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circuses-and-childhoodtrauma · 1 year ago

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So, guess who finally sucked it up and watch the final two (three? The two parter was a whole thing) episodes of danger force and…yep. It’s currently 5am so I’ll probably have more thoughts to post on the whole plot and what it means for character progression and endings in my mind once I’ve actually processed and thought about it. This may include what you’d consider hot takes on characters but just know it’s from a place of love and I wouldn’t want them to change (unless, of course, I’m talking about things I wished went differently) because that’s the best part of the show. Long post ahead and Spoilers for that btw

I will say I procrastinated the hell out of it after hearing a spoiler that Drex has an anticlimactic death, a spoiler which turned out to only be half the truth. I can’t remember where I saw it, but I will say thank you to whoever unknowingly spoiled it because y’all should’ve seen the look on my face when that motherfucker came back from his unimpressive dusty death. Truly, pure joy. The finale itself was weirdly underwhelming and I guess on brand for the show but I thought maybe they’d put more heart into it; you can really tell the difference of investment put into danger force versus the finale of Henry danger which was, despite Henry and rays final words being a joke, far more touching than the awkward, we know it’s abrupt ending that we got for DF. It feels a little odd as a Henry danger fan since it’s first season to see it end in such a way that leaves me with. Nothing really emotionally.

I’ll start with my thoughts on Ray’s character. Keep in mind it’s been a good few months since I’ve seen any episodes besides these last few (“Ray Forgives” and “The Battle for Swellview”) so forgive me if I’m rusty on some things I’m due for a full rewatch and so point out any contradiction or disagreements you may have because his character is one of my favorites to discuss due to the extremely polarized view fans have on him. I will say this ending truly showcases the final decline of Ray’s character as the show accepts him for what he truly is (see one of his final lines in the last episode as the DF kids try to process his departure “classic me”). Ray, I never had high hopes for you and I truly enjoy watching such a despicable person be our main mentor of the show and without you I would definitely be down a few class essays. I wish we could’ve touched on Ray’s inner workings and childhood as well as how his relationship with Henry is involved in any of this? The first part of that sentence I’m fine without simply because part of Ray’s charm is being a pretty vain character that gathers most of his motivations through that vanity and pursuit of his own goals, but the latter half? I really feel like the show is pretty lackluster for that loose end of Henry’s involvement which I now doubt we will see in the movie. More on that later.

As for Ray, I think I’ve mentioned in the past that his behavior over the course of the later seasons on HD as well as the first two seasons of DF (which is all that was out at the time) could really only lead to three options for his character. Either 1. he has to become so bad that he is actively a villain in the show (I say villain not antagonist because Ray has already been the antagonist of a few episodes), 2. He fully turns over a new leaf and actively works back to the strong figure he was in Season One of HD (too little time for that, get him a therapist), or 3. He spirals into a character so objectively and morally grey that he just leaves. I honestly figured they’d go for something more of 2 (or at the very least give us some growth and then lead into the third; which, no. The MILES system plot line does not count and I’ll explain why), but it seems the show went right for the third option. His character in the ending was just so shallow and lacking empathy that I was actually shocked. And sure, the show tried to play it off by saying “oh well he saw the kids prove themselves in the big fight”, when Ray had very clearly already announced his retirement before this happened?

The whole ending with Credenza felt very “Love Muffin”-esque in the way that you only see one aspect of Ray’s character (which makes sense in Love Muffin because he only had one portion of his character thanks to the muffin) but it was certainly a…decision…for the final ending of not just danger force but the full run of the Henry danger force series as a whole being considering there was no pause between the finale of HD and the premiere of DF. There’s just so much more to his character that could’ve been used there, and it contradicts a lot of things he’s stood for even as late as the second season of DF. Even if you follow his decline of character, there are still other notable qualities that would be far better suited for a goodbye like that. Ray is known for his childishness and his immature attachment style, I don’t think I need to show proof or references if you’ve seen the show but I will if need be. Ray is also shown with outbursts of anger and things like that which would have been a bit of a dud considering he did that in the HD finale and we don’t want a redo because this is something different. I really think the show could’ve done something better than just…calm acceptance? I could even call it delusion but it just wasn’t enough for a final goodbye. Ray’s immaturity, his anxious need for his employees to love him, his relationship with Bose? I can’t really think of a worse way to end things aside from Ray leaving offscreen like they couldn’t pay Cooper his final check.

It seems Ray simply doesn’t want to be a mentor anymore. Like other things, he grew bored of it? He found something better? One can only guess. But it feels almost as though the show is painting a picture that Ray was just doing the whole mentoring sidekicks thing while he looked for a hot date. Which, if so, was his whole goal from the beginning? Because Ray spent all 8 seasons of show trying his luck with various women and he was quick to jump in their arms at any moment to leave his superhero life behind. But then again, he was quick to take any opportunity to leave his job. It’s not a good characterization of him to say that he was just “looking for love” the whole time and once he found it, he was done with the superhero schtick. It disregards his whole obsession with the city of Swellview loving him. It disregards his childish idealization of super heroism (buying capes, creating other super identities) , something that persisted even after he’d worked the job for decades. You could say he “grew up”? But then why the “classic me” line at the end and why have we seen no other growth in any areas? I have my own view and characterization of Ray that was not changed by the finale, so I am ignoring a large portion of it, something you’ll see as a trend with the other characters. But, this is just food for thought.

And obviously, since he’s truly the highlight of the show in my eyes and the light of my life who brightens my face and day every time he comes on screen, I was very happy to see Drex make his presence in the finale. Of course I knew about him being Buddy Fudgers real dad (see the timeline I made for it because the initial reveal in the trailers and clips had me absolutely reeling trying to keep my own interpretations of the show at least somewhat in line with whatever canon threw at me). The simple fact of him *being* buddy fudgers biological father is the only good and useful thing to come of it in my opinion. The actual details…Credenza being Drex’s ex-wife?? Drex apparently being an active part of Buddy’s life for an undisclosed amount of time before leaving and then apparently finding the time to come back into Buddy’s life and having SHARED CUSTODY for an also UNDISCLOSED amount of time?? The retcons in this specific plot line and Drex’s plot as a whole make my head hurt. I’m not even going to touch on the marriage thing until I’m good and ready, but, let’s just say I have ideas for that. As for everything else? Scrap it, honestly. The show itself pokes fun at the paradox of Drex’s character (always losing for…some reason…as he puts it) and I am happy to keep my own Drex and Ray and hell even Buddy Fudgers dolls away from the canon of it all and leave it there.

I liked that the show didn’t try to put on an elaborate backstory as to why Drex and Ray really hate each other (because, hey, whaddya know, we already got that in Drex’s DEBUT episode in 2016, but it’s not like the writers are aware of that…) and they just left it at “I don’t know why we’re mad” as well as leaving any backstories of their friendship in one little photograph. Don’t bother with the details, we know it’ll make our brains hurt anyway. Even though it’s a bit of a copout, I wouldn’t have wanted to see one of the only stable and serious relationships in the show be reduced to a joke like “oh Drex are my last poptart 15 odd years ago and we’ve been enemies ever since”. A good part of Drex and Ray’s rivalry that still held up even onto season 3 of DF was because so much of it was left in the dark, we can only speculate. They always have just enough motive and reasoning for you to be like “sure, that makes sense” (In Hour of Power when Ray explains that Drex’s violent tendencies led to them just “having it out” provides a father-son Batman type feud between them as Drex’s rage is obviously not dealt with in a proper way, as well as in the finale of Henry Danger on the blimp where Drex’s thought-to-be final words to Henry are “I was always the better sidekick” implying a clear jealousy at Ray’s favor towards Henry). It kept things neat and clean and dark enough for Drex to be a good bad guy. And he makes a pretty good show of being a good guy in his fifteen seconds of fame (which btw had me beaming and shaking my screen at his happy saunter ahh I just love him so much I can’t)

And, of course, I must discuss, my Roman Empire, my magnum opus, Ray and Drex’s relationship. Or rather their father and son. relationship. Let me preface by saying of course you may interpret Ray and Drex’s relationship however you want (father-son, brothers, I think some people ship them as lovers as well) and by extension Henry and Ray’s. However, if you’ve caught even one glimpse of this account you’d likely see that I consider them to be scorned father and son. Same goes for Henry, I know some people think of him and Ray like brothers and that’s fine, but in my mind they will always have a pseudo father son relationship. Now, I’ve talked about all three of them and their relationships with each other a lot on my account, so I won’t waste space reiterating it. I do want to talk about the show’s portrayal of Drex and Ray’s latest moments together. Now, right from the getgo Drex is very much coded as a scorned son (or ex lover if you listen to Hour of Power’s euphemisms which is so gross not for Drex but for the implications the show put on Henry). He calls Ray “old man” and “pops” and even says something similar to dad if you’re desperate like me “finally got the outfit to match your dad bod”(excuse my paraphrasing on that last one it’s 6am and I don’t want to go look for the exact quote). But by the latest episode Ray calls him brother? I preferred the ambiguity; it’s not the biggest issue in the world but it feels like another part of Drex that they were trying to retcon. I have much bigger plans for him though, always.

There seemed to be a lot of copout “for some reason”s in the last few plots of the season but honestly, I don’t want to compare the two finales because they’re separate things and also one continuation of each other, and also I don’t care for the discourse between which is better. I simply look at this finale for a three season show that took the time to invest us in its characters and I just feel disappointed. I didn’t have high hopes for the ending given what they were working with.

Some other thoughts that didn’t make it into my totally “neat” paragraphs:

Ray getting decapitated was the total best move for showing just how unhinged and detached Henry danger force is from the rest of Nickelodeon in terms of censoring and morals, and I absolutely loved it.

Buddy turning into Drex, only to turn back into himself but bigger a few minutes later was…a choice. Although I did find it funny that the show pointed out his return back to Buddy-likeness.

I’m not sure where any of this fits into the movie but considering it didn’t begin work until after season three was done, it might have some impact. I would love to see Henry’s reaction to all of this.

I’m not sure why they felt the need to hammer home Bose’s dad being gone? It felt like a bad punchline the third or fourth time around and I was very confused and annoyed when they mentioned it 3+ times per episode despite it not being a prominent thing in any prior seasons. Felt like maybe it was supposed to be lead up for a conclusion that didn’t happen, so it was. Odd.

I felt like Chapa really got her spotlight in those final episodes which is cool but we also didn’t really see anything come of it, especially when Mika was the unofficial leader of the group, it seemed like Chapa was stepping up to take that place with her initiative. I’ve always felt like Chapa would be the one hero to stay in Swellview after CM if they took the route of only one hero taking over. But then again, nothing came of it.

Mike’s visions also got pushed to the back which, they kind of always have been, although it was always an opening to introduce new powers for the others, nothing came of that either.

As for Mika, no notes really. Great job. Although it seemed like there was supposed to be a romance between her and Bose that just never came to fruition either for time or other changes, which left us with something very similar to the Henry and Charlotte run. Bose and Mika seemed to have more intentional moments so I had a little more hope for them considering they weren’t just a few circumstantial jokes and a rushed one-off episode like Charlotte and Henry. Would’ve like to see something happen there simply because of the clear intent for something to happen there, but, unfortunately it didn’t happen.

Credenza I haven’t got much to say about, except the whole cult thing being ingrained into her by her ancestors seems like a cool aspect to her character that might lend to some neat little details in other stories. Buddy was cool, I think his character was fine as well although I never understand why they love to do this trope where these superheroes with SUPER SECRET IDENTITIES apparently “can’t ever keep any secrets at all” but it’s a gag at the end of the day and Mika suffers from the same trope at times.

That’s all my thoughts for now, I know it’s a lot, and I’ll probably have more once I’ve had time to fully flesh things out in my mind. I would love to use this for a chance to write new stuff, but unfortunately my laptop melted, so that’s that. Feel free to discuss your thoughts on any of this! Thanks for reading if you got this far I know it’s jumbled

#henry danger #danger force #ray manchester #drex stinklebaum #drex #henry hart #dangerverse #chapa de silva #mika macklin #miles macklin #bose o'brien #captain man #kid danger #danger force season 3 #boy this was a lot I’m so sorry I didn’t realize I rambled THAT MUCH #if you actually read it I’ll love u forever #it’s 7am now jfc

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la-scree · 1 year ago

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Hoo boy I'm about to have a hot take and I'm sorry for putting it on your dashes. But I've done this event five times and I have Thoughts. Mainly one thing:

The XV event was better than the XVI one.

Yes we got good glam to show off our tits and we got a doggo mount but if this was a means for me to want to play XVI, this wasn't it.

Welp, going under the cut here so if you haven't done either the XV or XVI questline, turn back. Probably won't be as bad but you know, people probably don't want to get spoiled.

(Same Yua. Same.)

We good? Cool.

For me, what draws me to a story is the characters. With Noctis, he felt more active during his event as we do a mini road trip with him. He asks questions, he tells us a bit about himself, hell at one point he goes fishing and is like 'hey I wanna take a picture!' and having recently played it on Cinder, it felt nice. He takes the lead at times and it was fun.

Then I did the XVI event and at first, I thought it was nice and good. The fight idea felt like something from Persona and y'all know I do love that series (despite all the bullshit) and facing yourself and your fears are in fact tasty. But Clive...he was boring. It felt like I was guiding a lost puppy because Yoshi-P's insert told me to due to guiding stars he saw in a dream. Lead Clive to airship, lead him to various points in Gridania where he says basically the same thing until hearing about Garuda.

Funny how Garuda is some kind of key thing in both events but in XV's event, not only do we fight them but we understand a little about them and that this kind of thing is a test for Noct mainly. We don't know shit about XVI's Garuda or what a Bearer is. And if someone is going to say 'oh they don't want to spoil the game!' I am going to retort with that they did not spoil XV for me. All we know is that Noct is on his way with his bros to see his fiancee. If you played the game you would be able to figure it out but if you're like me who knows it through osmosis and an old memory of someone playing the game but not much, it wouldn't bother you.

I didn't connect with Clive but I wanted to...in the non sexual way unlike most of Twitter. Yeah, most of my exposure to him is people talking about his tits, how breedable he is, and getting him naked. There is the rare moment that someone puts a clip on that shows some kind of emotion he has that doesn't involve any of the above and I'm just like "Where is all the stuff for this?!" I want to see emotion come from Clive or at least SOMETHING other than blank face. He sees his Ifrit before the fight starts and yells "THAT'S THE THING THAT KILLED JOSHUA!" and he's never mentioned again. My knowledge of XVI is bare fucking bones but when Torgal got more of an emotional response than him...something is weird.

