#my mando musings

[fanfoolishness]

Rewatch of the Mandalorian Chapter 21, the Pirate:

Don’t smack talk Greef’s fashion sense!

“He shot first” heheh

aww Greef is starting to get worried

Dammit Nevarro! Just when you were looking more than ever like Los Angeles with those little purple flower things and all the ficus trees!

Nevarran fashion is a lil… medieval? Fancy hats.

I need to download the song for the New Republic bar because it lowkey slaps

It’s this guy! Captain Teva! His casual outfit is pretty cool.

For everyone who has seen Rebels, I wish you a very happy Zeb

Dammit Coruscant. Why do you have a brutalist sector?

Oh THIS BITCH awwww NO Elia Kane you just need to not be here, dude

But Tim Meadows my beloved!!! I had no idea he was in this season! I enjoy his vexation

Elia Kane quit stalking people you freaking creep! I hate her, she’s so good at this.

Love her evil-ass music too. Stop being eeeevil

And then Solas the protocol droid led Greef Karga the Herald to a hidden castle in the wilderness after the fall of Haven/Nevarro — oh wait, no, my Dragon Age feels go over there

Seriously, the Nevarrans look like Catherine, Called B-Wing

… I don’t remember how Carson Teva knew that Din knew Greef, really, but he’s so likable I don’t mind

Who you calling “blue boy”, PAZ???

R5 vindication! And also getting back at Din ahahaha

I cannot help but adore the Mandalorian Talking Hammer, that is so perfect for them

“The foundling in your charge” fuck, Din, you should be saying “MY SON” you fucker

“I’m in no position to ask” he asked, Darksaberwieldingly

“Our children” WELL YOU’RE GETTING CLOSER ANYWAY

I really thought Paz was gonna go off and then he did and I was like “ho shit, Paz character development? All righty then!”

What stake did the Armorer have in this? She didn’t try to sway them one way or the other? Does she have an ulterior motive?

Grogu still comes for every mission, yesss

Love Bo’s speech! All right, while I miss Din tremendously this season, I’m loving the season of Bo on its own merits. Also, how weird is it to see the Armorer in a ship? it’s like when your companion NPC moves from their place on the map and you know a great cutscene is going to begin

Poor lil broken droid :( Mean pirates! And they fucked up the school again :(

It’s the Mandalorian - bitch you thought hahaha

I need more smug motherfucker Din back in my life, I beg you

Wish we had more weird accents among the Mandalorians. Bo’s is pretty Standard, Paz and the Armorer are weird and flat and formal, and Din has some of that as well. But like, if they’re a diaspora, I wanna hear some variation!

One of my favorite tropes is “noncombatant citizen nevertheless rises up to defend their homeland”, and Kowakian monkey-lizards pointing out an ambush was a cheesy lil slice of delight

Paz how are you seriously so LARGE

High Magistrate Greef Karga, you are so cute and I love you

I do really love how Nevarro has been a touchstone for the entire series, and love seeing how it’s evolved over the years. Things like that are some of my favorite things about this show.

The Armorer wishes to speak with you. Here, let me accompany you to this extremely tense and dangerous music, I’m sure everything will be fine

The Armorer is… getting emotional? Reminiscent about Mandalore? I’m scared and so intrigued!!!

The sassy and scary way she asked “Do you respect my station?” And her “Remove your helmet,,.” I am… alarmed and aroused

This music is so calculating! So very Luke, join me!

Wait, Paz isn’t in on this plan? Interesting, I had assumed he was in the Armorer’s pocket.

I am hopeful for Bo because I do think she’d be a great leader? But also frightened because who could trust the Armorer in that moment? (I mean, aside from Bo who 1) I’m sure respects Armorers and 2) doesn’t know her well and 3) is seeking a home… and this is how smart people can get sucked into cults!). It could go either way, I suppose. Are she and Din finally gonna have the epic duel? I can’t see Din’s heart being in it, and I also don’t want that to happen until he’s actually competent with the Darksaber and learns why it’s been fighting him. I just need Din, Din, Din!

But this episode has me much more intrigued and curious about where the season is going, so I’m excited for next week!

[cilil]

☽ Late Night Musings - The Halls of Mandos ☾

My personal take on Mandos is that it's a place of limbo, not heaven, hell or any sort of afterlife really.

For Men (including all mortals), that's already a given due to the fact that they don't permanently stay in Mandos and move on to an unknown place outside the circles of Arda. For Elves, it's the case because they weren't meant to die in the first place and the goal is to get them reembodied eventually; the same applies to Ainur. For Dwarves, it's their belief that Aulë gathers them in a different part of Mandos and they'll eventually aid him in rebuilding the world and receive a place among the Children of Ilúvatar.

(For Orcs as well as any other creatures who possess fëar, it can be assumed that they would also be called to Mandos and be met with a fate either like Elves or Dwarves, though we don't know any details. I have headcanons about the fate of Orcs in particular, but that's a story for another time.)

While Mandos is very much a place that physically exists and can be visited - even entered, though I would guess that Námo probably doesn't allow the living to come and go as they please - I think that it's also a spiritual place similar to/possibly located in the same plane of existence as the Unseen Realm and the Olórë Mallë in Lost Tales, and that the experience of those who come to Mandos in spirit after death is rather abstract and varies from soul to soul.

The purpose is not just to be judged if you have done great evil throughout your life, but more importantly self-reflection and healing, and each soul goes on their own individual journey.

For those who were good people in life, accept their mistakes and are ready to make peace with themselves and others, Mandos is a cozy, comfortable place where you may in time find loved ones, have a chat with Námo, Nienna, Vairë and their Maiar, admire the tapestries and rest. For those who committed great evil and are refusing to let go of their anger and spite, however, Mandos appears like a labyrinth or prison that they can't escape from. The key to their way out is not only Námo's judgement, but also - and this will influence his decision - the state of their being and the amount of healing they need, as well as any others they might have wronged.

It may be that this entire journey is like a dream, from which you will in time awaken to find yourself face to face with Námo for one final time - for he, his family and his servants may have visited you already a few times to offer guidance, wisdom and perhaps one or the other harsh truth - and hear his judgement.

For Men, he has no power to hold them and will always send them beyond the circles of the world. For Elves, he will offer them to return to life in Valinor, safe for the ones whose crimes and/or lack of repentance warrant a longer stay; the procedure for slain Maiar, provided they heeded his call, may be similar. For Dwarves, he will let them take their place among their ancestors and relinquish them to Aulë. Orcs may or may not share the fate of Elves.

[seaquestions]

i like that ror2 is another less-story-mostly-lore type thing cos im free to imagine how the greater UES Safe Travels polycule works as much as i want at my leisure. i can just make shit up!

[insanityofvaas]

Bought a thing, and it's cool as shit.

Big <3 for @chocopinda for tipping me off about this!

[theysparked]

No hate but I was wondering why you spell it as 'Dyn' and not 'Din'?

lmao you're good, it's not the first time I've been asked this, and I've been writing our beloved tin can since s1 before we got a name for him - there was a period of time where everyone was guessing how to spell it once we did get a name bc the official spelling hadn't been released and wasn't for a while. 'Dyn' was the most popular version of his first name and I went with it because I thought it was dope and kept it after we got the official spelling. 'Din' just didn't feel right to me after that idk.

