#in the sense of physically showing the models and how they move

[cjgladback]

[ID: The cartoonish 3D face of an anthropomorphic cactus lady with a yellow cape and large sunhat resting on her back. She is cycling through facial expressions from having both eyes and her mouth closed to open and back, with some asymmetrically mismatched timing showing her eyes and each side of her mouth are individually controlled. End ID]

Behold, the best part of character rigging (neck and neck with goofy poses before you fix automatic bone weights): doofy faces! It's been a hot second since I connected shape keys to a rig via drivers, either because I have learned the benefits of freely moveable face parts or because I haven't gotten as far as facial rigs on a relatively human face for a while. But this darlin's cute little u-shaped smile demanded the precision, especially when the animation of her face is so far down my priority list for recreation of a still image.

Therefore, stream this morning started with recalling and applying this process so that I can include facial expression in the actions once I'm back to the animation work. Then I got to improving the textures on the cactus herself--most notably the contrast between her "hair" and "skin" base colors and essentially overlining her mouth and eyes so they stay appropriately readable while closed. Not sure whether tomorrow will be about further texturing (basically none of the materials are complete, though the flat-color cape here is the most naked and taffy-like of what is modeled) OR about making the cactus spines less slapdash (they're currently an unapplied geo nodes setup that has some pop in and out when movement results in more or less surface area of a vertex color; now that I have more time and intend more smoothly animated close-ups, whatever they end up as needs to be applicable before the armature modifier). If I finish the cactus spines and add some more wobble control for her bangs, I could say I'm done with her and feel more comfortable getting a little messy with the cape rig that will have to reference her arms, spines and all.

[mononijikayu]

bed chem — nanami kento.

“Are you free next week?” Your breath hitched, caught off guard by how effortlessly he turned the tables on you. It was exactly what you had been thinking, the question that had echoed in your head. He had beaten you to it, but his tone told you this was no ordinary invitation. There was more behind that simple question—an invitation to something deeper, something physical. You raised an eyebrow, smiling to yourself, already knowing your answer. “I think I could be.”

GENRE: alternate universe - modern au;

WARNING/S: romance, love at first sight, nsfw, rated 18 and above, explicit content, kissing, making out, fingering, p to v sex, orgasm, humor, characters speaking in sexual innuendo, mention of sexual euphemisms, depiction of explicit sexual content, nanami kento is that MAN, reader really wants to have bed chem with nanami <3;

WORD COUNT: 4.8k words.

NOTE: i keep thinking about how much i wrote and how it could be a treat for the entire october in terms of kinktober but i think i realize i'll be too busy starting the 11th, so i won't be showing up to anything, so i'll just be doing all this stuff i can now and posting some in between so i can at least have something for yall, you know? also im realizing my actor sukuna series and this is a minor part of it. its such a good story!!! if you wanna read it the latest chapter is here chapter four; anyway, i hope you can feel my love through out. i'll be seeing you soon enough, though. wish me luck on my upcoming exams <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

kayu's playlist — side 1500;

YOU’RE NEVER GOING TO FORGET THIS NIGHT. And you were happy about that thought. You remember the day you met him vividly, as if it happened just yesterday. You were dressed in a sheer, ethereal gown, moving gracefully through the grand corridors of a buzzing fashion venue.

Models, designers, and staff rushed around in a whirlwind of fabric and creativity, preparing for the show. You were part of that beautiful chaos, your mind focused on the evening ahead. But then you saw him.

Nanami Kento, the famous actor.

He stood out, calm amidst the frenzy, wearing a sharp white jacket that contrasted with the hectic energy around you. His sandy-blonde hair fell neatly into place, and his tall, sturdy frame exuded a sense of quiet confidence.

You exchanged brief pleasantries—just a moment's conversation—but the connection felt palpable. His presence lingered in your thoughts long after. You can’t help it. He was just that enigmatic. He was just that awe-strikingly beautiful.

Later that evening, a friend of his reached out, suggesting the two of you connect. You think that maybe they think you guys are going to be good for each other. Or maybe you could just be friends.

Who knows? You hadn’t expected it, but before you knew it, there was a message on your phone from Nanami Kento himself. And just like that, you found yourself scrolling through his texts, your pulse quickening with every new notification.

Who's the cute guy with the white jacket and the thick accent? The thought danced in your mind, replaying your brief interaction. You wondered if you were imagining it, but something told you this connection was real.

He wasn’t just like any other guy you’ve dated. A lot about him was already an improvement, but you were sure, one hundred percent — he would be everything. Everything that you could ever want in a man. 

Maybe it was all in your head, just a fleeting crush, but you couldn't shake the feeling. You have never felt like this before.  You began to picture more than just idle conversation. You bet the two of you would have incredible chemistry—on all levels.

Your thoughts spiraled into fantasies, growing more vivid with every passing moment. You imagined him picking you up with ease, spinning you around like you were weightless, his strong hands firm but gentle. It just made sense, didn’t it? The way he looked at you, the way his words were always so calm and collected, but with an underlying intensity that pulled you in.

There was chemistry—bed chem, as you started to call it in your mind.

You saw it all clearly: the way he’d pull you close, lower you down, his voice teasing but sweet. And his hands—how they might trail over your skin with a deliberate touch, a mix of sweet and sinful. You were obsessed with the idea. He didn’t even need to say anything when you saw him, the look in his eyes was enough to spark that connection.

You imagined asking him, casually, Are you free next week? You were certain that if you met again, everything would fall into place. You’d fit together seamlessly, like two puzzle pieces made for each other. Your fantasies painted the perfect picture: soft sheets, the thermostat set just right—maybe at 69—and the two of you in sync, moving as if you’d done this a thousand times before.

You saw him later that night at the after-party, his blue eyes scanning the room until they landed on you. Your heart skipped a beat. Nanami wasn’t just an actor anymore, not just a face from the big screen or a billboard. He was real, standing right there, closing the distance between you.

As he approached, you couldn’t help but think, I bet we’d have really good bed chem.

The thought made you smile to yourself, a secret desire that hung in the air, just waiting to be fulfilled.

He moved closer, his stride confident but unhurried. The noise of the party seemed to fade into the background, the music and chatter dissolving as your attention zeroed in on him. You could feel the air between you thicken, an unspoken pull drawing you together. Nanami’s eyes never left yours, his intense gaze making it clear he hadn’t forgotten your brief encounter earlier in the day.

He stopped just a few steps away, close enough that you could see the faintest hints of amusement tugging at the corners of his lips. You exchanged a polite smile, but beneath the surface, the tension was palpable. It was as if every look, every subtle movement, was laden with meaning. Your heart raced, but you kept your composure.

“I didn’t expect to see you here.” he said, his voice smooth, with that same deep cadence you had replayed in your mind over and over again.

You offered a light laugh, something casual, but even the smallest exchange felt charged. “Fashion world is small, I guess.”

The conversation was polite, yet every word held weight. You both knew there was something more bubbling beneath the surface. And that’s when it happened—he leaned in, just a fraction, and his voice lowered, the faintest hint of something playful lacing his words.

“Are you free next week?”

Your breath hitched, caught off guard by how effortlessly he turned the tables on you. It was exactly what you had been thinking, the question that had echoed in your head. He had beaten you to it, but his tone told you this was no ordinary invitation. There was more behind that simple question—an invitation to something deeper, something physical.

You raised an eyebrow, smiling to yourself, already knowing your answer. “I think I could be.”

Nanami Kento chuckled softly, his eyes gleaming. It was a small moment, but it felt like a confirmation—like a prophecy about to be fulfilled. You both lingered in the silence for a beat longer than necessary, the electric tension between you undeniable.

As the night went on, the party flowed around you, but your attention never strayed far from him. Each glance, each word exchanged, only built on the anticipation. By the time you said your goodbyes, you were already planning out the next week in your head.

When you finally parted ways, your phone buzzed almost immediately. A message from him.

Next week, then.

You smiled, already thinking about how things would unfold. In your mind, you could see it—how he’d pick you up like it was nothing, his strength and control so effortless. You pictured the way he’d pull you close, then spin you around, always so deliberate but never rushed. The chemistry was undeniable, it was practically written in the stars. Bed chem, the kind that left no room for hesitation.

And when that moment finally came, you knew everything would fall into place, just like you imagined. The perfect rhythm, the thermostat set just right, every movement in sync.

It was only a matter of time.

The days that followed felt like a slow burn, each one stretching out as you found yourself replaying that moment over and over. The anticipation built, winding tighter with every passing thought of him. Every time your phone buzzed, your pulse quickened, hoping it was another message from Nanami, and more often than not, it was.

His texts were short, simple—never too much, but just enough to keep the flame alive. He didn’t need to say much for you to read between the lines. Each message held a certain calm confidence, like he knew exactly what he was doing, just like when you saw him at the party.

Each message was a spark, feeding the fire of your fantasies. Your mind wandered constantly, imagining every possible way the encounter could unfold. You knew it wouldn’t be rushed—it was never rushed with someone like Nanami. Everything about him was measured, thoughtful, intentional.

How’s your week?

Thinking about that conversation.

Looking forward to next week.

By the time the day finally arrived, you could feel your nerves dancing in your chest, excitement pulsing beneath your skin. You chose your outfit carefully, something that balanced elegance with subtle suggestion. You wanted to look as effortlessly composed as you imagined he would be.

When you arrived at the restaurant where he had suggested you meet, the atmosphere was warm, dimly lit, and intimate. Nanami was already there, sitting at a table near the window. He looked up as soon as you walked in, his eyes locking onto yours immediately, that same intensity you remembered from the party.

As you approached, he stood to greet you, his hand resting lightly on your back as he leaned in for a polite kiss on the cheek. His touch was brief but electric, and you felt the heat rise in your chest.

“You look stunning, darling.” he said, his voice deep and smooth, just as you remembered.

You smiled, brushing off the compliment with a modest shrug, but the way his eyes lingered told you he wasn’t just being polite. The dinner itself was a dance, every word exchanged adding to the tension that simmered between you. You talked about the show, your careers, little moments from your lives—but beneath it all, there was the unspoken promise of what was to come.

It wasn’t long before the two of you found yourselves alone, walking down the quiet city streets. The cool night air did little to cool the heat that was growing between you. His hand brushed yours as you walked, a casual but deliberate touch that sent a shiver down your spine.

Then, as if on cue, he stopped, turning to face you. His eyes held yours for a long moment, the city lights casting shadows over his sharp features.

“Should we continue this somewhere more private?” His voice was calm, but there was a subtle edge to it, the tension in his question making your breath catch.

You nodded, your heart racing as he reached for your hand, his grip firm but gentle as he led you toward his place. The walk was quiet, the air thick with anticipation. When you finally arrived, it felt like the world had slowed down, the moment you had been waiting for was finally here.

YOU WERE ASTOUNDED HOW SUAVE HIS EXISTENCE IS. The sight of his apartment took you by surprise, sleek and minimal yet warm, much like him. Everything was perfectly arranged, clean lines and subtle comfort that mirrored his understated charm. You couldn’t help but admire him, drawn in by everything he was. The more you were around him, the more you wanted—his presence, his touch, his everything.

He glanced at you, his gaze never wavering as he slipped off his jacket, hanging it neatly over the back of a chair. In an instant, he was standing before you, hands on your waist, drawing you close with a quiet, commanding energy. The world outside faded into the background, leaving only the two of you in the dimly lit room.

His lips hovered near your ear, his breath warm as he whispered, "I’ve been thinking about this all week." 

The sound of his voice sent a shiver down your spine, and before you could respond, his lips found yours. The kiss was slow at first, deliberate, as if savoring the moment. You could feel the excitement become even more palpable in you.

Each movement of his mouth felt carefully measured, like he had been imagining this for far longer than you realized. His hands moved with an easy confidence, sliding across your body, each touch making you feel as though he had memorized every inch of you.

When he lifted you, it felt seamless, effortless, as though you weighed nothing at all in his arms. He carried you to the bedroom, his strong grip both protective and possessive.

There was an undeniable chemistry between you—every brush of his skin against yours, every touch electric and charged with desire. His movements were slow, savoring the build-up, as if he had waited too long for this moment to rush through it.

Your breaths came out shallow and uneven as his lips moved from yours, down the length of your neck, leaving a burning trail in their wake. Each press of his mouth against your skin felt deliberate, purposeful, sending sparks of heat coursing through you. 

His scent filled the space between you, rich and heady, mixing with the warmth of his body as he pressed closer. Every inch of you was aware of him—the solid strength of his frame, the way his breath hitched slightly as his hands roamed over you.

Kento’s fingers grazed the curve of your waist before tightening on your hips, pulling you against him with a quiet but undeniable hunger. The sensation of his body molded so tightly to yours made your heart race, your skin tingling with anticipation. 

You bit your lip, trying to steady your breath, but it was impossible under the weight of his touch, his presence. His knee nudged between your thighs, parting them with a gentle yet insistent pressure, the friction sending a fresh wave of desire flooding through you.

"You feel so good, sweetie." he whispered, his voice low and rough, filled with want.

A soft moan slipped from your lips as his hands roamed lower, teasing the edge of your clothes before slipping beneath the fabric. His fingers dug in, just enough to make you gasp, his touch hot against your skin. The sensation of him—his rough palms gliding over your bare skin, the tension coiling between you—was intoxicating, leaving you breathless.

You felt his lips curl into a smirk against your neck, clearly pleased with the effect he was having on you. "I love hearing you like that, sweetie." he murmured, his breath warm and teasing as his mouth hovered near your ear. "Don’t hold back."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, your body arching toward him as his fingers dipped lower, exploring you with an eagerness that made you ache. You gasped, unable to stop the sound that escaped your throat as his fingers slipped inside you, moving with a skill that left you trembling.

"Oh—Kento. Oh, baby….." you whimpered, the intensity of the moment overwhelming you. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging slightly as your body pressed closer to his, desperate for more of his touch. He groaned softly in response, the sound vibrating through you.

His fingers moved inside you with purpose, every stroke calculated, every flick of his wrist sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. His thumb found the sensitive bundle of nerves that made you cry out, your hips bucking instinctively against him.

"God, you’re so responsive. I like that." he growled, his voice rough with desire. His free hand gripped your waist, holding you steady as his fingers moved faster, building a rhythm that had you teetering on the edge of control.

"I want you to come for me, sweetheart." he breathed against your ear, his voice low and commanding.

You couldn’t help it. The way he touched you, the way he knew exactly what you needed—it was too much. Your body responded without hesitation, muscles tightening as pleasure coiled deep inside you, ready to snap. His name fell from your lips like a prayer, broken and breathless, as you reached that sweet crescendo, your body trembling in his arms.

