#what are we calling this ship these days even

[frannyzooey]

Warriors

Merry Christmas @papurgaatika !! I am your Secret Santa, and I had a blast writing this for you ❤️ We share a first love of Din and writing this made me realize just how much I've missed him! I hope this is everything you wished for and more -- and I hope you have an amazing holiday!! 🎄❄️🎄❄️

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader

Rating: Explicit

--

You first spotted him on the outer reaches of the galaxy. 

His beskar armor demanded to be seen, a surprising choice for someone who worked in the shadows. But while the first time you saw him was a flash at the edge of the market, it wasn’t the first time he had seen you. 

He’d been watching you for weeks. 

The bounty on your head was a high one: a disgruntled old boss with a lot of credits, and even more vindictiveness. You’d been skipping from planet to planet, earning anything you could from spare jobs, and stealing whenever you had to. You knew your luck had to run out one day, but you always thought you’d be able to talk your way out of it. 

It’s a misunderstanding, you’d say. Let me tell you my side of the story. 

Just your luck that the bounty hunter who finally caught you wouldn’t budge an inch. 

He was stoic, solid. Impenetrable, just like his armor. The very size of his body intimidated you, but it had nothing on what you felt when he stared. The helmet he constantly wore hid everything from you, and even though you couldn’t see his expression, you still tried to plead your case.

It was like arguing with a wall. 

You pressed, and he remained silent. You explained, and he stood eerily still. You begged, and he said nothing.

Eventually, he admitted that the begging did it. 

That, and the fact that he needed a babysitter – for a child just as stubborn as he was. 

Weeks spent watching the Child and waiting around for him had your nerves strung tight, and sleep pulled at your dry eyes. You knew he was just as tired, but he was being infuriatingly stubborn – as usual. 

“Just take the bed,” he urged. 

“You’ve been out there for over two weeks,” you argued back, gesturing outside the ship. “Not a chance. You need sleep.”

“I’ll sleep in the cockpit.”

“Why, when you could stretch out?” you pushed back. 

His sighs were always these weighted things – thick with impatience, paired with hands on his hips and a tip of his helmet. The sound of it made you cringe when he did it to bounties, made you smile when he did it to the kid – but now, it made you frustrated. Annoyed. 

You crossed your arms over your chest, standing firm. He could be stubborn, but so could you. 

“The kid’s been down for ages, Mando. Take advantage of it.”

“And where will you sleep?” he pressed. 

“On the floor. Up in the cockpit. Wherever.” 

“On the floor?” He stared you down, and it took everything you had not to avert your eyes. 

“Hey,” you called him out. “Don’t try to intimidate me. It’s not going to work.”

He remained silent, and you huffed with annoyance. 

“Please,” you sighed. “I’m tired, you’re tired, the kids asleep. You need rest. Just take the bed.”

You turned to climb the ladder to the cockpit, and his voice stopped you. 

“Want to share it?”

–

Whatever sleep you thought you’d get, you were kidding yourself. 

The hulk of this man was a furnace next to you: the broad span of his shoulders blocking out the hull, the width of his chest shielding you, the bulk of his thighs pressed against your own. Insisting you take the side closest to the wall, you couldn’t even crawl out of the cot to go sleep somewhere else without waking him up – and that was the last thing you wanted to do. 

Okay, maybe not the last. 

The last thing you wanted was for him to wake up because you couldn’t stop squirming. 

Paired with the heat of his body, the ache that gathered at the crux of your thighs made it impossible to sleep. It sprouted at his proximity, blossomed at the reminder of his strength, and grew with each of his deep, steady exhales. It pooled in the cradle of your pelvis, flooding through your hips and down. 

Gingerly, you rolled onto your side – but his hips lined up too much with your ass for you to ignore. You tried your other side, but the crook of his neck called to you. You tried your back, and that’s when he spoke. 

“Is something the matter?”

You startled, unaware that he’d been awake this whole time. That kriffing helmet. 

“Can’t sleep, I guess.”

He hummed, the sound going straight to your core. “Not enough space?”

It really wasn’t, but you found yourself not wanting to admit it. It was either this or the cold, uncomfortable cockpit and being curled up next to him was the better option. 

Even if you ended up going mad with want. 

“No,” you replied. “It’s fine.”

He nodded, going still. 

Your eyes ran up the length of his forearm, over the bulk of his bicep. You pictured his arm lifting to rest itself across the dip of your waist, and imagining the weight of it, you let out a shaky exhale. Closing your eyes, you leaned into the fantasy: his hand sliding underneath the band of your thermals, cupping you wholly between your legs. His fingers sliding inside of you with a stretch, your thighs parting to make room for his thick wrist. Slick pooled along your seam and dripped out, and you shifted again on the cot. 

This time, his hand stilled you. 

“Do you want me to sleep somewhere else?” 

“No,” you blurted out, embarrassed. “No. I’m sorry.”

“Do you want…something else?” 

Your cheeks flooded with warmth, and you turned your head to look at him. “Like what?”

He shrugged, the shadowed round of his shoulder moving in the darkness. “You tell me.”

–

It didn’t take long after that to be buried underneath the bulk of his body. 

Every inch of skin that you dreamt about for months bared for your touch, you couldn’t stop exploring him – the fragrant crook of his neck, the smooth planes of muscle that covered his back, the trim sides of his torso and his soft belly dusted with hair. He seemed to revel in your touch, and you imagined that to be the case, with how often he was covered head to toe. 

His hips fit neatly within the cradle of your thighs, and when he filled you with a swift, precise push forward, a flutter erupted in your belly at the idea that he might fuck like he hunts – with competence and skill. Your back arched off his cot to take him deeper, and he groaned in your ear. 

“Fuck, you feel good,” he praised, his knees shifting wider for purchase. His hips kissed the inside of your thighs with every roll forward, his weight spreading them wider underneath his strokes, and your hands splayed across his chest when he pushed himself up on his hands to stroke deeper, harder. Scars littered his chest, memories of his past permanently etched into his skin and something about it tugged at you – the idea that he always came out on top, but paid a price to get there.

Wanting to give him the rest you knew he deserved, you tugged him down on top of you and rolled your bodies until you straddled his lap – a sight that made him hum with appreciation. He tried to sit up to join you, but you pushed him back down. 

“I said you need rest, Mando,” you reminded him of your earlier words, your hips rolling in time with every upwards push of his. The filling heft of his cock had your mouth dropping open, and though you couldn’t see his face, you knew his eyes were fixed on it. “Let me – let me do the work.”

“Okay,” he eventually agreed, his thumb finding the bud of your clit. A few swipes of his touch had you keening, and he rested his other arm back behind his head, as if getting comfortable to watch the show. “I’ll watch while you make yourself come this time, sweet girl. But the next one?”

You moaned, your hips rocking faster against his – forwards into the swirling pressure of the pad of his thumb, and backwards onto the filling thickness of his cock. 

“The next one is mine.”

–

After that first night, he never let you sleep anywhere else. 

The cot much too small for two bodies, you made do by always being joined in one way or another: your limbs entwined, your body draped over his, his cock nestled inside you. Days and sometimes weeks without him at your side, he stripped bare every time he crawled in next to you, loathe to waste any moment without your skin touching his. 

Your face fit into the crook of his neck perfectly, his arm wrapped around your waist just right. For someone that spent so long by himself, it was clear that he was touch starved, but as you found out, so were you. 

Two lonely stars, colliding in a galaxy. 

You got used to his moods and he got used to yours. A routine came easy: you played the mechanic to his pilot, the babysitter to his parent, the vessel for him to pour his love into. And he did, every chance he could get. 

In the cockpit, poured into your mouth. 

In the hull of the ship, splashed along your back. 

In his cot, every single night, in every single way possible – smeared across your chest, pooled on your soft belly, flooded into the depths of your cunt. 

It shouldn’t have been a surprise what happened after that, but it was. 

–

Seated on the edge of the worn exam table, you swallowed hard against a cough that rose in your chest. It tickled the base of your throat, demanding relief and you tucked your face into the crook of your elbow and let out a wet cough, your lungs heavy and sore. 

You had caught it from a bounty, a filthy vagrant that Mando had hauled up the ramp earlier that month. Due to a few choice words that the bounty spit at you, Mando made sure to freeze him (none too kindly) right away, but not before the stranger coughed with force in the small space. 

Not one to see a doctor for his own ailments, you were surprised when he demanded you see one after a couple weeks of the lingering cold. Leaving him waiting in the lobby, you smiled at the immediate berth the other patients gave him when he sat down. 

You picked at your finger, suppressing the urge to cough again. 

The medical droid reassured you. “You’ll be fine. All life signs for you and the child are reading in good condition.”

“The child?” you asked. The kid wasn’t sick, and he wasn’t even here.

“Looks like it’s just a cough. The baby is fine – all vitals are measuring optimal.”

You froze, unable to reply. 

The baby. 

“The…baby?”

The droid laughed, modulated and carefree like their words didn’t just shatter your whole existence. “A couple months along, I’d say. Do you want to listen?”

Gently lifting your tunic, they pressed a monitor to the curve of your stomach and the pulsing heartbeat that met your ears brought instant tears to your eyes. 

“There, there,” the droid soothed, handing you a tissue. “Sounds healthy!”

You walked back to the ship in a daze, your surroundings a blur, your mind stuck on a loop of worry.

He never asked for this. 

This is no life to raise a child in. 

The ship – the ship barely fits the three of you, where the maker is a baby going to go?

The endless questions ate away at you for the rest of the evening, every worst case scenario coming true in your mind. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

On his side facing you, Din (a name he had long ago whispered to you in the darkness of his cot) ran his touch along your arm. He tucked you closer, rubbing your back. “You still feel sick?”

Your cheek rested against the firm heat of his chest, and you listened to his heartbeat – so like the one you heard earlier today. They sounded the same, and tucked safely next to his bulk, you murmured the words into his neck. 

“I’m going to have a baby.”

His visor tilted downwards just as his hand tipped your chin up. He looked down at you, and you wished desperately that you could see his face. Your lip trembled when he said nothing, and he cleared his throat. 

“I…wanted to wait,” he started, and your face crumbled. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, cutting him off. Your voice wavered, and you looked away. “I –”

“Stop.” His commanding voice halted your sentence mid-speech. His hold slid from your chin to your cheek, cupping the soft curve. 

“I wanted to wait,” he repeated, softer this time. “Until we could find someone to do the ceremony.”

Your face scrunched in confusion, and he dragged the pad of his thumb across your cheekbone, collecting a stray tear.

“We have a special ceremony we perform, when we bind ourselves to someone for life. It involves…taking our helmet off, so they can see us. So they can know us, better than anyone else.”

