#tumblr give me better quality challenge >:(

[court-jobi]

Best Medicine

Pairing: Din Djarin x reader (AFAB | fem pronouns, but fairly neutral)

Words: 7.7k

Rating: Teen/Mature, 18+ (spicy first half) (K'oyacyi, sweet minors)

Warnings: Implied sensual release, grinding, cuddling, love confessions, carbonite sickness, language, memory loss, emotional hurt/comfort, survivor’s guilt, sleep intimacy, talks of consent/taking advantage, FEELINGS, the helmet comes off, Mandalorian marriages, Din deserves everything wonderful, Fluff/Hurt/Comfort roller coaster ride, angst with a happy(ish?) ending~

//set in pre and post- Season Two | The Mandalorian and the Book of Boba Fett (time jump)...// Translations included at end of work//

A/N & credits: Honorable mentions to @writerlyhabits for helping my mind run wild with carbonite sickness headcanons, and for inspiring me to write out this emotional ride of comfort-HURT-comfort for you all. It’s not often I make any form of whump, my Tumblr lovelies, so be kind and apologies in advance for this… It was both a challenge and an adventure to write~ I promised there’s a lovely silver lining in all my works, and I hope this one is enjoyable!

✨May the 4th be with y'all✨

Need more Star Wars fics? Get your fix w/my masterlist HERE!

Read on AO3

Summary: These are the soft moments you live for: each caress and light word of banter chisel the dark heaviness of life away, chip by chip. Tonight’s no different– you are swept up into the arms of Mando who’s taken your bait, and loving every minute of it. You’re overdue for a break and some quality time.

The quiet cabin of the Razor Crest gave you the space for cozy confessions, to learn more of his mother tongue, and give in to your tendency to get carried away like teenagers, if just for a spell.

Laughter is the best medicine: from the dead of hyperspace, to whatever bed you've landed on while on the run. Yet will that be the case– as the cruelty of time and circumstance test it?

"Ho-okay, c'mere you."

Relishing in your giggles as you wedged your hand in between his newly exposed ribcage, the Mandalorian let out the catch in his throat and quickly picked you up by your thighs– the perfect way to toss you up on one shoulder. You squealed and couldn't stop laughing even as he groused about your ‘cheeky hands where I can see them’, and walked you over to his quarters. 

He swung you back down so that you plopped with a bounce on the recently laundered bunk. It’s tidy – well, was, before you fell onto it– and still smells fresh and windblown from your last stop. Pliant under his shadow, he towered over you with a hand on each side of your head. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t wearing armor; he’s still impressive.

"Do I have to teach you to mind your manners, too?" The rasp came out as annoyed, but you knew better.

He chides the kiddo all the time. 'Quit picking at things', 'don't give her that attitude'; all the magic words have to be instilled in him, as well as just keeping to himself and not being a nuisance. Munchkin has to be taught such things; they're juvenile. 

That's not what he means with you. He's talking about the glances, the bounce of your foot taunting him when your legs cross, the playing with your belt which then tugs your neckline… when you line up your scope just right, just as he taught you, and you give him all the credit. 

You really don't have to try hard at all to get Mando’s attention– it's the game of keeping a step away that leads into a chase that gets under his skin. Especially when he just knows you're up to it. 

You have a few hours to kill until the next leg of your adventure begins. It’s bound to be a restless one when you touchdown planetside, so spoil him, you shall.

You couldn't stop smiling when he caught you.

"C'mon, you can't blame me, space cowboy. You're fun to tease." 

Since you were taken down, you brushed your hair back, let your arms hang above your head, toying with him through your eye’s bat.

The visor transfixed on you told you everything you needed to know: you were practically gift-wrapped under him, and he’s obsessed with the view. That was by design.

Your laughter died down to little hums as you watched him glance to the wall, back to you, then again toward the shelf. He finally decided to palm the panel brusquely to shut the door behind him: encasing you both in automatic darkness. 

You heard the click of the underside of his helmet. A relaxed, hollowed chuckle transitioned to a bright one to fill the silence. 

Jackpot.

Strong arms came slowly down to the bed to hold you, with a warm, -now ungloved- hand brushing more hair back that had framed your face every which way.

The Mandalorian cooed down at you with a saccharine smile you knew had to be there,

"I love hearing you laugh…"

Hearing and touch senses honed in, you reached tentatively to where his shoulder would be, pulling him in and inviting him to lay in his newly claimed spot between your legs. The Mandalorian followed so, gingerly.

You murmured an affirmation as a questioning reply, coupled with a breathy string of chuckles to confirm his desires. Truly your eyes couldn't know the difference between open and closed in total blackness, anyway.

"--and I love listening to you sing," he praised you again. “I can hear you better this way.”

You hummed sweetly, 

"Aww, so you do enjoy being serenaded huh? Big, scary bounty hunter brought to his knees by a wannabe wordsmith with a funny accent?"

Eager lips laid their caring touch to your forehead. 

“Every time." He pressed little cheek kisses to you, too, explaining his untold, priceless comforts in between, "The minute you put the kid to bed is my favorite part of the day."

He feels your fingers trail up to his hair, nails taking through the crimped mess of curls there. He froze his affections the moment you did that. You ease moans out of him at one, singular touch.

He doesn't care how small he sounds, you think. All he knows is ‘I’m safe.’

"And this, is mine:" you said with a softness reserved for him. All teasing is set aside when you do choose to be serious. You shifted so he can let down more weight onto you in the newly shared room, "Taking care of the one man who puts everything and everyone else before himself. It's quite the honor, for me."

Sighs fall from him so easily. You'd imagine his eyes shut at that. 

“It’s you who honors me,” Mando countered.

You wanted these moments to count: taking any chance you could to affirm and provide whatever comfort you can with the little downtime you had.

You know he won't show you, but it doesn't keep you from wondering… when he's so close, you wonder what he looks like under the helm. What kind of hair, how long. What breaks in the skin have cut into him after wearing it for so long, or did he have any prior to swearing on the names of his Ancestors. 

What of his eyes alone? There's the usual gemlike hues, earthy tones; or there's always the artificial overlays people use to disguise themselves or the retinal scans– it's just a special effect they use in those holovids you watch on the weekends. Just the kind he mocked when he caught you watching them. 'Silly and pointless and ridiculously scripted.' And yet while he sassed about the waste of time, you often corralled him enough so that he'd at least sit with you while he cleaned off the carbon scoring of his rifles, to watch them passively by your side… he'd caved to your whims if you so much as touched him. That's what got you here.

With him at his most docile, you felt brave enough to ask what has always mystified you,

"What color are your eyes, hon?"

You heard Mando’s head tilt up with its sleepy intake of breath. A flash of worry that you overstepped hit you, feeling his form rise from its concave state under your touch… but he didn't go away. Fingers wound their way to cup the back of your neck instead– 

–to prepare to taste yours in just a few moments.

"Purple," he answered.

You snorted at the lie. It's just a little bluff, but you'll entertain it… you both are teetering in the realm of what's permitted within his Creed anyway. 

His lips are a breath from yours. You played along; like you'd won the guessing game,

"I knew it."

Your winner’s kiss was the touch of warmth he'd needed all day. 

Eh, maybe he'd tell you the truth one day, maybe not– besides, you don't have any brainpower left to wonder when he's kissing you. 

One turned into two and more, with the Mandalorian’s hands roaming your features until they reached low enough to switch spots and roll you over onto his chest instead. His palm’s exploration over your shoulder gave you the chance to pull away for a breath, leaving you to process the shivers he's causing and taking the time to relish his touch.

"I really do have to thank you," Mando confessed between deep breaths. Deep, like he was really breathing for the first time today. "I've– never felt so.. safe. Ever -in all my life- than when I'm with you."

You melted, until he said more.

"Feels like I’ve cheated the Fates to even be left standing, much less lie down without needing to keep an eye open. I never-- really thought I.. deserve this."

You wondered why. Your browline tensed with worry, why he would be so self-deprecating even after a career like his… littered with wins and paygrades and beskar trophies?

"Ill-deserving of what?" You asked plainly. "--having someone care about you?"

Your Mandalorian fell quiet, simply running a hand up and down your back with complete tenderness. Where his blunted nails caught your skin on the backstrokes, the pads of his glove-worn hands soothed the loving scratches’ path. 

This silent confirmation wouldn’t cut your questions: it’s still a force of habit, Mando using actions to show what he means. 

"You give me kindness. Kindness that," Mando spoke of the wonder of this feeling, "I had to convince my heart to accept. Who'd dare refuse a gift from you… But I can't help feeling it's wasted on someone like me."

Someone like him: a hunter? Or a Mandalorian? Folks frowned upon both mantles. You knew the biases, but you treated him fairly, made him feel valid– even before your feelings for him grew into something much sweeter than a working coexistence. Thank the Stars, you were so happy to find your chemistry was a feeling Mando shared after a late night with a too-close call. A feeling he was apparently still getting used to- hence the apparent guilt of what ‘gift’ he'd been given by having someone so generous like you for a partner.  

This broke your heart every time. Not just hearing his affirmations and words of appreciation when they catch you off guard– but how he’d thank you for the most basic needs of his own.

"Honey," you leaned down your forehead to his, "You matter. Whether you believe it or not, you're loved and not alone in this galaxy. Your words, feelings, they matter to me. It's not wasted, any of it, baby. I'm honored to be the one who gets to love you on the day-to-day basis, yeah, but... even if I wasn't in the picture, I should hope you’d still seek out getting your needs met. That's all anyone wants, I think." 

You caressed his stubbled jaw line with your thumb as it slid and traced down the seams to his chest. Something inspiring bumbled around in your head, so you tried working it out.

"You know as well as I do... these days can blur together so fast when we're moving too fast. We– get in the way of our own thoughts, and that can make our minds a messy place. It’s easy then, we forget how needed our wants are, sometimes.”

The hands caressing you stilled; reverent to every word you said.

“Keep your word, settle your debts, all that’s still true,” you shook your head, “But please don't forget this part, hon... You matter, and that includes the softer things you want. The nice things. What the amazing, kind- hearted man underneath needs."

No person has ever respected him so much. To honor his creed and what it entails, to support what he did, the lifestyle he chose-especially one as taxing as this. He wouldn't call himself a kind man; he was a killer, detached and for the longest time, keen to remain that way.. But if this woman so dear to him said so, maybe he was learning to be gentle after all.

You wished more than ever that you could stare him in the eyes so you'd know he heard you– but you swung for the next best thing: you held your hand right on top of his heart. Its beat was faint under his padded underarmour, but there.

His breath faltered at the touch. 

Mando reached his to find the digits caressing him and dancing his along each one: skin to skin. Has no one really ever told him that? A little huff of air escaped him; you felt his head shake from the motion rustling the pillow beneath him.

"Hell, you're sweet," Mando brought your fingers off and laced them to his lips. "You mean that."

"Of course I do. I don't say it to prove I'm being right. I want you to know the truth."

He was quiet again. Only this time, a purposeful finger ran along your side to coax you out. Tickle, more like.

"Ok, sometimes I like being right!!" you rushed out to make him stop.

"I have a running list of wagers a mile long that says otherwise, cyar'ika. You fool no one, let alone me." 

Mando amused himself every now and then, a sound you loved like a drug, too. You took control and dove up for another kiss, his deep laugh turning into something stronger, deeper. He always kissed you like he was drowning and you were his source of life and air. As if you'd fly away at any minute.

His hands pulled you tightly to him, demanding closeness with firm, undulating grips on your thigh and on your neck to direct you. Kiss after kiss, you eventually led from your point of leverage to start kissing down his neck as an experiment.  He'd gasped at first, but the good kind. The kind that begged, not stalled for less.

“Loving on me,” Mando rasped, “Is that wha’ you– you’re calling nngthis?”

Your boy needed reassurance, something awful, tonight.

