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lovesickeros · 8 months

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☆ even the gods bleed [ pt 2 ]

{☆} characters furina, neuvillette {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings none {☆} word count 1.9k {☆} previous [ 1 ]

This had to be a punishment of some sort – some kind of divine punishment.

She was bored out of her mind just watching the sleeping body – she hadn't blinked once in the past five hours, her eyes were really starting to hurt. Yet they still hadn't moved so much as an inch since she sequestered them away to the only place she had known to be safe.

But it'd been almost a week since then.

The only solace she found was that Teyvat had seemed much less hellbent on collapsing in on itself like a dying star.

That counted for something.

Not much, but something!

..Even if their position was no better then it was a week ago.

There was, after all, still the issue of what to do about the false Creator – the actual imposter – and the Archons following them like blind lambs. The other Archons wouldn't listen if she tried to reason with them, and it would only risk the life of Divine One if she spoke of their location to anyone else.

She also was pretty fond of having her head still attached to her shoulders.

So she avoided them all together. Partially because she wasn't sure she wouldn't have a breakdown at the sight of them..she'd never been a fighter, and fighting an Archon? Easy pass.

Instead she was forced to babysit the sleeping Divine until they woke up while Neuvillette handled taking care of the nation and dealing with the other Archons – and by extension the false Creator.

Really though, she would almost think them dead if not for the subtle rise and fall of their chest.

Though..this also left her with a lot of time to herself. A lot of time to think.

She really didn't like it.

There wasn't a lot to occupy her mind and what little there was only distracted her for a scant few moments before her eyes drifted back to the Divine like she was locked in their orbit, unable to escape.

She closed the same book for the twelfth time – she kept count – and returned it to it's meticulously designed place within her bookcase. A low, barely audible huff of frustration escaped her lips before she could bite it down, her stare boring a hole into the body of the Divine One with a sharp intensity she rarely showed.

She was tired, bored and constantly on edge, fearing that at any moment someone would find out about their presence here.

That, at the drop of a hat, she would be powerless to stop the greatest tragedy of her time play out before her eyes.

Neuvillette would have scolded her for being so petulant, especially around the Divine One, if he were here.

But he wasn't.

He was out running her nation, instead.

And what was she doing? Nothing!

She grit her teeth, nails digging harshly into the palm of her hands as she took a deep breath – now was not the time to think about that. She had..much more pressing matters. Sulking and letting her thoughts spiral helped no one, least of all herself.

Yet her attention was caught by a harsh inhale, the rustle of fabric – were they finally waking up? She was exhausted, but it all vanished at the sudden drop of life within the otherwise deathly still body of the Divine.

Her eyes followed the subtle twitch of their fingers, watching as their brow furrowed and their features twisted in something almost like..pain.

..She wasn't ready.

What was she supposed to say?

Should she even say anything? Would that be considered impolite? Does she wait for them to speak first? Should she kneel? Bow?

She doesn't get much time to find her own answer before their lashes flutter, chest heaving with every strangled breath. Every single thought vanishes from her mind the moment she meets their eyes.

For a long, silent moment she thinks that her heart must have stopped.

Their eyes glow like the cresting of the sun over the horizon, painting the world in hues of gold – yet it also reminded her of the dipping of the moon below the waves, casting the briefest, most gentle of lights upon the world engulfed in darkness. In the depths of their eyes was the birth and death of stars in the infinite cosmos – glittering stars in a sea of empty, blank space that left her feeling lightheaded and breathless.

Beneath the splendor is a spark of recognition in their eyes so vibrant it was like a shooting star piercing through the dark night sky, leaving nothing but the wonder in the eyes of the observer as the only proof it ever existed – brilliant in it's beauty, however brief.

It is the most beautiful thing she has ever seen.

"Focalors?"

The lilt of their voice nearly made her knees buckle beneath her – euphoria so consuming it left her feeling she was starving swallowed her whole, her mind blanking in a moment of utter bliss. It was..an indescribable feeling that she doubted she could ever hope to put into words – not in a way that could properly express it, try as she might.

She swallowed the words that threatened to spill from her lips – she couldn't make a fool of herself. Not in front of them of all people. She'd never forgive herself.

"Divine One," She rasps, clearing her throat and covering her mouth with a hand to mask both her nervousness and the small smile that creeps across her face. She quickly regains her composure, hand resting on her hip as she puffs out her chest with every bit of pride she can manage. "I am sure you must be confused, but worry not– your most loyal acolyte has seen the truth!"

The silence is deafening.

She opens one eye, peaking at the bewildered and almost distraught expression of the Divine.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

That..she was not prepared for. Surely they knew who they were! Surely they knew. They had to– she's been praying to them for as long as she's breathed, she's dedicated every hour of her life to living up to their ideals, they can't just–!

"Lady Furina?"

Neuvillette, thankfully, spares her the embarrassment of having a meltdown in front of the Divine, the gentle rap of his knuckles against the door making her and the Divine pause, the soft lull of his voice soothing her nerves and yet setting her on edge at the same time.

"Neuvillette." She clears her throat again, her steps hurried as she marches to the door and pries it open none too gently, a forced smile pulling at her lips. She wastes no time tugging the man into the room, shutting the door behind him with a short huff. The silence is, somehow, even worse then before as the three of them stare at each other in absolute exasperation.

Neuvillette, for his part, manages to get his act together with a sharp clearing of his throat, bowing so low even she looks unnerved. She steals a brief glance at the Divine, and she's taken aback by the uncomfortability twisting their features into a grimace.

Their expression is schooled back into one of empty apathy when he stands back to his full height, but she saw it – she knows she did! Did they not like their worship? Were they not respectful enough? For a moment, she feared the Divine would smite Neuvillette down on the spot..but they just stared at him like he was a ghost.

"Why aren't you killing me?"

The defeated, resigned tone combined with the way their voice cracks makes her heart ache in her chest – it feels as though her entire world is crumbling down at her feet, and she cannot explain why she feels such emotions so strongly, but it is suffocating. It is almost as if Teyvat itself is weeping, bearing down upon her shoulders like a heavy weight.

She feels the urge to weep herself, but she powers through, gritting her teeth long enough for Neuvillette to take his place at the side of her – though it feels more like their – bed, kneeling like he was going to pray.

"Divine One," He offers a hand with a quiet rumble of his voice, the words slipping off his tongue like honey. It's like trying to soothe a stray cat..though she'd never voice such comparisons of the most Divine out loud. "I..we mean you no harm. I swear on my authority as the Iudex of Fontaine and Chief Justice that you are safe with us."

The skepticism she expected, but the reverence in which Neuvillette must convince them – or perhaps they are simply so tired that they simply did not care any longer if it was all some ploy to drive a knife between their ribs. She didn't expect them to actually place their hand in Neuvillette's.

