boring way” meant, she was quickly nudging them out of their seat.

“Wait, now?!” They hissed, bewildered.

She pretended not to hear them, only offering them a little glance over her shoulder, a wink, and a discreet finger gun that made their heart flutter. Raine immediately froze, suddenly finding themself the center of attention once again. They swallowed hard against the lump that had formed in their throat, very aware of all the eyes that were watching them.

Did they want to kiss her? Of course. In that regard, they assumed that this was blatantly obvious to everyone but her, hence why they found themself in their current predicament. They’d had a crush on her from the moment they first laid eyes on her, but they didn’t want this; they didn’t want their first kiss to be a joke, to be forced on them by people who were intent on teasing them about it forever. Their only consolation was the fact that Eda was in on it, and if anyone had a way to spin some good out of this unfortunate situation, it would be her.

Gathering up their resolve, they approached her from behind and tapped her tentatively on the shoulder. Chancing a peek towards the back of the room, they could see Darius cringing apologetically among the smug grins and back-handed laughter from the group around him. They tapped into the shallow reservoir of anger that his pity inspired—for having put them in this situation in the first place—and that anger gave them just the amount of strength they needed.

They cleared their throat. “H-hey, Eda,” they said, cursing the nervous squeak in their voice. “There’s s-something I need to do.”

Eda turned toward them with a face full of innocence, which told Raine that she was clearly up to some mischief. “And whatever could that be, Rainestorm?” She asked sweetly, only solidifying their assumption.

They were immediately caught off guard by the use of their nickname, the way she fluttered her lashes and preened her hair, so cute and so silly. It was so unlike her, and yet it felt completely natural. Raine calmed incrementally, holding back a laugh as her expression became more exaggerated. Then, before they could come up with a clever response, she leapt up from the table and wrapped her arms around them in a vice grip. Another second later, she was dragging her tongue up the length of their face, from chin to forehead, with deliberate precision.

“Blegh, Eda! Gross!” Raine cried, giggling all the same. Across the table, Lilith was desperately retreating from the scene, not wanting anything to do with her little sister’s nonsense.

They struggled and twisted against her, but she only tightened her grip on them. So, instead of fighting, Raine leaned closer, furtively trying to rub the spit on their face against Eda’s shoulder. They wrestled like this until they were both a giggling mess on the floor and most of the cafeteria had lost interest.

Darius marched up to them and slapped a handful of snails on the table. “I am literally paying you to stop,” he said, grimacing in disgust.

Raine and Eda exchanged a triumphant grin after he left, knowing that they’d won this round.

Raine met up with Eda after school, feeling much lighter now that that ordeal was over, but there was still one thing that ate at them as they made their way out the door. A tiny worm of guilt and shame still wriggled deep in their heart that they couldn’t quite shake, and there was still the matter of their feelings that were left unceremoniously unresolved. They wanted to talk to Eda about it. Soon.

But it didn’t seem like “soon” would be that day. Eda didn’t so much as mention the event in the cafeteria, as if it didn’t happen at all. Plus, decked out as she was in her grudgby gear, she was probably headed straight to practice, as she did most afternoons. Nothing whatsoever was out of the ordinary, save for the fact that she was uncharacteristically quiet.

Maybe I’m making a big deal out of nothing, Raine thought dismally. It wouldn’t have been the first time.

Odalia passed down the steps next to them, bumping shoulders with Eda and knocking the grudgby ball out of her hands. With lightning-fast reflexes, Eda caught the ball with her foot and bounced it back into her hands without missing a step.

“Hey!” Raine called angrily, but Eda held them back.

“Don’t worry, Raine.” She replied, loud enough for Odalia to hear. “She’s just jealous that you got my cooties and not her.”

She hardly spared her a passing glance. “Freak.”

“Yeah, since when did they start letting beasts into the school?” One of the girls in her posse laughed in passing.

It was too much for Raine to bear. After a second, they gripped Eda’s hand and pulled her aside, safe from nosy onlookers. She looked at the them curiously as they searched for the right words to say, to express just how twisted up and confused they felt.

“You didn’t have to do that, Eda,” they pointed out at last.

“She deserved it,” Eda scoffed. “Besides, we all know I’m the baddest witch in the school. It’s hard not to want all this.” She popped the collar of her jacket for emphasis.

Raine chuckled, blushing, before quickly turning sober again. “No, I mean…what you did earlier.”

“In the cafeteria? Pssh, that was nothing,” she replied with an air of nonchalance that didn’t quite meet her face. There had to be something troubling her, too. Raine could feel it.

“But now they’re making fun of you!” They insisted, the guilt taking on more substance in their heart. “And it’s my fault. I wish I never got you involved. None of this would’ve happened if—”

“Rainestorm, hey, it’s okay,” she said, more gently than they’d ever heard her speak before. “In case you haven’t noticed, they were already making fun of me and, like, half of our year. They suck and I don’t care what they think about me.” She offered her hand, which Raine gladly accepted. “But when it comes to the people I care about, I don’t mess around. Besides,” she chuckled. “20 snails? You could have asked me to kiss you for free and I would have done it.”

“What?”

“What?” Eda echoed, face flaring up in embarrassment. “Wait! I mean…I mean…”

They looked at each other in realization, suddenly feeling incredibly silly. Eda’s normally cool demeanor seemed to melt before their eyes, until she almost seemed shy.

“Well, this is awkward,” she quipped, smiling at them ruefully. “I guess what I mean to say is…I like you. A lot.” She squeezed their hand for emphasis. “And back in the cafeteria, I was just gonna let you do it, but it didn’t feel right and you looked so freaked out, so I figured it was better to make it something funny instead. That was okay, right?” A look of worry passed across her face. “I didn’t think at all before I did it and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

It took a moment for Raine’s words to catch up with their mind, so unprepared were they. “No, not at all!” They heaved a deep sigh of relief, previously unaware of how long they’d been holding their breath. “I like you, too. A lot.” They started to feel a little awkward. “Sorry, I’ve…never done this before. I don’t know what else to say.”

“Heh, me neither.”

“Edalyn, hurry up!” Lilith called from across the field, the impatient grudgby team in tow. “Practice is at 3, remember?”

Eda jolted, face going a deep crimson at the sound of her sister’s voice. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll catch up!” She called back frantically, urging her to go away.

Lilith balanced her fists on her hips sternly, shooting them a dark look. “As team captain, I must insist—”

“Ugh, fine! I’m going! Jeeze” Eda groaned dramatically, looking back at Raine apologetically. “Sisters, am I right? Later, okay?”

“Later,” They agreed, feeling happier than they had in a long time.

She began to charge off after the team as they began to get set up for practice. Just as Raine started to make their own home, however, they felt a strong, familiar hand reel them back in.

“I almost forgot!” Eda said, planting a soft kiss on their cheek before resuming her trek across the school yard. With one last look over her shoulder, she cried, “see ya tomorrow, Rainestorm!”

Raine brushed their fingers across the spot she’d kissed, feeling as if nothing else in the world mattered as much as that one split-second moment.

“Aw, that’s so adorable,” Luz sighed dreamily, once Raine had finished. “So, what about your ‘official’ first kiss?”

Eda and Raine considered the question for a second and laughed.

“Funny enough, that actually wasn’t very interesting,” Raine replied.

Eda nodded. “Yeah, wasn’t it behind the grudgby bleachers, like, a week later? So cliché.”

“I’ve certainly had better,” Raine agreed cheekily, nuzzling their face against her neck.

King threw his bowl on the ground, declaring, “I’ve officially lost my appetite,” before springing out of his high chair and vacating the room.

At Luz’s wilted look, Eda said, “sorry, kid, that’s enough backstorying for one day.”

[jreads]

Unexpected Constellations (Part 09)

Rating: M (18+, minors get gone)

Word Count: 10.3K

Warnings: (in an effort to not spoil) Canon-level violence, Mentions of blood, Mentions of death, Foul language, Sexual content, Emotionally $lutty Mando

A/N: Oh my days, finally. So actually, this scene was what inspired me to write the whole darn fic in the first place, so I really wanted to get it close to perfect (which is partially why it took so long). On top of that, I just finished my last exam of my undergraduate degree! I do not feel happy or relieved because I am insanely ill and need to get surgery before I can get a job! YAY! On a more positive note, i hope you enjoy this part and I hope my first attempt at smut is acceptable. If you reblog, I'm positive it will cure me. Comment on this post or the masterlist to get added to the taglist!

Night had fallen, and there was already blood on his gloves.

It was green, viscous, and slimy, and he wiped it carelessly on his leg before reaching for the hunter’s long-distance rifle. He wasn’t usually the type to rob a dead man, but he figured it might be of use on the rooftops. 

After all, it wasn’t like its old owner was going to need it any longer.

Rising to full height, he swung the cape back over his shoulder, where it rested between the back of his cuirass and the jetpack.

By some mercy, the picturesque town had managed to maintain a sense of quiet serenity, but countless bodies were already beginning to pile up in backstreets and darkened crevices. He had landed the Crest right on the eastern border, atop the cliffs, and flown the rest of the way in. Unfortunately, the thrusters had drawn quite a bit of attention, and he had only spent about a minute on the ground before he was being engaged. He could only hope that your luck had been better.

You had spoken to him one last time before you left your suite, simply to notify him of your movement and to ask again about his time of arrival. At that point, he had just entered Cantonica’s orbit. Despite the way your voice in his ear had sent pleasant electricity down his spine, he had told you not to contact him too frequently once you were in the casino. Messing with the earpiece or communicator could draw unnecessary attention. You had agreed. Since then, the connection had been silent. He fluctuated between thinking it was a good thing and worrying impulsively.

But as he had been taking blaster bolts in the beskar, the impact hissing and expelling smoke, his thoughts were entirely elsewhere. And they all had to do with you. He felt somewhat like a young boy in hyperspace for the first time.

Din reached the beginning of the path you had scouted for him earlier, a maze of scalable slates and moonlit chasms. The night vision on his visor picked up nothing out of the ordinary, but he knew it was unlikely that he would be so lucky. The casino’s domed peak was a looming presence in the distance, and he was instantly glad for the jetpack. He wouldn’t have wanted to climb it with cables. Still, his mind wandered, constantly drawn back to you. Like a magnet.

The Armourer had done a magnificent job on your gauntlets. The Mudhorn signet was proudly imprinted on the inside of each wrist, and some long-buried part of him smiled in satisfaction at the thought of having his mark on you. Especially in such a solid, inerasable way. 

She had included a few extras as well, ones he couldn’t wait to show you how to use. Weapons were an important part of the Mandalorian creed, but outside of other Children of the Watch, he had never seen someone as admiring of fine weaponry as you. He could practically see the grin on your face as you took in the additions to the inner forearms. In all honesty, he was almost a bit jealous.

What a pair the two of you would make, and everyone would know that you were with him. 

That you were his.

He saw movement in his periphery seconds before the hunter advanced. The man lunged for him. Not even bothering to draw a weapon, he expertly sidestepped, using his momentum to shove the man forward, off the thin expanse of roof. His footing gave way, and with a yelp, he desperately grabbed onto the high ledge. 

It seemed, despite being nowhere near the bounty itself, people just wanted to attack him. It could be the beskar, or the weapons, the idea of a Mandalorian, or just to prove to themselves that they could. Frustrating as it was, it meant that for every hunter he took down, there were less eyes on you.

Lifting the newly acquired rifle from his back, Mando took aim, blasting the man’s fingers from where they were grappling at the smooth stone. The recoil was strong, and the impact sang through his armour. It was no Amban phase-pulse rifle, but it would do for tonight. There was a crunch as he fell. He likely wasn’t dead, but he wouldn’t be in any fit shape to continue his pursuit. Good enough.

Mando continued down the path in a light-footed run, slinging the rifle over his shoulder as he went. Minutes later, after a minor crumb trail of about five other bodies and a quiet ascent onto the casino canopy, he was in position. 

A warm, golden aura poured from the skylight, momentarily blinding him as he adjusted the visor’s exposure settings. Faint jazz music wafted up along with a shrill singing voice. They had paid for a Pa’lowick, clearly sparing no expense in the lavish event. He sighed softly. He had always found their voices to be too nasal. He preferred deeper tones, low melodies, vibrations he could feel through the thick steel of his armour. He realized he had never talked about music with you. He wanted to know what you liked, whether your tastes aligned with his own. Given your past, he wondered if you had even been able to experience much music. He made a mental note for later, returning his focus to the task at hand.

There were people everywhere. More than he could count. Of all species and all sizes.

He had your features saved in the helmet’s databank, and he referred to them now to help identify you in the crowd. However, after a few minutes of scanning, he realized it would be futile. From this vantage point, he could really only see the top of hundreds of heads. He’d have to find you himself.

It was a gloriously garish scene, a dizzying mix of delicate silks, sparkling jewels, polished surfaces, and gilded bodies. He wondered for a moment if you felt out of your element, before realizing that the civilized and sophisticated nature of this casino was likely more familiar to your upbringing on the Death Star. 

He decided he didn’t like that idea. Your place was beside him, in the Crest, amongst metal and scum and swirling constellations. Not in this throng of fraudulent people and bloodied riches. Perhaps if he repeated it enough, he would eventually believe it.

Something solid made contact with the back of his helmet, and he heard the near inaudible click of a loaded blaster. He fought back a groan.

“Get up. Slowly.” The voice was female, raspy. He lifted both hands and, for once, did as he was told. You would have been proud.

She was a Palliduvan, barely older than an adolescent, though her slender fingers rested comfortably on the trigger. Clearly, she didn’t know how beskar worked.

“I’ve never seen a real Mandalorian before.” Well, that explained it.

He was only slightly exasperated. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

She motioned her blaster to the side, an indication for him to approach the edge of the roof. “It’s nothing personal Mando… just business.”

Just business. He allowed himself to be led to the precipice, hands behind his head as she came to stand behind him. 

“Jump.” 

So she was young and unwilling to kill, not a great combination for anyone in this line of work. He sighed again, louder this time, before he followed instruction. 

The Mandalorian stepped off the rooftop ledge. And fell.

The jetpack thrusters ignited with full force, and he felt the sharp impact through his whole body as he shot upwards and back, executing a full flip before coming to land behind her.

And then she was trapped between him and the rifle barrel, twisting towards the skylight, struggling to no avail. Her hands dropped the blaster in favour of trying to create any sort of space between her windpipe and the weapon. He held his ground, putting pressure on her neck.

“I’m not going to kill you,” he managed to grit out. “Trust me, I’m doing you a favour.” The woman’s jerking movements became weaker, and he focused ahead, on the warm light flowing from the casino down below, anything but the way she trashed about in his hold… like a frightened animal. Finally, she began to go limp in his arms. He held on until she stumbled, and then eased her to the ground.

But his eyes never left the glass. 

Because what he beheld within it was robbing him of coherent thought.

With predatory execution, Din flipped the rifle, stabilizing it over his shoulder, visor to the scope. He slid to the ground, right beside the now unconscious body of the Palliduvan girl and edged to the lip of the glass. His breastplate scraped uncomfortably across the stone. He barely noticed it.

He had become used to you aboard his ship, in dark gear stained with grease, dirt and sometimes even blood. Your behaviour had changed as you lived and travelled together, sharp edges softening, and your free laugh and casual mannerisms were now as familiar to him as the controls of the Crest.

But he saw none of what he knew in the woman below. 

The sharp edges were back, and every move… every smile… every sip of the sparkling drink in your hand was refined. Calculated.

You were beautiful. Lethally so.

This was the woman who had drawn the Emperor’s attention. The woman who had come face-to-face with death and darkness and bared her teeth at it.

He was very suddenly overcome with the urge to have you. To run his hands over the delicate fabric of your dress, the soft curves and planes of your body. To trace you with his fingers… and then with his tongue. To break you apart so thoroughly that you returned to the relaxed and natural version of yourself that he recognized. That he loved.

You were speaking to a trio of Nemoidians and all he could think about was the fact that they were standing too close, that they were looking too intently. But despite being half their height, you stood with the posture and self-assuredness of a queen.

A vivid image flickered behind his eyelids. Something he had never imagined, never thought he even desired. But he is there, seated comfortably on a cold, stone throne, the thick cape and pauldrons of the Mand’alor hanging from his shoulders. And draped across his legs is you, the picture of quiet strength and fatal power. The two of you… unbreakable.

He was wound so tightly he thought he might snap.

But then your companions were turning from you and, even through the open space, through the pane of glass separating you, your eyes flickered up and landed directly on him. As if you could feel him. And he recognized the faint softening of them, the hint of a smile that showed only for a second before you schooled your features back into nonchalance. Your stare dropped from his almost immediately.

His inhale was shaky. 

He was here. 

Maker, he was here.

Excitement, nervousness, and something else had you flexing your fingers. In the midst of your conversation, you had sensed his presence suddenly, like a shockwave, and had sought him out right away. A faint glint of beskar was visible from where you stood, and you could just make out the outline of him, equipped with a rifle that most definitely wasn’t his. For once, the emotions from him were clear and you could read him as easily as anyone else, even with the distance… and even with the helmet in place.

But what you had expected from him was apprehension and unease. The stiffness of stress that came with being on the job, out in the open. You couldn’t have been more wrong. He was on edge, but the overpowering feeling that floated around you, through you, it was hunger… craving. 

You bit down on your lip, hard. A much less sensible part of your brain considered it for a moment… just walking out right then and there. Damn the bounty. Judging by what you felt from him, you doubted he would have cared much either.

But then it tugged at you again, as it had countless times throughout the night. A light pressure in between your shoulder blades. Like a tap on the back. The crystal still beckoned to you. So you pushed the heat away, of his gaze, of the feeling now ever-present between your legs, and refocused on the target. Or, at least, you did the best you could. Smoldering lust, both his and your own, settled in your chest like the most dizzying sip of spotchka.

The red stone, barely smaller than your thumb, lay in a display case at the front of the room, along with an eclectic collection of other valuables, identifiable only by small placards at the front of each. Getting to it without drawing attention would be hard, near impossible, and you had caught many guests eyeing it throughout the night. You were not alone.

Which would have been a problem if not for the powerful pull in the opposite direction. You had scoped it out casually, while chatting with a visiting Pantoran couple. A storeroom with another exit, given that many employees had entered the door throughout the night, and not reappeared. It required a keycard to access, which had seemed to be the only snag. 

But it had been all too easy to engage in conversation with one of the serving staff, him leaning over to hear you better over the loud chatter of the main room. You had taken a flute of champagne from him, as well as the card from his side. He had been too busy looking at your chest to notice.

Now, you had simply been trying to find a moment to get away. The Nemoidians had complimented your dress, as many others had throughout the night, and you had willingly launched into a glowing review. Hopefully, if the guests were left breathing by the end of the night, some of them might pay Maya’s boutique a visit.

