Leave it to ME to check out "this show people have been talking about" and the people were 15 accounts on Tumblr, 2 deactivated, 5 of them made a post about it three years ago and now I have a new hyperfixation nobody wants to listen to

Most of 11/5/2020 is a blur for me, but I do have one clear memory. It was our first public performance for my high school's production of A Gentleman's Guide to Love and Murder. We were let out of classes early; we had from 12 until 2 to get into costumes and put on makeup. At least one girl was following the election religiously. I was leisurely scrolling tumblr (I had yet to become seriously involved in any community) when the episode aired. Slowly I watched as my dash was filled with "in your orbit" posts chronicling the degression into insanity. We started our performances. I got home at nine. I did not use tumblr for the rest of the day.

The next day was a Friday. I had school in the morning. I didn't see the aftermath of the confession until November 6th, 2020. At the time, I only had a vague notion of what Destiel even was -- my knowledge of Supernatural was limited to the post about God's cousin Phil. I was under the impression that Sam was the older brother. Most of the content I had seen was from Pinterest.

For the rest of the day (and subsequent week), my dash was filled with the same three screencaps. One of them wasn't even from Supernatural (although I wouldn't find that out until much later). All of them preached about love, about triumph, about sadness and defeat.

I don't have a single clear memory about my performance that Thursday, November 5th. But I do remember the excitement, the anticipation, the energy that I haven't been able to channel since. Now, if I were to go back in time to that day with the knowledge I currently possess, I can only assume that it would be even more potent.

The last three years have felt like a lifetime. They also feel like they passed in a blink. My high school won several awards with that show, and others after. I graduated. I got a job, and started university. The world didn't collapse (yet).

I started watching Supernatural in February of 2023, two days after Valentine's Day (or, as Dean would put it, Unattached Drifter Christmas). At first, I just wanted to make fun of it. Understand why so many people were affected by it. I was dead set against Destiel from the start. But sometime in the last ten months, something changed. I got invested. I started care about the characters, about their story. When I focused on their problems, it helped me relax from/work through my own.

Maybe I wasn't truly there for November 5, 2020. But without it, I think I would be in a much different place.

Or maybe not. I could've found another piece of media. Or maybe I didn't truly need it at all. Only God knows that.

What I do know, is that Destiel has affected a lot of lives. Perhaps some for the better. Perhaps some for the worse. In any case, thousands of people have been brought together because, 18 years ago, a TV show aired the first episode of one of the most well-known TV shows in the modern world. 16 years ago, an entire industry revolted for better working conditions, and introduced a character that influenced so much of modern media. 3 years ago, two actors put their hearts and souls into ending a story 15 years in the making, even if the network it belonged to wanted to end a 12 year relationship. All of this led to where we are now.

Maybe I can't remember November 5, 2020 the way others can. But I will always hold on to that one clear memory of the sheer anticipation running through the world.

Happy November 5th.

[06:20]

🎄 Day 11 of the Christmas project🎄

“I’m off to work, honey,” Sunwoo whispered as it was still quite early in the morning. You groaned in your sleep but turned around to lazily wrap your arms around your boyfriend’s neck to drag him closer. “You’re going already?” you tiredly mumbled as he softly giggled, lovingly kissing you on the cheek. ”Sadly I am, but I promise to come home earlier than last night,” he said, his low morning voice still laced with sleep although he woke up an hour ago. “Okay, love you,” you said as you let go of your boyfriend, who gently tamed down your bed hair before pecking your forehead. “I love you too, darling,” he said as he walked out of your shared bedroom, smiling to himself as he heard you turn around and go back to sleep.

Boy, he wished to have you in his arms right now, but work was calling him. He could barely keep his eyes open as the elevator went down, the ‘ding’ of the machine forcing him to wake up and start with his day. You allowed yourself to sleep past your alarm since your body needed some rest after the intense week you’ve just had. You took the morning off until 2 pm because today was a special day; your mission was to pick up Sunwoo’s Christmas present. He has no idea what you were getting him for Christmas, probably expecting some video games or a new bottle of his favourite perfume, but he was so wrong. On the rare occasions where you could spend your evening together, Sunwoo would rest his head on your stomach while scrolling through TikTok, his discovery page filled with cute videos, especially puppies. The number of videos of animals playing around or being cute was unimaginable. Between messages asking him at what time he was coming home and that you missed or loved him, your conversation was him feeding you with puppy content, so this planted an idea in your head. You’d get him one. That sounded like a great idea, plus I’d make you both become more responsible by taking care of an animal, as well as some company when lonely nights hit a little too close to home. Boxer was a dog breed that was quite redundant in the videos that your boyfriend always sent you. You had to admit that they were adorable, and it was getting harder for you not to want this kind of dog.

So before overthinking and reconsidering your decision, you get dressed up and walk out the door, swirling your car keys in hand before unlocking it by a swift click. Rubbing your hands together before setting them on the steering wheel, you let out a happy squeal and started the engine, excitedly driving to your destination. A few weeks ago, on a morning where your tired boyfriend got a day off and was soundly sleeping next to you, you were scrolling on the Internet to check the shelters in the neighbourhood. They all had cute animals, and you would adopt all of them if you could, but still no sign of a puppy that caught your eyes. After calling dozens and dozens of pet shelters, you finally found your sacred place. It was two hours away from where you lived, but you finally found a stray boxer who had given birth to three beautiful puppies. Refusing to buy an animal from a pet store, your task of finding the breed you were looking for was quite hard but ended up being successful.

“Oh hello!” the shelter owner greeted you as you pulled up to the place, locking your car before heading inside with the lady leading the way. “Your little boy is here,” she said as she gestured to a cage, hearing some claws, and yapping on the other side of the fence. You had come there a few days prior, so the little man must have recognised you, excitingly wriggling his small tail as you appeared in sight. “Hi! Hi baby, do you recognise me? What a good boy,” you said in your sweetest voice, the puppy stretching its small body to try and lick your face. You giggled as you avoided his scratchy tongue, gently petting him on the head as you tried to calm him down. Holding him in such a cute way that his little feet dangle in the air, you walked with the owner near the checkout to do some administrative work.

After a few more minutes of chatting with the woman in front of you and walking around the store to make your puppy say goodbye to his friends, you were out of the shelter, unlocking your car as it was trying to eat your dangling earring. “Oh my god, stop!” you laughed as you gently pulled the metal out of your puppy’s mouth, placing him in the little basket you had prepared for him before heading out of your house. He whined as you closed the door, carefully watching you walk around the car to sit in the passenger seat. The journey back home was a bit chaotic, the pup was trying to explore the world now that he was out of his former home. Controlling him while driving wasn’t the safest thing in the world, but you finally made it back home in one piece, with the Christmas gift for your loved one. 

“Alright buddy let me prepare your little home, okay?” you said as you placed him on the floor, him immediately running around and sniffing everything. You hurriedly went to the cellar to get out everything that you had bought for the dog, setting everything between the couch and the wall for the moment, a quiet, discreet spot so Sunwoo wouldn’t see it when he first enters the room. You spent the rest of the afternoon taking care of the new member of the family, whose name you decided to be Choco. It wasn’t the most original thing in the world, but he was as dark as chocolate, the white areas on its body reinforcing the chocolate-milk look. Excitingly standing up when you heard the front door of your apartment open, keys being tossed on the table next to the entrance. Choco wanted to follow you, but you gestured to him to stay at his spot and hurried to the hall.

“Hi babe,” you greeted your boyfriend with a wide smile, wrapping your arms around him as he just took off his jacket. ”Oh, hi love,” he said in a breath before squeezing you tight against him, laying soft kisses on your temple. You unwillingly pulled away from the warm embrace and took Sunwoo’s hand to stop him from moving as he was about to go and rest on the couch.

“What’s up?” he asked with his eyebrows raised. You clutched his hand as you stood in front of him, caressing his chin with a smile. ”There’s your Christmas present in the living room,” you whispered, and his eyes widened even more, him suddenly letting go of your hand. ”But-“ “I know, Christmas is still in more than a week, but it was the only moment I could pick it up to have it on time,” you said, Sunwoo turning around to stare in the direction of the living room. Your little Choco started getting quite impatient of being ignored, so he yapped, the small sound making your boyfriend gasp as he looked at you, his mouth forming a small ‘o’ in excitement.

“No, Y/N. No, you didn’t,” he said, voice filled with hope as you followed him, pacing down the corridor. “Love,” he said in a breath, standing in the doorway, his face showing all the surprise and affection he could have in his body. ”Merry Christmas,” you said with a smile, and his eyes followed the small puppy, who was curiously walking towards the two of you. “Meet Choco,” Sunwoo cooed as he bent over to pick it up, the small creature starting to excitedly smell and lick your boyfriend, the action making your lover laugh. ”Y/N, you’re the best,” Sunwoo muttered as he petted the dog’s head, sneaking his free arm around your waist to draw you closer to him. You snuggled up against his chest, and he pecked the crown of your head, his hand lovingly rubbing your shoulder.

Feeling something wet landing on your hand, you quickly looked down and saw the dog wanting attention as Sunwoo stopped petting it. You gently rubbed its short fur on the head and looked up, only to find your boyfriend smirking at you. “I feel like this little dude is going to steal all the attention from my lovely partner,” giggling at your boyfriend’s words, you took the puppy and placed it down on the couch before walking back to him. You stood on your tiptoes and cupped his cheeks, fervently pressing your lips against his in a long, lingering kiss. Out of instinct, the man wrapped his arms around your waist and deepening the kiss, feeling him smile against your lips. The puppy repeatedly yapped as it was finding the kiss too long, making you both chuckle before pulling away, your boyfriend nestling his head in the crook of your neck.

You internally applauded yourself for choosing such a cute gift for your boyfriend as the evening rolled by. You had just finished eating dinner that you had cooked together, despite Sunwoo being exhausted from his schedule. Resting now on the couch watching TV, the puppy was whining from the leg of the sofa, wanting to be in between the two of you. Your boyfriend was laying on the side with his hand supporting his head, while your hand was lingering in his neck, sometimes caressing the warm skin. Sunwoo took one of the toys that were resting on the coffee table and wriggled it in front of Choco’s face, who barked while stretching its little boy, trying to get it. The little pointy teeth started showing, the puppy desperately trying to reach his source of amusement. You giggled as the puppy whined, only to have your boyfriend picking it up from the floor to place it on your laps. After sniffling your legs to check that it was a safe place, Choco laid down, not caring about the toy anymore as it rested its head on your forearm, eyes closing.

Sunwoo pouted as it preferred your warm legs rather than playing with him, only to have him scooting closer and rest his head against your stomach. You replaced the puppy a bit further on your laps to make space for your boyfriend, hand gently carding through his soft locks as he hummed.

“I can’t wait to raise this puppy with him,” you thought as you brought your attention back to the television, noticing only minutes later that the two boys resting on your body were now dead asleep, one of them snoring, stifling a laugh when you couldn’t tell who it was coming from.

Laura’s Deckerstar Fic Recs (Part 2)

You can find the complete list at my Ao3 Bookmark page.

Disclaimer: These recs have no real ranking and are simply being shared in the order in which I bookmarked them. And just because I say more about some than I do others, does not mean that those fics are “better” or that I like them more.

And There Was Light by ariaadagio

Rating: Mature Status: Complete Word Count: 143062 (21 chapters) Author’s Summary:  When Lucifer Morningstar is found half dead in the desert, Chloe Decker is determined to find out why. The problem is ... not even Lucifer knows the answer. As Chloe's world is flipped upside down by incontrovertible evidence of the divine, Lucifer grapples with feelings of violation and futility. God's meddling has started a chain reaction, but to what end? Deckerstar. Fits with canon through S2.

Rec Notes: A brilliant long fic in which Chloe deals with her introduction to the divine like a BAMF and then helps Lucifer deal with his wing issues. Plenty of angst but plenty of Deckerstar bonding to go with it. A warning though, there is a scene which describes the wing severing process a bit more graphicly than most. It’s definitely not for the faint hearted.

Afterglow by ariaadagio

Rating: Mature Status: Complete Word Count: 32193 (6 chapters) Author’s Summary: Having met Michael Demiurgos twice, now, Chloe has already met him two more times than she’d like. Which is why she's less than thrilled when, literally out of nowhere, he starts soliciting her for information about the human race. But all is not as it seems, and as Chloe and Lucifer face new trials in their deepening relationship, Michael's repeated intrusions become curiouser and curiouser.

Rec Notes: And here we have the sequel to the last rec. Being a lot shorter than its predecessor, it is a lot easier to handle. There is still a bit of angst though, as it features Lucifer dealing with the issue of Chloe’s mortality. Readers should also remember that this fic was written years before Season 5 aired, and that the Michael depicted (who also plays a minor role in the previous fic) is not the same as TV show Michael.

a softer beginning by wolfgang

Rating: Teen Status: Complete Word Count: 64409 (8 chapters) Author’s Summary:  After a terrible injury leaves Lucifer without his memories of his life on earth, his past in hell, or the Fall, it's up to Chloe to piece him back together.

Rec Notes: This is a good fic for anyone who wants to read about what Lucifer was like as Samael but doesn’t actually want to read about his life in Heaven or the Fall. It’s also a great example of the amnesia trope, and deals with all the aspects of it really well.

your body will haunt mine by wolfgang

Rating: Explicit Status: Complete Word Count: 6768 (2 chapters) Author’s Summary: “I have an idea," Chloe says suddenly, sounding grave.

He's only half turned towards her when she's upon him, attacking the buttons of his shirt.

“What are you doing?” he asks, alarmed.

“They never got a good look at us. Who’s going to think twice at a couple having sex in their hotel room?” she asks, backing him up slowly towards the bed.

Lucifer chokes on air. “I’m sorry, I didn't quite get that. It almost sounded like you said, ‘having sex’.”

Rec Notes: A hot little fic about Chloe and Lucifer having to pretend to have sex to avoid being found by the perps they are investigating. The first chapter does not actually contain any sex (just the fake kind) and is probably safe to read if you don’t like explicit smut but are okay with sexual content. For a long time, the fic was a one-shot with only that one chapter, so don’t worry about missing anything plot-wise if you pass on the second chapter (which is mostly just resolution of the sexual tension present in chapter one).

Caging the Devil by Hircine_Taoist

Rating: Mature Status: Complete Word Count: 178399 (54 chapters) Author’s Summary: Instead of flying away with Chloe, the bullets, and thus the cards, fall differently for Lucifer and the Detective. Trapped and fearing for the Detective's life, the Devil threatens to do all he can to send Hell to Cain. Pierce realizes his best chance of living out the rest of his days is to keep Lucifer imprisoned and vulnerable. While their friends desperately search for them, Cain seeks to keep the two locked away. Forever. Keeping a clever detective and the Devil caged, however, is no easy feat. Meanwhile, Chloe and Lucifer are more vulnerable than ever, and forced to face some uncomfortable truths about their relationship while still trying to assure they both survive.

Rec Notes: I love fics where Cain gets to be the villain he had the potential of being, and this is one of the best. It is also one of the rare occurrences where I actually enjoy a non-villain OC. Caretaker (the OC) is prominent in the latter half of the story and the author properly gives us insight into his character without making him the focus of the fic. It’s something I do not see very often, which is why I usually avoid fics with OCs.

Charles Schulz vs Andrew Dobson: What a Blockhead!

There are certain things about Dobson’s behavior and particularly his approach at being a nerd and presenting himself as someone who enjoys the art of storytelling that I have issues with. Issues I want to tackle on in more detail within later entries quite a bit.

One such tendency is, that he mocks directly or indirectly the work and accomplishments of others.

See, if Dobson doesn’t like you as a content creator because he does not like something you work on, he will try to show it. He will make stupid assumptions of you (like how he accused Kojima of being a sexist creep because of Quiet and how he deals with “male gaze” in MGS compared to Death Stranding), half heartedly mock you (look at anything he makes about Ethan Van Sciver) or he will call a piece of work boring and dull based on a minor element instead of overarching problems (calling Batman the character a white supremacist based on the dumb work of only one author).

By doing that he also tries indirectly to insinuate that he is better in some manner, though most of the time it really just shows his own ego and that his pet peeves are rather petty compared to the overall quality of the work he criticizes as well as its flaws.

One such sight of ego boosting while mocking the work of his better is in my opinion to be found in this comic he uploaded sometimes around 2016/17 randomly online.

This comic in my opinion is both laughable and insulting. Why? I will explain soon.

First however I want to clarify that I get that this comic is supposed to be a joke mostly. The old “What others expect, what I expect” thing, where the punchline is supposed to be the discrepancy between the two fractions and what they expect, mostly by making one of the expectations come off as worse than the other. However, I find the punchline to be Charlie Brown (and as such what Dobson seems to see as something he does not want to be favorable compared too) quite insulting. Why, as I said, will be elaborated on sooner.

First, let me just get on the part I find laughable: The fact that Dobson in his own head seems to believe he can be even remotely compared to people like Paul Dinni, Bruce Timm, Greg Weismann, Justin Roiland, Miyazaki, Shigeru Miyamoto and all the other character creators and animators whose creations we see in the first panel.

