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himbodjarin · 3 years

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LUNAR; CH8

18+ ONLY Series Content: Graphic descriptions of gore and smut. Din Djarin/Third Person POV. Chapter Word Count: 8263 (im sorry) Pairing: Din Djarin/F!Reader - no use “y/n”

The Mandalorian is a driven warrior — traversing the galaxy in search of the ancient Jedi — but everyone has their weaknesses, and he’s no different. The Bounty Hunter possessed three in fact. One he’s discovered—The Child. The remaining two, though, he wasn’t aware of their existence. At least, not until he meets a valorous Sharpshooter underneath a moonless night sky; then he’s plummeting down a dark mission of self-discovery, questioning his morals and his Creed while the moon taunts him, the phases of the satellite corresponding to his personal revelations. However, the Girl has a dark past that may come to inflict hardships on the Mandalorian and the Child; it's up to the Bounty Hunter to decide her fate.

Read on AO3 / Series Masterlist

CHAPTER EIGHT: BLUE MILK PANCAKES

Mando still can’t grasp it actually happened—that he’d been so fortunate to experience such a jaw-dropping night with the Girl, with no ulterior motives no less. Back in his youth, when he was naive and desperate, it wasn’t exactly infrequent for a fling to take advantage of him; spend a quick few minutes so that one may eliminate him in his distraction or gain intel on private matters. The Girl didn’t try that—didn’t want that. She sought to provide him with sweet relief and nothing more, not even her own relief.

He felt so fucking worshipped.

Mando is the first of them to wake in the early rise of the sun. He sits there for a moment, savouring the gleaming rays shining through the viewport to warm his beskar and, consequently, his rigid body underneath. The Crest is coated in a layer of ice, corroding the durasteel beneath and, accompanied by the packed snow resting atop, it’s refrigerating the inside of the spacecraft. Mando slips on the discarded glove from overnight—a warmth surfacing his cheeks upon the reminder of last night’s events—and supplies friction to either hand in the prospect it’ll produce warmth. It’s wishful thinking.

Granting him the opportunity to adjust to his surroundings, Mando stretches in his chair and virtually moans at the pulsations ranging through his limbs. It starts at his shoulders and travels through his core, nudging against the wound on his back and easing the tension out of his muscles, and reaches to the bottom of his toes which practically curl with delight.

Mando considers removing the helmet to rub his eyes—the crust in the corners a botheration—lift it a tad in the least, but he doesn’t get the chance. The Child coos beside him, his little arms reaching up for assistance.

“How did you get up here?” he asks, placing him on his knees. The Child doesn’t answer—why would he—and concentrates on balancing across the joints to tinker with deactivated buttons of the nav controls. “Where to, kid?” Mando scans the system’s database for a paragon planet to hunker down for a few days; spend some time with the kid—and the Girl, of course—before being ripped away from the semi-domestic life and continue on his unwritten path of planet-hopping.

There’s a planet not too far; small population, plenty of wilderness for the kid to explore, and there’s not much traffic that passes through. It’s good, perfect almost, and Mando is hesitant to accept the temptation. The Child’s head rotates to look at his guardian, his large green ears twitching curiously. He sighs and sets the coordinates for the planet despite his better judgement. It’s too fortunate; the last ‘safe’ planet they visited ended up in him protecting an entire village and the kid almost being killed. Although, he’s made a trustworthy ally who’ll assist if something were to go down. He glances behind him at the Girl, raking his brown eyes across her contorted body in the seat.

“Hang on, kid.” Mando lifts himself out of the pilot chair, leaving behind a monitoring toddler in his place, and kneels beside the Girl in the passengers. She’s sleeping peacefully and he doesn’t disturb her, despite the positioning she’s managed to get herself into. It’s unpleasant on his eyes and it couldn’t be comfortable. With a tremble in his back muscles, he reaches behind his neck and peels the cloak from his armour to drape it across her figure, relying on it to provide at least a small portion of warmth to her. She clasps the garment slightly and a smile surfaces his lips, his leathers coming up to brush a stroke across her cheek faintly—only lasting a second or two before detaching from her like an uncooperative magnet. Once she’s finally soothed back into position, Mando retrieves the safety belt from beside her and secures it across her waist before grudgingly tearing away from the Girl. “Looks like you’re with me.”

The Child squeals with enjoyment as the Mandalorian returns to his seat.

“Shh,” he instructs, glancing back to see the Girl motionless. He sighs with relief.

Mando joins the buckle’s latches together and wraps an arm around the Child to secure him against himself. The thrusters wake with a roar and quake the craft’s hull, the ion accelerator chamber thawing the thrusters nozzles of their icy barricade—shit, the ice. It’ll pose a threat, a handicap at the minimum if it doesn’t defrost soon enough. He cringes as the Crest whines against the glacier's dominance on his landing gear, but with the newly-maintenance thrusters, it’s no match against the craft. It rips from the ice and retracts to the hull’s underbelly, allowing Mando to manipulate the ship through the sky and out of the atmosphere; slabs of ice and snow descend to the ground beneath them.

The feeble bumpiness fades into a smooth flight and Mando activates the autopilot controls. “Not so bad, huh?” He disconnects the buckle from his belt and slips out of the chair, letting the Child sit in the warm leather. “Don’t go touching things—and don’t wake her up,” he quickly adds, noting the Child’s inquisitive staring as though he hadn’t genuinely noticed her earlier.

Mando sighs and hopes he’ll listen to his request just this once.

The Crest’s hold had been cleaned, just as the Girl promised to do, hardly even a speck of dust surfaced the floor. She’d been busy—and he had just been preoccupied with himself. Mando sighs to himself and browses through his reserved clothing. It mostly consists of bunking apparel—a couple of loose shirts and favourable pants—that he hadn’t had the opportunity to put to use since he fostered the Child. He’s expected—required to remain on the defensive at all times with the Guild breathing down his neck.

He sorts through the articles and grabs the spare flight suit, his only other. It would be ideal to purchase another, especially now with this one having been ripped, but it wasn’t a necessity presently. The fabric in his hands smells of dirt and grime, residue from the lake he attempted to clean it in all those weeks ago, but it’s better than his current—tattered, bloody, sweaty, and cum-stained. What a combination.

Perhaps he should invest in a refresher for his Crest. That way he wouldn’t be hunched over in the dark corners of the hold, stripping the beskar steel from his body for anybody to stumble across. It didn’t provide much assurance being within eyeshot of the cockpit ladder and with the lack of places to conceal himself, his hurried movements advanced. Then again the sheer thought of the Girl seeing him like this—and joining him—isn’t unpleasant; it would make the situation a whole lot less embarrassing.

He peels the last of his beskar from his body and stacks it against the wall, reorienting himself to slip out of his boots. It’s been a while since he last stood without any armour, excluding the helmet, and it feels refreshing in a way. But it doesn’t feel right.

Mando wasted no time in replacing the flight suit, smoothing the fabric out with his gloves and reapplying the ensemble of beskar; each patch of steel fitting snugly where it belongs. It’s slightly more bearable, not having to feel his own mess rubbing against him on the inside of the fabric, and he shoves the dirty flight suit in replace of the clean. He’ll get around to washing it when he has the time—or burn it by virtue of the rip across the arm.

Speaking of arms, the bacta patch on his bicep had aided the wound significantly and within the next day or two, it should be healed. The lesion on his back was a different story. It’s still sore, somewhat better with a night’s rest, but it’ll be a while before he’s out there firing blasters with that same authority. It could cause jeopardy if he’s not cautious.

The Razor Crest abruptly rumbles and falls into a fit of tremors, hurling the Mandalorian against the stationary carbonite pods with fury. “Shit,” he growls and grips his bicep, pleading he won’t bleed through the fresh clothes so soon. It pulses again and the engines’ whining travels through the ventilation, discharging a high-pitched shriek followed by a low hum of a whistle.

“Man-fuck, Mando!” the Girl beckons from upstairs. Mando is quick on his feet up the ladder, clinging desperately to the rungs upon another spasm. “I was sleeping a-and the kid…” She doesn’t need to finish for him to understand, for the Child is sitting underneath the nav panel with colourful cords in his hands; wire coverings peeled away to expose the electricity hazards sparking in his fists.

“Kid, no!” Mando scolds and snatches the cables from his stubborn claws. He babbles a complaint to his guardian as he’s being relocated far away from the electricity. He’s completely dismantled it—Mando will need to implement an entirely new wiring system for the navigation controls alone; a job he’s not suited for. He turns to the Girl for support.

“Don’t look at me,” she raises her hands defensively, “I only know bits and pieces.”

Innocently burbling besides the Mandalorian, the Child watches as leather gloves track across the navigation controls urgently. He’s unbothered by the predicament they’re in—just glad that his guardian had returned to the cockpit’s cabin, it appears. Mando groans in annoyance, fumbling with the nav and fighting against it’s constant glitching. “We’re in luck. There’s a planet on the way. Tatooine. Someone can help us there.”

“Yeah. Heard of it,” she mutters, regrettably, and he wonders what that is all about but it can wait. It wasn’t the time to sweat over the small details. “We’re not going to crash, are we?”

He contemplates, glancing over the system’s diagnosis and dismisses the electrical yammering it erupts. “Shouldn't—there’ll just be a lot of turbulence.”

That there is—turbulence and a great deal of it. There’s too much to maintain an uncoiled stomach throughout the remainder of the short flight and they’re both surprised when they’re successful in their landing, especially without the contents of their stomach having been dumped over themselves. Peli Motto—an innovative mechanic but a bit too communicatory for the Mandalorian’s preference—stands in her hangar with two greasy hands on her hips, eyes squinting through the viewport to gaze up at Mando. Better have my credits ready to go this time, he can already hear her say and he sighs. Credits he did have, but they weren’t exactly his, and there wasn’t much to spare.

“I’ll see to her,” Mando announces and retrieves the Child, “would you care to join?”

The Girl seems hesitant and peers out the viewport curiously. “Do you trust her?”

Mando takes another glance outside. Peli’s droids are nearing his ship to begin operations but with one stern look from the woman, they back away from the craft. “I do.”

The Girl sighs and peels herself from her seat, fiddling with the cloak that had been laid across her body earlier. “This, uh-”

“Clip it on for me,” he instructs and turns, waiting for familiar hands to run across his shoulders. It takes a moment and he considers retrieving it himself, but he’s patient and it pays off—her fingers playing with the neck covering to manipulate the cloak into place, her digits stroking against the back of his neck underneath all the thick fabric. It’s therapeutic somehow or other. He doesn’t quite understand it himself, but feeling the Girl’s pressure against him relaxes him; eases his eyes closed until all he wants to do is sleep, in her arms preferably and with his head on her chest—his head, not his helmet. Mando wants to press his ear against her flesh and listen to her heartbeat, her breathing, but most of all he just wants to be touched and to touch another.

The Girl smoothes her hands out across the cloak, running her palm down his back and ending just before it reaches the curve at the bottom. “There you go.” She smiles. Fuck, her smile. It makes him want to say something stupid, something embarrassing just to get the same reaction out of her; he wants to be the cause of that smile on her face. She adds, “Thank you.”

Mando twists to face her again, his head tilting. “What for?”

“Buckling me up and, uh, giving me the cloak,” she confesses, a timid hue of pink on her cheeks—she was blushing. “You could have given it to the kid or just kept it yourself, but… you didn’t. So, thank you.”

He swallows and reaches his hand up—for what, he doesn’t know. It’s not until his digits touch the soft padding of her cheek that he notices he’s making a move, his strokes transforming into uncertain shakes. The Girl’s blush deepens at the contact and she places her hand atop his, giving a quick squeeze of reassurance.

With that, his head is back to sorting through indecent thoughts and actions—but none are related to those they had been previously; they’re not obscene nor lustful. It’s his Creed that they’re unethical towards. He imagines the Girl reaching for his helmet, her slender fingers brushing against his chin as she does so, and lifts the steel to unmask the face that’s been sealed away for a long, long time. If she tried to do it right here, right now, he’s not positive whether he would stop her.

“We shouldn’t keep her waiting, it’ll be rude.”

She can wait, is what he wants to say, instead, he murmurs a simple, “Right.”

The Child appears satisfied in Peli’s arms, a large smile on his face as he glares up at the Mandalorian ahead of him. He’s receiving every ounce of attention he can muster out of the woman. “You telling me this little one did all that? Maybe if you gave him a little more attention he wouldn’t be tearing out your cables!”

“What do you mean?” Mando ponders. She runs a finger across the kid’s batwing ears and gestures behind him in the distance where the Girl preoccupies herself tending to their blasters. “What are you getting at?”

“Oh, come on! Do I have to spell it out for you? Are you that oblivious?” She sighs and soothes the Child, “You’ve found yourself another lifeform to harbour—probably spending an awful lot of time with her, aren’t ya?”

He’s not oblivious, not in the slightest; he’s just trying to avoid coming to terms with the thoughts in his head. However, he hadn’t noticed his lack of bonding with the Child and he mentally scolds himself. Of course, the kid wants attention, all kids do, and he’s probably becoming rather frustrated at the inadvertent neglect as a by-product of Mando’s fantasies.

“I ain’t saying ya shouldn’t indulge a little,” Peli chuckles and wags her hairless eyebrows at the visor, “I don’t blame ya for that. It must be hard adapting to having a girl like that on board your ship.”

Mando quietly sighs under his helmet but a blush lines his cheeks nonetheless. He’s relieved she can’t see it. He grumbles, “Get to the point.”

“Point is, you can’t ignore a child like that,” she explains, “he’s an impish little critter—smart, too. It wouldn’t surprise me if he did that on purpose to get your attention.”

“He’s costing me a lot of credits for attention.” Black-brown eyes observe the looming figure of beskar and Mando softens slightly. Peli watches with interest and returns the toddler to his arms. “The Girl-”

“She’ll be fine,” she assures, “if she wants to help, I’ll be sure to give her a real workout—don’t worry she won’t be too drained.”

The Mandalorian commits a final leer at the mechanic, enough to cause her to pull her lips tight into a smirk, and he returns to the Girl’s side to exchange his goodbyes, “I’m going to head into town and see if there are any jobs available.”

The Girl raises an eyebrow in question and pauses polishing the blasters, “I’m not coming with you?”

Does she want to come with him? The vocoder emits a hum of thought but ultimately he knows she should stay behind this time, “Peli reckons I should spend time with the kid. Shouldn’t take too long—I’ll just head in and grab the kid a meal, look around for intel… I’ll be back before it’s dark.”