Downing the remnants of your glass and savouring the last taste of dry sparkling, you set it upon a table and turned, weaving your way through the crowd. One thing you had learned from your time with the Mandalorian was that it was much less suspicious if you walked around like you owned the place. The steady buzz of the alcohol also seemed to make it much easier to pretend. After scanning the keycard and watching with bated breath as the light flickered green, the door slid open on smooth hinges and closed behind you soon after. The sound of music and chatter was silenced almost completely.

It was as if you had entered a different world.

The room within was dimly lit and lined with shelves. There was no glitz or glamour here, just row upon row of boxes. You had been right about the alternate exit; it remained shut against the far wall, illuminated by a halo of red from the control panel. A quick scan yielded nothing out-of-the-ordinary, but as you stopped in the center of the area you felt it again, a tap on the shoulder. 

You’ve come for me.

It wasn’t a question. You whirled.

Silence. And then… Come closer.

You knew it then. The worn wooden case seemed to thrum with life from its position on the shelf in front of you. To the average eye, it would be indistinguishable from any other, but you knew better. Cautiously, almost in a daze, you approached it.

I had hoped it might be you.

There was absolutely no sense in resisting its allure. Your fingers snagged over the splinters in the lid and your hands shook slightly as you lifted it.

It was exactly as you had seen it in your dream, except somehow the veins running along its surface seemed deeper, in stark contrast with the bright scarlet of the stone.

And as you touched your fingers to it… lifted it from its bed of satin, it sighed in contentment. It felt right, and that worried you.

We are one.

It was wrong, of course. Once you got out of here, you’d chart course to Nevarro, hand it off to Karga and never have to think about it again. It seemed to chuckle at your naivete. You shook it off as best you could, going to tuck it into the tight fabric of your dress.

In that moment, the exit opened, and a human man walked in. You froze.

He noticed you almost immediately, surprise crossing his features before concern set in. “Hey. You’re not authorized to be in here.” His brow furrowed even more as he noticed the crystal in your hand. “You shouldn’t have that.”

There was no time to contemplate the morality of your actions. You had his mind in a snare within seconds, doing your best to ignore the fleeting pang of guilt. 

“I’m meant to take this.” There was a slight wobble in your tone. That wouldn’t do. 

You tried again. “You want me to take it.” The words were more determined this time. You, however, were not.

You watched him carefully, but his caution remained. Anxiety started to creep up your spine, into your neck. He just looked at you, unmoving.

Fingers had already reached for the dagger at your side before his face finally relaxed. “Yes, go, take it.” He nodded furiously, swinging his hand toward the door leading back to the casino. You didn’t wait for him to change his mind or break free from your control, making haste towards the entry, tucking the crystal into the fold of your dress. He muttered from behind you: “Though, I’m sure the buyer will not be very pleased.”

You were out of the storeroom before you could question that tidbit of information, the golden light so bright you had to squint as your eyes adjusted. 

Legs still weak from your moment of panic, you pressed a finger to your ear and activated the communicator. The strides you took were long and fast and you ached to get out into the open air, back to the Crest… to Din.

“I’ve got it. I’m headed to you.”

You barely registered his response. As you lowered your hand and stared ahead, you made direct eye contact with a familiar face. And it wasn’t one you had wanted to see today. The Weequay from Tatooine stared back at you, hints of recognition flashing through his own features. 

Shit.

He had his blaster drawn before you could even get a gulp of air down, and you just managed to duck behind one of the gambling tables before the first shot rang out.

The room descended into chaos. 

There were screams from every direction, replacing the upbeat melody of the band as it ground to a halt. People rushed the front of the room, and you barely had a moment to register just how many of the guests were being paid before he was in front of you once more, weapon aimed directly at your head. 

Your own name blared through the earpiece, along with a string of curses. You just had to get out of here and get to Mando. You’d figure a way out of this, as long as you were together.

Pushing out with the Force, his blaster shot went wide, and the gun flew from his grip. He didn’t miss a beat, engaging you hand-to-hand. His punches were powerful, but you had the speed and technique. More shots rang out behind you as you caught the fist he flung and twisted it until he shrieked. The injury from a few days ago was still fresh, and so you rebroke the man’s the arm in the exact same place. The pain sent him sprawling across the pristine marble tiles, but you didn’t linger long, moving through the crowd towards the large double doors. 

There were bloodstains on the floor, on the tablecloths, on a scattered deck of cards. Your mind seemed to blur out the background noise, falling into an alert, violent calm as you dodged bodies and weapons. 

Something blunt hit you in the side and you went down hard, the impact just barely broken by your hands. It was a Bith, or rather the body of a Bith, one of the players in the band that had hurled into you. You took in the looming figure of the man who had felled him, human, before you realized that his attention was squarely on you. On what had fallen from your dress as you tumbled. He looked again towards the front of the room, to the decoy that was caught in the midst of a bloodbath. Then back to you, headed for the exit.

He lunged and you rolled. You felt the tips of his fingers grasp at the edge of your heel, but you were pushing up, up, fighting through the weight of the unfamiliar skirts of your dress. A well-placed hook kick had him doubling over, and you used the gained time to bolt for the doors once more. Your heels slipped incessantly on the smooth marble, some areas now thick with different shades of blood, and you almost sighed in relief as they found purchase on the rough cobblestone of the street outside. People still fled in all directions, and you melded into the pandemonium. There was no time to check over your shoulder, to make sure that you were not being followed by the only hunter who knew what you carried. 

You headed back towards Maya’s shop, only because you were somewhat familiar with the winding streets that surrounded it. Again, the lanes quieted the further you strayed from the casino, and you weaved, a right, a left, two rights, and doubling back on yourself. Only once you were confident you had lost your pursuer did you press your back against concrete and breathe. Fast, heaving, gasps. You pressed a hand to your forehead, slick with sweat. Blaster fire could still be heard in the distance.

It had gone so wrong, so fast. A quiet escape might have been possible, if not for the Weequay. Clearly, your mind rubbing skills still left much to be desired. But at least the plan had been a success. You felt the jagged edges of the crystal through the cloth of your bodice, just to be sure it was really there.

As if you could forget.

It still hummed to you, less words now and more sounds, perhaps akin to the purring of a lothcat. It was unnerving. A larger part of you couldn’t wait to have it as far away from you as possible. 

Right.

You had to get back to the Crest. In case the two of you were separated, you had planned to meet back there. 

It was going to be one hell of a walk. You debated taking the heels off. Pushing off the wall, you strode for the east end of the street.

Yes, you would be taking the heels off. They tapped against the cobblestones in a pleasing tick, all but announcing your presence to anyone who might be close by. You stooped to fuss with the buckle. The first one snapped free before a hand closed around your neck, slamming you up against the wall. You saw stars.

The human hunter stared you down, green blood splattered across his angular face, lips pulled into a tight sneer. 

“Where. Is. It.” He shook you, a crazed look building in the depths of his pupils. Bloodlust. It would have been easy enough to recognize on his face, even without the pure violence that emanated from him. You had seen the Bith, the way he had felled it without a single ounce of remorse.

Finally. That part of you shrugged free of restraints as if they were wisps of cobweb. Your self control had been teetering on a dangerous edge since that night on Rishi, and if you were completely honest, holding back had done you more harm than good. Your thigh twinged as if it wished to remind you.

Besides, this wasn’t the type of man you let live. And what a relief that was.

You might have been laughing as he thrust you back into the stone again. It only fueled his ire.

“Crazy bitch,” he spat. “I’ll kill you and find it myself.” He missed the way you reached for the vibroblade beneath the silks of your skirt.

“Try it.” You hissed, before plunging the knife into his upper thigh. He roared, the hold on your neck loosening just enough.

You shouldn’t have been using the Force when you didn’t need to, but it was oh so satisfying to blow him back and feel his bones creak under the pressure of it. It was a marvel he even managed to stay upright.

Leisurely, you pushed off the wall, walking on the toes of your left foot to balance with the heel still on your right. He was too focused on prying the blade from his leg, the metal hitting the cobblestones with a clang. There was pure rage in the air. Oh, you wanted to take your time with him. 

He was livid, so laser-focused on you that he didn’t think to check behind him. If he had, he might have seen the looming shadow before it struck. If he was perceptive, he may have noticed the blade that ignited at his back, may have seen the faint aura it cast on the ground and walls of the otherwise quiet street.

But all he saw was you. And as he swung forward, the heat of the darksaber broke clean through his sternum. He only managed to gasp once before it retracted, and he crumpled.

You furrowed your brow, nose crinkling as you beheld the armoured giant who stood in his place. The cloak was off-kilter, half draped over one of his shoulders. 

“Show-off,” you muttered. 

The saber extinguished and he returned it to its spot on his belt, leaving the Mandalorian bathed in warm lamplight. “Did I ruin your fun?” His voice was low. Your lost shoe dangled from his other hand.

Holy maker. You hadn’t considered that the distance between you earlier might have dulled what you sensed from him. But as you stood now, mere inches from the breastplate that rose and fell with heavy breaths, it curled around you like sweet-smelling smoke.

It wasn’t just that he wanted you. 

It felt as if he wanted to devour you. The realization was electrifying. 

You closed the gap, the earlier promise of bloodshed shifting into something arguably much more deadly. Your eyes never left the visor.

“And if I told you that you did?”

An arm came to rest lightly on your hip, and you marveled at what such a simple touch could do. “I’d find you another one.” There was no hesitation. If it was what you wanted, he would capture you another hunter, sit, and watch while you took them apart.

And what if I wanted to take you apart instead? 

You pushed the edge of the cowl down, dragging a nail over the sliver of skin along his neck, over the pulse that jumped there. “I know you would.” His breath hitched and he groaned, so quietly. It may have been the most delicious sound you had ever heard.

Quite similarly to the dead man, you were so engulfed in him, his sounds, his scent, his emotions, that you barely noticed the presence down the street until it was too late.

A blaster sounded and you twisted. The bolt stopped in midair, spasming as it fought against your hold. Din had his own drawn in a split second, firing back one single shot. It struck the IG-86 unit through its central processor, and it went down with a loud clank. You pulled him by his pauldrons to the side, finally releasing the red blast. It zipped past the two of you, blowing chunks of stone off the side of the building across the street.

You couldn’t help it. A delirious laugh escaped you.

He studied you seriously. “Are you drunk?”

A large hand was splayed against the small of your back, pressing you into him in the most pleasurable way. A hard edge of protectiveness now coated the desire that was still ever-present in the small space between your bodies. So no, the intoxication you felt had absolutely nothing to do with the champagne you had consumed earlier.

All you could do was shake your head, still gasping in laughter. You weren’t sure you could trust your voice to be steady right now.

“Okay…” It sounded dubious. He didn’t move, just kept looking at you. “We need to get back to the Crest.” 

Always right to business with you. Castann’s accent echoed faintly through your mind.

The pout was inevitable. The last thing you wanted to do was make the trek back to the ship right now. You wondered if he’d be opposed to just finding a quiet corner.

“I really don’t want to walk right now.” Come on, come on, go with me here.

You could have sworn you heard his grin as he replied, “Who said anything about walking?”

The press of a button had the jetpack thrusters extending. Your jaw dropped. 

Absolutely not happening.

Backing away, you lifted your hands. “No, no, nope. No way.”

He didn’t let you get far, advancing like you were a scared Blurrg before he caught you around the waist. His grip was firm, the feel of his body almost making you forget why you were retreating in the first place. Damn him.

“Come on, don’t you trust me?”

“That’s not fair.”

“Sure it is.” He was relentless. “When have I ever led you astray?”

“Uh, maybe the gigantic ice spiders on Maldo Kreis? Or, how about, come on let’s go wrangle a Rancor!” Your imitation of his modulated voice was badly executed, but in the moment, you couldn’t have cared less. “I could keep going!”

The pauldrons were shaking with silent laughter. “We got out of all of those alive, didn’t we?” You inhaled sharply, fully ready to argue when the helmet dipped low, to the junction where your neck met your shoulder. 

“Trust. Me. Mesh’la.” You trembled slightly in his arms. 

Oh, that was extremely unfair. You exhaled in defeat.

When he drew back, you hoped your eyes still held some hint of menace. “Do not drop me, Din Djarin.”

He swept an arm under your knees before igniting the jetpack. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

And then you were shooting upward, leaving the rooftops far behind. On instinct alone you clung to him, face buried in the scratchy fabric around his neck. Wind ripped at your dress.

He might have been laughing. You couldn’t be sure over the roaring in your ears.

But his glove was pressing against the skin behind your knees and the vibration of his voice radiated through his armour, all around you. 

“You really don’t want to miss this view.”

It was terribly dangerous. Not the flying… not the height… no. The fact that he knew you’d do practically anything he asked, as long as it was delivered with a low voice and ghosting touches. And you could tell that he knew it too. Asshole.

You had to squint against the wind as you turned away from him. Arms curled tighter around you frame as you shifted you weight. But maker… he was right.

The lamplight twinkled down below like the warmest stars. And beyond it… Your breath caught.

The sea, accented with choppy whitecaps, lapped up against a sandy shore, and the moonlight cast a bright track across its surface. Just ahead, a sharp cliff face jutted towards the water. You could just barely make out the tall grasses that swung in the night’s breeze. Beneath you, the lux of the town was a stunning vista, the absolute portrait of wealth and class. That is, if you looked past the occasional sharp flash of blasterfire. 

It was mesmerizing. 

“See… not so bad right?”

You cut him a snarky glare. If you weren’t so terrified of loosening your grip so high up in the air, you might have smacked him on the shoulder.

But then his arms slackened, and you catapulted downward. The air was ripped right from your lungs before he banked and pulled up sharply. Somehow you still managed to yelp, hiding blindly in his cowl.

He was laughing in earnest now, and if you had been able to look past your moment of panic, you would have dwelled for longer upon how genuinely beautiful the sound was.

Instead, you hissed, “Djarin, I am going to kill you when we land.” You managed to drag your face towards the view once more, if only because, despite your anger, the masculine scent of him was making your thoughts travel down more explicit avenues.

Somehow, the hand on your knees had managed to travel up towards your thigh, curling around the inside. He squeezed once. “Can’t wait.” Farrik.

Finally, the cliffs rose to meet you, succeeding in lessening your perturbation only slightly. He skimmed lower to the ground and, had you been brave enough to let go of him for more than a moment, you might have been able to brush your hand through the wispy stalks of grass.

The ramp lights of the Crest were just starting to become visible, and it struck a chord in your chest. It felt like home. And despite only being away for a night, you found you missed the telltale ticks and clunks of the old ship, the interspersed beeping of its processes, even the lumpy uncomfortable mess of blankets atop a wiry cot that had become your bed.

Waking up to the smell of caf—the way Din would wordlessly hand you the cup as soon as you entered the flight deck in the morning. Both of you so familiar with each other that he knew to wait until you had a few sips before launching into the day’s events.

Dragging bounties back into the hull, bodies sore and aching.

Falling asleep in the jumpseat as he flew, waking hours later to find your bones actually hurt even more than before. 

Playing with Grogu, the child having figured out all of the Crest’s good hiding places. Din had initially advised against letting the kid worm his way into small crevices, but it turned out to be a good way of finding where the ship had loose bolts.

Tucking him into his floating cradle at the end of each day, and seeing the adoration in his depthless eyes, even with the lack of light in the hull.

It dawned on you that most of what you considered to be ‘home’ wasn’t tied to the place itself, but rather to the people you shared it with. As if that were surprising in the slightest.

The thrusters puttered out and Din landed lightly on his toes, swinging you down so you could stand. You didn’t move to distance yourself from him.

You were staring, and there was absolutely no effort to hide it. His stance grew slightly awkward, as it so often did under your close scrutiny. You loved that about him.

“What?” He seemed sheepish.

You were smiling wide. “Nothing.”

“I thought you made some sort of comment about killing me when we landed?”

You laughed breathlessly. His arms seemed to tighten around you in response. The breastplate rose and fell. You matched his rhythm.

“I like that.” He seemed to sigh.

“Like what?”

“When you laugh.”

You cocked your head at him. “I laugh all the time.”

“I like it when you laugh because of me.” It was far from the declaration he so desperately wanted to give, but you melted at the way he bared a bit of himself to you.

“I’m not going to kill you.” He huffed in response. You traced the emblem in the center of his armour. “I still need someone to fly us out of here.”

“Anything to worm your way out from under the controls.”

You had planned a perfectly sarcastic comeback, but it was abruptly cut short as blaring lights cut over the face of the cliff.

He twisted you towards the ramp, pushing you ahead of him. “Police. We’ve got to go.”

“What? Why are they after us?” You made it into the hull, and he followed close behind, the door already retracting in your wake. “They can’t possibly know—”

He cut you off. “Honestly, it’s probably parking enforcement. But I don’t want to stick around and find out.”

Nevertheless, he took a second to help you up the ladder to the cockpit, the simple sliding of fingers enough to rekindle that fire between you. 

He jerked away, twisting, and busying himself with the buttons and switches, as if the touch had stung. You couldn’t help but smile at it, taking your respective seat to his right.

Din had layers to him, you had noticed. Especially when it came to intimacy between you. The first was feigned indifference which, naively, you had taken as the truth for much of your time together. Months ago, you would have perceived him pulling away as such, but you knew him better now. Megaphones blared from outside the ship, but you barely noticed them.

“You are on private property. Please relinquish your craft, or we will shoot it down.”

You were zeroed in on the way his hands manipulated the controls, the deftness of each press, flick, pull. The roar of the engines was music to your ears.

Past that top layer lay the confidence and assertiveness of a hunter. The burning hot desire communicated clearly through the press of his body in all the right places. You had seen that firsthand when he had you up against the wall on Rishi, and again in the hull of the Crest. And you felt it, maker, you still did feel it radiating like tangible heat from his mind.

You crossed your legs, just to relieve some of the ache as the ship rose from the ground, the grass blasted back in its wake.

“I repeat, please relinquish your craft, This is your last warning.”

He flexed his hand once before resting it on the lever. 

But beyond it was what you loved most. For when you reciprocated that desire and touched him in the ways you so desperately wanted to, you could easily sense it. The bashfulness, a shy temperament. Somehow, you knew his cheeks would have a pleasant rosy tint to them. There was something so precious about it, the fact that you could bring a blush to the deadly creature in front of you. Oh but you wondered what would lie beneath that layer.

“Hold on.” It was the only warning he gave before the ship shot forward, the force pressing your spine into the worn leather of the seat. 

And he was magnificent when he flew.

The ship skimmed low to the ground, the sound of stun blasts striking just out of range. 

And then the ground dropped out from beneath you. Mando sent the Crest into a freefall, your stomach flying into your throat. But when you squealed this time, it was in delight.

Stars, you loved this ship. Almost as much as its pilot.

His fingers pulsed against the centre stick, and you watched as the choppy ocean water loomed closer and closer. In typical fashion, he waited until the very last moment to pull up, metal creaking with the effort. Some small part of you wondered if he was showing off… maybe just a little.

