#i want a capras now

[lescarnetsdehaku]

Advertising in Verone, circa 1940.

[vivalasthedas]

i hated the manus fight so much holy shit

[thebarroomortheboy]

"Please don't give up. We'll start all over again. Just you and I. It isn't too late. The John Doe movement isn't dead yet. You see, John, it isn't dead or they wouldn't be here. It's alive in them. They kept it alive by being afraid. That's why they came up here. Oh, darling!... We can start clean now. Just you and I. It'll grow John, and it'll grow big because it'll be honest this time. Oh, John, if it's worth dying for, it's worth living for. Oh please, John... You wanna be honest, don't ya? Well, you don't have to die to keep the John Doe ideal alive. Someone already died for that once. The first John Doe. And he's kept that ideal alive for nearly 2,000 years. It was He who kept it alive in them. And He'll go on keeping it alive for ever and always - for every John Doe movement these men kill, a new one will be born. That's why those bells are ringing, John. They're calling to us, not to give up but to keep on fighting, to keep on pitching. Oh, don't you see darling? This is no time to give up. You and I, John, we... Oh, no, no, John. If you die, I want to die too. Oh, oh, I love you."

MEET JOHN DOE (1941) | dir. Frank Capra

[centeris2]

what I don't get is why SSO didn't come up with a different name?

like the caprans were originally called leprechauns, but SSO wanted to move away from IRL cultures and folk creatures. And Capran is just capra + n. Capra the goat genus, and latin for goat. A few random other artists and magic settings have Caprans but it's all the same thing: goat people, so not hard to get how they went "ah yes, Capra....n. Goat folk. Done."

Anyway now SSO is back to using real life cultures/mythical creatures? Why even bother, caprans are established to be mischievous anyway. The first Winter Village we had a capran (then leprechaun) who didn't like Christmas who was sabotaging things (they're the one you can find hanging out in Galloper's Keep, turns out Halloween was more their vibe!). Like if you're going to use the same model, just have it be some caprans who want it to be The Season of Getting rather than The Season of Giving, or something. Or call them Narpacs, idk. Although I feel like the opposite of a capran (established to be sneaky, mischievous, occasional thieves) would be creatures that are like always Lawful Good types (to the point of being jerks about it, probably).

[bracketsoffear]

Director Lee Harvey Oswald (The Department of Truth) "In The Department of Truth, the protagonist’s boss (and the director of the titular department) is a much older Lee Harvey Oswald, though it’s not explicitly known which version of him he is. As in, what story of the assassination is true? Is he the CIA stooge? The innocent patsy? The lone gunman? Our protagonist muses this question in the second issue and can only conclude: “He’s probably not the one killed by Jack Ruby.” And looking at the picture the comic paints of who he is now, he seems much more the type to spend his time in Howard Hunt’s circles than Kerry Thornley’s, if you know what I mean. He has become the image of the perfect Cold War-era fed with his browline glasses, dark suit, quips about a new generation gone soft, and an ever-present cigarette. And that’s because he always has been that. He joined the Department as an agent when he was 19, working to counter the Soviets and gain information on their country’s equivalent of the D.o.T. And we, the reader, do not know what happened on November day in Dallas, but neither does he, it seems. Kennedy stood against the Department and it was his job to take him out, but in that book depository, he saw the Scarlet Woman (see the Extinction poll) holding a sniper rifle, ready to tear apart the country’s sense of truth with a bullet. (Well, three.) But as the story of the assassination spread, so did the idea of Lee Harvey Oswald, the concept of the shadowy assassin that was seen on the front pages, the conflicting theories and paranoias made manifest. To quote Hawk Harrison (another character), “the living embodiment of every horrible thing people think the government is capable of, filled up into a man-shaped thing.” No matter how human he may or may not be, he might as well be American paranoia personified in function. He’s a man desperate to do whatever it takes to uphold the ideal of what America is supposed to be, that Shining City on a Hill; a man fighting in a war of propaganda and information and disinformation, a war of stories and ideas. To quote Indrid Cold, he’s simply a “dream this country is having.” 

History is, of course, written by the victors, and facts can be rewritten by them as well. After Lee’s “death”, the previous Director (Frank Capra) put him in the Department’s archives to try and figure out who the Scarlet Woman was, only for him to use the research to find a new way of doing things, a way to shift reality through manipulating what people believe to be true on a large scale through media, and symbolic imagery, and simple lies that serve to reinforce what the public wants to believe about this country, and for that, Richard Nixon appointed him to the job we know him in, Director of the D.o.T. Director Capra was a naïve idealist who truly believed that the American Dream was not only real but could be achieved through hard work. Lee knows that the American Dream is a lie, but my god, he will do what it takes to make it real, no matter how underhanded the tactics. If you can control the narrative, you can control the Truth. 

For most of his tenure, it was the height of the Cold War, there was a distinct enemy to push against. It was a conflict of countries, of ideologies, of two superpowers trying to keep their way of life at the expense of the other, and it was the U.S. that won out. There is another version of the 20th century, the one that was once real, where the founding ideals of the USSR were much closer to being realized within its border, it was something better than what it became, but the U.S. won the propaganda war and what was once simply a fact had become a hazy fiction that never happened. And so the victor rewrites history. 

And how does one become the victor? Through whatever means necessary, from fabricating events that later became real, to assassinations, to media manipulation, to the creation of the Satanic Panic itself, playing off paranoia and Christian nationalism to strengthen the idea that America is something that exists, that the American Dream is worth fighting for. (And of course, in the case of the latter, to deflect media attention from the whole Iran-Contra Deal.)

Finally, I leave you with this monologue: “I know you don’t trust me. I don’t care. I’ve done enough bad shit, and spent the last sixty years of my life lying through my teeth every goddamn day. I don’t need you to trust me. But I need to trust you to know that the ends justify the means. You’re sour over your star-faced man. Hawk told you that he stoked the fire there, tried to make it seem realer than it was. That we had a vested interest in people believing that Satan was lurking behind every corner. I was younger then. I was stepping boldly. I was trying to defend the dream of what America was supposed to be. Not let those Russian fucks dictate our future. I’ve done many things that haunt me, more than you can imagine.”

This description has been abridged. Click link for Director Oswald's full description.

Vriska Serket (Homestuck) "First of all, she has the spider theme, like she has vision eightfold, her trolltag is ArachnidsGrip, her guardian was a gigantic spider and her typing quirk is spider themed (types her emojis with eight eyes, uses 8 to replace b and the sound "eight") She can also manipulate people with her mind, taking away their free will, which is a big Web thing. She’s also just overall a manipulative person."

[spookykestrel]

Lets Talk Farm Terminology!

Yay! I'm here to answer all the simple farm animal questions and misconceptions you've been too afraid to ask! Why? Because im bored and have thoughts and am reading Watership Down and want people to know the difference between "bunny," "rabbit," and "hare."

Leporidae

You're probably thinking wow kes how bold of you to start out not only with an animal uncommonly kept by farmers but also starting with a scientific name few will know! And you're right, but I don't care! The Leporidae family includes rabbits and hares, and yes! they are different. Very closely related as they belong to the same family, but rabbits and hares are not the same thing. Simply: hares are bigger and wilder than rabbits. There are no domestic species of hare and they are more adapted to solitary life than living in groups/colonies. Looking at the image above you can note slight differences in facial structure and build, as well as most notably the ear length, with the smaller rabbit on the left and the larger hare on the right. Most Watership Down art features hares but I don't mind it all that much as the hare anatomy is more fun lol.

Now, what's a bunny? Bunny is an informal term used to refer to rabbits, especially young ones. It wouldn't be incorrect to refer to the long eared friend in your yard as a bunny but if you were writing a paper or just want to sound more serious, it would be better to say rabbit (as you notice, I am refraining from calling them bunnies in this post).