Kento didn’t want to stop, didn’t slow, as you rode the wave of pleasure. His fingers stayed inside you, coaxing every last bit of sensation from you, until you were left breathless, trembling, and utterly undone in his arms.

Kento’s fingers slowly withdrew, leaving you sensitive and aching, but he wasn’t done. His sharp gaze darkened as he looked down at you, his breath hot against your skin. He shifted, positioning himself between your thighs, and you felt a fresh rush of heat flood through you as his hands gently spread your legs wider, exposing your most sensitive, intimate places to him.

"You look incredible, slick like this." he murmured, his voice husky with desire. His eyes roamed over your body, lingering on every curve and soft line before settling on the glistening heat between your legs. The way he looked at you, so intent, so focused, made your heart race even faster.

Without a word, he lowered his head, his lips brushing the inside of your thigh with soft, teasing kisses. You shuddered beneath him, anticipation buzzing through your veins as his mouth inched closer to where you needed him most.

When his tongue finally flicked against your sensitive folds, you gasped, your back arching off the bed as pleasure shot through you. His touch was gentle at first, soft and exploratory, as if he was savoring the moment. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, sending shivers down your spine as he took his time, each lick and kiss slow and deliberate.

"Kento—" you moaned, your voice breathless and needy. His hands slid up your thighs, his fingers digging into your skin as he held you steady, his mouth working against you with a precision that drove you wild.

"Mm, s’ good." he hummed against you, the vibration of his voice sending a fresh wave of sensation through your core. His tongue swirled over your clit, slow and deliberate, before he sucked gently, and the world around you seemed to blur as pleasure bloomed deep in your belly.

"You taste so sweet. So so sweet." he growled at you, his voice low and full of hunger. He didn’t give you a moment to recover, his mouth returning to its work, tongue stroking over you in long, languid movements that left you trembling beneath him.

Your hands gripped the sheets, your body writhing against his mouth as he worked you closer to the edge. Every flick of his tongue, every soft press of his lips had you teetering on the brink, the tension coiling tighter and tighter inside you.

"Please, please." you whimpered, your hips bucking against his face. "Don’t stop, Kento—"

He growled softly in response, his hands tightening on your thighs to hold you still as he intensified his pace. His tongue moved faster, more insistently, flicking and stroking your clit with a pressure that made you cry out. You could feel yourself unraveling, your body trembling uncontrollably as he pushed you closer and closer to release.

The heat inside you built with every stroke of his tongue, every soft moan he let out against you, until you couldn’t hold back any longer. Your body tensed, your muscles tightening as the pleasure overwhelmed you, and with a final, desperate cry, you came undone, your release crashing over you in waves.

Kento could only find himself addicted in your taste, his mouth continuing to work against you, drawing out every last bit of your orgasm until you were trembling, breathless, and utterly spent beneath him. Finally, he pulled back, his lips glistening with your arousal, and he looked up at you with a satisfied, almost possessive smile.

"You’re incredible, sweetie." he whispered, his voice rough and low as he moved back up your body, his lips finding yours again in a slow, heated kiss. You could taste yourself on him, and it only made you want him more.

"Kento..." you breathed, your voice barely audible but full of want. The way you said his name made him pause, his eyes darkening with desire as they met yours.

He leaned in again, his lips hovering near your ear, his voice deep and rough. “Gonna keep making you feel good, sweetie.” 

His thumb brushed against your lower lip before claiming your mouth again in a kiss that was no longer soft or patient but filled with raw, undeniable hunger. His need for you was palpable now, every kiss, every touch pushing you both closer to the edge.

The night unraveled slowly, deliberately, as if time itself bowed to the intensity of the moment. His movements, once restrained and careful, had given way to a raw passion that filled the air with a palpable heat. The soft glow of moonlight slipping through the curtains cast fleeting shadows on his face, highlighting the quiet hunger in his eyes as he gazed down at you.

His lips, warm and persistent, traced a slow, deliberate path over the curve of your neck, sending shivers cascading down your spine. Your breath hitched as his mouth moved lower, each kiss searing your skin with a promise of what was to come. 

His fingers followed, brushing against your skin with the lightest of touches, drawing a soft gasp from you. Every time he whispered your name, his voice low and filled with desire, it felt like the room itself pulsed in response, his words sinking into your very core.

“God, you’re so beautiful, sweetie.” he murmured, his breath hot against your collarbone, his eyes dark with an intensity that made your heart race.

Your body arched beneath him, a mixture of pleasure and anticipation building with every gentle caress. He paused for a moment, hovering above you, his gaze locked with yours, the weight of his control making your pulse quicken. It was as if he could sense every thought, every want, every need—knowing exactly how to unravel you. And you, caught in the tide of his desire, could do nothing but surrender.

“Please...” you breathed, the word slipping from your lips before you could even stop yourself. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, but his eyes remained focused, intent.

His hands moved lower, his touch no longer teasing but commanding, each movement calculated to drive you closer to the edge. Your fingers tangled in the sheets, the anticipation almost unbearable as his lips brushed against your ear, sending another wave of heat through your body.

“I’ve got you, sweetie.” he whispered, his voice a dark promise that sent a jolt of desire straight through you. And then, finally, after what felt like an eternity of delicious torment, he positioned himself above you, his body pressing against yours in a way that made you ache with need. “Doin’ so good for me already, aren’t you?”

When he entered you, it felt like the culmination of everything—the tension, the desire, the quiet longing that had simmered beneath the surface for so long. A soft moan escaped your lips as he filled you completely, his movements slow and deliberate, each thrust deep and steady, leaving you breathless.

Your hands found his back, your nails digging in as you clung to him, the intensity of it all building between you like a storm ready to break. His breath was ragged now, mingling with yours in the heated air, every thrust a silent declaration of the connection that bound you together.

“Don’t stop, Kento…. Don’t…Oh—” you whispered, your voice breaking as he moved faster, his control unraveling just enough for you to feel the full force of his desire. His lips found yours again, his kiss rough and hungry, matching the rhythm of his body as you moved together, lost in the heat and the need for more.

Each movement, each breath, felt like an unspoken promise, his body telling you everything he couldn’t say aloud. In that moment, there was no space for hesitation, no room for anything but the overwhelming intensity of him, of you, of the way you fit together so perfectly.

When you finally came, it was everything you hadn’t known you needed. Kento’s name fell from your lips over and over, a soft chant as waves of pleasure washed over you, your body tightening around his. The intensity of it left you breathless, your fingers clutching him as if afraid to let go. Moments later, he followed you, his body tensing as he found his own release, his low groan sending shivers through you all over again.

For a long time, neither of you spoke, the only sound in the room the quiet, shared breaths of two people completely undone by the moment. He pulled you close, his arms wrapped around you protectively, his warmth enveloping you as you lay tangled together, the weight of what had just passed between you still lingering in the air.

Finally, he broke the silence, his voice soft but filled with satisfaction. “Well, I think you got your answer.” 

“Oh? About what?”

“We have bed chem.” He grins at you, kissing your shoulder. 

You blinked and then laughed.

You could feel your heart still racing, and looked up at him, knowing that this moment was just the beginning.

epilogue 

The sunlight filtered through the bedroom window, casting a warm glow over the rumpled sheets that barely covered your body. You stretched lazily, feeling the soft, comforting weight of the blankets and the familiar presence of Nanami beside you.

His arm was draped over your waist, his chest rising and falling steadily as he slept. The peaceful moment was too perfect to pass up, so you quietly reached for your phone, snapping a quick picture of the two of you in the soft morning light.

The sheets barely covered your bodies, your bare skin visible beneath the white fabric. The scene was intimate, cozy, and full of the quiet warmth of a morning spent wrapped in each other’s arms. You couldn’t resist adding a cheeky caption before posting it online:

“Come right on me, I mean camaraderie.”

The double entendre made you giggle quietly as you hit "post" knowing it was bound to get some playful reactions. You leaned back into the pillows, snuggling against Kento, who stirred slightly at your movement, his hand tightening around your waist.

“What are you up to?” he mumbled sleepily, his voice rough from sleep. His eyes opened just enough to catch your mischievous grin.

“Nothing… Just posting a little morning memory, darling.” you teased, unable to contain the laughter bubbling up inside you. Kento’s brow furrowed, clearly suspicious but too tired to press further.

It didn’t take long for the comments to start rolling in. Within minutes, his phone buzzed repeatedly on the nightstand. Kento could only feel himself groaning, reaching for it, and as soon as he saw the notifications lighting up the screen, his eyes widened in realization.

“You didn’t…?” His voice trailed off as he stared at the picture you had posted, the cheeky caption front and center.

You couldn’t help but burst into laughter, watching as Nanami’s expression shifted from confusion to mild horror, a faint blush creeping across his cheeks. He scrolled through the comments, and you could see the flood of teasing messages from his castmates already coming in.

@/GojoSatoru: Nanami, my man! Didn’t know you had this side to you! 😂

@/Geto Suguru: Yo, Kento…….You really kinky IRL, huh?

@/HaibaraYu: Is that what we call ‘teamwork’ now? Guess I’ve been doing it all wrong… 😏

@/IeiriShoko: Honestly? Kinda iconic. But also, never gonna let you live this down.

Kento could feel his blush deepened as he kept scrolling, his lips pressed into a thin line, clearly flustered. His hand ran through his hair in frustration, and he glanced at you with an exasperated but fond look.

“I can’t believe you posted that, sweetie.” he muttered, shaking his head as more notifications flooded in. “They’re never going to stop teasing me about this.”

You couldn’t stop giggling, leaning over to kiss his cheek, which was now bright red. “Come on, it’s cute. They’ll forget about it soon enough… maybe.”

Kento groaned again, but there was a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he pulled you closer. “You’re impossible, hm.” he said, though the warmth in his voice made it clear he wasn’t actually upset. He kissed your forehead softly, the tension in his body relaxing as he resigned himself to the teasing. “Too impossible.”

“I don’t mind being impossible if it makes you blush like this.” you teased, running your fingers through his hair, enjoying the rare sight of Kento looking flustered.

“Don’t push your luck, sweetie.” he replied, though the way his arms wrapped around you betrayed the affection behind his words. He sighed, resting his forehead against yours. “I guess I’ll have to get used to being the subject of their jokes for a while.”

You grinned, pressing a kiss to his lips. “I’ll make it up to you, promise.”

Nanami chuckled softly, the sound low and comforting. “You already have, sweetheart.” he murmured, his hand brushing a lock of hair away from your face. His eyes softened as he looked at you, the teasing forgotten as the moment between you became tender again.

“I don’t care what they say, though.” he added quietly. “All that matters is this. Us.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, the teasing moment giving way to a warmth that spread through your chest. You snuggled closer into his embrace, feeling the steady beat of his heart against yours, and smiled.

“Good. So do I.” you whispered, kissing him again, the teasing fading into the background as the two of you enjoyed the quiet intimacy of the morning.

Nanami Kento could feel his phone buzzing again, but this time, neither of you bothered to check it. Let them tease—it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the two of you, wrapped in each other’s arms, finding comfort in the simple joy of being together.

[strnilolover]

Vampire!Matt x Human!Reader Headcanons …

Vampire!Matt …

• Vampire!Matt who … loves taking late night walks with you. He’ll hold your hand as you walk side by side, pointing out constellations

• Vampire!Matt who … isn’t too big on pda. He’ll put a hand on your lower back, brushing your hair out of your face, or squeeze your hand softly to remind you he’s there. But, behind closed doors, he pulls you into his arms like he can’t get close enough.

• Vampire!Matt whose … senses are heightened. He knows when you’re upset before you even say anything and immediately starts comforting you. He’ll light candles, play your favorite song, and sit with you until you’re ready to talk.

• Vampire!Matt who … would burn the world down to keep you safe. No matter the cost, no matter the consequences, your safety is his number one priority. He’s not just protective—he’s relentless. “I’d do it all again,” he says, his voice steady but full of meaning. “For you.”

• Vampire!Matt who … is a big man on acts of service. It’s his love language, and it shows in the way he takes care of you. From cooking your favorite meal to fixing things around the house, he thrives on making your life better in any way he can.

• Vampire!Matt who … struggles with the idea of turning you. He loves you more than anything but can’t bear the thought of taking your humanity away. The topic comes up late at night, his voice heavy with emotion. “I’d rather lose you to time than destroy the person you are,” he confesses.

• Vampire!Matt who … likes to put his strength to use. Whether that be opening things for you, or moving things around or even carrying you. He’s always showing off. But, it’ll peak out most in the bedroom — if he goes to hard on you, he’ll be kissing all the places his hands left bruises.

• Vampire!Matt whose … sex-drive is HIGH. Like he might not seem all that much at first, but once he has a taste of you for the first time — he can’t get enough. He also loves to mark you up any chance he gets. MATT THE MUCH.

Human!Reader …

• Human!Reader who … refuses to see Matt as a monster. No matter how much Matt worries about scaring you, you never falter. “You’re not a monster,” you insist, cupping his face in your hands. “You’re Matt. That’s all I see.”

• Human!Reader who … loves to steal matt’s clothing. Hoodies, flannels, even his plain t-shirts—if it’s Matt’s, it’s automatically better. He pretends to be annoyed but secretly loves seeing you wrapped up in his things.

• Human!Reader whose … love language is physical touch. You’re always finding excuses to touch him — holding his hand, brushing your fingers through his hair, or leaning into him while you watch a movie. He may not be used to it, but he melts under your affection.

• Human!Reader who … loves to document your time with Matt. You take endless photos of Matt — some candid, some posed — and keep a scrapbook filled with your favorite memories. He grumbles about being your “model” but secretly loves the attention.

• Human!Reader who … playfully likes to mock Matt. “You’re such a brooding vampire stereotype,” you joke when he stares out the window. He smirks and replies, “Would you rather I sparkle?”

• Human!Reader who … loves to test Matt’s patience. As much as you love his sweet and soft side with you — you can’t help but want to rile him up and push the limits with how much you can tease him before he does something about it.

• Human!Reader who … will drag Matt along to the antique shop or put on nature walks. You love showing him all the cool trinkets you can find in the store and out in the wilderness.

• Human!Reader who … falls asleep against Matt or on Matt constantly. reading, you often find yourself dozing off against him. Matt never moves, staying perfectly still so you can rest comfortably.

a/n : here’s this cause i feel bad for not posting :(

[sydneymykah]

☆MY FASHION ICONS☆

How to turn influence into originality

I think everyone should have at least 2 - 3 different fashion icons. Whether it's an artist, model, designer, fictional character or even cartoon. It's these influences that can help build upon your own fashion sense and style. Relating and gravitating towards certain people can help us decide how we want to present ourselves to the world. Help us find our inner confidence shine through to the physical. Taking bits and pieces from other influences to make something completely your own.