As a side note, never do complete memory loss plots for short term stories like this. Because people may assume (like me) that it's an excuse for them to have no personality. Btw Cid and Yotsuyu want to know your location. No reason. Also, I know when it comes to something heavy like that, you need time for that. I'm doing this with Cinder as she regains her past life memories up until 6.0 and Yua's bit in Faerun has her with no memories but both regain pieces as their stories go on.

So long story short: XVI event felt like a nothing burger but the wrapping (rewards) were nice. If I want to get into the game, Yoshi-P's insert saying to go play XVI won't do it. It might be from people who enjoyed the game and have passion for it that might. Make me have an emotional connection with the character, make me root for them when they need it, make me feel SOMETHING!

If you enjoyed the event and thought it was S-tier then good. I'm happy for you because we need some of that around. It just made me look more at the event after my third go and think '...hmm, the joy I feel is decreasing. Why?'

#ffxiv #ffxvi #ffxv #lita has thoughts

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thekimspoblog · 1 year ago

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For the record, I did finally see "American Fiction" a few nights ago. I am recommending you watch this movie, so I don't want to spoil it too much, but I wanted to share my thoughts.

When a slice-of-life movie is done well, I can really enjoy it, but if that aspect fails, a movie can become very cloying and tedious. In this case however, it was done well. "American Fiction" is a very cozy, very digestible movie that just follows this one family through the highs and lows of their summer. There are multiple subplots which have little to do with eachother, let alone the main story, but that's okay; it feels more realistic that way and the subplots are quite charming in their own right. The dialogue expresses familiar sentiments from other movies, but in a way that still feels fresh. In a sense, the trailer almost feels like a prank on the audience; white moviegoers were promised a mean-spirited satire on race relations, and instead what we got was 90 minutes of black people existing comfortably with minimal conflict. But if you're disappointed, that's on you. Setting aside the politics altogether, it's just refreshing to - every once in a while - watch a quieter movie about normal people being kind to eachother. Nobody has to die in order for a drama to be good... well... almost nobody.

The A-Story is basically just a rip-off of Spike Lee's "Bamboozled". Like I said, the story we saw in the trailer really only made up less than a third of the plot. And if you're upset about the bait-and-switch, "American Fiction" succeeded at what it was trying to do, but... also if you really wanted a movie about a writer pushing the envelope of prejudice for personal gain, you can still just go and watch "Bamboozled". For that matter, "Bamboozled" was already vaguely the same plot as Mel Brooks' "The Producers". I guess my main question is what it says about the psyche of white people, when you compare "American Fiction" to a movie made 24 years prior which had basically the same premise. Does it represent improvement, that a film can make the same social commentary without resorting to the same extremes to get the point across? Or have we grown more sensitive; is "American Fiction" a more toned-down version of the story simply because you could never make "Bamboozled" in the PC world of today? I hope it's the former. You probably couldn't remake "Bamboozled" today, but more importantly, "American Fiction" couldn't have been made in the 90's; the imagery of Monk's book was so commonplace back then, I don't think it would have occurred to white audiences that anything was even amiss. On the other hand, I think the white people in "American Fiction" are somehow more cartoonish; I remember a few moments while watching "Bamboozled" where I went, "Oh shit! Ok, I have said/done/thought stuff like that IRL", and I never had that moment watching "American Fiction". I call the movie "digestible" and "cozy" because I was able to get through the whole thing and not once did it feel like the movie was attacking me. But again, even if your movie sets out to make white people uncomfortable, that's still centering the story too much around our emotions; "American Fiction" had the more important goal of simply telling a story where black people are allowed to be happy.

The cringe comedy is extremely funny. This is the main reason I'm recommending the movie as lighthearted fun. Half the jokes boil down to "Jeffery Wright is annoyed" (and IMO that itself is enough to sustain a film), but there were also some lines of dialogue which completely caught me off guard. The movie is still more CUTE than it is FUNNY, but for a "cute" movie I was laughing almost all the way through. The other film I'd compare "American Fiction" to is "Dan in Real Life", and I definitely prefer this one, both in terms of likeable characters and quality of dialogue.

Spoilers ahead! I liked how the story had three endings, and like "Clue", the audience is left to pick which one they want. I still won't be spoiling what happens but I did want to talk about this part: It's fine that Ending A was never explained in detail; Monk has made his feelings about the situation pretty clear at this point; anyone with two braincells to rub together can use their imaginations and guess what he would have said at that podium. Ending B is pretty obviously the correct answer. Not only does a "rom-com" ending fit with the tone of the rest of the movie, but I think it gives the best resolution to what the story was actually about. I said none of the racist characters made me embarrassed about my own behavior, but that doesn't mean I didn't see Monk's personality flaws as a reflection of myself. "Tortured artist realizes at the 11th hour that his judgmental attitude has been isolating him from the people he cares about" is a theme I very much relate to, and it's the kind of story I've been wanting to write for years. Ending C was a little bit predictable, but still worked as the climactic punchline. It was the moment the story went from feeling like an unintentional ripoff of "Bamboozled" to a more direct parody of it. Ending D causes the rest of the story to become confusing, but it at least retroactively excuses some of the more contrived/cliched moments which happened at the beginning of the film.

So yeah. In conclusion, good movie, little forgettable but pretty damn funny. Go see it. Jeffery Wright is a DILF and I could watch another 90 minutes of him meandering around the beach, staring soulfully out at the ocean.

#jeffery wright #american fiction #movie review #cw white people having opinions

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becauseimanicequeen · 7 months ago

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Rewatching Love Syndrome III and Wishing the Amnesia was Contagious

This is part of my Crazy-Ass End-of-Year Rewatch Challenge where I will rewatch some of my favorite shows, some of my least favorite shows, and some shows in between. I pulled another title out of the bowl (yes, I'm letting chance choose for me) and got Love Syndrome III.

I can't promise cohesive thoughts in these posts because it's the end of the year, I'm currently living in right-brain land 10+ hours per day, and I'm TIRED because the darkness of winter is coming (it's basically here). You've been warned.

Also, since this is a rewatch, there are spoilers ahead.

Background

I binged this for the first time almost right after it had completed its airing in 2023. Most of what I can remember from it is the amnesia plot and that I was confused as hell because it very much felt like a third part of a story that didn't have the first two parts (only annoying flashbacks).

I also remember that I watched it to distract myself because it was around the 1-year mark of my dad's passing. So, perhaps my 4-star rating was a "thank you for the distraction" rather than anything else.

Let's see.

(Just like with For Him, I'm definitely watching this at 2x speed.)

Let's Go, Amnesia Plot

I'd forgotten about the wig! How could I forget about the wig?!

(In my defense, I binged almost 2 12-episode-long Thai QL shows every day that summer.)

I'd also forgotten about all the fuss about cake...

I'm not even 3 and a half episodes into this show, and I'm already losing my patience with Day and Itt. Day is such an asshole (his amnesia is just an explanation, not an excuse) and Itt is a spoiled brat (partially because of his parents but also because Day groomed him to be dependent on Day for the rest of their lives).

And then there are all the flashbacks to explain character dynamics and relationships and things that are happening in the present because of Day's amnesia, which is more annoying than anything else. In other words, it's a mess. And I just...

*sigh*

As someone who usually likes toxic characters and trashy shows (messy ones included), I should eat this up like ice cream on the hottest day of the year. But, I don't.

There's something that doesn't click for me and I think it's because these characters are straight-up aggressive and mean (mostly Day). And there's not much to keep me entertained in terms of the story either. So, I guess I'll just have to focus on the visuals and side couples to get through this, then.

And there are visuals. Tuss, for example:

(He played Jack in Twins, and I loved him and his FWB Mike in that show. Then he played an asshole in Knock Knock, Boys!, which was a shame. But at least he was a pretty asshole...)

There's also Kokliang, who is such a cutie pie:

(He was in TharnType and Be Mine Superstar, if I remember correctly.)

And Hearth:

(He was in Twins as well, but I recently loved him in another messy show I enjoyed, which was Live in Love.)

And Non:

(He's been in, among other shows, GAP, Love Stage!!, and I saw him most recently in The Rebound.)

Interestingly, these four boys also play two of the side couples. Nill (Tuss) and Nik (Kokliang):

And Nan (Hearth) and Mac (Non):

So, I'm seated for these visuals and side couples, hoping they will get me through this mess.

Sure, Gear and Night are cute too.

But Nill and Nik...

And Nan and Mac...

Are the kind of crazy-ass couples that will keep me sane.

But, Nan and Mac are just as toxic as Day and Itt, you say.

Yes, they are. Different flavors, yet, still toxic.

So, how can you like Nan and Mac, you say?

Because I have double standards when it comes to the toxicity I like in my shows.

Nan and Mac are just bonkers. I mean, Nan puts a fucking chain on Mac (in public) and blackmails him to stick around due to an incriminating video that doesn't even exist. Just because Nan likes him... What a fucking trainwreck of a character. Which is exactly why I love him.

Day, on the other hand, is just violent and aggressive (both physically and verbally). And I can't stand that.

Also, even though I love Nan and Mac, I want them to be fucking miserable. But I also want them to be fucking miserable together. Misery loves company, you know.

So, I need Nan and Mac, and Nill and Nick on my screen to survive this show.

I mean, if I get to look at this man the whole show:

I'll be okay.

Because he...

Is...

FINE!

But this story is fucking trainwreck. I'm only on the 5th episode and it feels like it keeps going downhill with Day practically admitting that he's being an asshole just to see how long Itt will put up with him.

I'm not even halfway into this shitshow. Send help. Please!

Thank Goddess Nill is here to stop me from going feral on this show.

I think my patience with this show is matching Nik's patience with Day = on the verge of being non-existent.

Also, thank Goddess for moments like this:

Bale is the one getting me through this now that my boys (specifically Nill) aren't around.

I just finished the 9th episode, and I'm struggling BIG TIME. I haven't seen my side couples for what feels like forever. Bale hasn't shown up in the recent episodes either and I can't take it anymore. I'm so done with Day's aggression.

So, show, if you want me to keep watching you, you better bring my beloved sidecouples back! Especially Nill and Nik. I want that feisty little shit (very affectionately) to come back and give Day hell! And his boyfriend to hold him back (but, kind of not).

I need more of this:

And this:

Just give them to me!

I'm onto the 10th episode, reminding myself it's just this one + 2 more left. Then I'm finally free!

Oh, lord, P is such a flat, cartoonish villain who adds nothing to the story other than an opportunity to add more flashbacks to tell Day and Itt's backstory (which are just annoying to begin with). I...

*sigh*

Please give me something that makes me not want to stab myself in the eyes with a pen.

Look, I got Mac in a racing overall!

I feel like I can breathe a little easier again.

It feels like I haven't seen my boys Nill and Nik for several episodes, and I'm starving.

Bitch, I've been doing that the whole fucking show.

Nill is back! I repeat:

Nill is back!

Now I just need his boyfriend back on my screen too. Pronto!

Nill AND Nik are back on my screen!

And they delivered!

Everything...

I...

Wanted...

And more...

They almost made the pain of watching this whole 12-episode mess of a show worth it.

Seriously, if I could choose to get amnesia on that specific area of my brain where the memory of this show is stored, I would. As long as I could remember Nill and Nik, of course.

At the same time as I'm sad over how little I got of Nill and Nik in the show, I'm definitely not sad to let this go. You have no idea how happy I am to be done.

I wish so bad that I'll pull one of my favorite shows out of my bowl for the next rewatch. Please. Please! I can't take another one of my least favorites right now. I think I'll have a meltdown if I do, lmao!

*fingers and toes crossed for a much better show than this, which isn't that hard to beat*

#crazy ass end of year rewatch challenge #rewatch challenge #rewatch #love syndrome iii #thai ql #thai bl #thai series #my shit

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mediaevalmusereads · 8 months ago

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Diavola. By Jennifer Thorne. Nightfire, 2024.

Rating: 2/5 stars

Genre: horror

Series: N/A

Summary: Anna has two rules for the annual Pace family destination vacations: Tread lightly and survive.

It isn’t easy when she’s the only one in the family who doesn’t quite fit in. Her twin brother, Benny, goes with the flow so much he’s practically dissolved, and her older sister, Nicole, is so used to everyone—including her blandly docile husband and two kids—falling in line that Anna often ends up in trouble for simply asking a question. Mom seizes every opportunity to question her life choices, and Dad, when not reminding everyone who paid for this vacation, just wants some peace and quiet.

The gorgeous, remote villa in tiny Monteperso seems like a perfect place to endure so much family togetherness, until things start going off the rails—the strange noises at night, the unsettling warnings from the local villagers, and the dark, violent past of the villa itself.

***Full review below.***

CONTENT WARNINGS: abortion, blood, suicide, disturbing imagery, self-harm, mild sexual content

OVERVIEW: I saw this book on display at a local bookstore, so I took a chance on it and picked it up for my October Halloween read. I was intrigued by the premise and stunned by the cover, so I had high hopes for the story. While there were some things I liked, I think what mainly held this book back was the writing. Some of it was fine, but when it came to the spooky elements, it felt like Thorne was trying to cram a movie with jump cuts and into a novel. On top of that, it felt very dialogue-heavy and not very atmospheric, and the plot as a whole was a letdown, so I struggled to enjoy the horror aspect. As a result, this book only gets 2 stars from me.

WRITING: Thorne's prose is very quick, but that's to its detriment. While easy to get through, I also got the sense that there was more telling than showing and that certain moments (atmospheric, emotional) didn't get their due weight. Instead, I felt like inwas breezing through plot and character development at a breakneck pace.

I also wasn't the biggest fan of some of the millenial humor. While I do like some humor in horror, I personally find this flavor of humor rather tiresome. It wasn't as bad as some books, but I still think it detracted from the story.

PLOT: The plot of this book follows Anna Pace, a 30-something-year-old who joins her family for a vacation in Monteperso, Italy. In between the bickering, the family realizes that something is not quite right with the house, putting further strain on the relationship between Anna and others.

The family squabbles constituted a kind of train wreck that was, for the most part, fun to watch. I liked the dysfunctional dynamics, and plopping them all inside a haunted villa seemed like a great opportunity to explore their flaws and fears.