He didn't either, judging by the way he visibly brightened – not that they'd notice, but she did.

..Not that she could really blame him, her heels clicking against the floorboards as she shifted her weight to the other foot with a nervous energy that was practically bursting at the seams, more then a little jealous of the attention he was receiving. She was the one who found them, she was the one who stayed with them the entire time..but he gets all the attention?

How unfair.

"O-of course! We would never lay a hand on our creator," She adds, her voice a little higher pitched then she would have liked as she placed her hands on her hips, puffing out her chest and brushing off the sting of jealousy. "Least of all I– your most loyal, most devout acolyte!"

She felt baffled when she heard the sound of their laughter, her shoulders hunching and her cheeks flushing on mere instinct – she was expecting mockery, but the look in their eyes, still dulled by a pain she cannot even begin to imagine, made her hesitate.

..It was, perhaps, the most genuine thing she'd heard from them ever since before the hunt began.

She wasn't sure why her heart hurt at such an idea, but it was enthralling to see the beginnings of a half hearted smile on their lips.

For a moment, her mask of theatrics was forgotten as she stared at them in a mixture of awe and adoration– and though she didn't look at Neuvillette, she could imagine he must've shared such an expression.

Had she any doubts that they were her Creator, that they alone were the most Divine..they would wiped clean now. There was no mistaking the way the world itself seemed to grow clearer as they glanced up at her like she was worth something.

For a moment, she realized how cold the false Creators gaze had been now that she has felt warmth so gentle it almost made her knees buckle beneath her. It felt like a pale imitation, now.

Nothing could compare to the warmth that spread through her body at the mere semblance of a smile upon their lips. She didn't even mind if it was her they were laughing at anymore, she just wanted to hear them laugh again.

She'd make a fool of herself, if she had to.

She'd never felt so..ravenous for such a thing, but just the briefest glimpse was addictive.

She simply couldn't help herself from striding across the room and clasping their free hand in her own, her smile wide enough to unnerve as she leaned her weight onto the bed. For a moment, she considered pulling away at the way they startled, but her mind was made up by then – there was no going back.

"Again."

#sagau #genshin sagau #self aware genshin #genshin impact sagau #self aware genshin impact #fic tag #neuvillette #focalors #furina #dont ask what happened here idk #this was. also supposed 2 be neuvi focused and then i.#dont talk 2 me abt focalors i wont ever shut up #got a 300k word essay on hand abt how i feel abt her character/how i interpret her personality and her story #focalors jsut like me fr fr (cries at the slightest inconvenience or the slightest mean comment)#shes so pathetic girlfail im gonna chew on her #what happens when reader gets stuck with two emotionally repressed french bastards?? hell #neuvi is the “emotionless” flavor of emotionally repressed in that hes HORRIBLE at showing emotions at all #ask him to smile and its incredibly unnerving and theres too many teeth but hes trying his best please call him pretty or he will cry :(#furina is the flavor of emotionally repressed where she makes it up by having Too Many emotions #using theatrics and masks to show everyone what they want to see but inside this girl is a MESS #constant anxiety and panic 24/7 #will do random shit and look at you and if u dont compliment her she will think u hate her and cry #compliment her and she'll do even stupider shit to try and impress you more #i love my scrunkly little babies they r so stupid and mentally ill someone get these bitches some THERAPY #i want 2 put them under a microscope #watch this be ooc fr furina when more of her lore drops if shes not girlfail im leaving #anyway see u in a week im going on a trip ill get back 2 u in 6-7 business days

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river-of-wine · 3 months

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The way Hosea talks about Bessie is genuinely one of the sweetest things ever I just. How fondly he still reminisces about her, how dearly he holds her memory. From areas that remind him of her to little things like playing dominoes with Arthur, she’s always on his mind. The last thing he thinks about when he goes to sleep and the first thing he things about when he wakes up. “How a wretched sinner like me could be given someone so perfect, so beautiful to take care of for once in my wretched life, do my best”. God he loved her. He loves her. He cannot rationalise her death, he cannot see any fairness in how she has died and he is still alive. He left the gang for her and it didn’t last but he did leave, he tried to live a normal life for her, and she understood when he drifted back into things. Even with his approaching death, he’s worried that he won’t get to see her again, that she’s gone to heaven and he won’t end up there with her, and even still he says he’s ready for his own death. He loved her and he still loves her and he loves her until his death does find him. Every time he talks about her you can just feel all of that love he still has for her and it makes me so emotional. Old man loves his wife

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #hosea matthews #bessie matthews #I’m writing more of my fic right now and listening to hosea talk about bessie and it’s going to make me cry #WHAT KIND OF JUDGE WOULD SAVE ME AND TAKE HER? A FOOLISH ONE I CANT RESPECT ANY MORE THAN I CAN RESPECT MYSELF #I love you bessie matthews and your fancy outfit #the way he just goes I MISS HER SO! man I will weep at this campfire I really will

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turrondeluxe · 8 months

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Opinion on the hc that the (2012) turtles are bilingual (with there first language being Japanese) ?

(Kansjevdjdhud, I love that hc smm<3)

ITS ONE OF MY FAVORITE HEADCANON EVER

i love multilingual turtles!!!

i do think 2012 it's the one iteration that seems to be more in touch with yoshi's culture the most.

this might be for the fact that yoshi didn't have absolutely anyone at all when he arrived to new york, a complete unknown different place to him.

it's not literally specificed but one can deduce yoshi got the four turtles in the first place as an attempt to not feel as lonely after losing his family,his clan and being exiled.

so after the mutation i feel like yoshi would have taught the boys how to speak and read in japanese first instead of english since he would have been trying to find a level of normalcy and comfort in all he was going trough.

Another fact is that the brothers are used to splinter telling them stories as a way to pass the time when they were growing up. I like to think he tells them stories about different things like legends and just silly random stories from his past, all in yoshi's og language.