She nods, understanding. “I’ll—just wait here then.”

Mando reciprocates her nod and hesitantly steps back, but the Girl’s fingers loop through his belt and draws him in close to her once again. He steadies himself with a hand on the dip of her waist, digits unconsciously poking into the flesh deeper, and he angles the helmet to her eye level in disarray.

The familiar weight of his blaster slips into position against his thigh but he doesn’t tear his eyes away to look, he doesn’t want to move at all. “Might need it,” she explains, her tone hushed, “it’s good to go.” She lightly taps the blaster with her free hand and he stiffens when her palm comes to rest atop it, the tips of her fingers brushing against the outside of his thigh.

“Thank you.”

“Of course.” Her lips curl into a cunning grin and she tries to hide it by lifting herself onto her toes and breathing through the fabric surrounding his neck. Mando’s muscles flex involuntarily and the hand on her hip slinks a path to the curve of her back, where he fists a bundle of poncho fabric in his leathers. She whispers, “How’s your back feeling?”

“It’s - it’s better.”

She exhales softly and he swears he can feel it through the cloth, warming his jugular with her gleaming words, “So, you won’t be needing my help tonight?” Mando groans as she weakly pats the lesion deep underneath his cloak—it doesn’t hurt, more or less stings like a Droch crawling through his skin and draining his energy, but that was the Girl’s disposition more so than the wound’s sensitivity.

“Well,” Mando clears his throat and steps closer—if that’s even possible—so his lower-half is pressing against her waist, evoking a hitch of his own breath from the contact. She’s so soft against him. “I might need a hand…”

She chuckles into his neck, sending the vibrations from her throat into his and it makes a beeline to his heart. It vortexes around the organ, a current so strong it’d be fatal to terminate the stream. Not that he wanted to stop it. It’s such a pleasant feeling, the phantoms of sunshine-esque tendrils applying a pacifying pressure that feels like that of an embrace; warm hands clasping his heart and delivering delicate kisses across the muscle. He can almost sense the cushioning of lips against the pulsing organ.

“Ya know, I’ve got more than just hands.”

“Fuck,” he whispers, practically drooling at the mere suggestion—he’d be so sluggish to drag it out as long as possible, every single touch of his deliberate to commit all her curves, bumps, even bruises, to memory. Store it away for a gloomy day, like a breach in the clouds; sunbeams breaking through the overcast and introducing a warmth like none other.

Mando cranes his neck to the side slightly and she takes the invite to burrow deeper. The blood in his neck is hot and the air in his helmet sultry. He wants to do nothing but drag her back to the ship and lock themselves away for the remainder of the day, but the irritated child on his hip is starting to get antsy. Mando gasps, “Need to - to take the kid out.”

She hums her sympathy against his neck, “Take your time. I’ll be here.”

Well, time was indeed taken, or however the saying goes.

The Mandalorian had been forced into conversations all day courtesy of the Child; he just couldn’t seem to stop touching things or feeding on display products of each stall they’d pass. Mando’s entire vocabulary had been decreased to continuous sorry’s and kid, no! It doesn’t just end there. The Child was inquisitive of all his surroundings, particularly places Mando couldn’t fit himself—it made for some awkward dialogue between him and the kiosk attendants when he’d be on his hands and knees rummaging around for a loose alien baby.

“I’m not stealing!” He’d reassure but it’d have the opposite effect and turn heads, people eyeing him with curiosity; a Mandalorian, like that in folklore, frantically chasing a little green toddler with something half-alive dangling from its mouth. He’s made a fool out of himself enough for a day. The Child, on the other hand, is still persistent—giving him somewhat of the silent treatment until Mando bargains a promise of food.

The Child attentively watches his food in the arms of the server, streaks of steam and a tender fragrance wafting in his direction as it settles onto the table ahead. “Thank you,” Mando nods and leans back in his seat, unequipping a small bag of leftover credits he could spare for the day and sliding it across the wooden surface, “do you know of any employment opportunities?”

“Regrettably not, sir,” the waiter replies and exchanges final pleasantries before returning behind the buffet to assist an unruly patron.

Mando sighs and returns his guard to the Child—who grabs a spoonful of scalding liquid and squeals in delight—and chews on the inside of his lip in thought. Tatooine is just as detestable as the last time he was here—the hustle and bustle never-ending. One would think that the Mandalorian could blend in with such an immense and diverse population, but his outright existence drew attention to himself; it’s becoming a ritual each time he steps foot inside a cantina. People’s discussions quickly cease as they scrutinise the warrior upon his entrance, contemplating whether they could neutralize him and pry the beskar steel from his body to sell in the black market. Some have tried and failed, of course. In his youth, Mando thrived off the sensation. It was empowering to have others tremble in their skin at the sheer sight of a Mandalorian, but he’s matured and those days are long since dead. He’s travel-worn, too exhausted to concern himself with people’s thoughts regarding him, so long as they weren’t orchestrating his downfall.

“I ain’t never seen a thing like this before,” a disembodied voice mutters from behind the Mandalorian, the shoddy cantina lighting casting a shadow across their table. Mando doesn’t tear his attention from the Child but reaches for his blaster nonetheless, the leathers fiddling with the hilt in preparation. “Where’d you get it?”

When he doesn’t reply, the figure shifts to come between him and the Child—a trandoshan with wide-set eyes and sharp pointed teeth, sneering at the man underneath the beskar. She’s got yellow-brown scaly skin and dons a protective piece underneath an unbuttoned shirt, with a hunting rifle across her back and a carbine strapped to her belt. She steals a chair from the closest table and swings it around to join the pair, placing her elbows on the table and looking back-and-forth between Mando and the Child.

“We’re looking to raise a youngling like this, maybe something a lil’ bit more competent than this one.” The Child’s green ears perk up at the stranger but just as quickly dismisses her, plunging the spoon into the womp rat stew for seconds or thirds—Mando wasn’t keeping track. She glances behind Mando and waves a hand and calls, “Bookoo, what d’ya think?”

Bookoo—a Wookiee decked with nothing more than a dual bandolier across his chest and a small satchel at his hip—appears into view, soaring over the accumulated individuals and extends a welcoming smile at Mando underneath the shaggy rug of his face. “Muawa, ur oh.”

“No? What, you think we’re gonna get anything better?”

Mando interrupts, tired of the banter, “He’s not going with you.”

“We have credits,” she taps the satchel on Bookoo’s hip, they clash against one another inside the leather.

“He’s not for sale.” Mando tears himself from his seat and shepherds the Child into his arms, ignoring the burbles and whines he emits as he tries to grab hold of the bowl. Mando turns for the exit, intently listening to the whispers of the pair behind him, but stops when called for.

“Uh-sir... Mandalorian, sir?” He turns on his heels and eyes the waiter who places two small packages stacked together atop the counter. “Your dessert, sir.”

The Trandoshan eyes the Mandalorian as he awkwardly balances the boxes in one arm and the Child in the other. She steps forwards once his hands are far from his blaster to make her claim, “I promised my group I’d bring back an apprentice, ya see? With a lil’ bit of training, that thing should be good to go. Ain’t that right, Bookoo?”

Bookoo steps back defensively, “Mu waa waa.”

“Stupid Wookiee,” she mutters and rises from her stool, her bare feet tapping against the cantina’s duracrete flooring. She places a claw on the counter in an attempt of intimidation, but she only sustains a pathetic reaction from the waiter. “What’s a Mandalorian need a child for anyways? You raising that thing to become one?”

“We’re done talking.”

“Aw, come on. We’re just having a small chat. No need to run for the dunes.”

The Mandalorian denies her the satisfaction of retaliation and continues outside. The familiar crunch of grit a welcoming sound through his filters—he never thought he’d be comforted by such a sound. The Trandoshan yells one last remark before he steers a corner, “If you change your mind, we’ll be here!”

He’s suspicious of their intentions—and uncertain whether they were tailing him—so he weaves through the night crowd, bumping and pushing the drunkards to and fro. Once he’s scampered plenty, and positive they hadn’t been stalking his footsteps, he returns to Peli’s hangar with a drowsy Child and now-cold dessert. Optimally, the kid will be tuckered out for the rest of the night but it was never a certainty—he just hopes he’ll give him some privacy for at least a few hours.

Peli wipes grease on a rag hanging from a belt hoop of her coveralls and offers Mando a smile, “I assume you got yourself a job?”

Mando shakes his head in defeat and delivers one of the takeaway boxes in her hands.

“What’s this?” She opens the box and her eyes practically light up with joy but it’s short-lived as she eyes him suspiciously, “Is this a bribe?”

“Just a nice gesture. I thought.”

“Hmm,” Peli hums and closes the box, nodding her head slightly. “Well, ‘bout that ship of yours… It’ll be two thousand.”

Two thousand. It’ll bleed their funds dry, but the Crest needs repairs. Without them, they’d be stranded here on Tatooine for the unforeseeable future—something Mando really couldn’t accommodate. There’s too much sand. Too many people. His calloused hands aren’t for sitting on; they’re created to work, and he won’t allow himself to leisure around a planet without performing some act.

The Girl won’t be pleased to hear he’s gone and spent a large sum of her earnings—not to mention how she’ll react when she ultimately comprehends she will be required to stay a little longer than expected. Mando feels his lips curling and he tries to smother it with reasoning; tries to tell himself he can’t keep her detained alongside him forever, but he’s obstinate and doesn’t take heed of his own advice. There’s a leap in his heart and a twisting in his stomach at the thought she’ll remain beside him for a little while longer—at least until he has the credits.

Perhaps the Child was onto something when he went and ripped all those wires out.

“That’s with a discount,” Peli adds.

“I should buy more of those.”

Peli scoffs at his jesting comment and tosses the takeaway parcel atop a flat surface. “The Girl. She’s good with her hands.”

If only she knew.

Something within the mechanic suggests that she does, in fact, know judging by the speculation written across her face; her squinted eyes waltzing his figure and her teeth chomping on the inside of her cheek to avoid voicing a sarcastic comment. The shield of beskar may disrupt his facial expressions—concealing them to only his cognisance—but his mannerisms are increasingly heightened to others and he’s gradually realising he’s not as proficient in masking them as he originally thought.

Mando swallows a thick lump in his throat and shifts his weight to one foot, his hip cocking out vaguely. “Is the maintenance finished?” he asks, shifting the topic to something he can reduce the awkwardness with.

Peli clicks her tongue and rolls her eyes, “Oh, you mean the replacement of the entire navigational controls? Yeah, did it all by myself in a matter of a few hours. No help from my droids. No, it’s not done! Do you know anything about spacecraft restoration?”

“I typically leave that in the hands of...professionals.” Mando chooses carefully. “When will it be ready?”

“Me and your Girl are done for the night.”

His Girl?

Mando’s cheeks flush mildly, a faint tint of pink lining across his nose accompanied by a heat tackling the inside of his visor. Those two little words sound exceptional as the settle surrounding him, fogging his head with the seven letters—seven letters that he couldn’t relate to. They don’t belong to him; wouldn’t belong to him.

But he lets himself fantasise they could—they are.

His Girl.

Mando’s lips ghost underneath the beskar, mouthing the words to himself as though to test the waters; dipping his toes in the substance and sampling the texture before sinking into it, letting it engulf him. He thinks of His Girl’s lips and how soft, how gentle, they looked. Her lips are the sandy borders of a beach—sand he wouldn’t mind if it were to wedge its way through his flight suit to abuse his body— and her tongue, her saliva, are the waters; refreshing but salty, leaving him thirsty for more.

Peli drags him out of his daydreaming without realising it, “But it should be up and running before the suns’ at its peaks. So you better have my credits ready! I’m not free labour, ya know.”

“Don’t worry,” he groans, “you’ll get the payment.”

She crosses her arms taut over her chest and squints at him suspiciously, probably wondering how he’s going to manage to pay her, but her determination fades into moderate compassion with a deep exhale. “All right, gimme the kid.”

“What? Why?”

Her earthy eyes flick up to the cockpit’s viewport and Mando twists his body to observe. The top of the Girl’s head can be seen from his perspective, her arms raised high above her in a stretch and then just as quickly disappears out of sight. Peli teasingly shoves Mando’s shoulder and laughs, “Go on, I’ll take the kid for the night. I’ll even do it for free; reimbursement for the dessert.”

She’s a blessing in disguise—who’s he to decline such a persuasive offer?

“Just-” Peli stabilises the weight in her arms, the Child placidly dozing off in one, “I better not be hearing all that, okay? If you wake either me or the kid up-”

“Thank you.”

She watches him, stunned, and then shakes her head and mutters something under her breath. Mando doesn’t even feel tempted to know what she’s whispering to herself, he only has one thought on his mind: His Girl.

The Mandalorian reunites with the Girl in the cockpit’s cabin. She’s sitting on the floor tinkering with loose cabling with a craned neck to accommodate for the low-rise control board. Mando’s unsure whether he’s delighted to see her down there or disappointed; something within him expecting her to be somewhere less uncomfortable, awaiting his return—it’s a selfish thought and a very hormonal one at that. He sighs to himself and sits in the passenger’s seat, his elbows leaning on his knees to peer over her shoulder. “I thought Peli said you were finished?” Mando queries.

“She’s finished. I’m not.”

Mando breathes her name, introducing it to the cramped cockpit and it’s stale air, and she pauses a moment to turn her head and look into the magnetising visor. Now he’s the one pausing. It’s comical how he’s so easily conquered by a single glance. She doesn’t look at him like that in holoplays—where her eyes gleam in the low light hanging above and her mouth twitches when she’s restraining a smile—so why does his heart flutter and his blood surge through his veins? Rather, her eyebrows are crinkled with discouragement on account of uncooperative cords and there’s a streak of oil across her forehead—she looks just as gorgeous as ever.

Mando’s voice softens as he talks to her, “Take a break. It can wait until morning.”

She dismisses his recommendation, “It’s fine, I can keep going.”

“Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should.”

“Quoting me to myself now, are we?”

He shrugs his shoulders. “You’re persuasive.” She chuckles some and he delves into the rumbles, enveloping himself in the bubbliness of it. “I brought food. You can have some if you stop working.”

She quirks an eyebrow and eyes the package in his leathers. “What is it?”

“Come here and look.”

“Are you having some?”

Mando contemplates, but he already knows his answer. “I’m not hungry,” he lies.

