#which (and I cannot stress this enough) is a very terrible idea

[malpractice-morale]

you know green thumbs? And how people who are shit with plants have black thumbs? I am that but for cars….

#so after an oil leak after last driving our bus #the bus now has a completely drained battery which means I can’t drive him to the mechanic #(which also means I won’t get my train back to university town) #((which means I am kind of fucked with regards to public transportation)) #but my dad had the glorious idea to just tow the car to get it to start #which didn’t work when I was in the bus #so he had me drive the Volvo #which (and I cannot stress this enough) is a very terrible idea #I am a shit driver by any metric and you do not want me to tow a car with a towrope #that was bound to go wrong #so after attempt 1 (failed spectacularly; almost crashed twice) I got out to tell my dad that I am not qualified to tow #but my dad (the fool) goes nah you’ll be fine #so now I have not only destroyed the Volvos handbrakes (two years ago; the car started smoking) #I have also destroyed the clutch (two hours ago; not smoking but smelling very much like very burnt rubber) #and the bus’ battery is charging at a power outlet as it should’ve from the beginning #and any chance for relaxed six hours traveling back to my apartment are gone #I am lucky if I’ll still get to my apartment today #and I am spending a lot of time not thinking about the pink elephant (how much money a new car will cost) #bc the Volvo (while being the trustiest car imaginable) has over 400.000 km on his back #and keeping him going is cheap as long as he doesn’t have issues but now….

[foryoupeko]

I have an idea that borderlines Hiyoko slander? Idk

[Tw: violent intrusive thoughts]

I was trying to figure out who would suffer the most from intrusive thoughts after NWP and I think it would be Hiyoko. So this is the scenario that everyone wakes up form the NWP and stays on the island for the unseeable future

At first it would be thoughts like “I should punch Mikan in the face” or “Kick Teruteru in the dick”, which would be misinterpreted as thoughts you naturally get when you’re trapped with a bunch of idiots

When they get more and more violent, she keeps it to herself. She already have a reputation of being a giant bitch. Why exacerbate it more?

But things change when Peko gets pregnant and Hiyoko has the strong urge to push Peko in hopes she has a miscarriage. I cannot stress enough, HIYOKO DOES NOT WANT THESE THOUGHTS. IT SCARES HER.

She avoids Peko in fear of hurting her. It helps that Mahiru is also against the idea of Peko having a child (that’s a different story of Mahiru thinking it’s incredibly selfish to bring a child into a world you ruined).

It comes to a head where Peko finally has the baby and Hiyoko can’t even be in the same room as them. It would be so easy to twist- NO NO NO.

Hajime was letting this go at first, let Hiyoko and Peko settle their own problem, but it was getting out of hand. Hajime tries to talk to Hiyoko about this.

Hajime: Hiyoko, I understand you never fully forgave Fuyuhiko and Peko after the NWP, but I thought we agreed to be civil. You can’t leave the room whenever they enter.

Hiyoko: Why? It’s insufferable around them. You know they only had that baby for attention. Or maybe Fuyuhiko wanted his own chance to groom a baby to be his tool*?

*(At this point, Hiyoko is under a lot of mental stress but even she doesn’t know why the fuck she said this. Another intrusive thought?)

Hajime: That’s terrible! Why can’t you just be nice?

Hiyoko: All you want are nice girls! I can’t be another nice girl for you to jerk off to! I’M NOT CHIAKI!

Hiyoko would stop in her tracks when she sees that she genuinely hurt Hajime with that comment. I think at this point, Ibuki comes in because she heard it with her super good hearing. Seeing Hajime and Ibuki both very disturbed, Hiyoko breaks down and starts to cry.

After that the group helps Hiyoko with her intrusive thoughts, with ways that I’m not qualified to get into.

#danganronpa #sdr2 #I hesitate to tag Hiyoko #this isn’t meant to be slander #I feel like it’s hiyoko slander #because she’s not in the #best light #and other ppl are mad #at her for this #but it’s more like a character study? #tw: intrusive thoughts

[bloodygirlhood]

gen v fic(s) ?? (mostly jordan tbh)

the lack of gen v fanfics is actually a crime so i am here to change that. i have a lot of ideas, and thought i could share them here to see if anyone would be interested in any of them.

— SECOND CHANCES (jordan li fic)

Nova Woods' body is made of mistakes and regrets more than flesh and bone.

Ambition is her second name and betrayal is her God.

Not that Jordan Li knew this when they started dating her. No, what Jordan knew was the girl who always wore pink even though people made fun of her, and who brought them a cup of coffee and a sandwich because she knew they tend to skip breakfasts.

Nova Woods was Jordan Li's safe place. Tender touches and soft kisses, the emphatic look in her eyes that made them melt as if she was the sun and they were Icarus' wings, and praises spilling from her lips like sweet honey that they so needed.

Until they learned what kind of a monster was under the masks she was wearing.

The only reason Nova was with them was to get into the top ten on the list.

Nothing about her was real. She was just a perfectly sculpted illusion, showing them what they wanted to see. And Jordan was a fool, who opened their hearts and showed her their most vulnerable parts.

Nova knows she fucked up. She knows that. And she is ready to do whatever is necessary to win them back. She no longer cares about the list - she never actually did; it was her parents' ambitions pressed upon her and she was just a puppet whose strings were in their hands.

Jordan Li does not believe in second chances. But Nova Woods is ready to change their mind.

(I have not yet come up with Nova's powers, super healing for plot armor ofc but maybe animal control or plant control - something that will not overpower her.)

— LAMB TO A SLAUGHTER

Samantha Riordan is nothing if not her twin brother Luke's shadow. He is the Golden Boy, the sun seems to favor him as he bathes in its light while she is just Luke's little sister (despite being two fucking minutes older than him) resting on the shadow he has created for her. She watches her brother wear the crown of glory all the while she seems to have very similar powers to his but never makes it to even the top ten on the list.

Even her name does not just belong to her. Their younger brother was named Sam, which was the nickname she went by. Emphasis on the past tense because her younger brother has killed himself so her fucking name became a taboo in her own house.

It is like the universe and everyone around her acts like her actual ability is being invisible.

That is until her twin brother blows himself up and all the spotlight falls upon her.

Love Interest(s): Jordan Li (main) & Marie Moreau (not poly)

— THE FALL FROM EDEN

tw: homophobia, religious parents/guilt

Eden Rivers cannot stress this enough: just because she kissed a girl one time (okay, maybe three times) does not mean she is bisexual. She likes boys. She is straight. She is normal. She is the way her God wants her to be.

Her knees have bruises due to kneeling on the ground and her throat burns and aches for uttering prayers for hours and asking for forgiveness from God.

Again, her mother says, ignoring the tears that stain Eden's cheeks. She feels no pity toward Eden, she sees no daughter or a teenage girl. She only sees an abomination and is blinded by disgust and hatred.

There is something terribly wrong with Eden: she kissed another girl.

Eden does not argue or fight back. She continues praying and, crying, regretting and hating herself.

Then, she wipes off her tears and cleans the blood on her knees to go back to her job as if nothing happened.

Luke Riordan sees right through his assistant but does not force her to speak. He knows how her parents are and just reminds her that she will always have a place in his house if she ever needs it.

Then, he kills himself.

And Eden is starting to question her God.

Then, she meets Jordan Li — he, no wait, she, but then it is a he again and Eden cannot understand anything. Bi-gender, others explain to her and suggest her to use they/them for Jordan.

Eden needs to know why Luke, a human form of sunshine, decided to blow himself up. Because if she cannot find a reason, it means her God has failed her.

And she has to work with Jordan, whose both forms make Eden forget that her God is watching her, reading her not-so-pure thoughts.

But when Jordan is around, Eden's God does not exist.

And she no longer puts meaning into her prayers - not after kissing them.

She does not regret kissing them. She only regrets not doing it before.

(i am actually v proud of this idea because a lot of people have to hide or fight back their sexuality due to the pressure of their parents and norms placed into their heads. gen v is not just a show about superpowers or heroes/villains, it is also about discovering your real identity and finding who you really are and i feel like this fic would be focusing on both identity search and fun superpower parts.)

— BLOOD & GUTS

In a world full of Supes, being a seer is lame, Isabel Quinn knows. She also knows how fucking pathetic it is to have a girlfriend who can manipulate blood when she faints at the sight of blood.

Isabel does not think she belongs at Godolkin University but she follows her girlfriend Marie Moreau there. She assures herself that everything will be alright if they keep a low profile - but then Marie wants to go out with the "cool" Supes and drags Isabel with her.

And then there is a woman with a split neck in the middle of the club they go to. And the crimson river is all Isabel can see. So much fucking blood and Isabel's vision goes black.

She wakes up in Andre Anderson's bed - the guy who is responsible for almost killing the woman in the club- and learns they left her fucking girlfriend responsible for it and tries to get away from him.

Andre - a hypocrite, hero-wannabe in Isabel's opinion- pulls a cliche when he grabs her wrist in the middle of the yard to justify his actions but then the Golden Boy chases her girlfriend and flies to the sky.

And there is blood again. Everywhere.

Fainting once again and this time waking up with a worried Marie hovering over her, Isabel says a dumb thing. A very dumb and unforgivable thing.

Isabel loses the only reason she came to that university: her girlfriend.

But while Isabel is running after Marie to regain her love, Andre Anderson seems like a tail on her back, desperate to prove to her that he is a good guy.

love interest(s): Marie Moreau & Andre Anderson (love triangle, andre as main love interest)

— KISS & KILL

Camila Dunlap sometimes pretends like the white ceiling above her is actually a bright blue sky that stretches to freedom and the chains on her hands are actually her sister Cate's warm hands.

She is tired of looking at the trees and being trapped inside of a room.

She is tired of waiting for her sister to save her.

Sometimes they let her see Cate. But Camila knows Cate has to do things for them. Bad things, her older sister mumbles when asked, terrible things.

At least, she talks with the guy in the next room through Morse code. Sam is his name, a funny guy who often jokes about how she is not actually real. Communicating with him keeps her remaining sanity.

Until one day, when Sam does more than keep her sane, and actually helps her out of the Woods with the help of a very tiny girl.

But it is never over.

Cate tells her that if she truly wants to be free, she has to do whatever they say. She has to turn Sam in and betray the people who have saved her.

Betrayal has always been a part of love for Dunlap sisters, who can play with the strings of someone's mind as if they were those of a violin.

(as you can see, i don't like sticking to canon so this is based on the theory that cate is a double agent. i am not sure about sam's age but he'll be aged up.)

i think this is it for now. don't question why the summaries are way too long, i tend to do that. i'd appreciate if you stated which one(s) you are interested!

thanks so much for reading this!

#gen v #the boys #the boys gen v #jordan li #gen v fanfic #gen v amazon #gen v prime #marie moreau #gen v fanfic ideas #cate dunlap #sam riordan #luke riordan #andre anderson #wattpad #jordan li fanfic

[utilitycaster]

As a fellow DM, weren't you at least a little irritated of how Matt handled the shard situation? He once was so open and receptive when it came down to a players choice influencing the campaign, but now he let Tal roll and even after he succeeded he was like "nope, not gonna happen".

Nope!

It was, and I cannot stress this enough, really clear this was a terrible fucking idea. I know a lot of people started to nitpick how Matt said this "might" and "may" shatter Ashton instead of "definitely will", but like...as I said before, as someone with a severe allergy, I don't eat foods that say "may contain peanuts"; the idea that it was a massive risk was abundantly clear, and frankly the fact that in-world Ashton went “well, I’m built different” instead of “hmmm maybe I shouldn’t do Thing That ‘Might’ Make Me Explode” is highly relevant to the discussion. It's no different to me from how DMs (myself included) will often say "are you sure?" to mean "hey pal, this is a really bad idea FYI.” The successful saves mean “this did not kill you permanently.”

I also strongly suspect that Matt and Taliesin discussed this because Taliesin seemed pretty unsurprised by the top of the episode when Ashton’s Con score was reduced. I don’t know for sure - I’m hoping either Matt or Taliesin will be on the next 4SD to talk about it - but that’s the impression I got. If I had to guess I would say it was a choice between “the powers are somewhat nerfed because you already have a shard in you,” or “hey do you want the opportunity to do a much needed dramatic breakdown,” and I know which one I’d take. I could be wrong, but if this was the case, it would be a very thoughtful way to DM this.

Setting aside any DM-ing experience: I’m interested intellectually in what might have happened had Ashton successfully absorbed the shard, but also, I have watched that first half conversation literally every day since it aired except today, because I am on a train and my internet is unreliable and it’s not out as a podcast yet. I’m an episode 2x72 and C1 Feywild arc girl. I would like to see my favorite character have a complete breakdown at some point in the campaign. This is probably my favorite episode of C3 so far. I think this makes for a far, far superior story than the alternative and is not only giving a much needed shock to the Bells Hells character dynamics on the whole, but is also opening up some room for another character to take the shard and, now, for cool things to happen during the Feywild retreat. If Delilah eats the shard? If Fearne learns some deep secrets? If Chetney makes a deal with Morri? That is going to be because Ashton was rejected by the shard, and I’m far more fascinated by those possibilities than “Ashton gets super powerful, learns nothing.”

To that point: I know as always that it’s hard to convey tone via the written word on anon, but this feels frustrated toward the campaign in general, and while I do have my thoughts about the railroading earlier on, there’s actually only a few points where I really feel Bells Hells were outright shut down and honestly they were relatively minor (I do not personally mind the solstice episode cut scenes; that feels right for an event of that magnitude). I think it’s valid to feel that way, but I guess the best way to put it is that if you’re frustrated on the whole this feels like an odd place to vent it, and if you’re mad because Ashton is also your favorite character, I am interested in my favorite characters in part because of their development and their dynamics with others in the party. I am not here to watch the Ashton Is Super Cool And Everything Works Out Well For Them show; I’m here to watch the Ashton Goes Through It show.

#answered #Anonymous #cr tag

[thefrogdalorian]

The Best of Both Worlds: Chapter Twelve

Din Djarin x F!Reader Modern!AU

❁ Series Masterlist ❁ My Masterlist ❁ Read on AO3 ❁

Summary: When filming overruns and conspires to keep Din from the fun weekend he planned for you, he agonises over his decision. Fortunately, he manages to salvage the weekend, even after a calamity involving a rowboat...

Word Count: 13k ❁ Rating: Teen ❁ Content Warnings: Alcohol consumption, suggestive language. ❁ Author's Note: This is a very long one but I regret nothing, and I just reached 100k for this fic! Quite a milestone and I still feel nowhere near done, really. I get slightly carried away writing these two but I cannot resist. They're so cute, and writing their love fills me with so much joy! Thanks to @decembermidnight for being my beta. I appreciate your help amo!

12. The Calm [Din's POV]

Din tapped his brown boot anxiously against the carpeted floor of his room at the studios. He watched helplessly as the minutes ticked by on the large white clock that hung over the door, powerless to do anything but sit there as the original time he had arranged to meet you ticked by. The new time he had set came and went. Then, the time after that, too. 

The Friday evening that Din had planned and the one which was unfolding before him were worlds apart from what he had originally intended.

 First, Din planned to meet you after work and take you to the hotel he had booked. In a break from tradition, this time he had made the reservation under his name. Din had taken the precaution to avoid a repeat of the situation when a bottle of champagne had been delivered with Jim’s name emblazoned across it. After that, Din had planned an entire weekend of fun for the two of you. There would be some sightseeing and good food enjoyed by both of you. It would be the break both of you needed.

Din had even taken the luxurious step of booking a second suite for Grogu and Kuiil so that the two of you could enjoy some privacy in your room. After checking in, if you two could keep your hands off each other long enough to head out, Din had planned to take you for dinner. It was nowhere too pretentious but just something to help you wind down after a difficult week with some good food. Then he had booked a tour of London for the following day for him and Grogu and you, before an evening in the spa. Din hoped that it would be the exact treat you needed, given how hectic you had told him work was. Alas, it seemed that the universe had other ideas.

Now, Din was trapped at the studios, while you had finished work with no one to greet you. Din felt terrible. He knew how much you had been looking forward to seeing him. Even though it was far beyond his control, he still felt guilty. Din hated when plans were not kept to and schedules not followed. The uncertainty was by far the most distressing part of it all.

Din’s foul mood was not helped by the fact that it had been a particularly stressful day on set. One of those days when nothing was going smoothly and every shot seemed to be wrong. The most frustrating thing was that it was not one individual’s fault. Din Djarin was not the kind of man to lash out at people, his fury simmered deep below the surface. Yet, at least if there was someone for him to silently fume at, it may have distracted his agitated mind from the rage that bubbled within him.

The problems on set were not caused by a case of incompetence, of people not doing their jobs properly. The scenes were taking much longer to film than expected due to the intricate set. With so many components, it took so long to rearrange between takes and  the cast and crew had to do a lot of waiting around. After each take, involving several stunts as Mando was tasked with fighting off a horde of enemies, the entire set was practically destroyed. It was a thoroughly frustrating process for all involved.

