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sweet7simple · 4 months

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Mech Pregnancy, Cybertronian biology and the gestation system, and what I like to call the Gestational Protocols

(A sparkling has two parts: The spark and the birth metal).

I have written about mech pregnancy before and that actually went really well! It got over a hundred notes, my most popular post ever.

So I thought, why stop? I love reproductive science. I love science fiction. I want to develop this more.

I spent more than five hours drawing and labeling and I am not fully pleased with it, but I am just pleased enough and tired enough to show you all what I am thinking.

If mech pregnancy, breeding, world building and/or messy hand drawings bring you joy, check below the cut!

(When I say I drew these by hand, I mean I drew them by hand).

(Note: When I mention a CPU, I am referring to a Central Processing Unit, otherwise known as the brain module.)

The codpiece: A goddamn problem. They can transform into transportation, though, so moving a codpiece out of the way surely has to be doable for them.

The valve: It has very large and noticeable exterior energy node and the reason for this is to indicate charge. We see the portus majora, or the larger port from the outside. If we spread these folds, we'll see the portus minora, or the smaller port. The portus minora is where the interior node system begins. Within the portus minora is the valve entrance, which gives way to the valve sleeve.

The spike: It can be modified or replaced, but the design has to be such that it can collapse in on itself and fit inside of the housing. Whatever your personal preference, the plug (the head of the spike) should expand outward in some way for reasons I will explain shortly. The plug is densely populated with small interior nodes while the cord or cable (the shaft of the spike) is sparsely populated with large exterior nodes. This makes the plug more sensitive. When the cable drains of its gel (which is recycled back into the system via a pressurizer fluid reservoir), these exterior nodes sink into depressions within the interlocking segments so that they don't snag on the housing rim when depressurized.

Note: In the diagrams, I call the nodes "energy nodes". There is a reason for that, but it's not necessarily necessary to the system.

Let me explain: I wrote a story where the nodes captured energy from the friction of the spike's external nodes striking against the valve's internal nodes and then that energy was sent to the spark chamber as a backup source of power during spark merging as spark merging dispersed energy and thereby diminished the sparks.

They don't have to be energy nodes, though. Those fun little goodie spots that create so much pleasure don't have to have a dual purpose. They can just be sensory nodes connected to the sensory net, a subsystem of the neural net.

When it comes to spark merging, I use stellar collision to visualize it. Here is a Youtube video that shows the collapse of a binary stellar system that pretty much sums up what I think happens, but on a much smaller scale: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zsIMDKMKUWw

The result of the spark merging, however is that a third body is generated from the collision. This third body is created from the intense heat and energy of the spark merging, and from the fragmented copies of life codes duplicated during the spark merge. This is the sparkling. When its creators' sparks retreat to their own chambers, the sparkling will attach to the creator that is receiving transfluid (I will explain shortly).

A form of gestation control includes putting a shunt on the spark chamber to disperse the foreign energy body.

2. The birthing conduit is what it says it is. Once the sparkling has created its own life code, it will descend down the conduit and join with its birth metal, or sentio metallico, in the gestation tank.

3. The gestation tank is where the birth metal is produced from the metal alloy particles carried in transfluid and the energon provided by the carrier. You can also think of it as a crucible furnace, which is used for melting metals in small quantities within a foundry. The crucible is the innermost cavity where the birth metal is made. That crucible is lined with a layer of refractory material, which withstands high heat. That refractory material is going to keep that crucible hot enough to maintain the birth metal as a liquid without melting the protoform layer between the refractory material and the outer shell of the tank.

So the layers from outermost to innermost are :

Outer shell -> protoform layer -> refractory material -> crucible

Also, I move to call the carrier creator a foundry now because I love that word so much. The Google definition for a foundry is a workshop or factory for casting metal. It just sounds so good.

"Hey, First Aid, is Ratchet your foundry?"

"No, but I get that a lot."

I can't think of an equally cool word to replace the term "sire".

4. The valve sleeve is a semi-permeable layer of elastic protoform that can stretch to a certain degree. The interior nodes are within this protoform layer and creates a bumpy texture. As already discussed the sleeve is self-lubricating. I am starting to realize that I labeled this diagram horribly, but please bear with me.

5. Calipers! They in all the sticky sexual interface stories. I just imagine them as these segmented, arm-like extensions that squeeze and relax depending on stimulation. In fanfiction, they have a habit of "cycling down" whenever stimulated. What I love about calipers is that they do set a minimum and maximum range of flexibility for the sleeve. With calipers, there is such a thing as being too small (the calipers can only tighten so much) or too big (the calipers can only loosen so much). They are synonymous to the pelvic floor muscles in a human that makes a vagina contract and relax, but they just make me think of pussy bones. You have to be careful not to break them.

6. THIS IS MY FAVORITE PART. Here is where the valve sleeve meets the gestation tank. There are two orifices: The tank cap and the lockring. The tank cap is where your mech is going to put some kind of seal as a form of gestation control. If a spike can't get into the gestation tank, then there is no birth metal. If there is no birth metal, a signal will be sent to the mech's CPU and then to the spark chamber to disperse the potential sparkling. How the tank cap is removed depends on how you want it removed. If you want a screw-in cap, then that cap will have to be removed via an invasive procedure (otherwise known as we're going to have to stick this instrument up your valve and twist the cap open and then we have to pull out the cap). If you want almost any other kind of seal or door, you can hypothetically just send a signal from the CPU to the neural net attached to the gestation system and have that seal slide out of the way into a depression within the rim of the gestation tank.

BUT THAT LOCKRING, THOUGH. This is why your spike needs to have a plug that expands to some degree.

Once that cap is out of the way, the mech's spike is going to pop through that lockring, sticking their plug directly in their partner's gestation tank. I like to call this "plugging the tank". Once that plug is in that tank, a signal is going to hit the CPU to start up GESTATIONAL PROTOCOLS. More on that at the end.

That lockring is going to cycle down just behind the plug, tight enough that the spike can't pull out without being too tight.

The purpose of this is to ensure that the gestation tank is filled up with transfluid. The lockring will only cycle open once the tank is full or once sensors within the tank indicate that the flow of transfluid has stopped for a certain amount of time (meaning that there is no more transfluid to be had, even if the tank isn't full yet).

It's a reverse knot! Instead of having a spike that knots, we get a valve that locks! I love it so.

7. The energy - or sensory - nodes are part of a positive feedback loop, meaning that "the product of a reaction leads to an increase in that reaction" (https://www.albert.io/blog/positive-negative-feedback-loops-biology/). In this case, pleasure created from stimulating those nodes (such as friction) encourages more stimulation, which creates more pleasure, which encourages more stimulation, until the loop breaks. What breaks this loop is overloading the sensory net or removing the friction.

When we state that the valve is self-lubricating, you can decide for yourself how it does that. The trick is making sure that the mech can can replace their own lubricant when necessary. One system is to have lubricant be a type of consequence from energon circulation.

Humans self-lubricate their vaginas in several different ways and one of them is that the vagina is somewhat permeable. Plasma (the liquid part of blood) is able to discharge from the bloodstream through the walls of the vagina.

Or perhaps your lubricant comes from the same reservoir as the transfluid for your spike. Since the valve sleeve is only somewhat permeable, the metal alloy particles in your transfluid can't get through. What does leak through is the fluid medium that the metal alloy particles reside in.

The plug is itself not an interlocking segment because the plug, as explained, has to expand so that the lockring can tighten between the plug and the topmost interlocking segment. If the plug is smaller than the interlocking segment behind it, then the lockring will either not tighten enough or will tighten too much. Instead, the plug has an outer protoform layer that is expanded with the same pressurizer fluid that fills the spike. In the diagram above, we see the spike, the spike housing that the spike has to depressurize to fit inside of, and at least three different connections at the bottom. One of these connections bundles the wires for the sensory net and attaches to the neural net.

The bottommost connection is to the pressurizer fluid reservoir. When the spike is pressurized, the reservoir compresses and fills the matrix within the spike to give it its form and rigidity. When the spike depressurizes, the reservoir decompresses as it fills with fluid.

The connection that has a dashed line going all the way up the spike connects the transfluid reservoir to the transfluid line (signified by the dashed line) and out the plug. The transfluid reservoir is actually pressed against the outside of the valve!

So it is possible to bang a mech's valve so good that they leak transfluid all over themselves because you are more or less hitting their reservoir with every thrust. You just have to get the angle right or else you're hitting the sleeve calipers and that might not be as fun.

The Gestational Protocols:

This has turned into a very, very long post. I have been working on it for nine hours now between drawing the diagrams, writing the post, and checking with Google to make sure my science isn't horrifically, unforgivably wrong (I could be using the positive feedback loop wrong, but I don't think I am).

So let me wrap this up with the Gestational Protocols. It's like a mech heat fic, actually, except the heat is very short and starts toward the end of sticky sexual interfacing.

For this scenario, Ratchet and Drift want to produce a sparkling. Because Drift is concerned about Ratchet's health, they decide that Drift should be the foundry. Drift has his tank cap removed beforehand.

They're having a great time, creating all the good friction, lighting up their sensory net like a growing fire. Drift is charged up, Ratchet is charged up, and they're about to hit that overload.

Drift's lockring is cycled all the way open. His calipers are trying to pull Ratchet closer. When Ratchet knows he can't hold on any longer, he pushes as deep as he can go. There's a small moment of resistance when his plug meets the lockring and then he pops through. The lockring cycles down and he's stuck. There's no pulling out now.

Ratchet told Drift what to expect from the gestational protocols, but it wasn't enough. The moment Ratchet is locked in place, a signal is sent from his gestation system to his CPU: Gestational protocols initiated...

His cache memory crashes. He has no past or present or future. He has no idea there was a war lasting millions of years. He doesn't even know what a Cybertron is. Programs are halted, tasks are paused, processing units block external input. Hydraulics fall to the lowest power possible. His frame goes completely limp.

Drift no longer exists. He is now a foundry. He is the function of his gestation system. His CPU has a primary and secondary task: Primary is to maintain the protocols and secondary is to reward Drift for maintaining the protocols.

As long as he lays there and lets Ratchet fill him up, he's fulfilling his primary task. Because it's so easy to let Ratchet fill him up, his neural net rewards him with pleasure and feel-good signals. He is riding a type of euphoria that is thoughtless bliss from the tips of his pedes to the tops of his finials.

A task pops up in his CPU, but he doesn't have the processing power to interpret it. He accepts without caring. He experiences his chest plates cracking open without actually seeing it or hearing it. His system rewards him for accepting the prompt, so he still doesn't care. His spark chamber opens next and he is thrown into the intense, beautiful pleasure-agony of having his spark collide with another mech's spark.

He doesn't remember who this other mech is, but Drift loves them. They're filling Drift up so well, both his tank and his spark. He's so full. He's being such a good foundry. He's receiving all those good neural and sensory signals and he's fuzzy/fizzy with joy.

The spark merge ends after several collisions and spirals. Drift loves every moment of it, and also loves it when his spark returns to its chamber. Now his spark feels swollen and his CPU registers a foreign body. There is a potential sparkling attached to his core. Chances are very good that this potential sparkling will not disperse.

His CPU rewards him with another rush of emotional glee and pride. He's sparked! He did so well, laying there and letting himself get sparked. He's a great foundry. He's the best foundry to ever get sparked. No one has ever been or will ever be as well-behaved as he was.

A notification hits his CPU and he doesn't even try to understand it. Apparently, it's the notification for his tank being full. A second notification and his lockring relaxes. He is deliciously, fully aware of a thick spike dragging across his oversensitive interior nodes, sending one last wave of hot, crackling pleasure through his frame.