“Neither am I.” She deceitfully smiles and returns to her labours—it’s arduous, her fingers firmly twining the wires together and unravelling others apart to reconnect to a bundle loosely hanging underneath the panel.

The Mandalorian had completely forgotten how stubborn she can be, especially with his thoughts distorted by the events of last night; she had been so adaptable and willing to aid him. It’s ridiculous to think they’re the same person. Jaw clenching with defeat, Mando sighs heavily and fiddles with the takeaway box. It’s lid lifts from its fastenings to expose a small stack of fluffy cobalt-coloured pancakes. They’re slightly soggy from the absorbed condiments and stone-cold, having been outside for far too long, but they’re a Tatooine delicacy he had yet to try before.

Mando glances at the Girl and rips the pancake into sections, simultaneously watching her exhaust herself. She groans dramatically and readjusts her position, practically laying on her stomach with her torso hoisted by her elbows. It allows for her to maneuver underneath the control panels—and allows Mando to drag his eyes lower.

His leathers slide underneath the bottom of his helm and dislodge it from position, the beskar expelling a sharp hiss of air. He freezes at the reminder but the Girl doesn’t seem interested in the newly discovered noise; he continues, elevating the hindrance just above his mouth to slot in a slice of torn pancake.

They’re soft like her hands and he lets himself imagine they are—pretends the sweetness of the syrup is actually his cum on her fingers or, better yet, her own slick. He’s reluctant to even chew, not wanting to shred the impure fantasy he’s created upon himself, so he doesn’t. Mando sits there with the pancake in his mouth just holding it there, letting his tongue flatten underneath it and suck the syrup out to relish in the bittersweetness.

It’s only once he’s drained it of its flavour that he finally devours the cake in hunger. It’d been a while since he last ate, but he repeats the process with the other sections he had torn apart—struggling to contain his self-control as he savours the sweetness and imagery of the Girl writhing underneath him.

Mando plops the tips of his leathers in his mouth and absorbs the residual syrup before aligning his helmet in place yet again, his hunger reasonably quenched—his thirst for the Girl, not so much. It doesn’t help matters when she reaches for a cord and her poncho rides up, unmasking the curves of her backside and revealing a splinters-worth of skin above the hem of her pants. He indulges at the sight of taunting skin and licks a drop of syrup from his lips, imagining his head between her thighs lapping at something sweeter—tangier. Mando feels so fucking undignified around her like his honour has been squeezed out of an over-absorbed rag; dripping through the gaps in his fingers and there’s nothing he can do to catch it before it vaporises before his eyes hardly leaving a trace in its wake.

It’s wholly improper how his eyes attack her unclothed skin, obsessing over it like a glass of water in the outskirts of Tatooine. Now that he thinks about it, his mouth is significantly parched and he’s forced to bite his lip to avoid reaching out for the temptation. Still, he hungers to run his fingers across the bare flesh and explore her bumps and curves with his tongue, dragging it over her neck and feel the rumbles of her moans as he sucked on a pulsing vein. Her moans—what a magnificent sound that must be.

The unspoken promise between them plays with the dark crevices of his imagination.

I’ve got more than hands.

Mando’s unsure if she meant it; she hadn’t indicated anything to him since his return. Is she expecting him to make the first move? If so, that’s torturous in itself.

Coffee-coloured eyes battle against the azure cakes and he confronts a moral dilemma. He has an inclination to satisfy the building arousal in his pants but it doesn’t align with his traitorous voice, “Eat.”

The Girl glances over her shoulder and Lord, he could get used to that view especially with him atop of her. She reverts her gaze to the opened box in his lap. “I’m not-”

“I’ve had one,” he confesses and tilts the box to show a stack of three remainders, “two each, but you can have my other.”

“When did you… Did you take off your helmet? In front of me?”

“Behind you,” he corrects.

She doesn’t find the humour in the situation, though, which surprises Mando. “What - what about your Creed? Fuck, Mando. You can’t…”

His expression softens underneath the visor and he sinks to his knees on the ground so he’s eye-level with the Girl, clasping one of her hands in his leathers. “Don’t concern yourself with that. I didn’t remove it entirely, just enough to eat. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Not that big of a deal? Mando-”

Mando impolitely interrupts her by pushing a torn slab of blue through her parted lips—his digits lingering longer than necessary—and he chuckles at her shocked grimace.

She swallows and slaps his pauldron, “Rude!”

“Sit down and eat.”

The Girl conforms to his invitation and settles beside him, her back firmly planted against the durasteel wall of the cockpit. Mando awkwardly lowers to sit as well, the beskar clanking against the wall behind them but he doesn’t take any notice of it. It’d be like herding a group of Nexu—utterly impossible—if he tried to concentrate on anything but her thigh against his or her hand digging through the box on his lap.

She munches on a blue cake beside him and it takes everything in him to give her privacy and not drool over the sticky syrup running down her fingers. It’s like she can read him though, her unsoiled hand hooking two fingers on the underside of the helmet and dragging it to look at her. “What about you?”

“I’ve...had one.”

“One. I don’t want you passing out on me. Here, I’ll look away.”

Mando eyes the divided dessert between her fingers and the drop of golden syrup slowly making way to her third knuckle. She’s not looking at him and can’t identify whether he’s accepting her offer or not, but she doesn’t dare retract her hand; it just hovers in the air waiting for his leathers to grasp the food from her—they don’t. Something so much softer does, though.

Mando licks a long stripe along the underside of her fingers, tearing the pancake from her clutch with his tongue and reserving it in the cheek of his mouth for later—too preoccupied with the sugary concentrate coating her fingers. She tenses at the sensations. It’s overwhelming, consuming her thoughts and spitting them out in a pile of goo. It’s almost irresistible to not look at him, to not watch as he sucks on her fingers so fucking desperately, but she’s respectful of his Creed even if it kills her.

“Mando,” she whispers because it’s too quiet, too real.

His tongue is persistent, parting her fingers from each other and lapping at the syrup in the crevices of her knuckles. It’s so sweet and he moans around her fingers at the taste on the back of his tongue. Mando doesn’t concern himself with the potential of humiliation—he ought to look downright laughable right now—because she’s so sweet and soft in his mouth, far superior to the pancake he relished earlier. There’s a puny attempt to pull away on her behalf but with a firm grip on her wrist, she holds her position inside his mouth, especially when his teeth lock her digits in place, while her other hand finds the plate of thigh armour and hooks the fingers underneath.

“Shit,” she breathes and leans into him.

The Girl’s palm flattens against his chin and he stiffens his jaw, his movements slacking behind now that he’s focused on the warmth on his face. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had touched him so tenderly, no - he could but he didn’t want to; didn’t want to ruin the moment with the imagery of blaster fire and his mother’s last loving touch.

Her reassuring strokes against his cheeks with her free fingers urge him on and he sucked the final of the syrup from her digits before freeing them from his lips, placing a peck on the tips. Once the helmet is resealed, he finishes the neglected pancake in his mouth.

“You’re not as reserved as you act,” she chuckles, “where was that last night?”

Mando smiles. “Come here and let me show you.”

Where was all this confidence coming from?

He doesn’t care—he’s making a fucking move while he can.

The Girl contemplates him with a raised brow and a small smirk toying at her lips. It makes him want to know what she’s thinking—formulating—in that head of hers, but he’s not left in suspense for long. She braces a leg over his lap and straddles him, constricting her inner thighs against the outside of his and tilting his helmet back to look up at her.

Mando nearly stops breathing, his organs refusing to cooperate in unison with such an unknown weight atop of him. All that confidence from earlier completely obliterates with just one roll of her hips—maybe it wasn’t confidence but arrogance, he thinks. She’s devious, he can see the pleasure in her eyes at his unfolding below her.

“Are you looking at me?” she asks, a hand on either side of his helmet to steady his head.

He nods because he doesn’t trust himself not to whine if he opens his mouth.

She looks back at him and for a moment, just a second, he feels as though she can see him, and then she grinds down and sketches the outline of his stiffening cock below her heat—and fuck if it isn’t one of the friskiest things he’s ever beared witness to. There’s just something so unique about the eye contact when she’s unravelling him like a ball of yarn; he wants to gaze into her eyes without the guard ahead of him and break her apart. “F-fuck, you’re,”-she rolls her hips again, faster-“ah, you’re too - too good to me.”

“I know,” she quips.

Daunting. It’s so fucking daunting being so paralysed with arousal underneath the Girl, stripped down to an accumulated pile of whimpers and twitches as she takes her sweet time tormenting him—and he fucking enjoys every second of it. He’s fatigued from years of bounty hunting, years of being shot, stabbed, beaten, and it’s stimulating having somebody touch him so languidly and voluntarily care for him in such a way.

“Tell me what you want, Mando.”

He swallows.

It’s so fucking ironic. He’s never had more than a few thousand credits to his name at a time and yet, pinned below the Girl with her being so provocative, he feels like the richest man alive—because it couldn’t be luck; he’d never been so fortunate to as receiving a simple bounty commission, a beautiful girl extracting every drop of arousal out of him no less.

He moans her name and inches his fingers under her poncho, “Want - fuck, I need-”

Mando’s pleas are interrupted by a suspiciously familiar disembodied voice shouting, “Come on out and nobody gets hurt!” It’s a gruff, hoarse sound that oils the cogs in his mind. The Trandoshan. She must’ve followed him here…but he took precautions…

He can’t find it within himself to tear his hands away from the Girl to survey the threat outside, so she takes it upon herself to clamber off his lap leaving him cold and hard in his pants. Molten lava rises in his chest as he raises to his feet, staring out the viewport with such vengeance it almost surprises him. The Trandoshan firmly stands with Peli Motto beside her, the barrel of her carbine pressed against her temple, and the Child squirming in her adjacent limb.

“Shit!” he growls and slams a pair of closed fists against the nav controls. It whines upon impact and blips a malfunctioning screen at his outburst.

“Hey, calm down,” she soothes, a hand slipping into his.

“They have Peli! ...The kid.”

The Trandoshan leers at him through the viewport. “Leave that blaster of yours on the ship and get down ‘ere. No funny business either! I’ll fire a hole through her head otherwise. Then the Kid’s.” She accentuates her point by thrusting the barrel against Peli’s temple harder.

The Girl fishes his blaster out of his holster. “They haven’t seen me,” she explains. “I’ll wait until you get close enough to them but don’t try anything without me.”

It could work. It could fail. He didn’t have an alternative plan.

“Okay,” he agrees, understanding the moment between them is long gone.

With one final gawp outside, Mando pries himself away from the nav controls and heads downstairs, bare. It’s not as though he’s completely defenceless; the flamethrower in his vambraces had enough fuel to get him out of a pinch, the whipcord could serve a purpose if essential, and he still possessed his vibro-knife in his boot. None of that can compare to the comfort of a blaster in his hand though.

The Child and Peli Motto’s safety is his priority, so he’ll comply with the Girl’s strategy and get as close to the Trandoshan as possible. He’ll use brute force if necessary.

They’ve relocated to an open region in the hangar where it’ll be near impossible to shield everybody if a blaster fight ensues. Preferably, it won’t come to that. The Trandoshan flexes her finger against the trigger when Peli fidgets with her hands beside her. Mando vaguely shakes his head in her direction and examines the Child’s wellbeing in the yellow-brown scaly arms.

“I’m here.” He raises his hands to demonstrate his compliance, “Let them go and we’ll talk.”

She sneers at him, laughs. “No.” The blaster reels back and whips Peli over the head, knocking her unconscious in a piled heap on the ground. Mando moves forwards, his fists tightening with each step. “Hold it right there.” The Child whines against the cold barrel pressing into his wrinkled forehead. Mando stops hastily, his eyebrows twitching with rage.

“What do you want?”

“I’ve already told you.”

“What do you need a child for?”

She smiles hauntingly, her sharp teeth locking together through her open-mouthed grin. “We don’t need one, but this one’s got a pricey bounty on its head,”—she aims for the flesh above his heart plate—“as do you.”

Guild members. Just his luck they’d be situated on Tatooine at the same time as he is.

The Mandalorian’s visor tilts to the Child in her arms, his eyes narrowing on the outstretched green claw. The kid’s eyes shut and his forehead wrinkles as he desperately tries to concentrate on something, and then it clicks in Mando’s head. His powers. The Child hadn’t used them since they took down the Mudhorn and Mando was beginning to think they had vanished, but they mustn’t have—he’s too focused on the air ahead of him.

The Trandoshan hasn’t noticed his fidgeting and Mando takes it upon himself to keep the barrel focused on him by stepping forwards, providing the Child time to figure out his abilities. “You won’t leave here alive,” he taunts.

She seems unfazed by his remarks, too confident in her plans. “Ah, what do we have here?” The Trandoshan asks curiously, peering over the Mandalorian’s figure and he whips his head to follow. The Girl is subdued in the arms of the acquainted Bookoo, who must’ve been anticipating resistance and remained obscured from their sight.

The Girl fights against his grip but he’s far too strong for her to overpower and she limps in defeat, glancing up behind her at the Wookiee; eyes enlarging and her mouth falling agape underneath the face-covering she donned for the occasion.

Then—the last thing the Mandalorian expects to hear—the Trandoshan exclaims her name in a greeting, “It’s been a while!”

_______________________________

“Muawa, ur oh” - no, thank you “Mu waa waa” - please leave me alone

A/N: Good lord I am so sorry for an 8k chapter, I really didn’t want to split it into two. However, with this one being so long the next might not be out until the middle of next week (if I can manage to actually concentrate for long enough to write). Let me know how you enjoyed it and if you want to be added to the taglist! PS I’m running of gifs...please help...what do yall search for such hd gifs?

taglist: @ohhersheybars, @greatcircle79

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dovakhiindrabbles · 3 years

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Two in one I’m on a roll! Anyhow, I thought I’d jump into Emeline’s side of the family before moving back to Aisha and Isran – I want to tie the two together but I really need to introduce these two and elaborate on their relationship with one another and Rosie before I do that! They haven’t gotten enough attention when they’re both incredibly important members of Rosie’s family – after all, this is where our Rosie got her name!

A warning for death and violence however! If you’re sensitive to those themes please keep them in mind before reading!

More Info underneath!

To avoid confusion, I’ll be referring to our Rosie as just Rosie and her grandmother as Rosalie!

