#missed you all so much - i meant to draw so many times recently and have been too burnt out to try

[hederasgarden]

Do you have any darker thoughts about your fav ATJ characters?

Bestie, I have so many thoughts, and I’m totally blaming @otaku-girl-ao3 for this. A few weeks ago, we spent an afternoon on Discord brainstorming what the ATJ characters would be like as dark versions of themselves and how that would manifest in distinct and interesting ways.

Just a quick note—this is quite a departure from the usual content on my blog and the type of things I typically write about. Recently, I’ve been gathering the courage to explore some darker themes in my writing (I blame BookTok for introducing me to a lot of questionable tropes). Please be kind and let me know if you’d like to see more of this kind of writing from me!

Characters: Sergei Kravinoff (Kraven the Hunter), Friedrich Harding (Nosferatu), Tangerine (Bullet Train), and Ives (Tenet) Rating: Explicit, 18+ only. Dead dove, do not eat. VERY dark, depraved, and horny thoughts direct from me to you. Not all themes are tagged. Read at your own risk.  Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day.

Aaron Taylor Johnson Character Masterlist

Sergei is a meticulous planner, taking his time to observe you and learn your habits. He likely comes across you by chance—perhaps while on the job or visiting his brother. It’s your scent that first grabs his attention, but it’s not what draws him back. It’s the softness and sweetness in your demeanor, the vulnerability you exude, completely unaware of the dangers around you. You’re the easiest prey he’s ever tracked, unaware even of the most basic threats. You’re always buried in a book or your phone, headphones on at full blast. If it weren’t for his quiet intervention, you would have been robbed or worse on your way home at least twice. 

He takes you because he believes you're not meant to be on your own. You need someone to care for you, to protect you from the world that you don’t fully understand. Really, it’s lucky your paths crossed. He’s certain you’ll come to see things his way in time. Until then, he’s turned his home into a beautiful little cage for you to live in, complete with an entire library filled with your favorite books, cozy blankets to keep you warm, and all the ingredients for the meals you love to cook and enjoy. He’s done his research on what you like and he’ll bring you anything you ask for. Afterall, he’s a provider at heart.

There’s no concern of you running away. You've seen the large snow leopard that prowls around outside, and the one time you made a foolish attempt to escape, Sergei was quick to show you that he wouldn't always be so gentle or understanding. As @writercole suggested, once he has you back, he’ll also end up keeping you tethered by the ankle for a while, a lesson that if you try to run, he’ll leash you.

After you recover from that experience Sergei finds you’re a much better pet, settling into your new life and role. You start cooking for him when he's home, and willingly crawl into bed beside him, seeking out his warmth on those cold winter nights. Soon, Sergei knows you’ll be ready for the next step: starting a family of your own.

Friedrich (in a modern AU) strikes me as the type who would quietly manipulate situations to his advantage, working behind the scenes to ensure things unfold just how he wants. He’d spot you working at a cafe or store he frequently visits and, from that moment, start working on a plan to make you his.

Rather than using overt force, he’d rely on subtle pressure and gaslighting, making you doubt yourself and your choices. He’d skillfully set up circumstances to undermine you—ensuring you miss out on a job you desperately need, getting you fired, or putting you in a position where you have no choice but to turn to him. When you're at your lowest, he’ll swoop in as the savior, the one who appears to protect you. His goal is to make you dependent on him alone, carefully ensuring that when the time comes for him to make his move, you're in no position to resist. Consent would be questionable, but he'd remind you every time you hesitated that you said yes, that you asked for his help, and that you invited him in.

I can also see him isolating you from friends and family, slowly pulling you away from the support system you once had. He’d definitely be the type to love-bomb you, showering you with overwhelming attention and affection, using his money and influence to manipulate you further. 

He strikes me as a baby trapper, sabotaging your birth control or tampering with his condoms to ensure you get pregnant. He believes you'd be the perfect wife and mother—you just need his help to realize that. Once he has you, he’d be the most loving and attentive husband, always caring, but beneath that sweetness lies an unshakable belief that he knows what’s best. He’s the one who makes the decisions, subtly guiding everything with quiet confidence until, over time, the balance shifts in his favor and you start looking to him for help with even the easiest things. Despite all of this, Friedrich would likely still view himself as a good person, firmly rejecting any notion that he is abusive or in the wrong.

Tangerine is on the opposite end of the spectrum, much more inclined to use brute force and physical violence to make you understand your place. He has a short temper and struggles with impulse control, especially when you don't follow his demands. There’s no slow build-up with him—he has no time or patience for romance. The moment he sees you on the street, he decides you’re coming home with him, and that’s final. Or maybe Tangerine and Lemon are sent to kill your husband but when Tangerine sees just how sweet you are, completely unaware of who and what your husband really is, he decides to keep you for himself. After all, no one's going to miss you. They’ll assume you died in the house fire with your husband. 

Once he had you he would try and spoil you with a beautiful place to live, fine clothes and decadent food. He’d want you to look and dress a certain way for him. A darker version of him would fit the profile of a classic abuser—lashing out at you in anger, only to later show up with flowers and a hollow apology, turning the blame onto you as if you were the one who provoked it.

“Why do you have to make things so fuckin’ hard, huh?” Tangerine questions, caressing your bruised skin. “I hate when you make me do this to ya luv. You need to listen better.”

He’d definitely be the most terrifying of all the dark versions of the ATJ characters because of his unpredictability. (I do not know why but I have such a strong sense he’d pop you in the mouth/back hand you with those rings on and just….yeah.)

If Ives were to go dark, he’d likely abuse his power and authority in the workplace, targeting someone beneath him—someone who wasn’t military and who he could easily manipulate using his strength and knowledge. Maybe you’re his admin, someone he works closely with, and no one questions the fact that you’re often in his office with the door closed or staying late to finish tasks together. He’d be blunt about his intentions with you, setting clear expectations for how things would unfold. His actions would be predictable—if you were a good girl, you’d be rewarded; if you misbehaved, there would be consequences. Ives would be a steady, unyielding force, confident that, with time, you’d fall into line.

[happy74827]

Chaos Theory

[Mike Schmidt x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: When Mike's crazy schedule finally aligns with one of the so-called "parental meetings" at Abby's school, he decides to see what it's all about. Little did he know he'd come to seriously regret that.

WC: 2,590

Category: Slight Fluff

I failed an exam today, so I wrote this to cheer myself up. I still feel pretty crappy, but this was really fun to write lol.

Also if you see any grammar mistakes, no you didn’t.

『••✎••』

When it came to Abby’s school, Mike was at a disadvantage. He couldn’t go to any of the parental meetings, not because he didn’t want to, but because he was constantly doing something work-related during the time those meetings were scheduled.

It didn’t mean he wasn’t keeping an eye on her grades and school attendance. It just meant he couldn't be there for the day-to-day things. Abby was a good kid, though; she never gave him trouble about the things he missed, and she did a pretty good job of keeping her grades up and attending all her classes.

Her teacher, you, was also very understanding of his schedule and position. He wasn’t sure how many teachers would have been as patient with him as you were. It was part of the reason he had grown fond of you, though it had been a gradual process that happened mostly unbeknownst to him.

At the beginning of the year, he had only been concerned about getting Abby acclimated to her new school. She was a quiet kid, stuck to her drawings, and it was even hard for him to get her to open up sometimes. Runs in the family, apparently. But, somehow, you were able to break down the wall that had been erected around her. Abby still didn't talk all that much, but she would always come back from school with a smile on her face. So, Mike was happy.

Then, like all good things, it came crashing down like a house of cards when his work schedule finally aligned with one of the “upcoming” meetings. This one was apparently a very big deal, and it was strongly implied to show up.

He hated these things despite never going to any before, but he just knew it would be filled with nosey people asking questions about his life. His sister. His “wife.”

God, he was already annoyed. The only saving grace was that it was the last meeting before the holiday break, so once it was over, he would be free for a while. Free to do what, exactly? Work, most likely, but a guy can dream.

The bell rang, signifying the end of the school day and the start of his personal nightmare. The door to the classroom was opened by one of the school's assistants, who held a clipboard in hand and waited for the “parents” to enter the room. He had arrived earlier than the scheduled time so he could speak to the assistant and find out what the meeting would entail, and already he knew it was a bad idea coming in here.

The woman was a nosy old biddy that was all too eager to learn the details of his and Abby's life.

He kept his answers short and clipped, but it did nothing to dissuade the woman. It got worse when he entered the classroom and saw the number of other parents who had shown up. He felt like an animal in a zoo; all the eyes followed his movements as he went to sit closest to the wall and away from the rest of the people.

The surrounding parents looked as though they lived in the next town over. They were clean-cut, hair styled perfectly, and clothes ironed. It was like they were trying to be a picture-perfect family.

He looked down at his own attire. His work boots were scuffed and dusty. His pants had a few grass stains from a recent job. His flannel shirt was buttoned wrong, and the sleeves were pushed up. Even his hair was a mess; he had tried to style it but didn't have much success, so he eventually gave up. The only thing going for him was that he had taken a shower before he left, so at least he didn't smell like sweat and grime.

As the meeting began, Mike had to try his best not to fall asleep. It was the typical teacher stuff. How the kids were doing. What the curriculum was for the following year. What their goals were. Blah, blah, blah.

Mike didn't care. He trusted you, and he knew his little sister was smart. She didn't need someone holding her hand and telling her what she was doing right or wrong. He knew this because he did that, and she didn't need it.

What did interest him, though, was the fact you kept looking his way. You didn't look at the others, and when you spoke, it was usually aimed toward them, but he saw the way you would look at him from the corner of your eye. He figured you were probably in shock that he actually showed up this time.

The meeting dragged on, and he was ready to leave. There were a few moments he had caught himself nodding off as he needed sleep, and this wasn't helping him. But then, like everything else in his life, the universe decided it was his time to suffer.

There was one woman who had sat at the front of the classroom. She wore her hair pulled back tight in a bun, her shirt was pressed, and her face was set in a permanent frown. He hated that lady; she reminded him of his good-for-nothing aunt who only wanted to criticize every choice he made.

The lady was also the mother of the most spoiled, brattiest child in the whole class. That damned kid had made it her life mission to torment Abby. He had come home more than once with her complaining about it, and when Mike had brought it up with you, you had told him that you had spoken with the parent.

That, of course, had done nothing. The child was an annoying pest, and he hated the way she treated Abby, but his sister had learned early on to deal with the bullying on her own. It didn't stop him from wanting to throttle the little shit, though.

The woman, the one who had started all his problems, took the opportunity to start a round of questioning. The first few were innocuous until they weren't.

"You seem to be a very patient woman." The woman had spoken to you, but her eyes were locked on him. "Is it a skill that was learned?"

The question itself was innocent enough, but the inflection and tone she used were meant to cut. He wasn't stupid. He knew she was alluding to something. It was always something, but he had to force himself not to say anything; the woman was a viper, and if he said something, she would attack without hesitation.

"I think anyone can be patient," You had responded diplomatically. "It's just a matter of the situation."

The woman didn't look happy with your answer, but she didn't pursue the line of questioning.

"Well, I couldn’t help but notice a certain someone who decided to finally drop in."

There it was. That was the opening.

Mike could tell you didn’t like the turn of conversation, and you were clearly trying to divert it elsewhere. It was no use, though. Mike could see the glint in the woman's eye as she prepared for the kill. She had a smile on her face, but her eyes were cold. "I was starting to think that Mr. Schmidt had abandoned his responsibilities. Wouldn’t be the first time someone in that family did such a thing."

He couldn’t help but have visions of his accidental mall incident from last year flash in his mind when he processed what the woman had said. He could easily hop over the desk and deck her right in the mouth. He had the muscle for it, and it was very tempting.

However, he would not.

If there was anything Mike had learned over the years, it was how to control his emotions, even if the situation was dire. The last time he had lost his cool, he ended up getting fired, but that was a long time ago… okay, not really, but the point was, he wouldn't make the same mistake again.

He wouldn't give the woman the satisfaction.

Mike leaned forward in his chair, arms crossed over his knees, and looked the woman straight in the eyes. "That's funny. I could say the same thing about your kid."

"Excuse me?!" She hissed, and she seemed offended. Good. He hoped she was offended.

"Okay, okay." You intervened, hands up as if to placate the two of them. "Let's keep this civil, okay? The last thing we want is to be kicked out of the school for brawling. That's not beneficial for any of us." You then looked back at the woman. "Let's not bring personal matters into this."

"Personal matters?" The woman was appalled at your statement, and her voice was so loud in the quiet room. He could tell many of the other parents were looking at them now, and he felt the weight of their gazes on him. It only made his anger spike. "That monkey of his tried to bully mine for three months now, and she's never done anything."

Monkey? Monkey?! Oh, he was going to kill her. It was one thing to talk shit about him; he was used to that, but Abby? No. Absolutely not. His little sister was the best damn thing to come into his life. He wouldn't have it.

But before he could say something, before he could even get out of the chair, you had done something he would never have thought you would. You got up and went to your desk, then you returned, holding a paper. You held it up for all the parents to see.

"This is a drawing my students did a few weeks ago," you started, and he was surprised at the level of calmness you were exuding. "The assignment was for them to draw the thing they loved the most."

Hearing those words, Mike had a feeling what was coming next, but he wasn't going to say anything. It would be like tempting fate. Still, he watched as you grabbed one of the papers, and then you turned it around so he could see it. Abby had done the drawing, and it was not only of him but of everyone else in her class as well. She had even drawn you standing near her with a kind smile. It was the picture she had brought home from that field trip months ago. It was a nice picture. Really nice. He liked it, and he knew Abby was proud of it.

"I made copies of every drawing so the parents could see them," You continued as you held out the picture for everyone to see. "So, tell me, would a bully do this?"