Another notification. He doesn't read it. A task pops up. He accepts lazily.

The notification was that the gestational protocols had been completed. The task was to enter a soft reboot. Drift slips into recharge feeling like his only purpose in life is to embody pleasure and creation.

He wakes up feeling swollen and sloshy.

Ratchet is smiling down at him.

"Am I...? Are we...?"

Ratchet stroked a servo across his chest plates. "It's early still. The spark might disperse. But chances are looking good. We're sparked, kid."

And that is how I imagine the Gestational Protocols going: You get your tank plugged and then nothing matters but getting filled up with a sparkling.

Thank you for reading my book-length discussion! Please feel free to interact with me.

I have been working on this for ten hours now. I should proofread, but I am not going to at this time.

EDIT: I was in the shower when I realized I forgot something important - where does the protoform's first colony of nanites come from?

@earthstellar explains here (https://www.tumblr.com/earthstellar/659541951144738816/transformers-medical-analysis-essay-what-are?source=share) what Cybertronians use nanites for, including construction and self-repair. So we can readily assume that the protoform needs a nanites colony.

I'll tell you where the new spark's nanites came from: Their foundry's valve.

Humans do the same thing. We pick up friendly bacteria from the vagina we come out of.

That is all I had to add. Remember to start your protoform off right with a healthy nanite colony.

#mech preg #Mech pregnancy #cybertronian biology #transformers #macaddam #tf comics #world building #valveplug

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artist-issues · 5 months

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I saw the steven universe post of yours and I am wondering about something.

Are you actually, honestly happy?

You seem very sure that happiness can only come from perfectly following your religion's teaching about what your god wants people to do. If that truly makes you happy every day I don't think anyone can convince you that it doesn't hold true for everyone else.

I’m joyful. Happiness is fleeting. It’s a good thing but it’s dependent on your circumstances. Joy isn’t. Joy is a posture of the heart that comes from knowing who I am and where I’m going, in Jesus Christ.

Joy doesn’t come from “perfectly following my religion’s teaching about what my god wants people to do.” It’s really important that you understand that.

It just comes from having a relationship with the One who made me and saved me. I fail to follow the Bible’s (not “my religion’s,” because when you say “your religion” you’re implying one man-made set of rules out of many I could’ve chosen from, and that’s not what the Bible is) teaching all the time. I fail to do what He wants every single day.

If I were just focused on following rules and making sure everyone else toes the line, too, I’d be miserable. There are worldviews like that. But the Biblical worldview isn’t one of them.

Ephesians says “It is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God—not by works, so that no one can boast.” Not by works. I can’t measure up or follow all the rules or obey God perfectly; nobody can—except Jesus! That’s the point. When God looks at me and loves me, He does it because of what Jesus did for me on the cross. So anything I do that falls short? It’s covered. And I’m loved perfectly; God never loves me less, or bases His affection toward me on how good or bad I do day-to-day.

And in the meantime, He changes what I want, but by bit, so that I get back to who I was always meant to be; His creation, made for love. I love Him, and His people, more and more every day. I stop thinking so much about me. There’s all this freedom, because I don’t have to do any of it alone. And, I’m forgiven, and loved, and adopted, and no circumstance or person in the world can take that from me, ever.

That’s where joy comes from. Real joy, that is not dependent on anything that changes. Sometimes I still get unhappy. Sometimes I get trapped in a cycle of overthinking and anxiety and even depression—but it has not lasted, and it never can. Because the moment I reach out for help, He’s there, reminding me of who I am in Him, lifting my eyes up off of my circumstances or out of my dark thoughts, by helping me focus on Him.

A lot of people find this kind of “higher than my circumstances” emotion in “something bigger than themselves.” The difference is, mine is eternal, and it lasts, and it never gets corrupted. I’m talking about the God of the Bible and a relationship with Him, not the religious imperfect humans of religion. Human movements get corrupted, religious or secular. Human nations fall. Human families or lovers change and die. All those “something bigger than myself” sources for happiness eventually go away. Not a relationship with God.

So hopefully I’ve answered the spirit of your question. It might help you to know that in my reblogs to that post, I’ve mentioned that God let’s you choose. You can either choose to be His, and be what He made you to be, or you can insist that something else will make you happy and keep chasing that. He lets you do that. But in the end, nothing else except Him lasts. And by end, I mean, “THE end.” Life goes on past this. And if you end this life choosing to chase temporary things for happiness in sources outside of the God that invented Good and Happy, you’ll spend eternity outside of Good and Happy, because you chose to spend it without their Source.

So when I made that post, I made it because I believe that Rebecca Sugar made Steven Universe and infused what she thinks the God of the Bible is like into the character of White Diamond. But she has Him all wrong. I know Him, and He’s not like that, but I can see how someone who doesn’t know Him would come to those conclusions.

So it’s like if someone who barely knew your best friend made a vital skit on Instagram about your best friend…and it was all wrong. They slandered your best friend—and what’s worse, they did it because they never really understood your best friend, and don’t have a relationship with your best friend, and you know that if they did they not only wouldn’t have made the skit, but they would get the blessing of having a friend like your bestie.

I hope some of this has answered your question. Thank you for taking the time to send it, and maybe to read this long response.

#Feels like it comes from a genuine place #asked #answered #my Steven universe post #christianity #joy #my one comfort both in life and death

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tosomeonessomeone · 8 months

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sunshine.

words・5.5k /pairings・Chanbin x reader / genres・fluff, angst / warnings・ mentions of depression.

You've been friends with Chanbin from Stray Kids for quite a while now. Your paths crossed unexpectedly, intertwining your lives in a beautiful symphony of friendship and shared passion. You, a renowned photographer, capturing moments frozen in time, and him, a charismatic KPop idol, captivating hearts with his mesmerizing talent.

Through late-night conversations and spontaneous adventures, you discovered the beauty of friendship in its purest form - a bond forged in the crucible of shared experiences and unwavering trust. Whether it was exploring hidden gems in the city or simply basking in the quiet moments of companionship, you and Chanbin found refuge in each other's company, a sanctuary amidst the chaos of fame and recognition.

As the years passed and your careers soared to new heights, the foundation of your friendship remained unshakeable, a constant reminder of the power of connection in a world driven by superficiality. And as you stood side by side, gazing at the horizon of endless possibilities, you knew that no matter where life's journey took you, Chanbin would always be more than just a friend - he would be a beacon of light guiding you through the darkest of nights, a testament to the enduring power of friendship in the ever-changing landscape of fame and fortune.

*days full of laughter*

As you walk into the cozy café, the familiar sight of Chanbin greets you with a warm smile. He waves you over to the corner booth, where he's already seated, a cup of steaming coffee in hand.

"Hey, [Your Name], So glad you could make it," Chanbin exclaims, his eyes lighting up with genuine excitement.

"Hi, Chanbin! Wouldn't miss it for the world," you reply, sliding into the seat opposite him.

The air fills with laughter as memories flood back, reminding you of all the times Chanbin was there for you through thick and thin.

"So, what's new with you?" Chanbin asks, leaning in with genuine interest.

You chuckle, knowing there's always something interesting to share when Chanbin's around. "Oh, you know, the usual. Just wrapped up a big photoshoot downtown. It was intense, but we got some incredible shots."

Chanbin's eyes widen with curiosity. "I bet! Your work is always top-notch. Any sneak peeks you can show me?"

You reach for your phone, scrolling through the gallery until you find the perfect shot. "Here you go! Check this out. I managed to capture the essence of the city at sunset. It's like magic."

Chanbin's expression lights up as he studies the photo, nodding in approval. "Wow, that's amazing! You've really outdone yourself this time."

The conversation flows effortlessly as you reminisce about past adventures and shared experiences. Each anecdote brings a wave of laughter, filling the air with an infectious energy that's impossible to resist.

Suddenly, Chanbin's phone buzzes with a notification, and he lets out a laugh as he reads the message. "Oh man, you won't believe what just happened. Remember that time we got lost trying to find that hidden karaoke bar?"

You burst into laughter, the memory flooding back in vivid detail. "How could I forget? We wandered around for hours, only to end up singing our hearts out in that tiny little room."

Chanbin grins, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Good times, Sunshine. Good times."

As the afternoon stretches into evening, you realize just how lucky you are to have Chanbin by your side. Through the laughter and the tears, the highs and the lows, he's always been there for you, a constant source of joy and inspiration.

And as you raise your glasses in a toast to friendship, you know that no matter what the future holds, Chanbin will always be more than just a friend – he'll be family.

*days where he felt overwhelmed*

As you open the door to your house, you're met with the sight of Chanbin standing on your doorstep, his shoulders slumped and his expression weary. You can see the weight of his hectic schedule written across his face, and it breaks your heart to see him so overwhelmed.

"Hey, Binnie," you say softly, stepping aside to let him in. "Come on in. I'm glad you're here."

Chanbin offers a tired smile as he steps into the warmth of your home. "Thanks, Sunshine. Sorry for showing up unannounced. I just needed to get away from everything for a bit."

You shake your head, understanding flooding your heart. "No need to apologize. You're always welcome here. Let's get you settled."

As you lead Chanbin to the living room, you can see the tension slowly melting away from his features. He sinks into the couch with a grateful sigh, his exhaustion evident in every line of his body.

"So, how's everything going?" you ask gently, taking a seat beside him.

Chanbin lets out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. "Honestly, it's been crazy. Between rehearsals, interviews, and all the other stuff going on, I feel like I'm drowning in my own schedule."

Your heart goes out to him, knowing how hard he works to pursue his passion. "I can't even imagine. But hey, you're not alone in this. I'm here for you, okay?"

Chanbin's eyes meet yours, gratitude shining in their depths. "Thanks, Sunshine. I really appreciate it."

Determined to lighten the mood, you rack your brain for something to lift Chanbin's spirits. Suddenly, an idea strikes you.

"How about we forget about schedules and responsibilities for a while?" you suggest, a spark of excitement igniting within you. "Let's order some takeout, binge-watch your favorite K-drama, and just relax."

A hint of a smile tugs at the corners of Chanbin's lips. "That sounds amazing, actually. I could definitely use a break."

Together, you order food and settle in for a cozy evening of laughter and relaxation. As the hours pass, the weight of Chanbin's worries seems to fade away, replaced by the simple joy of being in the moment with a friend.

As you bid Chanbin goodbye later that evening, you can see a lightness in his step that wasn't there before. And as you watch him disappear into the night, you know that no matter what challenges lie ahead, you'll always be there to support him, one Netflix binge at a time.

*days with subtle confessions*

As you and Chanbin sit on the bench, the evening breeze carries a sense of calmness, wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. The sun's golden rays cast a warm glow over the serene lake, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink.

"You know, moments like these make all the chaos in the world seem insignificant," Chanbin muses, his gaze fixed on the tranquil waters.

You nod in agreement, feeling a surge of gratitude for the simplicity of the moment. "Absolutely. It's moments like these that remind us of what truly matters."

There's a pause in the conversation, a fleeting moment of silence that speaks volumes. In the stillness of the evening, you feel a tug at your heartstrings, an unspoken connection that binds you to Chanbin in ways words could never express.

As you watch the sun dip lower on the horizon, casting long shadows across the landscape, Chanbin turns to you, his eyes reflecting the fading light.

"[Your name], I've always felt... at ease when I'm with you," he says softly, his words carrying a weight that lingers in the air.

You meet his gaze, feeling a rush of emotions welling up inside you. In that moment, it's as if time stands still, suspended in the space between heartbeats.

"I know what you mean." you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. "Being with you... it just feels right."

A gentle smile spreads across Chanbin's face, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that exists between you. In the quiet intimacy of the evening, your unspoken confession hangs in the air, unnoticed by the world around you but felt deeply in the depths of your souls.

