#been meaning to draw this out for literal months but I don’t have the energy to rn

[unnamed-proxy]

Y’know what no I’m sharing this one with tumblr too, actually

[awhoreintheory]

Circus Boy

Directly inspired by @erinwantstowrite 's art!!! post

Request from awesome amazing cool Anon

Over the years, circuses have lost their spark.

Dick would know— he’d literally grown up in one. Back then, the circus was a symphony of effort and artistry. Weeks, sometimes months, were spent perfecting routines. Performances were designed to dazzle, to inspire awe, no matter the country or culture of the audience. The comedy sketches weren’t just filler— they were genuinely funny, capable of drawing laughter even from the most reluctant parent dragged along by an excited child. Every act had a rhythm, a purpose, and above all, passion. The performers took pride in their craft, and the audience responded in kind, feeding off the energy, cheering and clapping until their hands were raw and their throats sore. 

Now? Now they were dull. Predictable routines recycled ad nauseam. Costumes that looked like they were bought in bulk from a clearance rack. Tents and stages slapped together with the barest effort to resemble grandeur. The magic, the joy—the soul of it all—had been replaced with a singular, glaring goal: profit. No one cared if the audience laughed, gasped, or even paid attention, so long as they paid their entrance fees.

But recently, whispers of something different had started making waves in Gotham: a circus gaining a reputation for being... well, different.

Dick’s curiosity was piqued. He hadn’t planned to go, at first. But the memories of his youth, of what the circus used to mean, stirred within him. Before he knew it, he’d wrangled (read: blackmailed) together as much of the family as he could to go see it. Which, wasn’t a whole lot considering quite a few were out of state currently, but it was enough to make him smile.

“Why must I come along? I do not see the point,” Damian groused, arms folded tightly across his chest as the group approached the circus grounds. Despite his protests, he made no move to make a stealthy exit.

“You’re coming because it’ll be good for you,” Dick said, ruffling Damian’s hair just to annoy him. Damian promptly swatted his hand away, glaring daggers at his adoptive brother.

“You don’t even know if it’ll be good,” Tim chimed in, hands shoved into his jacket pockets. “What if this thing is as boring as all the other ones you’ve complained about?”

“Then we’ll all get funnel cake and call it a night,” Stephanie said brightly, making it clear where her true excitement lay. “I’m in it for the food, anyway.”

Dick pouted. “You didn’t have to say the quiet part out loud!” 

“Don’t underestimate funnel cake,” Duke added with a smirk. “It might be the only thing saving this trip if the show’s a flop.”

Dick rolled his eyes, but his grin didn’t waver. “You’re all so cynical. Just... trust me, okay? I have a feeling about this one.”

Sure, a lot of the decorations seemed cheap thus far, but Dick can’t blame them. They’re clearly low budget, with only two shows a week, versus the seven to ten a week Dick was used to. The difference was the genuine passion and excitement in the eyes of the performers. And they were just doing pre-show stunts on the street to rouse excitement! 

Tim hummed thoughtfully. “This place has been gaining rapid popularity,” he said, the subtle edge in his tone making it clear he was already analyzing every detail. Dick saw his fingers twitch as if to take a picture. 

Dick glanced over at him but didn’t comment. He recognized that tone— Tim was in detective mode, quietly piecing together threads no one else could see yet. He did, however, take the opportunity at his siblings' distraction to subtly herd them in the direction of the tents, eager to get a good front-row seat. Damian noticed, but he didn’t do much more than roll his eyes.

Steph, however, rolled her eyes dramatically. At Tim, not Dick. “Can you just enjoy one thing without looking for a criminal conspiracy, Tim?”

Tim matched her with a roll of his own eyes, the two slipping into a bickering match that’d put an old married couple to shame if they weren’t so aggressively gay. Meanwhile, Dick let his attention wander to the stage, studying the equipment with the practiced eye of someone who’d lived this life.

Suspended high above was the trapeze rig, its bars wrapped in worn leather, the steel cables taut and secured to thick iron frames. The safety net below, while a little faded, looked sturdy enough to do its job. Not brand-new, but serviceable.

To one side, a highwire stretched across a dizzying height, its slim cable shimmering faintly under the tent lights. The rigging showed some signs of age— slightly dulled bolts and scuffed counterweights—but nothing that made Dick worry. It would hold, even if the daredevil walking it would need nerves of steel.

A teeterboard sat center stage on the ground, its spring mechanism ready to launch performers into flips and vaults. Nearby, a stack of brightly painted crates and barrels hinted at comedic skits. Clowns would probably tumble over them with exaggerated flair, while a sturdy seesaw-like prop suggested slapstick gags involving plenty of unintentional (and intentional) falls.

The whole setup had a charming scrappiness to it. The equipment could use a little TLC, sure, but Dick had no doubt it would hold up under pressure. He could tell the performers had put their trust in it, and that meant something.

For a moment, Dick felt a flicker of nostalgia. The way the crew moved, the crisp efficiency with which they handled the gear— it reminded him of home, of the way his parents had always treated the stage with reverence, as though it were sacred ground.

“Do you see how high that wire is?” Duke muttered, his voice tinged with a mix of awe and apprehension as he followed Dick’s gaze.

“I see it,” Dick replied softly, his heart tightening. He couldn’t help but wonder who had the guts to walk that cable, let alone pull off any stunts on it. He’d definitely have to stick around and chat them up, maybe have a little friendly competition. 

“Awe, man,” Duke sighed, visibly disappointed. “Guess we weren’t excited enough.”

Turns out “early” wasn’t early enough because the seating area was packed. The whole first three rows were aggressively claimed, forcing the group to settle for seats in the middle of the fourth row.

Steph and Duke promptly excused themselves to grab popcorn—or, more accurately, for Steph to scout for funnel cake. Dick had to respect the consistency.

Damian glanced at Dick, then at Tim with a withering look. “Drake, cease your ramblings. They sour my mood.”

Tim blinked, clearly taken aback. “Wait, just me? Steph was talking way more!”

Steph, who had been halfway out of earshot, whirled around with mock offense. “Excuse me? I wasn’t the one turning this into an episode of ‘True Crime: Circus Edition.’” 

“Yeah, because you’re too busy planning how to steal funnel cake from children,” Tim shot back, crossing his arms. Damian’s eyebrow twitched. Dick wondered why peace was but a mere illusion. 

“Oh, please,” Steph quipped. “You’d be the kid I steal it from, Drake.”

Before Tim could come up with a retort, and Damian became a convicted felon, the lights dimmed, cutting their bickering short. A hush fell over the crowd as the familiar low hum of a drumroll began to build.

The ringmaster strode into the center of the stage, clad in a dazzling coat of crimson and gold that shimmered under the spotlight. If you looked any closer than that, you’d see how tacky and cheap it was. His booming voice carried effortlessly across the tent.

“Ladies and gentlemen! Boys and girls! Welcome to a night of wonder, daring, and delight!” the ringmaster announced, his voice ringing through the tent as the steady drumroll built the tension. “Prepare yourselves for the extraordinary, the astonishing, the absolutely unbelievable! The show begins... now!”

The drumroll reached its peak, and with a dramatic flourish, the spotlight swept upward to reveal the first performer perched high above the stage. A man in a sparkling gold costume waved grandly to the crowd before swinging onto the trapeze. The audience clapped politely as he performed a few rudimentary tricks— basic flips and graceful swings that showcased control but lacked flair.

Two more performers joined him, each clad in similar glittering costumes. They moved with confidence, transitioning through formations and passing between trapezes, but the moves were predictable and lacked the edge Dick was hoping to see. Certainly, nothing that would make this rinky-dink circus as popular as it got so quickly. 

Tim leaned toward Dick, his tone flat. “You dragged us here for this?”

“Underwhelming,” Damian muttered, his expression neutral but his tone sharp.

Dick didn’t respond immediately, though he couldn’t disagree. The tricks were technically fine— safe, practiced, polished— but there was no spark, no passion. No magic. He resigned to going home disappointed and also to the inevitable flaming via siblings. 

But then, just as one of the performers finished an awkward landing on the platform, the ringmaster’s voice boomed again.

“And now, prepare yourselves for the prodigy of the skies, the one and only Amazing Arach-Kid!”

The spotlight shifted upward again, revealing a much smaller figure poised on a separate platform, high above the others. It was a boy— young and wiry, dressed in sleek crimson and black, his face obscured by a half-mask (not dissimilar to their domino masks, actually) that glimmered faintly in the light. For a moment, the crowd was silent, uncertain what to expect.

Without warning, the boy leaped.

The gasp from the audience was audible as the kid— Arach-Kid?— launched himself into a dramatic triple flip, his body twisting gracefully through the air before he caught the trapeze with flawless precision. The crowd erupted into applause, the energy in the tent shifting instantly.

He didn’t stop there. Swinging with a force that sent his trapeze soaring higher than any of the others had dared, he released at the peak of his arc and spun into a double somersault. Instead of catching the next trapeze, he landed neatly in the arms of one of the adult performers, who looked genuinely startled by the boy’s precision. He grinned, waving excitedly at the audience as they roared with applause. 

From there, the routine transformed. Arach-Kid became the centerpiece of the act, seamlessly incorporating daring flips, twists, and transitions between trapezes. He was passed between the adults with perfect timing, their previous mediocrity eclipsed by his sheer skill and energy.

“Whoa,” Duke murmured, leaning forward in his seat. “He’s... good.”

“Who is that kid?” Tim asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

“Better than the rest of them combined,” Damian said bluntly, though his tone carried the faintest hint of approval.

The boy ended his routine with a jaw-dropping quadruple somersault, catching the final trapeze one-handed and hanging upside down with effortless control. Gasps and cheers erupted from the audience, their applause thunderous as he let himself swing for a moment, letting the crowd bask in his daring. Then, with a fluid motion, he swung back, releasing the trapeze bar for one final flourish.

Dick leaned forward, his breath catching as the kid’s body twisted into the unmistakable maneuver— the signature move of the Flying Graysons.

The crowd roared as he executed the technique perfectly, his form flawless, his timing impeccable. He landed with a clean dismount, arms raised triumphantly, and offered the crowd a playful bow before darting off to the wings. Even with the stage empty, shouts and applause echoed for a long time after the boy left. 

For a moment, Dick couldn’t move. His stomach churned as memories of his parents on that same trapeze flooded his mind. No one else knew that move. No one could. His parents had created it, and Dick had learned it from them. It was their legacy— his legacy.

So how, in the name of all that made sense, did this random kid just pull it off perfectly?

The lights shifted again, smoothly transitioning to the next act: a somewhat clumsy but undeniably entertaining tightrope routine. One performer started with a wobbling walk, arms flailing for comedic effect. Another joined, balancing precariously with a broomstick for support. The final performer added a unicycle to the mix, pedaling shakily across the thin wire as the audience laughed and clapped in delight.

It was… objectively funny.

But Dick barely noticed. His good mood had evaporated, replaced by a heavy knot of unease in his chest. At this point, they must have a hive mind with how they immediately filed out of the tent without a single word exchanged. 

“That was—” Tim started, breaking the tense silence.

“Dick,” Steph interrupted, her voice low, “did he just—?”

“That was your move,” Tim finished firmly, his eyes locked on Dick’s.

“It’s not possible,” Duke added, glancing at the now-empty trapeze rig. “Right? It’s your family’s thing. There’s no way some random kid from Gotham knows it.”

“I am more concerned with how he knows it,” Damian said, his voice cutting. His eyes darted to Dick. “This is your domain, Richard. You must have answers.”

Dick didn’t respond right away. He couldn’t. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, his breathing shallow. In disbelief, he muttered, “I don’t.”

Steph frowned. “Okay, well... what do we do? Do we just ignore the fact that some kid pulled off your impossible secret family move?”

“No,” Dick said sharply, his voice colder than any of them expected. “We don’t ignore it. We find out who he is, how he learned it, and what the hell is going on.”

Tim’s brow furrowed. “Do you think someone’s trying to get your attention? Like, deliberately?”

Dick shook his head, though his face betrayed his uncertainty. “I don’t know. Maybe. I mean, it’s... it’s possible, but...” He exhaled through his nose, frustrated. “I need answers. This isn’t something you just pick up on YouTube.”

The group left the small but packed circus, their earlier excitement replaced by a shared tension. The cool night air did little to clear their heads as they walked in a tight huddle, glancing over their shoulders as if the boy would materialize out of the crowd.

“Something’s not right,” Tim said, breaking the silence.

“Obviously,” Damian muttered.

“I mean it,” Tim snapped. “Moves like that— you don’t just do them. It takes years to learn without a teacher.” He glanced at Dick. “You’re sure no one outside your family knew it? Like, absolutely sure?”

“Positive,” Dick said firmly. “The only people who knew it are gone. Except me.” His voice dropped as he added, “Or at least, they’re supposed to be.”

The group exchanged uneasy looks, about both the situation and Dick’s reaction to it. It takes quite a bit to rattle him, so to see him, well, rattled was weird. Beyond weird. It was downright wrong. 

“Either way,” Duke said cautiously, “we’re going to figure this out. Right?”

“Oh, we will,” Dick said, his voice grim. “We don’t leave things like this unanswered.”

As they disappeared into the Gotham night, paranoia settled over them like a second skin. Whatever was going on, it wasn’t going to stay a mystery for long. 

[ghostymarni]

Hi I had no caf today.

But uhh… OC lore pls?

no caf???? How??? 😂✨ do you prefer tea or perhaps you can run on juice?

I need it to function in the mornings. I either need that first brew or an ice cold energy drink to get the gears turning ♥️✨

I hope you mean how Aev started cause that’s what imma share haha!

Aeviririn is my main, self expressed, self insert. I wanted a way to express my presence on the holonet in a way I both saw myself, adding my hair + design style of expression, as well as overall expression of interests + communication. Her design has lots of symbolism in how I designed her.

with the loss of my late husband (it’s been 10 months already) I turned back to art knowing it’s the truest way of communication for me.

