#and DO NOT GET ME WRONG. PAN HUNTER IS REAL TO ME. but is it to ONC lets be serious

[disventure-rewrite-takes]

i would have put more emphasis on lakes sexuality in her original season. We only know she’s a lesbian because of a pride post. It would have been cool to see her talking about it with Rosa maria or maggy. About how she doesn’t want to get married to this guy because she isn’t attracted to men, but doesn’t have the words to describe it. Maybe Rosa and maggy help her realize that being same sex attracted is normal and nothing wrong with it. (Maggy autocorrected to maggot like 4 times wtf)

fr like i think besides jaiden, season 2 had no mention/hint of queerness and then BAM half the cast shows up in the pride post. uhhh thanks for the half-assed representation from unbearable/boring characters that we will never see again i guess! you’re so progressive ONC!

[wu-sisyphus-gang]

Jaune: "So..."

Taiyang: "So?"

Jaune: "Ruby must have gotten most of her looks from her mom. Summer? RIght? I mean... I see where Yang got it. From both you and Raven Branwen. But Ruby must have taken mostly after her mother."

Taiyang: "You knew Raven?"

Jaune: "I fought her twice. I killed her the second time. I have her sword. Do you... do you want it?"

Taiyang: "I didn’t know that about you. No. I don’t want it. It’s yours by all rights. And Ruby does take after more Summer than me. It’s a good thing. It reminds me of her."

Jaune: "Couldn’t have been easy with how she wanted to be a huntress. With how both of your girls wanted to be hunters. I hope… I hope my kids choose something else."

Taiyang: "It wasn’t a walk in the park. I worry about them but I had to let them go. I couldn’t hold them back. But you’re planning on having kids? With Ruby?"

Jaune: *nods* "Ruby wants four. Weiss wants two. They want to drown me, I think. "

Taiyang: "You’re a lucky guy."

Jaune: "You… everyone says that. But they wouldn’t if they really knew me. You feel me?"

Taiyang: *laughs* “A little bit.”

Jaune: “Ruby and Weiss are all I really have. I lost everyone else. And if I lost them I’d lose it in a bad, bad way. I… I have some real power behind me and I’ve done some pretty terrible stuff with it before when no one was able to stop me. And we’ll see how I fucking handle kids.”

Taiyang: “Ruby trusts you with it. That counts for something.”

Jaune: “Ruby trusts a little too easily.”

Taiyang: “Maybe. You took off with her to Mistral. That was you.”

Jaune: “Back then I thought they were just her enemies and it was my place to serve beside her. It was my honor to serve her and hound her enemies like a dog.” 

Taiyang: *nods* “But they weren’t just her enemies. Ozpin’s enemies. I don’t know the details like Qrow and Summer did.”

Jaune: “My family are those enemies. I defected from them. I fight them now. I… I lead the fight in many ways. It’s my responsibility to fight them. It will kill me. And Ruby and Weiss are trying to squeeze as much life out of me as they can before I bite it fighting something like Ozpin’s enemies or something for the council.”

Taiyang: “You run errands for the council?”

Jaune: “They pay well enough and it’s sort of my duty. The money can’t buy what I really want but it pays for pretty much everything else pretty handily for my ladies.”

Taiyang: “Summer used to run those sorts of missions,. I’m sure Ruby worries about you.”

Jaune: “Ruby worries about literally everyone. But yeah. She worries about me. But it’s… it’s really only a matter of time. You know? Until I run into something too big for me to handle. And there’s no one who can really bail me out if I’m in a bad way. But in the meantime I have my women and a pretty good job.”

Taiyang: “Beacon, right?”  

Jaune: *nods, walks into Taiyang's family room. Folds his arms in front of his chest and listens to Ruby work in the kitchen. She was after the old pots and pans and sheets which belonged to her mother. She wanted them at our house. It wasn’t far. Just a thirty minute drive.*

Taiyang: “Well, you seem like a good kid…”  

Jaune: “But looks can be deceiving." 

Taiyang: “Ruby’s an adult. She can make her own decisions. She always wanted a big family and I’m glad she’s getting it. Raising kids is safer than hunting.”

Jaune: “It’s just as hard, though. Isn’t it.”

Taiyang: “It’s harder.”

Jaune: "I was worried about that. And I suspected as much. Luckily I’ll have Ruby and Weiss to bail me out of a bad situation. Set me straight when I’m wrong.”

Taiyang: “Are you sure about that?”

Jaune: “That or this world stops being my problem. I lost it before. I know what would shatter me again. Losing Weiss or Ruby would be intolerable. I literally couldn’t handle it.”

Taiyang: “Kids change you." 

Jaune: “Vale would be gone. No one could stop me from tearing down cities in my madness. Atlas and Mistral too. It would break me and I would level mountains out of spite.”

Taiyang: “Kids change you.”

Jaune: “Nothing could change this. We call that checkmate.”

Taiyang: “Maybe. If you have kids, they could ground you. Keep you sane. My kids kept me sane. Both times.”

Jaune: “I would break. I’m already glass. Ruby has no idea how fragile I am and how she holds me together. She’s my moral compass. I would perish. I couldn’t do what you did. Luckily I’m the one slated for death. I couldn’t handle it if it was one of them.”

Taiyang: “We don’t really have a choice. I had to keep going for my little girls. I didn’t have a choice. I had to let Summer and Raven go. I had to push forward. They were so wonderful and they held me together but I had to keep going for my little girls.”

Jaune: “Not so little anymore.”

Taiyang: “No. Not so little anymore. Now she’s somebody else’s sweetheart. And I just have to trust that she’s making the right decision for herself with who she chooses. You seem like a good kid but I sort of have to take it on faith.”

Jaune: “Sounds hard.”

Taiyang: “Wait until you have a little girl of your own,” the words dripped from his lips like an ancient curse. Jaune imagines it stretching all the way back to the dawn of time. From father to son in law. “Then tell that to me.”

Jaune: “Weiss wants a little girl. A boy and a girl. I’m not sure if she wants both bad enough to do some in vitro bullshit. But I know that’s what she wants. And Ruby I think is up for dealing with whatever hand she gets dealt.”

Taiyang: “Six is a lot.”

Jaune: “It is. And they’ll probably have to do most of the work without me. Especially if I bite it.”

Taiyang: “But you want to give it to them?”

Jaune: “I’d do anything for them. I’d even fight my family and try to walk away for them. It’s so easy to say. ‘I’d do anything for you.’ But would I actually? Would I kill my friends if they asked me to? I’m having kids for them. Because they want it. And that’s pretty hard. Maybe it’s even the hardest task that they could ask me to do. You know?”

Taiyang: *nods*

Jaune: “I’m gonna fail. Whether I beat my family or not, I will fail to be a good enough parent. It’s literally impossible to do a good enough job"

Taiyang: “I take offense to that. I did good enough." 

Jaune: “You’re not allowed to be offended because did you? Or could you have done better?”

Taiyang: *gets quiet*

Jaune: “How do I do it? How do I do a good enough job? On top of all my other responsibilities?”

Taiyang: "You can’t. You will fail."

Jaune: “I knew it. But I have to try anyway. They’re asking me to try anyway. They want me to try. They really honestly believe I can be a good father even with all my other bullshit. And I can’t talk them out of it. And I’ve tried. And I would do anything for them. And it scares the living shit out of me. Even more than my family does.”

Taiyang: “Good. You should be scared. Six.” *grants Jaune a kindly smile* 

Jaune: “Thank the gods I have two of them to support me or I would be fucked.”

Taiyang: “But then again you wouldn’t be having six without the two of them.”

Jaune: “You been to our place yet?”

Taiyang: *shakes his head*

Jaune: “You’re welcome to swing by. Big empty house to fill with all those little ones. That’s the plan.”

Taiyang: “The wedding is there as well, isn’t it?”

Jaune: *nods* “It is. That’s the accord, at least. As far as I’m aware. Most of the planning is those two. I’m sort of just along for the ride.”

Taiyang: “They both taking your name?”  

Jaune: “Yeah. Both of them. I suppose I had better ask for your blessing.” 

Taiyang: “Is that how you ask me?”

jaune: “Yeah. It is.”

Taiyang: “Did you ask Weiss’s dad for his blessing to marry her?” 

Jaune: “Weiss isn’t on speaking terms with her father. I was going to ask the man she chose to walk her down the aisle. A butler who actually raised her named Klein.”

Taiyang: “So you don’t intend to ask her father?”

Jaune: “No. She hates her pop. She couldn’t care less if I had his blessing or not so I don’t care about asking for it.”

Taiyang: “But you do care about mine? And this other man’s? Klein’s?”

Jaune: “To an extent. Ruby wants to marry me. I’m gonna marry her. You can either give me your blessing or you can not. But I’m gonna marry her regardless because I love her and she loves me. It’s still your choice to give me the blessing or not.”

Taiyang: “But it doesn’t really matter. You’d marry her anyway.”

Jaune: “I’d like your blessing. Ruby cares what you think. That counts for something.”

Taiyang: “And I’m supposed to give it to you off of one conversation?”

Jaune: “You got to take me on faith. Isn’t that what you said? And yeah, maybe don’t give it to me today. Maybe don’t give it to me in general. But I’m gonna marry Ruby. We’re gonna have kids. You can be as big of a part of that as Ruby lets you.”

Taiyang: “What about you? You gonna cut me out?”

Jaune: “Not unless you motivate me to. Please don’t motivate me to. And it would take more than not giving me your blessing to motivate me to.”

Taiyang: “So how important is this blessing.”

Jaune: “I think it’s important to Ruby.”

Taiyang: “So… pretty important?”  

Jaune: “So pretty important."

Taiyang: “But not so important that you wouldn’t marry her against my will?”

Jaune: “You’d have to have some pretty potent will to stop me. You couldn’t stop Ruby from leaving for Mistral under my protection. When I was her dog and nothing more. Even if you would have wanted to, you couldn’t stop her. And I’m willing to bet you would have rather she stayed here. Nice and safe. Not out dealing with those same forces that took her mother from you.”

Taiyang: “Would you kill and die for Ruby?”

Jaune: “Easily.” "pulls up his shirt to reveal the bifurcating scars Tyrian left behind* "This serial killer came after us out in Anima and I almost died rather than let him take her. When I killed for the first time it was in Ruby’s defense. I’d do it again now. I have a lot more power now than I did then. I’d do more if she asked me for more. Like having kids.”

Taiyang: “Like having kids. Put your shirt down, kid. I’m probably going to need more than one conversation.”

Jaune: “No problem. You had two wives, right?”

Taiyang: “Not at the same time." *shakes her head*“Not like you will.”

Jaune: “Just about. Ruby and Yang are what? A year and a half apart? Minus nine months implies… You moved on fast at the very least.”

Taiyang: “I never really moved on and got over Raven.”

Jaune: “Ouch. But Summer scooped you up nice and quick.”

Taiyang: “Yeah, I suppose she did.”

Jaune: “You can be more honest with me than that.”

Taiyang: “I… I don’t know what you mean?”

Jaune: “Did you sleep with Summer before Raven left you?”

Taiyang: *says nothing, doesn't meet Jaune's eye*

Jaune: “I was just curious. Does Ruby know?”  

Taiyang: *shakes his head*

Jaune: “How do you want her to find out?”  

Taiyang: *lowers his face into his hands* “Don’t tell her, please. I will. When I’m ready.”

Jaune: “Fair cop. Fair enough. Just don’t wait too long. I don’t want to have to tell her.”

Taiyang: “Making me the bad guy?”

Jaune: “Holding you responsible. I have to be responsible for so much bullshit. Your daughter comes up to me and tells me ‘take responsibility for me, won’t you?’ You have to be held responsible for the impact you have over her emotions too. And if I have to hold you responsible so that she’s informed and aware of everything she should know, then I will. That’s my job. I’m the person she turns to now.”

Taiyang: “She used to turn to me…” 

Jaune: “You had your time, old man. She’s mine now.”

Taiyang: “And if I don’t like it?”

Jaune: “Well let’s ask her. We’ll tell her you don’t like it and ask her to decide.”

Taiyang: “That’s not fair…”

Jaune: “Really? What’s not fair about it? You had her for fifteen years, old man . I’ll be lucky to squeeze out ten. You don’t get to sit there and tell me it’s not fair. Your time as the sun has passed. I’m her sunshine now. And I worked hard to get there. I killed, and bled, and almost died to get there. Over and over again I killed and bled and almost died. Worse than that happened to me too. What’s not fair? Tell me specifically? If I’m not a good enough man for your daughter you better come out and accuse me of such.”

Taiyang: “You’re not a good enough man for my daughter."  

Jaune: “Yeah, no shit. But she chose me anyway. She chose to save me. She could have left me in the garbage where I belong. Now I’m the most powerful man on the planet and it’s all because of her. She has the power to make and unmake me. I’m only the most powerful man on the planet.”

Taiyang: “And this other girl? Weiss? You want her too?”

Jaune: “I always wanted Weiss. Ever since I was young. She was my first real crush. She was the question with the changing answer. ‘How do I be good enough?’ Do I need to be faster? Stronger? Smarter? More confident? Do I need more power? Always more power. Unending with the power. When is it enough? And of course the answer is that it’s never enough. It can’t be. I can’t be enough. I was never going to be. But she also chose me anyway.”

Taiyang: “And how did you three get together?”

Jaune: “How we got together… Ruby and I dated out in Anima. Then I got split up and they and I weren’t sure that we’d ever see each other again. Then Weiss and Ruby got together. They were always close and had good chemistry. Then when we found each other again Ruby begged me not to make her choose. She begged me. So I gave it a shot.”

Taiyang: “How magnanimous of you.”

Jaune: “Please. I’m allowed to have something . Just because you never figured out how to make it work with your business doesn’t mean we can’t. And Ruby begged me to try. I had no choice. And I always wanted Weiss. It just played out well. If we tried it again a million times I think they’d exclude me. And I would deserve it.”

Taiyang: “If you don’t deserve to marry them and you know you don’t deserve to marry them, then you shouldn’t be marrying them."

Jaune: “Not even if they beg me to? Their heads are on straighter than mine. If they think it’s a good idea, then who am I to argue?”

Taiyang: “You sound like a dog. Why would I be happy about my little girl marrying some dog?”

Jaune: “Well, I am a dog. But I’m her dog. And I’m doin’ it because she asked me to. And I would do anything for her. Even if I personally don’t think it’s a good idea. I didn’t think this trio was a good idea. But she begged me to try and robbed me of my free will. I had to. And you don’t have to address me like you’re not also a dog. Do you? Out of you and Summer Rose, who was the person and who crawled on all fours?” 

Taiyang: “Cruel of you…”  

Jaune: “But not inaccurate. Is it? And it’s not my fault that it’s the truth. Did you deserve her? Or was she so fantastic you didn’t deserve to pray for her? When she came for you did you have a choice in sireing Ruby? Or did she tell you to come and, like a dog, you did?”

Taiyang: “I couldn’t help it. I didn’t have any choice really. I never really did. Not with Summer or with Raven.”

Jaune: “So do you think I have any choice when she says she wants to marry me and wants four kids?”  

Taiyang: “You’re supposed to be a man."

Jaune: “I’m not. I never was. Ruby knows that. Or I’ve told her so many times she’s forbidden me from saying it anymore. Qrow didn’t like me around her. He thinks it’s dangerous because of my family. And it is. And Ruby knows that. She is so cruelly merciful.”

Taiyang: “She’s sweet like that… Summer was as well. That’s where she gets it from.”

Jaune: “And here I am hoping for a daughter just like Ruby. I'm over here praying for my heart to be broken.”

Taiyang: “A good woman is like that. On one hand I hope… this awful thing I’m going through right now… some kid does to you someday with your daughters. My granddaughters. On the other I really wouldn’t wish this on another person.”

Jaune: “I’ll look after Ruby and my daughters.”

Taiyang: “Lookin’ after ‘em is easy. Letting them go is hard.”

Jaune: “I hope I’m fuckin’ dead before that happens. Stone cold gone.”

Taiyang: “I mean… it’s beautiful. Watching her grow into the woman she’s supposed to be. It’s so beautiful I can hardly watch it happen. But I do have to watch it happen. And part of that is you. You’re the man she wants to marry. You have a role in it too. And it’s so terrible I want to laugh and so beautiful I want to cry. And I’m just left sitting here feeling it all. What am I going to do now? She doesn’t need me anymore? She’s the reason I’m alive and kicking. And she doesn’t need me anymore. And I can’t attach myself to her like a parasite. I can’t. I have to set her free. And part of that is watching her run into your arms and watching her run towards heart break and I can’t stop it. It’s agony and wonder unlike anything in the world. And all I can do is watch while my brain melts.”

Jaune: “Sometimes life is like that, I think. With the awe and horror mixing together in unmerciful quantities. But what can we do about it? We just have to lay back and take it. Or let it take us at any rate. It’s so much bigger than we are. It’s huge. Ruby has a heart bigger and stronger than my whole soul. That’s why I’m just a dog compared to her. The real reason. Not just because I do what she tells me to do.”

Taiyang:: “Sounds painful."

Jaune: “I want to claw my eyes out but I want to stare at her forever and I deserve neither. Was it the same for you?”

Taiyang: “Largely. I couldn’t handle it. Summer was too good to me. I didn’t deserve it. And she left me with this shining gem of a daughter. I didn’t deserve Ruby either. But… my time as her light has ended. You’re her sunshine now. Isn’t that right?”

Jaune: “My turn. My turn to not deserve her.”

Ruby: *walks in carrying a box from the kitchen* "What are you two talking about?”

Jaune: "You." 

Taiyang: “I was just giving this kid my blessing. He asked for it and you trust him. That’s good enough for me.”

Ruby: “Oh, well that’s wonderful. I’m glad you two can get along. And you don’t have to worry, dad, Jaune’s good material. He’s a wonderful person.”

Taiyang: “You wouldn’t be marrying him if he wasn’t.” 

Jaune: *takes the box from Ruby on basic principle*

Ruby: *cocks her head up at him*

Jaune: *walks out of the house and puts the box in his bike's trunk*

Jaune: *catches the tail end of their conversation*  

Ruby: “-oh? Yang? Well she’s with Blake. They’re dating but I don’t know how far along they really are with it. They aren’t pressed for time like I am with Jaune.”

Taiyang: “But you’re not rushing in?”

Jaune: *hesitates by the door* 

Ruby “No, I’ve dated Cloud for almost three years. I trust him totally and I’ve been with Weiss for almost two. Longer if you count how long I’ve been on a team with her. But I get the sense it’s not Weiss that has you worried about me.”

Taiyang: “Well… he talked a little about his family. And the missions he’s doing. I hear you say you love him and trust him. But… I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

Ruby: “I’ll be fine dad. Swing by our house some time. Okay? I love you.”

Taiyang: “I love you too sweet girl. Bye. Drive safe.”

Ruby: “I will. See you soon!” *walks out of the house*

Jaune: *stares at her*

Ruby: "What?”

Jaune: “I just… like looking at you."

Ruby: "So what did you and my dad really talk about?” 

Jaune: “I told you, you. I mean, a little about Raven and Ozpin and missions for the council. But it was mostly about you.”

Ruby: “Like what about me?”

Jaune: “Well, how many kids you want. How hard it’s gonna be for me to be a teacher, a hunter and a father. We talked about how I didn’t really need his permission to marry you. I mean, if he could stop you from doing what you wanted, then he would have stopped you from leaving for Anima. Then we talked about how I killed for you and almost died when the Scorpion came for you. He talked about how scared he was.”

Ruby: “What did you say?” 

Jaune: “I told him his time was over. I told him it was my turn to take care of you.”

Ruby: “Were you mean?”

Jaune: “Maybe… I’m a selfish beast. And you belong to me now.”

Ruby: “Be nice to him.”

Jaune: “Sure. No problem.”

If you liked this excerpt try my fanfic Motion Sickness V2

[dinolich]

FAQ

One click spot for frequently asked questions, pertaining to HELLAWEEN and art in general. This will be linked in my bio and updated over time.

HELLAWEEN -What was the inspiration behind HELLAWEEN/How did it come to be?

