#self care is writing things to fill the void even if they are not great because holy shit I need to get out of my head

[cryingyetcourageous]

OOC

[[Heads up: There's a lot going on and I am Not Handling It Well, so I'm gonna be on and off a lot. I'll either go long stretches without answering or be on way too much and might clog your dash with shit to distract myself. Just a head's up. I may need pokes or links to people I owe. idk, i'm kinda scatterbrained atm and I can't find things I KNOW are there somewhere and it's stressing me out]]

[empyllon]

"Nobody cares..."

That's usually what goes through my mind when I want to talk about something on my mind or discuss my life.

It's been about 2 weeks being single and I can honestly say, I'm happier most of my time. I'm not writing this to spite my ex, but just to say, I'm doing better mentally. "Us" wasn't working.

I have been feeling like for the longest time, I wasn't important, I didn't matter. Whatever I did was just not good enough. I was living in the shadow of great potential, overlooked because I wasn't picture perfect.

But it's redundant and destructive to say that about myself. I am matter, and I do matter. I exist, so I do. Even in the absence of me, I do. Something, something science and space.

I want to live my life in a state of progression, not regression. I'm over the idea of reducing myself to fit sizes of hypotheticals just to be liked. And if someone acts like that, they are not for me.

That is to say, there are things we shouldn't be doing to one another. Like encouraging any form of abuse, or addictions. Harm reduction is such a key element in healthy relationships, which expands to cover everything really. Anything, from cigarettes to explosive arguments.

Self sacrificing to the point of erasure will only drown out the other person, and if people don't have healthy boundaries, it strengthens this dysfunctional behavior. The best quote I heard as of late was "when I tell you no, I want to say yes", in relation to someone requesting peers to flat out reject them.

I wanna be me again, the fun loving, smart, and thoughtful version of me. The kind person, that can offer up gestures not because I'm selfish, but because I like when others feel welcome in this world too. I haven't been feeling like that for a few months at least now.

The story of the giving tree hit home for me. The line "And the tree was happy... but not really." has been the descriptor of my lived experience for such a long time. It wasn't that I was pursuing happiness as a means of normalcy, but the need for peace and calm became so rare I was wondering if I was simply broken. I'd given my all, and felt less and less important in a way too small shape unfit for me.

I don't think I'm broken, or damaged, or incomplete. I don't miss a piece, or need to fill an empty void. But being isolated and lonely is a lot more challenging, especially if you live in fear of making mistakes and drawing ire.

I'm kinda just done with that. I'm over being this half of a whole. Because people aren't halves, nobody is. We make cool vendiagrams when we intersect and expand into new places like fractals. I think in this sense, you can still have these concepts of soul mates and twin flames, but they aren't your SOLE mate. It's more like harmonizing flames, like tuning forks. Some vibrate together for longer, some become out of sync. And there is nothing wrong with that.

However, I've been resonating out of tune for so long I find my own harmony to be torturous. It is due time I spend some me-time to get back in tune with myself.

[sincerely-smeagol]

Anxiety

I guess I've always had it...

But I don't think I really knew what it was until I was an "adult". I say adult lightly because even at 28, I still don't have a clue what I'm doing. Sure, I can vote and drink and I am capable of taking care of myself, but I don't really feel like an adult.

Imposter syndrome is very real. I feel like I'm skating through life sometimes, not really improving, just treading water most of the time.

I first started saying I had anxiety in college. Social anxiety. Being around other people made me tired sometimes even though I was one of the most outgoing people I knew and always had been. I had my fingers in a lot of pies. I was in a sorority, I was director of marketing for our college radio station, I had three jobs...I was very social. But all that took a toll on my energy levels, and I started to realize I like smoking pot and staying in with my dog a lot more than I liked people most of the time. At that point, my social anxiety was often the crutch I leaned on when I just didn't want to see someone. We would have plans to hang out, and I would back out at the last possible second because it was just easier to be alone. Well, I'm married now, and I'm still that way. I'm 28 years old and my husband is my only consistent friend. How sad is that? I don't know, maybe it's not that bad. I love my husband, and he's a great friend. My best friend. I've tried off and on to make new friends as an adult, but it takes so much energy to get to know people organically and to continue to make plans regularly. Everyone has lives and schedules and honestly I'm exhausted most of the time anyway.

This is not what I planned to write about. I feel like I got off into the weeds, but I guess the point was just to write it. My brain was spinning with anxious thoughts and I couldn't fall asleep, so I figured it would be best to just get it out.

The thing that was bothering me is I don't really know when my anxiety started or why...

Today, my anxiety looks a lot like stressing out over being a perfectionist and wondering how the hell I'm going to make a case to my boss that I deserve to be promoted if I keep making stupid mistakes because I'm overwhelmed, and my overwhelm is caused by my anxiety which causes more anxiety. Which further fuels the imposter syndrome and makes me feel like a piece of shit. It's like if I am not constantly receiving positive feedback, I fill that void with every negative feeling I've ever felt about myself and that becomes what everyone else must think of me.

I'm constantly spiraling out about what other people think about me, analyzing their facial expressions and the tone they used when they said something to me. I read between the lines that they must hate me. Why am I like this? I know I've been burned in the past by people and that has made me a little cynical, but is that really the root?

I want to be my authentic self and some people say they love how I'm just my weird self all the time, but I feel like I'm constantly censoring myself, tempering my weird and awkward so they'll like me, afraid I might be too much all at once or I might say or do something embarrassing.

I'm constantly comparing myself to other people. Why can't I be more like them? More chill. More cool. More unafraid.

I don't know how I got this way. I always embraced my quirkiness in school, even when people made fun of me for it. I always just let it roll off my back and did my own thing anyway. And to a point, I still do. But I think their weird looks and whispers seep in deeper and faster these days.