I know I started her as a self presence on “this is the artist” drawing myself with my designed mandalorian bucket. But it evolved to who she is now. I’m learning as I go, I’ve never had a public oc before in an active fandom. And it’s all new to me being so involved <3

I’ve learned + continue to learn, the difference between fun lingo usage + fandom RP, which I feel is a very thin line. But just balancing responses between me and using Aev confused myself sometimes because Aev is literally me hahaha. I don’t see myself starting an RP only account because my ADHD is too inconsistent.

my late husband + I called ourselves a mandalorian family, he was a long time boba fett fan even before I met him, and unknowingly we always initiated the keldabe kiss with our son and personal moments. He was into the bad batch before I was and he’d quote things to me not knowing their origin. Making TBB so much more personal. so the grief I felt, felt like I was exposing me to my true feelings and evolving aeviririn to who she is now, feels just as much healing as it is expression. Almost like I was recreating myself as I fell apart.

arm wraps - symbolize how I feel like I’m always fighting through life. Losing my partner I put the wraps on knowing i have no one to help protect me. To keep fighting forward.

long mohawk - it’s my actual hairstyle. I haven’t cut it in almost 8 years, and I shave the sides every other week.

left leg blaster - my late husband taught me how to shoot, helping me overcome my fear of weapons. I like the rifles/snipers not just in games but I lock in when I shoot them. As well as having a blaster for a sniper is essential for close range, but also I keep it as a reminder that my left handed partner always reminded me to be prepared for anything.

Aev is so much of everything I’ve grown to be, and who I strive to keep being. Her attitude is so much of my own as well as my inner confidence. Tomboy + femme, so much of my own desires and interests, and life experiences.

my obsession with the marshal commander actually started a long time ago. Denial cause I had a convo with my late husband talking about what clones I’d connect with before I was deeply immersed into clones as he was. Refusing the 501st because it felt basic hahahaha (he had a captain Rex tattoo) and I was like, I kinda like the red guys, it’s kinda cool.. referring to the coruscant guard. And he was like “oh they’re like the cops of the city” which made me cringe at the time because i wanted to find my reason for it on my own terms. Ironically after he passed I stumbled back onto fox and I hyper fixated on him. Which the fandom at the time was very minimal (from what I saw), about fox being mean grumpy and often disliked. But I couldn’t help it. I liked that hahaha thanks to @eobe for her forwarding me commander caf escalated post which sparked a whole cup of chaos that im so glad I jumped on. And connecting with @lonewolflupe finding out we had so much in common which sparked the chaos twins, initiating a whole new chapter of Aev and creativity <3

I truly appreciate everyone that’s drawn Aev, includes her, and supports my innuendo to myself. I can’t wait to see how she (and I) grow.

[ffc1cb]

new art blog

the short version:

1. i made a new art blog: @cbge;

2. @ffc1cb will stay up as an archive.

the long version:

hi everyone. this announcement is somewhat late, since the blog in question has been up for a few months now, and i’ve already started posting art on it. the reason it took me so long to “reveal” it is because i’ve been trying to figure out whether a new blog is something i actually want, or if it's just me throwing darts at a board, trying to make myself feel better somehow.

i don’t know when precisely it all started, but ever since sometime last year i’ve been going through a hard time, both emotionally and creatively. i’m not sure whether being depressed is what made art harder, or art becoming harder is what made me depressed (a bit of both, i think), but lately, drawing has been a struggle. 

i’ve found myself having less and less energy for art, and this lack of energy resulted in poorer quality of drawings, which resulted in me feeling like i’m getting worse at it, despite my efforts. i knew i could make good art, art that i’m proud of - i’ve done so countless times before, - but somehow it felt like i just couldn’t anymore, like my hands forgot how to. nothing looked right. 

i’ve been trying to experiment. i’ve learned some new things, tried this and that - it was enlightening, to say the least, and even though i kind of liked how it looked, it made me feel a sense of displacement. i was at odds with myself, my art, and how i felt about it, when previously i was always in sync. i was making art, yes, and it looked nice, but it felt like it wasn’t mine.

i suppose part of it was also the growing lack of engagement, and i don’t mean likes and reblogs - i never particularly cared about those. they are all just numbers to me; dry and impersonal. what i’m talking about is actual, human interactions: personal thoughts in tags, asks, replies, etc. a conversation. 

i don’t mean to sound “old” or anything, but i remember when talking to artists online was more commonplace. my wife tells me it’s because the internet culture has changed over the years, that people have become more reclusive, less willing to be open with their thoughts, and she's probably right, but in my slump i find it hard to believe. somehow it feels like it’s my fault for being less “engaging”, for seeming unapproachable or perhaps intimidating. maybe it’s “just a skill issue”, maybe it’s because i have stopped churning out fanart for popular fandoms, maybe it’s because i refuse to torture myself emotionally by having an art account on twitter (i can’t fucking stand the place anymore; i still post nsfw art there, but only because it’s literally one of the only places on the internet that allows you to do so. i miss when you could post female presenting tits on tumblr).

i have always, ever since i started posting art on the internet back in 2012, done it for human connection. i wanted to talk to people, and have people talk to me. i wanted to inspire people with my art, and i wanted to bring them comfort. i wanted to elicit an emotional response, and have people tell me about it. it was one of the main reasons i drew in the first place; having lost that, i’ve been struggling to stay passionate about making art.

i miss being a small artist on the internet during the 2010s. i remember when i could make a post going, “hey everyone, how are you all doing today?” and it would not seem weird to people in the slightest. it is just me? does anyone else feel that way? am i too deep in my own head? the internet feels so unwelcoming nowadays, especially to artists. we are all just content machines; people scroll by our stuff, or maybe look at it for half a second and leave a like before scrolling away. i know it’s unfair to demand people’s attention, especially now when our lives are already so overwhelmed by everything - no one has the energy to pay closer attention; i myself am not immune to mindless scrolling. but it feels bad. i wish we were all sincere and enthusiastic again.

anyway (sorry for rambling. i hope i haven’t bored you to death), you might want to say, okay, but how is making a new art blog on a “dying” social platform going to help with any of that? the truth is, i don’t know. i just felt like i needed a change. 

i’ve been running this blog since 2016 (that’s almost 8 full years!). i feel incredibly attached to it, but at the same time, i feel it weighing me down. 

there are people who followed me years ago for one specific thing, still expecting me to post about said thing (i still find it mindboggling that some people follow artists for a specific fandom only, but that is a whole other matter for a whole other post that i will never write). a third, if not half, of my following are probably dead blogs. and with my current struggle with trying to regain the joy i once felt for making art, looking back at all the art i’ve done over the years makes me feel tired. i still love it all; it’s all very dear to me. i’m proud of it; looking at it makes me mourn my younger and more passionate self.

so i’ve decided to make a new blog, where i will let myself post whatever i want, in whatever stage of donness i feel like. maybe it will help me, somehow. maybe it won’t. but if you care about my art, if you want to keep following me on my artistic journey, i welcome you to join me there. similarly, feel free not to - no hard feelings.

thank you everyone for your support over the years; it matters a lot to me. i’m not planning to delete or private this blog; it will stay up, and i will still be reachable on here. i will still answer asks, if there will be any. i’m just not planning to post any art here anymore. this is it for my dear old friend ffc1cb.

i can be found in other places:

@cbge, as mentioned earlier,

@k0nstanta, an art blog dedicated solely to my and my wife's ocs,

@inquisimail, a dragon age ask blog that has become my dragon age sideblog in general,

and multiple other blogs, none of which are art related, but feel free to ask, if you’re curious.

thank you very much for reading all of this. i hope you have a wonderful day.

[softlysuga]

satan's sweetheart [ch. 1]

You’re a demon. One day, you’re summoned into a living room, and an exhausted woman quickly rambles about needing to get to work and being unable to find a sitter before flying out the door. Now, you stand in your summoning circle, a toddler staring wide eyed at you.

pairing: taehyung x female demon!reader genre: fluff, crack, smut (but in the other chapters) rating: pg-13 wc: 2.7k

warnings: mentions of the underworld, death (like the Reaper), pagan activities? i mean the woman literally summons a demon LOL

note: prompt is by @writing-prompt-s! i thought it was actually fcking hilarious and half the time i was writing i was like wtf is this LOL also thank you to @jtrbluv for beta reading! my d1 tumblr moot ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ ♡.°₊ˎˊ˗

-> let me know if you want me to make a taglist for this fic or any other fics :)

There’s a tugging sensation at your stomach, and your lips curl into a smile. 

A summoning. Finally. 

Relaxing, you let the sorcery of the summoning whisk you away from your dwelling and hear the familiar pop in your ears as you enter the human realm. Dust setting, you open your eyes, hoping to feast your eyes on your next meal. 

“Who dares to summon—” you boom in your demonic form, clouds of smoke entering the room and a glow of evil cloaking your figure. Of course, it’s all theatrics.  

But…

“I’m so sorry, I tried calling for a babysitter but no one was free,” a frazzled-looking woman interrupts, “and I know, you’re probably like, well, can’t you ask family—”

The woman scrambles to find her keys and belongings, slowly lugging her bag to a door. You stand a few feet away in the middle of a summoning star adorned with a few candles and eerie-looking symbols. There’s an offering of fruits and leftover Halloween candy, along with an edition of the Grand Grimoire. 

“—and I did! I asked Taehyung to come over, that brat, always shirking from his responsibilities, but he said he’s in the middle of a basketball game? Can you believe him? I had asked him to a month ago, and he still managed to forget! Ugh, younger brothers. Anyway, it’s not like I can ask my parents because they’re dead.” 

Surprised, you cut the theatrics and unwind into your natural form. “I mean, Old Reaper spares no one,” you chuckle, shooing away the clouds and lightning. “He’s kind of a nasty fellow, that one. Always so grumpy.”  

The woman freezes, one hand in the midst of putting on a shoe. She turns around, stunned. “You changed.” 

You frown. “Did you expect me to stay in that form forever? It’s actually quite energy-draining— I much prefer this one.” You look down at yourself, confirming that you’re in the correct form. “I mean, I can turn myself into a cat if you would like. Or an elephant, if you’re really feeling up for it. I would be quite loud, though.” 

You’re not quite sure what humans do or do not know. Usually, summonings are quick and short, usually ending with you feasting on the souls of the summoners or the immediate banishing. But this isn’t the usual summoning; there are no teenage kids screaming for their mothers, nor men wrapped in capes who think they’ve found their calling. 

A clatter draws your attention away from the woman and you find a toddler tucked away in a high chair. The child couldn’t have been more than two years old, teething on a strawberry with the remnants of its breakfast laid out in front of her. An oatmeal-covered spoon is on the ground next to the chair. 

Stepping out from the pentagram, you wave your hand and the spoon flies off the ground and lands on the high chair. The child gurgles in delight, grabbing the spoon and throwing it off yet again. 

“This child seems to lack intelligence,” you observe, spinning back to the woman. “Why would it throw the spoon back down? I thought you humans liked using them.” 

The woman unfreezes with a start and continues putting on her shoes. “W-well, you know how toddlers are, always doing something you don’t want them to.” She adjusts herself before putting a hand on the doorknob. “I’ll be back in a few hours, it will be a very quick grocery trip. I just need some…peace.” 

I raise an eyebrow. “You want me to look after your offspring?” 

“Just for a bit. I’ll be back in a jiffy, alright?” She opens the door and steps out. “There’s food in the fridge for her, diapers are in the drawer under her crib. Just keep her unharmed and alive.” 

And just like that, she’s gone and you’re left with a human baby with a distaste for spoons. You look at the child again in curiosity. Tight, chestnut curls are tied up in two pigtails and her chubby cheeks are stained with strawberry juice. You gently pull at a curl, watching it bounce back into place after you release. 

The child notices this and places your finger into her mouth, gently gnawing on it while cautiously measuring your response. 

“Silly child,” you reprimand gently, pulling your finger back. “That’s not food; if you eat my hand, you’ll get dysentery.”

You snap your fingers and conjure a little black binky for her to gnaw on instead. “Here.” You stuff the binky into the child’s mouth and after a bit of confusion, the toddler starts chewing on it contentedly. 

A smirk crosses your face. “How curious. I wonder what else I could do to you…” 

You sense the presence of another soul before you hear the jingling of keys. They’re inserted into the door, and it opens with a swing. 

“Addie? I’m here— sorry about the wait, the game ran a little long…”

You observe the new figure, a man, clumsily take off his shoes and shove them in the shoe rack. He stumbles towards the living room, dropping a bag off by the couch. 

“Addie?” 

“Are you looking for the child?” you murmur. The man freezes. 

“She’s in her jail,” you continue, floating down from your perch on the ceiling. “I suppose you would call it a crib. The child seemed to grow tired of our games, so I put her to sleep. Temporarily of course— I’m not the reaper.” 

Softly landing on the carpet, you stare at the man’s shocked features, seemingly frozen in time. You tilt your head in confusion. “Well, don’t be too worried. She’ll wake up whenever she feels the need to. I just…coerced her into a nap. It’s not like I can do much else.” 

You extend a hand. “You must be Taehyung. The tired woman mentioned you.” 

Taehyung glanced down at your hand and slowly reached for it. Shaking it, he gulps, “Wh-what? Who?” 

He points from your perch on the ceiling to you. “What?” 

“Oh, that,” you wave towards your previous spot. “I’m just more comfortable that way. It’s usually how I lounge in Erebus but I thought it would make you too uncomfortable to see me like that.”

“Erebus?” He whispers. “Is that like…the underworld?” 

You shrug. “Yes and no. It’s more like another dimension, really,” you say, inspecting his face. “You seem to be sweating. I forgot how temperamental humans are.” 

You chuckle. “It's a little hot in here for you, isn’t it? I tend to run a little warm and the heat might be radiating into the room.”

A bead of sweat drips off Taehyung’s temples and he swipes at it, unfreezing himself. “Oh, I-I guess? I mean, now that you mention it, it’s a little warm.” He shakily looks you up and down. “What are you even? A demon? Oh my God there’s a fucking demon in Adeline’s house…” 

“Ah, so Lily is the child,” you muse. “So Addie— or Adeline, I suppose— must be the mother.” Swooping past Taehyung, you ignore his noises of disbelief. Landing on the kitchen counter, you pour him a glass of water. “She’s in her jail, like I said.”

You beckon a chair to follow you, instructing it to sweep Taehyung into it. He’s pale as a sheet, scrambling onto the chair as he lands in front of you. You hand him the water. “Sip.” 

He obeys, gulping down the water. After he finishes, you take the glass back while he looks at you warily. 

“Why are you here?” he asks, clearly uncomfortable. “You’re not from this world, are you?” 

“No, I’m not. Adeline summoned me to become her babysitter around an hour ago, and she simply left me with her offspring,” you snort. “You humans always do the funniest things.” 

“Wait, what?” 

“I mean, hey, good for her for summoning a blank demon— class III nonetheless! Very baby-safe, I can assure you.” 

Taehyung’s brows furrow. “Addie…summoned you?” 

“That’s what I said, didn’t I?” You chuckle. “At first I was as confused as you are right now, but she quite literally said ‘care for my baby, demon! I will be back’ and left,” you air-quote with your hands. “Said something about being unable to find a babysitter, and I was curious enough about the little one to stay for a while.” 