And as you sit together, basking in the fading light of the day, you know that some truths are best left unsaid, hidden in the subtle nuances of a shared moment that speaks volumes without uttering a single word.

*days where you would give in his wishes*

Chanbin bursts into your living room with an exuberant grin, a gym bag slung over his shoulder. "Hey there, Sunshine! Ready for a workout?"

You stare at him in disbelief, your mind still groggy from the early hour. "Chanbin, are you serious? It's 8 a.m."

He waves off your protests with a playful smirk. "Come on! It'll be fun, I promise. Plus, it's a great way to start the day."

You sigh, knowing there's no arguing with Chanbin when he's set his mind to something. "Fine, but only because you're so persistent."

With a triumphant grin, Chanbin leads the way out the door, his energy infectious even in the early hours of the morning.

As you step into the gym, the sound of weights clanging and music blaring assaults your senses. Chanbin seems right at home, chatting with the regulars and setting up equipment with practiced ease.

You hang back, feeling out of place amidst the sea of toned bodies and bustling activity. But as you watch Chanbin move with grace and determination, a warmth fills your heart.

"Come here, [Your name]. Let's start with some light stretching," Chanbin calls out, beckoning you over to join him.

Reluctantly, you follow his lead, the movements feeling awkward and unfamiliar at first. But as Chanbin guides you through the exercises, his touch gentle and reassuring, you begin to relax into the rhythm of the workout.

With each stretch and lift, you feel your muscles awaken, a sense of strength and vitality coursing through your veins. And as you steal glances at Chanbin, his determination and passion evident in every movement, you realize something surprising.

You're actually enjoying yourself.

As the workout comes to an end, you're surprised to find yourself feeling invigorated and alive, the rush of endorphins leaving you buzzing with energy.

"See? I told you it would be fun," Chanbin says, his smile wide and infectious.

You can't help but return his grin, feeling a sense of gratitude for his unwavering enthusiasm and encouragement.

"Thanks, Binnie. I needed that more than I realized," you admit, your voice filled with sincerity.

Chanbin's smile softens, a warmth in his eyes that speaks volumes. "Anytime, Sunshine. You know I'll always be here to drag you to the gym kicking and screaming if I have to."

As you and Chanbin head home, the sun rising in the sky and the world coming alive around you, you can't help but feel grateful for the unexpected moments of joy and connection that he brings into your life.

*days like shit that end up good*

You trudge through the door, the weight of the day's failures heavy on your shoulders. The failed photoshoot, the malfunctioning camera, and the lingering feeling of inadequacy weigh on your mind like a suffocating blanket.

Just as you're about to sink onto the couch, you freeze in your tracks. There, in the dimly lit room, stands Chanbin, a small cake adorned with flickering candles in his hands.

"Surprise!" he exclaims, his voice filled with genuine excitement.

You blink in disbelief, your tired mind struggling to process the unexpected sight before you. "Chanbin, what... what's all this?"

Chanbin's smile widens, his eyes alight with mischief. "Well, I know you're not a big fan of birthdays, but I couldn't let the day pass without doing something special for you."

Your heart swells with gratitude, a warm feeling spreading through your chest despite the heaviness of the day. "Chanbin, I... I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything, [Your name]. Just blow out the candles and make a wish," Chanbin urges, his voice gentle yet firm.

Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes and make a silent wish, your heart whispering words of hope and renewal.

As you blow out the candles, Chanbin begins to sing, his voice filling the room with warmth and melody. The familiar tune of "Happy Birthday" washes over you like a soothing balm, easing the tension that has gripped your soul all day.

When he finishes singing, you open your eyes to find Chanbin's gaze fixed on you, his expression filled with a mixture of tenderness and affection.

"Thank you, Chanbin. This... this means more to me than you'll ever know," you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Chanbin smiles, a softness in his eyes that speaks volumes. "Anytime, Sunshine. I know today wasn't the best, but I wanted to remind you that even on your worst days, you're loved and cherished."

Touched by his words, you feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. In that moment, surrounded by flickering candlelight and the gentle hum of friendship, you realize that even in the darkest of times, there are rays of light to guide you home.

As you and Chanbin share the cake, laughter and warmth filling the room, you know that no matter what challenges lie ahead, you'll always have a friend who's willing to go the extra mile to make your world a little brighter.

*days when he would accept any thing you had in mind*

You pull out your phone, your fingers trembling slightly with anticipation as you dial Chanbin's number. After a few rings, he picks up, his voice warm and familiar on the other end of the line.

"Hey, Sunshine! What's up?" Chanbin greets you, his tone filled with genuine curiosity.

"Hey, Binnie! I have an idea I want to run by you," you reply, your excitement bubbling over despite your attempt to sound casual.

"Sure, shoot! What's on your mind?" Chanbin asks, his interest piqued.

"I was thinking... how about we do a photoshoot together?" you suggest, your voice tinged with excitement.

Chanbin's silence on the other end of the line is palpable, and for a moment, you worry that you've overstepped.

"A photoshoot? Like, in a studio?" Chanbin finally responds, his tone laced with curiosity.

You shake your head, even though he can't see you. "No, nothing like that. I was thinking more along the lines of capturing everyday moments, you know? Just you being you, doing normal things."

There's a pause as Chanbin considers your proposal, and for a moment, you hold your breath, waiting for his response.

"Oh, I love that idea," Chanbin says, his voice filled with enthusiasm. "It sounds like a refreshing change from the usual studio shoots."

Relief floods through you, a smile spreading across your face at his enthusiastic response. "Awesome! I was hoping you'd be up for it. When do you think you'll be free?"

Chanbin checks his schedule, the sound of shuffling papers faintly audible over the phone. "How about this weekend? I'm pretty free then. We can pick a few locations around the city and just go with the flow."

"Sounds perfect," you agree, your excitement building with each passing moment. "I can't wait to capture some amazing shots of you, Binnie."

"Likewise, Sunshine. It's gonna be a blast," Chanbin replies, his voice filled with anticipation.

*days where you had to be strong for him*

You find Chanbin sitting on the couch, his phone clutched tightly in his hand, his expression a mixture of frustration and sadness. As you approach him, you can see the tension radiating off him in waves.

"Hey, Binnie, what's going on?" you ask gently, taking a seat beside him.

Chanbin lets out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping with the weight of the world. "It's these hate comments, Sunshine. They just... they get to me sometimes."

Your heart sinks at the pain evident in his voice. You reach out, placing a comforting hand on his arm. "I'm sorry, Binnie. I know how hurtful those can be."

Chanbin shakes his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "I try not to let them get to me, but sometimes... it's like they're impossible to ignore. They make me doubt myself, doubt my worth as an artist."

You squeeze his arm gently, offering a silent gesture of support. "You're not alone. We all have moments of doubt. But remember, those comments don't define you. You're talented, passionate, and loved by so many."

Chanbin meets your gaze, his eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and pain. "Thanks, Sunshine. I needed to hear that."

As the evening wears on, Chanbin's frustration boils over, his voice tinged with anger and indignation. "Why do people have to be so cruel? What gives them the right to tear someone down like that?"

You listen quietly, letting him vent his frustrations, knowing that sometimes the best way to heal is to let the pain out.

But as the minutes pass, Chanbin's anger gives way to a profound sense of sadness, his voice trembling with emotion. "I just... I don't know how much longer I can keep doing this. It feels like no matter how hard I try, there's always someone out there ready to knock me down."

Your heart breaks for him, seeing the vulnerability in his eyes, the weight of the world pressing down on his shoulders.

"You're stronger than you know, Binnie," you say softly, your voice filled with conviction. "You've overcome so much already, and you'll continue to rise above the hate. You're not alone in this, remember that."

Chanbin leans into your embrace, his body trembling with the weight of his emotions. "Thank you, Sunshine. I don't know what I'd do without you."

You hold him close, feeling the warmth of his presence, the strength of your bond. In that moment, you know that no matter what challenges lie ahead, you'll face them together, hand in hand, heart to heart. And in that simple truth, you find solace, hope, and the unwavering power of love.

*and days like today where he was your rock*

Dark clouds loomed overhead, mirroring the tumultuous storm raging within you. The weight of depression pressed down on your shoulders, suffocating you with its relentless grip. Each breath felt like a struggle, each moment a battle against the darkness threatening to consume you whole.

Your phone rang, piercing through the silence of your desolate room. With trembling hands, you answered, only to hear the worried voice of Chanbin on the other end. His concern was palpable, their words a lifeline in the sea of despair.

“[Your name], I'm worried about you. We know things have been tough lately," He says, voice laced with genuine concern.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you struggled to find the words to respond. The weight of their worry only served to deepen the chasm of loneliness swallowing you whole.

But then, amidst the darkness, his voice cut through the despair like a beacon of light. "Hey, I'm coming over."

Chanbin. The mere mention of his name stirred something within you, a glimmer of hope in the midst of despair. You knew he was the one person who could understand, who could offer solace in your darkest hour.

As you waited, the rain began to fall in torrents, a relentless deluge that mirrored the storm raging within your soul. Each drop felt like a reminder of the tears you couldn't shed, the pain you couldn't escape.

The relentless drumming of rain against the windowpane echoed the tumultuous rhythm of your own heart. Each drop seemed to carry the weight of your sorrows, a relentless downpour of emotion cascading down upon you.

An inexplicable urge tugged at your soul, drawing you toward the terrace like a moth to a flame. With each step, the sound of rain grew louder, drowning out the cacophony of thoughts swirling within your mind.

Stepping out into the deluge, you were greeted by a torrential downpour that enveloped you in its embrace. Raindrops cascaded down your skin, mingling with the tears that streamed down your cheeks, until you could no longer distinguish between the two.

And as the storm raged on, you stood tall upon the terrace, a solitary figure amidst the chaos, finding solace in the simple act of surrendering to the rain. In its gentle embrace, you found peace, a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness, and the courage to face the dawn of a new day.

Heart pounding with dread, Chanbin dashed through the house, calling out your name in a frantic voice that echoed off the walls. Panic seized him as he realized you were nowhere to be found.

With trembling hands, he reached for his phone, fingers fumbling as he dialed your number. But the line remained eerily silent, your voice absent in the darkness.

His mind raced with fear and uncertainty as he bolted toward the terrace, each step heavy with dread. As he pushed open the door, his heart lurched at the sight before him.

There you stood, a solitary figure in the midst of the downpour, your nightgown clinging to your form, your hair plastered to your skin. The rain cascaded down your face, mingling with tears he could scarcely see in the dim light.

"[Your name]!" he called out, his voice cracking with emotion. But you remained motionless, lost in the storm raging within your soul.

With a surge of determination, Chanbin rushed to your side, his heart pounding with fear and relief. "Hey. Sunshine, it's me. Please, look at me."

He reached out, his hand trembling as he gently turned you toward him, searching your eyes for a glimmer of recognition amidst the turmoil.

For a moment, there was only the sound of rain, the weight of unspoken fears hanging heavy in the air. But then, as if awakening from a trance, you met his gaze, your eyes filled with a mixture of pain and relief.

"Chanbin," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper. "I... I'm sorry."

He enveloped you in his embrace, the warmth of his presence a lifeline in the darkness. "Don't be sorry, Sunshine. I was just so scared. I thought I had lost you."

Tears mingled with rain as you clung to each other, the storm raging around you a testament to the depths of your shared pain and the strength of your bond.

In the embrace of the storm, Chanbin held you close, his arms a shelter against the torrential rain that poured down around you. With each droplet that soaked through his clothes, he could care less about the discomfort, for you were more important than the heavy downpour.

