#thematic hike

[thetravelerdiary]

Sintra 🖤

[butchlifeguard]

save me idea i had for a summer tarot card design. i think about it a lot for someone who doesnt believe in that shit at all

[two-calicos-in-a-trenchcoat]

My parents keep dangling puppies in front of me while im having the puppy fever

Like.

As I've mentioned on here before

My dads friends dog had puppies recently

We were talking about the puppies and my mom asked my dad if we were getting one of them. And that she wasn't gonna like. Push for taking one of the puppies. But that she also wouldn't be mad if he happened to bring one home

My dad said he wasn't gonna do that

BUT

I KNOW why he, the guy who always wants puppies, feels this way.

Chewby is GLUED to him

Total velcro dog.

She loves me and my mom and likes doing stuff with us

But shes nervous as hell when my dad doesn't go places with us. And shes super sad when he leaves her home with us when he can't take her with him

But the amount that shes glued to him annoys him a bit

And I get a very strong feeling that he thinks getting another dog would mean having another dog that attached to him at the hip

And like. Dad. Father. My guy.

I

Would like to train a puppy right now. I want to be in charge of a puppy rn. And honestly this is a good time for that cuz im not working so I have the time and energy to put into training and socializing a puppy. YOU would not need to do shit.

Not that he would do much anyway cuz he is awful about training his dogs. I trained layla when we got her when I was NINE and didnt know wtf I was doing with NO direction from anyone. Chewby came mostly pre trained but my dad makes almost no effort to actually work with her on things she needs help with. And while I've been TRYING to work with her, she's so glued to my dad that I don't get to work with her as often as I would like or as much as she needs and he doesn't like to listen to my advice anyway so he just kinda undoes whatever progress I make.

I want a puppy that I can work with as much as I want (within reason obviously)

Like. I love chewby and still want to work with her and do stuff with her. But I dont like being at the mercy of my dads whims.

Also its been almost 17 years since the last time I had a puppy. I barely even remember that CUZ I WAS NINE. Like I have a good memory but like. Puppies are puppies for such a short amount of time. Also some traumatic shit started happening just the year after that so my memories from that time of my life in particular are a little fuzzy.

I want a puppy. Mom wouldn't be against him bringing one home. His desire for acreage so that he can have as many dogs as he wants is very unlikely to happen. His friend would 100% give him a puppy if he asked for one. I AM FULLY WILLING TO DO ALL THE WORK. I WANT TO DO THE WORK.

AHHHHH

[elizabethrobertajones]

summer scions!! I absolutely love the new portraits for all their smug happy expressions. Except Y'shtola, who is not going to deign to give a camera a proper saucy look because that's silly. Urianger is smirking twice as hard on her behalf.

Glam review under the cut!

I unlocked Alphinaud first of the twins and didn't know Alisaie had a little necktie yet, so I'm deducting a point from my first impression because the sheer delight that he had a silly little necktie of some sort no matter the situation delighted me so thoroughly. Since they're still engaging in matchy twin dressing to some degree, I have to assume they either like it and won't admit it after digging in so hard, or Ameliance sent them off with cute outfits and matching backpacks, and they still don't really shop for themselves.

He's got the practical watch/compass gloves which are good for a technically proficient Sage and probably the most practical gear he's ever worn except for when he was poncho Alphy, but wearing ankle-length jeans seem like the least weather-appropriate choice of the Scions if we assume their average skin coverage is a good weathervane for the temperature in Tural. I chalk it up to teenage awkwardness.

8/10 unless he and Alisaie chose their outfits themselves, in which case it's a 9/10

I think Alisaie is the only Scion to keep a single piece of their default gear, and those are her usual gloves. She's colour-matched around it.

Because of the gloves and boots, she looks the most ready for hardcore hiking, somehow, and her matching Alphinaud with a cute button down shirt with rolled up sleeves along with that particular choice of baggier shorts (when she normally wears more form fitting shorts) do give me the closest to butch vibes it's probably likely to get for main characters. So I'm giving her an extra point I stole from Alphinaud for the lesbian vibes.

9/10 or 10/10 if she made these choices all by herself.

Everything about this cracks me up, from his portrait above to the image of him tanking open shirted once he pulls mobs.

Believe it or not, he's getting an additional point for those shoes simply because the competition in practicality in tanking is G'raha.

I had a moment of excitement when I thought the necklace was pink because that's always a cute Ryne/Minfillia thing fanartists give him with ribbons and such, but once I got zoomed in on him it was red, so I guess he's just been shopping. Although, the turquoise shorts are her eye colour and the actual large diamond shapes are secretly Mothercrystal coded in those colours, which just cracks me up that you can pick out one of the worse days of his life (Urianger's grand Warrior of Darkness plan) in his Chill Summer Beach Vibes look.

Douchebag beach bro shell bracelet as well, which really makes me double down on him and Urianger spending way too much on tourist bait along the stalls in the Famous Turali Market. The hat and sunglasses are giving him one of the Most tourist-y looks thematically reflecting how a lot of the Scion guys were just here to hang out, narratively or literally. Maybe he's trying not to get such an intense tan again, which is the only reason he's not entirely topless.

11/10 I could not stop laughing when I got him and Urianger to 100 and Beheld The Brilliance in the same moment.

Please note the raised sunglasses in Urianger's portrait, which are not the model his character uses.

I am delighted that I had been incorporating that island watch into my healer glams on both the logic you need to know your clock positionals but also they're largely the smarty pants jobs (WHM being vibes only aside - it gets its own glams :P). And here's Urianger and Alphinaud both using watches.

Now, I had a moment of being vaguely disappointed he had trousers not a skirt or something else swishy and androgynous, but then I did realise that I, a nonbinary weirdo who relates to Urianger since he made me nonbinary, have actually gone to a couple of garden parties dressed in some variation of this exact outfit of light trousers and a nice button up. Plus, the earrings are in both ears, so no "Google, which ear is the gay one?", these are just straight up cute femme dangly earrings with his favourite little dudes on.

More importantly, the colours he's repping are those of Lopporit Radio. He probably tunes in every night for his broadcasts :')

Mirrored sunglasses for the guy notorious for keeping thoughts and plans close to his chest and choosing deliberately to be enigmatic even when it serves zero purpose except for I guess gender affirming care. (The gender is Weird Bitch.)

I can't tell how I feel about those dad sandals. I suppose it depends if he's wearing them like a fashion model (brand new and clean with perfect pedicured feet) or if those are REALLY dad at the beach-like and, since I'm not a foot person, this for me is only a choice between "not off-putting" and "AURGH".

9/10 the proximity to Thancred hauls him up several points of misgivings I had, and the lopporit shout outs are killing me :')

I unlocked Y'shtola last and holy fuck I am a lesbian. I don't even recognise where those boots come from, so either a really expensive glam or something I just have not stumbled on. She has toe rings I think? And painted nails? I have no idea if the garter (?) is part of the boots glam or a custom thing as result of not recognising the boots and how much of them is normal. I feel like they customised a lot on her anyway - the back of her top has purple beads that match her staff (not dyable on the real piece)

and I think the necklace has to be part of the top instead of a separate necklace piece with the way it hangs, AND the bracelets are a glove piece with the original summer glam, but I assume they're layered with the false nails, also in the glove slot. All in all it's giving the sort of effort which is starting to creep up to what I'd expect from the modding community not the game. I mean, not THAT good but getting close. Baby steps towards what fandom can make :P

She really is god's favourite meow meow.

Anyway I can't really judge this fairly because it's really hot and I love her so I'm just going to give it 100/10 and move on. :)

how did I get a picture where Estinien looks like he's stooping to get in the frame...

The fact he has Azure Dragoon Blue Top and then Violently Nidhogg Fuchsia shorts is the colour theory that absolutely killed me. When he lights up during his burst and starts glowing pink all over his shorts are like. Taking him over like the eye once did I think.

love a guy who can embrace his past trauma and dress to match all that has passed before and all that he intends to do now (kill something large and tasty, grill it on the beach, fall asleep with a beer in hand until the waves come in and wake him up).

I gave him that wooden bracelet in the glam he has on my desktop screen so once again I'm feeling weirdly vindicated.

Other details: no ponytail despite the warm weather because he's got enough ventilation. The fact there's cactaurs on his shirt when he's on record for eating them is amazing. We should imagine he's wearing his jobstone like that pendant (since he's one of the only guys with a confirmed jobstone despite being the Guy Without A Job notoriously that one time.)

Unlike Thancred's hat and sunglasses combo, which seems fun and boisterous somehow, he seems the most walled off of all the sunglasses wearers even though he's not the most mysterious. The visor really helps make it a sort of wall. Maybe just because his terse upfront personality and somehow despite his clothes horse habits THIS amount of whimsy seems the most out of character at first glance, but he DOES look uncomfortable to me.

Somehow I find everything about this outfit excellent for his character but also like maybe he was forced into it, everyone cornering him and telling him the Scion Beach Party was a mandatory work event and he was not allowed to beg off of it and he did put some work in expressing himself but also is going to go find a much quieter corner to lurk in for the day, when not competing with Thancred (can't grill, loves it) for the barbeque (Estinien can grill, would only do it because the threat of Thancred doing it wrong is too high).

confused 7/10 mostly because I think Krile is blackmailing him and not because I don't love everything about this.

Here's how G'reenha Tia can still win -

Anyway here's the deducted point for tanking in flip flops (PERFECTLY acceptable BLM gear btw but he's Mr Versatile.)

(I joke but the main character of my novels is a flip-flop wearing menace who could and would tank in them)

Between the padlock and key necklace and the woven bracelet right after we all went feral over the Thavnarian bracelets for couples thing so recently (and Corvos is just across the water!) he's absolutely dripping cutie pie love interest coding yet again.

(Also yes I know the lock and key thing is very funny because we were introduced to him learning he was a fancy key to a big door.)

Gains a point back because the other green g'raha thing is I'm pretty sure people use this shirt glam because it kinda looks like it has weed on it.

Don't quote me on that, vibes only.

Anyway he came colour coordinated (with his original eye colour and hair colour not the bright Allagan dalamud red dye that goes with his normal outfit) so so precise and neat, like he's going to some sort of formal event, and even with flip flops he really does seem incredibly put together like the twins or Y'shtola, just for full outfit cohesiveness.

As someone who would hold G'raha's hand on the romantic gondola vibe, 10/10.

3 out of 10 and a huge cringe if you would not. He's got to stop Striving.

Hey it's the star of the show!! Adorable hairstyle out, cute plot-important earring on, and wearing her exact character colours but adorable beach wear :)

I love that she looks kind of like she went to the girls for advice and got the top from Y'shtola and the shorts from Alisaie, and she probably was very serious and stressed about getting this right even though there's no rules and no one's judging her -

oops.