“So you’re not…stuck here?” 

“Well, no,” you roll your eyes. “I can leave whenever I want. Just how you can leave and enter a door,” you gesture towards the hall, “I can leave and enter this dimension. The summoning just thrusts me here against my will. I can go back whenever I want.” 

“Oh.” 

There’s a bit of a silence as Taehyung collects his thoughts. You listen to the buzz of the refrigerator and the quiet ‘tick-tocks’ of the grandfather clock down the hall; you’re surprised how soothing the monotonous noises are. Maybe the humans are onto something. 

Glancing back at Taehyung, he seemed to relax a little. He fiddles with his hoodie string, gnawing at the end. “Wait so, you won’t hurt us? You said something about being baby-safe.” 

You chuckle. “Yes, I’m very baby-safe. I’m a blank, class III demon. Blank— as in I haven’t developed into a specialty yet— and class III— meaning I’m equipped with the bare minimum of demonic powers.” You shrug. “So yeah, I can do things like make you fly or summon existing objects, but not much else. I’m more of a spirit, really. At least for now.” 

“Huh.” 

Suddenly, you sense a shift in the air and you glance over to the baby monitor on the fridge. Taehyung follows your gaze and jumps up. “Oh, Lily’s awake!” 

He looks over at you, albeit a little warily, and slowly starts walking towards Lily’s room. “Don’t move,” he instructs, pointing a finger at you. “Or else.” 

You put your hands up. “Alright,” you giggle. “How scary!”

Ironic. 

Taehyung glares at you and disappears into the hall. He comes back a few minutes later carrying little Lily in his arm, one hand wiping the drool off of her face. Her eyes light up when she sees you. 

“Puff!” she squeals, reaching for you with two hands. Taehyung holds her back, confused. She’s squirming in his arms, trying to peel away. She whines in annoyance.

You smile. “Yes, child. Puff.” 

A wave of your hand conjures little soot sprites out of the air, the dust bunnies blinking in surprise. The jingle of their movements delight Lily, making her clap as they float down towards her. They scatter around her as she makes attempts to snatch them with her chubby hands. Taehyung keeps her just shy of doing so, though, and it frustrates her. 

“What are they?” he asks, concerned. “Are they your pets or something?”

“They’re soot sprites,” you say softly, waving your hand again and they disappear. Perhaps you should’ve warned Taehyung. “They’re quite harmless, really. Usually residing in abandoned country homes, they’re magical creatures made of soot. They don’t do much but work and exist.” 

Lily wails in dismay as the creatures disappear. You smile apologetically. “I was using them to entertain the child before you got here,” you explain, “which is how she’s so familiar with them. It got her a little dirty, but she seemed to like them enough.” 

“Huh. Cool, I guess.” 

You look over at Taehyung, a little surprised at his reaction. It seems like he’s opening up to some of your antics, which makes you smile a little. 

“Do you mind if I conjure them again?” you ask. “For…Lily.” 

You’re trying to get used to calling the child by her name. 

He nods and places the child on the couch, where you bring the little sprites back. Lily’s eyes widen and she instinctively reaches for them as they float around, surprised once again. 

You and Taehyung both watch her in a comfortable silence, but you can still hear Taehyung’s wheels turning. 

“You know, you can just ask,” you start. 

“Hm?” 

You shrug. “I dunno. It’s not like you see a demon every day, let alone have a demon babysit your niece.” 

He chuckles softly. “Yeah, I guess so. I’m just trying to process it a little, but I’m just glad you aren’t sent here to hurt us.” 

“It’s not like I could if I wanted to, anyway,” you add. “It’s kind of a development-slash-hierarchy thing. Kind of like your version of puberty? Long story.” 

Taehyung’s lips quirk up. “What do you mean?” 

Before you can answer, though, you hear a jingling of keys and the woman from before swings the door open, shuffling her bags in. She looks around, eyes landing on you and Taehyung. 

“Tae!” she exclaims while shutting the door. She turns back to face you two, walking towards the living room. “And…the demon…-ess? Demoness?” 

“Demon is fine,” you affirm. 

She smiles warily and turns her attention to Taehyung and slaps him on the shoulder. 

“Ow,” he winces, “what was that for?” 

“That,” she starts, swatting away the sprites and picking up her child, “is for neglecting your babysitting duties which ultimately led me to summon a demon.” 

She glances at you. “No offense.” 

“None taken.” 

“But you summoned her yourself!” he splutters in defense. “Freedom of choice and everything—” 

“Don’t even start,” she interrupts, glaring daggers. 

You whistle. “This woman is scarier than me, Taehyung. I would watch out if I were you.” You glance at Adeline. “No offense.” 

She winces. “None taken.” 

“Well, it looks like my services here aren’t needed anymore,” you clap your hands and the soot sprites disappear. Lily frowns. “Not that it was something I expected, but it was kind of fun.” 

Adeline turns to you and smiles softly. “Thank you for everything— I know it was a bit of an inconvenience, but I’m very glad that it turned out how it did. Please come back anytime you want.” 

You laugh. “I’m not sure if I’ll take you up on your offer— I have a lot of training to do back in Erebus— but thank you anyway. Your offspring, Lily, was quite enjoyable.” 

You wave to little Lily— who waves back— and you start walking towards the door for a more “natural” approach to leaving. 

“Wait, hold on.”

You turn around and Taehyung catches up to you. “Are you never coming back?” 

You shrug. “Unless there’s another summoning or if I have a personal reason to. Summonings are tricky, though, it’s a gamble on which demon you’ll get. It runs on an internal lottery system for all demons, so I wouldn’t bet on your chances.” 

He deflates. “Ah.” 

“Maybe you’ll see me, maybe you won’t.” You smile. “It was nice knowing you, though. I’ve learned more about humans today than I ever had at the academy.” 

Taehyung furrows his brows in confusion, but before he has a chance to say anything, you’ve snapped your fingers and disappeared. 

Like before, you let the winds whisk you back to Erebus and you enter with a pop, feet landing on the soft carpet of your room. Glancing at the window, you notice the blood moon starting to rise and your roommate stirs in her sleep. 

Interesting, you think, shaking your head as your horns grow back. You touch them to make sure they’ve come out properly and your wings also make an appearance, the dainty gossamer erupting from your back as you stretch. 

A sigh of relief leaves you as you settle into your own bed, thinking back at what happened. You’ll surely have to go to the Dean tomorrow to explain your absence, but it shouldn’t be something you’re punished for. These summonings are growing more common so quite a few students have been missing this week—  but it’s not something the administration is worried about…yet. 

You roll over to your side, remembering the look on the woman’s face. She was calm for a human— too calm maybe— when she summoned you. Grumbling in confusion, you think. Maybe they’re getting too comfortable with contacting the demonic dimension. 

But you fondly remember how Taehyung’s reaction was much more standard, and you chuckle recalling his sheer fright at the concept of Erebus.

He almost reminded you of a puppy. 

“How cute,” you murmur. 

Yawning, you make a mental note to go to the mortal realm more often. It could do you some good. 

Eyes heavy, you close them and everything goes black.  

[tonyboneysblog]

A Fleeting Memory

synopsis: you and keigo meet at a party and play hide and seek, plus almost kiss

note: hawks thoughts are put in italic!

Word count: 1.5k

“Hawks do you have any friends, at all?”

this was an out of the blue question and kinda offensive coming from a worker of the P.S.C.

“Why do you ask..?”

the worker sighed softly, “Well you see, my daughter is throwing this house party but apparently she ‘doesn’t have enough people’. So I was wondering if you wanted to spread your wings a little?”

keigo faltered for a minute, thinking it over.

“oh…I’d like that a lot.”

replied Keigo Takami, the boy with no friends.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

why was Keigo doing this?

he was never really interested in the party life so what’s the point of going to some random girls party just cause?

because he was terribly lonely that’s why.

“Alright hawks were here!”

the worker named “Akari” said

“Let’s hope you have fun yeah? I have to go back to the work place so don’t do anything stupid while I’m not here!”

shutting the car door then walking up to the door, his nerves on fire, then knocking.

before he could even get to the next knock, a good looking girl threw open the door.

“Aha! Takada your here!” the girl yelled.

the only thing going through hawks mind right about now is “who the hell is takada??”

the girl grabbed his hand a dragged him into a nice a warm living room.

“Everyone, this is Takada! my dads co-worker.”

oh so Takada is a fake name? could’ve been a little more creative.

the group excitedly starts cheering, very nice of them to do to a stranger….

“Okay so, Takada, let me introduce you to everyone.” The girl then starts pointing at everyone one at a time, “The brown haired one is Aoi, that’s Ayaka, this is Hiroto, keiko, akimitsu, and-“

holy mackerel who the hell is that…

“This is y/n, and I’m Habiki!”

careless whispers must be playing right about now because that is the most jaw dropping mouth watering- oh god their coming towards me.

“Hey there, come around her often?”

the girl named y/n joked.

What do I say? holy wow she’s so cute…what if she thinks a look stupid?? Do my wings look goo-

“Earth to Takada?” She laughed.

Takada? Oh wait that’s me.

“A-Ah y-yea I come here all the time!”

okay now what the hell was that keigo.

“How old are you? If you don’t mind me asking of course…” she spoke softly towards the end.

“15.” Keigo barked back immediately.

“That means I’m one year older than you!” She said cheerfully.

“So you’re 16?”

of course she’s 16 she literally just implied that.

“Yep! I’ll be 17 in (birth month), when’s your birthday?”

god I love her voice.

“It’s uh…December…”

“That means you’re a Capricorn! Ever been interested in astrology?” She asked.

“I…uhm..”

Before keigo could respond suddenly the girls name was called.

“Y/n! Come write these names!” The girl named…Aoi? yelled across the room.

“Eh? But why I’m talking to Takada!?”

“Because your hand writing is the prettiest!” The girl yelled angrily.

Everything about her is pretty, of course her hand writing would be too…and what the hell is astrology…?

“darn…I’ll be right back Takada!” She bounced off towards the kitchen to help with something, while hawks sat on the couch, patiently waiting for her to come back.

during this period multiple people came up to hawks speaking to him briefly, not as interesting as y/n though…

Habiki suddenly came out of nowhere shoving a hat filled with paper in hawks face…”Draw!” She barked.

Hawks took out a piece and then slowly unraveled it. It said…hider?

what the hell does that mean.

“Okay everyone has drawn from the hat of the wolves and sheep!” Habiki said.

what the hell does that have to do with hiding..?

“We…shall be playing… HIDE AND SEEK!!” Habiki said full of energy.

what’s the hell is a hide and seek?!

Then softly a hand tapped hawks shoulder… y/n did.

“You know how to play right? Just find a hiding place until someone finds you.” She said quietly as if not to embarrass him about the fact he didn’t know what hide and seek was.

your a damn angel I swear.

“Now our seekers are Aoi and Hiroto shall be seeking, So go and hide quickly!” Habiki said loud.

They suddenly start a timer and everyone separates to hide while hawks is left in shock.

wait how the hell am I supposed to hide with thews big wings?!

Hawks quickly leapt from the couch booking it towards the stairs.

Maybe I could hide under some bed covers? But that’d only work if they were messed up.

Hawks quickly peeked into a room and..the bed sheets were a mess!

“Bingo.”

Hawks dives into the covers like a kitten playing with a cat toys, throwing himself under only to met with..you.

“shit! You scared me Takada…” y/n said quietly.

shit…should I leave? No there’s no more time left to hide what do I d-

“No worries you can hide with me.” She smiled sheepishly.

god i wanna marry you.

“T-thanks…I would’ve been a cooked bird if you pushed me out.” Hawks said in a whisper level.

“We never got to continue talking..”

“y-yea?”

“Mhm…”

Awkward.

Suddenly there was loud running up the stairs, “FOUND YOU HABIKI!”

“…”

“…”

“I suppose habiki got caught…”

“And we’ll get caught if you keep speaking so loud, Takada.”

won’t lie that was kinda hot.

“m’sorry..”

“…”

at this point your staring into hawks soul, what are you thinking? hawks definitely doesn’t know.

“Can you feel anything that touches your wings? Kinda like an extra arm?”

random but okay.

“uhm…I don’t know..”

“Can I touch them?”

HOLY MARCELLO SHE WANTS TO TOUCH ME. not like that hawks. Chillax go with the flo-

“They look so soft..n’pretty..”

is it getting hot under these sheets or is it just me…

“y-yea I’m okay with that…”

“Really?” She lights up.

She slowly moves the caress the top joint of his wings.

“Fuck, that feels nice.”

“They’re so soft..” she stops, “thanks for letting me touch them..”

Wait that was it? Cmon touch a little more…!

“It felt good..kinda like when someone massages your temple?” Hawks says.

“Your name isn’t actually Takada is it?”

okay now what the holy hel, how in the world did she know-

“You’re too pretty to be just a Takada…”

She says softly.

oh thank the lord she’s just trying to flirt with me.

“N-nah that’s my real name! I think…”

He mumbles off into a sentence that can’t be heard.

“What was that?”

“I said that your….” He mumbles off again.

“One more time?”

“Isaidthatyourprettytoo….” He says far too quickly with a red face.

“I-I..well thank you…” she blushes brightly.

Her face is so red. I wanna kiss her. She so pretty, so nervous, so nice, please kiss me, please kiss me, please kiss me.

“please kiss me.”

KEIGO WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU SAY THAT ALOUD??

“O-oh gosh..your quite forward aren’t you??” you whisper yell.

“M’sorry! I-i didn’t mean to say that aloud!”

Hawks rambles trying to save himself.

“H-hey it’s okay! I mean I definitely wouldn’t mind b-but..!” She says quickly, and loud.

Hawks tries to hide his red face in his wing, unable to face the situation at hand.

“M’really sorry..”

“you don’t have to be sorry…” she softly touches the side of his face.

uh oh.

“I-I wouldn’t mind..”

Hawks faces you with a bright red face and slightly teary eyes from the embarrassment.

“would this be your first kiss, Takada?”

AHHHHHHHHHHHH-

“y-yes ma’am…” hawks says softly then turning his face back to his wing.

“Ma’am?” You say confused, “m’only a year older than you..”

you never know I might like older women, I mean I definitely like you.

“Takada?”

“Y-yes?” Hawks says.

“how bad do you want to kiss me out of ten?” You say quietly.

“so bad…” hawks says softly.

you slowly part your lips aiming towards his

fuck she’s so close, she smells so good, her breath smells..minty? oh god she’s gonna kiss me.