You'd normally tease him as you go, gauging his response to touching these new places, but were kind about it tonight. As touch-starved as your Mandalorian is, you didn't want to overwhelm him.

So you merely paused, gave a sweet “Sir, yes, sir~” and carried on after a quick peck on the cheek.

You couldn’t help but let your giddiness escape again when you reached a soft spot on his neck; one that made him say your name in an awestruck cry. Soft on the clips, long on the vowels. God, you love the sound of it, bobbing under your waiting lips as you worship the space. He's warm, stubbled, and just perfect. 

"The way you say my name,” you beamed, “I'm starting to think you like me or something, honey."

Mando sighed out, moving a hand to the back of your head to get your attention:

"Din."

You still kissed him, asking him to repeat with a little hum.

"m'... m' name."

The loving haze blew away, and you with it. A zing thrummed to life in your chest. He’s never told you his name– ‘anonymity was his strength’ dictating the secrecy, after all. Despite the dark, you leaned up on an elbow. 

Your eyes went wide, looking into nowhere at the wall, breathless at the discovery.

"Your name is Din?" 

He was just as breathless beneath you, equally rendered mute as you were. Made sense, it was the first time he'd said the word to anyone in years; the proof lay in how his chest was heaving, "Yes."

"...Din."

He melted at the sound of it on your tongue. 

"Din Djarin." he offered up his family name.

"Din Djarin." so you honored the clan, just the same.

He shuddered, "Fuck, yes".

In a surge, Din Djarin -no longer just the man you affectionately called ‘hey you’- pulled you back to his lips. Heated minutes passed with his hands all over you and your delighted, soft laughs breaking your kisses from pure happiness. 

You now knew his name. Two words that coded him in a way few knew, and you were one of the select recipients of such intimate knowledge. This would take your bond to new heights tonight, and you could barely stand the euphoria that flooded you.

You'd started shuffling about with your hips instinctively over his once as much as your perch allowed and when they settled as an unintentional roll, Din sighed deeply and with a tighter grip. One hand gathered up your hair in his hand, where he could relish the waves in it and hold you back enough where he could lap at your neck as you'd done to him. Your hips found permission to work their magic and you were met with a carnal side of the Mandalorian you'd anticipated he held back all along. Even though his thick trousers and your leggings separated you two entirely, it was enough to scratch the itch and blind him even more to anything around him in a matter of seconds.

Little phrases passed Din’s lips; sweet nothings you thought, with no idea for their meaning. But with him talking, you didn't care if he was reciting the alphabet, his dinner order, or the damn 'Ode to the Empire’. He was practically praying hotly in your ear, and that was a buzz you'd never try to stop and put a pin in the moment to demand a pocket translator.

"Mesh’la, cyar’ika. Ka'ra jaon'kov, cuy’gar mesh’la. B’d jate... Jatne o'r ner sur'haai…" 

One deep roll sent him gripping you tight so he bucked back. The sensation hit you in a special place too; you cried out a bit louder than you anticipated. Before you could even think to be shy about it, Din sucked hard on your neck– and your surprise jumped an octave.

"That's it, sweetheart." Din swallowed, "Kriff, that's a good girl." 

He set a pace that you had no control of anymore. You'd be losing control yourself soon enough.

A bit helplessly, you whimpered along with the rolls, listening to his begs, 

"Din, I ---nnnguhhh"

"What is it, sweet girl? Rejorhaa'ir ni. Does that feel good, huh?"

"Mhmmm.. it feels good,"

"You sound good. Heavens, you sound amazing. So.. so fucking pretty.." Din sought a sloppy makeout that you happily fell into. 

From the warmth buzzing in your face through your body, you shot away breathless in a tiny whine into his cheek; something was going to burst inside.

"Ohmygodohmygod, Mand– Din, I can't..."

He ground up a bit faster, "Ni ganar’e, cyare, I've got you. Let go. Let me hear you, c'mon."

You'd whined again, shaking your head against your better judgment. 

Sensing the fight in you, Din fisted the hand on your hair into a deliciously tight hold– his loving, seductive mouth speaking into the soft flesh by your jaw while his hand explored its way down to your thigh.

"C'mon, I know you're close. C'mon." The bass in his voice turned it into a growl easily. He was desperate too. "Be my best girl, like I know you are."

Oh God that tempted you. You'd been grinding faster, yourself. Not unlike hearing the pre-flight tells you catch when the engines cycle power in the cockpit: you're racing the lighting inside you while still trying to be conscious of the moment. Staying centered on him. 

On Din. Din Djarin.

And with another suckling, lazy kiss to your neck, you'd cried out. The tremors jolted within you, subsiding into trembling shakes even when you quit thrashing against him.

Din's hand dropped to brace your back after your rush, keeping up his pace while you fought for breath. His voice choked out fast, too, ending his chase in a hard groan and his own hips rutting against you a few times harder than the rest, then fell back altogether. Your highs concluded quickly– with the mellow clang of his head thunking against the bar at the top of his bunk as he fell back.

You didn’t mean to, but you chuckled at his small 'ow', so you cupped your hand up to cradle his head. Massage it, to comfort. Even he, the man who takes vibroblades to the flesh and barely sheds a tear, feels vulnerable enough to give a little whine out to play for sympathy.

 Catching your breath has never felt so good.

 Soon enough though, you felt both his hands slide to your hips and push up a bit.

You lifted gingerly, "Oh, am I hurting you?"

"I.. I uh,... made a mess." Din sounded so winded.

You ran hot at that admission.

"Oh. Heh, sorry ‘bout that."

"Oh hell, don't you apologize for that," You could hear the smile, albeit the awkward stumbling behind it. "Wait- wait here." 

He tipped you on your side and kissed you quick. 

"Eyes closed?”

You nuzzled his forehead pressed onto yours, "Already there."

"Atta girl." Din  leaned into another kiss.

He left and changed quickly. Gave you enough time for you to collect your hair up and over the pillow from where it got mussed, hugging a pillow to yourself in his place, still giddy at making the Mandalorian lose himself.

Making Din lose himself.

By his dulled footsteps and overhead bar of light painting a Mandalorian-shaped shadow onto the door again, you hid in your pillow dramatically. The rumbles of his voice carried to you as the door closed and he crawled back to you as before; bare to the room once more and laughing at your comical eagerness for him to shed the helmet again.

"Ok–" Din’s welcoming hand pulled your arm down; familiar, to when he'd collected your hands at the start.

"Hey you." You cooed shyly.

"Hey you." He purred back.

You lifted up into another kiss, this one much calmer and softer, having been sated in the most tender way with him.

Settling back, breathless you muttered out a quick 'hey' to bring him back to the present. "Teach me how to say something?"

Obeying your pause, he slowed to a stop. "In Mando'a?” he asked.

"Mhm?"

Interest piqued his tone, “What do you want to say?”

What your heart’s been singing for months every moment he has his back turned. What you’ve meant and said a thousand different ways other than the three standard words. Only this time, you want him to be in on the secret, too. You wanted to be able to tell him this in a way that will only resonate with him:

“..I wanna say 'I love you'.”

Din went rigid. Then straightening up, he brushed your hair back soothingly, falling to a whisper- another secret.

"We would say..ni kar'tayl gar darrasuum."

“Ni cart ah-"

He chuckled, "ni kar'tayl,"

"ni kar'tayl,"

"gar,"

"gar?"

"darrasuum."

"darrasuum."

"That's it. All together?" Din guided. 

You tried for all three, and when it did , it slid perfectly off your tongue so that a happy, wet sound left him. Something about it must have stung his eyes you couldn't see. You pressed a couple small kisses to his lips.

Mando’a was a gorgeous, sonorous language– and quite possibly the trickiest to pick up.

Then your tone turned curious, "Haven't… you been saying that to me? All this time?"

"You remembered." He nuzzled your forehead, but shook his head a little to answer, ‘not quite’ teased in his motion. "Kar'tayl means 'to know', or another way... It means to care deeply, to care for. Mandalorians use it for many things, depending who they speak it to. There is no word for 'love', so... "

"To really know someone is to love them." You finished sweetly.

You hit the nail on the head, and speaking that core tenet earned you a loving sweep of Din’s thumb across your cheek.

It’s inevitable; your chest was going to burst.

"That's beautiful, Din." You blissfully sighed. He snuck both arms around you, pulling you forward. “Din Djarin.”

"It means so much," he whispered, "--coming from you..."

In that moment, you hoped his heart could rest…

FIVE MONTHS LATER

Din lays at your back, having nestled up subconsciously overnight. 

His arm -the perfectly still, bracing one he relies on when he scouts- found its place so easily spooned beneath yours. Proof you are part of a matching set: intwined in love and bond and safety, even in sleep– at least to him, who you knew once felt he didn’t deserve such sweetness and warmth.

This would have been nothing out of the ordinary, nothing out of character for Din to do with you in bed. He cuddled you nightly, religiously, from that first evening onward, sharing your bed and souls alike since you spoke your first word of love to him. Normally, you’d welcome it, you always welcome him.

But– not now. Now, it set you on edge. Since his last shift of the blankets when he rolled over, you haven’t been able to fall back asleep. In uneasiness, you lie awake and aware of how a once tender act was wrong. Your conscience nags at your gut: no, no, no.

Not like this. 

He doesn't know what he's doing.

Stop him. 

Tell him to move.

Move him.

You willed yourself awake when Din curled in; you really shouldn’t allow this. But for the sake of his rest as all the docs all say he needs, you let him seek his peace however makes him the most comfortable, content enough to watch the ongoing lanes of traffic of early and late commuters of the Ring out your window’s slats. 

Sleep wasn’t easy for you now anyway– not with this every present knot in your throat. It’s set to burst when your mind wanders too far towards what got you here…

There were two callsigns you memorized since meeting Din– not as a request or favor, but a demand. One of course, was his, and the other belonged to one of the last Mandalorians standing from his former covert as a last resort. One that he quizzed you on over and over about answering, ‘should anything ever happen to me’. 

One day, that callsign just pinged you– and sent a good bit of ice into your stomach when you greet a wide-cut blue helm filling your holo. 

“Master Vizsla.”

“Lady Djarin,” Paz greeted with a warm-enough familiarity. 

Something in the way he chose how he delivered his words around you told you that he’s perhaps making an effort to appear personable over a holomessage, whereas he may put on fewer airs face-to-face.

You were honest, 

“I feel like there’s few reasons someone like you would call me, and none of those reasons strike me well…”

“ I’ve only said two words, little bird. Your intuition is a curious one,” his helmet shook a little, “-though, not misplaced...”

You leveled your face, waiting to hear what he had to say.

“I have news. I recovered your riduur. He is alive, though not in the same state as when he left you.”

Now that is a curious response. 

You outsourced yourself for a job and have taken a good, six-week-long hiatus from your shared space rented on the Glavis Ringworld pursuing your own contracts. Although confident in this share of responsibility, it’s been harder being away from each other than either of you anticipated. You spoke on comms for each other’s voices about every other rotation in your separation, though never nearly as far from each other’s mind. But this was your marriage, one you honored in every way- together or apart. 

And anything to bring in some extra credits, and… take your mind off the kiddo’s absence… has been a welcome distraction. 

Only now, with Paz’s news, you’re both relieved and far more anxious to learn just why Din hasn’t answered your hails from an unusual, weeklong stretch of radio silence…

“Sorry, not the same– state?” you asked, “what do you mean? What about his state…”

Before your headspace had the chance to spin– running wild with concern over his body, what he could have suffered, could have fought, could have breathed, ingested, poisoned–

“...state of mind, I fear.” was Paz’s cool answer. “He has lost his Path, and you need to help him guide it back where it belongs.”

This, as it would turn out, was not so easy a malady to heal.

You met Paz at his transmitted coordinates to collect your husband and work through what was to become the biggest challenge this -or any relationship in your life- has ever faced:

Fekking carbonite sickness. Or whatever corrupted version of it Din Djarin had quite literally trapped himself into.