 Dobson, don’t make me laugh. Putting aside the fact that those people are animators more than cartoonists, what makes you even believe in your wildest dreams you are on the same level as them? The fact you too are an animator, seeing how you graduated from an art school with a degree in that field? I have seen your contributions to the field and honestly, I would expect a bit more. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v0tdWNCrIxo

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ps6PfiUCxHQ

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4PyonOqClf8

 I give you credit, you can animate. Which is more than I can say for myself when it comes to the arts. But when you look what other freelance animators can do online, some of them younger than you and NOT with a degree in animation…

  https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=64&v=FmkAcGz1BJk&feature=emb_title

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=97IfPfjSaDg

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eEUoxQ4qSfs

 Viviepop’s demo reels alone are just gorgeous to look at and more fluid than what I have seen of you. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gFlha-KOKCc

 And it is not just the technical quality, Dobson. It is also just the overall “originality” of your work. Cause this is the thing with those animators hinted on in the first pic and even many, many freelancers/fanartists as well as webcomic creators online: They have a spark of originality in presentation and storytelling that you lack. I will one day go more into detail for that, but here is the most brutal thing I can say at the moment: I know shitty porn fanfictions, that have more plot development and character growth than all of Alex ze Pirate.

Your characters and stories tend to be derivative and you barely take any risks in telling a story. Neither in your fanbased work (like the Miraculous comics) nor your original content (mostly because you take comfort in four panel strips anyway)  and when you have an idea for something on which the basis idea actually sounds good, you screw it up by a lackluster execution. One example I want to give for that, would be this fanart of yours in regard to Steven Universe.  

(I apologize for not getting one in better quality) This pic was something Dobson created around 2015 for Steven Universe. The picture is supposed to show Lapis, trapped under the ocean following the events of the season 1 finale of the show. A very emotional situation if you are aware of why Lapis sacrificed herself and was “banned” to the ocean floor. Short explanation: Fused with Jasper and then took primarily control of the fused being they became (Malachite) by using her water powers to bond it with heavy water chains on the ocean floor, so that Jasper would not hurt Steven anymore.

 How much of that was even an emotional strain on her and her psyche was in one episode of season 2 even a theme, as seen here.

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SK3l8mGNhMg

 I am not even a fan of the show and I get the emotional weight and impact of Lapis actions.

So… why is that not conveyed in the artwork? If you are so talented Dobson, why is none of the strain and despair on the character? The idea of a pic showing Lapis under water, longingly looking up, even in despair is a good basis for a fanart. But the execution lacks any emotional detail. You want to know how I would execute the thing if I had the artistic talent? Make the picture a huge horizontal pic, where we slowly decent from water surface down the ocean. The light getting dimmer. Blue turning into dark. The silhouette of a hand and an arm similar to Malachite’s in the background, trying to travel up, the fingertips barely touching the surface. Heavy chains around the flesh. Symbolic of the fusion trying to break free and cause havoc. And down on the dark bottom, beaten and exhausted Lapis with tears in her eyes and chains all over her body like she is Jacob Marley, desperately trying to keep Malachite at bay for the sake of the only being on earth who ever showed just a little bit of kindness towards her.

 Why can’t we have something like this here, Dobson? If you were even remotely as original as the creators you want to be compared with, I think you could come up with something like that and perhaps even draw it.

But you know, his delusions of being as good as them is one thing. It is even funny.

Pissing over the Peanuts is another. Dobson, what are you trying to hint at?

That people comparing you to Charles Schulz and his creation is in your eyes automatically a sort of insult? That it is something that should at best only be a mockable punchline in a comparison?

Just to clarify a few things: I am NOT much of a fan of Charlie Brown and the Peanuts as a property. As a child, I was just not very entertained by them. Yes, I saw animated movies, episodes and specials of them here and there and my grandparents gave me volumes of them to read, but as a whole I never thought them quite as entertaining than other comics or cartoons I watched. Some parts of Peanuts animation felt to me often times like just dead air (especially parts of Snooby dancing with Woodstuck, as they had no function to move the plots forward) and I really could not stand how some characters treat Charles on a regular basis. I mean, we all agree that Lucy is one of the worst female characters in fiction and that even while we hate Family Guy, this clip likely gave some of us some sort of satisfaction, right?

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mZkJAx8FycI

 But before the Peanuts fan out there go and want my head on a silver platter, let me make one thing clear: I may not like the Peanuts franchise… but I respect it and the man behind it.

 Charles Schulz drew the comic strip from October 1950 till late 1999 (the final strip being finished months before it would be published on February 13 of 2000, one day after he died of colon cancer) , creating a total amount of 17,897 Peanuts’ strips. His work marks a major impact in the nature of newspaper comic strips and inspired many people out there, including Bill Watterson, to create comics or be in the field of animation. His achievements include among other things, that he created what many people consider the first animated Christmas special ever. The names of his creations became nicknames for the Apollo 10 command module and its’ lunar modul. Four of the five Peanuts movies in existence (animated made for tv specials not withstanding now) were written by him. And the fifth was only not by him, because that one came out in 2015, a decade and a half after he died.

And speaking of things Schulz wrote for the Peanuts, let me mention two things. Two things that though I am not a fan of the Peanuts, I have mad respect for existing in the realm of animation. Two animated specials that stuck with me ever since I was eight.

 “What have we learnt, Charlie Brown?” from 1983 and “Why, Charlie Brown, Why?” from 1990.

 In the first special, which functions as a semi sequel to the fourth Peanuts’ movie “Bon Voyage, Charlie Brown”, the characters actually travel across France and after ending up on Omaha Beach and Ypres the special turns into a tribute to the soldiers who fought in World War 1 and 2, elaborating on the sacrifices made during the war by showing actual footage of fights, recordings of Eisenhower and reciting the poem “In Flanders Fields” among other things. Do you know how impactful it is to learn about the world wars as a small kid, by being reminded of the actual sacrifices others made in order for your own grandparents to survive?

 And speaking of grandparents, I lost my grandmother as a child by cancer. So when I saw the second special I mentioned, you can bet it stuck with me. After all, of all the things in the world, the Peanuts addressing the seriousness of cancer by having a story where a friend of Linus is diagnosed with leukemia and we follow the emotional impact it has on Linus and the girl? Again, I may not like the franchise, but I am not ashamed to admit I think the special treats the subject with a lot of respect and dignity while telling a good story. You bet your ass I get a bit teary eyed when the little girl survives her leukemia treatment and finally gets on that swing again. Those two specials alone are more mature than ¾ of the shit Dobson likes to gosh about, including his oh so precious gay space rocks. And just for those things existing I have respect for Schulz, his creation and the impact it had on so many people. As such, Dobson “belittling” the Peanuts, at least for me, is a freaking insult. The only way Dobson could have been even more insulting is if he called Schulz something derogative.  Dobson should be glad if his life’s work in total could even amount to 10% of what Schulz has done and achieved.

 Cause Dobson, you are NOT a Charles Schulz. Schulz served during the second world war on the front, fighting actual Nazis instead of calling idiots on the internet fascists for not liking Star Wars. He had integrity and work ethics that drove him to draw and write over 17.000 strips, while you can not even finish one FREAKING story. He knew how to tackle a mature subject, while you make shitty shipping jokes involving Ladybug and Cat Noir and claim Steven Universe knows how to be about psychological trauma, when it just romanticizes abuse. He may have drawn simplistically, but at least he could tell a joke instead of constantly berating others for not sharing his opinion. He did all of that and more without having graduated from college.

 And what have you done, Andrew Dobson?

If Dobson reads this, there is one thing in my opinion he should take away from more than anything else: That if people compare him to Charles Schulz’s work, that it means a) he should not be ashamed of it and b) they overestimate him.

So......I saw a bunch of reblogs of Jenna Coleman in period clothing on my dash & immediately thought @fictionxlover is at it again but then I looked properly at the post & was shocked it’s you lmao

Lol. I feel like I should explain.

So I recently got a month’s free trial of Britbox over here, and while the catalogue is lacking the stuff I wanted to watch (that’s on US Britbox), I got it regardless to watch some stuff on it and it recommended me ITV’s 2012 miniseries of Titanic, which I haven’t watched since it originally aired back in 2012.

Now all I ever really remembered from the series apart from the Titanic sinking becuase its the Titanic, was that the miniseries had a high budget, high production, Julian Fellowes of Downton Abbey fame and high expectations which it didn’t live up to ratings and critically wise. But also all I ever remembered all these years was Jenna and Glen’s storyline as Annie and Paolo.

Like this was back when Jenna was Jenna-Louise Coleman and the only thing I had seen her in was her short stint as a student in Waterloo Road, I think that was in 2009? 2010?

So anyway, for the nostalgia for Annie and Paolo and how much I loved them in a short time, and also cause I watched a Laurence Fishburne documentary about the behind the scenes of the Titanic (which made me mad at people).

And I decided that when I was gonna watch this I wasn’t gonna get attached because I know what happens to Annie and Paolo (especially Paolo) and I’m like, I’m older now. I’m not gonna cry.

Wrong!

So 14 year old me only cried once, and that was when Spoiler! A lifeboat picks up Paolo and by the time it goes back to the other lifeboats where Annie is, she realises he’s dead and is like “We we’re gonna get married. I hope he knew that. I hope he knew I loved him”.

2021 me was getting chills in episodes 1 and 2, emotional in episode 3, which had most of the Annie/Paolo scenes so it was just the knowledge. And episode 4, I was a wreck. And this time I was crying over different storylines.

So three times I broke down in the episode.

1) When The Irish dad from Steerage manages to find his little girl (she jumped off a lifeboat onto the ship and left her mother and siblings because she’s afraid of the water and the lifeboat splitting) and he tries to open the gate to go up the stairs because he found her by a stairwell, but he can’t. So he’s like here’s what we are going to do. We are gonna sit here and hug and she’s like what about the water, and he’s like don’t worry about the water.

It was just that moment he realised that he can’t get his daughter out. Cause with him being a man, he probably thought there was a good chance he wouldn’t make it but wanted to make sure his fam did. But the realisation his daughter can’t be saved...I mean I don’t know why he couldn’t get out the way he came from but it was still sad.

2) Barnes/Watson. So they are the servants of a first class family. And Barnes has this affection for Watson, it’s like a playground pull her pigtails kind of affection. And it’s how made sure to find her and save her then gave her and letter of his appreciation. And we don’t see his body, the last we see of him is when the Titanic starts sinking and a lot we’re trying to hold on the collapsible that they wasn’t about to turn in time. But we never see him again but we get Watson reading his letter on the lifeboat where it’s revealed to contain his Will which had been witnessed by two passengers and he’s pretty much given everything to her (not much) and that there’s a small cottage for her father to live in and all he asks is that she thinks of him sometimes.

3) Then as you can guess, anytime Paolo appears and then when Annie finds Paolo and it’s too late. Also his brother Mario survives and I loved the brief relationship we see of the Sandrini brothers but Mario didn’t have a subplot, not like Paolo.

I would watch a spin-off around Annie and Paolo where a Londoner and Italian immigrate to America in the early 20th century, trying to make it big and start a new life. They were both such innocent characters, Paolo with his big dreams, wanting a better life while Annie doesn’t have dreams and is content with what she has and makes the best of a situation.

The miniseries as a whole, isn’t the best telling of the Titanic. There are too many characters and subplots going on and it’s all brief. Plus because it’s a Fellowes piece you have Class issue. Like the problem was the First Class stuff was the weakest stuff and that opened the series. The lowest class stuff (The workers, officers, the Irish family and servants of first class) was more interesting.

Also it was how Fellowes decided to tell the story. So the first three episodes tell the same days (From boarding the ship to hitting the iceberg) but from different perspectives, so the first episode focuses on the First class, the second episode is more Second Class (and a bit of steerage) then the third episode is more Steerage.

So because of this method of storytelling to try and be fresh, it kind of doesn’t work because everything is rushed. Because everyone only gets one episode with significant develop and it takes across 4-5 days and it just feels rushed whereas it could have been paced more across the 4 episodes. Like I would have liked more Annie/Paolo. And they don’t feel rushed even though they meet and Paolo proposes cause you feel like he’s an innocent, naive character, like he feels like he knows she is right for him and doesn’t want to waste time. Then Barnes/Watson they have that backstory and is more what’s between the lines with them. But then you have this romance storyline between the fictional Georgiana and the real life Harry Widener and it falls flat and feels rushed as they are sharing love declarations so quickly. While the subplot with the Steerage Irish wife being so cold to this man in Steerage then later on it’s revealed that it’s because she and him have an attraction and feelings and kiss, it feels very left field and I felt zero chemistry. Plus he turns out to be a cop killer on Wanted posters.

Like for that kind of storytelling with only 4 episodes, there are too many characters to follow. Like it would have probably been better to tell the story with every episode covering a day on the Titanic.

I will say this it did feel a bit more real rewatching that I do watching the James Cameron film in recent times. Cause the 1997 film is kinda lost in the epic romance of Jack and Kate and a lot of fictional characters. But the miniseries, I think the romance and drama is more subdued, the only one that felt a bit off for me was the serial killer and wife of an Irish fam falling in love/being attracted to each other. Like the scenes were they try to get passengers off the titanic and the political power plays, the mistakes made by the Titanic crew in dealing with the disaster as well as preparing for its maiden voyage, and the moment the ship starts to go down the water starts hitting the deck, it felt a bit more realistic and less spectacle than the Cameron film.

And I haven’t rewatched Titanic the film recently but I liked how they addressed the actions of some of the real life people like Ismay jumping on a lifeboat last minute to save himself. Molly Brown and the women taking charge of a lifeboat and turning back for more survivors, Lightoller getting passengers on the boat and trying to get women and children first, and also the mistakes made with the first boat not being full. Him being afraid boats might split. Then when the ship sank the men holding on and climbing on top the overturned collapsible. Jack Thayer and this other guy agreeing to jump and swim to a boat as soon as it starts to sink. And then the Duff-Gordon’s (I believe that’s there name) deciding not to go back to look for more survivors and bribing the sailor and all the people on their half-empty lifeboat with £5 each if they don’t go back. The only one I wasn’t big on was Harry Widener’s rushed romance with a fictional character.

Anyway I’ve gone off. I mentioned to Autymn that I started rewatching it and I think she’s never seen it or heard of it despite claiming to be a period hoe and a Jenna stan. I think after episode 2 I was telling her a bit more about my nostalgia for Annie and Paolo or Desdrini as I’m coining it now (It’s either that or Pannie or Sandmond), and how I know it’s not gonna end well. Then by episode 3 I was recapping why was going on cause she lost it at the serial killer cop killer reveal with one of the characters, and then I was wondering if their was gifs, clips or pics on Tumblr because I wanted to explain how cute they were and how pure Paolo was and how he was too innocent to die. And off I went into the rabbit hole sending them to her and also reblogging it.

Now I’ve gone down that rabbit hole, while it’s great to see Jenna thriving in British TV dramas in more leading roles now and not supporting. I can’t watch anything of Glen’s cause most of his stuff is Italian and not on Netflix etc and a lot of his TV roles are more recurring or guest roles. Not much leading etc. Who knows, maybe if the show was a bigger success, more opportunities might have come out of it.

Everything Burns - Chapter 13

Pairing: Ledger Joker X OC

Warnings: Self-harm, cutting, blood, violence, explosions. 

Word count: 4490

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 l Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12

Chapter 13: Star-Crossed Lovers

She woke in her own apartment for the first time in a while and she stretched out in bed almost expecting to feel him next to her, but of course, he was not. She pulled herself out of bed and made her way into the living room, she switched on the TV while she made herself a smoothie before she sat in front of the news.

"Gotham's very own DA has called a press conference today to unmask Batman, we will go live to that conference in just under an hour." Scarlett almost choked on her drink as she watched, the Bat was going to show his true face. Without another sip she ran to get changed she put on her costume and makeup in record time. 

She pushed on her motorcycle helmet as she let the cat out and locked the door behind her before dashing down the stairs to the parking garage, below the apartment block she lived in. She was up to 90 MPH through the streets in no time and arrived at the warehouse no less than 20 minutes later.

She jumped off the bike, and pulled her helmet off as she stormed through the door, The Joker looked up from whatever he was doing and grinned at her.

"Morning Jester," he called happily, grinning brightly at her.

"Dent's called a press conference to unmask the Bat," she exclaimed her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath.

"What?!" he yelled, with a mad laugh.

"They're gonna show it on the TV in the next ten minutes or so, I think," she said as she pulled the remote from one of the goons and began to flip through the channels, she felt Joker's presence come up behind her and she held in the shiver, that threatened to make her swoon at his closeness.

She stopped on the GCN channel and watched as the two new presenters made some kind of lame joke before they went serious and talked a little before the screen showed the inside of a conference building, and a little LIVE icon came up into the corner of the screen.

