#also lol good times was this year??? so i had to also include phantom cause it felt weird

[weishenkun]

kuntdown 2024 ♡ music videos

[starfirexuchiha]

The Flower Meanings behind each P5R Flower Keychain Merch

After pre-ordering the P5R flower keychain merch, I decided delve into the flower meanings that each PT character is associated with in the new flower keychain merch.

I’m going to research into the Hanakotoba (花言葉) meaning of these flowers, the English meanings, and the relevant flower essences to hopefully get the right information. Then I’ll try to connect how they relate to the characters. Understand that what I’ll say may not be 100% right, because this is my own interpretation.

The flower meanings I gotten are based on the Japanese websites and English websites that I looked into. THIS IS GOING TO BE A VERY LONG POST so please excuse any potential grammar mistakes I may have made.

If I ever have time, I might make separate posts for each Phantom Thief regarding the history, folklore and meta of their flowers.

Ren Amamiya - Red China Asters & White Daisies

China Asters are called 蝦夷菊 (Ezogiku) or in Katakana, エゾギク in Japanese.

In Hanakotoba (花言葉) China Asters in general mean:

追憶 (Recollection)

私はあなたを想うでしょう (I will think of you)

変化 (Change / Shapeshift)

信じる恋 (Believing in Love)

貞節 (Fidelity)

And Red China Asters in particular mean:

変化を好む (I prefer change)

The English meaning of these Asters are:

Patience

Elegance

Daintiness (Gentle and Kind personality)

Afterthought (Remembering someone who is no longer with you / Thinking if things should have happened differently)

Love of variety

And the Red color in an Aster is the color of passion that expresses strong emotions towards these meanings.

So basically China Asters mean Change and Recollection (Remembering something/someone), and “私はあなたを想うでしょう (I will think of you)”.

Note: There are 2 different classifications of Aster flowers. One is the Shion (シオン) Aster. The other is the China (エゾギク) Aster. There is no such thing as a red Shion Aster. China Asters on the other hand, comes with a variety of colors including red. Therefore, the red asters are China Asters.

Shion Asters tend to have the meaning: “君を忘れない (I won’t forget you)”. China Asters tend to have a similar meaning which is: "私はあなたを想うでしょう (I will think of you)”. This indicates remembering someone who is no longer with you, or when they are far away and separated from you. It seems that Asters in general involve remembering someone and not wanting to forget them.

How this connects to Ren:

Since Red Asters in particular mean “change”, I think this refers to how Ren is a “shapeshifter” (from the Beneath the Mask song), since he is a WildCard user who uses different personas and masks. I think the “変化を好む (I prefer change) ” meaning refers to how Ren wanted to reform society as a Phantom Thief.

China Asters in general also mean “recollection”, I think this refers to what happened between Ren and Akechi. Ren deeply regretted how he wasn’t able to save Akechi in the engine room and wanted things to happen differently between them (Like peacefully playing chess with Akechi in his room in the “Bad Ending”).  For Akechi to be present and by his side...that was his wish in the dream world. This can also refer to how Akechi said “If only we had met a few years earlier...”. Recollection is also connected to the "私はあなたを想うでしょう (I will think of you)” meaning. Ren still remembers his promise with Akechi, even after the dream world ended. Akechi was separated from him twice but Ren still carries Akechi’s glove with him, thinking of him.

The meaning of these flowers are probably connected to the meaning of Akechi’s Forget-Me-Nots that I will mention later in this post.

Daisies are called 雛菊 (Hinagiku) or just デイジー (Daisy) in Japanese.

In Hanakotoba (花言葉) Daisies in general mean:

純潔 (Innocence / Purity)

美人 (Beautiful person)

平和 (Peace / Harmony)

希望 (Hope)

And White Daisies in particular mean:

無邪気 (Innocent)

The English meanings of these Daisies are:

Innocence

New Beginnings

Purity

Harmony

If the Daisy color is White then that specifically means “Innocence” and “Purity”.

How this connects to Ren: 

Ren has his own sense of justice and righteousness, and he believes that what he’s doing is for the greater good. He is the Trickster who brings hope and drives away ruin. Shido falsely accused Ren of assault even though Ren’s innocent. He gotten a criminal record even though he is innocent. Ren started off as a misunderstood hero... and yeah I guess Ren is pretty good-looking too “美人 (Beautiful person)” lol.

Ryuji Sakamoto - Sunflowers & Red Ace Hydrangeas

Sunflowers are called 向日葵 (Himawari) or in katakana ヒマワリ in Japanese.

In Hanakotoba (花言葉) Sunflowers mean:

私はあなただけを見つめる (I only have my eyes on you)

あなたを幸福にする (I will make you happy)

崇拝 (Admiration / Adoration)

光輝 (Brightness)

あなたは素晴らしい (You are amazing)

偽りの富 (False Riches)

The English meanings of these Sunflowers are:

Adoration

Faithfulness

Loyalty

Joy & Happiness

So basically Sunflowers mean admiring someone or adoring someone and it also means happiness.

How this connects to Ryuji:

Ryuji is Ren’s best friend, and he also greatly admires Ren for being the leader of the Phantom Thieves. Ryuji is also the type of guy who is loud, cheerful, and optimistic. This can connect to brightness and happiness.

Hydrangeas are called 紫陽花 (Ajisai) or in katakana アジサイ in Japanese.

In Hanakotoba (花言葉) Hydrangeas mean:

高慢 (Boastfulness / Arrogance)

冷酷 (Ruthlessness / Cold-Hearted)

謝罪 (Apology)

The English meanings of Hydrangeas are:

Gratitude

Honest Emotions

Vanity

Boastfulness

Desire for forgiveness

Regret

In Japan, Hydrangeas are usually used to express apology for bad behavior. That’s why negative words like 冷酷 (Ruthlessness / Cold-Hearted) and  高慢 (Boastfulness / Arrogance) are associated with it. It’s to apologize for behaving like that.

How this connects to Ryuji:

Ryuji is a delinquent and a troublemaker. However, he’s also the type to apologize for the things he messed up on. One example is Ryuji feeling sorry for his mother because attacking Kamoshida ruined his chances of making things easier for her (like getting an athletic scholarship). Another example is the 3rd Semester where he deeply apologizes to Ren for abandoning him to enjoy the dream world. For 高慢 (Boastfulness / Arrogance), Ryuji wanted to have more fame and recognition as the Phantom Thieves were becoming more popular, but that was until the Okumura incident.

Ann Takamaki - Red Roses & Strawberry Blossoms

“A Beautiful Rose has thorns!” - Ann

Roses are called 薔薇 (Bara) or they can be just called ローズ (Rose) in Japanese.

In Hanakotoba (花言葉) Roses in general mean:

愛 (Love)

美 (Beauty)

And Red Roses in particular mean:

あなたを愛してます (I love you)

愛情 (Love / Affection)

美 (Beauty) 

情熱 (Passion)

熱烈な恋 (Passionate Love)

The English meanings of Red Roses are pretty much the same: Passionate Love, Romance, and Beauty. Roses are the most well-known flowers across the world.

How this connects to Ann:

Ann is associated with the Lovers Arcana. Ann’s phantom thief attire is also associated around the themes of beauty, lust, and love. This is because her Persona is Carmen, who is a Femme Fatale (An attractive and seductive woman, especially one who is likely to cause distress or disaster to a man who becomes involved with her). Like what Ann said in battle: “A Beautiful Rose has thorns!“

Strawberries are called 苺 (Ichigo) in Japan.

In Hanakotoba (花言葉) Strawberry Blossoms mean:

尊重と愛情 (Love and Respect)

��福な家庭 (Happy Family)

あなたは私を喜ばせる (You please me)

先見の明 (Foresight)

完全なる善 (Perfect Goodness)

The English meanings of Strawberry Blossoms are: 

Perfection

Righteousness

Spring / Rebirth

So basically Strawberry Blossoms mean perfection, love, and righteousness.

The essence of a Strawberry Blossom can help those who are going through a mental loop of fear and anxiety. For people who are worrying themselves to exhaustion and tears.

How this connects to Ann:

Ann is very kind, compassionate, and also cheerful when she’s with the Phantom Thieves. When it comes to “righteousness“, Ann has moral values and tends to reflect on whether her’s or the PT’s actions are right or wrong. She also has a strong desire to help those in need. I think “perfection” connects to how Ann is confidant about her physical appearance, but she also wants to be mentally strong and confidant like the female villains she watched.

The essence of a Strawberry Blossom (a mental loop of fear and anxiety) could connect to what Ann was going through during the Kamoshida arc. She worries a lot about Shiho, and was unfortunately put into a situation where she had to deal with Kamoshida’s threats and sexual harassment. This is because she feared that Shiho would lose her position in the volleyball team. This situation was so stressful that she suddenly had to talk to Ren about it at the station.

Yusuke Kitagawa - Nemophilas & Lily of the Valleys

Nemophilas (aka Baby Blue Eyes) are called 瑠璃唐草 (Rurikarakusa) or  just ネモフィラ (Nemophila) in Japanese.

In Hanakotoba (花言葉) Nemophilas mean:

どこでも成功 (Success everywhere)

あなたを許す (I forgive you)

可憐 (Sweet)

The English meanings of Nemophilas are pretty much the same: Victory and Success.

However...

Nemophilas have essences for anyone who during their childhood, had lack of support from their father figure or had issues with their father figure.

How this connects to Yusuke:

Sure the “success” meaning could probably connect to Yusuke trying to succeed his art career, but I think the Nemophila essence meaning connects to him more. Yusuke did have a father figure in his childhood who is Madarame. Madarame adopted him shortly after his mother’s death. He became corrupted by his distorted desires and treated Yusuke as a tool to help bolster his fame and riches. Yusuke had issues with Madarame‘s abuse and eventually fought against him in the Metaverse.

However Yusuke still have this conflicting case of Stockholm Syndrome towards Madarame and it shows during the 3rd semester. In the dream world, part of Yusuke’s wish was to have Madarame be a supporting and sincere father figure towards him. This can connect to the Nemophila meaning of “feeling supported and loved, especially by male figures”.

One of the birth flower dates for Nemophilas is January 28th, which is Yusuke’s birthday. So these flowers are REALLY for Yusuke!

Lily of the Valleys are called 鈴蘭 (Suzuran) or in katakana スズラン in Japanese.

In Hanakotoba (花言葉) Lily of the Valleys mean:

再び幸せが訪れる (Return of Happiness)

純粋 (Purity)

謙遜 (Modesty)

優しさ (Kindness)

The English meanings of Lily of the Valleys are:

Motherhood

Womanhood

Purity

Sweetness

Return of Happiness

You made my life complete

So basically the Lily of the Valley flowers mean “Return of Happiness” but it could also mean “Motherhood”, because this flower is considered to be the perfect flower for the month of May, and Mother’s Day takes place in May. On May 1st, it is a custom to give a loved one Lily of the Valleys.

Lily of the Valley also has essences for those who are yearning or desiring relationships that are unattainable.

How this connects to Yusuke:

The “再び幸せが訪れる (Return of Happiness)“ meaning could refer to Yusuke becoming part of the Phantom Thieves and obtaining new friends. The PTs saved him from Madarame. Note that Yusuke first met the Phantom Thieves on the month of May, and Lily of the Valleys are heavily associated with that month.

I think this also relates to the Sayuri painting. The true form of the Sayuri painting expresses motherhood. The woman in the painting is holding a baby. Yusuke’s mother created this painting of herself happily holding her newborn son in her arms. “Yearning for relationships that are unattainable” could probably refer to how Yusuke deep down yearn for parental love. His biological parents aren’t present in his life and Madarame is a corrupted father figure. I mentioned before that part of Yusuke’s wish in the dream world was to have Madarame be a supporting and sincere father figure towards him.

Makoto Niijima - Canterbury Bells & Pink Tree Peonies

Canterbury Bells (aka Bellflowers), are called カンパニュラ (Campanula) in Japanese.

In Hanakotoba (花言葉) Canterbury Bells mean:

感謝 (Gratitude)

誠実 (Sincerity)

節操 (Loyalty)

思いを告げる (Telling your Thoughts)

共感 (Sympathy)

The English meanings of Canterbury Bells are:

Gratitude

Humility

Everlasting Love

So basically Canterbury bells mean “Gratitude” and “Telling your Thoughts”.

The essence of Canterbury Bells are for those who are stressed and cannot think for themselves. Canterbury Bells can help clear their minds so that they can stand up for themselves and make their own decisions.

How this connects to Makoto:

Before she joined the Phantom Thieves, Makoto was considered to be an obedient “good girl type of pushover” who followed the rules and couldn’t make her own decisions. During the Kaneshiro arc, so many things were happening to her at once such as the Principal giving her a difficult task, Sae getting angry at her during dinner, and Goro calling her a pushover. All of this really stressed her because her obedience is suffocating her. This connects to the “思いを告げる (Telling your Thoughts)“ meaning because it wasn’t until she entered Kaneshiro’s palace that she was finally able to speak her mind and stand up for herself. 

One of the birth flower dates for Canterbury Bells is April 23rd, which is Makoto’s birthday. So these flowers are REALLY for Makoto!

Tree Peonies are called 牡丹 (Botan) or in katakana ボタン in Japanese.

In Hanakotoba (花言葉) Tree Peonies mean:

王者の風格 (Personality of a King)

富貴 (Wealth and Honor)

はにかみ (Bashfulness)

恥じらい (Shyness)

思いやり (Compassion)

The English meanings of Tree Peonies are:

Good Fortune

Bravery

Honor

Nobility

In Japan, Tree Peonies are well-respected and known to be called the “King of Flowers” (花の王様) or the “King of a Hundred Flowers” (百花の王). The reason why they’re called that is because back in history, Tree Peonies were used to decorate throne rooms and royal palaces. That’s why Tree Peonies tend to have meanings relating to royalty and honor.

The essence of Peonies are for those who are overworking themselves and trying to work hard for everything.

How this connects to Makoto:

Makoto’s code name is “Queen”, because of her bossy and strict personality. This also connects to the “王者の風格 (Personality of a King)“ meaning. Makoto’s bossy personality can be a King-like trait. Also a Queen is just a royal female version of a King. Makoto also worked hard to keep her grades in check and studied a lot in order to go to a good college. This could connect to the Peony essence for trying to work hard for everything. Makoto also drove a lot in P5 Strikers and exhausted herself from it. This could mean that Makoto is also the type to overwork herself.

The “はにかみ (Bashfulness)” meaning could probably connect to how Makoto has vulnerable or cute sides to her. She is scared of paranormal activity and have cute buchimaru merch in her room.

Futaba Sakura - Dandelions & Red Carnations

Dandelions are called 蒲公英 (Tanpopo) or in katakana タンポポ in Japanese.

In Hanakotoba (花言葉) Dandelions mean:

愛の神託 (Oracle of Love)

神託 (Oracle)

真心の愛 (Sincere Love)

幸福 (Happiness)

別離 (Separation)

The English meanings of Dandelions are:

Happiness

Joy

Youthful Thoughts

Dandelions are known to be a fortune-telling flower which is why words like “神託 (Oracle)” are associated with it. It seems like Dandelions also mean “Happiness” but also “Separation”.

How this connects to Futaba:

Obviously Futaba’s code name is “Oracle”, so all of the “神託 (Oracle)” and  “愛の神託 (Oracle of Love)“ meanings of this flower connects to her. The “別離 (Separation)“ meaning could refer to how Futaba is separated from her mother because her mother died. The “幸福 (Happiness)“ meaning probably refers to how Futaba became happy again and gained new friends after the Phantom Thieves saved her.

One of the birth flower dates for Dandelions is February 19th, which is Futaba’s birthday. So these flowers are REALLY for Futaba!

Carnations are called カーネーション (Carnation) in Japanese.

In Hanakotoba (花言葉) Carnations in general mean:

無垢で深い愛 (Innocent and Deep Love)

魅惑 (Fascination)

愛情 (Affection)

And Red Carnations in particular mean:

母への愛 (A Mother’s Love)

The English meanings of Carnations are:

Admiration

Love and Affection

Fascination

Distinction

Carnations are known to symbolize Mother’s Day which is why “母への愛 (A Mother’s Love)“ is associated with it. The Red color of that flower in particular are used the most for Mother’s Day.

How this connects to Futaba:

Futaba loves her mother (Wakaba) a lot and she also misses her mother a lot. The whole Futaba Palace arc was about Futaba struggling to overcome her mother’s death. She later realized in her Palace that her mother doesn’t hate her and still loves her. This connects to the “母への愛 (A Mother’s Love)“ meaning. Futaba deep down still hasn’t overcome her mother’s death and it shows in the 3rd semester. Futaba’s wish in the dream world was to have Wakaba still alive. Futaba knew it wasn’t real early on, but she still rolled with it anyway because “If I got to see my mom again, then it was okay...”. She eventually apologized to Ren for this though.

Haru Okumura - Pink Roses & Hypericum Berries

As you already know, in Hanakotoba (花言葉) Roses in general mean:

愛 (Love)

美 (Beauty)

But Pink Roses in particular mean:

しとやか (Graceful / Ladylike)

上品 (Elegant)

可愛い人 (Cute person)

美しい少女 (Beautiful Girl)

誓い (Oath of Love)

感銘 (Deep Impression)

The English meanings of Pink Roses are:

Gratitude

Grace

Joy

Gentleness

Ann’s Red Roses represent passionate love and romance. Haru’s Pink Roses on the other hand, have a different meaning. Pink Roses are more associated with beauty and grace.

How this connects to Haru:

Haru is the “Beauty Thief”, and is associated with the themes of classy elegance, beauty and grace. This is because her Persona is Milady, who is a sophisticated and elegant woman. It’s also because Haru is rich. Haru is familiar with what it’s like to live in a high-class lifestyle.

Hypericum are called ヒペリカム (Hypericum) in Japanese

In Hanakotoba (花言葉) Hypericums mean:

きらめき (Sparkle)

悲しみは続かない (Sadness that doesn’t last)

The English meanings of Hypericums are:

Cheerfulness

Inspiration

Antidepressant

Hypericums are usually given to those who are grieving or lost a loved one. They are also known to relieve depression, because the medicine that uses this plant are antidepressants. Hypericums are also used to drive away devils, witches, sorcery, and misfortune. This is the reason why Hypericums have “悲しみは続かない (Sadness that doesn’t last)" as its meaning.

How this connects to Haru:

I think this is connected to how Haru lost her father and she was really sad about it. Hypericums are for those “who are grieving or lost a loved one“. The meaning of “driving away devils, witches, sorcery, and misfortune“ could refer to how Haru had to fight against her father in the Metaverse in order to stop his corruption and save anyone (and herself) who were affected by his distorted desires. Even after the Okumura arc, she still grieved about her father to the point that her wish in the dream world was to have her father alive again.

The “悲しみは続かない (Sadness that doesn’t last)" meaning could refer to Haru joining the Phantom Thieves and not being sad anymore. Her new friends relieved her depression.

Sumire Yoshizawa - Baby’s Breaths & Blue Star Milkweeds

Baby’s Breaths (aka Gypsophilas) are called かすみ草 (Kasumisou) in Japanese.

In Hanakotoba (花言葉) Baby’s Breaths mean:

清らかな心 (Pure Heart)

無邪気 (Innocence)

親切 (Kindness)

幸福 (Happiness)

永遠の愛 (Everlasting Love)

The English meanings of Baby’s Breaths are:

Everlasting Love

Newborn babies

Innocence

Holy Spirit

Unity

So basically Baby’s Breath mean “Innocence”, “Purity”, and “Everlasting Love”.

How this connects to Sumire:

The name of the flower. In Japanese, Baby’s Breaths are called “Kasumi” (かすみ) in hiragana. The name of Sumire’s twin sister is also in hiragana: かすみ  芳澤 (Kasumi Yoshizawa). It appears that Kasumi is named after the Baby’s Breath flower. Sumire on the other hand, is named after Violets, and Violets are called  すみれ草 (Sumiresou). What is the Hanakotoba meaning of Violets? “白昼夢 (Daydreaming)” and “あなたのことで頭がいっぱい (You Occupy my Thoughts)”.

Kasumi = Baby’s Breaths (Innocence, Pure Heart)

Sumire = Violets (Daydreaming, You Occupy my Thoughts)

Sumire was the first to be affected by Maruki’s power. Her cognition was changed, causing her to believe that she’s Kasumi. This is connected to the “白昼夢 (Daydreaming)” meaning. During her time being Kasumi, she was completely oblivious that she’s not Kasumi. This could connect to the “Innocence” meaning.

It’s also the reason why the Sumire keychain have Baby’s Breaths flowers instead of Violets. This is the Sumire that thinks she’s Kasumi.  

The “永遠の愛 (Everlasting Love)“ meaning could probably refer to the bond between the two sisters.

The Blue Star Milkweeds (aka Tweedias) are called ブルースター (BlueStars) in Japanese. 

In Hanakotoba (花言葉) BlueStars mean:

幸福な愛 (Happy Love)

虹あう心 (Rainbow Hearts)

信じあう心 (Hearts that believe in each other)

The English meaning of BlueStars are:

Faithful Affection

BlueStars are one of the common flowers that are used in weddings in a bride’s bouquet. I guess that’s why meanings like “幸福な愛 (Happy Love)“ and “信じあう心 (Hearts that believe in each other)��� are associated with it.

The essence of BlueStars are associated with dream and reality. It helps balance the ability to daydream with the need to keep one foot fully grounded in reality.

How this connects to Sumire:

Sumire’s 3rd tier Persona Ella, represents Cinderella during her wedding day. The blue color of the BlueStars could also refer to the color of Sumire’s 1st Persona, Cendrillon.

But the essence of BlueStars seem to connect to her more. Regarding the Inharmonious Expression, Sumire wasn’t able to accept reality at first, and wanted to stay being Kasumi in the dream world. This could connect to her lack of ability to move forward and her inability to travel to another dimension (Reality). Then during her time in the 3rd semester with the Phantom Thieves and Akechi, Sumire eventually gained the courage to accept herself. She was finally able to keep one foot fully grounded in reality.

Goro Akechi - Lobelias & Pink Forget-Me-Nots

Lobelias are called ロベリア (Lobelia) in Japanese.

In Hanakotoba (花言葉) Lobelias mean:

悪意 (Malevolence / Evil Intentions)

謙遜 (Modesty)

いつも愛らしい (Always Charming)

嫌い (Hate)

The English meanings of Lobelias are: 

Distinction

Malevolence

Arrogance

So basically Lobelias symbolizes “Malevolence”. The reason why Lobelias have these negative meanings is because even though these flowers look pretty, they are really toxic flowers that can kill you.

How this connects to Goro:

Goro’s true nature is full of malevolence and hate. He had caused psychotic breakdowns, had killed some people, and had attempted to betray the Phantom Thieves and kill Ren. His hatred comes from his desire for revenge against Shido, because Shido is the one who ruined his life as well as his mother’s. The 3rd semester showed this side of him even more. He is more ruthless, vulgar, aggressive, and wildly feral especially towards shadows. He takes great pleasure in killing them. Goro can also make himself go berserk by using “Call of Chaos” on himself. 

Goro being a murderer and taking pleasure in killing things can connect to how the Lobelia flowers are really toxic and can kill you. 

The “いつも愛らしい (Always Charming)” meaning could refer to how Goro is still pretty and charming despite showing is feral side. Like come on, look at this baby face:

Forget-Me-Nots are called 忘れな草 (Wasurenakusa) in Japanese. 

In Hanakotoba (花言葉) Forget-Me-Nots in general mean:

真実の愛 (True Love)

私を忘れないで (Don’t forget me)

思い出 (Memories)

And Pink Forget-Me-Nots in particular mean: 

真実の友情 (True Friendship)

The English meanings of Forget-Me-Nots are: 

Don’t forget me

Remembrance

True Love

Eternal Love

Desperate Love

Memory of a dead person

The meanings of “True Love” and “Don’t Forget Me” came from legends of tragic romances in medieval times.

The essence of Forget-Me-Nots are for those who never fully resolved their isolation and abandonment issues after experiencing the death of an important family member or friend during childhood.

How this connects to Goro:

The “私を忘れないで (Don’t forget me)” and “Remembrance” meanings refers to what happened between Goro and Ren. Goro made a promise with Ren and gave Ren one of his gloves. But then Goro “died” in the Engine Room and Ren was devastated about it. Ren still kept the glove that Goro gave him and remembers him from it. This can also relate to the meaning of the China Asters that Ren is associated with: "私はあなたを想うでしょう (I will think of you)”, and also relates to “Memory of a dead person”.

The “真実の友情 (True Friendship)” meaning from the Pink Forget-Me-Nots in particular could refer to how in P5R, Goro now has a manual confidant. Ren is able to have an “open and honest relationship” with Goro because of this.

The essence of Forget-Me-Nots also relates to Goro. Goro does indeed have isolation and abandonment issues. He mentioned how he’s an unwanted bastard child, and in the engine room he mentioned how he wanted to be loved. He also deep down wanted to be acknowledged by Shido since Shido is his only biological link. Shido of course took advantage of that. All of this is because during Goro’s childhood, his mother committed suicide, leaving him feeling alone and unwanted. The death of an important family member.

For the ShuAke fans:

Since Forget-Me-Nots gotten their name from tragic romances, this can connect to how ShuAke is a tragic and angsty romance as well. Since they have an “open and honest relationship”, their “真実の友情 (True Friendship)” can turn into “真実の愛 (True Love)” as the story progresses. Also… their flowers communicated to each other like:

Goro: 私を忘れないで (Don’t forget me)

Ren: 私はあなたを想うでしょう。 君を忘れない (I will think of you. I won’t forget you)

---------------------------------------------

Whew.... I gotta say, making this post has made me learn a lot about flowers and the flower language. Thanks to this new knowledge, I will consider using the meaning of flowers in my future video projects from now on. Making this post also made me delve into the meta of the other Phantom Thieves and I began to like them more because of it. 

Like I said, my interpretations aren’t 100% correct, so make what you will with this knowledge. 

You’re welcome 👋

[kidflashimpulse]

Since we're talking about West-Allen-Garrick Family Headcanons, I think right after Wally's death there was so much tension within the whole family. Bart said in season three (I think it was episode sixteen) that the public never realized it was a different guy in the suit. I feel like when Bart first became KF, the public never noticed and the League never said the original Kid Flash died, so he just kept being Wally if you get what I mean. Like another anon said, the Wests definitely felt uncomfortable around Bart and just avoided him in their grief. Barry and I can even see Jay accidentally calling Bart "Wally" and then regretting it immediately. I just think the few months from Wally's death created such an uncomfortable atmosphere in all three households, so instead Bart just threw himself into hero work and just avoided everyone most of the time. Adding onto the fact, that the Reach is gone, Bart's mission is fully complete, now he has to face all his trauma and start truly living without surviving. He probably doesn't know what he wants to do when he's older or even thought about his dating life. So with all of the trauma and the fact that the flashfam is a mess, I feel like slowly Jay, Joan, Barry, and Iris started finding out about his life before coming back to the past. Then they kinda just realize they have a really traumatized fourteen-year-old. I like to think that after everything comes to light, the whole family including Rudy and Mary starts to heal together. Anyway sorry for rambling lmao, I really like your fics, especially AAIT :)

Also, love the idea of the League, especially Bruce (he's a good dad in YJA and knows exactly how Barry is feeling cause of Jason) helps Barry through his grief cause I'm a sucker for the League becoming found family.

no worries I LOVE reading other ppls thoughts, thank u sm for sharing it with us <33

100% agree on the tension and how Bart pretty much throws himself into hero work, tbh I HC that even till this point in Phantoms he throws himself into it, because if anyone can its him, his speed definitely helps with him juggling everything. Though of course as he starts to have a more normal life, dating Ed and being comfortable with his family he has reasons to take it easier, though I do think he's used to just always taking things on without second guessing whether he has the time. 

Also agree on the League not publicising Wallys death because as Jaime mentioned when they were in the grotto, the League doesn't want to publicise that they're not immortal, and that ppl thought he was just the same BB as Ted Kord in another costume. Its pretty much suggested that the same happened to Bart as KF, especially since he started out wearing Wallys exact same costume. Most probably over the years with more coverage and musings ppl realise he's a different guy, especially with his new suit, but like he mentioned its doesn't really click for everyone that he's not Wally. 

About what u said on the League, particularly Bruce and Barry, it kinda reminds me of how dead-set I am on how incredibly weighted/awkward (thats not the right word but its not coming to me rn lol) Clarks role as a Leaguer (and long time friend of Barrys) is and at the same time knowing that something is going on with Barts disappearance. All this time Barry, someone with a very much known history (among the League, like Bruce) of having lost a family member and legacy act, going through two weeks of having zero idea where Bart is, someone, who has filled in the very role of the person who was famously lost. Like just the weight of this situation itself is actually wild? And the nobility in Clarks actions of keeping his word when it matters aside, its actually lowkey such a dick move LMAO Barry was out there probably not having a great time (understatement of the century); Jay ended up needing therapy and Clark is just there like 

If I had the money I would PAY to see all these type of scenes lol 

[sanchoyo]

danny phantom season 2, eps 1-5 thoughts! opening the new season with episodes like these kinda blew me away. we had multiple serious episodes INCLUDING a two parter!! also, valerie :)

see prev episode thoughts in this tag <3

-I don't know what I expected s2 to open with. but danny portal incident in more detail was not it. (also, I hate to break it to you, sam, but danny's parent's bigass ghost hunting rv def chugs more gas than those vehicles, lmao. unless it runs on ectoplasm or something...)

-WHY WAS DESIREE IN THE SEWER? HAVING TEA WITH IT DOWN THERE?? Her making the giant cow come alive is a boss move, we've almost had all of my fav animals as ghosts now <3 I also don't like how sam was expecting danny to just, haunt the place so the cars wouldn't get sold? I KNOWWW I know she's 14 (and I had a very annoying phase like this, I think I mentioned in a previous post, I GET IT) but they're HIS powers, and messing with (1) dealership will not really put a dent in sales overall because they can just move the cars to another sales lot, and it certainly wont change the industry anyway, it's more of a minor annoyance for (1) location. Also, usually people who work at car sales places work on commission, so if they dont make a sale, they don't have money to pay bills, or eat. sam baby if u wanna be an activist you need to like, actually look into these things. with as much money as her parents have, she could be doing a lot..more useful things for causes she cares about? it's frustrating to see someone with resources who doesn't know how to use them. but shes 14 so again. cannot be really upset :/

-IS THIS A PREDATOR VS TERMINATOR VS FREDDY KRUEGER MOVIE BUT THEYRE ALL WOMEN?? you know, sam is so right to be excited about this. /I/ want to see this movie. that rules

-paulina inviting danny and friends to her quinceañera, aw! even if it is just to get phantom to show up :') and there'll be a meteor shower, and we KNOW danny wants to be an astronaut!! there's not a meteor shower every night!! the tickets are non-refundable, but..she's rich? like. gotta agree with danny, they never get invited!! I KNOW it's the principle of keeping promises, but if she was that upset, she should've said something. directly. I hated how she was like, passive aggressive about it through the episode, like you SAID IT WAS FINE, THAT YOU'D GO TO THE PARTY TOO. MOVIES SHOW FOR A FEW WEEKS IN THEATERS. IF YOU HAD A REAL PROBLEM YOU NEED TO TALK ABOUT IT. WE'VE HAD THIS PROBLEM BEFORE, SAM. YOUR FRIENDS. ARE NOT. MIND READERS.

-MR. LANCER GOING AFTER THE GHOST WITH THE FIRE EXTINGISHER LMAO

-this outfit is everything . anytime the show does an over the top cutesty pink outfit i WANT IT. it looks like shit I wear JKASDHF I HAVE a bow like that and a pink sweater. I need leg warmers </3

-SAMS GOTTA RE-HALF-KILL HIM??? thats fucked up. but also, he finally got his logo!! it took until s2!!! this episode was lowkey very fucked and I felt like it glossed over a lot. does sam have guilt about like. kinda KILLING HIM?? I know, he also agreed and walked into the portal. but. she made the choice to redo it SO quickly (even if it was because someone had to beat desiree) and danny, during their fight, brought up a lot of stuff sam's done in the past, meaning he was holding onto those memories and resentment was building. (I KEEP SAYING HE LOWKEY NEEDS THERAPY, BUT I THINK MOST EVERYONE IN THIS SHOW KINDA DOES) which...is a red flag? and then they didnt even GO to the party URGH I know she tried to make up for it, but it really felt like Sam fucked up and barely faced any consequences and got everything she wanted in the end. I KNOW it's a kids show obv they aren't going to go too in depth, and she undid the damage, kinda, but...I DUNNO how to articulate it but it rubbed me the wrong way.

-but on a note about desiree, her powers of wishes were STRONG ENOUGH TO ERASE NOT JUST THEIR MEMORIES, BUT DANNY'S POWERS?! fuck, if I was danny I'd be like, trying to make friends with her. I know they always have horrible side effects as most genie-granted wishes do, but...c'mon, I'd at least TRY to be like 'I wish no ghosts would hurt anyone in my town' or 'I wish vlad would lose his ghost powers forever no matter What and also forget about my mom' LIKE. SHIT DESIREE IS SO POWERFUL. rewriting reality powerful, basically!! appreciate her. respect her.

