#orbwin and chorb

[jube-art]

portable boyfriend, part two!

[downbaddetective]

CHORBWIN FANART PRETTY PLEASE?

Thank you for the request! 💙❤️

(Requests are open until December 15th)

[wordpress-blaze-157764418]

numb little bug

I want to start this off by saying—loud and proud—I am a BIG believer in mental health treatment, medication, therapy, Reiki, moon water, yelling into the void... whatever it takes to feel okay again when you’re not.

That said, this is not a post about bashing meds. This is a post about finding the right ones—and the very real hell of wandering through the wrong ones like you're in the world's most depressing pharmacy-themed escape room.

For years, I was in and out of medication. I always had this mental image of the version of me I wanted to be—happy, light, energetic, sarcastic in a charming way (not the burnt-out feral goblin flavor). And for a while, I was that person. I was active, smiling, fun, present. A good mom, a good friend, a good me.

Then life did that thing it does. You know, where it sucker punches you and then asks why you’re crying.

Between COVID, burnout, isolation, and the thousand papercuts of adulthood, I slowly became a version of myself I didn’t recognize. Introverted became full-on hermit. I hated leaving the house. Hated even thinking about it. I was trapped in a cycle: Work. Home. Despair. Insomnia. Repeat.

And because life wasn’t spicy enough, I started drinking way too much and mentally berating myself for not “getting it together.” I thought, I used to be strong. I used to be fun. I used to laugh more. So, like any exhausted, overwhelmed, emotionally constipated healthcare worker, I went to the doctor.

We ran through the Greatest Hits: insomnia, panic attacks, depression, that “everything is wrong but I’m still somehow functioning” vibe. I’d always been high-strung, perfectionistic, a bit of a control freak (Type A, but make it spicy). Eventually I was tested for ADHD and autism—and surprise! My brain’s just a limited-edition collector’s item.

I left with a pile of prescriptions and a flicker of hope that maybe this was the start of getting myself back.

At first? Magic. I was sleeping. I wasn’t panicking. I didn’t care so much if the towels weren’t folded the “correct” way (and that’s saying something). But… I still wasn’t happy. I didn’t feel like me. I felt numb. And yeah, numb can feel like “better” compared to raw despair—but eventually, it’s just another prison.

New meds, new hope, same result.

I was exhausted no matter how long I slept. I was hiding in bed from my own life. I watched my dogs—who just wanted to play with me—lay by my bed like little furry emotional support sentinels. My kids needed me, and I couldn’t reach them from whatever fog I was buried in.

It got dark. Really dark. Like “do I even want to keep doing this?” dark.

I finally sat with my little cocktail of pills and wondered: what if part of what’s wrong is right here in this pile? SSRI after SSRI, they numbed me, but never healed me.

So I did what you’re not supposed to do (don’t be like me, seriously), and I stopped everything except my sleeping meds. Withdrawal was like fighting a demon in a Walmart parking lot with flip-flops on—but eventually, I surfaced. And something weird happened.

I started to feel… better.

But of course, life tossed another curveball and my anxiety and panic attacks came storming back in like they were late for a meeting. So I went back to the doctor, hat in hand, feeling like an idiot. Another SSRI. Round four. Spoiler: it did not fix me. I was back to dragging myself out of bed, missing out on life, watching time with my kids and dogs vanish into a medicated haze.

So yeah, I finally said, enough. We tried a different class—an SNRI this time, with Wellbutrin in the mix.

And then…

I. Woke. Up.

Like really woke up.

I felt rested without a pharmacy’s worth of pills. I cleaned my kitchen at 10 p.m. because I wanted to. I started talking with my kids again, asking questions about their lives and actually being present. I didn’t cancel plans last-minute. I walked the dogs. I got up the first time my alarm rang. I didn't feel like I was existing in some doomsday fog. I started living again.

The worst part of feeling good again is realizing how long you didn’t. How much you missed. How much of yourself you lost—and how alone you felt in that hollow space.

And I’ll be honest, I still wake up wondering if it’ll slip away again. If it’ll all fade back into the haze of too-much-and-not-enough.

Because here’s the truth people don’t talk about enough: not all meds work the same for everyone. SSRIs, SNRIs, tricyclics… it’s all trial and error. And error. And another error. And then maybe a win.