In 2014 I had just graduated college and moved across the country for a storyboard internship at a film studio. I had a huge quarter life crisis when the environment clashed with me in every way, which left me questioning if I had made a massive career choice mistake. To help take the edge off I decided I needed to come up with some characters that were as self indulgent as possible. So I asked myself "What if there was Halloween level of a Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater game?" and "What if My Chemical Romance wrote the soundtrack to Scooby Doo?" and thus, the main cast was born. Originally I didn't have any plans with them, I was just having fun drawing them for inktober and developing their personalities. Once the internship ended and I was able to set my career back in motion with some significantly better studio atmosphere fits for me in California, I started getting more serious about developing a linear story. I spent some time pitching different versions to tv studios and shorts programs. Got some great feedback but no real bites. Fortunately, I had a post blow up that caught the attention of my publisher who reached out to see if I was interested in doing a book instead and I LEAPED at the opportunity! HELLAWEEN is very much inspired by my own teenage years, growing up in the Bay Area, being surrounded by alt and skate cultures in the 2000's. As well as exploring identity, and growing up queer but the words for "how" didn't really exist yet. Plus a deep love for spooky cartoons and stylish anime, of course.

-What kind of music pairs the story/characters?

Great news I have playlists for everyone

Gwen- Ashnikko and My Chemical Romance Miles- 100 gecs and Oingo Boingo Sloane- PUP and The Cure Hiro- Gorillaz and Maximum the Hormone Bea- AFI and The Used -Do you have any voice claims for the cast?

I’d mostly want them to be played by actual teenagers. But I have a couple in mind that I think could work—

Gwen I could see Valeria Rodriguez (Lagoona and Spectra on the current MH series) Miles maybe someone like Zeno Robinson (Hunter Owlhouse) Sloane I have no idea, but definitely a VO who’s non binary who can sound like a strong leader.

With Hiro and Bea it’s impossible to not hear Dante Basco and Grey Griffin in my head. The Jocks I would kill to cast any actor from Riverdale I could get my hands on. The rest I have no idea.

-What are the character's pronouns/orientations? Gwen- She/Her Miles- He/Him Sloane- They/Them Hiro- He/him Bea- She/Her Jarrahdale- She/Her Headless Horse Kid- He/Him Fritz- They/Them Whitney- She/Her Hazel- She/Her Kyle- He/Him Dom- He/Him Ester- She/Her In general I don't want to define their sexual orientations. I'm an aroace author and it's not something I'm interested in writing about. Ideally, I'd like to give the audience room to project themselves onto the characters. Don't get me wrong this book is QUEER and themes of identity are important, just don't expect any kissing in the canon story. Headcanons on the other hand, go nuts!!! The Jocks however, are all bi or pan. Can I get HELLAWEEN in ____ country/language?

Getting it published outside of the US is not out of the question, but at the moment I don't have any concrete info on that. I've heard folks have had good luck getting the book through their country's Amazon site or Bookshop.org Can I draw fanart/make my own playlists/write fanfiction/make a character?

oh my GOD yes ART Who are your artistic inspirations?

Jhonen Vasquez and Aaron Alexovich, FLCL, Jamie Hewlett, The Muppets, Mike Mignola, Mob Psycho 100, Rem's Devil's Candy, early Tim Burton, 2000's Neopets, Pokemon, plus online artists I’ve looked up to for years or grew up drawing with. What programs do you use?

Comics- Clipstudio Paint Sketching- Procreate Storyboarding- Storyboard Pro Writing- Final Draft/Google Docs What ink markers do you use in your sketchbook?

Copic markers, pentel pocket brush, pilot brush pens, micron fine liners Check out my episode of Creative Block!

[smokeowl-mx]

THE OWL HOUSE...THEORY...?

Ok! Wanna dump something here real fast before it leaves my mind forever.

-Piece by the amazing @moringmark . A faithful representation of Phillip Wittebane's afterlife. Rest in Pain, b**ch!-

Something that actually bugged me about The Owl House was Phillip's name change to Belos.

Given he was a human and had enough knowledge to warp around as the Emperor of the Boiling Isles, his name had to mean something like Hunter's.

DISCLAIMER: I DON'T CLAIM TO HAVE ALL THE ANSWERS, THIS IS JUST WHAT SOME RESEARCH LED ME TO. IT MAY BE WRONG OR STANDING ON FALSE INFORMATION. IF YOU KNOW ABOUT THIS SUBJECT FIRST HAND, FEEL FREE TO CORRECT ME AND GET ME OUT OF MY IGNORANCE.

Doing some research for a project I'm making. I stumbled upon the main deities of slavic folklore.

Perun, whose equivalents would be Zeus, Odin and/or Thor.

And his chaotic sibling: Veles, whose equivalent is Loki and Pan.

Even though I say "equivalents" is just so you get an idea of their abilities and roles. Perun was the main god of the pantheon with power over lightning, symbol of order.

Where I wanna go with this is what Veles was.

Veles was also known as Welos, he was not just the god of nature and shepherds, but also god of the barrier between this world and the underworld, guide of souls through the threshold and, get this, GOD OF MAGIC, ALCHEMY AND WITCHCRAFT!

Philip not only turned himself into a "Prophet" and Emperor, but, to his own DAMN SATISFACTION, HE BECAME A GOD FOR THE WITCHES. Everytime a Witch called his name, they were calling him their God.

After The Collector gave him the weapons to rule over the Isles, he felt himself as superior to them, even more so than he already did. So much so he gave himself the name of one of the few MALE GODS OF WITCHCRAFT to prove his point across. THAT'S THE EXTEND OF THIS GUY'S NARCISSISM!

Still don't believe me?!

Veles or Welos was often portrayed in two forms:

A horned inverted triangle and a Horned Man (thus, the horned mask)

Some of the animals that represented this deity were the snake, the dragon and the owl. Belos had a very slithery personality and a slow way of dealing with those who opposed him (like a snake killing it's prey) eventually became a Dragon (when he took the Titan's heart hostage) and the Golden Guard's mask looks like an Owl.

Also, remember that guardian of the threshold thing I said previously, it fits with his whole "protect the world from evil" BS he believed.

Given he couldn't do magic, he did alchemy. If you're familiar with the work of an artificer or FMA, you should get the idea. Alchemy was a pseudo science, antecesor of modern chemistry, that studied the world, it's elements and magic to harness it to make things as the famous Philosopher's Stone and Lead's transformation into Gold. One of the matters of study of alchemy was resurrection. Thus, the Grimmwalkers.

Following the previous point, Red was often asociated with the Stone and it's abilities, it also meant "the end of a great work". What leads me to believe his and Hunter's "Magic" were product of alchemy and, maybe, the creation of a Philosopher's stone.

Given the hints and little winks TOH makes to FMA, I believe I ain't jumping any sharks.

Though his Puritanism also influenced how things would run with the Isles under his control. He wanted to feel like a God, but without the Witches knowing it (because it will blow his cover in a sec) so, he gave himself a name connected to everything he hated, but that could elevate him without suspition: Belos, The God of Magic, Alchemy and Witchcraft.

So yeah...what Elijah from Not so average Fangirl said in "Hollow Mind" wasn't that far off.

Belos, for Witch and Hunter = Witch Hunter.

@danaterrace You have my love and respect.

Thanks for everything! Can't wait to see what you make next.

FOR MORE UPDATES ON THIS, FOLLOW THE REPLIES.

[shkika]

I can’t stop thinking about how meaningful and strong the saint ending is, I’ve never heard someone discuss it in too much detail. Saint has to be one of my favorite characters.

All of the rambling below is my own interpertation so by all means I could be wrong of missing something. Spoilers obviously! (this blog isn’t all that spoiler friendly anyway)

You meet Moon/Pebbles, both or neither.

If you meet only Moon/Pebbles, they fear for you, they don’t understand you. Your cycle doesn’t spin around like theirs it eats itself.

When you meet them together, however, they can reflect, they can add a new perspective to each other and they understand what you are actually doing and why it’s for the better. You’re saving them!

“You need to wake up.”

So you do.

You swim backwards. You fight your way back through the void sea to return to the world outside the dreamscape to continue your own hellish cycle. And what you see in the distance above the clouds is iterator buildings.

And before they stood proudly as clouds and flashed with their storms, now they are barely poking above, lifeless and ruined. All of the iterators are in a state of decay. The way the world is confirms this as their rain used to warm up the atmosphere (according to broadcasts it was the only thing), so without them it’s a cold desert.

And that hit me like a brick honestly. The iterators were a gift to the world, the beings supposed to save it. They were its only hope to find the solution and free it.

But they’re all gone. Everything is dying and as the camera pans down you can see.

That all this world has is you.

You’re supposed to save them along with all the creatures trapped in the cycle. That is why you must endure a unique cycle of your own.

If you haven’t saved Moon and Pebbles, I can only assume how seeing his broken building (most likely Pebbles) in the ending cutscene would be a great way to tell the player that Saint will come back for them. As that is their job. They will come back for all of them.

MIND YOU Saint’s death also hints a solution to Sliver of Straws death????? That’s INSANE. (no not the challenge that’s not canon)

Moon in the void (with Pebbles dialouge) says that the solution was impossible to properly find or understand. It was one variable out of infinity. And if it WERE to be found, they wouldn’t be able to tell it appart from the faulty ones.

You see the answer once you’re on the other side. Wouldn’t that.. imply that perhaps Sliver accidentally got it right. Like won the lottery basically, but even more insane. Found that one variable that might or might not work out of infinity. Attempted it.

And then simply couldn’t come back to tell it to the others. She got lucky. The idea that it wasn’t like pure smarts and wisdom (she bet on animal fights too that’s silly), but luck that played a part is very nice. It implies the others weren’t .. not enlightened enough or not smart enough. They didn’t get lucky!

Another confirmation is that the void sea is a dream. Moon and Pebbles say it is one and they even tell you that your presence feels real. (Implying creatures and people can be just dreams.)

Which means Artificers children were a dream. (Pups can’t ascend makes sense). Nsh in Hunters cutscene is MORE than likely a dream.

Things CAN meet in the void (like Pebbles and Moon and hopefully Survivor and Monk), but it can also simulate.

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

Rough Stuff: Wrecker x Sick!Reader

Warnings & Info/Notice: She/Her pronouns for Reader as this is based on a dream I had when I was sick a year ago (writer's block is a mother…) so there's some fever-influence to the shenanigans and plot before "Bounty Lost" of Season 1; first time I've ever written something about our beloved Clone Force 99 crew (minus Crosshair in this fic) so be gentle with me. 👉👈 

No real need for an age warning for a comfort+fluff piece, mentions of medical paraphernalia, great chance for inaccuracies: some are purposeful to reflect Reader's sickly state, some are likely genuine writer error because I am long overdue for a series re-watch of TCW so references and characterizations might be result of misremembering. Star Wars swearing present. Dialogue heavy.

Word-count: 5,813

Blastdoors hissed once, twice. Off to the left, weary feet and stiff shoulders were freed of mud-caked footwear and heavy supply pack before venturing further into the modified housing space. There was a comfortable and easy silence painted over the place for once, no immediate indication anyone else would be here to the unfamiliar passer-by. 

"Did you hear that?! She's back!" 

Something stopped beeping in the distance momentarily. "Hear what?" 

"Hah! Course Tech wouldn't have been able to hear anything other than his little toys!" 

"They are not toys, Wrecker; it's important to make sure all my diagnostic equipment are in proper working order on a regular basis to avoid delays during critical moments. Like on Bracca."

One could be almost entirely sure the others would be glancing at one another by now with the silent look of Oh Maker, please make it stop between whoever had been lucky, or unlucky, enough to catch another's eyes.

"Guh, I don't want to go back to Bracca any time soon, once was enough for me… But, uh, h-how do you know it's her, Omega?" Light and speedy footsteps lead up the stairs as at least three of the Clone Force 99 members come to welcome a friend back home. "Hunter said she almost always steps to the left of the blastdoors to take care of dirty footwear and her gear when she gets back if she doesn't have to talk to Cid first. Right Hunter?" 

Right Hunter? was just a rhetorical question, one Tech hadn't quite yet caught onto before Omega was already excitedly hugging the young woman before he would've had the chance to express his concern had the young Clone been wrong. "Ome-! Oh, nevermind, I see that you're right. Welcome back, [_____]. Good to see you safe." 

Responding with a drained smile for the moment, she released Omega and scooched the pack across the floor as more of the modified Clone unit joined her and the others upstairs. "Certainly glad to be safe, Lotho Minor and its acid rain was not something I prepared for… And uh, whatever that other planet was that I went to on a hunch looking for whatever it is Cid wanted didn't pan out either. Uh… Bogano! That's the one. Need a couple of nights of solid sleep before I try again. She's not going to like it if I told her any of that. Did find something else, at least." Bending at the waist to lift the pack off the floor and up to the table there was a sharp, short little crackling sort of sound when she inhaled that most picked up on.

Hunter's frown deepened when this provoked a cough she was fighting to stifle. "Y'alright, kid? Sounds like you've got the wind knocked out of you." Unsuccessfully hoping to put his concerns to rest with a dismissive wave of her hand and another stifled cough, she put on the best smile she could with a short chuckle. "I'm fine, Hunter. I just kicked up a lot of dust on Lotho Minor, I'm sure whatever settled into my lungs is just working it's way loose over time. Don't worry about me." Hunter certainly wasn't convinced, but he would let it go for now. After the brief hell they went through on Bracca with another one of their own succumbing to the inhibitor chips (fortunately for a short period of time, thank the Maker) and the scare that gave everyone, he wasn't exactly ready to put his men through another potential stressor so soon after all that. Ciddarin "Cid" Scaleback's other "employees" had their own set of stressors. Clone Force 99 largely kept to themselves as they navigated this changing galaxy for safety, and others did the same. Times like these you'd be smart to avoid rubbing into too many shoulders… but the young female scavenger was a little different.

Hunter trusted her well enough, scrappy and capable of holding her own, but she really didn't sound or look well presently. But there was no sense dwelling on it now when Omega and Wrecker were buzzing with excitement about her return. "Well, if ya say so." 

"Well, Hunter, I do," she teased, swatting the back of Wrecker's hand as he reached into her pack with a gentle laugh, "and leave that alone, silly. There's some delicate stuff in there. I was going to pull it out in a moment, don't go snooping." He gave a sheepish smile, stroking the back of his head a few times to soothe his guilt over touching her belongings without asking first once again. "Let's seeeee… found a few old components and scomp links that Tech or Echo or both may find useful for something or just mess around with. A surprising find you might like Hunter: a perfectly good blowtorch-zapper-drill-thing I don't know the proper name for; practically brand new! Think it's called an All-Kit? And, uh…" she came to an awkward pause in the middle of pulling something out once more, face falling from the bright smile she'd previously had. "I know it's… not something you all like to talk about much regarding what happened to your teammate, someone who felt like a brother to you guys; but if he ever does come back around and everyone reconciles, I found a nice scope that I hope Crosshair would like… b-based on what little I've heard." 

Omega laid her hand over the squeezing fist the resourceful scavenger was pushing into the table to stop herself from getting too emotional in front of everyone, so young and only able to do so much realistically. "That was awfully thoughtful and nice of you, [____]. I think he'd appreciate it. Be happy to know that you saw something and it made you think of him even when you haven't met him. Makes you a good person, in my opinion…" 

"Heh… Thanks Omega," she was pulled into a side-hug for a moment while [_____] brushed away tears with the back of her other hand to compose herself, "o-oh, and this is for you. I found a little droid I'm sure you'll have some fun with to get him up and running in no time. And noooow, I think the little guy got smooshed down to the bottom of the pack because it was the first thing I found; so sorry about that Wrecker. But I think he'll be okay! I thought your Lula could use a little friend." Freed from the pack, she passed over the souvenir to the final Clone who hadn't been given something yet.

It was a soft toy, roughly the size of a young Bogano Bogling, fashioned to look like a Loth-cat. That is, if a Loth-cat had floppy ears and were a little chubby; it was clearly a toy meant for and once loved dearly by a little child somewhere in the vast galaxy. One button eye was loose and there was a small split in one of the seams on the tail, but they were in decent shape otherwise. 

"Awwwh, thanks kid. That's real nice of ya. Like 'im already!" 

Smiling warmly after being swept into a vice-like hug, the young woman started to reply before her voice became a little faltered and scratchy. "I'm glad, I thought you might! I'll be happy to give him a little bit of TLC in the morning when I've had some sleep, and a chance to c-clear my lungs a- a bit more-!" Her shoulders jerked violently with each cough that had taken her by surprise, quickly found and given a chair to sit in with the wind knocked out of her just like that. 

Hunter hadn't let it go since the crackling sound even after she insisted she was fine a few times once she caught her breath (and Wrecker repeatedly apologized for another one of his crushing hugs not for the first time). Something definitely had settled into her lungs, but not on Lotho Minor since this hadn't started since arriving on Bogano. 

"Tech, we should run a health scan."

"Right. I'll have to sanitize and pre-"

"Less talking, more doing, Tech." 

"R-right, sorry." 

-x-

"She's contracted a bacterial infection."

The young woman blinks rapidly, eyes jerking over the room before she looks back to Tech. "What's that mean? You saying I got sick from something out there on Bogano?" 

"Well it didn't start until a few days after getting to the planet, so it is the most likely place for you to have gotten sick with some sort of respiratory infection based on what you told me before your health scan."

Wrecker grunted in confusion from the corner of the room, arms crossed over his chest nervously. "Now wait just a sec, I thought you said this was a bacterial thing! Now it's a respi-something infection? Which is it?! I'm all confused!" 

Sighing sharply with a few wags of his head, Tech adjusted his eyewear before explaining things to Wrecker, pecking away at his datapad. "What I meant is it's a respiratory illness caused by a bacterial infection. Maybe even fungal, or from certain types of spores, depending on what plant life [____] came across during the trip she made to Bogano, on a hunch. But since we don't want to stress her respiratory system further, I can't ask her a lot of questions at this time; I'm trying to find flora, other environmental occurrences or elements that could have caused this or explain it for now. Fortunately for her, it doesn't look to be life-threatening. For the time being." 

Omega jumped down from Wrecker's knees and scoffed, "Well that's a cheerful thought, Tech…" scooping Lula off the floor, Omega laid her down on one of the flat surfaces near to [____] before she began tugging at the dusty sleeves of the woman's clothes, "you should wash up and get some rest. You haven't been sleeping well." Eyebrows jumped just a fraction, a tell of a nonverbal question. "You've got lines under your eyes, here and here, and you're a bit unfocused. Easily distracted or staring off in the distance. Drooping posture. You need a nap." 

"Oh do I," The scavenger laughed, lovingly threading her fingers through Omega's short crop of hair the way she often did, "is that an order?" Wagging her head and laughing with her, Omega tugged her sleeves again and pulled [____] behind her. "Nooo. But I can tell you over and over again like it was an order!" 

-x-

Koff! Koff! 

These coughs were getting worse. It was now plainly evident that [____] had gotten more than just a "little ill" like Omega had hoped when she noticed that it had been several hours since she'd gone to lay down "just for a bit" and planned for waking up around lunch. She had slept several hours past lunch, when she did wake up [____] looked somehow even more exhausted. And sicker. 

So much sicker. 

"By the Maker, you don't look so good, kid. I wouldn't-!"

"Echo, shh!" Omega hissed urgently, "Cid might hear you!" The Bad Batch were trying to keep Cid from finding out about her scavenger's health status before Tech could determine the contagion level, but now after Echo had called out to [____] to keep her from leaving her bunk it was unlikely the Trandoshan woman hadn't heard anything from the temporary quarters. 

The Trandoshans were known for their thrills in the hunt, so what could be said for Cid? Perhaps she had excellent hearing, or Echo was really loud. It was everyone's best guess to say it was both. Cid wasted little time getting down to the blast doors, but was unable to open them. "What's going on in there?! And why is this locked?!" Hunter gave Echo a silent oh, you've really done it now sort of look before he stepped up to the blastdoor and hovered his hand over it's control panel in case the Trandoshan was working on opening up what might be a necessary barrier in the event Cid's scavenger picked up something particularly contagious and severe.