[cienie-isengardu]

My RepCom Musing: Vau’s adoptive father

 In True Colors we learned that Walon Vau at some point was officially adopted by unknown [Mandalorian] man:

    Even I had a second father to adopt me ... too late, maybe, but better than never...

This makes me wonder, did Kal know the unnamed man or that Vau was adopted at all? And if yes, was the man also brutal/abusive? Because at the end of Order 66, Skirata thought that 

"I know he did Walon," Skirata said. Vau had never had a father worthy of the name; all things considered he'd done his best to be one himself. "I know he does. He's missing. Missing men often get found. Our missing men will be found."

This statement (and knowledge about Vau’s proper adoption into mandalorian family) could also put in different light the scene from Triple Zero, in which both men talked about their families:

[Etain] turned to Vau. "Do you see your men as your sons?"

"Of course I do. I have no others. It's why I made them into survivors. Don't think I don't love them just because I don't spoil them like kids."

    "Here we go," Skirata said, all contempt. "He's going to tell you that his father beat the osik out of him and it made a man of him. Never did him any harm, no sir."

Since the whole talk revolved around the subject of the biological family, logically Kal’s statement should be about the Vau Senior. Yet the next books provided insight into Walon’s mind and he openly hates biological family, something Skirata seemed to be aware of? And Walon never said anything alongside the line that his biological parent, in any way, made him a true man and even acknowledged that his “black heart” is the only true legacy inherited from the man. Which makes me wonder did Kal (unknown to Etain who at that point did not know much about Mandalorian culture) simply started talking about the Vau’s adoptive father without emphasizing the “adoptive” part as for Mandalorians this was totally unimportant detail, too busy arguing with Vau about something they argued for years probably?

Additionally, Vau most likely joined Mandalorians at pretty young age, if we take into account his statements about Mird (the strill was with him since “boyhood” [TC] and since he “joined the Mandalorians” [TZ]), so it seems logical to assume he was part of someone’s Mandalorian family/clan, no matter if  the proper adoption happened years later. So the quote “his father beat the osik out of him and it made a man of him” could also refer to the Mandalorian who for whatever reason decided to take young Vau (a survivor of domestic abuse coming from aristocratic messed up family) and “straighten” him up to make the boy/teenager(?) a proper man (Mandalorian) in my honest opinion.

[drones-of-innocence]

There's a story that's been on my mind since 2017, but really before that. I put some work into it over the past couple of years, but it sort of stopped after a while because I was losing the spark. But things changed and I finally found that desperate inspiration.

I'm losing sleep. I'm neglecting some assignments. And I couldn't be happier because thank goodness I'm actually writing again!

Reading over what progress I did made has been so interesting. It's like walking through a gallery of who I used to be. I remember the thought process behind certain passages, and other parts I marvel that I was able to construct such clarity of ideas back then. Others still are embarrassing but luckily I'm older now and I can smooth it over when it's time to edit.

I can't wait to finish and share this story. It's one story I've wanted to tell since before I knew how to write. I just hope I'm old enough now to do the experience justice.

There's still some work ahead. I had to add space for an entirely new chapter, and then two more are still planned but unwritten after that. It might take me a while. It might take me a only month to finish. It could take more. It depends on how my IRL situation is over these next few weeks. But I won't back down, I'll keep fighting for the time to write this because I need to get it out. I need to share this.

[mariposiel]

I know I’m really late, but I recently just started watching the Mandalorian

…And now, I see why everyone’s going crazy for this Pedro guy

[moondirti]

all the ways i can have you

pairing: Din Djarin x f!Reader rating: explicit (18+ mdni) word count: 1.3k summary: he's hooked on making you feel good. warnings: naked female clothed male, edging, overstimulation, fingering, pussy slapping, squirting, unprotected p-in-v, blowjobs, hickeys, biting, cunnilingus, rimming, face sitting, this is so filthy don't look at me. notes: here's a little thirst i wrote in my down time. It's not affiliated with The Remedy in any way; i just really needed to get all my thoughts about our favourite beskar man out tbh because the slow burn with those two is killing me

The Mandalorian is absolutely filthy.

It’s not something you expect. He’s awkward at the best of times – pointedly avoiding any possibility of social interaction by the drawing of his blaster or an elongated silence. Honestly, for the first few months that you’d known him, you actually thought he hated you. Sure, you were never the unfortunate soul skewered onto his spear, nor had he ever threatened to throw you into his carbonite freezer, but he always had a handy excuse at the ready when you tried to make conversation. It was torture until you learnt not to take it personally; you figured he was probably used to being alone, and that’s no fault of yours. His lack of social skills could not be your burden to bear. So, eventually, when he gave nothing but a grunt to your occasional bizarre musing, you’d simply shrug it off and go back to playing with the kid. 

In hindsight, maybe you should have picked at the source of his reticence. It certainly wouldn’t have taken you as long to get to this point if you had. Because now, it occurs to you that he’d probably been so tense from withholding the desires that the two of you, in fact, shared.

It seems so obvious once the dam had lifted, but keen deduction has never been your strong suit. 

Back to the point, though. Mando is beyond borderline obscene once you manage to tease it out of him. Truly, he’d have never instigated things had you not been so uninhibited. But when his resolve shatters, it’s like his mind goes into overdrive of all the things he’d do to you. You actually think that, if given the opportunity, he’d lay you out for days on end to enact every fantasy he has. Because life has its way of intruding, though, he settles for the in-betweens of your day to day, taking you in the small gaps where it can just be the two of you.

You think he’s wild when he edges you the first time, his gloved hand palming your front while you stand in nothing but your towel. This is on you, he said, you little tease. It’s deliciously painful; his fingers find your clit with practised ease and he presses down on it, rubbing you in small, tight circles. With the way his hardened body presses into you from behind, clad fully in his armour – a stark contrast to your exposed frame – and his rough praise meets your ear, you almost cum from the miniature ministration alone. But he recognises what your quickening pants mean; he sees how your back arches into him like you’re trying to match the overwhelming pleasure his hands administer, and he pulls away at the last second, fingers returning only to give a sharp smack to your cunt. And of course it echoes – you’re soaked, for Maker’s sake – which only serves to make him repeat the action again and again until you’ve significantly darkened in shade. 

By the time you’re on the brink of collapse, Mando has you sitting between his legs, back to his chest, one leg hooked over a strong arm while you sob your pleas into the empty space of the hull. He fingers you fast and rough, delighting in your high-pitched wails and whiney begs, and forces your first orgasm out of you with an expert quirk of his fingers. It’s torturous relief, like white hot embers dancing upon frozen skin, and your vision blurs as you gush over his vambrace. But he doesn’t let up; he continues drawing them from your sopping core, turning in a complete 180 to overstimulate you until you literally have nothing else to give. 

He manages to serve you in a way no one ever has before – you're a complete, quivering mess by the end – so, you assume that’s the extent of it. But time with Mando proved that was the least he can come up with.

