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#The vast majority sound awful to me

spacelazarwolf · 8 months

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saw a post that gave me an eye twitch so i’m gonna break it down and analyze it bc i feel like it exemplifies a lot of what’s wrong with gentile discourse on i/p rn.

1. yeah, it is awful that zionist institutions and leadership use jewish trauma to justify why diaspora jews should unquestioningly support the current state of israel, regardless of the atrocities it commits against palestinians.

2. "israel is not your bube who survived the shoah" i don't know how to explain to you how fucking callous this sentence is.

3. for better or worse, israel did save jewish people. nearly a million jews from the swana region and 24,000 from ethiopia fled there after experiencing extreme violence and discrimination. you really think america or europe would have taken in a million black and brown jews? have you seen the current state of immigration?

4. "how do you argue with someone when their idea of israel is so rooted in their family trauma?" you don't. you validate their fears, make them feel heard, and then you offer them alternatives. the vast majority of diaspora support for israel is based in fear of persecution and eradication. if you offer real, legitimate solutions for the safety of diaspora jews, i guarantee you will be a thousand times more successful than just screaming at them and telling them "who fucking cares about your holocaust survivor bubbe????"

5. "how do you possibly tell them that the holocaust isn't relevant?" you don't, because it is. nearly 500,000 holocaust survivors moved to or were sent to israel after the shoah. some did not have a choice of where they were sent, some tried to go back to where they were living before but had no money and gentiles had taken their houses and belongings so they had nowhere to go, many faced violence upon trying to return to their hometowns in the form of pogroms, several countries turned them away. you cannot say the holocaust is not relevant to the current israeli population because gentiles in the diaspora are the reason they're there.

6. "i'm so tired of centering jewish identity in discussions over a nation state." are you stupid? genuinely, are you stupid? do you really not see how jewish identity and the history of the jewish people factor into a state with a fucking star of david on the flag that was founded after a genocide of 6 million jews that the rest of the world didn't want to deal with? seriously? no, jews in the diaspora are not responsible for the actions of the israeli government. we aren't more loyal to israel than we are to wherever we're living. but to say that israel has nothing to do with the jewish people is frankly laughable.

7. "how do you say that without sounding invalidating? like that just sounds horrible and antisemitic." that's because it is. you are being horrible and antisemitic.

edited to add: NUCLEAR SUPERPOWER?????????????????????????????? HELLO??????????????????????????

so please for the love of fuck educate yourself on the history of the jewish people and the history of the state of israel before making stupid ass posts like this. israel didn't manifest out of nowhere, it didn't come from "jewish supremacy" it came from hundreds of thousands of jews who were at their wit's fucking end with antisemitism in the diaspora, and from britain's colonization and imperialism paired with it's complete and total disregard for anyone who wasn't racially and culturally white. the monster that is modern day political zionism is a creation of the world's own making. people have been posting a lot about hamas being a response to 70+ years of israeli occupation, violence, and apartheid, but don't seem to understand that israel is a response to 3000+ years of persecution, expulsion, and genocide. the massacres and terror committed by hamas don't take into account the wellbeing of palestinians, and the oppression and violence perpetuated by the israeli government don't take into account the wellbeing of jews in israel or in the diaspora.

nothing will change if gentiles in the diaspora do not take responsibility for the rest of the world's role in the creation of israel. research your country, learn about how they treated their jews (not just during the holocaust but from the moment there were jews in your country), talk to your local jewish population, ask how you and organizations you are part of can help keep the diaspora safe for jews. because as an american jew, i don't want to move to israel. the government is borderline fascist, non ashki non orthodox jews are often seen as second class citizens, i don't speak the language, and my life is here. a lot of diaspora jews feel this way. but every time i see another group of nazis at a rally or get another bomb threat at my synagogue and look to see which country would be safest to move to as a trans person and as a jew, the only answer is israel, which is exactly what zionist institutions and leadership are counting on. if you want that to change, you and your community have to change it.

#ip

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trans-androgyne · 13 days

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Ok as a trans girl I thought I'd throw out some opinions on egg jokes cause I've seen you post some things from one perspective and I'd like you to hear mine. What I'm gonna say is NOT MEANT TO ACCUSE YOU OF SAYING THIS STUFF !! It is just some observations I've noted from various communities

I've noticed a lot of the backlash surrounding egg jokes has been specifically about the concept of someone being a trans woman being inherently perverse and sexual, as compared to, say, gay jokes. Both of these sorts of jokes come from the same place (ex "I see myself/friends in this person, haha they're just like me/them") but one is much more socially acceptable than the other. If I see a man in a crop top with neon pink booty shorts and say "lol he's so gay" , nobody really cares other than the occasional "you can never assume anything about anyone" person. If I see a guy with long hair awkwardly looking at feminine deodorant and say "lol he's such an egg", that gets a stronger reaction from all sides of the community than the previous situation. There's a lot of people saying things like "let me be feminine" which,I agree! Men should be allowed to be feminine! But if a trans woman sees her pre-transition self in the way a man acts and jokes about it, that isn't something that should be as heavily policed as it is now.

There is a very large stereotype that trans women run 'feminizing cults' that recruit men and manipulate them to start estrogen and such, this is a transmisogynist conspiracy and what a *lot* of backlash from egg jokes leans into. Obviously, if you yourself aren't comfortable being called an egg or anything like that, then by all means tell anyone who tries to make that joke with you. If they're a good person they'll just go "oh, ok, thanks for telling me" and stop joking about that with you. Block the tags, curate your online experience, but I think a lot of people expect trans woman to fully stop making these jokes because of some disgust they feel from it, and attributing that disgust to mean there's some inherent moral stance on egg jokes, which there isn't

Also for context I am a trans girl whose egg was cracked via egg jokes lolll

Thank you for sharing your perspective. I think a lot of discomfort at egg jokes is in fact coming from a place of transmisogyny. I do not care about the vast majority of egg jokes. I think they can sometimes be reinforcing the gender binary, but honestly so can other popular trans jokes. I personally get uncomfortable when people are publicly speculating on the activities and gender of a specific stranger just going about their day because I would hate if that was me. I don’t care if people make those jokes with their friends. But enough people have passed around this deodorant example that if the deodorant person is a cis guy they’d probably feel pretty uncomfortable about it! Same with other cis guys who already feel insecure about expressing femininity for fear people will think they’re less of a man. As a trans guy I already get nervous people will see me pick out feminine deodorant (it just smells better) in the grocery store aisle and misgender me about it. People thinking it would be okay to speculate about me online as a result if they mistook me for a cis guy would be awful to me. I think we should have a genuine conversation about what constitutes violating a stranger’s privacy. But we desperately need to watch the transmisogyny in these conversations because a lot of people’s takes sound suspiciously like “trans women are groomers” rhetoric.

#when it’s okay to bring up transness to a friend you think is an egg is a different conversation than this to me #egg jokes #transmisogyny #intracommunity issues tag #ask #mine #long post

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 7 months

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AITA for not breaking up a friendship?

Hi. So me (27F) and my partner (36M) have been together for over 3 years now. Relationship is great and I love him so much, and he loves me back. We start to actually make a living together.

But recently there has been a little conflict. I have a friend (30M, let's call him V) who I have known since I was 13 and him 16, so that's half of my life, and vast majority of my "conscious" life. And my relationship with him is.. well. I know, it will look and sound badly and I don't blame my boyfriend for feeling insecure but also I am not willing to cut V out of my life entirely.

Like I said we've known each other for so long I can't imagine my life without him. We've been saving each other from depression and SA. He used to have problem with d*ugs, I've been there for him and help him get clean and he's free of addiction for almost a decade now. And whenever I had my mental breakdowns he was also always there for me, he knows ways to calm me down when I have panic attacks. We've seen each other at our lowest and pulled ourselves up. We can almost read each other's minds at this point.

V has lived through all of my relationships too, he himself having his own. But our dynamic wasn't fully platonic, we did get close to each other inbetween the relationships and even thought and tried to be together. But we both have very explosive temperaments and felt like it wouldn't work cuz we would eventually hurt each other being this close so we decided not to be together in the awe of it ruining our friendship forever. Nevertheless we do have a history of going back and forth.

For the past couple of years V has lived in Canada, I live in Europe (I'd like not to disclose where exactly). He is also married to a man. (He's bi and so am I so that was one of the things that brought us close) So we rarely actually see each other in person, he does come to visit his son from previous relationship who lives with his mom, once or more a year. V does music for living so that allows him to be more mobile. And everytime he visits it's like no time has passed. We could not see e/o for a full year and then it's like he never left.

Like I mentioned, there has always been some mutual attraction between us, I admit he is a very handsome man but the thought of being with him gives me an ick. I just couldn't handle some of his lifestyle decisions and my current partner with his calmness, caring and purest heart is a true blessing for me. For the first time of my life I feel life this is "it". And V has quite different personality, he's not a bad person or anything but his dynamic is just not what I need from a life partner.

Couple of years back when he was abroad I was in a relationship that turned out to be abusive. I was with this crazy jelaous, controlling, toxic person and we fought almost daily to the point where I wouldn't leave my bed for hours because of anxiety and depressive states. One time the ex went too far with his hands and the tension between us was over the top. We lived together at the time. When I told V what happened he came over once ex was off to work, helped me pack my bags and leave the house and then he stayed with me in his family house for couple of weeks making sure I was ok. He even almost beat up that guy.

My partner was aware of this friendship and even met V once. My past with V wasn't the preffered subject at the dinner table so we didn't speak much about it but he never told me directly I should cut V off or that he doesn't want me to meet him. I'd say he was rather cool, as in cold, about the whole thing.

But recently V told me he is coming back to Europe for longer, claiming he wants to spend more time with his son and try to be a more present dad. I also know that him and his husband have been going through a crisis lately, but V hasn't said anything about separation or divorce.

When I told my partner about V staying in the country for some indefinite amount of time we had an argument. He said he doesn't feel comfortable when V is around me, that he has a very good reason to be mad and that he's hurt I didn't come up with the idea of limiting the friendship. I admit, I got a little carried away and angry. I said he is not the one to decide who can be in my life and who cannot and that I will not allow anyone to control my friendships. As in the mentioned abusive ex-relationship, that was very much the case and I developed some sort of PTSD. My ex was jelaous of me meeting with my family or beeing in the uni classroom and doing project with male friends and wanted me to not have anyone in my life beside him.