The stage was empty for a minute before they watched Harvey Dent make his way onto the stage. The Joker shooed a goon from a chair before sitting heavily in front of the tiny old TV. Jester turned up the volume, as she sat on the arm of his chair, and as if by instinct his arm encircled her waist with his hand coming to rest on her thigh.

The crowd on the TV went quiet and Harvey Dent began to speak.

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming" he began and the Joker sat back in his chair a little more.

"I've called this press conference for two reasons. Firstly, to assure the citizens of Gotham that everything that can be done over the Joker killings is being done," said Dent.

The crowd on the television erupted into shouts and heckles.

"Jester, I'm famous," said Joker looking up at her with big eyes and she laughed loudly at him, he simply grinned.

"Secondly, because The Batman has offered to turn himself in." Dent continued. Joker began to jump up and down in his seat excitably.

"But first let's consider the situation. Should we give in to this terrorist's demands?" Dent continued.

"That's not very nice, he's just name-calling now," said Jester and the Joker cackled wildly. She made a mock sad face at him, her bottom lip sticking out.

"Do we really think he's gonna..." Dent said but was cut off as a reporter called out from the crowd but they couldn't see the source of the voice as the camera view stayed on Harvey.

"You'd rather protect an outlaw vigilante than the lives of citizens?" called the voice.

"The Batman is an outlaw. But that's not why we demand he turn himself in, we're doing it because we're scared. We've been happy to let Batman clean up our streets until now" began Dent again.

"Things are worse than ever" shouted a man in the audience and again Harvey stopped.

"Yes, they are. But the night is darkest just before the dawn. And I promise you, the dawn is coming." Dent said and the audience fell quiet, the Joker stopped his bouncing a grin still on his face.

"One day, the Batman will have to answer for the laws he's broken. But to us, not to this madman" said Dent and Jester felt the Joker shifted in his seat next to her. Muttering "No, I'm not" to himself quietly.

"No more dead cops!" shouted a voice on the TV and Jester turned her attention back to the box.

"He should turn himself in!" shouted another voice, a raucous of noise erupted from the rest of the crowd on the TV.

"So be it. Take the Batman into custody," said Dent and the crowd fell silent.

"I am the Batman," declared Dent.

"What!?" Jester exclaimed and The Joker began to hysterically laugh as they watched two cops handcuffed and led Harvey Dent away.

"I thought that may have been the case, the way he threw himself out the window after that girl," said the Joker laughing, his voice higher than ever.

"Right boys, change of plan, we are gonna kill Harvey Dent" shouted The Joker as he stood and began to ready the men and make plans. By the afternoon things were ready he was just waiting for the right moment to attack Dent.

Around 3, Jester had retired to Joker's room, having found his coat she curled up on the bed wrapping his coat around her as she breathed in his scent. She heard the door open but she did not look up her eyes closed as she held the fabric to her face.

"Jester, what are you doing?" he asked and Scarlett sat up.

"Worrying" she admitted holding the coat tighter in her grasp.

"About what?" He asked. She sat up and looked at him with big eyes before she sighed.

"I was just thinking about if something goes wrong, what if Harvey isn't the Bat. I'm just worried about you getting hurt or worse." She said quietly before she flopped back down onto the bed melodramatically.

"I'm not" he cackled and she rolled her eyes. 

"And as for the bat not being Dent, I'm hoping so. Be kinda boring if it really is Dent." Said Joker, as he sat down on the side of the bed and looked down at her.

"I don't want you to get hurt," she said her voice slightly muffled as she held the coat to her face again.

"I'm not planning on it," he said and again she rolled her eyes. She rolled off the bed, leaving the coat there and went to leave. He caught her hand and pulled her round to face him, he pulled her slightly to sit on his lap and she complied.

Delicately she pushed his hair out of his face, and he closed his eyes in contentment. She kissed his lips sweetly before she pulled away.

"Just promise me you will look after yourself, at least try to," she said softly and he opened his eyes.

"I promise," he grunted and she grinned before she kissed him again. He pushed her off his lap like a piece of rubbish and left her in the room alone, taking his coat with him. She headed to the bathroom and caught her reflection in the mirror.

The scar on her eye was almost completely hidden under her grease paints. She was disappointed, she rather liked it. After all, he had given it to her. It was like a gift and a memento of their first night together. She reached a hand up, though it had not completely healed it no longer needed butterfly strips to hold it together. She spied the razor blade on the side of the sink and picked it up in her hand. The blade was cold and she twisted it in her grasp and it reflected the light onto the wall. She lifted it to the bottom of the scar on her eye and without much thought, she dragged the blade down her face. It sliced into her skin like butter and went deeper than she thought it would. The pain was rather refreshing but as the initial pain turned to a strong string she pulled the blade away. The air got to the wound and began to bleed. The blade had ripped parts of her skin so the cut was not entirely straight. It now reached from the bottom of her eyelid of her right eye to the middle of her right cheek. She pushed a tissue to the wound and held it there watching as the blood seeped into the white paper staining it red.

She spotted his reflection in the mirror, she had not even heard him return and she decided not to turn to him.

"Making an improvement?" his voice asked her sarcastically, his face gave away no emotion at all.

"Don't you like it?" she asked and he only shrugged.

"Why did you do it? To be like me?" he asked, a grimace coming to his face. 

"Yes. No. I'm not sure really. I wanted to keep my scar from the other night as a memento of that night, and it was fading so I just thought I'd, I'd bring it back" she said weakly.

"Look at me," he demanded and she turned to him and removed the tissue from her face.

"I rather like it, It suits you, Jester," he said with a grin and she smiled madly. Most people expect this kind of reaction from their boyfriend to their new hairstyle, but to Jester in her twisted mind, this felt no different than a new haircut.

After that she reapplied her face paint, it stung greatly and stuck disgustingly into the wound. She headed downstairs with him, the clown pair split up and Jester headed over to the weapons beach. She began searching for a new knife for her boot.

"Jester I need you" he called a little while later as she was looking over some of the guns on the table and she came to him quickly.

"Come with me," he said as he led her into one of the back rooms of the warehouse. A fat thug sat on a metal table in the middle of an empty room. There was a tray of medical equipment and Scarlett looked to the Joker as he handed her a medical mask. She slipped it on and he grinned at her.

"Kilson, I've decided to do something about those voices in your head," said the Joker turning to the fat man on the table.

"I'm gonna go inside and replace them with bright lights, Like Christmas." said The Joker laughing wildly and Kilson grinned at him.

"Like Christmas," he repeated and The Joker simply laughed, before he lifted a heavy bat from beside him and hit Kilson hard over the head, knocking him out cold.

"So Nurse Jester, I need this," he said, pulling a device up to show her. It was some kind of bomb connected to a mobile phone. There were enough explosives to take down a house and she laughed through her medical mask.

"In this" he continued pointing to the unconscious fat man on the table.

"But I need him to survive long enough to get incarcerated with myself," said The Joker and Jester nodded. Though she didn't fully understand, she trusted the Joker to know what he was doing.

She moved over to Kilson and moved his shirt up, his fat belly wobbling as she did, she pulled on a pair of medical gloves that were left on the tray. The Joker moved round the opposite side of the table to watch. She picked up the scalpel and touched it to Kilson's skin, she had never operated on her own, but how hard could it be.

She dragged the scalpel along the skin and it instantly began to weep red. Her hand slipped slightly causing the cut to not be as straight as she would have liked, but she ignored it as she pulled the skin open. She picked up the device from the side and began to stuff the explosives into the skin of Kilson's abdomen. It made an odd squelching noise as she pushed hard and the explosive finally slipped into the cut she had made, she lay the rest of the device including the phone along the muscle wall. She looked up to the Joker for approval and he shot her a yellow grin.

She pulled the hook needle and thick surgical thread up and began to make X shape stitches along the cut pulling the skin tight around the device.

When she was done she stepped away and inspected her handy work before she pulled off her gloves and mask and threw them onto Kilson's still unconscious body.

"So can I know why that was needed now?" She asked and Joker cackled again.

"I'm gonna go after Harvey, but I'm gonna get caught either after or before I kill him, that bit I haven't decided yet. But once I'm in Gordon's fortress I'm gonna use chubbo here to break out and take Lau with me" said the Joker quickly and Jester nodded.

"Now if I don't kill Dent then that's when the fun starts. One of Gordon's men will pick him up to take him home, except they won't be Gordon's men they will be mine and Dent won't be going home. Neither will his girlfriend and that's where you come in, Jester. I need you to make sure Dent's girl is nice and comfortable in her new residence" he laughed wildly and Jester joined in.

Later he had a call come in that the cops were moving Dent to central holding and quickly the Joker moved the boys out. Leaving Jester with the last few men.

"Right we are playing a waiting game here, one half of you are going for Dent but that may be a way off yet as he's still in an armoured truck heading for central holding. But the boss is hopefully gonna stop that and hand him over to us or he's gonna get picked up by one of Maroni's cops." Jester began turning to the last 5 men that had stayed behind with her.

"So you three head over to where the boss told you to wait, and remember if the boss gets caught, stay out of the way. Then head straight over to Avenue X, at Cicero to await your delivery." Scarlett said splitting the group.

"You two come with me. We are going to Avenue X to check everything is good to go before we head to 250 52nd street to await our delivery" said Jester. Since the carving fiasco, the goons had followed her orders much more easily, and she seemed to have much more control over them.

They followed her out to the van, the goons adorned they masks, before they took off towards Avenue X.

When they arrived she helped check that all the barrels were set up and the phone was working before they jumped back in the van and hurried to 250 52nd street. They passed the fire engine that was a flame to lead the police down onto the lower street and away from air support.

She set up the place before she began her long wait, she sat listening to the police radio, waiting for some kind of sign and praying nothing would go wrong.

"Obstruction ahead, obstruction ahead!" called the police radio Jester sat up in her seat.

"Finally" she cried.

"All units divert down onto Lower Fifth, I repeat, exit down"

"It's really a shame this thing doesn't have a picture" Jester laughed to herself as she laid back down across the front seats to listen to the radio.

"Listen we need back up, we got company" called an anxious voice over the radio and Jester let out a laugh the Joker would have been proud of.

"This is better than the movies" she squealed as the goons gathered around the window of the van to listen.

There was radio silence for a long time after and Jester sat up and hit the radio as though it were playing up, she needed news she needed to know how things were going.

She picked up the long-range walkie talkie and pressed the talk button.

"Hey hey J, how's it going?" she called in cheerily and for a second there was nothing then his voice crackled over the air.

"Bit busy at the minute gorgeous, but we're having fun" she left him alone after that not wanting to distract him at all. But his voice crackled over the air again, not long after.

"Okay rack em up. Rack 'em up, rack 'em up, rack 'em up" she knew he was talking to the three she had sent off earlier to meet up with the helicopter, with his own man driving the swat van it was easy to put the cops where he needed them to be.

"On our way with the girl" called a new voice over the walkie-talkie and Jester sat up excitedly.

It was about 10 minutes after that the two goons turned up with an unconscious Rachel Dawes. The cops had picked her up and delivered her to the goons before they had headed over.

"Get her inside and connected before she wakes up," Jester said as she pocketed the walkie-talkie and headed inside. She supervised as they handcuffed Rachel to the chair before connecting her up to the barrels. Jester turned the phone on and activated the clock on the bomb to Midnight whether anyone was in the chair or not. As she went to leave, Rachel stirred.

Scarlett moved behind her so that Rachel could not see her and waited.

"Where am I?" Rachel stuttered.

"Why does that matter?" Asked Scarlett her voice slightly higher than usual.

"What do you want from me?" Rachel asked frantically, trying to turn her head to see Jester.

"Nothing, really. You are just a part of the game" Jester cackled and Rachel moaned slightly.

"What's gonna happen, what are you talking about, game?" Rachel cried her panic setting in.

"Well on the other end of that phone in front of you is someone you love, but here's the clincher only one of you will survive and we are going to let your friends decide who it will be" Jesters laugh echoed around the room. Rachel screamed in anger and she pulled at the cuffs that bound her to the chair.

"Let me go" she screamed.

"Now that would ruin the game, wouldn't it?" asked Jester laughing again before she left the room, the goons following behind as they locked the door to the room and left.

The 5 of them got back into their vehicles and headed off. Jester headed off in the van to Gotham Police station to wait for The Joker to break out, she kept the goons in the back of the van so they would not become wise to her plan.

She hid around the corner and she waited patiently for news.

"News just in the Jokers has been taken into custody and we go live now to John Pillion, who is at the scene with Gotham's DA Harvey Dent" Came the voice over the radio as Scarlett flipped through the radio stations. Jester cheered from the driver's seat.

"Mr Dent! How does it feel to the biggest hero in Gotham?" called the voice over the radio and Jester sat up a little in her chair.

"No, I'm no hero. Gotham's finest, they're the heroes." Dent's voice came over the airways.

"But you and your office have been working with the Batman all along." stated the presenter John.

"No, but I trusted him to do the right thing," said Dent

"Which was?" came John's voice.

"Saving my ass" replied Dent.

After that, they cut back to the regular news show and Jester jumped from the van. She had abandoned the van down a back road, explosives set to blow it up in 1 minute, to destroy any evidence and the goons in the back. She had told them to wait for her to return, before locking the van with them inside. As she arrived at the police station a few streets away she heard the explosion of the van and the car alarms from the shock wave.

She waited by the back of the station and she spotted the police cars pulling up and the cops dragging a nonchalant looking Joker inside. She wasn't sure how long she would be waiting so she made herself-comfortable, it was gonna be a long night. After a while, she found her way onto the roof and round herself a skylight she could spy through. Inside she could see Gordon's cage, the Joker was sat on his own on a bench only a few other men were in there with him and the rest of the goons were in a cage together. The Joker looked to be completely unfazed by his predicament as he sat, his hand clasped together, they had taken his coat and jacket. Jester was glad to see Kilson was still standing but he was holding his stomach. Though she could not hear what he was staying, she imaged he was moaning about the pain. She was surprised he hadn't passed out or had some kind of shock-induced seizure. She moved her position a little, not wanting to put too much weight on the glass of the skylight.

A little while later The Joker was moved out of the cage into another room to be interrogated. Giving up on her vantage point and not knowing when Kilson would blow she decided to move to a safer location. She couldn't find where the Joker was taken and so waited patiently in the alley behind the station. Something caught her eye and she looked up to see Batman jumping onto the roof she had just been on, before disappearing down the side. She prayed Jack would not be foolish, she did not want the Bat to hurt him too much. She knew Jack wouldn't mind and would most defiantly laugh but the idea of him getting hurt made her stomach churn.

Around 10 minutes later she watched as both the Bat and Gordon rushed out of the police department, and headed in opposite directions Bat in the direction of Dent and the cops to Rachel. She found this odd as Bats, clearly had a soft spot for Rachel so why would he go to Dent, unless he thought he was going to Rachel. She let out a loud Joker-like laugh, he had swapped the addresses.

She was blown off her feet a few minutes later as the entire MCU exploded, the windows being blown out, leaving the building in a smouldering mess. She scrambled to her feet as she rushed around, to the side door of the station. She shot the hinge with the gun she had taken from a goon and kicked in the door. She spotted Joker straight away and coughed loud enough for him to hear. He turned and looked at her with a skin splitting grin on his face.

"There's my Jester" he cooed, his hair looked a little dishevelled as he had been knocked down by the shockwave too, but otherwise he looked relatively undamaged.

She grinned as she began her search through the paperwork on the floor. She stepped over the bodies of injured and unconscious cops. She felt him touch her and she stopped in her tracks as his arms encircled her waist as he purred into her ear. She giggled as he pressed a kiss into her shoulder, some of the goons that had survived the explosion emerged slowly through the door covered in dust. The Joker moved away from her, his fingertips brushing along her softly as they parted and he began his search for Lau.

She pulled the files up on the computer they had made of the Joker and deleted them completely before she smashed up the computer. She made her way into the cells and heard the Joker moving around, she spotted him pick up some keys from the side before he walked over to a cell, Lau sat in the corner of the cell looking very timid.

"Hello there" cooed the Joker, his voice light as though telling a joke. He unlocked the cell door and still, Lau said nothing. The Joker motioned some of his goons over and told them to get Lau in a cop car. Lau didn't scream as much as Jester thought he would as the goons dragged him away. The Joker came up behind her as she was rifling through the police's confiscated stash, pocketing a few guns as she did. He had his coat and jacket in his hand as he looked over her shoulder. His other hand moved to touch the bare skin of her neck. She purred as his hand moved down her back until he was at her bum, he slapped her hard on the arse and she let out a little squeal. He growled at her as he pushed her into the table in front of her with his hips. He leant his head over her shoulder and bit her earlobe sharply, she let out a little giggle and again he growled. He ground his hips into her bum and she pushed back into him.

"Ready when you are boss" came a voice from the door, The Joker stepped away from her and she groaned at the sudden loss of contact. The Joker laughed a dark laugh and she turned to him.

"Come on gorgeous, let's go somewhere we can have a little fun," he said, raising his eyebrows to her and she blushed furiously and nodded like a moron.

