#fuck the star wars chronological system
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rewatching the star wars movies (by date released, not my choice) and I completely forgot how much a twink Luke is in the first movie particularly
#luke skywalker#star wars#fr#i dont say this lightly#ive asked several peoples opinions#this is true#a new hope#thats the 4th one right?#fuck the star wars chronological system#easy to understand#hard to referance
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The Flower That Bloomed Nowhere Read-through | Part 1: Chapters 1-14
Part 1: 1-14 | Part 2: 14-22 | Part 3: 22-34 | Part 4: 34-64 | Part 5: 64-80 | Part 6: 81-90 | Part 7: 90-100 | Part 8: 100-127 (caught up here)
Hi!!!! I've been reading through this webnovel after seeing @ot3's pitch for it and started writing down some thoughts on the characters and worldbuilding and imminent murdering. This story is very, very long and I only reacted up to about chapter 33, so most of my thoughts will involve the worldbuilding and less the murder mystery aspect -- so if you're looking for theorizing you won't find much of that here. Since I'll be continuing eventually, I wanted to post what I did make note of to revisit later!
Most of these are not marked by chapter/section because I was lazy and I'm not sure how easy it will be to follow as a result, but everything is chronological.
everyone here is hijabi mashallah
The visual I'm getting of the solar system/local system/dimension they inhabit is kind of a blend of steampunk and fantasy and uhh some secret third thing. With the walls of their "universe" painted in that puella dollhouse witch lair style. Does the sun bounce around like a screensaver. Does it orbit their earth or is it on a fixed axis flung out into “space”? Does “space” even exist anymore? I’m assuming they’re in an enclosed area that they've created. Do they actively use arcane resources to keep objects (ie star and planets) sustaining themselves, or have they made them self sufficient?
everyone is so mean to Ptolema leave her alone what the fuckk let a bimbo live i want to kill you all you’re so annoying. Ptolema I WOULD be your friend and not ask all these weird ass questions. and we would hold hands and skip and giggle
Yes shes an airhead nepo baby but you guys could try doing anything other than snickering and rolling your eyes whenever she says stupid shit. If she starts arguing back about government war crimes during the Revolution or something then you have my blessing to beat her ass!
I HATE kamsurepa i HATE her i HAYE Her and her stupid ass name
Ran and Su have no chemistry its insane that theyre always hanging out every conversation is like uhhh (awkward silence) (rude comment from Ran) *Su voice* wow she gets me so well. every time they talk im like what the fuck just happened.
Su’s internal narration is too self aware for me. it’s like she talks like she knows she’s a character? or something. it's self-deprecating in a very bizarre way
im sorry i don’t know if i can continue with this. i know too many med students irl and these characters are literally pissing me off. compliments to the author for realism you knocked it out of the park
Oh, thank you very much!" Kam said, reverting back to her smiley-diplomatic form for a moment before stepping away from the counter and continuing as she handed us the cards. "...as far as it seems to me, the desire to reproduce is essentially an immature form of pursuing life-extension - this idea that you'll 'live on through your children' that's patently pseudo-mysticism justifying what is ultimately an animal instinct."
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I’m going to grab her ginger head and swing her around like bowser in mario 64. SHUT UPPPPP SHUT UP please tell me shes the one that dies
You know," I mused idly, my eyes wandering. "I think this is actually the fourth glass ceiling I've seen today."
"Mm, it's true that you don't see a lot of women working in Aetheromancy,"
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I know this is a small nitpick but aren’t we really far into the future why do they keep using terms like this 😭 gendered stuff like this still exists billions? trillions? of years into the future?
Why has the disco elysium skill tree randomly started talking to su. Is this her future self nagging her. Is she pulling a han sooyoung. when do we get to the various utsushikome ego deaths
"prosognostic overlap"…do ppl repeat faces? Are most people cloned at this point? What triggered the need for cloning surely medicine is advanced enough that childbirth or test tube babies are feasible? Can bodies be cloned and reinhabited to inhibit aging? Is there some disturbing psychological element to seeing someone with the same face as you? Does it make your brain short circuit? Kam mentioned having children earlier which I assume means people still give birth or have test tube babies, so i don’t know if it’s the result of cloning…but it does sound like a sameface sort of thing. What else would it be if not that though?
Actually, if they’ve figured out teleportation (whatever it was called when they went up the aetherbridge) - let's say they can atomize a body and reforming it elsewhere (though we don't know for sure yet, could also be a fold in spacetime) - transferring consciousness to an empty clone of yourself (and therefore effectively doing away with aging or death wholesale) sounds a lot more efficient and technologically practical than maintaining an organic system that naturally decays. Why keep on finding ways to push the human body past its limits when you could simply transfer a person to a new, identical vessel?
I feel like the key to immortality isn’t maintaining an organic body, which naturally tends towards systems of entropy (being a biological thing, entropy=decay), but rather delineating and separating human consciousness from its host and replicating its original environment perfectly. I’m not talking about making a copy of consciousness, which is just glorified cloning - I’m talking about *transferring* a consciousness.
You could almost call dementia itself the mind's tendency towards its own kind of entropy?
Though if you transfer a consciousness to a younger body, the dementia issue could still potentially remain. Depends on if it the author sees it as a solely physical phenomena (atrophy/buildup of inhibitors of the brain) or there's some metaphysical anomaly about amassing too many memories/"existing" too long in general
The way spellwork is described is really cool and feels super believable. Optimizing multiple concurrent spells into one “function” is intricate and sophisticated, and you have to dedicate a lot of brainpower to doing the math in your head. It’s like they’re coding the real world. I love the way lurina describes this it's awesome.
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Fic qs: 3, 40, 65?
3. Describe the creative process of writing a chapter/fic
For one-shots it's usually an idea for a scene or even a line of dialogue that I end up building the whole thing around, which is to say I have no fucking plan whatsoever and I'm just winging it. For long fics I need more of an outline or I'll die, but I also don't write in order so my WIP docs are basically a bunch of separate scenes in more or less chronological order which I connect together as a go. Which isn't really a good system. I need a better process but I'm still figuring things out as I go in terms of writing something long.
As far as chapters go, I mostly just write until I think I've reached a good stopping point. I don't really write to a specific word count or anything like that because the content is more important than having an even length for each chapter IMO..... all that being said, I do not recommend my creative process to anyone under any circumstances ever. 🥴
40. If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see?
I THINK ABOUT THIS CONSTANTLY and I have like soooo many moments from my long fic that I would love to commission at some point, but I feel like I should probably at least publish them first. 🫠 But there's a campfire scene (these bitches sure love a campfire huh) fairly early on with Eivor and Leofrith that would be a nice to have illustrated, and I would also kill to have someone draw Leofrith's Hidden One look as it exists in my head.
Unrelated to the long fic, I neeeeeed Eivor with the darksaber from the Star Wars au. I need it. That fic also has a lot of vision/dream sequences in mind that I think would lend themselves to some really cool art. I think all my fics would be illustrated if I had any artistic ability whatsoever. :(
I should also mention that beloved @sarma did a bunch of art inspired by my concept for a post Mando s2 fic that, if I'm being realistic, will probably never see the light of day. But they still make me fucking crazy when I look at them :))
65. Tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project
I answered this one here! But I'm also going to add the little one shot that has been percolating in my brain ever since I finished the Dead Kings DLC for AC Unity. I need to write more about Arno and Leon and their accidental little found family. And I will. 🤪
send me a number!
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Krafter Lore Masterpost
This is mostly just for people in the Eternal Afterparty server, but if anyone ever asks what's wrong with me, I can send them this post as an explanation. Here's, in roughly chronological order, a bunch of my lore
Part of my right ribs is just caved in for some reason. I have no clue why
When I was little I accidentally swished with water from a cup that had previously been used to hold water from our septic system (THE CUP WAS EMPTY AND DRY WHEN I FOUND IT AND THE WATER I SWISHED WITH WAS FROM THE TAP, I guess it just hadn't been cleaned because it was a plastic lego star wars cup). After my dad told me this, I freaked out because I thought I was going to get very sick/die. I vividly remember eating milk and graham crackers while very upset that night
One time I was watching All Hail King Julien while nauseous, and when Mort threw up in the show, it caused me to also throw up
I went to a trampoline park for some kid's birthday party, and they were putting this gas into the air to keep the park clean. It smelled bad, and it made me dehydrated. I also couldn't find the ingredients of it, so that was concerning
I dreamt I was in a McDonalds and slowly going further and further into the future of the McDonalds, eventually the McDonalds was in a creepy and evil forest and all the food sucked
I dreamt that I found Spamton and kept him as a pet, hiding him under my bed and giving him a laptop to scam people with
I dreamt that I went up and talked to some guy, and upon talking to him, the world around me faded and he said something about reality. Then I walked into a school gynasium and did some weird dark magic, which consumed and killed 8 people as part of a sacrifice. The dark magic that ate(?) them formed a big pillar, and then the pillar opened up, and the fucking Among Us imposter walked out of it. I killed 8 people in a sacrifice ritual so I could become an Among Us Imposter (Also Lulu thought I was hallucinating this because I think I forgot to mention it was a dream)
The Haunted Ring. I've already talked about this one so much, ask one of my friends about it
I dreamt that a tiny version of Scourge (Like about as high as my ankle) showed up in my room and started running around, so I trapped him under a cup and then released him outside
I went to a mini-golf course and had a pretty horrible time for several reasons. 1, it was like a hundred degrees out and there was no shade, so I was melting in the sun. 2, after finishing the golf and probably almost getting heatstroke, I got my mom to buy me so lemonade. I drank half the bottle, but it tasted funny, and then I realized that it had been expired for 3 years. I got bored, so I went over to some guy sitting on a bench to give him advice about the expired lemonade, but I stopped myself right after I began talking because I realized the guy was THE OWNER OF THE GOLF COURSE, WHO I HAD JUST BOUGHT SAID LEMONADE FROM LIKE 10 MINUTES AGO. I ran back into the golf course and hid on it because I was so embarrassed, even though I had stopped myself in time
Some anon last year kept asking me why Tails was full of love, like 4 times. They stopped sending in the asks after I said "Because he has love stored in his tails"
I got an anon saying "Krafture the flag" who I talked to for some time, and eventually found out who it was (It was Mikey and one of his friends)
I watched the entirety of Death Note in one day, I started watching it at about midnight while playing Minecraft, and kept going until I reached the end of the first half (Where L died) because I felt like I was going to die. After waking up at 2 PM, I ate some delicious fast food chicken and watched the second half. It turns out that I missed two entire episodes, though, which I watched several days later
I think that's all of the major ones, I am very tired right now though so I almost definitely forgot a few. Oh well
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Like do you guys understand what I mean when I say Eichi is interesting. Are we on the same wavelength re: what makes a character interesting.
Eichi during the War is like a prime example of a machiavelist character, where the ends justify the means. His motivation was love for idols - positive. His end goal was to reform Yumenosaki so that those who are serious about being idols can achieve their full potential and those who aren't won't take those who would have's spot - positive. His means, however? Morally - terrible. Narratively? Great. Because his appointing of the Five Eccentrics, the step-by-step "execution" of each one, making up new grading systems, forming and disbanding units, it all served to not only set the scene for the Revolution and give the main story a Reason to happen, it further provided character's motivations, it started or caused character arcs, developments to Literally Everything Else. Nothing in enstars would have happened if Eichi went any other way about it. Like, I'm terrible at explaining, but you guys understand me, yeah? It Had To happen exactly in that way otherwise Nothing in the narrative that came chronologically after that could have happened.
Everything in Ensemble Stars goes right back to the War, to Eichi's love for idols, to Eichi's fucked up methods.
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If you're publishing actual books then here's a tip:
Make sure the titles of your books are fucking relevant and memorable.
Exibit A of what not to do: The Murderbot Diaries.
The name for the whole series? Great. Descriptive. Can't be confused with anything else or easily forgotten.
The names for each individual story? Terrible.
They are, in chronological order (not publishing order), and the I only reason I know their names is from googling it despite having read each of these stories 4+ times now. This doesn't include the super short stories like the prequel or what I call book 4.5
All Systems Red
Artificial Condition
Rogue Protocol
Exit Strategy
Fugitive Telemetry
Network Effect
None of these titles are actually relevant to the story they tell in any meaninful, memorable way. I have read these books 4+ times now, and the only one whose title I can match up with its order is literally the first one, All Systems Red, because it's literally the first one.
The rest??? If you sent me a title at random I'd have no fucking clue which one it is or what happens in it!
These titles were very blatantly just chosen to follow a theme and sound cool and technological, and like,,,,,,that doesn't fucking work if you actually want people to be able to remember which one is which.
Let's compare this to another of Martha Wells' series, where she actually gives them memorable, meaningful titles!!!
The Cloud Roads
The Serpent Sea
The Siren Depths
The Edge of Worlds
The Harbors of the Sun
All of these titles are descriptive and relevant and meaningful to the story they tell! Once you read them, and hear the name, you're going to know exactly which one is which and what happened in it!
When picking a title for your books, do not just fucking pick some random words that sound cool but have nothing to do with your story! Even All Systems Red is kind of a fucking weird title for the story it actually tells. It sounds way more dramatic than it warrants.
None of The Murderbot Diaries book titles are actually descriptive or memorable in relation to the story they tell. Literally what in the fuck do the words "Rogue Protocol" have to do with the events of the third book??? If the title of your story requires readers to bend over backwards and reach for the farthest edges of their imagination to fit the title to the story, your title fucking sucks.
Your title is meant to do multiple things, including at its most basic, identify the story it tells. It has to be relevant and fitting with the theme of your story. The Cloud Roads does this. It's evocative, it's memorable, it's relevant, even if not literally.
Rogue Protocol does none of these things. Network Effect does none of these things. None of the titles for The Murderbot Diaries evoke anything of the story they tell.