The show also shows it a lot! the brothers speak and understand japanese words pretty randomly! So i do think they mostly speak it while they are by themselves exclusively and at home instead of english (probably not much when april or casey are around as to not make them feel left out of the conversation tho)

also another fun silly headcanon i like is that mikey somehow speaks and understands spanish because of how he says random words of the language in the show too lol. as to how he learnt it himself idk tho. he probably found some telenovelas in vhs or smt lmao

#i would love for someone to make a silly edit of merging the jp dub together along with the og eng one to see how the family would switch #languages and all!!!!#would be fun!#also my favorite thing ever is when in the jp dub the bros give each other silly names with the honorifics at the end of their names lol #mikey sometimes calling donnie dona chan #or raph tan #it gets me man #you dont get that in the english dub lmao #ALSO LOVE WHENT THE BROS USE SPECIFIC DIFFERENT WAYS TO REFER AS EACH OTHER (ANI. OTOTO. NIICHAN. ETC IT ALWAYS MAKES ME CRY IN FICS)#ask #tmnt 2012

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guest-1-2-3 · 10 months

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Yk what blows my mind is when i’m reading something amazing right, i am so immersed in the story the writing is beautiful it’s making me feel more emotions than i’ve ever felt in all my years of living and then the end notes are just like. “uhhh hope u enjoyed ig? haha” or “idek what this is lol” like sir ma’am my guy your writing is the most gorgeous thing i have ever read. i cried and i laughed and i screamed and i did that thing where you roll around in bed and giggle like a child at 3am. if it was the zombie apocalypse and i could only take one story with me as i fought to survive it would be yours. “what even is this lmao” a masterpiece. a fucking masterpiece is what it is

#kissing writers on the mouth mwah mwah #i guarantee you the things you write will make at least one person so genuinely happy #u don’t understand that 20k friends to lovers fic u wrote filmed me with JOY with HAPPINESS i felt free #the angst fic made me ugly cry and it was the most beautiful kind of pain because your writing was so powerful that for a moment it was rea #i had a shit day and your self indulgent little throwaway fluffy oneshot made me smile and i felt a little better about the world #writers i FUCKING LOVE YOU #i LOVE YOU and i LOVE WHAT YOU CREATE #ao3 #fanfic #fanfic things #fandom things #fanfic writer appreciation #writeblr #writers #writing #fanfiction #writers on tumblr

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potatobugz · 1 year

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*picks you up and dips u in a vat of acid*

#south park #sp #pip pirrup #pip pirrip #damien thorn #dip #sp dip #dip is one of those sjips that i only enjoy if its outside of the canon . show if that makes sense #cuz otherwise like they were only in one episode 2gether and damien like. hated him #but *thinks about them anyways*#i mean as in. i only like it in rlly specific circumstances otheriwse id be indifferent toward it #these all mainly came about cuz im writing a damien and pip friendship fic thing #cuz id like to explore their dynamic actually (and also I WANT PIP TO BE HAPPY)#anyways i rewatched 'Damien' (the episode) so i could characterize him right and like honestly thats gotta be my fav episode in s1 #its fuckin hilarious #also DAMIEN MADE A CAMEO IN A LATER EOISODE AS LIKE A LITTLE EASTER EGG. HE WAS ON SUPER NANNY. LIEK THE TV SHOW #KM CRYING ITS FUCKING AMAZING #i love damien like ppl characterize him as being pissed off all the time and while yea technically true #he feels a lot more. immature to me #hes literally like an angsty little kid and the onyl reason he set pip on fire was to impress the 'cool kids' one might say #cuz hes weird and no one liked him #but i like him.#his weirdness is captivating #damien meeting the lame loser kid that he doesnt like and befriending him cuz they actually have a lot in common #(and damien is very very lonely)#also pip deserves a good cry honest to god #i want. him to be happy. nyow #i want damien 2 be happy too tbh #potatart

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spitinsideme · 23 days

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adult laura lee ... madried to the love of herlife lottir matthews ... au where laura lee survived and got happily married ❤️ (inspired by the lottieler marriage fic on au by @lesbianlotties !! go check it out)

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allmightyscroll-swag · 6 months

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Shout-out to @onejellyfishplease for creating a fic that my brain latched onto so violently that I think of it on a weekly basis

Man, i can't imagine having the feeling of something literally buzzing under your skin writhing to be let out let out let out- being comfortable.

Original sketch below cut;

It was way more moody but I was like. no . The boy is overwhelmed the arts gotta be BRIGHT and EYESORE-y

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idkimtiredanddumb · 2 years

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Steve’s awful stuffy parents who never cared what he did so long as he maintained their image as The Harringtons come home early because something weird and terrible is happening in Hawkins and they should make an appearance and find their son in the living room, COVERED in grime and blood with a bat of nails by his side and a skinny messy haired metalhead boy on his lap SURROUNDED by kids calling him mom

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kg-clark-inthedark · 2 months

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I've been bewitched body and soul by @uncontrol-freak's corvosider au in which Corvo is a grizzled sea captain, so I made a short fan comic for ch 2. If you want to know where the seas will take them, check out their fic, Abyssal!

Higher quality version linked here because tumblr always chews up my comics

#seriously though I highly recommend abyssal #corvosider out at sea what more could you want #seasoned and gruff captain attano has me swooning #overall though I’m pleased with how this comic turned out #big departure from my usual style and I think it paid off #the idea for it to be on old nautical maps is what struck me first while reading the fic #thanks for the inspiration!!#I love this fandom I love how we all feed off each others ideas and share with each other #(also yeah I’m finally glazing my art now and I hate how it makes it look. if you bring up the artifacts I WILL cry)#uncontrol-freak #my art #my comics #abyssal fic #dishonored #the outsider #corvo attano #corvosider #dishonored fanart #dishonored au

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keldae · 1 month

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Musings

Gale couldn't remember the last time he had slept with someone – spending his time asleep wrapped in a lover's arms had been before Mystra. He hadn't ever needed to sleep when he was with his goddess in her realm, and she would never have come to the mortal planes to spend an entire night with him. So sharing his bedroll now was… unusual.

Not a bad type of unusual, he admitted to himself. But still unusual. And it was even more unusual that he hadn't had relations with his bed partner yet – that hadn't ever been a situation he'd found himself in, during the years before Mystra.

But then, with the orb in his chest… having sex was out of the question.

Unable to shut his mind off, he propped his head up on his pillow, looking down at the half-Elf who had stolen his blankets, and was trying to steal his heart. Devi was dead to the world, squished tightly against Gale's side, coppery hair loose around her head. Gale smiled fondly down at the little half-Elf, watching as a few strands of her hair moved with every slow breath past her parted lips.

What are you seeing in your dreams tonight, Devi? he thought, gazing down at the thief. Hopefully her dreams were pleasant tonight. He didn't think she'd had a bad nightmare since they'd started sleeping together in the Underdark – he definitely had had pleasant dreams while sharing his tent and bedroll with her. Are you in Baldur's Gate, thriving as a little thief? Or are you thinking of the halfling and the dwarves from the book we read tonight? She had seemed to enjoy the story he had read to her.