The hours that Din was required to be present on set had kept extending further throughout the day and now they were eating into precious time with you, a thoroughly unacceptable outcome. 

While Din was frustrated that he was letting you down, he was downright devastated about the impact such a turn of events was surely having on Grogu. Din knew that his son was safe and being cared for at home with Kuiil, which was a relief. Yet, the separation anxiety that he felt when he was away from his boy was something that he had never managed to get comfortable with. Being away from Grogu caused Din to feel tremendously guilty 

The only small comfort came from knowing that Grogu was with Kuiil, there was no one else – bar you, perhaps – that Din would trust more with his son.

Din was also relieved to know, courtesy of a picture you had sent him showing you in the hot tub, that you had successfully checked into the rooms at the hotel that he had booked. It was nice to know that the amenities weren’t going to waste, at least.

Yet, the selfie had caused Din further anguish, in a very different sense. Seeing the warm expanse of your skin, tantalisingly bare in the selfie, which revealed enough without being downright explicit, was causing his frustration levels to grow. How unfair that he was stuck here, while you looked so beautiful and all alone in that suite. Din was just grateful for how understanding and patient you were with him. Still, it didn’t give him bountiful new reserves of patience.

Din was irritable and lonely. The extended hours were miserable when he couldn’t even hang around with the rest of the cast without constantly fearing that his cover was to be blown. Peli was not required for this episode and Din missed his best friend. Din was alone with his thoughts as he frantically paced his room, waiting for a runner to fetch him when things were set up for the next take.

The knock on the door however does not herald the news that Din was hoping for, as an apologetic crew member informs Din that they were calling it a night and everyone would be required to return to set the following morning. Despite how frustrated he is, Din does not take it out on the young man who appears incredibly apologetic at the inconvenience. He knew that the crew member must have pulled the short straw to have to confront a fully armoured Mandalorian with such news.

As Din finally took a seat in the car that would drive him the short distance to his home, he was tired and irritated. Although he was careful not to take it out on the driver, Din is frustrated that he had spent hours longer away from Grogu than he had wanted, that he was forced into cancelled plans with you and even after both of those things, he had been told that he would have to return the following day. Not having anyone to blame it made it even worse. There was no one to silently seethe at and curse for their incompetence.

When Din eventually returned to his cottage it was almost midnight. After relieving Kuiil of his duties, Din wasted no time and immediately headed upstairs to his son’s room. Despite the old man’s reassurances that Grogu had gone to sleep without a hitch, Din knew that he would not be able to sleep without seeing that his boy was okay. It was a force of habit, a nervous question that needed answering. 

Fortunately, when Din peeked around the doorframe, he was greeted with the soothing sight of his son sleeping peacefully. Grogu’s breaths were even, indicating that he was fast asleep, blissfully unaware of the turmoil that his father was experiencing. Din could not resist making sure that Grogu was tucked in and comfortable, kissing his son’s head carefully before he headed for a few fitful hours of rest himself.

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

Despite beginning the morning in as optimistic a mood as he could muster, Din soon discovered that the next day on set would run no smoother than the last. 

He had returned to set what felt like only minutes after he had left. The cast and crew were being pushed to their limits of endurance, hardly having any rest between arduous days of filming. Unfortunately, such a demanding schedule was necessary due to the tight deadline that was looming over them from the executives who were near-unanimously despised by practically everyone on set.

The fact that their well-being was shunned in favour of satisfying goals and targets set mostly by people who had never stepped foot on a set in their entire lives was a fact that irritated Din. It made him rue the day he had ever decided to work for such a mega-corporation. But he had. He was here now. That fact could not be helped. 

Fortunately, Din believed that the weekend was still salvageable. If the shoot was concluded in the middle of the afternoon, there would still be time for him to join you for a portion of the tour and then dinner. He thought it was pointless to ruin Grogu and Kuiil’s weekend too, so the two of them had left to join you that morning. Din was relieved to know that you were not completely alone. The selfie you had sent him confirming their arrival had certainly buoyed Din’s spirits.

After lunch, Din returned to the set, optimistic that the stars would align and he would be able to join you as quickly as he wanted to. 

Unfortunately, those hopes were soon scuppered. The shoot was just not moving as quickly as it should have been. With the way things were progressing, there was no way Din would be able to make it to the hotel before the evening. 

With his tail between his legs after the latest disastrous take, Din retreated to his room. Once he had secured the door, he pulled his phone out to call you, his heart aching as he did so.

“Hi, Sunflower,” Din said, as soon as you answered.

“Hi, Din,” you cheerily responded.

Din felt terrible at the excitement that was palpable in your voice. After all, he had texted you that morning and said that he would ring you when he had news. Judging by the tone of your voice, you assumed it was good news. Unfortunately, you were about to be bitterly disappointed. Din braced himself for the news he had to impart to you.

“I’m so sorry about this but it looks like I’m going to be held up at work even longer than I was hoping. Looks like I might be able to join you at around eight if things go well, but no guarantees. I hate to let you down,” Din sighed, his voice cracking with guilt.

The heavy sigh Din heard down the phone made him feel even more anguished. He knew that you hoped just as much as he did that things would go differently today. Instead here he was, letting you down again.

“It’s okay, Din,” you said quietly, “I know it isn’t your fault. It seems like your job is unpredictable, I know you would be with me if you could be.”

“Thank you for being so understanding,” Din said, gratefully.

“Don’t worry, honey. I understand. Work is work, these things happen,” you said sympathetically.

Din knew you didn’t understand, that was the entire problem. It made him feel so much worse about the entire situation. He knew that if he had just been honest and told you the truth that day when he had planned to, there was a chance you could have journeyed to his cottage to await his return with Grogu. Instead, due to Din’s cowardice, there you both were; miserable and missing each other when you were both in the same city. It was all so needlessly painful.

Still, Din knew that you had Kuiil and Grogu with you at least. It went some way to soothing his anguish.

“Besides, I have Grogu and Kuiil here for company now,” you added brightly, “We’re heading out on a tour shortly.”

“Sounds wonderful, Sunflower,” Din smiled, “I wish I could join you.”

“I wish you could too, Din,” you sighed. “I can’t wait to see you. I really hope you can be here tonight, I was so lonely in this big hot tub. It’s far too big for one person,” you add flirtatiously.

“Ugh, don’t, Sunflower,” Din murmured warningly. “If it was under my control I’d be there in an instant,” Din rasped, his voice suddenly husky with want.

“I know you would be, Din. We’ll be together soon,” you reassured him. With your sweet voice reassuring him, Din almost dares to believe it himself. 

Unfortunately, before his conversation with you can continue in any more optimistic terms, there is a knock at the door. Duty calls as Mando is required on set.

“Got to go, a colleague is calling me. I’ll see you soon, Sunflower,” Din said, repeating your reassuring words to you, “I love you.”

“I love you too, Din. Bye,” you reply.

Din sat there for a few seconds after hanging up. While he still felt awful about letting you down, he would never tire of hearing you tell him that you loved him. It went some way to soothing his anguished state of mind. Yet there was another part of him that felt intensely guilty for his failure, to be honest with you. 

Despite your words suggesting otherwise, the pain in your voice as you reassured him that it was fine made Din feel awful. Even worse than that was the bright way you had reassured him that you understood how unpredictable his job could be. Your innocence broke his heart. 

Even more so because Din knew how much you had been looking forward to a little getaway with him. You had texted him many times that week, complaining about how stressful work was for you. It seemed that the final rush before the summer holidays ended had brought all kinds of families and their children to the museums. Din had consoled you as you complained to him about how you were expected to provide information and be personable to them all, despite how difficult they could sometimes be. It sounded far more draining than his job. Although doing stunts for a Hollywood production was physically demanding and required a lot of fitness, Din did not have to be personable. He could hide his face. Those two things were enormously important for him. If he had to face the world as you did, he was sure that he would not last a day. 

Din replaced his helmet and headed back out onto the set. He pushed his shoulders back and transformed into a stoic Mandalorian warrior, rather than the anxious, frustrated man he was beneath all of the beskar… 

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

It was almost entirely dark by the time Din was finally heading towards central London. Towards you.

Knowing that it would not be long until the two of you were reunited was causing little bubbles of excitement to spread throughout Din’s stomach. He could not wait to spend what remained of the weekend alongside you and was practically giddy with excitement. 

Of course, Din enjoyed the domestic bliss whenever you visited his cottage in Nevarro. It was homely and comfortable. Yet he loved the thought of booking a luxurious room for the pair of you in one of the most exclusive hotels in London just as much. When Din had initially moved to London, he felt self-conscious and uneasy that such luxuries were at his disposal. However, since he had started dating you, he had become more grateful for such extravagances.

Din had always relished being a provider. Whether that be for his covert of Mandalorians or his son. Now he had someone else to provide for: his Sunflower. 

He loved to take care of you at the weekend, after a long week of work. It went some way to alleviating the guilt that he felt at being paid many times more than your salary to do something that was, on the surface, a lot less demanding than the job you did. 

Although the stunts Din was required to perform could be physically demanding on occasion, it was nothing compared to some of the arduous jobs he had had in the real world. It was all scripted and risks were assessed before the cameras ever began rolling. Since he had started his role as The Mandalorian, Din had been pampered in a way that was unusual to him, unfamiliar. Din had never been luxuriated in his entire life. It took some getting used to, to know that there were so many things such as the opulent hotel he had booked for the two of you that was available to him on only a moment’s notice. 

It was an enormous contrast from the simple, solitary existence he had led for most of his life. Yet Din was becoming more used to this life and the luxuries that were on offer to him. As the hotel came into view through the window, Din found himself looking forward to a relaxing weekend there as much as he was looking forward to seeing you again. 

All of the amenities were tantalising, especially when Din was so exhausted. He had been looking forward to this break all week, knowing that it would provide the rest and recuperation he so badly needed. The endless hours on set had proved incredibly stressful, Not just due to the scenes he was filming and the stunts he was required to do, but also the fact he had to be separated from Grogu for so many hours per day. So Din needed this break just as much as badly as he knew you did. He needed the time with his son and the opportunity to recuperate after filming for the final episode had been so intense. The stunts and physical acting were taking it out of him, though Din would certainly prefer that to the numerous children that he knew you had to deal with every week. 

He couldn’t wait to take advantage of the spa and room service. Din knew that if you wanted to, neither of you would have to move a muscle for the entire weekend. Well, apart from the muscles Din knew that he would use in pursuit of your pleasure. 

It would be utterly blissful, especially because Grogu and Kuiil would have their own space while Din enjoyed your company in the privacy of your room. Staying in this hotel was the escape from real life that Din relished. It was something that he did not feel anywhere else. Whenever you visited his cottage out in the country the times spent together were a blissful sense of domesticity that Din did not feel like he deserved. Still, it was preferable to spending time in your flat, a place where Din had never felt comfortable. Not due to its size or simplicity but because of the poster that adorned the walls. 

So, to be granted an opportunity to escape your normal lives and just enjoy each other’s company here was a luxury that Din was immensely grateful for.

After exiting the car, Din practically sprinted through the hotel towards you. He could not wait to be back with you again. Gone were the times when he would stress about exposing his identity when he gave his name at check-in. You were waiting for him upstairs.

Now, nothing was stopping Din from being back with you again once again. 

He smiled at the thought that he was only moments away from seeing you again and taking you in his arms. It would have been even sooner if the elevator would hurry up and arrive. Din tapped his foot frustratedly on the polished marble floor as he waited for it to arrive in the lobby with a ding.

When it finally did, he did not waste a second before he hastily entered and pressed the number of the floor you were staying in. His heart thundered as he made his way through the corridor, towards your room. Din feared it might well beat out of his chest as he stood there after rapping on the dark wooden door, waiting for you to answer.

Thankfully, you got the door pretty rapidly. When it finally swung open, there were a few seconds where Din stood unmoving, staring at you with his mouth agape in disbelief that you were finally back together. It was an expression that was mirrored on your face.

Then, he finally broke free of his trance and stepped forward to envelop you in a tight hug. Din could barely believe that you were in his arms again. He resented the fact that it had taken so long for you to be reunited. All the days of pain faded away, however, as Din gathered you close to him. He struggled to find words to express his emotions.

Fortunately, you spoke first.

“I missed you so much,” you whispered into Din’s shoulder, where you had tucked your head into the crook of his neck. He smiled as he felt your voice reverberating there, a reminder that this was real. 

“I’m here now, Sunflower,” Din replied, his deep voice muffled into your hair, “I’m so sorry it took me so long.”

At that, you pulled away. Din saw how much love was there in your eyes that it floored him all over again. He wasn’t sure how he ever found someone to love him so much. All he knew was that your presence in his life had made him painfully aware of the fact that he had been missing something for so long. 

He felt as though he had been sleepwalking through life. Existing rather than living, in the weeks it had been since he last saw you. Now you were back together, that difference was acutely obvious to him. Din closed the distance and claimed your lips with his, attempting to convey what he could not yet find with his words. He roamed his hands across the warm expanse of your back, before grabbing your waist and pulling you closer to him.

There was no doubt that things would have escalated further, were it not for the sudden presence of a certain child.

Din first heard Kuiil shouting at Grogu to come back and pulled away from you regretfully. Any feelings of disappointment were soon eclipsed by the relief he felt to once again be back with his son. 

It had not even been an entire day since Din had parted ways with Grogu, but he missed his boy so much that he was so relieved to be back with him. The irrational fear that Grogu would think he was abandoning him had been gnawing at him all day. Coupled with the frustration of being stuck behind at the studios, it was an unpleasant combination.

Thankfully, Grogu seemed to be as cheerful as ever. He appeared to be in good spirits, which was unsurprising after the day he had spent with his two favourite people. 

Din picked his son up and walked over to the sofa, placing him on his lap and doting on the little boy whom he had missed so much.

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Although Din had every intention of quickly leaving the hotel again, after dumping his belongings and making sure that Grogu was settled, his plans soon fell by the wayside. Din had intended to take you out for a meal after the tour he had planned for you as part. Nothing fancy, but it was a Saturday night and he wanted to make the occasion feel special. 

However, after Din exited the bathroom to see you lounging on the bed, you looked so relaxed and almost sleepy in the suite, he was happy to instead spend the rest of the evening in your spacious suite.

After all, it had been such a draining week for the pair of you. You deserved a relaxing evening. So, Din’s dinner plans were soon forgotten. 

“I was planning to take you out for a nice dinner somewhere to spend some time just the two of us,” Din explained, “But I was thinking, since Kuiil is here and the food here in the hotel is so incredible… how about we just order room service?”

The way your eyes lit up proved to Din that it was a wise decision. The way you leapt off the bed and threw your arms around him and voiced your agreement only confirmed that. You seemed instantly relieved that Din was thinking along the same lines as you. Din wanted to show you again that there was never any pressure between the two of you to the expectations of what constitutes a ‘proper’ date. It was something that had defined your relationship ever since that evening when Din had tried to take you out to a fancy restaurant and instead, both of you had ended up in the noodle shop. Merely spending time with you was all Din needed to feel happy. Any time with you was incredibly precious to him.

After you and Din had finally made up your minds and ordered something from the extensive room service menu, Din went to check how Kuiil and Grogu were and inform them of his plans. He wanted to give you some space while you changed into some more comfortable clothes, but he was also eager to check on how Grogu was.

Din could not help but feel guilty for leaving Grogu for much of the day and how he would again tonight, even though he knew the boy was happy with the old man and Din would only be next door. Kuiil was as close to family as Grogu and Din had. A kindly old grandfather figure that they could always depend on for comfort and companionship. Din felt a lump in his throat as he hovered at the door, watching the two of them interact. 

Kuiil had Grogu sitting on his lap, facing him. The old man was regaling him with tales from his childhood in his distinctive gruff voice. Watching the pair of them gave Din a familiar sensation of how he felt whenever he saw you interact with Grogu. The warm, tight feeling in his chest at the achingly familiality of it. 

Family was a difficult subject for Din Djarin. 

There was the family Din had lost when he was young and had never truly got to know. There was the family he had found with Mandalorians and the golden-haired woman who was the leader of his tribe. Then, of course, there was the little boy whom he had been unable to resist when he had seen him bundled beneath that threadbare blanket in the dismal attic. 

Din had decided to rescue Grogu instinctively. Without much thought or planning, which was unlike a man who ordinarily prided himself on his meticulousness. 

The abruptness of such a life-altering decision meant that Din sometimes doubted whether he was the right person to take care of Grogu, or whether Grogu deserved someone better. Din frequently felt woefully ill-equipped to deal with a toddler, especially one with as many needs as Grogu.

His love for the little boy won out every time. 

Their connection was too great for Din to ever give up. He knew that he was not a perfect father, but he was determined to be the best one he possibly could be.

As he hovered in the doorway and took a brief moment to appreciate the fruits of his labour, and Kuiil’s labour, reflecting on how much progress Grogu had made, Din felt humbled by how precious fatherhood was.