"Afraid we can't let you come in, Cid," Hunter starts, "[____] got back earlier and she's not feeling well. Tech is trying to see if it's serious, so we're keeping everyone in until we know." 

"Sick!" Cid spat from the other side, "Why wasn't I told sooner?!" 

Echo nudged [____] deeper into the borrowed bunk (Wrecker's), short of using a disciplinary tone of voice with her for leaving it in the first place across the living quarters while their leader dealt with their employer. "Apologies," Hunter offered in a measured voice, "we had hoped to get the work-up completed so we could present everything at once, but it's taking longer than Tech anticipated." Hunter could practically see Cid heave the frustrated sigh he heard. "Can't Goggles hurry it up?"  

Tech was bowed over his datapad in a separate corner of the quarters, scowling and squinting at at least three different screens he'd been cycling through. He hadn't spoken to or even seemed to hear anything his brothers asked in at least the last hour and a half since lunch while he scrutinized current findings. "He's doing the best he can," Hunter promised, having faith his brother was doing everything and more to get that work-up sorted, "he'll get it done." 

"I'm not worried about him not getting it done, dark and broody, I'm worried about having at least… HunterTechEchoWreckerOmega[____] - SIX people not in any fit state to do jobs for me! I'm not running a quaint little hotel on some Outer Rim planet, here!" Hunter was uncertain if Cid meant to sound so callous, but he had the feeling it was Cid's way of worrying for them. If six people couldn't work one of her jobs for them, they couldn't receive pay. Though… Cid might be more upset about the interruption to her cash flow. "The moment Goggles figures out what's wrong with her, you better be snappy about contacting me." 

As expected. "Yes ma'am," Hunter grumbled with a note of bitter annoyance. "I'll be certain to." 

-x-

Whatever it was Tech said she had was past the most contagious period, thank the Maker, but she felt awful. Breathe too deeply and her lungs would give a sharp crackling before the prolonged coughing fits began. A hot wash in the showers again would make her too dizzy to be safely unattended, worried she'd faint. She felt submerged in Mustafar's lava fields one minute, and spelunking in Hoth's ice caverns in another. Her kriffing bones hurt. She couldn't sleep. But if she left the bunk, she was worried she'd wake up one of the men in the room; born and bred for war, they likely weren't deep sleepers (at least that's what she figured). She'd undoubtedly wake up their leader, Hunter, or perhaps Echo, who dealt with the chronic and residual pain of the cybernetics and phantom limb syndrome after his… experience on Skako-something… that usually made it difficult to fall or stay asleep some nights. 

She didn't want to get another concerned but well-meant lecture from either of them, and Tech… Well: If she woke him, he'd probably turn a voice of concern into a scolding tone without meaning to or being entirely aware he was doing so. She wanted to avoid that. Omega was going to be concerned about her and wake one of her brothers to help if [____] disturbed the young lady's sleep. 

And here, [____] wondered while stifling another cough what the snarky sharp-eyed sniper might do if he was woken… she'd heard so little about him. Crosshair. Skilled marksman. Sided with the Empire. An inhibitor chip. What was an inhibitor chip? She didn't know. She didn't feel like grabbing a datapad next to her to find whatever she could. She was just so tired, and she didn't know how much longer she could lay here with her entire skeletal system feeling heavy with pain. Would getting up to take something for the pain even help? Could a painkiller even touch this kind of pain? It'd be worth a shot, at least. 

She tried slowly swinging one leg out into the room to slip out from the low bunk, but the careful movement to avoid waking anyone was surprisingly painful. "Ah, kriff!" She hissed in a sharp whisper, unable to sit up without the feeling of a thin blade violently jabbing every one of her joints. 

"Y'alright, ad'ika?" 

Who said that? [____] looked out into the dimly lit room in surprise, trying to figure out who she had accidentally woken up. Wrecker. But he looked like he'd been awake for a while, sneaking back into the room from the kitchen unit perhaps. Mm… there had been a lack of soft snoring when she thought about it. "Ad'ika?" Wrecker asked again, stepping closer with a look of concern etched in his face. 

Ad'ika… had a number of meanings, none of which [____] could remember right now. It was hard to think about multiple things right now, it almost hurt. She squeezed her eyes shut, sighing, trying to recall what she just heard him say. Maker, everything hurts, make it stop, make it stop… "Wh-what…?"

"I asked if you're alright," his voice rumbled above her now, then she could hear him settle down on one of his knees so he wasn't looming above her or speaking right in Omega's ear where she lay in the bunk above [____]'s, "I mean, I know you're not because you're sick an' all, but- y'know what I mean." She didn't, and her silence spoke for her, so Wrecker tried elaborating. "Erm, trying to check on you, I mean. You really don't look so good right now. Are you having trouble breathing again?" 

"No," the woman sighed carefully, feeling the ache in her lungs starting when she caught herself taking a deep breath by reflex, fighting the need to cough, "not really. My whole body hurts. Even my bones. I was gonna try to sneak out of my bunk without waking anyone to find something for the pain, or just something to make me sleep so I could ignore the pain, but it hurts to move." 

"Not the usual pain after one of your jobs for Cid?" Wrecker hazarded a guess. "Is it because of the virus Tech said you have?" 

Khoff-KOFF! "Think so…" 

Wrecker just frowned upon the reply, voice dripping with sympathy when he next spoke. "Awh, poor ad'ika. There something I can get ya?" She wasn't certain what to ask for; something to dull the pain, or something to make her sleep? Would it be safe to take both? Just what did ad'ika mean? She's heard Wrecker call Omega that once, right?

Too many questions, too little focus. Too many aches and pains and symptoms to be dealing with so late into the night. Her brain was too frayed and raw after the unsuccessful scavenge where she was prepared to face Cid's furious disappointment if she'd been caught home empty-handed and now this virus and… at least one awake Clone, kneeling near the edge of the bunk in quiet worry while [____] stared at him in a dumbfounded haze. 

"Would you get me something to help me sleep if you answer something for me first, Wrecker?" 

He blinked, puzzled by the request. "Ah, sure."

"What do you keep calling me?" 

"Ad'ika can translate to "kid". An' a coupl'a other things like ‘sweetie’ too that I'm sure I'll remember later… It's Mando'a. I-I can stop callin' you that if you want." She shook her head, Wrecker just looked at her with uncertainty for a moment before he got off his knee and went to find something in some stash of medical supplies Echo had been hoarding for the Batch in a corner of the living quarters. "If you say so, kid."

"Ad'ika."

He couldn't be sure why it sounded like a request, rather than reassurance, coming from her in a timid, breathy whisper. Maybe he was imagining things because she looked so miserable and sick. Humoring her wouldn't hurt anything. "If you say so, ad'ika." Wrecker tried to sort through Echo's box of supplies as it was, but ended up dumping it out on the table so he wasn't wasting time getting something to help [____] get to sleep by digging around every little box when he could just lay it all out and go from there. He'd put it all back in the morning. "Here, this looks like the righ' stuff!" Wrecker whispered back to her triumphantly, giving the little foil packet a wiggle back and forth in victory. "Alright ad'ika, should be asleep soon with one of these. Can I get ya anythin' else? More water?" 

She just shook her head, taking her tablet with a careful swallow of water, both of them hoping she doesn't cough in the process. It wouldn't take long at all before she would hopefully be asleep. "That's okay, Wrecker. I think I'm just going to try getting some sleep now… so tired." 

Wrecker just chuckled softly, saying nothing as he tucked the blanket over the scavenger once she was laying in the bunk. Heh, yeah I bet... Echo threatens to use them on Tech when he's not sleeping mildly reasonable hours. "Sleep well, [____]." 

-x-

Omega dropped out of her bunk in lieu of using the ladder some mornings, a habit some of her brothers weren't keen on her developing in case of situations where one of them unwittingly became her crash-pad. Yeah right, like it'll ever happen… Omega had said on more than one occasion.

Omega fell into Wrecker's lap, waking him suddenly and pouring further salt in the wound by trodding on his hand while she scrambled to get off him. "Ouch! Omega!" She could feel her blood ice over with guilt for hurting one brother and waking the others, Hunter out of his bunk before she could blink. "I-I'm sorry, Wrecker! I didn't know you were down on the floor, I didn't mean to!" 

"Omega-"

"Awh, I'm fine! Just scared me awake is all." Wrecker interrupted Hunter's see: this is why I keep telling you lecture with a laugh, not looking upset in the least. "Takes more than tha’ to hurt me!" 

A finger went up across the room after eyewear was situated and adjusted. "Except you clearly said "ouch", Wrecker. And if Omega didn't wake [____], you certainly would have." Wrecker groaned, knowing Tech was right that he probably just woke their friend who was feeling poorly. "Whoops… sorry about tha- oh." Incredibly, she was still asleep when Wrecker turned to apologize, unbothered and unaware of the startling sibling drop-in just an arm's reach away minutes ago. This virus was clearly pretty rough on her, she looked so pale and feverish under the single blanket even in the dim light before any additional overheads were activated. Echo hobbled stiffly from his bunk to flip on a few of the overhead lights, oblivious to the mess of medical packets and boxes on their one and only large table on his way past. 

Oh right. Wrecker was on his feet in a flash, accidentally bumping past Omega. "Oh sorry! I need to-!" 

"What happened to my med box?" Echo asked the general room almost sternly, looking both annoyed and confused at the sight of the medical paraphernalia in an unholy mess after all the trouble he went through organizing it just recently. "…did [____] have trouble digging through it for something last night while we were all sleeping? Oh I knew I should have found a crate with compartments and labels!" 

Echo was waved off, shooed away from his pet project before he had a chance to begin clustering everything by type. "N-no, it was me, I'm the one who made the mess, Echo." Wrecker confessed, giving his brother a sheepish, timid look as he sorted the supplies. He was afraid Echo would be mad at him, feeling bad that he'd made a mess of everything when he should have just switched on a light or something in order to locate something to help the ailing woman who couldn't muster the energy to shuffle into her own lodgings. "She looked in pretty rough shape when I came back from getting a snack and some other stuff and I wanted to do something to help and I-I made a mess trying to find something to help get her to sleep, I'm sorry. I'll take care of it." he continued, tenderly lying boxes on their narrow ends along the sides of the container the way he vaguely recalled them being in. 

Echo sighed in good humor, flicking his hand dismissively in the direction of the table. "Oh honestly, just leave it for the time being. M'not mad. And we'll probably be using a good deal of these supplies while she's sick, anyways… just dump everything back into the box so we have a clear surface for breakfast for everyone." 

"Even [____]?" Omega piped up softly, wondering if they should wake the scavenger. Hunter gave the proposed question some thought. Should they? Or just let her sleep and get her something to eat later? What did they even have for food within their living quarters at Cid's Parlor? It'd been some time since he remembered making a supply run that didn't involve Echo collecting medical paraphernalia and included food. They had to be low, just between the five of them, but now with [____], who they were taking care of... He couldn't guarantee that breakfast would be filling this morning without hoping some shops were open early. "Wrecker, how much food do we have?" Hunter knew that since Wrecker admitted to getting a snack, he'd have a better idea. 

"Ah," Wrecker mumbled, his expression making Hunter nervous, or disappointed, that Wrecker had had more than just a 'little snack' when they were low on food, "I forget… think I gathered at least a crate's worth from one of the late night shops for us. Got lots of soups that she likes, since I thought they might help while she recovers, too. No one feels like cookin' when they're going through some rough stuff." 

"I hope you didn't have perishables." Tech spoke up with a grimace, seeing the crate on the counter looking largely untouched.

"Oh Maker, let it go already." Echo grumbled, tweaking his scomp link and leg the way he normally did to ease the typical morning pains in his residual limbs. "That was one time. Do you really have to keep bringing that up? You wouldn't like me bringing up the last time you made a mistake. Like the time you played the mating call rather than the territorial call for that mission with Senator Binks on-" 

With the authoritative voice of a commanding officer, Hunter was quick to put an end to senseless posturing and provocation. "Enough. Both of you. We all have made mistakes on this team and it does us no good to badger our brothers about it like petty, personal grudges. This squad… needs to be sure we have each other's backs without questioning loyalty or our headspace all the time." Seeing the look on Omega's face, Hunter realized his words were perhaps harsher than he meant them, betraying inner feelings by indirectly bringing up their wayward brother. Questioning loyalty. Nobody had been questioning loyalty. He shouldn't have suggested that. 

Omega shuffled on her feet with a great deal of discomfort, blink-rate speeding up as she looked close to tears. "Hunter… That was too far."

He shouldn't have suggested that at all. "I'm sorry, ad'ika. You're right..." It was a meager apology, but it'd have to suffice for now. [____] was starting to stir behind Omega's back, a sharp and raspy crackle in her inhale. A warning: her lungs' irritation was probably stronger due to dehydration. "Omega get her some water, quickly." Maker, please don't be getting worse. "Easy, ad'ika, sit up slowly now. Take a slow, deep breath, Omega's getting you some water." The scavenger looked parched for certain, but she was also having trouble sitting up unassisted, her skin hot under Hunter's touch. Was her temperature spiking? "Maker, she's burning up." 

"Oh dear." Tech could be heard mumbling, hastily exiting his bunk with datapad in hand at Hunter's beckoning. "This does not look good. When was the last time her temperature was taken, Tech?" 

"My records say before dinner. It was elevated, but fevers generally rise later in the day so that is nothing unusual. Did you notice any increase in severity when you were awake with her last night, Wrecker?" 

Wrecker shook his head slowly, trying his best to think back before he himself had fallen asleep in front of his bunk for the night while [____] had slept in it. "I don't think so, Tech… she just looked like she was in more pain than anything an' couldn't sleep, didn't really think it was the fever." He wasn't comforted by the look that crossed Tech and Hunter's faces, unsure how those expressions meant anything other than worry as Tech brusquely stalked across the room to locate a temp-reader in Echo's medical crate. "Awh man… Did I screw up?" Did I make her worse?

Tech was careful to say nothing while he assessed both skin and oral temperatures with the reader and made a note of it in a data log, considering the weight and tone of his words while seeking answers. "Her temperature has climbed quite high now… You, hmm, were just making the best judgment call at the time, Wrecker. Based on what you said, I suspect that the pain was a result of rising fever. I was not awake to observe anything, so I can't speak with complete certainty other than assure you you did not "screw up"... and had only tried to help as you were asked. She will be fine." 

That was the most important thing. She would be fine, he hadn't done anything to make her worse that couldn't be taken care of easily enough here at Cid's Parlor. "Good… tha's good." Wrecker mumbled softly, feeling unfettered relief in those words from his brother while the scavenger was coached to take a careful swallow of water from a hydropack by Hunter. 

"Aw, don't look so w-worried, Wreck… I'll- khoff! - be okay." [____] remarked softly, cautious of the dry wheeze in her lungs when she spoke. "Jus' have to uh… t-take it pretty easy for a while, probably. Oh. Cid's not gonna be happy about that…" 

"Heh!" Wrecker scoffed, trading places with Hunter so he could get up and sort out breakfast for the six of them, "Don't you worry about Cid. You just leave her to me and focus on gettin' better again, ad'ika. Which, uh, hopefully won't take long if you're past the contagious period... right?" He nudged Tech with the edge of his elbow carefully, asking in a roundabout way if he had any idea. 

Adjusting his eyewear, Tech lifted the datapad to his face and puzzled over some numbers for a moment.

"She is past the most contagious period, correct. I would estimate… another five days of current symptoms without running additional tests. Perhaps after we've all had something to eat, I can do the additional health scans and find out what this infection is," he paused for just a moment, chewing half of his bottom lip in thought. "If that's what [____] wants." Tech added with some hesitation, making efforts to be careful of his words since Hunter had given everyone one of his many flavors of knock it off speeches. "There's time to think about it. If you'll excuse me, I believe I'll go help Hunter prepare things for breakfast. Echo, you haven't hidden any medical paraphernalia in the shelving by the cold-unit again, have you?" 

"Don't think so, but I oughta check." Tech and Echo exited the sleeping quarters, leaving just Wrecker and Omega to keep the sick scavenger company until the morning meal had been completed, whether it was a rare morning something was cooked, or everyone just had a portion of a ready-made meal from one of the shops parceled out to them. (There's only so much nutrient paste a sentient being can stomach before they long for real, identifiable foods.) The last time to [____]'s memory the Batch tried to do a little cooking, it'd been something typical of the foodstuffs they'd grown up on on Kamino, and Cid was, puzzlingly, none too pleased about the smell. Everything smelled fine to the scavenger at the time with the foodstuffs, so the situation pitted employee and employer against each other, one of the few times that the members of the Batch had seen their friend they'd hardly known long at that point very angry. 

Hoo boy, had that been a sight to see: the generally quiet and kind scavenger drawn up to her full height in all her fury, lashing back at Cid for unfairly critiquing the cuisine these Clones had been raised on when the Trandoshan herself hated remarks about the kinds of lunches she often ate from the Kashyyyk system and her home planet. It wasn't often that Cid's employees stood up to her, but at least when they did, Cid was likely to give them a couple of days of space (and maybe some degree of love-bombing) to let the troubled waters settle again. 

That didn't sound too bad, actually. Maybe get everyone on board to pretend her condition was a little worse than it actually was, give Cid a little pushback about needing to, y'know, really make sure everyone stayed healthy, and relent to the idea proposed yesterday that her friends would help take care of her while she was fighting this "rough" virus in the meantime. 

Noting the growing smile, Wrecker just chuckled softly with some degree of confusion, curiosity getting the best of the gentle giant. "Whatcha smiling about, kid?" 

"Oh… I think there's a way I can make sure it's more than just me who's getting time off for being sick." [____] mused idly, a second smile lazily blooming across her face as she made a casual lean into Wrecker's well-muscled chest after he'd put an arm around her and Omega once she sat down on his bunk on his other side at his offering. "I'll leave Cid to you, don't worry Wreck, but I've got a good idea of what to say that will get her to listen… I've known Cid long enough. Enough to make her nervous." 

It was all she had to suggest. 

And not long after breakfast, suddenly that rare component for an N-1 Starfighter the scavenger had been tasked with finding for a pushy client with deep pockets could almost miraculously wait just a little longer.

[wuxiaphoenix]

Colors of Another Sky Worldbuilding: Flint vs. Match

Necessary caveat: Not a gun expert, nor do I play one on TV. I have almost no practical experience with firearms. (One day I want to have enough hobby money aside to visit a gun range and impose on them to show me All The Things.) I have, however, tried to get a handle on what kind of firearms were historically bouncing around Northeast Asia about 1550-1650. Most of those, even in European hands, would have been matchlocks.

There’s an account from Xu Guangqi (yes, that Xu Guangqi) in Ming China about 1605 of an arquebus that can “use stone to ignite fire”. There’s another mention in the official record of the Joseon dynasty that on the 12th of July, 1631 (the 9th year of King Injo), a magistrate sent a flintlock musket to the king as a potential trade item. This is the first known flintlock in Joseon. King Injo, worried about the Jurchen/Manchu threat, wanted to mass-produce flintlocks, but the court... resisted. As we now know, bad call.

So. Matchlock vs. flintlock. These terms don’t actually refer to specific types of guns. They refer to how the gun ignites and fires.

In brief: Gunpowder down the muzzle. Wadding and bullet down the muzzle. Gunpowder in the priming pan. Then, and only then, do they differ.

A matchlock has a burning slow match. (Yes, technical term.) A thick fuse you’ve already set alight, attached to the serpentine (looks like the hammer on a more modern gun). When you pull the trigger it slams the match into the pan, setting that ablaze, which puts fire through the touchhole, which sets off the main charge, which shoots the bullet.

A flintlock has gunflint. Pull the trigger, it slams the flint against the steel frizzen to make a spark. Ignition proceeds, boom.

So. Advantages versus disadvantages?