Devi shifted slightly, rolling onto her side, facing Gale. Before he was quite aware of it, he was reaching to gently brush the loose strands of hair out of her face, tucking the locks behind one delicately pointed ear. His thumb touched her lips, slowly tracing the outline of her mouth. For a moment, he felt an unspeakable yearning for the woman sleeping beside him. If her thoughts during their lesson in the Weave were any indication, she wanted to kiss Gale, despite his affliction – and gods knew he desperately wanted to give her that kiss. He wanted to know what it would feel like to press his lips against hers, to let his tongue meet her own, to taste her mouth and breathe in her exhales as he fulfilled the vision she had shared with him of a kiss…

He closed his eyes, trying to force his mind away from the dangerous thoughts of kissing the woman with him. He'd spent the last year struggling to stabilise the orb – he couldn't risk his mental discipline failing him now. If he killed them all because of letting himself think too much, too enthusiastically, of kissing a beautiful girl… He wanted to groan in frustration.

Except that would have woken Devi up. He settled for silently scolding himself instead. Get a grip, Dekarios!

Besides, Devi wouldn't – couldn't – truly love a broken man like Gale was. He was older than she was, by quite a few years – and in trying to keep up with her youthful half-Elven exuberance, he definitely felt every tenday of his age in comparison to her. And he was irreparably broken, only a shadow of the man and wizard he had been a year and a half ago. He was the reject of a goddess, damned by his own foolishness, and doomed to meet an explosive end alone.

In comparison, Devi was young, and full of life and fire and optimism. She had had a poor start in life – any child born poor in the Lower City of Baldur's Gate had a disadvantage. But she was smart, and stubborn, and if she was given the correct support, she could exceed any expectations for a girl born as a poor urchin. Maybe, Gale thought, he could leave a note leaving his wealth to her after he met his unavoidable end? Or he could just give her the key to his tower in Waterdeep before he inevitably had to leave the party to die somewhere safer. If she could cure her tadpole, maybe she could live on, somewhere safer than Baldur's Gate. And it would be a good use for the money and wealth he had, rather than leaving it all to rot. It wasn’t like Tara would really be able to use it, after all.

But he digressed. Devi was too young for him to pursue romantically, too vibrant, too lively to tie herself to a damned man. In another life, if they had ever even crossed paths, they would never have given each other a second thought (unless Devi had identified him as a pickpocketing target… which, Gale knew she would have targeted him in a heartbeat.). Even if he hadn't been damned, they were in entirely different social circles. Imagine the scandal, if he were to return to Waterdeep with an uneducated, uncouth, younger Baldurian thief, and one who could swear like a well-educated mercenary at that, as his lover!

Gale grinned for a moment, imagining the reactions of some of his more class-conscious peers. His amusement faded with a sigh as he looked back down at Devi. You don't deserve as grim a fate as tying yourself to me would give you, he thought. You're too alive and hopeful to bind yourself to a broken, damned man. In another life, one where he wasn't a walking explosive, he might have still taken her to bed, trying to perhaps prove that being this much older than her just meant he was more experienced with pleasing a lover. And he was pretty certain he had pleased Mystra when he was the goddess’s lover – he could have wowed Devi with his command of the Weave in bed. He had already impressed her with their magic lesson after the tiefling party, and that had been tame! What he could have done behind a sound dampening ward to blow her away and make her cry out his name in bliss, over and over again…

Speaking of blowing away, he firmly turned his thoughts away from the idea of bedding Devi, thinking about spell incantations instead. The orb rumbled in his chest, but remained calm for the moment as his heart settled back down.

With another sigh, he stroked Devi's hair back from her face again. Where will your mind take you tonight? Will you dream of me? You really shouldn't – I'm a dead man walking. You deserve better than a broken heart. Although, wasn't he bold, to think that Devi might care for him the way he did her? What could he possibly offer her besides his knowledge of the arcane? He was doomed twice over – once from the illithid tadpole, and once from his own idiocy. She at least still had a chance at a normal life once she was cured of the tadpole.

Tomorrow, he decided, he would start trying to distance himself from her. It would hurt her in the short term, and it would be agony for him, but it was for the best. She deserved better than to develop affections for a man who had nothing before him but an explosive death. Maybe he could subtly point her in the direction of Wyll – the warlock, despite his devilish appearance, was a good man. He was certainly a better man than the wizard who had tried to advance himself beyond mortal limitations to impress a goddess – and even with Wyll’s pact to a devil, he had a hope for a future beyond a destructive death alone. And he was younger, and handsome, and full of life and vigour, and could crack a joke to make even Devi groan while she was laughing…

Gods, this was already breaking Gale's heart.

But Devi would be happy with Wyll. Or maybe Shadowheart, if Wyll didn’t strike her fancy – the two half-Elves seemed to have a close connection already. Even if Shadowheart was a Sharran, Devi didn't seem to think less of her for it. Or Karlach, as boisterous and friendly as she was, would be a good match for the feisty little thief.

None of them were a depressed middle-aged wizard who had already exceeded his potential and his usefulness to Faerûn.

Gale sighed yet again and started to roll away from Devi onto his side, trying to get some sleep. In the morning he would talk to Devi, and see if the thief would be receptive to the idea of spending her nights apart from him. Certainly, she would be upset at first – Gale fully expected to get slapped. But she had to see the logic eventually, right? She was more than smart enough, even if she was uneducated –

At his side, Devi softly moaned in protest of his movements. Her hand reached up, grabbing his shirt and pulling him down on his back again. Before Gale could do anything, the little half-Elf wrapped her arm around his stomach and settled her head on his chest, squirming until she was comfortable. Once she was satisfied with her human pillow, she sighed and draped her leg over his before she fell fully back to sleep, peacefully lost in her dreams.

Shit. This was not doing a damn thing to help Gale reconcile himself to letting go of her. She felt so damn good beside him, warm and snuggly, tucked under his arm where she belonged. How in the Nine Hells was he supposed to separate himself from her when she did things like this to him? His heart twisted in his chest at how serenely innocent she looked. She trusted him enough to sleep with him, even with the orb in his chest that could kill them all in an instant. Hells, she was sleeping on him now, only inches from the ugly markings he bore!

And she didn't seem to be bothered by that in the slightest.

“Why do you do this to me?” Gale whispered to the woman at his side. Giving up, he wrapped his arm around her, holding her closer to him. Was it his imagination, or did a little smile flicker over her lips as she felt him embrace her? He inwardly groaned – there was no way he could force himself to let go of her, or make her let go of him, when she so effortlessly held his heart in her hands. He was dooming her, every night that he slept with her, every time he read a book for her, every time he gave her a kind word or a smile or a gentle touch.

She would never let go of him in the way she needed to, in order to save herself from him and his grim fate. And Gale knew she would only call him a “self-destructive hopeless idiot”, or something similar, and cling tighter to him if he tried to talk to her about this and make her see sense.

Was she wrong, though?

Frustrated, Gale closed his eyes again and tried to will himself to sleep. Perhaps in the morning, he could think of a way to gently turn Devi from him and to a partner who actually had a future. It would break his heart, but it was better than dragging her down with him.