This also applies to The Animorphs, but the Animorphs are absolute shit in every other way possible, so that's not surprising.
They are entirely and completely forgettable. And that's a problem, because literally the entire point of the title is that people remember and are able to identify it.
The titles could work if they were all just like,, normal short stories being published as a compilation. Like chapter titles. But they're not, they're separate books being sold by themselves.
More examples of titles that do their job correctly:
The Golden Compass
The Subtle Knife
The Amber Spyglass
All three of these titles are memorable and identifiable and relevant to the story they tell!
The Crystal Star
the only Star Wars book's name that I can ever remember off the top of my head. A major part of the plot is--you guessed it--a crystalized star!!!!
TLDR:
The title for your published book needs to be memorable and relevant, not just random cool sounding words!
#writing tips#writing advice#Rjalker reads The Murderbot Diaries#Rjalker reads The Books of The Raksura#And like Martha Wells did this with The City of Bones too.#like that title is useless.#yes there's some random offhand not actually relevant lore of people using bones#to tell fortunes.#but that is not actually relevant to the plot or important#there's no epidemico f people being murdered for their bones#it's a bad title#it coudl have worked if that was the name of a SERIES set within the same city#but it's literally just the one book that has next to nothing to do with using bones to tell the future!!!#so it's literally just there to sound cool and be irrelevant
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Movie Night
peter parker x reader
w/c: 0.7k
warnings: one lil suggestive joke but its all fluff
summary: You and Peter have a movie night
a/n: let me know what you think <3
masterlist
"I got the popcorn in the microwave, did you pick out a movie yet?" You asked as you walked into Peter's room, in which Peter was sitting on his bed with his computer out.
"No, I can't decide between Ferris Bueller's Day Off and Clue, what do you want?" Peter replied. You and Peter recently decided that you would watch one movie from each decade, tonight being 80's, each Friday, because Friday was always May's late day so Peter and you would have the apartment all to yourselves.
"What no Star Wars suggestions tonight? You always ask to watch them." You crossed your arms and Peter just rolled his eyes, "If were to watch Star Wars in chronological order, The Phantom Menace came out in the 90's and if we were to watch it in release order A New Hope came out in the 70's. And I don't want to start with the second or third ones. Isn't obvious?" You and Peter laughed and you sat down next to him on the bed, "No but seriously what do you want to watch?"
"Hmmmm, let's watch Ferris Buller, I already know how Clue ends." You smiled teasingly and Peter placed his hand behind your head and pulled you in for a kiss. You both smiled into the kiss, it was messy and may not be even considered a kiss, but it was fun and sweet.
*Beep* *Beep*
You pulled away and Peter jokingly frowned, "I'll get the popcorn and you set up the movie, 'k?" Peter nodded and as you got up your heard a faint, 'I can't believe I got cocked block by fucking popcorn', from Peter which made you bite back a laugh.
You quickly opened the microwave and then opened the popcorn bag and poured the popcorn into the bowl. You quickly took a handful of popcorn and ate it as you walked back towards Peters room.
When you went through the door you saw Peter snuggly under the covers. When he noticed you standing in the door way, he lifted half of the covers and you slid in next to him. He pressed play on his laptop and you handed him the bowl.
As you watched the movie, you both made commentary on the plot and the characters, and your hands brushed up against each others a lot and it made Peter blush like a middle schooler.
Once the movie was done Peter reluctantly got up and gave you a quick kiss on the cheek, "I'm gonna clean and put the bowl away, I'll be right back." You hummed in response and tried to work up the courage to actually get up and get changed into your pj's.
Peter was back surprisingly quickly and practically pulled you out of bed. "Come on darling, you need to get up." You got up and peter went over to his closet and pulled out an oversized shirt of his and tossed it to you. "I'll be in the bathroom, just knock when your done."
You turned around and got changed into the super oversized shirt. You knew that the shirt was big on Peter but you didn't realize how big. It was practically a nightgown on you, but as unflattering as it might've been on you, it smelt like Peter which always made you happy.
You've probably have stolen at least 5 sweatshirts from Peter but they have all lost his scent. You and Peter did have a system where you take a few of his sweatshirts, make them smell like you, then give them back to Peter, and the cycled continued. You believed that this the most clique and embarrassing couples thing you both do, but honestly you really did not care, Peter had amazing taste in comfy sweatshirts so Mj's eye roll that she gave you was completely worth it.
You knocked on the bathroom door and Peter swung it open, "all yours, lovely" You moved to do your nightly routine and Peter switch places with you, "I'll meet you in bed." Peter kissed you again and left.
A short time later you left the bathroom and headed to Peters bed. As you entered his room, a small light on his bed side table was on and you could see Peters passed out face and his arms and legs all sprawled out. You gave a light laugh and turned the light off and crawled into the bed. You had too lightly shove Peter to the side which must of slightly woken him up, because he wrapped his arms around you. "Night love."
"night Peter."
#peter parker fanfic#peter parker#peter parker blurb#peter parker x reader#peter parker x reader blurb#peter parker x reader fluff#peter parker x y/n#peter parker x y/n blurb#peter parker x y/n fluff#peter parker x you fluff#peter parker x you#peter parker x you blurb#peter parker fanfiction#peter parker fluff#spiderman#spiderman fluff#spiderman blurb#starryspidey blurb
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Hello and welcome back to Krax Rewatches. Tonight I am rewatching Episode I : The Phantom Menace for two reasons. Firstly, I wasn’t able to consume any Star Wars media on actual Star Wars Day this past week (tragic I know). And secondly, I needed a hit of that sweet sweet nostalgia. So let’s jump in.
• Obi Wan deadass called Jar Jar a “this”. As in “What’s this?” To which Qui Gon replies “A local”…. Qui Gon please control your angsty teenager, referring to other intelligent species as “it” or “this” or “that” is kinda shitty
• Fully forgot that R2 D2’s introduction to the Star Wars franchise (chronologically) is him saving Padmè and Co. from being shot down in a space battle. Way to go R2
• Seeing Tatooine makes me feel nostalgic because it’s a part of almost every single Star Wars story that means anything to me
• Look. I know baby Anakin catches a lot of hate for being annoying. But I want everyone to shut up and listen for two seconds. He’s 8 years old. And his first thoughts when Qui Gon reveals that they are stranded on Tatooine because they can’t afford to buy the parts they need to fix their ship is this: I can fix it! Please let me help! followed directly by Oh you can’t afford it? Let me go win the money and just give it to you so you can fix your problem! Little Anakin was a good kid. He has a good heart.
• Qui Gon has some otherworldly amount of trust in the Force. This child I met yesterday says he is the “best pilot in the universe” and built a racing class pod that’s “really fast”…. I’m going to bet this ship that doesn’t belong to me, which is the only thing of value that I have against the world of my new child friend
• The wondrous thought of does every star in the sky have it’s own planetary system? Has anyone ever visited all of them? I’m gonna be the first to see them all….
• Midichlorians
• Aura Singh is a spectator of the pod race?! HELLO?
• I wonder how many people lost money by betting that Sebullba would wind? I wonder who got fucking RICH because Anakin won?
• Bib Fortuna… looking crusty as fuck as usual
• “Why do I feel like we’re about to pick up another pathetic life form?” — Obi Wan Oh what you do not yet know Obi, what you do not yet know
• Honestly I feel so hard for Shmi Skywalker. Her son got freed from slavery. But she had to stay. She had to let her son go away to be raised by others for his own betterment and remain in literal slavery. That is fucking tragic….. Having the “Will I ever see you again?” conversation with your mom, the only parent you’ve ever had. At the age of 8. Ouch. Fuck. My heart. Also happy Mother’s Day Shmi Skywalker.
• Look. LOOK. I am not and never have been a Darth Maul kinda gal… but today… I was looking at him a lil different. Please don’t read into this.
• Spotted Jedi that make me Happy! Master Galia, Master Bilaba, MASTER PLO!
• I can’t tell if it was actual Padmè that Anakin saw and spoke to when he went to go say goodbye to her…. But now that I think about it, it most definitely was. The things you don’t notice, when you are also 8 years old and watch a movie
• “Qui Gon Sir. I don’t want to be a problem” Bitch me too
• I like that Padmè’s response to “The senate is taking too long to liberate my people? Fine I’ll fix this myself. I’ll start a war and fight in it myself”
• Laser pointers. The height of espionage
• Qui Gon’s like… well I can’t exactly put my new son in daycare. I guess he’s coming with me to overthrow this invasion force
• Star Wars music fucking SLAPS
• I would like to rescind my previous statement about Darth Maul. My childhood fever dream nightmares of him hiding in my kitchen cabinets have returned. Nice to know that my brain is still scared of the same stupid shit nearly 20 years later
• Not me wondering if Obi Wan blames himself for not being able to run fast enough to pass throw the last laser gate and possibly save Qui Gon’s life
• True Queen shit to keep your royal throne strapped with emergency blasters
• Get him Obi Wan! Fuck him up! Not for revenge purposes obviously
• I’m glad that they made the droids funny in the tv show. These ones are boring :/
• I love these movies so much
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come back home
pairing; the mandalorian | din djarin x female reader
summary; it’s been three years since you’ve seen din after leaving him on a distant planet.
rating; m
warnings; a panic attack, unintentional gaslighting, heavy angst, a bit of light sex (no smut or anything very nsfw), some gunshot wounds, alcohol. don’t worry it’s not all angst there’s some happy stuff.
word count; 11.3k
a/n; so this pops around a lot with timing, but it should be fairly clear. every big line break switches perspectives between din and the reader, and every section is a bit of present and then a flashback. the flashbacks are chronological. also, it’s long. it’s so long.
taglist; @bonkybaaarnes
It was a busy day. People had been wandering in and out of your shop since you turned the sign in the window to ‘Open.’ There probably hasn’t been a span of more than 5 minutes where you didn’t hear the sound of the doorbell tinkling, signaling the entrance of one or more of the planet’s upper echelon, art students, or just interested visitors. Running an art gallery and dealership was possibly one of the most peaceful things you could do during this age of the New Republic. Especially when you lived on a Core World.
An old looking Neimoidian who had been wandering the space for the past hour or so approached your desk.
“That piece there, with the scene from the Clone Wars, how much is it?”
You looked over to where he was pointing. It was one of the larger pieces you had at the time, a beautiful war painting. Realism wasn’t as common anymore. Neither, you supposed, was painting. You got the piece directly from the artist a few months back, entranced by the historic materials and the mastery of the battle scene. It reminded you of your teenage years, back during the war. It was sad to see it go, but you knew you couldn’t keep the pieces and were happy it would have a home.
“Thirteen thousand credits,” You smiled at the man. For the Neimoidians who came and went, your reputation, and the size of the piece, it was a good price. He knew it too. His subtle nod indicated he was interested, and you put the order into your system. One of the gallery droids sprung to life behind you to retrieve the piece from its spot on the wall and bring it to the back room where it would be packaged for shipment. You pulled out a datapad, handing it over to the Neimoidian who began to fill out the credit transfer form.
“Your reputation precedes you,” He mused while typing, “You run a lovely shop here. It’s nice, with the Empire over. Peace, art, business. It’s all flourishing.”
“It is,” You smiled, “it’s great for business.”
“Indeed it is,” He looked up, handing back the datapad with the complete form, “I must thank you, it is a great honor to work with you.”
“The honor is all mine,” you say, reviewing the form. 13,000 New Republic credits. Not good for much outside the Core nowadays, not that you had any plans on leaving.
“I collect war art,” he began, an unusual admission for a Neimoidian, “Honoring those who fought. I just imagine... must be difficult, out there on the battlefield.”
-o-o-o-
“It must be difficult...” the Mandalorian said, startling you from your thoughts. In the 17 hours since you met him, he hadn’t said more than 20 words. “... living job to job, no help.”
You turned to face him, or rather, to look at the small gap in his helmet.
“What do you mean? Isn’t it the same for you?” You got the current job together from some guy in a bar in the backwater outer rim planet you were spending the day on. He said it would be too difficult, too risky to just have one man on the job. Two was insurance.
“I’m a guild member. Who do you have?” You knew he was just trying to make small talk, but it felt like a slap on the face. You had practically nothing. You’d been wandering the galaxy ever since the fall of the empire, nothing to do. Your only skills were fighting, flying, and formulating battle plans. Without a war, you had nothing.
Probably should have joined the guild at some point, you thought to yourself. But that never felt like the right option. You still had your loyalties. And bounty hunters, well, bounty hunters have no loyalties other than the guild. Imperial heads and Rebel ones had the same price if you had the right buyer.
“It’s been this way for a while now, I don’t mind it so much,” you responded. You had only just met the Mandalorian anyways, hadn’t known him long enough where he deserved to know really how you felt. It was still difficult, not spilling out your entire backstory to him, something about the way he cocked his head and the few words he said that let you know he was always intensely listening to you.
You had the feeling that after another 17 hours he would have only racked up another 40 words while you’d have revealed almost every detail of your life. He had that effect on you. Kind of scary if you were to admit it, but you knew in only an hour or so the Razor Crest would be landing and the fight would start and hopefully end in only a matter of minutes and you’d return to the money and go your separate ways. No need to fret over some guy. Even if that guy was a Mandalorian.
Din Djarin had landed the Razor Crest about a 50-minute walk from the city, enough to remember that it had been a year or so since he spent any time traversing tough terrain and began to regret not docking closer.
It was a force of habit. The ship wasn’t registered so it flew under the radar, but any attempt to land at a New Republic port would be dangerous, but he supposed that landing 20 minutes away wouldn’t have been so bad. It didn’t really matter now though, as he was coming up to the first signs of civilization.
He only had a faint idea of where he was headed, somewhere closer to the center, but not too close. With his luck, probably the side of the city furthest from his ship so he’d have to cross through the center if he wanted the quickest route.