-aww, sam helping tucker pass the nurse's office so he wouldn't see because he's afraid of medical stuff? very sweet. I also don't like medical stuff, I've gotten a lot better at handling it tho. but seeing blood and needles still makes me feel lightheaded x_x

-FOLEY, BY TUCKER FOLEY. I want to make my own perfume, that's so cool. even if his first attempt isn't good, he's pretty consistently shown to have an inventor/entrepreneur streak in the show, so like. I can see him inventing or making something (or several somethings) that make him $$$ when he grows up :) proud of my creative son

-I know the 'creepy abandoned hospital on the edge of town' is a joke and the creepy hospital trope is so Worn Out, but in my town we actually DO have a hospital like that! my dad was born in it, but its not in use and hasn't been for, like, 20 years! it needs to be torn down but I think the city doesn't wanna pay the money. the inside is horrible, spray painted and broken glass and shit everywhere. but there's still like, rusty equipment and fucking DOLLS all over the place. the cops drive by it pretty frequently to make sure no one is like, breaking in. (because of water damage, some of the areas really aren't safe. also, asbestos, but people still go in anyway) but also, some of my town was used in a filming for a stephen king show. So it's lowkey spooky all over. just a fun personal tidbit :) to lead into saying, any hospital abandoned for any period of time is NOT safe to quarantine these kids in JKSAHDKF like I KNOW it's a ghost trying to do this, but NONE of these parents are even like, 'well, why dont we keep them in the regular, working hospital'....YIKES. this hospital looks pretty accurate to the one in town. grungy and spooky.

-fentons are tax evaders confirmed by jack's fear of being audited, lol no one is surprised

-ghost sickness via ghost bugs. horrifying concept. I actually expected it to be a new villain, not dr. spectra again! this is a very elaborate scheme. her new form rules, love the new costume. the way none of the bg kids seem to recognize her as their old school councilor. did we just forget about that completely?

-dash watching romance movies in the fucked up ghost hospital. same.

-'oh please, you're ghosts, do you have any idea what YOU smell like?' no, tucker, what DO ghosts smell like? I genuinely didn't know they would even have a smell, I actually want to know now.

-it feels like a while since we've seen jazz!! i was happy to see her again, even if she was a head in a jar for most the episode. I want another jazz-focused ep!!

-we finally see danny doing space-related stuff!! him and his friends stargazing to open ep 3 of s2. cute :) until, GHOST PIRATES!!!!! ...ghost pirate captain is a small child?? VOICED BY TAYLOR LAUTNER???

-oh, the easy listening is ember's song instrumental slowed. 'vapor drone' THEY VAPORWAVED HER!!! ember in a pirate outfit tho >>>>. and the cruise being called m.bersback JKASDHJK. ember adopting a little pirate brother is also pretty cute. concerning this teen and little kid have such bad opinions of adults, like, who hurt you?? (how did you DIE ALSO?? im always lowkey curious about that. we know desiree died at an old age, but her ghost form is young, probably mid-20s, so I wonder how that sort of thing works...its a more mental thing, isn't it?) but ghost team-ups are always cool to see, even if ember bailed after danny took her guitar. I guess she probably thinks youngblood can handle it (which, he's been owning danny this far in the ep, so...fair)

-tucker got that sponsorship from nasty burger for their radio!!! again, opportunistic money maker king, love to see it!!!

-danny taking control of the kids SO FAST. he makes a pretty great leader. no one is surprised, im pretty sure I said I think he's the most mature of the trio, once again, correct, because he's taken on so much responsibility already. all the teens suiting up in the jumpsuits to go save the adults and taking the ship over with a BLIMP. OKAY LETS GO. this feels like it should be a mid finale or straight up finale.

-...speaking of finales. why is ep 4-5 of s2 combined into a 50 minute episode? I havent even clicked play and im concerned. weird placement, like, this season JUST started and we're getting a two parter? okay...why are the episodes placed like this? why not put this at episode 10 or something, for a mid-season thing?

-this is also a cute dress. possibly my fav dress so far. can her parents give ME cute dresses, I'LL wear them.

-it turns out the castle fright knight was in is called pariah's keep and there's something worse than fright knight in there! lovely! fuck off vlad wtf are you doing <3 your hubris <3 is going to literally get you killed <3 'ring of rage' and 'crown of fire' are great names tho. ...vlad turning into a super polite guy when he was scared of mr. pariah was hilarious. and fright knight doing the same...I mean, it makes sense, he's a knight, he serves a king? happy to see fright knight again either way :) vlad telling him to call him tho, lmfao. you WISH HE WOULD. (I wish hed call me, too. 😔)

-so...jack being genuinely concerned about vlad...maddie really didn't tell him what happened at the cabin, did she. damn. if I was her id immediately come home and be like 'YOU WONT BELIEVE THIS SHITTTT THIS CREEPY GUY--' like, I feel like that stuff you need to tell your partner!!! I know she didnt want Jack to think she was an irresponsible parent putting danny in danger at that time, but STILLLL. maddie spilling boiling tea on him. get his ass. how is jack this oblivious to his wife's discomfort with vlad!! ughhh

-fenton wipe (tm). trademarked toilet paper.

-DANNY AND VALERIE BEING FRIENDS??? :D that was a cute moment. 'hey val <3' and 'if you like him like him, make a move, or someone else will ;)' at sam...damn!! I love her. valerie go for it girl!!! I hate how sam and tucker treat val also, like I GET IT YOURE PROTECTIVE AND DONT TRUST but if anything him befriending valerie will help when she finds out or he tells her like I feel like she'll be more understanding that they think! ALSO I feel like her reason for not liking ghosts is valid, like you haven't really explained the full story to her anyway! she doesn't seem to have any other friends after being booted from the a-listers so im like :( but seeing them kick butt together again was nice <3

-the ghosts all RUNNING FROM PARIAH DARK IS NOT GOOD, I thought he sent them to attack or something, but no. why doesn't someone just tell desiree 'hey i wish pariah dark would die' lol. once again I think she can solve every problem <3 but seeing all the enemies in one place, being civil and hiding together? love it.

-you just know danny's gonna have to clean up vlad's stupid mess. also, jack being willing to put on the ectoskeleton pants to help maddie, as soon as vlad heard it could kill him, he suggested jack do it instead of helping maddie himself? this is why jack got the girl, my man.

-ghost skeletons. how do you end up as a skeleton ghost in your afterlife instead of a humanoid like most the ones we've seen? lmao

-the ghosts just making new homes in various stores. I'd totally be setting up in an expensive clothing store if I was a ghost.

-valerie's dad is possibly the most useful adult so far, with that ghost shield expansion!!! and valerie saving vlad and danny, even tho shes been thru it already, shes still so good!!! this family rules.

-danny: *gently caresses valerie* :)

-*then he immediately TELLS HER DAD ON HER. and his first response is 'are you okay?' :'( such a good dad...

-*me every time fright knight breathes* youre doing SO great sweetie :)

-the fenton suit thing is so silly looking. does anyone take this thing seriously

-ALL THE GHOSTS FIGHTING WITH DANNY <3 AAAAA. and the fact that pariah isn't perma-defeated, but just locked away again. yikes. he'll probably get out again, won't he? it wasn't too clear, but if vlad DID make a pact with fright knight, I am rabid. I will beat vlad to death with the fenton bat (tm). YOU DONT DESERVE A COOL KNIGHT.

-valerie being direct with sam and challenging her? kinda love that, even tho I normally don't like 'catfight' type situations. because sam has been very passive aggressive about it which is annoying. valerie knows wtf she wants and wasn't even embarrassed to tell sam, but she did tell her, giving sam time to make her own move! and sam denied it and got embarrassed/mad! and sam did have a chance when danny was about to go off and fight, and she hesitated and didn't tell him. I feel like she's hesitating because they're friends and it might make it weird between the trio (poor tucker would be third-wheeling) but if u snooze u lose, u gotta GO after what u WANT girl. smh this is a No Tsundere Zone. 😤

[the-wild-wolves-around-you]

Carry Me Home (A Din Djarin/Reader Fic)

Summary: Din and Reader find themselves on a jungle planet hunting a bounty, but nothing goes as planned, and secrets are shared.

***Based off this line from a previous fic in this series: "Then the mysterious bounty hunter told you his name one day when you were trying to hold his femoral artery together with nothing but bacta gel and hope."

No spoilers. Set in Season 1 between Episode 6 (The Prisoner) & Episode 7 (The Reckoning)

Pairings: Din Djarin/Reader; Din Djarin/You

Rating: M(ature)

Warnings: Blood, gore, & violence. Brief mentions of past slavery. 

A/N: In true Star Wars fashion, I'm just writing shit out of order lol. But the idea for this fic kept bugging me, so i just had to get it out on the page. 

You don't need to read the previous fics to understand this one, though (since the others are set in s2.) I have some more ideas for out of order stories, too, so I'll most likely be continuing this series.But let me know if you'd be interested in a fic from Din's POV! I think that could be fun, but if y'all are digging Reader POV, I'll stick to that.

And in case anyone cares, the title is taken from the lyrics of Arcade by Duncan Lawrence, which I was listening to on repeat as I wrote this. 

As always, I’ve posted this piece on Ao3, but I’ll paste the text below. 

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28763814

I’ll also include the links to the other two fics here: 

The Sea Like Glass Ch 1: Here

The Sea Like Glass Ch 2 (includes smut): Here

“Dank farrik!” you hissed as the wire in front of you sparked and sent a jolt of electricity through your already singed fingers. Not for the first time, you wished you could wear your gloves, but some of the pieces that needed repairing were too small to feel through the bulky material, so you could do nothing more than sacrifice your flesh for the cause.

Didn’t make it hurt less, though. You sucked the smarting tips into your mouth, glaring at the trashed circuit board in front of you, but the ruined hardware only crackled in response.

If you were back in Hanger 3-5 in Mos Eisley, you would have probably trashed the whole part and dug through Peli’s stock for a replacement, or gone down to the market and haggled for something newer, but you weren’t on Tatooine. You were smack dab in the middle of a jungle planetoid you couldn’t remember the name of, and it was up to you to get the Razor Crest running again on what you had available.

Which, admittedly, wasn’t a lot.

You sighed as you sat back on your haunches, using the back of your wrist to swipe at the sweat trailing down your temple. The pre-Empire ship towered over you as you dug into her innards, having pried off one of the semi-melted lower side panels to access the appropriate circuits. Your thin tank top was already drenched, and the hair sticking to the back of your neck kept giving you phantom itches. You wanted nothing more than to tie it up completely, but you always felt naked when your nape was exposed. You weren’t necessarily ashamed of the scar there, or the past connected to it, since it wasn’t your fault you were born into shackles, but… still. It was a… personal story to tell, and you weren’t sure you were ready to share it with your new boss.

Well, “new” was relative. You’d been employed on the Razor Crest for several months now, but you didn’t know much more about the Mandalorian than you did when you’d first set foot onto his ship. You knew he was a bounty hunter, from a race of legendary warriors. You knew he had a partially sordid, and dangerous, past if your encounter with Ran and his crew of mercenaries was any indication. You knew the green baby was his ward, or foundling as he called it, and Mando was tasked with returning the little guy to his people. And you knew his Creed forbid him from removing his helmet.

That was about it. The Mandalorian didn’t talk much, but it didn’t particularly bother you. You’d always been a quieter person, and after years of Peli’s constant chattering, you were kind of relieved for the silence.

Most of the time, anyway.

“How’s it looking?”

You gasped in alarm, jolting yourself off balance and falling back onto your ass in the dirt.

“Maker, Mando,” you panted as you craned your neck back to stare up at the bounty hunter. “What have I told you about sneaking up on me when I’m working on electrics?”

The impervious mask of the Mandalorian stared down at you silently, blotting out the sweltering sun and providing you a modicum of relief. A moment passed, then two, and you shifted uneasily under his unblinking gaze.

“I thought you heard me approach,” he said finally, his modulated voice flat and unaffected, but he didn’t move from where he was looming over you.

“Well, I didn’t,” you grumbled as you flopped your head forward and popped your neck, stretching your legs out in the dirt.

The tight leggings you wore ended not too far past your knees, so your shins were streaked with the red soil of this planetoid. The dirt didn’t bother you, but the heat sure did. It was different than Tatooine’s dry desert. This heat was oppressive, stifling, almost cloying, and every time you took a deep breath, a small part of your brain panicked, images of drowning flashing through your mind even though you knew it was irrational. You were just grateful your clothes didn’t look a fraction as hot as the Mandalorian’s all black get-up and what had to be twenty-five kilos of armor.

“So,” the bounty hunter said after a few more moments of silence, interrupted only by the call of exotic birds in the canopy, “how are things looking?”

“Honestly?” you sighed as you pushed yourself off the ground, dusting the red dirt off your hands but not even bothering with your pants. “Not good. The bounty’s guns must have grazed us when we were still outside orbit, and entering the atmosphere certainly didn’t help matters. Some of the side paneling has been melted beyond repair, and a lot of the wiring is fried, too.”

“Can you get it flying?” Mando asked, crossing his arms over his chest and making his silhouette all the more imposing. The sun glinted off his silver beskar, and you squinted in the glare.

“Maybe.” You pursed your lips and averted your gaze, turning back to stare at the charred panels and sparking wires. Sweat trickled down your neck, and you reached back to cup your nape, feeling the bounty hunter’s eyes on you.

“Didn’t know I was paying you for maybes.”

“You’re not paying me at all if you can’t even catch that quarry,” you snorted before your brain could catch up to your mouth.

You froze when the words finally registered, nails digging into the back of your neck. Stupid. Your mouth always did get the better of you. You used to mouth-off to your former owner until he backhanded you into silence, and now you’re starting shit with a bounty hunter you’d seen kill half a dozen men in just as many seconds.

Stupid.

You waited for Mando to say something, staring at the Razor Crest without even seeing it, and even if you didn’t really believe he’d hurt you for a simple off-handed comment, your body didn’t get the message. Muscle memory was a hard thing to forget, and every fiber in you braced for the blow.

The birds chittered in the towering blue-green canopy above your head as sweat poured from every single one of your pores, and you were just about to come out of your skin when the Mandalorian finally spoke.

“Well, to catch the quarry, I need my ship to fly,” he said, and when you chanced a glance over your shoulder, you discovered he’d somehow moved further away from you, like he took several steps back.

Was he… giving you space?

His tone was still flat, but after several months spent in close proximity with the bounty hunter, you were now able to parse out several different minor inflections in his modulated voice. You were by no means an expert, but you knew for a fact he didn’t sound angry in this moment. When he was angry, his voice took on a softer, menacing quality. The few times you’d heard it—thankfully never directed at you—every hair on your body stood on end, and the lizard part of your brain had screamed to run and not stop running until you were in a completely different star system.

This wasn’t anger. This was… something else. You almost wanted to say… amusement, but that would have been crazy.

Still, the tension bled out of your shoulders like sand through a sieve, and you dropped your arms as you turned to face the Mandalorian fully again.

“Alright, this is the best I can do,” you said. “I can get her flying again, I think I can even get her shielded enough to withstand leaving the atmosphere when we’re done here, but it’s gonna take some time.”

“How much time?” he asked.

You glanced over your shoulder again at the damage, did some calculations in your head, and added some padding to give yourself a margin for error. Then you turned back to the bounty hunter.

“At least two days,” you replied, confident in your abilities. “Anything less, and we risk blowing ourselves to the Inner Core and back when I go to start her up.”

“Hmm.” Mando stared at you for a moment and then shifted to gaze into the jungle. “The bounty will most likely be off planet by then.”

“I don’t think so,” you contradicted him, and your heart actually skipped a beat when the T of his visor turned to look at you. There was something nerve-wracking about staring into the dark, reflective glass, but then you noticed your red-streaked appearance, and you cringed self-consciously as you looked away.

“Why do you say that?” he asked.

“Because,” you started, stooping down to pick up the tablet beside your tool bag, “when I first came out here and saw the damage, I was afraid we’d end up in this situation. But then I remembered that the quarry’s ship took more damage than we did in our little space battle. I know for a fact we landed at least one solid hit, I saw it myself.”

“And?”

“Well,” you said as you tapped at the screen, “given the make and model of his vessel, and the location of where we struck the ship, I was able to deduce that we most likely damaged his engines. If his engines are damaged, then there is a maximum distance he could have gone before he would have been forced to land, or even crash landed. With all this information, plus the fact that I knew the general location of where we lost visual of him when we entered the atmosphere, I’ve estimated the quarry can’t be farther than five klicks from our current coordinates. And with his entry trajectory, he’s most likely in this triangulated area three and a half klicks to the west, which should be easily reachable on foot.”

You turned the map on the tablet to face the Mandalorian, and he stepped forward to take the device from you. His gloved fingers brushed across your singed ones, remnant electricity shooting through your veins, and you stifled a flinch as you dropped your arm.

Mando studied the map for a long moment, cocking his head and zooming in to get a better look. You shifted uneasily in the silence, scuffing the tip of your boot into the red soil, but then the bounty hunter finally looked back up at you.

“When did you have time to do this?” he asked, and he actually sounded… impressed. “You were out here for less than ten minutes after we landed.”

“It wasn’t that hard.” You shrugged as your cheeks flushed with heat, but you blamed the sweltering sun overhead and the soup-like air.

“I didn’t realize you were so good with numbers,” he said, his helmet staring directly at you.

“Numbers are easy,” you replied, shrugging again as you raised your hand to chew nervously on your nails, but you stopped yourself when you saw the crimson dirt still caked on your skin. “They don’t lie, once you understand the rules.”

“Did Peli teach you how to do this?” he inquired, and you were surprised by all these questions. Most of the time, the bounty hunter asked you one-or-two-word questions and expected one-or-two-word answers. You couldn’t figure out why this situation was any different, but you found yourself responding anyway.

“Partially,” you explained, and you wondered how you could phrase your answer to be vague but satisfactory. “She… taught me a lot of the specifics for bigger jobs like ships and larger machines, but I’ve always been good at numbers and tinkering.”

That seemed good enough. You didn’t think it was relevant that you first started tinkering because your former owner used to lock you in his shop’s basement with broken droids when you misbehaved, and putting the discarded machines back together kept you from going crazy when your punishments lasted days. You also didn’t think it relevant that when your former owner found out and realized he could profit off your skills, you fine-tuned your abilities to become indispensable. The bastard still hit you occasionally, and his other slaves weren’t treated any better, but you had to admit, him locking you in the basement all those years had saved your life. If you hadn’t cultivated the skills you had, Peli wouldn’t have bought you at auction when the bastard bit the sand, and she wouldn’t have dug out your transmitter chip and effectively freed you the moment you walked into Hanger 3-5. The tiny woman had said she needed an apprentice, not a slave, and so that was what you became. Now, you were a mechanic in your own right, and a damn good one if you did say so yourself. Mando just didn’t need to know how you’d gotten there.

The bounty hunter seemed to think the same thing, too, because he nodded once before he looked back at the tablet.

“This is good work,” he said, and something in your chest preened at his words before you squashed it down. “If these calculations are correct—”

“They are,” you interjected before you could stop yourself.

“Then I think I can set out on foot, find the quarry, and bring him back tomorrow just as you’re finishing the repairs,” Mando went on, and he glanced up at you again. “Does that time frame sound right to you?”

“Maybe.” You shrugged. “Should work for me, but it could take you a little longer. I’m unfamiliar with this terrain, and there are too many other variables, like jungle beasts or indigenous species, for me to be sure.”

“The terrain won’t be a problem,” the Mandalorian said as he handed you the tablet back. “And neither will any beasts or natives.”

You cocked an eyebrow at the bounty hunter but didn’t contradict his confidence. “Alright. Then, yes, I should have the ship up and running by the time you get back. Are you leaving now?”

“Once I grab some supplies,” Mando replied before he paused and seemed to consider you. “Will you be… okay until I return?”

It was a familiar question, albeit still surprising. The Mandalorian was a stoic, usually silent warrior, literally a wall of beskar steel. You’d seen him kill men as easy as breathing, and he threw each bounty into carbonite without an ounce of remorse.

And yet, every time he had to leave the ship alone, he asked you if you would be alright until he got back. The question and concern would have made no sense… if you hadn’t seen the bounty hunter interact with his foundling. He tried to hide it, but he treated the little green baby so gently you knew there had to be a warm, beating heart beneath all that beskar. You just never expected any tenderness to be aimed at you, so it drew you up short every time.

“Yeah.” You smiled. “I’ll be fine. Besides—”

You trailed off as you felt something touch your lower leg, and when you looked down, big brown eyes set in a little green face blinked back up at you. Then little green hands lifted in your direction, and you laughed as you swooped down, picked him up, and set him on your hip.

“Besides,” you continued, still chuckling as you booped the child on the nose and left a smudge of red dirt behind, “I’ll have this little guy to keep me company. Right, kid?”

The baby cooed and reached out, his three tiny fingers settling on the bridge of your nose as he tried to boop you back. When he withdrew his hand, though, his skin was dyed black.

“Huh?” You frowned at the slick ooze on his fingers, your eyes crossing as you tried to bring his hand into focus. “What’s on your hand there, bud?”

“It’s grease,” Mando supplied.

“What?” you asked as you turned your head to the bounty hunter.

“Grease,” he repeated, and he touched the intersection on the glass T of his visor, right over where the bridge of his nose would sit. “You’ve got some just there.”

“Oh.” You blushed, your hand flying up to cover your face. Not only were you covered in dirt and sweat, but grease now, too. Typical. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I thought you knew,” the Mandalorian said, but there was that faint undercurrent in his voice that you were sure was amusement now. “Don’t you have any rags?”

“I did,” you muttered as you tried to rub at your face with your shoulder, “but I had to throw most of them out after that oil leak we had on the moon we left about a week ago. It’s fine. I’m already a mess anyhow, and I’m just going to get dirtier as I fix up the ship.”

Mando seemed to stare at you intensely for a moment, and you had the feeling he was taking in just how filthy your clothes were. You could read nothing from his body language, though, and since he wasn’t speaking, there was nothing to infer from his voice, either. Embarrassed heat crawled up your neck, and you suddenly felt naked in your tank top and leggings. You shifted the child in your arms a little to bring him more in front of you and block more of you from view, but the effort was useless because Mando was abruptly spinning on heel and marching toward the ship’s ramp.

“I’m going to gather supplies,” he said gruffly over his shoulder. “Don’t let the kid touch any of the wires.”

And then he was gone, his cape flapping behind him as he disappeared into the bowels of the Razor Crest.

“Okay, bye,” you muttered, and you frowned after him before looking down at the kid and lowering your voice. “Your dad’s a little weird, you know that?”

The child blinked up at you and then seemed to nod his head in solemn agreement.

You laughed and kissed the top of his head even though you knew you were toeing a dangerous line here. You knew you were just the ship mechanic, the hired help, but you and the foundling had spent a lot of time together when the Mandalorian was out hunting bounties, and you couldn’t help loving the adorable baby like he was your own. He was mischievous and always looking to put things in his mouth that he shouldn’t, but something about his presence was calming, soothing. Plus, those big brown eyes were to die for. You weren’t even that surprised the kid had managed to wiggle his way under Mando’s beskar. It had only been a few months, but you knew without a shadow of a doubt that if it came down to it, you would give your life to save this child.

Which was wildly inappropriate, but you chose to ignore that fact.

“It’s just gonna be the two of us again for a bit, little man,” you told the foundling, turning back to face the Razor Crest. “But we’re gonna have some fun, yeah? Do you want to help me fix up the ship?”

The child gurgled into your ear and patted your cheek, which you took as an affirmative.

“Alright,” you laughed as you set him on a large root right next to your tool bag. You dug around until you found a tool you would need eventually, and then you handed it to the kid. “Here, hold this until I need it, okay? But don’t put it in your mouth.”

The foundling seemed to pout at that last bit, but he dutifully wrapped his three little fingers around the tool and held it firmly.

“Thank you.” You smiled. Then you turned back to the ship, put your hands on your hips, and furrowed your brow. “Now, where to start?”

You spent the next ten minutes assessing what was completely ruined, what was salvageable, and what you had on hand that wasn’t necessary and could possibly be retrofitted to fix the damage. The skeletal beginnings of a plan were already forming in your mind by the time the Mandalorian was clomping down the ramp again. You set down the tablet you’d been tapping away at and picked up the child once more, and the foundling babbled as he waved around the tool he was still holding.

“Be careful with that,” you chuckled, and you craned your head back to avoid getting smacked in the temple. “I’ll need it soon, so keep holding onto it.”

The child cooed and then shifted to wave the tool at the bounty hunter as he approached.

“Putting the kid to work now?” Mando asked as he stopped a few feet away. The crescent-shaped hilt of his favored Amban rifle jutted out over his left shoulder, and a small bag was slung over his right, probably filled with spare ammo, cuffs for the bounty, and possibly some food. You’d never personally seen the Mandalorian eat, though, and a part of you was convinced he didn’t, even if you rationally knew that wasn’t possible.

“Nah, I’m just teaching him a thing or two,” you said as you settled the foundling more soundly on your hip. “You’re never too young to learn something new, and on the plus side, being my little helper keeps him out of trouble. For the most part, anyway.”

“Thank you for watching him,” the bounty hunter said, tilting his visor down minutely to stare at the child, who grinned a gummy grin and waved the silver tool again. “I know it isn’t exactly what I hired you for—”

“I don’t mind,” you cut him off, and you glanced down to smile at the kid. “He’s pretty good company, and some of Peli’s droids have given me more trouble than he does. It’s really no problem.”

“Well, regardless,” Mando replied as his visor returned to studying you. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” You nodded, flushing again under his scrutiny. Then you cleared your throat and gestured at the bag on his back. “All ready?”

“Yes,” the bounty hunter said. “Days are longer here, but the sun will set eventually, and I want to try and find the quarry before moonrise. If all goes well, I should be back tomorrow before sunset.”

“Good luck, then,” you told him, and you lifted your chin with confidence. “I should have the ship ready when you return.”

“Thank you.” He inclined his helmet.

The baby suddenly burst out babbling something, and you glanced down to see him reaching out with his free hand toward the Mandalorian. His three little fingers made grabby motions, and the bounty hunter sighed.

“Listen to her while I’m gone, okay?” Mando murmured as he stepped closer into your personal bubble and held out his finger for the foundling to latch on to.

The child cooed, swinging the Mandalorian’s finger from side to side, and the breath stilled in your lungs as the bounty hunter’s glove brushed the edge of your mouth. You smelled something like leather and smoke, probably blaster residue, but then Mando was stepping back again, and the baby was forced to drop his finger.

“Keep alert,” he addressed you as he adjusted the pack on his shoulder. “We’re pretty far from any civilization out here, so I don’t think you should encounter anyone, but don’t assume you’re safe. And get inside the ship once the sun sets. The jungle will be more dangerous at night. I’ll have my comlink on me, but it’s affected by proximity, so you most likely won’t be able to contact me until I’m on my way back.”

“Don’t worry, Mando,” you said, and you patted the blaster he’d given you that was almost permanently attached to your hip. “I can defend myself if need be, and I have no desire to be caught outside after dark. We’ll be fine.”

“I know,” he replied, but you weren’t sure if he was trying to convince you or himself. Either way, he seemed to compose himself because he nodded once. “I’ll be back soon.”

“We’ll keep a weather eye on the horizon.” You smiled. “Try not to die of heat stroke.”

“I’ll try my best,” he said dryly, but after one more moment of staring at you and the foundling, he turned on heel and marched off into the jungle without another word. The multi-colored trees swallowed him almost instantly, and suddenly you were alone.

The child cooed sadly as he stared after the Mandalorian, and he turned his big brown eyes on you as if to say, Where’d he go?

“Don’t worry, bud,” you said, turning back to the ship. “He’ll be fine and back before you know it. Now, let’s take a look at those power converters, shall we?”

You set the foundling down beside your tool bag again, but you couldn’t help glancing over your shoulder in the direction the bounty hunter had disappeared in.

He’ll be fine and back before you know it, you repeated silently to yourself.

~~~~~

Two days later, you were starting to doubt the validity of your statements.

The sun had set and risen twice, and there was still no sign of Mando. Now, the celestial orb was steadily making its way across the horizon for the third time, and you sat on the ramp of the ship and glared up at the chattering canopy.

The child was down for a nap in the hammock the Mandalorian had set up in his own bunk, and your eyes burned with a similar exhaustion, but the anxiety slowly mounting in you made it impossible to sleep. The past two days had passed uneventfully. You’d spent every hour of sunlight you had at your disposal patching together the ship, and since days were longer on this planetoid, you estimated you’d spent over seventy-two hours getting the Razor Crest in working order again.

And you’d done it. It wasn’t perfect, but the ship could fly, and you were ninety-eight percent certain it would withstand leaving the atmosphere.

Now, all that was missing was the Mandalorian and his bounty.

“Dank farrik, Mando,” you grumbled under your breath as you dragged your singed, cut-up, and bandaged fingers through your hair. “Where the Maker are you?”

The chittering birds and critters in the underbrush didn’t have an answer for you, and you huffed out an aggravated breath as another bead of sweat dripped into your eyes.

By your estimate, there were about six hours left before the sun set again. Part of you, the illogical, irrational part, wanted to charge into the jungle in search of the Mandalorian. You had a general direction and location he should be in. Maybe you could find him.

But the rational side of your brain thankfully pointed out all the problems with that plan. For one, leaving the ship unattended was dangerous. You hadn’t seen anyone in the past two days, but that didn’t mean you were alone in the jungle, and now that the ship could fly again, someone could potentially walk right in and steal the vessel if you weren’t here to stop them.

Then there was the issue of the foundling. Sometimes, Mando took you and the kid along with him when he was hunting a bounty in a more populated area, but he was always there to protect the two of you if something went wrong. What happened if you brought the child with you into the jungle and you couldn’t protect him? And you couldn’t exactly leave him behind. Someone could steal both the child and the Razor Crest in that scenario.

The most compelling reason to stay with the ship, though, was Mando himself. Before he left, he’d confidently declared that neither the jungle itself nor the beasts or peoples therein would pose any problem for him. If he was wrong, and these things had posed a problem for the bounty hunter, what luck did you have of doing something he could not?

Anddddd that’s where the irrational side of you chimed in again with, Well, if he did run into an issue, he could need your help, so you should go look for him.

It was a vicious cycle, and your head was pounding with how fast it was running in circles.

You groaned as you dropped your face into your hands, digging the heels of your palms into your eye sockets.

“Fine,” you sighed into the darkness. “I’ll give him until morning.”

If the Mandalorian hadn’t returned by then, you’d start up the ship and fly over the area you’d triangulated for him. If you couldn’t find him from the air… well, you’d cross that bridge when you came to it.

~~~~~

You huffed in irritation as you tossed and turned in Mando’s bunk that night. You turned one way, rolled another, but then you found yourself with your nose buried in his pillow, and you instantly flipped back over, face hot with embarrassment even though it was dark and you were practically alone. You weren’t sure if he slept with his helmet on when he was alone in the closed confines of the bunk, but either way, the small space smelled of him intensely. You tried not to put words to his scent, told yourself it was inappropriate and he was your boss, a Mandalorian to boot, and you had no room or right to think of him in any way other than strictly professional… but that apparently didn’t work because you knew he smelled like the cheap soap from the fresher, and the rest was a blend of smoke, leather, and metal, the degrees of which varied by the day and yet was still always uniquely him.

You knew you were playing a losing game even just having these thoughts, but you somehow couldn’t help yourself, couldn’t stop yourself. Ever since Mando stepped between you and Ran’s crew all those months ago, blocking you with his body, a startling, protective rage in every inch of his armored silhouette, this little voice had come to life in the back of your head and wouldn’t shut the kriff up.

What if? the little voice whispered. What if it’s not just you having these thoughts? What if you could have him in more than just your dreams and fantasies in the darkness of this bunk?

Usually, you shoved the voice into the deep, dark recesses of your thoughts and recited equations until it grew quiet. You knew that was nothing but wishful thinking at best and delusion at worst. The Mandalorian was just that: a warrior closed off from the world by a shell of silver beskar. He cared for the foundling, yes, but that was entirely different and bore no correlation to the bounty hunter’s relationship with you. There was little he could possibly want from a former slave turned mechanic, aside from your skills, of course, so you clenched your eyes closed and tried to take shallow breaths through your mouth, but nothing you did could get his scent out of your nose, your memory.

You sighed for the umpteenth time and rolled to face the wall of the bunk.

When the bounty hunter was on the ship, the two of you usually slept in shifts so you could share the bunk, though sometimes the Mandalorian slept upright in the cockpit. It had been his idea originally. You’d been fine with a thin sleeping mat on the floor of the cargo bay, but he’d insisted in his strange, stoic, nonchalant way. So, you shared, and when it was just you and the kid on the ship, the two of you had the run of the place.

The child was currently in the hammock above your head, but you were pretty sure he wasn’t asleep, either. Every so often, he’d gurgle or make some other noise, and more than once you peeked up to find big brown eyes staring down at you in the dimness. You wondered if he could sense your anxiety, and you shifted so you could glare past your feet, out of the bunk, and at the closed ramp door.

You wanted to be angry with Mando, but by the time the sun set a few hours ago, you’d moved past that anger and straight into worry. The bounty hunter had never been gone this long before without contact, and your gut told you something was wrong and wouldn’t let you sleep. You wished you could blame your insomnia completely on your concern, but sadly, that wasn’t the case.

As if on cue, a sudden, piercing shriek echoed through the ship, and all the muscles in your body locked up on reflex.

The child gasped and made a worried noise as he poked his head over the edge of his hammock and stared down at you, and you tried to plaster on a fake, reassuring smile.

“It’s alright,” you murmured, reaching up to gently rock the foundling. “The ship’s closed and locked up. They can’t get us in here.”

The baby made an unconvinced sound, but he settled back into his bed without any further argument.

