#many ancient myths will just break you for a week

[brunhielda]

As someone who lives out in the mountains, the lilacs are only just now beginning to fade away, and it has set me to thinking.

This site has WRECKED me, and I can only think of lilacs in terms of Sir Terry Pratchett and “The Glorious 25th of May,” even though the lilac generally blooms a week after that around here.

But, as in most things, Sir Pratchett remains a literary genius, and the lilacs aren’t really about the specific date. It’s about the seasons changing and what that brings.

Spring is when the sleeper wakes up. When humans shake off old thoughts of winter and have the energy to make changes, to be incensed, if need be, about things that have been going on for generations. When do protests happen? May into June.

Does weather play a part? Absolutely. It is easiest in Spring and Fall for outside activity and travel. But it is also about what is happening inside your mind and heart with a shifting of the seasons. Connection to the earth and the rest of humanity plays such a big part in making things RIGHT, whether we recognize it or not.

Pratchett recognized the pattern. I don’t know if he recognized it consciously, but the importance he put on those flowers makes me think he did.

I would credit that pattern recognition to his love of old things. History, folklore. Other people I also see as showing wisdom in their work- Neil Gaiman, the Green Brothers, Brennan Lee Mulligan, Douglas Addams, various writers of fantasy and science fiction- they enjoy history. They read folklore and mythology and other ancient tales. They delve into old things that connect humanity.

I guess what I am saying is really obvious, but…

If you enjoy storytellers who suddenly hit you with something that feels like TRUTH, some of that is an intentional care in thier stories, but some of that is thier brain chemistry being changed, as we put it, by some really ancient humanity.

I would suggest if you love Pratchett, love Gaiman, love some of the impactful storytellers, you should consider what made them so good. Consider not just thier works, not just newer wisdom, but ancient wisdom. Connect back to some of the roots of humanity.

Don’t just read Song of Achilles. Read the Illiad too.

[cdragons]

Bound by Embroidered Chains - Aemond Targaryen x Seamstress!OC x Jacaerys Velaryon - Chapter One

Prologue

Summary: Dragons have a habit in hoarding the prettiest of jewels, and pearls are of no exceptions.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ Obsessive Behavior (we all knew this was coming), tiny!Aemond is delulu, tiny!Jace is delulu, Dark Themes, not betaread we burn like Harrenhal, etc. Also translations for Valyrian will be added at the bottom! Also I used an online translator for the High Valyrian, so it may not be great 🫠

Author's Note: Hello everyone! Thank you all so much for the amazing support for this story's prologue, I did NOT expect so many positive reviews! I'm sorry this took so long, but I had a ton of applications and finals. But since I am on winter break, hopefully I will be able to upload more fics! Happy Holidays and big shoutout to @valeskafics, who continues to be the HOTD fanfic writing ICON that we all know and love! If you liked reading this work, reblog and comment if you want to be tagged in future installments of this work! Also I apologize for any grammatical errors, I wanted to post this as soon as possible.

You have known your entire life that you were going to be one of the many seamstresses that serviced the Royal Family.

By the age of three, your mother would teach you how to begin your very first stitches, which soon shifted to learning the most complicated patterns of embroidery. You still remember the tears in her eyes as you presented the silk-woven handkerchief that had lovely little purple and blue flowers embroidered on the borders for her birthday. Your face flushed to an almost too bright red when she insisted on showing all the other royal seamstresses and tailors your first handkerchief. But it made you smile in remembering how big her smile was that week, as she was so pleased by how much you’ve progressed at such a young age.

When you were only six, your mother had begun to teach you how to properly extract the dye from beautiful flowers and the scales of brightly-colored insects. So skilled and nimble were your fingers that you even gave your childhood playmate, Aemond Targaryen, a thick green wool cloak with green and silver dragon embroidery. The cloak’s wool had been dyed by your hand with copious amounts of goldenrod and indigo flowers. You then carefully stitched silk to line the inside of the cloak to prevent him from overheating, as even the harshest winters in the Crownlands were hardly anything compared to the summers in the North. It had caught you off-guard in the almost too-tight embrace he locked you in, but you eagerly reciprocated as you could tell he appreciated the gift more than words could describe.

It was not just a gift for is name-day from a childhood companion, but also a way to reassure him that he will one day have a dragon. And even if the gods do not grant him worthy in their eyes, he would always be considered a prince worthy of the Targaryen name in yours. After all, there were not many princes that would willingly spend all their free time with a lowly seamstress’ daughter – even if the supposed seamstress that was your mother was so heavily favored by the Queen.

“Pearl,” came a voice with a tone far too serious despite its youth, “what are you doing in the Godswood?”

You lifted your head from old tome you were studying, only to see a young boy of only nine name-days, that stood as straight as one of the stone pillars that stood in the Sept of Baelor. His white locks nearly blinded you with how the sunshine seemed to reflect on them.

“Well my prince, as you can clearly see, I have decided to take advantage of this fine day to do a bit of studying of my own.” You lifted the near ancient tome on your lap to show him the title, Myths and Legends of the Jade Seas.

Whatever outwardly beauty the book possessed had long diminished, the spine was bent from the hundreds of hours spent looking through its contents and the letters were near faded to a dull grey as the pages yellowed from age. But the colors of the ink remained as vibrant as when they were first painted on the frail sheets, accompanied by beautiful imagery of magical dragons and elusive mermaids. The details were so fine and intricate that it felt as if you only needed to touch the ink in order to be transported into the stories. You remembered how you begged either your mother or father to read it to you every night, as utterly transfixed by the colors back then as you remained so now.

“You are more than welcome to join me, but if – and only if – you share one of those apples hiding in your knapsack.”

Finally showing an expression appropriate for his age, the young prince reached in his pouch to show two gorgeous apples – the skin was practically gleaming in the sun as your mouth watered for its taste. Aemond handed one to you as he sat by your side underneath the plentiful shade of the heart tree. Scooting over to make room on the overgrown root you sat on, you eagerly showed him strange text.

“Look Aemond!” you exclaimed as you shoved the book to his nose. “This book says that there were dragons in Yi Ti! Isn’t that amazing?”

Aemond looked at you as if you had suddenly grown two heads and five eyes. “How can there be dragons in Yi Ti? All the dragons save the ones in the dragonpit and the rocky shores of Dragonstone had perished in The Doom that sunk Valyria. Everyone knows that pearl.”

“These dragons are different! According to my kepa, Yi Ti dragons don’t even need wings to fly!”

The young prince rolled his eyes at that. “How could they fly if they don’t have wings? Even Carraxes the Blood Wrym has wings, and he looks like an overgrown red snake.” Honestly, his pearl could be so silly. “Besides, what would your father know? He’s a bastard from the Iron Islands, that’s nowhere near the Jade Seas.”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. “He heard so on his travels with Lord Velaryon and Prince Laenor! Apparently, these dragons use magic and live in the ocean. And they don’t even breathe fire! They make it rain and control the oceans!”

“…Pearl, I think you’ve been spending too much time making those dyes. The fumes must have gotten to your head.”

You openly gaped at your friend’s comment, completely in shock for how blatantly he dismissed you. It made you want to pound your fists on his person until he took it back. So naturally, you did just that.

“Aemond Targaryen, you take that back right now!” you shrieked. Although your actions told otherwise, the smile on your face showed that you took no true offense to his words. If anything, it pleased you to know that you could still make the stone-faced prince giggle as a boy should at his age.

“Never!”

As the two of you giggled and played, several pairs of wandering eyes spied and grimaced at the distasteful display. Although your friendship with the next generation of the royal family was no secret, much of the court disapproved of how highly the royal family thought of you and Prince Aemond’s friendship. After all, he was the second born prince of House Targaryen, born of King Viserys and Queen Alicent. By the time the Targaryen prince could toddle, great things were expected from him. From a very early age, he immersed himself in his studies befitting of a prince of Westeros. You, on the other hand, were only the daughter of a seamstress and a bastard knight who became a lord of a holding so minor that it had no name. You only skills were that you could make pretty dye, and stitch pretty pictures with a needle and thread.

But he always treated you kindly and defended you whenever his eldest brother decided to use you as his latest target for mockery. You were a precious pearl – his precious pearl – Aegon may be his brother, but he could never love Aegon as much as he loved you. True, your father being a bastard did you no favors in the Red Keep’s court, but Aemond would never tell you that himself. Instead, he openly acknowledged his bravery and commended his loyalty to the Crown. After all, how many bastards can boast that they saved the Lord Corlys Velaryon, holder of the Driftwood Throne, from a siege of pirates during one of the lord’s many voyages to Essos?

In turn, you always made sure to provide comfort and support whenever his brother and nephews decided to pick on him. Without fail, he would seek out your company – his eyes red and puffy, while his cheeks were wet from hastily wiped tears. You would take his hands and the two of you would venture out to the library’s more secluded sections. You made sure to pack whatever you have been working on with you. While you were glad that he came to you for comfort, it would do little good for either of you if you were to be punished for not completing whatever tasks your mother assigned you.

“Who cares if you don’t have a dragon?” you once asked him as the two of you laid next to each other, surrounded by books. “There are plenty members of the Targaryen line that did not have dragons, but they still lived out important lives in serving their family however they could. King Jaehaerys was considered a great ruler for how he served the realm– not for riding Vermithor. And even if you had a dragon, is that all you wish to be known for? Your grandfather, Baelon the Brave, was wise and beloved by the small folk for how he tried to make their lives easier. But all he is known for in history books is how he burned down Dorne with Vhagar.”

“Better to be known for a dragon than to disappear, not being known for anything – not even a dragon worthy of the Targaryen name.”

Sitting up against a bookshelf, you repositioned Aemond to lie his head on your thighs. Luckily the candlelight made the area dark enough so that you wouldn’t see his ears turning red. Instead, he buried his face in the soft cotton of your blue tunic as you stroked his soft silver white locks. Although his heart was beating erratically, your sweet scent along with your body’s suppleness was enough to take away any ire left in him.

“Stop that,” you ordered, “you will not be forgotten, don’t be so dramatic.” Eyes softening at his tense shoulders, you eased on the sternness of your tone. “Nyke pendagon iksā brilliant. Eman dōrī rhēdan anyone else qilōni kostagon ȳdragon Valyrio Eglie hae sȳrī hae ao.  Kostā solve problems bona aegon ēza trouble lēda during aōha lessons lēda se Giēñatī.  Aemond, iksā ñuha sȳrje raqiros.  Gaomagon daor ivestragon kesā sagon daor rūnas.”

You pretended not to notice how tightly he clenched your dress as you ignored the how warm the spot where his hot tears grew.

As you continued to stroke his hair, Aemond made a silent vow that when he finally claimed a dragon, you would be the first person he would ride it with. He thought about how his bastard nephews would always try to take you from him, especially Jace, how he despised that boy. No, your touches would belong to him, and only him. Your sweet words and kind demeanor were his to cherish. You were his pearl – his pearl – and no one else’s, especially not the pretend Targaryen that was Jacaerys Strong.

Yes, it pleased Aemond to know that he was your best friend. But sometimes it frustrated him in how you refused to take him seriously as a man. For example, he once announced that when he claimed his dragon, he would finally be a noble dragon knight who would protect you from the most vicious of beasts. No matter how he insisted on his sincerity, you only rolled your eyes at the proclamation. You told him that you had no need for a knight, let alone a dragon knight. You had your dearest kepa for protection, and there was no finer knight in all the Seven Kingdoms in your eyes. So silly was his pearl indeed.

“Ashi’!” a new voice called out, interrupting the comfortable silence between him and his pearl. It belonged to the king’s eldest grandson, Prince Jacaerys Strong Velaryon, heir to the Iron Throne after his mother, Princess Rhaenyra. “Your mother is looking for you! She said that she needs your help with Mother’s clothes!”

“Alright!” When you stood from you spot, you made sure to brush away any dirt or debris left on your skirts. You gathered your mother’s book in both arms when you made your way to the prince. “But why did my muña not send one of her attendants instead? It would not have been difficult to find me. Everyone knows that I enjoy reading under the Hearts Tree in the Godswood during my spare time. Are you not busy with your own duties, my prince?”

Straightening his posture to appear taller, Jace did his best to sound as authoritative as his father had taught him. “I just finished my lessons for the morning, and I volunteered to escort you. Besides, I figured that it would do me some good in practicing escorting you. I’ll need to do it in the future when I am king after my mother.” His round freckled cheeks reddened to a rosy hue at that last part.

Not at all catching the terribly obvious implication, you shrugged off his words as you figured that he meant that he was using you as practice for whichever future noble lady he would court in the future. However, the suggestion was not at all lost on your friend, who was still sitting on the overgrown root, glaring at his eldest nephew with a fury that rivaled the Great Doom that sunk Valyria.

“Well, we should be on our way then. Come on Aemond, we should get going!” You held out your held for your friend to hold on to, but were quickly interrupted by the brown-haired Targaryen at the side.

“He can’t! I mean-” stammered Jace as did his best in thinking of an excuse, “-I’m afraid my uncle cannot join us. You see, um – his mother, the Queen, requested his presence in her solar.”

“I’m sure my mother won’t mind waiting for a few moments while I join you in escorting my pearl to her favorite friend, nephew.” This wasn’t a lie on Aemond’s part. While he didn’t like the idea in keeping his mother waiting for him, he despised the thought of you being alone with the Strong Knight’s eldest bastard even more. Besides, his mother adored you as if you were her own daughter. It would have gone without saying that she would be happy with her son spending time with her best friend’s daughter.

“But why would you want to risk it, uncle?” Jacaerys wasn’t going to let his selfish uncle hog all of your attention. You were his friend too! It wasn’t fair that he had find crumbs of your time and affections, while his uncle got to feast on your smiles and laughter. He had spent hours with the dragon keepers of the dragonpit to help him train Vermax, all so that he could finally show you how close he was in riding him! But you were always too busy comforting his stupid dragonless uncle!

Enough was enough. Jacaerys may have been a Velaryon like his father, but he was also a Targaryen like his mother. It was he who carried the dragon’s blood, and dragons took what they desired or felt what they deserved. And he desrved to be with you more than Aemond.

“It’s alright Aemond, we’ll talk more later! Let’s go Jace, we shouldn’t keep our mothers waiting any more than we have.” Grabbing his hand before walking out of the gardens, you weren’t able to see the younger prince throw a triumphant smirk to his uncle before once more facing you with the story of how Luke accidentally got egg in his hair.

Watching his literal bastard of a nephew walk hand-in-hand away with his pearl, Aemond Targaryen felt his fury grow more potent with each step. He hated that you called his nephew by his nickname, all while he had none. What’s worse was the fact that you allowed him to refer to you as “Ashi.” What a ridiculous name, only a lowborn such as his nephew would refer to someone as precious as you as something as study and simple like “Ashi.” You were a pearl – his pearl, in fact. A fact that he felt was important to emphasize as he watched your head being thrown back in laughter. His anger grew to an all-time high when he watched you ruffle Jacaery’s hair with abundant affection.

Not wanting to make a scene, he walked to his mother’s chambers in fuming silence. While her presence wasn’t yours, maybe he could think of a plan to get you away from his whore of a sister and her illegitimate offspring.

If worse comes to worst, he might need to recruit his sister to his cause. He knew that Helaena would especially be thrilled in receiving your presence. You were the only one besides your parents that did not treat his beloved sister like an oddity. If you were not with Aemond, you were often found stitching with the young princess. It seemed that you were the only person in the entire world that could get her to smile.

Such a sweet girl, his pearl. Someone so kind was not meant to endure the presence of lowly bastards – even if they did technically carry royal blood.

He needed to come up with something fast.

Translations:

“Nyke pendagon iksā brilliant. Eman dōrī rhēdan anyone else qilōni kostagon ȳdragon Valyrio Eglie hae sȳrī hae ao.  Kostā solve problems bona aegon ēza trouble lēda during aōha lessons lēda se Giēñatī.  Aemond, iksā ñuha sȳrje raqiros.  Gaomagon daor ivestragon kesā sagon daor rūnas.” - “You’re brilliant. I’ve never met anyone else who can speak such fluent High Valyrian, especially at your age. You can solve problems that Aegon has trouble with during your lessons with the Maester. Aemond, you are my best friend. Don’t say that you will be forgotten.”

Tagging:

@valeskafics, @faesspace, @aphroditesmoon, @dreaming-for-an-escape, @nellychick, @asa-do-your-thing, @arcielee, @bellamys-girl1, @immyowndefender, @xxlovingfandomsxx, @elinedjarin, @meg-egg-blog, @marvelescape, @mandiiblanche, @lokiofasgard12, @boxedpandas, @anewpersonthatexists, @toodlesxcuddles, @mckiquinn, @cvspians, @aemondslove

[ofliterarynature]

TBR TAKEDOWN: Week 1 (June 2)

TLDR: I have too many unread books, and I’m asking tumblr to help me downsize. Pick one or none, we are keeping it simple and friendly! Book descriptions below the cut, see my pinned post for more info. Comments and questions welcome!

A collection of blue covers to start us off!

The Language of Thorns by Leigh Bardugo

Tbh I’ve kind of given up on Bardugo at this point, especially the grishaverse, but I like myths/folktales.

Love speaks in flowers. Truth requires thorns.

Travel to a world of dark bargains struck by moonlight, of haunted towns and hungry woods, of talking beasts and gingerbread golems, where a young mermaid's voice can summon deadly storms and where a river might do a lovestruck boy's bidding but only for a terrible price.

Inspired by myth, fairy tale, and folklore, #1 New York Times—bestselling author Leigh Bardugo has crafted a deliciously atmospheric collection of short stories filled with betrayals, revenge, sacrifice, and love.

Perfect for new readers and dedicated fans, these tales will transport you to lands both familiar and strange—to a fully realized world of dangerous magic that millions have visited through the novels of the Grishaverse.

When I’m Gone Look for Me in the East by Quan Barry

I really enjoyed the author’s first book! I admit I’m less drawn to this one based just on the description, but not uninterested. The most recent addition to my shelves this week.

From the acclaimed author of We Ride Upon Sticks comes a luminous novel that moves across a windswept Mongolia, as estranged twin brothers make a journey of duty, conflict, and renewed understanding.

Tasked with finding the reincarnation of a great lama—a spiritual teacher who may have been born anywhere in the vast Mongolian landscape—the young monk Chuluun sets out with his identical twin, Mun, who has rejected the monastic life they once shared. Their relationship will be tested on this journey through their homeland as each possesses the ability to hear the other’s thoughts.

Proving once again that she is a writer of immense range and imagination, Quan Barry carries us across a terrain as unforgiving as it is beautiful and culturally varied, from the western Altai mountains to the eerie starkness of the Gobi Desert to the ancient capital of Chinggis Khaan. As their country stretches before them, questions of faith—along with more earthly matters of love and brotherhood—haunt the twins.

Are our lives our own, or do we belong to something larger? When I’m Gone, Look for Me in the East is a stunningly far-flung examination of our individual struggle to retain our convictions and discover meaning in a fast-changing world, as well as a meditation on accepting what simply is.

The Assassin’s Curse by Cassandra Rose Clarke

I don’t know? I’ve had these for so long. But it’s got sailing ships, pirates, and assassins, so…

Ananna of the Tanarau abandons ship when her parents try to marry her off to an allying pirate clan: she wants to captain her own boat, not serve as second-in-command to her handsome yet clueless fiance. But her escape has dire consequences when she learns the scorned clan has sent an assassin after her. And when the assassin, Naji, finally catches up with her, things get even worse. Ananna inadvertently triggers a nasty curse -- with a life-altering result. Now Ananna and Naji are forced to become uneasy allies as they work together to break the curse and return their lives back to normal. Or at least as normal as the lives of a pirate and an assassin can be.

[transformersandturtles]

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - Not All is Lost

(Nail for short)

They’re finally here!! The revamped version of my ninja turtles!! Be sure to tap on the I,ages for better quality.

To start off, here is the height chart! It’s not perfect, but it helps give the idea of just how tall they are. I will update this with Splinter and Barry later this week or next week.

I only really teased Raph more than the others but I wanted them to be a bit of a surprise. Some changes have been made since the turtle pile drawing. So, we’ll start with Raph.