While on his own mission, Paz recovered a poorly thrown together carbonite freezer that a petty gang abandoned, with a select few targets within. One of which entombed none other than his own kih’vod. The reason why he described it as ‘a botched job’ was that the alchemical readouts of said carbonite chamber pointed to a tainted solution: not pure in ingredients that typically secure a clean, minimally-invasive freezing process. When you start cutting corners to save costs, you compromise the effectiveness of the flashfreeze. Some sentients did not survive this treatment; though it was a blessing Din clearly did– though not before taking a unique toll. 

Typically, carbonite would blitz your vision, your extremities; make you feel like a ten-ton transport has dragged you across the Dune Sea then set you spinning through a wash cycle, expecting you to walk a few miles blindfolded as a cool down without a single misstep. 

It makes you drowsy– not lose your short-term memory. 

When Din awoke, the questions posed to him concerning what events led him to his present predicament went unanswered. Not from a place of obstinance, but complete confusion. He’s unsatisfied with himself, the frailty he feels. Being stripped of the mind stung equally as bad as if it had his body– which conveniently, was also hurting. 

He got angry, Paz said– furious as to what could have altered his head and made him feel so out-of-body. There were decent chunks of recent days, weeks he claimed he could not recall. That list grew as he couldn’t even say what his last paygrade was, what he’d done with the Guild for the last year, what had become of the covert on Nevarro. When he glanced at a darkly mirrored reflection of himself, he didn’t know how he procured the newer portions of his chromed armor. 

The bad news continued to careen out of control. He didn’t recognize the mudhorn etched on his shoulder; had to ask the Armorer why that creature was added. To her immovable surprise, she sobered at how serious this truly was. He didn’t know his Clan? Of its addition?

He didn’t..--he didn’t know the name Grogu. Never even heard of such a species. 

When shown a holopic of the kid, he simply looked at you and asked if something like that could speak- could maybe answer to what happened to him. That nearly broke you on the spot if the Armorer hadn’t ushered a still-throbbing Din to sit and receive a medical consult and diverted your attention. The whole scene was a heartbreaking one, though Vizsla spared you most of the big questions you wanted to ask by ripping off the emotional bandaids himself.

It was by Paz’s explanation that Din had been told that you were his wife, his riduur. For some strange reason, he accepted that quickly. Explained straight away why you stuck around. But in the hours and days that followed, your partner was far from the cozy and nurturing man you’ve known for so long. Even if he tolerated you, he still appeared to consider you a stranger. You knew why, and therefore didn’t blame him one bit. He was hard enough on himself for his failings on a good day. Getting himself into such a vulnerable situation and having to nurse this blasted headache everyday that barely seemed to let up would naturally only make that self-image worse.  His steps fall heavier, carrying weight unseen. 

It was clear a depression was setting in as the hard first days melted into a week. Into two. The man you loved walked through your shared home as a cold, distant shell of himself, filled to the brim with unspoken anger, confusion, guilt, and lost pain. 

While in your company every day, you led most of the talking- just about practical things. Suggestions when he lost his train of thought, simple choices, graciously avoiding the oliphant in the room by keeping topics in the moment with your usual, helpful nature. It’s your default and, so, hard to break; but for the most part, Din Djarin accepted that too with nods and hums of agreement. He poured himself into some easy reconnaissance missions and errands to try and pull himself out of the dark, but he offered very little depth of dialogue with you, claiming he’s focusing on meditation. Centering himself. 

But you knew better. Centering, introspection– that takes a different form with Din when he’s in a bad headspace. He’s hating himself, punishing: for being a disappointment, to be your problem. 

Though… oddly enough… your nighttime routine had not really changed. That’s the most bittersweet feeling of all of this. 

When it came that first night to talk about your living arrangement, he insisted that nothing change: for you to keep your bed, and he would busy himself elsewhere. But as you both just talked things through about what your next steps should be, sitting side by side against the headboard watching the nightlife stream in through the porthole of your room, your drowsiness took root, and he somehow fell asleep right beside you– as though nothing had changed. 

In the silence of morning, he didn’t speak on it; you carried about your days as before, getting by. But sure enough, when you’d catch up at the end of the day, the same sinking feeling around you would hit at the same hour, you’d lie down, wake with him having never left his side of the bed, and the cycle would repeat. 

A poignant, if painful, reminder of what connection still stood between you– and what little  comfort the universe was offering you in the midst of a horrible situation through your Mandalorian’s touch.

Still, you know it’s not the same. It’s instinctual, not intentional. You don’t cry anymore about it. You’re all sniffled out, though your throat hasn’t gotten the memo. It seizes every time he calls you by name instead of Cyar'ika. 

So here, he sleeps behind you:  seemingly none the wiser about the more amorous nights that bombarded your god-awful, precious memories. These dreams, they keep you awake at all hours of the early morning when even Din’s subconscious cries out to hold you. To allow him to sleep by your side when surely his entire world felt numb and unfamiliar? It was his blessing, and your nightly curse.

A noise, finally. A little catch, high behind your neck- a barely-there attempt to wake up. In trying, he squeezes you in, then settles with a soothed groan. Din’s nuzzling between your shoulders. The scent of your conditioner must be the only thing keeping him in such a drowsy state. On the edge of sleep, he’s still able to make you melt with his rarely-seen gentle nature. 

And despite the circumstances, you laugh at this, softly.

"What are you doing?" you ask of yourself more than him: but he answers…

"Mmmm... y'r warm.."

Now that’s your Din. That’s your Darling talking. 

It’s him… and not. 

"Djar…” you sighed with a catch in your chest, “Honey, wake up."

You’d shown him where he stowed his helmet on the shelf while you slept and that you’d never get up before him, so he didn’t feel exposed. It was torture though– you always woke up before him now and were subject to his snuggly nature: sans the intimacy you once shared by turning into each other. That wouldn’t be fair now, wouldn’t be right, even if it was what you craved the most about mornings with him. For now, you’d face away, until he was ready.

Din stirred again. His limbs gave a quivering squeeze to wakefulness. You knew it the moment he must have opened his eyes, because his breaths seized. He’s aware, then... even more aware.

"Oh,” he broke through his morning voice with a rush, “I'm so sorry-- I was just-"

"It's ok, just relax,” you threw confidence into your voice, “How’s the head?" 

“It um.. It’s ok. Kind of achey.”

“C'mon. Lay down and rest.” You’re selfish and can’t help settling in, "It's not like we have to get up yet. Paz still has the speeder, so we can stick to this side of town until he brings it back."

You held onto his wrist carefully, returning it to its lax spot between your breasts, just where it fits. You just want him lucid; even if he doesn’t hold you as tight as he used to.

After the Grogu holo incident, you couldn’t bear to ask him more about what he does or doesn’t recognize. You couldn’t bear to ask him if he remembered you, and you wouldn’t, even now. How could he, after all? If he didn’t even know the face of his own son, what chance did you have? You’d met him months after taking on his charge. Based on the gap of time Din struggled to remember, you certainly fell within that ocean of nothingness. No, you didn’t bother to ask him things of that nature. You simply accepted his companionship and moved along.

At your word, Din nests back in, presumably to get a few more minutes of sleep. But then, he  breathes in, and you sense it’s not purely therapeutic, the way he’s settled into you. He’s scooted closer, and not to readjust his posture. He’s moved your hair, and not to get it out of his face for his comfort–

He starts– kriff, he’s kissing you. Kissing you like he means it. Little pecks. Your neck, your shoulder, and– you stop him.

"D- babe,- you don't have to,” the warning lights fire off in your brain, holding his wrist firmly now.

Din mumbles more between presses, "I want to.”

"Mando, you-"

"Call me Djarin again."

The way he hushes you, so fekking softly, it sounds like him… dank ferrick. .

Stars, it’s weird. This whole thing is weird. When was this supposed to let up, a vague ‘week or two, come back for a new assessment and we will review the prognosis’? You try to hope he’s feeling more like himself after a good night’s rest, but you can’t really explain this behavior.

Your restraint now is a testament, a promise to protect him as he’s always protected you:

" You’re–” you shoot yourself in the foot and craft the words as they break your heart. “You're not yourself. I can't ignore that. I know it, even if you don't."

You’ll curse this blasted phase in the future, when everything settles and eventually goes back to normal. But this is the one time you’d ever call such tender treatment truly insufferable. He pauses in his affections,

"--No," Din then counters, gentle and curious, "I… I remember this part..."

Remember what? You’ve shown him video still after still when he asks, letting him lead his own recovery journey as he wills. You obviously do your best, but it hurts you– and you’re not so sure he doesn’t notice judging by the sweet ways he apologizes for troubling you. 

You’re sure he’s being kind. "Do you, now."

Facing the wall with empty focus, you kept your sights down, ignoring how he braced himself on one arm and attempted to turn you onto your back. You followed the give of his hand’s press on you, but not much. And of course, you still didn’t look at him. Can’t stomach him revealing himself to you when you assume he’s doing it out of duty; what’s expected of him as an unwilling, ‘newfound’ spouse.

But when he spoke again, the barest of touches skidded along your collarbones, up the neck…

"You were born with these,” Din shares with a reverence. “Here. Little Ones, from the sun. But this: this was an accident. When you were small; your skin was too new."

Your eyes honed on a red traffic light outside– the sight of it mimicked your alarm. He’s brushing a scarline– yes, from a childhood incident you told him about… months ago…

"You really can't see it unless your face turns red. Pretty sure I’ve seen that,” Din trails off, sets to brushing your cheek, “Turns white, against the curve. You get embarrassed, but I remember telling you to quit–”

"--to not worry about it." you finished as a whisper. “Din.”

‘Makes you who you are. Pretty as a picture, meshla. Think of it as a brushstroke, when the Maker was putting on the finishing touches of you.’

He knows. He does know you. He hasn’t forgotten?

Your eyes stung when you tried to blink the memory away. This makes no sense…

"I’m sorry- you remember that…” you shake in awe, “But– not?…"

Grogu?

"I know." His brow furrowed, "or.. rather, I don't."

His hand set atop your bicep– something grounding.

“I want to," he begs of you, "Truly, I want to say I feel like I’m nearly there. If only to convince you to look at me.”

You laid flat the rest of the way. Mostly so you could better hear him and not make him think you’re hiding, but also, you could now reach him more comfortably. 

Bittersweet tenderness braided you two together-- here in an unbelievable turn of events. 

You lifted your eyes to him at last. Din whispers again,

“Angel Eyes…”

The endearment makes you nearly sob. Dammit, he does remember. Relief, grief, it’s all muddy.

"I don't remember my foundling’s name.” you’re crushed at how mournful he sounds, “-which is a sin in its own right…" But he speaks with life-rendering conviction,  "But I know I told you mine. I know where we stood, which light panel on the Crest I turned off, how you- h-how you kissed me back that day.”

Your foreheads touch, the invisible string pulls you to do it. The lids of your eyes shut on contact with the ebb of a hurricane behind your eyes.

“Please use it-" Din asks of you, "-until I can remember all of the rest. Until I can remember every time I have ever told you ‘I loved you’-- and revive it, tenfold."

The tsunami's pressure strikes you down. You bury your sob down your windpipe and lunge for him– to kiss sense into him if it's the last thing you do.

And kiss, you do: for the release, for answers, for solace in an unfair time. For whatever reason, your riduur finds the same comfort, though he is desperate at the other end of the spectrum. You, in knowing a shred of him still exists and rejoicing in that; in him, grasping onto that one fact like it’s the only thing he has.

His entire energy is sad beyond belief, but he looks at you like you're his lifeline when you part. Din wets his lips- masking a tremble by how he bites it. 

"This is the only thing that feels normal. Feels right. I don't understand it…"

The shadow of his humility shines, even as he wallows in his present struggle.