You sighed as you continued to rock the child, and you did your best not to flinch when another high-pitched screech sounded outside the ship.

You weren’t entirely sure what “they” were, but you knew they were nocturnal and carnivorous. And hungry. The past two mornings, you’d found bloody animal remains torn to bits and strewn along the edges of the clearing the Razor Crest was parked in like gory, crimson confetti. You’d kept the child practically glued to your side during the days because of this, but nothing ever attacked you during the day. They just circled the ship incessantly at night, howling and screeching and keeping you from finding a moment’s peace or rest. They hadn’t outright attacked the ship yet, but you were ready for it, your borrowed blaster a cold and heavy weight tucked under your pillow.

Reaching for it now, you curled your fingers around the familiar hilt and tried to block out the crescendoing, bloodthirsty shrieks of the mysterious jungle beasts.

You didn’t know how or when, but you must have dozed off at some point because all of the sudden, you jolted awake with a panicked gasp.

The bunk was dark and close around you, but since you’d left the door open at your feet, it wasn’t claustrophobic. Your vision was still blurry with sleep, so you swiped at your eyes with the back of your left wrist as you scrambled into a seated position. In your right hand you grasped the blaster, and you pointed it blindly in front of you, toward the rear of the ship.

You couldn’t remember what had woken you up, but it had been something. Your heart pounded a frantic tattoo into the underside of your ribcage, your arm shaking minutely with adrenaline. The ramp was still closed in front of you, so it hadn’t been Mando opening the door and returning. You squinted in the darkness but couldn’t see anything beyond shadows and vague shapes in pale, muted moonlight. It must have still been night, then.

You strained your ears, listening for the howling, but it was quiet. Suspiciously quiet. The jungle beasts usually didn’t go silent until right before dawn, but it was dark enough in the ship that you estimated it was still the middle of the night.

Where had they gone?

Your heart rose up into your throat, sweat beading at every one of your pores, and your mouth was so dry that your throat clicked when you swallowed.

The child made a noise of inquiry above you, barely louder than a breath, but it still made you jump all the same. Your gaze darted upward to find brown eyes staring down at you, but they were wide in an alarmed sort of way. One three-fingered hand poked over the edge of the hammock, making grabby motions at you, and the noise he made this time was more urgent, louder.

Had he heard something, too?

“What is it, little guy?” you whispered, reaching up with your free hand and awkwardly grappling him from his sling-bed.

He tumbled gently into your lap with a soft “oof,” but almost immediately he was standing up, turning around, and frantically patting at your cheek.

“What?” you asked with a frown.

He babbled and continued to tap the side of your face, and his noises grew increasingly distressed until he was grunting with frustration.

Then his tiny palm actually slapped down right across your ear canal so hard that both of your ears rang, and you hissed as you jerked your head back.

“Kriff, what was that fo—” you started to ask, but another hiss cut you off, and this one wasn’t from you.

Your heart stuttered, eyes skipping over the child’s head and out into the cargo bay, and your right hand tightened around the blaster you’d lowered to your side.

But there was nothing there. Nothing moved in the shadowy ship beyond you, and you frowned, thinking your mind was playing tricks on your startled and sleep-addled mind, but then the hiss came again.

And this time, you recognized it.

“Oh, pfassk!” you cursed as you craned around and shoved your hand under the pillow. Your fingers scrambled wildly across the sheet but encountered nothing, and you growled in aggravation, shifting the child off your lap and coming onto your hands and knees. You tossed the pillow over your shoulder in a fit of frustration, and your right hand slapped at the wall around your head until the bunk light came on.

You squinted in the flood of harsh light, the child gurgling behind you, but when your vision cleared, you spotted the thumb-sized comlink off the edge of the cot, shoved up into the far corner of the bunk. You lunged forward and wrapped your fingers around the small device, and the words were falling out of your mouth before you were even sure you had hit the button.

“Mando?” you called into the comlink, cringing when your loud voice echoed back to you in the close confines of the bunk. “Mando, can you hear me?”

Mild static crackled back for a moment as you huddled around the tiny communicator, but then a louder burst of static—the hiss from earlier—exploded to life.

And you were sure you heard Mando’s voice in there.

“Mando!” you shouted as you heart did its best imitation of a speeder, and you cupped both hands around the comlink like that would help him hear you better. “Mando, it’s me! I’m here. Can you hear me?”

Another burst of static. Then…

Mando yelled your name, clear as day, followed by a scream of what sounded like “help” and a chorus of familiar howling, and your stomach bottomed out inside of you.

“Mando!” You were gripping the communicator so hard you were afraid you were going to break it. “Mando, where are you? What’s wrong?”

He didn’t respond. You sat there frozen for a full minute, ears straining to the point of ringing, but only quiet static crackled back at you.

“Dank farrik!” you cursed, punching the side of your fist into the bunk wall.

The child cooed at you, brown eyes big with concern, and he put his tiny hand on your knee as you raked a shaking hand through your hair.

Your chest heaved up and down as you fought for breath, your mind spinning off into a million directions at once.

Mando was in trouble. Mando needed your help. He was fighting jungle beasts, and he was far enough away that you couldn’t hear the shrieking with your own ears, but close enough that he could partially reach you over the comlink. You had to do something. You had to go help him.

But what about the child? What about the ship? You couldn’t take the Razor Crest. It was pitch black outside, and you wouldn’t be able to see Mando below the thick, dark canopy. You had to go on foot.

And you had to take the kid with you.

“Come on,” you said as you tucked the communicator into your pocket, grabbed the foundling and blaster, and scooted to the edge of the bunk. Your boots were on the ground below you, and you shoved your feet in them blindly, tying the laces in three deft movements.

Then you were on your feet, turning on the cargo lights, and jogging the child over to his floating silver carrier. You grabbed the spare remote on top of it, pressing the button and watching the top slide open with a hiss. Then you set the foundling down inside of it, and in the same motion you were tucking the remote into your pocket, turning on heel, and striding for the armory.

Another button press, followed by the hiss of hydraulics, and you were left staring at several walls of guns and weaponry. Some of them you knew. Mando had even taught you how to shoot a few, but those were typically smaller blasters.

And based on those howling screeches, you needed something with more of a kick.

Your eyes skipped over the blaster pistols since you already had the one on your hip, and after a moment’s indecision, your gaze settled on a midsized rifle you’d shot once before. You hadn’t been very good at it, only hit four of the ten targets Mando set out, and you remember it being very heavy.

But it was better than nothing, and you needed something to fight back against the dark jungle.

So, you took the rifle down and looped it around your shoulder, pursing your lips as the strap dug into your skin. You spent a moment checking the power cell and gas canister, and even though both were full, you still stuck a few spares into a belt that you wrapped around your hips. You also added a few grenades to your arsenal, both explosive and ones set to stun, plus a pair of Mando’s vibroknives, as a last defense measure. If you were being honest, if the rifle and grenades failed you, you probably wouldn’t live long enough to use the knives, but it made you feel better to clip their sheaths unto your belt.

The rifle and belt weighed you down with an extra five to six kilos, but you had lugged far heavier burdens through Tatooine’s desert, so you knew you could handle it.

The last two things you grabbed were the head lamp you typically wore when working under or inside ships and the cuff you’d programmed to work the twin lights—along with a variety of other tasks aboard the Razor Crest—resting at each of your temples. The cuff was a haphazard creation of yours made of old leather, metal, and glass, but it worked and was comfortable, which was all that mattered. It also had a small magnetic slot that was specifically meant for the remote of the foundling’s floating carrier, so you fished that out of your pocket and felt it snap into place with a satisfying click.

You were armed and ready now. All you had to do was move.

“Mando,” you said as you stuck the comlink in your ear and synced it to your cuff, which had a built-in frequency booster. You were already moving toward the ramp, tapping at your wrist and listening to the foundling’s carrier humming after you. The rifle felt heavy as you maneuvered it into your slick palms, and your heart hammered a war song in your ears. “Mando, I’m coming for you. Just hold on, okay?”

Static crackled in your ear, and your chest began to heave up and down as adrenaline flooded through you.

“Okay, little man, you’re going to take a nap, alright?” you said as you looked down at the child in his pod, your voice shaking even though you tried to stop it. “And when you wake up, your dad will be back with us.”

He cooed up at you with a fearful expression on his face, but you only spared a moment to press a kiss to his head before you were tapping at your wrist again. The lid of the pod started to hiss close as the ramp of the ship began to clank open, and you slid your finger onto the rifle’s trigger as the door slowly lowered before you.

The ramp finally thudded to the jungle floor, and you took a moment to stare out into the foreboding darkness. The moon was pale and wan in the purple-tinted sky, and all you could see were shadows along the edges of the clearing. Your eyes darted back and forth, every muscle in your body locked and braced for an attack, but nothing happened. Nothing moved save the indigo clouds over head, and the only sound you heard was the muted chirps and hums of insects.

“Okay, come on, quit stalling,” you muttered to yourself even though your heart felt like it was about to roll off your tongue. “Mando doesn’t have time for this.”

At the sound of his name—or at least, the only name you had ever known the bounty hunter by—some of the fear inside you vanished, and you were suddenly jogging down the ramp without further thought. The child’s carrier trailed after you quietly, and you jabbed at your wrist to close and lock up the Razor Crest.

You spared half a glance over your shoulder to make sure the ramp was secured, and then you looked down at your cuff. Mando’s comlink had a built in GPS transmitter, but its range was limited. However, if he was close enough to briefly contact you…

A dot flickered in and out on the grungy screen on your wrist, and you spun in a circle to figure out which direction had the strongest connection. The dot flared brightly when you angled toward the west, and you started running before you even had a plan.

You crashed through the underbrush with the child’s pod hot on your heels, and the thick, humid air sawed in and out of your heaving lungs as you gasped for breath. The lights at your temples provided enough illumination to see several steps ahead of you but not much else, and you tripped and careened over root and vine as you tried not to lose your grip on the rifle.

The good news was the dot on your read-out was no longer flickering, and it was now a strong red point about a kilometer ahead of you.

The bad news?

The jungle was no longer quiet around you.

As your feet pounded into the red soil and carried you forward, static crackled loudly in your ear, and the howling returned, faint at first but growing closer. Shivers wracked your sweat-slicked spine, and every fiber of your being was screaming to run the other way.

But you couldn’t. Because now you could hear Mando grunting and shouting over the comlink, clearer and clearer with each step, and as you vaulted over a protruding root in your path, you distinctly heard a roar of rage directly ahead of you.

You would have shouted his name if there was any breath left in your lungs, but instead you just lowered your head and sprinted as fast as you could.

The howling was nearly deafening now, echoing all around you, seeming to come from every shadow in the jungle. Your ears rang with the soul-piercing shrieks, and the cacophony was so disorienting, you tripped over your own feet and crashed into the dirt.

“Kriff!” you gasped, your knees and palms stinging as you skidded to a halt. Dots danced in front of your eyes as you panted harshly, and the rifle knocked painfully against your sternum.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the child’s pod come to a stop several feet away, the silver orb glinting in the pale moonlight barely filtering through the canopy.

Then you saw something else shift in the shadows behind the floating carrier.

At first, you thought it was your swimming vision, but then the weak lights of your headlamp reflected off several glinting eyes, and the breath stalled in your lungs.

A guttural, wet growl echoed out of the bushes beyond the foundling’s pod, and in the next instant the beast was lunging forward, vaulting over the carrier in one bound.

You yelped as you scrambled backward, fumbling for the rifle’s trigger, and you got the barrel up just in time to block a bifurcated jaw of gnashing fangs. The beast let out a piercing shriek as it snapped at your face, and the familiar sound nearly popped your eardrum at this proximity, but the pain barely even registered as you wedged your legs up under the creature’s chest and heaved it off you.

The beast let out a high-pitched yip as it smacked into a tree trunk, but you didn’t give it the chance to regain its feet. In one swift movement, you brought the rifle up, sighted down the barrel, and pulled the trigger.

The blaster must have been set on full-auto because a continuous stream of energy screamed out of the weapon, and the barrel jerked upward with the recoil. Bolts of energy shredded through the vines and branches overhead, and some kind of bat-bird creature screeched as it dove out of the canopy and swooped over you. It thankfully wasn’t trying to attack, merely flee, and the avian-beast cawed angrily as it disappeared into the jungle.

“P-Pfassk,” you panted, your voice as jittery as your racing pulse. Still, you scrambled to your feet, with the smoking rifle held tight in your shaking grasp, and you stared wide-eyed at the corpse of the beast that had attacked you.

The thing was almost two meters long, and six disjointed looking limbs jutted out from underneath it. Your would-be-killer looked vaguely canine yet also insect-like, with its long snout and what looked like scaled plates along its spine. The combination made your stomach churn. The blaster had carved smoldering holes into most of the creature’s flesh, but the uncharred remains were blackish-purple, mottled with spots of blue and green that matched the jungle’s underbrush. The beast was entirely hairless and slick-looking like an oil spill, and its bifurcated maw hung open to reveal rows of rotted black fangs. Two pairs of pale white eyes stared blindly up at the dark sky, and purplish blood seeped out around the carcass to stain the jungle floor.

Bile rose in your throat, but before you could even process your fear, terror, and revulsion, a very human sounding scream echoed through the dark night, and you whipped your head in the direction it had come from.

“Mando,” you breathed, and you spared the dead beast one last glance before you took off running again, every sense on high alert.

You didn’t dare blink as you crashed through the underbrush, and you pushed your aching limbs as fast as they would go. The din of snarling and howling was so loud now it was rattling your teeth, and all of the sudden you were stumbling out of the thick tree line and into a small clearing.

A clearing riddled with bodies, both living and dead.

Your brain stuttered as it tried to assess the scene before you. The canopy overhead was broken in a perfect circle, so the moonlight here was strong and bright after the deep shadows of the jungle, and it illuminated everything perfectly. The Mandalorian stood in the center of the carnage, half collapsed against a rotten log twice as tall as he was. Carcasses of the canine-like beasts were piled up in mounds around the clearing, some shot but some charred into blackened skeletons, and the stench of burnt flesh invaded your nose and sat heavy on the back of your tongue.

For every dead beast, though, there were two more still snarling, and boy, were they pissed.

The pack of creatures prowled in a semi-circle before the bounty hunter, all their attention centered on him, and they growled and snapped their bifurcated jaws in his direction. They didn’t seem to want to attack him head on, and a moment later you saw why.

One of the beasts must have reached its breaking point, because with the same piercing shriek that had kept you up the past two nights, it lunged for the Mandalorian, the moonlight glinting off the armored plates along its spine.

The poor bastard never made it.

While the creature was still in mid-air, Mando jerked his wrist up, and a blast of flames roared out of his vambrace. The beast screeched as it was swallowed by the inferno, and its charred corpse crashed to the ground at Mando’s feet a moment later. The remainder of the pack snarled in fury as they paced in front of the bounty hunter, but you felt your throat tighten with fear.

The flamethrower was obviously a great weapon at repelling these creatures, but judging by the radius on that last spurt of fire, you estimated Mando had enough fuel for one, maybe two more attacks.

And there were dozens of the beasts left.

What were you going to do?

You heaved for breath as your eyes darted around the clearing, trying to look for a solution, but you knew the answer was obvious: you were going to have to fight.

You blindly tapped at your wrist, and a moment later the child’s carrier rose up above your head and nestled against the lowest branch of the tree you were standing under. You didn’t know if the beasts could climb, but the pod was made of a strong, reinforced metal, so as long as the creatures didn’t notice the kid, he should be fine.

The same couldn’t be said for you.

Maker, you were going to regret this, weren’t you?

You didn’t give yourself the chance to change your mind.

“Hey!” you shouted as you stepped further into the clearing, one of your hands dropping to the belt on your waist.

The chorus of snarls and growls tapered off for a moment as the pack whipped around in unison to face you, and the saliva evaporated in your mouth as you stared at the dozens of glowing white eyes.

At the sound of your voice, you could see Mando jerk upright in your peripherals, but you didn’t dare tear your eyes off the pack as they started to stalk toward you. Sweat dripped down your face and trickled along your spine as you palmed a cold, heavy orb in your right hand, and you watched the distance between you and the creatures shrink bit by bit.

Mando shouted your name, but you ignored him.

“Yeah, that’s right!” you yelled at the beasts instead. “You guys hungry? Why don’t you come and get me?”

“What are you doing?” Mando roared, but you still didn’t pay him any mind as you tracked the pack. There were maybe three dozen left alive, and they bared their black fangs at you as they drew closer and closer.

Twenty meters… fifteen… ten…

Now.

“Take this!” You heaved your arm back, aimed at the beast in the center of the pack’s line, and threw with all your might, and the creature yelped as the stun grenade struck him in the skull.

A moment later, a web of electricity exploded out of the orb and arced through half of the pack, and the poor bastards screeched and screamed as they fell spasming to the jungle floor. The beasts on the edges snarled as they jumped away from their sparking brethren, and you saw some of the canine-monsters retreat into the shadows of the clearing.

This was your chance.

You darted forward the moment you had a clear path to take, and you vaulted over the pack’s twitching bodies in three swift strides. When you landed on the other side of them, you spun around and faced the fallen creatures as they whined and spasmed on the ground. Then you lifted your rifle, aimed haphazardly, and pulled the trigger. You swept the barrel from side to side for a moment, energy bolts tearing and searing through flesh, but then you whirled back around and sprinted toward the Mandalorian’s prone form.

He was propped up against the log with his legs splayed out in front of him, and you inhaled sharply when you saw the dark stain of blood on the ground beneath his right thigh. His Amban rifle lay beside him, but since he wasn’t using it, you assumed he was out of ammo. The bounty hunter listed heavily onto what you first thought was a rock of some kind, but as you skidded to a stop in front of him, you realized the lump was the body of another humanoid, except it didn’t look to be breathing.

“Mando!” you gasped as you crouched down in front of him. “Maker, w-what happened—”

“What are you doing here?” he cut you off with a snarl, and the absolute rage in his voice drew you up short.

You gaped at his visor, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “W-What… you called—”

“I didn’t call you, he did, right before they tore out his throat,” Mando growled and shoved the prone form beside him.

The body flopped over with a thud, and you stifled a gag when you realized the poor bastard had been eviscerated. He was torn open from gut to gullet, intestines and innards gleaming wetly in the dark, and his bulging black eyes stared up unseeingly at the moon.

“Dank farrik, Mando,” you breathed in horror. “What happened?”

The Mandalorian tilted his helmet up to look at you, but then his gaze seemed to shift over your shoulder, and he was suddenly latching onto your wrist with an iron grip and tugging you forward.

“Watch out!” he shouted as you tripped over his legs and landed on the other side of him, and a moment later you heard and felt the roar of flames at your back as another beast met a smoldering end.

You scrambled up onto your knees and whirled around, rifle held at the ready, but there were only the two new dead creatures sprawled at Mando’s feet. Their corpses smoked as their blackened flesh crackled, and this time you weren’t successful in stifling your gag. You dry-heaved off to the side, tears blurring your vision, but when the chorus of bone-chilling howls started up again, you blinked away the tears and clenched your rifle in a white-knuckled grip.

“We gotta get out of here,” you panted, your eyes darting from place to place as you tried to track the beasts slithering through the shadows.

“Can’t,” Mando grunted, and all of the sudden, you realized his voice sounded off, slurred.

You whipped back around to face the bounty hunter, and your gaze immediately fell to the dark stain under his leg. It had grown since you’d first seen it, and then you realized a haphazard tourniquet was lashed around the top of his leg, right above the metal plate that covered the front of his thigh.

“You’re hurt,” you breathed. It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah.” Mando’s head jerked up and down in an unsteady nod. “Just… happened. One of them got me… when I was trying to save the bounty. Pretty sure they nicked my femoral.”

His words were softer and definitely slurred now, and panic rose up in your throat like a burning coal.

“Then we need to get back to the Razor Crest now,” you said as you reached for his shoulders, but the Mandalorian sluggishly shoved you away.

“I’ll… only slow you down,” he grunted. “The bounty and I… are easy meals. The pack should stay to finish us off while you make a break for the sh—”

“No,” you cut him off, and the snarl in your voice surprised even you. “No, Mando. I’m not leaving you to die. We’re only a kilometer away from the Razor Crest. I have extra power cells and grenades. We can make it.”

Mando’s head thunked back against the log he leaned on as he stared up at you, and even if you couldn’t see the face underneath the visor, you could see the resignation in every inch of him.

And it ignited a fury in you unlike anything you had ever known.

“So, what?” you growled, bending down to bare your teeth in his face. “You’re just gonna sit here and die? What about the kid? You just gonna abandon him?”

You’re just going to abandon me? you didn’t say, but the words rattled against the backs of your clenched teeth.

“He’ll… have you,” Mando said, and suddenly his gloved hand reached up as if to touch your face, but he didn’t seem to have the strength, and the tip of his index finger barely grazed the edge of your jaw. His touch left behind a warm streak on your skin, and you didn’t have to look to know it was blood.

“That’s not good enough,” you snarled before you stooped down and grabbed the ends of his makeshift tourniquet, yanking tightly on both ends until Mando groaned in pain and latched onto your shoulders.

He murmured your name, his modulator crackling in your ear, but you ignored him as you looped his spent Amban rifle over his shoulder and shifted to slide your left arm behind his back, throwing his right arm over your shoulders. You took two deep breaths to brace yourself, and then you dug your fingers into his waist as you tried to leverage the both of you onto your feet.

It was nearly impossible. The Mandalorian had to weigh nearly ninety kilos in his beskar, and with the added weight of the weapons and grenades you carried, you could feel the muscles in your legs, core, and back scream at the strain.

“Dank… farrik,” you hissed out between clenched teeth, but you managed to get the two of you upright, even if Mando was practically limp against you. Still, you had to leverage your back against the log behind you to keep from collapsing.

“We’ll never make it… back to the ship like this,” Mando panted, his cold helmet brushing against the shell of your ear.

“Shut up,” you gritted out, listening to the howling beasts closing in again like they could sense your weakness. “I refuse to leave you behind. So, unless you want to kill us both, you need to get your ass in gear, Mando. I can keep them off our backs as we go, but you need to walk with me. Understand?”

“Cyare,” he slurred, and the unfamiliar word sounded pained as his helmet thunked into your temple. “I… don’t want you to die.”

“Then walk,” you grunted as you tightened your grip on his waist and lurched forward a step.

Mando staggered behind you, half draped over your back, but you widened your stance and refused to go down.

“Please… Mando,” you panted, shoving the barrel of your rifle into the loamy red soil to act as a crutch. “Help me save us. Just… just put one foot in front of the other.”

“Wait,” the Mandalorian said, and he actually lifted his head off your shoulder. “The bounty…”

“The bounty’s dead,” you grunted as your eyes darted to the trees again. You could see the sinuous shapes of the pack weaving between the towering trunks, but they kept their distance for the moment. They’d lost more than half of their numbers by your estimate, and you prayed to the Maker they would just give up, but you knew that would be way too convenient for your life.

“The puck… said dead or alive,” Mando sighed, his arm weighing down on the nape of your neck like a yoke, and it reminded you of the slave’s collar you once wore.

“I can’t carry both of you back, Mando,” you growled in frustration. “I can barely drag you.”

“Don’t need the whole body,” he clarified. “Just… the head. It’s… a big bounty.”

You groaned as you glanced down at the quarry’s corpse, and then you tilted your head back to try and look at Mando.

“Can you stand by yourself for a minute?” you asked.

“Maybe,” Mando grunted, but he shifted his weight off you bit by bit and leaned up against the tall log at your backs. His boots slid a few inches in the blood-soaked dirt as he almost collapsed, but he dug his gloved fingers into the rigid bark and stood there shaking.

“Didn’t know I was paying you for maybes,” you parroted his words from days ago back at him in an attempt to take his mind off the pain, and it seemed to work because he actually huffed out a strained-sounding chuckle.

“Hurry,” he panted, and you nodded as you quickly stepped away from him, stood over the bounty’s corpse, and shoved the barrel of your rifle between his shoulder and neck.

It was so dark, and you were running on so much adrenaline you couldn’t even be sure of what species the man used to be, but you pushed the thought away as you took a deep breath and held down the trigger.

The rifle screeched as it tore through flesh like a hot knife through butter, and you tried to ignore the feeling of lukewarm blood splattering across your lower legs. Moments later, the jittery, rapid-fire motions of the gun ceased, and the bounty’s head rolled away from the smoldering stump of his neck.

Bile rose up in your throat again, but you swallowed it down as you picked up the decapitated head and started punching buttons on your cuff.

Instantly, you heard the familiar hum of the child’s pod drone closer and closer, and behind you Mando inhaled sharply as the jungle dogs yipped in curiosity from the shadows.

“You brought the kid?” he growled.

“Well, it wasn’t like you left me much kriffing choice, but you can fire me later for child endangerment,” you snapped as the carrier floated down to stop in front of you. Then you turned to the Mandalorian and held out your bloodied hand. “I need your fibercord whip. Eject it.”

Mando didn’t even question you, he just did as he was bid. Within moments, you had the thin but strong wire wound up in your palm, and then you started the gory process of wrapping it securely around the bounty’s bloody head. Your stomach churned at the slick warm goo covering your skin, but you swallowed the saliva pooling in your mouth as you tapped at your wrist again.

The child’s pod opened with a hiss, and you made sure to lower the decapitated head so it was below the carrier and out of the foundling’s line of sight.

“Hey there, bud,” you said as you leaned down and tucked the end of the fibercord into the interior of the pod near the hinges. “Look who I found.”

The foundling cooed and gurgled happily when he caught sight of the Mandalorian, and he lifted his arms and made grabby motions at the bounty hunter.

“Not yet,” you said as you stepped forward and blocked Mando from view. “First, we need to get back to the ship, so I need to close you up again. Don’t worry about anything you hear, though, okay? I promise we’ll be fine.”

The child murmured a soft sound as you bent down and kissed his wrinkled brow, but then you tapped at your wrist, and the pod closed with another hiss, locking the wire with the dangling head in place. You keyed in a few more commands, and the carrier rose up high above you, hovering at least six meters off the ground. Blood dripped from the severed stump of the quarry’s neck as it dangled from the pod, and you flinched when a speck of it landed on your cheek. It might be disgusting, but this way, the child and the remainder of the bounty would hopefully be out of reach of any of the beasts, and you could focus all your energy on getting you and Mando back to the Razor Crest.

“Alright.” You tore your gaze away from the silver pod and shifted your grasp on the rifle, wedging the stock against your right shoulder as tight as you could. You knew your aim would be abysmal since you were going have to shoot one handed while dragging Mando, but you hoped the full-auto setting would grant you some leeway. “Let’s go.”

“You really should—” the Mandalorian started, but you clicked your tongue to cut him off.

“That wasn’t a request,” you said as you sidled up against the bounty hunter and double checked that his tourniquet was secure.

“Fine.” He reluctantly draped his right arm over your shoulder, and you wrapped your left one around his waist. Then the two of you pushed off the log at your backs, and you staggered forward several steps, trying not to trip on any dead jungle dogs.

Mando’s cold beskar felt like it was burning you wherever it brushed against your bare, hot flesh, and he groaned in your ear as he practically dragged his injured leg behind him. The agony of his voice made you want to stop and sprint forward all at the same time, but you settled for stumbling several more steps.

“That’s it,” you panted in encouragement. “One step at a time.”

The pack howled and shrieked as you painstakingly shuffled your way across the clearing, but you haphazardly aimed your rifle into the jungle and held down the trigger. Rapid-fire bolts of energy careened into the darkness, illuminating white eyes and flashes of twining vines and snarling beasts, but several yowls echoed through the night, so you knew you’d hit at least some of them.

“Mando,” you gritted out as you neared the tree line. “I need you to hit my cuff. There’s a button on the side that will turn up my headlamp. I want it at maximum. Since these bastards are nocturnal, I’m guessing they don’t like the light.”

The Mandalorian grunted something that sounded like an affirmative, and then his left hand was swatting blindly at your cuff. After fumbling for a moment, his thick, gloved fingers encircled your wrist, his thumb brushing faintly over your thudding pulse point.

Your feet nearly tangled beneath you, but then Mando found the button on your cuff, and he pressed on it until the lights at your temple were bright enough to blind. The beams of white light cut through the oppressive darkness of the jungle, and the canine creatures yelped in pain as they darted back into the shadows. You swung your gaze back and forth, your lamp dragging over the scenery like a burning laser, and the beasts whimpered as their tails disappeared into the bushes.

“Come on,” you groaned as you dragged Mando forward, and the two of you finally stumbled into the thick of the trees.

You didn’t know how much time passed as you and the Mandalorian struggled back to the ship. Seconds seemed like minutes, minutes hours. The moon appeared frozen in the sky above your head, and more than once you had the thought that you were already dead, and this was some messed up version of an afterlife where you were tortured for eternity.

In the end, though, you knew you were alive.

If you weren’t, it wouldn’t hurt so much.

“Left,” Mando slurred in your ear, half draped over your back, and your feet stuttered as you swung both of you around to the left.

The rifle screeched as it fired off into the darkness, followed by the yelps of dying dogs, and you hissed as the stock dug into your already sore shoulder. The pack snarled and gurgled as they encircled you, but they were hesitant now that you’d killed a majority of them. You wondered why they just didn’t give up, but you realized they could most likely sense you weakening, slowing.

Sweat ran in rivers down your face and spine, and every tendon in your body felt like it was on the edge of snapping. You could tell Mando was trying to take some of his weight off you, but he was becoming more and more unsteady with each step, his breath jagged and uneven as it rasped out of his helmet. He probably wouldn’t remain conscious for much longer, and if he passed out before you reached the ship, you were both dead. You couldn’t fully carry him, and you would not even entertain the idea of leaving him, so it was all or nothing.

Either you both reached the ship together, or neither of you did.

But, as you glanced up at the child’s pod hovering high over your head, you knew the second choice wasn’t really an option. The kid needed you. Needed both of you.

So, you were going to kriffing live, even if you had to break your body down to achieve your goal.

“Come on,” you encouraged as you stumbled over a tree root. “Come on, Mando. We’re almost there. Stay with me, okay?”

You had no idea if you were almost there or not. The homing beacon on your cuff was beeping steadily, but with all the howling, and the blood pounding through your ears, you couldn’t approximate how close you were to the Razor Crest.

“I’m… trying,” Mando mumbled, lifting his head just slightly. “B-Behind us.”

You cursed under your breath, letting the rifle dangle against your chest as you fumbled at your waist. Your fingers curled around a cold, metal orb, and you clicked the button in its center before you lobbed the grenade over your shoulder with all the strength you had left, which wasn’t much.

Then you staggered forward a little faster, dragging the bounty hunter behind you, and five seconds later, you heard the stun grenade go off, followed by the crackling of static and the yelping of beasts.

“That’s my last… stun grenade,” you panted, and the hair on your arms stood on end with all the electricity in the moist air. “I have some explosive ones… but…”

“But we’re not fast enough to get out of range in time,” Mando finished for you, his helmet bumping into the crown of your head as he sagged a little more.

“Yeah,” you huffed, but then a crunch to your right had you whirling and firing in one motion.

The canine yipped and screeched as the energy bolts tore through its chest mid-lunge, and it crashed into the ground at your feet as you staggered into a tree. The bark scraped painfully across your bare shoulder blades, and Mando groaned as you almost lost your grip on him.

“No,” you growled, tightening your arm around the bounty hunter and tugging you both upright. “Dank… farrik!”

The muscles in your arm burned hotly from the strain of keeping the Mandalorian on his feet, and you bit through your tongue to keep from crying out, the metallic taste of blood coating your teeth and whetting your parched mouth.

You stumbled forward blindly as you tried to work through the pain, but all the sudden, the claustrophobic darkness caused by the towering trees lessened a few degrees. You thought you were hallucinating it at first, but then you lifted your head a fraction and realized the trees were thinning out ahead of you.

And the beacon in your cuff was beeping like mad.

You were almost there. The Razor Crest was so close.

Of course, that’s when the snarling behind you reached new frantic heights, and you knew the pack was gearing up for one final assault.

“Mando, listen to me,” you gasped as you shifted to shove him against a tree, using your palm to keep him rooted at the sternum and on his feet.

He groaned as he listed there, mumbling something that didn’t sound like it was in Basic, but he remained upright, so you seized the opportunity to jab at the screen on your wrist. A moment later, the child’s pod swooped down from where it had been hovering near the canopy, and the bounty’s head dragged against the jungle floor with a dull crunch. You tweaked the carrier’s settings half blind, one eye on the encroaching darkness and the beasts therein, and then you grabbed the floating orb and shoved it against Mando’s gut.

“Ugh,” the bounty hunter grunted, his feet starting to slide out from under him.

“No, lean forward,” you rushed out, grabbing one of his shoulders and tugging him toward you.

Mando moaned as he collapsed onto the child’s pod, but since you’d cranked up the carrier’s power output to the max, the bounty hunter didn’t crash to the ground. Instead, he hung there half suspended, the pod whirling angrily from his added weight, his feet limp and dragging behind him.

“Mando,” you said as you tapped the side of his helmet, eyes still on the shadowy trees. “Mando, I need you to hold onto that pod as tight as you can, okay? Can you hear me?”

“Hear… you,” the Mandalorian just barely breathed, and you saw his arms wrap around the bottom of the silver carrier.

“Hold on like your life depends on it,” you instructed as you tapped at your wrist again. “Because it does.”

“What—” he started to ask, but he didn’t get to finish the question because the pod was suddenly surging forward, in the direction of the ship. The bounty’s head and Mando’s feet dragged loudly against the ground, but with one last jolt of power, the pod lifted away from the jungle floor and began to float away.