You think you’re doing everything right—taking your meds, seeing your doctor, checking all the boxes—and you still feel like a ghost in your own life. And worse, no one gets it. They don’t understand why you can’t just “come out,” or “go for a walk,” or “snap out of it.” They don’t understand the bone-deep shame of missing your kid’s milestones because you were too tired or anxious to get off the couch. They don’t get that you want to do things, but your brain has other plans—usually involving doom spirals or hiding under weighted blankets.

But if you’re in that space right now, let me say this: Don’t settle for half of you.

Keep going. Try the next thing. Advocate for yourself like your life depends on it—because sometimes, it really does.

I’m still on medication. I’ll likely always be. But now, I’m on the right ones. And for the first time in years, I feel like myself again.

Not numb. Not empty. Not just surviving.

Me. Whole. Here. Living.

And that… makes all the difference.

Source: numb little bug

[alterego77]

Day 4 Prompt: orb

[technically-human]

Absolutely adore your art of the boys as orbs. Please know that every time you post a new comic with them my day gets 120% better

Thank you!! Hope it still works with tiny versions :)

[khorazir]

Charles and Orbwin

The second of two donation raffle drawings for @laurentlink The companion piece of Edwin and Chorb is here

Will post both of them together tomorrow.

[2ndfannypack]

I love every time people talk about them going into orb form and the other carrying them around.

I love you Orbwin and Chorb

[wordpress-blaze-157764418]

numb little bug

I want to start this off by saying—loud and proud—I am a BIG believer in mental health treatment, medication, therapy, Reiki, moon water, yelling into the void... whatever it takes to feel okay again when you’re not.

That said, this is not a post about bashing meds. This is a post about finding the right ones—and the very real hell of wandering through the wrong ones like you're in the world's most depressing pharmacy-themed escape room.

For years, I was in and out of medication. I always had this mental image of the version of me I wanted to be—happy, light, energetic, sarcastic in a charming way (not the burnt-out feral goblin flavor). And for a while, I was that person. I was active, smiling, fun, present. A good mom, a good friend, a good me.

Then life did that thing it does. You know, where it sucker punches you and then asks why you’re crying.

Between COVID, burnout, isolation, and the thousand papercuts of adulthood, I slowly became a version of myself I didn’t recognize. Introverted became full-on hermit. I hated leaving the house. Hated even thinking about it. I was trapped in a cycle: Work. Home. Despair. Insomnia. Repeat.

And because life wasn’t spicy enough, I started drinking way too much and mentally berating myself for not “getting it together.” I thought, I used to be strong. I used to be fun. I used to laugh more. So, like any exhausted, overwhelmed, emotionally constipated healthcare worker, I went to the doctor.

We ran through the Greatest Hits: insomnia, panic attacks, depression, that “everything is wrong but I’m still somehow functioning” vibe. I’d always been high-strung, perfectionistic, a bit of a control freak (Type A, but make it spicy). Eventually I was tested for ADHD and autism—and surprise! My brain’s just a limited-edition collector’s item.

I left with a pile of prescriptions and a flicker of hope that maybe this was the start of getting myself back.

At first? Magic. I was sleeping. I wasn’t panicking. I didn’t care so much if the towels weren’t folded the “correct” way (and that’s saying something). But… I still wasn’t happy. I didn’t feel like me. I felt numb. And yeah, numb can feel like “better” compared to raw despair—but eventually, it’s just another prison.

New meds, new hope, same result.

I was exhausted no matter how long I slept. I was hiding in bed from my own life. I watched my dogs—who just wanted to play with me—lay by my bed like little furry emotional support sentinels. My kids needed me, and I couldn’t reach them from whatever fog I was buried in.

It got dark. Really dark. Like “do I even want to keep doing this?” dark.

I finally sat with my little cocktail of pills and wondered: what if part of what’s wrong is right here in this pile? SSRI after SSRI, they numbed me, but never healed me.

So I did what you’re not supposed to do (don’t be like me, seriously), and I stopped everything except my sleeping meds. Withdrawal was like fighting a demon in a Walmart parking lot with flip-flops on—but eventually, I surfaced. And something weird happened.

I started to feel… better.

