#this is my first time posting my writing i hope its good

[closetcasefabray]

jesus saves (i spend)

i have been writing parts of an avatrice college au for two gd years now. the ideas & writing are scattered between here (one of the tags below should work), my whatsapp convos with @snowandwolves, on discord, my dinosaur laptop that crashes, & my email. it’s a fucking disaster but whatever so am i & not once in my life have i had my shit together so this is all unsurprising.

SO what i’m saying is, here’s the only part i have ‘formally’ written in fic form bc i posted that other ficlet. doing this made me almost throw my dino laptop & my phone out a window on several occasions—that’s why there isn’t more. but i just wanna share this.

more notes & rambles at the end.

//

You notice her because it's syllabus week of your freshman year, it's an 8 AM class, and you're fairly confident you're still drunk from the party you attended last night, but she raises her hand and correctly answers a question posed by your theology professor without hesitation. Your professor, Father Vincent, was likely hoping for a good guess at best, but there she is, exceeding expectations from the moment she speaks. You pickup on an accent, which you would find incredibly attractive if you weren't so thrown by her perfect and concise response, like a well-prepared speech is always readily accessible in the back of her mind—a girl with all the answers. A young woman, really. 

You, however, are not—you're just a girl. You're just a girl who shows up to her morning classes smelling like the bar or the house party from the night before, like the weed you started smoking almost immediately upon arriving to university during orientation week, like the cigarettes you smoke because it affords you a little more quiet outside and an excuse to borrow a lighter and talk to a cute boy or a pretty girl.

You're just a girl who technically died, existed in nothingness for a whole minute before being ripped back into a reality of blank ceilings and the sound of your heartbeat in your ears. You're just a girl strangers prayed for after they heard about the American child pulled from the wreckage. You're just a girl who didn't get any credit for teaching herself to stand again, to walk again—and if you’re being completely honest, you’re a girl who’s incredibly bitter that a god you never saw in that one minute got all the credit and none of the blame—for taking your mother from you, for taking years from you that had to be spent healing from god’s grace or lack thereof. 

You're just a girl who is tired of being told to look at her life as an expression of holiness, who thinks it is more so the consequence of indifferent stardust. But you still look for the beauty in that, in humanity and its flaws—these meaningless beings in a vast universe, creating and destroying their own little, myopic worlds on this spinning rock. Some will dream of poetry for their lovers, and some will dream of arsenals to level cities. You wonder how many lips were pressed together in a final kiss versus hands clasped together in prayer when fire fell from the sky in the name of God. You wonder what that says about faith.

You'd like to think if your mother could see you, she'd laugh at the irony because once you were baptized, she never took you to church. God finds a way, so you spent five miserable years in a Catholic orphanage before you were sent back to America. People said you were lucky to have two years in a foster family at your age, but it felt like living with strangers who were tasked with the minimum of keeping you alive. Then you were moved into a home for teen girls with a nun at the helm, and that’s where you actually felt fortunate for the first time in years. It was there that Mother Superion helped you with your studies and college applications. So here you are, tipping into a hangover in one of the oldest buildings on campus, learning theology from a priest.

But your mom would understand. (You don’t remember much of her, and you try not to think about that too deeply, or else you have to deal with the resulting ache that comes from reaching inside yourself for something that’s gone.) You have spliced together what you can recall into a short reel—you mom buckling into your car seat while humming a show tune, showing you how to fold a pizza slice and telling about a city famous for their pizza, and holding your hand in a museum in Spain, promising to take you to another big museum closer to home, the home you never saw again. So you promised yourself and the parts of her you carry that you’d make it here.

You would have had to pay almost full tuition if you wished to attend your reach, requiring immense debt, so you ended up at the school that offered you a ticket to the city and a hefty enough scholarship you could get through four years without requiring loans or a full-time job to afford it. (You first refused to use your mother’s death as a sob story in you application letter, but Mother Superion put her hand on yours and said, So rarely do these letters contain truth, but do not be afraid to tell yours. In telling your truth there is a sadness, yes—and I know you detest pity—but of all the things that have been taken from you, do not feel guilty for taking some of it back to live a better life.) You remember getting your acceptance letter, and looking up at the sky and flipping it off, praying whatever god hears you, No thanks to you!

But your bitterness temporarily takes a backseat in your mind as you look at your classmate, beautiful in the refracted light shining through the stained glass window, speaking so graciously of god you'd think Jesus were in the room, about to hand her his latest work. It's poetry, bordering on scripture in a new tongue, and you'd almost be a believer if it didn't sound as if she had repeated these words—practiced—enough times to believe them herself. You wonder what that says about her faith.

If the nuns at the orphanage had spoken the gospel as she does, maybe you'd be here for different reasons. You're fascinated.

Behold, you are beautiful…

//

i promise this fic gets lighter & has some silliness. so some notes/tangents:

this is 100% self-indulgence bc i heard ‘write what you know’ & ran with that shit. when i visited a friend at a state school in a college town i was so so confused bc it was just a diff campus culture entirely. then i was going to make this set in an ambiguous city, but i literally have saved places in google maps that would be great places to kiss someone sooooo you get NY avatrice.

likely setting this before instagram & smartphones bc i’m old/lazy & i can.

the title is from st. vincent who my friend introduced me to in college. “paris is burning” changed my brain chemistry & so i listened to her music on repeat for ages—“jesus saves, i spend” is on the same album.

father vincent will not be a bad man or evil professor. he will be as he was before adriel—a lost man who found himself through god & still a little broken but caring & devout.

also song of songs/song of solomon is like… the only part of the bible i fucked with in theology class so that’s the reference at the end. also another line used in another scene with JC, chanel, & ava written in v rough form. maybe will share that later.

this is meant to be a fic with a post-grad sequel as well. not much written of that but a lot of ideas everywhere.

once i figure out where i’m moving (hahahaha i’m so stressed), i’ll consider a ko-fi or something (i wish emails & names weren’t shown though). but mostly i will likely need a second job to save up for an actually good computer/macbook. once i have that i’ll be able to post on ao3.

anyway thanks for reading & being here :3

[shirefantasies]

Marti it is Moss *does small dance* sending in a Hobbit imagine should it strike your fancy to answer. If not feel free to delete you come first and foremost! Your blog is always a delight and i read everything you post like its the morning newspaper.

Im wondering if you would write a hobbit headcanon for a reader who uses a mobility aid like forearm crutches!

I myself use forearm crutches (named Catcher and Holder a la Dwalin) for dizziness and weakness due to neurological issues, but there are many reasons for their use from joint pain to hypermobility. Sometimes people use them all the time and other times they are only used when they have flare ups (some have to have them available all the time in case of The Return tm)

Sometimes you use one and sometimes you use two. All depends on condition severity, needs,what youre doing, and preference

Even when you have a flare up you may not prefer to use them for short distances ie in your house some people choose not to. I use mine on the steps unless im doing something hazardous and dont want to risk a fall (and be able to walk in general)which ive become prone to over the last two years.

You still live your life and do what you do sometimes its a bit different other times its not. Sometimes you have a stick or two.

You can make a lot of fun decorations and functional tools like cupholders and pouches for your crutches and stickers make them unique and customizable. Honestly the biggest challenge for me is mugs and stairs+ other two handed tasks 😩 let me see someone smack a warg protecting their bestie and then lament not planning their cuppa retrieval rofl.

Im wondering how our lads would have a time with this- not acceptance wise as i know Dwarves are very accepting. More along lines of shenanigans wholesome fun bonding the good daily stuff that you write so beautifully and capture each one of them so well!

