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ribbonverse · 2 months

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y u do dis?

Fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57162358

I feel like by the end of the Soul Society arc, the Bleach universe already had plenty of width, and what it needed going forward was more depth. Instead it kept piling powers upon powers and retcons kept accumulating on top of reveals. And for what?

To use an in-universe metaphor, Bleach lost its heart and became a Hollow long ago, and has been haunting the people who loved it ever since. That's the case for me, at least. It's very frustrating to me that a great series with a ton of potential was completely squandered because the author is apparently allergic to relationships or something.

Anyway, I think it's fair to say that along with just being Really Cool, Bleach until the end of the Soul Society arc had an emotional core that appealed to many people. It was pretty clear that Ichigo wasn't just saving Rukia because he felt it was his duty or whatever. He was saving someone who completely changed his life on multiple levels, including an emotional one, and he was saving her because he felt very passionately about it. This was clear because it was set up in the previous story arc, starting all the way in chapter 1.

But instead of what it was actually set up as, the story of Bleach until the end of the Soul Society arc became "boy meets girl, girl saves boy and his family by giving him her powers, boy and girl work together and become close, girl gets in trouble and is going to get executed, boy pushes himself to a breaking point and corrupts his soul to obtain the power to save girl, gets almost killed many times but finally saves girl (or thereabouts), boy and girl go their separate ways as friends."

A pretty ridiculous ending if you ask me, but it had to happen because it was in the script.

Hey, what's that on the ground there, is that the script? Let's have a look, shall we.

Huh? The main character doesn't get a moment's rest before being targeted by the Bad Guys and is now basically useless? And two seconds after obtaining the One Ring Hōgyoku that was supposed make his Hollow experiments a success, Aizen already has his own Budget Gotei 13, which is just the Captains and no other characters, and none of them are interesting because they're literally just self-centered and unhinged Bad Guys with no other purpose than being antagonists?

And when they're not out antagonizing the Main Character, they're just waiting for him in Budget Soul Society, a dimension that's literally just an empty desert with some simple geometric shapes passing for buildings here and there, like someone made their first 3D models in Blender and tried to create their own MMO?

And why's everyone got Spanish names all of a sudden? Where's all the cool Japanese stuff?

Wait, what's this? The girl that the boy almost destroyed his soul in order to save is back, and now she's grabbing him and shoving his face at the Budget Magical Girl and basically telling them to kiss? It's like she broke the fourth wall, saw that people were shipping her with the Main Character, and said "NOPE".

But I thought Bleach wasn't about relationships anymore, and now we're going with one of the least likely pairings in this particular universe?

Well, it's in the script, so it had to happen.

The so-called story really goes off the rails as time goes on. I don't even know how many people actually cared about Bleach past a certain point, because people don't keep reading/watching stuff they don't care about. And as a consequence, the fans that are left after a while are the ones who think the current state of the work is actually good for some reason.

Basically what I'm saying is, f the script, 'cause it's really dumb. I guess that's the essence of fanfiction a lot of the time.

In slightly less ranty terms

It seems to me that it became a less-than-generic, angsty series about endlessly fighting for some nebulous reason that everyone's long forgotten about, where Ichigo is stuck in an infinite loop of wearing a scared or desperate expression because he's failing, then getting a powerup, and either winning or losing before repeating the cycle. And the impressive part is that all of this happens without any major emotional significance or growth as a person.

It also didn't help that I found the attempts at Spanish influence that appeared post-Soul Society to be supremely uninteresting and strangely executed. It's basically just words that are entirely unconnected to the rest of the universe, making them feel really out of place.

The Japanese stuff, the characters and the exploration of certain aspects of the Shinigami world was what made things so fascinating. But then everyone put on these white Halloween masks and started playing Hollows, like someone was inspired by the least intersting parts of the first story arc and begun writing bad fanfiction (no offense).

The setting changed from an actual Society to a literal desert, the only purpose of which is to contain the Bad Guys that the Protagonist needs to defeat, like a cheaply made RPG where there's only one significant landmark in the entire game world and enemies just keep spawning on a flat field for the players to grind until they level up.

What's the point of an uninhabited place that's only populated by hostile NPCs with overinflated egos and nothing of interest to say? If I ever want to subject myself to that, I'll go play a Souls game (note: I'm not actually going to do that, so don't call the hotline. I'm not prone to self-harm).

Not that Soul Society was a masterpiece of worldbuilding either. Pac-Man, anyone? You could probably write a melancholy song titled The Walls of Seireitei in which Kenpachi laments how he can never find a worthy opponent in this endless maze, and if only he was programmed to have the ability to jump he might be able to escape this fresh hell. But the game only has quick-time events, so he can only jump at pre-determined points in the story.

I guess these days you could have an AI write and compose that song for you, and it would be pretty good.

But in any case, you can look at almost anything other than the empty environments in Soul Society and notice that at least an effort was made. Inspiration was taken, there was some really Cool Stuff in every volume, if not every chapter. And I don't mean the cosplayers-wearing-Hollow-masks kind of "cool" that things devolved into, I mean interesting things being said, characters/Zanpakutou shown, and events unfolding, putting the actions of our characters into a larger context.

In other words, worldbuilding. Now that was cool. And characters can only really be cool if the concept of "cool" is properly defined and established within the context of the fictional world they inhabit. Like the Bankai, for example. But who cares about seeing yet another one when everyone finds a Bankai under their seat and it becomes a requirement for participation?

It should also matter why someone attains a Bankai or any sort of power. Oh, what's that? The main character puts himself through training that amounts to torture and corruption of his soul, gets nearly killed in almost every subsequent fight he participates in, goes through yet more torturous training to attain the Ultimate Power, visibly ages during his journey to save a woman he has a very special relationship with, has some kind of evil demon take residence within his soul due to how far he went for her, and in the end they're Just Friends?

Sure, now tell me the one about the one-armed Shinigami and his rabbit-shaped Bankai.

All of this was probably said a million times over 15 years ago, but I don't particularly care. What I do care about is that great things were done and there was amazing potential for the future, but it was flushed down the toilet. Along with the Only Correct Ship™.

So I wrote a fic. It's an IchiRuki ship at its core, but I also added some things to the world when inspiration struck. I mostly wrote this as a form of emotional expression and to let out the ideas that came to me in the small hours of one morning.

So far there are over 70k 50k words that are mostly ready to be published, as well as some stuff for a possible follow-up series. However, some finishing touches need to be put on still, so it's not all going to come out at once.

Also, this is the first fanfiction (and really the first creative work of any kind) I've ever written. So keep that in mind.

It's also not going to be for everyone, because I've been heavily influenced by certain things (mostly David Eddings' Belgariad-verse and Harry Potter). And not everyone finds value in the same things. So if you find it long-winded, it's probably not just you.

#author's note #ichiruki

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viviane-lefay · 5 months

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Dagan Gera & Santari Khri - Headcanon

Part I

Here are some notes about my thoughts & headcanons regarding these two characters - and how I, personally, see them (i.e. some of their backstory + some random facts), as well as their relationship.

I guess, this is something I wrote for myself, first and foremost, so I won't forget

However, if someone happens to like what they found here, then I'd be really, really happy, of course. Finding some like-minded people to talk to would be so nice.

Anyway, here is what I have written so far:

Dagan

First of all some words on his appearance:

I headcanon Dagan as quite tall for an Arkanian Offshoot, measuring 1,90m / 6’25’’ (the average height being 1,80m / 5’11’’).

He is of the athletic and muscular built of a warrior (definitely takes after his father in that), that has yet a lithe, almost elvenlike grace (like his mother) to it, with broad shoulders and long legs.

Blessed with impeccable bone structure, his features are strikingly handsome, refined yet masculine - with a sharp, chiseled jawline, and high, prominent cheekbones, creating a gracefully flowing ogee curve from his brows down to the chin.

His complexion is of a clear and cool marble-white - with a faint rosy sheen, which is especially pronounced on his lips.

As far as I'm concerned, he doesn’t have this weird stripey pattern from the shoulders upwards, because it just isn’t very flattering on his beautiful face, and I think the designers did him a disservice there.

His irises are of a silvery, pale icy blue, with a slightly darker ring at the corneal limbus.

He has long and plenteous lashes rimming his big, almond-shaped, slightly hooded eyes, which are, like his brows, of a darker shade than his hair.

Dagan's flowing mane is quite a sight to behold - thick and silky, it somehow has a lively quality to it, changing colour according to the incidence of light.

There is a slight gradient, with the roots having a darker colour than the lengths and, especially, the tips - plus some additional highlights here and there.

The different shades give it a depth and dimension that only accentuates its fullness - ranging from a deep and smoky steel grey, to a shimmering, frosty silver-white.

He usually kept it at armpit-level, but has since (post game) grown it out to mid-back length.

His hairstyle is fairly simple: The upper part is combed back and held in place by a golden clip - except for a few shorter strands which are framing his face - while the rest is flowing down his back.

For practical reasons, he keeps the lengths neatly tucked into his hood.

He is also keeping a Padawan braid out of sentimental reasons.

(When he still was a Padawan and on a mission together with Santari, he came by an injury on one of his arms, so Santari had to help him a little with doing his hair for a short while.)

He places great importance on having a well-groomed appearance, but not out of vanity. In fact, his good looks is something that he actually is a bit oblivious about. It is rather his abilities that he is quite proud of.

~*~

Many a lady desired the handsome Jedi knight of renown, Dagan Gera, fellow Jedi included, but he only ever had eyes for Santari.

Dagan loved her from the moment he first laid eyes on her - and he knew, with a certainty he could not fathom, that he always would, for as long as he existed.

~*~

"Tough on the outside, soft on the inside." is something that describes Dagan quite well, for the most part.

There is nothing lukewarm about this man. If he loves, then he does so with every fibre of his being - profoundly, fervently, and with unwavering faithfulness.

On the other hand, this can also mean a great capacity for vulnerability, which is why he guards his heart so much.

~*~

While he may be very proud, he puts great emphasis on his code of honour, both as a warrior, and as a man in general.

That is also one of the reasons why he got along so well with Rayvis, becoming good friends on top of being comrades-in-arms.

~*~

Now on to the backstory part:

He entered the Jedi order as an initiate rather late, at the age of 7, despite being exceptionally strong in the Force (midichlorian count of 17500 per cell).

This was because of difficulties the Jedi had in identifying him early on, with him falling under the radar due to living in the secluded slave district on the outskirts of a relatively small and remote city.

Pure-bred Arkanians, which held nothing but contempt for the experiment-born offshoots, usually shunned these areas, characterized by their ghetto-like structures and harsh living conditions, as well as their inhabitants. The only exception to this were a few scientists, overseers and bureaucrats that were tasked with the management of their “biological resources”.

To keep them from rebelling, even the communities of offshoots were made to mirror the rigid hierarchies of the Arkanian caste system, and competitive struggles amongst the populace were very much encouraged, if not enforced.

Dagan was the only child of Medhani & Dhaval Gera, a young couple of higher ranking slaves deployed in the mining business, with Medhani working as an engineer, and Dhaval as construction manager and security guard.

While the working conditions were not as dire as the ones regular miners had to endure, they were still exposed to a hazardous environment, and occupational safety measure laws were a thing that didn’t apply to the slaves who were deemed disposable.

The excessive genetic tampering the offshoot subspecies was subjected to came at the cost of a weakened immune system, which made them vulnerable even to minor illnesses.

When Dagan was 5 years old, Medhani fell seriously ill. Despite her husband’s care, her condition worsened and it soon became apparent that she would not survive without medical attention.

With a heavy heart, Dhaval made a visit to the overseers in the hopes they’d send a physician for examination. Usually, this was seen as a last resort the slaves used to call upon, as the intention behind it was not to give genuine help, but to inspect, and potentially cull, the populace. Only those still deemed useful were given treatment.

It had only been out of desperation that he took this route, as the bond between him and his wife was one of genuine affection, and not, as was customary, based on the utilitarian purposes of the eugenics and breeding programs. Slaves usually did not get to choose their spouses, they were allocated one.

Medhani and Dhaval belonged to the few that resisted this practice, and to the even fewer that were actually successful in their endeavor, as most were forcibly separated. It was only a matter of luck, that, after screening, they were declared a good genetic match, and, thus, allowed to wed.

Unfortunately, the authorized physician decided against treatment and ordered for her to be euthanized (not out of mercy, but to make the respective caregivers free for work again).

Dhaval, who despite it all had clung to hope, was neither able nor willing to accept this, and quickly raised his objections in fierce opposition, but to no avail.

At this point, their small son, who up until then had remained relatively silent, standing hidden in the doorway, came running towards them, loudly protesting and screaming for his mother, only to be ungently grabbed, shoved aside and detained, to make way for the poison that was about to be administered.

At this point, Dhaval snapped and started to attack both the physicians and the overseers. Considering he was just one man facing several opponents at once, he stood his ground for a remarkable amount of time, being particularly tall and strong, and a formidable combatant, trained and highly skilled in various forms of martial arts. Ultimately, however, he was defeated, after reinforcements were called in, and executed on the spot.