I want to let go and just be me. I want to be truly free from my anxious thoughts and preoccupation with how other people perceive me.

[honeyedwordsandblades]

I don't normally like to just randomly add myself into the middle of other's convos, but... It's been bothering me lately.

How much I just stopped caring about Loki very suddenly recently. How strong it was, then on this ever gradual decline, and then poof, suddenly nothing it felt like.

And I think this post has explained it best. I think it's been a mix between all the bad faith content from Marvel and just a now very broken, fractured, even (immensely) tired fandom. And I too am just... Tired.

Ever since the Loki series, I just- The hope I had for what they could do with the character, the hope for being able to make something amazing, to even turn things around overall (after the Loki series) not just for Loki (the character) is- Well it's gone. The passion that came with such a brilliant, amazing character and story is gone. The character I knew and love is essentially forever gone and never coming back any time soon, if at all, seeing as how they seem so dead set on keeping this new version of the character. And, with the old beloved version of character gone, so too like anon said, did all the magic and excitement and wonder.

With no hope for the future for any good faith MCU Loki, there became a void. I tried my best to fill it with my own little made up stories with my own-self insert. Even some AUs. My version(s) of Loki. (And one day I will come back and write them all out. Hell, turn them into comic adaptions myself like I also wanted to.) But there was nothing to hold onto. Just a hopeless void. This post helps put that all into perspective for me now.

That's why Baldur's Gate 3, and much more importantly, Astarion, was able to just sweep right in and fully consume me, heart and soul, completely and entirely.

Because there was a passionless void just waiting, desperately wanting to be filled. And in came Larian (Studios) with everything Loki fans had always wanted and had lost hope of ever seeing in the MCU, all on a breathtaking, marvelous golden platter. Such a beautifully fantastic fantasy world with very well-written characters, all of whom are treated themselves with respect and dignity. At. Every. Single. Turn. No matter what path you choose.

Each character is so multi-faceted. Their every emotion, their every reaction so realistically portrayed and conveyed (even if it's sometimes hilarious for us the player/viewer.) Every part of their stories are treated seriously, especially the great pain that each one carries deep within them. (And every single one does carry great pain and hardships of their own.) They are- They are each so very humanized.

And who better to exemplify all this than Astarion himself.

You want sass and snark? Sly, devilish smirks and dangerous, alluring eyes? To be seduced with sultry, sweet "whispered" nothings? Checks across the board. Loki lovers would and have fallen in love with this pale elf rouge.

Aaaand, much like Loki himself, it turns out all of this is just a facade, a shield to protect himself with. This poor man has known nothing but suffering and torment for two centuries at the hand of his vampiric master. There's plenty of terrible things he has suffered because of his vampiric master, but won't go into them here. Just know they are all very terrible. (If you don't mind spoilers for the game, you can certainly look it up/watch YouTube clips for yourself.) I will say, however, the most important thing to know about Astarion is that he was forced to go out, seduce, and lure back people. All throughout those 200 years.

With that last bit in mind, here's a video of a scene in Act 3 of BG3 where Astarion speaks of a very terrible and cruel punishment that he had to endure early on in his vampiric life due to purposely disobeying from his vampiric master, Cazador Szarr.

From this scene alone, you can tell that Larian were not afraid of "going there" ever in their game. They refused to shy away and fully leaned into it. Took it seriously. Portrayed it seriously. No jokes or humor to undercut it. Just the raw emotion from the character, from the moment.

This and many, many other scenes in this game reflect that same commitment to story, to characters, to real moments like this.

It's very clear Larian Studios have put not just plenty of time and effort into this (Hello four years in the making!!), but also plenty of passion themselves. (And the actors, and anyone and everyone else involved behind the scenes, and everyone who ever play early access during those 4 years.)

All of this is clearly a far cry from the current MCU who refuses to even give the smallest amount of anything close to this. Barely scraps, if anything at all. No wonder as soon as this game dropped I got sucked into it. Between a hopeless, passionless void and this 5-star Vegas buffet of wonderful storytelling, unquestionably full to the brim with passion (and hope for whatever they do next with this story and possibly these characters!!), I think I know what I would choose every time.

lmao make this [3/2] because I had on more thought: There's a sort of collective mourning/suffering/pain that the entire fandom went through with Loki's death that never healed for a huge part of the fandom specifically BECAUSE it was done in such bad faith and with such deliberate malice towards us. Because of that, it feels like all of the magic and excitement and wonder we all had years ago died with him. We lost our faith in the MCU to create good content for their fans.

^^^^ Go on as long as you like. For me, THIS is the thing. I can do headcanon gymnastics around the other problems with the Disney Plus series, but this is the part that I hate. After Endgame (which I could not even finish), the scrap of "at least he's alive" that I held onto desperately turned into frustration. He got a single ten-second cameo at the end of Antman Quantumania, and other than that has been small-screen--and even that I don't mind because of the new (somewhat regrettable) primacy of media streaming (aided, as so many bad changes have been, by COVID). But the way that Loki's sendoff in Infinity War was so "shut up about this originally one-off villain already, we don't care about the complexities he's come to symbolize for you"...that made me tired and angry and unable to "play along" with what has come ever since. I am not in the right frame of mind.

And here's Tom executive producing what's left, seemingly satisfied wth, even very proud of, it. I get it, people move on, their focus shifts, they become more casual about what used to be a passionate project. As someone who consumes that content, though, I've been uninspired for years. I keep hoping some of it will come back because I'm tired of losing and mourning things. Maybe it will, who knows!

[oigimi]

. arthur, napoleon, and theo with mc's little siblings! .

. aaaa it feels so good to be back! there's some slight romantic undertones between mc and the suitors but it isn't too strong! i also made the siblings younger kids :) .

Arthur

As we know, this womanizing Brit absolutely adores children.

He had many siblings growing up, so he knows exactly how to take care of them.