When Grogu noticed his father standing there watching him, his big brown eyes lighting up when he laid eyes on the man who had saved him, Din’s chest swelled with pride. 

It was these precious moments that made Din realise that he could do it; he was a capable father to Grogu. 

He thought back to the first days onset, when he had arrived there terrified with his boy in tow. How Peli would scold him, telling him that he had an awful lot to learn about raising a young one after she caught Din not warming Grogu's baby food properly. The curly-haired woman had not been impressed. Din had been mortified. He hadn’t expected to see her just storm into his trailer like that. Those days seemed like distant memories now, but they were an important part of what had made Din the attentive father he eventually became.

Finally, Din moved from the doorway and joined Kuiil on the couch. He listened intently to the end of the story that the elderly man was telling his son in his characteristic breathy tone. Din had always admired the elderly man for the way he spoke to Grogu as though he were a real person, not just a cute baby. 

“Everything okay, Mr Djarin?” Kuiil asked and Din shook his head slightly at the old man’s insistence on referring to him by a title. 

“We’ve decided to stay here for dinner. I ordered something for Grogu and yourself and I thought we could eat together?” Din asked.

“Thank you, that sounds wonderful,” Kuiil smiled appreciatively. “I know this one has had a long day. I should imagine he'll soon go to sleep after he’s eaten and bathed.”

“Wonderful,” Din nodded.

Before the conversation could continue any further, the sound of the door opening tore Din’s attention away from Kuiil and his son. 

Din was mesmerised by the sight of you, his brown eyes instantly brightening at the sight of you as you stepped through the door. Even though you were wearing something far less formal than you would have been wearing had you ventured out for dinner together, you were no less beautiful to Din.

You shuffled in wearing sweatpants and an oversized hoodie. Even with your body hidden by your comfortable clothes, Din was still on fire for you. Your outfit was not necessarily befitting such opulent surroundings. Then again, Din would not have picked this hotel out for himself. It was still a shock to his system to be surrounded by such an embarrassment of riches. 

Din was distracted from checking you out by a knock at the door. Dinner had arrived.

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Contrary to Kuiil’s hypothesis, Grogu had not immediately been ready to go down to sleep after dinner. It required a lot of attention from three weary adults and plenty of playtime before the mischievous boy was finally content to sleep. 

With Grogu sound asleep and Kuiil eager to get some rest of his own, Din thought it was finally time for the two of you to retire to your quarters. It was, after all, a considerable amount of time since the last time the two of you had spent some quality time together. Now Din knew that Grogu was happy and settled, after receiving more than enough attention from the three adults whom he loved very much, he was content to leave his boy behind. Din knew that he would be there the second Grogu woke up the following morning.

Although it was tempting to take advantage of the spacious bed with its luxurious sheets, Din was determined to spend some quality time with you. He suggested watching something on the sizable flatscreen TV together while cuddling on the couch of course. Spending time with you and feeling your body on his was an intoxicating thought for Din. That closeness and companionship was something he had missed as much as the sex.

So, while you sprawled on the enormous sofa, Din hovered around by the minibar, fixing the pair of you something to drink. Din was content to leave you flicking through the various channels for something to watch. It reminded him of the time he had visited your flat when you cooked dinner for him and the two of you could not decide what to watch, despite the number of titles. This time, you were in control. He did not doubt that you would pick out something good. Or if you did not, he was certain that the pair of you would find other ways to amuse yourselves…

As he glanced up towards the screen, however, Din felt his stomach drop as you hovered over the streaming platform that The Mandalorian was on. He shook his head, hands suddenly trembling as he took the glass bottles in his hands. There was no way that he could watch the show with you. He hadn’t even seen it himself, too embarrassed to watch himself on screen.

“Looks like this hotel has a pretty nice collection of streaming services. Why don’t we watch my favourite show?” you said enthusiastically as you opened the app.

“What’s that?” Din replied, jokingly feigning ignorance. Hoping that you would not detect the terror that had suddenly settled in the pit of his stomach. 

“You know what my favourite show is!” you exclaimed, thoroughly offended.

“Oh that Star Trek one, right?” Din replied, ducking as you threw a cushion across the room at him. 

“Din!” you exclaimed.

“What, Sunflower?” Din replied, a cocky smirk on his face as he padded across the room and set your drinks down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. 

Although he may not get all the nerdy references, by confusing your favourite franchise with Star Trek, Din Djarin knew exactly what he had done. He felt lighter already. Laughing like that and knowing exactly how to push your buttons made Din feel as though everything was completely normal. The burden of the secret was temporarily lifted.

When he joked with you like this, it was so easy for Din to pretend that the jokes he was telling about the show were like any other people in a relationship. Teasing banter. It was a sense of normality. But the reality was that Din used such jokes to deflect from the truth. 

He was the man behind your favourite character from your favourite TV show. No amount of jokes could hide that fact.

As Din padded across the room to fetch some cushions and blankets to snuggle up on the spacious couch, the guilt felt as though it was eating him up inside. He struggled to contain his emotions. Din knew that he was doing a terrible thing by lying to you. He was well aware that you would probably be disappointed when you discovered the truth.

Yet, Din also knew that the connection the two of you had was genuine. It had nothing to do with the character he portrayed, despite the way he had first encountered you. After that day at the convention, Din knew that he would have fallen for you regardless. Your brain and wits had stood out to him at the museum tour. Not to mention the way you had bonded with Grogu. 

Anyone who was going to capture Din Djarin’s heart was going to have to realise that he and Grogu were a package deal. You had done that effortlessly.

When he finally sat next to you on the couch, threw a blanket over you and drew you into his side, all of that anguish was forgotten. Din felt your warmth all around him, the safety and security he drew from your touch whenever he was close to you. It was enough to make him forget the secret he was hiding from you. 

With your head on his chest and your legs kicked up on the sofa as you cuddled up together and a terrible movie starting to play on Netflix, it was effortless to forget everything else beyond the here and now. 

It was easy for Din to pretend that everything about how the two of you had met was normal. That there was no devastating secret lingering over you. That it was love and fate, rather than a combination of his job and your love for the show he starred in, which had initially caused your paths to cross. 

Din wished that time would freeze and he would always be as happy as he was together with you in that suite. Curled up with his Sunflower, as you watched a terrible movie together. 

Yet Din Djarin was a pragmatic man. Perhaps because of everything he had been through in his life. He realised, with a sickening, sinking feeling spreading in his stomach, that this happiness was fleeting…

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That sinking feeling was a distant memory the following day, however. Din was strolling hand in hand with you through Hyde Park in London. Grogu was toddling alongside you, on a toddler lead. It was a beautiful, sunny day. You were both enjoying each other’s company, the anguish that the pair of you had felt for most of the weekend at being separated beyond circumstances that were out of your control was long forgotten. The quality time with each other was more than making up for lost opportunities. Din knew that it had been a more limited weekend than he had hoped, but he was still glad to spend time with you.

It was a warm, sunny day in the park. Unseasonably beautiful for mid-September. It was probably one of the last sunny days before the leaves would turn brown and copper and a colder breeze would be present in the air. So, naturally, most of the population had seemingly had the same idea as the one suggested to Din by you that morning, as you ate breakfast in the suite: to visit Hyde Park. 

Despite the crowds, it was a spacious park, with plenty of room for all of you. Kuiil had been left at a cafe near the entrance, insisting that he was too old to join the rest of you, despite Din’s insistence that he would be more than welcome to join. Still, Din did not push him too hard. The kindly old soul had more than earned his pay this weekend. 

Din squeezed your hand in his, enjoying the warm, comforting reminder of your presence as he strolled along at your side. He kept stealing glances at you, making sure that you were enjoying yourself.

Your eyes were covered by your sunglasses, but the small smile you wore near-permanently on your face proved to him that you were having as much fun as he hoped you were. 

Din had been watching you extra closely this weekend. He always did, but he wanted to make sure that the time spent apart had not affected you. He knew how upset you had been, he was anxious to ensure that he had made up for the upsetting start to your weekend. Din found that his eyes were drawn to you. He could not get enough of looking at you. There was something palpably electric about the way the two of you would steal glances at the other. 

The three of you stopped for an ice cream from a van sitting on benches as you licked the refreshing sweet treats. Grogu, naturally, ended up with far more ice cream around his mouth than actually in it. The contented coos of the little boy proved that he was enjoying himself, at the very least. Even though he had also spilt ice cream over his clothes. 

The only part of him that was stain-free was his green bucket hat. The brown shirt with green shorts that he had selected for himself had fallen victim to his ice cream exploits. Green and brown was his favourite colour combination and Din had enjoyed the way you had gushed at the sight of him that morning. 

After finishing your ice creams, you suggested that the three of you take a walk towards the water’s edge of the lake which was one of the main features of the park. At first, Din’s eyes were drawn towards the swans and ducks that were splashing around in the water there, as well as the people participating in various watersports and making their way across the calm, blue water’s surface on boats. He could have watched them all day, but his attention was taken away from them by the sound of your voice calling out to him.

“Din! Look!” you exclaimed enthusiastically, “There are boats we can hire!” you gasped as you turned to face him and pointed towards a boathouse with a few small rowboats tied up on the jetty in its vicinity which protruded into the water. “Can we hire one, please?”

Din released a sigh that was usually reserved for Grogu, an exasperated tired noise that ordinarily came out when his toddler was troubling him. But the childlike wonderment in your voice and face was too endearing for him to refuse. When you looked at him like that, Din knew he would have done anything for you. 

The prospect of hiring a rowboat was something that Din would never have done on his own. With you, hiring a boat at the park suddenly seemed like an idea that he could at least entertain the prospect of. Din knew this was probably going to end in tears somehow, but he couldn’t resist indulging you and Grogu. Not when the pair of you looked at him with wide, expectant eyes. Waiting for him to give permission.

“Fine,” Din sighed, leaning his weight onto one leg and folding his arms in a way that was so characteristic of him.

It was a careless mannerism, one that was so distinctively Din Djarin. It was also unmistakably Mando. A gesture he often employed on the show, was to strike fear into the hearts of his enemies with just a lean and a sigh. 

Din felt his blood run cold as he noticed the way that you stared at him for a beat longer than was usual. There was a terrible few seconds of silence where he was terrified that a glimmer of recognition had flickered in your eyes.

Fortunately, you soon snapped out of it. Shaking your head you took Grogu’s hand and led him towards the boathouse so you could figure out how to hire the boats. 

When you turned your back, Din shut his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. Without even realising it, he had slipped into one of his mannerisms that he had been so desperate to hide from you. The way he had stood and sighed was something that Mando would do. And he was certain that you had connected those dots. 

Fortunately, you had hurried off before he had to lie to you, again. With his breathing back under control, Din paced over to the boathouse to catch up. You and Grogu were already at the desk, selecting the boat that you wished to hire. 

After exchanging funds and a brief safety talk, with matching yellow life jackets to boot, the three of you were all set for your adventure in a rowboat. Din knew as he climbed into the boat that this was probably going to be a bad idea. Despite his reservations and hesitation and the grumpy dad facade that he was putting on, he was secretly intrigued by what this was going to entail. 

“Have you ever done this before, Din?” you asked, as though you could sense his trepidation. 

“No,” Din huffed, “Never.”

Din watched you shake your head at him with a smile on your face. He was confused by your apparent amusement, wondering what was so funny. Before you could continue teasing him, Din handed Grogu – who was wearing an adorable little yellow life jacket of his own – to you, and ungracefully clambered aboard the wobbly boat behind you.

As Din took a seat on shaky legs, you seemed intent to continue teasing him:

“Well, there’s a first time for everything, I’m sure you’ll be great!” you said cheerfully.

“You’re not rowing with me?” Din said, aghast. It had been your idea to hire this damn boat, after all.

“Oh, there’s only one set of oars. I think you can take the reins here, honey,” you smiled.

Then you proceeded to thoroughly ignore Din’s existence and his predicament, pointing out a tree in the distance to Grogu who was babbling contentedly on your lap.

Din shook his head with a huff and grabbed the ends of the wooden oars. He began to move them with trepidation. The weight was not an issue, especially not for someone with as hulking muscles as Din. But it was difficult to find the knack for the movements. He was uncoordinated at first, the wooden boat wobbling around as Din found his rhythm. 

Din murmured a string of apologies but once he eventually got into the groove, the little boat hurtled away into the middle of the lake. Happy with the position, Din paused his movements and the boat came to a stop. With the sounds of the water sloshing as it hit the sides of the boat, a chorus of birds tweeting and Grogu’s giggles floating into the sweet, warm air… Din wondered if it was possible to feel any more content than he did at that moment. He closed his eyes and sighed in contentment, appreciating the sounds as the sun beat down on his face. 

“I wouldn’t mind having a turn rowing,” you said eventually, breaking Din out of the tranquil state he had fallen into.

“Okay,” Din agreed. 

What happened next seemed to happen in slow motion. 

First, Din watched as you placed Grogu onto the seat next to you. Second, Din stood up to allow the two of you to swap places on the two benches that were facing each other on the rowboat. Thirdly, he became acutely aware of how the motion of him taking a step towards you caused the little boat to rock as you stood up and your forces acted upon the tiny vessel. 

The sum of your forces sent you hurtling over the edge with a yelp. 

The splash which was produced when your body hit the water sent droplets of the lake all over Din and Grogu, who watched the entire thing with a scared look on their faces.

For a few, terrible seconds it seemed as though the entire world had stopped spinning on its axis as Din waited for you to reemerge from the lake. 

Once he knew that you were okay, he felt certain he was about to get the biggest scolding of his life. He leaned over the edge of the boat, calling your name. 

When you finally reemerged, hair wet and sticking to your face, Din breathed a sigh of relief. Principally, because you had survived your unplanned entrance to the water unscathed but mostly because you did not look like you wanted to murder him. A fact he was extremely grateful for. Instead of fire and fury, you were giggling breathlessly at the sensation. 

Your airy laughs were the perfect accompaniment to the rippling waters of the lake.

“I hate you, Din Djarin!” you yelled between giggles.

It was a joke, there was no malice whatsoever behind those three words. Still, Din couldn’t help but wince slightly as you said such a thing to him. There were three words he never wanted to hear you say again. 

Considering how well you were taking your impromptu dunking, Din thought he had escaped your wrath. He should have known that you would never allow him to get away with the predicament you found yourself in that easily. 

Din leaned over the side of the boat to offer his hand out to you. He knew he would have no trouble pulling you back into the boat. You gladly took his hand and Din began pulling you inside the boat.

Except, Din’s helpful gesture was not met entirely with receptiveness from you. 

It was turn for Din to let out a yelp of his own, this time as you placed all your weight on him and tugged him into the water. 

It all happened so quickly that Din struggled to process what had just happened. For a second, everything was dark and murky. And cold. So cold. 

Eventually, Din resurfaced, dramatically spitting a mouthful of water into the air and throwing daggers at you. There was darkness in those brown eyes, perhaps you would regret the day you ever pushed a Mandalorian into the water. 

Din would deal with you later.

His first concern was for Grogu, who had been left in the boat all by himself. Din wanted to make sure that his son was okay. 

Din discovered, as he pushed himself up to peer over the side that the water was incredibly shallow. He could easily touch the bottom. He felt instantly relieved once he peered over the edge of the boat and locked eyes with his son. 

Except, rather than seeing Grogu’s expressive brown eyes full of concern towards his father’s predicament, there was a rather different expression across Grogu’s face. Din instead rolled his eyes as his son sat there, giggling at the scene unfolding in front of him and clapping his chubby hands together in glee. Din rolled his eyes and turned to face you, pushing his soaked brown hair up out of his eyes and onto his forehead.

Din stood there in the water, shaking his head and laughing at you in disbelief. Here he was, this man who was usually so hesitant to push himself even slightly out of his comfort zone, in the middle of a lake after an impromptu rowboat adventure.

Din looked at you, mesmerised by the way your face was bathed in the warm glow of a sunny afternoon in the park. Your eyes were shining a different colour than usual. Din was transfixed by the sight of you, the glow that seemed to surround you. As though you were an angel, brought to life. Your shirt was wet and clinging to your body, accentuating your figure which Din loved so much.

Before he was conscious of what he was doing, he had closed the distance between you. His hands were buried in your wet hair, it felt just as he had imagined it would, all silken and wet. His lips caressed yours in a slow, gentle kiss. Something about the way the water had caused your t-shirt to get so wet that it was clinging to your body had awakened something in Din. He was kissing you here in public, without a care for any onlookers.

“Everything okay here?” an unfamiliar voice behind Din caused him to snap out of the embrace in an instant.

Din cleared his throat and turned to face the mystery intruder. It was a lifeguard in a rubber dinghy, who had seen two people enter the water and been dispatched to make sure everything was okay. The man was probably close to retirement age and looked thoroughly unimpressed by Din’s antics, causing his skin to flush in embarrassment. 

“Oh… uh, yes. Thank you,” Din stammered. Sorry, we were trying to switch places in the boat and then, this happened,” Din added with a nervous laugh.