"You'll get there,” you swore through tears- not all of them sad anymore. “If this is any proof, you'll get there. Won’t last forever."

You share another kiss for healing. By how his brows seem to even out, you wonder if it’s actually helping to ease the pain after all. It’s firm, longing. It’s all you have to give him.

Din looks you over as he’s in close proximity- refamiliarizing himself with every high point in your face, every contour, and gives a genuine smile. 

“Pretty sure…” he worked through the whirl of ideas behind that dreamy gaze, “... had a dream about that kid. Kept taking that– did he try to take the gear shift off the Crest? Y’know, the ball end? Think it was a toy?”

And finally: you laughed for the first time in weeks. 

“Yes, he did! It’s the one thing that survived the crash!” you burst into happy tears. “Oh my God, I can’t believe it~ see? You’re–”

"You haven't laughed. Not in days," Din interrupts– "I like it when you laugh."

You hear it once more, plain as day:

I love hearing you laugh.

–like it was yesterday…

"I know you do." you calm yourself. "Maybe one of these days, you'll remember how you bring it out of me."

He considers you, and a funny little aire of critique passes across his face.

“Something tells me that’s not hard to do. I’ll try my best,” he scrunches his perfect nose, “M’not a comedian though, fair warning. ”

“That’s ok. It’s your delivery that’s the funniest part. Munchkin thinks so,” you reminded with hope. You worded it like a question, hoping Din would visualize the instance easier if you made it sound casual. 

“Seems to favor testing me, more like– what you've told me so far.” Din trails off on his own. His brow twitches, showing his head may be pulsing, but he’s fighting through it. “Better be one to mind his manners the next time we see him. Wonder if the Jedi teach that, too.”

Understanding just how many times he'd looked your way expressionless under the guise of armor, he'd learned the benefits of using words when you came into his life and makeshift home. It was a change of perspective that was all too necessary; that he could truly speak his mind and that you would listen anytime- day or night. The way he communicated was truly poetic once he felt comfortable to release the matters of his heart through his mouth. 

So now, even when his mind has split and you were left to patiently wait out for his memories to return in full force, you'd simply hold his hand and keep the anchor set so his heartstrings could untangle themselves.

You smile despite the gap in understanding the gravity of what he'd just spoken- that Grogu was with a Jedi without hope of any visitation date that you knew of. It's still so hard without him– another pain you feel that you're shouldering alone…

“Have I said that before?" Din's flare of insecurity flared like the ebb of his headache. "I'm not making things easier by opening my damn mouth, am I…”

You sift the thoughts away, out from the forefront, "No…" you say, to ease his worry. 

You're reminded of how much he is still the same Din. The power of his gentle words and the potency of laughter: the best medicine he could take. With knowing tears lining your eyes, you answered with a massage to his temple,

“It just means more, coming from you."

Translations:

Mesh’la, cyar’ika = Beautiful, sweetheart. Ka'ra jaon'kov, cuy’gar mesh’la = Stars above, you're beautiful. B’d jate = So (good) Jatne o'r ner sur'haai = Perfect (good, superlative) in my eyes. Rejorhaa'ir ni = Tell me Ni ganar’e, cyare = I have you, my sweetheart

#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #may the fourth be with you #i wrote something sad for once #but i promise i landed the plane #angst with a happy ending #din djarin smut #din djarin fluff

[siriannatan]

Flower Husbands Fantasy Thing

Inspired by these beautiful designs by @applestruda on Tumblr. Go see all their pretty art.

I might have based a lot of Martyn on the old sheriff

Being the winner of the tournament to decide who was worthy of challenging the demon king was never on Scott's life plan but here he was. Couple of weeks away from the capital and the Grand Oracle who said the whole thing about the tournament. Searching for a very specific smith. A smith who - according to the Oracle and the King - was capable of forging a demon-slaying sword strong enough to kill the Demon King. At least they knew more or less where said Smith lived. And after some asking in the nearby town - the local Vigil church folk were no use but a certain tavern owner knew the man Scott was looking for.

So after couple more hours of fighting with the forest, Scott has finally reached a small house with a smithy next to it nested in the woods. "Hello? Anyone there? I'm a knight from the capital?!" Scott called out after tying his horse to a low fence. She had no issue and just started nibbling at the clovers the whole clearing seemed to be covered with. "Smith Martyn?"

"I hear you, ya' whippersnapper!" an angry blonde man with a cane grumbled and mumbled as he came from the back. "What do the capital idiots want from ol' me, huh?" he asked as he completely ignored Scott and sat by the door to the house and pulled out a pipe.

"Apparently I'm supposed to kill the demon-king, at least according to..."

"Not with that toothpick you ain't," Martyn huffed. "JIMMY!" he yelled into the house what had someone drop something metal and yelp in pain - maybe it landed on their feet?

"They did tell me to..."

"Of course, they told you to find me I'm the best. Too bad for you I ain't going on any adventures. Lucky for you I know more or less where you can find the proper stuff to make the sword you want, and I'm willing to give you my apprentice. Wait here a second," he said and went inside. "Hurry up you slow-poke, grab all your important things, we're leaving...!"

With nothing better to do with himself, Scott stood there and tried to ignore even more yelling coming from inside. Was this really who he was looking for? The swords displayed in the smithy did look to be very good quality so he didn't think he was in the wrong place.

Jimmy had no idea why Martyn was telling him to pack. And the damned old man, as always, refused to explain himself so he just packed - light as he was told and left the house. What he would love to be warned about was the handsome knight currently waiting outside, one had on his sword. Dressed in silvery armour Jimmy recognised as mythrill - not a cheap material, with a white tunic with a red pattern at the low edge with a cyan overcoat. No helmet, but that made Jimmy's problem worse. He could see his handsome, flawless face, soft, fluffy cyan hair, and bluish-cyan eyes.

And he was staring at all the swords Martyn had Jimmy make for his training. And he didn't have that dumb look most of their visitors had when looking at them. And while his sword was clearly of a good make Jimmy was tempted to maybe get him to switch it for one of his. Just because Martyn always said the two of them were the best smiths out there. A knight in mythrill armour should have the best sword, right?

"Move it, Jim," Martyn's cane smacking his head had Jimmy move out of the way with a disgruntled expression. 

"Mister knight here needs you to forge him a sword to kill the demon king, so here," Martyn passed him a journal Jimmy has never seen before, "is my journal, should tell you two where to find the right tools, materials and the workshop."

"But..." Jimmy was about to protest. Forge a sword to kill the demon king? Could he really do it?

"You can do it, you learned from me boy," it was probably the softest he ever saw Martyn. "Grab Wednesday, she's faster and a sword. You too knight-boy, if you two hurry you should be in town before sunset. Trust your instinct and nothing else. And if you let my apprentice get hurt demon king will be the least of your worries," Martyn huffed and Jimmy just then noticed he had a bag of his own.

"What about you?" the knight asked what Jimmy was about to ask.

"I'll be off to the capital after I set this thing burning. Gods know these fools will need me. Stay safe. Stay vigilant. May the gods keep you safe," he explained and turned away, obviously already done with them. He would not question why Martyn wanted to burn the smithy. Demon King was involved and possibly had his cronies already looking for Martyn... The old man could take care of himself. At least Jimmy hoped he did.

Jimmy just sighed and started doing as told. Sword first. "If you feel like you don't need one I'll be not offended," he told the knight.

"You made these?" he asked, already looking over one of Jimmy's most recent creations.

"Yeah, the boss doesn't really smith anymore so I had to learn pretty much from his words alone," Jimmy sighed and picked out a random sword. It wasn't like he even knew how to properly use one. "My training did not include how to swing one effectively," he quickly clarified. "Um... I'm Jimmy just... I don't..."

"I'm Scott, technically it's sir Scott, the Flower Knight but I'd rather you don't call me that if we're to travel together," the knight said with a frankly too-perfect smile. "These are all really good swords," he praised and Jimmy felt himself blush a bit. "I can teach you how to defend yourself if you'd like," he offered and grabbed two swords. One a bit longer than the other. Jimmy didn't question it as he packed a few tools and maybe a couple of daggers. Just in case.

Scott was kind of glad he got the pretty avian apprentice and not the grumpy old smith if he had to go on a quest collecting all the stuff they'd need to make the sword. And how hard can keeping one smith alive be? Especially if they are cute and hard to miss with their pretty golden wings and hair. And tall. Dear gods, Scott liked tall men too much for his own good. And to make it worse Jimmy wore baggy clothes, and was a smith, meaning who knew what was hiding under his turtleneck shirt, wrap-up sweater and blue vest. No matter what was under there Scott was pretty sure Jimmy could pick him up. Mythrill was known for being durable, strong and light.

"I'll get my horse ready..." Scott smiled after picking out the swords. He might need an extra sword before they get the special one made. And these were made by Jimmy, making them even more special. Even with just a short peruse, he knew the sword he picked would work perfectly for him. And that the sword Jimmy picked would not work well with how tall and lanky he was. Why he grabbed a second, longer sword?

Poppy, his horse, helped herself to the clovers at the edge of the clearing. She did straighten up as Scott approached, shortly followed by Jimmy and a calm chestnut horse. Wednesday he assumed from what the old smith said. Speaking of, the old man was still moving shockingly quickly around the place. "Will mister Martyn be okay?" he asked but mounted Poppy as Jimmy mounted his horse. She did not look too happy to carry the young smith.

"Martyn's damn hard to kill and much more skilled with a sword than I am... How far is the capital anyway?" Jimmy almost seemed to shrug.

"Like four days at a moderate pace... depending on the weather and the route," Scott gave a rather generous estimate. "And how many and how long breaks you'd take," he quickly added.

"Oh... He'll be fine with Blitz, he's a fast one," Jimmy nodded. He didn't look too convinced but Scott nodded along. No need to scare him too much. They were likely to encounter worse things along the road.

"From what I saw a dragon would not take him down," Scott grinned. "Shall we? The road down the mountain's quite rough."

Jimmy took one more look at the smithy and nodded. With a heavy heart, Scott nodded and led the way to town. This would be one heck of an adventure but he would do all he could to keep the young smith safe. Luckily Scott was more than just a tournament knight.

#my stuff #my stories #fanfiction #empires smp #third life smp #3rd life smp #flower husbands #scott smajor #solidaritygaming #jimmy solidarity #martyn littlewood #inthelittlewood

[thefallenangelsgang]

The Avantris Fam Discord got this a few days early, but, in a burst of academic energy I haven't felt in weeks, I wrote a 2k word Literary Analysis on Marius from Edge of Midnight in 4 hours (complete with citations and sources)

What you are about to read is the culmination of an 18 day hyper fixation (I averaged more than a session* a day) (*each session being about 3 hours in length). It has only been slightly edited for better Tumblr consumption. It is legitimately almost 2k words. It starts VERY academic (as I get to flex my knowledge on an obscure Arthurian legend I love) and then immediately drops off in quality as I traverse some "dubious psycho-analysis" (my own words) and try to wrap up a half finished thoughts that should be thousands of words longer.

If you want to see my active descent into madness or the original google doc this was written in, join the discord (linked above!). I've got massive Legends of Avantris Brain Rot and will for a very long time I fear.

TW for Sexual Assault Themes (please tell me if my tw tags are not extensive enough)

CW for my insufferable academic attitude, literary analysis where no one wanted it, "dubious psycho-analysis", half finished thoughts, DnD, vampires, and my sailors mouth

Marius: An Analysis on Chivalry and Chastity

Break to save your dash

To get the literary shit out of the way, Marius’s seduction is a parallel of the Arthurian Legend “Sir Gawain and the Green Knight” intentionally or not. I have a sneaking suspicion perhaps The Duchess scene is also based on the “Tale of Sir Galahad” bit in Monty Python and the Holy Grail BUT that bit draws inspiration from Gawain’s story. So no matter which way you cut it, Marius is connected to Gawain to SOME degree.

