#and where the page should break and where one scene blends literally into another

[arcaneyouth]

being a comic writer and then going into writing spaces is weird and confusing. a lot of the time it's lots of people focused on fanfic. so i go oh cool this isn't for me, so i go to original writing spaces (harder to find. btw.) and they talk about their writing process and all these relatable writer things and i realize i'm not really a writer. my form of writing isn't right for this group. i write scripts with descriptions of how the pages should be laid out, what brush to use, panel breaks, page breaks, only dialogue, in a format not meant to be read by anyone besides me, because the real writing will happen when i draw the page, but then it's not writing it's drawing. i make stories in my head with camera angels, pacing between panels and pages, breaking the established rules of a comic to make something new, and i call daydreaming about this writing (it's not writing). and i'm not really a writer in the same way. so i go oh, ok, this isn't for me, and then i go to original comic writing spaces except that doesn't exist that's just webtoon and then i go home because webtoon is the bane of all creativity

[7to3sorcerer]

Of Waltzes and Sugar Plum Fairies

rating: explicit hehe

word count: 11.5k i am so sorry

warnings: fluff! angst! daddy!kink if you squint, loss of virginity, uhhhh sexy times? porn WITH plot because i can. this is truly filthy and totally self indulgent, enjoy at your own risk.

a/n: ok so first fic on here, yay! also, i recommend visiting this page to give you some context about Arkanians if you don’t know about them. idk if the nutcracker exists in star wars, so just go with it. listen to this if you wanna get immersed in the sounds of the dance scene.

ao3 link here

-

Din Djarin knew exactly what he was doing bringing her to Chandrila in the winter.

His princess - a literal one at that - from Arkanis, had missed the taste of home. Not in so many words, but he could tell by the wistful look on her face whenever they passed a shop with dancing gear or a music store.

He also knew that Life Day was her favorite holiday.

“It’s perfect,” she had said one day in the cockpit, her eyes starry as she watched the planets fly by. “You just spend the day with your family, dancing and eating and celebrating. Some cultures even give presents.”

He didn’t know what to say to that then, just gave a grunt and kept his eyes on the nav chart.

But since that day, he’s thought of what that would be like, spending a Life Day with his foundling and his crewmate who he wished would be so much more.

Ever since she dropped everything and ran off with him and the child, his life has been so much...brighter. Full of color when she skips around the ship, the child in her arms as they play dress up with her seemingly endless wardrobe (Din still doesn’t how she manages to keep her quarters clean). It’s full of sound when she plays her holorecords from her favorite ballets, the child following behind her as she does allégros and arabesques.

When she agreed to join his crew to take care of the child and give her extensive knowledge of cultures and history that she gleaned from university, he also made a pact: he would give her firsthand experiences of the galaxy that her life as a royal had robbed her of. 

Her first wish was to visit a cantina, a wish that was fulfilled within her first three days aboard the Razor Crest. Though the dingy, thin clothes she bought from a merchant blended her in well, her stark white hair, white eyes, and ethereal beauty caused a bar fight, one that may or may not have ended with Din breaking a man’s arm, simply because he looked at her suggestively.

In the year that she’d been traveling with him, he’d tried to accommodate her wishes as best as he could, but with the Empire constantly on their trail, their time had mostly been devoted to tracking down the child’s people. But it seemed that the galaxy was on his side for once.

Life Day was rapidly approaching, and Din was scrambling to try and make it special for her, and with the information that Bo-Katan had given them about Ahsoka Tano, Din was torn about what to do. That was, until he charted a path to Corvus and realized it sent them right by Chandrila - the dance capital of the galaxy. A couple of holonet searches later, and he found a showing of The Nutcracker.

He knew it’d make his princess happy, he just didn’t know how to tell her that there weren’t anymore tickets left. He wasn’t surprised really, after all, it was already Life Day Eve, and he knew The Nutcracker was wildly popular, even though it was a Wookiee ballet that was centuries old.

The rapid beeping of the proximity indicator dragged him out of his thoughts. He disengaged and the ship lurched into real time, the blue streaks of stars fading into black mottled with blinking white. He made up his mind in that moment. Squaring his shoulders, Din set the ship on autopilot and made his way down to the cargo hold.

Stopping in front of her room, he could hear giggles and her soft voice as she spoke to the child.

“...and then he transforms into a handsome prince, and leads Masha away into the forest!”

He hears the child giggle again, and can only assume they’re playing with the wooden toys she had crafted once while bored when Din was on a hunt.

Steeling himself, Din knocks.

“Hey, we’re landing...put on something...nice,” he says through the door. He moves to return to the cockpit when the door whooshes open, revealing the princess’s glowing smile.

“Why?” She asks, her eyes wide.

His hand itches to brush the wisps of hair that got displaced from her bun when the door opened.

“I um, I have a surprise,” he says tentatively, suddenly feeling unsure of himself. He shifts his weight as she turns to the child.

“You hear that? Daddy has a surprise for us!” She coos, sweeping him up into her arms as he laughs. She turns back to Din.

His stomach does flips hearing that word come out of her mouth, no matter how innocent the context.

“Well, what is it?”

“That kind of ruins the point of the surprise, don’t you think?” He says, a hint of humor in his modulated voice. He finally gives in to his urges and gently tucks he hair behind her slightly pointed ear.

Din’s heart feels as though it might burst out of his chestplate as she tries to hide her blush behind the baby’s ear, playing it off as though she’s giving him kisses. She hums before looking back up at Din.

“Okay, well what should I wear?”

“I don’t know, something nice.” It comes out a little rough, and Din mentally kicks himself, seeing her face turn into a slight frown.

“Din, I’m a...” she pauses, covering the child’s ears before continuing. “I’m a fucking princess, Din. You can’t just say ‘wear something nice’ expect me to know exactly what you mean by that.”

He huffs. “Move.”

She complies, and he enters her small quarters, stepping over the various toys that litter the floor. He opens her closet, running his gloved fingers along the plethora of lush fabrics inside.

Life Day, Life Day, Life Day, he thinks to himself. What colors go with Life Day?

He pauses on a silky green gown, thinking about how good it would contrast with her skin tone. He hesitates a moment before removing it from the hanger and holding it out to her.

“Here.”

She sets the child down before taking it from him and examining it, a slightly confused look on her face. 

“Din, this is...this is one of my nicer ones. Are we doing something quite fancy?”

He says nothing for a moment, watching the way her milky eyes scan the dress before deciding on his answer.

“I just think...that it’ll look good on you,” he says, so quietly that the modulator barely picks it up.

Her head shoots up to stare him straight in the visor, the very faint grey of her irises making her expression unreadable. Everyone likes to think he’s intimidating, but they’ve obviously never never made eye contact with an Arkanian. Arkanians that belong to the oldest bloodlines have pure white eyes, but if you catch them in the right light, you can barely make out grey irises and darker grey pupils.

Experiencing second thoughts, Din quickly exits her room without another word and the door whooshes shut again.

He leans on the wall next to the ladder leading up to the cockpit feeling like he’s just run a marathon. His heart races as he begins to worry that he was too forward.

“Fuck...” he mutters, leaning his head on the wall behind him. “Too late now I guess.”

Sitting back down in the cockpit, he guides the Crest into the docking bay that air traffic control instructed him to, and sets the ship down as gently as possible, not wanting to disturb anything the princess may be doing to get ready.

If she’s even getting ready at all, his conscious supplies. She’s probably gonna bolt as soon as the cabin depressurizes. 

But as he descends back into the hold, he’s pleased to hear her puttering around in her room. He checks the time on his chrono.

“Hey, I’m going out for a few. I should be back in a bit...make sure you’re ready by then, okay?” He calls out, holstering his gun and attaching his jet pack.

Something in her room clatters to the floor, causing her so let out a string of curses. He hears her give the child an apology, who just giggles in return before he himself gets a response.

“Yeah! Sure, sure, yeah I’ll be ready!” She says from behind the door, but her voice is unsteady, like she knows she won’t be ready in time.

Din just huffs out a slight laugh before exiting the ship.

...

He returns to find her heels click clacking back and forth between the ‘fresher and where the child sits perched on a box, wiping his face down with a rag and the spots of food on his clothes. She turns to Din, who stands just inside the ship, a dumbfounded look on his hidden face.

Her hair is in a low, loose bun with a few pieces of hair framing her face that he can only assume came out while she was getting the child ready. The matte maroon lipstick she wears gives the allusion that she’s much older than 23, but the subtle blush and highlight adorning her cheeks and nose do well to bring back her youthfulness.

“I tried to get him cleaned up as best as I could. I also fashioned this little hat to fit his head as best I could. I don’t want him to be spotted, and I know it’s cold out there,” she rushes out breathlessly, running back into her room and grabbing the beanie and smushing it on the child’s head. “I know it’s not perfect, but I just want us to be able to have one night where we’re not constantly looking over our shoulders.”

She runs back into her room and returns with a small scarf, wrapping it around the child’s neck. Din wants to reassure her that everything’s okay, but he’s speechless, admiring the way the silk hangs on her body, accentuating her curves. His eyes are first drawn to the slit that exposes her leg almost to her hip when she bends down to pick up a toy the child dropped.

She speaks again, but he still can’t answer. He’s transfixed by the way the neckline plunges down her sternum, just shy of where her ribs start. Her tits are unbound, supported by the fabric that stretches up and over her shoulders, turning into yards of thinner fabric that cinch the dress up across her back.  The straps criss cross her exposed back and end in a bow just below the dimples of her lower back, highlighting the expanse of tight muscles that she’s earned in her tenure as a crewmate, and from her earlier days as a dancer.

He watches as that enticing triangle of missing fabric on her chest gets closer and closer until it’s right in front of him.

“Hey, laser brain! Are you listening to me?” She says, waving her hand in front of his visor and snapping him out of his trance.

“What?” He asks, his voice cracking and making it sound like he hasn’t had anything to drink in days.

She huffs, before saying “I was asking if you were ready to go.”

“Oh,” he coughs out. “Y-yeah, I’m ready. Let’s go.”

“Are we taking the pod, or just carrying him?” She asks, holding the child on her hip.

He thinks a moment before saying “The pod.”

The princess sets him in his pod before slipping on a long black coat and following Din out of the ship. They head out into the busy streets, the child floating in between the two of them.

“Soooooo,” she drawls out, clasping her hands and giving Din doe eyes. “Where are we headed?”

“Uh uh,” he tuts. “Don’t even try that on me. That’s cheating.”

“Why?” She asks, jutting her lip out. “Because it works every time?”

“Yes,” he sighs. “Because it does work every time.”

She just hmphs and says nothing else as they walk along the sidewalks dusted with a light covering of snow. The streetlamps above cast an orangey-yellow glow on the pedestrians that pass them, many of them carrying parcels covered in paper, or large sacks filled with delicious smelling food.

The child makes grabby hands at some of them and the princess chuckles. Din glances over at her and sees the corners of her eyes crinkle as she laughs. They make eye contact for a brief moment before she looks at something above his head and her eyes go wide.

Din flinches, looking up for the threat, but all he sees is snowflakes beginning to fall from the sky. He looks back down at the princess and watches her stick out her tongue to catch a snowflake. They make eye contact again, but this time, she doesn’t look away. She keeps her tongue out until a small fleck of snow lands on it, then she pulls it back into her mouth. She throws him a sideways grin and then looks away, facing her eyes forward.

Din feels his hands get clammy as blood starts to flow south. Fuck, nononononononono, he thinks, balling his hands into fists and trying to think of literally anything else besides they way that snow looked on her tongue. He grits his teeth and looks around, hoping they’re close to the theatre. Thank the Maker.

Just ahead across the street sits the theatre, its twinkling lights and marquee sign dazzling in the white snow. He peeks at the princess without turning his head, and comes away satisfied when she doesn’t seem to notice it yet. He quickly grabs her elbow and pulls her into an alleyway on their right, covering her mouth with his gloved hand when she lets out a yelp.

“Do you trust me?” He breathes out, his chest mere inches away from hers. She nods her head and he lets go of her mouth. He looks down and presses some buttons on his vambrace, quickly recalibrating the child’s pod before shutting its hatch. “Hold onto me.”

She arches her eyebrows before stepping forward and pressing her chest against his, hissing at the frigidness of his beskar against her clavicle. She wraps her arms around his neck as he hooks an arm just below her ass.

“Din...” she warns, not sure where this is going.

“Just be quiet and hang on.” He commands, and with that, they shoot up and into the sky, the baby’s pod going up with them. He feels the princess bury her face into his cape and groan. In his excitement about the surprise, he forgot she doesn’t care for heights.

They land on the rooftop of the theatre, his knees and his back protesting from the extra weight that he’s not used to. Din gently sets the princess down and opens the child’s pod to make sure he’s okay. He smiles up at Din, who waggles a finger in his face.

The princess still hasn’t let go of Din, and Din still hasn’t entirely let go of the princess.

“Hey,” he says softly, and she pulls her head back from his shoulder but keeps her eyes squeezed shut. “It’s okay, we’re done with the flying.”

She exhales a breath he didn’t know she was holding and lets go, opening her eyes. Din reluctantly lets go of her and she takes a step back, looking at their surroundings. The faint sound of instruments taking their final warmups can be heard through the duracrete below them, and the princess finally puts two and two together.

“Din,” she gasps, shaking her head and covering her mouth with her hands. “You didn’t...that’s like, impossible. These are impossible to get. There’s no way...”

He grimaces behind his helmet and sighs. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I couldn’t. But I came by earlier and figured out another way for us to get insi-oof.”

He’s cut off when the princess envelops him in a hug so tight, he feels his back creak in objection.

“I thought you forgot a-about Life Day,” she says into his neck. “You didn’t have to do all this. N-no one’s ever-”

This time, it’s his turn to cut her off. He gently pulls her back until he can see her face, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“You can thank me later...it’s cold out here, and we don’t wanna miss the show.”

She nods and sniffles, dabbing under her eyes and motioning to the roof access. “Lead the way then, captain.” She says with a blinding smile.

A wall of warmth greets them as Din slices the door open. He glances around to make sure no crew members are up this high before motioning the princess in. The door zips shut behind the three of them and they’re sheathed in darkness, save the warm glow coming from the theatre below them. Catwalks stretch out in either direction, one going across the crowd, the other going adjacent to it toward the stage. They have to be at least 20 meters above the crowd.

The princess rushes toward the railing on the catwalk above the crowd and peaks down and Din finds himself surprised she’s not fainted yet. She answers his question before he asks it.

“This, I’m fine with. What I’m not fine with is careening up 100 feet into the air and 60 miles an hour with no warning and no seatbelt,” she says, fixing him with a glare that could cut durasteel.

This time, he doesn’t hide his chuckle, moving to stand next to her as she removes her coat and drapes it over the guardrail. He leans against the railing, the child floating just to his left, the princess on his right.

“You’re sure no one will see us up here?” She asks, lowering her voice as the lights begin to dim and the music starts.

“Would you be looking up to the rafters during this show?” 

“Fair point, but I meant the dancers...”

“No, I think we’ll be fine, it’s dark up here.” 

She just nods in return and keeps her focus on the stage as the curtains draw up and reveal the setting of Act I.

Din looks down at the child whose eyes light up at the glimmering tree on the stage. Underneath it sit huge presents wrapped in patterns of paper that Din couldn’t even think up. Multicolored garland hangs from the windows on the backdrop. Fairy lights dangle from the ceiling, bathing the stage in a magical light. He sees the children on stage laughing with each other as their parents dance to the music and suddenly feels the urge to cry,

His heart sinks at the thought that he could’ve had all this if the Separatists hadn’t invaded Aq Vetina that fateful day - and maybe he did have all of this, he just doesn’t remember. Did he have brothers and sisters? He hardly even remembers what his parents look like, just blurry features, sad eyes as they locked him away in that cellar to save him. What did he used ask for for Life Day? Did his parents dance with each other like that? 

Resentment burns so hot inside of him that he has to tear his eyes away from the ballet and stare down at the crowd below. He grits his teeth and wills the tears threating to fall away. His bitterness flares briefly toward the princess as he catches the gleam in her eyes, the joy on her face as she looks on with glee as the act progresses. But it fades as quickly as it grew, his features softening under his helmet.

Who am I to be spiteful toward her for something I had no control over?

He looks down at the stage again, having not even noticed that Act II began. The music crescendos as the Nutcracker, having just turned into the Prince, begins to dance with Masha. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the chlid giggle in delight.

Just because I don’t have happy memories of my parents, doesn’t mean he can’t. Woah shit wait fuck. No, Din, shut the fuck up and don’t overthink the weight of that. 

Carefully, Din removes both of his gloves and tucks them into his belt before gently resting his hand on the princess’s lower back.

He feels her gasp before she melts into his touch. She looks over her shoulder at him, the light from below causing her features to look sharp and dangerously beautiful. He leans forward so that his helmet is right next to her ear.

“Show me how you’d dance...if that were you on that stage down there,” he whispers, and this time the modulator doesn’t pick it up, so all she hears is his raw, unfiltered voice.

The princess looks up at his visor and smiles before nodding enthusiastically and backing away. She leans down and ties her dress in a knot at her knees before unbuckling her heels.

Din finds himself thinking that she wanted this all along, that she was made for this. His little wild fairy, stripping herself of the titles and the pageantry, barefooted and relaxed with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes.   

She hasn’t taught him much, but he’s tried to listen as best as he could when she’d be doing a routine on the ship.

That’s a pirouette...I think. Okay, okay, plié. That’s first position? No...? Okay, yes, that was first position because this is second position, and now she’s in third.

Din finds himself swaying back and forth and nodding his head to the sweeping instrumentals, and the princess seems to smile when she notices this. She completes an attitude devant before slowing and giggling at him.

“What?” He asks, not quite laughing, but the smile in his voice is evident.

She just shakes her head, her own brilliant smile still plastered on her face before holding out her hand.

“Come on...look, he wants you to,” she says, pointing at the child who has long forgotten the ballet below, instead focusing on the ballerina in front of him.