Thank you so much and if you have any questions please feel free to reach out

🌿🏹moss🏹🌿

Hello Moss 🥰💚 OMG Catcher and Holder that's perfectttt! Sorry this post is so fuckin long in the making but hopefully you enjoy it and this captures it well! I confess I don't personally use a mobility aid at this time so I may not have the greatest frame of reference 😅 but yeah I hope you like these little moments! *does small exit dance in return*

Warnings: canon typical violence in some

Thorin's Company + Reader With Mobility Aids

Balin

“Might I ask who built that?” Polite as ever, Balin motioned to the chair upon which you had affixed a pair of wheels. “I did,” you answered, “I was the only person in my little village who needed something like this.” “Well, you are quite the craftsman. Would that you had no ties to your hometown and the Lonely Mountain could snap you up! You could see those skills built up tenfold.” “R-really? I came here to Laketown for something just like that! But I’ll confess I think you will be a far better teacher.” Winking, you gave Balin a smile he mirrored. “You’re resilient. Smart as a whip, too! It would be my honor.” “And after all,” you added, “If anyone would know how to mount a crossbow on the arms, it would be dwarves!” At that, even as polite a dwarf as Balin could hardly help bursting into a wicked grin.

Dwalin

“Nice axes.” “Forged them myself,” Dwalin answered with a nod, “Grasper and Keeper. One grasps your soul, the other keeps it.” “How funny,” you remarked, raising your forearm crutches, “I call these Catcher and Holder. Same idea only with the body. Suppose that isn’t nearly as impressive, though.” “Impressive?” Dwalin burst out. “We’ve all got our battle scars. Our wounds. Never be ashamed of that. The fact that you’re still up ‘n’ going? Be proud. I can show you plenty o’ scars myself!” At that last bit, Dwalin began lifting up his tunic to reveal toned skin paled in some places and darkened in others by all manner of scars and at that, you couldn’t help shyly laughing. Proud indeed.

Thorin

Yes, the king had not denied you entry into his company when Gandalf had recommended you, but he had raised and furrowed his regal brow in the skeptical look all but branded into your mind. He’d asked Gandalf if he was certain, and from then on the fire in your heart blazed. Certainly Thorin treated you as an equal, giving you the tasks he gave all others, but he had been yet to see you in battle and you knew that was where your proof would solidify. In fact, the first time wargs closed in upon you, you were one of the first to run back at them. Hearing the way Thorin called your name, but thoroughly ignoring it in favor of landing a solid crack upon the nearest adversary's skull. Luckily your body was having a better day anyway despite all the walking, because you spun and smashed your way through the orc pack, especially once you saw the way one bowled Bofur and Dori over. Fire took over your heart and eyes as you swung your mace until you could swing no more, all but deaf to the cracking of heads and the clattering of your allies’ blades through that pounding adrenaline. At the end of it all, Thorin approached you, his expression surprisingly mild. Then it broke into a smile. “The wizard was right about you,” he told you, clapping a hand to your shoulder, “Invaluable in all respects indeed.”

Oin

“Oh, that’s clever, that is!” “My eyes are up here,” you quipped, crossing your arms and smiling sardonically down at the dwarf bent over peering at your wheels. At that, Oin tilted his head up to look back at you, giving a raucous heh heh heh of laughter. “Never seen anything like this lot before,” he commented, shaking his head and running a hand over the frame of your chair, “You’d think dwarves’d be the first to make ‘em! ‘S beautiful.” Your lips parted wordlessly for a few moments before you spoke, head still slightly tilted. “Beautiful?” “Course!” Oin replied, smiling widely as he rose to his feet again. “A real beauty for sure. A marvel, actually. It is quite the privilege to get to see it in action!” “No one has ever told me that before,” you replied quietly, a smile spreading across your lips.

Gloin

Orcs rushed you from every side, sending you scrambling as fast as your crutches could support you. Carrying a sword aside it all was about as unwieldy as one imagined, but you knew no different. In fact, your best strike that fight had nearly taken a whole arm off. Catching sight of you, though, the nearest of your blood-spattered adversaries grinned and gave a savage kick, sending your crutches flying from beneath you. Teetering, you pitched forward, trying to catch yourself with one arm and steady your sword with the other as the shout rang out. “You think you’re so clever, you great filthy buzzard? I don’t think so!” With a savage growl of his own, Gloin flew into the fray, and with a violent swing of his axe the orc’s head was sent unceremoniously tumbling to the dirt. “Serves ‘m right, eh?” Gloin asked with a smug look as he extended a hand, helping you up, handing you your crutches, and even gently dusting you off.

Bifur

You had seen the way he glanced your way. How his eyes traced the lines of the crutches extending from your forearms, the extensions of steel that made walking less painless. And running more painless if you were a charging warg on the receiving end of a bash to the face. Bifur had seen the way you slid your arms free to motion and sign to him, indicating the interesting things seen along the road. If you had a tendency to go nonverbal, he would aid you in removing your crutches when you needed to sign. Such things had been floating in your mind when you sat by his side, asked him if he understood in a way. You certainly felt understood in his presence, after all. Bifur glanced away with haste, but still you caught notice of tears in his dark eyes, just for a moment. A moment before the smile spread across his face and he leaned in, gently resting his forehead against yours- carefully, of course, so you barely felt the brush of the axe against your joined skin.

Bofur

“Bofur!” Uncaring how earsplitting your scream may have been, you charged forward, heaving one leg before the other as fast as you could while still keeping a hand on your walker. Which was faster than even you realized, sped by adrenaline and rage and urgency all pounding through your ears. Loading your crossbow again and again, you fired three successive shots into the assailant’s side, shoulder, and finally with the last you struck his ugly head and knocked him down onto his ass. For good. Sighing heavily, you leaned for just a moment on your walker frame before making your way to Bofur’s side, this time at a less painful pace, and turned it around to take a seat. Leaning down, you reached for his hand. “Bofur, are you alright?” “I am thanks to you,” he chuckled, his hazel eyes fixed upon you fondly, “Maybe I need to get myself one of those. Seems to aid the aim, having something to lean on.” Grinning and blinking back tears, you procured a cloth and a strip of bandage and started to dab away the blood on his shoulder.

Bombur

“Hope this isn’t rude…” You were surprised by the sound of Bombur's soft voice coming from your side, turning from the journal you wrote in and setting your implements aside. A part of you wanted to roll your eyes, well aware of all the 'not rude' inquiries you'd received over the years as to why you carried crutches, especially if some days you did not. However, knowing this one came from sweet Bombur softened you. He actually meant it. "...But what's the hardest part of having those?" You couldn't resist a snicker at the thought that immediately rose to your mind. "You'd really like to know?" "Yes," he nodded, "If I may." With another little snort, you smiled and told him, "Mugs." "Mugs?" "Mugs and stairs. Can't tell you the number of times I've spilled on my way up. Anything that takes two hands, really." "I see!" The conversation ended with Bombur's eyes lighting up. At least you thought it had ended... Several days later, he came shuffling up to you with that same sweetly eager glint and his hands behind his back. "I've made you something," he told you, pulling out an open cylinder of steel and unfolding another little piece from it, "Hope it works. It's a little mug holder. Go on, let's see if it fits." Snapping the little unfolding piece to your crutch, Bombur watched your face break into a grin as it remained in place. "This is the sweetest thing anyone has done for me, Bombur. Thank you." "You deserve it," he replied, smiling fondly at you.

Dori

“I wouldn’t exactly mind having one of those.” “A cane?” You arched a brow. “I’ve always thought it made you look distinguished,” he admitted with a smile. “Now that is a new one,” you commented wryly, “All for use of my leg.” “Nothing wrong with it,” Dori shrugged, “We all do what we must. Seems a shame you’ve such a plain one, though.” At that, your proverbial ears perked up. “As opposed to what?” “Well,” he shrugged, “I don’t know. Haven’t you seen all the nice silver tips and things they put on canes?” “Ah,” you nodded, “I see what you mean! It is a bit of a shame I haven’t anything to decorate mine with, isn’t it?” “Haven’t anything? What do you call this?” With that emphasized last word, Dori reached behind into his pack and procured a little silver charm, one carved richly with dwarven runes and even centered with a little green stone. Fiddling at his back more, the dwarf also found a section of string and hastily tied it to your cane’s handle. “Now what do you call that?” He asked, waving a hand over the charm. “I have a bit of luster dust if you’d like something more.” Needless to say, it was the most fun night you’d had in those endless weeks of trekking.