Your gaze transfixed on his visor, you held your breath as he reached for the edge of his helmet. 

“You already know me better than anyone else, so…”

He lifted the helmet up, and for the first time, you saw his face. 

He was beautiful – warm, rich brown eyes, ringed with thick lashes. A strong nose, a plush mouth. Stubble that scattered across his cheeks, a moustache that you never would have imagined. His curls were dark and mussed, and you envisioned a baby in your arms with the same color hair. 

The grin that broke across his face was almost as beautiful as the face itself – and every worry you had vanished at the sight of it. 

He cleared his throat, and when he spoke, the sound of his real voice brought fresh tears to your eyes. 

"We are one when together, we are one when parted.” He recited the vows and his hand took yours, placing it on his chest. He let his own touch rest along the curve of your belly. “We will share all, we will raise warriors."

You sobbed, and he laughed – a new, treasured sound that made you cry even harder. 

“You have to repeat it,” he teased. 

Focused on his voice – his real voice, the feeling of hearing it for the first time overwhelming you – you took a deep breath, and stared into his eyes. 

“We are one when together, we are one when parted.” A hitch in your breath broke the vow, and he smiled, his fingers splaying across your skin. “We will share all, we will raise warriors.”

[bueckersbitch]

winter things - paige bueckers x reader

⟡ warnings : sexual innuendo!

⟡ word count : 2.5k

⟡ authors note : a late christmas gift for you guysssss ;) i highly recommend listening to winter things by ariana grande while reading! hope you guys had an amazing day!

⟡ taglist : @sierrale8ne @thaatdigitaldiary @pboogerswbb @lupinqs @bueckersfive @xxloveralways14 @d3arapril @mrsarnold @rosemariiaa @janaelalfysblunt @lovegalor333

2024~ Chatter from the tv stays prominent, Grey’s Anatomy playing, Paige’s choice, of course. Sherpa blanket cocooning you and her, hot chocolate snug in your right hand, warmth spreading from the bear mug onto your hand. Storrs was beautiful at this time of year, right before the holidays, Paige had invited you over to her family’s house for Christmas this year, so here you were, together, on your apartment’s couch, a couple days before your flight to Maryland. You glance over at Paige, blonde hair tugged into a bun, eyes fluttering in and out of sleep, arm against your waist, while her head lays on your chest. Her nose was tinged pink, as you insisted on keeping your apartment cold to stay “in the holiday spirit”. Paige, ever the noticer, feels your eyes on her, “Hey baby.” She smiles, before closing her eyes and using her free hand to pull you into a soft kiss.

Quiet hums of content leave both of your mouths, soft lips moving in unison. Paige pulls away first, at her own dismay, staying close to you while whispering, “I have an early present for you baby.” Your eyes widened, you both had agreed to ship presents to Bob’s house in Maryland, no early presents. You should’ve known though, Paige wasn’t foreign to springing surprises onto you, not even just at Christmas time, but throughout the entire year. “Angel, I thought we said no early presents this year?” Paige’s pink lips turn into a grin, “S’nothing, for real, just something I couldn’t ship to my dads house.”

Obviously, your eyebrows furrow, as the only thing Paige wouldn’t be able to send to Bob’s house would be something related to s- “And no, it’s not like that, you really should get your mind outta the gutter.” Paige interrupts your thoughts, nodding her head in disapproval, but was it really your fault for thinking that, just yesterday you opened your apartment door, took one look at the christmas tree, and beneath it? A box from a sex shop, innocently tied with a red ribbon bow around it. Your girlfriend turning the corner with those cheesy rizz hands.

“I wasn’t even thinking that Madison…” Paige suppresses a laugh at this, she knew you, in and out. She sheds the blanket from her, her black sports bra and green plaid pajama pants coming into view, before interlocking her hands with yours, pulling you from your spot on the couch, one that you had been in the last three hours.

Paige guides you to your kitchen island, pulling out the stool for you, “Sit, and no peeking!” You nod, wondering what tricks she had up her sleeve this time. “Okay, make sure those eyes are closed ma!” Paige calls out from the spare room. “They are!” You hear shuffling from behind you, before faint grunts and the sound of wrapping paper moving on the surface in front of you. “Open, baby” Paige says, out of breath. You open your eyes, being met with an interestingly wrapped figure in front of you, half the size of you, at least.

You turn to Paige, being met with the same eager face you see every time she gets you something, her fingers are pulled to her mouth, anxiously biting at her fingernails. When she realizes you’re looking at her, her hands drop to her sides, a swift, “Well, open it!” Ushering out of her mouth. Tearing through the pink wrapping paper, decorated with cats, the soft fur of a plush toy grazes your fingers. You know immediately.

Paige was always upset she couldn’t just put you in her pocket and take you everywhere she went, away games, award shows, you name it, the girl had attachment issues. So, instead of bringing you everywhere, she brought back jellycats, the plush toy correlating to each place she went in some way. You urged her to stop, trying to tell her to not spend so much money on things for you, but as much as you hated the amount she was willing to spend on things that may be viewed as “child-like”, you had taken a liking to the corner of your bed, where the cutest stuffed animals had piled up.

You finally shed all the wrapping paper off the gift, a huge white bunny staring back at you. Your eyes tinge with tears, lips tucked together, trying not to let your emotions get the best of you. You jump onto Paige, arms around her neck, while hers wrap around your waist, you both fall to the floor, “Well? Do you like it baby?” You giggle, unwrapping your arms from around her neck, placing both hands beside her head, pushing up just enough to see her face, blonde hair spread like a halo around her, adding to the never ending list of her angel like qualities. “Like it? Are you actually kidding? I told you to stop spending so much money on these!!” Of course, you knew the big cuddly bunny had cost her upwards of $500, you were thinking of buying it yourself for your bedroom. “Stop saying that ma, y’know money means nothing to me, because you’re everything to me.” You see tears from your eyes fall onto Paige’s cheeks, her hand gripping your waist a little tighter as she pulls you into her, stroking your hair as you tell her you love her, over and over.

It was now 3:00 pm, your mittened hand was holding Paige’s as the two of you drove to a cute outdoor christmas tree farm, and even though the chill of the outside was unwavering, your pink puffer jacket, double lined flare leggings, and ugg boots kept you warm, you weren’t foreign to the cold, as you had grown up in Maine. “Winter Things” by Ariana Grande was softly playing through the speakers. Obviously, you were singing the song to the blonde next to you, her small grin peeking through. Her hair was down now, black hoodie that fit a little too tight around her arms, black sweatpants, and since you had insisted on matching in some way, she had thrown on her ugg tasman slippers.

You put on your earmuffs, while Paige puts on her “Supreme” beanie, before Paige swings around to the passenger side of the car, opening your door so you could step out of the car. You were immediately met with the chill New England air, nose and lips going numb by the second. Paige takes your hand in hers, looking down at you before closing her eyes and kissing the top of your head.

Hand in hand, Paige pays for your guys tickets to the activities they had set up at the farm. Sitting down on a bench, you watch Paige lace up her ice skates quickly, murmuring out a, “I’m gon put yours on, don’t even worry about it ma” You wait patiently, taking in your surroundings, a wood concessions stand with chalk drawings of holiday items covering it to your right, while the ice rink was right in front of you. The rink was secluded by tall pine trees, fairy lights strung over head of the rink, and speakers nestled within the trees, playing every christmas song you could think of. Paige drops to her knees, big hands taking your right foot, sliding your ugg boot off and into the ice skate, lacing it up and tying a pretty bow to finish. She repeats the action with your left foot, but as you both stand, Paige wobbles, hand reaching out to find something to grab onto. You offer your hand for balance, laughing at the fearful look in her eyes, and the way she was slightly hunched over, trying to distribute her weight well enough to stand. “I promise you it;s not that funny” Her sassy side coming out, rolling her eyes at your reaction to the situation, “And I promise it is!” You tease her for a little before stepping onto the ice, easily gliding around the rink, lapping Paige multiple times while she holds onto the side rails. You finally slow down, reaching Paige, you take her hand, her frustrated face calming at your touch, you look up at her, “You would think all that footwork on the court would translate well to the rink.” Paige tugs her lips into a tight line, letting out a deep breath she didn’t know she was holding, “Ha. Ha. Real funny, must be because i’m so tall” She concludes, proud with her answer. “Okay what… That doesn’t even make sense.” You counter, Paige grabs your face in her hands, “Can you just let me have that one thing baby?” How could you say no, when her bright blue eyes were wide, and questioning you. But, as soon as she lets go of your face, she lands right on her butt, you can’t help but let out a laugh, earning looks from the three other people on the rink. Paige groans, laying down fully, accepting her fate at this point. You see her eyes shoot open, then she sits up, abruptly taking your hand and pulling you down onto her, “Baby! Stop laughing at me!” She says as she tickles you, a good 10 seconds pass, the both of you still on the ground, she takes your face in her hand once again, kissing all over your face, “Say you’re sorry!” Your eyes are tightly shut, bracing yourself for all the kisses she was giving you, “Okay, OKAY! I’m sorry!” Paige stops, pulling away, then pulling you into a long kiss.

2031~ Your eyes flutter open to your wife kissing all over your face, pulling you out of a deep sleep. “G���morning mama” she says, you groan, rubbing your eyes awake, trying to shake the sleep from yourself. After paige had gone #1 in the 2025 draft, you dropped everything to leave Connecticut to live with her in Dallas. After three years playing for the Wings, Paige had requested a trade, tired of the Texas scenery. It had landed her in San Francisco, with the Valkyries. But now, it was Christmas morning, the warm light of your chandelier created a soft glow on Paige’s face. Your legs were intertwined with hers, the comfortable temperature of California in December meant you could sleep with just underwear and a small tank top, it also meant you could have that intimate skin to skin contact with your lover, Paige wearing boxers and a sports bra. You pull yourself out of bed and over to the dresser, throwing on some plaid pajama shorts, and tugging a perfect pink santa hat with your name embroidered on the rim. You open a drawer, reaching for the matching pajama pants Paige had, taking her hat with her name. You toss the clothing over to her. A faint knocking comes from outside your bedroom door, you look at Paige, both smiling, knowing what would accompany it. “Mama? Mom? Santa came!” Your heart gushes at the soft voice, muffled by the barrier of your bedroom door.