Attempting to be brief, I’ll sum up Gawain as briefly as I, someone who loves this tale a ridiculous amount, can.

Gawain is King Arthur’s nephew, a knight of the round table, young, chivalrous, pious, but itching to prove himself. He loves the aging Arthur and Arthur loves him like a son but he feels restless in his station because he has not gone on a great quest like many of the other knights. 

Serendipitously, during the New Years celebrations a strange man enters Arthur’s great hall. He is green and carries a great axe in one hand and a bough of holly in his other. He challenges anyone in the room to hit him with the axe and he will return the blow in a year and a day. No one takes the man up on the challenge. Arthur is about to do it when Gawain takes his chance to prove himself. Thinking he can outsmart the Green Knight, Gawain cleaves the man’s head from his shoulders. Unexpectedly the Green Knight picks up his detached head, leaves the axe for Gawain as a trophy, and strides out of there with the reminder that he will return the blow in a year and a day. Gawain has effectively doomed himself.

Attempting to put off his fate, Gawain waits to seek the Green Knight until All Saints Day (November 1st). He is sent forth with all of the pomp and circumstance a Knight of the Round Table and favorite of King Arthur can get. He spends nearly two months seeking someone who knows of the Green Chapel where the Green Knight resides and is fruitless. Winter sets in and he begins to suffer exposure when he is greeted by a beautiful castle that seemingly appears out of nowhere. He meets the Lord of the Castle and the Lord's beautiful wife. In the spirit of Christmas the Lord challenges Gawain to a game. The Lord will be hunting the next three days, anything he catches is to be Gawain’s. In return Gawain is to give the Lord anything he receives during his stay.

Well what Gawain receives is a lot of unwanted attention from the Lord’s wife. She attempts to seduce the ever pious Knight. Gawain, minding his promise and his tenets, only allows her six kisses over the course of the three days. All of which he returns to the Lord. But seeing as she can’t sway him with the sins of the flesh, she tempts Gawain with magic. The same day she convinces Gawain to receive three kisses she offers him an enchanted sash that will keep him from harm. Gawain accepts this knowing it will save his life in the coming days. He breaks his promise to the Lord and does not divulge this gift.

Gawain keeps his appointment with the Green Knight who admonishes Gawain when he flinches at the first swing, holds back on his second, and finally drives home the third, only wounding Gawain slightly. Gawain now must confess his temptation to the Green Knight who tells him that it is not Gawain’s fault. This has all been a plan by Morgan le Fay to attempt to ruin Arthur. Gawain only fell to part of her plan and so it has been thwarted. He should learn from this stumble on his path. And learn he does.

Monty Python takes this tale and guts it for “the Tale of Sir Galahad” segment. Galahad is instead searching for the Grail when he stumbles upon a mystical castle with a grail shaped beacon. His temptress(es) are the “8 scores” of young women of Castle Anthrax. He too enters the castle sick from exposure and wounded and thwarts unwanted advances until he learns that the grail is not there. Before he can fall to his temptation Lancelot, Ector, and ironically Gawain rescue him from his “peril” judging it to be “too perilous” for him to face. (It is really important to note that the actual Sir Galahad in Arthurian Legend doesn’t have a story that even resembles this one. Galahad is supposed to be an emulation of good ol’ Jesus Christ and the perfect chivalric Knight. He literally ascends to heaven in his tale. The only reason Gawain’s Tale is used is because it is the perfect setting to test “Sir Galahad the Pure” as long as you fudge a few details.)

These are both humorous stories with happy endings. It is important that Marius’s story is not.

Marius is searching for the Grail much like Sir Galahad in Monty Python and the Holy Grail (a parallel Mikey brings up often by singing “Brave, Brave, Brave, Brave Sir Robin Marius”). 

Like both Gawain and Galahad his quest leads him on a lengthy adventure that causes him to suffer from exposure to the elements. A fate he is saved from by a mystical castle that appears out of nowhere. 

Much like Gawain and Galahad, this Castle is the home of a seductress. 

And all too much like Sir Gawain, the Lord of this Castle is away on a hunting expedition. 

But here is where Sir Gawain, Sir Galahad, and Sir Marius’s stories diverge. Because Marius’s story partially is a story of sexual assault. 

We see in the ritual that Marius’s “head is filled with exhaustion, wine, and a strange perfume that feels almost magical in its enchantment” (Nikkie’s narration, 2:32:00, Chapter 17). There’s literally no other way to say this, Marius cannot consent to the acts about to take place in The Red Duchess’s bedchamber. He is too sick, too drunk, and, on top of it, literally charmed. 

His affliction is also another facet of this assault. While his transformation is not a direct result or part of the sex act, it follows quickly on the heels of it. Nikkie even notes Marius is still naked and that the shame of what has just happened is beginning to bubble up.

(Now this is where I get into the dubious psycho-analysis)

Perhaps attempting to swallow that shame, he accepts the Faux Grail and drinks from it, not questioning the appearance of the so-called Grail of Dawn. If he can just get through this night he can bring it back to Victor and all will be righted. He can live with the shame if it saves his kingdom. 

But that isn’t the Grail of Dawn he is drinking from and the woman who has just taken something irreplaceable from him is not just a beautiful woman looking for the comforts of the flesh on a cold, lonely winter’s night. And he is going through something so much more horrible than being assaulted like he has been.

And so he ends up back in the cold, irrevocably changed through no fault of his own, and he hates himself for it.

It’s heartbreakingly common that Sexual Assault survivors blame themselves for being assaulted. Marius’s conviction that he was at fault, that if only he was stronger, smarter, less feeble, he could have found a way to say no. He could have escaped her clutches. He wouldn’t be a Dhampir. He wouldn’t be haunted by her noxious perfume. He would still have his clear connection to Lathander. 

None of it is really his fault. The Duchess took advantage of him. There was truly nothing he could have done to change his fate that night.

At this point I am trying to articulate some of the things @middycat_ @zer09851 and @purpledinosaurdnd were talking about here https://discord.com/channels/223485292449890305/892828741900849182/1182483200505815153 

I think I want to jump into my High Inquisitor thoughts because they tie so closely with the novel I wrote above. This section is admittedly a little more scatterbrained. 

The High Inquisitor is a perfect example of both Marius’s self loathing and the way abusers seemingly can sniff out who has been abused before. From the second we meet her she singles Marius out. While yes, Marius is the most “normal” out of the EoM cast, Jericho is a MUCH easier target. He is touch starved and his sin is literally Envy. Jericho would have bent immediately at the first hints of affection and then she has an actual demon under her control. But Marius, though a tougher catch, is a much tastier meal so to say. (Not in that way you freaks /j) 

By answering to the High Inquisitor’s beckoning is how we end up with Marius as the Crimson Abbot. His self hatred would make him spiral and he’d turn to his Wrath to compensate. We’ve seen it before, especially recently when he thinks Lathander has abandoned him. He gives in because it's so much easier. She wants me? Fine. Let her have me in all of my broken glory. I’m too wrong to serve Lathander. Etc etc. 

Man, I wish I could string these thoughts together better.

AHA! This was the thought I had that I felt needed more context! 

@middycat_ brought up “hoping beyond hope that it’s not lathander’s choice to leave him”

I think the severed connection between him and Lathander is both a subconscious self-sabotage and a direct result of the ritual binding him to The Red Duchess. 

Most of the binding rituals I was pretty comfortable with. Lethica, Briggsy, Farryn, and somewhat Yorgrim were simply binding themselves to their gods/patrons. (I’m still not entirely sure what the Maiden of the Mists' whole deal is about but she seems mostly benevolent for now. Mr Crossroads didn’t really make Briggsy that way, he kinda was a bastard from the start. The zombification was a result of “fuck around and find out”). The ones I felt least comfortable with and that are reaping the most consequences are Jericho and Marius. Jericho’s character analysis is another similarly sized tome that will have to wait but he is having a harder and harder time keeping Virgil in check. Marius has bound himself to the woman that literally raped him. 

No wonder Lathander has found it hard to commune with him, The Duchess is practically breathing down his neck, whispering in his ear that he is not worthy of Lathander. He has been debased, ruined, made unloveable in the eyes of that god. And at least up until Chapter 22 he has been pushing back against that. Not any longer. He’s given in. As @middycat_ said “he’s a tired old man, a jaded old soldier who should have long since given up this fight to someone else.” 

I am afraid we are about to see the beginnings of the Crimson Abbot

And the only thing that can save Marius are his friends.

But I am also afraid they may not learn their lessons in time. Many of them tried to encourage him to fuck or made fun of him for not fucking the High Inquisitor when he was clearly triggered by something. 

Jericho will have to quash his envy. 

Briggsy and Farryn will have to admit they were wrong.

Lethica and Yorgrim will have to speak up.

Inaction hurts as much as action

And Marius needs all the help he can get.

[If you stuck this out A) you deserve awards and B) check out my other 2k word research essay on a niche topic: Why Ghouls Look Different Across the Fallout Games (Not because of Stylistic Differences) ]

This is fucking insane but here are the sources i used

Sir Gawain

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sir_Gawain_and_the_Green_Knight https://www.yorku.ca/inpar/sggk_neilson.pdf (Translation PDF if you want to read the tale)

Sir Galahad

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Galahad (for the one time i reference his actual arthurian legend)

Monty Python (I really can’t believe I cited this)

https://montycasinos.com/montypython/grailmm2.php.html (This is a script I was quoting from) https://montypython.fandom.com/wiki/Sir_Galahad (I was looking for other info on him in the movie but ended pulling the list of knights from this)

Pretty basic article on why victims blame themselves

https://www.throughthewoodstherapy.com/sexual-assault-survivors-blame/ (In case you want to do some light reading)

EoM Episodes

17 + 22 Definitely Anytime the High Inquisitor shows up

#I apologize to my fallout mutuals #I was doomed by the narrative #These silly dnd bitches in my electronics are funny #I guess I'm just gonna be known for writing 2k word essays on topics no one gives a shit about but me and a handful of other people #Legends of Avantris #the crooked moon #crooked moon #edge of midnight #marius renathyr #King Arthur #arthurian legend #arthurian mythology #arthurian literature #sir gawain #gawain and the green knight #DnD #d&d 5e #d&d #dnd 5e #5e #homebrew #DnD compendium #literary analysis #literature #english literature #classic literature #dnd character #dungeons and dragons #paladin #dnd5e

[the-modern-typewriter]

Any advice on how to write enemies-to-lovers relationships? I have these two characters (one is a heroine/ protagonist and the other is an anti-villain/ antagonist) that I imagine to start off as enemies and slowly fall in love, but I am afraid that they’re incompatible/ the chemistry between them won’t work. And I don’t want their relationship to be forced.

I did a post here on writing conflict in a romantic relationship:

Much of what I say there applies to enemies to lovers and is a good way to start thinking about the characters you have.

If you know you are writing enemies to lovers from the start of your story, the way you set up and create the characters is typically different to when you just write characters who aren't intended to get along ever.

Background bits that are relevant when I talk novel advice

For background reading, generally, if writing a novel, I would recommend familiarising yourself with some common story structures such as The Three Act Structure, The Hero's Journey or Savannah Gilbo's romance-specific take on the Seven Point Story Structure.

Also, this thorough guide on character arcs by K.M Weiland.

I feel it's important to throw this in, because I'm ultimately doing a quick tumblr post, so my tips aren't going to do dig super deep. I'm just hoping to get you thinking about your characters/offer perspective and hopefully clarity.

Now onwards, to enemies and lovers...

I personally like to think of enemies-to-lovers romance characters (though, let's be real, also my protagonists and antagonist generally) as a set. They don't have to match, but they are designed to comment on each other - be that through reflecting the worst or best (in a happy romance, they reflect the best) of each other.