However, I personally don't think the rest of the plot was handled well. Thorne didn't seem to put much work into building up the dread and suspense, relying on techniques that were probably more suited to film than a prose novel. We also just kind of breeze through big character moments rather abruptly so most of the focus is on the day to day activities and arguments rather than the relationships and inner conflicts beneath them.

The last third of the book was, unfortunately for me, a slog. Anna is separated from her family at that point, and without spoiling anything, I will only say that it felt rather jarring and the focus on Anna's daily routine was tedious. There were details that I don't think were needed, and Anna didn't strike me as someone who was using her particular strengths to overcome her challenges with the ghost. By the end, everything was something of a letdown, and I couldn't help but feel like Thorne was trying to say something about toxic people, but didn't quite pull it off.

CHARACTERS: Anna, our protagonist, is the black sheep of the Pace family, but because we see everything from her side, she comes across as rather sympathetic. I felt like she was the family scapegoat, which was all well and good, but Thorne didn't do much to instill a sense in the reader that maybe Anna was responsible for the things in the villa. Instead, she just felt unfairly blamed and the plot didn't do much to untangle the psyche of a character who has that kind of relationship with her family.

The rest of the Pace family was entertaining in a dumpster fire sort of way. Watching them fuss and bicker was like watching trashy reality TV, and I was always waiting for a full-on fight to break out. A lot of that bickering contributed to some of the tension, but in my opinion, Thorne didn't do much with it in the grand scheme of things.

TL;DR: Diavola tries its best to be a "Vacation Gothic" story but ultimately doesn't do much to use its ghost as a commentary on dysfunctional family relationships. On top of that, I wasn't the biggest fan of the writing style, and the pace felt way too quick for any meaningful character work.

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adhd-merlin · 8 months ago

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@queer-ragnelle I've just finished reading Lancelot! I think you said you'd like to hear the opinion of people who read it, though I can't find that post now.

[spoilers under the cut]

I read it after Gawain, and I found both that book and Lancelot easy to read – only mentioning this because I've been in a reading slump so it was nice to read something I didn't feel like I was struggling through.

I enjoyed Lancelot, though I liked Gawain better overall. It felt more... cohesive than Lancelot? Possibly because Lancelot spans several years, but I found its plot slightly meandering at times. The first part was all about Lancelot's secret identity but when it was finally revealed it just... wasn't much of a big deal? Elaine got over it immediately? I don't know, I expected a bit more drama out of the whole affair.

Like in Gawain, I thoroughly enjoyed some of the minor characters – in fact, I felt almost more invested in some of them than in the main couple. Arthur and Guinevere were my favourite side characters, I wish there had been a few more scenes with them! I was a bit disappointed that we didn't get an Arthur & Guinevere's reconciliation scene; I know it wasn't about them and we could easily tell what happened after Guinevere's confession but I wanted to SEE! 😔 you know?

I love Gwen Rowley's characterisation of King Arthur; it's what made me read Gawain in the first place because that first scene with him hooked me. (I know you said the third book in the series sucks but, out of curiosity, is there more of Arthur in it? And is there any mention of Mordred? His conception was only alluded to a couple of times here and I wondered if it ever came up again).

I also loved Brisen and Torre, and I was glad we got a brief glimpse into their happy ending.

Guinevere and Lancelot's relationship was fascinating, and it made so much sense once they were revealed to be siblings! The way Lancelot was so annoyed with Guinevere at times but couldn't help but be protective of her, and his familiarity with her. (Also I'm dumb because although it was revealed half-way through the book I only realised when Guinevere confessed it to Arthur. I'm not that knowledgeable about Arthurian characters and I guess I'd forgotten Lancelot's father’s name? So I didn't join the dots. But I went back to re-read that bit about Lancelot and Guinevere's first meeting and it literally mentions the word "brother" lol. I don't know how it flew over my head, I didn't take it literally I guess.)

I loved the bits of Gawain we saw here, I like him as a character – more than Lancelot, I think, which might be why I enjoyed his book more. It's strange though, I almost liked Lancelot more in Gawain, where he was a side character described in a fairly unsympathetic way, than in Lancelot. Perhaps because I was intrigued by the mystery of whatever was going on between him and Guinevere – I loved the glimpses of their relationship in Gawain. I'm kind of glad I read that book first because I enjoyed the ambiguity of their relationship from an outsider's point of view and knowing the truth about their bond would've spoiled that a bit. Anyway, obsessed with Guinevere and Lancelot gossiping about the people at court. Mean besties devoted to the man who only wishes everyone would get along. If only Lancelot and Dinadan could stand each other, they and Guinevere could put together the ultimate Mean Girls squad.

Anyway... yeah. These are just some of my random thoughts after literally just finishing the book. Thanks for sharing it, it was a fun read!!

If any of you do end up reading Mordred: A Tragedy by Henry Newbolt….will you tag me?

#ramblings

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peachycoreroo · 4 years ago

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what about some haikyuu boys trying to explain how morning erection works to their s/o? if you could include Kuroo, Sugawara, Oikawa and Satori I'd be more than grateful 🥺

characters: kuroo tetsurou, sugawara koushi, oikawa tooru, tendou satori

genre: smut, a miiiini plot bc i can't control myself

word count: 1.2k

warnings: fem!reader but can be read as gn!reader, also kinda oblivious!reader?, established relationships, the slightest somnophilia (reader is just grinding while oikawa is asleep, he wakes up immediatly tho), handjob, morning wood (obvs), implied sex

authors note: omg this was my first ever request, thank you sm anonnie! i'm so sorry bc i'm pretty sure i got carried away and only kuroo and tendou really fit your request, but i still hope you'll like it<3 this was actually really hard bc i was so anxious about fucking up my first request, i also didn't really know much about morning woods (well now i do heh) and i find tendou kinda hard to write for but i really wanted to make anon happy. i stayed up till 4am for this🧍‍♂️here's a link to my masterlist<3

pt.2: kageyama tobio, haiba lev, hinata shoyo

kuroo tetsurou:

„your dick does what, why now?”

kuroo rolled his eyes. this is the third time he has to repeat himself and you still look at him as if you’ve never heard anything more complicated in your life.

sighing, the tall male leaned back against the headboard of your shared bed, trying to make himself as comfortable as he could, with you finally quenching your curiosity about his morning wood, and said morning wood pressing against his boxers and your sheets.

“one more time, y/n, there’s a number of reasons. first of all, the male body has its peak of testosterone in the morning. basically, the sudden increase of the hormone in the changing stages from being asleep to waking up, can get your guy up.” as he saw you open your mouth to ask a question, he immediately followed with: “yes, even without actually being aroused”, effectively making you shut your mouth again. the fact that he knew exactly what you wanted to ask, made him chuckle. kuroo knew you like the back of his hand.

“another one is that my body is aware of what’s going on, even when i’m asleep. if your ass grazes my dick, it’s gonna react.” grinning proudly, you sat yourself in his lap, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders.

“mhh, i’m glad you can’t resist me, even in your sleep. so… you want some help with that?”

the dark-haired male decided to play along, putting his large hands on your waist, pulling you closer and leaning in, just to stop a few inches from your lips and murmur: “you know, i could also just need to pee really bad”, making you lean back and stare at him dumbfounded.

as much as he wanted to actually teach you about this topic, kuroo would never pass up an opportunity to tease you.

sugawara koushi:

as suga jerked awake, he immediately became aware of his severe case of a morning wood. not only that, but he could also feel your ass pressed up snugly against it.

once the sleep slowly drained from the man’s eyes, he noticed that it was still dark outside and quickly checked the time to see his alarm clock reflecting the numbers 5:50 a.m. back at him. he knew he had to get up at 6 if he wanted to be an exemplary teacher and get to school earlier to prepare for class, but with the way your ass was pushing against his hard dick, his mind was too clouded by lust to care. he needed you, and he needed you now.

“baby, wake up”, in suga’s husky morning voice was the first thing you heard as you were gently stirred awake. when you cracked your eyes open, the silver-haired man was already kneeling between your legs, cock heavy and leaking against your panties.

yawning, you asked concerned: “kou’? what’s wrong? is everything okay?”

not being able to wait any longer, sugawara slowly started grinding against you through your shorts, making your breath hitch and legs spread wider.

“y-yeah, just a morning wood emergency. i can’t go and teach like that. let me use you quickly, princess”, suga almost whined, pained.

trying to hold in your whimpers to understand what led to this, your eyes jumping from the male’s handsome face to his pretty, hard dick, you wondered: “what’s gotten into you?”

at that, suga scoffed, amused at you wanting to know what led to his erection instead of getting to business right away.

“woke up to your pretty lil’ butt all snuggled up against my dick. you make me hard, even in my sleep y/n”, he rasped impatiently, but still wanting to quench your interest.

despite the fact that this was definitely not the most romantic thing you have heard from sugawara koushi, you couldn’t stop the butterflies erupting at the thought of him craving you this badly, even while asleep.

“c’mere kou’”, you softly murmured, pulling him down for a kiss, ready to help your boyfriend’s morning problem.

oikawa tooru:

tonight, wasn’t your night. you barely got a wink of sleep, while your boyfriend slept like a stone beside you. you knew it wasn’t his fault you couldn’t sleep, but that didn’t stop you from sulking like a spoiled child.

you were tired but also incredibly horny, and as if some gods heard the prayers you didn’t even direct at them, you noticed oikawa’s morning erection standing loud and proud under your shared sheets like every morning.

not wasting a moment, you ripped the sheets off him, straddling his lap and grinding your soaked panties against his erect boxer-clad cock. it’s not the worst feeling oikawa has ever woken up to, in fact it was definitely one of the best. everything’s better than being slapped awake by iwa-chan’s shoe hitting him in the face back in high school.

as the tanned man started to fidget and his calloused hands landed on your hips to guide you along his cock, your curiosity about his daily morning wood got the best of you.

“why are you hard every morning, tooru?”, you asked innocently, while not-so-innocently continuing to tease him with your hips.

“u-uh, something about hormones a-and, oh shit, faster babe”, oikawa needily pleaded, not in the mood to be explaining the scientific reason behind his reoccurring morning problem.

unsatisfied with the answer, you stopped the grinding to frown at him and complained: “but i wanna know more, tooru.”

the brunet looked up at you, groaning but knowing you wouldn’t just let it go. “fuck, okay. how about this: you make me cum, and i answer all your questions about… morning woods, after. deal?”

“…deal.”

tendou satori:

you woke up before tendou, feeling his hard-on press against your naked thigh, making you want to continue the fun you had last night.

luckily, your boyfriend also woke up, though not as happy about his morning wood problem as you.

“’tori… i need you”, you seductively purred, letting your petite hand slide down to his erection, wrapping around it and giving it a few slow, lazy pumps. to your surprise, your usually vocal-in-bed boyfriend didn’t moan, but only tensed at your ministrations.

not thinking much of it, you attached your lips to the base of his throat, sucking and licking while giving his cock a hard tuck, hoping to get a pretty moan out of him.

what you didn’t expect however, was for tendou to jump up and run to your bathroom while squealing like a little schoolgirl. dumbfounded, you froze in the position you were in, leaning towards where your boyfriend was laying just a few seconds ago, with your hand in a half-fist.

after a few minutes, the red-haired man sheepishly re-entered the room, scratching the back of his blushing neck with a matching blush on his face.

“i-i uh…”, at his voice cracking, tendou cleared his throat before continuing: “i’m so sorry sweetheart, i didn’t mean to run off like that.”

finally breaking out of your stiffness, you looked at him, puzzled, before asking: “why did you run off? if you didn’t want to make-out, I would’ve understood a simple no.”

“it’s not that! it’s just… morning wood doesn’t always mean i’m horny, sweetie. sometimes it happens when you desperately need to pee.”

“oh”, you awkwardly remarked, “i didn’t know that ‘tori, i’m so sorry. i just thought…”

chuckling, tendou leaned down, kissing your forehead and reassuring you: “don’t worry angel, you never stop learning.”

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polyghostfacehours · 3 years ago

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Thoughts on Scream 2022 - The Legacy Cast

!!SPOILER POST AHEAD!!!

This will be my thoughts on the Scream 1996's cast's involvement in this film.

This post spoils major plot points of the movie and anything regarding the OG Scream 1996 Cast.

I'll be doing one on the new cast and the overall plot of the movie probably sometime tomorrow!

Firstly, Ill get into the Billy and Stu stuff, because y'know Im sure thats what a lot of you are here for.

Billy Loomis:

-Billy. Holy shit Billy. What they did with him was phenomenal. When I first saw Skeet, I almost yelled. He appears like 4 times in the movie.

- It's wild how he seemed almost like one of the good guys here. Encouraging Sam to find the killer and kill them. Telling her that she's in danger and it's time to "slice some throats!"

- THE SCENE WITH HIM IN THE END. When he just nods over to the bowie knife for Sam to grab???? How proud he look at her in the end with that, like, fatherly nod??? In-fucking-sane.

- I know he's supposed to just be a hallucination, but idk. Part of me feels it's a ghost. Or maybe that's just wishful thinking.

- So he didn't look exactly how he did in 1996, ofc, but the de-aging tech ended up looking a LOT better than I expected. Some parts of his face looked weird, definitely filled out parts of his face wrong and gave him a slightly different bone structure. But they did as good as they could.

- Overall, I LOVED his involvement in the movie. It feels a little OOC, but then again, he is a hallucination. And if he is a ghost? Welp, that's excellent fanfic potential lmaoo.

- Bro how did they de-age his voice though?? Skeet's voice has def changed, but it sounded so much like himself from Scream? It was wild.

Stu Macher:

- And then Stu. Oh Stu. He got shafted SO hard.

- Throughout the whole movie, Billy's full name is constantly brought up. Stu's full name get's said, like, twice. Usually it's either just Stu. OR WORSE, they just called him Billy's accomplice a few times ;^;.

- Stu had a sister, and her name was Leslie! I assume she was older and had already moved out by the time Scream happened, since Vince is 25 I think, so she had him in '96. Likely she was in college or older, since Stu was already a senior when Scream happened.

- Vince, his nephew, is a total sleazeball. I have no idea if Vince even mentions Stu, because during the scenes he was on I was a little distracted. But I don't think he does.

- That's about it for Stu. There's very little regarding him in the movie. I think he is dead, because no one speaks about him in the present tense.