With both his parents dead, Dagan was now about to be sent to the housing and educational institution for orphans.

Nobody paid any heed to the boy, and the state of utter shock and distress he was still in – bereaved of the warmth of his family and home.

If anything, Dhaval and Medhani had been loving and attentive parents, intent on creating a little sanctuary amidst the desolation, the cold, always protective of their circle of three – and for Dagan, that is what it was, and what he would always remember, and crave. Neither would he forget, nor forgive that, which had taken all this away from him.

He was but given a certain amount of time to process, and to inter the cremated remains of his parents, which he was handed the following day, before he was picked up.

In Arkania, where detachment, rationality and intellect were deemed the ideal, emotiveness and sentimental bonding was seen as a weakness.

Dagan, however, had always been an emotional child – intelligent, but very much swayed by the stirrings of his heart and his fervour – a trait he would retain into adulthood, even though tempered by necessity and training.

He would come to face much pushback and humiliation because of this trait during his time in the orphanage.

The facility was a dismal and oppressive place that resembled more a factory complex than it did a home, the accommodations desolate, with children living like sardines in a tin.

The education, as they called it, was not so much about the imparting of knowledge, as it was about molding the young minds into the exact shape the rulers desired, perfectly indoctrinated to fulfill their designated role in the societal machinery of Arkania - submissive, hardworking and efficient, loyal only to their owners and ready to betray even their own kind if it meant they were awarded better conditions.

In the two years Dagan spent there, he grew ever more serious and brooding - and increasingly distrustful of others, preferring his own company, never feeling safe to be himself.

His only solace were his abilities, which he honed with great eagerness to succeed - abilities amongst which there were some the others didn’t seem to share. Abilities which kept him safe – and to be safe meant to be strong, to be strong meant to be worthy.

Behind this veneer of strength and confidence there was a face he just couldn’t let them see, a side of him that sometimes even he forgot was there, that yet was the driving force behind everything he was, everything he desired, and stood for – acknowledged or not.

Even later, there were only a few that got a glimpse beneath, and only one person to break this façade altogether – the only one to know who he truly was, the only one he truly trusted and felt safe with, and the one that became the sole focus of his being, his whole universe.

It was one morning that his life would change, and he was summoned to the principal’s office, unaware of what would await him there. As he stepped through the door he saw them – two figures in robes of gold, majestic and noble, an imposing sight in stark contrast to the bleakness that surrounded them.

If it was known that those offshoots that managed to escape their planet often turned out to be among the most driven individuals one could find, determined to prove themselves to be more than an Arkanian slave, it was doubly true with Dagan, who pursued his training with unparalleled ambition and tenacity, pushing himself further than any expectations, placed upon him from outside, demanded.

Even his rather late admittance did not deter him from catching up with, and even surpassing his peers quickly. Combined with his already great latent force abilities, he soon became one of the best, most promising initiates the order had seen in a long, long while.

~*~

By the time he was knighted, he had mastered all forms of Lightsaber techniques (taught during his age) - but with a special emphasis on Form II and VI.

Aside from his abilities with the force and lightsaber, he is also accomplished in a variety of martial arts and hand-to-hand combat disciplines, and can hold his own very well, even without using his lightsaber, or the force.

~*~

When he was put in the bacta tanc, he was 30 years old.

~*~

Coming from a species of genetically tampered slaves, I can only imagine how upsetting it must have been for him to learn about what had become of the republic of old, turned into an empire via an army of likewise genetically engineered soldiers, cloned for a specific purpose, seen as “less than” human, and more as objects and means to an end, not unlike the offshoots were.

It certainly explains the disgust, the sheer contempt and barely concealed anger that is evident in his voice when he speaks about that “unworthy machine of an empire”.

It also explains why he is so keen on building an army to ”cleanse the galaxy with fire”, and his offer to Rayvis to “dream up another [war]” when the latter complained about the lack of honour to be won from the current ones – because to Dagan this indeed IS an honourable goal, justifying the means he is willing to take … and it’s a matter that has become personal, being tied to grievances of the past.

And learning about the Jedi order’s involvement in all of this certainly did not help in improving his opinion about them, either. (He didn’t have to take this out on Cal, though.)

I think these types of injustice were always something he aimed to eradicate, and also one of his and Santari’s shared dreams – to make the galaxy a better place.

I also don’t see him as universally arrogant and condescending – extending to all people indiscriminately – that would be foolish, and he is no such fool.

Imho, it rather concerned those he considered his enemies (obviously), his opponents, and potential rivals, but not regular people who weren’t warriors and force-users like him … I think for them – especially the downtrodden – he had a soft spot, not least due to his own history.

In the flashback scenes on Tanalorr, he talks to Santari about all the worlds he had seen during his explorations that the light of the Jedi did not reach, as he put it. At this point he still equated justice and freedom with the Jedi order, who were seen as the guardians of these values. He truly wanted to bring this light to those worlds, and to the people inhabiting them, because he truly, genuinely sympathized with them and wanted to help them.

[ I absolutely don’t understand how people can see him as a two-dimensional villain after having this background information about him, especially.

Have you guys read up about it!? Arkanian society and history – especially concerning science and medical ethics, as well as the attitude towards sentient life. Like, holy sh*t - Dr. Mengele sends his regards!

To live in such a social system as one of the offshoots, regarded and treated as human trash, truly must have been a nightmare – and it obviously doesn’t leave you unaffected. So, I wouldn’t be surprised if this was one of the causes of his displayed prideful attitude and behaviour – likely as a reactive response of some sorts.

That there is another side to him, his true self, as well, is also an undeniable fact. Of course he has got to have some really endearing and noble qualities, aside from what we were shown.

Otherwise Santari wouldn't have such faith in him, and, as I said, this woman is no fool. She knows her man, as well as this side of him better than anyone else, and she proclaims it with such confidence (in the force echo after the fight in the forrest array).

If anything, these facts are adding to his already great potential of being a complex and fascinating character, who could have been so much more than what he ended up being in the videogame.

But that is definitely something you can blame on the writers, their laziness and disregard. You can definitely tell that they didn’t really care for this character more than him being a mere plot device and tool for Cal’s development, which is really an absolute shame! ]

Santari

Santari entered the Jedi order as an initiate at the common age of 4.

~*~

Unlike Dagan, she did not get to develop a deep bond with her parents, whom she hardly remembered, and did not get to know a home and life as a family the way he did.

~*~

She was very strong in the Force (midichlorian count of 15500 per cell), as well as a gifted, if not brilliant child, whose talents were soon picked up, encouraged and fostered by her superiors. Her ingenious mind stood out like a beacon amongst her peers, and paved the way for her meteoric rise in both ranks and esteem of the Jedi order.

But she also possessed a likewise strong and compassionate heart, and a calm and patient disposition, balancing out her intellectual prowess and vigor.

~*~

Santari's first reaction to Dagan was similar to his (falling in love at first sight).

However, when she witnessed his behaviour towards others – his display of pride and arrogance - which she found unacceptable, she chose to suppress her feelings towards him.

(basically, he only was “that beautiful jerk” to her from then on, whom she wanted nothing to do with, if she could help it, but who somehow seemed to always cross her path, looking at her in that strange manner she just couldn’t make sense of. The intensity of his icy blue gaze stirred something in her that she dared not explore any further.)

This only changed after she got to know him better, after being sent on a mission together with their respective masters, and the two started to develop a friendship, growing close.

~*~

After she and Dagan got to know each other better over time, she also learned about his past – something that left a lasting impression on her, and kept on preying on her mind.

As a feeling being, she could not help but be deeply affected by what she had learned.

As an aspiring scientist, she was sickened to the core in light of this callous disregard for life, and the abject cruelty with which these people were treated in the name of science. The blatant abuse of this otherwise noble discipline infuriated her beyond all measure.

Soon after, she spent many hours in the archives, learning as much as she could about Arkanian culture, history, and their scientific projects – of which the genetical engineering of the offshoot subspecies commanded the major part of her attention.

Aside from the shock and outrage she felt, there was a growing unease building up, as well as the undeniable emergence of another feeling – a growing concern that kept on spreading inside her and left her no peace of mind – linked to the man who had by then grown to become a dear friend of hers. The man whose intense gaze had woven its silver chains deep within the fabric of her soul, inextricably entangled – the man she could not bear to lose.

In the time to come, she immersed herself into her research, desperate determination leading her on, in her quest to find something, anything, to undo some of the damage, the worst part at least, the genetic tampering had inflicted upon its victims’ physical structure – the weakened immune system, responsible for the shortened lifespan and often premature death that afflicted Dagan’s kind.

It would become her first major research project, although one of a more private nature.

At some point, when she was confident enough to reveal what she had been working on, she called on Dagan to visit her in her laboratory, to tell him about her plans which still required testing on a living subject. Despite her optimism regarding the progress of her project, she was afraid of what his reaction might be, and whether they might still be on good terms once he knew.

He heard her out, unease written across his face at the mention of a potential gene-modifying drug, but quickly regained his composure, not willing to let the past cloud his judgement.

Did he not trust this woman with his life? Did he not trust her unparalleled brilliance, her benevolence, and judgement?

He only knew he would do anything for her, endure anything for her, accept anything from her, and so he surrendered himself to her capable hands. She was the one he trusted most!

Her relief was palpable when it became apparent that her experiment proved to be a success.

[ If there is anyone who could pull this off - it’s definitely her. After all she’s this genius of a woman, whose inventions inspire others with awe even 200 years later. So, of course she would be able to do this.

And concerning him – wouldn’t it be the ultimate proof of his love and faith in her, that he, coming from a genetically raped people, trusts her with a procedure like this!? ]

~*~

When Dagan was put in the bacta tanc, she was 28 years old (she's 2 years younger than him).

~*~

Part II can be found here.

#please be nice #if you like it - then that is great - even if you only like some parts #and if you don't - please keep that to yourself ok!?#dagan gera #jedi knight #santari khri #jedi master #high rebublic era #star wars #jedi survivor #headcanon #otp #dagan/santari #santari/dagan

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ollieoliver910 · 3 months

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Doctor Strange In The Multiverse Of Madness (A Reworking of an Abominable Script.)

Does anyone remember this fan poster from, idk, four of five years ago? Yeah, this was the movie I thought we were getting, but didn't get. Someone hunt down this person for false advertising! Haha, haha, ha, ha...

Anyways, I was doing some thinking about how M.O.M could have been rewritten differently and I thought I would share my ideas with you. If anyone is down to give this a read through, I would love your feedback so that I can also better my own writing skills when it comes to building character development. So yeah, don't be afraid to send a message, I would love to hear from you!

Just a fair warning to those who are reading this. I am writing the proposal to what this script could have been at 10PM at night. I have no idea why I decide to work on my projects late. I guess that's the time I am able to get my thoughts out. So if there are typos or if anything feels like it doesn't read correctly or make sense. I will be sure to comb through this post again tomorrow.

With that out of the way, here is what I would have proposed for M.O.M.

In the comics (from the ones I was able to read) Strange has had a side job as a detective/paranormal investigator involving creatures invading his world. This is something I would have introduced immediately in the film as it would give Strange more depth when it comes to how he lives his life daily on a regular basis (which we have seen very little of.)

The next thing I would change is America Chavez. Not the dynamic however. I think Strange having a Tony/Peter dynamic would be a really good thing for him...but since Strange erased everyones memories of Peter. It would be kind of tough to do that. However, I do play with the idea of Peter coming back into the story later. Instead of a young America Chavez...how about a young Rogue from the X Men? If you do this, you can set up the X Men movies, have Strange be a mentor or a father figure to her, AND you can heavily play up the idea that Rogue is mistreated by society and Strange is one of the few people willing to accept her. I don't remember EXACTLY, but I THINK there was a Doctor Strange comic a while back that played with the idea of him training students who weren't able to understand their powers. I almost like the idea of the Sanctum Sanctorum being like a safe haven for mutants or other characters with powers that were mistreated by society. This is a very surface level description (I think) of what I am trying to describe. The point is the character that Strange starts to become close with didn't have to be Chavez, it could have been someone fans haven't seen in years and connect THAT character to future films. Now with that being said...

You don't need Chavez to hop through dimensions because the god damn sling rings exist which ALREADY DO THAT. I however, DO think exploring the idea of hopping between dimensions is a must, but it needs to be done it good taste. I will admit that I have a very basic level understanding of how dimension hopping works in the MCU outside the information that was given to me by their own films, but I believe if you build the relationships right, especially between Strange and Rogue, you can make hopping through dimensions not only suspenseful, but with the right plot, you can heighten that tension as well. Here is how I would do that.