The most efficient route used to not matter so much. He used to be able to afford to skirt around the edges. Now, nearing the heart of the city, he was tired enough to know he needed to stop. He’d been walking for over 3 hours.
It was unusual, being on such a populated planet. Everyone moved around him, not sparing him even a glance. He wasn’t used to that at all.
Din saw a small but interesting looking cantina a few doors down and slipped inside. It was filled with smoke and music and laughter. Nothing like the empty-feeling outer rim bars. The people here had all sorts of masks, just not the physical kinds: fake smiles plastered on to fool a lover, guises of aggression formulated purely to intimidate, the facades of disappointment dealt expertly to tug at heartstrings. There was something completely and utterly alive in this place, but that something was also a farce.
A barstool opened up about two-thirds of the way to the back wall, and Din pushed through the crowd to snatch it up. A sleek looking droid slid his way to take his order before gliding back down the bar to help a young couple pay for their drinks.
Another droid showed up in front of him, setting down the hot drink, with a yellow and red swirling appearance, steam rising off the top.
He raised the glass to his mouth, and took a sip, relishing in the feel the alcohol had, instantly spreading through his body, soothing while simultaneously lighting him on fire.
-x-x-x-
Fucking desert planets, Din thought to himself. Somewhere in the galaxy, someone was probably laughing at him: a Mandalorian in the desert. Thick black wool covered with beskar armor had to be the absolute worst combination for a planet made of sand and heat. He had been sitting behind a rock formation for the better part of the day, the local star’s hot light beating down on his body.
The camp was small but Din knew there were at least twelve stormtroopers and two Imperial high-ups. There could be more. He had been watching the four tents all day, and each one could probably hold around 15 people quite comfortably, but his infrared sensors weren’t working well, probably sand lodged in some panel, and he couldn’t figure out how many people he was up against.
The binoculars on his helmet zeroed in on a figure behind the furthest tent. Someone was out there, moving quickly between a couple of rocks. At the same time, one of the tent flaps opened, and a couple of stormtroopers popped out. Din had to break his gaze from the mysterious person and watched the two walk from one tent to the next. He was fairly sure they weren’t new, only the same guys who walked in 30 minutes ago.
Upon arrival at the next tent, one ducked in while the other stood guard. A few seconds passed and then the white helmet peaked out of the tent again, this time followed by another 3, and an Imperial officer. The five troopers flanked the man as he returned to the tent the troopers originally came from.
“What are you doing here?” a voice sounded from his left. Din whipped around while pulling his Amban rifle from his back, pointing at where the voice came from.
It was the fighter from the job back off of Comra. She had leaned back enough to keep her head from being lopped off by the rifle and her hands were up.
“Sorry, Mando, didn’t mean to scare you,” she said, her voice slow and vibrating in her throat.
Din lowered the Amban, and peaked back at the imp tents. There was no activity occurring anymore.
“But seriously, what are you doing here?” she sounded a bit frustrated. Her face was reddening, but he couldn’t tell if it was just the heat. She was slick with sweat, shining in the sunlight. He figured if he had any skin exposed it would look the same. He was sweltering, but couldn’t tell if wearing anything lighter would have helped. His skin hadn’t seen the light in a long time, and a smarter outfit for the heat might just be his downfall.
Din reached into his pocket, pulling out the puck he was working on. He turned it over a few times in his palm before turning it on and holding out the holo to show the woman. The blue bust spun around and her eyes widened.
“It’s him,” she breathed. After a long moment, she broke her gaze from Din’s assignment and looked right at him, “you’re going after him?”
“Yes, if you don’t ruin my chance. He’s in there,” Din gestured over to the tents.
“I know. He’s got a bounty of his own on my head,” the admission took Din by surprise, and he realized that the woman was bowing her head; in shame, frustration, or something entirely different, he couldn’t tell.
“Then why aren’t you running?” he knew it sounded too harsh, but sometimes, rarely, but sometimes, his emotions got ahead of him and he had to ask the burning questions.
“I was. That’s why I’m here,” she said, panting a bit. Where they stood was in direct sunlight, and it was only getting hotter. “I was running from him, planet-hopping, was here for about a week, and the fucker showed up this morning, set up camp less than a kilometer from where I was. I thought I was done for. I was trying to get a good last look at him before I either made it out or was killed, but then I saw you behind the rocks. Figured if I was destined to die, then, well, you were probably here to kill me anyway.”
Din cocked his head, “I’d never take a job from an imp.”
“Well, that’s good,” she said. She attempted to laugh, but the heat was too much and the topic too heavy that it came out more like a couple of shallow breaths before stopping entirely.
The two turned to look at the camp again. Nothing was happening. Din didn’t have too much of a plan until he knew how many stormtroopers he was up against.
“I, uh, I fought for the Rebel Alliance, way back when,” the woman said, still staring at the tents, “I wasn’t even 14 when I joined. When the New Republic formed there wasn’t much left for me. I knew war, and I wanted the imps all gone. I’ve sort of been on the run since, taking out stormtroopers and officers whenever I get the chance. I suppose it all caught up to me.”
“14 is pretty young for a fighter,” Din said, not sure what else to say. He wasn’t used to people being open with him.
“Not where I’m from, it’s not,” and when Din looked over to see her finish the sentence he saw something in her eyes that shook him to the core. Some sort of raw pain and loss and desperation. He was going to kill the commander, and take down anyone else in the damned tent.
An hour and ten minutes before closing you began pre-close procedures, as usual. The shop was mostly empty, save for a couple of Bothans who appeared to be making some final decisions on what pieces to purchase, and a few young faces you had learned belonged to the students who would pop in weekly to see the art, never buying anything. You didn’t mind. Art was meant to be appreciated.
You had made quite a few sales and were satisfied with the day’s profit. Someone bought out almost your entire collection of small prints by a Corellian artist, and you were pleased to have sold the rather violent series of holosculptures, and you already had the droids put a more calming piece in their spot.
A droid began going around sweeping the space, and another was sent to the supply room to start restocking packaging materials that had been used up during the day.
You kept your eyes firmly on the door, feeling like the current inhabitants were fairly safe, no need to worry about any of them harming the art. Or yourself.
This morning, you woke up and turned on the television just in time to see the news reporting on the threats: some unidentified group with a vendetta against anyone who fought for the rebellion. You supposed living on a Core planet, where the New Republic held plenty of power, you should be safe, but that didn’t stop you from wearing your most battle-ready outfit that could still appear formal enough for your store.
The Bothans’ discussion seemed to quiet down when the bell rang again and a tall looking man walked in, dressed in tactical pants and wearing a jacket that could hide any number of weapons. You reached down beneath your desk, hand grasping for the blaster you kept there. You didn’t like the look of the guy.
“I was told this was the place to go if I needed some advice,” the man walked directly towards you, and you inhaled quickly.
“What sort of advice?” you asked.
“My daughter, she likes art, I don’t know what to get for her. She’s getting married next month.”
You dropped your blaster and let your shoulders fall a bit.
“Well, I can certainly help you with that.”
-o-o-o-
Your blaster was pointed directly at the head of one of the guys, finger on the trigger, rage in your eyes. It took less than a quarter of a second to squeeze your hand and the target’s body went limp.
Thwump.
It felt a bit like you had been kicked in the stomach, and whatever it was had you flying through the air for a moment, and sometime during that instant, suspended midair, you felt a brief stinging sensation spread across your lower leg. Then you hit the ground.
Lying there, you watched the blaster fire zoom over you. You couldn’t really feel your leg anymore, so you supposed that was better than feeling whatever had happened.
Your stomach was sore, so was your back. Really, everything hurt. Your vision was a bit foggy around the edges, so you stared up at one of the moons, however faint it appeared in the daylight.
It was admittedly very dumb to accept this sort of job. You had to hand it to Mando, picking out the stupidest shit to get involved in to pay for gas money. The two of you were supposed to be on the run, caring for the Child, staying out of trouble. Not getting shot while being paid to fight for some local clan dispute. There were probably thirty or so fighting. And you two.
You weren’t really sure how much time had passed with you on the ground. All you knew was that wherever you were hit on the stomach hurt more than almost anything you’d ever experienced. The hand clenched over the wound felt slick with what could have been blood, but was maybe just sweat. At some point, the sound of the fighting died down, and the dust began to settle.
A shadow fell over your face as the sunlight was blocked, and you blinked a few times to adjust to the darkness. It was Mando, kneeling next to you.
“I’m fine,” you croak out, knowing fully that it was a lie. Mando probably knew that too, because he pulled your arm off of your stomach. It didn’t take much effort, you didn’t have the energy to protest.
His gloved hands grazed over the wound, gently, and you thought you heard a sound through his modulator that could have been him sucking in his breath. If it had been highly distorted.
“You need to protect yourself more,” he said, roughly.
“I was!” you protested. He was using the same tactic you had used on many others on the battlefield before: outrage the victim so they stay awake long enough to get help. You needed to remind yourself to thank him when you were back on the ship.
Mando’s helmet moved to indicating that he was surveying you for further damage. His gaze stopped at your leg. You know what he’d found. You had begun to suspect it. Blaster fire might not appear too deep, but if set to kill it had a nasty burn that singed off all nerve endings, so you couldn’t even feel the wound as the impact took root deep under the skin.
Suddenly, cool air flooded underneath you and you realized the Mandalorian had scooped you up, cradling you in his arms. He was clearly very strong, but you hadn’t realized how warm he’d feel, even with all the armor on.
Din set down the now empty glass and placed the money next to it. He signaled to the droid that he was done and stood up. Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward, moving through the growing crowd. Big bars and busy planets made him feel much more vulnerable than he was used to, and while the stop was necessary, it was definitely time to leave.
Why the hell did I come here, Din found himself wondering as he felt his panic rising. His step quickened and he became frantic to get out of the establishment.
There were too many people. Too many colors. The sounds were everywhere, people laughing, people talking, someone was singing. He heard the tapping of someone’s fingers on the bar table and the beeping of some sort of device. The live band seemed to be getting louder. Din spun around, no longer sure of where the exit was. His eyes widened and he looked around for some sign of fresh air. He felt like he was suffocating.
Someone walked right in front of him, breathing hot air onto his face. Din gasped, turning, desperate for escape. He was inhaling smoke and alcohol fumes and the stench of sweat and the collision of food from too many different planets. He pushed by whoever was in front of him, and then another, and another. A chorus of protests occurred as he parted the crowd but the division just closed behind him, their faces forgetting him the moment he disappeared.
The light from outside was finally in sight. Din thought he saw a way out but a second later it closed up again. He paused for a moment, trying to breathe as deeply as possible, and out of the corner of his eye he saw it. His reflection.
Din pivoted on his heels to face the mirror. And there he was, face ragged, hair unkempt, facial hair untamed, and above all, it was out there, for anyone to see.
And Din couldn’t help but realize how unappealing he looked. There was safety in keeping his face covered, safety that no longer existed. He didn’t want people to see how he looked. He wasn’t used to the way people judged. The way people look at his face and make assumptions, or worse, read him like a book.
Din’s reflection blinked back at him in unfiltered vulnerability, but his stare was broken as someone else pushed into him, and another walked in front of the mirror.
-x-x-x-
Somewhere in the lower deck the sound of clattering metal rang out along with a stream of expletives, followed by a very prompt, “It’s all good, I’m fine! Everything’s fine!”
Din chuckled to himself, staring off into the emptiness of the Unknown Regions. Thousands of millions of stars without habitable planets. Or with habitable ones, if only the New Republic could touch them.
After visiting every planet in the known galaxy, they hadn’t found a single other creature like the Child. Din looked over at the kid, and it looked back at him, cooing happily. Needing to find its home planet was the only priority, thus the entrance into the Unknown Regions, the lesser explored half of the galaxy.
Din realized he might be the first person looking at some of these stars from this angle, from this distance. The Razor Crest was likely the first ship to pass anywhere near where it was right now.
It was incredibly beautiful.
“Mando!” she called from below, “Food’s ready! You better come down here and eat or I’m gonna rip your helmet off and force feed you.”
“Don’t worry,” Din called back. She had the right to be worried. A few months back she discovered that he wasn’t eating to save rations. They didn’t know how long they’d be out here, didn’t know how long they’d need to make the food last. As soon as she found out, though, running out of food was the least of his worries. She took over all food prep and made sure every day all three of them were eating.
A couple weeks ago they ran across a small habited planet, one of the few ones littering this part of the galaxy, and were able to restock. Even with enough food to last another 6 months in space, Din knew she still worried.
It was nice to have someone who worried about him, not that he would admit that to anyone.
Her head popped into the cockpit, two plates balanced on one hand as she finished scaling the ladder with her other.
“Your plate’s below,” she smiled at him. She said the same thing every day. And she smiled every day, like nothing was wrong or weird about their situation.
Din watched as she set down one plate on the dashboard and knelt with the other in front of the Child and began feeding it. He could tell she had really grown to love the kid. It was sweet to see the two; the kid adored seeing her face, and she was so good at getting it to listen to her.
Din took one last look before jumping down into the lower deck. This was the usual ritual. He would listen to the soft words and sounds exchanged above as he took off his helmet below and began to eat. She knew not to come down until he said so. Din trusted her.
He raised his hands to the sides of his helmet, gently pulled it off, and relished in the feel of the recycled air against his face.
Din loved the feeling without the helmet, but the moments when he got to remove it were rare. Beyond showers, there wasn’t really any time to do it. They slept in too close of quarters to risk taking it off while asleep. The only constant was mealtime.
With a heavy clink the helmet was sitting on the bench next to him, and Din grabbed the plate of food. He ate in silence, as always, listening to the chatter and giggles coming from the cockpit.