Overall and in the long run, a flintlock is advantageous. First, so long as you don’t bust up your gun, the flint’s not consumed by being used. Slow match is. Second, if rain or accident soaks your flint, you can dry it out and use it later. Slow match, not so much. Third, whenever the match slams into the pan, there’s a chance it’ll go out and you’ll need to relight it. Flint doesn’t have that problem. Fourth, with a flint there are no sparks until you fire. Meaning you can sneak up on an enemy position in low visibility without slow match blinking like a swarm of fireflies.

Less supplies needed, less chance of going wrong, more sneakiness potential. All of these mean that if you have a choice on the battlefield, take the flintlocks.

However. The main characters in Colors are not soldiers. They are monster hunters.

There are monsters against which mass artillery is your best bet. In which case they’re likely to commandeer the nearest hwacha. They are definitely not averse to guns, or the most modern tech they can get their hands on. Yet they’d hesitate to switch to flintlocks. Because flintlocks don’t have slow match.

This is where the magic aspect kicks in. Monsters (and cultivators) have weaknesses, effectively banes; things that really don’t agree with how their body runs and heals itself. Cultivator banes vary, and individuals generally find ways to work around them. Monster banes tend to be more predictable. Silver, hawthorn, cold iron, various purifying herbs and the like. Some of these can be added to ammo, but herbs make terrible alloys. Slow match, on the other hand, is made from vegetable fiber, usually cotton, soaked in a flammable solution. Herbs and hawthorn could be in that solution, or even woven in as part of the fiber itself. With the added benefit that if you have said match on you, burning or not, a vulnerable monster may hesitate to close in and shred you to pieces.

This also means if you know what you’re hunting, you can switch out your match for the best bane you’ve got. It complicates logistics but it can save a monster hunter’s life.

Likewise, think. If you’re hunting monsters at night, you run a very real risk of shooting your fellow hunters by accident. If everyone’s carrying burning match, you have a visual marker telling you don’t shoot.

There’s another more subtle magical aspect that can affect the battlefield. Skilled craftsmen cultivators can work an array into an object, to be set off under certain conditions. Smoke from your slow match might be part of said conditions. Although given the time and expertise needed, this would probably still be more specialty weapons for officers and sneaky troops.

If you’re wondering about flintlocks/matchlocks versus cultivators or other magic users? A bullet’s a bullet, dangerous to anyone, and an exploding iron shell is one of the known ways to kill a pesky enemy cultivator. (And anyone else standing in fifty-odd feet.) AKA while some cultivators can survive incredible injuries, even a stab to the heart, assume the Chunky Salsa Rule applies.

There are magical ways to defeat gunfire, most of which boil down to don’t get hit. Some cultivators can form elemental shields, stopping bullets with a sheer mass of water or stone. Some play tricks with gravity. Some can form portals that whip the bullet or shrapnel off Somewhere Else. But all of these depend on a cultivator knowing they’re about to get shot with enough time to react. Mind, they can react supernaturally fast, but....

(If you’re getting the idea that John Wick would be a very real threat to even a powerful cultivator - yes. Yes he would.)

Aaaand then there are demons.

The Chunky Salsa Rule does not apply to demons.

In this AU, one of the reasons the Ming Dynasty hasn’t been as grabby for northern territory as they were IRL is, there are demons there. Daehan, and their Demon-Callers, are a buffer between Ming and things you need a flamethrower to stop.

...Well, they haven’t been as grabby yet. The Ming are dealing with the Jesuits. They have access to gunflints.

Oh boy.

Shoutout to Kateriobrian; hope this is what you had in mind! ;)

[limesandcoconuts]

Ranking RTTE Seasons

This list might offend some people 😬😬 here goes nothin

6) Season 1

Season 1 isn't bad - the first episode is actually one of my favourites - it's just it was more of a taster, a dip in the water shall we say. No huge plots or anything, everything's mostly being introduced. But still fun.

Fave episodes: Eye of the Beholder, Imperfect Harmony, Gone Gustav Gone, Have Dragon Will Travel Pt. 2

5) Season 3

Again, nothing wrong with Season 3 - hello?? Buffalord Soldier?? Flawless - but just purely out of the most memorable episodes and most enjoyable episodes, wasn't as much as some of the other seasons. But RTTE is perfect so Season 3 is still top notch TV 😩

Fave episodes: Buffalord Soldier, A Grim Retreat, Defenders of the Wing Pt. 1

4) Season 4

I feel like I'm committing a crime ranking this one so low because this season is so good but somehow the others are even better (idk how no one is talking about RTTE outside of the Httyd random). For me, there were a couple of great filler episodes but there was also great plot related episodes. I just think apart from the the Hiccstrid episodes and maybe one other, i don't think about this season much, I rewatch the other ones a lot more. That's not to say it isn't good because the episodes i do watch are *chef's kiss*. How can we forget this season is the long awaited birthplace of Hiccstrid??

Fave episodes: Gruff Around the Edges, Not Lout, The Longest Day, Out of the Frying Pan, Blindsided, Shell Shocked Pt. 1 & 2

3) Season 6

For me, a lot of my nostalgia for this show lies in the earlier seasons (1-3) so how it went was I lost touch with the Httyd fandom for a couple years (around 2018) and then came back in 2020 after RTTE Seasons 5/6 and Httyd 3 had been released so I kinda missed out on the hype for it which is really annoying because as season 6 is the finale, I feel like it would've been a great high for the fandom. And then Httyd 3 was the ultimate finale but that's a story for another day. Anyways, I enjoyed a lot of episodes in this season, filler and plot. I think the episodes were enjoyable and it was a very well done send off to the show, i mean the final battle/epilogue always makes me emotional for some reason. Plus, all the little Hiccstrid moments were so cute this season, i mean, the hair touches?? Too much. I also liked how they tied everything up to Httyd 2 quite perfectly, with Drago, Valka, the Bewilderbeast and other small details - it was well thought out.

Fave episodes: All Bark, No Bite, A Gruff Separation, Mi Amore Wing, Family Matters, Darkest Night, Guardians of Vanaheim, King of Dragons Pt. 1 & 2

2) Season 2

This was a real toughie because Season 2 is such a great one, I mean it's nostalgic and so enjoyable and funny and there's so many great moments that happen. The filler episodes are so entertaining and the plot based ones were really interesting, I find season 2 to be so easily rewatchable. I also liked the subplots in the season between certain characters and i think it had some of the best stories.

Fave episodes: Team Astrid, Night of the Hunters Pt. 1 & 2, Bad Moon Rising, Snotlout Gets the Axe, The Zippleback Experience, Snow Way Out, Edge of Disaster Pt. 1 & 2, Maces and Talons Pt. 2

And finally...

1) Season 5 - My Favourite Season

I feel like a lot of people are gonna disagree with me on this bc i don't really see a lot of people talking about the episodes in season 5 much but what the hell. Season 5 was definitely my favourite season. The lighthearted episodes were just so goddamn rewatchable and good, most of my favourite episodes in this season are actually fillers. But I don't know why, there's something about the vibe of season 5 that i just love, it feels...calm?? In a way?? I don't know. But this season just has so many of my favourite moments in the show, maybe in the franchise.

Fave episodes: Living on the Edge, Sandbusted, Something Rotten on Beserker Island, Snotlout's Angels, A Matter of Perspective, Dawn of Destruction, The Wings of War Pt. 1 & 2, No Dragon Left Behind, Snuffnut.

And there ya go! Just a quick reminder that this is completely my opinion and how I feel about the seasons, definitely not saying any of this is a straight up fact.

Bonus: My Overall Fave Episodes:

Night of the Hunters Pt. 1 & 2, Bad Moon Rising, Buffalord Soldier, The Longest Day, Blindsided, She'll Shocked Pt. 1 & 2, Sandbusted, Snotlout's Angels, Dawn of Destruction, Mi Amore Wing, Darkest Night and King of Dragons Pt. 1 & 2.

Lemme know what you guys think!

[the-owl-house-takes]

"huntlow didnt get enough time to get developed properly" true statement, we were all robbed of a third season and a lot of character development and chracter dynamics for many many characters and so on but its irrelevant to me cus i still wouldnt like it if it was properly developed. i know myself, id still be ok w it being part of the series but i still wouldnt have any interest in it and would find ship art equally annoying just cus i dont like it.

"if hunter was with a boy/willow was with a girl-" irrelevant, thats a different ship with a different character. there is no argument, stay on topic.

"bi/pan erasure or something along those lines" it has nothing to do with their sexualities and i dont care about canon or your headcanons or the characters sexualities none of that is relevant i just dont like them together as a ship

"huntlow antis/huntlow haters" be real. people can just dislike stuff without it being a big spectacle. do you think i put huntlow anti on my job resume or my tinder profile??? its not an identity, its just an opinion (also this is a salt blog. why are there sharks in the ocean)

"hunter having trauma doesnt mean he cant love" the grass is green the sky is blue i still dont have to like the ship and i still think hunters trauma takes priority for most people when they make huntlow stuff, maybe idk i have the tag blocked but ive seen some stuff and i see lots of arguments abt this. yes willow can be a rock for hunter but shes not supposed to be his only rock, hunter needing a rock is not supposed to be the only time they talk or interact, and there are ways to talk about hunter and huntlow without making it only trauma-related. i dont like the trauma-unrelated stuff either its still boring to me.

"something about willow idk i feel like people focus more on hunter when they argue about huntlow so i dont actually know any arguments about willow" willow is an underrated character and i love her but i still dont have to like the ship and i feel like a lot of the time people treat willow in general like one of her best character traits is Likes Hunter, or like shes hunters rock to lean on but never spin that around and let hunter be willows rock, and more often than not, somehow???, hunters trauma is still involved in willows insecurities or its used as part of how she heals from those insecurities?? like. can a girl not just say 'im worried about not being strong enough and being a burden' and not get 'when i was working for belos something something i thought i wasnt strong enough and i was wrong so ur strong too' and something like that like. a lot of huntlow stuff is like that ngl.

"just block people/the tags" I AM but like. i can still dislike it. and im perfectly valid in saying i think its annoying when i go to the tags and more than half the posts i scroll through are blocked cus its huntlow. im perfectly valid in saying i dont like ship whether i have the tags blocked or not.

"people can ship whatever they want" no they cant because i said so. the sun revolves around me. god watches me, his special little guy, fart and immediately cries in joy and throws a celebration party. (but also people are allowed to not ship stuff too like. it goes both ways.)

"so what are people just not supposed to make huntlow fanstuff" yes. i never want to see huntlow ever again my life. (but actually dont do that keep making stuff itd be sad if people stopped)

"everything you say is insane" ya

-

[angelistic11]

Logan Lerman Is Learning to Love Hollywood

This is Logan Lerman’s first feature interview in almost two years. For an actor of his prominence and caliber, that’s a rarity. But despite almost two decades of playing leading roles in box office hits like the Percy Jackson & the Olympians film franchise and The Perks of Being a Wallflower, Lerman finds the act of promotion, specifically talking about himself, extremely off-putting. It’s one of the main reasons he can’t stand Hollywood. And it’s also why our conversation feels so refreshingly earnest. “Oftentimes, you look at the trades and see announcements for projects, and it’s all in vain,” Lerman tells me during a phone call from his West Hollywood home. “It’s just people trying to get attention for themselves and the projects aren’t real. And I don’t want to be that guy. I feel like I’m much quieter about the things I’m working on. That’s the way I like it.” That might explain why the public hasn’t seen Lerman in a major motion picture for almost 10 years. In this time, he’s maintained consistent work as a producer, but he’s wary to discuss anything coming down the line in detail. (“You never know if anything’s going to actually get made, never know if things are going to pan out,” he says, “And a million things can go wrong.”) Thankfully for Lerman, his long game of committing to the craft continues to pay off. Coming off of a movie premiere for his role inBullet Train, the second season of the Jordan Peele -produced series Hunters, and a calendar stacked with possible projects, life is relatively good for the tenured Hollywood actor. When it’s all said and done, he feels “great,” back at home in WeHo. The reason he finds himself back in his hometown of Los Angeles after a seven-year stint in New York City is a relatable one: he moved during the Covid-19 pandemic. Finding himself “trapped” during a visit metamorphosed into a second act in L.A., one that consisted of hiking, going to the beach with friends, and having the solace to sit down and develop new projects. But the list of reasons he’s happy to be back on the West Coast is accompanied by an even longer list of reasons he can’t stand his hometown, especially the culture the film industry has cultivated within it. “Everyone’s wrapped up in everyone else’s wants and puts this pressure on everyone to continue being in some conversation,” he says. “You have this desperate desire to be relevant.” Aware of the cynicism, he’s been working on shifting his perspective about the city, and finding new ways to appreciate it. “I’m lucky, though, that now, I have a really happy home and good lifestyle,” he adds.

Two years of few box office opportunities and very little work grounded Lerman back into a place of understanding why not everyone cannot take “risks” and “sacrifices.” Unless, of course, Brad Pitt’s on the line. “Brad Pitt is the only person who could justify a studio making a movie during a pandemic,” Lerman says. Along with corralling Joey King, Bad Bunny, Aaron Taylor Johnson, and Brian Tyree Henry, we can thank Pitt for Lerman’s role in the new movie Bullet Train —even if it is a small one. “I know Brad and I’ve been friends with him for years and love him,” Lerman says. So when the Hollywood mogul called him up in the middle of the pandemic, he couldn’t resist joining the project. “It was nice to have an excuse to go to work when nobody was really working. I was really lucky to be doing that,” he says. An action comedy in which five assassins battle each other on a Japanese bullet train, Lerman plays the son of White Death (Michael Shannon) whose unexpected murder along the ride results in a Weekend at Bernie’s -esque scheme by Tangerine (Aaron Taylor-Johnson) and Lemon (Brian Tyree Henry) to create the illusion that he is still alive.

He considered his time on set as a chance to “observe” the best in the business. “They’re doing the most exciting things with fight choreography, and to see them create these dances of sorts in such a tight space…[plus,] the beats of humor throughout the fight sequences are exceptionally well-crafted,” he says. Outside of this,Lermandoes not want anyone to assume that this is in any way more than just a guy doing some friends a favor. And that’s how he talks about all of his past works, big or small. His last lead as Charlie in The Perks of Being a Wallflower,the 2012 film adaptation of Stephen Chbosky’s book of the same name, had an impact on the zeitgeist of the late aughts, causing Lerman to rise to relevance simultaneously with the first iterations of social media. From Charlie riding through a tunnel in the bed of a truck to David Bowie’s Heroes, to gifs of him telling the manic pixie girl of his dreams, Sam (played byEmma Watson), “We accept the love we think we deserve,” images and videos of Lerman were reshared across Internet dashboards worldwide for years. He became the face of a generation expressing their adolescent angst in completely new ways. Even as social media has evolved, the relevance of Lerman’s impact has just been readapted to fit new platforms. On TikTok, both Perks and Lerman pop up in conversations around nostalgia and core memories (along with how he remains a major heartthrob thanks, in part, to his girlfriend Ana Corrigan’s social presence, and the content she posts of the two of them). It’s why the film remains one of Lerman’s fondest works, and, he says, is the kind of role that drives him. “That is a really special feeling, to be a part of something and know that it’s had a big impact on someone's life," he says. “I guess that’s the bar an actor hopes to reach: making something that means a lot to someone else.”

An executive producer on a few independent projects, Lerman is privy to the backend of getting a project off the ground. At the root, the biggest obstacle is, more often than not, money: both in creating the film and the reward financiers will see when it hits the box office. This is Lerman’s biggest gripe with the industry, merely because he doesn’t agree with it. He emphasizes more than once the value of independent films, unique storytelling, and how difficult it is to be heard in all the noise of the entertainment industry’s constantly shifting landscape. “It’s the most important side of the culture that I care about so much,” he says, “Seeing films in theaters, seeing original films get made, seeing new voices attract the financing to get their movies made.” But he would be remiss to remain cynical about it, especially during a time when independent filmmakers are taking risks that have been received with overwhelming praise. He points to Everything Everywhere All At Once, the Daniels film starring Michelle Yeoh, Stephanie Hsu, Jamie Lee Curtis, and Ke Hu Quan made with an independent film budget which received surmounting success. “[Viewers] want bolder choices,” he says. “They want new visions. They’re craving something new. I’m craving something.”

This enthusiasm for the future of film is infectious—so much so that I can’t imagine anyone rejecting an actor with a résumé of his caliber. Stepping into the spotlight at age 8 in The Patriot, followed by consecutive years as the lead in films like Hoot (which has a young Brie Larson), Stuck in Love, and The Three Musketeers, his credibility in Hollywood is unwavering. But rather than assuming everyone is familiar with his past projects, he approaches the conversation as if you’ve probably never heard of them. This humility feels like a mental tactic, one which helps him separate his identity from mega-movie star to, simply, an actor. It does not present itself in a pretentious manner—instead, it’s an evolution as a result of a lifetime of experience. “There are a lot of pressures here that are unique to Hollywood,” he continues. “I’ve had too much time to observe it. I’ve been trying to approach it with fresh eyes now.” The appreciation and sense of humility Lerman carries was something he had to learn and continues to work on. “You can’t avoid it. It’s just about recognizing it and keeping your values in line,” he says. In an industry known to absorb and destroy young talent, his approach to his work feels like a form of self-preservation. It’s also a relief to know that a person who’s had such an impact on late-aughts kids is doing alright. “Early on, it was harder for me to appreciate things,” he says. “I was too wrapped up in the newness of all of it, the newness of the entire experience of making things and being a part of things, and impacting people. But now I’m in a place where I try to enjoy it more: the entire process of being in a production and the release of it, and the impact it’s had on people.”

While the possibility of leading in a major motion film in the near future isn’t out of the question, Lerman is just fine where he is: knee-deep in preparation for the first of a slate of projects he'd begun working on during lockdown. It’s his favorite part of the process. “It’s been a really long journey, a long road so far,” he adds.“I’ve always loved it and it’s always been a passion of mine. Even though I've been doing it for so long, I still feel like I’ve just started, in a way.”

[earthbovndmisfit]

You know I used to be unable to vibe with Jonawagon mainly because of the one-sided narrative most of the fandom likes to push. It just felt so cruel that Speedwagon would fall for someone who would never reciprocate. Especially since the guy in question is Jonathan! People seem to think the guy would have been completely oblivious to Speedwagon's feelings for him, but Jonathan is very empathetic and observant. He would have known, and would have loved him back!

It makes me really happy to see that canonically the whole one sided thing isn't the case at all! And it's thanks to some of your posts that I know!

(Also the biggest insult is people calling Jonathan the straightest Jojo, this man is incredibly bi/pan af and they're just blind)

I'm honestly so happy to hear (read?) that I was able to contribute and change your views on the ship!! I'm a forgetful scatterbrain all the time, hence why there aren't as many posts about jonawagon as there should be from me, but I'm glad those that I've made have helped in shedding some light on the real depth and extent of their relationship! As a warning: This post is gonna be long and is gonna have some salt scattered here and there so, yeah. Y'all have been warned >:3

That whole false narrative that jonawagon "is and can only be one-sided" is something that has always rubbed me the wrong way since I got into the Jojo fandom years ago tbh because, the way people put it in those instances only shows that they aren't truly reading/watching Phantom Blood (and even Battle Tendency and the jonawagon bits it too offered!), or that they're just not paying attention to the many details in the story and just run along with the old and tired memes that many people love to parrot, with said memes being mostly based on those wrong assumptions people have made about the jojo parts and the characters, and which is why you often see lukewarm and false takes on PB/its characters, like Jonathan and Speedwagon being “pure, innocent, soft blushy bois”, or when people try to erase Speedwagon’s blatant homosexuality, or forcing the “himbo” label on either of them, the whole “Dio is not evil, he’s just misunderstood” takes, Erina being lumped in the “saint” category, too, Will Zepp being seen/used as a mere plot device and etcetcetc.