Time seemed to stand still as you stood together, the world around you fading into insignificance as you clung to each other amidst the chaos. In that moment, it was as if the universe had conspired to bring you together, to offer solace in the midst of turmoil.

In the silence between heartbeats, there was an unspoken understanding, a shared recognition of the depths of your bond. Words were unnecessary in the language of the soul, for in that moment, everything you needed to say was conveyed in the warmth of your embrace.

As Chanbin gazed into your eyes, his own reflecting a mixture of fear and devotion, you felt the weight of his emotions wash over you like a tidal wave. In that moment, amidst the relentless downpour, you could sense his fear of losing you, his Sunshine, his beacon of light in the darkest of storms.

You reached out, gently brushing away the tears mingling with raindrops on his cheeks, your touch a silent reassurance of your presence by his side. Despite the turmoil raging within him, you could see the unwavering determination in his eyes, a testament to the depth of his love and his resolve to never let you slip away.

With gentle ease, Chanbin scooped you up bridal style, his strength a comforting anchor amidst the turmoil of emotions. As he carried you inside, his movements were fluid, his determination unwavering in his quest to ease your burdens.

Setting you down gently in the bathroom, he gazed into your eyes, his own filled with tenderness and concern. With a tender touch, he brushed a stray strand of wet hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear with a gentle reverence.

Leaning in, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips a whisper of warmth against your skin. In that moment, you felt a sense of calm wash over you, a quiet reassurance in the depths of his affection.

Turning his attention to the task at hand, Chanbin set about preparing a warm bath for you, his movements deliberate and methodical.

As the water filled the tub, steam rising in tendrils to envelop the room, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for Chanbin's unwavering presence in your life.

As Chanbin finished preparing the bath, he turned to you, ready to give you space, but you caught his shirt sleeve, halting his movement. His gaze softened as he met your eyes, sensing the depth of your need in that moment.

You took a deep breath, the weight of your emotions heavy in the air, and asked him in a voice barely above a whisper if he could stay with you. The vulnerability in your eyes spoke volumes, and Chanbin's heart swelled with a mixture of tenderness and resolve.

Without a word, he nodded, his expression filled with understanding and compassion. In that moment, he knew that you didn't need grand gestures or empty promises. All you needed was his presence, his unwavering support in the face of uncertainty and pain.

As you both stepped into the bathtub fully clothed, the water enveloping you in its warmth, Chanbin made you sit with your back resting agaist his chest. His hand found yours, fingers intertwining in a silent promise of solidarity and strength.

As the minutes stretched into eternity, you leaned into Chanbin's embrace, finding solace in the warmth of his touch. In his arms, you felt safe, cherished, and understood. And as you closed your eyes, allowing the weight of the world to melt away, you knew that with Chanbin by your side, you could weather any storm that came your way.

Once you were both clean and warm, Chanbin helped you out of the bath, his clothes and yours dripping with water. With a gentle touch, he wrapped a towel around you, the fabric warm and soft against your skin.

As he handed you another towel, his eyes filled with a quiet understanding, he turned away, giving you the privacy you needed to change into a clean and dry nightgown. His respect for your boundaries was a testament to the depth of his care, a reminder that he would always be there to support you, even in the smallest of gestures.

With trembling hands, you dried yourself off, the weight of the day still heavy on your shoulders. But as you slipped into the clean nightgown, the fabric soft against your skin, you felt a sense of renewal wash over you, a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness.

As Chanbin dried himself off and shed his wet clothes, he glanced around the bathroom, his eyes landing on your dresser where he knew you kept his emergency drawer full of clothes. With a knowing smile, he made his way to the drawer, pulling it open to reveal an array of his own garments neatly folded inside.

Among the familiar shirts and sweaters, he found a comfortable set of clothes, a reminder of the special bond you shared. With a sense of gratitude, he slipped into the dry attire, the fabric warm and comforting against his skin.

As he dressed, he couldn't help but marvel at the depth of your friendship, the way you had opened your home and your heart to him without hesitation. In moments like these, he felt a profound sense of belonging, a reassurance that no matter where life took him, he would always have a place by your side.

With a renewed sense of purpose, he stepped out of the bathroom, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead, knowing that with you by his side, he could weather any storm that came his way. And as he made his way back to your side, his heart filled with love and appreciation for the unwavering support you had always shown him.

As you both settled into the comforting embrace of your bed, Chanbin's arms enveloped you in a warmth that chased away the shadows of doubt and fear. Nestled against his chest, you felt a sense of security wash over you.

In the quiet intimacy of the moment, you found the courage to speak the words that had been weighing heavy on your heart, the truths that had remained unspoken for far too long.

"Chanbin," you began, your voice soft yet filled with conviction, "there's something I need to tell you."

He listened attentively, his heart open to whatever you needed to share. His fingers traced gentle patterns along your back, a silent reassurance of his unwavering support.

"I.. I've been struggling," you admitted, your voice trembling with vulnerability. "With the weight of expectations, with the fear of failure, with the uncertainty of what lies ahead."

Chanbin's embrace tightened, his silent affirmation a testament to the depth of his understanding. "You're not alone, my sunshine," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. "I'm here for you, always."

Tears welled in your eyes as you spoke of your fears and doubts, your hopes and dreams laid bare before him. In his arms, you found solace, a safe haven amidst the chaos of life's uncertainties.

"I don't know what the future holds," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. "But with you by my side, I know I can face whatever comes our way."

Chanbin's response was a tender kiss pressed to your forehead, a silent promise of his unwavering devotion. "Together, we'll weather the storms." he murmured, his voice filled with quiet determination. "Whatever lies ahead, we'll face it hand in hand, heart to heart."

In the quiet of the night, with the weight of the world pressing down on his shoulders, Chanbin poured his heart out to you. Despite the demands of his packed schedule, his thoughts always returned to you, his sunshine, the one who illuminated his darkest days and filled his life with warmth and joy.

With a vulnerability he rarely showed, Chanbin confessed the depth of his love for you, the fear that gripped his heart at the mere thought of losing you. Each word was a testament to the depth of his affection, a plea for understanding and acceptance in the face of uncertainty.

"[Your name]," he began, his voice tinged with emotion, "you mean more to me than words can express. Every moment we spend together is a gift, a treasure I hold close to my heart."

His confession poured forth like a river, each word carrying the weight of his love and devotion. He spoke of the moments you shared, the laughter and tears, the triumphs and challenges, all woven together into the tapestry of your shared journey.

"I can't imagine my life without you," he admitted, his voice raw with emotion. "You're the light that guides me through the darkness, the anchor that keeps me grounded in times of uncertainty."

As he spoke, his heart laid bare before you, Chanbin revealed the depth of his fears and insecurities, the uncertainty that gnawed at him when he thought of a future without you by his side.

As his confession drew to a close, Chanbin looked to you, his eyes filled with a mixture of hope and apprehension. In that moment, he bared his soul to you, trusting that you would understand the depth of his love and the sincerity of his words.

In the tender space between confessions and emotions laid bare, you found your own heart echoing the sentiments Chanbin had expressed. Tears welled in your eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the weight and beauty of the moment.

As Chanbin's words lingered in the air, your heart swelled with a mix of emotions – love, understanding, and a profound sense of connection. You were already crying, the depth of his vulnerability striking a chord within you.

In that delicate moment, as he shared his fears, hopes and love, you slowly reached out for him, your touch a gentle affirmation of your own feelings. His lips met yours in a sweet, lingering kiss, a silent exchange of emotions that needed no words.

Breaking the kiss, you whispered sweet nothings, your voice a soothing melody in the quiet of the night. "Chanbin, I feel it too," you murmured, your words a promise of your shared journey ahead.

In the soft glow of the room, amidst tears and tender kisses, you found solace in the embrace of a love that transcended fears and uncertainties. Hand in hand, heart to heart, you and Chanbin embarked on the next chapter of your intertwined story, a narrative shaped by the profound connection you shared. And as you lay there, entwined in each other's arms, you knew that no matter what challenges awaited, your love would be the anchor that steadied you through the storms of life.

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ninadove · 1 year

Note

If the woman next to Nathalie is indeed Amelie and Emilie is still dead, how do you imagine Amelie and Felix will redecorate The Agreste Mansion? (Assuming that they move there since Amelie is now Adrien’s only adult relative left.)

Oh my gosh Anon. That is SUCH a cute ask, but let me tell you, you have opened Pandora’s box and unleashed 50 levels of overanalysis upon the world. Time for me to turn into an architecture and interior design major for the sake of this post.

In order to get a good sense of Amelie’s taste and of the massive work that needs to be done, let’s compare the shared spaces in the Agreste mansion to those in the Graham de Vanily penthouse.

The first thing that strikes me is that the palettes are exactly the same: white and black are the dominant hues, with a pop of colour coming from earthy tones. And yet, the two atmospheres could not be more different! In my opinion, this boils down to a few key elements: lighting, shapes, space, and purpose.

1. Lighting

The most obvious one. Just look how miserable the Agrestes’ living (?) room looks in comparison to the Graham de Vanily’s. There’s an interesting subversion here when it comes to lighting sources.

The Agrestes’ mansion relies mostly on natural lighting, which gives it a greyish, depressing look. Windows are everywhere, and they’re big, but they aren’t meant to let the sun filter through; instead, they ressemble a cage keeping Adrien in.

Sunlight represents the outside world, which Gabriel "No one matters except us" hates. In his mind, whatever looms outside of the mansion is dangerous. Hawkmoth’s attacks always start with letting the light in, the same way he welcomes his victims’ negative emotions; while he keeps Emilie safe in the crypt, as far away from the sun as possible (even when we do see it fully illuminated, it has to come from an artificial source).

Emilie’s cosy little basement, Gabriel’s office and Nathalie’s room — the adults’ world — are the only spaces that get the courtesy of significant artificial lightning. In other words, there is not enough light and joy coming in from the outside, and definitely not enough coming from the inside to compensate. Which is super sad if you ask me.

Now onto the Graham de Vanily penthouse. We do not get many shots of it, and most of them are taken at night time, which I (want to) believe is a very conscious choice on the writing team’s part.

While Gabriel refuses to let sunlight, and everything good it symbolises, into his son’s life, Amelie welcomes the night and the potential dangers it carries with it. The windows make up two entire walls, offering a full view of the outside world.

Notice how the moon and stars are nowhere to be seen in this shot, yet the penthouse remains significantly brighter than the mansion on the sunniest day. The abundance of artificial light in the Graham de Vanily home, light that comes from within, is a symbol of the love they share as a family.

So obviously, we need to get Adrien some lamps, urgently.

2. Shapes

The thing about the Agreste mansion is, it has potential.

No really. Hear me out.

The use of straight lines (vertical in the overall architecture, expanding like sun rays in the minimalistic decor) is reminiscent of Art Déco, which is a very fun style. For instance, it gave us the Chrysler building:

But here, it’s just… Not working. In fact, these same lines are what makes the entire building look like a cage — not just the windows I mentioned above, but the entire structure of the place, trapped between vertical lines like behind prison bars.

On the other hand, the Graham de Vanily penthouse is ruled primarily by horizontal lines, which expand the space instead of compressing it. It’s smaller, but it feels bigger and more breathable.

This difference in structure directly contributes to my third point:

3. Space

More precisely, how it is organised to make the mansion look threatening, and the penthouse cosy.

And by that I specifically mean this AWFUL NO GOOD TERRIBLE STAIRCASE.

It’s the first thing we think about when picturing the mansion; how it towers over the characters and crushes them. There’s a reason Marinette’s act of defiance in Pretension was to rush up those despicable horrifying very very bad stairs to find Adrien; they are a symbol of Gabriel’s power over his world, his fans, his son, his victims.