“Well, there’s a kid in there you might want to return to,” the man in the boat observed as he nodded towards Grogu who still sat there with a grin on his face.

The blush that crept across Din’s face was unmistakable as the man in the motorised dinghy made his exit, the engine gradually becoming more and more distant. He could hardly look at you as he helped you back onto the boat, lifting you and pushing you back on there, careful not to disturb Grogu. When you eventually made it back onto the boat, you unceremoniously flopped down on the deck like a fish.

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The rest of the afternoon was spent lying on the bank next to the lake on fluffy towels. Thankfully, the boathouse had provided them to help dry you out from the soaking you had received. Din had resisted all calls on your part for him to take his shirt off so he would dry quicker. He knew it was just a cheap plea on your part to get to ogle him. He was too self-conscious to contemplate such an act. Despite the ease with which he had stepped out of his comfort zone by agreeing to a spontaneous boat excursion before, his typical shyness had returned. 

Yet, as the sun fell lower in the sky and afternoon turned to early evening, Din decided that it was probably time to begin heading home. He knew a long filming day stretched out ahead of him tomorrow. A day that he knew was going to begin early, just after dawn had broken. Likewise, he knew that you would have to work early. And your job was far more draining and demanding than his.

The three of you had spent much of the afternoon in the same position. You cuddled up on Din’s warm chest as his hands rested around your waist, while Grogu leaned into his shoulder as the little child napped, exhausted from all the excitement. Din hated to move from this position. He would have been quite content to stay here forever. 

“We should probably think about heading home soon,” Din whispered into your hair, nuzzling into the soft strands which were still slightly damp after your dip in the lake.

You nodded in agreement. Din carefully picked Grogu up and gathered him to his chest, grunting slightly as he stood up. Din noticed that you could barely meet his gaze as he offered you his hand and hauled you to your feet.

The three of you set off for the cafe where Kuiil had spent much of the day, Din once again laced his fingers through yours. 

“Would you like to get a ride back with us or would you prefer to make your way home?” Din eventually asked as you approached the gates to leave the park.

Din had noticed the way you had become gradually more withdrawn and quiet. He wasn’t sure what had caused it, but he sensed that the tension in you was probably because you wanted to leave for home. It was a Sunday afternoon, turning into an evening after all. Din knew that you had work the following morning. But then Din noticed how your bottom lip was trembling as you looked at him. He knew that your idea of a peaceful, relaxing weekend had been ruined by his job. His heart ached for the disappointment which surely still lingered. 

“Din, I don’t want to make you feel guilty. I hate to sound so clingy… but I feel like I hardly spent time with you this weekend. I thought I would see so much more of you and it’s been great to see you today… but we’ve been with Grogu pretty much the entire time and I,” you sighed, looking away from him as you attempted to compose yourself. “I miss you, Din. 

“Oh, Sunflower, I understand. Don’t worry. I think this little one is tired so he probably wants to head home but, if you want, you can come back to the cottage,” Din offered.

When he saw the way your eyes lit up, he knew he had made the right decision. 

“Perhaps we can go for a walk there and maybe have dinner together before you head home?” Din suggested.

He noticed the way that your shoulders immediately lifted. The thought of going back to work the following day without having seen as much of him as you were hoping seemed to be upsetting you deeply, Din could tell. So anything he could do to ease that pain made him instantly feel better. Din never wanted to see you upset.

“I’d love that, Din,” you smiled at him. 

Your smile was one of the features that Din loved the most. Especially when you gave him one that made your eyes crinkle. Knowing that you were feeling better soothed Din’s shaky nerves. He thanked his lucky stars that the pair of you would not end this weekend with one of you feeling upset.

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

The Nevarro Arms was the most defining feature of the tiny village of Nevarro itself, aside from the huge studios, The Volume, that stood right next to it. It was where most residents of Nevarro spent their evenings, drinking and chatting with each other. 

Although they were a staple of the British countryside, pubs seemed small, intimate and terrifying to Din. 

Despite how much time he had spent in the UK and how much he was enjoying his time here, this was not the country of his birth. There were certain cultural oddities that he could not get used to, no matter how hard he tried. Pub culture was evidently one of them.

Fortunately, you were slightly more of a local than Din. So, you insisted, when you passed it at the village cross on your way to walk the path around the hill where you had infamously been caught in the rainstorm a few weeks back, that he had to at least have a pint in his local. 

“You haven’t even been to a pub since you got here?” you asked, astounded, as the two of you walked hand in hand through the tiny village of Nevarro. 

Except for The Nevarro Arms and a couple of small shops which sold basic groceries, there was nothing else really of note here. Besides The Volume, of course. 

“No,” Din replied with a smirk. He found it adorable how worked up you seemed to be getting over something as simple as never having visited a pub.

“Din! That’s ridiculous!” you said, exasperated.

“Sorry,” he shrugged, “Just didn’t appeal to me.”

“Well, we’re changing that today,” you smiled at him, “On the way back from our walk, you’ll have a pint, and you'll enjoy it!

Din was relieved to see how much you had brightened up since he had invited you here, you had been visibly upset at the prospect of leaving him. He still felt awful about the whole thing, about his work keeping him from you, but he was grateful for how patient and understanding you were with him. 

Din was transfixed by the sight of the sun setting as the two of you strolled around a dirt path, bugs buzzing as the sun set, the two of you hand in hand. You started swinging your joined hands playfully. Din giggled at the sight. He loved the zest for life that you possessed. That something as simple as just taking a stroll at sunset with him seemed to perk your spirits up and make you so playful. 

He would need every bit of those positive emotions to carry him through his first time stepping foot in his local. 

Din felt his stomach churning with nerves as the two of you entered The Nevarro Arms. It was an old building with a slightly sloped doorway, indicating its age. 

Din immediately felt like an outsider, an alien.

Part of what had prevented him from ever visiting the quaint old building was a fear that there would be a barrage of questions from the owner of the pub.

Din was nervous that they would suss him out somehow. He suspected that the pub did not get many foreigners in it. Once they realised how close Din lived to The Volume, that would be it. They would know he was The Mandalorian.

Although it was an irrational fear, Din looked and sounded much different than the character he portrayed, the terror at the prospect of being discovered never really left him. He was constantly checking himself, trying to speak differently and disguise the gait of his walk. He had found that it was surprisingly easy to blend in, given how people were never really going to imagine what Mando looked like without the suit of armour.

Still, as he stepped into his local pub for the first time, his clammy hand clasped in yours, Din was a bundle of nerves. It was amusing that he could fight people off physically like it was no more physically demanding than opening a jar of pickles. When it came to people… Din felt out of his depth.

Fortunately, it transpired that his fears were misplaced, for the pub landlord – not owner, you had corrected Din on the proper terminology – was just as much of an outsider as Din was. 

Greef Karga was not from this part of the world either, like Din he had once been employed at the studios here. An actor from the US, after concluding his job here, had just never left. He explained how he had fallen in love with the environment here and bought a cottage close by.

When the former landlord of The Nevarro Arms had sold up, Greef had decided to step in and buy the pub to save it from closure. It was an icon of the surrounding area that desperately needed saving. Greef had heeded the call.

Upon seeing how relaxed and friendly Greef was, Din felt instantly relieved. The image he had feared of a nosy old lady with grey hair, mottled skin and too much time on her hands, who wanted to know everything about Din’s life as well as yours had been his biggest fear. With Greef, he needn’t have worried.

The only thing that did worry him, though, was how extensively Greef had talked about the studios here. 

Now there was no way to avoid it. Surely you were going to bring it up. 

When Greef finally got distracted by some other customers, Din followed you through the pub to find a table. He was appreciating the low beams of the pub, the unmistakable smoky feeling produced by the real wooden fire. He was finally beginning to feel calm and relaxed. 

Until he saw it. 

His heart dropped at the sight of it.

You were walking directly towards a huge display of Star Wars memorabilia. Various posters and autographs were framed, and hanging proudly on the walls. There was no way around it. No way you weren't going to stop and bring it up.

Everything Greef had just told you would have been a perfect segue for Din to come clean, to tell you the truth, that it was no coincidence that he lived in Nevarro, given its proximity to The Volume. That he was The Mandalorian. 

When you inevitably stopped in front of the impressive display of memorabilia at The Nevarro Arms, it would provide a perfect conversation starter. He could just slip it in carefully. There would be no more paranoia that you would find the terrible secret he had been keeping from you. He would not have to hide such an enormous part of his life from you any longer. He could tell you all about how much being a Mandalorian meant to him. He could be honest with you about what kept him from you on long shooting days.

Once again, Din took the coward’s way out.

Right before you reached the display of memorabilia, Din called your name.

You turned away from it abruptly, spinning around to face him. 

“I thought we could sit here, by the fire?” Din said as he gestured towards a cosy table tucked away in the corner. 

“Sure,” you nodded and moved to join him.

Din breathed a sigh of relief as he sat down opposite you. Anxious that the conversation would not circle back to The Volume, or anything about the memorabilia on display, Din asked you a question that he knew would serve a dual purpose; that would keep you distracted and talking, while also pulling your mind far away from Star Wars. 

“What’s the history behind Sunday Roasts?” Din asked, inquisitively. “I mean, I saw a sign for them outside here ‘Try our famous Sunday Roast!’ but I’ve never heard of one before.”

At once, you pivoted from someone Din was on a date with into your full historian mode. You launched yourself into an enthusiastic lecture, telling him all about Sunday roasts.

“So, British food has a bad rep around the world and that’s pretty fair. Some of this island’s cuisine is truly terrible. But I think the history of the roast is quite interesting and amusing,” you started, eyes twinkling with delight at finally getting to share your knowledge. “A lot of countries put pride and time into their cooking, but I think British people have always been a little more lazy than that. We think the Sunday Roast or Roast Dinner as we know it first started in the Middle Ages. After a busy week of working in the fields, the peasants would just shove a joint of meat into a roasting tin and leave it to cook over the fire while they went to church. So when they returned, I’m not sure what was tougher, the boots they wore to work in the fields all week or the meat!” you giggled.

“Yeah, I wonder,” Din laughed, “Interesting history, though. Never heard anything about it before. Thanks for the lecture,” Din added with a wink.

“Oh, there I go again,” You said timidly, biting your lip in embarrassment, “Off on another one of my lectures. You can take the girl out of the museum but you can’t take the museum out of the girl.”

“No, Sunflower,” Din whispered, smiling as he propped his elbow on the table, resting his hand on his chin, “I love it when you go off on your little tangents about things. Your passion and enthusiasm… it’s infectious. You’re also incredibly cute when you do it.”

“Din…” you scoffed. 

Din smiled at your bashfulness. He loved how much more open you seemed to be to receiving compliments from him. You had been so shy at first and now you seemed to be getting increasingly comfortable with him admiring you and appreciating your presence.

“I mean it, Sunflower,” Din nodded, as he laced his fingers with yours.

Here, in this tiny, cosy pub, as the sun set and the fire crackled in the corner, Din thought you looked perfect. Your beauty was on full display to him, both inside and outside. The twinkle in your eye that was evident after the compliments he had paid you only added to your gorgeousness.

Din knew then that he had made the right decision. How could he ever let you go? 

“Thank you,” you said with a wink, “Let me go and get us another round, do you want your usual?”

“A what?” Din added in confusion. He knew he understood the words you were saying, but some of them seemed so alien in this context. 

“In the UK, it's common to buy a round of drinks rather than everyone going up to the bar individually. Saves time and as long as everyone sticks to the same drinks, it pretty much works out at the same cost. And your usual is just what you had before, so in your case a pint of the cider Greef recommended?”

“Oh,” Din nodded, fascinated as he was introduced to this new culture he knew nothing about. “I'll have another pint of cider but let me pay, baby,” Din insisted, placing his hand out to try and stop you.

“No, Din. I insist. I want to buy a pint,” you smiled as you walked away from his outstretched hand.

Din had no real concept of how long the process of ordering a pint should take. But as the minutes ticked by, he struggled to remain rational about what was taking you so long at the bar. After a few minutes, he became concerned about whether something had happened to you. 

It wasn’t like The Nevarro Arms was the busiest pub in the universe, given the tiny village that it served. So, despite his reservations and fear that he was being overbearing, Din moved from the table and went to the bar. 

Thankfully, he spotted you straight away and some of the tension that had been building inside of him was somewhat relieved when he caught sight of you standing at the bar.

However, his heart instantly sank when he saw who you were talking to. A familiar figure, who Din instantly recognised. 

It was Migs Mayfeld, a security guard from The Volume. 

Din suspected that Mayfeld was already slightly inebriated. Din locked eyes with the bald man, but Migs broke contact and resumed chatting with you. 

He tried to quell his panic by remembering that Migs would have no idea who he was. After all, the only way that he would have known that Din Djarin was The Mandalorian was if he was standing there with a big suit of armour on.

But Din was not wearing armour. He was wearing jeans and a sweater. 

You hadn't spotted him yet, your back turned as you continued chatting away to Mayfeld. Din suddenly felt guilty and awkward about his paranoia. He turned to leave, seeing that you had only been chatting to Greef and Migs and there were no more sinister reasons for how long you had taken. At that moment, you must have spotted him because from across the bar, he heard you call his name.

Din turned to face you and heard you say:

“Oh Migs, this is… uh, my boyfriend, Din.”

Din froze. There was no option now, he had to go and greet the man who had accompanied him to set so many times and checked him in at the little security hut at the entrance to The Volume. Din was silently praying that the armour hid enough of his build and voice so that Mayfeld did not guess who he was.

“Pleasure to meet you. Mayf– Migs, was it?” Din asked, his heart skipping a beat as he almost said the man’s surname. The nickname that everyone at work used for him. Luckily, Din corrected himself just in time.

Din noticed the way Mayfeld regarded him as he moved in to shake his hand, hoping that the flicker of recognition he thought he saw was something else. 

“Nice to meet you Din, you got a wonderful girl here, I must say,” Mayfeld smiled.

The way Mayfeld turned to smile at you unsettled something in Din. He felt his blood turning hot. Luckily, you were on hand to diffuse the situation.

“Well, nice to speak to you Migs,” you nodded in the bald man’s direction, “And Greef,” you smiled at the man pulling pints behind the bar. “We’ll go sit by the fire and enjoy our pints. It's Din’s first time in a pub and he’s pretty excited to be here,” you smiled.

Din watched speechless as you walked towards him and grabbed his arm. 

“You okay?” you asked, linking your arm through his as you led him back to the table.

Din nodded, although he wasn’t entirely sure that was the truth, because of how you had referred to your relationship with him to Mayfeld. The fact that you had just referred to him as your boyfriend was running through his brain on an endless loop.

The pride, the happiness that he saw in your eyes when you said that word. It was something that the two of you had not officially discussed, but it felt so right. It would be wrong to refer to you in any other way. 

After he had met you, there was no question for Din of there being anyone else. It was always you, only you. 

Now, due to his cowardice, he felt immense guilt. That title, your relationship becoming something official was exactly what Din wanted more than anything else in the world. There were no doubts in his mind that you were the one for him. 

You had brought him out of his shell, including earlier in the day on the boats in the park. It was something he never would have considered on his own but with you, it just felt so right and Grogu had the best time. Your relationship with Din’s son was just as special as the relationship you had with Din, it was plain to see how much joy you had brought to the special little boy’s life.

Rather than feel the sheer joy he should have felt at your decision to bestow such a beautiful title on him, Din suddenly felt heavy and burdened by it. As you slid back into the cosy table to enjoy the freshly pulled pints of cider, there was one emotion Din was plagued with above all. 

Guilt.

Din knew he should never have allowed to get it to this point, such a serious step, without saying something first, telling you the truth about who he was. The guilt threatened to engulf him, it was eating him up inside. Din’s heart broke when you took his inner turmoil as a sign that he was not happy with the way you had just referred to him.

“I hope you uhh… you didn’t mind me saying that. I mean calling you my boyfriend. I know we didn’t talk about it or anything but uh…. I don’t think Mayfeld was flirting really but I just wanted him to know I was seeing someone and it’s serious,” you said, anxiously looking up at Din over your glass as you took your first sip from your pint.

Din felt awful about the anxiety that he saw there, that you were so worried you had been upset when you had done nothing of the sort. Now that he looked at you before him and thought of you as his girlfriend, it caused a sensation in Din’s chest that was quite unlike anything he had experienced before. Somewhere between pride, security and a dash of possessiveness – knowing that you were his. No one else’s. He moved to reassure you, he could not leave you thinking that it was something he would not have chosen for himself. Din placed his arms on the table and took both of your hands in his, gazing at you adoringly.

“I do not mind for a single second, Sunflower,” Din beamed at you, “We didn’t talk about it, that’s true, but to me, it feels right. I am honoured to hold your heart.”

Din brought his lips to your hands, marvelling at how soft your skin was as he placed a firm kiss on the back of your hand. The sigh of relief he heard you release was noticeable in the quiet of the pub, and Din was happy that he had managed to reassure you.

“And I am honoured that you want to,” you said, beaming at Din adoringly. “Despite how useless I am when it comes to rowing boats.”

