#It has consumed my brain and o need there to be more of it

[starlight-archer]

Sorry to everyone who followed me for Stranger Things and Baldur's Gate 3, you're getting inundated with Dead Boy Detectives now lol

[caffeine-high]

Vuurtoren

Fandom: Ordem Paranormal, O Segredo na Ilha

Characters: Bárbara Lima, Amelie Florence, Olivier Florence, Milo Castello (mentioned), Miguel Castello (mentioned)

Tags: Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Isolation, Self-Destruction, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Character Death, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 (complete)

Words: 1156 (Total: 6126)

AO3 link

Summary

When the chaos dies down, and they have some time to catch their breath, it dawns on them. They survived. Everyone would die in the morning, but now, it is morning, and they survived. Both Amelie and Olivier would like nothing more than to get away from this island, and never to return. Bárbara however, struggles; someone needs to stay behind, either to Keep, or to Destroy the Secret.

Chapter 1: Kijkduin

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When the chaos dies down, and they have some time to catch their breath, it dawns on them. They survived. Everyone would die in the morning, but now, it is morning, and they survived. Then they have some more time, and another realisation sets in. Not all of them survived. The glow of the electric, purple veins crackling all over Amelie’s body dim. The creature, who just a little bit ago had been aiming to destroy them. Now lays on the ground, nothing more than a particularly large puddle of reddish brown goop.

Clinging to her brother, giving him as much comfort as she could give, and taking all she that could get, Amelie glances inside the church. Ten. That is the amount of people that died in there. Ten people they couldn’t save. Among them, her friend Bárbara, and her friend Milo, as well as Miguel, and the tiny body of Amora. Amelie takes a deep breath, and steels herself. Slowly, she lets go of Olivier. Not fully! God no. Just enough to look around. Amelie takes his hand, gives it a firm squeeze and stands up, guiding him along with her. Olivier may be an adult, but he is still her little brother, she will take care of him.

They had directed everyone to go to Navia’s house, and as they are about to turn their back to the church and walk there as well, Amelie takes one last look at the church. Wait.. No.. It can’t be? Can it? Abruptly she turns around and runs inside, clumsily dragging Olivier behind her. When they near, she’s certain. She saw movement! Not from the horrid creature, no. From behind it. Bárbara’s body stirs, then groans, and then finally, slowly, moves to sit up. She is unsteady and almost falls over again, but Amelie quickly drops down to catch her by her shoulders. With Bárbera safely squished between them, they now actually, fully start making their way to Navia’s.

The first few minutes after are a bit of a blur. The siblings greet their mom, they try to get Navia to help Bárbera (though, there is not much she can do about paint), they watch in agony as Adrian comes over with his daughter’s dead body clutched tightly to his chest. Eventually they remember that The Ordo, whoever they are, would be on their way, and direct everyone to the beach. Somewhere in between they also went back to the mansion to pick up their dad, although neither of them were particularly happy to do so. On the beach they meet the two agents, who introduce themselves and ask them to consider joining. It is too much, all of it. They are exhausted, and whatever is being said barely registers. Apparently they want everyone to get on Adrian’s boat while they sweep the island, and then they want everyone to leave. Absolutely not a problem!

Both Amelie and Olivier would like nothing more than to get away, and never to return. But when they try to board, Bárbera stribbles back. This is her island. She grew up here. It is all she knows. Furthermore, what if the agents, in their sweep, discover more secrets? If, if, she were to leave the island, she would only do so knowing every single thing there is to know. And she doesn't yet. At the very least she should join the agents in their route!

Perplexed, but not willing to argue with this poor girl, drenched in blood and clearly in distress, they let her. She only has to promise to stay between the two of them, and to do exactly as they say. And, to run at the first sign of danger. Bárbara agrees without hesitation. She agrees, but she does not do what is asked. When they arrive back at the church, and the agents tell her to stay outside and out of trouble while they investigate, she sees one of the bodies stir. Before either of them could react, with a coldness that the agents have not seen in anyone, swiftly walks up to it and stabs it through its heart.

There is something methodical to her, as she helps them carry the bodies outside to burn. Not the blank nothingness of someone broken by their experiences. Something else. Neither of the agents quite manage to place it yet. Though they both know what it is like to lose people, or even, to lose your entire family or everyone you grew up with, this reaction is new. That is, until they get to the body of a boy. He seems to be around her age, curly hair with coveralls over a large blue jumper, no shoes. She doesn’t cry, but she seems to be gentler with this body. As he is laid down next to the others she adjusts his head, to lay more naturally. She brushes the hair out of the hole where the rest of his face must have been. The agents turn away to give her some sense of privacy, in which she can say her goodbyes. And if afterwards, if she is now wearing a locket they’re quite sure she was not wearing before, they won’t say anything.

As the modest pile of bodies burns behind them (8, there are 8 bodies. 9 people in total that died because they were too late The owner of the boat had been clutching the body of a small girl, but did not want her to be burned with the rest of them. Instead promising that, while they were making their round, he would burn her on the beach). They make their way to the mansion at the top of the hill. The girl with them, Bárbara, grows even more distant. The tenderness she displayed towards that boy all gone, just that coldness is left. The group makes their way through the mansion quite quickly, the agents taking note of the half transformed blood zombie, looking suspiciously similar to the girl in their companionship. She herself only taking a few seconds to glance at the body, before averting her eyes. Eventually they find a passage behind the large painting in the stairway, leading down into a cavern.

If they bothered to look for it, the agents could have seen a faint glimmer in Bárbara’s eyes; so there were secrets left to discover! That spark was quickly snuffed out though when they reached the actual cave. She didn’t care for the bell, or for the door, nor even really for that painting. What she did care for is that the paint, the source of all this despair, the source of every single trouble on this island, originated from here. Bárbera took one look at this source, this spring of paint and made her decision: She would not, under any circumstance, leave this island until she could be sure that it would never, ever, hurt anybody, ever again!

next>

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Notes: I wrote this instead of studying (。・∀・)ノ

or sleeping╯︿╰

This is the lighthouse where this chapter takes its name from, isn't it pretty?

Image source: https://www.vuurtorens.org/wp-content/uploads/2017/11/Kijkduin-groot.jpg

[thechekhov]

Hi! I'm working as a teacher for the first time this fall, and I'd like to ask you: in your experience, how do you go about working as a teacher and also finding time for your wips like the SU comic? And do you have any tips for someone who has zero experience working with kids (13-15 y/o)? Thanks in advance, and have a nice day!!

I think everyone's experience with this will be different - based on where you're teaching, what subject you're teaching, whether you'll actually be the main-teacher immediately or if you're simply observing class at first/assisting and how much guidance you'll get from actual experience teachers, etc..... but my biggest advice may be a bit counterintuitive:

Don't try to find time. Just wait for time to find you.

I think people often assume they have more time than they actually do. Teaching is pretty time-consuming, but it's also INCREDIBLY energy-consuming. It's difficult not only because of the hours, but also because it physically and mentally drains you more than, say, an office job would. You have to be On all the time as a teacher - you have to be watching the students, paying attention to what they're saying, paying attention to what YOU'RE saying, paying attention to the schedule, paying attention to the lesson, etc. It's a lot of brainwork!

Regardless of your level of experience, you're going to be coming home WAY too tired to do anything but lay down. That's going to be the bulk of your evenings.

Contrary to what it seems like, when I first started teaching, I also did that for the first 4-7 months. I didn't draw - I didn't have the energy or time to. I came home, I collapsed, I got up to make dinner, and then I spaced out. Sometimes I got dragged out by friends for social activities. I drew only on the weekends, IF I felt like it.

Eventually, though, I trampled down my schedule into something workable. I started drawing regularly because my body and brain got used to the daily strain and became stronger. (That's something that's less known about brains, I think... you have to train yourself to be able to handle that sort of mental stress over time. It's like endurance training.)

Also. And I need to make this clear:

At the time when I was drawing THE MOST and posting REALLY OFTEN (daily for @ask-whitepearl-and-steven) I was already living with my partner. About 3 years in, we were in the same apartment together and he helped out a TON with laundry and cooking. That made a huge difference. I had support on basic tasks which would have eaten into my time even more.

What I'm saying is - having time for hobbies is great. But you need to make sure you're not cutting off pieces of yourself, or your sanity, in order to make that happen. Try to be kind and give yourself time to adjust.

As for the advice about kids/teens:

They're people with complicated lives outside of you/the school. If they don't immediately respond to you, don't take it personally.

They're people who haven't yet learned total emotional regulation - try to be kind about how grumpy/angry/moody/anxious they often are. Try to react like you would to an adult.

They're only people. Be kind to them.

They're full on people. Don't let them get away with being cruel to you or others. They CAN understand at that age that they hurt others. If they make a rude joke, don't laugh awkwardly - a good stare can go a long way.

Good luck!

[sashiavi]

Bear Shane insisting on cuddle time every day... He doesn't appreciate someone interrupting his time with you, this old man needs his naps

BearHybrid!Shane has my heart ♡

This might have gotten out of hand- this man consumes my brain and I went o f f on a tangent - hopefully it's legible :')

Warnings : Pure Fluff | smut writer attempts fluff | BearHybrid!Shane | this could be bad- | cuddling | alludes to sex occurring - aftercare |

additional message : 18+ minors please do not follow - my blog is not a safe space for minors - thank you ♡

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Bear Shane is so soft - Literally - His body just made for big, warm, squeezing hugs. Bear Shane has filled out a little with age - and with other habits he'd cut out - Body still strong enough to lift haybales and chop hefty chunks of firewood, tough muscle hidden behind a man who eats and treats himself well.

Cuddling with him is always a treat, sweeter than molasses - and he can't keep himself off of you - You wonder if your heart beats so hard and fast from love- or if you're having a sugar rush from the deep syrupy way he whispers confessions into your ear.

"Lovin' you so much, Doll.." His voice is low, grumbling, tinged in a soft drawl unique to The Valley. Bear Shane paws over your skin in rhythmic caresses, a little clumsy with a heavy hand, and yet still sending soft shivers down your spine and to your toes never the less.

One way or another, you're always in Bear Shane's arms, in his lap, laying on his chest, always touching him in some form.

Bear Shane nestles you in his lap, reclined and relaxed in an arm chair, hand feeding you snacks you prepared together earlier while the Gridball game drones on the television. He mocks an aeroplane with a pepper popper, playfully popping it in your mouth. His thumb comes up to wipe a stray stain off sauce off of the corner of your mouth - and he licks it up with a smack of his lips. He can't help but chuckle at the face you give him, all too cute and scrunched up with faux disgust. His smile is goofy, nose nuzzling against your own, foreheads pressed together for just a moment, a sloppy wet kiss pressed to your cheek just to get another silly reaction out of you. His bear ears twitch and wiggle, following the teasing and goofy smile plastered on his face.

The hours after Bear Shane sends you into pure syrup sweet bliss in the bedroom are always the softest. After a wash and dry of your bodies, feeling soft and clean, back bundled up under the cool sheets of your bed. Bear Shane beckons you to him, big arms outstretched for you to fall into. He lays on his back, holding you to his body, watching your head rise and fall with his breathing. You can't help it- laying on his chest. Swollen pecs built from muscle and fat, skin warm, decorated in a decent sheen of dark hair- and his heart, pumping behind his ribcage, thumbing in your ear as you nuzzle and kiss him.

Yoba, the twinkle in your eye makes the moment all the more golden- glazed and sleepy dazzled in the soft lamp light, carefully brightening the room from the bedside table. You were warm, so warm on his skin, eyes warm for him, bathed in a room of warm golden light, kissed sweet in a honey glaze.

"Yer' my Sunshine," His voice is low, rasped with exhaustion and a huff of amusement, purposely saying such corny things to make your nose wrinkle for him to kiss.

Bear Shane is big on his afternoon naps. The man was tired from doing his duty on the farm; Tending to the chickens, tidying their coop with utmost care. Harvesting the tree tappers for maple syrup, trying is very best to resist just a little teeny taste of the forbidden nectre - lest you scold him for it. Last time he looked like a kicked baby cub, ears droopy, lips pouted, his teddy bear eyes eventually got him out of it. Poor Bear Shane dregs himself inside, gobbling up his afternoon lunch with you, wiping off a stray stain of muck and soot off of your cheek with a wet cloth while you wash up the dishes.