Raphael, 15, He/They, 4’11 (150 cm)

The second middle child and oldest of the twins. He was born without his left arm, which has caused no problems for him until he started wearing prosthetics. He doesn’t wear his prosthetic arm all the time, only for training and going to the surface. He has two sais, though one is basically a back up in case he loses the other or it breaks. Their prosthetic, made by Donnie of course, can turn into a sai or blade, depending on what they need. (ADD + IED)

Michelangelo, 15, He/She/They, 5 (152 cm)

Here is Mikey, the youngest of the four and the younger twin. He still uses Michelangelo as his full name, but will often go by Mikey, Michelle, Mickey, Mike, Micha, etc. just fun nicknames. She is much more driven by fashion and art, making most of the clothes everyone wears. She doesn’t like not wearing clothes, it makes her feel weirder than she already is. They’ve always been around to help Raph when he needed it, but has also caused him some problems from time to time. They’d do anything to keep him happy. Like her craftwork, she is also very skilled in using multiple weapons besides her traditional nunchucks. She can use Raph’s sais, Leo’s katanas, or Donnie’s Bo Staff if it was ever required of her to do so. (ADHD + OCD)

Leonardo, 16, He/Him, 5’2 (157 cm)

Here is Leo, the leader of the group and the medic. He is the second oldest, but takes the most responsibility of the four. He’s not much of a talker so figuring out what he wants or what he’s referring to is pretty difficult. He also has a small herbal garden that he takes care of as well as many other plants that basically cover everywhere in his room, besides his books. He is much more serious than the others, but enjoys pulling a few jokes here and there to try to lighten the mood. He tries to keep everyone out of trouble. He is also a major egg. Like. . . Painfully unaware. (anxiety)

Donatello, 17, They/Them, 6 (182-183 cm)

And now lastly we have the oldest, Donnie! The mechanic and tech genius. They make almost everything around the lair with what they are able to get their claws on. Despite their big stature, they are a total softie. . . Unless, know, you make them upset then their nut-case evil scientist comes out. As much as they love technology and the possibility of the future, they are much more driven to study the past and hope to one day be someone to discover an ancient civilization, or find a whole new dinosaur or sea creature, or prove if myths/urban legends are true! But for now, all they can do is hope and plan for the future. (ASD)

And there you have it!! I will be making full bodies of April and Casey soon with some updates to their designs, as well as start teasing Splinter and Barry! Barry will play a much bigger role in the turtles’ lives.

[katriniac]

OMG you are in folk fairytales and legend Please can you tell me some of the cuteer ones you found even better if involving bears ? I loved interact with your OC too thanks fir joining and pls relax too from time to time and do not rush in answering me either 🙏🙏 I wish you a wonderful day 🤗🤗😘😘

Yesssss, I love them! Since a very young age I have been an avid reader/student of folklore, fairy tales, myths, and legends. 

Below I talk more about my personal history/feelings on the topic, and end with my three favorite fairy tales. I hope they are “cute” enough for you!

But first I wanted to answer your question about stories featuring bears.

I tried to think of one in my memory where a bear played a prominent part, but turned up empty. I mean, yes, there is the standard “Goldilocks and the Three Bears”, but I assumed you wanted to hear about something off the beaten path. 

So I dug around and found this one for you:

"The Bear in the Forest Hut". 

It is a Slavic folk tale about a prince who was cursed to take the shape of a bear, and the brave and kind woman who helped him out of that curse. She had the typical misfortune to have a stupid father and an ‘evil stepmother’ who tries to stop anything good from happening to the heroine. 

I liked this one because there is plenty of detail about the trials and tests the girl goes through in order to earn the bear’s trust and break his curse. Even more unique is how the story doesn’t just end right when the curse is broken (like so many folk tales). Instead, it goes on at length about how the two get married, travel over his kingdom, and what happens to the stepmother and stepsister.

@queengiuliettafirstlady What are some of your favorite fairy tales and myths?

How did I come to love fairy tales so much?

I think I can trace it back to my godmother, who was an amazing storyteller. She was Irish, so most of the tales she told me came from the British Isles and dated back to the 12th Century or earlier. The stories I most vividly remember her telling me were about the 3rd Century charismatic (but slightly foolish) folk hero Finn MacCool (or Fionn mac Cumhaill) and his very very clever wife Sadhbh. 

As I entered my preteen years (1990s, pre-internet era) a library was built within a 15 minute drive from our rural town. I had never had such a frequent exposure to books before that, except our small school library. My mom would take me to the new public library often and I devoured every book they had on fairy tales and legends.

When I started college, the trend of turning ancient folktales into modern, dark retelling had begun to rise in popularity. Not only was my backpack full of those every week, but now I also had access to scholarly papers through our inter-collegiate online system! I could read published research on people all over the world, those who retraced Charles Perrault’s steps, or compared similar narratives, or discovered a new translation of an old work. It was also during my college years that I discovered The Aaarne-Thompson-Uther index, which categorizes the plots and themes of fairy tales. 

When I learned about Perrault and the ATU Index, it changed my self-image.

Of course kids like fairy tales, but we are expected to grow out of those stories as we mature. I still had a deep love of folklore and myths well into my 20s and that made me feel a little silly and childish. But when I discovered that Charles Perreault (a historian in the 17th Century) believed the stories being shared in the oral tradition were important enough to be written down for posterity, that boosted my spirits. And when I stumbled across the ATU Index (begun in 1910, and continues to be updated annually still to this day), which took fairy tales seriously as anthropological artifacts, I was vindicated even more. 

These historical efforts were proof that folk lore, legends, and fairy tales weren't just for children. 

This short article is a MUST-READ for anyone who wants to have their love for storytelling rekindled and get pumped up to talk about fairy tales. It’s all about hope and courage.  I especially appreciated the excerpt from Katherine Rundell when she talks about “the hope that is sharper than teeth”

As I studied more and more obscure stories from around the world, I soon had a list of my top 4 favorites that I came back to:

Katie Crackernuts

The Twelve Dancing Princesses 

Beauty and the Beast 

The Myth of the Selkie

The middle two I have owned a few printed copies of. They are quite common and have many retellings/variations. But Katie Crackernuts was a story I could only read online; I had never seen it in print. 

There are actually similarities between parts of all three stories, which is probably why I love them so much.

I know you asked for ‘cute’ ones, but I don’t know if these really are that adorable. They all have happy endings for the heroines. Does that count? LOL

Katie Crackernuts (collected by Andrew Lange, first printed 1889)

This is a Scottish story about two sisters, one plain but clever (Katie) and one beautiful but simple (Anne). Despite this difference, they loved and supported one another as much as two sisters could. Through no fault of her own, Anne was cursed (you guessed it, by an evil stepmother) with the head of a sheep (or sometimes a donkey or goat, depending on the version) because the stepmother was jealous of her beauty. Katie put a hood over Anne to disguise her and left the house together, never to return.

They eventually came to the kingdom where there was a sick prince. His parents offered rich rewards for anyone who could heal his mysterious disease. Katie knew there had to be a reason normal medicine wasn’t working. She thought perhaps he was under a curse, too. Yep, he was going out at night in a trance to go under a hill to dance with fairies. So she watched and listened and investigated until she discovered the cure and how to administer it. Turns out the way to lift her sister’s curse was under that hill, as well!

She out-smarted the fairies, collected the items from them, and followed the instructions precisely. He grew well and discovered he loved her during all their time together while she was patiently investigating. When she used the cure on her sister, Anne’s sheep head turned back into a human one and the prince’s brother fell in love with her on the spot (of course he did). It was a lovely double-wedding. 

The Twelve Dancing Princesses (collected by the Brothers Grimm, first printed 1812)

This is about twelve sisters who are constantly tired and ruining their expensive shoes every night, and no one can find out why. The king has offered rich rewards and even marriage to the most beautiful of his daughters, but any man who steps up to the challenge either dies, fails the task, or is never seen again. Until one clever man (who has been watching this happen over and over) decides to try solving the mystery. The eldest sister (the most intelligent and haughty of the siblings) tries to stop him each time, but he outsmarts her as he follows the princesses into a fairy forest where they dance all night until their shoes fall apart and they drop from exhaustion.

Just like Katie in the story before, he is observant and waits until he has all the information and proof he needs to confront the princesses. He convinces the king, who is angry that his daughters were escaping every night. The man explains they were under a spell that compelled them to sneak out. The king offers him the most beautiful daughter (who is also the youngest and the most silly), but the man opts to marry the eldest because she was the only one who came close to matching wits.

Katie Crackernuts has much in common with The Twelve Dancing Princesses.

Both have very strict rules for entering into the world of fairies, and the “wasting sickness” that comes upon a human who spends too much time in that world (which is also a metaphor for other maladies that were rampant during those centuries, such as tuberculosis). I enjoy that theme of “Good luck if you’re beautiful because your looks won’t save you. You need to be wise, patient, and clever in this world.”

Beauty and the Beast

This was one of my favorites long before Disney made their movie. Almost everyone knows how the story goes, so I won’t make this long post even longer by summarizing it here. The bravery and selflessness of the heroine was very inspiring to me, and I loved the idea of being surrounded by talking furniture and not a single human! I was a very introverted kid. And I guess I loved the idea of a sad prince in an unloveable disguise who needed to feel loved.

Another thing I think is neat about that story is there is an actual author: Gabrielle-Suzanne de Villeneuve, published the story in 1740. Most folklore and fairy tales have a shared origin and no single creator. Not so for Beauty and the Beast. This one has a bonafide author, which makes it unique. Not only that, but the author was a woman! 

What Beauty and the Beast has in common with Katie Crackernuts is charity, mercy, humility, and selflessness.

The heroine not only saves herself, but she saves those who are entrusted to her. Who needs a prince, right?? Katie didn’t have to leave home to take care of her cursed sister, but she did. She didn’t have to agree to help the sick prince, but she did. Belle didn’t have to sacrifice herself in her father’s place in that unreasonable pact, but she did. She could have been disagreeable, rude, and throwing herself a pity party the entire time she was captive in the Beast’s castle, but instead she did her best to keep her spirits up and not hate her captor. (Readers: don’t come at me with the whole “Stockholm Syndrome” comment trying to be witty; it’s an old joke that was never funny in the first place.) Katie also tried hard to make the best of an awful situation, and she was never resentful to Anne or put her on a guilt trip. I was inspired by the important values and virtues portrayed by these two heroines.

The Legend of the Selkie

You asked for ‘cute’ stories, but this last one is anything but cute. The Celtic legend of the Selkie is heartbreaking, and there is hardly ever a happy ending. I heard briefly about it as a kid, but never found a published story to read. The oral tradition of the tale goes back to the 13th Century, but it didn’t make it into many books. Then the movie The Secret of Roan Inish came out in 1995. I was 15 at the time and didn’t have my driver’s license yet, so I begged a family member to bring me to the only theater in the entire state that was showing this independent film, over an hour away. It was magical. I bought the DVD as soon as it was available. It was the only thing I could find at that time (remember, the internet wasn’t really used for entertainment in 1995 like it is now) that displayed the Selkie myth, which is:

There are some special seals in the sea who can shed their seal-skin and turn themselves into human women. They are beautiful, quiet, and hard-working. And therefore they are much sought-after as wives by the lonely fishermen of the islands. The legend says that if you find a Selkie in her human form and take her seal-skin away from her, she is yours for the rest of your life. You can imagine the life of servitude that awaits the poor woman! She is usually desperate to turn the house inside out looking for her seal skin and return to the sea, or if she doesn’t find it she will murder her husband.

Fascinating!

Oof, okay. That post went on really long. Sorry. When I start to talk about fairy tales and folklore, I have a difficult time keeping it short, lol. And I didn't even get into the Greek myths! Yikes.

[bookviaus]

Conquering the best cost-effective booking deals with Cheap Flights to India from the USA

India, the land of vibrant spices, ancient wonders, and bustling metropolises, has a siren song that resonates in the soul of every traveler. But for those in the USA, the journey across the globe can seem daunting, often overshadowed by the myth of sky-high flight prices. Fear not, wanderlust-stricken friend, for this microblog unveils the secrets to nabbing cheap flights to India from the USA, transforming your dream trip into a reality.

Unveiling the Treasure Map: When to Book Your Indian Odyssey

Monsoon Magic (June to August): Embrace the rhythmic downpours with discounted fares, perfect for budget-conscious explorers.

Festival Frenzy (October to November): Immerse yourself in the dazzling lights of Diwali or witness Dussehra's epic parades, but book early - demand and prices soar during these joyous seasons.

Shoulder Season Serenity (September to October, March to May): Escape the peak crowds and revel in pleasant weather while prices dip, offering a sweet spot for value and tranquility.

Choosing Your Chariot: Airlines That Take You Beyond the Clouds

Direct Delights: Airlines like Air India, United, and Delta offer non-stop comfort from major US hubs to Delhi and Mumbai, ideal for those seeking speed and convenience.

Gulf Gateways: Emirates, Qatar, and Etihad provide luxurious layovers in Dubai, Doha, or Abu Dhabi, perfect for breaking up the journey and adding a touch of extravagance.

Budget Beacons: Consider airlines like Saudia, Turkish Airlines, and Sri Lankan Airlines for value-driven options with convenient connections, proving that affordability doesn't mean sacrificing comfort.

Pro-Tips for Booking Nirvana: Mastering the Art of the Deal

Flexibility is Key: Be open to adjusting travel dates and airports by a few days or weeks, as slight shifts can unlock significant savings.

Midweek Magic: Tuesdays and Wednesdays often reveal hidden discounts compared to weekend travel, making them prime days to pounce on deals.

Incognito Advantage: Browse flights in incognito mode – airlines sometimes adjust prices based on browsing history, making this a sneaky trick for potentially lower fares.

Fare Tracker Frenzy: Utilize tools like Google Flights and Kayak to monitor price fluctuations and set alerts for your desired route, ensuring you snag the best deals as they emerge.

Airline Alliance Loyalty: Joining an airline alliance (Star Alliance, Oneworld, SkyTeam) can unlock benefits like shared lounges, priority boarding, and occasional upgrades, enhancing your travel experience even on budget flights.

Bonus Round: Unlocking Treasure Chests of Exclusive Deals

Student Savvy: Many airlines offer discounted fares for students with valid IDs, making India an accessible adventure for young backpackers.

Senior Season Perks: Airlines and travel agencies sometimes cater to seniors with special rates, proving that age is just a number when exploring the world.

Group Getaways: Traveling with friends or family? Bundle your flights for potential discounts, making India a budget-friendly option for shared adventures.

Credit Card Connoisseurship: Some credit cards offer travel rewards or points that can be redeemed for flights, turning everyday purchases into fuel for your Indian odyssey.

Beyond the Booking: Pro-Tips for a Budget-Friendly Indian Adventure

Accommodation Alchemy: Hostels and homestays offer affordable comfort.

Local Eats Delights: Ditch the fancy restaurants and embrace the vibrant street food scene, where delicious meals cost a fraction of the price.

Public Transport Prowess: Master the art of navigating India's extensive bus and train networks, offering an immersive experience and significant savings compared to taxis.

Free Experiences Bounty: India is rich in free or low-cost attractions, from ancient temples to bustling markets, ensuring your cultural immersion.

With these secrets in your arsenal, conquering the cost of flights to India from USA becomes a thrilling experience. Remember, flexibility, patience, and a dash of pro-tip magic are your keys to unlocking an unforgettable Indian odyssey. So, pack your bags, adventurous soul, for the land of Taj Mahals and masala magic awaits!

[antiloreolympus]

10 Anti LO Asks

1. I kinda hate how Hades has only had 2 relationships before Persephone and one being his brother’s brother and the other being toxic on both ends. I sorta wish Leuce was in there as like an ex with no drama like the two just didnt work out or something chill (break ups are hard but there’s less dramatic break ups). Idk I just feel like a little internal conflict like that would have some spice to the story but also make me root for the couple a bit more.

Going deeper into it, as a reader we know Minthe as his evil gf whose never gonna work out and Hera and Hades are toxic secret affair, but what if Hades did have a functional relationship with someone who wasn’t toxic but they didn’t work out and she didn’t want to stay in the underworld/be queen. I just feel like that would add a complex layer to the story, not making it all black and white.

With Persephone having more dating experience it’s kinda hard because everyone wants her BUT they aren’t allowed to date her to keep her pure/her mother would kill them/TOGEM. But if RS ever wrote more Persphone and Hermes I’d just want them together like forget hades. 

2. Ive seen some LO fans say "NOW the actual myth will begin" and it's like??? Wasn't that already done in the first three episodes? Why would you RESTART IT? More so, it is objectively awful writing to publish nearly every week for FOUR YEARS to actually get to the main point of the story, which even then will probably take month at best to even start. This is just such a train-wreck in terms of planning, writing, development, and even basic story creation yet the fan will insist it's genius!

3. What I find so aggravating about LO and its fans is they are convinced it's the most unique, groundbreaking work ever, when it's anything but that. Modern settings, Technicolor skintones, "humanizing" the gods, etc have all been a Thing for decades, sometimes even centuries before LO even existed. Even the idea it "deals with heavy topics' is false since the original myths already did so and didn't treat it as haphazardly like Rachel does. They want it to be anything but what it really is.

4. I see so many of the fans excuse Rachel making it just modern NYC as "it's a fictional world so she can do what she wants"  begs the question: do they think Ancient Greece is a fantasy land that never existed? It very much did, and had cultural and social differences from modern day. Even modern Greece is different from America. She does't even try to keep any of it intact despite it being set in that exact time and place. At some point we have to admit the "Greek" part is lip service at best.

5. the "anti" community for LO is overwhelmingly queer, BIPOC women and NBs who used to like the series who where in turn forced out of the fandom because of the almost entirely cishet, white fanbase who refused to even court the idea of differing opinions. The idea all of us marginalized people are "oppressing" a privileged white woman and her entitled fanbase because we critique how she' butchered countless real issue and a real country's stories for her white "feminism" fantasy is laughable.

6. i do not get why all the new book covers we're getting for lo are so boring?? like at least the first normal cover was visually grabbing (even if just lie about what the comic is actually about and has some questionable symbolism in it) but the newer ones are so boring. they don't even have backgrounds now and the logo is so randomly placed and I don't get why. they have book cover artists on staff surely they could help her do it? or work off her sketches and make something better?

7. rachel retweeting a single old picture from cyprus: see! i can about greece! anyway let's ignore that while I retweet 20 pictures in a row about how eris is literally an apple and how hades just needs so many babies RIGHT NOW.

8. rachel spends more time posting about her nails on twitter than even bothering to retweet even one post from her co-workers to give them a needed promo to her massive audience. it's just off putting to me how every other webtoons creators minus her, mongie, and snailords will do anything to support and promo each other while they refuse to do the bare minimum even as the webtoon company bends over backwards to make sure they get them everything they want while ignoring the rest.

9. Even ignoring the issues Rachel added into the story for her own weird reasons, how naive are her and her fans to think whitewashing and romanticizing perhaps the most infamous of all Greek myths into an idealized romance aimed towards pre-teens at the youngest wouldn't come with built in criticism? Like there's a reason the myth is so hotly debated, and it's not because of "misogyny", it's because of how misogyny is used to demonize a mother for the sake of a romanticizing a male abuser..

10. I love how LO fans say "hera only cheated with one person! so that's different from zeus's many affairs!" like no it's not lmao. a person who killed one person and serial killer both get life in prison regardless of how many victims they have. rachel also seems to be implying hera is having an emotional affair with echo which by her own in comic logic is just as bad as a physical affair, so wouldn't that be at least two people? regardless two wrongs do not make a right, hera is also bad here.

[barbarianprncess]

did you mean it?

read on ao3.

It’s a total of 3 significant events that led to this, her forehead knocked against his, breaths heavy and mingled, eyes wide and hearts bleeding.

It’s a total of 3 significant events that led to this, her forehead knocked against his, breaths heavy and mingled, eyes wide and hearts bleeding.

The first event isn’t really an event at all. It’s a prologue, necessary context to truly understand the monumentalism of this moment. It’s the memory of her eyes, piercing and reproachful, being the first thing that he saw after losing his mother. It’s shared trauma and oreos while they’re young and naive. It’s truces and training and growing up too soon together. It’s stargazing and stupid jokes saving eachother in every possible way. It's the culmination of the years Percy spent growing, learning, and being with Annabeth, and the unknown and therefore repressed feelings that came with it. Feelings are like the sea in that way, they don’t take well to being restrained. Percy has found that you cannot box in oceans or sentiments, they always find a way to spill over and out, with no regard for the destruction left in its wake.

The second event is Dionysus deciding on a whim that the inhabitants of his camp are ‘uncultured pests’ and taking it upon himself to set up a field trip for campers to the Ancient Greek Cultural Center in New York. (Percy thinks it’s really just to distract kids that were still shaken up about the battle at camp and the losses it caused. But, Dionysus would never say so. He’s far too proud to admit to caring for the children he’s been assigned to look after.) Argus loaded all the kids he could fit into the strawberry vans, as Chiron listed all the reasons this was a terrible idea. As it turns out, his worries were in vain as miraculously, no monsters attacked, and no mortal asked too many questions. No, instead, the only hitch in his plan was the glaring inaccuracies of the Center sending Dionysus into a fit of rage. He ranted for so long, their 2 hour long field trip ended up lasting until the place closed.