This post is in three sections

1. How finding your influences can help you find your style

2. My icons and their style

3. How I use their influence to find my own original style

(Also I use fashion icon and style icon interchangeably. The basis is just someone who’s fashionable and has a style you feel inspired by)

Lets get into it

FINDING INFLUENCE

Maybe you watched a movie when you were younger and a character dawned an outfit that has stuck with you forever. A specific show or movie has stayed with you simply because of the fashion alone. You discovered that you would give anything to dress like the people you grew up seeing on your screens. To a celebrity's iconic street style or a characters impeccable fashion choices. What we naturally gravitate towards is what inevitably ends up being our main influence. Knowing what we are inspired by helps us figure out how we want to represent ourselves. Today I'm focusing on fashion and style.

If you're someone who wants to figure out what inspires you I'd suggest to go explore all genres of films and tv. Regardless the decade I bet you, you will find a movie or show that resonates with you in terms of fashion/style and aesthetics. Pinterest of course is also an amazing place to look for inspo. Especially if you already have an idea of what you want but need expanding upon it. Environment also affects inspiration. I've seen people's style and how they express themselves completely change because they moved abroad or just simply to a new city. I hope people who read this who are in an environment who cant express themselves the way they want are able to find a place for them someday. If you cant find an environment physically, I'd suggest finding one online. Twitter communities, Tumblr and discord servers pertaining to your interests can help you extremely.

Now, people might struggle to take what inspires them and make something of their own without looking like a straight up carbon copy. Not knowing how to build a style and not look like they're wearing a costume. What I've found to be helpful is to start off by noticing patterns with how your influences dress. If one is a celebrity you can probably find interviews of them talking about the style you're trying to implicate. If it's a character(s) there's a high chance there are YouTube videos and even tiktoks dissecting their style. The best part about this is that you can pick and choose what you like and what you want to try out.

That is also how you eventually find your own style through influence. You have to do things through trial and error. I know that makes people wince because they don't want to look ridiculous but it's true. The main thing you need is confidence. And if you don’t have that fake it till you make it sis. I can think of many people and celebrities who started off one way and evolved into the icons they are today. To people like Rihanna, Bella Hadid, and Sabrina Carpenter. Even with them you can see what influences their style. Rihanna (who has gone through many fashion phases) once being very heavily influenced by 80's UK British punk rock style and Americana. Bella recently being influenced by vaquero and cowgirl chic fashion because of her current cowboy boyfriend Adan Banuelos. Sabrina being very influenced by baby doll aesthetics, lingerie, and 60's style of clothing. You can see with all of their influences they're able to make it theirs. Of course they have stylists to help them(not to take away from their own creativeness) but you can still find ways to help yourself.

Even I am in the trial and error stage. Finding out what I like and what my current influences wear that I want to try too. What helps me is making mood boards and finding pieces that look similar to the ones my inspirations wear. It’s important to note that just buying statement pieces won’t help you build style because it’s harder to create different outfits with them. Basics are VITAL. So don’t overlook them when dissecting your influences. Let me show you how I dissect the patterns and fashion sense my fashion icons have and how I use these as blueprints in figuring out how I want to style myself.

MY ICONS

FRAN FINE

Played by the fabulous Fran Dresher, Fran Fine was the main character in the extremely popular and iconic sitcom of the 90's "The Nanny". Fran being a flashy girl from Flushing Queens who stumbles into a nanny job taking care of rich bachelor Maxwell Sheffield's three kids. The shows main plot is the will they won't they dynamic between Fran and Mr. Sheffield and how unconventional of a nanny Fran is.

Her unconventional yet charming nature reflects in her many iconic outfits. Many pieces being traditionally sophisticated like blazers and turtlenecks are made more flirty and tempting with mini skirts. Frans style didn't shy away from any sort of color, texture or pattern. Wearing things that range from a brick pantsuit, a rainbow sequined strap dress, tiger print blazer and mini skirt set, many bright colored fur coats, and full vinyl and leather matching sets. Her main inspo to her fashion seems to take from 60’s and mod fashion trends. Especially with her big hair and headbands being her main choice of accessory.

Frans typical silhouette would consist of some sort of turtleneck or vest. If she wore a vest it'd usually would have some sort of blouse underneath (collared or another turtleneck). Her bottoms would either be fitted pants, a mini skirt, or a mini dress. Frans signature shoe was a classic pump heel and would usually wear some sort of stocking or tights with them. (usually black) Occasionally she'd switch out the pumps for a boot that would either be reminiscent of 60's mod or just a regular heeled boot. Fran loved a matching set so typically her skirts would usually match her jackets. Her jackets typically being cropped or regular sized blazers. A lot of them being fur trimmed.

CHER

Cher is a famous musician, actress and Tv host. She was the IT girl of the 70's deemed " Goddess of Pop" and was known muse for the incredible Bob Mackie, one of my favorite fashion designers.

Cher was known for her impeccable and ground breaking style. She was unique and was never afraid to dress outside the box. Proudly showing off her stomach and wearing very risqué mesh outfits. Cher's approach to fashion was like a hybrid of bohemian, Disco and old Hollywood glamour. The main thing I think of when it comes to Cher is how she was almost always decked out in sequins and diamonds. Forever sparkling and shining in the cameras. Looking like a colorful disco ball. Cher was also known to not shy away from feathers, furs, and metallics. Considering she can technically be considered a showgirl and had her own popular show filled with musical numbers it makes sense for her to wear that sort of fashion.

Cher's classic silhouette was usually some sort of form fitting, skin showing dress or two piece. She would start off covered in some sort of shawl or jacket that was usually fur or covered in feathers. Then she would reveal her outfit. Typically the outfit would show some a lot of skin, usually her stomach, chest and arms. She was almost aways wearing cross body dresses and tops. a top that would wrap around Chers chest but still show off her core and arms. If Cher wasn't wearing a dress with this type of top she was wearing flared disco pants/Bell bottoms. Similar to Fran, Cher never strayed from interesting patterns and designs. Both very flashy and fashion forward women who knew how to light up a room with just their style alone.

JEM

Jem, from the 80’s cartoon "Jem and the Holograms" is the lead singer of her pop rock band of the same name. Not only that but she’s also secretly Jerrica Benton, the groups manager and owner of her late father's record label starlight music. Jem's 80's fashion can only be described as truly outrageous along with her big pink hair.

Jem of the Holograms was a unique show not only for its premise but because the main cast almost always had a new outfit every episode. Jem didn’t have a consistent silhouette but her outfits were adjacent or the inverse to her alter self. Jerrica being more conservative and covered while jem was more flashy and glamourous. Like a rock star should. One thing consistent with jem were her colors. Pink being her iconic color along with purple, light blue, fuchsia, and yellow.

Jem wore everything from pant suits, bodycon dresses, ball gowns, evening gowns, trench coats, matching sets, and bodysuits. All with 80’s trends like shoulder pads, fingerless gloves, popped collars, patterns like polka dots, layered necklaces, and mini skirts (one reminiscent of tutus artists like Cyndi Lauper and Madonna would wear) The one accessory that stays consistent with her is her gem star earrings and if you notice in the show are the bands symbol. In many of her outfits she dawns a star shape or pattern

*Note that not just Jem inspires my fashion tastes in the show but other characters as well. The other person inspiring me second to her is her antagonist Pizzazz who I've opted as my alter ego. especially considering Jem wears pink and Pizzazz wears green, (opposite colors)

CREATING YOUR OWN STYLE

If it’s not obvious based off the three examples I gave, I like dressing like the brightest thing in the room. The star. The showgirl. The main character of you will. I like to be dressed up even if I’m the only one doing so. So naturally I gravitate to people (or characters) who dress like that. Showgirls like Lola Falana and Josephine Baker inspire me too. Now what I do is take the inspirations and make a mood board. You might've seen my "The Vibe I Bring to the Function" post. That is one example. I've created many moldboards of the type of style I want to have. By taking those influences I notice the similarities between them then make a base line. Here's what I've noticed with mine:

Sequins and rhinestones

Feathers and fur

Leather/Vinyl

Figure hugging

Skin showing

Bodysuits

Turtlenecks

Fitted Blazers/Suits

Flared pants/Bell Bottoms

Matching skirt/pants and jacket sets

Animal Print

Bold Prints/Patterns

Cross body/Halter tops

Bold and bright colors

Then I take this andattribute it to what I know looks good on me. Like certain accessories. for example headbands and bamboo hoops (usually in gold). Speaking of you should also learn your colors. Coincidentally Jems colors are actually some of mine. Especially the color pink. But like I said above trial and error is how you soon figure out what works for you and what doesn't. I used to have a romper body suit once that was baggy with spaghetti straps. The pants were hemmed with elastic so it looked like sweatpants… That's when I realized that if I wanna wear a bodysuit it looks better if its form fitting and flared at the leg lol. Asking people what looks good on you helps a lot too. A lot of the stuff I figured out looks good on me is because I consulted some good friends. When it comes to my environment I'm in an astrology discord chat with some close friends and long story short I'm associated with peacocks so I consider that into my style as well. I'm also from the south so southern inspired outfits also intrigue me. I take this all and experiment with it. I currently have a bunch of animal prints in my close to a peacock corset to an orange velvet bellbottoms. This is only the beginning.

At the end of it all it comes down to experimenting, finding what looks good and realizing that what you gravitate towards. Learning to style yourself is as easy as looking up the basics on YouTube and building on from there. Your icons in fashion will help you get to the direction you want and one day you’ll see how much you’ve developed.

Also ALWAYS remember that you’re in charge here. You can change whenever and whatever you want. You don’t have to find your style and stick with it forever. Like I mentioned before Rihanna has been through multiple different fashion phases, we’re seeing the same with Doja cat as well. Your influences now can be completely different later. Whether it’s your environment or tastes that change. Whatever you find in life that influences you. So today I might be dressing like a 70's showgirl the next a man-eater vampire. Still me at the end of the day. And whoever your icons are, or whatever your inspired by at the end of it all should be reflection of how you want to express yourself.

✧─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Xoxo, Sydney Mykah -☆

[trashogram]

Imagine if Stolas moved silently yet delicately all the time or if when he walked among imps there was emphasis on them running out from under his sharp clawed feet and long long legs? If there were more shots of Stolas being looked up at from Blitzo’s POV, which was also shared with the audience?

Or imagine that Alastor never physically shows anger toward others for insulting him or trying to get under his skin? He is ever the smiling observer, enjoying free entertainment without having to lift a finger or get emotionally involved to the point of cursing just like everyone else?

What if the Angels and Exterminators from Heaven were incredibly serious and dignified at all times? As a contrast to the raucousness of Hell? They’re like stone pillars that you feel as if you can never get through to and find a heart inside?

What if Charlie leaned more into being an incredibly sensitive crybaby type? Or she was more motherly and saw potential residents at the hotel like helpless children who need a guiding hand?

What if one of the Vees had an entirely different energy compared to the other two? A way to balance them out? Like if Valentino was much smoother and lulled his victims into false senses of security, treating them all like special lovers, so when he does snap, it’s genuinely terrifying and unexpected?

Or maybe Vox is incredibly fast-talking bc he’s always moving, always receiving input and new information via electronics everywhere? If he was more neurotic and could turn on the confidence he exudes onscreen while off he’s a nervous wreck?

Velvette was the one who got so viciously angry or petty or bitter that she had a habit of killing her own models and needed replacements all the time bc of her own actions? Models themselves are like fast fashion? Maybe she makes puns about how cutthroat her business is or something too? Idk.

What if they weren’t all zany? What if there were differences in their behaviors beyond what we are told? You could show this in how they walk, how they talk, how they handle problems, how they view other characters.

[mamayan]

Psp psp 👀 genya thirsts please? 🤲

Nonnie I’m literally full of them of course— I personally see Genya as a switch so we’ll be playing around with that here (even though I adore him as a submissive too).

Genya Shinazugawa Thirsts ★彡

cw: NSFW • Fluff • Genya HC • A lil angst • GN! Reader • Praise Kink • Suggestive Themes • Oral mentioned • Switch! Genya (not really Dom, more pleasure top at best tbh) • Slightly Top!/Switch! Reader

Genya isn’t shy in the traditional sense. He’s not afraid of being the one to confess his love first, or even being rejected.

Problem is, he expects to be rejected. He’s understanding of it even. His own perception of self worth revolves around his ability to be useful, and while he’s proud to call himself a Demon Slayer, he finds himself lacking as a man a lot of the time.

He looks up to Sanemi and adores him a great deal, but doesn’t use him as a role model for love and expressing it. Instead he looks at Gyomei, a gentle and pious man who gives advice like “write a love poem from the depths of your heart.”

So when Genya confesses and he’s not rejected? He’s the sort to follow advice given to the letter, which makes for comically awkward and tender approaches.

Genya will present you with flowers, carefully arranged, but he knows nothing of flowers, so you’ll be sneezing immediately. They’re super pollen filled and smell obnoxious, but your heart will be full from the thought and effort alone. He apologizes profusely. Then will come the love letters, but as a Shinazugawa, the words of love will boarder on threats. “My heart burns when I see you, so much love fills me that I feel it may be the end for me in your presence.” You’ll wonder if he’s joking or has a heart condition. He knows he’s got a mean and scary looking face, many have told him so, and to remedy that… he will even wear makeup to make himself look less scary! (This may have been pointed out by Inosuke, his heart in the right place but the end results more for humor than anything). It’s too late by the time Tanjiro comes to rescue his friend, you’re in tears laughing at the clown his friends turned him into. It works on making him less scary to you though—

He’ll relax eventually, but he’s stiff and terrified of making even the smallest mistake… and the end result of that is making tons of mistakes. Once he realizes he can truly be himself, he’s the sweetest most devoted man you could ask for. He’s less prickly than his older brother, more ready to fall head first into the love jar with you. He’s a sap, truly seeing you as an angel who can do no wrong.

When it comes to being physical, he loves pda. Except, he likes it most when you show it. He’s constantly being rejected publicly or privately by his dearest elder brother, so when you show claim over him? It makes him ecstatic! Throw an arm around his waist, hold his hand, hug him, kiss him even. Show the world he belongs to you. It makes him melt into a puddle. He’ll even get a little smug if you do it in front of his friends, smirking even as his face goes molten red. He’ll pass away if you sit on his lap though, be careful of his weak heart. Tough exterior doesn’t translate to inside unfortunately.