Usually this was a pause to eat something, not think too much, and just rest, before getting back to business. What business was when they were floating around aimlessly through unexplored space with no idea where their destination was in the galaxy, Din couldn’t say. But there always seemed to be business.
However, today, when he set down his helmet, it was turned to face him as he ate, and it felt like it was staring right back at him. It was rather menacing. Emotionless. Din felt a chill down his spine as he realized that that was all that anyone knew him by. That was all she saw. Perhaps there was some life in it when a head was inside, but still, that was the face she spent all day staring at.
Din missed being around the other Mandalorians. Seeing all the other masks made it feel like he was a bit more human. Knowing there were other humans doing the same thing. He supposed, though, that the need for a status quo was what made him human.
And, for the first time in years, Din had the urge to climb up to the ladder, helmet left behind, and look at her face to face, take off his gloves, and hold her hand, hold the Child, just touch things with his own skin.
He shook his head as if to try to clear the thought. It scared him, how easily he could break his Creed when left in isolation. He spooned the last bite of the meal into his mouth, and, as quickly as possible, placed the helmet back on his head.
Usually around this time, about 30 minutes before the store closes, the last customer is wandering the rooms, about ready to buy something or leave. Sometimes there’s a final straggler to the end. Maybe, on a holiday, there’s a steady stream and you have to kick people out at closing, but a day like today? A normal day, the middle of the week, nothing special happening? The constant flow of customers was certainly unusual.
It was good for business, and it was nice to talk to the many scholars who had stopped through today, but you were ready to take down the ‘Open’ sign and replace it with the lovely ‘Closed’ one that meant you got to go home.
You desperately wanted to be alone for a bit. You had once gotten completely stir crazy and that want for people led you to this planet. Sometimes you wished you had chosen some Mid Rim planet, but usually that thought was stamped out as you remembered how your stability of life decreased as you furthered from the Core Worlds.
Further out generally meant less New Republic protection, and more potential Imperial influence. As a former fighter who just wanted some peace and quiet, sometimes you had to choose someplace a bit loud.
A young couple burst through the door in a fit of laughter and you looked up to see the two getting rather handsy with each other. It was sweet, and nothing inappropriate enough to deem needing to be broken up. You had paintings more explicit hanging on the walls.
You smiled to yourself at the looks of the other patrons, a mix of disgust, annoyance, and sadness. But there were a few others looking at them with the appreciation of innocent kids in love. Either way, the couple seemed to be there for the art. One pointed at an illustration and the other got incredibly excited, going off chattering about it. The pointer just gazed at the speaker with love in their eyes. No one could be mad at something like that.
-o-o-o-
You lay in one of the small beds, the sheets underneath you disgustingly scratchy and sweaty. You had spent almost a year now on the Razor Crest, drifting through space, and laundry for the sheets was not really a priority for water usage.
You could pretty easily forgive the sheets though, as you were pressed up next to Din, completely naked, sweaty and still slightly shaking in the haze of afterglow. The sex was unforgettable. It was so warm in the ship all the blankets were pooled at the bottom of the mattress. Din’s feet were playing with the fabric lazily.
His condition for this arrangement, starting all those weeks ago, was that you had to be blindfolded, which you couldn’t really complain about. It would have been amazing to take away all restraints and look at Din in the face, but you knew that would never happen, so you figured you’d take what you could get. And the one night turned into two, which turned into so many nights and days you couldn’t even count.
Din’s breath was hot on your neck. His arm curled around your waist, and your back was pressed against his chest. It was something out of a dream. You never once thought you would feel safe and at home enough with anyone to be this vulnerable, but here you were. Din was wrapped around you and you could still feel the ache of him between your legs.
You realized he hadn’t said anything in a while. Ever since you started sleeping together, Din liked to talk. He knew how much you liked hearing his voice without the helmet on. It was a sexy voice, or maybe you just thought anything about him without the armor was sexy because it was so forbidden.
You wriggled a bit and flipped over to face him. Your legs intertwined between his, and you were practically face to face. If you weren’t wearing the strip of black fabric wrapped around your head, his eyes would be right there, staring back at you.
You were a bit jealous of Din. He got to look at you. All of you.
You every day, working around the ship, picking up the Child, singing to yourself or reading on your bed. And these past few weeks, all of you, spread out on his bed, wrapped around him, leaning into him.
All you got were little glimpses of skin when he was careless with his armor or back before the Unknown Regions, when you were both getting injured almost daily, having to patch each other up.
You leaned your forehead against his.
“Din,” you whispered. It still felt like an incredible privilege to get to use that name.
You hand reached up to touch his cheek. He leaned into your touch, and you caressed his face. Your hands felt the curve of his jawbone, the rough brush of a mustache, his soft lips. You trailed over his nose and his brow bones. If you couldn’t see him, you were going to memorize every line and curve of his face. You didn’t know the colors, but you had a pretty good idea of what he looked like.
Your hands joined forces as they moved down his body, first across his neck, then his chest, and his waist, then, teasingly, right back up to his face again. You had him moving slowly in tandem with you.
You rolled your hips into him softly. There was no intention of a round two, you were both too exhausted for that, just the need for him to be closer. To feel him.
“Din, talk to me,” you said, in between soft kisses to his face, “you’re being quiet.”
His hands shot down to your hips, pushing you back. He rolled off the bed. You weren’t sure what to do. You weren’t sure what you did.
There was a thump on the ground that sounded a lot like his shoes. Din was putting his clothes on. You could hear the rustling. Then the hiss the helmet made when he put it on his head. The door opened, but the closing sound never happened. The methodical sound of feet and hands on the ladder came next. He had gone up to the cockpit, leaving you on the bed.
You rolled onto your back, unsure of what to do next.
Usually, Din would tell you when it was good to look. Usually, he would reach around your head with his gloved hands, gently pushing back your hair. Usually, he would carefully untie the fabric, making sure none of your hair got caught. Usually, you would open your eyes to see him with the helmet, and you could always imagine the smile that lay underneath.
You knew he was gone. He had just up and left you in bed. You reached up to remove the blindfold. You blinked a few times to adjust to the light. The cold air drifting around the room reminded you that Din hadn’t even thought to close the door behind him. You looked around for your clothes, finally seeing where he had likely threw them in the heat of things. Slowly, you got dressed.
The fabric of the blindfold was draped over your hands, and you folded it over itself a few times before setting it down in the center of the bed.
Din wasn’t used to planets with this many paved roads. The years on Nevarro and running around the Outer Rim had gotten him used to dirt alleyways and uneven ground. He found himself enjoying the luxury of not having to worry he would twist an ankle. It was helping distract him.
Even outside the bar, it still felt like there were too many people. He was sweating, his legs were shaking, and he was feeling a bit dizzy. After about 5 minutes of walking he wasn’t sure if it was the remnants of the panic attack that were causing the feelings, or the nerves of where he was going.
A friend had told him where he would need to go, right down to the turns to make on every street. He never imagined that when he was this close he would be regretting even coming.
Din shook his head. He took a deep breath in, he only hoped he had the right place.
-x-x-x-
It had been 10 long weeks. Din could count the number of words she had said on his two hands.
Every day he would wake up, and she would be either holed up in her bed, reading or writing, or up in the cockpit, sitting in the pilot’s seat, staring into the galaxy. As soon as she realized he was there, she’d get up, and leave the room. Probably go to the bathroom. She’d spend an hour playing with the Child. Then go through the whole ship, checking for damage. Not that they’d ever sustain anything. They never encountered anyone. Every time they found a planet within the habitable zone, scanners would show it as too dangerous for even the Child to survive.
After scanning the ship, she’d go back to the kid. Then make food. If Din was lucky she’d leave a plate for him. The two times they found a planet to stop, refuel, and stock up, everything was done in silence. Sometimes she’d disappear for an hour, probably just to run and stretch her legs.
He’d often catch her staring at a spot on the wall, tapping her fingers or bouncing her leg. She’d sit like that for impossibly long periods of time. He knew the isolation was getting to her.
Every so often, she’d walk into his room, or up to the cockpit where he was flying, and look like she was about to say something, but stayed silent.
The first week of this, Din blamed himself: if only he hadn’t allowed them to get so close, then he wouldn’t have had to call it off. But in the end, he figured this was inevitable.
Calling their arrangement off was truly for the best. The guilt had increased to an unhealthy level, and Din knew it would eventually kill him.
In just a few weeks, he had broken the Creed so many times. Once or twice, sometimes even three times a day. He swore, years ago, to never take off the helmet in the presence of a living being. Even if she was blindfolded, it didn’t really matter.
Din wrote his own behavior off as just a reaction to the months of loneliness, the lack of other people. He never really considered she would be struggling with the same thing.
The sound of her steps alerted Din to the presence of someone else in his quarters. She stood in the doorway, leaning as if to take another step, but unsure if she could. The Child had followed her down, and was standing at her feet, looking up at her face.
“Refueling. 20 minutes,” she said. Her voice was quiet but hoarse. He supposed that after so much lack of use, that was to be expected. She disappeared back up to the cockpit.
Din got up to see this planet she spoke of. Standing upstairs, the whole universe taking up most of his vision, Din felt it was almost normal. The three of them were there, watching their destination come closer, the Child standing on the dashboard, Din standing silently, and she was sitting, flying the ship with a gentleness rarely experienced.
Down on the surface, the planet was stuck in time. It appeared to be a Galactic Republic station, stuck almost 50 years in the past. Aside from the feeling they were walking around a scene from a documentary, it was practically the same as an Inner Rim planet.
Din wandered around with the Child as she went off to restock on food. He visited shop after shop, asking around if anyone had seen a species like the kid. No luck.
After a few hours, Din walked into a cantina, hoping to find some fresh food for the kid, but upon realizing she was already there, turned around to leave. There was no use trying to talk to someone who had chosen to isolate herself from him for almost 3 months. Before he walked out the door, he couldn’t help but notice the way she was talking, happily and smoothly, smiling at some girl she was sitting next to. She looked almost completely normal again. Din smiled to himself. That was good.
Their other refueling stops had allowed them to stretch their legs, and maybe see about 10 other sentient creatures. They hadn’t gotten proper socialization in over 6 months.
Din returned to the Razor Crest, letting the kid play around in the dirt with some scrap metal lying around at the docking station. He sat on the edge of the open cargo door.
She showed up after a while, boxes in tow, and began loading them back onto the ship. No words were spoken. Din stood up to help, but she just brushed by him.
“Hey,” Din said, desperate for answers as this point, “what’s wrong?”
She froze. She slowly set down the boxes where she was, standing on the deck of the Razor Crest, looking down at Din.
“What.” she said, it wasn’t a question. It was empty.
“What’s wrong with you?” Din shook his head, “You were all excited and normal in the cantina back there. And here, with me, you’re silent.”
It was like a fire had been started, and Din could see it in her eyes.
“Why did you walk away?” she said. It was calm. Too calm, almost deadly.
“What?” it seemed like Din was always the one confused.
“Why did you walk away? We were fine, happy even, and you stood up in the middle of it, and left,” her voice steadily rose as she spoke, by the end she was yelling.
So it was about me, Din realized. “Did you really think we could keep doing that? Being like that?”
“Did I think we could keep doing that? Of course I did! I… I thought we had something, and you just pushed me away!” She had walked down the cargo door, and was now standing in front of Din.
“I had to push you away!” Din yelled, “I couldn’t keep doing that, what we did, I can’t do. I’m not allowed to!”
“You’re not allowed to? What kind of utter bullshit is that?” She spat at him, “We were alone in the fucking galaxy, on your fucking tiny ship, with nothing to do, and you weren’t allowed to? Says who?”
“Says the Creed,” Din was glad he wore a helmet at times like this, so people couldn’t see the tears threatening to spill out. He knew he was losing her, but he wasn’t going to just let her go so easily.
“Your damn Creed isn’t an excuse to just fucking disappear without any explanation, and if it is, than it’s shit... You’re shit,” she was only getting started, Din could feel that. But she insulted the Creed, and she couldn’t get away with that.
“The Creed isn’t just what I follow. It’s who I am. And if you can’t deal with that, then you shouldn’t have even gotten involved with me in the first place,” he didn’t realize what he had said until it was out of his mouth.
“Well maybe I regret getting involved with you,” her words were like alcohol on an open wound, “I regret every single touch, moment, and word. I lie awake at night wishing I could scrub my body clean from the memory of you.”
“Oh, you’re telling me,” Din was incredulous, and increasingly mad, “I want nothing more than for that time together to have never happened. To have never met you. To have never had to help you deal with the fact you can’t even handle a few months alone in space. I wish I didn’t have to help you by doing things I never wanted to do. By doing you.”
At that, she took a step back. Something switched off and her body seemed to deflate.
“So that’s why,” she whispered under her breath, just barely loud enough for Din to hear, and his heart broke.
He hadn’t meant it. Din wanted to take it back, to pull her into his arms and never let go, but he knew he had just lost the right to ever touch her again.
“I can’t do this anymore, Mando,” she said, and his breath hitched at the sound of that name. It was only used by strangers and acquaintances who didn’t realize there was a person underneath the beskar.
“I can’t do this,” she continued, “not when it’s killing me.”
She turned around and walked with as much strength as she could, walked straight back into town, leaving Din standing, back against his ship, staring until she had faded from his view, only sliding down to sit when he realized he’d never see the more important person in his life again.
10 minutes until closing. You were sitting at your desk, across the room from the front door, tapping your fingers rhythmically on the table. You wanted to go home. It had been a long day. But, true to the sign on the door, you would be open for another 10 minutes. Minutes that seemed to be passing as slowly as imaginable.
People seemed to keep coming in and no one was leaving. It was your worst nightmare. The bell rang. Some woman walked in. It rang again. Three students entered as a guy left. It rang again. Some sort of wookie-like creature walked in. You almost groaned out loud. Standing up, you turned around to check the back room. The droids in the gallery would be fine for a few seconds.