It took a few moments, but eventually the police speeders fell back, accepting the fact that the Crest was much too rapid to pursue. And so you flew, faster than the wind itself, across the glass surface and up… up past the white puffs of cloud, illuminated with eerie, cold moonlight, and back into the stars. 

He slowed slightly, only to punch the coordinates of Nevarro into the navicomputer. As the ship shot forward into the comforting embrace of hyperspace, you saw him visibly relax.

You, however, were still out of breath, almost giggling.

He turned to face you, punching the autopilot button and relinquishing control of the ship. “Hi.”

“Hi.” you repeated. Your mouth had widened into a broad, silly grin.

A moment of silence passed as he seemed to take you in, discernable only by the slight trailing of the visor down your frame. 

“You look…”

You stood animatedly from the jumpseat, executing a graceful three-sixty spin to show off the dress. The fabric brushed against the steel floor with a hiss and you twisted, dizzy from both the movement and the overpowering sense of being alone with him. Finally. You felt as if there was golden glitter behind your eyelids. 

Despite your excitement, when you came to face him again, the muddled emotions you usually sensed from him were back, serious… almost somber. Your smile faltered. For a beat, there was no sound beyond the beeping of the Crest, and the low hum of the engines, the whisper of the stars. 

Had you missed something? Misread the situation? Was he injured? Oh maker, if he had gotten hurt and you hadn’t even realized because you were so distracted by—

“Come here.”

His voice was lethally soft, and you broke out in goosebumps at the simple sound of it. Albeit slowly… carefully, your body obeyed of its own accord.

Ah, there it was. You were getting better at reading him. Din’s mind was a stage, used to putting up a front, a performance. But if you were to lightly push back on the velvet curtain…

A molten volcano lay behind it. 

He parted for you, and you stepped into his space, hands finding his shoulders as his own came to rest on the back of your legs. Through the thin fabric, it felt as if there was nothing separating you at all.

For once, he had to angle his head up to look at you. You liked how it made you feel. The last few hours had been chaotic and dangerous, and you knew you’d be absolutely exhausted tomorrow. But for now, there was adrenaline coursing through your veins and all you could think about was how you wanted more… more of this… more of him.

Using his shoulders to stabilize yourself, you sat sideways across his lap. His arms came up to cradle you, but he said nothing for a long moment. It made you nervous.

“Is this okay?”

Since that evening on Rishi, you had been toeing a line, testing boundaries, never quite setting foot beyond what had happened then. This was all new territory for you, especially with him, and you had never been so afraid to mess things up.

“No…,” he replied. 

No. 

You stood abruptly, suddenly unsure of what to do with your hands. “I’m sorry, I—"

But he was up just as fast, reaching for you as he was afraid you might bolt. “No, I just… Please.” You had never heard him sound so… desperate.

“Please what?”

He guided you in a circle, until you were sat in his seat, back facing the window. It was still warm from the heat of him. “Please just… let me.”

You needed clarification… needed it so badly, but he simply knelt in front of you, took off his gloves, as he had done so many times.

You were reminded of the fact that you only wore one heel when he reached for the strap at your ankle, calloused fingers brushing ever so gently at the skin there. You were rendered immobile by the softness of the movement, so at odds with the red-hot emotions that burned around the edges of the room.

It came free and he slid it off with preternatural stillness. You could barely take it anymore, the quiet, the holding back.

“Din.” He looked at you, as if jolted out of a trance. Just out of reach.

For the millionth time you tried to move beyond the opaque darkness of the visor, to see a glimpse of what lay behind it. “You’re not going to scare me away.” 

He didn’t reply. But you could feel him, contemplating, weighing his options… and the consequences of each. Your calf was tingling where his fingertips still connected with bare skin. 

Maker, you were tired of waiting. It was a sharp movement, the way you leaned forward in the captain’s chair and grasped him, hands nestling in the indents on each side of the helmet.

“I want this.” The whirling stars reflected in the glossy surface of his armour. He was breathing deeply, and you might have matched his inhales to your own. “I want you.”

Wide, tan hands curled over your own. And then he was standing, pulling him with you, ever so gently. Nothing from him, absolutely nothing. No conflict, no warring emotions, no confusion. Just quiet.

“Close your eyes.”

You did so immediately, still drawing warmth from the feeling of his hands against your own. 

Don’t you trust me? 

His words from earlier came floating back on a phantom wind. The answer, of course, was yes. Undoubtedly. Always. With anything. With your life… with your heart.

You almost whined when you sensed the distance he put between you. When his callouses slid against your palms. The cockpit door opened… and closed. It was silent for a long moment.

Quietly hyperventilating, you were rooted in place, staring into the endless darkness behind your eyelids. Nervousness trailed fingers up your spine and dug nails into your palms. You were so sure of this, sure of him, but there were aspects you hadn’t yet considered. 

Was this the right choice? Would it ruin the way things had been between you? What if, after seeing you… all of you, he decided there was something he didn’t like? What if he tired of you? What if you simply weren’t enough?

The door slid open sharply and you couldn’t help but jump at the sudden sound. Your entire body was buzzing, fear, adrenaline, desire.

Boot soles against durasteel brought you back to the present. You could sense him mere paces away. Why wouldn’t he come closer? 

You were wracked with a moment of self-consciousness, becoming hyperaware of the dress you wore, the way the circulated air brushed against your neck, arms, legs.

“So beautiful.” Din’s voice was husky in a way you had never heard before and instantly everything melted away. You may as well have been a puddle at his feet.

You felt him first against the backs of your hands, trailing up your arms to your shoulders, leaving goosebumps behind. He spun you slowly, so your back was resting against his breastplate. Starlight bled through your lids, creating the most pleasant kaleidoscope of colour. 

Confusion bled into bliss as he curled a hand around your neck, tugging back just slightly, careful to avoid the places that will still tender from when you were attacked. Always gentle. But then there was movement, a rustling, and something scratchy settled over your eyes, blocking out the aura of hyperspace. A blindfold. He tied it off with surprisingly nimble fingers at the back of your head.

You couldn’t help but exhale a light laugh. “You don’t trust me?”

But any humour evaporated into nothingness as you heard the faint hiss of a disengaged helmet. And a breath. A real, unmodulated breath. 

Maker, save you.

The first press of his lips against your neck absolutely undid you. They were soft, warm. You were barely holding yourself up anymore, pressed up against him, neck lolling back. Din’s deep voice traced the shell of your ear.

“I trust you mesh’la.” A hand splayed low on your stomach and travelled across to your waist. You could feel the ammunition on his belt digging into your spine. “But what I’m about to do might make you lose control a little…” He kissed you again, in the hollow of your collarbone. “…and I can’t take any chances.”

You might have exploded right then and there, in his arms. If you had, he likely would have pieced you together with open-mouthed kisses, back up the side of your neck and along the edge of your jaw. He would have spun you back to face him before finally giving you what you wanted.

Wait… perhaps you had exploded. Perhaps you were dead, all over the floor of the cockpit. Perhaps this was heaven. It sure felt like it, the way he claimed you like you were made for him. 

You moaned into his mouth, an absolutely pitiful sound and he answered it with his own, feral and animalistic. You weren’t able to see him, but stars, you could feel him. The bridge of an angular nose, rough stubble under your fingertips and as you dragged your hands upwards…

You laughed into the kiss, and he finally tore himself away. You were both out of breath.

“What?” he asked. Oh, he sounded flustered. Good.

You tugged on his hair for emphasis. “Curls… I knew it.”

And then he was laughing along with you, and without the helmet… it was magical.

But he was wearing so much, and you were wearing so little. You couldn’t tell if you loved it or hated it.

There was no guilt. Not a second of it as he blurred the lines of the creed he had remained loyal to for as long as he could remember. It was worth it. For even a second of this, it was worth it.

Din kissed you like he had always yearned to. This time hard, with no restraint. And you matched him, beat for beat, hands fisted in his hair. A livewire in his arms. Firm pulls on the unruly curls sent shivers down his neck and when you bit down lightly on his bottom lip, he twitched.

He was already painfully hard, straining uncomfortably against the fabric of his trousers. All the sexual experiences he had in the past were in pursuit of his own pleasure, transactional, simple. This was anything but.

The little sounds you made drove him crazy, sending jolts of pleasure through him as if you had actually touched him, grasped him through the rough weave of his flight suit. There was nothing he wanted more than to keep drawing those moans from you, to know that you were incoherent, past the point of words, because of him.

But when you reached for the buckle on his weapons belt, determinedly pulling on the strap to free it, his brain went completely fuzzy. How many times had he dreamed of this, imagined the way you would feel against him, over top of him, underneath him, around him. Somehow it was better… so much better than anything he might have conjured up in his mind. 

When you pulled away this time, he relished in the way you gasped for breath, lips parted, slightly swollen. You were tugging at him, skin positively feverish, and murmuring. “Please.” 

He stole your words from earlier. “Please what?... What do you want?”

“Something. Anything. Just touch me… please.”

He was going to go insane.

Din eased you back into the pilot’s chair and you went willingly, leaning into the worn leather. He had to stop for a moment, just to look at you, resplendent in silver and black. His seat might as well have been your throne. It was then that he noticed it, the delicate whorls of dark grey that adorned the silky fabric. He studied a piece of your skirt, running the fabric through his fingers… and smiled.

You were impatient, grasping at air while he stood just out of your reach. “Come back.” But he dropped to his knees instead. 

In the moment he knew that this was it for him… you were it, and he wanted to do it all right. Take it slow. Worship you thoroughly, the way you deserved. 

He grasped at your ankle first, the fabric sliding as he pressed a kiss to the inside of it. The armrest groaned under your nails; it was music to his ears. “Tell me if it’s too much…” He travelled upward with his lips, to your calf, eyes never leaving your face. “…or if you want me to stop.”

He reached the inside of your knee, and you were already panting. The fact that he had this effect on you… it was everything. His lips trailed up to your thigh next, the skirt parting even further to reveal the sheath tied there. It bore only one dagger now, the rusted one from Sorgan. Din had retrieved the vibroblade from the cobblestones in Canto Bight, though you seemed to have forgotten that you lost it. Could he blame you? You were more than a little distracted.

It was impossible to stop from smirking against your skin as he found the clasp for it, popping it free and carefully unwinding the leather from around your leg. He had some unholy ideas for how to use your knives… but now wasn’t the time for it.

You were bared to him now, legs spread wide, and he thought he might pass out at the sight of it. But when he reached for the waistband of your underwear you tensed, inhales growing sharp. Din paused.

You may have been able to use your mind tricks to read him, but Din had needed to become well versed in your behaviour and body language to be able to gauge your own emotions. And now he recognized your reaction for what it really was. You were nervous. He loved that too. 

But you had absolutely no reason to be… not around him. He ghosted his lips over your hip. He’d tell you. He’d show you.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve been wanting to do this?”

“How long?” The question hadn’t exactly been rhetorical, but he hadn’t expected you to actually ask. Nevertheless, he gave the absolute truth.

“Since the day I met you.” You huffed and he felt you relax again, a wry smile painting your lips. 

So he continued. “Since you fought beside me.” He tugged lightly on the elastic again, and this time, you lifted your hips for him. 

“Since you asked to stay with me.” 

You were so wet he thought he was going to die. All this time… all these months when you had tiptoed around each other, he could have had you up against the wall of the Crest, on the storage room floor, over the flight deck dashboard, on the ladder, in the fresher, on the cot. 

Fuck, he was an idiot.

But he had you now, and he intended to make every second worth it.

He kissed you at your apex, eyes always on your face, and you shivered, pressing your lips together in a tight line.

Din could tell you were holding back, and as he bit down lightly on the flesh of your thigh, just shy of where you wanted him most, you clapped a hand over your mouth to smother the sound of your moan. He paused once more to reach up and pry your fingers away, whispered your name.

“Don’t. I want to hear you.”

He left your fingers intertwined against the armrest, because he wanted to feel the way you would clutch him when he kissed you… 

There.

“Holy shit, Din.” You back bowed off the chair, and he had to place his other palm against your abdomen to keep you in place as he continued. Something about the way you said his name sent waves of pleasure through him, the seam of his pants adding friction to his already aching erection.

He ate like a man starved, feeding greedily on your gasps and moans and the way you tightened your hand under his own. He couldn’t get enough of the feel of you against his tongue and he wondered for a moment how—now that you were past the point of no return—he would ever get himself to stop.

Giving your hand a gentle squeeze, he looked up through his lashes at you again, and almost came at the sight before him. 

Your head was leaned back against the headrest and your lips were parted, chest rising and falling at uneven intervals. But you had started to roll your hips against him, seeking more pressure, more pleasure. He chuckled lightly, the vibrations making you sigh.

He’d always give you what you wanted.

Detangling your fingers was a herculean effort. With his freed hand, he hitched your leg up over his shoulder, and it rested comfortably between the cowl and his pauldron. Just like he had imagined.

He teased you for a bit… as if you even needed it. Truthfully, he enjoyed it, revelled in it, his control… your reactions. But when he finally slid a finger into you, he felt the way you tensed around him. His eyes almost rolled back at the sensation. But this was all about you. 

Slowly. He would have to take it very slowly.

“You still with me, cyare?” The Mando’a name flowed easily off his tongue. “You have to tell me how it feels.”

He moved just enough, curling his finger, and feeling you relax, a fraction, little by little. You were gripping at the armrests with both hands, loosing the most erotic little noises he had ever heard. He could get high off them, he thought.

“Keep going. Fuck, keep going.” Another jolt of ecstasy speared through him at the low sound of your voice, travelling straight to his cock, and he hadn’t realised just how close he was.

Just from this. Just from touching you, tasting you.

Din obliged your request and wondered whether he would even last a second once he was buried in you. Stars, the way you clenched around him… it was dangerous to imagine what it would feel like.

He fucked you with his hand, slow and lazy, brushing his thumb in circles around the place that had you cursing like a pirate.

Time may have melded together like that, out between the stars. It felt surreal that this was happening, after he had pined for you for so long. Real, not a dream. He repeated it in the back of his brain, afraid that if he stopped, if he forgot, he might wake up alone in his pile of blankets in the hull.

But he was finally convinced when you choked on his name, the sound urgent and desperate. Your back arched off the seat, and on instinct alone, he circled your waist to steady you.

“That’s it… I’ve got you.” 

You were half gasping, half whimpering through your orgasm. He held you through it all, as your body trembled through the come down, and as his own did too.

For a moment, your forehead found his, and you drank each other’s gasping breaths. He watched you, secretly, the entire time.

And when your hands reached for him greedily, he intercepted them by the wrists. “I don’t want to go to fast.” In all honesty, he was too embarrassed to tell you that he came in his pants just from listening to you moan. 

You pulled back, but he didn’t let you get far, cradling your jaw. You leaned into the touch. “I’m going to take my time with you.” That, however, was the absolute truth.

The sounds of the Crest came bleeding back in. He felt something rise up inside of him, an unstoppable force.

Those three words. He still wasn’t sure if you were ready to hear them. It took the strength of a Bantha to push them back down. 

Soon… soon he would tell you.

You were still partially in shock by the time you had finished in the fresher and made your way back up to the flight deck.

Yes, you had imagined it—more times than you would care to admit—but you never thought that it would be like that.

You were already aching for him again. How in the hell were you supposed to get anything productive done when any time you looked at him you would remember how his mouth had felt on you, how he had masterfully worked you through your release.

So screwed.

Voices filtered through the cockpit door as you made your way up the ladder and, still feeling shy, you pressed your ear to the door instead of entering.

The Mandalorian spoke in a low tone. “I’ve secured the bounty. I’m on route to Nevarro now.”

Karga’s enthusiastic voice was unmistakable. “Mando! See, I just knew you would be the one to do it.” There was a pause before he continued. “But you know, there’s a hunter from Corellia who claims he has it too.”

“Have I ever lied to you before?” That darkness, the kind he reserved for his work, sent a thrill back up your spine.

Karga laughed, the sound interspersed with static. “Well of course not! I just thought I’d let you know. Besides, word is you had help from someone… a partner, perhaps?”

Shit. Someone must have seen you together and reported it back.

“Is that a problem?”

“No, no! Your business is your business. But you know, Mando…

I think it’s about time I meet her.”

Taglist: @that-girl-named-alex @aavengingbucky @prismaticpizza @blub-senpai @a-phan-of-youtube @jaguarthecat @lizajane3 @come-hell-or-eldren-fire @graciexmarvel @soobinsrose @simply-maggie @alwaysdjarin @minky77 @tinytinturtle @tae27 @groguspicklejar

[jonathanvik]

Starlight Dream - Chapter 1

The slop squelched onto Seina's plate. Pieces of her dinner splashed onto her plain blue dress, staining it. Not that the server cared, glaring at her to keep moving. The workers only had two twenty-minute breaks in their thirteen-hour day. The servers tolerated no dillydallying, especially from rambunctious young girls like her.

Seina kept her head down and kept moving, else she draw more attention to herself. She'd have to spend some time before bed cleaning it. By rule, the higher-ups allowed the workers only one outfit.

Her parents waved her over, and Seina joined them. Before the darkness, her father had worked at an insurance firm as a salaryman. Years of hard labor and ill nutrition had left him gaunt and bony, losing most of his hair during the process. Despite this, he kept a positive attitude. Her father never stopped smiling, always saying there was a silver lining behind anything. Seina wasn't sure what silver lining existed to a life with a 78-hour workweek of menial labor, and being fed food even dogs would be reluctant to eat. Still, she appreciated the encouragement.

"Oh dear, did you receive a stain, Seina?" Seina's mother said as she approached the grimy rusty table her family sat around. While somewhat plain, the matronly woman wore a face people instinctively trusted. "I'll ask around to see if I can get an extra detergent ration. Can't have the taskmasters seeing my daughter walk around in soiled clothes." Like her father, her mother was also always smiling. It made Seina feel guilty for being miserable most days.

Not that they really had days anymore. Thick smoke covered the sky, making even the sunniest days hazy and ugly. The masters' power had ensured the sun would never shine again.

Seina gave the nearest taskmaster a nervous sideways glance. Pointed teeth glistened from under his lips, marking him as the monster he was. She gave him a respectful nod, not showing an ounce of disrespect. She'd seen people staked for less. Their boss enjoyed twisting people into grotesque art pieces to mock their human workers. For the majority of Seina's ten-year existence, vampires had dominated the world.

Somehow, Seina got her stomach to agree with the slop they'd served her. Her parents weren't as picky, happily sipping away at their meal. After another tentative bite, an interruption caught her attention, making her blood turn cold. A high-ranking vampire had entered their eating area, a black silk cape flowing behind him. They were never a good sign.

"Attention. The Dark Lord is looking for volunteers for tonight's entertainment, and you're the lucky bunch, 2-B!" The man gave them a cruel smile. "Come this way. I'd advise not to keep Master Lothaire waiting."