Genya is a gentleman despite his rough appearance, he’s waiting on you to make all the first moves. He’s asking permission and consent constantly thereafter, and he’s very keen on your body language. You’ll have to ignore his body language when he tells you to, because despite his wishes he tenses up and freezes sometimes when he gets embarrassed. It takes a little for him to relax after that happens, just keep kissing him please, he’ll beg if he has to.

That’s how it’s like with deeper intimacy too, Genya becomes whiny and shy, stuttering and a bit foolish. He’s just desperate for you, make no mistake about it. He’s got good control though, holding still when you tell him, being very good for you. Use him for your pleasure, he really does insist. Genya’s favorite positions are any he can see you in, more specifically when you ride him.

He derives pleasure from you being pleased, so with oral he prefers to give rather than receive. Not that he doesn’t like receiving, your mouth on his cock leaves him a drooling mess, but Genya can find his end just by giving you head. Hearing you moan and cry for him makes him delirious with happiness, so use his Mohawk like a handle and hold on tight.

While Genya is giver, he does have a few triggers which set off a more dominant side of him. He can’t help himself honestly… usually it’s jealously. If someone else is flirting with you it riles him up. He gets more brash and mean, not towards you of course, but he does try and fight them quite readily. It leaves him insecure after too, afraid you’ll see his flaws and weakness and leave him.

So when you don’t, and when you comfort him, he just needs you.

Whining into your mouth how much he loves you, all while his hips pound you into the bed and you cum again. He’s fucking you stupid and not even on purpose, he’s just overcome with emotion he needs to let out, and what better way than to make love to you? Even if that love making turns into a sloppy fucking with your cute face pressed down and hips yanked high so he can kiss you inside a little deeper. He’s crying your name while he fills you up, and he really can’t help how his cock stays hard even after, thrusting again inside you soon after while you mewl and try to crawl away from all the pleasure and overstimulation.

He’s yanking you easily back onto his cock, head thrown back as he mindlessly babbles praises for you. “Ah fuck—so good on my cock, make me feel so fuckin’ good—l-love you, I love you—!” You’re too fucked out to do much else but cum for him, eyes watery and helpless as he shows you how much he loves you. Enjoy the stamina of Genya Shinazugawa, he’s got endless energy. He’ll fuck you till he’s shooting blanks.

He’s so sweet after too, kissing and holding you, profusely apologizing of course because you passed out eventually, and thanking you too for making him feel so good. He’s running around heating up a bath, bringing you sweets or whatever you crave. He goes right back to your sweet ‘Nya once he’s secure in his heart again.

Feel free to take revenge after too. He won’t admit it until he’s denied his fourth or fifth orgasm, but he adores when you take charge and top him. Play away to your heart’s desire, Genya is able to take all you give him, like the good boy he is. Panting like a dog after you curb his orgasm again, his body tied up and spread for you to do whatever you please. He’ll cry, sob even, for release. Begging his master for mercy, while you coo and tease him. “Poor puppy, what’s wrong hm? I thought you loved everything I do.” You have him there, because he’ll admit his deepest secrets like this. “I-I do! I love it! T-tease me more, please, master, m-make a mess of me,” he’s adorable like this, obedient and cute all for you. He’ll probably want to die a little if you just leave him like that too, but he’s so cute, you’ll find it hard to just walk away— unless it’s a punishment of course.

Genya is open to most any kink you might have… as long as it doesn’t hurt you. He’s fine if the pain is directed at him, he can take it after all, but he won’t do any breath play, no tight bondage, no whips or chains for you unless you’re the one wielding them, and of course no sharing you. Genya would rather tear someone’s eyes out and light them on fire than let them even see you naked. It makes him feral and enraged immediately. However, the thought of being seen with you doing something to him, makes him wildly aroused.

Genya would never bring it up in a regular conversation, but he’s got a small exhibition kink. If he were the one to been seen tied up and naked with you playing with him? He may just cum immediately. It ties into you claiming him too, showing how much he is to you, who he belongs to.

Genya also has a praise kink. It works both ways too, he wants to be praised and praise you too. “Such a good boy Genya, my sweet love, filling me up so good,” his eyes are rolling back, hips stuttering as he begs to cum. “Y-you feel so good—fuck, tight—wanna be inside you forever, feel you wrapped a-around my cock like this till I die—!” He’s losing control when you cum.

Overall Genya is a top tier lover and golden find. He’s loyal, devoted, and filled with adoration to shower on you.

Dividers/@cafekitsune

[bahrtofane]

bruised knuckles

 Jude x gender neutral!reader 

While it’s not that surprising that a last minute party invite leads to a fight, Jude carrying you out was a little bit of an overkill 

Word count - 1.5K+ 

Watch it - physical fight, pretentious male character, bruised knuckles mentioned like once. i am so unserious for writing this yall

—————

“That doesn’t make any sense though. “ You scoff idly playing with the rings adorning your fingers. Most gifts from Jude. 

Speaking of, He sits next to you on a sleek black couch. The both of you got dragged away to some party by his teammates on what could’ve been a lazy weekend at home. He got a call way too early than what was socially acceptable on a weekend, (it was 10 am), and was begged to come along. You were already getting up groaning at the whining coming from his phone. Blame it on being half asleep or unaware but you both mumbled a promise to be there and went back to bed. 

So here you are at a party hosted by god knows who in a now packed hotel, god knows where.

You know Jude doesn't like going to these. He calls them a poor excuse to show off and boost egos. You agree, it's all a ruse to see who can drop the most on champagne or bring the model with the most followers home. All just to have pixelated pictures of yourself blasted on social media 

You couldn’t even call it a party to be honest, there’s a crowd jumbling together in an attempt to dance and music blaring from somewhere. It's more of a bad linkedin meetup. Dim lighting flickering poorly and cups strewn carelessly on the floor. It’s lame and you can’t wait to leave. His teammates that dragged the two of you here have long since abandoned the two of you to do.., actually you have no idea what any of them are here for, nor do you care. 

You just continue to sip on your water and try to keep yourself entertained. It's not going very well. 

The guy you're in conversation with sits on an identical couch across from you rolls his eyes, “Of course you don’t understand. I don’t expect you to understand the complexity of such a topic. “

Judes been pretty silent this whole time, watching the exchange. He understands you prefer to handle things yourself and respects that fully. He won’t take that away just to tell someone off. Though the second you ask he doesn't have a problem getting in anyone's face. 

Now his hand moves to your thigh gently squeezing it, a warning to keep things in check for the night. He knows that you can get into more trouble than you care for sometimes. Spurring into action faster than you can actually process what you're doing. 

You dont want to give him anymore bad press but holy fuck is this guy youre talking to an ass hole. You don't even know how he spotted you in the almost pitch black room. He smiled and asked for a picture with the two of you, and had gotten agitated when you declined. 

“At least give me conversation.” He pleaded.

And so here you are. You regretted the choice about 20 minutes ago. 

Your eyes narrow as you clench your teeth. “Listen I don't care for pretty arguments on topics that are in my jurisdiction ”

The man, who’s name you long forgot, just shakes his head and takes a long drink from his red solo cup. 

“I seriously doubt that. You dress like that and expect anyone to take you seriously like come on. “ He snickers. 

Jude tenses next to you and you try your best to calm the both of you down. Jude isn't one to start fights per say but he's not 6’1 (give or take) for nothing. Reputation be damned. 

You breathe deeply trying to resist the urge to beat his ass right then and there. The cheap laser lights only make your head hurt. Jude rubs circles on your thigh, you settle for a quick response instead. 

“What I wear doesn’t mean shit. I look good. What the fuck you have going for you? “ 

“A diploma ?? I don’t think you have one of those do you.”

Your patience is wearing thin, knee bobbing up and down harshly as you try and focus your attention away from him.

Jude stands, gently nudging your shoulder. It's time to leave. And you agree. No worth entertaining this any longer.

Just as you stand, taking Judes outstretched arm with a smile, setting your cup down on the table.  You get one last retort that truly sends you reeling. 

“Oh yeah walk away,” he begins, using his cup to point at you both. When you dont reply he chooses to get up, following you around the table and back into the dance floor. 

“Let the money maker drag you away,” He yells, grabbing into your arm and yanking it back it almost knocks you off your feet“ So worthless compared to him you don't-”

You don’t let the man finish, rushing from your seat to slam him onto the floor. His drink splashes on your chest as you meet the slippery brown hardwood with a loud thud. Your body jerks with heavy force, ears ringing, but you don’t let up. Trapping his legs under your weight, one arm forcing his hands down while the other lands blows into his face. A crowd has gathered, you know that much, the bass that’s been shaking the floor has stopped as people are clamoring around to get a better look. 

That all fades in the next few moments, passing in a blur as the man under you tries desperately to get up with no avail. You're clawing at whatever you can reach, tufts of his hair in between your fists while he yells so harshly you think his voice is about to give out. 

He manages to land a kick haphazardly to your lower stomach, which makes you groan just enough for your grip to loosen and for him to begin to slip away.

Just as you get a good grip on him again you're lifted on the ground watching him skimper away, heaving deep breaths as he grips a couch arm rest. You thrash trying to slip away from the arms but you're caught all too soon. You're yelling at the man, spitting venom. Though the exact words are less clear at this point. 

When you walk out from the blaring lights, you have half the mind to realize you're in a familiar set of arms. Wrapped around to keep you steady, swinging you over their shoulders. Jude. 

The adrenaline rushes through you, blurring the party and its noise out of focus. You do realize you're heading down stairs and outside, the cool night air like a hotel AC on summer vacation, a little bit of an overkill. But it does good to bring you back to reality. 

“You're going to get quite the reputation if you keep this up. “ He sighs, amusement in his voice. 

You have half the mind to respond with a slap to his back. “Yeah well next time bitches need to know not to try me. A reputation wouldn’t even be that bad for me. Might be bad for you“ 

He pats your back gently and continues down the curb, softly setting you down when you reach your car. You lean against the passenger door, wiping the sweat off your face and checking for any major damage across your body. There are none, just bruising on your knuckles. Dude couldn’t even get one proper hit in. The aftermath of your actions sets in and you groan, rubbing your temples. 

Jude gives you a small smile, gently taking your hand in his. You look at him fondly, if it weren’t for him you really don’t know what you would do at this point.

“I'm sorry. This is going to be all over twitter in an hour fuck.” You apologize. 

“He deserved it. Doesn't matter what they say they weren't there.”

You shake your head, “i need to do better, this is just gonna come back to you. I guarantee you everyone was recording.”

“They can think and do what they want.”

“Jude…”

“No more talk of that. Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” taking your hands and giving then a once over.

“No baby. Im fine.”

“Thank god.”

“I'm really really sorry, love.” you mutter.

He fixes your outfit, gentle tucking and rearranging the fabric back into place. “I told you baby, it's really fine. He was disrespectful and passed the limit.”

“Do you think he'll press charges?”

“I'm not sure. But for now dont worry okay? I got you. He touches you first anyway”

“Okay,” you breath out. 

“Eduardo’s getting your stuff, he’s gonna be here in a sec. “ He tells you softly. 

You nod your head and lean onto his shoulder, “The carrying me out was a little bit of an overkill babe.” you play with the buttons on his shirt. Trying to find at least a little light in the situation. 

He snorts, “if I didn’t you would’ve mauled the guy.” 

You shrug in response. Maybe you should lay off parties for a while if they keep ending like this. 

[charlie-shmarlie]

▪︎Behind Closed Doors (David 8 x fem reader)

Quick oneshot in which Reader and David share a secret relationship of sorts. Fluffy nonsense ensues <3

This is my first time writing for David, so I apologize if the way I depict him isn't accurate :')

Warnings: none really, reader miiight be a little touch starved, fluff

Word count: 1,998

---------------------🌑🪐🧬

Not everything is always as it seems. In many cases, as we walk through life, we tend to only experience things on the surface level. Not bothering to pause and allow our curiosity to explore further and deeper. We tend to observe and then simply move on without ever really knowing much more than what is easily displayed for the naked eye.

The same can be equally true for people as well.

__________ ☆

The time was at 2200 hours, meaning it was only 10:00pm or so. The night was still young. The air held a sense of peace and warmth that hung all around the young woman's quarters. Filling in any dead space and devouring the coldness that used to reside therein.

Quiet spread throughout. The only noise that could be heard was the sound of occasional movement and muttered chatter. And the constant low hum of the ship gliding through space with ease. A muffled rumble the crew had become so used to hearing.

Through the white, dimmed lights, a certain scene played out. One that was not only shocking but also quite forbidden.

A man and a woman stood intimately close together. The male's hands were clasped behind his back in a rather professional manner that might seem out of place in this interaction. His body was bent down just slightly so that the woman could properly reach him without struggle. And with a touch so gentle, she cupped the sides of his face with her palms and pressed slow, sugary-sweet pecks all about his face. His cheeks, his jawline, the corners of his mouth. Anywhere that felt right.

But whatever could be wrong with this? Aren't these just the interactions of a loving couple who are simply enjoying each other's presence in private? Well, it's much more difficult than that.

You see, the woman is a young scientist, Dr. Y/n L/n, and part of the Prometheus crew. And yes, while the man is also a fellow member, his roles can vary. And he is not simply just a 'man'. Most would argue that he's not a man at all. Which wouldn't necessarily be a lie. He's of a mechanical nature. An artificial human, if you will. Specifically, a synthetic. The David 8 model, to be exact. Although most refer to him as just David, giving him even more false humanity than he was already programmed with.

Now, I will not go into how this relationship began, or how it was even possible in the first place, because not even I truly know, which is an undeniable showing of just how well they kept such a secret.

David's lips were curled into a faint, fond smile as he stared down at the human, following her every move with his intense blue gaze. The warm sensation of her organic touch against his cold, artificial skin was unlike any other he had ever known.

She continued to hold him, smiling softly in between each kiss. Her expression held nothing but genuine love for the synthetic. (E/c) eyes glowing with warmth and tenderness as she closely admired him.

One might find it odd that she was the only one showing affection, but don't be fooled. For the two, this was the norm.

David isn't usually one for practicing physical intimacy. It's not that he doesn't enjoy it, but more that he doesn't possess the ability to feel the need to engage in it. Occasionally, he will test out very small, simple acts he learns from some of the films he watches. Such as reaching out for her hand or maybe placing a hand on her shoulder but never desires to do much of anything more. So, Y/n doesn't expect it from him.

