ok so everyone has their dumb nevr gonna happen theories sooooooo mine is that what if maybe this new hot man of color isnt actually nancy's second love interest destined to die or disappear from this realm??? what if he isnt actually a temperance plant? WHAT IF hes gonna help her break the curse?? like yah he has a crush, who wouldnt? and nancys got eyes, yknow? BUT they never date hes just got an in with magical relics and tristan is just a guy who really wants to be friends with nancy? and actually ships her and ace together?
and maybe im on drugs? but i think i can write a better next episode where tristan and nacy look like theyre dating but theyre just trying to break the curse without anyone knowing cuz they got so mad last time. and like we still get angsty ace for only like half an episode and tristan and nancy break the nace curse and she comes back by minute 19 all tada we can kiss now. and then they all live happily ever after for the next couple of episodes, the end.
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Tristan and Palomides hot take (?)
Let the record show that according to Le morte d’Arthur, Tristram (Tamtrist, worst secret identity ever, and yet surprisingly effective) pretty much hates Palomides on sight because he’s jealous. Palomides is just minding his own business and pursued a woman who was available. He even got on his potential in law’s good side.
He makes Palomides fear for his life and forces on pain of death to swear that he will forsake Isolde and also not wield his harness or wear armor for a year (which I assume means not questing for a year.)
Like, does Tristram feel so threatened by Palomides that he can’t stand the idea of him going out questing or possibly courting Isolde? This feels so petty and pathetic.
Then Tristram goes back home and sleeping with Palomides’s (possible) sister in law! Like what?
So, in summary; Tristram started it and Palomides has every right to hate this man and I fully support him in that…even if I do not condone his kidnapping attempts.
Thank you for coming to my tedtalk.
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sooo i'm curious about Nephews (And Nieces) Of Inexplicable Origin.... (Is it possibly what I think it is?? 😆)
Thanks for the ask! It most certainly is!!! 🤪😁 I had to go back and find our reblog chain with @that-one-loth-cat which started with your “Bo-Katan’s Obitine Flashbacks” (and this Satine & Sabine incorrect quote)…but yeah, the ‘nephew’ in question is Korkie, and the ‘niece’ is a Sabezra kiddo. 😉 The fic chronicles Bo’s saltiness over Satine passing off Korkie as her nephew, and she eventually gets to hit Ursa with an I told you so! that’s about 20-25 years in the making.
I didn’t have too much of this written when you sent the ask a few days ago, but I couldn’t help myself, so I finished the whole first scene. 😅
And fair warning, this snippet is from the POV of young Death Watch Bo-Katan, so there’s a fair amount of Star Wars cursing, i.e. variations of ‘kark’ and ‘kriff’. (Also, I gave Korkie a real name since ‘Korkie’ feels like a nickname. I’m not sold on it, though…might post a poll with a bunch of different candidates for what ‘Korkie’ could be short for.)
(Link to the WIP list for the ask game.)
“And then she had the audacity to call him her nephew! Her nephew! That’s how she decided to explain the baby she brought back with her! It doesn’t make any kriffing sense. I’m her only sister — her only sibling — so how do you think that made me look?”
Bo growled into her cup of tihaar and, rather brashly, swallowed down the rest in three fierce gulps. Her throat ached and eyes threatened to water, but not so badly that it blunted her ire over the red-haired little karker Satine introduced to her years ago.
Not that he was such a little karker anymore — Korkelan would be twelve now, and Bo wondered if he’d managed to connect the dots (of which there were only two, his ‘aunt’ and her Jedi protector), that had taken her all of five seconds to connect herself. The whole affair was more suspicious than a Jawa in a droid bar, and she had no doubt that it would explode in Clan Kryze’s face someday.
Glancing up, Bo found that her friend didn’t seem to be all that concerned with the not-so-inexplicable origins of her nephew.
Handle pinched between forefinger and thumb, Ursa bent her spoon back, preparing to catapult a red lentil across the banquet table. “One moment,” she murmured, squinting in the dim lighting of the tent. Slumped low in her chair to remain inconspicuous, she waited for the Saxon brothers to take their seats at the other end, each with a fresh cup of tihaar — one of the few tastes of Mandalore they still enjoyed on Carlac.
The head of the spoon sprang from her fingers, sending the lentil hurling across the table, soaring over Pre Vizsla’s bald head, and plunging right into Gar Saxon’s drink with a PLOP!
For a few long seconds, he stared down at the floaty in his cup. Stunned confusion morphed into disgust (as if a mynok had flown into the tent and taken a kriff on his plate), which simmered into a blind rage directed at the most likely culprit:
Skinny, slimy, pretentious Tiber.
“Aruetyc upstart,” Gar growled — and before the younger Saxon could utter a word of self-defense, his arm shot across the table and grabbed him by the collar of his bodyglove, lifting him off his feet and heaving him to the other side of the tent like a sack of joguns.
Ursa snickered in delight, sinking back and crossing her arms while watching the Brawn of Clan Saxon march over to the Brains and clobber him like a rabid rancor.
“I’m sure Count Saxon sleeps well at night knowing his clan’s future is in the hands of those two kriffhead di’kuts.”
Twirling her dinner knife, Bo leaned forward, planting her elbows on the table.
“Well, if you don’t want the future of Clan Wren to be in even worse shape, you should take my story as a warning. Anywhere you go in the galaxy these days, there are philanderering Jedi Knights preying on honest, Forge-going Mando girls. They whip out their lightsabers and put on a show with their perverse telekinetic shenanigans, and next thing you know, your sister is carrying around a ‘nephew.’ All it takes is one romantic jetpack ride. Mark my words.”
Ursa pried her attention away from the one-sided brawl to give Bo a flat, unconvinced look.
“Right. I’ll start worrying about Sab’ika going on romantic jetpack rides with unscrupulous Jedi boys when she can chew solid food.”
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