#outer layer activation

[ingoampt]

Day 11 _ Activation Function

Activation Functions in Neural Networks Activation Functions in Neural Networks: Why They Matter Activation functions are pivotal in neural networks, transforming the input of each neuron to its output signal, thus determining the neuron’s activation level. This process allows neural networks to handle tasks such as image recognition and language processing effectively. The Role of Different…

[silent-sentinels]

we have this thing where we gotta take off our hoodie before we sleep or we feel suffocated but also when we wake up in our tshirt its too cold and we don't want to get out of bed.

[etheries1015]

He walks in on you touching yourself... (18+ Minors DNI)

General warnings: Gender-neutral reader. Can be read as established or non-established relationship, completely up to whatever your cup of tea is... (Reader for Azul and the tweels is pretty confident and daring. be warned.) Also not proof read.

TW: Touching himself while watching you masturbate, 'unbeknownst' to you. Being caught, mentions of heat.

Featuring: Lilia (separate) , Azul (separate), and the tweels (together...might be OOC. I don't write for them often wahhhh)

Lilia

It was obvious by the sounds of wetness and low whines ringing through the hall what was conspiring in your bedroom. Lilia had dropped by simply to play some games or to say hello, but was pleasantly greeted by the glorious sight before him after making his way down the hall towards your sleeping chambers. With the door cracked slightly, the red-eyed fae had clear few of your naked body sprawled on your bed, hands working at your groin with such vigor and excitement. Fluids ran down your thighs and a layer of sweat clearly coating your flushed body, telling him you have been at this for quite some time. With a raised eyebrow and a smirk quirking on the side of his lips, he could feel his erection pressing against the cloth of his pants practically begging to be freed.

He had little shame when it came to things of pleasure, he himself thoroughly enjoyed indulging in such activities when time permitted. It's a normal part of life, and although he felt mildly guilty for thinking such things when you were touching yourself unaware of his gaze...all reason left his mind the moment your lips uttered his name in a moan that would have been barely audible for a normal human to hear. His eyes open in surprise with his smirk turning into a dark grin, fangs poking out as he bit his lip and began to slowly unzip his trousers.

Freeing himself from his confines, he watched your fingers eagerly working themselves in your hole and the other teasing the outer parts of your body. He thought to himself how much he wanted to be inside you as his cock twitched, yet also wondering how he could just stand there and watch you get off, knowing it was his image in your mind while you so eagerly found your release. Would he ruin the mood if he opened the door and presented himself at that moment? Would you be embarrassed and no longer in the mood? He slowly began using a hand to pump his cock while he watched you through the crack of the door, a satisfied sigh escaping his lips and lustful eyes watching earnestly as you switch positions. You were so...thorough in the way you touched yourself, Lilia almost found himself envious at your own hands stroking attentively to your sensitive spots rather than him.

The second time you moaned his name, he broke in his resolve of keeping his endeavor behind your door a secret falter rather quickly. Removing his hand from his throbbing and flushed cock and lazily slipping his boxers back over his erection, Lilia allowed his presence to be heard as he creaked the door open. Hearing your movements stop suddenly and a small (and rather adorable) gasp escape your lips, the fae watched as you were quick to cover up with the sheets and face flushed a deep scarlet that only enhanced his desire to ruin you further.

"Now now~" Lilia purred, "You were so vocal before, moaning my name like an animal in heat..." He crawled onto the bed, leaning towards you as your gaze so obviously flickered from his piercing eyes to the tent in his boxers, taking note of his unzipped pants and wet spot that soaked through the cloth. His hand quickly grabbed your cheeks and lifted your gaze to his, lips crashing against yours.

"How about you moan for me again, my precious bat? Hmm? I wonder just how loud I could get you the mewl when rather than your fingers, it's my cock buried deep inside you..."

Azul

Azul had noticed something was awry when you weren't there to greet him immediately at the entrance of Ramshackle. The door had been unlocked, almost as if inviting him right in without a worry in the world. He often scolded you for such acts, being rather wary of intruders himself and understanding your disposition of being the sole human in the dorm, he was certain to give you a lecture as he often had.

Walking deeper into the dorm attempting to find you, he could smell something sweet and alluring, something that slowly yet almost simultaneously left his cheeks flushing a slight tint of pink and skin moist with heat at the touch. It was almost a sickening sweet smell- something that he was familiar with only by the definitions of the textbooks.

Heat. Someone was in heat, he could feel it affecting him as such. He took a gulp as his instincts left him wandering mindlessly to the source, hearing the feeble pants of a familiar voice and the sound of wet and sticky skin filling the air as he came closer to the source of the sickeningly sweet scent. Azul began trembling as if he were entering some sort of forbidden den in which he should not be entering. He noticed at the end of the hall a door open, wider than one may think should be. Curious and trembling with anticipation, the merman peaked his head through the rather wide crack of the door, stumbling upon a rather...interesting scene.

He couldn't help but let out an audible gasp, eyes widening before slapping a hand over his mouth and looking away. He pressed his back against the wall, looking down at the clear erection that poked at the cloth of his dress pants. It hurt almost, enough that Azul found himself almost unable to move with the itching need to unzip his pants and release himself of this burning sensation immediately. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see what he had just witnessed...the beloved prefect, someone who was well respected and known around the campus, legs wide on top of the blankets for anyone to see as your fingers buried deep inside your hole with your other hand twisting your hardened nipple. Your hair was a sweaty tangled mess, mouth open lips glistening with drool and lust.

Azul was not used to such erotic behaviors being so close and in eyeshot of him, much less affecting him the way you seemed to be. He couldn't help but guiltily open his eyes and glance again, watching through the cracked door and rubbing his legs uncomfortably. He let out a deep sigh as his hands moved with a mind of their own, dipping the inside of his pants and boxers in an attempt to stroke himself for some sort of release of the discomfort his hardened cock had caused. He watched you with his mouth ajar, his heart pounding so loud he almost feared you would hear it. Your moans began to become louder, almost as if...on purpose. Azul continued to rub his shaft with hesitant and trembling hands, before a moment passed and it seemed...like you two had made eye contact.

It was almost a split second, where he felt as if your gaze had locked onto his through the door. Yet you turned your attention back to your naked body, a sly smile crawling onto your lips. That split second cause his heart to drop straight into the pit of his stomach with guilt, yet at the same time such risk left his body trembling as he used one hand to muffle a high pitched whine that escaped his lips as he shamefully finished in his pants almost as quickly as he had begun. With legs that were shaking and a heart beating so rapid he felt it would pop out of his chest at any second, the merman pursed his lips and wiped his brow, finally finding the courage to use his legs to make a hasty exit...you were quick to interrupt his escape.

"Awwee...did you cum already, Azul?" He froze as you called his name, Azul letting out a yelp of surprise and hung his head low in almost shame.

"No need to be shy," You called out, "Come here. Let your prefect take care of our pretty little octopus..."

Jade + Floyd

You were a brazen soul, something that both Jade and Floyd would admire. Often times your brave endeavors left them astonished and intrigued all the same. The three of you were doing your weekly movie night, but the two could already tell something was different in your actions. The way you would rub your legs together and the sweet scent wafting off of your figure left the two side-eyeing each other with knowing intent. The movie was the last thing on your mind, for under the sheets the warmth that was leaving your bottom half aching with desire left your hands wandering beneath the blankets almost unable to hold back your urges.

"Are you alright?" Jade inquired, watching your focused face flush as you looked up at him with surprise at the question. He looked down at you almost knowingly, his typical smile leaving you unaware of the thoughts that were behind those eyes. You gave him a slight smile and a nod of your head, burying yourself deeper in the sheets and halting your hands from going beneath the cloth of your pants like you so desperately wanted to. A few moments of the movie going on, and you were vividly aware of where each of the twins were on both sides of you.

Floyd was brazenly wrapping an arm from behind your shoulders, while Jade sat with one of your legs intertwining with yours beneath the blanket. You found yourself throbbing more intensely below the pile of warm blankets, the heat becoming far more unbearable as your hands began to snake underneath the blankets and into your pants with no self-control and little regard for the two attractive men who were accompanying you. You pursed your lips and inched your fingers toward your groin, a needy sigh escaping your trembling lips as you began to slowly gratify yourself careful not to be loud or obvious. You couldn't help it, you were so desperately seeking release, and patience wasn't always one of your strong suits.

This went on for a mere minute before a hand landed on top of yours through the mountain of cloth that separated your skin from his hand, Jades face peering closer to yours with eyes glinting with mischief as his nose pressed against yours. "You're rather distracted," Jade hummed, eyes closing as he disregarded the movie that was still playing, "If I remove these blankets, what do you think we will see? Hmm? Something naughty?" you gave a shy nod in response, almost as if testing them to see if their blatant words would become materialized in something more. He glanced up to his brother, Floyd who had a wide toothy grin and a tilt of his head. He moved forward to take a whiff of you, his own cheeks becoming flushed a deep scarlet color while pulling you closer to his side.

"little Shrimpy is in heeatt..." Floyd sang, "I didn't know humans can get that, too. But it's sweet, real sweet," He purred. Jade moved away from you, inching the blanket off of your body to reveal yourself with legs held together and hands taken away from pleasuring your sensitive spot. At the same time, You could hear the unzipping of pants as they both released themselves from their pants, you watched in excitement and lustful eyes as the eels began doing as you had done, shamelessly and brazenly touching themselves with little regard for the place and company they were in. The twins encouraged you by each using a hand to grab a knee and spread your legs open, showing your arousal as your own hands twitched with anticipation and neediness. Shy at the whole endeavor, you found yourself hesitating despite their eagerness.