His 'love language', if you could call it that, rather lies within the time he spends with her. His affections are incredibly subtle, and if one didn't search for them, they would never notice. But they are there regardless. Hidden faintly within his expressions and the undertones of his words, like a secret language only she can read.

However, on the other hand, when it comes to him being the recipient of physical affection. That is a different story.

He had come to deeply crave the sweet, innocent touch of the young woman. The way she would lay out every bit of her care for him and put it on display whenever they were alone. It was always clear in the way she held onto him, like he might disappear if she were to let go. And in the way she spoke so kindly to him, always ignoring the fact that he isn't a 'real person.'

He understood just how profound her love was for him. Though he could never reciprocate the feeling, as it is an exclusively human one. An emotion he can never possess. Yet despite this, he, also felt intensely about her.

It was a different kind of intensity. One that he wrestled with himself to fully comprehend. But it was the closest thing he could relate to that elusive emotion. It was like a puzzle piece stuffed into the wrong picture. It didn't fit quite right, and it looked rather strange. Yet, it appeared just similar enough to work. And that was enough for both of them.

Y/n's lips grazed over the smooth surface of David's flawless complexion. Pressing yet another delicate kiss to the top of his cheekbone.

"You're at your most affectionate tonight, Dr. L/n" He observed plainly. His tone shifting subtly and holding a certain sense of playfulness when addressing her by the professional title. His eyes never once straying from hers.

She suppressed an airy giggle. Pulling back a bit, enough to directly meet his eyes, she suggested,

"Sorry, would you like me to stop for now?" her voice hushed, yet steady, still close enough that the warmth of her gentle breaths fanned his face. Hand sliding down to his neck.

His gaze trailed down to her lips as she spoke before gradually reuniting with her e/c pools once again. Silently analyzing her every blink, dart, breath, and quiet shifting from top to bottom. His system processing and storing the information away in his memory bank while generating an appropriate response within an instant.

"Not at all," he assured, "By all means, please, continue with your..." his words died out for a few seconds. Creating a purposeful tension. A subtle hint of amusement tugging at the corners of his lips, transforming his smile into a light smirk. His hands remained clasped behind his back as he stood unnaturally still. However, the way he looked down at her felt as though a pair of strong arms had already encircled her smaller form.

"...Human displays of affection." he finished. Satisfied with the light, rosy hue that tinted her cheeks. 

Her hands traveled down to meet the tops of his firm shoulders. The lifeless chill of his artificial skin seeped through the soft fabric of his plain, grey t-shirt, greeting her contrasting palms. A stark reminder of just who, and what, exactly she had fallen so hard for. Odd as it may seem, the reminder only rallied up sudden swarms of butterflies in her stomach and a cozy feeling deep in her chest. Something she would experience often when in the android's presence.

She gingerly dug her fingers into his skin in a mindless and calming repetitive motion, letting out a sigh of contentment. Bringing more comfort to herself than to him, though the act didn't go unappreciated. He could feel the gentle vibrations of a hum replying from within her chest against his sensors as she leaned the side of her head into his frame.

"I wish you didn't have to leave tonight," she whispered, momentarily closing her lids and listening to the consistent low whirr of his internal mechanics.

His eyes scanned over her every feature meticulously. Taking note of how calm and at peace she appeared to be. How her body seemed to practically melt into his. How her long lashes fluttered when she brought her eyes up to meet his again. And how her beautiful h/c hair fell all around her face, framing it perfectly in the warmth of the dim lights. Strands catching themselves on his shirt and clinging relentlessly, similarly to the human standing before him.

He stared back at her with endearment. Committing the sight of her like this to memory.

"As do I. Although, I'm afraid suspicions may be raised if I am absent for too long," he pointed out.

"Yeah, I know," she sighed again, knowing it was a stretch but still ever hopeful.

She tried to come up with safe scenarios and excuses to make it work in her head, but deep down she recognized that it would be a bad idea that would likely only lead to trouble in the long run. There would be plenty of chances to get caught or even just draw unwanted attention, and things could get messy in a hurry if even one person began to wonder about the relationship between the human and the android. And that was something neither of them could afford.

Soon enough, they both came to an agreement that David would stay with her until she was ready for bed. Then, he would leave to return to his duties and studies aboard the ship. 

He watched with interest as she went about her nightly rituals. Waiting patiently for her outside of the small bathroom every crew member had attached to their living space while she changed into some comfortable clothes. Then, re-emerging wearing something so simple as a plain, oversized, white t-shirt and a pair of dark blue shorts.

As she sat down in front of the mirror on her vanity, she got lost in the mundane task of brushing out her hair and wiping off makeup. Not knowing just how intensely a certain someone observed her from behind. Taking in her every movement and expression she made. 

His head tilted slightly. Gaze latching onto everything she did as if studying some undiscovered ethereal creature. From the very first time he had laid eyes on her, lying blissfully unconscious in her cryogenic state, he found himself rather captivated. Her appearance bringing him a sense of something like pleasure that unknowingly drove him to want to learn more about her. Understand her. Be near her.

He could only compare her charm to that of an ancient oil painting. So pleasant to look at on the surface with many layers of complexities hidden underneath. So much yet to explore and discover and contemplate. 

Once she had finished, she returned to the synthetic. Rising up on the ends of her toes and leaving one last lingering kiss on his cheek; a sort of bittersweet gesture to say: 'goodnight.'

"Maybe someday, when this is all over, we won't have to do this," she wondered out loud. A twinge of uncertainty marring her hopeful expression. Her thumb lightly caressing his skin, hesitating to pull away.

It was a pleasant idea; the thought of them having something of a life together. Completely unrealistic, yes, but pleasant, nonetheless.

Her heart jumped when two hands came to grip the tops of her arms. Holding her carefully in place. The rare contact of his fingers sent a shiver down her spine. There were only a few seconds of silence until he slowly leaned in and planted a kiss against her forehead, so light and so careful that she barely even felt the sensation of his cool lips tenderly brushing her hairline.

He remained close. His voice lower than before as he muttered softly over her skin,

"Perhaps."

[galahadwilder]

Ways of Grieving

Warning: Canon non-compliance, Major Character Death, Suicide.

_

When Nathalie finally passed, after years of battling the damage the Peacock had done to her body, Adrien felt nothing.

He hadn't cried when her hand, entwined with his, had lost all its strength, the muscles slack. Like a dead fish, he'd thought. Or Lila trying to show real human emotion.

When the light went out of her eyes, he'd felt nothing. She was there, and then she was not. The body was Nathalie, and now it was not. It was a body. A body that had once been there closest thing he'd had to a parent for seven years, and now it was just. Meat.

That's all his father had ever treated her as anyway. Now she matched.

What a horrible thing to think.

So why couldn't he stop thinking it?

The hospital had been cold when he walked in. It may have still been cold. He couldn't tell. He couldn't feel anything, except, maybe, guilt. Guilt that he couldn't offer any tears to the woman who'd raised him. Guilt that he had nothing for her in his chest except an empty, dead feeling.

Marinette, of course, was inconsolable. She'd been sure that the cure was in the Grimoire somewhere, but translating had been long and difficult work—it had been written over hundreds of years, with linguistic drift and different cyphers building up into a monstrous decoding project that she'd only gotten halfway through. She'd prioritized any page that seemed to reference the Peacock, or healing, or Miraculous damage, but she hadn't found an answer and she'd run out of time.

She sobbed into his chest, into his shoulder, and he thought of how odd it was that the girl he loved, who'd barely known Nathalie as anything other than an obstacle between herself and him and then as a weak and dying woman, would need to be comforted by him over the passing of someone she'd barely known, while he couldn't even bring himself to feel... much of anything. No relief that she was free of her suffering. No sense of loss. Perversely, he would have preferred joy to this... nothing.

He felt the way he did when Chloé used to kiss him, or when he'd modeled alongside Lila—like he wasn't properly in his body. Like all the chemicals and meat and physical reactions in his neurons, his muscles, his skin belonged to someone else, and he was just watching from next to himself. Watching a statue.

_

He went through the next two days the same. He didn't bother to shower, or to change his clothes, not even to go to bed. He barely ate, because he couldn't find it in himself to feel hungry. He didn't expect Nathalie around every corner, the way some people described—this was his apartment, not the mansion, and she'd never been here. She'd moved to the hospital full-time before he'd moved out. So there was no expectation of her arrival.

Marinette called him seven times and texted him thirty-six. He let the phone ring. Didn't read the texts. He was barely aware of time passing, of the days blending into nights and the nights blending into days. He slept when he slept. He awoke when he awoke. Things were what they were.

He wasn't sure how much sleep he'd had when the splitting sound of his phone in his ear had wrenched him out of dead and dreamless sleep. Blearily, he looked at caller ID, and realized it wasn't Marinette calling him. La Santé, the contact name said. His father's prison.

The public contact was apologetic, almost pleading for some kind of forgiveness. He couldn't understand why, until she explained the situation.

Gabriel had heard about Nathalie, she told him. The wardens found him the next morning hanging from the top bunk with his own bedsheets expertly tied around his broken neck.

She'd been so broken when she told him. There'd been a note, she said. He could come down to read it whenever he was ready.

Adrien thanked her with a hollow voice, let her know he wasn't sure when he'd be able to come by, and then hung up the phone.

Then, lying on his bed and staring up at the Marinette-pink ceiling, he felt something inside him shatter.

Pain lanced through his entire body, burning and tight and angry. He turned to the side, tucked his knees into his chest, and sobbed. Tears came to his eyes, slowly at first, then in a river that wouldn't stop. Snot flowed from his nose as freely as the saltwater from his eyes. He held himself together as best he could with his arms, his shivering form feeling like someone had scooped something out of him like an ice cream bucket. Like his ribs, his heart, had been careless torn from his chest and he'd been left open and raw and bleeding.

He couldn't stop crying. He couldn't stop the wave of despair that washed over him, the black tide drowning his thoughts and leaving him unable to breathe between sobs.

Why? Why could he cry for Gabriel, a man who had never loved him and who he'd given up on loving years ago, and not Nathalie? Not the woman who'd shown him care when he'd given up on expecting it? Why did fucking Gabriel get his tears? Bastard fuck of a father, the man who'd murdered him again and again and again, even after finding out it was his own son he was killing. The man who'd nearly ruined Marinette's life with his obsession and spite—left her still unable to enter a room without marking the exits and any objects she could use as Rube-Goldberg weapons. Left him with this deep and aching sense that he the most Adrien could do to be loved was die.

He hated him so much. Not just for what he'd stolen from Adrien, from Marinette, from Nathalie, but because he'd taken the grief that had belonged to her. The woman who'd been his stepmother in all but name, versus the man who'd only ever been his father in name. Why could he grieve the one but not the other?

It was good that he was dead. It was good that he was gone. So why did Adrien feel so empty over it?

_

He didn't tell Marinette about it. It consumed his waking days—how thinking about Nathalie emptied him out, while thinking about his father filled him with grief and rage. He begged off patrols, rejected her calls. He was a monster, for grieving wrong. For grieving a man who'd torn him apart. Literally, on some occasions.

Still, Marinette had his apartment key, and she couldn't be avoided forever.

He wasn't sure how many days had passed since Nathalie slipped away in his hand, how many days had passed since his fucking bastard of a father had shoved one last burden onto him and then escaped the consequences forever. Still, his stomach dropped when he heard Marinette's key turn in the front door.

"Kitty?" she called. "Are you okay?"

"Kid hasn't moved in a week," he heard Plagg say from the front hallway. "I'm not even sure he knows I'm talking. He won't respond to anything. He's not even eating."

"Where is he?" Marinette asked, her voice trembling.

"Bed."

The door to his bedroom creaked open. "Kitty?"

He didn't want to see her. He buried his head under the pillow and pretended she wasn't there.

She sat down on the side of his bed, the mattress deforming under her weight. "Adrien, please. I'm here." Her hand tried to press on his shoulder, to massage, and he twisted away from her touch.

"Adrien..." she murmured, her voice so soft and full of concern and he couldn't stand it, he couldn't fucking—he couldn't—

"I couldn't fucking cry for her," he snaps, still facing the wall away from her. "I felt—I felt—nothing. And then—and then—he—and I just..."

He turns over to look at her through blurry eyes. "Why does he get my tears when I can't—I can't—I can't feel anything for her?"

Marinette covers her mouth in shock. "Adrien?"

"When he died, I just... I broke, okay? I—everything hit me at once, and I couldn't stop crying and thinking about him, and Nathalie was just—she slipped out of the back of my mind, and I couldn't—I couldn't—" He was sobbing now, but nothing was coming out. He'd had so little to drink in the last... week? Plagg had said week.

Marinette took his hand, and he wanted to jerk away, but he forced himself still.

"Of course you did," she whispered. "Nathalie... the grief is too big for you to look at."

What?

"Adrien, you may think you're not grieving her at all, but I—I saw the way you broke in that hospital room. I—your model smile came back. The fake one. I haven't—I haven't seen that in years." Marinette brushes her hair away from her forehead with her free hand, eyes closed, lashes wet. "You stopped responding to people, you stopped—it was like you were there, but you were gone."

"And—and why am I crying for him?"

"Because—" Marinette seems unsure. "I don't know. Maybe because... you're grieving what could have been? You're grieving the man you wished he would be?"

Maybe. Maybe she had a point.

"Maybe because you're angry. Angry at him for taking the moment that should be about Nathalie and making it about himself. Angry that you'll never get him to understand how much he hurt you."

Adrien curled up further. She was right. She was always right. God, he wanted to dig up his father's grave and scream into the man's face.

"Adrien, I cried when I heard. And it wasn't for you."

His brain slammed to a halt. What? She'd—why had she...?

"That man made our lives a living hell for five years. And I'd built... so much of myself around opposing him, around being everything he wasn't, around hating him and fighting him, and suddenly he was just... gone?" She squeezed his hand. "You loved him. You hated him. You can still grieve people you hate. And hating him... doesn't mean you didn't still..." She sighed. "There's nothing wrong with still loving him. There's nothing wrong with grieving him."

"And crying...?"

"There's no wrong way to grieve," she said. "And it seems like it's... smaller. So take it one step at a time."

"Hm?" he said, confused.

"Grieve them in whatever order you need to," Marinette said, holding his hand to her chest. Right over her heart. "Let it happen how it happens. I'm right here."

The last piece of Adrien that was holding together snapped, and he crawled into her lap and finally let himself collapse.

[venuscnjunctpluto]

Astro pt 3.