For the third act, I would have Rogue be taken by Mephisto and write their dynamic in a "well if you don't belong there, perhaps you belong here" kind of way (again, I'm writing this at very surface level cause it's late.) This would prompt Strange to start hopping through dimensions in order to search for her. I also think the conversation between him and Mephisto and how there are people on Earth that accept Rogue already would be a really interesting conversation to have. Obviously, I think Mephisto would be full of shit and try to use her powers for his own personal gain...or maybe he would sympathize with her (I haven't read enough Doctor Strange comics with Mephisto in it to know if this would bastardize the character, but giving him some semblance of sympathy would be an interesting idea I think.)

Now instead of adding...sigh...the illuminati. I personally would rather have pushed Peter Parker back into the story so that Strange and Peter can rebuild their relationship that was erased from No Way Home. There are a lot of ways you can go about this that I feel could really engage audiences. I personally like the idea of Peter biting off more then he can chew when it came to stopping criminals. So when he is seriously injured and (funnily enough because the No Way Home writers shot themselves in the foot because of this) he can't go to the hospital because no one can identify him (since no one remembers him). Peter instead goes to Strange for help and has to try to jog his memory about why he forgot him.

Ok, I'm starting to get really tired now. So, I'm going to try to wrap some of these last points up.

I haven't figured out what to do with Wong quite yet. I almost kind of want him to lean more heavily into his comedic side, though admittedly, I think he wasn't like that in the comics. I would probably write him to be the guy Strange would go to for a second opinion (as I think should of been the case already in M.O.M, which it's not) and try to get Strange and Wong to banter a lot more since Benedict and...Benedict (hysterical) have really good chemistry. This is something I would try to expand on a lot more.

As for Wanda, my instinct would be NOT to make her a villain, and instead have her train under Doctor Strange like she did in the comics. If she ever became a villain, I would have wanted that to be waaaay later down the line of movies as I felt she still had a lot of growing to do with her powers in particular. You can also potentially set up a mother daughter relationship with Rouge since they BOTH are associated with the X Men in the comics and you can tie this to those films later down the line. That's what I would do with Wanda anyway.

I would have dropped Christine entirely with M.O.M as I felt she served her purpose in the first movie and there was really no where else for her to go character wise. Especially since it seems she will not be present for any other film later down the line.

Introducing Clea half way into the film when they have to start searching for Rouge can also be a good idea. She could be almost like a tour guide for Strange and the others, and to top that off. We can get Clea's backstory about the strained relationship between her and her father (I actually think Mephisto is her father, though I don't remember off hand. I will look into that another day, but if he is. That literally adds a whole other layer to this movie that you can explore.)

Alright, I am done.

There is probably a lot more I could go over with this re-write...but I am SUPER tired. So please forgive me as I go rest for the night so that I can look back on this tomorrow.

If you made it all the way through. I salut you, I'll try to write shorter pieces....eventually...

#doctor strange and the multiverse of madness #doctor strange #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #the avengers #avengers age of ultron #avengers civil war #avengers infinity war #avengers endgame #script rewrite #writing #creative writing #film #film writing

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tobiasdrake · 5 months

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The Disappearance of Nagato Yuki-chan, Episode 15 - His Uncertainty

Looks like things are wrapping up now. Two episodes left to the end.

We have arrived at Yuki's equivalent to Eternal Eight. Fortunately, Haruhi does not have the ability to loop time again so Escapist Yuki probably won't be exposed to hundreds of years of repeated time.

At this point, I'm not even surprised that Tsuruya's family owns multiple homes. Crane Shop is basically the Walmart of Haruhi's Japan.

What.

Why.

The prank murder's job was to entertain Haruhi and keep her from inadvertently conjuring a real murder mystery. Those guys weren't even relatives of Itsuki's; They were his colleagues from his Esper organization.

Why would this ever have happened in Yuki World? Cute continuity reference but this makes absolutely no sense.

Kyon's sister trying to pack herself away in his bag is a repeat gag....

Y'know, I was concerned when we spent so much time repeating various beats from the Tanabata episode but this episode's doing a bit of recycling too. Did the show run out of ideas?

Nope, never mind, all good. We are moving right along. TAKE YOUR SWING, RYOKO. AIM WELL. XD

I'm annoyed that Yuki's better at playing ball than I am. She should not be this good.

It's a depth perception thing. I have no depth perception. I'm like 80% convinced it's because I spent all of my formative years staring at 2D screens and it killed my ability to perceive in three dimensions.

So I can't play games like this because a ball in the air moving towards me is stationary to my eyes. I have no idea when it's actually going to reach me. It's terrifying.

I like how Mikuru was scared out of her mind a moment ago but now she clarifies that there are no supernatural spookers involved in the Test of Courage. Everyone's just like,

Group: Level with us, Mikuru. Will there be ghosties? Mikuru: Worse. There will be Tsuruya.

Which is a valid concern.

Mikuru and Tsuruya eat their melons with spoons. You hoity-toity upper-class....

Even Lawful Menace Ryoko is out here chomping down like a normal person but there's those two in the back being all Elegant Noblewoman about it. I guess Crane Shop customs take dining etiquette very seriously.

And we're recycling material from the original series again.

It kinda feels like they had too many episodes left over after the Disappearance arc and needed something to pad the runtime. Like, the main goal here seems to be to wrap up the Yuki/Kyon/Factory Settings love triangle but they're stretching it out by Playing The Hits.

This one in particular, however, is hilarious. Like. The cicada hunt is sending me. Have we not seen enough versions of Eternal Eight already? XD Imagine thinking we needed a ninth take on any part of that event sequence.

Ryoko's swinging her net and getting to participate in the cicada hunt for the first time but I'm over here having PTSD flashbacks.

Ryoko leaping at the first chance she gets to not participate in whatever fresh hell Tsuruya has prepared for the group. And she did it by exploiting inarguable responsibility towards the child in her custody.

You win this round, Lawful Menace.

...

Wow.

Really.

Mikuru was freaked out by fireflies this whole time? That's the scary prank Tsuruya plays on her when they do the test of courage? The existence of fireflies?

*deep breath* What is this character.

Alright, you two. You've got one episode left to figure your shit out. I demand some open and honest communication before Haruhi gets impatient and strangles you both.

#the melancholy of haruhi suzumiya #the disappearance of nagato yuki chan #drake watches haruhi suzumiya

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pot-of-terv · 3 years

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Goodness I almost didn’t finish this in time, I got a horrible migraine yesterday and today the time got away from me because I spent the day with a friend... But here it is!! I wanted to draw more but the writing took longer than I thought and now it’s so late that I should’ve been in bed over an hour ago :_D

THEY FINALLY TALK... a little. But it’s a good beginning.

PuzzleJune 2021, Week Three: Dimension (Rules, Impossible)

It's a comfortable silence. Atem would be content to just stay there, feeling warm and loved, lodged between Yuugi's arms. Perhaps he could even doze off.

But he knows what he said, and he knows Yuugi is now waiting for them to talk. Their mental link through the Puzzle might be gone but maybe there's some kind of a residual connection left, because the feeling of expectation in the air is almost palpable.

"We're both going to get cricks in our backs if we don't move soon," Yuugi interrupts his thoughts. He sounds sleepy and some part of that guilt Atem felt before raises its ugly head.

"I– yeah," Atem mumbles and with obvious reluctance, lets go of Yuugi's waist and sits up. Something must show on his face because Yuugi peers at him curiously.

“I’m sorry for waking you, aibou,” he sighs and offers an apologetic smile. “I know you would’ve liked to sleep longer.”

Yuugi lets out a startled laugh and shakes his head.

“Uh-huh, but you’re way more important than that. You should know that, right?”

Atem is taken aback by the blatant sincerity of those words. It tends to happen a lot around Yuugi, and he’s not sure if he’s ever going to get used to it. On some level though... It feels nice. He chuckles and smiles at Yuugi, this time honestly.

“I guess I should.” He pauses. “Thank you, Yuugi.”

This time it’s his partner’s turn to look surprised. A slight blush climbs onto his cheeks which Atem notes, amused. Even now it’s not exactly a regular occurrence for him to call Yuugi by his name (it feels odd on his tongue – it’s hard to shake the memories of being called with that same name) and he resorts to ‘partner’ more often than not but he has been trying. He has his name now – no reason for him to withhold Yuugi’s own from him.

“I-it’s fine, other me,” Yuugi says and looks away, breaking their eye contact. He looks happy, though, so Atem doesn’t worry about it too much. What he does worry about is the conversation they’re about to have.

He stretches, probably more theatrically than necessary, then shuffles backwards on the bed to lean his back against the wall and snags Yuugi’s pillow to hold under his arms. He feels awkward and clumsy despite his mind having cleared up and he feels that he needs the extra comfort. Yuugi pulls his legs onto the bed and leans against the headrest.

They fall into another silence, yet this is a pondering one. Still not awkward, still not bad – Atem is pretty sure they’re not even able to have awkward silences. It’s a comforting thought and he hugs the pillow in his lap closer to his chest to cover his inappropriately goofy smile.

“We really don’t do this, huh,” Yuugi snickers after a while, breaking the stillness that had fallen over the room like a blanket.

Atem tilts his head on the side to look at him, leaning his cheek on the pillow.

“We really, really don’t,” he answers with an easy grin. Yuugi smiles back and there’s such fondness in his eyes that Atem could very well just drown in those purple depths. He sobers quickly though and his grin falters before vanishing, leaving his mouth in a tight line. He looks into Yuugi’s eyes with a new sharpness and the other boy mirrors his expression as if it’s his second nature (it probably is, considering). This is it.

“I’m so sorry for everything I put you through,” the pharaoh blurts out before he can overthink it. Yuugi looks almost shocked so he barrels on, “I know how greatly you suffered during those weeks leading up to the ceremonial duel. Those feelings were never a secret from me and I’m so, so sorry for not making it right… before it was already too late.”

There’s the familiar feeling of a lump in his throat and he fights to keep his eyes locked into Yuugi’s. He deserves honesty and Atem can’t allow himself to turn away. A shadow casts over Yuugi’s face and he's silent for a moment before speaking.

“I kind of knew. That you knew. I’m not too sure how it made me feel, though,” he says quietly. “Not very good at least, if I’m honest.”

Atem nods. He had presumed as much.

“I thought… I thought you just really wanted to leave. And I couldn’t blame you for it, I mean… you were dead, and the dead deserve their rest. And on top of it, that’s your family and friends you would’ve gotten to see in the Afterlife. Of course, it still hurt me,” Yuugi smiles sadly and lifts his knees to tuck his chin against them. “But I can’t blame you for that.”

“Why not?” Atem asks sharply and sits up straight. He squeezes the pillow against his stomach. “You have every right.”

All of a sudden Yuugi looks a little exasperated and he runs a hand through his hair, breaking their eye contact.

“Because… I don’t work that way?” he offers with a wince.

“Nah, you do,” Atem counters slyly. “You just don’t want to make me feel bad.”

Yuugi’s eyes snap back to his and the answer is written clear as day on his face.

“Well, that’s–! That’s!” he struggles to find the words before he just sighs and his shoulders slump. “Yeah. Okay. I want to blame you for it! But I can’t!”

Atem’s eyebrows rise toward his hairline as he stares at Yuugi in surprise. He opens his mouth to say something but Yuugi is faster.

“I love you too much to be able to.” His cheeks flush crimson and he slaps his hands over his face. “Don’t look at me,” he mutters, “I know that goes without saying but you just had to make me say it!”

Atem is completely speechless. Every direction he thought that this conversation could take them, this one was not what he had expected. Talk about dimensions, he thinks, perhaps a little dazed. Of course, it’s– it’s a given that they love each other–

“No,” Atem interrupts his own thoughts and throwing the pillow to the side, he crawls to Yuugi and kneels next to him. He takes a gentle hold of Yuugi’s right wrist but doesn’t pry the hand away from his face.

“It shouldn’t go without saying. Because we went with things without saying anything, you – and I – got hurt. And that should never happen again.” He takes a deep breath and feels himself smile.

“I love you, Yuugi, and that’s why I thought I had to leave. I thought you’d be happier. I couldn’t let myself be the reason you never got to live your life to the fullest, because if I stayed with you as we were, that’s what would have happened. I thought I knew the rules up until the last second.

“Turns out, I didn’t. I had another choice, a third one… I would have been a fool not to take it because that’s what I had always wanted in the deep recesses of my heart. You remember, right?” He tugs softly on Yuugi’s wrist to try to get him to look at him. “That night you asked me who I was. I told you I wanted to stay with you forever. Those feelings never changed.”

Yuugi lets his hands fall from his face but his eyes are closed tight. There are tears there, forming in the corners, and Atem wants to kiss them away. He doesn’t.

“I–,” Yuugi chokes on his words at first but keeps going, “I remember. I always remembered, but… I guess I stopped believing in it along the way. I didn’t want to hold you back, either. I never wanted to lose you but if it meant that you’d be happy, I’d do anything.”

He finally looks at Atem, eyes wet and shimmering, and laughs, voice thick with emotion.

“We’re such dummies.”

Atem holds out his hand and brushes a single tear off Yuugi’s cheek as it falls, his chest tight and heart fluttering somewhere in between his throat and ribcage. He almost doesn’t dare to talk in fear of his voice breaking... but what would that matter? They’re already laying out their hearts in front of each other, revealing the feelings that they had tried to keep private for reasons that don’t make much sense anymore – if they ever did.