"Don't get shy now," Jade said, beginning to stroke himself and urging you to do the same.

"Yeah, You started this," Floyd pointed out, "let's have fun together...isn't that the whole point?"

"You must be trying so hard to hold back, aren't you? Let it all go...you're good at surprising us, and were so desperate a mere moment ago.... So go on, give us a show."

[reiding-writing]

Hi :)

Could I maybe get a two-for-one for your work, Deprivation? Maybe where reader takes Spencer home with them and they do some skin to skin cuddles and he just melts and sleeps for more than a plane ride?

Or if you don’t like that idea, just any continuation of Spencer being so afraid of touch but desperately needing it? I feel that in my soul.

I love your work so much, you’re beyond fantastic!

SALVATION — SPENCER REID!

after spencer gets some rest on the plane ride home, you offer for him to stay the night with you.

spencer reid x gn!reader | 1.0k | h/c | masterlist.

part one.

event masterlist.

a/n — thank you so much ml, i forgot how much i loved writing stuff like this, spencer needs so many hugs man

Your apartment was warm, a comforting contrast to the sterile jet and the cold night outside.

Spencer seemed out of place at first, standing awkwardly by the door as you set your keys on the table. You could see the fatigue in his eyes, the way his shoulders slumped as if the weight of the case still clung to him.

“Why don’t you get comfortable?” you suggested gently, motioning toward the couch.

He hesitates, lingering in the doorway like he’s intruding, like he’s unceremoniously encroaching on your space despite the fact that you’d insisted he spend the night at your apartment, insisted that he was going to get a good night’s rest even if it meant not getting one yourself.

It makes him feel bad. Guilty. You should be doing this for him, or feeling like you have to.

“Spencer,” You sigh, “Please,”

He reluctantly relents at the hint of desperation in your tone, toeing off his shoes and sinking into the cushions of your couch. His fingers twitched nervously, his mind still racing even in the quiet.

You brewed tea in the silence, not wanting to push him into talking if he wasn’t ready but wanting to offer him something—something to show that you cared, that you wanted him to feel safe and comfortable with you.

When you came back, you set the mugs on the coffee table, then sat next to him, close, but not impeding on his personal bubble.

The air felt thick with the unsaid, but you waited patiently, letting him come to you in his own time.

After a few minutes of silence echoed only through soft sips from your drinks, Spencer finally spoke, his voice small. “I… I can’t seem to turn my brain off. It’s like, no matter how exhausted I am, I can’t stop thinking about everything. It’s just… always there.”

Your heart ached for him. You could see how much he was carrying, how much he was trying to hold together on his own.

“You don’t have to do that tonight,” you said softly, reaching out to place a hand on his arm. “You don’t have to keep holding it all together.”

He looked at you, his eyes glassy with exhaustion and something deeper. Vulnerability. “I don’t know how to… stop.”

You scooted closer, your fingers gently brushing his. “Come here,” you whispered, your voice gentle but firm. “Skin-to-skin contact can help calm your nervous system. Let me hold you for a while,”

Spencer’s eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t pull away.

You were really pulling his own moves against him.

And you weren’t even wrong. It would indeed chemically help calm down his nervous system through releasing oxytocin and serotonin, not to mention promoting activity of the oxytocinergic system.

So there was no excuse to not listen to you.

Slowly, cautiously, he allowed you to take his hand and guide him toward you. You both shed your outer layers—he pulled off his sweater, and you slipped out of your own long-sleeved shirt, leaving the soft barrier of your undershirts between you.

You pulled him into your embrace, wrapping your arms around him as he rested his head against your chest, your warmth surrounding him.

At first, Spencer was stiff, as if unsure how to allow himself to relax into you. But gradually, the tension in his body began to melt.

Your hands stroked soothing circles on his back, your heartbeat steady and grounding beneath his cheek. You could feel the way his breathing began to even out, slow and deep, as if the weight of the world was finally starting to lift.

“You’re safe,” you murmured, your lips brushing the top of his head. “It’s okay to rest.”

Spencer let out a shaky breath, his hands curling gently into your shirt as he allowed himself to surrender to the comfort you offered.

He pressed closer, his body seeking the warmth and safety that came with your touch, revelling in what he’d lost from you after the plane had landed back in D.C.

For the first time in what felt like forever, his mind began to quiet. The intrusive thoughts that normally plagued him began to fade, replaced by the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest, the gentle hum of your voice as you whispered reassurances into the dark.

“I’m still so tired,” he confessed, his voice breaking slightly as the weight of the admission hit him. “I know I slept on the plane but…”

“I know,” you whispered back, shaking your head softly and holding him tighter. “You don’t have to fight it anymore. Just sleep.”

And for the first time in weeks, maybe even months, Spencer allowed himself to let go. His body melted into yours, his breathing deepening as the exhaustion finally caught up to him.

Within minutes, he was asleep, completely relaxed in your arms.

You held him as he slept, your fingers still running through his hair, your heart swelling with a fierce protectiveness. He deserved this—this peace, this comfort—and you would give it to him for as long as he needed.

And as Spencer slept, you could almost see the tension lift from his features, his body finally at ease. He looked peaceful, truly peaceful, in a way you hadn’t seen in far too long.

You stayed there with him, letting him rest, knowing that when he woke up, you’d still be there, ready to hold him again. Ready to remind him that he wasn’t alone.

[bogleech]

I am thinking once again about plausible speculative mammals that would weaponize their parasites, and in my mind, one of them would live in North America alongside skunks and porcupines, completing a long overdue trifecta of funny woodland critter with a deeply unpleasant defensive strategy. CLOCKWISE: 1) A very large rodent that has its own alarmingly large fleas, like the real life fleas of mountain beavers. Most of its body is hairless with thick, wrinkled skin that discourages flea activity, so they're left with no choice but to concentrate in its big, bushy tail. A high concentration of blood vessels in the tail keep the fleas fed, and a low concentration of nerves keep them from being too irritating. When this animal gets upset it curls the tail over itself, spreading its fur so wide that the fleas feel exposed. Parting the fur of a wild animal is incidentally a surefire way to get a bunch of fleas jumping ship to you and immediately biting you. Now look at this mountain beaver flea next to a more normal size flea and imagine the pain:

2) A big ground-dwelling cousin of the silky anteater. A combination of long, course, tightly interwoven hairs and a thick underlying layer of fluff are impenetrable to most pests, but a bald patch of thick leathery skin on its back is an ideal attachment point for its specialized ticks, kind of like right whale callosities and whale lice. The anteater can sweat a thick, suffocating grease from this area that forces ticks to let go and scatter in search of another attachment point (LIKE YOU!!!! Leave wildlife alone!!!). Maybe It has pouchlike hairless underarms to serve as refuges for even more ticks, or ticks in their juvenile stage? If they co-evolved closely enough, the ticks could have developed an instinct to migrate up to the back only with their final molt. Maybe they're even as neurotoxic (to other animals) as Australia's paralysis tick? Maybe the ticks are also brightly colored, so predators can tell at a glance to stay away. 3) A desman-like animal, but maybe it's a marsupial or even a monotreme? I feel this one would have an unconventional symbiote; like how beavers have the only fur-dwelling beetles, sloths have their own moths and hairless bats have their own skin-dwelling earwigs. None of those examples, however, are parasites! As far as we know, all three of those insects just chill on those animals and possibly clean them. So what if this one had fur dwelling blister beetles? Blister beetles are a huge diverse group of beetles whose defensive secretions can severely burn skin, and accidentally ingesting a blister beetle can be deadly to even large mammals like horses. This guy's matted wool would be thick enough near the skin to shield it from its own insects, keeping them in the matted outer fluff, where they would maybe feed on whatever sustains beaver beetles (we actually aren't 100% sure! We just know it isn't blood!). If you make this thingy angry, it curls up like a pangolin, and anything that keeps messing around with the big hairball is probably going to keep pissing off, damaging or accidentally eating the worst beetles to ever do anything of those things to.

I also want to say I didn't think of names, but if one or all of these existed I wouldn't want them to get names like "tickbacked antsloth" or anything like that. They'd deserve their own original words like squirrel or fox or bear. But I think it should sound as nasty as they are to mess with. Like a vlykus or a thobb or a snentch. Probably any of these could be a snentch maybe. Nobody tell me if that's already an urbandictionary word for something worse, let me have snentch.

[kibermonakh]

spark-close hug.

due to the location of the t-cog in Tf:ONE, i think that cybetronian' spark is quite small and is not located in the chest itself, but rather in the solar plexus area... however, because of Soundwave's construction features, his spark is flattened between the inner side of his deck and the outer back panel.

another personal headcanon: sparks, being small part of The Allspark, emit a weak em-field full of peace and "i'm-home" feeling, but usually all bodyframe layers almost completely dump it unless spark chamber is opened. showing your spark to someone is not only an intimate gesture of trust for obvious reasons, but also a gesture of caring, a way to soothe and caress someone. [ sparklings and recently activated cybertronians are often tactile: nothing stops them from snuggling up to someone's chest in search of comfort ]

[nibeul]

(jedi oc) prodigy

[id: it's a drawing of a human Jedi oc with brown skin and dark brown hair. Said hair is done in two braids which are wrapped in a muted brown fabric and brown/black cuffs, and a lightning-shaped burn scar creeps from his neck to his right cheek. He wears a black, long sleeve tie shirt underneath his dark grey robes, and the sleeves of the outer layer are tied to his torso by tasuki. Brown wraps go down the length of his forearms and he wears a belt of a similar color. He is posed so that his arm is over his head and his lightsaber is in his hand and activated, showing off a blue blade. /end id]

[smokesandsonatas]

Twisted Wonderland but make it grounded in dark reality. I drafted this around late 2023 and I just finished this now, haha. As always read at your own discretion and enjoy!