But maybe he could allow himself one more night of holding Devi against his heart and wishing he could safely confess his love for her. He sighed, forcing himself to resist the urge to kiss her hair, or her forehead, or those perfect lips. If he started kissing her even innocently right now, he knew he wouldn't be able to stop, not until the orb ended him. But gods, he wished he could… He could have died happy while kissing her, but it wasn't worth the risk he posed to everyone else in a ten-mile radius. Nobody else deserved to die while he indulged himself in kissing the woman he wanted – especially not the woman in question.

He sighed, shifting as much as he dared until he was comfortable under Devi. His other hand came up to slowly card his fingers through her loose hair, a soothing motion that made her contentedly hum in her sleep. Dammit, Devi, he thought, you make it too easy for me to love you.

That thought made him blink his eyes open again. Was this…? He thought for a moment, then sighed. Yes – this was love he felt for the woman in his arms. This was adoration, and devotion, and more than a bit of strongly-denied lust. He wanted her in every way possible – emotionally, and in spirit, and yes, physically too.

But he wanted her safe and happy, even more than he wanted her with him. If you really love her, then you have to let her go, he tried to tell himself. Doesn't she deserve better than to be with you? Wyll would make her happy.

But what if she doesn't want Wyll? What if–

He firmly shut down the little voice in his mind before it could make the suggestion that maybe the woman in his arms wanted him. Nobody with any sense would want the older, broken, damned man that he was.

Then again, just that day, Astarion had been very enthusiastic in telling Devi that she had no sense, or self-preservation instincts, whatsoever…

Shut up. He scowled, then tugged the blankets up a little higher over himself and Devi. Just go to sleep. With any luck, Devi will see the truth herself without any prodding. And if she doesn't… it will hurt, but it will save her in the long term to break from her.

He sighed, then settled in to sleep, savouring what he was determined would be his last night holding the woman he loved.

—

Only a couple of hours later, Gale awoke to the sound of a whimper. He opened his eyes, frowning into the darkness of his tent until he heard a stifled sob from the half-Elf in his arms. He mumbled the incantation for a light cantrip, looking at Devi with anxiety spiking in his chest.

She didn't appear to be hurt. But her brow was furrowed as if she was in pain, and she was shaking. “Stop…” she whispered, flinching from something only she could see. “Please…”

Worried, Gale gently shook her shoulder. “Devi,” he lowly said, softly calling her name. “You're dreaming. You need to wake up.”

Devi didn't seem to hear him. She flinched again as though she'd been struck. “No,” she begged whoever was tormenting her. “You're hurting me!”

Gale shook her again, fear making the motion a little harder. “Devi,” he spoke her name again, a little louder. “Wake up, darling. I have you – you're safe. Wake up.”

His words didn't seem to be getting through. Devi whimpered again, her fingers tightening in Gale's shirt. “Please… help me… stop!” Her next words made Gale's heart twist in his chest. “No! Not Gale! Please!”

“Shhhh.” Gale shook her again and pressed his lips to her hair. “It's all right, darling. You're safe. Wake up now.” He lowered his lips to her ear as she whimpered again. “Wake up, Devi. You're safe… you're safe. I promise. Wake up. Wake up!”

Devi's twitching and flinching finally slowed, then stopped as Gale kept kissing her hair and whispering soothing reassurances to her. He finally felt her clutch his shirt a little tighter as she turned her head up to him. “Gale?” she whispered, her voice tiny and broken.

“I'm here,” Gale murmured, relief washing through his veins. “I have you. You're safe – it was just a dream, dear one. You're perfectly safe.”

“Oh, gods.” Still shaking, Devi buried her face in the crook of Gale's neck, clinging to him. “You were… you were…”

“Shhh,” Gale whispered. “I'm here.” He took her hand, guiding it to rest over his beating heart so she could feel his pulse. “I’m here. You’re all right – and so am I. Just breathe.” He heard a little sob from the woman he was holding, and felt his heart break for her. “Shhh. Breathe with me, Devi. Can you feel me breathing?” He waited until she nodded into his neck. “That’s my girl. Breathe with me, darling.” He focused on taking slow, calming breaths to make his chest move enough for her to easily feel him. For the first few breaths, Devi couldn’t quite match his slow breathing – stifled sobs made her body jerk unevenly under his arm. But as the minutes passed, she seemed to find his rhythm with breathing, her inhales slowly coming to match his as she calmed down from her nightmare.

“Thank you,” she finally mumbled, slowly pulling her face out of his neck. There was a suspicious wetness on her cheeks that told Gale she’d been crying into his skin; indeed, he could feel her tears on him. “I’m sorry–”

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for,” Gale murmured, stroking his thumb over her cheekbone. He offered her a small, reassuring smile. “Would you like to talk about it?”

Devi started to shake her head, then hesitated, fidgeting with the hem of the blanket. “I… told you how my father’s a gods-damned bastard that not even the hells want?” she asked, her voice low and quiet.

Gale nodded. “You’ve told me he’s a terrible person and you plan on dancing on his grave when he dies,” he softly answered. “Or using his grave for a latrine. Perhaps both.”

Devi made a little sound that Gale thought was trying to be a laugh, a laugh mingled with a sob. “He deserves it. He and his friends, they…” She took a shaky breath, not looking at Gale’s face. “They were hurting me, and then they… they decided to hurt you when you appeared in the dream — I think you were trying to save me? But they… gods, the things they did…”

“Shhh.” Gale pulled Devi’s face back into the crook of his neck; she went to him willingly, clinging to him. “We’re both all right – there’s nothing to be afraid of in this tent.” Except the orb, and the tadpoles, and the threat of the Absolute, and the small-but-still-present risk that Mystra would simply spontaneously detonate the orb in Gale’s chest to kill him and everyone around him – Gale shook his head. “We’re safe here. Nobody can hurt you when I’m here to protect you.”

“They hurt you,” Devi mumbled. “They were hurting you, and they were going to kill you, and–”

“Shhh. It was just a bad dream, darling. I’m entirely unhurt, and so are you.” Gale hesitated for a moment, then chuckled. “And you can tell your subconscious that I don’t fear a thief and his henchmen. I might be outnumbered, but I would make them regret facing me before falling.”

Devi trembled again in his arms. “You couldn’t fight,” she whispered, quiet enough that Gale almost couldn’t hear her. “You… you were trying to save me. If you had fought them… they would have hurt me more.”

Apparently Devi’s subconscious knew Gale well enough to know that this was a truth about him. If that nightmare had been reality… Gale knew he would have stopped fighting the instant it became clear that his resistance would have endangered the woman he loved. “Shhh,” he murmured, stroking her hair. “It was just a dream. Your father can’t hurt either of us here.”