Din laughed at that, the memory of your earlier exploits in the park was going to live with him for a long time and comfort him in his darkest days, Din was sure of that. 

“Well, you can’t have it all. It would be unfair on the rest of the world, otherwise,” Din said as he took a sip from his cider.

“Din…” you scoffed, unused to such a beautiful compliment.

To Din, you did look so beautiful. The firelight illuminated your features as the sky behind the window your table was against turned to a dark blue behind you. The wooden panels of the pub combined with the traditional decor and crackling fire all contributed to the scene before Din. He thought it was one of the most stunning sights he had ever seen. Here was a man who, thanks to his work, had travelled the world and dined in many of the most luxurious, exclusive establishments. It turned out the greatest one of them all was this small, quaint, pub in the English countryside. All thanks to you.

It was such a beautiful moment, Din was almost swept up in it completely. But then he remembered what he was hiding from you, and the sickening feeling in his stomach came back. He was so terrified of ruining this, the most incredible thing in his life aside from his son, that he was tongue-tied. It would have been a perfect opportunity to tell you. 

Instead, he sat there, a warm feeling spreading in his chest. Whether from the love he felt for you or the crackling fire, he wasn't entirely sure. Still, Din basked in the moment. Committing every single sight and sound to memory as he watched you. 

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

The rest of the night was passed with pleasant chatter and laughter. Din could tell that you wanted to stay overnight, and he wanted you to. He didn’t want the laughter by the fire on this pleasant summer evening with the delicious pints of cider to end. But even if it would have been possible for you to blag a sick day, that was impossible for him, especially not with how filming was coming to a climax. It would never wash.

So, reluctantly, after one more pint, Din walked you outside and placed you into a waiting car that would take you home, thanks to the driver that the company supplied for him to use whenever he needed it. Din could tell that you felt hesitant to use such a luxury, but he had repeatedly assured you that it wasn’t coming out of his pocket. 

Even if he was, he could surely afford it. Din usually felt embarrassed by the riches that were afforded to him, but wherever he could use a perk of the job to spoil you, it all felt worthwhile to him. Din watched the car leave down the narrow country lane one way before he turned around and headed back towards the cottage, back to his son who was surely asleep, having been lulled off by the dulcet tones of Kuiil. Din was always happy to get back to Grogu, but he missed you already.

Din returned to Grogu and the cottage. He hummed a happy tune, feeling a buzz from the cider. Blissfully unaware that something as simple as a visit to his local pub could have changed everything. 

As he stood in the door, watching Grogu sleep peacefully, Din Djarin had no idea that by finally taking you to The Nevarro Arms, he had just set in motion a chain of events that would change the future for the two of you in the most dramatic way…

Taglist: @survivingandenduring @readingiskeepingmegoing

#din djarin fic #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din djarin #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #mando x you #pedro pascal characters #my fics #tbobw

[peachdues]

This is such a dumbass question to ask but what sort of stuff do you learn as a lawyer? And what type of shit do you have to study for a bar exam? Just read a few stories on it and sounds like fucking HELL — if this the sorta question you don't wanna answer, thats totally chill with me, I just like knowing what sorta coursework certai. Qualifications make you go through.

Ahhh okay, so explanation of the American legal education incoming.

So first thing — you have to have a four year bachelor’s degree in almost every state to even apply for law school. So four years of university are required before you can apply. Law school itself is 3 years, so in total, you’re in school for seven years.

Your first year you have absolutely no control over your schedule — every first year at every law school takes the same courses. You have no say over what time your classes are either — my first year, I was in class from 9-4:30 every day, with roughly an additional 6 hours or reading an assignments to do after. You quite literally cannot work during your first year of law school. These are all the courses you take during your first year:

Civil procedure (I and II)

Contracts

Constitutional law ( I and II)

Legal research and writing (I and II)

Property

Criminal law

Torts

All of these courses are tested on the bar exam that you have to take once you’ve graduated in order to be a lawyer. It’s not enough to graduate from law school — surprise!! You get to pay $5k-ish to re learn everything you’ve spent three years learning for a two day examination that literally determines your livelihood lmao. It’s very stressful — a lot of law firms make their job offers contingent upon passing the Bar, so it’s an incredibly high stress time and you get a grand total of six weeks to study.

Your second and third year are a bit more flexible. However, there are 17 Bar-tested subjects. 11 of them are absolutely tested (the first year subjects + evidence and criminal procedure I and II), but the other six are a toss up. You have no idea what’s going to be tested until exam day. So you can take classes your second and third year that are “Bar classes” but it’s not recommended you do so because you’ll hate yourself. The Bar subjects are the hardest and most dense courses.

My second and third year allowed me to explore my interests more — so intellectual property was a big one. I was also on law review and had two very big and very time consuming fellowships (I was one of 2 students in my entire state to get one fellowship that I had to go through the ringer to get lmao). Your second and third years are more about setting yourself up for a job after law school and it’s SO competitive. Like cut throat, even among friends. I hated that aspect of it lmao.

And then like I said — despite taking an entire semester’s worth of these classes and passing the exams (which average 3-5 hours for each exam but I had exams as long as 10 hours STRAIGHT), you get to do it all over again for an exam that’s only offered twice a year and literally determines whether you can be a lawyer!! The Bar exam was the worst experience. I was isolated for an entire summer, studying 10-16 hours a day and utterly cut off from loved ones. It’s a dark time lmao but I’m so glad I found solace here, with you all. Truly this blog kept me sane.

The exam itself is two days, and each day is a full eight hours. It’s designed to be a mindfuck and it’s designed for people to fail. It’s terrible!

[some-pers0n]

i watched emesis blue, very good, please ramble about it to me

You watched it??? That's so cool!! I'm so glad I was able to infect you and harass you into watching it by reblogging every single thing even tangentially related to it.

So, for the rambling part. Yeah. I'll probably just say first and foremost that Emesis Blue is probably my favourite thing to come out of this fandom. I can barely even begin to describe my love for this movie. It's something I wish goes down not just in TF2 history, but fandom in general as an example of how great fan content can be. It takes the mercs and throws them into a situation that I can only describe as 'nightmarish'.

That's another thing too. I remember once seeing a person describe the movie as a nightmare. I can't honestly think of a better description. It radiates this nonstop uneasiness and dread. No joke, the entire time I watched it I had this constant feeling of pressure in my chest. Even just thinking about Emesis Blue or the scenes in it brings it back. It's harder to breathe and I'm more alert.

I'm a horror enjoyer. I love horror. I've consumed a lot of horror.

Never has a piece of media created a feeling like that for me. The only thing that comes close is 'The Descent', which uses a similar tactic of darkness and constant dread.

But, if I go on more, I'll dip into spoiler territory. I cannot say it enough that watching this movie blind is the best experience. So, yeah. If by some means you haven't watched Emesis Blue, please do it. I know it's a horror movie and not a lot of people are into those, but I can't stress just how good it is. Please. It's free. You can watch it right now on YouYube.

Also, quick note. I was rewatching the movie while writing this and found your comment. Epic. My thoughts exactly as well.

So, let's start with me admitting something: I have not a single idea as to what's happening. I need a hour long story breakdown of this movie.

But, I can try to piece things together. In order to lay the groundwork. I could be wrong about several things, but this is how I think it goes.

Helix Technologies created the respawn machine. Jules Archibald sold it to both Redmond and Blutarch to play both sides of the war. However, the respawn machine is pretty bad and has the tendency to breakdown and cause the person it resurrects to come out...well, broken.

Scout (Jeremy) was one of these victims. The Medic (Fritz Ludwig) helps him out and around, even prescribing him these pills called 'Valium' (spoiler: they're actually the evil bad pills made by a sister company of Helix Technologies).

Medic is...not doing so hot, might I add. Because of some event, he's been prescribing himself the Valium. Though, he's haunted by hallucinations and whatnot. There's a theory that Medic was the one who killed Scout's mother, linking how the movie on the TV, 'M', is about a German murderer and how the director of the film's first name is 'Frtiz'.

Being honest? I thought from the start that Medic being the killer was a possibility, but refused to believe it if only because I thought it was obvious. M = Medic was my train of thought.

Anywho, something happens to Scout and Medic tosses himself into danger to try and save him.

Meanwhile, Soldier (Jane Doe) and Spy are on a mission to find Archibald since he's been kidnapped. Actually, the ploy was to have Archibald be faked kidnapped so that he wouldn't suffer the consequences from how the respawn machine is terrible, but we don't know that yet. They investigate the crime scene of Scout's mother and are led to Medic's office, where they eventually learn they need to go to the Conaghers.

Blah blah blah, the movie happens. Medic is having a bad time. Soldier meets up with the RED Demo (Cyclops as he's called here) and Spy has a funny little run-in with a Pyro and gets horribly burned in the process of escaping them. They all eventually meet up again after suffering through unprecedented amounts of horrific shit and play a nice round of Russian Roulette. Medic dies. Oh and also Archibald is dead because Spy figured out the ruse behind his plan.

They host a funeral for Archibald and Soldier is about to kill himself and the others with a grenade before Medic pops out and shoots Spy. He then goes on a wacky little killing spree and hops into an ambulance before then falling asleep at the wheel and crashing it, dying in the process.

What a silly story. I love it to bits.

Now with that out of the way, I wanna talk about some stuff that stands out to me.

Soldier's character is probably one of the best versions of him I've seen. He keeps that same 'Soldier TF2' charm to him, but he's brave. He's loyal. He stands by his friends in this hellish situation, never backing down or giving up. I also adore the flashback scene of him. The atmosphere of the war and trenches–

CAN I TALK ABOUT THE ATMOSPHERE TOO?? My GOD it's pristine!! The cinematography and the lighting and everything about it oozes with dread and fear. There are only a couple jumpscares in the movie, but by god I find the constant terror to be far more compelling. It's suffocating with how well its done.

The emotions and expressions too. One scene that's always been in my mind is the elevator scene. We see Medic cycle through his emotions. He's sobbing because Scout is dead and now he's stuck here. Then after being offered a cigarette, he perks up and starts laughing. It's haunting. I remember the chill that ran down my spine the first time I watched that scene. And minutes later with Medic pointing the gun to his head, about to kill himself, before putting it down and lashing out at his reflection.

Medic and his character in Emesis Blue is like my good ol' Medic TF2 blorbo, but in an opposite direction. Emesis Blue Medic is a husk of a man, his very soul and sanity being ripped from him a long while ago. He's not doing so well. I adore every single scene with him. You can see all of his fears and and emotions so clearly.

Have I also mentioned this is animated in SFM? Yeah, THAT nightmare of an animation software? I can't even begin to comprehend the amount of bugs and glitches Fortress Films had to endure. How many times entire scenes were corrupted and they had to restart. Just even knowing how much care and work the team put into this movie makes me respect it so much more. This is truly a work of passion and love for the game and its community, delivering something that's beyond words.

The sound design is another aspect I don't see really talked about. It's really good. Take the scene in Scout's home for example, with the TV playing and the droning from the phone. It's haunting.

It's just an incredible movie. It's why I think psychological horror is the best form of horror. It relies less on big scary monsters with sharp claws and axes being the main source of fear. Rather, it focuses on when those monsters will show up. It grips you with dread and refuses to let go. It never gives you that relief that comes with a jumpscare. The startling, yet comforting release never happens.

Emesis Blue also succeeds in a way that none of the characters make dumb choices. They do everything right, yet they still fail in the end. I feel that makes it more terrifying. When you do everything correctly, but it doesn't work out. It makes the situation all the more helpless. All of this mistakes happen at their own hubris, like with Spy trying to take a break by smoking a cigarette and ends up nearly burning to death.

I also love how it doesn't answer a lot of questions. Leaving the audience with a mystery and the ability to theorize on stuff is lovely. What is the masked figure? Why are there seemingly elements of time distortion? How much is a hallucination and how much of it is real? All those sort of things.

But, yeah. I love Emesis Blue. I love it a lot. It's not just a TF2 animation. It's a genuine horror movie. I've seen multi-million dollar Hollywood movies that pale in comparison to this. It shows that talent and storytelling can come from anywhere and could be simply amazing. The fact that I can watch this on YouTube for free feels off. I feel like I should be paying Fortress Films or giving them something for their work.

But, I guess praise and a couple fanfics is good enough. Very rarely does a work move me enough to actually make fanworks. I get ideas, but never write them down.

So, those are my bigger thoughts on it. I'll just list a couple more.

-I refuse to believe that Scout's name isn't a reference to Jerma985. His name on the report is 'Jeremy. E', like Jeremy Elbertson

-When I was first watching through it, my stupid god-forsaken Science Party-obsessed brain thought: "Ooh! Medic and Engie are together! :D" when Medic came into the Conaghers. Then then they started fighting it turned into: "Oh no, they're going to kill each other D:"

-The scene of Soldier trying to get through the countless corpses of himself feels like something out of a cosmic horror and I love it

-I think this movie made me understand Freedom Fries more

-Cyclops's death ruined me RIP my buddy

-That weird Scout monster thing was terrifying

-I am obsessed with Stalingrad and the other resurrected mercs. They're so cool

-Emesis Blue is a great example as to why 2Fort is a horrific map

-That scene of Medic with gouged-out eyes and chipped teeth smiling and staring at the camera makes my blood run cold every single time. I cannot overstate just how much I love that scene

-They gave Demo a pistol finally I'm so happy <3

-I am a massive sucker for Pyro headcanons where they're justed a fucked up and inhuman monster and Emesis Blue scratched that itch. Following up on that, I love how Pyro's face is the same as that one Half-Life 2 zombie model. You know the one. The one that's of a genuine real burn corpse? Good times

-When Spy got burned, I genuinely thought that he would eventually become the Pyro through some weird time distortion shenanigans. I still believe in that theory too, honestly

-I actually really like how it uses the TF2 characters since you're already familiar with them and my intense love for them makes me care about them a thousand times more

-People who complain about the movie tossing in references have no idea what fun or thematic parallels are

-Medic spitting out his teeth in the end could either be a reference to Scout's nightmare at the beginning or to how Medic's teeth are literally falling out in real time. Maybe both. It could be both

-What in gods name is in that briefcase I need to know

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #emesis blue #I am incredibly normal about this movie #Emesis Blue ruined my life 10/10 would watch every day for the rest of my existence #sp-rambles

[homosexualjavert]

I hypothesize their care comes from your winning personality and brilliantly dry sense of humour (I say this sarcastically). In all seriousness, I think M. Fauchelevant cares for everyone and everything to a degree, so you are not terribly unique in that regard. Although him having close friendships has been previously unheard of: how did the two of you meet anyway? And perhaps you are not old enough to retire, but I don’t think you would be very successful chasing down criminals with a bum leg. Unless you plan on working a desk job or something of that nature, but that doesn’t seem to be quite your style.

Oh, no doubt you have made many enemies, but still, their behaviour is objectively deplorable! I wouldn’t even think of committing an act of violence in your defense, of course. That would be against the law. Which I obviously follow to the letter. But perhaps I ought to ask Monsieur Fauchelevant’s opinion on the matter of “preventative measures”…

As a potential gift idea, perhaps a new coat for both M. Fauchelevant and yourself in a similar style with different colour schemes! His clothes are well-worn as you have said (as are yours), and maybe such a gift would be enough to convince him to stop wearing that lurid yellow coat. For example, consider getting him something in the hexadecimal color code #24601e instead. And I cannot stress the benefits of good tailoring: imagine him in a well-fitted coat that accentuates the musculature of his arms and breadth of his shoulders?… Clearly you have observed the man closely enough to have some idea of what his measurements are according to your detailed description of him.

That is understandable, M-sur-M was ages ago! Don’t worry, I’m no gossip, I have not told anyone in town my more unsavory opinions of you from that time. I think there would be a riot if people thought you were somehow corrupting our good Monsieur Fauchelevant haha. Were I to encounter you in person at some point in the future, I will pretend I have no previous connection to you for your convenience and my amusement.

Alright, alright, I relent. You do remind me of a stubborn stray cat though.

— M.M.

P.S. I don’t suppose you would be willing to create a tag of our correspondence, could you? I’m afraid I have terrible memory and with how much I write in these messages, I fear I will start repeating myself at some point if I don’t keep track.

How we met...? Er. You could say we were... co-workers.

And my leg... Hm. I don't know how that will end. There is always the chance it will heal properly, but it remains to be seen now. M. Fauchelevant has been forcing me to "take it easy" so it seems likely it will heal alright.

M. Fauchelevant refuses to fight unless it is absolutely necessary. That is to say, he is (to put it in his words) "wishing the most horrid vibes upon them and their kin," so. I suppose I can permit you to do that.

HE,, THE COATS,, UHH, WHATS A HEXADECIMEL CODE...? ER. NO. BAD COLOUR! I MEAN, WHATS A COLOUR?

...ANYWAY.

I... It might be nice to purchase a new one with him when I am healed.

Unsavory--! Well. I certainly have some unsavory opinions on you, sir.