Interestingly enough, the penthouse is also built on several levels — which we can infer by the presence of a very discreet mezzanine. This implies the existence of stairs, right??? Where are they???

It’s very blink-and-you-miss it — the exact opposite of the Agreste staircase. To the Graham de Vanilys, stairs are just stairs: a necessity for their comings-and-goings, a useful infrastructure in their day-to-day life as a family. Not a display of power and control.

Oh? Is that a transition I sense? Absolutely, for it is time to move on to the last part of our analysis:

4. Purpose

Just like the staircase, every single piece of furniture in the Agreste household serves a purpose. Adrien’s room is the best example of this phenomenon.

On top of the essentials (bed + desk & computer combo), we immediately notice:

- A plethora of trophies, reinforcing the message that Adrien has to be the best at everything he does, always;

- An impressive bookshelf, illustrating the top-notch (and somewhat elitist) education Adrien has been receiving at home.

"But Nina!" you might ask, "What about the fun stuff? What about the arcade games and the basketball hoop and the climbing wall?"

I hear you. Those things look pretty cool, don’t they? Until you remember that Adrien has spent his entire life in isolation. These are all appliances that would normally be found outside of the house, giving him an opportunity to socialise. In other words, they are meant to deter him from seeking enjoyment in the “real” world. If, like me, you were obsessed with N Harmonia as a pre-teen, you might notice some striking similarities to his cage room:

Still not convinced? Say hi to our friend the foosball table!

Meanwhile, on the actually loving side of the family, you get an entire piano and AN ACTUAL ABSTRACT PAINTING:

It’s not even figurative — unlike the portraits of the Agreste family members or the statue in the garden, constantly reminding us of Emilie’s absence. It’s art for the sake of art, which makes a massive difference. Things are allowed to be there for no reason other than Amelie and Felix like them.

So now that we’ve established that

How would they redecorate the mansion if given the chance?

1. Lean into the Art Déco aesthetic for a much needed dose of actual (yet elegant) fun. There are so many lines and curves to play with to get rid of this feeling of imprisonment we get from the pillars!

2. BLOW UP THOSE FUCKING STAIRS. No, really. We can find a much cuter, less pretentious alternative to whatever kind of power trip that was.

3. Get rid of the stupid bars on all those windows. Replace them with literally any other option that doesn’t make you want to choke on a pancake.

4. Also, get some lamps. Lamps EVERYWHERE, on the walls, on the ceiling, on the furniture. The resident vampire is GONE, we can have some goddamn light in this goddamn place.

5. Indulge in the pleasure of buying things just because they’re pretty. Trash the paintings and put up some actual art (abstract or not) instead. Exorcise Emilie’s ghost and Gabriel’s tacky tastes out of this place. This process has already begun, given that the statue in the garden is now gone!

6. Let Adrien decorate his own room, and have fun with it. This part may be tricky because our boy doesn’t know what he wants, but you know what, it’s part of the process! Giving him total creative control over his own space is a first step towards his making bigger decisions for himself, like choosing what he wants to be when he grows up. As requested by my ✨ awesome girlfriend ✨ @paracosmicfawn, he can also redecorate the entryway, which carries sooo much trauma for him. Maybe he can put up some cute cat statuettes along the new staircase, or something equally cheesy.

7. Build a pool, apparently

8. Last but not least, block all accesses to the basement and the attic. Hide them behind these new Kandinsky paintings they just bought. Pray to Gimmi Adrien never finds out (he will).

And that, my friend, is how you take a prison and turn it into a home full of secrets!

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kyuummie · 2 months

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read about my sons NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!’!

recently ive taken it upon myself to turn glitterduo (argbur and incelbur/simpbur) into my ocs, allen (he him) and salem (he she they) after realizing how much i was attached to them and might go as far as reclaiming even more relevant burs

theyre kind of like a gag anime with a broad plot that has only 50% to do with the actual episode youre watching. They just kind of exist and go through day to day things together because theyre buds. maybe you will like them too if you liked bur sonas…i just wanted to share something that gave me joy. theyre like if triple baka was double baka mesmerizer if it was awesome

who should be the third baka or the yellow one that wasnt in mesmerizer vote down below /hj

more random stuff about them under the cut

no salem is not an incel. Thought i should preface that LMFAO (i still think its crazy how much the fandom (using that term lightly cause of how fan driven the concept of burs were) “woobified” incelbur/simpbur seeing how much of a creep he apparently is. its ok i was a part of it and i never do anything wrong ^_^)

i originally had a really hard time trying to figure out a plotline for these two, my first draft “salmon alley” was about them being platonic soulmates and having to figure out how to live together. one, i didnt like the name cause it sounded to much like salmonella. Second, i didnt really know where to go with the soulmate thing and i didnt even know if i wanted to have a story for them

then, i wanted to go the unconventional route and make them little magical girls (“1-chance duet”) with the point of them being tied together as two magical girls who were destined to save, well, mentally unstable people 😭, before they could save themselves, and i gave salem a bunny hood which is where his current hat comes from

i might use some of this as au ideas or their general “plot”. but i kind of like them just being there and only serving as comfort and a source of joy? these two just Happened to both be my faves and also be created by some douche. so, if you were also a bur sona liker, youre like a sleeper agent 🕵️ maybe theyll go ghost hunting and find blue (gb). Travel back in time to find an old timey president at a bar (lmanbr). go a couple months forward to find him depressed, and deceased the next day (pogbr). maybe theyll be taken by the mad scientist who sent them back in time(malpractice). maybe theyll meet god himself (100p??). Hey allen why do all these guys look vaguely like us and all have brown shoulder length hair

i remember i had my designs for og glitterduo memorized like muscle memory, i have no idea how i got over them so quickly but when i was reminded of them i couldnt keep the demons inside…i drew arg all the time in class and i love edgy characters so he was my perfect little guy. i might still refer to them (especially allen) as arg/incel/simp. Maybe this is another 2 week phase but i love them

also, i dont know what to call their “series”. i have two in mind: amygdala’s resonance/just amygdala, or hatena (as in question mark) but i think amygdala seems way too dark and edgy for what im thinking

#cw eye contact #bursonas #BUT DONT TAGTHEM AS THAT 🖕#hatena ocs #amygdala ocs #oc #this is me screaming for my brethren in a foreign land #kae arts

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tmnt-tychou · 2 years

Photo

(Thank you to @turtlebros4u for the amazing cover art!)

Please accept my humble and quickly put-together submission for the TMNT Stocking Stuffer challenge. I didn’t think I was going to write something, but I guess I had one in the tank. (People familiar with the New York area, please forgive me if I got any locations wrong. I’ve never been there.)

GN Reader x 4 Turtles (Action and fluff)

@thelaundrybitch @turtle-babe83

A Christmas to Remember

You just wanted all of them to have a nice Christmas. Your very first Christmas with these wonderful, amazing people—turtles—in your life. They were bright, colorful, caring, and it was a shame they were forced to hide below ground, in the dark. Especially around the holidays. You wanted to do something special for them.

Unfortunately, the lively, energetic turtles you had known in the summer turned into slothful, cranky, sleepy reptiles in the winter. With the temperatures dropping as Christmas grew closer, they spent more and more time sleeping. Sometimes over twelve hours at one time. Splinter told you this was normal for them. Turtles experienced a slow down in their metabolism. Not quite a hibernation, but it made them listless. For a regular turtle, this was normal. For a mutant ninja turtle, this looked more like winter depression to you.

They didn't want to do anything. Normally ravenous, they didn't even care to eat as their metabolism slowed. Cuddling up on the couch in a turtle pile and watching movies was about their only speed, and most of the time, they would all be asleep by the end. And they liked Christmas, the idea of it, but when the holiday actually came around, they didn't have the energy for it.

Energy or not, you were determined to give them a Christmas they wouldn't forget. And, bless their hearts, they really tried. They were trying their best for you. You told them you were taking them out so they better be prepared. They got all their sleeping in before you showed up. And when they dressed up to go out, you couldn't help but laugh. They looked like they were venturing out to the deep arctic and not spending a few hours in a New York, Christmas Eve Winter.

Each wore thick boots, pants and patched together coats made from pieces of smaller, human shaped coats. Three-fingered gloves, hats and hoods covered their green skin as much as humanly possible. As if they would die if a single snowflake were to touch them.

And they were equally unenthused about it as if the deep arctic was their destination. You were the main source of positive vibes and happy chatter as all of you made your way to the surface and stole to the New York City rooftops. They did finally start perking up as they took turns carrying you from roof to roof as they ran around and looked at all the lights and festivities the city had to offer.

Nearly two hours in and the last stop on the list was Rockefeller Center where all of you gazed down at the giant tree and watched the ice skaters below. Even from this high up, you could hear the Christmas music pumping up from below.

“You know, I've never seen it in person before,” Raphael said, watching the lights of the massive tree. “It's right at our door and we never bothered to get out.”

“It's so pretty,” Michelangelo marveled.

At either of your sides stood Donatello and Leonardo. They were smiling. No more cranky faces.

“Thanks for making us come out,” Leonardo said. “This was nice.”

You smiled back, absolutely ecstatic that they were having a good time. They were so grumbly at first, you worried they would end up irritated with you by the time they made it back. That you could bring some holiday joy to their very sleepy winter months made you so happy. This was the best present they could ever give you.

They remained here the longest, taking it all in. Soaking up the pureness of a holiday they often slept through. You wandered to each of them, taking in their joy, putting your head on their shoulders and listening to that happy chatter between brothers you had missed from the warmer seasons.

Eventually, the cold got to them again and they decided to call it night. Leonardo had you draped over his shoulder, your arms around his neck as he jumped from one building to another. Not your favorite turtle-involved activity, but you did secretly like being this close to them, feeling their effortless power under you. Your face was always burning hot when they put you down. Even now, it was enough to keep you warm as the chilly wind of their speed stung your face.

Block after block they traveled, heading home. Though warmer below, it was faster to go topside. And it seemed they really did enjoy being outside after sitting in the winter blues for so long. They were running at fine speeds and enjoying the fresh air in their lungs. Then, a bullet whizzed by Donatello's head, nearly grazing his mask.

All four turtles stopped and crouched. Surrounded on all sides on various rooftops were Foot Soldiers. Some with guns, others with swords. As if they had been waiting for you. As if they had watched all of you this whole night and new exactly which direction you would be headed on your way back.

Leonardo tightened his grip on you—mostly on your ass, since that's where his hand rested—as he mentally counted all his opponents. There were too many and they were surrounded on all sides.

“I guess that answers that question about whether the Foot gives you holiday time off,” Donatello quipped.

“Give us a break, guys. It's Christmas!” Michelangelo cried, hands up.

Another shot rang through the night and Raphael jerked back as the bullet grazed his bicep. By now, the Foot knew better. They knew the shells could withstand bullets from most guns. They knew now to aim for the fleshy parts, and the head.

“Raph!” you screamed as he gripped his arm.

Leonardo didn't wait around for a second shot. They couldn't chance taking a stand against that many armed Foot with you there, exposed and vulnerable. He jumped off the building and his brothers followed, rebounding off various fire escapes on his way down.

You screamed and covered your head as the sounds of gunfire echoed in your ears. Your body was jerked around as Leonardo hit the ground and took off running. Daring to glance up, you saw a rain of masked Foot Soldiers falling from the building tops after you. There was a road ahead and Leonardo had no choice but to sprint into the on-coming traffic. The squealing of brakes and tires, the blaring of horns filled your ears as he leaped and jumped from the top of one car and another to make it to the other side. The rest of the brothers ran on either side of you and the bullets kept flying.

Behind you, you saw Donatello stumble and nearly fall, but then continue running with a hand on his thigh. You were shaking, too scared to scream his name. The Foot were going to kill them all and there was nothing you could do to protect them.