He felt Devi slowly nod, but she still clung to him, shaking like a leaf. He suspected that she was probably too scared to easily go back to sleep. With a grunt, he reached out for the book they had been reading earlier that evening – or rather, that he had been reading to her. Nudging the lights to where he could more easily see the pages, he opened the book back where they had left off. “Shall I try to get your mind back onto a more soothing subject?” he asked. At her hesitant nod, he kissed her hair again, then started quietly reading the next chapter. The halfling and dwarves had been caught by ogres, and were being argued over by said ogres who couldn’t decide how to cook them properly. It was one of Gale’s favourite scenes in the book, and Devi seemed to be entranced by the story normally. Indeed, she seemed to calm down as he read to her, shifting from having her face buried in his neck, to resting her cheek on his shoulder.

As Gale came to the end of the chapter, he looked down to see Devi’s eyes closed and her lips slightly parted again, her breathing soft and slow. He wasn’t sure when she had fallen asleep again, but he was grateful that she had found rest. Careful to not disturb her, he replaced the bookmark in the pages, then set the book back down and extinguished the lights over their heads. Devi grunted as he slowly rested on the pillow again, then snuggled up as closely as she could to him.

Gale sighed softly, running his hand over her hair soothingly. Apparently this was the gods’ way of foiling his plan to break apart from Devi before anything could begin with them. Who else was going to cuddle the little half-Elf after her nightmares? Who else would read to her to get her mind off her fear again? Try as Gale might, he couldn’t imagine Devi snuggling up so closely to Wyll, or Shadowheart, or Karlach, or any of their other friends in the party. For some reason, she had chosen Gale, doomed and damned as he was.

Guilt and hope surged in equal amounts in his heart – guilt because he was dragging Devi down with him, and hope because maybe he wasn’t quite as broken and useless as he believed himself to be. Maybe Devi saw something in him that he couldn’t see or acknowledge himself.

It would have been easier if she didn’t see anything in him, he thought.

He yawned and let himself cuddle Devi closely, doing his best to make sure she felt protected and safe in his arms. “No harm will come to you if I can help it,” he promised her in a whisper. “You are safe with me.” Closing his eyes, he rested his cheek on her hair and let himself fall back asleep, praying that Devi’s dreams for the rest of the night (and his, he supposed) would be peaceful.

If you dream of me again, dear one… dream of the happiness that I can’t give you in reality. Please don’t dream of either of us suffering for the other, he thought before sleep reclaimed him.

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thefrogdalorian · 3 months

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You Are Eternal

✯ Read on AO3 ✯ Word Count: 1423 Rating: Teen Summary: When devastating news that High Magistrate Karga has become one with the Force reaches Din in his cabin on Nevarro, he reflects on the complicated nature of their relationship. Din pays his own tribute to the man who witnessed firsthand his shift from bounty hunter to father. Content Warnings: Major character death. Grief, mourning... I wrote this to try and cope a little with the awful news and it's just.... really sad. Author's Note: I just had to get this out of me tonight. It was my way of coping I guess. I hope Greef lives on somehow in the show, I really do. But I think he was Din's first real friend and their arcs are so similar, it's so sad to think he won't be there anymore. Thank you for reading. RIP Carl, Mando will never be the same without you 💔

Din Djarin was, unfortunately, all-too accustomed to loss. The feeling of grief was not alien to him. Ever since that terrible day on Aq Vetina, when he had lost everything and everyone that he had ever loved, the fear of losing others seemed to loom large over his life, a constant uneasiness that had long clouded his interactions with others. That was, until he had been sent to Arvala-7 and encountered The Child, who he would eventually adopt as his own. It was a chain of events that would not have been possible were it not for the very man whose loss had struck him harder than any blow he had sustained in the profession that had once united them.

Despite how many times Din had undergone the mourning process throughout his life, he found that the news of one of his oldest acquaintances’ passing had hit him particularly hard. The rapping at the door, well after the sun had set on another bright and sunny Nevarrian day, took Din by surprise. But nothing could have prepared him for the message that had promptly been relayed to him. News that had been delivered by a copper-plated droid, of all things.

When he opened the door to his cabin on Nevaro, the last thing Din expected to hear was news that the High Magistrate had become one with the Force.

In those first few horrible moments after hearing such devastating news, Din found that the sensation resembled a punch to the area just underneath the shiny beskar plate that protected most of his chest and abdomen. Although Din was an extremely skilled fighter, he had occasionally been delivered such agonising blows in that incredibly vulnerable place. Now, Din was reminded of such agony as he processed the news.

Din’s relationship to Greef Karga had undoubtedly been complicated and at times, volatile. A former adversary, to an acquaintance, to possibly something even more… like a friend. Din Djarin did not typically have friends. But as he sat there in his cabin, processing the news after dismissing the droid and removing his helmet, he began to wonder whether, perhaps, he had had one… without even truly realising it.

A friend that had passed to the afterlife, before Din had the opportunity to comprehend how much Greef had truly meant to him.

Of course, there had been Paz. But Din was bound to Paz by Creed, as a fellow Mandalorian. There were no inherent bonds such as that with Greef. Instead, the former leader of the Bounty Hunters’ Guild on Nevarro had become increasingly close to Din. Greef had gradually become a trustworthy presence in an often cruel and treacherous galaxy.

Perhaps it was the shared trauma of the siege in the cantina, when Din and Greef had barely escaped with their lives, which had been the catalyst for their increasing closeness. Until then, Din had wondered whether he could fully trust the older man. After that, though, there was no doubt. Greef Karga was, at the very least, an ally.

All Din knew with any degree of certainty was that as soon as the Razor Crest needed repairs, when Din and Frog Lady had barely escaped with their lives on the frozen planet of Maldo Kreis, it was the coordinates for Nevarro that he had punched in. After being rendered an apostate for removing his helmet and violating the Creed, it was once again Nevarro that Din had journeyed to in order to secure a droid for his expedition to the Mines of Mandalore. On that very visit, when Grogu had been in danger thanks to the rogue IG unit, Din had not hesitated to thrust his son into the arms of Greef Karga, knowing that he would protect the little boy.

Back then, Din could never have foreseen himself settling on Nevarro. He had been so consumed with his quest for redemption that he had promptly rejected Greef’s offer for a tract of land by the lava flats. Yet after retaking Mandalore and adopting Grogu, the land had suddenly become an extremely attractive proposal. The little parcel of land had become the perfect place for Clan Mudhorn to rest between jobs for the New Republic. Din was eternally grateful for Greef’s offer.

It was true that Greef had done much for Din during the time that they had known each other, but it was equally true that when Nevarro had been under threat from the pirates headed by Gorian Shard, Din had not hesitated to raise a band of Mandalorians to follow him. There were few people in the galaxy that Din would have gone to such lengths for, but Greef Karga was undoubtedly one of them.