When referring to rabbits, their terminology is similar to other familiar animals. A male rabbit is called a buck and a female rabbit is called a doe, like deer or goats. However, a baby rabbit is called a kit or kitten and a group of siblings is called a litter, just like cats.

Goats

Aw no more latin? As the domestic breeds of goat all come from the same species, there's no need for a broad scientific name as we all have an idea of what to picture, unless you're thinking of a mountain goat which are not considered true goats and are considered a goat-antelopes, making them closer in relation to muskoxen! Which is a whole different topic! Regardless, there's lots of different breeds of domestic goats (Capra hircus), like dogs and cats. Some are better suited for dairy production, some for meat, others are bred for their cashmere! Pictured above is a Saanen goat, one of, if not the most popular dairy goat breeds (in the US at least), known for their high milk production.

Many goat breeds have horns, which vary from antlers bc of how they grow and their composition. Horns can be removed when the goats are young, in a process called dehorning or disbudding. When horns are removed, their growth is stunted and they will not grow back once the animal is older. However, disbudding is a controversial topic as it is not painless and often unnecessary (really the only reason to dehorn would be safety towards others). Both male and female goats can have horns, although their appearance may differ.

I mentioned above that (mature, uncastrated) male goats are called bucks and females are called does. Many, many people use the terms billy and nanny to refer to goats. However, the better term would be buck/doe, and when people use billy/nanny it does peeve me. You may also hear the word wether to refer to castrated goats. Baby goats are called kids.

Cattle

My favorites of the post, let's finish with cattle (Bos taurus)! Same as goats, cattle can be bred and used for many purposes like the lovely Brahman I've included above, a very recognizable meat breed. Cattle terminology can get a little tricky as its not as straightforward as some other animals.

Cattle is the correct term for these animals, as cow technically refers to a mature female (has been bred). No one's going to freak out if you say cows instead of cattle, myself included, especially because if you dont know the specific details of the animal its hard to know whether to say cow or heifer or bull or steer.

So, a cow is a mature female, and a mature male is called a bull. An immature, young female is called a heifer. A castrated male is called a steer. When referring to an immature male you can use bull or bull calf.

Many places you will see the term "ox" thrown around (not to be confused with a MUSKox mentioned previously) and there's a lot of misconceptions surrounding the name. An ox is a specially trained bovine. That's all it is. There's lots of regulations on how they are trained and all that, but that's the basics of it. It is most common and recommended to use castrated males (steers) because castration should temper their aggression and testosterone production; additionally, males are typically larger than the females. However! Female cows can be trained as oxen, as can bulls.

Technically an ox should not be referred to as such until they have completed their training, which can take years. Typically oxen are selected at a young age and routinely worked to develop good skills. They are used for tasks plowing or pulling carts, and as modern technology has improved, use of oxen has declined.

Thaaaat's all I have to say about that today, I sort of led into each topic in little ways and I've nothing more to mention. Hopefully you learned a little, I think livestock are cool 👍

[betterbooktitles]

My college girlfriend walked out of Chautauqua’s little church-shaped movie theater with tears in her eyes. We’d seen Frank Capra’s It Happened One Night (1934). I had enjoyed the movie but wasn’t necessarily as moved as she was. She suddenly needed to tell me something. She came to visit me in Chautauqua on a Saturday. It was now Wednesday night. Wednesday was the Classic Cinema Night at the theater when they screened an old movie at 5 PM for people who couldn’t watch a movie after 7 PM without falling asleep. I was one of those people.

The sun was still bright when we walked out of the theater. We headed down a grass hill and stood on the brick walk in front of the arches of the opera house.

“Did the movie bother you?” I asked.

She was pinching her flushed face, tears rolling down her cheeks while she squeezed my hand. She would not look at me. 

“I did something.” she said.

I knew. I even knew who it was with. Not hard to guess. In a way, I was glad it was her ex-boyfriend and not some random guy she’d gotten drunk with. That I would have taken personally. This instance was mostly about them and not me. Except we’d been together for at least a year, so I felt somewhat involved.

She fucked her ex and told me about it. She wanted me to know she wasn’t rekindling anything and saw the act more as the death knell of their love for each other. She hated that it happened, though I didn’t feel like she hated herself enough for doing it. He hated that she didn’t want him back, I know that much. I know a lot I wish I didn’t. More details than I needed. He was outdoorsy and she had loved him half her life and he could do a one-handed push-up. I was some nerd she’d met at school who liked reading Updike novels, most of which were ironically about this very subject.

After our conversation, I walked the 3-mile loop of the Chautauqua Institution in the dark. I wasn’t ready to cry yet, and instead entered the manic phase of a young man in pain, making small talk with strangers in a voice I now know must have sounded too fast and high-pitched. Many of these people took the opportunity to turn down the first available side street and wave me off.

For better or worse, this was not the straw that broke the camel’s back for me and my girlfriend. That would come much later. Chautauqua, however, was ruined for an evening, perhaps a year. Why wasn’t I in New York City getting a leg up on my comedy career? Why was I wasting a summer in this pretty place made for young families and the nearly deceased? I should be using this current heartbreak to fuel my rampage of the city’s eligible dating pool. I made a plan to not come back the next year as I walked.

The flowers looked black against the moonlit surface of the lake. The cackling silhouettes of carefree teens getting drunk by the bell tower seemed like wraiths. I went home where she was waiting for me on the porch. I got some more details I didn’t want, and then we made up and dated for two more years.

Read the rest here.

[aylaaescar]

I hope it's not to late to ask some of the Romance Asks! I'd love to know 2, 12, 15, and 31 for Tysinno, please! Feel free to only do some if four it too much <3

absolutely not too late to ask, and thank you very much! I'm always happy to have an excuse to talk about Tysinno, and Tysinno/Ayla 🥰🖤

2. What was the first moment that they knew they were in love with their LI? 

the first minute he saw Ayla Aescar. love at first sight, y'all

jk nah. Tysinno knew he had feelings for her for a while, and was interested pretty early on (as early as Capra, after fighting Quiial.) but as of my typing this right now, I'm thinking he doesn't realize "oh, I'm in love with her" until a more mundane moment at the compound when they're spending time together. I have this headcanon that Ayla occasionally uses wind magic to mess with Tysinno when he's sparring or practicing something, like... using the wind to send a practice bullet straight into the ground instead of a target, lol, or pushing a dummy back when he's trying melee stuff. one such occasion, he rolls his eyes and jokingly glares as usual while she's snickering at him, and that's when he knows that he loves her.

(that said, I reserve the right to change my mind on The Moment (tm) as more of Ayla's days off come out! my answer might be different next year :D)

12. Do they have similar goals? If they clash, how do they deal?

I don't think they clash all that often, in terms of goals? they're both very similar people: they both want a community and a family, they're both wanderers who want to see more of the world, they both just generally want this feeling of peace, security, and understanding. they just get each other, so I feel like they're going to want the same things as a couple. stay with the Shepherds, travel the world, start a family at some point. I'm sure that they will clash on something there at some point, but I'm not entirely sure what?

maaaaybe on how many cats Tysinno can have, lol. I think he'd gladly take in every single cat he could if Ayla didn't put her foot down or set a limit or something.

15. Does their view of themselves differ from their partner’s view?

oh, absolutely. :') Tysinno doesn't have the best view of himself; he's struggled with self-loathing over what happened to Maj for the longest time, and he's really only just starting to cope with it as of chapter eight. he sees himself as a bad luck charm, and believes deep down that people are better off without him around. it's why he wandered for so long, and also why he left the Circle without giving his best friend Red a goodbye.