I AM NOT A CAT EITHER!

I will attempt to do the whole, er, tagging thing.

#unknown mm #javert #les miserables #jean valjean #valvert #les mis #cosette

[fairy-pd]

Gabriel May finally finds a healthy coping mechanism - agere hcs

Hurt/comfort, gremlin man gets the love he deserves, GN reader, regressor!reader, sfw, mentions of trauma

MY BEAUTIFUL BABY MAN BABY. I LOVE HIM YOUR HONOR. HE STINKS SO BAD G O D

general hcs:

I cannot stress this enough: in this household we support Gabriel's rights and Gabriel's wrongs

In my opinion he was just a really misunderstood and abused kid, who coped with ppl villainizing him constantly by becoming the monster everyone accused him of being

He internalized his traumatic experiences and now believes he's basically the antichrist and that he's incapable of changing

Also he could've not, yknow, killed a bunch of ppl and terrorized his sister for years, he is totally responsible for being a shitty person dont get me wrong

But at the same time, he was a kid. I feel bad for the fact that becoming this vengeful ghost of a person was the best option in his young mind. No child should ever have to make that choice, no kid should even consider that as a choice

He still is, in some ways, mentally a child. He didn't get to experience the milestones for an adult that Emily did, and from day one he was treated like a thing. His inner child is constantly *screaming* at him, begging for attention, but he got pretty good at pushing his feelings down and ignoring his own needs while in pursuit of his goals

He is very very immature because of all this. Think tantrums, having a terrible sense of object permanence, deeply rooted abandonment issues, etc

Even tho Emily managed to lock in that mind??? prison ??? thing??? he still gets out from time to time and that's how he met you: fucking around town while he could

Im not gonna dwelve in too deep as to how you guys started a relationship (romantic or platonic) but now you're the only person he trusts

He is capable of feeling empathy, just not a lot and not for everyone. With you he feels incredibly sensitive and caring, which is totally foreign to him and kinda makes him feel like he's gone "soft" - so don't make fun of him (or a big a deal out of the whole thing) when he expresses concern, or he will shut you down like he did with his sister

I kinda hc him as using sarcasm/humor to cope, so he'd be cracking some witty jokes here and there whenever he's nervous about doing something

his regression/caregiving style:

He is a flip through and through, though it would take a long time for him to accept his "little" side

He hates being vulnerable, hates not having the upper hand and control over things, so he would downright beat himself up for being "weak" and still having these childlike needs and thoughts

But remember he feels like he's doomed, like he can't help being a "monster"? Being a caregiver would help him immensely with these thoughts because even though he's a piece of shit gremlin, he would never intentionally hurt a child

So by letting yourself regress around him he would learn he can choose his fate. He is not doomed, because he is capable of seeing you in your most vulnerable state and not even consider the idea of taking advantage of that

And that blows his mind off lmao

And for some ~mysterious reason~ he starts to feel a little better, and to do a little better

Needless to say Emily is beyond grateful you're in their lives. Gabriel totally refuses to go to therapy (doctorphobic lol), and their relationship is as bad as it gets, but since you showed up Gabriel hasn't been a prick to her. He is very moody still, but they're not fighting over control of their brain and body anymore. Because of you, they started to be able to tolerate each other's presence and now they try their best to both not fight in front of you and to share their body as best as they can

He lowkey doesn't know how to act around you at first lmao, its kinda of endearing. He wont show but he's gonna be panicking inside and will wonder if the slightest touch or thing he says would hurt you

He cares. A lot, all the time, and since its just the two of you and he feels so strangely safe around you, he'll allow himself to be 100% invested in taking care of you

He's a craftsman, which could maybe make you think he'd spoil you rotten with gifts (which he will) but I feel he also wouldn't want to shut up about how absolutely adorable you look

Wouldn't go too crazy with the nicknames tho, at most would call you kitten/puppy/bunny

I figured moving probably feels pretty painful to him, so he'll deal a lot better with calm/sleepy regressors

But don't get too excited thinking he'd let you do whatever you want: he can and he will put you on one of those kid leashes with the backpack if he has to

I think that, with time, he'd go from a sort of lenient cg to a more strict one- it would help him to give someone rules to follow cus he'd have to take care of himself better to be able to take care of you

The most therapeutic thing to him about all this is to be able to give someone the childhood he didn't get to have: you'll never feel alone, he'll never belittle you or make you feel like there's something inherently wrong with you

On the contrary: he'd make a point on teaching your regressed self to love and accept yourself as best as you can

BIG fan of gentle parenting, got a tiktok account solely to watch those vids and to make mental notes on how to better care for you

Would get pretty jealous and protective over you and your relationship, specially around Emily

If you guys ever go out together and you happen to regress in public he will not let you feel bad about it. You better not take that paci out of your mouth honey, cus there's nothing to be ashamed of here

He isnt super big on parental nicknames, thinks dada/papa is fine but absolutely prefers bubba over those

Isnt super excited about touch at first either. At the begging of your relationship he would outright refuse it, but since discovering his cg headspace he has allowed himself to admit he's absolutely somewhat touch starved

Expect lots of little touches here and there, like brushing hair out of your face/tucking it behind your ear, adjusting your clothes, fixing your eyebrows, etc

Melts when you hug or compliment him. Will never ever let himself admit it tho, but will thank you for doing it

He keeps every drawing/little gifts you give him somewhere Emily wont find it, so he can 1) keep small you all to himself 2) protect his reputation as a stone cold and uncaring guy and 3) gush to himself over how lucky he is to have found you

Remember he's a craftsman? He loves making you big gifts out of literally anything he can get his hands on i.e. has turned one of Emily's old wooden pieces into a bunch of Montessori-inspired toys and plans on doing it again, cus fuck you Emily

Despite being good with big pieces, his fine motor skills are a disaster (thanks for having to use Emily's arms backwards). If you ever let him do your hair he will mess it up (and will get a good laugh out of both of you)

He is a great storyteller and loves playing pretend: will make up bed time stories on the spot

He's got a lot to learn, but if you give him enough love and try to be patient he'll outmatch your energy and will dedicate himself, body and soul, to you

Super caring cg once he finds a safe place to live and thrive in

i love him thats all. hope it wasnt too bad!! im kinda sleepy so apologies if something isn't consistent, I'll proofread this later. see ya, pt. 3 of tommy hewitt as a cg coming soon after this one❤

#agere #slasher fluff #slasher headcanons #gabriel may headcannons #gabriel may #gabriel may malignant #malignant #gabriel may x you #gabriel may x y/n #gabriel may x reader #cg! gabriel may #gabriel may x ageregressor #gabriel may fluff #agere slashers #horror agere #my writing

[acrossthewavesoftime]

your personal ranking of the stuarts (james i through anne)?

Eſteem’d Anon,

I am terribly sorry for my tardy reply, but a complex question deserves an equally complex answer!

You asked for my opinion on this matter, and you shall receive it. Because I am no tyrant, and believe in making my methods in this little absolutist assignment of good and bad transparent, I have devised a table based on the German high school grading system by which our Stuart Kings and Queens shall be judged:

There are six possible grades, 1 being the best, and 6 the poorest one might receive. Those six grades are divided up by points into sections of three with the highest score denoting an upwards tendency, a solid middle ground, and the lowest score denoting a downwards tendency.

For our purposes, I have substituted the numbers 1-6 with written verdicts from Best (Stuart) Monarch Ever to Did You Even Try to Rule!? and colour-coded them accordingly.

But rather than merely slapping a number and a vague verdict onto a name, I divided the pool of 15 points up into three categories with a maximum score of 5 points, aiming to give a brief assessment of the monarch’s reign, legacy and personality/interestingness from a modern perspective.

5 points each for:

Reign [political stability, innovations, welfare of subjects etc.]

(Political) Legacy [lasting influence of their reign, smoothness of succession, heirs etc.]

Fascination Factor: [why they are interesting to look at from a modern perspective, private life, personality, scandals etc.]

To spice things up a little and stress the hopefully entertaining nature and subjectivity of this venture, I, by my Divine Right of… well, Just Because I Can Without You Being Able to Do Anything About It, have added the following codicil to my grading system:

Radegonde’s Royal Prerogative:

Seeing as I reign supreme, I get to award or deduct a crown (= three points; the equivalent of a full category) to a monarch of my choosing. There is only one deduction, and one addition.

A few caveats and introductory observations:

This is my, and I cannot stress this enough, very subjective reply to a question decidedly asking for said subjectivity. Depending on your historical or political sympathies, you might have a very different idea of it all, and that is totally fine! This post is not meant to be a definitive ranking, but a hopefully somewhat entertaining personal reply to a question that might be answered differently, depending on your chosen categories, personal affinities etc. I invite everyone to discuss, and share their own opinion in the notes or as a reblog.

This analysis does not necessarily represent my general opinion on the (Stuart) monarchy as an institution, but merely aims to compare people served in the same governmental capacity.

The main idea for the categories Reign and (Political) Legacy is to analyse the monarchs from a perspective focussing on the people in the British Isles (i.e. majority-white and Anglican at this point in time), and does explicitly not contain the nuance to take the experiences of individuals or specific marginalised groups into account— this would probably far exceed the scope of this post, which at its heart, is still a semi-serious piece mainly written as a blend of giving my opinion, providing a groundwork of information for people to start their own research off of, and of course, amuse.

William and Mary, though co-monarchs, will be treated separately since Mary took over government during William’s frequent absences (albeit while still exchanging letters with him), and William ruled for another 8 years following Mary’s death.

Without any further ado, let's go through the 7 Stuarts to sit on the throne of England (and in case of one of them, Britain) chronologically:

James I

Reign: believing in witches and writing a book called Demonology which added fuel to the often quite literal fires associated with witch hunts, putting his lovers into high government offices do not sent him off to a promising start. He is also responsible for the King James Bible, though, and some sympathy for a difficult early reign, coming to the throne as a child (and one at that who was groomed by an older man, his cousin Esmé Stuart), earn him a point. 1/5

(Political) Legacy: Technically, James should score here but he does not, since the legacy he leaves, lasting until this day, is not a positive one. Luckily, people no longer take inspiration from his book and burn witches at the stake, but by having commenced the Plantation of Ulster, which is the root of the modern Northern Ireland conflict (later on, William III is merely the symptom of James’ politics), I cannot give him more than one point for indeed leaving a legacy. 1/5

Fascination Factor: Bisexuality, male lovers who run the government, coming to the throne as a child because your cousin, who had your mother executed, dies? There sure is something to unpack here. 3/5

TOTAL: 5

Charles I

Reign: Originally not destined to be king and bullied by a physically healthier, and all-around beloved older brother, Charles came to the throne believing he had to prove himself, and failed abysmally. He failed so badly that he got his subscription to life, and England’s subscription to the institution of monarchy, cancelled. He gets one point for trying, but trying and tyranny both start with the same letter in this case, if you get my meaning. 1/5

(Political) Legacy: When your legacy is Oliver Cromwell and a ban on all fun things like partying, theatre and Christmas, you surely cannot expect to get a single point from me, who loves all these things. 0/5

Fascination Factor: There is something to be said for him having, at least in his private life, been a good man who loved his family, but while that wins you sympathy, it does not win you a crown. 1/5

TOTAL: 2

Charles II

Reign: It’s the Merry Monarch himself! He’s part Scottish, French, Italian, a little bit Dane, but 100% party animal, champagne! The king who brought both partying and the crown back actually has a very mixed record, especially when regarding his foreign policy and tendency to eye French support (and through the latter, Catholicism) more keenly than a great many of his subjects were comfortable with (see the Treaty of Dover for just one example), and had to face several military defeats (nobody mention Michiel de Ruyter and the Medway to him). That said, Charles proved he had a hands-on attitude during the Great Fire of London and, despite his many fights with Parliament, quite popular with his subjects. 2/5

(Political) Legacy: In the absence of male heirs, it was expected quite early on that his brother James would follow him to the throne. While leaving the kingdom stabilised and ensuring a peaceful succession, Charles can be partially blamed for not keeping James, the walking PR- and personal disaster of a Stuart, on a tighter leash during his lifetime, and being way too soft with his oldest illegitimate son, James, Duke of Monmouth, who ended up rebelling against his eponymous uncle claiming Charles had actually been married to his mother, Lucy Walter. That being said, leaving a stable realm to a known Catholic successor, and by the wealth of his illegitimate children repopulating the somewhat depleted ranks of the British nobility is no mean feat: when the present-day Prince of Wales will ascend the throne, he’ll be the first direct descendant of Charles II to wear the crown— Old Rowley has clearly been playing the long game. 2/5

Fascination Factor: Charles’ hedonistic court full of mistresses, wits, sexual promiscuity, partying and general merriment continues to enthral. Charles himself was known to be funny and good at engineering humorous ripostes and one-liners; with the women in his life, Charles seems to have enjoyed rather respectful relationships, to the point that it was rumoured that he enjoyed them twisting him around their little finger. He did get on people’s nerves a little though for forever retelling the story of his escape from England as Prince of Wales and letting his spaniels eat off the table. Anyway, 5/5.

TOTAL: 9

James II

Reign: There is not much to expect of a man nicknamed Dismal Jimmy by his brother’s mistress, and Séamus a' chaca (James the Shit) by the population of an entire island. And really, there was not. While a point is to be made that especially as a young man soldiering in foreign service, James proved he was brave in the field, the older Jamie, who, according to his brother had “the soul of a medieval pope” only got himself into hot water for a) having turned Catholic and b) living his religion a little too publicly for his majority-Anglican subjects who equated the latter with absolutism. He had no sense for what the times called for politically and alienated his subjects, and closest family members. I don’t need to go into the whole Glorious Revolution here, but suffice to say that it takes a special kind of not-clever to have your enemy help you escape the country. I will award him one point for having attempted to work towards religious toleration, however poorly he went about it. 1/5

(Political) Legacy: He got himself exiled by his own daughter and son-in-law and alienated about everyone and was absolutely tone-deaf to the political currents of the time. He’s also the reason why British heirs to the throne today are barred from being or, God forbid, marrying a Catholic. He gets one point for being the father of subsequent queens Mary and Anne. 1/5

Fascination Factor: Like his older brother, James was a womaniser extraordinaire; only, he lacked Charles’ sense, charm and wit (and actual respect for his sexual partners), and could be heard trying to impress women by talking about dislocated shoulders, or horseshoes. His main selling point was being the King’s brother. Dirty Jamie, who shared an uncomfortable amount of similarities with the current Duke of York regarding his sexual preferences, also performed sex acts in public, and tried to get rid of his fiancée by claiming she had gotten pregnant by someone who was Certainly Not Him. It appears that his fervent Catholicism didn’t keep him from being a serial cheater, and later in life, while in exile, he tried to break up his oldest daughter’s marriage, and then forbade mourning for her when she died. An absolute class act. He gets 2/5 for being a mess, a menace to society (particularly 15-20-year-old women and girls), and going to mass a little too obviously.