Not to mention the repurposed IG unit that Greef had given to Din, for Grogu to operate, despite Din's reservations. Although it had initially annoyed Din (and the stall holders of Nevarro) as it had given Grogu a way to verbalise his insolence and feed his insatiable appetite, it had been an invaluable aid during the retaking of Mandalore. An aid that would not have been there were it not for Greef. Both Din and Greef owed an enormous debt to each other.

The realisation of what a key figure Greef had been in Din Djarin’s recent history almost sent him tumbling to his knees. That Greef was the man who had perhaps witnessed more closely than any other the shift in Din from a lonely, selfish, bounty hunter with a strict adherence to the Creed, to a man who would do anything to ensure the safety of The Child, even if it meant violating the Way. That Greef was gone.

For a second, Din wanted to run from the cabin, screaming and sobbing, pleading that this could not possibly be true. That Greef would never realise how much he truly meant to Din. But he quickly came to his senses and soon sought solace elsewhere.

Din crept down the hall towards his son’s room, ensuring that in spite of his emotional state, he was as quiet as possible so Grogu was not awakened. He just wanted to be close to him, to feel his presence nearby, a comforting closeness to the special little boy who had changed everything for him. Din was relieved that Grogu was sleeping soundly, his shallow, even breaths continued even as his distraught father stood in the doorway.

Din feared how much the news would devastate the little boy who was currently sleeping soundly in his crib. Despite how much Din ached to hold him close as comfort for himself, he didn’t have the heart to wake Grogu. Although Din supposed, given the way that Grogu seemed to understand the galaxy around him, that perhaps somehow his son had already sensed the enormous loss of such a monumental presence. A loss that would surely leave a void incapable of being filled in all of their lives. Every sunset on Nevarro, a sight that had once left Din awestruck with its beauty and the vibrance of its colours, would surely seem a little darker from now on.

Din turned his back and left Grogu's room then, fearing that if he stood there for much longer, the tears that had begun to silently creep down his cheeks would develop into a more audible indication of his grief that would wake Grogu. Plus, Din had remembered a certain cupboard in the kitchen, the contents of which would provide a fitting tribute to the High Magistrate.

He had hoped that one day, he might invite Greef to the cabin for the advised smaller gathering to share this luxurious libation with him. Perhaps even face-to-face, without his helmet, such was the increasing number of ways that Din had discovered there were to walk; ways to be Mandalorian.

That would never happen now, Din realised with a pang of sadness as he stepped out onto the porch and into the moonless Nevarrian night. He placed two glasses onto the table by the bench and slowly poured the amber liquid.

Then Din sat back on the bench, and raised a glass of the Coruscant wine to the stars, in a toast to his old friend. He spoke the sacred words of the ancient language of their people, a daily remembrance that he would now carry out for the man who, despite everything, had become his friend.

“Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum. Greef Karga.”

(I’m still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal.)

#my fics #din djarin #greef karga #the mandalorian #din djarin fanfic #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction #i really had to get this out of me ugh love when writing makes you cry onto your keyboard!!!!

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polaroidcats · 7 months

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Ugly crying & the marauders generation - a pseudo-scientific approach (my marauders crying PhD abstract)

Abstract

In recent days, there have been a variety of claims as to who the prettiest and ugliest crier in the marauders generation could be. This paper aims to address the recent surge in opinions on the matter, and categorize different approaches as well as add a new approach to the scientific examination of ugliness/prettiness when it comes to crying. I hope to provide readers with an overview of the current state of research and encourage all marauders scholars to add their own and I intend to make a contribution to the discourse by committing to the bit and writing a pseudo-academic paper about it instead of actually working on my thesis.

Introduction

In the following paper, the discourse about 5 marauders era characters will be examined in regards to their various levels of perceived ugliness whilst crying. Scholars who may ask why Peter [Pettigrew] is not included in this analysis are advised to refer to acclaimed marauders ugly crying scholar @lynxindisguise's (2023) original poll on the popular blogging website "tumblr.com" which did not include Peter, but rather two non-marauders characters named Lily and Regulus. This paper will follow that approach, since Peter is the nastiest skank bitch I have ever met, I do not trust him and he is a fugly slut. The characters included in this approach are as follows: James Potter, Lily Evans, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Regulus Black.

Following the scientific criteria for ugly crying, as stated by lynxindisguise et. al (2023), the question of the ugliest crier can be answered by observing the crying person and assessing their ugly-levels on the following parameters: (1) unbecoming facial expressions, (2) facial swelling/blotching, (3) unsettling noises, (4) snot factor, (5) tear volume, (6) general loss of dignity, (7) glistening eyes/lashes, (8) Victorian heroine factor, (9) elegant tear-wiping, (10) post-cry glow (ibid).

Criteria (1)-(6) can be categorized as the ugly crying parameters whereas (7)-(10) are pretty crying parameters, creating a false binary between ugly and pretty crying, which may be problematised and addressed in another the paper. In contrast to lynxindisguise’s original 10 criteria to measure the aesthetics of crying, this paper proposes to add (11) explosiveness of cry as another ugly crying parameter, in order to get a more clear assessment of where on the ugly-pretty crying scale a character falls.

The ugly crying parameters

(1) Unbecoming facial expressions

James Potter is mentioned in this category by several marauders scholars: @jaylienpotter talks about his red face and ugly sobbing, @artbyace mentions his “scrunched up cry face” and @sectoren claimes “james (…) is that one handsome guy that when the waterworks get going becomes like. Cartoonishly ugly”, raising the question of upkeeping toxic masculinity in order to avoid having to witness more of James Potter’s crying “mug”.

Though James Potter features heavily in this category, another character who is also mentioned just as often is Remus Lupin: @kaaaaaaarf, @appreciatedmoron and @http-starboy all emphasise that Remus Lupin is the one with a red and blotchy face.

(2) facial swelling/blotching

While there is a definitive overlap between the categories of facial swelling/blotching, unbecoming facial expressions and snot factor, Sirius’ and Regulus’ victorian heroine complexions, which give them an advantage in the homonymous category, may be to their disadvantage in the “blotching” category. This will require further research by other scholars.

(3) unsettling noises

James Potter is mentioned in this category by Jaylienpotter (2023), claiming he not only hiccups when crying but also that “his cries are one of the most heartbreaking things you’ll ever hear” and similarly, artbyace states that “James loves and feels so loudly”, whereas “Sirius is silent”, both sentiments are reminiscent of znelda’s (2023) statements that James “was allowed to feel his emotions freely in a loving household” and “Sirius (…) [is] used to hide [his] feelings and [has] become stoic”.