And, to be fair, this is an issue I often see with all Jojo parts, with the fanbase often reducing characters to Just One Trait, usually exaggerating it beyond recognition and taking is as canon, even in those cases where said trait isn't even part of the character's canon (like those mentioned before, or the "milf hunter Kak" one, "dolphin lover/Jolyne hater Jotaro", and etc etc etc). Like… I kinda get some of that being passed around as an unfunny joke, I guess?? But it soon becomes a serious issue when people start taking those ideas as truth, ditching the actual canon in favor of a fanon take and then claiming that fantake as canon. And it's worse when it comes to smaller and less popular parts like PB and BT, since there's already not enough people talking about them or giving them love, and from those who do, there's usually a bunch of people misinterpreting the whole thing, causing others to do the same, repeating the same misunderstandings, and it's literally a vicious circle. Even more troublesome considering the many existing differences between PB's manga and the anime, and the fact that most people will only watch the anime (which considerably did most characters dirty -Jonathan included- by snatching or even changing scenes that showed the characters' personalities and relationships in more depth and detail, making things appear plain "at best"). Heck, I mean, there's still people who think the main events in PB took place in the span of just a few days, that Jonathan and Spw only knew each other for mere weeks, when in reality the main part of PB takes place in the span of at least 5 to 6 months from the moment Dio starts poisoning George and until the very end of PB, meaning that Jonathan and Speedwagon knew each other and hung around together for at least 5-ish months, more than most Jojos and their "Jobros" did in their parts, for example. Come to think of it, I'd been working on an extensive PB timeline to detail all this but that I never posted but that should still be sitting in my drafts lol. not sure if anyone would be interested in it??

And it was kinda the same when it came to Jonawagon and the takes some people have on the ship, starting with the old and false view that "it can only be one-sided", or when some people are bold enough to state that "Jonathan never cared about Speedwagon" without taking into account that not only Speedwagon stands out as a support character for not being the "damsel in distress who needs to be saved every 5 seconds" and that he is also efficient enough to handle himself most of the time despite his lack of hamon or other supernatural abilities and thus doesn't need to be saved in every episode/chapter, but that, also, in those instances where he does happen to need some help, it is usually Jonathan who rushes to his side to help/protect him despite Jonathan being the one carrying the biggest burden of the group. Because, yes! people often forget that Jonathan was dealing with a lot at the time, including being forced to kill, but even then he still made the time and had the head space to be there for Speedwagon, just like Spw was there for him always. And, really, just to name a few of those instances:

There's the different instances during the fire at the mansion like how the first time Jonathan actually kills he does it without hesitation to save Speedwagon, how he later embraced Speedwagon and took him to safety -putting himself in danger in the process- before the fire actually started, or how Jona then forces Spw away from him and from the flames and literally puts his own life on the line by baiting and luring Dio's attention away from Spw so he can escape safely (an action that we only see Jonathan do once more later on with Erina on the boat, near the end of PB), the fight against Jack The Ripper when Spw gets injured by one of JTR's knives and how Jonathan is the first to react, being shown as shocked and worried and rushing to him on the spot, and the fact that it was implied it was Jonathan who healed him, since Zeppeli and Spw were still hostile towards each other by this point (another thing people miss in PB is the hostility and legit shit talking there was between Zepp and Spw in pretty much all their interactions, too), and this is also applied to later instances where Spw could have been potentially injured while fighting zombies, being Jonathan the one who most likely used his hamon techniques to heal him. Same when Zeppeli "accidentally missed" the hamon activation spot and simply punched Spw in the guts, the anime doesn't fully show it but in the manga Jonathan is shown to have immediately rushed to Spw's side while Robert was on the ground before Poco showed up. Heck, even stuff like them being Extra while handing over the Luck & Pluck sword when they reach Dio's chamber shows the mutual communication that exists between Jona and Spw and that they are in full sync despite the emotional distress their group is suffering with due to Zepp's death and the shock from Dire's brutal passing too. Same with the sole fact that Jonathan not only trusted Spw with their money (the one they were carrying in the bag that Poco tried to steal), but also with such a higly valuable and irreplaceable object like the Luck & Pluck sword. And this too traces back to when they meet for the first time, as they started bonding ever since that 3-day-long ride they spent together from London to Liverpool (the fact that Speedwagon knew everything by the time they reached the Joestar estate suggests that there was a mutual trust and caring between them already by then, as a good deal of all that was shown to have been quite sensitive information).

Same when you take the time to notice the subtleties and subtext in the way Jonathan addresses Spw. Some of these kinda get lost in the translations, so it's understandable they might fly over people's heads if they don't speak Japanese or don't know about the etiquette applicable to both Japanese and (Victorian) English, but I'm gonna try to cover some of that here, since I've never seen it being actually discussed.

People often assume that Jonathan and Speedwagon were 1000% Proper And Gentlemanly All The Freaking Time towards each other without realizing that both use varying degrees of informal speech. Jonathan does it occasionally, Speedwagon does it A LOT. And you can even infer that from the fact that Jonathan has always struggled with manners and to overall fit in with what "a proper gentleman" in his time should be like. In Speedwagon's case, it can be inferred from the fact that he's basically a gang leader from the lowest and darkest parts of the slums and him just… never fully acting "proper" for a gentleman from his time (and yes, this also includes his gayass actions towards Jonathan, as that kind of thing was considered "highly improper for a man" back then).

Spw referring to Jonathan as "san" ("Joestar-san") in the original and not "sama" nor referring to him as "lord/sir" like Spw does when he's talking about George I i.e, denotes a sense of closeness between Jonathan and him despite the mandatory Victorian etiquette of addressing people by their last names (i'll explain a bit more about this in the next point). The "san" honorific denotes respect and a sense of "equality" between the speaker and the receiver, too and which is usually denoted further by context.

The fact that Spw uses "Joestar" instead of "Jonathan" in a lot of instances responds to the fact that, in Victorian times, it was considered incredibly rude to address others by their first name, especially in public, save for veeery specific cases, which I'll explain next, and which is also a rule in the Japanese language. Generally speaking, both languages have a Last-Name/First-Name basis.

Those specific cases I mentioned were reserved for family and lovers and, with that in mind, it's also worth noting that there are at least a couple times where Spw refers to Jonathan as "Jojo" on screen!! Not even his name, but his nickname! shouting it, and in a crowded room in one of those instances, no less. With all that in consideration, this would suggest that he did this a lot more times offscreen as well, when they were in private and didn't have to adhere to the etiquette as much or at all.

It is also important to remark here that Speedwagon's only name in canon was just "Speedwagon" when PB's manga was being serialized. His other name(s) were never mentioned in the story, and the anime kept that the same (some subs/dubs include his full name for some reason?? but no, it's never actually mentioned in the original). The rest of his name -Robert E.O.- (with the E. and the O. never being disclosed what they stand for, btw) was disclosed in his canon bios only, along with his birthday date and other basic info, and including stuff that had already been shown in canon as well, sometime after the manga had started being published. So, technically, Jonathan has been calling him for his first name all the time! At least according to the info available in the manga. But that's not all! There's a little more that suggest a deeper bond and relationship between them and that Araki deliberately put there to make this distinction…

…And that's the fact that Jonathan doesn't use any honorifics whenever he calls Speedwagon's name. This overlaps somewhat with what I mentioned earlier about Victorian etiquette as, in Japanese, it's a grave insult to address another person without using any honorifics -san, chan, kun, etc- unless you are either family with the other person or you are close/intimate with them. Basically, no honorifics between two persons without any negative connotations means and gives away that there's a special bond and a deep level of intimacy between the persons involved in those instances where the two are not family (siblings, parents, etc).

Plus, add the fact that male homosexuality was a huge taboo and actually illegal and punisheable by the law in Victorian England, and you'll understand why a man addressing another man -especially if there was anything romantic or close to it between them- by his last name in public was mostly a necessity to "keep the appearances".

Same when people -usually haters and dudebros tbh- try to dismiss or downplay their relationship and the importance of it by saying stuff like "they didn't even know each other long enough" and ignoring the fact that, as stated before, they knew each other and hung around together longer than most other Jojos and their respective "Jobros" in other parts did.

Needless to talk about Speedwagon's feelings for Jonathan and the many MANY instances where he -shamelessly- shows and even speaks about them because, well, IT'S SO VERY OBVIOUS and has even been acknowledged not only by himself in his dialogues, mentioning his own deep fondness for Jonathan at least twice, but it's also been addressed in his canon bios and other official Jojo media. Or when their seiyuus have also discussed the topic, sometimes in official Jojo shows and etc like Jojo Radio (heck, even the voice actor in the US dub has talked about Speedwagon being gay and his feelings for Jonathan in some of his interviews and press conferences too, lol), addressing the chemistry both characters have and how important they are to each other, sometimes even speaking In Character while doing so.

So, yeah, there's always been a mutual respect and understanding between Jonathan and Speedwagon, along with lots of mutual love and caring that is shown through their actions, even the smallest ones, like them watching each other's backs over and over again, sharing similarities but also plenty of differences, their bonding from the very beginning of their story together, helping each other grow and become a better version of themselves, giving themselves time to grieve and providing each other with the opportunities and the comfort to do so, stepping in to fill in what the other might be lacking, taking care of each other and even tending to each other's wounds (physical and emotional, because yes! it was also implied that Jonathan most likely did his mourning by Spw's side, since even in BT there were plenty of things Erina didn't know a single thing about and that Robert DID know), teaching each other new things about the world around them and just growing and improving together. All this while there's also plenty other things implied through their mannerisms and "small" things such as the way they address each other while in public, which only speaks further and reveals what kind of close relationship and actual bond they developed in private ever since they met in Ogre Street. A bond so deep and strong it lasted for decades, throughout generations, leaving a huge mark on the world even long after both passed away, and which can be attested for with the existence of the Speedwagon Foundation, for example, and the fact that it was born out of that love and it was literally a monument to that bond between them and the unyielding love that cemented it.

And yeah!! I absolutely agree with you, Anon!! Jonathan is a lot more perceptive and sensitive towards other people's feelings than people give him credit for, and a good proof of that would be the later part of his fight against Bruford, for instance. So, just like it happened between him and Erina, Jonathan would have definitely noticed Speedwagon's feelings towards him (assuming he hadn't yet during those months of peace and quiet after the trip to Windknight's Lot), even more so considering how freaking obvious and not subtle at all Robert is when it comes to Jonathan and, based on what's been discussed here so far, I have no doubts he would definitely reciprocate those feelings.

In general, some pining is fine, and I actually love some of that when it's done right, too. The ship even kind of allows for some pining and angst (especially with Jonathan's early -unfair and cruel, too- passing away :c), just not in the Strictly One-Sided way that some folks keep pushing after over-looking a good deal of the characters' traits and the actual depth of their relationship. If you ask me?? The real kind of pining I'd see between them would be mutual pining, both being in love but being afraid to ruin things between them despite the Very Obvious signs (as a gay guy myself, I can tell you: We are pretty fucking dumb sometimes when it comes to love), a fear aided by the rigid views of their time towards romances between men and the consequences this could have, and thus keeping quiet about the true depth and nature of their feelings, letting them go unsaid but always letting them show regardless until one of them finally gives in and lets it out with all its words, whether it is planned or entirely by accident. This also aided by the fact that Jonathan is also in love with Erina, and the fact that he comes from a "traditional" household, so there's always the possibility that he might need a liiittle help from our fave gay icon Robert Speedwagon to come to terms with his feelings and finally come out, and so on.

Lastly, I often got the "but what about Erina??? And the lineage????" whenever I mentioned jonawagon being 100% plausible and possible in canon, to which I can only say: Just take a look at the true friendship that blossomed between Erina and Speedwagon in Battle Tendency and the fact that the two have always loved Jonathan openly and to their fullest. They've always wanted the best for Jonathan, wanted him to be happy, always doing everything in their power to ensure that and fulfill his wishes and dreams, with Jojo doing the same in return for them when he was alive. That shared love they felt for Jonathan is what ultimately brought Erina and Speedwagon together as friends despite their not-so-happy start when they met in the hospital (another scene the anime chopped out, sadly), with them being alright, even happy, with the other's feelings for Jonathan. All this suggests and shows that both Jonaeri and Jonawagon can definitely coexist without interfering with each other nor negating the existence of the other and without forcing some unnecessary romance between Erina and Speedwagon or erasing Speedwagon's homosexuality in the process. Basically, the two ships can definitely exist/coexist together, at the same time, as a happy V-polycule/menage a trois and which, as i've mentioned before, were a thing among some circles in Victorian times, where a happy married m/f couple would live along with the husband's "close friend" -the husband's boyfriend, actually- under the same roof, all with the consent of the three of them, raising any children the married couple had together and forming their own little family, with the wife and the husband's boyfriend being on friendly terms, and so on. Sooooo, yeah. As opposed to what some people might believe, it wouldn't be out of character for them, nor it'd be inaccurate for their times either!!

[tearsofgrace]

endings are hard... but they aren’t impossible

tldr; the good place fucking nailed the finale, supernatural completely and utterly bombed it.

tags: wc--4.5k, gif heavy, spn meta, the good place, supernatural finale, spn wank, all gifs are mine, if you read til the end there’s a pretty gif

so i recently finished the good place (i was watching w my family and we finally had time to sit down and watch the last season) and god fucking dammit that ending is FLAWLESS. literally flawless. 

and because i’m, well, me… i spent most of the time during that hour long finale thinking about how supernatural could have had even a fraction of that and avoided so much heartbreak. 

anyways. i decided to compare them. to REALLY compare them. to get into the nitty gritty of why the fuck the good place ending left me feeling, as the finale is all about, sated and complete. and why the spn ending left me confused, lost, broken, betrayed, unable to even enjoy my comfort show at all until a dear friend finally just watched an episode (8.08) start to finish with me. 

so without further ado (always wanted to say that) here’s the good place/supernatural finale meta that no one asked for

comedy

we’ll start small. both these shows have excellent comedy. in extremely different ways… but still

in the good place finale, the comedy was perfect. whether it was jason reappearing in the forest, michael trying to get through The Door, tahani reversing the “hot bod” bit on eleanor, every comedic moment was actually pretty emotional and added something to the show. they deepened characters’ meanings, added to their relationships, and made the audience think as much as they made the audience laugh.

in the spn finale… the comedy was the pie gag. the whole sam shoving pie into dean’s face. beyond this being… like meta as hell (the whole prank thing) it doesn’t have any depth to it.

and to add salt to the wound, this “hilarious” thing happens RIGHT AFTER salmondean have a conversation about missing jack and cas that is equal parts flat and infuriating. the brothers, in particular sam about jack and dean about cas, should care more. this is their family. and family is everything to them. but, no, by all means pie dean in the face.

last lines

this one IRKS me. okay. 

the last line of the good place  "I'll say this to you, my friend, with all the love in my heart and all the wisdom of the universe: Take it sleazy.” “All right.”  is ICONIC. okay?

it’s a reference to season 1 that doesn’t feel fan-servicey. it’s kinda honestly emotional cuz it’s like a message to us, the audience. it perfectly completes michael’s arc. it captures the light-hearted vibe of the show while also somehow managing to be poignant. you can see it coming like the second before it happens but it’s also not the obvious choice. it’s just. goddamn it’s good.

the last line of supernatural…. is… “and cut.” not even said by one of j2. i mean i know it’s a meta show but COME ON ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME??????????

now i hear you shouting wait but that’s just the end of the thank you message. okay fine whatever. in that case the last lines are “Hey, Sammy.” “Dean.” (i couldn’t bring myself to gif that moment)

i’m sorry but. that’s predictable. that’s obvious. that’s boring. that’s flat. sure, it celebrates the bond between the brothers. but like… that’s not what this show is about anymore. it’s not just about sam and dean winchester it’s about what they’ve created. it’s about the world they’ve saved, the family they’ve made, about how they always keep fighting but nope we get bland, boring, coulda seen ‘em coming from miles away lines for the very end. that’s fine.

montages

the spn finale is like 50% montages that don’t make sense and are poorly done and not emotional

the good place has a montage of michael being human that brought me to tears

timing

here’s another short section. the good place finale was 53 minutes long as opposed to the usual 20 minute long runtime of every episode. granted, the fandom of the good place is very different, but STILL there was no documentary telling the fans things they ALREADY knew (there was a short special after the ep, but the episode itself was still far longer than normal). it was 53 minutes of plot. of really fucking good not rushed plot. 

the supernatural finale was… what 36 minutes long?? as opposed to the normal 40 minute runtime?? granted, we did get an hour long documentary of things we’ve all heard in cons and interviews a billion times so hey. take what you can get i guess.

character arcs

this is most of the meat of this meta. one thing we’ve all been harping on a TON is how they RUINED character arcs. soooo let’s go through and juxtapose some character arcs shall we

eleanor

eleanor shellstrop starts the show completely self-obsessed. she died getting hit by shopping carts while picking up margarita mix and let’s be real she’s a total icon. love her to death. she grows a ton, becomes one of the most selfless characters on the show, and starts to actually (jack forbid) CARE about things. it’s one of the most satisfying and relatable character arcs i’ve ever seen. 

it’s not just her selfishness either, her character is super multi-faceted and complex, and i feel like even in the end we’re getting to know her better. she’s afraid of commitment, always worried about what others’ actions will do to her, loves the trivial side of life, is queer as fuck (as acknowledged by the show in a way that’s not harmful at all but also isn’t explicitly bi/pan/unlabeled/omni etc, allowing queer fans to see their own identity in her), and is all around a HUMAN BEING. her ending at the beginning of the show was her death. her stupid, trivial, meaningless death where she was, as she puts it, all alone. and her final ending ISNT that. yes, everyone goes before her. and i think that’s purposeful. to show that she’s grown enough that being alone in some sense is okay.

but she’s never TRULY alone. and in the end. the REAL end. janet is there. the whole time. because eleanor asked her to be!! she got over her crazy need for independence and simply asked for help. and eleanor dies an amazing person that has become selfless, has found joy in philosophy while still enjoying trashy content, has fixed her relationship with her mother, and has found a sense of completion. eleanor’s life ends on her terms, and it’s beautiful.

dean

alright. now just as you’re feeling all warm and fuzzy let’s look at dean winchester’s ending. you’ve heard it a million times, so i’ll be brief. dean was raised to be a hunter, a soldier, a killing machine with no feelings and no purpose. he was raised to die scared on a hunt, his life over because of some mistake he made because he will NEVER measure up. at least that’s what john and everyone else told him with the exceptions of some of his family (and family don’t end in blood). he started to accept that he didn’t have to have this. he started to realize that he could CHOOSE what his ending was. 

the beautiful thing is, we never truly got to see what that was. i personally like to think it’s similar to the roadhouse michael locked him in while he was trapped in his own mind. a safe place for hunters, somewhere he (and cas in my opinion, but that’s not important) could settle down and still be in the life. it would be an amazing tribute to jo and ellen, and just all around a great ending. he wouldn’t have to be scared, but he wouldn’t have to conform to some apple pie facade of normalcy. and ya know what?? say that he died so he could have peace i dare you. because dean doesn’t find peace until sam is there anyway so i beg of you WHAT WAS THE FUCKING POINT. 

dean winchester died scared. dean winchester died on a hunt. dean winchester died on one of john’s old hunts. dean winchester died not directly at the hands of a monster, but at the hands of a mistake. his mistake. dean winchester died without ever working through the trauma of his best friend in the entire world confessing his love in a final act of self-sacrifice. dean winchester died in a way that leaves a sour taste in my mouth and does not at all show the audience what he’s been through and how much he’s grown. dean winchester did not die on his terms, and he deserved better.

chidi

okay back to happy. chidi anagonye. by far my personal favorite good place character (don’t tell anyone i always say jason cuz he and i are very similar). chidi in the last few episodes is SO DRASTICALLY different than the chidi we meet at the beginning. he’s decisive, confident, self-assured, and it’s amazing to see. he’s not afraid of life anymore. he’s not afraid to make the wrong decision and forever alter his reality, because he’s okay with failure. 

at the beginning, chidi was so petrified of life that… it killed him. and in the end, he’s completely at peace with every decision he makes, even the final one. yes, he considered staying for eleanor, but that just shows how his moral code and his compassion for others is still very much still intact. it shows the audience that you can be confident and decisive without being a selfish asshole. 

chidi leaves the good place knowing that it’s the right thing to do. knowing without a doubt that his time has come. the old chidi never would have been able to fathom being that sure about something. it’s beautiful. it’s a development that can give the audience peace, can show them that this drastic of change is possible, and that chidi became a better person for all of it. chidi went on his own terms, and it was beautiful.