Ayla sees him differently, of course, as do I! Tysinno is aloof at first, but he's incredibly warm and sweet once you become friends, and will yell at gargoyles for you. he's got a dry wit that isn't nearly as overt as Chase's jokes, but still makes you laugh (especially if you have a morbid sense of humor.) he's a gifted artist and writer, he's compassionate and caring, he's just a lot better than he initially gives himself credit for at the start of SHOH. Ayla sees all of that in him, and I imagine that while she does understand why he feels the way he does about himself, she still challenges it and dares him to see the good in himself. which he does to her as well. :)

31. Share anything you would like about the couple!

Tysinno's working on learning Gangara in his spare time! he wants to be able to surprise Ayla by being able to speak to her in her first language.

in RPG terms, I like to think of them as a healer/tank couple.

this scene always makes me laugh, and was just one of many 😳😏 moments from Tysinno lol

[shepherds-of-haven]

How exactly did Red end up as the archmage of the Circle? Were there no other staff who were older/more experienced than him?

Good question! I can't remember in how much detail this was expounded upon in the game, but essentially, all Circles have always had trouble finding and retaining long-term faculty, instructors, and staff. In the old days before the Castigation, teaching positions at places like Solhadur were essentially like collegiate professorships at universities: you'd teach your classes, conduct office hours and head up research and projects, but you still had a home, life, and typically family outside of the school that you would return to once your day or week was over.

After the Castigation, of course, instructors don't really have this luxury: it's not as if you can risk being regularly seen making trips up to "the old abandoned castle" on the outskirts of town and then coming home to your house and family in Capra every night, exactly as if you... worked at the old abandoned castle that used to be a Mage academy, so instructors have to teach and live on the grounds under the same restrictions that the students have. Your whole life has to be about the Circle, by necessity, for everyone's safety. Except that students will eventually graduate after a few years and have the opportunity to leave and go their own ways in the world (if they want to); and teachers don't really get that luxury.

So if you try to source teachers from the outside, you already face a great deal of obstacles: you have to 1) find teachers who are experienced, advanced, and skilled enough at magic to teach it (hard enough when learning magic is outlawed by the Autarchy, so you're already dealing with a drastically-reduced pool of candidates), 2) someone who has the aptitude and demeanor suitable for teacher (further reducing the pool), 3) someone who has the willingness and capacity to devote their lives to the Circle and forego having a family, life, residence, or pursuits outside of it* (reducing the pool even further), and 4) to do all of this scouting, vetting, and recruiting in a way that doesn't result you both in getting caught by the Inquisitors or other authorities.

*There are exceptions to this, of course: nothing precludes the instructor from bringing their family to live with them at the Circle, but this also introduces new complications: what will your partner do for a living? What if your kids grow older and don't want that kind of life, or long to have friends outside of the Circle? Etc.

And then even if you manage to do all of this and hire an instructor, nothing guarantees that they'll want to teach forever. So your retention rate is pretty regular, with some teachers exiting after 5-10 years (and some even less), whether due to retirement or illness or seeking a new career or settling down and starting a family/lifestyle that isn't compatible with the Circle or having to go back home to take care of someone, or any number of reasons; but your hiring rate is drastically reduced.

(What about hiring internally, you ask, rather than finding instructors from outside the Circle? Well, consider your average high school or small college population. Of all the students you graduated with, how many of them would want to stick around after graduation to continue teaching? Let's say that number is higher than average because of the altered circumstances of the Autarchy: there aren't a lot of professions that allow young Mages to keep using their powers in a way they've now become accustomed to, so let's say interest in staying on as a staff member is far higher than the average student population. But of that number, who are also actually suited to be good teachers?)

Anyway, in the early days of Archmage Tevanti's tenure, he was actually pretty successful at scooping up a great number of faculty members who were interested in helping maintain the Circle: he was the son of the last Archmage of Solhadur and had that clout going for him, and he was very old when he died (around 200), so when he started his recruiting, it was actually in the early years directly after the Castigation. So there were still a number of pre-Castigation educated Mages willing and able to teach, and under his leadership, he garnered more over the years. But once he got older, active recruitment stagnated, partially because he already had his set faculty members and wasn't actively seeking new, fresh, younger blood; and also because the difficulty and danger of traveling on the roads seeking Mage instructors increased with the return of the Endarkened as well as heightened activity and zealotry from the Inquisitors, especially once Enik took charge. By the time Archmage Tevanti died, recruitment efforts had basically halted entirely, and it was left to "his" generation of teachers to keep things going. But over the years, many had already retired or died at the normal rate of decay, so where he may have started with, say, 40, in his twilight years there were 10. It was just bad luck that, because they were all of similar age to him, many of them also became ill, retired, or passed away around the same time as him, just before, or just after; so by the time it came to choosing a successor, the "senior" generation of faculty members were pretty much all gone or on the way out, and the middle generation were exiting for their own reasons (too dangerous, tired of teaching and quitting after a normal rate (say five years), wanting a career change or new pursuits, settling down and starting families, disheartened by his loss, etc.). So, to his thinking, you'd want someone younger, stronger, and sharper, someone who has a lot of years to give and isn't prone to noping out because of the demands of middle age or looming retirement, someone who could tackle this enormous task of being Archmage with the necessary fresh perspective and vigor of youth... which is why he chose someone like Red, and not the fifty-year-old Charms instructor who had indicated he would be retiring soon to spend more time with his granddaughter within a few years. It was just really, really bad luck that Red's stepping into the role coincided with anyone more senior than him (who could at least serve as an advisor or consultant or mentor) being eliminated/whittled down due to unfortunate circumstances and extremely bad timing: I think he mentions some professors were there to help him in the first years, but one was hit by a curse, one fell ill, and etc. It was probably on Archmage Tevanti to have recruited younger, fresher teachers sooner so Red would have a pre-established faculty before he took over, but again, a lot of circumstances prevented him from being as active in his recruitment as he should have (not even mentioning his long illness), and he really couldn't have predicted how things would go.

This is a long explanation, but hopefully that paints a better picture of how Red was essentially launched into a very stressful position without the guidance and direction Archmage Tevanti was expecting he would have, and why many of the teachers currently at the Circle are around the same age as him! However, after joining the Shepherds, there's obviously a lot more contact with Mages, so the faculty is more diverse in age and experience again and he can take a step back from his Archmage duties without feeling like it's all on him, as there's an actual support system for it all now! Hope that all makes sense!

[thepiguy1]

-- Feel free to add me on Discord: "thepiguy1" ! I really struggle to start conversations though, so don't expect too much from me teehee --

List of Things That are PiGuy Approved:

My darling mutuals

Especially @/otomeroids, @/felignis, @/bumblingbee1, @/ariothesnekdragon, @/sw4mp-c0rp3s, @/scalproie

Tekken

Real Bout Fatal Fury Special

Capra demon from Dark Souls (i think i hauve covid)

Fighting games

Crabs and other crustaceans

Risk of Rain 2/Returns

@/metalgearsolidyaoi (not just because of the url)

@/nyattosfw's nyamazaki art

@/plutobody's risk of rain art

@/shiroboom's tekken art

Devil jin from tekken 8 (i want him to kill me /romantic)

The faggots and the dykes and the trannies and so forth

Transmasc people also get a special mention because every trans guy I have ever met has been extremely cool

Silly cats

Noita

The Tumblr Kazuya Stans (you know who you are)

Billy Kane from king of fighters (i think hes cool)

Billy Kane EX from RBFFS (he resonates with me on a spiritual level)

Tarot cards (don't believe in them very much but i like the aesthetic)

lawyer yaoi

Elden Ring

Claudio Serafino from tekken (hes pretty)

Monster Hunter

Dire straits (the band)

Midnight oil (the band)

Guity Gear (the game)

Van halen (the band)

Skyhooks (the band)

The clash (the band)

@/kpopisntreal and @/cth297 for being the two people i helped by making a reference sheet for a Risk of Rain character (yadda yadda two nickels you get the idea)

Ultrakill

Treasure of the Rudras

People with any sense of self-awareness

Freestyle Gunz: Infinity

Boys who whimper

The Rain Formerly Known as Purple by Chris Christodoulou

Purple Haze by Jimi Hendrix

Highway Star by Deep Purple

Boys who meow

Spiders (when they are bugs on my screen and not creatures approaching me)

Jerma Nine-Hundred and Eighty-Five

Pronouncing hard g's as soft and vice versa

Team Fortress 2

Clearing the cache

Magpies and crows

Fluidics

DNI IF:

telling terfs and phobes and such to DNI isnt gonna do anything but the sentiment remains

^^ this is my only serious DNI

you main akuma in tekken 7

you still refer to bridget with he/him

you aren't fucking with awesome sauce

you aren't a teeheemaxing yaypilled ^_^cel

you think Real Bout Fatal Fury Special is a bad game

you only rb pictures of like. celebrities and sports players

@ that one fucker who keeps blazing those hockey player posts. saficz or whatever your name is. come over here and fight me bitch

you don't kill people with your teeth every now and then

[mygreatadventurehasbegun]

My Personal Ranking of James Stewart’s movies.