My partner then said he feels like he's some sort of a backup in case the relationship fails and that he fears we will end up together either way and that to move forward he needs to be sure he is the number one for me. I love him with all my heart and regarding the thing he said of me and V getting together... I wouldn't want it that way, V and I were very clear about it and talk about it if needed. But I understand my partner feels... abandoned in a way. I love him so much, he means the world to me but I also don't want to lose a friendship so dear and long whom I've been through almost everything together. I've known V for 14 years, my partner and I are together for over 3 and I have had a relationship longer than that already.

Am I the asshole for not pushing V away when my partner asked me to? Would it be the right thing to do?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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shuploc · 10 months

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I would like to know how you feel sometimes when people don’t know put your name on your artwork I see people repost your artwork on TikTok or on here and they take your name off or block it out, and the art is amazing like seriously and you deserve every amount recognition.

Oh dude, all the reposting is literally so soul-destroying, lmao. It's disheartening, it's awful, it's completely discouraging. The worst kind is when someone is selling a product with my art on it, (and I obviously don't wanna sound like I'm bragging or anything) but that unfortunately happens way too often.

I don't mind people using my art as a profile picture or even for a fic, or for inspiration for their own art. I really, really appreciate when people reach out and ask before using my art for anything, even if it is just for something as small as a profile picture. In any instance that has to do with reposting though, in general, I think the least you can do is link back to -or at the very least make people aware who the original creator is.

I think it's wonderful to get more eyes on my stuff regardless of where it is, I'd love to be able to inspire or otherwise make a positive impact on someone's life (that's the whole reason I do what I do), but I use the fan art I post as advertisement for my freelance work and to sell prints. If I wasn't posting, and if I wasn't doing it as frequently, I wouldn't get clients. So if the drawings are just floating around aimlessly and no one has any idea where they came from, then obviously no one is gonna reach out for commissions, and no prints are gonna get sold.

But yeah... There's nothing to be done about it, unfortunately, at least not anything that wouldn't otherwise hurt me back, like making my watermark much larger, or end up seeming like an awful person by having to RP as cyber-police and yell at people to "PLEASE, ADD CREDIT!!!" and such 😓

Another thing too is, whenever I do come across one of my drawings reposted somewhere and it doesn't have even a shadow of credit anywhere, reading what people are saying in the comments gives me the same feeling as if someone had made me aware that people were talking about me behind my back, y'know. Like it's something I'm not supposed to see. I know that's just my brain being weird, but it always makes me feel so oddly empty, even if the vast majority of the comments are positive.

Sorry for the long answer lmao, but TL:DR; I really, truly, dislike it, even if it's nice to know more people get to see my work.

#sorry for the long answer!!#there was just way too much to be said about it to boil it down...#but thank you so much for the kind words too and for the ask! ❤️

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nyababymao · 1 year

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Aonung/Neteyam Fic - Fly me to the Moon

It’s been a week since the forest Na’vis first came to Awa-Atlu and Aonung was still vehemently not enthused about it.

It didn’t matter that it was the Toruk Makto’s family, this was Aonung’s home and he didn’t appreciate strangers who didn’t seem at all knowledgeable about their way of life walking in and making themselves at home in it. Least of all, strangers who weren’t even true Na’vis!

Aonung growled under breath as he thought about how his heart had gotten stuck in his throat and his tail had started wagging lightly when he first saw JakeSully’s eldest son. It wasn’t his fault that particular demon spawn had strikingly blinding facial features and a waist so petite Aonung couldn’t take his eyes off it, he wondered if his hands could fully cover it if he cupped it, he was a Metkayina after all, his hands were thick and large for pushing through the rough waters and would completely dwarf the Omatikayan’s waist.

Was it an evolutionary thing? No Metkayinas had a waist that small, does it help forest Na’vis navigate their jungle and forests easier? Aonung could easily picture Neteyam leaping flawlessly from tree to tree, branch to branch, his slender limbs and waist that stupid delicate baby tail helping him weave effortlessly through complex forestry like some kind of mythical deity drawing Aonung in-

He bit his tongue in anger and cut that line of thought off. In the days following the forest na’vi’s arrival, Aonung has been experiencing heart palpitations and his mind was constantly drifting to Neteyam against his will. Clearly the demon was doing something to cause these symptoms because Aonung would never be caught dead with one of them. He was born and raised a Metkayina and a Metkayina will be who his future mate shall be. And no forest demon will make him fall off that path.

Annoyed at having wasted a majority of the night stewing in his thoughts instead of sleeping, Aonung stood up. It was the dead of night by now and there was no way he was going to be able to fall asleep as irked as he was.

A walk through the open night air always relaxed Aonung, the vast night sky covered with a million stars, the calming splash of the ocean waves, the sand, cool under his feet after having been chilled by the night air, it was one of the pleasures only the reefs could offer.

Silently, he made his way out of his family’s Marui, making sure to not bother his parents or sister, especially his mother. If his pregnant mother was woken up before she had a full night’s rest, Aonung would be skinned alive and served for tomorrow’s dinner.

As he made his way down the beach, the sound of light splashing and quiet laughter became more apparent. Was there another Na’vi awake at this time?

Aonung scanned the beach and zeroed in on a figure standing in the shallow waters a ways away. He quietly snuck closer and hissed under his breath when he saw their face.

Speak of the demon and he shows.

Surrounded by a number of young ilus, Neteyam giggled as they moved around him, nudging at his thighs and nosing at his face. Aonung could only stare in awe as the demon’s effects seemingly came over him again. The moonlight reflecting off Neteyam’s face seemed to illuminate his freckles and his skin was dripping with ocean water. Aonung’s eyes traced the water drops sliding down neteyam’s chest and over his stomach, then disappearing into his loincloth...

Aonung didn’t know what to do. Does he make his presence known? Why would he do that? But he didn’t want to stand around staring at the freak from the shadows like a creep. His last option was to just leave and as Aonung was about to sneak away the same way he came, he was stopped by a melodic voice breaking through the silence.

Fly me to the moon

And let me play among the stars

It was a song. But it wasn’t in words Aonung could understand and it was unlike any song he’s heard any of his people singing.

Aonung turned to where the voice was coming from and was unsure why he was surprised to see Neteyam. He was the only other person here after all.

His mouth dropped open with a click. Neteyam held one of the young Ilu’s cheeks delicately in his hands and was swaying softly to the beat of his own singing, as if he was dancing with it.

For a split second, Aonung wished he was an ilu.

Let me see what spring is like

On Jupiter and Mars

His hips moved lightly through the ocean, disturbing the waters as it splashed softly around him, adding to the song as if it’s an instrument Eywa is playing at this very moment, just for Neteyam.

In other words, hold my hand

In other words, baby kiss me

Aonung could feel his mouth run dry.

Fill my heart with song

And let me sing forever more

You are all I long for

All I worship and adore

The baby tail moved from side to side as Neteyam danced around the waters with the Ilu. Aonung wanted to intertwine it with his own.

In other words, please be true

In other words, I’m in love with you

Aonung fell.

──── ⑅*❀*⑅ ────

youtube

This idea popped into my head and I just needed to put it in words sjvbjksbs maybe ill draw a lil sketch of it some time :D hope you enjoyed it!!

#avatar #avatar way of water #neteyam #aonung x neteyam #aonung #neteyam x aonung #aonunete

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moonlarked · 1 year

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death, she is cunning and clever as hell (and she’ll eat you alive)

in which: tam deals with the fallout of a choice.

Tam didn’t know how long he was supposed to sit here.

Wraith had walked him in, led him to the bench he was sitting on, and told him it would just be a few minutes. “We just need to figure everything out” and “we need to let everyone recover” and “we’ll be with you shortly.”

Tam didn’t know how long a few minutes was in the Collective’s eyes.

All he knew was that he hated this room.

He hated being alone, more accurately. He hated not having anyone to bounce off of. He’d always had someone. First it had been Linh, his sister, the only person he’d ever truly trusted for the vast majority of his life. Then he’d somehow fallen into Sophie Foster’s dysfunctional group of outcasts and mentally ill teenagers trying to save the world. He’d been in on all their meetings, adding a dry piece of commentary or a pragmatic piece of advice, and over time he found himself genuinely caring about these people. He found himself a family.

He didn’t know if he even had friends now.

He remembered Linh’s tight-lipped frown and shell-shocked eyes. Rayni’s slitted gaze, confused tears wetting her cheekbones. Keefe’s collapse to the ground.

Sure, she had been a villain. But she had also been a living, breathing person.

Nobody in their group had premediated, planned, schemed, with the intent to kill a living person.

Nobody until now.

Why had he done it? The answer that came to his head first: he was tired. He was tired of Linh’s retreat into a stiffer, calculating version of her old self. He was tired of Sophie running herself ragged every day, manipulated by people who said they were trying to help her. He was tired of Fitz and Biana constantly grieving over a brother that hadn’t even loved them in the first place. He was tired of innocents getting dragged into this twisted plot.

But another part of him, maybe a more honest part, told him he did it because he was angry and scared.

He was angry at the pain inflicted on him by Gisela.

He was scared of what might happen to his sister. And by proxy, what might happen to him, because he couldn’t live without his sister.

So, honestly?

It was because he was selfish.

He really hadn’t changed since Exillium.

A light knock at the door sounded and before Tam could answer, it cracked open and Sophie’s head poked into the room.

She looked awful. Her dark circles, which were always rough, looked like they had been pummeled and bruised for hours. Her olive skin was drenched in sweat. The dark roots of her dyed blond hair even seemed more pronounced.

She opened her mouth, then closed it, choosing to simply stand there like a gawking observer.

If it were any other time, Tam would make a dry comment about her lack of words. But he couldn’t do that now - he wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to do that again. Besides, Sophie would see right through him. His mask of aloofness was pretty much shattered.

Instead of saying anything, she walked over and sat on the bench next to him.

“Everyone’s fine,” she assured him. “Linh’s good. She seemed to recover quickly.”

Tam didn’t know if the desperation had shown on his face that much or if she simply knew him that well by now, but either way he was grateful. “Rayni?”

“Livvy’s treating her right now. I think she’s in shock or something.”

“…Keefe?”

Sophie’s silence was enough of an answer, and Tam slumped forward, burying his face in his hand and trying to stop the cowardly tears from appearing. He couldn’t cry. Not now.

A soft hand was laid on his shoulder, and he looked up to see Sophie with an impossibly sympathetic look in her brown eyes.

And Tam broke.

The tears weren’t soft. They were angry and jagged and loud.

Sophie wrapped her arm around him and allowed him to stain her tunic, gently rubbing her hand along his shoulder and neck.

He sniffed and looked up at her. “Why are you comforting me?”