They jumped into the back of the cop car that was waiting and it took off at speed. Two other cop cars followed. They rode under blue lights the whole way. She wondered if Gordon had worked it out by now or not. But surely when his officers woke from their little 'nap' they would call it in so it couldn't be long now.

The Joker hung out the window as they raced down the roads and something about his actions turned her on even more. Jester crossed her legs trying to relieve her growing arousal. She laughed when he finally pulled himself back in and he looked at her like she was crazy. She really was but who was he to judge.

--------

Thanks so much for reading, please reblog and like if you enjoyed. 

THAT’S RIGHT BITCH! It’s October and I am still watching and inexplicably blogging about Supernatural - a dinosaur of a television show that’s been on the air longer than most children I know have been alive. 

I know I’m An Old because I don’t think kids these days understand the struggle it was watching television before streaming. We had to wait for episodes. Hell, I don’t think kids these days even really have to wait for seasons. I mean, Voltron premiered on Netflix in 2016, capped off their seasons at 13 episodes a piece and, oh yeah - aired seasons 5 - 8  all in 2018. Was I mad about that? No of course not. Do I also say phrases like “kids these days? Yes, so who even knows if what I think is relevant anymore. 

Alright, so speaking of seasons, last time I looked at pilots and pilot seasons and how the streaming era is changing everything we know about starting a TV show. But once you’ve got your pilot down, now what? 

Not this kind of pilot. Also, based on the prerequisites for demon possession, we’re all agreed this co-pilot’s like, an alcoholic, right?

There’s a rule in TV (sort of) that the first six episodes (some might argue the first season entirely) should be a kind of rehash of the pilot. The pilot sets up your premise and once you’ve got your pilot down, your job as a TV writer is to re-establish that premise over and over again. You’re building your world, you’re writing it’s rules. You’re setting up a template, a formula for how your episodes are gonna play out. This helps your audience get to know the characters, get familiar with your world, get comfortable spending time with them. Essentially, you’re getting your audience to trust the show that they’re going to be tuning in to for at least the next 20-some-odd episodes. 

I’d also argue that this is important so that later, you can break that format later. I’m not saying you should break the trust your audience puts in you, and that’s probably a real fine line of distinction. But if you break your rules right, it can hit the audience with a big emotional sucker punch. Or, it can stand out as a real breakout, tentpole of an episode - I’m thinking specifically about Ghostfacers! In season 3, or Once More, With Feeling, from Buffy. Those episodes work, really work, because they deviate from the formula, but they only work because we know the formula so well.  And these aren’t big changes to the way episodes are done, they’re just shifted ever so slightly that they felt new again.. 

So what is the premise of the first four episodes Supernatural? What’s the formula they set up for the rest of the series? 

Brothers. I said it in my last post, I’ll say it again, Sam and Dean/Jensen Ackles and Jared Jared Padalecki are what makes this show. Full stop. I think we could have gotten 5 seasons out of a show starring two other dudes. I do not think this show could have gotten 15 seasons with two other dudes. So from the pilot through Phantom Traveler, we learn that Sam and Dean have a sh*tty home life - their mother was killed by some mysterious evil thing and their father raised them to be little demon-hunting child soldiers while they look for the killer. Oh yeah, and Sam’s girlfriend died the exact same way which we will never forget because Sam’s gonna have a dream about it almost every episode from here on out. We set up the tension between the brothers - that Sam got to go to college while Dean stayed with their dad like a good boi. We learn that everybody hates each other probably because they are deeply and unhealthily codependent love each other so damn much. 

Next we get the basic rundown of the season arc: 

Dad’s on a hunting trip and he hasn’t been home in a few days. The Winchester brothers are looking for him and by extension, looking for answers as to what killed their mom/Sam’s girlfriend. We also get the basic rundown of every episode: dad is a mysterious and elusive sonuvuabitch, so every episode they go about, say it with me now:

“The family business.” I would also accept “Killing as many evil sons of bitches as I possibly can,” but why can’t I find a gif for it?!? 

Backtracking on this but you know what else gets hecking established with the Winchesters? Sam is the cute one with the people skills and the puppy dog face, so you’d naturally assume that he’s the soft one. No. Not the case. Dean is the Sofffft Boi. The SOFTest boi. Dean wants Sam to talk about his feelings, Dean wants Sam to not keep things bottled up, Dean is the one who desperately wants to keep a hold of his family and also is just deeply broken and traumatized on the inside and oh no, I told myself I wouldn’t do this but I did it anyway. Sorry not sorry. This watch, I’m really picking up on the fact that Dean is, weirdly, the Mom Friend in this first season. Like, he’s basically a Trailer-Trash-Teen-Pregnancy Mom who’ll give you spaghettios five nights a week and a shot of whiskey so you’ll quit yer bitchin’ and go to sleep faster, but he’s the Mom nonetheless. Later in this season and in other seasons, I think you even see him do his dumb-baby-best filling in as the Mom when John went off the deep end. Anyway, I have a lot of feelings and we don’t have time to unpack all of that so I’ll just move on.

RUDE.

Next we set up our Supernatural Bag of Holding - what’s in it? What are the mystical artifacts they use to kill those evil sons of bitches? First up is The Car. Damn, I am not a cars girl, but that 67 Chevy, it does things to me. 

This car has some weird pavlovian trigger for me, it’s not NATURAL. 

The journal. 

John Winchester, you journal the way I imagine a psycho killer journals and I would just really appreciate it if you could be ANY MORE ORGANIZED THAN THIS.

The Trunk Full of Weapons - I love that in these first few episodes (and possibly the rest of the series???) they give this HELLA conspicuous look every time they open the trunk full of weapons. It’s hilarious EVERY TIME.

No, you’re not being obvious at ALL, guys.

The Fake ID’s - from credit cards to impersonating feds, these boys are not afraid to break the law to save some lives and I feel like that’s...that’s the theme of the show maybe? They’re here to save people and they’ll do what they have to to do that? In a world that clearly establishes a dark vs. light/good vs. evil dichotomy, the Winchester make it their job to live in a world of grey? Basically? 

Next on the checklist for this first season of Supernatural - it’s spoopy. *Spoop mileage may vary.* I said it last time, but I’ll say it again: this first season aired at 9:00pm at night. That means it’s primetime stuff for the 18 - 25 year old crowd, but they don’t want to risk some 13 year old watching it and getting too scared before bed. 9:00pm is X Files time slots, Fringe time slots. 9:00pm says you’re gonna get something a little more gruesome and gory and shocking than at 8pm. 8pm is for Friends. Vampire Diaries aired at 8pm its first season. 9pm is for the real adult content (but not too adult because the audience is still mostly children). 

SPOOP!

But yeah, let’s look at the real horror vibe that you get off of these first four episodes. We talked about La Llorona from the first episode - this is a legit ghost that they fight. The kids at the end that literally drag their mom to hell? Pretty spooky stuff. The Wendigo in episode 2 is a literal monster of the week and so for me personally, it’s not that scary, but it is a cannibal monster that eats human flesh. Dead in the Water has vibes from both Jaws and Friday the 13th. Everything from the lighting to the sound design let’s you know this is a horror show, or as horror as you can get on network television. Listen to the scenes just before somebody dies and you get a nice creepy “Come play with me” whisper coming out of the water. I’m a little spooked just thinking about it now. Yes I know I’m a chicken, and I’m OK WITH THAT. And if we go past my season 1 disc 1 into episode 5, Bloody Mary is STILL terrifying and I STILL watched that episode with half my face covered. That’s where I am these days. It’s 2020 and the world is a nightmare but imagining Bloody Mary creepin’ out in my mirror does not need to be a part of it. 

SHE F*CKIN CLIMBS OUT OF THE MIRROR GUYS! I DIDN’T KNOW SHE COULD DO THAT!!!

Then we get Phantom Traveler and our very first case of black-eyed-demonic possession. Watching this episode now, it’s like watching someone’s home movie of their first steps as a baby. They’ve never even done an exorcism before guys! They have to read the exorcism rite out of the journal! It’s so cute!!! Let’s not think too hard about how they got that full sized bottle of holy water past TSA in a post-9/11 world. And try to ignore how poorly these special effects have aged - the smoke from the demon possession?? OMG! THIS EFFECT! I’m pretty sure I could make that effect with my first ever graphic design software on my, like, 2009 mac book pro. So cute and soooo good! I’m gonna leave that CG plane alone, they’re doing their best. 

SO cute and SOOO good!

You want to know what my favorite established staple of Supernatural season 1 is? The extras. LOOKIT these guys - 

Wendigo you have Cory Monteith who later goes on to star in Glee. 

You have Alden Ehrenreich, Debatable Han Solo, doing a lot of face work with very little dialogue. 

You have Gina Holden who is in SO. MANY. Spooky-type things! My personal favs are Blood Ties and Harper’s Island, but she’s in Fringe, she’s in the SAW franchise, she’s in the Final Destination franchise, she was in some deleted scenes on an episode of Teen Wolf! I LOVE seeing Gina Holden, anywhere she pops up. 

And speaking of Harper’s Island, you’ve also got Callum Keith Rennie who played John Wakefield in Harper’s Island, a show that was A+ Great and I highly recommend if you like Agatha Christie and/or murder mysteries. 

Honestly, Rennie looks like he’s about to murder a bitch in this episode of Supernatural, it is not a stretch to believe he’s a psycho killer.

Dead in the Water you’ve got Amy Acker, a regular in Joss Whedon and Whedon-adjacent type shows.

Good LORD, this wardrobe was SO 2000′s WB and it PAINED me.

And finally in Phantom Traveler, you have Jaime Ray Newman who also shows up in a lot of the shows that I like to watch. She was in Eureka, she was in Midnight Texas, both kind of terrible shows that I love because they are terrible, but she was ALSO in Bates Motel and Veronica Mars, which are generally considered to be more quality, so there’s that. 

This still implies that they actually LIT scenes, which is a SURPRISE TO ME. 

Point is, seeing these actors in Supernatural back in the early 2000’s felt like I was seeing the start of their careers. That may or may not have been the case, but as a viewer it was exciting to see them pop up again in other things.

So what about TV now? Do we still use those first 6 (sometimes more) episodes to re-establish the premise? Well, it certainly hasn’t gone away. Look at any network show that still produces 22 - 24 episodes a season and you’ll still see that the pilot season just keeps re-iterating the premise established in the pilot episode, specifically in anything that’s procedural - that’s you’re monster/problem-of-the-week shows. Think sitcoms like Brooklyn 99 or Superstore or dramedies like Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist. The reason being that these shows play in the traditional model of television - on a network, once a week. They are not releasing episodes all at one time or relying on their audiences to stream a whole season in one sitting. These are shows that still assume that someone out there is going to tune in or stumble across their show one night while they’re surfing channels (lol) and need to be told, no matter what episode they’ve just turned on, what the premise of the show is. They need to be formulaic so that people can pick it up anywhere at any time.

But what about shows that don’t follow this traditional model? I mentioned in my last post that seasons are getting shorter and shorter, so when you’re writing a show that only has (8) episodes instead of 22, how much time do you really want to spend establishing the premise? Because of these short seasons, you’re also dealing with shows that are more serialized and less procedural than their predecessors - meaning, you’re dealing with a show that focuses on a season long story (think Game of Thrones or Stranger Things where each episode is an important chapter that you can’t skip) vs. a procedural (think the shows I mentioned above or any cop drama really) where each episode is it’s own contained story, neatly wrapped up at the end. These are shows where you can skip an episode and still know where you are in the show no matter where you start or stop watching. Supernatural is a little bit of both - procedural with their monsters of the week AND serialized with a season long arc. We’ll talk more on that in a later post. 

Not only are we getting shorter seasons, but we’re also dealing with shows that are not released over long periods of time. A few streaming channels, like Disney+ and HBO Max, make a deliberate point to slow-drip their seasons, but most streaming channels will release entire seasons in one shot. You don’t need to worry about your audience missing an episode because they have 24/7 access to all the episodes all at once. And for the most part, they’re designed to be binged. They start at full speed and they don’t slow down to keep driving you to the finale. 

Do I think the procedural is ever going to go away? No. As much talk as there is about dropping the cop drama from TV all together, I think audiences still love a good mystery series. And you can’t just think of procedurals as cop dramas either - a procedural also covers most if not all sitcoms. New Girl, Letterkenny, Parks and Rec, Superstore - these all have a premise that doesn't change from week to week. They may make tiny shifts away from what they set up in the pilot, but by and large, you know what you’re getting into any time you turn on an episode. I think we as an audience still like that kind of familiarity. We may be seeing a bigger swing towards more serialized content, but that doesn't mean that the procedural is dead and gone. 

So that’s what we’ve got for Supernatural - two dudes, driving around in a car full of spears and hand guns, killing bad guys. Some day, they may even find that father that’s missing. What could possibly go wrong? A lot. Stay tuned. 

The Last Descendant (Sam Winchester x Reader) pt.2

Summary for pt.2: You wake up in an entirely unfamiliar place but soon run into a familiar face. As the days pass, you grow closer to each other but every good thing has to come to an end, right?

Warnings: cursing, careless medication use

Word count: 2.850-ish

Read Part 1 HERE.

You wake up with a headache and an unusually dry throat, but these are minor inconveniences comparing to the fact that the room you’re in strikes you completely unfamiliar. You have no idea where you are. You throw off the covers and try to get up, but a painful throb in your left leg slows you down a bit. You examine the aching limb just to discover an apple-sized deep purple spot on it.

„What the hell happened?” you mutter under your breath. Eventually, you bring yourself to get up and limp over to the bathroom. 

„Well, you look like crap, princess!” you compliment your reflection and decide to wash your face, which, you conclude, doesn’t help at all. 

You find some painkillers in the nightstand drawer and pop a few pills, not caring to read the instructions regarding the dosage first. You find your stuff on a chair in the corner but decide against putting the skintight jeans on. Your leg definitely isn’t in the condiotion to be sexy, so you just slip into your ankle boots that go surprisingly well with the oversized male plaid shirt you’re wearing. Walking gives you a great deal of trouble, but being the stubborn ass person you are, you choose to ignore it and leave the room anyway. The corridor is way too lit and it gives off a hospital vibe, but you can tell this place isn’t one. There is a strange symbol on each door which seems remarkably familiar, but you can’t quite put your finger on it just yet. You wander aimlessly through the corridors that follow each other until you hear a noise coming from a room. When you limp closer and peek in you can see a man standing in what appears to be a kitchen, back turned to you.

„Best defense is a good offense, so here goes nothing…” you think to yourself as you creep up behind him as quietly as possible. You grab a frying pan from a hanger and just as you are about to give it a swing, the man turns around and grabs your wrist.

„Whoa..hey..Y/N!”

You stand there speechless for a second but regain your composure considerably fast.

„Abercrombie?! What are you doing here??”

He rolls his eyes.

„I thought we’ve established it’s Sam and I live here.”

„Then what am I doing here?!”

„Y/N, just calm down, okay? I’ll explain everything-”

„Well, I’m listening!” you cut in nervously.

„Give me the frying pan first, before you hurt anyone!” he commands, and you hand him the kitchen utensil despite your unwillingness. „Great. Now take a seat, I doubt your leg is already as good as new.” he comments, his eyes lingering on the purple spot. „Want some coffee?”

„Sure.” you sit down on the chair closest to you „I drink it with two loads of sugar, sprinkled with a little bit of an explanation.”

He gives you the most authentic bitchface you’ve ever seen in your life as he sits down across to you and hands you your coffe.

„It’s kind of a long story.”

„I’m listening.”

„Well…in a nutshell, you forgot something in the hotel room and when you came back for it, I invited you to have a few drinks as a sign of my gratitude for saving my ass. Then after a few too many we caught up on that kinky wild sex you had joked about before.”

You stare at him doumbfounded, which he finds very entertaining.

„We drank absinthe, didn’t we?” you finally manage to say while running both  hands through your hair „I mean I love that shit, but it can fuck me up real bad.”

Your comment seems to break him, and he starts chuckling.

„What? What’s so funny, Winchester?” it takes a couple of second before it dawns upon you „This didn’t happen, did it?” you ask through gritted teeth.

„Nope. But you should’ve seen your face.” he shoots you a content smile.

„Quit messing with me because bad leg or not, I can still kick your 6”2’ ass.”

„Is that really the way you’d treat someone who saved your life?”

„What do you mean? And I want the truth this time.”

He sighes and his expression turns grim just in a matter of seconds.

„Remember the blonde chick with the vampire you killed?” you nod „Turns out she wan’t a victim you saved from becoming monster snack. She was his mate.”

„Oh, okay. And?”

„And… you could say that she was kind of pissed off that you decapitated her one true love. So, when you took off on your bike and turned on the interstate road, she hit you right in the side with a truck. It’s basically a miracle that you got off with nothing more than a fractured leg bone.”

You gulp your coffee slowly.

„Based on that look on your face, this is not the end of the story, is it?” 