Your voice had a bite to it now, and he could finally see just how angry you were. He was surprised at how much control you were exerting. The other parents, however, were shocked at your sudden display of emotion. Even the woman, who had looked as though she was ready to take you on herself, looked like a deer caught in headlights. She didn't know what to say. No one said anything. Even he was shocked by your sudden outburst.

You were normally such a mellow person. Understanding, even. Always ready to listen, always ready to understand. You were the one who was there to help when something went wrong. You were the person who everyone turned to. You were… nice. You were a kind person. You were—you were just like Abby. That's all he saw in you now. You were just like his sister. You were just like her. You had that same determination and that same look of knowing something that others didn't, but there was also something else. You were a fighter, too. It was just something he hadn't noticed until this very moment.

You weren't the nice teacher everyone thought you were. No, you were more. You were the person he knew his sister was becoming.

"And to answer your question from before," you continued, ignoring the growing outrage from the other parent. "I'm a very patient woman because I understand that not everyone has the same opportunities. Some of us have a responsibility to provide the basic necessities for our family, which can often lead to not being able to attend these types of meetings.”

You looked directly at the woman when you spoke the last part, and you did not look happy. At all. In fact, he was pretty sure that was a little vein on the side of your head.

"Not everyone can be at their best every moment. Not everyone is at their best all the time. Not everyone has the privilege to complain about things not going their way. So, while I am a very patient woman, I will not have any of this derogatory about my students and their guardians." The calmness in your voice was gone, and your voice was rising, and you had started pacing back and forth behind your desk as you spoke. "Because if there is one thing that I cannot stand, it's someone who criticizes others just to make themselves feel better."

You went on to speak about your experience with the woman's daughter, explaining that a meeting needed to be called upon to address the issues with the child. You didn't stop there, though. No, you also spoke about how she should have addressed the situation when it was first brought up and how that, in turn, impacted the rest of your class. You had even pointed out some of the other parent's children who had done the same thing.

Suddenly, this meeting wasn't as bad as he thought it would be.

It took a while, but once you finished your little speech, everyone had finally gotten over their shock and embarrassment. The meeting, as such, continued without incident, and by the time it was all said and done, Mike was ready to go home.

As he stood from his seat and made his way to the door, however, you stopped him. You had your bag in your hand and your coat on as well.

"I just wanted to—"

"You don't need to apologize," Mike cut you off. He didn't want an apology. He knew you weren't at fault here. In fact, he was surprised you took the time even to defend him. That didn't happen often. "I was expecting something like that to happen, but I appreciate you speaking up for Abby. She's got a good teacher."

He thought you would be embarrassed or even annoyed, but instead, your face lit up, and your cheeks turned red. "Oh, uh, well, it's my job. It was what I needed to do."

"Maybe, but you did it anyway. So, I appreciate it." He looked around the room and noticed everyone else had left. Even the nosy assistant had disappeared. He didn't know what to say, so he settled with saying the first thing that came to mind. "And hey, maybe next time you can tell them this is why I don't go to these meetings."

Your laugh was light, and you had a smile on your face. He liked the sound of it. He liked seeing it, too. He also liked the way it lit up your eyes. They had a beautiful color. So bright, so shiny. It was almost hypnotic.

"I'll consider it."

Mike wasn't sure how, but somehow, he knew you were telling the truth.

[moonieandi]

snapshots pt. 11 | stanley pines x f!reader 

Summary: a record-breaking blizzard has both you and stan out in the snow one fateful february night. you both find something in the snow. 

warnings (TW): swearing, idk blizzards?, panic-induced situtions

tags: mutual-pining, sibling dynamics, affection

notes: yoooo this was crazy hard to write guys! I had to do this in pieces! And like the ending may have been.. A last minute decision (no it was not i was thinking about it for months) but like helllooooo everyone! I am here and kinda around sometimes! I missed you all so much life has been allll over the place! I hope you all enjoy <3 look forward to the comments always i love feedback on writing and or storyline!! It keeps me going and motivated to hear for you all!! (special thank you to cass for the playlist <3 it helped w writing!!) much love to you all enjoy ! 

word count: 5.1k

| masterlist | 

February, 1988 

Living this far north had it plights, she learned. 

Not that she had never experienced winter, but it was different when it came around in Gravity Falls. 

There was an eloquent sequestering they pivoted into come the first snowfall in November. Stan had a tendency to hunker, moving blankets to and from different rooms. She especially loved stealing his hoodies and pants from their new dryer. They fell into a routine of drawing closer and closer come the colder months, and he had a tendency to ensure she always left with the appropriate coat, the red one, and her hat and gloves. He floated and pestered more when it began to snow each season. But for some reason, released the reins when it came to her driving to school despite the icy roads and blurred white windshield. 

After the escapade at the lake last January, and her handling the drive home, essentially alone, he was fairly confident in her home-taught driving skills, despite her being somewhat nervous about the road in the early snowy mornings. The headlights always cast shapely shadows on the snow and trees, blurring the lines of the road and making her reliant on the brakes too much for her comfort. She knew the breaks could not actually fight against the slick traction and black sheet ice that lay just below the surface of freshly fallen snow. So sometimes she’d give him that look in the early school mornings, staring at him across the kitchen table as he peers through the newspaper again. She’d nudge her feet across his lap, his fingers curling around her ankles, nudging her sock up her leg. 

“Yes, dear.” He’d say, not questioning. Because he knew after so many times of her insisting and nervous fretting. He always said it in a joking tone, a quick phrase his father would always say to placate his mother. A dismissal of her usual rantings and worrying and lingering in doorways. 

He liked to believe he used it in a more endearing way. One that meant more, he hoped. He enjoyed doing things for her, he discovered. A more innate need than anything, to give into her ploys so easily. He thinks that's what husbands do, anyway. Complain about their wives in an endearing way, because everything that perhaps should have been annoying about her only made him all the more dizzy about her. So he’d drive her most mornings. 

But he couldn’t today. 

He was tied up with work and the giftshop that day. Despite the reduced hours, he was insistent that morning that he needed to stay in. He had fucked up the exact delivery he usually gets every two months to resupply some of the smaller novelties up front. After the rush of a small local Christmas crowd, he was in need of some smaller and more centered gifts for the upcoming Valentine's holiday. He had been distracted by the holiday, thinking about an appropriate gift to give her for the holiday. He hadn’t ever gotten her anything for the holiday before, but things felt… different recently. There was a hairs breath between the line they continually both danced around. He was thinking about the perfect gift to give her that also danced along that winding line, when he scheduled the next upcoming order to come in at 8 a.m. sharp, instead of the usual late-day delivery of 6:30 p.m. He had sworn at the mishap, and sent her on her glum way with a brush of his hand along her hairline. The snow wasn’t that bad that particular morning anyway, he reasoned. 

“Do you want me to come and get you?”  His voice crackled over the landline, muffled by the snow on powerlines.  

She sighed. “No, Stan. I don’t want you walking in this snow just to drive me home.”  

“I don’t want you driving in it, though.” He pauses, a grunt front along the line. “I’m on my way.” A fumble and a thud along the line, a boot, perhaps. The zip of his new coat. 

“No!” She pulled the phone away from her ear, wringing her hand across her chest. He was too stubborn for his own good at times. “Stanley.” She whispered. “Don’t, please, I’ll be leaving in the next 10 minutes. I should be home in 45 minutes.” She predicted, eyeing the heavy snow out the window. The kids had been let go early today, but work from past weeks had piled up, and she insisted the lead teacher go back to her own family. (“Don’t you have your own?” The older woman had asked.) 

He humphed, unhappy at the prospect of her discomfort with the dark road. “You got 30 before I start walking hun’.”

Her shoulders fell. He always got his way when it came to her. Something she didn’t completely mind, except when it was at his own expense. Which it currently was. She hated seeing him cold in any capacity. It’s why she constantly dried his clothes and invested in more throw blankets. And why she no longer took baths in the tub she laid his blue body in last January. She was frustrated at his insistence, but also painfully aware of her nervousness at the darkness outside waiting for her. But she’d rather face some selfish fear of dark roads than have him blindly stumbling through the snow and sludge to get her. She’s never asked him to do that, but seemingly he’d do it of his own volition anyway. 

“I’m on my way, Stanley. I’ll see you soon.” She clips, the edge of a confession curled on her tongue. She thought it may be the hectic day she had, but him annoyingly strongarming the conversation was only really ever endearing. She wondered how many years it would stay that way, when she would be sick of his deep and sheltered sweetness. 

He hums, it crinkles through the phone line. A resolute tone in his deep voice. “30 minutes, hun’.” He says again, she sighs, hanging the phone back up to the head office’s receptor. Folding loose papers into her shoulder bag, cleaning up the head secretary’s desk before shrugging on Stan’s coat and her secondhand gloves before flicking off the last light on in the building to head off into the parking lot. 

Stan’s car sat rigid and the leather of the seat was cold under her thighs. She had to dig the back tires out of the deep cavern that the fastly falling snow had created. The imprint of where she had parked that morning now lay under several inches of new fresh snow. She spent exactly 5 minutes digging the tires out with her now sopping-wet gloves. She had 25 minutes. 

The inside of the car didn’t prove to be of much comfort either. It felt darker in the driver's seat, the only cast of light coming from the radio and her headlights. The staggered street lamps acted as pacers, marking the next point on the road in which she could unwind her hands from their deadly grip along the leather wheel. There were next to no other cars on the country road that led her home. She had 20 minutes. 

The radio sizzled in the darkness of the car. Scrambled late-night talk show reruns sounded crisp and rattled the dashboard of the aging car. The rumble of the motor broke up the silence between the muffled voices on the radio. She thinks to flick the radio, disturbed by the noises of the turning tires and the faint voices. She’d prefer Stan’s voice now, and his rumbling while she hummed to the radio. A song would distract her from the crispness of her breath in front of her, the coldness of the cabin, and the gentle slip of the tires. The tug of the wheel from time to time as the car displaces the inches of snow on the road. 

She glances at the clock. She has 15 minutes. 

She glances again, one hand steady on the wheel and the other reaching for the radio nob. She knows the channel she will flick to already, to that annoying 70’s music channel that Stan always grumbles at but secretly enjoys. 

Movement catches her eye in the dimness of the upcoming street lamp, and the car slips along faster against the ice than her foot can move to the brake. A flash in front of her, and a heavy movement of snow. An animal perhaps, she would believe, if it weren’t for the distinct color of clothes that moved in front of her, spotted between the heavy snowfall. 

She breaks and veers as quickly as she can.

“Oh my god.” She breathes. “Oh my god.” Hands heavy against the wheel, still she unwinds them finger by finger. Breath heavy, hand meeting her chest above her heart. She begins to rattle the door open, stepping out the driver’s side and rushing into the snow. Forgoing her hat and gloves. 

The figure is deep in the snow, directly under the street lamp. Flashes of color move in the deep snow, and the grumbling of a voice meets her. It’s too dark to ascertain, so she quickly moves closer, calling to what she believes to be a person insane enough to walk in this blizzard. 

Only Stan was insane enough to walk in the snowy dark like this. 

“Oh my god.” She thinks to take a breath again, calm her chest, and to disassociate the ringing in her ears. “Stanley!” She calls, rushing forward. 

Except she does not find Stan’s stature in the snow, but comes upon the constant movement of the snow instead, sort of like the person she had almost killed was struggling to get up above the snow. Voices grew more distinct as she reached to assist the person. 

“Give it back! It’s my turn!” The voice of a young girl met her, in sequence with a young boy’s. 

“You’ve had your turn, and we just keep going farther back!” 

She reaches into the pile now, realizing in the dark of this particular Thursday night she had stumbled upon two siblings battling it out in the middle of the road during the worst blizzard of the season. 

The children are not swayed by her hands and words, too caught up in the argument between them. Constantly grabbing and reaching for an object, passed back and forth from hand to hand. Each time a sibling breathes for a break the other moves to snatch the object back. No rest between their fight. They move in sequence as if the other can predict the nexts’ very move. 

It hadn’t been the first time she had broken up a fight between children, and definitely not the first one broken up between siblings. She had learned these past years that a sibling could be someone's greatest asset or someone’s very downfall. She had always wondered what it would have been like, to have a little shadow to teach and play with, but these years had reflected a rather different light on her pre-teen pipedream. Stanford had become another blight in a bright dream of hers. 

So, she doesn’t hesitate to reach into their tussle, separating them between her wingspan, her feet dug into the snow and ice of the road. The street lamp had reflected weird lights on the dark snow before, but the image of the children standing in front of her flashing headlights now drove her to her knees. 

They breathed separately now, the object they had fought valiantly over sat between them. Before her sat a slightly dented but sleek tape measurer. But that truly wasn’t what drew her attention. The feel and grasp of each of the children's shoulders grounded her, the heat of them spoke of their reality. 

They shared faces. They had no coats on, no boots on, and no gloves on. They looked to have popped directly here from some sort of vacation, their skin tan, their freckles distinct along the bridges of their noses. But they looked much the same. 

They shared eyes too, each looking confused from her, back to each other. They seemed to cool off, their breaths even now, the chill of the night seemingly seeping into their bones now, as their teeth chattered slightly. Stilled under her hands, their shared confusion at being caught, at being seen, passed back and forth between them now. 

She looks from each one, not being able to restrain both and keep an eye on both at the same time. First the girl under her left hand, her hair tousled and her stickered skin shining under the headlights. She looked at her confused, eyes clouded, like she was realizing something, like placing a piece of a puzzle.

She looks to her right, the boy wore his emotions plainly. His hair tousled also, and his pine tree hat tumbled off in the snow long ago. He looks contemplative and deeply guilty about something she could not piece. Like he was living his mistakes as he stood before her, and felt guilt when he tucked his face closer to her hand. 

She can’t stand to turn her face for a fourth time, doesn’t want to think about turning her head to and fro and having one of them disappear while her neck is turned. The fading of their visage on some dark horizon line. So she drags them together, bringing her wingspan to have the siblings meet side by side again. Their silly argument, forgotten on the ground between their feet. 