Anyway the ballet shoes are adorable and go with all the cute picto spins and twirls :)

I think the strict colour scheme does speak to the slight lack of fleshing out she got so far in the story (we don't really have any real character reason that picto in particular spoke to her and this glam isn't one of the many fun takes people had on how to dress to meet that brief ). I don't think DT did more than just repeat that she's serious and sweet and trying really hard to get out of her shell and be more fun and creative and also she's been practicing dodging really hard she shouts mid-Trust combat (bless her). But ALSO getting out of the shell is really hard and she only found out everything and got some closure in the final level 100 quests so there wasn't really much to do with her after that.

This is like her First Non-Plot-Critical Whimsy Moment and losing the hood or any cat ears entirely (and there are perfectly functional cat ears to wear in game) is a good step considering we know she wears it precisely because she needed a sort of advance PR campaign to make her look cute and approachable before she opened her mouth and started bringing down the vibe (serious scary children are SO funny though and i love that for her). Having the same top as Y'shtola is a good thing for trying to make her less childish and have her trying to show that now as she takes this huge step out from the background. I mean, it still has a slight sense of her costuming herself and pushing herself out of comfort zones as she always does, but it's 100% in character so I adore it.

1000/10 because Krile is great and there's so much going on here and it's so fun when a character's whole personality is a costume and then they're like aurgh wait do I even want that??

[moutainrusing]

thematics

In literally every ride at the Hogwarts Theme Park, Remus fell asleep. Even in the fastest roller coasters, the tallest drop towers, the soaking water rides… nothing. He peacefully kept his eyes closed, and Sirius kept having to shake him whenever they had to get out. He, James, Peter: all screaming their lungs out. But Remus? His lungs had never been more at rest.

It was infuriating. Sirius was pissed because how could he be more scared than Remus, and was Remus really not enjoying the trip? Was it so boring for him that he was falling asleep at every opportunity?

He decided to make things more interesting. Instead of obsessively following the map as James and Peter were doing, he plucked it from their hands, chucked it in the nearest bin, grabbed their wrists, and sprinted in whatever direction available, giving James enough time to grab the dazed Remus, who was utterly out of it. They hurtled down cobbled paths, laughing hysterically as the four of them barged into pissed off strangers, but really? They should expect reckless teens causing trouble. It was a theme park, after all.

He paused at an ice cream stall, where he threw more than enough money needed at the workers, before dragging them into the cart, and making the most obnoxious flavour combinations known to human.

“Oi!” The workers yelled, while Sirius took over, scooping a glob of mango onto a cone which was already piled high with mint chocolate and pistachio. Exotic. James stared at him incredulously, apologised to the workers, before digging right in. And Peter kept apologising to the workers, while Remus blinked dopily.

“Here,” Sirius shoved the ice cream into his face, and Remus took it with a frown.

“I don’t—”

And Sirius proceeded to shove it right onto Remus’s goody-good face. Which in turn made Remus go from goody-good to trouble-making when he scooped up a massive glob of vanilla ice cream and smeared it over Sirius’s hair.

“Aw, man, wish my hair had taste buds,” Sirius whined, winking at Remus. He then made a normal-sized ice cream (chocolate, Remus’s favourite), and rapidly manoeuvred them to the Gryffindor drop tower. Only the bravest souls dared to go on, because it was dangerous, fast, and incredibly tall.

“Sit down boys!” Sirius commanded.

“This’ll make me sick,” Peter grumbled, sitting down anyway.

James laughed. “You didn’t even eat any ice cream!”

“Trying to reduce my chances,” Peter sighed. “But all that running…”

“Mate, you loved it, and you’re gonna love this,” Sirius declared, pulling Remus to sit and passing him the cone. “Dare you to eat this while on the ride.”

Remus raised a brow, took the cone, and took Sirius up on the dare. And he ate like he was on perfectly level ground. “MATE, WHAT THE FUCK?!” He yelled, while the ride did funny things to his stomach.

Remus merely smirked, saying, “I find rides rather relaxing. It’s always easier to eat or sleep on them.”

James screamed, “AHHH GO REMUS OH MY GOD MY BELLY HELP!”

Peter simply kept screaming, giving Remus a shaky thumbs up before clinging to Sirius for dear life. Sirius gritted his teeth and tried to understand how this ride could possibly be comforting.

“Want a bite?” Remus waved the cone in his face.

Sirius glared, defiantly taking a bite of the cone and crunching it loudly in Remus’s ear.

“Alright, next ride!” He announced, jumping off his seat as soon as they hit the ground.

“‘M gonna puke…” Peter mumbled.

“Nah, you’re not,” James grinned, lifting Peter up and placing him on Sirius’s shoulders. He smirked, “Where d’you wanna run next, Sirius?”

Sirius glared, hiking Peter up his back, and continuing his run. Admittedly, it was less fast. In fact, Remus and James merely strode beside him, hand-in-hand because Remus had somehow reached a record-breaking level of calm from the record-breaking levels of speed that was the Gryffindor drop tower, in a meditative state of mind, completely directionless and oblivious, requiring James to pull him along.

“Oh, this is nice,” Peter sighed. “Thanks, James.”

“Oi, I’m the one carrying you.”

“…Thanks, Sirius.”

“That wasn’t very sincere.”

“You’re the one trying to kill us!”

Sirius grumbled. “Remus could never be killed.”

James laughed, “Oh, so you’re trying to kill Remus? I think you’ll die first, mate.”

Sirius glared, dumping Peter onto James and pointing at the Ravenclaw roller coaster. “We’re getting on.”

“Oh God,” Peter grimaced, mumbling words of encouragement to himself as they got into the lift, which sent them to the highest point of the mountain, where the roller coaster’s journey would begin.

James joined in with the encouragement, loudly and mockingly, “YES, PETE! YOU CAN DO IT! MAMA WILL BE PROUD! REMEMBER, IT’S OKAY IF YOU PISS YOURSELF!”

Peter glared at him. “The mountain is literally as high as the highest height ravens and eagles and all sorts of stupid clever birds live! And the ride goes all over the place! I’m gonna die!”

Sirius snorted, “Stupid clever birds.”

“Yes.” Peter said decisively.

“For that, I think you need to get on,” Sirius gestured to the seats.

“Alright, I’m holding Remus’s hand,” Peter grabbed Remus and pulled him in next to him.

Sirius frowned, and James cackled. “Aw, jealous, are we?”

“No, I just really want to get to Remus.”

James grinned. “I have an idea.” They slid into the seats behind, but as soon as the ride began, instead of purely yelling, James began scream-singing, “OHHH I WISH IT COULD BE CHRISTMAS—”

“JAMES, IT’S NOT—” Sirius began.

“EVERY DAY!” James screamed into Sirius’s ear.

Sirius rolled his eyes, and joined in at full volume. “WHEN THE KIDS START SINGING AND THE BAND BEGINS TO PLAYYYY!”

“REMUS, JOIN THE FUCK IN!” James leaned forward, yelling into Remus’s ear.

Remus rolled his eyes, before muttering in a deadpan, “I wish it could be Christmas every day.” Apparently, this calmed Peter down, and they proceeded to both enjoy the ride serenely. Sirius was gobsmacked. So now Remus’s composure was contagious?!

Although James decided that screeching Christmas songs was the best way to go about surviving a roller coaster, so he carried on scream-singing, forcing Sirius to sing too. Sirius says forcing. But he wasn’t really forced.

This time, when the ride finished, he grabbed Remus’s hand, and raced to the Gringotts vaults. This ride was bound to break Remus. It involved a cart lurching and jouncing and zigzagging abruptly through a maze of endlessly twisting passages, dark and gloomy and musty. And decidedly not affecting Remus in the slightest.

Sirius felt himself go green in the face, and in an attempt to stop Remus falling asleep, he pointed a finger at the stalactites and stalagmites growing from the ceiling and floor around them. “Urgh… wha’s the differ…ugh?”

Remus mused thoughtfully, “Stalactites grow from the ceiling, and stalagmites from the ground. I find an easy way to remember this is that the ‘g’ in stalagmite stands for ground, and as stalactite doesn’t have a ‘g’, it doesn’t grow from the ground.”

Peter, who was somehow managing to hold onto his tranquillity, nodded agreeably, while James cut off his screaming to look at Remus attentively. “That’s actually clever,” he noted.

“WHAT?!” Sirius yelled. So now James had also caught Remus’s composure?

“Um,” he mumbled, stumbling off the cart once it stopped. “Next ride…”

James looked at him in amusement. “Need a break?”

“No!” Sirius denied vehemently. “Onwards!” He cried, marching toward the Shrieking Shack, the haunted house. Maybe he could scare Remus.

Although as soon as the ride began, they all burst out laughing. Since when were giant spiders with too-big eyes scary?! They were embarrassments, that’s what they were. Furry and awkward, with too many gangly limbs. And since when were clowns with too-long tongues, and ugly, lumpy trolls, and adorable old werewolves scary?! Even when the ride finished, none of them could stop laughing.

“That was awesome,” Remus said, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. And Sirius grinned, because part of his mission was to at least make Remus enjoy the rides.

He decided to find another supposedly ‘scary’ ride: how about the Slytherin dungeons? They clambered into a cart, which sent them hurtling speedily through a glowing green tunnel, the spooky sound of ghosts filling their ears. Sirius mockingly imitated the wails, which sent them into fits of laughter.

“I am the ghoOoOOohhhhst of SalazaRrrrRRr,” he drawled.

“I am the fOoooOOuUnderRRrr of this ride,” James added.

“And now I haAAauuUUnt it,” Peter continued.

“FOoOOOReVeRRr!” Remus finished, looking at them all like they were entirely composed of idiocy.

Sirius was so lost in grinning stupidly at Remus that he didn’t realise they’d entered the Giant Squid passage. The green glow faded into a darker, mossy green, as the slimy, rubber tentacles of the squid swept across their faces. Sirius screamed, and because they all laughed at him, he grabbed the dangling tentacles and flung them at his friends, who echoed his screams as they were doused in slime. He laughed triumphantly, and when Remus shot him the middle finger, he’d never felt more accomplished.

The ride ended as they were splashed with buckets of green-tinted water from the squid’s lake, washing away the tentacle slime and leaving them damp, but weirdly happy. He saluted Salazar as they walked away, trailing water in their wake. “Thank you, Salazar, founder of my soggy socks!”

They laughed, all running in the same direction, the Hufflepuff ferris wheel. Yes, it wasn’t fast, but it was warm, and would heat them up with the smoke machines attached to the wheel’s centre, which released sweet, candy-smelling wafts of steam at each open carriage.

However, the ferris wheel only consisted of two-seaters, which meant that for the duration of the ride, the inseparable, thick-as-thieves group of four would have to… split up. The thought was torturous. But then Sirius had an idea. He knew how to break Remus. And on the most easy-going ride as well.

He pulled Remus onto a carriage, while James and Peter took the next one, smirking and raising brows at him. Remus simply sat back contentedly, ready to close his eyes, but Sirius shook him, and began pointing at all the sights as they rose into the air.