„No.” his voice is barely above a whisper „She then took you to a nearby abandoned warehouse and… and she wanted to turn you. That’s when I arrived. You see, the part of you forgetting something in the hotel room wasn’t entirely a lie. You left your machete there. I went after you immediately, assuming you left the way you did as that’s the only way out of that town. I saw your bike in the bushes and the signs lead to the warehouse…. I was just on time.”

You can feel tear drops forming in the corners of your eyes, so you wipe them off before they have the chance to surfice. The fact that he cared enough to save you stirs up so many unwanted feelings, feelings you thought died a long time ago.

„Thanks.”

„No problem. You did the same for me.”

A long silence falls on the kitchen.

„Y/N?”

„Hmm?”

„When I fought with the vampire, something weird happened.”

„Yeah?”

„Yeah. When I cut her on the arm with your blade, she just… froze. Like… almost as if something was already killing her from the inside.”

You hesitate a little. Should you tell him? After all, he saved you. He deserves to know. Certain parts, at least.

„It was forged with dead man’s blood. Incapacitates those fuckers just long enough for hunters to cut their heads off. Real piece of work, might I add.”

He nods as if he’s confirming a theory.

„One more question… where’d you get it?”

„Every girl’s gotta have her secrets, Sam.” you smirk at him mysteriously.

You steal quick glances at Sam whenever he’s not looking. And when he’s researching, he rarely looks at anything but the lore book. What is it about this man? What is it that makes you sit here and help him instead of running? What happened to staying out of everyone’s business? A few hours ago he told you everything… he’d been drunk the night you met, because his brother’s in trouble and he has no idea how to save him and he just lost it. But the worst part came when he mentioned the Men of Letters and that you’re currently at a safe house of theirs. This only should’ve made you grab your stuff and get gone, but the part involving angels and Michael above all is kind of the main reason for leaving and never looking back. And yet here you are, helping him, convincing yourself it’s because he saved you and your leg still needs time to heal… You shut the book you’ve been reading a little too fast, drawing his attention to yourself.

„If I have to read one more sentence, I swear my eyeballs are gonna start spinning around in their sockets and I’ll see my brain.” you say quickly in your defense, looking as innocent as possible. The right corner of his lips curls into a barely visible smile.

„Go get some shut-eye. You’ve been very helpful, Y/N, thanks.”

„Yeah, I’ve been helpful at finding nothing….” you murmur in response.

„Hey, you went through an entire book in just a span of a few hours! I call that help, even if there is no relevant information in it. Sleep well.”

„Will do.” you force a smile knowing exactly how big of a lie your reply is.

You limp back to the room you woke up in and read the manual on the painkilling drugs.

„Shit!” it’s not strong enough to knock you out for the entire night. „Well then, Sam might crap his pants later this night when the show starts…” you whisper to yourself and take a couple of pills.

The fatigue and the warmth of your blanket soon sends you to sleep. You don’t know how long you usually go without dreams, but at one point they always appear. First, they start off nice, mostly memories of your family. You, your father, mother and brother having a barbecue in the backyard, or just watching TV in the living room, anything basic you enjoyed doing with them. Then there’s a turning point when everything goes to hell. They appear and slaughter your whole family in front of you, one by one. Your father is the last one. He sees you hiding and tries to mouth something to you, but he’s choking on his own blood and you can’t make out anything, at least not until it’s too late. Every scream, every death rattle stops once and for all and that’s when you realize what he was saying. And you do it, regardless that it’s almost no use. You always wake up exactly when this happens, sweaty and screaming, but this time it’s different. There is someone calling your name.

„Y/N, wake up…Jesus, Y/N, wake UP!!” you hear a deep manly voice. Still in the haze of your recurring nightmare, you’re not able to identify who and you do what any person in this line of job would – try to incapacitate the intruder. In a blink of an eye you pull the person onto yourself, then shift so you would be on top and point the gun you got from under your pillow in their face. You’re seeing stars from the pain that shoots through your leg as a result of your swift movements, but you do your best to ignore them and supress the urge of crying out. The only thing disturbing the heavy silence is your panting.

„Sam?!” you finally recognize him.

„Uh, yeah!” his hands are in the air, his gaze is shifting between the gun and your eyes. „I heard this awful screaming coming from your room and I thought something happened…”

You let the gun down and avert your eyes.

„Yeah, not so much. I mean, when people witness this, they freak out, but it’s just another typical night of fucked up sleep for me.”

„You were tossing and flailing and… it honestly sort of looked like you could hurt yourself.” he adds in a low tone.

„Sometimes I do. Sometimes I don’t. It’s fifty-fifty.” you admit, which quite frankly surprises you. You don’t really open up to anyone.

„I see…” his eyes then slowly travel all the way down your body from your face to your thighs as you are still stradling him.

Feeling your cheeks heat up, you slide off him to his right side.

„Sorry about that. And, well, for the whole thing.”

„Oh, don’t be, it was nothing at all. I’ve seen a lot worse actually.” ha pauses for a second, but can’t keep himself from asking „Hey Y/N…Was this…was this about the reason you got into the life?”

„Make a guess.” you respond sarcastically, and he draws his brows together in confusion, awakening some guilt in you. Sam is just trying to be there for you to which your reaction is pushing him away.

„I’m sorry.” you sigh „Yeah. It was about the reason, damn straight. You know how everybody gets into the life by losing someone?” he nods „Well, try losing your whole family at fourteen. Now that can mess your head up real bad. Even though it’s been more than a decade now, my subconscious makes sure I never forget what happened.”

„You know, if you’d like to share-„ he starts but you jump in.

„I appreciate it, Sam, I really do, but I don’t think I can do it.” 

„Of course, it’s fine. „ he gets off the bed and starts towards the door but stops halfway and sits down in a chair. You look at him perplexed.

„Uhm, Sam? What are you doing?”

„Nothing. Just making sure that if you fall asleep, you won’t hurt yourself.”

„By sitting there and watching me sleep like a weird-ass creep?”

„Now that you say it out loud, yes, I admit it sounds way worse than it actually is-”

„Sam, I don’t need a sleeping nanny. I’m a big girl, I can handle a few bruises every now and then.”

„Y/N, please. I’m pretty sure that seeing my naked butt added to your trauma, so please let me do this for you. Let me help you. Or at least let me try.” he pleads. You suddenly realize the weight of his words. He really wants to do this for you and for himself. He couldn’t help his brother, and this chance strikes him as a step on the path of redemption.

„Okay. I hope you don’t snort.”

He smiles at you gratefully. You replicate his expression and turn to the other side and try to fall asleep again. You have no idea how much time has passed but you can’t take it anymore. You sit up abruptly.

„Okay, this isn’t working. I can’t fall asleep knowing that you’re sitting there and staring at me.”

„What? I’m not staring, don’t be ridiculous.” he scoffs.

„You know what? Come here.”

„Beg your pardon?”

„Sit here beside me. Or lay down. Or whatever. This way the whole thing won’t have that creepy stalking vibe.”

„You sure about that?” maybe you’re imagining it, but his voice sounds a bit higher than usual.

„Yup. Although I might kick you a few times, which I apologize for in advance.”

„O-Okay.” 

A couple of second pass when you feel the bed sink in a little bit on your left side.

„We can share my blanket if you’d like.”

„Thanks.” he whispers, and you feel him tug on the fabric.

„Good night, Sam.”

„Good night, Y/N.”

When Sam lays beside you, he makes sure to keep a certain distance between the two of you. But during the night when you wake up, you find yourself a little too close to him. Your head is on his chest, your right arm is around his torso. One of his arms is around you, his lips brush against your forhead. You can feel his hot breath fanning your face. Your very first intinct is to jump out of the bed as far away from him as possible, but somehow you don’t follow it. What the hell’s wrong with you now? Or was something wrong with you earlier when you thought cutting everyone out was the only way? You have no idea. And the fact that Sam’s hold around you tightens does not aid you in finding an answer.

The next morning you prepare breakfast by the time he wakes up. None of you mention the proximity you’ve experienced the previous night. The day goes by with researching. You try to crack a joke occasionally and it appears effective – he rewards them with a smile, even with a laughter once. 

Later on, your attempt at a peaceful slumber is again ruined by your restless subconscious. Sam bursts through the door. This time you don’t pull a gun at him – your shaking hands and tear-blurred eyes wouldn’t even let you - but sternly express your desire for him to leave. Being a Winchester, he does the exact opposite, this time not bothering to keep a distance.  Somehow your figure and his fit perfectly. This goes on for a few days, but you decide to leave. The research isn’t going anywhere, but Sam’s Mom and a friend named Bobby supposedly have a lead on his brother. Plus, you have your own business to run, you can’t keep on playing vacation and miss out on everything.

As a surprise, Sam’s fixed your bike that got trashed in the accident.

„I’m nowhere near my brother, but I did learn from the best.” he says shyly, scratching the back of his ear.

„No, Sam, it’s perfect. Couldn’t have done a better job myself.” you say as you stand on your toes to press a kiss on his cheek. Your lips may linger a little longer than they should. „Thanks. For everything.” you add, your voice scarcely a whisper. He smiles down at you, not saying anything.

You walk to your bike, but before you put your helmet on, the words basically just fall out of your mouth. 

„Hey, don’t be a stranger, Winchester. You should call sometimes.”

I went off on a rant to a friend about things like Gamble Era, and miscellaneous idolized past authors, and you know what, fuck it. I'm going to say it out loud. And listen, listen this is NOT going to be my normal "Whatever you like :)" post like, this is literally an accumulation of horse shit I've seen talked about in any and all lanes for years that have been driving me fucking bananas for years. Don't just read this going HAHA I HATE GAMBLE TOO and then be shocked when I slap at inexplicably favorited authors in this fandom beyond that.

------

God how can anyone genuinely like Gamble, like, literally, legitimately and 1000%, not even about her killing Cas or whatever, what kind of pure trash TV do these people intake in mass that they think Gamble was good at her job I can not emphasize enough how cripplingly disappointing the shift from S4-5 to 6-7 was I know art is in the eye of the beholder or whatever but JESUS. FUCKING. CHRIST.

Fuck constructivist theory there's a point when things are just clearly trash Benefits S7 had: Just da bros uhhhh *flips through pages* Anything else? Are dick jokes art?

Her era was overrun by plot holes you could fly boeing jets through -- and I don’t mean shit like when fandom goddamn made up in their own damn head about an angelreaper retcon even though the reaper in the same episode they said was a retcon said the deadass opposite of what everybody fucking wound themselves up about, just deadass yawning voids -- it had unstable mechanics on previously established species shit, the villain plot was one giant monster of the week that tried desperately to go back to how they handled shit like Azazel as a threat but miserably failed, the monster had the dumbest weakness possible, the characters themselves were unstable in their characterizations and not even in that general "I don't like what the show is doing with them" but episode to episode Sam flipping from ripping Dean with laughter over gay jokes to woke-sounding sentiments

The cinematic style was gone and just vacant, it was neither the overexposed horror desaturated film nor the vivid fantasy of Carver, it just sat there like an unpolished lump

While later seasons also lost the classic rock vibe for budget reasons, that too disappeared in her era so we had no film energy, no story energy, no character energy, no villain energy, no structure energy, and we didn't even have the fucking cool tunez but we had dicks allergic to windex

It even lacked the elements that gave Kripke era value

Dusty americana died, all we had left was teenage girl fuckin emo sad boi drama And even that was miserably piss poor

I have never seen such a visionless fucking disaster successfully air an entire season on my fucking TV

I will never, EVER be able to outline what a fucking disappointment it was to go from S4-5 level show maturation into this negative embarrassment by season 7.

S6 Kripke was still around to some extent and that's the only reason I can deduce, S7 minded, there was any substance to it, even if her writing and editing crew at the time were a goddamn tire fire. And then people turn around and yell feminism if you criticise the giant fucking blazing slag heap that was her era and blame anyone and everyone but her and here you FUCKING go and she does half the shit all over again in the Magicians

(The friend replied: "The season only works in reverse, which is a crime on serialised TV (and just bad screenwriting)." )

That's just it though, it's like S7 we were suddenly back to fucking episodical TV like S1-2 because enough fuckbats yelled about Good Old Days. Only instead of ʷĤε𝕣є'𝓼 đα𝒹 or 𝐓Ħⓔ DεᗰＯᶰ 卄𝓐ｓ Ƥl𝓐𝓝Ş ℱⓞｒ Ⓜ𝔢 it was   ħ𝔞ⓗａ 𝓓ＩＣ𝐤ᔕ  🍆

I mean fucking sure this show started targeting late teenage women but Kripke had started maturing it forward and then Gamble fucking rolls along and it's like she's writing for 13 year old boys suddenly

Well I say that's what she seemed to be writing for but at the time the marketing was gross objectification going LOOK PRETTY BOYS WITH GUNS and that was it, that was the substance of what they gave a shit about and apparently the kind of demographic they thought constituted the sum of the SPN audience which, go get fucked guys, seriously. No fucking wonder the ratings got gouged in half over the course of a year. And fandom yells BUT FRIDAY DEATH SLOT but go sit and spin, S6 was friday deathslot too but before Kripke disappeared as the last thread holding SOME kind of cohesive value in the piece together in S6, that went to shitfuckhell in a handbag at light speed. People migrated to SPN Fridays S6 just fine. They LEFT season 7 and then people plug their ears if they don’t like that. And Carver had to fight all S8 to get it back, /but succeeded, and then-some./ 

oh and lemme head off fandom dumbfuck argument #72 about “well Dabb’s ratings are lower than Gamble’s were so he sucks and ruined it worse” go take your fucking ass and google “national primetime ratings decline” and enjoy exploring the last fucking 70 years of TV history. Pointing out a show crashes within a year because of massive failure is not the same as people being intentionally fucking daft sods to the TV universe’s decline over the last decade so like, don’t. Don’t be that person. Because you’re still embarrassingly wrong.

(The friend replied: "That's why I don't get why people care about what the vocal minority have to say. They *already* got what they wanted. It crashed and burned. Nobody in their right mind in corporate world is gonna be like, let's try that again, let's throw more money into that burning pit That's just not happening. Gay angels or no, it just ain't." )

I mean that should have been obvious when 1. Carver brought back Cas and pretty much immediately promoted him to Regular 2. Misha then got promoted to lead credits in S12, no matter what circles of intentional, willful ignorance fandom argues about what the credits mean for petty piss fights

"LOL & MEANS HE'S LESS IMPORTANT" Shut the fuck up and sit down you basement dwelling shitlord, go watch the A-Team, tell me how Mr T is the least important character

Also unpopular fuckin opinion Robbie Thompson and Ben Edlund are not That Great. Compared to what they were SURROUNDED with they were exceptional but Berens and Yockey could run circles around them both. They just happened to give fandom shit they liked during dark times so it made them fun. Robbie Thompson and Ben Edlund are basically the baseline value of our current writing team on random names. Give me Robbie Thompson and give me Davy Perez and I see no fucking difference. People compare Edlund to Yockey because of certain shit he pulled off but like, no? If there WAS a comparison it’d be like, Meredith, and even then I can’t see any way Edlund is substantially better than Meredith but could list the other in reverse?

But if we're talking about being able to write pieces with more than 1 or 2 layers of impact I'm sorry, it's rose colored glasses that makes people idolize them

Like if people seriously objectively fucking sat and reviewed the methodology and substance of their past idol authors to the demonstratable level of the current crew where I am DEAD ASS HAVING DISCOURSE WITH THE EXEC PRODUCER ABOUT BAUDRILLARDIAN CONCEPTS AND DELILLO in the middle of a hypercomplex postmodern two-directional commentary piece on some scaffolding of sociopolitical representation commentary that SAILS past the level the ‘activists’ in this fandom think about, literally, what people like is Gay Shit They Got lobbed at them or shiny visuals. And you know what, whatever, sure, like what you like IDGAF but don't sit here like Thompson was some fucking Shakespeare. No, your fucking "meta" you -- you, in any lane, anyone, any ship, anywhere, ever -- wrote by COMPLETELY randomly associating whatever storyline you could staple on to try to pretend the text was doing what you want at the time -- is not the same as author intent and actual weight and merit to the cohesive structure of what they build.

YES YES I KNOW, Death of the Author, someone just popped that up in their head, like the ten thousand posts I've made over the last 209349 years addressing how people abusive the fuck out of the term and that's fine, interpret shit however you wanna make it do jumping jacks but don't sit here entering the time you attached Little Bo Peep as some sort of intrinsic value to Dean trying to find Sam in 1492 and act like that's some deep critical shit the authors thoughtfully laced into the piece, these are not the same fucking conversation.

Big hollow voids of statements doesn’t make a better author, it makes you bust your ass harder to actually give any sort of consequential meaning to the piece, and that has nothing to do with the quality of the author or text themselves, that has to do with your interpretation in a piece devoid of genuine thematic subtext so people desperately try to bobby pin some bullshit together. Which also is probably why this fandom can’t tell the difference between coding, interpretation, subtext, and text for their fucking life anymore.