She must look a certain way. Perhaps it’s the tilt of her head or the quickness of her breath that gives away her clear understanding of them. She knows them. Had placed them in countless daydreams and nightmares. Recurring dreams (visions) that have wracked her head since she settled into this lonely Oregon town. She would know them in a crowded room, and in the dark of night. They shared her Stan’s deep-set eyes and streaks of stubbornness. 

She never imagined they were real, though. Thought it was a bandaid her brain had conjured up to quantify the numerous oddities in her life. Thought her mind twisted her nightmares and wishes into a litany of these children, threaded her desires into images and a realness she could not touch until now. She thought her mind had been mocking her. Had grown peaceful in her slowing madness if it meant she woke to Stanley again. Ignored alarms and forgo sleep in favor of simply wondering about the children that had seeped into her dreams. 

But they were real, or at least felt real to her. Looked real too. Reminded of the brisk wind as it tousled their matching brown hair. They both stood before her now, their matching brown eyes looking over her, confused by her visage here in the dark of this particular  night. The boy’s face looks beyond her, behind her, looking for another figure to emerge from the car. 

“W-what are you doing here?” The boy asks, not yet having shrugged her hand off his shoulder.

“I was on my way home from work.” She replies, like it’s a normal workday, like it’s a normal conversation, like it’s repetition, like it isn’t odd that the fixation of her years-long dream stands before her now. “What are you doing here?” She asks, no real scold in her voice. A litany of amusement in the brush of her voice, amusement at his typical imploring questions. (Typical?) 

The girl, who has not moved her eyes from her face, suddenly moves a piece of the puzzle behind her eyes. A flicker of some sort of recognition and excitement at having the older woman in front of her now. With a brilliant smile on her face, the girl stumbles from beneath her hand, moving forward to wrap herself closer to the woman who isn’t so mysterious now. 

“Mabel!” The boy chastises, reaching for his sister's arm to pull her away from the embrace. 

Mabel takes the boy's arm instead, bringing him forward and into the embrace they share now. A ridiculous embrace, a dangerous one. Out here in the dark of the night in the midst of the road in the middle of a blizzard. Something in her relaxed her usual anxious worrying though, with both of them folded into her embrace. Like somewhere in some universe in some time, they had done this before. That the puzzle pieces behind the girls' eyes were them somehow.

That the children knew who she was. And somehow, she knew them. 

She didn’t think to reason it out beyond that at the moment. The impossibility of the illusion of them didn’t falter her in the white blurry of the snow. It felt disproportional and ignorantly stupid in the face of the improbability of their appearance. But they felt real under her arms, as real as the coldness seeping through her pants. Warm and whole under her arms now, able to scoop the entirety of what she believed to be a dream into her body now. 

The boy's mind was always a whirlwind though, never restful and flightful, unpredictable like the scattering of the snow and wind around them. He nudges back from her embrace, tucking his head back and into the wind again to truly look at her flushed and nipped face. 

His eyes widened, noting the tearfulness of her eyes, the wet tracks around her cheeks. She hadn't noticed, hadn’t cared about raining in her emotions when it came to them. He looks at her like Stanley does at times, the quirk of his head and the squint of those same dark eyes. Like he can’t place her emotions, but can place the rest of her entirely. 

“How?” He says, the rest of the question held in the air between them. How does she know them? Why does she recognize them? Is that what this is? 

She knows them not to be a complete figment of her imagination. Suddenly made real, despite everything in this world contradicting as such. 

But in all her seeping dreams, she remembers distinctly that this one in particular is set farther into the future. That there are indications, and blurs, in her dream that hint at the dreams being beyond vague premonitions, rather than a living of the current reality. That and Stan’s demeanor in these wishful far of dreams usually acted more… well more familiar with her than he does now. Act in ways that woke her abruptly now, shamefully not wanting to dream of him in such an intimate way while he lies so closely. 

So in some impossible way, beyond her current comprehension, how could they stand in front of her now. That if, for some reason, they were real, then how could they possibly be here? Here, in her current present, if they were from her distant future?

The unrestful thoughts strike her the same way the boy’s seem to also. Which inevitably sends her on another whirlwind of thought. If the children were a figment of her imagination, a concoction of wishfully wanted familial pictures, a piece of some manipulative puzzle in her own mind, then there should be no concern from the boy. Because they were not wholly real. Until now. But if this figment of some small-version of Stan was so very concerned, struck by her image and pulling himself away from her arms like she burned then how could she argue her case in sanity in the end of all this?

The boy brushed back, flung  himself from her arms and fell quickly back into the snow. He looked scared, scared of her. Scared of what followed in her wake. Because in his mind, it made complete sense how he would recognize her. But it shook something in his core when she reached forward to brush her fingers through his tangled hair, away from his forehead to reveal the scattering of stars across his brow. It had him moving, pulling the back of his twins’ sweater, away from the embrace of the woman they both knew. Has him reaching for the tape measurer again when she finally calls his name in the flash of their exit from this time to the very next. 

Because they hadn’t been born yet. Because in 1980-something his mother was a child. 

Because how could she possibly know his name? 

And who was Stanley? 

The thirty minutes had come and gone quickly. 

Stan truly hadn’t bothered to take off his boots and coat since he put them on thirty minutes prior when his doc’ called. Because although he believed in all her abilities, the ability to drive through a record-breaking snow-storm with no state sanctioned training or driver license, left him fitful by the front door. 

But when he made promises to her he rarely broke them. Unless it was to prove a point of course. But they both didn’t play games when it came to the cold now. 

He made it out the door (truthfully) 2 minutes early. He had spent a time clearing out an adequate spot to put the car an hour prior. Looking at the almost-covered spot now had him trudging through the snow early. She was always too tactful though, he smiled to himself, she’d probably curse him out for spoiling the extra 2 minutes she had. 

He thought nothing of it now, out here in the dark with only a shitty compass his brother had left behind, a flashlight, and the driving force of getting her safely home. 

He had been following the overhead lamp-light of the street lights for a while now. Trudging through the driveway was the worst of course, but he didn’t imagine she would have trouble remembering where to turn to their house. The huge Mystery-Shack sign pointed well enough to the direction of their cabin now. Even if it was eerily covered in snow and the dark. 

It had him stumbling, running without the flashlight and compass, to see his car and her form collapsed under said lamp-light. 

She was curled into herself, her knees folded under her body, her face sheltered into the snow away from the wind. Her coat open, and her gloves gone- like she had stumbled out of the car for something. Like she saw something out here. 

“Hun’!” His yell has her flinching upwards, her arms curled around her body against the cold. Her face flushed from the wind, and the unspeakable tracks of never-ending tears from her eyes. 

He thinks nothing of falling to his own knees, grasping and reaching for her over wind and snow. He can hear her over the endless gale, her own howl's disappearing into the snow and the forest beyond. 

“No, no, no.” He hums, his hands running up and down her back, the spring of worry about the cold and her condition having him moving again. It’s too loud out here now. The wind picks him up, has him curving his arm around the bend of her cold and sodden knees to pick her up. 

Her arm curls into her body, the other grasping and reaching for the hem of the collar of his coat. Some comfort in being so very despondent in front of him and it not shaking his resolve to simply care for her despite it. 

Because she can’t breathe. 

He folds her body into the passenger side of the car. Cursing and thanking God that the car remained on. If the car shut off he was unsure if it’d restart in these temperatures. 

He takes another look at his surroundings before getting into the driver's side. No tracks, no evidence of anything that would pull her out into the street like that. Nothing he could conjure up in his mind that would have her stuck in the snow breathless and freezing. 

She’s shivering in the passenger's seat, and he instinctually pulls her into his side, into the middle of the seat. Buckles be damned, he’d drive slow but he sure as shit needed to get her home. 

She tucks her face close to him, timid now, still sniffling from the cold and the wracking sobs that overtook her not even minutes before. His simple presence calmed anything that stirred within her now. She sags, exhausted by her train of thoughts, resolute in what she needs to confide in him now. 

Because in a way he knows. He has known of her fitful dreams and triangular shadows that creeped into corners of her mind now. She had been too ashamed up until now, to confide in him about it all. Confide in him about… about them. 

Because before it was simply a figment of what she believed she wanted. But now she knew parts of it existed out there, in some plane of existence. The twin’s were that simple existence, the girls warm embrace case enough and the scattering of stars across the boys brow that she just knew were there was case enough. 

She was scared of the bigger things though. The monsters she had seen and the twisted dreams of death and loss. But wasn’t it better if Stan knew? If he knew of the danger to come? If they could prevent some of it? 

Or was she playing into something far more sinister than her twisted mind could conjure up? 

It has her sagging closer to Stan. Touching her face close to his shoulder and neck, letting her eyes droop at the heat and scent of him had her relaxing her hands more. They had been clenched before, her nails sore in the palm of her hands. She brings them up now, uncurling them to turn Stan’s face to her as he parks the car right outside their warm waiting home. 

Her hand turns his face, curving her sore palm around his jaw to his chin. 

He looks at her, so similarly. Like something she remembers from a dream. His eyes deep, a contemplative look to them. A deep concern and quirk of his brow has her pushing her hand up his face to settle his furrowed brow. 

He was always so worried about her. Always looking at her with this frustratingly endearing look. His dark eyes drawn to her in every room, in every setting. And she was always so worried about him. Even now, she complated telling him about everything that transpired in her mind, in those fitful dreams. She fears reliving some of them, of reliving the death of the children she now holds dear. That she somehow knows so well. 

There is one part of the dreams though, that she'd love to make a reality. 

Parts of it they live now. The domesticity they share is undeniable. They flit and work around each other so well. The simple affections they share also, the mornings and coffee’s he makes, to wake beside him is sometimes the best part of her day. Some days she goes the whole day waiting for darkness to creep across the horizon line, just so she could tuck herself close to him. 

They even shared a last name. 

Who were they kidding, truly? 

There is just one thing they don’t share, she thinks. Her hand moves back to his strong jaw again, her fingers thumbing the edge of his lips. She looks back to his eyes again, and the flutter that begins behind her chest at his shaded look has her gasping as he moves his warm hand to cradle her own face too. 

She leans deep into his palm, her eyes still trained on his as he leans as close as he dares. Before the quirk of his lip has her palm shaking to her chest to circle over her staggering heart. 

“May I?” 

She thinks nothing and everything when she surges forward, silencing his inquisition completely. 

She had dreamed of him, and longed for him for what felt like ages now. Touches and looks passed back and forth like some sort of game. But it was so easy to sum up the parts of him to her now, so easy for her to lilt and bend to him. It wasn’t some game now, she resolved, and she was resolute in living life more truthfully with him now too. Starting with not denying herself anything he ever offered her again. Especially if it was this. Something that still terrified her racing heart even now. 

He is wholly warm, his palm warm along her jaw and neck. It grasps her entirely, curving her head to the side to angle her lips to his, pulling her forward to swallow the noise she makes in surprise at her own instinctual action. 

She had dreamed of it of course, kissing Stan like this. But something about kissing him for the first time, she is glad she never dreamed of it. She didn’t simply want to relive it, she didn’t want it to end. 

His lips moved in a certain cadence, not too slow to call this all consuming kiss a simple peck, but fast enough to have her breathing heavily, having him tilt his head more to the side to slot himself all the more closer to her. 

He nips at her purposefully, his mouth working to dance along hers. She continues in like, opening up to allow air to pass between them. Their breaths heavier with every passing moment. 

His other hand found the curve of her waist, a warm trail from her thigh to her hip to the curve of her ribs. He hooks his arm around her now, and she tries not to think about how he moves her so easily to curl up on his lap, the steering wheel behind her. 

His enthusiastic onslaught has her being pushed back, her back arching along the curve of the wheel. His hand curves around her jaw again to pull her away from his lips only for a moment, for him to give her that frightful dark look again before they flicker to her lips again. It gives her only a moment of solace to find resolve in the future she has chosen. To feel only a flicker of guilt in having tied Stanley to her once again. 

She figures he perhaps wouldn’t mind much, this time. 

She breathes, sitting forward in his lap. His lips curve again, not in that suave way, but in that frightfully giddy way. The way she imagines she looks now. His eyes still carry that weight, that dark look of what she now knows is a conjuring of want and abortion. She brings her hands back to his face again, and he turns his face to kiss the center of her sore palm. She didn’t want that look to disappear from his eyes, but she could not continue to explain away a part of herself if it meant a future alongside Stan. 

She sighs, her brow creased. 

“There’s something I have to talk to you about.” 

[factual-fantasy]

27 Asks! Thank you! :}} 💞

@peaspods

I might not be understanding, but I'm imagining this as people opening up commissions so people can give them money and they can turn around and donate that money to me..

I fear that this would create the opportunity to scam people.. "I'm taking commissions on behalf of Factual Fantasy! They're very sick so please commission me!" only for them to run away with the money they make..

I've been thinking a lot about setting up some kind of commission/donation thing because I'm starting to kind'a need the money.. but idk, I'm just kind'a run down and need some time to keep thinking about it. Thank you very much though <:)))

@zecromgen5

Thank you very much! :) And I've been hanging in there.. there hasn't been much improvement to my health or my mental state. The fact that in April it will officially been over a year since my health started to decline, and the fact that I'm going to spend my birthday at home collapsed on the couch has made me feel very sad <:( But I'm doing my best to work on it.. I'm hoping this new advice from my doctor helps me feel better <:)

And something good HAS happened actually, I got my tablet/FireAlpaca to work again! :))

XDD SJKFJSH AWW! THANK YOU SO MUCH!! :DDD

I've only seen a bit of it from Markiplier. So far I'm 50/50. Somethings I like and others I don't care for 😅

@neo-metalscottic

Thank you so much! :D 'm glad you've liked my recent artwork!! :}}}}

Also for Homes eyes, that was just meant to represent its oppressive presence and the fact that its watching them in that moment.. 👁️👁️

And I don't have any plans for any of the neighbors or Wally to figure out the house is alive. My AU is more like "a day in the life of" thing. Having someone discover Home is alive would move the plot forward. Which I don't feel like doing <XDD

Now communication... Home understands the concept, but he has no way of communicating other than creaking the floorboards and slamming doors..