E.g. for me they are often narrative foils or mirror characters. This means that the characters contrast in a way that they highlight each other's qualities, be it how they are different (foil) or how they are the same (mirror).

A romance story in particular is often all about answering the question 'why are these two great for each other?' 'Why should they be together?' 'Why is it worth fighting for this love despite all the obstacles in the way?'

In an enemies to lover's story, one reason is often because they have a unique perspective/ability to challenge each other to reassess their own attitudes and stances (see where this is going back to foils and mirrors?) and thus further each other's character arc.

Foil route:

A simple version of this is, 'hero' character must learn to look out for themselves and not just other people, 'villain' character must learn to not just look out for themselves in order to be truly happy. Bam, collide, and somewhere in the middle of these two extremes you have an actual healthy approach to life, which they end up landing on through interacting and learning from each other. Thus, despite being fundamentally different, they both make each other better, happier people, and this is the basis of opposites attract. They complement each other flaws.

The mirror route:

The characters, despite having opposing goals, learn as they interact with each other that they actually have a lot in common, value similar things, and so a bond forms between them because of this as they realise that, oh no, they actually like each other. A lot. The internal conflict of the novel is reconciling their growing fondness for each other with their still separate goals.

This also means that, for me personally at least, the two sides of your enemies/lovers romance need to be somewhat balanced. I.e. your antagonist cannot be unredeemable monster with no valid points to make, and nothing for your protagonist to reasonably attracted to in them. Similarly, your protagonist cannot be always right, completely wholesome or perfect or...what do they have to learn from the antagonist? What do they have in common?

Obviously, add attraction on top of this + specific reasons to be attracted to each other that fit your characters. Like, as many reasons as you can give why yess, these two, the better.

I don't know your characters, so I cannot tell you if they are incompatible or not. So take-away question, do your characters have the potential to support each other and make each other better? If not, then you may have great tension as a protagonist/antagonist dynamic and they may have sizzling antagonistic chemistry, but that does not necessarily mean they should be in a romance together.

#writing talk #enemies to lovers #writing tips #writing advice #hope this helps #writing

[rumredcomic]

🏴‍☠️ahoy to everyone who follows this account!🏴‍☠️

● I put Rum Red on the shelf earlier this year for a lot of reasons, but I've never stopped working on it. I drafted a BUNCH of chapters as sketches for the comic pages, and I now have scripts for some of the (most challenging) chapters from book 3, with only 2 left to write until the draft is totally done!! I also made a whole animatic and a half! :-D

● Tumblr hasn't quite been working as a comic hosting platform, since there are just far too many changes I make on a regular basis for the quality and cohesion of the comic, and editing that here is a bit of a pain.

● so, after remastering the 4 chapters I've published here so far, and finishing ch5 to make all of book 1, I am going to be uploading them all here, on Rum Red's very own website!!! ✨✨✨

● chapter 1 and 2 are up there right now with shiny new rendering and a couple of brand new pages, too! the writing and pacing has all been tweaked so I'm hoping things read a lot smoother now. there's also a plot summary introduction and a character bio page where you can get to know the cast a little better!

● I'll be adding the rest of book 1 over the next few weeks, and then I'll... see how working on book 2 and 3 call to me, haha!! as such, this blog will be turning into more of an "updates" page similar to the one on Twitter, so if you follow here you'll be notified of chapter uploads and other progress with the project!!

● finally, there's now officially a Ko-fi account where you can support Rum Red, either through a one-time donation or by a monthly subscription. it'll take me some time to set up the rewards for doing so (which will most likely take the form of behind-the-scenes content and early access), but if you like what you read, any support you could give would really help the comic thrive!!

and if you happen to know of any pals of yours who might like it - send it their way! it'd really make my day. :-)

stay sailin'!!!

- Fleur

#rum red #rum red comic #webcomic #pirates #comic #fantasy

[umhuhwellthen]

The final Neko Ninja Orphan!

I do not recall... If I posted her already....

tumblr stop bullying me challenge CLICK FOR BETTER QUALITY

I like Nao's design a lot but like (ese pinche conejo) Yuichi I did NOT have a fun time drawing it, mostly the choosing of color palette and kimono pattern

Kitsune sees a kindred spirit in her

Uhhhh neko ninja ramble from notes app:

Funny how Lady Fuwa ended up giving the Neko Ninja the means to defeat her. Like she was the one to instill in them that the only thing that mattered was loyalty and love to the crew, to their family, to her. And then Chizu got a found family and immediately moved her loyalty and love to them and kicked her ass, and then the Neko Ninja decided that yes their love and loyalty was for their family and they will fight to protect it, and that means she was no longer considered family for the harm she has wrought it. A good sense of irony y'know?

#samurai rabbit: the usagi chronicles #samurai rabbit the usagi chronicles #srtuc neko ninja #srtuc neko ninja crew #neko ninja #samurai rabbit #the usagi chronicles #usagi chronicles #srtuc #srtuc neko ninja orphans #srtuc nao #should i be tagging them as srtuc ocs #but i feel like thatd be claiming them and i wanna see others people ideas for the neko ninja under the masks :( #srtuc kitsune #yuichi usagi #usagi yuichi #lady fuwa #srtuc lady fuwa #mybart

[kyemeruth]

Rents and wants

It's been a while, Tumblr.

There's a lot to talk about, to digest, to rant, to basically dump here. The year's about to end and I am not really sure if I’m moving forward or I’m stuck somewhere. Sometimes I feel like life’s really great and then there are times where doubt creeps in. Those days were frustrating, draining really. I feel like I’m going through the motions. I would have wanted to talk to a professional, just to check if the gears are still in place. Hehe. 

Those gloomy times challenge me but there’s always that glimmer of hope that we’d always see better days ahead. Prayers, that constant reminder that God holds you, it makes greater sense to me now. I remember I felt that when I was also struggling with professional growth in 2018. I was 25 then. Probably it’s age too, 32 this year and musing about the future can make you anxious. In the end, faith keeps me grounded. 

The past few months were quite testy. I’m rethinking this office work I agreed to. It’s taking precious time from me to do research and pursue other worthwhile things. It’s also taking some toll on my mental health. At some point, I felt so angry because an office colleague has been taking advantage of the leniency of our working relationship. They’re basically tampering on time records to show they’re not late to the office or that they’re present even when they’re not. Add to the injury was the poor quality of work. What really triggered me was the fact that they’re checking our work and the time we spend in the office, when they were the ones doing the damage. That person resigned, forgave them, but the “inis” stayed because I thought the whole thing’s resolved.

More recently, such issues resurfaced. This time alleged “chismis” as the culprit. It’s really the littlest of things. I don’t really like these kinds of tensions because it veers away from the work we should do. We’re also beginning a reorganization. There’s a lot to envision and hope for, but until these creases are resolved, I’m not sure how change can be managed. 

I like the work I do, but doing PhD is more important to me now. I want to study, to learn, to write. Abroad that is. The goal is lofty. Targeting a top uni in Europe and another in the US, but hey what stops us from dreaming this big. The push and pull comes from these priorities. I know I can do a good job with the reorg, I still have a lot to give. But I also know that I don’t work on my PhD now, I’d be resenting this decision and always going back to the what-ifs. 

It’s scary though. Write a proposal, get someone to recommend you for grad school, talk to a potential advisor. Living abroad is the least of my worries. The preparations are what scares me because I have to put myself out there again and pour heart and soul with 50-50 chance of making it vs not making it. The potential failure scares me. 

And then of course I have to think about the future for our family, for my parents in particular. Papa’s about to retire in a year or two and they would need a place to settle down. They want to travel while they’re strong. That we can work on. Buying a house for them is what fills my mind recently. Our rent here will go up next year and they won’t be selling the house to us because the next generation owners have future plans. In my mind, we have at least a year to look for a permanent house and put together enough money to make sure it’s ours. As the eldest, the responsibility falls on my shoulders. My brothers are getting married in the next two years, our youngest sister’s planning to work abroad and prepare for it, and my other sister would most likely be in between jobs next year given thesis work. So yeah, exciting times, mixed feelings too. I’m expected to step up.

Amid all these, I thank God’s perfect timing. I did not expect the promotion late this year and I kind of was annoyed at first because I don’t want to be beholden to someone. But then again, you always thank whatever’s on your way. It seems that the promotion’s for this bigger responsibilities next year. My return service ends this coming February so I am relatively free to pursue my PhD. I am entrusted with bigger stuff at the office, commended for good work, so yeah, the pressure is there, but we soldier on.

The memes had it right. I thought the 30s were more smooth-sailing. Being born in a middle class family with no intergenerational wealth, in a third world country, faced with inflation and less security, it could really get frustrating and lonely. Sometimes I just want to sit down and stare, maybe things would rewind and we’d be back at least to days where dreaming of buying a house would be much more achievable. 

You can’t blame us for enjoying an overpriced coffee and healing our inner child once in a while. The world’s in flames and rents continue to rise. Some luxury might just keep us going and help us survive.

#life #life updates #precarity

[leo-actually-draws-things]

I never posted about my own tmnt iteration (Next Gen, might change the name but I don’t know what to ((give me ideas in the comments will be nice)) and with the name you can infer it’s the next generation of turtles, similar but different to the last ronin by a lot) (they’ve been bouncing in my head along with TAAK ((I’ve been working on the 2nd chapter but life has been busy, should be up maybe next week some time)) ) and I am making a reference to their main outfits now, I just don’t have access to my drawing tablet at the moment, so have what I’ve labeled as “Clothes Don’t Make The Turtle Pat 2 Electric Boogaloo” with outfits from @citrus-sours fruit outfits drawing challenge

Will put more information about them in more in depth post about the kids individually

But here is Caravaggio (blue mask), Virginia(orange mask), Carracci (purple mask) and Rosa (red mask) (tumblr mobile click for better quality)

Will also be talking about their parent and aunts and uncles in a separate post

#tmnt next generation #own tmnt iteration #tmnt iteration #tmnt Caravaggio #tmnt Virginia #tmnt Carracci #tmnt Rosa #thank you for the drawing meme citrus it was really fun to design the poses and modify the clothing for their shells!

[tiglo]

Deathloop Slab only: Day 2 (technically 3)

So uh, I didn't write down what I did in game yesterday, and I was high as fuck so I hardly remember what I did either, so you'll just get the cliff notes

-I got the Flicker upgrade for Aether

-I got every base slab that I didn't already have

-I all but finished Space invader

-I finished Devouring of the Lambs and Lost in Transmission

-I got the unique sniper

Day 3

I wanted to finish Radio Silence as soon as possible today mainly for plot reasons but also because I wanted the purple quality PT spiker that tags enemies, the last of the horizon stations I need to do is the one in Karl's bay so I have to spend the morning in The Complex (I didn't try the wake up challenge again).

This trip to the complex was very eventful but I don't have the patience to give you a minute by minute transcript so basically I'd fuck up and fail stealth, successfully sneak away, then fuck up again for like 20 minutes. Anyway I only sent power to Karl's Bay since I don't think it does anything but unlock the Horizon doors.

I wanted to go to Karl's bay next but you can't go at noon for some reason, so instead I went to Fristad Rock to kill Fia again, she spotted me when I opened the door to her... round room thing. Which really showed me how useful that gun is going to be in this challenge. And I got Withdrawal which gives me power every time I get a kill while Havoc is active, it can basically make me immortal for an indefinite amount of time.

But in the afternoon I actually have three things to do Karl's Bay, first I collect the Earworm upgrade for Fugue which isn't really that good, then I find frank's fireworks to properly start The Ballad of Ramblin' Frank. Finally I go to the Horizon station and have a conversation with a past, present or future version of myself (the lore is weird, I might do a video/long tumblr post about it). I also collect the password and the tagging nail gun

I spend the Evening in Updaam, first going to the RAK and learning I need to kill every visionary but Julianna in order to get to Julianna to kill her by having another conversation with another version of myself (again, the lore and story is weird), finally completing Radio Silence. I then go to Otto's workshop to find it burned down, oh no if only I could have done something to prevent this tragedy from happening. Then I finally go to Aleksis' party to kill him again. tip for finding Aleksis: he is the only person at the party with two exemplar Limp 10s which are easily noticeable since they're orange. I turn off the chocolate tap to draw him into the cellar where I murder him and collect Zone which is a decent upgrade for Karnesis. Julianna invaded somehow even though I turned off invasions.