Warnings: Implied cannibalism. Dread.

Characters: Floyd and Jade, Leona, Ruggie, Rook, Idia, Lillia, Malleus, Others.

Not beta read.

Food.

- Any substance consumed by an organism for nutritional support. A means for survival.

You’ve always known most of them are peculiar creatures. Sharp teeth, mismatched eyes, monstrous forms, fins that glint with predatory sharpness, and horns that pierce the sky with arrogant pride. They embody the villains from the old fairy tales back in your world, grotesque and terrifying in equal measure. You suppose they function like civilized beings—they’ve learned to blend into human society, after all—but you can’t help but notice just how different, how unnervingly similar, they are to one thing: food.

The dishes at this college are like nothing you've ever tasted. Perhaps it's because many of them are children of royalty, so even the cafeteria food tastes like something out of a king's banquet. The pickiness of their palates is evident in every bite, in every carefully crafted dish. But there are things you find more intriguing than their refined taste; something almost hypnotic about the way they eat, especially when they don't mind you watching.

The scent of something delicious invaded Ramshackle Dorm in the dead of night. You assumed Grim was cooking, as ridiculous as that sounded, but found the little gremlin snoozing soundly beside you. Maybe it was the ghosts? But as you descended the stairs, you found the kitchen empty, devoid of any culinary activity. One glance at the night sky over Sage’s Island told you it was around 3 AM—far too early for breakfast, and far too late for dinner.

You tried to go back to sleep, but the tantalizing scent of roasted meat kept you awake, gnawing at your resolve until you could no longer ignore the hunger pangs twisting your stomach. Leaving Grim behind, you draped the sheets over his body, muttering a promise to return soon. Your curiosity and hunger led you to the cafeteria, which should have been deserted at this hour, but to your surprise…

They were all there. The ones you’ve grown closest to.

They were gathered around a long, elegant table, the atmosphere eerily reminiscent of Mostro Lounge—dim lights casting soft, ominous shadows across their faces. The table was laden with exquisite, expensive cuts of meat, arranged in a feast fit for monsters. And in the center of it all, a massive stack of roasted meat commanded your attention.

It looked…perfect. The tenderloin, you assumed, was butter-soft, with a thick, moist cut that bled a light pink from the center. The outer layer was roasted to a flawless crisp. But something about the presentation unnerved you, a chill creeping up your spine.

The pile of meat looked too much like the carcass of a person. Or a beast, perhaps. It was hard to tell. But you could almost see the outline of a body, as though someone—someone about five or six feet tall—had been subjected to the furnace’s extreme heat, roasted beyond recognition. Was that hair you saw near what should have been the head? Before you could inspect further, a voice called out to you.

"Ah! You're here! Come and join us, Shrimpy!" Floyd’s voice rang out, cheerful and disturbingly eager. His sharp teeth gleamed in the dim light, rows of jagged edges that could tear through flesh with ease. Beside him, Jade chuckled, slicing into a slab of meat with surgical precision, the knife gliding through like it was cutting butter.

Your eyes scanned the gathering. At the head of the table sat Tsunotaro—Malleus, the prince of fae. You frowned, under the impression that he usually is not invited in gatherings like this. But he nodded at you, a small, regal acknowledgment. “I was invited by Lilia,” he explained, his voice low and melodic. You glanced at his plate—a half-eaten steak submerged in a thick, red sauce. The metallic, almost fishy scent wafted up, assaulting your senses.

Before you could react, Lilia appeared beside you, his small hand guiding you to a seat. His right hand held a wine glass filled with a creamy red liquid that clung to the inside of the chalice. You tried to dismiss the fact that it looked too much like blood—thick, viscous blood. Surely, wine wasn’t supposed to look like that, but who were you to judge?

“Bonjour, Trickster! ~” Rook’s voice whispered in your ear, and when you turned, you were met with a sight that made your stomach turn. The smell hit you first—foul, putrid, like a freshly killed animal left to rot. It was too strong, the copper and iron scent so overpowering you had to fight to keep your expression neutral.

You hope your face does not betray the constriction of your throat.

“Rook,” you managed to say, swallowing down the bile that threatened to rise. “What…uhm, what is that?”

Rook laughed, the sound as sharp as the glint in his eyes. “Liver pâté, my dear,” he said, twirling his fork. “If it’s a strong scent, I apologize. It’s from the raw liver I like to eat with the liver pâté.”

Raw…

You tried to ignore the word. Back in your world, people ate raw food—sushi, for instance. So whatever Rook had on his plate was none of your business. At least, that’s what you tried to tell yourself.

“Shishishi, the food is sure delicious, especially when I’m getting it for free!” A voice cackled, startling you. You almost jumped out of your seat at the sight of Ruggie, devouring his meal with a voracious appetite. His sharp teeth ripped through the flesh with ease, tearing the meat from the bone in one swift motion. Red droplets—blood?—splattered across his chin, and you watched in horror as his tongue darted out to lick it clean.

“Oi, Ruggie, have some manners,” Leona growled from beside him, his voice gruff and annoyed. He wasn’t eating, his plate already littered with bones, but he was sipping from a glass filled with a red liquid. You wanted to believe it was wine, but the scent…The scent was as repugnant as the raw liver on Rook’s plate. It was metallic, nauseating

—blood.

A shiver trickled down your spine.

That same scent wafted from Malleus and Lilia’s glasses, clinging to the air like a dark cloud.

“You’re one to talk!” Ruggie retorted, his mouth full of meat. “You’ve never eaten a rat before, Leona-san.”

You blinked. Did you hear him right?

Your train of thought was interrupted by Malleus’s voice from your left.

“Shroud,” the prince of fae said, his tone commanding yet gentle, “drink this and replenish your energy.” You watched as Malleus offered Idia the same drink he was consuming. And to your shock, Idia accepted, his expression one of reluctance.

“I don’t really mind drinking this stuff, but I just don’t like eating much…” The Ignihyde dorm leader mumbled, his voice trailing off. You glanced at his plate—a barely touched piece of ‘steak’ with a small cut in the corner, oozing something you didn’t want to identify.

You could barely breathe as you watched Idia reluctantly take a sip of the viscous liquid from Malleus's chalice. His face remained as pale as ever, though a faint hint of color touched his cheeks. The sight was unsettling, and you couldn't help but feel a creeping sense of dread tightening around your chest.

"Not a fan of solid food?" Jade's voice slithered into your thoughts, pulling you from the trance. His mismatched eyes glinted in the dim light as he calmly sliced through his portion of meat, each movement precise and almost too graceful. "It's an acquired taste," he continued, offering you a smile that somehow did nothing to ease your growing anxiety.

Your gaze shifted to the plate in front of you, untouched and ominously inviting. The stack of meat in the center of the table loomed like a dark specter, its presence a constant reminder of the unease gnawing at your mind. You felt a pressure to partake, to show your acceptance of their world, but every fiber of your being screamed against it.

"Come now," Lilia's playful voice broke through the tension, "you should try it at least once. After all, it's not every day you get to dine with such esteemed company." He winked, the gesture meant to be comforting, but it only made you more wary.

You glanced around the table, noting the expectant gazes directed your way. Floyd’s sharp grin was still fixed on you, his eyes gleaming with mischief, while Ruggie gnawed contentedly on his bone, seemingly oblivious to the tension. Rook, watched you with a keen interest, his fork poised elegantly in his hand.

Leona’s gaze was the most unsettling, though. His amber eyes were half-lidded, seemingly bored, yet there was an intensity in them that made you feel like prey. His fingers drummed lazily on the table, and you couldn’t help but notice the slight curl of his lips, as if he was waiting for you to make a move.

Your gaze drifted across the table, stomach churning with a mix of disgust and dread. The dim light flickered, casting eerie shadows that seemed to dance across their faces—no, across their true forms. You blinked, the image wavering as if your mind was trying to shield you from something it wasn’t ready to comprehend.

Floyd’s laughter echoed, a sound that grated against your nerves. For a split second, you saw something else—an elongated, sinuous form, slick with scales, teeth sharper than any blade, rows upon rows of them, stretching endlessly down a gaping maw that promised nothing but pain. You shuddered, the image vanishing as quickly as it appeared, leaving you staring at the harmless, smiling face of the boy who once called you Shrimpy. Jade is no better. You can see the muscles bulging as his back turns, with sharp rows of fins scattered along his spine. If you were behind him right now, you’re certain he would cut you in half.

Your eyes flicked to Ruggie, who was gnawing on the bone of his meal with unabashed relish. But in the periphery of your vision, his form distorted—muscles rippling beneath fur that was too thick, claws that scraped against the table, and a maw that was too wide, too hungry, filled with jagged fangs meant for tearing, ripping, devouring. He glanced up, catching your gaze, and you quickly looked away, the image of the beast-man fading back into the all-too-familiar figure of a mischievous boy. Leona on the other hand, sit still. The image of a lion assessing it's prey. You dare not look at his eyes burning holes through your skull—you feel it.

Idia, who sits apart from the others, his presence a dark shadow at the table. There’s something about him that feels different, even among these monsters. His connection to the underworld is undeniable, a guardian of the boundary between life and death. The flickering blue flames of his hair and the way his eyes pierce through the darkness suggest something far older and more terrifying than any of the others—a being who has seen what lies beyond the veil, and who has perhaps brought a piece of it back with him.

Rook, you cannot even begin to comprehend how a human—like yourself, is able to blend in with them.