Exhaustion lays thick in his bones, he practically has to man-handle you from running out the door, coddling you up in a big bear hug. It's all giggles and smooches though, as he drags the both of you to the lounge or the bed, wrapping his thick arms around your torso and stuffing his face in the back of your neck. He can't help but place a big, wet kiss on your skin, his prickly stubble scrapping gently over the spot. His laugh is goofy, arms squeezing you tight for just a moment when you whine and visibly shiver at the sensitive tickling.

His bear ear flicks when the sound of the farm house door rasps with a knock. His thick brows furrow, lips coming to a town turned frown, exasperated when you shift to leave. He cooes a dramatic 'noooo', arms caging you in comically, rolling over, dragging you with him while you giggle and fein protest.

When you finally answer the door, the poor visitor jumps in surprise when they find a sleepy Bear Shane hanging over your shoulder, chin tucked against your neck, honey brown eyes glaring up at the intruder.

"Whadaya' want.." He grumbles, earning a soft smack on his hip. When the visitor states their business Bear Shane blissfully ignores them, using their boring droning voice to slowly doze back into your neck. He breathes in deep, savouring the subtle twinge of sweetness coming off of your skin- maybe your honey milk soap, or the pretty vanilla perfume you put on thay day- whatever it was it was golden behind his eyes, melting his heart down into syrup- strong enough to flavour anything in your life with his love.

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Was this corny? It feels corny- confession: it's been probably 8 years since I have written just fluff- go easy on me ♡ and pls lmk how I could improve if I can!

shane my love, my mess, my chunkins- my heart blooms for him~

My inbox is very very full right now- thank you for all the wonderful ideas :)) I will do my best to catch up on them ♡

Bear Shane is May-pal serrup coded

[sc0tters]

Addicted | Luke Hughes

summary: when Alex and Trevor decide to voice their feelings about you it causing Luke to reevaluate his own.

song: Kiss Me - Ed Sheeran

request: yes/no

warnings: mention of underaged drinking, slight bit of swearing.

word count: 2.03k

authors note: this song has been calling my name since I put it on the playlist, and let me just saw that I’m not upset in the slightest. This picture of Luke made me laugh so much that I had to put it in. If you want to check out the rest of the celly you can do so here!

Luke had been in love with you for years.

Thoughts of you consumed his mind from the moment he woke up until the moment he went to sleep. His heart rate would increase and his palms would grow sweaty as he watched you run across campus before you’d tackle him into a bear hug even though you saw him the day before. Every time you were in a more revealing outfit he’d stumble on his words like he had never spoken English before. Every year it was like half of his brain cells never made it to the lake house as all he could do was watch in awe as you’d walk around in shorts and your bikini tops.

But it was fine because you felt the same way as Luke.

The first time you realised this was after a ballet recital of yours when you were six and somehow Ellen convinced all three of her sons to come and Luke said that your tutu was pretty on you.

It like your whole world combusted in that moment as your semi toothless grin joined the conversation “you think so pookie?”

“I know so sparky.” Luke was never one to shy away from complimenting you and it made you swear he only did it to screw with you. The way your cheeks turned crimson red as you’d chew as the inside of your cheeks trying to hold in the inevitable squeal of joy at the compliment.

All of the scales seemed to increase when you went off to college, your friendship grew stronger as you remained his number one supporter, your love for him grew deeper as his eyes never left you at parties because other girls were never what he wanted. Clearly since everyone else could see this you would should have as well, right?

Wrong.

Totally absolutely positively wrong.

His love for you could have been written in big pieces of card in front of your face and it might as well have been like you were reading another language because you wouldn’t have believed it. The same thing went for Luke, every guy you turned down never made him feel more confident. In fact it usually made him feel worse.

You had the most athletic players flirting with you, the start football and baseball players all weren’t good enough for you. So what was to say that some hockey player would be what you wanted?

Luke was usually a confident man, he got that from being around Jack that it became a learnt trait. Yet you seemed to make him feel like a normal kid again. There was no need for the title of being drafted, or for his family name. To you he was just Luke or your pookie and it slowly ate up at him.

Just like every other year July meant it was lake house time. It was the third day of the trip and it was hotter than ever, literally the sun was scorching and you were out soaking it all up. Your bikini was the smallest one in your closet and it avoid the tan lines your top string was undone as your stomach lay on your towel.

Luke had been enjoying the sight he really was, your feet occasionally bounced as you had your favourite songs blaring through your AirPods and it was a sight that made his mouth water.

But when Trevor and Alex walked back in from the porch and started talking about you it caused the youngest Hughes boys mood to turn for the worse.

Trevor shook his head as he grabbed a drink from the fridge “I don’t know how you haven’t made a move yet Hughesy,” he confessed as he cracked the cap of the bottle open.

Alex nodded in agreement “huh?” Luke furrowed his eyebrows as he knew that they were talking about you.

The Ducks player smiled “y/n is out of this world,” he pointed out as none of the older boys were stupid, you were a pretty girl and they all knew it.

Except Trevor was the only one who ever let you know about it, the constant flirting that came from his lips during this lake house trip. It seemed you being over the age of eighteen let you move away from the title of only being Luke’s friend.

Words of warning wanting to tell Trevor to fuck off were desperate to leave Luke’s mouth yet they couldn’t as you walked into the living room.

An oblivious smile formed on your face “what are y’all talking about?” You asked as you reached into the fridge to grab the container of cut up mango that you had made earlier that morning.

Trevor let his outstretched hand reach into the container as he took a piece “just about going for a ride on the boat later,” he lied as his eyes never left your mouth as some of the fruit juice dribbled down your chin landing on your bikini top “hope there is room for me on that boat,” there always was room for you but you were enjoying flirting with Trevor.

Sure you weren’t attracted to him like that but he certainly wasn’t harsh on your eyes “for you sparky? Always.” The nickname was one that you had picked up when you were five, you learnt what electric currents were when you found two wires in Quinn’s room and decided to place them together. The eldest Hughes couldn’t help but laugh when he walked in to see how your eyes lit up like you were in a candy store.

Luke scrunched his nose at the smile you sent the ducks player as you continued you eat your mango but when you pushed your hair behind your ears letting your chest now be on full display the Hughes boy could no longer take it “put this on,” he mumbled as he held out his baseball jersey.

You furrowed your eyebrows as you looked white fabric “okay?” You shrugged as you took the Tigers home jersey and slotted your arms into it.

But that didn’t seem to be enough for Luke as he came over to you and began to button the buttons up “Luke!” You groaned saying exactly what Alex and Trevor were thinking as they sent the boy a glare “perfect,” Luke smiled as he softly pulled your hair out of the jersey letting it lay flat behind your back.

His dagger eyes were sent to both Alex and Trevor the entire day, even on the boat when Quinn was teaching you to drive it and even when you were on Luke’s lap.

“Am I missing something?”

Your question pulled Luke out of his thoughts as he looked at you “what?” He asked as he let his fingers draw over your leg.

It irritated you as you could see that something seemed to be going on between Luke and the two older boys “you seem mad at them,” you sighed as your lips formed into a pout.

Sure it might have been childish to be upset but Luke usually told you everything “it’s nothing,” he shook his head causing your fingers to grip at your can of seltzer.

Yet your pokes didn’t go quiet like he’d hoped “Luke-” your soft words were only met with a glare “just drop it okay?” His complaint was only met with your wide eyes.

Thankfully at that time you were in need of a new drink. So you got up to get yourself a refill.

The boys watched in amusement as you walked back into the house “you really fucked that one up Lukey,” Trevor teased only adding to the boys anger.

Luke clenched his fist “you need to shut the fuck up dude!” He warned as he got up as he pointed his finger at the older boy.

It seemed like this was all bubbling up over today “just go ahead all to her,” Quinn’s voice was soft as he knew that you were on his brothers mind.

The youngest Hughes boy took a large gulp as he remembered that he had lashed out at you first.

Your head remained in the fridge as you looked at the different options for drinks.

The cool air on your face made you grow calm. It was soothing as you tried to not cry, you knew you were overreacting but all of Luke’s actions today seemed to weigh up on you in this never ending battle that you had created based on the feelings you felt towards the boy. Your thoughts were pulled away from your brain as the sound of the glass sliding door shut.

You turned around and was already faced with Luke “Jesus Christ!” You cursed as you clenched your chest.

Luke’s face softened as he looked at you “sorry,” he apologised as he crossed his arms.

He wanted to reach out to hug you “why are you so mad at them?” You asked as you watched the hockey player pick at the bracelet on his wrist.

All of the explanations that went through his mind all didn’t sound valid “it’s stupid,” that was the honest truth, he knew he was over reacting but that didn’t make it any less irritating to deal with.

You scoffed as you sat on the counter “that never stopped you from telling me,” you pointed out as most nights were spent with Luke in your bed laying his bed on your chest as you combed your fingers through his hair.

The way your lips were plump and your cheeks were tinted with a hint of red from the sun that had landed on in them made you look so very kissable.

But Luke remained stood where he was “they think you’re hot,” he explained with his voice barely a whisper as though he was ashamed to admit to it.

Your laugh made him feel better “do they now?” It was a clear stroke to your ego as you watched the boy grow embarrassed.

It shouldn’t have been nearly as amusing as it was “you thinking I’ve got a new best friend to get?” You joked causing him to furrow his eyebrows with annoyance.

Luke situated himself between your legs “‘ts not funny,” he mumbled as he rested his head on your shoulder.

A smile found its way onto your face “it’s pretty funny,” you nodded as you hooked your fingers under his jaw forcing him to look at you.

Your eyes were soft as they studied every feature on his face as though it was the first time you’d seen his face “it doesn’t matter if they think I’m hot,” you explained as you watched his face grow confused “only matter if it comes from a guy who hasn’t even said it.” You added as your tongue darted between your lips.

The hockey remained as clueless as ever when you let your thumb run along his jaw “who?” He was almost asking because he needed to finally hear that dose of reality of who it was that went through you mind in the way you went through his.

A moment of silence was heard so loud that a penny dropping wouldn’t even be noticed “looking right at him.” You confessed causing his eyes to widen.

It was like he was at a crossroads as the ball was now in his court. Truly nothing went through his mind as he was desperate to find the right course of action. The girl he had loved for all of these years, the girl he had longed for to be more than just friends, the girl was you and here you were with all of your cards out waiting for him.

Yet there he was frozen in time.

Again it seemed like it was your turn once more. So you leaned forward as you kissed him, it was brain meltingly perfect. Like that moment you do something that feels so good it makes your brain all hazy, like that.

Luke pulled away with his smile as his finger ran over your lips “what’s got you all smiley?” You asked as you cocked your head.

“I got the girl of my dreams.”

[sativaonsaturn]

the signs in love (songs for the signs pt.2)

(check venus, moon, mars, lilith, juno!)

aries/ 1st house (a steadfast love): Love On the Brain by Rihanna (who has an aries venus)

“So you can put me together/ And throw me against the wall”

“baby I'm fist fighting with fire/ Just to get close to you”

“Don't you stop loving me/ Don't quit loving me”

taurus/ 2nd house (a strong, steady love): Real Woman by PartyNextDoor (who has a taurus venus)

“Give her what she want/ Give me just what I want”

“Last night, we were sippin' Henny and now we doin' deals”

“I'm lockin' it in 'til the very end”

“Shawty met a boss like me and put a hundred down on a condo downtown with me”

gemini/ 3rd house (an expressive, exciting love): Houdini by Dua Lipa (whose lilith is in gemini)

“I come and I go/ Tell me all the ways you need me/ I'm not here for long”

“If you're good enough, you'll find a way/ Maybe you could cause a girl to change”

“Everything you say is soundin' so sweet/ But do you practise everything that you preach?”

cancer/ 4th house (a warm, comforting love): Every Kind of Way by HER (who has a cancer venus)

“You're here with me/ Boy, it don't get no better than you”

“I wanna love you in every kind of way/ I wanna please you, no matter how long it takes”

“If the world should end tomorrow and we only have today/ I'm gonna love you in every kind of way”

leo/ 5th house (a passionate love): Part II (On the Run) by Jay Z & Beyoncé (her w/ a leo mars)

“I don't care if we on the run/ Baby, 'long as I'm next to you”

“And if loving you is a crime/ Tell me why do I bring out the best in you?”