She sighed. “Tam, how often have I cried? How often have I fallen apart? How often have I been held in this exact same way?”

“This is..”

“Exactly the same,” she interrupted. “And I’m going to help you through this. Because that’s what we do. We help each other.”

We.

There was still a we.

Sophie gripped his hand, keeping the other wrapped around his shoulders.

Tam knew this wasn’t the end of his trouble. Soon, he would be confronted by the Collective, and then maybe the Council, and then he would have to somehow talk to his friends. He wasn’t going back to any semblance of normal after this.

But for now, he let her stay.

#kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #tam song #sophie foster #my writing #kotlc fanfic #kotlc fic

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queen-mihai · 11 months

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Ok I'm developing a theory.

Let me say this first: I don't care if it's true or not. I think it's fun and I'm going to choose to believe it's true even if the writers literally come out and say it's not. It's that good.

Valerie is V

In the movie "V for Vendetta", V is explicitly never identified. We obviously see that he is a man. He has heightened basic kinesthesia, awareness, strength, and reflexes. He's got a deep voice, is reasonably tall, and thin.

Those are all things we know.

He never takes off the mask in any way we can see. If the hair is a wig, it's DAMN solid on his head, and he's got severe burns over so much of his body that he no longer has eyes.

"He looked at me, but not with eyes, there were no eyes"

Now for some evidence:

V is very obviously a thespian. Sure, we could assume the "man" was one as well, but we actually have backstory behind Valerie that would perfectly set her up with the type of knowledge V seems to have in the arts. Especially when she says "I'd always known what I wanted to do with my life"

When Valerie is taken, she already has the same look on her face as Evey has when she said "I'd rather die behind the chemical sheds"

V is very in tune with emotions. Obviously men can be in tune with their emotions. But Hollywood generally plays to a low common denominator. Why include this personality detail when all he needs to do is kick butt? If we are doing stereotypes 👇 this scene plays fairly heavily against the "male" stereotype when V perfectly times the moment where it will be okay to reach for Evey, let alone knowing when it's okay to touch her

Valerie falls in love fast. That's practically a personality trait we're shown in the story. With Sarah "it was her wrists". With Ruth, "the first time we kissed, I knew I never wanted to kiss any lips but hers again. This matters because when V says "I fell in love with you Evie" He mentions that he had thought of nothing but revenge until he saw her. That sounds an awful lot like something Valerie would do IMO

"This is the most important moment of your life, commit to it" spoken like someone who has lived that *exact* experience to the letter. You might think if he was a man when this happened to him, his experience might have looked *a little* different. If it was Valerie, though, it would make sense that she knows exactly when everything is falling into place because that's when it happened for her.

The anger she had over Ruth being taken fits V's actions far more closely than anything we get from our mystery man. Yes, he was tortured, but so was everyone else.

Writers love these kind of Easter eggs. Come on, room V, Valerie, V,...geezus "V" could have been the nickname she got from Ruth when they were together.

"I fell in love with you Evey. Like I never thought I could anymore" fits SO much better if Valerie just didn't know she could love again after Ruth was gone. That hits SO much harder if she's a woman from whom love was taken away and who went on a murderous revenge spree.

This was written by the Wachowski sisters. They would know what transitioning does to a person. If the "virus" was some sort of super-soldier serum, we could assume that some part of that serum might have included heavy doses of testosterone, which would have deepened her voice, even down to the level we hear in the movie.

If V was forcefully transitioned, it would stand to reason he'd want to hide his face (her face?) And would say things like "There is a face behind this mask, but it is not me"

Valerie might well have known how to create masks and such

The damn Scarlett Carson roses! They make SO MUCH more sense when you consider Valerie would have already known how to take care of them before she got taken, (and maybe even knew where to find a stash of seeds?) rather than some guy randomly found out about them and then learned how to keep them

If she indeed got cast for major motion pictures, and gotten paid well for them, that might explain the VAST resources V has at his disposal in order to pull off his schemes

👇 This right here👇

Soooo many similarities

"I had only told them the truth"

"I told you, only truth"

There's so many scenes that VERY MUCH make V look feminine

Ugh, there's so much more

There's SO MUCH MORE

But I'm dead tired right now and I want to post this now while I'm still excited about it and I'll have to write an update about it later if people want to hear more.

Heck... one very personal but deeply powerful concept about this movie for me is that I have shaped some parts of my personality around V's character. His intelligence. His ability to be both a monster and a face of kindness, his love for the arts and passion in keeping up his skills. I was surprised as heck when I found out his favorite movie is "The Count of Monte Cristo" because before I found "V for Vendetta", that was already MY favorite movie (the 2002 version though)

I don't see there being any fewer similarities after transitioning and I found this movie LONG before I thought any part of me was feminine

If MatPat ends up stealing this idea for a video, my name on here (Ce'irth) is pronounced like "surf"

OK see you later

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chiriwritesstuff · 7 months

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The Impossible Man ✨ 2. A Case of You ✨

Modern-Day Detective! Din Djarin x Witchy! Reader (Soulmates! AU)

Previous Chapter ✨ Series Masterlist

Summary: For someone being born into a magical family, a curse placed on the women of your bloodline means you have mostly avoided witchcraft and its calling for the majority of your life. After a life-altering tragedy, you turn your back on your family and your gift and seek out a more normal, boring existence, devoid of magic, and mostly, of love. What happens when the ghosts of your past threaten your peaceful existence and you are forced to reconcile all that you have lost? Will you let the people you have abandoned in your past life back into your heart? Will the appearance of an impossible man you have unknowingly cursed yourself break the chains of love? Will you let him?

Chapter Rating: M

Chapter Warnings: Magical Realism, Mentions of (Attempted Suicide), Implied Violence, Domestic Violence, Improper Usage of Belladonna (use a measuring device!), Mentions of minor character death, (Some) Men are the absolute worst, Petty theft (by Din), Meddling Vi and Omera (the dream team), This is severely un-beta-ed (I will fix this! don't worry!), someone dies multiple times in one night and I am not sad about it ONE BIT.

A/N: Detective Din Djarin enters the chat.

Banner by @chiriwritesstuff ✨ Dividers by @saradika

Word Count: 8.7 K (WHOOPS)

Ladies and Gentlemen, we have begun our descent into Seattle, Washington. Please turn off all portable electronic devices and stow them until we have arrived at the gate. In preparation for our descent, be certain your seat is upright and your seatbelt is fastened. Thank you for flying with Delta Airlines, and we hope you have a good afternoon.

Ten years.

It's been ten years since that awful, god-forsaken, terrible night.

Ten years since you turned your back on it all. Your family - on Fennic, on Omera, on Vi. Ten years since you picked up the little urn of Ben’s remains at the crematory. Ten years since you packed up the entirety of your life in that little apartment in Queen Anne - your dream home - closing the door one last time, entombing all of the laughter, the late nights in bed holding each other, all of the love you made, never to be opened ever again. Ten years that you swore that you would never come back. Ten years since you flew yourself down to Montauk, Ben in that little urn, in tow - to where he was born and raised - scattering his remains at the edge of the ocean - like how he would have wanted. He loved Montauk - its beaches, its little seaside villages along the coast. You didn't want to bury him - here, in Washington, in Seattle, far away from home, rotting until his body dissolved into worms and merged with the Earth, ceasing to exist. He promised you, that you would go back once this was all over - he just didn’t say that it would be like this. That it would end, like this.

You ran. Your feet bare, running on the cool wet dew of the grass as you flee the only place you ever felt was home, your heart still raw and broken and cracked from the devastation and betrayal by the people you thought you loved the most. You found yourself at the edge of your aunt's property, along the vastness and depth of Puget Sound - screaming for the crashing of the waves to consume you whole. Take me, take me, take me instead, you begged to the universe, to god, to whoever could be possibly listening.

You didn't know what hurt more, the fact that you allowed yourself to bring an unsuspecting soul to be dammed by your selfishness, or the fact that it was your flesh and blood that led you down this path in the first place - forcing you to question every interaction, every poignant moment in your relationship - if it was real, and genuine, without the magical push or influence of a spell. You were okay before, before the possibility and eventuality of Ben - You resigned yourself to be alone, to be kind to whoever would bring the prospect of companionship by sacrificing your heart, your desires, your childish hopes and dreams. Being with Ben was to appease the little girl who believed in the notion of being loved, or allowing that little part of you - that tiny bit of delusion that lay dormant in you for the first twenty or so years of your existence - to doubt something so monumental as being cursed, with a possibility of love and a connection, a devotion - that was so deep, so meaningful that you dared to be happy, to be blissfully in love, knowing that in the back of your mind, where reason actually existed - that it had an expiration date. That it was always there, chained by fate, bound by magic, written in blood.

Who were you to think that you were the exemption?

It was a setup - the precinct, the press, the official report written by Detective Djarin, said.

You never did end up going to the station that night - to meet your husband's - Ben's- faceless partner who messaged him in the early morning with the promise of a lead, a promise of this hell to be finally over with. We got him, the text read. Yes, you got him, Detective Djarin - but at what cost? One soulless bastard for the life of another? Hell, you blamed him - Din Djarin - a rookie recruit from New Mexico - you blamed him the most, and you've never even met the guy.

Ben was always careful. He was never brash, or cavalier - he was meticulous - he planned everything to a T, didn't burst through the doors guns a-blazing, always upheld the statures of the law. He never put himself in a position on the grounds of a hunch, no - he had too much self-preservation, he had too much to lose. Perhaps it was in his carefulness that they partnered him up with Din in the first place. Ben was a good detective - but he had no backbone. No edge. Too soft in a job where you needed to be hard. Too compassionate, too fair. It was all that he was lacking - that his younger new partner embodied. Ben was in awe of him. Wanted to prove himself in the eyes of the rookie detective that he could be all of these things, that he could - and would - do the things necessary to get the bad guy, no matter the cost. To lead by example.

But where did that get him?

Shot in cold blood, left to die.

Sure, we didn’t forget about the curse. But if we were completely honest, if Detective Din Djarin didn’t light that fire up his ass in the first place, he would have stayed, with you, that morning.

No. You’re both complicit.

Din Djarin may have made him more bold, more brash, and maybe even a little more brave. But it was you, and your childish hopes, and dreams, and your need for this insignificant thing that you call love - it was you that signed off on his eventual demise the moment you let him in, the moment you selfishly brought him into your orbit.

Starshine.

Your eyes open, your head pressed onto your keyboard as your eyes adjust to the lack of light in your apartment. You glance at the bright white glare of your computer monitor, 12:14 a.m. at the corner of the screen. Groaning, you force yourself to sit upright at your desk chair, flexing your toes and stretching your back from all the stiffness you would feel after sleeping at your desk.