Nori

Raising one eyebrow at Nori, you stared in skepticism as he held a hand out and repeated his request. “Your cane, please?” “How do I know you won’t just run off with it?” You shot back. “You’re sitting,” he pointed out, “Not like you really need it. Besides, do you really think I’d be so incorrigible a scoundrel as to make off with someone’s means of walkin’ for no reason?” Nori’s gaze slid upward from your carven wood cane back to your eyes, which remained as they were. “Second thought, don’t answer that. Just trust me, hm? You won’t regret it. Dwarf’s honor.” At the invoking of honor, an action infrequently taken by Nori, your brow lowered to form a more neutral, though inquisitive, expression as you handed your cane over. You were quickly distracted by conversation from Dori as you sat, folding your hands in both complacency and content and shivering a bit in the snow. The conversation continued for some time until an ‘A-ha!’ rang out and Nori came running back up, triumphantly hoisting your cane, to which he had crudely affixed one of his many knives. “And what,” you asked, “Is this?” Nodding beyond your night’s campground, Nori indicated the ice extending across the ground. “Aid in your trek! Can’t have you slipping, can you? Not that I won’t catch ya.” He winked.

Ori

“Your sticks!” Ori gasped, brown eyes wide with horror. “Where are they?” “My crutches?” Eyebrows sliding upward in amusement, you made your way toward the young dwarf, who was stitching a sock a handful of feet away. At that, he simply nodded, repairs completely abandoned upon his lap. "Oh, I simply had no need for them today," you answered with a small shrug of your shoulders. At that, Ori gave a curious little frown. “So you can walk some days?” “It isn’t only a matter of walking,” you chuckled, “Moreso that some days my pain and balance are worse.” “Like when Gloin’s leg bothers him?” Ori asked, face turning to childlike eagerness. “Or how Bifur doesn't talk some days?" A little smile spread across your face and your chest expanded with warmth. "Yes," you agreed, "Just like that, Ori."

Fili

Mind drifting off in tandem with the pulsing ache of your limbs, you gazed at the flicker of the fire, faintly drifting smoke curling into the air from pipes and the kindling itself. Your hands idly wrung your cane until the sensation of warmth brushing your leg drew you from your empty focus spiral. Shifting your gaze, you were met with the sight of Fili sitting at your side. "Think I might need one of those after today." Following his gaze, your eyes fell back down to your hands, more specifically the cane held there. "Your own mobility aid or the other?" At your last words, Fili quirked up a golden brow. "The other?" He repeated. Smirking proudly, you slid the end off your cane, revealing a sword hidden within. “The other,” you repeated once more with emphasis, “Guess you weren’t paying attention to how I heaved so many goblins off that bridge.” “You’re right,” Fili agreed, blue eyes lighting up in the fireglow, “I do want that. How long has that been there?” “Whole time.” “Just waiting for the right moment, eh?” “Of course,” you bantered back, “Gotta make a show.”

Kili

“Can I try?” Kili smiled up at you as you blinked at him, face blank with thought. Reaching down, he pantomimed using your crutches for a step, swinging his arms back and forth. "You want to give my crutches a go?" Your eyebrows shot up, a smile building upon your face. Memories flooded your mind, deep knowledge of the struggle that nearly always comes with those first steps and even far beyond. Loosening the grip you had upon your aids, you handed them off to Kili as you took Oin's hand and allowed him to help walk and lower you onto a makeshift camp seat. Hooking his arms in, Kili stood up, adjusting his posture after several moments. He took a step, then swung them. "Wait, that doesn't make sense. Hold on." You giggled from your seat at Oin's side as Kili raised one leg, thought, brought the crutches down again and wobbled such that you were tempted to extend hands that could catch him.

Bilbo

“I was scared first, but trust me: you’ll be grateful in the end once you get on these fellows,” Bilbo told you, looking down at you as he patted the pony he sat upon. “It isn’t that,” you answered, gaze dropping from the hobbit’s, “It’s…well, it is a bit embarrassing, to be honest.” The dwarves had been sweet enough to fortify the feet of your forearm crutches, though they still could not understand why you didn’t ride. The answer, quite frankly, rose a bit of a flush to your cheeks. Bilbo must have caught this. “You shouldn’t be ashamed. Nothing of it is your fault. You can tell me. Probably better me than all those dwarves, right? I won’t tell a soul.” His voice dropped to a playful whisper for that last sentence, which though it didn’t help the heat radiating beneath your skin did open your heart and your mouth. “If I were to get lightheaded or a shock of pain riding a pony I could fall off. And...And I would need someone to hold onto me.” “Ah,” the hobbit replied, this time taking his turn to shyly gaze away, “Well, if you ever change your mind, I would be more than happy to hold you.”

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[flowersfortheghost]

Ghostflower week day 1

tags: @ghostflowerweek2023

summary: What if the conversation during the clocktower scene went a little differently?

—

Gwen and Miles were both sitting at the Williamsburg Bank Building, talking after they hadn't seen each other for months. Miles then sat next to Gwen before she could start talking. “I mean, how many people can you talk to about this stuff?” She asked. “You don’t even know.” Miles responded. Gwen sighed, which Miles noticed. “What?” He asked.

“You’re the only friend I’ve ever really made after Peter died.” Gwen confessed. She thought she would never make new friends, that she could never move on, but she did. And she wasn’t exactly regretting it.

“Other than Hobie, right?”

“That’s different.” It was very different, to her. Hobie felt like an older brother to Gwen, Miles felt like something more than a friend. Someone she wanted to see more than a friend. Someone who she...was in love with.

“Yeah? How’s that?”

“I don’t know..” But Gwen did know, she just didn't want to admit it or say it.

“You and me, it’s…” Why couldn’t she just say it? Why couldn’t she just pour out all her feelings right now. She knew ways to word it, she just couldn’t do it.

“We’re…the same.”

Gwen looked at Miles with a somewhat confused expression. Did he see her the same way she does, or was this one-sided? “In the important ways.” Miles added, which caused Gwen to chuckle.

“In every other universe, Gwen Stacy falls for Spider-Man.”

Miles’ eyes widened a bit. He didn’t expect Gwen to say something like that. He was wondering if she had the same feelings as he had. So he moved his hand closer to hers, which Gwen noticed.

“And in every other universe…”

Gwen didn’t want to finish her sentence. She knew the faith of Gwen Stacy. She falls in love, then falls to her death. She wants it to end well, for once. She wants to love someone without dying. 

“Miles, can I tell you something?” Gwen had to do it, this was the only chance she could tell Miles this. “Yeah sure. Go ahead.”

“Miles I…” Gwen felt a nervous feeling blossom inside her. She couldn’t keep these feelings and felt like Miles needed to know this. “Maybe in this universe, it can end well…” She thought to herself.

“When Gwen Stacy falls for Spider-Man, she falls to her death. That’s how the story is supposed to go…” Gwen stopped talking for a second, deciding whether or not she should do this. “But maybe in this universe, things are different.” She said, getting closer to Miles.

“Gwen, what are you-”

Before Miles had finished his sentence, Gwen had softly kissed him. Miles obviously didn’t see that one coming, but he couldn’t deny the fact that he didn’t mind it. In fact, he kissed her back, which was something Gwen didn’t expect.

Gwen eventually pulled away. “So Gwen, what does this mean?” Miles asked, as if the answer wasn’t obvious yet. “I… I love you, Miles.” Gwen said softly, feeling a slight blush appear on her face.