Din watches the child for a moment more before pushing himself off the railing and taking her outstretched hand. He would be lying if he said this wasn’t the outcome he was hoping for, but when she pulls him into position, he realizes he’s in way over his head. 

“I...I really don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing...” he murmurs, trailing off when she places his hand on her waist, his fingertips meeting the bare skin of her back. She grabs his other hand and holds it up at a 90° angle and it completely swallows her own. He watches her eye their conjoined hands for a moment, an almost awestruck look on her face.

“I’ve never...I’ve never touched you before,” she whispers, looking into his visor where his eyes are. “Like this at least. Your skin.”

He leans in closer to her before whispering “Would you like this to be the last time?”

She slowly shakes her head, keeping her eyes trained on his visor.

“Me neither,” he breathes out. “Now show me what to do.”

She inhales as if falling out of a haze. Clearing her throat, she adjusts Din’s legs by tapping them with her feet before getting into her own position.

“Okay, now I’m not going to tell you it’s simple but you are a fast learner, so I expect you to excel, unless you have two left feet,” she chuckles, straightening her back. “But I’ve seen you in a fight, and fighting and dancing are actually more similar than you’d think. Just like in fighting, if you’re not doing a practiced routine, you have to predict your partner’s moves, and for you, this isn’t a routine.”

“Mmm, cocky are we?” He teases, her reassurance easing a bit of his tension.

“For good reason,” she purrs, giving him a smirk. He doesn’t have time for a smartass reply because she’s already moved on. “Now, the music should be at a good tempo for us to start at any moment if I remember correctly. We’ll take it slow, just remember, feel me, okay? Anticipate my movements, and you’ll be fine. Nothing fancy for now until you get the footwork down.”

She taps her foot and looks out over the balcony, and Din swears he can see the notes swimming in her brain. He notices that in this light, he can see her irises better than he ever has before. But again, before he can complete the thought, she begins moving.

He follows her feet, feeling the way her muscles tense and flex underneath the tips of his fingers. Her eyes move back to his visor from their position over his shoulder and it’s like it clicks for him. If he weren’t going to sound crazy, he’d say it was like she transferred her consciousness to his.

They glide together like that across the catwalk, the child’s giggles following them as the pod, still connected to his vambrace, moves with them. The princess moves to twirl them around and Din’s foot catches a little, but he quickly corrects himself, getting back into step with her. 

She suppresses a laugh before asking “Ready to step it up a notch?”

He just nods and she - seemingly reluctantly - lets go of her grip on his hand and twists so that her back is facing his chest. He readjusts so his grip is on her opposite hip, and she guides him to take her other hand.

“Same steps as before...yeah, good job,” she instructs, and it kindles a fire in his stomach that he thought he had quelled about an hour previous. “Okay, when I tell you to, keep stepping but lift me as you do a 180°, got it?”

His heart stutters, mostly out of fear of his poor, abused back. At 37, he shouldn’t be groaning every time he gets out of bed. But when he glances over at the kid, who is excitedly clapping his hands, he decides he’ll do it.

“Sure, but you’re gonna have to give me a few bacta patches on my shoulders later,” he says, slight amusement in his voice.

“I’ll do whatever you want...now!”

He falters for a moment, his brain short-circuiting like a C-1 series astromech before he realizes she means the lift is now, not...everything else that he wants. She pushes off of her right foot and he lifts her into the air, spinning counter clockwise before setting her down just as the music crescendos and finishes with a loud clash of cymbals and flutes.

They’re both breathing heavily as she turns in his arms to face him, and neither one of them go to move away. The tension is palpable at this point, with Din wanting to just bend her over and take her right there. His helmet tilts down to where her chest heaves and he swears he can see her heart beat in the pulse point on her neck. The thought of sinking his teeth into it and marking up her skin is suddenly overwhelming.

It’s only when the child squeals in delight that they’re snapped back to reality.

“I...I think we should go,” he says, catching his breath and tightening his grip on her waist. “Y’know, because the show’s over and crewmembers are gonna be up here any minute.”

She nods.

“Do you wanna take the elevator this time?” He asks her, hesitantly removing his grasp on her.

Again she shakes her head. “No,” she says hastily, donning her coat and looking like a ball of nervous energy. “Just do whatever gets us to the ship faster.”

They exit the way they came in, the princess clinging to Din, but he notices she’s not nearly as stiff as she was on the short flight up. They land near the same alleyway as before. The princess immediately exits the alley, setting course for the ship as Din struggles to keep up with her brisk pace.

“Hey,” he says, grabbing her arm. “You okay?”

She huffs air out of her nose before crossing her arms and shifting her weight. The snow has picked up since they entered the theatre, big enough now to cling to her hair and eyelashes. He watches as she leans over and snaps the child’s pod shut.

“I don’t know how to say this...” she begins, and Din’s heart sinks.

Dank farrik, I’ve gone and fucked this up, he thinks, his thoughts so loud that he only catches onto the last part of her sentence.

“...a virgin because of tradition on Arkanis, but I’ve wanted you to fuck me on every surface of the Crest since you asked me to join you. And I know this is forward, and maybe too brash, but I can’t stand it anymore and I just think that...I think I lo-”

“Woah, woah, woah. Slow down. I...” he licks his lips under his helmet and lets his brain catch up. “You want to...you want to have sex with me?”

She fixes him with a look that says “duh, weren’t you listening, dumbass?”

He sighs before responding. “Okay, look, I want this too, I have since the first time Karga, Dune, and I saw you at that library on Coruscant. But listen, if you’re...if you’re a virgin, then this is something I don’t want you to just decide to do on a whim, you understand me? That’s something that should be done with s-someone you care about.”

“Is that how your first time went?” She questions, narrowing her eyes. It’s a low blow because he revealed the answer to her one night while they were both drinking up in the cockpit. In this light, he can’t see her irises at all, and it’s extremely intimidating.

“I, well, no, but you’re missing the point-”

“Am I? I care about you, Din. Do you care about me?”

There’s no trepidation in his voice when he answers this time. “Yes.”

“Then what’s the holdup, hm?”

“Because I don’t want to hurt you!” He shouts, earning furtive glances from the few last minute shoppers out and about. He sighs. “I’m not a prince, okay? I’m not some nutcracker that turns into a handsome prince and runs away with you into the forest. I’m not what you were taught to look for in your happily ever after. I’m not supposed to be your forever. I’m not even supposed to be the kid’s forever...”

The princess glares at the sky, clenching her jaw, and Din can tell from past experiences with the cauterizer that she’s trying not to cry.

“And don’t even try to tell me that it’s not about that. I know you. You crave connection, you feed off of it. You just deserve someone better than me. After I find his people, I’m gonna go back to the only thing I was ever any good at: killing.”

She sniffles and he suddenly, selfishly wishes he hadn’t been honest with her. That he would’ve just lied and whisked her back into the ship so he could fuck her every day until he inevitably broke her heart.

She looks back down, and the placid look on her face terrifies him more than the thought of someone ripping his helmet off (though his faith in the Creed is becoming increasingly shaky). She just sets her jaw and nods, turning on her heel and getting back to her brisk pace from before. It’s then that Din realizes he’s turned the sexual tension into the need for a nasty, ugly fight, having denied his feelings for so long that he’s used to feeling anger and frustration after a close encounter with her.

“Since when are you one to run away like a Corellian hellhound with your tail tucked between your legs, huh?” He says, grabbing her elbow again once he’s caught up with her.

She yanks her arm out of his grip and faces him with a scowl on her face. “Since you decided you were so unlovable, that’s when. You think you’re this horrific, terrible person. Well, Din, I’ve got news for you; plenty of people all over this galaxy do what you do for a living, and then go home and eat dinner with their partners and kids. It’s you,” she says, jabbing a finger into his chest. “That has decided you’re so unlovable. Not this galaxy, not your profession, you. You can’t even call your son yours because you’re so afraid of what? Commitment? Someone giving a damn? And guess what? Even more bad news; you’ve failed so fucking miserably at that, because he loves you. You’re his father, Din, and he loves you. I love you. And you’re not doing yourself any favors by ignoring those two blatantly obvious facts.”

The unshed tears in her eyes start to fall and Din wants to rip his helmet off right there and kiss them off her face, but he doesn’t even know what to say except that she’s right. She’s exactly right and oh, Maker, he’s a dumbass.

“To have you sit here and say that you even might possibly feel the same way about me but in the same breath say that you’re afraid of breaking my heart is...well it’s fucking stupid!” She exclaims, tossing her hands up in the air. “I’d be stupid not to love you, I would know, I literally have three degrees, Din. You risked your life to save your son, you’ve risked your life to save me, Karga, and Dune on multiple occasions. You’re trekking halfway across the galaxy to find some fabled wizard, all for your kid to be reunited with his people. You are one of the most selfless people I’ve ever met, and the only person you’re convincing that you’re some bad guy is you. You’re the good guy...that much is true.”

“I’ve done...I’ve done bad things, sweetheart. I can’t even begin to name them all...” he mutters, looking over at the child’s closed bassinet.

“Okay? We all have. My parents were grooming me to be a politician for fucks sake. What could possibly be worse than that?”

She turns and walks away then again, while he sits there staring at her before his brain, reliable as ever, finally does the mental math. “Oh, Maker, I insulted you, didn’t I?” He calls out.

“Yes!” She barks without turning around, stomping through the snow that builds up on the sidewalk. “If you got me a present for Life Day, I’ll consider it forgiven. Come on, it’s cold, we can talk in the ship...after you’ve fixed that.”

Things Din Djarin needs to stop forgetting: 1) don’t ever insult an Arkanian, or you’ll spend your whole life savings trying to get back in their good graces.

...

They don’t speak a word until they get back to the ship, and even then, words spoken aren’t to each other, only the child. The princess gets him fed and tucked in for the night before disappearing into the ‘fresher. Din fiddles around, unsure if he wants to keep going on their journey or stay on Chandrila for the night. Eventually, he decides to keep going, knowing that the temperatures will drop too much overnight on Chandrila to keep the engine off.

He hears her emerge from the ‘fresher just as the ship lurches into hyperspace, and he reaches over and grabs a parcel from underneath the control panel before heading down into the hold. He gets a strange sense of déja vu, except this time, he knows where he stands.

She’s in her quarters, but the door isn’t shut, so he takes that as an invitation to enter. He sits on her bed, watching her wrestle a chunky knit sweater over her wet hair.

“That’s more like it,” he says, and she turns to face him, a quizzical look on her face. She spots the parcel in his hands, but says nothing of it, just looks at him expectantly. “Your look, I mean. You looked, incredible tonight, but this feels more authentic, more you. You look freer.”

She just nods and bends down to slip on some socks. He holds the parcel out to her when she’s finished and she takes it without a word, sitting down next to him and unwrapping it.

The paper reveals a box. Even though her irritation at his earlier behavior rolls off of her in waves, he can almost feel her excitement piquing.

She opens the box to reveal a pair of pointe shoes in a blush pink color, delicately wrapped in red and green paper.

“...does this make up for me being a fucking idiot?”

She holds the shoes up to the light to inspect them, a revered look upon her face.

“I...I don’t even know what to say.” She whispers.

“Well, you could start with ‘thanks’.” He says, which earns him a light punch on his pauldron. 

“I hope you know it’s customary to give the present on Life Day, not the night before, so don’t think this means you get yours tonight. But how did you know?” She asks, finally turning to look at him.

“Well you only drool all over the sidewalk every time we pass a store that sells them, so I picked some up a few rotations ago when we stopped to fuel up.” He answers softly.

She smiles bashfully and tucks her hands into her lap, suddenly finding a spot on the floor very interesting. Din gently takes her chin in between his pointer finger and thumb, guiding her to look at him again.

“I’m sorry...for everything I said. I’m not used to this, any of it. I didn’t mean to insult you in anyway, but you understand that you and I come from completely different worlds, different realities...” he trails off, trying to find the right words to say. “The truth is...I’m scared, terrified of you leaving me. Everyone I’ve ever loved has...has, well, left. I know the kid is gonna have to leave at some point...I don’t want you to, too.

“After we left Nevarro, before we came here, I wanted nothing more than to take off my helmet and tell you...tell you how I love you face to face, and I’ve wanted to do it so many times tonight, but I don’t think I’m ready yet...to take off the helmet, that is. I-I don’t want you to think less of me for that, but I do love you.”

The princess, his princess, cocks her head to the side.

“I knew what I was signing up for, silly. I never expected you to take it off in front of me, not now and maybe not ever. That doesn’t make it any less meaningful.” She tells him with a smile, resting her hand where his cheek would be. “Even though I would really like to kiss you right now.”

“Well, that I can make an exception for.” He says, and removes his hand from her chin, moving it to the lip of his helmet and pulling up slightly.

He knows she’s staring at his bronzed skin and three day old stubble when he says “Well, kiss me then.”

It’s awkward at first when their lips meet, the angle of the helmet meaning that she has to tilt her head almost sideways to avoid a large gash on her nose from the sharp edge, but after a second or two, it’s like magic. They move in sync, chapped lips moving against perfectly moisturized ones. After a moment, Din takes the lead and deepens the kiss, keeping one hand on the helmet and moving the other to the back of her neck. He tentatively pushes his tongue into her mouth, but his eyes almost pop out of their sockets when she starts to suck on it. He groans and she moves her hands up to the sides of his neck.

“How’d you get so good at this?” He asks as they both pause to take a breath.

“Just because I’m a virgin doesn’t mean I wasn’t a horny teenager once. I spent plenty of summers at the Young Senators Retreat and-”

“Yeah, okay I get the picture,” Din huffs.

She laughs a full bellied laugh, the kind that crinkles the skin around her eyes and shows her teeth.

“Aw, is someone jealous?” She teases, poking the sliver of his cheek that was revealed to her.

He slips the helmet down and moves to stand up, and she does the same.

“Wait I didn’t mean to-”

“Sit down. I’ll be right back.”

He exits her room and takes a deep breath. He’s wanted this for so long, to be touched by another...to touch another. To touch her.

He returns moments later with a strip of thick black cloth in his hand and shuts the door behind him.

“As much as I want to see the look in your eyes when I make you come, I’d much rather be able to see the pretty little expressions you make when I eat you out.” He says moving to kneel on the edge of the bed. Her mouth drops into an “o” shape, her face flushing as bright red as it possibly can.

She clears her throat as he ties the cloth around her head, sheathing her in darkness. “You’re, um, good at complimenting.”

He laughs darkly, removing his helmet all the way and setting it on the floor at the foot of the bed before placing his lips next to her ear. “I think you mean dirty talk, angel.”

If it was possible for her to flush anymore, she would’ve, he thinks. He suddenly stops when a thought flashes across his mind that maybe she’s just doing this because he wants to.

“Hey, is this okay? I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with or not ready for, so if you want me to turn off the lights, or we can just stop altogether, just-”

“Din,” she whispers, reaching her hand out until she finds purchase on his knee. “It’s okay. Please, just touch me before I melt into a puddle of goo.”

Din just hums and stands, beginning to remove his armor. The pieces clank to the floor by the edge of the bed one by one, and he swears her face gets redder and redder from the anticipation. Finally, he’s left only in his underwear. He reaches out and grabs her hand, pulling her to stand. His fingertips move down to brush against the hem of her heavy sweater.

“Is this okay?” He asks, tapping his finger over her stomach and he feels her muscles flutter. She nods her head and he tries again.

“No, you have to use your words, sweet girl. Is this okay?” This time, his tone is more firm.

“Yes,” she replies breathlessly. “Please, Din.”

“Please what? What do you want?”

At this point, he knows he’s just riling her up, making the tension palpable before she snaps. He hears a whine in the back of her throat before she responds.

“I-I want you t-to do what you said you’d d-do to me earlier.” She mumbles, looking down at the ground as if to avoid his gaze, even though she can’t see anything.

“Mmm,” he tuts, stepping closer to her and leaning down to nuzzle his nose against the pulse point in her neck. “Which was?”

She huffs. “I want you to eat my pussy until I cry, and then pin me down and fuck me however you want.”

He pulls back at her sudden forwardness, not expecting her to be baited by his teasing. Her hands are balled into fists at her sides and her chest heaves. She huffs again and starts pulling at her clothes.

When her sweater comes off, Din’s cock gets ten times harder at the sight of her bare chest. He’s so caught up in the way her nipples harden and her chest flushes that he doesn’t realize she completely naked until she gingerly steps back toward the bed and flops down.

“Are you even still alive?”

When Din catches a glimpse of wet slick in between her legs, he decides that he’s not.

“N-no, I’m still here...you’re just. Looks like you were sculpted by the Maker himself. I’m not ever gonna to be able to keep my hands to myself around you.” He murmurs, stepping in between her legs and drawing a finger up her calf.

“You haven’t even hardly done that yet.” She grumbles, twitching as his hand trails behind her knee.

“Mmm, that may be true, but I’m never gonna want to leave this room ever again.”

She smirks and he leans over her to plant a kiss on her mouth, his body not yet touching hers. She wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him in closer, winding her legs around his torso. When Din feels her wet heat touch the skin just below his bellybutton, his patience thins. He deepens the kiss, carding his hands through her hair and holding her flush to him. She lets a soft moan out and he thinks he might explode.

He pulls away and moves down her body, leaving wet kisses in his wake that have her shivering. He licks a long stripe with the tip of his tongue from just above her clit to her navel and she claps a hand over her mouth.

He stops himself from drowning in her cunt and reaches up to pull her hand away from her mouth. “I shouldn’t have to tell you that I wanna hear you, sweet girl.”

As soon as she says okay, he dives in, immediately attaching his lips to her clit and sucking gently. Her hands fly to his hair and tug, which makes him groan at an ungodly loud volume into her pussy. He releases her clit and licks figure 8′s on her fluttering hole and back up to her clit. 