"Starshine," you hear in your mind, your sister's pained voice reverberating through your bones. Your eyes scan through the mess of your tabletop, looking for your phone among the chaos.

15 missed calls.

35 text messages

1 voicemail, 10m

Vi.

Fuck, when was the last time I checked my notifications?

You call her back.

We're sorry, but your call cannot be connected as dialed.

*Hi Starshine, I know it's been a while...*

*Are you there?*

*I miss you*

*There was a strange man that came in looking for you, he was kind of cute, in a weird, kinda intense way!*

*I met someone! His name is Geoff!*

*Are you busy? I need to hear your voice*

*Please talk to me, I miss you*

*I'm in trouble, Starshine, I'm so scared...*

Your eyes scan through the texts, the urgency and pain of your sister's plight being frantically sent out - in secret - you deduce, her feeling of duress flowing through you as if you were in there in real-time, ducking against the corner of the room, behind her bed, trembling in fear in complete darkness, the heavy pacing and the silhouette of a man's feet behind her bedroom door. You can feel the moisture of her tears, the white salty streaks staining her face.

"Fuck!" you whisper as you pace around your apartment, the skyscrapers of New York City illuminating your windows.

Oh god, what's happening, Vi?

The phone in your hands starts to vibrate, Vi's face illuminating on the screen.

"Vi? Where are you?" you whisper.

"Come home, Starshine... I'm scared. I need you.”

You didn’t need to be told twice.

Next stop, Westlake Station.

You rest against the window of the rail car, holding up your right hand as you delicately touch the healed-over scar. You think back on the last night you were in Seattle, knocking on Vi's door, your bags packed for Montauk.

"I feel like I'm not going to see you again, Starshine. You don't have to do this!" she says tearily.

You smile at your sister sadly, considering your next words, hopefully enough to placate her nerves. "Don't worry, Vi. We'll grow old together. It's going to be you and me living in a big house... these two old biddies with all these cats. I bet we even die on the same day."

"Come here," you pull Vi towards you, grabbing your Swiss army knife out of your pocket. You cut your palm diagonally, wincing.

"My Blood," you whisper, grabbing ahold of her hand as you do the same to her palm.

"Your Blood," you smile at her as you grasp your bloody hand with hers.

"Our Blood." you both say, embracing your sister for the last time, the tears falling on your face, smiling sadly at your sister as you press a kiss on her forehead.

"Be good, Vi Vi. I'll see you soon."

You gather your overnight bag and sling your backpack on as you stand to exit off of the link light railcar onto the platform. It's early evening on a balmy October day - Not quite cold enough for a scarf, but enough to warrant a coat - Ben's coat, the only item of clothing of his you allowed yourself to keep, its edges starting to show signs of wear. You shove your hands into its pockets, and fiddle for the Orca card to check out of the station.

With muscle memory you exit out of the station to head out into the bus stop for the #3, heading towards Queen Anne. You adjust your overnight bag strap on your shoulders, brushing a stray hair behind your ears as you take in the cold fall night, the familiarity of your youth washing over you in nostalgia. As charming as New York City is in the fall, there's something about the charm of the Pacific Northwest - the slow swaying of the trees, the falling leaves, the crisp, clean air. The hustle and bustle of NYC was nowhere to be found - no disgruntled yelling or heckling, no sea of yellow cabs honking in the distance.

Vi is already waiting as you walk up to the duplex from the bus stop, standing on the porch, leaning on the front door. She’s dressed in a silk nightgown and thin, long cardigan, the cherry tip of her cigarette in one hand, the other hugging her waist. She's different - the ten years of time and distance taking a toll on her once bright, delicate features. She's thinner now, more frail - you can see the hollowness of her cheeks, the sallow beneath her eyes.

"Geoff isn't home," she greets as she fidgets with the cigarette, biting the bottom of her lip as she nervously glances at you - skittish, apprehensive. "It's Freaky Fridays at the bar - he won't be home until at least midnight."

"Vi -"

She crushes you in an embrace as she sobs, completely falling apart in your arms. Her tears soak into your coat and she's wailing, wailing, wailing - a bevy of "I missed you so much" and "thank god" repeated, like a mantra.

You shimmy out of the embrace and grab both of her arms to inspect her - raising your hand to graze the purple bruise that had bloomed on her cheek. She flinches, her mouth flinching in pain as you gently palm over her face. She smiles sadly back at you, her hand covering your own on her face, closing her eyes as you wipe away her tears. You press your forehead onto hers, breathing her in.

"He's been really crazy, you know? today he says he wants a jelly donut, and he says to the kid, 'Jelly donut, with cream' and the kid looks confused! and I said 'Geoff, Jelly is not a cream' - and the kid, he laughed and I laughed, and he punched me! he punched me real hard! Bastard!"

"Does he know where the aunts live?"

"No, but they're at the solstice celebration-"

"Pack a bag, Vi, we're leaving."

You stand guard by the door as Vi hurriedly shoves things in her bag, running throughout her side of the duplex as she seemingly grabs things at random. "Have you been in it yet?" she asks as she shoves a box of granola into her weekender - "I haven't... no one's been in it, not since... and Geoff thinks we should rent it out, you know, make some money out of it, but, I told him we couldn't - it's not mine, it's yours -" she speaks a mile a minute - not unlike how you remember all those years ago - as she shoves what seems like 20 pairs of underwear, zipping up her bag, slinging it over her shoulder.

You hurriedly push her out of the door, fumbling with the keys as you lock it, guiding her down the steps - Damn these shoes! she exclaims - making your way down the street, towards the bus stop.

"Oh!" Vi suddenly stops in her tracks. "Blood on the moon!" she whispers, pointing to the sky.

"I know" you reply.

She’s clutching her chest, pulling at the nightgown as she pats down her threadbare coat, pulling out the cheap polyester pocket lining, stopping in place as she looks back up the street. "Where's my tiger's eye? it brings me luck, I left it, I need to get it back!" she breaks out of your hold and breaks out into a sprint towards the house, pulling her shoes off, running up the pavement, not once caring if her feet are bare.

"It's probably in the bag, Vi, come on!" you run after her, up the porch stairs. "Vi -" you say as you stumble back into the apartment, stopping in your tracks as you are suddenly gazing at a man - Geoff, you presume - struggling with Vi, pointing - is that a gun? - at you. Geoff - his commanding presence heightened by his striking, dark features. His tousled hair, as black as midnight, framed a face chiseled with sharp, defined angles, giving him an air of both ruggedness and refinement. Deep-set, intense eyes, the color of smoldering coals, held a hint of mystery, their gaze both penetrating and enigmatic. He smiles.

"Ah. Starshine! The prodigal sister finally makes an appearance!" he belts out as he motions the barrel of the gun towards the couch. "Okay, Okay," you say meekly as you slowly make your way to it, your hands in the air as you refuse to break eye contact, your sister shaking uncontrollably in his grasp.

He wedges the gun in the waist of his pants - between fabric and skin. He's still clutching onto Vi - grabbing the bottle of tequila that's on the coffee table. He sloppily thrusts it towards you in a - would you like some? - demeanor as you turn your head away from him. He sits on the chair across from you, perching Vi on top of his lap, licking her neck as she squirms. “Shhh. Let the adults talk, okay?” he whispers as he brings a finger to her lips.

"Hey, Starshine, you know all about books, right? Have you ever read any books by Louis L'Amour?" You shake your head, refusing to meet his eyes as he shakes his head in disappointment.

"Okay, well - Louis L'Amour is a foreigner and he loved all things cowboy. Just like me, Geoffy-boy. So Louis would write stories about rustlers. Rustlers who were really bad guys."

You glance at Vi's direction. She twitches - slightly, if you had blinked, you would have missed it, motioning to her bag next to you on the couch. "The belladonna is in my bag" you hear Vi's voice clearly in your mind. You nod, looking at Geoff as he babbles on, lighting a cigarette and perching it on the corner of his lips. You slowly edge your pinky towards Vi's purse.

He flicks the lighter back on as he starts to wave it over his ring - a bulbous silver skull - "They would try to steal the cattle. But before they could sell them they would try to take away the brand of the owner with an acid, or by - He suddenly rubs the ring furiously on the chair cushion - "...scrubbing. Unfortunately, they could never get rid of it. So they would be caught and get hanged."

"What are you doing?" you nervously ask as he brings the flame of the lighter back onto the skull of his ring, waving it back and forth, heating it as he takes another drag of his cigarette. He grabs the meat of Vi's thighs. "Come on! You can't hide the brand. It's just you and me." he tells her as he attempts to brand her with the skull, Vi thrashing in his grasp as you take advantage of the distraction, clutching onto the glass vial of the belladonna. "Let her go!" you cry out, jumping onto your feet into a semblance of a fighting stance, not caring one bit about the ridiculousness of it.

He laughs at you as he raises his hands in mock surrender. "Relax, Starshine, live a little! Have a drink with me!" he motions towards the tequila bottle on the table.

"Shut up! Louis L'Amour by the way - is not a foreigner! He's from North Dakota, you asshole!" you mouthed angrily while you snatch the bottle, taking a sip while Vi suddenly grabs his face, crushing her mouth towards his. You quickly pour the entire vial of the belladonna down the tequila bottle, shaking it as you hand it back to Geoff. He takes a long drink, winking as he places it on the table. He looks at you with a tinge of satisfaction.

Two hours later, Vi is beside herself as Geoff is taking a - rather long - piss.

"It should have worked by now," she nervously paces the living room, biting her nails. "I don't think you gave him enough."

"I gave him plenty!"

Just as you are about to throw the bottle of Belladonna at Vi in frustration, Geoff slithers back into the room, a sinister look on his face. He smirks at you as he approaches Vi.

"You know, girls. I'm feeling very into sisters right now."

He suddenly grabs Vi by the throat, throwing her on the ground as he straddles her. "I LOVE YOU, VI! WHY DON'T YOU WANT TO BE MY WIFE?!" You immediately launch on him, pounding your fists on his back "Get the fuck off of her!"

"Starshine! Starshine stop! he's out!" Vi says as she pushes him off.

"OH MY GOD!" She shouts, scrambling onto her feet as she looks at him dead on the floor, his vacant eyes staring back at her, his skin sickly pale. "How much did you give him?" she looks at you frantically.

"I don't know, Vi, he was threatening to kill us, it's not like I had a measuring cup!" you retort as you kneel next to him, slapping his face, willing him to wake up. You grab onto his shoulders, shaking him with as much force as you can muster. "Wake up, asshole!" you angrily mutter as you slap his face again.