Protip the entire goddamn writing room is pouring that gay shit in your cup that's been triple brewed above Robbie or Edlund’s pots and people are still complaining it isn't enough

Another point that drives me up a wall, "LAZARUS RISING IS THE BEST EPISODE EVER" okay like lmaooooo what the fuck are you smoking Was it impressive as fuck at the time yes it was. But again, fucking perspective. I literally went back and watched it like a month ago and I realized it was a fucking void of content compared to our modern writing, it just had one of the most impressive entrances, it DID have good directing (YES MANNERS WAS GOOD, NO DISRESPECT), and it introduced a character everybody loved. Dean was still a halfass caricature

You wanna know why everybody made that shit gay right away Because there was no fucking substance around it it was a wallpaper of a cool looking episode that was otherwise blank space to run around in on dialogue they should have thought to construct better if they didn't want it to be gay

And sure since then the author room has picked up the big gay ball and started actually turning it into some shit which, great, but this is yet again a matter of structure and intent versus throwing rotten pasta at the wall and seeing if the mold makes it stick. I don't care if you have a vegan recipe that converts the fucking mold on the pasta into a healthy sauce base that isn't what it was thrown at the wall like, and no amount of complimenting the original chef's moldy pasta means it was some tasty shit before you added 10,000 ingredients they never fucking thought about or at least a second chef came along and figure out what to do with the pile of goo.

Fandom would stop being this miserable fucking putrid stinkhole if people would collectively apply some goddamn perspective to the content they argue about before even bothering to engage with uwustiel/cest dot tumblr dot com in irrelevant argument #9238428934 they use to fence off whether they should enjoy the content or try to explore it for its value or not because there is NO. MORE. PERSPECTIVE.

YOU KNOW WHAT? IT’S FINE TO EVEN ADMIT YOU LIKED THINKY-FREE TV, THAT’S FINE, THAT’S YOUR RIGHT.

But don’t SIT here acting like a lot of these former train wrecks were “better authors” or somehow objectively “better content.” No like, you like not thinking about shit that much and staring at pretty boys or whatever, good on you, but you literally like, objectively, some of the shit I’ve seen go down is like genuinely trying to compare a toddler’s fridge art to a Vasarely and hold them both up in front of people who do art for a living. They ain’t gonna shit on the kid’s fridge art, but they’re gonna go “awwwww she’s gonna grow up to be a great artist!” before breaking down on Vasarely’s vector illusion shit, sorry, that’s just how it be. I’m sure the kid had some sort of vision to drawing the triangle over the square that kinda looks like a house but the hypercomplex thought processes simply aren’t there. 

Just people STUCK in weird idolization of shit that is so far past irrelevant to the current piece in play and fighting to win arguments while trying to convince themselves they're right and secretly dreading how titanically failboat wrong they are ignoring the sound of the glacier having ripped through their hulls SEASONS ago. The ice water has already leaked onto the fucking DECK and people are still arguing about completely ridiculous shit or fancying things that were 1/10th of the value of the current content they're claiming isn't good or enough or valid compared to the shallow specters that birthed them out of old aeons. 

Dead-ASS Kripke picked shit because it “sounded cool.” I’m sorry if there weren’t some model guys fandom wanted to hump everybody would be making fun of the fedora-tipping mindset that probably is where the fucking trenchcoat came from and may have debated giving Cas -- sorry, “CASS” because “COOL” -- katanas. But sure. Way, way deeper and more intricate than the Jungian intertextual post modern piece that’s so tightly knit it’s making fandom unwittingly comment on themselves.

I thought people grew out of that shit when they were like 16 unless they were incels

(My spidey senses detected someone unironically preparing to inform me about stealing borrowing the imagery from Constantine on reflex, because you know, that’s some peak intertext right there.)

Dead ASS that writing logic is that motherfucker that wanders into your freeform RP server with Spawn knockoff miasma chainsaw arms under his leather trenchcoat shooting twin Deagles with a vague story of wanting to face his demon overlord father that’s written like a looney tunes villain, in the middle of you cowriting with your lit-savvy friends trying to make a fun fantasy adaptation rendering fascism and corporate america and then he gets upset when nobody wants him to shit lightning -- /fight me/.

SERIOUSLY FOLKS. WANNA ENJOY THE SHOW AGAIN? GET SOME PERSPECTIVE. LET GO OF FETISHIZING WEIRD WARPED MEMORIES AND LINES OF ARGUMENT INSIDE YOUR OWN HEADS ISTG IT'LL HELP.

The day I find an argument that makes season 7 legit good TV rather than, at very best, “fun junk TV I had a cool ride on”, that does NOT involve evoking arguments distinctly born out of petty shipping culture arguments and/or (generally the same) attaching their own shit with a stapler to MAKE it have some sort of meaning at the time it was airing (rather than later showrunners making it add up to something), I’ll eat my fucking arm.

𝓯𝓾𝓬𝓴. Carver era had already gone through dramatic changes that deepend the scope of the show and even then, 15.09 Bobo’s The Trap held more ACTUAL commentary on this fandom than Thompson’s Fanfiction episode did as a supposed fandom-commentary episode much LESS 15.04 as an actual meta framed episode. Fanfiction was like 4 years behind and completely fucking unplugged, whereas the base of the show itself is more integrated now in these dynamics than any attempt at meta episodes back then were.

old days it took one goddamn episode of dreaming for people to 1. start talking about Freud and 2. pretend the whole everything after that was some Freudian masterpiece even when, if it were, it would have been an entire avalanche of dropped balls. But two seasons of direct citations and literal manifest avatar-bodies of Jungian psychology elements and it’s hard to pull more than a peep out of the fandom about it because they’re too busy yelling about tulpas or sirens from before most of the people around here hit puberty.

𝓕 𝓤 𝓒 𝓚

furthermore why does anyone that idolize season 7 for what they think fits their bill think season 15 is gonna end how they want when they’ve been taking the piss out of season 7 over and over and over and over again IN THE TEXT as being dumb as SHIT

𝕀ℕ 𝕋ℍ𝔼 𝔽𝕌ℂ𝕂𝕀ℕ𝔾 𝕋𝔼𝕏𝕋

WHY SET YOURSELF UP FOR DISAPPOINTMENT

TO WIN TEMPORARY ARGUMENTS? THAT YOU’RE ACTUALLY LOSING FROM START TO FINISH?

actually you know what

rolling back to the whole “empty/subtextless stuff making people bust their ass” seems to be what you miss. Saying, “I miss empty, shallow, shitty writing” doesn’t really sound as good though so we change “what I like” into “this is talentless trash” it postures better, but it seems to be the people who have objectively fucking refused core tenets the show has evolved over the last 7 years, most explicitly the last 3-4, and absolutely refused to soak them in the form they deliver in. And they’re mad. Because it isn’t hollow. They can’t run around in fucking blank space and plug absolute horse shit into the voids and then posture like they’re supreme in this noncommital wasteland. Because everything’s built out and structured in and loud as fuck and people are debating the actual installed and even dogmatically cited work of philosophers driving the ideology of the show now and they can’t get away from it, and/or actually have to pay attention to the whole show and think about it all as a picture instead of the parts they want, so it’s “bad.”

I just sensed like 50 readers shoving their foot into that shoe. Good.

Jesus christ I’m pretty sure that’s what it is in hindsight after yelling all of this. These characters can’t be used as sock puppets anymore that people can win bullshit arguments unless they literally delete the entire principle of the modern show -- and this goes for MULTIPLE lanes really, each in their own way -- so now it’s “bad.” And that’s just not how this works.

The sheer brilliance of the Pikmin shorts

And how their success shows that a cartoon with no dialog can excel in quality.

This is going to be seperated into three portions, for each short! Short 1 will be titled in RED. Short 2 will be titled in BLUE. Short 3 will be titled in PURPLE.

SHORT 1

Short one, The Night Juicer, is my least favorite out of the three. Granted, I still really enjoy the short! But it's not memorable in comparison to the other two. It's the shortest, and plays off of what Pikmin are named after! For those not aware of Pikmin lore or the games, Pikmin were named based off of Pikpik Carrots, which are very popular on Capitan Olimar's home planet, Hocotate.

This short begins with a very cute title sequence, showing Pikmin just doing Pikmin things! Which the series is exceptional at.

The first short starts with a Red, Blue and Yellow Pikmin watching Olimar make himself an unassuming red smoothie.

A lil squeaky sound effect is made when Oli puts his hands on his hips, thats all.

ANYWAYS-

The Primary Pikmin trio all run up to Olimar as he finishes up his cup, but stop after glancing over to the side of the blender, seeing a cut up Pikpik carrot they mistake for a Red Pikmin.

This sends the trio into a frenzy, freaking out and running away from Olimar.

Oh and this

Consider my timbers, shivered. Olimar creepily walks towards them, as if it was a horror movie. The trio fantasize what will become of them once Olimar catches them, while trying to get as far away from him as possible.

Olimar corners them in the storage closet, and the trio fear the worst. Only for Olimar to daintily push them to the side, and pick up two pikpik carrots for another smoothie.

All in all, this short isn't bad! It's cute and simple, a jokey horror trope. It simply suffers the fate most pilot episodes do. The other two are much less Olimar centered, and shine as a result.

SHORT 2

Short 2, Treasure in a Bottle, is my second favorite of the trio, but it definitely is close to overtaking short 3. This series is devoid of Olimar entirely, focused on Pikmin interacting with eachother. (And our protag, a Red Pikmin's desire for the shiny)

Short 2 starts out with a Red Pikmin, lets call him Steve, in a field chasing a butterfly. He gets distracted by a bottle, and proceeds to stare at his reflection in the glass.

The ramune is giant in comparison to Steve, and then he notices the shine of the marble inside. He screams in excitement, before scaling multiple objects to reach the top of the ramune bottle. (After falling off a grass blade gently)

Steve marvels at the marble, and hops into the bottle. He notices the long way down from where the marble lies and shudders, determined to roll the marble out. He attempts several times to do so, and on his last attempt, the marble gets stuck. After a few seconds, the marble falls and steve lands at the bottom of the bottle, and can't get out. While stuck, a trio of a single red, blue and yellow Pikmin come across Steve!

After laughing about how silly he looks inside the bottle, the trio tries to come up with a plan to break Steve out. Blue suggests filling the bottle with water, so Steve floats to the top and can be pulled off. Steve quickly shuts the idea down, as all Pikmin aside from blue Pikmin can't swim. Yellow has a much more direct approach, grabbing a bomb rock and allowing it to detonate, launching the bottle into the air. Steve flies out of the bottle, but as the bottle lands on the ground, Steve falls back into the bottle.

The three watch a trio of blue pikmin latched to eachother trying to pull down a butterfly, before a purple adds too much weight and the butterfly gets away. The trio has an idea, and like that Steve is saved!!!!

But not without taking the ramune with him ;)

SHORT 3

The final and longest Pikmin short, Occupational Hazard, is easily the best of the three in my opinion. It has Olimar present, but he isn't the focus of the short, the pikmin doing their thing are!

The short starts off showing some Pikmin taking apart pieces of a large machine, carrying bits ans pieces along, with come cute slapstick type comedy throughout. The camera pans out, showing how small the pikmin are compared to PNF-404 (Earth)

A quick pan later, and Olimar appears! He's using his whistle to direct Pikmin on where to go, much like in the games. The Pikmin are catapulting eachother, two go down, one comes up. They all carry the bits of metal to the Reasearch Pod, which assesses value. The Pod takes a brief leave, panning over Olimar and the Pikmin.

What a great shot

A yellow pikmin gets catapulted, offering a bent nail, which Olimar declines. The pikmin tosses the nail over the edge, hitting a white pikmin on the head. (Which they are VERY angry about) Two blue attempt to pull up a purple Pikmin, which was definitely unsuccessful, followed by a very angry white Pikmin yelling and taking his spot, only to be flung into the stratosphere after two purple Pikmin come down the catapult.

Back to business as usual.

The camera pans to some yellow Pikmin making their way inside the machine itself! Some yellows are carrying materials, but two stop and notice a small bolt. One touches it and gets shocked, followed by both touching it, and their leaves sprout into bulbs and flash, as they made a current! A blue tries to join in on the fun, but dies, as they can't conduct electricity. Poor guy :(

A small group of Pikmin sneak off to some pipes, ready to go have some fun! A blue Pikmin kicks a red through a pipe, and we get a cute transition to the other side of the pipes! A yellow pulls out a mushroom, a red and blue pull out screws and, there's a cute mario reference with a red Pikmin! Our lovely gang finds an odd looking pipe and decide to check it out, only for it to have been the snout of a Blowhog! It spews fire before emerging from the pipes, nearly burning the group. Luckily for them, some red Pikmin take on the Blowhog, because they're fire resistant. The red Pikmin are playing with thr Blowhog, despite it still chasing their friends around breathing fire. Luckily AGAIN, the Blowhog trips, and lands in the mud, its snout being filled with it. Naturally, they decide to have fun with the mud.

Back to Olimar and the construction site, my absolute favorite piece of pikmin media occurs. (Spliced 4 convenience, sound on!!!)

Something very big in these shorts are exaggerated reactions as well as music and sound effects playing to convey a specific feeling. Pikmin do not speak, and neither does Olimar. But in these shorts, their small soundbytes are able to convey what the pikmin are saying to eachother. This method of sound design is done extremely well, and I would argue to say that if these shorts prove anything at all, it's that nintendo could make a TV series that has no dialog whatsoever, and still have the audience rolling on thr floor laughing.

Back to the mud buds, we get a few more shots of them playing before yellow gets distracted. The shiny strikes again. Yellow walks into a large oil drum, and picks up a screw. Deeper in the drum, another sparkle catches his attention. Yellow picks the second up, and finds himself at a place with several odd colored objects. One of which he kicks.

It's a Bulborb!!! And its MAD. The mud buds are in trouble, and they're running as fast as they can from the Bulborb, who gets a red and blue Pikmin into its mouth. The two manage to get out through its nostrils, giving the others enough time to make a plan to outsmart the Bulborb.

A giant glove comes out of nowhere, halting the Bulborb and hypnotizing it, before flinging itself onto its backside. The glove was being controlled by an entourage of Pikmin, and the Bulborb catches on rather quickly, biting the glove and flinging the mud buds out. They all hide in a wheel rim(?) and some slapstick ensues.

Fed up with the mud bud's antics, the Bulborb kicks the rim, but hurts his toe instead. Poor guy,,, but he had it coming.

With a cute fanfare, we quickly return to Olimar, who has scaled the machine! But now his attention turns to the Bulborb that has been oddly fascinated with the rim.

The Bulborb finally manages to free the car wheel, throwing it into the air! Once it hits the ground, the mud buds all fall out, much to Olimar's dismay. And the way he struggles while whistling for the pikmin's attention is a BIG mood for people who've played the game before.

The mud buds start running to Olimar after hearing his call, much to the Bulborb's dismay. A chase ensues, and the Blowhog appears again, with its fire abilities regained. Rhe Bulborb continues to give chase, with two Pikmin meeting their demise. Everything seems hopeless, as the buds and Bulborb are huddled into the scoop of the machine.

And we get thrown back to the yellow Pikmin's party, with several linking to eachother and sparkling. One's foot touches the other's head, completing the current and turning the machine on.

The scoop gets sent upwards, as Olimar falls and lands on a lever, causing the scoop to let loose the contents inside. Right when it seems the buds are going to hit the ground along with the Bulborb, their leaves sprout into flowers! They gently float to the ground, while the Bulborb was.... not so lucky. A heavenly light shines as the gang ascend, with triumphant music in the background.

Oh and then all 97 pikmin left go ham on the bulborb.

The machine begins to deconstruct, and fall apart. More sadly relatable whistles from Olimar ensue, and uh

This happens.

After clearing the explosion, Olimar and the Pikmin look upon the wreckage, as the Pod reappears, and takes a value of the entire machine. The Pod asseses that the wreck is 100,000,000,007 pokos, and Olimar makes a triumphant pose. The white pikmin from earlier comes crashing down during the Fin. screen.

Now for my personal thoughts, while I have had some spread throughout, my final cohesive thoughts are as stated down below. Pikmin as a franchise has been dead for a while. We got a reboot of Pikmin 3 this year, and these were reuploaded from the WiiU era. The overwhelmingly positive response from the community as well as non-pikmin fans is second to none. These short style, no dialog cartoons have worked for Nintendo for years. (If anyone remembers the Yoshi and Poochy shorts I love you) This series is phenomenal at conceying emotion, or the volume of the situation, without saying a single word. The pikmin scream in excitement, they make their little noises in anger, dings and drones are placed perfectly, so EVERYONE can understand the situation. I fully believe that more companies should view these cartoons as cartoons, and give them the spotlight as well. Each short remains the length it has to be, and shows some fun content at that. The Pikmin interacting with eachother and behaving the way they do is adorable, especially when in the Pikilopedia from the games, Olimar mentions specifically they act like toddlers. Toddlers who help him not miss his own kids as much, while stranded on PNF-404.

If you wanna give the series a view for yourself, I'll provide the thinks below!!