“Look, the ice cream stall! Oh, those workers are still trying to fix our mess.” Sirius shook his head at them in disappointment.

Remus grinned, and Sirius’s stomach flipped, even though this ride was supposed to be the slowest. He pointed, “Gryffindor tower, where I ate the poisonous concoction you dumped on me.”

“Oi, I gave you your favourite!”

“Yeah,” Remus smiled, softer, and Sirius’s stomach flipped again, on the safest ride. “Thank you.”

They were reaching the top. “Look,” Sirius pointed at Remus’s face. “The prettiest face I’ve seen.”

Remus’s eyes widened. Sirius smirked and leaned forward. “I’m going to kiss you.” Remus didn’t move back. He almost didn’t move at all, except for the slight nod of his head. So at the highest point of the ferris wheel, Sirius closed the gap between their lips. It was just a short press, yet Remus looked like his heart had jumped out of his chest. In all honesty, so had Sirius’s.

He leaned back to catch his breath on the slowest ride of all time, and instead of sleeping, Remus was panicked, lively, on the verge of screaming. And Sirius whispered in Remus’s ear, “Scream with me?”

So on the slowest, safest, most relaxing ride in the world, Remus, who was normally relaxed on the fastest rides in the world, screamed his lungs out, and Sirius followed suit.

“AHHHHHHH!” All the way until the ride stopped.

“I think I just died,” Remus mumbled, collapsing into Sirius.

Although, like James said, it was impossible to break Remus without breaking first, and so Sirius was also dead. He brought his lips to Remus’s, and kissed him again. And they didn’t need to stop for air, because they were so, so dead. Although, eventually, they did have to stop, and Sirius assumed the kiss had revived each of them. Kisses did that.

“Alright, enough,” James said, clapping them on the back and pulling them apart.

Sirius frowned at him.

Peter grimaced. “We’ve been banned from the park.”

“For kissing?!” Sirius asked in outrage.

Remus rolled his eyes, and as they were forced to exit the gates, began listing every single rule they’d broken, “For running into other customers, for harassing workers, for eating on rides, for swearing in front of customers, for harassing customers…” He continued for at least ten minutes before Sirius decided to snog him into oblivion.

[bardinthezone]

okay my mind is reeling from the latest episode i'm going to fucking explode this is one of the best episodes... period

so cecil's dad... left when cecil was born. For what reason, it's hard to tell. The narrative certainly seems to be setting it up as a concious choice, framing him as an absent father rather than just a dead one. The line "It’s not incomprehensible that two living, physical people could haunt each other." makes me really think the Gershwin-Palmer relationship was not a healthy one in any way.

But either way, he left, and maybe he died after he left, or maybe he left because he died.

But he's gone, and it broke their mother. She mourned him, she was forever haunted by him, haunted by the him she saw in Cecil. It completely ruined any semblance of relationship she had with her kids. As Cecil tells us in 182 (It Sticks With You), "Our mother wouldn’t speak to us. She would just walk and walk, much faster than we could. I think she wanted to lose us in the shadowy labyrinth of tall trees. [...] we always found our mom. She was at the same old tree, leaving flowers at the base of its giant trunk. And we would hike home. I don’t remember who the flowers were for. Maybe she never said."

That's as plain as it gets. She abandoned them, consumed in her grief and her anger. And, as we learn in Ghost Stories, she never recovered.

There's also the oracle element, however. And the Mirrors. That's weird, right? The prophecy that Cecil would die, and it would involve a mirror? Is this real? Is this an element of her mental deterioration? I can't say for certain. I hope it's not, I don't want cecil to die by murder.

And the trees. God, the trees. The trees are fucking everywhere and this isn't necessarily an unanswered question, more of a thematic element I want to draw more attention to.

Cause we have all the drawings of trees in 245, and we have 182.

But then there's episode 132, "Bedtime Story."

And this is a DOOZY. This is a story Cecil's mother used to tell him (Not Abby?) meaning that:

there were times she did managed to be somewhat motherly, although perhaps this was influenced by her weird oracular relationship with him

she told him. A bedtime story. About a little boy who felt neglected by his family, so he went out and dug into the mud and turned into A TREE.

I just want you to really take that in. This little boy felt neglected by his family, so he turned into a tree and eventually grew to abandon his humanity to the point where he could no longer recognize or comprehend the passing of his own family.

"And then my mother would pat my head and say: "Good night, Cecil. Good night." Or so I imagined. By then, I was long asleep." Cecil's mom... probably didn't do that. But he imagined she did.

I've lost the spoons to write out a shitton of analysis but I haven't seen anyone bring up Bedtime Story in reference to ep 246 and I think they really should

Also something something "What would be worse than death? Living long enough to stop being a human" "Oh Cecil is... way older than he knows isn't he...."

[petrolstationflowers]

You've been all over - Lucky Palms, Strangetown, Neighborhood 1 - but have you ever headed for the bright lights of Vegas and the wasteland beyond? For those who are looking for a cheap place to live and employment that's open to anyone, the New Simfornia Republic Army might be the career for you! Based on Fallout: New Vegas' New California Republic Army faction, but with a Sims twist!

This is a branched career that splits at level five. You can choose to take the Combat or Political branch -- are you looking to become President of the New Simfornia Republic, or are you looking to be at the helm of the Rangers? The choice is yours. As always, you will need NRaas Careers for this to work!

Levels and other info under the cut!

For the initial five levels, there are a few custom tones:

Run Laps (builds Athletics), Maintain the Barracks (builds Handiness), and Tend Crops (builds Gardening).[/list]

For the Combat branch, we have:

Perform Weapons Drills (builds Athletics), Spar With Fellow Recruits (raises Martial Arts), and Write Reports (builds Writing).

The Political branch, on the other hand, has:

Prepare Talking Points (builds Charisma), Study (builds Logic), and Network With Other Politicians (builds Gambling). As this is a hidden skill that comes with Lucky Palms and the casino content, you will need that world downloaded for the skill to work correctly. Otherwise you may be able to alter this through MasterController.

I have made three opportunities that appear for Level 10 at both branches. These are to read a book, throw a party and invite a coworker, and attend a meeting. This is my first time making these so please let me know if you have any problems! There are also no carpools as thematically they wouldn't make sense1

Here are the levels and descriptions for the initial five before the branch:

[*]Wastelander - 10 simoleans p/h - M-F Description: New Simfornia is an okay place to live. Electricity runs for at least six hours a day, and the water supply is mostly clean. But there’s bills to pay and food to put on the table; scavenging pipes from the scrapyard and selling mutated wildflowers just doesn’t pay like it used to. The New Simfornia Republic Army is looking more appealing by the second… Recruit - 20 simoleans p/h - M-F Description: You’ve hiked your way out to the barracks and impressed the recruiters with your enthusiasm. Now it’s time to show them what you’re truly made of; mud, sweat, and dubious rations shipped from Strangetown. Hope you like green meatloaf and hard tack so solid you could use it as a weapon! Labourer - 25 simoleans p/h - M-F Description: Boot camp is over and done with, thank the Watcher. Now you’re stuck with menial labour; dull, but safe. You’ll spend your days planting crops, making flour, or putting together weapons on the factory line. Long hours for half decent pay, it’s not a bad life (unless you actually like scavving or fistfighting the creatures in the mine for food). Auxiliary - 30 simoleans p/h - M-F Description: An actual uniform, your own dog tags, and a waterproof pair of cowplant hide boots, it’s like every Snowflake Day come at once! At least now you’re inside most of the time, even if the most exciting thing you do is drop off letters from Sunset Valley and listen to gossip from Vegas. At least there’s free coffee. Private - 40 simoleans p/h - M-F Description: Your commanders have made a big deal about how they’re trusting you with patrols now, where you’re let loose with a basic weapon and have the tiniest bit of authority. Citizens might respect you and you’ll get to see the sights of Strangetown and Lucky Palms, but you know what they say; patrolling the Simoran almost makes you wish for…

Then for the combat branch levels:

[*]Captain - 70 simoleans p/h - M-F Description:You’ve spent your years slogging away as a cog in the machine and now the higher ups have finally recognised your efforts. You’re leading your own team, which can somewhat be like herding cats, but at least you get to go on more interesting missions now and have so say in the logistics. Even if those command meetings could have been an email. Major - 80 simoleans p/h - M-F Description:Your own office, specialised assignments, and the authority to get someone else to clean the bathrooms… the life of a major isn’t a bad one. But it does come with a price; you’ll be leading troops into battle and having to command the bigger outposts, which is a headache in itself. Solving squabbles over caravan routes and shipments of energy drinks, followed by a firefight at the New Simfornia border? All in a day’s work. Colonel - 200 simoleans p/h - M-F Description:You’ve moved somewhat away from petty disputes, but even if the pay is better, the responsibilities increase with it. You’re looking after entire regions and their platoons, making sure troops are dispatched to the right areas and civilian areas are kept safe (as much as they can be). Ranger - 500 simoleans p/h - Monday, Tuesday, Thursday Description:You’re finally the ranger with the big iron on their hip and hefty bounties to track down. You’re the one they call when the alien threat gets out of hand and the two-headed bears start rummaging through cabins on the Hidden Springs lakesides. You’ve got the chance to earn decent money on your own terms, provided the ghouls or yetis don’t take you out first. Chief - 750 simoleans p/h - Wednesday, Thursday, Friday Description:You’re out in the field less these days and spend more time dispatching the rangers under your command to get the jobs done. Still, you get a cut of the bounty that they bring back, and you don’t have to scramble through radioactive swamps to take out a target! It doesn’t get much better than that.

And the political branch levels:

Intern - 50 simoleans p/h - M-F Description:You’ve got a knack for bright ideas and saying the right things at the right time. This hasn’t gone unnoticed, and your superior has suggested working in the political branch of the New Simfornia Republic Army. At the moment it’s more running missives and making coffee of dubious quality, but everyone has to start somewhere! Law Maker - 75 simoleans p/h - M-F Description:After many, many years of dealing with the general public and your fellow squaddies, you’ve gained enough knowledge to know what needs to change – and spent plenty of time daydreaming how to do it. It might not be a seat of power, but determining which laws make it to the senate and writing detailed bills is a step in the right direction. Senator - 250 simoleans p/h - Tuesday, Wednesday, Friday Description:Finally, you’re where you deserve to be. Away from the dust and dirt of the Wasteland, your days involve a freshly cleaned suit and arguing with your fellow senators about the day’s agenda. Even if people don’t know you, they still have a healthy amount of respect for you (and maybe some fear). What you say, goes, and after all – you know best. Councillor - 500 simoleans p/h - Wednesday, Thursday, Friday Description:Unlimited power! … almost. You’re the one pulling the strings, whispering in the President’s ear and making sure they’re steered along the right track. You mostly work from the shadows now, only making appearances when needed, but your words are weighted like the finest Aqua Pura. Use them wisely. President - 1000 simoleans p/h - Wednesday, Thursday, Friday Description:The sky’s the limit; everything the light of the bomb touches is your kingdom. Whether New Simfornia flourishes or fails is entirely dependent on your whims. The army? Your personal bodyguards and playthings. The populace? Dolls to rearrange and position as you please. Watch out, Vegas; a new sheriff’s in town…

Translations: I've included the English Strings in the file; if anyone is talented enough to translate, I would be incredibly grateful, so please let me know in the comments!