But the worst was Malleus. The prince of the fae was calm, serene even, but there was something wrong—horribly wrong. His eyes glowed too brightly, their green hue pulsating with an otherworldly light. And then, for just a moment, you saw what lay beneath that regal facade—a towering figure, wings that stretched endlessly, blotting out the sky, horns that twisted and curled like a crown of dark thorns. His smile was too sharp, too knowing, as if he could see right through you, into the very depths of your soul.

You closed your eyes, refusing to look at anyone anymore.

You tried to swallow your saliva, but your throat was dry, your mouth parched. The air was thick with the scent of blood, the tang of iron clinging to your tongue. They were all looking at you now, waiting, expecting you to take a bite, to join them in this feast.

Lilia’s voice broke the silence, light and playful as ever. “Come now, dear. Don’t be shy. You wouldn’t want to insult your hosts, would you?”

The pressure was unbearable, the weight of their gazes pressing down on you, suffocating you. Your hand trembled as you reached for the fork, the silver glinting in the low light. You knew, deep down, that whatever you saw—whatever you thought you saw—a no mere trick of the light.

They were not like you. They were never like you.

"I," you hope your voice does not shake, "I am full." You nodded, convincing them. You let out a nervous laugh, quickly standing up as you find the place too suffocating. Chair scraping the floor. "I'm fine! Really, I—ah, I need to go back, I have to catch some sleep and Grim is alone."

Floyd is quick to be by your side. His smile, wide and filled with sharp teeth, is unsettling. "Eh, Shrimpy, do you not like the food?" He asks, worry in his voice. You know it's fake: he's mocking you.

"I am good," you say with a strained smile. Please let me go, please, please—

"I insist," Malleus interjects, his voice smooth but commanding. "This is a feast meant for sharing. It would be rude to leave before sampling a morsel."

As if on cue, the others start to close in. Rook leans in closer, his eyes glinting with an unsettling mix of curiosity and amusement. "The flavors are truly exquisite, you know. Not something one should miss out on."

Leona’s gaze is heavy and piercing, his voice low and rumbling. "I’ve seen your kind turn down more robust fare than this. Surely you can handle a small bite."

Your attempts to excuse yourself only seem to stoke their interest further. The way they move, their unnervingly smooth motions, reminds you of predators circling their prey.

You might just be one tonight.

Floyd’s grin widens as he leans in closer, his breath hot against your neck. "Come on, Shrimpy. Just a taste. I promise it won’t hurt."

The pressure is mounting. They are pushing you to stay, to partake in their feast, and the atmosphere thickens with their silent insistence. Malleus’s eyes bore into you with a knowing gaze, his hand extending with a glass of the viscous red liquid. "Just a sip, if you please."

Every attempt to excuse yourself only seems to make their eyes narrow further, their smiles widen just a little more. The eerie calm of the feast surrounds you.

It is when you see the meat properly that you made up your mind to escape. It is in someone's plate, you do not know who.

It's in the shape of a finger. A charred fingernail dipped in red.

Floyd let out a yelp as you finally push him off of you, your steps quickening as you trace back where you came from: The path to Ramshackle dorm.

You heard Jade reprimand Floyd, the latter angry when you pushed him: How dare you Shrimpy was all you heard before you were out of their sight and you're running back, panting, to your safe space, Ramshackle.

Only to pause as Crowley stands in the steps of your door. His mask drowning the glint of yellow from holes that was supposed to be his eyes.

What... what the fuck.

Crowley approached you slowly, as if he's reaching out to a wounded prey, this is the first time you've ever seen him serious. You take a step back, should you run in the other direction? Where will you escape, Heartslabyul? Will they take you in there?

The headmaster let out a sigh, "My students here at Night Raven should perhaps know kindness from their teacher," he declared dramatically. Then he gave you pouch, full of madol. Thaumarks.

This is a bribe. Crowley is bribing you.

"Our little secret, alright?"

You blinked. What...?

"A little compensation for your troubles, for I am truly kind."

He then disappear, leaving you stunned.

At exactly 3:33 AM, a realization hit you. You are in the company of creatures far more dangerous than you ever imagined, their monstrous forms hidden just beneath the surface. One wrong step, one mistake, it can all come down. Crumbling to pieces.

It is inside when your knees give out, you slide through the door of the Ramshackle, too weak to stand anymore.

This is the truth: you are in the company of creatures mimicking humans, their monstrous forms hidden just beneath the normal exterior. But what terrifies you most is not the thought of what they are—but the thought that, perhaps, they see you as something less than human too.

The truth of what they were—what they really were—lurked just out of reach, like a shadow at the corner of your vision, waiting to pounce the moment you let your guard down.

But you knew better. Something had changed.

And as you sit there, the only protection you have are rotting woods that make up your dorm. You are just within the circle of monstrous beings in their friendly human skins. You are a magic-less, pathetic alien.

For in a world filled with monsters hiding in plain sight, the only question that remained was this:

What would happen when they decided they were tired of pretending?

Perhaps you will find out soon.

[thrawns-backrest]

A guide to chiss fashion

Alright, it’s finally done. I’ve managed to compile my headcanons in a format I’m more or less happy with so say hello to the chiss fashion guide. As I’ve said before, this is a homage to my love for fashion history and fashion illustration books so it’s written in the same(ish) kind of style, with made-up history and trivia behind it.

Mind you this isn’t about what your regular civilians wear – I can’t even begin to imagine what the spectrum of current fashion looks like for a species spread over multiple planets, that’s too much of a tall order.

Instead I’ll talk about what I imagine as ‘standard traditional wear’. A kind of traditional ensemble for formal occasions which is also the accepted dress code for the upper ruling classes and administration. The books give us many indications of how hung up the chiss are on rank so I imagine their fashion reflects that accordingly, with dress codes and etiquette and whatnot.

So without further ado, let’s start with structure.

The typical traditional ensemble consists of: underwear (plus any additional thermal underlayers), an underrobe, outerwrap robe, jacket (optional, mostly decorative) and top robe or coat (not pictured) for more severe weather and outdoor activities.

First we have the underwear layer (1) with a wraparound robe which can be long or short depending on the season, breeches and any other additional thermal layers underneath.

Next comes the underrobe (2) with a high buttoned collar and fitted sleeves. A slit starts at around chest level and ends in the usual overlap pattern at the ankles. This hem is often embroidered and is meant to be visible under the outerwrap robe.

This robe is also what I imagine is used as lounge wear at home (sometimes accompanied by a lounge robe) or as an outer layer in warmer climates and casual settings, though it’s usually decorated with accessories to make up for how plain it is. Some underrobes, especially padded styles for colder weather, have a waist string to pull excess material in in preparation for the layers to come.

Underrobes for low ranking administration are traditionally red, symbolizing specific qualities, but more on color symbolism later.

Then we have the outerwrap robe (3) with its flared bottom and sleeves which are also typically decorated. The outermost edge of the hem is important here because that’s where the trim that shows family allegiance goes.

These robes are closed with a pair of strings (usually at waist level but may be higher or lower depending on current trends) and the kind of knot used varies depending on social standing and occupation, again, a reflection of how classist the chiss are in my mind. For lower class administration, in case the knot is obscured by a decorative item (like a jacket or scarf), the item is required to have strings of its own where the knot can be duplicated.

The next part of the outfit is the jacket (4) which also varies in style depending on the wearer’s rank. A popular style for low ranking administrators is a waist or thigh level boxy cut with rectangular sleeves that don’t cover the embroidered hems of the robe under it.

Jackets can have individual trims and even small lapels. Structured shoulders and wide lapels are inappropriate as they’re reserved for upper level Aristocra.

Despite their popularity, these jackets aren’t a practical item since their cut provides little insulation and they prevent the use of garments like top robes and coats. Because of this they are either meant to be taken off or worn with cloak-like outer layers outdoors.

Fashion, especially that of the high class, is rarely all practical so I think it’s neat to include elements that are less functional and more so trendy, decorative or appropriate.

This goes in the opposite direction as well and I imagine there being plenty of modern modifications like hidden zippers for easier donning and a variety of false hems, cuffs and collars to minimize layering, making the outfits more functional.

As long as the overall silhouette and main elements are retained, the outfit is considered appropriate though more formal events are usually attended in proper full traditional wear.

Next we have accessories.

The most common ways to accessorize in traditional ensembles are scarves, jewelry, fans, and a variety of trims. Scarves are normally worn between layers and can be used to cover up the open hole at the neck in colder settings. The long sleeves make bracelets impractical but earrings and necklaces are hugely popular. Handheld fans are also a stylish way to elevate the outfit and different kinds of trims like feather and fur are used in less formal settings.

With all that in mind a complete outfit ends up looking something like (5).

Moving on to Syndics:

(traditional silhouette and some images of syndics to show the range of variety available to them)

With Syndics we start to see the appearance of structured shoulders (a strictly upper class element) and more extravagant lapels, particularly in jackets. Still no structured collars however as these are reserved for Patriarchs. Jackets, in contrast to those worn by lower ranking administrators, are longer and made of soft, flowing fabrics like silk, with the goal being to show off expensive materials and dyes (hence rich colors and light silky textures).

Proper etiquette regarding underrobes and outerwrap robes remains the same with one exception being the waist knot: higher ranking syndics aren’t required to replicate the knot if it’s covered by an overgarment or accessory (a syndic’s status is obvious from other elements of their outfit).

In general Syndics are the echelon with the most freedom when it comes to their fashion. With the exception of some traditional elements, there’s more room for variation in accessories, cuts and combinations: Low ranking Administrators need to follow a stricter dress code while Patriarchs are limited by the need to project a certain image so you see the most variety in the fashion of Syndics, the only exception being extremely formal events and ceremonies where the traditional silhouette is a must.

