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

[bethfuller]

old doors to the land of the dead

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[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.

[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.

[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;

[sorealis]

Life update no one asked for but I need to rant and I don't want to bother anyone who knows me irl. It got surprisingly long so under the cut it is.

I have been so tired for a year now. It was definitely a mistake doing what I did last year, studies-wise, but at least I'm now a huge step closer to graduating some time. If I ever manage to figure out a topic for my master's thesis. (Anyone want to give me ideas?)

I went to the doctor, he said "maybe it will get better when you don't have to work for a while" and I said "yeah, maybe". It didn't. I was tired the whole summer. But I could still do some things, not nearly as much as I would have liked (like write fanfiction lol).

But do you know what happens when you don't do anything for a while? No money. To get money I have to work. But I can't work and study at the same time. I tried that, the whole of last year and look where we are now. Worst part, my "job" last year was just practice so I don't even get paid for it. I've been living without any income for years now. (When I say "any" I mean not a livable wage. I have a job and I do get paid, but it isn't enough to live on)

I'm not completely without help, however, I don't really qualify for benefits the way things are right now. Soon I will, but I'd rather not because it means I will have to stress about more things. They tell me to "go to work" and I totally would, but a) there are no jobs here, this is a city with 40k students out of 140k total residents, how many part-time jobs do you think there are, and b) I can't work. I could, but then I can't study. If I don't study I won't graduate. I will work for the rest of my life as soon as I have my degree, okay? I just need to get there first.

Stressing about all of this is making me feel even more like shit. And now I can't sleep. I can't believe I told my doctors just a few months ago that "no, I definitely have no trouble sleeping, I just get really tired really easy" and my body was like "would you like to have trouble sleeping, here we go". This would be fine if not sleeping just meant that I'm just equally tired all the time instead of just most of the time. But my eyes hurt and this is where I draw the line. I can't see.

And I know exactly why I can't sleep and why I panic every time I go outside and why I get so tired all the time. And pretty much most of this could be solved if I had financial security. But I don't.

So now my regular doctor referred me to a psychiatrist, because apparently all my complaining sounded a little too much like I have depression. Could be true, but this doesn't feel like the last time I was depressed (as in the last time I was actually diagnosed with depression, which gave me nice confirmation that yes, I'm not crazy and this is actually thing that has a name) Maybe I'm just exhausted trying to fix all the stupid shit my past depressed self did when I thought planning for a future I thought I wouldn't have was stupid.

Here I am. Recently hit 30, which is more than I ever thought I would. I wish I was 22. That's how many years I feel like I've missed living.

Also, definitely the least of my worries now, but I need to stop looking at the stats for my fics, it's not good for the rest of my meager mental health. I shouldn't care so much if people I don't know, and who have probably never once interacted with my fics, want to keep reading. They don't owe me anything but neither do I owe them anything. There's a constant mantra of "you're writing for yourself not them" in my mind these days. (Maybe I'm simply cursed to never hit that 200 subscriptions threshold ;_;)

[laplacesdevil]

@autismrobot5 yes. Yes tou can. I am SO sorry it took this long

We'll go over Miss B first because MMMMWAAAHHH!!!!! I LVOE HER!!!! YOU DO NOT KNOW HOW MUCH SHE IS JUST SO!! OOOOOOO!!!!! All of this will be under cut because it's gonna be Lengthy. Most information can be found on their toyhou.se profiles as well! (They're in the Main Projects folder!)

Miss B is a reporter! Specifically, she broadcasts to an outer audience (technically, us), making most, if not, all drawings with her canon. She also hosts podcasts, but she prefers to be seen the most! She has fourth-wall breaking powers where she speaks to the audience! I'd like to keep her backstory a secret for now, as I'm working on it on-and-off, but I will say she's drastically different from who she was back then and WILL stuff down all negative feelings bc of it. They hate talking about their past. I. Still haven't figured out their reporter voice, but their normal speaking voice is bugs bunny. They are both bunny-adjacent.

Miss B has her own universe btw! It's a floating-in-the-void studio mixed with a penthouse. Multi-floors. Middle floor is her whole studio. There's a compartment in the studio where all folders of possible candidates to interview. Btw the folders kinda hold like an wikipedia-level amount of knowledge on those characters.