She squeals and brings her thighs up to cage his head, and Din resolves that if he dies, this is how he wants to go; devouring her pussy and soaking up the cute little noises she makes, getting his head squeezed by her thighs and his hair pulled by her tiny hands.

He sucks on her clit again and she lets out a long moan.

“Din, please, s-something put something-”

He cuts her off by slowly wedging his pointer finger into her and starting to thrust. Her back arches off the bed and she lets out an even longer moan than before.

He lets go of her clit and asks “Is this what you wanted, angel? My thick fingers? Or just my mouth?”

She hums before shaking her head. “I-Is both an option? I w-want both, please.”

“Good job using your manners. And yes, both is an option.” He says before diving back in.

This time, instead of hearing her moans, he’s not even sure he can hear her breathing. He inserts a second finger and she exhales, letting go of his hair to fist the sheets. His dick jumps at the loud squelching sound his fingers make in her pussy as he picks up the pace.

“Ohh,” she groans out, and his eyes flick up to see her tits moving slightly with the force of his fingers. “Din, that feels so good.”

“Mhm, I’m gonna have to give you one more finger, sweet girl. Do you think you can take one more?” He asks, his voice muffled as he keeps slurping on her clit.

“One more? B-But it already feels so...so...” she trails off into a whine when he curls his fingers up and gives her the ‘come here’ motion.

“Tight? Yeah, angel, I know. But I’ve gotta do one more if you wanna be able to take it.”

Her pelvic floor contracts at his words and she squirms, bringing her hands back up to his hair and tugging.

He slowly gives her a third finger and watches her face to control his pace. It scrunches up into a frown that wrinkles her nose, but relaxes when he uses his tongue to lick a flat stripe across her clit. She uses her purchase on his hair to guide him to suck her clit again, and shortly after that, she’s moaning again.

He scissors his fingers on every thrust, trying to get her as relaxed as possible for the real thing. He curls his fingers up one more time and she’s inhaling loudly, her thighs shaking around his head and her fingers tightening around his locks. She screams as she meets her release, the sound coming out rough and scratchy. She curls in around his head, refusing to let go of his hair as he continues to suck on her clit.

She finally lets go and Din keeps thrusting as she exhales and it turns into a whimper. He slowly removes his fingers and crawls back up her body, pushing her legs back up to his torso as he goes. Her chest is still heaving from her orgasm as he leans down to give her a thorough kiss.

“Suck,” he gently commands, bringing the three fingers that were just inside of her to her lips. She hesitates a moment before opening her mouth and doing as he says. He groans as her tongue slips in between each digit and she licks off her come.

Din feels his heart stutter as he watches her.

“You look so perfect like this, all open for me, being a good girl.”

She hums around his fingers and he removes them, shucking his underwear off and fisting his cock with her spit.

“Are you on the implant?” He questions.

“Yeah, it’s against the law not to be on Arkanis...is it going to hurt?” She asks softly, clutching her hands to her chest.

“I think I’ve got you pretty wet and worked open, but we’ll go slow. It might hurt a little,” he answers, rubbing his thumb on the inside of her thigh while his hand spreads her spit around the head of his dick. “Are you ready?”

“Mhm,” she says, nodding her head, but she replies again, seemingly remembering his warning from earlier. “Yes.”

He adjusts her legs so that her calves are resting on his hipbones. He brings his thumb back to her clit and rubs gently as he starts to push the head in.

Now, Din is a cocky bastard by any means, but he’s not surprised when she starts to scrunch her face up and hold her breath when his cock gets about an inch in.

“Uh-ooh uh Din...Din it’s thick. Let me...can I feel...” he slows his movements as she trails off, grabbing her hand and bringing it down to the rest of his length that isn’t inside of her yet.

“H-how is the rest of this supposed to fit in me, what the fuck?” She asks incredulously, barely able to wrap her hand around the diameter.

Din laughs lightly, reaching up and grabbing one of her pillows before lifting her hips up and sticking it under her.

“This might help. Just relax, the more relaxed you are, the quicker you’ll adjust.” He tells her, leaning down to give her a lingering kiss. He stays there, hovering over her as he gently pushes in some more, kissing her again when her face scrunches.

He gets about halfway in before she finally relaxes and Din’s cock doesn’t feel like it’s being strangled. He sits back up and watches as her pussy swallows the rest of his length.

“Oh, sweet girl you’re doing such a good job already. I wish you could see how good your little pussy takes this dick.” He tells her, choking on his words when her muscles flex and squeeze his dick. He pulls out a fraction of an inch before pushing in again and she mewls. “It’s like you were made for me.”

She brings her arms up to drape over her already covered eyes.

“I-it feels good...go faster, please, I want it.” She whines and Din can’t help but run a hand up her stomach and to one of her tits, pinching her nipple lightly before pulling back and giving her what she wants.

“I love it when you beg,” he breathes out, enunciating each word with a thrust that’s not too hard, but just hard enough to redden her chest and make her tits bounce. “Look at you, I’ve got a little princess speared on my cock, hardly able to even talk. Have you thought about this? Huh? Thought about how my cock would feel? I knew you were wearing those tight little leggings and those little tank tops with no bra on for a reason. Dancing around my ship like I didn’t want to bend you over a crate and take you right there.”

She moans, long and loud, and he picks up his pace, lifting up her legs and holding them against his chest.

“K-keep talking, please, please, ple-” Her voice turns into a whine when he angles his hips up and hits a spot inside of her that has her legs locking up and her ankles tightening behind his head. He has to grit his teeth to stop himself from coming too soon because of how much tighter her velvet heat gets.

“Yeah, you like that? This pussy feels so good, baby. I-I wanna spend the rest of my life just fucking you.” He grunts out, emphasizing his last few words with a hard thrust.

She lets out an absolutely pornographic moan when he does that, but it turns into a whine when Din abruptly pulls out. He pulls away to grab his helmet and slip it back on before plopping down on the bed next to her and pulling her hips up and over so she’s straddling his. He reaches up and yanks off the blindfold, causing her to reflexively cover her eyes.

“I have the helmet on, it’s fine,” he tells her, watching her shoulders deflate. “I want you to watch the way I fuck you, angel. Uncover your eyes.”

She tentatively does as he asks and when she looks down at his cock that rests on his stomach, her eyes bulge. When she takes it in her small hand, Din wants to burn the image into his brain. She looks back up at him with a look of amazement.

“There’s no way this was in me...” she trails off, lightly stroking it.

“Mm, yeah, well you can have it back in you if you’d stop talking. I like it more when you beg.”

He watches as the look of amazement turns to mischief, similar to the look she gave him earlier at the theatre. Her milky eyes pierce his visor as she licks her hand and then rubs her pussy, dragging her other hand up her body to grab a handful of her tit.

“Then why don’t you put it back in and keep fucking me?” She asks, looking down at him through her lashes.

“Every fucking day you’re full of surprises, angel,” he groans, grabbing his cock and teasing her clit with it before pushing up and into her. She throws her head back and Din suddenly wishes she had the blindfold back on so he could fulfill his earlier wishes of marking her up.

He grabs her hips and pulls her down to meet his thrusts.

“Look,” he barks, causing her to jerk her head down to the place they meet. “Look at how this cock stretches you. Look at how well you’re doing, such a good girl. Always such a good girl for me, doing what I ask you to.”

He rambles as his thrusts get harder and faster and the princess starts to clench around him again.

“Are you gonna come for me? Gonna come all over this cock? One of these days, I’m gonna make you squirt all over my armor and then I’m-I’m not even gonna clean it, I’m just g-gonna go pick up a bounty.”

The princess lets out a laugh at that, clapping a hand over her mouth as she does and Din slows his pace.

“I’m sorry this feels really good still, but that was just funny. Hot, but also funny. I-I think it was just your delivery,” she giggles, removing her hand from her mouth and placing it on his chest.

Din’s heart skips a beat at the sight of his girl straddling his cock with a smile on her face, looking at him so lovingly. It’s a gaze he hasn’t been on the receiving side of in a long time. He finds himself thankful for once that the helmet is on because of the tears that spring to his eyes. Crying during sex? Not Din Djarin.

He sits up then, holding onto her back and folding his knees under him, hearing them protest as he does. He pushes her shoulders down so that he’s bottomed out inside her pussy and she groans.

“Please don’t ever leave me,” he pleads, looking up and fixing his visor on her face. “Him and I, we need you.”

“I-wh-where did that come from? Are you okay?” She asks, placing her hands on either side of his helmet and looking concerned.

He ignores her question, opting to bury his helmet into her chest and hug her tight while starting to thrust back into her.

“Din...” she warns, but hugs him back anyway.

They stay like that for a few minutes, just slowly moving back and forth together until Din’s patience breaks and he can’t help but start thrusting harder and faster. His hand snakes down her front to rub at her clit and he can feel her start to come undone. Her cunt clenches around him as she’s quickly and quietly tipped over the edge, her thighs and back spasming. She says nothing, just pants heavily above him, clutching his shoulders and brushing the strands of hair at the back of his neck that have escaped his helmet.

“Can I-can I come inside? Please-”

“Yes,” she cuts him off breathlessly. “Please, Maker, yes.”

He thrusts in a few more times before speaking again.

“Tell me you-mmm. Tell me you love me, cyare.”

“Oh, Din, I love you so much. You’re so special, you’re such a special man. I loveyouIloveyouIloveyou.”

He comes inside of her with a long groan, burying his face further into her chest as she repeats herself over and over.

Eventually, Din flops back onto her bed and she follows. He notices she takes extra care to make sure his cock doesn’t slip out of her.

“Wanted to keep all that come in there, huh?” He jokes lightly, giving her a soft pat on the butt.

“Shut up,” she huffs with a laugh into his neck. “I’m gonna have to get up eventually though to turn off the light. Are you...will you stay with me? If the lights are off?”

He rubs his hands up and down her back before exhaling deeply and responding.

“I would sleep in all of my armor just for the honor of falling asleep next to you.”

“Mmm,” she hums, tracing her finger along his collarbone. “Well lucky for you, I have a strict ‘no armor’ policy in my bed. It reads like this: ‘No beskar? No problem.’.”

-

Din awakes with a start to a loud thwump, thwump, thwump from somewhere in the ship. Immediately fearing the worst, he throws his undershirt and pants on and rushes into the hold.

There she sits, his princess, in one of his long-sleeve tunics and a pair of his underwear that fit her like shorts, banging the absolute shit out of one of her pointe shoes. The child, his son, he reminds himself, sits across from her holding the other shoe, trying to mimic her and bobbing his head along to the music playing softly in the background.

He calms his racing heartbeat as he goes to take a seat on the floor next to them.

“Happy Life Day,” she says, leaning over to place a kiss where his cheek would be.

“Happy Life Day to you, too,” he responds tenderly, booping her nose. She looks down to return to her work and Din turns to his son. “Happy Life Day, buddy.”

He babbles in delight, holding up the shoe to show Din all the work he’s (not) done on it.

“Sorry if I woke you up...actually, no I’m not. He told me to,” she says without looking up, nodding her head toward the child who just laughs. “He wants his presents, daddy.”

Din clears his throat and stands back up while the princess just smirks, knowing exactly what she does to him.

“Oh, and while you’re at it, there’s one for you underneath my bed.” She calls out to him as he leaves to go retrieve the Life Day presents.

“Alright, but next time I sit down, I’m not getting back up for at least 20 minutes.” He calls back from the ladder.

When he returns, he sees that they’ve switched shoes.

“So what does that do anyway?” He asks, setting the presents on the floor in between them. The child immediately makes grabby hands.

“Oh, it just breaks them in, but trust me, you’re not gonna want to see my feet for at least a week once you see what pointe shoes do to them,” she laughs.

Din’s helmet tilts, trying to gauge if he should have even bought them.

“Hey,” she says softly, placing a warm hand on his shoulder. “Thank you. They’re perfect. You have to do this with all of them, I promise.”

He just nods and pats her hand before reaching over and handing the child his present.

“This one’s mine?” He asks, holding up a large box wrapped in purple paper with a silver bow on top.

“Mhm,” she responds with a smile, tossing the shoe aside to pull his son into her lap and help him unwrap his present. “There’s a few things in there, but I could only do one box because the paper tax on Vardos was high.”

“That’s rich coming from the princess,” he teases, gently tearing into the paper.

“Hey! You know I don’t like using my parents’ capitalist credits,” she frowns.

He laughs, the modulator making it sound raspy. Their attention is grabbed by the child, who finally gets the box open and squeals in delight at the objects inside.

“Show dad what you got!” She tells him.

Din ignores his own present for a moment to watch as his son shows him a red shirt and black pants.

“Wow! That’s cool! Do you like them?” He asks.

The child babbles and Din looks at the princess. “Where’d you find something that small?”

“A maternity store,” she responds with a shrug, still looking down at the child. “Show him the next one!”

Din’s thoughts are swimming with the idea of her walking around a maternity store when the kid shows him his next present. The mental image has his blood rushing south until he reminds himself where he is and what he’s doing.

He clears his throat for the second time that morning because of explicit thoughts. “Oh, that’s neat!”

His son holds a tukka doll close to his chest with bright eyes and a beaming smile that shows his little teeth.

“Tell your dad to open his present,” the princess leans down and tells him, giving him a scratch on the head. When he babbles at Din again, his heart melts.

“Okay, okay, I’m on it hang on,” he responds, gently peeling open the cardboard.

In the box sits a camera, a photo, a cushion of some sort, and a folded piece of deep red fabric. The first thing he pulls out of the box is the photo. It takes him approximately ten seconds to realize that it’s a picture of him, smiling, as a boy. Next to him sits a girl, about four years older than him, and behind them stand his parents. There’s a tree with lights and ornaments decorating it in the background.

“Do you like it?” She softly asks him, placing a hand on his knee.

“I...how?” Is all he can muster.

“Well, I did some digging...a lot, actually. I found this on the holonet on an Aq Vetina tribute page,” she says, scratching the back of her neck and looking away. “It’s sad how many of those there are. Anyways, I saw your last name, your family’s last name, and figured it had to be you guys. I, uh, had it printed out because having to boot up a piece of technology every time you want to see that seems silly.”

“Is that...did I have a sister?” He whispers, drawing his finger over her picture.

“Seems that way. I could probably do some more digging if you’d like...maybe teach you how to use the holonet while I’m at it, old man.” She softly teases, squeezing his knee.

He’s scared that he broke something when he practically tackles her in a hug. His son hoots in delight, crawling his way up her front to be in the middle of the embrace.

“Thank you...so much,” he whispers in her ear, this time doing nothing to stop the tears that roll down his cheeks and catch on the lining of his helmet.

“It’s the least I could do,” she replies, giving him a soft smile when he pulls away. “If you need a moment, we can take a break before you-”

“No, no it’s okay. I’m fine,” he reassures her, the barest hint of a smile in his voice. “I’m right here where I want to be.”

He pulls the camera out of the box and inspects this.

“This is an older model,” he comments, looking through the viewfinder. “This must’ve been hard to find.”

“Yeah, but I wanted one that prints the photos out so you can keep them on you,” she responds.

“What’s this?” He asks, holding up the cushion.

She laughs. “It’s for your butt. For your chair in the cockpit. It’s supposed to help with back pain.”

He gently pops her on the head with it and she giggles. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

“Mhm...pull out the last one.” She tells him, nodding to the box.

He removes the fabric from the box and it unfolds as he holds it up.

“It’s a new cape. I got it so you guys could match.”

The smile on Din’s face threatens to break his helmet in half. “Hey, buddy, look...we’re matching.” He says, holding the cape out to his son.

The child giggles and wraps it around himself like a cape, and goes parading around the little half circle they’ve formed.

“This is...this is nice,” Din compliments, scooting over and slinging his arm over the princess’s shoulder. “All we need now is a tree.”

She leans her head into the crook of his arm and sighs contentedly. “Yeah, well they don’t survive in extended periods of hyperspace...trust me, I already thought about it.”

“I feel bad I only got you the one present,” he remarks, a tinge of disappointment in his voice.

“Mm, I’ve got everything I want right here,” she singsongs, poking him in his side. “Now lets get all this paper cleaned up so we can eat.”

She holds her hands out and he follows her up.

“What if we...uh, can we recreate that picture? The one of my parents?” He asks tentatively once he’s fully standing.

“Like...with the three of us?” She inquires, her eyes widening.

“Yeah.”

“Of course,” she answers with a soft smile. “It’d be best to do it after breakfast before his nap though.”

He watches for a moment as she starts cleaning up the multicolored wrapping paper, thinking about how peaceful and domestic this moment seems. He almost brings up getting their implants removed and having a few more monsters running around the ship, but he decides that maybe that’s a conversation for next Life Day, where hopefully they won’t have to live in the ship anymore or be on the run.

Even if there aren’t any more kids in the picture, or if we never settle down somewhere, this is more than enough, he thinks before joining his princess and his son in the kitchenette for a Life Day feast.

And for a day, all is well with the Mudhorn Clan.

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Avengers #222: A Gathering of Evil!

August, 1982

You know, I haven’t really thought about how long its been since the Avengers have dealt with the Masters of Evil.

The Masters are the Avengers’ evil opposite team. The Brotherhood of Evil Mutants to their X-Men. The Legion of Doom to their Justice League. The Revengers to their Avengers.

But the Avengers haven’t had to deal with the Masters of Evil since Avengers #83. And in that appearance, they took a backseat to the real master of evil. FEMINISM.

At least according to Roy Thomas.

But yeah. Its been a while without the Masters of Evil. And, uh, any team with Whirlwind has a long way to climb for credibility. Yeah, I said it. He doesn’t wear a shirt.

Also, they put She-Hulk in her at-the-time Iconic She-Hulk Outfit. This is another case of the cover lying. The reality is, somehow, even more embarrassing for her.

Last time: the Avengers had a membership drive because you can only be a kooky quartet for so long. She-Hulk and Hawkeye were recruited and took an instant dislike to each other.

Because She-Hulk cut off Hawkeye in traffic and Hawkeye proportionately responded by breaking her car.