(Syndic Zistalmu with a more personalized interpretation of the traditional structured shoulders.)

And finally, there’s Patriarchs.

Patriarchs, in my mind, have the strictest and most elaborate dress code. Their outfits retain the most traditional elements so they’re like a walking museum piece in, sometimes literally because many of the pieces they wear are hereditary and come from famous artisans.

With Patriarchs we see floor-length jackets, very wide lapels, often with opulent linings like patterned velvet, structured collars (attached to the jacket separately), decorative skirts, silk undergarments and elaborate headwear. In addition, their outerwrap robes fasten with two twin knots rather than one.

Most if not all of these elements are strictly reserved for Patriarchs so they’re instantly recognizable.

The jackets are both long-sleeved and sleeveless depending on how lavish the robe underneath is and the wearer’s desire to show it off.

The separately attached collars are distinct and were originally meant to demonstrate proper posture, fitting best when the wearer was standing or sitting upright. Their rigidity and restrictiveness has decreased over time but they still serve to highlight the wearer’s stance.

The collars are the only element I think I’m willing to allow for Patriels as well, albeit I imagine them a bit more understated. I’m still in two minds about the rest.

For Patriarchs, the top of the white underwear robe is also visible above the underrobe collar – normally underwear garments are supposed to be concealed but these robes were given tall necklines to prevent chafing to the neck from the structured collars worn on top. In order to do that they were made from fine silk which eventually became a status symbol, both because of the expensive material and the fact that they were used in combination with structured collars and nowadays the high collar of the robe is visible at the neck.

The overskirt (pictured above and fastened with strings) is the most traditional element of the ensemble. It’s become obscure in other ranks and is distinctive as a result. The pleating is meant to demonstrate an abundance of fabric, usually heavy patterned or embroidered velvets, and I imagine these pieces to be especially heavy. Its only purpose is for layering and decoration.

Somewhat counterintuitively, Patriarch robes have less lavish lower hems (absent the usual flared shape and no trailing fabrics) to allow for ease of movement and compensate for the extra weight added by the rest of a Partiarch’s accessories. And when I say these outfits are heavy, I mean heavy.

Ceremonial robes in particular are notoriously a nightmare to wear and require practice and a good bit of stamina.

(ceremonial robes)

In terms of curiosities, the Stybla are an interesting case both because their Patriarch is allowed to wear ruling family regalia despite not being one of the nine and because they preserve some older elements in their garments from the time they were the only ruling family. Like the gold pin with their family crest, attached to the lapel. The curled hair style and ‘sun’ style headpiece are also elements that go in and out of Patriarch fashion but the Stybla stick to them because that’s the style that was prevalent in their heyday.

All of this is for the purpose of projecting the image of an innocuous quaint old family that still clings to its ‘faded’ glory.

Now for headdresses. There’s three main styles of headdress, labelled ‘moon, ‘planet’ and ‘sun’ accordingly. The main circular elements are meant to display family crests and can have various additional accessories attached to them like chains and ornaments.

I imagine there used to be more styles, at one point as many as the ruling families, but in time as fashions shifted they boiled down to the three main ones. These are usually worn with the traditional long hairstyles that all patriarchs conform to and are attached using a system of clips and pins to the topknot at the back.

The hairstyle itself is known as the ‘waterfall’ style, inspired by a classical style of sculpture.

Pictured below is a ceremonial style headpiece which are only worn at the most formal traditional ceremonies.

In general, these headdresses are somewhat unwieldly and unstable if the wearer moves too suddenly. This is again intentional as similarly to the collars restricting posture, it’s meant to restrict movement to ‘slow’ and ‘deliberate’.

And finally we have color symbolism

This is something I imagine as very important for no other reason than it gives me another fun element to play around with so let’s get into it.

In general, a chiss outfit is mainly made up of cool colors and a few warmer highlights though that can sometimes be flipped depending on the wearer’s preference or current trends. Overall there’s a preference for cooler colors and those close to the chiss’ natural coloration (skin and eyes) which also has biological reasoning but more on that later.

Most importantly, colors have culturally established symbolic associations, meaning the wearer can choose qualities they want to emphasize through their choice of color. This is often done through statement pieces to make the choice stand out, such as: eye catching clothing items or accessories, wear frequency, color predomination, etc. Often times the colors don’t reflect the wearer’s true qualities but rather the image they’re trying to project.

Because of the complexity of this system, most Aristocra rely on tailors and stylists to construct their outfits (and by extension public image) for them.

There’s also the so called ‘military colors’ (black and white) which are reserved for the army and navy and are only used as highlights in non-military contexts or by off-duty members of the military:

(General Ba'kif depicted in military colors with Stybla teal, decorative fan and robe trimming)

Colors are divided into ‘cardinal colors’ with long established traditional meaning and secondary ones whose meaning is fluid and depends on current trends. The cardinal color symbols are as follows:

Blue – order, duty, perseverance Red – passion, diligence, honor Purple – firmness, reliability Magenta – innovation, farsightedness, creativity, individuality, self-assurance Green – steadfastness, calm, security Orange – boldness, confrontation, certainty in battle Yellow – vitality, energy, enthusiasm Black – stability White – prestige, perfection, glory

(In chiss culture, light blue is a separate color from dark blue. The blue referred to here is what is commonly referred to as dark blue.)

Sometimes colors can be divorced from traditional meanings like when they’re used to denote family allegiance or as secondary colors meant to just compliment a palette. The color symbolism system is also all but irrelevant for the general public where trends and personal preferences take priority.

It still carries a lot of weight in the upper classes, however. For example, low ranking administrators are expected to wear red underrobes to symbolize their dedication and diligence.

An example of how colors can be used to make a political statement is Patriarch Thurfian, who upon being promoted to his post adopted a color palette of blue, purple and green to indicate a stable, orderly and traditional rule as opposed to Thooraki’s more maverick politics and preference for warm reds, yellows and magentas.

(Patriarch Thurfian in characteristic blue palette with 'moon' style headdress and purple collar. The jacket is sleeveless, showing off the decoration of the outerwrap robe sleeves.)

Overall, there are many ways to use color to indicate meaning. Warm vibrant colors are in general a bold choice so they’re seen as more of a statement, like for example a bright yellow scarf.

Syndic Thrass favored a bright magenta jacket with wide short-cut sleeves to emphasize his charisma. Zistalmu is an example of a more fashion-forward choice with a predominantly maroon color palette, a secondary color with fluctuating meaning. Colors can also underline subtle family and political allegiances, like Ba’kif wearing teal (a color traditionally associated with the Stybla) as a highlight color off duty.

Lastly, biology also plays a part in color preference, albeit a minor one. (Disclaimer, I’m not a biologist so take this section with a grain of salt.)

Unlike humans, chiss are tetrachromats, meaning they have four types of light-sensitive cone cells in their eyes. In addition to the cones most sensitive to short (blue), medium (green) and long (red) wavelengths, the ones found in humans, they also have ones that respond to the infrared spectrum, giving them their infrared vision.

They also, unlike humans, have a higher number of blue sensitive cones and a very low number of red sensitive ones. This is because even before Csilla’s shift to a cooler climate, the flora and fauna of their world had predominantly blue pigmentation, the same pigment that gives them their skin color, which is the main evolutionary reason for their sensitivity to blue.

This imbalance is somewhat made up for by their infrared receptors, as infrared is next to red on the spectrum, but the low number of red sensitive cones means they’re not as sensitive to shades of orange and yellow.

Despite this, they still use these colors in their wardrobe (albeit less frequently and with less variety) and the rarity itself has contributed to the specialness of their meaning. Red in particular has proved itself an enduring staple because of its presence in the color palette of natural chiss pigmentation.

The rarity of these colors could also explain why they’re assigned traditionally less desirable virtues in the color symbolism system.

(secretary Ronan (Lyron) as I imagine him in my fic, with a red administrator underrobe, embroidered outerwrap robe, and yellow scarf as statement piece accessory.)

I’ve also toyed with the idea that the bioluminescent properties of their eyes interfere with the natural perception of colors (much like a red filter) which has led to an adaptation where the brain filters out the excess light in the red spectrum, making them even less sensitive to different shades of red and its adjacent colors. It’s an adaptation similar to that which allows most species to filter out constant monotonous background noise to aid hearing.

But that’s another thing I’m in two minds about as it complicates things further and I’m not too sure of the biological mechanics of it.

[hx4x4enthusiast]

Optimus realising he is a dad (PART 2)

HAHA your god has heard your prayers my followers. I finally wrote part two. *I am running on energy and spite excuse the god complex*

Part 1

“Oh, man I missed the bots so much. I can’t wait to go dune dashing with Bulky and Jacky again.”

“I agree, I love my family but I missed Bee, playing games with my cousins isn’t the same as with him.”

“Yeah I can’t wait to go on a long ride with Arcee.”

Despite exhaustion tugging on the kids, the prospect of seeing the bots again filled all of them with excitement. They collectively agreed to wait at Jack’s house for their guardians to pick them up or a Ground bridge to open. The roar of a powerful engine captured the attention of the children. Which promptly turned into confusion as well as curiosity, when they spotted a very familiar blue and red truck instead of their respective guardians vehicle modes.

Grabbing their bags and locking the door behind them the group walked over to the truck parked on the curb. Jack reached the Prime first and opened the door for Miko to crawl into first, afterwards he helped Raf before climbing into the drivers cab.

“Uh hello, Optimus uhm where are the others?”

“Did something happen to them?”