A while ago, I did three separate posts ranking Cary Grant’s, Audrey Hepburn’s and Claude Rains’ films (at least of the ones I’ve seen), and I realized that there are a couple more actors that I wanted to do this for...actors whose filmography I’ve tried to work through, and to see as much of their work as I can.  With 102 credits, it will be a long time before I see all of James Stewart’s work, but here’s my personal ranking of the films I have seen.

And this is based mostly on my enjoyment of the movie, not just his performance...though his performance may have been the deciding factor if I needed a “tie breaker”.

14. Ziegfeld Girl

Now, I actually saw this movie for the first time last night and I was pretty excited to see it.  A young James Stewart in a movie with Judy Garland and there are Busby Berkley musical numbers?  This is going to be great!  Ummm...I have to admit that sadly, I was pretty bored.  This movie is 2 hours and 12 minutes, and they could have easily cut 10 minutes and not lose anything.  And Stewart is only in 25 minutes of the movie.  His scenes are great, and it’s always nice to see Judy Garland in any movie, but the three separate storylines just didn’t flow well together and I found myself checking the time a lot.  The most interesting thing about it for me was that it was Stewart’s last film before WWII, and that some people think you can see Gene Kelly in the background of one of the numbers.

13.  The Greatest Show on Earth

Speaking of overly long movies...this one is a two hour movie stretched out to three...but it’s Cecil B. DeMille, and I don’t think he ever made a movie that wasn’t a long epic with a cast of thousands.  And while a lot of the circus stuff did not age well, a lot of it is still very impressive to watch.  Gloria Grahame learned how to work with elephants, Cornel Wilde and Betty Hutton did their own trapeze work, and the train crash sequence still holds up.  And James Stewart plays a clown!  You never see him out of his clown makeup, as his character is hiding from the law...and it’s kinda fun to see him act silly and do some more gag-type humor.  But this is another case where his scenes are some of the more interesting ones, but he’s just not in the movie all that much.

12.  You Can’t Take It With You

This one is ranked a bit lower because I’ve only seen it once!  So, if I ever get around to watching it again, it may move up the ranks.  But it’s a fun, light comedy that is perfect for someone like Frank Capra.  And he’s really adorable in this movie.

11.  Harvey

Another case of me only seeing this movie once years ago...but this is also a really sweet movie, and Stewart is great as the “pleasant” Elwood P. Dowd, who is best friends with a giant rabbit.

10.  Rope

This is a very interesting movie.  The first time I saw it, I didn’t really like it...but after a few more viewings, I’ve grown to appreciate it more.  It’s not my favorite Hitchcock movie, and not his best collab with Hitchcock, but it is technically impressive with some decent tension.  

9.  Anatomy of a Murder

Now, I’ve only seen this movie once...even though I do own the Criterion Blu-Ray...it’s just a very long movie and it’s tough to find the time.  But it’s a very engaging legal drama and Stewart is excellent as the defense lawyer of a man on trial for murdering his wife’s rapist.

8.  The Man Who Knew Too Much

So, this is a remake that Hitchcock made of one of his mown movies...and Hitchcock preferred this one, saying that “the first was made by an amateur, and the remake by a professional.”  I personally like them both about the same, liking some things more in the original, some in the remake...but James Stewart was the perfect choice to play the father of a kidnapped child.  He and Doris Day have very nice, easy chemistry...they do feel like a married couple who are just so comfortable together.  

7.  Rose Marie

So, this isn’t really a James Stewart movie...not in the way you would think.  This is a Nelson Eddy/Jeanette MacDonald movie, where James Stewart appears in one scene.  This was his second movie, and he is about 21 years old and just so cute...He plays Jeanette Macdonald’s younger brother who is on the run after murdering a Mountie.  I remember watching this movie when I was like, eight...so this was probably my introduction to James Stewart, before I even knew who he was.

6.  Shenendoah

I just re-watched this movie about a week ago and James Stewart is so fucking good in it...if you want to see his definitive curmudgeon performance while he also makes you cry, you don’t need to look any farther than Shenandoah.  Stewart plays a Virginian farmer during the Civil War who has basically not chosen a side.  He doesn’t support the Confederates because he’s opposed to slavery, but he also doesn’t support the North because he’s opposed to war.  He just wants to sit out the war and tend his farm with his seven children...but then his youngest son gets taken prisoner by the Yankees, and he goes off to try and find him.  It’s a deeply layered performance and I’m honestly surprised that he wasn’t nominated for it...it’s also the movie where you get to hear him say the phrase: “a spare tit”, which is weirdly hilarious to me.

5.  It’s a Wonderful Life

Now we’ve made it to his most well-known movie...what can I saw about It’s a Wonderful Life that hasn’t already been said?  It’s so iconic and such a huge part of so many people’s Christmas traditions...and his performance is so incredible... George Bailey goes on such a massive emotional journey, and he is captivating to watch.

4.  Vertigo

This movie is so mesmerizing...it’s definitely one of Hitchcock’s masterpieces.  Stewart’s character Scotty is actually fairly unlikable for the majority of the movie (there are so many moments that just make me go “ick”), but his performance is so layered, you can’t keep your eyes off of him.  And that scene between him and Kim Novak in the tower is one of my favorite scenes in any Hitchcock movie.  It is so intense, and there have been plenty of times that I haven’t rewound the movie to re-watch the scene.

3.  Mr. Smith Goes to Washington

If I had to pick James Stewart’s best performance, I would have to pick this movie.  It is an absolutely incredible, and it is too bad that he didn’t win his Oscar for this movie (though many people think that his win the next year was a consolation prize).  Jefferson Smith is a patriot...wide-eyed, innocent and always believes the best in people...but he slowly gets ground down as he learns that Washington DC is not a great as he thought.  People are dishonest and untrustworthy...he learns it the hard way, but he still has some fight left in him, and he’s the kind of person that just has to try.  And his scenes in the Senate between him and Claude Rains are outstanding.

2.  Rear Window

This was the first Hitchcock movie I ever saw, and what a great way to start!  It is such an interesting murder mystery, and for so long, you’re not even 100% sure that it is a murder mystery...but Jeff is so invested in finding out the truth that you have to stick with him until we know for sure.  And the fact that it takes place all in one room and you never get bored is a testament to how engaging the story and James Stewart as Jeff are.

1.  The Philadelphia Story

I love this movie so much.  It interesting, when I made my Cary Grant countdown, this movie ended up at number one there, too.  But I think it comes down to just how much fun this movie is...the characters are likable and interesting; the dialogue is razor sharp and the actors all have terrific chemistry.  Especially James Stewart and Katharine Hepburn.  That scene with them after the party could be a short film all on its own and it would still be perfect.  And the scene between a drunk Mike and sober Dexter never fails at making me cackle.  I think that this movie is a good recommendation for someone who is looking for more Old Hollywood movies to watch.

And there you have it!  If you’ve made it to the end of this long post, congratulations. :)

There are a couple more of his movies I would like to check out, like Vivacious Lady and Bell, Book and Candle...maybe I’ll make an addition/update to this countdown.