Continuing from that, I’d like to introduce a new face: Rosalie Julienus-Asarmeson (The first of her namesake – though she took the title of Rosalie Sr. with Rosie’s birth). To be blunt, Rosalie has had a rough and difficult upbringing that led to the short-tempered, and brash woman that Tulius would eventually meet. She grew up an orphan in Bruma, abandoned at a young age and left to fend for herself in the cold mountains. Occasionally a pitying member of the Fighter’s Guild or the Great Chapel would offer her help only for Rosalie to promptly stick out her tongue and declare she didn’t need any help. She was considered a bit of a nuisance and continually sought after by guards who she’d smugly give the slip.

However, years of further and further alienation built Rosalie into a distant, frustrated soul. Her few good deeds would go unnoticed upon a mounting pile of small ones and the citizens of Bruma never quite understood how to connect with a child whose very first memories of the city were coated in loss. Attempts were made on both ends but never at the same time, or at the very least, not enough to make Bruma her home. At fifteen, she left and made her way to the Imperial City, desperate to find a sense of worth. Rosalie found the closest semblance in the Arena.

It was when Rosalie won the title of Champion that she was recruited by the Imperial Army, years later. She’s noted for her incredibly strength and resilience – even fighting bare handed and by whatever means in order to win. Her potential is finally recognized and though Rosalie would never admit it, it’s the possibility of finding that support system she’d always lacked that convinced her.

However, she almost immediately comes to regret this when she’s put under the command of Tulius, a newly promoted captain given the task of keeping Rosalie out a trouble for a minute training Rosalie. The two are almost always at each other’s throats, bickering, arguing, and fighting until it almost reaches a breaking point. Almost. Things thankfully, begin to change when Tulius (definitely not after being given a stern talking to from his command) stops trying to make Rosalie do things his way, and instead attempts to appeal to her. He observes her habits, mannerisms, and actions and attempts to implement that into her training. Rosalie of course, notices this and moves to the offensive – changing her movements and throwing him off at every turn. It’s confusing and frustrating and ultimately culminates into the very thing they should’ve done from the beginning: talk.

It begins as a furious argument – Rosalie upset over Tulius constantly trying to get in her head and Tulius then enraged that he wouldn’t have to do any of this if Rosalie tried to work with him! Rosalie then admits that she doesn’t know how to work with others, she’s always been on her own, why would she immediately bend over backwards to appeal to some stuck-up captain? This opens up a dialogue, and the two have a deep and meaningful conversation that points them in the direction of friends. Both take steps to be more thoughtful and patient with the other and soon enough, Rosalie becomes Tulius’s closest friends and advisor. Through years of surviving and fighting on her own Rosalie had become an excellent strategist, and Tulius had roused the strength and loyalty in his soldiers to carry out these plans. They became an inseparable duo and along the years, those feelings of friendship became more.

As a couple, one could often find the two sneaking off plenty of times to spend time with each other – people figured out soon enough, they didn’t have to say there was an ‘impromptu meeting’ but the lovestruck doofuses did anyways. Their relationship was always full of understanding and kindness, and even when the famed and feared General Tulis was at his most vexed, he could always be calmed down by equally feared Legate Rosalie just holding his hand. Rosalie and Tulius had a single daughter, Emeline, who they adored with all their hearts and souls. It wasn’t rare to see a baby Emeline in a sling on Tulius’s back as he tried to have a meeting or Rosalie doting on her toddler in the middle of a training. Rosalie wanted to be there for her child in all the ways her parents never had been. She truly loved her daughter and eventually Rosalie more than words could ever describe. Tulius too, was a notorious sap, who could be in an absolute rage only to melt at the sight of either his daughter or his granddaughter. (His famed ‘sweet voice’ was a well-known joke among the soldiers)

Rosalie was one of the most highly valued and respected members of the Imperial army, commended by Emperor TItus Mede II and even offered a place among the Blades. She could’ve easily been alongside Tulius as General had she not had that fateful meeting with her own former soldier, Ulfric, who initially idolized Rosalie. She was this intelligent, and masterful Nord leader among the Imperial forces and in his eyes, exemplified everything he himself wanted to be. Rosalie herself, kept him at a distance. He was a gifted young man who’d trained among the Greybeards but he always teetered along an edge. He struggled connecting with others from his training among the Greybeards and blindly loyal to the traditional, fracticous ways of Skyrim that Rosalie never understood.

She did her best to steer Ulfric towards growth and act as the supportive figure she never had in her youth when Ulfric was kidnapped in the midst of the Great War. This would eventually culminate in the dangerous, hateful figure seen in the Civil War who eventually kills Rosalie when the two meet again, with Imperial Legions investigating early Stormcloak sightings. (Not shortly after Civil War is declared but many hadn’t considered it with the scale and ferocity seen with Rosie’s time. Many thought it’d be a lengthy but ultimately useless endeavor. I’d say 188? Making Rosie 13) Rosalie’s death is considered a catalyst for the size and intensity the Civil War is seen with in Rosie’s day. Rosalie’s death was considered a tragedy all throughout Cyrodil, and Tulius himself was despondent and guilt-ridden for not being with her for months afterwards. Inadvertently, Tulius distanced himself from much of his family, even Emeline, and Rosie’s visits to Cyrodil lessened more and more. Their relationship is only rekindled when the two reunite again in Helgen and Tulius is fueled by revenge and frustration. Rosie joins her grandfather to seek vengeance against the man who destroyed not just their lives and families but those of so many others.

———————————————————————————————————–

My apologies, I know that’s quite a bit! But Rosalie’s character is so extremely important to the motivations of Rosie that I couldn’t ignore her! Tulius too is also someone who’s relationship with Rosie has a lot of depth and change throughout her story that I really, really wanted to at least touch on it! That being said, here’s a few more lighthearted facts!

Extra!

- Rosalie almost sobbed for hours when Emeline told her that she was naming her daughter after her biggest hero, her mother. Rosalie spent all her years as Rosie’s grandmother striving to be the best example possible and even was the one to introduce Rosie to the two-handed weaponry she adores so much.

- Tulius calls his granddaughter, ‘Rosebud’ and spoiled her to no end. He and Ehsan would write letters exchanging gift ideas when birthdays or holidays came around.

- Emeline as a child used to steal her father’s cloak so he wouldn’t leave her for his ‘boring meetings.’ She was glued to her father’s hip all throughout her childhood and was without a doubt her father’s daughter.

- Rosie and Rosalie will eventually meet again in Sovngarde when Rosie goes to vanquish Alduin. It’s a heartfelt and teary reunion and Rosalie leaves many messages for Rosie to send back for the family she misses so dearly. It brings back a bit of light that Tulius had long thought was gone when Rosie relays the message to ‘wait just a bit longer’ for them to reunite.

- As a child, Rosalie’s only source of comfort and idolization came from the Hero of Kvatch. She adored hearing stories of his rise to heroics and courage that never faltered even during the most difficult of times. (He was a little bit more of a shy doofus but most people don’t entirely remember that) It was his stories that made the harsh, cold nights a little easier to weather.

Anyhow, I hope you all enjoyed this important look into Rosie’s family and even more so hope that you have a marvelous day! If you have an questions feel free to send them my way!

#Rosieverse: Rosalie Sr #Rosieverse: Rosalie #Rosieverse: Tulius #Skyrim #Skyrim tes #General Tulius #Tulius #LDB #Dragonborn OC #My Dragonborn #Rosieverse #blood tw #tes

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delkios · 5 years

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The Beginning of Forever (ToV)

I gotta say, the fact that the game ends with all the world's blastia turning into spirits, I'm shocked and somewhat disappointed at the lack of post-game spirit world speculation. I kind of like a Shaman King-esque situation where spirits (weaker spirits) are tiny floating figures that can lend a person of their choosing their power or empower items. I also like the idea that the barrier blastia became city spirits that can act in their own interests but also protect their respective cities. Eventually. After Estelle ran around for a year or two trying to talk the spirits into being cooperative. Title: The Beginning of Forever Fandom: Tales of Vesperia Rating: G Word Count: 2618 In Responds to: Fluri Week 2019: Sweet Sunday Characters: Flynn, Yuri, cameo by Judith and a couple OCs Summary: Future fic, it's the first day of the rest of Flynn's life. Flynn wakes up with the sun, even though he doesn't have to anymore. For a moment he's disoriented, mind automatically shuffling through his schedule, making lists of all the things he has to do in order to prepare for his first meeting and stalling out when he remembers he doesn't have any today. Or for the foreseeable future. He lays in bed, even though his body is already becoming restless, and wonders how the hell he's going to survive the rest of his life. Mornings in Aurnion are chilly most times of the year so, when it's time for the markets to open and Flynn finally leaves, he pulls on a coat. It's admittedly too fancy for something as simple as shopping, a parting gift from Ioder, but it's currently the only one he's unpacked. The house is on the outskirts of Aurnion- it's current outskirts, the original wall had long been taken down as the town grew -so it's a bit of a walk but it allows Flynn time to enjoy the sun and scent of dew-laden grass and the nearby forest.