I've heard about the well. That could work for Cliffjumper and Breakdown maybe.. and the twins perhaps.? But wouldn't they have to have Tailgates body in order to revive him? Hmmm.. idk actually,,

I've watched the bayverse movies, most of Prime and a few other things here and there. I didn't mind the bayverse movies that much, but I can see why a lot of people don't like them <XD

I just imaging trying to consume more than one Transformers media would be a lot to take on.. and I also don't like the animation styles of most other transformers shows 😅

(That's actually how I decided to watch Prime. I took a look at all the shows and went "this one looks ugly, this one looks ugly,, this one looks REALLY ugly.. Oh, this one doesn't look half bad. TFP it is then!")

@acreaturecalledkyfa

I've watched Markipliers first video on it. So far I'm not sure how I feel about those two 😅

The way I immediately opened YouTube and went looking for it XDD

@fandomcenteral (Link in ask)

Thank you so much! :DD This will come in handy!

@mason-gaylord

Aw! Thank you so much!! 🥰🥰

@im-nice-but-i-dont-like-you

Jangles would be a helicopter probably, Gerald would be a tank, Cici would be a Miata and Bibi would be a slightly raised up Miata XDD

Aw, I'm honored that you miss them <:}} Though I don't know if I'll draw them anytime soon.. I'm really not into inserted OCs anymore <:(

I'm waiting on Markiplier to release more videos on it <XD

@fadlingartisanfreakwinner

I like to imagine that Pokémon can learn dozens of moves. But 4 is the limit for official Pokémon battles. So any wild Pokémon in my comics can use/learn as many as they want :0

And yeah, they had that chat eventually. I just never got around to drawing it 😅

@wolfie-777

Nah nah its just iced tea XDDD

@whereismycupofcoffee

:DDD Thank you so much!! :}}}}

AAAA THANKYOU SO MCUHH!! :DDDD

@nuggybee

Yeahh,, Sky has its ups and downs. I'm currently in one of its downs. It seems like I'm let down by everything they're releasing 😓

@smithanonsworld

I feel like I've never seen a rabbit that color... its so cute 😭💞💞💞

@heaventhehedgi3

That sounds like me! Though I don't draw Octonauts anymore 😅

I'll keep it in mind! :0

🥹🥹🥹Aw... that's so sweet! Thank you so much!! 😭💞💞

@captain-skyler1987

You made an account just to follow me? :DD Aw that's so sweet! :) Thank you!

Also I'm sorry to hear you got the flu :(( I hope you're better by now!

I also have not played Dandy's world 😅

@stargirldrawsx3

The first thing that came to mind was very anxious all the time 😅

@network-warrior-01

Ah, that was an April fools post. <XD There is no drawing

[thefrogdalorian]

Nowhere Else To Run

Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Summary: Despite the fact that sharing a cabin with you and Grogu on Nevarro has given him the peaceful life he was searching for, Din cannot escape the nightmares of his past which haunt him most nights.

Although he feels unworthy of your love, the only time things make sense is when you take him in your arms and dutifully put his pieces back together. Even on nights when he feels he does not deserve it.

Word Count:  3.4k ✯ Rating:  Teen ✯ Content Warnings: ✯ PTSD, nightmares, descriptions of canon-typical violence, survivor's guilt, Din feeling unworthy of love, Din's violent past, reader's hands described as being smaller than Din's. Author's Note: I created my blog six months ago, so here is a little Din drabble to celebrate. Title is taken from 'All These Things That I've Done' by The Killers (which is so Din coded) and I also listened to 2 Rocking Chairs by Jon Bellion a lot recently, so that might have inspired some of this too! Really hope you enjoyed it and here's to many more months of Din Djarin brainrot ☺︎

✯ My Masterlist ✯ Read on AO3 ✯

On the nights he startles awake, haunted by the nightmarish, twisted visions of the worst things he has done, he is certain that he does not deserve you. With all his evil deeds laid bare as his mind plays cruel tricks on him, Din Djarin remains convinced that he could live a thousand lifetimes and never be worthy of your love. 

His eyelids fly open as his bare, muscular chest heaves. His golden skin is covered with a sheen of sweat. Din raises a trembling hand to wipe the moisture from his furrowed brow. Disorientated and afraid in the darkness.

His sharpened senses, honed thanks to his previous life as a bounty hunter, begin to function with all the effectiveness which once led to him being deemed the best in the parsec. He cringes as he remembers his narcissism, disgusted by how dishonourable it was to take pride in such an epithet. 

First, Din feels your presence at his side. A warm mass of flesh in the dark, coldness of the night. So close that he could reach out and touch you if only he were not petrified that doing so would shatter your beauty. He yearns to draw comfort from you. Yet, he is too afraid to bring you down to his level, to defile your splendour.

Then, Din hears your soft snores. Truthfully, the sweet sounds you make are not quite snores at all. Merely the even, shallow sounds which indicate that you are peacefully resting. He relaxes slightly, relieved that his unwanted awakening has not disturbed you. 

Emboldened by your continued slumber, Din sits up and gazes at you. Your stunning features are barely illuminated by the faint moonlight which streams in through an ill-fitting blind, yet even such a simple glimpse leaves him overwhelmed by your beauty.

As he quietly watches you, Din wonders what he could have done to deserve you in a past life. He certainly is not worthy of you in this one.

How could someone as wicked and treacherous as he ever be worthy of the love you envelop him in each day of your lives?

The guilt creeps in, then. It snakes its horrifying tendrils around Din's entire being and suffocates him under the weight of his regret and his pain. 

He feels guilty that he has even found himself in a position to receive love like this in the first place. Especially after everything he has done, all the pain he has caused and contributed to.

Din wonders whether it is cruel to keep you around. To have intertwined his life with yours in the way he has. Surely you deserve someone better than him.

Inviting you to move in with him changed so much for Din. It deepened and strengthened his relationship with you while opening him up to experiences he had missed for much of his life. How to share space with someone else, to show affection and receive it in return.

Sharing a bunk with someone for the first time meant Din could not continue outrunning his past. It was a race that had begun decades prior on the day he lost everything on Aq Vetina, a marathon which continued well into adulthood. 

The race was almost won when Din took the job that changed his life and led him to Arvala-7 in the hunt for the bounty who eventually became his son.

Yet it wasn’t until Din found you that he had finally crossed the finish line. 

He still remembered the horrified look in your eyes when he awoke for the first time in your presence, thrashing and screaming as the night terrors plagued him. Terrified by the haunting visions that made his past as vivid as though it was happening right before him. 

The nightmares are indiscriminate when they strike. Extensive in their scope. 

In slumber, Din is confronted with the shameful jobs he took from the most reprehensible individuals in the galaxy, reminded of the ego he once possessed.

He relives how readily he hunted people for his gain, collecting bounties without a care for who he hurt. Who was he to be the law? To be judge, jury and, on occasion, executioner? Din is pained at the memory of the life of sin he led. 

Din sees the job on Alzoc III in harrowing detail. The unspeakable acts of violence he had a hand in. As much as he tries to downplay his role and blame the atrocities on the disgusting band of crooks he ran with at the time, deep down, Din knows that he was a willing participant in the barbarity.

He replays the moment when, in a cruel, unforgiving tone, the gold-helmeted woman he had always idolised coldly informed him that he was a Mandalorian no more. Din is tormented time and again by the knowledge that he rendered himself an apostate in the eyes of the people who saved him; who taught him how to live. Being a Mandalorian and swearing the Creed were the only things aside from violence Din had truly ever been successful at. Walking The Way of the Mandalore was the only thing which had brought him anywhere close to achieving inner peace.

But most chillingly of all, Din is reminded of the gravest transgression of his life. An act of cruelty he knows that he will never truly forgive himself for committing, for as long as he lives.

Night after night, Din is haunted by how he had given up the child you both adore beyond comparison, who sleeps peacefully next door, to the Empire for the measly sum of a camtono of Beskar. 

Was that truly all Grogu’s life was worth?

Of course, Din knows that there is no sum in the entire galaxy which would prove comparable to how Grogu has enriched his life.

Even though Din has seen the error of his ways, as he thinks back across the decades and counts his mistakes, Din Djarin knows that he is not a good man. 

Yet, somehow, he has found you. 

You are the greatest blessing to happen to him, matched only by his son.

He thinks of the way you still look at him with such love in your eyes, even after knowing the atrocities he committed in a past life; it almost embarrasses him to be loved in such a manner. 

Somehow, Din has secured your unconditional love. A fact which proves every now and then, both suns shine on a womp rat’s tail. That even the most undeserving of rodents can occasionally have the greatest of fortunes.

Even when the terrors overcome him, you have never contemplated deserting him. No matter how dark and disgraceful the visions he divulges to you are.

When he wakes up yelling for his parents or screaming for Grogu, whom he is momentarily convinced the Empire have recaptured, you are always there to reassure him and to hold him while he sobs; to kiss his pain away with a touch of your soft lips against his tear-streaked cheeks.

Even knowing all he has done, you still look at him as though he is responsible for hanging all the stars which twinkle in the sky above your cabin on Nevarro. 

Din recalls evenings spent on the porch with you outside the unassuming cabin you share by the lava flats of Nevarro. Watching the sun set beneath the horizon as he holds your smaller hand in his, while he admires how your hands fit together as they rest on his lap. He thinks about how smooth your skin is there, how it is so unlike the calloused roughness of his own.

You are softness and humanity in the face of his wickedness. 

A wave of nausea overcomes him. Din is stricken by an overwhelming urge to get away from you. To put some distance between himself and you before he corrupts you with his immorality once more.

He ponders that perhaps he will find some relief on the porch in the dead of night. A solitary figure, save for his thoughts and the ghosts that haunt him. Sitting in total silence, apart from the bugs which chirp in the distance, is an appealing prospect.

So Din slowly swings his legs off the edge of the bunk, careful not to disturb you. He cringes at the way the sheets rustle. It is a minor offence compared to the many sins Din has already committed. Still, he does not want to add disturbing your peace to that list.

He sighs in the darkness as he perches on the edge of the bunk, a forceful exhale which causes his shoulders to droop when he realises you are still sleeping soundly. Din is relieved that you are unaware of his distress. 

He is tantalisingly close to the door when the moment of solace is cruelly snatched away. His careful steps across the wooden floor were evidently not soft enough.

The gentle sound of your voice cutting through the darkness stops him in his tracks. Din turns to face you.

“Din?” you whisper, voice thick and husky with sleep.

The wave of guilt that washes over him is immediate. It threatens to wash him away, to drown him. 

“Go back to sleep, cyare,” Din shakily responds, hoping he sounds convincing to someone so attuned to his every mannerism.

“Did you have another nightmare?” you ask, clearly unconvinced by his display.

Din Djarin may be many things, but he is not a liar. 

Even under the merciful cover of darkness, when he would not have to look you in the eye as he skirted around the truth, he cannot bring himself to lie to you.

“Yes,” Din finally responds. His voice cracks as he struggles under the pressure of admitting his weakness. 

The light is on before he can protest, and you rise from the bed before he can insist that there is no need. Din blinks rapidly for a few seconds as his retinas adjust to the rude intrusion into the darkness.

When his eyes finally focus, you are standing right before him, already moving to gather him into your arms.

It is strange to him, this notion that he ever needed someone to pick him up and dutifully put his shattered pieces back together. A human needing repairs is an alien concept to Din Djarin. While he has always been adept at finding and fixing faults in his impressive arsenal and starships, he was never able to identify his weaknesses and repair himself. Until he found his Clan.

It wasn't until Din saved the kid that he realised he had been running from something for his entire life. Since that terrible day, when he watched over his father's shoulder as the bodies of his neighbours hit the dusty floor. Crumpled heaps, which used to be people until moments ago, were clad in the same distinctive red robes as him. The terror he felt as his parents ran through the streets, determined to save him, their only son. 

On his worst days, Din wonders if their sacrifice was worthwhile. He frets over what they would think if they could see what became of their precious boy. Whether they would be disappointed to see the life he followed. A life of such violence, such mercilessness. 

Your warm presence against him, as you take him into your arms, snaps him back to the present. Din willingly melts into your embrace, relishing the human contact. 

“Talk to me, Din,” you whisper as you hold him to your chest.

When you run your fingers through his hair, he loses all composure and breaks down into small sobs. Din shudders in your arms as you trail soothing fingers through his hair with one hand and rub your hand in circles on his back with the other.

“I don’t deserve you,” he eventually murmurs, voice quivering. 

Din feels the way you shake your head. You gently place your hand underneath his chin and tilt his face up. Din's eyes meet your gaze and he notices how your eyes are full of concern for him. He can hardly look at you, feeling mortified at being studied like this. 

Allowing himself to be vulnerable like this is still so fresh to him. To have his soul laid bare like this is uncomfortable and unnatural.

“You are not the worst things you have ever done, Din,” you whisper as you gently wipe the tears he was unable to prevent trailing a hot path down his cheek with your fingertips, “You cannot change the past. I know that you are a good man, Din, and I love you. All of you. You would not be the man that I adore without those parts of you. For better or worse, they shaped you into the man you are today.”

Din trembles under your gaze, under the weight of your words. Unsure whether he can allow himself to accept the unconditional love you offer so readily to him, time and again.

The tears stream steadily down his cheeks, as you continue to soothe his soul:

“In you, I see a caring father. A considerate man who will do anything to protect his Clan. A fearless Mandalorian warrior who has turned his fighting prowess towards a more noble endeavour. To rid the galaxy of any threats, to build a better life for your son. That is an honourable undertaking, Din.”