“We are,” the pharaoh smiles and if his lip wobbles then be it. “Aibou… can you promise not to do anything like that anymore, to not… to not keep your feelings concealed for my sake?”

Yuugi takes his hand and squeezes. It makes warmth bloom in Atem’s chest.

“Only if you promise me the same.”

They just look at each other then, searching the other’s eyes. Would they be able to keep such a promise? After all those months of keeping things locked away, of always thinking about what they thought was the best for the other, of never talking things through? They both know it has to change, so… why not start now? They’re finally on the same page and moving forward, they need to keep it that way. Never rushing ahead or falling behind.

Simultaneously they both break into wide smiles and as Atem reaches for Yuugi’s other hand, they speak.

“I promise,” they say at the same time and it surprises neither. They laugh together, free and unburdened, and Atem leans forward to press his forehead against Yuugi’s. Yuugi meets him halfway and seeing the happiness in his eyes that close, Atem feels the prickle of tears in his own. They’re too close to look at each other for long but as they lean away they’re still smiling, still holding hands, tears now on both of their cheeks, and all is right in the world.

Despite everything, they still have each other, and their hearts are lighter. They’re aware that there’s a lot more where that came from but this is a better start than either of them could have hoped for.

They have each other, they have time, and nothing is impossible.

#puzzleshipping #puzzlejune #puzzlejune2021 #puzzledimension #puzzlerules #puzzleimpossible #ygo dm #yugioh #yuugi #atem #tervdraws #tervdrabbles #fanart #fanfic #hello it is time for terv to be very soft once again

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luuurien · 2 years

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Viagra Boys - Cave World

(Dance Punk, Indie Rock, New Rave)

Viagra Boys' third album is an absolutely dreadful listen. As they try to satirize alt-right conspiracism and contemporary indulgences, they lay everything on so thick and make it impossible to be interested in any of these songs. Listening to Sebastian Murphy scream talking points at you doesn't feel clever or funny: it's incredibly draining and makes it impossible for Cave World to be anything but a complete disaster.

My god, was this unpleasant. Look, I've never been the biggest fan of Viagra Boys' whole shtick: their comedic and in-your-face satirization of ultra-macho masculinity on last year's Welfare Jazz was about as irritating as listening to your friend's half-drunk conservative boyfriend talk for 40 minutes straight, and they've never been sharp enough songwriters to make their edgy songwriting stick with a good hook or catchy melody - I'm not sure if I'll ever understand what attracts people to them even in the slightest. But they've always had a good song here or there, where their intense instrumentals mesh well with subtler and heartier songwriting, tracks like Secret Canine Agent or Creatures that make for some of the best in their discography; it's not like they've never been able to make a good song in the past. What stuns me about Cave World, then, is just how much of a failure it is on every level: Sebastian Murphy as a performer is irritating and often flat-out unpleasant to listen to, the instrumentals range from decent to one-dimension and cruddy, and the songwriting is some of the worst I've seen in years. There is little that is charismatic or redeemable about Cave World, its attempts at satirizing the alt-right so weak and unclever that it's more akin to scrolling through a nerdy Reddit comment section than anything else. I cannot stand listening to Cave World in its entirety again. The problem with Cave World's songwriting isn't just that it's bad: it's that it's so upfront and takes so much presence in the music that its shortcomings are impossible to avoid. When Sebastian Murphy is screaming in his rough, scratchy voice about how "things would play out much different / Back in the time that we were apes" on Troglodyte or gasping with theatrical drama about vaccine conspiracies on Creepy Crawlers, his one-dimensional songwriting is better fit for a bland late night show comedy skit, so unwitty and lacking in depth that I can't imagine anyone not in on the joke being able to latch onto anything Viagra Boys are talking about here. It's also a bit bothersome to me how uninteresting a muse they find in the wild world of the alt-right: sure, it's a dangerous community whose surreal and childish views about the world have caused real-life harm in the past, they deserve all the shame in the world, but they're not interesting to sing about in the slightest. We all know toxic masculinity is bad, Murphy singing "I'm a big boy, baby, and I need something makes a dude feel real" doesn't say anything new or interesting about it; it's insufferable watching him give the most surface-level comedic impression of vaccine conspiracists on Creepy Crawlers as he name-drops adrenochrome and microchips - will these songs even be worth talking about in a year? Five years? Ten years? Nothing about Cave World feels like it was designed for longevity, the kind of album you send to your friends to say "isn't it wild they made a song called Return to Monke?" and forget about it the morning after. Instrumentally they're nothing to write home about either: they've got energy, I guess, but each song is so long and repetitive that it gets grating unfathomably quick. The two tracks I most enjoyed off the album, Baby Criminal and Ain't No Thief, go for speedier and harsher sounds that push Viagra Boys to the max and bring out some more developed songwriting from the band, but otherwise Cave World is filled with songs that either barely move past their initial groove or stick to a more midtempo sound that drags like a slug treading its way through an oil spill. Punk Rock Loser's limp guitars and basic drum groove go on for an agonizing four minutes, one of the sleepiest and nondescript indie rock songs in years, and with the following blunder of Creepy Crawlers and mushy centerpiece The Cognitive Trade-Off Hypothesis with its shaky falsettos and lifeless instrumentation, it's hard to call Cave World engaging on even the most basic musical aspects. It's also their cleanest sounding record to date, which oddly ends up a detriment to the album as it loses that grit that at least made for some interesting textural qualities on Welfare Jazz and their debut, the underwritten ADD and toothless Return to Monke so polished that Viagra Boys lose any sense of personality and wit in their instrumentals, Cave World never able to go any deeper than surface level. I can't for the life of me understand where the appeal of Cave World lies in the slightest: isn't there more than enough energetic, punky indie rock out there that isn't this unbearable? Cave World did not grow on me once on repeat listens; it only got more abrasive and frustrating. When piss-poor songwriting, half-decent production, and nauseating vocal performances combine into the sludgy, meme-laden mess that is Cave World, there's next to nothing I can say about it apart from how much I never want to step foot near this album again. It's boring, lacks any unique perspective on any of the issues it talks about, and is unable to bring anything more than surface-level jabs at ideas and ideologies the general public already has a distaste for. Punk is an upfront genre, but it's also a smart genre: its best artists know how to balance political rhetoric and straightforward narratives with songwriting that is energetic and personable, tackling real-world issues through their music with musical dexterity and lyrical wryness. Viagra Boys is not one of those bands, and Cave World is the absolute epitome of why that is the case. It is an obnoxious, loathsome listen that makes your 11-year old neighbor who just discovered IFunny for the first time look like a comedic genius. If there are any positives to Cave World, is that it pinpoints exactly all of my issues with Viagra Boys in one slimy, dreadful package.

#viagra boys #cave world #year0001 #art punk #dance punk #indie rock #new rave #post-punk #punk #rock #synth punk #2022 #1/10

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supercantaloupe · 4 years

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okay yeah actually, i’ll bite. i’ve got some of my own thoughts about the unsleeping city and cultural representation and i’m gonna make a post about them now, i guess. i’ll put it under a cut though because this post is gonna be long.

i wanna start by saying i love dimension 20 and i really really enjoy the unsleeping city. i look forward to watching new episodes every week, and getting hooked on d20 as a whole last summer really helped pull me out of a pandemic depression, and i’m grateful to have this cool show to be excited about and interested in and to have met so many cool people to talk about it with.

that being said, however, i think there is a risk run in representing any group of people/their culture when you have the kind of setting that tuc has. by which i mean, tuc is set in a real world with real people and real human cultures in it. unlike fantasy high or a crown of candy where everything is made up (even if rooted in real-world cultures), tuc is explicitly rooted in reality, and all of its diversity -- both the ups and downs that go with it. and especially set in new york of all places, one of the most densely, diversely populated cities on earth. the cast is 7 people; it’s great that those 7 people come from a variety of backgrounds and identities and all bring their own unique perspectives to the table, and it’s great that those people and the entire crew are generally conscious of themselves and desire to tell stories/represent perspectives ethically. but you simply cannot authentically represent every culture or every perspective in the world (or even just in a city) when your cast is 7 people. it’s an impossible task. this is inherent to the setting, and acknowledged by the cast, and by brennan especially, who has been on record saying how one of the exciting aspects of doing a campaign set in nyc is its diversity, the fact that no two new yorkers have the same perspective of new york. i think that’s a good thing -- but it does have its challenges too, clearly.

i’m not going to go into detail on the question of whether or not tuc’s presentation of asian and asian american culture is appropriative/offensive or not. first of all, i don’t feel like it’s 100% fair to judge the show completely yet, since it’s a prerecorded season and currently airing midseason, so i don’t yet know how things wrap up. secondly, i’m not asian or asian american. i can have my own opinions on that content in the show, but i think it’s worth more to hear actual asian and asian american voices on this specific aspect of the show. having an asian american cast member doesn’t automatically absolve the show of any criticisms with regard to asian american cultural representation/appropriation, whether those criticisms are made by dozens of viewers or only a handful of them. regardless, i don’t think it’s my place as someone who is not asian to speak with any authority on that issue, and i know for a fact that there are asian american viewers sharing their own opinions. their thoughts in this instance hold more water than mine, i think.

what i will comment on in more depth, though, is a personal frustration with tuc. i’m jewish; i’ve never really been shy about that fact on my page here. i’m not from new york, but i visit a few times a year (or i did before covid anyway, lol), and i have some family from nyc. nyc, to me, is a jewish city. and for good reason, since it’s home to one of the largest jewish populations of the country, and even the world, and aspects of jewish culture (including culinary, like bagels and pastrami, and linguistic, like the common use of yiddish words and phrases in english colloquial speech) are prevalent and celebrated among jews and goyim alike. when i think of nyc, i think of a jewish city; that’s not everybody’s new york, but that’s my new york, and thats plenty of other people’s new york too. so i do find myself slightly disappointed or frustrated in tuc for its, in my opinion, rather stark lack of jewish representation.

now, i’m not saying that one of the PCs should have been jewish, full stop. i love to headcanon iga as jewish even though canon does not support that interpretation, and i’m fine with that. she’s not my character. it’s possible that simply no one thought of playing a jewish character, i dunno. but also, and i can’t be sure about this, i’m willing to bet that none of the players really wanted to play a jewish character because they didn’t want to play a character of a marginalized culture they dont belong to in the interest of avoiding stereotyping or offensive representation/cultural appropriation. (i don’t know if any of the cast members are jewish, but i’m assuming not.) and the concern there is certainly appreciated; there’s not a ton of mainstream jewish rep out there, and often what we get is either “unlikeable overly conservative hassidic jew” or “jokes about their bar mitzvah/one-off joke about hanukkah and then their jewishness is never mentioned ever again,” which sucks. it would be really cool to see some more good casual jewish rep in a well-rounded, three-dimensional character in the main cast of a show! even if there are a couple of stumbles along the way -- nobody is perfect and no two jews have the same level of knowledge, dedication, and adherence to their culture.

but at the same time, i look at characters like iga and i really do long for a jewish character to be there. siobhan isn’t polish, yet she’s playing a characters whose identity as a polish immigrant to new york is very central to her story and arc. and part of me wonders why we can’t have the same for a jewish character. if not a PC, then why not an NPC? again, i’m jewish, and i am not native, but in my opinion i think the inclusion of jj is wonderful -- i think there are even fewer native main characters in mainstream media than there are jewish ones, and it’s great to see a native character who is both in touch with their culture as well as not being defined solely by their native-ness. to what extent does it count as ‘appropriative’ because brennan is a white dude? i dunno, but i’m like 99% sure they talked to sensitivity consultants to make sure the representation was as ethical as they could get it, and anyway, i can’t personally see and glaring missteps so far. but again, i’m not native, and if there are native viewers with their own opinions on jj, i’d be really interested in hearing them.

but getting back to the relative lack of jewish representation. it just...disappoints me that jewishness in new york is hardly ever even really mentioned? again, i know we’re only just over halfway through season 2, but also, we had a whole first season too. and it’s definitely not all bad. for example: willy! gd, i love willy so much. him being a golem of williamsburg makes me really really happy -- a jewish mythological creature animated from clay/mud (in this case bricks) to protect a jewish community (like that of williamsburg, a center for many of nyc’s jews) from threat. golem have so often been taken out of their original context and turned into evil monsters in fantasy settings, especially including dnd. (even within other seasons of d20! crush in fh being referred to as a “pavement golem” always rubbed me the wrong way, and i had hoped they’d learned better after tuc but in acoc they refer to another monster as a “corn golem” which just disappointed me all over again.) so the fact that tuc gets golems right makes my jewish heart very happy.