Credit: @venuscnjunctpluto

(I’m on spring break and literally have 50 other things I should be doing but we’re back at it again folks😝)

Venus conjunct saturn women 🤝 men w mommy issues

The worst moon square moon beef I’ve seen is Taurus and Aquarius. Both won’t let it go like the Taurus moon thinks they’re making sense while the Aquarius moon wants to seem unbothered it’s a mess.

Taurus Venus people are so beautiful (ex: Victoria Monet, Ariana Grande, Leighton Meester, Cillian Murphy, Matthew Gray Gubler, plus my mom���)

There are three types of Aquarius risings: one who walks around in pajamas and chokers, one who is legit a model, and the one who wears graphic t shirts and multiple finger rings)

Also I notice a lot of aqua rising women love dressing masculine (ex: Zendaya, Nicki Minaj, and Aaliyah) if you see a girl w her pants sagging with her hat turned backwards w every color of the rainbow on. just know she’s a aqua rising.

Sag Venus women are bisexual ex: Erica Mena, Nicki Minaj, and me lol

Most kpop stans have libra placements and this is coming from a libra moon

Underdeveloped Men w Fixed sign placements are such incel. Leo esp mars when their ego gets hurt they cannot take it. Aquarius thinks they’re too good and smart for women so they can’t understand why no one wants to be around them. Do I even need to explain Taurus and Scorpio?😭

Pieces Venuses are down bad ex: the men crave a manic pixie dream partner and when they can’t live up to the natives fantasy; they cheat. The women are usually loyal but they are blind asf and will neglect and abandon their relationships w others just for their partner who may or may not be trash. On a good note; they are very very very giving in relationships and so sweet but just because y’all can give doesn’t mean you have to constantly.

Brent faiyaz and Jungkook have Scorpio Mars😮‍💨 I don’t know what it is but I wanna date one so bad. What’s y’all experiences?

Certain signs and placements date people w similar charts. Like I notice Taurus suns usually date eachother bc who else is about to put up w them (just kidding…no I’m not🙂) also Scorpio placements (ex: future and Ciara, Megan fox and machine gun Kelly, Karruche and Chris brown…these are terrible examples😭)

As far as Venus conjunct ascendant synastry…I honestly only feel the tension when I’m the ascendant. Whenever my Venus conjuncts someone’s asc it doesn’t really move me like I don’t think they’re unattractive I just don’t really gaf. Their personalities are fun because my sag Venus and mars knows they can take a joke. I think Scorpio/8th house doesn’t really care too much about looks and appearances. In fact I notice Scorpio Venus men view the people they date as beneath them in some way and they do that to feel comfortable as if that person can’t get better and leave or cheat.

I always tell people I don’t have a type which I kinda don’t aesthetically but: Virgo rising, moon-Pluto or Scorpio moons, Virgo mars, Taurus suns w aqua moons, air venuses or mars, libra risings, Scorpio mars😚

Blueface and Chrisean have Venus square pluto synastry. When I say they are the most exaggerated example of this synastry it’s crazy. She clearly seems trauma bonded and believes she’s truly in love with this man (Venus). While he’s using her for money (pluto) and maintaining control over her at all times. That’s another thing w Venus Pluto synastry the venus person looks worse in the public eye because we’re always outwardly vulnerable (the good and bad) while Pluto doesn’t show just how insane they are overtly. But he’s the jealous one because peep how mad and aggressive he gets when she gets any sort of attention outside of him (ex: when Drake followed her and he twisted it to be related to him) Pluto really thinks they OWN the Venus person like that Brent lyric “they only wanna fuck with you cause they know I fuck with you” that’s their mentality. (They’re both physically abusive to eachother and need to breakup asap)

Also everyone talks about how much she’s changed for the worst since she got w him. Her missing tooth and getting multiple tattoos of that man. I’ve seen this guy w his Venus square his ex’s Pluto and he looked terrible while w her and when they broke up he got hisself together. My conjunction synastry took me from wearing bold colors to black for months😭

Sag placements esp Venus or mars men are bow legged asf

Lana Del Rey’s catalog is the epitome of 8th house stellium. Constant changes, a certain loneliness that doesn’t go away, learning and growing, but also never giving up hope.🦋

Cancer mars men and their pregnancy fetish…lil durk has like 5,000 kids and his ex India said that she wanted another baby because of how affectionate he was when she was pregnant.

A lot of football/soccer player have air mars. (Ex: mason mount, kylian mbappe, phil foden)

Women w sun-Neptune, Uranus, pluto may have terrible relationships w men bc of their relationship w their father

Aqua, sag, and cap placements are funny asf😭 I’m one of them and I don’t even try but people are always dying laughing around me

I’ve been in two “lust” triangles and both pairs had one Taurus placement friend and one Scorpio placement friend. The Taurus friend (literally both of them had birthday two days apart) liked me and had their Scorpio friend (one was a Scorpio Venus and the other was a Scorpio mars) spy on me or maybe they just offered😭 long story short the Scorpio friend ended up liking me in both situations I just✨felt✨ it. Taurus and Scorpio are both sneaky and possessive they have opposite energy and it’s very likely they could like the same people. It gets complicated because Scorpio is more likely to keep their crush a secret which can cause unintended overlap.

Capricorn mars: I don’t get mad like I rarely get upset😐

Us all hearing them yell behind closed doors and come out like nothing happened:

[sunshine-zenith]

Actually yeah I’m jumping back on my bullshit and doing another ramble about small details in Nimona

Specifically the fact that, in the movie, little Ballister already has his eye scar

In the comic, he gets the scar at the same time he loses the arm, but how he loses it in the book and the movie are different — in the comic he’s basically hit by a tiny missile, so it makes sense he would take a lot more damage overall, while in the movie it’s lost in a sword chop, so unless Ambrosius’s impulsive “disarming” also involves additional face stabbing, it wouldn’t make sense in the movie canon for him to give Bal the face scar here. But Ballister bleeds a bit from the head after the Gloradome collapses, and while him walking away with just one face scar instead of several might seem like a stretch, they could’ve played it off. They already had to make a new character model for him with the prosthetic arm, they could’ve also added the face scar to the second model

Instead, they “backdated” the scar all the way to his childhood without giving a backstory for it, and it implies so much about how his life was before he joined the knights

This concept art by Crystal Kung sure doesn’t show a happy and well cared for kid. We know he was homeless/impoverished (the visible patches on clothes, the “street kid/charity case” comments, zero signs of parents when his “commoner” bloodline is emphasized). He could’ve gotten the scar running from someone in the streets, or by getting into a fight since he was a pretty impulsive/bold (see what I did there) kid — jumping a fence and interrupting a knight training session. I can’t help but wonder though…

It’s implied that he’s an orphan, given the fact that all of zero parents are brought up when discussing his “commoner blood,” but it’s never outright stated. ND Stevenson stated that in the comic Ballister’s father gave up custody of his son to pay off his debts, and while the knights are no longer exploited orphans/the Queen doesn’t seem like the type of person to ask for that kind of transaction, it does make me wonder what movie Ballister’s parents were like

Look at those blotches on his face. Sure, they might just be dirt, since it doesn’t look like they bothered to give this poor kid a bath before throwing a media circus in his honor, but compare them to how bruising shows up on his adult self’s face. And if they are bruises, it’s possible that a couple of them are from the whole Tackled By Like Three Fully Grown Adults In Armor thing, but If you look closely, it looks like he already has a blotch before he’s tackled

Granted, his body language doesn’t really change when he sees the knights coming towards him (no flinches or attempts to cover his head, and while he doesn’t move it doesn’t look like he’s freezing) so him being abused might be a stretch, But think about how he holds Ambrosius back from confronting Todd, how he just quietly accepts the verbal harassment and rough treatment. He doesn’t think confronting Todd is worth it — Todd’s bullying was clearly never shut down or addressed over the years, and it’s likely that any attempts at retaliation from Ambrosius or Ballister got them in trouble instead. Bal is just… used to it

Listen. This vulnerable kid was hurt physically by something before he joined the knights. Maybe he had abusive parents, maybe he had an abusive foster family, maybe he was attacked by someone who caught him trying to steal food or something to survive, maybe he was attacked just for being homeless, maybe this wasn’t his first tango with knights. We have no clue. But he got that scar at a very young age and he got it from somewhere

[icybluepenguin]

The Sweetest Screams

Summary: Astarion relives a night of torture under Cazador. You wake him up and help him feel better by telling him how you see all the parts of him. Inspired by his lines “I am more than what you made me” and “I feel safe with you. Seen.” This is kind of exploring how he got there.

Pairing: Astarion x gender neutral Tav/reader

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Dark, Whump, Torture, Graphic Description, Emotional Abuse, Physical Abuse, Cazador, Godey, breaking bones, cuts, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Emotional Comfort, feeling seen & safe, Praise, Love, Astarion Has A Bad Time, I'm Sorry, but then he gets put back together again with lots of love and fluff

Note: Extra extra thanks to @brabblesblog and @leomonae for taking their time to beta & edit this. 💙 Go check out their work, they're amazing!

This link will take you past the torture, if you want to read the comfort/fluffy part: Skip hurt only comfort (goes to Ao3)

---

“Astarion…”

The dark singsong voice in his head sent a shiver down his spine. It was cloyingly sweet and full of false enticement. 

He balled up the shirt he'd been working on and hurried to hide it, together with his needle and thread. He didn't want his siblings to find them; he knew he wouldn't be able to come back for a while. 

“Come to me, child.”

Astarion had no choice but to obey. 

What had he done wrong? Has he not been the very model of obedience lately?  Even his siblings had noticed, calling him the master's little lapdog. Had he not brought back a beautiful half-elf for his master? 

He huffed at himself.  As if it ever mattered what he had or had not done. There was only one thing that tone of voice meant. 

Astarion knew where to find him. Even without the vague sense he always had of where his sire was, Astarion knew what to expect tonight.  

The master was bored. 

Astarion made his way down dark hallways, his feet moving on their own.  He felt like he was floating.  He passed no one on his way– was that his mistake tonight? He had come back too early, before the others, and so was the only target? 

The stench of the kennels wafted over him as he opened the door.  Decay, despair, rust.  Fetid and heavy.

The master was there, as expected, sitting in an ornate chair that had been dragged in just for the occasion.  A body slumped on a table next to him; still alive, but barely.  The man Astarion had brought back not two hours ago, now with a huge, dripping gash on his neck.  The scent of blood made Astarion feral, his hunger roaring through his dread. 

It was going to be a long night. 

“Is this how you greet your master, boy?” 

The master dragged a finger through the oozing blood on the body, bringing it to his lips to lick it off.  Astarion's mouth watered, his whole body aching for a taste of it. 

Astarion knelt, back straight and head bowed. “Good evening, Master.  H-how can I serve you?”  He hated the tremble in his voice he could never get rid of.  Hadn't he been tortured enough by now? Shouldn't it not bother him any longer?  Why must he be so weak? 

“Remove your clothes.  We do not want them getting stained, do we?  They are already pathetic.”

And whose fault is that, Astarion couldn't help but think, and then cowered into his own mind, stripping his shirt off faster, as if it would erase his blasphemous thought. He folded his clothes with trembling hands, quickly, terrified to be seen as anything but obedient.  

“We will make lovely music for the master, won't we, little one?” Godey chattered as Astarion placed his folded bundle somewhere the spray of blood wouldn't reach it.  “We are so lucky he is joining us tonight.  We will put on a good show for him.”  

The skeleton’s genial, eager voice washed over Astarion as he planted his feet, shivering uncontrollably, his eyes unfocused and pointed at the wall. There was nothing to do now but endure. He couldn't stop this. 

“Start with his face, Godey. I want to see his lovely features covered in bruises.”  The master took another drink from the body, blood coating his lips. “And you, Astarion. Stand still and scream prettily for me.”

Godey's bare finger bones creaked as they folded into a fist.  Astarion closed his eyes, knowing that bracing for the blow was useless, but the instinct hadn't died yet.  Pain bloomed across his cheek; he barely had time to gasp before the other side was punched - harder.  It split his lip, his own blood bright on his tongue.  

He swayed on his feet, dizzy and starving.  When was the last time he ate?  The scent of rich, fresh blood filled the air, the master playing with his meal as he watched.  Astarion, so, so desperately hungry, almost bared his fangs for a taste.  He could never touch that blood, even if he were not too weak to take it.  But he wanted it so badly even the cracking of his cheekbone from the rain of blows didn't ache as much as the hunger did. 

Astarion knew what the master wanted. A tiny, contrary part of him– a part he had tried hard to crush–  demanded he make the master earn his screams. He could indulge in this small withholding, this smallest sip of power, couldn't he? 

It wouldn't matter either way. They would destroy him, it was inevitable as the sunrise. 

He could barely see now, his eyes swelling nearly shut. His head was spinning. He staggered down to his knees, hands splayed in front of him to keep him from falling on his ruined face.  He thought there were tears, but he couldn't feel them. 

“Do not slouch, boy.”

Astarion tried to stand, but his brain seemed to slosh in his head and he collapsed back down. The earliest wounds were already starting to heal.  But it was slow- it had been so long since he'd fed.

“Weak,” the master sneered, the word full of disappointment and disgust. “I told you to stand still. Such a simple command and yet you cannot follow it.”

Godey’s hand grabbed his hair, the bones scraping on his scalp, pulling back to bend his neck at a cruel angle. There was something in its other hand, something red with dried blood.

When the blade touched his skin, he begged. It was what they wanted. In a slurred, breathy voice, he begged for mercy, for forgiveness, for the knife to stop slicing his skin into hideous art.  

He begged for death. 

It did not matter. There was no rhyme or reason to this. 

His pleas were worthless. He was worthless. Nothing he did changed anything, now or ever.  He was nothing. Weak. 

“Please, I'm sorry… Just kill me, please, let me die…”

The master sighed with frustration.  “Always such yapping from you.  Are you never out of words?”

His only purpose was to be entertainment.  For his master, for his victims.  He only existed to be pleasing, and his pain was pleasing to them.  

He couldn't even do that right. 

The master stood. Astarion rocked back and forth, whimpering, trying to pay attention to the master's movements, to anticipate what the master would want from him, but the burning, stinging, overwhelming pain consumed him. 

An elegant hand held something wriggling and squeaking to Astarion's face.  

Fresh.

Alive. 

It's a trick. 

His body acted before he could think.  He snatched the treat with greedy hands and sank his fangs into its twisting body before it could be taken from him.  He drained it in huge gulps, finishing far too soon, sucking on its empty body long after it had ceased to give him blood. 

“Disgusting.  Have you no manners, boy?” 

The master's eyes glowed a brighter red and magic seized him, yanking him to his feet. 