Event the third is the ridiculously long line leading to the mens room at the rundown gas station they’ve stopped at, causing Percy to traipse into the woods, deep enough to know that no one other than the squirrels were watching, and pee there. Unbeknownst to him, Annabeth had decided to take a quick walk in the forest as well, (in the opposite direction of his peeing endeavor) with the purpose of clearing her head. Both returned to the parking lot after 10 minutes, with no truck in sight. The gas station lights are turned off on the inside and the door sign has switched decidedly to closed. They look at each other in disbelief.

“Percy?”

“Yeah?”

“Uh...did they…”    

“They didn’t. They wouldn’t.”

“I think they would.”

“They would never-”

“I have pretty solid evidence to the contrary.” Annabeth deadpans, casually letting her hair loose and hopping on top of the miniature gas machine for motorcycles.

“But, how did-”

“No Argus.” Which means, no all-seeing eyes to double check the headcount. Percy begins to pace.

“Okay, but-”

“Two trucks.” Both of which are probably assuming Percy and Annabeth are on the other.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, gods.”

“Leave them out of this.”

“Those fuckers.”

“Which ones?” She asks. He looks up and she’s fighting a smile. He pointedly doesn’t notice the way her mouth curls up, or the way her hair falls around her shoulders and down her back, or how pretty she looks lit up by the neon red lights of the gas stations prices, which apparently doesn’t turn off when they close.

“Do you know something I don’t?”

“I know lots of things you don’t.”

“Ha-ha. I mean about how to get out of here.”

“Ohhhhh, let me think.” She wrinkles her nose in faux concentration, tilting her chin up towards  the sky. Percy is too annoyed to think it’s adorable. “Nope, not a clue.”

“Your phone?”

“Left it on the truck.”

“Iris message?”

“Percy, it’s dark as shit.” The laughter she’s been holding in comes pouring out. Nevermind that he feels his chest sigh in relief at hearing it for the first time since their quest, this is serious.

“You’re laughing.”

“Just a little.”

“You’re telling me, you don’t have a brilliant plan to get us on a truck.”

“Yes.”

“So, we’re stuck here.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re laughing?”

“You’re just really funny when you’re stressed.” She giggles. He can’t remember the last time she giggled. He missed it. He hates her.

“Oh my gods.”

“Okay, okay, look, I’m sorry. We’re halfway to camp right?” He nods. “I’m sure they’ll figure out we’re missing before they get all the way back to camp, but let's say, worst case scenario, they don’t-”

“Not helping-”

“And they make it the rest of the way back to camp. It took us four hours to get to the center, which means camp is two hours away, so if they make it the two hours back to camp before they realize we’re missing, and they drive back up-”

“C’mon ‘Beth, you know I suck at math.”

“We’re stuck here for five hours at most.”

“Five hours?”

“And that's if no passing cars let us use their phones to hurry the process up.”

“Five hours.”

She’s laughing again. “Seriously, what is so funny?”

“It’s just-” Her cheeks are red and she’s very poorly attempting to suppress her smile. “You’ve been calm in so many life or death situations, and being stuck at a gas station is what finally breaks through.”

“It’s nighttime.” She stares at him for a moment and then she’s laughing again, full bodied real laughter, and he's laughing too.

And it’s as if this gas station became their own personal Ogygia, an oasis, a resting place for them to be stupid kids again. And they don’t talk about the battle, or Rachel, or the volcano, or any of the million things set on tearing them apart. They talked about his mom getting serious about his new boyfriend, about Tyson’s underwater adventures and Grover’s searching shenanigans.

They smack talk with no real heat about who the better fighter is (Oh please, Seaweed Brain, I've been training since before you could tie your own shoes.), and argue about which ancient hero had the greatest journey (Hercules, are you kidding? Did you even read the myth?). They break into the gas station for snacks (What the fuck, Annabeth, where’d you learn to pick a lock? No, I wouldn’t prefer you break the glass, you psycho. Oh my gods, can you really break the glass?), and dissolve into giggles as they try to fit five drachma into the cash register.

They end up back outside sitting on the gas machines facing one another from three feet away.

“Your mom called me the other day.”

Percy, who’d been lazily squinting up at the murky sky, searching for any sign of stars, whipped his head to look at her. “What?”

“She called me on the phone. We talked for a bit. She said she wanted to make sure I was alright.”

“That sounds like something she would do.” He sighs and hops down from the machine, turning away from her, hoping to hide his blush from the dim light. “She cornered me on one of my off weekends, asked what was going on with us.”

“Oh.” He hears the shifting of fabric and assumes she followed him in sliding off the gas machine.

“Yeah.” It’s silent for a long time before she responds.

“What did you say?” She asks, her voice smaller than it was moments ago. He hears her scratching at the flat metal top of the machine. “When she asked, what did you say?”

He runs his finger through his hair, and one gets caught in a particularly large snarl. “Doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me.” She whispers and gods he’s terrified but he really doesn’t have a choice when her voice wavers like that. Her words shake and every ounce of his being tells him to do whatever it takes to soothe it.

“I said we were fighting. That there wasn’t one sole reason for it, just a bunch of little reasons. I told her that I scared you when I….went away for two weeks last summer. And that you didn’t like bringing Rachel on your quest. I told her that we….. disagree about how to best handle Luke. That I probably wanted to protect you more than I wanted to listen to you.” She laughs softly and he blames what he says next on her laugh. It is the catalyst for everything that follows.

“I told her that we’d be okay. Because no matter what happens I’m always gonna love you.”

He hears her breath catch. He doesn’t have to look back to know she’s turned to face him fully. “Did you mean it?” She calls. He doesn’t answer. The words haven’t caught in his throat, they’ve spontaneously combusted in his vocal chords and he doesn’t think he’ll ever speak again.

The sound of gravel crunching gets closer until suddenly she's beside him, and he didn’t tell his torso to twist toward her, he thinks she might just be his center of gravity.

“Did you mean it?”

She’s looking up at him, and her hair smells like lemons, and her cheeks are pink, and her eyelashes go on for miles, and her sunspots are better than stars. And it’s as if she pulls the words right out of him, he’s hypnotized by everything about her.

“Of course I meant it.”

She exhales and closes her eyes and while he mourns the loss of the sight, his body moves on it’s own accord again and he’s edging closer and closer and she opens her eyes and here they are.

Their noses brush, and this time he closes his eyes, and their noses brush just so, and…

Whoa.

He was wrong, it wasn't just those three significant events that to her forehead knocked against his, breaths heavy and mingled, eyes wide and hearts positively bleeding. It’s clear he’s been waiting his entire life for this moment at this shitty gas station.

Waiting for this. Waiting for her.  

They kiss for a moment or an eternity, and they fit. His hands are on her hips and hers clutch at his shirt before sliding up to his throat, and it’s like his soul is whispering, oh there you are.

And then she’s pulling back, so she has just enough space to shake her head without disconnecting from his forehead.

She's breathless when she whispers, “This is a bad idea.”

His hands trail up and down her forearm of their own accord, and when he whispers back he’s breathless too. “Yeah, really bad idea.”

Her hands slide up from his chest to his shoulders, and then she’s kissing him again, with purpose, and he’s kissing back like his life depends on it because he thinks it might, thinks if he lets go of her he’d die on the spot.

It seems his theory might get tested when she pulls back again just far enough to whisper against his lips, “Is it always like that?”

He kisses her again, once, twice, because he can’t help it and whispers back, “I don’t know, you were my first kiss.”

He’d released any serious hold he had on her the moment she hesitated, but then she’s rocking back up to meet him halfway and his entire body thinks thank the gods. He actually sighs his relief into her mouth, as his hands desperately reach for her face, some fingers tangling in her hair, and their lips are magnets, opposites that don’t have a choice but to pull together. Despite how much he wants to keep doing this forever, he has to tell her.

“I don’t wanna lose you, again.” He means not ever, but he figures she understands the severity in his voice. She’s running her hand through his hair, and his slide up and down her back, and she knocks her nose against his as she answers, “I know, me either. I’m confused, this is confusing me.” And she tilts her chin just so, like she did a million years ago, and this time he kisses her.

They kiss for an infinity, he gets to taste her laughter when she giggles at the absurdness of it all, and it’s better than ambrosia. He kisses her until he doesn’t know anything else, until his entire universe is Annabeth Chase, with her cheeks and her curls and her lips. She is everything.

And then headlights penetrate their universe, voices bring an end to their infinity, and Chiron is speaking but it’s nothing, it’s all white noise because she’s no longer in his arms, and his center of gravity is being ripped away and he hears someone ask, “What’d you guys do?”

He’s still looking at her face when she answers, “You know, tried not to strangle each other mostly.”

But, she looks back before she turns all the way around and her gaze is charged and her lips quirk with the secret they share.

He is so screwed.

[mandoalorian]

I'll See You Again, I Promise [Din Djarin x Reader]

!! SPOILERS FOR THE MANDALORIAN SEASON 2 FINALE. DISCRETION ADVISED. !!

Author's note: Spoilers for the Season 2 finale of the Mandalorian. Just like last time, I wrote this in three hours. The episode literally came out three hours ago. I'm so thankful for how many people liked my one shot based around last week's episode— and as promised, this is a continuation of this week's episode (the season finale). You don't have to read the previous part in order to understand this, but if you wish to read it you can find it here.

Masterlist

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 2k

Permanent taglist - let me know if you want to be added: @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes @honeymandos @rocketqueen @ladycumberbatchofcamelot @dybalalover10 @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth

Taglist for this part: @pro-fangirls-unsocial-life @dantakuart @yikesdameron @artsyzartsi @karnita-mexicana @multifandomfollower @saavikchekov @what-is-life-in-general @karnita-mexicana @pcrushinnerd @tillytheslytherin @jedinerd27 @queenofspades20

Din Djarin taglist: @alecdamndario0

gif by @cavill-henry

When you saw Din return, holding the child in one hand, and the ancient Mandalorian weapon in the other hand, relief washed over you. Your whole body deflated and you let out a sigh you didn't even know you were holding in.

"Where are the others?" Din asked, his voice gruff as he pushed a binded Moff Gideon to the ground. You gasped when your eyes met with the ex-ISB officer who you knew had given Din so much trauma and hurt. There was a dark and menacing glint in his eyes that you could see right through.

"With Boba on the ship. They didn't think you'd come back," you admitted sheepishly, biting your lip as you cautiously looked back up at Din. "But I believed in you." You desperately tried to search through his visor and locate his brown eyes.

You wanted to cry; your little family had been restored. Grogu had been rescued. You were once more a clan of three. And now, things could be different. You had seen the beauty that was hidden beneath the beskar. You had seen Din for who he really was. You imagined starting a new life with him and the Child, far far away and out of any danger. You could be happy. Of course, you had to deal with Moff Gideon first.

You took a step closer to Din, breaking any remaining distance and placing a hand on his chest. "I'm so glad you're safe." Din revealed with a shaky exhale as you caressed the child. You wanted nothing more than to curl up into his arms and tell him how much you loved him, how proud you were. Grogu was so lucky to have a father as loving as Din.

"We can leave now," you smiled weakly. "We can be free. Go to the lake county on Naboo and start a new life. Live in peace." You had half forgotten Moff Gideon was even there. You just wanted to live in the moment with Din. All you could see was the love of your life holding his child. Everything else in your peripheral vision was a blur. It didn't matter.

"How cute," Moff Gideon's lips curled into a snarl. "The Mandalorian has a lover? What an unexpected twist of events." Din knocked Gideon to the ground the second those malicious words left his mouth, leaving him doubled over and grumbling in pain.

"We don't have time to stick around, we have to go." Din told you, grabbing your hand and interlocking his gloved fingers with yours. You were ready. You were so ready to leave this life behind and be with Din and Grogu forever. It was the happily ever after you knew Din deserved more than anyone else in the galaxy. Before the blast doors could open, the nav system began to beep hysterically, illustrating that a single light Starfighter was boarding the same Imperial cruiser you and your little family were on.

"It's an X-Wing…" you were rendered speechless. Din considered who it might have been. Had Cara comm’d the New Republic from the ship? If so, why was it only just one fighter? Could it have been the likes of Trapper Wolf who had granted Din a favour back when he encountered trouble on the ice planet of Maldo Kreis? Din was truly clueless.

Grogu began to coo and shuffle around, prompting Din to carefully place his son on the floor. Grogu waddled over to you by the terminal, gargling and pointing his finger up at one of the screens. "What is it buddy?" you asked, leaning down and picking up Grogu. Grogu guided you to the CCTV where you saw a cloaked figure emerge from the X-Wing and ignite a lightsaber. Your heart stopped. "Din…" you said nervously, your grip tightening around Grogu defensively. "You might want to see this."

Din approached the small screen and looked closely. "A Jedi?" he asked, although it almost sounded rhetorical. He looked back at Grogu who was already staring up at him. "Did you… did you bring him here?" Din asked the child, his voice breaking slightly. Grogu made a small and indistinguishable noise in response.

"No," you placed a hand on Din's shoulder with comfort. "No, Grogu wouldn't…" you reassured him.

"The seeing stone," Din deadpanned, his gaze not tearing from his son once. He remembered Ahsoka Tano's words. "Grogu reached out with the force and if a Jedi felt his presence, they'd come looking for him," Din turned to you, his body stiff and his voice shallow. "And they've come."

Your lips parted slightly as you turned back to the screen, watching as the mysterious figure roamed through the halls of the Imperial cruiser. Part of you deep down knew that Din was right. It was the only plausable explanation, but that didn't mean you wanted it to happen. You knew it wouldn't be long until you were found.

"Din, let's go," you said with teary eyes, feeling your anxiety bubble up in your stomach. "Please Din? Can we just go."

Din clenched his fingers into a fist. "No." he said sternly, his voice returning back to being gruff and modulated. He was doing what he always did when fear consumed him. He'd shut himself out and go into hunter/protector mode. He'd become the fighter he was trained to be since he was just a young boy.

"Din." you hated the way his name fell from your tongue, sounding needy and desperate, but you were just as afraid. You didn't want to stay any longer. You had what you needed; Din and the child. You didn't need anything else. You could go now.

Din picked up Grogu and nursed him in his arms, holding him close to his chest. Just like always, Grogu curled up into his father, taking comfort in feeling his beating heart, learning the true feeling of unconditional familial love.

The blast doors shot open and the cloaked figure entered the room. Your fingers dropped to the blaster in your holster as he approached you both. The man put his lightsaber away, signifying surrender, and pulled down his hood, revealing himself. He looked slightly older than you, with pale skin with mousy brown hair. He looked like he had seen a lot in his lifetime.

"Are you a Jedi?" Din asked eventually, breaking the silence through the need of confirmation.

"Yes, my name is Luke Skywalker," he introduced with a small nod. You recognised that name… Skywalker, perhaps from old tales, the likes of myths and folk stories. You didn't spend long contemplating the mystery man's identity. There were more pressing matters at hand and so you opted to brush it off completely. "I have come for the child," Luke announced and Grogu turned from Din, his ears cocking at the mention of him and looked at the man with curiosity. "Hello little one." Luke smiled.

Grogu cooed in response before turning back to his father with big pleading eyes. "He doesn't want to go with you." Din gulped, his heart aching. There was no way to be sure, Din could never know exactly what Grogu wanted. But he was aware of the bond he had with his son, now more than ever he was aware. He knew that there was no way his son would want to leave him. Din loved Grogu. Din loved Grogu with every inch of his being.

"He wants your permission." Luke explained, and Din turned back to look at the little green bean in his arms. His… permission? "He is incredibly strong with the force and without learning how to utiIize his powers he can become a danger to those around him… and a danger to himself. It's important that he understands the nature of the power he possesses."

Luke's words became a blundered fuzz in the back of your mind. This was Grogu— this was Din's little boy. When Din looked into Grogu's eyes, he saw nothing but memories. From the pair of them sipping spotchka, to chasing frogs and playing in the hull of the Razor Crest, everything just felt so distant. Din took a deep breath, his finger softly brushing against Grogu's cheek.

"Hey go on… he's one of your kind," Din winced at his own words. One of your kind— something the Armourer had implanted in Din's head all those months ago. "I'll see you again. I promise."

You felt your heart shatter in your chest. This… wasn't meant to happen. It wasn't meant to end up like this. You wanted to speak, you wanted to say something and put a stop to this absurdity. You knew better than anyone that Din needed Grogu and Grogu needed Din. It felt like your throat had closed up, like you could hardly breathe. All you could do was stand there and watch it play out.

Grogu reached up with a small wail, his green claw tracing the curves and ridges of Din's beskar helmet.

Din knew exactly what his son wanted, and right now, Din was certain he wanted it too. Just for once, he wanted to look at his son with his own eyes. Not the eyes blinded by his visor blade, Din wanted the child to know his face. Recognise him. With a hiss and a click, Din removed his helmet. You swore your heart stopped upon seeing him again. Brown eyes, but this time they were glazed with tears and there was nothing you could do about it.

Grogu reached back up and rested his claw over Din's jaw. Subconsciously, Din leaned his cheek into Grogu's hand, never wanting to pull away from his touch. His heart was broken beyond repair.

"All right pal," Din rasped. "It's time to go." He didn't want this. He couldn't do this. But he had to. He had to be strong for his son. He had to be a good father. "Don't be afraid." Was Din's final words to his son.

He placed Grogu down carefully and nodded towards Luke, accepting his fate. Grogu clutched onto Din's leg, not wanting to let go. His little mind was racing with wonder— why can't his daddy come with him? Why must he go alone? The erratic beeps of a white and blue astromech droid were what eventually tore the curious child from his father. Grogu waddled towards the droid and Luke picked him up.

No matter how hard he tried, Din couldn't seem to swallow the lump in his throat. Everything Din had done so far had led up to the moment, and he wanted to curse himself for letting it affect him this much. He should've been prepared. It's just, he really didn't think this would happen. He really didn't think Grogu would want to leave.

He didn't blame the child of course. He could never blame the child. He just wished he understood. Just before the doors to the elevator closed, Luke spoke up. Unfazed, unbroken. "May the force be with you." he wished. Din ignored the comment. It meant nothing to him. Nothing meant anything anymore. No meaning, no purpose. Luke tapped the key that would shut the doors and Din offered his son once last nod, trying his hardest to break out an impossible smile. When the doors finally closed, Din let out a choked sob and fell to his knees.

You sprinted over to Din, kneeling down and pulling him into you. He cried, hot salty tears falling from his brown eyes and dripping down his face. You pulled his head into your lap and smoothed out his hair trying your hardest to lull him. But you couldn't. You couldn't even bring yourself to comfort him. Your shoulders curled in and you fell limp, whimpering into his hair. You felt completely broken. Grogu was like a son to you, and you cherished him so very much. You couldn't even imagine how Din was feeling.

His little family was no more but he knew that Grogu was going to go on to do bigger and better things. No matter what, Grogu was going to make Din proud.

[kaypeace21]

What's in a name? (Analysing all the names in stranger things)

*I'll be repeating some names more than once as I break down categories .

Show , book, and tv easterggs

Alot of character names may have deeper meaning but some are also refs to stories they liked. The stranger writers twitter posted a list of movies said to inspire s4 (which I’ll be referencing).

Dart- dustin names him this after d'artagenean (a 3 musketeers book character) and one of Dustin's fav candies (3 muskateers). Similarly his pet turtle yurtle is implied to be named after the dr Seuss’ story 'yertle the turtle'.

Brenner- main character from 'the birds', which was on the st s4 list.

Byers- john byers from x files. The duffers mentioned x files was an inspo for the show. Although John byers (from x files) resembles Murray as an unhinged conspiracy theorist. The documentary paradise lost was also cited as inspo for st- john byers and his son, terry, Michael, and Steve were names in said film

Jim Hopper- in Predator (another st inspo) he was a soldier who was flayed to death in the woods. Another character in the film with a similar fate was “Hawkins”.

Detective Wheeler and elle Holloway- from silent Hill franchise. Another ref mentioned by the Duffers. Holloway was the surname of st's Heather. Elle (is el) and Wheeler is Mike's surname. Wheeler was also on the ep of twiglight zone (another cited ref by the duffers) . In the ep 'mute' sheriff wheeler takes in a mute psychic girl as his foster daughter. So some hints at hopper too . Hopper even mentions el-anor (gilipse) in s1. The surname of a main character in the silent hill series.Lt. Colonel Sullivan (s4) could be a eastergg of silent hill 4 which had a Sullivan character.

Henderson- st twitter mentioned how all the bond films were on the s4 inspiration list . So Dustin's surname being the same as one of the bond characters is a nod. Duffers also mentioned ‘freaks & geeks’ as inspo- and 1 character’s surname was also Henderson (another nod).

Mrs Driscoll (from s3) - a nod to invasion of the body snatchers which was mentioned as inspo by the Duffers. And clear inspo for s3.