With thanks: A huge thank you to all the kind people on MissyHissy's Discord server for helping me to test and troubleshoot, and to the person who requested this career and very kindly made the icon for me!

[seraphtrevs]

I'm going to go roll the rock away from Nacho's tomb in a minute to see if he's better yet, but before I do, I feel like talking about why we got Nacho Christ in the first place.

Both BrBa and BCS are heavily thematic. They have a point beyond things just happening. BrBa is about toxic masculinity and its life-destroying effects. Walt insists over and over that he turned to crime for the sake of his family, but in the final episode, he confesses to Skyler that he did it for himself. He “protected” and “provided” for his family not for their sake, but in order to feel powerful. That quest for power destroys Walt, his family, Jesse, and a shit-ton of other people, from the addicts he supplied with dangerous drugs to the people he killed (both on purpose and by accident).  Toxic masculinity, says Vince Gilligan, is bad.

So what is BCS trying to say? I don’t think the premise is as explicit as BrBa, partly because I’m pretty sure they didn’t start the series with this intention. But as they found their identity, it slowly started to take shape. BCS is about the folly of vengeance.

BCS 6x09 is in many ways the real finale of BCS—the end of Jimmy’s pre-Saul life. And just like BrBa made its premise explicit in its finale, BCS has the characters reference its theme directly, too. When Mike promises Manuel justice for Nacho, Manuel looks at him in disgust and tells him, “What you talk about is not justice. What you talk of is revenge.” The next scene finds Gus trying to make a human connection before realizing that his quest for revenge endangers anyone close to him, and he will lose them just like he lost Max. His life will always be empty of love and companionship. And Jimmy and Kim have lost each other, their lives and marriage torn apart, all because they wanted to get back at Howard. Revenge, says Peter Gould, is bad.

(courtesy cut for the tl;dr)

There were a lot of things that sent Jimmy down the slippery slope into becoming Saul, but two acts in particular turbo-charged his downfall. Even after Jimmy defeats Chuck’s attempt to kick him out of the law, he’s still angry. Humiliating Chuck at the hearing was a means to an end, but manipulating the insurance agent to hike HHM’s rates was pure vengeance, done solely to hurt Chuck. That action indirectly leads not only to Chuck’s suicide, but also to their final conversation when Chuck advises him to let go of his guilt and accept that he’s a bad person deep down inside and will never be anything else.

Jimmy’s big second act of vengeance is against Howard, which ends with him losing the love of his life. And once Kim leaves, Jimmy embraces the worst parts of himself, which leads to him enabling Walt’s reign of terror. Revenge has poisoned his life.

Mike’s story also illustrates the anti-vengeance theme. Before the show even begins, Mike had taken his revenge by murdering his sons’ killers. It made him feel better temporarily, but ultimately it did not give him peace. Instead, he chases more vengeance, against Hector this time, which ultimately leads to his downfall.

Even Chuck’s story ties in with revenge. Chuck wanted to punish Jimmy—for stealing from their parents, but also for being more loved than him (in his warped perception). This obsession with taking down Jimmy leads to his disgrace and death.

So what does this have to do with Nacho Christ? A lot, because Christ symbolism is often used around themes of forgiveness—the opposite of revenge. But BCS has a more nuanced point of view than turn the other cheek. BCS’s Christ figure dies cursing the people who wronged him. Clearly the point isn’t that Nacho should have forgiven Gus, or Gus should have forgiven Hector, or Mike should have forgiven his son’s murderers.

Instead, BCS says the alternative to revenge is to forgive yourself. But forgiving yourself is not an easy action, because to truly be at peace, you have to make amends where you can. Nacho’s crimes put his father’s life in danger. He made amends by sacrificing his life to save his father. Jimmy makes amends by publicly admitting to his lies and telling the truth at last, which leads to the loss of his freedom.

An important point is that neither Jimmy nor Nacho made their sacrifices just to punish themselves. Self-punishment does not lead to forgiveness, although the price of truly being able to forgive yourself is sometimes steep.

Nacho was backed into a corner. He could have instead gone down the path of revenge by letting Gus kill his dad and then swearing vengeance on Gus. But that would have been pointless and not given him any relief from his guilt. Instead, he chose to sacrifice his life in order to get his dad out of the danger his action put him in. Nacho’s death wasn’t a punishment—it was just the natural outcome of the action he had to take to make amends.

Likewise, Jimmy going to prison wasn’t the point. In order to be an honest person, Jimmy had to start telling the truth, not just to himself but to the rest of the world. A consequence of telling that truth was prison time.

The show goes out of its way to demonstrate that point with Kim’s story. Her Floridian exile is a punishment she concocted for herself, thinking that suffering would make her feel less guilty. But it doesn’t. Inflicting pain on herself does nothing to make up for what she did to Howard.

In order to forgive herself, Kim must make amends. What does finally help is confessing to Cheryl in order to help restore Howard’s reputation. The consequence of her confession is that she’s put herself in legal jeopardy, but that isn’t the point. The point is she's doing what she can to make up for her actions, which allows her space to forgive herself.

At the same time, self-forgiveness doesn’t always involve a high cost. Mike’s path to self-forgiveness was to be a supportive presence in Kaylee and Stacey's lives—to take on the role Matty would have played if he had lived. He didn't need to buy them a house with dirty money. He just needed to be there. But ultimately, facing his demons and taking on the hard work of processing his grief was too painful for Mike. Instead, he took refuge in revenge and became even more lost.

So that's why we needed Nacho Christ. He is the negation of the cycle of vengeance.

[enigmaticexplorer]

I Yearn, and so I Fear - Chapter XIX

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

General Summary. Nearly a year since the Galactic Empire’s rise to power, Kazi Ennari is trying to survive. But her routine is interrupted—and life upended—when she’s forced to cohabitate with former Imperial soldiers. Clone soldiers. 

Pairing. Commander Wolffe x female!OC

General Warnings. Canon-typical violence and assault, familial struggles, terminal disease, bigotry, explicit sexual content, death. This story deals with heavy content. If you’re easily triggered, please do not read. For a more comprehensive list of tags, click here.

Fic Rating. E (explicit)/18+/Minors DNI.

Chapter Word Count. 5.8K

19 Relona

Each morning started with a kiss. 

Some mornings—when Kazi saw Wolffe for the first time in the kitchen—the kisses were chaste. A soft peck to her cheek or temple.

Other mornings—when she joined Wolffe on his runs, or he joined her swims—the kisses were…more.

The gray of nautical twilight, and the silence of the quiescent jungle, offered them privacy.

Her back pressed to an elder tree as Wolffe mouthed on her neck. Held her face in his hands. Ran his palms beneath her shirt and touched her skin, his thumbs caressing the underside of her breasts. 

Wolffe was a haven, his body aligned to hers as she sought him. Skimmed her hands along the planes of his back, traced the tattoos of his left arm, licked his neck and kissed behind his ear. He held her so tightly she thought he’d never let her go. 

Intentionality dominated their friendship.

Evenings were spent as a group, the men’s rescue missions rarer since the Senate’s clone-decommissioning bill: board games, lake swims, starry hikes, holofilms Neyti picked. 

Kazi taught Cody her favorite Ceaian recipes, and he lent her his favorite book: techniques of the galaxy’s most famous painters. Some mornings, when she didn’t work, he explained his own paintings—the thematic coloring and symbolic styles and the reasons for certain brush strokes. It gave her an opportunity to understand Neyti better. 

Some nights, Kazi listened to Nova’s studies on war-related trauma, its effect on survivor’s guilt, recent advancements in cognitive behavioral therapy. She, in turn, helped him with his quilt. (Her stitches lacked his precision but he didn’t mind, even if she did catch him smothering a smile when she called it quits, most times, after half an hour.)

Fox was teaching her how to wood carve. However, and much to his amusement, she was abysmal. Most times, while Kazi tried to mimic his hand placement and the movement of the knife, Neyti joined them, feigning interest in Kazi’s carving. The little girl’s true motivation was obvious, though: Neyti liked to listen to Fox’s stories. 

The stories were war-based. Daring rescue missions. Intense battles. Developed comradery. Heart-breaking sacrifice. Some of the stories Kazi recognized; others were new. She was no less enthralled than Neyti.  

“I read up on every battle. Every mission,” Fox told her one night. “I had to. It was part of my job.” He gazed out the windows, took in the starlit sky. She could imagine him doing the same on Coruscant. Watching the sky. Waiting. “And I kept tabs on my brothers—made sure they were still alive. It made some days easier.”

Only after Kazi read Neyti to sleep would she and Wolffe spend time together. Alone. 

They laid a blanket outside and watched the moons rise; they went for late-night walks along the jungle’s paths; they enjoyed dessert on the back porch, illuminated by lightning bugs and a lantern; they swam in the lake, admiring the bioluminescent flora that lit the lake’s depths. 

They shared stories about their childhood, and she listened to Wolffe describe his missions throughout the war, and he listened to her sailing adventures and the caves she frequented. 

Similar to their mornings, though, they reverted to debates. Politics, historical recounts, scientific advancements, philosophical theories Kazi had no business arguing in favor of or against. 

Sometimes, at the bottom of the staircase, the hour late, they couldn’t part ways. 

“Without a central authority,” Kazi argued, “there’s risk of chaos and general inability to address large-scale problems.”

“You’re assuming the central authority would address those problems.” Wolffe rolled his eyes. “Central authorities prioritize their own interests. They don’t give a shit about the people.”

“The Jedi cared.”

“The Jedi were confined by the Senate’s decisions. And their political power was minimal. Nonexistent by the end.”

“If the Jedi had been a true central authority, would your opinion be different?”

“I…would’ve put my trust in them.” He squared his shoulders. “But only them.”

While Wolffe was intentional with their time, he was also intentional in giving Kazi space. 

On her off days, she and Daria and Neyti wandered around Hollow’s Town, neighboring towns, or the capital: toured museums, attended orchestral concerts, perused Eluca’s historical sites. 

Meanwhile, Wolffe and his brothers lived their own lives: visits to the local theater, flights to Eluca’s less-inhabited neighboring planets, outdoor recreation, cantina hopping, meetings with other deserted troopers offplanet. They even lent a hand on Fehr’s farm, on the occasion. 

Wolffe was easy to be with, a constant presence Kazi found solace in.

There was a balance, and her walls—those damn walls she relied on for so, so long—were weakening. Like, after so many years, they had reached their breaking point.

She was…happy.

And in the middle of the night, when she lay alone in her bed and couldn’t stop herself from overanalyzing, that cold voice whispered in her ear, You don’t deserve this.