Also, I never realized until I looked at his filmography, just how many westerns this man starred in...he made around 20 over the course of his career, which is so interesting to me, since he’s not the first person I think of when I think “westerns”...but anyway...thanks for reading!

[davnittbraes]

The First Step - Chapter Five

Part of The World Is Light, Embodied.

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader (eventually)

Rating: Explicit (not in this chapter but the series is so 

Word Count: 4400

Warnings etc: Reader insert, female reader, anxiety, alcohol consumption, angsty yearning and tension, I hate slow burns why am I doing this to myself

Notes: I have no idea if alcohol is illegal on Kinyen, but the Gran don’t tolerate it well and the only mention of any kind of cantina on their home planet is a “speakeasy” in Capra so I figured it’s probably outlawed? Idk. Am I overthinking this? Definitely. Moving on. I’m making stuff up about houjix here, though now I really want one.

Please check out the Series Masterlist page for more info.

Hyperspace lines blur past the transparisteel, painting the cockpit in a faint white glow, the hum of the engines a hypnotic counterpart. Takodana is only moments behind you, but far enough away that the sting of the bruises on your arm aren’t so distracting anymore.

A heavy silence lies over the small space. And not the kind of silence you like.

This silence is buzzing with tension and anticipation. It crawls along your skin, quickening your pulse, trying to twitch your fingers and shift your hips in your seat.

There are questions coming. Questions about what had just happened, about your past. You have to find some way to answer without lying - the bounty hunter will be able to tell if you lie, you have no doubt about that.

Mando sits back in his chair, visor on the transparisteel, but you can feel his gaze, like he’s looking at you out of the corner of his eye. Training your expression into a mask of innocent politeness, you silently wait for him to do or say something.

Time passes, minutes ticking by along with the lines of hyperspace.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak.

He’s waiting you out, waiting for you to break, and even though you know that, it’s not helping the anxiety bubbling up hot in the pit of your stomach.

Ok, you can’t take it anymore. “So where are we headed?”

The helmet turns ever-so-slightly toward you, his voice low and calm. “That depends. Is ‘Katye’ your real name?”

Kriff. Right to the point, no surprise there.

You need to be careful, figure out how to respond without giving too much -

Stop.

I can’t keep doing this.

You chose to follow him - twice, now - knowing how dangerous he is for you.

This is a consequence of your decision. A consequence you accepted in exchange for following whatever it is that keeps pulling you together.

And he’s been… good to you. Kind, polite - well, maybe not by some social standards but the effort was there, at least. He’s helped you get out of trouble despite having no real obligation to you.

Maybe you… maybe you can trust him. A little.

And he’s got the kid to think of. You can’t blame him for wanting to know who you are, with the little guy to protect.

He needs honesty, now.

As much as you can give him.

Turning slightly in your chair, you face him, and the helmet swivels to look at you. “I’ll answer your question as best I can. But there are some things… I can’t talk about parts of my life. I understand your reasons for being suspicious - pfassk, I’m practically a blaring signal horn to a bounty hunter, I get that. So if my answer isn’t enough, I’ll stay where you can keep an eye on me until we hit dirt again, then I’ll leave and we can forget we ever met.”

He’s quiet for a moment, then shifts to face you fully, resting his hands on his thighs. “Tell me what you can.”

The soft tone of his words throws you off for a moment. The fact that he wants to respect your boundaries - and give you a chance to set them - is not what you were expecting from a man who commands the space around him, silently daring anyone and anything to contradict him.

Your throat is dry, you swallow hard and take a deep breath. “‘Katye’ was the name I went by when I was working with Bril’s crew. He found me living on the streets, and I didn’t have anyone, family or friends. I needed money, a place to stay. So I joined him.”

Memories threaten to pull you into the past and you move your gaze to the control console, not really seeing the mysterious switches and knobs, just needing a neutral space to look at. “They treated me like one of their own at first, and I thought I was safe with them. We did jobs, mostly small-time smuggling and robberies. Eventually though, we started to get attention, and Bril wanted us to go after a risky target with a bigger take so we could go underground for a while, wait for the heat to die off.”

A sharp smile curves your lips. “Of course, what I didn’t know was that they had figured out a more efficient way to get a bigger payday and deflect attention - by setting me up to take the fall. But the job went bad, I realized what their real plan was and I escaped. Took what credits I had been promised and left, started over.”

He’s still for a moment, a silent statue of silver, black and brown. When he speaks, his tone is oddly amused. “That’s where you learned to fight like you do.”

“What do you mean, ‘like I do?’” Frowning at him, you shift in your seat. “I’m no Mandalorian, I’m not professionally trained or whatever, but I can defend myself.”

He lifts a hand slightly, a flicker of orange-fingered leather in a subtle placating gesture. “You fight like someone who has done it to survive. You don’t hold back, you fight with everything you’ve got.”

“Because I am everything I’ve got.” Emotion pulls at your chest, and you shove it away forcefully.

That’s an old wound, should be healed by now, for crikk’s sake.

“I… can understand that.”

That same emotion is in his modulated voice.

Right. Mandalorian.

Silence ticks by, and you try to find some way to stop it, something to say to divert from the last words exchanged. But your chest is too tight, and your eyes are stinging, and you know if you try to speak right now you’re just going to humiliate yourself.

He moves, leaning forward so his elbows rest on his knees. It’s a strangely defenseless position for him, as if he’s trying to make himself seem smaller. “The kid and I are… laying low. There are people who want to take him, dangerous people. I’m charged with keeping him safe.”

A pang of concern flashes through your chest. “Who?”

The helmet tilts, black visor considering. “I can’t tell you.”

You fall into silence again, meeting his unseen gaze, chewing on your bottom lip. There’s a tentative trust building in the space between you, one that you don’t want to break. “Ok. We both have secrets. I’ll respect yours, as you respect mine.”

He nods once, sitting back in his chair. “Is there anyone else you’re avoiding?”

“I… yes. But I will tell you if I think we’re going to cross paths with them.” You meet that black visor’s gaze steadily, pushing as much sincerity and honesty into your words as you can. “And I won’t let my past endanger the kid. I promise you that.”

You let your words fall and land as they will. That’s all you can say. If that’s not enough… well, whatever is drawing you to him, that intense attraction that pervades even your dreams, it’s not worth giving up your truth.

For a moment he doesn’t move or speak, just looks at you, weight of his gaze pressing you into the seat.

Then he stands abruptly. “You can stay with us until you find a suitable place to start over.” The atmosphere in the cockpit shifts, tension dissipating. “We’ll reach Kinyen in about sixteen hours. I don’t have a bunk, but you can find a space in the hold for yourself. There’s extra blankets in storage.”

He turns before you can say anything, two strides and he’s dropping down into the hold in a flurry of silver and black, leaving you staring at the empty place where he had stood.

Wait -

Springing out of your seat, you follow him, skimming down the ladder and landing lightly on your feet. He pauses, turning to look back at you, an obvious question in the tilt of his helmet.

You freeze.

Pfassk, he’s right there, barely made it a step from the ladder, his tall frame and broad shoulders block out the lights above him, cast him in shadow, pull you into the darkness. He’s so close, you could touch him if you wanted, just reach out and feel -

The thick fabric of duraweave over solid muscle scratches faintly under your fingertips, warmth of the skin beneath quickly bleeding through. Blinking rapidly, you look down and realize your hand is curled around his bicep, right below his pauldron, gripping lightly but firmly as if afraid he’ll slip out of reach.

Oh.

You hadn’t meant to -

It was almost involuntary, like you couldn’t help yourself -

Pfassk.

That’s a terrifying concept.

“Thank you.” The words burst from your lips, a little too loud, edged with the bewildered anxiety boiling in your thoughts. Taking a breath, you try again. “Thank you for stepping in back there, with-with Bril. And for… for letting me stay, even though I can’t tell you everything you want to know.”

The helmet tips in a silent nod. Then he looks down at your hand, still wrapped around his arm.