The back room was clean. The droids were talking to one another, and had no more work to do. You could only spend so much time in the back room.
Back out in the main space, you sat down, checking the time. 8 minutes and 30 seconds. This was actually the worst. You stared at the datapad you used to get customer information. After about two minutes of staring intently at the ‘Given Name’ box, and the doorbell ringing about 4 more times, hopefully for some customers to leave, you felt a presence in front of the desk.
You looked up. It was some guy, tall, sort of bulky, but strong looking. His hair was a mess, and his facial hair was worse, the only well-groomed thing was the mustache. He wasn’t familiar, definitely not a regular, probably not even from the planet. You couldn’t even begin to describe the look on his face. It was one you had never seen on someone in an art gallery who wasn’t looking at a piece. It was rich with emotion, pain probably, and he looked incredibly distraught.
Why would a guy, looking like that, be entering your shop and coming straight to the desk?
“Can I help you?” you asked, looking into his face.
-o-o-o-
You spent a solid 3 hours crying in an alleyway after storming off. You had watched the Razor Crest take off in the distance after the first hour, and watching everything you knew and loved soar into the sky and out of the atmosphere only brought on more tears.
The sun had set and the light was growing dim when you finally found yourself shakily standing up to find someplace to sleep. The cantina you were at that morning had a few rooms, and you spent half of all the money you had on you for food and a bed for the night.
The room was huge, as was the bed. After over a year of knowing nothing but narrow, hard bunks, it should have been an undeserved luxury, but as you lay in the center of the mattress, you knew you would give anything for the small room you called home.
Your heart ached for Din, and the Kid. You were already regretting leaving, but the regret tears quickly turned back into those of hurt when you replayed Din’s last words in your mind.
Had you really made him feel like you had forced him to have sex with you? Was your relationship founded upon any actual emotions on his part? Clearly everything you thought was true was a lie. All those nights, him holding you so tenderly in his arms was nothing more than him feeling like he owed you a service.
The pit growing in your stomach hardened. You felt sick. You felt dirty. You had hurt Din in ways you didn’t even realize, and when it all was too much for him, he left you in your solitude for weeks. Looking back, you supposed you deserved it for what you had done to him.
You had loved him. You knew that. The fact you were realizing this in the midst of what you could only describe as a breakup only caused you to shake with the sobs that overcame you once again.
You don’t know when you fell asleep, but at some point the tears turned to heavy breathing as your eyelids grew heavy and you slipped away into the night.
You didn’t sleep well, but the rest was needed, and in the morning you took a long shower, wiping yourself clean of the dried up salty feeling that covered your face and neck from the tears. As you ran a cloth over your body, you remembered your words from the day before. I lie awake at night wishing I could scrub my body clean from the memory of you.
If only you could snatch those words from the air where you spoke them. Maybe if you took them back, Din wouldn’t have said what he had. You could have just gotten back on the ship in silence. It would have killed you to keep going, but it couldn’t have been worse than this. It couldn’t have been worse than knowing how Din really felt.
You trudged down to return your key and grab something to eat. Sitting at the bar, you decided that, at least for the day, you would forget about Din. The day was about figuring out how to get back to civilization. However you could, you would return to the half of the galaxy you knew. Mourning and moping could wait.
With some bounce to your step, you headed right to the port, straight into the offices of the stationmaster.
“What can I do for you?” an ambiguous voice said as soon as you entered. You looked around to see where it was coming from. A head popped up from under the desk, followed by the rest of the body, “Sorry, fixing something.”
You smiled. The stationmaster looked incredibly friendly, and you figured an appeal to her sense of humanity would probably work best.
“I um, I was travelling with a guy,” you started, putting on a slightly sad face, making sure your words dripped with loss and longing, “and he abandoned me here. I, uh, I need to get back home. I can do anything. I’m—I’m good at fighting, and I can pilot a ship, and fix things, whatever. I don’t have much money, but I can work. I just want to go home.”
The woman frowned, extending an arm out to your shoulder, “Darling, I’m so sorry. That’s an incredibly rough thing for a lady like you to go through. I’ve got some captains docked here that might need some help. But may I ask, where is home for you?”
You paused. Home. Home was the Razor Crest. Home was travelling. You hadn’t been back to where you were born for over 15 years. You didn’t know if you had family left, but you figured it was better than nothing. Higher education there was good, you could move somewhere else if things didn’t work out, or if you found a job elsewhere.
You nodded at the woman, “Naboo. My home is Naboo.”
From the moment he reached the door, the only thought in Din’s brain was to turn around, to go back. He had hurt her, he knew that. It was his fault she left. He drove her away. The guilt of that was worse than anything else he had suffered.
Opening the door, he briefly hoped that it wouldn’t be her, that he was on the wrong planet, and had gotten some bad info. It wouldn’t be the first time it happened.
But then he looked into the shop and she was right there, staring down at the desk. She looked exactly like she did when she walked away, 3 years ago.
He took a deep breath, and walked up to her. Sensing his presence, she looked up, giving him a quick once over. No recognition lit up in her eyes, and Din didn’t even realize that was what he had expected until it didn’t happen. She asked him if he needed any help.
“To think you’d recognize me,” he mumbled under his breath. This was definitely a mistake. He’d kept her in the dark for so long, she didn’t even know what he looked like.
-x-x-x-
It had been 13 months before Din found the rest of the galaxy. 13 months without her. After the first three, the navigation system in the Razor Crest broke, and Din had no idea how to fix it. She probably would have known how.
A month of completely blind wandering led him to a planet where he found a small village of the little green creatures that the Kid belonged to. Seemed like they had been missing the little thing.
He knew he should have been happy. Happy that he finally found the planet. Happy for the Kid. Happy for its family. But lifting off from there, after hugging both the Child and its relatives farewell, he felt empty. He had no idea where in the galaxy he was, if he was still even in the galaxy, and without current coordinates he couldn’t plot a route home. And he was completely alone.
Now, after 9 months with no human contact, Din could officially say he had lost it. Wandering the Razor Crest, no armor on, for hours, course set to keep going in one direction until a barrier appeared on the sensors.
He would pace for hours, talking to himself. Replaying the conversations he had with her in his head. Sometimes, he would look up at the door to what used to be her room, and he would think he saw a glimpse of the yellow sleeves of her favorite shirt, and he would dash into her space, apologizing, before collapsing on the floor upon realizing she was gone. Din lost count of the number of hours he wasted crying next to her bed.
Sometimes the ship would stop, having detected an asteroid belt or an uninhabited planet. Sometimes Din would land the ship, and upon confirmation of breathable air, he would walk out and wander the barren surface.
He would wonder why no one had explored this part of space. Why no one came out here to terraform. It couldn’t be that hard, could it? So many of the planets were already halfway there.
A couple times he was lucky to find some edible plants. But now Din was running out of food. He hadn’t planned on so much time without contact, without the nav system, without people. Rationing began after two months, back when he thought he’d find the civilization he knew within another month or so. He was so wrong.
He was sitting in the corner of the ship, almost directly underneath the ladder to the cockpit, where he had been for the past 2 hours. He was scratching patterns into the walls, mumbling to himself. There was not much left within him that could be called human. That had been left behind a long while back.
The ship lurched to a halt, and Din startled out of his semi-unconscious state, jumping to his feet. Scrambling, he climbed the ladder, revealing what had stopped the Razor Crest. It was right in the center of view, through the windows of the cockpit.
A planet.
And not just any planet. This was one he knew. One that lay on the Outer Rim, considered the Last Stop Until Nowhere. He cranked the speed up, and set course to land at the largest city.
As soon as the cargo bay door swung open, Din was running out, wearing nothing but a pair of black pants and a grey shirt.
First stop was a cantina. He practically flew in, startling the bartender and the clientele, but when they realized it was just another guy, the stares turned back towards drinks and food and conversational partners.
Din asked for a drink, any drink, and a lot of food, which he wolfed down, much to the horrified look of the staff.
Two drinks in, Din was finally smiling, happy to be looking at the faces of real, live, sentient beings.
Three drinks in, Din was talking loudly with some guy who had lots of good stories of some dramatic happenings from the marketplace that morning.
Four drinks in, Din was sidling up to a nice looking girl.
Five drinks in, Din had his arm around her, whispering into her ear.
Six drinks in, the two were stumbling out of the establishment, the girl giggling, hands all over him.
He hardly remembered that first night back, just an orgasmic haze full of hot touches and passionate kisses. The next morning he was back in the cantina until he got kicked out, and moved to the next.
A week passed in a blur of alcohol, sex, and food.
Until one day he woke up, completely sober, completely naked, in a bed full of prostitutes he didn’t remember meeting, and remembered everything.
He slipped out as quickly as possible, leaving his entire bag of credits for the women. Upon return to the ship, he closed the door and let go of the body-wracking sobs he was holding in.
She was gone, he was alone. She was gone, and he had just had sex with an unidentifiable number of people, and none of them smiled at him like she did. How could he have forgotten that smile?
He spotted the pile of his armor, a pile tossed aside months ago, hardly touched. The mask sitting on top, staring at him with it’s empty, black, linear excuse for eyes. The feeling in Dins chest felt like it was pounding at his ribcage, wanting out before it exploded.
He stood up and walked to the heap of beskar. He couldn’t destroy it. Beskar couldn’t be destroyed by any normal means, so he powered up the ship and took off.
The Razor Crest groaned. He knew it was on its last legs and if it didn’t get repairs soon, it would be gone from his life too, just like everything else.
Up in high orbit, Din jumped back down to the cargo bay. Ships had mostly lost the need for airlocks, but he did have one for disposal purposes.
In his rage, he put his armor into the small space, pushing it as hard as possible to get it to all fit in, and closed the interior door. His finger hovered above the green button for a fraction of a second before pushing it as hard as he could. There was little sound beyond the creak of the outer door opening and closing.
Din wanted to yell. He wanted to scream in anger at everything that had led him here. All he could do was fall to the ground and sit in silence for a while.
When he stood up, he knew he had just opened a door that closed him off from everything he knew.
“Excuse me, sir, but we’re closing,” you said, as the guy just blinked back at you and mumbled something. You were planning on closing right on time, but this guy sort of freaked you out, the way he stared at you. You were closing a few minutes early if it meant he would leave and you could go home.
“Sorry,” he said, with a voice that tugged at something deep in your memory, something you couldn’t place, “I shouldn’t have come.”
“Were you looking for anything?” This was definitely the weirdest interaction of the day. While the guy wasn’t exactly unusual, he just didn’t make any sense. He wasn’t here for the art, it seemed.
A slight breeze brushed against your back as one of the droids slid behind you, the air cold on your bare skin. Your top was hardly covering your stomach and back, which while leaving you exposed, did help you fit in a bit more with the locals. Unfortunately, you weren’t outside where it was warm, and you couldn’t help the jerky shiver that overcame you.
“I’m sorry,” the man said, frowning. His eyes had trailed down your body, and were now very obviously lingering at your midriff, probably noticing the scars from all your fights and blaster wounds. You felt exposed. His gaze wasn’t violating, but it felt like it should have been.
“What?” you asked. Sorry was a weird way to start a conversation with a stranger. Unless he was apologizing for coming in a few moments before closing.
“For coming here,” he said, sounding incredibly hopeless. He made to turn around, but you felt the need to reach out.
“Wait, who are you?” you asked. As weird as the guy was, you wanted to know why he had shown up. What he needed.
He took a deep breath before speaking again, “I found the kid’s home planet.”
Holy shit.
Your eyes widened. It couldn’t be. Could it?
“Din?” you asked, your voice coming out as barely more than a whisper.
He nodded.
At that confirmation, you were overcome with the anger you felt last time you looked at him in the eyes. Before you knew it, you were stood up, leaning over the desk. All you could think of was him telling you how he didn’t want to have been in the relationship you had. You raised your hand, and swiped it across his face. Hard.
He didn’t even try to stop you. Even with the obvious wind up. And that’s what broke your heart. You ran around the desk separating the two of you, so you were standing right in front of him.
There was still pain in his eyes, but there was a whole lot of innocence. You had never looked at his face, but it felt a lot like you had seen it, hundreds of times before. You raised your hand to meet his cheek, where the red from the slap was blossoming.
Holding his cheek, you stared into him, and all he did was stare back, too afraid to say something. Too afraid of what you might say.
His face felt the same as you remembered. His eyes were darker than you expected, and his nose wider than it felt, but it wasn’t as shocking as it should have been. It took those few moments standing there to really understand: the man standing in front of you really was the man you walked away from.
You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug, and only then, when your face was hidden from his, did you let out a few tears. You buried your face into his shoulder. He still smelled the same, the mix of sweat and a faint bit of alcohol and spices from a distant planet. He was the same man you left, and you felt some violent crying threatening to erupt if you didn’t say anything.
“I missed you,” you mumbled into his shirt.
“I missed you too,” he whispered back.
You pulled back, blinking a few times to clear your eyes, “Where the hell have you been? 3 years is a long time.”
He looked down at the floor, then back up at you.
“Enough for you to start a business.” He said, with a weak smile.
You scoffed, “Enough for you to break your Creed, what happened?”
He opened his mouth to say something, but you interrupted, “Wait, stay right there. Let me just close up the shop.”
You paused a moment, holding his shoulders down, as if to try to glue him to the spot. Then you walked around the shop, making sure no stragglers were left wandering the room. The droids did a good job of kicking everyone out, but you could never be sure. You walked over to the door, pulling a key out from your pocket to lock it, and flipped the sign to show ‘closed.’
You rushed back to Din, who was still staring right where you left him, looking lost and small. You took pity on the guy. No matter what he had done, he was here, in your shop, looking absolutely ragged, and you couldn’t help feeling like you were looking at him naked, his face felt like forbidden material. You reached out to his hand, holding it in your own.