Fun!

So lets get to it.

We start with She-Hulk trying to fix her car.

Annnnd she’s throwing random pieces out of the hood. I don’t think she knows much about auto-repair.

When the electrical system zaps her, she gets so angry that she smashes the car flat like she’s a Street Fighter. Then she jams the wreckage into a public trashcan - also flattening that.

Alas, She-Hulk’s pink Cadillac. You graced our lives for far too short a time. And were taken from us by that heinous bowman Hawkeye. This is the sin which I will always hold against him.

Wasp rolls into the scene, tsking about She-Hulk’s behavior being bad for the Avengers’ image. And hey, yeah! I do like that She-Hulk trying to fix a car in front of the mansion before getting fed-up and breaking it is a good indication that she’s not going to be your typical Avenger.

But despite the tsk she’s not too serious about the admonishment. She even congratulates She-Hulk on getting rid of the car, as it clashed with her skin color.

Reasonably enough, She-Hulk asks who made Wasp the expert.

Except, Wasp did. Wasp made Wasp an expert. She’s literally a professional fashion designer. But relatedly, she’s designed a whole new wardrobe for She-Hulk and can’t wait to dress her up.

I kind of wonder if Wasp views new female teammates as potential canvasses.

Later on, in the Busiek run, she’ll design a new outfit for Firestar pretty much without any input from Firestar herself. And it had an incredibly plunging neckline that Firestar was very uncomfortable with.

If Wasp offers to fashion design for you, feel flattered and a little bit afraid.

Anyway, She-Hulk decides well might be nice to try on a bunch of new clothes.

Y’know, She-Hulk is a bit of a fashion person herself. In her original solo book she started the ‘oops I flexed and my sleeves fell off’ fashion.

Meanwhile, elsewhere, Tony Stark at Stark International.

Big boss himself came down to the Long Island office because one of his programmers has asked for time off.

Brenner’s son is sick and he needs to pick him up from school. BUT: he’s in the middle of a complicated computer project!

Like the idealized fictional caring billionaire that he is, Tony is completely understanding.

Tony Stark, what a guy: “Well, your son is more important than any computer program, take the rest of the day off -- with pay.”

If you end up stuck in the Marvel universe somehow, see about swinging a job with Tony Stark. Tony Stark makes you feel/he’s the cool exec with the heart of steel.

Tony decides he’ll get Ordinary Electrical Engineer Scott Lang to finish the programming work.

Ordinary Electrical Engineer Scott Lang is happy to pick up the project but since Tony Stark is in the room anyway, Scott asks if Iron Man has mentioned any news of Hank Pym.

For you see, although you might think that this Scott Lang is an Ordinary Electrical Engineer, he is actually the new Ant-Man so he feels indebted to Hank Pym.

Tony responds that there hasn’t been any news since Hank Pym went to jail so Scott asks why the Avengers haven’t done anything for him. Tony claims that there’s not a lot that the Avengers can do for him until his case comes to trial.

You could hire him a good lawyer? Or pay for that therapy that you thought he needed?

I guess I don’t know that Tony isn’t doing these things off-screen, to be fair.

Tony further claims that Hank will do fiiiine in jail, because he’s tough. Scott remains dubious since he’s actually been to jail and knows what its like. But there’s only so much you can contradict the boss, even if he’s idealized fictional caring billionaire Tony Stark.

And anyway, Tony has other things on his mind. He’s more worried about Jan than he is about Hank. She’s way too well-adjusted for having gotten divorced after her marriage turned miserable. According to Tony Stark anyway.

Of course, his major misunderstanding is that he thinks “she had [Hank] to lean on for so many years” when it was more the other way around. The Jan he thought he knew was actually playing the role of the Hank Pym Hype Squad.

Meanwhile, we check in on Steve Rogers.

One thing I appreciate about this run of Avengers is that we have more of a sense of what the Avengers are doing when not Avengersing. The Avengers book feels a lot more keyed into the rest of the related Marvel universe.

For example, Steve actually got some art jobs! It looks like comics book actually! And he does art for advertisements too!

And he’s living that glamorous artist life of staying up all night to finish pages and then going ‘oh shit my day job’ when his alarm rings for the Avengers meeting.

Although he’s actually looking forward to getting the costume on and getting away from dealing with ad executives and art editors for a while.A good ol’ several hours in the Avengers gym will help work out the art desk bad posture knots out of his shoulders.

And elsewhere in Chicago, Illinois, where Ordinary Doctor Donald Blake has moved to attempt to make a life for himself separate from Thor. He’s doubtful whether he actually can.

I sorta wonder what the status quo in the Thor books is like because usually when Dr. Donald Blake shows up in the Avengers book, he’s been like a wandering expert doctor, just passing through. Showing up to do the tough medical jobs. He’s settling down in Chicago now.

But at least the thousand mile commute to the weekly Avengers meeting is no problem for THOR!

Now that Hawkeye is on the Avengers again, he’s part of the round of checking in. He’s clocking out of the security chief job at Cross Technological Enterprises. His colleagues all envying how he gets to set his own hours.

He takes a train from Yonkers to his new Central Park West apartment. I don’t know if you remember his living conditions before he got the job at Cross Technological but it was a bit suck. He’s definitely put his steady paycheck to use improving his digs.

Old (from issue #189):

New (from issue #this issue):

Although maybe too much. Because when he gets home he realizes that he has almost no food in his apartment and also no money until payday.

Hawkeye: “Where the heck does $1200 a week go, anyway? I don’t play Pac-Man that much! There was more change in my pocket in the old carny days!”

Psst, Hawkeye. Definitely sign up for the stipend check from Stark.

Another thousand a week will go a long way to keeping you living the can afford food standard of living you’re accustomed to.

He manages to find a bag of potato chips to snack on but decides he’ll have to see if he can find an actual square meal at Avengers Mansion.

Likely. Jarvis seems the sort to keep the fridge well-stocked and heck he’d probably make something if asked.

Anyway, Hawkeye being Hawkeye, he’s not going to take the elevator or stairs. He’s definitely going to fire a cable arrow so he can swing down from his balcony. Because, of course he is. He’s Hawkeye.

And he lands right in front of a taxi, the driver of which calls him a nut

Hawkeye: “You want a star in your cab or not?”

Turns out? No. Hawkeye has to walk to Avengers Mansion and arrives late because the cabbie won’t give him a free ride.

Meanwhile at Avengers Mansion (which fails to elicit the same kneejerk emotional response as ‘meanwhile at the HALL of JUSTICE’ from me), the She-Hulk clothing montage has occurred off-screen.

For shaaaame, James Shooter. And also Steven Grant.

She-Hulk isn’t so sure about the outfit Wasp put together for her.

Wasp: “I call it Arabian Night -- a blend of suppleness, strength and sensitivity to highlight your true nature!”

She-Hulk: “Don’t you think it’s a little... unusual?”

Wasp: “You’re an unusual woman, Jennifer! Your clothes should say that! We want a complete image that’ll drive me wild at the sight of you!”

She-Hulk: “Got anything that’ll drive that jerk Hawkeye one way to oblivion?”

I don’t know if fashion can do that but if anyone could design that, Wasp could. Her or Giger.

Wasp tries to defend Hawkeye but can only manage “he’s okay, just a little... um, well, you know!” but suggests that She-Hulk just be nice to Hawkeye to throw him off.

Which. Sounds like a funny idea.

Anyway, I like the outfit. The colors work for her. And maybe it’s because there are a couple Dragon Ball outfits like this but it feels appropriate for her. Because of the punching.

Iron Man comes in and goes ga-ga multiple punctuation over She-Hulk’s new look, which I guess proves that Wasp hit where she was aiming.

Wasp: “Oh, more flattery! More! I love it! And this is just the beginning. Wait until you see the fighting togs I’m designing for her!”

So I guess that this is just an outfit to look good in and Wasp is still working on the superhero outfit. Can’t wait to see it.

Captain America and Thor come in and Thor too praises She-Hulk’s new look.

Thor: “By Odin’s beard! What emerald beauty stands before us?”

They date later. Its one of those ‘wow expected this to happen way sooner than 2018 honestly’ things.

And then Hawkeye comes in.

He also loses his shit over She-Hulk’s new look. But in more of a Hawkeye way.

Hawkeye: “Waitaminit! Is it Cheryl Tiegs? Loni Anderson? No! It’s the new fashion plate -- the Savage She-Hulk! Talk about trying to get silk purses from sow’s ears!”

You’re a rude, Hawkeye.

She-Hulk storms towards him, offended, and just lifts him bodily.

And kisses him.

Then drops his ass on the ground.

I guessss remembering and putting her own spin on Wasp’s suggestion?

People need to stop kissing each other for spite and revenge reasons, honestly.

I do get a laugh at Hawkwye demanding a rematch. Can’t imagine what form that’d take. But its funny.

I kind of have a problem with the scene, beyond the people kissing each other for spite and revenge thing. Prior to joining the Avengers, the issue where She-Hulk got her pink Cadillac was Marvel Two-In-One #88 where she spent nearly the entire issue hitting on the Thing to his discomfort. And the joke was Ha Ha Sexually Assertive Women.

I really hope that we do not have that again.

Anyway, the other Avengers get some yuks over She-Hulk’s method of shutting up Hawkeye.

Iron Man even suggests that Hawkeye and She-Hulk have just had their first date to Hawkeye’s dismay.

Seriously, someone write an Avengers code of conduct and then create an HR department.

MEANWHILE, CHANGING THE TOPIC AND THE SCENE

In Egghead’s secret Manhattan laboratory.

Egghead: “No, it’s not fair! All I ever wanted was to rule the world -- is that so much to ask? I’m 52. That doesn’t give me many years left -- that idiot Henry Pym blew what may have been my last chance!”

Hah at Egghead having a baby tantrum over being thwarted. And I guess good to know that Hank screwing up the plan by calling the Avengers did screw over more than Hank Pym.

Hank may have saved the world, actually. Good job, Hank.

Egghead laments that he wishes he had another good plan but kind of put all the eggs, hah, in the unstoppable adamantium robots basket.

And then his sexy maid Anna chimes in with a suggestion.

Wait, why does Egghead of all villains have a sexy maid? Who seems to have a crush on him? Why is this a thing? Who in or out of universe looks at Egghead and thinks ‘yes this man is a sexual dynamo’?

Eh, whatever.

Anna: “Vhy don’t choo just buy the vorld, darlkink?”

Egghead: “Anna! Vhat... er, what did you say?”

Anna: “You should make a lot ov money und buy the vorld!”

Egghead: “Work?! Disgusting!”

This is probably the only time I will ever be able to say this but I agree with Egghead.

Anna: “No, no, no! Just invent somethink that everyvun vants -- a cure for baldness, mebbe... or eternal youth!”

Egghead: “That’s silly, Anna! Or is it?”

IT IN FACT WASN’T!

Egghead suddenly stands up, dumping sexy maid Anna to the floor, as he realizes that she’s right! If Egghead could invent cell rejuvenation to give people eternal youth, the world would be his oyster! People would give anything for it!

Granted, he has no idea how to invent cell rejuvenation but that’s tomorrow’s problem. Today’s problem is the logistics. He’ll need research, money, equipment and most importantly of all lackeys to steal all that stuff for him so he won’t have to Effort!

So moments later, Egghead signals a robot spy capsule that he has monitoring Atlantis at all times just because.

Egghead’s spy capsule launches a guided missile at an Atlantean prison, busting out someone mysterious unless you happened to glance at the cover.

And we go from one prison to another prison to pop in on Hank Pym at Ryker’s Island.

Ryker’s is apparently the go-to supervillain prison.

And whoops Hank Pym is one now, at least according to the law. What with being caught with all that stolen adamantium and the mind control prosthetic arm.

Hank Pym: “It just doesn’t make sense! All I tried to do was redeem myself, but things just got out of control! Egghead’s responsible for this! He committed the crime I’m accused of -- and made sure I can’t prove it! Why doesn’t anyone believe me?”

Probably because you did do the crime and were caught in the act and you wouldn’t explain yourself fully afterward. Just saying.

Hank Pym: “Jan! That’s where it all went wrong! If I could get her back, everything would work out! I know it!”

Hank Hank Hank... You’re suddenly a romantic.

A guard yells at Hank that its food time and then further yells that his son had looked up to Hank, which causes Hank to reflect whoops he let down more than just Jan and the Avengers.

When Hank sits down to eat prison chow, he’s accosted by Dave Cannon aka WHIRLWIND aka I guess Hank’s backup archnemesis?

Hank isn’t really spoiled for choice with good archnemeses so he either has Egghead or spin around real fast man.

At least Dave Cannon aka Whirlwind is trying to go for the personal lowblow. That’s a decent, if gross, archnemesis move.

He insinuates that hey if Jan divorced Hank that means Dave has a chance with her and he’s going to visit her as soon as he jailbreaks out of here today.

I’m sure he does have a chance. Like a snowball’s in hell, maybe.

Hank tells Dave to shut up because shut up, Dave.

But Dave ups the ante by suggesting that after Hank Pym gets out of jail in maybe ten or twenty years, he and Jan will hire Hank to be their chauffeur.

So Hank smashes a tray of food in Dave’s face because shut up, Dave.

He also starts punching him because in for a penny.

And because Hank totally started that ‘fight’ the guards haul Hank off for a month in solitary.

You wouldn’t think Hank’s life could get worse in every issue he appears in but you would be wrong.

And wouldn’t you know it? As soon as Hank is out of the room, the jailbreak starts without him.

He doesn’t even get to participate in activities now! Geez, Dave Cannon! You’re ruining prison for Hank.

Anyway, the mysterious figure from the Atlantis jailbreak scene is now jailbreaking Ryker’s and iiiiiits TIGER SHARK!

A guy I know almost nothing about!

-google- Ah, Namor foe. That explains him being a shark man.

He used to be an Olympic swimmer who injured his spinal cord when he rescued a drowning man. So a pretty good guy, starting off. Then to heal his spine he participated in an experimental procedure where Namor and tiger shark DNA was blended with his own and he became a shark man and an asshole.

I think that’s the Namor DNA personally. It makes people into jerks. And Namor is 100% Namor DNA so you can imagine what a jerk he is.

I’ve gotten lost in the weeds.

Tiger Shark busts in through a supposedly impregnable prison wall. The guards try to shoot him with ‘special weapons’ but Tiger Shark thwarts them with a special weapon of his own.

A TABLE!

Which he uses to block the shots and then hit them with.

They were fools to put their faith in high-falutin’ technology when they could have been investing in low-falutin’ carpentry.

That’s right, they should have gotten wooden guns.

With the guards tabled for now, Tiger Shark collects Scorpion and Whirlwind.

That’s two supervillains on his shopping list but there’s one more to get.

So the three detour over down to the women’s wing while the jailbreak of everyone else keeps the guards very busy.

And they find Dr. Karla Sofen, Ordinary Criminal Psychologist who got superpower from a space rock. Y’know, a Moonstone.

She has a few follow-up questions before she throws in with these goons but Tiger Shark isn’t a good conversationalist.

Tiger Shark: “You wanna get snuffed right here, lady?! Move! Negotiations are closed!”

She grudgingly accepts these terms. The caption box says so.

The four supervillains take a remote controlled escape boat and escape on a boat.

Later, in a safehouse on Long Island Sound, the four supervillains are all costumed up and already feeling cooped up with each other. It is a small house and they are all big personalities.

Tiger Shark and Whirlwind even get into a fight when Tiger Shark complains about waiting and about suburbia and Whirlwind tells him to shut up. And by fight I mean Tiger Shark smacks Whirlwind in the head. Because its Whirlwind.

Ant-Man’s backup archnemesis. And Tiger Shark fights Namor. Its a mismatch.

But its enough of a ‘fight’ to cause a stir.

Egghead: “Stop your silly squabbling! Fighting among yourselves won’t further my plans!”

Moonstone: “Wha -- ?! Egghead?!”

Tiger Shark: “What’s an Egghead?”

Hah.

I don’t know why this exchange amuses me so much.

Egghead is perfectly happy to introduce himself slash ramble on and on with words words words. He is PERHAPS the world’s greatest genius (hahahahah noooo) but says he may find a cure to Tiger Shark’s “repugnant amphibious condition.”

Egghead: “If you all follow me without question, you’ll share in my forthcoming power and wealth! In addition to being bodyguards, you’ll perform various tasks for me -- beginning tonight, when you loot a certain Manhattan medical research center to obtain data and supplies! Cross me -- and no one will ever hear from you again!”

I’ll make fun of Egghead any day of the week but I’ll give him this. He evidently delivers this speech with such conviction that ‘shark man who fights Namor’ just nods and apparently thinks yes this sounds legit.

And lets be honest, between Whirlwind, Scorpion, Moonstone, and Tiger Shark none of them look at this eggheaded guy threatening them and think about trying something.

Egghead appoints Moonstone his deputy and team leader. Because, he says, she’s such a well-trained follower.

Okay, okay, okay. Okay.

So, Dr. Karla Sofen first appeared as a henchwoman to Dr. Faustus.

But then she tricked the original Moonstone into giving the moonstone to her and became the new Moonstone. And here I didn’t even know there was an original Moonstone.

My point being, yes, early on you might look at Moonstone’s history and think ‘yes she’s definitely a subordinate person who won’t give me trouble’ but from a modern perspective?

I know Modern Moonstone for basically being the Starscream of whatever team she’s on. Starting from Thunderbolts at least, she’s never the boss, she’s happy being the deputy but she’s always scheming and manipulating and undermining her boss.

I really want this to be a hilariously bad judge of character Egghead has made. I really do.

Meanwhile, Whirlwind thinks that he’ll play along with Egghead’s plans. Until he gets bored.

And then I guess he gets bored like five seconds later because he decides that since the job Egghead wants them to do isn’t until evening, he can go visit Wasp.

And yeah. We scene transition to Avengers Mansion and Whirlwind is just lurking in the bushes spying on Wasp’s limo.