Dank farrik. You’re still touching him and now it’s weird and awkward and you pull your hand away -

Smooth leather grasps your fingers.

You stop breathing.

His gloved hand curves around yours, thumb brushing over your knuckles, words falling softly into the space between you. “Everyone’s got their own armour of sorts.”

Then he’s gone, turning and striding away out of sight, leaving you standing there, hand hovering in the air as his last words repeat in your mind.

Everyone’s got their own armour of sorts.

The words are your own, said to him after thinking you’d pushed too hard, making him uncomfortable about never taking off his helmet. Not an apology but something more meaningful.

A statement of acceptance.

Realization runs through your body in a tremor.

Your secrets are your armour, carefully placed over the delicate parts of you, keeping you safe from harm.

But you’d never told anyone about your time with Bril and his crew. Not even the few people in your life who had managed to slide into something like a friendship with you. No, you had kept that secret close, just like all the others.

Until today.

Yes, your secrets are your armour. And somehow, the Mandalorian had slipped underneath it.

*****

Capra was one of the only places on Kinyen to get a decent drink, so even if the city wasn’t nestled along the Saeduree River, a bright blue tract of freshwater that shimmered beautifully in the sunlight, you would have loved it anyway.

There was a little speakeasy on a side street in the northwest quarter, shoved in-between an electronics repair shop and a fabric store. Since the native Kinyen species, the Gran, couldn’t biologically tolerate alcohol, it was legally prohibited planet-wide, though you were pretty sure the local authorities were well aware of the speakeasy and chose to look the other way.

The Gran might be generally sober, but the non-Gran who came to Capra were usually not, and the locals understood the importance of making sure their business partners and tourists were comfortable and relaxed, ideally with a bit of an alcoholic buzz in their system to ease negotiations and help lighten wallets.

You were settled into a cozy corner of the speakeasy with the kid floating in his pod beside you, on the opposite side of the room from the Mandalorian and the Ithorian he was speaking with. They were talking in hushed tones too soft for you to make out what they were saying.

Which was fine, you hadn’t come along to pry into Mando’s business - you figure the only reason he’d agreed to let you come with him was because he was more reluctant to leave you alone on the ship than he was to reveal who he was meeting with. He hadn’t said so, but you had sensed his internal struggle, and suggested your current situation, with you keeping the kid out of trouble while staying far enough away not to accidentally overhear whatever it was Mando was discussing with the Ithorian.

“Kriff, kid, chew before you swallow or you’ll end up ruining another robe.” You reach over and take the sweetcake out of his tiny hands, breaking it up into smaller chunks for him to eat.

He burbles at you cheekily, but he does slow down at least.

Sitting back in your chair, you take a sip from the glass of whisky you’d bought - a couple fingers of Corellian. Not enough to affect you, obviously, since you were babysitting. But enough to settle in your stomach, warm and heavy. And encourage your thoughts to drift as you watch the kid snack away.

What was the little guy to the Mandalorian, anyway? You’re pretty sure the kid isn’t biologically Mando’s - ears like that couldn’t fit under a helmet - unless Mom’s genes were extra strong. Besides, Mando had said he was “charged with protecting” the child, which didn’t sound like a typical father-child relationship. But who would give the kid to someone who couldn’t speak his language? And why to a lone, Mandalorian bounty hunter?

Your thoughts come up blank. It’s no use, you don’t have enough information to come to any kind of conclusion about Mando and the kid.

Movement draws your attention. A blue and yellow striped creature shuffles out from around the corner of the bar, beady black eyes peering at you warily from above a wide mouth.

A houjix!

The four-legged cephalopods prefer freshwater habitats but enjoy scrambling about on land for short periods of time, especially if their owners are around. Known for their friendly dispositions, only acting aggressively when seriously threatened, they’re popular pets among the Gran, but not so much elsewhere - being not exactly pleasant to look at by popular standards, most people pass them over for more attractive animal companions.

Which, of course, means you have a soft spot for them.

You lean down, twitching your fingers just above the floor. The houjix’s gaze immediately locks onto the motion, spiky clubbed tail flicking in interest. Tentatively, it crawls across the floor, pausing every few steps to peer around as if anxiously assessing potential risks.

The bartender stops his tidying to watch the interaction, calling out to the houjix, something in Gran that you don’t understand but that sounds encouraging.

The houjix glances back at the bartender, then turns to you, moving forward with a bit more enthusiasm. You can’t help but smile as the creature sniffs at your fingers, nudges its scaly nose into the palm of your hand.

The kid coos, ears perked with curiosity, watching the houjix as you scratch the space between its eyes, and you smile. “They’re very friendly, see? But they spook easily so you have to move slowly and be quiet around them.”

Leaning forward to see better, the kid giggles when you tickle under the houjix chin and it pants happily, big tongue lolling out from the wide mouth. The whole scene is so endearing - the kid’s delighted curiosity, the houjix’s goofy grin - a warmth that’s not from the whiskey blooms in your stomach.

Then there’s a movement from the far side of the room and the houjix startles, scrambling back to hide behind the bar. You look up to see Mando striding toward your table.

“Making friends?” He sounds amused as the helmet turns to look from you to where the houjix disappeared.

You shrug, swallowing the last mouthful of whisky and reaching over to brush crumbs from the front of the kid’s robe. “Recruiting. Thought you might want to add to your adorable creatures collection.”

“Not sure I’d call that thing ‘adorable.’” He keys in a command on his vambrace and the kid’s pod floats toward him.

“Aw come on, every creature has its charms. Even scaly, snaggle-toothed squid. And big, scary Mandalorians.”

Dank farrik. Didn’t mean to say that.

You push back the flood of embarrassment and change the subject quickly. “Are we leaving?”

The black visor just looks at you for a moment, then turns away as he moves toward the door. “Yes. We’re heading back to the Crest.”

“‘The Crest?’ You stand to follow him. “Is that the name of the ship?”

He pauses, helmet tilting in what you think is surprise. “Yes. The Razor Crest. The name is written on the side, can… can you read Basic?”

A barrage of memories explodes across your thoughts, pulling a wave of hot anger to the surface. You quickly shove it back down - another old wound that should have healed by now. “Oh, I can read well enough. But I try not to look too hard at anything mechanical. It can sense my attention and tends to break instantly just to spite me.”

“Your blaster is mechanical.” He gestures to your thigh holster, his tone lightly teasing.

You pat the blaster strapped to your thigh gently. “I’ve had this one for years, only blaster that has never jammed on me. I’ve deduced that it must be immune to my curse.”

He huffs his laugh but doesn’t respond to that, turning to stride toward the exit door. Following him and the kid out of the speakeasy, you throw the bartender a friendly wave over your shoulder as you step out into the sunny street.

It’s a beautiful day, warm, with a light breeze coming off the river that carries the fresh scent of the grain fields beyond the city. Even though Capra has a population of millions and hosts the main spaceport for the planet, the city itself is clean and almost quaint, architecture inspired by the Gran’s agricultural history, with smaller buildings than what you’d usually see in a big city and narrow streets obviously designed for carts with wheels and other ancient methods of transporting goods.

The Gran you pass by are friendly enough, offering polite greetings though you’re a complete stranger. One even waves to you as you move through the streets back to the ship.

You wave back, smiling pleasantly. “This isn’t a bad little place.”

The helmet turns to look at you. “Are you planning on staying here, then?”

“Oh. Uh…” You hesitate, uncertainty suddenly churning in your stomach. “I guess I could. I’ve worked on farms before, could probably scrape out a living as a hired hand for a bit.”

It’s the right thing to do. Kinyen is quiet and peaceful with plenty of opportunities for you to take the next step.

But that black visor is pinned on you, the mysterious gaze behind it a question that’s impossible to ignore.

Forcing a light chuckle from your oddly tight chest, you smile crookedly. “Who am I kidding, me, on a planet with only one bar? Doesn’t seem like a long-term option, to be honest.”