The pod would probably have just enough power to get Mando back to the ship before it died, but that was fine. That was just what you needed.

The jungle dogs howled and shrieked as they watched the Mandalorian drifting away through the trees, but as you listened to them start to skirt around you in his direction, you finally gripped the rifle with two hands and aimed into the dark.

Then you pulled the trigger, full-auto, and the shrieking of the energy bolts collided with the screeching of the canines and crescendoed into a deafening cacophony. You sprayed the jungle in wide sweeps as you slowly started to walk backward toward the Razor Crest, the rifle stock jolting into your shoulder in time with your racing heart. You just needed to give Mando time to reach the ship. You had programmed the pod to open the ramp at a certain distance, so they would just fly on into the cargo bay, and it would close behind them. Once they were safe, you could make a break for it and—

Suddenly, one of the shadows broke away from the trunk directly to your right, and you turned too late to see it was a slavering beast, its bifurcated jaw wide open and aimed for your throat.

“Ahh!” You stumbled back, trying to crane away from those jagged black fangs, but your feet got tangled up beneath you, and you came crashing down. A root slammed into one of your rear ribs so hard you heard and felt the snap as the bone gave, but you didn’t even have time to register that pain before the jungle dog smashed into your chest.

You instinctively shoved your arms outward, wedging the rifle between those deadly, snapping jaws. One of the beast’s jagged fangs scraped down your forearm as you tried to keep the bastard from swallowing you whole, and you screamed in fury and pain as blood spilled from your rending flesh.

Then you brought your knee up and smashed it as hard as you could into the jungle dog’s ribcage, and this time you felt its rib snap, and grim satisfaction burned like a wildfire through your blood. The warmth filled your limbs until you thought you would burst into flame, and you kicked the beast again and again as it yipped.

You were just starting to think you had the upper hand when the creature’s jaw started to close with a creaking sound of bone on metal, and your eyes widened in horror as the canine jerked its head back, taking your rifle with it. Then its bifurcated jaw snapped close with a horrible crunch, and the rifle shattered into shards of metal and sparks.

The beast roared in pain and rage as it tossed the remains of your rifle aside, but now you were acting on pure survival instinct, not thought, not logic, and you were already wrenching two grenades and a vibroknife off your belt when the nightmare dog finally settled its four milky white eyes on your face.

“Eat this, you bastard,” you snarled as its terrible jaws, rowed with serrated teeth, descended on you.

Then with one hand you stabbed the vibroknife into its neck just above the shoulder, and with the other you activated the grenades and shoved both of them down the jungle dog’s throat.

Warm blood sprayed down on you like humid rainfall, and you twisted the blade in to the hilt, feeling as it tore through flesh in a jittery fashion. The creature gagged and gurgled as its throat muscles convulsed around your other wrist for just an instant, but then you yanked your arms back with all your might, teeth catching on your elbow again, before you crashed into the dirt.

You were scrambling up in the next instant, barely listening to the creature heaving and choking behind you as you staggered forward into a clumsy sprint.

The rest of the pack howled at your back, but you were flat out running now, and you could see the Razor Crest through the trees. The pounding of paws on dirt sounded at your heels, and you couldn’t tell if you were gasping for breath or sobbing as you tore the final grenades off your belt, activated them, and let them fall through your numb fingers.

In the next instant, you broke through the tree line, and you could see the ramp of the Razor Crest, closing. You slapped at your wrist blindly as you sprinted as fast as you could, lungs heaving to the point of seizures, legs at the point of collapse. You didn’t know if the dogs were still right behind you, but the grenades…

You must have finally hit the right command because the ramp suddenly shuddered before it started to lower again, and you were ten meters away when the grenades went off like dominoes falling.

The first two explosions—of the grenades you shoved into the jungle dog—only shook the ground hard enough to make you stumble forward, but then the rest of them detonated much closer, and the combined shockwave hit you moments later and catapulted you into the air.

Thankfully, the ramp was just low enough that you scraped over it and crashed into the ship, smashing into a bulkhead with a dull crunch. The howling shrieks of dying dogs reached you through the ringing in your ears, and you felt a wave of heat hit you as the grenades engulfed the jungle trees. You curled into a ball on the cargo bay floor, your back to the ramp, and you just barely had the presence of mind to tap at your wrist one last time. A moment later, you heard the whirling of the ramp closing, and when it clanked shut a moment later, you rolled over onto your back and stared blindly above you.

You could just barely hear the roar of the building wildfire outside the ship, and the screeching of the jungle dogs died down within seconds. Your entire body—your lungs, your heart—heaved up and down as adrenaline pulsed through you like a bad hit of spice, and your ears ached in the relative silence.

Then the child cooed, and Mando groaned weakly, and you jolted upright like you had just been struck by lightning.

“Mando,” you rasped, flipping over onto your raw hands and bruised knees.

The bounty hunter half-sat, half-sprawled on the floor at the foot of his bunk. The foundling’s pod lay askew on the ground in front of the fresher like it had crash landed there when it finally died, but the child stood unharmed beside the Mandalorian.

Who was currently bleeding out on the floor of the cargo bay.

“Kriff!” You scrambled forward when you saw the spreading stain of blood below his leg, and as you drew closer, you realized his tourniquet must have been loosened when he collapsed.        

The Mandalorian barely even seemed conscious at this point. His chest stirred only slightly beneath his beskar chest plate, and if it weren’t for the soft groans he was exhaling, you would have thought him dead.

“Mando!” you shouted as you shakily rose onto your feet and staggered the rest of the way to the fresher. Your hands were shaking as you tore one of the storage compartments open in search of a med kit, and your voice cracked when you said his name again. “Mando! Stay with me. We made it back. We’re on the ship. Just stay with me for a few more moments. Please.”

You crashed down onto your knees beside the bounty hunter, tearing the med kit open with bloody hands and broken nails. His helmeted head lolled onto the edge of the bunk behind him, and you could barely hear his raspy breaths through the modulator.

The child stood between Mando’s splayed boots, eyes large and frightened, but you couldn’t pay him any mind right now. Your frantic gaze darted between the bacta gel patch in your hand and Mando’s bleeding leg, and even though it felt crazy, you set the patch down for a moment and reached for the last vibroknife on your belt.

Suddenly, Mando jerked awake with a gasp, and you reached out without thinking, pressing your left palm over his heart and feeling his faint, fluttering pulse.

“Mando, I’m right here,” you murmured soothingly. “Keep breathing for me.”

The Mandalorian muttered your name as his head lolled toward you.

“Yes, that’s me, I’m here,” you said, rising up on your knees and leaning over him. The vibroknife glimmered in your hand, looking like a real-life glitch, but you shook off the unsettling feeling and fixed your eyes on Mando’s visor.

“Mesh’la,” the Mandalorian slurred. The word was soft and elongated to the point of sounding like gibberish, but his hand settled firmly on the wrist you still had pressed to his heart, like he was talking directly to you.

In any other situation, your own heart would be fluttering with a feeling you didn’t want to name, but as the bounty hunter’s blood started to soak into the knees of your pants, all you could feel was dread.

“I need you to stay still, okay?” you said as you dropped your hand from his chest to grip the top of his injured thigh. “I need to cut your pants away from the wound.”

“O… kay,” he muttered, and his hand fell to settle over yours again on his leg like he was grounding himself by touching you.

“Nice and easy,” you cooed, trying to blink the tears out of your eyes so you could see to cut through his pants and not his flesh. “I’ll have that bacta patch on in just a moment. Why don’t you talk to me, huh? Mando, talk to me. Tell me something. J-Just stay awake.”

“Aw…ake,” he whispered, but it sounded like he was just repeating you now, barely clinging to consciousness.

Your hand shook as you slowly sawed through the blood-soaked fabric, and an aborted sob rose in your throat. But you shoved your hysteria down, down, down, you had no time for it, you had to stay level-headed, steady-handed, Mando was counting on you, Mando was dying.

“Mando,” you choked as you finally pulled the cloth away from his wound. Three parallel gashes, each nearly five centimeters deep, ran from his hip crease and nearly all the way to his knee, and blood pulsed sluggishly from the wounds in crimson gobs. “Oh, Maker, Mando.”

You dropped the vibroknife with a loud clang as you lunged for the bacta patch, and out of your peripherals you could see the child waddling closer, standing in between the Mandalorian’s knees, the hem of his little robe slowly staining scarlet. You didn’t have the heart or the strength to shove the child away now, so instead you focused on settling the bacta patch over the bounty hunter’s grisly injuries.

Mando twitched and inhaled sharply as the bacta adhered to his skin, and you sent up a million prayers to the Maker that you had administered aid in time.

“There y-you go,” you sniffled, unable to stop the tears from coursing down your cheeks now. “I got the patch on, Mando. You’re going t-to be okay. You… you have to be okay. Do you hear me, Mando?”

You felt like a glitching holotape repeating his name over and over, but you couldn’t stop yourself. You wanted, no needed, him to stay awake, and every time you said his name, he seemed to jerk a little, like he’d been recalled from a long distance at the sound of your voice.

For a moment, there was only the faint, raspy wheeze of the Mandalorian’s breath through his helmet, but then he suddenly mumbled something.

“What?” You shuffled closer, slipping in blood. You practically had your ear pressed against his visor. “What was that, Mando? Say it again. Come on, talk to me, Mando.”

“Not… Mando.”

The words were stilted, sluggish, and you frowned in confusion. “Huh? I-I don’t understand.”

“My… name isn’t… Mando,” the bounty hunter struggled out, and his helmet tilted forward a fraction like he had lifted his head and was looking right at you. “It’s… Din. Din Djarin.”

The shock you felt was muted, distant and removed, like a crack that formed deep in the heart of a glacier, buried beneath the adrenaline, horror, and helplessness warring within you.

“Din,” you breathed, and the word somehow tasted like the exact moment Peli dug out your transmitter chip. It tasted like freedom, like infinite possibility, and you didn’t understand why.

Mando—no, Din, Din Djarin—exhaled heavily as his head thunked back against the bunk, and even if you couldn’t see it, you could tell his eyes were slipping closed. “I… wanted at least someone to know before I—”

“No,” you cut him off vehemently, reaching out to cradle the sides of his helmet like you were cupping his face. “No, you’re not going to die. Not now. Not when… no, do you hear me, Din Djarin? I will not allow you to die. Not when I worked my ass off to fix this ship and drag you back onto it by the skin of my kriffing teeth.”

“Mmmm.” Din’s head lolled in your grasp, the weight of him growing heavier and heavier. “I knew I would like the way… you say my name.”

Oh, Maker. He was nonsensical now, and terror gripped you by the throat and squeezed.

“Then stay awake, Din,” you begged, and your heart felt like it was on the edge of a great precipice. “Stay awake for me.”

“’m so… tired,” he sighed.

“I know,” you breathed as you guided his head back to rest against the bunk, and you couldn’t speak above a whisper because your voice was thick with tears. “I know, but just listen to my voice, Din. Just—”

You trailed off as the child suddenly waddled into your line of sight, and you dropped your gaze slightly to find him standing between the Mandalorian’s thighs, right next to the bacta covered wounds. The foundling stared up at the bounty hunter with a furrowed, seemingly determined expression, and then he closed his big brown eyes as he reached for Din’s leg.

“Oh, buddy, don’t,” you started, reaching out to stop him, but Din—Maker, his name felt delicious and forbidden even in your mind—weakly placed his hand on your wrist to stop you.

“It’s… okay,” he panted. “He can help.”

“Help?” You frowned down at the child. How could he help? Was this one of the “powers” the bounty hunter had vaguely mentioned before? You thought the foundling’s ability dealt with physically moving things, not healing, but honestly you could do for a miracle right about now.

The child gurgled a small noise as his three fingers settled over Din’s wound, and the Mandalorian inhaled sharply at the same time that you felt… something. You weren’t sure what it was, but it was like the very air shifted, became magnetic, charged somehow. The air stilled in your lungs as you feared even the barest breath would fracture this fragile spell you were bearing witness to, and you watched with wide eyes as the gashes on the bounty hunter’s legs began to close right in front of you.

Bacta worked fast… but not that fast.

Several still, endless seconds passed as the foundling healed the Mandalorian, but then just as soon as it began, the moment ended. The atmosphere snapped almost tangibly, time jolted back into motion, and the child suddenly started to pitch backward.

“Oh!” you gasped as you lunged forward, your hands cupping the baby and bringing him close to your body. The foundling’s eyes were closed, his face slack, but his little chest still moved up and down with breath.

“He’s okay.”

You snapped your head up, more tears spilling down your cheeks with the motion.

Din was sitting up a little straighter, and his helmet looked squarely at you. His voice sounded stronger, too, and you gaped at him in bewilderment.

“He’s okay,” the Mandalorian repeated when you continued to blink at him. “He usually… tires himself out when he uses his powers.”

“I d-didn’t know he could do that,” you breathed, and your tongue felt like a disembodied lump of flesh in your mouth. “I… wait, how do you feel? A-Are you okay?”

You suddenly realized how close you still were to the bounty hunter, practically kneeling in his lap, but you ignored this as your eyes darted back to his leg. It was a little hard to tell through the dried blood and blue bacta, but it looked like the three gashes had closed altogether, leaving behind faint pink lines.

“I’ll survive,” the bounty hunter sighed, thunking his head back against the bunk again, but he tilted it to the side to regard you still. “Thanks to you.”

“I-I’m not the one who just healed you with magic,” you stuttered incredulously as your cheeks flared hot, and you cuddled the child against your chest even though you realized you knew almost nothing about the apparently powerful foundling.

“No,” Mando said evenly, “but you did charge out into a dark, unknown, dangerous jungle, fight off a pack of wild dogs, and drag both me and the bounty back safely.”

“Well,” you snorted with an edge of hysteria in your voice, and you gestured to the discarded head that lay sprawled against the corner of the fresher. “I don’t know if I’d say he got here safely.”

Maker, you felt a little crazy, hollowed out and wrung dry by the sheer amount of emotions you’d just experienced in a span of a few minutes.

“I’m serious,” the Mandalorian replied. “You… saved my life. I am in your debt.”

“I-I’m not one for debts.” You shook your head to try and clear it, dropping your gaze to the foundling’s face, nuzzled against your sternum. “I don’t like to owe anyone or be owed. You’ve stuck your neck out for me before, so let’s just call it even… Din.”

You saw the bounty hunter freeze out of the corner of your eye, and you bit your cheek until you tasted blood.

You should have known that was too much to ask for.

“Sorry,” you muttered, peeking up at the Mandalorian through your lashes. “You… mentioned your name when you were—”

“I remember,” Mando said, cutting you off, but you couldn’t tell what he was thinking, his expression hidden as always and his voice pitched in a way you didn’t recognize, couldn’t identify.

“Right.” You cleared your throat, feeling the adrenaline starting to drain out of you and be replaced by every ache and pain you had ignored in lieu of survival. “Of course, I can just forget about it. You weren’t exactly in your right mind, after all. I’ll just… using ‘Mando’ is fine for me.”

The Mandalorian’s visor stared you down unflinchingly for what felt like an eternity. Then…

“You can… use my name, if you like,” he said haltingly, then quickly amended himself. “But only when we’re alone, on the ship. I… my name could be a dangerous thing in the hands of my enemies.”

You blinked in shock at the bounty hunter.

“A-Are you sure?” you asked, and you tried to keep the hope out of your voice, but you knew you failed miserably. “O-Only if you’re sure. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

You’d thought giving up his name had just been a delusional, dying declaration, and you didn’t want him to regret it. What you said had been true enough. You were fine using “Mando,” even if the traitorous feelings buried deep in your chest said otherwise.

“I’m sure.” The bounty hunter nodded minutely. “I… trust you.”

The admission flooded your whole body with warmth, and goosebumps broke out across your skin. You’d known the Mandalorian trusted you, he wouldn’t have left his ship or his foundling in your care otherwise, but hearing him say the words felt like something out of a dream.

“Okay, then.” You smiled, heart thudding against where the child was pressed into your chest. “Din.”

At the sound of his name, the tension in the Mandalorian’s worn body seemed to bleed out of him entirely, and he sighed as his helmet fell back again.

“Let’s get off this Maker-forsaken planet,” he grumbled.

“I second that,” you chuckled dryly before you slowly clambered to your feet, careful not to slip in Din’s tacky blood or jostle the sleeping baby in your arms. You very gingerly leaned over the prone Mandalorian to set the foundling in his hammock, but you hissed when the movement jarred the bruised or fractured rib in your back.

“What’s wrong?” Din asked below you, and he was so close you could feel the rumble of his modulated voice against the bare skin of your stomach, your tank top having lifted up a fraction.

“Nothing.” You took a quick step backward, trying to put distance between you and the bounty hunter, but now that he was no longer actively dying, you were starting to realize you were a little more beat up then you’d previously thought.

The moment you stepped back on your right leg, your hamstring seized up, and when you went to grab at it, you realized your fingers were a little numb. You glanced down and saw fresh blood dripping down your forearm—your blood, not Mando’s—and the sight of the wound seemed to flip a switch in your brain because a moment later, pain crashed over you like a wave.

“Dank farrik,” Mando cursed lowly as he tried to shove himself up.

“No, no, no, no,” you babbled, holding out your less injured left hand in a gesture to stop him. “Don’t get up so fast.”

“You’re hurt,” he grunted, and you could practically hear the scowl in his voice as he tilted his helmet back to stare at you. “You’re bleeding.”

“I’m fine,” you stressed, even though you could still taste blood on the back of your tongue. “Also, you seriously have no room to talk. You were literally just bleeding out less than five minutes ago.”

“How much bacta do we have left?” he asked, completely ignoring your statement. “We should take care of your injuries before they get any worse.”

“Maker, you’re not even listening to me, are you?” You rolled your eyes as you leaned your shoulder against the bulkhead, but when the Mandalorian started to get up again, you held your hand out once more. “Alright! Alright. Let me at least set the coordinates to meet up with the client and get the ship in the air. I’m pretty sure the jungle is burning down around us as we speak anyway, so the sooner we lift off, the better.”

Din stared up at you silently for a moment like he wanted to argue.

“It will take me two minutes, max,” you reasoned with him. “I won’t pass out or die in that time frame, okay?”

“Fine,” he finally sighed and dropped his chin to his chest. “Just… be careful climbing up there.”

“I’ll try my best,” you snorted, wincing when pain flared through your body, but you still slowly made your way to the ladder.

It took you way longer to climb five rungs than it should have, but you thought not falling back into the cargo bay was a feat in itself, given how every muscle in your arms and legs twitched in pain. The blood pouring down your arm also did nothing to help your grip, nor did your scraped up palms, but you still made it into the cockpit relatively unscathed.

Dawn was just breaking beyond the windows, but you could barely see it through the black smoke that hung thick in the air. Guilt sat heavy in your chest as you saw the charred trees and the birds fleeing the flames overhead, but you told yourself you did what you had to in order to survive.

And it wasn’t like you were walking away scot-free, either. Your arm pounded painfully in time with your slowing pulse, and every time you took a deep breath, you became a little surer that the rib in your back was, in fact, broken.

You punched in the client’s rendezvous coordinates without sitting in the pilot’s chair since you knew if you sat down now there was no way you were getting back up. While you waited for the Razor Crest to power up, you cringed at the blood you were dripping all over the floor, but there was nothing for it at this point. The whole ship would need a thorough scrub down the next time you made a pit stop, but that was a future-you problem. Right now, you were mainly focused on getting off this planetoid and out into orbit without crashing and burning.

You held your breath as the pre-Empire ship rose up above the now smoldering jungle, but no warning alarms or messages sounded. The Razor Crest glided steadily upward, and you leaned heavily on the control panel as you breeched first the clouds and then the atmosphere. Entering orbit rattled the ship and you more than you cared for, but nothing broke off or burst into flame, and before you knew it, you were drifting through the familiar black void of space.

“Thank the kriffing Maker,” you sighed as the autopilot took over, and then you turned and shuffled back to the ladder, exhaustion starting to make the edges of your vision go fuzzy.

Or maybe that was blood loss?

You were a little less graceful with the descent than you were with the ascent, but you at least landed on your feet before you nearly collapsed into the fresher.

“Careful,” Mando’s modulated voice murmured, and suddenly his bare hand was on your left, uninjured elbow, skin against warm skin.

“What are… you doing up?” You frowned as you studied the Mandalorian, trying to make sense of what you were seeing as he led you to sit in the open mouth of his bunk.

“I told you,” he said, reaching over and grabbing another med kit from the fresher. “We need to take care of your injuries before they get any worse.”

“You should be resting,” you grumbled, but you were too tired to put any real heat behind your voice.

“I’m fine,” Din parroted your earlier proclamation back at you. “The kid did a thorough job.”

Then the bounty hunter sat on a crate before you, a crate that hadn’t been there before, and you realized he was no longer wearing a majority of his beskar, save the ever-present helmet, of course. Instead, a faded but clean pair of duraweave clothes covered his body, and the bloodied outfit you’d basically sliced off him was piled up between his feet. It also looked like he had haphazardly tried to mop up some of his blood with the dirty clothes, and you wondered if you’d been up in the cockpit longer than you thought.

“Hey,” you chuckled suddenly, and you distantly noted that your voice was a little slurred with exhaustion. “Looks like I’ll have some new rags after all.”

You giggled a little loopily as you gestured to the Mandalorian’s blood-soaked clothes and then to the blood and dirt your outfit was also currently coated in, but Mando didn’t seem as amused as you were.

“Let me see your arm,” he said as his helmet stared at you impassively, but then he paused and added, “Please.”

“It’s really not that bad,” you tried to argue as you held out your injured limb, but since it was still actively dripping blood, your words didn’t carry much weight. Then the bounty hunter gingerly gripped your wrist with tentative fingers, and you hissed through your teeth as pain lanced up your arm.

“Osik,” Din cursed in a language you didn’t recognize, slowly rotating your arm to take in the extent of the damage. “Did one of those dogs get you? The bastard almost flayed you to the bone in some spots.”

“Yeah, well I shoved two grenades down his throat, so I think we’re even,” you gritted out.

Din froze and lifted his head, your blood, sweat, and dirt-streaked face reflecting back at you from his visor. “You what?” 

He must have really been on death’s door if he didn’t notice or remember you literally blowing the jungle dogs to Tatooine and back, but you just shook your head.

“Story time later,” you huffed, narrowing your eyes as you tried to breathe through the pain. “Bacta time now, please.”

“Right.” Mando jerked back into action, and in the next moment he was shifting into medic-droid mode.

Few words were shared between you two as the Mandalorian tended to your bumps and scrapes. Beside the deep lacerations on your forearm, your palms and knees were scraped bloody from tripping your way through a dangerous jungle in the dead of night. Your upper back was in the same condition since you’d been wearing a tank top when you decided to grapple with blood-thirsty hounds, and when Din accidentally brushed against your lower back, a small whimper squeezed out between your clenched teeth.

“This rib is probably broken,” the bounty hunter said, and there was a heavy quality to his quiet voice.

“Thought as much,” you grunted, trying to sit up straight without breathing too deeply. “Too bad we don’t have a full bacta tank to soak in.”

“I could always… drop you back off on Tatooine,” Mando muttered. “With the payment that I owe you, of course. Should be enough to pay for a full treatment and then some.”

You froze sitting there in the doorway of his bunk. The Mandalorian wasn’t looking at you, too busy double checking the bandage he’d wrapped over the bacta on your forearm, but you could see how rigid his body was as he awaited your answer.

“Do you… want to drop me back off on Tatooine?” you asked hesitantly, the breath shallow in your lungs. You could hear the child snoring softly in the hammock directly behind your head, and the thought of leaving him opened a dark pit inside you.

And that was nothing to say of the thought of leaving the Mandalorian. Of leaving… Din.

Now that you knew his name, the feelings you had done your best to ignore came surging up to the surface, that little voice whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

He told you his name. He trusts you. He wants you here. Maybe he wants you for more than just your skills.

You shoved the thoughts away as quickly as they cropped up, but that didn’t stop something small and fragile from unfurling in your chest. You almost wanted to call it hope.

“I—” Mando started, stopped, fidgeted on his crate, and then sighed as he scooted back a little to stretch out his injured leg. “No, I don’t want to do that. You’re a talented mechanic and… good company. I’ve… enjoyed having you on my crew.”

“Oh.” You blushed as the breath whooshed out of your lungs, leaving you feeling lightheaded and buoyant. “T-Thank you. Current circumstances notwithstanding, I’ve enjoyed being on your crew, too. A-And not just for the payment. Seeing new worlds, as dangerous as they are, was something I never thought I’d get to experience. So, even if the price to pay is a few bumps and scrapes, I think that’s a fair deal.”

“You have a skewed idea of ‘fair,’” the Mandalorian chuckled dryly as he reached down beside him, picked up a pair of his gloves, and slipped them back on.

“No kriff,” you snorted, the scar on the nape of your neck tingling. “But it works out in your favor, so I wouldn’t question it too much.”

“Fine.” Din held up his hands, but then he lowered them to his knees and cocked his head at you.

“What?” you asked when he didn’t say anything for a full minute. His gaze made your skin prickle even if you couldn’t see his eyes, and with each passing moment, you grew acutely more and more aware of how dirty and disheveled you looked and felt.

“Nothing,” he said, fingers flexing against his knees. “Just… thank you. Again. For saving me, the kid, the bounty, and the ship.” 

You fidgeted in discomfort. You didn’t know what to do with praise and compliments, having never really received them before, so you shrugged your shoulders as you picked at the bandage on your arm.

“I told you, we’re even,” you muttered.

“It doesn’t feel that way to me,” he argued, and something about his tone told you he wasn’t going to let this go. “So, how about this: after we drop off this bounty with the client, you can pick the next planet we stop on.”

“Really?” Your eyes flicked up to the bounty hunter and widened. He’d never let you pick a destination before. You’d always just been along for the ride.

Mando nodded. “And make a list of parts and stuff you need to keep the ship running. We’ll stock up wherever we stop off next.”

“Okay.” You grinned as your heart did a little jig in your chest, and you stuck out your bacta-wrapped hand to shake on it. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Din Djarin.”

His name rolled off your tongue like a grain of sand spiraling down a dune, picking up momentum as it went, and it sent a shiver of pleasure straight down your spine. You knew you were playing a losing game with your own heart here, but as you stared into Mando’s visor, you also knew there was no stopping yourself now. You would just have to deal with the future heartbreak.  

The Mandalorian tentatively reached out and grasped your fingers in his gloved ones.

“Deal,” he rumbled back.

“Good.” You nodded as a yawn cracked open your jaw, and you reached up to cover your gaping mouth and scratch your nose. “Now, given the client’s rendezvous coordinates, we should have a few days of rest before we reach our destination, and if you don’t mind, I think I’m going to start right now by taking a well-deserved nap.”

You made to stand up, but Din gently placed his hand on your shoulder to keep you seated on the edge of the bunk.

“Take the cot,” he said as he nodded behind you. “I’m going up to the cockpit to send a message to the client anyway.”

“Are you sure?” you murmured around another yawn.

“I’m sure,” he said, but then his gloved fingers were suddenly ghosting over the bridge of your nose. “By the way, you’ve got a little grease right here. Just thought you should know.”

You went cross-eyed as you tried to draw his finger into focus, but when he stepped back, you noticed the fingertips of his glove were shiny, and glancing down at the hand you used to shake his revealed that your palm bore the same black sheen.

“Hey, this is your grease,” you muttered indignantly, but then Din was pressing gently on your shoulder, guiding you to lay back on the cot, and you went willingly.

“Get some rest,” he said, turning off the bunk lights. “We’ll worry about cleaning up later.”

You tried to grumble something, but exhaustion was starting to tug at your limbs and eyelids, and your body unwound bit by bit as you buried your face in the bounty hunter’s pillow with no remorse.

A moment later, Mando’s boots were clomping up the ladder to the cockpit, but he left some of the cargo bay lights on and the door to the bunk open, like he somehow knew you were afraid of the dark.

The beginnings of a smile tugged at your lips, but you spiraled into sleep before you could fully process the thought.

[boomerang109]

hi boom!!! ilyy and i hope you take care of yourself <33 today’s there is question and if you’re uncomfy with answering, no pressure!! ooh actually do you like musicals? if so when did you start liking them//what’s your first and what’s your favorite? i started liking musicals in the seventh grade, hamilton was my first!! read recommended by a friend whos a year older than me hahaha annd my favorite musical would have to be hadestown but!! ordinary days comes to a Very close second!! 💜💜💜💜🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂

hi bee!!! don’t pay attention to the fact im answering things out of order, ahaha!

actually i don’t like musicals that’s why i wrote an atla fanfic about the gaang in a musical and referenced several other musicals /s.

i started liking musicals at 7 years old. that’s when i first performed in one (101 Dalmatians; without the cruella deville redemption cause we had brain cells in 2009) and also cause around that age was when i saw my first broadway show (yes im privledged but also it’s not *as* hard to go to broadway shows when you already live in ny cause seats far away can be semi-reasonably priced) which was the little mermaid.

my favorite musical is definitely definitely hadestown as well. i mean i wrote a fic surrounding it. but literally the emotions? i just cannot express how the songs get me every single time. i think the whole soundtrack made it into my top 100 songs. i was in the top 0.01% of anaïs mitchell listeners 😳

but some of my followers might remember when i was a phantom blog, so i guess i gotta give phantom of the opera a shoutout? first musical i ever wrote fanfic for. luckily never posted anything, although i have dozens (hundreds?) of pages, including handwritten shit. and wicked was the first musical i was ever truly in a fandom for

also i read the plot summary for ordinary days (looks very interesting!) and spotify has played the song “fine” for me before and i like it! so i bet i would like more of it too lol

hope you had a good day 💜💜💜💜💜💜💜🫂🫂🫂💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

[melida-daan]

ENL Writer’s Commentary: Chapter 3

He might not have visited Naboo until a decade later, but he could see very little would change in that time. After landing in a diplomatic hanger he was brought before Queen Ekay, a monarch he knew only from vague stories Padme had once told.

She was older than Padme had been, at eighteen she was one of the older monarchs of recent years, though already starting on her second term. Her age didn't stop her, or any of the Naboo, from treating Obi-Wan and his people like fully realized individuals.

We have books from Padme’s POV and obviously The Phantom Menace was very much about Naboo, but we know only vague things about most of the monarchs before Padme. Queen Ekay (the only name we have for her) would have ruled a little before this time (taking our Veruna’s ridiculously long rule) but that’s about all we know, so I bullshitted her age and term as Queen (as I will do with a lot of the future Naboo monarchs). I thought having her be an established Queen would make it easier for her to help out Melida-Daan and, also, having her be a little older but still treating them with respect would comfort the Young.

....

Nena, an expert at eavesdropping, found the reactions to him hilarious. “They’re all caught up in romantic ideals, they think you’re some sort of hero from their old stories,” she huffed at him in the mornings, when they all took breakfast in the suite he’d been given. “The never-tiring boy who sacrificed everything and more for a cause.” 

Nena is a canon character, she was one of the leaders of the Young. She was somewhat at odds with Nield in the books because she wanted to focus on rebuilding infrastructure while he wanted to focus on tearing down reminders of the past. She seemed like a good choice for this sort of role, considering they’re going to Naboo for aid.

“That’s a good thing,” Kima stated, from where she was trying to get Joli’s clothing in order. “I saw it enough during the wars, making people larger than life has value.” She was old enough to have fought in the few wars, to have lost a daughter to a bombing and just...given up until the Young won and gave her something like hope. “But you’ll also have to be careful, Obi-Wan, you can lose their regard quicker than you gain it.” 

Kima, meanwhile, is an OC (almost all the older Melida-Daan character are, I forget if I mentioned that already, but we weren’t given a lot to work with). Obi-Wan understands the value of ages and perceived ages (he was the dude who grew a magnificent beard to hide his own baby face after all lol) and having Middle Generation members in the government makes things easier.

....

While he, and his companions, would prefer to spend everyday and all day on their planning, the Naboo insisted on breaks. They toured the countryside, spent an afternoon at a beautiful lakeside beach, and frequented the streets of Theed. Other children, especially those in the Legislative Youth Program, were encouraged to interact with them.

One of them was even a Naberrie, a cousin to baby Padme. Obi-Wan spent more time than he should have in his presence, creating a connection that would hopefully include messages over the next few years so that he could keep track of the future Queen. The others, taking his lead once he mentioned how much they could learn, went out of their ways to try to befriend the children.

The Legislative Youth Program is one of the ways that children are trained for political positions. Padme went through it, too. The cousin is just a random OC, in most fics Padme is given a decent sized family and them being at least adjacent to politics is common, too.

One thing I’m trying to accomplish is to never have just one connection or change (or hint of a connection/change) made in a chapter. Sometimes it’s more obvious than others and I’m not sure I always do a good job at it. But here I wanted to make it very obvious that they’d be influencing future Naboo politics and in particular Obi-Wan would be taking an interest in Padme (as she was not just Luke and Leia’s mother and kind of Obi-Wan’s sister-in-law, but also a dear friend of his).

....

“Ambassador,” Ekay laid her hand on his shoulder, looking down at him, but never looking down at any of them. “You ask so little of those of us that have so much. What we will give may be charity, but that does not make you a beggar. Push for more and I will see it granted.”

At this point I was still trying to decide what titles to give the rulers of Melida-Daan, so “Ambassador” worked out for this as a stand-in since that’s the role Obi-Wan was filling.