“I love you too, Gwen.”

[twslug]

time to pretend

[skitskatdacat63]

Tradition vs Modernity vs Comradery

+ context & lore:

In the first drawing, Fernando is wearing a capote de paseo, which is what bullfighters wear before the match begins, as seen below:

In the second, Seb is shouting the very familiar "Olé" which is shouted by the crowd to praise the matador. He's a little brat, so of course he's yelling it for himself, but he did get many 💐

The third(which was a random sketch I had that I didn't think I'd finish tonight, so ignore if its messy) has very important context to me. Before going to the final act and killing the bull, matadors dedicate their montera(hat)(and symbolically: their kill) to a a specific person in the audience(or just the public as a whole.) Seb and Fernando are finally in the same color! Seb is bowing!!! And Fernando is honoring Seb!!!! Also ignore that I drew Seb's post-retirement hair. Though, maybe this drawing is supposed to represent Fernando making a dedication to his now-gone rival 😔(Seb: stop telling people im dead!)

Now, some more lore :D

So I talked about this in my last matador post but I'll expand more. I think it's very funny to characterize Fernando in this au as this fun-hating traditionalist. Because you have to understand; he's only this way when it comes to Seb. Because you absolutely KNOW he was doing silly, unserious shit back when he was younger. But absolutely god forbid Seb do anything silly.

It's very ironic because there literally is a part in the third act of a bull fight where it's basically encouraged to be a bit silly. This is a tad morbid, but basically right before they deliver the killing blow, some show their mastery over the bull by doing some superfluous action(ex. kissing the bull, kneeling in front of the bull.) There's some guy who literally would lean on the bull and mime taking a call. But anyways, Seb would def do this. I've not been able to draw it exactly how I want, but he would bend down and do his little bull horn symbol and mime charging at the bull. (Fernando, trying to make up reasons to hate Seb: oh my god, look at this blatant disrespect, look how he is disrespecting the bull, I cannot believe how rude this boy is!)

Also there's something to be said about how the matador shows mastery over the bull by kissing it or bowing to it...and Seb is technically the bull in this au and Fernando is the matador. There's just this unfortunate level of weird power inbalance that still lingers even though their rivalry is over and can't be affected anymore. There was no succinct answer about who truly was better because Seb was forced out of it. So there's always gonna be this level of "is he just pitying me? Is he just mocking me? Is he just patronizing me?" on Seb's part whenever Fernando praises him or makes dedications to him. And Fernando's always going to be haunted by the fact that there's no answer to who is truly better because he'll never know if Seb had reached his full potential or not. Anyways, they also have nasty sex while wearing their costumes and do weird bull/matador roleplay :)

[thefrogdalorian]

From Now Until The End

Summary: After being away from you as part of his job with the New Republic, your partner Din surprises you with a trip to the Boonta Eve Classic on Tatooine to make up for it. But instead of the fun-filled day he had planned, you are overwhelmed by the many sights, sounds and noises. It leads you to finally share a part of yourself with Din that you had been hiding from him until now.

Rating: General Content Warnings: Descriptions of panic attacks/sensory overload. Word Count: 5446 Link to read on AO3 // Din x ND reader series

Authors note: After my post a few days ago about finding comfort in Din as a neurodivergent person provoked so many thoughful discussions, this fic just sort of landed in my lap today and I was not one to fight the muse. I really hope you enjoy it!

For the first part of your life, you had believed you were somehow cursed, such was the way bad luck was drawn to you like a womp rat to the sands of Tatooine. How did everything seem so simple for others when nothing ever seemed to go right for you? Had you missed out on some kind of crucial meeting that taught everyone else to be a functional human? Or were you just fundamentally broken? Getting a diagnosis of autism thanks to a knowledgeable healer that you had encountered quite by accident, had finally answered some questions for you and helped you to navigate the galaxy in a different way, allowing yourself far more grace and compassion than you ever had before. But it didn’t make all of your problems instantly vanish.

But your fortunes had changed forever on that fateful day when you had first encountered a man hunting imperial remnants for the New Republic in the course of your work in a Cantina, a job you loathed. He had strode in, seeking information that you had been happy to give him.

You were stunned when he had tried to give you some credits for it, it was just the right thing to do. You had always had a strong sense of justice. Sure, your boss probably wouldn’t be too happy if he had caught you fraternising with customers and conspiring to capture Imps with a Mandalorian, rather than doing your job. Which was, to pour flagons of spotchka and keep the peace. But the man in the shiny Beskar had been the first person in a while who had actually treated you like a fellow human being, rather than something to be leered at and ogled while you brought them more alcohol. You felt instantly at ease with him, the conversation flowing from your lips so naturally that you forgot he was a stranger. And you were usually so wary of strangers. To be as open as you were with him so quickly, it was clear that there was something special about this man.

People were usually wary of Mandalorians, they were still such a rarity in the galaxy after The Great Purge. But you realised after just a few minutes of talking to him, that there was something incredibly comforting and warm about the man beneath the armour. When he had left, you had felt so devastated it was almost pathetic. Of course he had left, he was only here in this backwater hellhole for a job, after all. It had been difficult to complete your shift without dissolving into sobs, you felt irritated and on the verge of a meltdown but if you were to try to explain it to anyone, even if you could find the words, it would not make any sense. A stranger had made you feel happier than you had in a long time? How was that normal?

Waking yourself up for your shift the following morning and dragging yourself into to face the most wretched hive of scum and villainy in the galaxy at your place of work had been one of the toughest things you had ever had to do. You loathed that cantina, that was situated right next to the starport on the formerly-Imperial planet in the mid rim. People were fleeting, passing through. It was seedy. There were secrets to be traded in and you knew if you weren't careful, you could pay with your life. But you had to keep going. The boss had taken you in and supported you when you were down on your luck. There was no alternative. 

But the moment when you had caught the familiar glint of that shiny Beskar out of the corner of your eye as you were cleaning glasses had changed everything. At that moment, when Din had strode back into the cantina with that confident gait that you loved so much, it was as though all the misfortune you had endured had meant something. All the suffering you had experienced in your life was all being made up for now, when Din had returned and saved you from a monotonous life on that dead-end planet, working in a job you loathed with a hellish boss. You had left that day and never looked back.

Crossing paths with Din Djarin had been, without a doubt, the most fortunate thing that had ever happened to you. Although you had still been wary of his intimidating presence at first, despite how quickly you felt at ease with him; you had come to learn that despite his hulking, armoured form, there was a heart of gold beneath that cold, hard Beskar. As your relationship had gotten more serious and the two of you had grown closer and closer, your guilt at hiding such a big part of yourself had increased. There was not an easy way to tell people that you were autistic, you had discovered that over and over since you had received your diagnosis. There were often painful consequences once others discovered that there was a hint of difference. You knew it was foolish to think that with Din, he had proven to you time and time again to be a patient, understanding man. Not least because of how he treated you, but also because of how sweet he was to his son, Grogu.

Surprisingly, perhaps because he had spent the first part of your relationship hiding his face from you behind his helmet, you had not felt the need to mask as much as you usually did. There was no pressure to make eye contact and Din was so quiet that small talk was not an issue. He was direct, a man of few words. When he did speak, it was straight to the point. Something that you found immensely comforting from the moment you met him.

You had not wanted to burden him with the secret you were hiding from him though. At first, you had not thought it was important to bring up. People usually ran away or treated you differently. In the past, your honesty had been met with rejection or unkindness. Your heart ached to think of the same thing happening with Din.

But unfortunately, hiding that part of you was no longer an option. As you sat there, cowering in a cave that you had found away from all the noise that was characteristic of the Boonta Eve Classic, you wondered how on earth you were going to explain it to Din. This wasn’t how you wanted it to happen. You wanted to drop it in conversation, nonchalantly, as though it wasn’t a big deal – because why should it be? Instead, your hand had rather been forced by how upset the accumulation of events that happened to you throughout the day had left you.