Swinging the door open, the hand of your daughter grips yours, pulling you out of your room, “Adelaide! Honey, slow down! We have to wait for Mom!” Your daughter stops, looking up at you with big brown eyes. She was five, and her name had been chosen because of you and Paige’s trip to Australia, the place where you had drunkenly told her you were ready for kids. Here you were, five years later, with the cutest daughter you could ever ask for. You ruffle her hair, and she crosses her arms, frustratingly saying, “Well she should’ve been ready.” Right on queue, hands come up from behind you, holding your waist, looking over your shoulder, the blonde says, “I’m sorry honey, you’re right! I shoulda been ready!” Adelaide grabs one of each of your hands, tugging you guys down the stairs, and to the 8 foot tall Christmas tree in the living room. You and Paige grabbed a blanket, sitting down on the couch, heads on each other. You watched Adelaide, a small frame running around the tree, trying to decide what to open first, Paige occasionally saying something to her mini. Your hands went to your necklace, the one that Paige had given you in your stocking last night, a cartier panthère necklace. Paige notices your nerves, of course. “She’ll love everything ma, she’s literally us.” You sigh, nodding your head at the realization of your happy family. “Okay! Mama, Mom, this one first!” You both look at your daughter, pointing to the biggest gift of them all, Paige hollers out a “Woohoo!” Adelaide rips through the wrapping, eyes lighting up with excitement, “Barbie! Barbie!” She squealed out, jumping up and down at the sight of a Barbie Dreamhouse. You and Paige both laugh at the joy of your daughter, knowing she had been wanting one since her birthday in October. “Nailed it.” Paige whispers in your ear, offering a fist bump to you. She got up, running over to the small girl, putting her hands in her armpits and hoisting her into the air, catching her and nuzzling her head. Your nerves had worn off, first gift jitters soothed as you watched your daughter and your wife. Snuggling into the comfort of your couch, you braced yourself for the long morning ahead, because you and your wife had obviously decided to spoil your daughter rotten.

2064~ Hot chocolate in your hand, you rocked in your rocking chair, looking at your wife, married for 39 years. Wrinkles had now taken to her face, a beautiful reflection of the long and fulfilling life she had lived. You both resided in Maine now, Paige retiring her career, she had promised you that you could pick anywhere to live, feeling bad for you having to follow wherever the W took her, even though you consistently told her that she was your home.

You chose Maine, a small town called Portland, the town being ever welcoming to all people. You found what you were looking for in Portland, a town where everyone had silently agreed to not let the outside world in on every movement between you and Paige. Off the radar. That’s what you wanted. Of course, having the attention of supporters made you feel all the love, but you wanted your final years to be calm, let Paige’s legacy do the talking for her, instead of constant interviews and photos taken of her.

Paige agreed with you, the overwhelming pressure had no doubt weighed on her shoulders, and she made her mark. She knew that. Paige looks at you, her hair was back to its natural color now, brown, except now it had some grey in it, “Beautiful, just like you.” She refers to the colors of the sky, orange, mixed with pale pink and lavender purple, an effect of the day coming to an end. Christmas being a tradition at your guys’ house now, your daughters, Adelaide, and Eloise, flying in with their families. A creak comes from the door behind you, “Mama? Mom? Dinner’s ready!” Your daughter Adelaide called. “One second honey.” You got out, before resting your head on Paige's shoulder, breathing in her perfume, content with the life you guys had made.

[wikiangela]

Hi, a bit late but joining in on the @alliwantforchristmasislou project 🫶

I decided to donate to a polish organisation called the stonewall group (which is why the pic is in polish lol)

chose this one just because im the most familiar with this one, and they do amazing work in support of lgbt+ people and fighting for our rights in this... not so queer-friendly country 🫶

now, ive been in the 911 fandom for almost 4 years now (gonna be 4 in i think February), and i only started after the episode Buck actually bc it was allll over my dash. i binged the whole show in a week, before the next episode is even aired, I loved it SO much.

as most of y'all know, I initially shipped buddie - it was the big ship, ofc i did, i wrote so much fic for them and i had so much fun and met so many moots i still love seeing on my dash 🫶❤️ but it might've been obvious (or not, idk) i was kinda getting bored and losing enjoyment, more and more of my fics and snippets were focusing on other characters with buck or eddie, i wasnt really as into it anymore - but i still loved it and wanted to enjoy it (which ironically was killed dead later on by the buddie fandom itself lmao)

and then came bucktommy and everything changed. initially i tried not to give in but within a few days i had two fics and more ideas lol they completely took over my thoughts. ive never been this inspired to write, to create, I even learned how to make gifs for them (with lots of help from amazing talented friends 🫶🤣) during fall and winter I always get so depressed and sad and having very dark and depressing thoughts (last year my buck driving fic was a result of that lol), and its so hard to find motivation to do anything, even write. but this year, even tho I had a lil crisis moment, i wrote through it and im as inspired as always - i havent stopped writing since april. they're literally the most inspiring ship ever - and fun fact, usually i prefer writing about fanon ships, so this was a huge change and surprise

I always related to buck a lot, and especially once we got his bisexuality canon - checking out and appreciating hot people of the same sex and not realizing what it means is too real lol - and Tommy is so compelling and theres so much potential for so many stories there, I wish the show would do something interesting with him 😭 despite being so confident and cool, he feels like he's holding back some sad, maybe (probably) traumatic backstory that could be so good and interesting - and lou is such a good actor and itd be amazing to see more from him in this role

they wrote tommy as the perfect love interest for buck, and it was amazing to see it on screen, it was such a breath of fresh air to see this kind of queer representation on a network show, it was so gentle and adorable, and they initially handled it with so much care, and id love to see where they'd go from there 😭 the break up broke my heart not only because it happened, but because it felt ooc and abrupt and not at all like that's where the story was going. wish they'd fix it and give us tommy back 😭🙏

and lastly but most importantly - thanks to bucktommy, i met so many amazing friends ❤️😭 even when I was writing fics and interacting with mutuals on here, i was never really talking to a lot of mutuals, not for longer than a few messages, and now i got this wonderful community that i feel so comfortable in, everyone is so nice and friendly, and I love y'all so much, this is the best fandom experience ive ever had ❤️

thank you all, ive been having so much fun since april, i love y'all. here's to more bucktommy in 2025 ❤️

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

Heart on a Chain (Scrooge!Aemond x Reader)

Christmas day and a recently rediscovered ring bring unpleasant and unwanted memories.

Pairing: Ebenezer Scrooge-coded Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (second person, no use of Y/N)

Warnings: Angst :(

Author's note: The guy that played young Scrooge at the Christmas Carol I went to today was hot and the way he carried himself reminded me of Aemond so... here we are. Wrote this in less than two hours lmao.

-

Heart on a Chain

Christmas Day.

For the past two years, Aemond had not given more than a passing thought to the holiday. That thought being annoyance at having to pay his employees a full day’s wages for no work.

It was just another day. He woke, read the papers while he ate, then went to the office. He balanced the books, double-checked the work of his clerks, and inspected the warehouse’s stock. He sat with his business partner and discussed new prospects.

Even now, Cole was telling him about a potential new partnership he’d identified. A newly founded firm, desperate for reputable clients, would be almost too easy to maneuver into a contract that would heavily favor Targaryen & Cole. Ordinarily, Aemond would be eager to sink his teeth into the prospect, but now…

Now, he could not focus on Cole’s words. He could not bear to look at the pages of figures strewn on the table before them. He couldn’t even remember the name of the new firm, or what it was they did.

His entire world had faded to the ring that sat in his pocket.

Dull, cheap gold set with a pathetically small cabochon – he didn’t remember what the stone was, just that it was vaguely red. It looked ridiculous against the fine gold chain he’d purchased. That was the reason it remained in his pocket, rather than around his neck, he told himself.

It certainly wasn’t because he was afraid to see it out in the open, to be reminded of the slender hand it had once graced and the woman it had belonged to.

He hadn’t thought of her in years. Had not let himself, from the moment the door closed behind her. The same door that now loomed behind Cole, where the dented brass bell swayed slightly from the draft, just as it had three Christmases past…

“Aemond?”

He held back a sigh. Why did she have to come now? He was busy, as he told her he would be. He did not want to be disturbed, as he also told her. He had even agreed to go to Christmas dinner at her parent’s house that evening to ensure she would not bother him during the day.

Yet, here she was.

“Yes, dearest?” he called as he climbed off the ladder. Best to be sweet now, to soothe whatever mood had taken her this time. If she came all the way down to Cornhill and made it past Cole in the office, she must be in quite the state.

Indeed, as she found him amongst the massive rows of shelves, her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes shone with tears that sparkled with the reflection of his lamp. Still, she was beautiful. If only she would content herself with what he had to do to ensure the security of their life together.

She stopped, straightening her shoulders. Her furious blinking betrayed the fact that she was battling her tears to keep them from falling. “Aemond, we need to speak.”

“I assume there is something particular you wish to speak about?” He was distracted as he walked toward her, the label on one of the crates he passed catching his eye.

That order was supposed to be shipped out days ago. He’d dock Cargyll’s wages by half this week for allowing such a major error. The recipient of this shipment was very particular and would undoubtedly complain that his goods were late.

“We must discuss our agreement,” her voice, now bordering on shrill, reclaimed his attention.

What was there to discuss? He’d agreed to go to her house after he finished work at six, and… damn. When he pulled his watch from his waistcoat, he found it was already half-past seven. Still, dinner wouldn’t be served until eight. He had time. “I admit I’m running late, but with all the workers out for the holiday – ”

“Not about that agreement, Aemond. About our engagement.” A heavy stone settled in Aemond’s stomach, chill as ice. She continued, “I cannot help but feel that an idol has displaced me in your affections.”

The stone turned hot and rancid with anger. “And what is this idol, may I ask?”

“A golden one.” Her tears vanished, replaced with cold righteousness. “Wealth and power, and everything else your father denied you.”

“Is it a sin to seek security? To endeavor to escape the cruel grasp of poverty and helplessness?”

She came closer to him, setting a gloved hand on his arm. He had to resist the urge to pull away. “Your fear and resentment have overpowered your nobler aspirations,” she said softly. “Now, your only passion is gaining more and more, beyond what is necessary.”

Aemond took her hand, suppressing the urge to seize her shoulders and shake sense back into her. “Even if that were true, I am not changed toward you.”

To his horror, she pulled away, shaking her head.

“Dearest?”

She flinched as if the word struck her. “Our agreement was made long ago. When we were poor and in love and content to remain so.”

“I was a boy, then,” he scoffed.

“And I loved that boy!” She fell quiet for a moment, turning away from him when he reached for her. “But that boy is gone, and my heart aches for him. It is in his memory that I release you from our agreement.”