-BUT, maybe they mentioned him so little for a reason? Maybe he really did survive and is just in prison. And the reason they didn't want to mention him too much is to leave that possibility open?

Dewey:

- Dewey. Oh Dewey.

- Of the legacy cast, he had the biggest role

- Seeing Tatum's ashes in his trailer got to me ngl. I actually gasped.

- Speaking of trailer, he lives in one now. Had to forcefully retire, irreparable nerve damage, and he and Gale are divorced, though they clearly love each other still.

- I was neve the biggest Dewey stan. But I was fucking GUTTED when he died. It felt like a beloved uncle passing away. And Gale screaming had my heart clenching.

- He didn't deserve to die like that. It's tragic. He lost everything he loved in his life, and then died a horrible death.

- Ghostface saying "It's an honor." to kill him had me gasping. I'd imagine it really WAS an honor to be the person to finally kill Dewey Riley.

Sidney and Gale:

- Sidney is married! Her husband's name is Mark. Most likely Mark Kincaid from Scream 3! She also has 2 daughters.

- Sidney definitely took a backseat here, and this was clearly so the new cast could shine. While I do adore the new cast, I was definitely hoping to see her more.

- I wish she had more of a reaction to Dewey dieing. We see Gale going through some grief, but we don't really get to see Sidney's.

- Sidney and Gale tag-teaming for the third act was everything I loved and more. She and Gale are such a force to be reckoned with! It's also nice seeing older women represented and heroic in a film! Women in Hollywood get shafted once they hit 35, and they rarely get to be badass.

Tatum and Randy:

- We see Tatum's ashes in Dewey's trailer. It hurt, but I was so happy to finally see a nod to Tatum.

- Randy having a shrine at Martha's place was incredible! The photo of what I assume to be Randy's senior photos were adorable!

#scream 2022 #scream 1996 #billy loomis #stu macher #sidney prescott #randy meeks #tatum riley #dewey riley

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no1ryomafan · 2 years ago

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So umm...What do you think about each iteration of ryoma(toei,armageddon,new getter, etc.)?

Idk why you anon but ooo I was expecting a question like this! For reference: I haven’t fully read any of the mangas-I DESPERATELY need to read OG but I have a terrible attention span, the spin offs don’t really interest me-and toei I only saw a ep of, so sorry to disappoint but I can only fully give my thoughts fully on the OVAs. (Also probably won’t put noir here cause uh- yeah lol)

That said.

Armageddon: My favorite even though he’s gone for a good portion of the show, it doesn’t make him any less of a character even if he had missed potential in development-but with that at least SRW gives him more screen time! Even if I’m mixed on his characterization in newer stuff-he has so much to him and he’s the reason I fell in love with this series. He went from “OOOO hot criminal guy” to “war vet hobo who’s mentally fucked up and needs help but will never get it” for me, I just- love him dearly.

Shin Vs Neo: Despite this ova being the weakest in terms of plot, this Ryoma is actually REALLY interesting. It’s so nice to actually see a timeline where Ryoma gets to relax, especially in one that’s a water downed Manga timeline-since even though I need to fully read, I know it gets FUCKED. Since the panels got spoiled for me lol-He’s literally “living his best life ™️ “ and with how 90% of this franchise is it’s nice to have an iteration like this. Of course, he never got a proper character arc so it’s mainly his personality that shines, but he’s still up there as my third favorite. Especially with the ponytail OOOOOOO-

New: *slams fist* FUCKAAHAHAHAB. I have many emotions about this one. While Arma is my favorite, New is easily the best Ryoma has ever been animated, from a writing standpoint. Taking all his development from the manga but turning it on its side by Ryoma ACTUALLY fighting against the will of Emperor is just brilliant, and this isn’t even getting into how his personality is completely fleshed out. I honestly think the only reason he isn’t my favorite overall is due to the ending- GOD. Not to say it’s a “he didn't deserve this” way, it makes sense why it went that path it just- fucking HURTS to think about and I know that was the intent. Yeah Arma doesn't get his happy ending either, but at least he’s with his bros so it eases me a bit to know “well he’s happy even if he’s in quiet the situation” and I know New path is better then just being consumed into cosmic horror it still just AAAAAA. (I want a spin off manga that continues New so bad but I know that won’t happen… I just- I just want him to be okay)

Anyways Ryoma rank is Arma>New>SVN. Whenever I finally get through the manga and if I make myself watch more Toei I’ll update this, but I do love every Ryoma in some capacity regardless of how well I know him. (And maybe I’ll read like Devo or Dino since Devo I vaguely know about + it has a official translation and as for Dino the artist for the SKL manga drew it so I’m a bit interested- but you have to pay me to EVER touch Darkness lol)

Also feel free to ask my opinions about different Hayato’s or any character in the OVAs! I love giving my thoughts about the general cast.

#Getter Robo #Ryoma nagare #I got emotional near the end huh?

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absandersons · 5 years ago

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What the Fuck Happened to the SPN Finale?

Okay so here it is, my Charlie Kelly style manifesto.

Before I get into it, I recognize that I will look like this to many of you, and that’s okay, I understand:

Secondly, your personal Takes about the writers don’t interest me, I don’t need to hear them. This, as I’ll explain, is going to remain a writer positive blog, and that’s the end of it.

Third, and most importantly: some of what I’m going to talk about is fact, and some is highly educated speculation. I will notate what is speculation, just so there’s no confusion or hot takes in my inbox that I’m a conspiracy theorist or stirring shit up for no reason.

A list of what I’ll be discussing

The episode in regards to the rest of the season

The episode issues: length, editing

Scene placement and speculation of scenes cut

The scrubbing of Jack, Cas, Eileen

Network involvement and general timeline of when things were cut

Misha: theories on where he was, official company line, why we can’t expect to hear anything directly

The silence of the cast post episode (in Misha’s case, mid episode) and what this might mean

Jensen speaking with Kripke about the ending: why it doesn’t mean what you might think (also why kripke remained positive on the ending)

Walker, and why this episode had a major shift

Why the network would do this or get involved

Why the writers of the show simply aren’t the bad guys here, and what I “want” out of this post, since I know it’ll get asked

This is very long and under a cut, but I hope you’ll give it a read.

The Episode In Regards to the Rest of the Season

So, I’ve discussed this already here, but it’s the most obvious thing to me, and that’s the way this episode simply doesn’t fit with the rest of the season.

These people in this room have, truly, been nothing but consistent when it comes to their arcs, especially this season, and the marked dropoff in quality for the finale episode is just too sus to discount to me. Dabb’s whole focus has been character-based. In his seasons, we’ve moved far away from MOTW and bro-codependency, the found family taking it’s place. Does it really sit right to anyone that that was all thrown away in literally the last episode of the entire show?

This is speculation on my part, but as a writer myself, there is no way I would be happy or willing to stamp my name on something that I didn’t think would, at the very least, wrap up the season+ character arcs that I and my team had been crafting.

And before anyone comes in here saying, “well GOT did that!” Bruh. The writing was on the wall for GOT long before the final episode. You could tell that the showrunners just wanted to be done (not only from the plot, but from the fact that they lobbied for a shorter season). Miss me with that, it doesn’t apply here. Andrew has, besides Singer and J2, been with the show longer than anyone. He cares, he is meticulous and detailed, and this ending feels worse than anything Bucklemming has ever written, let alone Dabb.

Additionally, I’ve seen a lot of people say that Dabb was never behind Destiel, that it was all Bobo and Meredith and no one else. That is reductive to the point of insult of the work Dabb has done to get this greenlit. This man did not write the s13 Dean grief arc to be slandered like this. That being said, YES, Bobo and Meredith were the leads on the DeanCas arc this season, but ANDREW IS THE SHOWRUNNER, TO GET EVEN THE CONFESSION APPROVED BY THE NETWORK HE WOULD HAVE TO HAVE THEIR BACKS. AND HE DID.

Finale Issues

So, now that we’ve gotten the fact that this episode doesn’t hit on any of the major themes the show was barrelling towards all season, let’s discuss the fact that the episode is just...weird.

Not only is it shorter than any other episode (I think with the intro and the credits/crew thing at the end, it was around 38 mins), but it was also...idk, 90% filler?

One of the lovely humans in the POLOL server did the legwork here, and broke it down:

This is weird, y’all. Most series finales are LONGER than normal (Lost, SOA, Longmire are the ones I can think of off the top of my head), and for the final episode to be this? I saw more than one person point out that we only really needed 19 episodes, what was the point of 20? AND THAT’S EXACTLY IT? WHAT WAS THE POINT OF THIS FINAL EPISODE IF THIS WAS ALL WE WERE SUPPOSED TO GET?

It simply doesn’t make any sense, the first half of the episode was rushed, a final monster hunt gone wrong, but in the second half? Nothing really happened? Sam lived his entire life and Dean just drove around. It doesn’t make sense to have all the emotional arcs left unaddressed in an episode that definitely needed some kind of spark.

Here’s the speculation I have: the episode seemingly went through a lot of changes between the initial inception of the final season and when we actually got it, but I think it would have been passable (as in, we wouldn’t be sitting here asking each other why each arc feels incomplete) until the editing room got ahold of it. The only think that makes this episode make sense is network fuckery. Truly, that is the only thing. It explains the weird, cuts, the rushed pacing of the first half followed by nothing in the second half, the double montages of “Wayward Son” back to back, and Dean just...driving around for the last half of the episode.

Scene Placement and Speculation of Scenes Cut

Before I get into this section, the info of the shots in the episode I have come from a source that @occamshipper got a week or so before the finale. She’s talked about this here.

So here’s what Min was given:

1-5: 1 INT MEN OF LETTERS – DEAN’S ROOM Dean is greeted by Miracle

6-10: 6 INT MEN OF LETTERS – HALLWAY/SAM’S ROOM Sam has his routine

D1 1 11-15: 15 EXT FARM HOUSE Establishing

N1 1/8 16-20: 19 Dad’s journal, marker, drawing of masked man in journal.

21-25: 23 INT IMPALA – PMP Driver picks the music

N2 1 3/8 1,2 26-30: 28pt2 INT BARN: A face from the past

28pt3 Sam and Dean say goodbye

28pt4 Shot early for technical reasons, presumably the overhead shot

N2 31-45: 41 INT MEN OF LETTERS – SAM’S ROOM Sam’s alarm goes off D4 1/8 1 46-60: 56 INT N7glasses for Sam, laptop.

So...it all fits right? It all tracks with the actual episode, where it lands, etc. The issue is between shots 29-40 which were apparently “too big to spoil.” Uh. Where are they? And where’s 28 pt4?

After Dean dies, the next scene is Sam burning him, then shot 31, the shot of his alarm going off.

So. Where are those 11ish shots?

PLUS we have the boards, which are scenes we KNOW were actually shot:

As well as scenes for 20 that were shot in 19.

It’s just...weird, it’s weird and again hits on the fact that the episode is so short and like 80% montage.

The Scrubbing of Jack, Cas, and Eileen

So now we have to reckon with the fact that Eileen was last mentioned by Sam after she got snapped by Chuck, Jack’s last mention is that he’s off being God somewhere, and Cas’ last mention is a ~knowing look~ between Dean and Bobby.

I’m sorry, make it make sense:

???????? That’s the end if it? They don’t need to be discussed after this??? It’s just simply not something a writer would do, they would not introduce these characters, these arcs, without thinking there’s going to be some kind of follow through here.

So not only were three major characters (including two leads and both of the original characters’ love interests) completely wiped from the finale episode, it was as though Sam and Dean never even needed them, which just...ain’t it.

So why Eileen and Jack too? Why not just take Cas out of it if they were afraid of the gay? Because, ultimately, the episode went back to Kripke’s original story: just the bros, they only need each other and no one else. They don’t want anyone else, they don’t need anyone else. Easier to go back to something they knew was successful than trust the writers and their audience and take a big leap.

Alex even said he shot for 20 with “some of the guys” here. What happened to that footage?

The complete 180 of it all still shocks me, I still cannot believe that we were essentially at the finish line, and the network just stopped short, and decided to go run another race, at the expense of the arc of this fifteen year legacy show.

Network Involvement and When Things Were Cut

Okay, now into the juicy stuff.

So I’ve pretty well established that network fuckery is clear, but how much did they get involved, what was the original intent?

Well again, we may never actually know what Andrew’s original script was, but I think, at the least, it would involve Dean speaking his truth to Cas and Sam living a life with Eileen.

Now, it seems today, that Misha said that Jimmy Novak was supposed to be in the finale in one iteration of the script, and while initially my brain was like “that truly makes no sense and he’s either straight up lying or telling a half truth,” I think what may be happening is Misha talking about as much as he can right now.

So Jimmy right. Weird as fuck. Why would he been in the Roadhouse and not Cas? My current thought (this is about as reachy as I’ll get) is that Jimmy had no lines, could he have been in the Roadhouse as a red herring, like it said “Jimmy” in the script but it was just Cas in human clothes, a way to get around the network saying Cas couldn’t be in the final scene. Also, you’ll notice that Misha didn’t say that Cas wasn’t supposed to be in the ep at all, just Jimmy in the last scene.

All this to say, there have clearly been multiple versions of the script, getting lighter and lighter with Cas and Eileen as the network pulled further and further back. Remember, Dabb has to get things approved before they get shot, and if the network kept asking and asking and asking to cut Cas and Eileen, he had to find a way to work around it. Granted, I still think that if we had been able to get a Dabb script that wasn’t torn to shreds in editing, it wouldn’t be so bad. It may not be what a lot of us wanted (Dean speaking his truth to Cas and a reciprocation), but doing everything he could to give it to us in subtext or visual clues.

Plus, in all honesty, my man can’t keep his story straight anyway. He said twice in his panel that the Empty and offscreen Heaven ending weren’t his original ending either.

In addition, remember that Jensen did ADR post episode 18, AND said in a meet and greet last weekend that Dean’s reaction to Cas’ confession was “cut down.” (Source here). Many of us clowns got excited when we first heard about ADR, because we thought it would be upping the ante on Dean’s reaction, but I remember being a little sus when it was just crying. My speculation on that is that they cut out Dean actually SAYING something, @winchestersingerautorepair spoke about that here.

The biggest sins were, in my opinion, committed during editing, where the network got too gun shy and sliced the episode until it was nothing but a heartless bro-fest of a finale, not mentioning anything about the other major characters that we all love, and letting the boys just suffer in separation until Sam died and finally joined Dean in Heaven. The editing came by cutting all the major emotional beats between anyone other than Dean and Sam, leaving the skeleton of the story intact, just shorter and less...poignant than it was ever supposed to be.