The next morning I go to Updaam again because I remembered that this game is about a time loop so I could just stop the fire before it happens, so I do that and comeback to Updaam again at noon to get the password for Franks fireworks and I collet Reach from Charlie by crashing his Among Us larp party. I go Karl's Bay, thankfully collect Discord from the collector and stealth kill him for the first time in my time playing this game, and sabotage Frank's fireworks to finish The Ballad of Ramblin' Frank. I go to The Complex in the evening and collect Ghost which is good for normal stealth gameplay but because of my current playstyle it isn't all that good. this was probably the shortest day I've played in deathloop, that might just be because I actually planned the whole loop that time

Thought's on Flicker:

I never used Flicker much in regular gameplay but it is actually very useful since it's like havoc but no one knows where you are, so outside of one situation it's better in general.

#deathloop

[thedreamyperidot]

Very much new to tumblr, so I'm not entirely sure how all this works yet. I don't exactly know how to respond to reblogs yet so bear with me. First off, your ramblings are totally fine, don't have a problem with it at all. The reason I'm responding to you is to explain my perspective on the game and how it was handled. This mostly concerns you calling the devs lazy. (Note: I don't fault you for thinking this, nor am I upset about it. Sorry if this ends up being a super long reply lol)

I'm not going to go deep into the details of my life and who I am, but I think it's important to know that I've been taking game development classes for about 2 years now. I'm not an employee of GameFreak, or the Pokemon company, so I can't give any definitive answers on why the game came out the way it did, but I am almost certain that it isn't because the people involved were being lazy.

I'm not exactly sure how to best explain this, but from my experience with the game, it seemed like the team behind it genuinely cared about the project. The art direction completely shifted, pokemon are much more detailed now, there is an overabundance of things to see and do, and the core game is actually really fun. Character designs are great, the writing is well done, and there are so many creative ideas at play here.

Now if that is the case, why is it such a mess from a technical perspective? There is the chance that their game engine needs an update, and there is also the fact that this is their first fully open world game, but I don't think either of those are the main culprit. The two potential reasons why I think the game ended up the way it did is either a lack of time, or a lack of money.

First off, let me explain my reasoning for time. Breath of the Wild was the first Zelda game to attempt an open world. It's development started not to long after the release of Skyward Sword in 2011 with a planned release date in 2015, but got delayed to 2017. This left that team with a development time of 6 years. The dev time for Scarlet and Violet was presumably 3 years, with SwSh dlc, and Legends Arceus being developed at the same time. When you are making an open world game that has a strict deadline, some corners are definitely going to have to be cut. This deadline is set by the Pokemon Company to keep sales up while pumping out more merchandise.

My second thought is that there is not enough money going around. Before anyone says that Pokemon is the largest franchise in the world, yes I am aware, however, Gamefreak doesn't get to decide how much these games are funded; the Pokemon Company does, and they also have to balance out things like the mobile games, merchandise, the card game, the anime etc. Gamefreak only gets a small small portion of that cut. Because of this, they can't just quadruple their team size just to pump out higher quality games quicker, because The Pokemon Company wants to turn a profit.

As unfortunate as it is, this stuff isn't completely in the hands of GameFreak, and as such they don't really have much control over it. This is mostly speculation on my part, but it is a fairly educated guess. Sorry for the long winded post, but I think that the devs get treated quite unfairly by fans who think that they are the sole reason that the games won't improve in quality.

I hope my own rambling at least gave you some insight on game development, and it's many challenges and I hope this helped you understand my point of view on the subject a little bit better!

oh my god! yeah maybe saying lazy wasnt the best way to go tbh, it was 2am when I made those tags so my word choice wasnt the best (Also why I mentioned how if you disliked the tags you could let me know sjdhjfj)

I think that the points you make are completely true! Game Freak mightve cared a lot for the game but due to factors out of their control the product ended...like that. It's honestly such a shame as someone who was a huge pokemon fan since they were 8, seeing the series suffer due to capitalism has been incredibly disheartening.

Thank you for this ask! I appreciate your thoughts in this and I understand my wording might not have been the best.

#ask #whoops i meant to respond to that privately.

[pixlerelish]

Day 5: Least Favorite Movie

Short Answer: Born on the Fourth of July

Longer Ramblings: Under the cut

Disclaimer: I have NOT actually watched this movie.  I WILL go back at some point and give it a chance to redeem itself.

I tried to watch this twice, the first time I got about half hour in, the second time maybe about 45 minutes in.  I’ve done war movies before, so I don’t have a problem with that, and I’m not sure what it actually was that made me bail, but I was not having it.  I’ll have to try again sometime when I’m in a better state of mind.

I DO want to see the end though, cause there’s got to be some redeeming qualities if it got nominated and all that.  PLUS, I didn’t even get to see Willem Dafoe.  Foe shame.

---

Godspeed @lephantomdelioncourt​ and HA @lovesickmermaid​

Tom 30 Day Challenge Tumblr Thingy Cruise

Original Ask Game

---

#Born on the Fourth of July #Tom 30 Day Challenge Tumblr Thingy Cruise #Tomblr #Unpopular opinions ftw

[myloversgone]

Welcome, 2023

A/N: This a very long and personal post. It’s not a fluffy, smutty fic, unfortunately (even though I have lots of those in my WIPs folder). Soon, I’m hoping to be able to fully come back to this space I love and cherish so much. I just felt like I needed to organize my thoughts and feelings first, and tumblr is a safe space for me to do that. If you read it, thank you. If you don’t, no worries, I don’t expect someone to do so. This post is more for myself anyways.

2022 was the craziest year of my life.

And I’m not prone to craziness. I don’t seek adventure, I’m very practical and safe. Boring, if you will. 

So all the challenges (except for one), came to me without my agreement. I was sure I was in control of everything, and the past year showed me I’m definitely not.

At the beginning of the year, I went through major changes at work, including a new boss, and it required me to change my own behavior, completely against my will, in order to keep my job. It was hard and it went against my principles, but I didn’t have a choice at the moment.

Then I got sick and, after a long and exhausting period of going through tests and doctors, I had to go through surgery. It was supposed to be a very simple procedure, but it ended up in a series of complications that crushed me, physically and emotionally.

In the meantime, my family was (and still is) facing financial problems, and, because of that, their quality of life took a big step back, which was very frustrating to me, and even more for my mom and dad.

While all of that was happening, I was trying to prepare for the challenge I’ve chosen to go through: moving to another country, something I wished and dreamed about for as long as I can remember. For that, I had the unfailing support of my wonderful family, my previous boss, and my closest friends. But that decision was major, a long-term one, and I made it thinking about a future that is still way far ahead.

My country couldn’t offer me better job opportunities, mostly for political (Bolsonaro can go fuck himself and die) and economic reasons, and I was very unhappy in my uncomfortable confort zone. So, thinking about a better future for myself and for my parents, I moved not only to a different country, but to a different continent.

It was so hard. By the time I thought I would be organizing myself for the change, I was recovering from my disease, and, at a certain point, I thought I wouldn’t even be able to move, because nor me or the doctors had a precise answer for how long it would take for me to feel better. But I managed to recover, slowly.

After a very bumpy and complicated arrival at this new place, for the first month or so, all I could do was think I’ve made the wrong decision and wished to go back home. I would cry every single day, punishing myself for not being able to overcome this and live the dream I always worked so hard to accomplish.

Then, as if things weren’t hard enough, one of my dogs got sick and died. My dogs are the most precious things in my life. I love them unconditionally and with my entire heart. To be completely honest with you, sometimes I miss them more than I miss my parents. 

When I heard the news about my dog passing, the first thing I did (after crying my eyes out) was search for plane tickets to go back home. My dad was suffering a lot, because the dog who died was his favorite, his best friend for the past 9 years. He rescued her and took care of her when she got sick, so the impact on him was huge. And, for me, not being able to be there for him was incredibly difficult. 

But I realized there was nothing I could do. Going back home wouldn’t bring her back, and I didn’t want to give my dad another reason to worry about me. 

So I stayed. Despite money issues, language barriers, insecurities, loneliness, I stayed. I doubted I would be able to do that (I still do), and I felt like nobody here liked me or wanted me around. The last  time I had this need of belonging, I think it was during elementary school. I was afraid I would be alone for the holidays.

But then, I found a group of people that are in the same situation. They also have doubts and fears, they feel lonely and homesick too. And we bonded and celebrated Christmas and the New Year together. 

Well, now 2022 is finally over. Major changes came, for me personally, for the people around me, for my country - fortunately. I feel like things are finally starting to get better (even to write that makes me afraid and doubtful). I still search for stability, for connection, and for the means to be able to come back to my old self. 

I wish 2023 can bring me some of that. I’m trying.

Happy New Year everyone! Love to you all!

#personal

[wolfbetweenrivers]

When the pandemic started in 2020 I was hit very hard by its effects. I lost so much. I spent months alone, struggling with motivation to continue because everything that happened was such a massive blow on me. 

Art has always been my passion for as long as I can remember. I wanted it to be my career from a young age but was constantly told I would never get anywhere with it. I believed the people who told me that. As a result I never explored what I could do with it and never tried opening commissions years ago and thought I should only keep it as just a cute little side thing. I was posting art on Deviantart during my late teens. But then Deviantart started getting worse so then I deactivated and started over on Twitter, Instagram and Tumblr. I kept activated and deactivating new accounts because I had confidence issues that extended to my art. I realize now how counterproductive that was. 

When I was affected by the pandemic, I had no path forward. A path forward is something I have always desperately needed even before the pandemic started because my current situation, even before, was not and is not exactly desirable. So when I lost the best chance at changing things as soon as possible, I was obviously crushed by all this. After months of struggling, I was able to pick myself when I started becoming more active online but still not doing much as an artist. I was mostly just consuming content while also doing lots of research because I was in a period in my life where I was trying to figure out who I am. By the end of 2020 I decided that I would ignored everything people told me about not being able to get anywhere with art and decided to just give it a go. I had sought out advice that was publicly shared by many young artists who were successful. I decided that I would try to actually apply myself as an artist and try to create a path forward. I wish I didn’t wait until it was the only option left before finally doing this. 

So 2021 begins and I attempt to post one drawing everyday and I promised myself that instead of deleting my current account I would commit to it and keep going. Let my work show my growth and improvement. This was challenging though because I was using a shared home computer. And that computer was very cheap and did not even meet the minimum specifications for a digital artist. There were also many personal issues beyond my control that kept getting in the way. Despite that, I was able to accumulate over 100 followers on Twitter which was honestly more than I ever thought I’d get. But I knew I couldn’t go on with the aforementioned restrictions. I needed a new laptop that met minimum specs for digital art. So out of desperation I opened commissions, started a Ko-Fi account, even knowing that in my place on the developmental timeline at the time, I probably wouldn’t have much luck. I was able to get a few. But in the end, I couldn’t get enough. The situation forced my hand so I had to pull together what I got from commissions and Ko-Fi donations along with my personal savings to order a new laptop. I had hemorrhaged  so much money for this laptop that I currently use. So I kept commissions and donations open by default since then. 

2022 started and I decided to try again. The amount and quality of work I could produce was so much better. During this time I had finally figured myself out and mustered up the courage to try and reach out to others who were like me and shared similar interests and try to befriend them on Twitter, since that’s where most of them are. These people have become my closest friends ever since and have been very supportive of me. 