Din had taken a lot of jobs recently and the two of you had spent a considerable amount of time apart. But you didn’t spend your days alone, pining for him; he had secured a job for you with his friend, High Magistrate Greef Karga on the planet where you shared a cabin with him and Grogu. It was a beautiful tract of land, just past the lava flats. You felt extremely grateful that Din had wanted to invite you into the quiet life he had built for himself Grogu. So while Din was away, you had found yourself working in the Nevarrian archives and making sure everything was up to date and in order. For a detail-orientated person who loved order, it was a perfect job for you. Even better, it came with minimal human interaction, a parsec away both literally and metaphorically from that hateful Cantina. What’s more, you had an incredibly good-natured – not to mention handsome – man for a partner and his charming son, whom you had quickly come to adore. With those big brown eyes and ears that could melt your heart when they drooped downwards, there was no way you could do anything other than love Grogu. 

But with so much time apart recently, Din had wanted to do something special to make it up to you. He had arranged to take you to the Boonta Eve Classic, an infamous event the entire galaxy over which took place annually on Tatooine. He had a friend who could babysit Grogu and it would be the perfect opportunity for the two of you to spend some quality time together. Din had told you about the time he had visited Tatooine on the day of it a couple of cycles ago but was unable to stay due to commitments elsewhere. You could see how excited he was to finally experience Boonta Eve and you would be lying if you weren’t excited too. It was definitely something on your bucket list, that you had wanted to experience for a while. You would be lying if you said you weren’t a little daunted by it though, all the noise and people were sure to push you out of your comfort zone.

The heat of Tatooine was the first thing that stood out to you. Nevarro could be hot, but this was something else. It was repressive; you sweated just standing still. You wished you had dressed in something lighter, some cotton perhaps, rather than the shirt that seemed to cling to you. The bright, harsh light of the twin suns was also making your head buzz. You had felt a little shaky as you and Din climbed off the ship that had brought you here and headed for the hangar to meet Din’s friend who would take care of Grogu.

Din had introduced you to a few of his acquaintances since the two of you had gotten together and usually, you could understand why they were friends. You were about to meet the exception to that rule, though, in the form of a curly-haired, eccentric mechanic called Peli Motto. You had barely had a chance to catch your breath on this planet, which seemed determined to boil you to death, when you entered the hangar and met perhaps the most extroverted woman you had ever met in your entire life.

When you walked in, she had been conversing with some Jawas, her brown curly hair bobbing up and down furiously. Your understanding of the language was minimal at best, but it seemed to be a pretty heated discussion. Din shifted awkwardly next to you, Grogu in his arms. He cleared his throat and at once she spun around.

“Mando!” Peli exclaimed, throwing her arms up in delight. “Good to see ya, always a pleasure!”

“You too.” Din nodded in response.

“No ship today?” Peli asked, with a shrug. “Shame, I would’ve given her the ol’ once over for ya. For a good price, of course.”

“No, there wasn’t enough room. I’m here with my partner, you see.” Din said, nodding towards you, his hand coming to rest on the small of your back to show that you were, in fact, an item.

“Well look at you! Isn’t Mando punching above his weight? You’re stunning.” Peli said with a grin, her hands coming to rest on her toolbelt. Although, judging by the amount of droids she employed, it didn’t look as though she did much work herself. “You know, if things don’t work out between the two of you, you give me a call. Alright?”

“Uh… alright?” You laughed apprehensively, taken aback by how brazen she was.

Din sensed your unease and swiftly moved the conversation on, removing his hand from your back and taking a few steps towards Peli, handing Grogu to her. Grogu cooed at being passed to the woman, who greeted him enthusiastically. You just stood there awkwardly, your arms felt heavy and you suddenly felt incredibly out of place, even though you were with your boys. You just wanted to leave this place behind and finally spend some quality time with Din. That was the entire point of your trip, after all.

After Din had reminded Grogu several times to mind his manners and not eat all of Peli’s food, the two of you left the hangar behind and walked hand-in-hand as you made your way towards the area where the Boonta Eve Classic was taking place. Din had splurged on grandstand seats for the two of you and, although you had expected it would be busy, as you got closer and closer, you were blown away by the capacity of the main stand. It seemed as though it could hold hundreds of thousands of people. Din must have sensed your unease since the whole interaction with Peli, as he checked in with you.

“You okay?” Din asked, looking at you. But all that greeted you was the harsh blackness of his visor, rather than the warm, comforting brown eyes that you loved so much. “Sorry about Peli, I should’ve given you a heads-up. She’s completely harmless, but I know she can be a lot, sometimes.”

“Oh, yeah. It’s okay.” You laughed nervously. “It’s just a lot busier than I was expecting.”

“It’s Boonta Eve!” Din shook his head as though it should be obvious, which only made you feel worse, somehow. “Biggest event of the year. There are a lot of people, though.”

“Yeah.” You said quietly.

“Let’s get some food. It was a long journey, you must be hungry.” Din said as he pointed towards a stall with a considerable throng of people surrounding it. “Look, I think those stalls sell Bantha cheese hoagies, We can get a refreshing glass of blue milk too.”

“Okay.” You agreed. It was true, you would probably feel better with some proper food in your system. It had taken the better part of a day to travel here from Nevarro, on one of the ships that had been specially chartered to take people to the event. 

But the food had not helped. Nor had been crammed onto the bleachers alongside thousands of others without the comfort of Din’s face to ground you. Every time you looked at him, you were met with the unmoving gaze of his helmet, rather than his warm brown eyes that you loved so much. You had tried to maintain your composure throughout the afternoon through the many races and into the evenings, Din seemed to be enjoying himself and you didn’t want to ruin that from him. Much less could you even begin to get into why you were so upset, why you were struggling so much. He probably wouldn’t understand, he’d think you were strange. So you resolved to keep it together. It would all be over soon. You shut your eyes and took deep breaths as the final race began, knowing that you just had to make it through a few more minutes before you and Din would head back to the lodgings he had booked for the night – at great personal expense, if you had to guess.

But when the pod races had ended, after much cheering and ear-splittingly loud commentary coming from the speakers, there had been no reprieve. Instead, a fireworks display had started up, replacing one loud noise with another. If there was one thing you abhorred, it was sudden loud noises. They made you physically jump, completely terrifying you. It had been the thing that had tipped you over the edge into meltdown territory. You were trying your best to keep it together, to at least make it somewhere more private before you came apart. So you abruptly stood up, clapping your hands to your ears.

“Din… I need to leave.” You managed to squeak out before you were pushing your way along the row of bleachers and hurtling down the steps to somewhere quieter.

As you reached the bottom of the grandstand, your mind raced. Where could you go? You were somewhere completely alien to you. Plus, when you had made your way here, everything had been light. But now the suns had set and darkness had crept in. You were grateful that the harsh sun was no longer beating down furiously on you, but the lack of light disorientated you. Your vision started to blur as the tears began to fall, you were trembling, twisting your head furiously in desperate search of somewhere quiet you could get some privacy as you broke into pieces.

Mercifully, behind one of the vendors that were beginning to pack their wares up for the night, was an entrance to a cave. It was the perfect place for you to get some quiet away from the fireworks, which were still exploding all around you. Without a second thought – for your safety, for Din’s whereabouts – you darted inside the cave and found some peace. You sat there, arms around your knees, rocking back and forth as the meltdown that you had felt building pace for hours was finally crashing down with all its might on top of you. 

The sound of footsteps outside the cave did nothing to reach you, such was the distress you found yourself in. It could have been anyone with nefarious intentions, you weren’t in a position to care. You weren’t in a position to take anything in, really. But, mercifully, it was the familiar sight of the Mandalorian who owned your heart. Din had found you; of course, he had, he was not once known as the best bounty hunter in the parsec for no reason. 