Misha

We know Misha was in Vancouver, we know he quarantined, but we also know he wasn’t in the final scene, when he spoke about being in the last moment of the show months ago. We were not crazy, he was there, he quarantined, and, in all likelihood (speculation but fitting with the timeline), he actually may have shot something (not much, but something).

I have sources here, here, here, and here showing where Misha was at that time.

Remember, the man was completely open about coming back until they finished shooting (look at this thread). The switch happened, just like everything else, halfway through them shooting.

Please also remember Jake Abel posting his “Where’s Misha” video here. Jake isn’t malicious, he isn’t being nasty here. Misha was there, and everyone that’s trying to convince people he’s wasn’t just...isn’t telling the truth about it.

This is one of the things that makes me really mad, because they’re literally attempting to gaslight people into thinking, “oh we were totally wrong he was never supposed to be there” WHEN HE WAS THERE, WE KNOW HE WAS THERE.

So we’ve already heard from several people (Meghan Fitzmartin, Jay, a PA on the set of 19 (WHO WAS NOT WORKING FOR 20), Misha himself) that this was all down to Covid restrictions. Ultimately, as this post says, we’ve heard FIVE versions of where Misha was. None of it makes sense, but the Covid protocol seems to be the company line that others are repeating.

You may ask: why? Why lie to all of us when we have questions? Why, in Jay’s case, say that we’re all spreading false lies to stir up trouble, when we just have questions and things that do not make sense. Simply? Warner Brothers is absolutely massive. These people have their careers to protect and are likely all under NDAs. They want to work for WB again and don’t want to burn bridges, including Misha. It sucks, but that’s why it’s unlikely that we’ll hear someone come out and say, “yeah we’re lying to you.”

Silence of the Cast Post Episode

So this is...probably the worst part of all this, at least in my opinion.

The guys had all been pretty excited about the end of the show (especially Jared, but Jensen’s panel last week was Jensen as happy and jokey and positive as I’ve ever seen him. He was so excited about episode 18, about what it meant for Dean and for Cas, and I just cannot buy that he would have been that excited unless he thought there was something more in the episode.

Misha live-tweeted the episode, and was watching it with his kids. It’s well known that Misha and the kids don’t watch the show because it’s too scary, and let’s ask ourselves, why would he have them watch an episode that he’s barely even mentioned in?

He also stopped live-tweeting at a very specific point in the episode (Dean’s death) and has not mentioned Supernatural since then.

None of them, not Jared, Jensen, Misha, or even Alex, said anything about the episode for nearly 36 hours, when Jensen posted a salty photo on instagram. It’s just...not what you’d expect for the end of a 15 year show, when the cast and crew are so close to the fans, so close to each other.

My theory? They didn’t know. They thought Misha was, at least, going to be in the episode in some way, and when he wasn’t, they decided not to say anything.

You really think that Jensen “Heller” Ackles would have been so excited about the end of the show last week if he thought Cas wasn’t going to be in it at all? Nah son, doesn’t make any sense.

Even today, in Jared and Misha’s panels, they seemed sad and...more than a little careful, both saying that there were things they couldn’t say, both talking around things that we all have questions on.

Jensen Speaking with Kripke

So this is where a lot of people are getting fodder to take shots at the writers, saying that Jensen hated it from the beginning, but I don’t think so. I actually think I know what Jensen went to him about, and it wasn’t the lack of Cas or the weird pacing or the montages (which I don’t think were there when Jensen got the script); I think it was the manner of Dean’s death.

I know a lot of people were upset about that, upset with how...normal it was, coming off an episode where they literally beat God. I actually didn’t mind it, I thought it was an interesting thematic take to be like: you can be a hero all your life, but sometimes shit happens, and you just die.

But imagine how hard that was for Jensen to read. He would run to Kripke for that, because for him, Dean dying by being impaled by a piece of rebar had to be tough to swallow.

So, why didn’t Kripke say that? Why didn’t he say, “oh well he had a problem with Dean’s death, none of that other stuff was in the script.”

Guys. Why would he get involved? He’s not going to burn bridges any more than anyone else is. He said the ending was good because it’s the easy thing to do, it’s simple, will cause him no problems in his career, and he can just ignore the people trying to engage with him on it.

Walker

Something else to talk about is the major shift this episode had from the rest of the season: the shift from Dean to Sam. I am NOT saying that Sam isn’t important, he definitely, absolutely is, but it was DEAN who really needed to wrap up his arc, Sam just needed to move on, get married to Eileen, become the leader he was always meant to. So what changed? What was with the shirtless scene, the Austin number and random case there, most of the episode being heavily Sam focused, going through his entire life in a montage?

Anyone else notice the 375 Walker promos, or Jared’s little spiel about Walker and how he hoped SPN fans would “come along for the ride.”

It’s...kinda obvious? CW wanted to appeal to who they think the key demographic of SPN and Walker is: rural areas in the South. It would explain a lot, why so much editing, why so Sam focused, the Austin number, the number of Walker promos, all of it.

I’m not saying this is fact, I don’t know that it is, but it is a little suspicious that even in Jared’s panel today, he talked A LOT about Walker and how he hopes SPN fans will watch it.

Why Would the Network Get Involved?

Simply put: $$$

If they think Walker can be the new SPN, and that those crazy SPN fans liked it originally, it’s a lot safer to go with the “original intent” of the show than do something risky (like making one of your two original leads queer).

And? They don’t care. They don’t care that the episode didn’t make sense, they don’t care that all the emotional arcs were left hanging, they don’t care by (potentially) smashing together two of Dean’s monologues (one to Sam, one to Cas) that it came of as...gross. ( @curioussubjects wrote a beautiful post showing how part of that death speech was likely meant for Dean here). They don’t care, they never have, they just want to make their money and move on from the too-loud fandom that fought for representation too hard for too long.

It can’t help but feel insidious, which, honestly, it might be, but it really all comes down to the next cash cow, which, they think, is Walker, even at the cost of the fifteen year legacy show.

The Writers and What I Want

So here it is, all this weird, sus shit laid out on the line. And you know what? To me, there is no way to blame the writers, because they didn’t want this.

I don’t think Dabb and Bobo would have gone ahead with the confession in 18 without thinking that there would be some closure to that arc, they wouldn’t have done that not only to the fans, but for the sake of their own story as well: no writer wants to start something that they can’t finish. (And this applies to both Cas and Eileen).

Here’s a basic rundown of what I think happened: they had a clear arc from 18-20, ending in reciprocation at some level from Dean, Sam marrying Eileen, Hunter Sam as the new Bobby, Dean in heaven with Cas and big roadhouse reunion at the end. Covid prevented a good amount of that. Network had to stare at big gay 18 for six months, got cold feet. Thought about Walker, target audience and alienation of the rural areas if it went full gay. Misha quarantined and likely shot something (not much), he was then cut by execs and went home. They likely added in lines referencing Eileen and Cas to make it clear but more subtextual. They wrap, editing gets it and hacks it to pieces, so we get a shorter episode that’s mostly montages and jarringly bro-centric with nothing else. Arcs are left hanging. Dabb gets episode but it’s too late, there’s nothing he can do. Actors aren’t told so they can continue to do positive PR for the ending, they all found out at the same time we did: hence almost complete silence about the finale.

And you know what? They warned us. I talked about it here, but they’ve been telling us all season that Chuck wasn’t the writer, he’s the network. I don’t think, still, that they thought it would be cut up like this, into something so unsalvageable that it’s been panned by almost everyone, even people who didn’t care much about Dean and Cas.

Finally, a masterpiece can be ruined by editing, and while I’m not sure even the script they ended up shooting on was a masterpiece (due to the network meddling already), but to me it’s blatantly obvious that it’s no one but the network that caused this, that took away closure for Dean, Cas, and even Sam.

So what do I want? Nothing really, there’s nothing we can do, but I wrote this mostly to show people that the writers are not your enemy. In fact, to the people trashing them? You’re doing exactly what the CW wants you to: blame the obvious targets, blame Misha, blame Jensen and Jared, blame Dabb. Scream and yell at them on Twitter and about how the show is ruined because of them. The network keeps their engagement levels high, they don’t get as targeted for their behavior, and just keep moving along.

Just, please, think about who did this, Mourn the show, be angry, but not at the people who fought tooth and nail for this for literal years, not the people who wanted it more than we did, not the people who cannot say anything because of their careers and the NDAs they’re bound by.

Someone is going to spill eventually, but until then, we just have to wait, and continue to be loud.

#my writing #my meta #supernatural #spn #spn finale trash fire #MY MANIFESTO IS DONE

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arty-chase · 4 years ago

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Graveyard Siblings (3)

Some for revenge and some sibling bonding.

[Masterlist]

(Part 1)(Part 2)

-------

Adrien was next to be visited. Plagg woke him up from his sleep.

-------

“Kit, wake up. I want camembert.”

“Plagg, silence. You are not getting any cheese if you do that.”

“Sorry, Adrien but you are not my ‘master’ anymore.”

“Plagg? Why are you here? Where’s the ring?”

“The ring is as far away as possible and kept safely away. I am here because someone wants to talk to you.”

“Who?”

A cloaked, hooded figure stepped out of the shadows to his room.

“Kitty. My Chaton. Did you miss me?” A sweet, familiar but yet so terrifying voice came from the figure.

She pulled down the hood to reveal Ladybug with a wicked-looking black mask with white lenses.

“What am I talking about? You do miss me. Your Bugaboo. Too bad I don’t feel the same, Adrien.”

Lightning flashed and it started to rain. The mask was gone, revealing his dead classmate, Marinette with chilling red eyes. The pigtails grew longer and curved upwards, giving the illusion of her having horns. Twin blades flashed and she leaped towards him. (Damian gave them to her with some lessons in exchange for spending time with, babysitting, the kwamis.)

Adrien scrambled away from the bed in the nick of time. A sword impaling the spot where he just was.

“Plagg, help. Where is the ring? I need to transform.”

“Sorry, kitten. I am not telling you. Even if you did have the ring, it’s not going to be much help.”

“Kitty, stay still. Then, we can be together. Just like you wanted.”

Adrien continued to dodge.

“What do you mean?” He all but screamed at Plagg.

“Pigtails, here, is a vengeful spirit. She’s not going to stop until she is satisfied. How about asking her what she wants?”

“Ladybug, what do you want?”

“What I wanted was a partner I could rely on, someone I can trust with my life, someone who wouldn’t stab me in the back for his own selfish gain. I wanted a friend who would have my back and not tell me to keep quiet at the price of my mental health and my relationships with people I care about. WAS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK?!”

She managed to get a cut on his left cheek.

Soon, he was on the ground, bleeding out on the round.

“Tell Hawkmoth that he better watch out. Because-” lightning struck and Plagg and Ladybug had disappeared, “his downfall is coming.” Her voice echoed through his room.

Adrien laid bleeding until Natalie opened the door after hearing a crash from the room and came to check on him. As she called an ambulance for Adrien, she wondered if it wasn’t too late to ask for redemption and be spared from Ladybug’s wrath for her part in her murder.

Adrien had the word ‘TRAITOR’ carved into his back. Forever reminding him of his crimes.

--------

He wasn’t in school for a week after the incident. They all were told that Adrien had an accident while fencing.

Gabriel was a little panicking now.

He hired an exorcist, (John Constantine got a hefty amount and did a few flashy magic tricks to appease Gabriel but he didn’t lift the curse Maria put on the place. She is not someone to be on the bad side of and he thinks that he can’t lift it even if he wanted to.)

Emilie gets a little sus at Gabriel when he brought this strange man with a British accent into their home after their son got attacked in his own room with security tighter than Fort Knox.

She doesn’t buy that ‘accident’ bullshit that her husband, son and even Natalie tries to sell her. She thinks it is connected to what happened while she was in a coma.

-----

Adrien has a curse too.

(Credit to @raeuberprinzessin for giving me an idea)

He couldn’t act like the ‘Perfect Adrien’ in public anymore. Acting more like Chat Noir at first then, later a spoiled brat. His friends thought that he was finally rebelling against his father and encouraged it a lot.

Adrien started criticizing other people, strangers at first then to the people working on the photoshoots to his fans to his other school mates, people in his class and his friends. (The curse planted ideas into his head about what he should say and he said them all without thinking about the effect it has on other people)

People started avoiding him not liking his attitude and his comments about how they should behave and change something about them because he doesn’t like it that way and guilt-tripping them when he doesn’t get his way. Even Nino started to distance himself after he saw how Adrien talked to a fan.

The public thought it was a phase but as he got progressively worse, people started despising him. Adrien doesn’t realize this of course so far, happy that his father let him get away with ‘ruining the Agreste image.’ (Gabriel was worried about a potential vengeful ghost and making sure his wife didn't know about his stint as a supervillain. There was also the fact that the Afterlife made more sales than him again and managed to get on the cover of Vogue when he should have, dammit.) He was finally able to say what he wanted to without repercussions. Until he realized when Nino and everyone else cancelled for a hangout for the third time that week that he was slowly losing his friends.

He panics and tries to fix the situation. He didn’t want to be alone again.

He talks to Nino about it and to his horror, he couldn’t stop himself from saying many things that were a little hurtful. (Second part. The moment he realizes he is going to be alone. He is going to find out that yes, lies can hurt people. He is going to see it happen firsthand.)

Nino moved seats and told Adrien that their friendship was on hold until he apologized.

Soon, nearly every time his mouth opened, lies and insults about his friends or their embarrassing secrets came spilling out. Everyone hated him now and Mme. Bustier tried to give him a reprimand about his behaviour, which when he tried to defend himself, he found himself unable to speak.

He managed to explain to his father what caused his unpopularity by writing what happened to him. Unfortunately due to his poor behaviour before the second part of the curse was activated, his fan base was dwindling and people didn’t like him anymore so there was a hit on the Gabriel brand.

He no longer has to do modeling, clearing his schedule. But no one would spend time with him.

The best solution he could do with his predicament was to keep quiet and endure the loneliness and the glares of his classmates at school. Adrien was relegated to the back and nearly everyone avoided him. He was now a social pariah.

Even Lila avoided him because of her own curse which made Adrien turn into one of her previous victims. (She also didn’t ponder why Marinette rarely appears compared to the others.)