“I am not an honourable man,” he scoffs, instantly rebutting such a compliment. He is far too undeserving of such praise.

“You are,” you sigh, gently stroking his cheek with your thumb. There is such tenderness in your gaze and in how you touch him that he struggles to keep his emotions at bay. His bottom lip trembles at your next words, “Your life is not defined by your most evil deeds. I wish you could see yourself through my eyes. I adore you, Din. There is so much of you that is loveable.”

Din sighs. In his current mental state, he is unable to believe your words. Unable to let them sink in, to find solace in your reassurances. He looks away from you, shaking his head in a silent response.

When he finally feels able to find your gaze again, he watches as something shifts in your eyes. A tether of patience snaps. 

There is a firmness in your tone the next time you address him.

“Do you know how empty our lives would be without you? How much the little boy in the other room adores you?" you plead in an exasperated tone. "He’s asleep right now, surrounded by a mountain of plushies that his father bought for him because even though you intimidate most you come into contact with thanks to your appearance, I have seen firsthand that, beneath your armour, you have a pure heart. And you are wrapped around each one of his little green talons.”

At the mention of his son, Din cannot help the way his lips curve upwards, the ghost of a smile crossing against his features. A welcome respite from the tortured look he has worn since he awoke from his nightmare. 

“Grogu adores you, Din. He idolises you. You would do anything to secure his happiness,” you nod, “And mine. How lucky am I to know a love like that?”

“I do love you," Din nods, "And I’m going to spend the rest of my life taking care of both of you,” Din vows, the cracks in his voice replaced with steely determination. 

Din notices the way you seem to loosen at his words, knowing that the man you know and love is gradually returning to you. His insecurities and devastation have been replaced by his determination to protect you from anything in the galaxy which could harm you.

“Then, let’s get some more rest, honey,” you whisper as you press a soft kiss onto Din’s stubbly cheek.

Din nods and laces his fingers with yours, allowing you to lead him the few steps back to the bunk you share. He slides underneath the covers, watching you as you round the bunk to join him. Once you have slid beneath the sheets, you turn the light off and plunge the room back into darkness. 

Yet, the darkness which permeated every atom of Din Djarin’s being has vanished. He can only see the light now. The way your love illuminates every part of his life. How unrelenting, yet not overbearing, the way you adore him is. 

Especially when you gently encourage him to roll over on his side so you can wrap your arms around his tight waist and nuzzle into the centre of his back. Your nose and mouth nestled between his broad shoulders.

Din lets out a sigh of contentment. 

In your arms, there is tranquillity. The necessary remedy which soothes his anguished spirit. 

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

Later, when Grogu is finally sleeping soundly after another long day of being doted on by his parents, Din finally makes it to his intended destination. Although he tried to reach the porch in the middle of the night, he would rather be here now. Especially since you are by his side, sitting next to him. It is a moment of rest after a hectic day spent entertaining a hyperactive Force-sensitive toddler with a voracious appetite.

With your presence in his life, Grogu has only continued to flourish. Din’s chest swells with pride as he thinks of his son's progress and all the milestones he has reached. Din knows that being a good father to Grogu is the most important role he will ever fulfil. He treats it with as much seriousness as such a responsibility warrants.

But Grogu is asleep.

Now, it is just Din and you. He smiles as he looks at your hands together, and appreciates how your fingers are intertwined. Din relishes the comfort he draws from your physical presence. He feels soothed by the knowledge that he has hidden nothing from you, that you can still love him regardless of his past transgressions. 

Din looks out across the landscape towards the rolling volcanic hills of Nevarro, dusted a pale pink and orange colour in the fading light of dusk. He thinks about how he will grow old with you here in this little cabin. If fate grants him such an honour. 

He cannot help but smile as he thinks about how you will sit out here on this very porch, holding hands with each other. When his patchy facial hair is flecked with grey and even when it is entirely white. When the wrinkles on his face are as lined and drawn as the crevices which scar the surface of Nevarro. Perhaps Grogu will be old enough to run around by then. Maybe he will have gained the gift of speech.

Regardless, even many rotations from now, Din knows with absolute certainty that he will still think you are the most beautiful sight in the galaxy. Even after years of adoring each other, he will still wonder how he was ever so lucky to be worthy of your love. 

Din is excited to spend the rest of his life proving to you that he is the good man you repeatedly inform him you still see, even amongst all his flaws. It is a heavy task, yet one he relishes. Love had terrified him for so much of his life. When he discovered its beauty, he was determined to make up for lost time.

It is a heavy thought that he may never exhaust his capacity and reach the depths of all the love he has realised he possesses.

For now, though, Din turns his head to look at you, a soft smile lighting up his face as the sunset illuminates his features. The colour has returned to his cheeks. You return the gesture, gently sweeping your thumb across the back of his hand. 

In the fading light, your face glows golden, only accentuating your beauty. Din wonders again how he was ever so lucky to know a love like this. 

Except now, he does not doubt that he deserves it.

Now, Din Djarin allows his chest to be flooded with the warmth he feels when he embraces your love.

He accepts it, even after all the things that he’s done.

[cesussy]

songs(well, mostly lyrics) that remind me of aventurine <3

JAKSJKAJAJA kinda nervous this is my first post on tumbrl so ahahjaus im so in love with aventurine i cant stop thinking about him lately💔 so some of these might sound delusional😭(but i like to think that i understood his character right so.. 😌) ALSO!! i doubt anyone is gonna see this but let me know if you'd like some other character from star rail<3 (or genshin, zzz etc, i have the games i like on my description profile, but you can just ask and if i know the character ill try my best to answer😌)

back to the topic<3(songs down bellow):

Million Dollar Man - Lana Del Rey

"You're screwed up and brilliant, look like a million dollar man.. so why is my heart broke?" - this song reminds me sm of himmm, the whole idea of a man who is so fascinating but so distant and cold at the same time, like the kind of person you can watch but never get too close

"You've got the world, but baby, at what price?" - i think this fits well with everything he had to endure only to work for the ipc.. you know, like, the idea of an illusion of freedom, he has money and all, but.. is he really, truly, free?:(

Big Spender - Peggy Lee

"The minute you walked in the joint, I could see you were a man of distinction.. A real big spender. Good lookin', so refined.." - ok i really have no explanation for this one, i think it speaks for itself😭

Luxurious - Gwen Stefani

"Working so hard every night and day and now we get the pay back, trying so hard, saving up the paper, now we get to lay back" - this one i feel it more, like, in terms of vibes, the whole sensual vibe, the song having the whole theme of working for money but it still has a rich vibe to it, you know?

Money Power Glory - Lana Del Rey

"I want money, power and glory, I want money and all your power, all your glory" - you'll see a lot of Lana, but I really think he fits with some songs. as for the lyrics, the song itself doesn't fit with his lore totally, but i like the chorus, i think it fits with WHY he likes the idea of having money, back then when he was a slave.. he meant nothing to the world. now that he has it, he is considered powerful.. glorious. i like to think that he understands this mentality, how much, unfortunately, money controls the world

"My life, it comprises of losses and wins and fails and falls" - i think this really works with his luck, how he always emerges victorious even after so many hardships he has to go through

Beneath the Mask - Lyn

"I'm a shapeshifter at Poe's masquerade, hiding both face and mind, all free for you to draw" - it feels a little silly to put a persona song on a star rail post😭 but i feel like beneath the mask works so well with characters that don't show their true self(haha did you get that) to the world, which works so much with the flirty, confident persona(im so funny) aventurine puts on, the "mask" he so created to conceal his feelings

Summertime Sadness - Lana Del Rey

"Think I'll miss you forever.. Like the stars miss the sun in the morning sky" - this line doesnt really work with him😭 but it plays in my mind once in a while while thinking of him<3 especially in the (!! spoiler for the 2.1 quest? !! tho i think everyone finished it already) quest where everyone thought he was dead

Numb Little Bug - Em Beihold

"Do you ever get a little bit tired of life? Like you're not really happy, but you don't wanna die? Like you're hanging by a thread, but you gotta survive 'cause you gotta survive.. Like your body's in the room, but you're not really there? Like you have empathy inside, but you don't really care?Like you're fresh out of love, but it's been in the air.. Am I past repair?" - i actually found this song on an edit on tiktok with him and i think it fits so insanely good with him. i recently saw(again, spoilers for 2.2 quest?😭) the messages he sent to the trailblazer after argenti rescued him and i noticed he told the trailblazer something like "but i survived, and im happy about that". i cant tell if he was being sincere or not, but id like to think that he indeed was happy to get the chance to keep going; i like to imagine that aventurine has an interesting view on death, he doesn't fear it and he probably wished more than once he could just vanish, but i think he accepted that he still has a long journey ahead of him

The Death of a Bachelor - Panic! At The Disco

"I'm walking the long road, watching the sky fall" "I'm cutting my mind off, feels like my heart is going to burst. Alone at a table for two, and I just wanna be served.." - the first line fits so well with whatever happened with him and acheron and that whole black nihility hole; as for the song itself? the lyrics dont exactly fit, but the whole vibe is so him<3

i also made a playlist with some other songs as well if youd like to check it out(not all fit lyrically, ive added some just for vibes), you can check it out here!! aaand let me know if you have some songs that remind you of him! id be happy to listen to them<3

[kittenshift-17]

Darkness & Silence Chapter 32 Sneak Peek

“How do you wish to interact when we’re at Hogwarts?” she asked him seriously, since they hadn’t had the free time to discuss such things all holiday despite how much time she’d spent at the Hall, and even in his direct company.

They spent rather more time shagging than chatting when they managed to get any time alone - not that Hermione was complaining, even if she was deliciously sore in all the right places from having an abundance of satisfying sex with her new husband. The rest of the time, there were too many invasive ears around to listen to such a discussion. Hermione would really rather not discuss the logistics of balancing her education with the secrecy of their marriage when she had the likes of Bellatrix Lestrange sneering every other hour.

“You will be returning to your dormitory at Hogwarts, as you would’ve done were it not for our recent… entanglements,” he informed her coolly.

“I gathered as much,” Hermione agreed, not voicing the fact that she was rather looking forward to the privacy that would afford her. “I meant, do you wish to carry on as we have always done when interacting with you? Am I allowed to acknowledge you in public, or shall I strictly ignore you outside of classes?”

Snape set down his coffee mug and steepled his fingers thoughtfully.

“For the time being, I think it would be best if we carried on as though we share no additional connection than what we shared before the holidays,” he replied evenly. “It would not do to arouse the suspicion of the students or uninformed members of faculty of our changed relationship status.”

Hermione’s heart sank a little at the very thought.

“Does that mean you’ll go back to ignoring me and actively avoiding me like you were before the holidays?” she frowned.

Snape curled his lip, clearly annoyed at the reminder that he’d been trying to distance himself from her before Dolohov had snatched her off the platform and before the Dark Lord had irrevocably tied the two of them together.

“I will not actively avoid you,” he sighed. “But I will treat you like I would any other student unless we’re alone.”

Hermione bit her lip.

“Will that be often?” she checked, her heart fluttering like a caged bird. “That we’re alone?”

She didn’t think the magic of their marriage bonds would well like separation between them when they’d spent every night together since their wedding. She didn’t imagine it would be very comfortable to be parted from him for long stints, and Hermione had no idea how they would navigate the need for close proximity, and preferably frequent physical interaction, when they needed to keep up the appearance of being nothing more than student and teacher, rather than husband and wife.

“It would not do to draw unnecessary attention to ourselves and our situation, Miss Granger,” he reminded her a bit more gently than he might otherwise have done had he not sensed her mounting distress at the thought of being parted from him now that she’d had so much exposure to him.

“It’s Lady Snape,” she reminded him in turn, her voice soft and a bit reproachful because she’d been correcting him all holiday on the subject but he continued to insist on using her former title to address her – likely to keep from misspeaking when they were in public and returned to Hogwarts even if it did irk Hermione to no end.

“It is,” he allowed with a small incline of his head and a faint smile twitching at the corner of his mouth over her ongoing reminder of their newly wedded status.

“Will the marriage bonds allow us to be separated for long periods?” she asked, not having studied them enough to know what to expect. She ought to fix that, and she made a mental note that she needed to find more books on magical marriages and the associated connections and enchantments that the lordship ritual had imposed upon them.

“Not without some discomfort,” he shook his head.

“So, then, I may…  call upon you in your quarters?” she asked, her heart in her throat.

Snape searched her face some more, looking like he didn’t think it was a very good idea at all, and Hermione chewed her lower lip, eyes fixed worriedly upon her husband.

“You may,” he allowed eventually. One corner of his mouth quirked up a little when, unbidden, she wilted on a heavy sigh of relief. “You already know the way, and how to disable my wards that ought to prevent entry of anyone but myself except in the case of emergencies.”

Hermione nodded furtively.

“So I can visit?” she double-checked. “We can… It’s not like we haven’t already fucked in your bed at the school before….”

He smirked at the reminder.

“You may visit,” he nodded. “But you will not abuse the privilege, Granger. If I find you lurking in my quarters at every opportunity, don’t think I won’t assign you detention.”

Hermione smirked in return.

“Oh, yeah?” she challenged. “The kinds of detentions you were assigning me that got us into this mess in the first place?”

He scoffed, but he didn’t deny that he might use detention as a means of luring her back into his bed. Hermione gave him a small smile in return, hoping that whatever strange headway she’d made with him these holidays by merit of spending many a waking hour each day impaled on his cock in one fashion or another, wouldn’t be unraveled by their forced return to the social constructs of Hogwarts and all it entailed.

“You will have to practice being more respectful and deferential to me if we’re to get away with this,” he murmured even as he pushed his chair back and got to his feet.