The market itself is a little on the hectic side, mainly from all the people wanting to talk to him and give him gifts, welcoming him to the town he'd helped found. Then a couple knights joined the crowd, and the town's knight commander, then the mayor and even a couple guild representatives and Flynn will absolutely deny that he ended up making some awkward excuse and farewell before taking what groceries he'd managed to buy and running. He hopes the novelty of his presence wears off quickly. As he clears the last row of houses, Flynn spots Ba'ul in the open area behind his house- part of the reason for getting it, really -and quickens his pace. The Entelexeia hasn't changed a bit, though Flynn swears he gets a bigger each time Flynn sees him. As Flynn expects, Judith is there and he takes her hand in greeting. "Ba'ul, Judith. Always a pleasure." "Same." She reaches forward with her other hand, brushing her fingertips along his jaw. "The beard suits you." Flynn laughs- he's had that beard for over a decade now. "You always say that." "And it's always true. Karol asked me to apologize for missing your retirement ceremony on his behalf." "It's alright. You were all there for the important one." The one held a week earlier in the Lower Quarter which, despite spending nearly forty years living in and working out of the palace, still felt more like home to him. It had been a sprawling, raucous party that had lasted nearly to dawn, music and lights, dancing and laughter and so many people from all over eager to tell him how proud they were and wishing the best in his future. In contrast, his official retirement ceremony was as expected for an upper class event: stuffy with decorum and full of nobles and dignitaries and politicians who pretended they'd always liked Flynn and would miss him dreadfully. Estelle and Rita were about the only people worth sticking through it for. Especially when Rita would 'accidentally' wheel over the feet of particularly annoying 'well wishers'. If anyone asks, Flynn will freely admit he's glad he'll never have to go to one of those things again. "Speaking of which, Yuri brought your gift inside already." All the people he'd known and grew up with in the Lower Quarter had decided to make him a quilt, each square a message from a person or family. It ended up being about the size of a wall tapestry and Flynn had asked Judith to bring it to Aurnion for him. She turns back toward Ba'ul and Flynn asks, "Are you leaving already?" Judith winks back over her shoulder. "I'd hate to get in the way of your reunion." That enigmatic smile and her taste in clothes are the only things that hasn't changed. Honestly, Flynn is somewhat jealous of that. He hadn't thought himself a vain man until he began to visibly slide out of his physical prime, pushing himself harder through his workouts and trying to ignore the aches and pains that lingered longer until Estelle and Ioder and, finally, Yuri banded together to knock sense back into him. But Judith didn't care about how the passage of time changed her looks, unashamed of showing off her wrinkles and stretch marks and rolls. Flynn supposed having her as a sort of role model helped him cope with his own physical imperfections. "Besides, we'll be back soon enough for your house warming party." Flynn just huffs at her in reply, waving Judith and Ba'ul farewell. Then when he enters the house he's greeted by, "Well, well. If it isn't the former commandant," Flynn's breath catches. Sure, they'd seen each other a week ago but his breath always catches, his heart always skips a beat whenever he sees Yuri for the first time. It has since they were in their twenties. "Took you long enough." Flynn can't help a fond smile even as he shoots back, "Not everyone's retirement process is as simple as telling Karol you'll be retiring in five months." Yuri just shrugs. "You get the better pension, so trade off. By the way, Estelle know you stole one of her dogs?" Flynn reflexively looks down at Thierry at Yuri's side, his tail wagging lightly as Flynn's attention. "Estelle gave him to me. She figured now I'd have time to train a dog." Thierry's young, hasn't yet grown out of his puppy stage entirely. He's also Repede's great-something grandson though, asides from his tail, there's no other resemblance. He's mostly black sable with pale tan patches on his chest and around his red eyes. Flynn isn't certain if Thierry is stockier than Repede was or if maybe Estelle spoils her pets overmuch. "Just how I wanted to spend my retirement years," Yuri sighs, all for show, "babysitting even more things." "I'm pretty sure it's usually the other way around. Isn't that right, Luna?" Yuri's right hand from just below the elbow unravels into a dark mist before reforming into a long, flat spirit, not unlike a ribbon eel whose body is made out of midnight and stars, spine rimmed an iridescent yellow. Luna's full, glowing eyes curves into happy crescents as she swirls around Flynn in greeting. Flynn lets the spirit weave between his fingers. "You've been keeping Yuri in line for me, haven't you?" She trills in response. "I swear," Yuri says in mock indignation, "she likes you better than me." From behind Yuri's thick braid of silver hair, another spirit pops out, hissing at Flynn in actual indignation. Flynn winces and chuckles. "I'm sorry I didn't wake you, Aska. I only went to the market." Aska, a three legged bird-like creature with a ring for a body and a tiny sun floating inside, isn't placated, glaring at Flynn while allowing Yuri to scratch under its chin and coo about how mean and thoughtless Flynn is. Thierry grumbles at the lack of attention directed to himself and goes to thrust his head under Flynn's hand for skritches. "How'd Zaphias take you leaving?" Yuri asks as he takes Flynn's groceries and heads toward the kitchen. "Well enough, I think." Flynn goes to stand in the entry way, watching as Yuri begins to cook, their spirits finally switching back to their preferred people. Luna fashions herself back into Yuri's hand to help him cook. "It took a while for them to understand that I'd be leaving- really leaving -and that they'd need to work with the new commandant." Zaphias resides in the Sword Stair, right where their core used to sit. It had taken both Flynn and Estelle years of careful coaxing and handling before they agreed to lend their power, under direction of Flynn and Ioder, to protecting Zaphias instead of acting out on their own. "You think they'll listen to Ilka?" "I can only hope." Flynn has the utmost confidence in the new commandant, otherwise he wouldn't have retired. "I've seen her work with the spirits protecting Halure and the ports. I'm certain she can handle Zaphias. But," he says because he knows that look Yuri is side-eying him with, "that's not anything I need to worry about any more. So what was so dire it needed Brave Vesperia's founding members to get back into action?" Yuri waves a hand and says something vague about council troubles- Dahngrest has been trying to implement an actual system of government to avoid another succession issue -which he obviously doesn't care about on top of being retired and goes into far more detail about how apparently Karol and Harry's granddaughters nearly eloped and that Karol was needed to mediate his family on the issue. "It's not that anyone doesn't want them getting hitched," Yuri explains as they finish up their breakfast, "it's just the girls don't want a big affair but Harry's the former Don and Karol's the founder of one of the biggest guilds so people keep butting in." Flynn hums, draining the last of his tea. "I believe I'm still a legally recognized officiant. Just to throw that out there." Given one of the women involved is the daughter of Yuri's -and, by extension, Flynn's -godson, he feels obligated to help where he can. Yuri laughs, "If it gets that bad, I'm sure Karol'll be happy to ship 'em our way." He gets up to let Aska and Luna out of the house, Thierry playfully chasing and nipping after them. As they clean up, Flynn talks about the weekend he spent in Halure with Estelle and Rita and their family- the Ristelle Mob, as Yuri dubbed them -as well as the trip from Zaphias, being picked up by Patty despite her technically still being a wanted criminal. She gave Flynn her obligatory threat of kidnapping Yuri for her harem in the same breath she promised to come for the house warming party. Yuri just laughs. And when Flynn mentions swinging by Zaude to pay his respects to Raven, Yuri looks both sad and fond. It had been by Raven's request- when he refused to let Rita find an alternative to his failing heart -that he be buried in such a remote place where few, even now, were allowed to go. A place, he said, where he'd no longer be bothered, his simple grave kept company by two equally simple markers, one for Yeager and the other marked Casey. There had been flowers put there recently, Flynn notes, likely by Gauche and Droite who had all but disappeared after the Adephagos. On paper Flynn had, due to their involvement with Leviathan's Claw, put a warrant out for their arrest but put minimal resources into actually finding them. After a few years with barely even rumors of their presence, Flynn had quietly shuffled those warrants to where all others would eventually forget about them. He wonders, every now and again, if they ever a found a way to be happy. A finger roughly pokes him in the forehead. "Ow!" Flynn says out of reflex rather than pain. "What was that for?" "Because you're gonna scratch up my pan if you keep wiping it like that," Yuri says. "And also I know when you're thinking about work. Or what used to be your work," he added with a very pointed stress on the word. "Sorry," Flynn replies because it's not worth lying about it, putting away the now thoroughly dried pan. He takes a moment to watch Yuri wipe the sink and then his hand dry and stretch his arms up and back until his spine curves and joints pop. "So?" Flynn asks. "Now what?" "How was your walk into town?" Flynn sighs. Yuri grins right back. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Think we'd be better off taking a nap right now." Flynn looks at him as if he'd just said something completely alien. "Nap?" "Yup. I got up too damn early to get here and I'll bet you woke up too damn early yourself. And you gotta learn to take it easy so," Yuri grabs Flynn's shoulder and spins him around until he's facing toward the bedroom, "nap." "But... Thierry-" "Can use the dog door to get back in. And if he hasn't figured out how to to use it, Luna and Aska can show 'im." Despite his protests, Flynn makes it to the bedroom with only a bit of prodding though he feels somewhat foolish changing back into his sleeping clothes at Yuri's insistence. He's much more amendable to the idea when it becomes apparent that Yuri is joining him. As they get into bed, arranging themselves around each other with practiced ease, Flynn gets startled when, instead of tucking his face against Flynn's neck as he usually does, Yuri leans in close enough to cause Flynn to push into the mattress reflexively. "What?" "When did you last spend any time in the sun? I can see your freckles again." He chuckles. "Forgot you had 'em, actually." "Your memory must be going," Flynn quips dryly, "because you said the exact same thing last week." "Can't help it if I'm not used to you being so pale." Yuri laces their fingers together, holding their joined hands up where Flynn can easily see. "You're almost as pale as me now." He's not, really, but there's no denying Flynn is not nearly as tanned as he used to be. He lets their hands drop and Yuri slides around a bit so he can prop his head up on Flynn's chest. Flynn doesn't bother attempting to crane his neck to look at him, he knows that angle is too awkward on a good day. "So how was your first twenty four hours as a free man?" Yuri asks. Flynn's mouth and brow creases as he bluntly says, "Boring." Yuri doesn't try very hard to hide the fact that he's laughing. "I know how that is. Haven't figured out what you're going to do with yourself yet?" Flynn sighs. "When I first started the retirement process, I thought I had plenty of time to do so." "But you didn't," Yuri states, apparently unsurprised. "No." He snorts, then stretches back out next to Flynn. "Good luck with that." Flynn lifts a hand up just to drop it knuckles down on Yuri's back. "You could offer suggestions." "I have a hard enough time keeping myself busy, thanks." But he hums and tilts his head to look at Flynn thoughtfully. "Is there anything you've wanted to do but never had the time?" He looks up at the ceiling, dwelling on the question and coming up blank. Yuri snorts again but doesn't turn away. After a long moment, Flynn asks, "Should we get married?" "Oh, it only took you thirty years to ask," Yuri teases. "Only because I got tired of waiting for you to." "Couldn't. Made a bet with Judy 'bout who'd crack and ask first." Flynn turns to give Yuri a mild glare. "You did not." "Didn't I?" Honestly it's absurd enough to go either way. "In that case you owe me half of whatever you won." "Yeah, yeah." Yuri scoots over to rest his head on Flynn's chest, fingers scratching through his beard. "Yes, by the way." "Hm?" "To getting married. Your memory must be going, old man." Flynn rolls them over, pressing Yuri into the bed. "I'll show you how old I am." "Good idea. I better sample the goods before committing." Flynn sighs. "I can't believe I'm marrying you." "Me, either," Yuri quips but, as they kiss, Flynn can taste the words and I can't wait on his lips.

#fic 2019 #fluriweek2019 #fluri #tales of vesperia #flynn scifo #yuri lowell

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dappervolk · 5 years

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New Year, New Update!

After taking some time to process and prioritize everything that we'd like to achieve during our closed development period, our team is excited to announce that we are aiming for the official release of Dappervolk to be within the first or second quarter of 2019!

As always, please keep in mind that this timeframe is subject to changes depending on any obstacles that we may encounter while developing some of our more complex new features. But rest assured, we will have more specific news and updates for everyone regarding our launch timeframe as we continue to make headway through our development projects - so stay tuned!

One of the major projects that we are currently working on for official launch is a brand new town to explore! This location will continue the storyline where many beta testers left off, departing from the sandy shores of Aviar Cove in search for exciting, new horizons - or perhaps, great new depths?

Our current work on this new town and its inhabitants will largely be kept as a surprise for players to unlock during official launch, so we won't be able to share any new sneak peeks with you - but if you're curious about our progress, we are currently in the process of finalizing the art assets and fleshing out the quest writing! What we can share, are some fun in-progress assets for other areas of the site that we are currently developing. For example, we will be expanding Peddler's Port with various new NPCs like the one below.

Some of our most anticipated features for official launch are also some of our most coding-intensive projects thus far! Currently, our coders are hard at work transforming our design mockups for these features into fully functional parts of the site. Below are some of the major upcoming features that we're working on right now.

USER-RUN GUILD SYSTEM

During our beta testing phase, you may have noticed that our "upcoming things" list was updated with a few bullet points dedicated to a new feature called Guilds! This system is designed to give users the ability to create and run their own public or private group, with built-in features such as a customizable theme and homepage, customizable ranks/permissions, a guild-only mini forum and live chat, guild events, and guild upgrade goals to work toward.

Since our last update, this feature has progressed through the concepting and UI design process, and onto the coding and refining stage! Our coders have made great progress thus far, so be sure to keep an eye out for more details on how this feature will be implemented into the game as we get closer to putting the finishing touches on this exciting project.

ADVENTURE EXPANSION

During beta testing, users got to experience our initial framework and first build for a feature called Adventure! Admittedly, this early iteration of the feature was designed as more of a functional test run of its newly built framework than a fully realized, fun game for players to experience - so we completely understood when many felt a bit disappointed by its beta testing debut.

However, thanks to all of the testing and input that we received from our beta testers, we are very excited to now be working on implementing and realizing the full range of ideas that we've been planning for this side scrolling mini-game styled feature!

Some new features that will be coming to Adventure are a variety of new default and unlockable sprite appearances, toggle-able active and passive game modes, better optimization, new regions to unlock, new Adventuring music, an encounters bar, and more!

HOUSING PROGRESS

By far, one of our most anticipated - and most ambitious - upcoming features is the introduction of customizable player homes into the world of Dappervolk!

Once unlocked, users will be able to decorate and arrange the contents of their homes on an easy to use grid-based system. Additionally, we plan to integrate a player's Adventure sprite into this feature, allowing you to freely hop throughout your home and even invite your friends over to chat in real-time! Each home will also include skills activities and crafting - but more details on this will be revealed in the future, as we are currently focusing on building the framework for this feature and refining the artistic direction that we'd like to take for the massive amount of assets that it will require. Please note that, while we regard housing as one of our most important new features, the sheer amount of technical considerations and graphic assets that it will take to produce this feature is something that we do not want to underestimate during development. Because of this, there is a possibility that housing may not be completely ready for release at the time of official launch. Nevertheless, we are extremely excited about the feature and can't wait to share more about it with you as we progress further through development!

MINI GAMES & MUSIC

It wouldn't be a complete update without some news on our upcoming mini game plans and gameplay music, right? Because we plan to officially launch Dappervolk with a brand new town, a new mini game will also be released via the Playground alongside that town! Additionally, we also plan to have some amazing new music to go long with the new mini game, as well as our Adventure expansion.

Interested in listening to our existing Dappervolk music? Visit our talented composer's Dappervolk page over on Bandcamp! https://stijnvanwakeren.bandcamp.com/album/dappervolk

MINOR DELAY

Over the holidays, an unexpected hard drive failure occurred on the main desktop of our lead artist and project manager, Quis. Thankfully, we keep regular data backups on external drives, so no files or progress were lost in the process. She has since invested in a new desktop to replace this older device, but some technical issues with the new build have delayed her ability to switch over. This is expected to be resolved soon, with the only major impact being on her ability to continue progress on the content that we have set aside for streams.

We'll be sure to update everyone when our art development streams resume. Nevertheless, it is full steam ahead into the new year!

#dappervolk #updates #gamedev

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belabee · 5 years

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Productivity Master Post

So, I realized recently that I’ve tried a lot of different things to try to manage my executive dysfunction. Not all of them have worked for me and some of them I’ve tried and love but can’t find a way to make it actually fit into my general life schedule, or tried and didn’t really like at all.

I figured I’d share them. The ones that worked, the ones that didn’t, and the ones that I love but don’t know how to yet implement. Since everyone’s different and what works/doesn’t work for me, might work for others.

This will get updated as I remember things/try new things/etc. Each of the things will have links so you can take a look into them yourselves :)

Right now I’m just listing them out - I’ll probably edit this and do some pros and cons as well.

I’m gonna put it under the cut though cuz it’ll probably get loooong

I’ll start off with some Productivity Methods

Getting Things Done

Book by David Allen

Process:

1) Collect tasks

2) Process

3) Organize

4) Plan

5) Do

What started me on trying to figure out a productivity system for myself. In my experience, each person’s system looks different. It’s all just based on what works for you.

The two main concepts that I got out of GTD are

Being specific with my tasks with what needs to be done and when and by whom

Reflecting and Strategic Reviews: Looking at my system and seeing where my bottlenecks are, coming up with solutions, and being specific about it

Pomodoro Technique

Time management technique developed by Francesco Cirillo

This one I will swear by forever. Basically it helps me focus on my tasks. The typical Pomodoro technique looks like: 25 mins of Focused Work time (1 pomodoro “pomo”), 5 minute break, and then after 4 pomodoros - one long break.

Can be used to help you focus with anything - writing, cleaning, homework, anything that might end up taking a long time.

I use Complice and the Captains log to help me with this one.

Captain’s Log

A self-reflection method that I learned from the founder of Complice (linked above)

Basically if I’m doing a pomo, and I find myself getting distracted, or I said I’d do a thing and I find that I’m not doing it - I’ll whip out my captain’s log and note down what distracted me or what’s getting in my way of doing the thing.

I tend to use this when I’m doing my weekly/ review to help troubleshoot what I should try in the upcoming week or if there’s other areas that I need to work on first before doing the thing.

Eisenhower Decision Matrix (aka the Urgent-Important matrix)

This one helped me out a lot at school. Basically it’s a 4-quadrant decision making system that helps organize and prioritize tasks. The 4 quadrants are:

Urgent-Important

Less urgent-Important

Urgent - Less important

Less urgent - Less important

Eat That Frog

an Anti-procrastination method

Concept of doing the least pleasant very important thing first, or if there are multiple unpleasant important things - do the biggest one first.

So far, I’ve found it works best if I add some social accountability to it - like, letting someone know that this is a Frog for me, and I will do it today.

Things that work for me/I’m currently using:

Complice.co

https://complice.co/?r=ael4x5dmam (gonna plug my referral link :P )

This one I use to sort out my projects and goals. I currently have 8 goals - 2 of them are work related, and the rest are personal goals. When I was in school, I had a different goal for each course I was taking

Basically you list out what you want to get done on your goals that day - your “Intentions” - and at the end of each day you check off what you got done - your “Outcomes”

Complice has ready made spaces for weekly and monthly and yearly reflections, as well as integrated Pomodoro options and coworking rooms.

They also have a Goal-Crafting Intensive Workshop that they do at the beginning of the year which I found super useful and highly recommend.

Passion Planner / Bullet Journaling

I only recently discovered bullet journaling, but I’m finding that I like the method because it can be as simplistic or as all-encompassing as you want/need. It appeals to the wouldbe-crafter in me, and I love stylizing my monthly/weekly layouts.