Inside the mansion, with the Avengers’ meeting over, the Avengers all get ready to go about the rest of their business.

Hawkeye saying he has to get home gets She-Hulk to start musing on how she hasn’t had a real home since she left Los Angeles.

Which she did for... reasons? She seemed like she was going to stay in LA at the end of her original Savage She-Hulk book. She probably did it so she could do crossovers. That makes sense.

Wasp tells She-Hulk that since Tony doesn’t charge rent, She-Hulk can just stay at Avengers Mansion for a while. And in a couple days, she’ll take She-Hulk apartment hunting.

Wasp is a good friend.

She heads out to her limo and tells Mr. Carrothers to take her to her Manhattan apartment.

BUT WHOOPS iiiiiiiiiits Whirlwind!

He knocked out Mr. Carrothers over the head and stashed him in the bushes. Wow, being Wasp’s chauffeur is very eventful.

Whirlwind: “Forget him. I’m the man in your life now! I figure with your ex in the slammer, you’re gonna need an understanding shoulder to lean on -- .”

And then Wasp shrinks down and shoots Whirlwind in the face.

Wasp: “That’s awfully considerate of you. But next time send flowers first, okay? By the way, have you ever met me bio-electric sting?”

Get rekt, Whirlwind.

This has been a really good span of issues for Wasp. I’m boggling a little. My standards weren’t super high to be honest but this has been good.

I mean, aside from her wearing her Avengers #194-196 costume again. The one with only one pant leg. Of all your costumes to wear under normal clothes, why this one, Jan?

Outside the limo, Hawkeye is trying to sneak back into the mansion to raid the pantry and hoping everyone else has gone.

Because he doesn’t want them to know that two-jobs Hawkeye is having money trouble, I guess? But dude, just confide in Jarvis. He’s a good guy.

Anyway, point being, because of Hawkeye’s hungry little tummy, he sneaks back to the mansion in time to see flashes of energy from inside Jan’s limo.

Hawkeye runs to Jan’s rescue and instantly gets blasted by Moonstone who has just arrived to yell at Whirlwind for taking off without her permission.

Whirlwind says he doesn’t have to answer to Moonstone and a presumably very frustrated Moonstone answers yes he does, that is the very thing he has agreed to when he joined the new Masters of Evil!

I feel maybe announcing loudly that you are the new Masters of Evil right in front of the Avengers is kind of jumping the gun.

Not to mention having the whole time show up to pose like a team just to pull Whirlwind’s butt out of the fire but like I said, this isn’t a very impressive seeming iteration of the Masters.

They do have this much, at least. Hawkeye recognizes each one of these bozos (muffled foghorns from Titan Up the Defense way) and recognizes that he and Wasp are outpowered in addition to being outnumbered.

Reinforced by Tiger Shark just smacking Wasp out of the air.

I think her one legged outfit is slowing her down.

So Hawkeye fires a flare arrow to try to summon help.

Remember when the Avengers had radio rings? That’d probably be a less obvious way to signal for help. Because Moonstone sees Hawkeye shoot a flare arrow that LIGHTS UP THE AREA and shoots him for sending up a signal.

And then she turns to the others and goes “Why didn’t you blunderers stop him?”

Its a good point. Tiger Shark points out though that she didn’t stop him either.

Again: not a very impressive iteration of the team.

Whirlwind, trying to put on the pragmatic hat way too late, says that they should kill Hawkeye and skedaddle because fighting in front of Avengers Mansion makes him nervous.

But he’s still Whirlwind so he’s still gross so he thinks to himself that he wants to grab Wasp before they go.

And what, dude? You gonna keep her under your bed? WHATS YOUR CREEPY ENDGAME?

On second thought, I don’t want to know. Geez, this is awful but I’m glad that Wasp died in Ultimate comics before an exceptionally creepy Ultimate Whirlwind could show up and keep her in a well or something.

Hey, maybe if we tell Whirlwind that Living Laser is also obsessed with Wasp, the two will fight to the death and I won’t have to deal with either one!

Anyway. Off-track. Anyway.

With a sound of thunder, a Perfectly Ordinary Uru Hammer THOOMs by smacking every villain before returning to Thor’s hand.

Yeah, fighting in front of Avengers Mansion? Really dumb!

Thor: “Stand back, perfidious mortals, or face the wrath of Thor!”

Wasp: “Huh? Thor! I always thought you were handsome -- but you never looked better than you do now!”

Thor: “Fair Wasp, thou art safe in my hands!”

Wasp: (Mmmm! Don’t I wish!)

Well, you’re free to play the field now, Wasp. Go for it.

Meanwhile, over in Avengers Mansion, She-Hulk hears the racket and gets up from her nap to see a supervillain battle taking place on the street in front of the Mansion and just kind of sighs about New York being like this.

Again again: fighting in front of Avengers Mansion? REALLY DUMB!

Moonstone even realizes it.

Moonstone: “This is insane -- wasting our energy battling the Avengers for nothing!  We’ve got to end this fight and escape!”

She tells Scorpion to take Thor which either shows a high esteem of him or a very low regard. Either way, Scorpion is happy to try, tail-whipping Thor through the air.

Inside the mansion, She-Hulk decides that the only way to get some peace and quiet is to throw hands. Side benefit: she’ll also get to prove herself to the Avengers.

But I like that the primary reason is that she just wants to have a dang nap and this nonsense is preventing it.

So she OH YEAHs through the window because heck Tony Stark will pay to fix it and runs towards the battle.

Haha look at that tiny alarmed Jarvis in the window. I love that kind of background detail. Amazing.

Wasp takes a break from, I dunno fantasizing about Thor, to fly over in a panic.

Wasp: “Oh, no! That outfit is an original! Tear it -- and I’ll never speak to you again!”

She sure has her priorities. I think maybe she doesn’t think these new Masters of Evil are all that threatening.

Maybe she shouldn’t be so worried though. She-Hulk just jumped through a glass window and the outfit looks untouched.

She-Hulk: “You can’t be serious?! You are. Ohhh... fudge! This is ridiculous!”

She definitely had to stop herself from saying an f-bomb.

So She-Hulk stops running to help Thor and sits down to start pulling the Van Dyne Original outfit off so Wasp won’t friend break up with her.

I’m sure Thor is doing fine though.

Ha ha, just kidding.

Moondragon is keeping him pinned down with her laser blasts and Tiger Shark hits him with something almost as powerful as TABLE.

A CAR.

Tiger Shark: “That Avenger creep thinks he’s the strongest there is. Me, I can withstand the pressures of the ocean’s floor without breathing hard. So when you’re talking strength -- you’re talking Tiger Shark!”

Hey, cool! Its the same thing writers use to argue Aquaman Strong Actually. I wonder if this actually predates that. It’d be funny if Tiger Shark preempted Aquaman in anything.

Wasp (while blasting Scorpion in his Scorpion neck) asks Thor if he’s okay but I think Thor is more annoyed than endangered by being ganged up on by the villains.

Thor: “Aye, the villain’s cowardly attack availed him naught against the might of Thor! I would see this battle ended!”

Tiger Shark basically says ‘nuh uh’ or “Together we can turn him into hamburger!” but then someone punches Tiger Shark from behind and knocks him out.

Scorpion: “Who in -- ? Some chick from Frederick’s of Hollywood?”

She-Hulk: “Don’t tell me you don’t know who I am! I don’t want to hear it!”

So, yeah, She-Hulk has arrived. In her underwear. So she doesn’t offend Wasp.

I guess after the Moondragon arc, Wasp is paying forward the wardrobe embarrassments.

Very rude, Jan.

Hawkeye is also up and raring to arrow. And he nails Whirlwind with said shock arrow annnd knocks him out.

Yup, this is the part of the book where we’re running out of pages so the villains start going down really easy.

Next, Wasp shoots Moonstone and She-Hulk multi-tasks by punching Moonstone into Scorpion and knocking both of them out.

Which means that She-Hulk is MVP of this fight. She arrives the latest but knocks out the most people. Good job, She-Hulk. Even Hawkeye admits that she did pretty good (qualified with “for a beginner!” which She-Hulk just laughs off.)

Meanwhile, in his hidden laboratory, Egghead is thinking that you can’t get good help these days.

Egghead: “Fools! We would have destroyed the Avengers eventually! There was no need to upset my timetable!”

But its only a minor setback and he considers that this stomp may leave them more willing to see that his ideas are best ideas.

I really hope that everyone pins the blame on Whirlwind when Egghead inevitably has to break them out of prison again to assemble his Masters of Evil again.

Hm, and I didn’t wonder this before but why Masters of Evil as a team name? He has no connection with any of the previous iterations, I don’t think. Weird.

Back at the mansion, the Avengers stand around being pretty pleased with themselves for beating up a bunch of people who attacked them for no reason and sucked at it.

The only sour note is that Wasp lost yet another limo (to Tiger Shark’s deadly CAR attack) but even then she says she was ready to trade it in on a DeLorean anyway.

Wait, aren’t DeLoreans known for having disappointing performance for a car and adequate performance as a time machine? Wasp, why are you getting a DeLorean, you kook!

She-Hulk, who sold her dignity to keep Jan’s friendship, suggests that the two of them go looking for new cars together.

OH RIGHT. Issue started with She-Hulk’s poor lamented pink Cadillac being junked. That’s bookends, it is. They’re the Sisterhood of the Broken Cars now.

So a very decent story!

Stuff is being setup with Egghead, the Hank Pym plot thread is still going, and we’ve got a new Avengers roster to settle into.

Although. Between the Moondragon arc and this, I’m wondering if clothing mishaps is going to be a running joke going forward and I hope not. Or at least let the guys in on it. Let Thor get locked out of the house in his underwear. It is only fair.

To the readers, if not the characters.

Although, I guess that is kind of what happened in the Molecule Man story. Tony Stark stuck in only his underwear and had to wear Ordinary Doctor Donald Blake’s jacket around his waist.

Not much more to say about this. Its a solid issue.

Follow @essential-avengers​. Because: reasons. Also like and reblog. Because: similar but different reasons. Selling myself is hard.

[yavemiel]

life after war

Summary: This is what life after war looks like, not just surviving, but living.

Rating: PG-13

Notes: This is for the incredibly lovely @spacepandar for the Rebelcaptain Secret Santa, who requested: 'A simple, peaceful RebelCaptain scene (could be set in the SW-verse or AU)', and who is also the creator of the stunning art by which the vignettes are inspired (go and check out her art tag, it's incredible!).

This story is also available on AO3 here.

This is what life after war looks like.

Jyn runs down the ramp of her transport, heartbeat echoing in her ears, thumping against her bruised ribs, but she doesn’t care, doesn’t care, doesn’t care because somewhere down there, somewhere on this base, Cassian is waiting for her. She hasn’t seen him yet, but she can feel it in her bones.

She turns one corner, then another, scouring the crowds ceaselessly, countless reunions taking place before her eyes, laughter and tears and shouts, but she can’t find him and...wait.

Stop.

There he is, almost blended into the background, a spy to the last, even though the war is over now (the war is over now). His eyes are scanning the crowd, roving restlessly and she can feel a smile spreading over her face as her whole being calms, bodily aches fading away at the sight of him.

He spots her as she moves towards him, weaving her way through the soldiers and a smile lights up his face, weariness banished by joy. He moves towards her too, and suddenly they’re standing in front of each other and she stops dead still, almost afraid to touch him now that the moment is here.

She opens her mouth to say something, anything, but then their eyes meet and her breath catches and whatever he sees on her face breaks the spell and he sweeps her into his arms, holding her tightly and she smiles into his neck and brings her own arms up to hug him back just as tightly.

The base continues bustling around them, but Jyn doesn’t notice or care. She’s home.

**

This is what life after war looks like.

Jyn’s ribs are aching again and she can barely catch her breath. She feels almost light-headed from the lack of oxygen, can feel her diaphragm hitching as she attempts to get air in, but she can’t help it, she just can’t stop laughing.

Next to her she can feel Cassian’s body shaking with hysterical laughter as well, and her own hilarity fades briefly as she forces her weeping eyes open to take in the sight of his face so close to hers, smile so wide it looks almost painful, the genuine joy on his features erasing the extra years that the stress of fighting a war added.

Then she looks back at Kay, suspended by both feet a good two metres from the ground, his face as annoyed as it can be without mobile features, and she bursts out laughing all over again.

“I fail to comprehend the hilarity in this situation,” he says snippily. “I am in a position of peril, and the two of you are utterly useless.”

Jyn feels Cassian straighten slightly as he attempts to control his laughter, although his speech still has little hiccups of mirth.

“Kay, we told you that there were no bears in this part of Takodana, we told you that the traps were dangerous and that someone would end up caught in them accidentally, and if you can’t understand the irony of finding you literally hoist to your own petard, I’m not sure I can explain it to you.”

Despite his words, he wanders over to the release mechanism in the root of the trap as Jyn continues to giggle.

“Irony is the most pointless of human creations, and I wouldn’t waste processing space on attempting to comprehend something that is at heart, illogical and simply AAAAAAAAK.”

Kay crashes to the ground in a tangle of metal limbs as Cassian hits the release mechanism and as Jyn is overtaken by another wave of helpless mirth, she meets Cassian’s laughing eyes and thinks, yes, this is what we fought for.

**

This is what life after war looks like.

Cassian loves his new life, he truly does. Settling down with Jyn in a small village in the outer rim in a place that is neither Fest nor Lah’mu but some lush haven that is entirely their own, making friends with the neighbours without ulterior motives, frequent visits from Bodhi and missives from Baze and Chirrut as the latter drags the former around various sand dunes as far as he can make out: this is a life he couldn’t have imagined five, even two years ago, before Jyn blew into his life like a whirlwind, opened his heart and rekindled his optimism and showed him something to live for after the fight was done.

The problem is though, Jyn’s not here right now, and hasn’t been for almost a week, and Cassian is bored.

Whatever complaints he has about his time in the Rebellion (and he has complaints, just not as many as Jyn thinks he should have, and they kind of disagree about the things he’s complaining about), he can’t remember a single moment of boredom. Long flights through hyperspace were filled with intelligence reports or the precious chance to catch an hour’s uninterrupted sleep, ‘down time’ was filled with more reports, repairs to Kay’s chassis or (rarely) a game of sabaac with Kes and Shara.

Now however, faced with his fifth consecutive day of busy work, he’s stumped. Kay has gone with Jyn, their cottage is the cleanest it’s ever been, he’s organised and re-organised their holodisk collection three times and he’s finally come to the reluctant conclusion that Jyn might be right.

He needs a hobby.

Unfortunately he has no idea where one begins looking for such a thing. He wanders round the house aimlessly for a few hours before reluctantly sitting down at their data centre and logging onto the holonet.

His hands hover over the keys for a moment before he hesitantly types in ‘hobby for men’. He waits briefly as the page loads, then his eyes widen and he hits the ‘back’ button as fast as he possibly can, because honestly, what is wrong with people?

He considers more carefully this time before searching for ‘games to waste time’. He scrolls quickly past the first-person shooter games, because honestly, he’s had enough of that to last a lifetime. He plays a few rounds of a memory game that requires him to match up covered tiles, but quickly tires of that and moves onto something that bills itself as ‘gentle fun, making friends with animals and designing your own space’ which...huh. He designs his avatar and logs in.

Three hours later he hears the door slam and he jumps but doesn’t get up from his desk. Mere minutes after that, he hears footsteps behind him and then a familiar scent and a familiar voice capture his senses.

“What’s so interesting that I didn’t merit a welcome after five days away?” She sounds amused, and he can feel his body swaying towards her, like a parched man towards water, but he only needs one more pear and then he’ll have completed all his tasks for the day and the animals will be fully fed.

She leans closer over his shoulder and he resists the urge to lean back into her because the mood has changed, it’s a game now, and well, he always was competitive.

“Animal...Crossing?”

“It’s fun,” he says, taking mock offense at the incredulity in her voice. “And I just have to find one more pear and then I’ll be done for the day.”

She slides an arm around his waist and slips closers so she’s talking directly into his ear. “And is this pear more important than greeting your wife after five days apart?”

He can feel his resolve weakening, his whole being longing to be near to her after a very long five days, but he only smirks in response and says, “Well you know how goal-oriented I can be, my love.”

He can feel her smirk as she lowers her lips to his neck, her whisper raising the hairs there. “I think you’ll find I’m pretty good at providing distractions.”

He shudders and his head lolls forward. He makes a last ditch effort to focus on the screen in front of him, but Jyn trails her lips up to the lightning spot behind his ear and sucks gently and he keens slightly and gives it up as a lost cause, turning to envelop her in his arms and press kiss after kiss to her laughing mouth, animals and pears utterly forgotten.

**

This is what life after war looks like.

He worries sometimes.

It all seems a little too good to be true, this new life they’ve built for themselves rooted in light and joy. He worries about what happens when someone finds out about their past, about Jyn’s father, about the murders he committed in the name of the Rebellion, the blood on her hands, on his, worries that they will be driven out of this safe place by outraged neighbours.

(Their neighbours are no fools and can guess that the newcomers with watchful eyes and concealed weapons have a past, but so does everyone, and as long as they pull their weight and do no harm, the villagers consider the past to be in the past where it belongs)

She worries sometimes.

She worries that maybe it’s not enough, maybe she’s not enough, that Cassian will be bored, will question his decision to leave the Rebellion to live a life of quiet domesticity in a tiny village with her. She worries about what will happen when the next war comes (because there’s always another war), if he will feel the call to arms, the strings of duty tugging his limbs and heart and mind back to the battlefield away from her, because her warring days are done.

(Cassian is done with war, done with battlefields, done with anything that doesn’t involve Jyn and happiness. He tries to show her by throwing himself into every part of their life, by externalising his satisfaction as much as he can, but he knows she won’t believe it until they come asking for him again and he turns them down, because that past is the past and that’s where it belongs)

They worry sometimes.