“Cyar’ika? What’s wrong?” Din asked, voice full of concern as he closed the distance towards you.

He took a seat on the cold, firm floor of the cave in front of where you were currently sitting in a state of distress, unreachable as you felt the world was ending. 

“What happened?” Din asked, again. But his voice sounded slightly different this time and, as you opened your eyes and looked at him through your tears, you realised why. You could finally see the face of the man that you loved so much, the face you had been aching to see all day.

“Di- Din?” You sniffled. You respected his devotion to the Creed entirely – although he had chosen to walk a different path to the Way he was raised, he still only removed his helmet around you and Grogu.

“I’m here, cyar’ika. I’m not leaving you.” Din said, reaching out to pat your knee awkwardly, clearly scared that he was going to upset you more.

You took some deep breaths, attempting to compose yourself so you could speak to him and let him know the truth, about what had caused your sudden loss of composure and subsequent meltdown. To an outsider, you knew they looked inexplicable but inside your head, they made complete sense.

“Was it something I did? Was it the fireworks?” Din questioned, although the cave was almost entirely in darkness, you could still see the concern on his face. “I’m so sorry, I thought you knew they were part of Boonta Eve.”

“I didn’t…” You struggled for breath, “...know.”

“I’m so sorry. Were they too loud? Din asked you, you were grateful that he was keeping it to questions that could be answered with a yes or no. They were far easier to reply to in your current state.

“Yes.” You nodded your head furiously.

“Okay, okay. I think I get it.” Din said, continuing to stroke your knee gingerly. The warm pressure and presence of his hand was a welcome addition. It soothed you, rather than repulsed you as could sometimes happen when you were in a state of meltdown. “Take your time, get your breath back.”

You weren’t sure for how many minutes you sat there, trying to compose yourself so you could speak to Din and let him in. Let him know what had caused your distress. You knew what it was, but this could change everything. For a second, that made you cry harder. But then you comforted yourself with all the times Din had been understanding before, when you had returned from work upset or when he had been kind and patient to Grogu, the little boy with an immense gift.

Eventually, though, you were composed enough to initiate a conversation with the man who was so concerned about you, who you knew wanted to help you and understand what had upset you so much. You couldn’t bear the thought of him believing that it was his fault, if nothing else, you had to let him know that there was nothing he could have done to prevent this.

“Sorry for running off.” You said sincerely, struggling to meet Din’s gaze as you sat there in the cave together. “It wasn’t your fault, Din.”

“Do you want to talk about what caused it, now?” Din asked. “No pressure to but if I know, perhaps I can help you in future.”

You could have launched into a detailed history of your life, about how you knew from an early age that you were different. That, despite your human parents, you had repeatedly questioned whether you were, in fact, an alien who had been adopted, somehow. How things had not made sense until the day that healer looked into your eyes and told you those words: You are autistic. The way, even after that, things still did not make sense. How you thought that logically, having a diagnosis should make things easier to understand, that often you felt as though you understood yourself even less now.

But you didn’t. You could tell Din those things another time. For now, there was only one thing that Din needed to know. You closed your eyes and uttered the three words that could change everything for you, that could rip this man and the life you were building together away from you:

“Din… I’m autistic.” You said, shutting your eyes as though you were anticipating some kind of violence in response to the admission of your diagnosis.

When you opened them, though, there was no pain to be rained down on you. Only love and acceptance. Before you, the man you had grown so close to sat there cross-legged, his warm brown eyes widened in shock, as he nodded slowly in understanding. 

“Okay,” Din said with another firm nod, making sure that he was looking directly at you. “What can I do to help you?”

“You’ve been so understanding and accepting of me already. I just sometimes struggle to put into words how I’m feeling. It’s as though I don’t know how bad I’m feeling until I’m reduced to a blubbering mess, like just know.” You admitted. “That’s why, eventually, things were too much and I just ran off.”

“What caused it today?” Din asked, curiously. You saw no trace of judgement or a desire to pry in those eyes.

“Well, I tend to struggle with social situations, meeting new people and new environments. And also, sensory overload, when things are too bright and noisy… it makes me panic.” You admitted, fiddling nervously with the hem of the shirt that you had dressed in that had failed miserably at keeping you cool. “It was just… everything today. And I didn’t know how to say it or make you aware because you didn’t know and you might think I was ungrateful. I know how much you were looking forward to this, how much you spent on giving me the best experience. I wanted to have a good time but I just… I couldn’t…”

“Oh, cyar’ika. I’m so sorry to hear that you’ve been struggling. I can see how a busy, noisy pod race with all the sounds and people would be awful for you. Plus the fireworks display you had no idea about… Boonta Eve was probably not the best place to bring you. Nor was it wise to introduce you to someone new, especially someone as loud as Peli.” Din said, shaking his head although he was upset for himself. “And all that, somewhere unfamiliar… on a planet you’ve never been to. It’s amazing, really, that you coped as well as you did, for so long today. I'm proud of you.”

“Thank you, Din. But please don’t feel bad, you didn’t know. I should’ve told you sooner… but I was scared to.” You admitted sheepishly.

“Scared?” Din questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“I just….” You took a deep breath. It was difficult for you to talk about the unfortunate reactions you had been exposed to in the past. “There have been plenty of people who have not accepted my diagnosis, told me I didn’t look autistic or that it can’t be that bad. People just… they don’t understand. I was scared you’d think I was weird, that you wouldn’t love me anymore.”

“Oh, cyar’ika.” Din said, shuffling to sit next to you so he could wrap his arm around your shoulder and bring you into him protectively. “I would never think that of you. I can’t imagine how much it would hurt to feel so misunderstood and struggle with so many things that others find easy. I must admit, I don’t always notice lights and noises like others do, behind my helmet. It sort of creates a barrier between me and the rest of the galaxy. If I had to face the world in the same way you do, bearing my face… I would probably struggle too.”

“You would?” You questioned in amazement. Usually, you doubted how much people could understand, but with Din, there was utter sincerity there. He was noble and always true to his word, sometimes to the point of putting himself in precarious positions, you did not doubt him for a second.

“I would,” Din nodded. “Plus, as for the weird thing. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but when you met me I told you I was part of a Creed that meant I could never show you my face. Not only that, but I had adopted a son who was older than me. So, you know, I’m also surprised you didn’t leave me. I’m not exactly the most normal person in the galaxy.”

You laughed at that, so hard that your sides were hurting. Din soon joined you and the cave was soon filled with something other than tortured sobs. It was a welcome change for your body to be hurting rather than something other than pain and terror, for there to be warmth spreading once again in your chest.

“Good point,” You admitted. “You are pretty weird.”

“But seriously, if you ever feel yourself struggling like that again, please tell me,” Din said, suddenly looking at you seriously. “You know, if there’s anything I can do, I’ll help you. Now that I know, I can look for things that might cause you distress. I promise I’ll never put you through anything you don’t want to do. You said that today must have cost a lot and that’s true, but you know credits don’t matter as much as you do. Your happiness is my only priority… along with Grogu’s, of course.”

“Thank you, Din.” You whispered, voice thick with emotion. “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you.”

The truth was, you would never be able to thank him with words. To have someone so understanding of you… it was a debt you felt that you would never be able to repay. But Din would never ask you to repay anything.

“Just continue being yourself, cyar’ika.” Din said, squeezing you to him. “I fell in love with you because you are who you are, this changes nothing. In fact, it makes me admire you and love you even more.”

"Really?" You asked.

"Really. From now until the end... I'm by your side." Din said, solemnly.

You sat there stunned, letting his words wash over you. They were a balm to your soul, the exact thing you needed to hear. You wondered how you had ever doubted Din's faithfulness and honourability. It seemed stupid now, that you could ever believe this man would want nothing but your absolute happiness. 