and yet...he doesn’t show up that much? sure, in s1, he’s very helpful when he does, but in s2 so far he shows up once and really does not say or do much of anything. he speaks with a lot more yiddish-influenced language than other characters, but if you didn’t know those words were specifically yiddish/jewish, you might not be able to otherwise clock the fact that willy is jewish. and while willy is a jewish mythological creature who is jewish in canon, he isn’t human. there are no other direct references to judaism, jewish characters, or jewish culture in the unsleeping city beyond him.

there are, in fact, two other canon jewish characters in tuc. but...here’s where i feel the most frustration, i think. the two canon jewish humans in tuc are stephen sondheim and robert moses. both of whom are real actual people, so it’s not like we can just pick and choose what their cultural backgrounds are. as much as i love stephen sondheim, i think there are inherent issues with including real world people as characters in a fictional setting, especially if they are from living/recent memory (sondheim is literally still alive), but anyway, sondheim and moses are both actual jewish people. from watching tuc alone you probably would not be able to guess that sondheim is jewish -- nothing from his character except name suggests it, and i wouldn’t even fault you for not thinking ‘sondheim’ is a jewish-sounding surname (and i dislike the idea/attitude/belief that you can tell who is or isn’t jewish by the sound of their name). and yeah, i’m not going to sit here and be like “brennan should have made sondheim more visibly jewish in canon!” because, like, he’s a real human being and it’s fucking weird to portray him in a way that isn’t as close to how he publicly presents himself, which is not in fact very identifiably jewish? i don’t know, this is what i mean by it’s inherently weird and arguably problematic to portray real living people as characters in a fictional setting, but i digress. sondheim’s jewish, even if you wouldn’t know it; not exactly a representation win.

and then there’s bob moses. you might be able to guess that he’s jewish from canon, actually. there’s the name, of course. but more insidious to me are the specifics of his villainy. greedy and powerhungry, a moneyman, a lich whose power is stored in a phylactery...it does kind of all add up to a Yikes from me. (in the stock market fight there’s a one-off line asking if he has green skin; it’s never really directly acknowledged or answered, but it made me really uncomfortable to hear at first and it’s stuck with me since viewing for the first time.) the issue for me here is that the most obviously jewish human character is the season’s bbeg, and his villainy is rooted in very antisemitic tropes and stereotypes.

i know this isn’t all brennan’s fault -- robert moses was a real ass person and he was in fact jewish, a powerhungry and greedy moneyman, a big giant racist asshole, etc. i’m not saying that jewish characters can’t be evil, and i’m not saying brennan should have tried to be like “this is my NPC robert christian he’s just like bob moses but instead he’s a goy so it’s okay” because...that would be fuckin weird bro. and bob moses was a real person who was jewish and really did do some heinous shit with his municipal power. i’m not necessarily saying brennan should have picked/created a different character to be the villain. i’m not even saying that he shouldn’t have made bob moses a lich (although, again, it doesn’t 100% sit right with me). but my point here is that bob moses is one of a grand total of three canon jewish characters in tuc, of which only two humans, of whom he is the one you’d most easily guess would be jewish and is the most influenced by antisemitic stereotypes/tropes. had there been more jewish representation in the show at all, even just some neutral jewish NPCs, this would not be as much of a problem as it is to me. but halfway through season 2, so far, this is literally all we get. and that bums me out.

listen, i really like tuc. i love d20. but the fact that it is set in a real world place with real world people does inherently raise challenges when it comes to ethical cultural representation. especially when the medium of the show is a game whose creatures, lore, and mechanics have been historically rooted in some questionable racial/cultural views. and dnd is making progress to correct some of those misguided views of older sourcebooks by updating them to more equitably reflect real world racial/cultural sensitivities; that’s a good thing! but these seasons, of course, were recorded before that. the game itself has some questionable cultural stuff baked into it, and that is (almost necessarily) going to be brought to the table in a campaign set in a real-world place filled with real-world people of diverse real-world cultures. the cast can have sensitivity consultants and empathy and the best intentions in the world, and they’ll still fuck up from time to time, that’s okay. your mileage may vary on whether or not it’s still worth sticking around with the show (or the fandom) through that. for me, it does not yet outweigh all the things i like about the show, and i’m gonna continue watching it. but it’s still very worth acknowledging that the cast is 7 people who cannot possibly hope to authentically or gracefully represent every culture in nyc. it’s an unfortunate limitation of the medium. yet it’s also still worthwhile to acknowledge and discuss the cultural representation as it is in the show -- both the goods and the bads, the ethically solid and the questionably appropriative -- and even to hold the creators accountable. (decently, though. i’m definitely not advocating anybody cyberbully brennan on twitter or whatever.) the show and its representation is far from perfect, but i also don’t think it ever could be. still, though, it could always be better, and there’s a worthwhile discussion to be had in the wheres, hows, and whys of that.

#sasha reviews #sasha speaks #the unsleeping city #unsleeping city #long post #dimension 20 #gd i stayed up way too late to write this #tuc #the unsleeping city chapter 2 #the unsleeping city 2 #tuc2 #antisemitism

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lonelydiary · 3 years

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Loved your posts ❤💙

If you are still taking prompts, I had this idea, not a sentence but please hear me out.

Lena, out of spite anger reveals Kara's identity. Forcing her to leave Earth/dimension.

Lena being devastated with this decides to move with Kara.

Thank you very much, anon!❤💙 It makes me so happy, knowing that people do enjoy my little silly posts! I know, it's probably late, but life was kinda hectic for me lately, so with a little delay please do accept this little drabble.

***

It's been a few days after her anger took the best of her and she revealed the most important secret of her best friend. A few days after the most devastating expression and radio silence from Kara. A few days after she single-heartedly destroyed her chance to be happy again. Now, her only companions were her loneliness and a bottle of scotch. Why had she done this? Lena didn't know for sure how her rational and kind part was completely shut down and the dark part took over, but she thought making Kara feel the same pain she felt will bring her relief of some kind. But now all that she felt was... numbness and immense guilt. How she could say sorry to Kara now or how she could even look in her eyes after all of this? Suddenly her phone was buzzing.

- Hello?

- Talk to her, before it'll be too late.

- Alex?!

- You heard me, Luthor. Talk to her, or you will

lose her forever. We all will.

And with these words Lena suddenly knew what she has to do.

The ride to Kara's apartment was short, that was expected, because they lived not so far away from each other, but the look of relief and quiet joy, hidden in the depths of Kara's eyes was not what Lena really expected. Did Kara forgive her?

- Lena?

- Kara, I...

- Please, come in, it's rude to keep your guests at the door, I guess.

Lena appreciated Kara's effort for a small talk to not make things more awkward between them, but she was determined.

- Kara, I came to talk to you actually, if you are willing to listen. Lena was extremely nervous about her words, but trying to sound sure.

- I'm listening.

- I don't know where to start... I know this is probably nothing in a grand scheme of things and won't take your pain away, but you must know that I'm sorry. So terribly and profoundly sorry. I shouldn't have take my sorrow and grief to this level and take it all on you. That was so cruel and unfair of me, and now I realized that your secret was not in my right to tell and was very important to you. I've made a terrible mistake and I'm...I'm willing to make anything to make it up to you and maybe once again gain you friendship and be in your life, if you'll let me. So I'm begging you, give me one more chance. Please, Kara? Lena was openly crying now, exposing her soul.

- I forgive you, Lena.

- You... you do?! How could you not hate me?

- I could never hate you - Kara gently wiped off tears from Lena's cheeks with her thumbs - You are far more important for me to do so. Yes, that was unfair from your part, but I was unfair to you too, not telling my secret to my best friend for so long. Now, we're even. Maybe even I deserved it. But maybe, now that it's all out, I could start all over, start a new life, free of such a big responsibility, be only myself in a new place...

- Wait...I don't understand, you're leaving?

- Well, yes, I've decided to live with my mother and my other people on Argo. That's the planet, that is close to Krypton by all parameters. So hopefully it will not be to hard to adjust to me.

- But... but who will protect this city now? We can't...be without our hero. And your friends, Alex? What about them?! Lena was pacing now.

- Well, the DEO will keep this city safe for a very long time, I'm not worried about that. As for Alex and my friends... I will be putting them at a great risk, remaining here, now that everyone knows my identity, so it is a better option for them. And also, they will be visiting Argo regularly, so it's not a big deal.

- But... but what about me?

- I caused you a great pain and I'm sorry for that. And maybe, maybe it will be better for us to be apart. Even for a short time.

- No, you don't understand...Kara, I can't! I...This might sound silly, but may I come with you?

- What? No, Lena, I can't expect something like this from you, you will leave everything behind, all your beautiful work and achievements, L-Corp...

- I don't care!

- But why? Why is it so important to you to come with me?

- Because I care for you! Because I...I love you. I have loved you from our first meeting and never stopped. So please, please Kara, just let me...

- Ok. Kara gently took Lena's hands in her own and smiled at her.

- Ok?

- Yes. Because I love you too, Lena Luthor, more than anything in the world.

And that was the beginning of their first kiss and a life together as a dream, that they both craved for so long.

****

I hope you enjoyed this and thank you again for your ask!💙

#supercorp #lena luthor #kara danvers #anonymous #my work

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dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram · 2 years

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1/2 "I think that the image of Harry as a fantasy boyfriend does weigh heavy on his albums, and creates some dissonance." I always think back to the NYT Popcast episode where they mocked H for sounding like an old divorcee on Two Ghosts. Reviewers often don't want to admit that their appreciation of music stems from the story they tell themselves/are told abt who the artist is. If they understood TG to be abt the heartbreak of loving upclose from afar and mourning a time of greater freedom

2/2 they’d prob be more generous toward H’s music, I’ve seen it when they discuss other artists. Perhaps they wouldn’t be more forgiving of his sound (“pastiche” as they say) but there’d be an emotionally rich and complex story to give it dimension. How can a lyric like “we held darkness in withheld clouds” hold the same weight for s/one who believes H to have gone thru a lot w a partner of 11y and someone who doesn’t. Even “hey you, it’s all good” is incredibly touching to me in that song..

**************

I don't really agree anon - and I think one place I disagree is the idea that reviewers don't want to admit that their understanding of the music is connected to who the artist is. I think one of the strength of reviewers is putting music in context and who an artist is is part of that context.

When I said that the image of Harry as a fantasy boyfriend weighed heavily, I think the emphasis was on the fantasy part. In particular, the idea that Harry is pandering, or deliberately presenting himself as people's fantasies, which he absolutely is doing. I understand Matilda much better (although I like it no more) now I've come to realise that it works entirely on the fantasy level. I think it's the fact that Harry is servicing the fantasy boyfriend audience influences people's understanding of his album, as much as their belief.

I also disagree that Keep Driving's emotional depth depends on believing Harry's in a relationship. (I'm going to leave aside the choking a woman aspect of the song for the purpose of this discussion, but obviously it has a huge impact on how I understand the song). I don't think the song has to refer to a long term relationship for it to resonate - the combination of the minutiae of life, and the determination to keep going through difficult, has other resonances as well.

As I've said before, the more music Harry releases, and the more he very occasionally talks about what a song means to him, the more I'm convinced that he doesn't want people to know what songs means to him and the more I think that any fan who thinks they know what the songs mean for Harry is fooling themselves. Maybe Two Ghosts is about "heartbreak of loving up close from afar and mourning a time of greater freedom". Maybe it's deliberately been written to invoke Taylor Swift. Maybe it's about something nobody has guessed yet. We just don't know.

I suspect none of that would change if he was out. But I think the music he made would change a little, and as his story changed as well there'd be less of a hole at the centre.

#I think that Harry is in a long term relationship #and I think most of the reviewers make good points

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nightsjourney-into-thedreamscape · 3 years

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About my Universe.