“I don't care if they give me life, I get all of my life from you/ And if loving you had a price I would pay my life for you”

virgo/ 6th house (a considerate love): My Love Mine All Mine by Mitski (who has a virgo venus)

“Moon, tell me if I could send up my heart to you/ So, when I die, which I must do could it shine down here with you?”

“My baby, here on earth/ Showed me what my heart was worth”

“Nothing in the world is mine for free/ But my love mine, all mine, all mine”

libra/ 7th house (a storybook love): Adorn by Miguel (who has a libra mars)

“Just let my love adorn you”

“Baby, these fists will always protect ya”

“Whole world's in your eyes (when I look in your eyes, baby)”

scorpio/ 8th house (an all-consuming love): Work Song by Hozier (his scorpio lilith in 8th reminds me of this)

“No grave can hold my body down, I’ll crawl home to her”

“But I swear I thought I dreamed her/ She never asked me once about the wrong I did”

“If the Lord don’t forgive me, I’d still have my baby and my babe would have me”

sagittarius/ 9th house (a thrilling love): Lowkey by Teyana Taylor (whose venus is in sag)

“If I let you, would you make a move?”

“I want it but this ain't the right time/ But, damnit, you're so fine”

“Runnin' and runnin', ain't runnin' from love/ I'm so willin' to give it a try”

capricorn/ 10th house (a serious love): You Don’t Know My Name by Alicia Keys (who has a capricorn venus)

“There's something special 'bout you, I must really like you/ 'Cause not a lotta guys are worth my time”

“I see us on our first date/ You're doin' everything that makes me smile”

“Doin' more than I've ever done for anyone's attention/ Take notice of what's in front of you”

aquarius/ 11th house (a rebellious/ unconventional love): Take Me to Church by Hozier (who has an aquarius venus)

“My lover’s got humor/ She’s the giggle at a funeral”

“Knows everybody’s disapproval/ Should’ve worshipped her sooner”

“We were born sick, heard them say it/ I was born sick but I love it”

“If I’m a pagan of the good times/ My lover’s the sunlight”

pisces/12th house (a longing love): Blessed by Daniel Caesar (who has a pisces venus)

“I don’t wanna be there, don’t wanna be anywhere/ Anyplace that I can’t feel you, I just wanna be near you”

“Sometimes it gets unhealthy/ We can’t be by ourselves, we will always need each other”

“When I go, I don’t stay gone for long”

bonus:

venus in 4th (a committed love): positions by Ariana Grande (who is a cancer sun)

“Boy, I’m tryna meet your mama on a Sunday”

“Switchin the positions for you/ I’m in the Olympics way I’m jumping through hoops”

“Know my love infinite, nothing I wouldn’t do”

sativaonsaturn 🍃🪐

[maximumkillshot]

Home

Warnings: There are a lot with this one and it hits close to home. Mentions of S/A. The R word is used, sobbing, anxiety and mental episode. mentions of self harm, mentions victim blaming and slut shaming. MDNI. There is fluff spattered around.

Pairing: BangChanxReader

Characters: Bang Chan, Reader, mention of the person who S/A, people Slut Shaming and Victim Blaming. 

A/N:  Okay so this one is heavy. The things you are about to read have happened to me. I had a mental episode a while back. I wrote most of this during said episode. This is what I think Chan would do for his S/O if they went through and go through what I did. This blog has always been a safe space. I use my fictions to entertain as well as a platform to have safe conversations. If you need me as always I will hang around after drop.

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“YN?” Your husband called out to you. You couldn't hear him from the pressure of today. It created a seething pool of frustration and anger as you kneeled at the foot of the bed, wanting to pray, but now that you think about it the pain of being on the floor was a sweet torture in and of itself. 

Usually, anger like this wouldn't be a problem for you. You would go down to the basement and punch granite with your poorly taped hands, yes you were only a kid then, not knowing how else to get the anger out only stopping when you'd hear a crunch. Yes, that was the start of negative coping mechanisms, and yes you are trying to either bury that anger or let it consume you fast before Chris gets home. He's dealt with enough, we don't need to add on to it.  

Now you're no longer a child… as a matter of fact, you are now an adult, an adult with a hairpin trigger vaguely yet expertly disguised as comedic sarcasm. Depression that you don't remember not having… maybe when you were 8? You weren't sure. Not to mention a cast made of a myriad of physical and mental health issues…. Disabilities… and the cast of characters just keep growing! You have the medicine and the “coping techniques”, they called it, for success! Even those fail. 

Trying to talk it out just made you more angry, the injustice looking more and more ludicrous by the second. Okay, let's try breathing. Yeah no. That didn't work either, it just gave your brain more oxygen, so your brain went from quantum computer speed to Sonic the fucking Hedgehog. Oh… ok oh oh! Let's try soundboarding. You know, talk to people, not yourself. That ended in yet another game of useless catch phrases like “calm down” and “you shouldn't be thinking of that.” 

TELL ME SOMETHING I DON'T FUCKING KNOW THANK YOU! Oh, and I almost forgot the “Your method of thought isn't changing because you don't want to change '' DO YOU THINK I AM POKED ALL DAY AND SAY TO MYSELF…

‘OH I WANT TO FEEL MORE LIKE SHIT… I KNOW LET ME RUN MY FACE INTO A BRICK WALL OF ANXIETY REPEATEDLY UNTIL I CAN'T CONTROL MYSELF ANYMORE.’

You reverted to hurting the people around you due to your anger and frustration, plus you darkened the mood, you've always been a multitasker. My friends were right. I'm depressing, I was only kept around because of my ex. That was before they kicked me out… because they didn't want to believe he assaulted me. You go back to that night often… 

“I didn’t want to do that, I felt icky” You told him after he came back from cleaning himself up in the bathroom, while you were left to clean the traces of himself from your own mouth. No aftercare, no thought about you. The ghost of a boy who used you, who was an on and off friend of almost 10 years…

“I know.” he answered with no emotion.

“Then… why?” You asked, your head cocked to the side.

“Because I really wanted it.” He puts his hand on your shoulder, “But I’m sorry you feel that way. Shit now I feel bad.”

Then it switched to those friends, on another night… “ I just don’t buy it. That DID NOT HAPPEN, I know him better than you.”

“I mean you did it anyway so you must’ve wanted it.”

You tried to explain that you were assaulted, it’s called coercive consent and it’s the most common form of assault. You were raped. You didn’t want to do it and he knew that but you wanted to make him happy. You tried to explain, to educate. They weren’t having it.This conversation at times whirls in your head. Making you itch to pull a trigger, do something to make the torture stop.

“You always overreact and you’re so annoying why don’t you just go the fuck away!”

“You’re so depressing just fucking go away! We only tolerated you because you are his girlfriend, just go the fuck away!” The intent in her voice. The reality. You trusted her most out of the entire group. She helped you emotionally… Now shaming you, blaming you.

Her boyfriend rendered you speachless when you called it what it was, it was rape via coercive consent:

“Oh I get the kind of person you are, you’re the type of person who gets felt up in the middle of the night by their significant other because they’re trying to get laid and you call it rape.”

You know the right method to take now, right… Yeah you do.

Isolate… process… torture yourself…cry… alone. Contain the monster, so it doesn't hurt anyone else… You're just a monster parading as a human. Don't forget it. This happens when you forget Y/N… stop being reckless. Always so fucking reckless… 

You started clenching your hands one over the other, wanting to rake the top of your hands until they bled, trying to ground yourself. Until subconsciously, you did. You rocked as you did it, trying to soothe yourself.

Sometimes you swear people don't see you drowning right in front of their fucking eyes. You know how to swim, you know how to get out, to scream, punch, fight. You want to swim, you really do. But you can only do so much in a rip current. The lifeguard sees you. But instead of helping they yell “PADDLE! JUST PADDLE YOU'LL BE FINE!” It's a different level of patronization. It just makes you want to let the tides swallow you. Because why fight when the waters are so warm?

“Y/N?!” Chris yelled as he saw your bag tossed haphazardly on the couch, never where you put it. He stopped and listened carefully. He thought back to the last text you sent him. “Shit hit the fan at work …I don't want to feel right now. I'll see you at home.” 

That middle sentence made his heart stop. He knows you… something was up. He tried texting you back, sending words of encouragement, calling, and leaving cute messages when you didn't pick up, and nothing was heard from you. As soon as he could get away from schedules he did. When he looked at the clock you had sent that message three hours beforehand, he never raced home faster. 

He knows what your mind does to you. He sees the battles every day. When he’d compliment you and you would look down, not shy, but contradictory. When he’d pick you up you would freeze and he’d remind you that you aren’t too heavy, that he loves you in every single way that you think is impossible to love you. He’d always encourage you to wear what you want, do what you want. He would caress every single curve, never being able to keep his hands off of you. Whispering into your ear in public as he tilts your head up gently after asking for permission. He’d kiss you so delicately in front of a sea of people. On the red carpet, on stage, it didn’t matter. You were and are his person, and he loved showing you off. He couldn’t win the war in your mind for you, but he damn sure would fight those battles with you.

He would fight away those negative thoughts, he’d wrap his arms around you and sing to you to will those images, the anxiety and fear away. Until those thoughts were rendered useless. He’d wrestle with them for control, as soon as he won your mind back he gave it to you. He reminded you that you are here with him for a reason. He adores you, and nothing would change that. 

It was something he promised you when he saw you breakdown while doing your medicines. You told him that you were ashamed of it all. All the illnesses, that you weren’t perfect and that you’d understand if he didn’t want you. He looked at you and helped with your medicines, learned about each of them, and their dosages. He was so gentle, smiling at you, wiping your tears. He looked at all the medicines and said, anything that keeps you alive is nothing to be ashamed of. You aren’t something to be ashamed of. He knows that sometimes you can’t hear him until he’s right in your ear. Now looked like that case.

You couldn't hear him calling out to you, your mind too loud, too vicious, bloodthirsty. When pain and self-deprecation are your main moods, all others seem like an abnormal concept. Something that is stolen, was it even real in the first place? You know one thing that was real… Chris. You hated being this… the medications, the constant fires in your mind, the barrage of hate aimed at yourself, of unbridled strength turned inward to rip yourself apart for no reason other than things piling up. He didn't deserve that. He deserves peace, the best… just like what he demands of himself, perfection. 

You got through the gauntlet at your job. People undermining your authority, people on a power trip of their own. Sending others to try to intimidate, embarrass you into submission… as if you weren't a bloodthirsty wolf that could snap any second, biting their heads clean off. “An Alpha through and through,” that's what Chris would say, “Even Alphas have to bite their tongue, Love.” 

That made you cry more because at this point you don't even know if your tongue is still existent, or if you swallowed the damn thing after you bit it off. Or worse… you still have it… but you lost your voice. You know that can't be it, we're too fucking stubborn for that.

But the hits didn't stop coming, traffic happened, then going to the doctor who said that the physical therapy you needed would eat into your personal time, your time to write, to cook for Channie and the boys, to spend time with Channie and the boys.. then you forgot the doctors note so you had to walk back in for it. Then you had to go home while you tried to talk about everything… and well now here we are. 

Even now you try to problem solve, try to nitpick at yourself, the person he loves so much. You collapsed more on the floor of your shared bedroom, cross-legged thinking of the ocean, the violent, dangerous, tumultuous ocean… something simultaneously so beautiful and scary. You want to say you are like an ocean, but you don't see beauty in yourself, only a beast. That's all we'll ever be.