It’s fun to have a change of pace around the mansion, anyway. Sometimes it can get boring, believe it or not!

So your little siblings are really great for him to have around!

Always looking for an excuse to take off work, he offers you to babysit them while they do their daily mansion chores.

He takes the little tykes to every toy store in Paris.

Arthur is a rich boy, remember?

They leave every store with huge bags of gifts.

Plushies, dolls, toy trains, anything that even remotely piqued their interest, Arthur got them.

And don’t forget the candy store.

That place was not ready for how much business they were about to get.

Arthur probably bought out half the inventory.

It’s amazing that they were able to carry everything home.

When you find out, you're equally shocked and pleased.

On one hand, kids shouldn’t be spoiled for no reason!

But on the other hand, as Arthur explains, their siblings are in a brand new place far away from home, and could probably use something to make them smile and remind them of their home.

You agree, apologize, and thank Arthur for all he did for the kids.

But it doesn’t end there.

The brilliant author found a lot of inspiration in the new housemates.

Aside from writing his least favorite detective series ever, he also wrote a lot of poems and short stories.

So he picks up his pen and writes tons and tons of stories and poems for the kids!

He picks their favorite things and writes each one a personalized anthology of fiction.

Obviously, they’re overjoyed.

They ask you or Arthur to read them one of the stories every night before bed.

And how could either of you say no?

Seeing your siblings so happy, even in this new unfamiliar place, warms your heart and makes you feel safer yourself.

As you leave your siblings’ room, you turn and hug Arthur, thanking him for everything he’s done.

Spoiling your siblings fills a void in his heart.

He never got to do this for his own when he was growing up, so it makes him feel good when he gets to do things for your own.

He’ll always be there for them, and for you.

Napoleon

Like Arthur, he adores kids.

He’s got his school for teaching kids how to defend themselves, amongst other school subjects.

If that’s a school, your siblings get a whole private academy.

Since you’re all living in the mansion, they get access to pretty much any book they could think about having access to is there for them.

He’s already extremely impressed by how smart they are.

He’s not used to seeing young kids even be able to read and write where he grew up, let alone read above their grade level and do math.

Your siblings honestly see Napoleon’s teachings as more of a game than actual school, though.

He’s pretty amused when the youngest asks if they can be the teacher one day.

Unable to say no, he sits down on the floor with the others and listens to the intellectual seminar delivered by this small child.

They even give him homework to do!

But because everyone’s having so much fun, he does it.

And he gets an A+ on his assignment.

They also kind of see his self defense classes as a game too.

They think they’re playing soldiers.

Which they kind of are.

Napoleon gives them toy swords to practice with so they don’t hurt themselves.

They learn real techniques while having lots of fun.

Since they’re pretty young, they don’t really know the gravity of being taught swordsmanship by Napoleon Bonaparte himself.

But who cares, really? They’re having fun.

And you know what happens after a long day of play.

Naptime.

As well as being the champion of fighting, we know Napoleon is the champion of naps.

So it comes to no surprise when you come into the library to dust one day, and you see everyone sprawled out on the floor for a quick snooze.

You grin wide, wishing you had a camera to take a picture of the adorable sight.

Your siblings absolutely love Napoleon.

It seems that the smiles never stop when he’s around.

And his loud, obnoxious laughter is contagious.

Monsieur de Wahaha never fails to get everyone laughing when he bursts into a fit himself.

Sometimes it can seem annoying to have everyone ganging up and laughing at you, but you can’t help but join in yourself.

It’s scary for kids to be in such an unusual situation, so seeing them so happy and comfortable fills you with such joy.

From playtime to naptime, Napoleon is there to make sure your siblings are safe and happy.

And you just can’t thank him enough.

Theo

Theo’s a bit unlike Arthur and Napoleon.

He’s not quite as entertaining and “big brotherly” as they are.

He was the little one growing up, after all.

His upbringing renders him a little unsure how to manage all the kids running around the mansion all of a sudden.

Even though he’s unsure, he knows one thing everyone likes.

Dogs.

Your siblings adore King, and they’re always wanting to rub his belly and play catch with him.

The golden retriever is confused by all the new attention, but you can tell he loves it!

But Theo needs to do more.

Thankfully, there’s always one person he can always turn to for advice.

Big broer Vincent is loaded with wisdom, and he suggests having a little art gallery for the kids to put on.

Theo likes this idea a lot.

So he runs out and gets tons and tons of canvases and paint for your siblings.

He explains to them that in three days, they’re going to show everyone in the mansion everything they paint.

There’s no theme, just make whatever you want.

Your siblings really like this idea, and they even make it into a bit of a contest.

When Theo explains his job as an art dealer, they ask if he can pick out the best painting out of all of theirs.

He says he will, and the winner gets a big stack of pancakes all for themselves.

Naturally, this boosts the competitive spirit.

They work as hard as they can to create the most vibrant, captivating, innovative piece of art they can possibly put out.

As the kids work, Theo realizes he can’t pick a favorite out of all of them.

Each kid put in so much work and dedication into each one, and it would crush them if they didn’t win the contest.

The night before the gallery, Theo makes a stack of pancakes for each one and hides them.

Everyone is captivated by the paintings your siblings made, especially you.

Your favorite is a “family portrait” the youngest made, featuring you, all of them, and Theo.

They explain that they see you with Theo all the time, and tease that you like him.

Flustered, you just laugh it off and continue the gallery.

At the end, the “winner” is revealed.

All the kids are overjoyed when they each get their prize.

It warms Theo’s heart to see them chowing down on his food, thanking him with the biggest grins their cheeks can support.

Maybe he’s doing something right after all.

[seherstudies]

amazarashi 　ベストアルバム『メッセジーボトル』

Note: I recently go amazarashi's メッセジーボトル and from what I understood, every album of the band is accompanied with a short message inside the case. This is my very scuffed translation of the one in メッセジーボトル. It was a huge challenge for me because I suck at translating (poetry)... If there are some mistakes or if you think I misunderstood something, please let me know!