Mando looks away again - was that a little shift of relief in his shoulders? - as he leads you and the kid around a corner, heading down the street that ends at the spaceport, where the ship is docked. “I wouldn’t have picked you for a heavy drinker.”

Shrugging one shoulder, you scoff. “I did have my days, when I was younger. Now, I enjoy a good drink once in a while.”

“Just whisky?”

He noticed what you were drinking.

Of course he did, the man notices everything.

You throw him a glare of mock offence. “Oh, I dabble in other areas. When it comes to whisky, though, I’ll try it but nothing beats Corellian. Every other whisky is subpar.”

“Is that where you’re from? Corellia?”

The question throws you off, teasing attitude fading slightly. Most people would expect you to either confirm it or clarify where you were actually from. But that’s too close to those secrets you’re trying to keep. “No, I’m just a fan of their main alcoholic export.”

He falls silent. Kriff, there you go again, derailing the slowly growing… whatever it is between the two of you. He’s going to get sick of your avoidance, kick you off on the next planet, maybe even make you stay here -

“I’ve never had it.”

You’re unable to stop from staring at him, struggling to pull your focus out of your spiraling anxiety. “You’ve never had Corellian whisky?”

The helmet tilts just slightly toward you in a way you’re starting to recognize means he’s amused. “No.”

You click your tongue. “That’s a tragedy, right there. Never had Corellian… next time I get my hands on some, you have to try it.”

“Fine. But it better live up to the hype you’re giving it.”

“Trust me, you won’t be disappointed.”

He falls into silence again, but it doesn’t feel strained this time, just a natural quiet that you’re starting to realize is a frequent occurrence with him.

The spaceport pops into sight as you pass some buildings, the ship - the Razor Crest - looming over the speeders waiting for the next transport to come in, and your curiosity sparks. “Where are we headed next? Are you tracking a bounty?”

“I haven’t taken bounties since I found the kid.”

Huh. That’s surprising. Wait - “‘Found’ the kid? Like just stumbled across him on the street one day?”

He’s quiet for a moment again. “Not exactly.”

You can sense the edge of that wall he keeps around his secrets, and you instinctively back off, thoughts picking through what he had said. “So how do you pay for everything?” You immediately clap a hand over your mouth. “Wow, that was wildly inappropriate. Please ignore me, it’s not my business.”

The black visor stays looking straight ahead, but you catch that tilt of amusement again. “I take jobs when I need money. Whatever work I can find that doesn’t put the kid in danger.”

“How long have you had him?”

“A while.”

You raise your eyebrows. “And it’s just been you and him?”

“For the most part, yes.”

“So you’ve been caring for him, by yourself, while taking work for money so you don’t starve or get stranded somewhere with no fuel?” Something like sympathy twists in your chest. “That’s a lot for one person to take on.”

The black visor does look at you then, a quick glance that is completely unreadable to you. “This is The Way.”

He said those words with a rhythmic intonation, as if they were a… prayer? Chant? He had mentioned a creed, of some kind, when you had asked him about why he never removes his helmet. Maybe those words have to do with his creed.

Regardless, the life he’s describing sounds tough, full of struggle and worry.

You look down at the kid floating beside you, reaching out to gently stroke the edge of one floppy ear. He stares up at you, big eyes wide and solemn, and the twinge in your chest grows. “The “way” seems… harsh.”

“The Way is The Way of The Mandalore. To follow The Way, one must protect one’s clan.”

Now that definitely sounds like something ceremonial. Mandalorians are fighters, you know that much. No surprise their culture is focused on protecting their clans - protecting the future of their people in a galaxy that seems to be constantly at war.

You tweak the end of the kid’s ear. “And he’s part of your clan?”

“Yes.”

There’s a note of something in his voice that’s dimmed by the modulator, and you can’t quiet tell what it is, but you don’t want to pry. “Well, that answers that question. I was wondering what your relationship to the kid was, but if he’s part of your clan, I get it now.”

“You do?” His surprise is obvious even through the modulator.

“Yeah. Your clan is your family, right? So even if you’re not biologically related, he’s still your… well, seems like he sees you as his father, so. He’s your son.”

The helmet turns away again, his body language stiff.

Crikking hells, messed up again.

Honesty. It worked last time.

You stop abruptly, and after a step he pauses, turning slightly to look back at you. “Ok, I need to explain something. I’m not used to… uh, this kind of conversation.”

Great job, very concise, now he’s probably more confused than before.

Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you try again. “I mean the kind of conversation where I’m not analyzing everything the other person is saying, trying to figure out what they want from me, second-guessing each word. I… I don’t usually let people this close.”

And stop right there, that’s getting a little too personal.

But he’s still staring at you, silent, and the words keep flowing.

“I’m just not used to feeling… free to talk, I guess. But I don’t want to upset you or make you uncomfortable - you’ve been respectful of my boundaries, I want to do the same for yours.” Chewing your bottom lip, you search for the right words to get across what you’re trying to say. “So if I say something you don’t like, please tell me to kindly kriff off and I’ll shut my mouth.”

A strange sound comes through the modulator - was that a laugh?

Those ridiculously broad shoulders quiver.

The Mandalorian is laughing at you. Not just his little huff, an actual, legitimate laugh.

A confusing mix of mild offence and amused delight make you smile in bewilderment.

The helmet moves once from side to side. “I wouldn’t dare. That mouth of yours is one of your best features.”

Then he’s turning away and starting off down the street again, the kid gliding along behind him in his little pod. You stare after them, a foreign warmth blooming beneath your ribs that leaves you breathless.

That mouth of yours is one of your best features.

Dank farrik.

The potential double-meaning behind his words…

Yeah, no. Not gonna go there.

You don’t need any more fuel added to that attraction simmering under your skin. That seems to be getting worse on all its own.

Maybe you should stay on Kinyen. If you keep following the Mandalorian, it’s going to be more and more difficult to ignore whatever that warmth is under your ribs, fluttering within your heartbeat.

Then the helmet turns, flashing in the sunlight, and that unseen gaze falls on you again.

Your feet move toward him without any further hesitation.

*****

Previous Chapter     Next Chapter

[quibbs126]

Because they’re still on my mind despite still me not drawing them…heck what was the segue

Anyways, uh, long story short, I want to rename these guys

I’ve decided now that Capra have somewhat color themed names, with their names either being a color, something that evokes a certain color, or is similar to one of those two options. But the name matches the color of their fur/hair

For example, we have Periwinkle, named after the color, Basil, who is green, and Chroma, who’s based off of chrome metal and is white/light grey. I don’t think I’ve shown you any of these characters (partially because two of these guys I just came up with this week), but they exist

So I need new names for these guys, since their names aren’t color based

For those who don’t remember, top to bottom we have Rasmus, Rowan and Cassidy

Rowan I’m considering renaming to Rusty, since his family generally has a metal theme to their names. As for Rasmus and Cassidy, I’m not sure

Though I also need a new name for Rasmus pre-Rasmus as well. Something green, since that’s what he was

If anyone’s willing to help, that’d be appreciated. I know these are characters most of you probably don’t care about, but if you are

[thenightlymirror]

I am in the middle of a manic episode, so left work early. Took it easy, and went to bed at 5:30pm

Last week, Thursday, I woke up in the middle of the night realizing that a monument was installed in the wrong place. 1.5 feet too far to the right. I watched the granite company install this monument in the snow, and even then, I had no idea. I simply could not see what I was seeing. I got out of bed, showered, and drove to the cemetery early in the morning fog. There was a car already there, strangely enough. They left as I pulled up.

See, the counselor knew. That wasn’t the person there. I still have no idea who that was. But they sent me an email right before the blizzard, and it has been under snow and ice this whole time. When I went out there to install, I thought, no this is perfect.

Grounds has done nothing for me since before Christmas. Neither have my engravers (since Thanksgiving). All week, I have been waiting for one dry day to get things done.

That day was today.