He revels in spreading your legs whenever he gets the chance, taking his time to pull your glistening lips apart and absorb the sight of your clenching hole. He says it amazes him – how such a tight thing is able to stretch over his length – then promptly digs his cock from within the confines of his pants. You find yourself agreeing with the wonder of how it fits; it’s by far the biggest you’ve taken – thick with throbbing veins that weave up to an angry, leaking tip – but his thumbs always dance in reassuring circles along your inner thighs when he presses it against you. And when he pushes in, you forget all about your worries, because the stretch is divine. Mando absolutely fills you up to the brink, the ridges of him catching along your inner walls, and he pounds into you with reckless abandon, like a man starved. It’s simultaneously too much and not enough as he reaches those hidden parts of you – that spongy tissue at the front, the wall of your cervix – and the sensation becomes absolutely addictive. You go cock-dumb without fail, drooling, eyes rolling to the back of your head, and you think he might disappear someplace else as well, with the way his words pour unfiltered. Good girl. Beautiful. So fucking tight. Cum for me, I want to feel you. He turns reverent when he gets you this way, awkward fronts be damned. 

Funnily enough, he’s too impatient for you to go down on him. In the rare moments he forfeits, he has to hold himself back from pulling you up so he can just fuck you already. It’s not that you aren’t good at it, either – no, your tongue is enough to drive the strongest of men wild – but he just… doesn’t put as much priority in his pleasure as yours. It’s something different with you entirely. He doesn’t see sex as a means to relieve his mounting tensions, it’s not the same exchange he’s found in all those brothels. With you, Mando is overcome with the unshakeable urge to wring out every pleasure imaginable. He’s obsessed with the plump of your lips and the folds of your flesh. He dreams of every single part of you everywhere – under his hands, between his legs, in his mouth. 

So, he takes off his helmet to put his lips on yours. And you, who’s naive enough to again suppose that the last, world-ending orgasm was the scope of what he could do, experience it as he transforms into something else entirely. 

His kisses leave no area untouched. They find your neck, tightening as he sucks purple hickeys onto your skin, then pepper down to your chest, where he pecks your pebbled nipples and bites the swollen tissue underneath. Mando leaves a trail of spit and welts in his venture, and you moan under the calamity, combing through his soft curls with shaky fingers. And when he finds you soaked through your panties, your nails dig into his scalp, your tummy flushing with slight embarrassment. The pain sparks something in him, it seems, because he pushes your thighs up with a renewed vigour so he can press his nose onto your clothed cunt. My favourite, he groans between long inhales, before he rips off the cotton barrier that separates his tongue from your clit.

Mando eats you out like he’d rather be doing nothing else. He doesn’t. It’s his favourite pastime, solely for the way you mewl and squirm underneath him. He licks, sucks, drinks from you, uncovering every patch of skin with his warm tongue, which flicks over your bud until you cry and drives into you to collect the subsequent nectar. He spreads you on the floor like a meal, dominating in every way. He kneels before you on a chair, open as you rub his stubble into you. He even insists that you sit on his face: ‘I need to taste you more than I do air.’ You have no reason to doubt it, though. He fucks into his fist when you grind down on his chin, his free hand directing you forward until he can lap at your asshole as well. Mando wants you surging, spilling onto him; crying out his name, his real name, which he whispers to you as you come down from his onslaught.

Din, he beams. To you, mesh’la, it’s Din.

[camille-lachenille]

Like a god of old

For @cilil

At first, there is only darkness, like mist on a winter morning. Then there is a glow not unlike dawn piercing through clouds and Théoden blinks, surprised to be able to see. He takes a breath in, shocked not to hear his lungs rattle and feel his chest ache, before noticing he does not need to breathe anymore. He breathes in again anyway, relishing in the lack of pain. If this is death, Théoden thinks, it is a hundredfold better than his last years of life. Only then does he notice the presence beside him, just at the edge of his vision.

Careful, Théoden sits up, marvelling at how easy it is, and look at the being. He looks like an old man, in the dim light, yet his stature is strong and his face unlined by the years. Théoden peers at his face, half hidden in the shadows, and feels his breath hitch. “Father?” he asks quietly, for the man looks like Thengel as he was in his prime. Yet something is off.

The man smiles and his features shift just the slightest, and he bears now a face Théoden knows from countless carved statues and innumerable descriptions in songs. “In a way,” the likeness of Eorl the young says, voice deep as the woods. “I am you father as I am the father of your forefathers, of countless warriors and hunters from Ages past, Théoden Ednew son of Thengel.”

The man’s - no, the god’s - face shifts again, taking the appearance of a dark-haired Elf of noble bearing, and Théoden looks at him in awe. “Béma, my Lord,” he whispers in awe. “So I am well and truly dead, in the Halls of my Fathers…”

This last addition is mostly for him, more a whispered thought than anything else, but Béma still answers. “You are dead indeed, Théoden King, and your death was bold and glorious like few before you. But this is not the halls of your fathers, but the Halls of Mandos. This is but a step in jour journey. Come, walk with me.”

Stunned, Théoden grasps the god’s outstretched hand to help him stand. The motion is strangely fluid, the old ache in his hip gone as if his body is more thought than flesh. Of course he cannot feel pain, he muses, he is dead and his body must be a memory of sorts, an old image he clings to.

Béma leads Théoden through vast halls shrouded in mist, the place eerily silent for their feet do not make a sound on the ground. “I heard of your valour, son of Rohan,” Béma says almost conversationally. “I looked over you on the Tapestries and saw your fate. Be proud, for your end was not in vain and brought a new Age in its wake.”

“I was but an old man riding to his death in despair,” Théoden answers without thinking. He glances at the god walking beside him, and finds he is changed again. Gone is the noble Elflord, replaced by a tall and rugged hunter. Théoden thinks he sees shadows of antlers about his head. “I did my duty to my people after I let them suffer for too long.”

There is a silence before Béma speaks again. “You were despairing indeed, knew you were riding to your death, and yet you met it in your own terms. This demands no small amount of courage, Théoden King. I heard songs already comparing you to me, charging the enemy with fury and might…”

Théoden suddenly feels like a boy barely of age and ducks his head. “They mean no ill, Lord Béma,” he says almost bashfully. “And most certainly my deeds are made grander than they are.”

The god laughs, a deep, rumbling sounds that reminds Théoden of galloping hooves pounding the ground. “Old tales are made to be sung again and again, and I have no grudge against the bards likening you to me, son of Rohan. And I may even say that they are more flattering to me than you. For, you see, I am made for battle and blood, while you had to shape yourself for this role in pain and despair. And you turned this despair to rage, to strength to face your enemy head on in a way I will never be able to. Yes, you are strong, Théoden King, and worthy of all the songs that will be sung about you in the Age to come. But we reached the path you have to take now, I cannot go forward.”

Indeed, they stopped walking, and they are facing doors that look carved out of the very mist that bathe the place. Théoden runs his hand, calloused but smooth of any wrinkles, on the shifting shapes of the doors. He sees a child crying, a woman falling down a ravine, a king lying down to sleep, a woman with her babe in her arms closing her eyes. He breathes in, for the last time he knows, and look back at Béma.

“My Lord, I am honoured you took the time to lead me here,” he says with a bow of his head, so light without a crown resting on his brow.

“The honour was mine, son of Rohan. Go now, your time has come to take this road.”

Théoden closes his hand on the door handle, hesitate. Breathes out. Looks back at Béma once more.

“Your forefathers await you, Théoden King. They are proud of you,” the god says with a warm smile that remind Théoden of his mother’s smile.

Théoden nods at Béma, smiles back and open the doors.