Fear rooted Seina's feet in place, knowing the likely fate which awaited them. She'd seen it often enough. Master Lothaire loved making them watch his entertainments. Her father put a comforting hand on her shoulder, wearing a bright smile.

"Don't worry dear. Most groups come back alive afterward. They can't afford to kill entire scores of us. They'll pick a few and leave the rest alone."

Her mother nodded in agreement, also wearing a wide, encouraging smile. "He's right, Seina. I better take care of that stain. Have to look our best for the vampire lord! How's my hair look?"

"Just smashing honey!" Her father replied. "You'll knock them dead!"

Her mother blushed. "Stop it!"

While not as optimistic, Seina got her feet moving. She joined the others in her workgroup towards Master Lothaire's favorite colosseum, allowing the head vampire to shackle her.

"What a dreary place!" Colten said, examining the strange new world he'd found himself in. He flew high into the smoky area, examining everything with interest. What a terrible place to find himself. The people looked shabby, dressed in rags. Their living conditions seemed little better. Most buildings were either dilapidated or empty. The fear behind the human's eyes broke his tiny heart. Something terrible had happened here.

As he scanned his surroundings, something caught his eye. Were those people in chains? Dark creatures were guiding their captives towards one of the few well-maintained buildings in the city. It was a massive dome-like building and, unlike most structures, had bright flashing lights. From the captive's expressions, most believed they were going to die. It shocked him to see children among them.

Colten screamed in frustration. What could he do? His power was limited, drained from his trip, and he was only a tiny fairy. Dark energy spilled from the people's captors. They were powerful creatures of pure darkness. The evil intensified when he looked towards the shining dome. He sensed great malice there.

"Darn it!" He looked towards the scared people again and made a decision. Moments later, he flew towards the colosseum, praying he could do something.

People packed the stadium. They bumped and jostled Seina as she attempted to walk through them. Master Lothaire must have called everyone in the Osaka district to attend his games. The vampire elite were jeering and having fun, watching the helpless, terrified humans with amusement. One grabbed a random passerby, and Seina looked away, not wishing to see what happened next. She'd heard and seen enough to know the rest.

The entire building was a testament to the master of humanity's power. Statues of people wearing expressions of agonizing pain decorated the walls. Rumors said they were actual people, turned to stone through a vampire's power during their death throes and maybe even still suffering. The details on them gave some unsettling credence to this theory.

Soon they reached a large circular room with countless bleachers, each occupied by a vampire eager for tonight's festivities. Master Lothaire himself sat on a throne of ivory, looking down upon his domain from the balcony. The vampire lord was handsome beyond words, taking Seina's breath away, despite knowing his true monstrous nature. The proof hung around his neck. He wore a necklace of skulls, each of a world leader he'd killed after taking their country for his own. In the throne beside him sat Lilha, his queen. She also shared her husband's inhuman beauty, only her eyes betrayed her lack of humanity, and Seina shivered when they shared a glance. She was only a toy Lilha would enjoy before throwing away.

"Welcome, friends!" Master Lothaire said. Despite not raising his voice, Seina could hear him despite the distance. "Tonight marks the fifth anniversary of my conquest of the world. In honor of that victory, I've provided entertainment and games for all to enjoy. Eat, drink, and be merry! For this kingdom will last a thousand years and beyond!" The vampire crowd broke into uproarious cheering and applause.

Seina's legs shook. This was worse than she'd first suspected. The odds of survival seemed almost impossible. She calmed down somewhat when her father put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Don't worry, we'll get through this." Her father said, wearing a warm smile.

"Our first entertainment will be a favorite of mine, a battle to the death!" Master Lothaire said, continuing. "Against your favorite and mine, Dreven the Unkillable!"

Bar doors opened in the fighter's pit, revealing a shirtless vampire. Unlike most of his kind, this vampire had a powerfully built body, seeming more alive than his undead kin. He played to the crowd, who gave him cheers and tossed him decayed flowers.

_Wow, Dreven the Unkillable. I feel sorry for anyone who's going to face him. He's never lost a fight, ever. _Wasn't his win count eight thousand to zero or something?

"And his opponent will be a volunteer from worker group 2-B!" Master Lothaire said, surprising Seina out of her pondering.

_This is so bad! _That meant someone she'd know for most of her life would soon die. It was too horrible to even consider. The girls in her division openingly wept, almost terrified beyond reason. Uncle Kenji offered brave words, but they fell on deaf ears.

"No need to rush." A vampire dressed like a cheesy announcer, complete with a tacky polka-dot bow tie, said. "But if you don't volunteer soon, there will be consequences."

The captive humans remained silent, too frightened to do anything. The vampire announcer's annoyance grew by the moment.

"Still no response? Oh well." The announcer shrugged. "I'll make it easier for you. The fighter will come from chapter D. That simplifies things. You better choose quickly, or you will all die in one minute."

D? That was Seina's division. No, please no. Anything but that. Usually, divisions had five people, but 2-B was missing two. One died of exhaustion last week, and the other suffered a terrible mining accident.

It was too horrible to consider. Would this mean that... Seina yelped in surprise as someone pushed her forward, howling in pain as she landed face-first on the fighter's pit floor. She spat after getting some dirt into her mouth.

"Well, well! Looks like we have a volunteer!" The announcer said. The crowd burst into laughter.

"What? No!" Seina's eyes widened in horror. What had just happened? Who pushed her? She looked up to see her father with a hand extended outward.

"Dad?" Seina said, too stunned for words.

"Sorry honey, but it was either you or us!" Her father replied.

"Don't worry, Seina. We'll always remember you!" Her mother added.

"W-what?"

"We'll be sorry to see you go. But don't worry, we'll have a new daughter in your honor!" Her father continued.

Her mother gave an emphatic nod. "Yes, Seina is a beautiful name. I'm sure she'll love it!"

Seina just stared, unable to believe what just happened. The crowd broke into more laughter and cheers, and the vampire king gave a nod of approval.

"Silly child," Lothaire said. "Haven't you listened to my teachings? In this world, it's kill or be killed. Love is only a weakness. Your parents were right to sacrifice you."

"Yep, sorry dear, but he's right!" Her father said, nodding in agreement. "You should have known."

"Hopefully, the new Seina will be smarter." Her mother added.

"Bring out the weapons. This should be entertaining." Lothaire said.

"What?" The shock of her parents' betrayal still hadn't left her. Seina had trouble adjusting to the concept that they expected her to fight for life. "But I'm only a ten-year-old girl!"

Dreven smirked and shrugged. "Them's the breaks, kid." From the audience's expression, they would enjoy seeing her torn limb from limb. The humans, except her parents, looked away, not wishing to watch Seina's gruesome fate.

A vampire pulled a wide variety of weapons into the fighter's pit. They ranged from swords to guns. None looked light enough for a ten-year-old to wield. Seina broke into tears, beyond terrified, unable to even stand straight. She didn't want to die. How could this happen?

With an exaggerated swagger, Dreven walked over to the weapon rack and withdrew a sword larger than Seina's entire body. With his vampiric strength, it seemed like a toy in his hands.

Since fighting back was pointless, Seina closed her eyes, preparing for the end. She prayed it wouldn't be too painful.

"Please don't cry! Be strong!" A kind voice said, wiping the tears from her eyes.

Seina blinked through watery eyes, looking towards the kind stranger who comforted her in her final moments. She gasped in shock when she got a good look at them.

"You should be ashamed of yourselves, you jerks! You're the worst of the worst!" The strange creature said, berating the vampire horde.

Her rescuer was the purest white she'd ever seen. His head was bulbous, larger than his torso. The face somewhat resembled a cat, but with longer ears. Puffs of fur popped out from his enormous ears. Somehow, tiny wings supported the creature's weight, allowing him to fly around. He was also the cutest thing Seina had ever seen.

"What are you?" Seina asked in amazement, wondering if she was dreaming, or if the recent events had shattered her sanity.

"My name's Colten. And I refuse to allow this farce to continue any further!" The cat creature puffed out his chest.

"And what are you supposed to be?" Dreven said, pointing his enormous sword at the intruder.

"Um, just a fairy here to help." Despite his obvious fear, Colten refused to back down.

"A creature of good?" Lothaire snorted in derision. "How ridiculous. Another fool rushing to their death."

"He's right! You'll only get yourself killed!" Seina refused to allow someone else to die for her sake.

"No way!" Colten shook his enormous head only to scream in pain a few seconds later as Dreven struck him with the blunt edge of his enormous sword.

"Colten!" Seina rushed to her fallen friend's side. Thankfully, he only seemed bruised and not dead. A wing looked damaged, though. It seemed unlikely he could fly anytime soon.

"How adorable. Wanting to die together, I see." Dreven turned towards the announcer. "Hey, is it alright if the fairy joins the girl's side?"

The announcer gave a thumbs up. "Sounds like a plan!"

"Looks like we're in this together." Colten gave Seina a weak smile as she cradled him in her arms.

"Yeah." Tears dropped onto Colten's little head as Seina broke down.

She'd just made a friend, and he was now dying for her sake. Seina hugged him, holding him tight and began sobbing. The vampire crowd broke into mocking laughter, enjoying seeing this helpless girl suffer. Seina didn't care or even notice, focusing on her new friend instead. She supposed at least she wouldn't die alone. Seina held one of the fairy's legs as they waited for the end. Somehow, despite everything, some happiness bloomed in her heart. Seina was glad she'd met someone as wonderful as Colten.

"You're lucky, little girl. Two on one is much fairer odds." The vampire warrior broke into uproarious laughter. "Start the round already. I'm ready for some carnage!"

_This is it. _Seina cried out in pain and surprise as bright light blinded her, almost dropping Colten. The light faded, leaving a very confused Seina.

"What was that?"

"No way!" Colten said.

"What is it?" Colten's expression surprised Seina. Was that hope on his tiny face?

"Look down!" Colten pointed towards a strange object that hadn't been there before. Seina grabbed it without even thinking, turning it around in her hand. It was a pink-colored diamond-encrusted brooch.

"It's so pretty." Seina had seen nothing so beautiful in her life. It made the splendor the vampire lord surrounded himself with seem dull in comparison.

"You're a magical girl, Seina? I don't believe it! I'd thought only a special few could become one!" Colten was ranting, speaking at speeds almost impossible to understand. "This is amazing, spectacular!"

"What? Magical girl? What are you talking about?"

The tiny fairy's expression turned smug. "It means we can wipe the floor with these vampire creeps!"

Dreven snorted in derision. "Really?"

"I'm not following." Seina was beyond lost. How could a brooch allow her to fight? Blind the vampire to death?

"Hold you brooch up into the air and yell, Change Change, Magical Love Dress Up!"

"Okay." While certain it would make her appear ridiculous, she'd try anything at this point.

Seina stood up and gave Dreven a determined glare. She sent another one towards the vampire king himself. If this gave her power, she'd put an end to this nightmare herself. "Change Change, Magical Love Dress Up!"

Bright light engulfed Seina, and her entire body glowed a transparent blue. In a flash, everything about her body changed. Her short black hair extended into two long, luxurious braids. The bland rags she wore transformed into a pink frilly dress with a short skirt. The elaborate new costume gave Seina the vague impression of the long-dead lotus flower she'd seen in old books. A large yellow bow was across her chest, and her brooch stood in its center.

Colten laughed. "I knew it! You are a magical girl!"

"Huh?" Seina blinked and looked down at herself, both amazed and baffled.

"That's the terrible power that will destroy us all?" Dreven broke into mocking laughter, and the other vampires joined him. Lothaire chuckled, sipping at his wine. His wife only looked confused.

"That was disappointing. I was hoping for something more exciting!" Seina's mom pipped it.

"How am I meant to fight with this?" Seina gestured to herself. Except for her new pretty outfit, she didn't feel any different. How could a simple dress protect her from bloodthirsty monsters?

"What do you mean? You can totally floor him now!" Colten argued back with far more confidence than she felt. "Hold out your hand and focus. You can summon your special weapon that way."

_A special weapon! That might change this situation around! _Seina did as instructed, and a long staff appeared in her hand. Attached to its end, was a bubble blower?

Dreven snorted. "That's your great weapon?"

"Yeah! What the heck!" This magical girl deal was a rip-off!

"Well, with that mighty weapon, I better switch to something more dangerous." Dreven threw aside his sword and withdrew a pistol from the weapon rack. "Start the fight already. I'm curious what this magical girl can do."

"Don't worry, you got this," Colten said with the utmost confidence.

"What are you talking about! I have a bubble blower, and he's got a freaking gun! This isn't even remotely fair!"

"Alright. The battle will begin..." Before the announcer could finish his pronouncement, the sound of the gunshot echoed through the stadium, and Seina toppled over.

"What?" Colten said in shocked outrage. "You can't do that!"

"I'm a vampire. I don't fight fair," Dreven replied, and the crowd broke into mocking laughter. They berated the magical girl who believed anyone could defeat the ruthless, unstoppable vampires.

"Seems the fight's over with, folks! The winner is Dreven!" The announcer said, not caring about the vampire warrior breaking the rules.

"Um, actually I'm fine!" Seina stood up, shaking the dust from her dress. "It just startled me."

Much to her amazement, the bullet hadn't even scratched her skin despite striking her right in the forehead. It amused her to see the vampires shocked at her survival. Maybe victory wasn't impossible after all?

Dreven, however, didn't seem that impressed. "You survived, so what? A vampire can survive much worse." He threw away his gun and took back his sword. Without waiting for the announcer to begin the fight, he charged forward with blinding speed, sword raised to sever his opponent's head.

The colosseum's roof exploded as Dreven crashed through it, exposing the building to the chilly night air. Vampires screamed in fear and surprise as pieces of the roof collapsed on top of them. Seina stared at her extended arm in amazement.

"Wow." Seina couldn't believe her strength. She could have sworn she'd only tapped the vampire.

"Um, Seina. Your bubble blower is meant for casting spells, not a blunt weapon." Colten said. "But that works too I guess."

"Oops." Seina blushed with embarrassment.

"She won." Lilha, the vampire queen, said in the dead shocked silence.

"She has some power, I suppose." Lothaire didn't seem too impressed despite Seina's astounding display of strength.

A strange thought popped into her head. "Does this mean I win? The announcer didn't actually start the fight."

"I guess so. Congratulations!" Colten patted her on the leg.

"I'm not finished yet!" Dreven tossed people out of his path as he stomped back towards the fighting pit. The vampire warrior was soaking wet and pieces of seaweed latched to his body. Had Seina knocked him to the ocean? That was miles away.

"Oh, you're back. Ready for another butt-kicking?" Colten said. Seina nodded, not sure why the vampire had returned after she'd beaten him with little difficulty.

Dreven broke into a disturbingly wide smile. His grin stretched out unnaturally, cackling while doing so. "Foolish girl. You think you can beat me?"

The vampire warrior extended a hand and drove it into his chest. Much to Seina's horror and shock, he withdrew something red and beating. Had Dreven just torn out his own heart? Clenching his fist, he crushed it. Gore and blood oozed down his hand. Dreven's grin extended as the hole he'd torn into his chest vanished like it never existed.

"I'm not like other vampires. Destroying my heart can't kill me. Nothing can! As long as a single atom of my body exists, I can't die!"

"Okay, but was that really necessary?" Seina's stomach felt queasy, horrified by the display. He could have just told her.

The vampires in the crowd broke into mocking, jeering laughter. They sent praises towards their champion and insults towards his magical girl opponent. Lothaire gave them a tilt of his head in respect.

"Hold on!" An irritating realization struck Seina. "Why are you fighting in a colosseum if you literally can't die? That doesn't seem fair at all!"

"We've vampires, kiddo. We don't play fair." Dreven said in a purr.

"No, you're just being a jerk," Colten replied.

"So, shall we begin our game again?" Dreven withdrew a nasty-looking rusty spiked mace from the weapon's rack.

Seina, however, was unimpressed. Already, she'd grown tired of the vampire's nonsense. An idea popped into her head, and her lips curled into a small smile. Yes, that would solve her problem nicely.

"Ha! You'll find Seina not so easy to beat!" Colten said. "Use your magical bubble blower to finish this fool!"

"I can't agree more." Seina walked up to her opponent, who watched her in bemusement. She gripped her staff tight, adjusted her aim, and swung with all her strength. Dreven screamed in pain and terror as the magical girl launched his body high into the air, flying the hole in the ceiling. Seina watched as the vampire flew higher into the sky, bursting a hole through the smoke cover and disappearing into the starry night sky.

"There, he won't cause anyone any more trouble!" Seina said, proud of herself. "If he can heal himself forever, fine. But that doesn't matter if he's stuck floating in space!" It amazed her that the plan worked. Just how powerful was she now? The entire audience broke into another stunned silence.

"Seina, that isn't what I mean at all," Colten said.

"Sorry?"

"I meant for you to use your magical powers to obliterate him."

"I can do that?" Seina blushed with embarrassment.

"Yes, you're a magical girl. It's in the name." Colten sighed, then shrugged. "Well I guess a victory's a victory." A clap interrupted their conversation.

"Very amusing," Lothaire said, standing from his throne. "It appears you have some power."

"Lord Lothaire, are you going to face this child?" The vampire lord's wife asked. "Surely it's beneath you. Let me handle her. I'd love to punish a misbehaving child."

"No, this girl represents something that I can't allow to stand. The pathetic scum down there must learn that no such thing remains." Lothaire gestured to the humans, watching the scene. Seina saw what the vampire lord meant. They stared at Seina with awe, their eyes sparkling with an emotion she'd rarely seen in her short life. It created a strange bubbling feeling in her stomach.

"It looks like we're fighting the big boss guy now," Colten said. "Good, that saves time."

"Understand this, child," Lothaire said. "Dreven was the weakest of our number. A vampire of lesser capabilities. I won't be such an easy opponent."

Seina gulped and her hand trembled, not doubting the vampire king's pronouncement for a moment. When humanity fought against him, no weapon could stop him. Even a barrage of nuclear weapons had proven useless. Rumors whispered that his vampiric power made him invincible.

"Smart girl. You understand the trouble you're in. You won't even lay a hand on my husband." Lilha said. "You will die, not even realizing it until it is too late."

Lord Lothaire stared down at his opponent. His expression was unreadable, but his confidence was undeniable.

"Did you know, no weapon has ever even touched Lord Lothaire?" Lilha said, continuing her boast. "They can't. He has utter mastery of eternity."

Colten, however, seemed unperturbed. "So what? Seina will kick his pointy teeth in."

"Understand this, little fairy," Lilha said, her tone superior. "My husband's power allows him to control time. Any timeline he doesn't care for, he discards like trash."

"Time control?" Alarm had crept into Colten's face. Seina's hand trembled, realizing how much trouble they were in. What a fool she'd been thinking anyone could defeat the masters.