Chris freezes in the hallway hearing a sob break loose from you. He hadn't heard a sob like that before, it chilled his core. How does he approach this? He sees the doctor's note thrown next to your purse… He was happy you were approved for physical therapy, you really were in a lot of pain daily from the muscle and tendon weakness, but he looked at the times…

He looked to the hallway, “Oh…Baby Girl.” He had one piece of the puzzle. He knew you loved to cook for him and the boys but this schedule meant you couldn't do that for the foreseeable future. You enjoyed seeing the boys eating, and staying fueled, knowing without that they'd opt for less healthy options. Then he saw the paper right under it. A typed log… a leger of interactions throughout your day… “No…” 

Right there, in black and white, was what you went through today, everything down to the sarcastic smirk your coworker had as you were barraged with pressure to break the rules… and you didn't break. He never would've expected you to. You are the strongest person he knows. Even under these conditions, Chris himself would break. In front of fifty plus people being berated, pushed to do something you knew you couldn’t do. 

Right at the end of it was a line, written in plain ink by hand. “Vacation not given as described by supervisor. No week off.” With tear stains smudging the ink. 

Chris started walking down the hall to the shared bedroom. As he walked closer he heard you mumbling as you sobbed. Things like “stop crying” and “it's nothing.” But one made him freeze right before he opened the door, “Chris is going to worry. You already take too much from him, get it together so he won't worry. It’ll hurt him. Stop hurting the people you love. You’re a monster.”

That made his eyes sting, you were worried about him above all else. He slowly opened the door and you couldn't find it in you to look up. You knew who it was. The aura you know and love, like salve on the holes you ripped into yourself. The small steps were only weighed down by his sneakers as he slowly spoke. 

“Hey…Baby Girl?” The tone was even more soothing. We don't deserve that. “Can you look at me please?” You just shook your head. Too embarrassed at the shambling mess you are. The real you that you hide. 

Before you knew it you saw two big hands undoing the laces on his sneakers, shortly after he toed them off. Slowly he sat in front of you groaning “Oooooookay criss-cross applesauce it is…” making you smirk as you wiped your nose with the inside of the collar of your shirt. Finally, as he settled he said “aaaaaughh” with a big puff of air… 

You just tucked your head into your chest as you hid as much as you could. He waited for a few minutes, until he said, “We can address what happened in a few minutes. But you need to know. You don't take from me.” 

Your tears kept falling as you listened, his tone calming the raging currents in your mind.

He looked at the engagement and wedding band on your left hand. He watched the tears fall, he saw the holes in you. He wanted to lunge at you, take that emotional knife away from you, smother you in affection. Hold you, his heart burned for it. Needle and thread ready to patch you up. To heal you.

 He spoke softly, “You are my everything, Y/N. You aren't a burden, a disappointment, you aren't a chore, the only thing you took from me was my heart, but you had that before I even heard your voice. The second I saw you… I gave it to you. I don't want it back either.” 

You hiccuped breaths as you listened. He scooted a little closer and he put his hands out, palm up into your vision… asking for your hands. That was when you realized you were scratching at them again. 

You unfurled them from one another, hissing where one nail was slightly deeper, the tiny droplet of blood following soon after.

He looked at your hands, humming in the back of his throat, “One second.” He didn’t want to show it, but he was worried. You feel so much and he just wants to be there to hold you, to love you. 

Then popped up and left. He came back with a first aid kit, “Oooooookay heeaarr we goar again... criss-cross.” That made you giggle the tiniest bit. Chris always loved to hear your laugh. Your laugh is infectious and it always never fails to brighten his day. He knew he was making progress.

You couldn't see it but Chris was smirking at your tiny cute form. And hearing that little giggle made him want to channel Changbin and squeal at the cuteness overload. 

“Okay my Koala Bear… hands.” When you both had started dating, he noticed you always hung on to him. You explained that he was warm and you were always frozen, especially in the colder months. You asked if it was okay for you to hold on to him like that. Internally he was trying his best not to giggle like a school boy at the prospect of you holding on to him like this naturally. He looked at you and said, “It’s no problem, you just remind me of a Koala Bear, so cute and tiny. Can I call you that? My Koala Bear?” And you nodded blushing. Since then, you’ve been his Koala Bear. 

You presented your hands to him wincing at the stretch of the new scratches and he said “So tiny… so cute. Okay tiny sting” he cleaned the bigger scratch and put a bandage on it, and checked the rest. Once he deemed it all good to have your hands back. He kissed them then returned them to your lap. “Thank you for letting me clean them.” 

You nodded and hummed. The voices slowed down. They always slowed down around him. He always was your safe place. Like home base in a baseball game. If you made it there, you’re safe. You’re home. That thought made you sad, surprisingly. How are you safe with only one person? You should have security in yourself not in someone else. Your brain was waiting to start assaulting you again. 

“Is it loud in there?” Chris asked. You've told him about all of this before, this is the first time he's seen it this bad though. The voices, memories attack you. You explained to him that sometimes your brain will do this, you try to hold it back but sometimes it just can’t be helped.

“Mhmm”

“People don't help… right?”

“mhmm”

“Can you tell me what's going on in there?”

You told him. Some.. not all. You also told him about that pesky intrusive thought about your ex and your friends. 

His body went rigid as he said, “No… they're the ones that are wrong, not you. Your ex…” He wanted to choose his words carefully. He knew that you blame yourself at times. The memory of you explaining why you were hesitant to go further when you were dating. He assured you there was no pressure. That he loved you for you, the rage boiled in him and it still does because you were never at fault for this. Especially when you trusted that asshole enough to experiment with him. He was going to be your first for everything but after what he did. The trust was gone, rightfully so.

Chris continued, “He took advantage of you, and coerced you into consent, that is not love. That is not okay? That is sexual assault. The way that your friends acted was disgusting, the way he acted was sub-human… You are not depressing, you are one of the most beautiful, talented, funny, caring, loving people I have…” his voice gave out and he cleared his throat, “You are one of the most amazing people I've ever met in my life. I love you so much and I know you feel like you're a burden on me but being with you has been the most amazing thing I've ever experienced.”

He tilted your head up and you let him, he had tears in his eyes as he said, “You have never been nor will you ever be a monster.” Your tears picked up as you looked into his eyes. You could tell, Chris doesn’t lie. He’ll tell you the truth. His tears started falling as you leaned forward, reaching for him, needing contact. When you saw him you needed his warmth, you need him to heal you. You were losing hope, faith, everything as you watched the holes in you. Seeing him holding the needle and thread. By holding you, being with you, just being himself, it heals you. You whimpered, “Need you…” As your tears switched from self-hate to desperation… you needed him and he could tell. 

He untangled his legs and scooped you up, cradling you in his arms as he rocked you petting your hair back, “You are my inspiration, my eternal love, you are the best part of my past, my present, and my future. You are the future mother to my children, the woman I'm going to grow old with, my forever and always. You are my Y/N, and I am never going to let you forget who you are and why I love you, okay?” He started crying, shielding you in his chest, protecting you. Stitching you together as you heard his heartbeat. You cried on him, relieved that you were with him.

You pulled back from him nodding. He tried to kiss your lips but you said “I'm all snotty” and he giggled. Leave it to you to be worried about snotty kisses. You looked so adorable, cheeks and nose red, nose running, tears stopping, the twinkle coming back into your eyes as he looked at you. 

“Are you denying me my snotty kisses?” He giggled as he said “Okay fine. There's no snot on your forehead” he pecked your forehead, “none on your cheeks”, and laid another peck, this pattern continued for any expanse of skin he could get his lips on as you giggled at him and his barrage of affection. When he stopped he wiped your nose with his sleeve and he kissed you gently on the lips. He savored moments like this, being able to heal you, to pick you up. He looked into your eyes as he said, “now I am thinking I’ll draw up a bath for us and I’ll give you a nice massage. After that we order take away, from your favorite place, then we watch something, Hm?” He looked at you for an answer as he kept wiping tears.

You nodded and gently, he placed you back where you were and went to get the bath ready. You'll always have hard days, but those days turn into amazing nights with Chris. Your home.

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LIKE MY WRITING? WANT MORE? Tell me so! Want in on the tags?? Shoot me an ask and consider it done!

[babyseraphim]

BABYSERAPHIM’S DBDA MASTERPOST

so, the show's been cancelled, i know. but if they're not gonna make any more content, then by god, i'm gonna fucking do it myself.

~

Fanfics

Fic recs

my healing needed more than time

Chapters: 5/? Word count: 22.4k

After tangling with the spirit of a mad scientist, Edwin is left with a seven-year-old Charles that has no memory of him or their afterlife together. Edwin learns about Charles’s childhood in steps, as Charles finds his way back to the family he’s built by working through the trauma of his past.

~

dye it all, rosary

Chapters: 2/3 Word count: 9.2k

Edwin doesn't understand how trauma works. He and Charles learn the hard way. (A fic based on the long-lasting consequences of the Lust circles of Hell on Edwin's psyche)

~

I'm So Aces at Babysitting

Chapters: 2/2 Word count: 3.7k

Edwin babysits little Charles, and Charles babysits little Edwin. They go to the planetarium and the skate park, respectively.

~

foolish flame

Chapters: 1/1 Word count: 5.6k

Orb-based will-o'-the-wisp mythology case fic written for Painland Week. Charles finds out what it's like to be the brains for a day, and Edwin is enraptured by his partner's endless talents. They kiss about it.

Overloaded

Chapter: 3/3 Word count: 9.1k

The aftermath of being used as a witch's magical battery has left Edwin's spectral body wracked with daily pain. Despite Crystal's protests, he does not think that Charles needs to know.

By Lantern’s Light

Chapters: 3/3 Word count: 13.6k matching playlist

Edwin is kidnapped by a demon during a case, leaving Charles and Crystal to pick up his trail. It takes them four days to find him. AKA, a heartbreaking story of love and near loss told from three separate perspectives.

~

All of the below fics are part of my pre-canon series and should be read in order

The Case of the Selkie’s Skin

Chapters: 4/4 Word count: 14.1k matching playlist

Charles and Edwin are hired by a recently deceased selkie to track down her skin, which was stolen from her and hidden away by her husband before he passed on. Charles finds that her story hits a little too close to home.

Victrola Blues

Chapters: 1/1 Word count: 3.6k

"[Edwin’s] past with music had unfortunately set him down a road that eventually ended with being murdered and imprisoned in Hell for seventy years. Most days, Edwin cannot help but believe that if his love of music hadn’t been so all-consuming, he may have gone on to live a full life."

The Case of Eros’s Arrow

Chapters: 4/? Word count: 13.2k matching playlist

Charles and Edwin are hired by a deity of love four days before Valentine's Day to seek out a stolen magical item. What could possibly go wrong?

Series OC Masterpost

-

Writing Scraps

x x x x x x

~

Playlists

Charles & Edwin Crystal Niko Esther Monty

(please feel free to send me song suggestions for any of these

[riddles-fiddles]

The pregnancy scenario is so gorgeous, I love!! And perfect timing, I literally had a dream the night before about having a kid with Leona and Idia (two different dream timelines of the same scenario converging later as a kind of after party). I thought you might get a kick out of my brain’s toy box nonsense :3

The Leona timeline was very sweet, him comforting me after someone attempted to kill me for imperfect human genetics, and then getting me pregnant to spite the killer. Idia was too nervous to kiss me to wake me up from a Maleficent curse sleep. He eventually woke me up and we then had a kid who I think was called Scoot? Started with an S and had a double O in the middle.

At the after party scene, both the kids looked like the Tsums of the father, since my brain struggles to render babies in sleep XD But the fathers were both thrilled and proceeded to show them off to everyone around them!

Honestly this is so cute anon!!! You're making me want to write more domestic scenarios with the boys,,,

Leona knocking you up in spite from the killer is so him lmao but ohhhhh think if the killer was hired by his parents to erase you out of his life. Just makes Leona more possessive of you, so when you finally grow a bump visible enough he'll be walking around with his hands always somewhere on your body, making sure to let everyone know you are his most perfect human mate (and he'll personally throw hands at anyone who even dares look at you with any hint of disgust or mockery). When the baby arrives, Leona is so lively - his lazy demeanor never truly leaves his soul, but at least now he has one motivation to get up from bed and slack off - especially if it's a girl! I can totally see him being such an endearing girldad, the type to make feminine voices when playing house and always getting so invested when throwing fake tea parties, also gets his daughter the biggest unicorn on the fair, no matter if he needs to go through some ridiculous game. Either be it a girl or a boy, Leona's favourite thing to do is go to small walks with his baby on his shoulders, squealing in excitement from all the stimuli around them, teaching them about everyday things like what is a butterfly, why birds chirp, and so on. You could say your child really did bring a light to Leona's life.