Inspired by this post: https://www.tumblr.com/curiouselleth/746143860815740928/the-ghost-of-jrr-tolkien-rising-from-the

[memoriapraeteritorumbonorum]

Honey, I love your hc! OK I need another set of the Noticing You've Picked Up Their Mannerisms but with Tyelko and also Glorfindel! Please and also thank you in advance! 💚💚💚

Noticing you’ve picked up their mannerisms - Celegorm and Glorfindel

Author’s note: A bit late but here it is! Enjoy queen💅🏽

-

Celegorm

Ever since he was little, Tyelkormo has had the habit of persuading others with a specific move whenever he was about to do something he wasn’t supposed to be doing

He told you about it once, and you had burst out laughing because you simply couldn’t imagine him acting this way, since he was usually the one receiving the compliments — why would he need to turn it around?

It had all started as a joke, when he had asked his mother permission to follow his older brothers into the woods past sunset to go bird watching

Nerdanel, however, had denied her then youngest child and that was when little Tyelko had found out that his silver tongue could get him anywhere

You didn’t believe him when he had told you about this sneaky tactic of his, but then remembered how many times he had persuaded you to do certain things or turn a blind eye on what he was doing

Usually, he would have no problem with you doing your thing but today, you really wanted to practice sparring with the Ambarussar who were insisting you brought their brother’s precious longsword

You knew he wouldn’t allow it, since that weapon meant a lot to him it’s basically an extension of his ego but you decided to give it a try

So when you enter his room, ask nicely and end up getting rejected, you gently hug him from behind and tell him how much you would appreciate it, how he had such a generous heart and how his sword would be the only worthy weapon yadayadayada

Basically you’re sucking up to him like a champ, touch his biceps while you’re at it

Someone with an ego like that simply can’t resist a beautiful person complimenting him right?

“I suppose I could- hey!” He frees himself from your sensual grip and stares at you with wide eyes, a surprised, playful grin spreading across his face seconds later “I don’t believe it, using my own evil ways against me,” he muses in disbelief, feline eyes twinkling mischievously

You feign shock, mockingly placing your hand on your heart “Me? I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

A for effort queen

Nevertheless, Tyelko is impressed. You almost tricked him! That deserves a reward

But now he’s staring at you through the window, hawk eyes watching his precious sword in your nervous hands — performance anxiety incoming

And be prepared to be charmed when you return

Glorfindel

This one is bittersweet

When he first returned from the Halls of Mandos, Glorfindel wore his hair in a single braid, never once letting it down like he used to ages ago

You know it was because of his last battle, and you also know that it had taken him a long time to overcome the habit of putting his golden tresses into a braid whenever he was about to leave his chambers

It just made him feel safer

You’ve seen him do it countless times. You’d wake up to him sitting on the edge of the bed, hands quickly working to weave a specific pattern into the braid

You hardly put your hair up, the sole reason being you preferred it down

But today was rather windy and you’ve been running around with hair blowing all over the place, blocking your view, tangling itself in your jewellery and tickling your face and neck constantly

Glorfindel is at your side, helping you pick some seasonal herbs for you to dry and press later this evening when a lock of your hair blows in his face, making him scrunch his nose

You laugh, gently pulling it back and begin to complain about the windy weather while your hands simultaneously start gathering the hair and braiding it in his unique style

He’s stunned and just watches you without really listening to you talk — that braid looks awfully familiar

The way your hands subconsciously move just like his astounds him

“Wait, Y/N, let me see,” he softly turns your head to the side to admire the intricate pattern worked into your braid, you literally copied each and every one of his techniques flawlessly

For some reason he feels emotional, knowing that this braid emerged from a deep wound within, and now his beloved is wearing it with a smile on their face

In a way, he feels proud to have had such an impact on you — a person who never really braids their hair in the first place

“What is it?” you ask before connecting the dots “I didn’t realize!” Your hand flies up to touch the back only to be met with his already caressing your hair in awe

“It looks beautiful on you,” he sighs, gently laying the braid across your shoulder

In that moment, Glorfindel feels closer to you than ever

He sees your love in that braid, his story coming into contact with yours and creating something wonderful

You make a mental note to wear your hair like this more often just to see the wistful expression on his face

He doesn’t talk about his last battle very often, but you feel like you got a bit closer to him today

And he feels it too, he’s already contemplating how to share more of his past with you, step by step :)

[cilil]

☽ 𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐨 ☾

"𝑯𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒆𝒕𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈; 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒆 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒆, 𝒔𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒐𝒎 𝒐𝒇 𝑰𝒍𝒖𝒗𝒂𝒕𝒂𝒓."

Whenever I read about Námo in the Valaquenta, this line in particular stands out to me. At first this seems just like a straightforward explanation of his prophetic abilities, yet after thinking about it for a while, I find that it hides a rather tragic fate, perhaps even one of the most tragic fates at least among the Ainur - which is ironic, considering that his power is tied to fate among other things.

Because here's the thing: Námo has all this knowledge about the future, but he cannot use it to change anything. at least not on his own - when Lúthien sings for him, he wants to, but he still has to appeal to Manwë, and Manwë in turn has to determine what Eru's will is.

If you take a closer look at when Námo speaks, how he acts in certain situations and what he says, it becomes even clearer that he's not supposed to interfere.

The Valaquenta states that Námo "pronounces his dooms and judgements only at the bidding of Manwë". when he does, these are the only times we get longer dialogue from him, as he provides some reasoning for his statement as well as telling people what to expect (most importantly in the Doom of the Noldor).

The other times Námo speaks are short comments, mostly in response to other characters making fateful decisions. Examples include:

"Thou hast spoken" - In response to Fëanor saying he won't give up the Silmarils

"And yet remain evil. To me Fëanor shall come soon" - In response to Manwë to saying that good will eventually come from evil

One comment Námo makes is a little different from the previous ones:

"Not the first" - In response to Fëanor claiming he'll be the first of the Eldar to be slain in Aman if he is forced to give up the Silmarils

In this case Námo corrects Fëanor, but as the text states immediately after, the other people present don't understand what he means. I suppose not even Námo can help being snarky sometimes (in fact I like to imagine him as a sarcastic person).

Aside from the previously outlined situations, Námo remains silent for the most part. The most striking example is his silence when Manwë decides to forgive Melkor, which in my opinion supports the theory that Námo is strictly forbidden from using his knowledge of the future (or possible futures) to interfere and/or change the course of fate. he's quiet while others make their fateful decisions, and comments or judges them only after they have done so, as mentioned above.

I suspect either Eru himself decreed this, since he's the one who gave Námo this "gift" of foresight (though I'd rather call it a burden or a curse) and/or Námo forces himself to stay silent as he's very wise and probably understands just how much even the smallest act of interference could change everything forever.

Either way, it must be painful to know of all the sad, tragic and horrible things that happen in the Silmarillion and Tolkien's other writings in advance and be unable to help. While the encounter with Lúthien is painted as the only time Námo was moved to pity, I think his knowledge weighs heavier on him than we can even begin to imagine.

I'm sure Námo has found himself wishing he could do something on several occasions, but he keeps it to himself. he's supposed to be a neutral judge and observer, one of the more passive powers in Arda. Whether his famous curse is even a curse or merely a prophecy isn't quite clear either (read more about that here).