Ekay would be very politically minded and, even more to the point, know how to deal with stubborn, politically minded children, so she would know how to word things to make it easier on those around her.

[ruffiorocks]

Supergirl season 5 episode 7

Ok, this one hit me right in the feels! How very dare they do this and tug at my heart strings!

First off Lena just sat casually waiting for Levaithan to come, she really doesn't care about herself much anymore does she?

Hmmm.... is a it just me or is Hope being way more concerned than an AI should be? I have an inkling Eve is manifesting her way through. Hope sounded way to anxious and human when asking Lena not to provoke Levaithan and the dangers of them.

What the heck was that presentation even about?

Ok NO Kara and Jonn! Malefic was a child who was locked up foe beinf different by his own father, banished to what is essentially Hell, abandoned by his brother, who then decided it was a fab idea to erase his very existence from everyone including himself! Malefic didn't deserve to be once again banished to the phantom zone regardless of what he did. 'To dangerous to be kept contained on Earth?' So let's send him back to hell? Yeah Kara and Jonn can f**k off with that.

Finally! A bit more about Levaithan and creepy granny being told off! "She is a Luthor' even Levaithan lackies recognise Lena's talents!

Ok, so Levaithan has been around since the dinosaurs, from what I gather they try to 'fix humanity every now and then. Is this different to Lena's plan to stop humans harming eachother? Or Myriad and Astra, or even the DEO and Kara taking it upon themselves to deal threats? Kara does take on a lot authority and makes decisions on behalf of Earth, usually without consulting Earth. Seems to me everyone has their own ideas on how to 'fix' or 'deal' with potential issues, they just don't go about it the same way.

🤣 snowflake generation "does that mean they melt?" Yes Rama Khan that's pretty much EXACTLY what it means, one wrong word and they melt into a puddle crying 'offended'.

So I'm thinking Blondie is going to team up with Lena since they seem to have the same idea, they don't want brute force.

That trial of Lena's and her being saved happened far to quickly. Also NO WAY did Kara get there that fast!

Aww Brainy! 'Earth Benders' 🤣

Aww I miss Brainy and Lena together.

Sooo.... Supergirl just debunked Christianity and Noahs arc 😅 subtle lol

Why is Kara shocked that someone could be thousands if years old? I mean unless someone kills her SHE is going to be thousands of years old.

Lena is being so OBVIOUS right now I feel like slapping Kara because 'for God's sake Kara!! Lena isn't OK and that is not how she usually acts! Yes i know the dynamic has changed before you all yell at me, BUT there's a difference between not being OK and blatantly lying! Katie is so obvious 😅 it's like watching Morganas evil smirk everytime someone turns away from her.

I said it the other day and I'll say it again! It's SICK that Superman and Supergirl keep dangerous world destroying weapons as trophies of their 'victories'. Those things should be destroyed!! 'We keep things there that can harm us' Because why would we destroy those things? Sure that won't come back and bite us in the ....Ohhhhh.

Why is Lena acting like she doesnt know what the fortress is? Lena YOU WERE THERE!! you stood there, yelling at your mother for shutting the portal and leaving Supergirl on the Daxamite ship! Ugh!

Lena's obviousness is obvious!

"A Luthor in the fortress of Solitude" 😂😂 Lena is trolling herself and Kara at the same time!

Oh... Jonn you remembered MURDERING Manchester Black? Glad you remembered!

Ok Myrnn is awesome! But also sucks for how he treated Mal!

Why is Jonn, or Kara etc forgiven for all things by the audience and the characters? What Jonn did to Mal was horrific, his murder of Manchester was horrific but he gets to have a chat with dad and all is forgiven!

Finally!! An explosion actually caused some issues!

Hahaha even a concust Alex wakes up with perfect hair 😂

Yeah the CGI in this episode kinda sucks!

Lena is trolling Kara so much! And Kara is starting to remember the bullshit she did to Lena!! Oh...Yeah you're right, I was an awful ass who lied to you constantly and even made you freak out thinking I was dead while you had frantically tried to save my life and I was in zero danger. Oh..... That wasn't nice was it? I see it now!

Lena 'we are far beyond those boys and their sticks and stones, let's me and you go and grab the most dangerous weapons possible!' 🤝

Hahaha myrnn playing the pro noun game!

Nawww Kelly and Alex are cute.

Oh Lena's voice is cracking, she can barely hold it together. She is broken!

Kara had taken to long to realise or even remember all the crap she put Lena through, now Lena is making her realise it all and she is awkward as hell.

Oh come on! Lena sees tech she's only heard of before and instantly knows how to use it? This is almost as bad her knowing how to pilot the legion ship!

Ok Kara is an irresponsible dumb ass! Bestie or not WHY is she letting Lena use tech here? Even Alex or Brainy watches at the DEO when she's there, not out of mistrust but supervision!

I need Malefic to meet with Myrnn the way Jonn does!

This situation with Mal reminds me of when disabled kids were shut away and people acted like the didn't exist, you know? Rather than actually trying to DO something!

😂😂 Lex's 'many human hair wigs'

Ok, I'm going to say it again!! Why the F**KITY F**K does Kara STILL have Myriad?!! 'Oh if there's one thing I could destroy it would be that' then f**king destroy it Kara!! Launch it into a bloody volcano! Don't keep it!! This is how heart broken Luthors are able to steal stuff, because Kara Zor El, YOU and Kal El are DUMB ASSES!! no I will not take that back! This is stupid!! It's like the writers knew they were going to need Myriad again and thought 'let's just have Kara not destroy it, because I mean why would she have done that to something so dangerous and that she felt ashamed of her family for making and she made that abundantly clear in season one?' 😑😑

I love Brainy!!

So is blonde ladies tech perhaps actually Obsiden Tech?

I swear to RAO there was an ice sculpture arm chair in that fight!

Again, CGI of this episode is awful!

'I am the Earth! I was able to manipulate the fortress to throw it at you when i arrived, but now i can't?

Ok, did Kara just low key say 'OK boomer' by calling Rama Khan 'welcome to Krypton old man'?? 😅😅

Lena is bad ass!

Oh, here it comes! My heart is broken! Finally the ball.has dropped on Kara, sorry it's about freaking time!! Oh Kara STOP you DID use her, stop denying it now you're both last that!

Oh!! Take that haters! Kara just admitted she thought she killed Lex!!

Lena is so traumatised, she's not even looking at Kara when talking about holding the gun. She hasn't processed this at all, she is destroyed! She's saying all the things that Kara DID do to her, constantly telling her betrayal hurts her and Kara carried on.

Oh she's screaming! She can't hold it together anymore! She hasn't processed this at all. I don't think this is all hate for Kara, it's late for herself and what she did, and she needs someone to hate, a person to blame! She isn't holding it together anymore.

Yeah haters I'm sorry, but Kara did treat Lena like a villain more than once.

Did Lena even say Kara's name at a this episode? All I heard was Supergirl.

Kara is broken, Lena is broken. Kara did wrong to Lena and now Lena is doing wrong to Kara.

I'm sorry but Jonns sudden patching things up with Mal is a bit much for me. Glossed over!

But Mal and Jonn is paralleling Lena and Kara. One betrayed and broke the other, then the other turned the tables. If only Lena could look into Kara's mind. Seriously though, if Mal can get over what Jonn did which was HORRIFIC I have hope for our Lena!

Sooo... in conclusion, good episode, everything other than Kara and Lena felt quick and forced though. I'm glad they have Kara finally realising that a few words and tears doesn't fix your awful behaviour. Yes I know I'm harsh on Kara but it was Kara who did those horrible things to Lena under the guise of 'protecting her' and by her own words 'being selfish so she could keep her' Lena didn't deserve any of what happened and she just spelt it out to Kara.

I think Lena is truly broken, she couldn't keep it together at all.

I feel bad for both of them to be honest, Kara because she's going to be broken to and has lost Lena and Lena because she's broken and had lost Kara.

[lovemesomesurveys]

What Rhymes With “AY”? Warning: This survey has 114 questions

1. Do you enjoy listening to reggae music? I haven’t listened to much reggae music.

2. Have you ever rolled in hay before? No. I’m actually allergic.

3. Has anyone ever broken a promise they made? Of course. 

4. Last time you went to a café, what did you order? Coffee.

5. Have you ever been to a matinee performance before? No.

6. Would you like a chance to ride in Santa’s sleigh? Why or why not? Would it be like the one in The Santa Clause that had a hot chocolate and cookie dispenser? ha. Swap the hot chocolate with coffee, though.

7. Have you ever taken ballet lessons before? How about any other type of dance lessons? No. That was actually something I wished I could do when I was a kid and in high school. I thought the dance team was cool.

8. Do you own any sexy lingerie? Nope.

9. Have you ever caught a bouquet of flowers at a wedding before? Nope.

10. Do you know how to do the Whip/Nae Nae? I do, actually.

11. Have you ever played croquet before? Nope. 

12. Has a horse ever neighed at you before? No.

13. How much do you weigh? I’m not exactly sure, but I am definitely underweight. 

14. Do you ever wear a beret? No.

15. When’s the last time you’ve been to a buffet? Back in February. There was a breakfast buffet at Disneyland where you got to visit with various characters while you ate. It was cute.

16. Have you ever attended a cabaret? No.

17. Have you ever eaten at Swiss Chalet? No. Never even heard of it.

18. Do you know how to crochet? How about doing macrame? No.

19. Do you have a duvet on your bed? No.

20. What was the last thing that ricocheted off of a surface? My phone did.

21. What do you put on your ice cream sundaes? I’m good with just vanilla ice cream and strawberry syrup, but sometimes I’ll add chocolate syrup as well. Bananas and whip cream are also great additions. Wow, it’s been yearsss since I’ve had one but that sounds really good right now.

22. Have you ever woken up to the “Reveille” bugle wake-up call at summer camp? No. I’ve never been to summer camp.

23. What is your favorite entrée to order at your favorite restaurant? My favorite restaurant is Wingstop and I always get the garlic parm and lemon pepper boneless wings.

24. Is crème brulee your favorite dessert? I don’t like actual creme brulee, but I like the creme brulee latte at Starbucks that they offer in the winter.

25. Do you know anyone who wears a toupee? I don’t think so.

26. Have you ever made a soufflé before? Was it good? Nope. I like the spinach and artichoke breakfast souffle from Panera, though.

27. Do you prefer ice cream or sorbet? Ice cream.

28. Do you know anyone named Renee, Jay, Clay, or Ray? I know someone whose middle name is Renee if that counts, and I also know a Jay and a Ray.

29. Have you ever had café au lait? Yes.

30. Have you ever gone to a restaurant called “Chez ______”? No.

31. Hey, how’s it going? It’s almost 730AM I should be going to sleep. My medicine I took a bit ago is making me feel a little nauseous, too, cause I took it on an empty stomach. That wouldn’t have been a problem if I just went to bed, but nooo. :/

32. When’s the last time you wore a lei? It’s been several years.

33. Did you obey your parents when you were younger? Yes.

34. Who do you want to hunt down like prey? No one.

35. Have you ever had whey before? No.

36. What message would you like to convey to someone right now? Nothing at the moment.

37. Whose survey did you take last? I don’t know who made it.

38. Have you ever been to a bay before? Yes.

39. Do you have a bae? “Or nah.” Ha, old Vine reference. Anyway, no, I do not.

40. What’s your favorite day of the week? They’re all the same to me, really, since I’m not in school nor do I have a job.

41. Have you ever had to read “The Cay”? Nope. That title doesn’t ring a bell.

42. Are you feeling okay? I’m feeling tired, hot, and kind of nauseous. 

43. Do you know anyone who is gay? Yeah, a few people.

44. Do you like the acting of Tina Fey? Sure.

45. Have you ever listened to The Fray? Yes, I like a few of their songs.

46. Do you have any frayed clothing? No.

47. Do you prefer bluebirds or bluejays? Bluebirds.

48. Is May your favorite month? No. I only like saying, “It’s gonna be May” haha. You know, the NSYNC/Justin Timberlake meme.

49. May I ask you some more questions? Sure.

50. Have you ever voted “nay” to anything before? What? Yeah. I was a board member for a club in college and there were things we voted on. 

51. Have you ever wanted to make someone pay for something that they did? I’m not a revengeful person.

52. Do you ever just lay around all day? That’s all I pretty much do everyday. 

53. Are you a happy little frickin’ ray of sunshine? No. I’m a little black raincloud. 

54. Is there something that you would like to say to someone? “There are many things that I would like to say to you, but I don’t know howwww.” 

55. When’s the last time that you were so excited that you exclaimed (or at least thought) “yay!” ? I said that the other night when my brother said he was making his bomb spaghetti. haha.

56. Have you ever felt like you’ve lost your way? I’ve been feeling that way for the past few years.

57. Do you ever wish that people would just go away? lol I’ve felt that way in some situations.

58. Have you heard an animal bray before? What animal was it? Yeah, a donkey.

59. What’s the last thing that you made out of clay? Nothing.

60. Are you starting to go gray? I’ve found a few here and there. D: It was like the minute I turned 30 I found my first one, ha.

61. Are you feeling okay right now? No. I still feel how I felt earlier when you asked how it was goin’. :/

62. Do you pray? How often? Yes, but not nearly as much as I ought to. 

63. What’s the best play you’ve seen before? The Phantom of the Opera.

64. What did you like to play with when you were younger? I was obsessed Barbies, I could play for hours. I also liked playing house and school.

65. Do you know how to sashay? “Sashay away.”

66. Would you like to slay dragons? Nah. I wouldn’t want to mess with a dragon.

67. Have you gotten your pets spayed? All my dogs were fixed/spayed. My doggo was spayed before we could take her home from the adoption shelter.

68. Have you ever begged someone to stay with you? Not begged, but I didn’t want them to leave.

69. Has the room ever started to sway before? I hateeee that feeling. 

70. When’s the last time you ate a meal on a tray? Uhhh. I don’t recall.

71. Do you know how to do math arrays? You’re speaking math so no. 

72. Have you ever experienced a delay of any sort? Yeah.

73. Do you have any tooth decay? No.

74. When’s the last time you wrote an essay? What was it about? Back when I was still in school, so it’s been 5 years now since the last time. 

75. When’s the last time you competed in a relay race? I participated in a few wheelchair race events when I was a kid.

76. Have you ever wondered how you could ever repay someone? Yes. I wish I could spoil and take care of my mom one day for everything she has done and continues to do for me. She deserves so much.

77. What did you do today? So far just Tumblr, surveys, and listening to ASMR.

78. Would you ever take in a stray animal? We don’t really have room for another pet, but I’d want to help in some way. Once we had a stray dog wander in our backyard and we took care of him until we were able to find him a good home. We also once had a cat who often went into our backyard and she ended up having kittens, so we cared for them and found them all homes, including the mama.

79. What’s the last cleaning spray that you’ve used? Lysol disinfectant spray.

80. When’s the last time you splayed your fingers? I’ll do it right now. 

81. Has your airway ever been blocked before? Yes. Such a scary, traumatizing experience. It’s why I can’t take pills now at all unless I can crush them.

82. Has anyone ever led you astray? In some ways.

83. When it’s hot out, do you sleep with blankets anyways? Noooo. 

84. Have you ever felt betrayed? Yep. Not a nice feeling.

85. When’s the last time you listened to a DJ? My cousin’s quince a few years ago.

86. What’s the last unfortunate thing that happened, to your dismay? This pandemic.

87. When is payday? The 1st of the month (disability). 

88. Do good moments or bad moments replay through your mind more often? My mind likes to dwell on all the bad stuff instead. 

89. Do you prepay for anything? I typically like to pay all my bills at the same time each month instead of waiting until the day each of them are due.

90. Have you ever walked on a runway before? No.

91. Do you know a runaway? No.

92. Have you ever ridden the subway before? How about driven on the skyway? Nope.

93. Have you ever used an ashtray before? No.

94.How do you feel about public displays of affection? I don’t mind a little bit, like a quick kiss, hand holding, arms around each other, or a hug. 

95. Where would you like to go for a getaway? I wish I could rent a beach house and have my own private beach area.

96. Do you do any gateway drugs?  Some say weed is a gateway drug, but I personally never had any interest in try anything beyond that.

97. Have you ever felt like someone wasn’t meeting you halfway? Yes.

98. What were you doing at midday? I’ll be sleeping.

99. Have you ever stopped midway through a survey before?  Yeah, I did that with this one. I started it last night, but got too tired to finish it.

100. What’s your favorite holiday? Christmas.

101. Do you like to drive on the highway/thruway? I don’t drive, but yeah I prefer taking the highway over driving through town and hitting all the red lights.

102. Have you ever put something on layaway before? I haven’t, personally, but I’ve gone shopping with my mom and added stuff of my own along with her’s that she put on layaway.

103. Have you ever been cornered in an alleyway? No.

104. When is your birthday? July 28th. 

105. Do you know anyone who was a castaway? No.

106. How long is your workday? I don’t have a job.

107. What do you typically do on the weekdays? I do the same things everyday.

108. Is there a walkway or a pathway to your front door? Yeah.

109. What do you want to be someday? A functioning adult.

110. What is something that you do everyday? Drink coffee.

111. Do you park in your driveway? Do you even have a driveway? I don’t have a car, but yeah my house has a driveway that my parent’s use for their cars.

112. Have you ever won a giveaway? Yes.

113. How important is foreplay? I wouldn’t know.

114. Hooray! You’ve made it to the end! What are you going to do now? Eat my ramen. I was waiting for it to cool a bit.

[a-zebra-is-a-striped-horse]

[morelike-bi-light]

Bingo Fic: Rosalie and Emmett as Parents

So this blog reached 500 followers this week! When I started this blog, it never occurred to me that this would happen, or that I’d find such an awesome fan community and such incredible mutuals, but it did and I did, and it’s kind of changed my life! So much so, that I wanted to celebrate! Those blog bingo sheets have been making their rounds, so I made one for myself, and decided that if anybody filled it out, I’d gift them a 500 word fic (500 words for 500 followers, but that wasn’t planned lol) for a prompt of their choosing!

One of my fav mutuals @rosalie-stan was the first to reply, and thus, the first bingo fic is all for her, for the prompt in the title! Hope you don’t mind - I went a little over 500 words, and then added some headcanons, because I honestly loved your prompt way too much. Hope you like it!

❤️❤️❤️

It's a quiet summer afternoon for the first time in almost a decade. The air conditioner is whirring gently, even if Rosalie and Emmett can't feel it. It's not for their sake - Bree volunteered to take the kids out to a movie, but little Alicia was still too young for the theater.

Not that Emmett minds - in fact, he can't think of anywhere else he'd rather be, than plopped down on the couch with his exhausted baby in his arms, and his soulmate tucked against his shoulder as she fingers through a piece of historical fiction that Carlisle had called 'certainly' entertaining and 'passably' accurate.

"Aw. Blinky," he grins, cradling the baby’s curl-covered head closer to his chest as she gurgles sleepily. His brows furrow for a moment. "That is crazy. She's like a little mini Rose."

Rosalie glances up to shoot him a dry look before going back to her book.

"Why do you insist on doing this?"

"What, tell the truth?" He shrugs, carefully so as not to jostle either his daughter or wife. "It's not my fault you married an honest man."

"She's a baby."

"So?"

"So, she looks like a baby - which I'm not."

Emmett springs for the throat. "You're my baby."

Rosalie bites her lip, smothering a grin. She shouldn't reward his bad behavior.

“Don't be funny," she huffs, batting at him absently.

"Impossible," he declares with a smirk. "And you know how many little brothers and sisters I had. I'm a certifiable baby face expert. Trust me, she's almost as close to you as Donnie."

"I trust you more than anyone else in the world," she deadpans. "Doesn't mean you're right."

"But you haven't disagreed either," he points out. "Not that it matters. Whether you disagree or not, she still looks like you."

Rosalie turns on him, closing the book. "You say that about all our kids!"

Emmett shushes her, pressing a cheeky finger to his lips and nodding at the drowsy baby curled in the crook of his arm. Rosalie rolls her eyes - Lisa could sleep through a hurricane - but lowers her voice just a bit.

"A few months ago, you tried to convince me that Bree has my smile, and she's not even related to us."

"I didn't say that," he snorts. "I said you smile the same way."

She raises a perfect brow in disbelief. "And that's different?"

He's as unaffected as she is unimpressed. "Totally."

"Well, I'm not buying it."

"No, really," he drawls. "You both do that cute little thing where you clamp your mouth shut like you're trying to hold it in, but then something will make you laugh, and it'll stretch real wide and get all dimpley."

If she could flush, Rosalie thinks she'd be beet red. Emmett's eyes are crinkled, glimmering like stars. Home, they say, I'm home when I see you, when I see our kids. It should be impossible to say so much with a simple look. She has to duck her head, look at her book's cover instead. "Is that so?"

"Yeah, it's so," he murmurs softly, and sits up straight. "And I can prove it... 'cause you're doing it right now."

The dam breaks, and she can feel the truth of his words as a smile blossoms on her lips.

"You're ridiculous," she says.

"You love it." He's right again.

She shakes her head, sighing as she leans against his shoulder, looking over their fourth child carefully.

"You're wrong about this one though. If anyone, she looks like you - the little button nose, and those same curls like you and Beth." Her smile softens. "This one's all yours."

Emmett shakes his head right back. "She might have my hair, maybe my nose, too. Hard to say - but look."

Alicia's eyes flutter softly as she pries them open, a sweet, familiar blue. Her gaze wanders a moment then settles on her parents, before she babbles a short hello.

"Look at those baby blues. Those are yours, right?"

Rosalie stares for a moment. A phantom pain burns like ice in her throat, but just for a moment.

"Right." She swallows, but she doesn't try to hide her smile this time. "Right. Those are mine. I guess she's both of ours."

“Course, she is,” he hums. “They all are. Always will be.”

❤️❤️❤️

As I mentioned, in the process of writing this, I accidentally created a whole Rosalie-Emmett family, so paragraphs of headcanons for context galore under the read more! Otherwise, hope you enjoyed the fic and thanks for following!

So as you probably noticed, Bree is alive and well and a part of the family in this AU. She not only lives and is a Cullen, but Emmett and Rosalie have adopted and adore her just like their own. Thus, she’s the oldest kid in the Rose-Emmett fam. They've had her for about a quarter of a century during this fic. Eight years ago, Carlisle discovered that a vampire couple could genetically have a child by using a surrogate. After some discussion between Emmett, Rosalie, and Bree, the family decided to expand. Yay!

With this, the second eldest kid is Elizabeth Cadence 'Beth' Cullen, age seven. When she was a human, Rosalie had always pictured naming her first daughter Elizabeth, and her middle name comes from her father's favorite human sister whom he'd once promised a goddaughter. Seeing as he’s the only Cullen with a happy backstory, I like to think he’d want his kids to have ties to his human family, even if he’s outlived them by a century. Anyways, they call her Beth. She has black curls, big wide eyes, and an easy smile like her father, plus the small, straight nose and excellent bone structure of her mother.

Beth is a goofball who loves to get herself into either trouble or danger, though the latter of which is hard to come by with an extended family of vampires and werewolves at her back. However, she is also incredibly generous, whether with her toys, her time, or her patience. She has a quick temper, though, and goes cold when she's angry, like her mom. Her favorite activity is running with her family, especially when Bree picks her up and carries her on her back, but she's also fond of music, and is passionate about dance. Her favorite babysitter is either Aunt Alice or Uncle Jasper, both of whom coddle her immensely, and her role model is definitely Aunt Leah.

Their third child is Donovan Matthew Cullen, age three. He gets his first name from a baby book, but his middle name is that of Emmett's eldest human brother, who always looked after the rest of the Masen clan. He has soft, wavy dark blonde hair, doe eyes, and a full pout like his mother, but he shares Emmett's button nose. During the summer, his cheeks get freckly and the tips of his hair gets sun-bleached almost white. (He also needs glasses as he gets older.)

Baby Donnie, as his older sisters call him, is a serious little fellow, very polite and horribly gentle, who likes to read - which is why he gets on with his aunt Bella so well. However, he can get just as rowdy as his sister, though he is greatly less likely to get messy due to his thoughtful nature and sensitivity to criticism. He gets along perfectly with both Grandma Esme and Uncle Edward, who is dying to teach him the piano, but secretly his favorite is probably Uncle Seth, who always knows how to make him feel both good and normal.

Their youngest, and the topic of this ficlet, is Alicia Esme 'Lisa' Cullen, not yet one. Obviously, her first name is derived from Alice, and her middle from Esme. They chose a slightly different name for her first because as Rosalie puts it, she should always remember to be her own person, even as she learns from others. Emmett assures Bella she has dibs on the next daughter, but I think four is enough for them - and she tells him as much. From Emmett, Lisa inherited dark, wavy hair, a button nose, and a round babyface, but she has her mother's eyes and full, solemn mouth.

Lisa grows up to be a mellow kid, partially due to nature and partially because she's had to learn to adapt on the fly without breaking too much of a sweat. She has the best sense of humor in the family, and the sharpest wit, due to observational skills and an impeccable sense of timing honed by years of living with the boisterous extended family she has (which includes the Clearwaters as step aunt and uncle, and through them, the wolf pack.) Out of everyone, she is the most down-to-earth, but also has the hardest time initiating confrontation when she’s hurt or upset. She has a very special bond with Grandpa Carlisle, and she adores her Aunt Victoria (because why not combine all the AUs?).

Whew, that was a lot! I would not blame anyone who took one look at those blocks of text and ran the other direction. But I enjoyed writing them, so it’s all good! If you actually made it this far, I am very impressed, and flattered, and I love you and thank you with all my heart. Hope you had fun reading!

[mirkwoodshewolf]

We’re a chain that will never break; Queen x reader

*Author’s note*

Hate to have kept you all waiting for the next part but I wanted to make sure it was to the full FLUFF max after what I made you guys go through with the previous chapter. So I hope this chapter makes up for all the heartbreak I have caused in the previous one, I tried to fill it with as mich fluff and cuteness as I could, and I hope the ending is to ya’ll liking cause I felt like I didn’t end it very good with this chapter.

Anyways I’ve also included some gifs that I know you all will like and I would greatly appreciate it if you all would listen to the song I have linked to you in this chapter to help put you readers in the actual chapter, I promise it’ll be worth while and secretly it’s something that I could imagine our Disco Deacy dancing to with either his wife or to embarrass his kids lol. Okay enough chatting, hope you all enjoy this chapter lovies :) 

Taglist *open*

@onebigfangirlworld

@mr-badguymercury

@phantom-fangirl-stuff

@labessieisallama

@starswin

@naturalswifty89

@dj-lowkey

@5sos-wdw

@alexfayer

@isabella-bby

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The next morning I woke up to feel someone softly tucking some strands of my hair behind my ear.  When I opened up my wet, teary eyes instead of Brian sitting beside me, there stood Deacy.

“She lives.” He teased with a slight grin spreading across his face.  “How are you feeling?”

“Really hungry.” I bluntly stated.  It finally began to hit me just how hungry I was due to my stomach growling and knowing at me.  Deacy chuckled and said.

“Well lucky for you I’ve made some breakfast for you downstairs.”

“Are Brian and Roger still here?”

“No they stepped out for a bit.”

“Oh.” I said as I looked down.  I could feel Deacy’s eyes on me as I refused to look him in the eye.

“It’s not at all what you’re thinking if that’s why you’re so worried. In fact I was the one who told them to take a breather after what happened yesterday. Plus it’s been awhile since you and I had a little one on one time together. Roger’s always stealing you away from me.” That statement got a smile out of me and said.

“Yeah he does get a little obsessive.”

“A little, please instead of calling him your second father, we should just call him the ‘smother’.”

“Can’t argue with that.” I chuckled out.  Deacy wrapped his arm around my neck and brought me close to him and said as he playfully gave me a noogie.

“But now I’ve got you all to myself for a while.” I let out a squeak and shoved him away playfully and that’s when I finally took notice of my hands bandaged up.

I began to get worried that I might’ve severely damaged them from all the glass punching I did yesterday, and that they were all scarred up and that if Jack ever saw then he’d never want to put the official wedding ring on my finger with hands like these.

“They’re not that severe (y/n). The doctor only had to pull out four pieces out of your hand. We were given some ointment to put on your hands and within a week or two they’ll be good as new. You’re lucky you know how to throw a good punch, if you hadn’t then this could’ve been a lot worse.”

“I’m sorry you had to see me like that Deacy. I was just—”

“I know love, I know.” He said softly as he leaned his head against mine.  His arm now wrapped around my shoulder while his other hand came up and stroked down my head.  I felt him kiss my temple and he continued, “But we can wallow about this later, right now the most important thing is to get some food in that belly of yours.” He emphasized his last point by playfully poking me in the stomach making me curl up and giggle.  “Come on kid, let’s get you downstairs.”

He untucked me out from the blankets and helped me out of bed and escorted me down the stairs with his arm wrapped around my shoulders.  We walked into the kitchen and he pulled out a chair for me to sit in and I gladly sat in it while Deacy went over to the kitchen and picked up a tray and brought it over to me.

On the tray were some pancakes, bacon, scrambled eggs, and of course Deacy’s favorite cheese on toast and a tall glass of orange juice.  I thanked him for the breakfast and began eating the eggs first.

Bit by bit my breakfast began to diminish, but it wasn’t until I held onto a piece of the toast as I was eating the last couple of bites of my pancakes when Deacy cheekily leaned over and took a bite of the toast.

“Oi!” He grinned at me his shoulder shaking as he tried to hold in his laughter. “Great now it’s got your germs all over it!” I whined out and he said.

“Should’ve immediately ate it then and not held onto it for so long.” He said after swallowing the piece of toast.

“How Veronica puts up with you I’ll never know.”

“Don’t you bring my wife into this conversation. She loves me, I even wrote the song to prove it.” He praised.  I shook my head and handed him the toast and he gladly took it and finished it off.  

That crazy Deacy and his cheese on toast I swear.

I went and grabbed another piece of toast and as I bite into it Deacy suddenly spoke up.

“Brian told us why you were screaming yesterday.” I stopped midway from my chewing and sighed heavily through my nose.  I finished chewing before swallowing and took the last sip of my OJ and leaned against my chair.

“So you and Rog know about the dream I had?” I could see Deacy nodding softly from my peripheral vision.  “You know I actually had another one. But the second one was way worse than the first one. It started off like any other work day, just us at the studio making music. At first everything was going well and then you guys turned on me telling me that I had no taste in music, that I was worthless when it came to making music, telling me that Queen would be better off without me. I didn’t even wake up from it so I had to keep hearing you guys say it over and over again until my dream just vanished by morning.”

“Oh (y/n),”

“I don’t get why my brain is tormenting me like this? I mean I know in my heart that you, Rog and Bri would not do what Freddie did, but in my mind, with what I had to endure for the remaining years of my childhood into teenage years……God I just—”

“It’s not something one can get over so easily (y/n). We cannot imagine the verbal abuse you had to go through with Joanna and Graham. We’re not expecting you to just let it go just like that. And Freddie he—he was a bastard for saying those things, and it’s forcing you to relive that pain once more.” Deacy cupped my chin and turned my head around to face him, “It doesn’t matter how many times or how long it takes. We’re gonna make sure that you are as happy as any future bride should be, and the only stressing out you should be doing is figuring out what wedding dress you’re gonna pick out.”  I smiled at him and said as I hugged him.

“Aww Deacy, I love you.”

“I love you too. I’m always here for my little sister.” I felt him kiss the side of my head as he held onto me for a bit longer.  He then separated from me and stood up and held out both of his hands to me.  I looked at him confused and asked him.

“What?”

“Just take them love,” I placed my bandaged hands into his and he delicately gripped them as he helped me stand up and took me out of my kitchen and into my living room.  I took notice that some of the furniture had been pushed aside, all except for my record player that stood on a drawer right by the window.

“Deacy what is all this?”

“The one sure fire way to get that true (y/n) smile back on your face.” He said as he knelt down by my record collection and picked up a random record and placed it into the player.  He flipped the switch before taking the needle and placing it down on the record.

Play video

And with the volume turned up almost to it’s loudest setting, Kenny Loggins’ song “Footloose” began playing.  He swerved around grinning at me as his head bobbed up and down to the beat as his Disco moves began to take over.  I tried to fight back the smile and he grinned as he pointed at me.

“Ahh I see it! You can’t hide it now sweetheart, I see that smile.”

“Dick move Deacy. You know I can never stay depressed with this song.”

“I know, that’s why I picked it. Now come on poppet, let me see those moves I taught you.” He said as did the ‘come hither’ motion with his index finger.  A smile just spread across my face as I walked towards him and he took my hands and began to playfully move them like the motors of a train trying to get me to dance.

I just let out a series of giggles but just like the first time I ever heard this song, I just let the music control me as my body became possessed by the music and I freely danced.

Dancing like crazy people and bursting out the lyrics, Deacy and I spent the whole song dancing.  Doing some of his little dance moves he does on stage or mixing up some dance moves I made for the song like the foot twist.  That’s when you only move left to right by first moving your heels then the soles as you just scoot across the rug.

There was also spins, turns, playful dips, bunny hops, twists, anything that Deacy loved to do or that I loved to do when it came to dancing as we both just let the music take over us.  When the song came to an end, Deacy held my right hand in his left as I was striking a poise before being spun into his arms and when the music stopped I ended up with an arm wrapped around his neck as we ended in a slight dip.  After all that, Deacy and I just couldn’t stop laughing.

“Well Jack’s definitely got himself a good dance partner.”

“Guess I had a good teacher.” I said as he lifted me back up.

“Now what do you say? You up for round 2?” he asked me.