Idia... he wants to give the baby an unique name, or something regarding the online games or otaku media he consumes, but all you need to do is bat your eyelashes and hold his hand in a death gentle grip to sort his mind out of this idea. Idia's very nervous and overly cautious around the baby, always, and easily freaks out from the smallest ractions - when the baby sneezes, when they cough, even innocent, bright squeals sends him spiraling into an anxious coma. He's horrified of the idea of accidentally dropping his own child or just hurting them in some way, so he's always with a firm grip around the head and body, sustaining them even with trembling hands. He's very dedicated though, so Idia is always close to them, literally. He'll have the baby secured against his chest in a baby carrier while gaming, sometimes making effect sounds to amuse them; you know they truly are Idia's child from the way they look so enthralled to the screen, curious eyes scanning every move, every change of scenario like they're actually understanding something. He finds it annoying to go out in public with them though! His child is just so freaking cute with their cheeks so rosy and squeezable every stranger wants to talk and cuddle them, making Idia feel proud and at the same time mortified, fighting the urge to just turn heels and run back home as fast as possible. Idia doesn't care what gender his child is, but you can be sure he'll want to dress them in gamer onesies and clothing. 'Player three' and 'level 1 human' kinda shit, you know? But he will neeeeever admit he's doing it because he secretly finds it cute; god forbid Idia Shroud enjoying something so normie. Cringe.

[lets-try-some-writing]

Heya! Hope you're doing well <3

So I have a world building question that I've been curious about for a while now, and I hope you're interested in answering; what would Cybertronian literature be like? Would they have fictional stories, or would it mostly be history texts and such?

If they did have fictional stories, I doubt they would have many, if any, romance books since they're obviously not a romantic species like humans. Would superhero stories with outliers be a thing? (Can't remember if outliers are viewed as bad or not). Would fantasy stories with like, Predacons be popular or would they be frowned upon with some mechs because of their history with them? (Looking at you, Kup and Autoway)

Hm, I wonder if stories with organic aliens would be a hit or not...

Considering how well Cybertron was doing before the war, I'd imagine their fiction stories weren't at the level and/or had the amount that are on Earth. Or would it have nothing to do with the state of Cybertron and more with that it was scoffed at?

My brain is just going wild with all the ways that this could turn out, but what I really, really want to know if they have fanfiction. Wait, would Orion write fanfiction??!! Dammit, Orion fangirling over a character has taken root in my brain

That wraps that whirlwind of an ask. Don't forget to not overwork yourself and stay hydrated! ❤️

Lore time?!?! Fantastic. So sorry its been *counts fingers* three to four months??? The writing vibe has been very picky as of late. Doing my best over here to answer asks from months back o(￣┰￣*)ゞ

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

Literature on Cybertron is a curious thing. Culture varies wildly from city to city, but due to governmental influence everywhere, a large portion of the consumable literature on the datanet follows a certain structure. Information is highly controlled, and thus, only literature that supports or otherwise agrees with the government is allowed to exist on any public platform. Things that do not conform with the regulations put down are deleted immediately. Thus the literature that is deemed "safe" is often bland, preachy, or straight up propaganda. While Cybertron's population may have tolerated the Council due to a lack of fighting capability at the time, they also weren't fools. Not a spark enjoyed the aft kissing works produced by those who couldn't be bothered to be original.

Thus the underbelly of literature came into being, a hidden series of trade networks and secret websites created to keep the quality writing safe from the Council. Most of the hidden works consisted of data from all over the planet, the things that the Council kept hidden. Police reports, body cam videos, documents, records, trade reports, incident reports, historical documents struck from the records, information on mecha who "vanished", and so much more. Everything one could ever want information was was down there in the dark parts of the datanet. Such things always came with a price attached.

If one wanted data, it needed to be paid for. Shanix was too easy to track, and so instead information was traded. Data for data, knowledge for knowledge. It was in the darker parts of the datanet that the Archives collected much of their... more confidential information. Alpha Trion never tolerated the loss of critical information and there were whole groups under his control dedicated to collecting what he wanted from those who possessed the knowledge. There were entire wars online when it came to data, some that even resulted in doxing and death. The world was dangerous, and with the Council hunting for any and all information, literature was a prized resource reserved for those with the ability to trade for it. Orion and Soundwave both were very well oriented with the trading performed on the datanet. They were well known under their online tags and both maintained very active information broking circles up until the war began. Even then, both managed to keep weaseling data out of their sources up until Cybertron went dark.

Then of course there was the less professional corners of the darker parts of the datanet. Works of fiction were by no means unusual, but they were only produced by mecha with certain... tastes. Most were not lacking in imagination, but rather the ability to make their visions legible. The ability to properly produce a work of fiction was, more often than not, difficult for the average mech to do. Most works of fiction came from the middle castes or the upper lower castes. Higher caste bots were not allowed to write anything serious for fear of backlash, and the lower castes simply did not have the time more often than not. As such, only the highly biased middle castes had any ability to produce fiction at all.

Sci-fi did not exist as a genre, for quite obvious reasons. More often than not, what fiction came into being tended to fall into several categories which matched the desires of the middle castes. Courtly drama was a world renown and beloved genre. Every mech ran into a work in the genre at least once, and the themes usually revolved around the main character either climbing the social ladder to get into the higher castes or somehow evading their hold to achieve something. It was wish fulfillment at its finest, but the middle castes adored the genre as it satisfied the desires they had. Ratchet wrote one surprisingly well performing novel about climbing the ladder to become CMO. It was based off his own experiences, and while not exactly popular, medics everywhere all universally knew of his novel, although not a spark knew he wrote it.

The second biggest genre was rather specific, and it happened to be the caste change genre. Every bot wished they were something else for the most part. As such, there was a plethora of documents that focused around a mech from one caste either moving up or down the chain and having to adapt to the new way of life. The cultural differences around Cybertron played their part in the caste change genre as mecha from all over the planet learned from and wrote their novels. Many serious misconceptions came from the novels of that type, but it tended to create a sense of tolerance amongst the population more often than not. Even still, there were more than a few crimes committed due to rather ridiculous misunderstandings regarding local culture from individuals who only learned from novels. While not common knowledge, Starscream wrote an incredibly well received novel with completely made up cultural norms for Vos that were so widely accepted that grounders everywhere got arrested en mass until the government stepped in. Starscream has yet to stop finding it amusing.

The third most popular genre was the only one the lower castes could feasibly relate to, and it happened to be about police and murder mystery. The stories had no set formula, unlike the prior two popular genres. However they almost always involved the main character eliminating some scum of the Earth, uncovering a deep dark secret, or putting an end to a horrific criminal underworld. It was pure wish fulfillment from middle caste mecha who knew just enough to want to change things, but didn't have the guts to actually go out and take a stand. Jazz wrote his fair share of novels relating to the subject, one of which became so popular that he ended up changing his identity twice and faked his death once in order to escape any connection to it. He didn't learn until vorns later that his novel, which was based on a real mystery, had actually solved a well covered Council kept secret.

Lastly there was the religiously oriented works of fiction. The genre itself was incredibly niche due to the differing beliefs and delicate nature of faith on Cybertron. But the few who wrote for the subject were masters of their craft. Usually they were artist renditions of old tales, retellings of myth and legend, or even fictional takes on the lives of old Primes. Highly heretical in nature, very few stepped into the genre of Primacy related anything. The Council was always on the lookout for such novels, and thus those who wrote them were far more likely to vanish under mysterious circumstances. What novels were written often didn't last long. The only three novels that made it out alive amidst the harsh censoring happened to be a set of novels written by Orion Pax in collaboration with Senator Shockwave and a novel done by none other than D-16 himself. The three novels all showed urban legends and tales from all three castes and were beloved globally, even if every physical copy was destroyed on sight.

Orion, and later Optimus Prime largely forgot about his written work. Unbeknownst to him, Megatron has kept a copy of his work and the two other novels. He has no clue Optimus and Shockwave wrote them, but he adores them and have lovingly gone into English teacher mode more times than one could count to find the deeper meaning behind everything. Humanity's love for 1984, To Kill a Mockingbird, and Dante's Inferno is the level of adoration Megatron holds for the three novels on his shelf.

There were other stories of course. Fantasy novels set far into Cybertron's distant past made purely off imagination and globally mocked by those who lived long enough to see the early days of Cybertron. A genre akin to Romance that focused on companionship and starcrossed designs put in place by Primus. Strange tales made by those on Colony worlds going into depth on organics and their cultures. Heroic stories focusing around Primus's chosen and champions of the people. Underdog tales with Outliers coming out of hiding or breaking their bonds to be free and express themselves as they saw fit...

The stories were diverse, but all were hidden. Every mech read them, but none spoke of them aloud. Literature was the quiet universal culture of Cybertron prior to the war.

[meanbossart]

A long over-due ask compilation (Art & Music)

It's vaguely based on a short story from the book "The Consumer" by Michael Gira, specifically "The Boss". I think it came up in conversation with a friend or something when I was picking a new username, so that's how we arrived at it - this was almost a decade ago so, my memory on it is a little hazy!

{MORE UNDER THE CUT]

HAHA thank you so much!!! Glad you enjoy what I do 😎🍻

I BELIEVE this little guide I put together over here might be helpful to you, also! I touched on pretty much everything you brought up.

As for reference material when it comes to facial expressions, I have a mirror next to my desk which I glance at often and make weird faces at LOL and for consistency, it's really a matter of learning to dissect and remember facial structure. It's just something you end up developing an eye for when you've done it for long enough! Naturally, if we're talking about drawing existing characters, it's always helpful to just look at some pictures of their mugs and take a minute to define what features about them make their faces recognizable - I touch on this at the link above as well!

I do plan on making a "drowstarion" (love that, by the way LOL) playlist eventually, life's just been kicking my ass and I hardly have the time 😭and when I do, I just wanna draw.

Otherwise I don't have any other playlists floating around at the moment, BUT the one my boyfriend made for his Vellioth comic can be found here, and it might scratch a similar itch!

Thank you! I believe this was in reference to this post. Something like that takes me about... An hour??? If we're talking just the colors, at least. Though that's a really rough estimate because I take a lot of breaks, so my sense of time when I work ends up pretty skewed. Even if the application of the colors themselves took less than 20 minutes I probably spent 2 hours just staring at it LOL.

My friend, I have no idea. I'm in a constant battle between "I want to draw more realistically" and "I want to simplify my art so I can draw more/faster". What you see is the result of that ongoing brain-tug-of-war.

Also, just the way I assume everyone else develops theirs - they see stuff they like and emulate it until their art is Frankensteinish enough to be it's own unique thing!

I'm far from a Type O Negative buff, BUT I'm happy to share some of my favorites with you! They're quite scattered across a couple of their albums so I'm not sure I have a favorite, but I would say October Rust is a good starting point.

In no particular order, these are my most listened tracks of theirs: -Love You to Death -Black N.01 -Haunted -She Burned Me Down -Can't Lose You -I Don't Wanna Be Me -Be My Druidess -September Sun -Tripping A Blind Man

Alas, I was one of those people who was already drawing in kindergarten 😅 though I would say I only started taking it seriously when I was around 15-16 years old. As someone who has tried their hand at several other hobbies since reaching adulthood, I get what you're saying that it can kinda feel like... You missed the wagon? I've felt that way about all kind of things lol

That said, I've seen adults managing to develop their art skills extremely fast and effectively before. Understanding where and how you need to improve, and how to follow lessons/guides best is something that is vastly improved by maturity and knowing how to best hone your time, attention, and resources - and those are skills we completely lack as children. So, I sincerely believe that as long as you commit yourself, you can definitely get to a point that you're happy with in a couple of years if not less.

JUST DO IT BUDDY we are all just people looking through a screen and you won't ever see, talk, or meet 99% of the folks who ever clap eyes on what you post. Whenever you start getting nervous about sharing something, take a minute to ask yourself why you're nervous, and if none of the reasons have any genuine substance besides being afraid of what people "might think", just go ahead and post it. You're no mind-reader after all, and if you are, I doubt you can hear what a guy from Argentina or wherever is thinking about the art you made.