Hawks face gets redder and redder, parting his lips until-

“TAKADA I SEE YOUR WING!”

shit, did it bust out of the covers? Damn this guy for real ruined the whole moment.

“looks like you got caught, pretty bird” you says quietly, So, so close to the place hawks wanted you the most.

If hawks died right now- actually he feels like he just did. You so close calling him these names-

“TAKADA GET OUT OF THE BED WE FOUND YOU!” Aoi screamed.

Hawks jumps out of the covers, still hiding you.

“Fine, fine, you caught me…” he said jokingly

“You okay Takada? Your face is really red..” Aoi said with concern.

“Just being under the covers for so long…no need to worry.” Hawks said quickly.

Then after the game the two of you didn’t even speak of the cover situation, the hawks had to leave. Waving off everyone then getting into Akari’s car, his eyes lingering on you while they drives off.

“So, hawks, how did spreading your wings go?” Akira said.

wonderful, I thank you for me meeting my future wife. Next time I see that amazing beautiful angel I’ll give her a million kisses and then call her-

“SHIT!” hawks screamed.

“WHAT, WHAT HAPPENED?” Akira yelled.

Hawks pouted sadly.

“I forgot to ask for her number.”

At least keigo could live with the memory of your beauty.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

p2 when yall😉

[alaskan-wallflower]

Hiii, what's your favorite part about your The Wretched (?) au? Or whats something about it you are most looking forward to or excited about?

i literally love you rn oh my gosh

The Curtis brothers!!! I LOVE them, especially in this AU

We got fire bound gryphon Darry—I’m gonna ramble a moment but he’s like…really big—like the size of a house at least. Bigger, even. That’s because he’s half gryphon and needed up being that big (there afe other creatures that are that size—Dallas for example-Johnny in his true form, so it’s not too unusual—he built a cabin for himself when he got too big (when he was around sixteen was when he peaked) and ever since him and his dad had worked on the cabin. His first job is plowing areas (abandoned ones ofc) to make room for new buildings and structures that he helps build, so he kinda acts like a bulldozer ngl—but he also brings home cool things he finds for his cabin and his brothers. His second job is a glass blower-he makes statues and stuff. I was talking to @crow2222 and he mentioned that Darry made a tribute to his parents and I’m sticking with that-he makes furniture and even makes building skeletons sometimes. It’s kinda like pottery to him. He also makes gifts for his loved ones. He usually gets food from meat stands and stuff because they either haven’t been able to sell anything or it’s gone bad (I have a whole thing about gryphon anatomy I WILL ramble, but he’s immune to toxins like that is he’s fine-debating between making that a third job or just as a symbiotic way to get food while also helping out. He purrs when he’s happy tho-like house shaking purrs. That’s rare tho nowadays unless he’s with his brothers-he has fangs too tho! I did draw a pic of that (if you go to #gryphon!darry on here you’ll prolly find it lol)

Thennnnn electric bound hypogriff Soda! I originally had him as a pegasus but I decided to go with combining the whole “half bird mythical being” thing so we’re completing the trend—I figured I’d make him electric bound to complete the trend of “energy based bindings” (thermal for darry, electric for soda and light for pony) but ALSO so he can jumpstart cars sometimes—his electricity also comes with kinda being able to control weather? When he’s excited he sparks-when he’s mad you can obviously tell because again, he sparks. He stores electricity in his body but if it ends up being too much electricity he “overvolts” which basically means you don’t wanna touch him because you’ll get electrocuted due to the amount of electricity surging through his coat at that moment. He’s pretty much normal sized—a bit big because hypogriffs are kinda big but he’s not Darry’s sized or even close to that. He also semi controls weather-like he can clear storms but that either makes him pass out for days or sends him into overvolt.

Then light bound peryton Ponyboy! Perytons are half deer half bird so I decided to complete the trend lol-with Pony he ends up being pretty average sized-kinda big because he’s gonna end up a full grown peryton but again, he’s not anywhere near Darry’s size. For the half bird I wanna make him I’m thinking snowy owl? I dunno, I just have an image in my mind and all I can imagine is snowy owl. Anyway, he’s light bound ofc-his fur glows when he’s happy or upset or something and he can blind people if he wanted to but again that takes a LOT of energy and he just prefers not to unless it’s a genuine situation where he’s gonna end up dead otherwise. Perytons also cast the shadow of a man until they kill one, and I’ve talked about this a few times but on the train to Windrixville he finally sees his own shadow and that wrecks him for a good few months. If he’s not in the light (sunlight, moonlight, artificial light) for a while he’ll get deathly sick. Like he NEEDS some form of light, even if it’s burying a nightlight into his feathers and fur. His eyes also glow when he’s using his light bending abilities. His tears and blood do too—he can kinda store heat? But he acts more like a heating pad as opposed to like…a furnace. He can get warm but not like-hot. If that makes sense? His antlers and hooves are made up of prisms tho! So he’s kinda sought after for that…and when his antlers fully grow he has crystals dangling from them that he likes priding himself on. He also styles his hair so his little antler stubs are visible which scares Darry because it’s basically showcasing them to humans. He can be dangerous if he wants (by blinding people, he has razor sharp front talons, his antlers too-he has teeth that could snap bones. But he’s not dangerous. He does t want to be.

I love rambling guys 🙏

[herdivineopulence]

who am I? I’m just a girl 

I am a first generation, first daughter to a Dominican woman who immigrated to the u.s in the early 90s, and the first daughter to an African American man with unhealed trauma from Brooklyn. LOL sorry but its the truth! We’ll talk about that later BUT yes, first daughter. That’s me! A 26 year old who’s doing her best at figuring this life out. I’m a virgo sun, taurus moon, & libra rising, a Venusian princess if you will <3 Im from the Bronx, but have lived in PA for most of my life. I have a younger brother, a kitty and a yorkie shitzu or chihuahua (its hard to tell xD). I’m a Lover girl at my core, Love is all I Live for. I live and die for this shit! It keeps me going, it literally gives me life. I am currently single and been single for such a long time… well technically only 5 months since my last “relationship” (at the time I’m writing this) but I don’t count that bc I literally felt nothing. Even the sex was mid LMFAOO, but I was with him bc he was the main one there really trying so I settled.. he also wasn’t everything I expected him to be, but we will definitely talk about that later too, I’ve been through a lot of heartbreaks.. its amazing that I’m still here! But i will say, i am truly blessed with platonic Love. I have such an amazing support team behind me, living and non living LOL. I have great friends, a wonderful mother, and overall a great tribe so far. But its time to expand. I need like minded people now that im entering a new phase in my life.

I Love anime, food, everything Venusian! FASHION, JEWELRY, HAIR SKIN NAILS, ROMANCE, oh the ROMANCE! PURE OPULENCE. But I still find myself not exactly where I want to be. This blog is something that has been in the works for idk how long… I made a actual blog website two years ago and only made one post and never posted again. I even had someone email me saying how they were eager for me to continue posting .. and I failed them :,(  But one thing I learned is to put myself first and be gracious and gentle with myself. I am a manifesting generator and for those who don’t know what that means, you can either look it up or stay tuned I’ll definitely put you on and teach you somethings, but long story short, I am not meant to stick to one thing, or do things that no longer excite me. So not being consistent is not a flaw but just my nature and how I function. Only when I follow my design will the things that excite me draw out the consistent energy needed to keep whatever I’m working on going longterm. Stopping and starting is normal too!

But I do know I need to be more disciplined and I really want to blog. I Love writing its my passion that I’ve recently discovered is what I absolutely Love & have since I was a preteen. I always have energy for it. I also have lots to share. As a 12H native with multiple planets there, being open and “exposing” myself is kind of hard. All my social media platforms have barely any followers. Except for twitter lol ( X ) that’s where I spend most of my time, but now its one of my goals to expand my horizons and expand my reach.I have so much to share, and I really want to jog my journey as well. The good thing is that I’m still at the beginning so to speak. I am starting over, AGAIN. Trial n Error, figuring out what I want, what works for me, what truly brings me happiness. that’s part of the journey & clearly part of my experience.

So here I am my Loves I hope this reaches the people that are meant to come across this. My goal is to build a community filled with like minded people to share my knowledge to those who really could use the information to better their lives. To learn! One thing about me I Love to learn, and I know i'll always be a student. Hopefully you can learn a few things from me, use me as an example, a role model, and your healer of hearts. Boy oh boy do i know how to heal a heart! I have so many goals, join me on my journey to accomplishing them all using all the tools we have at our disposal ; astrology, human design, witchcraft, law of attraction, health and beauty! Are you ready? HOP IN BITCH WE'RE LEVELING UP!

TTYL, BESOS ;*

~ Aurora

[tanetime]

Wait what was that about Wyneer’s messed up mouth and eating what-

Also are you ok. I know it’s been like two months but I don’t check your blog often tbh and your tags mentioned hopital 🥺

Wyneer's face got reposessed by the Taking Your Wish Too Literally and Fulfilling it Ironically™ police (read: Maxwell, accidentally) but boy's gotta eat. It turns out when your face is made out of nightmare fuel that's a whole lot of real estate where a mouth can go!

Also, thank you for asking about my health! I really wish I had something positive to say about that - I was actually going to make a post about my absence but I was waiting for news first. I still don't have news, but I'm going to answer this ask now under a readmore so that I don't look dead.

While I'm going to omit a lot of information this post is kind of a downer.

I'm not going to get into specifics because it was pretty awful, but my health over the course of 2024 deteriorated pretty badly. I was busy with getting promoted at work and trying to manage my carpal tunnel getting much worse (both bc it got bad and bc I had an injection to treat it that somehow made the pain in my hand 10x worse), so I kind of just... didn't realise how sick I was getting?? Until about May/June where I kind of hit a wall where I was like "wow, this weird illness I am ignoring is becoming really hard to ignore!"

IRL was busy and stressful so... I put off going to the doctor for months. I have a history of developing intolerances to new things suddenly so I figured something was making me sick and kept experimenting with removing things from my diet and environment until my health improved. We thought we found it - we suspected I was celiac for a bit, but, uh...

Ironically days after finally going to the doctor to get my symptoms checked out, I got woken up at 4am by what felt like something in my gut exploding and I ended up in the hospital. They kept me there for a week then discharged me because 1. while I was in extreme pain I evidently wasn't dying 2. in the process of getting misdiagnosed I got triaged to a hospital that didn't have a gastroenterology department and they had no means to diagnose or treat me.

We still don't actually know what is wrong, we've only narrowed it down; I've been on a waiting list to see someone about it since December. I'm in a lot of pain 24/7, have a lot of nasty symptoms, and feel lethargic all of the time. It sucks. I don't really have the energy to draw or make posts.

I really wish I had a happier answer for you. I'm sorry. But uh, that's the gist of why my blog has been extremely quiet.

On the bright side, I stopped working on my DST stuff pretty much the entirety of 2024, but back in December I picked modding back up and it's been fun. I'm very excited about it. I've just been too tired to make posts - I do want to get back into that at some point though.

If I get a prognosis that indicates that my absence is going to be lengthier I will probably make a post about it.

[alyjojo]

March 🌞 2024 Monthly - Capricorn

Preshuffle: Something you see or hear at/regarding work hits you in a way that, it hurts! Really hurts your feelings, but you also don’t know if it should or if someone *meant* to hurt your feelings. Were they even talking about you? You don’t speak up so you don’t know. Some of you have a crush on someone at work and it’s that person, for others it could be something regarding how someone looks. Or maybe you, again you don’t know. You’re worried maybe someone doesn’t like you at all.

Meditation: Short & sweet but cute as hell. Your door, was on the floor, and I had to “drop in” to get in, but it was made of ice cream sandwich. The actual door was. So I dropped in & took a bite of your door and you chuckled, cut off the piece I bit (germs hello) and replaced that spot, good as new. I asked what was this for and your eyes kinda sparkled when you said “I’m drawing them in.” Really, with ice cream? Yes! You knew what you were doing 🤷🏻‍♀️

Main energy: The Hermit

Oracles being Trap (connected to and mimicking 4 Swords), Self-Love, Principle, and Illness at the bottom which refuses to not be acknowledged - so it’s important. The Hermit is clarified by The Devil, and this energy is better than ice cream any day ijs. Or is that the trap? 🤔 Whooo I heard that and gasped 😱 it gave me goosebumps! Ok I don’t like that…moving on. Not for everyone, definitely for someone. For some of you, illness or addiction may be involved, health on some level. The Hermit goes inward, these are things you’re privately working through, taking a hard honest look at yourself and your own issues. Or…setting a trap for someone with that behavior, maybe you’re suspicious of someone proven as a Devil but acting as if they’ve changed. Have they though? You’re going deep within to figure that out - alone. Because these two cards specifically tackle codependency and breaking free from that - however it’s affecting you. A person, an addiction, a mindset, something that’s kept you in chains or threatens to? At the bottom is a lot of work, literally could be work, or you’re putting more into yourself independently because it’s necessary. Self care, healing, sleeping better, could be medical issues too.

What’s going on in March:

4 Swords:

Some of you are just done with love, the last experience probably kicked your butt, you have inner work to do and don’t want anyone else getting in the way of that. If you’re choosing to be alone, then you mean business, it’s not something you can be coerced with. The Emperor sets boundaries, and at the bottom of the deck there’s a pattern of abandonment, either in you or towards you, you realize this isn’t healthy and you’re actively taking steps to work on bettering yourself. Good for you 👏 Some of you may be dealing with a father figure / ex spouse perhaps, they could be dealing with health problems and want to make amends for past transgressions. This may be you too, if you have health issues (could just be sick sometime this month), then someone you’ve not been getting on well with could use this as the opportunity to “take care of” you and relight a spark. Do nice things. Idk if it actually is a trap or you just see it that way, what I get from someone else seems genuine. Judgement at the bottom is a hard review of past decisions & everything that’s happened, someone is sorry. Victory under that. Whether you believe them or not…🤷‍♂️ Could be you with the same energy, swooping in to save the day, or that was the intention. The trap.