But of course, life tossed another curveball and my anxiety and panic attacks came storming back in like they were late for a meeting. So I went back to the doctor, hat in hand, feeling like an idiot. Another SSRI. Round four. Spoiler: it did not fix me. I was back to dragging myself out of bed, missing out on life, watching time with my kids and dogs vanish into a medicated haze.

So yeah, I finally said, enough. We tried a different class—an SNRI this time, with Wellbutrin in the mix.

And then…

I. Woke. Up.

Like really woke up.

I felt rested without a pharmacy’s worth of pills. I cleaned my kitchen at 10 p.m. because I wanted to. I started talking with my kids again, asking questions about their lives and actually being present. I didn’t cancel plans last-minute. I walked the dogs. I got up the first time my alarm rang. I didn't feel like I was existing in some doomsday fog. I started living again.

The worst part of feeling good again is realizing how long you didn’t. How much you missed. How much of yourself you lost—and how alone you felt in that hollow space.

And I’ll be honest, I still wake up wondering if it’ll slip away again. If it’ll all fade back into the haze of too-much-and-not-enough.

Because here’s the truth people don’t talk about enough: not all meds work the same for everyone. SSRIs, SNRIs, tricyclics… it’s all trial and error. And error. And another error. And then maybe a win.

You think you’re doing everything right—taking your meds, seeing your doctor, checking all the boxes—and you still feel like a ghost in your own life. And worse, no one gets it. They don’t understand why you can’t just “come out,” or “go for a walk,” or “snap out of it.” They don’t understand the bone-deep shame of missing your kid’s milestones because you were too tired or anxious to get off the couch. They don’t get that you want to do things, but your brain has other plans—usually involving doom spirals or hiding under weighted blankets.

But if you’re in that space right now, let me say this: Don’t settle for half of you.

Keep going. Try the next thing. Advocate for yourself like your life depends on it—because sometimes, it really does.

I’m still on medication. I’ll likely always be. But now, I’m on the right ones. And for the first time in years, I feel like myself again.

Not numb. Not empty. Not just surviving.

Me. Whole. Here. Living.

And that… makes all the difference.

Source: numb little bug

[that-trans-autistic-guy]

The Adventures of Orbwin and Chorb: A Masterlist

This is where any information pertaining to Orbwin and Chorb is stored for any use and for all to see. Written by that-trans-autistic-guy, with an assist by @technically-human who made the first depiction of the orb boys. List is to be updated, please message @that-trans-autistic-guy to request an addition to the list. Posts/fics tagged with the tags attached to this post will be easier to find for everyone who loves the orb boys :D

Traits, Attributes and Ideas

Ship name is Chorbwin

The orbs can purr in the same way cats do. Results in a visual vibration and soft sound. They have limited awareness in orb form, so it follows the feelings of safety and comfort.

The gravitate towards each other slightly, not unlike magnets

Often just soft, warm light but can occasionally be in their hero colors: blue for Edwin, red for Charles

The orbs give off warmth, one the dead and living alike can feel

The girls call them “The Orb Boy Detectives”