(She knew this, of course.)

Remember what you did to Papa? it demanded.

(It had haunted her for seventeen years; she had never forgotten.)

But it was easier to ignore the voice, to avoid its insistent lull, when she awoke each morning to a kiss.

Four new dragon carvings stalked the shelves of the white bookcase. Varying in size and color, they seemed to eye Kazi as she descended the staircase.

The dragons were Neyti’s idea. An unspoken request one night before bed, the little girl’s own carving snuggled in her arms.

So, one afternoon, Kazi, Neyti, and Daria visited the Marketplace, tracking down a carver who studied Neyti and Daria’s drawings, offered his recommendations, and then spent three weeks creating the figurines. 

The blue-gray dragon, its spikes sharp though its face was soft, prowled alongside Kazi’s. Neyti tended to play with the dragons and reposition them, waiting for one of the adults to notice. Her toothy grin whenever she was caught never failed to make Kazi chuckle.

Smiling at the thought, Kazi reached the final step, rounding the corner. 

The smell of baking bread, spiced fruit, and something else, familiar yet unidentifiable, wafted through the air. She frowned at the scent. It tugged on a memory, like a hand reaching through the fibers of time and space, and yet she couldn’t place—

Kazi staggered to a halt. 

At the stove, Wolffe was frowning at his datapad, a spatula in his hand. A plate of well-baked cakes—their dough cooked to a light brown—rested on the counter. Nearby, a pot of carmine sauce simmered. 

Sea-cakes.

Wolffe had prepared her favorite meal. One of her mother’s recipes. A staple from weekends with her family when they would gorge themselves before spending the entirety of the day at the beach.

The last time her mother had made sea-cakes, she was fourteen, and she refused. Her mother’s hurt expression—green eyes dull and mouth pinched—sometimes haunted her nightmares.

Shoving aside the memory, Kazi blinked at Wolffe. Apathy kept his expression even as he scrutinized her.

“You made breakfast,” Kazi said. Even to her ears her voice sounded unnatural. Too high. Forcibly cheerful. 

Wolffe considered her for a quiet moment. “I did.”

Grimacing, she stepped closer to the kitchen bar. Pink flower petals, frail and faint, splotched the metal bar, and she grabbed one, rolling it between her fingers. 

The dead petals belonged to the dying bouquet she’d given Wolffe two weeks ago, one of many the last month. (She secretly liked the way he studied each bouquet, his touches gentle and smile soft.) Typically, Wolffe kept the bouquets in the basement—to brighten the atmosphere. However, Neyti had loved the white-flecked petals so much that he kept this bouquet upstairs. 

Now it was dead. Littering the kitchen. She should’ve realized it yesterday, or the day before, and thrown the bouquet out and bought a new one. Fuck.

Kazi smiled. “I’m sure your brothers will appreciate it.”

Wolffe cocked his head to the side. “This is for us.”

“Oh.” 

“They can’t be overcooked,” Wolffe said, hesitantly. Setting aside his spatula, he assessed the stack of cakes. “I followed the recipe.”

“They’re not overcooked,” Kazi murmured. “They’re perfect.”

He frowned at her. “Then what’s the problem?”

“It’s just…” She smiled apologetically. “I didn’t ask you to make me breakfast.” 

Disbelief furrowed his brows and she winced, picking at another fallen petal. 

Why hadn’t she thought about making him breakfast? 

Why hadn’t she done anything nice for him? 

Even her sister was more thoughtful: Daria had bought him a 1500-piece Venator-class Star Destroyer puzzle last week. A quarter of it sat completed on the game table in the sunroom.

Self-hatred stung the back of her throat, and Kazi swallowed it.

This was a mistake. She was.

Wolffe was good and kind and considerate, and, for him, she would never be— 

“I make breakfast for Neyti and myself.” Rubbing at the tightness in her chest, Kazi gestured to the sea-cakes. “You didn’t have to do this.”

Wolffe blinked at her. Slowly. “You’re upset…that I made breakfast?” 

“I’m not upset—”

He scoffed and she grew rigid. Frustration lined his shoulders, and she balled her fists behind her back, hating herself for overreacting. For being so ungrateful. For not being competent.

“There was no need to make breakfast,” she repeated. “I can do it on my own.”

“I’m well aware,” Wolffe said. Exasperation hardened his scowl. “It’s breakfast, Ennari. Not a marriage proposal. Stop overthinking it.”

Kazi flinched. 

A year after her father’s death, she hiked to a cave near her family’s house. Inside, cold water bathed the walls and ceiling, trickling onto her shoulders, her head, steadily numbing her body. All the way to her bones. Seated in the cave’s mouth, she watched as the skies darkened and the waves worsened. She knew she needed to leave. To abandon the cave before she was entrapped, sure to drown. But she couldn’t. 

The numbing felt so good—to scour her of her instructors’ criticisms, her mother’s disapproving sniffs, Daria’s distance.

Most juveniles escaped the pressures and stresses and anxieties of youth through other outlets. Kazi found her escape in that cave. In its bone-wearying chill and the sinister tug of the waves.

Now, she wished she could run away from this conversation for that cave. Because she couldn’t bear the weight of Wolffe’s disappointment, the fucking pity narrowing his eyes.

He’d made her breakfast, and it was thoughtful and sweet, and she didn’t deserve it. 

She was selfish and uncaring. She was self-centered and greedy. She couldn’t give him what he deserved, and she was so fucking imperfect, it wasn’t fair to him.

“I didn’t ask for this,” Kazi said. 

Working his jaw, Wolffe stalked toward her, and softly, lethally, he demanded, “Why can’t I make you breakfast?”

“I’ve never made you breakfast.” Her fingernails dug into her palms, harshly enough she thought they might draw blood. She released a humorless laugh. “I’ve never done this for you.”

“I know.” Wolffe scanned her face. “You’re gonna have to explain the problem, Ennari. ‘Cause I’m not following.”

Forcing her fists to unclench, Kazi closed her eyes. Sucked in a breath. Opened her eyes and levelled Wolffe with an impassive look. “I’m overreacting. I’m sorry—”

“Explain it to me.”

“It doesn’t matter. I overreacted.”

Wolffe sighed. “I deserve to know—”

“Don’t make me breakfast, Wolffe. I don’t want you interfering in my life.” 

His tongue ran along his teeth, and Kazi didn’t sway beneath his annoyance. Good, she thought. Let him be annoyed with her—let him realize how difficult she was to be with. It was better for him to recognize her imperfections and to abandon her now. She wasn’t sure she would be strong enough to bear the inevitable—

“You’re pushing me away.” Shaking his head, Wolffe stared at her, aggravated. Incredulous. “You’re trying to push me away, Ennari.”

Kazi opened her mouth but the usual—snapped defenses, drawled irritations, insouciant responses—failed her. Instead, honesty demanded an audience, and she couldn’t bite it back fast enough.  

“I feel guilty because I’ve never made breakfast for you.” Wincing at the weakness in the admittance, she shrugged, steeling herself. Let him know how heartless she was; let him peer inside, just a peek, and see the rottenness. “I didn’t even think about doing it.”

“It’s just breakfast,” Wolffe growled. Bracing his hands against the bar, on opposite sides of her body, caging her in. “I wanted to make it. So I did.”

Familiar fears caressed her mind, and their touches were so lovely she wanted to cave to their invitation. An urge to run quickened her heartbeat.

However, there was a softer touch, that patient glow, its golden warmth keeping the rottenness at bay. A chance, it seemed to whisper. One chance, please.

“You don’t get to have a problem with this,” Wolffe said firmly.

Challenge, overt and arrogant, smoothed his tone. Indignant, she quirked an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

Mismatched eyes remained on hers; Wolffe pressed even closer, his chest firm against hers. “You heard me.”

“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do.”

“You don’t get to have a problem with this,” he snarled softly. Muscles flexed along his forearms. “I did this because I wanted to. Get over it.”

“I don’t need you to make me breakfast—”   

“Daria said these are best served warm.” He cocked his head to the side. “You wanna keep arguing? Or can we eat?”

For a pent breath, Kazi surveyed Wolffe, debated the merits in continuing. But the seriousness hardening his countenance, the contemplative flit of his eyes across her face, told her enough—he had multiple strategies prepared and he wouldn’t back down until he was satisfied with the outcome.

Sighing, Kazi shifted her attention to the stack of sea-cakes. Stellaburst sauce, bubbling and creamy, drizzled the cakes’ sides, pooling on the plates. As if a dragon had heated the sauce with its fire. 

“I hope you prepared them right,” she said, a finger grazing the curve of his thumb. A gentle brush. “They can poison you, if not cooked properly.”

Straightening, Wolffe eyed the cakes. “I followed the recipe—”

“Kidding.” A tired smile warmed her cheeks, and the corner of his mouth lifted in response. Grazing his hand once more, letting her eyes drift across his face before settling on his, Kazi murmured, “I’m sorry. I just…” She wrapped her arms around her stomach. “I don’t want to disappoint you.”

“You haven’t,” he murmured back, his thumb brushing her finger. 

With the truth laid bare, Kazi stepped to the stove, his arm falling away, and grabbed one of the plates. An unopened jar of nutow powder—Wolffe had thought through every detail—awaited use. She powdered the sea-cakes until they resembled Ceaia’s snow-dusted mountains in the summer. 

Seated at the kitchen bar, fork in hand, Kazi sectioned a piece. She took a small bite.

The tartness of the berry popped in her mouth. She chewed, the bitterness of the seaweed flour fading to the nutow’s sweet flavor. 

Memories returned.

Her father dancing in the kitchen, singing offkey while he prepared the sea-cake batter. 

She and Daria accidentally spilling half the batter on the floor, their parents laughing at their bashful grins. 

Mornings as a family sitting on their deck, overlooking the ocean beyond. 

Kazi swallowed her bite and twisted in her seat. Wolffe was chewing a large piece, his brows furrowed, his features contemplative. He bit down once more, glanced in her direction, and then pressed a napkin to his mouth. He spat out his piece.

Her mouth fell open. “Why would you do that?”

“That’s disgusting.” He took a long sip from his steaming caf, swishing it around in his mouth. “Fucking awful.”

Quietly laughing, Kazi popped another piece into her mouth. “It’s an acquired taste.”

“No kidding.” Guzzling his caf, Wolffe slid the rest of his sea-cakes in her direction. 

“There’s leftover quiche in the freezer,” she offered. 

A ghost of a smirk curved his mouth and he gripped her jaw, gently, carefully, angling her head back for him. He kissed her, his hand caressing her neck, his thumb tracing her jawline. And then he pulled away, retrieving the quiche.

As pale sunlight dappled the kitchen and they both finished their breakfast, Kazi rested her cheek against Wolffe’s shoulder, pressing a kiss to his bicep. To the nape of his neck. 

“Thank you,” she said, hoping he could hear the sincerity in her voice. “You…mean a lot to me.”

Wolffe rested his hand on her thigh and squeezed.