Point is, nobody online can touch you 🤷and if someone doesn't like what you do, they can simply choose to not interact with it, and if they do you can block and move on. There are zero reasons for you to feel "bad" about putting up a doodle when our experiences on the web are so easily curated nowadays.

[tallestsilver]

50. “It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain; but once conceived, it haunted me day and night.”

Okay, I don't know what it's not posting with the *whoops* 5 pages, but I will post it.

EDIT: I am thwarted by tumblr. Have these links: AO3

FFN

To infer that I am a haunted man is an understatement. I have a personality apt for obsession. To throw myself entirely into my passions with reckless disregard to my surroundings. At times such as these, my attention is consumed by, more often than not, composing. I may go days without moving from my post, neither sleeping nor eating; nothing of this earthly realm can deter me when I focus on the divinity of music.

That is, of course, until one Mademoiselle Christine Daae haphazardly entered my domain.

Nothing so pure with child-like whimsy and naivety has shaken me to my core as resolutely as one Mlle. Daae.

Initially, I could sweep her from my thoughts. She is a young woman with many prospects. No doubt, could easily find a patron that lurks in the corners of the ballet corps. Many other young women and girls have succumbed through desperation to those demanding aristocrats with too much time and money to spare, and plenty of disregard for the fairer sex.

Convincing myself it was just my carnal base desires leaching out from the pits of my own desperation could only go so far. Although the thought of hand to hand, flesh to flesh was undeniably enticing, it was the thought of domesticity with Mlle. Daae that plagued my every thought: how comforting the warm embrace of her arms must be. A petite sigh of boredom, deciding on what book to read. Slight quibbles on what to eat for the evening supper. Her jubilant enthusiasm for the next aria I undoubtedly would encourage her to sing.

Above all, the care and ritual that she would engage in for her own beauty. How rapturous it was, to gaze upon her as she gazed upon herself at her vanity. Vanity - the very word loathsome to me, suggesting as though men did not participate in gazing at women in the very same regard as a mirror.

These quick glances I so abashedly stole while she sat preening, unbeknownst to my very presence, were not lecherous albeit voyeuristic. No, the careful application of rouge upon her cheeks and lips entranced me. Fur-soft puffs laced with powder enhance her brilliance. Waxed perfume enticing all the senses upon her wrist and decolletage. And sin against sins, the way her bristled brush caressed through her golden tresses. That, truly, was my undoing.

The carefully laid witchcraft of feminine makeup was inspiring to me, for it could potentially do wonders for even the most macabre of faces into looking somewhat respectable. I had dabbled in the venture myself, using theatre techniques to adhere attributes to myself that were so sorely lacking.

But the spell Christine cast upon me while brushing her hair was my undoing. Alas! To be the silken ribbon tied behind her graceful neck to keep the mass of riotous curls at bay so she could study her scripts, movements, chords... To run my spindly claws through her hair...

It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain; but once conceived, it haunted me day and night. I wanted nothing more than that domesticity, accumulating to be able to assist her in her womanly needs. To fetch the shade she needed for her next scene or to comb out the tangles of the divine. I wanted, nay, needed to be a house husband to her. Fawning over her every whim, cooking, cleaning, making sure my Nordic Goddess could never want. And then, hope upon hope, to stroll in a park on a Sunday.

After exposing myself as the fraudulent Ange de la Musique, we did settle into a somewhat harmonious existence. Not exactly to my fantasies, but surely we held each other in some regard.

Maddening silence was often my punishment if I did anything she deemed untoward. Granted, my violent outbursts were getting more and more frequent as she gained more notoriety, attracting the attention of other men. She was not mine, not truly, but I could see fit she was not theirs, either.

I found myself in one of those sullen moods of hers. Dark circles plagued my Angel's under eyes. She no longer cared for her rouge, perfumes, or trinkets. She was no longer amused by my antics of sleight of hand, stories, or even songs.

Christine slumped into a morbidity that I knew only too well. True, her boy did indeed leave for the Northern Pole, and we're slowly acclimating ourselves to a potential future, whatever that may be, but the disdain in her gaze strikes me as sharply as a knife. No, perhaps not disdain that she feels for me; resignation may be the proper term for the hollow look in her eyes.

I never considered myself a timid creature, but the thought of her unhappiness sends me spiraling in isolation, to shun myself from her presence.

It was in this meekness, that I carefully approached the creature of all my desires, as she stared numbly at her vanity.

"Good evening, Erik," she stated automatically, not bothering to turn to face me. My eyes gleamed yellow in the reflection. If she wanted to speak to me thusly, I would acquiesce and respond in kind.

"Good evening, Christine." My voice was low, not demanding, but certainly not The Voice. I had refrained from using The Voice on her in many months after she berated me that she did not like losing her faculties as such.

"Around me," was the unspoken phrase that she had not explicitly stated, but the implication was thus.

No matter, I did not want her to be hypnotized to tolerate me. This 'case of the morbs', my dearest had, was better than utter disdain or calmness against her will. My desires were simple, to enjoy each others' company, for a smiling bride awaiting her gruesome husband and to welcome me with kindness.

Reason dictated that I repair the contemptuous relationship we found ourselves in. But women are fickle creatures and any means of being contrite seemed to annoy her. Could I not read the emotions of other creatures well enough? Are humans not but animals with longings to be loved as well as any?

In my coveted ideal of domesticity, I found myself liking Christine to be a feral feline that one should be cautious to approach, lest she hiss and strike you with an open paw. But perhaps in providing for her needs, she might allow a gentle pet.

I stood behind her, my hands wringing, uncertain of how to broach the question that had plagued my mind.

She sighed heavily, her eyes closing in - annoyance? Trepidation? - before asking, "what is it, Erik?"

I nearly bristled at the directness of her question, but Christine had mentioned it is easier to get what you want with honey rather than brute force - whatever that is meant, I took a cautious step toward her.

The precious girl did not run away.

"Erik wanted to know-" I froze as her mouth deepened into a frown at my slip. She admonished me frequently for not speaking in the first person. "I wanted to know-" I quickly corrected, "if you require some assistance with brushing your hair?"

Her eyes fluttered open and she looked at me through the mirror of her vanity quizzically. I took another step forward, rubbing my wrists in uncertainty. She once mentioned she liked my cuffs a little shorter, exposing my wrists, and I adjusted my entire wardrobe accordingly, but instances like this made me feel exposed all over.

"What?" Her hands automatically ran over the ends of her hair, indeed, finding a mass of tangles and knots. She looked down in an all-too familiar expression for me: shame at her appearance.

My hands dropped to my side, my body rigid in fear, that I caused the anguish that shadowed her beloved features. "What I mean to say- not that you require it- I thought it would- no, no you mustn't-" My thoughts were a jumbled mess as did my words, usually so mastercrafted, fell so flat into nonsense.

As I rambled, Christine turned in her seat, witnessing my awkwardness. She toyed with a stray lock of hair, plucking at some split ends, her usual proper posture hunched and withdrawn. She was quiet as I hurriedly decided to dismiss myself and wallow in my awkward misery into my own room, when her voice called in a meek, considering way, "all right."

"I shall see myself out because you certainly do not wish for me to-" I snapped to attention and whirled back around, "-all right?"

She nodded and retrieved her hair brush, silently reaching it toward me.

My mouth gaped open and shut like a gasping fish before moving toward her once again.

"All right," I responded in kind.

Reaching for her brush, our fingers touched, ever so slightly, and I held the gasp that threatened to escape my throat. I was touch-starved, this is true, but the demure sensation was a relief to one more step toward normalcy. I looked to her to see if she was offended that my skeletal hand should touch her radiance, but no screams were heard. She simply nodded and turned back to face the mirror as I stumbled to stand behind her. Heat blossomed across my masked face, my ears betraying my blush that she would allow me to touch her.

My hands trembled, unsure where to begin, unwilling to hurt the angel in front of me. This was a foolish endeavor, I know nothing about caring for long hair, particularly the mass of curls before me. I pressed the brush to bundle of tangles at the nape of her neck and tried to pull down. The bristles stopped dead in their tracks, but Christine's head went down with the motion with a gasp, "ow!"

I froze in terror, all feeling draining from my person. I had wounded my Christine. I hurt her unintentionally once again. "Apologies, my-m," I bit my tongue to prevent myself from saying out loud, "My Christine." I wanted to run, to flee, to have her never look upon me again and to give up this silly dream. But I also wanted to persevere, to be of use to her, to see that smile once again.

Christine sensed my hesitancy, and with the patience of a saint, she mimed how to start in the mirror. "From the bottom," she said quietly, just above a whisper. "Work your way up to the top. That will help with the tangles. I have not felt like myself, I can do it-" she reached for the brush and I snatched it away from her grasp.

"No!" I barked, too loud. She winced from the loud exclamation, but the poor dear did not run in terror. I cleared my throat and inhaled deeply to settle my nerves, "No," I stated more gently, but firmly. "Eri-I wish to do this for you." I looked at her earnestly. "Please."

She looked warily at me and I inwardly chided myself. My emotional outbursts were more and more infrequent, but they still bubbled to the surface now and again. She slowly nodded and repositioned herself in front of the mirror.

Cautiously, slowly, I started brushing her hair out. Her curls separated and poofed before me. I gripped a few locks and ran the brush through it, marveling how it shimmered in the candlelight. The tangles persisted, but as did this magnificent angel, nary a peep out of her lips. I moved through delicately, sections unraveling themselves and it became easier and easier to maneuver.

I restrained myself from burying my face in sunshine made tangible, to inhale her sweet perfume, but I shall admit it was a struggle. I did not want to cross the boundary of this tentative truce.

As I managed to make it all the way to the top of her scalp, the brush gliding through the rest of her tresses easily, Christine gave the sweetest feminine sigh and leaned back, against my frame. While I continued with my ministrations, my mind roiled in delight and fear. How do I navigate a situation like this? This was suddenly more intimate than I was prepared for and a quick excuse to leave became very appealing. I need to sleep? She would never believe that. Compose? Make some tea?

"I feel," her voice interrupted my frantic thoughts once again, "that if I were a cat," she paused, as if carefully examining her next words, "I might purr." She smiled - oh! How that angel blessed me with her smile- and looked at me once again.

Dumbfounded and skittish, I could only nod. The two of us fools, navigating dynamic we were naive to explore. I did not want to cease the brushing, but as her hair no longer needed attention, I was at a loss for what to do.

"Thank you, Erik." She reached back and separated the fluffy mane into three segments and deftly plaited her hair into a neat braid.

I took a step back from her, holding my hands, "You're welcome, Christine."

Silence enveloped us once again and I took that as a signal to leave.

"Will you tell me another story? It has been quite a long time since you read to me or told me of your travels."

She stood and offered her hand to me. Tentatively, I embraced it.

"Yes."

[sxmpfxrortega]

Blinded by Secrets

an: hello :) i am back and *not so* better than ever. I'm gonna be doing multiple chapters of this because there's quite a lot.

Warnings: blood, kissing (later on), nsfw (also later on), mentions of unalivings

ps. this is a g!p reader story :)

hope you enjoy!

/////////////////////////// 1 /////////////////////////////////

It was a chilly night in New York, you were getting goosebumps despite your robe and your mask.

The wind picks up as you near the river, you let out an exasperated huff.

You take the lifeless body that was once over your shoulder and sit him on the ledge, dumping him into the water.

As he begins to sink, your phone dings; it's a message from Tara, your best friend.

Tara: Hey, where are you? The friend group's been looking for you... you're making us worried.

You sigh in frustration as you hit the call button, calling her.

Tara picks up after the first ring, her voice filled with worry.

"Hey, are you okay? We thought something terrible happened to you. Where are you?" she fires off quickly.

You laugh into the phone, finding her rapid fire of questions adorable, "Uh-no? I had to pick up my little brother from his friend's house. I'm sorry, he had a panic attack." You lied easily to her despite the feeling of hatred you had for yourself doing so... but you can't let her know what you've just done.

The relief in her voice can be heard, "Oh my god, is he okay? Are you still with him?"