Total: 4

William III

Reign: That’s a tough one. There is his successful takeover of the throne, not done since William the Conqueror in 1066, but there also was a lasting antipathy towards him on account of him being perceived as a foreigner, something pretty much evened out in the public’s eye by his wife’s popularity. While William’s reign was a time of domestic stability, his main focus lay on the Netherlands, and his continental dispute with Louis XIV. His interest in England itself was marginal beyond its taxes, but he did run the government efficiently, understanding the measures the time required, and getting along more smoothly with Parliament than his predecessors. 3/5

(Political) Legacy: He is largely forgotten in the Netherlands, and in Britain, he is largely only remembered for being Protestant and ousting James II. The Defender of the Faith’s more unsavoury legacy, though not one he was personally involved in, is in the Northern Ireland conflict where Protestants regard him as a figurehead of their cause. The fact of the matter is however that for William, it never was about England, Britain, and certainly not (the future Northern) Ireland. He did not strive to become king because he was so fondly attached to England (in fact, he pretty much detested all of his maternal Stuart relatives except for Mary and the polluted air of London caused him to have violent asthma attacks), or indeed because he genuinely cared for the plight of English Protestants. William understood that he could use the politics of religion as were prevalent in his day to his advantage in his fight against Louis XIV on the continent. By winning the English crown, William could expect to gain access to a vast amount of financial and military resources. William was, in fact, rather tolerant when it came to religious matters, but knew how to use his own. Sorry, Brits. What William really cared for were not England, and not even Protestants in general— his one true love, Mary aside, were the Netherlands. From another perspective however, we have to give William credit for establishing, among others, lasting institutions such as the Bank of England and introducing the freedom of the press! All things considered, he was modestly-sized man who left a big legacy. 4/5

Fascination Factor: William, perceived as cold, aloof and rumoured to be homosexual, was anything but. Away from the public eye, the chronically ill man who very much relied on a show of strength to brush over his so-perceived physical incapacities from his chronic illnesses to being all of 5 inches shorter than his wife, was a kind and caring man who melted into a puddle around children and loved his wife more than his kingdom. His attitude to women was surprisingly open-minded, as letters show, most tellingly one written to his best friend as a young Stadholder, asking how he might discreetly help a young Dutch noblewoman whose name had been dragged through the mud after an unplanned pregnancy. According to some of Mary’s early letters, William was also a generous lover, and their love, which grew over time so strong that William, whose physical and mental health had collapsed so greatly when she died that it was feared he would die of a broken heart, refused to remarry out of grief, and wearing her wedding ring, which he had worked into a locket containing some of her hair, around his neck that was only discovered after his death. Whatever the rumours might say, it’s unlikely he ever had any illicit lovers, so we shall deduct a point for not delivering on the saucy intrigue front. Rather disappointingly, the biggest scandal he ever caused as King of England was The Peas Incident. 4/5

TOTAL: 11

Mary II

Reign: Mary came to the throne when she, jointly with her husband, deposed her father during the Glorious Revolution. While generally seen as subservient and obedient to William, whom she installed as co-monarch, it is important to note that Mary was never expected to be queen, and had been raised rather neglectfully, with little other instruction aside from writing fluently enough to make herself understood, French and dancing. She was however a clever woman aware of her shortcomings, and despite her weak eyesight an avid reader, seeking to better her education. Taking this into account, she actually displayed considerable political acumen by appointing William her co-monarch and letting him take over the reins of day-to-day business, since he had been, ever since his childhood, prepared to become a head of state in his own right. When William was away however, Mary proved, that while she did not like reigning much and always feared that she would not live up to the job, she was more than capable at handling day-to-day politics on her own. Apart from that, she stabilised the kingdom after the Glorious Revolution with her mere presence, since she was exceedingly popular, whereas William, despite being half-English himself, was eyed with suspicion on account of being a foreigner. And perhaps, there also lies some strength in not wanting to be queen; humbleness, and a will to use her position to better the lives of people in need marked Mary’s rule. 3/5

(Political) Legacy: Mary’s political legacy is very much the same as William’s, since they reigned jointly until her death. Mary’s charity was renowned, and she was influential in introducing pet goldfish and white and blue porcelain to Britain. 3/5 politically since she did take the passenger seat ruling, and a further point for charity work, porcelain and goldfish! 4/5

Fascination Factor: Mary’s life was short, and marked by tragedy. Having lost her mother young, it was by no means expected for a long time that Mary would one day become queen. Married off at 15 to a certain Dutch cousin, Mary quickly overcame the initial shock of having been swiftly uprooted from her home, and instantly became popular with the Dutch and, to everyone’s surprise, her husband, with whom she ended up in a relationship akin to those in the romance novels she enjoyed so much. Some of Mary’s letters, preserved by William, have been published and reveal just how much she loved him, sometimes to the point of musing that she would never wish to outlive him as she would not be able to live without him by her side. Other notable professions include her near-blaspheming that if she could not have a child with him, she would not want to have “the child of an angel”. Indeed, it was her childlessness that haunted Mary throughout her life, believing that such was a divine punishment for having broken the Ten Commandments by having deposed her father. Beneath the melancholy, deeply religious queen however hid a lively young woman who would make the odd saucy joke about herself, ice skate with her skirts rucked up, and dance the night away. The tragic story of a dreamer, a romantic heart that had to grow up too quickly, too soon. 5/5

TOTAL: 12

Anne

Reign: Anne’s reputation has certainly suffered from the unfavourable lens of later (male) historians; generally speaking, her reign was one of relative internal stability, not at least because Anne, contrary in particular to her father and uncle, managed to maintain a working relationship with parliament. The Treaty of Utrecht even marked an end on armed hostilities between Britain and France, and Britain could establish itself during the Wars of the Spanish Succession, as a major player in (Continental-) European politics. I am however taking one point off my original score for her husband’s management of the Royal Navy and the influence wielded by some of her favourites. 3/5

(Political) Legacy: Under Anne, Louis XIV recognised the Hanoverian succession, and from 1707 onwards, Anne became the first British monarch following the Act of Union between England and Scotland. Anne was also a noted patron of the arts, whose name has become a label for architecture and furniture of the period. Among those who profited from the Queen’s protection were such household names as Georg Friedrich Händel, whom she presented with an annuity, and Isaac Newton. 4/5

Fascination Factor: …Lasting enough that there is a good chance many of you might have watched, or at least heard of the 2018 film The Favourite, a fictionalised take on Anne and her (potentially sexual and romantic) attachment to two of her courtiers, the Duchess of Marlborough and Abigail Hill. Her fairly recent appearance in the entertainment media aside, Anne’s life was no less tragic than her sister’s; having lost all of her 17 (!) children and her husband and suffering from increasingly ill health, Anne persevered. Looking at the lonely last Stuart monarch as merely the dour, stout lady from the portraits is missing a lot; Anne was instrumental in convincing her older sister that their father’s second wife’s pregnancy was a sham, and, observing the rule of her sister and brother-in-law, decided that she would do things differently when she would come to the throne. Obscured by discussions of her health and pregnancies (and occasionally, potential female lovers), the real Anne rarely emerges. 5/5 TOTAL: 12

The Result:

But wait, we almost forgot something there! Now, for the definitive result by addition of

Radegonde’s Royal Prerogative:

I have thought long and hard about this, and have decided to award my crown to Mary II. Contrary to her sister Anne, she had no time to learn and observe ruling the country as a female monarch, and, also having never received an education fit for an heir to the throne, was actually sensible in letting William take over the day-to-day business. That said, Mary grew with the tasks set before her, and proved adept at ruling in William’s absence. I will also add that perhaps, Mary not having a decided interest in power and ruling made her all the better as a monarch, since she did not look for personal glory, but simply doing her job as smoothly and as well as possible.

Now the nice has been talked about, let’s proceed to the naughty: I have thought long and hard about this, and was torn between, ahem, rewarding either James I and James II with the dubious dishonour of a triple deduction of points, and have at last decided to award it to James I, on account of, you know, essentially kickstarting a yet unresolved conflict and hunting witches. James II has already managed to lose his crown all by himself, he doesn’t need my help.

So this is my final result:

There you have it.

I hope, Anon, this answers your question?

#history #the stuarts #17th century #james i #charles i #charles ii #james ii #william iii #william of orange #mary ii #queen anne #history humour #ask #ask reply #anon #stuartposting #stuart #british history #r rambles #early modern europe

[whocanretell]

Hi everyone. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to have this be my first foray back into Tumblr RP after my inadvertent hiatus, but as someone who has watched their friends be harassed and stalked by Valentine, I can no longer in good conscience stay silent. I stayed quiet because I didn’t want to make things worse for anyone, but at this point, I feel it’s better for everything to be out in the open. I unfortunately do not have screenshots for a lot of what I’m about to talk about because it was five years ago andI didn’t think to hoard evidence on people I considered my friends. Frankly, I had no idea that things with Valentine (who I knew as Laurel) would have progressed as they did and hopefully, my account of my experience with them will shed some light on the subject.

I first met Valentine through Merc shortly after I entered the DA Tumblr RPC in late June/early July of 2017 playing The Iron Bull. My URL at the time was afirmbelieverinnopantsfridays and I was one of the only Iron Bulls at the time in the Tumblr RPC. Merc and I had taken a chance on each other because she was attempting to start up a roleplay exchange and I joined her Discord along with a few other roleplayers who would become some of my best friends. Valentine was not in this Discord, but I had seen them interacting with her and decided to give them a follow, even though I was lukewarm on their character, Astor Hawke. We hit it off fairly quickly and had been friends for probably about the space of a month when they asked if I was interested in shipping Astor and Bull together. 

Initially, I said we could try it out and asked them about the dynamic they had in mind. They told me what they envisioned was that Astor and Bull would meet during Inquisition at some point and Astor’s interest would initially be piqued by his fetish for Qunari, but would turn into a genuine relationship based on mutual respect and affection. I pointed out that Astor fetishizing Bull would make it substantially harder to do because he got that a lot in the South and keeping in mind the racial politics of the game setting, it would not make him feel positively towards Astor. They said they were committed to Astor doing the work on his own and I said okay, but to keep our discussion in mind. They sent me a couple of asks, which I did answer, but we never developed any threads. 

Shortly after that, as my friendships with Merc and Valtielt developed, we joined Reese’s Discord server. Valentine asked if they could be an admin fairly early on and we all agreed because we didn’t foresee it being an issue. I had noticed their aggressive and persistent vaguing on the dash, sometimes directed at people I considered friends and mutuals, but fortunately, Valentine was too busy with their ships at the time to pay much attention to me. 

As time went on, Merc had begun to talk to us in her own server about her interactions with Valentine and the person she chose to call Blue (who was also a victim but very much an enabler of Valentine’s behavior towards Merc and was her right hand on the dash). I had to be careful about what I said because it was clear that Merc was in a really rough place and that she needed a friend more than she needed me telling her to cut Valentine and Blue out of her life for being terrible friends. They were emotional vampires who would make fun of her for having a panic attack and dismiss her suicidal thoughts and feelings. They would tell her that she was a bad friend for being mentally ill and not supporting them in the way that they chose or get upset that she was having a normal reaction to negative and shitty things going on in her life. 

I was there in Reese’s Discord for the Squid incident, which came after that, and I cannot stress enough that it was peacefully resolved. When Valentine blew up at Merc in private DMs, she told us in her private server that we shared because she was so blindsided. Naturally, we were all appalled and that was the point where I decided that I would start privately distancing myself from Valentine. It was not difficult to do because they weren't paying much attention to me and spent most of their time posting about their existing partners or vaguing angrily on the dash. 

Sometime after that, I called out a roleplay musings blog for making a post using the translated slogan of the Auschwitz concentration camp, “Work will make you free”, as an aesthetic. This was not the first time I had called out a blog for antisemitism,and unfortunately, not the first time they reacted badly. Valentine came into my DMs to quietly support me and told me that they were Jewish. I thanked them for sharing that with me and said that I understood why they kept it quiet because racism in the American Jewish community against Jews of color. I do not doubt that Valentine is Jewish, but it is the fact that Valentine is Jewish that made the incident Merc described in Reese’s server with the Holocaust memorial photo absolutely fucking galling. I helped Merc write that part of her callout because I remembered that incident so clearly and I would have never known that Valentine, a fellow Jew, had given her shit for it because my non-Jewish friend Merc came to me privately in DMs because she felt I had a right to know what was happening.

I should not need to say to a fellow Jew that Holocaust memorial photos are never just “photos”. I should not need to say to a fellow Jew that it doesn’t need to be Auschwitz for me to get mad at people making our ancestors’ traumatic,unjust deaths into moodboard photos for their aesthetic. My blood boils to this day just thinking about it, but every word Merc wrote is true. 

I thought about blocking Valentine in Reese’s server after that, but ultimately didn’t because my life outside roleplay got in the way. I was not sure how to disentangle myself because I had seen the way they reacted to others who cut them off or upset them and decided that muting them on my dash and not engaging was the path of least resistance. Then, it turned out I didn’t have to work too hard because I watched Valentine blow up Reese’s server for no reason and hold it hostage. 

We were talking in the trigger warning chat about comedy and somehow, the subject of Bill Maher came up for the first time. My friend Tasmin noted that he was transphobic and a couple of other people chimed in. We were about to move on when Valentine came in there out of nowhere and said that with their authority as a mod, they were banning the topic of Bill Maher because “you guys get so fucking extra all the time”. All of us, who had watched Valentine vague and rant on the dash with impunity, were blindsided. I and a couple of other people pointed out that Valentine was the one who had made it a problem, the server had been drama free because we had resolved problems peacefully, and we were all adults who didn’t appreciate being treated like children. Valentine refused to apologize or step down as a mod, so we went to Reese. 

Reese spoke with Valentine privately, then let us know that not only was Valentine refusing to apologize and step down as a mod, but that they had threatened to nuke the server if he tried to remove them. Valentine almost deleted that entire server and held it hostage from its rightful owner because they would have rather buried it than taken accountability for making a mistake and apologizing. We ended up leaving en masse after that because there was nothing that we could do and Reese understood why we didn’t want to stay.

I didn’t speak to Valentine for a long time after that, which is why I was so surprised when they approached me in DMs a couple of months later. I had quietly deleted every ask they had sent me because I knew blocking them would set them off, which wasn’t many and could easily be explained away by Tumblr eating it. I responded to what they said, but didn’t engage beyond that and we were talking about their character Astor and roleplay. Valentine mentioned a talent of his among many others and then went on to explain to me that he was incredibly good at so many things because “the autistics……their intelligence is amazing.” 

That’s a verbatim quote. I remember it in perfect clarity because I was so angry. My high school best friend, who I loved like a brother, was autistic. Additionally, my mother was a psychology professor and while I was never a student in her classes, I had learned about the ableism in the savant model from her and why that was so particularly damaging and harmful to autistic people. I did not know whether Valentine was autistic or not and frankly, I did not care because you can be disabled and still uphold ableism that harms others. 

I went silent and then never spoke to Valentine again. Frankly, I was waiting for them to ask me why because I was ready to tear them a new one. In retrospect, I’m glad they didn’t because I would have made things worse for Valtiel and Merc, and I don’t want this to happen to anyone else who reads this. Please block this person and don’t engage. It is not worth the cost of your mental health or your wellbeing. 

And Valentine, yimakh sh’mo, since I know you’re reading this, gai kaken offen yom. 

#hey no pants friday is a cause | ooc #callout tw #callout cw #antisemitism cw #ableism cw #ableism tw #antisemitism tw #holocaust cw #holocaust tw

[barbara-herself]

On grief

Last time I talked to my mother was nine months ago. She had called me out of the blue from a new number, since I had her old one blocked, as well as her social media for a few years now. We talked for four hours, which started off well and promising, but quickly turned into one of her narcissistic and manipulative rants.

However terrible was the trauma that she made me go through, I had grieved her loss in many ways, making that phone call rather shocking. I became irritated for weeks, and I didn't understand why. Granted, she managed to reach me in a quite stressful moment of my life, but the idea of talking to someone who was a ghost in my subconscious shook me up a lot. It made me angry and sad, because up until then I thought I had handled my emotions relating my mother pretty well.

I have to keep reminding myself that at one point, she was the most important person in my life. I cannot just forget all about her like a bad ex boyfriend. I genuinely looked up to her and wanted to be like her. We were very close, or so she kept me that way to weaponize me against the other members of my family. Regardless, our family is now broken, and I am still grieving.

I do believe that deep down, underneath all her trauma, there used to be a beautiful mind. I don't think she was born that way. She had built many walls around her heart, scared of what it might be telling her to do, and with enough time, self-sabotage, stress and pain she became a full blown narcissist. I remember once, when I was in my early teens, she spoke to me calmly - we had a nice back-and-forth conversation, not a deranged rant at me. At that moment, she was completely aware of her own toxicity, and confessed that she had no idea what to do with it, as she felt it consume her.

I wish she didn't have to go through that much pain. It would have broken anyone. However, in no way can it ever justify the way she behaved as a mother.

I'm in the late, long-lasting stages of grief now. I don't think about her all the time or I don't get angry about the memories I have of her. I'm trying my best not to pity myself too much, but simply accept my reality for what it was. I carry her memory in family recipes and funny phrases she used. I'm still very scared that I will turn out like her, although I believe I am doing everything in my power not to, and that's already a lot. I don't know if I have forgiven her, but at least I have accepted my situation.

#writing #writers on tumblr #words #writers and poets #spilled words #spilled thoughts #grief #trauma #narcissism

[utilitycaster]

Still thinking about Neverafter and here are my thoughts re the options.

I should note: I do think this fight was winnable. The comparisons to the Fantasy High episode 2 fight in which they spent so much time jumping on tables instead of actually attacking that two party members died feel apt, and also, and I cannot stress this enough, they rolled terribly. It was definitely a very difficult fight, and I think character death was very likely, but the way Brennan ran it late in the game made me feel this was not a deliberate kill them all scenario but rather, it went particularly badly. Which is good! It's the horror season, which in my mind means TPKs are fully appropriate. (I haven't been watching adventuring party really, so uh, if this turns out not to be the case and Brennan intended a TPK let me know but that's not the vibe I'm getting). Anyway.

Timeloop...ish. Naturally, one in which they retain their memories and even, hopefully, level up, and perhaps some things have changed because otherwise that gets boring, but I've seen people throw out that it fits with the idea that fairytales get retold and changed in the retelling and I agree. (Also, fwiw: I only support this because of the TPK. If it had been only 1-3 deaths I think you roll new characters, but if everyone dies that provides a stage for resetting.)

New characters. I actually don't think this is a bad idea, though it does mean we drop some intriguing threads; sometimes that happens. It's early enough that you could still tell a complete story with new characters. I think I'd feel differently if we were 7 episodes in, but we're early enough that if you have them roll characters with connections to the previous ones it will feel like a coherent story with a prelude, which is pretty neat.