Charles made Orbwin a tiny ghost costume

Fanfics

Carry These Torches For You - that_trans_autistic_guy

You Said, “I’ll Never Leave You Alone” - Aster_Flower114

A Better Place, A Better Time - TheFanficMustFlow

Why Do I Tire of Counting Sheep? - carpediemma

The Many Forms of Phantoms - thegirlofthorns

Orbing With Edwin and Charles - grammarglamour

Frippery - Baby_Spinach

Professional Networking - RoseGanymede95

This Little Light of Mine, Let It Shine - ingridmatthews

Let Me Watch Over You - waywardsonsanddaughters

They’re in Lorb (Orb Love) - DarkStars

First Time For Everything - Anonymous

Orbwin’s Day Off - Quicksweetdreamer

A Blue Cap and a Red Jacket - williamvapespeare

The Glow That Dazzles My Eyes - Cesare

Other Types of Intimacy - Asidian

The Case of the Wilson Brothers - justafandomfollower

Your Voice Lights Me Up Like Nothing Else Ever Could - slyvir

Safe - Violet_Baudelaire

“You Must Make Him Feel Really Safe.” - slaycious_royal

Lost Marbles - bluetack

Run Your Fingers Through My Soul - Hse11z5

Doing Nothing With You - PurpleParanoia

Hold Me Tight and Don’t Let Go - cordelianoir

Get Orbed, Losers - kittymaine

Sweettalk My Heart - NuriaSchnee

Listening To Your Voice, I’m Orbin Toward You - slyvir

Ooh You Make Me Live - Dead_but_still_sarcastic

So Cute I Could Just Eat You Up - eunoise

Y’know I Worry - ahyperactivehero

The Case of the Missing Blood Blade - shadyphoenix

Fanart

Recharging - @technically-human

Recharging II - @technically-human

The Infamous Puppy Debacle of ‘94 - @technically-human

Niko and Orbwin - @gaypanicattackonlegs

Orbwin in Charles’ Jacket - @fellow-fandom-fruitifier

Portable Boyfriend - @jube-art

Portable Boyfriend Part 2 - @jube-art

The Girls and Chorbwin - @arisprite

Chorbwin But Colored - @terresdebrume

Cherishing Each Other’s True Forms - @a-jasminator

ORBWIN - @random-art-p3rson

Painland Week Orb Boys - @etheriiart

Chorbwin is my new OTP - @fellow-fandom-fruitifier

IRL Orbwin and Chorb (Glass Boys) - @neurodivergent-fangirling

Chorbwin Accessories - @aceofturtles

Confession: Orb Edition - @every-moment-a-different-sound

The Best Orb I Know - @every-moment-a-different-sound

Chorbwin in Elysian Fields - @acheel-and-cat

Spaghetti and Chorb - @aceofturtles

Chorbwin w/ Accessories - @edwinspaynes

Notes from Circles?? - @thesfromhms 

Tiny Orbwin and Chorb - @technically-human

Gay - @sawtism101

DBD Brain Takeover - @disgruntled-rat

Mirror Chorbwin - @marbearmarigold

Lantern Chorbwin - @aria-hannah

Death Chorbwin - @marbearmarigold

Eternity Chorbwin - @marbearmarigold

Happy Chorbwin - @minkbumblebee-blog

Light Orbwin - @beetlebug—1

Earring Orbwin - @margo-mania

Fem!Orbwin - @technically-human

Lantern Chorbwin - @marbearmarigold

Chorbwin… But Lantern - @disgruntled-rat 

The Annoying Chorb - @thesfromhms

Lighthouse Chorbwin - @marbearmarigold

Day Four Prompt Chorbwin - @alterego77 

Chorbwin Backpack Cuddles - @dead-but-still-sarcastic

Doll Chorbwin - @marbearmarigold 

Love Chorbwin - @marbearmarigold

Glow Paint Chorbwin - @lesbicosmos

Spooky Chorbwin - @marbearmarigold

A Chorbwin Request - @downbaddetective

Orbwin Light - @etheriiart

Collection Feat. Orbwin - @unicorngunter

Orbwin’s Ghost Costume - @aceofturtles 

Orbwin Jack’O Lantern - @aceofturtles

Pastel Chorbwin - @starsandaces24

Chorb Light - @pippin-katz

Books Chorb - @marbearmarigold

Misc. Chorbwin Posts

Simple Orbs - @crosnt

Great Orb Incident of ‘02 - @edwinspaynes

First Sighting of ‘Chorbwin’ - @ace-misplaced

“ChOrBWIn” - @pippin-katz

Hyperactive Chorb - @khrorazir

Chorbwin Comic - @2ndfannypack

The Orb Boy Wizard - @succstosucculent

Cursed Chorbwin Gifs

Chorbwin Cookies - @dextheartist

Chorbwin Boba Meme - @etheriiart

Photo Of Orbwin - @edwinspaynes

Chorb Animation - @thesfromhms

Crossover Chorb Animation - @aria-hannah

The Orb Cameo - @moonikabear

[majorlb]

Charles Rowland Week: Chorb

Having a little nap in Edwins ribcage

[moonikabear]

🔵🔴ORB CAMEO!!🔴🔵

George and Jayden finally find out about Orbwin and Chorb and make up their own irl Orb names!

I got this cameo as a gift from @im-perfectly-normal-about-this and I absolutely love it! It's so fun how silly they are with the orb names <3

[etheriiart]

sometimes a meme idea puts you in a chokehold as soon as you wake up. inspired by the twitter comments on my last post

[wordpress-blaze-157764418]

numb little bug

I want to start this off by saying—loud and proud—I am a BIG believer in mental health treatment, medication, therapy, Reiki, moon water, yelling into the void... whatever it takes to feel okay again when you’re not.