Then, Leonardo suddenly slid to a stop in the snow. The brothers found themselves on a pier, only the Hudson River ahead of them. A white layer of ice and snow covered the river, leading out into the darkness.

“There's no way!” Raphael yelled. “We're too heavy. We'll never make it across.”

Michelangelo cried out as a bullet hit him. You ducked as you felt one ping off Leonardo's shell close to your head.

“We have no choice!” Leonardo ordered. His grip on you was bruising, but you felt nothing but fear. “Swift and light, boys. Go!”

They jumped from the pier and ran across the bridge of ice. The Hudson River was a half mile wide and you could hear the crack of the ice as the heavy turtles ran across it. From your vantage point over Leonardo's shoulder, you could see some Foot were following, but others had remained on the pier. Either way, they were getting further and further behind as the turtles ran at full speed. A speed no normal human hoped to match.

The sounds of gunfire became more distant. They were going to make it! And then, a sickening crack echoed in your ears. The slap of ice and wetness. They were only halfway across and the bridge was too thin. The ice gave way and all of you plunged into the dark, gelid water.

It took all of your control not to gasp at the sudden cold as you were pulled under the surface. You had never felt such an intense, bitter, painful chill in all your life. It made you muscles seize and ache, your lungs burn, your brain panic.

Something strong grabbed you and yanked you toward the surface, but all you hit was a heavy chunk of ice, keeping you from live-giving air. You couldn't see a thing in the darkness, only hear the heavy thunk of what you imagined was a strong fist trying to break through the ice. You were running out of air. You needed to breathe.

You must have passed out for a moment, because the next thing you remember was being dragged from the icy water and up the snow-covered riverbank. Raphael had you now, on his hands and knees, heaving as it seemed to take every ounce of his strength to haul both himself and you to safety.

You quickly made a mental count: one, two, three...four. All four brothers were on the bank. Leonardo was next to you, his body visibly shaking from the cold. On the other side of Raphael, Donatello coughed violently in the snow. Michelangelo was a little higher up the bank.

“Dudes, where are we?” he asked with chattering teeth.

“If we made it to the other side...maybe Hoboken?” Donatello ventured to guess.

“New Jersey?” Raphael growled in your ear. “Great, I'm going to die of hypothermia in J-Jersey.”

You could hear all of their teeth chattering from the cold. Yours were, too. Your fingers and toes might as well have been missing. You couldn't feel them at. But, if you focused enough, you could force your shivering limbs to work and you pulled yourself to your feet.

You were the only one.

“Come on, guys, get up. You can't stay here.”

Leonardo was doing his best, but he couldn't get up higher than on his knees. The others seemed incapable of even trying. They were reptiles. The cold slowed them down, shut down their bodies. And they would die out here of exposure just as easily as you would if you all stayed.

You ran to Michelangelo first and tugged on his arm. “Come on, Mikey, get up. You have to get up!”

His arm was slick with blood, though he didn't seem to feel the bullet wound right above his elbow. He was too cold to feel anything.

“I...I don't think I can,” he said weakly.

“Yes you can.” You looked him in the face, determined. “Get your legs under you and get up. Do it for me. Please?”

He smiled weakly, but there was a new resolve in him. “Anything for you, Babe.”

He put his all into it, managing to get up on shaky legs. You quickly pressed yourself against his side to steady him. Both of you were shivering, but you held each other up. You doggedly urged him up the bank, one foot in front of the other. And up the embankment, you saw an old, abandoned building several yards out. It was like a miracle from God.

This renewed both your efforts and the two of you pushed for the building. It had a slide-up entrance big enough for a vehicle to drive through. Michelangelo helped you force it open and then you helped him stumble inside.

Within, there was nothing but a wide-open cement floor and what looked like dusty construction equipment and supplies near the back. No light. Definitely no heat. It wasn't ideal, but it was better than laying in the snow on the riverbank.

You ran back down to the river, falling on your face along the way as your frozen limbs refused to move as well as they used to. You forced yourself back up, caked in snow and slid down the embankment to the remaining turtles. Leonardo had managed to get upright again and was trying to get to Raphael.

You grabbed the leader in blue and pulled him away.

“No, help them first,” he insisted, and then nearly fell back down.

“I'm helping all of you, but you're next,” you insisted. “Come on, I found a place.”

Leonardo grunted as your pulled him along. He hated to be told what to do, but he was in no position to argue. You were the only warm-blooded one among them. You were faring better than the brothers—for now. Your body might give out to the cold eventually, but you were determined to pull as many turtles to safety as you could before that happened. As cold as you were, maybe if you could force yourself to keep moving, you would be okay.

The frigid winter air against your wet clothes was torture. There was no hope of your body warming itself as every bit of body heat was stolen by the breeze. Still, you pressed on as you and Leonardo dragged yourselves to the storage building.

He was barely at the door before you turned and ran back. Running made the cold worse. Your muscles were struggling, as if the line from your brain to your legs were being cut. Your hair was now a solid ice clump on your head. But you forced yourself forward and slid back down the embankment. There, Raphael had managed to get himself to Donatello and they were trying to help each other climb up.

“Get Donnie next,” Raphael told you. “He's hurt.”

You looked to where Donatello was pressing a hand to his thigh, but you didn't see anything. Walking around him, the bullet had pierced the back of his thigh and his pants were darkened in blood.

“At least the river greatly slowed the blood flow, so chances of bleeding out are low,” Donatello managed to say.

“Small favors,” you said with a hopeful smile. “Come on, get up. It's not far.”

Donatello struggled. His long limbs would not cooperate and you both fell down several times trying to get to the building. Leonardo came back out, determined to help and you wanted to yell at him. You were trying to get turtles INTO the building. They were not helping if they were coming back out. Yet, between the two of you, you all managed to stumble inside.

Still one more turtle to go. Your pants had frozen to your legs so much that they made a cracking sound any time you moved. Your feet were in icy puddles in your shoes and your sweater was pretty much a soaked sponge.

With determination, you shrugged off your coat, peeled the soaked, also nearly solid sweater from your body and dropped it to the ground. The coat was more like one of those water resistant ski jackets and didn't retain nearly as much water. You zipped it back on and went back out one more time.

You found Raphael nearly at the top of the bank. Both of you were frosted in white snow, your bodies too cold to melt it.

“Come on, big guy, I've got you,” you said between blue lips as you pulled at him.

He was so much bigger and heavier than you, no amount of pulling on your own would have made a difference. But your shaking form was enough to steady him and the two of you stumbled for the building.

“Look at you, saving our asses,” he mumbled with humor.

“You're saving yourself,” you insisted. “I'm just here for moral support.”

He snorted and the two of you finally made it.

Instantly, you began tugging at their heavy clothes. “Take these off. They're soaked. You're going to freeze to death.”

They were so bloodless and lethargic. Three of them had been shot. Leonardo was the only one who managed to escape any bullets. You had a suspicion it was because his brothers kept him and you in the front while you fled to minimize any possible hits. But you didn't let yourself think about it for long. Your brain was in survival mode. You couldn't sit down and rest or you might not be able to get back up. You had to keep your muscles moving. It was the only way to stay warm.

So you stubbornly kept working, yanking soaked, frozen winter clothes off very cold turtles. As their skin was exposed to the open air, they huddled together to keep warm in a big turtle pile. Which would have been cute in any other situation. They weren't just trying to keep themselves warm. Arms around each other, they tried to warm up their brothers. The scene made you more determined. You had to get them warm. If the Foot found them, they would be sitting ducks.

Grabbing Donatello's pack, you fished around for a flashlight and then went deeper into the building to see if there was anything you could use. Old packs of concrete, some of the bags split open. An out of date fork lift that probably didn't work anymore. There was a whole pile of large tarps. A flimsy insulation, but better than nothing to protect bodies from direct exposure to cold concrete.

And, your saving grace, you found some old wood pallets.

The turtles looked up as you dragged one of the pallets over to them. “Break this into pieces. I'm going to try to build a fire. Anyone pack a lighter?”

*************

You were almost done. You closed the door to keep air out, you got the turtles on their new tarp beds where they now huddled as one giant pile. You managed to get a fire going and now you were nearly done wrapping up the last of the bullet wounds. Luckily, the guys always brought a first aid kit whenever they went out. Unfortunately, there was still a bullet in Donatello's leg and Michelangelo's arm. They would have to wait for removal.

With the last of your energy, you dragged a second pallet over for breakdown to make sure you would have enough wood to last the night. Then, you just dropped on your ass on the floor, staring at the fire. There was nothing else to do, you had done the best you could. All your reserves were gone.

At least now you had heat and it felt so good just to sit in front of the fire and let it warm you. You weren't shivering anymore. All your limbs were numb. Maybe that was bad. You thought you read somewhere that when the shivers were gone that was the next stage of hypothermia. But you weren't sure. Your brain was sluggish. It had no more input to give you now that you had done all the tasks. You had now redeemed yourself.

“Sorry,” you told the turtles across the fire. “If I hadn't insisted you guys go out, none of this would have happened. I almost got you killed. I'm so sorry.”

“Hey, that is not your fault,” Raphael shot back. “It's the Foot's fault for being assholes. And it's our fault for forgetting that we needed to keep an eye out. We got sloppy, not you.”

“No one's blaming you,” Donatello confirmed. “I'm still glad we did it. I hadn't had that Christmas feeling since we were kids. I had forgotten all about it. I was glad to remember it again.”

“Ditto!” Michelangelo cut in. “You make a turtle feel young at heart again.”

You smiled softly. It was all you could manage. You couldn't make your body move, now that you had finally allowed it rest.

“Hey,” Leonardo called to you. “Why are you over there? Come sit with us and get warm.”

You just looked at him and slowly blinked. Sitting over there sounded nice, but what sounded even nicer was to let the blackness of sleep take you. Your head lolled forward and then the rest of you slowly fell over on your side. There, now you could go to sleep. And you wished the boys would stop yelling your name. You were so tired.

At some point, you were aware of strong arms picking your boneless body off the floor. You were set among a nest of large forms and green hands worked to gently peel the soaked clothes off your body. Left in just your underwear, you were the center of the turtle nest as they all huddled together to get warm. Their bodies were still so cold against your skin. None of you were producing any heat from your bodies, but you still tried.

You took the nearest cold hand you could grab and pressed it to your stomach, trying to warm it. As the fire's heat settled into your skin and in the air, you grabbed the next green hand to replace it, rubbing the fingers.

They were too cold, too cold. They needed to get warmer. Your brain just kept going over that mantra, even as you drifted in and out of consciousness. Through the night, you don't remember much if any talking among the brothers. You do remember them often rotating spots so the turtles on the outside could then spend some time on the inside of the cuddle pile.

You were always in the middle; always kept warm and protected. Always surrounded by solid plastrons and thick thighs as they kept your off the cold ground with their own limbs. By the time the gray winter sun eked in through the dirty windows, you were sore and still tired, but toasty warm as a fire still crackled on front of you. And very large turtle bodies protectively huddled around you.

As you awoke, the first thought in your mind was if they were all okay. But the first sign of movement from you had Michelangelo singing loudly in your ear.

“We wish you a merry Christmas!”

You groaned.

“We wish you a merry Christmas!”

“Mikey, nooo...”

“We wish you a merry Christmaaaas!”

“Mikey, shut it!” Raphael barked.

“AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

You rolled to press your face into the plastron of the very turtle that was singing to you and you could feel the vibrations of his laughter. Your second half lay in the lap of Donatello and he rubbed your leg to warm it up.

“How do you feel? Does anything hurt?”

All your muscles hurt, but you sat up with a smile. “I'm fine. I'm worried about you and your leg.”