Queen of Swords:

Clarified by Ace of Swords, 3 Pentacles, The Empress at the bottom. Likely a partner or parents. Great cards coming out so far, I was kinda expecting more doom & gloom, but no. For some of you it could literally be a Hermit mentality that’s becoming toxic, people want you around, likely your parents if that’s the case, could be grandparents, aunt/uncle or aunt/aunt idc, a pair you’re close (ish) to. The more feminine energy of the pair is the one trying to get you to come around, calling you, sending you some kind of news or invite, maybe for a coming holiday, it’s their excuse to see you again. Could be an ex if you’ve recently split, or your partner if not. They’re not being emotional at all, but they’re communicating to you with a sense of fairness, honesty, all positive cards at the bottom of the deck, this person sees you warmly & feels good to be around you 😊 They could ask for your help with something, also as an excuse, but I’m seeing it’s not manipulative or anything, they just want to work together. The image I’m getting is my own grandma calling my dad every year to set up her window air conditioner. She genuinely needed it but she liked asking *him*. Was it a “trap” yeah and also, go see Grandma 😆

If this is a private thing, both of these may be your energy and you’re separating yourself from just about everyone, seeing the truth of a matter, a cycle, and setting up strict rules & boundaries with anyone interacting with you going forward. Self-Care 💜 You’re not going to argue, it’s not drama, it’s you knowing what you need or don’t need, what’s good and bad for you, raising your standards. Probably because you’ve experienced the bad stuff, or you’re more intellectual with all of these swords, I don’t see emotions really appealing much to you. “Love” is a trap, but teamwork is essential.

Judgement:

Your attitude towards a reconnection of some kind is just not enthused at all. It’s like you don’t even care…could be a lack of emotions showing up as “illness”. I’m not a doctor so, no examples, I’m not even seeing any. Devoid of a deeper emotional connection, or enough experience with something to know better. Judgement feels like actual judgement, a reconnection is available for someone but most are internalizing and keeping to themselves. Whatever wants to reunite, you don’t. Or they don’t. Mostly because there are heavy emotions involved, hidden at the bottom, and they’re not being talked about. If you address it, you’re going to feel it, and if you feel it, you’re just going to be sad. So you stay alone and don’t, you don’t have to care in this headspace, you just work and focus on what’s in front of you. Comfortably Numb - is what I heard. The Devil.

For those where reconnecting doesn’t apply, you’re considering your work, everything you’ve been applying effort to, and you feel trapped either way. If you stay, you feel blocked, like things will never change, you could/should be appreciated more but you’re not. If you go, you’re just going to be sad you left and things are going to get worse, doom & gloom, there it is. The Devil 👿 Negative perceptions that keep you stuck, even if they’re based off of real things or past experiences, The Fool is something brand new, it’s not *the same* experience. Some of you realize this and may be seeking clarity on these mental judgements or behaviors even that keep you stuck. Probably privately, I’m not seeing a counselor here, but if it exists you recognize it. Someone may have flat out told you with this Queen of Swords energy.

Strength:

Strength conquers The Devil, that’s what you want to see, by refraining to be trapped, engage, or deal with anything involving this behavior - even in yourself. Re-tuning your own mind, if it jumps to the negative conclusion, questioning your own self. Now why would I think that? Oh, because I’m conditioned to. It isn’t easy, some of this may have come from parents in the first place (even well-meaning or healthy ones). The Hanged Man clarifies, so not only is your magnifying glass to yourself and your own bs, but Judgement with this row shows you’re also studying those around you and gauging where certain behaviors or beliefs may have come from. Why am I like this?? Essentially. The deeper motivations of people. Very powerful energy this month, heavy major arcana. Principle in your oracles show that this is based on a personal moral/belief system for you. Regardless of what others have taught, said, think, whatever, for YOU this is a spade, I’m allergic to spades. No spades by me. You can like spades and that’s fine but keep that shit over there because no. Or whatever it is.

At the bottom is a couple again, could be a person, could be parents. You don’t want to connect to the emotion attached to this situation, it’s *pure* logic, and you think emotions are the trap. Love is a trap. But there is very deep love here, whether for parents, a spouse, a whoever they are. All Cups, the matching Cups pair, could be your soulmate even. It’s like you don’t see that or don’t want to, it’s easier to make decisions from an intelligent and moralistic viewpoint than letting emotions get involved because then things get messy. Deep down it’s like you love something deeply and have sadness or regret, but it’s buried under all of this maturity belief system bs, and it’s like yeah okay whatever AND, you love them. Period. Whoever. Whatever. /avoid

If it’s work, you may not see how much people actually care for and appreciate you. Closest thing to love, you are a valued member of a team even if others don’t always show it. Some of you need to stop being so logical and check in with your heart. Are you happy? Do you love this thing you do? Do people appreciate you? Is it actually toxic or no? You’re ignoring the emotion part of decision making, it can look great on paper all the way down the page and you still hate it or love it so - that matters 💯

6 Swords:

Moving away from drama, but clarified by The Hermit it seems more like moving away from Hermit energy. Page of Cups at the bottom can be a surprise, an invitation, flirty energy even. The Star follows as healing, a light in the dark to show you the way. Lucy from Indigo shows a friend. Someone is going to message you, and it may freak you out at first because you’re living in a cave or something, but it actually turns out well. It gets you out of your head (for a minute anyway) so you can see things differently. You only feel stuck. Maybe you were meant to be stuck to realize some shit. But you’re not “meant to be stuck” forever. Someone else’s love or kindness can trigger you to be nicer to yourself, and let go of some of these negative perceptions about the world, life, love, emotion, etc. If work, someone is likely to surprise you and make things better then even you thought they’d be. Love can access things that logic can’t, because nothing about love is logical. Doesn’t have to be romantic either, someone giving off love towards you, could be a sweet stranger, it doesn’t matter but it’s going to inspire you.

Signs you may be dealing with:

Virgo, Capricorn, Libra, Leo & Aquarius

Oracle: ✨

38 Growth 🪴

This situation or time is one of rapid growth. The seeds that have been planted have germinated and taken root. Go with the flow of this growing time. You may find people and situations falling away from your life, as now they do not serve who and what you are becoming. It may be that your vibration no longer resonates with theirs. It’s okay, wish them well, be grateful for what they brought to you and you to them, and send them on their way. Room has now been made for new experiences, people, and situations to help you to your next level. If you are not feeling this shift right now, be prepared because it will soon come to pass.

Trap 🪤

Victim - Allure - Trick

Self-Love ❤️

Self Concern - Self Healing - Independence

Principle ⛪️ - Sagittarius Saturn

We enter into March as:

Final Sunset 🌅 :

“A life has come to its spectacular conclusion.”

This is a reminder to cherish all of the beauty in your life, including endings. Spirit embraces you and the loss you are aware of at this time. When we watch a day’s sunset, we can recognize the beauty of an ending. All things have a completion, even life. This is the end of a long journey. It is a time to reflect on your part of history, and discover what you value most. This could be a long emotional road ending, or simply a project at work that took a lot of effort and time. Too often we look to what is “next”, and miss the spectacular beauty of the finale. Do not fear the completion. Stay in the now, cry, laugh, reflect. Be with the fullness of your experience.

What is to be learned in March:

Lucy From Indigo 💟:

“I’m so glad you’re in my life.”

If this card has come to you, then you’ve been graced with a connection and you are most fortunate. One of the most valuable assets in our lives is friendship. This is a reminder to be grateful for the people in your life, this itself raises our vibration to a higher level. If you are unhappy in any relationships, Lucy is a reminder that it is always in our power to change it. Whatever lack you are feeling in your life, if you give that to others, you will receive the very thing you feel deprived of. The time is now to become what we want to become. If you are withholding from anyone it is you who will suffer the consequences. Be the example and live this day with gratitude. Kindness is contagious. In order to be who we want to be, we must simply be that person, there is no mystery to being a good person. Good people do good things.

Purple may be a lucky color 💜

[anothersebastianblog]

I share opinions of people that completely different to mines id say daily probably (about his rs, his friends etc)./// Okay… Then please explain how you see a loving couple on all of those pap walks. Because I see a man who is so over all this shit that he literally can’t smile with his eyes anymore. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think this is a contract, as in actual papers were involved. But I do believe what DM and Enty said about this being a set up with some pretty strict boundaries and how they don’t even consider themselves GF/BF to other people. I think he enjoyed his time with her to being with but he is Seb and his relationship last maybe about 18 months to 2 years and then he gets bored and moves on. He looks like he getting a little bored. They badly interacted at the wedding, yes he was there, we know, but in multiple videos and pictures from multiple people all throughout the night, they hardly even acknowledge each other. She had his jacket for like 2.5 seconds and then put it on the back of her chair. But other than that they were like a couple who had been in a fight and were putting on a pleasant face for the crowd.

I don’t see lovey couple from them. I see friends who are traveling together and just enjoy not being alone. What goes on behind closed doors… who knows. But he sure as hell doesn’t act like he did with previous GF’s and yes people change but not that much. Your love language doesn’t just change and Seb’s is definitely physical touch (you can tell by how he acts with past GF’s, friends, family, and fans.)

I’m saying all this with the utmost respect for you and your blog and just trying to get someone else spin on this situation. Cause how I see it is not ✨endless love✨ it’s more ✨2 years and onto the next✨

And I’m not a hater btw, I just don’t think they have good chemistry. ✌🏻❤️

Ok so i am trying to reply in the most complete way i can but i am sure other anons will be able to add their interesting thoughts/points to mines.

The most important thing that is important to not forget about is we absolutely don’t know them (vali for both sides) and that we see just 2% of their lives. This is why I can’t understand why you draw so many conclusions in that ask with statements that seem the one and only truth.

On our side we act following the easiest path: two people are seeing together, kissing each others, walking hand in hand, hang out with each other’s families because they are together, as a couple.

Important: none of us ever said they are gonna last or that they have been the most important person for the other in their love life. I feel like some people pretend to think we said that to make us look stupid or something. We very well know seb’s love life history, this doesn’t mean we shouldn’t think these two are dating.

If i was you i would NEVER believe DM and Enty, every time I heard that from someone i go 😳. They have gossip pages just like this one with the difference that at least we concentrate our energy on ONE person and take time to analyse details, while they chose to speak about EVERY celebs, taking infos from non verified sources AND fans. They don’t directly follow the celeb in question they just report the infos sent. Sebastian is not Kim K, if he is getting married you will firstly know about it and DM will know it after you from some fans. Not from a PA or an insider. This is valid for every infos about him. And remember Enty is also 4738292 time worse than DM. (If you believe what they said about seb and annabelle i have to think you also believe the drug addiction rumours….)

He doesn’t smile in “all of those” pap walks (3…)? He is a normal person, i myself don’t smile 24/7. Especially if the pap walk wasn’t planned or if he agreed on it but still didn’t like doing it. You said he doesn’t act like with previous gf… too easy saying it that NOW because the others are GONE. People said that about ale as well (remember the ibiza pap walk?) and yet he seemed VERY happy in her bday video. So we should fall in the conspiracy theories hole and think he was acting in that video? So PR? Just wondering.

About the wedding… this is the part that surprised me the most: with the most respect, i feel like people who genuinely think what you wrote is the truth just can’t accept facts. We saw 3 videos of them, 4 seconds each. That’s not nearly enough to say they didn’t interact! And btw we didn’t even have a situation in which you would expect pda/interactions they way you wanted to see: they didn’t need to acknowledge each others because they already know the other one was there, they know each other and have been in a rs for 1.5 years.. they are 40 not 16.

The jacket thing…. Pls. You saw two pics and still decided to form a complete thought and narrative about it. You don’t know how many seconds she wore it and it is absolutely not an important detail that proves something (for both sides btw) but still funny that is being used as a proof.

Idk what to tell you but some people (Not necessarily you) like to think this way because it’s the easiest option if they want him single (and unhappy apparently).

The easiest option is the correct one most of the times, imo. And if he is that unhappy he should leave her, or else that worst bf ever badge is there ready for him.

Maybe you will find this too harsh (not my intention) but I honestly am a bit tired (not about you specifically, thanks for sending your opinion) when i see that people WANT to believe in something and in order to do that they make up stuff and draw conclusions from absolutely nothing.

[hannahhasafact]

Gonna treat my tumblr like a journal and ramble some thoughts, feel free to read if you want:

Little by little, my apartment is becoming a place that doesn’t feel… embarrassing? Like being an adult woman, many of my friends and family my age have living situations that are nice. In some ways, I feel like my apartment still looks like one a college kid lives in, and it’s just embarrassing. I’ve never really had people hang out at my apartment because 1. There’s no space for people and 2. It’s just not a nice hang out space. But I feel like I’m getting better at making it a nicer space I think.

Related by why the fuck is my house constantly dusty I am ALWAYS DUSTING

I know there’s still probably a month until we find out about k-con artist alley but god the waiting is killing me. Like it would be incredible and awesome to get in yes but more than anything it’s the not knowing that is killing me oh my god. Probably won’t find out until the end of June and I’m dying (though I totally get why! I’m just so impatient)

I’m in this weird moment in my life where technically I probably have some sort of undiagnosed anxiety disorder but at the same time it feels weird to say that? Like what I mean is literally multiple people around me will be like “yeahhhhh there might be something up” and I’ve had physical reactions to stress in such a way, but it feels weird to say I have a thing without being like… actually diagnosed with a thing? Feels like I’m making excuses for myself.

In the same vein, I’ve been thinking about “Huh. Why am I having such a visceral response to anxiety compared to how I used to be.” And ngl I think it’s because I’m basically doing no physical activity? I’ve been a pretty physical person all my life and in the last few months it has dropped to like… zero movement. After getting covid, I allowed myself to not be physical mainly because holy shit it wipes you the fuck out. And then… I kind of just stopped moving. And it’s so hard to get moving again. Especially because I’m so tired all the time, but I know that physical activity helps with that drained energy! And I know it would help with my brain! And with so much! And I just… haven’t.

Every time I talk to my mom all she asks is if I have any job interviews. Which like… I get why she’s asking, but god it really sucks to have to deal with that on every fucking call with her. It feels like a check in that I’m failing at.

I know I need to be applying for more jobs but I also need to start working out and I need to be drawing more and oh maybe I should look into practicing trumpet again but I would have to go to a place to practice because I can’t do that in my apartment and I need to donate some clothes but first I have to wash them but also I should work on putting myself out there because I’m not going to get a date sitting in my house and I don’t need a person in my life but it might be nice because fuck man life is so goddamn hard on your own but also-

That’s where my brain is at most of the time and instead of doing anything I mute my thoughts with assorted media. So yeah that’s the vibe.

I’m trying to drink less because 1. It’s not good for me and 2. Pretty sure it’s making my anxious-ness worse but holy hell rewatching Ted Lasso really made me want rose or a pint of cider

This three day weekend has not been enough days, but at least I cleaned my apartment today

Bijou is doing alright. It’s strange because she has noticeably less energy, but like she’s okay. I’m still feeling sad feelings, but I’ve gotten to a more accepting vibe. Also it’s been weird how so many older people I know have been like “you should get another cat immediately” 1. She’s not even dead yet and 2. I’ve kind of gotten used to the idea of not having a cat after she’s gone. That might change, but right now it’s like 1. The emotional strain this has taken on me I can’t deal with immediately again 2. I’ve already been hemorrhaging money this year, a new cat would be a financial decision that i don’t think is smart and 3. Any living creature is a lot of time commitment, and I think it might be good for me to not constantly be worried about an animal at home and if they’re doing okay. Like I said: Bijou is still here, but I’ve obviously been having to think about this stuff a lot.