That said, this is not a post about bashing meds. This is a post about finding the right ones—and the very real hell of wandering through the wrong ones like you're in the world's most depressing pharmacy-themed escape room.

For years, I was in and out of medication. I always had this mental image of the version of me I wanted to be—happy, light, energetic, sarcastic in a charming way (not the burnt-out feral goblin flavor). And for a while, I was that person. I was active, smiling, fun, present. A good mom, a good friend, a good me.

Then life did that thing it does. You know, where it sucker punches you and then asks why you’re crying.

Between COVID, burnout, isolation, and the thousand papercuts of adulthood, I slowly became a version of myself I didn’t recognize. Introverted became full-on hermit. I hated leaving the house. Hated even thinking about it. I was trapped in a cycle: Work. Home. Despair. Insomnia. Repeat.

And because life wasn’t spicy enough, I started drinking way too much and mentally berating myself for not “getting it together.” I thought, I used to be strong. I used to be fun. I used to laugh more. So, like any exhausted, overwhelmed, emotionally constipated healthcare worker, I went to the doctor.

We ran through the Greatest Hits: insomnia, panic attacks, depression, that “everything is wrong but I’m still somehow functioning” vibe. I’d always been high-strung, perfectionistic, a bit of a control freak (Type A, but make it spicy). Eventually I was tested for ADHD and autism—and surprise! My brain’s just a limited-edition collector’s item.

I left with a pile of prescriptions and a flicker of hope that maybe this was the start of getting myself back.

At first? Magic. I was sleeping. I wasn’t panicking. I didn’t care so much if the towels weren’t folded the “correct” way (and that’s saying something). But… I still wasn’t happy. I didn’t feel like me. I felt numb. And yeah, numb can feel like “better” compared to raw despair—but eventually, it’s just another prison.

New meds, new hope, same result.

I was exhausted no matter how long I slept. I was hiding in bed from my own life. I watched my dogs—who just wanted to play with me—lay by my bed like little furry emotional support sentinels. My kids needed me, and I couldn’t reach them from whatever fog I was buried in.

It got dark. Really dark. Like “do I even want to keep doing this?” dark.

I finally sat with my little cocktail of pills and wondered: what if part of what’s wrong is right here in this pile? SSRI after SSRI, they numbed me, but never healed me.

So I did what you’re not supposed to do (don’t be like me, seriously), and I stopped everything except my sleeping meds. Withdrawal was like fighting a demon in a Walmart parking lot with flip-flops on—but eventually, I surfaced. And something weird happened.

I started to feel… better.

But of course, life tossed another curveball and my anxiety and panic attacks came storming back in like they were late for a meeting. So I went back to the doctor, hat in hand, feeling like an idiot. Another SSRI. Round four. Spoiler: it did not fix me. I was back to dragging myself out of bed, missing out on life, watching time with my kids and dogs vanish into a medicated haze.

So yeah, I finally said, enough. We tried a different class—an SNRI this time, with Wellbutrin in the mix.

And then…

I. Woke. Up.

Like really woke up.

I felt rested without a pharmacy’s worth of pills. I cleaned my kitchen at 10 p.m. because I wanted to. I started talking with my kids again, asking questions about their lives and actually being present. I didn’t cancel plans last-minute. I walked the dogs. I got up the first time my alarm rang. I didn't feel like I was existing in some doomsday fog. I started living again.

The worst part of feeling good again is realizing how long you didn’t. How much you missed. How much of yourself you lost—and how alone you felt in that hollow space.

And I’ll be honest, I still wake up wondering if it’ll slip away again. If it’ll all fade back into the haze of too-much-and-not-enough.

Because here’s the truth people don’t talk about enough: not all meds work the same for everyone. SSRIs, SNRIs, tricyclics… it’s all trial and error. And error. And another error. And then maybe a win.

You think you’re doing everything right—taking your meds, seeing your doctor, checking all the boxes—and you still feel like a ghost in your own life. And worse, no one gets it. They don’t understand why you can’t just “come out,” or “go for a walk,” or “snap out of it.” They don’t understand the bone-deep shame of missing your kid’s milestones because you were too tired or anxious to get off the couch. They don’t get that you want to do things, but your brain has other plans—usually involving doom spirals or hiding under weighted blankets.