Until that moment, Aemond had nearly forgotten he had a heart. But her words shattered it, and pain wracked through his chest. Juvenile fear and distress took hold of him. He approached her, oblivious to her feeble attempts to move away, and took her in his arms. “Dearest, I do not understand. Have I ever sought release?”

“Not with words.”

“In what, then?”                     

She finally faced him again, and he knew he would never forget the horrible sight of her heartbreak and disdain – disdain for him. “In a changed nature and spirit. You do not look at me as you used to, Aemond. I used to feel beautiful when you looked at me, but now, I feel like a burden saddled upon you.”

“That is not true,” he begged.

“Tell me, honestly,” her gaze and voice steadied, even as tears spilled down her soft cheeks. “If you were to make the choice today, would you choose a dowerless girl?”

Aemond wanted to say no. But the world would not form. All he could say was, “You think not.”

The tension in her body vanished, her shoulders sagging and her head drooping. She looked up at him with despairing conviction. “With a full heart, for the love of who you once were, I release you.” She backed away from him, and his heart went with her. “May you be happy in the life you have chosen.”

She had only taken three steps away when he called her name, extending a hand to her.

But when she set her hand in his, he harshly pulled away.

He extended his hand once more. “My ring.”

It was her ring, he knew. It always was and always had been, even when he had forgotten about it. It was likely why, that night, he had thrown it carelessly into a dresser drawer to get it out of his sight. To forget the pain that had been contained within that strange, reddish stone.

But his maid had found it three days prior and given it to him, unleashing all that pain back into the heart-shaped hole in his chest. It was ruining him, that pain, clouding his mind and stealing away his better judgment.

“Aemond?” Cole’s voice was filled with annoyance. “Have your senses fled with the workers? What is wrong with you?”

Wrong? Nothing was wrong with him. Something was missing. She was missing. “Forgive me, Cole,” he said. “I must have eaten something odd. I’m afraid I am out of sorts.”

“Well, you’re no use like this. Go home. Come back all the earlier tomorrow, though!”

Aemond was already out the door, his coat only half-buttoned.

Home. He needed to go home, eat a hot meal, and go to bed early. Yes, a good rest would fix whatever had gone wrong inside him. He just needed to get home.

His feet didn’t take him home. They carried him to a place that he may once have called home but no longer. Equally traitorous, his hand raised in a fist to knock on the door he once would have entered without a second thought.

A cheering from beyond the door halted his movements, and Aemond moved to glance through the nearest window.

There she was. Just as radiant as he remembered. Even more so, for she smiled.

She smiled at the babe she held in her arms.

A babe who bore the same smile as its mother. But its eyes and hair were different. Those had been inherited not from its mother but from the father who stood behind the child and mother, looking on them both with unabashed adoration and pride.

Aemond had looked at her in much the same way, when he had been capable of feeling such things.

All the air left his chest. Had he ever been able to breathe? Perhaps he would die before he remembered how to. Part of him wanted to.

But somehow, he pulled enough air into his lungs to fuel his body as he walked across town to his own home. He ate his dinner, read the evening papers, and retreated to his bedroom. There, he readied himself for bed. Yes, a good night’s rest would cure him of this ailment.

He did not realize until he laid upon his bed that the cool metal of a chain rested against his skin.

If he could not bear his heart in his chest, he would wear it around his neck.

[epickiya722]

Quit throwing your pointless headcanons, you're not Gege Akutami, he made YutaMaki Canon. End of discussion, you and your shipping fandom are the worst, ignoring Canon stuff for the sake of stupid ships, NO ONE in Gege's work is gay, those are just sick and stupid headcanons, if you all are so pressed about making up stuff that you claim Gege making, show the proof. Show the proof where it says he stated everyone are gay come on. I dare you

Anon, come here. Come give me a hug, okay? You seem like you need it. Are you having a bad day or something? It's okay, we all have our bad days.

Now, Anon, if you saw my headcanons "pointless", why didn't you just ignore them?

You called me "pressed" but I'm not the one sending a raging message in someone's inbox over, what did you say, headcanons. Anon, I'm very disappointed in you, honestly.

You demand of me to show "proof" for my headcanons, but why? I genuinely don't understand why should I do that. They're headcanons, right? Based on feeling and interests, right? Why do I need evidence for feelings?

Now, I feel like it's only fair that you show me how that ship is canon. Maybe I read the wrong manga, but I didn't see them kiss or anything. Maki didn't even get mentioned in any of the epilogues that I can recall.

"Ignoring canon stuff for the sake of your stupid ships". Actually, Anon, a lot of why people ship is because of canon material. People ain't shipping NobaMaki out of nowhere. In canon, we literally have Maki and Nobara having that cute scene back in season 1. ShokoHime are freaking drinking buddies and are always happy to see each other. I could go all day about the canon stuff between ItaFushi and don't get me started on SatoSugu. Do not get me started!

Seriously, Anon, what could have I possibly have done to you to attack me? Rather aggressive, you know. It's actions like that is why shipping culture ain't getting better.

Think, Anon, think!

Which is worse? Someone posting their headcanons that could easily be ignored and scrolled past? Or someone sending angry messages to someone's inbox over said headcanons that again can be easily ignored?

I don't know about you, but I'm choosing the latter.

I'm guessing, just a guess now, you're one of those Yuta/Maki shippers who get mad that not everyone ships them, right? If like people should only stick to "canon" because "it's what's right, no gay"! On the side, maybe only acknowledges that "Maki loves Yuta and she's only meant to be his wife" and sees her as such and not the great female character she is? Hm?

In your spare time you purposely scroll through the tags of ships you "hate" to target people because maybe you're bored, want to start a little chaos? Feeling miserable that not everyone cares about your ship?

Again, just a guess.

I'm still trying to figure why you came at me all hostile. Like if your ship is "canon" you shouldn't feel threatened by anything I post about my ship. You "won", right? Why are you wasting time here and not celebrating? You can't allow me to suffer in sadness, oh woe is me, Gege didn't make my ship canon? By the way, that's sarcasm.

Unlike you, I'm not angry over people shipping whatever is canon and not canon. I'm rather more interested in posting about my ships. Rather be happy than angry. Try it, Anon. No, I am serious. I think of you stop worrying about what other people ship, you'll be genuinely happier.

Anyways, I hope you have a nice day! (˶ˆᗜˆ˵)

[hermanoga]

Vortex We Took Every Breath to Follow : Shiguang and Their Companionship Through Life and Beyond

@justfrolikin I hope this will be a suitable reply to the question you asked; what I think about the nature of the bond Shiguang share.

First, a few words from me :

Even though I love engaging in fandom spaces and enjoy ship fanarts, fanfictions etc, till today my heart truly belongs to a very few ships. Shiguang is one of them. As long as one is not blinded by homophobic delusions, I enjoy discussing any kind of interpretation of my OTPs, be it 'Platonic', just friends™, romantic or whatever. But I have a fixed category (which very ironically is not quite fixed if you read the whole discussion) that fulfills my idea of true love.

for me, Love is a dialogic discourse with your existential other.

The terms I used are very loaded terms; 'dialogue' and 'other' come from the Bakhtinian philosophy of ethics, 'discourse' is a Foucauldian term and existentialism has a long postmodern and post-structuralist philosophical tradition. The reason I LOVE Link Click is because of their postmodern lens and the narratives of the characters, not only the protagonists fundamentally question what is the real purpose of life? Why do human bondings matter? The answers reside in the simplest vignette of everyday life. Grief, trauma, hope, memory, reconciliation, remembrance, love, family - these are the central themes of Link Click. Lu Guang and Cheng Xiaoshi's separate existence and their interpersonal dialogue thematically and structurally complements the main ethos of Link Click.

When asked about the nature of Shiguang relationship Director Li Haoling answered : 是生死之交咯! (Shì shēngsǐ zhī jiāo gē! - It's a life and death relationship!)

source :

Fate, mortality, death, remembrance are the building blocks of their relationship as we perceive it.

Now let me talk about something. When I first watched Link Click on September 17th, 2024, the first Intertexual connection I drew was with another text called Waiting for Godot by Samuel Beckett. Funnily enough, early in this year I wrote a crossover Hamlet adaptation (and won the second prize in a competition hehe) interweaving a few elements from Godot. Time loop, fragmentation of time and space, panopticon with no exit - all these elements featured in that. I recommend Waiting for Godot to you all, you'll understand why it resonates so much with Link Click.

Now,

Lu Guang is a person who is shown to be a character who has some mysterious powers to manipulate time and space. Even from the very beginning, he has this dominant (and sometimes seemingly monologic that feels problematic to new viewers) voice with which he guides Cheng Xiaoshi through the dives. He is apparently headstrong and has acquired all kinds of praises ™ like hypocrite, selfish (lol) and what not. Again quoting Li Haoling "Lu Guang is a complex and delicate character." But after the release of 'The Eye' and 'The Lull', I think we are pretty sure that Lu Guang has been trapped in a rewind, like a Sisyphus figure. A friend of mine told me the other day, "Superficially, Lu Guang is presented as an archetypal strategist, the one who guides, the one who keeps things in control, but in reality, he has no agency whatsoever." Lu Guang lacks the fundamental agency in life (we all do but we have to accept it one day or other) and that mortifying realisation comes to him with the death of Cheng Xiaoshi. What is unacceptable to him is the most obvious outcome of a mortal life : death. Lu Guang's tragic flaw stems from this unacceptability of Cheng Xiaoshi's death and him attempting to manipulate time, very Sisyphus of him. Till now, we are yet to see Lu Guang's character traits without any reference to Cheng Xiaoshi but this does not reduce his character depth. His denial is actually very delicious ( I almost wrote a paper on this, taking the popular sci-fi trope of time travel as an allegorical and symbolic means of resistance and subversion but anyway, it's not relevant here)

Lu Guang's character makes me fall in love with the song Flash by Gorilla Attack. It is from Lu Guang's character, no one can convince me otherwise.

Just a loop A bored 'n loop Should I do this now 'til the end? Into the story As just an extra You are the reason I live But you don't remember me? Oh, can I be with you?

And

The only thing that I got, just like a little lamp I gotta go in one-way smoke Resist the lifeless scenario Become the person The person I wished for that day The room like a coffin, too bright A groove that I lost faraway Blanket, I need a blanket Not a synthetic one Notice the regret engraved so hard

And the line that keeps coming back as a haunting refrain :

Flash me, flash me Gotta get the power to rewrite I just wanna deny, I just wanna rewrite, yeah

Every time I listen to this song, these lines send a chill down my spine. But Lu Guang's obsession with 'rewrite' echoes with what my professor said to be Hamlet's constant meta-theatrical discomfort with the script, role, play he has been provided with. He does not comply with the playwright's words. Apart from time and death, I think Lu Guang's most wretched enemy is Li Haoling himself. That's why he constantly wants to 'rewrite', but all he has got till now is 'rewind'. Now whether his 'urge to rewrite' will turn into a successful 'write back' is the central play of the plot we are looking up to. What is my personal opinion on the ending?