Tumblr this shit is so annoying please stop doing this:

I know how tags work on this fucking website

Anyways, those are just my rambly thoughts.

[wishing-stones]

Hoo boy - anxious about overstepping but willing to give a matchup request a go anyways. Feel free to let this sit if you’re busy :)

Burnt-out overachiever. It’s not uncommon for me to pick up other people’s slack at work (science teacher) even if it means 14 hour days without lunch. Defining trait: “is nobody else going to do this thing that needs to be done” (doesn’t wait for an answer.)

It’s not that I … want, necessarily, to do it? If someone offers I will HAPPILY work out a fair distribution of labors. It’s just that I’m good at Seeing things that need doing. See things that could be improved. Notice gaps and Care enough to say “ah fuck it, add it to the list.” There’s just… a whole world to save and damnit if it’s not going to save itself then I guess SOMEBODY’s gotta do it.

Personality wise, my default is Little Miss Sunshine. High-energy, singing in the halls, enthusiasm x100, energizer bunny. Sometimes I joke that I’m an EduTainer more than anything else, and I will freely admit that I kill myself off trying to keep up with it all, but by god I will figure out what gets results or die trying. The trade off is that by May I‘ve burnt the candle at both ends until I’m nothing more than a stump and need a solid 2 weeks of “don’t talk to me” to recuperate functionality, and the rest of the summer to slowly rebuilt the backup battery that lets me run at 200% energy for 8 hours at a time nonstop for 300 14 year-olds.

Off the clock, I’m more into the humanities. If I have the energy for it I love painting, drawing, writing, cooking, baking, crafting, crochet, sewing, etc. 👀 Still, uh, a bit of a busy bee there too. I’m learning Spanish, French, Greek, Latin, & Japanese. The world is just….. it’s so full of magic, you know? Like I might be 17 kinds of physically and emotionally exhausted (if I sit down I might literally fall apart at the seams ngl) but how can a person sleep when there’s so MUCH out there? Places to see, things to learn, mittens and hats and brownies to make for people so they know I still love them even if I forgot to answer their text and now it’s been long enough that’s it’s awkward…. lol.

"Fine, I'll do it myself," is definitely a trait that attracts Blue. He also enjoys improving things he thinks need improving. He similarly is happy to work out an even workload, and will gladly split the work evenly with you so neither of you wind up too worn out. That way, you don't have to save the world by yourself! He's here to help!

Despite outwards appearances, Blue does occasionally struggle with genuinely being happy-- he figures if he makes other people happy, he'll be happy, too, but it doesn't always work out that way. Having someone else around that matches his energy and vivacity helps this immensely. He's also game to help grade tests or prep courses, and delights in learning what you're up to. (If he knows the coursework, he knows how to correctly help grade things!) Besides that, he's got a little more than a passing fancy in science. He pursued a career in the Royal Guard, sure, but before then, before he had to drop it to take care of his little brother, he was a science major with his sights set on a doctorate.

But, having the summer off means he gets to spoil the living daylights out of you during the nicest months of the year! He loves to be outdoors, so you can bet he'll take you to the beach, or a lake, or to go hiking, or just sightseeing. Maybe even some destination vacations! He's of a very similar mind, and is eager to learn and see everything he can! There's so many amazing things in the world, and he wants to see and do as many of them as he possibly can. He'd also gleefully learn those languages alongside you.

...And also help you when you finally do sit down and fall apart.

I'd have said Baggs initially, but I think the high energy would tire him out quickly. He'd be great in short doses, though! You're welcome to have coffee or tea with him and chat for a while.

[moroser]

[incoming long and personal and dark post]

it dawned on me that it’s april and that means it’s been 6 years since i stopped doing drugs. big achievement. i did weed the whole time, thinking i needed it to keep away from the worse stuff, but i stopped that too, almost 2 months ago now. everything i’m about to talk about i did without anyone in my life (offline) noticing and all by myself.

my entire life has been unstable and so difficult. and i mean difficult and sad. i used to drink pretty heavily, but i stopped when i found pills. i was taking pretty much any opioid i could find, i even stole them. i was text book addict with pills. i had every excuse to keep going with it, it made sense to me at the time. i was in so much pain mentally, emotionally, and eventually, physically. taking them was reprieve. 

eventually, i was taking so many a day, quite honestly i should have died. my brain was blank, i lost my creativity and i stopped drawing, which is the one thing i love the most to do. create. even though i did not stop, the fact i felt nothing in that realm anymore was heartbreaking. i’d spent several nights staring at the ceiling practically waiting to die. i had one dream that i can remember while on drugs and it was of me staring at myself opened-eyed and dead on my bed. it shook me.

the drugs affected my ability to think, cry and feel, then one day on my way to work, after taking so many, i got so sick on the side of the road on the freeway several times. eventually i pulled off into a town i didn’t know and passed out in the parking lot of a gas station for who knows how long. i woke up dazed with the taste of puke in my mouth, and totally dehydrated. i missed work, i was embarrassed with myself. i have no idea how long i sat there for before getting out of the car to walk around. eventually i made it home but i felt like i wasn’t the same after that. 

decided to detox (after trying before, and failing), which was the worst events i’ve been through in my life. took days, nearly a week to get over the worst of the symptoms. i don’t think i slept at all. i was so sick, shakes and chills, vomiting, etc. i let spongebob play for the entire time, that sponge grounded me lol. i’d made it through that time. and i stuck too it, using my desire to feel my creativity again and wanting to be better to my body to stay away from relapse. 

2017 i cleared my system of alcohol, pills, energy drinks, pop, and the only thing i’d let myself use was weed because i felt it would stop me from everything else. and technically, it did. it aided me for a long time. but the passed ~3 years i’ve been so ill with stomach issues and nausea and throwing up that i decided to stop that too. 

so now i’ve been completely sober for 1 month and 21 days. for the first time since high school i have nothing in my system that is altering me the way substance abuse has. it’s been a major adjustment. my focus is shit, my sleeping is difficult and my dreams are insanity. it literally feels like i’m sleeping just to wake up somewhere else because my dreams are so vivid and clear. i wake up every four hours having to adjust and remember i actually live here, not in dreamland. i didn’t dream at all while on drugs or weed, so in a way, i welcome the vibrancy of them. 

looking back, none of those things helped me. they only broke and shrouded my spirit with a darkness i don’t want to feel ever again. i want to be healthy and i want to give my body the chances that it deserves. i want to heal properly. i want to live so much. i want to find someone to be with that will understand me and accept me even with my flaws and history. i feel better already, but i know there’s still a long journey ahead and i can only hope it gets better. i deserve better. i know i’m a good person. i know i have so much creative potential in me and it’s what i want to give my energy and soul to.  

thanks for listening, if you read this. i am proud of myself for getting as far as i have but the support from my friends and strangers online has been a colossal sense of communal help i’ve never had offline. sharing my art has been a big help and just people enjoying it means so much to me. thank you.  

[iloveramensm]

i wish you were mine - deckard shaw

POV: you confess to Deckard after getting jealous and it doesn’t go as planned (This takes place during the Hobbs & Shaw movie)

Part 1 Part 2

The crew needed to stay the night at Madame M’s mansion in order to actually rest before pursuing your mission. Luckily, you all were able to get your own rooms but you all were burning energy by talking and joking around with each other in the living room.

“That's not even true you fuckhead” Hobbs exclaims, laughing and throwing his arm around Hattie. 

“Listen you big-headed rock, I know what I saw” Deckard smiles, taking another sip from his drink.

“Well before I get thrown into the insult battle, I’m gonna take this as my cue to leave” Hattie states, getting up and smiling “Goodnight guys” Luke stumbles up and after her, and I shake my head, smiling to myself

“Goodnight guys,” I say, taking a sip of my drink and looking at the fireplace. Deckard and madame M were sharing a couch, exchanging flirty looks the entire night. I slightly frown as he moves closer to her and I stand up abruptly. 

“I’m gonna go. Night guys” I rush out of the room, not even bothering to wait for a response. As my eyes burn I shut the door and immediately go to my bed, face diving into it and crying.

Me and Deckard Shaw have been flirting and messing around for months, in fact, I think since we’ve met. I, being the lonely bitch I am, developed a crush on him. I, also being the dumb bitch I am, thought he had some pinch of feelings for me but after seeing how flirty and touchy he was with Madame, I knew that wasn’t the case. When I thought about it more, Deckard never really touched me. I mean we'd hug or shake hands every now and then if we were saying bye, but other than that we never purposefully touched each other. I screw my eyes closed, the burning of my eyes and the pain in my chest getting more intense. I grab some tissues and go to the bathroom, cleaning myself up so I could at least try to get some sleep. 

Literally, 4 hours later, 2 am, I’m still wide awake. I tried watching movies, drawing, reading, and everything else I could do and nothing was working. Eventually, I decided to just get a snack and water and maybe head outside. As I walk down to the kitchen, I hear panting coming from Deckard’s room. My face heats up and I quickly keep walking, not letting any more tears fall over this British assassin. 

I walked into the kitchen, grabbed what I needed for a bowl of sherbet, and walked out to the porch. I had grabbed my headphones and phone so I could listen to music or even a crime podcast. As I sit by the pool, I eat my sherbet and look at the stars with thoughts filling my head. All of a sudden, I feel someone shaking my shoulder and I jump, whipping around to see a shirtless Deckard.

“Deckard? What did something happen? Where's Luke?” I ask, panicked and placing my bowl down, bending down to put on my shoes

“No it's ok love nothing happened I was just checking on you, I noticed you out here and just wanted you to be safe,” He says, rubbing my back. I take a deep breath and look at him. 

“Oh, um ok sorry for freaking out I just thought- yeah” I laugh nervously, sitting back down. Deckard sits next to me in silence and I fidget with my fingers, wishing he'd say something.

“Couldn't sleep?”

“No, not really, I don't know why it’s like I’m tired but I can't sleep”

“Anything been plaguing that beautiful brain of yours?”

I scoff “nope” My face burns as I remember he just had sex with madame and I feel my eyes burning again. I finish my sherbet quickly and stand up

“Y/N-”

“I'm going to go,” I say, slipping on my shoes and heading towards the sliding door.

“Y/N wait!-” An arm grabs me and I look at Deckard, frustrated.

“What Deckard?”

“Somethings wrong and I think I did something but i-i don’t know what I did and I want to fix it so please talk to me love” he says, looking into my eyes and furrowing his brow.

“Please stop calling me that” I whisper

“What? What is it just talk to me sweets”

“Don’t call me love, or sweets, just fuck off” 

“No” he grunts, getting angry “we are talking about this right fucking now Y/N”

“I fucking like you, Deckard! Are you fucking happy now? Every since we’ve met ive liked you and I thought you I don’t know, saw me more than a friend, and obviously you don’t so yeah I’m a little upset but ill get over it. I didn’t even want to tell you this shit” I say, shoving off of him

“Y/N…i-” he takes a step back, some unknown emotion filling his eyes.

“Just drop it, Deckard, please” I walk into the mansion, rinsing my bowl off and going back to my room where finally, after confessing my dumbass feelings to that dumbass assassin, I’m able to sleep.

--

ill be dropping a part 2 soon even if no one wants one LMFAOO

[jackrrabbit]

Adversary /// Overhaul x f!Reader (18+)

Summary: You make a deal with the devil to save your life, but it turns out Overhaul’s not interested in your soul.

A/N: Remember when I said I was going to do a fantasy collab and then dipped for like 9 months? Hahaha…anyway…

@pleasantanathema @ present-mel @shadowworks—if it’s not too late, here’s my part for the Pleasant & Strider Fantasy AU Writing Collab from a million years ago. Go check out the masterlist and gorge yourself on these amazing pieces!!

Tags/Warnings: dubcon, demon fuckery & occult things, big heresy/sacrilege/perversion of religion, sex in a church ft. Catholic sex guilt, other than that it’s not that bad lol, inexperienced reader, mild degradation, shameless camp and demon-fucking clichés, Overhaul calls you “little girl” 👉👈

He doesn’t look like a demon.

Not that you really know what demons are supposed to look like. But…red skin, right? Fangs and claws and swirling masses of bad energy. Maybe cloven hooves for feet. Yes, that’s the Disney version—but even if you didn’t expect a cartoon personification of evil, you didn’t expect this.

He looks like a doctor, you think. Lab coat hanging open, surgery mask pushed down under his jaw, stethoscope draped over his shoulders. No, he’s a little young to really look like a doctor…an intern, you amend, shifting back in your hospital bed. He looks like he fits right in here, not a hair out of place. Except for, you know, the polished black horns curling out of the sides of his skull.

Overhaul. It was written in the book. That’s the only thing you have to call him in your head.

He’s standing in the center of the sigil you drew at the foot of your bed before midnight, surveying the room critically without meeting your gaze. He looks annoyed—that’s not a good sign, is it?—but then again, of course he’s annoyed. You’d be annoyed too if you got summoned out of your cozy hell dimension in the middle of the night. According to the book, you’re lucky he even showed up…although ‘lucky’ isn’t really how you’d describe yourself most days.

“So,” Overhaul says after a long moment of silence in which you question every choice you’ve made in your relatively short life. “You’re dying.”

You nod.

“And you don’t want to be.”

You nod again, wondering if you’re supposed to be contributing more to this conversation. It’s a bit difficult when your mouth is so dry it feels like you’ve been eating dirt, but you suppose being in the presence of an unholy servant of Satan will do that to a person.

“Fine.” He sighs, frowns, and then finally lowers his gaze onto yours—and you shiver.

Those eyes. No human has eyes like that.

“Make me an offer,” Overhaul tells you, and through his open mouth you catch a flash of sharp white teeth.

Okay. Okay. The chirping of the heart monitor speeds up (as if it weren’t obvious enough that you’re terrified) and you fold your knees up to your chest and fidget with your ring and think. He’s giving you a chance to establish parameters. You’re supposed to start with his end of the deal, the thing you want from him. That’s what it said to do in the grimoire, aka the 19th century demonology volume your creepy cousin brought back from her pagan anthropology research trip in rural France. The one you keep hidden under your bed because your mother would burn it if she knew you were reading about summoning demons.