“Come on, let’s sit down, I want to hear all about it,” you said, leading Din to the backroom. All your droids were gone already, as they usually were just after closing, so you were left finally alone. You pulled out a couple chairs from the edge of the room, dragging them to a table. He sat down slowly, and you noticed the slight shine in the corners of his eyes that only meant tears.
“So, what happened to you, Din?” you asked.
“Well, after you left…” and Din started talking. He told his story, and you sat across from him, watching the pain and longing. You found yourself crying with him, and you reached out and set a hand on his thigh, soft and comforting. He was beautiful, you noticed, haunted and cautious with every action, but when you looked past the beaten down outer shell, Din was nothing but gentle and caring.
Your quick check of the time revealed you had been talking for over an hour. You had shared your story, or as much of it as you wanted to share, and you were realizing the conversation was ending, and you didn’t know what was next.
You hoped, for everything it was worth, that he would stay, but you didn’t know why he had even come, or what he might ask of you. You had set up a life here, one you never expected, but that you loved. It would break you if he asked you to come with him again. And the worst part was that you knew you would drop everything to fly away with him in a heartbeat.
You had fallen silent, and Din had seemed to notice it.
“Hey,” he whispered, “I know you probably h—I messed up. I didn’t mean a thing I said to you.”
You felt your heart stop. All the anxiety, the doubts, the concerns you have about your past relationship—how much you had given to Din, how much you felt you had stolen from him—they were all gone. Somewhere in the past hour, you had begun to understand that that was true, but his words confirmed it.
“I’m sorry. I was mad, and scared,” Din started again. This was a rare display of pure personal openness from him, and you were frozen, staring at him, clinging to his every word. “I left the bed that day because I knew I had broken the Creed, and my guilt had overcome me. I know I should have told you, but I was scared as hell.”
“Scared of what?” you breathed.
“Scared of how I felt. About you,” he glanced down, “I felt like if I told you why I’d left, I’d have to share everything else too, just to explain it. And if you felt the same way, what that would mean… we’d never have gotten to be with each other the same way again.”
He stared at you, and looking into his eyes you knew what he meant. What he had just said, just not with the same words. I love you.
You reached out to hold his cheeks again, this time your thumb grazing across his facial hair, and traced over his lips. You felt his hot breath, slowly passing over your fingers.
You wrapped your other arm around his waist, and with a surge of confidence, you pulled yourself into his lap, straddling him in the chair. Your chests were touching and you leaned your head in. He matched your motion, and your lips met.
You shuddered as he pulled you in, his tongue teasing you open. He held you around the waist with one arm, the other tangling in your hair, his hand warm against your head. You melted into him, sinking into the ease of it. His lips were warm but chapped, the roughness matching the mustache you felt on your upper lip.
It was like finally drinking water in the desert where you met the second time, soothing and easy and perfect. His hand on the small of your back slipped down lower, pulling you closer and you moaned into his lips. It was everything you never let yourself dream of.
You pulled away, slowly, staring into the warmth of his eye, both of you wanting so much more. Your breath was ragged and uneven when you opened your mouth.
“I would have done anything for you, Din,” you said, “I just wanted a life with you.”
I love you too.
#the mandalorian#the mandalorian x reader#din djarin#din djarin x reader#camila writes#angst#10k+#pedro pascal#reader#pedro fics#the mandalorian fics#rated m
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If you like ~good storytelling~, unique plotlines, ~diverse~ casts in terms of not just gender and race, but also in personality, and if you like ~contraversial~ subjects explored with tact and objectivity, and you enjoy or even just Don’t Not-Enjoy sci fi, please please PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE watch Star Trek omfg.
I can only speak on TNG, DS9, and Voyager, but they’re all SO freaking beautiful, and they reflect a looooot of the artistic values that I know are popular amongst the kinds of people I associate with.
TNG is great if you’re hella into ~concepts~ being explored in depth. Though the characters are all interesting and have compelling development in their own right, my opinion is that TNG is less character-driven, and more concept-driven. Episodes are more about analyzing points of view on complicated and sometimes contraversial subjects - poverty vs wealth, exploitation, racism, religious intolerance, adoption, war, judicial systems, capital punishment, grief, etc. Also, TNG is pretty well-suited to picking and choosing which episodes you want to watch. You don’t necessarily need to start from the beginning and watch everything in chronological order in order to understand each episode.
DS9 is great if you love interpersonal relationships and the ways in which they develop. Though there’s still a LOT of ~big concepts~ being explored and navigated and investigated, much more time is spent on how those big concepts affect people’s personal relationships with their friends, family, coworkers, etc... the series is set during a transitionary period between one alien race, the Cardassians, finally being driven out from controlling/oppressing another alien race, the Bajorans. The character’s relationships are all heavily impacted and influenced by the political climate and history. The types of relationships include parent/child, best friends, romantic partners, bosses and employees, spiritual leaders and the people who look up to them, etc. There’s also a HELLA prominent religious aspect, as the Bajoran’s are generally super devout to deities they call “prophets,” which non-Bajoran’s usually refer to as “wormhole aliens,” because the prohpets are Actual Proven Life Forms that reside within a wormhole, and are known to have at least some degree of omnipotence and ability to influence people and events. So, I guess you could say that compared to TNG, DS9 is more about culture, and TNG is more about philosophy. In DS9, it’s a bit more important to actually start from the beginning and watch everything in order.
Then, there’s Voyager. Voyager has a reputation of being one of the Least Good shows in the Star Trek franchise, but honestly, the rest of the franchise is so damn good that even the Least Good serises are still pretty damn good.
Voyager is unique in that the ~Federation~ and Star Fleet are both pretty absent, and the whole series works toward one overarching goal, as opposed to TNG and DS9, neither of which had any major predetermined goal that carried on throughout the seasons. I’d say it’s a bit more similar to TNG than to DS9 in that it’s less character-driven and more plot-driven. I think morality is a bit more of a factor than it is in TNG or DS9. The Main Plot is that the crew of Starship Voyager gets marooned several thousand lightyears away from Earth. They’re so far away that even if they were able to travel at full warp-speed all the way back home, it would still take them 75 years to get there. So, they’re faced with a lot of moral and ethical dilemmas as they try to seek out ways to get home sooner.
I at first didn’t understand why Voyager was held in lower esteem than other Star Treks, but now that I’m well into season 5 of 7*, I think I understand where it falls short to a lot of people. Or at least, there are reasons why I think it falls short of my tastes. Though Star Trek pretty much exists to explore moral philosophy from every angle they can think of, Voyager is a bit... preachy in it’s approach sometimes. A TNG episode about, say abortion, approaches the issue in a manner that explores ~all sides~ of the argument in a fair, generally unbiased manner. The characters have their own opinions about what’s right and wrong, and they often disagree with each other, but the narrative itself doesn’t seem to promote one ideal over the other, and allows the viewer to decide their own opinion about the issue. A Voyager episode about abortion, however, seems to be actively promoting one perspective, and most of the characters ultimately end up agreeing with it. Basically, I think Voyager sometimes has an ~agenda~, which feels offputting just because the other Star Treks do such a good job at keeping a neutral, tactful narrative. I also think Voyager panders more to sex appeal than the other shows. Like, TNG and DS9 both had super beautiful women in their casts, but there wasn’t much specific attention drawn to their beauty. Voyager, on the other hand, makes more of a point to ~accentuate~ the hotness of certain female cast members. But even then, it’s not to a degree that I would consider bothersome.
So, I guess one reason why Voyager wasn’t as well-recieved as TNG or DS9 is because it has a few cliche or mildly problematic and ~typical~ narrative elements that are common in most shows, but that Star Trek was known for rising above. People like Star Trek specifically because it doesn’t cater to the whims and values of mainstream television. But like. It’s still good.
I so so so so so so so recommend them. Like wow.
You’ll find, in the early seasons of TNG especially, that the visual effects, the sets, and the fight scenes and action sequences are SO FUCKING BAD lmfao like WOW. we really are spoiled in 2020 beause that shit was laughably horrendous. But it’s TOTALLY forgiveable considering all the other things that are amazing about it.
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The Hu and Star Wars
Ok. I talked yesterday about how AMAZING it is that SW made The Hu a canon band inside the Universe. And therefore, Mongolian a canon laguage. Also, it means rock is (finally) a canon music genre inside the SW and I’m so glad because I don’t really like Jazz. Or Jizz.
youtube
So this raises a lot of questions.
Are there galaxy tours?
THE HU OUTER RIM 15BBY TOUR.
It’s interesting how we do have a system to put a chronological order in everything but people don’t talk about time in SW.
Are there canon metal bands?
(I swear to the gods if we finally get to see Maul’s HQ in Dathomir and there’s a band playing deathcore or groove metal or a mix of both I will fucking faint)
(Also, The Crimson Dawn looks like a great name for a metal band, just saying)
Are there fandom clubs?
Like, I don’t know, THE HU TWI’LEK STROGEN BRIGADE. THE HU’S NIGHTBROTHERS. THE HU-MAN FANDOM (bad pun, not sorry, lol).
Will they play upon request in private parties?
Like, I don’t know, the Emperor’s birthday? Naboo’s queen coronation? A party at Jabba’s palace?
I WANT ANSWERS, STAR WARS.
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When the finals crunch is over, would you be willing to share how you keep all your different concept writing snippets separate and in line? You do so many AUs of AUs and so many little scenes!
This is actually not a question that requires a serious amount of explaining! So, when I’m posting the daily snippets and I identify them as “reunion AU concept 6″ or “Kanan 3 (secret project)” or whatever? That’s actually what the docs are titled. As for how I keep each AU straight – there’s no trick to that, I just remember.
Here’s what my Rebels folder looks like right now. Big projects have their own sub-folders (Rebels itself is a sub-folder in my “SW fic” folder), but all the concept writing is just thrown in there.
(Under a cut because lots of images!)
Usually I start a new doc for new scenes, but sometimes I’ll stay in the same document for them if they’re chronological and I’m writing them in chronological order. Reunion AU, for example, was written all over the place so it has A LOT of docs, while phone home AU was written straight through and so only has two. (The second one is scenes that haven’t yet been posted.)
Concept writing that I do for a novel-length story like Backbone or Queen’s Gambit is in those folders. (Note that Backbone still has the original working name (not title) of “agents of the empire,” which is still the universe’s tag here on Tumblr.)
Backbone’s not the best example because I pulled all the scenes into their individual chapter folders, but until the chapters are posted everything is floating around in the story folder. I’ll only seldom shunt scenes away into sub-folders until I’m certain I won’t be using them in the main story.
Here’s what one of this individual chapter folders looks like. You can see that I wrote and cut a lot of Hera scenes in this chapter, since while I generally write in order, that doesn’t mean that all those scenes will be used.
When I wrapped up Backbone and started Devil’s Lair, I pulled all the loose, potentially useful flashbacks into the Devil’s Lair folder.
Most of them won’t get used but I have them there to look at if I want them.
Scenes get labeled by POV character and the order in which they’ve been written. (Which sometimes gets confusing if I cut a scene and stick it into the cut scenes folder, then forget I’ve done that and label the next scene the same thing.) If it’s a flashback, it goes “character name flashback number.” Among other things, it also lets me know which character has the most POV scenes. (I wrote 85 for Hera in Backbone; Cham got 39, Ahsoka got 34, Ezra got 30, Kanan got 29.)
Here’s something simpler: what secret project’s folder looks like right now:
(yeah, it’s still just called secret project, when it gets a title I’ll probably rename the chapter docs but not the folder.)
I haven’t shuffled the scenes from each chapter off into chapter folders yet, which I only do once they’re posted to AO3 and sometimes not even then (Backbone’s only got chapter folders up to 24). also wow, these timestamps sure do give you an idea of when I’m working, huh.
My main Star Wars folder mostly predates this system, which I started using with Queen’s Gambit. It just looks like this. Boring. By the way, for the record, the oldest Star Wars fic I have on this computer is from August 2007. Don’t ask me why I have an “Original fiction” folder in here, I have no idea. Probably had to do with housekeeping back in the day.
*blinks* Also I uh. I just opened the Wake folder. And I don’t have the entirety of Wake the Storm in it. Wait, shit, I just opened the Gambit folder and fucking Gambit isn’t in it either. How do I have ALL MY 2007 FIC AND NOT WAKE AND GAMBIT ON THIS COMPUTER. (The answer probably has to do with how I was using this computer back in 2016 – those two stories predate it and were written on my previous laptop, and I bet when I was transferring files I didn’t bother to update those folders. Uh, I hope both complete stories are on my external hard drive. If not, I’ll have to pull them off my old laptop when I go home.)
…so that’s how I keep stuff organized, with a surprise ending of “wow, my two most famous stories aren’t on this computer.”