The ending which is so dryly plausible in our real world is Lu Guang accepting his defeat and carries within him the remembrance of Cheng Xiaoshi.

But my question is, my brother in Buddhism Li Haoling, why the fuck would I watch your Link Click to know that death is the node that can't be changed? Is it not the given fact? It's a cultural text, however modern or postmodern a text might be, it ultimately uses the plot to defamiliarise and convey well known concepts and emotions with a critical engagement. A plot is just a vehicle, a crucial one, to help us have a greater and more nuanced vision of life. Due to non-linear narrative and active subversion of chronotope, complex plot will have plot twists and cliffhangers BUT it still has to perform a crucial, non negotiable role - the arc. If the beginning point and the ending point have the same temperaments, what kind of significance will it even achieve?

If Lu Guang can't write back at the end of Link Click, the structure of the plot will be like this :

1. Exposition, rising action : Cheng Xiaoshi died at the very beginning, Lu Guang is fucked.

2. Climactic stage : shit and shit and complex quantum physics, hallelujah hot villains, 'I am a great writer I can kill any character TeeeHeeeeHeeee', backstories, parallel narratives, foil characters have no relevance and rendered completely meaningless,

3. Falling action and resolution : Cheng Xiaoshi is still dead to the very ending, Lu Guang is still fucked.

No catharsis, not a milimeter of displacement from the beginning point.

What is the fucking point?! From the perspective of a writer and a critical reader, I can say it will be a sheer waste of money, time and potential. I would rather watch... whatever.

The friend I mentioned before told me, " You know why Emma or Chen Bin die? They had to die. Emma had a loving family, she got the job she wanted, she had her hardships but she didn't begin with tragedy. And when tragedy came, she was so not ready to negotiate the problem and considered self-annihilation as her first choice. She actively erased the possibility of dialogue with herself. If Emma were an orphan, struggling with unemployment and other hardships from the very beginning, I don't think Emma would die that easily. Emma was denied the conflict of life which very ironically tests human agency itself."

And for Chen Bin...during my first watch, the moment I saw him my instincts told me he was going to die. He had a loving wife, a daughter, he loved her, she accepted the proposal and they married soon. Conflict where? To bring his story to a full circle, he had to die.

I can say every parallel story in Link Click can be judged from this lens. People who had a point of conflict (the noodle lesbians, the couple who lost their child, Xu Shanshan, that old man) engaged in dialogue with themselves, others and social forces ultimately got a happy ending. Even in the earthquake episode, it's a story of reconciliation with the past, the man got his mother's photos and it's plausible and satisfying (and bittersweet resolution). He got his (absent) father back.

Another thing, we as a fandom have a collective amnesia about....*drumrolls* Cheng Xiaoshi's character! Congratulations! The man, the freaking protagonist just dies at the beginning, accepts his death, and remains dead. Doomed yaoi allegations are just nonsense. Link Click is doomed if Shiguang doesn't get a happy ending. Link Click is NOT a dramatic monologue told from Lu Guang's perspective, engaging with his perpetual trance of melancholy and him holding onto Cheng Xiaoshi's memento mori.

If Lu Guang is attempting to write back to Li Haoling and the doomed yaoi allegations, Cheng is attempting to write back to Lu Guang himself, not in confirming his own death, but saving Lu Guang from the loop of eternity and by being together. Cheng Xiaoshi is always seen to be guided by Lu Guang, he has to witness repercussions of his actions. Even with all this knowledge I will say, Cheng Xiaoshi has way more agency than Lu Guang has. During my first watch, I could feel Lu Guang has this barrier of guilt and unsettled emotions wrapped around him which denies Cheng Xiaoshi access into the deepest core of his subjectivity. Even though he achingly wishes to be together with Cheng Xiaoshi, the burden of his past actions and PTSD holds him back from being together with him, as if his existence is antithetical to Cheng Xiaoshi's existence. Cheng Xiaoshi is that glitch in the matrix that messes up Lu Guang's plans of withdrawing himself from Cheng Xiaoshi. Cheng Xiaoshi should not listen to everything Lu Guang orders. In season 1, he mostly conforms to Lu Guang's ideals, but in season 2, when Lu Guang was hospitalised, Cheng Xiaoshi became more active and you could tell a layer of barrier melted away. He was less of a stone statue, showed more emotions (the S2ep1 lmao when he said "would you prefer if I die?" abhimaan we call it), then the unique high five that feels like Lu Guang accepting Cheng Xiaoshi's proposal or something :

(LMAO ignore my comments, but what I said is true)

My point is, Cheng Xiaoshi is Lu Guang's existential other and vice versa. They cannot live without each other. They cannot exist without each other. If one dies, the other will die and I want them living happily ever after in heaven. Cause 'Break' clearly depicts them as soulmates. I personally take Break as the ultimate canonical ending

Do you see? each of them has one wing missing, meaning that it's their cumulative effort that will make them fly successfully. FYI, there is another Haoling directed, Haoliners Animation League animated canonical queer donghua called 'Beryl and Sapphire'. A separate episode, episode 13 just explores this 'one wing soulmate trope'.

Now take them as friends, platonic friends with no erotic feelings, pure familial feelings or whatever, they are like Yin and Yang, like Shiv and Shakti, and Yin changes to Yang and Yang changes to Yin actively as they interact. You will have a hard time pointing out who is who. I have watched TGCF and Beryl and Sapphire and a tiny bit of Spiritpact - all three directed by Li Haoling and I am well aware of his narrative strategy to represent soulmates and Link Click seems to be the one of the greatest (and my favourite) product of that genius mind.

I began with team Lu Guang cause he is a scorpio, I understand him, his birthday almost coincides with mine, we share some identical issues. But the fandom's often yeeting Cheng Xiaoshi out of the narrative phenomenon brought back my due attention to him. Is Cheng Xiaoshi so willing to be doomed? Does he not yearn to be with Lu Guang? Let me whisper to your ear...he yearns for him too.

so he

does understand that the person who dies...dies, death affects them the least who dies, it's the people, the family and loved ones who actually suffer. This man will leave his Lu Guang on his own volition? eh.

Also I wanna talk about Link Click's strategy of deliberate misdirection. The first and second seasons are so deliberately crafted (manipulation of narrative you can say) to actively erase Lu Guang's subjectivity and nuance. We are just denied access his perspective. He is mysterious but not that aligns itself with a viewer's emotions. In fact, during my recent re-watch, I felt "wtf Lu Guang, why are you interacting with Cheng Xiaoshi like a straight dudebro?" He is a menace, the kind I usually don't like. But there also seemed to be a critical undercurrent which I couldn't really grasp, but it was surely there. It was adding up to my increasing discomfort and made me question - "was it just my wishful projection? they do not share that bond at all." I was so pissed at that thought that I almost decided I am not gonna abandon Link Click. BUT BRO, BRO

'The Eye' and 'Lull' just blew my mind. I was not that affected by Cheng Xiaoshi's corpse advertisement agenda (that corpse is drawing people's attention who is suddenly aware of Yingdu release, great tactic, Haoling) what pleasantly brought me out of despair is Lu Guang's love for Cheng Xiaoshi was acknowledged in these songs. You will read between the lines on your own in season 1 and season 2 if you have that critical method to engage with a cultural text, but the silencing narrative was also very prominent. I very much felt that the Shiguang story is actually the central action, and not the creative sci-fi archtexual exercise of genres, which again, is just the vehicle. But The Eye and Lull focus upon them, them and them. Their emotions are acknowledged, they are no longer behind the veils of symbolism, parallel narratives, intense defamiliarisation; their emotional dialogue now not only demands a voice of their own but also has the potential to reclaim the central part of the stage as they struggle and negotiate power and agency. And I am here for it.

@guangshi-091305 I present to you my rubbish.

[rooksunday]

fluffcember day twenty four: hot bath

took an alternate prompt for today. this follows from day 13: fire and ice.

fox ran his fingers along the rim of the metal tub, eyeing it—and its contents—dubiously. the frozen figure within the tub had been swaddled in every towel they could scrounge from around coruscant guard hq, and shiv had sent her medic assistants to start heating water.

“are you sure this is the correct procedure? it feels… primitive,” fox said, his fingers curled around the tub.

the figure inside had no comment to make, of course. they hadn’t said anything since fox had recovered their pod from the abandoned ship. they hadn’t done anything but breathe, and even that had been a surprise to fox and the rest of the recovery team.

looking up from her datapad, shiv gave fox her least impressed look. she had quite the range: this particular one made fox feel like a cadet with his flightsuit on backwards. he shifted in place and withdrew his hand, tucking it behind his back.

“not that i’m a medic,” he said, to save shiv from saying it.

a snort came from behind fox, where medic gristle was attending to something or other, but as fox didn’t actually see them, he didn’t have to charge them with insubordination.

shiv, standing barefaced and unimpressed in full sight, wasn’t worth the headache.

she nodded, as if in agreement with fox’s internal concession, and returned to her datapad.

“we don’t know how long your friend has been in stasis for, and i couldn’t find the model of their pod on the holonet. bringing them to a warmer temperature gradually will likely be less catastrophic than dunking them through a standard thaw sequence.” she gestured toward the patient in the shallow tub, where gristle had begun to slowly pour warm water in. “hence, the bath.”

“i thought immersion was bad for hypothermia. we covered that in emergency flash training.” fox was reasonably sure they had, though admittedly there hadn’t been much call for using said training on coruscant. he might’ve misremembered.

note to self: check training refresh with thorn.

“for hypothermia, yes. for stasis?” shiv shrugged in an fashion that was not reassuring. “well, they can’t get any worse off.”

“they could die.”

that seemed worse off to fox. but he wasn’t a medic, so what did he know?

a nudge to his arm had fox moving aside to make way for gristle, who delivered a typically placid look at fox.

“we’ll look after them, sir. you have my word.”

“let me know if—“

“we’ll let you know,” shiv interrupted, saving fox from voicing his fears. she waved a hand at him. “do run along and get out of my medbay, will you? you’re messing up the place.”

fox wondered briefly if cody had to contend with similar bullying from his medics.

probably.

fox got.

three days later, a message arrived on fox’s comm. your freeze-dried nattie is ready for pick-up.

fox dragged himself up from the chancellor’s office floor and went to see what problems he’d caused himself.

three days after that, fox had the distinct pleasure of introducing bucky barnes, formerly frozen soldier from a planet fox had never heard of, from a time he didn’t believe existed, to the 773 firepuncher sniper rifle and a quiet spot with sightlines to the senate floor.

three minutes later, all of fox’s problems disappeared in one beautiful shot.