Passion Planner I’ve been using since I was in school. I find that that it works well with Complice, and provides me with an easy portable hard copy of my Tasks and Goals and Reflections. I used to be very online about my GTD system and relied heavily on my smartphone to manage my system. Over the years I’ve discovered that I get distracted way too easily using my phone for it to really be my main productivity management item

A con to bullet journaling:

Super easy to get lost on pinterest, instagram, etc., looking for inspiration for your layouts. I’ve wasted many a day doing this :P

Habitica

Gamifying your tasks and habits. Basically - you’re a character in an RPG, you gain points and gold for completing your ToDos, Daily Habits, and

I find that it helps with providing a certain level of social accountability (Guilds, Challenges, and Parties)

Workflowy

https://workflowy.com/invite/ff47f75.lnx (another referral link plug :P)

Started using this one when I started bullet journaling, it helps that it integrates well with Complice.

What I currently do - I use Workflowy to collect my tasks for the individual goals that I’ve laid out in Complice, and then I put what I need to get done Today into my day’s Intentions on Complice.

Beeminder

Accountability that stings.

Basically, I make a commitment, I lay my credit card on it, and if I don’t do the thing that I said I’d do - I get charged for it.

Provides pretty graphs to see your progress on doing the thing, is basically a free service if you do the things you said you’d do.

Super helpful for eating frogs - if I can’t motivate myself to eat the frog on my own - you can bet that I’m more likely to do the thing if it means that it’s gonna take it out of my credit card.

Super good if punishment motivates you more than reward does.

IFTTT - If This, Then That

Love this service. It syncs services to other services that might not have a good integration with your fave apps on their own.

Works well with Google Home devices

Google - Gmail, Calendar, Drive (Docs, etc.), Hangouts, Groups

Our overlord has so many things - tbf, it’s competing with Microsoft Office, so it’s kinda gotta.

Gmail can integrate with so many different apps and services, and can be used for a GTD management system as well.

Calendar - my favourite part is that it’s shareable. When I did shared living, I could easily know my household’s schedule without having to ask them every time. I’m also polyam, so when I had multiple partners and was living with half of them - it made scheduling time together easy.

Hangouts - super useful for staying in touch with peeps. It’s been phased out of my life a little with the introduction of Discord. and I hear that Google might be actually discontinuing it soon (just like they did with Inbox - I’m still mad about that)

Groups - I mostly use this in my inbox. But good as a forum option. I know of shared house dynamics who use this to stay up to date with each other - do house announcements (i.e. when the plumber will be here, etc.) This one has also been phased out with Discord for me

Discord

Great communication service for groups - I haven’t explored it’s integration options fully - but I definitely like it better than Slack

I currently use it for my house (in addition to various fandom groups) - to let my family know if we need to buy x grocery/house item, or let them know I’ll be going away for the weekend, or won’t be home on time for dinner etc., I also use it with my IRL friends - we use it to plan get-togethers, share memes, etc.

I think most peeps know about this already - but shoot me an ask if I need to elaborate more.

Things I’ve tried but haven’t been able to successfully implement

Asana

A teams/group project task manager - used it when I use to do group living (i.e. a bunch of roommates). I’ve found it less useful now that I live with my family - mostly because it’s doesn’t mesh well with my family dynamic - but I can see how other families could make it work.

Trello

good project board - but it’s definitely more of a teams thing - or a group project thing. I haven’t been able to make it work for my own personal projects and goals. But that might be because of how my brain visualizes tasks - so it might work for others.

RememberTheMilk

This integrates super well with David Allen’s Getting Things Done.

I’ve found that it was good when I was using my phone as my main productivity management item - but I’ve found it less useful now that I use my passion planner.

if you purchase the Pro subscription you can use the location tags to get reminded of tasks when you’re at a certain location (i.e. reminded to submit x paperwork when you get to your head office, reminded to buy x item when you’re at or near x store)

Works well with Google assistant as well so if you have a Google Home device, you can sync your reminders.

Slack

Communication service for teams, groups.

different channels etc.

Good integration with different services (see Beeminder in particular)

I don’t find it as intuitive as Discord though. But I know tons of groups find it helpful and useful for planning and organizing.

Microsoft Office365 (Outlook, Teams, Sharepoint)

A lot of businesses, organizations, etc., use these - but I find that unless you’re pretty tech savvy already, learning how to use it is pretty hard. It’s not the most userfriendly and it definitely doesn’t play well with others. If you don’t already have an Office365 account it won’t work well for you, and everyone on your team needs to have an Office365 account too. Not to mention you need to have the appropriate Office365 subscription to get access to all the best apps.

But if you do have the money and everyone on your team has an Office365 account, it’s super useful - Sharepoint is great for sharing info to the team, sharing and editing documents, integrates well with Teams which now has a Shifts app (which replaces the old StaffHub app). Teams is good for having the more informal chats with the team.

I find that if you know how to use all the apps and services, it makes it super easy to work at any location. I have multiple locations at my work - and I find it really easy to continue working even if I’m not at my main desk.

#productivity #executive dysfunction #tips and tricks

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fictionerd · 6 years

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Chapter One: Out of Time Entry #3

“Grief is a powerful Motivator” - Rose

---Last Seed, 18th, 4E 201--- Well, the petty larceny went off without a hitch. I figure this "Brand Shei" fellow will be out of a cell by tomorrow morning once bureaucracy grinds itself out. Of course maybe the legal system has become draconian while I slept.

Speaking of sleep. I'd best get used to sleeping in the afternoons. Limit the time I spend in the sun until I find a workaround for that particular weakness.

I know the way I'v e been writing about this makes me seem flippant about the situation. I'm really not. It's eating away at the back of my mind, what I did to Grelod. The way it felt was- I don't really want to talk about it. If it had been traumatic that would be one thing. The problem is that the experience really wasn't. I guess that's the point. Who'd want to continue to live as a vampire if feeding scarred them mentally and emotionally?

Anyway. To bed I suppose. T'is good for mine complexion. Wouldn't want to burn my lovely skin.

Nope. It didn't make me feel better.

>I find myself facing a dilemma. Brynjolf offered to let me join his "organization". I'm one-hundred percent certain he means the thieves guild.

My dilemma is this: Being what I am it'd be a good idea to learn Skyrim's underground. I hold no illusions that I'll be able to indefinitely lead an above-board life. There will likely be times and reasons I need to duck out fo sight.

On the other hand: Sleighting a ring from some one's strongbox into some one else's pocket almost as a prank is one thing. I'm actively considering becoming a thief. I don't have a moral problem with the idea per se, but I'm uncertain if that's a road I want to travel.

Are the risks worth it? I just don't know.

I suppose I'll put the decision on hold. I should probably head back toward Windhelm and let Aretino know Grelod is dead. I may not have intended to fulfill his contract, but since it's done he may as well know so he can return to his friends here.

---Last Seed, 19th, 4E 201--- I fed again. As I was heading out to collect a bounty I felt the hunger start to grow again. Not wanting to go back to the starved state I awoke in I took full advantage when I found the bandit leader asleep in Nilheim. I could have stopped short of killing him, but since I was there to take his head anyway I allowed myself to indulge once more.

I need to not make a habit of that if I can help it. At some point restraint is going to be necessary. I can hear my mother in my head now.

"People live so that they can indulge themselves. The trick is learning when and when not to let yourself go."

>I've sat staring at this page for five minutes. I just remembered a detail about my childhood. I remembered my mother even for a brief moment. I remembered her face.

[Tear stains can be seen on the page]

Are my memories returning as I feed? Or is something else causing them to return?

> I slept fairly peacefully after my last entry. I face another evening now. Night stretches out before me. I've been in Riften two or three days now and no one has come to drag me off to prison so I guess I'm good to go. I'll head up to Windhelm tonight to give my report to Aretino.

I could buy a horse, but I think I'll stick to carriages for the moment. It just feels better to have human company whenever I can.

>I sit now recording this in Candlehearth hall. I arrived in Windhelm after some winding road travel north. It didn't take long all things considered, and the carriage driver was good company. Aretino was beyond pleased that I'd completed his request. I actually sat and talked with the boy for a little bit afterward. He told me he wanted to be an assassin when he grew up so he could help all kinds of kids just like me.

I thought that was precious. I know that most people wouldn't feel that way, but to me that sentiment was cute. Cute and oddly nostalgic. Did I want to be an assassin when I was younger? I think I did. Really the muscle memory I possess for fighting and the spells I could remember when I woke up seem to support the idea.

I had to have trained with very specific instruction to learn how to sneak around with several pounds of steel strapped to my back in the form of a honkin greatsword. Maybe the answers I'm looking for about my past will lie with the Dark Brotherhood?

It was mention of them that drew me to Aretino in the first place. The thought has merit. Unfortunately I don't have the slightest clue how to go about finding the brotherhood so I'll just keep trudging for now.

Getting familiar with Skyrim's underground just got a lot more appealing though.

---Last Seed, 20th, 4E 201--- I did not expect to enter the Windhelm hall of the dead of my own free will. At least not anytime soon.

After my last entry I decided to have a walk around the city, take in the night air, that sort of thing. I happened to be walking through the graveyard when I come upon the site of a murder. The victim was Susanna the Wicked from Candlehearth. I remember her from the night I first woke up. She actually flirted with me a little bit. I recall thinking that was a tad strange. Not unwelcome just strange.

Now she's dead, and unlike me she's not getting back up again without some necromantic assistance. So I decided to investigate. Got permission from the Jarl's steward and everything. I'm officially investigating a murder. Isn't that ironic?

The lady in charge of the Hall of the Dead only noted that the wounds seemed to have been inflicted with embalming tools. Specifically ancient nordic ones. I'd say that safely rules out most of the city's populace as the culprit. Now to find out the scholarly and eccentric types and narrow it down to one from there. Unless we're dealing with a secret cabal of killers all united by their love of embalming implements.

Helgird, the lady in charge here, looked at me funny because I giggled as that last thought crossed my mind. I think I'm developing a morbid sense of humor. Best get back out into the cold and track down my next lead. Shouldn't be any trouble. I've become very good at following blood trails recently.

>Suspicious, old, locked mansion? I do believe we have found ourselves a killer's lair. Wonder what the going rate in town is? I might need one in the forseeable future after all.

>Bingo! A journal discussing the exquisite nature of Susanna's tendons? Amid rablings about sources for flesh, blood, and other such things? Looks like I'm definitely on the right track. Let's see what else I find.

>Now THIS is interesting. A strange amulet found among a pile of these "Beware the Butcher" papers. Seems the killer has been tearing these down. Bad idea if you ask me. They're sort of asking to be caught doing something like that. What's their excuse for it? I doubt it'd stand up to scrutiny.

>And that's a necromantic ritual sight hidden behind a false cupboard. Shit. What have I gotten into here?

>Spoke to the steward about the clues I found in the spooky old mansion. He referred me to a "Viola Giordano" for the Butcher pamphlets and "Calixto" for the amulet. Let's get cracking we have a murder to solve and the sun's coming up.

>Spoke to Giordano about the Butcher's journals. She suspects a fellow by the monicker "Wuunferth the Unliving". If you ask me that's a bit too on-the-nose.

>All roads lead to Wuunferth it seems. According to Callixto the amulet is "The Wheelstone". It's a piece belonging to the court wizard of Windhelm. That'd be our boy the Unliving. I don't like Calixto though. He offered to buy the amulet off me. Ceremonial or not that doesn't seem like a good idea. Especially if the piece is as well-known as his attitude seemed to imply.

I could go to the steward with all this, but I believe I'll talk to Wuunferth directly. If he IS the killer and tries to make a move I'm confident five feet of steel will be enough to dissuade him. Especially at close quarters.

>The Necromancer's Amulet, eh? I think I'm going to go sell this to Calixto after all. Unless I miss my guess it'll be back in my hands again by midnight.

Needless to say my encounter with Wuunferth went well. He's an agreeable old chap in his own way. If he turns out to have set me up it's going to be a real let-down. I don't think he is though. Call it instinct. He has the air of a predator, or at the very least a formiddable presence. He doesn't strike me as a giggling maniac mumbling about flesh magic and killing young girls for spare parts.

>He wasn't home. Too bad. Well I guess I'll have a meal (a normal one) at Candlehearth and sleep the day away. Tonight I catch me a killer.

>And so Calixto, the Butcher, is laid low. I suppose any future reader of this journal will wonder how it is I knew Calixto was my man. Well it's quite simple, really. The idiot was displaying a set of the embalming tools he used to dismember the young women he killed right in plain sight in his little museum.

If Helgird had been the culprit she wouldn't have clued me in about the tools. If Wuunferth had been the killer why would he set me loose to patrol the city rather than quietly be rid of me while we were alone in his study?

All that being said I still wasn't absolutely certain. So I did patrol the city and spotted Calixto in the market as he drew steel to kill someone. I cast a Fury spell on him drawing his attention away long enough for his intended victim and a newly-arrived guard to fall on him. I may have also helped a bit. Now he lies dead in the snow and I feel satisfied with my work here.

Checked his little museum over after he died. Found his last journal. Seems he was trying to resurrect his sister. That's a motivation I can understand. I don't agree with it. Especially since he was building her a patchwork body of about ten or so people, but I get it. Grief is a powerful motivator. Let's hope it doesn't sink its claws into me.

#Skyrim #Character Journal #Take Notes! Mod

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marlutterianae · 6 years

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Magic and Elixirs. Elements of Viorg.

- Extracted from the Magal Archives -

Viorg is a land gifted with numerous peculiarities, anomalies and unique phenomena that can be considered both fantastical and marvelous, and yet so deadly and unpredictable. As scholars, it is difficult to keep up with many of the changes occuring in each part of our world, and beyond. But one thing is for certain. We can only be grateful to the various elements unique to this distorted place, which we’ve been able to harness and control for our benefit in order to secure our survival and outstand the overwhelming odds against our kind.

We call them Elements mainly because they have become crucial components of nature as we know it. Despite being considered as “unnatural” things in the eyes of the outsiders. It’s hard for said outsiders to accept what passes as normality in this world. Of course, some curious travelers, now inhabitants of the realms, have less of an issue with it than others.