"What are we going to do?" Vi cries out in a panic. "We can't go to the police, they're never going to believe us!"

"It was in self-defense!" you shoot her a questioning look. "Wait. What do you mean that they wouldn't believe us?"

"Well, I doubt the whole slowly-poisoning-your-lover defense would win over the Seattle PD" she snarks as she rolls her eyes, pinching her nose as she paces around the room. You eye her waringly.

"What are you thinking, Vi?"

"When Ben died, you asked the aunts to bring him back," she states, matter-of-factly.

"They wouldn't," you answer bitterly, kicking Geoff as you collapse onto the chair beside him. "Get to the point, Vi."

"They wouldn't, not couldn't" she replies simply.

You shake your head. "No, the aunts were right. He would have come back dark and unnatural."

"Geoff's already dark and unnatural! I don't care what he comes back as, just as long as he comes back!"

"No, Vi, that is not an option. That isn't even a choice!" You head into the kitchen, filling up a glass of water and drinking it, shaking your head in disbelief. This is not happening, you think.

"We don't have a choice, Starshine! This is our ONLY choice!" Vi throws up her hands in frustration. "Do you want to go to jail, or do you want to help me fix this? Because I'm sure Ben is rolling in his grave right now!"

"He was cremated, Vi."

"You owe me big time" you mutter to Vi as you help her carry Geoff out of the back seat of his car, having been forced to drive from Queen Anne to Tacoma to access Bainbridge Island from Narrows Bridge.

"Watch his balls!" Vi exclaims, leading you into the kitchen as they half drag, half carry Geoff's stiffening body to the dining room table. "Okay Geoff, I will get you out of this but after that, we are over!" she declares, slapping his face.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing!" she retorts, running past you as she grabs the Spellbook from the other room, placing it near Geoff's head. You push her aside, flipping through the weathered pages. "Are you sure you want to do this? He's still fresh, we could still convince the police that it was in self-defense!"

Vi gives you a satisfied smirk as she nods. "Absolutely."

You take a deep breath. "Okay. Lips pursed, emit wind over tongue in motion, teeth on edge." you purse your lips, executing the needed motion with practiced precision as Vi tries to mimic you. "Good enough, good enough." You cut open his shirt, "Touch bounded smudge of blue sage with braided wheat straw."

"Okay, repeat after me. 'Black as night, erase death from our sight. White as light, Mighty Hectate make it right." you nod to Vi. "Black as night, erase death from our sight. White as light, Mighty Hectate make it right." You hand Vi a needle, positioning yours to one of Geoff's eyes. "insert needles through the eyes of the corpse."

Vi looks at you with disgust. "Through his eye? Maybe we should wait for the aunts" You roll your eyes. "It's not like he's going to stay fresh forever! Stop being a baby and let's finish this!"

You chant the incantation repeatedly, angling the needle at Geoff's eyes as they suddenly focus on you. You drop the needle in bewilderment, your hand covering your mouth as Vi gasps in shock.

"Geoff?" she asks timidly, circling the table. He suddenly shoots up from where he lay, his hand reaching out to Vi's throat as he shrieks.

"WHY WON'T YOU BE MY WIFE?" he wails unnaturally as he strangles her, pinning her to the wall as she claws at him. You grab the first heavy thing you can find around you - a cast iron skillet? and BAM! swing at Geoff, the impact so strong he drops like a sad sack of potatoes.

You're breathing heavily as you drop the skillet, glancing over to Vi as she clutches her heaving chest.

"Please god, if you get us out of this, I'll be good! I'll settle down and be normal for once! No more one-night stands!" Vi pleads to the sky as she helps you dig a shallow grave near the rose bushes.

It's the middle of the night, and in typical Bainbridge Island fashion, the heavens decide to throw a torrential downpour into the mix. After killing Geoff - for the second time that night - the both of you decide to cut your losses and bury him in the aunt's backyard, all semblance of reason out the window. What's one less asshole walking on this earth? If you think about it, in the grand scheme of things, you actually did humanity a favor. Bye bye Geoff, don't let the door hit you on the ass on your way out.

"Normal? Really Vi? I had normal! For ten years, I had my quiet boring non-magical life! and it was fucking amazing!" you sharply retort as you carve out the earth, the heavy downpour soaking you to the bone. "I worked really hard for that normal, thank you very much!"

One Geoff-sized shallow grave dug later, you both unceremoniously dump his twice-deceased body into it, spitting in it for good measure.

"I hate to be the one to say this," you say to Vi as you start to shovel "but you need better taste in men."

She rolls her eyes at you, her wet hair sticking to her face as she pushes it back behind her ears.

"Yeah, no kidding." she laughs, rolling her eyes.

"Not a word to the Aunts," you stomp on the grave to flatten it out. "Not one."

You wake up to Vi puttering around the room the next morning. You groan as your eyes register the sudden influx of light streaming out of the windows through the blinds, you yank a pillow and cover your head with it, groaning. "It's too early, Vi."

"I need to open the store today," Vi is puttering around your old bedroom, walking into the closet as she shuffles through clothes. "We have to 'maintain normalcy', right?" she pulls out a dress, inspecting it, while looking at you hesitantly. "... do you want to come with me? I bet you miss it, the aunts kept it the same..." she continues as she slips on the dress. She smiles. "Come on. I can work the cafe and you can work the register... it'll be like old times. The store misses you too. Misses its rightful owner, you know. Mom left it to you, not to me." she pointedly adds, pleading her case.

You sigh as you sit on the edge of the bed. "... I don't know, Vi. The last time I was here..." You take a deep breath, a flash of Ben's smile cycling through your mind. "It's been too long, and I don't know if I can... exist here, you know?"

“…but you love the store,” Vi says as she holds up another dress, a blue long sundress with moons and suns printed on it - tossing it in your direction. “… and Ben knew you loved it too. I think that if there was anything you could do for him, especially in death, it would be to be happy, you know? Maria’s was your dream, and it still can be only if you just let yourself try.” She smiles as she picks up her tote bag, slinging it onto her shoulder as she kisses the top of your head. “Just one day, please? For me? For old time's sake?”

Vi gives you her best puppy-eyed look and pouts her lips.

You groan and cover yourself with the covers. "Fine. One day, and then I'm flying my ass back to New York!"

She smirks, covertly looking at your burrowed form. "That's all I ask."

Maria's Curiosities and Books is still the same.

The bookstore slash cafe, opened 30 years ago by your mother, remains pleasantly intact in the heart of Capitol Hill. You remember running through the racks and stacks of secondhand books, mostly about all things magical and occult, piled haphazardly throughout the store. You used to spend hours tucked away in the corner of it, the old leather loveseat tucked away amongst the sea of books and knickknacks and the random bits and bobs. You remember running your fingers through the cracks of the worn leather of the couch cushions, the wafting of the freshly ground coffee beans permeating throughout the nooks and crannies of the store, your mother's beautiful smile looking back at you from behind the register as you would tuck yourself in, deeper into the love seat, making yourself right at home.

Vi hands you your shop keys, giving you a small nod as she guides you to the entrance, the door already decorated for Halloween.

"The aunts did it before they left," Vi says, grabbing her phone out of her tote bag - I want to commemorate Starshine's big return, ten years in the making! - her camera app at the ready as you push the store key into the lock.

You slowly turn the key in the lock, gingerly swinging the door open as you flick on the lights like you have hundreds of times before. You gasp at the familiarity of it all - as you realize that Vi was right - they haven't changed a thing, not one thing at all.

Everything is still how you left it, ten years later.

You make your way to the register, the vintage incorruptible cash register you found - like happenstance! - at the Goodwill, one day - still on the weathered countertops but with the addition of an iPad beside it, bringing this store up with the times - Vi's idea, surely.

Vi holds out your mother's hat - a pointed velvet blue hat with silver stars running along throughout - the Storybook lady's hat - out to you. "I figure since Omera isn't here... if you would do the honors today." You slowly place the hat atop your head as Vi grins. "Right back where it belongs," she says with a satisfied look.

You blink away the tears. "Thank you, Vi, for watching over the store for so long," you pull her into a hug, the feeling of being home finally coursing through your veins, the gentle warmth spreading through the coldness of your bones. "... I mean it."

"You promised me, you know," she says through her tears. "...that you would come back."

You remember when you finally took rightful ownership of the store after you graduated from the University of Washington, waking up at the buttcrack of dawn, shuffling behind the register with bright-eyed wonder as you would look at the picture frame - the one with the photo of your mother, Fennic, and Omera clutching each other, smiling brightly as your mother held up the keys in triumph.

This was her dream.

... and then it became yours.

“Daddy, can we go see the storybook wady this weekend?”

Din looks at his five-year-old son as he sits on the dining room table, pushing around the cereal in his bowl. His hair is in disarray from sleep, still in his Star Wars pajamas as he watches cartoons from his iPad.

“If you can be good with Aunt Peli today, maybe we can go see the storybook lady tomorrow, adika,” he replies, mussing his son's hair as he sits across from him, blowing on his coffee. He gives his son a knowing look. "... that means no jumping into her pond grabbing frogs, okay? you almost gave her a heart attack the last time, baby."

Grogu smiles at that, his front tooth missing as he happily scoops out his cereal.

Din doesn’t know why he started to frequent Maria’s Curiosities and Books all those years ago. He knew of its owner - hell, you were all his partner would talk about, if he wasn't talking about work. He knew that you had inherited it from your mother, taking it over from your aunts the moment you graduated from college. He also knew that that's where the both of you had met - you and Ben, that is, a chance meeting that seemed so serendipitous, it must have been written in the stars. A perfect "meet cute", Ben would say dreamily, a fond smile creeping on his lips as he recalled that day to him. You managed to bewitch him, body and soul, he claims, from the moment you wiped the spilled coffee you accidentally poured on him, your firey eyes locking on to his as you profusely apologized for your clumsiness. Ben knew that he was a goner.

Naturally, Din was curious - no, he was intrigued - by the bewitching woman who managed to render his normally stoic partner into complete devotion. The notion of love, and happiness, and all the bells and whistles that came with it - was such a foreign concept to him. It was a distraction, a distraction he would never think he would ever allow himself - no, he was so against the thought of bringing someone - someone innocent, someone trusting, and devoted - into the fold of the chaotic nature of his life, knowing that any moment, any day, any second would be his last. It came with the territory, this profession. He knew what he signed up for the moment he stepped into the police academy that first day. The academy warns you about that shit, that your days are counted the moment you accept that badge. He was ready for it, hell, it's all he's ever wanted - the badge, the honor, the brotherhood. He lived and breathed the creed of justice - ever since his parents were taken from him - all those years ago, back in his home in New Mexico, in front of his eight-year-old eyes, in cold blood.