"Ready to head to the lodgings?" Din asked after a few more minutes had passed.

"Let's go." You nodded, accepting Din's hand as he pulled you to your feet.

As you made your way to the lodgings Din had arranged for you that night, your hand in his, you felt as though an incredible weight had been lifted from your shoulders. He had finally learnt the truth about you and the reasons why you struggled sometimes, there was nothing to hide anymore. And he had not responded with judgement or dismissiveness, nor had he doubted how much you had struggled. He had listened, allowed you to explain and vowed to help you through it in the future.

Din's helmet was back on now, but you felt a new respect for him. To know that he found it comforting, that he liked wearing it... most people would think it was an intense personal sacrifice to wear something so restrictive, but now that you knew that Din actually found solace in his helmet, with its tinted visor and the way it made noises quieter… perhaps you would think about the steps it took to become Mandalorian.

But all those questions could be answered later. For now, it was just you and the man you loved most in the galaxy, a man who knew everything about you and still loved you as much as he had before.

You weren’t sure what you had ever done to deserve such a kind, good man... but you weren’t about to question the way the galaxy had brought you together. You were just happy that your paths had crossed at all.

*

A few days later, back at your cabin on Nevarro, you awoke in the middle of the night to find that the side of the cot normally occupied by your favourite Mandalorian was empty. You momentarily panicked when you sat up with a start and saw that Din was nowhere to be found. You placed your hand on the sheets on his side of the cot and discovered they were still faintly warm. He couldn’t have gone far. Perhaps he was with Grogu, the little boy might have had a nightmare. But as you made your way into the hallway of the small cabin, you noticed a faint light coming from the main living area of the cabin.

As you crept down the corridor, not wanting to disturb Din, you noticed that he was sitting at the small desk in the living area. Illuminated by the warm glow of the lamp, you could see his curly dark hair resting on the desk. You worried for a moment until you heard the comfortingly familiar sound of his shallow, even breaths which indicated that he had fallen asleep. As you looked even closer, you noticed that there was something open on the desk. Your curiosity got the better of you as you wandered over there to see what he had been up to before he had fallen asleep with a lamp still on. A lamp that you turned off and shut the book that was sitting just above his hand, his hand resting next to it. And then you noticed the golden writing on the red cover and your heart skipped a beat.

It read, in Aurebesh: How to Support Your Autistic Loved One

You felt a lump in your throat and tears pool in your eyes. Before you could react further, Din stirred. The sound of the book shutting with a thud had caused him to stir, his brown eyes fluttered open and he turned to look up at you.

“Hi, sleepyhead.” You said, teasingly.

“Hi,” Din said, wiping his eyes. 

“Doing some late-night reading?” You asked with a smirk, nodding at the book.

“Oh…” Din said, turning his head to look down at the book too. “I got it from the archives here. I just wanted to know how to help you.”

“You’re so sweet, Din.” You smiled. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, cyar’ika.” Din smiled at you, his eyes looking at you adoringly. “Let’s head back to our cot.”

As you fell asleep, your cheek resting on the warm, firm expanse of Din’s broad chest, you felt certain that you were the luckiest person in the entire galaxy. There was no one that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. You had not travelled far, but you knew that you could travel the galaxy many times and never meet another person as understanding as Din Djarin.

Thankfully, you didn’t have to… because he was all yours. From now until the end.

[front-facing-pokemon]

[paimonial-rage]

My favorite works in no particular order:

Tipsy Tales (Anemo Boys)

Symbiosis (Ayato)

What Destiny Has Brought (Fischl)

Hello How Are You (Gorou)

Follow the Wind II (Kazuha)

Of the Same Coin (Mika)

Songs of the Wind (Venti)

Nothing Lasts Forever (Yae Miko)

Sharing a Drink They Call Loneliness (Zhongli)

Of Hopes and Prayers (Zhongli)

[mbat]

i really wanted to try and write like, a thing explaining how i think steven universe future is one of the best portrayals (and my personal favorite) of mental illness in media, and how i think people misinterpreted it (me included at first, cause my experience over time has given me new perspectives) but i. AAA i literally dont even know if its necessary cause i dont know if people still think it was bad or a bad way to write steven (it wasnt!!) or like any of that, mostly cause. holy shit its just so obvious to me?

like i watch that show and i relate to him so much that i just understand it all and its so obvious to me and i dont know if other people find it. not obvious. like everything is right there in the text laid out i think

the main thing that i saw get misinterpreted when it aired was the second to last episode where steven turns into a fucking kaiju and everyone, again me included, thought that it felt rushed, but everytime i rewatch it i think... no it wasnt, actually. because we see it expecting a big fight or thinking it needs a whole lot to fix, but it doesnt. its not a fight, its someone having a mental breakdown and thinking theyre purely unlovable and evil, but being made to see that they are still lovable and arent evil even after all the bad theyve done, theyre loved unconditionally, and that other stuff mostly really doesnt matter (and hey, it can be fixed/dealt with later, its fine!)

its just my favorite show ever, specifically future! and i really wish other people would see what i see, but do i even need to try..? i didnt really write it very well anyway, but drafts exist for a reason. idk ive just been thinking about it a lot

TL;DR: i adore steven universe future and im wondering if anyone thinks its even necessary for it to be analyzed for people to maybe better understand it/do you think that there are enough people misunderstanding it that it needs a perspective to maybe help be more understood

[humanmorph]

Lye „Lyke“ Lychen as a sacrifical altar (to Aterika’Kaal) (but he's also kind of the sacrifice)

my @secret-samol gift for @bronanlynch! for the Aterika’Kaal/Lyke prompt of „what if things had gone differently and Aterika'Kaal was still with Lyke“.

notes on this under the readmore!

AU

In this scenario Lyke would succeed in getting the heart of the Motherbeast in Episode 47 and while Alaway would notice & probably still call out to Aterika’Kaal the way he presumably did in canon, Lyke would be there and get to make a compelling case to Aterika’Kaal the likes of „If you stay with me I am going to feed you. I’ve taken care of you until now, I’ll keep doing that“ (argument supported by the fact he’s currently holding the heart of an incredibly powerful dead god). Aterika’kaal agrees and they barely escape through the Sanctum of the Stone Chorus portal. I think it's fun if Lyke then stays there after the hour described in the move is over, maybe knowing he can't convince Pickman & the others that what he's done is actually good, and fine, there's not even anything to worry about he has this totally handled, But yeah he then sets out from whereever in Sangfielle Aterika'Kaals domain is (Austin did say it was an actual place somewhere), and the rest of the Blackwick Group is left to wonder what the hell happened since Lyke just vanished! Alaway has possibly fucked off too after losing the heart. And them getting fired, the Carnival of Moted Light etc. would still happen (and I guess Chine would succeed at what they were doing since Lyke isn’t there?) and who knows if they’d take any action in finding Lyke after that! All that aside though, Lyke basically offers himself to feed on (through blood and/or energy) and to sustain that he keeps consuming(not literally eating) powerful objects/artifacts/resources and possibly eventually living things (I’d imagine he'd still take work as a „please deal with this weird shit for us“ person and when he has to kill a cursed beast or whatnot... might aswell feed Aterika'Kaal?) (What also plays into that decision, and is part of Lyke justifying this to himself, is that without him, Aterika’Kaal would become too powerful. So he aims to function as kind of a conduit & control the power intake so to speak. I think this probably doesn’t work for very long.) I think this eventually goes bad for him because it’s super taxing on his body and the whole deal kind of flips with Aterika’Kaal feeding/keeping HIM alive. He starts finding bodies in the domain again (alternatively, Aterika'Kaal gets better at hiding them because it knows Lyke doesn't particulary like it when it does that). Lyke probably gets stronger due to this power/magic wise, but also way more fragile (he's constantly anemic!). („I love you. I want us both to eat well.“ - Christopher Citro) („When I write of hunger I am really writing about love and the hunger for it, and warmth and the love of it and it is all one.“ M.K. Fisher) Notes: I put some resources Lyke’s canonically had in-game + some extra stuff in this picture (the arrow is a reference to Marn’s epilogue, the bugs are bugs (with possibly sinister connotations. If you want them to have those, it’s optional) and the fur is from the Ravening Beast). Another detail I came up with I might aswell tell you because otherwise noone might ever know: the ring with the blue stone is a gift from Es. Sketch Notes: 1. Lyke turning his head to kiss a rose / exposing his neck was one of my very first ideas/sketches I made while working on this, and I liked it too much to not include it. 2. This is supposed to be Aterika'Kaal giving Lyke a blood transfusion but it rather looks like it's feeding on him instead...! I like how the relaxed pose turned out. 3. I wanted to draw something smaller in a simpler style to fill the big canvas I was drawing these on (even though now I put them in separate files anyways...). The day I drew this I saw a tweet about a medieval monks sketchbook, so I was still thinking about that. I didn't even plan to color it originally but I ended up getting invested, haha