At least Námo has Irmo, Vairë and Nienna to support him. He may not be able to tell them what's wrong most of the time and he seems to have difficulties expressing his emotions, but I'm sure they comfort him to the best of their ability whenever he reaches out🖤

[thefrogdalorian]

The Best of Both Worlds - Chapter Two

Din Djarin x Female Reader Modern!AU

❁ Series Masterlist ❁ My Masterlist ❁ Read on AO3 ❁

Word Count: 4508 Rating: Teen Summary: The character of The Mandalorian is known and loved by millions. But there is another, much softer side to the man who portrays him that Din Djarin is determined to keep hidden from the world, despite the challenges that presents for him and his beloved son, Grogu. Content Warnings: Past child abuse (impacts of Grogu's early childhood trauma is explored but what happened to him is not described in detail) and vomit (Grogu pukes but also not described in detail) - both things are as graphic as in canon. Author's Note: Woo you finally get to meet Din in this universe! Really hope you like how I wrote him and I did his and Grogu's bond justice. Thank you for the kind words about this story, I'm so excited for you to see where it goes. If you'd like to be added to my taglist for this one, please let me know! Also HUGE thanks to @suresnips for being my beta and doing a great job at spotting when I miss words and skip to the next sentence because my brain runs at 2938mph!!

2. He Is My Only Priority [Din's Pov]

If a single one of the millions of viewers who knew him only as a formidable warrior were able see him now, Din Djarin mused, they would never believe that he could possibly be the person behind the tough character with a fearsome reputation that they knew and loved. Mando was famous to millions the world over for his strength and dogged resilience… but the man who portrayed him onscreen was currently wiping up bright blue puke from his son’s stained brown shirt, tutting at him affectionately as he did so. 

Grogu had attacked a packet of cookies that had been momentarily left unattended on the table while Din was off taking a call and the little boy had, as usual, overindulged. It was a common theme with Grogu, as far as food was concerned. Din suspected it was something to do with the traumatic start to Grogu’s life, but he preferred not to dwell on that. It devastated him to imagine how much this tiny, helpless child had suffered before that fateful day when Din had crossed paths with him. Now though, for the rest of his life, Din knew that Grogu would want for nothing. 

Din did not like to dwell on the day, which hopefully lay far in the future, when he would no longer be around to take care of Grogu. But Din comforted himself with the knowledge that he had more than enough funds to provide for his boy, for everything he could ever possibly need or want. And Din would give it to him happily.

Din knew that circumstances in his son’s early life had taken their toll and left lasting consequences that, as a parent, Din had to deal with every single day. Grogu had failed to meet several milestones, including speaking, that he should have for his age. Grogu had just turned three recently, but he had not yet uttered his first words. He struggled walking and moving as a normal child should, too. Grogu hated busy places and loud, bright environments. He would cry hysterically, so Din rarely took him anywhere, unless it was quiet and they had a quick way to get out.

But there were also so many moments that being a father to Grogu was the most joyous, incredible thing that Din had ever experienced. Although Grogu could not speak and did not always return gestures, the times when his big brown eyes would peer into Din’s filled him with a sense of pride that was almost overwhelming. To have that reassurance that Grogu was happy meant everything to Din. Even if the only thing Grogu did was stare at Din with his big brown eyes, with a slight smile on his face as he turned his favourite shiny ball in his hands over and over again, it meant everything to Din. 

As Din wandered to the sink to wash the cloth that he had grabbed to tend to Grogu’s mess, he pondered – with a smirk – over knowing that if fans of the show could see him now, their illusion of the gritty, aloof warrior would shatter. They would instead see a completely different side to the man beneath the Beskar. A gentle, caring side that would never align with Mando’s fearsome reputation. It was strangely satisfying to Din to know that no one would ever get to see these two sides of him. There were only three people on this Earth who knew that Din Djarin was The Mandalorian: the show’s creators, and the leader of Din’s tribe. But Din had a strictly professional relationship with them. Sure, the creators had seen Din helmetless in some early meetings for the show, but they would never get to witness such a private moment between Din and his son. Likewise, while the leader of the tribe knew about Grogu and his fighting, Din was often separated from her by many miles. When they did cross paths, it was like a cordial encounter with a distant relative. Friendly but not too familiar.

Apart from the show’s creators and the golden-haired woman who was the leader of Din’s tribe, everyone else either knew him as Din, or Mando. Like most things in his life, Din was meticulous that the two versions of himself would never overlap and be known by a single individual. 

Caring for Grogu was a key part of the reason why Din had fought for such a strict stipulation in his contract that his identity remain a secret. Fear of what people would think of him and protection from the often rabid nature of Star Wars fans was partially what had motivated Din’s insistence in concealing his identity, that was true. But there were other reasons why Din had fought so hard to maintain his privacy. Most of them were related to the small boy Din had assumed all responsibility for on that fateful day when their paths had crossed.

Agonising over whether to accept the role had been difficult for Din. Even more so after he had been forced to fight to maintain his privacy, by offering to accept the job on the condition that he would remain anonymous. 

Of course, the multinational, mega-corporation that Din had been forced to negotiate with had not liked the proposal one bit, but he knew that he was in an incredibly strong bargaining position. After all, there was no one else on this planet that would be able to portray The Mandalorian as effectively as Din Djarin would be able to. He knew that, Disney knew that. It was why they had even approached him in the first place. So, they folded and Din’s identity remained a complete secret, known to only a handful of people. Even his co-stars had no idea about who he was, which was lucky considering how much of a loudmouth one co-star in particular was.

Yet it was not the sole reason that Din had pursued such a strict stipulation. The ancient Mandalorian Creed that Din followed viewed secrecy as a strength, a key to a survival of their traditions for so many centuries. 

Din’s way of life was one that was becoming increasingly rare: there were not many people left who followed the Way as strictly as he and his covert did. But Din’s adherence to it was absolute. The gratitude that he felt for the people who had taken him in as a child and raised him as one of their own was a debt that, truthfully, he felt as though could never adequately repay. So living by his covert’s rules was the least he could do. It was far from a burden to Din.

But above preserving his ego from any harsh comments that may come his way, or maintaining the secrecy of his tribe and the Creed they followed… the primary reason that Din had been so insistent about the anonymity clause in his contract before he agreed to sign on to play The Mandalorian, was the desire to keep his son out of the spotlight. 

Grogu was not Din’s biological son, from looking at the two of them side-by-side, that much was obvious. Although they shared similar dark, curly hair, Grogu’s was much curlier and he had a complexion darker than Din’s own olive skin. It was a deeper bronze and contrasted sharply with the child’s grey locks. Din was not entirely sure why Grogu’s hair had taken on such a hue, he supposed once again that it had to do with trauma from the first part of Grogu’s life, before he met Din. 

It was precisely for that reason, Grogu’s welfare, that Din refused to invite any kind of intrusion into the little boy’s life by leading a life in the public eye, where strangers could scrutinise the pair and the way they lived their life. Besides, Din liked it this way, his anonymity clause allowed him to live a largely peaceful life, outside of the times he was required on set. The studios that The Mandalorian was filmed in were in the peaceful English countryside, convenient enough to be close by to the country’s capital but without treading inside the sprawling city’s boundaries. 

Din had stipulated a small, quaint cottage next to peaceful, lush farmland not too far away from the studios as part of his contract. It was an ideal base for Din and Grogu between filming days. Plus, its location allowed him to explore the countryside and maintain his own training regime – portraying a Mandalorian onscreen was an incredibly demanding and physical role, after all. The studio had tried to set him up with trainers but Din had let them go after only one session. No one understood what it meant, physically, to be a Mandalorian more than Din Djarin did. He had more than proved that when he easily outworked the so-called professionals that had been hired to force him into a punishing regime. They were no match for Din, with all of his years of experience working various physically demanding jobs.