“Greetings young ones. I can assure you Raphael everyone is well, the lull in Decepticon activity, allowed for an increase of free time, which was as far as I witnessed well used. To answer your question Jack the other are at base, receiving a standard medical examination Ratchet insist upon.”

“Yeah no disrespect OP but why are you picking us up.”

“A valid question Miko, while all of you were on vacation a discovery was made. We… I didn’t plan would…could happen.”

Silence encased the small space of the cab as the truck started moving and pulling out of Jasper, never have the children witnessed Optimus so unsure. Even without really knowing the depth of the position of Prime. Optimus was always a pillar of strength knowledge and confidence, witnessing him being so unsure was concerning.

“As you know due to the war the birthing place of all Cybertronians the Well of All Sparks has stopped working. One of the consequences was a stop in the creation of new sparks, the human equivalent to a child. When a New Spark is created it outer protective layer is still soft and easily damaged, so they have to rely on a protector to help them. These protectors are called Foster additionally they makes sure that all of the Sparklings basic needs are met. When the outer shell has hardened the new spark is referred to as a Youngling and enters a mentoring program for their assigned task. Once they gained the basics and graduated the Youngling program, they are recognized as full Cybertronians.”

“Why are you telling us this, Optimus?”

“Yeah I mean didn’t really wanna have a lesson in school free time.” “MIKO.”

Jack snapped at her, but still he was just as curious as Raf about the answer the Prime would give. While Optimus wasn’t necessary a quiet wallflower, he also wasn’t the most vocal bot.

“Your question is reasonable Raf, to explain what happened in your absence and not shock you I deemed it reasonable to explain Cybertronians relationships as they differ in aspects to human concepts. So allow me to continue, through the entire prospect, you would refer to as “growing up”, no emotional relationships are formed. You are one in many as you start life, opening your spark to someone is in every sense a deeply personal and vulnerable experience on Cybertron. Hence such bonds are sacred and them shattering will negatively impact all parties of the bond. One of the strongest bonds known is the Carrier or Sire bond. To ensure the survival of our species every Cybertronians has a set of coding typically referred to as the Sire/Carrier Protocol. Though it’s activation differs for every bot, the programming makes us protective of our own it typically happens when we form attachments when they are young before they are recognized as Cybertronians. It is a bond the same as the ones you form with your parents at birth. To answer your question Raf, in the absence of all of you my body displayed most unusual behaviors. A scan from Ratchet revealed that nothing was wrong with my frame physically. After another analysis it was revealed that my Sire Protocol was running and my frame acted upon the missing of my Sparklings.”

“OMG DOES THAT MEAN THAT YOU HAVE KIDS, WHY HAVE WE NEVER MET, OMG THEY GOTTA BE SO CUTE-“

“MIKO-Jesus keep it down would you I appreciate not losing my hearing yet.”

“Wait guys, Optimus said that he didn’t know he was running this protocol so he didn’t knew he had children. And if his body acted because his Children were missing. And we were all gone. Then…then we are…”

Optimus came to a stop, opening his door allowing the children to exit his cab. Though none of them moved, realization now also displaying on Jacks and Mikos face. Optimus carefully transformed back into his bipedal form positioning the children in his servos. Carefully he sat down his back against the wall of the small cave he once found patrolling. Slowly the kids, one by one looked up at him. Countless battles a millennia of war and still never was the prime this nervous and unsure as in this moment.

“So does that mean I get to call you Dad?” “Seriously Miko?” “What, I get an alien space Jesus as a dad that is cool as hell.” “Omg why am I friends with you.” “Because you love me, Jackie Boy.” “Shut up Miko.”

All of his fear and stress left his frame as he saw the children bickering with each other like always. A fond huff escaped the prime as his intake stretched into a small smiled, his faceplate shifting into something soft, something loving. For the first time in a long time he was at Pease, his Sparklings, with him, safe and happy. Slowly as to not jostle them he raised his servo to his Chest right by his spark. The movement interrupted the little argument between Jack and Miko, both focusing back on Optimus. This time Raf stepped forward holding onto the Primes thumb for support before speaking.

“Optimus we kinda already saw you as a father figure.” “Yeah you always help us when we need us and y’ know have really good advice.” “Thank you I am truly grateful to have already fulfilled such a role for you.”

With fondness in his optics observed he his two youngest, but as his gaze met with the oldest of the three, Jack looked away. Noticing the avoidance of his gaze Optimus send a commlink to Ratchet with his location, a second later a Ground Bridge opened up, turning to the other two.

“Raf and Miko this Ground Bridge will bring you to base Bumblebee and Bulkhead are already waiting for your return. We will join you later”

Before Miko could start to argue Raf took her hand and shaking his head. Optimus carefully lowered his servo back onto the ground, allowing Raf and Miko to hop down. Turning around to meet Jacks gaze he gave them a nod, sharing a look between them a silent conversation happened. It always fascinated Optimus how human managed to communicate without speech, ERP fields or commlinks. The silent conversation ended with Miko and Raf turning around and disappearing into the ground bridge, which promptly disappeared afterwards. Leaving the cave empty and silent except for the Prime and young human. Optimus lifted his servo back up to his chest allowing the Jack to not have to make direct eye contact with him. The silence continued neither of them making conversation.

“I…I never had a dad. I mean I do he is somewhere probably, obviously otherwise I wouldn’t exist. Mom said he was still there in the beginning but then one day he just left. I don’t really remember for me it’s always been just Mom and me. But then I met Arcee and you and the others and there where so many people there. And I am not alone anymore but everything changed so fast and what if this isn’t real and everything will be gone.” “Change is never easy, but change is also a chance. It forces open doors and shows us possibilities we couldn’t see before. Sometimes that means that we are met with harsh pain and suffering. But it can also push us, it makes us grow and without it we cannot go forward. Sometimes it is fast and happened in the blink of an eye and sometimes it is slow and happens in the span of millennia. Go this way in your own time Jackson, the door is open but it is your step to take.” “Thanks Optimus.” “You are welcome, Jack. Would you like to stay here a moment longer or do you wish to return back to base.” “I…I think I want to stay here a bit longer with you if that’s alright? “I do not mind.”

 Relaxing against the Primes chassis, the two beings of different species stayed like this until the sun bid farewell and the younger one fell asleep. Protected by the millennia old titan with the war worn spark which found peace and love in three small humans.

Masterlist

[carnatus89]

Shen Qingqiu triple trouble!

So, System Possession AU of @artsarasp is going through, stuff let's say. Angsty stuff. So of course my mind was like.

Let's make shen triplets!

The situation is, Shen Jiu has his fatal Qi deviation, Shen Yuan dies by choking on food and all is normal. But, some error occurs, and both Shen Jiu’s and Shen Yuan’s souls are in danger of disintegrating from the Qi deviation. The System notices this and tries to fix it, forcing the soul to generate a body to occupy from basically thin air. But there’s a problem, since there’s two souls that are now generating a body, meanwhile the original body is still functional, though has been metaphorically dragged through the mud. Thus, both Shen Jiu and Shen Yuan materialize with new bodies while the System is absorbed into the spare body.

So now we have three Shen Qingqius. And the System is Not Happy.

Neither is Shen Jiu to be honest.

Shen Yuan somehow convinces both the System and Shen Jiu that they should pretend to just be brothers, make some bullshit about trapped consciousness to fool the peak lords, while he wacks his brain to try to avoid death or punishment from the enraged System. Which can still give both points and punishments. The problem is that since he got the short end of the stick in the body lottery, he has to be very careful of exerting the body’s limits, so he can’t get agitated. And giving punishments is very agitating. Shen Yuan is basically trying to make the System care. If Wall-E can love, so can the System, wouldn’t it be better for the story if he becomes an active member? It would also be better to leave the story to develop itself organically, think about all the character development! So the protagonist can have a more round support cast! If he read something like that, he wouldn’t have criticized so much the papapa scenes since he could just focus on that! What do you think System-bro?

Meanwhile Shen Jiu is very conflicted, since these, what, fakers? Clones? Some type of demons? Are stealing his face and seem to have some ulterior motive, but both seem eager to ‘help him’ somehow. Granted, the blue eyed freak is creepy as fuck, a fake cherfulness that all his instincts scream to get away from, but he’s mostly… nice. The definition of the word, at least. The other fake is snarky, doesn’t really back down from a verbal dispute, and, while infuriating, it’s more real. Safer, in a way, more honest. Besides, the blue eyed one is useful when trying to find synonyms while writing or finding the name of a song he couldn’t remember well. They can stay, for now.

System is actually scared. They saved the scum villain character, but made a bigger problem while also becoming… vulnerable. How could they make sure the story functions if they have a weak and frail body? They are forced to play along, become a more direct support to the characters to make sure they stay in line. But [User02] seems to have other ideas, and while they must punish him, they really can’t without suffering themselfs. The original scum villain for the most part follows the script, but he also seems perturbed by their presence, which is fine. All is fine, they should be able to fix it.

Somehow.

The three of them are mostly the same in appearance. The major difference that the peaklords catch on is the mark on the forehead (I don’t remember what it is called). Shen Jiu has a lotus flower painted, Shen Yuan has a dot while the System has an empty circle, resembling a zero. Both Shen Jiu and the System have their clothes correctly, while Shen Yuan doesn’t really know how any of his layers of clothes work, so he fastened the belt around everyone, even the outer robe. Finally, the System has their hair tight to their head, Shen Jiu has it a little loose to let it flow but staying neat and clean. Shen Yuan just, tries his best. Finally, the System’s face is kinda cartoonish, they make faces that shouldn't be possible, stretching his smile wide and making their eyes a little too big. Both Shens don’t mention it much, they just say they’re special.