sam

… this one might be controversial… but sam winchester. god i hated sam’s ending. at first i was kinda okay with it. like, okay fine he got his normal life. but, really, in the end that’s not what sam wanted. he started to realize that he didn’t need that apple pie, white picket fence life. he didn’t need the wife and the kids and the backyard and the barbecues because that is NOT sam’s personality and i will throw hands on that. 

that’s not to say he doesn’t want some sort of romance, maybe even kids, but not in that way. he lets himself see that he doesn’t need to be defined by his rebellion to john. doesn’t need to be defined by going to college or any of those “normal” smart kid things because it doesn’t fit him. and that’s okay! but how does sam’s story end? it ends with a wife (that isn’t even important enough to show her face). with kids. with a goddamn white picket fence. we think he’s still hunting to some extent… but it’s not the arc we were led to believe would happen. it’s not this amazing leader sam that we see in season 12-14, uniting hunters and organizing them. 

he had SO MUCH potential and they throw it away on a vanilla ending that shows only surface level pain at losing his brother. he doesn’t even invite the rest of their family to the wake for fuck’s sake. jared did an incredible job. pls don’t think i’m saying he didn’t. but that script…. sam winchester’s arc was cut short. he didn’t go on his terms, and he deserved better.

jason

jason mandoza. the only character that has ever embodied my complete dumbass energy to the insane extent that it exists. he went to hell for his impulsivity. he never thought before a decision. i aspire to be as reckless as jason while on earth. but he LEARNED. he got better, just like they all did. and by the end of the show, jason doesn’t need to be impulsive anymore. much like eleanor being left “alone,” the show does a masterful job with making him be the first one to go, capturing his old impulsiveness. but he chooses to leave. he takes his time in deliberation, waiting until a feeling of peace, of completion, of well, ‘true happiness’ (sorry cas stans, i’m right there with you) has settled over him. 

the ending of his story is one of growth, just like all these characters have been. and the best part? the show makes it comedic in the most poignant and beautiful way, because it’s jason, it had to be funny. we learn that jason has been in the woods for like, eons, just waiting to go through the door because he wants to give janet a necklace. he’s learned to simply wait. to be at peace with… nothing. his torture was being a monk, but in the end, jason embodies those ideals. his arc comes to fruition in an extremely satisfying way. jason goes on his own terms, and it’s beautiful.

castiel

this one is gonna hurt like a bitch. castiel is my comfort character. he’s my role model. he’s me in a lot of ways. i love him. so fucking much. so excuse me if this is slightly incoherent. i’m actually okay with cas’ ending… in a way. because his actual ending as an on-screen character? perfect. self-sacrifice while coming out and professing his love to dean winchester. a little bit bury the gays, but let’s be real, it’s supernatural. and “happiness is in just saying it” has to be the most powerful way to think of coming out. it takes away the fear, it takes away so much of the pain that can follow. because the joy is in just saying the words.

it’s how this was treated on the show that makes cas’ character arc terrible (and we haven’t even gotten to 15.20). YOU CANNOT JUST IGNORE A LOVE CONFESSION. that is god awful writing and i will never change my mind on that. cas deserved his family to care about him. to at least address and be sad about the fact he was gone. jesus fucking christ after everything castiel deserved at least that. and then we go to 15.20. cas is in heaven. cas is serving god. cas is right back where he started. now, i’m coming off a little strong. 

if the show had decided to show us cas and jack in heaven makin’ the world a better place… i woulda come around to it. i woulda realized that that’s not REALLY erasing 12 years of character development and cas realizing that his whole identity isn’t just him serving heaven and isn’t just him being an angel and that he’s so much more than all of that and he could still be happy as a human… because really he’s with his son. but they didn’t show us that. they barely even mentioned him. and to me. that counts as a bad character arc. and i’m sorry if you disagree. castiel may have gone on his own terms, but they treated that beautiful sacrifice with disrespect and disdain, plus resolved his arc by putting him back where he started. he deserved better.

tahani

*deep breaths guys this is a long post i’m sorry* anywayyyy tahani!!! we love tahani obviously. let’s talk about her arc, because it always kinda bothered me. throughout the show, we see all the other character’s growing and expanding their knowledge of right and wrong. and, don’t get me wrong. we see tahani grow a lot. but she makes a lot of the same types of comments and shit like that. but it’s how she treats the reactions to those comments. by the end of the show, she laughs at the caricature of herself that the others see. she isn’t looking for vindication in name-dropping, she just does it. she is far less self-absorbed, and is genuinely interested in those around her. she fixes her relationships with her sister and her parents in a way that doesn’t feel forced and actually feels like a beautiful, healthy family reunion. 

she has a list and she does everything on it. it’s worth noting, that the things on her list are not at all what they would have been at the beginning of the show. most of them are humble “labor” type tasks, and all of them are in self improvement. tahani’s end on the show is not the same as everyone else’s. she realizes that she doesn’t need to be done. that there doesn’t have to be an end to self-improvement. and she becomes an architect. the writers perfectly embody her transformation from a self-obsessed rich girl who has never done a thing for herself and laughs at the lower-class to a down-to-earth worker that simply doesn’t want the journey to end. 

it’s incredible how perfectly the writers were able to close off these character arc’s without it feeling forced, and without ignoring their character development. imagine that. tahani chooses her own way, and it’s beautiful.

jack

jack’s ending may be the only one that i’ve actually somewhat come to terms with. it’s not terrible. it’s not great. but it’s not nearly as bad. because ignoring that awful monologue about every drop of rain and shit, jack really does end up helping people. he ends up doing something that he loves and that makes the world a better place. and he doesn’t lose his personality in it. but. i dunno, that’s still his destiny, right? to create paradise. and this is a show about ripping up the rule book, about choosing free will above all else… so to have every single character just fulfill their destiny is cheap. 

still… i’ll try to be unbiased. because really at the beginning of jack’s time on the show, he’s unsure what he wants. and at least, in the end, he’s sure. he has a wisdom that he’s always had but he’s now using. and i’m good with that. but what’s NOT okay about jack’s ending is the lack of on-screen family. jack learns that family is important. sam, cas, dean those are the people he cares about. and you’re telling me he would just NEVER see them again? and be okay with that? i know he rebuilds heaven with cas, but we don’t even get a story about him rescuing cas from the empty. and he seems in 15.19 to not be that concerned about it (after the amazing emotional scene at the beginning). jack should have cared about his family. he did. but they ruined that for him. so jack kline deserved better.

michael

oh man where do i start. michael’s growth is the biggest on the show. i mean. he starts as a literal demon and ends a human. he gets better, he falls in love with humanity (*castiel fan in me sobbing again*) and he chooses over and over to be good instead of bad. his whole arc is a classic redemption arc, and every single beat just gets better. he chooses selfishly to side with humans but in the end it turns out to be the best decision he could have made. because he develops emotions, he develops compassion, he develops a moral compass. 

and his end reflects that. because to complete this arc of a demon becoming more human… he literally becomes human!!!! it fits so well. and he’s allowed to make mistakes and be happy and gain all that humanity has to offer. this just shows that human!endgame for cosmic beings that become more human WORKS SO WELL (and it shoulda happened for cas and jack that’s all i’m saying). michael went on his own terms, and it was beautiful.

eileen

oh boy… this one stings. because they brought her back, used her up, and we never saw her again. eileen was one of the best side characters on the show, and they rarely addressed her arc. she comes onto the show as a hunter seeking revenge, and gets that revenge in the same episode. her s15 arc is focused on what’s real and what’s not, with her relationship to sam admittedly being a central part of her character because… it’s supernatural and women can’t exist without that. but still! eileen grows throughout the show and in the end… we don’t even know what happens to her. it’s as if her arc wasn’t important enough to even glance at. 

it’s as if the connections the boys make outside of each other mean nothing when in reality they mean everything. they prove that the co-dependency is behind them and that family doesn’t end with blood and that real connections can be formed between people that last a lifetime. eileen was a disabled hunter that was shown to still be one of the best in the business, and they didn’t even give her the courtesy of a goodbye. eileen didn’t go on her own terms, and she deserved better.

janet

this is gonna unbalance my list but goddammit janet’s ending was perfect. she was a not-robot, not-girl that should have been incapable of feelings. but throughout the series we get to watch as she learns first-hand about human emotions and processes them. she cares about the humans in her charge and fights for them on multiple counts. 

in the end, we see janet come to terms with both her cosmic being side, and her human side. she never stops being with the “cockroaches.” she sees them all leave, she’s there for them while they’re there, and she also continues to speak her mind and live autonomously. janet was a non-human character done right. she lived on her own terms, and it was beautiful.

some honorable mentions

spn ignored (in the finale) chuck, amara, stevie, charlie, jody, donna, garth, bess, the other angels, claire, kaia, patience, alex, and the list goes ON in favor of focusing on JUST sam and dean. did none of those characters at least deserve a quick goodbye??????

the good place wrapped up multiple arcs i had completely forgotten about in a totally natural and not forced way. mindy, doug forester, (the mushroom guy, i know, it took me a second), pillboy, donkey doug, kamilah, tahani’s parents, eleanor’s mother, eleanor’s friends, chidi’s best friend, vicki, shawn, glenn, simone and so many that i’m forgetting all got satisfying ends that they totally deserved. 

they even fucking resolved FROG GUY’S arc and gave him a real frog. that’s right. frog guy (jeff) had a better character arc resolution than dean motherfucking winchester. 

heaven and hell

obviously in very different vehicles, both shows explore in depth the realities of the afterlife. and lemme tell ya, at the end of the day, one sits a whole lot better than the other. 

the good place finale ends this quest for the perfect afterlife by saying that everyone can improve and that an eternal paradise shouldn’t keep you from eternal rest. they pretty much make me wish that this is what our afterlife looked like. they handle everything with care so it’s balanced precariously in a way that doesn’t give you anxiety looking at it but instead fills you with peace and faith in humanity. 

supernatural addresses this series long battle between heaven and hell by creating a heaven where you drive for forty years without seeing the people (cough cough cas and jack not his parents) that matter to you and drink beer that tastes like shit. a place you can’t be happy or find any sense of peace until your brother has died and he’s there too.

and hell… well they barely even address it. there’s a new queen of hell i guess? but so what. it’s still very much heaven and hell in a way that’s the worst and hey plus to them… makes me wanna stay alive thank you very much. oh and purgatory is in shambles and not functioning properly cuz all that eve bullshit.

loose ends

whenever something is ending, you gotta tie up the loose ends. not in a “oh, we must wrap everything up and leave no stone unturned” kinda way but in a “wow, we should probably try to make this unambiguous because this is the last time we will ever see these characters” kinda way. 

the good place does that. so fucking masterfully. all these side plots with all these different characters were taken care of all while focusing on the main six characters. we get to see how their intervention has changed everyone else. for example, mindy’s arc is wrapped up perfectly, with eleanor going to save her.

plus different running jokes like “take it sleazy” are wrapped up, we revisit really old callbacks like the original neighborhood, and all of it feels natural and in the moment. it feels like full circle in a way that doesn’t erase growth. 

supernatural, on the other hand, left a million loose ends open. what happened to the boys they saved? where the fuck are jody, donna, etc.? did eileen make it back? cuz sam was pretty upset about that. what happened to it “being loud” in the empty? hell, what happened to the empty? what happened to hell? what about chuck? it woulda been nice to see just for a second what became of him. did charlie and stevie make it (i’m very invested in that relationship)? if we’re taking the original ending… why the fuck is jimmy there? did kansas just all,,, die? 

i’m not saying they needed to address everything… but god a few wrapped up storylines besides the brothers wouldn’t have hurt

coloring

can i just… real quick… as a giffer lodge a complaint

the good place has beautiful vibrant coloring in the finale

spn has like bland washed out whatever the fuck that is coloring. it’s not even the dark early aesthetic cuz they dropped that it’s just… ew. so. do with that what you will. 

conclusion

first… while writing this i realized just HOW MUCH it’s not about destiel… like believe me. i knew i wasn’t just pissed about destiel. but holy shit it’s not destiel at all like did i even mention destiel that much???? this was never about a ship. this was just a trash finale. 

in the end. the good place writers knew what they were doing. they knew their fans, they knew their characters, they knew their world, and they knew how to wrap it up in a way that was satisfying and sad and perfectly fit the tone of the whole show. it wasn’t out of character or rushed, basically every loose end was tied up without the audience even realizing that’s what they were doing, and i feel happy and complete having watched it. 

the supernatural ending was a betrayal. flat out. to the audience that has stuck by it in a way bigger way than the good place fandom. to the characters that have helped so many people. to the actors that have given so much of their lives. to the other members of the crew, to certain writers… all of it was just a slap in the face.

we deserved better guys. there are better endings possible. so i’m sorry. i really am. but i guess… that’s what fanfic is for, right?

[gaiuswrites]

King of Cups || Chapter 5

Chapter 5: The Moon

Archive: ao3 | masterlist | four

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Summary: All relationships are about give and take.

Word count: 7k~

Rating: Explicit (Mature until the last few paragraphs)

Warnings/tags: nightmares, trauma, drinking, fluff and pining, drugs/being drugged (medicinal), wound care, blood, shots/needles, mature themes/language, emo shit, masturbation (f)

Notes: Hi friends. This is broken up in two portions: the first, being in Nevarro, and the second taking place some time later (hopefully that becomes clear when you read it heh). I'm hoping I captured the varying, distinct tones in each of the sections. Please feel free to reach out to me. :) Enjoy x (gif credit: @skyshipper)

They come at night.

The visions.

Your legs are rock, crumbling - eroding - with each weighted step, trudging through the city you once knew, laid bare to waste all around you. The air is grey brown, chalked with dust—with ash. There are bodies lining the road like trimmed hedges, floating by their ankles—ugly, corporal zeppelins. They’re pale. Their eyes are burned to coal and their tongues hang dead and waxy from their mouths.

They begin the same, choreographed like this; you follow the paths your mind has carved out for you, time and time again.

You spot him, plated in silver at the end of the row. Your feet stop. You see him, and he sees you. You feel his eyes - hawkish, piercing - under the murk of his visor. A predator’s gaze. He’s got a man in his fist—you think you recognize him, you might not—held by the scruff of his neck.

Sometimes it’s X’elo, bending to break in his gloved grasp. Other times, a stranger—a half remembered photograph—a memory of a memory of another dream entirely.

And sometimes, it’s you.

You hear the howl of wind scream through your bones—through the bones of the ruins there—but you don’t feel it. There’s only heat—the kind that’s unavoidable and omnipresent, as heavy as guilt. The hunter brings his hands to frame the man’s temples—yours too, sometimes— pebbles and slate trembling off you as you move towards them. You’re running, you realize, immobile but running and you’re not sure how or why—you never get there in time to find out.

He snaps his neck. You hear the crunch in your own ear—inside your own head.

It becomes night—blood moons drip wet from the sky. They splash onto the dirt. It turns to mud, caking the underside of your boots, squelching as you walk. You round a corner and—

You don’t recognize this. This is new. This— no, this is wrong.

A door. Rutted, freestanding—a dark monolith.

You stutter in your sleep, a crease in your brow.

It’s just a door.

No, not here—

A door. Black wood, a brass handle. Just a door, and you’re sweating. Just a door, and you’re suffocating—you’re being smothered—like your outsides are clawing to get back in through your throat and it’s sucking you in—this door, it’s just a door, it’s just a—closer, nearer, looming taller overhead—

You gasp awake, clutching at the scratchy blanket drenched cold with your sweat. Your rasps echo against the hull, sharp pants scraping the hollow metal, and you bring a hand to your chest—steadying, steadying, the fear of your racing heart.

You sit up, throwing your legs over the edge of the cot, and rake a shaky hand through your hair—the damp of the strands sticking to the nape of your neck. Your breathing evens out, tampering, with your forearms braced on the plats of your thighs; the rise and fall of your breasts against your sleep shirt quiet until you’ve stilled.

You roll off the bed, the aluminum frame whining with the shift, and you knock a knee into one of the carbonite pods as you stumble out of the storage room—your bedroom, now.

You couldn’t handle much more of it. You bought a bedroll the first planet you stopped to refuel at after Bajic, hermitting yourself away into the bowels of his ship. It was the only smidgen of untapped real estate left in the Crest, and it was far be it from you to complain about location. You were just thankful to be out of that copilot’s chair—no amount of bacta could unwind the knots in your neck after sleeping there night after restless night.

So you bunked with the bounties Mando had brought in, like one big macabre slumber party—the chrome slabs slotted up - watchful - in their chambers.

You try not to spare it much thought.

Padding through the Crest, soft bare feet leaving crescents on the steel deck, you step into the fresher to splash water on your face, jolting you back into the present and out of the nightmare, out of—

Just a door.

No—

You towel off, patting yourself dry. Inhaling, your lungs expand with the massive rush of air, and you hold it there until it hurts, until it prickles the corners of your eyes, and finally - deliberately - you release.

You look into the mirror.

You blink. She blinks back.

///

You make breakfast now.

It’s not something you both agreed to, it’s just something you do. Funny, how quickly you adapt to new normals, to new routines. You have rituals now—you two. You make breakfast, and you leave a bowl for him out on the counter before you slip into the shower. When you get out, the bowl is empty and the dishes are washed clean, drying face down on a rag. You smile. You never speak of it. Like ivy crawling up cobbled walls towards the sun, it happens— without prompt or feed, it simply is.

///

Nevarro reminds you of Dallenor—the craggy blandness of it, the endless black sands—and you fight the urge to hate it solely based on this principal alone.

You stay on the ship with the little one while Mando goes into town, meeting with some Greef Karga character to sew up Guild business. You have no idea how he ever managed to get any hunting done with the kid always acting up, pulling hijinks and inciting anarchy. He’s nearly torn the whole place to shreds. How such a tiny body can produce such a massive wake of damage is a mystery you will never solve.

You make yourself watch.

You force your jaw, set and held, as Karga’s men haul the quarries out of the ship, hovering eerily down the ramp.

X’elo, the smuggler from Vohai, some two-bit thief, and a woman Mando caught before you met, all parading single file out of the Crest like a funeral procession. They’re criminals, each and every one—they’re violent and they’ve done terrible, irredeemable things—but they’re people, too.

And isn’t that what makes it all so cruel. So sad.

The least you can do is give them an ounce of dignity before they’re subjected to their fate— however harsh, however fair.

So, you watch.

Maybe they don’t deserve it—they’re here by their own hand, after all, a bed of their own making— and maybe they haven’t earned it back any. But perhaps it’s less about what you can offer them and more about what you refuse to let the galaxy take. Because don’t you deserve to stay unfragmented? Complete? Would you rather be robbed of this humanity, your sense of decency—have it stolen from you?

Doesn’t it cost you nothing to be kind?

You pray neither sound nor fury will strip you of this—this open-eyed tenderness. You beg that you remain, undistilled, despite despite despite.

///

You’re so much more relaxed now then when you first came on board. You were as quiet as a church mouse then, tip toeing around the ship like you were afraid you’d ruin her.

Din will never admit it, but you even managed to get the jump on him once or twice—appearing exactly when and where he least expected. And he didn’t - couldn’t have - he didn’t expect you.

This.

And he looks at you now: lit by lamplight—the kerosene filament flickering warm in the dark hull— slotted back and humming to yourself as you swipe a finger over a holopad, feet propped up on a crate by the table, and it all looks organic. Right.

The drink in your hand, sloshing against the amber jug, no doubt eases your mood. You’re drinking it right from the bottle. He thinks it’s fucking charming.

“Enjoying yourself?”

“Maker above,” you hiss, startling a foot out of your seat. You shoot him an accusatory glare, but there’s no malice in it—there’s laughter ringing around your eyes.

Honestly, that man needs a bell on him.

“Don’t let me interrupt you,” he comments dryly, stepping past.

You move your legs from their perch and sit a little straighter. “You- you could join me,” you chime, “if you want.”