“What have you got in mind, Disco Deacy?”

“Now why must you insist on calling me that?” he said as he went back over to my record collection.

“Everyone calls you that, it fits you because of your dance moves that you do at your shows. Everyone also loves your moves, so don’t you dare try to get people to stop calling you that.” I said as I walked up to him and knelt down beside him and playfully nudged his shoulder.

The rest of the morning with Deacy was spent by dancing to “Disco” music, dancing with each other, singing to the songs very loudly and off key.

At around 20 till noon, Deacy and I were having a cup of tea when he said as he took something out of his pocket.

“Ohh I almost forgot,” I took the piece of paper from him and I unfolded it and it read as followed.

My lovely angel,

Today is all about you. The boys and I agreed that after yesterday’s events you deserved to see that we are your family. And we always will be. Deacy should’ve already taken care of the morning shift and now comes my turn (about bloody time).

Meet me at Hyde park at 12:30 on the dot. Dress casually, no need to get dolled up.  I’ll see you then.

Your papa lion,

Roger Taylor

I quickly looked at the clock and back at the note and I said.

“Damn it Deacy why wasn’t I given this earlier?”

“Must’ve slipped my mind.” He shrugged.  If this is what it’s like to truly have an older brother then I truly feel your pain if your brothers act like this to you.

Racing back up to my room, I changed out of my old clothes and got on some fresh ones. I cleaned myself up, did my hygiene stuff and raced down the stairs.  Deacy stood at the bottom of the stairs and I said to him.

“Hopefully I can still get there in time.”

“Even if you don’t it’ll maybe teach Roger a lesson in the future about being late.” Deacy sassed out.  I scoffed at him and shoved his arm making him chuckle.

“Thanks again for this morning Deacy, I really appreciate it.”

“Like I said, I’d do anything for my sister.” He said as he wrapped his arm around my shoulder bringing me close to him in a one armed hug and I felt him kiss the top of my head. “Okay I won’t keep you longer, go and meet up with Rog and have a good time, but be safe.”

“Don’t worry I’ll be sure to keep an eye on him.” I said as he released me.  I began walking towards the door but I stopped and said as I turned back around towards Deacy.  “Last hug.” I embraced him and I felt his chest softly rumble as he chuckled.  He wrapped both his arms around me leaning his head against mine.  I separated from him and said, “Love you Deaks.”

“Love you too poppet.” He cupped my cheek and kissed my forehead and I walked towards the front door. “And don’t worry I’ll move the furniture back.”

“You better.” I teased as I opened the door and waved bye to him and he waved back and soon I was out the door and on my bike.  I turned it on and revved it up and soon took off riding for Hyde Park.

I managed to get to Hyde Park just before the meetup time.  I parked my bike and put my helmet away into the compartment seat and walked into the park entrance.  As I walked along I soon saw Roger sitting down on a bench with his black shades over his eyes.  He looked down at his wristwatch probably wondering where I was.

Feeling a bit playful, I walked around towards the back of the bench where he was sitting at.  I tried to surpass my giggles as I silently stalked up towards him and stood there for a moment or two and just before I could scare him I heard him say.

“Don’t even think about it!” I groaned out and said.

“How’d you know it was me?”

“I know everything when it comes to my number 1 girl. I knew you’d try to do something like this given the chance.” He said as he turned towards me.  He lowered his shades and said, “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting for you young lady?”

“Well sorry Deacy didn’t give me the note till almost noon.” I said.

“Typical Deacy, of course he’d want to keep you longer than what was agreed.”

“Well I deserve to spend some quality time with my brother figure, besides he said the same thing about you.” Roger smirked playfully at me as he now stood up and came around me and wrapped an arm around me.

“Alright kiddo I’ve got lunch reservations for us in about 20 minutes, what say we both head on that way and then spend the rest of the afternoon getting lost in the mall. Maybe even pick up a yacht as a wedding present.”

“Where in the hell would we put a yacht?” I asked.

“Just by the decks, I know Jack would appreciate it.”

“I doubt that very much. He’s more of an ATV guy than anything.” We both soon walked through the park that would take us through a short cut to the restaurant that Roger said he had a table reservation for us.  All the while the two of us were just talking about anything and everything.

Once we came to the restaurant I noticed that it was one of my favorite seafood places. We walked up to the restaurant and we were escorted to our table booth in the corner.  I ordered up my usual homemade fried shrimp with a side of chips while Roger ordered up the “King crab special”.

“So have you and Jack picked out the groomsmen and bridesmaids yet?”

“Well don’t tell Deacy but Jack was sorta hoping he could be the best man.”

“Really?”

“Yep.” I popped the ‘p’. “As for my bridesmaids however I’m not having such luck. I mean I’ve asked Gen and Dani who are Jack’s cousins wives and they’ve agreed but I still don’t have enough to do the walk, I was maybe hoping that your wives could be a part of it.”

“I’ll run it by Dominique, I know she’d love to be in the wedding.”

“Thanks Rog, but I’ll tell her myself. I was planning on getting together with the wives of Queen either way to help me pick out a dress while I’m still here in London.” Pretty soon our food arrived and boy Roger definitely had his work cut out for him.

His crab was truly worthy of being called king.  It practically fit the entire plate length and width wise, there was also his side order of grilled shrimp and chips.

“Geez Rog you really have your work cut out for you there.”

“What you doubt I can eat all this?” he mocked.

“I mean don’t you old people have to pace yourselves?” I teased.  He then dipped his finger into some marinara sauce and bopped my nose playfully making me squeal out and stare at him in shock.

“You’re lucky we’ve got witnesses, otherwise you’d get your usual punishment.” Thank god we were indeed. I didn’t feel like being tickled to oblivion till I either passed out or surrendered. “And now you understand why I keep you away from Deacy. He turns you into a savage mini-him.”

“How do you know I haven’t always been like that?” I teased as I took a bite of one of my shrimp.  He shook his head chuckling softly and we proceeded to eat our lunch.

All throughout lunch there were jokes, playful banters and even a small mini drum war that I first started by taking his crab mallets and just did a random beat on the table.  Roger observed me before taking them right out of my hands and I cried out playfully.

“Oi!”

“Alright step aside kid and let a real drummer show you how it’s done.” He mocked then he began to perform his drum solo for “Keep yourself alive”.  I bopped my head along to the beats before taking my spoon and fork and holding them upside down and I began to drum along with Roger copying his movements, soon making the drum solo into a drum duet.

But when Roger tapped onto the back of his crab, bits of crab juice squirted out making me shriek and laugh as I wiped away two juice drops away from my face while Roger just laughed.

After lunch, Roger paid for our lunch and the two of us left the restaurant arms wrapped around each other and we walked back through the park.  Along the way though we came to a quiet little playground. There weren’t really any kids around so I asked Roger if we could just sit on the swings for a bit.  He agreed and the two of us went over to it and sat down side by side on the swing set just slowly rocking back and forth or swaying side to side.

“So even though our afternoon’s barely begun, how are you doing so far?”

“I’m doing good. My belly’s full, I’m with my favorite Queen member, and quietly sitting in the park on a swing set feeling like a child again. Swings were always my favorite thing to do in a park playground. My dad always used to push me on the swings trying to make me go higher and higher and then I’d jump right off to see how far I would go. Scared my mum to death but it made my dad proud.”

“I can see you doing that.” He said.  The two of us laughed softly and then I looked down at my feet which were gently kicking the mulch covering the playground.  

“Deacy told me that Brian told you guys about the nightmare I had last night.” I suddenly said out loud.  I heard him sigh and he said.

“We don’t have to talk about it if you—”

“No, I’ve already gotten my comfort from Brian and Deacy about it, and I need to hear it from you. Because—I thought from all that Freddie said the other day and hearing him say it again in my dreams was bad enough, but…..what truly hurt me was what nightmare you said.” I looked up at him sadly and he looked down at me and asked.

“What did the bastard version of me say to you?”

“You said…..that you never understood why you’d call me your daughter. That you’ve never been proud of me, and neither was my real dad. I felt—so betrayed and hurt at hearing you say those things I just…..” I sighed deeply and looked down at my lap.

“(Y/n), please look at me,” I turned back towards Roger.  His blue eyes piercing my soul as he spoke, “I won’t repeat what Deacy or Brian had said to you, because I know you’ve probably heard it one to many times already so you don’t need to hear it a third time. But the day I ever say that I’m not proud of you or that I regret seeing you as my daughter, is the day that I am shot dead where I stand. I made a promise to your father’s grave that I would be the father you needed, and when I make a promise like that, it’s never broken. I may come across as a bastard at times but never to you. Because no matter what you are always gonna be my number one, and I would never turn or be against you.”

“I know you wouldn’t.” I choked out. He smiled softly down at me and that’s when I felt his fingers graze mine and I soon felt his pinkie wrap around mine as a promise to the very end.  

Our hands soon faced each other’s until we gently gripped each other’s palms and I looked up at Roger and softly smiled and he smiled back.

“I’m sorry you had to see me…..”

“Let’s not worry about that now—”

“No Roger I have to say it. I may not have been awake to see you guys but I know it couldn’t have been easy for you to see me like that. Thinking that I was—dead or whatever. I shouldn’t have done that to you, it was selfish of me.”

“You were betrayed love. And angry, heartbroken, anyone would’ve punched out their posters like that or windows or even walls hell I know I’ve done that before. You deserved to release your betrayal in any way possible. But….I will admit I was petrified to see all that blood on the glass. I was so scared that I—that I had found to you too late.”

“But you didn’t. You, Brian and Deacy came back for me, and are willing to make up the day for me when you don’t even need to. Thank you Rog.” He smiled and said as he gently swung our entwined arms.

“Anything for my best girl.” He raised our hands up and placed a kiss at the back of my hand.  We stayed there for a about a couple more minutes until Roger stood up and went behind me and began to gently push my swing, just like my dad used to do for me back when I was a little girl.

After spending some time in the park, just as Roger promised we were now going through the mall just going from store to store and Roger spoiled me with new clothes and accessories and new instruments for my upcoming concerts.

The afternoon passed and now Roger and I were currently in Trafalgar Square, we had grabbed a cup of coffee from a nearby coffee shop and was now just sitting by a curb drinking and chatting away about anything and everything to clear our minds.  Just a few feet behind us, a guitar street performer was randomly singing covers of popular songs on his guitar hoping that people would leave him some cash to get by in the day, and if they wanted to, people came up and asked for requests and he would play them.  Roger turned his attention to the guitar player and he said.

“You know, we haven’t picked our song yet.”

“What?”

“For the father-daughter dance at your wedding. It’s only the most important dance besides the bride and groom’s.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah. And we need to pick one before the big day. Tell you what,” he fully turned to face me setting his coffee down before gesturing toward the guitar player, “Whatever he plays next. Whatever he plays, that’s our song for your big day.”

“Rog you do realize this could go really, really wrong you know?” We turned around and soon a group of girls all dressed up in semi-fancy clothes all gathered around the man giggling and chatting with him.  Roger stood up and held out his hands.

“C’mon love, come on.” He then leaned forward and took my hands in his and helped me stand up onto the sidewalk and I said as we got into dancing position one.

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this!”

“Shh wait, wait.” Already with his right holding my left while his left hand rested on my waist.  We heard the guitar strum and soon the song turned out to be the tune for “Happy Birthday.” The girls and the man then began singing as Roger led me into a dance. “What?! No!”

“This is our song.”

“Oh god this is awful!”

“So on the day of your wedding, our father-daughter song will be Happy birthday my little lion cub.” Roger said as he twirled me around wrapping his arms around me from behind swaying us back and forth before turning me back around and allowing my arms to wrap around his neck.

“You’re such a geek dad.” I giggled.  Suddenly I realized what it was that I had said.  Roger separated from me and just looked down at me.

There’s a huge difference from telling someone that you see them as something else and actually calling them that. Even though for years he’s treated me like a daughter and I’ve seen him as my new father-figure, never have I once called him dad because I didn’t want to overstep any boundaries.

“I—I’m sorry Rog I-I-I-I-I didn’t mean to I mean I….it just slipped and I….” he cupped my cheek before embracing me tightly.  It wasn’t a constricting hug, but more like a protective yet comforting hug, like the ones he’s always given me for years.

“Is it horrible for me to say that I’ve only been dreaming for you to finally call me that?”

“Really?” I asked.  He separated from me and said as he cupped my cheek once more.

“Yes. I didn’t tell anyone this detail, but the day after your 21st birthday after I had visited your father’s grave. I asked for a sign that I would have his approval for being the father-figure you needed in your life. I had no intention of replacing him in your eyes and I felt I needed to ask before I went any further with how I’ve seen you since the beginning. But that night at my house, a picture got knocked over and at first I thought someone had broken in and wanted to do harm, so I went over to where I had all my pictures and went to pick up the picture that fell, and it was the one of us at Hyde Park, your first big concert before your first world tour. The one I had Brian take of us, and I knew deep down that that was my sign from your dad. I know it could’ve been a coincidence or an accident but I believe the former to be true, that it was your dad answering me and wanting me to be the father you needed for all the rest of the years to come.”

I looked at him in shock as tears were forming in my eyes.  I smiled up at him and embraced him back as I felt his arms wrap around me.  I felt him kiss the side of my head as he held onto me closer.

“So does that mean I need to call you dad from now on?”

“Only when you want to, I won’t force you to say it all the time. But I will gladly enforce it when it’s just us two.” We both looked at each other smiling softly and he softly kissed my nose before pressing his forehead against mine as we swayed to an acoustic version of “My Girl” by the Temptations.

It was now almost sunset when Roger brought me back to the park and the two of us spent the rest of the afternoon walking through it.  Going deeper and deeper into it until we reached the open acre area of the park.

“Unfortunately my dear this is where we part ways and I must give you a way to one last member who has something he knows will help put the events of yesterday far behind you. Just keep walking down this path and you’ll soon come across a fork, take the left path and you’ll meet up with him. I’ll take all this stuff back to your house.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure love, go on best not keep him waiting. He’s been completely bored out of his mind all day and was rather pissed that he had to get stuck with the night shift.”

“Well best head that way then, thanks again…..dad.” I said with a smile.

“Anytime, my best girl.” He brought me close to him and kissed my forehead before walking away and headed out of the park.

I then began walking down the path and soon enough I reached the fork that led either left or right.  I took a deep breath and muttered to myself.

“Follow the yellow brick road Dorothy.” I then went to the left fork and walked on that would soon lead me to the area where Brian used to take me all the time back when I was stressed, and the same spot I once took Jack last year at around the time of the Summer fair.

I arrived at the rolling hills and when I went down one I began to hear the strums of an acoustic guitar and I saw just ahead of me the light of a lamp or something. I walked up another hill and there sitting along a blanket was Brian.  He turned towards me and said.

“Ahh Ms. (l/n), good to see you’ve arrived on time. Guess I won’t need to deduct points for your tardiness.” I smiled softly knowing his game.

“Been a long time since we’ve met like this Dr. May, what shall we be learning today?” I asked as I walked up toward him and sat down beside him.

“It’s not what I will be teaching you, it’s what you will be reviewing for me.” He said as he set his guitar to the side and patted a spot on the blanket for me to sit down.

I walked towards him and sat down beside him.  Since it was starting to get a bit cold on this spring night, Brian picked up his coat and placed it over my shoulders.  His body heat that was still trapped inside the coat warmed me up and his excess cologne soothed my senses making me more relaxed.

As the sky grew darker, Brian turned off the lantern and lay down on his back and said.

“Now then Ms. (l/n), remind me of the process that helps powers the stars.” I racked my brain trying to remember all the lessons he had given me and the science classes from when I was in secondary school as well as University.

“Is it…..nuclear fission?”

“Close, it’s nuclear fusion.” Brian said.

“Gah! I’ve always gotten those two mixed up.” I groaned out.

“Alright well tell me this; The final stage for the most massive stars is either a massive explosion known as a supernova or gravitational collapse into a….”

“Black hole!” I exclaimed.

“You are correct.”

“Yes.” I muttered successfully.

“Now tell me this, what is the name of the invisible, radio wave-emitting object at the center of our galaxy that astronomers suspect is a supermassive black hole?”

“Ahh oh don’t tell me! I know it I know it I know it!” I began racking my brain again trying to remember what it was exactly.  “Oh god it has something to do with a letter in the name!”

“You give up?” Brian teased.

“Give me a second uhh…..Augh okay I give up, what is it?”

“The answer is Sagittarius A.”

“Damnit I knew I was on the right track!”

“Seems you’ve been lacking in your studies Ms. (l/n).” he said as he sat up and sat shoulder to shoulder with me.  I lowered my head softly laughing and I said.

“I’m sorry, some things have been coming up that took me away from my studying.”

“And what pray tell could be more important than your studies?” he said with that well-known head tilt of his and raised brows of his.  I looked up at him my innocent doe eyes and shrugged my shoulders at him.  He smirked at me before suddenly pulling me close to him and tickled around my waist making me shriek and squirm.  He softly chuckled as he stopped and I was now leaning against his chest.

“I’ve missed nights like this with you Bri.”

“Me too darling.” He said as he stroked a strand of hair away from my face and behind my ear.  “You always were my best student.”

“Bri I was your only student.” I chuckled out.  He smiled down at me and kissed my forehead.

“So did the guys and I succeed on making this day any better for you?” I looked up to him and said.

“You boys always know what to do in order to make me feel better. I got to dance like I fool with Deacy, got to spend the afternoon with Roger and do some shopping both for myself and for the wedding, and now I’m star gazing with my favorite professor. I can’t thank you boys enough for what you all did to try and do for me after what happened yesterday.”

“Well we couldn’t very well leave our Rock Angel depressed just months before her big day. So we hoped we’d at least give her a make-up day to feel better and to let her know that we still love her. Just because one Queen member goes back on what he once claimed, doesn’t mean that it’s the same for the rest of us.”

“And I know that now after today. Thanks Brian.”

“Anytime love,” he wrapped his arms around me bringing me closer to him.  His head resting on top of mine as his right hand gently stroked up and down my upper bicep.  I placed my hands on top of his wrist and snuggled further into him, if that was even possible to do.  “Oh I almost forgot, I have something for you.”

He released me from his embrace and handed me what appeared to be a wrapped up present. It was a rectangular shaped box, I took it in my hands but before I opened it, Brian stopped me by saying, “Before you open it though, do you remember where the constellation Leo is located?”

“Remind me again.” I asked as I set the present down in my lap.  Brian took my right hand and guided it as he stated softly.

“Eastward lying right between my sign of Cancer the crab and west of Virgo the Maiden.” It was then he stopped and gently extended my index finger out and said, “Do you see him?”

“Yeah I can see him now.”

“Good. Now,” he then slowly guided my hand to about 45 degrees away from the head of Leo as he continued, “At about 45 degrees Northeast of the head of Leo, I want you to now open up your present.” I took back the present and began opening it and inside it was a manila folder.  I looked to Brian in confusion and I said to him.

“What is this Bri?”

“Just open it up love, it’ll be clearer once you see it.” I unfolded the silver tabs and opened the folder up and reached in it.  Soon I had pulled out a photograph of a bushel of stars.  Already I saw the head of Leo and on that picture one of the stars was circled.  I saw Brian’s index finger point to the circled star as he explained, “That star right there was best known as Star #02118D243. But now, it shall be forever known as ‘The Rock Angel’.”

I looked up at him in shock.

He turned toward me and said.

“I was planning on this being a wedding present, but I figured now was a better time to give it to you.” He gently tucked away some hair behind my ear once more and I said.

“Oh my god Bri I—I don’t even know what to say…..”

“There’s nothing you need to say. Just know that like the star that’s named after you, never stop shining bright. And the reason why I chose your star to be by Leo and not by your own zodiac is because of Roger,” he fully turned toward me placing his hands on my shoulders giving them a gentle yet firm squeeze as he stared into my eyes, “For a while I thought him calling you his lion cub was just some sort of little codename you both have for each other because of the bond you two share, but now I can see why he truly calls you that,” he cupped the right side of my face and continued as he brushed his fingers across my temple before placing it over my heart, “You have the heart of an angel. A well-known warrior of heaven. And the soul of a lioness”.

His hand went back to my shoulder and he said as he very slightly shook my shoulders as he leaned his head toward mine.

“The hardships you’ve faced have only made you that much stronger. And Fred…..he’s just another one we know you’ll overcome, our brave lioness Queen.”

His hand cupped my face as I could feel his thumb stroke my cheekbone gingerly, wiping away the tears that were probably running down my face.  I silently looked down at the picture of my star and it was almost like it was telling me to listen to Brian.

I inhaled deeply before exhaling and I turned back towards Brian and said.

“Never did I think that my idol would use the same words that I have been told for the second half of my life. And I feared that you guys would do the same to me, I feared that I would spend the rest of my life with people faking around me. But like you said when each star dies, another is born in its place. And I’m done being letting people get me down. I’ve done what they once said I couldn’t do. I got the courage to get up on stage instead of turning away, I managed to get me a number 1 hit single before I reached my 20’s. And now I’ve managed to find someone to spend the rest of my life with. It’s time I finally let go of the past, learn from the hurt, and get back up on my feet and tread on.”

“That’s my clever girl.” Brian said with a proud smile.  He cupped my face once more and kissed the tip of my nose and brought me close to him as the two of us stared up at the stars, especially the direction towards my star.

As the night dragged on I felt myself getting sleepy.  So Brian packed up all the stuff back into the bag and put it over his shoulder and escorted me back to his car parked nearby the park’s side entrance into the acre field of the park.  He set the stuff in the trunk and allowed me to sleep in the backseat.

I laid across it and got myself as comfortable as I could in the backseat of his car.  The soft purring of the engine sent me into a lulled sense of peace as I felt my eyes drop like they were lead and I began to fall asleep.

Next thing I wake up back in my house in the bedroom with not only Brian but Deacy and Roger surrounding my bed.

“Go back to sleep love, okay?” Deacy said as he stroked away my hair and tucked it behind my ear.  I nodded tiredly and soon I fell back asleep feeling three kisses along my temple, cheek and nose respectively.

[scarlettlawyer]

Part 6 of my commentary/reaction of the fanfiction series Phantoms & Mirages by @renegadewangs And uh – there’s actually a small (but relevant) commentary on Turnabout to the Past in this post too… :P

Also looks like I’d better start organising the links to the previous posts more properly, so:

(Chasing Phantoms): Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 

(Haunted Specters): Part 4 | Part 5 |

So picking up with the same chapter, swiftly and subtly over the course of the fic, the phantom has been dramatically repositioned by the narrative. And now, all of a sudden, as the connections get made… Just after being shown Actual Child Phantom and having that sympathetic image fresh in our minds, the narrative suddenly goes “Haha! So anyway! Bobby and Simon parallel the phantom’s parents! :D” and throughout this chapter, because of the severity of the phantom’s injury and their weakened state, Bobby and Simon have been forced to make sure that he, well, doesn’t die. So now all of the sudden the phantom is kinda like… their child that they need to look after…

It’s almost as if… the narrative is equating the phantom with being a child… their child… And that alone is… really, really amusing. It was very funny to me. It was just about hilarious. It was the best thing. I couldn’t get enough of it. You actually managed to construct these parallels wherein the narrative positions the reader to see a direct parallel between, on some level, this fully grown man guilty of countless murders and a child. To see him as a kind of child that needs vital assistance from Bobby and Simon, rendered momentarily weak and helpless by circumstance.

Time and time again, the phantom has been built up by the series as extremely intimidating, scary, DANGEROUS, what have you, but in this moment, in one fell swoop, at least in terms of how I saw it, the narrative appears to dish out a kind of retribution. The phantom’s character is, to an extent, made fun of in the best possible way, amidst his transformation into protagonist and beginning to grab at the sympathies and concerns of the reader, Bobby and even Simon. Because however much our perspectives might have shifted somewhat at this point, no one is under any true illusion here: we all know that the phantom is a colossal jerk who has done terrible, terrible things. For the narrative to point at him, an adult, a criminal and a murderer, and say to the reader, “oh, just look at this poor little child” is on some level to outright mock him, and to strip away much of the character’s ability to intimidate in any real sense at this point. It is also a repositioning that mainly only the reader is privy to; he is not being made fun of directly in the story or being subjected to any true retribution directly over this outside of the karmic frustrations and indignities of being temporarily unable to properly fight back against Bobby and Simon’s assistance. But Bobby and Simon are not provided with the insight into the direct parental parallels. No, the “lol the phantom is a child” perspective namely resides with the reader, now, and its as if we are given every permission through it to dunk on him, as he should be dunked on, ‘cause he sucks and ruined lives lol.

The flashback to the phantom when he was a small child was nothing but angsty, make no mistake, but that does not make any narrative plays on his current adult self being a child any less amusing, and vice versa – it doesn’t in any way take away from the horror and awfulness of the child abuse flashback.

The phantom’s trauma is not funny, nor is his suffering – rather, the narrative positioning him as Bobby and Simon’s child is.

I also want to expand a little on how Simon assaulting the phantom was to an extent mirroring him as a small child being assaulted by his abusive father, although I touched on it briefly in my previous post.

In one situation, the phantom is an innocent, helpless, actual child, just doing his own thing… In the other, he is, well, the opposite of “innocent”, as well as actively baiting and anticipating the attack. And Simon striking out, naturally, is seen by the reader as being so much more justified. It is the same person – the phantom – being attacked in both situations, but different in the ways I’ve iterated. And the attacker could not be more different either, with such a very, very different connection and history with the phantom. And the reader sees the two situations as they occur in such different lights.

And yet still, there manages to be a handful of similarities between the two occurrences, such as the phantom not fighting back in either.

It’s so interesting to think about.

Not to mention that this series has been saying over and over again, he’s a monster, look at this monster, what a MONSTER… and then flips the script, everything over and puts that word into this new light.

Continuing on…

“Lex Luster… He was killed.”

Me reading this for the first time: “LOL nice try author, but I know he isn’t really dead. This is just one of your bait-and-switches, your red herrings isn’t it? Let’s see… wasn’t the phantom only just saying that this Lex Luster would take advantage of the break-in to garner sympathy and spread lies? Well, he probably had his sights set on an even greater plan. He must have faked his own death in some kind of clever elaborate ploy that will only serve to benefit him!”

The narrative as it continued to chug along, with no hints of a sudden He’s Alive reveal emerging: Uh, no he’s… he’s really dead, dude.

Me: “…What? But that makes literally no sense. I… I know that Lex Luster is supposed to be an important character. Isn’t he supposed to like, be a protagonist in future or something? I guess not, unless it’s through flashbacks, or maybe this really IS all we get of the character… So like, wait, that’s all we get of the “Lex Luster” character? Were… Were we supposed to care about that guy?! Because I’m sorry but… I really don’t see it. That guy who just got killed off, Lex Luster? I didn’t care about him. I’m sorry. (Maybe even though he wasn’t featured much, maybe he’s a bit of an Ensemble Darkhorse and/or the author had his character fleshed out behind the scenes in ways they didn’t get to showcase?? Hmm… Well either way… At least based on what I know about the guy… Don’t see why he was important tbqh).”

…WELL.

Also, I love the three of them just sitting down and playing a little blame-shifting game over a murder. Gosh I love this trio.

Haunted Specters, Chapter fourteen

“… I don’t… I…” The Phantom pressed his palm against the side of his head, leaning forward in his seat. “How is this possible? Who would dare impersonate me? Who would dare use that face?”

1. The phantom being at a loss for words – I love it

2. HE SOUNDS SO FULL OF HIMSELF… THIS MAN WHO CLAIMS TO HAVE NO SENSE OF SELF… So imperious… “WHO would DARE impersonate me?!” Get a load of this guy! :D

3. I honestly didn’t think you could do another kind of “Bobby impersonates the phantom” in terms of ironic phantom impersonation reversals on the same kind of level. I was wrong. “Someone impersonates the phantom using the phantom’s real face” is a scenario that had never, ever crossed my mind before. BUT IT’S SO GOOD. IT’S SO GOOD. Delicious. The phantom gets a nice big taste of his own medicine.

4. Also, this curveball felt Ghost Trick levels of mindscrewy when first revealed. XD

[…] the ones who’d been in the courtroom the moment the Phantom was attacked by a sniper […]

Oh you mean Bobby’s thera- okay I’ll shut up now. He just gets so many early references okay.

“I’ve lost track. However, there are two names that I’m sure you hope to hear. Calisto Yew and Shih-na.”

YES. YES. YES. CHEERING SOUND EFFECT Y’ALL, SHE MADE IT! SHE MADE IT TO THE NARRATIVE

It had almost felt like the narrative was really dancing around her… It felt like a “dropping-references-but-no-role-in-the-story” type deal but like, really pushing it, with maybe one too many references... And I’ve read more than one phantom fic where the phantom had links to her… But I just told myself “well, not everyone’s gonna go that route. Duh. And it makes sense in a realistic way. I mean, it’s highly unlikely that Calisto/Shih-Na and the phantom would know each other or have ever interacted with each other. So I certainly respect the author’s decision to not include her at all in the story and have it so the two don’t have any ties, after all it can be seen as a little cliché and the author may want to avoid that, as a decision it’s bold and respectab- WAIT NEVER MIND SHE’S HERE SHE’S ARRIVED SHE’S AWESOME THANK YOU”

And then I’m like… WAIT… SHE’S KNOWN AS MIRAGE IN THIS SERIES?!

SHE WAS THERE… THE WHOLE TIME… RIGHT IN THE TITLE.

Me, a FOOL, reading the series Phantoms and Mirages: It kind of sucks that she isn’t in this because she’s such a great and fun character, but I certainly respect the author’s decision

GOOOSH…

I swear I’m confident I would have been more inclined to check out this series prior to this year if I had actually known this little fact.

AND ALSO????

Okay, okay… and like… Teenage phantom flashback??? Was NOT expecting it. It was an even greater shift. The interaction with Mirage… the banter, the neutrality of it… & the fact that this fic actually gives him someone who had affection for him like this way back in his past, despite his emotionlessness? It’s ah, humanising? Fleshing him out? I was finding it hard to believe that the story was really treating the phantom’s character in this way… Because it felt way too good to be true. Because I probably just had my phantom bias goggles on. Because of the way the last fic had treated the phantom’s character, I also found it hard to believe. But more and more, I could not deny it… I was really starting to nod along and go, hey. It’s not just me. The author is pulling these strings on purpose, constructing the character and the narrative in this way, in this light…

“Agent Fulbright. Why does it strike me as if you’ve got a dead animal on your face?”

Aww man, this is harsher in hindsight given the later reveal that Bobby’s so self-conscious of it… But this exchange following this line/the line itself was super funny

“Of course. It’s a method that was perfected over fifteen years ago. I believe the Hotti Clinic is one of many locations around the world that specializes in facial reconstruction.”

NICE ONE.

Me: that sounds a little farfe- Oh wait nvm that has a very solid basis in actual ace attorney canon.

Haunted Specters, Chapter 15

Perhaps, in a way, the spy even meant to protect a gentle person like Sam from a gunshot wound.

Hmm, food for thought! Oh, protect from a gunshot wound like Simon's inclined to protect Sam from risk of electric shock later?

“A need to craft?” “It keeps the headaches at bay. Aside from that, this has always been my preferred pastime. If I were to have something of a hobby, this would be it.” A hobby… How peculiar. The Phantom had shown a tendency to adopt the hobbies of his personas, from fixing clocks to pursuing justice, yet here he was with a pastime of his own. A rather disturbing pastime, yet a pastime nonetheless.

And you gave?? The phantom a kind of hobby??? The stuff only starts pilin’ on after this, let me tell you.

And this whole scene too is just… Simon talking to the phantom neutrally. It’s…!

And it’s so cool that we basically get to see child phantom pull off the equivalent of his Dual Destinies jump in this chapter.

Haunted Specters, Chapter 16

“What a ridiculous question. It’s because I am male.” “Identifying yourself as male implies identity, Phantom.”

I HADN’T BEEN EXPECTING THE NARRATIVE TO ADDRESS THIS I HADN’T BEEN EXPECTING THE NARRATIVE TO ADDRESS THIS. This was SO great and refreshing to see, especially since it had been a tiny little thing bothering me somewhat from the very start. I’ve already brought it up more than once in these commentaries. You might have noticed, but although I use he/him for your version of the phantom, I tend to use they/them when talking about the phantom in general.

It wasn’t always like that with me, though! When I first finished Dual Destinies I was constantly using he/him. I mean, it’s what the phantom is referred to with consistently in-game, after all. And I never reconsidered it at all until I saw it brought up/discussed among other ace attorney fans as an issue. But even then, my perspective was pretty much the same as Pengychan’s – there’s, if I recall correctly, an author’s note in Turnabout to the Past addressing the pronouns issue, where it’s stated something like “well, the phantom lacks a sense of self to the extent that they don’t have the self-reflection required to challenge the notion + they don’t care/aren’t bothered by it. They just stick with he/him because it’s the default that gets applied and don’t have enough sense of self to even question it.” And I couldn’t have agreed more. And I still agree? It’s a completely reasonable and justified perspective/interpretation.

But over the years, I’ve just slipped more and more into the they/them habit to the extent that it started feeling more “correct” to me. I’ve read really really great fic where the phantom is afab and they/them is consistently used by the narrative the entire way through. All of a sudden, he/him phantom started feeling kind of jarring to read, even when it had felt like the most natural version to me in the past. It was almost like I started becoming more fond of they/them phantom hahaha. But both sets of pronouns have equal claim. (And I tend to use they/them for general, all-encompassing phantom because it includes everyone’s interpretations and still doesn’t exclude he/him interpretations. So it captures ‘em all!).