It was that training regime that Din was preparing to follow as he put Grogu down for a nap. It seemed after the incident with the cookies, Grogu was thoroughly worn out. So Din placed him down for a nap in the plushie covered cot in his room, which overlooked the picturesque English countryside. 

Filming for the third season of the show was really beginning to ramp up and there were numerous action scenes and stunts that Din had to carefully prepare for. For a man in his mid-thirties, he was remarkably fit, with a strong, muscular physique that was pronounced but not overly buff. Din sighed as he attached the various pieces of armour to himself, in preparation for a session on the treadmill in the little outbuilding that had been transformed into a home gym to allow him to workout in private.

Din stared at his reflection in the mirror, as he entered the gym, cradling his helmet in his hand. He marvelled at how different he looked in the armour. It was surreal to him that he could shift from a stressed, tired father who had to mop up his son’s puke, to looking like an intimidating warrior in such a short space of time. 

Of course, it was that intimidating aspect of his culture that The Mandalorian had originally intended to focus on. It was pitched as a show about a lone bounty hunter traversing the galaxy, but with Din’s input it had turned into something more profound. Din had passionately argued that Mandalorians should have a moral obligation to leave the places they visited better than they found them, it was a practice he adhered to with the way he followed his Creed. The Mandalorian’s signature phrase “This is the Way,” had also been included at Din’s own suggestion. If anything, Din had left The Mandalorian better than how he had found it. After the writers had met Din, they had been encouraged to transform the show from the hollow violence-oriented show that it had been pitched as into something with a little more humanity. It was precisely that humanity of the character that most viewers had fallen in love with. 

Sometimes, it was hard to tell where the character of The Mandalorian ended and Din Djarin began. Mando was Din’s personality and fighting skills, only exaggerated to an extreme amount. After all, there was far more that came with being a Mandalorian than collecting bounties and hunting down bad guys. Looking after family was extremely important to Mandalorians and formed a fundamental part of their Creed. Din took that vow extremely seriously, as evidenced by the care he took towards his son. Grogu was always going to be the number one priority in his life.

As Din ran on the treadmill, pushing the limits despite the heavy armour and helmet that he was wearing, his mind wandered to his and Grogu’s story so far. Din had never seriously considered that it would be possible for him to be a father. It was not something that he had ever foreseen for himself. He had lost both of his parents at such a young age that for the first chunk of his life, attachment of any kind had terrified him. He had done his best to keep himself to himself, travelling between jobs with his head down, minding his own business and just anticipating his next pay day. Din had held down many jobs over the years – nightclub bouncer, security guard, personal protection for the elites, stuntman (which was the job that ultimately got him the contacts for the role of The Mandalorian) and he had even liaised with the intelligence services of various nations. 

They sounded like the most thrilling jobs in the world and indeed to outsiders, Din supposed they were. But after the day he had crossed paths with Grogu, he had found that there was no job comparable to that of being a father. Looking after the little boy, watching him thrive and blossom into an adorable child after everything he had been through was truly the greatest privilege of Din’s life. It mattered to him far more than fame, fortune or anything else the world could offer him. Din would go to the ends of the earth for Grogu. 

That fateful day, in that terribly dark attic, when Din pulled back the blanket over the white pram and found Grogu’s big, brown eyes peering up at him with nothing in them except sheer terror, Din had made a promise to himself that he would never again allow anyone or anything to make Grogu feel so afraid ever again, for as long as he lived. So far, Din thought that he had done a pretty good job. Even if he occasionally spoiled the child – how could he ever say no to those big brown eyes? – it was a small price to pay to know that Grogu was safe and happy.

Indeed, for the first few months, Din had not understood much at all about the child he had strode purposefully out of that house with. Din had no idea who he was, or where Grogu came from, if his parents were even still alive. For a while, Din had not even known Grogu’s name. All Din had known for certain was the unlikely bond the two of them shared. It went beyond words or description, the overwhelming affection and protectiveness he felt for the little boy was more than he had ever felt for another being in his entire life, certainly since the deaths of his parents. 

Din had not wanted to do anything to jeopardise that, keeping Grogu hidden when he went to his various jobs. But there came a point when Din knew this was untenable. Sooner or later, they would slip up and someone would find out about Grogu. Perhaps they would even take the little boy from him. That was a risk that Din could not afford to take. 

It wasn’t until Din realised that and finally felt secure enough to show Grogu to the leader of his covert that things had started to move quickly. Journeying to the last known location of where the tribe had been hiding, deep in the Mojave desert in a collection of caves, had been daunting to Din. He had been unsure of how the leader would respond to an outsider in Grogu. But fortunately, she had been nothing but welcoming and accepting of the small boy who seemed to have an incredible ability to effortlessly charm everyone he encountered.

The golden-haired woman who led Din’s covert had insisted that Din take Grogu to the local authorities. A sympathetic woman with bright blue and white hair that contrasted with her coppery skin, called Ahsoka Tano, had vowed to take on Din’s case and assured Din that she would do her best to ensure that Din and Grogu would be reunited. 

Ahsoka had believed every word of Din’s story, no matter how far-fetched it had appeared. Din had felt tremendous relief as they sat there together in the office. Despite the formality of the setting, Ahsoka had made Din feel instantly relaxed. Din had taken on groups of dangerous men as though it was second nature, but sitting there in the office as the story of how he happened across the child was cross-referenced had been perhaps the most terrifying ordeal of them all. 

Ahsoka had told Din that his son’s name was Grogu and that he had also lost his parents when he was young. Grogu had been sent to some distant relatives, who had taken good care of him until tragedy had befallen them too. Details were murky, but it seemed that Grogu had then passed around various shady establishments, in the hands of various nefarious characters. That was, until Din encountered him as part of his line of work at that particular time – liaising with local law enforcement to run a sting on a drug ring. But there were no real firm details of Grogu’s life from the time between the relatives who had taken him in being brutally murdered and when he met Din.

Then the two of them had been shown to a playroom, with a two-way mirror, where a collection of social workers and law enforcement would observe the two of them interacting. The entire ordeal made Din nervous, but he just concentrated on playing with the shiny ball – which was Grogu’s favourite toy – and tried to forget about the professionals observing the two of them, unseen, no doubt making their notes. Din’s hands had been trembling, so nervous was he that Grogu would be taken away from him.

When Din left the room, he was told that everything appeared to be in order thus far and Grogu should be allowed to return to him. But first they had to conduct some checks to verify Din’s story and ensure that Grogu would come to no harm if Din officially adopted him.

Standing there in the office, watching as an emergency foster parent named Luke Skywalker left with Grogu, Din had cried in public for the first time in his life. He had been unable to stop the genuine tears streaming down his cheeks as the little boy who had changed everything for him left. Din did not know whether he would ever see him again, though he had promised Grogu that he would in the brief moment they had been allowed to spend together before Grogu was taken away. 

It was a memory that was almost bringing Din to tears now, as he set the treadmill to a lower speed and walked to end his workout. As his long legs stretched and his feet thudded rhythmically against the moving surface, his heart ached as he remembered how shattered and broken he had felt in that moment. How he had feared that he would never feel true happiness again.