I’ve been listening to a lot of Title Fight.

One of the counselors went on vacation, and right before, she handed me a file and said a family wanted a bench and had no idea what they wanted it to look like. They just had some stock photo of a sunset they wanted to use.

I asked her to give me just one sheet, one sheet with the names and everything, and she spasmed and shouted that she couldn’t! She just couldn’t right now. Jesus.

I wasn’t going to touch it at all, but it occurred to me that it might be pretty cool to have designed a bench right in the middle of the cremation garden. So, after getting home on Friday night, I sat around doing nothing for a few hours, and then drove back to the cemetery at night to take photos of the existing bench.

Anything could happen.

I came home and taught myself how to use Inkscape, a kind of free Illustrator. That took a minute. This was after I spent a night using GIMP to construct pasted together ideas. I honestly was so pumped up by my delusions of grandeur that I forgot I was cobbling together clip art from what looked like the world’s worst lower back tattoo.

So, I didn’t sleep for a few days.

Everyone else gets days off, but not me. For the last few months. Harper is always off. My bosses were out for the whole holiday black-out period, which made it seem like it was blacked out specifically so they could vacation.

When I try to fall asleep, I just have Title Fight’s “27” blasting in my head at what feels like an astonishing volume. That, or Cursive, or Joyce Manor, or Braid. I should have known I was going into a manic episode when I stopped compulsively listening to Elliott Smith. I always tell myself, don’t listen to Elliott Smith, you’re gonna trigger yourself. Well, it usually takes a week or two.

It wasn’t so bad. Sure, life is unbearable, but it could be sharply wounding, and it isn’t quite that.

I missed dinner with my friends tonight, which is fine. Last week, I was backing out of my friend’s driveway and sailed on the ice directly into her car. They’ve been a little frosty since. Though, that’s usually the case.

I watched Frank Capra’s You Can’t Take It with You, last week. It’s such a perfect little anarchist film. Like It’s A Wonderful Life, but a little further down the road. Harper mentioned she played Alice in a high school play once. I expressed familiarity, and she looked at me differently for the rest of the week, like I had actually seen her. It was nice. Alice in the movie does some incredible things, like getting introduced on screen picking up a telephone receiver with her mouth. She’s always moaning, “Tony!”

Is it morning yet?

[ladymariayuri]

i was literally going at it for HOURS and like. i was in call at the time but at some point was so pissed i just stopped talking except for being like "if i stop playing now im never picking this fuckin game up again." and finally one of my friends was like "you want some help??" joined my game died instantly and somehow this powered me to beat the boss almost flawlessly. but the amount of fuckin times i died when i was MOMENTS AWAY FROM THE BUG... my fucking God. really fun game though excited to play the others

oh my god same. i was so mad because up to that point the most i had died to anything was capra demon (and capra demon is. capra demon. lol.) and that was for maybe 45 minutes of getting stunlocked on the way there or immedaitely after getting into the fog wall. i was dying on that thing for like 2 hours easilly and i was fucking hysterical. i forget if i killed bed before i took a break for like a month or after, but i have a feeling that it was the same day that i had died on the way to seath like 3 times in a row and i was just so irritated i didnt log in until new years eve lmfao. its so fucking vile. also yaaaay dark souls 3 and sekiro are my favorites ^_^ excited for you to get there

[bracketsoffear]

Director Lee Harvey Oswald (The Department of Truth) "In The Department of Truth, the protagonist’s boss (and the director of the titular department) is a much older Lee Harvey Oswald, though it’s not explicitly known which version of him he is. As in, what story of the assassination is true? Is he the CIA stooge? The innocent patsy? The lone gunman? Our protagonist muses this question in the second issue and can only conclude: “He’s probably not the one killed by Jack Ruby.” And looking at the picture the comic paints of who he is now, he seems much more the type to spend his time in Howard Hunt’s circles than Kerry Thornley’s, if you know what I mean. He has become the image of the perfect Cold War-era fed with his browline glasses, dark suit, quips about a new generation gone soft, and an ever-present cigarette. And that’s because he always has been that. He joined the Department as an agent when he was 19, working to counter the Soviets and gain information on their country’s equivalent of the D.o.T. And we, the reader, do not know what happened on November day in Dallas, but neither does he, it seems. Kennedy stood against the Department and it was his job to take him out, but in that book depository, he saw the Scarlet Woman (see the Extinction poll) holding a sniper rifle, ready to tear apart the country’s sense of truth with a bullet. (Well, three.) But as the story of the assassination spread, so did the idea of Lee Harvey Oswald, the concept of the shadowy assassin that was seen on the front pages, the conflicting theories and paranoias made manifest. To quote Hawk Harrison (another character), “the living embodiment of every horrible thing people think the government is capable of, filled up into a man-shaped thing.” No matter how human he may or may not be, he might as well be American paranoia personified in function. He’s a man desperate to do whatever it takes to uphold the ideal of what America is supposed to be, that Shining City on a Hill; a man fighting in a war of propaganda and information and disinformation, a war of stories and ideas. To quote Indrid Cold, he’s simply a “dream this country is having.” 

History is, of course, written by the victors, and facts can be rewritten by them as well. After Lee’s “death”, the previous Director (Frank Capra) put him in the Department’s archives to try and figure out who the Scarlet Woman was, only for him to use the research to find a new way of doing things, a way to shift reality through manipulating what people believe to be true on a large scale through media, and symbolic imagery, and simple lies that serve to reinforce what the public wants to believe about this country, and for that, Richard Nixon appointed him to the job we know him in, Director of the D.o.T. Director Capra was a naïve idealist who truly believed that the American Dream was not only real but could be achieved through hard work. Lee knows that the American Dream is a lie, but my god, he will do what it takes to make it real, no matter how underhanded the tactics. If you can control the narrative, you can control the Truth. 

For most of his tenure, it was the height of the Cold War, there was a distinct enemy to push against. It was a conflict of countries, of ideologies, of two superpowers trying to keep their way of life at the expense of the other, and it was the U.S. that won out. There is another version of the 20th century, the one that was once real, where the founding ideals of the USSR were much closer to being realized within its border, it was something better than what it became, but the U.S. won the propaganda war and what was once simply a fact had become a hazy fiction that never happened. And so the victor rewrites history. 

And how does one become the victor? Through whatever means necessary, from fabricating events that later became real, to assassinations, to media manipulation, to the creation of the Satanic Panic itself, playing off paranoia and Christian nationalism to strengthen the idea that America is something that exists, that the American Dream is worth fighting for. (And of course, in the case of the latter, to deflect media attention from the whole Iran-Contra Deal.)

Finally, I leave you with this monologue: “I know you don’t trust me. I don’t care. I’ve done enough bad shit, and spent the last sixty years of my life lying through my teeth every goddamn day. I don’t need you to trust me. But I need to trust you to know that the ends justify the means. You’re sour over your star-faced man. Hawk told you that he stoked the fire there, tried to make it seem realer than it was. That we had a vested interest in people believing that Satan was lurking behind every corner. I was younger then. I was stepping boldly. I was trying to defend the dream of what America was supposed to be. Not let those Russian fucks dictate our future. I’ve done many things that haunt me, more than you can imagine.”

This description has been abridged. Click link for Director Oswald's full description.

The Narrator (The Stanley Parable) "He literally controls the whole game, while the player is technically in control of Stanley, the narrator does have control of the world around him. He actively manipulates Stanley's feelings and surrounding to get what he wants. He makes a fake wife for Stanley to play with his emotions, he gets angry and spiteful when he clicks the button to turn on the mind-control facility so he blows it up while giving Stanley the illusion he can stop it just to play with him. He also wants to hear how he's the best and his game is the best in the game causing to him to suffer in the skip-button ending. While he's not fully connected to spiders there is a ending where he's connected to tape-recorders and makes it look like they are just him to play and manipulate Stanley more. There is also a bit of the dramatic irony that is the fact he's also trapped in the game which is funny."