Oh yeah forgot to mention, but Miss B also has a little sidekick of sorts! His name is Frankie :3 (he/ted/hun) n he's a friend's oc! At the moment, while said friend also doesn't know Miss B backstory, Frankie is Miss B's cameraman! Also he is 2. (He's actually like. 7-10 I'm gonna be honest I don't remember.) Miss B and teds parents are on pretty good terms with each other. Miss B also cares a lot for Frankie and always makes sure ted stays behind when it's on dangerous interviews + when hun is sick. Miss B doesn't actually need a cameraman, as it knows it's always (or usually) being watched, but it appreciates the company! Think of them having a slight Sonic-n-Tails friendship

I need you to know that she was originally my fem Springtrap human design before FNAF 3 came out OK? I'm putting her old pic here. Her name was Boldenzie, if u even care...... also her red suit is inspired by old Spamton. Sorry for the gunshot. As for Miss B herself, she came to be because i thought boldenzie was pretty. and i wanted her back. she was actually gonna be a feddyverse oc (Rivals with gracie) but it wasnt workin. also she was gonna be a bit like junko from . the. the. the. the rompers. i thought it would be fun for her to be multiverse, i think bc of santana

now..... santi..... My dearly beloved.

so. Fun fact. He's been meant for MANY projects before, but I couldn't make him stick, or I couldn't figure anything for the universe he was in. His "most recent" (abt a year ago, tbh) universe, he was named Marikit Guinto, nicknamed "Calamansi"/"Kalamansi". He had a partner named Rey Basa (they/it), nicknamed "Juniper"/"Juni". Tammi's siblings were in the universe too, but like I couldn't figure out what the universe could be like, so I trashed it. Tammi's siblings are ok btw. Would love to draw them digitally some time. Santana's original design + personality were based off of vry2k gordon because he's so fucking pretty

So, how did Santana FINALLY get to stick? So you see, I had a dream where it was like fnaf roblox building mode. And then there was a pretty cute health inspector because Of Course There Was. I don't remember much abt what happened, but when I woke up, I IMMEDIATELY went to drawing him. Thats when I noticed "Hey this looks like cala". Not sure how I got to him being multiverse, tbh, but then i incorporated his past selves

anyways. to ACTUAL santana stuff.

santana is an angel. He has a true form, but he never feels quite comfortable exposing it, unless in dire situations. He was aware of his past universes, and used to answer to a being called The Almighty One, who he sees as the one who created all the universes he's been in. His backstory goes into it a bit, but basically, after so many requests of a new universe, The Almighty One offers Santana a deal of providing him a universe: record all of the universes that had been created. Santana was desperate and accepted it, and The Almighty One sends him off.

so like that was a lie btw. well. not PARTICULARLY a lie, but it's an imposible task. The Almighty One isn't even the one who creates the universes, and there's different ones created every second.

OH OH OH. WAIT IM COPY AND PASTING THIS SHIT FROM MY DISCORD MESSAGES

Anyways I think I've said this before, but part of Santana knows his task is impossible. But he doesn't want to admit it. He doesn't want to admit that all this work is for nothing. Because if it's for nothing, then what does he have left?

He tries to make himself believe it's for something. To keep going. That the promise will be kept

By the dubs. he was also lied to that he couldn't interact with others. He can! The last time he did, The Almighty One FUCKED with him. Look, I've drawn Santana a few times and he seems elegant and shit, right? I promise you he is NOT that man is emotionally constipated but he's forcing himself to stay stoic and unattached because if he lets one vulnerability he's scared he will not be able to handle it.

So, unlike Miss B, he has to record everything himself in a journal he conjures up! btw i need you to know miss b sometimes has santana conjure up accessories for their outfits smtimes.

oh this is important. santana and miss b relationship. they certainly do got sm stuff btwn them. problem is that they both have partner problems (i.e., for santana "i watched my boyfriend fucking die in front of me"). Miss B acts real sweet on Santana (she calls him Santi!) and finds him really fun and interesting! Like, wow! Another multiverse traveler! A pretty and smart one too! So fashionable!!! And there's no info on him too? Wowza... Santana, on the other hand, does enjoy Miss B's company after going so long without interaction (will not admit it) and believes she (and Frankie) are the only ones he can interact with safely. But also he pushes the both of them away because he's kinda scared otherwise. He does care for them though.