This motivated me to keep going as my growth as an artists started improving significantly at an exponential rate. I have slowly been getting more commissions and just recently, I celebrated 800+ followers on Twitter.

You may have noticed while reading this that I am mentioning Twitter a lot. That’s because Twitter is were I have the most support as an artist. This has been the case ever since early this year when I fully embraced my art niche which is drawing handsome buff guys. Twitter is where the target audience is for the most part, which is also why most of my close friends are also there as they are also fellow guys who like drawing handsome guys. 

And recently, I managed to secure a personal commitment that would significantly speed things up in terms of being able to improve my situation. If everything goes well, I should be able to finish the commitment in around 2 years. Then it’ll be easier for me to find ways to achieve financial stability, while still continuing as an artist. That would in fact make it even easier for me to go full freelance sooner than without the commitment.

I’ve worked so hard for 22 months. I’ve come so far. But now everything I built up on Twitter is at huge risk of collapsing because of the ego and greed of one spoiled man child. 

On Twitter, I’ve been offering my followers the other places they can find me but I wonder if that will be of any substantial use. Instagram is also progressively getting more and more user hostile. Tumblr is good, but here’s the thing; I used to have lots of support here, but ever since I embraced my niche in art, it’s been a lot less than before. From what I’m seeing, there really aren’t a lot of artists who are like me, in terms of niche and target audience, on this website, especially ever since the end of 2018. 

I really don’t know what do if Twitter ends up getting tanked because of him. I mean sure I could keep posting on Tumblr and Instagram but progress will be a lot slower in these places and I’m desperately trying to build a stable income from my art so that I can go on to live in a better situation that would not only be better for my mental health, but would also allow me to draw more of the things I wanna draw but currently can’t. 

If you’ve read this far, thank you. I really needed to vent this out. I’m still unsure what to do, but all I can do now is hope for the best.

#vent #not gonna tag the man child #just in case #twitter #my posts

[shinxistudio]

2023 in Review

2023 was a very tiring year, to put it mildly. I know everyone has been having a rough time, not just me. There's so much going on to be angry or upset about.

I want to at least try to focus on the positives and my own development that's happened over the course of this year. This post will likely be super long and rambling, so I'll put it under a cut here.

If you don't want to read it all (valid), I want you to know that we can make 2024 a better year together. Things will be better. We will make them better.

As far as my own personal growth, I've done quite a few things that I was always nervous to do or felt weren't possible.

I'm still anxious now that AI is even more of a problem than NFTs and standard art theft, but I want to share my art! I hate that I have to sacrifice quality by watermarking and making everything into JPGs, but it's the only way I'll feel safe enough to still share my art. I'm also anxious about getting chewed up by social media in general and ruining my mental health by feeling like I have to be Always Posting.

1.) I've started posting my art again publicly, on Instagram, Twitter, TikTok, YouTube, Facebook, and here on Tumblr. I've started streaming on Twitch again, too.

I've tried to maintain an art blog or something similar multiple times before either getting too protective of my work or giving up. I don't want to give up again.

I've also started interacting with other artists more. I want to make more art friends! It just sucks that trying to reach out and comment often on Instagram takes so much of my energy.

2.) I've opened my own online shop on Etsy.

I've only made one sale so far this year, and it still means the world to me. I've always wanted to have my art on shirts and prints. The designs I've started off with are some basic ones, and I want to push to have even more detailed and cooler stuff. It's scary trying to sell my art as merchandise, but I want people to have stuff that they'll be excited to have and wear. I've ordered one of my own designs that I was the most excited for and I love it. I love being able to wear something I made.

I wish I had the space to do all the prints and things myself. I'd love to be even more involved in the process than using print-on-demand, but then that also requires me to have more time for order maintenance and less time for art and myself.

3.) I've opened commissions on VGen.

My friend was kind enough to give me a verification code, and I've opened a few offerings. I still need to advertise and push my stuff, but I feel a lot more confident in my art than I have in the past. I've tried to offer commissions before but always felt my art wasn't good enough. It didn't help that people rarely wanted my art, either.

4.) I'm cracking the code of my own brain.

I always have issues sticking to habits and being productive. (I'm almost certain I have ADHD, but trying to even get to see a doctor for an official diagnosis is something I haven't had time or money to pursue.) This year I created a scoreboard to try and gamify things that I need to do. It really helped me get through this year, all the way to about October when it became too much to maintain. This past month I've revamped it to make it more fun and easier for me to keep up with. I'm super happy with it so far, and I hope I can manage this one all the way through 2024.

5.) I'm taking my health more seriously.

I've been aiming to exercise at least 3 times a week, go for walks, or do anything to keep me moving. This has definitely helped my mental health and it's something I want to continue this year. I walked 1200 miles as a personal challenge! This year I'm aiming for 1500! I want to aim even higher, but I don't want to pick something so outrageous I burn out or don't bother finishing it. My rule is always that I can raise my goal but never lower it.

My friend got me into Conqueror Challenges, and big shiny medals have been a motivator for monkey brain.

I feel like I wrote this all mostly positively with a negative spin. That wasn't my intention, but I'm also being real about where I am and where I want to go in my life. I'm still learning and figuring out what I really want. I just know that I want art to become a much bigger part of my life again, and I want to be healthy so that I have that much longer to create even more art. I have so much planned and so much more that I want to make or media I want to try.

I was also able to lose some weight and I think that's made a difference, too. I don't feel as brain-fogged or as tired. I need to focus on sleeping more, though.

6.) A small thing, but I'm taking good care of my plants.

I love having plants so much, but they usually don't last very long. I had to get rid of my plants when we first adopted my cat, but I've made space for them that will keep him safe and out of them.

A coworker gifted me a plant for my birthday at the beginning of 2023, and it's still going strong. It's gotten huge since then. Looking at it honestly makes me so proud. One of my dreams is to one day have a green house or sunroom filled with different plants, and a garden to grow our own fruits and vegetables. It would make me so happy if this guy could be the first in its permanent home there.

7.) I've been doing better mentally and with handling my emotions.

I've always been highly emotional to the point that I couldn't control them. I'm still working on it, but I'm getting better at not letting my emotions lead my actions and taking time to think things through. Journaling has helped a lot, and I'd like to start meditating regularly to see if that helps, too. My girlfriend has been so patient and helpful with this since we've been together, especially in this past year. I'm incredibly lucky to have her. 😭 💚

I want to be hopeful for 2024. I want to put out more artwork and have more fun that I can share with others to make this year nicer for us all, if only a little.

If you read this far, please just know that I'm proud of you for making it through this year. Whether you were able to do things that you wanted to do or not, you survived and I'm happy you're still here.

I hope you have a much better year in 2024, with more love and kindness, more fun, more good food, and more rest. 💜

#shinxispeaks

[timeoverload]

Maxwell, I'm sorry if you are feeling sad and insane right now. I don't want you to feel that way but I understand. I feel the same way. I wish I could fix everything right now. I hope that I can make things better next week. I am not going to leave in tears again. I don't think I can make it through another winter without you. It gets harder every year and I can't do it anymore. We NEED to talk. I'm scared I'm not going to get another chance to talk to you. I just want to give you a hug because that would make me feel a lot better. I don't want you to give up on me. I really would like to spend time with you during the holidays. I NEED YOU.

I'm so tired of people on the internet thinking I'm crazy and I still would like to prove them wrong. I guess I am a little crazy in some ways but this is real. I am not talking to myself. I have been writing to someone I know in real life and he has been reading my blog for years. He's not the only person that looks at it either. He won't admit it to my face but I know he's lying. I also look at his tumblr regularly that he denies having. We have been stalking each other on the internet for a long time because we both just want to be together. He is not allowed to contact me currently but I hope that changes soon.

It's a complicated situation and I know it is probably confusing to people that don't actually know me in real life. I appreciate my mutuals that read my posts even though they might not always make sense. I also appreciate the people who have sent me messages lately to check on me because that means a lot.

I'm just not ok right now and I am very unhappy. I know I will get better in the future. I am desperate for something to change and I'm going to make it happen. I can't keep living this way and things are continuing to get worse. I have no quality of life at the moment. I'm struggling a lot both mentally and physically. It's difficult for me to find joy in anything even though I have been trying so hard to be happy.

I honestly don't know how I made it through today considering how bad I have been feeling. I felt like I needed a wheelchair this morning and the walk from the parking lot across the street was a challenge. I don't even want to talk about my day that much because it's always the same old bullshit. I spend a lot of time daydreaming about escaping and going on adventures. I'm just glad I didn't have to stay late. I'm tired of talking about it.

I know that everything will get better soon and I need to keep reminding myself that. I know I won't always be a depressing mess. I am looking forward to the future. I am not going to give up. I need to keep pushing myself and think positively.

I'm not sure what else to say right now because I'm tired. My brain feels overloaded at the moment and I think I need to decompress for a while. I need to rest while I can because tomorrow is going to be a long day. I'm hoping that it will be better than I think.

I hope everyone else has a good night and a good day tomorrow. Thank you all for listening to me. I really appreciate the people who take time out of their day to listen to what I have to say. :) 💖💖💖

#personal

[lexi-destria]

10 July 2023

[This is a cross-post from my iNaturalist, though it contains minor edits. I intend to make several cross-posts between iNaturalsit and Tumblr in the future. Whereas iNat will focus mostly on the natural elements and observations related to the journal posts, Tumblr will expand upon the cultural and historical significance of each featured site, and provide citations whenever referenced.]

I recently hit two very important milestones as a self-teaching Naturalist. Both the 20th and 24th of June marked 5 years since I began recording Trailwalks throughout Indiana and Illinois (which have yet to post to another channel or content-hosted site at this time). Additionally, the 13th of July will mark 3 years since I began posting to iNaturalist, which has taught me to become a better researcher, photographer, and videographer. Most importantly, it has taught me to respect and appreciate nature.

With five years of observations and three years of research, it was time to start imposing personal guidelines as motivators in not only building up the confidence to start posting my Trailwalks for the world to view, but also to ensure that the data I am collecting in relevant and promotes some form of scientific value.

Beginning 13 July 2023:

- With the exception of documenting a life first, a drastic environmental change, or a concerning observation (i.e., a deceased animal not from natural causes, a suspected new invasive species, etc.), once a specific location has posted, it will NOT be revisited. This is partially to encourage branching out of comfort zones and visiting new sites, yet also give previously-visited sites a final “hurrah” of sorts.

- Specifically-visited sites will be accompanied by a journal post detailing the timeframe that observations are expected to post; provide information regarding the site’s geographic location, environmental factors, and notable landmarks; and state the cultural, historical, and ecological significance of the specific site(s) featured. I intend to keep the posts on iNat limited to observational research only. Unedited posts with full citations will be available via a dedicated blogging website (currently a Tumblr separate from my main account.)

- I am going to try for a minimum of three (3) observations posted daily, though I expect life situations will make this impossible on certain occasions. Those posts will spill over into the next day.

- Observations for the featured locations will post no less than three months after the initial exploration date. The only exceptions will be for the first tour through Channahon, future Citywide Nature Challenges/Bioblitzes, and for one-off posts documenting the aforementioned exceptions. (I sadly have the sheer bad luck of coming across dead birds. A lot.)

- Finally, I feel as though I have been very generous in the circulation and availability of my photographs. Unfortunately, and very recently, some bad actors (outside of iNat) have tested my patience. All my photos are and will still be available to use with proper credit, but I WILL NOT remove the watermarks from the photos which I have deemed to be higher quality. Any and all of my observations posted prior to 13 July 2023 will remain without a watermark since they are considered published, and of course you may still use any of my observations, watermarked or none, for research, school, educational purposes. But never for 3rd-party puzzle game apps.

I’ll try to find a way to properly archive all my posts. In the meantime, thank you very much for reading!

-Lexi Destria.

#10 July 2023 #Lexi Destria Archive