... and then it happened.

It was an anonymous tip, sent to his work phone in the middle of the night.

Bleary-eyed, he swiped to the unread message, sent 1:13 am, one sentence. An address, "Gideon spotted" accompanied by it. He shot out of bed immediately, eyes wide, his bare chest heaving, his grey sweatpants slung low on his hips suddenly hot and restricting.

He would be lying if he said that Gideon wasn't the reason that he pushed for the transfer to Seattle PD in the first place - hell, he's been on his trail since he got his promotion to detective a year ago back in New Mexico. He had hunted him - his parent's killer - his mortal enemy number one - with the determination of a bounty hunter for as long as he can remember. No one would make the connection - He was thrust into the foster care system back then, assigned to a spitfire of a woman - Peli - who gave him his name - Din Djarin - the moment she decided that she wanted to adopt him. He's been lying in wait, in anticipation - for a long time. This was his life's mission, the promise that he made to himself all those years ago, that it would be his hands that dealt the final blow. It would be his hands that Gideon's blood would stain, and he would enjoy every fucking moment of it.

He considered the gift that had been handed to him at that moment. Pacing through his bedroom, he weighed out his options. This was his case, his one loose end that he had to tie up. He had the skill, the strength, and the willpower to see it though. He didn't necessarily have to bring anyone else into the fold of it - he didn't have to involve his unsuspecting partner - Ben - with his penchant for following the rules and meticulous planning, who didn't just burst through the door, guns a-blazing - his partner who had everything to lose. Din didn't have that, didn't understand the feeling of having people being left behind on his behalf. Ben understood the need for justice, he just wasn't aware of the emotional weight this person - this scum of the fucking earth - had on him. He wouldn't understand the obsession that he had with Gideon. Ben had questioned it - once, why finding Gideon was so important to him. He's a bad man, who has done many bad things to innocent people - he’d replied cryptically. Why wouldn't we pull out all of our resources to see this though?

Against his better judgment, after hours of deliberation pacing through his apartment in the cold early morning, he makes his choice.

Meet me here, he types, attaching the address to Gideon's last known location. We got him.

This is a bad idea, he thinks to himself as he stands outside the bookstore.

He sighs, groaning in frustration as he makes his way inside Maria's Curiosity and Books a few weeks later after that pivotal day, the tinkle of the bell announcing his presence to its occupants.

He had tried to get into contact with you, sending hundreds of text messages, voicemails, and after-work visits to your apartment that you shared with Ben - all of his feeble attempts - all unanswered.

He had hoped, that even though he was the harbinger of bad news, you would show up at the station that night. He understood why you didn't - instead being met with a steely woman - your Aunt - Fennic, was it? - who came on your behalf. She identified the body with an uncompromising gaze, nodding once as she immediately walked away, a fragment of emotion breaking through her impassive face as she pushed past him, out the door, as soon as she had walked in. He felt the levity of the pain that this woman carried, the sorrow she tried so hard to contain - that he couldn't even fathom the weight of the pain that you must have been experiencing, if not hearing your broken sobs through the phone wasn't enough. If heartbreak had a sound, he reckons, it would be the sheer devastation that he heard from your cries that night, becoming the soundtrack to his regret and nightmares - to follow him for years to come... and it was all his fault. All of it.

He approaches the woman behind the counter, her smile bright as she reads a letter - do people still write those? - a cup of coffee on the counter, stirring it with a spoon. At least he thought she was because he swears he sees the spoon stirring on its own - am I hallucinating? He thinks to himself. Spoons don’t do that.

As if the woman senses his presence, she quickly grabs the spoon, stirring it once more before placing it on the saucer beneath the coffee cup. She places the letter she was reading next to it, cracking a smile.

“How can I help you today, sir?”

He scratches the back of his neck nervously. “I don’t mean to be forward, but are you the owner?” The woman suddenly looks surprised, covering the letter with her hand.

“Uh… I’m not. That would be my sister, and… she doesn’t live here anymore. Not for the last few weeks, at least” she says sadly. “May I ask why you’re looking for her?”

“An old friend told me about her and this store. I’m a… big fan of secondhand books and I heard that this is the best place for it” he lies.

“Well, it certainly is” She smiles as she holds out her hand. “I’m Violet, Vi for short. It’s funny that you bring Starshine up, she just sent me a letter, all the way from Montauk!” She motions to the letter.

Montauk? New York? Is that where you ran off to? "I didn't realize that people still corresponded that way." He motions to the letter.

"Ah, well, Starshine is a writer and a bit of a romantic." she retorts, "I don't mind it one bit, at least she reaches out, right?"

“Vi!” A woman’s voice yells from behind the cafe area, “Can I bother you a bit?”

She flashes you a contrite smile. “Sorry about that, duty calls. I’ll be just a minute.” She says apologetically as she hurriedly makes her way to the other side of the counter. She appears a moment later, a take-out cup of coffee in her hands. "Omera was testing out a new recipe that Starshine was conceptualizing a bit before she left. She figured that a new face should test our wares out" she says, handing him the cup. "I hope you like cinnamon chai, it's Starshine's favorite."

“Thank you” he gingerly takes the cup, taking a sip. “Wow, it’s good. Really good. Starshine thought this up?” Vi nods, her eyes quirking as if she notices something peculiar.

He takes another sip. Her eyes follow the motion of his hand, eyeing it waringly.

“Huh.” She says. “Is that…” she motions to his hand, “a bullseye tattoo?”

He looks down at his right hand, at the junction of space between his thumb and his pointer finger, frowning. “Oh, yeah. I used to doodle this on my hand at school randomly, I thought I would immortalize it, I guess,” he replies sheepishly.

"How interesting," Vi responds cryptically. "How very interesting."

"Perhaps you felt compelled to draw it," another voice cuts in, an older woman with ethereal features approaches Vi from behind the counter. She nods to the cup. “I’m Omera. Enjoying the chai?”

“Oh, yes. I love cinnamon. Reminds me of the churros my mother used to make back home.”

Vi chuckles. “It’s funny, Ben - her husband - was allergic to it, so Starshine could only drink them here.” Din coughs at that.

"Would you like to see her?" The older woman asks. "Starshine?" She hands him a framed photo of you, at your college graduation. “That’s her Aunt Fennic, my sister” she points to the poised-looking woman beside you. The woman from the precinct. "... and Vi and I. It’s my favorite photo of all of us." She says fondly.

“She’s beautiful,” Din finds himself saying aloud before he can stop himself. Cut the shit, Djarin, her husband just died - in your arms - for fucks sake. He internally grimaces at the thought, especially in the company of your family.

He clears his throat. “So Montauk. New York. That’s where she’s been? seems far from home, don't you think?”

Vi looks at him suspiciously. "What are you, a cop?" she says jokingly, folding up your letter and placing it neatly atop a pile of books. He notices now that there are many photos of you - with Vi, with your parents, with the Aunts, with... Ben. There's a wedding photo, your face in the crook of his neck, as Ben beams into the camera. There's another one, of you kissing Ben - the sudden stab of jealousy notwithstanding - an errant thought in the back of his mind screaming mine, mine, mine - on his cheek. All of these photos, a chronolized timeline of your life, framed in mismatched picture frames, lining the countertops of the bookstore - your bookstore. He swallows, fiddling with the collar of his button-down.

Vi motions to the wedding photo. “Her husband - he grew up in New York. He was a detective. He... died in the line of duty. A setup, gone wrong. They managed to get the guy, but Ben was caught in the crossfire. After what had happened - she... went up there to settle his affairs."

Din tries hard to portray his ignorance. “… yeah, I read about it, in the paper. I’m sorry for your loss.”

Vi nods, wrapping her arms around her small frame as she looks at Omera. "She took it pretty hard. She - she doesn't let many people in, and Ben..." she stops as she considers how to approach her thoughts. "... it devastated her. She wasn't the same after that."

He nods solemnly. Blinks furiously to mask away the tears. "So, she uprooted herself there? What about the bookstore?"

Omera gives him a sympathetic look. "We'll carry on until she's ready to come home. That's all we can hope for, right?" She appraises you as if deciding something. "What's your name?"

Din considers this. "Uh, Mando. Call me Mando," he says as he holds his hand out to Omera. She shakes it, her eyes with a hint of questioning, like she can't quite believe him.

"Hey! Vi! Omera! Can I get some help here?! Sometime within this century?!" a voice calls out from the back, alerting the two women to look towards the back of the store. Vi gives him one last look as they leave him be. "Excuse us, Fennic is on the warpath this morning. It was nice to meet you, Mando."

As they retreated towards the rear of the store, his gaze fell upon your abandoned letter resting on the countertop. With a quickening pulse, he scanned the area, ensuring that no prying eyes were upon him. Stealthily, he slipped the letter into the recesses of his coat, hastening his exit from the store.

It's not until he's in the safety of his car that he unearths the folded piece of paper in the confines of his coat pocket, the paper radiating warmth as he finds himself compelled to smell it, the paper sweet and spicy and musky all at the same time. Cinnamon. He imagines that it smells exactly like how you would smell, imagines the way your hand held the pen as you wrote exactly what your heart was feeling. He pushes the nagging guilt of intruding on your privacy - He just... needs... something, anything to placate his interest. To see what Ben saw, to understand his partner's last words that he said to him, begging, in desperation, in resignation. "Promise me you'll take care of her, please, promise me. Tell her that I love her and that I'm sorry... that we couldn't go back." Ben gurgles, his body convulsing in pain as Din pressed down on the gunshot wound, frantically calling for backup. "Tell her yourself," he tells his partner for the last time. "Just hold on, you're going to tell her yourself."

He was cold, dead in his arms by the time emergency services reached them at the pier.

"I promise." He whispers, staring out into the void.

He turns his car on, the reverberating hum of his car coursing through his body. Joni Mitchell's 'A Case of You' starts to play as he gently holds the letter - your letter - in his hands.

Just before our love got lost you said

"I am as constant as a northern star"

And I said, "Constantly in the darkness

Where's that at?

If you want me I'll be in the bar"

He takes a deep breath.

He gently unfolds the letter and begins to read.