#your girl#called-kept#bedlam answers#also I just realized that I a person with NOTORIOUSLY poor memory#answered a question with 'well I just remember'#which I guess explains where my entire memory is going
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Vidya Inventory
Games in Progress
Baten Kaitos Origins - Stuck at Holoholo bird for almost 10 years
Legend of Zelda Wind Waker
Legend of Zelda Skyward Sword - started, then sis took the Wii, and now probably won’t ever finish
Super Mario Galaxy
Captain Toad Treasure Tracker
Legend of Zelda Breath of the Wild - burnt out from material gathering instead of FURTHERING THE PLOT
Radiant Historia Perfect Chronology - finished original but not remake
Persona Q
Bravely Default - Level grinding hell
Fire Emblem Awakening - at final level but support grinding
Kingdom Hearts Dream Drop Distance
Mario and Luigi: Paper Jam
Mario and Luigi: Dream Team - stuck at Giant Luigi boss battle
Shin Megami Tensei: Strange Journey - level grinding hell
Etrian Odyssey IV - got burnt out from FOE grinding
Rune Factory IV - I forgot everything and micromanaging
Pokemon Ultra Moon - got distracted but still on my journey
Final Fantasy VIII
Metal Gear Solid
Devil May Cry - I never actually learned to play so bosses-as-mooks killed me
Digital Devil Saga 2 - At final dungeon
Disgaea Hour of Darkness - trapped myself by increasing monster levels when level grinding on invincibility map
Jak and Daxter - would it count if my sister played it all and I watched as a babb
Katamari Damacy - did not fill the sky with stars
La Pucelle Tactics - got my ass kicked by bunnies or something
Okami - I FORGOT EVERYTHING
Xenosaga - an entire movie I forgot
Persona 2 Innocent Sin - I never finished it on the emulator so I should restart on the Vita... was in level grinding hell I think before I got distracted
Kingdom Hearts Birth by Sleep - Uhhhhhh
Yakuza 0 - I WAS MONEY GRINDING AND I GOT DISTRACTED
Digimon Story Cyber Sleuth - I progressed further when I got locked in my room during that time my heater broke but once it got fixed welp
Final Fantasy XV - I got to Altissia after ages of level grinding...
The Last Guardian - LET ME GET TO THAT CLIFF STOP GOING THE OPPOSITE DIRECTION I WANTED TO GET THAT BARREL FOR YOU
Uncharted 4 - Came with the PS4 but then I got other games
World of Final Fantasy - did not understand battle mechanics
Super Mario Odyssey - got distracted by Octopath
Octopath Traveler - CURRENTLY IN PROGRESS
Games Untouched
Baten Kaitos: Eternal Wings and the Lost Ocean - I definitely should play this but Origins and the Holoholo bird ruined me
Paper Mario: The Thousand Year Door
Donkey Kong Country: Returns - Wiimote waggle hell
Epic Mickey
Paper Mario: Color Splash
Yoshi’s Wooly World
Xenogears - I’VE BEEN MEANING TO PLAY
Suikoden IV - got burnt out from my playthrough of Suikoden III
Suikoden IV Tactics - same as above
Yakuza Kiwami - need to finish 0
Detroit Become Human - my sound system being poopy stopped me
Steam Games In Progress
1bitHeart
Assassin’s Creed
Bastion
Batman: Arkham Asylum
Borderlands - terribad at shooting
Braid - the completionist in me is screaming
Cuphead - guess who sucks at this
Detention - I’m a scared baby
Dishonored - FOV making me dizzy
Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim - distracted by other games
Final Fantasy XII Zodiac Age - finished original but don’t remember the story at all so eventually gonna do this one
Hell Yeah! - was entertaining
Jazzpunk - Playing too long makes me dizzy :S
Limbo
LISA - was trying to see if i could beat a generally unbeatable encounter
Metal Gear Solid V: The Phantom Pain - chicken hat can only do so much for this shitty player qq
Momodora: Reverie Under the Moonlight - I suckkkkkk
Night in the Woods - got distracted, not terribly sucked in yet
Ori and the Blind Forest - so beautiful but got distracted
Owlboy - THAT FUCKING CANNON MINI GAME I’M GONNA KILL SOMETHING
Portal - at the time it kept making me dizzy on my laptop
Psychonauts - RIP my laptop that worked hard
Shovel Knight: Treasure Trove - 9v9 terribad
Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic - I got mad that my female MC couldn’t date that one lady...
Tales of Zestiria - story is lackluster and not inspiring me to finish...
Ys Origin
Steam Games Untouched
Batman: Arkham City
Bayonetta - I did watch a walkthrough of it...
Bioshock 1-2/Infinite
Dragon Age 2 - LET ME IMPORT MY ORIGINS DATA
Life is Strange
Mass Effect 1-2 - I suck at shooting help
Metal Gear Solid V: Ground Zeros
Portal 2
Siants Row 2/the Third - eventually I’ll bash people in the head with a purple dildo
Tales of Berseria - feeling guilty not finishing Zestiria
Tokyo Dark
Transistor
Ys series
#no one asked for my opinion#vidya rambling#in my defense at least i started on a lot of these#oops#did not list all of my games since some of them are either casual or just owned because they were free or something#rogue-likes and such do not count#at least this gives me an idea of what i should work on#except i'm playing octopath traveler now#stop me from level grinding in there and turning it into another WIP
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Solo: A Movie Review
Ya know, Solo ended up being a little more of an interesting experience than I thought it would. There were highs, and lows, and hidden Easter Eggs for fans; John Powell's score was pretty solid, and the action sequences were fun. When it comes down to it for me, I am never going to see Harrison Ford in Alden Ehrenreich's, and you may call that nit-picking, but whatever. Aside from that you can tell Ehrenreich spent the time trying to bring Han's mannerisms, wit, smirks, and self-confidence into the role, and I can appreciate that effort.
The way Han and Chewy meet should be pleasing to fans as the premise didn't change from what has long been known about these characters' histories. Han, a member of the Imperial Navy, deserts with an enslaved Wookie, and up until now we only had comics and Extended Universe novels to see that play out. It was great seeing Chewy get so physical, but it should be no surprise either. If we're going to get chronological with this, the last time we have seen Chewy prior to Solo: A Star Wars Story was on the shoreline on Kashyyyk, at the end of Episode III. So not only do we know that he has no love for the Empire, but he's a proficient warrior as well.
I'll go into these two a little more if we talk about it on the show, but overall, I think the relationship between Han and Chewy developed in a believable and genuine way.
The other thing about Star Wars has always been the ability to personify inanimate objects, making them essential characters in the process. Anakin's Lightsaber, for example, which was tossed around, and anticlimactically destroyed in The Last Jedi —many Star Wars themes were destroyed in The Last Jedi— had been an important relic of in the franchise, since 1977. The Millennium Falcon is no different.
It is always great to see the Falcon because it never disappoints. It's always going to be that same nocked-coin shape; it's propulsion systems are always going to rev up with a familiar high squeal, resulting in a blast of bright blue plasma; and, like our favorite droids, will always be back at the end of the film, in good working order, no matter how beat up it gets along the way.
Which brings me to some of my lows:
L3, Lando's droid that won't shut up about Equal Rights for Robots.
Whoever programmed this droid to be such a stick in the mud was a sadistic son of a bitch. It's one thing to listen to an alien creature complain about being low man on the social totem pole; it's another thing to listen to a droid, whose personality was programmed into them, complain about droids being made to fight each other in cage combat. I was GIDDY when this thing got blown to bits, but nothing compared to watching Lando struggle to drag the torso of L3 across the battlefront as if it were a scene from Platoon —it read more like Tropic Thunder. And this is why C-3P0 and R2 were always kept firmly within the realm of comic relief—they're droids!
How many times as 3PO been torn limb from limb, only to return at the end of every episode, reassembled and shined up like new? As L3 and Lando had their Forrest Gump/Bubba Vietnam moment, was anyone else thinking to themselves...uh, just keep L3's head and you'll be able to get her all fixed up. I'm sitting there saying to myself, "What the fuck am I watching right now?" The kids sitting next to us were laughing, too.
Which brings me to my last point, for now—and it's not even really a "low":
Lando. Donald Glover did a fine job. I had always envisioned what those games of Sabacc between Lando and Han were like— the card games that lead to the Han and Chewy winning the Falcon. Lando's still the same style-obsession, self-assured swindler, and I loved it. But you now what? Aside from coming on to the gorgeous Emilia Clarke, Glover's character never showed more sexual interest in anything or anyone in the way he was interested in money and status.
Which leaves me to a new recurring Star Wars/Disney point:
Why on earth did Jonathan Kasdan say what he said about Lando's "pan-sexuality"? Why can't these people help themselves?
Before the release of Rogue One, writer, Chris Weitz, felt the need to get onto Twitter and draw lines of comparison between the Empire and White Supremacy and our newly election President, Donald Trump. He wanted people to go into the theaters paying special attention to how the Rebellion was a multicultural force, lead by strong womynz. So, naturally, people get pissed off and wary of the release, which is unfortunate because Solo wasn't anywhere near the cinematic disaster that was The Last Jedi. So, why are any of these Social Justice public service announcements necessary, or allowed? Why do they do this? It's a huge part of the reason why the franchise is going to continue to drop off and wither on the vine—the numbers on Solo and the mum reviews should be a telling sign in itself.
The reviews aren't even that bad, but there's just no juice for it... Perhaps if Disney had more than half of the people who gave life to Star Wars in the first place still on board, this would be a much different outcome?
To me, It's one thing to accept that Star Wars is controlled by Disney, which is controlled by a gaggle of progressives who can't allow themselves to create something for all people to enjoy. It comes through in their plot-lines, their characters arcs, their casting, and the promotion therein. It brings the conversation to a whole other level when they actually do a decent job (Solo & Rogue One) for fans and these freak-show writers still can't control themselves enough as to refrain from giving people viewing instructions when they watch the film.
Alright. Rant over. There's more to say but maybe we'll talk about this to close out a broadcast this week.
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170ish albums/EPs you should have bought in 2017.
This year has been a strange one. After a pretty desperate 2016, our bubbles remain burst, our political systems are still in shambles, the planet is slowly dying. It’s business as usual pretty much, except this time all of our heroes are sex pests (Cue a bit of guesswork as to which album has been redacted from this list). Fortunately, business as usual means there’s too much good music to even keep track of, but I’ve done my best. So, without further faff, here’s my annual list in chronological order, with my featured album from each month in a doodle, as I am want to do.
January
04/01 Pink Guy - Pink Season (Self-Released)
13/01 Code Orange - Forever (Roadrunner)
13/01 Omar Rodriguez-Lopez - Roman Lips (ORL Projects / Ipecac)
13/01 The xx - I See You (Young Turks)
20/01 As It Is - okay. (Fearless)
20/01 When We Team Up - Shut Up and Fly (Self-Released)
20/01 WSTR - Red, Green Or Inbetween (No Sleep)
21/01 Palladino - Supersymmetry (Hembleciya)
27/01 Japandroids - Near To The Wild Heart Of Life (Anti-)
27/01 Omar Rodriguez-Lopez - Zen Thrills (ORL Projects / Ipecac)
29/01 On a Hiding to Nothing - Formaldehyde (Umlaut)
31/01 Push Over - Demo EP (Esque)
February
03/02 Less Than Jake - Sound The Alarm (Pure Noise)
03/02 The Menzingers - After the Party (Epitaph)
03/02 Smile and Burn - Get Better Get Worse (Uncle M / Grand Hotel Van Cleef)
10/02 Homebound - The Mould You Build Yourself Around (Rude)
10/02 Omar Rodriguez-Lopez - Chocolate Tumor Hormone Parade (ORL Projects / Ipecac)
13/02 Glowbug - Fantasma Del Tropico (Self-Released)
24/02 Broadbay - Five Year Plan (Hanger / Copper Top)
24/02 Crystal Fairy - Crystal Fairy (Ipecac)
24/02 Decade - Pleasantries (Rude)
24/02 Guillotine - Sapphire (Failure By Design)
24/02 Nightlife - Salt & Acid (Speaking Tongues)
24/02 Thundercat - Drunk (Brainfeeder)
March
03/03 Converge - Jane Live (Deathwish, Inc.)
03/03 Minus The Bear - Voids (Suicide Squeeze)
10/03 Can’t Swim - Fail You Again (Pure Noise)
10/03 Self Defense Family - Bastard Form b/w Maybe You Could Explain It To Me (Alternatives Label)
11/03 Atta Girl - Betty’s Begonia (Trrrash)
13/03 Traits - Limits (Self-Released)
17/03 Pulled Apart By Horses - The Haze (Caroline International)
17/03 Sorority Noise - You’re Not As ____ As You Think (Triple Crown / Big Scary Monsters)
17/03 Stolas - Stolas (Equal Vision)
17/03 Western Addiction - Tremulous (Fat Wreck)
24/03 Catch Fire - A Love That I Still Miss (Rude)
24/03 Coast To Coast - The Length of a Smile (Fox)
24/03 Creeper - Eternity, In Your Arms (Roadrunner)
24/03 Fucked Up - Year Of The Snake (Tankcrimes)
24/03 Great Cynics - POSI (Specialist Subject / GUERRILLA ASSO / Lame-O)
24/03 Lotus Eater - Lotus Eater EP (Self-Released)
31/01 Mastodon - Emperor of Sand (Reprise)
April
07/04 Blood Youth - Beyond Repair (Rude)
07/04 Father John Misty - Pure Comedy (Bella Union)
07/04 The Flatliners - Inviting Light (Dine Alone / Rise)
07/04 The Smith Street Band - More Scared Of You Than You Are Of Me (Specialist Subject / Pool House / Side One Dummy)
14/04 Loathe - The Cold Sun (Sharptone)
15/04 Lost Avenue - Best Friends (Rustys Rekords)
16/04 Kendrick Lamar - DAMN. (Aftermath / Interscope)
20/04 Eternity Forever - Eternity Forever (Esque)
21/04 Bear Trade - Silent Unspeakable (Everything Sucks / Dead Broke / Waterslide)
21/04 Have Mercy - Make The Best Of It (Hopeless)
21/04 Self Defense Family - BBC Session (Deathwish, Inc.)
21/04 what gives - feels good (Skeletal Lightning)
21/04 The Winter Passing - Double Exposure (Big Scary Monsters / 6131)
28/04 Gorillaz - Humanz (Parlophone / Warner Bros.)
28/04 He Is Legend - few (Spinefarm)
28/04 New Found Glory - Makes Me Sick (Hopeless)
28/04 Thurston Moore - Rock N Roll Consciousness (Ecstatic Peace!)