Inspired mainly by these 3 quotes: „KEITH: I’m a walking- I am a shrine to Aterika’Kaal.“ (Sangfielle 12: The Secret Ledger of Roseroot Hall Pt. 4) „KEITH: There's a version of dealing with Aterika'Kaal that ends with Lyke being satisfied that he rehabilitated a god or at least it looks […] like what he thinks Aterika'Kaal would have been before the YVEs showed up. That's probably his main retirement path, but it also might kill him instead.” (Sangfielle 47: Wax, Iron, and Ichor Pt. 4) „AUSTIN: As you’re fading, the last thing that you do is make this blood sacrifice to Aterika’Kaal. Your own blood.“ (Sangfielle 52: Six Travelers: Lyke)

[down-the-rabbid-hole]

Okay SO, since y'all seemed to like my idea post I'm gonna ramble about the Borrower Woodrow au! This isn't really a fic nor headcanons it's just me writing down a bunch of ideas for this au

LONG RAMBLE UNDER THE CUT!!!

Okay so for those who don't know what borrowers are, the short answer is fairies without wings. They're little creatures that often resemble rodents that live in people's walls or out in forests, and often "borrow" human items (or in this case Rabbid items) such as food and trinkets like buttons, felt, anything really.

They fit PERFECTLY with the aesthetic of pallet prime!! Given they're often shown sometimes living in trees, or using stuff like acorn caps as hats or tree leaves as clothing, there's so many connections to be made!

Anyways back to what you all are probably here for, Woodrow but s m o l

He'd still have his curse! And wouldn't be too different personality wise? He's still a monochromatic poet. But he'd (at least as a kid) be hiding in the town of pallet prime, scavenging and "borrowing" supplies while trying to stay hidden and avoid being stepped on or caught.

I can see him residing in a library of sorts, and after closing time he'd try his best to read the poetry books there, even making a few poems of his own! Though despite his curse...it probably wouldn't go well. Every time Woodrow's curse would cause something bad to happen, the townspeople would blame it on this "spirit of bad luck", which would become basically this urban legend amongst them.

Eventually, Woodrow would've encountered a young Sweetlopek, who immediately thinks Woodrow's a fairy of some kind would try and befriend him, at first Woodrow would try and avoid him out of fear (Sweets is like 20 times his size, can you blame him??), but after getting over his fear of being squashed he'd accept the friend offer!

(also, I can't stop imagining a tiny Woodrow riding around in Sweetlopeks overalls pocket, it's too cute and image)

Part of me wants to say they just stay as friends since then, but the other part has another idea...

Woodrow starts reading Sweets some of the poems he's made, which is of course causing all SORTS of trouble for the townsfolk, one of which managing to trace the chaos to Woodrow (bonus points if it's that one burly Rabbid that punched Woodrow in canon)

That Rabbid connects the dots to the bad luck spirit and Woodrow, causing the townspeople to go into a frenzy trying to catch him, and he unfortunately gets separated from Sweetlopek during this, who's trying to convince the townspeople Woodrow did nothing wrong and didn't wanna hurt anyone.

Meanwhile in the chaos, Woodrow ends up getting fucking TRAMPLED by the mob of angry Rabbids, but somehow escapes into the forest to safety. Where he'll stay for a while to lay low and avoid other Rabbids.

Aaand I'm just gonna stop the post here before WOW it's getting long, I know that was a lot of angst BUT DW THERE'S FLUFF STUFF COMING SOON I PROMISE. Just gotta get the angst out of the way first. Also gonna be renaming this to the Borrower!Woodrow au instead of Borrower!Phandrow au since it's not ENTIRELY Phandrow centered, though there is phandrow in it eventually!

Thank you for coming to my Ted talk

[mirmidones]

3.40 i woke up bc i was cold and needed to pee and now i can't fall back asleep i keep thinking of the people i accidentally ghosted. is it ghosted if there was no intent to ghost? i feel so bad and it's not even like i don't think about them i often do think "i should really reply to them... once this is over ill properly sit down and write them... " and then i don't bc something else happens and im dealing with that and the longer i leave it unanswered the more difficult it becomes because i feel so guilty and therefore want to do things properly not half assed but bc i feel so guilty a part of me also tends to avoid it even more. if i do this to you just know i'm really sorry and ill get back to you i swear

[lususnatura]

🎤 🎤 🎤

a song that i associate with my muse meme!

AHH, hey, ramone!! thank you for sending in this prompt :D since you sent in three of the mic's, i shall now be treating you to three songs that make me think of blamore when i hear them / that i associate with it. an explanation of why i chose them will be in the tags <3

hozier - who we are.

icehouse - crazy.

depeche mode - personal jesus.

[sendpseuds]

just finished nearly 6000 words of straight smut and suddenly feeling very insecure about writing the other two perspectives...

[randomminty]

2022 art summary!!! Very boringly designed bc im Lazy lol (i did it based off when i made the art, so some of them dont match when i posted it um. Just ignore that)

And then just for fun, a lil comparison to the past 4 years

This year ive been feeling meh about my art and that im not improving as quickly as i want to, but seeing my art slowly changing over only 4 years is definitely helping with that! And apparently i drew a champion iris at least once evey year which is neat (rosa too but she got cropped out of 2021)

And also, heres 4 years worth of yellow bday art. i plan to keep this trend going until i forget

[louisloulouie]

I finally have an opinion on Midnights and unfortunately it is not my favorite Taylor Swift album. I like songs based on the music and vibes rather than the lyrics, so I’m not as into the songs for this album.

Absolute faves: Lavender Haze (wow perfect opening song), Maroon, Snow on the Beach, Midnight Rain. I could listen to all these songs on repeat for the rest of my life, they’re all so *chef’s kiss*

You’re On Your Own, Kid would be my fave but I completely hate how she delivers the line ‘you’re on your own kid, you always have been’. Idk why but it completely takes me out of the song and it makes me mad for some reason????

Question…?, Bejeweled, and Paris are fun so I vibe with them.

I’m very excited for Labyrinth to grow on me, it’s not my fave right now but it’s very different so I can see it becoming my favorite. Once I listen to the lyrics I’ll probs fall in love with it.

Maybe about the say the most controversial thing, but Vigilante Shit is the WORST song omg potentially worst Taylor song I’ve ever heard??? I’m sorry but the music is very lowkey so I have paid attention to the lyrics and they’re so bad and cringe. She sounds like she’s trying too hard to be a badass and even when the tracklist dropped I had that opinion about the song title. Anti Hero and Karma are almost at the same level but I can tolerate them a little bit more.

The 3am bonus tracks….. kinda super forgettable??? None of them really stand out at all to me. Paris and Glitch are cool but definitely not my faves. The second half of the album just isn’t as strong as the first half.