The world has changed since the fall of Wiseman. The night dimension returns to it's natural balance between dreams and nightmares. Both have no mass reign of power between them and will clash for right over the dreamer. Nightopia ------------- Nightopia has entered it's golden age of dreams. 12 doors appear in the center of the gateway between the world of dreams and the waking world. Time has began to flow and so does the voices that call out from chips. The doors 12 doors stand before you at the gate. Which door is yours? Which lucid dreamer is behind door color PINK? find out! Nightopians -------- Nightopians finally can flourish once more. The link gauge will keep these buddies from just going extinct. The link gauge is a new fangled machine expresso made It takes chips and flies about to drop them onto nightopians. The presure from wiseman has lifted stress off their life span... yet still hunted for fun. A healthy nightgarden is a happy dream. Owlets --------- - Owl: tutorial on history, dad jokes, retired, sleepy - Latte : knows about creatures. Wants you to find octopaw, Timtams, Dreambies, Blisfulies, Cloudogies, -Frappe: Loves beautiful works of nature will probably scribble it all down. -Macchiato : Documents nightmaren behavior... will help you if you get stuck. -Cappuccino : Collects dream drops, chips, and will keep them on them for storage. -Expresso: Shop keeper of your dreams. you want to will a hat into existence? what about play food, want your outfits from the past back? got it. Christmas, Halloween, valentines day? mmmhmm he's got everything for chips. he's friends with a very special someone who needs chips. Visitors and voices ------- Chips are the voices of dreamers who can only barely reach the night dimension they often chip in their opinions, questions, concepts. (Small questions, thoughts, compliments. ) Sometimes people can fade into the dimension. for very short periods of time. Everyone wants to meet them however dream dimentioners should be patient not to jump on the visitors. (Character interaction (you), Anons being silly) NiGHTS ----------- Playful creature of this dimension with a curious past... Wants to have fun and show you a good time. Desires to befriend you and see your dreams. "Wait a minute but isn't there 15 doors in th-"Lots to explore, secrets, Easter eggs and more. (shenanigan's with other universe characters just for funsies) Has a lot to think about when they're alone... Many burnt bridges. Victories and old friends. Nightmare ----------- A twisted land of fear and the unknown. Bursting with what remaining power Wiseman once absorbed for himself. Fabric and gold and jewels containing his evil essence is still scattered across nightmare ready to strengthen those with it's overwhelming power. Reala -------- Ruler of nightmare. The formal loyal second hand mare of wiseman. Has taken the reins to keep nightmare from collapsing. He needs all the mares he has to upkeep everything, In quest of rebuilding the fallen plains. He needs your ideya willingly or forcefully. He's seen plenty of marens fall to the hands of wiseman. If only his old master knew the fate of Nightmare that he left them in. Wants revenge on NiGHTS. Who knows if they'll ever see eye to eye again on things... First level nightmaren -------------------------- Jackle -------- Proud, loud, and ready to read off your fate. Now is Realas second hand nightmaren. With Realas blessing he's now 100% first level nightmaren after they collected some of wisemans residual power. He's back in buisness to cause the most obscure fear endusing dreams. Bomamba ------------- After searching the depths of nightmare. She was found insane and starving. ... You know what ever happened to her cats....? Skinny bo peep... has lost her kitties... you know at least they're still in her... ...Heart? Donbalon (Wip of new name after re-drawn) ----------- Once as curvy as puffy... now he's just torn up... she tried to sew him back together again... but the look in his eyes now is way scarier than he ever

was. I guess you could say Wiseman still has his nose.... Second level nightmarens ------------------------------ Puffy: Setting up the show behind the scenes. Claws: Beefing with Cerberus. Gotta keep those pups in check. Gilwing: wants to see you again. Gulpo: Hungry and ready for round 2. Girania: Inside sparkles like jewels... but now it's reinforced their stomach. Chamelan: Has learned a few new games. wishes he was as cool as Jackle. Queen bella: Wants to fight on a not lava covered battlefield... watch those fangs. Cerberus: Feed often. Keep nightmaren limbs away from these pups who could make nightmare extinct. Third level Nightmarens ---------------------------- Nice little nightmare. don't you bite. DON'T ALSO EAT THE NIGHTOPIANS. Pesky. carefree nightmares. They are not strong. Easily overcome by simple happy thoughts. Fun to take care of. if you want to let them bite you for food... if not nightopians work just fine... ((I always thought you could keep them alive by them attacking you..))

Selph ------- Being of uneventful nights. Where they came from is.... unknown? Or is it...? Collector of chips. obsessed with visitors... most of the time they're with you... sometimes. they'll let you visit NiGHTS. Maybe Reala. Depends on how lucid you are. They eat the stress from your normal day away. "I am the one who has you most of the dreamtime..." "When we are together there is no memory greater." "Even when you forget me... I'll be here in the clouds of sleep. " "I can only fight off awakers for so long... Perhaps they are fond of you as well." "In-between dream and nightmare, I will always hold you dear."

((... this was before I learned clicking jpg instead of png will murder any drawings quality)) Mepians ---------- Not quite a nightopian... not quite a nightmaren... They're unloved and look to you for knowledge and love. They're fond of their hero too. Awakers ---------- Little blobs that take you back your world. They're harmless. Sometimes visitors have problems with being beloved by too many awakers... They don't like NiGHTS, Reala, Or Selph. Mostly because they take them away ... so they gather in numbers... They just want to see you home safely though... but NiGHTS has a problem with them giving too much attention to certain visitors... it's just not normal for them to wake up so much. Illuvsions ----------- Have you ever had a weird dream about a crush? someone you're just intrested in... Or just even strange romantic feelings about a creature or a thing. It's probably a Illuvsion. They take forms of ones you love are sustained by your feelings. These neutral creatures appear in dreams and you could be happy with them... but finding them in a nightmare... cause major affects on ones psyche.

#nights into dreams #nights journey of dreams #nights jackle #Jackle #Reala #NiGHTS #nights journey into the dreamscape #njitds #njitds au #nightmarens #nightmaren #nights reala #2 purple doors stand away from the gate two strangers stand together then four now 6 will 2 more meet again for another fated love?#1 door stands broken ready to open up to different universes. who will it be...

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thewickedmerman · 3 years

Text

Winx Club - Enchantix

It's finally time for the FINAL transformation (Which is gonna STAY the final transformation)! The fan favorite, ENCHANTIX! I am making some changes both for aesthetic reasons and for character reasons. They will all have the Bloomix wings because those are the best wings out of all of the transformations. I will be doing them in order of who earns their Enchantix.

Layla

Starting off with the BEST fairy! I didn't make too many changes, apart from the makeup, the color, the wings, and the skirt. I made the skirt a flowing high-low skirt that resembled a waterfall and a wave. I still included the straps but made both pink and kept the yellow seaweed looking things. But I also added a transparent pink thing to the skirt to make the front a little longer and to add some dimension to it. Layla has had the colors of her Enchantix outfit change from blue to green in the actual show, which I guess was because of how Bloom earned her Enchantix and they didn't want two of them to be in blue (Even though Layla's color always should've been blue and Bloom's really should've been red). However, I stuck with blue but also made is an aqua shade just like all of her past transformation looks. I also add some painted toenails because I wanted to. I changed her makeup because my girlfriend, who is half-black and is very protective of black females (Particularly full-blooded dark-skinned ones), pointed out that her makeup in her official Enchantix didn't look quite right because the lips were too light. So I used a slightly darker shade to fix that, as well as made her eyeshadow purple instead of green because it just looks better. Also, just wanted to point out the two little white things by her eyes because that is part of her original Enchantix form as well. They look like two little dewdrops. She still earns her Enchantix by using the last bit of sunlight to healing the queen of the mermaids instead of restoring her sight that was stolen by Valtor. Also, apparently the queen is supposed to be her aunt, which I'm guessing is more of an honorable love like family thing because of how the royal family of the merpeople are clearly not black and aren't even the same species as Layla. Anyway, I hope you guys like it.

Stella

Stella's Enchantix went through A LOT of changes. Don't get me wrong, her original Enchantix was gorgeous but I didn't feel like it showed enough of her sun and moon powers. I also wanted to give her a more Greek inspired look and went with her prototype Enchantix hair, which is so gorgeous and suits her and the outfit so much. I still went with her hair being lighter just like with her official Enchantix because I feel it does show her moon powers. I just really love the way she turned out. She still earns her Enchantix by saving her father from a dragon.

Musa

Musa's Enchantix went through A LOT of changes. Her original Enchantix was gorgeous but I felt that it should've ditched the pigtails and had more of an Asian influence to it. I went with her Bloomix hair because it is very Asian influenced, though I just added chopsticks, which was suggested by my girlfriend. I also tried to make her makeup look Asian inspired to just add to the look, which I really love. The blue of the outfit was almost gold but I changed it so that it would match the wings. The outfit is mainly purple, which I have as her signature color, but also made sure there was red because of how it is an important color in Asian culture. I made sure to add a music note on her top because of how she is the fairy of music and it goes with her wings. I really love her look and I'm pretty proud of how she turned out. Musa still earns her Enchantix by refusing to leave Princess Galatea behind and nearly dies protecting her. However, I also have Galatea be Musa's cousin because I'm keeping the 4KIDS canon of Musa being a princess, though one that is the daughter of a prince that denounced his throne. I feel like Musa being royal adds to the story of her parents because of how her mother rejected her classical training and her father rejected his royal title in order to have a career in music. However, they still didn't have much money and that added her mother dying because they couldn't afford the right medical attention. This resulted in her father giving up music forever and deciding to beg his family to let him back into the royal family, in order to keep Musa from struggling like he did and would have the means to have proper medical attention, so he wouldn't lose Musa either. He was let back into the royal family for the sake of Musa. However, her father would not be the one to inherit the throne, which would go to Galatea's father. So this means that Musa isn't just saving the princess of her planet that is a friend, but also saving a family member. I'm just assuming that Galatea is Asian with blonde hair (I mean, Musa has blue hair, so why not?) because her father is shown to look like a Chinese Emperor and the planet of Melody is very Asian influenced. Sorry for rambling.

Flora

I really didn't do any changes to Flora's Enchantix, apart from the Bloomix wings because Flora's Enchantix is perfection. She still earns her Enchantix by saving her little sister, Miele (Yes, I prefer her actual name over her 4KIDS name, Rose).

Tecna

For Tecna's Enchantix I really wanted it to be the most revealing of her fairy outfits (Well, tied with Sirenix) because of how I had her starting to show off more skin for her Believix form and it shows how she's grown and opened herself up to others and let herself be emotional instead of just logical all the time. Just because she isn't skinny it doesn't mean she has to alway be covered up. But I did adjust the length to make it more tasteful (Even though her original Enchantix wasn't distasteful). I also wanted to add some elements from her Bloomix form besides just the wings. I added the technology pattern she had on her leggings because they looked so amazing (But were a pain to do) and gave her that transparent fabric she has in that form. While Tecna's hair has grown in this transformation (Just like with all the girls), I didn't want to make it more than a few inches below the shoulders because her short hair makes her unique. I didn't add sparkles to the armor because I wanted to make clear the difference in material. Since I have her color being green, I did have to mess around with the coloring a bit and I love the way it looks. The way she earns her Enchantix is my favorite of all the girls because she saved not only her home planet, Zenith, but other planets by closing the portal to the Omega Dimension on Andros. That's just a whole new level of sacrifice. She doesn't die and does manage to escape, of course, but the impact of what she did is just a staple in the Winx Club and how much she means to the group and what an awesome character she is.

Bloom

Bloom's Enchantix was one I was VERY excited to do because of the GORGEOUS hair and how I really wanted to make her dress look like fire. This has gone from one of my least favorite Enchantix forms to one of my favorites. Don't get me wrong, her original Enchantix form was gorgeous but really didn't feel like it suited her powers. I did combine this with her Bloomix form because for one, the hair is just GORGEOUS and I really wanted to include the scales from the form. I wanted to have the top also have some flow to it. I especially wanted that with the skirt. I wanted it to appear like actual flames with red, orange, and yellow. I also blended the colors as they transitioned. I added blue-looking flames because of how fire does have a hint of blue to it, which is the hottest color. I decided to make her gloves orange to go with her fire powers and made her jewelry gold to go with her fire powers, as well as purple gems to go with her wings. I gave her a dragon necklace because it looks really badass. I went with a fiery-looking eyeshadow with blue and orange, which was easier to do because of how her hair isn't orange here. As for how she earns her Enchantix, I am NOT having her earn it by that bull crap of it being sheer force of will, which I know that my amazing friend @bellatrixobsessed1 will appreciate VERY much. Also, just so you all know, I'm keeping her birth parents and the entire population of Sparx DEAD! Yes, it's tragic but it's also something that gives Bloom a huge layer of depth. Anyway, what I decided to have happen is that she is on Pyros doing all she was doing in the show and basically trying to cheat to get her Enchantix with the help of Maya. However, Valtor, wanting to destroy Bloom once and for all and knowing that Pyros would be where she was at and that he couldn't enter because of a barrier that kept out dark magic decided to get Bloom to come to him by going to Earth to put her adopted parents in danger. Bloom, deep in meditation learns that her parents are in danger because her sister, Daphne appears to her in a vision to warn her. Bloom in desperation to save her parents begs Maya to help her to Earth. Maya warns her that if she leaves now that she may never be able to earn her Enchantix and that without it, she could die while trying to leave Pryros. Bloom says she doesn't care because Valtor may have taken her birth parents from her but she was NOT going to let him take her adopted parents. Daphne and Maya, reluctantly, use their magic to help Bloom get to Earth through a portal. Traveling through the portal was physically painful for Bloom but she kept on going and refused to give up. She nearly dies but as she arrives to Earth, just as Valtor was about to kill Mike and Vanessa (Bloom's adopted parents), a weakened Bloom with what little strength she had left threw herself in front of them to save their lives. She was close to death but this selfless act saved her life because of how it was what had her earn her Enchantix. Why? Because Faragona said that in order to earn Enchantix, you have to save someone from your home world and make a big sacrifice in the process. Home doesn't mean a place you are born in but rather a place you're loved and have a life. Earth is her home world, so saving her adopted parents allowed her to earn her Enchantix. Bloom, now more powerful than ever was able to fight off Valtor, forcing him to flee. Did you guys like my version of how Bloom earned her Enchantix? Let me know.