I wondered if the charisma saves were about whether your character could be brought back through something, but it seems not, and also Ylfa was the only success which would make this weird unless paired with some other mechanics. That said, idk, the land is cursed, the dead don't stay dead, the fairy godmother exploded fairy dust all over the field; you have a lot of leeway specifically because of the setting.

#neverafter spoilers #dimension 20 spoilers

[broadwaytheanimatedseries]

So I've had these two ideas for a while now...

Keep in mind, neither of them are necessarily Wuko exclusive, but they did both come to me in the Wuko context because I have Ship Brainrot™ so it can't be helped.

Concept 1: Wu can fight, Mako was just teaching him wrong.

So the thing about Mako's fighting style is that it's very specific to him, as a mixture of him being raised on the street, and then growing up to be the firebending teammate on a pro bending team.

For all of these reasons, not to mention his physicality being quite different than Wu's, his fighting style was never gonna work for the prince.

So in my humble opinion, Wu should have been taught by kyoshi warriors.

Not only is it an earth kingdom tradition that was created by the citizens in self defense, rather than the monarchy trying to maintain any shred of its relevance, but it's also a fighting style that prioritizes momentum and dexterity over muscle and brutal force.

Besides, unlike Sokka who had to outgrow his toxic masculinity and learn to be comfortable with wearing a dress, Wu would be all over the aesthetics of the Kiyoshi warriors.

Overall being an elegant dance fighter suits him a lot better than the martial arts Mako was trying to teach him.

Alternatively, (or maybe even in addition), I could definitely see him picking up chi blocking... That is if he can muster the attention span to properly learn it.

I love him but I also project onto him because I see a lot of my own ADHD refleced in his behaviour.

The way this manifests in a Wuko context to me is a very tense and homerotic sparring session, where Wu is eager to show Mako what he's learned since the last time they were in this position, and Mako is very distracted by both his attire and his quite impressive fighting skills.

Concept 2: the one that is unlikely

This one is borderline ridiculous, so bear with me here.

Wu has secretly been an airbender this whole time.

Ever since season 3, to be precise.

So technically much like the first one, there's nothing in canon to suggest that it isn't true, but it's a much harder sell.

That being said, I really like the potential of it.

Most notably, the fact that it's the only type of bending that it would make sense for him to have hidden even until now.

During season 3 he would have been hiding it for the obvious reason of his great aunt being terrible and building an army of child soldiers, which would also explain why he was never established in season 3 if he was trying to keep a low profile, for once in his life.

But then in season 4, where you would assume that he wouldn't have to worry about that anymore, there's still Kuvira's loyalists being a security threat and, I cannot stress this enough, his own great aunt being choked to death by an airbender.

Add to all that the fact that his great aunt would have been a threat to his freedom and well being, something neither she nor anyone other than Wu himself would have known, and it's no wonder that he's eager to take the throne and ensure his own security and agency over his own life.

And it would also be equally understandable why even after her death and Zaheer being locked up, Wu would still be deeply terrified about even attempting to learn more about his new ability, let alone tell anyone about it so that they might be able to help him develop it.

The way this manifests in a Wuko context to me, is a situation where for once Mako is the one in danger and without even thinking about it, Wu jumps to his rescue and accidentally airbends while he's at it. surprising all those present and potentially sending him into a little bit of a panic because

oh no I just airbended, she's going to find out, she'll send me down there, I could have hurt someone, I can't stay here I have to run I have to hide I have to get out of here -

And Mako would help him calm down and safely get out of there, as possibly the only person that Wu trusts implicitly and wholeheartedly.

Anyway those are my ideas, you're all welcome to use them just please like credit or at least tag me, so that I can see what better writers can do with them.

#wuko #dee writes #dee's aus #yeah I think this counts as an au #avatar the legend of korra

[tanoraqui]

Thoughts on the Halls of Mandos, and Fingolfin Specifically

[AO3]

First: the Halls of Mandos can be a prison, yes, but the way a prison should be: a place for rehabilitation, with release based on the spirit’s readiness to rejoin the world. This goes for those whose fëa have been marred by hurt received and hurt dealt alike. Some of its hallways lead into the Halls of Mandos’s wife, Vairë, where the tapestries of history show the great tales of which each soul is but a part—the how you got here, the what happened after you passed. On their either side, they abut the Gardens of Irmo his brother and Este, Irmo’s wife, Lord of Dreams and Lady of Healing. And their sister Nienna ever wanders through all, sharing griefs which ease for the sharing.

The standard course of events in Mandos is to start in a very formless isolation that’s basically…sleep. Restorative sleep for the soul, however long this particular fëa needs to recover from the general stresses and specific traumas of life. It’s not induced, no more than with maybe the spiritual equivalent of a Benadryl—it’s just the natural response of a weary fëa (and all, or almost all, the just-dead are weary) to finding a safe place to rest.

At first it’s gentle oblivion, some sloughing off of the natural metaphorical grime of weariness, of the fear/rage/sorrow/despair of the moment of death...

Then the fëa starts to dream, to dream their own memories. They may re-enact, they may observe from outside...

They will start to interact with other dead who share the same memories (from different perspectives of course). Or those who share similar memories - the same places at different times, the same vivid emotions in different circumstances... The memory-scenery starts to fade and you are in grey and foggy hallways, or however the Halls of Mandos might manifest to you (it varies, but it’s never brightly colored). For a while you wander: you walk in the Halls or in memory, your memories or others’. You speak with those with whom you wish to speak and who wish to speak with you. (Both must be willing. Consent is rarely explicit, eg, asked for by some attendant Maiar; it’s just required by the nature of the Halls.)

Pivotally, you work out enough of your personal psychological issues that you’re ready, or nearly ready, to return to life. For some, it’s simple relaxing and recovery from an unexpected death. For others, it’s realizing that maybe you were a homicidal maniac blinded by your own pride, us-vs-them loyalty, and [helplessness/despair/guilt/secondhand daddy issues] converted to rage and murder like coal is converted to steam, and you feel bad about that and kinda want to apologize to people now, and to not do any of it ever again (not to that extent, at least).

(For a very few, you have cursed yourself with an oath to Eru Himself, a permanent dreadful leitmotif in your part of the Song, a scar seared so deep into your spirit that it cannot be healed until the very Remaking of Arda, such that even if you heal enough to acknowledge that this was a terrible idea begat of terrible motivations and you regret everything you did, everything that happened as consequence, the Halls of Mandos must be a permanent prison indeed because never unto the End of Arda will you be free of the blind and burning drive that lit you that night, so even with good intentions you are not safe to return to a land where Eärendil sails in peace each night...)

(At the end of the First Age, the Doom on the Exiled Noldor was lifted such that those left alive could return by ship to blissful Western shores. The only remotely fair interpretation is thus that the ban against those who’d died returning to new bodies in the West was also lifted. It might take many of them centuries, even Ages, to be ready to return, but I think they’ll all do it...except Fëanor and his sons, as indicated above.)

(Unless... But that’s a headcanon for another day.)

So you’re ready, or nearly ready, to return to life—what now? Well, first, for the first time you’re allowed to wander fully into Vaire’s halls and see the weavings of the present and recent past. Before that, you could see the part of her Halls that blur into Mandos’ with tapestries of ages long past, or ages you lived and now walk in memory. Some people, mostly at Vairë and Mandos’s will, see tapestries of the consequences of their lives. But once you’re nearly ready to leave, you get to visit the showings of current(ish) events—a mercy to let souls catch up a little. 

(Possibly this started when they had several hundred (thousand?) Noldor who felt much better now but were Doomed to stay houseless. and/or who weren’t quite well but nor were even more Sindar, Avari, etc...and it was Decided that either it was fair or it really would help them, psychologically, to watch highlights of the War of Wrath in realtime as Vairë and her Maiar spun them on the Looms of History. The Valar were probably already considering lightening the Doom—and you know what, it did hasten the healing of many fëa, to watch their remaining kin not just still fighting but winning; to see Melkor shoved to his knees and bound in chains, and the crown ripped from his head. The relief and acceptance of knowing you are dead and the long struggle is no longer your problem is nothing, sometimes, to the relief of knowing that the fight is won at last.)

For some, this visit to Vairë’s Halls is a useful catch-up. For others, however, it is a test that they fail, for the sight of current events sends them reeling back into the safety/grief of memory, or into the rage and loathing of their first life which marks them unready to leave. Some things can be hard to bear, and Mandos (the Valar, the Halls) don’t release anyone unready to be at least functional and civil in the world they will re-enter.

...Headcanon part 2: with all of the above being standard, Fingolfin does it completely backwards.

Fingolfin arrives in Mandos actually pretty emotionally healthy in terms of…relationships to others and self-awareness of his own faults. Ready to rejoin society peacefully, essentially; ready to reconcile with even those with whom he’d been at direst odds. I headcanon Fingolfin as doing a lot of thinking and introspection during his time as King in Middle Earth, and before that on the Ice—the “what the fuck am I doing here and why” kind of introspection; the “I need to self-evaluate if I’m going to be a responsible and effective king—self-evaluate for real now, not the consideration I used to do back in Tirion with the main goal of bettering my attack strategy for the next day at court” kind of introspection. The “shit, Father, Fëanor and I ALL fucked up, and I’d give anything to just be able to talk to them both” kind of introspection.

With a healthy dose of “all grievances pale in comparison to the evil we all now face, which we must face together or fail utterly” and the ability (which he always had) to genuinely act in accordance with that no matter his pettier personal feelings. 

(Unfortunately, this determined sense of responsibility was a major factor in his snap into divinely shining, suicidal rage/despair...)

Fingolfin also arrives in Mandos very…let’s generously say energetic. His despair was NOT the sort where you lie down and rest, even after you’re killed. (Nor was Feanor’s, but Feanor was maybe given, like, spiritual morphine upon arriving in Mandos, and/or a whole wing of the Halls just for him to rage in until his tantrum eased. But this ain’t about him, for once.) Fingolfin arrives still alight with all the fire in his soul, and if it was less hot than his older brother’s it was no less bright. He is restless and he undeniably died nobly, albeit passively suicidally, and all the Maiar of Mandos are impressed and maybe even a little intimidated. So they just kinda…let him wander.

First, though— When Fingolfin died, the battle was still ongoing in many parts of Beleriand. Dorthanion was still aflame, orcs were just barely being pushed back in the southeast, Himring and Barad Eithel both stood only at grim cost... By the time his spirit reaches Mandos, he’s picked up a train of at least two dozen other houseless spirits fleeing Westward. So Fingolfin, starting to calm down but still alight, makes sure to see each of them to their rest…then immediately asks to see that the others who’d recently died were similarly safe and healing.

And so for many years he wanders Mandos’s halls, blinding starlight in the shape of an elf slowly dimming (healthily!). He sees that all who could be gathered are safe at rest, and those already awake well on their way to healing (Argon his youngest son, slain by orcs in their first battle! Elenwë his daughter-in-law, lost on the Ice!) He greets newcomers as they wake, telling them that they fought well and no more could’ve been asked of them—which many need to hear from their king. He promises that those who remain will continue the fight but it is no longer the problem of the dead, because he knows that’s what they need to hear in order to heal. Maybe he’s even able to greet Men as they pass through, who knows?

(He could get fresh news from them, at least—the fëa of Men don’t instinctively rest; rather, they wake even further, with the draw of Beyond. Energetic though he is, Fingolfin is not allowed into Vairë’s present-weaving Halls until the War of Wrath, possibly not until its last battles.)

After the War, the Exiles are deemed forgiven—the living might sail home; the dead might re-embody, if they were well enough. Fingolfin keeps doing his best to help people get to that wellness. He wanders gently through many memories. He even, on his own behalf, eventually speaks to Fëanor.

(Further clarification: houseless fëa may meet, converse, reunite in Mandos, but it’s...one cannot grow or change in Mandos’s Halls, not truly, for that is the prerogative of the living. They can experience revelation, vow to act differently in the future; they can reconcile with lost kith and kin or even form entirely new friendships—and in many cases, they must do some of these in order to heal enough to leave! 

But when they re-embody, the memories of Mandos are like a fading dream, as are any changes of heart. Elves leave Mandos with a strong sense that they are ready to return to their old lives and/or to make a fresh start, but any interactions or realizations while dead were...a mostly-forgotten trial run. A dress rehearsal that leaves lingering muscle memory. Because of them, in life the words will come easier, the understanding, the forgiveness and repentance. You may meet someone for the first time and know them instantly as a friend. But the true bonds must be forged, or reforged, in life.)

It takes a long time for many of the not-survivors of Beleriand to heal (and even some of the Valinorean Host!) For centuries after the lifting of the Doom, Fingolfin sees to his people, as bit by bit the intensity of his dying flame fades. And as time goes on, he wanders more through his own memories as well, finally taking time to not just reflect on his and others’ choices but to mourn, which he’s mostly treated as an indulgence these past hundreds of years. Oh, he was sensible enough to put aside time for grieving during his Kingship—but it was calculated time set aside. But now...the world has changed; he could not stop it or save it. And that’s…okay, maybe?

Until finally, even though there are still many of his people unhoused here—including probably half to three-fourths of his children?—he lies down and sleeps at last.

When he wakes, it’s an easy, swift thing, no dreamier than taking a moment or two to lie idly abed on Saturday morning. Or maybe more than a few moments, one last wander through memories of bright streets or tall, mist-shrouded mountains, sliding into grey-shrouded Halls, for the sheer luxury of idleness... 

But there are real bright streets outside, and he can visit fond memories when alive as well, if he chooses. He stands and stretches, metaphorically; declines the chance to pass through Vairë’s halls to skim current events before walking among the living again—asks, maybe, only if all is well in Eldamar, in general? (Eg, am I walking into a war zone?) 

Upon assurance that it is fine, Fingolfin walks back out into the moonlight. 

(I’d say sunlight, but this is Fingolfin, whose arrivals ought always be heralded by the moon. I know it only happened once in canon, but it was narratively VERY sexy, so jot that down.)

#the silmarillion #lotr #eldar #fingolfin #i am at all times gently petting kings of the noldor and telling them to take a nap #ficlet #my fic

[septembersghost]

I hate how some people are making jokes or telling us we can't be sad or that feeling heartache listening to five albums worth of her music right now is hard and we're connecting to her art "wrong" like jfc it's been one day and this is a devastating shock we can be sad for a minute!

absolutely cannot stress enough how completely and entirely NORMAL it is for people to be sad and shaken right now, and it doesn't mean we're interacting with her music incorrectly or too invested or confused and think she's our best friend or something, none of that is true, and people dismissing it as that are the ones seemingly missing the point. when someone you care about is hurt, you hurt for them, it's human. it doesn't matter that we don't know her directly, an inherent bond is in fact formed between us and her music, and there is no getting around the fact that her music is deeply personal and autobiographical, and that a significant portion has been shaped by and written about this relationship - which also isn't a bad thing, it's beautiful! that love was so real and so transformative and such an important lifeline, and we can be grateful forever that she met joe when she did and that he helped her through those terribly dark times and that they supported and loved one another the way they did, when they did. all of that is still true. it's not undone - it was rare, it was there! (to borrow from a different tune) - and they needed it and it served them in lovely ways for as long as it could. the "these songs were about my life, now they're about yours" mentality is all well and good, but sometimes a bit impossible, and that is okay to acknowledge! the idea that you must take context away and only relate them to yourself or your blorbos is a bit silly, they're still taylor's art and diary and life (and you can and should do both!). also i'm gonna be honest here, many of us do not have a love like that to apply them to, so of course the original meaning sticks a bit. fandom acting like it's a sin right now to be thinking of her within her own music and aching for that is ridiculous. that WILL fade with time, but there hasn't been time yet! everyone's just sort of reeling and trying to process. this is collective mourning for many different aspects of things, it's in fact going to be a different bit of sadness for each person even though we're sharing it together, and that's also normal! her music being intensely personal and lyrically poignant gives us that sense of connection and empathy for what she's experienced and what she's shared, and this is the only time when we've experienced her writing about this type of love, the amount of time it's lasted (we are by extension very used to joe having been a constant! six years is a lot! there are many newer fans who've never known taylor without him being a significant factor), and tbh i could go into further detail here about why it's hitting hard and the little griefs everyone has been sorting through today. you can be grateful something happened and grieve its ending, and the ending of any potential future that might've happened, you can hurt for another person simply because you care for them and wish them the best and want them to be happy. it's not invasive when we are fully aware of the boundaries there too. it's okay for the music to sting and be difficult right now because it's about a life that no longer exists - we will all go back to it and reclaim it and feel the warmth and love in it again, we will hold onto that gratitude (i will never not be thankful that joe was in her life exactly when she needed him and helped her the way he did, that she flourished so much personally and creatively in that time, she didn't have to do that work or find that strength alone and that's a wonderful thing too). it's all about understanding those emotions and giving them space and compassion. we need to give grace to taylor and joe, to each other, and to ourselves for anything we're feeling right now.

#*hugs you* #anyone guilt policing or shaming people for being sad or making mean jokes it is on. sight. #anonymous #letterbox #taylor swift #thrown out speeches #don't read the last page #joe alwyn