“Effort? In what way?” “Women need to watch their posture. Their nails. Their hair. Their appearance is always judged.[…]”

Okay honestly, looking back, I think this was another statement I looked way too much into at the time and misconstrued. The brevity, and therefore lack of specification, leaves something to be desired to me here…

For example: Nails…? That feels like it reaches straight into the realm of stereotypical for me. Obviously – I mean, obviously he’s making a comically HUGE generalisation here, that’s just a given. Maybe the “nails” comment is more about… “some women” idek but when I first read this, it kinda felt like he was sitting there going “being a woman is so difficult, always needing to maintain perfect, painted nails blah blah blah…” Like dude. It’s nails. Nobody cares. If a woman isn’t preoccupied/obsessed with manicures or whatever, there tends to be 0 difference between men and women when it comes to nails and how they are maintained. And hair, too, it’s like… myself and plenty of women I’m sure hardly give our hair much thought at ALL in day to day life, even if on average the focus may be a little bit more than it is for men.

I realise that I probably read this the wrong way though, and what he’s actually saying may be more akin to “regardless of how a woman personally feels about her appearance, and how little she personally cares about maintaining her appearance, that appearance is still going to be more heavily judged”??? But that still seems kinda… Like that doesn’t really impact much how difficult it is to portray a woman. That’s only a comment on how other people would treat them… Like there’s a greater risk involved if the disguise itself is more closely examined cause he doesn’t want to be discovered, but…

Another thing though is he’s probably making general comments that aren’t supposed to be particularly accurate and/or specific. I just look into things and make assumptions way too much. :P

Like the one thing I’ll give him is the whole posture aspect… to an extent. Societal influences/expectations DO go both ways and men have their own expectations to comply with, even in the realm of posture. But I guess the takeaway here is that for the most part, the scrutiny for men is less + the posture of “men” is often stuff that would come more naturally to anyone, men or women. It’s women who, when it comes to femininity, tend to be required to actually modify in ways that don’t come as naturally. And also a lot of “men’s posture” is seen as default and/or they have more claim to default posture.

Even if he has some kind of a point… What he’s saying sounded, to me, ridiculously exaggerated. At the time on the first readthrough I interpreted him as kind of saying “as a woman, like ALL women, you have to be constantly aware of yourself, carefully adhering to femininity in everything you do in unnatural, practised ways.” And like… HAHAHA… nah? Women tend to just live their lives and most of the time they are acting in ways that come naturally. But there are times when this kind of pressure comes into play but not to that extent. Not constantly. It obviously depends on a given woman’s circumstances though… Because I’m sure for some, life circumstances do require putting on a constant show of hyper-femininity. Which would tend to be… exhausting.

And yes, women’s appearance and behaviour is subject to scrutiny by society, and such scrutiny, and being aware you are under such scrutiny, can modify one’s behaviour to the extent that it is less natural. But at THE SAME TIME this also struck me as being kinda bogus. “Women need to watch their posture” uh… I guess? To an extent, in that society reckons there are certain “ladylike” ways to sit and conduct oneself, but those instances are still quite specific and are not necessarily a CONSTANT, FELT presence… pretty sure most women going about their day are just living their life. Well, you could also say that being “trained” by society into conducting yourself in a certain way and having a certain posture and what have you so that it becomes what comes naturally and is no longer noticeable is also a factor.

There are valid points in most of what he’s saying, exaggerated or no. For a variety of reasons, portraying a woman comes with difficulties.

But also…

In a way, that justification struck Simon as a rather weak excuse to cover any traces of true identity.

The whole thing is that there is something buried away. And this is one form of that something bleeding through. The text lampshades the flimsy nature of the excuses, hints at this.

So at the end of the day… There is actual narrative reason in this series for the phantom being he/him from the beginning. It also arguably allows for a smoother transition between “the phantom” and Lex later on. So yeah… I’m fully on board.

Also like… Just like how women are people with a huge variety and spectrum of personalities… Men are equally varied and, depending on the personality, can potentially be very difficult & demanding to portray (like you know… BOBBY – original Bobby). Hands down there are men way more difficult to portray than an “average” woman, no question. PLUS… the whole self-awareness demands don’t apply when the phantom kinda needs to always be self-aware of his every action when in a persona regardless. Especially the more difficult and demanding ones. SO THE TAKEAWAY HERE at least for me definitely is… The phantom is a big dummy in denial about having some kind of self and the fact that this self has a sense of “maleness” attached to it.

Or perhaps the Phantom truly was looking at the matter so objectively that he couldn’t grasp the difference between biological and psychological. The difference between sex and gender.

Simon, pulling up a helpful and informative tumblr post: “You see, there’s actually a difference between the two!”

“…Simon Blackquill. You’ve no need to lecture me on such things, as I have done far more research than you on matters such as these. I know what applies and does not apply to me, such as the simple fact that I am aroace.”

“Don’t. Odd as it is, it’s grown on me.” A moment’s pause, then Bobby snorted. “It’s grown on me too. Literally.”

xDDD

Haunted Specters, Chapter 18

The only thing he could take comfort in was the fact that Sam Specter looked far more exhausted than he felt. It had to do with the recent migraine attack, no doubt.

Using “Sam Specter” but meaning the phantom… Sam Specter is supposed to be an act. Sam Specter has been said to always look tired. Yet Simon is looking at him here, seeing the phantom underneath, but still using “Sam Specter”…!

Not that either of them could approach him to ask whether he was holding up alright

APPROACH WHO? ASK WHO? Simon is referring to “Sam” but he knows that Sam is an act, a facade and there is no point… This is just a hypothetical sentence though; it doesn’t say that he wants to check on him… And even if he does it could be rationalised away with “well he needs to remain intact for the plan to go off without a hitch” but…!

Bobby seemed genuinely concerned for Sam. Seemed to be genuinely interested in the words of someone who wasn’t even real. Perhaps, after two weeks, the line between the Phantom and Sam Specter was beginning to blur for him as well. Perhaps he was foolish enough to believe that due to the Phantom’s utter devotion to his personas, Sam was just as real as any other human. 

YOOOOOO

Same though. SAME. Because for so long I thought the author didn’t care too much about the phantom, I put way too much stock in Sam. “The narrative wants us to care about Sam, not the phantom. Because the other way around is too good to be true… right?” I also thought maybe Simon was still slightly underestimating the phantom’s level of self-deception at the time as well.

But guess what? Sam is a trap. You find yourself growing attached or caring about Sam in ANY way, you are in a roundabout way caring about the phantom. The person just behind the façade. And once you’re in too deep, all that’s left is for the façade to be yanked away. A sleight of hand wherein you realise oh, oh no…

Over the past few chapters, there’s been a sudden rush of information and situations that just, it all happens so fast, it seems.

“That’s why you need to remind Agent Fulbright not to get too attached to his new friend. You and I both know there’s only one acceptable ending to this sorry tale.” Only one acceptable ending… Execution. […] Either way, the Phantom’s fate was unavoidable. Unavoidable and of his own choosing. Death.

And when I read this, I grew very serious. I nodded to myself in complete agreement and internally said, in all seriousness… “yes.”

They were to head for Fulbright’s apartment, a location that was already known to the Phantom either way. He’d made it perfectly clear he didn’t want the spy knowing about his own apartment- Aura’s apartment- in order to have at least one safe location should things go awry.

Huh… I guess what it comes down to here is the phantom’s lack of memories… Because he should know about Simon’s apartment. But he wouldn’t now, due to the fall…

Haunted Specters, Chapter 19

“Nice beard!” she remarked, grinning so widely Simon wondered whether it might hurt her face. “Are you going for the middle-aged Obi Wan Kenobi look?”

THIS IS ATHENA’S SECOND STAR WARS REFERENCE IN THIS SERIES… what a tiny yet consistent running thread.

“Sam,” Bobby called, hoping to get his attention. In retrospect, that’d been a bad move. Sam started so badly that he accidentally shook the pocket watch, sending tiny gears and screws all over the floor. A few words of Cohdopian escaped him- perhaps curses that Simon couldn’t understand.

SDKBDSJBK HOW MUCH OF THIS REACTION IS GENUINE… PLEASE TELL ME AT LEAST SOME OF IT

He drew a steadying breath and turned to face them, eyes narrowing when his gaze fell on Athena. For a moment, there was nothing. Then his expression brightened to the point where Simon found it almost suspicious. Sam pushed himself to his feet with a flourish and approached her. He prattled something in Cohdopian and leaned forward in a bit of a bow. Then he took Athena’s hand with his own, pressing his lips against the back of it, causing her to giggle.

ASKJBADLBJADKLNADKNL?

OKAY THIS IS! HAHAHA, LET’S UNPACK THIS

I JUST… I

1- The phantom knows DAMN well who Athena is

2- The phantom ACTIVELY DECIDES to do this. Not only that, but he ACTIVELY DECIDES, on Sam’s behalf – a real person who used to be alive that he stole the identity of - that this is how Sam Specter would react to meeting Athena. That Sam would treat her like this and have this opinion of her. (Or, who knows… Maybe Sam just tends to be this way towards women in general and Athena isn’t getting singled out…?)

3- I JUST CAN’T BELIEVE HE DOES THIS OMG

4- HE KNOWS FULL WELL HOW MUCH THIS WOULD IRK SIMON AND BOBBY.

5- HE OBVIOUSLY HAS NO WAY OF KNOWING FOR CERTAIN THAT THIS IS HOW SAM WOULD REACT TO ATHENA, SO

6- THE PHANTOM IS A GODDAMN TROLL, ‘NUFF SAID

“What did he say?” “He uh… He said that she’s the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen,” Bobby rolled his eyes, mouth drawn in bitter distaste. Words failed Simon completely. His mouth opened, then closed itself. He gave Sam’s shoulder one last squeeze in warning before releasing him. This time, not even Fulbright seemed entirely willing to overlook Sam’s behavior, as he was watching the man closely as well.

Haaahahah. You did it. You actually put in brief joke phantom/Athena.

You know what makes this better? Much later, way after this scene, prior to the end of Vanquishing Mirages, I messaged another one of my friends basically saying “Hey… So I haven’t finished it yet so I can’t say for absolute certain… But so far, this may just be one of the best fanfiction series I have ever read.”

He replied something akin to, “LOL, yeah, imagine if you kept reading on only for it to suddenly turn into romantic Athena/phantom? Bet you’d kinda regret saying that then.”

To which I was able to gleefully and jokingly reply, “…Oh, it’s been done.”

Haunted Specters, Chapter 20

He considered following anyway, allowing the Phantom to suffer for the sake of stopping Fulbright from doing something foolish, but then… It wouldn’t be the Phantom who would suffer. Most likely, it’d be Sam Specter, who had nothing to do with any of this.

BUT THE F

SAM ISN’T- THE PHANTOM IS-

Nevermind.

“If he can feel emotions now, maybe we can straighten them out! Maybe he can be rehabilitated to-”

Me: Bobby, no. Don’t.

Okay, so when I read this… the prospect of the emotions getting “straightened out” was something that piqued my interest. It was something I knew I would like to see. But to whatever extent they could be “straightened out”, although I figured it would be fascinating to see, I figured it would be very limited. Even something limited would be quite significant, but…

…I still agreed with Simon. It would ultimately change nothing in the grand scheme of things. That man – the phantom – would still have to die in the end. He needed to die. That’s the only way this could end.

I wouldn’t have denied wanting to see his emotions get straightened out before he meets his end though, however limited the results may be. I felt the same tug Bobby did – I wanted him to be helped. But helped prior to an inevitable death.

Let us return to this earlier segment that I commented on:

”[…] You and I both know there’s only one acceptable ending to this sorry tale.” Only one acceptable ending… Execution. […] Either way, the Phantom’s fate was unavoidable. Unavoidable and of his own choosing. Death.

And I’m going to expand a little more on what I essentially thought when I first read it beyond my simple “yes” that I supplied before:

“Absolutely. No way out of it. So narrative, make it so. He has to die. I’ll be waiting. I will hold you to your word. Everyone from Bobby to the narrative and the reader have been getting awfully familiar with and caring for the phantom with the new sympathetic slant the story’s been taking. Almost suspiciously so. But it changes nothing. He must die. It is the only acceptable ending to this story. Tragic? Sure. But there’s no real alternative. None.”

You might be a little like “whoa, whoa – hold up. Isn’t he your favourite character?! The whole reason you started this series?”

To which I’d reply: “Absolutely. And he needs to be executed and/or die, if this is the route the narrative ultimately seems to be heading in.”

“…By all means, allow Bobby and Simon to become unwittingly invested. Make the phantom sympathetic. Pile on the angst. But in the end…? Execution. Death”

Why? ...I’d been hurt before.

And to understand this oddly firm stance… Apologies, but I need to briefly talk a little bit about Turnabout to the Past. XD

Turnabout to the Past is a narrative that is constantly building up to the phantom’s inevitable execution – or rather, Robert LaRoche’s execution, by the end of it. We – the readers - grow to care. Simon grows to care. Athena grows to care. About him. This care, and LaRoche’s changes and regaining of identity, do not grant him full redemption. He is still required to pay for his crimes. This never changes.

From the way the story is set up and construed, Robert LaRoche’s redemption actually hinges upon his execution. In an odd kind of way, although he can make progress towards redemption, full redemption cannot be granted until he is dead – regaining his identity, changing his behaviour, and having other characters become invested in him on its own is not enough, even though they are all contributing factors towards redemption. Full redemption is still withheld from him until his execution can be carried out.

Like many people who read Turnabout to the Past, I bawled my eyes out. The “execution” scene left me a complete and utter mess. The whole ending – all of it – just ruined me.

In the end, he cheats death. In doing so, he cheats himself out of a full, complete and proper redemption. It is a huge act of betrayal. He betrays Simon, he betrays Athena, he fundamentally betrays himself. He is forced to leave the Robert LaRoche he struggled so hard to regain behind once more.

Simon wanted him to face death. That’s what he wanted him to do from the beginning. That’s the promise between them. But he doesn’t. The promise is broken.

I felt betrayed by LaRoche, too. I cried so hard and so much at his “execution”. And for what?

As much as the execution scene wrecked me, as much as it hurt, as painful as it was, however much I was crying, it felt right. He had to die. This was what the entire fic had been building towards. It was “the only acceptable ending to this story”.

But he cheats death. And I felt betrayed, and I felt angry towards the character for doing something like this to me, to Athena, to Blackquill, to himself.

Athena and Blackquill are grieving. They are grieving over him. And for what? For what?! How could he do this? How could I forgive him? How could he not only betray Athena and Blackquill but also cause them so much pain and suffering – grief – in the process?! Grief based on a false premise. Grief for… For nothing.

…Inevitably, I got the hell over myself, and came back to read the super cool sequel. :P We wouldn’t have gotten such a cool sequel if it wasn’t for that betrayal…!

Obviously, this fic is not that fic. This series is very different, so the exact same rules do not, cannot apply. But I still had some baggage lying around, and I was essentially (unfairly) taking it out on this fic’s version of the phantom. “Well, someone has to die. LaRoche didn’t die. He cheated death. So this phantom isn’t allowed to. So don’t let him get away.”

Well obviously, you already know that I’m happy with how things turn out, so… It’s a foregone conclusion that this perspective changes at some point as this series continues!

Simon hadn’t bothered to bid him farewell. He hadn’t truly gotten along with Sam either way.

!!!!

Bobby looked torn for a moment, as if he wasn’t sure what to say or how to even say it. “… But don’t hurt her, okay? There’s no real reason to injure her, so… Don’t. And try not to get hurt yourself.” “Yes, mother,” the Phantom droned. Bobby didn’t reply.

YOU JUST COULD NOT RESIST MAKING THIS JOKE COULD YOU, and I absolutely can’t blame you. I LOVE it.

ALSO I’M JUST SDJDSJLNLNDS? This is supposed to be a sarcastic quip right? But I’m NOT SURE HOW MUCH SELF-AWARENESS THE PHANTOM HAS WHEN MAKING THIS JOKE…

Haunted Specters, Chapter 21

The… The confrontation between Mirage & the phantom… The phantom was always the one in control during the flashbacks with Mirage. He was always the one who had power over her, both in the sense that he is the one teaching her new skills and is therefore “in charge” and kinda of a higher rank, and he also wields power over her – unintentionally so – in the fact that she holds affection for him.

And now that’s turned on its head. The phantom is on his knees, powerless, grasping, begging. Mirage has all the power. Mirage is the one in control. Probably for, well, the first time ever, she’s actually seeing the phantom losing control, powerless, weak, she is wielding power over him.

So on the one hand, part of me is kinda like “yeah, show him who’s boss, show him what’s what, it’s your turn to be in control now!” But on the other hand I was like. “NOO MIRAGE I THOUGHT YOU WERE COOL… WHY… I TRUSTED YOU… LOOK WHAT YOU’RE DOING TO MY FAVE… I THOUGHT YOU CARED?? HOW COULD YOU…” And ultimately, the second perspective won out.

Also, the casual way she talks about killing people coupled with how she treats the phantom towards the end of the scene is a reminder that, however much of a fun and exciting character she is, she is still a dangerous criminal involved in the facilitation of things like uh, HUMAN TRAFFICKING.

The Phantom had had another breakdown.

It started feeling like a running, constant occurrence at this point. Really felt like the characters could really start using one of these:

They’re definitely gonna have to reset it a few more times, too. :’D

SAM’S NOTE. SAM’S NOTE. OH NOOO. SAM’S NOTE. I AM FEELING KINDA SENTIMENTAL OVER A FICTIONAL FAKE PERSONA’S DEPARTURE FROM THE NARRATIVE GOD DAMMIT. How?!

Sam was a literary trap, aiding in dooming us all.

Towards the end, treating Sam Specter as a real person was no longer a knowing act of self-deception on Simon’s part, but had rather become a habit that he’d fallen into. A habit that comes awfully naturally now. One that he sometimes may not even be aware of, and sometimes may need to consciously wake himself up from.

The explanation that I’ve finally settled on… is that it was never about how “human” Sam is. Because Sam will always be artificial. He can never become 100% real or human. The real Sam is already dead and cannot be resurrected. It was never even about Sam. It had always been about the phantom. The phantom that was always hiding just underneath.

There’s something else, too, towards the end of this fic. Before, when the parents-and-their-child dynamic was set up, and the trio were all forced to live together in a temporary truce, I referred to it as a special liminal space wherein they were sectioned off from the rest of the characters and the rest of the world. In this strange little space, they and the reader had to ignore the extreme oddity of the circumstances to some degree in order to function properly and make sense of it. Simon and Bobby can tell themselves that this is only temporary, and that soon enough, everything can just go back to normal again once they abandon their little liminal space over in Cohdopia and everything wraps up. That is a false promise.

After an extended interval, their liminal space gets broken, intruded upon. First by Lang, who enters their odd little circle that is still being propped up. Then by Athena. And they return to America, too. They’re not in Cohdopia anymore in a secretive little apartment no one else knows about. The location changes. They’re not completely sectioned off from the other characters anymore. But things have changed. Things are changing. Bobby does not “snap out of it”. He only becomes more steadfast and entrenched in his support of the phantom.  Simon is clearly, well…! He’s being influenced. And the phantom is still able to interact neutrally with the other members of the cast. The new light and perspective shed on him by the fic does not suddenly vanish, he doesn’t suddenly “change back” to whatever he seemed to be before. Of course not. There’s a line of continuity here, and the dynamic changes between the cast cannot be boxed away, sectioned off, erased.

The phantom’s child abuse flashback is a sudden, powerful jab that disarms the reader, however momentarily. Then there is parent-child dynamic in the current cast revealed. With the reader distracted like this, a sudden onslaught is unleashed in the chapters following. An onslaught of flashbacks, a whole host of neutral interactions the phantom is shown having, both in past and present. Neutral interactions, which on its own is quite a feat. Considering how, well, despicable he can be, HAS been. How he has always been “the enemy” before. And yet we are given so many neutral interactions. Not positive per se. Just… neutral. But that alone is enough. And in Mirage in the teen flashbacks, we actually get to see someone from the phantom’s past who cares about him. As a person. There’s other little things too, like the aforementioned sort-of hobby revealed. The flow, the outpouring of all these little things just starts and it does not stop. It will not stop. At the end of this fic, heading into the next one, we are already teetering on the edge of… Something. And it’s only going to increase in volume, become more palpable, grow stronger from here on out.

There’s also little scattered things here as well, like the phantom looking out for Bobby in his own way. And the mask… the mask that is not like the others. I feel that there have been many, many narrative sleights of hand that have come into play, subtle enough that it makes them difficult to document. And I can’t document them all, because there’s just so many.

And then in the epilogue, the bone sliver gets revealed, and it’s like HMM… HMMMM… Food for thought, folks. Food for thought!

…Oh and I forgot to comment on this under the appropriate chapter’s banner, but uh, I absolutely loved Bobby’s whole “call him back in fifteen minutes” exchange with Simon xDDD.

So that looks like Haunted Specters pretty much wrapped up, I think. Vanquishing Mirages up next!

[moistwithgender]

Monthly Media Roundup (April 2019)

April was a bit of a disaster month for me, and as such I didn’t get much of anything finished. Old wounds got reopened, I was sick all month, I had an unavoidably bad birthday, and a lifelong pet died. I didn’t engage with a lot of things, and mostly slept. I did play a lot of Breath of the Wild, but seeing as I didn’t finish that, I’m not including it yet. Here’s the things I did finish:

Games:

Blaster Master Zero (Switch): I actually first bought and finished this two years ago, and since the sequel has come out I decided to replay it with the Shovel Knight DLC character. While I genuinely like this game (I 100%’d it both times), I was not really in a good spot to enjoy this playthrough, and just kinda mindlessly pushed through it for nine consecutive hours, beating it in that single sitting. Playing as a DLC character removes the story, which is fine since they’re intended for replays, though I wonder if it added to my emotional disconnect. SK doesn’t receive fall damage, and so the precariousness of navigating the world outside of the highly-mobile tank doesn’t exist nearly as much, though the trade-off is that SK’s combat abilities in dungeons are hindered by an overall lack of range. The game is still rather easy, though, so I can’t say any particular level cadences or combat scenarios carved their way into my memory.

To the game’s credit, though, the things that are good about it are still good. If you have an attachment to the original NES game, or an interest in retro properties, or just want a nice, breezy platformer, it’s very good. It’s interesting in how it repurposes the altered plot of the US version of the original game (where it was its most popular), including even the plot of the little novelization that came out because Gotta Get Those Video Game Kids to Read Something. It has a fake out ending, and if you 100% the maps it unlocks a final map that is genuinely surreal enough to be the highlight of the game. Despite my sighing, it is a genuinely good time, and I’m very curious to play the new game, somewhat hilariously titled Blaster Master Zero 2.

Anime:

That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime: I chewed through the last four episodes of this so that I could say I finally finished the season. I didn’t watch the post-season recap episode. TenSura (the abbreviation of the Japanese title, which I will use to refer to it because satisfyingly abbreviating the english title is impossible) is not a very good show, but for about half the length of the 24-episode first season, it fascinates due to how it functions at all. TenSura is an isekai show, much like the other isekai shows, where a person dissatisfied with their life is brutally murdered (usually by a truck. USUALLY by a truck) and is reborn in a fantasy world that coincidentally gives them an absurd advantage over other people, allowing them to live out all the decadence they felt they deserved in the real world. If this sounds like the most boring kind of wish fulfillment possible to you, that’s because it is. It’s also extremely popular with consumers. Which is interesting! I think the isekai boom is indicative of how late-stage capitalism everyday people the world over, that we envision or escape to worlds where your efforts actually return appropriate reward. A bonkers concept, to be sure.

In TenSura, the formula doesn’t stray much. The main character is a man in his 30s (?) who has never fucked and gets knifed to death while HEROICALLY saving a coworker from a plot-irrelevant stabber dude who was running down the sidewalk with his knife out for no reason besides Main Character Needs an Inciting Incident Now. It’s actually pretty weirdly violent for the start to a show that is almost entirely light-hearted. Dude dies, his coworker dumps his hard drive in the bath out of respect (lol), and he wakes up in a fantasy world that works on videogame logic, including loot, skill trees, and class upgrades. He is reborn as an adorable slime a la Dragon Quest, but the personality traits he had in his previous life (and I guess his choice of dying words) scan to obscenely convenient passive abilities that ensure he’s not only invincible, but will never stop experiencing exponential power growth. Also he immediately makes friends with a final boss-level dragon and then eats him. That’s how he makes friends in this sometimes.

I’m being very cynical here, but the core narrative loop (and it IS a loop) of the series kept my interest for longer than I expected. Rimuru (the name of the reborn protagonist) goes somewhere he hasn’t been, astonishes the nearby (sometimes violent) inhabitants with his overpowered abilities, makes friends with them, and then improves their lives with community. Goblins, direwolves, orcs, demon lords. It stacks and builds upon itself to absurd degrees but it’s interesting that in a genre loaded with very problematic stories of disenchanted dudes finally getting the underage harem they’ve always wanted (aaaaAAAAAAAAA) that the main concept of this series is improving the lives of others and giving them closure for the ways life has hurt them. Even if. Sometimes that hurt was the main character’s doing? Like Rimuru absolutely decapitates a direwolf leader and then adopts the pack who from then on absolutely LOVE the dude. Also one of Rimuru’s abilities is that if he gives a monster a name, it class upgrades, which is generally and reasonably seen as a life improvement. Though, these class upgrades are almost always decidedly “less-tribal” or outright human, which smacks of some imperialist thinking. It’s also something I’m sure I never questioned in old videogames growing up. Meanwhile, there’s also a bit with a woman who came from Japan during that one really bad war, you know the one, and the closure she’s given as she’s dying is handled with actual delicacy. It’s a weird series! It’s only a shame to me that after most of the first season, there was less to talk about. Sometime after the halfway mark, you realize the show is never going to maintain tension for more than half an episode, that all problems are solvable (yes, even terminally ill children), and that the show isn’t going anywhere you can’t predict. It’s a checklist show, and the plot points are a list of achievements being checked off one episode at a time.

I don’t think I would actually recommend the show to most people, despite how popular it is. It’s not a great show, but it does weird enough things for a while that it generates conversations. Which is honestly pretty okay. It’s a pretty okay show. Also, Rimuru is effectively nonbinary (with he pronouns), and that’s… somethin’! (24 episodes, finished 4/17/19, Crunchyroll (Funimation also now has the dub I think? Clips I saw were pretty weird, Rimuru seemed to be characterized differently.))

Manga:

Nejimaki Kagyu Vol 1: You would think a manga that immediately starts with a reference to Phantom Blood would be, well, at least interesting.

Okay maybe invoking a beloved work doesn’t actually mean anything. I just wanted to share this blatant callback. Nejimaki Kagyu is a seinen manga about a highschool teacher whose tragically cursed to, uh, have all teenage girls fall in love with him. And the highschool-age childhood friend of his who has spent her whole life obsessed with him and learning super martial arts to defend his chastity. Her supers make her clothes explode.

…

I take no joy in this travesty.

Anyway, uh. The biggest tragedy here is that the art is actually really good, though the paneling is regularly squished around to hilarious degree. Let’s look at some pages and then forget this manga exists forever.

That horror face is how I feel the entire series should be portraying itself. The manga has a distinct lack of self-awareness.

The fan translation for this series appears to have dropped off halfway through and hasn’t been picked up for years, and based on reviews I saw on MAL talking about the directionlessness of the later volumes, I wonder if the translator got fed up with the series. Oh well!

Kyou no Asuka Show Vol 1: Oh god damn it I just got done with talking about a series about ogling the youth.

BLEASE STOP

Okay so. Kyou no Asuka Show, or “Today’s Asuka Show” is an older slice of life manga by the same author I mentioned previously who is doing an edutainment series about people working in a condom factory. Innocently-minded women in comedically lewdish situations appears to be his whole bag. I think Asuka is pretty charming, but I also know she’s designed to appeal to my monkey male gaze. Obliviously sexy is very much a mood, and in a more adult context I would be all for it. There have been a few chapters where I find myself at odds with the wisdom the author is attempting to impart, sometimes through Asuka’s father, who works as an adult photographer, and doesn’t want his daughter involved in anything that could cause her to be ogled. Like, that’s already something that requires a lot of unpacking in the modern day. Aforementioned wisdom sometimes takes the form of Asuka doing something stupid and innocent and ripe for objectifying, like wearing a school swimsuit in a rainstorm. Or she’ll work a job as a cute girl courier and inadvertently turn a shut-ins life around. Situations where, if it were in real life, I’d think “wow that’s weird and charming,” but by being a work of intentional authorship, it inherently loses some of that innocence, and becomes something well-meaning but problematic. Is that the second time I’ve used the word “problematic” in this post? Is this 2014?

I may continue reading this, but I really can’t recommend it to most people I know in 2019 without several disclaimers and also without probably getting some side eye. I think it’s worth a couple chapters to feel out what its doing before you decide whether you can siphon the charm from it, or would rather move on to something else.

Me enjoying myself when this manga tries to suddenly get up to some shit.

Blue Period Vol 1: This is the last thing on my list, because I don’t want to expand this list beyond the three mediums I’ve already assigned to it. Also, I actually finished this May 1st, but I wanted to talk about it now.

If I had the power to actually get people to engage with a specific work once per month, Blue Period would easily be the one I pick. That doesn’t mean as much when all the other things I finished this month were conflicted experiences, but I really think everyone would benefit from this series. Or at least anyone with even a passing interest in visual arts.

Blue Period (named for Picasso’s Blue Period) is about a highschool delinquent who has a knack for studying, a safe social life, and no interests in pretty much anything. He’s on the road to do fine in his life, and he doesn’t question it much, but that’s it, until he discovers art and realizes it’s the only way he’s ever been able to truly communicate his feelings. It changes everything about him, for more emotionally satisfying reasons, but also riskier ones. He only has one year of highschool to go to decide what he’s doing with his life, and Japan has a very strict education system. You’re not really allowed to just “get around” to things.

Apologies in advance if you’re tired of me spamming full pages but I really do wanna show this off. This is another series with an educational angle to it, though the emphasis is definitely more rooted in a personal narrative of growth. The explanations of art practice and the functionality of exercises and tools are both very informative and relevant to the characters, never feeling like the story is taking a backseat to explain. The characters are, hilariously, everyone I’ve ever met in an art class. There’s the kid who would rather exclusively draw the things they like, there’s the kid who likes art as a hobby but haaaates being given a project, etc etc. There are students who have an innate grasp on how to draw but haven’t internalized the Why of the exercises, and students who are receptive to the lessons but don’t have the ability to match. The narrative is extremely even-handed towards all of these different levels of skills, and places a lot more importance on why, emotionally, you should totally care about drawing apples and water pitchers for five hours at a time. It’s GREAT and I want to force it on every creative I’ve ever known.

Another thing I appreciate about this series so far is that while there has been something resembling sexual/romantic tension, it’s kind of not like that at all? In the first volume I haven’t been able to pinpoint where a potential relationship subplot would go, if at all. Two possibilities are this girl:

...who is a very likable character but surprisingly doesn’t fit into that box of “standard love interest”. The protag’s interactions with her have been exclusively respectful and admiring, which doesn’t even necessarily imply a romantic subplot, but would be pretty cool if it did? And the other girl:

...who is featured in decidedly more sexual tension-y contexts, is actually TRANS. The manga actually portrays them so uncompromisingly feminine that I didn’t realize they were crossdressing (the term used in the text) until the author’s notes at the end of the volume. I will partially blame this on me being out of it this month, since I just went back to their introduction and yep, they got misgendered and contested it. Given how the character is regularly framed (confident, attractive, skilled, nonstereotypical), I’m… pretty okay with this! If a romance blooms between a delinquent boy and a trans girl, that’s amazing.

I hope y’all understand where I’m coming from in expecting a shoehorned romantic subplot. I’m not hoping for one, I just know the product by now. And if it happens, the options are considerably more interesting than usual.

These are pretty good kids.

Manga licensing is a lot better nowadays than it ever was before, with lots of obscure series being picked up, old series getting re-localized, and translations being better than ever. I really really want this series to get licensed so someone can be compensated for it, and so more people might read it. Until then, I think you should look up the fan work.

---

So that’s all for April. If these posts included live-action movies, I’d have talked about Endgame, but I also don’t want to go spoiling anything for someone who still wants to go see that (it’s probably one of my favorite MCU movies, though). I read most of 1970-71 in Marvel comics, or at least most of the issues on my reading list, but I semi-liveblog about those, so you can just search my “curry reads comics” tag for that. Here’s hoping I have more interesting, more positive things to say about May in a month. I expect to finish Breath of the Wild by then, so I’ll finally talk about that. Thanks for reading, if you made it this far! Go check out Blue Period.

[shirtlesssammy]

13x16: Scoobynatural

We now return to The Killer Stuffed Dinosaur in Love:

Remember when we were all speculating that there were going to be dinosaurs on Supernatural this season? Well, here you go.

Sam and Dean quickly dispatch the evil plushie with holy oil and fire. Jay, the shop owner next door pops in to see what all the ruckus is. “Defective product,” Sam admits dismissively. The shop proprietor, Alan, is so thankful that he offers the brothers “anything” they want in return. Dean nabs a sweet -but delicate- flat screen TV.

Later at the bunker, Sam’s busy doing research when Dean shows up to show him “something important.” Very Important! Sidenote: Dean Winchester has now admitted to watching (and liking!) Finding Nemo (and most certainly it’s sequel) and Frozen.