It’s only human, and they’re only human, muddling their way through their life together, and most of the time, it’s fine, they’re fine. Sometimes though, it all becomes too much. Cassian flinches at perfectly ordinary questions from neighbours, Jyn’s heart leaps into her throat when she spies Cassian watching the holonews, and on days like that, they retreat together, back into the one space that was always theirs alone even when they were in the Rebellion. They lie in bed together, with the curtains closed and the lights off, curled into one and other, barely able to make out each other’s features, and into the darkness they drop their fears and give comforting words and take comfort in the warm press of bodies tangled together.

(They set the world to rights, the past back in the past where it belongs, and Jyn and Cassian drift off to sleep in each other’s arms where they belong)

**

This is what life after war looks like.

Funnily enough, it’s a holopic that makes it click for Jyn.

The Rebellion is years behind them now, streaks of grey at Cassian’s temples and proud laugh lines around Jyn’s eyes, and yet still sometimes she eyes the comm unit with suspicion when Leia comms, waiting for that call to arms that will take Cassian from her.

She’s in Cassian’s study, a grandiose name for a tiny alcove in which he has set up a computer and comms unit and all the papers he needs to do accounts for everyone in the village. She’s looking for a particular sheet of paper in a pile of neverending papers, cursing Cassian and his need to keep a copy of every single thing, when she glances up and does a double take.

Tucked up next to the comm unit is a holopic, right at where Cassian’s eye line would be. It’s of the two of them, from years ago, just after they moved to Takodana, tucked into one another and smiling almost shyly at the camera, still a little uncertain, but joyful and free. She remembers Bodhi taking the holo, his laughing face as he demanded they stand in front of their new house for a picture because ‘this is a moment you’re going to want to remember forever!’

She feels tears spring to her eyes as she looks at it, a blatant reminder of the importance that Cassian places on them, and she can feel the uncertainty inside her snap like an overstretched band of elastic, replaced by a core of steel certainty, that this is it. They will last.

She doesn’t know how long she stands there but eventually Cassian comes looking for her, but she hastily wipes at her eyes as he slides into the alcove before her.

“Hey, have you found it yet? It should be under the...Jyn?” He trails off and becomes alarmed as he takes in the tear tracks on her face.

“What’s wrong?” He moves closer, taking her in his arms even as he glances rapidly around the tiny space, searching for the threat. She can’t take her eyes off him, reaches up to touch his face, drawing his attention back to her.

“Nothing’s wrong,” she says, unable to stop the massive smile spreading over her face. “In fact, everything is perfectly right.”

She stretches up to press a kiss to his lips, and despite his confusion she can feel him responding, softening, one arm sliding up her back to cradle her head, and she can feel a new wave of tears threatening at the tenderness.

She pulls back just far enough to look him in the eye. “I love you, you know.”

He still looks puzzled, but happiness is beginning to overtake. “I do, I know that. I love you too.”

She beams at him, and then looks back at the holo. “I think I finally figured out why you’re sticking around.”

She looks back at him and finds he’s followed her gaze. When he looks back at her, she can see the understanding in his face and she feels a swell of love as he completes the memory.

“Welcome home.”

                                                             fin

[myso-calledlibraryy]

Eleanor and Park

And here we have again a novel that perfectly depicts all the emotions of high school. I can’t tell if this is a real thing or if I was just constantly overly emotional and stereotypical. Genuinely leaning towards the stereotype because I can't remember the last time I saw a coming of age film that did not prompt “omg that is Maura” from all of my friends. 

Anywhoooo, this week I read the novel Eleanor and Park again for the first time since I was a junior in high school (ew). I seemed to have not changed a bit as all of my emotions were just as I remembered.

Eleanor and Park is written by Rainbow Rowell. Rowell has several other books all which I loved and had a similar coming of age theme. Rowell is from Omaha, where Eleanor and Park takes place. While living in Omaha she worked for a local newspaper as a columnist for many years. In 2011, she released her first novel, which was not YA, and the following year released Eleanor and Park. This novel, along with Fangirl, were critically acclaimed and among many top ten lists. In 2013, Eleanor and Park received scrutiny from parents due to its sensitive content(which we will get to soon) but Rowell replied with the fact that this stuff really happens. I commend Rowell for writing about such hefty topics, we cannot shelter children from the real world. Rowell currently resides in Nebraska with her husband and children and is currently working on writing some comic books. 

So let me begin by again saying that I love this book and I love books about love. I am so grossed out that I just said that. 

Eleanor and Park follows, well, Eleanor and Park on an epic little love story filled with chaos. Both kids struggle with their home life, bullies, and some gender expression, but in different ways that fit together perfectly. The novel is written in third person with different chapters focusing on either one. This makes it very easy to follow along even though you are taken on a bit of a crazy journey.

We start with Eleanor getting on the bus on the first day at her new school. She is at this new school because she is finally back living with her mom, siblings, and her mom’s AWFUL boyfriend Richie. Richie is incredibly abusive and had kicked Eleanor out of the house the year prior. Her mom is so sweet, but acts blind to the violence of Richie. The house they live in is only five rooms, with one of them being the fake room which is the bathroom in the kitchen separated by a sheet. Obviously the family is very poor and this is a struggle for Eleanor because all of the kids make fun of her. 

On top of having an awful home life, Eleanor is just so incredibly awkward. She is very tall and overall just kind of big, her bright red curly hair doesn’t help either. Eleanor also wears a lot of masculine clothes, which is how she chooses to express herself and the source of a lot of bullying. She wants to just blend in at her new school but the second she steps on that bus she becomes the target of bullying. 

When Eleanor is URGENTLY searching for a seat on the bus, the only available spot is next to Park. 

Park is half Korean, quite the rarity in Omaha, and this makes him the subject of a lot of racism and microaggressions. The opening scenes depict him sitting on the bus while Tina and Steve (gross nasty bullies I don’t care what nice things they do, they are gross and nasty) are questioning him about kung fu. Park has a much better home life than Eleanor with two very loving parents, but him and his father don’t always see eye to eye. Park puts a lot of pressure on himself to be the perfect man for his dad, but Park just always feels inadequate in this. This turns out to be something Eleanor really helps with and brings them closer together. 

How freaking perfect for a love story to start with two misfits finding each other on the bus. 

The two sit next to each other for quite some time and no one says ~anything~. These two little dorks just sit there in silence, but both are very happy to be sitting next to someone without admitting it. Park is happy to have a reason not to talk to the bullies and Eleanor is just happy not to be alone. 

Eleanor and Park begin to grow a silent bond. Eleanor reads Parks comic books over his shoulder and he begins to notice. She notices he notices when he waits to start his new comic book Watchmen (watch this show on HBO right now). When they get to her house, Park gives Eleanor the comic book to take with her and she reads it again and again that night. 

This where you really start to push for the couple. I was literally SHOUTING at the pages. I wanted Park to just like run up and kiss her. And then I would be like NO Eleanor be the strong woman we all know you are and make that move. But we have all been in high school and know it is most definitely not that easy. 

After exchanging comic books, Park finally has to talk to Eleanor. He notices the title of a Smiths song on her textbook and asks if she likes the Smiths. AND SHE HAS THE AUDACITY TO SAY NO AND THEN NOT SAY ANYTHING ELSE. If she was my friend I would’ve smacked her 100%. Eleanor stop being so freaking awkward and talk to the boy!!!! But yes of course I found it incredibly sweet how nervous he made her, I hate myself ugh. 

Then comes one of the best parts. Park makes the move of all moves. The mac daddy of all gestures. This boy goes on home and makes Eleanor a mix tape. So corny like gag, but literally this is what we want. If a boy makes you a mix you marry him. End of discussion. 

“Then he slid the silk and his fingers into her open palm. And Eleanor disintegrated.”

“Holding Eleanor’s hand was like holding a butterfly. Or a heartbeat. Like holding something complete, and completely alive.”

LIKE COME ON. I am such a dramatic baby but I promise you I cried at this. They are in LOVE. The way Rainbow Rowell writes this is just so good. I remember when the first real boy I had a crush on held my hand I talked about it for WEEKS. It is such a simple way to show affection but when you’re young it feels so special. Imagining this scene is so perfect and fills you with so much hope as to what is to come for the two little lovebirds. 

Now is when the story takes a bit of a turn for me. One night when talking on the phone, Park tells Eleanor that he loves her. The two begin to admit to each other that they need each other. As the relationship progresses it does kind of seem like they are a little too addicted to each other. Park is protecting Eleanor from the bullies at school and Eleanor starts to protect Park from his parents. They encourage one another in everything they want to do and help each other express themselves. I do wish this was something they were able to do on their own by each other’s side, but they seemed to really NEED each other which is a little problematic. Needing a significant other is definitely not something we should glorify to the young girl population this novel is geared towards. 

This qualm is not enough to ruin my love of the story though so we will move forward. 

As things at home get worse between Richie and Eleanor after she calls the cops on him one night, her relationship with Park is growing more and more. Eleanor is finally able to open up to Park about her family and it makes the two more comfortable with each other. 

On Christmas, Park’s mother breaks down about how she feels badly about the way she was treating Eleanor. She saw a lot of herself in Eleanor and almost resented her for it. After this, Park is more comfortable having Eleanor at the house and they spend the entire Christmas break there, 

At one point, towards the end of the break, we see Eleanor and Park both really tackle their gender expression. Park’s mom wants to give Eleanor a little makeover so she shows her how to apply eye liner using Park as a model. Both Eleanor and Park like the way it looks on him but his mother and father are not happy. Park is admitting he likes the way Eleanor dresses in boy clothes and she likes him in makeup. Neither of them care that this isn’t the norm, they know it makes themselves happy and now this is all they care about. The eye liner causes issues for Park with his dad but they are eventually able to resolve this.

This part of the book is SO important. Not only is it handled in a light way but it does leave an impression on the reader. When I read the novel the first time as a 16 year old, I remember loving how open they could be with each other. Now that I am older I am able to see the real gender expression that is there, but it still had the same effect. I think this is super important because it allows the reader to understand this situation in whatever way they can. While now, gender is much more widely talked about, in my high school this is something that never would’ve been talked about. When I read Eleanor and Park at that time I just thought they were super cool and I thought well that’s what love is about we have to support our significant other. Now I am able to see it for the much more serious thing that it is, but I still see the same message. 

Love people for their character and how they make you feel, not how they look or based off of what other people say. 

Shortly after this, Richie becomes even worse than we can imagine. Eleanor had been receiving really nasty notes in her textbooks and she finds out Richie had been leaving them. Now Eleanor knows how dangerous he is and she knows she has to run away. With the help of Park and surprisingly Tina and Steve the big bullies, Eleanor is able to escape to her uncle’s house.

Park drives her there and the two can’t let each other go when they arrive in Minnesota. They know they have to leave each other because it is what’s best for Eleanor but it is truly heartbreaking. 

Neither of them have ever felt so connected to anyone in their lives and now they have to say goodbye???? I cried for like four hours. It just felt all too real. Like not even kind of the same but I literally felt like I was leaving my high school boyfriend to go to college all over again. And like I thought that was the worst thing that could ever happen to me at 18. UGH I literally could cry again writing this. Ok lmao let’s not dwell on my lovely high school experience. 

Park goes back to Omaha and he starts to send Eleanor packages and letters. He constantly drives by her house just because he can’t stop thinking about her. And he never takes the bus again. 

Eleanor is literally me and cannot seem to find the will to confront her emotions and never opens anything Park sends her. She tells the girls at her new school she has never kissed a boy and she tries to leave the life with Park behind her. BUT do not get this twisted!!!!! This is because she loves him so much it hurts her. For girls like me and Eleanor with emotions too complex to even begin to understand sometimes it feels better to pretend they never existed. I know all too well though that this always makes it hurt more in the end. EMOTIONAL INTELLIGENCE IS YOUR FRIEND ELEANOR WE GOTTA USE IT!!!!!

I was then hit with an ending that ripped my heart out of my chest. Eleanor writes Park a letter finally. This letter has three words. Three words that could mean so much. One thing Eleanor was never able to do was tell Park she loved him. She was too afraid but she definitely felt it. And in that moment I know she was able to finally tell Park that. The two had the love story of a lifetime and I feel confident at the end of the book that they would end up together again.

SO YEA another book I LOVE. I find the emotions of high school just overly relatable, and maybe even a little refreshing? Eleanor and Park throws you back to a time in life with so much uncertainty. In high school we ask ourselves so many questions constantly and are faced with a lot of idk ~shit~. Both Eleanor and Park struggle with expressing their gender but together they grow to just be happy with who they are even if it doesn’t fit the mold. Rowell tackles domestic violence and abuse which is something very real that happens every day and we cannot hide that from young people. Eleanor and Park struggle with emoting as they both seem to have a lot of pent up emotions (therapy is your friend someone needed to tell them that). 

All in all GREAT. 

Maybe next week I will finally read a book that doesn't make me cry!

[arriyire]

Learn to Fly - A Fairy Tail Fic Ch. 14

Summary: The world is split into two realms - the mortal and the spirit. In this world, demons attack humans and the winged protect them. When Levy gets shoved headfirst into the spirit realm, she will have to adjust her whole way of living and learn to deal with a moody dragon winged Gajeel. AU vaguely based on the manga plot.

Rated: T

This was one of two scenes that inspired this whole story, and it was inspired by How to Train Your Dragon and the songs ��Where No-one Goes’ by Jonsi and ‘Into a Fantasy’ by Alexander Rybak

Chapter 14

Levy stumbled and fell forward again, barely catching herself before hitting the ground. Nearby she heard the concerned shouts of Jet and Droy and a manic laughter of Natsu as he chased Gray through the sky. Yes, today the guild had decided to teach Levy to fly. And it was going about as well as she had expected. All morning she had been following the variety teaching methods of the many guild members as they tried to gently (or not so gently) launch her into the sky. Apparently after a winged had shown they could use magic they would be ready to fly. Levy disagreed heavily. Repeatedly she had fallen after barely getting a foot off the ground her wings refusing to compromise or listen to her demands that they move in the way she was being shown.

Levy sat on the ground defeated as Droy tried to rouse her with cheers of encouragement, “You did really well! Maybe you just need some food?” Like a flash Jet was next to Levy with a sandwich and some lemonade, grinning like he won first place in a race. Droy looked rather dejected and decided to make Jet know that food was his idea! Lacking the energy to break up other one of their spats, Levy dove into the lemonade enjoying the cool sourness on the hot day.

During her rest Levy tried to formulate her escape before someone attempted yet another flying lesson. Maybe she could use her magic and escape in a puff of smoke? Testing her abilities she whispered the word smoke and used her finger to spell it in the air. After a minute it was clear nothing had happened and she sighed heavily ‘something else to add to the list of things I cannot do’ she thought rather depressingly.

Gajeel sat on a nearby tree branch, with one leg dangling off the edge and his back resting against its strong trunk. Eye’s closed and enjoying the day in the comfortable shade, Gajeel kept his ears trained on the hilarity going on beneath him. He sniggered as Levy repeatedly tried to get airborne and use her magic to escape her gruelling teachers; this was never going to work. Magic was an instinct all winged had not something that could be taught. She had stopped Jet before because she felt she had to, without that strong will to do something she wouldn’t be able to call it forth when she wanted to. Same with flying, she needed a situation where she needed….

Gajeel’s ruby eyes snapped open and a sinister grin grew on his face as his absent thoughts became a rather effective plan to get Levy in the air. Sure to some people it may be harsh, but it was guaranteed to work! Standing on the tree branch Gajeel blended into the shade the canopy above provided he waited for his opportune moment. Sure enough as the two cheerleaders ran to help their reluctant leader stand, they had stepped back just enough to give Gajeel a clear shot at the bookworm. Shooting forward, the branch he had been standing on nearly broken from the power, Gajeel grabbed Levy from literally under their noses and took to the sky without ever touching the ground. The sound of Gajeel’s laughter mixed in with Levy’s surprised scream was the only trace that either of them had been in the field.

Jet braced his wings ready to follow only to be stopped by Natsu who was also laughing wildly. “Let him try and get her flying, never know ol’ iron butt might have a good idea!” The fire dragon’s cheery demeanour did nothing to calm the panic within Jet about leaving Levy alone with Gajeel for any amount of time – even if he had protected her from Laxus. However when Natsu dragged him away from where he was standing with the desire to brawl, he tried to trust that she would be fine; after all he needed to worry about himself right now.

Levy’s panic lasted only a few moments when she realised who had grabbed her, fear quickly turned to anger as she listened him laugh uncontrollably at her terror.  Not thinking clearly, she tried to struggle out of his grip as he sped across the sky unaware he was the only thing right now, keeping her in the sky. It was no use either way, the man’s grip was ironically iron tight. Sensing her clear distress Gajeel merely laughed again and slowed his wing beats as he reached the human city.

Gajeel dropped Levy on top of a huge skyscraper in a nearby city. Levy stumbled barely landing on her feet, the footing was so narrow one false move and she would become a blue pancake on the pavement below. “Gajeel! Y-You asshole! What are you doing!?” Levy rarely cursed aloud but she felt circumstances justified it here.

Said asshole, landed much more gracefully on the roof leaving even less room for standing. “Alright shrimp, time for a real flying lesson.”  Now there was a set of words that scared Levy without a doubt.

Gajeel blatantly ignorant to the terror she was feeling continued. “All you gotta do is jump off this building – instinct will do the rest. Like riding a bike! Kind of...” Gajeel looked perplexed at his own comparison, while Levy searched for a ladder, rope or glider anything to get her down from here without use of her wings.

But Gajeel was having none of it quickly blocking her path with a muscled arm “Oh no you don’t short stuff you’re doing this now – even if we stay here all night” Truth be told Gajeel wouldn’t nearly be that patient. There was always Plan B if she didn’t start flying before his patience ran out.

“Gajeel. While I appreciate the help, I am clearly not ready to fly!” Levy tried to plead with the man, hoping her words would sway the kind man that she knew must be under there somewhere. The one, who had defended her from demons, took her flying and saved her from Laxus’ attack.