Dearest Violet -

Sometimes I feel like there's a hole inside of me, an emptiness that at times seems to burn. I think if you lifted my heart to your ear, you could probably hear the ocean. The moon tonight, there's a circle around it. Sign of trouble not far behind. I have this dream of being whole, of not wanting to sleep each night, wanting. But still, sometimes, when the wind is warm or the crickets sing... I dream of a love that even time will lie down and be still for. I just want someone to love me. I had my happiness. I don't want to believe it but, there is no man, Vi. Only that moon.

I miss you,

Starshine

He doesn't register the tears that are flowing out of him until the first teardrop falls onto the paper, the wet ink streaking down the page upon impact.

Din and Grogu make their way down 10th Avenue, his adopted son humming happily along as they make their way to Maria's Curiosities and Books - as promised for Grogu's good behavior - Oh, he was just an angel! not one frog didn't even go to the pond! - Peli exclaims - the Storybook Lady's - Omera, he found out - wooden sign out near the entrance.

It feels different, today. There's something in the air, there's a pep to his step as he walks down the street, Grogu in hand.

It started when he woke up in the morning. He normally groans at the weight and reality of a new day, the looming reminder of his age and his knees and his back screaming out to him in silent agony. Din normally likes to relish in the calm of the coldness of fall, the little bit of peace before Grogu makes his presence known by jumping onto his bed, willing for his father to wake up already - we have to go see the Storybook Wady! - his lisp not quite pronouncing the words as he stifles a laugh.

Din takes his time to get ready in the morning today as if compelled by an unknown force - a feeling in his bones - that shaving his usual unruly scruff is going to be so, so, worth it. He silently whistles along to Joni Mitchell's 'A Case of You' softly playing throughout through the Bluetooth of his speakers - his favorite song. He's still whistling along as he walks into his closet, freshly shaven and showered, his long wet curls slicked back into submission, as he takes an extra minute to actually be aware of what he's going to wear today.

I feel like such a schoolboy, caring like this, he chuckles as he throws on a deep grey cable-knit sweater, settling on a pair of dark jeans that don't have any holes in the knees.

I remember that time you told me

You said, "Love is touching souls"

Surely you touched mine

'Cause part of you pours out of me

In these lines from time to time...

He's still humming along to the song as he drives down 10th Avenue, Grogu beaming with untamable energy, bouncing in his car seat in anticipation of the day. Does he feel it too? the magic that's in the air this morning? he thinks to himself as he gently tells his son to settle down.

It must be happenstance, he thinks, as he manages to find a parking stall along the normally busy street - already packed with locals and tourists alike - in a stall where he doesn't have to pay for metered parking or grimace at the prospect of having to carry his son - his too-big baby boy - for blocks to Maria's.

For once, everything seems to be going right. It must be my lucky day, he smiles to himself as he ushers Grogu to the entrance of the store.

He's still whistling to Joni Mitchell as he opens the door - Grogu already letting go of his father's grasp - shrieking as he makes his way inside, running towards the other children sitting in the middle of the room, near the paper mache castle near the back, the storybook lady hat resting on its stool.

"Hey, Vi -" he begins, his voice getting caught in his throat all of a sudden because there you were, behind the counter, dressed in a blue sundress and an oatmeal oversized chunky cardigan, your eyes bright and your lips - god, your lips - forming into a smile, smiling at him. It's as if time and space and the universe ceased to exist...

"Starshine." He breathes, his feet frozen in place.

Oh, you're in my blood like holy wine

You taste so bitter and so sweet

Oh, I could drink a case of you, darling

Still I'd be on my feet

I would still be on my feet

I met a woman

She had a mouth like yours

She knew your life

She knew your devils and your deeds

And she said, "Go to him, stay with him if you can

But be prepared to bleed"

Oh, but you are in my blood

You're my holy wine

You're so bitter

Bitter and so sweet

Oh, I could drink a case of you, darling

Still I'd be on my feet

I would still be on my feet

Taglist: @strawberri-blonde

#din djarin #din djarin x you #modern din djarin #din djarin/reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x reader #the impossible man #din djarin x oc #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x original female character #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x y/n #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal

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sleepy-shutin · 1 year

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do you have any tips on communicating with alters? i get the vibe im really not alone in the brain area (there are. copious ammounts of other reasons but.) i'm not sure if i just got some srs dpdr or am like actually a system

this sounds like less of a "communicating with alters" problem and more of a "DID vs. other disorders" problem, or a "how to tell what is and isn't an alter" problem. if you're not sure whether or not you have alters, communicating with them or attempting to do so isn't going to help you figure out if you have alters or not, you're just going to get more confused. trust me, i've been down this exact same path before and it made things worse and more confusing. don't jump into trying to communicate with alters first before even knowing whether or not you have them.

also, obligatory warning that more people should be giving out: if you're still living in an abusive/traumatic environment, i personally really do not recommend self diagnosing with DID. from my personal experience and the personal experience of friends, this makes things worse, especially if you're under 18 or otherwise cannot legally leave. worry about surviving and getting out, THEN worry about the magnitude of trauma that you experienced and try to start getting it processed. trying to process trauma and deal with trauma and dissociation symptoms while still being traumatized actively is an awful experience.

if the second paragraph doesn't apply to you, ignore it. it's not for you.

this post from felis puts a lot of it into some pretty easy to understand language, the difference between cPTSD parts and fully autonomous dissociated parts, as seen in DID or OSDD-1.

another thing to note--i can't remember if this is mentioned in the linked post or not--but parts aren't always necessarily going to feel like entirely different people controlling your body. the vast majority of people who have autonomous dissociated parts have parts that are not the most distinct and may be separated out by feeling (i.e. "i feel like a serious woman with long hair") rather than suddenly knowing you have a specific name, age, gender, etc.

what you should do when trying to figure out if you actually have parts, is pattern tracking. journal a lot. if you can, try to think about how you feel throughout the day, (i.e. "do i feel like the serious woman with long hair or do i feel like the sad little boy or do i feel like the happy man with a baseball cap?"), to better track these patterns and see if they are brought up at specific times of day.

for example, i become tal when i'm at work. she is a teenage girl with dark hair, and she's very cheerful, and is pretty happy being masculine, even though she doesn't necessarily present that way when we draw her.

while i'm at home, i become zero, who is more serious and deadpanned and irritable, who is very obviously a male figure.

i can always tell the difference between these two specifically because of how starkly different we feel to each other. when i start feeling like a bubbly teenage girl, that's a pretty easy way for me to tell when i've switched. i can generally tell when i'm going to switch to tal because she comes forward in IRL social situations, and at work. i've used pattern tracking over the course of months to figure these patterns out.

that's only two parts out of my documented 30-something, and it took months to fully figure that out. you're probably going to have a similar amount of time figuring out your own shit. don't rush it. the best time to start is now, so be patient.

so basically, track how you feel identity-wise in differing situations, and track how connected or disconnected you feel to these differing identity feelings over time.

when you get home from work/school, does the person at work/school feel like you? do you feel confused by your actions at work/school? anxious about these actions? disgusted? do you feel like these actions you did at work/school are something that you would do now that you're not at work/school? these are some questions you can ask yourself.

remember, this only works if you're honest with yourself, and it is not a quick process.

i hope you get things figured out anon.

#ask #anon #advice #actuallydid #actuallymultiple #actuallytraumagenic

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utilitycaster · 8 months

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I don't know which particular post about chetney you may be referring to in the post regarding to a potentially animated c3, but I personally see no harm in speculating how things could be adapted. It's both fun and a interesting creative exercise, provided one understands that they can't have solid expectations for something that would without a doubt be several years into the future at least. To me it's not much different than coming up with theories for how things may turn out - the fun is in the doing, not in being proven correct (though that would certainly be satisfying). I don't see why speculating how something would be adapted hinders one from enjoying the show as it is right now. Feel free to disregard this if I've misunderstood your post, I'm genuinely curious to hear more of your thoughts about this though

In the interest of keeping a vague post vague I am not going to provide more details, but it was about a hypothetical (ie, future in the current canon of C3) decision they felt would not be satisfying in adaptation, ie, it was not about the nature of adaptation so much as bleeding a little into decision making in Campaign 3. It was verging on "they should think about how this choice will play in the (hypothetical) eventual animated series", and that was what I didn't like. I love speculation on how a finished series might be adapted! I have engaged in a lot of that myself. This was not that.

But more importantly, I love complaining, and that post is me complaining. I think there's a really awful tendency in fandom spaces to think the only things you can complain about must be Problematic And Harmful, and also that complaining about anything means you are trying to shut it down, and those are both incorrect (and lead to the similarly toxic mentality of then trying to justify all dislike by saying things are Problematic And Harmful when they aren't).

Most of the things I complain about are not remotely problematic (though some are); many are just, in my opinion, really fucking stupid. And because I have some small number of manners and do not go onto people's own blogs or inboxes to say "hey your post is stupid" I just make a vague post about it, leave it untagged, and if anyone has a problem with my post I hope they will also either do the same on their blog or if they're really bothered, take steps to ensure they don't see my posts. You know that post that says "this website should function as a matryoshka doll of kvetching?" That is my mission statement. This blog is a place where I will be hating on harmless behavior all the time. Crack theories are a great example! I hate most of those and think the vast majority come from idiots trying to sound smart by over-complicating something that has a very simple explanation. They are also, largely, completely harmless, and people are welcome to come up with them, and I will not stop them. But I will be complaining about them on my own blog.

#answered #ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 #i actually read an article recently about how people who bottle up all frustrations are at higher risk for cardiovascular disease #so if you think about it this blog is heart-healthy self-care. it's like a brisk walk for the mind. you're welcome.

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npdvents · 26 days

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( tw for me having a raging superiority complex.)

lately ive realised that i struggle with object constancy. i struggle to view the vast majority of people around me as human beings with complex lives and their own independent thoughts and feelings and it kind of makes me not care about how i treat them or absolves me of any guilt i may feel for treating somebody badly?

like i forget that the rest of the population exists separately from me, and people aren’t just side characters to my life. if somebody doesn’t affect my life in any way, i struggle to humanise them. if they don’t serve a purpose i don’t really view them as an independent person and, therefore, i don’t really feel the need to treat them.

rather i feel like some people are useless by default because they don’t serve my life immediately. i would feel bad, but then i remember how much i justifiably loathe the majority of other people i interact with. most of the time people aren’t even worth acknowledging as human beings because they act like stupid morons who don’t have any depth of mind and they’re so incompetent and not worth the effort of engaging with.

which sounds awful typing it out, i know, but it’s not something i can really help.

— ⦻

I feel this, sometimes I struggle with it more than others. You’re not awful though.