With several other scholars, among them also @jamesunderwater (2023) raising the point that James may be the ugliest crier due to him being “the only one well adjusted enough to have access to his feelings” this raises the question of possibly introducing another category, maybe of emotional awareness/stability to be able to measure this parameter more efficiently, though emotional vulnerability may also just be a part of the unsettling noises parameter, suggesting that there is a correlation between noisiness and the existing environment being welcoming to and accepting of various expressions of emotions.

(4) snot factor

The most popular winner in the snot factor category seems to be Remus Lupin, with several scholars agreeing that his sobs are the dampest and snottiest out of all the candidates. kaaaaaaarf (2023) writes “he turnes all red and blochty and snot drips out of his nose (…) he cant (sic) not cry with his mouth open as well so there is a lot of spit”, and appreciatedmoron (2023) agrees with kaaaaaaarf on this.

It only seems right to me to include spit in the snot category as well, seeing as they’re both crying-related bodily fluids that add to the ugly-cry factor. http-starboy (2023) also mentions snot in regards to Remus Lupin, which compared to both their comments in (1) opens up the question of how unbecoming facial expressions, more particularly redness of the face and snot factor may be related, as several authors seem to write about both specifically in relation to each other. Whether this is just pure coincidence or not would need further research, for which we currently do not have enough funding. This is only one of the many research gaps in the relatively new field of marauder’s ugly crying studies, which cannot fully be addressed in this paper.

James Potter is also mentioned in the snot category, namely by the marauders scholar artbyace (2023).

(5) tear volume

Artbyace (2023) claims James Potter is “full on bawling” which can only be assumed to refer to tear volume, but the most convincing argument for tear volume comes from the acclaimed marauders scholar @fruityindividual (2023), stating that “tsunami warning tones go off in sirius’ brain anytime remus is close 2 (sic) tears” which already indicates high levels of tear volumes. The author then goes on to specify the volume by claiming that “indeed the ocean wishes rj lupin would jump in and help contribute 2 (sic) rising sea levels”, further emphasizing the volume of Remus's tears.

(6) general loss of dignity

@pastaplatypus (2023) writes about James Potter not being able to do a Melodramatic Bollywood Cry, which is perceived as inherently racist by the crier.

I would like to argue that Sirius Black also deserves to be mentioned in this category. While as of today, with less than 1 hour left to vote, 15.5% of voters agree that Sirius is the ugliest crier, the more outspoken voices all argue for different ugly criers. Due to their upbringing, I am tempted to name both Black brothers in the “loss of dignity” category and look forward to reading future contributions to this discussion.

The pretty crying parameters

(7) glistening eyes/lashes

Undoubtedly Sirius Black deserves to be mentioned in this category. I believe his dark lashes and glimmering eyes are part of what makes him the prettiest crier. Whereas Remus’s eyes also sometimes glisten or appear red, and it is usually attributed to be caused by drug consumption, which more often than not is a wrong assumption, but he happily goes along with the pretense of being a weed-smoking bad boy in order to hide his ugly crying damp tendencies.

(8) Victorian heroine factor

It almost seems superfluous to even mention Sirius (and, to a lesser degree, Regulus) Black in this category. This category was made for Sirius, as is apparent when reading lynxindisguises (2023) description of the victorian heroine factor, in response to a question by the scholar @plecotusauritus:

“the Victorian Heroine Factor is a deeply scientific assessment of the Vibes. Is this person giving tragically beautiful, windswept Victorian Heroine, sobbing gently into their hands while sprawled across a boulder or a well or a fountain of some sort? When they look up at you, do their tear-plumped lips part elegantly as a single tear slides down their cheek?”

(9) elegant tear-wiping

There hasn't been a lot of research in this area, but I would like to propose handkerchiefs with embroidered initials and family crests as another potential factor in favor of the Black brothers scoring high marks in this category as well as the Victorian heroine factor.

(10) post-cry glow

Artbyace (2023) claims “lily is always beautiful (…) even when crying”, which is echoed by znelda’s (2023) earlier claim that “Lily (…) [is] a woman and no woman is ugly when crying.”

Sirius is the other popular choice by marauders scholars for this category, with @in-flvx (2023) stating that he “handsomely handsomes while dying after 12 years of torture hell and another year in shackles”, which would mean that “a few tears would[n’t] stop him from being the hottest person in the room at all times” (ibid).

Additional parameters

I am suggesting to introduce an additional metric in order to further specify and better assess the ugly-crying levels:

(11) explosiveness of cry

@felixantares (2023) introduces the idea that Remus “is the type that very few people have been seen cry because he ignores every difficult emotion hes (sic) ever had (…) and it all explodes at once and its horrible to watch when he breaks down”, a sentiment shared by several of the other authors mentioned above in various other categories.

Further opinions & conclusions

The most popular consensus seems to be that Sirius cannot be the ugliest crier, sometimes also in direct comparison to his brother: @spindrifters (2023) answers the question of the ugliest crier with “obviously it’s regulus”, elaborating that “at least [it’s] definitely not sirius bc (sic) reg is canonically less handsome in all ways” which brings up the question if regular beauty plays into ugly crying. This is contrasted by lynxindisguises argument, that Sirius may be an ugly crier because he’s so gorgeous, and his ugly crying subverts the expectations of beauty:

“the most beautiful man alive looks hideous while crying, and his deeply awkward and perpetually damp bf (sic) is literally in his element while crying – dampness becomes him, you might say.”

This statement raises yet another question – does regular crying make the crier more or less ugly? Can an ugly crier become a pretty crier by practice or are we all born either ugly or pretty criers, condemned to this fate for life?

While this paper has given an overview of the current state of research to ugly crying/pretty crying, it has also raised many more questions. Other topics which may be addressed in future papers also include the philosophical question whether ugly crying is in the eye of the beholder and if it is possible to ugly cry without being perceived, and if it is possible to ugly cry if the person perceiving you doesn’t find it ugly. Since the research field of ugly crying is a relatively new one, we can only hope to read many more opinions on these and other topics in the future, and I look forward to reading different scholar’s approaches to these highly relevant topics.

#marauders #idek what to tag this as lol #i don't write fic i only write pseudo scientific papers on fandom analysis (apparently) lol i had so much fun writing this #even if just 1 person reads it i'll be happy i know it's ridiculous #scientific analysis of ugly crying #akso i tried to tag everyone i mentioned to make it feel more like i'm actually quoting them (which i am) but if anyone doesn't want to be #tagged in this lmk and i'll remove it haha #anyways okay i'll post it now #this is what happens when i go on tumblr during work hours and then keep thinking about how much more fun editing papers would be if they #were about the marauders instead of the things i have to read/edit at work #hp #remus lupin #sirius black #james potter #lily evans #regulus black #(this thing has almost 2k words and i wrote it in 2-3hours)#idek what that says about me #that this is how i chose to spend my tuesday evening #but i love it

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