"He sifts through the possibilities until the one he desires comes into fruition." Lilha extended a hand, gesturing to everything around her. "Nothing ever happens unless Lord Lothaire wills it!"

Seina put her hands into her face. With some difficulty, she fought back tears, refusing to cry again in front of these monsters. So much for hope. Fate had a twisted sense of humor.

"That's not good." While Colten's confidence had faded somewhat, he continued putting up a brave face.

The entire crowd of vampires broke into applause, and Lilha soaked in their admiration. Lothaire continued to stay where he stood, impassive.

"Give us a good show, magical girl. It should be quite entertaining. Wouldn't you agree, my husband?"

Lothaire continued to stay where he stood, unresponsive. Seina blinked in confusion. Why was he just standing there, motionless? Why wasn't he bragging and jeering, as usual?

"Husband?" Lilha asked in concern.

Lothaire's body jerked uncontrollably, foam gathering around his mouth. He stumbled forward, each step clumsy and awkward. With a strangled gurgle, the vampire king toppled forwards, landing in the fighter's pit. His body jerked several more times before stopping to a halt. Dead.

"No, has he overused his power?" Lilha's voice barely rose above a whisper. Her eyes were wide in horror and disbelief.

Siena blinked. "Eh?”

[pandawritesmanythings]

Old v. New (Killer Circus//Original Story)

Summary: How the Killer Circus story came to be and turned into what I'm trying to write now.

Word Count: 1188

A/N: I know this is not a fic, but until I can get my writing juices flowing, this is what I can do. I'm sorry 😭😥

My original idea, or concept was quite different from the story it now is. Both deal with escaping a situation that has you trapped or hasn't allowed you to do the things you wish for, and also readjusting to life to pursue your dreams once you leave that situation. 

However, the initial concept was; if you compare it to what the Killer Circus story is today, way more bloody, gritty and violent.

Here's how I would briefly summarize the initial concept:

A group of children is chosen. The reason for their choosing seems honorable. Afterall, they have had to train since the moment they could walk for this. Now, every year, a seven year old is chosen to join the KC. A colorful group of people who walk the streets in parades through cities, bringing joy to the inhabitants of the place.

However, a dark truth is hidden from the parents. A truth that the children are led to believe that it is okay for them to do. Afterall, they've trained since they can walk for this. They are assasins.

The story was supposed to showcase the dangers of leading a child to believe that killing people at such an early age is brutal for their mental state. However, I initially wrote the concept in a dark time of my life, so after finding help with my own issues I decided I didn't like the concept anymore.

I loved the characters though. And that was because I designed Princeps, the main character, based on me and Paraclitus, her right hand gal, on my sister. It was basically us in colorful costumes. Nothing too spectacular. 

The name Princeps is just a translation of the word Leader to Latin. It seemed fitting since in the original concept, she was supposed to be the oldest and the one who led the other assassin kids.

However, as I kept looking for a more fitting concept, I came to the realization of, "Hey! They look like they belong in a circus!" 

So there's where the concept began to shift.

Then I asked myself. "Why would they put kids in a circus?"

And I answered that question. Of course, I'm not going to reveal why because that's an important plot point.

Then, "Which specific kids get to be in there?" Or "Why those kids?" And I answered that question.

"Who leads the place?" "How do they get fed?" "It's a circus so do they have animals?" "Who watches over them? Wouldn't they need someone to supervise them?" "How do they convince them not to leave?" "Do they get educated, if so, how? And what do they learn? Is there anything they can't read or learn?" "Could they breakout if they wanted? How?" "What psychological repercussions would this have on them?"

And then it hit me.

This book could be about anything I wanted. And psychology, and mental health was do important to me at the moment that I decided:

I wanna make a book that accurately portrays anxiety, depression and othe mental illnesses. I wanna have introverts and extroverts interacting. What it's like to deal with something like bulimia or anorexia. What happens when you suffer traumatic events, and how to recover from them. I wanted to give a voice to those who had suffered through any of those things. Even if I never had been through any of those myself.

But I had one problem. I needed a catalyst.

A person sometimes won't be able to escape a bad situation unless someone wakes them up to their reality. 

Once I came to that conclusion I stumbled upon some drawings and a piece of writing that I did just after arriving to The States. It dealt with human experimentation, mixing animal DNA with a human.

And then I knew that this could perfectly fit with my idea.

There already is a huge facility, dressed up as a circus, doing something to a bunch of kids and young adults. Why would there be another one that experimented on another way with them.

This is not a big spoiler, so I can safely say it.

The Orphanage, the experimentation facility, is experimenting with kids to make more efficient soldiers. Imagine a Captain America situation, but darker. They are trying to enhance soldiers. But of course, they can't just use their loyal soldiers, in case something goes wrong. So what do they use? 

The term, orphanage, may hint you on who they use.

Most of them don't surpass the age of 18. And the thing is that, after they turn 18, they are sent away. They are adults, so the doctor and scientists can't risk a rebellion of capable and enhanced adults.

Their mistake? Kids are actually pretty darn smart. So through lots of planning one of them escapes The Orphanage and after walking for a couple of days, with a team hot on his heels, he finds a weird oak that is growing twisted in a fence. It looks really weird, but somehow it still is alive. He climbs it to hide from the team, and accidentally falls on the other side of the fence. 

He is surprised that even though it seemed like outside the fence was bordering nothing, he now sees a bunch of buildings. He heads for the bigger structure and some of the kids in The Facility find him. They lock him in a room and bring Princeps to him. 

The rest of the story? 

He tells them that there is more world out there, that he is seeking it, and they should too. He stays for a bit and helps them uncover some of the reasons as to why The Facility exists and why should they get out, and once he leaves Princeps finds the strength to say, let's get outta here.

Once they are out, however, life smacks them in the face. And all by herself, she finds herself in The Orphanage, her cell right in front where the boy who had escaped is. He got captured and he seemed to have been severely beaten.

After discovering more about the place where they were, she and her new friends find a way to bust out and this time, make it to society, with the help of a doctor who knew that what she was doing was wrong, but had no way out.

Once out, the seek asylum in a hospital until they can figure out how to deal with the world, and how to adjust to a society that hates them for very complicated reasons.

Oof, I just told the whole story. It sounds interesting in paper, but I really wanna dive into the nuances as to why all of this happened. Something that, I can't really tell you guys 'cuz it would fall into spoiler territory.

This is the spine of the story, but everything else are things that I can only show y'all when I finish my story.

What are your thoughts on this original story? Please let me know! Do you think the original idea was better? Or do you like more where this one is going?

[warlockwriter]

Fanfic Review: All the Difference

Author: @ihaveallthesefeelsokay

Rating: Mature

Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Category: F/M

Fandom: Jericho (US 2006)

Relationship: Bill Koehler/Original Female Character

Additional Tags: Romance, Fluff, Mental Health Issues, Additional Warnings in Chapter Notes if Needed

Summary: Bill Koehler is a sheriff's deputy in Jericho. While he has friends and a good job, there's something missing from his life. However, even if he found someone to love, would his panic attacks drive her off?

Sarah Morgan is freshly arrived in Jericho, looking to assuage the depression that has followed her like a plague. She's convinced she will never find a stable life and as for love? Probably not for her.

This is a story about two damaged people who manage to find love and hold onto it in spite of everything stacked against them.

A Bill/OFC fic because Bill needs some lovin' too.

I might be biased about this story, but I’m going to review it anyway. I say I might be biased because I have been the beta reader for this series for exactly three months today. I have been saving this review until the series was completed, which also happened today. While the review is titled for the first story in the series, this review applies to the whole darned thing. All 320K+ words of it.

A tiny bit of backstory on my history, which will illustrate why I lov this story so much. I started writing fanfiction a very long time ago. In those days Original Characters WERE NOT DONE. Caps are required to get across how not done they were. (Side note: because I am a rebel, I created two original characters in those days who were so popular readers demanded sequels. Take that stupid traditions!)

I have been so pleased that the “not doneness” of original characters has subsided greatly. However, they do tend to not be as popular as canon characters, so I admire authors who write them anyway. Not to mention authors who stick to them for so many words and then go make me fall in love with them. I have been living with Bill and Sarah for so long that they have almost become like family to me, and I am very sorry to see the series come to an end.

So, if you’re getting the impression that these stories are well written, you’d be right. The Summary covers the basics. Yes, it’s a love story, but it’s so much more than that. The Prequel is set before the events in Jericho and is perfectly readable without having seen the show. (I’m speaking from experience here. I think I had seen two episodes before I started reading, and I had no trouble following it. Nor did it spoil the series.)

Part 1 is a good romance which follows lots of typical tropes. I don’t say that as a criticism. Tropes are there for a reason, and this one has the additional dramatic tension of two characters dealing with mental illness and its effect on their relationship. The mental illness is sensitively handled and adds to the plot without taking over. As a beta reader, I occasionally encouraged the author to add a bit more of it in places. (Why, no. I don’t go for Bill h/c. Not at all!)

Part 2 covers the events of the Jericho show, and is, to a large extent a retelling of the show, but with LOTS more Bill. Here’s another reviewer confession. I generally will not read stories which are rehashes of canon episodes. However, I devoured this part. It does draw from canon and uses some dialogue and scenes from the show but still feels fresh and cohesive. Did I mention that it has A LOT more Bill? ‘Nuff said.

Then there is Part 3. If you’d told me I would have eagerly anticipated and read each and every part of what is basically a slice of life story, I would have laughed at you and said, “Not a chance.” However, by the time you get to Part 3, you’re so invested in the characters that you want to keep going. It doesn’t hurt that the beginning of Part 3 continues the storyline from the series end and, in my opinion, does it justice. If you’ve finished Jericho and felt the ending was a bit lacking, read Part 3. You’ll get the resolution you wanted. Plus an AWESOME tactical artillery battle which I may have had some part in rewriting.

Fair warning. After well over 300K words, you’re going to be invested in Bill, Sarah and their entire extended family, which includes children and several grandchildren. And yes, the story does end with Bill and Sarah’s death. (No that’s not a spoiler. You see it coming miles away.) I rarely cry at fanfics, and I’m tearing up now as I write this. I read those final scenes just a few hours ago, and they are still painfully fresh. But it’s worth it. Trust me.

So, I might be biased because I was the beta reader. I’m probably also biased because the author has become a close friend (and my beta reader) in the three months we’ve known each other. But I wouldn’t review this if I didn’t love it and think you all should read it.

Thanks, babe, for such a great ride.

And yes, an author interview!

[desolate-rose]

Chapter 10 the outside world part 2

I had known that there would be consequences for my actions.

I had known, and yet it still hurt.

Daddy always said- my first dad used to say I was too sensitive.

My mind was in a contradictory state of slow molasses sadness and vibrating lightning anxiety.

I knew I shouldn't have made myself stand out. I was so dumb. I'm a giant idiot who has no control over her impulses and can't think her way out of a paper bag.

Why did I have to be so stupid and go do some thing dumb like read way before most children could string a full story together.

God why did I think this was a good idea I should have just-

"Little bird? What are you doing down there?" A lyrical voice broke through my thoughts as my mother crouched down to look at me.

I scrambled to sit up straight and wipe my face, accidentally bumping my head on the stone above me and sending a fresh wave of pain induced tears.

Shortly after I turned two, I was moved out of my first nursery by my parents' rooms into a suite of my own, it was almost identical in structure to the original game Zelda's room, which in retrospect was to be expected but at the time surprised me. But more importantly, the suite had a spiral staircase leading up to the second level the underside of which made the perfect hiding spot for someone as small as me. I just had to crawl to the back where it was so small that no adult could reasonably reach. I had gathered up my blankets and hidden back here when Dottie had set me down for a nap, not expecting anyone to be able to bother me.

Yet here, only a few feet in front of me, was my mother. She had somehow managed to shimmy her way around until she could almost reach me.

"H- h- how did you f- find me?" I hiccuped through my tears, trying to compose myself. It wasn't that big of a deal. I had just been stupid and hadn't thought things through. I was being stupid, and I knew there were going to be consequence.

I furiously swiped at my tears, stupid toddler body! Couldn't withstand the slightest pain or emotion without crying.

My mother scooted herself a few inches closer before reaching out for me. "Dottie told me you had a rough day today," she soothed sympathetically. I sniffed pathetically trying to pull myself together, "It's nothing." I mumbled petulantly, still sounding far too weepy. "I'm being dumb."

My mother had finally gotten close enough to reach me and grabbed me to pull me into as much of a hug as she could give me laying flat on her stomach trying to avoid hitting her head on the stairs.

"Oh baby, you're not being stupid at all! It's perfectly normal to be upset when someone says something mean about you!" she snuggled me further, pulling me closer. "Besides what do those stupid solders know! They're just jealous that they're not as smart as my little genius!" Her voice went up in pitch and she rubbed her nose against mine making me give a little hiccuping giggle.

"You dont think I'm weird?" I slapped my hands up to cover my mouth. I hadn't meant to say that. I shouldn't have-

"No!" she replied firmly. "And if any one says differently, Mommy will break their faces!"

I couldn't help but laugh at that, my new mom always had a way to calm me down. A silly little grin came to my face at the idea of my beautiful delicate mother beating up the two bulky soldiers from before. "Really?" I couldn't help but ask.

"Of course! If someone messes with my baby, I'll bite them" she snapped her teeth playfully at me, before standing up with me in her arms.

I squeaked in surprise, at some point during the conversation she had managed to squirm from underneath the stairs with me caught in her grasp.

"I know just what will cheer you up! How about you go with mommy and daddy on a little adventure?"

"An adventure?" I couldn't help but ask, curious despite myself. "Yup!" she popped the P, sounding excited.

"Your father and I have been working too hard lately. I think a little excursion out of the castle is just what this family needs."

"Outside!" I gasped, I had never really been outside the castle before. It had been too dangerous to take the baby princess outside the safety of the castle walls. Besides what reason would I have for going outside?

"Yes little bird! Outside! How about we have a little picnic?" mother hummed striding out of my room and down the hall toward her office.

Again i rushed to straighten myself up, my face was probably puffy and red and my clothes were all rumpled from how i was curled up "Mommy i don't look…" What's the word for presentable in Hylian "...nice?" Darn toddler vocabulary.

"My little bird always looks nice." "Moooommmyyyy," i whined trying to rub the tears from my eyes. "hush baby no ones going to care if you look a little messy and if they do I'll set them straight." I harrumphed grumpily. People already think I'm weird, I don't need them thinking I'm messy too. "It'll be fine little one, you worry too much."

"Illa!" Mother slammed the door to her office open. "Yes my queen" granny didn't even glance at my mom. "We are going to go out today."

granny finally looked up from her paperwork, her clever eyes quickly darting first to assess my mother then myself. before smoothly sorting her papers and rising to her feet. "Yes my lady, where would you be wanting to go?" mother glanced out the window, "Today's weather would be perfect for a picnic in hyrule fields." Granny hummed, "I will have the kitchens make you a basket, and alert the appropriate people of the change of schedule, might I suggest the area just south of the sacred grounds? The view of the plateau is lovely."

Granny paused in her preparations. "Will your husband be joining us?" "yes could you send him an invitation to join us?" Granny nodded sharply. "Of course my queen, I will have everything sorted shortly, would you like me to call Dahlia to change Zelda into some more appropriate clothing?"

Dahlia? Oh wait, that's Dottie's real name right?

"It's ok, you can have her collect the basket from the kitchen. I'll change Zelda."

Everything was happening way too fast. Before I knew it, everything was collected and a party my mom, my dad, dottie, granny, and at least 5 guards had all gathered at the stables to set off for our picnic.

Now the thing people don't get about horses is how big they are. Conceptually, people are aware that horses are big, sure, but there is a big difference between knowing horses are big, and seeing this 840-2200 pound monstrosity and having the top of your head barely line up with the lowest point of their back. Now imagine that for a three year old.

I eyed the creature warily.

I'm barely 31 pounds soaking wet and 2 feet at my tallest. this thing is 3 times my size.

Now I like horses. I had even taken a few riding lessons in my last life, but right now?

I am far too squishy and small to get within stepping range. it could squish me like an ant.

I tugged on my mom's skirts, never taking my eyes of the monster casually munching on some hay. (it was the same colour as my hair would it be tempted to eat me?!) "Mama can walk to the pic- pic-" Ugh, words. "Outside food instead."

"Aww is my little bird scared of the nice horsey?" I tried to give her a deadpan look. it didn't work from the way my dad was attempting to hide his smile, curse my cute chubby baby cheeks! "it could fit my entire arm in its mouth." dottie muffled a snicker from somewhere behind me. I generously decided to ignore her.

"Don't worry little bird! carrot is a nice horsey! do you want to feed him!" "didn't i just say he could eat my entire arm? why would i put it anywhere near him?" my voice was rising toward the shrill range but that wasn't important.

Ignoring my protests, Mother scooped me up and held me out toward the horse like some sort of sacrificial offering. Do horses eat hylians in zelda? "why don't you give him a pat!" so this is how i die again isn't it? death by getting eaten by a herbivore, at least ill get the hylian equivalent of the darwin award.

Hesitantly I raised my pudgy baby fist, (it was packed fat and would be very nutritious) and gently, GENTLY, patted the top of his head before quickly drawing my hand bracing for a snap of teeth. the animal's ear barely flinched as he continued eating regardless of the weird creatures around him.

Well now I feel silly.

"He's not bad… i guess." I allowed graciously. I was a big girl, I could admit when I was wrong.

"Great let's get going then!"

Wait what!

I squeaked in alarm as suddenly I was on top of the horse with my mother's arms holding me steady.

I tried to hold myself as still as possible while mentally hyperventilating.

What I wouldn't give for a seat belt! The only thing keeping me from falling to my humiliating death where my mother's thighs and the single hand that held me to her stomach.

I could finally look the rest of the contingent in the eye at my height but that wasn't worth the danger I was facing. My estimation for hylian parenting is steadily sinking as no one offers any protest to my mothers actions beyond mounting their own horses.

Mother was going to have to seriously bribe me to make up for this travesty to responsible adult behaviour.

As I stared, open-mouthed, at the cheerful colourful fantasy medieval city surrounding my home, I magnanimously decided to forgive my mother for her lacklustre care of my person.

Castle Town, (yes that was its name- silly i know.) was a bustling trade centre filled with diverse peoples. And I do mean diverse; there were the elf-like hylians, the exaggeratedly feminine Gerudo, a bird-like race I was guessing were the Rito, the rock-like Gorons, and the aquatic fish people I think were the Zora.

I was honestly stunned stupid by all these differing peoples who lived and worked in castle town, quite a few of which had gathered along the side of the road to watch the mini parade that was following my family. I had known, theoretically, that the Hylians and Gerudo weren't the only peoples in hyrule but I wasn't prepared for how inhuman these other races looked. I wasn't human now. I knew that, but Hylians had still looked human ENOUGH for me to ignore it most of the time. Besides the ears, eyes, anatomy, and clear skin Hylians looked human. Gerudo were similar in that they were mostly human looking beside the features they shared with Hylians and their exaggeratedly feminine physique.