His feet slow until he’s stopped completely and he pans over his shoulder to you. You can’t read his expression—it’s steel all the way through— but you think you feel the air around you both quiver - shudder - with something unspoken, something kinetic.

The scrape of the chair as he pulls it out from the table is deafening, the thunk of his metal body sinking into it even louder.

“What are you reading?” Mando asks.

You cast him a sheepish smile. “CoreWorld News.”

“Anything good?”

Your mouth twists, biting the inside of your cheek. “Never.”

He huffs a breathy chuckle.

There didn’t seem to be any good news anymore. You forage for it—scouring the net for just a whiff of it, of something pure. There is plenty of greatness left in the world, but you find that what it lacks most is goodness— humble and precious. More often than not, you come up empty and disappointed—but never so dissuaded that you do not search again the next day, and the day after that, and after that and after that again.

“How’d it go with Karga?” you ask, setting the holopad down and switching off the display.

“Fine. Good.”

“Good,” you smile. He’s terse—sparse. You think it’s endearing now—vexing too, without a doubt, but the two aren’t mutually exclusive anymore.

“Nothing close to Coruscant yet. More outer rim chaavla,” he grits out, swallowing. “I’m sorry.”

There’s a tickle of bemusement in your voice and a quirk to your chin. “What are you apologizing for?”

“I know you want to get back.”

You hope the glow from the lantern in the galley is dim enough to camouflage the tinge sprung on your cheeks. The truth is becoming more and more clear to you, whether you like it or not: with each passing day, you want to go back to Coruscant less and less. You have to—you know you have to. You have your career, your whole life, waiting for you. But—

But.

“You told me it would take a while—longer than I’d like.”

“I know.”

“I’m happy to be here— I-I’m grateful,” you catch yourself.

He clenches his fist under the table, beyond your line of sight, gnarled tight into a ball. It tethers him down, anchoring him in place—because if he weren’t, fuck, he’d fly out of his seat so fast—

“Alright,” he chokes out.

“Alright,” you smile, glassy.

There’s a kind of mist encircling you two, an incense of a sort, intoxicating and sinewy and lulling you into a hushed calm. It’s thick around you - lush - and you can feel it settle like lead behind your eyes.

“Can I pour you a drink—for later?”

It’s late into the evening, well beyond the hour where the lines of decorum blur. You’ve crossed into the Other—that tarred, limber undertow. Dangerously weightless and free. The liminality between here and there— that twilight place.

Shadows bounce along the walls. Your outline—his too.

“I’d like that.”

///

You’re not as tipsy as you could be, but you’re less sober than you’d like.

Subconsciously, buried somewhere deep, you’re aware that Mando is humoring you and that you should let him get on with his night—but you don’t.

You’ll be annoyed at yourself later for this.

“Okay okay, what are your hobbies?”

A deadpan tilt of his helmet. “I—I don’t understand the question.”

You gape at him, your bottom lip glossed as it parts, plush and wet, and you laugh. “Hobbies,” you reiterate. “You know, stuff you like to do? For fun?”

You see the gears under that helm wheel and spin. It shouldn’t take anyone this long. The question is basic and the answer should be relatively immediate—but Mando has to mull it over. In all of his cycles, as hardened as they’ve been, he hasn’t been gifted the luxury of leisure - fun - and he hasn’t been afforded the time to dwell on the lack of it.

Selfless, without a moment of ownership to himself. This is the way.

“I-,” he pauses, mouth clamping shut. “Skip.”

“Fine, fine,” you tut. “What is... your favorite planet?”

Din stretches back, his beskar groaning against the chair.

All the planets he’d visited were out of necessity—out of demand and credit, never because he wanted to be there and certainly never out of favor. They were tainted—made insipid and unremarkable by the quarries he chased to them.

But there is one in particular that stands out; he remembers a planet the kid seemed to like—how he babbled the whole time, slung in the satchel at his hip, entranced and enthralled. He was on his best behavior, too—the little womp rat didn’t even try to stuff his tiny, wrinkled face with anything. Not once.

“Adega.”

“Adega,” you repeat, testing the name. “I don’t think I’ve heard of it. What’s it like?”

He draws in a long breath, his ribs yawning against the corset of his armor.

He should’ve gotten up by now—fuck, he shouldn’t have ever sat down in the first place. It’s not like he didn’t have anything to do; he needs to downshift the Crest’s power converters, switch off the shield projectors, chart a course to his next job, get some damn sleep if he’s lucky…

But you’re here before him. You’re here and he can’t deny you—not when you’re looking at him like that, like the sun shines out from his fucking face—far softer, far kinder than he deserves. Not when you’re here now, and you won’t be for much longer.

He’s racing against the clock—the swinging inevitability of it. Each moment he shares with you, is a moment that brings him closer to taking you back.

Din is a fool. He knows he’ll lose. He races anyways.

“It’s a water planet—mostly ocean,” he begins.

You allow your eyes to dip close, savoring the description, and you tuck your legs up to fold over themselves.

“But there are islands. Some are small, private—with red trees that go all the way to the sand. Others have whole cities on them.”

You remain quiet - patient - like marble, chiseled and sanded as thin as chiffon, veiling over your face in fine, cascading sheets. Transparent - ethereal - you listen to him blind, letting his words guide your sight.

“The kid-"

Your tongue darts out over your lip and he stutters. Din has to shift his hips, relieving the growing heat that’s tightening below his waist.

“T-The uh, the kid loved it. I’d never seen him like that. The bogwing didn’t want to leave,” he chuckles. He conjures the details he thinks you want—the details he thinks you might like most. “The people are honest—generous. The days are long, and the nights are warm.”

He’s no poet, but it doesn’t bother you.

“I can see it,” you say, before blinking your eyes open. "I'll have to go some time." There’s pink on your cheeks, seeping past your jaw and below the neckline of your shirt to the swallow of your breasts.

You look at him— he looks at you.

A noise hums from somewhere inside the ship.

“Are you scared of anything?” you murmur.

Mando lets a beat pass.

“I don’t think so. Not yet.” You smile at that—small, wistful. You’re not even sure why. “You?” he asks.

Your chest rises with a deep inhale. “I used to be scared of dying. I thought I was gonna die young. I was convinced—I had dreams about it all the time as a kid.”

But maybe that’s not it entirely. Maybe it’s not the fear of dying itself, but the dread of living and dying alone. And isn’t that at the heart of it—at all of this?

I just don’t want to do this all on my own.

He’s never been privy to this version of you—this sloping tone, the liquor buzzing through your speech, churning your words to treacle. You sound nonchalant in way that’s jarring, as if you aren’t talking about death— the fear of your own tenuous mortality.

“But I bet everyone does,” you continue dismissively, “just one of those things.”

He’s almost cautious when he replies. “I’m not sure they do.”

Your expression contorts, knotting for an agonizing moment—until the tension all but disappears. “Huh,” you shrug flippantly, and take a swig. That heaviness, that fog, dissipates nearly as soon as it arrived. “Anyways, favorite color?”

He rolls his eyes; you can see it in the way he tilts his head to you. Really, he seems to say, how old are we?

“You’re right, you’re right— that’s low brow. I can do better…” You melodramatically tap your chin, eyeing him pensively.

“Okay. What’s that?”

“What’s what?”

“That,” you nod to his pauldron, “that symbol on your shoulder.”

Tawny fingertips trace absentmindedly over the emblem. “It’s a Mudhorn. It’s-” Mando hesitates, before his hand returns to his lap. “It’s the sigil of my clan.”

You arch your brow. “I didn’t realize you had a clan— is it- is it like, big?” Stars, you sound dumb—and there’s no excuse. You’re not even that drunk. “How- what is a clan, exactly?”

“In Mandalorian culture, your clan is your family. Aliit. Mine, it’s—it’s a clan of two.”

Something in the pit of you stirs, a sickly warmth, pulling at your gut like a rope. You glance over to where the child sleeps, snuggled away in his pram and your lips curl into a smile, hidden behind the bottle you bring to them.

“You’re lucky to have each other,” you say gently, taking another sip.

“We almost didn’t—shouldn’t have.”

His hands tense into his legs—the creak of leather against his thigh plates is audible even from where you sit.

You narrow your eyes curiously. He heaves.

“He was a bounty and I did my job. I turned him in. I went back for him, but—the kid, he saved my life, and I could’ve left him there—I would’ve, before.”

It all comes out like tires grinding through gravel, bruised and roughened. It’s regret, you realize—this is the sound of guilt, frigid and rued, pushing through his modulator. It makes you want to reach out to him, put your hand on his, comfort him, reassure him—something. But you can’t. He’s too far away. He’s on his own sea—untouchable.

You decide it right then and there: you can’t bare that sound, the wracked timbre of it. You hate it. You think you’d do anything to rid the way in constricts his throat—makes him hoarse and clipped, even through the guise of his helmet. It pains you, a visceral stabbing, right to your core. You could go a lifetime without hearing it, and it still wouldn’t be long enough.

“But you didn’t,” you offer.

“No,” he utters. “No, I didn’t.”

Mando gives you these tortuous, beautiful previews of himself. Like light passing through stained glass, you sneak brief glimpses of the paintings there, the stories and fables and the lessons they teach, until some great cloud drifts past, blotting out the sun, and all goes dark again.

You know this is rare. You know you’ll be home soon. You know to cherish it—to relish what he gives, when he gives it, if he gives it at all.

But—you want more. You’re a simple woman, at the end of all things: all you want is to hold him.

“I think you’re a better man than you let on, Mando.” There’s a knowing twinkle in your eye, a coy lilt to your loosened tongue. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think you were flirting.

“You don’t know that,” he huffs, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I have my suspicions." You're smirking something awful - deadly - as it sears into him.

He grunts, flames licking up his chest. Din has to bite back his grin, making careful it doesn’t shape the sound of his vowels; grateful for the helmet that buffers him, the mask that seals him away into anonymity, into apathy.

If he can convince you, maybe he can convince himself too. Maybe.

“Next question, dala.”

If he didn’t know any better, he’d think you were flirting.

///

Your eyes are blown wide, gawking at him.

“I’m not a medic, Mando—I’m not a fucking surgeon!”

Mando crashes through the Razor Crest, red dollops trailing in pools behind him. He grunts, hand pressed to his side, blood pushing out of the gash that’s torn into him— a canyon down his unplated body, spewing angry and insistent with each spasm of his heart.

With a broad stroke, he sweeps the clutter off the table and onto the floor, spraying across the deck.

“Medkit,” he barks, hoisting himself up to lie, hulking and pained, out on the slab. You scamper to it, ripping it off the wall, and return to his lumbering body. His breathing is labored—he’s forcing it, seething it out.

Mando’s legs bend off the table at an uncomfortable angle and he rasps when you crane them up by his booted ankles – fuck, he’s heavy – to situate a small crate under his feet. They drop with a dulled thud— without muscle, without resistance. The languid weight of a dying man.

You’re stationed beside him, medkit spilled open. “W-What now, what do you need?”

“I need you,” you heard him say, deep and bassy, as he ascended the ramp. With a colossal drum of your heart, you spun around - I need you - a blush stippling your jaw. The pregnant expectation built behind weeks and weeks of stalemates and stolen glances - I need you - all rearing to a head here and now and finally, finally something—until you saw him, doubled over, bracing himself on the wall, a line of blood smearing behind his palm.

“Bacta-“ Mando wheezes, “bacta shot.”

You rifle through the supplies, littering them as you dig through the box.

Sure, you had gotten your first aid certification with the Movement—it was required, and you retook the courses every few cycles. But that was gauze wrappings and mouth-to-mouth and anti-inflammatory tablets—that was not this, and this is fucking surgery. You’re out of your depth—and Mando must be out of his damn mind.

“I nee-“ He inhales sharply, and his body spasms, gripping the ledge of the table like a vice. “My chest plate—take it off.”

He’s told you bits and parcels of the Mandalorian way—of his Creed— and you aren’t under the impression that this would be strictly sanctioned.

“M-Mando, I thought— are you sure?”

“Yes I’m kriffing sure—do it. Just do it,” he snaps. He hates this—he fucking hates this. Soft. Weak—weak weak weak, he’s so fucking weak. Laandur.

You fumble over the armor, uncoordinated as you unclasp it from his cuirass and Mando strangles out a sigh as soon as it leaves him. At last, you fish the shot from the medkit and hold it up to the light, the medicine like venom as it whirls in the tube. It’s uncomfortably large—simply holding it makes you squirm.

“W-What is that?”

Your eyes flit over the needle and then back to the bounty hunter. “What do you mean ‘what is that’? It’s a shot.”

“That’s a lance,” he growls.

“It’s ebacta-”

“It’s green!” he hisses out incredulously.

“It’s all they had!” you bite back, panic skipping through your veins.

You’re practically yelling at each other, the tension winding and coiling tighter and higher as the seconds tick by. You feel each one, tapping along your vertebra like a metronome, keeping time, keeping time, wasting time—all this back and forth is a waste of time and—

You’re nervous—you’re fucking terrified—and Mando doesn’t frequent this position either—this vulnerability. He doesn’t know what to do with it, where he belongs in it. I need you, he said. He hadn’t needed anyone before and now look at him, bare breasted before you, wounded and mewling like roadkill.

You rap the needle with a knuckle, banishing the air pocket, and test the plunger. Droplets of liquid spurt from the tip, and he begins to rile.

“Dala,” he warns.

“Mando,” you mimic.

“Nu draar-”

“Do you want my help or not?” you spit out, and he shrinks, visor trained on the jab, that unnatural chartreuse swirling inside the glass vial. “Okay. Okay, on three.”

“Wait, wait-"

“One..." You try to sound firm - competent - but you’re a fucking mess. Your breathing is erratic, tunic soiled with sweat, and you’re trembling.

“You don’t-“

“Two...”

Mando huffs exasperatedly, “Ah, fuck it-”

“Three.”

You drive the syringe down, stabbing into him. His body seizes—flexing rigid—as soon as the viscous gel is injected, oozing oozing oozing until it’s pumped empty and spent.

And then— nothing.

All that whirlwinded frenzy, that raging tempest, and now silence— dead silence. He lays there motionless, fidgeting ceased, that ungodly needle pitched like a flag pole from his chest.

… Shit.

“Hey,” you touch a hand to his shoulder.

The smug bastard could be having a laugh under that helmet and you’d have no idea. That’s what you tell yourself—that’s what you’d prefer to believe anyways; it’s better than the alternative, better than—than than than fuck—

“Hey, this isn’t funny...” A little rougher now, you jostle him. He doesn’t react.

“… Mando?”

His head lolls to the side.

With a whistle, the room goes mute. Sound and oxygen alike, it all gets vacuumed out, and your senses invert. You can hear every tick of your body: the bone of your jaw as your teeth mash together, the pulse at your wrist, your stammering heart beating beating beating in your inner ear, the bob of your trachea as it grates against your neck.

Kriff. You killed him—you killed the Mandalorian.

Oh Maker, oh shit-

You press down around the puncture site with a wide palm before yanking the syringe out, flinging it away. You’re shaking him now, wrestling with his limp body, and you’re shouting—croaked with worry, with fear.

“Fuck, Mando—Mando!"

The sound is like glass shattering.

He gasps wildly, gulping down air as if he’d been drowned, writhing like the undead from your operating table. You buckle over him, fatigued and slumped, and cry out in blessed relief.

Your instincts, those poor frail nerves, tell you to smack him—but given that he’s bleeding out, you refrain.

“Don’t do that to me!” you exclaim, breathy and strained.

“Don’t do that to you?” Mando retorts, panting. You let out a weak crackle of laughter and he moans. It’s like he’s been hit by a speeder - twice - forward and then reversed over again.

“Maker, what did you give to me?”

“I got it on Vohai. They uhm- they said it was good quality-“

“And you believed them?”

Your mouth twists shyly. “I-I wanted to believe them,” you correct him.

It’s his turn to laugh now, tired and raw. Oh, you sweet little thing.

You swallow, saliva coating your ragged windpipe. “I’m sorry—Maker, I’m so sorry, a-are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he scoffs, gargled, “but remind me never to have you save my life again.”

That earns him a light slap to his arm. If he’s well enough to dole cheap shots, you figure he’s fit enough to take yours too. He’s spliced open, whole chunks of him missing, and he still has the wherewithal to be an ass.

“Well, you’re not out of the woods just yet.”

///

Regrettably, Mando might have been spot on about the bacta—in fact, you’re starting to question whether it’s really bacta at all.

A delirious grunt ripples through the bounty hunter’s modulator as you cut open his ripped flight suit, careful not to slice him with the vibroblade. His black undershirt is matted to his gaping wound, the blood bubbled over and through the rough material, and you have to peel the fibers out of his coagulating flesh to get to it. You toss the fabric into the bucket next to you with a sloppy, wet plop.

It didn’t even occur to you. You were so swept away by the state of him—by the dizzying carnival of it all as soon as Mando breached the Crest—you didn’t consider the fact that you’d be seeing him. Touching him.

You have to mask your expression when you meet his skin for the first time. He’s golden—he’s golden everywhere—like desert sand dunes sizzling under ripe, afternoon suns—dappled with memories of violence, branded into him.

You’ve never heard him like this. He keeps noising these feverish little nothings— gasping, moaning in a language you don’t recognize—and you do your best to distract him. It’s one of the tenets you recall from your aid training: keep them talking, keep them sharp—engaged.

“Do each of these have a story?” you ask, eyeing the marks that riddle and pucker him.

“Some of them.”

“What about this one here?” You touch a faded ribbon of scarring. It’s older than the others—paler. Your fingertips are cool and he blazes beneath them.

He tries not to twitch. You try not to notice.

“Fell out of a tree when I was a kid—haven’t thought about that in a while,” Mando pants. “B-Broke my wrist, got scraped to shit— my buir, m-my mother, she chewed my ear off.”

“Mm, I bet she did,” you smirk—you can relate to the feeling.

“I-I remember the lines around her eyes. H-Her eyes— they were green, bright green— jade.”

He lets out a wince as you swipe a disinfectant soaked rag over him. You cringe and flash him an apologetic look.

“Sounds beautiful,” you muse, a quiet smile pulling at you as your deft fingers work. “Did you get her pretty eyes too, Mando?”

Something is caught in his throat— a chuckle, or a cough more likely. “No, they’re brown. Just brown.”

Your whole body locks.

Just brown.

Two words - just brown - and suddenly you’re rich— full to the brim with him.

And fuck, if it doesn't feels like a gift. Like he gathered something precious and laid it in your arms and said here, you can have this now. We can share. Sometimes you forget that there’s a man under all those layers; a man— a warm blooded, tanned skin, brown eyed man. You hadn’t often wondered what the Mandalorian was hiding under his armor—he was so finite, so unmovable, the mask he wore became him. He was beskar - indistinguishably - through and through.

But that was before. And now you’re blinded with him— with all the details you cannot unsee.

“S-She was the last person to take care of me—like this.”

It comes over you so suddenly, you’re taken aback by it: that knee-jerking gut wrench. And not because there’s heartbreak in his voice, but because there isn’t. Because he’s had to be so invulnerable—so unyielding and invincible for so long—that he doesn’t even realize what he’s without.

And you, if only for a silly, naïve moment, wish you could give it back to him. Every little ounce of goodness that he’s been deprived of—to dip into his time stream, and rewrite.

To plant but a seed of it there, even if you don’t stay long enough to see it’s harvest.

“Tell me more about her,” you say.

And beyond expectation, beyond reason, he does.

///|||///

This—this is wrong.

He feels pulpy - soggy - wrong. He’s more liquid than he should be—there’s nothing solid about him now. He’s swept away in the tide of it—this green current charging through him and he let’s go - what is there to hold onto anyways? - floating belly up on his back.

Din spills—like the aperture split into his side, he gushes. Whatever dam he’s forged around himself, the beskar and duracrete there, cracks.

The stream trickles until he floods and like any good story, he starts from the beginning.

He tells you of home—his first home. Aq Vetina.

You’re plucking spikes and nettle from his side, and he barely feels it—all he has is this sinking, unending wet—and they hit the tray with dull plunks, punctuated and staccatoed.