Sanctuary: Chapter 2

Pairing: Wolfstar

Summary: The epic tale of Remus Lupin and Sirius Black, from their first meeting until their happily ever after.

Link to Prologue

Link to All Chapters 

March 13th, 1971 As always when he woke from a transformation, Remus was lying on his stomach. He assumed that the wolf curled up to sleep when the moon set and counted it as a blessing that he didn't have to experience the pain of morphing back into himself every time. One excruciating change every month was awful enough, two would be unbearable. Something was different this morning, though. Usually, he woke up to the nauseating stench of blood and agonising pain in various body parts, but this morning, all he could smell was damp earth and pine trees and, apart from a general ache in his bones and a deep sense of fatigue, he only felt a gentle breeze caressing his naked body. His heart pounded as the realisation hit him. The wolf had escaped. Grunting with the effort, he rolled over and opened his eyes to the sight of the bright blue sky filtered through the tree canopy. The sun's rays were warm on his skin. Thank Merlin they were in the middle of a heatwave or he'd be freezing. When he looked around, he recognised his surroundings to an extent. He knew those woods, had spent many long hours in them over the previous few years, but he didn't know where he was within them. One part looked very similar to another, and he had no idea which direction the house lay. His parents would find him, wouldn't they? But no, the woodland was huge, and he wasn't sure if they were even in a fit state to look for him. A shiver went down his spine and he swallowed hard, pushing the thought away. It was up to him to figure out how to get home. He could do it. He listened hard, hoping to hear the trickling sound of the stream that ran near his home. If he found that, he could follow it back, but he heard nothing but birdsong and grasshoppers. His breaths were coming short and fast, and he needed to calm down. Panicking would not help the situation. The woodland lay to the south of his home, so he needed to go north. But how could he work out which way was north? The sun! He looked up at the sky again. The sun sat very high, almost directly above him. Close to noon then, but morning or afternoon? He wasn't sure. While he waited for the sun to move, he checked himself over. Very few injuries, some scratches and bruises, but nothing worse. The wolf must enjoy being outside. Not that he could ever let it happen again. He shuddered. Merlin, he hoped his parents were okay. Merlin knows how long it would take to walk back to his house, and he would need his strength if the journey was long, so he lay back down to rest. It wasn't long before he fell asleep. When he woke for the second time, the sun had moved a little. He couldn't have been asleep for long, but it was enough to work out which direction he should walk. So, he got to his feet and set off towards home. His legs were weak and shaky under his weight, and he needed to take frequent breaks along the way to rest. The sun was hanging low in the sky by the time he glimpsed his house through the trees. He took a deep breath, trying to prepare himself for gory scenes of carnage before he approached. Remus pushed the front door open and walked inside. He'd been expecting a mess, but the state of the living room made him gasp. The wolf had torn the upholstery off the sofa and armchair, ripped the curtains down and shredded the carpet. Worst of all, the Beast had smashed the TV to pieces. Looking at it caused a tightness in his chest; his mum would kill him. If she lived to see the destruction. He hoped she was still alive to be able to kill him. Finding no sign of his parents in the living room, he went through to the kitchen and breathed a sigh of relief to see the room relatively unscathed; the wolf had knocked the dining table over and smashed the back door off its hinges, but the rest of the room seemed normal. He checked the rest of the house. His room exhibited its usual state of post-full-moon horror, apart from the door no longer being attached to the frame. That was new. His parent's room and the bathroom were untouched. The wolf must have gone straight for the living room, straight for his parents. He inhaled deeply and found no scent of human blood. A promising sign. But if they survived, and they were unhurt, then where were they? He grabbed some clothes from his parents' room and went to the kitchen to find something to eat and wait for them to show up. Their absence continued well into nightfall, and he paced the floor in front of the living room window, watching for their return. During the evening, he had cleaned up most of the mess, paying particular attention to clearing the fireplace of obstruction in case they came home by floo. While doing so, he'd briefly considered flooing to St. Mungo's, but if he did, and they weren't there, the Ministry could find out his wolf had escaped. It was an executable offence. He couldn't take the risk. There was nothing left to do but wait. A loud crack sounded from the kitchen. Remus' head whipped around, and he hurried towards the sound. When he turned the corner, his dad was standing with his back to the door holding his mum. She was leaning against him, sobbing into his chest. Neither of them noticed him in the doorway, but he let out a breath and relaxed his tense muscles. They were both okay. "Shh, honey, we'll find him," his dad said, rubbing her back. "I can't bear the thought of him out there all alone in the dark. He must be so scared, Lyall," his mum said, still sobbing. Remus stepped forward. "Mum, it's okay. I'm right here." His mum's head jerked up and his dad released her, spinning around. "Remus?" she said. "Oh, Remus, you're okay! How did you get home?" "I'll tell you in a minute, Mum," he said, "but are you okay? I didn't hurt you, did I?" "No, we're fine, sweetheart. Your dad apparated us away the moment we heard the wolf break your door down. I was so worried though. We started searching as soon as the sun came up, but we couldn't find any sign of you." They went through to the living room and his dad reparo'd the sofa and armchair. He could do nothing for the TV, though. His mum had given it a sad look but hadn't said a word about it, which only made his chest tighten even more. When they were all seated, he relayed the story of his journey back to the house. His mum praised him for his ability to think logically in a crisis. His dad only said they would need to find something more secure for the next full moon. -o-o-o-o-

March 21st, 3:27 am Standing out in the back garden of Number 12 Grimmauld Place, Sirius shivered. It was bloody freezing. He looked around at his extended family, all dressed in their Black family robes, jet black and inlaid with a swirling pattern in silver thread. None of them seemed to be cold, heating charms no doubt. His bitch of a mother had likely "forgotten" to do his robes intentionally. He scowled at her when she wasn't looking and then another blast of frigid air hit him and he shivered again. He didn't want to be there. The Black family ritual disgusted him, and the long-dead ancestor that invented it was probably insane. He'd long since decided to get rid of the practice when he was head of the family. Strengthening your magical core to enhance the casting of dark magic was unnecessary if you didn't use dark magic. The family stood in a large circle around a vast silver cauldron, which gleamed under the light of the half-moon, a glowing beacon in the dark garden. Inside, a deep purple potion bubbled menacingly. His father stood at the cauldron stirring the potion, moving his lips as he counted. Seven stirs clockwise, one anti-clockwise. His father raised a hand, and his cousin Bellatrix stepped forward. She sprinkled her handful of powdered nightshade into the cauldron with a flourish before returning to her spot in the circle. The potion turned a sickly green as his father began stirring again in a different pattern. He had never understood why they all needed a role in making the potion. Surely, his father could make it alone and just give them all some in the morning, you know, during the daytime. His father raised his hand again, and Bellatrix's sister Andromeda walked forward; she plopped her five dragon claws into the potion one at a time. In between the addition of each claw, his father stirred the potion clockwise, and the brew lightened a little. By the time Andromeda had finished her job, the potion glowed a pleasant sunshine-yellow. When she returned to her position, she glanced at Sirius across the circle and pulled a face. His father stirred the potion in a slow figure-eight pattern. The ritual continued on, each member of the family stepping forward in turn to add an ingredient. The potion changed colour many times during the process, and the fire beneath the cauldron burned hot, then cold, then hot again. When his father raised his hand for the last time, the potion was an ominous black, dark as the void of space, and Sirius took his turn stepping forward. His mother had given him the ingredient flobberworm mucus, the most boring one in the potion and the last to be added. The fluid's single purpose was to thicken the potion. Annoyed at having to stand out in the cold night for several hours just to add a thickening agent to a potion, he stomped up to the cauldron, poured the vial's contents in with a splash and stomped his way back to his position, letting his irritation show on his face as well as in his body language. His mother scowled at him. Her expression promised punishment for his actions, but he couldn't care less. With the potion completed, Kreacher appeared holding a tray of silver goblets inlaid with emeralds. His father decanted a little of the potion into each, and Kreacher took them around to the family members. When everyone held a full goblet, his father checked the time, and at 5:38 am, the moment of the equinox, he raised his goblet and said the words of the incantation. Everyone raised their goblets to their mouths and drank the potion. Sirius raised his too, but only pretended to drink. He assumed he must have drunk the potion when he was small, but he hadn't since he was five and his uncle Alphard had explained to him what it did. Hopefully, the potion's effects had worn off. He wanted no part of the dark arts. When everyone began heading inside, he poured the contents of his goblet into the shrubbery and spotted Andromeda doing the same. Interesting. March 24th Sirius paid dearly for his behaviour at the ritual. His mother had chained him in the cellar, and three days had passed with no food. Regulus couldn't reach him down there, and he lay on the floor, weak from the gnawing pain in his stomach. He shivered from the cold moisture of the cellar. There was the odd rat scuttling about, but Sirius didn't mind rats. He talked to them, and they kept him company in his misery. His wrists were sore and bleeding from the rough manacles, and his arm muscles ached from dragging the heavy chains around whenever he moved his arms, so he tried to stay as still as possible. He regretted being so impulsive at the ritual. Letting his annoyance dictate his actions was a mistake. If he had kept himself under control and behaved with respect, he wouldn't be suffering. It was the same way every time. He would get the urge to do something, and he never stopped to think of the consequences. He wasn't sure if he even could think ahead in that way. His brain didn't seem to work like that. He would feel something and need to act on it immediately. He felt the urge to run, and he ran, the urge to jump, and he jumped. Stopping himself when he felt like that seemed impossible. He didn't understand how other people could do it. He was still lying there, on his side on the filthy ground, when the heavy door creaked open. Peering up, he made out the silhouette of his mother framed in the doorway. He blinked a few times, and his vision cleared. She sneered at him. "Have you learned your lesson, you insolent little brat?" she spat. "Yes, Mother." His voice came out croaky from lack of use. She flicked her wand, and the manacles fell from his wrists. "Get cleaned up and then join us in the dining room for dinner, and you better behave yourself." Merlin knows how he would maintain proper table manners when he felt so weak, but he needed to try. Another punishment so soon would surely kill him. -o-o-o-o- March 30th Remus watched his dad digging the hole in the garden and shuddered. He could see only the top of his dad's head, and he was still digging, streams of dirt flying up out of the hole and adding themselves to the growing pile at the side. Swallowing hard, he tried not to think about how cold he would be, waiting there for the moon to rise in the winter. Hopefully, his dad would think to add a warming charm, but that was unlikely. Transforming there would be brutal. Cold always made pain feel worse, and the wolf would hate being confined in such a compact space, especially after its taste of freedom. The beast would undoubtedly take out its frustration on itself. He hugged himself and gripped his sides, digging his fingers into his ribs. If it kept his mum safe, he would endure it. His throat tightened, and he grimaced. He hadn't been treating his mum as well as he should recently. The wolf made him irritable and short-tempered, and he kept snapping at her over the slightest thing. His mum told him not to worry, that heightened emotions are a natural part of growing up, but he didn't believe her. She was just trying to make him feel better. Maybe one day the wolf would take over his human body completely and there would be nothing left of him. His dad continued working in the garden over the next few days. When the pit was complete, he laid a foundation of concrete and reinforced the structure with enchanted rebar. Next, he began building up the walls with cinder blocks, enchanting each one as he went. Remus sat with his back against a tree in the garden, enjoying the pleasant breeze through his hair and the sun's heat on his skin. He was rereading The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1 for the fifteenth time and practising the wand movements with a stick, but the distant roar of a car engine made him look up. The sound grew louder, and a minute later, his mum's battered blue hatchback came into view. He watched as she pulled up in front of the house, exited the vehicle and retrieved several bags of groceries from the boot. She glanced over and, spotting him under the tree, yelled, "Remus, can you come inside a minute, please?" Remus sighed at the interruption to his studying. He grudgingly closed the book, marking his page with an old scrap of parchment, and dragged himself to his feet. When he entered the kitchen, he found his mum grinning inanely at him. "I got you a present." "Why?" He gritted his teeth and fisted his hands at his sides. He didn't deserve a present. She shouldn't be spending her money on him, especially when they were spending so much on building his cage. Didn't she understand that it only made him feel worse? "Because I love you and I know how worried you are about your temper. I saw this in the second-hand book section at the charity shop, and I thought it might help." So it was a second-hand book? That eased his guilt a bit. They usually cost less than a pound, and he never could say no to a book. "What is it?" She handed him a bag, and he pulled the book out and stared at the cover for a beat. Calm the Beast with Meditation. The book was muggle, so the title couldn't be literal, but still, it made his heart hurt. "You saw this, and it made you think of me?" he said, looking up with tears burning his eyes. His mum bit her lip and frowned. "Well... yes... but not because of the title. Oh, Remus, wait, don't..." But she was too late. He dropped the book and fled to his room. He stayed there for the rest of the day. His mum considered him a beast. There was a painful tightness in his throat and it was hard to breathe. He didn't know how to deal with his feelings, so he made himself get angry instead. The emotion came easily. The anger always burned, bubbling away just beneath the surface. All he needed to do was stop suppressing it. His rage came out in a whirlwind of fury. He screamed and roared, battered his fists against the wall and kicked the furniture. The destruction he wrought on his belongings rivalled the wolf. Neither of his parents came to intervene. Probably too scared of the beast. He eventually wore himself out and fell into a fitful sleep full of nightmares about the wolf killing his parents. April 3rd The next day, Remus couldn't bear to show his face, and he watched from the window again as his dad worked. He had finished laying the cinder blocks the day before, and that day he was positioning one-inch thick steel rods across the top to seal the opening without blocking off the airflow. He fixed each one in place with a permanent sticking charm. How was he going to get in and out? A knock sounded at his bedroom door, and he winced. Time to face the music. "Come in," he mumbled, turning away from the window. The door opened, and his mum walked in holding the book just like on his birthday. "I'm sorry I upset you yesterday, sweetheart. Will you give me a chance to explain?" she asked. She shouldn't be the one apologising. It was him that had overreacted. "No," he started, and she winced. "I mean, yes, you can explain, but I meant no, you shouldn't be saying sorry, I should." He paused to stop himself babbling. "I overreacted and I'm sorry, Mum." She sat down at one end of the bed cross-legged and smiled at him, patting the spot in front of her. He joined her on the bed, and once he was settled, she started talking. "I bought this because it's a book on meditation. If there had been another with a different title, I would have bought it instead. But this was the only one," she said, looking him in the eye. "Do you believe me?" "Yes. Of course." "Good. Now that's out of the way. I thought it would be helpful to you because meditating gives you more control over your emotions and it can even reduce pain," she said, holding the book out to him. "Please, give it a chance?" He took the book and turned it over to read the back. The blurb confirmed everything his mum had told him, and it intrigued him. Could a muggle practice really help with such a magical problem? He would give it a shot. Anything was worth a try if it would keep him from becoming a monster. May 12th Remus had been practising meditation every day for several weeks, and he found it was helping a little to compartmentalise the pain of the transformation. Following the instructions in the book, he had built a fortress in his mind. His castle contained hundreds of rooms. In some, he placed memories that he didn't want to think about. In others, he placed emotions, so he could control when they came out and when they didn't. One room in his castle was specifically built for the pain of transformation. He had built it with thick steel walls and a door from a bank vault. He placed the pain inside and locked the door. Morphing into a wolf still hurt, but it was lessened a little, and he was better able to control his reactions to the pain. Hopefully with dedication he could lower the pain to a more bearable level. He wasn't delusional enough to think he could ever make it disappear completely. The book had said he would need to rebuild his mental landscape each time he meditated, but that didn't seem to be the case for him. When he built something in his mind, it remained there when he left and was still standing when he returned. It must work differently for magical folk. Meditation did nothing to control the behaviour of the wolf though, and the full moon two days earlier had been brutal. The wolf hated its new cage and made sure that he knew it. He had woken in the morning to find his body torn apart; the wolf had left great gouges in all his limbs and had attempted to chew its paw off. It had almost succeeded. His hand had been dangling from his wrist. It had taken two full days to recover from his wounds, even with the accelerated healing that came as a free-gift with lycanthropy. Now that he could get out of bed again, he was eager to get back to it. Meditation was the first thing he did every morning and the last thing he did every night, and this day would be no different. Indeed, it was even more important to practise when he had missed two days because of his injuries. He sat on the floor with his legs crossed and his back straight. His head was lowered, his hands in his lap and his eyes closed. He sank into his mental landscape and took pleasure in its familiarity. His mental image of himself differed from reality. In his head, he didn't have rings under his eyes, and he wasn't pale and sickly. His mental self was strong and healthy, and he walked with quick strides as he approached the front door of his fortress. It looked like a medieval castle on the outside, surrounded by tall fences to keep out intruders, but on the inside, he had decorated for comfort, with smooth painted walls and carpeted floors in pale blue. The door opened for him as he strolled up, welcoming him inside. He explored the halls, checking on the rooms to be sure everything was as it should be. Some doors that were supposed to be locked had opened in his absence, and he worked on securing them again. Once he was satisfied with his mental housekeeping, he left, locked the door behind him and opened his eyes. Meditation always left him with a deep sense of calm, even better than walking in the woods. He didn't lose his temper as much anymore, and he no longer felt like he was losing control of himself to the wolf. He really should thank his mum for buying the book for him. Maybe he could get up early and make her breakfast.