Powell (cop and partner of hopper ) - diehard films also on s4 list. He's named after the cop powell.

Callahan (cop and partner of Hopper) - father Callahan ref. He shows up in many of Stephen King novels. The Duffers have cited over 10 novels and books from him as inspo for st

Nancy- she's called ‘Nancy drew’ (from the novels). And the duffers have mentioned they are fans of elmstreet - who's main character was Nancy. Nancy also references 'Oliver twist" ,and that book has a character named Nancy in it. Nancy was also a first Lady in the 80s similar to her friend Barbara- who was also a first Lady in the 80s.Nancy's name might also be inspired by "Nancy Wheeler", a secondary character in the 1970 book Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret written by Judy Blume.

Fred (s4)- apparently a high-school journalist who may be friend or foe. This one is a stretch but given nancy maybe being an elmstreet ref- and her enemy being fred-die kreuger. Fred may have animosity to Nancy and that's why his name is Fred. I mean ... they even cast a new s4 character with Freddie kreuger's original actor.so...

Jason (s4) - is in the 1986 Nancy drew novel (when s4 takes place). He is similar to the duffers description. In the novel he's a rich, popular, arrogant jock and blackmailing students at the high-school . S3 even named one of its episodes after a nancy drew novel- so wouldn't surprise me.

Christie carpenter (s4/reffed in s1 by hopper)- christie is the main character in the hellraiser series (which is on the s4 st list). Carpenter is the surname of the director of 'the thing' name dropped in s3. (The flesh monster in s3 also resembles the thing) , and in s1 mr clarke watches it ,and mike has the thing movie poster in his basement.

Argyle (s4) - die hard 1-2 were on the s4 st list. And is a name of a diehard character.

Max- her name is 'mad max' like the 80s film. But since the Duffers like videogames. Her name may be a ref to max caufield from the ‘life is strange’ game as well. She has a 'never Maxine rule' similar to max in st. But the game character is similar to jonathan as she is a teen photographer and says similar words to jonathan in s1 saying she would rather watch people through a camera than interact with them.

Eddie munson (s4)- not going to lie. I have no proof of this but I immediately thought of the TV character Eddie Munster (the friendly monster ).

Possible comic book easteggs

The duffers are no stranger to comic book references. The duffers have already directly reffed xmen, wonderwoman, and green lantern. Kali's place also has a comic book ref to 'the invisibles' on the wall. While the s4 movie list mentions thor ragnock , age of ultron, and 2 batman films. Some of these refs will go over your head if you haven't read my DID theory. But a lot of this analysis will still be enjoyable. :)

Jane st ives (jane ives aka el). marvel. (jane st ives sees her dad k*ll her mom and vows revenge against him.Sort of similar to what brenner did to terry).

Stephanie harrington (Steve harrington)- 80s marvel comic. DP.7. Will DID ref. Antibody, is a medical resident who can project from his body a dark figure of himself (also called an "antibody", a word play on the medical term) that flies, can become intangible, and transfer its memories to another person by physical contact (mindflayer).  He later merges with the antibody. like how susie refs ‘wizard of earthsea’ -the novel where the young wizard Ged releases a shadow monster (said to be an ancient evil) but it turns out to be the dark aspects of his personality and the only way for the chaos to stop is to accept his darkness and merge as 1.

Barry bauman (Murray bauman) . marvel comics - Will did easteregg.Bauman lived in never ending darkness. He felt, that there was a realm outside the darkness and started to explore the entire content of his brain thus using now more than the usual 10 % .Also had telekinesis.He turned his attention to the stars in order to exact revenge on the human race which spends billions of dollars to kill each other, but wouldn't spend the mere million or so it would have cost to cure him. For his vengeance he transported the suns near our galaxy into his omnipotent brain. As the people of Earth would learn of the disappearing of the suns they would panic and feel Bauman's loneliness before he would destroy Earth.Despite the death of his physical body, Bauman's consciousness somehow survived and began hopping from body to body throughout the galaxy, his powers growing until the Star Thief was recognized as a major threat to galactic society.

Sinclair- last name of xmen rhaine.  Will Did ref. storyline Rahne Sinclair is mentally bonded to Havok against her will(Will/mf).She is subsequently manipulated by the Shadow King. Her bond with Havok causes her to act irrationally, sometimes threatening teammates, sometimes by flirting with them.  She undergoes more than one attempt to undo the bonding, with varying results. Her instability also manifests in many odd dreams, in which her identity is merged into pop culture figures. What’s funny is charlie heaton (jonathan byers) was just in an xmen movie with this Rhaine character.

Victor creel (s4)-sounds like mutant victor creed of the xmen comic. x men Mutant with ab*sive dad and poor socioeconomic background. He had a "birthday tradition" of ab*sing his young relatives on their birthdays. Which reminds me of Lonnie making jonathan cry for a week (because he forced him to k*ll a rabbit on his b-day). Not to mention Lonnie is prob coming back for Will’s b day in s4... so... the name is prob a ref to that ‘birthday tradition’. Could also be a stephen king reference -since Duffers love him. The Creel family was in sk’s book “pet cemetary’-which fun fact (the actress who plays El’s aunt is in the recent remake)!

Yuri (s4)-Yuri Topolov (Russian: Юрий Тополов) was a Soviet scientist and the first foe of the Hulk. 

Dimitri (s4)-Dmitri Bukharin was born in Kuibyshev, Russia (some sources say Moscow).  First appeared in Iron man.

Peter ballard ( s4 character) may just be a hellfire ref . since I guy with last name ballard was a double agent for the hellfire club (name of st s4 ep 1). And ballard means bald which the actor is certainly not lol. I don't think he's literally associated with hellfire but its just a ref. And because its implied in his st character summary despite working for the mental hospital-where brenner is most likely at- he's horrified by the treatment of the psych patients. So that may be where the double agent aspect would come into play.

Ian Hargrove (billy hargrove)- batman comics. had a history of mental health problems dating back to childhood, which his parents were unable to afford treatment for. His brother John hargrove tried to keep him out of trouble but Ian developed an uncanny talent for explosives (will the wise fire powers). He ends up at Archam asylum. Cough billy is Will's alter. Why he has the name billy (a nickname for William) . Jonathan in s2 mentions how he likes the writer vonnegut- who wrote slaughter house 5- the main character was Billy. Already mentioned how it connects to my did theory .

Jason carver (s4)- carver is the last name of the comic hero thunderbolt (in the flash)-the first name of thunderbolt is Will and his brother is named Lonnie. There was also a John carver in the comic.

Holland (barb's last name) last name of Swamp thing. I think its plot has quite a few s4/5 spoilers but Im not diving into it right now.

Names associated with religions or mythology 

(if you’ve read my DID theory- some themes will appear relevant in relation  WIll’s alters or to WIll’s past/tr*uma).

-‘Kali prasad".Kali  is the name of a Hindu goddess . Kali’s iconography and mythology commonly associate her with death,  violence, s*xuality, but also paradoxically -motherly love. In myths ‘she only k*lls demons’ and is described as  ‘overflowing with incomprehensible love for her children’ - (aka ST’s Kali k*lling people from hawkins lab for hurting kids). Her third eye stands for wisdom (like Will the wise).Kali is called at times ‘ the bright fire of truth’ (will the wise/fire powers).The devotee makes her image in his heart and under her influence burns away all limitations and ignorance in the cremation fires. This inner cremation fire in the heart is the gyanagni (fire of knowledge), which kali bestows (cough Will the wise-fire powers). The goddess also could create a darkcloud of lightning (similar to the mf). The phrase “brilliant as a dark cloud” is a snippet of one such prayer dedicated to Kali.The name Kali is derived from the Hindu word that means “time”. Kali receives her name because she devours ‘kala’ (Time)- like clocks ticking when El sees demogorgan/clock being wonky when Will see mf/clocks in s4 promos.’ After devouring time she resumes her own dark formlessness. “This transformative effect can be metaphorically illustrated in the West as a black hole in space” (cough mf cough hopper blackhole/time refs). Kali’s s2 butterfly-“Kali is the Hindu goddess associated with eternal energy. ... The cocoon, butterfly and the karmic golden wheel reflect Her deep connection with life.”And Prasād (her last name) is a material substance that is a religious offering to gods in  Hinduism .

-While, EL is the name of a Cannanite (male) god associated with “salt water “ (pool filled with salt in s1) who “dwelled in a tent” (in s1 Mike’s blanket fort) .And his gray-beard was described as " "full of wisdom.” él’  in Spanish means ‘he’- which could be a nod at her ( androgynous) presentation in s1. El can also be translated to "God" or 'god'. The el character has various mythologies depending on which culture/ religion is using the term 'el'. In the post-biblical period, "el" became a regular element in the names of angels such as "Gabri·el," "Micha·el," and "Azri·el," to denote their status as divine beings.And Jane translates to " Yahweh (god) is gracious/merciful". The cannanite god El was also dubbed “Compassionate God of Mercy.”  Earlier, a ninth century B.C.E. inscription  identifies Ēl- the name of the Babylonian water god Ea, lord of the watery subterranean abyss (cough watery  dark void in st). Terry (el’s mom-aka Teressa) was originally used in the Middle Ages for a “child baptized in holy water” (El in the sensory water tank/Terry used it too,according to Becky in s1). Eleanor (called this in s1)- can mean "sun ray" (possible the opposite of the ‘shadow monster’ or Kali who can represent a “black hole”). 

-Will-the s4 st movie lists (‘red dragon’, gods of monsters, & ‘blade runner’ ) mention the artist and writer William Blake  (specifically his painting of the angel michael fighting a dragon in revelations - reffed in st s1). He was one of many painters part of the exhibition of “ The World Turned Upside Down: Apocalyptic Imagery.”The World Turned Upside Down explores the myriad ways that artists in England visualized the apocalypse in a period fraught with political, religious, economic, and cultural change. 

During this period Blake was commissioned to create over a hundred paintings intended to illustrate books of the Bible along with revelations .  He also drew illustrations for the novel Dante’s inferno. Blake’s brutally satirizes oppressive authority in church and state.He said those who proclaim restrictive moral rules and oppressive laws as “goodness” are in themselves evil. Hence to counteract this repression, Blake announces that he is of the “Devil’s Party” (cough hellfire club ref-and dissing the satanic panic of the hellfire club and other marginilised groups) . He also says “men forgot that All deities reside in the human breast.” So Instead of looking for God on remote altars, Blake warns, man should look within.He produced a diverse and symbolically rich œuvre, which embraced the “imagination as “the body of God.” He wrote his own stories based on biblical writings- one includes the fire wielding character of Los (will the wise) who represented jesus. Los (like jesus does in revelations) causes the destruction of the world and the second judgment unfolds. The poem ends with Los’s unfallen state rising up and shepherding in science and removing the dark religions. I also talked about  how this story ‘book of los’ hints at the DID theory-but this is getting long-so you can just read the explanation here if interested. Also, hellooo Both names are William B(yers/lake). Billy (a alter of Will-sharing the name William) in s3 he even wore “lady of pillar” medallion- i.e about jesus/mary.

JOHN (supposedly Jesus’ blood relative- who wrote ‘revelations’.) In scripture John was called “the disciple whom Jesus loved as a brother” .Fire is the most typical element associated with the Saint John's Eve celebration (Jonathan did light the demogorgan on fire). Many scholars consider John & Jesus ("apocalyptic prophets"). Jonathan itself translates to " yahweh (god ) has given" in Hebrew.

Michael- Similar to kali, he’s a religious figure known for killing demons. He’s the arch-angel from the book of revelations (Apocalypse). A evil Beast (with seven heads usually translated to ‘satan’ or ‘dragon’) appears .“it was a 7″ causes Will to be attacked by the demogorgan ( which in d&d is a demon with multiple heads). The Archangel MICHAEL fought and defeated this 7 headed beast/satan. Corresponding with Mike at the end of s1 writing a fictional d&d story for Will (based off defeating the demogorgan) which was about helping kill a 7 HEADED MONSTER! Michael is also the archangel who oversees on Earth the natural element of fire (Mike telling Will the wise to use ‘fireball’ to defeat this same 7 headed monster in the game, at the end of s1)! Ironically though Jesus /Christian god is also associated with 7s a lot (he has 7 angels and during the apocalypse causes 7 plagues , he has 7 candles etc .)cause the number seven, represented ‘perfection’ according to ancient numerology . Will’s b day is March 22- (3) +2+2 =7 (“it was a 7”). Will’s bday even falls in what christians call “the holy week”( the week immediately preceding Easter.)  At the end of s1 they even defeat this 7 headed monster because Will rolls a 14 (which can be broken down into two 7s). Michael & William also have 7 letters in each of their names respectively- equating to this 14. This dragon biblical story (of Michael) is also William blake’s most popular painting. Also, random fact in revelations god has a rainbow throne (with thunder /lightning -will the wise powers- coming from the throne, and seven lit torches next to it ) . He also wears a rainbow halo. Lol. Michael also roughly translates to  ( 'Who like el?' The answer being roughly translated to ' no one like el' ... which i mean literally is saying there is no one similar to her. But I still think its a linguistic pun/ burn that Mike is not actually into El romantically).

Jim (James) hopper- According to the s3 script Hopper’s real name is James. JAMES (JIM) was an apostle to jesus- brother of john. And in the bible was called a ’son of thunder ’. Will’s powers/ hopper being an alter of Will's so technically brother of jonathan and thunder powers. Not to mention David on Instagram saying hopper has " he has risen. like bread" is a Jesus ref to 'he has risen"... even the bread ref could be a catholic ref to the last supper.

  Martin Brenner/marsha holland-  have their first name reference the roman god Mars who was originally a ‘thunder or storm deity’ (will the wise/mf powers). EL (in cannanite mythology) also allowed Baal the storm god to rule the entire earth.

ROBIN- was the God of Thunder’s- Thor’s- favorite bird. And Dustin also means ‘Thor’s stone.’The red belly robin is also an important bird in Christianity. Legend has it that the robin got its red belly from a fire in which it was trying to protect Jesus. Robin also name drops the greek god prometheus- the god of fire (will the wise) who brought human beings life and knowledge. And Steve looks at Robin and says "let there be light" a biblical passage. The robin represents selflessness for a higher truth. 

Barb- Saint BARBara- dad kept her locked away from the outside world (like el/brenner) . He tried to k*ll her when he learned she didn’t believe in his religion- so the dad was punished by “god” who electrocuted him with lightning/lit him on fire. (Will the wise powers).

Nancy- is derived from a medieval diminutive of Annis, an English form of Agnes.  There’s the christian saint Agnes- who was beautiful and from a wealthy family. She was the Christian saint of girls and v*rginity . And the duffers subverted this along with the problematic horror movie trope of the ' v*rgin female heroine surviving while her more se*ually liberated female friends are punished by the villain' ( by having her survive specifically because she decided to have s*x).Agnes was also led out and bound to a stake, but (allegedly) the bundle of wood would not burn, or the flames parted away from her (will the wise fire powers). Also people claimed that any man who tried to r*pe her was struck blind.

Hopper's wife’s name -Dianne- is also the roman goddess of ,nature, hunting and wild animals( and greek equivalent to Artemis) .Becky  means ‘snare’ -for hunting animals .Teressa (Terry) means ' huntress'.  The name was originally used in the Middle Ages for a child baptized in holy water . Name of 2 saints-Teresa of Avila and Therese of Lisieux. Lonnie’s gf (Cynthia) was originally an epithet of the Greek goddess Artemis, as well.

Power couple Angela & jake (s4) - Angela means 'messenger of God". And Jake (also means ”supplanter”) is derived from jacob. Jacob was the son of Isaac and Rebecca in genesis. El’s aunt,Becky (Rebecca) is wife of isaac.Other theories claim that Jacob is in fact derived from a hypothetical name like יַעֲקֹבְאֵל (Ya'aqov'el) meaning "may God protect".The name jacob is also where the names James/jim is derived from.

couple Steve spies on in s3- Anna Jacobi & Mark Lewinsky. Anna ( name of the mother of the Virgin Mary) Jacobi ("he who supplants"-aka same meaning as jim since both names are derived from jacob). Mark (”the god mars”-same meaning as martin brenner) .Lewinsky (lion-same name meaning as Lonnie). Also derived from the Hebrew root לוי‎ (leví, “priest”)

Joyce means "lord". Could also be a ref to the ('unofficial') saint Joyce who gave up wealth to live in poverty.

Ted-is the short form of the names Theodore and Edward. Theodore is a Greek name meaning "gift of God", Edward has an English origin and means "wealthy guard." Eddie (from s4) also means ‘wealthy guard”

Holly (nancy and Mike's sis)- Holly meanings are 'One who is pious' or 'sacred'

Karen- can be short for Katherine-one of the first christian saints.”Saint Katherine of the Wheel “(er). A 4th century martyr who suffered t*rture on a spiked wheel.  Wheeler does mean ‘occupational name for a maker of wheels’ after all. 

Gospel of LUKE (lucas?) , or simply Luke, tells of the origins, birth, ministry, death, resurrection, and ascension of Jesus Christ.

Sinclair- Catholic saint of computers and TV screens (i mean... he is in the av club).

MAXimilian was deemed a saint in the 1980s- saint of journalists and radios. (Both aspects of s3)

Saint stephen/steven ( STEVE)-an early disciple and deacon . Considered one of the first m*rtyrs of the church.Stephen is first mentioned in the Acts of the Apostles as one of seven deacons appointed by the Apostles to distribute food (lol icecream) .According to Orthodox belief, he was the eldest and is therefore called “archdeacon”.

Sara- Her name is a feminine form of sar (Hebrew: שַׂר‎), meaning “chieftain” or “prince."  She was the wife and sister of Abraham (ew -given her being an alter of Will though, such a name doesn’t surprise me). Similar to st Barabara’s dad - Abraham tried to k*ll his son isaac in the name of god. Becky (El's aunt) - is derived from Rebecca - wife of Isaac.

Claudia (Dustin's mom)- Christian woman of Rome greeted by Paul in his second letter to Timothy (in the bible).

Sam mayfield (max's dad) -  Short for Samuel or Samantha, from the Biblical name Shemu'el, which means "God has heard", from the Hebrew shama, meaning "heard" and el, meaning "God". Samuel is rumored to be argyle first name.

Marsha Kelly (s4)- Kelly means "frequents churches" or " bright headed". Given she's a counselor the bright headed pun makes sense. But maybe she's not to be trusted if she frequents churches during a satanic panic arc which was fueled by Christian religious extremism . Or she's someone who contrasts the rest of the religious people in town since she's not originally from hawkins...who knows. x files’ main character was catholic but in one ep she criticized a small town for the satanic panic occurring-and says how accusing these kids who listen to rock as satanic or being k*llers is ludicrous.

Peter ballard (s4) - Peter was also the name of an apostle. 

Tina (side character s2)- like christy (s4) it’s short for Christina which translates to "follower of christ" or 'stream'. Tina was the gal who hosted the t halloween party and also the name of one of Erica’s friends in s3.

Samantha (goth girl jonathan talks to in s2 party) translates to "told by god".

Tommy (s1-2) "God's gift" or "twin".Thomas is the Greek variation of the Aramaic name Ta’oma’. It came about because there were too many apostles named Judas; Jesus renamed one Thomas—meaning "twin"—to distinguish him from Judas Iscariot and the Judas also known as Thaddeus.

carol (tommy’s gf)- Carol is the short form of Caroline and the meaning is derived from the English vocabulary word for “song” or “hymn". A hymn being a religious song or poem.

Benny ( who helped El at his dinner) - originally derived from latin bennedictus which means "blessed"

Stacey (s2-3 ) rejected dustin at dance. Stacey- "resurrection "

Grigori (the guy following and tracking hopper, Joyce, and alexi)- The name was adopted by early Christians heedful of the Biblical passage located in 1 Peter 5:8, “Be sober-minded; be watchful."grigory now means 'watchful and vigalent'

Alexi- prob based on the russian folklore story of alexy. A clever priest's son who tricks a dragon.

Harrington- similar to Robin's religious animal iconography. Harrington means 'he goat'.The most popular image of the Satanic goat dates back to the ever-mysterious Knights of Templar, who were accused of worshipping an idol known as Baphomet (a 1/2 human 1/2 goat man). Roman Catholic society decried it as a demon that demanded human sacrifice — but it would take a few more centuries before the goat became a truly occult symbol.Anton Lavey adopted Baphomet as the sigil of the Church of Satan in 1966, and it has appeared on countless metal album covers. But, Baphomet isn't the lone source of inspiration for our goat-like depictions of Satan.it's also believed that early Christians, seeking to demonize preexisting Pagan traditions, drew comparisons between the Devil and the Greek god Pan (god of nature), who happened to resemble a goat.Some cited how in revelations- during the apocalypse- Jesus separates the 'lambs from the goats'. ( supposedly Good vs bad)

Given the fact s3 alluded to the satanic panic. A Christian movement in the 80s that demonized and said d&d ,rock music, homosexuality, other religions, stephen King,horror films, wearing black,and non conservative ideology were 'satanic.' I wouldn't be surprised by this possible ref. Heck even William Blake criticized similar religious movements in his own time period. Several movies from the s4 list allude to this. The most obvious being the documentary paradise lost (named after the fictional retelling of satan/adam and eve story) - the documentary directly focuses on a witch hunt of rock loving teens (wrongfully accused of m*rders) in a small town during the satanic panic. Not to mention ironically s4 is hinted to be around easter. So Using such symbolism to address religious fundamentalism and the bigotry/hysteria it can cause isn't surprising. No i’m not lumping all religious people into this negative category- obviously.