Late evening sunshine, streams of weak gold flitting through the gray clouds, enveloped the sunroom. A cool front had moved in. Tolerable enough Kazi had opened the windows to enjoy the breeze and its scent of rain and soil while she knitted a maroon sweater.

Outside, Daria and Cody sat on the wraparound porch, the former embroidering new curtains for Neyti’s room while the latter concentrated on a painting: cascading waterfalls, domed buildings, lanterns in the night sky. 

Beyond the porch, in the ferny clearing, Fox and Nova oversaw a sparring match. Two of the three clones Cody and Nova retrieved on their mission two days ago participated. One of them, according to Wolffe, had worked under Fox throughout the War—a man named Hound. The unruliness of his hair and the vivid bite mark on his jaw belied his kind personality. He’d offered Kazi tips on her attempts at wood carving, last night. 

Apparently, Hound was the reason Fox started carving. (Fox took up the hobby after one of Hound’s mastiffs passed. Hound had showed her the carving: The figurine fit inside her palm, its markings coarse and primitive. Still better than her attempts, though.)

Hound’s sparring partner, Matches, was a demolitions expert, and an expert at crude jokes. Many of which he shared last night at dinner. Wolffe’s silent glares to shut the fuck up went unnoticed, and it required Hound’s intervention before Matches quieted. 

The damage was done, though. Neyti spent the rest of dinner wide-eyed. 

Kazi searched the grounds for the third clone, Court. His lacking presence was unsurprising. Dinner passed without him speaking, he merely observed them, and he also disregarded the invite to watch a holofilm. Kazi respected his reticence. 

However, when she started for bed, she found him bent over the bookcase, surveying the dragons. He must have heard her approach because his eyes slid in her direction. They were empty. Similar to Wolffe’s when she first met him. Unlike Wolffe, though, his eyes were cold. Lifeless.

A chill slithered down her spine but Kazi shook it off, schooling her features, as the back door swung open. Neyti bounced into the room. Her grin was bright, energetic. 

“How are your seeds?” Kazi asked, brushing a strand of hair from Neyti’s forehead. Her grin widened and Neyti gave her a thumbs up.

“They’ve sprouted.” Shutting the back door, Wolffe nodded at Neyti. “Give it another month and they’ll be adolescents.”

Neyti clapped her hands, twirling in a circle, her blue dress floating. Wiping a smudge of dirt from her chin, Kazi shared an amused look with Wolffe.

“Why don’t you go wash your hands,” Kazi said. Neyti shucked off the pink gloves Nova had bought her, handing them to Wolffe. “I’ll get you a snack, once you clean up.”

While Neyti bounded for the staircase, Kazi stood, appraising Wolffe. He was pocketing Neyti’s gloves, his white shirt clinging to his skin. Damp with sweat. Sleeves rolled to his elbows.

“I’m helping Daria replace some stakes in her garden later tonight,” she said, approaching him. He slid his hands into his pockets, waiting. “Are you fine delaying our walk?”

A small smirk tugged on his mouth. “I should be asking you that question.” She frowned and his smirk widened. He played with a piece of her hair. “I’m replacing the stakes.”

Kazi shook her head. “Daria and I planned this—”  

“And she agreed to me replacing you.” Wolffe chuckled at her affronted scowl. “We have things to discuss.”

“What do you have to discuss with my sister?”

“That’s classified.” 

The smugness in his tone grated on her, and she scoffed. “That’s bullshit. My sister wouldn’t ditch me for you. Sorry.”

“It looks like you two have some catching up to do.” He glanced at his wrist-chrono. “I’ve got to shower.” A swift kiss to her cheek and then his lips were warming her ear, soft and tickling. His tone was low as he murmured, “Just so you’re aware: You can join me”—a hand skimmed her lower back; her head angled slightly, just enough for him—“whenever you want.”

Heat lingered in her cheeks, behind her ear, as she watched Wolffe stride away. Watched the bookcase lock him in the basement. Knew, if it were nighttime and they had the privacy of an empty house, she would have followed him. 

Instead, she moved into the living area and looked upwards, to Neyti’s open door.

What was that kid doing?

Shaking her head, Kazi made her way upstairs, planning to check on Neyti. But, on the top step, she paused. Her bedroom door was open. More like cracked open. Still, it was unusual. She always closed her door whenever she left.

Wariness pricked the back of her neck and she peeked into her bedroom. 

Her curtains were tied back; her windows were open; her quilt was smoothed and pillows fluffed. It appeared undisturbed. 

Her gaze shifted to her desk where her datapad rested. The device was dark, blank, exactly as she had left it that morning after analyzing the men’s gathered intel for the network. 

Except, on closer inspection, it wasn’t exactly as she had left it. She always lined the ‘pad’s side along the wall and the bottom to the desk’s edge. 

The ‘pad had moved. Someone unfamiliar with its placement wouldn’t have noticed it. But its slight upward position, not even a centimeter from being flushed with the bottom of her desk, told her it had moved.

Tugging on a braid, she retreated from her bedroom and closed her door. Outside Neyti’s room, she knocked on the doorjamb.

“Hey, you ready for your sna—” The words faltered, and Kazi straightened, blinking at the book in Neyti’s hands. The little girl waved at her. “Is that…my adventure book?”

Neyti nodded. She flipped a page of the book.

“Did you take that from my room?” Another nod and Kazi chuckled her incredulity, perching on the edge of Neyti’s bed. Looked like she had her culprit. “You know, it’s not nice to break into other people’s rooms.”

Confusion wrinkled Neyti’s face.

“It’s also not nice to take someone’s personal belongings.” She bopped Neyti on the nose, and the little girl tucked her head in her shoulder, her smile sheepish. “If you wanted to look at it, you could’ve asked.”

Blushing, Neyti returned her attention to the book. Kazi considered joining her, looking through the old pictures, telling Neyti stories.

But the thought of reliving her memories—seeing Ceaia, seeing her parents, seeing her and Daria as younglings when everything was right in the galaxy—was too…daunting. Or maybe she was a coward. 

Wiping her hands down her thighs, Kazi took in Neyti’s room. Paintings Wolffe and Cody had hung on her walls. A bioluminescent rock and a black bird carving guarding her nightstand. A forest green dragon, its spiked tail curled, resting on her pillow.  

A tap on her arm brought her back to the adventure book. Neyti gestured to a page. 

Pressing her hands between her thighs, Kazi forced herself to look. 

Dark, faded photos grinned at her. 

A shot of her on the railing, feet dangling over frothing waves.

A shot of the endless, irascible blackness of the ocean. 

A shot of the stars taken from the middle of the sea. 

Scripted words crammed the remaining surface. Her mother’s comments of each photo.

Neyti was tracing the stars, a clear photo preserving Ceaia’s night sky, seemingly searching for something.

“Are you…looking for constellations?” Kazi asked. Neyti perked up, and she smiled, scanning the image. “All right: Let’s start with Goch.” 

Shifting the book onto her thigh, she pointed to a star so bright it appeared white.

“On Ceaia, it’s dangerous to sail at night,” Kazi said. “Storms form randomly, and they’re brutal. It takes a special skillset, and courage, to brave the ocean without sunlight. But our people learned a trick long ago.”

Curiosity twinkled in Neyti’s eyes.

“Goch was the first dragon to befriend our people,” Kazi said. “She lived three hundred years, and when she died, her spirit joined her ancestors.” She tapped the star. “This is her nose and this trail of stars”—her finger curled along the photo—“is her spine, ending with the tip of her tail. Goch’s nose always points to true north, while her tail ends in the west. Whenever you’re lost at sea, all you have to do is find Goch’s constellation and reorient yourself.”

Kazi waited as Neyti followed her path. Her tiny finger fluttered from bright star to bright star, and once she traced Goch’s constellation three times, she nodded her satisfaction. 

“We have other constellations that help orient sailors,” Kazi explained, shuffling through the pages until she found a different photo. “The Old Dragon represents the path south toward the islands. That’s for religious pilgrimage. Panto flies in the east sky. The tips of her wings lead to the eastern continent’s capital—where you lived.” She flipped another page. “Other constellations memorialize popular myths. The Dancing Dragons are my favorite.”

Nose scrunching, Neyti frowned.

“You’ve never heard about the Dancing Dragons?” Kazi asked.

The little girl shook her head.

So Kazi told Neyti the love story of the two dragons. How the female grew so lonely she stopped flying. How the male invited her to dance but she refused. How, one night, the female took a risk and joined the male and they flew together for years until they both passed.

“They were reunited afterwards,” Kazi finished. “And they continue their dance each night.” Smiling, she nudged Neyti’s arm. “Some people think they guide our souls to the afterlife. That’s why we write our loved ones letters when they pass—to formally ask the dragons for safe passage.”

Reverently, Neyti traced the dragons’ outlines. Gray eyes, as stormy as the skies outside yet as clear as a cloudless day, met hers. 

“I want to fly to the stars.”

Soft, and quiet, the words were like a breeze, whispering through a daisy-freckled meadow. 

Kazi stared at Neyti. 

Outside, the amassing clouds seemed to pause, holding their breath. 

“I want to fly,” Neyti repeated. Innocent determination set her jaw. “Please.”

“You want to fly?” Kazi said hoarsely. A single nod answered and she scratched the back of her head, nonplussed. “I don’t have a ship.”

Hours later, Kazi found herself in the men’s ship. 

Power low to avoid Imperial detection, the ship drifted between Eluca and its largest moon—Selene. Beyond the front viewports, a vast expanse of black, impenetrable and vacuous, extended. Similar to moonless nights at sea, and yet this abyss of silence disquieted her.

Standing in the tight hallway separating the cockpit from the rest of the ship, Kazi watched Neyti. The little girl sat in the pilot’s seat, listening to Wolffe and Fox explain the basic functions of each button on the control panel. Tiny hands scoured the panels and gears. A grin dimpled her face.

Behind Kazi, Cody was showing Daria the shoddy sleeping area. Her sister’s indignation resulted in an amused Cody leaning against the wall, his half-smile fond.

“If you had told me your sheets were this thin,” Daria scolded, wrinkling her nose at the blanket on one of the beds, “I would have made all of you new ones.” 

“First Nova,” Cody murmured, exasperated, “and now you.”

“It’s no wonder you like my bed so much.”

Cody chuckled. “That among other things.”

Rolling her eyes, Kazi cleared her throat, loudly, and then gazed out the viewport. Eluca, a dark green mass surrounded by writhing electric clouds, glowed like a kyber crystal, the dark vacuum of space its cave of hidden wonders. 

Space once fascinated Kazi. The myths of dragons soaring between planets awed her younger self, studies of burning supernovas and starving black holes piqued her interest; the galaxy seemed a wilderness to be discovered, the next step for a little girl who considered herself an ocean explorer. 

The escape from Ceaia changed her opinion.

A tight-spaced cargo pit.

Unfamiliar people crammed against her.

Impenetrable darkness.