The rat dropped from his mouth and he whined, still starving. His wounds were healing faster, burning through what little nourishment he'd gotten. He knew it was a trick, food was always a trick. It didn't matter. He wanted more. 

His body was contorted, forcing him back to his knees, arms extended in front of him. 

The master grabbed his chin, examining the closing cuts on his face and the rat blood that had dripped down his neck.  “Not even a ‘thank you’ for your dinner?  What an unruly child.  After all I have done for you–  such wasted effort.”  His palm cracked across Astarion's face, making his head snap to the side, making his broken cheekbone shriek with renewed vigor.  “At least we have stopped your yapping, for once.”

Haven't I been obedient, didn't I bring you a beautiful meal? he wanted to wail.  What more can I do?

The master wiped his hand clean of blood on Astarion's hair and returned to his chair.  “I have not heard him scream yet. Break his hands. That is always a delightful sound.”  

“Oh yes, we haven't done this in a long time. Last time, you sounded so pretty, little one,” Godey hummed as it rummaged for something out of Astarion’s sight.

Astarion's stomach dropped like a stone, his muscles yanking helplessly against the magic. Beat him, flay him, drain him, but–

He sobbed, “Please, I've been good, please, I'll be so good,” knowing that mercy did not exist in this room. They would cut him and break him until they tired of it, dragging his pulverized body to one of the blood-stained palettes until he healed enough to do it all again. 

And again.  

And again. 

“Stop making such a fuss, little one. Godey will take good care of you, just like always.” The skeleton raised a pair of large pliers into Astarion's view. 

The metal jaws were intensely cold on his finger.  No, no no-

He screamed for them. He screamed until his throat was raw, until his voice was gone, and still he screamed. The master's pleased laughter cut through his own noises to ring in his ears. The master's delight wouldn't save him. Nothing would save him from the crushing, crunching, ripping–

“Astarion. Astarion!” 

He jerked. 

There was no pain. 

The air smelled clean and… sweet. 

He stared blankly up at a face that had skin and softness, not naked bone.  

You. You were there. He was in your tent in… Rivington. Yes, that's where he was. Not the kennels. 

“You were screaming.”

He swallowed, noticing the soreness in his throat.  

“They're getting worse, the closer we get to Baldur's Gate, aren't they?”

“Well, it's not as if I have any happy memories to meditate with,” he said, trying to wave it away even though his voice was hoarse.  It was getting worse, the closer he got to home.  Instead of memories that he could replay as an observer, detached, he felt swallowed by them.  Forced to relive every torturous detail.  He held his hands in front of his face to be sure they weren't crushed to a pulp.  He could almost still feel it. 

He was desperate to kill Cazador.  Every second of delay was interminable. He wanted to be truly free of the man, to see his corpse at his feet and know that Cazador would never touch him again. And if he could take all of his potential power for himself? Even better.  

But he was also terrified to his very core to see his old master again. What if he couldn't do it? He was stronger now, but he still felt too weak for this. And what if something happened to you? He would never forgive himself.  

“I’m sorry that I woke you,” he said. “Go back to sleep, darling. I'm fine.” Guilt made his stomach twist. You got precious little sleep as it was, and he was making it worse. After all you had done for him. Ungrateful. Unruly. 

“Yeah, that's not happening. You were screaming. I'm not going back to sleep and leaving you alone.”  You cupped his face in your hands, rubbing his temples with your thumbs. “Tell me about it.”

He didn't want to; wanted to shove it down and pretend it had never happened, like every other time. He hated to burden you, to make you listen to him yapping. You deserved better.

“Astarion,” you said gently. “I know that look. Try me. Please.”

He felt so brittle under your touch. Ready to shatter into a thousand pieces if he wasn't careful.  Gods, he wanted to tell you everything as much as he didn't want to tell you a single thing. 

“It was just…” He struggled for a quip, but nothing came.  “It was a memory of Cazador's torments. Nothing special.”

“Come on.” You stood, grabbing his hand to urge him up. “We're going outside.”

“Outside?” He was completely baffled. 

“Yes.” You pulled the blanket off the bedroll and led him out, the both of you barefoot and in your nightclothes.

The moon was bright and low on the horizon, its silver light shining on you as you picked your way across camp, still holding his hand. Astarion inhaled deeply, the cool air filling his lungs.  He hadn't even realized he had felt trapped in the small space of the tent but now, as a breeze tickled his hair, he couldn't imagine going back inside. 

He couldn't stand to keep the words trapped inside either. They came haltingly at first, half-mumbled as if he hoped you wouldn't hear. But by the time you were spreading out the blanket on a patch of soft grass, the memory was pouring out. It was easier out here in the open with you not staring at him, while he choked back emotion, trying and failing to stay aloof and sarcastic about it all. 

You sat next to him, fingers laced through his in silent comfort. 

When he was done, he waited for the pity, for you to see him as a broken, pathetic thing.  He knew you couldn't make these memories go away, could never remove the pain of them.  You couldn't make it so he hadn’t lived them.  

But you surprised him again. 

You squeezed his hand just a little too hard. “We are going to destroy that rat-bastard.  There won't be enough pieces of him left to fill a chalice when we're done with him.”

He coughed, a laugh stuck in his throat from the uncharacteristic venom in your voice. “Well, I do appreciate that, darling.  It wasn't even the worst night,” he shrugged. “Or maybe it was one of many similar worst nights. Hard to pick, really.” He sighed. “It was usually one or the other of them. But nights when Cazador was bored… When he wanted to be… entertained, those held an extra layer of humiliation.”

He pulled his hand from you, wrapping his arms around his knees, curling his body around the sudden crushing pressure in his chest. Weak. Pathetic. Disgusting. Never obedient enough.  Never good enough.  

He strangled back the tears that threatened to fall. “I was nothing to them. Less than a dog. Just… an object to be broken at their whims.”

Astarion put his head on his knees, huddled as tightly as he could get, but the shame and despair and fear wouldn't stop growing. Weak. 

“And this wretched contract.  All the shit Cazador put me through, the centuries of torment… just to be consumed so that he can attain greater power?”  Why, why did that hurt?  He hated Cazador to the very depths of his soul.  Being discarded, though, even by him, being so worthless that only his death mattered at all crushed his heart. 

Bitterness twisted his lips and he huffed.  “Being consumed. That's what I was made for.”  

“Astarion-” 

“I'm only good for entertainment. I'm a toy. Sex or torture, it doesn't matter.” I don't matter. 

“That's not true at all.”

“Oh, isn't it?” he snapped, head jerking up to glare at you. “How did this start then?” He gestured between you. “You just had to sleep with the sexy vampire, didn't you.”  

He bit his lip hard. Lashing out was easier than being honest, pushing the hurt onto someone else, being the one to wield the knife for once. He cowered deeper into his knees. And after he had woken you and you were staying awake with him.  Ungrateful. Unruly.  Weak.  Pathetic. 

But you didn't rise to the bait.

“Why are you even with me?” he asked in a quiet, broken voice - the question that had been lurking in the back of his mind since you'd chosen him, the question that begged to be answered whenever he looked at you but that he could never utter, terrified of what you would say. “I’m too much wasted effort. I can't give you anything. Not sex, not safety…” 

“What in our time together gives you the impression that I am someone concerned with safety?”  There was a bit of laughter in your words, incredulous but gentle. “I was never with you for the sex.  It was nice-” 

Even drowning as he was, Astarion couldn't keep from retorting, “It was more than just ‘nice.’”  

Your slightly exasperated smile warmed his hurting heart. 

“Fine, it was mind-blowing in every way. But that was not and is not and never will be why I love you.”

You had never said it before. Love. But you said it so clearly, so naturally, as if there was no question at all, that Astarion's eyes welled with tears.  He blinked them back. 

You touched him carefully, drawing his head up to look at you but giving him the chance to pull away.  “I love you, Astarion.  All the broken pieces, all the rough edges, all the contradictory mishmash.  I love the gleeful little noise you make when we find some good treasure.  And the pride on your face after you open a particularly hard lock.  I love watching you read, I love watching you embroider, I love watching you try to learn necromancy.  Mm, if I were worried about safety, I probably shouldn't let you do that.”

Something started to uncurl from the tight, painful ball in his chest as Astarion watched you talk about him with bright enthusiasm. He hadn't realized how much attention you'd paid to the small details of him. 

“I love listening to you. I love seeing you smile. Gods above, I love seeing you smile.”  You smiled to yourself at the memory of it.  “I've watched you grow from being so afraid– understandably–  to trusting us. Trusting me enough to let me know you.  And I am so glad you did. I'm so glad you're here.” 

“And I'm beautiful, don't forget that,” he said with forced airiness to deflect, adoring the praises and uncomfortable with being so seen at the same time.

“You are unfairly beautiful. But that's not what this is about. You are brave, Astarion. You've thrown yourself into battles with goblins and cultists and a hag, fights that would have given trained soldiers a fright.  You don't take shit from anyone. Not even explosive wizards or transdimensional warriors or whatever the hells Withers is.”

Your voice lowered and you touched your forehead to his. “I love you. All of you.”

Three little words… everyone's favorite. He had used them to con hundreds of people.  Hundreds had said it to him in a lust-driven haze. This was something so vastly different.  

He could feel it.  It wasn't just three little words.  It settled in his ribs, sweet and precious and sincere.

“May I kiss you?” 

The question surprised him. But now that you had asked, he wanted it badly.  To feel connected to you, to this new life, to feel like he was wanted. 

“Please,” he said. 

But you didn't lean in as he expected. 

You picked up his hand, laying a soft kiss on each joint.  You kissed his palm, turning it over to kiss the other side. You laid another on his wrist and then did the same with the other hand, slow and methodical.  These weren't teasing or erotic. It was, he realized, as if he were a small child.  You cupped his face and pressed your warm lips to his cheek, to the bridge of his nose, to his brow.  

Everywhere that he had said he'd been hurt. 

He couldn't hold back the tears any longer. They surged up in a tidal wave, the simple kindness of your kisses flooding him, and he buried his head in your neck with a whimper.  

“Shh, I've got you,” you whispered, stroking his hair. “It's okay.”

He wrapped his arms around you, clinging like he'd be lost without you grounding him.  His hands clawed into your nightshirt;  all the longing and doubt and fear and rage that he'd been shoving away crashed over him, impossible to ignore, impossible to hold.  It poured out of him in gasping, ugly sobs. 

You just held him, rubbing his back, occasionally murmuring something comforting or encouraging. 

He cried until he was empty, until the raging storm had passed and all he felt was exhausted and drained.  His grip on you loosened, but he didn't let go. He listened to your breathing, consciously pulling air in and out of his lungs to match. It was soothing. 

He was a mess and so was your shirt.  He felt shaky and vulnerable, tender like a new wound. 

But he didn't feel weak.  

“Here, my love,” you said, holding your wrist up. “Eat.  You'll feel better.”

He almost dissolved into tears again.  There was no trick, no hidden motive, just food because he needed it.

Taking your arm, he did his best to bite gently. It was the least he could do. You hissed and tensed but wouldn't let him pull away.

“Just stings a little more than I expected. I'm fine. Eat, please.”  

It was exceedingly peaceful, watching the sky slowly lighten and the stars fade, slumped against your shoulder with the rich taste of your blood in his mouth. You stroked his back with your free hand, and he thought, maybe this was what home was supposed to feel like.

Loved.  Wanted.  Seen. 

-

Master Post

[justslowdown]

It's freaky and fascinating how linked chronic illness can be to mental health

More and more science is showing that mental and social pain are going through the same parts of our brain as physical... the model of pain as bio-psycho-social makes a lot more sense to me than "your genetics have something weird wrong that we just need to get to the bottom of" WHICH sometimes IS a big piece of the puzzle! But isn't the only one.

The way we've been conditioned and currently conceptualize framworks to interpret and respond to pain and discomfort is a real factor. The brain is incredibly plastic/malleable and things we take for granted were often built up over time. And: the mental anguish we may be in is a massive, massive factor! And in my experience affects far more than pain--

That was there too for me--the very real, physical pain from my scoliosis and lax joints hurt in a way that I was constantly aware of, rather than being able to tune it out. Some days, I'd feel every joint in my hands buzzing with pain. NSAIDs barely helped then, even dangerous amounts

Within a few months on the (also sometimes painful: physically, socially, and mentally!) journey towards mental wellbeing... I didn't need painkillers to get through a day.

Normally, I don't have allergic reactions to anything. At the worst mental health point in my life, I was allergic to my own sweat, but also to most antiperspirant. I had a painful rash around my nose and mouth that popped up whenever I was extra stressed. Some foods didn't digest right. Meals felt like they sat in my stomach like lead and I felt nauseously full on 1/2 the calories I needed a day.

It's been a year since I've felt like that and a lot of the journey has been the hardest things I've pushed myself through.

Counterintuitively, becoming embodied in and moving through my suffering was a very important part of it. I believe trauma does live in how we hold ourselves. Both our minds/hearts/souls in tenderness or judgment, but also our physical bodies--the tension and fight or flight nervous system activation. Autoimmune is something I haven't seen much info on regarding this link, but I am curious, after my experience

[e17omm]

Alright lets see what Ampherus is all about and I hope that's the right name because I just remember something on A and that there's a p somewhere but I am not completely sure.

TLDR after finishing it:

Story: great. I think its well written and the mysteries are interesting.

Budget allocation; 85% cutscenes, 15% dialogue scenes. Honestly the difference in quality is STAGGERING and it is VERY noticable.

The bossfight: fucking awful because its %maxHP def-ignoring AoE damage. No I am not kidding. Let me repeat that: the boss has %maxHP def-ignoring AoE damage! Who the fuck thought that was a good idea?! Honestly good luck because unless you can out-DPS it there is actually NOTHING you can do. (except switch to easy mode. That drops the boss' level to 63. My Jingliu 3-shot it)

Its AmphOrEus. Eh I was close.

Ah if only we could have some characters sitting or leaning on a table. Presentation is a big part of the story after all, and this is a complaint Im brining with me from all of Hoyo's games lately.

What's the point of custom music on the Astral Express if every time I load it the music resets?

This cut???? Pre- and post- cut arent even close!

Was probably because Sunday was blocking the window. The lack of the window made me really confused about where we were even standing.

That forehead touching black screen is WHY YOU USE 3D MODELS SO YOU CAN ACTUALLY ANIMATE IT. Sorry, HI3 actually started using 3D models as 3D models again and now it just feels very lazy when HSR does black screens instead.

Oh my god was that "Some time later" black screen REALLY necessary?

We're right next to the train and nothing happened! Just cut that some time later screen it completely killed the momentum of the cutscene!