Hermione followed him up, spying Tupsy peeking around the corner from the next room, ready to clean up after the two of them.

“Of course, Professor,” she drawled as she rounded the table to meet him at the end of it.

“Come, wife,” he said when he reached her, surprising her when both of his hands lifted to cup her jaw and tip her head up for the kiss he leaned down to press lightly to her lips. “Let’s make sure we’re packed and ready and then be on our way. You have no last-minute additions from the library to add to your trunk?”

Hermione hummed against his lips, her hands resting on his broad chest as memories of their early morning tryst flittered through her mind, recalling how he’d woken her with his tongue between her legs again this morning, just like he’d done on Christmas. It might be Hermione’s new favorite way to wake up every morning, and she wondered if there would ever be a day when she could do so every day, years from now, long after she graduated, and hopefully after the war against Voldemort was done, when she might enjoy his particular skills without the ever-present and looming sense of dread that hung over them now.

“Oh!” she squeaked, her eyes widening as she recalled the thought about books. “Yes! There are! I have to…”

She broke off, gesturing before she pulled reluctantly from his hold and hurried from the room, recalling the extra books she needed to add to her trunk for a bit of light reading.

“I’m departing for Hogwarts at the top of the hour,” he said in her wake. “Make sure you’re ready, or you will have to find your way there without my assistance.”

“Yes, Professor,” she smirked over her shoulder as she hurried up the stairs with him in her wake.

“Insufferable little know-it-all,” she heard him mutter unkindly, if a bit fondly before she was out of earshot as she continued on the now well-trodden path to the Selwyn Hall library.

Read the full story here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13863633?view_full_work=true

[airu27-rkgk]

Happy 1.5 Anniversary!!!

I want to draw something to celebrate and I’ve only just finished this today 😆🎉

Some thoughts below:

To start with, I want to convey good memories, how R99 stories have accompanied me so far. And since the current patch is related to movie, I make the bottom part like a film reel. 🎬🎞️

🎥 Reel #0

Team Timekeeper! Or at least, some of the main casts in our team! Vertin, Sonetto, Lilya, Regulus, Sotheby, Druvis III, Matilda, X, MedPoc... I would draw more, but this is getting too crowded as is.

What attracted me to R99 is how gorgeous the art style is. Every character is different, with their own personality and point of view, their diverse skills. One day, I would like to max the level (and resonance?) of each and every characters. That’s a far off dream, perhaps, but slowly, slowly, I’m sure.

🎥 Reel #1

One of the first impactful memories from when I started playing R99 was Schneider. Her soft voice calling out to Vertin. She’s very beautiful in red. Even when she’s rather small, she has such might inside herself, she’s brilliant.

In the early chapters, Arcana and Forget-Me-Not made great antagonists. Miss Arcana’s piercing yellow eyes. Forget-Me-Not’s grand piano that he played in the midst of incoming Storm. R99 early stories are interesting, I have replayed them many times because I want to understand the storyline.

🎥 Reel #2

The reason I started playing R99 is Pickles! I remembered looking through social media and saw Pickles, a six-star non-human character. First of all, this game has six-star? I was relatively new to gacha games and I thought five-star was the norm for the highest tier, so I was intrigued. So I downloaded the game and got Pickles. He’s the bestest boy.

On that note, this patch was the first event story that I experienced. As I didn’t have many characters and most were not levelled up, I remembered struggling in the fighting stages. Later, not-so-recently, when the Rimet Cup story was re-released again, I attempted those stages again and I’m really happy that I can now passed them easily!

🎥 Reel #3

Now, the Note on Shuori was particularly memorable for me. I learned about how there’s a true-limited character in this game, and so I pulled for Jiu Niangzi. But Getian—

Getian was the first character that I pulled based on looks alone. He’s very (very, very) beautiful, I love his eyes, the sharp eyelashes, the texture of the strands of his hair, his range of emotions (I love his pouting face UuU), his wings, how it shines, the individual feathers that you can admire in green, blue, stripes of white, and dark shades.

When this story first came out, I remembered how I did not understand what was happening 😂 The story used many different terms that I’m unfamiliar with and the plot twist confused me so much. I reread the story again just last week and I can safely say I understand the story now (lol) When you didn’t know what the characters are capable of, the story is very confusing imo

🎥 Reel #4

Apeiron gang my beloved! When the story patch first came out, I wasn’t really into 6 (surprisingly? hahah) The story was meant to make 37 shine the most and she does. She shines very bright. I really love the sparkle in her eyes.

It’s not until recently that I’m really into Apeiron found family. I like their banters, their connection to each other. They hold a special place in my heart.

🎥 Reel #5

Vereinsamt. The pain. I want to include Lucy as well, but she’s a little out of place in the middle of Vienna, so I decided on drawing Marcus, Kakania, and Isolde only.

Marcus and her sachertorte. I love Marcus’ design! Her sailor-like clothes and books, the lantern she holds. She’s a dear.

This story has so many details, the different pov telling the struggles in different places. Not just Marcus, Kakania and Isolde, everyone in Laplace and Apeiron. It's a deep story that tells a lot. This patch is the one that pulled me into the fandom for real.

🎥 Reel #6

For the last panel, I debated between drawing Tristes Tropiques or the current Show Down in Chinatown. But I decided on this one in the end.

First of all, I love White Rum! To have great non-human characters are amazing, it’s one of R99’s best points imo. I always love sea-related stuff so White Rum has truly hooked me since first glance.

And of course, there’s Lopera, Anjo Nala, Mr. Duncan, and everyone else that formed the story. This patch has great battle music.

I can’t draw all the characters, there are just too many! R99 has great art and each character is unique.

Lastly, I’m looking forward to what the future story will bring! Thank you so much for the many memories, happy 1.5 anniversary! 💙

[velvetvexations]

TERFs are so bad at making bottom surgery sound bad. Saw one say "--- (read: trans woman "vaginas" and trans man "penises") is something only erotic to a necrophile". Which was obviously intended to be off putting but i dunno I think it sounds kinda metal???. N there's one i just ran into calling neovaginas "axe wounds" which I KNOW is meant as an insult but oh my god it makes them sound so badass to me

lmao it was bad enough I felt compelled to censor it but yeah we're all about reappropriating TERF conceptions of trans people here

I'm white myself but I've been noticing more and more that white trans people have such a victim complex and believe themselves (ourselves) to be the most oppressed group ever. An acquaintance of mine (a famous trans activist) recently said that "trans people are the only people that face hate for how we dress". Like??? what about ethnic and religious minorities??? what about All Women including cis ones??? She also loves using antisemitism as an example of what "could" or "is going to" happen to trans people while treating it as something that was resolved after ww2 and is not very much still rampant

People are drawing swastikas on Synagogues and calling it praxis!

Idk if you ever saw this comic, but about a month ago, a trans man made a jokey joke comic about making an appointment at the gyno where the receptionist was confused. The ultimate punchline was that he's trans, and thus is the one who needs the appointment. It's v clear that the main point of confusion is that the receptionist thought she was talking to a cis man, who would have no real need for gynecological care. In the "I'm upset when not about me" crowd of TRFs, they decided it was transmisogynistic bc no *actually* the receptionist thought the trans man on the line with a deep voice was really a trans woman. Because sometimes trans women are mistaken as men over the phone. Idk if they just missed that it wasn't a primary care provider or what, but it was v clear to me that the idea was confusing a trans man over the phone for a cis man. Cis men generally don't need gynecologists. Trans men can need gynecologists. It had fuck all to do with trans women on a subtextual level. I can't fathom how they thought that.

TRFs CANNOT fucking read holy shit I hope they fucking apologized to the author

sorry to bring up PT AGAIN ik you are probably tired of hearing about it, but one of the last posts.i read before unfollowing was a comparison of transandrophobia believers with James Fucking Somerton. and its ironic as fuck to me because alot of critiques of Somerton can absolutely apply to them. equating any critique as harassment based on their identity is a big one and its been driving me nuts to see trfs envoke a James Somerton comparison when they are doing similar shit to him

James Somerton is a convenient lightning rod to compare every bad queer person for the rest of time

As a trans male I hate the weird, white knight shit that i see so many other men doing rn, like shut up will you?? Trans boys are not "cowards" or "incels" for not putting themselves in harm's way for (ESPECIALLY) CIS WOMEN Or trans women/girls. I'm so sick of seeing that stupid shit. Those guys are on the same level as military recruiters in my opinion. Just as predatory and fucking dangerous. Like not to be a dick but why do they seem SO convinced that trans boy must be naturally so much stronger then the average trans girl? Hello???????? Hello???

Man is the Strong Gender.

honestly of it wasn't for the lesbian separatism shit i would think that some transfem TRFs want some kind of tradwife-style "macho manly man protects his wife who is a delicate flower incapable of both violence and self-defense who will die if you look at her too hard" thing with a transmasc partner or something, given the way they actively applaud transmascs who talk like that. which would be totally fine if it was a weird fetish thing but this seems to be an actual expression of their politics (also am i just old or does anyone remember when the dominant feminist rhetoric was "women are just as strong as any men and can protect themselves")

it sure feels like that doesn't it lmao

IN WHAT UNIVERSE ARE WHITE PEOPLE INVISIBLE lmaoooo that post was too much

seriously lmao

I really dislike "trans women are the women of women" cuz once again we're using woman to mean the lowest position in a hierarchy

as always

Just something I wanted to share bc it made me really happy: when the forcefem blog made that post about how forcemasc isn't revolutionary and makes no sense or whatever the fuck, one of my transfem mutuals talked about how stupid the aforementioned post was and expressed her support for forcemasc and transmascs in general. I had no doubts that she was supportive of transmascs but that made me super happy!

Hell yeah, I'm really happy for that anon!

Happy Christmas eve if u celebrate ^^ hope ur havin' a good evening [or whatever time it is over where u live]

you as well <3

Logging into Tumblr after a chill movie night with the family only to see you've murdered a guy, holy shit

my tits were too heavy once more

saw another transandrophobia denier, this time on my dash specifically

terrible

Hell yeah it's always nice to find a casual history enjoyer online who's not racist

I do my best.

[fraternum-momentum]

This is so so stupid but I got very happy when I read in your strawpage you are from 2003 too, I've lurking around seeing your art ever since DOL caught my eye and you're one of my favourite artists so having that bit in common is cool! I also love your DOL designs, especially Kylar's and Whitney's but the fave gotta be your PC she's so pretty! Seeing your fanarts keeps tempting me into posting dol art of my own so if I ever draw dol I'll draw our wet cat (Kylar) together >:)

Also if you haven't played Fields of Mistria or Homicipher I definitely recommend them! The first one is similar to Stardew Valley in the sense you're a farmer, you can decorate your house and romance any of the bachelors/bachelorettes but this one is more fantasy-like and the artstyle reminds me of 80s anime and Sailor Moon. The second came out recently and I haven't played it yet but I saw the trailer and some fanarts; you wake up in a terrifying unknown world where you have to survive and the romance options are very creepy men, one of the appeals of this one is trying to learn the world's language, it looks fun

Wish you a nice weekend! PS: Is it ok to follow you if I like South Park? I know DOL is darker when it comes to sexual stuff but just in case I prefer to ask boundaries

HELL YEAA '03 BABIESS 🤝🤝 ngl that dol era was probably peak bc i was fucking around with a lot of my mooties and just interacting with the fandom in general, it was so funnnn :3 and ky and whit r probably the most popular ones out of the 4 school li's (designwise my favs r still my fallen syds bc pretty) so understandable (⌒_⌒)d

but thats insane that u find my pc pretty bc thats probably the most boring, most generic looking self insert ever 😭😭😭😭 so many people have cooler looking pcs out there so im flattered that u like mine 😭😭😭 ??????? for some reason 😭 ??????????

and you totally should !!!! (if u want to of course) despite me not posting as much dol as i used to i still love seeing dol fanart !! but do whatevr ur heart desiresss and no pressure :3

and i've actually been following the development of fields of mistria ever since i saw march in my twt feed !! i just want to wait for the full release so i dont have to keep repeating playthroughs n stuff (its the same with hades 2, i just tried out the beta test bc its free so i went why not lmao)

OKAY. I KNOW i said im gonna play homicipher but like,,,,,,,,, this is def just a me thing but when everyone keeps saying to play this thing or watch this thing (arcane,,,, homicipher,,,) it just disincentivises me to do it 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 especially when i know im gonna like the thing. IDK WHY,,,, maybe its kinda like the same philosophy as someone telling u to do the dishes when ur alr on ur way to do the dishes and like ok i dont want to do it anymore ?? idkkk its weirdd

Re: P.S. you can follow me from whatever fandom ur in ! as long as youre not a minor and u have either 'adult' or your age in bio then its all good

SORRY I WAS KINDA CONFUSED AS TO WHO U WERE TALKING ABT I THOUGHT IT WAS THE HORSE 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 i think u meant celia from tpof :3 ? that's probably one of my favorite drawings ive done ! i dont remember how i did it anymore thou,,,,,,,,

AND YEAA!!! i used to be an infamous irumatsu shipper back when i was active on my main on insta ! my silly lesbiabs,,,,,,,,,, they r everything to me,,,, my favorite chara is shuichi tho ♡

CATCHING UP WITH LORE 😭😭 U DONT HAVE TO DO ALL THAT,,, u arent missing out on much dw 😭 ty tho,,

weirdly enough i never got into creepypastas. i def stumbled into them from time to time like slenderman, jeff the killer, ben drowned n shit but i think ever since i got scared shitless by the smiledog.jpeg (??) i never stepped my foot into creepypasta territory ever again 😭😭😭😭😭 ok i like horror but im really really bad with jumpscares and suspence and stuff. i get scared easily orz,,

ive heard of it ! seen a lot of (really insane) fanart for it !! havent played it tho but i like some of the designs :3 i keep seeing the guy with the horns? malleus ? hes cute,, well tbh all of them r cute so its a hard choice

[kirasworldofwords]

Okay so. I can't stop thinking about that pregnant Seb drabble. So...once their kid is born and some time has passed. Maybe Sebastian thinks about what Kimi said and he starts trying to entice him to knock him up again 👀

I love the way you think, Em, he so would-

And because I know it would make you happy, have this drabble. 🫶🏻

It had been a little over a year since their daughter was born, and every time Sebastian looked at her cute little face - which held many of Kimi's features, like the shape of her eyes, for example - he couldn't help but remember how it all came to be.