A haunting stench—human waste, rotting corpses.

No food. No water. No ‘freshers.

She was pressed against a wall, Neyti crying in her lap, Daria trembling at her side. For a long time, she thought they might suffocate to death. 

Gritting her teeth, Kazi reassessed her surroundings. Metal walls loomed above and around, and they seemed…closer. The walls opposite pressed inwards. Against her.

A drop of sweat chilled her spine.

Her hands started to tremble.

Maybe she should’ve stayed behind with Nova. 

Focusing on the electric storm—flickers of purple lightning winked at her—Kazi rested her forehead against the small viewport, ignoring the erratic beat of her heart. The viewport cooled some of the uncomfortable heat burning beneath her skin—

A hand landed on her shoulder. She recoiled.

Wolffe peered into her face: narrowed eyes, bunched brows. Straightening, Kazi folded her arms across her stomach, smiling.

“When all you know is living on a planet,” she said, gesturing to the small ‘port, “it’s easy to forget we live in a galaxy with billions of other beings. There’s a lot out there.”

A thoughtful noise hummed in the back of his throat as Wolffe studied her. “You don’t like it.”

“I do—”

“You don’t.” Resting a forearm against the wall, he leaned into it. A casual, effortless stance. “I don’t like it either.”

Her eyebrows raised. “Really?”

With a casual shrug, he looked out the ‘port. “Lots of my men thought space provided a new opportunity. For me: Space meant war and more deaths. We were always vulnerable up here.” His voice pitched low, and his gaze grew distant. “When I’d swim, I’d pretend I was elsewhere. That I was someone else… I convinced myself I was more than just a number. And that there was something else out there for me.”

An image of little Wolffe, swimming amid a raging sea while dreaming a life for his future self, made her heart cave. They could have been friends, little Wolffe and little Kazi. Both wanting things they never thought they could have.

Kazi reached a hand to his jaw, her thumb grazing his cheekbone. His eyelids lowered, thick, dark lashes framing his eyes. 

“You’re more than just a number,” she said softly. “I hope you know that.”

“Yeah,” he murmured. “I know.”

A knuckle skimmed her cheek, and she turned into his palm. 

“You can’t control the ocean,” Wolffe said after a moment.

“No.” Dropping her hand to her side, Kazi sighed. “But I can control certain things.”

“Is that why you reacted this morning?” Tentatively, he tugged on the end of a braid, pocketing the tie. He started to unweave the strands, and she didn’t bother to stop him. “Did you feel out of control?”

Discomfort hunched her shoulders, and she massaged the left plane of her chest. The character analysis he’d built on her the last few months proved his adeptness. Impressive, really, considering how well she’d hid herself from others for years.

“You surprised me,” Kazi said quietly. His fingers were deft, careful as he worked on loosening her braid, and while he was distracted, she ran a finger along his forearm, his tattoos tiny paths for her to follow. “I’m so used to doing everything on my own. And then you making me breakfast—it made me feel…incompetent.”

A thoughtful noise rumbled in the back of his throat. Moving to her opposite braid, Wolffe pocketed its tie, and slowly undid its plait. Once he finished, he pushed her hair over her shoulder, the waves cascading down her spine.

“I want to feel needed.” The statement was quiet, gruff and low, and so fucking random it caught Kazi off guard.

She frowned. “What?”

“I want to feel needed.” Wolffe tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, his gaze settling on hers, determined. Unflappable. “I want to make you breakfast. I want to do things for you. Without you biting my head off. Or trying to push me away.”

“I didn’t bite your head off,” she muttered. The disbelief in his scoff was overt, and she pursed her lips. “You interrupted my routine and I wasn’t prepared.”

“That’s not it, Ennari,” Wolffe murmured. Challenge, similar to this morning, hardened his tone as he regarded her, only a few centimeters separating their faces. “You’re afraid of something. I don’t know of what. But one of these days I’m going to figure it out.”

The promise in his words was brutal, an unapologetic warning. Based on his dogged concentration—based on his meticulous need to understand the inner workings of each problem he encountered—Kazi didn’t doubt his dedication to his task. Or his single-minded determination. However—

“I’m not a problem to be fixed,” she snapped. Wolffe blinked his surprise, and she lifted her chin, glaring. “I’m a person, not a—a droid that’s malfunctioning.” It was important he understood this. That he knew what he was getting into.

“I know,” Wolffe said hastily. And even though he retained his casual stance, still leaned into his arm, tension stiffened his posture, ticked in his jaw. “But, Kazi,” he murmured her name lowly, exasperatedly, “you are afraid of something. And I wanna know what it is. Doesn’t mean I think there’s something wrong with you.”

For a prolonged moment, Kazi let her eyes wander across his face, confirmed the sincerity in the slight bow of his head, and then she swallowed, relaxing. The tension within Wolffe faded, too. 

“All right. Let’s summarize.” Pushing off the wall, he tapped the underside of her chin. “I’m not going to stop doing things for you. And you’re gonna be good with it.”

Hesitantly, she nodded her acquiescence. 

A giggle drew their attention to the cockpit. Neyti pointed to a button and glanced at Fox, expectant. Fox nodded his approval and the little girl adjusted in her seat, studying the dashboard as Fox listed another knob. 

“You might have to take her flying,” Kazi said.

Wolffe smiled smally. “We can do that.”

Her own smile blossomed in response, and she gestured toward the cockpit. “Go sit with them so I can take a photo.” Wolffe coughed, and she blinked innocently. “It’s for Neyti.”

“For Neyti?”

“Yes.”

Smirking, he knocked his elbow against hers. “You want a photo of me, Ennari, all you have to do is ask. But I get one in return.”

She considered him. “It depends on the type of photo.”

A rough chuckle fell from his mouth, the raspy sound grazing her spine. “I have a few ideas.” At her quiet laugh, he lowered his mouth to her ear, murmuring, “Seems like you’re keeping me around.”

The tease in his tone, the lightness in his eyes, made her smile. “I think I will.” 

Masterlist | A Muse (previous chapter) | A Muse (next chapter)

A/N: This is your friendly reminder to pay attention to the date and month of each chapter. There will be major time jumps between certain chapter groupings.

Star Wars Months:

Elona Kelona Selona Telona  Nelona Helona Melona Yelona  Relona Welona

[darlingandmreames]

I just rewatched The Ritual (again) and I NEED to talk about Luke's line when he and Hutch are talking about the camp the first night and Hutch mentions staying on to hike a bit more after they're done with the trail.

"No, I think this is enough for me."

Because it's important to keep the overall broader thematic context of the movie in mind. It's an exploration of grief and loss and trauma, and the way those things affect us and our relationships. It's about figuring out how to move on from something you can never really recover from.

"No, I think this is enough for me."

Luke is the character through which we see this journey. He's irrevocably changed by a random act of tragic violence and we watch him struggle with survivors guilt and trying to continue forward after what he's been through.

"No, I think this is enough for me."

We eventually see him get there. We see him make the active choice to keep moving forward, to move on, to live. We see him actively fight to stay alive. But that's the end of his arc. The culmination of his development. So what does that say about where he started? What does that say about his will to live at the beginning of his arc? At the time Hutch is trying to get him to agree to future plans?

"No, I think this is enough for me."

[aniseandspearmint]

Thinking about the Predator movies... They are a wildly underused random crossover. I have seen some of the movies, read a little of the comics way back when i was a kid. I'm not a mega fan, but conceptually, I think Yautja are neat.

It's a minimal knowledge of the other fandom type of crossover, where there aren't really other characters to integrate, so much as a force crashing down on top of the other fandom.

Their entire existence is like throwing a man eating tiger in the middle of a small town in wisconsin.

Leverage - The team is crashing a remote rich bitch hunting/hiking thing in the middle of *insert somewhere thematically appropriate and secluded* when something starts picking off all the idiots with assault rifles and Eliot, Parker, and Hardison have to fight for their lives against several cloaked killers.

LOTR/The Silmarillion - honestly with everything going on, would even a whole group of Yautja be noticed for a while? You could do some very interesting things with Celegorm in the first age, or with the Greenwood/Mirkwood cast in the third age.

The Untamed - There would be SO much conflicting information happening! People would assume ghost or demon, but nothing that would usually work is doing ANYTHING. Technology vs magic! I would LOVE to see the Junior Quartet have to face it on their own.

Elementary - A serial killer is hunting in central park, the bodies are mutilated, and the evidence is just plain weird. (This would work for a lot of shows set in New York tbh)

Star Wars - It's super easy to integrate one type of alien in the lots and lots of aliens fandom! There's already multiple species that gleefully hunt other sapient beings, whats one more?

[thunderon]

are you absolutely 100% sure that this was 'unintentionally' hilarious as opposed to 'going as far out of their way as possible to make this as ridiculous and silly as possible' hilarious

genuine question because I've never heard of nor seen this movie prior to literally right now

i know my three minute video i posted probably indicates otherwise, but i actually do believe that the bunnyman massacre was a sincere attempt at a film and not done as a joke

dont get me wrong: it was objectively bad. it was a poorly written, low-budget film that likely spent half of the funds on fake blood, and the two main antagonists are a guy in a bunnysuit and a hick. BUT THAT BEING SAID: it had some genuinely interesting moments. you definitely didn’t ask for this but let me tell you about it

so one of the major plotlines is the two sisters (lauren and sarah) recently lost their parents and are hiking in the woods when they are captured by the bunnyman and his partner in crime, the hick. to save her and her sister’s life, the older sister (sarah) agrees to lure three different women to the bunnyman and the hick in exchange for their freedom. both sides surprisingly hold up the end of their bargain, and the two sisters are allowed to go free.

after being set free, lauren is disgusted with sarah and wants to return to the murder barn to save the three women that sarah helped capture. the two sisters ultimately fail and they end up recaptured, and the three other women are killed in various, ridiculous ways (and i mean RIDICULOUS)

lauren and sarah manage to escape (again) during the death of the third woman. stuff happens but here’s the final standoff scene: sarah has a gun with only two bullets in it. her and lauren are being hunted by the bunnyman. sarah takes a shot at the bunnyman, misses, and lauren is subsequently killed. the bunnyman then turns to attack sarah, who now has him properly held at gunpoint with a single bullet left in the chamber.

now here’s where the film surprised me, rather than shooting the bunnyman and becoming The Final Girl, sarah turns the gun on herself, and shoots herself. the bunnyman appears to be visibly upset (as much as you can be in a bunnysuit) by the choice.

while this is happening, the hick and a cop also have a standoff. it’s pretty ridiculous, because at one point the cop has the hick held at point blank, but then they decide to settle the situation “like men” and they have a western style gun duel like. 2 meters apart. and it’s the cop with a pistol vs. the hick with a fucking sniper rifle.

the hick kills the cop, but is also mortally wounded. the bunnyman returns to find him wounded, and the hick encourages the bunnyman to shoot him, which the bunnyman does

the bunnyman then has a touching ending scene in which he stares over the mountains at sunset, and watches a school bus pass. (the opening scene of the movie was the bunnyman slaughtering a school bus of children with a chainsaw, so this is thematically relevant) and the bunnyman then has a montage scene of his slaughters/good times with his dead partner, and his dead family (it was revealed earlier in the movie that the bunnyman’s wife and kids were tragically killed). everything about this was done so sincerely. so yeah what an ending

anyways if you made it to the end here enjoy some actual shots from the ending of the film

[hashtagtmp]

Conquer Table Mountain’s Skeleton Gorge with Muki Venture: A Guided Adventure to Remember

Introduction

Discover the magic of Table Mountain’s Skeleton Gorge, one of Cape Town’s most exhilarating hiking trails, with accredited guide Muki Venture. Whether you’re a seasoned hiker or a nature enthusiast, this guided experience promises awe-inspiring views, thrilling terrain, and expert insights into one of South Africa’s iconic landmarks.