[mythica0]

Rewarding revenge

🎂: epic the musical

🧁: Hermes

🍫:Odysseus

Summary: Hermes has tickled Odysseus one too many times for his liking. Time for a little payback.

A/N; thank you to the anon who gave me this idea! If you see this I hope it’s to your liking! I’m not super proud of the ending but whatever. Also, yay, more shameless lee Hermes! Enjoooyyy :3

Cw: mild swearing, really intense tickles! (But don’t worry, he enjoys every second of it.)

Rewarding revenge

It was another day on the ship, and Odysseus was thinking.

He had just had another interaction with Hermes a few days prior, and like he usually did, Hermes had decided to tickle the shit out of him.

While he didn’t.. hate it.. it was still annoying, and he wanted a bit of revenge.

So, he sent up a hopefully non-conspicuous prayer to summon Hermes.

When Hermes got the message, simply asking to hang out, he was definitely suspicious, but also amused and endlessly curious. So, he decided to go. Might be fun, after all! And Hermes is always up for some fun.

So, later that evening, when Odysseus was spending some time in his room, Hermes appeared.

“Hey, friend! I got your little prayer!”

Odysseus was honestly a little shocked that worked. He sat up in his bed, gently patting the space next to him.

“Ah, Hermes! Come, sit!”

Hermes smiled brightly and sat next to the soldier. “Well, how do you do?”

“Ah, I’m well. You?”

“I’m good as well! I must say, it’s not often I get a request just to hang out! I’m quite delighted you wished to spend time with me!”

Odysseus chuckled a bit. “Ah, well, you’ve been nice to me, and you’re pleasant enough company.”

“I know I am, thanks for noticing!” Hermes winked, playfully posing in a showy manner.

Odysseus laughed. He had summoned Hermes for ulterior motives, but he actually was quite funny.

He scooted a little closer, hoping Hermes wouldn’t notice. Hermes did notice, but he pretended he didn’t. He was curious! Wanted to see where this was going.

“So, what did you want to talk about, friend?” Hermes asked, still grinning.

“Ah, nothing in particular. Just whatever comes to mind.”

“I see, just a causal chat! Always love one of those- I’m quite the conversationalist!”

The joking remark got another laugh out of Odysseus, which caused Hermes to grin proudly. He was always happy to make someone laugh.

“That you are.” Odysseus got a little closer again.

“did you have free time to come down here? Or are you skipping out on your duties?” Ody asked, a playfully teasing tone to his voice.

“Hmm, not telling~” Hermes shrugged and then sing-songed in response.

Odysseus laughed again. “So you are skipping out? I mean, I imagine you’re quite the busy god, with all the various domains you have.”

“True! But I’m also quite speedy, don’t you forget! Nah, I had some time.” Hermes revealed with a laugh if his own.

“Ah, well that’s good. Wouldn’t want to distract you from your job, now would we?”

“That we would not.” Hermes laughed again, his little squeaky giggle.

Odysseus posed a question, seemingly out of nowhere. “So, Hermes- do you like to laugh?”

Hermes seemed a little surprised at the sudden question, but answered nonetheless. He had a feeling this might be why he was actually summoned.

“Why, of course I do! Who doesn’t?”

“Ah, that’s good. Let me help you with that!” Without any further warning, the captain snapped his arms around the god and started to scribble against his ribs.

Hermes immediately bursted into happy giggles, not trying to hold back in the least.

“Ehehehe- Ohohody! Ahahaha!” He called a bit, squirming slightly.

“What’s wrong? Can’t take what you dish out?”

“Ehehehehehaha! Ohoho, thahat tihihickles! Ehehehe!” Hermes giggles were bubbly and almost childish in nature, such a purely joyful sound that it made Odysseus laugh along with it.

“Ha! It’s about time I got a little payback!”

Hermes could easily get out of this. Easily. He was very powerful, after all. But he didn’t want to, and he wasn’t ashamed to admit it. But. He wanted to see if Ody could figure it out on his own.

“So, how’s it feel to be on the other end, huh?”

“Tihihickly!” Hermes snarked, an obvious statement, for amusement. It worked as intended, getting a small amused huff from Odysseus.

“Well no shit, Sherlock. That’s the point.”

To accentuate his words, Odysseus moved his hands to Hermes’ tummy, starting to press lightly on the surface.

Hermes giggles immediately increased in pitch, such a joyful, silly, sugar-sweet sound that Odysseus couldn’t help but laugh along. 

“Eeehahahahaha ohoho nohoho, dohohont doho thahat- ehehehehehe!”

“You know, you could probably escape easily if you really wanted to.” Odysseus commented, successfully realizing the thing Hermes wasn’t even trying to hide.

“Ihihi knohow! Ehehehehe!”

“So, why aren’t you? Do you perhaps like this?”

Hermes nodded, gleeful and giddy as he laughed. “Yehehehehes! Ehehahahahaha-! Tohook yohou lohong ehenohough toho fihigure ohout!” Hermes teased slightly, never one to hold his tongue.

“Oh, really? Are you in any position to give me sass?” Odysseus teased, getting far more into the role now that he knew his friend was enjoying it. He pressed down harder, vibrating clawed hands into Hermes’ stomach.

Hermes squealed, a bouncy, bubbly laugh falling freely from his chest. “Eeee! Ahahahaha thahahat reheheally tihihickles ehehehehehe!”

“Good. Maybe that’ll teach you not to sass me.” Odysseus didn’t let up, still pressing vibrating claws into the god’s belly, making him laugh giddily, his wings flapping slightly.

Odysseus’ eyes followed the motion of the white feathers, and he smirked. He took one hand and moved it up, grabbing one of the wings behind his ears and starting to rub the feathers in between his fingers.

Hermes squealed, a high pitched laugh leaving him. “EEEE! NOHOHOHO-! NOHOHOT THEHE WIHINGS!”

“Oh? Not the wings? Not these little wings right here?” Seeing how horribly it tickled the god, Odysseus brought up his other hand to grab the matching wing in the other side and do the same thing.

Hermes was completely lost to his laughter, chest and stomach shaking from the force of it as small tears formed in his eyes. That tickled so! Bad!

“EEEHAHAHA PLEHEHEASE, OHOHODYYY!” His laughter was squeaky and happy, and Odysseus found that it got more and more contagious the longer it went on, not being able to stop himself from laughing along.

“Hehe, that’s a pretty contagious laugh you’ve got there.”

Hermes was too busy laughing and squirming to reply, his sanity starting to slip in the best way from the ticklish sensation. It was driving him mad, unrelenting tingles racing across his wings and causing fluttering laughter to swarm in his belly.

“What’s wrong? Too ticklish to speak?” Odysseus emphasized the word with a teasing lilt, causing a slight blush to form on Hermes’ face.

The room was filled with the happy, bubbly giggles of the god of messages, squealing laughter echoing from him as his very sensitive wings were assaulted with happy, tingly sensations.

“EEE OHODY PLEHEHEHEASEE!” He begged through his loud, squeaky laughter, only partially true. Because he could probably get away if he really wanted to, although it might be harder considering how weak he was from laughter.

Odysseus just chuckled. “Tickle tickle tickle~” he spoke with a teasing lilt, and he could swear that Hermes squeaked at the words.

Hermes was overwhelmed but at the same time so happy. The tickles were driving him crazy and he didn’t even care, because it was so much fun, sending waves of pure joy through him with every wheezing laugh, every contraction of the muscles in his tummy and sides. Tears of joy had fallen at the point, trailing past the shaded boundary from his helmet.

“EEHAHAHA OHODY PLEHEHEASE STAHAHAP! EHEHEHEHEE!”

“I don’t know.. you tickled me first. Twice.”

“IHIM SOHORRRYYY PLEHEHEHEASEE!”

He was absolutely hysterical with laughter, face starting to hurt from being stretched into such a wide smile for so long. His thoughts were so foggy, his brain thoroughly turned to mush from happiness that he couldn’t even think straight enough to use his powers to get away. He loved it so much but at the same time he couldn’t take anymore!

Sensing that Hermes was getting a little overwhelmed, Odysseus decided to give him a small breather, just lightly tapping against his hips to keep him giggling.

Hermes took the chance to greedily take in air, letting his warm face cool down.

“Hehehehehe.. ohoho myhy gohods.. ehehehe- thahat wahahas aha lohot.”

“Oh, did you think we were done? Oh no no no, I don’t plan on stopping any time soon. I want you to be an absolute puddle of laughter by the time I’m through.”

Hermes eyes sparkled with excitement, hidden by the shade of his helmet, a few giddy giggles falling from him. He was honestly excited by the idea, even though he had just been wrecked within an inch of his life, he still wanted more.

Ody smirked as he saw the excitement ripple through the god of speed. “Oh, what was that~? Did that excite you?”

Hermes nodded, still unashamed for his love of being tickled.

Odysseus chuckled in response, before responding with a teasing lilt that caused more giddy butterflies to flutter within Hermes, making him giggle more than he already was from the light taps on his hips.

“Any last words before I make you hysterical again~?”

Hermes thought for a moment, before shaking his head, eager to get on with it.

Odysseus nodded and then started with kneading his tummy, making him burst into giddy laughter immediately.

“Ahahahahahaha! YohOU ahahare reheheally gohood ahat thahahat- EE!” He complained and complimented at the same time, half protesting but not really meaning a word of it.

“Oh, why thank you!” He grinned smugly, and then, just to be evil, he moved his hands to attack Hermes’ underarms and started to blow raspberries all over his belly.

“OHOHO NOHO- EEE! Dohohont dohoho THahahAT-!”

Odysseus felt his inner father emerging, putting on a sort of playful act and making silly noises as he blew raspberry after raspberry onto the messenger’s tummy, using his beard to add an extra layer of ticklishness.

“Omnomnom! This belly is really tasty!” He made little growling and nomming sounds, which made Hermes laugh even harder from amusement at the silly act.

Hermes was absolutely hysterical with laughter, kicking his feet slightly to try and expel the intense giddy energy rippling through him. Each raspberry sent waves of laughter and tingles across his belly, and it didn’t go away. It lingered, and then layered with each new raspberry or nibble, growing more and more ticklish as time went on. Hermes was crying with laughter and happiness, the feeling so intense and so amazing.