The first and most important element to the entire continent are the elixirs. The origins of the first alchemical formulas trace back to the foundations of the ancient all powerful empire of Berelith. Used to create substances that granted humanity with an extended life, flourish awareness and break the limits of the mind. Different elixirs with new and marvelous effects in the body would soon follow. The old alchemists of Berelith worked together with the vicious demons for a strange mutual gain. The details and logistics behind this alliance are still under research and debate. As for the elixirs, it’s core component are well known to many. It is processed out of demon blood. But not just any blood, at first. It was a holy source, incomparable to anything on this planet. It was the sacred heart of a demonic deity. The one that cursed this land after crashing into it. Intact, still beating. A colossal super organ that seems to have a will of it’s own. Numerous discoveries would follow after that. Brand new formulas, that led to the development of more elixirs that gave humans more incredible physical and mental attributes.

This was a source of potentially infinite power for the Berelith empire, but after the catastrophe that destroy it completely at the hands of the demons, our ancestors from the tribe of Dorok managed to transport the Heart in a perilous journey across the entire continent. Many lives were lost in the process, but eventually the Heart was secured in the safety of the West, where we started building our mighty cities. The first of which was the impenetrable capital of Murgul, named after the ancient and forgotten term for “Heart”. The sacred source lies hidden in the deepest depths of the Royal Keep, even lower than the Magal Laboratories, in a special vault. The most treasured artifact in our possession. There it lies, guarded, far from any demon’s reach. And it is there where our experiments with elixirs carried on, continuing that legacy of Berelith. We did not only improve on the known formulas, but we started to look further than that. Every child of Dorok was granted with them. All of Viorg’s inhabitants have elixirs coursing through their veins. After all, t is impossible to survive in this land without resorting to them.

Murgul serves its purpose as the literal heart of the realm. Surrounded by numerous cities that need to be provided not only with crucial resources, tools and means to survive and defend themselves against the demons, but also their regular supply of elixirs. We are still working on perfecting the replenishment routes throughout all the sectors around the capital, in order to maintain order. The Guilds of Demon Slayers receive their regular supply, but also the newest inventions to aid in the fight. Elixirs that could provide unique attributes like sensorial and muscular enhancers, pain nullification, advance cell regeneration, amplifiers of intellectual capacities; among many, many other specialized uses. Perfectioning the known formulas, modifying them and creating more at a regular basis. It is a very tough task for the alchemists guilds, but one they are proud to be part of.

However, not all Elixirs are easily accessible as others, or easily provided to be more specific. The Prosperity Elixir, for example, is one which production seems to be the most laborious and complex, despite of how old the formula is; according to the archives. For this reason it can only be distributed across Murgul’s territory and no further. This of course led to the population of Murgul having their lives drastically extended, which altered their ways of living. Being in the most secured metropolis in the entire kingdom also contributes to this difference in lifestyles, unlike the cities around it, especially those further away from the capital, and closest to the Frontier diving Dorok and Berelith. Some discontent is expected from the citizens of these sectors, and led to the formation of prejudices and disdain against those that live and come from the capital, being considered imperious and weak, particularly for not even facing demon attacks as frequently as those from the distant sectors. And that their safe overly extended lives makes them apathetic to the problems of those that are not from Murgul.

Elixirs such as the Healing ones are easier to produce in mass, and have been continuously perfected throughout the years. It has the most versatile means of application. It can be conventionally drank or injected, depending on how fast the reaction is required. It can be distilled into a gaseous form and by supplied through breathing devices. As well as be condensed in spraying mechanisms for a more focused and immediate effect over specific wounds. The regenerative elixirs are one of the most important tools in demon slaying, and each guild has it’s branch of medical experts ready to assist, highly trained in the applications of these substances in the heat of battle.

But despite how miraculous these healing elixirs may appear, even capable of regrowing lost limbs entirely, there is one type of damage they are not able to remedy. And that is magical damage. Any sort of harm or wound produced by magical energy cannot be healed not even with the most advance of regenerative elixirs. The destructive effect magic has on organic tissue is still researched and speculated to this day, and even then the Wizards had concluded that only magic can bring back what was lost with magic. Which makes it even more complicated, considering that ‘healing magic’ is a rare phenomenon among Wizards, and even Witches, according to reports. They still look for individuals capable of performing this miraculous type of spell, but nothing has yet come out of the investigations.

For this very reason it is quite common to see anyone experienced with magic bearing grotesque and strange scars across their entire bodies. Signs of power overflowing, so to speak. Leaving marks in their bodies almost as grim reminders of what they are trying to control. Crippled by a magical explosion? Those limbs are lost forever. Blinded by magical sparks or a flashing spell? The eyes would end lifeless, and most probably will have to be removed, leaving only empty scarred sockets. Indeed, this only applies for organic material that was directly affected by magic. It must be clarified that if magic didn’t directly caused the burning or mutation of any organic material, the damage will remain natural, and therefore fixable by conventional means. Said, if you would be violently pushed by a magical force wave, resulting in the breaking of some bones; unless some of the magical radiation damaged your body, usually in the form of burning, rotting or melting, there is a chance to be well healed.

Magic is known as the second most important element present in Viorg. And rightfully so, originating from the very home dimension of the demons. The Orrnox. While a lot of information regarding magic is still quite complex and under investigation, it can be mention how we managed to control some of that energy not only through living catalyzers, being the Wizards, but also through advanced technology. Magic, in one of its most manipulable forms is that categorized as “Orrnix Energy”. A sort of meta plasma that can hold vast amounts of energy, emitting large amounts of supernatural heath. The applications for this state of the magical force are still under development, but some already theorize on it’s applications, like implement it in the creation of new weaponry, like concentrated plasma cannons or mechanized constructs controlled telepathically. Or even being capable of supplying entire cities with this energy, as well as emitting a force field around them. The possibilities appear to be endless, but they must be dealt with carefully, or else we would want to replicate a cataclysm similar to that of Berelith. And that must be absolutely avoided.

- - -

Magic systems! Yay. Half ironic cheering aside, this is my most detailed entry into this world yet, and how couldn’t it be? It’s about the two most important ELEMENTS of this world. Magic and the ever mentioned Elixirs. Considering that the prompt of today was Elements, I choose what “elements” are the most crucial in this world. This was a very fun one because I have so much to say on the matter, and you can tell. I’ll be deeply grateful if you go through the entire thing. Anyway, there is more to know about this world to come. Let’s get to it!

#magic #worldbuilding #fantasy #alchemy #demons #wizards #writing #elixir

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thoughtsonargentdawn · 3 years

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On the matter of “claiming land”

We’ve all seen this happen, we may have been involved, or even perpetrated it in our inexperience. I myself in my younger days got tied up in the courtly politics of Silvermoon on the issue. Roleplayers have always wanted a little “area” as their own to say - ‘this is our patch, we control this zone’. The problem is that in such an environment where the physical limitations of the game systems simply mean players have to share the vast majority of the game world with other players - the nature of an mmo after all - this is exceedingly difficult to do without causing some sort of problem, some beef or even a vendetta between groups. These problems are more associated with guilds that have more of an explicit claim to power over implicit, though not exclusively. Examples are primarily those tied to a certain zone - Guards/Grunts/Military themed guilds generally claim an area as their “protection” zone. Historical and recent range from the Barracks in Orgrimmar, the Town Hall of Darkshire and Lakeshire, City Hall in Stormwind, along with the Command Center, the Temple of Blood and Sunfury Spire within Silvermoon City. Now from the point of view of the guilds in question and in trying to rationalise this myself they would claim that as their roleplay involves the defence and general protection of that particular area, town, settlement or building they would obviously take some sort of ownership. The issue is when this ownership then translates into exclusionary measures. I am sure you’ve all experienced the power fantasy guilds of guardsmen, grunts and the like making human - or orc, or elf - walls to deny “access” or impose “martial law” - good lord grant me strength - in a particular area. They claim that they are “providing” roleplay for people in doing this. As you may recall I’ve already covered the flaws of being a “provider” of roleplay in this previous post. Flaws aside, the other main problem with this is their roleplay is predicated on assuming other characters are already opted-in to their system. All roleplay is based on consensus, despite what anyone else may say that that their way is better or another persons is wrong or “degenerate” for engaging in another type, I pay a subscription, you pay a subscription, we all pay the same. So attempting to exclude players from an area or - in more extreme cases, entire zones - over some concocted “authority” is complete nonsense. Be the guild in question a Guard/Military guild, or some other self-authority granted guild such as ones claiming to represent part of a state body, or as is more common those claiming some sort of aristocratic privilege - ie. house guilds - that means they can “own” an area insomuch as their roleplay dictates, of course the easy solution is you could just be facetious and claim your own roleplay idea contravenes their supposed authority though this rarely leads to anything more than dull and cyclical drama that just wears down the parties involved. The obvious solution is for reaching that consensus, a give and take from both sides, dialogue as to mean there is limited trouble in the future. Lamentably however in this current year such things are almost non-existent. Those roleplaying in a similar environment or idea who do not fit into a particular group’s ideal paradigm are pressured into compliance with the mob pack, if this does not work then the tried and tested tools of undermining ranging from blatant sabotage - either through direct means, looking at the likes of you Mr Stonemug - or indirect means, rumour spreading and forging of false evidence to tarnish the non-compliant party all the way to emotional and psychological manipulation of others through all manner of social engineering techniques. It is surprising how many guild leaders treat their position as a sacrosanct place that cannot be assailed by criticism, the previous post on the circumstances that may lead a player into this type of mindset elaborates more on this. To conclude, this issue will always remain a present problem in the server community, unlike places like WRA and MG where there is a general consensus building process about what is considered lore and canon. Argent Dawn completely lacks this with its dogged insistence on atomising itself into various small closed off cliques that treat one another as mutual and hostile threats over potential partners to make stories with. Why this is the case is the topic for another discussion (More individualism, ego? Who knows). A solution from Blizzard -for the short term- could be the implementation of controlled “RP phases” where people who wish to engage in a particular avenue of RP in that place at that time could toggle a phase and jump into it. This has worked extremely effectively on privately ran RP servers. Now the naysayers may say this will only lead to further segregation and atomisation. I say however, considering the general breakdown in the willingness to compromise and discuss things rationally -look at the official forums for example- there is going to be no player led drive to mending the gap any time soon. Short of Blizzard forcibly banning key figures on the server responsible for driving the quasi-cult of personality, crypto-fascist element modes of leadership -which itself would be a hard task with blizzard’s current state of community managers- minimisation of the issue is the best I think we can hope for. A longer term solution would be something akin to how other popular MMOs have implemented various tiers of player or guild housing in the likes of The Elder Scrolls Online or Final Fantasy XIV.

#roleplaying #World of Warcraft #moderation #communities #military roleplay #house roleplay #noble roleplay #ownership in roleplay

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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How Saving Private Ryan’s Best Picture Loss Changed the Oscars Forever

https://ift.tt/3shvKln

Saving Private Ryan’s loss of the Best Picture Oscar in 1999 still hurts. It’s a sentiment shared by many, and not just because of the disappointment they experienced when Shakespeare in Love took home that night’s top prize. After all, there have been plenty of upsets before and since. Just ask Brokeback Mountain’s producers about Crash, or La La Land’s about Moonlight. If Orson Welles was still alive, the stories he’d surely have to tell about How Green is My Valley.

Yet when it comes to Steven Spielberg’s seminal World War II epic losing to an amusing (if somewhat lightweight) romantic comedy, never before had there been an upset so fundamentally unexpected that it changed the way awards were won; and never before had a generally celebrated studio hit with frontrunner status run into the political machinations of Harvey Weinstein. The Oscars would never be the same.

Released in July 1998, Saving Private Ryan opened during a peak of renewed interest in the generation of Americans who endured the Great Depression and then won World War II, transforming the U.S. into a superpower. Later in the same year as Saving Private Ryan, Tom Brokaw’s book The Greatest Generation would popularize the term used by its title to describe their sacrifice. But by the time that was published, Spielberg had already given the idea visual form for younger audiences.

With an intense commitment to realism and authenticity, the director’s use of shaky handheld photography and brutally unsentimental depictions of violence were shocking in 1998. The opening sequence, centered on the D-Day landing, especially evoked documentary filmmaking, creating horror so visceral it would soon change the way war movies were shot. In that specific moment, however, all this suffering made the sacrifice of the film’s heroes—eight American soldiers sent behind enemy lines to bring one paratrooper home—appear Herculean.

The film was a massive blockbuster hit, back when $482 million worldwide was considered massive and blockbusters could be about more than superheroes and space wizards. Going forward there was little doubt in most conventional Oscar watchers’ minds that Spielberg had his second Best Picture Oscar sewn up.

Come Oscar night though, Spielberg picked up the Best Director Oscar (his second after Schindler’s List) while John Madden’s Shakespeare in Love left audiences at home surprised by taking the top award, alongside its wins for Best Actress, Best Supporting Actress, Best Original Screenplay, and Best Score… the latter two also at Saving Private Ryan’s expense.

Unto itself Shakespeare in Love is a charming film, essentially a backstage dramedy with literary pedigree. Ostensibly a fictionalized origin story for how the Bard got the idea for Romeo and Juliet, the film inserts insider Hollywood humor into an Elizabethan setting while also offering a lush romance between old Will and his personal Juliet (or Twelfth Night’s Violet, depending on the scene). It can be a sweet movie, but until 1998, it was not the kind of film that won Best Picture. In fact, most of the biggest winners of the ‘90s had been widely popular studio blockbusters: Titanic dubiously beat L.A. Confidential the year before; Braveheart beat Sense and Sensibility in 1996; and the year prior to that saw Forrest Gump defeat the Quentin Tarantino trailblazer, Pulp Fiction.

That latter case of popularity beating indie credibility was perhaps the most important to 1999, since that year’s conventional, feel-good Tom Hanks vehicle not only beat out a critical darling, but it beat a film produced by Miramax Films, a then-speciality arm of Disney which was originally founded (and still run) as an indie distributor by Bob and Harvey Weinstein. You likely know the latter’s name.

Before Harvey Weinstein became the notoriously disgraced figure of our post-#MeToo era—which culminated with his sentence to 23 years in prison after being convicted on one count of sexual assault in the first degree and one count of rape in the third degree—he reigned in Hollywood with impunity. And his throne room was the Oscar stage. Unlike other studios, Weinstein’s made the accruement of Oscars the centerpiece of its release strategy, building prestige and attention off award wins, and transforming that into belated box office dollars. The process redefined what an “Oscar Movie” looked like: they generally became smaller budgeted, less seen, and often greenlit with (if not written for) Academy voters’ preconceived tastes in mind.

Shakespeare in Love beating Saving Private Ryan was the turning point that implemented this sea change.