Offer nothing to a hell creature without first telling him your price. You know the words by heart, both the winding calligraphy of the original French from the grimoire and the rushed scrawl of the English translation your cousin left for you in sheets of lined paper layered between the pages of the book for you to read. Really, this is her fault. She was the one who slipped you the book, who told you that it worked, who snuck you the ingredients for the summoning. She was the one who left a bookmark at the chapter on this particular demon, one that specializes in ‘Contrat pour Remédier au Déséquilibre des Quatre Humeurs’, which she said meant a contract to cure any illness. Even his ‘name’ is translated in her hand, practically an afterthought in the margins of the page.

‘Le Malin qui Ravage et Rebâtit’— Overhaul?

You looked up the literal meaning of this phrase on your own. It did not reassure you.

“Girl.” His voice is cold, irate. Your eyes snap back up to his and it feels like that burning gaze is laser-beaming into your skull. “Do not test me. My time is limited…as is yours.”

You swallow. “How long do I have left?”

“Less than a single human year,” he tells you without a trace of sympathy. “Seven months, twelve days, three hours. Or so. You’ll be too exhausted to leave this bed in four months, and the pain will become intolerable in six… By the end, you’ll wish—“

“Stop,” you breathe out. The heart monitor is beeping wildly and you squeeze your knees into your chest, trying to calm down your breathing. “Stop, I—I want to live.”

“Of course you do.” Overhaul’s lip curls. “How very predictable.”

Be specific, you remind yourself, doing your best to ignore the stifling disapproval from the man—the demon—in front of you. Something about him (maybe how clean-cut he looks, maybe the indisputable authority in his demeanor) makes you want to impress him. But you didn’t turn your back on your religion—you didn’t draw pagan symbols on the floor in chalk, fill silver cups with various questionable substances (including your own virgin blood), and turn the crucifix your mother hung over your bed upside-down so you could let a demon make you feel guilty for wanting to survive. “I want to be cured. I’m okay with whatever natural death I have instead when I’m older, I just don’t want to die of this illness. I want you to make me healthy.”

“Simple enough. What else?”

‘Simple’? Your heart surges with something you’ve felt very little of since your initial diagnosis—hope. “T-That’s it. Just the cure.”

Overhaul glares at you. “Humans… Every vice in the world available to you, and you limit yourselves to the basest priority of survival.”

“But you can do it? You can cure me?” you persist.

Overhaul steps forward (quiet, so quiet you wonder if he really moved) and holds a hand out to you past the foot of your bed—you hesitate, and a second later you can see the muscles in his hand flex, stretching the latex of his plastic gloves tight over his knuckles.

Just do it. You give him your hand. Carefully. Like you’re scared the contact will burn you. It doesn’t (although his skin feels warmer than yours), but after a moment his grip tightens, sliding down past your hand to circle the fragile bones of your wrist and squeeze.

“Ow?” You wince.

The demon’s eyes flicker closed for a second, lips moving silently like he’s talking to himself—and then he drops your hand unceremoniously back onto your lap. “You could be cured before the sun rises this morning. I doubt your stay in the hospital will extend past the end of the week.”

He sounds bored, voice as flat and passionless as it was earlier, but your heart is soaring. Cured. You’ve lived with this illness for so many years, you can’t remember the last time someone told you you could be cured. And getting out of the hospital that soon? You can just imagine taking down all the decorations from the walls of your room here and setting them up in your old bedroom at home. You could see friends on the weekend and not take an oxygen bag, you could get a job or—or apply to college, you could have a life—

“That is…assuming you have something to offer me in exchange for the cure.”

Your stomach drops. You’d almost forgotten about the other half of the deal.

“Don’t tell me I came all this way for nothing.” Overhaul steps back, and the orange light of the candles you set sends strange shadows over his arrogant face. The fires look brighter now, and you find yourself tracing the lines of those shining black horns. In an odd way, they look natural—so organically framing his temples that you can’t imagine him without them.

“N-No, of course not. I have some money—I mean, my mom has some, and I can get it for you…” Which is half the truth. If you know anything, it’s that your mother’s spent most of her savings on your treatment and care. You probably have more debt than you have money in the bank right now—you’d try to get rid of that, too, if you hadn’t read in the book how important it is to keep your request as simple and straightforward as possible.

…Although it’s apparently not enough. Overhaul’s eyes narrow, molten gold irises carved into slits. “Even if I had a use for human money, do you really believe your life is worth so little?”

“No—no,” you say quickly. “I just thought—in case you were interested—”

The air crackles with energy, the candle flames spark bright blood-red, and the hair on your arms stands straight up. “I am not.”

“Okay! I get it.” You wave your hands back and forth, pulling your IV line from side to side with the motion. The book was very clear about staying calm and rational while you work out the terms of the deal, but that’s easier said than done when you have a real live (live?) hell creature in front of you. You always knew this was going to be the hard part—all the stories say there’s only one thing that a demon would be interested in, and no matter how inviting the prospect of living past this illness is, you know you’d rather die than sell your immortal soul to the devil. “I’ll give you anything except my soul! And—and don’t hurt anyone I care about, or— just don’t hurt anyone, okay? Other than that, if there’s anything I can give you, I will.”

Overhaul’s lip curls, baring a thin strip of those unnaturally sharp canines. “And is your soul really so valuable?”

This throws you for a loop. Isn’t that the standard deal? A soul for a wish? That’s how it’s supposed to work—at least in this twisted version of reality where you can summon a demon to perform unholy miracles for you. But if you think about it, it doesn’t really make sense, does it? Why would your soul be valuable to him? You can’t form an argument, especially since you’re not willing to barter it away in the first place.

Your mouth is pursed open as you search for a response, but Overhaul doesn’t seem willing to wait. A gloved hand wraps its way around the railing at the side of your bed, and he leans in closer. “Little girl…what makes you think you possess anything I desire?”

Little girl. You’re not a little girl, you’re a grown woman—and yet there’s no untruth in the statement. In front of him you feel insignificant, immature, weak. You have nothing real to offer, and something tells you that you’re not going to get rid of the demon you summoned without a sacrifice you’re not willing to make.

You twist your ring around your finger—the nervous habit you haven’t bothered to break because you’ve always had more important things to worry about—and the glint of silver in the candlelight must catch Overhaul’s eye because before you even notice him moving, your delicate hand is trapped in his larger one to give him a better view of the tiny piece of jewelry. “What is this?”

“It’s—um, a ring. A purity ring.” Has he never seen one before? Well…actually, that makes sense.

Overhaul turns your hand over in his without touching the band of silver. He’s looking at it closely, inspecting the lovingly engraved cross in the design and the inscription on the other side. “Matthew 5:8,” he reads out.

“…Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God,” you recite cautiously. It feels wrong to speak the words in front of him, but somehow you can’t help yourself.

Overhaul’s hand doesn’t leave yours. “This ring is important to you.”

“It’s a symbol of a—a promise I made to God. To save myself for my future husband.”

“To ‘save yourself’? To save what?”

You can’t believe you’re explaining this to a literal demon. You close your eyes and inhale slowly and taste smoke. “My…virginity. It’s a promise that I won’t have sex until I enter into a biblical marriage.”

At this, Overhaul is quiet. You give him a moment to answer, half expecting him to question why you think God cares about your sexual status (honestly, you’d be lying if you said you haven’t wondered this yourself), but he stays quiet until you peek up at him to try and gauge the look on his coldly handsome face.

He’s still staring at the ring. He hasn’t touched it—maybe he can’t, because of the cross?—and through the latex, his skin feels hotter than a human’s is supposed to be.

“Is there…” you start, but you trail off when you realize you have nothing to ask. You give a little tug to try and take your hand away and you’re surprised when your wrist actually slides out of his grip to fall back on the nest of sheets in your lap. You didn’t think he’d let you go so easily.

Overhaul turns his head to the side, eyes drilling into you so you feel like you should lower your gaze. The candlelight flickers in strange shadows over his horns. “This will do,” he says quietly.

“What?”

“In exchange for your cure.” The demon taps his own left ring finger, the place where the purity ring sits on your hand, and your heart soars. He actually wants that? It’s just a simple silver band, not worth much, but you’re not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Maybe it has some special significance because of the religious connotation. Your mother will be angry you’ve lost it, but you’re happy to cope with that if it means living to actually get married!

“Yes!” you blurt out before he has a chance to rethink his offer. Sure, you’ll miss the purity ring—you’ve had it since you were a kid, after all—but there’s no question you’re getting the better end of this deal. At least in your opinion.

Something flashes through his yellow eyes, something you don’t even want to try and identify. “The contract, then.”

You barely have time to notice that his voice has gentled, that it’s practically silken in comparison to before, when the candlelight flickers again and suddenly the contract is everywhere. Everywhere. Writing appears on every surface in the room, covering the walls, stretching over the ceiling, coiling around the sides of the hospital equipment and decorating your bedsheets until you and Overhaul are the only untouched surfaces in sight. The characters are inscribed in red, dark red like—don’t think about that, you tell yourself squeamishly. You can make out some of the letters, even a word here or there—French, you recognize, mixed with what looks like Latin and interspersed with what you can only guess are runes.

“I can’t read this,” you tell him, fidgeting with your ring for what you now realize will be the last time.

“I only need your name,” he purrs, and then you feel a fragile weight in your hand: a feather, pearl-black and glossy and too large to belong to any bird you can think of, its angled tip glistening with wet ink. There’s an empty space in the writing before you, and Overhaul’s gloved hand comes to yours again to guide you into place.

This feels wrong…then again, of course it does. Even if you’re getting off relatively easy and just losing your ring rather than your soul, you’re still making a deal with a demon. You sign your name, forcing yourself to think about the future you have ahead of you rather than a disapproving white-bearded caricature of The Man Upstairs wagging his finger at you for haggling with a literal servant of Satan. People have done worse things to survive, haven’t they? It’s just a ring.

You set the feather down and Overhaul sighs, thick black eyelashes obscuring his intense gaze for a moment—and then the contract is gone, leaving your hospital room as blank and sterile as it’s supposed to be (well, aside from the candles and all the other ritual stuff you threw together to summon a demon in the first place).

“Are you going to cure—heal me now?” you ask.

“…Patience, little girl.” He’s pulling his glove off, peeling it down his fingers to bare the pale skin of his hand. You catch your breath and wonder what this is going to feel like, and then the tips of his fingers meet your cheek and—

you stop breathing.

It doesn’t hurt.

Or if it does, you don’t remember the pain a second later when breath floods back into your lungs. What you do feel is energy. Strength in your muscles, blood pumping through your veins, every inhale and exhale as light as a bird and freer. You feel healthy. You’re surprised you even remember what health feels like but you do: it’s like you’ve only been half alive, and now life is surging into you and through you and around you, bubbling up in your core like a spring overflowing. You blink rapidly, thinking you might cry from the sheer pleasure of it, but when you open your mouth it’s laughter that comes out. You’re healthy. You’re alive. You barely notice the IV line literally falling off of your skin because the hole where it entered your vein is sealed shut and healed perfectly.

No more needles. No more hospitals. Even without all the monitors beeping out your heart rate and measuring your vitals, there’s not a shred of doubt in your mind that you’re cured.

“Thank you!” you laugh, looking up at Overhaul and for the first time, not caring that he’s evil incarnate. “I feel—I’m okay! It worked!”

“Of course it did.” His expression is inscrutable, but he lets you have a few moments to enjoy your newfound health.

You roll your shoulders back, flex each muscle you can isolate one by one to test, make fists with your fingers and then run them over your hair, which is already thicker and shinier than it was a moment ago. Your body thrums with energy—you want to run, to feel the ground against your bare feet and the cold night air on your face, and you think you could do it! Your legs are already swinging over the side of your cot, ready to run barefoot out of the hospital if that’s what it takes, but before you can stand up Overhaul’s pushing you back down onto the bed.

“Have you forgotten your end of the bargain already?”

Honestly you did forget, but only for a second, only because you were so excited to just be outside again. “Oh, yeah. Of course.” Your hand goes to your left ring finger, ready to slip the ring off and hand it over, but Overhaul shakes his head.

“Not here.”

“What—?”

You’re falling. Your hospital room is disappearing, the image of your walls and your window and your bed disintegrating into yawning black, and you’re falling through it into nothing, into emptiness, and Overhaul’s still-bare hand in yours is the only anchor you have so you clutch onto it and squeeze your eyes shut. You want to scream—that’s the sane thing to do when you’re falling through miles and miles of empty space, right?—but when you open your throat the sound is swallowed up just like the light was…

Overhaul’s hand burns into yours, an improbable lifeline that you pull closer more out of terror than conscious thought. The slick, empty air rushes around you and you think I am going to die like this and then, incredibly, as soon as you’ve accepted your imminent demise, you feel your back mold onto a chilled, flat surface, vertebra by vertebra up to the back of your head, as if you’ve been lain down onto it.

Your heart thuds in your ears and you brace for an impact because your body hasn’t quite accepted yet that it’s not falling anymore—but at the same time, you know you’re lying down on something. You pry your fingers away from their vice-grip on Overhaul’s arm and feel around blindly for what’s underneath you, and when it seems reasonably tangible you let yourself open your eyes.

Way above, vaulted dozens of feet over your head, is a ceiling studded with gilt-edged frescoes and stained glass. It’s raining (even though it wasn’t in the hospital, you think) but through the massive panes of colored glass there’s enough oily blue light to make out that you’re in a church.

You’re in a church, with a demon. Isn’t that against the rules?

You sit up stiffly and look over at Overhaul, who’s standing at your side and looking down at you…which is how you realize the soft, cold surface you’ve been deposited onto is the blanket on top of the altar in the sanctuary. “Where...did you take me?”

“You should know this place.”

And you do, when you look around. It’s empty now and you’ve never been here at night, but this is a church your mother would bring you to when you were little, back before the disease got so bad you couldn’t risk traveling to it anymore. This is where you took your purity vow…the ring feels heavy on your hand. “Why—why—“

“I can’t stand human hospitals. Filthy places… How that reek of illness and death doesn’t bother your kind, I’ll never understand.” Overhaul pulls his latex glove back on. He’s dressed differently now, no longer impersonating a doctor—black shirt, black pants, and a…bird mask in red leather and gold. So are you, as a matter of fact. Instead of your hospital gown, you’re in a gauzy white dress that’s already been pushed up to pool around the tops of your thighs.

The slip is too thin for the cold, and you can feel your nipples standing up under the cloth so you fold your arms over your chest and hug yourself. “Why did you take me here?” The sound of your voice echoes off the walls eerily and you wish you hadn’t spoken so loudly. The reflection of your words sounds girlish, nervous.