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終わりから始まった僕らに　怖いものなんて何もなかった 旅路に宛はなく　ここじゃないどこかを探す 雨風にたゆたう　波間にメッセじーボトル

For us, who began at the end, there was nothing that could fright us. This journey has no end goal. We were simply looking for a somewhere that is not here. Messages in a bottle amidst the waves, drifting in rain and wind.

恒久的な欠落を　埋めようともがくあの日の覚悟。 あれから七年後　ようやく辿り着いたこの岸辺へと 正解でも　間違いでも　それがわかるのはどうせ未来。 そう言って託した未来に今立って　結局言えることなんて何一つなくて

There was a resolve on that one day, to try to fill up the permanent void. Seven years after that, I finally find myself at the shore. Whether it is right or wrong, only time will tell. But standing now in the future that I was entrusted with, there is nothing I can say in the end.

吐き出す度に磨り減り　抗う度に傷つき けど、それ故の気付き　書き留めるだけの日々 空白を埋める生き死に　手を差し伸べてくれた導き 手放した分の重み　背負い歩き続ける意味

I vomited and became worn out. I resisted things and got injured. But a realisation led me to write down messages day after day. For them, to act as a guidance that reach out to the living and dying to fill their void. Messages about the meaning of continuing with heavy burdens on your shoulders and about letting them go.

何か変わると信じて託した言葉　音の間。 過去から見れば　今日の僕が合わせるつじつま 五分四十秒答え合わせ　過ぎた時間こそ笑え 「間違ってなかった」という為の今日だ

When things change, believe in the words that were entrusted to you through the music. Judging prom the past, the you of today is just fine. You may have taken five minutes and forty seconds to compare your answers your journey has brought, but just laugh at the time that has passed. Today is the day to say, "I wasn't wrong."

逃げ道でもない　感傷でもない　凍る夜に　縋り付ける温み そういう記憶だけを思い出と呼んで　還らぬと決めたらまた旅路へ戻れ 今日だってどうせやまない雨　運命と呼ばれる全てを疑え 降らば降れと天を睨みつけ　どうか光へ進め

These words are not meant to be an escape route nor a sentimentality, but a warmth that embraces the freezing night. Call on memories like these only. If you decide to not return to your old self, then once again commence your journey. Even if it keeps raining today, doubt everything called fate. "Rain! If you must fall, fall!" glare at the sky and continue forward to the light.

Below are grammar and vocab notes.

【GRAMMAR】

Nだって: 'even'; the more casual version of でも Difference between でも and さえ: the first one is for adequate examples while さえ; for more info, this post is great

VようとV: 'in an attempt to do'; for more info about ～ようと～ check out and again, for more info, have this post

Aから見れば: 'If you look at it from A's point of view'; if A is a person, it expresses a judgment or estimation from that person's point of view. It A is a state or situation, it expresses a judgement based on that situation

あ- Stem + ば: ～らば means なら, except that it's an old pattern. Nowadays it's mostly used in very stilted speech and implies "Let it go" or "I don't care". Two common expressions are:

死なば死ね: Let them die if necessary; I don't mind if they/you/I die

笑わば笑え: If they laugh at me, let them do so (I don't care)

【VOCABULARY】

旅路 （たびじ）– route you travel on 宛 （あて）– recipient of a letter or gift たゆたう - to drift about 波間（なみま）- interval between the waves, gap between waves

恒久的 （こうきゅうてき）– permanent, perpetual, lasting 欠落（けつらく） - missing, lacking 埋める (うめる) to bury (e.g. in the ground); to fill up (e.g. audience fills a hall) もがく – to struggle 覚悟 （かくご）– readiness, preparedness 辿り着く （たどりつく）- to arrive at (after a struggle), to finally reach, to find one's way to, to finally hit on (e.g. an idea) 岸辺（きしべ）- shore 託す （たくす）- to have someone deliver (a message, parcel, etc.), to send (through someone), to leave (a message) with someone

吐き出す（はきだす） – to vomit, to spit out 磨り減る （すりへる）- to be worn down, to be reduced 抗う （あらがう）- to go against, to fight against, to oppose, to resist, to deny 傷つく （きずつく）- to be wounded, to get injured; to get hurt feelings それ故（それゆえ） – therefore, for that reason, so, because of that 書き留める （かきとめる）– to write down 空白 （くうはく）– blank space (in documents)；Lack of a part of a continuing thing 生き死に （いきしに）– life and death; life or death 差し伸べる （さしのべる）– to hold out, to extend (one’s hands), to stretch 導く （みちびく）– to guide, to lead, to show the way 手放す （てばなす）– to let go of, to release; to part with eg a posession, person 背負う（せおう）– to carry on one’s back; to be burdened with 辻褄を合わせる（つじつまをあわせる）- make sense. match the logic.

逃げ道 （にげみち）– no way out 感傷 （かんしょう）– sentiment, sentimentality 縋り付く （すがりつく）– to cling to, to embrace 記憶 （きおく）– memorz, recollection; memory 還る （かえる）– to return, to return back to earth 疑う（うたがう）- to doubt, to distrust() 睨みつける（にらみつける）- to scowl at, to glare at

[astroaquarium]

Moon in Astrology: Who are you really?

the moon sign tells us how and the moons house tells us where;

who are you really...