Leonardo approached, holding out your ski jacket. “Here, put this on, it's mostly dry now. We managed to get one of the cells to work and called April. She's coming to get us.”

“I'll be fine once we can get back to the lair and take care of everyone's wounds,” Donatello confirmed. “You got us out, we're all okay.”

As you blissfully wrapped yourself in your jacket, you smiled thankfully. This could have ended badly. These dear friends you had in your life could have been taken from you so easily. Yet, all of you survived. Christmas miracle? Maybe.

A solid bang on the door made them all jump, then it was yanked open, revealing April's perturbed countenance. She was not happy to be called out at the crack of dawn on Christmas morning.

“Get your shells in gear before anyone sees me driving that fugly van of yours!” she called.

When she actually saw the state of her turtles and their wounds, she quickly changed from irritated old sister to mother hen. She checked each turtle over and helped them into the van. You were grateful for her. You could never trust if the turtles told you they were alright. They would want to keep you from worrying. But if April looked them over and saw they looked like they weren't in any immediate danger of dying, you could believe that.

You crawled into the back seat with Leonardo, since you two were the only ones without any bullet wounds. Donatello had to sit in the front with his bad leg. The other brothers took the middle.

“Not the best Christmas ever like I had hoped,” you lamented as you all drove away.

“Hey, sometimes any Christmas you survive is a good Christmas,” Raphael joked in front of her.

Leonardo took your hand and squeezed. “It's definitely one we'll remember for the rest of our lives.”

“I mean, we did all get naked together. That's a pretty good Christmas,” Michelangelo grinned back at you.

You reached in front of you to hug him around the neck. “I'm just glad you're all okay.”

“We're glad you're okay, too. You had us worried for a minute last night.”

You weren't sure what to say about that. You had never worried about yourself that night. Instead, you just kissed his dome and settled back in for the ride home.

************

Once returning to the lair and receiving hot baths and warm clothes, a fussy Splinter tended to his son's wounds and made all of you eat. You brought out your presents for them: giant, thick, weighted blankets that the guys all immediately curled up with in the living room. Thirty minutes into watching “The Grinch” and they were all sound asleep. And you were pretty much trapped at the bottom of that turtle pile. But you didn't mind. It felt like this was where you belonged. And this definitely was a Christmas all of you would remember.

#tmnt stocking stuffers #tmnt #tmnt bayverse #tmnt 2016 #we did all get naked together #that's a pretty good Christmas

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em-writes-stuff-sometimes · 1 month

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Haven't heard from you in a while, hope you're doing well! <3

Hey, nonnie - I'm doing alright. Personal ramble below the cut. Skip if you're just here for fanfic reading and don't care about my silly little melodrama.

Not going to go into too much detail, but I've been really feeling the depression lately. For context, I have clinical depression and take a really high dose of antidepressants, which fuck with other aspects of my life (i.e. weight and lack of sleep). Medical consensus is that I'll need medication for the rest of my life as my brain does not perform the appropriate mood-regulating functions (I'm not super sure what the specifics of this are). I've struggled with low feeling, demotivation, SI/SH etc. for nearly nine years now. I've slipped into a bit of an episode lately - not necessarily related to being online but Tumblr is a part of it - but I'm trying to work my way out of it by picking up some new-old hobbies, such as crochet, and doing things that I like and that don't stress me. I'm safe and don't have the opportunity to action any of my feelings, so please don't worry about me!

Unfortunately, Tumblr has been a source of stress for me since I've come on here. I've made some downright terrible choices in friends, in behaviour, in the amount of energy I commit to this space, and the only one who can really break this cycle is me. This site hosts a really wide range of personalities, and I just... feel like I've encountered some of the absolute worst among all of that, and it's done me absolutely no favours when it comes to making good choices. We all say that as adults, we should know better, but there's no sudden switch that flips, you know? We spend our whole lives making mistakes and learning from them. Adulthood isn't the abrupt entry into moral infallibility, and that's been something I've had to address and work through when it comes to my own failings.

To be perfectly honest, Tumblr isn't a supportive place. Or the people aren't. I don't really know which. To clarify, I do generally speak of the community of artists and writers in this, not the people here who just want to enjoy art or read someone's fanfic. I suppose there's a certain level of - I don't know - self-centredness? - when it comes to creating an online presence and sharing one's own creations on the internet. That mentality, I think, bleeds over into feelings of entitlement in creative communities. Entitlement to other people's time, to people's attention, to people's promotion, and when one doesn't get that, the problems start: (best to worst =) transactional interaction, badmouthing, hate anons, public bashing, and the list goes on. I've definitely been someone who has been upset by people's lack of interaction. I've responded with "oh, I'm not reblogging until they reblog mine" more than once. We all know that I've been involved with badmouthing and publicly bashing others. I continue to be very ashamed of this, and I am honest with myself about what I've done and how I got there in my journey working through my problems and making meaningful change in my life.

Anyway, point is - I'm trying to divorce myself from the entitlement, and I think to do that I need to divorce myself from the notion that we exist as a community. I've put far too much effort into that idea, and it's gotten me absolutely nowhere. There are more people who dislike me than not. Most just straight-up ignore me. I deserve it, sure, but (or maybe and) I have no intention of continuing to engage in a space that either doesn't exist or where I'm not wanted. I've felt anxious and upset at the mere thought of going on Tumblr the past few months. It hasn't been bringing me joy anymore, and that was the whole point of it. There's so much bad blood associated with being on here, but I love writing. I love this show. I can't give up something that makes me so happy in every respect other than this one site.

So I've taken some time off, reassessed the way I'm intending to use this space, and I've essentially decided that I started it for me so I'm going to do it for me. I'm going to interact with who I want and post what I want and damn absolutely everyone who tries to police me (of which there has been A LOT - apparently I have a "responsibility" to support others which I now know is actually code for "I'm jealous that you're getting any kind of attention online, so instead of addressing my issue with this, I'm going to vaguepost about/anon/DM you to try and guilt you into giving my work attention so that maybe it'll transfer to me").

For the casual peruser, no change at all. But I'm done giving my effort to the idea of 'community'. It doesn't exist, or I don't belong. I am going to do what makes me happy now, and only what makes me happy. That's the whole point. I'm sick of focusing on negatives. I'm sick of posting about them, to be honest. I think this mindset will do me good.

If you've gotten this far, I hope that it's okay that I've decided this. I'm feeling positive about it!

#personal updates

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roo-bastmoon · 1 year

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Incredibly lucky to even be here

I just realized, exactly one year ago today (May 11th) I was diagnosed with endometrial stromal sarcoma and given less than a 34% chance of survival. I'm incredibly, miraculously lucky to be well and cancer-free today. I owe that to my amazing doctors, and also in a small way to BTS.

The moment I got told I had cancer, I immediately decided to only entertain thoughts of complete health and victory. It was a pure and immediate defense mechanism and I stuck to it. So no sad songs or movies or TV shows. No online drama. No negative nellies or naysayers. No stressful projects at work. No arguments, no entanglements, no regrets.

For months, I would focus only on laughter and quality time with loved ones and things that brought me joy, even as I had to deal with practical stuff like creating a will and a pet trust and filling out life insurance forms and undergoing test and surgeries.

BTS (and Jimin, as my "recruiter") gave me moments of grace and beauty and art and warmth and giggles--and kind ARMYs gave me a sense of belonging and community, especially during a dark and terrifying time, when in the quiet of the early morning hours, the sense that my own body was my worst enemy would eat at all my mental defenses. I could switch on my phone, go to the timeline, and ARMY and BTS would be there.

If I seem to be very Pollyanna-ish or boringly polite these days, it's because I decided one year ago to focus on what I want instead of giving energy to what I don't. I know bad things are very real and they need to be confronted--of course! But I also know that depression, anger, and fear can erode the myelin sheath wrapped around our nerve endings and weaken the walls in the chambers of our hearts; that toxic emotions can bleach our hair of color and rob our nails and skin of suppleness; that negativity can lengthen our immuno-response times to bruises and cuts.

So if other folks get a thrill, a hit of adrenaline, from drama and trash talking in our fandom, more power to them, I guess. It must serve them in some way I don't understand. Me? I find meanness and pettiness draining and damaging. So I'll never do that. I'll never rudely call someone out in public or go on their blog to rant or snipe openly about members or fellow ARMY. I will just keep myself to myself and do my best to be authentic and kind and hard working.

Doesn't always work. I'm human. I will absolutely make mistakes (case in point--the campaign idea yesterday that could have really harmed Jimin. I didn't think about all the consequences and I'm so grateful to the people who patiently set me straight.) Please know that if you ever feel strongly I'm going in the wrong direction, you can always speak to me--I'll ask a million questions, I'll hear you out, and I'll try to be flexible in my mindset. You don't have to hide behind throw-away accounts or talk to others about me. I will do my best to always be kind and act in good faith with everyone. (But I'll likely still make some mistakes, because my intentions are good but I myself am not perfect.)

By and large, I feel I'm just really astronomically lucky to be here. I know the kind of cancer I had is very sneaky and could come back at any time. So how I spend my time left in this life matters to me. I want to be a source of good in the world, help other people, experience bliss and celebrate good things. I don't want to be selfish or destructive. If I start to go that way, I know good friends will gently call me back.

Like BTS, I want to connect with people and help build something worthy. So if you're on board with that, let's be friends. And if you're not, let's part amicably.

I just... figured I should probably say that... out loud. So that's that on that.

Love you guys,

Roo

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yelling-space · 7 months

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Children of light/darkness

it wouldn't let me change the txt 2 black so enkis pink cuz i hate him

Couldnt stop thinking about that one stupid throw away line in fagcats monologuing so i decided to apply it to the rest of the gang becuse i can 4 context i'm going to assume the ratio of children of light:darkness is similar to that a 1:45 type thing. (includes a few hcs.)

— "Living humans are divided into two groups, yes? There are children of light. Those destined to walk under the bright sun. Those people do well in all hardships of life. They have dear humans who they want to return to. Even in the darkest hour, they can feel the warmth of their loved ones in their heart and gain extra courage from that.” - Pocketcat

Obviously The Girl is a child of light since it’s stated in-game by the New Gods. A pure child, a blank slate birthed from the darkest pits of human creation. The literal embodiment of fear and hunger, a small light shrouded in darkness without even a glimmer of hope. A child who's been robbed of love;the first kind gesture she ever received was being freed from a cage by a man who smiled at her like she wasn't a horrific monster. Yet despite all her hesitation she slowly finds herself gaining comfort in his presence, enough to scrounge a little closer and find herself enjoying the sound his voice,a man that never stop talking even tho she doesn't speak back, doesn't quite understand why he shares his food with her yet gobbles it down before he can try taking it back the second she realises its safe to eat. And then he gifts her the doll. And she's not really sure what to do or what all these overwhelming feelings inside are but the raggedy thing never leaves her side as she trails him like a moth to flame.

Cahara's a child of light, he burns slow and soft. A little flicker of light in the darkness that'll last in the wind because it has the fuel to keep going and can light up other people. He’s a people person, a social butterfly who people are drawn to and ends up making connections wherever he goes. Despite everything he's been through and all the horrors and harsh realities of life he's faced, he's still able to find joy and a love for life. Quite literally one the only thing holding the group together and reason half these people even start to tolerate each other.

“Hooo~ you do? This is the most surprising! I feel like so many people lose the sight of happiness once they grow out of their naive little views of the world they had as younglings. But perhaps it is possible to feel like that, even as someone as old as you.” - Pocketcat

Ragnvaldr’s a child light. He burns bright and fast like a strip of magnesium, his light comes in bursts. Rage comes as quick as it goes and isn't a reliable source of fuel but shines so bright when it burns it almost hurts to witness.