Okay I actually took a shower and got some time to think. So far I really like this! We kinda go to a place nobody knows anything about for fuel reasons, but as soon as we arrive mysteries start up. It made me more curious about Amphoreus.

I KNEW IT. I KNEW THE STATUES MOVED.

The budget gap between the cutscene and dialogue is STARK

There's so many missed oppertunities to really show the strength of 3D models and Hoyo has barely been doing it for years now. How does PGR with its VN style of story show their story better than Snowy not even able to toss our baseball bat back to us?

I really like the whole memory of the past thing, makes sense with Remembrance here and clears up the confusion I had earlier, being that I though it was switching from night to day. But actually its present and past. That's cool.

Also Tribbie just poofed into thin air lol.

Wow the low budget "we cant even show Stelle on the Dromas" into a high budget cutscene really caught me off-guard. I know Im repeatedly bringing it up but the difference in quality is staggering.

Wow they sped up the "turning around" animation and it didnt look horrible. Good job. I like. Improvement.

The Furiae Praetor completely ignores taunt. Uuuuuuh okay then sure I guess.

I was just gonna bring up how I like Castorice but Hoyo brought up birds again and just please dont go philosophical with it...

These water physics are fantastic holy shit is this where the budget went??

Wait the upper water physics are worse? Why? Come on! The downstairs water was great!

Ooh Stellaron is here too. I hope they bring back that we can hear the Stellaron, that was really cool when it happened in Belobog.

The intrusive thoughts win again!

I think Im also gonna stop my budget complaints here. Its allthrough around every corner except every 6th corner where theres a high quality cutscene or fantastic water physics.

Ah shit March is here and she just leaked that the universe exists. She lacks critical information!

Our own bath has the good water physics lets go!

Wait a minute, why did the thread tremble? It only trembles at a lie! What part of what I said was a lie about the Stellaron in my body?

Lol you can just leave and the credits roll

Aaaaaand it stuck my game on mute forcing an actual relaunch. What the fuck Hoyo? OH WIAT NVM I just had to manually quit to title and its back.

No, trust me, my Fire TB can tank a star. We wont be having issues with me tanking damage. I just hope that the team is just me and Phainon.

How the hell did this bridge stop anyone from entering? Sure, leaving might be a problem, but I could make that jump down and then just walk up the other end. This bridge just exists to be fancy, not to actually serve as a bridge considering if they just built the lower section slightly higher, a bridge wouldnt be needed at all.

PLeassseeeeee just give me trial charactersssssss

It would be so so so fitting for this partttt.

WE REALLY FIGHT STRIFE WITHOUT TRIAL CHARACTERS COME ON

Did they really have to clarify that Mydeimos is Mydei? They're having way too much fun with this over-the-text clarification.

Its a race against time! We have to warn them and get ready right away! Lets play the normal calm music the city normally has :) that will fit the tone! :D

Imagine a world where we could actually see the TB jump onto the scale...

I like that all our past memories were of the Stellaron Hunters. Definitely feels like we're being set up to work alongside them. And if Hoyo wants to go wild (which they havent been that much lately) they could temporarily make us leave the Astral Express in order to work with the Stellaron Hunters to achive something. That would be really cool but also very wild. It could happen, as long as the writers dont write on shit and make Stelle forget again once I click away the "new path" screen.

Also wow we just got Remembrance just like that? I mean, it was fitting, but its kinda crazy how Belobog is still the best in regards to giving us a new path. Belobog > Amphoreus > Penacony for me. The weapons have REALLY gone downhill tho. The hat was fun but now we just have a pen? Give me a blade or a gun next time, I want to see Stelle with an assault rifle in her hands.

Oh shit Remembrance is a new playable path. I have no light cones!

Well at least I have something new to spend my stamina on! Remembrance stuff!

Oh wow I just looked through TB's and Mem's skills and oh boy I need to build some other tank units because Mem sounds like an insane support for my Jingliu

Oh my god IceTB makes me want to run Jingliu Bronya Mem and Sparkle because oh my god I want to let her go on an absolute rampage

Oh it never hit me that Mem can fucking die until Luocha healed her.

Also Mem is so close to both Meme and Emm I cant what is this help-

...You get a free Victory In a Blink after the section is over. I could've saved some currency...

Okay kinda late on this, but I wish Agy would've actually been ready to kill us if it meant protecting the city. It just, feels overly safe to have her go "yeah I never actually inteded to kill them, it was just to put them under pressure :)" like, Hoyo used to give us playable characters that killed other people. It just feels overly safe, like as to alienate as few people as possible from liking her. I dont think it would change Agy's character much at all, and its not like TB and Dan ever finds out she never meant to kill us, Agy just told Tribbie that little fact. Just, remove that little scene and nothing changes about her - except that it doesnt feel like she was written as safely as they could write her.

Whohooo they gave us Story Agy! Finally! Do they not have Phanion ready yet or what? Please do this more Hoyo it used to be so immersive.

Well they just used the exact same black screen 3 times in a row...

I like the puzzle mechanics but do they really have to put a marker handholding you through how to solve it?

I know I said I wouldnt bring up the budget... but they couldnt even animate Castorice coughing. Just have a visual novel for dialogue moments at this point...

Gnaeus is one of the best characters ngl

The refight with Strife was not made with the IceTB in mind. She keeps getting oneshot during Strife's turns right away due to not having enough HP from relics. Whoopdedoo here comes FireTB again.

Kinda sad that the only way this fight is hard is because it deals % max HP damage that ignores defense while cutting out max HP by 50% constantly.

Like, what the fuck?

...... and the boss attacks before using the %maxHP def-ignoring attacking.

I think its safe to say that this is the worst designed boss in the entire game.

You're telling me that we did all that and it still attacked the big statue guy? Like yeah it couldn't keep beaming it forever, but we couldn't even stop it in time? Cmon now. You cant just make a bullshit boss and then not even let us finish it.

Yeah that was the only boss I ever turned on Easy mode for in any Hoyo game. I am not going to try to figure out a way to beat motherfucking %maxHP def-ignoring damage. If casual mode didnt lower its levels by like 20 so my Jingliu could 3-shot it, I would've just put down the game and concluded my playthrough there.

I hope to fucking god it doesnt have that move in the weekly battle, but I have a feeling it just fucking might.

Suddenly Herta feels... very random. But I cant be too mad since it seems that FINALLY something is happening while we aren't there. Now here's to hoping that they dont blow the fuse too early and Herta comes to Amphoreus, because why the fuck would she?

(deep sigh)

So how does the Astral Express travel? Because I dont know what low on fuel means for it, but I dont think trips back and forth across the cosmos would be good for the fuel situation. If those teleporting points are actually used by them, 1. How the fuck do they work? 2. That is a massive security issue if someone can just warp into anywhere.

Whatever. What is the difference of us being glanced by Aeons and Herta being glanced by Aeons? Because we're getting casually glanced at left and right, but for Herta it could incinerate anyone and anything near her.

Okay its been rubbing me the wrong way for a while now; what the hell is this prophecy? Most prophecies I usually hear in stories is like, this character is destined to be great! or something like this. But this prophecy literally dictates what they do. These chants and rituals include the mention of the prophecy in them, its like the entire world of Amphoreus is dictated by what the prophecy says. Its not like "oh this great boy who came from nothing will rise up and become a god" no, its "the prophecy chose this boy to grow up to become a god" like, what? What the hell is this prophecy?

Its really rubbing me the wrong way.

Hello Elysia Voice Actor.

Whaaaat the hell is happening to March? She's returning to her ice state!

Honestly the most interesting thing about Amphoreus is what is happening to March, but I actually hope that it isnt resolved at Amphoreus because Hoyo DESPERATELY needs some plot points to last longer than in just one section. Like I dont want March to be back on her feet and happy by the end of Amphoreus. I want this to drag out so that we can have some reason to go to the next area other than to just Trailblaze.

[entitiy-4]

A treatise on the AbsoluteSolver

So. I've been thinking about the Solver (big surprise) and specifically it's powerset, something i don't think others have really delved into (or at least that I've seen).

(ramblings below)

Because when you look at the powers used throughout the series, theres some interesting questions to ask. For instance, why are [ROTATE] and [SCALE] different from [TRANSLATE] and [EDIT] respectively? We see several instances of objects being turned while under the [TRANSLATE] command, meaning [ROTATE] should be obsolete. And though we don't see many instances of [EDIT], based on it's naming convention, you would expect to be able to scale the edited object.

In addition, there's the two commands we see used in [NULL] and whatever script Doll uses to teleport. I'm not including regeneration or limb creation in this specific breakdown, because they don't appear to be commands, or at least there are no glowing texts that appear when they are used.

So. We've got our anachronism. What's my proposed solution?

The Absolute Solver is a 3d modeling program.

Translate, Rotate, and Scale are all terms used in 3d modeling programs to define what one does to an object. Translate moves it in physical space, rotate turns it, and scale changes its size.

Which actually gives us a very clear answer for what the [NULL] command is. It's an eraser tool! Specifically, a sculpt eraser. And with [EDIT] lining up with editing the objects makeup (and also enabling copy/paste functions like how Doll duplicates knives) we have all our simple commands.

Teleportation doesn't fit as cleanly into our hypothesis though. But there's something that clearly separates it from all our other commands - it isn't tied to a specific symbol ([NULL] initializes with the [TRANSLATE] command, which makes me even more confident in calling the Solver a sculpting program. Adobe Substance 3d, a different sculpting program, has the erase tool as a sphere one moves onto the parts which one desires removed). It makes more sense as a string of commands, and we see this clearly. Where most uses of the other commands involve their symbol, teleportation is accompanied by text, smoke (in Doll's case) and afterimages (in Cyn's case). The fact both teleportation users have different presentation but the same outcome makes me confident to say that they are actually different programs, just run with the same result, using the Solver as a way to pull them off.

The idea that the Solver is a modeling program also answers a question that's been nagging at me ever since we saw that cutting off limbs disables solver use. Why? Well, if we have the hand/limb using the function as the cursor, removing it shuts down the attempted affect. On top of that, it shows why Uzi is able to use two Solver instances at the end of the show, one yellow and one purple. She has the hardware to run two different instances now that she has Cyn's instance alongside her own.

Of course the CallbackPing function we see Cyn use, as well as regeneration, implies there's a level above the 3d modeling stuff, but barring more information my simple guess is it's something akin to hacking into the client the Solver runs on to add more features for one's own use.

TLDR the Absolute Solver, the Void, the Exponential End, is really just a glorified 3d modeling program which runs on the universe's hardware (Or at least it's constrained to that at it's simplest form).

IDK tho I'm kinda rambling.

[lullabyalikpoptarot]

Yeonjun and Taehyun's Dynamic Reading

So, last week's reading made me interested in doing this duo to see what I can get for them energetically. I say they have a pretty quiet bond. I was interested in watching some videos of these two but decided to wait after this reading, so I don't have a bias. Although, one of my faves. I don't always pay attention to their dynamics. I focus more on their performances and music, than anything else, so interested to see what I get here.

Overall energy: Looks this is going how I was expecting it to go. So, they start with the House 2, both seem to be about money, materialism and physical security. I get this energy from these two, so they relate in that sense. Money, success and accolades is what these two want and probably how they connect their self-worth to.

We also got Air energy here, so both are pretty matter of fact and intellectual with one another. They like to share ideas with one another. They are both very social creatures, and have an extroverted mindset, so I say they connect, due to relatability, but I don't really see a close bond here. It seems pretty cordial. I mean one of the keywords on the card is detached, so their energy does give me that vibe. They are cool. I don't see anything messy here. It is just they are in the same group, so they get along due to that. But I see these two respecting each other a lot and their ideas.

Yeonjun's energy: He starts with the God card and the Poet, dude be feeling himself, good for him lol No but, it seems he knows his strength and power, with the god card coming up, there is a sense of feeling superior to Taehyun or having more authority, now yes, they do have a hierarchy system, but this is the first time, since these reading I got this, so it plays a big role in this bond. But I can also see him trying to appear powerful to him. I don't see him wanting to show any weakness or flaws around him. So, he might put pressure on himself to appear flawless in front of him.

Now, with the Poet, Yeonjun seems to be very good with words and a very inspiring person, so he may share these insights with Tae and give him a lot of loving words of advice. It is like he wants to be a moral authority for him. I don't see this as anything negative. I just think he may want to be a god model figure for him. Hmm, wonder if I get this same energy with the other younger members.

Now, with this Hermit card, he stands on his own and does his own things. He seems to like to figure things out on his own and be in his own world. But I do feel he does know himself very well and Tae may see that as well. Now, with the Chariot he is bold and courageous and willing to take chances and face challenges, not sure how this connects to the bond, but it does show Yeonjun kind of does his own thing. Maybe Tae respects all these qualities in him.

But I do see something about loss and disappointment, so he may show signs of sadness around Tae or he senses it. Or I feel like when he is feeling down, he needs his alone time and maybe that is what this is showing, maybe Tae is aware of that, like he may not like to show when he is down but doesn't really have a good way to hide it.

I see Yeonjun as someone goal oriented, a grinder, someone who is consistently moving towards his goals and pushing to reach new heights in his career. I feel Tae respects that and applauds his persistence and may want to emulate that. I also see him being pretty loyal and supportive as a friend when need be. He doesn't seem like a flakey friend.

Taehyun's energy: We start with the storyteller and the fool card, so he probably enjoys telling him stories that make him laugh or just sharing of the wall stories. I feel Tae can get pretty vulnerable around him. I don't think he can hide himself around him. I do see him trying his best to make Yeonjun laugh, not sure why I am getting that.

I see him having good energy around him. I think Tae just wants to lift his spirits and give him good energy. I feel he feels comfortable and at home around Yeonjun. I just see them having a lot of fun together, maybe having drinks every so often. It just seems like a fun time when they are together, so although they don't know each other on a deep level, that is okay, they seem to enjoy each other's company, so their bond seems pretty calm, fun and cool.

He does seem to feel conflicted when it comes to Yeonjun. He seems unsure of himself and not really able to make a decision. I had to clarify that and got the 3 of Cups, so he may be caught in between him and someone else. I still don't get that but moving on. I think from Tae's perspective they have a nice give and take balance. He helps him out and Yeonjun helps him out. I say their love language would be acts of service. They support one another in their own way. They are there to offer each other support in tangible ways and can count on each other as well.

Once again, a nice calm bond. I liked this energy too. I am kind of happy I went with these bonds this weekend. All were pretty clear cut, not as draining and fun to look into. Also, pretty quick as well.