Aries Moon:

🐯 you are very childlike and youthful-young at heart, you never want to grow up and deal with real world adult life

🐯 you are extremely passion driven, you see something you like and you stop at nothing to get it

🐯 you are a very impatient person, you want what you want and you want it now-its hard for you to stay in one spot or in one mood you are always moving forward

🐯 you struggle most with anger, it consumes you, makes your blood boil-there is an untammed rage that lives inside you

🐯 your mother may have been very childlike and have aggressive temper tantrums or alternatively been extremely driven, loving, and passionate

Taurus moon:

👛 you are grounded and reality focuesed, your feet are firmly on the ground so much so it is hard for you to ever really relax

👛 you find it hard to keep motivated, and match others pace, you like to take it easy and go at your own pace-you do not work well under pressure

👛 you struggle with overindulgence. this could be food-related, money related, drugs, anything. It is a coping mechanism which you use to fill emotional voids.

Gemini moon:

👭 you are deeply afraid of emotional connection, you avoid it at all costs, because you dont know how to relate to others on an emotional level, only intellectual. you lack emotional intellegence and too find it difficult to address ans understand your own feelings let alone others.

👭 you use hummor a lot to deflect. Hummor that is often other-focused, making fun of others, other peoples behaviour, or the external environemnt. Your joking nature can often be regarded as offensive, outlandish or unwarented to some, this is not what you intend, but you dont feel accountable for offending others with who you are. This is purely a mechanism to detract from yourself and the flaws you recognise in yourself.

👭 your mother may have been emotionally distant and not encouraged talking about feelings

Cancer moon:

🐚 you are extremely soft, loving, and giving, but this is a side of yourself you like to keep under wraps. Your emotions are strong, intuitive, and bold, you have a great understanding and knack for relating to others emotionally and can often sense pain and emotional hurt in others. You are a healer, a nurter and a giver-these are great qualities which can sometimes be abused and taken advantage of by others leaving you feeling drained and used.

🐚 you are highly sensitive and words cut deep for you. you take things said to you and about you to heart and can act out in a childish and/or volitile way when you feel attacked. This is a coping mechanism at dealing with your emorional pain which can ultimately leave you feeling even more emotional unrest.

Leo moon:

🌞 you are like sunshine, bold, bright, and full of energy. You are a bit of a primadonna/diva, you give off a lot of confidence, and like to talk yourself up. This is often an overcompensation for an upbringing that was focused on performance. You may only know of how to recieve love and affection from putting on a show.

🌞 you overexaggerate. This is a means to gain sympathy and attention that you so dearly crave. Your mother may have been very self-involved and never gave you the attention you needed.

Virgo moon:

🥗 you are a worry wort, you are constantly on high alert, looking behind your back, on the edge of your seat, in a constant state of over-arousal. You are always anticipating something to go wrong or thinking about what could go wrong, this keeps you up at night.

🥗 you need routine. others like it, or hate it, but you need it for emotional stability. You need to have things exactly how you like them when you like it. Control is a huge thing for you, this could be because your mother was very particular with how she raised you and always stuck with a routine, this may help remind you of a time you felt safe.

Libra moon:

⏳ you are self-unaware. You don’t have the best grasp on who you are, what you want, or what you are about. To cope with this, you seek out qualities in yourself you cant see in others. This means your connections with others are a vital part of your emotional idenity and without these meaningful relationships you crumble.

⏳ you struggle with dependancy on others, when others let you down you feel lost and cheated.

⏳ you may also struggle with disharmony in your relationships, whenever you argue or come into disagreements with others it can be realy damaging to you emotionally because you rely so much on reassurance from others to confirm your idenity. It may also really bother you because conflict is something you like to avoid, you would prefer to disregard your own opinion/feelings if it means you get to keep the peace and avoid the argument.

Scorpio moon:

🦅 you keep your cards close to your chest, your secrets are guarded by your heart, and your vulnerable side is rarely exposed. This is a coping mechanism to avoid disspaoitment and emotional unrest. As although you are a deeply emotional individual and feels things on a intense level, it scares you, who you are and what you feel are intensely overwhelming and this is something you want to keep burried deep within.

🦅 you are emotionally manipulative at worst and at best extremely emotionally intellegently tactful. you understand emotions very well, are extremely intiuitive, and can feel vibes and undercurrents that others cannot pick up on. This can make it very easy for you to take advantage of others emotional state to your advantge, or alternatively provide in-depth counselling and targted advice.

Sagittarius moon:

🏹 you are free-spirited and wise. You are naturally exapnsively minded, you are open to new things and new challenges more than most people, you are a risk-taker, and don’t fear the consequences of your rash actions.

🏹 you are emotionally void of expressing your feelings in a way that can be understood and heard by others. As you would rather deflect using hummor/running away or any other way possible. You don’t like to dwell on negative feelings, however you embrace and overexaggerate the positive ones.You are an optimist, almost depricatingly so that you don’t accept negative facts of reality.

Capricorn moon:

⚔️ you are practical, driven, goal-orientated and very prideful. Your extremely driven, which is what makes you so hungry for success in material form, whether that be wealth/trophies/awards/property/power/fame, you want something tangible you can show ofd for your hard work. This can sometimes be easy for you to neglect other areas in your life and see to emotional coldness/distance. You see feelings as time-wasteing, impratcial and a burden onto others. You wouldn’t want to worry/annoy others with your problems.

⚔️ your mother may have been absent or not very emotionally present in your life or taken on the role of the father, or may have been raised by a single parent. This may have made it hard for you to ever feel like you can be emotionally vulnerable with a care giver who was too busy or not present.

Aquarius moon:

🦩 you are unlike anyone else, you have a different way of seeing the world to others and often for this feel misunderstood. You may struggle with feelings of alienation, and often feel lonely, like no one can ever truely understand you.

🦩 you are an activist, a humanitarian, and have some very strong beliefs that you firmly stand by. You stand up for the underdog when no one else will because that who you identify with most.

🦩 highly stubborn, things are often your way or the highway. you dont shy away from confrontation nd in fact love to hammer your point home. this can get you into trouble.