When the Weinstein-produced comedy first screened for Academy voters in December 1998, the movie was met by a reportedly cool reception, signaling the film would have a small impact on the year’s Oscar race. However, as detailed by Rebecca Keegan and Nicole Sperling’s intricate reporting in Vanity Fair, Weinstein’s pioneering Oscar campaign for that movie would become his “bully masterpiece.”

Prior to Shakespeare in Love’s win, Oscar campaigns were generally a cordial, good old boys affair. There would be industry screenings for Academy voters and the guilds, of course, and promotions in trade newspapers that would provide “For Your Consideration” pullout ads. However, Weinstein more or less invented the relentless months-long Oscar campaign that ends in February, but can begin as early as September.

Previously, promoting a movie for a filmmaker or actor might include appearing on talk shows ahead of the week of release, and doing a weekend of junket interviews. But after Shakespeare in Love, if a film had Oscar prospects it became an almost weekly obligation of appearing at screenings, participating in countless Q&As, and glad-handing at parties with awards voters. In fact, Academy voters got in trouble in ’98 for attending Weinstein’s “Welcome to America” party at New York’s posh Elaine’s restaurant—it was in honor of British Shakespeare in Love director, John Madden.

“It all began with Harvey,” one publicist told Vanity Fair. “I don’t remember ever feeling pressure like that from other studios. He was like, ‘Can you do these radio call-ins all morning?’ He calls the clients directly and guilts them. He really is a beast.”

Former Miramax executive Mark Gill described it as the movie’s release as being only an opening salvo for the publicity requirements placed on actors at the studio. “That was just ‘Good morning,’” said Gill. “You’ve got three months of shaking hands and kissing babies in you.”

Back in 1999, there was of course some resistance to this style of aggressively brazen schmoozing. Chief among the skeptics was Spielberg, the director of Saving Private Ryan and a Hollywood legend who didn’t feel the need to essentially beg for trophies.

“I said [to Steven Spielberg], ‘Listen, this is what’s going on,’” recalled Terry Press, a marketer then working at Spielberg’s DreamWorks Pictures. “Steven said to me, ‘I do not want to get down in the mud with Harvey.’”

TCM host Ben Mankiewicz also recalled these events when Den of Geek spoke with him several years ago.

Said Mankiewicz, “Spielberg was urged to counter… and Spielberg being a normal, well-adjusted good person who believed in the process [said] ‘No, I’m not going to campaign for my movie. I’ll do promotions for my movie, but I’m not going to try and charm people and send them things so they vote for my movie.’”

Meanwhile Miramax started a whisper campaign saying everything good about Saving Private Ryan occurred within the first 15-20 minutes on the beaches of Normandy, and the rest was sentimental hokum. It worked. Spielberg did not campaign like it’s the Monday before election day, and Weinstein did.

Movies

Saving Private Ryan: The Real History That Inspired the WW2 Movie

By David Crow

Movies

How the Secret of Saving Private Ryan’s Power Lies in its Portrayal of the Enemy

By Mark Allison

While Weinstein is thankfully gone, the crude lessons learned by Shakespeare in Love’s win over Saving Private Ryan are not. Awards seasons generally begin in early September with the Venice Film Festival and the Toronto International Film Festival acting as unofficial clearinghouses for studios and distributors to showcase their most award-friendly wares. It then continues with each film being released between October and December, mounting months-long rollouts that never really end until Oscar night.

Coupled with corporate studio interests leaning evermore heavily on “four-quadrant” blockbusters that are built on franchises, this system has created an environment where Oscar movies are often little-seen limited releases, and mainstream populist films are more concerned with superpowers than prestige. While the actual type of movies nominated for Best Picture appear to be gradually changing—from more diversity among the winners like Moonlight and Parasite to even superhero movies like Black Panther and Joker now getting nods—the generally accepted wisdom that Oscar movies and popular movies are mutually exclusive remains intact.

In other words, the studios rarely make movies like Saving Private Ryan anymore, and what is making big money is not the type of film to end up on “Best of the Year” lists come December. But even when there are exceptions to the rule, and studios let auteurs make a Dunkirk or a 1917, the filmmakers will still be spending months in what Spielberg once called “the mud.”

“It ranks pretty low in the list of lousy things that Harvey Weinstein did, they’re terrible what Harvey Weinstein did,” Mankiewicz told us. “But it’s on the list.”

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

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#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

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evanvanness · 4 years

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Annotated edition for the June 14, 2020, Week in Ethereum News

It was a bit of a slow week on the Ethereum front. Last week’s glut of layer2 was a bit lighter this week.

The Eth2 multi-client testnet was quite stable and they’re going to be spinning up a new one (mildly different spec, so new testnet). Prysmatic has their own testnet and they launched a new one

If you’re a dev, then you probably already know about how ethers v5 is out, though the blog post is still forthcoming.

$COMP mining is happening now. See below.

Finally, Bank Frick is offering customers the option to use USDC instead of SWIFT for cheaper and faster transfers. A glimpse of the future.

Also, this newsletter now has a jobs section! The ads certainly aren’t cheap, but it beats paying $20,000 to a headhunter. I’ve had the idea for a long time, but generally thought I’d have a recruiting side business. But ultimately job listings feels more natural for me than being a recruiter.

Here’s the most clicked for the week:

Hasu tweeted to his audience of mostly bitcoiners, “Elastic blocksize caps and congestion control systems could become an important building block in securing Bitcoin post block subsidy.” That’s an interesting argument, but can anyone even imagine it happening though? Can’t see Blockstream ever agreeing to it, so at best a bitcoin fork could put it in.

Every week I mention a few higher level articles for Eth holders:

Analysis of EIP1559 (fee market change) from Hasu and Georgios Konstantopoulos

A framework to compare and evaluate layer2 solutions

These aren’t that high level this week, but there’s only 2 of them, so you can sacrifice quantity for quality.

In the long run, for "crypto” to be successful at any meaningful societal level, most things will happen at layer2, so you might want to have an idea about the tradeoffs in layer2 system. Matter Labs helpfully provided a framework and comparison chart.

As for 1559, it’s a big change and requires a lot of thought and testing - might get included in the hard fork at the end of the year, but it might not.

Eth1

Analysis of EIP1559 (fee market change) from Hasu and Georgios Konstantopoulos

Latest core devs call. Notes from Tim Beiko: STATICCALL likely to be repriced to 40 gas, account abstraction prototype, option 2 for EIP2565, discussion of eth2 deposit proxy contract, YOLO ephemeral testnet issues

Geth v1.9.15 includes implementations of Berlin fork EIPs

Not much to say here that wasn’t already said

Eth2

Latest what’s new in Eth2, Witti multi-client testnet quite stable, next testnet in a week called Altona

Latest Eth2 call. Notes from Ben, discussion of validator key hygiene

Prysmatic successfully launched their Onyx testnet. An updated guide to staking on Onyx

Lighthouse client update – getting to the final spec, discv5 rewrite for CPU optimization, tiny RAM use

Updating and generating Kate witnesses in amortized sqrt(n) time

An explainer for phase zero of eth2

IvanOnTech’s eth2 explainer

Protecting withdrawal keys

Most of this has no further elaboration necessary, but I love how this section slips in “updating and generating Kate witnesses in amortized sqrt(n) time” right next to high level eth2 explainers. Basically, that’s a mathy way fo explain Verkle Trees, which might replace Merkle trees if they can solve a bunch more problems.

Layer2

A framework to compare and evaluate layer2 solutions

Formally verifying state channels with TLA+

Volition: hybrid onchain/offchain data decision by users at the transaction level from StarkWare

Arguably the state channels verification post was more appropriate in the stuff for devs section.

Probably the best summary of the Volition post is their own graphic.

Volition is an interesting attempt to change the “offchain vs onchain data” paradigm. Basically, they’ll let users decide for each transaction whether they want to put the data onchain.

This newsletter is made possible by Trail of Bits!

Contract upgrades are not as safe as you think. Trail of Bits has catalogued 17 different ways that upgrades can go wrong, and built tools that help validate upgrades before you run them. Use Crytic to keep your contracts safe from these flaws.

Stuff for developers

ethers v5 is on npm, though RicMoo is still updating documentation

web3js v1.2.9 – better transaction submission tracking

Brownie and React starter tutorial

Querying your eth2 validator balance with Infura

Async event-driven app architecture with EthVigil

17 checks to make upgradeable contracts safer with Crytic

Diamond Setter manager for your Diamond Standard upradeable contracts

If you’re starting a new project, use ethers.

Other than that, stuff mostly speaks for itself I think.

Ecosystem

Transaction pool analyzer tool

Deanonymization using transaction time and gas price analysis. Use good privacy hygiene and this isn’t a problem

3 transactions with massive transaction fees (1, 2, 3). First 2 paid over 10k ETH each for a transaction fee. Lots of speculation about who screwed up and how.

Trueblocks: how accurate is Etherscan?

Zengo’s tx pool analyzer is very neat.

I don’t want to get into the speculation about what’s going on with those crazy transaction fees. Looks like some kind of bug to me; what’s odd is that they haven’t caught it.

Ethermine decided that after 4 days without having heard from them, that they were going to distribute it to their miners. It’s always been a nice part of Ethereum that pool operators have generally returned these mistake fees, so Ethermine got a bit of flak. But as a mining pool operator, you don’t want to be in the position of custodying large amounts of money for indeterminate time periods.

Now that a pool operator has distributed a large fee, you have to wonder whether that puts them in a competitive position versus other mining pools.

Immediately after publishing, I saw that security firm PeckShield claims to have identified the victim:

Enterprise

Baseline protocol explained

Baselining business process across Microsoft Dynamics and Google Sheets video

DAOs and Standards

TheLAO is extending Moloch v2 with Raid Guild’s Minion (programmatic proxy) framework for non-accredited investor baby DAOs

DAOs: governance as a service

EIP2711: Separate gas payer from msg.sender

EIP2718: Typed Transaction Envelope

It’s been interesting to see a lot of groups pick the Moloch codebase up and adapt it. If I understand it correctly, Minion is a proxy that will let the DAO vote and adopt any bit of code. Very neat, and will make the Moloch family of DAOs even more powerful.

Application layer

Unstoppable Domains launches blogs on the dweb using 3Box and IPFS. Etherscan launches BlockScan, a dweb search engine

Use Balancer pools as swing trading

a Foundation Markets technical primer, automated market makers for artists

Austrian post office returns with CryptoStamps v2

LexDAO’s personal token factory with dispute resolution via their DAO vote

Opyn now has call options

TokenSets upgraded with better rebalancing for less slippage (ahem: higher returns!)

PodsFinance: Money legos with options, lock aUSDC as collateral when selling American put options. Live on testnet

Between the publication of Week in Eth News and this annotated edition, COMP started distributing its token.

In a word: 🚀

Lots of people are now mining for COMP, because the market cap exploded up to a billion (it’s come down a bit at time of screenshot)

So people are putting their assets into Compound to get the (now quite valuable) COMP token. This screenshot from DeFiPulse shows the ETH locked has migrated to Compound

You can check how much you’d get of the $COMP token through various actions. If you start mining, be careful with your leverage!

On retrospect, I could have written much of this about Balancer last week, though it was a bit different because the Balancer token does not yet exist. $COMP exists and is on Uniswap (and presumably Balancer soon as well, though Balancer uses Coingecko data for their token distribution, which is why I suppose no one has added it at the moment)

Tokens/Business/Regulation

Bank Frick lets customers replace SWIFT with USDC for faster processing

ConsenSys starts KYC/AML compliance service

Ontario Securities Commission report on Quadriga: Gerald Cotten lost 143m trading

Tim Swanson: 40 crypto controversies to look into

Dove Mountain Data – crypto venture investor directory and their deals

Opolis live – HR/benefits solution for the US

The oddest thing about the ConsenSys compliance service is the paranoid conspiracies. It’s worth remembering that half the people got into “crypto” because, like a Rorschach test, many Bitcoiners can see conspiracy in anything.

These compliance services are a fact of life. You may not like them, but with ConsenSys increasingly an enterprise-focused company, it makes sense that they have their own compliance offering, especially since they had Alethio already built.

Speaking of regulatory bodies, the Ontario Securities Commission found that Gerald Cotten lost AT LEAST 143m, the vast majority of which was lost on his own exchange. How bad at trading do you have to be to see all the data of what people are doing on your exchange AND STILL LOSE MONEY?

General

Crypto data breaches so far in 2020

Crosstalk: Cross side channel attack on Intel CPUs; can exploit SGX

SGAxe: Cacheout attack targeting SGX

Lamphone: measure light bulb variations from up to 80 ft away to record audio conversations

Gavin Andresen: Ethereum can scale Bitcoin

Checkout the job listings below!

I saw a tweet a few weeks ago about how SGX exists so that security researchers can write papers about how they broke the “secure enclave.”

That Lamphone attack is something else though. I remain skeptical that this is something that can ever really be used, sounds a bit more like Van Eck phreaking than it does an attack likely to be pulled off in the wild.

Job Listings

Reflexer Labs (RAI): smart contract dev lead, fullstack JS dev, python/devops lead

Aave: Solidity Rockstar? let’s build the future of DeFi together [email protected]

Nomic Labs (Buidler): join our dev experience & tooling engineering team!

Chainlink: Lead Test Engineer and Senior Software Security Engineer

0x is hiring full-stack, back-end, front-end engineers + 1 data scientist

OpenZeppelin is hiring! To apply, visit: https://openzeppelin.com/jobs

Celer Network: Android developer

Trail of Bits is looking for masters of low-level security. Apply here.

Want your job listing here? $250 per line (~75 character limit including spaces), payable in ETH/DAI/USDC to evan.ethereum.eth. Questions? thecryptonewspodcast -at-gmail

Housekeeping

Follow me on Twitter @evan_van_ness to get the annotated edition of this newsletter on Monday or Tuesday. Plus I tweet most of what makes it into the newsletter.

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Permalink: https://weekinethereumnews.com/week-in-ethereum-news-june-14-2020/

Dates of Note

Upcoming dates of note (new/changes in bold):

June 15 – Gitcoin CLR matching grants begins

June 16 – deadline to apply for Gitcoin’s Kernel incubator

June 17 – Stateless Ethereum call

June 29 – Swarm first public event

Aug 2 – ENS grace period begins to end

Oct 2-Oct 30 – EthOnline hackathon

0 notes