My final group picture of the Winx Club in their final forms. This was a lot of fun, a lot of work, and a lot of headaches. I couldn't have done it without the help of my girlfriend, @keeloves, who gave me suggestions and ideas, as well as feedback during the process. Thank you guys so much for liking my stuff, even if you didn't leave comments. I'm really happy to be done with this and I'm grateful for all the love this has been getting. Also, I have the girls flying instead of just standing like I did with their Magic Winx, casual looks, and Believix.

Credit for the bases goes to SelenaEde of DeviantArt

Credit for the wings goes to AstralBlu of DeviantArt

Credit for the backgrounds goes to xKaJot of YouTube & Keerene and SparxGuardian

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heartsofbeskar · 3 years

Text

universe of two

chapter two: the reunion

din djarin x fem!oc

WARNINGS: explicit smut, violence, language

WORDS: 5.3K

EXCERPT: As he examined the wound there — now a barely visible disturbance to the expanse of her skin, though he was experienced enough he must have known what it had originally been — she gripped the fabric around his neck.

“I’m here, Din. I’m fine.”

She waited, with bated breath, for him to say something, say anything — all of the emotions she had felt since the day he’d left felt like they were surging to the surface, threatening to burst through her skin. How can he not be feeling the same?

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Elle wasn’t sure how many days she had spent underground.

Time seemed to pass languidly, flowing like honey, but somehow also running through her fingers faster than she could contain.

The Armourer had told her she’d been asleep for the better part of two days, as her blaster wound had healed. It was a dull ache in her side now, the skin only just noticeably newer than that around it. She brought Elle small ration portions twice a day, but otherwise they passed their time in silence. Elle had so many questions burning in her throat, but she doused them.

The first time she wandered outside the area of the forge, the Mandalorian hadn’t spared her a second glance. Elle took this as permission. She’d removed her shoes earlier so she could soothe the blisters, and the cold stone was bliss on the pads of her feet. The edge of her blaster sat against her back, where it was tucked into her pants.

She emerged into what she guessed was the main tunnel, as its width dwarfed all the other corridors she’d been through. Sunlight filtered through high set windows above, the first Elle had seen since reaching the tunnels. She flinched back when she recognized Stormtrooper boots walking past them, but they took no notice of her standing below.

Stepping forward, her toes met something smooth, metal. A piece of Mandalorian armour, she realized, bending to lick it up. That was when she saw the rest.

A large pile of beskar armour pieces, of every colour and shape. The numerous helmets sat atop the pile sent a shiver through her. Sinking to her knees, not caring about the wet and dirty ground, she set down the piece of metal she had, gingerly reaching for the helmet closest to her.

It was a dull blue, adornments set in above the eye visor, and Elle recognized it as that of the Mandalorian man she’d met at the entrance to the covert. She felt her eyes burn with tears as she ran her fingers over the helmet’s curves and edges.

“Our secrecy was our survival,” came a low voice beside her. Blinking rapidly, Elle saw the Armourer standing silently and stoically, looking at the pile before them.

“Are they all dead?” she whispered. She knew, from all the time she’d spent with Din, none of those warriors would’ve given up this armour willingly. That every single one of them would have rather died than be parted from it. This is the way, Din had murmured softly to her.

“Most,” the Armourer answered shortly. With a heavy sigh, she sank to one knee, closer to Elle’s level now. “I believe a few were able to escape, including Din Djarin, but … the Imperials here have longed for our blood for many years.”

Tears spilled over her eyes now, hitting the helmet she grasped in her hands, breaking up the dust and dirt where they fell. Elle brought a shaking hand to wipe her face.

“I’m sorry,” she said lamely. It didn’t feel like nearly enough, it never did. But it was all she had. “I know … what it’s like. To lose everything you have. Everyone.”

The Armourer nodded, as if this was something she already knew. She reached forward, and Elle thought she might yank the helm from her unworthy hands and scold her for touching such a thing, but instead she gingerly cupped the pendant that hung from her neck.

“This crest … you are of Alderaan?”

Elle nodded, closing her eyes in a vain attempt to stop more tears.

“Then you do know of loss,” the Armourer said quietly. She dropped her hand.

They sat in silence. Elle didn’t know for how long. She could hear a low hum from the forge nearby, the steady drip of water somewhere above them. They sat until Elle’s knees started to numb, until her hands ached where they grasped the cool metal.

“Will you bury them?” she finally asked.

“No,” the Mandalorian said. “It is not safe to stay here. If the Imperials suspect anyone is still in the tunnels, they will return with vengeance.”

“I have nowhere to go,” Elle whispered. She looked back out to the dirt streets beyond the window. The streets she had come to know and love in her time there, the streets she could not imagine abandoning now, even though she knew there was no choice. Despite its rough inhabitants and overseers … it was home. And it was where her Mandalorian came to find her.

The Armourer put a gloved hand under her chin, gently turning her face to look towards her.

“You will go with me,” she said definitively. “And we will find Din Djarin. This is the way.”

—

She knew something was happening, something bad, when the ground shook above them. Elle could feel her heartbeat increasing, breaths coming quicker as she worried they were approaching the tunnels.

“Something’s going on, something different,” she said to the woman who was still forging behind her. Elle had wondered so many times what she was actually making, but knew better than to ask. The Mandalorian woman came up behind her now, placing a gentle hand on her back.

“Indeed,” she agreed. “It is time to go. Take this.”

She pressed something small and cool into Elle’s hands. Opening them, she saw a necklace, a pendant attached shaped like an horned animal that Elle didn’t recognize. She ran her fingers over the cool metal.

“Take the south entrance, it’s unlikely they’re guarding it,” The Armourer continued. “Take your knife, and your blaster. Run as far as you can. If you see any Mandalorian, show them this. It signifies you are under this tribe’s protection.”

Elle shook her head as the older woman’s words sunk in to her. “Wait you— you’re not coming? You said I would go with you, I can’t …”

“I am responsible for this tribe, for this covert. I must stay. I will be with you, with this,” she squeezed her hand around Elle’s where it held the pendant. Her other hand grasped Elle’s face firmly. “You are of Alderaan. You are stronger than leagues of men. You can survive, and you will.”

Elle’s eyes searched the Mandalorian’s visor frantically, as if they could find some emotion displayed there. Looking down at the pendant again, she felt the weight of the truth settle inside her. The Armourer could never have gone with her. She had always known that.

“Okay,” she whispered.

Before she could say anything else, they heard voices from the main tunnel. Elle stiffened, sure that she was too late, that the Imperials were here, and they would kill her.

“Stay here.” The Armourer calmly walked towards the noise, pulling a floating cart behind her.

She returned a few minutes later, though to Elle it felt like a lifetime passed waiting in the forge. When she did, there were multiple figures trailing behind her. Her heart seized in her chest when she recognized the one in front, the chrome expanse across his chest, the sleek curve of the helmet, the wide set of his shoulders — Din.

“Elle,” he breathed out, sounding as much in disbelief as she felt.

Not caring who was watching, Elle rushed towards the chrome man, throwing her arms around his neck, an echo of the last time she’d seen him. When she didn’t know if she would ever see him again. But he was here, he was real and solid under her fingers, where they dug into the fabric of his cowl.

Din said nothing, but grasped her body with an urgency she had never felt from his hands before. She felt dull pain flare where she’d been shot as he tightened his arms around her, but she didn’t care. Her eyes filled with tears again.

When she brought a hand up to the back of his helmet, he grunted, as if he were in pain. She pulled back with a start, hands running over everything she could reach.

“Are you hurt?” she asked, frantic. He unwound his arms from her body, grasping her face between them.

“Elle,” he said again. “I’m alright.” He almost sounded like he didn’t believe that himself, but before Elle could respond, the Armourer spoke from behind her.

“Show me the one whose safety deemed such destruction.”

Din turned from her, leaving one hand clasped on her elbow. An IG-11 droid loomed in the doorway, a burlap sack hanging from its neck.

“This is the one.”

Elle’s breath caught in her throat as she saw a figure stick its head up out of the sack. An impossibly small and green head looked back at them, ears spread comically wide, eyes wide. She saw it and felt it in the same instant, the energy it brought into the room far outpacing its small size.

“This is the one you hunted, then saved?”

She felt Din’s hand tense on her arm for a moment.

“Yes. The one that saved me as well.”

“From the mudhorn?”

Elle couldn’t follow the conversation trajectory well; she was distracted by the little being. It was looking directly at her now, and she felt a warmth spread through her body unlike ever before.

“Yes.”

“It looks helpless.”

Gently, she moved from Din’s hold. The creature — the baby? — watched her intently as she approached.

“It’s injured, but it is not helpless. Its species can move objects with its mind.”

It held out a small hand to her once she stood directly in front of the droid, three short little fingers reaching out. Elle brought her hand, letting it wrap both hands around one of her fingers.

Suddenly, she was no longer in the forge. She was no longer anywhere, the dimension of space stripped away entirely. It was her and this child Din had rescued.

Who are you?

She felt an impossible depth within him. And power … Din was right, he was not helpless. He was extraordinary.

Grogu.

With the name came more fragments that raced past too quickly for her to focus. She tried desperately to pull them back, to bring them together, to make sense of what he was trying to tell her, but she wasn’t strong enough. The pieces slipped away.

I’m sorry. I can’t understand.

“Elle?” Din’s hand on her shoulder pulled her into the present. “We have to go.”

She nodded, a little breathless.

The Armourer addressed the droid. “IG, please guard the outer hallway. A scouting party draws near.”

The droid moved for the first time since entering the forge, taking the sack from around its own body, holding it out for Elle, who was closest. After a moment’s hesitation, she took it, placing it around her own neck. Grogu looked up at her with those wide eyes. She placed a hand gently on his fuzzed head.

The Armourer was handing Din a large rectangular device that Elle didn’t recognize.

“When you have healed, you will begin your drills. Until you know it, it will not listen to your commands.”

“I understand.”

Blaster fire came from the hallway just outside, but was quickly cut off. IG-11 reappeared.

“You are protected,” it said.

The Armourer came to stand beside Elle. “More will come. You must go.”

Elle turned to her, giving one last desperate plea she knew was fruitless. “Come with us.”

The woman shook her head, placing a hand on Elle’s cheek. “My place is here. Restock your munitions. IG, carry the phoenix for Din Djarin until he is well enough to wear it. Now, go! Down to the river and across the plains. Be safe on your journey.”

“Thank you,” Din said. He grasped Elle’s hand, pulling her along behind him and the others. They’d only reached a short distance away when Elle could hear the telltale sounds of a fight, and anxiety bubbled in her chest.

“She is a skilled warrior,” came Din’s voice from beside her. Maker, it was so nice to hear that voice, she thought, even through the modulation.

“I know,” Elle said quietly. She realized she was still clutching the pendant the woman had given her, the edges of the horns biting into her palm. Its weight there was reassuring. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

He looked back at her, and she was sure there would be a sea of emotions in his eyes, could she see them. “I will be.”

That was enough for her.

They suddenly emerged into a much wider tunnel, the widest she’d seen so far, and the heat wafted up to where they stood from a river of lava flowing through the centre.

The man with them — Greef Karga, Elle recognized — nodded. “This is the lava river.”

Elle held back from rolling her eyes.

A very old looking boat sat anchored near the entrance they stood in. Din let go of her hand, nearing the droid that sat at one end of it.

“The ferry droid is fried.”

“Yeah, but if we push the boat out, we can get it to float downstream,” Karga suggested.

Elle neared the vessel. It really did look ancient. “It looks old. Can it handle the heat?”

Karga shrugged, eyes darting around the tunnel. “Anyone have a better idea?”

Din bristled at his response to her, then sighed. “Guess not.”

She watched as they attempted to push the boat from where it was stuck to the stone foundation by a block of cooler lava. Feeling a small tug from below, Elle glanced down to see Grogu reaching for her hand again, his large eyes tilted up to her in concern.

Wrapping her fingers around his tiny hand, she rocked him gently. “It’s okay, little one. He’ll get us out of here.”

Elle wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince the baby, or herself.

The woman who was with them — whose name Elle still did not know — shrugged a rifle off of her back. “You guys mind getting out of the way?”

When they obliged, she shot at the offending rocks, and they promptly broke into a multitude of pieces, the boat creaking as it was freed.

The five of them piled into the boat quickly. The tall droid held out its hand for Elle, all but lifting her by it into the vessel.

“Watch your feet,” it urged. “It’s molten lava.”

“No kidding,” Elle murmured. She swiped her hair to one side, wiping sweat off the back of her neck. She made the mistake of resting her bare hand against the metal side of the boat, and she cursed as if swiftly burned her skin. A red welt spread across her palm.

The boat began moving slowly. Greef Karga gestured excitedly to a halo of light that sat at the far end of the tunnel ahead of them, presumably the exit to the lava flats. “That’s it. We’re free!”

Din moved to stand behind her, resting a hand lightly on Elle’s waist. “No. No, we’re not. Stormtroopers. They’re flanking the mouth of the tunnel. It looks like an entire platoon. They must know we’re coming.”