I don’t know what came to me to do this shit, but now’s here, deal with it.

Spanish rambling when this idea just came barreling through my brain.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Humphrey Bogart (Casablanca, Key Largo, Sabrina)—John Huston speaking at Bogart's funeral: "Himself, he never took his work too seriously. He regarded the somewhat gaudy figure of Bogart, the star, with an amused cynicism; Bogart, the actor, he held in deep respect … In each of the fountains at Versailles there is a pike which keeps all the carp active; otherwise they would grow over-fat and die. Bogie took rare delight in performing a similar duty in the fountains of Hollywood. Yet his victims seldom bore him any malice, and when they did, not for long. His shafts were fashioned only to stick into the outer layer of complacency, and not to penetrate through to the regions of the spirit where real injuries are done … He is quite irreplaceable. There will never be another like him."

Buster Keaton (The General, The Navigator, Sherlock Jr.)—For me Buster’s hotness comes not just from his physical beauty but in the constant surprise and contradictions of the man, he’s simultaneously delicate/rough, feminine/masculine, confident/vulnerable, 5foot5 pretty face with an unexpectedly deep voice, at first glance you think oh he’s a cute little thing and then he takes his top off and it’s Superman abs underneath. He was intensely shy in social situations but had no hesitation in jumping off the top of a building. He famously never smiled on screen* but he exudes warmth and joy and laughter. He created some of the most beautiful, intelligent movies ever made but refused to acknowledge his own genius and talent as an artist, instead maintaining that all he wanted to do was make people laugh. If he was here in reality competing in this poll he would give it 100% but he would not be at all bothered if he didn’t win. And that’s why he’s the hottest vintage man. A vote for Buster is a vote for all that is good and decent in the world 💕 (*he did smile on camera occasionally despite his own assertions to the contrary 😄)

This is round 3 of the bracket. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage man.

[enormous amounts of additional propaganda submitted under the cut]

Humphrey Bogart propaganda:

Bogart on why he became an actor: "I was born to be indolent and this was the softest of rackets."

Bogart about his wife Methot [who later divorced him]: "I like a jealous wife ... I wouldn't give you two cents for a dame without a temper."

Bogart, on why he was one of the only cast members filming African Queen to avoid catching dysentery: "All I ate was baked beans, canned asparagus and Scotch Whiskey. Whenever a fly bit me, it dropped dead."

Bogart's advice to a recently-nominated friend on how to write an acceptance speech for an oscar: "Just say you did it all yourself and don't thank anyone."

"the way he looks at Lauren Bacall……"

Buster Keaton propaganda:

"Just look at his freaking face...."

This entire Tumblr page was submitted

This post

This video

"And for those who have never heard it, here’s his lovely voice in action: link"

Submitted: Link to Buster Keaton car stunts

Submitted: BK fancam

Submitted: quotes about BK video compilation

"Ripped body, gorgeous unique face, beautiful personality too"

[agbpaints]

How to Paint: Glowing Heat Sink Effects

I already went over this briefly in text in the notes of the Awesome but I figured I should probably double this up and give it its own tutorial. Glowing effects are something that's extremely commonplace in a wargame like 40k but less seen in Battletech painting, despite being a great visual indicator of the effects of the game's heat mechanic. While it does take a little bit of work and some extra paints, adding these to your energy boats and pilot cooking clan mechs can be a great way to add a bit of visual flair to your forces.

Paints I Used

This is what I had on deck for this mini- substitute for your preferred colors, brands, and availability as you like

Army Painter Matt White (titanium white/pure white)

Citadel Khorne Red (dark red)

Citadel Mephiston Red (medium red)

Citadel Evil Sunz Scarlet (bright red)

Citadel Troll Slayer Orange (bright orange)

Citadel Yriel Yellow (bright yellow)

Citadel Lahmian Medium (thinning medium)

Method

Before you begin working on the heat sinks you want to complete the rest of the area around the place you want to do the glow effect. Light is an active environmental effect on a surface so you'll want to complete most of the base layers, highlights, shading, and other environmental effects before we work on the glow. Today our subject is a Manticore Heavy Tank that I used a modified pink-grey version of my weathered drab armor recipe to paint.

Once we've identified the sinks we want to paint and finished the rest of the model around them, our first step is going to be to paint the sink area white. This will increase the saturation on future layers and make the heat sink appear brighter, as well as giving us a consistent color to work up from. Try to stay within the vent area itself and avoid paining the outer frame- we want that to retain the color of the model. Once the white is dry, paint over all of it with our dark red color. Use one or two thin coats to do this.

Once the dark red is dry, go and get your medium red color. Make sure not to overthin this as we want to work this onto a pretty particular part of the model. Using the side of a small or medium sized brush, carefully paint just the ridges of the vent fins, leaving the dark red color in between. Leave this to dry briefly and then we can work on the interior of the vents.

Get your bright orange paint and thin it pretty significantly- more than you would for a normal color. Then, take a very thin brush, load it with some paint, and carefully dab/drag it in between the vent fins. Capillary action should focus this thinned paint into feeding between the medium red fins and make the impression that the interior of the heat sink is glowing. Make sure to leave some of the dark red color at the tops and bottoms of the fins when doing this.

Once the medium red and orange are dry, repeat the same process with your bright red and yellow, but make sure to only apply the paint this time where you want the glow brightest. This might be a particular side of the heat sink but in this case it will be the middle for me, to follow the curve of the turret.

Finally, we will 'extend' the glow of the sink to the area around it slightly. You could do this by applying a quick and soft drybrush before you start using lighter colors on the sink itself, but I prefer to use a glaze for this as it produces smoother results. Once the entire sink is dry, take your darkest color (quick physics lesson: reflected light will always be less intense than the source) and some thinning medium. Mix the two together at a 1:1 ratio and then add some to a medium brush with a fine tip before wiping off the excess on your pallet. The brush should be just damp and produce a thin and regular line of color when dragged across your fingernail for the best results. Once you're happy, sketch the color onto the area around the glowing heat sink with little motions. You should be building up an even, translucent layer of color over top of your base paint job, making it look like the heat and light of the sink is radiating out into the area around it.

And now are heat sinks are done! I've painted these sinks with fairly high contrast hot tones to pop on the dull purple model but you can easily change the colors around to suit your needs. If you want darker, more desaturated glow, start with a dark brown instead of a dark red and have your brightest highlight colors be medium red and bright orange. If you want to go hotter, consider trading the red/orange/yellow pallet for blues and whites. More exotic forms of glow could be rendered with greens or purples. Get weird and have some fun with it!

[takenbypeter]

Chocolate Fixes Everything

Willy Wonka x reader

Words: 1179

Sick fic for Willy Wonka, made this cause I’m sick again and I’ve become sick so often these past few months 🙃

Accepting requests for Willy only right now send me any requests plz I’m on a Wonka high rn

You couldn’t believe it. Your throat was itchy, your nose was sore. You could barely get past fifteen minutes without a horrendous cough flying out from the back of your throat. Your nose was stuffed and if it wasn’t stuffed, it was runny, which is why you kept a box of tissues close by. It wasn’t the fact you were sick that you couldnt believe, it was the fact that you were sick only a mere weeks ago and here you were, ill again. Typically this didn’t happen to you but recently it seemed like your immune system was against you, (maybe it was because of all the chocolate you had eaten recently but who knows).

While many of your friends had got the message of your sickness it seems like Willy wasn’t one of them.

“You wouldn’t believe the idea that just popped into my head!” Wonka shouted as he practically tossed your door open, your eyes shot wide as you suddenly became fully alert at the abrupt activity.

Willy on the other hand walked right past your bed which was positioned on the opposite side of the door, with his mind clearly focused on whatever his new idea was.

“Noodle and I were discussing and she had just reminded me of—“ his words were cut off and his upbeat pacing came to a halt when he finally realized you were still in bed.

His expressions seemed to relay curious, then sadness as his facial lines deepened. Without missing a beat he pulled up the wooden chair nearby. “What happened? You look horrible.”

A knowing smile tugged at your lips while you pulled your blanket further to your chin, “gee thanks, that’s just what everyone wants to hear when they’re sick.”

“You’re sick!? No that can’t be, I remember you being sick only two weeks ago.”

You nod acknowledging the fact while his face shifts into surprised? Or maybe excitement…? Stunned? It seemed like all of the above.

“Well you’re in luck,” he exclaimed scooting himself back towards the desk across the room, setting up his small briefcase factory on the table, “because I have something that’ll make you feel right as rain,” he stops tinkering with his case for a brief moment to shoot you a mischevious look, “chocolate rain.”

You rolled your eyes while he turned right around whipping a concoction together.

“Willy, I love your enthusiasm but chocolate can’t just make everything feel better.”

“Says who? Who says?”

“Medical doctors that’s who!”

“Oh doctors schmoctors,” he waves the concern off.

“Chocolate does fix everything. And this isn’t just regular old chocolate.”

Attention grabbed, you watch peculiarly as he pushes buttons and pours things in different areas of his case.

“Last time you got sick you felt awful for practically a week and a half, and I started making this since then,” his briefcase makes whirring noises as it gets to work mixing the ingredients. “Now let me ask you, what do you typically take when you have a sore throat?”

“A spoonful of honey with lemon?” You ask, unsure if that was the answer he was looking for, I mean many people do a variety of things once sick, but you took a shot in the dark anyway.

“Absolutely. But that feeling only lasts for a short time. But with this candy I designed, it lasts far, far longer.”

The machine stops and out pops a single candy, shaped simple and evenly square, as green as a lime. And with that candy in hand he returns back to you across the room.