Him ending up pregnant with his mate's child, growing life in himself for the very first time in his own life.

His mother was over the moon when they told her. His father as well, although he was in disbelief at first. The man was barely fifty and already on the way to becoming a grandfather of a little baby girl - the sheer thought of that would freak out anyone at first.

Kimi's parents were just as ecstatic, happy to know that their Alpha son carried on his family line. They were even happier to learn that their granddaughter wholly took after her father in terms of assignation - much like Kimi, their little princess turned out to be an Alpha.

This meant Sebastian was now outnumbered. But he'd live.

Recently, though, he couldn't help but think about how his pregnancy went. How wonderful of a journey it had been for him, and how much he actually missed being pregnant. And he could tell that Kimi missed seeing Sebastian all round and cute, too.

As such, he came up with a devilish plan.

Let's entice our Alpha into getting us knocked up again.

Oh, how often he thought to himself 'Vettel, you are a genius' as he impatiently waited for his next heat cycle, for once hoping it would be a stronger one. And the universe apparently heard his voice, seeing as it didn't disappoint.

One night, Kimi was in bed peacefully reading a book, reading glasses on his nose, which Sebastian particularly loved. Their daughter was fast asleep in her crib a room over, babyphone turned on and always on guard on her as well as her parents' bedside tables.

This was the perfect opportunity, especially given that he knew his heat was just about to hit. It was always a peculiar feeling the German Omega would get before it would hit - and usually, it'd hit during the daytime, but sometimes, it happened at night, too.

This was one such time.

Thus, as soon as he felt the first wave of lust and want crash down on him, Sebastian made it his mission to pester Kimi.

"Kimiiii... My heat is coming on..."

The Finnish Alpha looked up in slight interest, disregarding his book. The change of smell coming from him could be noticed for miles - the way his scent suddenly changed from peaceful to interested, the kind of scent that made Sebastian shiver in anticipation.

"Oh? It's pretty late this time, isn't it?"

Sebastian only pouted and shrugged, his cheeks already tinting pink as the first bead of sweat rolled down his forehead. He made quick work of pushing himself onto Kimi's lap and straddling him, leaving him no time to think about his next move.

"How about we use this? I'd love to have another pup with you, Schatz..."

The smirk on Sebastian's face was all Kimi needed to draw himself a picture of the situation. He wordlessly closed his book and laid it aside, his glasses following on top of said book before his hands wandered towards Sebastian's hips, gripping them lightly.

"You little menace... It's barely been a year. Are you really sure?"

The scent Kimi gave off was gentle and caring, yet interested still all the same. The Omega on his lap cradled his Alpha's face in his hands, drawing them closer together as a desperate look crossed his face.

"Please, Kimi... I want you to get me pregnant again, please... I loved being pregnant last time, I really did... and I'd love to feel that feeling again, Liebling..."

He pressed a quick kiss against Kimi's lips before leaning in to his ear, whispering into it enticingly.

"Knock me up, Alpha... I know you want to. I'm so ready for it, bitte..."

Kimi's mind refused cooperation for a moment, having successfully crashed from Sebastian's enticing begs for the Finn to impregnate him again. Once it finally went up and running again, however, he swiftly flipped them, damn near ripping his sweet Omega's underwear down and off before he made quick work of burying his first two fingers inside Sebastian, making him moan hungrily.

"What my sweet Omega wants... he shall get. We'll try for another pup then."

[corishadowfang]

Questions for 15 Friends Tag Game

Tagged by @siarven--thanks for the tag!

Rules: Answer the questions, then tag 15 people.

ARE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE?

Uh...not really but also kind of for my legal name? It was the name of a character in a soap opera my mom watched, and she liked it enough to use it for me.

My chosen name...also kind of falls under the same umbrella, but for different reasons, and, uh...comes with a story. So like--I was really into fantasy stories when I was a kid/teen (I say like I'm not still into them now), and I loved making up "fantasy" names, which...basically just meant shoving a bunch of letters together until I got something I thought sounded cool. One of those names was "Coriora." For whatever reason, I fell in love with this name, and it's shortened version, "Cori," and I used it for everything. Pokemon nicknames, random characters, a self-insert OC...

And my cat. Who I adopted a few months before I made my email and FF.net account. Which is when I officially started using the name "CoriShadowfang" as my primary username online. Teenage me didn't even have the thought in her mind that she could possibly identify with the name "Cori" enough to adopt it as her own, nor did she think of the potential consequences of sharing a name with her cat.

...On the plus side, it's funny to call my cat "Cori Sr.," and watch how people try to process that.

WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED?

Uh...I think Friday night? I'm pretty sure it was about something I was planning for a story, aha. (I cry VERY easy, haha, and the thing that spurs it does not necessarily have to be sad.)

DO YOU HAVE KIDS?

Do pets count...?

WHAT SPORTS DO YOU PLAY/HAVE YOU PLAYED?

I was signed up for baseball, basketball, and soccer when I was a kid, though of those, soccer was the only one I actually liked. I ended up running cross country and track in high school (though after that ended up running only for fun, since, uh...the competitive part of that wasn't very enjoyable for me, aha). In college I did fencing, which I loved and often miss a lot, but there...really aren't many places that offer fencing around where I live. I did do some long sword for a while a couple of years ago; transition to that from fencing was an interesting experience, since the fencing muscle memory...did not go away. ("What do you mean I have to hold this with two hands?? ...What do you mean I can't just stab them?!") That ended up being pretty expensive, though, so I only got to take lessons for a few months. It was still fun, though!

DO YOU USE SARCASM?

Depends on the situation! I use it a lot less online, because I'm worried about coming across as, like...rude or mean. When I do use it, it's often toned down a lot. Offline, it depends on who I'm around, and how they react to it. (Or if I'm just...getting really frustrated. Then it tends to come out more.)

WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE?

Uh, that's...a good question. Online, it's definitely their interests, and...I guess it's kind of also the same offline? If I'm given the opportunity, haha. Like--if I see you're wearing a Pokemon pin or reading a fantasy book or something, I'm immediately going to be focused on that, haha.

WHAT’S YOUR EYE COLOUR?

Mostly blue; the bottom of my right eye has a patch of green in it.

SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS?

Happy endings! I never got into scary movies very much, aha.

ANY TALENTS?

Uh...I guess writing probably counts? I'm also a pretty good distance runner.

WHERE WERE YOU BORN?

The middle of nowhere, Pennsylvania.

WHAT ARE YOUR HOBBIES?

Writing, haha; I joke that it's all I do, but uh...it really is most of what I do. Besides that, I like drawing, reading, playing video games, and hiking. I guess playing card games/board games might also count? But uh, I do that a lot with my friends and family.

DO YOU HAVE ANY PETS?

Yes! Cori Sr. is still around, haha, and I also recently adopted a puppy named Luna. Obligatory pet photos:

HOW TALL ARE YOU?

5'4''

FAVOURITE SUBJECT IN SCHOOL?

Probably unsurprisingly, lit/creative writing, haha. I also really liked most science classes, too; learning about nature was one of my favorite things in school, and any sort of labs where we could go outside and actually study plants/animals were amazing.

DREAM JOB?

If money weren't a concern, and I could just do anything I wanted for the rest of my life without worrying about how to pay the bills...I would love to just write stories full time. Writing really is one of the things I'm the most passionate about, and I'd love to be able to pour my all into it without worrying about getting too burnt out or needing to take on extra jobs to make ends meet. Maybe one day...

I will tag...wait I need 15 of you...uhhh @starlightwayfinder, @cq-studios, @recusant-s-sigil, @scalacaelumx, @hallowed-nebulae, @serenedash, @thetwilightroadtonightfall, @rosie-kairi, @fin-al-mix, @kicktwine, @zmwrites, @talesabound, @gotchaocha, @bookwormally, and @lightwithinthedarknessu, if any of you want to do this! Absolutely no pressure, though! (And feel free to skip/leave out any you might feel uncomfortable answering/don't feel like answering.)

[kaybeecreates]

Time has taken much from us. In many ways I am little more than a shadow of who I was back when you knew me.

ever draw or write something and hurt your own feelings?

i have so many feelings about Sirius and Remus. i have for, at this point -- god -- over twenty years.

i imprinted on both of them like a baby duckling when i first read about them in Prisoner of Azkaban ~1999, and no ship of mine has been as enduring or as intense as wolfstar. my image of each of them became crystallized over the course of about five years, too, since i read the book long before the movie came out in 2004.

i somehow, until recently, completely missed the online popularity of wolfstar and the marauders fandom in general. i was just wandering out in the desert with my own headcanons from the livejournal days of the HP fandom. (in case you didn't already infer this, i am, how you say, old?)

it feels like a total revelation to discover just how many fanworks about this pair are out there. and i thought that this functionally a dead ship, snuffed out by the events of HBP and DH. so imagine my delight and surprise at finding fanworks made as recently as this month, this week, even, with active engagement on tumblr, tiktok, etc.!

i decided to start working on my own fanfic, something i had never really done before with much seriousness. maybe it will someday see the light of day under a pseudonym? it's sitting at 73k words exactly rn and isn't finished lol 💀 while i continue working on it, i am trying to stay away from reading other fanfic to avoid accidentally stealing from it (SO, i still haven't read ATYD, but... i will...!)

if there is an upside to my wandering alone in the desert all these years and not having read major fanon works, it's that you're getting a pure, undiluted and hopefully new/different/interesting interpretation of these guys from me.

anyway, thanks for reading all this! if you're part of this fandom, pls interact i want more friends to talk to about this haha

ETA: disclaimer -- hopefully it goes without saying but JKR is bigoted, transphobic trash now and there’s lots of really awful stuff in the HP books (fatphobia, internalized misogny, slavery apologism???, antisemitic racial coding of goblins, and much more i've forgotten to mention just off the top of my head), but these books and these two characters specifically meant and to an extent still mean a lot to me so… make of that what you will 

[unmaskthewriter]

Free Bird {Arthur Morgan x F!Reader}

Summary: Arthur accepts a future that he will not be a part of.

A/N: Another angsty one here. I just don’t have many ideas for fluff. Tried to improve my writing a little with this one. Hope you all enjoy it.

Warnings: canon character sickness, angst, suggestions/mentions of character death

Word Count: 925

Arthur sat on an old log, gazing deeply into the campfire �� the flames licking desperately at the wood until there was nothing left. The glowing embers smoked lightly until Arthur fed the fire, admiring its warmth in such a cold, empty place such as Beaver Hollow. It felt as though a curse lay heavy over the camp. Before their arrival, a group of people known as the Murfree Brood inhabited the cave system behind camp. ‘Vicious people,’ Arthur thought to himself, shaking his head. His chapped lips pressed together. He wasn’t often scared of people or things, but that wild bunch had rattled him deeper than you had seen him before. Arthur managed to rescue a poor girl missing from Annesburg from their clutches. Unfortunately, the poor, young woman saw things Arthur was certain she wouldn’t forget in a lifetime. His mind drifted, wondering if that had been you in the girl’s place. He would tear himself apart if you had to ever witness such viciousness, such brutality. You had seen enough in your time with the Van Der Linde gang from Sean’s death in Rhodes, to the most recent death of Miss Molly O’Shea.

“Didn’t deserve it, Arthur… she just wanted Dutch to return her affections..” You told him on that fateful evening.

“I know, darlin’, I know.”

Javier was standing at the edge of camp, standing guard with a rifle in hand. Arthur was barely able to make out his figure in the dark wood line. The others had retreated to their tents long ago, refusing to lie awake for another moment in such a dreary place. Arthur was the exception, unfortunately. His mind drifts back to the escape from Blackwater, how the camp was so lively after leaving Colter.

You were seated with a few others around the fire upon the night of Sean’s rescue from Blackwater. Uncle raised his beer, beginning to sing.

“Come bustle, bustle, drink about,

And let us merry be,

our Can is full, we’ll pump it out,

And then all hands to sea!”

Sean stood, extending his hand to you. The two of you linked arms and danced while Uncle sang loudly for nearly the whole camp to hear. Arthur stood back, leaned against a tree with a beer in hand as he watched with a small grin.

“If something happens to either of them, at all, it’ll be the death of us all, Arthur,” Dutch mentioned to him, observing the festivities from his tent, “they’re the youth of this… all of this. Those two truly exhibit what we are about. Besides, who will carry on our legacy when us old men are gone?” He continued on proudly, mildly teasing toward the end.

He draws his journal from his satchel, carefully flipping through the worn pages, taking time to reread and then some of his artwork. Opening to a fresh page, he pulls out a pencil and begins putting it to paper.

I always thought I knew. Knew Dutch, but that didn’t turn out so well. Either he’s showing his true colors, or I was blind to the person he’s always been. And my poor girl is in the middle of it all. I’m dying and she don’t know. If there’s one thing left to do, it’s to get her to safety before I get much sicker.

He sighs softly, closing the journal and returning it to his satchel before standing. With heavy steps, he approaches the tent you both shared, peeking in through the tent flaps.

You lay asleep on the bed, the blankets pulled up to your waist and your hair splayed wildly over the small pillow. Only wearing a thin chemise, Arthur didn’t understand how you weren’t cold. If you were, you certainly didn’t show it. It was nearing fall, which meant more rain and colder weather. Arthur shivered at the thought of another winter spent North. Quietly, he enters the tent and kneels down beside the bed, clearing his throat to stifle a cough. Arthur’s large, calloused hand gently brushes your hair from your face. A sleepy smile appears on your face but you do not wake.