Other Names with similar definitions

*Hunting /forests woods, nature, animals

Hunters and people in forrests

name meaning : becky - snare (a trap for catching birds or animals). Teressa-huntress. Dianne/Cynthia (Hopper’s ex wife/Lonnie’s gf) - is a roman/greek goddess of hunting and wild animals.  Rhadaghast- Will's password for cb is a lothr wizard who protects forests/wildlife.martin/marsha- previously god of agriculture/plants.As an agricultural guardian, he was believed to directed his energies toward creating conditions that allow crops to grow, which may include warding off hostile forces of nature (pumpkins rotting in s2). El in phoenician culture was called Elus and its Greek equivalent Cronus (god of agriculture) steve- he goat- associated with pan- god of fields, groves, wooded glens . brenner- ‘someone who cleared forests by burning’. the blond women, Brenner worked with,  Fraizer-  “of the forrest men”

* FUN FACT: Kali’s name originally was going to be ‘Roman’ (which is derived from Romulus-the son of Mars... aka Martin Brenner) .

Trees

Ives and owens- ives means 'yew wood' while Owen means 'yew tree. ' bauman- nickname for someone who lived near a tree.comes from the German word "baum," or "boum" in Middle High and Old German, meaning "tree’. Jennifer hayes- Jennifer  derived from Old English words "jenefer", "genefer" and "jinifer", all of which were variants of Juniper used to describe the juniper tree.Lonnie means "oak tree; or lion". Lion plushie in cb and the lion el has along with the tree establishes a connection between all 3 maybe? Oak groves were especially sacred to  the goddess dianna too. Buckley (it has many different translations) - Old English "boch ley" (with boch meaning beech tree and ley meaning wood, glade or clearing).

Nature

buckley if translated from "bok lee," means meadow, or field. mayfield- open country (field) where madder (mæddre) grows. Holland- wood land, Bruce (who was also possessed) - means WILLow lands . Keith (s2-3) : woods or forrest.Hargrove- meadow filled with rabbits (Jonathan’s hunting story).Holloway is a topographic surname, which was given to a person who resided near a physical feature such as a hill, stream, or type of tree. Tina means 'river' . Burness (guy who claimed he jumped into quarry)-stream. Neil- cloud. Lowe (Bruce's last name)-This surname is derived from a geographical locality 'at the low,' i.e. the hill. Hayes means "hedged area'.

Flowers

Flo (hopper's secretary)- means flower. Suzie-  lily flower. Susan (Max’s mom)- means lily, lotus flower or rose. Karen (in Japanese can mean)- flower, lotus, or water lily. Heather is also a variety of small shrubs with pink or white flowers which commonly grow in rocky areas.  Erica is a type of "heather" plant. martin/marsha: in the legend of Mars,his mother become pregnant with him using a magic flower- which was given to her by the goddess flora.

Bright (aka intelligent)

Bob- nickname of Robert . Both Bob and Robert mean 'bright, shinning or fame'. Aka smart -he's called ' Bob the brain ' for a reason.

Robin- is also diminutive of Robert . And we all know robin is smart too. Being multilingual/ cracking the code.Robin (like Robert) also means 'bright, shining , or fame.'

Lucas- means "bright" or "shinning" aka he's also a smart cookie. His firework plan saving the day.

Lonnie and Larry (the mayor) can both be nicknames for Lawrence which also means ' bright one' or 'shinning one'. Well... both are cunning I'll give them that. Lonnie is unfortunately ...smart. I think this detail had other foreshadowing. Joyce to Will about Will the wise ' if he's so wise why does he need the fireballs? can't he just outsmart the bad guys? " Will: " yeah. Usually. BUT sometimes the bad guys are smart too." I never understood why on earth Joyce would be with someone as awful as Lonnie in the first place- than be with his literal opposite Bob- but maybe she just found intelligence attractive?

Names associated with thunder/lightning/fire (Like Will/mf/Will the wise)

Byers-reprsents Greek Zeus (god of thunder/lightning). Martin - references the roman god Mars who was originally a ‘thunder or storm deity’ .ROBIN- was the German God of Thunder’s- Thor’s- favorite bird. And Dustin also means ‘Thor’s stone.’Jim- “son of thunder”. Christian god- has throne (surrounded by thunder /lightning). Kali- could summon thunder storms.Nancy/Barb-both saints associated with fire. Kali-is called at times ‘ the bright fire of truth’ /and bestows the fire of knowledge. Robin also name drops the greek god prometheus- the god of fire. Mars -the keeper of Rome's perpetual flame . The Robin bird in a Christian story myth protects Jesus from hell's fire. William Blake- wrote about a fire wielding character of Los who represented jesus. Jesus during end times wields fire. Michael is the archangel who oversees on Earth the natural element of fire. Fire is the most typical element associated with the Saint John's Eve celebration (Saint John- called Jesus’s brother).

Animals (and their symbolism)

Byers- means ‘ cattle shed’.The Greeks considered the bull animal totem to be a symbol of Zeus (god of thunder and lighting - will the wise powers). He is the head of the gods and the almighty ruler of Olympus.  I”n hinduism, Shiva is known as Gorakhnath, means the lord of the cows.  And is also known as, Pasupathinath, the lord of all animals (similar to Rhadaghast). According to some scholars, Shiva’s association with cows and bulls might date back to the Indus Valley period. Cows have a special significance in Hinduism, as aspects of Mother Goddess and as symbols of selfless service. Mahatma Gandhi declared the protection of cows a central feature of Hinduism.Hindus worship cows as the Mother Goddess and symbol of motherhood, kindness and forbearance.”

Tigers: (Sarah’s plushie/ Hawkin’s macott/ Will & Mike have tiger posters in their rooms): The goddess Kali & God Shiva wore a tiger skin (this fact was actually mentioned by Kali in the prequel novel ‘suspicious minds’ ).”In many tribal traditions of India, the tiger (or lion) is worshipped as a god. In some Hindu hymns the domestic fires are compared to the tigers that guard the house.Tigers also figure prominently in many Indian folk-tales, Jataka-stories, and the Panchatantra.”

Lions:(Lonnie means ‘lion’ and el and Will have matching lion plushies)- In the Bible, the lion has two opposite meanings: it is compared to the Devil (1 Pet 5:8) and to Christ (Rev 5:5). Aka: Lonnie is the devil. The kids are the opposite. Nancy also compares the demogorgan to a lion. “In many tribal traditions of India, the lion is worshipped as a god.One of the ten incarnations of Vishnu is Narasimha, who has the head and shoulders of a lion, but the torso of a human.Goddess Durga, a fierce form of Parvathi or Shakti, has a golden lion as her vehicle, while Rahu, a planetary guard, rides upon a black lion as his vehicle.Lions form an important part of Hindu religious art. The face of the lion (simha-mukha) is used in images and sculpture in many Hindu temples to decorate the doors, walls, arches, and windows.The memorial pillar at Saranath  contains four beautifully carved standing lions at the top on a round abacus representing the imperial power. They now constitute the official emblem of the government of India.”

El almost k*lling a cat- “Some superstitious beliefs are also associated with cats in Hinduism. For example, killing a cat is considered a grave sin, for which one may have to offer prayers and give in charity at least seven golden images of the killed cat. “

Harrington- he goat. Buckley- has various translations. Anglo-Saxon: ‘bucc and leah’ meaning goat and wood respectively. And obviously there’s the robin-bird. And I've already discussed their symbolism. Goat= baphomet/pan. 

Robin- thor's fav bird/ helped Jesus from hell's fire.

Buckley- can also translate to " field filled with deer" (like the deer attacked by the demogrogan or the bambi film jon reffed in relation to the hunting story about lonnie).And Karen ( when from it’s Hebrew origins) can mean- antler or horn. Also the caananite God el was usually depicted with animal horns on his head.Diana in Roman art usually is accompanied by a hound (demo dog) or deer.  Because of the story of her turning an attempted r*pist-hunter into a deer/ and then causing dogs to attack him.  Deer is also one of the symbolic animals accepted since early Christianity as an allegory of Jesus Christ and the Christian Disciple. And when associated with Shiva (kali's husband) in Hindu iconography, the deer omen denotes sovereignty over nature and symbolizes the lord of all animals, humans, and the King of the Forest. In many visual and written illustrations, human beings and deer appear as close companions and in some cases, humans adopt the face or antlers of a deer, in images more common in stories of human strife. Deer also have a supernatural significance and appear as apparitions of divinity and in legends of spiritual awakening.

Hargrove- meadow filled with rabbits (like the rabbit lonnie made jonathan k*ll.) Hopper sounds like thumper the rabbit- which jonathan mentions in relation to bunnies . And ... idk... Hopper did make that pun in s3 about bunnies to Larry (lawerence) ? We also have rabbit refs elsewhere like with- el in Benny's. They play the song 'white rabbit' a song referencing Alice in wonderland and in el's room at Terry's house is the white rabbit from that story. Also paralleling to jonathan- el was almost made to k*ll a cat by her father (Cheshire cat aka Alice in wonderland ref + cats are associated with magic powers/witch craft).In Celtic folklore, the rabbit is seen as a supernatural being from the Otherworld.The rabbit symbolism in Christianity has found its way through the Germanic deity Eostre from which the name Easter came to be (s4 will most likely have the Easter holliday).One tale describes the rabbit as the pet of Jesus Christ. And rabbits were often inserted into art of jesus' mother .

Creel- basket or container of fish.fish is taken as symbolizing Christ’s faith, charity, and abundance. A biblical story goes how Christ fed his disciples with 2 fishes and called them “fishers of men.”  The Christians made an acrostic from the Greek word for fish, “ichthys” as early as the first century and it is, “Iesous Christos Theou Yios Soter”, meaning Jesus Christ, Son of God, Savior.

Names hinting at character traits (which are very literal)

Mr clarke (science teacher)- clarke means 'scholar'

Dottie (in kali's gang)- she was in an insane asylum . And ‘Dotty’ is a very old British slang term  for 'crazy'

War (usually relates to ‘villains’)

Troy- means ' foot soldier'. Martin brenner: Martin means 'war like'. Lonnie is diminutive of Alonzo or Lawrence. Alonzo means 'ready for battle'.

In contrast to Lonnie, Will can mean "desiring peace. " Axel  who is part of Kali’s crew (who i think Will created along with others ) even means "father is peace."

Twin

Tom (Heather's dad) and Tommy mean ‘twin’. Robin's crush Tammy ('twin') Thompson ( 'son of tom’).

* Besides similar/identical name meanings.There’s also a lot of other repeated names that go into this whole twin/mirror imagery which i find strange... makes me wonder about @strangertheory ‘s version of the did theory. If not...maybe it’s just a allusion to the whole Will vs Will the wise arc (possibly) coming up?

Jennifer hayes (popular girl) & Jen (Mr clarke’s gf). Tina (highschool gal) & Tina- erica’s friend- Tina & christy are also nicknames of christina (s4 character). Susie (dustin’s gf) & susan (max’s mom). Sam (max’s dad) and Samantha (girl at party)/ samuel (possibly argyle). Billy Hargrove, Bill (dianne’s new huband),  and Will-all being nicknames for William. Robin & Bob-nicknames for Robert. Lonnie & Larry-nicknames for Lawerence. Ted  & Eddie being nicknames for Edward.James (Will’s bully), Jim Hopper (real name James), jacobi, and jason- all 4 are derived from jacob . Marsha Holland (barb’s mom) and marsha kelly (therapist s4)/martin relate to mars. Tom (reporter), tommy (highschooler), thompson (other highschooler).

it’s definitely peculiar to repeat names like this in a story. Unless it means ...something... I talked about how David was mentioning alot of doppelganger/twin imagery recently-here. So the name mirroring could just be an allusion to the Will/WW arc coming up ...possibly?

[amiedala]

SOMETHING MORE (the mandalorian x reader)

CHAPTER 24: There's the Kicker

RATING: Explicit (18+ ONLY!!!)

WARNINGS: this chapter doesn't warrant warnings except brief mentions of violence!

SUMMARY: When you hear your name, you think you’re hallucinating it. It comes out of nowhere, and the voice that it comes from is familiar, trusting, warm. And there’s the kicker: it’s unmodulated. You’re pretty sure you’re imagining it, because you’ve spent so many nights playing over Din’s voice in your mind, his promises, the way he broke them.

And still, you freeze, turning around, feeling completely suspended on the space-time continuum. Standing there, unmasked, heartbreak written all over his face, is your Mandalorian.

The Mandalorian. As your heart hammers, drowning out every impulse to run towards him and jump into his arms, you have to remind yourself he left you, and even though he found you, he’s not yours anymore.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: HELLO MY LOVES SO SORRY THIS IS DAY LATE!! i had a lot of family and personal stuff come up on the back half of the week, and the chapter just wasn't where i wanted it to be last night. i hope this makes up for it! and i promise, the next chapter is going to be muchhhhh longer, and (in my opinion) very good ;) ENJOY!!

*

Getting back to Hoth feels like trying to run up a staircase that doesn’t fully exist.

Your starfighter, the one you put together with your aching hands and a little bit of wishful thinking, is rebelling against you. It’s fitting, you think, trying to hit warp for the thousandth time, that in the Crest’s unceremonious, splintered death, it left behind a new ship for you can wrangle in its wake. Immediately, you feel awful, swearing and kicking the parts of your hand-me-down Rebel ship into shape, reminding yourself that your home—the physical part of it, at least—is gone, and it makes you want to break down in the middle of space, get lost in the stars and not think about anything in this forsaken galaxy ever again.

But every time you close your eyes, you see the lightsaber glow green, and you know somewhere deep in your chest that Wedge called you back for a reason. It’s colossal and monumental in the same thundering way finding Din and the baby for the first time was, as illuminated and fated as meeting Ahsoka. There’s something here, something real, something more, if General Luke Skywalker himself sent Wedge a hologram and shook your old friend up this badly.

Finally, you get the ship to move. You kick the malfunctioning warp system a few times before she shudders to life and groans under your pressure. “Kicker,” you mutter, flipping all the colorful, variant buttons on the dashboard to get her to move. “Kicker, that’s what I’m gonna call you. I’d name you Rebel,” you continue, punching the ship into hyperspace, “but that one might be a little too on the nose. What do you think?”

Because it’s a ship, Kicker doesn’t say anything. You smile though, a small, stolen one, and as you exit the crush of warp in front of the icy behemoth that is Hoth, you feel your heart aerating and releasing, nervousness building a colony of butterflies up in your stomach. Luke Skywalker, you whisper a few times, turning his name over in your mouth. You know he’s real. You’ve seen him before, only from a distance, but you’ve heard the concrete stories, the way he turned from desert farm boy into the most powerful Jedi in the galaxy. He’s the kind of man that can turn into myth with the right storyteller, and he’s always awed you. There’s a part of you that connects to him—something yearning and desperate, that part of the tales you always heard where he keeps trying to save people beyond saving.

Wedge knows him. Knew him, maybe, with the mystique surrounding the Jedi that Luke became, but you’ve seen the way Wedge talks about him, how the double suns of Tatooine shine in his eyes, his enthusiasm, his kindness. And you know they haven’t seen each other in ages, because Wedge has been from one end of the galaxy to the next, and Luke—you aren’t on a first name basis, he’ll always be General Skywalker, but there’s something about the way he appeared in your vision that makes you feel closer to him—well, Luke’s been becoming a Jedi.

And after perceiving said Jedi on the seeing stone immediately after your premonitions of Grogu getting whisked away by something evil? It feels like too close of a coincidence. And you don’t believe in coincidences to begin with.

The descent to Hoth feels even colder and slower when you’re shivering in anticipation before you even break through the planet’s atmosphere. You’re in your jumpsuit, and one of the spare blankets from your makeshift bed in the back of the cockpit is draped over your legs, but you’re still freezing. It feels like forever until you’re finally docked and you can sprint towards the control room where Wedge told you he would be, boots stomping heavy and intentional against the frozen ground.

“W—” you wheeze, immediately skidding to a halt the second that you breach the doorframe, all the breath leaving your lungs, “what did he say?”

The room, you realize, a second too late, is full. There’s seven people splayed around the hologram, and they’re all staring at you. You recognize all of their faces, both from seeing them around here on base, and from your youth when you were still a fully integrated member of the Alliance, and you feel the heat rush to your cheeks as you pull your helmet off, trying to walk over to where Wedge is standing with as much grace as you can muster.

“It seems like some of the message is corrupted,” Wedge manages, lowly, pulling you gently out of the way of the other people talking urgently over the holotable. “He said something about a new Jedi, though, and that he’s heading back to find them—”

“Me?” you blurt.

Wedge startles. “What?”

You bite your lip, grabbing his arm and dragging him a bit further away, hoping to avoid the other generals’ earshot. “I—I was on Tython,” you breathed, “just now. And before my fiancé and our kid abandoned—left me on Dantooine, we were on Corvus. Where we met with a Jedi—I think. I don’t know if she identifies as one anymore. Her lightsabers were white.”

Wedge blinks at you. “What?” he repeats, and you steal a nervous look at the others gathered around the hologram. Some of them are examining the table itself, others are watching you, and you feel both incredibly small and incredibly judged. “You’re not making sense, rebel girl. What about you?”

You inhale. It’s shaky, but it’s a start. You’re still out of breath. “I—I’m Force sensitive,” you whisper, as quietly as you can, “that’s why I was left on Dantooine. The baby—Grogu, our son—he’s also Force sensitive, and Moff Gideon was after the both of us. It was safer if we split up. Can,” you interrupt yourself, still out of breath, “can you play me the message? I think that Luke—General Skywalker—might have been talking about me.”

Wedge stares at you. After a second, he takes a half step back, but the look on his face, disbelief, is so close to Din’s of confusion and betrayal after you showed him the same piece of information about yourself. You swallow, suddenly self-conscious, pulling your braid over your shoulder.

“How long have you known?” Wedge whispers, voice urgent. “About your abilities?”

You shake your head. “Not long,” you promise, “two months at most. Listen—”

“Why did you say yes to me?” Wedge interrupts. “Why did you come here? We’re barely anything, right now, Nova, the Alliance is completely scattered after the fall of the Empire. There’s not enough of us to protect you.”

You blink, anger slowly filling up the expression on your face. “I can protect myself,” you hiss back, “and, besides, I’m not—I’m not dangerous, Wedge, and I can take care of myself. Besides,” you say, trying not to choke, “I think Gideon has the baby right now, b—because our ship was shot to shit—”

Wedge faces you again, putting both of his broad hands on your shoulder. Immediately, you close your mouth, suddenly anxious. You don’t know what he wants from you, and you don’t know if you should have told him about everything. But if he was friends—close friends—with Luke Skywalker, he shouldn’t be this uncertain about your Force sensitivity. You bite your lip, unsure how to react, but you can feel the anger and desperation slowly building back up in your chest, billowing like an old, ancient flame.

“Moff Gideon,” Wedge says, voice low, “is after your fiancé and your kid?”

Troubled, eyes furrow, you nod. “Yes.”

“And when you just left the base earlier today,” Wedge continues, his voice intense but slightly strained, “where did you go?”

“I—” You inhale, sharply, breaking his intent gaze to look over at the rest of the people in the room. Almost every single one of them is outfitted in the regalia reserved for admirals and generals, and the ones who aren’t are pilots. You know the uniform. You’re practically wearing it yourself. They’re all looking at you with a strangeness to them, eyes flickering back and forth between you and Wedge, as if asking for permission. “When we met Ahsoka Tano on Corvus,” you continue, trying to direct your conversation to both Wedge and the others in the room, “she told us—me and Grogu, my kid—that she couldn’t train us, because we had emotional attachments to one another. But she told us to go to the planet Tython,” you pause to swallow, mouth dry, “because it has a strong connection with the Force, and we could connect with a Jedi who could.” You stop, looking back at Wedge. “I heard him,” you whisper, “and I saw him. His lightsaber, lighting up the hallway of an Imperial cruiser. I know that Gideon was after my family.” You pause again, inhaling a shivering breath. “When I was just on Tython, I saw our ship. It was just rubble.” You’re trying so hard not to cry, but you can’t help yourself. “I’ve had visions, Force visions, for months now, of the planet. Gideon and his troops were after the baby, and I know Tython is where they took him.”