But the other races?

I could not pretend the Rito, the Zora, or the Gorons were human.

The Rito were the most human in the end, looking like what a human would look like if we had evolved from birds instead of apes. beaks instead of lips or noses, wings in place of arms, claws instead of feet, an odd mixture of feathers covering the majority of their body and hair on the back of their head.

The Zora were equally if not more odd, their torsos were longer then their legs, gills along their ribs, a embarrassing lack of covering clothing and a more confounding lack of lower anatomy. odd fish/shark looking things on top of their heads with fins and tails falling on the sides and back of their heads the base of which replaced their noses. as one Zora called out a cheerful greeting to the small royal precession i caught a glimpse of startlingly sharp teeth.

The Gorons didn't even look vaguely human. they were literally living borders with heads and limbs!

Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore.

"Having fun little bird?" My mother chuckled, still holding me firm to her.

I nodded dumbly, eyes caught on a particularly colourful Rito who had jumped to fly over a trio of baby Gorons who were rolling away from their frustrated caretaker.

"There are so many different peoples." I breathed, stunned by the sheer diversity of my new home.

"Isn't it beautiful?" My mother murmured in my ear, swinging a soft gaze from a laughing hylian couple to a pair of Rito and Gerudo furiously arguing over the price of fish. "Zelda this is what I- what WE work for." And as I looked up from her shade, she seemed to be illuminated by the noontime sun. "My little princess, one day you're going to be queen, and you're going to be responsible for all of this." She gestured outward with one hand the other holding me firm. "For all of them."

And as the corona of light illuminated her face, I was spellbound. So this is what charisma looks like. so this is what a leader- a QUEEN looked like. new resolution bubbled in my soul, coursing through my very bones like lightning and warming my spirit with the blazing fires of resolve.

I WAS going to help my mother.

I WAS going to learn sealing magic.

I WAS going to save my people.

By the time the burning vigour had faded from my veins we had arrived at our destination, and were in the process of unloading and setting up for the single fanciest picnic I had ever seen. While the location- a large field at the edge of a small forested glen with a platform in the middle- was pretty and semi appropriate for a picnic, the picnic itself was in simple terms, ridiculous.

Dottie had laid down a ridiculously expensive looking blanket made out of what looked like silk with beautifully embroidered birds and flowers. Granny had placed the fanciest looking basket down and pulled out a tiered silver serving platter with tiny fancy little sandwiches and desserts. Three of the soldiers had set off to clear the perimeter, another was handling the horses and the last soldier was standing alert next to the far too fancy set up weary eyes scanning for threats.

This was… was this even a picnic even more? I thought picnics were supposed to be simple?

Hmm yea no I don't want to be looking at this any more.

"Mama can I go play in the… trees? I've never been in trees before!" Is there a hylian word for forest?

"The forest sweetie?"

"Yea that."

"I don't know…" Mother glanced worriedly at granny and father "Aren't you hungry little bird?"

"Not yet mommy but if i play then I'll be hungry. I'm always hungry after I play!" I looked pleadingly at her before she sighed and gave in.

"Ok little one, but stay within the trees and don't wander too far." she fretted looking nervous. i mentally rolled my eyes, moms can be so overprotective.

"Anderson." my father barked, startling me and catching the attention of the soldier tending to the horses.

"Yes sir." He snapped to attention, poster perfect.

"You guard the princess. Zelda, stay within eyesight of the guard alright." my mother sighed relieved, smiling at father while the soldier answered in an affirmative. I take that back, dads can be so overprotective.

"Yes Daddy. Come on Mr. Soldier Man, the forest isn't going to explore itself!" I commanded eyes firmly set on getting away from my overbearing parents.

The forest was beautiful.

The air was clean, the birds were singing, and the only disturbance in my serenity was the clanking of the solder trailing behind me scaring off all of the little creatures.

I glanced back and hummed, he did look pretty menacing, hmmmmm.

I plopped myself down in the grass and started picking small wild flowers. perhaps a daisy chain will soften his menace?

"Princess?" The soldier queried worriedly. "Are you tired? Do you want me to carry you back to your parents?"

I shook my head in the negative "Nope! Im gonna play in the flowers? You want to join me?" I aimed my puppy dog eyes in his direction. Hopefully he would sit and stop clanking so the birds would come back.

"Ummm, princess i don't know if-" i ignored his hesitism turning up my pout. "Pleeeeeaaaaaasssssseeeeeee?" I whined. Please sit so I don't have to listen to you creak like a rusty door hinge.

He let out a helpless sigh before flopping onto the ground metal clanking and clanging, scaring the few remaining birds away and crushing some of the flowers she was planning on using. Ugh, thanks for that.

"I'm going to go pick some more flowers, hold my work for me." I dumped my half way finished flower crown in his lap. "Princess?"

"Stay here I'll be right back."

"Princess!" He yelped trying to straighten himself out caught in his own armor.

"Don't ruin my work!" I called as I hurried off in search of more flowers.

Now usually this would be a dumb move. A small important child wandering away from their caretaker in the middle of the woods! Sounds like the start of a horror story right?

But these woods were about the size of two soccer fields and thin enough that i can still easily see my parents laughing and chatting in the distance.

Flowers, flowers, flowers-... flowers? Flowers! There! Sitting in the roots of a large tree were some pretty bluebell looking flowers. Perfect! As I rushed toward the blue blooms, I noticed something odd out of the corner of my eye. Was that a… rock?

Huh. That was a large grey rock on the top of the trunk of a tree beside the one in which the large flowers were growing. Huh.

It kinda reminds me of...

KOROKS! Those are a thing here!

I spun on my heel to face my new far more interesting quarry. I wonder if I can see koroks?

In the game link was the first to be able to see koroks in over a hundred years. I'm not actually the Zelda but maybe I could see them because I know they exist? Maybe they work by fairy rules? You need to believe to see? I am still a child.

Eh, I'll never know unless I try.

I rolled up my sleeves, kicked off my fancy little toddler shoes and tied my skirt back. Let's see if I can climb this tree.

Huh this actually isn't all that hard. I managed to monkey scramble my way up into the branches and stare curiously at the strangely placed rock ignoring the frantic but hushed calls of the soldier who was supposed to be watching over me. Well I guess…

I huffed, shrugged and heaved to flip the rock over, and in a small explosion of leaves and sparkles suddenly a giggling creature was there.

"You found me!"

I started in bemused awe at the adorable little leaf creature in front of me.

"You can see me! Most people can't see me!" the little creature verbally beamed from behind its little leaf mask.

Huh.

"Well here's a reward for finding me!" The little creature dropped a lightly glowing seed in my lap.

"Usually I would expand the inside of something by a little bit but you don't have any bags or pockets, next time you find a korok make sure to have a bag or pockets ok!" the little leaf continued ignorant of my stunned shock. I did not expect there to actually be a korok.

"Make sure to look for us! We like to be found!" I mean what. Seriously what!

"Bye!" "wait!"

And just like that the little fae was gone.

"Princess where are you!" the solder was sounding a little desperate now, i should probably go back. I carefully stuffed the seed down my shirt and dropped out of the tree straining up.

Now let's give this poor man a break. "Over here! Look at these pretty flowers I found!" I cried, rushed over to the pretty blue flowers I spotted earlier. These flowers would look lovely in my mommy's hair.

"Princess! Don't do that! You scared me nearly half to death!" the solder sighed hurrying to my side. "You nearly gave me a heart attack!" he sighed in relief. "And nearly gave your father a reason to sack me." he muttered his breath, my new elf ears clearly making out his murmured sentiments. "Do you still have my flowers?" "huh? Oh yes here!" he replied handing over my lopsided and slightly mangled flower crown.

Picking the large flowers I used one to quickly tie the flower crown closed, "sorry mr. solder man. i made you a flower crown!" I tried to divert his attention away from my little escape act. "Let me put it on you!"

He was clearly struggling over what to do now, hurt the little princesses feelings by refusing her gift or hurt his pride by wearing a flower crown. "You're gonna look really pretty with it on, i promise!" I wheedled, widening my eyes into an expression of cute expectation.

"Ok princess." he sighed kneeling down to accept his new accessory. Mission success!

With my newly decorated soldier, a handful of pretty flowers in hand, and a mysterious seed down my shirt I decided that this excursion so far had been a resounding success! Now to show the fruits of my labor to my mother.

"Come on Mr. Soldier Man! I want to show my flowers to Mommy." I dashed off, ignoring the yelp the soldier let out as he jumped to follow me.

"Mommy Mommy look what i found!" the small party of my mother and father and their various employees such as dottie granny and another soldier turned their attention to me.

"What did you find baby?" she asked, setting down one of the ridiculously fancy looking little sandwiches.

"I got you some flowers!" I cried practically shoving my quarry at her, Ignoring the smirk the other soldier was giving the poor sap I decorated.

"Oh thank you!" she blessed me with a radiant smile "Oh! You found some blue nightshade!" Wait, I think I remember something like that…

Wasn't it that plant that glowed in the dark and made you sneakier? Oh wow! I found my first magic plant! ( Ignoring the korok and the seed it gave me.)

"I also found a seed!" I enthused, stuffing my hand down my shirt ignoring my father’s sigh and muttering about impropriety. I was three he could deal with it.

"What is that?" my mother murmured staring in bemusement at the softly glowing pod in my hand. Oh good she can see it, I was worried I was going to have to make up some imaginary game to explain away pretending to have a seed.

"It's a seed mommy! Can I plant it in my room?"

"I don't see why not, I'll have Dahlia get you a pot for it when we get home." She scooped me up into her lap, "Now why don't you eat? You’re surely hungry by now."

"Ok Mommy!" I enthused, messily digging into the snacks in front of me, once again ignoring my fathers indulgent sigh.

I'd say today has been a resounding success!

Also on FanFiction.Net! https://m.fanfiction.net/s/13547505/10/

[allisonswrittenwords]

There was once a velveteen rabbit, and in the beginning he was really splendid. He was fat and bunchy, as a rabbit should be; his coat was spotted brown and white, he had real thread whiskers, and his ears were lined with pink sateen.

So opens the story of a toy rabbit whose lofty ambition is to be as Real as he feels he is, and how the boy who loves him believes him to be.

I remember having a copy of The Velveteen Rabbit.  I think I got it for Christmas in second grade.  I even brought it to school one time for a Reading class partner project in sixth grade.  It’s been 25 years, so I don’t remember what the project was.  Something to do with children’s literature.  I’ve always liked the story and the lesson taught by it.  But before I read the story of a stuffed rabbit with dreams, I saw an animated version of the story.  It was a beautifully-told story, probably one of the better kid-lit-turned-animated shorts I’ve seen.  At least, that’s how I remember it being.  Does it still hold up today?

Like last week’s treatment of Rikki-Tikki-Tavi, I’m giving The Velveteen Rabbit the benefit of a long overdue retro rewatch.

All questions will be answered, after rewatching the 1985 animated adaptation of The Velveteen Rabbit!

A Rabbit Gets The Cartoon Treatment

The Velveteen Rabbit is a 1985 animated adaptation of the Margery Williams story of the same name.  It is one of several adaptations of the story, and the second animated version to be made in 1985, the other being a special produced by Hanna-Barbera Australia and airing as an ABC Weekend Special.  The version I saw as a kid was produced by Canadian animation company Atkinson Film-Arts, part of their Cartoon Classics.  The special originally aired on CTV in Canada, and HBO in the United States, and saw home video release in the United States by Family Home Entertainment.

The rabbit is given as a gift to a young boy on his birthday, and taken to the nursery, where the other toys do not believe he belongs. The soldiers, in what will become a subplot of the story, move the Rabbit, who is without fancy windup mechanics and shiny paint, to the other side of the nursery, with the forgotten toys.

The Skin Horse, the oldest toy in the nursery, takes on the care of The Velveteen Rabbit.  The Skin Horse, a toy passed down in the story from the boy’s uncle, had been loved so much that his tail had lost its hair, and his stitches had come loose, but he believed in the beauty of the Velveteen Rabbit, and tells him that you are real if you’re loved.

One night, as a thunderstorm scares the young boy, his Nanny brings him the Velveteen Rabbit to comfort him to sleep.

It works, and the boy and his beloved stuffed rabbit become inseparable.

And as the rabbit begins to feel the kind of Real that comes from being loved, some of the toys in the nursery resent him, especially the soldiers.  Their plan to overthrow the Velveteen Rabbit is foiled by the boy (inadvertently) when he opens the bedroom door and crushes the soldiers against the wall.

It is on that night that the boy proclaims his “old toy” to be “Real,” which is all the Velveteen Rabbit needs to hear to believe it.

The soldiers, in a subplot, continue their efforts to unseat the Velveteen Rabbit as the boy’s favorite toy…despite their growing fondness of the toy.

The rabbits in the forest discover The Velveteen Rabbit, and while they know he’s a rabbit, they question how real he is when he doesn’t respond to them.

It is on the night of the sixteenth (yes, seriously, sixteenth) attempt that not only is their plan foiled, but that the boy becomes ill.

The doctor orders convalescence and isolation for the boy, and the Velveteen Rabbit stays by his side through it all, feeling as real as he ever could be by his young owner’s side.  As the boy recovers, he is to go to the seashore with his family for holiday.

The doctor orders everything in the room – sheets, clothing, and especially the Velveteen Rabbit – be removed from the room and destroyed.

Everything is to be burned in a fire, but when this is being done, the Rabbit drops out of the sack he is placed in, and forgotten about.

And wouldn’t you know it, the soldiers are softies and want to save the Velveteen Rabbit from being burned in the fire.

One night, after longing for the life he had with the boy, and for his friend, the Skin Horse, the Rabbit cries a real tear, which summons a fairy.

The fairy knows that crying a Real Tear makes one real, and will make the rabbit as Real as he believes he is.

The seasons change, and in the spring, the rabbits are near the boy’s home.  He goes outside, and sees a Rabbit which looks very familiar to him, very much like the toy he loved and lost when he was sick.  The Rabbit hasn’t forgotten those times, and the boy wants him to come closer to him.

However, temptation draws the Rabbit away…

And as the narrator says, “only the Skin Horse knew the truth, but then, he had been in the nursery a long, long time.”

Reaction

The story of loving a toy so much that it becomes part of your life and your every step resonates well with anyone.  We’ve all had that one very special toy (or probably many over the years) that we loved, and included in everyday play.  It kept us safe, it stayed with when we needed it the most, and to us, it was real.

There weren’t any fairies that looked like Moon Dreamers dolls, but we could probably pretend play that fairy with those dolls.

Image: YouTube

It’s not just me, right?  You see the resemblance?

As I said, I had the book when I was a kid, I think it was a Christmas present when I was eight years old.  I used it for a partner project in reading class in sixth grade (darned if I know what the project was about).  The home video of this special was released in 1987, and I probably saw it around then.  Seeing the preview on a different Family Home Entertainment video brought back memories of seeing this cartoon.

As for the cartoon itself, it is cute.  The story and dialogue is cute, and the animation is pretty standard for Atkinson Film-Arts, thankfully without ugly-looking Care Bears.  I know I said I didn’t like Atkinson’s efforts with the Care Bears franchise, but I used to watch The Adventures of Teddy Ruxpin as a little kid, and the animation on that series was quite good, and very faithful to the animation in the books.

The story here is slightly different from that of the book – the boy is given the rabbit as a birthday gift, and placed in bed with him during a thunderstorm, not for Christmas, and not in place of a lost toy as in the book.  The toy soldier subplot is obviously meant to pad out the plot, but is funny and does not detract from the actual plot.  I also don’t think the “girl rabbit” infatuation was part of the original story, as The Velveteen Rabbit just goes off with the other rabbits.  The boy still does seem to recognize his familiarity.  That makes the Rabbit feel all the more special.

The Velveteen Rabbit himself is adorable, a cute little sack of a stuffed toy with beautiful button eyes.  The animators stayed faithful to the design of the toy through their own style of animation, and that truly makes this work.

Did I enjoy it?  Absolutely.  It was worth the time.  Like Rikki-Tikki-Tavi, at 24 minutes and change, it is a quick – and adorable watch!

Upload via WØEPD – Rabbit Ears TV

I had mentioned there being another animated version by Hanna-Barbera in 1985. I’m not sure if I’ve ever seen it.  I just watched a few minutes on YouTube, and it doesn’t look familiar.  I’ll give it a shot, but it doesn’t qualify for a “Retro Rewatch.”  I’m betting it is cute and in the vein of Hanna-Barbera, but I’m partial to this version.

And Now, You!

Have you seen this version of The Velveteen Rabbit, or any other version?  I’d love to hear your stories of a toy you loved so much, it was “Real” to you!

I have a few ideas I’m kicking around for Retro Rewatches, the aim is to choose one for next week.

It is a great problem to have ideas and no clue what to write about first, don’t you think?

Have a great day!

      Retro Rewatch: "The Velveteen Rabbit" - The 1985 Atkinson Film-Arts telling of "The Velveteen Rabbit" gets a long-overdue rewatch! There was once a velveteen rabbit, and in the beginning he was really splendid. He was fat and bunchy, as a rabbit should be; his coat was spotted brown and white, he had real thread whiskers, and his ears were lined with pink sateen.

[iluvtv]

Hail Canada Part 2: The Only Thing Better Might Be A Julia Stiles-Athon

First of all, season four of Schitt’s Creek might just be the best one yet. For the past 3 years viewers have delighted as these characters have evolved from shallow, rich and whole heartedly self-centered humans into moderately less shallow, hard working, and occasionally compassionate ones. Through their process of growth we viewers too have evolved, slowly increasing our empathy for their foibles. Each character’s complex idiosyncrasies has become increasingly transparent and  four years after their comfortable lives were upended and they were forced up Schitts Creek, fans can see that they aren’t a family interested in just flailing along without a paddle.

While none of the Rose’s could be accused of executing their development with much grace or confidence they are, nonetheless, all marching forward. Alexis continues to pursue her education, allowing her social ambitions to take a back seat to her long term success. David is accepting his own vulnerability. Moira is clumsily attempting to offer genuine love and support to her friends and family and sweet John is rolling up his sleeves and executing real and actual teamwork. All four members of the Rose family are running their own increasingly successful businesses and all seem reluctantly aware that while squeezing into two bedrooms at a dingy motel is less than ideal, the love that fills their world now has only improved the lives they had while living in opulence.

In fact, (and I only say this because, well...it’s Hanukkah season and the Rose family is so fragrantly Jewish) the clan clearly represents the ancient Jewish narrative: The rug may have been ripped out from under us but through a bit of luck and grit (and of course being able to pass for white) we are able to scratch our way back up to success. 