Chapter 3

A Farewell To The Clone Wars

Yesterday was the end of an era

After 11 years and 104 days

After a theatrical movie, a novel, a comic miniseries, 8 incomplete story reels, and 133 episodes

After 49 hours and 12 minutes of incredible, heartbreaking, beautifully animated television….

Ended, The Clone Wars have.

I watched all of the existing Star Wars movies on DVD when I was a kid, but I was never particularly enamored with them the way that others are. And then in August 2008, I went to the local movie theater with my grandmother to see an animated movie that – while I didn’t know it at the time – would chart the course of my future for years to come.

While a lot of the general Star Wars fandom looks down on the theatrical Clone Wars movie as weak and lackluster, 11-year-old me loved every minute of it. I’ve been obsessed with animation my entire life, and around 2 years before the theatrical release of Star Wars: The Clone Wars, I had just begun to explore the world of animation outside of my childhood Disney bubble, diving headfirst into SpongeBob and Avatar and Codename Kids Next Door. Whenever I saw commercials for an animated movie playing in theaters I would beg my family to take me to see it. It didn’t matter what the movie was actually about, all that mattered was that it was animated and I thought it looked fun.

So, when I saw Star Wars: The Clone Wars in theaters with my sister and my grandmother, I loved it. I enjoyed the movie so much that when I learned there was going to be a TV show following the movie, I was ecstatic. From the moment that the first episodes of Season 1 aired on Cartoon Network a few months later, I was hooked. From the very beginning I refused to miss a single episode. From middle school all the way through high school The Clone Wars became the axis around which almost all of my entertainment consumption revolved.

I started reading more Star Wars books and comics from all over the timeline. The Thrawn trilogy. Darth Bane. Fate of the Jedi. The Old Republic. Lost Tribe of the Sith. I devoured every piece of Star Wars media I could find as this show awakened in me an appetite for all things Star Wars. Whenever my parents asked for gift ideas for my birthday or Christmas, at the top of my list would be the latest season of The Clone Wars on DVD. Every summer I trawled the internet looking for news from Star Wars Celebration or San Diego Comic Con about the next season – trailers, clips, plot details, whatever I could find.

When the show was initially cancelled following the purchase of Lucasfilm by Disney, I was devastated. This show had such a staple of my life that the idea that it wasn’t going to be coming back hurt. As I started looking around at online Star Wars fandom to find someone, anyone, who felt the same way that I did, I discovered #SaveTheCloneWars, and joined the campaign. Through that first year after the plug was pulled, I wrote to Disney asking them to continue the show. I signed fan petitions and made posts on Facebook. It was my first real engagement with the wider online fandom.

Then came The Lost Missions and the Clone Wars Legacy releases – Crystal Crisis, Son of Dathomir, Dark Disciple… Having more Clone Wars stories helped soften the pain of the show’s loss, but the story still felt incomplete. Hearing about future arcs that had been planned for the show only added to the sense of incompleteness, knowing that there were more stories we didn’t get to see. When rumors had begun circulating about an animated Star Wars show set post-Clone Wars, resolving unanswered questions of The Clone Wars was at the top of my wish list for a future Star Wars show.

When Rebels was announced I was cautiously optimistic. I didn’t want to get attached to a new set of characters when the loss of Ahsoka and Rex and my other Clone Wars favorites still felt so raw. After Dave Filoni and the production crew of Rebels posted videos introducing the crew of the Ghost and the core cast of Rebels I reluctantly became more interested, I still was cautious about investing my time in this new show out of fear that it too would be ripped away from me without a proper conclusion just like The Clone Wars was.

So, when the final episode of Rebels’ first season confirmed that the mysterious Fulcrum was none other than Ahsoka Tano I was out of my seat cheering. There were still questions I needed answered about what happened to her after she left the Jedi Order, but the fact that she was there, back on my TV screen once more, was a relief. And when I watched the first trailer for Season 2 a month later, the words “My name is Rex,” made me scream and cry. I was overcome with tears of joy knowing that not only would my favorite Jedi be appearing in Rebels but my favorite Clone Trooper as well.

By the time Rebels’ first season had ended, I was getting ready to graduate from high school and planning where I would go to college in the fall. Taking art electives in high school, particularly a computer art class during the airing of Season 5, made me appreciate just how beautiful the show’s art style was, and when the time came for me to plan where I wanted to go to college, I chose schools that had programs for animation. I had originally wanted to be a game designer because of Kingdom Hearts, but The Clone Wars made me realize that the passion I truly wanted to make a career out of was animation.

I continued to follow Rebels as I went off to college, and by the end of Season 3 – with Maul dead for good, Ahsoka MIA, and Rex and Hondo as the only major Clone Wars characters left on the show – I had gotten attached to the Rebels characters as well. I was just as invested in their fates as I was for those of Clone Wars characters like Rex and Hondo. Season 4 finished airing at the end of my junior year, and the knowledge in the final five episodes that Ahsoka had not only survived her confrontation with Anakin at the end of Season 2 but that she was still alive years after the events of the original trilogy had me crying tears of joy as I went to sleep.

The trailer announcing the return of The Clone Wars had me in tears for hours. Long had I been dreaming of the remaining stories of this show being released in some form. I would have been content with more novels and comics like Son of Dathomir and Dark Disciple, but to have the show return in animated form was a miracle I had given up hope for years ago.

But within the last twelve months, my interest in Star Wars cooled.

I was never the biggest fan of the movies. Revenge of the Sith was my favorite because in the absence of a proper conclusion it functioned as a de facto finale to The Clone Wars. I enjoyed the original trilogy, but they weren’t movies I considered my favorites. I saw The Force Awakens and The Last Jedi in theaters and cried on my first viewing of both films, but on repeat viewings the magic of them faded and I lost interest. While I could understand why other fans liked them, there was a spark that was missing from most of the movies released under Disney that prevented them from really having any staying power for me.

And then The Rise of Skywalker came out and completely shattered any expectations I had that Disney really knew what they were doing with the franchise. Where before I was willing to trust that there actually was a plan because of how precisely Rey and Ben Solo’s arc followed the path of the Heroine’s Journey across The Force Awakens and The Last Jedi, now I realize that what I initially believed to have been a carefully planned narrative arc was most likely JJ Abrams planning to set up a conventional Hero’s Journey which Rian Johnson used to try and tell a Heroine’s Journey instead. And even if there was a plan for Rey and Ben Solo that got screwed around by behind the scenes conflicts, there was clearly no plan as far as Poe and Finn and Rose were concerned.

For months after this, I started questioning and doubting my love of all the canon Star Wars media. How could I enjoy anything in the Original and Prequel trilogy eras knowing that all the hard work of dismantling Palpatine’s empire would be undone in order to rehash the same plotline with new characters and no concern given for whether the audience could follow what was happening or why these events and character decisions mattered if they hadn’t read every comic and novel and played every video game connected to this era.

Since the last trailer for the final season of The Clone Wars went up on YouTube, I vacillated between enthusiastically sticking to the shows I loved regardless of my problems with the film saga, and abandoning the franchise altogether and gifting my Clone Wars and Rebels Blu-Ray sets and associated novels to my college friend who had just gotten into Star Wars.

And then ‘The Phantom Apprentice’ Happened.

Ahsoka and Maul’s two-part duel in the throne room and the rafters of Sundari reminded me of everything I loved about The Clone Wars in the first place. The animation. The art style. The music. The attention to detail on every character and in every detail. The tragedy of what was to come. On my third re-watch of the third-to-last episode of Season 7, that was when I realized that despite my problems with the Sequel Trilogy, despite the many flaws in the writing of the Prequel movies, I could never give up on The Clone Wars, or on Rebels. These two shows have meant too much for me to ever walk away from either of them.

I have cried at least ten times in the last five days watching the final two episodes of The Clone Wars. The final of this incredible series was such a gut punch even though I knew what was coming and who would survive. I had and saw so many ideas about what the last episode would include. Would their be a montage of all the Jedi who survived Order 66 as a mirror of the death montage in Episode III? Would Ahsoka and Rex receive Obi-Wan’s recorded message from Rebels warning surviving Jedi to stay away from the temple?

But in the end, none of those things happened. The focus of the episode remained on Ahsoka and Rex. Their escape from the ship. The tragedy of their inability to save the other clones. And ending with a shot of Vader finding the ship some time later, all these symbols of the Republic buried beneath the winds of time as the empire rises. It was bleak and depressing and when the credits rolled I was holding back tears. But looking back on the entire series and the era of the war, knowing what was coming, there was no other way I could have expected it to end. The audience already knows that this is not the end, but Ahsoka and Rex don’t know that, and so the finale of The Clone Wars reflects this. The pain and despair. The tragedy and confusion over what will happen next. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Despite all the movies I’ve watched; the comics and novels I’ve read; the video games I’ve played; very few things in Star Wars canon or Legends have been able to match the magic of The Clone Wars in my heart. I have never truly been a Star Wars fan so much as I have been a Clone Wars and Rebels fan. The novels and comics and movies I enjoy are an extension of my love for the shows, but the shows will always come first. The characters these shows introduced have stuck with me more than any characters from the movies ever has. Clone Wars made me love Anakin and Obi-Wan and Padme and Yoda, but to me, my Star Wars favorites have always been Ahsoka, Maul, Rex, Ventress, Fives, Hera, Zeb, Thrawn, Sabine, and all the rest.

So, I just wanted to say thank you to Dave Filoni, Ashley Eckstein, Matt Lanter, Catherine Taber, James Arnold Taylor, Sam Whitwer, Nika Futterman, Dee Bradley Baker, as well as every single person involved in bringing this show to live for all the hard work and passion you have poured into this series. Your work on this show shaped the person I am today, and I look forward to seeing what you do next.

May the Force Be With You.

tagged by @kabeswaters !!!! love u big time

1. on a scale of 1-10, how excited are you about life right now? .... 3

2. describe yourself in a hashtag? #onedirectionstan

3. if you could do a love scene with anyone, who would it be? gross Harry Styles

4. if your life was a musical, what would the marquee say? get ready for disappointment but the good thing is one direction would be to my musical as abba is to mamma mia

5. what’s one thing people don’t know about you? i have strong ambitions but they are outweighed by executive dysfunction so lots of adults like teachers just think I'm lazy 🤪🥴

6. what’s your wake up ritual? currently it's get up at 2pm, look at discord, snapchat, and instagram, then eat some gosh darn food

7. what’s your go to bed ritual? this is so unhealthy I know grab a snack and a soda and scroll mindlessly on social media until I get tired, get up and brush my teeth, go back to my bed and put on my sleep playlist (called sleeby) and set a time so it stops playing after I fall asleep

8. what’s your favorite time of day? despite the fact that I get up in the afternoon, it's actually like 10am that's a goooood time

9. your go to for having a good laugh? I look up Niall Horan laugh complications it genuinely works every time

10. dream country to visit? Germany or Italy

11. what’s the biggest surprise you’ve ever had? my 19th birthday my roommates had a surprise party for me and I was so shocked and almost cried bc it was so sweet and bc made me anxious

12. heels or flats/sneakers? I thought that said heelys :(( but sneakers

13. vintage or new? vintaaaage

14. who do you want to write your obituary? uh idk hopefully none of my current family bc I don't want to die before them cause that'll mean I die young??? this question is making me overthink so I'm just gonna say Ewan Gregor and move on

15. style icon? this chick named mathilda on Instagram you might have seen her on insta or Pinterest she's a redhead but her style is brilliant

16. what are three things you cannot live without? music, dr. pepper, eggos

17. what’s one ingredient you put in everything? I sound so white but SALT I salt the heck outta everything

18. what 3 people living or dead would you want to make dinner for? Steve Irwin, Harry Styles, Freddie Mercury

19. what’s your biggest fear in life? dying while I'm taking a shower and having my family find my naked, wet, dead body falling out of love. which makes me not want to fall IN love bc then the chance of falling OUT of love becomes a possibility

20. window or aisle seat? window window window window window

21. what’s your current tv obsession? not really obsessed with anything rn but I rewatch new girl every chance I get

22. favorite app? instagram

23. secret talent? I can wiggle my ears

24. most adventurous thing you’ve ever done in your life? i flew to New Orleans during a break with two of my friends bc they found $60 round trip tickets. We bought the tickets the day before. We literally got to NOLA at 7am and left 8pm the next day. only spontaneous/adventurous thing i have ever done

25. how would you define yourself in three words? funny, understanding, quiet

26. favorite piece of clothing you own? my overalls :'))

27. a must have clothing item that everyone should have? a jean jacket !! looks good on anyone and with anything and they're so cute

28. a superpower you would want? to make people see themselves as their loved ones see them

29. what’s inspiring you in life right now? music I'm fixated on one direction and harry styles and louis tomlinson rn of you cant tell by a lot of my answers

30. best piece of advice you’ve received? don't apologize because you like something. don't be embarrassed that you have preferences

31. best advice you’d give your teenage self? be unapologetically you. life is too short to feel guilty for having opinions.

32. a book everyone should read? me and earl and the dying girl

33. what would you like to be remembered for? being kind to all

34. how do you define beauty? kindness, humor, a sweet soul makes a beautiful person

35. what do you love most about your body? I think I'm proportional? like... my size and shape... I hate how that sounds but my overall body ,,,,,,,

36. best way to take a rest/decompress? crack open and nice cold soda and put on headphones and lay on the ground (it makes me back feel better)

37. favorite place to view art? art galleries the environment and ambiance is immaculate

38. if your life was a song, what would the title be? Everything is Outta Reach cause I fail a lot but also I'm sHORT

39. if you could master one instrument, what would it be? pianoooo

40. if you had a tattoo, where would it be? I want my forearms to be filled with random little doodle tattoos I get over time (picture louis tomlinsons right arm, like the "oops!" and skateboard, and dumb things like that)

41 dolphins or koalas? KOALAS

42. what’s an animal that represents you? .....koala. also chameleon...

43. best gift you’ve ever received? so I need to be hugging a pillow or stuffed animals to sleep and I lost some stuffed animals that I loved and were huge and my go to for hugging at night and that Christmas my brother got me a huge elephant and a body pillow to replace them and I actually cried

44. best gift you’ve given? im really bad at giving gifts but my brother searches everywhere for this book in specific print and language and after years I found one and got it for him for Christmas. he's not good at showing appreciation and excitement but I could tell that he was stoked

45. what’s your favorite board game? BETRAYL AT THE HOUSE ON THE HILL it's so complicated and so good and I love it so much

46. what’s your favorite color? yellow and red

47. least favorite color? o r a n g e I just realized it's between red and yellow make it make sense

48. diamond or pearls? diamonds

49. drugstore makeup or designer? drugstore! I don't wear makeup often enough to spend money on designer but occasionally I get some good stuff from ulta then immediately regret it and go back to my Walgreens makeup HAHA

50. pilates or yoga? yoga

51. coffee or tea? I don't drink either but I like the aesthetic of tea more

52. what’s the weirdest word in the english language? pneumonoultrascopicsiliconvolcanoconoiosos because it's the longest word in the English dictionary and it's has a very specific definition and it's so extra when I was 7 i had a friend who could spell it forwards and backwards

53. dark chocolate or milk chocolate? milk!! I only like dark chocolate if it's reisens

54. stairs or elevators? stairs I'm afraid of elevators

55. summer or winter? summer

56. you are stuck on an island, you can pick one food to eat forever without getting tired of it, what would you eat? mac and cheese

57. a dessert you don’t like? uhhhh... umm... uh... anything with tree nuts cause I'm allergic??? I love dessert

58. a skill you’re working on mastering? I'm learning guitar !!

59. best thing to happen to you today? I woke up before 2pm

60. worst thing to happen to you today? my family all decided to a be in a bad mood today so that's super exciting to deal with :))))))

61. best compliment you’ve ever received? that I'm a really good listener

62. favorite smell? candles right after they're blown out and the air outside when it's cold. it has a smell. it DOES.

63. hugs or kisses? hugs

64. if you made a documentary, would it be about? the one direction boys' solo careers and eventual reunion when it happens

65. last piece of content you consumed that made you cry? if that includes music, louis tomlinsons album walls. but if not, ehm the martian that movie makes me cry don't come for me

66. lipstick or lipgloss? lipstick

67. sweet or savory? savory

68. girl crush? lily james

69. how do you know you’re in love? I've been trying to figure that out... I think it's when everything reminds you of them and you can completely be yourself around them and feel a sense of home and belonging.

70. a song you can listen to on repeat? greyhound by calpurnia or baby driver by simon and garfunkel

71. if you could switch lives with someone for a day, who would it be? h a r r y s t y l e s I have questions I need answered and I wanna hear unreleased HS and 1D music

72. what are you most excited for/about this time in your life? going back to school so I can be with my best friend slash future boyfriend

tagging: @lupinlongbottom @outerlacy @fortisfiliae @theseuscmander @wizardwritings