“I told you. Your side of our contract.” Even in this dark, the angular features of his face are clearly concentrating—on you. “Are you already having second thoughts? Such a fickle little thing…”

“You mean the ring?” You reach for it again, ready to tear it off and throw it at him if that’s what it takes to see your deal through, but Overhaul snatches your hand away, pinning it above you.

“Not the ring,” he says. “The promise.”

The…promise?

A chill makes its way down your spine despite the heat radiating off the demon’s body and onto yours. “I don’t understand.”

“The promise,” Overhaul repeats—and you hear a sound almost like wings flapping and then he’s on the altar with you, knees straddling your hips as a single hand holds both your wrists above your head. “To remain a virgin until marriage. Your promise to God.”

A streak of lightning cracks down on the other side of the stained glass window behind the altar, illuminating the room briefly in spectacular pits of red and orange and yellow…and then it’s dark again, and the only color you can make out is the gold in Overhaul’s eyes.

“I’m going to break it,” he murmurs, lowering his head toward your ear right as the answering thunder rolls through the sanctuary, up through the altar, up into you.

///

Méfiez-vous de son piège, the grimoire said. Beware of the catch.

Of course it wasn’t just a ring.

Overhaul’s fingers are in—inside you, his middle and ring finger pumping through the length of your cunt like they belong there, like you were made to be touched this way. A mixture of your juices and your own spit cling to the latex because he made you suck his fingers before he put them in you and he hasn’t bothered to take his gloves off—not that you asked. You’ve been too busy biting your lip to try and muffle the moans that he keeps forcing out of you. He’s bracing himself on top of you with one hand and fingering you with the other, so your own hands are free to push into your eyes and hide your face…until he yanks your arm back and stops.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes are screwed shut and you shake your head back and forth, the movement shuddering your whole body right down to your pussy wrapped around Overhaul’s fingers. He slows the movement and kneels back, pushing one of your thighs up into your chest as he does it.

“Look at me.”

And you’re not sure whether it’s some unearthly power he has over you or the plain old deterioration of your willpower, but you can’t refuse him. You crack your eyes open and he’s glaring down at you, skin pale as ice in the blue light. Once he’s satisfied that you’re watching, the demon leans back in to fuck your cunt with his fingers, slowly at first and then quicker when he hits something inside of you—a spot, a place on the inner wall of your pussy that makes you feel like you’ve been shocked— heat blooms through you like blood in water and you gasp and he curls his fingers up to pet over that spot again.

“Wait—wait, that’s—it feels—weird!” You’ve never felt like this before. You’re not supposed to feel like this, it’s wrong.

“I understand you’ve never touched yourself, but don’t pretend you don’t like it.” Overhaul says, voice as indifferent and calm as ever even though your cunt is dripping clear sticky liquid over the plastic of his glove.

He pushes back in and grinds his palm over the little button on the top of your pussy—your clit?—and you want to scream. “No, I—I don’t—nnhh...”

Do you like it? The demon’s body is so hot next to yours, like he’s running a fever except you’re the one going out of your mind… You’ve heard metaphors for sexual pleasure before (that it’s like having something to drink when you’re dying of thirst; or that it’s the ultimate act of intimacy, love in physical form) but all of that’s a fucking lie. There’s nothing to compare it to, no reference that makes sense, because it doesn’t make sense—you don’t even want him to keep going, do you? You’re only doing this because you signed your name on a devil’s contract, because you don’t want to die and there’s no alternative…but that doesn’t explain why you feel so warm from the inside out, why you’re squirming and your hips are rocking involuntarily no matter how much you try to keep still. This isn’t right. You feel like you’ve been lied to.

A good girl wouldn’t like this.

Overhaul isn’t going to let you close your eyes, so you don’t—but the sounds coming out of your mouth are so…indecent (and how can you think these things about yourself? the word feels like someone else is saying it when you hear it in your head) that your hand is drifting up to your mouth before you can stop yourself, trying to stifle all of it…

“Let your voice out. I want you to hear yourself moan.”

Long fingers slide their way out of your pussy and then move up to rub quick little circles around your clit and you moan, like a whore, like a girl getting her cunt rubbed by a demon— “Oh, uhhhn—something, it’s—coming—“ There’s something building up in your core—a peak, a climax, something that makes you fist your hands in the nightgown he put you in (so tight you’re surprised the thin fabric hasn’t torn) and tilt your hips up into him, begging without words because you don’t have any to express what your body is asking for…

But he doesn’t give it to you. Overhaul takes his hand away from your pussy and the shock of the cool air after his too-hot touch is almost enough to send you over that edge—almost. Not quite. And without it, you’re left shivering and quaking, thighs twitching as your baser instincts beg you to just put your hand between your legs for once and hump your fingers to completion if the demon won’t do it.

You’re not going to risk that, though. Not when Overhaul’s dragging your body closer, bunching up the blanket on the altar under your spine, so your pelvis is angled to his… He’s already shirtless and you hear him unzipping his pants but you can’t bring yourself to actually look at him, even when you feel something hard and hot nudging up against your inner thigh and then aligning to your sticky wet slit.

“This will hurt a bit, but I want you to look,” he says, and you don’t even understand at first until you make yourself feel it—his cock, pushing up against your tight cunt to finish this, this perversion of what your first time was supposed to be…

And what was it supposed to be? Roses and candles and soft kisses? A nameless, faceless husband unzipping your wedding dress and making love to you with the lights off? The way the demon touches you should be cruel in comparison but it isn’t, it’s lighting fires under your skin and turning your brains to mush, so how is your body supposed to tell the difference?

It’ll hurt, you know that, you’ve heard enough about sex to know that it always hurts the first time for girls…women. It was already a stretch to fit his fingers in your virgin pussy, so of course his cock is going to hurt. You turn your head toward the window at your side and try on look out at the rain drawing rivulets like veins over the glass, something to focus on instead of him.

“I said look,” the demon hisses, and his hips push forward a bit and you bite off a whimper of pain. “Watch me take your virginity…look at your tight little cunt swallowing me up just like it was made to.”

“N-No—“ you whine, even though it’s not like you can ignore it. “Don’t make me, don’t make me look, I can’t—“

“Then look at me.”

It’s what he wants, some kind of wicked satisfaction he gets off on, but you’re lucky enough to even get an option so you choose that one, shifting your gaze up into his face instead of the place where his cock is pressing deeper and deeper inside you. Overhaul’s eyes are half-lidded and it’s hard to tell from behind the mask but the look on his face is…pleasure? No, that would be too human. Restraint, at least. He could just thrust up into your body in one stroke, but he wants you to feel it for some reason.

Maybe because it’s a worse betrayal of your chastity if you want to get fucked.

Lucky for you, though, you can barely feel anything aside from the pain. The heat you felt building earlier is draining out of you even as Overhaul tilts deeper, layering his chest over yours. You’re almost grateful for the modest barrier the dress provides between your torso and the solid muscle of his abdomen. His cock in your pussy feels like it’s too big too deep too much and it’s the first time you’ve felt like your body wasn’t created specifically for this purpose so you hold it tight.

“Does it hurt?”

A second of clarity makes you want to snarl (of course it fucking hurts, I’m losing my virginity to a demon I summoned from hell) and you dig your fingernails into your palms to stop yourself from saying it out loud. Overhaul pulls out a fraction of an inch and then pushes back in and you feel like the breath’s being pushed out of your lungs. “Yes! Yes, it—it hurts—“

“I can make you enjoy it…for a price,” he sighs, settling into a slow rocking motion of his hips pushing into yours.

And you want to, every sore muscle in your cunt is telling you to give in and give up, give him what he wants so you can enjoy it like he says—but you’d rather hate every second of this than make another deal. You shake your head quickly and because you’re still too afraid to look away from him, you don’t miss the look of surprise that flits across his face before he tamps it down. “I don’t—I don’t want to—like it,” you gasp out between thrusts. “It’s better if—if it h-hurts…”

This time it’s obvious—his eyes really do widen, and you feel some petty triumph at having caught him off guard like this. Who’s predictable now? you think—and then he’s lifting one hand off the altar at the side of your head and tugging his glove off with his teeth, and you don’t even have time to be afraid of what he’s going to do to you because it’s too late, his bare fingers are already stroking over your mound and onto your core, massaging into the flesh of your stomach so he can feel his own cock sliding in and out of you—

and it doesn’t hurt anymore?

You only have a second to try and understand—he cured you, he healed the pain from your first time just like he healed your illness?—before he hooks his grip under your thigh and folds your legs into your chest so he can fuck into you harder than before. His cock slaps into your pussy and you can hear it, hear how wet your filthy little cunt is, smeared through with your juices. It’s sick—the sound of skin against skin, and the moaning you can’t hold back, you sound like a woman in a porno and you wish the pain would come back just so you could keep hating what he’s doing to you. “What—what did you do—“

The demon ignores you. “It feels good, doesn’t it.”

“Nn—“ It’s deeper like this…deeper and rougher and you can feel it. Now that the pain’s been reduced to the dull ache of a stretched muscle, you can feel everything—his cock sliding against that same spot in your cunt that makes you want to squeal, the friction of his body moving against your clit, all of it, everything you wanted to block out— he pumps into you and you hear your breath sobbing out a moan a second out of rhythm, the sounds of you bouncing on demon cock echoing over the walls. “Please—ah, ahhh…”

“‘Please?’ Are you begging—me, little girl?” Overhaul pushes your thigh up and drags his cock through you, excruciatingly slow, forcing you to feel the thick head slide over every gummy wall in your slick pussy.

You shake your head, mewl, try to force your hips to stop rocking back into his and grinding your clit against him. But you can’t. You’re a—you were a virgin, for fuck’s sake! Overhaul’s immortal. Probably thousands of years of experience on how to make you feel like you want this, like you’re only alive in the places he touches you… You’re at his mercy, if he has any. You never stood a chance.

“Then are you begging your god?” His body lowers directly onto yours and like you’re being controlled by puppet strings your arms fold around him and rake your fingernails uselessly into the smooth skin of his back. You can feel the vibration of his mirthless laughter through his chest. “It must hurt terribly…to know he isn’t listening.”

“Don’t—stop, please,” you sob. “Don’t say—don’t stop—please!”

“Listen to yourself, girl—“ Overhaul’s breath is faster now, but you don’t have time to question it because you feel your peak coming again, the tension rising up through your cunt and your abdomen, harsher and crueler than when his fingers were in you but you want it just as much. More. “Has he ever answered your prayers? Has he...ahh, fuck—who’s the one giving you what you need?”

“No— please, please just let me let me, please—“ You’re talking nonsense now, begging for the release—at least then it’ll be over, and you need it, you need it so badly you feel your muscles locking up, cramping, your ankles crossing each other behind Overhaul’s back.

“Good girl,” the demon breathes, and then he lifts off you so he’s kneeling upright with the two of you still connected, his thick, heavy cock still speared in your pussy, and his fingers come down again to rub at your clit. Everything’s so wet you can hear the motion of his fingers slicking themselves through your juices, sliding up and down the little button over and over and it feels so good that a tiny part of you almost wants to drag it out, to savor it, but the rest of your body is going to die, is going to go crazy if the demon doesn’t let you cum right now, right now, right now!

And he does. Praise the Lord. The pads of Overhaul’s fingers pass over your clit one last time and your head rolls back, your throat moves but you can’t even make a sound, your legs shake and you cum.

You didn’t know it was like this.

Your cunt squeezes down on his cock, throbbing and pulsing and your toes literally curl (you didn’t think that was a real thing!) and your vision goes black for a moment and—oh fuck oh fuck i want this i want more how is it possible that i’ve never felt like this—you understand, more intimately than ever, why sex is wrong:

because nothing that makes you feel this good could possibly come without a cost, could it?

///

It must take longer than you thought for you to come back to your senses, because when you regain awareness of your body you’re in your hospital bed. You’re clean, too, and you wonder for a second if Overhaul bothered to clean you up? Or no…he probably just snapped his fingers and transported you back to your room. You’re not really sure how it works.

What you are sure of, however, is that you just got fucked by a demon. You’re sore in places that you didn’t know it was possible to be sore, and there are already bruises forming on the flesh of your thighs from how tight he was holding you. You don’t really have time to inspect these, though, because apparently your…ordeal (if you can call it that) isn’t over.

Overhaul’s still here.

He’s facing the hints of sunrise through the east window, dressed again in the immaculate lab coat and surgeon’s mask. “You’re awake,” he says without looking at you.

You nod hesitantly. You’re not really sure what the protocol is in this situation, but at least you’ve finally held up your side of the contract, right? And so has he. Despite having been up all night doing sinful things, you’re still itching to get out of this bed and test the limits of your healthy body. “You’re…going to leave, right?”

“Yes—”

At that, you sigh in relief and settle back into your starched bedsheets.

“But there’s one more thing you owe me.”

“Goddamnit,” you swear for the very first time in your life. After what you just did, taking the Lord’s name in vain seems like a relatively minor sin.

Overhaul’s mildly irritated expression doesn’t change, but he holds his hand out to you, palm up, the way you imagine someone would if they were helping you out of a car or requesting a dance at an old-fashioned ball. And really, you want all of this to be over—you want to get out of this hospital, you want to taste what the air outside is like, you want to distract yourself from what you just gave up in exchange for a future. At this point you’re just going to have to hope God isn’t as picky about the whole premarital sex thing as you grew up believing.

So you put your hand in Overhaul’s.

Slowly, carefully, like he’s afraid it’ll burn him, he slides your purity ring down your finger and balances it in the palm of his bare hand. It sizzles when he touches it, glowing orange until it eventually burns down into a ash-black circle in the center of his palm. Once he’s satisfied that your pretty little ring has been reduced to nothing more than a scorch mark, he closes his hand around yours and you feel something sharp, painfully hot, etching onto your finger.

It’s over in a second, but you still yelp and yank your hand away from him as soon as he lets you. “Ah—ow, what was that?”

He burned you, he literally burned you! He’s already healed it, but there’s still a thin, pale scar, an intentional one left wrapping around the skin at the base of your left ring finger. Like a wedding ring.

When you look close, you can make out a symbol on the back of your finger where the cross used to sit—and even though your conscious mind doesn’t recognize it, the sight of it rings out something inside your ribcage, deeper and truer than flesh and blood. It’s the devil’s mark, you think. It’s his.

“…A promise,” Overhaul says softly, and even though it’s a chilly morning, you can feel the heat of his hands on yours a long time after he vanishes back into the dark.