Santana and Miss B want to get close to each other, but at the same time, the two of them keep their secrets guarded HARD. they complement each other really well.

anyways here's their playlists

miss b: youtube spotify

santana: youtube spotify (missing a song </3)

btw i should note this bc i havent gotten to drawing it yet, but santana sometimes gives himself tits because he likes havin em. he's got some kind of gender going on and i want it

[citrus-cactus]

Hello! If you don’t mind, can you answer 3, 16, and 21 for the ask game? I hope you have a wonderful day/night 💛

Of course, Sluggy! Thanks for the ask 💛

Under the cut because this ended up kind of long XD

Here is the ask game if you're interested!

3. Least favourite things to draw?

Hmmmm well. I always struggle with backgrounds and just like… inanimate objects. I think I find them boring to practice! Would much rather draw a cute face or a body in motion, so shockingly, that is 95% of my drawing output XD

6. Which artists inspire you right now?

Ooh, well, all of my digi-mutuals for sure! There is so much amazing fic and art on my dash. Y’all are constantly producing so much high-quality stuff that it’s a little overwhelming sometimes!! But don’t stop, this is a great problem to have (though it makes me slow to respond, particularly to long-form fic orz).

Here are some other (non-digimon) artists I follow who have been hugely inspiring to me recently:

Trungles (Gorgeous art-noveau style! I have their tarot card deck)

Umishima Senbon (Bought their artbook at a con recently. I WISH I could draw that many beautiful lived-in spaces and inanimate objects!!)

Popsicle-stick (Dracula art)

Marghen (Dracula art)

Professorcalculusstanaccount (Tintin art and animations)

21. Weirdest thing you’ve ever drawn?

HMMM. That is a REALLY difficult q. to answer, because I used to draw a LOT of stuff that is utterly incomprehensible out of context (and it's something I still kind of enjoy doing, hehe). So here are some sample "no context is the best context" drawings I have on my hard drive (they're all REALLY old; most involve Tai, and some could be considered a little racy/in poor taste, take that as you will):

(Daisuke gets the better of Goth TK; a pogo stick and a hippity-hop is involved. One poem and one mini-fanfic now lost to time may explain how we got here.)

(The oekaki board I used to be on had a Whole Thing about Dai being infatuated with Tai. This drawing was a response to someone else's drawing that happened at Halloween. The person in the Sailor Moon costume is Matt; Tai's hand is visible and he's dressed as Tuxedo Mask.)

(gOD I miss oekaki! I would kill for the ability to do that kind of screentone shading so easily again DX)

(Recreation of a dream I had, before the words "Fox" and "News" were quite as bad as they are today 🤮 Digimon used to air on the Fox channel in the US, and they did a LOT of weird promos. My subconscious made her own)

(Panel of a comic that is meant to look 0_0 but isn't really, I swear!!)

(Satirical commentary on certain digimon fanfiction trends circa 2010 and earlier, via Kate Beaton meme)

(Teen Girl Squad/Digimon crossover ft. the digigirls pre-Tri and Joe. Cheerleader! So-And-So! What's-Her-Face! The Ugly One!)

I'll be honest, there's probably a LOT more weird stuff in my sketchbooks. I don't really want to comb through years of old drawings for the most WTF-inducing ones, but suffice it to say, they're there, and the fact that the sample size is THIS big almost certainly says something about me :3

Phew. If you made it this far, thanks for letting me ramble and show you some weird stuff from the vault! I hope you have a great day/night as well!! 💛

[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.

[spacecadetspe]

On this day, last year...

Oct. 7, 2022

I meant to speak a bit more about my therapy this week; I had hoped it would provide more insight, but this time was a bit strange.  EMDR is strange to begin with, harrowing and emotionally exhausting.  Honestly I had hoped to find out more about my triggers, and what the roots of them are, so that I can at least ameliorate their symptoms.  This time, we started off with my target image, but this time focused on the nightmares that emerge from it.

Part of the reason I have nightmares isn't because I'm scared of X, but because I am rather very angry with him.  My throat is tight with rage, and nothing seems to quell it.  And I realized, over the course of this session, that it was because I had no agency in my marriage.  Worse still, X preferred to keep it that way; so much so that he manifested what I thought was a mark of ownership on my cheekbone.

I'm no stranger to such marks.  Deities and entities galore have placed their markers on me to denote devotion, or to possess me in some fashion.  Even some of my most favored individuals have done so.  I can't say I blame them, per se, but it's time for me to recover those pieces of myself.