But if you’re in that space right now, let me say this: Don’t settle for half of you.

Keep going. Try the next thing. Advocate for yourself like your life depends on it—because sometimes, it really does.

I’m still on medication. I’ll likely always be. But now, I’m on the right ones. And for the first time in years, I feel like myself again.

Not numb. Not empty. Not just surviving.

Me. Whole. Here. Living.

And that… makes all the difference.

Source: numb little bug

[poltergeist-poison]

HELLO TUMBLR! i made an account just for the occasion, so happy anniversary to our dear show <3 !! here's a dump from my sketchbook as an offering

[every-moment-a-different-sound]

Borbara is on the case!

A silly lil present for @idliketobeatree and @shadowflame84, hope it makes you both chuckle 💜💜💜

[mellxncollie]

the Orb Gifset that probably would have only been 2 or 3 gifs if not for @technically-human's incredible artwork and this fandom's ability to take a concept and run with it :) as well as @manicpixiedreamedwins mentioning (over a month ago omg) that there weren't many/any gifs of them (at the time)

[downbaddetective]

On one of my recent rewatches (note taking for color analysis), my partner sat and watched with me, and I thought I would share some of the things he had thoughts on in no particular order:

•He also believed that Niko's sprite attention cloud was a physical manifestation of soulmatedness/lesbianism directed at Crystal like the rest of us did

•He owns an older Miata, so he was pretty pleased with the fact that Esther owned one (the first time I had watched, I involuntarily clocked it (I am not a car person), so when she confirmed that I was correct in the last episode I had told him that he should be proud of himself, lol.)

•Loved Esther up until the very end

•He enjoyed the music

•I don't think he was fully sold on Niko at first, but she quickly became one of his favorites

●He liked Crystal the most from the beginning (He asked how people hated her because I talked to him about my frustration with some weird takes that were going on, to each their own, but that one also still confuses me.)

•'You're my best mate' "oof, not the friend zone"

•Both Esther and Niko seemed to have all of his favorite lines

•I accidentally spoiled the fact that Niko 'dies' but I didn't say anything about what happens after the fact, so when the last couple of episodes were foreshadowing her dying, he basically went 'but I don't want her to die :('

•In addition to the previous point, the morning before we watched the last two episodes (we had to watch it in chunks), he was talking about how he doubted that we would get renewed (not in a mean way) but the last episode closed out he immediately said he was angry there was no season 2 and that this show deserves at least a season 2

•He wasn't fully convinced that it's Niko in the Igloo at the end

•He wants Jenny to go to London because he loves her

•He got frustrated with nobody listening to Tragic Mick's story and cheered when Niko asked him to continue

•He wants Mick to be able to be a Walrus again

•He essentially said 'My god, he wants to fuck the cat' lol

•He struggled to describe the vibes he was getting off of the Cat King, he has yet to find the words

•He loved the cats (probably because they said fuck and other such words)

•He also enjoyed the dandelion sprites

•There wasn't a whole lot that he had to say about Edwin and Charles, just kinda vibed

•He apparently missed the Cat King's cat form the first time, so he saw the second instance and said,"Of course he's orange"

•I also asked the rhetorical question, "Who told the ghost population of Port Townsend that the Dead Boy Detectives and their new medium were there?" Without hesitation, he went, "It was the Cat King."

•He has been exposed to Orbwin and Chorb content on here and is deeply entertained by it, so he looked really worried after the explosion at the butcher shop so to help I pointed and said "Look, it's Chorb!" It helped

So, needless to say, if you haven't already watched it, you should watch Dead Boy Detectives.

[arrow-jsy]

I really like how many people have desided that edwin and charles turn into orbs when super tired... like we dont know how (from tbe show at least, I know nothing from tbe comics) how the boys turned into orbs to be put into esthers little glass purse, my assumption was she did somethinf to them but i love that the fandom has been like no they just do that sometimes

[khorazir]

Edwin and Chorb

One of two donation raffle drawings for @laurentlink The companion piece of Charles and Orbin will follow soon (linearts of both pieces are here).