The period between Grogu leaving had been perhaps the toughest time in Din’s adult life. He had just felt as though he was getting to know who Grogu really was, their bond had reached new depths. Cruelly, immediately after feeling as though he was really getting to know Grogu and even finally learning the name of the boy who had changed so much in Din’s life, the child had been snatched away from him. He had to keep going though, for Grogu. 

After months of wandering around aimlessly, Din had finally received a call with an update. Grogu was to be returned to his care. Despite the suddenness of the news – Din did not even have proper lodgings or consistent employment – there had not been a second thought in Din’s mind about taking Grogu back. Din returned to the office where mere months ago, he had feared his life had been as good as over. 

Din had been stunned when he was summoned back to the office, having expected to see Skywalker himself, it was in fact a colleague of Ahsoka’s, called Artoo, who had handed Grogu back to a grateful Din. It was an overwhelming experience and there had been many tears shed and cuddles that night, when Din had finally been able to take Grogu home.

Although Din’s life was in a period of uncertainty, Grogu’s return had coincided with the negotiations for him to appear as The Mandalorian. Getting Grogu back had lit a new fire in his belly, both to secure the job and to ensure his son’s protection with the anonymity clause. It had not been an easy process, with much adjustment and many stressful hours of negotiations. But when negotiations had finally ended with an agreement which adhered to Din’s terms, it had been an incredible feeling. 

After the contract with Disney had been finalised with Din’s demands honoured, a strict set of rules had been agreed upon for everyone working on the show. Din would don his armour before arriving at the studio and the only two people in the studio who were aware of his true identity were the show’s creators. The cast were fully aware that the actor portraying The Mandalorian wished to maintain his anonymity. It didn’t stop them from trying, though. A certain curly-haired co-star named Peli Motto, who Din enjoyed spending time with despite how extroverted she was, had done her best to catch him out. But she was no match for the decades Din had spent hiding his identity, fading into the background like a wallflower.

Aside from his castmates' curiosity, Din had constantly shied away from his role of The Mandalorian. He didn’t have social media and had only recently mastered texting. Aside from that, although he preferred to stay at home, if he did venture out and happen across a Mandalorian shirt, the embarrassment Din felt was almost paralysing. Din was terrified each time that they would somehow be onto him and realise perhaps through how he walked or his build that he was in fact the man behind the character they loved so much.

The most Din had ever done in terms of publicly acknowledging to himself as The Mandalorian, was when he had visited the local children’s hospital in full armour to spread some joy to the sick children there. It had been a little act of kindness that had been suggested to him by the creators of the show. To the doctors, nurses, patients and their parents, the visit from Mando was done by a kindhearted, enthusiastic fan of the show. Din had been terrified of repercussions when pictures had appeared in the local paper, even though his visit had been cleared through official channels. His visit had also apparently gone viral on social media, not that Din had seen any of it. Peli had delighted in telling him about it, though, even reading out some of the more salacious comments about how hot he looked in the armour.

The public had been amazed that such a realistic-looking costume could be made, fans had been begging for the man to reveal how he had crafted such an incredibly realistic cosplay. Of course, the truth could never be revealed. Din never planned to reveal his identity, no amount of money could ever tempt him – and he had been offered life changing sums, numerous times in fact.

But the way the kids' faces lit up on that day at the hospital weighed on Din’s mind a lot. That was worth more to him than any amount of money. Some of them had been very ill, he had known that their prognoses were not good. But the sheer joy that Din was able to evoke in others just by dressing in his armour had opened his eyes to the impact that this character was having in the outside world, outside of the self-imposed isolation that Din kept himself in. It gave him an idea, one related to a conversation that had on set earlier in the day.

Din knew the reason his mind had turned to such memories. As he made his way back in the house, after his work out he lingered in the kitchen, warring with himself whether he should open it. 

An envelope lay unopened on the kitchen table, next to where Din had been attending to his son’s blue-cookie-induced wardrobe malfunction earlier in the afternoon. It was an invitation to a fan convention that had been enthusiastically pressed into his hand by his curly-haired co-star on set the previous day.

Peli Motto had boundless enthusiasm and energy. Although she portrayed a minor character in the show, she was nevertheless a fan favourite and she loved interacting with the large, passionate fan base that the Mandalorian had. Peli had been bemused that her character had received such a great reception – of course there was always going to be a vocal group of haters on social media, but for the most part people loved the kooky mechanic from Tatooine – but she had been immensely grateful for it. The amount the fans had loved her had encouraged the shows’ writers to gradually include her in a greater number of scenes. Perhaps that was why Peli always felt so compelled to visit these conventions and give back to the fans. Din could think of nothing worse. Whereas Peli was most comfortable in a room full of people, Din was far more shy and reserved, his personality mirrored Mando’s in that way.

But something was telling Din Djarin to open that envelope, his official invitation to the convention. Although he had no plans to go, Din’s curiosity got the better of him and he reached for the envelope.

The elaborate font was printed on glossy paper and Din found his eyes scanning the words:

GalaxyCon

London, UK

14th, 15th, 16th & 17th June 2024

Dear Mando,

We would be delighted if you would join us for some out of this world fun at our 17th annual ForceCon at the Dockside Convention Centre in London, England this June!

Please find attached your badges for entry. They will be upgraded once you arrive. We are running several panels about The Mandalorian and we would be honoured if you would attend them as a special guest! If you are interested, please contact our Invited Guest Assistant Cara Dune on 073790848.

We hope to see you there!

– ForceCon Team

Din had no intention of actually taking up the offer to attend a panel or to liaise with the woman, who was certain to be incredibly sycophantic, as those interacting with famous names occasionally could be. But he reasoned that it couldn’t hurt to go along in his armour as just another fan, with the regular badges. Din planned to take some photos, meet some kids. He would only stay for a couple of hours and then he would be on his way again. What was the worst that could happen?

It wasn’t like fan conventions could possibly be life-altering experiences, anyway.

Next Chapter

Taglist: @toxic-seduction

[amusedphan]

the benefits of being mexican and adhd means you're always late to a party (@phanniemasquerade ) 🤪

i'm mando, and i'm half a month from being exactly a decade younger than dan. first mask is a nod to my area of study, second is based off alebrijes. i'm gay as fuck and in an inchresting Situation that is extremely similar to phan except we're somehow not technically together. i started watching dnp (+listening to muse) a decade ago and even did a few phandom meetups back in the day, thought they were cringe for a while, and now i'm back to being cringe <3

i might want to do some music stuff if i ever get off my ass, but mostly i want to get back to writing rpf now that i have dnp's blessing... and to not let whatever i wrote in grade 8 be the only phan stuff i have out there :/

[thelordofgifs]

End of Year Fic Recs

Thank you @sallysavestheday for the tag and the kind rec 💕

Recommend up to 5 series or multi-chapter fics from 2023 that everyone should read (multi-year WIPs count, if the last update was in 2023).

Recommend up to 5 single chapter fics/one-shots (long or short) from 2023 that everyone should read.

Recommend up to 5 fics NOT from 2023 that everyone should read (oldies but goodies).

Recommend up to 5 of your own fics (completed or WIP) from 2023 that everyone should read.