May
01/05 X-TV - EXIT (Self-Released)
05/05 At The Drive-In - in.ter a.li.a (Rise)
05/05 Gnarwolves - Outsiders (Big Scary Monsters / Tangled Talk)
05/05 Mac Demarco - This Old Dog (Captured Tracks)
09/05 Self Defense Family - Wounded Masculinity (Triple B)
12/05 Gun Shy - The Long Dance (Wrong Way Round)
15/05 Jordan Mackampa - Tales For The Broken (Self-Released)
19/05 Employed To Serve - The Warmth of a Dying Sun (Holy Roar)
19/05 Higher Power - Soul Structure (Venn / Flatspot)
19/05 Miss Vincent - Somewhere Else (Uncle M)
19/05 Tigers Jaw - Spin (Black Cement)
26/05 Create To Inspire - Sickness (Basick)
26/05 Frenzal Rhomb - Hi-Vis High Tea (Fat Wreck)
26/05 Pet Symmetry - Vision (Polyvinyl)
June
02/06 ‘68 - Two Parts Viper (Cooking Vinyl)
02/06 Dystopian Future Movies - Time (Oak Tree)
02/06 Grove Street Families - VOL 1.0 (Venn)
02/06 Mutoid Man - War Moans (Sargent House)
02/06 Rainfalls - Creep (Self-Released)
05/06 EAT DIRT. - I (Self-Released)
08/06 Bares - Salty Kiss / In Lieu (Self-Released)
09/06 BROCKHAMPTON - SATURATION (BROCKHAMPTON / EMPIRE Distribution)
09/06 Donnie Willow - Exhibition (Sunbird)
09/06 Kamikaze Girls - Seafoam (Big Scary Monsters)
16/06 Broadside - Paradise (Victory)
16/06 Chon - Homey (Sumerian)
16/06 Color Film - Living Arrangements (Epitaph)
16/06 Faux - Faux (Speaking Tongues)
16/06 Fleet Foxes - Crack-Up (Nonesuch)
16/06 Harbinger - Human Dust (Basick)
16/06 Portugal. The Man - Woodstock (Atlantic)
16/06 Single Mothers - Our Pleasure (Dine Alone / Big Scary Monsters)
23/06 Aviator - Loneliness Leaves The Light On For Me (No Sleep)
23/06 Rozwell Kid - Precious Art (SideOneDummy)
23/06 Slowlights - I Try So Hard (Killing Moon)
July
07/07 Melvins - A Walk With Love and Death (Ipecac)
07/07 Puppy - Vol. II (Spinefarm)
12/07 Baggage - The Good That Never Comes (Self-Released)
14/07 Bad Sign - Live & Learn (Basick)
14/07 Fights and Fires - Live Life Like a Tourist (Lockjaw)
14/07 The Gospel Youth - Always Lose (Rise)
19/07 Listener - Being Empty: Being Filled I (Truth Seeker / Black Bassett / Smiths Food Group DIY)
21/07 Energy - The Witching Hour (Self-Released)
21/07 Tyler, The Creator - Flower Boy (Columbia)
21/07 Wot Gorilla? - Angel Numbers (Self-REleased)
21/07 Young Hunger - Wear Me Down (Self-Released)
25/07 Converge - I Can Tell You About Pain (Epitaph / Deathwish, Inc.)
27/07 MC Lars - The Jeff Sessions (Horris Records)
28/07 Manchester Orchestra - A Black Mile to the Surface (Caroline International)
28/07 Milk Teeth - Be Nice (Roadrunner)
28/07 Oceans Ate Alaska - Hikari (Fearless)
August
04/08 Dale Crover - Fickle Finger Of Fate (Joyful Noise)
04/08 Dead Cross - Dead Cross (Ipecac)
11/08 The Cribs - 24-7 Rock Star Shit (Sonic Brew)
11/08 Mush - Protect Your Brand (Skeletal Lightning)
18/08 Everything Everything - A Fever Dream (Sony RCA)
18/08 Wallflower - Where It Fell Apart (Self-Released)
24/08 Fizzy Blood - Summer of Luv (Killing Moon / Ayla)
25/08 BROCKHAMPTON - SATURATION II (Question Everything, Inc. / EMPIRE Distribution)
25/08 Queens Of The Stone Age - Villains (Matador)
25/08 Turnover - Good Nature (Run For Cover)
September
08/09 Comeback Kid - Outsider (New Damage / Nuclear Blast)
08/09 Death From Above - Outrage! Is Now (Last Gang)
08/09 Stray From The Path - Only Death Is Real (Sumerian)
08/09 Such Gold - Deep in a Hole (Bird Attack)
08/09 Angelo Badlamenti - Twin Peaks: Limited Event Series Original Soundtrack (Rhino)
08/09 Various Artists - Twin Peaks: Music from the Limited Event Series (Rhino)
15/09 The Apology Tour - This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things (Save Your Generation)
15/09 Arcane Roots - Melancholia Hymns (Easy Life / Red Essential)
15/09 Beaumont - Honestly (Reclaim Music)
15/09 Hot Water Music - Light It Up (Rise)
15/09 Seaway - Vacation (Dine Alone / Pure Noise)
22/09 The Bronx - V (Cooking Vinyl)
22/09 Caracara - Summer Megalith (Flower Girl)
22/09 Circa Survive - The Amulet (Hopeless)
22/09 Mastodon - Cold Dark Place (Reprise)
22/09 Metz - Strange Peace (Sub Pop)
22/09 Prawn - Run (Topshelf)
29/09 Primus - The Desaturating Seven (ATO)
29/09 Propagandhi - Victory Lap (Epitaph)
29/09 The World Is a Beautiful Place & I Am No Longer Afraid to Die - Always Foreign (Epitaph)
October
06/10 Citizen - As You Please (Run For Cover)
13/10 Beck - Colors (Capitol)
13/10 Courtney Barnett & Kurt Vile - Lotta Sea Lice (Matador / Marathon / Milk!)
13/10 The Front Bottoms - Going Grey (Fueled By Ramen)
13/10 Iron Chic - You Can’t Stay Here (SideOneDummy)
13/10 Knuckle Puck - Shapeshifter (Rise)
13/10 Roam - Great Heights & Nosedives (Hopeless)
17/10 FUCK *(It’s Pronounced SHIT!)* - It’s Still Pronounced SHIT! (Self-Released)
20/10 Movements - Feel Something (Fearless)
20/10 Muskets - Chew (No Sleep)
21/10 Listener - Being Empty : Being Filled Vol. II (Black Basset)
27/10 Gold Key - Hello, Phantom (Venn)
27/10 Heavy Hearts - On a Chain (Failure By Design)
27/10 Jamie Lenman - Devolver (Big Scary Monsters)
27/10 Slaughter Beach, Dog - Birdie (Lame-O / Big Scary Monsters)
November
03/11 Converge - The Dusk In Us (Epitaph / Deathwish, Inc.)
03/11 Lifetight - Self-Tightled (Crooked Noise)
10/11 Listener - Being Empty : Being Filled Vol. III (Sounds of Subterrania)
10/11 Quicksand - Interiors (Epitaph)
10/11 Versus You - Birthday Boys (Noiseworks / G Chord)
17/11 Milk Teeth - Go Away (Roadrunner)
17/11 Onsind - We Wilt, We Bloom (Specialist Subject)
17/11 Valliers - Lost In Familiarity (Dream Atlantic)
24/11 At The Drive-In - Diamanté (Rise)
24/11 Björk - Utopia (One Little Indian)
24/11 Lightcliffe - For a While (Failure By Design)
24/11 Rain - Abstract Vision (Venn)
December
01/12 The Dear Hunter - All Is As All Should Be (Self-Released)
01/12 Glassjaw - Material Control (Century Media)
15/12 BROCKHAMPTON - SATURATION III (Question Everything, Inc. / EMPIRE Distribution)
15/12 Gun Shy / THE EAST / summerbruise / Superdose Gangway - BSR / OPR 4-Way Split (Beth Shalom / Old Press)
15/12 Lemuria - Recreational Hate (Turbo Worldwide / Asian Man / Big Scary Monsters)
15/12 N.E.R.D - No One Ever Really Dies (i am OTHER / Columbia)
21/12 Original Sharks - Hundred Grand to the Man (Self-Released)
26/12 Scum Couch - Ignorant Bore (Self-Released)
Okay, that’s your lot. Now go away.
#top of 2017#brockhampton#strangersihavedrawn#converge#citizen#circa survive#wallflower#manchester orchestra#portugal. the man#gun shy#kendrick lamar#can't swim#the menzingers#CODE ORANGE
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appendix blog, part shrug
“kefir 👍 ”
Time for the ominously vague and vaguely ominous TALE OF YEARS
It’s subtitled CHRONOLOGY OF THE WESTLANDS, which also doesn’t help because that’s the entire appendices. Anyway the first couple paragraphs point out that the ages of the world are entirely defined by when we defeated some guy who was trying to kill us. ‘Cos, I guess, you have to come up with a different way of life every time there’s a devastating war that involves everyone you know. A “world war,” if you will. This chronology starts in the second age, which makes very little sense because the westest of westlands no longer existed then. Nor, uh, the other westest of westlands.
At the beginning of the second age a lot of elves went West. A lot of other elves established kingdoms where there were already people, I don’t get why they keep doing this. It also says that almost everyone who lived in Eregion moved there because they heard there was mithril in Moria and wanted to try to weedle some. Y’all. Oh it totally worked though the elves and dwarves there were bffs.
Okay after this there is a straight up timeline of events, which I have little interest in, I’m gonna skim it. I really like how they intersperse events in Middle Earth with events in Numenor, it’s like one of those things where the internet is like “the rubber chicken was invented in the same year that the last emperor of the Qing dynasty died!” or whatever. Also in year 1200 it says Sauron attempts to seduce the eldar. All of them. You overestimate you sex appeal, Annatar. Only half of them actually want to have sex with him.
In year 1701 Sauron is driven out of Eriador and there is peace for a long time. And I wonder why they didn’t declare an Age here. It’s not like nothing changed! Or was it more a retroactive thing, like 100 years into the third age someone was like “hey things seem pretty different ever since Isildur died” “omg yeah” “are you thinking what I’m thinking?” “NEW CHRONOLOGICAL SYSTEM!”
In year 3262 Sauron seduces the king of Numenor. Sorry apparently I’m 12 and this is really funny. Sauron is his consort now. His kids are super disgruntled about their new evil dad. I’d watch a parent-trap style movie about the shenanigans everyone gets up to trying to expose him as a bad dude.
Third age: fading years. The eldar didn’t try anything new because they had finally discovered depression; dwarves discovered paranoia and hid. Humans were all right, most of ‘em, but Tolkien wants to make sure we know that Numenoreans were diminished in both lifespan and wisdom by marrying normal-ass humans. We get it you have a genetic purity fetish. Also some wizards showed up. The three elves who had Rings were Gil-galad, Galadriel (someone has to ship them just for Gil-Galadriel), and Cirdan. I am really kind of surprised that Elrond didn’t make the list until Gil-galad died. But I am kind of biased, I love Elrond.
I want to note here that Arwen was born in 3rd age 241, so I can do comparison maths. I like to imagine Elrond kept looking into the future for a time of peace when he could have a kid and there kept not being any and he was like oh for fuck’s sake. Also Minas Ithil fell in 2002, which is just fun because it sounds like such a contemporary year.
Omg so y’know how I was talking about the ages of the world being a thing because of how life changes. Shire reckoning doesn’t give a crap. They just continue their year numbering from 1422. They like, didn’t even notice. Sam becomes maiar mayor five years later. All the hobbits from the fellowship name their kids after their dead friends. Wait wait is Merry going to get married... I’m on the edge of my seat. ALSO Aragorn gives the “star of the dunedain” to Sam?? Is that, like Elessar? Anyway Sam must be an unreal amazing mayor (I know he would be) and just keeps getting elected. Also goes on vacation with Rosie and Elanor to Gondor for a year. What’s he gonna do in Gondor for a year?
Later when Aragorn adds Westmarch to the Shire (fuck he loves hobbits so much, what a great dude) Sam takes advantage of Nepotism to get his son-in-law instated as warden of the new province. Merry and Pippin eventually go to Eomer’s funeral, being over 100 years old, and then die in Gondor and are buried among its heroes. I’m still a little dubious on them being “the great of Gondor” but I guess I don’t know what the greatness threshold is. It could be like “every captain of the guard” or something.
Appendix C is FAMILY TREES
Groan. oh wait it’s missing anyway I don’t have to try and slog through whatever unfortunate formatting this bootleg appendices was going to try to give me
Appendix D is SHIRE CALENDAR
Thanks to bootleg appendices formatting this is completely incomprehensible, but the list of what I assume are months includes Winterfilth, Thrimidge, and Blotmath. Hell yes.
The Quenya word yén, often translated 'year', really means 144 of our years. The Eldar preferred to reckon in sixes and twelves as far as possible.
Yell! I love this shit. This is like my ambitious transformers fanfiction where I made sure the reader knew EVERYONE thinks in binary. Love it.
A 'day' of the sun they called ré and reckoned from sunset to sunset.
Jewish elves confirmed... No this is probably some kind of Aman thing. Eldar also have six-day weeks and six seasons per solar year, because of course they do. It’s very cute. After this Tolkien starts talking about how to calculate whether your millenium is 4 hours 46 minutes and 40 seconds short and my brain glazes over. I like how hobbits do it, if they have extra days they just stick them in midsummer or midwinter and use them to have a party. When I was designing calendar systems as a kid that’s always how I did it. Woo Saturnalia. Pff the hobbits also wanted to be able to use the same calendar every year, so if they had an extra weekday they just didn’t name it. Just one of those days that is not any particular day of the week.
For some reason in the Quenya calendar system there is a “chief day of the week.” No, I don’t know what that means either. The extra seventh day of Numenor was because in addition to the sun, moon, 2 trees, et c the Dunedain wanted a day for the Sea. I’m so fond of this entire culture of seagays.
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