Wedge’s hand is up against his chin. He exchanges a quick, unreadable look at one of the generals, and then he faces back to you. “How many men does Gideon have?”

You look around at the people in the room again, and decidedly take a step forward, towards the table, towards the paused, flickering, blue hologram of Luke Skywalker pulsating up from the table. “A lot,” you admit, hand flying to your necklace before you startle with the realization that it’s not there, that you gave it to Grogu right before you were deserted out on Dantooine. “I know the galaxy is still in reparations from the fallen Empire.” You swallow, trying to meet the eyes of the rest of the people in the room. “But I don’t think the Empire is as fallen as we previously thought.”

Wedge moves in behind you, and a space opens up around the table. You smile, grateful, falling into rank with the other eight people in the room. “That’s what we’ve been afraid of,” he affirms, bumping his shoulder gently into yours, the same thing your dad always did when he wanted to include you. You let your stature relax, leaning in to examine the pulsing of the hologram on the table. “After we defeated the Empire, most people left the Alliance. It seemed like the natural thing to do when there wasn’t active, visible evil to fight off anymore. People wanted to get on with their lives.” He inhales, deeply. You can see worry lines chiseled into places they weren’t before, the last time you saw him. “Luke, though.” He stares at the rotating disillusion of his friend as he exhales, “Luke knew it wasn’t over. He’s been all over the place,” Wedge says, and this part sounds like it’s just for you, “trying to find people who can use the Force like he can, and like you can too. Trying to rebuild the Jedi Order.”

You swallow, looking up at him. “What does the hologram say?” Your voice comes out shaky and small.

Wedge sighs, pressing the button to play the message.

“Wedge,” Luke says, voice tinny but full of relief. “It’s been a long time, and I know you’re busy, but I need your help.” You watch, transfixed, at the blue, flickering image of the greatest Jedi in the galaxy. You swallow. “I think I’ve found someone. Maybe two people, I can’t be sure. I felt it through the Force.” He pauses again, giving Wedge a look that feels private, intimate, like something only for him to see. You avert your eyes. “I’m headed to the planet Tython. Then—then I’d like your help, and the Alliance’s, to help safeguard whoever I find.” You look at Wedge. “I know it isn’t fair to ask. I know I’ve been distant for a long time. But I need you to know that the galaxy is still in danger. I feel it, Wedge, and I know you can too. I’ll see you soon.” And with that, the holotable flicks off, the rotating, grainy, blue image of Luke Skywalker himself turned to dust.

“He found you,” Wedge says, but it sounds more like a question.

“No,” you whisper, voice small. “No—I saw him, but it was a premonition. I didn’t call out to him.” Your eyelids flutter, because you’re trying to hold back tears. “Grogu,” you say, voice even smaller than it was before. “Gideon has Grogu.”

Wedge exchanges looks with the others in the room, then looks back at you. You’re exhausted, and you rub your hands over your tired eyes, pressing until you see stars. “So Luke is going after Moff Gideon?”

“Yes.”

“So we need to help him.”

You spin around, back to Wedge and the generals. “No,” you enunciate, trying to stress just how bad that idea is with a single syllable. Then your words come flooding back. “No. We—you, any of you—cannot go after Gideon. I know you want to, and I know you’ve taken down plenty of the Empire, so I know you’re capable, but you can’t.” You look back at Wedge. “You can’t,” you whisper again. “I’ve seen him. He’s flattened entire cities in his destroyers, and he’s ruthless. He’s power-hungry, and anyone or anything that stands in the way of that is something that will soon be dead. I held him off once,” you say, projecting this part to the rest of the room, “once, and I barely got out of there in time, and it drained me for days. I still feel that exhaustion here. You can’t help Luke with this. Protecting me, and whoever the other Jedi are—that’s what you need to do. I know this is horrible. I know you probably feel helpless.” You swallow, fingers grasping around open air around your throat where your necklace used to be. “But you can’t take on Gideon. Not alone. And not even with all of you. I’ve seen how that story ends. It cost me my family.”

Wedge stares at you. “So you’re suggesting we do nothing? To help Luke Skywalker? To get your kids and fiancé back?”

The question burns. You meet his gaze. “No,” you answer, finally, “I’m suggesting we strategize before we attack.”

There’s rumblings from the generals in the background, but Wedge holds up a hand, and the low voices cease. You swallow, trying to push your shoulders back, give off confidence, but you’re not sure if it’s working. Wedge nods at you, and you feel relief spread through your whole body as he turns back to the generals. “Nova’s right,” he says. “There’s not enough of us left to adequately fight off Gideon and the troops he has.”

“He has a weapon, an awful one,” you say, stepping forward. “It’s called the Darksaber.”

No one seems to blink an eye at that one, but Wedge looks at you. “Is Gideon Force sensitive, too?” he asks, and you shake your head.

“No,” you answer, softly, “but this weapon isn’t like a lightsaber. It’s cruel, and ruthless, and its blade is black, vibrating with a ring of white around it. He can use it, and he has, and he’ll continue to until he’s been stopped—”

Suddenly, all the lights start blinking, sirens blaring. You jump back in panic as everyone immediately mobilizes, starts pulling weapons out of hidden places, running out of the room. Wedge beckons for you to follow him, so you do, and your legs scream with the soreness of trying to climb to the top of the seeing stone back on Tython.

“What’s happening?” you yell, following Wedge into another control room.

“We’re under attack,” he answers, grimly, his face paling. “You need to go.”

You blink, coming to an abrupt halt. “What?”

“It’s Gideon’s men,” Wedge says, turning around to face you. “It’s not Gideon himself. But he’s sent in three fighters, and they’re big ones. I assume they’re after you?” he asks, and your stomach twists. Wedge starts striding towards the hangar, and you follow him, immediately getting blasted in the face with Hoth’s frozen air.

“It’s three fighters,” you say, urgently, “I’ve taken out six of them before, Wedge, singlehandedly, let me get in the air and I can shoot them down—”

“No,” he interrupts, “we’ve got it. I promise. You have to go. There will be a decoy ship alongside you, one that looks enough like yours so they’ll follow it. Only when that ship is clear do you leave the atmosphere, and then you immediately jump into hyperspace.”

You’re frozen.

“Do you understand?” Wedge asks, and you exhale, letting go of all the seizing stress in the pit of your stomach.

“Yes,” you answer, and he nods. You’re at Kicker, so you grab the parka out of Wedge’s outstretched hand, starting to climb.

“Rebel girl,” he calls, and you go back a step to catch his face. There’s so much there. You can feel it the same way you see how worn his worry lines were when you were reunited back on Dantooine. It’s longing, loss, and, somewhere hidden, hope. You see the way he’s trying to convey everything—condolences for your parents, plans to get Din and the baby back to you, whatever was going on between him and Luke—but he can’t vocalize it. You nod at him, smiling softly. “Fly safe,” Wedge says finally, “and let me know where you land. No matter what,” he tacks on, at the last minute, and you see for a split second how concerned he is, “do not turn around. Do you understand me?”

You want to defy him. You want to say no. You don’t want to leave, you want to stay and fight. You promised Din all that time ago that you wouldn’t run, and here you are, deserting the people that you’re supposed to protect. Finally, though, because of the look in his eyes, you nod. “Don’t you dare let them touch you,” you manage, and your voice only cracks on the last word, which is an improvement. Wedge nods back, and then he’s gone, running through the hangar to his X-Wing. You watch him take off, and your eyes track the decoy ship that’s supposed to be yours, and as the three fighters go after it, you exhale and punch it. You’re moving fast, too fast, and your takeoff is sloppy, but you know Wedge wouldn’t tell you to book it if he didn’t mean it, so you fly recklessly and you fly fast.

When you hurtle out of the atmosphere, you catch one of the fighters diverting from the group to chase after you, so you don’t even bother punching in coordinates. You just floor it. “C’mon, Kicker,” you whisper, voice low and desperate, as she shudders and groans to hop into warp. “I know you want to go slow, but now is really not the time—”

And, like the rebel she is, she sputters down to nothing.

“Fuck!” you scream, loud, too loud, it hurts your own ears, but you get up and start pounding on the dashboard while the fighter’s getting closer and closer. You look out the window as you flip switches and slam on buttons, and now you’ve got their attention, too, and you watch in panic as the ships flock to you, firing, trying to hail you on your comm.

“This is an order from Moff Gideon. Turn of your shields and lower your blasters.”

“Like hell,” you spit, “Kicker, I’m serious, I need you to work now—”

“This is an order from Moff Gideon. You have been warned once.”

“Warn me again, then,” you seethe, closing your eyes as you disconnect one of the wires and try to spark it with the other.

“This is an order from Moff Gideon. You are resisting capture. If you disobey one more time, we will fire on you instead of taking you prisoner.”

You ignore them. If this works, the ship will finally hop into warp, and you’ll be in the clear not only to evade, but to shoot back at them. If it doesn’t, you’re about to die in a fiery explosion, and all of your promises to Wedge would go—very quickly—down the drain. You cross your heart and pray to the Maker that you did the right thing, and then there’s nothing, just three very large—and very scary—TIE fighters about to surround you and take you prisoner at best, and then, finally, the glorious rebel she is, Kicker thunders to life. “Yes!” you scream, buckling in, cracking your neck, putting one hand on the accelerator and one thumb over your blasters. You have a second to do this, and you need to do it right.

“This is your final warning. Either board our ship or die.”

“Die,” you answer, your voice calm and not much like yours. As you speak, you push the accelerator forward, hit warp, and fire. You catch the biggest fighter right on the wing, not a hard hit, but enough to knock it back into the other two.

“Get back here, scum—” the pilot shouts, but you’re already in hyperspace.

“That’s Rebel scum to you,” you say, and the grin that swallows up your whole face is worth every bit of the close call.

You don’t know where to go. You don’t really care, because the farther you get away from the Alliance, the safer they’ll be, so you just set Kicker to coast through warp and lean back, seeing how far she’ll take you. Maybe she’ll dump you on a desert planet, or maybe she’ll crash land you on Nevarro again. Your heart feels daggered, impaled. There’s no way you could go back there. Sure, maybe Din wouldn’t be there, but Cara would be, and Greef Karga, and all the other people you met in the Guild. They’d ask questions, for starters, and Cara might go after Din and kick the shit out of him, and it would just leave you on the verge of tears. You want to go somewhere populated, you think, like Dantooine was, even though you know you can’t go back there yet. It’s too fresh, and Gideon’s men might come looking, and, besides, if Din wants you back, he’s going to have to chase you a little.

“Novalise,” you whisper to yourself, echoing the time almost a decade ago where you only had your name out here to hold onto, to bring you back to life. It still sounds like yours—no matter Din knowing it, no matter how you shared it with Arlen, no matter that it’s what everyone in the Alliance calls you now, after you told Wedge you prefer it to your original name. It’s yours, and right now, your own self feels like home.

So you coast. You hop out of warp every few hours to make sure that no one’s after you, but no one seems to have tracked you anywhere. It’s quiet out here, but it’s not the kind of shattering silence that it used to be. You sleep sometimes, huddling under the next of blankets for warmth, and then you go back to your chair to spin and look out at the stars.

You’re not sure how long it takes, but it feels like a few days when you finally decide to hop out of warp for good. You’re not sure exactly where you are, but you need food, and you need fuel, and you don’t think you drifted into the Mid Rim. It takes a little searching for anywhere that looks populated, but when you drift into the middle of an asteroid field, you realize you’re in Polis Massa. You’ve never been here. It’s not as filled with people as it used to be, once you break through the atmosphere on the rock that holds the research base, but it’s large and it has food and fuel. This is where your dad would go, before he joined the Alliance. Here and Coruscant, or what was left of it, had the most history about language and linguistics, and he’d take day trips from Yavin to collect as much research as he could to bring back and share with you.

It feels familiar here. Even though it’s not home, or anything close to it, you know that there’s something pulling you here, and something anchoring you too. The city is dense, but there aren’t a lot of people out and about. It’s dark here, darker than you imagined, so when you park Kicker in a landing bay, you bring a small flashlight with you. People don’t pay you much mind out on the street, even while you’re dressed in glaring orange, which is comforting after the close call you just had back on Hoth.

You wander. For a while, until the city starts getting lighter on the horizon line. Soon, the cafes and small markets on the street open up, and you sit outside, still wrapped up in your parka, glad to not be shivering. You eat, eventually, and have a steaming mug of caf, which helps. You don’t live the way it makes you feel, all jittery and nervous, and you don’t love the taste, either, but you’re happy for the warmth. Eventually, people filter in and out of the streets and you start to make your way deeper into the heart of the city.

You trip over the cobblestones at one point, practically launching yourself into the person ahead of you. You wince at his dirty look. “Sorry!” you call after him, and you hear him grumbling, but he acknowledges you with a nod. When you stand back up, you see where you are—the research institute your dad always talked about, where he’d go and spend hours reading about the different languages in the galaxy, to write them down and bring them back to you. You hesitate, for a second, and then you’re climbing the stone steps, driven by ache and longing.

It’s massive in here. It’s gorgeous, but huge, and the shelves are stacked all the way up to the ceiling. You have no idea where to start, but you pick an aisle at random and start browsing. You’re not sure what you’re looking for, if it’s something to connect you with your family or to connect you to this new life you’re haphazardly building for yourself, but you stumble again and nearly knock over the librarian.

“I’m so sorry,” you manage, seeing how tiny she is, how frail. “I’m sorry. I—”

“It’s quite all right, dear,” she answers, kindly, adjusting the wire-rimmed glasses on her face. “Can I hep you find anything?”

“The…language section,” you say, decidedly, eyes still caught on how many books there are here, how many years it would take you to read every one. “Linguistics.”

You follow her deeper into the labyrinth of bookcases, and when she shows you where the linguistics shelves are, you thank her excessively, your gaze buried deep on the titles on the spines. Most of them are in Basic, likely for inclusive access to anyone who ventures here, but there’s so many that have unfamiliar letters, the way they jut out and curl around themselves, and when your finger finds one, it falls open.

You don’t know what it is at first. You just feel called to it, opening it up and poring over the pages, and then a familiar word catches your eye. Kar’taylir. To know. To hold in the heart. Your own heart catches in your throat, stomach twisting itself over in impossible knots. You slam the cover closed to look closer at the text, and you realize it’s a dictionary of Mando’a, and all its translations.

There are tears in your eyes. You came here, to be closer to your father, sure, but also because you wanted to build something new. And you walked through these doors that held millions of books, and the one you picked out was a dictionary of language that your fiancé shared with you. It’s too much. You choke back a quiet sob, hoping everyone else here for research can’t hear your silenced wailing. Against your better judgement, you tear through the pages, looking for the familiar syllables, and when your finger finds the word cyar’ika, you have to close your eyes and desperately beg your heart to stop beating so horrifically, to slow the pulse down.

You follow the word over to its translation in Basic. Cyar’ika, it reads, sweetheart, beloved.

Beloved. Beloved. It says beloved, it doesn’t just mean sweet thing, it doesn’t mean that you’re kind and close to his heart. Din had been calling you his beloved for months, and then he fucking left you.

It’s too much. Everything is hot and fuzzy. You slam the book shut, heart pounding a staccato in your chest. Immediately, you get up and run. You don’t know where you’re going. In hindsight, you should have put the book back, but you didn’t. You’re running. You promised Din you’d never run, but he promised you forever and then stole it away, so you don’t owe him a damn thing anymore. You’re crying, loudly, openly, and when you rush by the same librarian you toss her a halfhearted apology.

You trip going down the steps, bang your knee up something horrible. It makes your eyes flash white hot for a second, but you pick yourself up and just keep going. You only have a vague idea where Kicker is, but you run in that general direction, blood dripping down your scraped knee, and then you’ve found the landing slot. You hurry up the ladder, not even bothering to get out the bacta kit that you stowed in the hull of the ship, just desperate to get out of here, to go somewhere else. It doesn’t matter.

You have history with Din on so many planets, it’s impossible to pick one where he won’t be hanging in the air. But something feels horribly right about heading to Tatooine, considering he hates desert planets and you can hide in plain sight. Maybe you’ll go to Mos Eisley and pick up bartending, maybe you’ll be a hermit that lives in the sand, maybe you’ll learn to speak Tusken and really never be seen from again. But before you breach the atmosphere, you call Wedge.

“Rebel girl,” he sighs, coming in almost immediately. “I was worried. You didn’t respond earlier.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. That seems to be the only thing you can utter today. “I—I went into warp for a while, turned off my comm. I was just on Polis Massa, just for the day, but it’s not—”

“Safe there,” Wedge interrupts, and you want to tell him that’s not what you meant, but he’s still talking. “We intercepted the comms of some of the people sticking close to the Empire. There’s enemies there, I’m glad you got out.”

“Me too,” you say quietly. “I’m going to Tatooine. Not forever, just for a bit. I figure I can ditch Kicker—the ship—somewhere safe and get some sort of job for a few weeks, throw people off my trail.”

“Good call,” Wedge says, then he sighs. “Luke’s from there, you know.”

You swallow. “I know. Listen, don’t tell anyone else where I am, but if he asks—”

“I’ll tell him where you are,” Wedge assures you. “Can you get word out to your fiancé?”

You gulp, slowly coating towards the atmosphere line, watching how your whole vision fills up with sun and sand. “I’m not sure,” you say, barely anything at all. “Listen, Wedge, I gotta go. Thank you for checking in on me. I’ll tell you if I’m headed anywhere else.”

“Do that,” he agrees. “Lay low. Unless you need to go after Gideon. But if that happens, you call me. You have to promise you’ll let me help. Not the full Alliance, if you don’t want our guns and ships. But you have to call me. I’m not letting you go in there alone.”

Your eyes fill up with tears. You don’t have the energy to argue, really, so you don’t. You just nod, slowly, finding a safe place to land. “I promise,” you say eventually.

“Nova?”

“Yeah?”

“Be careful.” You hear the line go dead, but you nod again against your own company in the cockpit. “

“I will,” you manage, low and deliberate.

It’s hot out here. It’s a no-brainer, you know how relentless Tatooine’s suns are, but it’s even worse than you imagined. You shed the parka, most of the jumpsuit, and tie your hair up on the top of your head before you step out into the sand, but even then, in just your tank top and light pants, it’s ridiculously hot. You struggle for the first few klicks, and then the suns slowly start to go over the horizon, and it’s a bit more bearable. You drink the last of your water, and keep stumbling closer and closer to a settlement.

It’s not Mos Eisley, but it’s a cantina. Smaller, probably lower profile, and you stagger in with your empty water canteen and your bag full of the few credits you have left, and you pick a small table out of the way to sit down upon. The wall is cool, and you press yourself up against it as you signal the waitress.

She’s definitely not human, but you’re not sure what race she is, because the dark in here is such a stark contrast against how blinding the light was outside, and your eyes haven’t fully adjusted. “Hi,” you say, your voice coming out cracked. “Can I please get some water, and—and something to eat?”

“What would you like?” she asks, and you balk at the menu, all of which has meat on it. The thought of putting anything made out of mat in your mouth makes your stomach roil, so you shake your head.

“Is there anything you offer—um, that doesn’t have meat?” you ask, and your words come out small.

“We have a plate of vegetables,” she answers, “but they’re not the freshest—”

“I don’t care,” you interrupt, warmly, “that’s fine, thank you.”

She gives you a soft smile and offers you a whole pitcher of water. You should pour some in your canteen, but you just start drinking straight from the jug, gulping it down as fast as you can, trying to get rid of the dry heat in the back of your throat. When she comes back with your food, the water it totally drained, and you ask for a refill as your stomach grumbles.

“Can I get anything else for you?” she asks, and you shake your head, and she starts walking away.

“Wait,” you call after her, mouth full of food, “wait—uh, do you happen to have any positions open? For a job? I can’t offer much, but I’m a good cook, or I could clean, I’m good at that too—”

“What’s your name?”

You swallow around your mouth of food. “Novalise. And I usually have much better manners than this, I’m sorry.”

She smiles. “I’m Kuna,” she answers. “We only have pick-up jobs available around here right now, I’m afraid. It’s not steady pay, but it’s something, and at least it’s out of the heat.”

“Yes,” you say immediately, “yes, I would love that, whatever you have for me. Thank you.”

Kuna nods. “Dinner’s on the house,” she says, voice still lowered, “and you can come back sometime tomorrow to start, if that works.”

“Yes,” you nod. “That sounds wonderful. Thank you so much.”