There is absolutely no way I could do this remarkable season justice in just one blog so do yourself a favor and book a couple hours to get to know this charming family. This seriously is one of the best shows on television.  I literally love every single second of this show but perhaps my favorite story arc of season four was the intricacies of David’s first serious relationship. A squeamish, late blooming gay man who is so clearly new to love is just so darn relatable to my own personality. I can’t help but consider his screen time a bit of accidental humor therapy, if you will. All that being said, please don’t let my narcissism color your opinion of this lovely comedy couple. I’ll let you decide for yourself..

David's personality is best represented by his clear fear of love. His perpetual dramatics coupled with his tremendous mistrust of emotions (both his own and others) make for incredibly finicky antics resulting in a charming, highly relatable character. Particularly to humans  like me, who believe alcohol and drug use (recreational and otherwise) are a logical coping mechanism as opposed to others who believe in such insanity as emoting.

All that being said, the underlying story of season four is the evolution of the Rose's and as such, David's entrance into "real humanity" (beyond that previous silver-spoon reality-show-type existence in which he and his brood once lived) is coming to terms with being a healthy part of a couple.. The comical struggle here is nothing short of perfection. 

I probably could tell you every single amazing line he utters this season but I just won’t and instead here are a few stand out moments, most of which feature just how lovable an emotionally stunted narcissist can actually be. But, in the words of LaVar Burton, “You don’t have to take my word for it...”

To start, how about that time when Patrick comes clean that the kiss he shared with David at the end of season three was his first with a man, David admits that this kiss was a bit of a big deal on his end as well...

"This was first time I kissed someone I respected and thought was nice." 

(Just an FYI in case you were unclear, this is an ADULT man in his 30's!)

Or better yet, when Patrick and Stevie gang up on David for refusing to ever compromise and he points out that just last week he let Patrick choose the movie they watched:

Patrick: "You let me choose between two Sandra Bullock vehicles!"

To which David must assent that he in fact does suck at compromise, "Like Beyonce I excel as a solo artist and I was dressed by my mom well into my teens..." 

No matter, David stands by the fact that toilet plungers at the front of the store is clearly incorrect! (to which I say duh) leading to a tirade from David of everything he hasn’t yet mentioned that Patrick is doing horrible wrong, including his shoes. And while you, a healthy person who has had a few functional relationships may stop me here and say, “Sylv, this is a good time for Patrick to run for the hills,” I shake me head and say this is just the beginning of their true love! “But how?” you ask. Well by way of the put down David also refers to Patrick as his boyfriend. Both men are so thrown by this intentionally rude but also beautifully uninhibited step forward that they make out instead of continuing to argue. 

Now that’s romance!

And then there was that time when in an effort to beef up business at Rose Apothecary Patrick suggests hosting an open mic night. David responds to the very thought just as I would; with fabulous snobbery.

David: "I'm openly ill!"

Patrick insists it will help business and asks what's the worst that could happen? 

David: "The worst case scenario is I watch improv."

When Patrick moves forward with the idea anyhow (while also sharing his plan to perform at said mic) David's attitude shifts from negative to openly panicked. It is in this moment he says what I might argue to be the best line I heard in television in all of 2018: 

Voice dripping of sarcasm he states: "It's not scary or embarrassing to have the person you're dating sing at you with an acoustic guitar in front of people."

His fears are only exacerbated when Patrick reveals he will in fact be performing an original song! 

Yes David, I agree totally gross.

Patrick who is, in fact the perfect boyfriend for a man like David takes this rudeness in stride. “How so?” You ask. Well, continuing to trigger David's (clearly justified) nerves, of course. 

During the actual event David does what any sensible person would do, he drinks all the alcohol and hides in the corner with his mother (it’s easy to fade into the ether next to Moira, a notorious narcissist who fancies herself a famous actress). 

Mommy Dearest commiserates with her son’s crippling fears, "You are awfully brave allowing your beau to indulge like this."

 A woman of action, she offers to pull the fire alarm. And just as things seem to be taking a dark turn Patrick starts to perform and he is so unassumingly, wonderfully talented that the mood immediately shifts. David approaches the front of the crowd trying not to cry and Moira, unusually awed by a performance from someone other than herself, tells the Schitts: "My boy is being serenaded by his butter voiced beau." 

It is a wonderful call for hope (as it pertains to love). A novel idea, sure, but I'll stick with skepticism. Which, bear with me, might not be such a terrible idea as things really come to a head for the Rose children and their emotions in the barbecue episode. 

In what could be construed as a typical midseason trope, we find a complicated love conundrum as  David's struggle to accept requited love and Alexis' attempts to gracefully navigate the unrequited variety inadvertently collide. 

This episode flawlessly exemplifies exactly why opening your heart is just so freaking terrifying. From the terribly embarrassing (but sweet, I guess) enormous cookie frosted with the words “4 Months”, which is delivered to David in front of his entire family (I would probably literally die) to the family barbecue John decides to throw to celebrate his son's longest relationship ever, David’s ability to contain his disgust is bordering on non existent. 

Obviously, he rejects the very thought of the party, "I can't bring Patrick to a group of carnies eating burned meat," he nearly shrieks. To which our wise  matriarch calls out her son's pattern of rejection just as any mother would.

She warns,"You allowed your other relationships to prematurely oxidize because you can't embrace joy.”

That might be some sage motherly advice for us all to ruminate on in the new year. Thanks, Moira!

Anyhow, when David goes to chew out Patrick for the over the top cookie he is dissuaded from his attempts to skip over the very normal “four month anniversary” altogether by Patrick's suggestion of a date at "The Julia Stiles-athon" at the drive in.

                                              !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I mention this not because it really drives our plot or even any of my points but instead because I am just so thrilled by the very thought! Which I suppose does drive my point a bit after all; David and I might be the same person. Turns out even my mom is starting to come to terms with the fact that I might be a big gay man stuck in a woman’s tiny body.  

But back to the story at hand, Moira does eventually convince David to go through with the barbecue, pointing out that Patrick sees her son for all that he is.

"Let us celebrate that. And he's bringing his guitar." 

Even a narcissistic mother can appreciate what a special thing it is to be loved this way.

And so David reluctantly relents and agrees to the grilled meat party, "but I draw the line at a sing along!"

Happily ever after, right? 

Not so fast!

Here we are presented with said plot twist, when iIn a painful merging of storylines, Alexis's character development into humility and acceptance of her love of Ted as wholly unrequited manages to muck up David's struggle to accept both himself and more importantly his worthiness of others emotional attachment.

This surprise turn is too important and slightly too complicated for me to regale you with the details but suffice to say it doesn't end well and ultimately David runs out on both the barbecue and Patrick.

Irate he chastises Patrick for encouraging him to trust love."Not trusting people is my comfort zone." 

Amen brother.

As the season continues we follow the conflict of these two (wonderfully incompetent) men’s struggle as they work to finesse their way into a functional  relationship. This quest also leads to lovely and hilarious moments of equally incompetent support from David’s loved ones

In spite (or maybe because) of the cultivated cliches of these moments we watch David's growth include the acknowledgement of the platonic love which has so sweetly grown between himself and Stevie. At the tail end of a horrific vacation, the two share a food poisoning induced moment inside a very cheesy spa. 

"Historically speaking the more I revealed of myself the less interested people got," David admits.

As she tries to persuade David that Patrick just isn't that type of person she adds "And I still like you."

"I think you're like my best friend" he tells her.

It is then they both realize neither of them have ever actually had a best friend before.

"This would be a really sweet moment if it weren't so sad." He says as she dashes back to the loo.

I'll save myself the trouble and the inevitable nail biting spoilers by not revealing David’s (and the rest of the Rose family's) other fabulous self-deprecating and equally vain, neurotic one liners but suffice to say every single moment this season is amazingly quote-worthy. 

From a dating app named Bumpkin (an online social hub for rural singles) to a baby sprinkle ("that's the stupidest fucking thing I've ever heard”) watching the Roses claw their way to dignity year after year is a true delight. 

Thank you for your service Canada.

[renlyisright]

Season 6 Episode 10: Justice for Everyone, Ex-Sept for Some

WHAT.

Just what. That seems to cover it. What.

Cersei just… but what about… but she… what… okay, one more try.

The episode starts with a shot of the sept of Baelor, and a montage of everyone preparing for the day’s trials. Then the music starts. Oh dear, the music. The foreboding, pling plong music. Cersei has a plan.

And what a plan. It’s very efficient. Put all of your enemies in King’s Landing in one place, then blow that place up. There’s some collateral damage, like the whole court and several districts surrounding the sept, but since those weren’t Jaime or Tommen they don’t matter.

When I figured out that she was going to use wildfire, and it was enough to burn everyone in the sept, the question became “Okay, who is going to get out? Margaery obviously, she had her own plot which we don’t know yet, some other named characters too so this doesn’t end all court politics in King’s Landing… they are not getting out. They are not getting out. High Sparrow, what are you doing? They -” And then it happened.

When you play the game of thrones, you win, or you die.

So many deaths in the span of a second. But I want to acknowledge all of them, so a few words of them all.

Grand Master Pycelle gets his own personal death, when he is called into Qyburn’s gothic cellar. He would have gone to the trial anyway, right? So when Qyburn says that this is nothing personal, and that he has no ill will towards the good old grand maester who has mocked him his entire time in the King’s Landing… he is lying like a cat. He wanted him there, so he could watch him be murdered by children. The realm will be in good hands with this Hand. Pycelle has been such a constant in the show, that him being gone feels weird. Who’s going to look smug, clang around and mutter in the small council meetings now? If there will be any anymore.

Of Lancel Lannister I have little to say. He poisoned Robert on Cersei’s order, then caught an arrow, was hit by Cersei, was sick for a long time, found the gods (they were hiding beneath the bed, I assume), became a religious fanatic, was stabbed by a child and then blown up as the wildfire’s first victim.

The High Sparrow is the second one to meet his gods, by a fraction of a second. If they exist, they will perhaps congratulate him for trying so hard and almost succeeding, or they’ll tell him to chill, that he was wrong on many points, but that when Cersei arrives, she will be dealt much more harshly. I never want an answer on what’s afterlife like in stories (purgatories are fine), but the High Sparrow was all about the afterlife and the judgement of the gods, and now he has gone there, and he has the answers. If he is welcomed not by his precious Seven, but by the Lord of Light… well, he went by burning, that should be a plus. I wonder about his last moments. When Margaery told him that Cersei is planning something and they should leave, what did he think it would be? Something like the Red Wedding? He knew that if he and/or members of the court died, they would be martyrs. He wasn’t afraid to die, and he wouldn’t care for the rich and elite, if the end result was a revolution. Well, he didn’t count for absolutely everybody dying at the same time.

Then there’s Margaery, who… was a plotter. She had a plan, that she would put to use when Loras was free to leave the sept. I wonder what it was. Margaery never was one to murder people, she just gently manipulated the people in power to do what she wanted them to do. Sadly, she couldn’t manipulate wildfire. (Sidenote: I think that not even Daenerys could survive that explosion, her body just wouldn’t burn, but there’s shock waves and everything else. So look out once you are there, there’s more of this stuff beneath all the big buildings). Margaery’s death was the biggest surprise. Everyone else there, sure, but she felt like she still had things to do and Cersei to challenge. Oh well. That’s the thing with death, it doesn’t care how much you have things to do.

Loras’ time has been almost nothing but suffering. It’s a pity, especially as he is… was the only gay man in the show after Renly died. Well, there was also that prostitute, but he was mostly a prop, and if he was still in the sept dungeons goodbye to him too. Anyway, after a long humiliation and abuse, he is mutilated and left to bleed as the High Sparrow goes after the bigger fish. And getting the star carved onto him was least of his worries, as he then dies too. Talk about drawing the short stick.

Mace Tyrell. How do I even begin to explain Mace Tyrell? He turned the wrong corner in the studio and ended up in the wrong show. Westeros is a darker place without him. I mean, sure, in that world kids died and people were flayed and so on, but that world also included Mace Tyrell, pompously going around the Red Keep, knowing that the place was kept in one piece only because of his diplomatic skills in the finances and fleet-organizing. Why, he practically ruled the realm behind the scenes, like in some game of thrones or something.

The Hand of the King is a very perilous position. Tywin Lannister was the only one who survived in that position for more than a season. Let’s see, Ned lost his head, Tyrion got a scar, Tywin was shot, Cersei (the Hand in all but name) was arrested and had Mother’s Mercy given to her, and now Kevan goes out in green flames. He was right in that Cersei wasn’t much of a ruler when she tried it, but completely excluding her from decision-making and her son was a wrong idea as well. Tywin could do it, but Cersei wouldn’t have blown Tywin up. Maybe. I’m actually not sure.

That’s everyone important inside the sept, but it doesn’t stop there. Oh how it doesn’t. Last week I wondered who will take the spot of the most vile character now that Ramsay is gone. Well… I have also thought that Cersei should get a win at some point. Can you say “summer child?” Because when Cersei gets a victory, it’s not pretty. The explosion at least was quick, even if it killed hundreds of innocents, but Septa Unella will suffer horribly for a long time until the good Queen allows her to die.

Queen, don’t I mean Queen Mother? After all, Tommen is still the king, right? Well, actually, after everything that Cersei has done for him... That is, trying to be the only one he ever listens to, removing everyone else from his life, including the woman she loves... To be fair, everybody in his life has only tried to use him for their own ends. Tywin told him to get good counselors, he has tried to get them anywhere he could. First Tywin, then Cersei, Margaery, Kevan, the High Sparrow… But he has been a puppet all the time. Once he figured out just how evil his own mother is, and that nothing in this world is good, except perhaps his beloved wife who just died… darn, that’s a lot to take in when your job description says “the most powerful man in the world” and that doesn’t help at all. He takes a long walk on a short windowsill.

There, that’s everyone in King’s Landing. Nine. What a purge. And it doesn’t stop there, as we move on to the Twins!

Lord Walder Frey is super happy for getting Riverrun back. He tries to make “The Freys and the Lannisters send their regards” into a thing, but Jaime is not amused. In their conversation Walder tries to make this a great victory, “I have defeated my enemies”, but Jaime points out that “he” had already defeated his enemies back at the Red Wedding, and then he couldn’t keep them defeated without Lannister help again. Now they are in the exact same situation but the Lannisters had to kill Blackfish for him. So after the Late Walder Frey becomes the late Walder Frey, is there a proper heir amidst his army of relatives, or will Cersei go “Pssh, who cares, let’s give Riverlands to some other house”?

Yes, Walder Frey dies. Not from old age, he’s too experienced of it to die from it, but from Arya’s hand, same way as he had her mother killed. Arya kills not only him, but also Black Walder and Lothar. She actually bakes them into a pie and has Walder eat them. This is some Titus Andronicus level horridness, and it’s done by Arya… actually I’m not even surprised. 

I don’t remember who are on her list, Cersei, the Mountain, the Hound… is anyone else still alive? Jaime apparently was not in the list, otherwise he wouldn’t have left the Twins alive. Arya uses faces, did she take them from the temple when she left? Do they work like that? And do the Faceless Men mind that she uses their tricks for her own purposes? Last time she did that, she was blinded. But maybe Braavos doesn’t mind her killing Cersei and some others, as the crown is still in debt to the Iron Bank. Even after the excellent deal Mace must have made with them.

But darn Arya, don’t act like cutting people up and baking them into pies is a cool thing to do. What I said last time of Sansa applies to her as well. Killing people is fine (in story), but cruel and unusual punishments must take a toll on you too, so better stop before you end up like Cersei.

So, on the throne? She has won the Game of Thrones, and sits now on the pointy chair. She has managed to gather enough of a new court to fill the throne room once more. The Mad King almost ended his rule by burning all his enemies, Cersei starts with it. So she read Stannis’ self-help guide “What would Aerys II do?” And with Qyburn as her hand and the entire Small Council, I’m sure her reign will be long and prosperous. Maybe even seven episodes long.

Sam and Gilly have arrived to their destination, without any dramatic hunting and confrontation which I feared would happen. They have the precious Valyrian steel sword in their possession. It would help a lot more in Castle Black than in the Citadel, but can Sam find anyone trustworthy enough to get it there in time?

Ah yes, the Citadel. I get big Alexandria vibes from it. The letter from Jon is accepted and believed, (“Yes, both the Lord Commander and the maester of the Watch died recently, I show up here months later holding a letter written by someone you don’t know and who actually is not the Lord Commander anymore, and I’m supposed to be educated by you.”), because who wouldn’t believe Sam?

The Citadel maester crosses out Mormont’s name from his book (if it lists current rulers, half of it must have been crossed out in recent years), and allows Sam to enter the library. Hallelujah! It’s got scrolls a plenty, and also planetary models. Cool! Is the map from the opening titles there somewhere too? More time here please.

So Sam and Gilly spent this season going from place A to place B, with the only hijinks on the way being having to dine with Sam’s father and stealing his sword with no repercussions (yet anyway). Now if they can just stay under radar for the next fourteen episodes…

Fourteen episodes. During the last fourteen episodes Sam defended Gilly once from the watchmen and then they travelled here. It feels weird that this story ends after that same number of episodes is up.

Well, so many of the cast died in this one that they can get more screen time in the future.

You know who won’t get any more screen time? Shireen. Because she was murdered. Davos confronts Melisandre about that, and her reasons and Davos’ objections are what I thought they would be. It felt super satisfying to hear Davos say “If he commands you to burn children, your lord is evil”, but sad as well. After hearing this, Jon doesn’t want her around anymore and exiles her.

Does Melisandre go to find another Chosen One? Well, Jon will fight the White Walkers so in that way he still is, but Melisandre can’t give her any tips from the Lord of Light. Which is totally fine with me. If he wants Jon to win, he can well melt the snow without asking for killing children first.

What did Olenna say to Cersei when she came back to King’s Landing last season? Sometimes you have to work with your enemies, not destroy them. Cersei never got the hang of that, so she ends up destroying anyone she can and making the rest new enemies. But Olenna, being awesome, is ready to put aside long blood feuds between the Martells and the Tyrells and travels to Dorne.

Seriously, Cersei has absolutely no proper allies anymore. The Freys need the Lannisters more than they need them. And being from the original usurper houses, and a bad person, she is a human-shaped target for everyone. Jaime and the Mountain have their job cut out for them to keep her alive long enough to be defeated.

I joked about “The War of Six Queens” back when Shireen, Margaery and Myrcella were still alive, but by the failure of existence of anyone else, the de facto ruleships have slipped to the women. Olenna, Ellaria, Cersei, Daenerys, Sansa almost, Yara likely soon. If you keep on killing everyone in the line of succession, at some point you run out of men.

Varys enters. He had Olenna’s respect back in King’s Landing, and now he can offer an alliance with three dragons and a big fleet full of soldiers. Daenerys’ job seems almost too easy. With Cersei being the most hated woman in the kingdom, and no other kings to challenge her rule-

Oh. These people are so easy to excite. Glover admits that he was wrong when he didn’t support Jon. Good, but the Glovers are still not right.