If Adrien felt a tiny bit remorseful or guilty for making Marinette keep quiet or betraying Ladybug, he can gain a little control over what he says.

The curse can be broken if he apologizes to Maria herself or to her grave.

------

The first few months, while Marinette adapted to living with the Waynes, Jason stayed over at Wayne Manor because having Maria living with him at his apartment wasn’t a good idea and he had no clue how to take care of a teenage girl.

On paper she is adopted by Bruce because Jason can’t. (Some CPS reasons.)

Making Jason a little more salty towards Bruce. “I found her first. I called dibs.”

Brought Maria to meet the other Outlaws and they adopted her too. “Hey, guys. She’s my sister first.”

Jason was the one to teach her how to shoot a gun because he was ‘the most capable’ of teaching her.

The first few months were a little tense with Marinette not fully trusting them and the same with the rest of the Batfam.

Jason warmed her up a bit to him by telling a little of why he took her here.

He was also the one to book them flight to Paris with Bruce’s credit card so she can tell her friends that she wasn’t dead in person.

They bonded more after stopping some nefarious plot in Paris while they were there. Let’s say Gentleman Ghost and something involving the catacombs in Paris. (I watched some Batman: Brave and the Bold for childhood nostalgia.)

Kwamis were animal-shaped and they were interesting creatures to be around. And very very curious.

There was a stressful day for Maria when all the Kwamis decided to play hide and seek. Damian somehow got roped into helping her as the only available person in the Manor and he will deny that he enjoyed it.

Damian is the little brother she always wanted and she is more tolerable compared to his brothers. There is also the fact that she trusts him with the kwamis and deep down, he feels super-honoured. (I just love older sister!Mari)

Tim and her being insomniac/coffee buddies. There has been many many interventions to stop this.

I get that Marinette is this selfless person and loves making people happy but she has siblings now and them eating the stuff she made for herself to enjoy, should get on her nerves after a while.

She makes a box with booby-traps in which she puts in her cookies and food.

There are many different layers of traps because this is the Batfam and each of them is non-lethal and more ridiculous.

Okay, I once read a fic about Marinette making a bear-trap style box to hide the Miracle Box so this box is also like that but kept for food. (Traps and Sneaks by quicksilversquared)

Someone (I vote a hungry Dick or Jason, maybe a suspicious Bruce) made a mistake of putting their hand into the box and the first trap activated.

Screams filled the house.

Everyone came down including Marinette.

Bruce asked, “Who did this?”

“It was me.”

“Why?”

“They kept eating the cookies.”

“There are other ways to stop them from doing that you know like a ‘Do Not Touch’ sign not a death trap box.”

“They are non-lethal.”

Bruce locked it away but Tim later stole it to tweak it and store his coffee. ------ (Part 4)

#graveyard siblings #maribat #ml x dc #mlb x dc #adrien salt #adrien bashing #platonic jasonette #platonic daminette

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mandoinevarro · 5 years ago

Text

WILL BUY STOLEN GOODS FOR LOWER PRICE

Rule Maker, Rule Breaker: Chapter 1

Words: 8.4k

Rating: E

Warnings: shooting, non-descriptive death, SMUT, fingering, mentions of masturbation, AND masturbation now that I remember, penetration, creampie! just general filth, gambling?

a/n: SO literally nobody asked for this, but I decided to turn NO REFUNDS into the prologue of a short series (you don’t really need to read NO REFUNDS, it’s only for context.) Anywayyys heavy feelings, heavy plot, heavy smut. Have fun.

……………

Maker, you need to start cheating. That way you wouldn’t be in the middle of a staring contest with your cards, like you can change their colorful drawings and numbers if you only glare hard enough. You’ve never been particularly good at sabacc, but a little luck wouldn’t hurt, especially since this is the third round in a row you lose. Duma deals the last couple of cards across the coal black table and stacks the deck, signaling the start of the game.

Well, you suppose it doesn’t really matter; you doubt your sabacc buddies have better hands. These days, everyone in Nevarro is short on luck. Luck and food and water. Others are less pessimistic: As soon as Greef Karga glances at his hand he leans back on the carcass of a cantina booth and slaps his belly. “Ha!” he bellows, “by the end of this round, you filthy gutter womp rats will have to borrow from your womp rat mothers to pay me.”

“Quit bluffing, Karga. We know you don’t have shit,” Cara mutters. She picks up her cards and pulls a face like she bit on lemon, but still the veteran goes all in, pushes forward a couple of stabilizing coils, an identity beacon you could’ve sold at a decent price some months ago and—maker—even a pouch of nova crystal dust. Nobody here is stupid enough to gamble with food, but you’re surprised that even nova has lost its worth and been demoted to casino chip status. “This place smells like shit.”

“Bad bluff, piss-poor trash talk too,” you taunt. “Looks like all that time doing business with Imperials smoothed your brain, Karga.”

“Ex-Imperials,” he corrects. The ex-Guild leader slides a few more credits to the center of his ex-cantina’s table. “We live in a jolly Republic now, didn’t you hear? You’ve been liberated.”

“Fuck ‘em.” Duma turns her head, spits on the melted floor. “Can’t eat liberation, can I?” She throws a few more worthless credits onto the growing pile of nothing. At least, for now, it’s nothing. Credits and ship parts and every other type of currency haven’t meant anything but props in Nevarro for five months, when the siege began. That whole mess with troopers and Greef and Cara was bound to bring some repercussions—aside from making Karga’s cantina look like a volcano erupted inside. For five months, Imperial forces have surrounded the planet, and for five months, food and resources haven’t been allowed inside. They won’t let up, rumor has it, until they find the culprit: one particular Mandalorian with a valuable asset. They think he’s still hiding somewhere in the planet, but you know better. You watched the Razor Crest’s fly off-orbit and leave everything behind. Everything and everyone.

“This place smells like shit,” Cara repeats.

“Not shit,” replies Duma, “ash.” She picks up a card from the deck with long fingers. “You never did explain how that Mandalorian managed to torch this place.”

Cara’s sabacc face melts. Her fingers tighten and bend her cards as she exchanges a complicit look with Greef. “Never said it was Mando.”

“Who else? I was there in the first shootout. That hunter was fierce.” Duma dons a wolfish smile, because this is how she always wins: She plays with people, not cards. In fact, she abandons her hand face-down on the table and—oh no—gives you a once-over. “You knew him well, didn’t you?” You almost want to show her your garbage hand so she doesn’t bother trying to throw you off your inexistent game.

“Swung by the store a couple of times,” you answer as casually as you can manage and pretend the most interesting book is written on your cards. “But we weren’t exactly chummy, if that’s what you’re asking.” Creeping warmth attacks your face and there’s no stopping it. Shit.

“Funny, could swear I saw him leaving your store more than a couple of times.” You feel Duma’s eyes piercing into your forehead. “Pretty late at night, too.”

“Is that so?” Cara pipes with a lopsided grin.

“I thought you two were…friends,” Duma adds.

“Yeah, well,” you mutter, “you thought wrong.” Friends don’t leave friends to their luck in the middle of a fucking siege. It’s the same prickly thought that’s plagued you since you watched the Mandalorian take off triumphantly. It’s a stupid feeling. He was under no obligation to take you with him. You didn’t lie to Duma, you two weren’t friends. You couldn’t even call what you had a fling, even those require some degree of making-love-below-the-stars, quoting-passages-of-Naboo-Nights-to-each-other romance. Flings are shooting stars. No, your…thing, whatever it was, did not belong to the heavens. It was earthy. Human. It was counting credits and arguing about fuel prices or old modulators. It had weight—too much, apparently, to escape gravitational pull and fly away with him on the Crest. It was doomed to planets, both feet planted on the ground.

Still, you remember times when earthy was good. There was never anything airy or celestial in the way he’d take you. The shoved clothes, the harsh grunts, the rough hands, the pleasure, it was all palpable and primitive; earthy was dirty. Your furtive encounters had beating heart of their own, and there was always hard evidence left behind in case either of you ever needed a reminder: marks on the skin, ripped clothes, stained bedsheets. The bruises he left always took too long to heal, as if his touch enhanced your mortality, made you more human. Stars, those moments are what you miss the most. Five months is a long time to be neglected of touch—six, actually: five months since the siege, six since he last came to you. Earthy expires.

It’s not like there’s nobody in the planet willing to help you soothe your needs; quite the opposite, actually. Lately, it seems like handjobs are the new Nevarran handshake. Just last week you caught Cara feeling up some pretty market girl in an alley. You saw her, she saw you, you rolled your eyes, she grinned and got back to work. You were almost offended. Everybody’s screwing their time through the siege, while you’re left with nothing but reruns of filthy memories with the Mandalorian. You just know nobody but Mando will do. You replay your moments with him like a sad, mental porno on the nights you spend trying to get yourself off. Trying and failing, like having to put out a fire by spitting on it, because the only person in the galaxy with a hose is too busy playing hero lightyears away.

“Last round. Place your bets,” Karga announces and pushes a few more trinkets forward. Cara follows, and you pat around your pockets for something to lose. It’s all just rusted metal anyways. Only…shit, the last three games drained you. And Duma reads it on your face like you’ve got “BROKE” written all over your forehead.

“All out, huh?” She reaches down the table for her bag and drops a beskar pauldron on the table with a thud. A Mandalorian pauldron.

Cara purses her lips and balls a fist, but Greef shoots her a warning look. As if cantina brawls could make this place look worse.

“Still can’t believe you didn’t take anything that day,” Duma continues, shaking her head. “Regret it?”

“I’ll regret it,” you answer and go fish, as if a new card—the right card—could fix a life’s worth of bad luck, “when you learn how to chew beskar.” That earns you a signature “Ha!” from Karga and a cocked eyebrow from Duma. She can arch her eyebrows all she wants, but that much is also true. You don’t regret leaving the Mandalorian covert empty-handed.

You were the first on scene that day. After the smoke cleared, the remaining imps left to lick their wounds, and the Crest flew away, you went to check on Karga’s child, his pride and joy. You were met with a gruesome scene. The cantina, Nevarro’s most sacred landmark, had been reduced to its black skeleton, third-degree burns all over, gone. It sounds dramatic, but the cantina used to be the closest thing to a place of worship on this planet. God Booze was dead.

You kicked around the bar’s guts, until you found a gaping mouth on a wall, leading down, down, down into Nevarro’s entrails. Finding purgatory would’ve surprised you less than what you stumbled upon: an underground tunnel, an abandoned covert, and a sinister, unguarded pile of Mandalorian armor. Stars, it would’ve been so easy. You could’ve hoarded the spoils and stashed them away for better days. That amount of beskar could’ve bought you a one-way ticket out of this dumpster and an early retirement. But when you lifted a helmet, it stared back. It was blue and definitely not his, but Mando was all you could think of while you studied the helmet’s unique curves and creases. You heard his exasperated sighs when you got on his nerves, his moans when you’d touch him. And you just couldn’t do it. You sat back and watched as this skughole’s scavengers crept into the tunnels to pillage. Easy as that, everyone in Nevarro but you and Cara now has a beskar toy or two. Soon enough, this planet will house the wealthiest corpses in the galaxy if the siege is not lifted before reserves run out.

Karga clears his throat. “Well, ladies first. Let’s see those cards.”

Duma ignores him. “You know,” she tells you, “I’ve more beskar than I know what to do with. I’ll trade you a vembrance for a couple of ration packs.”

“And what am I supposed to do with a Mandalorian vembrance, play dress up?”

“The cards,” Greef urges.

“You’ll be rich.”

You snort. “The rich don’t starve.”

“Give me a break, we both know you’ve got portions to spare.”

Elbows on the table, you lean forward and closer to Duma. She sniffs weakness like a Corellian hound, and if you falter she’ll sink her fangs. “I’m not interested in your fucking loot.”

“Cause it’s stolen? You never had a problem with that before.” She mimics your move and leans closer. Karga fiddles with a coinage of calamari flan, like you’re both Canto Bight slot machines and he’s trying to decide where to put his money. “What, did you grow morals all of a sudden? Or maybe, you’re too worried of what your Mandalorian friend would think.” You flinch. She smirks. “Oh my, what would the disgraced hunter, code-breaker, cult member say—”

The tiny noise of Karga’s coinage clinking on the table is not enough to distract you from the verbal beating Duma is laying on you. But his voice—like he got the air knocked out of him—is enough to grab your attention when he murmurs, “Ask him yourself.”

Cara, Duma, and you turn to Greef Karga, who stares saucer-eyed at the window. All three of your heads move simultaneously, guided by the line of his eyesight. Outside the window, on the deserted street, stands a trooper barking orders. It’s one of those in all-black armor, the extra trigger-happy ones with a side of god complex because they think the change of color magically makes their aim less shitty. His blaster is drawn (surprise, surprise), and on the receiving end of its barrel…

Maker’s fucking mercy.

You don’t even see the blaster shot, only smoke snaking out of a hole on the shiny breastplate. The trooper plummets to the ground like his puppeteer cut off his strings: no last steps, no resistance. Now, anyone else would’ve walked away from what’s clearly worm food without a second look, but one does not become the best bounty hunter in the parsec by taking chances. A mountain of unpainted beskar looms over the corpse and kicks the blaster off the imp’s limp hand. The Mandalorian sheathes his own weapon—that blaster you’ve tweaked and polished so many times you know it as the palm of your hand—and scans the perimeter for danger.

You don’t tell your legs to move, but they don’t need the command. You find yourself trailing behind Cara, Duma, and Greef, rushing for the door. Outside, all four of you stumble and stop on your tracks to blink stupidly at the Mandalorian, the way children stare wide-eyed at soldiers on military parades. But this warrior stands grander than any Republic or Imperial officer you’ve ever seen. He’s clad head to toe in silver beskar—except for one armorless thigh that makes his other leg look even bulkier. His old armor, the one you used to shine and buff, is gone. This one you’ve only seen from afar, on that day he crashed the imps’ safehouse, and later when the battle broke out. You know it’s him, but in this new getup it’s easy to doubt. Maybe he’s a stranger. Maybe he won’t recognize you.

The Mandalorian studies each of you one by one, his hand near the blaster in case he spots any enemy faces. The hand twitches when he sees Duma—she doesn’t have the cleanest reputation around here—but she’s shocked and unarmed, so his arm relaxes. To Greef and Cara he gives short nods that they return.