You sleep better that night than you have in the last week, which isn’t saying much, but at least the hulking silence of being alone in the ship is satiated with the knowledge that you’re not going to be easily accessible to anyone that doesn’t wander into the cantina, and after you hike back to Kicker, you fly her closer to the hangar on the edge of town and cover most of the ship with a tarp you find rolled up in the hull. As long as stormtroopers or anyone associated with Gideon doesn’t stop in the hangar on the outskirts of town, you’re safe.

The work is hard, and slow, but it’s rewarding. It gives you that same distracted feeling that working with Arlen at the hostel did, and something to show for it. You mostly clean, sweeping out the freshers and scrubbing down the bar, but you get the stools spotless and you’re able to polish the backs and seats of some of the other cluttered chairs, moving tables back and forth to best optimize the space. After a few weeks of working a handful of days, Kuna lets you back behind the bar. Mostly, you’re making small drinks, no big cocktails or anything fancy, but you like it. It’s nice to interact with people, even if you don’t share a language with them, and it keeps your mind off the book of Mando’a and Din stranding you on Dantooine after promising you an eternity.

You don’t care that it’s temporary. There’s nothing momentary about heartbreak, nothing compartmentalized enough for you to simply forgive him. Not now. And maybe not ever. But your heart yearns for Grogu. Whenever you let your mind wander, you tap into the Force as much as you can, searching for him, or searching for Luke Skywalker, trying to figure out if they’re okay, if Grogu is still under Gideon’s grasp, and in the corners of your visions, you look for Din.

It’s involuntary. It hurts, and it leaves you reeling, heart spinning out into an abyss you can’t cartograph your way back from. So you try to stay distracted, try to keep busy. Days pass, and you’re not sure for how long, but they’re filled with work and you sleep at the end of them, restless, with nightmares, but you’re still getting sleep, and that’s all that matters right now.

Kuna lets you start serving drinks unsupervised, which isn’t much, but it makes you feel accomplished. The whole cantina looks better every day you’re here, and it’s something to be proud of, especially since you haven’t done anything to call attention to yourself other than being a woman in the middle of a skeevy bar in the desert, which just means you attract creeps instead of stormtroopers. It’s a good bargain. One night, you serve a regular, a Twi’lek with green skin, not purple, and you can look at her without seeing Xi’an, her dead body, or Din. She’s kind, and she asks about you as much as you ask about her, and you walk out of the bar to clean up the mess one group of people left behind, letting the rest of the people filter out for closing time.

When you hear your name, you think you’re hallucinating it. It comes out of nowhere, and the voice that it comes from is familiar, trusting, warm. And there’s the kicker: it’s unmodulated. You’re pretty sure you’re imagining it, because you’ve spent so many nights playing over Din’s voice in your mind, his promises, the way he broke them. And still, you freeze, turning around, feeling completely suspended on the space-time continuum.

Standing there, unmasked, heartbreak written all over his face, is your Mandalorian.

The Mandalorian. As your heart hammers, drowning out every impulse to run towards him and jump into his arms, you have to remind yourself he left you, and even though he found you, he’s not yours anymore.

*

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*

I HOPE YOU LOVED IT!!! thank you all for being patient and bearing with me these past few weeks!! i promise more is coming, and we still have the whole last arc to go, so SM isn't ending soon ;) and when it does? i already have plans for a sequel in the works!

so sorry again that this is a day late!!! i hope you loved it anyway <3

xoxo, amelie

[mattsvn]

Pairing: Oikawa Tooru x fem!reader.

Genre: Angst, breakup, hurt and no comfort, 3rd person writing.

Warnings: light manga spoilers that everyone knows. 3rd person writing.

WC: 3.2k words.

The “sweater curse” or “curse of the love sweater” is a term used by knitters to describe the belief that if a knitter gives a hand-knit sweater to a significant other, it will lead to the recipient breaking up with the knitter. In an alternative formulation, the relationship will end before the sweater is even completed The belief is widely discussed in knitting publications, and some knitters claim to have experienced it.

Oikawa never believed it, not until it happened to him.

a/n: So, after thinking about it I chose not to keep with TSC without the next two parts, maybe one day I will but for now, have this breakup fic <33

The sweater curse, considered by most to be a myth among the tea-talk of mothers who knitted vigorously under the sun’s rays on Saturday afternoons, with the breeze fiddling with their skirts and causing them to place their cups on top of the knitting books they carried with them everywhere they went. The first story about it had run like a fickle rumor from mouth to mouth in every corner of kitchens and supermarkets, never give a knitted sweater to your loved one before you get married unless you want them to break up with you.

The talk had also appeared at Tooru’s house, barely eight years old, returning from the park with mud-stained cheeks and some dried tears in his eyes he overheard his sister asking why she couldn’t give her boyfriend a hand-made sweater as a present. And, despite what her mother told her, that terrible rumor of how her adoring boyfriend would break up with her, she did it anyway.

Naturally, as usual, his sister was an odd exemption to the rule, Tooru thought she was exempt from every problem the world brought, with smooth skin, bright eyes and a seemingly frivolous smile, everything was perfect, she was perfect. She made her way through every area of her life, from elementary school to college. Her life was perfect, as perfect as the stitches knitted into the sweater she made in her youth for her now husband.

Yet, Oikawa couldn’t quite figure out the significance of the curse that sent everyone into a panic. It wasn’t until it was explained to him, in detail, what could be the reason for the boyfriends to run in terror just weeks after such a delicate gift.

Knitting is an ancient art, recorded for thousands of years, and has evolved into what we know now, a pastime for people of all ages, and a way to show love through it. Doing it takes days, effort and perfection, and many couples, even those who have been together for years, fear not having the same commitment as the other does, or making a detail as precious as that is. So, in panic at such a commitment, they disappear.

Still, that story came back every now and then among housewives’ rumors, it was never something relevant in his life, when he tried to learn to knit, amazed by the way his mother was able to turn a ball of yarn into a beanie, socks, or even a scarf, he managed to do it faster than he thought, but, he could not finish any of the projects he started, so, he never touched the hooks or the yarn again in his life to learn.

He stopped hearing about the curse in high school and forgot all about it, romance seemed like a perfect thing in his life, enamored girls always waiting to give him a gift and admirers who would go crazy just seeing him. It was the only aspect of his life that seemed to be in place.

In the middle of the second year, just a few days after Valentine’s Day, he met the one who was his girlfriend for longer than he expected. She wasn’t even part of his fans, and not because she wasn’t one, of course she knew Oikawa and saw him out of the corner of her eye in the halls of the school, but she never thought it would be productive to go after him.

The relationship started out, like something out of a romance book, cliché, simple and going down a seemingly perfect path. Y/n met her boyfriend’s entire family just a couple of months after they started dating. The perfect daughter-in-law, adored by all, invited every Saturday, the girl the mothers could brag about on the afternoons they met in the supermarket aisles.

“Of course, Mitsuki, y/n is the best daughter-in-law I could ask for. I’m eagerly awaiting the wedding” could be heard every Thursday without fail in front of the greengrocer’s area.

Every Tuesday afternoon, when Oikawa didn’t have practice, he and his girlfriend would stop by to pick up Takeru, eat an ice cream from the store that was a couple of blocks away from the little boy’s house, when they were done, they would play a bit with a volleyball and then go to Tooru’s older sister’s house for dinner.

The day ended with both of them walking through the city, just as the sunset appeared and the sound of the city began to diminish. It was one of the many intimate moments they had, although they didn’t think it would be their last.

“How are you doing with the exams?” he questioned, fiddling with his fingers, he sensed something was wrong, he could feel it in his stomach, but it was something he chose to avoid.

“Fine, though I think I’ll end up with problems in kanji, I’m not that good at memorizing things” she answered, with a grimace. “How was your practice, are you ready for next week’s games yet?“

"Iwa-chan has been very reluctant to let us practice more than we should, but we’re doing excellently, remember Mad Dog? He’s back in training, so let’s hope that helps the team” he narrated, in that high-pitched tone of voice he used when something seemed to excite him. “This will be the year.”

“I’m sure it will, Tooru.” she replied, letting the evening light guide the rest of their way home.

Tooru had no idea that his girlfriend had already been working for several months on a gift she would give him a day before the long-awaited final against Shiratorizawa, every day, without a miss, in the few minutes she had to herself, she would get down to the task of adding stitches to her precious knitting. A pastel blue sweater, simple, but beautiful.

It was not an easy job, this being her first big project, y/n had to go back to parts where the knitting lost shape, or where she mixed up patterns, completely ruining the style of the sweater. She knew well that her boyfriend couldn’t have anything less than perfect, so every single move she made was calculated to create the best thing she had ever made.

Thus, she poured all her feelings into that sweater, love, care, passion, commitment, joy, and memories. Everything she felt for Tooru, and, ironically, everything Tooru felt for volleyball.

It didn’t mean he didn’t love his partner, as many thought he did. Oikawa loved and adored each of the people he called a lover, and they totally shaped his life. But, his goals had long been defined, and he knew well that they were more powerful than love, which he sometimes feared would not last forever.

And, if he were asked what happened the night he found himself defeated, once again, unable to achieve his goal, once again, with his last chance slipping through his fingers like water, he would answer that the only thing on his mind was the invitation to play for a team on the other side of the ocean.

He received the gift he had been hearing so much about for days with enthusiasm, certain that it would lift his spirits and distract him from the sadness that had been inebriating him. And, for a moment, it did. A sweater, beautiful, almost out of a store, almost….

“I made it myself, Tooru” she murmured, watching the smile that was beginning to form on the setter’s face. “It’s the first sweater I’ve ever knitted…and I based it on a sweater you once lent me for sizing so I hope it fits you.”

He kept his smile, almost immediately putting on the sweater to model it. It had been a wonderful detail, the way his fingers gently ran over the fabric and the smell of it, fully permeating his nostrils, made the detail more and more perfect.

“Is it really for me?” he asked, there was no mirror but his girlfriend’s smile was enough to know that it looked perfect on him. The sweater was a bit loose fitting, and, years later, he would find that it fit him perfectly, as if it was made to grow with him.

Unfortunately, as big as her smile was, Tooru could feel the prick in his heart that reminded him of the call he would have tomorrow morning to confirm his joining the San Juan team in Argentina. And, seeing her in such a way, it felt like a mistake.

“My love, I have to tell you something…”

There are truths we would rather not hear, memories we wish we could erase, and actions we would rather never do.

Ironically, Oikawa Tooru fell into all categories.

It was much more than a school hallway rumor the way he was viewed by women. If it wasn’t because she had met Oikawa, no, if it wasn’t because she met Tooru, she would’ve believed all the stories about it. The flirtatious smile, the hundreds of gift boxes of homemade chocolates that were never reciprocated on White Day and the line of screaming teenage girls at every match. If it weren’t for the fact that she had met Tooru that rainy morning when he offered his umbrella, and started walking her home after the clubs ended, she would have thought he was nothing but a player.

And even if he wasn’t, he’d managed to break her heart just like the others.

In perspective, giving him a sweater seemed like a hasty decision once she considered it carefully, a foolish decision that would cost her dearly. Whether it was the psychological issues, the emotional ones, simple coincidence or witchcraft, everything indicated that the handmade pastel blue sweater had been responsible for the words that came out of the boy’s mouth once he gathered what little courage he had left.

“Tomorrow I’ll agree to join a professional team” he mentioned, but there was no smile on his face. “They had been calling me for a few months now but I hadn’t made a decision yet.”

“That is amazing news, my love! What city are they in?” she asked him, already thinking of the bright future he would have beyond his high school defeats. Too bad she wouldn’t have the opportunity to see it firsthand.

“San Juan” he replied, with an incredibly thick accent over just those two Spanish words, words that sounded out of place in his mouth.

“San Juan? I’ve never heard of a city in Japan with that name” she looked at him with a frown. She'd heard of places like San Francisco, but, they were in another country, on another continent. “Tooru…”

“Uh…it’s in Argentina” he didn’t even have the guts to look her in the eye at that moment. “They still haven’t- they haven’t told me when I start yet but, it will surely be a few weeks after graduation.”

If Oikawa had looked up, he would have encountered a face he had never seen in his life, at least not on y/n, his perfect girlfriend. Her lips, barely slightly open to say anything, yet, her eyes full of confusion didn’t match the anger that was beginning to appear on the rest of her face. Still, her voice seemed calm to anyone passing by. Not to him.

“And how long have you been planning to join this team, in…Argentina?” The mere mention of a country, which she only knew was in South America, hurt her deeply. How was it possible that Tooru had made such a decision, without even telling her, his girlfriend of almost two years, once? “You never told me anything.”

“I was contacted at the beginning of third year, but I only said I would take it into consideration, I didn’t want to say no just in case…”

“In case you changed your mind, and wanted to leave the country.” With every word out of the girl’s mouth, her voice became more and more monotone, dry and robotic, all in an attempt to hide the pain it caused her to think that the person she adored so much would surely leave without her. “Does the team know about this?”

“They found out today, at least the first-years. Iwa-chan, Mattsun and Makki were with me when I got the call.” That was the moment Oikawa deigned to look up, realizing that something was wrong, and that, surely things were going to blow up right then and there. “I didn’t tell you anything because, well. I barely decided.”

“But you knew from before, and, the option to leave was there.” y/n said, massaging the bridge of her nose. “And you didn’t think to tell me, your girlfriend.”

“When I got the call we weren’t as serious a couple as we are now, and, as soon as I made my decision, I told you, I’m telling you now.” surely it was the exasperation of the moment, but the boy’s voice sounded like he was demanding something from her. As if she was crazy for asking him to tell her about it.

“Oh, sorry, how ungrateful I am!” she let out a deep sigh, trying to stay calm. “Forgive me for being upset because you didn’t tell me that little detail you had kept for a very long time, what am I not relevant, or did you just assume that when you leave here, we won’t be a couple anymore?”

If looks could kill, Oikawa would already be dead on the pavement. She wasn’t even upset about him fulfilling his dream, it was inevitable, one way or another, he would do whatever was in his power to be the best, wherever he went. It pained her soul to think of him not even having the minimum decency to tell her that he would be leaving.

It seemed even the same night he had shut herself up to listen to the discussion. As if the moon had become curious to hear what was going on in a random street in a prefecture in Japan.

“I didn’t know I was going to make this decision, there was no reason to tell you!” he repeated to her, and, for the first time in years, the mask he had taken so long to polish had slipped just a little from Oikawa’s face. “Not just because you gave me a gift like this, expect me to stay here with you stuck in this shitty place!”

Actions we would rather never do.

“Right, right.” it was all over, and it was clear, Oikawa and y/n were not even slightly in the same space, nor did they have the same idea about the relationship. It had never been like that, and it was so clear that she began to feel like a fool. “Of course, it was always volleyball, wasn’t it? Was I never a priority in your life, or at least somewhat similar or close to as important as that?”

“Love, don’t do this to me. You know I love you, you’re being…” Tooru had a natural talent for charming people and making them work in his favor, and, also for making them believe that everything was fine. But with her it was different, totally different.

“Am I being irrational, or stupid? I know the answer, Tooru. I know well what your priorities are, but I was hoping you’d at least have a little respect for me to tell me you’d leave as soon as you could so I wouldn’t get my hopes up like a stupid girl.” she wasn’t going to cry, not in front of him, because at that moment, her boyfriend thought he was right, he hadn’t done anything wrong, there was no reason for her to be so elated.

Oikawa owed nothing to anyone, not even his girlfriend, and if he decided to leave to get what he wanted, he would. But there was no problem with that, no one was stopping him, much less her who wanted to see him succeed above all, because he deserved it.

She’d seen firsthand all that he had suffered to get to where he was, his time sacrificed and all he gave up to get to where he was. And every defeat was another stab in his heart, a thousand more tears, and an endless list of self-doubt.

She took it upon herself to be there for him as much as he needed, from late nights watching movies, going out everywhere to at least take away the pain left by each defeat.

Memories we would rather erase.

He who is silent gives, and that was what the boy was doing without responding to what his, he assumed, now ex-girlfriend, was questioning. There were no words to say, nothing that could improve the situation. Because a long distance relationship was destined for disaster, because he had already thought of all that, schedules, dates or anything that could save them, but the only thing left was the inevitable end.

“ Goodbye, Oikawa” she finished, clutching her hands to her backpack and moving forward with her head held high. Part of her hoped he would follow her, but, the other, knew very well that if he did, it would only be to drop her off at her front door safe and sound.

And he didn’t, predictably, at least not within her field of vision. She thought she had moved far enough away to cry calmly and release all the pains she had inside her.

She didn’t see Toruu except for the times when neither of them managed to avoid the other, and in a school like that, where their friends were the same, it hadn’t been very easy to stop seeing each other. The last time she did, at least in person, was on graduation day, just two weeks after the rumor of the golden couple was over had exploded like wildfire at school.

The wool now felt like a cursed thing, but, still, she couldn’t get up enough courage to throw away what little was left of that sky-blue yarn that took her so long to find. Or the gifts and photographs, nothing, she couldn’t yet get rid of anything. Not even being able to look Mrs. Oikawa in the eye the day she met her in the street with the news that her son had already left to fulfill his dream.

Soon after, she set off with Makki and Mattsun to see Iwaizumi off at the airport, a flight bound for California and leaving behind an incomplete friendship, the physical memory of all she had lived through. Neither of them blamed her when she decided to stop hanging out with them, she was still heartbroken. They helped her move to Tokyo as soon as she had the chance, a new beginning, in a new city, perhaps the start of a better life.

She found a job at a small restaurant two blocks away from her university that helped keep her from being so tight on expenses, a job that kept her distracted from everything. In her spare time she did nothing but see what was on social media, what was going on with her friends now that they had all split up. A distraction, an avoidance for her pain.

She wondered why she was still following him, why she hadn’t deleted all traces of Oikawa from her phone, but it was too late. When she realized, she was looking at a picture of a cheerful boy, wearing a light blue knitted sweater, and, in the description, simple words. “Thank you for the warm welcome, Argentina!”

Truths we’d rather not hear.

He doesn’t miss you.

taglist: @sugas-sweetheart @kirislut @hannahalanib1 @goopyartiste @yee-harr @ohno-grapes @peach-pops @meliorist-midoriya @milktyama @majestic-sea-flip-flop @starlessnyx @tanakasimpcorner @msbyslugg @ordinary-ace

[misteria247]

Life in a village was a very familiar and boring thing you'd learned growing up. From the moment you were born, you had known nothing else but the village and its way of life. From the hot sun of the savanna hitting your back to the tiny huts that held your fellow villagers. All of these things were things that you knew and grew up with, the same routine everyday for as long as you could remember. A boring routine that you'd come to somewhat dread if you were being honest with yourself, however despite being old enough to leave the village you felt you couldn't. You knew nothing but the stories told of the world outside your village and you'd come to be somewhat anxious at the thought of leaving your home despite how bored you'd become. Plus you had another reason for staying in the quiet, sleepy village. Your beloved father, the chief leader of the village needed you. The two of you took care of one another, and you couldn't imagine life without him being somewhere nearby you.

So you stayed, doing your daily routine that had long since grown stale. You'd wake up and feed your livestock and then help your father and fellow villagers with whatever they needed without compliant. Though sometimes when night fell and you were alone with your thoughts you couldn't help but wish for something to change. For something exciting to happen to your usually mundane existence. However once those thoughts came through you quickly dismissed them not wanting to dwell on such things. After all you had your place among the village and even though it was dull you loved your home and the peace that you'd grown up in.

But what you'd failed to realize was that peace didn't last forever.

It'd been just another day for you. You'd woken up with the rising sun and went to feed your livestock before cleaning up and making breakfast for you and your father. The smell of food cooking had awoken him just as it always did and he'd sat down at the table to eat his meal. The two of you spoke about the errands that needed done when your father had let out a small coughing fit. You gazed at him in concern but he'd waved you off saying that it was nothing. You hesitantly let it go despite the unease you'd felt whenever you'd heard him cough. After you two finished eating you put the dishes away and giving your father a goodbye kiss on his cheek you left your hut and went to start your day. It was around mid day when you'd received the news. You'd been helping one of the older villagers with their garden when your father's adviser came running towards the hut, kicking up dust from behind him.

"Lady (Y/N)! Thank the gods I'd found you-!"

The adviser said in between pants. You stood up from your crouched position, wiping your hands off on your dress, a confused look on your face.

"What's the matter? You're practically out of breath-"

You'd started to say before you were interrupted by the adviser.

"It's your father! He's collapsed!"

The sentence sent an icy chill into your veins, your heart stopping for a moment.

"What?!? Take me to him now!"

You commanded already picking up your bag and ready to go. Everything after that was a blur to you. You followed the adviser back towards the place where your father was. Bursting into the hut you felt your stomach twist into knots when you took sight of him. Your father laid in bed, his skin pale and clammy. His breathing was wispy and rattling slightly as he struggled to breath. Whenever he'd gotten enough air he'd cough, the sound making your heart drop as you realized that the little coughing fit from this morning had gotten worse. The healer was with him, his withered face filled with a solemn look. You could barely process what he'd told you afterwards. Just bits and pieces of the conversation sticking to you like leeches onto your skin.