His light’s too hot to get close to when he's burning, and therefore it doesn't get 'shared' before it's gone unlike Cahara’s who serves to light others over coaxing his own flame. Yet despite losing his family he still carries the love his people held for him in his heart, letting it fuel his fire even though he knows he'll never be able to return to them. Yet despite losing his family, Ragnvaldr still carries their memories alive in his heart and never loses sight of the happiness that was robbed from him so instead he keeps their spirits close while he seeks vengeance.

It's for that same reason The Girl and Ragnvaldr are both attracted to and seek out light despite being lights of their own. They both require others to fuel their flame and keep them afloat vs someone whose light is soft and nurturing more like Cahara’s, whose light draws others towards him. Is bright enough to warm your hands in the midst of a cold winter’s storm yet too weak to spark the light of rebellion and bring about change in the world.

“In the opposite end of the spectrum, there are children of darkness. Those humans are often driven to depression and sorrow because of life's peculiar ways.But they have learned how to live with those feelings. In fact, they have grown to love the ever-pressing darkness within. Those humans are able to draw energy from darkness, they are not dependent on other people. They only need darkness, their old friend.So, humans of light and darkness... Which one are you?” - Pocketcat

It's how D'arce can be born with a silver spoon in her mouth and want for nothing as she gets older, pursuing what she thinks is her dream, leaving behind her luxurious life and continuing to strive higher and higher for her 'goals' – only to constantly be miserable despite it all. No matter what she gains or what she gives up, just never being satisfied, feeling like she's stagnating and making nothing herself despite all the accolades and medals and milestones she's achieved.

It's the same reason Enki can be born in darkness, wanting nothing more then the endless pursuit of knowledge – forced to eat his younger siblings, forced to claw his way out of a well, forced to eat bugs in order to survive, forced to backstab his twin sister, only ever finding twisted satisfaction in a rare moment of joy when he burns his family and the place he once called home into ash – feels so comfortable drowned in misery.

They’re both on completely different ends the moral and social spectrum, yet they both closed off their hearts to the world and poured themselves into their own goals. A way to close off their feelings and shut away from the rest of the world. They both just sorta look at Cahara and Ragnvaldr smiling, laughing and simply ,,,,enjoying existing in each other's company. And they just kinda stare in disbelief at this light in front of them, almost unable to actually believe what they're actually seeing, let alone comprehend how they're even able to exist so freely in a place like this. It doesn't make sense. They're all trapped in this horrific hellscape of a dungeon with strangers they've never met, barely surviving the passing hours with their mess of skill sets and feeble attempts to hold onto whatever draining sense of morality and justice they had before coming down here. And yet these two are smiling and cracking jokes. Talking like they'd been friends for years even though they barely know each other. they just seem so ,,, so,,, bright. no matter how much Enki and D’arce become familiar with the sight, they feel like they're intruding on something; they shouldn't be allowed to see this.

It's something they've already come to terms within their own lives, after all. It's a feeling people like them don't need. They don't deserve it. Yet. something about the sight is just so warm and comforting they can’t quite bring themselves to tear their eyes from it.

“Since you were a child of darkness, I imagine you agree when I say that we don't get the luxury of happiness.We only know brief joy every now and then, but even that is getting more rare every day.” - Pocketcat

Considering how both Enki and Ragnvaldr kinda blur the line a bit when it comes to their actions and motives; how Ragnvaldr can be argued to go 'darker' while enki goes 'lighter' despite their soul compositions (in my amazing awful timeline of events at least.)

It’s how D'arce, a knight of one the most prestigious and well respected groups in the kingdom, borne of nobility, who grew up comfortably, never having to scrape by is constantly shaped in misery and loneliness, can never truly happy no matter how high she climbs in the world vs Cahara having known nothing but constant suffering and struggles, is still able to be happy and smile with people he cares for and find people that love him despite their line of work or less than fortunate situation. He's able to befriend people in every corner of the world he travels to; there's people who care for him and want to be around him. Even though he's experienced the hardship of life first hand he's still able to look at the world with just so much love for life and she just doesn't get how. D’arce just mystified by watching the fact that two men she knows, born into poverty or into nothing at all, scraping by, living minimal, nomadic, no stable environment or home - for Cahara, nobody to call his own until adulthood - just completely shocked by the fact that they can both smile, joke and seem to be just. happy. content with what they've managed to make for themselves.

And it's not as if D'arce hasnt made anything of herself; she’s clearly put in a lot of effort to get to where she is even if she came from an advantageous background, she had family, she had friends (singular, Le'garde, so maybe ok not even 1 friend but shhh),,, has no idea what she did wrong or what she's doing wrong to continue being so miserable in life.

They all have blood on their hands but she’s yet to realise the cause of it is what makes them different from each other.

Doesn't get how Cahara can sit there and joke about the other ways he made cash to get by when he was younger with a smile on his face. Or how Ragnvalder can sit there and laugh at Cahara horrible jokes after losing everything he’s ever held dear. The way they can chatter on about nothing for hours at a time or talk about their partners with just so much love in their voices knowing they'll probably never see them again. (Maybe even wondering if someone will ever talk about her like that with just so much shear adoration in their voice and this ‘swept off their feet’ look in their eyes, but also i can see that not even crossing her mind at the same time )

Enki and D’arce just sat there a lil bewildered watching the first people they've ever seen be genuinely happy in their lives even though they have almost nothing to their name, have lost everything and yet they can still smile and laugh with each other in a place like this???

They are just so confused by rag&cahara’s chemistry because they themselves don't know how to utilise humour and light-heartedness as ways to cope with the tragedy in their lives, having chosen to instead turn their focuses outward. For example, enlightenment and study & knighthood and an entire other persona, as a way to distract themselves from the struggles in their lives and unintentionally bring the focus away from their internal darkness.

It's also interesting to observe the parallels of duos such as Enki&Cahara and D'arce&Rag to, since Cahara serves to kind of draw people out of their shells and show them light, while Ragnvaldr's light could be seen as something turned into heat and ignite the spark of retribution and spur on the need to go on. While it doesn't make D'arce and Ragnvaldr very close, I can see how it would maybe inspire something in her and propel her forward in times of discouragement. (Whether that's out of admiration for rags ability to be able to still go on after everything thats happend or if it’s from the desire to find Le’gard before Rag fucking gets him☠️is up to you.)

Cahara’s used to sneaking around even though he's very bright, and so resorts to coaxing and persuasion, whereas Ragnvaldr is very obviously used to being a leader figure and just kind of 'shines' on people. I'm not sure how well those methods obviously work on people like Enki and D'arce (lowkey think they might be more beneficial if they swapped, but that's just makes the fact i tend to default to enki&cahara + d’arce&rag funnier), but the fact that they're watching it happen at all is so rare for them let alone the horrifying moment that occurs for the two of them when they realise they actually enjoying having these idiots around (each other included).

(This awful epiphany mainly applies to Enki. He’d rather be sacrificed again then admit he cares for any of these idiots, nevermind Cahara specifically. I don't think it really hits D’arce until they’re out of the dungeon if they make it and she doesn't have their company anymore.)

After all, the world was cruel to them so they became cruel back. That probably affects the way they’d view/interact with Cahara/Rag. Enki especially would have a hard time trying to grasp how they are both able to be so,,,happy,, after going through so much, considering the fact he also went through hell and thus chose to close his heart to the world. Yet here he is, watching these two men who have come from nothing and lost everything who have been nothing but repeatedly wronged by life, talk about how beautiful it is and he just. Doesn't. Get. It. He went through abandonment, being pit against his own sibling to see who deserved to still breath in their parents eyes. He had to resort to more than questionable things in order to survive, he stabbed his own sister in the back and burnt his parents alive after crawling out the pit they tried to bury him in. Hell, he had to eat his own siblings/bugs for crying out loud. and the way he went about it makes sense to him. He's protecting himself. He's putting his interests into unemotional things that can't lash out and hurt him again - things that he can safely invest time and effort into, knowing it will fulfil him in some way, without the pressure of it having to impress someone or be worthy enough to try to seek praise from those around him. It's totally protective, wanting to keep himself from that same hurt, wanting to become powerful and knowledgeable enough to keep himself from being hurt ever again. Right?

It's almost a childish but at the same time totally jaded, adult-ified view of what he probably wanted as a child. Bitter and spiteful since all the while, and hell even his necro tendencies probably have something to do with wanting to be in control of and listened to by something for once in his life.

He most likely also shares a lot of The Girl's wonder in the fact that, despite all the awful shit that's happened and the terrible place they're in now, Cahara and Ragnvaldr are taking a good damn while to break under the darkness that's trying to eat them alive. And even if it's terrible how it manifests, could even argue that Ragnvaldr hallucinating his wife is him retreating back to a better time full of light to cope, similar to Cahara constantly going "oh, this is how i used to gain money, its nothing new lol” when Enki tries to beat around the bush and ask if Cahara’s even okay with,,,, this and just ends up being an answer he's not really sure how he feels about.

Enki: how do you do that Cahara: do what ? Enki: just,,, exist, and seem happy about it Cahara: well, existing is quite a beautiful thing, wouldn't you agree ? Enki: Cahara internally: [he doesn't know that finding worth in life is pointless] vs

D'arce: how do you do that Ragnvaldr: do what? D'arce: keep going onward despite the weight of everything youve lost Ragnvaldr: i've been freed of the binds that kept me from avenging them, that's how D'arce: Ragnvaldr internally: [she doesn't know that weight will stay forever]

ldk why but I really like the idea of them all having similar views but completely opposite interpretations of something. They're all looking at the exact same sunset but seeing something entirely different, both affected by their light and darkness alignments but also just their individual life experiences that shaped their world views.

I can't find it rn but also there's some dialogue from Nosramus about seeing him in the dark; if you’re playing as Cahara/Ragnvaldr, it's a simple “oh your the person from ealier”. but if you’re playing as D’arce/Enki; the response is “the one creeping around in the shadow ealier” witch makes me giggle cuz ofc those 2 be finding comfort in the shadows and scrurrying around like rats in it

“Hooo~! Very good, very good. I love honest words, even when they hurt me. I say that now... But I'm probably going to feel really awful later on. But don't you worry about that. Really. I have grown to love this feeling of being rejected.”

-Pocketcat

Bonus Daan mention :

Daan’s a child darkness both in how it paroles the girl as children destined for greatness by the gods + both more attracted to “Light”(eg elise & cahara both children light & attract others 2 them) like moths 2 a flame then actually attract people to him

Being a child of darknesses also link him 2 fagcat + part the reason pocketcats so interested in the fact “someone like him” was chosen by the gods(much 2 daans dismay)

hes is literally drowning in misery. Thinks of his life as a curse he's forced 2 live threw with the thought things could be different/better ever crossing his mind

Much like d’arce &enki never rly know the feeling of being loved & wanted baring teh short time he was with his wife (rip elies)

He has never known a peaceful happy day, mans just straight up NOT ALLOWED nice things & those he has get ripped away from him in the cruellest ways possible & having said lost thing repeatedly rubbed in his face (eg dead wife ,her coming back as stitches + fagcat never letting him know peace )

#fear and hunger #this is kinda old now but i refuse 2 edit it cuz it means i actually have 2 re-read it 2 see what i wrote #no i didn't proff read this as u can tell ur welcome #just realised there's no yellow either si just pretend girl and legard are yellow #there all just stuipd little duos in duos who are constaly paralleling each other it so funny i hate them all #cahara #ragnvaldr #funger #fear and hunger termina #daan #nosramus #d'arce #enki #fagcat #sorry i mean pocketcat #pocketcat #rambles

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