#npd vent #⦻ anon #actually narcissistic #actually npd #cluster b safe #narcissistic personality disorder #npd safe #npd

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ravenstargames · 1 year

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Hey, just found out about you and think this sounds really interesting. I was just wondering though, why only two female routes? While I'm grateful they're there, it just seems extremely uneven with 4 male (Should I include Envy? Because that makes it 5 instead) so I was wondering what the though process is behind that.

Hey there anon! 💜 Thank you for your question!

The thought process is nothing else than "marketability", which may sound awful, but it is what it is.

"Otome" or romance visual novel players are generally attracted to male or male presenting characters; it's the wide majority of the audience. I have rarely seen any female love interest in games made by the huge "otome" companies, as "otome" means a female MC surrounded by male LIs. (We of course are excluding wlw / yuri visual novels here.)

There's a lot of indie games that have the same uneveness when it comes to the cast, and in our case it merely has to do with this being our first game and wanting it to appeal to the vast majority of potential players, while still making some things "our way". We didn't want to have a male-only cast (which is completely fine, that is what an otome is), and of course things could be more balanced, but having seven characters for our first game is already a risk we took.

I could say that no, there's no real motive behind the 2 vs "5", but the truth is there is. The majority are more interested in men / male presenting characters. If you check our favorite character poll, Ara and Raeya are way behind the others.

If I remember correctly, even The Arcana (which may be one of the most successful indie amare / romance visual novels of all times) had trouble with Portia's route as the audience was not as interested in her as they were on the male LIs.

There obviously are people interested in female LIs (me and my team included), but truth is they don't thrive as much as the male / male presenting in the kind of game we are making, which is sad, but it's a reality nonetheless.

I'm sure this is not the answer you wanted, anon, but it is the most honest we can give. That being said, there's a lot of creators out there and games full of interesting, well-written female love interests, and we hope we can be counted as one of them when the time comes! 💜

#lost in limbo #about the game #general asks

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mastersoftheair · 3 months

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You're doing the Lord's work posting all of these pics from the boys instas, etc bc I do not have an Instagram or whatever and I would never see these things otherwise! Thank you!

you're welcome!!!! also, i am Not a social media person At All (i'm a tumblrina through and through). the only reason i have an instagram, really, is to message friends/family who almost exclusively message people through instagram for some reason lol

+ (overly-detailed) storytime about instagram research under the cut (since i'm using your ask to take a trip down memory lane...)

back in 2021, with tremendous help from @carninator-blog (who was equally as interested in the "MotA Cast Investigation"), i managed to cobble together a growing list of cast and crew members (sometimes, i was faster than imdb lol). instagram was the Key tho, like it was INVALUABLE! if you found one person, they might post a story that shows Another person with them and, if you recognized That person, then you could find Their profile (if they had one). and so on and so forth.

dramatic reenactment of this:

anyway, it's a lot easier to do the instagram stuff now (can you believe i mainly use it for "research"). i browse the search term "mastersoftheair" and have retired the rest: "mota" (too much weed lmao), "masteroftheair" (an easy typo, but no one makes that mistake anymore), and "whirlwind" (production name which yielded 1 result out of like. 50 or more). i even had to download an old version of the instagram app bc they just HAD to get rid of the "recent" tab which is crazy inconvenient! that's where all the timely information is!!

another thing. a few guys straight up Do Not have an instagram profile (....like nate mann. it'd be hypocritical of me to not respect it but come onnnnnnn, nate mann!!) and, while some guys Do have a profile, they never post anything about MotA Ever (like fionn o'shea). further- some guys don't have a profile anymore, but they used to (like kai alexander). some guys have a private one (valid. also callum turner), some guys suddenly got Verified some time inbtwn the production and the premiere (the elliot(t)s), and some guys changed their user name (like josiah cross). every once in a long while, i have to go update my cast/crew instagram profile list on google docs with all the names and links and GODDDD i sound like a weirdass stalker now that i've put this all into words, but believe me when i say i'm very much not invested in any of the actors' personal lives!! i try to keep it as professional as i can (everything's sourced, like an archive). i'm only ever looking for the MotA stuff, Exclusively.

additionally, a lot of behind the scenes pics and videos would Only get posted in cast members' stories. if i missed that 24hr window, i'd never see it again (unless they decided to put them on their profile), so, i'd check their instagram profiles Every Day whenever i was free. on the bright side tho, a lot of them were Fantastic behind the scenes pics/videos and "watching" the production of this show from afar (through instagram, of all things) was a lot of fun in the midst of pandemic anxieties and boredom (go check my 'video' tag if you're ever in the mood for some on-set cast shenanigans!)

while i'm here tho, i've gotta say that while keeping up with the cast back then was fun the Vast majority of the time (if nothing else, it gave me something to do during the chaos of 2021/22), i had a sorta anxiety about it sometimes wrt the, idk, "sensitivity" of the content. it was very NDA This, NDA That. i figured, "well, if they already posted it in their stories, it's probably fine" until one of the cast members Literally made a whole tumblr account and very kindly asked if i could please remove a few of the pics i posted of him bc he technically wasn't allowed to post them in the first place, so having them Out There could get him in trouble! i was SOOOO embarrassed about it and i felt Awful about the possibility of him getting in trouble all thanks to some hyper-observant internet rando (thankfully, tumblr is famously lowkey. it'd be different if it was as popular as twitter lol). after that incident, i had this semi-anxiety about "should i post this pic or just That one? should i Not post this?? should i download/save them and post them after there's a big announcement of some kind??? where's the line?!! What Do Now???!!". it didn't help matters when, in the MotA behind the scenes facebook page, a bunch of really cool set pictures would sometimes get deleted within an hour bc Whoops! the poster actually wasn't allowed to share those (and, even if i'd already downloaded them before they got wiped, would i be able to post them, despite being under no such NDA myself? or would i get another mysterious DM?)

but that's all in the past, now! i'm pretty sure i've posted Every Single One of those behind the scenes pics/videos, provided i downloaded them in time. if not, sometimes the (finally active) MotA subreddit has my back lol.

further, looking for Any MotA content during from 2021 to 2023 came with acknowledging the eventual "droughts" (what i nicknamed them) where it'd be a good while before i saw anything new at all. bc of this, i have a legitimate soft spot for certain cast members who posted a lot of updates/pics/videos Wayyyy before we even got the first teaser (s/o to luke coughlan, louis greatorex, jordan coulson, josh bolt, and josiah cross for keeping hope alive)

tl;dr- it's no problem and i'm happy to do it!

#long post #all this detail is half bc i like talking about research (i'm a nerd if that wasn't abundantly clear)#and half bc i want to keep this memory for myself. in 5 years i'll probably wanna read it again who knows!#masters of the air #hbo war #asks

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mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess · 1 year

Text

Saccharine

@yuzanrath

🌌🌙🍯 (night, moon, honey) Preferably in canon era/universe

Song for atmosphere: here (Easily - Bruno Major)

I was incredibly flustered writing this, enjoy!

Wei Wuxian stares up in his husband's eyes, the molten gold of his pupils shining into the cool-toned light of the moon. Lan Wangji's eyes have caught onto something outside, his eyes lazily dragging over the vast expanse of the starry night sky, expression soft and placid.

He's always been beautiful, Wei Wuxian reminds himself, but there is something entirely otherworldly in see him like this, unguarded, vulnerable, relaxed between the pristine sheets of their bed. There is a cool breeze wafting from the open window, and Wei Wuxian has taken it as pretext to snuggle closer to Lan Wangji, laying his head on the other's chest and stealing glances at him from his privileged position right atop his heartbeat.

If he knows he's being stared at, Lan Wangji doesn't comment on it. The silence is warm, and his eyes seem lost in the distance, as if daydreaming. Wei Wuxian lets one of his hands reach up to run through his hair, and is rewarded with a soft smile, his husband's attention back on him. He hums, questioningly, but Wei Wuxian shakes his head that it's nothing, letting the hand in Lan Wangji's hair slide over his cheek, caressing the skin there.

Meanwhile, the hand Lan Wangji had on Wei Wuxian's lower back has begun moving up and down his spine, gently drawing shapes on the skin. He can't help staring at Wei Wuxian a little, sweeping his eyes over the other's features with the kind of awe that feels just a bit too close to worship. His eyes, soft with love, with gratitude, with wonder, remind Wei Wuxian of the finest honey, sweet, filling, everlasting.

Wei Wuxian feels the touches on his back, and realizes they aren't a senseless series of movements. He sits up just slightly, and steals a kiss from Lan Wangji's lips. "What are you writing on me, Hanguang-Jun?"

"I love you."

Then, Lan Wangji decides he's going to steal a kiss back, and he does, a rare laugh escaping him at Wei Wuxian's flustered expression.

"You're going to kill me one of these days!" he mumbles as he reclaims his spot on Lan Wangji's chest. hiding his face in the skin there.

"I would sure hope not. I've had enough of being without you."

"Lan Zhan!" comes the blushy protest as Wei Wuxian drags the light blanket over his head.

"There is no point hiding. You can still hear."

"No, I can't."

Lan Wangji huffs fondly. "Then I suppose you can't hear me telling you how incredibly happy I am to share the rest of my life with you."

The bundle of blankets that is Wei Wuxian makes a pitiful sound in Lan Wangji's arms.

"And you also cannot hear about how lucky I feel that I get to have you, in all the ways you let me."

Wei Wuxian wiggles himself off Lan Wangji in protest, taking all the blankets with him. He can't help a proper laugh this time.

"Wei Ying."

No response.

Lan Wangji tugs at the blanket, "It's cold."

A lie, and they both know it, but Wei Wuxian gives in and returns in his husband's arms.

"You know what!" He emerges, at last, so red in the face it's comical. "Two can play at this game! You think I can't wax poetic about you too?" And he clears his voice with emphasis. "Your eyes feel like having honey poured on my soul. And every time you're around, I feel so loved and safe and wanted that I want to scream it out in the world."

Lan Wangji's ears burn, but he doesn't protest. After all, he deserves this, he started it in the first place.

"And you've given me the life that I've never even thought would be possible beyond my dreams, you've given me a home, and a family, and a place in the world."

Lan Wangji wants to kiss him shut up, because he has to admit hearing all that has made his heart do sommersaults in his chest and he doubts that is healthy.

"Oh, and one more thing!" Wei Wuxian says, mischief in his eyes. "You're also very good at fu-"

Lan Wangji finally kisses him, and they entangle in the sheets again, a mess of blushes, giggles and love.

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #wangxian #writing attempts #i almost went to the big daddy in the sky writing this >///<#fluff is terrible for my heart

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