Five WIPS from 2023:

we will make this place our home by @leucisticpuffin. 200k, AU, kidnap fam. The loveliest softest 1970s AU! It feels like reading all my favourite cozy childhood books and the characterisation is impeccable (Maglor my DARLING). Cannot recommend enough.

seabird by @welcomingdisaster. 24k, AU, russingon. "Give me a quick russingon prompt for smut week," Lena said. I obliged. This happened. Anyway the dynamics are so so good and the characterisation is so so good (Maedhros you little IDIOT) and the suspense!! is so good!! Everyone go and read it immediately.

ashes, ashes, dust to dust — the devil's after both of us by @that-angry-noldo. 9k, AU, Finarfin and Maedhros and Maglor. Maedhros and Maglor come up with a plan to capture the High King of the Noldor in return for the Silmaril. SUCH good m&m (I am a single-issue voter ok!) and incredible Finarfin/Eonwe dynamics as well, I cannot wait to see where this fic goes next.

Atandil by @eilinelsghost. 105k, canon compliant, Finrod/Bëor. The best worldbuilding, THE most gorgeous flowing heartrending prose, absolutely incredible characterisation... I am so so obsessed with this series you can't imagine. Still weeping over part 14 a month later.

And Love Grew by @polutrope. 8k, canon compliant, kidnap fam. A newer WIP, but I'm already so hooked! So far the characterisations of all the Fëanorians have been delicious and there are SO many compelling OCs as well.

Five one-shots from 2023:

Sea-Bells and Sunlight by @actual-bill-potts. 4.5k, canon compliant, Finrod and Lúthien and Beren. Lúthien finds both Finrod and Beren in the Halls of Mandos. LOVE the shifting dreamlike nature of Mandos here, and my darling Lúthien is so so perfect. Also all the Finrod feels... aahhh.

Somewhere To Return To by @searchingforserendipity25. 4k, canon compliant, Maedhros and Maglor, russingon. Just the softest loveliest most heartbreaking post-Thangorodrim fic. LetMaedhrosNap2k23.

the world to come by @arrivisting. 4k, AU, Fëanor/Nerdanel. A chilling imagining of Arda Remade, featuring some incredible Fëanor characterisation and the most gorgeous beautiful prose.

Quicksilver by @clothonono. 26k, AU, Indis/Míriel. Beautiful beautiful writing and wonderful characterisation. One of the fics that made me adore Indis.

What Will the Kinslayer Lord Do Next? by @tanoraqui. 3k, canon compliant, Maedhros and Maglor. Ok this is a spin-off of The Minstrel and the Star which you should also read because it's excellent but. again. SINGLE-ISSUE VOTER. and this is a top-tier m&m fic, all that tenderness and grief and bitterness and some delicious musings on the Oath and Silmarils.

Five older fics:

and one man, in his time, plays many parts by @lintamande. Canon compliant, Maglor and his younger brothers. One of my favourite Mithrim-era fics.

seven years of holidays by @jouissants. 10k, AU, kidnap fam. Elrond and Elros find a strange elf in the woods. Excellent kidnap fam dynamics and absolutely beautiful prose.

A reason to live (a reason it is not permissible to die) by Chestnut_pod. 27k, canon compliant, Eärendil/Elwing. Absolutely incredible Sirion worldbuilding and a wonderful depiction of Elwing.

elves, once by @ceescedasticity. 43k, canon compliant. THE most horrifyingly plausible theory of how orcs came to be. Both heartbreaking and fascinating.

It's the New World, Darling by @avantegarda. 107k, AU. A truly delightful 19th-20th century AU of the silm. Nothing makes me laugh as much as Victorian!Fëanorians.

Five self-recs:

The hard bit!

Ilimbë. 15k, canon compliant, Fëanor/Nerdanel. I still think this is the best thing I've ever written! Check it out if you're interested in Greek mythology, or in baby Fëanor making an idiot of himself.

the fairest stars. 78k, AU, Maedhros & Maglor, russingon, Beren/Lúthien and more. Probably my favourite of my fics, if not objectively my best. I know I love to hate on tfs for being completely insane, but I'm also pretty proud of it. It's got some of my best m&m, a rather in-depth exploration of the nuances of the Oath of Fëanor, and SO SO MANY cliffhangers. A silly bullet point fic that is also somehow the one I've put the most thought and effort into over the year.

in the breaking. 2k, canon compliant, Maedhros & Maglor. Still very fond of this one.

Inflection. 9k, canon compliant, kidnap fam. A very difficult one to write, but I'm proud of the result.

The Stranger. 928 words, canon compliant, Maedhros and Maglor. A very tiny little ficlet, but I like how I captured the post-Thangorodrim dynamics here.

Going to tag everyone I mentioned here, if you'd like to share!

[cienie-isengardu]

Hey! I'm not on Tumblr but I've been following your blog a while now and pouring through the archives. Saw yesterday's post on commando replacements and have also pondered the subject. I co-write a collab. fanfic series about the cuy'val dar on Kamino and that issue came up in a story arc. We settled on Fett splitting the 10K commando brigade into four regiments of compatible training sgts to shuffle incomplete squads around in a waiting list system. Lots of math and story...

Hello there! I'm pleasantly surprised there are brave people out there to wander into my archives. Thank you for letting me know, I’m really glad I’m not the only one trying to figure out the replacement system :D 

I would be very surprised if the commando batches weren’t splitted according to the Republic's military system, as clones from the start were supposed to be part of the army, thus the military structures needed to be instilled in them as fast as possible, so any other scenario seems unlikely.  Which for sure gives also better management of training because I sincerely doubt one instructor could alone teach 100-104 men everything that the commando needs to know, even if tie-in source like Making the man: selection and training [Star Wars Insider 84] says that commandos “underwent separate training from early childhood in close-knit “pods” of brothers with each “batch” of 25 or 26 squads under the supervision of a single training sergeant”. 

Yeah, lots of match and headache to keep track on everything and everyone but to be honest, the one aspect that bothers me the most is the idea that Kal Skirata, Walon Vau or Mij Gilmar - or any Mandalorian instructor for the matter - would let anyone take away one of their boys and transfer said clone into squad trained by someone else (because let's face it, not every time it could be possible to shift survivors within the same batch). This is what I can’t wrap my mind about, not because there was little to no indication in text something like that happened (beside Atin being one of Skirata’s boys once he joined Omega Squad) but what we knows about Kamino era, it feels to me that those Mandalorians would kill each other sooner than letting go of any of their cadets? Not to mention what a terrible trauma it could be for a clone to be shifted from a type of training he knew all his life into someone’s unfamiliar methods? And okay, a Vau’s boy transferred into Skirata’s batch doesn’t sound that bad but can anyone imagine if Mij’s cadet became part of a squad trained by Dred Priest? Because all I can imagine is the Kill Bill music playing in the background when Mij is on a killing spree once his (former) trainee gets injured in fighting circle for Priest’s amusement and I don’t think that would work in the long run. So, either there was someone responsible for making sure that a clone fills the gap in the wisely-chosen squad to avoid additional conflict between already conflicted instructors or in case there was no available replacement the squads operated as a team of two-three (not full squad) or five (an additional brother) or at some point outstanding units from ordinary soldiers were promoted to the status of commandos to "fill the gaps in the cadres". But then again, there are plenty of thingsyes we don’t know about training on Kamino so my guess is as good as anyone.

(Also, shouldn’t there be younger generations of clone commandos, the same as in the AotC film we saw three different generations of common clones? Who would train the middle group, if training sergeants already had their hands full of 100 - 104 men?)