“I love you, darlin’. I always will, no matter what happens… I’ll always be yours… I don’t know much. They always said I wasn’t too smart, maybe I’m not… but.. I know I love you. I want you to live a long, happy life… away from all this… you deserve everything I can’t give you… but Lord, I tried. I tried…” Arthur spoke quietly, tears threatening to escape, but he quickly blinked them away. He wanted to enjoy quite possibly one of the last nights he would have with you, without sadness and tears. Carefully changing into his union suit in the dark confines of the tent, he clambers into bed with you and pulls the blanket to your chest, placing a gentle kiss to your chilled, bare shoulder. He already grieved so much for you, and the life you could never have with him. A small cabin in a serene meadow with the sounds of wildlife and the giggles of children filling a summer afternoon. The both of you would denounce the outlaw lifestyle, and live off the beautiful land. The home you two build would be filled with love and laughter.

Instead, he would succumb to his sickness on that cold, lonely mountain, watching the sunrise as his last thoughts of you having successfully escaped from the life you desperately wanted to leave for months eased his mind and pain until there was nothing.

[marshmallowprotection]

Mystic Messenger 7th Summer Event Analysis

Anyway, you're all here because you want me to talk about what I speculate is going to happen when the photo drops because it will be the 17th when the image is revealed and that means we're going to start seeing it in the early hours of the 16th over here on this side of the planet.

So there is a little bit for me to talk about but not too much because there is not too many details going on but there is enough that I can speculate this or that.

Unknown is in the center of the image so he is the focal point. I am not upset about that because like I said earlier, I didn't expect to see him on the title screen ever again apart from being a cute little chibi. There is a difference between seeing him in the stylized chibi artwork and seeing him in the flesh if that makes sense.

I am about to change my icon on Discord so fast to be Unknown that it's not even funny.

When I noticed that he was clearly holding a guitar, the first thing that came to mind was that merch photo that I shared because it seems as though it is the same purple on the guitar. It is either a very deep red or that hot purple color. I tried to color sample what I could for the surface area of the guitar and it appears to be more pink than purple but you can expect given the fact that Saeran has magenta hearts.

I do miss what he was coded with purple since that is my favorite color but I've come to love pink as my second favorite color thanks to him as a character. See, that color started to appear more and more with Jumin since Jumin's hearts are purple, but it's always interesting to think about how some merch had Unknown with purple and then Jumin with blue back in the day.

I don't think anything is different about his outfit since he appears to be wearing his tank top and jacket, the only thing that stood out to me that was even remotely different was the fact that I couldn't tell if it was a red stripe on his pants.

He has a stripe on his pants but I don't know for sure if it was used here or not. They don't always draw him with his pants showing and when they do, sometimes it can be hit or miss if they add in that little detail. His boots aren't in this photo so I don't get to make a cowboy joke, unfortunately.

The zippers in his jacket aren't always drawn, either, so that is one thing that will never be consistent when it comes to art like this.

That's really all I can tell about him from what we're shown which is why I can't really say all that much about him except for the fact that he is giving lead singer of an emo band. I can't believe we came full circle and we get to appreciate him being the one that invites you to join his emo band. I, for one, I'm ready to join his band and I already have the set list. I'm ready for it.

As someone whose favorite band is Fall Out Boy, of course, I'm ready for it.

Cheritz will sometimes label things with Ray or Unknown, but we'll all know who it is once we scroll down and see who's in the photo. That's just a thing that happens but it bothers me. Ray is not Unknown, but sometimes he's been referred to as such in merch or media, and I do think Unknown was referred to as Ray a few times in the past and it always throws me off. Names matter!

I like when they're labeled appropriately!

I do think the little Twitter event we recently had for the anniversary when they showed us GE Saeran as Unknown, it was meant to be an Easter egg to prepare us for this specific picture.

Anyway, what really threw me off about this picture when I was trying to review it was the fact that it appears to be split into three parts. It would... be easy to assume that Unknown is on the stage with V but that doesn't appear to be the case.

I speculate in this situation that the picture is cut into three parts.

V is in the audience or he's trying to get into the music festival. Rika is trying to advertise with elixir with everything she has in her arsenal. Unknown is on stage doing his best to do what his Savior told him to do. They each have their own corner to play and that's interesting to see. I don't know what I expected when I saw Mint Eye Idol Group... and I still don't know what we'll see tomorrow.

Did you guys know that Monster energy will get musicians to drink branded cans that just have water inside to better sell the product to people? Yeah, that's the only thing I could think of when I saw this... and well, now all of you are going to be aware of it for the rest of your life.

Monster is already bad enough for you, and I don't think you want to hydrate with elixir at a concert.

At the very least, if you wanted to go on a trip, you're definitely going to go on a trip if you drink enough of that.

Because of the way the image is juxtaposed, I think Rika is off center stage or in the crowd trying to sell the product. I don't know where she is but it can't be on stage with him just because of the way the image is.

Which is what led me to believe that V couldn't be on stage with him because of his posture and the poster behind him. I don't know what the composition of this photo is going to be but from what I've already seen here in this blurry promo image, I think it's going to be really visually interesting.

Another thing I noticed when I was looking over the photo was the fact that I couldn't tell what V was wearing. There's a part of me that wondered if he was trying to fit into the crowd by wearing his believer robes. But, I don't know for sure. The color looks dark enough to be that, the only thing I could think of once I had that thought was one simple question:

What if it is band merchandise for Unknown?

There's another part of me that wonders if V is trying to hand out flyers because Rika told him to. Which again leads me to wonder who designed the soda can and the flyers because it certainly wasn't Rika. When she designed something for Mint Eye it is done in a stylized manner that does not lead itself to inviting somebody to join her.

I mean, I don't think you're going to join her when you see her idea of recruiting someone and it's this:

In universe, she thinks she is a great designer but everyone around her knows the only thing that she can make is what happens when you learn how to use clip art for the first time and you go overboard. I love it. I really do. It speaks to me. I think she's great at this style but ask yourself this question, Would you join a cult if this was the only flyer for it?

If something in universe looks good design-wise it's because she made Unknown, Suit Saeran, or Ray do it. I mean, yeah, can those designs be simple? Yeah, but they get the job done. I mean, look at those photos! I feel like I'm being led to Mint Eye, THE CULT, when these photos are given to me.

TLDR;

[nomdepen]

Penelope’s encounter with Ben had made her hopeful. Though he was still reluctant to trust her again, Pen had hope that she might be able to restore it in time. When she awoke, Rae was already rapping at her door.

“A letter, Miss Penelope.” The urgency in her voice was undeniable and it made a wave of worry rise in her chest.

Pen blinked the last remnants of sleep from her eyes and looked down at the letter in Rae’s hands. Had Ben written her already? It was a small note, barely enough to be considered a letter. It wasn't concealed with anything but merely folded into fourths and handed off at once. Such a simple note, and yet the possibilities of what might be written on it made her heart soar.

An invitation to Bridgerton house was always a welcomed surprise for Pen. But when her eyes moved to the signature, she nearly screeched with… excitement? Abject horror?

She made quick work of dressing and hurrying over to Bridgerton house, her hand trembling the entire walk over. Colin was back. He’d returned from his travels unexpectedly and he wanted to see her. It should’ve made her happy to think she was one of the first faces he wished to see upon his arrival back home, but all she felt was a sinking feeling of dread.

He awaited her in the drawing room, the same room she’d swept into numerous mornings with a smile on her face. But this time, her countenance only bore anxiety.

“Colin?” Pen croaked, a hand resting over her chest. He turned from his spot at the window and beamed at her, his puppyish smile making her cheeks burn with shame.

“Pen, I’m so glad you came. I know it is rather early, but I returned just this morning, and I couldn’t wait another moment to see you.”

It sounded too good to be true and, after the past few weeks, her heart was restless.

“Pen?" He repeated, concerned laced in his tone. "Is everything alright? I thought you would be rather glad to see me.”

“I am! Of course I am,” She muttered, fastening a gracious smile onto her lips. “I’m just surprised is all. I wasn’t expecting you to return so soon. And so unexpectedly.”

“Yes, well, I couldn’t’ve sent word ahead of time without Mother arranging an entire ball in celebration of my return. I simply wanted to come home and see my family. And to see you.”

Her cheeks ached as she fought to maintain an even expression. She was glad to see him home, it had been so lonely without a single Bridgerton to speak with. But so many things had changed since he’d been gone and she wasn’t even sure how to begin to explain her shift in demeanor.

“You must tell me of your travels.” She offered half-heartedly, but it was just enough to spin Colin into a story. Pen watched him with adoration, this man she'd loved for so long, listening to his tales of travel and adventure. Her smile tightened when he spoke of the beautiful women he'd met along the way, but she was determined not to let the cracks in her façade show. She would be happy for him, even if it meant destroying herself in the process.

After what must’ve been a half an hour of recounting the adventures he'd had abroad, Colin finally let out a sigh. “I apologize for talking so much, Pen. I’ve just had such an amazing experience and I wanted to share it with you.”

“Make no mistake, I love hearing your stories, Colin. But I really should be getting back home before Mama wonders where I’ve been. And,” She’s quick to add. “I’m sure your family would like to have some time with you as well. They’ve surely missed you as much as I have.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right. I also intend to call upon Miss Thompson this afternoon.”

“Marina?” Pen blinked, unsure if she heard him correctly.

“Yes, I wish to inform her of my return as well. And to see how she’s doing. Have you heard anything from Miss Thompson recently?”

“Crane,” She corrects with a sad smile. “But no. The last I heard of Mrs. Crane, she was recovering from the birth of her son. And arduous task, I imagine."

“Yes, well, perhaps even more reason to pay her a visit. I’m sure she’s quite lonely in such a new landscape.”

“Yes, I suppose she must be. But, Colin, I really don’t think—”

“Well, I shouldn’t keep you any longer, then.” He closed the distance between them and extended his hand. “It’s been wonderful to see you again, Pen. We must catch up again some time soon. I’m eager to catch a moment with you before Eloise can hog you to herself.”

Pen shakes his hand and opens her mouth to retort, to explain the reality of the situation, but Colin simply smiles and brushes past her in his beautiful eloquence, leaving the Featherington girl speechless and frozen. Her smile fell and her eyes burned with the threat of rising tears. He hadn’t changed at all, it seemed. Or, rather, he’d changed exactly in the way she’d feared.

Her Colin had always been on the playful side, charming and charismatic, with a boyish need to please people. Perhaps even a little flirtatious, but he had always harbored a shyness to his person that Pen so admired. Now, it seemed that his travels had only ushered him further into manhood and the charming boy she once knew had been replaced with a blossoming rake.

She blinks away the oncoming tears and wipes at her reddening nose with her hand. If she was going to break down, she needed to at least wait until she returned home and was safe behind closed doors. If her heart were to shatter further, she wanted to be in solitary confinement when the jagged pieces fell.

After a beat to collect herself, Pen straightens the fabric of her bodice and takes a deep breath. She would overcome and endure, the way she always had. She would prevail in the end, but it would take a bit of suffering to get there. Quickly, Pen moves to the door and, as she does, her eyes catch a familiar face.

Ben. She lets out a soft gasp. Her chest tightened and a breath hitched in her throat. She truly couldn’t handle this right now. Her heart was already beginning to splinter and she wasn’t sure how long she’d be able to hold it together.

“Mister Tallmadge, good day.” She bends into a weak bow, her voice painfully strained by emotion. Pen sniffles and tries her best to hide the pain that crackled through her entire body. She can't bear to meet his gaze, so her eyes remain glued to the floor. She had already made Benjamin's life difficult enough, she needn't burden him with anything else, especially not more of her girlish woes. “I was just leaving.”

While they watched Penelope's retreating form, Caleb nudged Benjamin in the ribs. "She's got it bad, don't she?"

"Leave her alone," Benjamin admonished, the color rapidly rising in his cheeks. "You're not nearly as suave with the ladies as you seem to think, so you are the absolute last person who has any room to talk."

The whaler sneered. "Well! If I weren't feeling so hospitable, I might be offended by that remark." Tugging on his friend's sleeve, he encouraged, "C'mon, then. Might as well make good on our promise!"

Despite the false smile Benjamin wore, his gaze didn't leave Penelope's retreating form -- not even long after she'd disappeared over the horizon.

--

The night at the tavern was...uneventful. Although Benjamin allowed himself to speak with womenfolk and be (falsely) jovial, he couldn't quite bring himself to flirt back. The women had quickly lost interest in his half-hearted attempts, and only Caleb gleaned any luck from the whole affair.

Sullen and miserable, Benjamin graded Gregory's latest assignment while absently tapping his foot beneath his desk. Good God, he could scarcely stay still -- what was the matter with him? Could he really, truly allow himself to be controlled by an event that was no longer his to desire?

As if challenging his thoughts, a couple of voices arose from the foyer. Lifting his head, Benjamin recognized the masculine, soft-spoken timbre to be Colin's, and the second dulcet voice belonged to...

"Penelope," he murmured, a shock of realization shooting up his spine. In the other corner of the room, Gregory spared him a questioning look, but Benjamin was already rising from his seat. "You wait here," he entreated. "It sounds like your brother's back from his trip."

Gregory's eyes widened. "But if he's back, I want to visit!"

"After you finish those mathematical exercises," Benjamin agreed. "When I return, we can go out and visit him together."

The boy appeared a bit affronted, but otherwise nodded and returned to his work.

Benjamin, meanwhile, was heading down the hall to greet the third eldest Bridgerton son. But just as he moved to announce himself, he realized something about their conversation was not one to be interrupted. He remained silent, his hand upon the doorframe as he peered at both Colin and Penelope, both of whom had significantly lowered their voices.