He squeaked and squealed as Odysseus blew a raspberry on his lower tummy, then on each side, then right over his bellybutton, then on his ribs, all over his torso, leaving waves upon waves of giddy tingles.

“AHahahahahHEHA! Ihihit tihihickles sohoho BaHAD EhehehehEHEHAHA!” His chest and stomach were shaking and bouncing from his laughter, the wide, giddy smile never leaving his face, his genuine happiness being contagious to Odysseus.

Odysseus chuckled as well, unable to stop himself at hearing the silly, contagious sound of Hermes’ laughter. He decided to lower the intensity for a bit, moving his hands down to start scribbling behind his knees.

Hermes kicked slightly on instinct, but he didn’t try to truly escape. His hysterical, squeaky laughter died down to giggles again, allowing him to take in air.

“Ehehehehe ohoho myhyhy! Ehehe- ihihi cahahant breheheathe- hoholy moholy..” Hermes breathed out through his giggles, taking in breaths and still feeling so giddy.

Odysseus gave him a chance to breathe for a moment, wiggling his fingers behind his knees and tracing around his ankles, before managing to pry his sandals away from his feet slightly, and scratching gently at the soles.

Hermes giggles increased, not nearly as hysterical as it was earlier, but definitely more than it was from the more gentle tracing.

“EhHahHaha ohohohody plehehehease! Ehehehehe!”

“Oh, come on. We both know you don’t actually want me to stop.”

Hermes nodded again. He really didn’t. He protested, yes, but he didn’t mean any of it. It was only instinct, the natural reaction to such intense tickles, even though he enjoyed every second.

After a few more moments, Ody smirked and turned to look at Hermes, speaking with a teasing, taunting tone.

“I’m gonna get your wings~” he sing-songed, scratching at the edge of his ankle, right before where the wings met.

Hermes frantically protested, a giddy nervousness filling his chest and stomach. “Nonononohoho!”

“Yes yes yes~ these soft, little wings are gonna get tickled~”

A faint blush dusted Hermes’ face at the teasing words, so many butterflies and zaps of giddy, nervous excitement rushing through him as the anticipation drove him up the wall.

“Are you ready~”

“Nohoho!” Hermes protested again, even though he would much rather the soldier get it over with rather than deal with this anticipation.

Odysseus smirked again, responding instantly and with a faux lack of sympathy. “Too bad.”

Without any pause, he grabbed each wing on one leg and started to scribble against the feathers, scratching at the base of the wings.

Hermes was once again immediately thrown into heavy , hysterical laughter. “EEHAHAHA! OHOHO MYHYHY GOHODS- NOHOHOT THEHEHEHERE! EEEE!”

Odysseus chuckled again, the contagious laughter fully infecting him. “Oh my, quite ticklish here, are we~?”

Hermes blushed a bit more at the teasing, the fluster only adding to the ticklish experience, if you asked him.

His free wings on the other ankle flapped frantically, drawing the king’s attention.

“Well, would you look at that. It seems like your left set of wings is feeling a little left out.”

“NohOhOHO-! PLEHEHEHEASE!”

“Please tickle your other wings? Why of course!” He taunted, switching sides.

He once again pinched and rubbed the feathers in between his fingers, making Hermes toss his head back as fits of laughter racked his whole body.

He got such an evil thought just then, leaning to one of the wings being his ears and blowing a huge raspberry right on it.

Hermes squealed with laughter once again, absolutely hysterical as mirthful tears dampened his face.

“NOHOHO- EEEEEHAHAHAHAHA! IHIHI CAHAHANT HOHOLY MOHOLY-EEHAHAHAHA!”

Hermes was in absolute ticklish agony, his whole torso quivering with the force of his hysterical laughter from the blissful torture. It was absolutely horrible and yet he loved it so much, rushes of euphoria filling him with every laugh, every raspberry on his wings, every overwhelming ticklish touch.

After only a minute or so of that, Odysseus stopped completely with a final wiggle in his bellybutton, leaving Hermes gasping for air in between fits of residual giggles.

He wiped his eyes under his helmet from the tears of laughter, his face still split in two from his wide smile.

“Ahahahaha.. wohohoah.. yohou’re reheheally gohood ahahat thahahat… ehehehehe…”

Odysseus chuckled a bit. “Yeah, I really did a number on you, didn’t I?”

Hermes nodded, still giggling and trying to cool his breathing and blushing face.

“Are you alright? I didn’t go too far, did I?”

Hermes shook his head slightly. “No, Noho, yohou’re ahalrihihight. That was greheheat.”

“Man, you really like being tickled, don’t you?”

“Yeheheah! It’s fun to laugh like thahat.. ehehehe.”

“Well, I’m glad to have provided that for you.”

“Thahank yohou, daharling.”

“No problem!”

After another minute or so, Hermes finally stopped giggling, and dusted himself off before standing.

“Well, I best be off. I do have a job to do! But don’t be afraid to send a message whenever you want to hang! This was splendid!”

Odysseus chuckled a bit. “And you dont be afraid to come down and ask me for tickles anytime you want.”

Hermes giggled a bit in response. “I’ll keep that in mind. Ta-ta darling!~”

“See ya round!”

And with that, Hermes flew off, leaving with a light heart and a wide smile.

———THE END———————————————————-

[harleiquina]

Hey! I'm late for the party (because being overworked and underpaid sucks and always ends up in burnout -not fully recovered as of now, just with spare time because its Christmas, I'm working and nobody is calling so I can delve in Tumblr as much as my heart desires-).

First of all... I wrote my original reply around 2 or 3 am because my dog woke me up and I couldn't fall asleep again. So probably I had a point and eventually lead to something else because... sleepy brain goes brr.

About the writing

It is true that between saying it or just leave it out the text, leaving it out of the text is the safer option. There is also the posibility that it was planting an idea that never truly came to be so it is just dangling there with no other purpose... it happened to me a few times that I plant a seed of something in a story and then completely forget about it and sometimes I remember and remove it. I don't know how the time frame and due dates are in the process of creating a comic (if it was written arch per arch or if NG had all planned out and later came up with the different issues) but I guess that is they were going issue per issue -writing, drawing, coloring, formating and eventually printing it- there weren't many options to go back and fix something that didn't worked.

And yes... these were the '90s so... there isn't much to do about it.

In the end of the day, Sandman isn't Hob's story. Maybe there was a chance that if audiences liked him enough there could've been a limited run series of him through time and it didn't happened maybe there was a plan to do so but audiences preffered Death over him (can't blame them). Then the audience could've see him after his meeting with Morpheus and maybe growing a backbone eventually to stop his bussiness with the Slave Trade. We will never know.

Shipping and willingfully-ignorant fans

I'm not into shipping either (I'm not going to deny that in any fandom some edits or fanarts are cute) and in this particular case, even if I understand from where it comes from... I'm so done with it. Maybe if instead of casting the son they would've gone with the father things wouldn't have gone that far 🤣

Mischaracterization is a common phenomena in any fandom, sometimes it could be the main shtick to the plot of one pice of fanfic but when the bee-hive fandom accepts it as official headcanon there is no turning back and you just have to ignore it.

Had fandom had a more accurate-looking Hob they might've reacted differently. I haven't read the comics but I've seen a few panels... and he kind of grosses me out. There is no question there that he was on any easy-way to do money (thief, soldier, slave trader) with little to no remorse. But shippers only see what they want to see and leave any kind of nuance flies out the window.

There are (possibly) many fanfic writers that took Hob's dark past (in general) and did created well grounded stories where he gets to reflect on what he's done and how to atone for it. But fluff is fluff and it gets more views. And I think that's the root of it all... some people just want a cozy coffe-shop AU because they are only in there for the romance, others want to read something that will make them question either the character or themselves, analize how certain events played out or could happen. Pretty much as with movies you have the blockbusters, the historic dramas, the romance and an audience for each one of them.

It might feel like some of them are glossing over a very serious subject that should be treated with respect however there is a different place to tackle those subjects on... hopless romantic fanfics are not the right place.

However there is also those who go full "he did nothing wrong" and this could stem from both options: people who are racist themselves, or people that has no idea of what it being a part of the Slave Trade really means. Given that History is so far back, is easy to "forget" or even imagine the living conditions back then. Of course, those who have grandparents or greatgrandparents that have experienced it in the flesh will not let it fly.

In the end of the day it all depends on whoever is reading. They can be affected by it, shocked, outraged or not... that's how Art works and none of us has the right moral compass to tell others if they should be ashamed or not.

We can tell them to knock it off or at least tag properly, but thats an entirely different can of worms 🤣

Hob Gadling’s Involvement in the Transatlantic Slave Trade between the 16th and 19th Century

The Fallacy of (clumsily written) Racial Reconciliation or: Is show/Hob really different from comics!Hob

I originally wrote this a while back as a reply to someone else’s post, but since we’ve been discussing “Men of Good Fortune” (comics) and “The Sound of Her Wings” (Netflix) in our community over the past weeks, I’ve expanded on a few points of my original thoughts.

This post discusses difficult topics, systemic racism, questions of social (in)justice and problematic angles in writing. If that’s not your thing, this is the exit sign…

A question that comes up quite frequently is the following:

Is show!Hob different from comics!Hob?

Hob’s conversation with Dream in 1789 (and not just 1789) in the show has been significantly altered (compared to the comics), and it makes it tempting to believe this somehow makes him different regarding the more problematic side of his character.

In the comics, we have a bit of dialogue in 1789 that shows how deeply involved in the slave trade Hob was: “I sort of started it,” said with a hint of, dare I say, pride? And then brushing off Dream’s concerns by saying, “It’s a living.” Twice.

(They changed this to, “It’s just how it’s done”, and a shrug in the show.)

And it’s true: If this had been integrated into the show, it would have painted him in an even worse light. However, I personally think it was the wrong move to leave it out (Ferdinand Kingsley carefully voiced something along those lines as well btw). Because now the show pushed Hob’s whole involvement in the slave trade much more into the direction of, “Oopsie.”

Can we truly take leaving out the above dialogue as a hint that Hob might be a better person in the show? I’d like to really reflect on that--leaving out those comments can’t make him a better person. Even if we change his arc slightly and he “wasn’t that involved.” You’re involved, or you aren’t. There is no, “I tried a bit of slave trading and decided it wasn’t for me.” One could even argue it makes the angle of the show more problematic because it makes the slave trade a “little blip” in his timeline. Things like that can’t be a blip. I personally think the writers made a mistake here, but that’s obviously just my opinion.