Sansa doesn’t take the leadership of the North, but she’ll likely become the regent as Jon has a war to fight during the winter. But that war seems much easier now with three dragons on the continent, if Tyrion manages to make Daenerys take that threat seriously. The dead can’t fly, and they can’t cross either the sea or the Wall.

That last information is told to us by Benjen. There are spells in the Wall’s foundations and the dead can’t pass while it stands. But the two dead watchmen who attacked Mormont in the Castle Black got through, by Jon and co bringing them there. Is that a loophole? But the watchmen won’t bring any more through, unless it’s for the pyre.

Benjen goes to be missing again, that’s what he knows best. Bran wants to see how the episode with young Ned ended, and rewinds there. Ned finds his sister Lyanna, dying in childbirth, and asks Ned to take care of the child.

The child. By Renly’s beard! That’s Jon! Who was thought to be the honorable Eddard Stark’s only sin, is instead the son of raped Lyanna Stark and her kidnapper, Rhaegar Targaryen, and Ned took care of him as his son. Wow.

I had no theories of Jon’s mother. I couldn’t figure out anyone 1) in the proper age range during the rebellion, 2) whose name would be a big enough revelation, and 3) who would be able to carry a child and have Ned then bring it to North with nobody wiser. So I decided to just wait and see. And this makes sense enough and fulfills the above conditions. Color me more than satisfied. It’s great to have six-year-long mysteries finally answered. What is left? The dagger will likely never be addressed in the show, Joffrey has been dead for a long time and who is going to care? Some historians, maybe. I don’t remember any other relevant mysteries which are still mysteries.

Littlefinger confesses that he has only ever wanted the Iron Throne, and Catelyn Sansa at his side. Sansa is not flattered, she has had enough of marriages for a long while. Besides, who would trust Littlefinger? Everyone, for some reason. If he had a bear costume and told everyone he was a bear, they’d believe that.

Daenerys wraps up on Essos. Slaver’s Bay is renamed into the Bay of Dragons, and Fabio Naharis is left in Meereen with the sellswords to keep peace there. “I said farewell to a man who loves me. Who I thought I cared for. And I felt nothing. Just impatience to get it over with”. Well, there’s two of us then. I haven’t thought much of any of Daenerys’ sidekicks... except for the ones coming from Westeros, now that I think about it. Huh.

Tyrion gets the Hand pin! And recognition of his skills and services! This is a beautiful day.

Then they are on their way. Daenerys is on her way. The fleet leaves Meereen and sails towards Westeros, with the dragons singing the song of fire.

Argh, I have to get the next episodes ASAP, no need for any months-long-breaks, I’m late as it is.

Compared to… all the other seasons, this one ended very optimistically. Aside from all the comparatively-decent persons dying, and with the knowledge that many more will die before the end, there’s still hope. The North is in peace and it’s led by a person who knows what they are up against, everyone is Cersei’s enemy so she won’t rule for long, and Daenerys has many ladies as allies already.

Okay winter, let’s go.

[kidsviral-blog]

Michael Ian Black jabs Coulter, ‘Founding Father fetishes'; Update: Waah!

New Post has been published on https://kidsviral.info/michael-ian-black-jabs-coulter-founding-father-fetishes-update-waah/

Michael Ian Black jabs Coulter, ‘Founding Father fetishes'; Update: Waah!

http://twitter.com/#!/michaelianblack/status/281617291832082432

And yet another entry in the celebri-ghoul marathon rush to ghoulish jackassery. Now, if you defend the 2nd Amendment, you aren’t just a bitter clinger. You are also a “Founding Father fetishist.”

Comedian and actor Michael Ian Black started off exposing his idiocy by swooning over Piers “Musket” Morgan, the genius and noted firearms expert who just yesterday claimed one can buy AR-15s at the supermarket.

Holy shit: @piersmorgan is a boss. gawker.com/5969741/piers-…

— Michael Ian Black (@michaelianblack) December 19, 2012

@truthfuljabs @piersmorgan He made the only point that matters: 12,000 gun-related deaths in US per year vs. 55 for England.

— Michael Ian Black (@michaelianblack) December 19, 2012

@truthfuljabs @piersmorgan He made the point that we have 300000000 guns in this country and correctly asked how more will help?

— Michael Ian Black (@michaelianblack) December 19, 2012

@truthfuljabs @piersmorgan Not true. statemaster.com/graph/cri_mur_…

— Michael Ian Black (@michaelianblack) December 19, 2012

@reedroberts Agreed. He lied his ass off about the phone hacking scandal, which I am not as angry about as I am about guns.

— Michael Ian Black (@michaelianblack) December 19, 2012

Whatever! Because, guns.

Black then oh-so-classily responded to a Twitter user who is fed up with the ghoulish influx of celebrities who are pushing an agenda on the backs of the dead.

I live ten miles from Newtown CT.RT @retroradiogirl raise your hand if your ill that Hollywood is full of libs that can’t relate to the 99%.

— Michael Ian Black (@michaelianblack) December 19, 2012

Don’t tell me I can’t fucking relate. I’m living it. @retroradiogirl

— Michael Ian Black (@michaelianblack) December 19, 2012

@retroradiogirl What the fuck does one have to do with the other? Are you out of your mind?

— Michael Ian Black (@michaelianblack) December 19, 2012

@retroradiogirl “Obama’s guns?” What are you talking about? THIS is the debate you want to have now? THIS?

— Michael Ian Black (@michaelianblack) December 19, 2012

That doesn’t help push his agenda. Don’t look behind the curtain!

He then pitifully tried to slam S.E. Cupp and Ann Coulter.

@secupp Your argument for a nation that has 12,000 gun-related deaths a year is to do nothing about guns? Nonsense.

— Michael Ian Black (@michaelianblack) December 19, 2012

Wanting to stop mass murder is LOLZ! RT @anncoulter Words under photo of Pres. Obama in Lawrenceville, GA gun shop: “Salesman of the Year!”

— Michael Ian Black (@michaelianblack) December 19, 2012

@joseph_mcbride @anncoulter You’re probably right. I’m neither a pundit nor as shrill as her. Doesn’t mean her views are correct.

— Michael Ian Black (@michaelianblack) December 19, 2012

Get back in the kitchen, shrill girls!

And then the straw men came out in droves; evidently, Mr. Black just loves the sound (or sight) of his own tweets. A few examples:

@makattak40 Banning guns does help. Please look at Australia, England, etc.

— Michael Ian Black (@michaelianblack) December 19, 2012

@4_rodger @kounteeline Nonsense. America is the most religious Western country.

— Michael Ian Black (@michaelianblack) December 19, 2012

@djcaudill @makattak40 Further I would rather have more live violent crime survivors than murder victims.

— Michael Ian Black (@michaelianblack) December 19, 2012

Better to be unarmed and unable to defend yourselves from rape or another violent attack! Suck it up, ladies.

The whole “evil in the world” argument attempts to reduce people to “other than humans,” eliminating any societal factors.

— Michael Ian Black (@michaelianblack) December 19, 2012

Evil implies a supernatural cause for heinous actions, and since we can’t fight the supernatural, we are excused from blame.

— Michael Ian Black (@michaelianblack) December 19, 2012

Er. And what does blaming the gun do?

@michaelianblack blame the gun companies, blame the NRA, blame society, blame gun owners.Blame everyone except the shooter.

— joshua wade (@HenryHill25401) December 19, 2012

Bingo! Liberal alleged thought is all about sloughing off responsibility for absolutely everything. Poor rubes can’t do a darn thing on their own; Big Daddy Government must do all for you. You can’t be expected to even function on your own, never mind take responsibility for anything!

@pogue009 If loose GC would make us safe, I would too. Unfortunately, loose laws don’t seem to work.

— Michael Ian Black (@michaelianblack) December 19, 2012

And strict gun laws, like in Conn., do?

Obama calls for US gun control proposals by January. So CT being #2 Most Strict Gun Laws in the U.S. not good enough??? bbc.in/XIMahp

— John Schafer (@johnschafer) December 20, 2012

Question One in Our National Conversation: If gun control is the “answer,” why did it fail the families of Newtown? redstate.com/2012/12/17/que…

— Brad Thor (@BradThor) December 19, 2012

Answer that one, Mr. Black.

Next came the blowing off of our Constitution and our rights. Rights aren’t absolute, you see. They are only given if Smarter Than You people believe you deserve them. Know your place, people!

@carcartercarter Finally, these large capacity guns/ammo clips serve no societal purpose. None.

— Michael Ian Black (@michaelianblack) December 19, 2012

So threaten to kill the president. RT @herald_ml you either want our constitutional rights or you don’t. See 2nd amendment, enough said!

— Michael Ian Black (@michaelianblack) December 20, 2012

@jrp4kids @herald_ml Do you believe we should able to lay landmines in our front yards? Should private citizens have ballistic missiles?

— Michael Ian Black (@michaelianblack) December 20, 2012

@herald_ml And not you. Our freedoms are not absolute. There is ample precedent for this; the question is where you draw the lines.

— Michael Ian Black (@michaelianblack) December 20, 2012

@herald_ml Not going to argue framer’s intention of rights, only interpretation: our rights are not absolute.

— Michael Ian Black (@michaelianblack) December 20, 2012

@herald_ml Or what about that nice mosque down the road? If they want a Blackhawk with Tomahawk missiles, you’re cool?

— Michael Ian Black (@michaelianblack) December 20, 2012

@herald_ml The amendment does not mention firearms, only “arms.” Def: weapons and ammunition;armaments.

— Michael Ian Black (@michaelianblack) December 20, 2012

@herald_ml @jay_gord @jrp4kids @michaelianblack What does this mean? In what way does President Obama necessitate a private militia?

— Michael Ian Black (@michaelianblack) December 20, 2012

@herald_ml @jay_gord @jrp4kids Nobody has done that. Nobody.

— Michael Ian Black (@michaelianblack) December 20, 2012

Not surprisingly, he is a Meghan McCain bestie.

@barret_swatek @mccainblogette Please don’t kill her with booze.

— Michael Ian Black (@michaelianblack) December 19, 2012

Founding Fathers fetishization? What about deranged ghoulishness?

“We are not a decent society, and the ghoulish, deranged left is once again trying to use a tragedy as an opportunity.” bit.ly/VMxNHx

— Brady Cremeens (@brady_cremeens) December 18, 2012

You want a “dialogue?” Then respond to these questions, Mr. Black.

“So here’s the challenge for gun control advocates: explain why you failed the people of Newtown.” ow.ly/gbX4I

— Justin Hart (@justin_hart) December 18, 2012

Must-read: why did gun control fail Newtown? is.gd/3m0Fn0 Note that CT *already has* an assault weapons ban.

— Dan McLaughlin (@baseballcrank) December 18, 2012

More from RedState:

You want this one event to be a national test? Fine. Why are there 20 children dead when the state of Connecticut did what you said they should to keep their people safe?

Once you answer that question, we can get this conversation underway.

But, you know, it’s easier to just slam the grown-ups and the people who defend freedom and liberty as “fetishists,” huh?

Update: Aww, he doesn’t like being questioned, evidently.

@dudeforromney “Updating my profile to ‘celebri-ghoul.’”

— Michael Ian Black (@michaelianblack) December 20, 2012

@herald_ml @avschad2112 I think Avs was talking to me. I’m trying to ignore this morning to the best of my ability – Twitchy Team is on me.

— Michael Ian Black (@michaelianblack) December 20, 2012

The whining continued when Black retweeted things he thought were meany pants.

RT @shannityshair: Hi @secretservice,@michaelianblack is encouraging others to threaten to kill the president.I’m not amused. Hair …

— Michael Ian Black (@michaelianblack) December 20, 2012

RT @strangisk: @michaelianblack Our rights are absolute, you frigging tyrant wannabe

— Michael Ian Black (@michaelianblack) December 20, 2012

RT @loganrachel: @michaelianblack living it? you mean you were shot too? could you get any stupider

— Michael Ian Black (@michaelianblack) December 20, 2012

RT @bronson5624: @michaelianblack The Bill of Rights are STATED RIGHTS. Not granted rights by Government. You’re a blithering idiot.

— Michael Ian Black (@michaelianblack) December 20, 2012

RT @jerrycamp68: @michaelianblack Your extensive experience as a Canadian sketch comedy actor qualifies you as an American Constitutiona …

— Michael Ian Black (@michaelianblack) December 20, 2012

Read more: http://twitchy.com/2012/12/20/celebri-ghoul-michael-ian-black-jabs-coulter-founding-father-fetishization-swoons-over-musket-morgan/

[type2diabetestreatments-blog]

Dealing with Diabetes Distress

New Post has been published on http://type2diabetestreatment.net/diabetes-mellitus/dealing-with-diabetes-distress/

Dealing with Diabetes Distress

(*this news item will not be available after 05/17/2017) Thursday, February 16, 2017

THURSDAY, Feb. 16, 2017 (HealthDay News) -- People with diabetes have to think about their condition and make treatment decisions constantly -- and all that extra work and worry can lead to psychological distress at times.

"Diabetes distress" isn't the same as depression, however, diabetes experts note. It's a condition unique to the 24/7 demands that come with diabetes, particularly for people dependent on insulin.

"The day you develop diabetes, it's like the universe just handed you a new full-time job that you have to do in addition to whatever else you're doing. It's a special job that has a big impact on the rest of your life. There's no pay and no vacation," said William Polonsky, president of the Behavioral Diabetes Institute in San Diego.

Alicia McAuliffe-Fogarty, vice president of lifestyle management at the American Diabetes Association, put it this way: "Diabetes distress is the extra burden that people with diabetes have to carry. They have to do everything that other people do -- take care of work, family, finances -- and in addition they have to make sure to check their blood sugar, remember to take their medicine and/or adjust their insulin doses, count carbohydrates when they eat.

"It's a day-to-day and minute-to-minute burden. It's doing everything 'right' and still seeing your blood sugar levels go up," she added.

Diabetes distress is a range of different emotional responses that come with dealing with the burdens of caring for diabetes, Polonsky explained.

"It's being fed up and overwhelmed with the demands and concerns of diabetes. It's feeling powerless in the face of diabetes. It's knowing that despite your best actions, sometimes those [insulin] numbers go up and down and it seems beyond your ability to influence. And it can negatively influence one's quality of life," he added.

The phenomenon hasn't been well-studied -- Polonsky said he and his colleagues are in the middle of a study on diabetes distress that will hopefully answer some questions about the condition.

He said diabetes distress probably affects about 30 percent of people with diabetes at some point in their lives.

"It's not everybody, and it's not all the time, but it's pretty darn common, and a whole lot more common than depression" among those with diabetes, Polonsky added.

Diabetes distress and other psychological conditions are common enough that the American Diabetes Association added a section to its Standards of Medical Care in Diabetes - 2017 guidelines on screening and treating people with diabetes for distress, depression and other mental health concerns.

The new guidelines, published recently in the journal Diabetes Care, suggest that providers screen all of their diabetes patients with standardized tests for these conditions.

A demanding juggling job with no breaks

There are two main types of diabetes -- type 1 and type 2.

People with type 1 diabetes don't make enough insulin -- a hormone the body needs to use the carbohydrates in food for fuel. Because of this, people with type 1 rely on insulin injections or insulin delivered through a tiny catheter inserted under the skin and then attached to an insulin pump worn outside the body. People with type 1 diabetes using shots may need five or six insulin injections daily.

In people with type 2 diabetes, the body is no longer able to use insulin properly. Most (95 percent) of diabetes cases involve the type 2 form of the disease. Sometimes, people with type 2 diabetes also need to use insulin injections.

However, using insulin is a difficult balancing act -- too much or too little can cause problems, even life-threatening ones.

When blood sugar levels drop too low from too much insulin, people can become disoriented, and if levels drop even further, they may pass out. Blood sugar levels that are too high and left untreated over time can cause complications such as kidney troubles, eye problems and heart disease.

To keep track of blood sugar levels when using insulin, most people rely on glucose meters and a lancing device that pricks the finger to draw out a drop of blood. This may be done as few as 4 times a day, or as many as a dozen or more times daily, depending on how blood sugar levels are fluctuating.

And, many factors besides insulin can influence blood sugar levels. Food, alcohol, physical activity, emotions such as stress, and illness all can cause unpredictable changes in blood sugar levels.

It helps to find strength in numbers

Both Polonsky and McAuliffe-Fogarty said it's important to recognize and treat diabetes distress because it can have a negative impact on blood sugar management.

"In some studies, diabetes distress can impact diabetes care more than depression," McAuliffe-Fogarty said.

Antidepressants aren't likely to help someone with diabetes distress, according to Polonsky.

McAuliffe-Fogarty suggests checking in with your health care provider so you can go over your current diabetes management regimen. It's possible that changes in your management might help, she said.

Or, it might help to have a visit with a diabetes educator to go over some of the basics again, she recommended. Many people with type 1 diabetes are diagnosed as children, and as adults may not realize they're missing some of the basics of diabetes education.

"Maybe pick one or two things that would make the most impact on your management and focus on those one or two small things, and you'll likely achieve those goals. Then set one or two more goals and move along like that -- not everything needs to happen at once," McAuliffe-Fogarty said.

It's also important to look for "evidence-based hope," Polonsky said. Many studies have suggested that with consistent modern management of diabetes, many people can live well with the disease.

"Most people have heard the scary messages, but with good care, the odds are pretty good you can live a long and healthy life with diabetes," he noted.

Both experts agreed that support is an important component of treating diabetes distress. "You don't want to do diabetes alone. If you have someone who's rooting for you, that really helps," Polonsky said.

He said parents or spouses can give a person with diabetes a break by taking over the management of the disease for a little while. It gives them a "diabetes vacation."

For some, distress can get more serious. Depression isn't always easy to spot in someone with diabetes. And some of the physical signs of diabetes, such as low energy, could signal that someone's blood sugar is out of whack, Polonsky explained.

McAuliffe-Fogarty said about one in every four or five people with diabetes will experience depression at some point.

She said signs that suggest you need to speak with a mental health professional include: changes in appetite and sleep patterns, having no interest in activities you once enjoyed, social isolation, feeling persistently sad or hopeless, and having a down mood on more days than not.

SOURCES: Alicia McAuliffe-Fogarty, Ph.D., vice president, lifestyle management, American Diabetes Association. Alexandria, Va.; William Polonsky, Ph.D., C.D.E., president, Behavioral Diabetes Institute, San Diego; Standards of Medical Care in Diabetes - 2017; January 2017, Diabetes Care

HealthDay Copyright (c) 2017 HealthDay. All rights reserved. News stories are written and provided by HealthDay and do not reflect federal policy, the views of MedlinePlus, the National Library of Medicine, the National Institutes of Health, or the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services.

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