“This is a Choc-well, because as soon as you eat it you’ll feel well,” you gave him an odd look, “the name hasn’t been hashed out yet.”

He motions for you to open your hand and he drops the small piece in your palm, to which you look at suspiciously. “It’s chocolate?”

“Yes. The outer layer is a milk chocolate, while the inside is a honey like substance from the Beezle-midge. And then inside that, is a tiniest drop of twang from a lime.”

“Beezle-midge?”

“It’s a small type of insect that usually travels in groups, except when separated and given the right incentive it secretes honey.”

You winced grossed out by the fact, “ew.”

“It’s good, trust me. Now try it.”

With one final motivating look from the boy you took the chocolate and popped it in your mouth.

“If you want it to really work suck on the chocolate, don’t chew,” he instructed just as you were about to take the first bite. But you did as told enjoying the chocolate. Little by little the chocolate layer disappeared into your mouth as the honey started to make its way to the front and Willy watched on as you ate the delicacy.

After a few moments of honey came the tiniest twang of flavor just as he said and just like that the candy was gone.

“So, how does it feel?” He asks and for a moment you’re not sure what he’s asking for.

“How does your throat feel?”

You oh-ed before closing your mouth in thought. The taste was on its way out but your throat felt much better, it no longer hurt from soreness and you didn’t feel any itchiness no or scratchiness.

“It feels…normal! Like it doesn’t even hurt. That’s amazing! How does that happen?”

“The honey from the Beezle-midge as it’s going down puts a small coat along your throat which lasts practically a whole day.”

“That’s splendid Willy, truly astounding!” You praise sitting up in bed. True you still had your other symptoms but at least you didn’t have to worry about your throat or coughing for now. Willy displayed a bashful smile at the compliments that he took to heart.

“Why didn’t you give this to me last time?” You asked curious as to why he just let you suffer, surely it couldn’t be just cause he forgot.

“Well actually…” he tilts his head back and forth before continuing, “you being sick last time is kind of the inspiration for it.”

This was not a new thing, Willy used many different people and experiences as inspiration, but he suddenly felt so shyly in telling you about yourself being his inspiration. Why? Was it because he didn’t know how you were going to react? He knew you would react well of course, you always did when it came to his creations.

“You made this…” you pointed to air essentially now that the chocolate was gone, “because of me?”

He nodded modestly, “last time you got sick, you missed out on a lot, and we missed you a lot in the factory.”

You grinned a toothy grin, “aww that’s sweet, and this chocolate is so cool!”

At your exclaim he felt relief, “good, I’m glad it’s working.”

That made you pause, “glad it’s working? What does that mean? You haven’t tested it before?” You asked worried.

“That’s not what I meant, geez. You do that one time,” he mumbled as he went back to his small briefcase factory.

[overdressedcarp]

Honestly, I love how the plotlines with Tingyun and Wonweek in 2.7 retroactively help explain why the consecration of the Harmony affected Aventurine the way it did in 2.1.

"The consecration has weird side effects as a result of the power of the Harmony" was honestly a fine explanation in and of itself, but it's cool to get a bit more detail about why Aventurine had those encounters with his "past" and "future" selves. The memoria-induced fracturing/dissociation that Sunday describes when talking about himself and Fugue is extremely similar to what we see with Aventurine in 2.1, both in the tangible effects and the factors that make it possible.

Both Wonweek and the convocation of Tingyuns are identified as the result of a special try-not-to-laugh candy that elicits uncontrollable laughter from those who consume it. (Penaconian consumables infused with specific emotions are something the story has leaned into since our excursion with Sparkle-as-Sampo in 2.0, so it doesn't surprise me at all that a product like this would exist.)

Notably, the candy doesn't have the fracturing side effect on everyone: it works as expected for March and the Trailblazer, and presumably most of the other Dreamchasers who participate in the challenge. Sunday identifies two specific factors that caused the atypical effects for him and Fugue: vulnerable/sensitive mental state, and a fragile sense of self.

Tingyun/Fugue fractured into dozens of memory fragments -- including a younger self embodying her childhood innocence and early memories on the Xianzhou, in much the same vein as Kakavasha for Aventurine.

Sunday, meanwhile, describes Wonweek as "another possibility of me": one that embodies traits he dislikes about himself, similar to the manifestation of Aventurine's "future." Wonweek and Future Aventurine are both externalizations of negative self-talk, giving Sunday and Aventurine a sounding board to express (and push back against) their own internalized self-loathing.

It's also interesting to me that Sunday identifies tuning as the solution for such fractures, adding credence to the idea that the Harmony's consecration (which itself appears to be a form of tuning), could disrupt a fragile psyche in much the same way Sunday can use his abilities to bring someone's mind back into alignment.

To be fair, I don't necessarily think Sunday anticipated this particular side effect of the consecration on Aventurine's mind. The events of Double Indemnity highlight the extent to which Sunday misjudged him by Aventurine's own design, falling for the facade that Aventurine fed him.

Aventurine is resilient... but he is also brittle, as evidenced by Acheron's voice line about him:

This lack of a strong inner self is something that Aventurine tries desperately to distract others from seeing, through the shallow and showy outer layers he presents to the world. But Sunday describes tuning as something that actively prevents people from being able to hide their inner self (very fitting for the Harmony, an Aeon that fundamentally blurs the boundaries between the Self and the Other).

To me, this adds another layer of significance to the presence of Kakavasha and Future Aventurine: they're there because Aventurine can't hide from them while under the Harmony's influence. He's so used to lying to himself about his true intentions that his childhood innocence and his nihilism have to physically manifest in front of him in order to be heard.

Tl;dr Aventurine's experiences under the effect of the Harmony in 2.1 make even more sense in hindsight, and I love the retroactive layers that 2.7 gives to his story arc.

[novlr]

How to write loneliness?

Loneliness is a universally shared emotion that shapes the psyche of your characters and the world they inhabit. It’s a silent force that can drive and change your characters, adding layers of complexity and pathos to their development. Here are some quick tips to write about characters experiencing loneliness.

Behaviour

May avoid social interactions.

Often choose to isolate themselves.

A lack of enthusiasm for activities they once enjoyed.

May appear distracted, distant, or aloof.

Neglect their personal appearance or living space.

Overuse technology or social media as a substitute for real-life interaction.

Engage in one-sided conversations with pets or inanimate objects.

Have a rigid routine that keeps them isolated.

Live vicariously through fictional characters in books and on TV.

Resist attempts by others to engage with them socially.

Interactions

Conversations may be brief, superficial, and lacking in depth.

Avoid eye contact and physically withdraw in social settings.

Miss social cues or respond inappropriately during interactions.

Exhibit envy or resentment towards those with strong social connections.

Overly formal or distant, even with friends.

React negatively to offers of companionship or help.

Express a cynical or negative view of relationships and friendships.

Display relief when social interactions are over.

Deflect personal questions and redirect the conversation.

Have a small social circle but lack a true confidant or intimate relationships.

Body language

Slumped shoulders or lowered head to avoid drawing attention.

Minimal or restrained gestures during conversations.

A fixed or blank expression, showing their detachment.

Fiddle with objects or their clothing as a self-soothing behaviour.

Cross their arms or legs defensively when approached.

Sit or stand at the edges of a group, physically distancing themselves.

Might have a nervous tick or habit when faced with social interaction.

Exhibit slow or lethargic movements, suggesting a lack of energy or interest.

Have a personal bubble they are reluctant to let others penetrate.

Usually the last to arrive and the first to leave social gatherings.

Attitude

Express a philosophical or poetic view on the nature of solitude.

Have an air of resignation or acceptance of their loneliness.

Harbour a secret hope of finding connection, but feel it is unattainable.

Quick to criticise or judge others as a defence mechanism.

Have a deep internal world that is rich and complex, contrasting with their outer displays of loneliness.

Believe that they are fundamentally different or disconnected from others.

Have a strong sense of self-reliance, seeing it as a necessity.

Demonstrate a fear of rejection or abandonment that prevents them from reaching out.

Heightened sensitivity to the pain of others, stemming from their own loneliness.

Experience moments of clarity or creativity when they are alone.

Positive story outcomes

Find strength and independence in solitude.

Experience personal growth and self-discovery.

Form a meaningful connection that alleviates their loneliness.

Gain a deeper understanding and empathy for the loneliness of others.

Use their time alone to develop a skill or pursue a passion.

Find that solitude allows for reflection and the development of a clear perspective.

Inspire others to appreciate their own company and find peace in solitude.

Become a catalyst for change, helping others to overcome their loneliness.

Create a work of art or literature that expresses their feelings and connects with others.

Their experiences of loneliness make their relationships more meaningful when they do occur.

Negative story outcomes

Become increasingly detached and withdrawn from the world.

Develop mental health issues such as depression or anxiety.

Make poor decisions due to a lack of guidance and support.

Grow to resent others, leading to conflicts and misunderstandings.

Spiral into destructive behaviours as a way to cope.

Experience a sense of hopelessness about ever finding connection.

Become distrustful of others, hindering potential relationships.

Lose touch with social norms and struggle to reintegrate into society.

Overlook or sabotage potential opportunities for companionship.

Leave a lasting impression of sadness and regret in the narrative.

Helpful vocabulary

Forlorn

Sequestered

Estranged

Abandoned

Reclusive

Isolated

Adrift

Detached

Solitary

Alienated

Despondent

Forsaken

Lonesome

Marooned

Melancholic

Ostracised

Remote

Unaccompanied

Vacant

Withdrawn

Yearning

Bereft

Disconnected

Outcast