And then you. He actually takes a step back when he spots you, like you pushed him square on the chest. The helmet lingers on you and tilts, shamelessly rakes over every feature like he’s memorizing you. You hold your breath. It reminds you of the day you met, that weight on your chest from knowing you’ve been seen. That’s how you know it really is Mando: Whenever he stares at you, you feel it in your bones.

You realize the moment’s dragged out for too long when Karga clears his throat. The spell breaks.

You and Mando look bashfully away from each other. You squint up at the clouds, your hands stiff on your waist in a forced, generic, looks like rain! pose. He turns to his boss (ex-boss? enemy? You never asked for an update on Mando’s most recent status in the Guild) and mutters a short, “Karga.” To Cara he’s warmer, offers a comradely clasp of hands and a pat on the shoulder. “Good to see you again.”

“You too,” Cara drawls, as she stares suspiciously between you and Mando. You squint harder at the clouds. “Didn’t expect you back during a siege, though.”

“I have to…” he spies a furtive glance at Duma and lowers his voice, “I’ve something to do here.”

Duma rolls her eyes and clasps her bag across her chest. “Don’t worry, Mando. I’ll leave you girls to catch up on the hot goss.” She strides into the cantina (probably to bag the bets, the asshole), and goes back outside.

She points at the window of a crumbling building. “Careful with snitches.”

You glance back to the window. Nothing. Jerk. Duma’s not above a made you look moment, apparently. You turn back to her but she’s already disappearing into an alley.

Cara waits until she’s gone to grab the Mandalorian by the arm. “Mando, where’s the…” she glances at you and hesitates. You fold your arms and raise your eyebrows at the veteran. If she expects you to leave graciously like Duma she’s got another thing coming. You’re actually very, very interested on the Mandalorian’s hot goss. Especially it comes with an explanation as to why he left you stranded here. Even though he doesn’t owe you one. Technically. “Y’know,” she finally says and drops her hand. “The asset.”

“On the ship. I need to get back.”

“You, my friend, need to lay low,” Greef says with a raised index. “Every imp in Nevarro will be looking for you. Maker—” he spreads his arms “—they already are! And someone must have heard the blaster shot. You have ten minutes or so until an Imperial squadron gets here. The, uh, asset will be fine.”

“The asset,” Cara exclaims, “is a ch—is…is delicate. He can’t just leave it on the Crest!”

Mando interrupts their game of taboo. “Cara,” he starts, “you go to the ship and check on…the asset. Please. I landed where I did last time. I…I’ll lay low in the covert.”

“About that,” Greef mumbles. He looks at Cara for support, but she steps back and raises both hands: You say it. Greef sighs. “They…they found the tunnels, Mando.”

The helmet crooks slowly to study Karga. “Who’s they?”

“Everyone. Half of Nevarro is living down there, you…you can’t go back.”

Silence.

You imagine all four of you go through the same checklist: Even if Cara didn’t already have a top-secret assignment with whatever the asset is, she doesn’t have a place of her own yet. Every week, she crashes on one of her sweethearts’ couches. On their beds, more likely. There’s no way Karga is letting him near his house, not after what happened at the cantina. That leaves…

“Stay with me,” you blurt before you can really think it through.

≈

The cramped storage room you call a home sits a story above your store. It’s four walls and only the essentials: a bed, an armchair, a table, a stove, and the only detached room is the refresher. It’s enough for you. But the Mandalorian looks like he squeezed into a dollhouse when you usher him inside and close the door behind you. He stands in the middle of the room, all fighter’s bulk and grandiose armor, like he’s afraid he’ll break something if he moves. As if he’s never been here before, which couldn’t be further from the truth. The apartment may be small, but it’s so filled with memories you could turn it into a museum of your dirty escapades with him. And if you look to your right, you’ll see the armchair where he sat while I went down on him on a stormy night.

“So,” you say and lean against the front door, “business or pleasure?”

He moves to stand to the side of the window opposite the front door and his glove moves the old washed out curtain to the side to peer into the street. The sun is setting, and the last streaks of light paint the beskar with warped yellow-orange streaks that stay as still as an undisturbed pond. So this is how he wants the evening to go: quietly and with a reasonable amount of distance between you. Disappointment knots in your stomach.

“Business.”

You open your mouth to cut into the silence, but you’re all out of words. Maybe you’ve lost your touch. It used to be so easy to tease him, but now…a heaviness seems to weigh down on his shoulders, some heightened sense of duty. But also determination: He stands taller now, prouder, like he woke up one day and knew exactly what he needed to do and why. Whatever that purpose is, you’re pretty sure it doesn’t involve you. You’re a detour, and not even the fun kind, judging by the space between you. Maker, this man used to pounce on you. Has the siege really battered you up that much?

“Been busy?” The sudden question startles you. He’s never been one to break the ice, that was usually your job.

“Sure.” Nope, not at all. “Store and all.” You closed the store three months ago. Turns out nobody buys equipment for their ships when they can’t fly past the atmosphere. “Plus, somebody needs to keep Karga distracted from his mourning. You owe him a cantina.”

“He told I did that?”

“Just a guess.” You move a couple of steps forward, like you’re approaching a nervous lothcat. When he doesn’t move away, you sit on the armchair, a little closer to him. “You like that flamethrower too much.”

“That what you four were doing in there?” The helmet moves to the side so he can spy deeper down the street. Always careful. “Assessing my damage?”

“No, just sabacc. Different kind of damage.” He’s making small talk. The Mandalorian, whom you’ve overheard have conversations solely based on grunts and sighs, is chatting with you. He’s not just answering out of politeness, he’s prompting you to go on, to keep running your mouth. That’s something he said once between thrusts, perched over you right on this floor: Keep running your mouth, see what happens. The memory warms your neck. Maker, not the point. The point is, before, he always said you had a smart mouth. Sometimes he’d chastise you for it, other times he’d encourage it. And you used to have the suspicion (or, let’s face it: fantasy) that he actually liked it. That somewhere hidden, beyond his pride and honor’s jurisdiction, he enjoyed the teasing and the banter, the challenge of having to deal with you. Better yet: More than once it crossed your mind that he got off on it, too. It’s been a long time, but some of that might remain. Maybe you’ll take his advice: keep running your mouth, see what happens.

You sit straighter, arch your back a bit just in case he’s watching. “You interrupted a round with your little stunt.”

“Yeah?” The helmet doesn’t move, but his hand runs up the curtain, considering. “Sorry. I bet you were winning.”

That makes you smile. It’s a dig at you. Far and wide across Nevarro, your uncanny ability to lose every single game of sabacc you play baffles locals and foragers alike. Yes, you know you suck, but the game amuses you anyways. You like the trash talk, the double-guessing, the bluff-calling. So much so that you forget to actually play. But what’s important is he’s teasing you, and that’s more than charted territory with him, a match you have a shot at winning. Okay. Game on.

“I was, actually.”

He huffs. “Don’t believe you.”

“Then I don’t believe you’re here on business.” Pause for effect. You can almost see a question mark form in a cloud above the helmet. You lean forward and lick your lips, lower your voice. “I think you missed me.”

You’re used to the helmet’s features remaining impassive, so you don’t look for clues on there anymore. Mando’s hands are more telling. You want to believe you actually see his fingers twitch and clutch the curtain a little tighter, that he takes too long to answer. That’s what trying to read him is all about—blind-guessing and wishful thinking.

“Don’t know about that. Six months and two weeks without your cons, I’m almost rich.”

Down to the week, huh? “Okay, if you want to make it about money we’ll bet on it. Twenty credits says you missed me.”

“Last time I was here you weren’t a compulsive gambler. Store’s doing that bad?”

“Last time you were here,” you coo, “there was a lot less talking involved.” You stare into the visor, and pray he can’t see the desperate hope in your eyes.

Your prayers are answered. In a way. Mando ignores you, doesn’t even look at you. You hear your clumsy attempt at seduction buzz around him like a one-winged bee, crash into the unmoving, unmoved Mandalorian, and fall to the floor in a pointed-lined spiral. You’re so embarrassed you want to step on it. Well, that settles it. Six months is apparently enough for a Mandalorian to lose interest.

“And store’s doing fine,” you lie to try and sway the conversation away from that lame innuendo that missed its mark. He really just wants to talk, then. No big deal. It’s fine. “Nobody gambles for money anyways.”

“Then why?”

You shrug. “Why do you hunt?” He’s never told you, but you saw him chase down a bounty once. He was ruthless, sweating adrenaline and with far too much stamina to only be chasing a bag of credits. “For the risk. The thrill.”

He lets your words float for a second. “You get a thrill out of losing?”

You roll your eyes. “I only lose cause everybody knows my bluff.” That is, except you. “You need to know someone to know their bluff. Greef and the others already know me too well. You, on the other hand.” You smile. “If you and I played, I’d get to keep so much of your stuff you’d think I’m half Jawa.”

And, only then, he seems to tense. That stupid throwaway line is what makes his spine grow visibly rigid and his hand drop from the curtain to his belt, where the leather of his glove creaks with how tightly he clutches the buckle. White and blue streetlights that reflect on his armor glide around like it’s water instead of beskar, and they’re your only indication that he’s shifted slightly. Slowly, so slowly you expect his neck to creak like a door, the Mandalorian turns away from the window to look at you. He holds there quietly, and you feel ants running down your back…stars, you’re nervous. For the first time in a while, he makes you genuinely anxious.

“You’re saying I don’t know you?” he rasps under the helmet. No, not really, but if it gets a reaction out of him…

“All I’m saying,” you start, summoning all your strength to keep your voice from faltering, “is you’ve been gone too long.” You try to make it sound a bit playful, but the words come out tasting bitter when you remember the sharp little edge that’s been digging on your side. He left you here, it whispers, he left you here and didn’t bother looking back. But a heavy boot suddenly drops forward and you’re forced to stop nursing your grudge to try and predict what Mando’s next move will be.

With every step he takes, you’re instinctively swallowed deeper into your armchair, until he’s looming over you. Stars above, the sheer size of him is enough to block out most of the artificial light coming in, and you’re left to squint in the blue twilight. Maker, you don’t remember him this big, this intimidating. Five months ago you would’ve smirked and opened your legs wide. C’mon, I don’t bite unless you ask, you would’ve teased, but now…now you think maybe you are the one who doesn’t know him anymore.

But some things never change, and having him so near still makes your thighs press together. If anything, this new foreignness, the inherent threat of a bounty hunter in your home that never quite poked the right nerve before now pulls on your most sensitive areas. It propels your heartbeat on a sprint. His arm moves, and—oh, you want him to touch you.

Visor trained on you, Mando points to the floor instead. “You hide your credits here.” To illustrate (or just to rub it in that he knows) his boot presses down on the loose tile and shifts from side to side. The sharp sound it makes irritates you less than knowing he found the fox clever hiding spot you used to pat yourself on the back for. “You don’t keep them in the store because it’s too easy to break into. The security panel downstairs is broken, but the one up here works fine.”

You can almost hear his proud smirk under the helmet. There’s a reserved side to him, sure, but bastard can be arrogant when he wants to. And no, you have no idea how he found the spot, but you’re not about to admit it.

“Congrats, boy scout. You can spot a busted panel and you have flat feet. Want a badge?” Your irritation brings back some of your old snark, but you still flinch when he moves closer and his legs brush against your knees.

“You also keep expensive parts inside the stuffing of this—” he takes a tiny step forward and frames your knees with his legs “—armchair.” Your blood freezes at his words, but it abruptly runs hot as the city’s lava river when you realize how close he stands now. His legs press against the armchair and there’s nowhere to go. You’re cornered.

A leather glove moves close and you hold your breath, before you realize he’s only toying with the tips of your hair. But his fingers dig deeper, tangle on thicker strands and, without warning, give a short but firm tug. It’s a tiny pull, but maker’s mercy, you feel your core pulse. And then, before you can regain some lucidity, his fingers dip lower, where the tips trace a slow line down your nape. He draws featherlight circles on that spot between your neck and your shoulder that he knows makes your toes curl, and—stars, it’s just been too long—you whimper.

“Still so sensitive here,” he whispers.

Once, this shielded man knew his way around your body like it belonged to him. You thought that part of him was lost, that he forgot, that he’d truly been gone too long. Those fears dissipate when his palm curls around the back of your neck to hold your gaze on him, while the thumb of his other hand brushes your lips. You know the drill—you open your mouth and give the orange tip some kitten licks. Mando huffs: You can do better than that. Maker, it should be a red flag, how quickly you comply. That urgent need to please him that had never, ever felt so crucial. An O forms in your lips before you can stop them, and his thumb pushes down on your tongue deep and deeper. You should play hard, make him earn it, bite him. But his finger starts to retreat and you panic—no, he can’t change his mind, not now. You seal your lips, trap him inside your mouth and suck. But his grip on the back of your neck grows beskar stiff, and he forcefully removes his finger…only to glide the spit over your lips. Just like that first time.

The visor looms closer to your face, and you catch a ruptured sigh, the pleasured kind that these four walls know so well. If Mando wasn’t holding you down, your chest would balloon with satisfaction and you’d float. His thumb trails down your throat, wetting its path and no doubt feeling the vibration when you chuckle. He cocks his head to the side in a silent question.

“You owe me twenty credits,” you explain, your breath clouding the helmet’s surface. “You did miss me.”

Mando crouches lower, where his helmet brushes your nose, and gropes the tops of your thighs with those wide palms you’ve been dreaming about for weeks.

“Yeah? You like bets?” You’ve never heard his voice so coarse, scratchy like week-long stubble. Did he change the settings of his modulator? Or is it just rash, pent-up need? “Then thirty credits says you’re fucking soaked.” His fingers butterfly higher up your thighs, almost at the apex. Your legs jerk.

“That’s cheating,” you gasp.

He takes one glove off and settles the covered hand on your hip, while the other disappears between your legs until—stars—he cups your core through your pants. You mewl and he hums when he feels the hot, damp fabric.