Elle gripped Din’s hand where it sat on her side, a shiver progressing down her spine.

“Stop the boat.” The woman turned on the droid paddling them along. “Hey, droid, I said stop the boat. Hey, I’m talking to you. I said stop!”

Clearly frustrated, she fired a single shot at the small droid. They didn’t stop moving.

“We’re still moving.” Karga shook his head.

“Looks like we fight,” the woman said.

“There are too many,” Din insisted, his hand tightening on her.

“They will not be satisfied with anything less than the Child.” The IG droid turned to face them. “This is unacceptable. I will eliminate the enemy, and you will escape.”

Din shook his head. “You don’t have that kind of firepower, pal. You wouldn’t even get to daylight.”

“That is not my objective.”

The mouth of the tunnel drew closer.

“I still have the security protocols from my manufacturer. If my designs are compromised, I must self-destruct.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m not permitted to be captured. I must be destroyed.” He handed Din the jetpack from the Armourer. “I can no longer carry this for you. Nor can I watch over the Child.” Grogu gave a curious coo from the satchel.

“Wait. You can’t self-destruct. Your base command is to watch the Child. That supersedes your manufacturer’s protocol, right? Right?” Elle had never heard the man so frantic.

“This is correct.”

“Good. Now grab a blaster and help us shoot our way out.”

“Victory through combat is impossible. We will be captured. The Child will be lost. Sadly, there is no scenario where the Child is saved, in which I survive.”

“Listen, you’re not going anywhere. We need you. Let’s just come up with a—”

Elle turned under his arm, holding his hand and grasping the fabric at his side. She felt tears well in her eyes. “Din, you have to let him go.”

“The girl is correct. Please tell me the Child will be safe in your care. If you do so, I can default to my secondary command.”

“But you’ll be destroyed.”

“And you will live, and I will have served my purpose.”

“No. We need you.”

Tears spilled over onto Elle’s cheeks now, at the emotion in Din’s voice, the tones of pain she had never heard from him. And she knew, she knew, the sacrifice he struggled to accept. She had been there.

She wrapped an arm around his waist, not caring that the others looked on, burying her face in the crook of his neck. Trying to anchor him there.

“There is nothing to be sad about. I have never been alive.”

“I’m not sad.”

“Yes you are. I’m a nurse droid. I have analyzed your voice.”

She turned her face to the side as the IG stepped off the boat. It’s long legs held its upper body out of the lava flow as it stepped ahead of the boat, stopping just short of the entrance.

“Manufacturer’s protocol dictates I cannot be captured. I must be destroyed.”

An explosion shook the tunnel, light flaring from where the IG stood. Elle turned her head quickly back into Din’s chest, placing a hand protectively over Grogu’s small face. Din’s hand came up to the back of her head, fingers tightening in her hair. She could feel it shaking there.

He held on until they reached the end of the tunnel, light flooding over the boat. Elle squinted

into it, noticing the way Din’s hands tightened on his blaster, scanning for Stormtroopers that were left. But there were none — IG had fulfilled his promise. She held onto Grogu’s small hand.

A chill washed over her bones as she heard and then saw the TIE fighter overhead. Elle felt Din’s hand again on the back of her head, this time insistent, pushing her down, just before the small ship opened fire on them.

“He missed!”

“He won’t next time.” Din turned to her, placing a hand on Grogu’s head. “Don’t move.”

Elle nodded, the shots still ringing deep within her eardrums. A subtle pain was blooming above her left eye. Grogu gave a small whimper in her lap, and she wrapped an arm around him reassuringly, holding him tight against her.

She watched, breathless, as Din soared up, up, up, higher into the sky than she thought possible, towards the TIE ship. Like he was an angel from the stories her father used to whisper to her before bed. Elle’s heart seized in her chest when he hooked onto the moving ship, grabbing on to it for Maker knew what reason.

Then he was falling, freely, plummeting back towards the ground, and Elle tried to surge forward, forgetting herself and the child in her arms and everything.

The woman stopped her with a heavy hand on her shoulder. “He’s fine— look, he’s fine.”

Elle rose from the boat, slowly this time. Sure enough, like a phoenix from the flames, he was there, walking towards them again, the TIE in a smoking wreck behind him. A beskar clad beacon of power. Relief washed through her.

She was grasping at him, only half aware of the movements of her feet against the dirt, of her hands on him, of his arms around her.

“Any more Stormtroopers?”

“I think we cleaned up the town. I’m thinking of staying around just to be sure.”

“Elle.” Din’s voice, soft even through his vocoder, pulled her back to the surface. He was looking down at her. “Will you come with me back to the ship?”

She was nodding before he finished his question.

—

Elle watched from the door of the Crest as he knelt before the fresh mound of dirt. The glinting helmet gave away no emotion as he came

to stand in front of her. She gathered his hands in hers, thumbs rubbing over the unfamiliar leather that covered them. She missed his skin.

“I’m sorry about your friend,” she said quietly. He gave a heavy sigh, saying nothing. She figured he probably didn’t know what to say. She brought a hand to the side of his helmet. “I missed you.”

Din covered her hand with his. “I was so afraid that when I came back you’d be …” He let the word dead hang in the air, impossibly heavy between them.

She opened her mouth, unsure of what she would even say, when a small coo from deeper inside the ship drew their attention. Elle smiled as Grogu waddled into the light, eyelids half closed over his large eyes.

“Grogu, are you tired? It’s been a long day.” She gathered him carefully into her arms, rubbing the small patch of hair on his head gently. He closed his eyes, humming contentedly.

“Grogu?” Din asked.

“It’s his name.” She slowly rocked him, bringing him over to the pram that sat in the far corner of his ship. “He told me.”

“How—” Din shook his head as she settled Grogu into the blankets. “You know what? Never mind.”

With a small laugh, Elle turned back to face him, running her hands up his beskar clad chest. His hands went down automatically to encircle her waist, bunching in the fabric there. She flinched slightly as he gripped her still healing skin, and he froze, pulling her tunic up off her stomach.

As he examined the wound there — now a barely visible disturbance to the expanse of her skin, though he was experienced enough he must have known what it had originally been — she gripped the fabric around his neck.

“I’m here, Din. I’m fine.”

His hands pushed gently on her shoulders, guiding her back, further and further into the ship, until the backs of her knees hit against something hard. Glancing behind her, she saw what could only be his cot, and she nodded at his unspoken question, jumping up to sit on the edge of it.

“Close your eyes,” he rasped out.

In the darkness of her eyelids, Elle heard the mechanical grinding of the ramp raising, then a softer hiss and series of metal clanging she was familiar with. He pushed her back again, deeper into the small sleep space, and she was laying down, before a final sound of the cubby’s door sliding shut.

“Okay, you can open them.”

Elle blinked her eyes open, not that it made any difference. The space was pitch black, and she could barely make out the hulking shape of Din hovering above her, stripped of his armour. She was overwhelmed that she was here, and he was here, and they were in his ship.

She couldn’t wait any longer. Surging upwards, she pressed her lips to his, relishing in the feel of his soft skin that she’d feared she would never again touch. But he was tangible and real in arms as they wound around his neck now, as he pressed his mouth insistently against hers, as he swallowed her whole.

His hand ran up her side under the tunic, ghosting over the healing wound, up to the swell of her breast. She groaned into his mouth when he squeezed gently, thumb running over her nipple. His touch felt like a fire she never wanted to extinguish.

He pushed the fabric up and over her head, and her fingers threaded deep into his hair as he came back down to kiss her again. He bit her lip as he pulled back from her lips, trailing his lips down her neck. Elle’s mouth fell open, hooking one of her legs around his hips, grinding against him. He nipped and sucked down to her collarbone, no doubt leaving a trail of marks down her skin.

Her chest was heaving as he kept pressing his lips against her skin, lower and lower, until he reached her waistline. She lifted her hips off the mattress to allow him to slide her pants and underwear down her legs, before flinging them to the side.

Gently he parted her legs, settling himself between them. He continued his short kisses up the insides of her thighs, teasing around where she needed him the most. Elle could feel his warm breath against her. Finally, tortuously, he drew a single finger up through her folds, gathering the wetness there. But too soon he pulled it away, and she whined.

“Din, please.”

“Sorry, just,” he was breathless. “Just wanted to taste you. Tastes as good as I remember— fuck, maybe even better.”

“Why don’t you get a longer drink then?” Elle brought herself up on her elbows, looking down at the dark shape of him between her legs.

He gave a low chuckle, but obliged her, finally bringing his mouth down onto her cunt. His tongue traced up and down her folds, before he came up to suck on the bundle of nerves that shot pure electricity through Elle’s veins. She buried her fingers in his hair again, grasping the curls there, pushing him further against her. Her legs wrapped around his shoulders, heels digging into his back as he continued.

“Maker,” he gasped out, returning his finger to her, pushing it inside now. “Your cunt is so amazing, Elle.”

She laughed, a little deliriously, as he began to pump his finger inside her. His mouth resumed its efforts on her clit, drinking from her like he hadn’t had water in days. His finger hit that soft spot inside of her, and Elle swore she saw the Maker himself in the small bunk.

“Din, more, please I need more,” she cried, bringing a hand up to her own breast, revealing in the sea of sensation churning in her body.

“All you have to do is ask.” And true to his words, he slid one then two more fingers inside her, a hand coming up to her abdomen, anchoring her there. He stretched his fingers inside of her, creating a delicious burn, before hitting her most sensitive spot over and over again.

She needed that anchor now, as the waves of pleasure crashed over her head. She clenched down on his fingers and he withdrew all but one, gently stroking inside her, still sucking on her clit to work her through her orgasm. Elle floated slowly back to shore as she came down.

Elle panted where she laid as she listened to Din shed his own clothes, before settling back between her thighs, hooking one over his hip again. He kissed her softly, lovingly, as he slid his cock inside her. A crest of emotion broke inside of her as she relished in the feel of him, in the connection she had craved since the moment she’d thought she may never see him again.

He rocked his hips into her gently, a forearm resting beside her head. His free hand came to cradle her face as he kissed her.

“Maker, you— Elle, are you crying?”

She nodded, whining quietly, crashing his lips back into hers. Their lips were still brushing against each other as she spoke. “I thought … I didn’t know if you were dead. I thought I’d never see you again.”

He groaned, his head falling into the crook of her neck. “Never. I will never leave you like that, Elle. I promise.”

She held the back of his head, stroking his hair there in time with his strokes into her between her legs. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Din.”

He didn’t reply, placing more open mouthed kisses onto her neck. She clenched around him, and he groaned, the sound vibrating against her skin. The sound of skin on skin filled the small space, impossibly loud. Elle hoped the pram was soundproof.

Din moved his hand from her face down to between their bodies, rubbing circles around and on her clit. “I’m not— shit, I’m not going to last very long. You feel so good, you’re so beautiful.”

“Kiss me,” Elle gasped, grabbing his face, bringing it back to hers. And he kissed her again, drawing the air from her lungs, the soul from her body, melding it together with his.

His lips on hers, his finger on her clit, his cock inside of her — Elle felt herself fall over the edge again, crying out into Din’s mouth as she came again, digging her nails into his broad back.

He followed not far behind, thrusts growing quick and shallow before he groaned, long and low against her face as he came inside of her, warmth spreading from their point of connection.

Din was panting as he lowered himself beside her, gently pulling out. Elle ran her hand up his chest, across the sweat soaked skin, and up over his jaw, running over the stubble there.

He pulled her head into his chest, cradling it under his chin, hand trailing along her bare spine. It left goosebumps in its wake. Elle screwed her eyes shut, not wanting to pierce the delicate skin of the moment they had.

“Din—” she started, after a few long moments of silence. He cut her off.

“You’re staying on Nevarro.”

Elle pulled back, just enough to look up into his face, though she couldn’t make out any features. She wished she could see him now, just to gauge the emotions he felt. Living his life under a helmet, she was sure they would be written across his face like a billboard.

“It’s my home. I want to help make it better.”

She felt him nod, shortly, and she drew her hand around the back of his neck, pulling his forehead down to hers.

“Are you angry?”

He laughed, his warm breath washing over her face. “At you? Never, Elle.”

His hand threaded through her hair gently, and she knew his words were true. She pressed her lips to his, lightly. Her thoughts turned to Grogu.

“Din … he’s special. He’s so special. You have to protect him.”

He nodded, bringing her hand against his cheek. “I will. I promise.”

“And when he’s safe …” Elle’s lips turned upwards into a smile he couldn’t see. “Come back to me.”

When he kissed her again, she could feel he was smiling too.

“I think I already promised you that.”

—

A/N: phew this chapter fought me quite a bit but im happy with how it turned out at least! we’re going to move at a pretty rapid clip through canon season 1 (pretty much contained in this chapter) and season 2 (starting in the next one) hope yall enjoy!! <3

taglist: @pedrostories @thisshipwillsail316

#the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x oc #the mandalorian x original character #din djarin x oc #din djarin x original character #din djarin #star wars #mywriting

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