Severely sick, no known cure, doesn't have much time left.

It was a nightmare. A horrible nightmare that you couldn't wake up from. After you'd dismissed the healer and your father's adviser you'd took over taken care of your father. You refused to leave his side, staying with him all throughout the rest of the day and night. Whenever you weren't with him you searched for a cure to his illness. Soon that day turned into days, then days turned into weeks. The longer time passed the more bleak your father's fate became. With each passing day he grew worse and the healer as well as yourself were at a loss of what to do. So you turned to your father's sacred library and opened the ancient tomes to see if you could find anything, growing more and more desperate for something. Anything to save your beloved father. It was then you'd stumbled upon the legend, one that had been told for generations.

The kingdom of the Afterglow Savanna.

It was said that those who lived there were full of magic and had an abundance of healing herbs and other medicines. Those who sought help for illnesses and other things would go to the people of the land and seek guidance from them. However the land had vanished, no trace of the Afterglow Savanna remained and after many centuries passed the kingdom had been nothing more than a myth. A story told to children before bed or at campfires surrounded by companions. But now.....now you couldn't help but consider it as a possible route to check out. As you closed the tome again you heard your father's raspy rattling cough, the sound making your heart break slightly. Your father was running out of time.

'If there's even a small chance of this place being real.....if there's even a small chance that I can save my father.....then I'll take it. I won't know unless I try.'

With a newfound resolve you began to pack. You grabbed everything you deemed necessary, from the ancient book about the kingdom to food and water. Once your knapsack was full you wrote a note to the healer and the adviser, letting them know that you would be gone for a while and for them to keep an eye on the village. Once written and placed on the desk you silently made your way towards your father's bedroom. You took in the sight of him, his clammy skin and swallow breathing. With quiet steps you made your way to his bed and bent down to give him a kiss on his feverish forehead, fighting the sudden lump in your throat.

"I'll be back papa. I'm going to save you, no matter what. Just please.....hang on. I love you....."

You whispered softly to his unconscious body. With a great amount of effort you pulled yourself away from him and left the hut and disappeared into the night. You passed by all the homes that held your villagers before finally hitting the edge of the village. You stopped for a beat, sudden anxiety hitting you as you realized what exactly what you were planning to do dawned on you. For the first time in your life you were going to leave the village. The only home you'd ever known. You had no idea how you were going to do this, and for a brief moment you considered turning back around and forgetting this whole thing. Then you thought back to your father, remembering how he was before getting sick. You remembered how healthy his (S/C) skin was before it'd been pale and feverish. How the sun hit his hair that he braided with beads and other things and how his (E/C) hues sparkled with pride and love whenever he'd see something you'd accomplished. Your father who raised you when your mother died, your father who was the most important person in your life. Your father who was currently dying from an illness that had no known cure.

'If I turn around now then papa is going to die. I can't let that happen. Come on (Y/N), you can do this. You're the daughter of the greatest chief this village has ever known. A bloodline that is fearless. You can do this, it's in your blood.'

With a deep breath and with a straightened posture, you braced yourself and stepped out of the village line and made your way into the dusty lands that laid ahead of you. With a determined fire burning within your (E/C) eyes you started your journey.

You would save your father.

Even if it killed you.

*..........Hehehehe I know I've got several other things going on in the world of writing but......I couldn't help myself. I'd had this idea in my head for a bit on and off and I'd decided to write something for it. It's not really good but I enjoyed writing it! My thought process was along the lines of this: Princess from a small village goes on a life changing journey to save her father whose been affected by an unknown illness. Along the way she meets a few companions (cough Leona, Ruggie, and Jack) who all are searching for the kingdom of Afterglow Savanna for their own reasons. Possible romance between the two main characters (cough you and Leona). That's all I got so far shdhdhdhg. Anyways I don't know if I'll continue this but I hope you like it! Anyways if any y'all read this I hope you enjoyed it!*

[phmonth]

Phmonth21 (and Vncweek) Prompts!!

We have our prompts for Pandora Hearts Month 2021!! A huge thank you to everyone who voted!!!! 😘

Pandora Hearts Month is an event that regards the main Pandora Hearts trios (Golden Trio, Rainsworth Trio, and Tragedy Trio) and two bonus weeks, one in which we focus on any ships/friendships/ot3 fans chose and love, and another for Vanitas no Carte. You can create edits, fanart, drabbles, fanfictions, amvs and mms.

Please remember to tag this blog @phmonth2021, and/or me @i-prefer-the-term-antihero and/or Maddy @maddyisenough in your posts, to make sure we reblog them!!

I also made a collection on Ao3 for writers!! So please post your Ao3 fics to the collection, and/or tag your posts on Ao3 with Phmonth21 so i can find them!!

And don't forget to either put a link, or a “read more” on long fics if you are a writer (or long posts in general), so it’s easier for us to reblog!

For VNCweek tag your spoilers, folks!! There are plenty of people who are either behind, or haven’t gotten around to reading it at all yet but want to. So if you think something might be spoilery, better safe than sorry!

Lastly, don’t forget to join our discord if you haven’t!! It’s a fun place to discuss the series and more easily share your creations!!

Without further ado, here are the prompts!

Golden Trio Week (Alice, Oz and Gilbert), Feb 28th—6th:

Day 1, Sunday Feb 28th: Snuggle

Day 2, Monday March 1st: Obsession

Day 3, Tuesday Mar 2nd: AU

Day 4, Wednesday Mar 3rd: Spring

Day 5, Thursday Mar 4th: Present

Day 6, Friday Mar 5th: Gold

Day 7, Saturday Mar 6th: Rabbit  

Rainsworth Trio Week (Sharon, Break and Reim), March 7th—Mar 13th:

Day 1, Sunday Mar 7th: Tired

Day 2, Monday Mar 8th: Crown and/or Blind

Day 3, Tuesday Mar 9th: Blush

Day 4, Wednesday Mar 10th: Glasses

Day 5, Thursday Mar 11th: Autumn

Day 6, Friday Mar 12th: Regret

Day 7, Saturday Mar 13th: Carnival

Tragedy Trio Week (Lacie, Jack and Oswald), March 14th—20th:

Day 1, Sunday Mar 14th 🕑: Silver

Day 2, Monday Mar 15th: Face and/or Influence

Day 3, Tuesday Mar 16th: Fire

Day 4, Wednesday Mar 17th🍀: Conscience

Day 5, Thursday Mar 18th: Maybe

Day 6, Friday Mar 19th: Ancient

Day 7, Saturday Mar 20th: Feather

Fan’s choice Week, March 21st—17th:

Day 1, Sunday Mar 21st: Doll

Day 2, Monday Mar 22th: Scarlet

Day 3, Tuesday Mar 23th: Trapped

Day 4, Wednesday Mar 24th: Letter

Day 5, Thursday Mar 25th: Winter

Day 6, Friday Mar 26th: Butterfly

Day 7, Saturday Mar 27th🥖🍷: Masquerade

Vncweek, March 28th—April 3rd:

Day 1, Sunday Mar 28th🌴: Rumor

Day 2, Monday Mar 29th🧡💖💛: Passion

Day 3, Tuesday Mar 30th: Myth

Day 4, Wednesday Mar 31th: Witch

Day 5, Thurday April 1st🃏: White

Day 6, Friday April 2nd✝️: Faith

Day 7, Saturday April 3rd: Dissonance

You are free to have fun with this!! As long as you tag it, NSFW is allowed! (Writing/tagging the ships is nice too). You can pretty much do whatever you want with the prompts!!

You can join any time, and use as many or as few prompts as you want!! And you don't have to post on the day if you can’t make it!! We’ll reblog things late.

For the trio weeks, as long as you make sure the characters from the trio are your main focus, it’s okay to use other characters in your creations too!!

Since nobody really said anything about my other post, the fourth week will remain Fan’s Choice week, as it’s always been. But just know, if you decide to write specifically about characters who aren’t covered by the other weeks, you get bonus points from me!!

Since we live across the world, you are free to post whenever the day is for you. I myself will be making posts according to my time, which is Central Standard Time in America.

Feel free to get started on making stuff early!!

We’re so excited to see what you make!!! Thank you for all your support!!

i-prefer-the-term-antihero

[jessicafurseth]

Reading List, Joyful Effort triple edition.

"Month by month things are losing their hardness; even my body lets the light through; my spine is soft like wax near the flame of a candle. I dream; I dream." - Virginia Woolf

[Image]

* Joan Didion’s Greatest Two-Word Sentence (Molly Fischer, The Cut)

Travellers who were lost forever: Tourists who experience India Syndrome (Harley Rustad, The Guardian)

I Miss the Unhinged Instagram of 2012 (Andie Kent, Refinery29)

"There’s something distinctly attractive about a man who feels so uninclined to broadcast his thoughts that he hasn’t even created a space for himself to do so." Maybe all boyfriends should be offline (Danielle Cohen, The Cut)

"Are we experiencing a parallel pandemic, or having a rational response to a traumatic world?" Are you mentally ill, or very unhappy? (Sophie McBain, The New Statesman)

"When 25 million people leave their jobs, it’s about more than just burnout." The Age of Anti-Ambition (Noreen Malone, The New York Times)

Three Myths of the Great Resignation (Derek Thompson, The Atlantic)

"There is always a vibe shift coming; there is always the next thing before we’re ready for the next thing, before we had even figured out how to get used to the last one. There is no breathing space between one day and the next, between one year and the next. What we loved is always already over, and we always got here just too late.  ... All anybody wants is for it to stop, just for a day, just for a minute. Everyone hating the idea of a vibe shift was funny, and petty, and stupid, but it also pointed toward that soft longing for things to stay still for just one second. What I want most to give everyone I love is a pause, a break, a single day when nothing happens."  [Helena Fitzgerald]

"I wonder to myself, Is my life smaller now in a small city? I ask because when people move here with more consciousness, without the fog of new love, they seem to experience a real shock, a shock I’m not immune to sometimes. ... But I don’t think my life is smaller—it doesn’t feel that way, even when we go weeks without leaving the tiny neighborhood of Old San Juan. If anything, the turn inward—into the home, into books, into myself—has let me have peace to write and to cook, to form easier-going friendships. Life here can feel as fresh and open as childhood, full of dreaminess and possibility.  It can also feel like the exact opposite." [Alicia Kennedy]

"The most popular calendar-reform proposal was for the year to consist of 364 days that always have the same weekday attached to them, and then to have a couple “blank days” at the end of the year that don’t count as part of any seven-day week." Why Do Weeks Have Seven Days? [Joe Pinsker, The Atlantic]

‘My wife says I’m getting weird’: Man offers free pancakes to make friends (Sydney Page, The Washington Post)

Do I Really Need a Toilet? On renting in the big city (Stephen Ruddy, The New York Times)

Schoolchildren in the British capital have developed a dialect, Multicultural London English (Rebecca Mead, The New Yorker)

“Lots of people who love wild swimming barely swim at all. They just get in and bob about a bit. I think it is fantastic to swim any which way you want to—except judgmentally of others.” The Subversive Joy of Cold-Water Swimming (Rebecca Mead, The New Yorker)

Why the ancient art of gleaning is making a comeback across England (Rachel Stevenson, The Guardian) ... and also, On Gleaning (Alicia Kennedy)

Anna Marie Tendler Turns the Lens on Herself (Emily Gould, Harpers Bazaar)

"Like an inheritance, a name in so many ways has nothing to do with us, is a privilege we did nothing to earn, and presents a legal and social burden should we wish to shed it. ... When it passes from private to public, the letters written onto a line on a birth document, a name takes on the politics, religious beliefs, and cultural and linguistic predilections of the society we’ve come from, which may well shift if we join a new one. Expectations around gender, class, and race solidify in a name, well before a person even has teeth." What's Not in a Name? (Thu-Huong Ha, The Believer)

"Was there any hope in a democracy without a shared set of basic facts? Had my elders fled one authoritarian regime only for their children to face another? Amid the gloom, I found only a single morsel of solace: My mom was as hopeful as she’d ever been." My Mom Believes In QAnon. I’ve Been Trying To Get Her Out. [Albert Samaha, Buzzfeed]

When a Major Life Change Upends Your Sense of Self - Five strategies for moving forward on a path of identity growth rather than being stuck at identity paralysis (Madeline Toubiana, Trish Ruebottom, Luciana Turchick Hakak at the Harvard Business Review)

"The general sensory deprivation of being at home and understimulated increased their need [to get tattooed]. ... The specific, productive pain, the undeniability of the sensation, felt like a healing counteraction to a year in which nothing seemed to touch the sides." How did I satisfy my restless hunger for touch? I got a new tattoo (Megan Nolan, The Guardian)

I Didn’t Need a Penis to Be a Man. But I Needed One to Be Me (Gabriel Mac, New York Magazine)

The pleasure of a chancer unmasked (Zoe Williams, The Guardian)

The Banality of Genius: Notes on Peter Jackson's Get Back If you adored 'Get Back' as much as I did, this one's for you (Ian Leslie)

Melancholy B&W photos from London in the 70s and 80s [The Londonist]

[gambitimagines]

J’tadore Vous Part 3

Sorry this isn’t as soon as I/you would’ve liked. Insomnia weeks again! Also, I figure everyone understands I’m human and need breaks to recharge, have other responsibilities and can’t write fics all day, as fun as that would be. Thanks!

The legend is my own imagining based off Remy’s less-than-flattering nickname for the purpose of the story.

Warnings: Jack the Ripper references, but nothing graphic. Mentions of women being accosted and other stuff, but nothing too horrid. If men locking car doors triggers you, skip where the asterisks are.

-------

You we’re up late researching Remy, but not so late you couldn’t get up the next morning. You headed to the museum to look into a lead. The legend of Le Diablo Blanc-the white devil. (Not to be confused with Daredevil.) 

Legend had it that a mysterious figure showed up around New Orleans around the 1900s, the same time as a man was doing some horrific “Jack-the-Ripper” inspired killings, but a bit less dark. Young women were accosted, preyed upon and several were killed, or wounded if they managed to somehow get away. Then, one day, mentions of a savior started spreading like wildfire through the town. He would pull away damsels in distress, but they never saw his face. He wore a black mask to cover his features, but all you could see were glowing red eyes and white skin, so the papers branded him Le Diablo Blanc. Stories went around of him throwing playing cards that exploded at the murderer, but he didn’t catch him for about a year. Until 1915. The killer was dropped off at the local police station tied up with some rope, looking worse for wear, and the queen of hearts card stuffed into a large gash in his arm.

After that, there were a few stories in surrounding southern states about the hero rescuing people, but they completely stopped in 1918. The hero had hung up his mask for a quieter life. 

You weren’t positive that he and Remy were one in the same, but it was worth looking into. Then there was the picture. You planned to take it to your friend at Kensworth’s Copies to be blown up for a better look. 

At the museum, you looked through the historical books and files for anything on Le Diablo Blanc or Remy LeBeau. Despite being a museum of _Natural_ History, the place had many books, files, CD’s, and other media on general history about the nation and the world. You also planned on going to the library, because they might have something there. Newspaper articles or something. You didn’t know how much fame Remy had garnered over the years, if any, but billionaires never seemed to stay out of the limelight. 

“You’re here? On a weekend?” Jenny entered the office looking exhausted. Her hair was a mess and she looked frazzled. What the actual frigging heck?

“Personal project,” You murmured, barely looking up from the many open books in front of you, “If I’m in the way, I can step out for a bit, but this is important.”

“No, no.” Jenny waved her hands, “I’m just a corporate slave. There’s a meeting with the higher ups at freaking nine-am and I was instructed to come, take some notes and be amicable to that snake, Misses Winters.” 

Mrs. Winters was a 70-something year old woman who was the head of the museum. You crossed her, you were fired. She was known as cold-hearted and ruthless. Not a warm person.

“How did yesterday go with the mutie?”

“I told you not to use that word around me. It went fine.” You looked up a moment. Jenny really did look like garbage today. “Why do you look so...out of sorts?”

“Didn’t sleep good. Sister and her five-month old twins needed a place to stay at two this morning. She got into another argument with her husband.” Jenny drank her coffee, “I’m gonna go freshen up. Have fun on your _day off_. See you _Monday_.” She was venomous, but you couldn’t blame her. Everyone needed their sleep.

In moments, you forgot her. Somewhere between ancient Mesopotamia and the California gold rush, you found more stories of a dashing red-eyed savior sprinkled throughout history. You went back further in history, jumping around books. 

1842-Colombu’s travels include a snippet about a red-eyed man saving one of his ships from thieves before leaving port by somehow blowing up several barrels.

1924-Remy’s picture is clearly snapped in a crowd at the opening of one of the first Ford Automotive companies.

1912-The Queen of England is saved by a man only known as LeBeau. No other description is given.

1202 A.D- The Mayans have a symbol carved into a wall of a hand seemingly on fire. One of their villages had a rockslide the week before, but the casualties hadn’t been that bad.   

1995-Remy Picard gets his picture in the New York Chronicle for making 500 billion and donating some of his money to a new children’s hospital. 

You sit back in your chair a moment. Taking it all in. Was it a trick? Coincidence? You needed to know more. You got your bag and headed to the library.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx 

You went through the history section at the New York City library, getting out book after book again. It took over two hours, but you’d made out a hypothesis.

Remy was possibly born around the time Egypt reigned, if not earlier. He had to survive because of his mutantcy, you knew that much. He’d obviously amassed billions, keeping his profile low key over the recent years, for the most part. Hide in plain sight and you wouldn’t get caught. As far as the public knew, he was a rich mutant, nothing more. He’d hung up his hero status for reasons unknown, but he wasn’t as “young” as the history book claimed.

The figment, the savior, the man with the seductive, beautiful red eyes wasn’t a myth shrouded in stories and half-truths. He was real. And he wasn’t hundreds of years old. He was _thousands_ of years old!

The book you were looking at in the library shut loudly, making you jump. Remy was beside you.

“So, you found out my secret, after all, Cherie. You come with me. We need to talk.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Remy drove the two of you to an empty parking lot away from the city. You were suddenly terrified. What did he do to people that found out his secret? Kill them?

******************************************************************************

Your anxiety wasn’t helped when you heard the doors lock with a click.

“Wh-wh-what are you planning on?” you stuttered.

“Easy, (Y/N). I just want to talk and don’t want you storming out on me. We’re gonna have a talk and I’m going to explain everything.”

“Okay,” You couldn’t stop shaking. You wished you’d bought pepper spray, but your fears were calmed a little as he placed his large hands over yours.

******************************************************************************

“I’m not going to hurt you. I’d never think of hurting you, please don’t be so scared of me,” Remy insisted, his eyes soulful and pleading. He really seemed to mean it.

You just nodded.

“I was born in the time of  Pharoh when Egypt was the ruling power.  A scholar took me under his wing and raised me, but was killed in battle. I was trained to fight, but because of my eyes and powers, the Pharoh Rama-Tut tried to have me assassinated, thinking I’d take over. I didn’t have any desire for prestige or kingship, I just wanted to live my life out and die as normal, but we don’t always get what we want. That’s the secondary part of my mutation; I live a long time. Maybe forever, I don’t know. I do know that I’ve forced myself into isolation and it’s getting boring. I gave you that picture on purpose, hoping you’d be curious enough to find out my secret. You’re cute and sweet. I meant it when I said I wanted to get to know you, and I want you to know me as well. No secrets. But there’s something else, and I don’t want you to get angry,”

“Oh, what? My manager is in the trunk because you’re out to stop bigotry?” You scoffed. You’d gradually stopped shaking, feeling better. Safer with him.

“I tried to save people, but I couldn’t save everyone. Women and children have died in my arms. Men hunted me down for what I was, even when I was trying to do the right thing. The best thing. To help and save others. I’ve made mistakes and people got hurt, people died. I just don’t want that to make you see me differently,” Remy said, “Someone else did once. Renay LeFluer. She never forgave me.”

“I’m not her, Remy.” You tentatively touched his shoulder, “I get it. You can’t save everyone. No one can, not even superheroes. You can trust me too.”

Silence.

“Thank you, (Y/N). I’m glad we understand each other but are we on the same page? Would you like to go out with me?” Remy asked.

“I’d love that, Remy. Now?”

“Tomorrow night,” Remy said, “You’ve had a long morning and it’s only Saturday. The place I have in mind is upscale, so you have to look your best.-Not that you aren’t cute now.” He brushed some hair out of your face.

“I’ll look forward to it,” You smiled.

Remy took you back to your car. You had many questions but didn’t want to bombard him all at once. That could wait until you saw him again.

TO BE CONTINUED