He tells you of the adobe dwellings and the domes and columns. Marketplace canopies and caravan bazaars.

plunk

The oak trees, the willow bark, the spires he’d climb until the sun set.

plunk

The tall mountains and the dry, rubbled earth. Of the nameless neighbor children he played with, kicking a ball through the dirt. Red robes trailing, fraying.

plunk

His mother. The shawl she wore. The copper of his father’s ring. The herbs she grew by the light from their kitchen window. How he held her hand while they sat by the fire.

plunk

His tongue doesn’t belong to him—it wags numb and supple. He’s lost his sense of direction, unbound by north or south, and these words are simply happening to him. They keep happening and happening and escaping and—

It’s not just the off-bacta speaking for him, making him pliant. He wants this. He wants to bend—he wants to bend for you.

And now there’s no stopping it—there’s no breaking this, no halting it's downhill momentum. Din describes the attack, the heat of the fire as his town - his world - burned down, of his parents concealing him—a child, abandoned and bunkered away in a cellar to live or die with or without them— being rescued by the Death Watch and raised as a Mandalorian himself.

Your bandaging has long since finished, but you remain, hovering over him as you listen—listen as the jigsawed shards of his life stitch themselves together. Like a moth to a flame, you are drawn in and in and in, until you’re butted against the wick of it. Inseparable.

When the well of his words runs dry, neither of you go to move. Pin-drop silence envelops you. Your hands still on his chest, palms like a weighted quilt—warming him, securing him. He feels-

He feels safe.

“Mando,” you murmur, and the epithet has never sounded so fucking sacred, whispered from you like a prayer. You cripple him; the web of concern along your brow, the sheen in your eyes, the breathy part of your lips.

His throat has gone dry and he shakes his head left right, beskar grating against the makeshift gurney. Mando. No. No, that’s not right—that’s not who he is, that’s not who he wants you to know.

He draws his hand up—it’s so fucking heavy, he can barely lift it—but he tries, he tries, he wants to. You’re right here, you’re touching his chest and you’re healing his body—his mind too, if he’d only let you—and if he could just get to you. If he could just lace his fingers with yours—would you let him? Should you?

“M-My name-"

A warbled wail from the kid’s alcove rips through the cradling hush, and you both react immediately, lurching up to tend to the child. Din forgets—he hears his foundling and his reason leaves him—and he flinches with a grimace. You urge him down, steadying him with a pointed look.

“Rest.”

It’s a command, there’s no question to it, and it’s teeming with all of these unrecognizable concepts— care and assurance, worry and compassion. So impossible to disobey in the way that gentle things are—too soft and too right to say no to. He relents - gives - helmet thudding when it connects back with the table.

Din, he pleads, desperate for you to read his mind. Like a mantra, his subconscious rambles it on a drug addled figure-eight, coming around only to repeat itself again, infinite and wanting. Din Din Din-

Only when the child’s cries muffle into hiccups and his hiccups slur into coos does he let his exhaustion get the better of him. There was too much—it was an assault from all fronts. The blood loss, the drugs, his life like a monsoon as it crushed him open. And all it took was a wound, a brush with his mortality, for him to surrender it to you.

He turns his head, searching for you through the blur of his vision. You’re there in the doorway, rocking his boy in your arms, haloed with light.

I need you, he said. I need you I need you I need you I need-

Din’s eyes shut.

He doesn’t dream. He sleeps like the dead, blissful and undisturbed.

///

You spend hours scrubbing the deck on all fours, spine hunched and aching, cleaning scarlet off silver steel. It got everywhere, the splatter of it—even on the surfaces Mando didn’t come in contact with. The smell of blood, that nickel musk, it lingers long after its welcome—long after the stain of it, the stain of him, has vanished from the Crest. From your skin.

At some point during the night you nod off next to him, curled over a crate, and when you wake Mando is gone—presumably back to his quarters but gone all the same. All traces of him gone - expunged - and the ship feels hollow and gaping— a sterile Mando shaped hole in his absence. You follow his lead, retreating to your bed for a few more hours of sleep.

The next morning doesn’t go as you’d like.

You weren’t sure if he would remember any of it—of what he confided, of what he almost confessed— but by the way the tension ferments between you, you can only assume he does.

They go through their routines, stilted as they are.

He’s up early— unnecessarily early. Mando goes to the cockpit to rouse the ship, plugging in the coordinates from his tracking fob to chase after the escaped bounty. Thrusters set. Repulorlifts and auxiliary engines engaged. Deflector shield generator on. Weapons check. Atmospheric pressure regulator switched.

He’s slower, you note— his movements are crawled—with only half the feline agility he typically possesses and you want to tell him to sit, to take a break—to get off his damn feet and to let you help him—that it’s okay if he rests. That he can take time for himself. That it doesn’t make him any less of a Mandalorian—any less of a man.

But, you can’t.

And so the day is pulled taut like this—a bowed string ready to snap, chalked full of false starts and tinny stoicism. A sharp, intentional air of avoidance with every action. They were out of step, out of sync, and it reminds you of the first days you’d spent on the Razor Crest, orbiting each other—planets apart.

Because he’s shared too much. You knocked, Din answered. He opened the door and he let you past and now he has nowhere left to go but inwards. He’s cornered with no exit strategy - no option - but to close back up again and furl in on himself like a fern in the dark. Curling - evaporating - until he’s nothing but armor—nothing but mirrored edges and metal plates.

But—

you still made his breakfast and he still washed your dishes—and maybe that is enough.

///

You pass each other in the corridor, as you have done before.

You smile gently—soft as sin— and it breaks him, like it always does.

You have a hand on the rung of the ladder when he calls your name, and you turn to him, bright eyed.

“Thank you,” he rasps, “I never thanked you.”

He’s so strikingly sincere— standing there, arms dangling stiff by his sides. He looks different now, somehow— different, but the same. Fuller, bigger—smaller, too.

Human, you realize.

Your heart flutters in your chest. “Of course, Mando-“

“Din.”

You forget to breath. Time forgets to move.

“My name is Din.”

///

Din. Din Djarin.

It takes you almost a week to say it—to even utter the syllable aloud—and you only ever risk it when he’s gone on a hunt and you know you’re alone.

“You like it when I touch you like this?” you hear him say, the fabricated echo of his voice in your skull. He’s got two fingers in you—you can envision them now, clear and potent, the golden hide of them—and he moves slow as he takes you right to the edge, dancing dastardly along that cliff side before retracting himself and backing off. You can’t see his face, but you know he’s smirking; you can feel it in his fingertips, how they mock you—how they scorch into you and leer.

Even in your fantasy, he’s a prick.

“You like it when I make you cum on this filthy fucking cot?”

You keen into your hand, whimpering into your bitten raw lips. The scene is playing on without you now, writing itself. All you can do is lay here and take it, succumb to it, starved and desperate and vile as you thrash on your bedroll.

You rove your palm over your chest—

He snakes up your shirt, twisting your nipple until it’s peaked and perked under him, until you yelp with that muddled jolt of pleasure and pain. He’s lazy and fitfully unhurried, each movement sauntered and proud. He’s coaxing it out of you, this orgasm, as he kneels over you, your vision flooded with the cold menace of his beskar. Finally, tortuously, he traces his thumb over your clit, toying with you in small circles until you’re shaking—vibrating, every molecule of you—like you’re going to burst, incinerate there in your bed. He’s urgent now, demanding, and thrusting into your swollen cunt and the pressure mounting in your heat swells until, until, oh my st-

You fuck your fingers until they prune, drenched with the thought of him teasing you, stuffing you full with anything he’ll give you; his hands, his cock—Maker, his tongue. You let it roll around your mouth when you touch yourself like this in the dark belly of the ship—heels digging into your thin mattress, knees steepled together—and you’re panting, wanton and velvet, before a fist shoots up to muffle the moaned name wafting from your lips like smoke.

“Din”

@girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @pedros-mustache @miranhas-art @djarrex @djarinsbeskar @bookloverfilmoholic @keeper0fthestars @misguidedandbeguiled

[moonreadingjournal]

As promised, I want to show the books that I recently pre-ordered at the indigo website.

I absolutely love the cover. I am an absolute sucker for covers. I can’t wait for what the story holds. Do I want the main character to end up with the crown prince? I would love it but it’s not my story.

The story about the daughter of the moon goddess who was a secret from the immortal empire for years, had to flea her home, leaving her mom trapped in the moon. She meets with the crown prince of the empire and becomes his study partner. She learns a lot about the empire but more importantly she learns to use the bow and arrow. She then embarks in a supposed impossible mission to free her mom. It’s such a good book.

The second book I preordered is

I love this story. I had seen it around either Tiktok or tumblr and I thought it was cute and then I read the book….wow. The story is cute and so good. I love it. I can’t wait for this book to come out later this year.

Luc is the son of two rockstars, mom that got just one album hit and the douche dad that abandoned them both. Well in his mid twenties (I believe I don’t remember) after a scandal breaks his job is in jeopardy so the only way he finds out of this one is to get a respectable guy to pretend to be his boyfriend. And so he enters, Oliver Blackwood. A perfect man (i believe). Thought they both carry a lot of baggage (though not as much as luc) they manage to get through it as they both catch feelings for each other.

This is the other book I got

I talked about it in another post. I can’t wait to read it. But it will be after the book so this is ever after.

It’s about arranged marriage. A man that was betrothed to this girl for political reasons, he finds out that he has a pretence for men. However, before the whole union is “ruined” the family of the girl decide to betrothed him to the brother of the girl. The guy he’s supposed to marry was certainly thrown to a loop, however I think he will become to care for his husband (and vice versa). It sounds real intriguing that’s why I decided to get it. 

The one I keep constantly mentioning is So this is ever after by FT Lukens.

This is the cover. It’s so cute. I love queer books (though I do read more gay books, don’t know why).

This book reminds me to Carry on by rainbow rowell and The extraordinaries by tj Klune. This is about a boy, Arek, who was chosen to free his country from the tyranny of an evil guy. He and his 5 friends (including his best friend, Matt, who he has a crush on) go and succeed in the mission. Though Arek ends up succeeding in the mission he is crowned king in the meantime they go and find the legitimate heir to the throne, who ends up being dead, thus he is made king for real. And now that he has an entire nation to think about he really only wants to confess his feelings. (I found that extremely cute). When he becomes king he has to get married by his eighteenth birthday or wither into nothing. He then tried to woo his friends (that’s what the dust jacket says but I’m confused since he has a crush on his best friend). Anyways, I expect a lot from this book.

The very last book I will like to talk about (the last one I swear) is An arrow to the moon by Emily X.R. Pan.

So yeah, once again gorgeous cover (please let me be, though I know I need help, it’s a disease). This book is about two characters Hunter Lee and Luna Chang. I will admit I don’t know much about the book, but with what I was reading these two characters have strict parents (that’s the assumption I have). But I may be wrong, in the dust jacket it says that it’s a retelling of a Chinese myth and Romeo and Juliet (though it better not end like Romeo and Juliet), though I don’t know much of the Chinese mythology considering their names, hunter and Luna (moon in Spanish) it might have something to do with the moon goddess. I will admit that the thing about the Chinese mythology and their names reminded me to the book Daughter of the moon goddess, and that’s why I bought it but details schmetails.

Anyways. I don’t know in what order I will read the last two books mentioned, probably the one so this is ever after. But we’ll see.

[shywhumpauthor]

Rune’s Story Part 6- Spoon

Masterlist

Okay you know when you have a plot all written out, but then your characters just go and fuck it up? That is exactly what Rune did. I no longer control these characters. They control me. 

Cw: pet whump (not bbu). female whumper, beating, forced into a cage, cursing, forced labor, pet names, hit with a spoon, affectionate/kind of intimate whumper, dehumanization, conditioning/past conditioning, 

Rune carried the basket of dirty clothes into the laundry room, careful not to knock anything over with their wings. 

Balancing the laundry basket in one arm, they pulled open the washing machine, and began to put the clothes inside. 

“Thank you, Sugar, I’m sorry for asking you to do so much, especially since you just got here,” Mabel offered them a soft smile as they finished putting the laundry into the wash, and stepped aside as she moved forwards. 

“For this, we do about half a cap of detergent, and you put that in right here,” Mabel spoke as she grabbed the detergent off of the top of the washer, and twisted the cap off. “Then you press this button to turn it on, turn the dial to normal, and press start,” 

The washing machine hummed to life, and Mabel turned to them. “See? Easy as pie,” She smiled. “Come on back to the kitchen, I’ll make us both lunch before we get down to the real cleaning.” Mabel placed a hand on Rune’s shoulder, and ushered them out of the bathroom. 

“Here, you take a seat over there, I got that nice little cushion just for you!” Mabel exclaimed, pointing to a floor pillow by the table. Rune bit their tongue, and took a seat. 

Why couldn’t they just sit at the table? There were four chairs, that was more than enough! They didn’t dare say anything. Mabel made it clear she wanted them sitting on the floor, so that’s what they would do. 

But as Mabel handed them a bright green sippy cup, they had to fight to keep a neutral expression. They had seen human infants and toddlers use these! They weren’t a helpless little baby! And they weren’t a dog, either! They shouldn’t have to eat on the damn floor, or sleep in a fucking cage!

“Are you okay, Rune? You’re making a face,” Mabel asked, as she emptied a can of pork and beans into a pan. 

“Yes, Miss, I’m good,” They answered, wrapping their wings around their shoulders. 

“You can tell me if something’s wrong, you know,” She turned to look at them. 

“I- thank you, miss,” Rune thought better of saying anything. They looked down at their feet until Mabel turned away. They had already broken so many rules, they were surprised they hadn’t been punished yet. 

Rune had been through a lot of shit in the past year. They had been captured by a group of hunters, taken in by Darius of all people, tortured and beaten on a daily basis, and stripped of every last bit of dignity they had. And they had managed to survive all of that without yet breaking down. 

But when Mabel served them their lunch in what looked suspiciously like a dog bowl, they fucking lost it. 

“I’M NOT A FUCKING PET!” Rune exploded, throwing the dog bowl across the room as hard as they could as they jumped to their feet. It crashed against the window, and the shattering of glass filled their ears. 

Just as quickly as it had come, the anger left them, and the harsh reality of what they had done sank in. 

Mabel stared at them in shock, a large hand raised to cover her open mouth. 

“I- I’m so sorry, miss,” Rune whispered, as they dropped to their knees, bowing their head. “I-“

“Don’t talk.” Mabel whispered harshly, and Rune shut their mouth. 

“Never in my life have I seen such an ungrateful little-“ Mabel took a sharp breath in, and slowly released it. “You stay right there, don’t move.”

Rune barely dared breathe as Mabel crossed the kitchen, and yanked open a drawer. They stole a glance up, just to see her pull a large wooden spoon out, before slamming shut the drawer. 

“I know this day has been stressful, but it is quite unacceptable for you to act like this,” Mabel huffed, as she advanced on them with the spoon. 

Rune had been hit with many things. Belts, whips, canes, even a rolled up magazine. Never had they been hit with a wooden spoon. 

The pain was more dull than the splitting one of a whip. For a woman of her age, Mabel’s hit was surprisingly hard, as the spoon cracked across their cheek. 

Rune swallowed back a cry, but stayed still. They deserved this. They had been terrible, awful. They deserved the whip. They should be thankful that she was going so easy on them. 

But all they felt was bitter resentment, towards Mabel, and towards humans. It was so fucking unfair. They weren’t a pet! They had been free, and happy, until both of those things were ripped away from them! By the fucking hunters! Who were they to decide that Rune didn’t deserve freedom? That Avians didn’t deserve freedom?

Rune flinched as Mabel hit the spoon across their knuckles, white hot pain shooting up their arm. They deserved this. 

The beating didn’t last half as long as one of Darius’s did. With one last forceful whack across the base of their wings, Mabel huffed out “Get to your crate!”

Rune didn’t bother to pick up their pig plush as they hopped to their feet and ran from the kitchen. 

The cage… wasn’t as small as it looked from the outside. They could just about sit up straight, and stretch out their legs. Rune glanced down as something squeaked beneath them. They reached under their leg, and pulled out a small little rubber pineapple. A dog toy.

With a half stifled sob, Rune threw it out of the cage, where it bounced harmlessly off the carpet. 

Mabel huffed in exasperation, as she bent over, and locked the cage shut. “I really expected better of you, Rune,” Mabel sighed, noticing the pineapple toy. She picked it up, and set it on top of the cage. “Take some time to think about what you did wrong, I’ll come back later. You still have chores to do.” Mabel pushed for a moment, but Rune didn’t even look up. They tucked their head in between their knees, and brought their wings up to shield their body from view. 

As Mabel walked away, they couldn’t bring themselves to feel guilty. Regretful, sure, but not guilt. They could handle being treated like a slave. They could handle being treated like a toy. But they could not handle being treated like a pet.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

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@just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi​ @myst-in-the-mirror

[add3ra11]

What’s unicorn hunting?

Google and Urban Dictionary exist, I know you know how to use them if you’re in my anons 🙄

But since this can be a teaching experience for anyone who visits my blogs I’ll go ahead and explain.

Unicorn hunting is when a het couple specifically seek out a pan- or bisexual partner, usually female, with intentions of having a threesome and some even with intentions of becoming a “throuple” of sorts. Why is this gross and problematic you might ask? Well, turns out, unicorn hunters are generally deceptive fuckwads who lack transparency, dehumanize the “unicorn”, and maintain unrealistic expectations almost fucking always. How you may ask? Worry not, I come with examples. Bi and pansexual people can, and often do, find themselves in scary situations when one partner invites them under the guise both partners are wanting and expecting the situation. Often times people think bringing a bi or pansexual into the bedroom as a surprise will be the hail mary that’ll save their relationship/sex life. This can put the bi/pansexual in a very uncomfortable if not dangerous situation. And it happens A LOT. Trying to use a bi/pansexual to try and fix your failing relationship in itself is incredibly toxic and objectifying for the “unicorn”. But let’s ignore that for a second, lets say both parties are happily committed and transparent. There’s still dehumanization occurring. Bi/pansexual people are not mythical sex machines or creatures here to fulfill your deepest fantasies. We are real fucking people with real feelings and our own desires as well. Unicorn hunters treat bi/pansexual “thirds” as literal sex equipment rather than people. Even with pure intentions, the expectation that a bi/pansexual will automatically want to have a threesome is not realistic and is actually insulting to bi/pansexual people. Which brings me to unrealistic expectations. Unicorn hunters build this picture in their head of bi/pansexual partners and then get upset when their “unicorn” doesn’t exactly act like a unicorn. But from the beginning they designed this idea of a relationship that totally disregards the unicorn except when it comes to fulfilling their sexual fantasies. Un-fucking-realistic. Also, there are so many fucking unicorn hunters out there but why do you think they call it unicorn hunting?? Because unicorns are extremely rare at best. Some may even argue they don’t exist. How many bi/pansexual people are out there that actually don’t even like threesomes? How many don’t wanna be used as a sex toy? How many don’t want to be put in an awkward and potentially dangerous situation for probably mediocre sex? Geez, I can’t vouch for all of us but trust me when I say you’re out of you’re mind if you think its numerable. Even with complete honesty and transparency, why dehumanize ANYONE like EVER especially if there’s less than a one in a million chance of getting what you want?

I want to make it clear I’m not shaming polyamory/throuples or threesomes at all. But these are things that should develop organically, not be designed by asshole dehumanizing unicorn hunters looking for an obedient sex toy that checks all their boxes. Triads and polycules happen, but they should occur naturally, and threesomes should be a happy surprise, rather than be sought out per se. There’s nothing wrong with being bi/pan and seeking threesomes if thats what you really want, but just know you deserve to be treated like an equal, your desires deserve to be heard, and you deserve to be safe always.

To all my fellow “unicorns” out there, I hope you can recognize the red flags of unicorn hunting when it occurs. We are people, not sexual rarities. We deserve to be treated like real people. There’s tons more info on this stuff out there on google and such if y’all are interested. Let me know and I can link up some sources. Stay safe, everyone, especially my fellow unicorns. Here’s to surviving the hunt 🖤