“I still win.” He presses the heel of his palm right into your clit and grinds it back and forth. Oh, if you thought you were wet before. The pressure, the friction, him—it all scalds you from head to toe like a fever, but you chase it, greedily push your hips into his palm. His fingers flatten along your slit and grope you tighter. “Gonna pay me? Doesn’t have to be credits.” He pushes viciously into you with that wide, hard palm, preening at the little gasps that escape you. Whimpering, you let your eyes fall shut and focus on something sprouting in your belly. Stars, you’re close—how the fuck are you so close already? It must be all the repressed desire, all that time. Fuck, you’re close—

The Mandalorian halts. You’re eyes flash open to see him straighten and step back, take his other glove off to stuff it snug between his belt and his hip, and remain still as a building. Still catching your breath, you study him head to toe, scanning for a sign of what went wrong. He’s clutching his belt, his stance is too smug. This isn’t him fighting temptation, he’s toying with you. Maker help him, you’re going to kill him. Some corner in your brain reasons that it’s kinda fair, as payback for all the times you messed with him. But in the forefront of your mind pulses the climax he just denied you, cast aside and angry.

Before you know what you’re doing, you push yourself off the armchair. “You—”

Mando beats you to it. A hand on your shoulder and a vembrance across your chest, he lunges forward and slams your back against a wall. He hovers over you, tightly pressed against your body. A fleshy, hard bulge covered by his pants throbs against your belly. Of course. You forgot how much he likes it when you look like prey; how much he enjoys the hunt, whether he admits it or not. The hand on your shoulder trails down to cup your breast. You squeeze your eyes shut and let out a shaky exhale.

“You need it bad,” he breathes as his fingers massage your chest. The movement shifts the fabric of your tunic, brushing it against your nipple. You roll your hips to try and stimulate him, to show you’re not the only one worked up. His erection twitches and you smile.

“You—mmm—you’re projecting.” You grind again to prove your point, but he catches on to what you’re implying and retaliates by shoving his hand inside your cleavage. Stars, you have to punch down the moan surges up your throat when he pinches your nipple.

“You missed this,” Mando hisses, and whether he’s trying to convince you or himself, you don’t know. What you do know is he’s plotting to settle this stupid inkling of a bet in his favor. He wants you to admit you missed him so he doesn’t have to. You know, because it’s exactly what you are trying to do.

You sneak your hand down his torso, aiming for the hem of his pants—but before you can get even with him, he crushes his hips against yours and traps your palm between them. And he’s not done—he wedges his thigh between your legs and rubs it up and down, drags your clit just right. Your mouth gapes in a silent moan as white hot pleasure lights up your spine. You want to get away from it but, maker, his forearm is still stiff against your chest. Even when you grab the vembrance with your free hand it doesn’t budge. You’re trapped between him and the wall.

“Can take care of m-myself just fine,” you croak as a last attempt to hold on to your dignity. “At least when I’m alone I don’t have to fake any orgasms.”

Yeah, it’s a low blow. A dirty fucking lie too, but desperate times call for desperate measures and all. Good news is it gets you a reaction—he immediately stops moving, as if your words punched him off balance. Bad news is you hit a nerve—his breathing becomes harsh like a bull’s, so much so that you expect clouds of smoke to come out from under the helmet. The Mandalorian creeps closer to your face and his forearm digs deeper into your chest. There’s a promise of danger in the dark visor that makes your pulse race, and a primitive instinct blasts emergency sirens. Maker, this won’t end well for you.

Just as you’re about to backtrack and whisper you didn’t mean it, Mando lets go of you—only for a split second, before he grasps your shoulders and turns you around to push your front into the wall. You jerk back on instinct, but he flattens a palm between your shoulder blades and squishes you right back against it.

The helmet rests right next to your ear when Mando growls, “You expect me to believe that?” His hands drop to your hips as he replaces the pressure on your back with his chest. His body weight holds you in place, and he rocks the hard outline of his erection along your ass. “That I don’t make you cum, you little fucking—” You curl your back as much as his body allows so he can stroke himself tighter against you. He groans and kneads your cheeks, moves the flesh in tandem with his thrusts. “I shouldn’t let you tonight, t-teach you a lesson.”

The mere suggestion feels devastating enough to let a pathetic whine tumble from your lips. Before, you could’ve turned this into a game, held out a little longer just to watch him break first. But you’re too pent up, too desperate, too sick of waiting. Your fingers hook on the hem of your trousers and push them down. Mid-movement, he traps both of your wrists in one hand and keeps them pressed against your lower back, while the other one gets your pants the rest of the way down, underwear too. You barely have enough time to step out of them before his free hand reaches between the apex of your thighs. You’re sticky, leaking around his fingers, and pushing back against his crotch like you’ll drop dead if he doesn’t fuck you.

“Fucking wet, fuck…” he mutters. His fingers follow the heat and your pussy clenches around nothing. Stars, if he just moved higher, a little higher where you’re hot and soaked and throbbing for him. But he takes his sweet time, molds the inside of your thighs like clay, pulls the flesh, squishes it together, until you’re writhing against him and leaking down your leg. Your vision blurs. “Can—can I…?” He lets his index finish the sentence, teasing at the edges of your outer lips.

Even with the side of your face against the wall, you manage to nod. “Yeah,” you breathe.

Two fingers slide around your folds and you gasp. Mando moves slowly, collecting your arousal and coating his fingers. Your breath catches when the tips finally push into your entrance—only a fraction before they slide back out, so the rest of his palm can cup along your cunt and drag more slick behind it. He’s strategically avoiding your clit, though, and with both arms behind your back and at his mercy, you can’t reach for it yourself. Fuck, you…you only need to hold on a bit more, he’ll get bored of his game soon enough. That’s it, just a little longer. You waited six months, no way he’s making you beg after a few minutes of teasing.

The Mandalorian eventually pulls his fingers away from your thighs and curses under his breath. You hear the familiar rustling of fabric and a divine zip that fills your eyes with tears of relief. Fucking finally. You brace yourself and relax your pelvic floor in preparation, but it’s barely necessary—you’re so ready for it. Your cunt is open and weeping, he can just slide it in. All this time, with nothing substantial inside you, your lower muscles pump and twist painfully with demanding want. Even with his size and in this position, you’re so turned on he might even be able to bottom out. Fuck, he doesn’t have to move much, a few good pumps and he’ll have you cumming, easy. Stars, what’s taking so damn long—

A modulated, battered moan and a wet noise make you turn your head over your shoulder and look for the source. The low light makes it difficult to make out shapes, but there’s no mistaking what you find below you. Hand wrapped solid around his cock, Mando is jerking himself off. With your cum as lubricant. While he treats you like a piece of furniture he’s only gripping for support. A chemical cocktail of lust mixed with fury spikes your blood.

“Is…wh-what are…what the fuck do you think y-you’re…”

“Say it,” he spits between his teeth, “say you f-fucking need me.”

No, no fucking way. As much as the words burn on your tongue and your clit tugs and begs, you’re not saying it. He left, not you. You waited for him. You turn your head as far back as your neck allows without snapping a ligament and look straight into the visor. And pointedly curl your lips inside your mouth, sealed.

Your act of rebellion lasts a good ten seconds.

“You’re so fucking difficult,” he snarls. He stops tugging on his cock, and for a moment you hope he might indulge you, push into you and stop the masochist torment you’ve talked yourselves into. But when it comes to Mando and you, it’s never that easy. Still not releasing your wrists, he grabs the base of his cock, glistening with your stolen juices, and rubs it up and down the swell of your uncovered ass. You gasp, let your lips part and your gaze fall to where he’s rubbing up against you and refusing to push inside.

He's not going to last long. Swollen and a strangled purple, the head of his cock dribbles warm precum and smears it on your lower back. The veins on his length throb against your ass, and stars, they’d feel so much better inside you. The Mandalorian’s grunts and groans ring more frustrated than lost in pleasure; it’s not enough for him either. He’s torturing you and himself just to prove a point, while you refuse to speak the magic words just to keep your pride. Desperate tears threaten to spill, but you shut your eyes to push them back. Either of you could put an end to it, right now. Maker, it’s on the tip of your tongue: I need you. Spit it out, end it. I need you, Mando, I need you, do whatever you want with me. It doesn’t matter that you abandoned me in this shithole, that you discarded me like faulty equipment, that you didn’t even have the decency to tell me—

The thrusting stops. When you open your eyes, you find the visor fixed on you, cocked slightly to the side, like there’s writing on your face. Mando’s grip on your wrist softens, his frustrated panting slows. Maybe he sees the unshed tears, or maybe your face really is that transparent, because he takes pity on you. Gentle palms on your shoulders, he turns you around to face him.

Night has fallen. Fragments of fluorescent light pour inside through your worn out curtains and give the helmet a fuzzy silver halo. The rest of the armor is shiny black, smudges of light here and there. His head moves around the features of your face, one by one, taking its time. Showdown’s over. He’s not playing a game anymore, not trying to get you to break, he’s just…studying you. Staring his fill of you farewell-style, even though he just came back. It hits you that you don’t know how long he’s staying this time. You open your mouth to ask, but stop yourself in time. If he leaves, he leaves. He doesn’t owe you any explanations.

But when he curls an arm around your waist and holds you against the wall and his cold breastplate, it doesn’t feel like goodbye. It feels like old times—pre-siege, pre-battle, pre-everything—when he confidently grabs your left thigh, sinks his fingers into the plump flesh, and hooks it on his lower back. You drape your arms around his shoulders and hold him closer. You’ve always liked the bulk of him against you, it makes everything feel more real. Buried on the crook of your neck, you hear him sigh when he lets go of your thigh and blindly searches your cunt. With your leg around his back you’re completely open for him, so it takes him no time to find your bud. He presses against it and rubs it in slow but tight circles that make your legs cramp.

You push down on him, demanding more. He groans and complies, inserts one finger and continues rubbing on your clit with his thumb. Maker, this has no right to be so good. He’s doing pretty much the same you’ve done to yourself these past months, but with Mando there are never any ghost sensations, no what ifs. It’s all here and now, and you swear you feel the pleasure of his fingers picking up speed in every corner of your body. He has you moaning and rocking your hips, dripping down his hand, and when he starts rubbing you harder and tighter, you finally whine a tiny, “Please.”

The Mandalorian doesn’t need to ask what you want, but he moves his helmet to look at you square in the face, check if you mean it. You stare droopy-eyed into the visor and nod: yesyesyesyes. Mando groans and grips you tighter. Maker, he’s right, you need it—need the bruises, need his cock, need all of him.

“Fuck,” he breathes. His hand leaves you to grab his cock and guide it to your entrance. He moves it around your lips and brushes his tip against your clit as he looks for your hole in the dark. It doesn’t take long for the head to poke right outside where it needs to go. “Fuck, I don’t—don’t think I can hold back, don’t want to hurt you—”

“Stars, please,” you whine, “I want it rough.” You want it more than rough. After six months, you want it fucking depraved, but neither of you is going to last long enough to make it elaborate. Maker, you don’t care. Right now, you don’t care for risky positions or clever techniques, you want him.

He groans and pushes inside—only the head, still testing, but your walls immediately grip him tightly to hinder any attempts to move away. That’s not what you should’ve been worried about. Fingers tight around your waist, Mando pulls you down as he pushes up. Stars. The brutal thrust reaches the end of you and then some more. Fuckfuckfuck. The dull bam of your skull hitting the wall is suddenly drowned by a slicker, filthier sound coming from between your legs. His length begins to pull out, your pussy complains the whole way, and you can almost hear the Mandalorian gritting his teeth through the sweet torture of feeling you squeeze around him…and thrust back up—harder. He likes the pace and sticks to it—fast, rough, deep, repeat—while you make sounds like you’re choking on air. Stars, it has been long. Long enough to partially forget his size, his fucking girth, currently filling you to the brim and punching high little sounds from your throat.

“Mmmando,” you sob.

Mando groans in response, snakes a hand down to your clit and rubs with the same wild abandon as his pounding. Maker, your memory was never this fucking good. No matter how many details you recalled, there’s nothing compared to the real, human meat of his cock pulsing urgently inside you, hitting your cervix, making you whine. Nothing like his fingers around your waist, or knowing there’ll be bruises tomorrow. The pleasure has teeth, carries a painful bite, but it’s exactly what you need. That tangible grit in his thrusts and his fingers is the missing piece. Your muscles start cramping, you pull him tighter against you—Maker, right there, you can feel it. It reaches your head and makes you dizzy, sheds light on some hidden, shameful words.

“Mando, I…”

“I—fuck—I n-needed this,” he grunts and brings his hand down to feel where his cock is inching out of you, like he has to double check it’s actually happening. Thrust. “Used—used to d-dream about you.” Thrust. Three fingers now push into your clit and draw frantic shapes. You clench your jaw, feel the hot tide in your belly rise faster. Thrust. “Wake up so f-fucking hard—cum in my pants.” Thrust—thrust—thrust.

Maybe it’s his words, maybe the rough pace, but something holds a flame to the dynamite building inside you and it explodes. Maker, your head’s going to burst. You moan long and deep into the spot Mando’s ear might be. Your legs shake, your arms cramp. Months’ worth of frustration gush hot and wet around him, as he babbles encouragement: There you go, just like that, make it fucking good. Your walls are still fluttering, your ears are still ringing, you haven’t even ridden out the last of your climax when his hips pick up the pace.

“Let me—let me cum inside,” the warrior pants, “let me f-fill this cunt…I—I haven’t since—fuck, I didn’t—”

“Yes,” you gasp, “yes, please, Mando, cum, cum inside—”

There’s no space left between you, but Mando finds a way to squish you tighter against him as he pounds into you for a few last moments, until you hear a strangled grunt, and a half-forgotten warmth pools inside you. The extra lubrication drives his last thrust as deep as your body allows. A few more lazy thrusts inside you, short and stunted as you take his load inside you, before he stops. A warm string trails down your leg, and—stars, he’s leaking out. How much did he cum that it didn’t fit inside you? Fuck.

You take turns panting, whimpering, listening to each other’s heartbeats slow to a semi-normal pace. The Mandalorian moves away from the crook of your neck to meet your glossy eyes. He doesn’t say anything, but you think will. You can almost hear his mouth opening, words boiling and rising in bubbles up his throat—

Zium!

It’s your imagination. It’s your ears ringing from that orgasm, your mind making stuff up. But. You could swear you saw a red flash glade right past your cheek. And from the way Mando’s helmet cocks to the side, you know he saw it too. You turn your heads in unison, to see smoke coming out of a hole a breath away from your ear. It takes both of you too long to put two and two together, and—before he can pull out—more of those red flashes are raining down on you.

…………

Edit: Chapter 2 let’s goooooooo

Taglist: @rosetophighlander @hellomothermoon @newyorksins @leo-moon @benedrylcumbersnatch

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