“You’re a winged now Levy, flying is lesson 101, besides your putting yourself at risk, if you can’t fly you can’t use magic and if you can’t do that you can’t protect yourself – someone isn’t always going to be there to save yer ass you know.” His words were harsh but true, their guild mates would do all they could to protect one another but she would quickly become a burden on everyone if she didn’t buck up and join the fray.

Still Levy protested “But what if I can’t fly!?”

Gajeel wanted to roar with laughter, can’t fly she said – this woman had wit and intelligence beyond compare, yet nothing in terms of self-confidence. Well it was time to fix that, actions speak louder than words they say and Gajeel is definitely a man of action.

“Do ya trust me?” Gajeel extended a rough hand out to Levy, a rare show of compassion and an even rarer invitation to the dragon’s personal space. Levy wordlessly took his hand, tiny fingers held to his palm looking for the reassurance he was trying to give. They stood side by side on the ledge of the building nothing but the open sky above them but all Levy could focus on was the unforgiving earth below, threatening her with a second untimely demise.

“Oi don’t look down.  Keep your head high and close your eyes.” His voice was soft but commanding, and while Levy wanted to argue; she was caught between the unforgiving ground and an unrelenting Gajeel who softy squeezed her hand. She breathed deeply calming her heart and did as he said, he felt her move his hand away from hers so she stood independently, but he was still nearby.

“Gajeel I’m still not…” A small voice began…

“Just do what I say a’ight?” Gajeel cut her off before she could protest again.

“Feel your wings on yer back, feel the magic in them and in your veins.” He stood firm overseeing Levy as she tested her wings, the overlapping pages quietly ruffled as they moved. She felt the magic humming in her veins as she focused, begging to be released with her wings, dying to fly. It was almost like they were alive, a separate entity from herself but still apart of her.  Levy steadily grew excited, the whispers from her wings pushing her further and further; but the moment she felt ready to try, the sight of the ground threw away her confidence and she would falter, clinging to the wall for safety.

Gajeel’s patience grew thin as he watched her nearing the edge and almost going for it, only to take a step back. After several repeating motions, he had finally had enough. Letting go of her hand he put his hand on her lower back, he briefly considered if what he was doing would be inappropriate but then decided he didn’t really care.

Levy froze at the motion, unsure what he was doing and even less sure if she should stop him. He gently pulled her closer to his side; hot breath reached her ear as she heard his signature ‘Gihi’ laugh followed by a single word.

“Sorry.”

With that she felt the pressure on her back increase and her body tip forward – in the heat of the moment it took a while for Levy to notice – the bastard pushed her off the building!

A scream escaped her lips as Levy’s body hurtled to the ground face first, the wind roared in her ears as she flailed her limbs looking for any kind of purchase; something that would halt her fall. Her mind raced trying to figure out how to fly, trying to make her wings move as she wanted them to but to no avail. The ground was racing towards her, Levy’s mind went blank as she waited for impact – the magic in her body quietly began to hum within her. Just as Gajeel said, her natural instinct finally kicked in and her papery wings snapped open and halted her decent. The feeling of lightness accompanied her body as her wings caught the air, without a second thought she pushed her wings downwards. With a single powerful flap and she had control – no longer nose-diving but soaring higher and higher, wing beats in symphony with her racing heart. As she reached the top of the building once again Levy gracefully twisted, steadily wing beats kept her hovering eye-level with a smug-ass dragon slayer who was about to get a piece of her mind!

“Gajeel! What the hell is wrong with you!? I could have died! Of all the irresponsible, pig-headed brutish things you could have done! I swear when I get my hands on you-“Levy’s rant died on her lips as he watched the man before her roar with laughter, he was practically bent over in tears the bastard!

Finally regaining some semblance of composure he said “Looks like I was right eh shrimp?” The smirk on his face might have been considered sexy if she wasn’t so pissed off.

Levy refused to acknowledge any semblance that Gajeel might be right about her or about her ability to fly. Saying that, she was flying just like he said, deny all she might she was proud of herself and somewhat thankful that he had pushed her. That didn’t mean he was going to get away with it though!

“You wanna punish me?” A sadistic grin grew on his face, sharp teeth smirking playfully. Levy felt her cheeks heat up at his suggestive wording and the way he casually eyed her up as his spoke.

“Better come and catch me then shrimp!” And he was off, launching off the building and straight past Levy into the horizon.

“Oh no you don’t! Face me like a man Gajeel!” She forced herself after him, homing on his dark form in the distance. Surprisingly it didn’t take long before he was in arms reach, Levy went to grab him only for him to dive out of the way, looping under her he was now flying above the smaller woman; he roughed up her hair before speeding off yet again. The force of his wing beat through Levy off balance as she growled at the man.

Their game of cat and mouse continued for hours, the desire for revenge slowly becoming one of friendly play. Gajeel was greatly enjoying tormenting the small bluenette, staying just in reach for her to try and grab him before acrobatically avoiding her at the last minute. As he broke through the cloud cover, he heard Levy gasp and halt completely in her pursuit. In a brief panic Gajeel turned to see large brown eyes in awe of the sight in front of her.

The sun cast orange and yellow into the blue sky forming purple streaks across cream clouds. It was a masterpiece, a symphony of colour that no picture, no words would ever do justice to try and describe. Even Gajeel couldn’t help but be enamoured by the sight alongside the bluenette, more so due to her own reaction to it. The two winged slowed their flight along the clouds quietly enjoying the sights, everything else forgotten – it was just them owning the sky before them.

Levy put her hands into clouds feeling the cool water vapour condense on her skin. Suddenly she knew what Gajeel meant by flying was ‘alright’; it was definitely something he couldn’t explain, even flying on his back was nothing compared to the way she felt now. She was alive with magic, it sparked invisibly on her finger tips like it had during the fight with Laxus. Testing herself she tried the word smoke again from her previous attempt at escaping, sure enough a tiny smoke word formed and rapidly dispersed. Levy grinned wildly and quickly checked Gajeel hadn’t seen; sure enough he was lazily flying nearby not really focusing and enjoying the sky.

Time for pay back.

Levy gracefully flew above Gajeel, as predicted he turned upwards to face her flying parallel to her. Levy smiled sweetly and released her magic dropping the word ‘iron’ on the unsuspecting dragon slayer’s stomach.

Levy now roared with laughter as Gajeel fell though the cloud cover, after several minutes however they become nervous giggles as she couldn’t see him coming back up. She peered down the hole in the clouds to see if she could spot him and began to panic – surely that hadn’t been enough to knock him out of the sky!

A loud cough behind her startled Levy as she momentarily lost control, fortunately her now experienced wings caught her again and she span round to see Gajeel holding the iron word in one hand with an amused grin on his face. Levy became increasing nervous realising that getting revenge was probably not her best idea.

Gajeel took a huge bite out of the word and finished it off with another, Levy stared completely dumbfounded as she watched the dragon winged eat metal. “Wh-what?!” She exclaimed in disbelief.

“Thanks for the meal, shrimp” Gajeel winked at her and began laughing as she continued to stare like Happy when you held a fish in front of him. Taking advantage of her stupor he closed the space between them and gently placed his hands on her upper arms. “You really shouldn’t challenge a dragon” He said closing his wings against his back, his weight dragged the pair downwards through the clouds towards the ground.

Instead of the scream he expected, Gajeel heard Levy laughing joyfully. The sound was contagious and soon enough he was laughing too! Letting go of her arms the pair nosedived like synchronised swimmers towards the ground. Soon a river came into view and became too close for comfort; they simultaneously snapped their wings open and skimmed across the water surface following the twists and turns at incredible speeds due to the momentum from falling.

Watching them was like watching a waltz, they twisted and turned in harmony never touching but always close grinning like it was the only thing they knew how to do. The tips of their wings broke the water surface, a trail of ripples the only proof they had even been here. Gajeel boldly barrel-rolled in front of Levy as the river dropped into a waterfall, following it down she followed without hesitance as they once again dived towards the lake below them.

Gajeel snapped his wings open once again and halted himself on the water’s surface and looked up to see Levy smirking wickedly. Instead of doing the same to meet him on the water surface, she barrelled straight into him knocking both of them into the water.

The water was freezing on their hot bodies (flying was hard exercise!) and the quickly crawled out onto the bank. Heavy breaths were interrupted with laughter as they both struggled to contain the euphoria in their bodies.

Happily they lay on their backs recovering for some time, before Levy just had to ask “How did you eat the metal?” She didn’t bother looking at him, remaining lay down staring at the slowly darkening sky.

“Dragon thing” He replied easily, however soon he realised that wouldn’t be nearly enough information to satisfy the shrimp so he added “Dragon’s and Dragon slayers have an element they associate with, one of the perks is being able to eat it”

“Does it taste good?” She probed further, hoping Gajeel would provide the answers to her questions

“Yea if the quality is good, that iron you made was the pure stuff. Might have to make you m supplier Gihihi” Gajeel entertained the thought of an unlimited supply of tasty iron courtesy of the bookworm; it could be payment for the flying lesson!

Soon the night air began to set in and Levy began to shiver against the cold.

Gajeel noticed immediately and stood up first cracking his legs as he went, “C’mon shrimp I’ll take you home”. Wordlessly Levy got her feet and the pair took off once again at a much tamer pace towards the guild. It only took them a few minutes to land outside of Fairy Hills, Gajeel grunted and turned to fly home when Levy caught his sleeve.

“Gajeel, Thank you” She smiled sincerely at his shocked face and threw her arms round his neck in a quick hug before running into the apartment block.

Gajeel stared at her back as she retreated before laughing once again. He loved it when he was right.

Full fic here - I own nothing except a vague plot, feel free to review/ask/be inspired and share with me anything you find :)

[ladyeomine-blog]

A Series of Unfortunate Events : the recipe to a good adaptation

This is a short analysis of the recent adaptation A Series of Unfortunate Events by Netflix. I will not mention everything here, it would require much more time and analysis but here is a general appreciation. Careful for spoilers ! Adaptations are quite tricky to accomplish because being true to the original work while bringing novelty to the piece is not so easy. The best adaptations are often the ones that manage to channel the spirit of the original work. A Series of Unfortunate Events is a very successful example of this. It was already visible in the first trailer where Lemony Snicket actually walks on the set of the filming to tell us not to watch this series. Right here, you have three core elements of the original series : our narrator-character, the breaking of the fourth-wall and the plea not to look into this horrific story. That last element actually is a known way to catch the reader/viewer’s attention and make him want to know more. When it comes to A Series of Unfortunate Events, the character of Lemony Snicket is crucial. Therefore the adaptation needs to be perfectly true to his features. As a child, I really believed Lemony Snicket was this mysterious author hidding from malevolent authorities. The fact that Lemony is actually out of the story ,since he is the author/narrator, and a full part of it builds the whole myth around this series. When I saw the movie, I did not get that feeling of mystery around Lemony mainly because it is not cleary explicited that he is part of all this : the viewer doesn’t see on-screen any important hint that Lemony is a central character of the story, he is presented above all as the writer. In the Netflix series, Lemony is the first person the viewer visually encounters, just like in the books. The fact that you can see him entirely makes him a reassuring presence throughout the show : he is your guide. The show stages this aspect very cleverly by blending Lemony in the situations the Baudelaires find themselves in, usually through his costume.

Thanks to this process, the narrator’s role is fully depicted. A narrator that addresses directly to the reader/viewer is usually out of the story and Lemony is indeed “out” since he is telling the events. But Lemony is also “in” as an important character. The show drops hints along the way which keep getting bigger gradually : his investigation, the letters to Beatrice, the fact that he is being chased, among other things, and of course the reveal of the picture with Olaf in the last episode.

All these proofs show that Lemony really is involved in this story. It is very fortunate that they kept the dedications to Beatrice at the beginning of each segment of the story because she is the one who ties Lemony to the story. She actually acts as his muse, she is the main reason why he writes, the name Beatrice being a reference to Dante’s own muse. Since he is an « in-between » character, literally the bridge between you and the story, Lemony is the one who constantly breaks the fourth-wall. This aspect is so crucial in A Series of Unfortunate Events. It allows Lemony to act as the antic chorus or Prologue : “If you are interested in stories with happy endings, you would be better off reading some other book. In this book, not only is there no happy ending, there is no happy beginning and very few happy things in the middle.” (The Bad Beginning). With those few lines, the essence of the plot is completely laid before your eyes, just like the ancient tragedies. In the series, apart from those lines, the opening song has the exact same role : “Every single episode is nothing be dismay.” The breaking of the fourth-wall is also at the core of both series because story-telling mecanisms are explained through it. In the Reptile Room, Lemony explains the dramatic irony which is then again an aspect of the antic tragedies. As I remember it, the book series crossed the fourth-wall to teach something to the reader : a word, writing techniques and less straightforwardly, literary references. All these elements were fortunately brought into the show as well. Now Lemony is mainly the one to break the wall, as allowed by his narrator status. What is unsettling for the viewer is when Count Olaf breaks it, usually to advertise the TV show and stare at the camera for a couple of seconds. This leads to the other important aspect of an adaptation : the creativity. The writers did not only represent Olaf, they actually add depths according to the new medium : what would Olaf do if he was in a TV series ? Break the fourth-wall and sing its opening sequence ! A short word on the amazing cast, especially Neil Patrick Harris who pulled out a very good Count Olaf. This character is very complex to play, he needs the right amount of villainy, humor and the talent of an actor who can play a character playing other characters. Jim Carrey brought too much of his own eccentricity to the character and you saw more of the actor than of the character. Neil Patrick Harris really understood and nailed all of Olaf's facets. Hence adaptations would be rather dull without creativity and novelty. Sure a lot of dialogues are actually taken word by word from the books because they are good as they are but an adaptation needs to adapt precisely even more when the media is different. A book and a  TV show are of course very different mainly because of the images. In a book, a description can only be completed by the reader's imagination. In a show, what you see allows very little space for imagination. This is why a successful adaptation is one that can get the spirit, the ambiance of the world, conveyed by the original words, and transcripts it on screen. From the language of worded images to the language of filming.

The unsettling ambiance, the faded colours and surreal pastel imagery are very fitting for the Baudelaires' story. The main aspect of the series is its dark humor and stories that you find rarely in children's book : one death if not more per book, usually a gruesome one. The TV show manages to render the baudelairian world : this very specific atmosphere, the feeling of being oppressed by all the places in which the Baudelaires find themselves.

Finally the most important aspect of an adaptation is that it must appeal to all audiences.What is complicated about making adaptations is that they are received by two different audiences : the one who knows the original material and the one who doesn't and their first interaction with the original universe is through the adaptation. That's why getting the atmosphere right is so important, it shows the specificities of the work in another way which should not “betray” the original story. An adaptation is full of references that will be immediately recognized only by the ones familiar with the original piece. These references show the adaptors love for the original work and also creates a complicity between them and the well-aware viewer. Which book lover did not scream at the sugar bowl in episode 2 or at those four simple words : the world is quiet here ?The beauty of references is that they are hidden, they could be seen as completely normal by an unaware viewer : the scene of the sugar bowl seems very innocent. It allows the adaptors to play on what the reader already knows. Take the first appearance of the Quagmire mother and father: most of the book readers thought them to be the Baudelaire mother and father even though they know very well it is impossible. This builds up until the revelation in the first part of the Miserable Mill. Not only this plays with the well-aware reader but also stages already the Quagmire trio and most of their backstory. Being already intertwined since the first episode with the main story, they meet naturally at the end of the season and do not appear previously unmentionned like in the books. As thrilling as this is, if the adaptation is only met for the experts, it won't be a total success. An adaptation also needs to speak to new viewers who have no knowledge of the original work. This is why there is a need for balance of references so the newcomer will not spent his time on Wikipedia trying to figure out what happens. How the series introduced right away the Quagmires is actually rather clever : it allows the newcomer not to be lost in all the key characters. Lastly, this show really catches the core humor of the original work by playing on the fact that it is an adaptation and therefore needs to depart sometimes from the original sequences. At the beginning of the Miserable Mill (episode 8), Mr. Poe freaks out because the Baudelaires are gone and in the middle of his panicked speech, he says : “It’s off-book !’. And indeed it is, because in the books the Baudelaires don’t go to Lucky Smells Lumbermill by themselves but are brought there by Mr Poe. An adaptation makes choices and the show plays on that aspect. Of course, this show would need a 300 pages-long essay because of all the references and allusions not only to literature but also foreshadowing the main story. This show completely smashes the movie adaptation which did not manage to really transcript well neither the atmosphere nor the characters. Remember, an adaptation is not a search of perfection because it will never be exactly like the original material. The change of medium requires changes in the story and the story-telling. The intelligence with which the choices are made makes all the difference between a good and a bad adaptation.

[awashsquid]

Next part in my AU, group post here, which I am enjoying writing more than I had anticipated. A little update on Rei, Minako, and Ami. And by “little,” I mean 2100 words, because I’m ridiculous.

Rei was still putting away stacks of manga, tossing out old wrappers, and generally tidying their study area when Minako showed up.  “It’s not like you to be on time,” she noted, then glanced at her watch.  “Or early.  Have you ever been early before?”

Minako shrugged noncommittally, tossing her backpack down onto the floor with a heavy thud.  “Not doing much else, I guess.”  Besides living in my head, cursing myself eternally for being a shit general, she thought.  “And besides, I live to show up at your house and torment you.”  She winked at Rei before taking her place on one of the cushions, pulling out her phone and tapping at its buttons, not scrolling through any one app in particular, but desperate for any distraction.

Rei knew that look, the little bit of wildness in the eyes hiding beneath the calm exterior, like a deer that had been spooked and expected to be scared again, ready to flee at a moment’s notice.  She recognized it so well because the same look haunted her mirror and stared back at her with flitting, dead eyes.  What more should you have done?  How did you fail her?  She shook her head, not wanting to entertain the thoughts any more than she already had been for the past—had it really been weeks?  Time moved differently somehow when the center of your universe went missing, and she found that she needed to wear a watch, lest she get caught for hours drifting off into what-ifs and should-have-beens, neglecting necessary duties and functions.  “Yeah, that does seem to be your specialty.”