If there wasn’t enough space in the show to expand on it (which I get for a side character), I feel they should have left out the slavery arc completely instead of keeping, but then minimising it (that might sound contradictory, but it only does if you don’t look at it too closely). It already didn't sit right with me 30 years ago to use slavery as a side note for showing a white person’s character development without properly examining the damage caused, and it still doesn't sit right with me now. It makes the plight of PoC a plot vehicle to centre white people’s guilt, and I always thought that’s a blind spot only white people have (and I’m white myself, to get that out of the road straightaway).

I’m not saying it couldn’t or shouldn’t have been used narratively. Or that you can’t show remorse and atonement/redemption for the most heinous acts (that’s not the same as forgiveness—I’ll get to that). Or that characters who have committed said acts are irredeemable. But it would have needed to be fleshed out instead of making it a comment in passing. Many books and movies do exactly that. But the point is that it’s never been fleshed out.

“But they had to shorten and streamline it…”—just no. Because to me (and ofc people are free to disagree), that exactly proves the point—centring the white guy while sidelining the people who suffer. I am a bit doubtful we’ll get anything remotely appropriate in the show after what we’ve already seen. Only time will tell, so I’m withholding final judgment at this point. Fact is: It is uncomfortable to watch for people with any sensitivity on the matter.

And yet, there is a lot of focus on leaving out Hob voicing his regret in 1889, since that (again) “would have painted him in a better light.”

While simultaneously regularly failing to mention that he proudly proclaimed he “invented” the triangle trade. Can we really pick and choose his traits like that? Hob is a materialistic opportunist who also has some regrets. That doesn’t mean he can’t exist as a character, or that we’re not allowed to like him (morally grey characters are often the most compelling ones). We don’t need to sanitise him though, or try to erase his problematic traits from canon. The same goes for other characters (yes, I’m looking at you, Dream, and I’m sure we’ll get to that very soon—in fact, we’re possibly starting tomorrow 🫣). If we are talking about Hob’s remorse, we are probably mostly thinking about Sunday Mourning, so I need to bring in issue #73 at this point (this is your spoiler warning if you don’t want to read ahead).

The Fallacy of Racial Reconciliation

Very plainly:

A black woman is used as a vehicle to forgive Hob. And said black woman has been written by a white male author for that sole purpose without giving her anything else to do. I personally think NG got that wrong. It was clumsy and insensitive to POC, and I really hope they change this for the show. It’s a fact that he really wasn’t good with writing black female characters in the whole run—they all get fridged in one way or another, and he even admits it in the Sandman Companion. And then turns around and basically implies that it's all okay now because “nothing bad” happens to Gwen once Morpheus is dead. She is allowed to be a vehicle for the character development of a white guy though. It’s just really insensitive, and I sincerely hope they don't put it in the show this way. And I’m glad that we're seeing hints it might not happen--at least the casting in the show hints at it (from Lucienne, Death and Rose to very likely turning Carla into a white man—we already met Carl, and that’s who he is IMHO).

There is also the not so small fact that Hob is, even in his guilt and shame (shame is always about yourself, and that’s actually very in keeping with his character), not honest with Gwen. The thing about him basically inventing the triangle trade, which he so proudly proclaimed in 1789?

The English who were so good at it? The “Jack” Hawkins he talked about in 1789? That’s actually this dude:

And Hob funded him 200 years before 1789, and enabled Hawkins. Hob was involved in what became the transatlantic slave trade well before 1789–he already funded it when he had money in the 1500s.

He carried that mindset around with him for literal hundreds of years and saw nothing wrong with it until at least (! more about that in a sec) 1789. Dream had to rub his nose in it, otherwise it wouldn’t even have occurred to him (or did it, and he just chose to ignore it--see below).

Hob has been written as a stand-in for humanity, British Imperialism and England over the centuries—with all that entails.

So how honest is he with Gwen? And how long, even after 1789, was he still involved, even after abolition in England (Somerset vs. Stewart declared slavery unlawful in England in 1772, but that wasn't true for the rest of the British Empire. Buying and selling slaves was only made illegal in 1807, while owning slaves only became unlawful with the Abolition Act of 1833, and it took another year to buy out slave owners to actually make it happen)? Because there’s still this:

“It got worse when they did [outlaw the slave trade]. You only needed one voyage in three to make a profit. You could afford to dump your cargo if… you spotted a British Man o’ War.” How does he know? Why does he have these nightmares? We can take a guess…

That’s not someone who tried it for a couple of weeks and then thought, “Sorry, my bad.” That’s someone who has been opportunistically involved from the 1500s and potentially until after slavery was unlawful in England, which it already was when he talked to Dream in 1789. So does his feigned ignorance of, "It's a living/It's how it's done?" really hold? Especially if he potentially kept going, even after that convo with Dream? When I wrote "between the 16th and 19th Century" in the header, that's exactly what I meant...

Guilt and Shame

Yes, what we see above and in all the other panels is guilt and shame. And it reminded me of this:

And I’d encourage everyone to really listen to what Jasper has to say, and sit with the feelings it brings up. Because I can still remember watching this in the George Floyd aftermath for the first time, and how deeply uncomfortable it made me—because he’s right.

Black people/PoC do not need to forgive and absolve white people from their guilt. They can if they wish to, but that’s their choice, not ours. It’s not for white people to absolve other white people from their guilt around the oppression of PoC. And that’s why it could be argued it’s not for white people to write a black character to do that in their stead either (they can of course, but then they need to live with the fact that people will call them tone-deaf). It could also be argued it is something that cannot be forgiven retrospectively, and white people need to be okay with that. It can only be worked on in the present with a view to the future. And as Jasper also so rightly points out:

The guilt is not even helpful (at least Gwen has the right sentiment there, but it’s still falls incredibly flat over all), and shame only centres ourselves.

Forgiveness vs Redemption

Hob Gadling's regrets don't make everything he did forgivable. I think it actually does the story a disservice if that’s our main takeaway, because this is truly one of the bits of The Sandman that’s written in an extremely tone-deaf manner. NG isn’t the first author who did this, but we can take something good and helpful from this, and that’s engaging with these questions instead of brushing them under the carpet—because that’s what literary analysis is about.

It should be clear that I do see Hob Gadling as narratively important because I see him as a stand-in for humanity, and more specifically, English history. And there is really so much to learn from that.

Writers can get things narratively right but still be emotionally tone-deaf due to their own blind-spots. We don’t need to assume malice, but we also don’t need to leave it entirely unchallenged.

And because of that, we can certainly see Hob as someone who has to live with his conscience, and the consequences of his actions, for the rest of his life and struggles with that (as he should). And maybe we can see him as someone who is now, finally, trying to do the work. Because that is what atonement and redemption actually mean:

Taking action to rectify past wrongs. Actively working against the harm once caused, and preventing it from ever happening again. And I hope that’s what he does, and the signs are there (but there are also still signs that he values covering up his immortality higher than e.g. telling Gwen the truth. And we can find a million excuses for why that is, but ultimately, none of them truly matter).

However, it is not the same as forgiveness from the people we have wronged. Forgiveness is not a prerequisite to redemption, although it can be a part of it if the person who has been wronged chooses to extend it. But the people Hob wronged are dead, while their descendants still need to live with the pain people like Hob caused to this very day. So while I don’t see him as irredeemable, I don’t think he needs to, or even can, be forgiven—especially not by black people (unless they choose to. But it is also fine if they don’t, and again, we need to be okay with that). And we could say, “But Gwen chose to.” To that, I say:

I wonder what Gwen would have said if he had been truly honest with her (which he wasn’t, see below panels). That wouldn’t have been an embrace is my guess…

[feenmies]

rannett doodles i'm still suffering The illness sorry

[dykedvonte]

Curly had two days to act and Swansea had two months.

I think it’s just interesting that every defense of Swansea not immediately acting are the same ones that are argued against for Curly. “He didn’t want to alert Daisuke or makes things worse for Anya either Jimmy!” I mean people also assume that about Curly and the crew. “He has to think about his plan of action and a right moment!” Again so did Curly, power and authority aside, he still would have to think of what he had to do. “He makes sure he doesn’t have to be around Jimmy!” So did Curly and they only do this to an extent, both give Jimmy more than a few opening to keep harassing Anya.

This isn’t defense of Curly nor a damnation of Swansea. Their actions are very parallel to each others in tragic and sour ways when it comes to how they approached helping Anya. In the grand scheme of it all they both did the same thing: Nothing. No action either took stopped the inevitable outcome of her death nor Jimmy’s continued damage to themself.

The only real difference is Swansea didn’t like Jimmy which is pretty substantial, but also just as damning as Curly knowing how bad Jimmy could get to an extent. He had even less of a reason to wait, even more of a reason to act seeing as he was now worried for Anya AND Daisuke. He is not bound by the possible procedure as Captain and actively does not care about what happens next. So what does it matter if he acted in the moment? Why did he wait? I think he’s just as morally complex and grey as Curly and we hold him on a pedestal that still perpetuates things in rape culture the game critiques.

It’s not just enough to dislike and be abrasive to predators/abusers like Jimmy. It’s not enough to just put yourself between them and the other person. It’s not enough to hold tensions when you know someone is vulnerable. He and Curly do the exact same things but on different sides of the coin. I ask how is it better to not turn a blind eye but still not really do anything about what you are seeing? Not until it affects you atleast…

The game makes a big point to not put men doing the bare minimum or who wait to do more on pedestals and I’m actually surprised so many are missing that point.

[tategaminu]

I have to rant a little here but I'm super pissed and tired of mxm shipping culture on fandoms‚ it's always the same damn pattern

-ship two male characters that don't have any romantic feelings for each other‚ one of them likes a female character

-go full misogyny on said female character "she gets in the way of my ship". Insult her for being "bad written" while simping hard for your boy with one personality trait

-when your made up gay ship doesnt become canon because you don't understand guys can be just friends or say hi to each other without wanting to fck‚ go harrass the creator because spending threats over invented yaoi is totally ok

I have been in fandoms for years and I have seen this múltiple times‚ it's seriously getting old

[jitteryjive]

i need to remake my cup bros ref… both cup and human designs… it’s been almost a year(?) and i’ve developed the headcanons and i would like to share with the class!!! (i wrote thirty tags. Please help me)

[siren--squid]

Going Through It in a way that only danvis can fix I think

[lesbiansanemi]

I should be getting paid to deal with this bullshit

[mahoutoons]

no offense but the way some of you react when there's even a hint that sonamy could be a thing is so irrational. i'm not saying you can't have opinions but there's a difference between "i personally prefer if this ship didn't become canon" and "if this ship becomes canon, i will literally BURN MYSELF IN FRONT OF SEGA" and so many of you act like the second one. its a fictional ship between a blue and pink hedgehog, not the end of the world, calm down.