You sigh a little, your head has a dull pounding, "I just dropped him off, I'm heading to the apartment in a bit, I need to change."

She sounds more relaxed once you say that, but you can still hear a tinge of worry laced in her voice, "Why do you have to change? Is something wrong?"

Shit. Probably shouldn't have mentioned that.

You stammer slightly, trying to think of something quickly, "No, yeah, everything's fine, I just uh... spilled some coffee in my lap. You know me, clumsy and now unfortunately sticky."

You laugh awkwardly and slap your forehead and think to yourself, 'nice one, jackass'

Luckily, she laughs as well, "You and coffee stains don't go well together, huh?"

You smile and imagine that cute smile that shows her dimples.

God, are you a simp or are you a simp?

You chuckle softly, "It definitely is better consumed, I must say."

She giggles sweetly at your sarcasm, more relaxed, "Okay well... you said you'll be here soon? How long will you be?"

You think to yourself for a moment, your eyes scanning the dark alleyway, "Uh... give me like 20 and I'll be there."

You can practically hear the smile in her voice, "Alright, hurry up then, I'm ready for some cuddles."

You're taken aback, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks, "O-oh?"

Your brain is malfunctioning as you tug at the collar of your robe.

She laughs deviously, "You heard me."

Your mouth opens and closes for a moment, barely able to formulate a sentence, "How could I resist?"

She laughs, "You can't, so hurry up. I miss you, dork."

Your heart is hammering in your chest, and just for a moment, you forgot you just dumped a body into the river.

"Who all's there right now?" You say, clearing your throat, trying hard to regain your composure.

She takes a breath before responding, "Quinn, Ethan, and me. We're in the middle of a game, but I want you right now."

Your eyebrows raise at how bold she was being.

Jesus Christ, Tara Carpenter will be the death of you, and you're more than okay with that.

Your words are quiet, "Where's your sister, goober? She hardly leaves you alone."

She lets out an exaggerated sigh, "I know, I'm surprised as well... she's actually with the guy next door. Now will you please stop playing 20 questions with me and get here so I can see you!?"

You can hear the pout in her tone and practically see the puppy dog eyes.

You chuckle at her, "Ma'am yes ma'am, don't wanna keep you waiting."

She giggles cutely, "Finally, I can't wait to see you."

You smile to yourself a bit at her dramatics, "I'll see you in a bit, okay?"

"Okay, hurry it up." She says with a laugh.

You hang up the phone and sigh harder, looking down at your body.

You have blood all over you from the person you just killed.

You rip your Ghostface outfit off and throw it in the gym bag in your trunk.

Jumping in the driver's seat, you speed off to your apartment to change.

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

Hello! I was wondering if you could please write up a BG3 headcanon request involving Halsin, Wyll, Astarion and Gale? How would they react to/take care of their Tav who has an alcohol or drug addiction?

A/N: Aw, man, do I feel this ask. Sometimes I like to joke that I come from a long line of alcoholics, because, well, I do. But it’s usually me trying to put some levity into serious family discussions. I don’t think a lot of people understand that addiction is a physiological illness: it’s a full-body response, not a case of “mind over matter” as some people like to say. There’s such a stigma and it sucks because research shows that when we respond kindly, and not with punishment or ostracization, that’s when addicts have a higher chance of recovery. So know that while I am no expert on addiction, I did try my best to be respectful and accurate. I hope you enjoy! 

TW: Addiction, Alcoholism 

BG3 Male Companions Taking Care of Tav Who Battles Alcoholism/Addiction 

Astarion: 

In a way, Astarion is kind of an addict himself. He’s a vampire, spawn, or ascendant, he needs blood for energy. He can go for extended times without it, but those times have been tortuous and caused lasting mental and emotional damage. That eternal need hanging over his head coupled with the impact of Cazador’s abuse has permanently re-wired his brain. Astarion doesn’t react like the average elf, he can’t, not anymore. 

So when it comes to altered brain chemistry, Astarion’s certainly no stranger. Although his addiction lies more within the supernatural, he can use his own experience to relate to Tav’s more pedestrian affliction. 

Astarion won’t ever outright deny Tav something. If Tav asks for a drink or a drug, Asation won’t take it upon himself to literally hold Tav down as a means of keeping them from consuming it. Astarion knows that method won’t work in the long run, and would most likely only result in Tav resenting him, and he can’t have that. 

Astarion will make a face or two, however, his expression switches from concerned to slightly judgemental depending on the context. He wants Tav to be aware of his opinion, but he doesn't want to smother them. Tav’s not a child, Astarion isn’t responsible for them. 

Still, thanks to his concern, I do think Astarion would confront them about it. He’d need to speak to Tav to hear for himself precisely what's going on. If Tav is still in their denial phase, Astarion tries hard to get them out of it. There’s no use trying to help someone who refuses to acknowledge they have an issue. Astarion knows, so he understands the shame that comes with it. But he reminds Tav he did eventually come clean about being a vampire, and about his past with Cazador, so now it’s Tav’s turn to do the same. 

Once Tav is open about their struggles, Astarion makes a point to check in with them throughout the day. He’ll nonchalantly provide Tav with alternatives to drink: water or tea, things that aren’t ale, and wine. He’ll be subtle about it though. Astarion will never act as if he’s going out of his way to do Tav a favor. No, it’s not like that, he swears! It just so happens Gale was asking for tea and Astarion thought he’d go make him some seeing as how sad and pathetic the wizards had been acting over losing his goddess, and Astarion thought, well, perhaps Tav would like some as well. 

The most difficult part for Astarion is witnessing Tav endure withdrawal. It’s a horrible, painful process. If Astarion didn’t know any better, he’d say the whole thing looked a lot like being killed and then brought back from the dead. He still remembers the way his body ached and burned and hungered upon Cazador turning him into a vampire. It may have been two hundred years but nothing could ever make him forget that pain. It’s why Astarion wishes, more than anything, that he could alleviate such agony for Tav. 

If Astarion remains a spawn, there’s nothing he can do but hold Tav close, dab their forehead with a cool cloth, and whisper soft words of comfort into their ear. ‘You will be alright, darling. Even this will pass.’ 

If Astarion has become a vampire ascendant, however, he can make Tav a vampire, if that is something Tav chooses. This isn’t a magic fix, however. While there’s a possibility Tav may no longer have the addictions they did as a vampire that they did as a human, there’s no guarantee that hunger will not carry over. Should it carry over, Tav would then be forced to be content with those previous addictions in addition to their newfound bloodlust. It’s a risk. But even if there’s a small chance it could work, Astarion proposes the idea to Tav. Ascendant Astarion would still find it preferable for Tav to be an addict as a spawn, as it makes it incredibly easy for him to control Tav’s actions. Sure, they may still be addicted, but without Astarion’s permission, they can’t take what they want when they want. It would create tension and a fair degree of hostility between the two. But Astarion the Vampire Ascendent believes an angry, vampire-spawn Tav to be superior to a happy dead one. 

And of course, no matter whether he’s a spawn or ascended Astarion makes a point that despite Tav’s addiction, he’s not going anywhere. If Tav falls off the wagon again, or if they’re not ready to try and face their addiction right now, Astarion will remain at their side, waiting for the day they’re ready to try again. ‘I’m not going anywhere my love. I can promise you that.’ 

Gale: 

Gale’s first response, of course, is to try and determine a way to solve this problem via magical means. Now as a wizard, he doesn’t have access to the kinds of healing spells druids and clerics have. But, he does a fair amount of arcane knowledge about enchantments, and curses. And well, what is addiction if not a natural, biological enchantment? Gale considers himself fairly rounded on the subject of human biology as well, so Tav is in for a bit of an earful if and when they first admit their affliction to him. 

Gale may not have experience with the kinds of addiction Tav is, but thanks to his experiments with Weave, and now having been cursed with the orb, Gale knows the urgency of living under a constant ticking clock. If he cannot consume the magic from magical artifacts, if the orb is not sated with bits of the Weave on occasion, he risks blowing up everyone for miles. 

In some ways, this makes Gale’s “addiction” all the more dangerous. It doesn’t merely affect his own body and the relationships with his loved ones, but it jeopardizes almost every other living person within Baldur’s Gate. Of course, Gale would never say this. And while he may think such a self-pitying thought, he dare not share it with Tav. The last thing Gale wants to do is make Tav’s very real problem seem inconsequential because it most certainly is not!

Instead, Gale offers to commiserate with Tav on occasion, making sure to never bellyache the loudest. He wants it to be Tav’s time to vent, complain, scream- to just let it all out. He knows Tav is under an incredible amount of pressure as their leader, addiction or not. Gale wants Tav to trust him enough for the two of them to be vulnerable around each other. I mean Mystra above! The whole camp knows that Gale’s easily susceptible most of the time, so there’s absolutely no shame in Tav admitting they experience similarly at times. 

Gale will take it upon himself to concoct a special drink menu for Tav, all nonalcoholic of course. It’s elaborate and painstakingly organized. If Tav thought their sober options were few and far between before, they certainly won’t now! Gale is the camp’s resident cook, so he takes pride in being able to satisfy not only everyone’s needs but to please their tastes as well. Well, except for Astarion. Blood is not ever to be a feature on Gale's menu, thank you very much!

The part Gale has some trouble with is wrapping his head around someone as wonderful as Tav would ever want such a life for themselves. Gale thinks highly of Tav, sometimes too highly. In some instances, Gale cannot see the forest for the trees thanks to the pedestal he’s placed Tav on. In such scenarios, Tav may have to remind Gale that they’re only mortal. And that this affliction of theirs is no more a choice than Gale’s own need for magic. 

Once Gale is on the same page, he ceases the majority of his condemnation, instead opting to try and distract Tav from the overwhelming desires raging on inside them. He offers to show Tav the Weave once more, or perhaps, some other simple, rather pretty tricks. Rolan’s display of fireworks in Emerald Grove wasn’t a difficult spell, and certainly no challenge for Gale. But if many simple spells are what it takes to keep Tav’s mind occupied as they ride out their newfound prohibition, then so be it. 

If by some miracle, Gale does find a spell or enchantment to help alleviate some of Tav’s worse withdrawal symptoms or cravings, he will perform it enthusiastically should Tav want. And if Tav prefers to handle this the old-fashioned way, Gale will do his best to bite his tongue and respect Tav’s choices. ‘I just want things to be easier for you. Life is hard enough as it is with all this tadpole business running around. Whatever you ask of me, you shall get.’ 

Gale is a faithful partner. He doesn’t run at the first sign of trouble, not when’s committed himself to another person. Be it in friendship, or romance, relationships mean a great deal to him. He refuses to let Tav endure this hardship alone. ‘I do not say this lightly: you mean a great deal to me. No matter the toils, I will stay by your side.’ 

Wyll: 

Wyll, above all else, aims to be an honorable man. Despite his suffering, despite his shortcomings and misfortunes, he refuses to falter or fall. His deal with Mizora may have sullied his Father’s view of him and dampened Wyll’s view of himself, but it did not change how he desires to see himself. Wyll knows the kind of man he wants to be and he does everything within his power to act accordingly. 

For Wyll, addiction is a difficult subject. He’s very strong-willed, and because he spends so much time working hard to do what he believes is the right thing, he can look down on other people at times. He has sympathy for people dealing with such afflictions, but behind his care, a small part of him is disappointed. He believes in choosing to be good, to try harder. He thinks all mortals are capable of acting wiser. So while Wyll understands Tav endures such difficulties now, Wyll also firmly believes Tav will have conquered them in the future. 

This can put a fair amount of pressure on Tav’s shoulders. But it can also serve to inspire them. In either case, Tav would need to talk to Wyll about how they feel when it comes to Wyll’s encouragement. Wyll, being the supportive man he is, would never want to intentionally make Tav feel demoralized. So if there’s something in his behavior or in his words of motivation that he can change to make Tav feel less burdened, he will do so. 

Wyll, like Astarion, knows he cannot make himself responsible for Tav’s choices. So Wyll does not take the part of Tav’s keeper, but he does make an effort to be near Tav as they make their decision, offering his opinion should Tav ask. The more Wyll’s presence remains a constant in Tav’s life, the more Wyll hopes Tav will come to appreciate his perspective. If Tav knows Wyll isn’t going to leave or abandon them anytime soon, they may feel emboldened to make the necessary tougher decisions of turning down a drink or two. 