🦩 you are emotionally closed-off, not because you are unemotional because you feel intensely and on a global scale, but because you don’t understand them. you are intellectually dominated, you think too hard, its hard for you to verbalise or understand emotions.

Pisces mooon:

🔮 you are soulful, an old soul, artsy, and often psychic. You feel on a mass scale, you are an emotional spounge-picking up on the undercurrents and vibrations of others. this can leave you in a very vulnerable state of being taken asvantage of as well as beinf emotionally abused and drainned because you take on so much of others pain.

🔮 likewise you are very sefless, you would do anything for those you love without thinking about how it affects you, always putting others wants and needs before your own.

🔮 you can be prone to addiction, either alcohol or drug abuse, or something completely different; shopping, money, sex, eating etc.

where this is expressed...

1st house: who you really are is shown on the outside, you dont hide who you are or pretend to be someone youre not. you are true to yourself.

2nd house: who you really are is shown in your values, you are what you value. your possessions reflect your true self, you buy and collect material items that express yourself and how you feel.

3rd house: who you really are is shown in how you communicate and talk to others. You express yourself and how you feel in the way you write and talk and how you interact with your siblings-they know the real you.

4th house: who you really are is shown in how in your private space, this could be your home, your room, a place where you feel safe and comfortable, your family know the real you.

5th house: who you really are is shown in your creative purisuits, what you do for fun, and how you express yourself creativly is where your heart really lies.

6th house: who you really are is shown in how you schedule your day and go about your mundane everyday chores, also in how you care for your pets-they know the real you.

7th house: who you realy are is shown in your partnerships; romantic and professional. you enter partnerships with people who you possess qualities you dont recognise in yourself.

8th house: who you really are is shown in your secrets and what you keep hidden from others.

9th house: who you really are is shown in your belifs religious or otherwise.

10th house: who you really are is shown in your reputation, or what you are striving to achieve.

11th house: who you really are is shown in your friendships, and how you feel about the collective.

12th house: who you really are is shown in your subconcious, dreams, and other altered states.

[clemjolichose]

Okay, I finally wrote on @quodekash 's demus/dukeceit prompt. The thing is: it's wrecked and maybe too personal. So hear me out: Roman is an antagonist here and the words he says are words spoken by my own sister in the very same situation as Remus was in. I was a depressed child and I'm now a depressed adult, and it fucked me up as bad as I write it. This one-shot is *extremely* self-indulgent and probably has no sense.

TW: discussing death, suicide, blood, mental illness, self-harm, (familial) abuse, sanism/ableism, mental hospital, sex (mention of genitals) and please tell me if I'm missing any.

Enjoy ❤

My mother never told me why my heart, my blood-pumping organ, one day floated into the clouds never to be seen again.

My brother, my twin, we have the same face, the same eyes, the same body and sometimes the same mind, but not the same heart. He was always telling me to eat mine out, whatever the situation was. Drawing, singing, performing, dancing, writing... It was like what I did never was good enough, and when I tried to complain I was only silenced. So that I did: I ate my heart out. Bottled up all my resentment towards my own blood. I knew our mother would never admit Roman is her favourite, I knew I would never be enough while they would never say it out loud. And maybe it is true, maybe I'm not good enough, deserving of all the praise and love and awards Roman has received through his life. I'm stuck with being Peter Pan's shadow no matter how hard I'm trying to escape. I guess that what I do isn't good, nor sane.

I remember drawing eyes and crosses and tears and writing shit on a piece of paper out of boredom, it didn't really mean anything, it looked like a shit tons of crap that made no sense; to me it was the most self-representative drawing I had ever made. But what do I know? I was just a brainless teen that couldn't even draw a straight line. It's not that I can't, it's really that I don't want to. Huge difference there. So I was writing and drawing and scraching tge paper trying to paint my emotions because boredom just makes you do shit like that, it makes you think about your heart, and when you find emptiness, there's a void for your thoughts to fill. And oh boy, they filled it so well... And then I looked at my work, an artwork I could finally be proud of, a masterpiece that looked like me... I felt content, happy even. I felt calmer and found myself smiling, and this smile had faltered as soon as my brother looked at the paper. He snorted and shouted with arrogance:

"Stop drawing that, it's freaking me out. Mom and dad will throw you in a mental hospital! It's ugly anyway."

What monster would say that to their friend? Because I truly believed, once upon a time, that we were friends. Not so much anymore, huh? And when my parents acquiesced, I knew I needed to get out as soon as possible. I felt unsafe and unreasonably angry. At what? Everything. It was all bullshit anyway. Love your family? They would eat your flesh if it was covered in candy, and mine must have been delicious. Hatred settled in the cavity of my chest, slowly taking out the love I once felt for them. It's still there to this day, the love, and maybe I would forgive them as soon as I get an apology. Or not even an apology, you know? Maybe I would try to comply to their standards again if I ever see them once more. But that's why I left, right? I left to never deal with their shit again, to live my true self and who cares if it's someone of madness? I don't! I actually love it. I love thinking about arson and getting to draw their house on fire. I love feeling suicidal- well, not good phrasing, but hear me out: feeling suicidal is not great, but being able to put words and drawings upon it? And then feeling relieved because the very image of yourself bleeding out that was stuck in your head for days on end while you couldn't get out of bed was finally realised in some ways? Best feeling in the world.

Not quite, though. There is an even better feeling I got to indulge myself in: being mentally ill with someone who cares.

I met Janus when I finally got out of the house. I was 20, with no clothes and only my drawing stuff, trying to live my own life instead of someone else's because being the brother of Prince Roman™️ wasn't meant for me, and I think it's not meant for anyone. Life is an ass but at least it sometimes gives you a dick to ride on, non-sexually. Pleasant metaphors aren't my strong suit.