X never wanted that for me.  So, instead of a mark, he placed a sort of funnel on me that would siphon off whatever he wanted or needed at the time.  A singularity on my right cheekbone... perhaps more elsewhere.  And, during crucial moments, he would use that singularity to alter the potency of my willpower.  On any particular day, perhaps I would be too tired to resist, or be so confused or anxious that I lacked the capacity to make a decision, or perhaps I would just suddenly come down with a throbbing headache.

Using the power of these funnel-like spots, he forcibly removed approximately HALF of my agency, almost like a metaphysical lobotomy.  And so, as I poured more and more effort into filling those empty spaces, I became more frustrated, more tired, more dependent... even more of a puppet.  It was.. diabolically perfect.

But how does one get rid of something that very closely resembles a black hole?  In physics, there's no clear answer to this.  When a star collapses into a black hole, essentially its gravity takes over, infinitely compacting any matter and reducing light output to nil.  How was I to come back from this?

I realize, somewhat belatedly, that I spend an awful lot of time asking "how" to do things when I'm HOPE.  I can literally just DO ANYTHING.  Why should I even bother asking "how?"

To put it in fairly simple terms, I just... reversed the polarity of the spell.  Instead of drawing my energy and my agency away from me, it reversed course, spilling all my missing pieces back into me.  It's quite a lot to process, and I had a good bit of help from the guides.  One, an old man who called himself Basil, sat with me and patted my hand as I went through the emotional process of putting myself back together.

I'm going to have to defragment my brain again... perhaps this weekend will allow me the opportunity.  I wonder if I should commune with Mother again, but this may not be the best time... when my mind is still scattered in pieces everywhere, I mean.  I might not be able to process such a large quantity of information.

Oct. 7, 2023

I recall it was only recently that I lashed out at Fortitude for insisting X couldn't do anything to me. He can, and does, and I was tired of feeling invalidated, so I raised my voice at Fortitude for trying to verbally minimize X's presence.

It's one of many things I regret. Granted, what I said was not untrue, but getting upset like that seems to push him more and more into silence, when that's not at all what I want. From time to time, Fortitude will shut down and say he feels like he can't talk about anything with me because he has no idea what kinds of things will trigger me.

For the most part, my answer to this has been the same. "My triggers are not your responsibility. I would rather you trigger me, so that I know where I most need change in my life, than shut down and be silent in our partnership." Being triggered is awful, and it's hard, but it's those points when I learn what I need most, and that's incredibly important to me, as an agent of change.

I don't want or need him to solve my problems for me. Sometimes I just need someone to listen. I can pull myself out of my own mire; I just need a cheerleader on occasion. I hope he understands, but this has been something that has happened a number of times.

I don't ever want to have a stagnant relationship where we are "just okay" with each other. I want us to grow and fight and thrive together. And that means showing each other where our weak points are; doing the hard work of protecting and challenging each other.

I am glad that he is kind and cognizant of my triggers, and doesn't want to hurt me any more than he has to. But I can't go through my life avoiding the things that hurt anymore. And I frankly get upset at the way he dodges or hesitates before difficult issues, because it reminds me of X and how he practiced his relationships.

Wow, that was a sudden realization, just now... X spent so much time manipulating his way around and out of responsibility for my needs that all I want is someone who is willing to be honest. And I mean the kind of honesty that is heavy and full of love and kindness. That takes fortitude... and I wonder if it's something he's not ready for.

My tears mean so much to him, and this feels like something I've gone through, myself. I didn't want to make the people I love unhappy. I realize now that that's not something I can prevent or delay. There will be times that I can say the truth out of love, though. That's what I really want.

I want to do better, be better. And that means facing all the things that hurt me. It means taking responsibility for my own traumas and convincing others that I don't expect them to carry these heavy things for me. I just... want someone to hold my hand.

That's kind of where I am with Phobetor now; gently, lovingly making him aware of my boundaries and his own shortcomings. He's been hanging around lately, and I don't much mind. His presence doesn't frighten me anymore.

He's asked me many times now what I see when I look upon him. My answer is always the same, but I think he asks because he's not altogether sure I'm honest; that perhaps at some point my answer will change. And he's so convinced that I'm going to hurt him for the role he's played all these millennia that even his gestures toward me are stuttering, frightened.