Thematic Overview

Skeleton Gorge isn’t just a hike—it’s an immersive journey through lush forests, cascading waterfalls, and panoramic vistas. With Muki Venture as your guide, you’ll unlock the trail’s hidden gems and fascinating stories. This adventure offers more than just a physical challenge; it’s an opportunity to connect with the heart of Table Mountain’s natural beauty and rich history.

Listicle Highlights

🌿 Lush Forest Canopy: Start your hike through Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens, surrounded by towering trees and vibrant flora.

🌊 Stream Crossings: Navigate gentle streams and rocky outcrops that add a touch of adventure to the journey.

⛰️ Panoramic Views: Reach the summit to experience breathtaking views of Cape Town, Table Bay, and beyond.

🧭 Expert Guidance: Muki Venture provides not only navigation but also insights into the trail’s ecosystem and history.

🦋 Wildlife Encounters: Keep an eye out for endemic bird species and unique fauna along the trail.

Hybrid Insight

Picture this: You’re standing at the trailhead, the sunlight filtering through the forest canopy. Muki Venture, with his warm smile and wealth of knowledge, briefs you on what lies ahead. As you ascend, the forest envelops you, the air filled with the scent of earth and foliage. Muki points out rare plant species, sharing tales of how the indigenous Khoisan people used them for medicine.

The climb is challenging yet rewarding, with Muki encouraging you every step of the way. At the summit, the world unfolds before you—a vast tapestry of ocean, city, and mountain. You pause to take it all in, realizing you’re part of something far greater.

Q&A

Q1: How difficult is the Skeleton Gorge hike?

A: The hike is moderately challenging, with steep inclines and some scrambling. However, Muki Venture ensures a manageable pace, making it suitable for anyone with a reasonable level of fitness.

Q2: What should I bring for the hike?

A: Essentials include sturdy hiking boots, water, sunscreen, and a light jacket. Muki provides guidance on what to pack beforehand.

Q3: Is the hike safe?

A: Absolutely! With Muki’s accredited guidance, you’ll have expert navigation and support, ensuring a safe and enjoyable experience.

Q4: Can beginners join the hike?

A: Yes! While Skeleton Gorge offers some challenges, Muki tailors the hike to the group’s experience level, ensuring everyone feels comfortable.

Conclusion

Embarking on the Skeleton Gorge guided hike with Muki Venture is more than just a trek—it’s a transformative experience that brings you closer to nature, challenges your limits, and rewards you with unparalleled views. Ready to conquer Table Mountain? Book your adventure with Muki Venture today!

[moe-broey]

@princ3y I WANTED TO ANSWER THIS!!!!! Because it has an extremely funny answer actually!!

SO. Juries still out on Moe's whole team, and I have.... many... MANY.... oddly specific "is that realistic?" rules.

Which leads to this concept sketch!

Computer ENHANCE

I THINK. ESPPPP BC MOE FAVORS GHOST TYPES. But also THEMATICALLY. I think Hisuian Zorua and Zoroark would be RIGHT up its alley. It would fucking LOVE Hisuian Zorua and Zoroark.

But. Well I was going to elaborate on the logistics of this, but then I had the thought of "Wait. How the hell does a Ghost go extinct." I had lore and everything. Moe has a whole gallery on its phone of artwork of Hisuian Zorua/Zoroark. It found out about it in some fucking textbook and it has been obsessed with it ever since. It Longs for Hisuian Zorua and Zoroark, if it was still here today it would hike up to the mountains to find one immediately. It would probably die trying. Its signature move is BITTER MALICE, I mean COME ON!!!!! Moe is a resentful bitch who can hold a nasty grudge and it loves anything that has been condemned and rejected and feared.

I guess there's also the ScarVio Blueberry Academy DLC that just said "Fuck it do whatever you want forever" when it comes to the extinct Pokemon of Hisui too. But I didn't WANNA operate on those rules..... I WANTED to have this be A World Building exercise............. (AND!! SUBSEQUENTLY!!! A CHARACTERIZATION EXERCISE!!!!!!!)

Any which way my dreams were dashed because I hit a wall trying to figure out what Moe's color palette should be and then I got distracted and veered off into a different project entirely. Many such cases! 😭🧍

[halfbakedspuds]

Taking the open tag from @somethingclevermahogony

Rules: answer as many (or as few) of the questions about your WIP as you can

What was the first part of your WIP that you created?: wow, that is a bit of a question. See, before I realised that I had a story to tell in this universe, before politics or interstellar wars or honour bound gunslingers became a thing, Children of the Stars existed purely as a boredom fueled daydream about a world where humanity on Earth was a long lost colony of an empire that would check up on us every hundred years or so and try nudge our technology along a bit (I know.shocking how much a story can deviate from the original idea, eh?). This concept of an incredibly technologically advanced civilisation trying to work on a primitive society from the shadows is, at it's core, the basic premise of what would (three or four iterations later, when I started writing my mess of a first draft as an HFY episodic series) become the IUC [Imperial upliftment corps], so I think it's safe to say that's probably the oldest thing simply because it's survived the longest.

If your story was a TV show, what would the intro song be?: "Short change hero" by The Heavy. Maybe swapping it out for "Blue Monday 88" by The New Order about halfway through the series for thematic reasons could be a good idea.

Who are your favourite character/s and why? Adrian Castellan purely because of how much of a challenge it was to start thinking like he would. I started writing his backstory, and when I was done, I stood back a bit and realised that actually getting into the headspace of someone who is (for lack of better phrasing) seven unique kinds of f***ed up but still trying to be a good person is going to be difficult. The kind of person who's had to kill frequently in horrific ways since before his age had even hit the double digits just to survive to adulthood. Yet despite everything, he's still someone who's good with kids, someone who will care about a complete stranger in his own thorny way and someone who still has a heart, battered and jerry-rigged though it might be.

What other pieces of media could share a fan base with your WIP? I think Warhammer 40k fans might see some draw in the setting until they see a xenophilic humanity (Just kidding, I love you guys). Maybe a few Stellaris players or MiB fans.

What has been your biggest struggle while writing your WIP? Probably the story itself actually. I got the setting and character chemistry down and continued to wing the hell out of the story for quite a while before figuring out what the story was that kept teasing me to tell it.

Are there any animals in your story? Talk about them! All of them are alien to human sensibilities given that the entire book takes place on another planet. There are the Tsgara, six-legged reptilian chase predators about the size of a cheetah that are evolved to prey upon the local intelligent species. They tend to get confused by geometric shapes for some reason, so a legitimate defense tactic is to carry an eight armed star on you and just shove it right in their face to scare them off. Then there are the Kalaani, who are bred as beasts of burden and for meat, or the Ghar-nemyi or "unnamed horrors" that live in the deeper regions of the planet's seas and are called "Leviattii" (Leviathans) by the humans, or more informally "Magna Nothi" (The big bastards). Adrian likes to call them Djunlanur, which means something like "the big Fuglies," .

How do your characters get around? Depends. Anywhere in the city, they use their legs. Anywhere else is either a hike or them calling a transport to come pick them up.

What part of your WIP are you working on right now? What I affectionately am calling 'the war of the shared braincell' in my notes, which is Adrian trying to hide the true nature of what his people are and what their purpose is on Kradoma from Lyanni, while she proves to actually be annoyingly intelligent given that she has no prior knowledge to go on and can still consistently figure out where she needs to go for scraps of answers.

What aspects of your WIP do you think will draw people in? Hopefully the uniqueness of the setting and premise, maybe the promise of it being a scifi political drama.. idk.

Questions:

What was the first part of your WIP that you created?

If your story was a TV show, what would the intro song be?

Who are your favourite character/s and why?

What other pieces of media could share a fan base with your WIP?

What has been your biggest struggle while writing your WIP?

Are there any animals in your story? Talk about them!

How do your characters get around?

What part of your WIP are you working on right now?

What aspects of your WIP do you think will draw people in?

Open tag for whomever wants it.

[runawaymun]

Fifteen questions for fifteen mutuals - tagged by @slightnettles - sorry it took me so long to get to this! It's been a crazy past few weeks.

1. Are you named after anyone?

Not really, unless you count the Biblical character (which was a definite inspiration to my parents, but they were more set on the meaning rather than any namesakes).

2. When was the last time you cried?

Oh I don't remember honestly. Recently, but not recently enough for me to remember an exact instance. I probably have something pent up in here that I need to get out.

3. Do you have kids?

No. :) just three cats.

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

Nah /s (though I do use it less than I used to).

5. What sports do you play/have played?

None actually. I have really fucked up joints & my family weren't big on getting any of their girls into sports (boys played basketball). I did a bit of archery and also just the mandatory swim lessons as a kid. These days I do really enjoy outdoor activities like hiking but I don't do it as often as I'd like.

6. What's the first thing you notice about people?

Vibes first, usually how anxious or confident they are.

7. What's your eye colour?

Blue.

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

Both! Though I'm less of a horror person and more of a terror person. As for happy endings, I don't have a preference. I only ask that the ending is thematically satisfying.

9. Any special talents?

I make really good pickles.

10. Where were you born?

In hospital. I am capable of killing macbeth & was the smallest baby ever to come home from that particular hospital. Weirdly not early, just a lot of complications.

11. What are you hobbies?

Reading, writing, art, and gaming mostly -- anything with survival mechanics, or RPGs, but also a big fan of certain civ sims like Rimworld or Frostpunk.

12. Do you have pets?

Yes! I have an orange tabby, a grayish tabby, and a ringtail tabby (her tail curls over her back like a husky). I also would like to eventually get some fish.

13. How tall are you?

somewhere around 4'9"-4'10" (144-147cm. can't remember exactly which).

14. Favorite subject in school?

History, easy.

15. Dream job?

Author, eventually. I'd like to go the trad publishing route with some of my work, though maybe not all of it.

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No pressure Tagging: @eldritchteletubbie @ellrond @metatomatoes @the-commonplace-book @raointean @lowopacityelrondpussy @eldamaranquendi @niennawept @elentarial @strawberrymeriadoc and whoever else wants to participate.