But at least Janus doesn't mind. He doesn't mind anything I do, in fact. From the first time I met him and through years of intimacy, he never judged me for the blood, the tears and the urge to rip my skin off and crack my skull open (or his, affectionately). He's supporting me, actually. When I'm at a low point because depression is a bitch, when I start hallucinating monsters more terrifying than my own imagination, when all is black, he is the one to put a brush or a pencil in my hand and to toss me in front of a white blank canva, where I can represent anything. What a dream. What a dream, right? A dream, it's just a dream, it must be a dream, it has to be a dream, it cannot be anything but a dream, a fucking dream, ah! But he holds me oh so gently, he talls to me slowly, and stroke my hair like my mother should have, and he tells me I'm real. I'm real. Am I? It's "cogito ergo sum" after all, not "morior ergo sum". How can I be sure? He kisses me, on my forehead, on my temple, on my cheek, on my nose, on my jaw, on my neck, on my chest, on my hands, on my lips, he would have kissed my feet if I didn't have my boots on, and he says:

"Do you even want to? You can float. You can be a god."

I know it's a lie but this is what's comforting. It's lies that never disguise themselves around me, it's destructive imagination that matches mine in the most fucked up and beautiful ways, it's the doors to Heaven slightly opening in front of me because a creature of God loves me and I can love it back. The snake who tempted was once a loving being, too. It gives me hope, it gives me ideas that do not rely solely on my pain - though it is my greatest muse - and how would great poets have written their masterpiece if they weren't a little bit dying too? People say I have a peculiar way of thinking, in a strange, scary way, just like my parents said, just like my brothers shouted and his voice still resonates in my ears to this day. At least, now, it is covered in the sweet praises of Janus, it is nothing but muffled echos of distant wailing, hushed by the need to hear my sweet lover describing my latest drawing without using "madness", "demented" or "hospital". And I thought it was untrue, but it really takes one person to make a world, a world of freedom and oh my God I can be myself, oh Lord I can love, oh Jesus I can hate because those who have wronged me were the ones judging while I was a lost lamb. There is something divine in a love that heals even the most wrecked soul, a heartless one, that awaits to rejoice with its blood-pumping organ every single day withoit crossing the bridge yet. Now is not the time. Tomorrow? Maybe. Let's wait and see.

[simplyotometrash]

Some Obey Me Headcanons!

Part One!!

Lucifer

Lucifer has always been the dad sibling. After each of his brothers were “born” while they were angels, he was the one to raise and teach them everything.

It’s common knowledge that Mammon is his favorite. Even if he hates to admit it. He’s hardest on Mammon because it’s the only thing he knows how to do anymore.

Despite the fact that they don’t seem to get along because of Mammon’s antics, Lucifer only ever confides some of his most pent up feelings to the second born. 

The only other person he confides in this deeply is MC.

Before the fall, Belphie was his second favorite brother. Even after things have settled after Belphie was free again, he can never look at the youngest the same.

All he wants is for his brothers to be happy and live on. Even if it means working himself into the ground for their sakes.

He doesn’t ask for help. Help has to be forced upon him.

With how much he works, even at home, it’s not uncommon to find him napping with a pen in hand at his desk and his head on his paperwork.

He wishes he had done better raising Satan. He blames himself for their strained relationship, but he feels as if it is too late to truly fix it.

Sometimes he also wishes he had raised Satan as his son and not his brother, considering Satan was born from his wrath.

Children, for some reason or another, flock to him.

His control issues and needing to know everything that happens under his roof stems from the trauma of the war, the fall, and what happened with Lilith. 

It’s his deepest fear that he will lose his brothers and be completely and utterly alone.

A bisexual mess of a demon. No one can convince me he doesn’t have at least a small crush on Diavolo. 

Mammon

Oh the second born brother. He just wants to see everybody happy. But he always messes up and ends up making people angry instead.

He has severe impulse control issues, hence why he’s broke all the time. It isn’t that he doesn’t want to save his Grimm, I headcanon that his sin of Greed compels him to spend. It controls him and so he struggles to keep money. 

But by gods does he have great luck with gambling. Get him going and he will win big every single time.

But keep that money where he can’t just grab it or else he will be compelled by his sin to buy things.

He doesn’t even want most of the things he buys. His sin took root in that empty space left from the fall and being cast out by the one he called his father. 

His sin pushes him to try and fill that void with objects and money when really he just wants someone’s love.

After centuries of being called scum and a degenerate because of something he has little control over, he gave up trying and gave into just being his sin.

He cries easy but only to MC or Lucifer. He won’t show his tears to any of his other brothers. Maybe Beel sometimes. But only sometimes.

He knows Lucifer’s most precious and deepest secrets. He’s his brother’s confidant. But he doesn’t even breathe a word of these secrets to anyone else.

He tries so hard to get attention, so he does stupid shit. After falling to Devildom, his family was changed forever. So any attention is good attention even when it’s him being punished. 

MC is the one who showed him positive love and attention again. It is one of many reasons he sticks to their side like fucking super glue to skin.

He’s actually a total mom-friend, though you wouldn’t guess it. You’d think he is the type to get drunk and pass out at a party? His alcohol tolerance is actually much higher than he lets on. He cleans up and takes care of people after they’ve all passed out.

Leviathan

He wasn’t nearly as anxious and against socializing before falling to Devildom. He retreated into himself out of fear of the unknown world they had all fallen into after the war.

He has an anxious attachment style. He knows it isn’t healthy. It’s rooted in the trauma that losing Lilith created.

The longer he stayed closed in on himself, the worse his anxiety got. To the point he became a recluse. 

He fears getting close to someone. He feels insecure in relationships, not just in himself. He doesn’t feel like he’s good enough.

He’s had relationships in Devildom before, but the first one ended poorly and it only made things worse for how he saw himself. The demon only dated him because of who he was, and preferred his status as the Grand Admiral of Hell’s Navy. Not as who he really is. 