The silence hung between them awkwardly for a few moments too long to be comfortable any more, Rei shifting her weight between her legs as Minako aimlessly tapped through her Instagram feed.  “Do you, um, want anything?  To drink, or to eat?”

Minako was tempted to retort back with what exactly she would be interested in eating, but shook her head a little, choosing to keep that one to herself.  “I had no idea you could be so gracious, Rei.  But I’m good.”  She pulled on her bright pink bubblegum, stretching it out so that Rei noticed it. “See?” she asked between teeth clenched around the strand, before popping it all back in her mouth.

“Gross,” Rei muttered. “You better not put that under my table, Minako, I swear, I will—” Rei cut herself off before she said, “burn your ass up,” because she couldn’t exactly do that anymore, now could she? Her threat hung unfinished, but Minako knew well enough what the implication was, even if it no longer held the same weight.

If she were being cruel, she would challenge it.  She could entice Rei so easily into a fight, the other woman caught up in the struggle before she even realized it had begun. She could picture the red of her cheeks, flushed with hot rage; she could see the flint ignite behind the dark eyes, ready to turn to ash anyone who dared question her; she could visualize with ease the heaving of her breasts between yells, each breath making them rise and fall rapidly—  Her bubble popped in her face, sticking uncomfortably to her cheeks.  “Not a problem,” she muttered out between picking the sticky remnants off her skin.  Rei, thankfully, had turned around to tidy a stack of DVD’s and hadn’t noticed. Small miracles still existed even when the most miraculous thing in the world was dead, it seemed.

“Ami should be here by now. She’s always five minutes early.” Rei frowned, beginning to pace as she tapped her index finger to her teeth, and Minako had to fight not to get distracted by her lips.  “I’m gonna call her, be right back.”  Rei left then, presumably to grab her phone, and Minako sighed, leaning back on the floor and covering her eyes with the palms of her hands.

“This is not the time,” she whispered to herself, palms pressing against her eyeballs, creating galaxies behind her eyelids.  And some part of her knew that it was too soon, that they would both just be looking for an excuse to take the pain away, a distraction from their overwhelming shame and grief, but how long did they have left?  If Usagi could die, leaving their future completely uncertain, how long did they have to live, really?  Would there be time to wait?  

“There has to be.” She took her hands off of her eyes and let them fall down at her sides, looking up at the white ceiling.  “There has to be.”

“You better not be sleeping,” Rei called as she reentered the room, and Minako grumbled back some assurance that she was, in fact, awake.  “Ami isn’t answering.  I called it off; Makoto said she was busy anyway.  I want to go check on Ami, you coming or what?”  

Minako frowned; it wasn’t like Ami to be unreliable.  She had been taking it hard, maybe harder than the rest of them, and Minako found that she couldn’t remember having talked to her in the past few days, too consumed in her own wallowing.  She sat up, rolling her shoulders in a futile attempt to relieve some tension.  “Yeah, let’s go.”  A pause as she stood, opting to just leave her backpack there and come back for it later.  “Should we text Mamoru?”  It seemed like a wasted effort, really.  He had been invited to their study sessions in some attempt to keep him from dealing with the loss alone, but he had sat in the corner, never saying a word, and Minako had noticed that he never turned the page of his textbook in the hour that he spent there.  He had left with a half-hearted, “thanks,” and after that, he had politely declined every offer to hang out that had been extended his way.  

(There hadn’t been an abundance of offers, per se, but they had each reached out to him once, purely out of obligation.  They all knew that Usagi would have wanted him to be welcomed into their group, but the connection didn’t really work without her there, and they all knew it.  So when he stopped coming, no one was surprised.)

“I got it,” Rei replied, shooting off a quick notification that the study session had been cancelled. “Let’s go.”

The trip to Ami’s apartment was quiet.  Rei kept trying to reach out psychically to connect with Ami, but it wasn’t doing much good. (She used to be able to sense each Senshi’s relative emotional state if she concentrated hard enough, but with Usagi gone, that bond had been severed, and now she couldn’t seem to reach out to them unless they were in the same room as her.  The visions hadn’t stopped, though—if anything, they had gotten worse, mingling with her nightmares and reliving their last battle, blending into landscapes of horror and destruction, tangling past truths and future maybes until it was difficult to pick apart where one ended and the other began.)

When they reached the apartment, Rei was the first to knock, short and sharp.  No reply came.  “Ami, it’s Rei and Minako, you home?”  She tried the handle.  “Locked,” she muttered, considering the pros and cons for breaking down the door.  Minako sighed and pulled a tiny case out of her pocket.

“Give me about a minute,” she muttered, kneeling down and inserting the tools into the apartment’s keyhole, carefully jiggling them.  “What?” she asked in response to Rei’s indignant face.  “Lock-picking kits are super cheap.”

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised you know how to do that.”  Minako wasn’t sure if that was meant as a compliment or an insult, so she concentrated on clicking the last tumbler instead of replying.

“Done!” she crowed triumphantly, turning the handle.  The door opened easily, revealing a darkened entryway.  The two tiptoed in, not wanting to break the silence of the apartment, both feeling a little out of place—they had never really spent time in Ami’s apartment before, and breaking in when she possibly wasn’t home seemed like an awkward way to start.  The kitchen was empty, as was the living room, so they together walked towards Ami’s bedroom.  The door was open just a crack, revealing some light coming from within, and Minako pushed it open.

The contrast between the clean and basic outer rooms of the apartment and Ami’s room was startling.  The floor was covered in books and papers, and some stacks of books teetered precariously, piled too high on top of one another.  Her bed, too, was covered in papers, the sheets pushed against the wall, presumably to make more room for the carefully laid out research, each page covered in Ami’s tiny handwriting.  The trash can was overflowing with nutrition bar wrappers, and what looked like every mug in the house sat next to it, some still with tea inside, one or two looking suspiciously like they had gone moldy.  

All of this was taken in rapidly, leading to the discovery of Ami.  She was slumped over onto her desk, large headphones over her ears, still holding a pen in her hand.  Her head rested on her laptop, which was quietly humming and added an eerie blue glow to the room.  For a moment, Minako was sure that she was dead.

But then Rei shook her, perhaps a little harder than was appropriate, and she stirred.  Her eyes opened blearily, but then shot open at once, and she jumped back into a sitting position.  The headphones were torn off as her eyes, bloodshot and wide, darted back and forth between her friends.  “What’s wrong?  Why are you here?” she asked, almost accusatorily.

“You missed our study session,” Rei replied, cautious, but with a little acid in her tone.  

Ami frowned.  “It’s Monday?”  She glanced at her laptop, which seemed to confirm the date.  “I’ve been so caught up…”  Her hand gestured feebly to the disaster scene currently serving as her room before covering her mouth, embarrassed.  “I’m sorry you had to see it like this.”

Minako waved her hand, batting the suggestion out of the air.  “Man, my room looks like this literally every day, it’s no big deal.” She was busy taking in the details of Ami’s appearance—her hair almost looked slick with greasiness; her face was pale and gaunt; her fingers and legs kept twitching; her red, watery eyes never stopped moving.  “Ami, when’s the last time you ate?”

Ami ran her hand through her hair.  “I’m sure it wasn’t that long ago…”  The sentence trailed off, and it was unspoken knowledge that she probably hadn’t eaten in days.  

“Let’s order pizza,” Rei suggested, “I know a new place that has a really good deal as part of their opening promotions!”  She pulled out her phone to dial, but Ami shook her head.

“Thank you, but I really need to get back to my work.”

Rei’s face fell, and she turned to Minako, who was staring at the complex diagram of papers scattered all over the bed.  “You can’t bring her back, Ami.”  Minako’s fist clenched, hard enough that the nails began to pierce her palm.  “We—we have to keep going.”

“I can’t bring her back, but Minako, we know the Goddess of Time—maybe we could make it so that this never happened in the first place, if there was a way to adjust the timeline back to its original state, because this is not what we were supposed to have happen, we very clearly got a glimpse into our future, and now it’s created a paradox—”

“We know that, Ami,” Rei retorted, trying and failing to keep her voice level, “but nothing can bring her back, nothing except that fucking Crystal, and I saw it shatter—”

“It shattered before, and she was always able to repair it—”

“Enough,” Minako whispered, and she felt her face grow wet.  “ENOUGH!”  The scream stopped both of them from their bickering, and she didn’t remove her eyes from the bed, the blue pen blurring behind her tears.  “This isn’t what she would have wanted.”  She looked directly at Ami then.  “You can’t bring her back, Ami.  She wouldn’t have wanted you to die trying.”

The blonde turned towards the door and squeezed past Rei to exit, muttering, “See you later,” under her breath as she did.  As she left, she didn’t look back.

Ami cleared her throat and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.  “You know, Rei,” she offered up timidly, “pizza actually does sound pretty good.”

[knoxvfyx073-blog]

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Hyperallergic: An Artist Invites Viewers to Become Like the Animals to Understand the Animals

From Deke Weaver, “The Unreliable Bestiary: Bear” (2016): Ranger Joe with mask of polar bear expert Malcolm Ramsay; polar bear (all photos by the author for Hyperallergic)

CHICAGO, Illinois — This fall we learned once again that “all politics is local,” as Tip O’Neill famously said. All the theories and polling and arguments for the greater good paled in influence on voters compared to the circumstances of their daily lives, their immediate relationships, and the “call of stories” that fuel “the moral imagination,” as psychiatrist Robert Coles wrote a quarter of a century ago. Artists have been telling us all of this for at least two decades, with a swell of local performance and art scenes burgeoning across the globe. No one can be everywhere or see everything, and the internet has made us all aware of how much is going on that we’re missing. Even among the viewers of a single work, “there’s not one vantage point that should be seen or a unique point of perception,” as Christo explained in a 1983 interview.

This abundance and diversity makes the conversation richer, with more outstanding artists in more places than ever. But there are more audiences too, and people in downstate Illinois need outstanding works of art just as much as anyone. They’re getting them with — among other works — an exciting series of multimedia performances by Deke Weaver in and around the University of Illinois. On December 22nd, Weaver released the first online video for Part Two of his current “Bear” project. Five more of these one-minute teasers are going up on the “BEAR” page of The Unreliable Bestiary each week in January. Weaver will use geocaching to draw viewers into area parks to find clues that will lead them to surprising discoveries. The videos anticipate a culmination in stories and videos at a nightly performance that will run February 16 to 25 at the Station Theatre in Urbana. Will the videos capture field sightings of local bears? Will they reveal steps on a path of discovery in the AMK Habitat Corridor? We don’t yet know. But we do know what has happened so far in Part One.

It was dark as we headed from the parking lot toward the gateway to the AMK wilderness corridor. Three uniformed “park rangers” met us. They arranged the small group of 12 and then, lit by a bright camp lantern on the ground, two of the rangers faced us, with a large painted cutout of a polar bear behind them. Off to the side, a wooden wall crudely portrayed the U.S. National Soccer Team with cutouts for us to put our faces in, like a carnival concession for our souvenir photo. After taking a group picture, we set off into the damp, dark woods. It reminded me of Boy Scout camp in the more innocent world of 50 years ago.

Deke Weaver’s immersive, magical performance “Bear” began in front of these rudimentary signboards, as we listened to prerecorded stories on an eco-friendly hand-cranked voice recorder that one of the rangers held up before us. Like Wes Anderson’s The Grand Budapest Hotel, the artificiality of the sets stood out deliberately. Over the tinny speaker, Weaver told us about different species of bears and the impending decline of our global eco-structure. The rangers held up signs on stakes; one of the extended texts read:

Greenland slides into the Atlantic. The power grid collapses on August 4th, 2017. The Totten Glacier and West Antarctica break off into the sea. Sea levels rise 12 feet, and now, 2020, we’ve got 40 percent of the world’s human population leaving the coasts and headed inland.

Like stories told around a campfire, Weaver described an Eskimo approached by a polar bear, who sniffed him up and down, breathing into his face as he lay motionless on the ground, and about the Eskimo’s companion who didn’t play dead and was eaten. We heard about polar bears breaching, like whales, rising eight feet out of the water, about polar bears running at 40 miles an hour, about a polar bear that swam 200 miles without stopping. The 12 of us together, we learned, weighed less than one large polar bear. Along our journey into the woods, at six stations (one for each of the six months of hibernation), we heard recordings about other species of bears. After learning about the black bears of the southeastern United States, who make their dens 60 to 90 feet above the ground in the trunks of hollow trees, we looked up to see one sleeping, gently breathing (by a remote-controlled motor) among the branches by a clearing.

Weaver’s “Bear” belongs to The Unreliable Bestiary, an ongoing series, with each installment about a different endangered species, corresponding to a different letter of the alphabet. The imagined AMK (Allerton-Meadowbrook-Kickapoo) habitat alludes to the Yellowstone to Yukon Conservation Initiative (Y2Y), a real corridor created to bring grizzly bears back to the Rockies. Weaver began his series with “Monkey” (2009), then moved on to “Elephant” (2010), “Wolf” (2013), and now the first of the three parts of “Bear.” As the artist describes the project, “Inspired by the literary concept of the unreliable narrator and the medieval bestiary, which gave every living thing a spiritual purpose, The Unreliable Bestiary is an ark of stories about animals, our relationships with them, and the worlds they inhabit.”

From Deke Weaver, “The Unreliable Bestiary: Elephant” (September 2010): Narrator with four baby elephants learning to play with soccer balls

Weaver has created a video for each of the projects, rich with stories and clips of the performances. Yet the experience of being there is unforgettable — and being there is the point. The feeling of trudging through the park in the dark of night, with the tall grasses brushing your face, the sounds of rustling in the woods, and the sensation of stepping along uneven, muddy, invisible paths all made the fantasy world of “Bear” palpably real. We were in it.

Half a mile into the woods, we came upon three dancers costumed as bears who came right up to our faces, sniffing and breathing like the polar bear with that hapless Eskimo. We huffed and puffed in rhythm with them, held hands as we encircled them, and then walked off, single-file, into the darkness. Touching each other was important. At the end we all took off our shoes and crawled into the confined space of a bear den, where we huddled together, wearing bear masks and listening to Weaver — looking “grizzly” with a six-month growth of beard — tell the story of a man slogging through his quotidian existence until one day he slowly began a metamorphosis into a bear.

From Deke Weaver, “The Unreliable Bestiary: Elephant” (2010): Elephant Weaver being interviewed as Jojo the elephant, Stock Pavilion, UofI, Urbana IL

The Unreliable Bestiary evolved around these interwoven stories, illustrated with beautiful videos of animals and habitats, maps, researched data, and costumed dancers in barn-like interior spaces and out “in the wild.” Weaver, his choreographer wife Jennifer Allen, and their troupe of collaborators performed “Monkey” in an experimental theater space. They staged “Elephant” in a stock pavilion with bundles of hay and bleachers around a large dirt-floored livestock arena, and during the show, a life-size, impressive but intentionally unrealistic elephant puppet walked into the space. We heard about the trip that Weaver and Allen had taken to a school for mahouts (elephant handlers) in Thailand, and this adventure wove in and out of the tale of Hero, a circus elephant the townsfolk of Elkton, South Dakota, shot to death during a snowstorm on May 15, 1916. The sounds of clinking leg chains, elephant cries and trumpets, and music composed and blended by Chris Peck haunted “Elephant” and transported the audience into the stories. The choreography of “baby elephants” learning to play with soccer balls heightened our empathy. Weaver told us about the real adventure of learning to ride an elephant from a mahout and of Anastasia, an old lady in Elkton who remembered the death of Hero. Costumed as Jojo, another circus elephant whose attempted escape likewise ended in disaster, Weaver took an interview on a TV talk show.

For “Wolf,” visitors boarded a tour bus in the city and watched “informational” videos while uniformed “rangers” prepared us for our hike into a woodland park where we encountered “wolves.” A wolf (costumed by Susan Becker) ran past the group on the path, wolves were spotted chasing Little Red Riding Hood in the distance, and later we came upon the remains of her basket and cape. The trek ended in a dimly lit barn with eerie sounds and “wolves” wandering among the audience as Weaver gave a nature talk with real data, and, as the artist described it, “unsettling, decidedly non-scientific details, shifting from the every-day towards a waking-spirit-world.”

Deke Weaver, “The Unreliable Bestiary: Wolf” (2013): Ranger Dave examines a foul-smelling wolf on a log, Allerton Park, Piatt County, IL

Deke Weaver, “The Unreliable Bestiary: Wolf” (2013): wolves in the field, Allerton Park, Piatt County, IL

The performances in The Unreliable Bestiary rely in part on the physical involvement of the small groups of viewers. You squeeze into cramped dens, sit on hard bleachers, and walk through puddles and shrubbery, swatting mosquitoes in the dark. The environment is literally in your face, and that opens you up to the experience on a physical level, to a reimagining of the world and your place within it in a fresh way. In the micro-urban setting around the University of Illinois, these events have taken on legendary status, like the performances of Calder’s Circus in 1920s Paris. Urbana isn’t Paris — although, of course, that Paris doesn’t exist anymore either. The “center” moved to New York around 1940, but after 1970, that New York disappeared too. Now the center is wherever you happen to be. That’s part of what’s new about the art world of the 21st century and about this body of work. The internet, travel, and the diffusion of information and images has made it possible to engage with the art world from anywhere, while also making the world seem oddly disembodied, even if you’re in Brooklyn. In The Philosophy of Andy Warhol, Warhol observed that “people sometimes say that the way things happen in the movies is unreal, but actually, it’s the way things happen to you in life that’s unreal.” The brilliance of Weaver’s performances is that they assert a palpable awareness of being in the world just when “the world” most feels like something on TV.

The post An Artist Invites Viewers to Become Like the Animals to Understand the Animals appeared first on Hyperallergic.

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