He would likely find that insulting if I pointed it out.

[dustedmagazine]

Listed: Tomten

Photo: Tony Kay

Tomten are a baroque pop quartet based out of Seattle, Washington. Brian Noyes (vocals, keys, guitar) and Lena Simon (bass, vocals) (Kairos Creature Club, formerly of La Luz) met in 2008 and began demoing each other's songs at Cornish College of The Arts. Their latest album, Artichoke, is less prickly than the name suggests, drawing influence from the acid folk of the Incredible String Band, Bridget St. John and John Martyn, the lushly arranged soul of the Delfonics and the country pop of Gene Clark. Jennifer Kelly wrote about the disc in the last Dust, noting that “Tomten’s songs billow and swell in that frictionless, effortless way that often indicates great care and craft.”

Here Brian Noyes digs deep into the archives via two compilation series. He writes, “There are two compilation labels that have meant a lot to me over the past few years, Grapefruit Records is a subsidiary of Cherry Red and issue primarily British Psych and Folk, and Cairo releases incredible 1960s-1970s soul comps. I decided to pick five of my favorite tracks that Grapefruit and Cairo turned me onto.”

Jackie McAuley — “Turning Green”

I was familiar with Jackie McAuley being the former keyboard player of Them and the other half of the amazing and underappreciated folk pop duo Trader Horne with Judy Dyble (Fairport Convention.) But I wasn’t familiar with any solo work he had done. This song instantly stuck with me. I love the string arrangements and stately piano. In an alternate universe it could’ve been at the end of a 1970s Hal Ashby or Robert Altman movie.

Carolanne Pegg — “Open The Door”

I could listen to this song over and over, it’s so fun. I love Carolanne’s vocals on it, kind of shrill and mystical, like proto-Kate Bush. I also love the cosmic banjo rush during the later chorus and the throaty guitars.

Matching Mole — “O Caroline”

I’ve always loved Robert Wyatt, but I’d missed out on his earlier group Matching Mole. This is such a sweet and touching song. I love the mellotron and wah guitar and the line — “if you call this sentimental crap, you’ll make me mad.” Gotta love Robert Wyatt’s wooly little voice.

Robin Williamson — Strings In The Earth and Air

This is the opening track off his 1972 solo record “Myrrh.” Strangely enough, I first heard Dr. Strangely Strange’s cover of it — I love both but prefer Robin’s. Such a haunting and beautiful song. I believe the first half is part of a James Joyce poem. I want it played at my funeral… I also love Mike Heron’s solo record from a year or so earlier, Smiling Men with Bad Reputations. Two over-looked solo efforts from the Incredible String Band.

Heron — “Take Me Back Home”

Tomten has loved Heron for a long time, so much so that we covered their tune “Yellow Roses.” They are all over Grapefruit Comps, so I wanted to include them for that reason. This song is off their second record Twice as Nice & Half the Price and it is my absolute favorite. It’s such a loose and lovely performance. Makes you wish you’d been hanging out in the house with them having some frothy ales.

Bettye Swann — “Then You Can Tell Me Goodbye”

Bettye Swann has so many killer songs, this one really sticks with me. Great morning song. Love the production and backups too. John Holt has a cool version on A Love I Can Feel as well, but Bettye is best.

Diamonettes — “Don’t Be Surprised”

Great tune from a somewhat obscure Miami group. Classy strings. They also have another tune I love called “Rules Were Made to Be Broken.”

The Raelettes — “Many Rivers To Cross”

A fantastic song and so many good versions, Jimmy Cliff and Nilsson… But I hadn’t heard this version until semi-recently and I love the mood of it — somber smokey horns. The Raelettes were backup singers with Ray Charles for a time, and later changed their name to The Cookies.

Eddie & Ernie — “I’m A Young Man”

I LOVE EDDIE & ERNIE! Their voices together are fabulous, this is one of my favorites. There is an awesome comp called “Time Waits For No One” everyone should go out and buy now!

The Ordells — “Sippin’ a Cup of Coffee”

A good song for ruminating… Eerie, dreamy and gorgeous.

Various Artists — Strange World

On a final note, there is a compilation by a partner label of Cairo, Pyramid Records that did a release called Strange World described as “Cosmic and Earthly Doo Wop and R&B from America and Jamaica” that if you come across you should absolutely purchase. I probably play it at home once a week, hehe.