Dean takes Sam to his new “Dean Cave” or “Fortress of Dean-a-tude.” He’s still working on the name.

I am thoroughly enjoying the analysis of what the names mean —Dean thinks of himself as Batman and thinks of Cas as Superman. It’s their Man Cave together! How did Dean get all this stuff together without Sam’s help? Cas! It’s their Man Cave! Who has canonically watched movies together? Dean and Cas! It’s their Man Cave!

Dean shows Sam around and finally turns on his new TV. It flashes purple and zaps the boys into cartoon-land! As is the usual with these two, Sam is confused, concerned, and wants to solve the situation right away. Dean’s just ready to roll with it. After some truly amazing speculation about whether it is the work of the Trickster, they jump in Baby and drive.

They arrive at a malt shop, and see the Mystery Machine, quickly realizing that they’re in a Scooby-Doo cartoon!

They go inside and Dean sees the Scooby gang immediately.

Sam continues to be skeptical of the situation, but Dean defends his favorite childhood character. All those years on the road, no matter what motel their dad dragged them to, Dean was sure to find Scooby and the gang waiting on the TV. Dean asks to join them, and Fred enthusiastically agrees. (Pure. Good.)

The gang tells Sam and Dean that Scooby was recently named heir by an southern colonel. Scooby saved his life once. They all agree to head to the mansion together. Before heading out, Dean fulfills a dream 8 years in the making: he finally got a bigger mouth. And before reaching the mansion, Dean has a confusing Rebel Without a Cause moment with Fred over how much of a crush Dean has on him who’s car is faster. Fred wins.

Once at the mansion, Dean realizes they’re in the episode, “A Night of Fright is No Delight”!

Inside, the colonel’s attorney, Cosgood Creeps, explains why they’re all there and plays a vinyl record(!) from the deceased Colonel Sanders (Sam’s bitchface and grunt WAS AMAZING. Also, did the showrunners just decide to dress Asmodeus like that for a throwaway joke that would have worked even without it?)

The colonel’s last will and testament stipulates that everyone must spend one night in this haunted house to get their inheritance. Sam calls bullshit. LOL-- he is just the best. Velma assures Sam that the house isn’t really haunted, and Dean stops Sam from telling her that she’s in a “c-word”. “They are pure, and innocent, and good.” --Man, how Dean lands that line kind of breaks me a little inside. I just can’t imagine how many times he watched this show as a kid wishing he was in their world --where the monsters all were men in masks. They gave him an escape and hope when he had none of that in his world. Then Sam asks why they can’t just skip to the end of the episode if Dean’s seen it already. “Because sometimes it’s about the journey and not the destination.” Boy do hyperfans (Boris included) feel called out right about now

Everyone turns in for the evening. Dean tries bunking with Daphne, but things take a turn for the gay when Daphne bunks with Velma and Fred tells Dean, “Guess you’re with me slugger.”

They all head to bed. Dean finds some more than suitable sleepwear.

Once everyone else is asleep, Dean gets to eating, and Sam wonders if there’s more to be done. Dean assures him of the play-by-play. Soon enough there’s a commotion and they all head out to investigate. They find Cousin Simple dead.

*Classic Dialog Alert*

Velma: Jinkies!

Daphne: Jeepers!

Scaggy: Zoinks!

Scooby: Ruh-roh!

Dean: Son of a bitch!

Commercial break, and when we return all the characters are back in their regular clothes. Heehee. Fred is flippantly joyful about having a new mystery to solve. Sam is understandably upset. Dean acts upset to impress Daphne (eye roll, Dean.) They head out to investigate.

Dean and Sam come to some hard truths about their situation --things are real, people can really die, --and for Dean-- Scooby-Doo can die, and that’s not happening on his watch.

Back in the drawing room, the team tries to figure out the bigger picture of what’s going on. Velma logics them through the situation, all the while lightning flashes and the lights flicker out --and a mysterious figure approaches the window!

It’s Cas!

He meets the Scooby gang and explains to the brothers how he came back to the bunker, with fruit from the tree of life and technically married to some djinns’ queen. Lol. He quickly finds Dean’s new playroom (because he already knew about it!) and gets zapped into Scooby-land.

The room suddenly gets cold so the team heads out to investigate (again). A ghost appears and Fred tries saving the day but the spirit disappears. They enter the room from where the ghost came to find Cosgood Creeps horrifically dismembered. Dean wants to barf. Fred and the gang wander off indifferent. Sam calls bullshit.

Fred suggests everyone split up to search for clues. Dean pairs with Daphne (and Fred!), and Velma picks Sam, so poor Castiel is left with “a scruffy philistine and a talking dog.”

Velma and Sam head upstairs to investigate the attic while Velma very, very awkwardly flirts. “Why do you keep talking about my shoulders?” Sam asks. Sam. Please.

Sam gets scared by a mannequin, then brushes himself off and tells Velma that ghosts and all other kinds of supernatural things are real. Velma laughs at that foolish, foolish, broad shouldered man. Usually ghosts just turn out to be unscrupulous real estate developers. They find the fluids Velma was looking for, which Sam identifies as ectoplasm. Suddenly toys start levitating and attacking the two. “It's probably just Christmas lights and fishing line,” she protests while getting pelted with glowing blocks.

Speaking of awkward flirting, Dean asks Daphne about her taste in men while Fred investigates the library. “Strong, sincere, and an ascot wouldn't hurt.” LOL so specific. Dean pulls himself together long enough to notice a book that stands out because it isn't “painted into the background.” He pulls it and nothing happens at first. Then a trapdoor suddenly opens and they all plummet down three divergent slides into the...dungeon of the mansion? There, Dean forgets about consent (ew Dean) and tries to feel up Daphne. When the lights turn on, he finds that he's been sliding his hand up the thigh of...the ghost! Serves him right, I guess? With the rest of this episode in context just don’t...think about this moment too much, okay?

They run off.

Meanwhile, Cas, Shaggy, and Scooby are creeping through the house when the ghost confronts them. Cas raises his eyebrow, ready to study the ghost intently when it chases after him. And then we get something perfect and pure. We get a Scooby chase montage. Over the sweet strains of the Scooby Doo theme song, everyone runs around and wacky hijinks ensue.

They run to and fro, the ghost appears here and there, and we even see Scrappy Doo (which shouldn't make me happy but it DOES).

They end up barricading themselves in a grand bedroom. The room grows cold. The lights flicker. And the ghost bursts into the room. Fred charges the ghost and gets bashed into the wall. Velma and Daphne get magically pinned to a wall. Shaggy gets tossed from the room. Dean and Sam grab a pair of iron candlesticks to chase off the ghost. Fred awakens to...mortality.

Shaggy plunges off the balcony, falling towards his doom when Scooby launches himself after him. Scooby grabs onto Shaggy but now they're just both falling towards their horrible, cartoon death. Cas leaps into action. He jumps from the balcony and shoots through the air. When he catches hold of Scooby he uses the cartoon aerodynamic properties of his coat to give them lift and a gentler landing. Guys, this was seriously...sexy?

Uh. Anyway.

Shaggy broke his arm and this makes him extremely indignant. “I have jumped out of a biplane in a museum and was fine! How did this happen?” Sam and Dean decide to reveal the truth. The Scooby gang learns that the ghost is real, the supernatural is real... The gang then goes into a total breakdown.

Velma: “I thought I was blind without my glasses. But I was just blind.”

Fred: “We've been stopping real estate developers when we could have been hunting dracula?!”

Daphne: “AM I GOING TO HELL?”

Shaggy: “We told you every freaking time, but did you ever listen to me?”

Scooby: “We're doomed.”

Dean rallies the troops. They've fought monsters – even if they were human monsters. “You're heroes, and together we're gonna take down this phantom.”

They fret about their lack of weapons. To the Impala! But Dean refuses to give them weapons. (Because they are childhood and innocence and I’m just going to cry in this corner here.) Instead Fred builds a trap. It's an elaborate rube-goldberg style trap involving salt, iron chains, a soap-slicked slide, and a giant net of coconuts. It's DELIGHTFUL. Alas, Fred's trap fails, sending Cas, Scooby, and Shaggy into a washing machine. “I told you it wasn't going to work,” Sam complains. Dean tells him Fred's traps never work (LOL) and calls on Daphne to commence plan B. They lure the ghost down to the library and then pull the special book, dropping the ghost into the dungeon and directly into a salt circle.

How badass is this salt circle? So badass.

Anyway, Dean demands that the ghost reveal itself and it turns into a small child. The little boy curls up in a ball and tells them that Jay, the creepy real estate mogul at the pawn shop, has been using him to scare away business owners. Dean promises to set him free and the little ghost boy literally glows with happiness. I didn’t come here for FEELINGS!!! (That’s a lie. I did.) The Scooby gang continues to unravel and Dean asks the little boy for a favor.

Cut to the Scooby gang bursting in to find the Winchesters and Cas with a trussed up...something. The Winchesters tell them that there isn't a real ghost. Instead, it's Cosgood! Of course, it all makes sense now. Wires. Lights. Etcetera. Velma and the rest rationalize their experience with a little help from the Winchesters. With the Scoobies mentally set to rights again, everyone takes their leave.

Velma kisses Sam goodbye. “Always the quiet ones,” Dean notes. When the Scoobies leave, the little ghost boy zaps them all out of the TV again. Back in the real world, Dean smashes the TV and fishes the pocket knife out of the wreckage. The little boy appears, this time as a real ghost boy. They burn the knife with reverence and the boy dissolves into light.

This was beautiful and sad. Well done.

Later, Jay is in front of the pawn shop owner about to get him to sign over his shop when the Winchesters burst in. Dean's wearing...an ascot. They confront Jay who finally owns up to his nefarious deeds. They can't nail him on “ghost terrorism” but they do get him for tax fraud. “I would have gotten away with it if it wasn't for those meddling kids,” he grouses.

Yaaay! With the case wrapped up, Dean cements his nerdiness by saying “Scooby dooby doo!” into the camera, despite the side eye from Cas and Sam.

What. A. Delight.

Boris: I have watched this episode 4 times already, and I even made my sister, who’s not a Supernatural fan, watch it with me. She knows enough about Supernatural to blurt out, “It’s Cas!” when Cas showed up. It warmed my heart she said that --and that he was included in this episode. Sidenote: Does Sam have some of his own performing that he needs to let go? His practical resistance to the whole situation was humorous, but what if he had just admitted to remembering and liking Scooby enough to enjoy the ride? Oh, Sam.

Quotey Snacks:

Be like Elsa. Let it go.

When it's important you make time, Sammy.

Cas is kinda like a talking dog.

There are no words in this newspaper, Dean.

Oh, Dean. Boys and girls don't sleep in the same room, silly.

Well, gang. It looks like we've got another mystery on our hands!

We should look for evidence. Like fingerprints. Or fluids!

Killer stuffed dinosaur in love.

G-g-g-g-g-g-ghost!

I will miss your wise words and your gentle spirits.

Except Fred, he’s a wad.

“How do I look?” “Two dimensional.”

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

[theraistlinmajere]

THE “”GOTHIC”” REC LIST

Edited for my own use.

LET’S START WITH THE GATEWAY DRUG BOOK

1. Flowers in the Attic (VC Andrews): Published in 1979 and technically considered contemporary Gothic. The style closely resembles a lot of “original” Gothic fiction I’ve read, but the themes, story arc and style are distinctly contemporary and very psychological. Gets a bad rap because it’s over the top insane and averagely written (which most Gothic is, tbh). Flowers is light reading, and I think it’s a good gateway drug into heavier Gothic. Has several sequels but stands alone as well. I wish I could call this Victorian-inspired Gothic but honestly it’s just knockoff Victorian in a contemporary setting. If you don’t enjoy this book, it probably means you don’t like the over the top insanity and average writing. Skip it if you like!

1.5. But if you do like it, I hear My Sweet Audrina is pretty good. All of VC Andrews and her ghostwriters are like a hellhole people sometimes don’t escape tbh it’s a raging aesthetic disaster down there.

Note: I have a strong suspicion that “contemporary” Gothic published between 1965 and 1989 will eventually have its own movement name; you will see a decent amount of it on this list.

THE VICTORIAN GOTHIC PART OF THE LIST Most of these are available for free online due to copyright law being born late or whatever. 2. Carmilla (Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu): Considered the first English vampire story (Germans invented the European vampire allegedly), and published in 187…9? 1871? Something like that. A novella. Arguably a same-sex romance (VERY arguably), but can also be read as a close friendship. The writing is good, but not the absolute greatest I’ve ever read. The real strong point here is the imagery and the dawn of the English vampire. Great Halloween read; I read it almost every autumn. 3. “The Trifecta,” according to Gothic fans: Dracula (Bram Stoker), Frankenstein (Shelley), and Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (Swift & Stevenson): First mainstream vampire, original English monster movie fuel, and the dawn of psychological fiction. Shelley’s the best writer out of all of them but she’s a Romantic and I’m sort of biased against Romantics. She’s a precursor to true Victorian Gothic. Dracula is still one of the creepiest books I’ve ever read and it’s the only one in the trifecta I really really love (and finished).

Note: If, by any chance, you find yourself seriously obsessed with vampires at any point in time, please consult me for an extended list of vampire fiction because I have a shit-ton of it in my reading history and left most of it out so vampires wouldn’t clutter this list lmao.

4. Edgar Allan Poe, Completed Works. The Cask of Amontillado, The Masque of the Red Death, The Pit and the Pendulum, and The Tell-Tale Heart are all notable. His poetry is lovely–Annabelle Lee and The Raven are most culturally significant. Just solid and wonderful work that I like a lot but haven’t explored in a lot of detail. Will appeal to your interest in darkness imagery.

5. The Legend of Sleepy Hollow and Other Stories (Washington Irving): QUINTESSENTIAL HALLOWEEN READING. SPOOPY. WONDERFUL. I truly love this anthology. Will also appeal to your interest in darkness as a concept and a physical thing. 6. Nightmare Abbey (Thomas Love Peacock): an 1818 novel that makes fun of the Victorian Gothic movement. Hilarious, contains all the typical Victorian Gothic tropes and has the added benefit of actually falling into the Victorian Gothic movement ironically. Usually comes packaged with another novel called Crotchet Castle which is similar. 7. If, somehow, you haven’t had it with Victorian Gothic yet (and I got to this point, it happens, Victorian Gothic is a slippery slope)… Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell (Susanna Clarke): A really bizarre story behind how this was published, at least it is to me. Published in 2004, Over 10 years in the making and is written in the Victorian Gothic style but with a quirky and modern twist. The writer takes a page out of contemporary social commentary and includes pages-long footnotes, heads up (they’re funny and entertaining though). HUGE. You could kill a man with this volume. Excellent writing; I’m halfway through. I hear there’s time travel (?) and there are about ten thousand characters. Neil Gaiman is a fan. 8. The Phantom of the Opera (Gaston Leroux) is not technically Victorian (Technically Edwardian? Also French; I’m not familiar with French literary eras) but of course it has a huge following. I’ve read a little so far; I like the style and I think it’s culturally significant. You might want to read this because it’s heavily inspired by a French opera house, the Palais Garnier in Paris. Amber tells me she read literature in French to help sharpen her skills in the language; you may consider picking up an un-translated version of this? A BRIEF INTERLUDE FOR MORE CONTEMPORARY 9. Interview with the Vampire (Anne Rice): One of my favorite books of all time! Possibly the dawn of the romanticized vampire. Falls into that 70s contemporary Gothic bracket and is pretty amazingly written, but markedly more angst-ridden than anything else on the list (save for maybe Flowers). Lots of “what is evil?” and “what does immortality imply?” type speculation. Also gets a bad rap because Anne Rice made it big and haters are rife tbh it’s a very solidly built book in my opinion (BUT SUPER EMOTIONAL VAMPIRES). If you like this, continue with The Vampire Chronicles (The Vampire Lestat, Queen of the Damned, Prince Lestat, and about 8 others in between that concern minor characters). Lestat is one of my favorite fictional characters of all time. 10. Coraline (Neil Gaiman): Quick, cute, I found myself actually afraid for a little while despite the audience being middle grade readers?? I enjoyed it. The only Neil Gaiman on the list because his other work doesn’t impress me very much. 11. The Spiderwick Chronicles (Holly Black and Tony Diterlizzi): More middle-grade creepy aesthetic stuff. Cute modern fantasy stories, five volumes. I can read these books at twenty years old and still enjoy them (like Coraline)! The only good thing Holly Black has ever produced, in my opinion, though many people like her and her ~aesthetic.

11.5. Should you find yourself in the mood for more quick middle-grade aesthetic-y stuff, Pure Dead Magic (Debi Gliori) is really an adorable book with two sequels. Victorian Gothic tropes such as the creepy mansion, creatures in the dungeon, family drama, and Weird Newcomers are all present, but it’s set in modern times. One of the main characters is a hacker. Addams family-esque.

THE SURREAL-ISH FICTION PART OF THE LIST

Not true surreal fiction; these are contemporary surreal-inspired works. 12. The Bloody Chamber (Angela Carter): An anthology of short stories which retell fairy tales. Falls into the contemporary surrealism movement and is not traditionally considered Gothic, but this is definitely your aesthetic. Very quick read, very vivid imagery, lots of second-wave feminism and some brief eating disorder symbolism. Carter was a phenomenal writer! My favorite story is “The Lady of the House of Love"

12.5 (Just as a reminder since I’ve mentioned these) See also: Nights at the Circus (Carter) and Mechanique: A tale of the Circus Tresaulti (Valentine) for your interest in circus books!

13. The Palace of Curiosities (Rosie Garland), which I also rec’d before. Similar style to Chamber, similar themes. Both beautiful books. 14. Deathless (Catherynne Valente): Oh, Deathless. Technically contemporary lit, but hails to Russian Gothic (one of the earlier Gothic movements which I haven’t read much of). Retelling of about a million Russian folk tales. I could go on about this book for a thousand years. Stylistically similar to The Bloody Chamber as well, but far more poetic. (Very) structurally inferior to every other book on this list, but so heart-wrenchingly romantic you won’t notice or care on the first read. Visually breathtaking, absolutely the closest thing to death and the maiden imagery I’ve found in fiction. I’m fairly confident you’ll appreciate this one! Might as well read it to test my theory!! There’s controversy surrounding the fact that the writer is not Russian–something to be aware of. 15. The Enchanted (Rene Denfeld): TREAD WITH CAUTION. This is contemporary literary fiction (not Gothic) written from the pov of a death row inmate. Nominated for approximately a billion awards in 2014 (and won a few); high caliber of writing. Incredibly visceral, horrific, psychological imagery that was too much for me, though I still liked it. Short but dense–I had to take a two-day break to ward off the anxiety it caused. But you are darker~ than I so you might like it more!

THE SOUTHERN GOTHIC PART OF THE LIST 16. Beloved (Toni Morrison): Contemporary Southern Gothic. Incredibly creepy imagery, explores the connection between women’s issues and racial issues. Uses abortion and slavery as metaphors for each other. Gracefully written, but Southern Gothic (even contemporary) tends to be textually dense so it’s something to really think about as you read. 17. As I Lay Dying (Faulkner): “True” Southern Gothic. DENSE AS HELL but I think Beloved is a good precursor to Faulkner. A lot of almost comedic family drama, similar to Flowers in that sense, but very srs bsns nonetheless.

17.5. Basically all of Faulkner is considered Southern Gothic. He’s the father of Southern Gothic. If you enjoy this, you might also like Absalom! Absalom! and other such works. I loved As I Lay Dying but it’s possibly his easiest read, and while I love a good challenge I haven’t stepped up to this one yet.

Note: I use reading guides for all my classical works and Shakespeare, and I think there are good ones for Faulkner too, so that might be something to look into if you wanna vanish into this hell lol.

AN ADDENDUM: OTHER WRITERS

HP Lovecraft: Father of horror or whatever. Awful writer–anyone will agree. The guy had no command of language, but he’s known for over-the-top horror imagery that people really enjoy. Honestly I hate his writing so I haven’t bothered with much of it.

Oscar Wilde: If, by this point, you still want more Victorian-era writing, Wilde is here for you. Lots of social commentary, wrote basically one piece in the Gothic style (Chapter 16 of The Picture of Dorian Gray, my favorite novel), snarky as hell, incredibly gifted writer.

Neil Gaiman: Modern surreal in my opinion, sometimes called modern Gothic, well-loved and writes creepy things. I think he’s average because I’ve read too much Murakami (who does “modern surreal” way, way better) but many people really love him.

THE BLACKLIST Knockoff Gothic/Gothic themed things to avoid. I apologize if you like any of these okay ._.

The Grisha Trilogy (Leigh Bardugo): Contemporary YA, tries to be Russian Gothic and fails. Stick to Deathless. This book makes a mockery of Russian culture whereas at least Valente exhaustively researched her novel. Also doesn’t do romance very well.

The Night Circus (Morgenstern): What the hell is this book, tbh. 400 pages of obtuse and cliched imagery which you don’t have time for in your life. No plot. Two-dimensional characters, bad writing.

Those Across The River (Christopher Buehlman): Terrible. Just terrible.

[cannedapricot]

Murder Mystery Party! Wanna One

happy late halloween!! here’s a halloween special, murder mystery party! wanna one for you all!!

welcome to the annual murder mystery party held every halloween

it’s a tradition you see

every student on campus is invited

and everyone apart from the victim is a suspect

but the thing is, nobody actually knows who the host is

rumor has it that the original host actually died one night and others have been keeping the tradition alive

but people also say that the host changes every year and is decided by lottery

every student receives a invitation a month before the 31st

so y’all have enough time to get a costume together lol

the envelope always matches the theme of the party

last year, it was a simple, slick black, matching the theme of a classy work dinner kinda party

included in the envelope was a wad of paper

containing everything you needed to know about your character and if they were the murderer or not

or if they were the person flopping to the floor dramatically and dying rip

but of course

this is all fictional and done for fun

or is it????? ???? ? 👀👀👀👀👀

this year, as usual, you received an invitation on september 30

this year though, the envelope was decorated in victorian accents 

in gold lettering, the first piece of paper read,

“you are hereby invited to the biggest victorian masquerade party of the year”

you already want to skip the party this year lma o

victORIAN CLOTHING IS EXPENSIVE. EVEN IF YOU’RE RENTING OK

ALSO A MASK????

LOOKS SADLY AT BANK ACCOUNT

but guess what!!!

minhyun and jaehwan ain’t having none of that!!!

again,,,, but loOK, IN MY DEFENSE,,, MINHWAN ARE BFF GOALS

the two drag you along with them to rent costumes

with you throwing a tantrum like a six year old on the way

“buT IT’S SO EXPENSIVE I CAN BARELY AFFORD TO E A T”

“oops the wind’s too loud, what’d you say?”

“tHe WiNd’S tOo LoUd. THERE’S NO WIND JAEHWAN”

so you settle for pouting

art student! baejin happily agreed to make masks for all twelve of you so that’s some money saved lol

you wince looking at the price tags

“300 foR A MONTH????? ARE YOU K I D D I N G M E”

stOPS BREATHING FOR A SHORT SECOND

bitCH YOU ARE SKIPPING THIS DUMB ASS PARTY--

“y/n where do you think you’re going??”

minhyun caught you by the hood of your hoodie

shIT

YOUR GREAT ESCAPE PLAN WAS FOULED BY NONE OTHER THAN THE GREAT EMPEROR HWANG

angrily puffs

the three of you are just as poor as each other

so you guys end up renting the cheapest three 

but of course, minhwan look 10/10

you’RE STUNNING AS WELL THOUGH

“yes y/n, step on me”

“i- what the fuck”

looking at other people’s character’s info was strictly against the rules 

you’d be uninvited every year from then on if you’re caught

but you were able to ask others about theirs 

cause it’s up to you to decide if they’re lying about it or not

and that’s what minhwan cautiously asks you on the way back to the dorms

“hey y/n, what’s your character this time?”

you

haven’t

really

looked 

at the info

and after renting the costume,,,,, yoU GOTTA MEMORIZE EVERYTHING ABOUT YOUR CHARACTER BEFORE THE PARTY

because well, taking out your info sheet at the party breaks the atmosphere

swEATS

“uH,,,, GUESS”

SONIC SPEEDS OFF

YOU WEREN’T GONNA LET THE TWO KNOW THAT YOU DON’T KNOW

BECAUSE HELL, JAEHWAN’S NEVER GONNA LET IT GO

EVEN IF IT WAS SOMETHING TINY LIKE THIS

so you SLAM your door open, stunning your dorm mate

CHUCK your rented costume on your bed

gently

because that thing was expensive as fuck

and FLIP out your character sheet

you were the child of a well known lord

and so you were in the middle upper class

you had an older brother who is SUPER protective of you

well, at least the sheet said

every character was unique and had different alibis

and murder motives

the host obviously has to spend all year on this lol

the victim was said to be a person in the higher level middle class (one of the only information about the victim given)

and so you were confused as to why you would be a suspect

why would someone in a higher social position murder someone lower??

a sigh of relief left your lips as you realize you’re not the real murderer

you sucked at lying

but you were a suspect due to the fact that you knew the victim since you guys were children and the two of you were sworn enemies

not the “oh my god i hate you but i also love you” kind

but the “fucKING HELL I ACTUALLY HATE YOU WITH ALL MY SOUL” kind

as you two grew up, you got mature,,,, but they got worse

you overheard something about the victim wanting to assault your father

anD SO YOU WERE SUSPECTED DUE TO THIS

BECAUSE EVERYONE WOULD THINK THAT YOU HAD TO KILL THEM BEFORE THEY KILL YOUR DAD

huffs

this would be a tough character to pull off

especially since the victim has plans to kill your father

that’s a strong motive

your dormmate willingly tells you that they’re a part of the working class

you hum in response

your gut feeling telling you to not show up at the party at all

buT YOUR MIND IS TELLING YOU TO GO BECAUSE YOUR WALLET IS HAVING A BREAKDOWN DUE TO THE STUPID COSTUME

so that’s what you do

on the 31st, you’re getting ready with your dormmate

and you receive a text from seongwoo as you’re fixing your mask

which, by the way, is also stunning. art student! baejin is talent itself

“hey, i apparently have a younger sibling and i’m asking everyone but they say that they don’t have no sibling. you’re my last hope y/N ARE YOU MY LONG LOST SIBLING”

you lowkey wanna reply with “fuck off”  but you reply saying that you, do, indeed have an older bro and that you two are not long lost siblings

“yUS IM POSITIVE ITS U, ARE U A CHILD OF SOME LORD???”

“yea”

“oKAY Y/N YOU CUTE LIL SIBLING, BIG BRO WILL PRO T E C T YOU”

flashbacks to haunted house pat timer! ong seongwoo

the info sheet said protective older bro but ong can’t wait for you to get a s/o lmao protective my ass

with a roll of your eyes, you head towards the party with your dormmate

WHICH WAS HELD IN SOME FANCY, EXPENSIVE HOTEL

it was already packed by the time you got there

you couldn’t tell who was w ho

the masks were throwing you off

your dormmate disappears off to the “kitchens” as she was a working maid

the host of the fake masquerade party (not the real host, the person whose character is the host in the script) was wearing a beautiful royal blue mask and was heading your way

you lowkey panic™

humaN INTERACTION???? ALREADY????

“hello, i’m your humble host today, lee daehwi”

“ohMYGOD DA E H W I”

“who is this--”

you pull him into a HUGE hug

“iT’S Y/N YO”

“yOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BREAK CHARACTER FOR THE FIRST HOUR Y/N GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER”

“oH FUCK i mean hi!! i’m y/n,,,,”

swEATS 

“HOW DO PEOPLE INTRODUCE THEMSELF IN THIS ERA??” 

you whisper

“IDK I’M JUST GOING AROUND SAYING THAT I’M THE HOST”

he whispers back

YOU SCREAM INSIDE

“what are you supposed to be though??” you ask daehwi, looking at his costume

“i’m an earl,,,, i have no idea what an earl is but i mean,,, i get throw parties so,,,, it’s high in the hierarchy right?”

do earls throw parties i have no idea i can’t remember anything from black butler

you ask where the other guys were and so daehwi leads you to them without hesitation 

“lIL SIB!!!111!!11!111″

fuck

its “protective” sibling seongwoo!!

“lmao let go seongwoo” duke! daniel says

seongwoo pouts

the boys tell you their identities one by one as requested from you!

jisung and minhyun were barons, sungwoon’s a country farmer, seongwoo was of course the son of a lord, jaehwan was a duke along with daniel, jihoon and woojin were thieves (phantom thief! au anyone? 👀), baejin was a knight, daehwi was an earl and guanlin....

“you guys have it all good buT I’M A BUTLER???? HELLO???”

y'all burst into laughter

the party was gREAT

THE BUNCH OF YOU BASICALLY HUNG AROUND THE SNACK TABLE THE WHOLE PARTY

UNTIL YOU WERE ALLOWED TO BREAK CHARACTER AND DANCE LINE MADE A BEELINE FOR THE DANCE FLOOR

then it neared midnight

and everyone was wondering when someone would flop dead

then it hit midnight exactly

and an arrow came flying in through the window

and hit someone on the chest

biTCH WHAT THE FUCK

THAT SCARED ME LOL

THAT MUST BE THE DEATH FOR THE NIGHT

and so y’all buzz over to the victim

buT

THE ARROW AND BLOOD LOOKS SO REALISTIC??

sungwoon mutters,

“that’s not real blood is it? why does it look so real this year”

seongwoo pushes through the crowd and sniffs the blood for sungwoon lol

expecting it to be fake

but his eyes popped wide when

“thiS SMELLS LIKE REAL BLOOD???”

HOLY SHIT

“IS SHE BREATHING???”

“NO???”

FUCK

ABANDON EVERYTHING

LEAVE THIS PLA C E

REAL MURDERER ON THE LOOSE

CALL THE COPS SDUGBISB

someone does but it was raining real hard and the traffic was screwed up due to some crash

it’s gonna take the cops ages to arrive

shIT Y’ALL SCREWED

Y’ALL AIN’T GOING OUT IN THE RAIN IN THE HEAVY ASS COSTUMES

UNI DORMS WERE MILES AWAY

ALSO THINK OF THE PRICE TO GET IT DRY CLEANED 

AND THE DEAD PERSON WAS EXPOSED AS THE REAL HOST OF THE MURDER MYSTERY PARTY

AS WELL AS THE MURDERER OF THE NIGHT

YOU WENT THROUGH HER POCKETS AND FOUND THE MASTERLIST OF WHO WAS WHO

SHIT

for safety reasons, the party goers decide to stay in clusters

and try find the real murderer so you guys can lock them up and make sure they’re not gonna kill anyone anytime soon

you melt into wanna one’s group

they don’t question you because y’all a cute group of friends

but you guys decide to start from finding where the arrow came from

so you guys head outside (with some shotty umbrellas jisung found)

and head towards the general direction the arrow came from

seongwoo and his extra ass climbs a tree to “observe” 

he stumbles upon this machine, timed for 12 on the dot

y’aLL GET GOOSEBUMPS

SEONGWOO’S GLOATING ABOUT IT ON THE WAY BACK INSIDE

“I’M SO TALENTED, I SHOULD BE A DETECTIVE”

“k”

back inside, you find the others cornering your dormmate

because they’re known for having a rivalry with the victim

but this is the “ oh my god i hate you but i also love you” kind of rivalry

the others didn’t know that though

you knew though

so you, being the hero you are, step in

wanna one trying to hold you back because

“stAY OUT OF TROUBLE Y/N”

“thAT’S DANGEROUS”

but you end up defending your dormmate anyways

it took a lot of persuasion on your part but

you didn’t do persuasive speeches for nothing during classes

and you end up successful 

jihoon stepped in at some point to help you but that wasn’t the point

and everyone continues their search

until woojin finds this rather big muddy footprint on the marble floor

which obviously could only be there if someone went outside during the party

it hadn’t rained when the party started

and it couldn’t be any of the w1 squad

it was a different shoe size than what the 12 of you were wearing

then everyone started comparing the bottom of their shoes lmAO

it was a mess

jisung couldn’t take it anymore and just screamed at everyone

“SHUT UP!!!!!!!!! LETS JUST COMPARE ONE BY ONE OK???”

and that’s what everyone did

they came up one by one next to the print and guanlin squinted at their facial expressions to find anyone looking like they’ve just killed anyone lol

this continued until there were only a few people left

and the killer broke from pressure

he admitted that he had committed the crime

if he was gonna be exposed soon anyways, might as well admit it himself

“i was supposed to be the victim tonight, but i was the victim last year, and the year before that! it’s not fair that everyone else but me gets to have fun. i found out who the host was through multiple sources and begged her to change me for another role. but she shot me down without hesitation. i asked her why,,,, but she just looked at me coldly and said that i was only suited to be the victim. i,,,, got angry and lost control,,,,, i planned this tonight. i’m so sorry.”

he said with his head down

daniel sighed as he moved to hold the dude’s arms to his sides

“such a shame", he tuts

anD CUE THE COPS WHO BASICALLY DID NOTHING

WEE WOO WEE WOO

they show up and the murderer away

needless to say, the campus tradition was no longer continued

no one wanted to attend ever again

“hey guys, are you going next year?”

“hELL NAH”

here’s the late halloween special!!! sweats in 2.3k words

you can tell that i tried to finish it on time by how rushed the ending was,,,,,, it’s not my best aaaaa likE THE KILLER BROKE UNDER PRESSURE????? IM SO SHIT AT THIS. I’LL STICK WITH CRINGEY FLUFF FROM NOW WHE E ZES

also, my search history is filled with searches about the victorian era dsbvisb