Wyll is more than happy to stay up chatting the nights the cravings just won’t go away. During days Tav’s irrepressible urge causes them to feel restless and manic, Wyll asks Tav to join him for a lesson in combat. After all, he’s not called the Blade of Frontiers for nothing. Sweating out the chemicals and forcing the body to flush all the drugs out of Tav’s system is a great way to sober up. And if the symptoms of withdrawal aren’t all-consuming, it also makes for a great distraction. 

However, during the periods everything is all just too much: the headaches, the nausea, the itchiness, and the sweating won’t stop, Wyll finds a shady spot in camp for the two of them to rest. And as Tav rides out such agonizing lows, Wyll tells stories of his time as a child living in Baldur’s Gate in soothing, hushed tones. His warm voice brings comfort, a much-needed contrast to the ailment Tav’s fighting. 

Wyll cares deeply for Tav. And he believes in Tav, even when Tav doesn’t believe in themselves. ‘You can resist this, you will resist this.’ 

Wyll has no intentions of going anywhere. Addiction or sobriety, he and Tav are a team. Wyll sees Tav as a great hero: he knows they can fight to save themselves. ‘You are the strongest person I know. Nevertheless, you do not have to shoulder this burden alone.’ 

Halsin: 

Halsin is the least likely to have any shared experience when it comes to dealing with addiction. He has fought off depression and hopelessness time and time again but he knows not of the pitfalls addiction brings. Having lived as long as he has, there’s no doubt he’s met those suffering from such afflictions. And being a druid, he may even have been consulted on how best to treat them. But that’s the end of Halsin’s experience. 

If Tav has an issue, any issue, Halsin is more than willing to help Tav navigate it. After all, Tav helped him save the shadowlands from their darkness. There is no ask too great, Halsin could never say no to aiding Tav with a favor. To Halsin, Tav is a savior: they saved Emerald Grove, they saved Thaniel’s realm, hell, Tav saved all of Baldur’s Gate. Halsin feels he owes them unimaginable thanks. So it pains him greatly to know Tav is suffering. 

Halsin offers to use his abilities to help Tav ease their obsessive mind, and the nagging hunger addiction brings. Of course, druid magic alone is not enough to stop the urge from manifesting and whispering in Tav’s ear. Halsin offers to accompany Tav around town, to sort of supervise them, in his way. He won’t force Tav to change any of their decisions but he keeps a watchful eye almost like a doting father as he places a supportive hand on Tav’s shoulder each time they walk past a bar or tavern. 

Halsin knows he cannot control Tav’s actions, but he can influence the choices they make together as a duo. So long as he is at Tav’s side, Halsin will let his wise opinion be known. 

In their time outside of the city, Halsin takes time to educate Tav on the different flora and fauna found in Faerun. When they come across a plant used to ferment alcohol, Halsin explains the history of the process. Yes, wine and ale are examples of making use of what nature provides, but as with all other things, even nature must be consumed in moderation. Mother Nature blesses everyone with the ability to enjoy such pleasures, but that gift can double as a curse. It is a test of our restraint and humility to know when and where to indulge. 

Speaking of indulgence, Haslin would not recommend swapping one appetite for another, but should Tav want to bide their time engaging in an alternative pleasure, Halsin would be more than happy to oblige. Physical activity and sweating would help relieve Tav’s body of some of the toxins built up within their system. In addition, such activity provides a temporary release of euphoria in the body and brain, which would help combat the pain and despondence that come with withdrawal. ‘If I can provide you with the least bit of comfort. It’s no hardship from me. Far from it.’ 

In the case Halsin leaves Tav for a time to settle the newly displaced within Thaniel's healed realm, he does what he can to ensure his new village is a place of continued healing and sobriety for Ta. Halsin privately enlightens all of the other adults within his new settlement about Tav’s condition. He asks them, respectfully, to refrain from providing Tav with any alcohol or other substances whenever Tav comes to visit. 

Halsin does all within his power to let Tav know they are not alone in their journey, and that no matter the setbacks along the way, he intends to bolster Tav through it all. ‘You are by far nature’s greatest gift to me. No matter the foe, be it the shadows or the dependency within your mind, could ever keep me from you.’ 

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[sebadztian]

So, uh, I'm sure that this must've been brought up before, but I don't know where to find the text.

I think, UT's final goal is to stuff o!Ciel's soul into r!Ciel's body.

At this point of time, we can safely assume that this Bizarre Dolls (BD) project has been going on for quite a number of years.

UT has salvaged r!Ciel's body from the fire three years ago, so he must've known then what he wanted to do with it.

Let's review the progression of the BD...

In the Campania arc, they were nothing but mindless zombie who craves brain soul.

But in the flashback, we were shown that r!Ciel was also on-board and he looked much more... advanced than those zombie-like creature. So, I think those zombies were created specially for the purpose of military experiment on unstoppable army, just like what he's told o!Ciel, Seb, Grell, and Ron.

Then there were Agares, Arden, and the other students in Public School arc (which will air next April! 😁). They were all BDs, but they were at different stages. Agares, clumsy as he was, has managed to perform day-to-day tasks, including leading several school ceremonies. I wonder why UT has made the others the way they were. If he'd made them like Agares, then the Queen wouldn't have been suspicious and she wouldn't have sent o!Ciel there.

(but then we wouldn't get to see Professor Michaelis, so I'm glad that UT has done it this way)

Back to the point...

During Bard's mini-arc, we learned that the BD has evolved even further than we thought. Layla has two souls stuffed inside one body. I don't know if "Al" has always been a part of her or if the other soul/personality had been stuffed into her body when she was 'revived', but this shows that it is possible to have two souls/'person' in one body.

Which brings me back to my initial point, about the twins.

UT has said it himself that he doesn't want to lose another Phantomhive. I don't know what his relationship is with the family, and I won't talk about that in this post. What I want to talk about is why he's salvaged r!Ciel's body and why it has to be done this way.

I mean, if you think about it, he could've just focused on protecting o!Ciel. He's shown that he's more than capable to match Seb in combat, or even defeat the demon. He could've just 'rescue' o!Ciel from Sebastian and be done with it. But why must he use r!Ciel's body?

It's about preservation.

He said that he's aged r!Ciel's body to match o!Ciel. It implies that he can also stop the ageing process, which, if you want to preserve a life, it would be the best way to go about it because a human body will eventually fail itself when it gets old & frail enough.

But a BD is different. They're strong, they can be aged when needed, or kept at their current age. If r!Ciel's physical form continues to be grown and aged until it reaches young adulthood and then UT stopped the ageing process, then potentially, that body could be immortal.

But it's still missing one key ingredient, the soul.

Now, I write this under the assumption that Seb has consumed r!Ciel's soul. Which makes this BD soulless.

This is where o!Ciel comes in. He still has his soul, so by combining the two (r!Ciel's body & o!Ciel's soul, UT can create a 'whole' person, strong & immortal).

But what if Sebastian has lied and he hasn't actually consumed r!Ciel's soul? Then that's when Layla situation would happen, that there would be two souls inside r!Ciel's body.

But Badz, why not just make o!Ciel a BD?

If some of you read my coffin post from months ago, I talked about how UT has prepared a special coffin for o!Ciel, one that he might use to preserve o!Ciel's body. So, why doesn't he just take him from Sebastian and keep him?

Because if r!Ciel's BD ever failed or stopped working, then UT would need a spare body to stuff the soul into.

At their current state, BD is still imperfect and he needs more time to work on r!Ciel's body and how to create the perfect BD. If he took o!Ciel prematurely, both bodies might fail him and he wouldn't have any Phantomhive left to work on.

UT has never been shy to express his dislike of the queen and what she's making o!Ciel do, what kind of danger she has put him in.

Which is another reason why he hasn't really tried to take the boy from Sebastian. Or to kill the demon.

What he didn't say was "... until the day that I'd take him from you."

He knows that as long as o!Ciel has Sebastian by his side, the boy will be safe because Sebastian is contractually bound to protect him. He actually trusts a demon to keep o!Ciel's soul safe because he knows of a demon's nature, how protective they could be of their 'meals'.

This is just my own take on UT and his end goal. Think of it as a headcanon or something like that. This is based on my own assumption.

At this point, all of us are in the dark of what could've been his motive. I'm just trying to have some fun while reading the manga, so please don't come to my post and attack me if you disagree with me.

Thank you!

[xstarlightxstarbrightx]

Lumi headcanons

i have dragged myself outta the hell that's been my weekend and have FINALLY cobbled together all of my thoughts abt Lumine,,, it's a lot so bear w/ me bc i love her so so so much. the big list of h/c's: - extroverted lumi,,, - tired older sister / mom of Paimon. Paimon may know more about Teyvat than Lumine does, but Lumine's the one who takes care of Paimon and guides her through the harder things in life; definitely gives the vibes of Paimon being a kid sister and Lumine being very protective of her. somewhat mother but also not??? definitely the adult between the two smh - incredibly smart. very perceptive with a lotta intuition. i mean, you need to be able to be quick on the draw if you're going to be traveling nonstop, y'know?? - paragon Lumi is my roman empire. - frugal as SHIT, penny pincher extraordinaire. Paimon has yet to find all the emergency funds, and Lumine is adamant on KEEPING it that way. - abandonment issues. listen,,, listen she's got em, we all know she does, and i feel like she gets very attached to people but doesn't really let them know. - stemming from abandonment issues, I feel like she's got this issue of putting the weight of the world on her shoulders? like she cannot let herself feel negative emotions and bottles up a lot of the bad shit she deals with. her belief is that if she's not being a positive force, she's failing everyone around her and they'll one day leave her behind. - adding onto that bit, it definitely shows through the fact that she's not quick to actually anger. like her anger is VERY VERY rare, and usually she's very relaxed and tries to work through things as calmly as possible. - despite lumi being slow to anger, she's def violent in a mischievous gremlin way. definitely gives the vibe of 'u called me short, i am consuming ur knee caps'. But this is more of a bit and something to do as an intimidation tactic for ppl who don't know her, and it feels very accurate tbh - Lumi is bilingual, nothing more needs to be said. - she has scars. like a few of em, too. Mostly from her adventures in Teyvat, since she's less durable than she's used to being??? She has some scars from her fight against Dvalin, a scar or two from fighting Childe, a LOT of scars from Inazuma, as well as scars from using the elements!! - on the topic of scars, i DO believe she has scars from losing her wings in the fight with the Unknown God. and like, this hurts her. she feels such intense guilt over what happened and how she failed to protect her brother. she would gladly boast to you about any of her scars, but if you mention the ones on her back, she gets,,, quiet,,,, - i have done a deep dive dissection of the differences between the twin's elemental animations, and one day i will post that i swear; but for now all imma say is that Lumi struggles w/ Geo element the most. - fear of failure! i mentioned it before, but I personally feel like this has such a huge affect on her? - speaking of fears; CLAUSTROPHOBIA! listen, lumi definitely feels like she'd be claustrophobic, can't handle tight spaces. she also is terrified of the Abyss specifically, but tight spaces? unable to move? feeling trapped???? yeah, she's got that besties. - she feels like such a mom sometimes i s2g. like some of these characters feels like characters she would call her kids teasingly. personally believe Bennett called her "mom" once and he hasn't been able to live it down since b/c she refuses to answer to anything else from him now. - protective Lumi is my favorite, nothing more to add. - Lumine is very dancer-like in a lot of her animations, so me personally i think she would be a good dancer ong. - GOD tiered Cook, she's so fuckin good at that shit, like girl can crack just about any damn recipe she gets.

OKAY,,, I THINK,,,,,,,,,,,, I THINK I GOT THEM ALL DOWN,,,,,,,,,,

this went way longer than i meant, the brain worms ate through my skull and i got very carried away. but also it feels good to have the general gist of it all down,,, my beloved lumine i adore u so so much,,,,

anyway these were my h/c's for Lumi, i'll work on Kaeya next i think b/c i have Many Thoughts (tm) on him. :)c