The few relationships that came after all ended before they really could begin because his anxiety monster was screaming that he wasn’t really good enough. That they only ever pursued him for who he was in status and power.

MC’s persistence to become his friend is what made him begin to do some self-reflection.

They tried so hard to become friends with him, they put so much effort into him, and they encourage him to just be himself. If they do all of that, maybe he really is enough as he is.

He does try to step outside of his comfort zone more because MC opened his eyes to the truth of himself. 

But baby steps are needed.

He taught himself how to code just so he could make games. He got bored after making one and preferred playing to creating.

He doesn’t actually hate Mammon. Their little rivalry traces back to when they were angels and still growing up, competing for Lucifer’s attention. He actually loves his brother very much, despite how irritate he gets.

His envy is its own thing. It took root within his insecurities and has a voice all its own. It used to be so loud that he couldn’t think. But the growth he’s had since MC came into his life helped quiet that voice down a lot.

He’s closest with Satan and Asmo, feeling like he doesn’t fit with his older two or youngest two brothers anymore. 

Satan

He knew from day one that he wasn’t like the rest of his brothers. He was always different. Born a demon, never once an angel. He knew that they weren’t truly his brothers.

All he ever wanted was for Lucifer to be his father. Not his brother. 

Lucifer once was his hero, the person he admired and respected with all his might.

As he got older, his wrath only grew with him. And his anger at Lucifer grew as well.

He wanted to find himself as separate from Lucifer. He knew where he’d come from. But everyone treated him as if he were just some offshoot of Lucifer. He wanted to be his own person. For everyone to see that. It fueled his anger and built the wall that came between them.

He’s an excellent shoulder for comfort. He often comforts Levi when he breaks down or provides reassurance to Asmo.

These three are the middle children, they stick together.

He was alive when the Library of Alexandria was burned. Even though he wasn’t supposed to go to the human realm, he saved some texts from the library and keeps them safe.

The real reason he wears his jackets the way he does is just like when you’re in bed. If it’s full on with both sleeves, he’s too hot. If he doesn’t have it on at all he’s too cold. So one arm in a sleeve and one arm not in a sleeve.

Asmo has tried and failed to give this boy fashion help. He refuses to take it. He thinks he looked like an intellectual (for the love of god please lose the black undershirt at least, Satan).

He carries cat treats and cat food in his bag at all times in case he comes across a kitty in need.

He has sneaked many cats into the House of Lamentation. Lucifer knew the entire time but let Satan have a few days before he “found out” about the cats.

His wrath has burned strong for so long, even when he was passive, that he didn’t know what it was like to feel calm. But MC’s very presence sends a wave of peace right to his very core. 

Asmo

If you’re insecure and you know it clap your hands. 

Levi might seem like the king of insecurity, but Asmo takes the cake.

He masks his insecurities with what people think is narcissism and over confidence. He puts on a show so nobody knows how he really sees himself.

Lust was always shoved down his throat as sexual only. So he went with it. He was supposed to be the Avatar of Lust. To be what was expected of him and to make sure he was liked, he did what he thought everyone wanted.

And it turned him into someone he never wanted to be. He didn’t know how to find himself again.

He isn’t nearly as sexual and lewd as everyone thinks. He’s touchy and clingy, yes, but touch is his love language.

When he’s hurt or doesn’t feel well, if he’s had a bad day, if he’s sad- all he wants is to be held by the person he loves and who loves him. He wants to hold hands or link arms. He wants to wrap his arms around them all the time. 

But because everyone in Devildom only saw him as a sex symbol, he had to bury his truest desires. He had a persona to keep up. 

While he does love to take care of himself, he used to break mirrors because he was so sick of who he had become. It took a lot of time for him to get through it. 

His MC is the only one who wasn’t tainted by his power. A power that seemed to just be active all the time whether he wanted it or not.

Everyone was all over him but it wasn’t as if he could control it. His sin was always active, it attracted people.

But MC wasn’t interested or affected. 

And that was what was most attractive to him. 

They saw him for who he was and encouraged him to just be the true Asmo. Not the Asmo everyone wanted to see.

He is excellent at sewing. He loves making his own accessories and clothing from his own designs. 

He’s ambidextrous. You think that the king of fashion only uses one hand? Darling, if he only used one hand then his homework would never get done. He write with one hands and be painting his toes with the other. 

One of the few people that can get Levi out of his room to hang out. They’ve always been close. Sometimes he does that just so the others can get Levi’s laundry and dirty dishes.

He’s the most emotionally open and stable of the brothers. He’s made peace with his inner monsters and can coexist with them. He’s also surprisingly good at advice. 

Can and will break into Lucifer’s study to make the eldest relax because he’s working too har.

He has bobby pins on him at all times. Not just for fashion but for lockpicking! He can be clever and beautiful!

[arcadejohn127-9]

Hi! This is my first time requesting so I dont know if this is correct but headcanons of the brothers if the MC asks if they have eaten human meat before?? You can ignore this if your uncomfortable with this, have a great day! :))

I only don't write certain triggering things like sewerslide, self ouchie and forced devils tango - I know these are very non serious ways to censor these sensative topics but I would like to avoid triggering anyone

I know some people just shut down just by hearing it or seeing the word and it's really unfortunate

So yes, I'll take your request!

Warning: food, blood, gore-ish?, eating, teeth, human consumption, hallucinations and angst

It was dinner; you were having a fatty steak with garlic bread and a creamy seasoned sauce that the meat was cooked in and chewy dough balls filled cheese. The brothers wanted a meat dish and it was your turn to cook so you got human world ingredients to give everyone what they wanted.

You weren't sure what was eating at you. For the past few days stress as been at an all time high! You've become irrationality emotional to every situation which didn't help as you were experiencing mini hallucinations and continuous tricks on the eyes.

You hoped cooking and getting your mind off whatever was happening around you would help but it seems to be a futile attempt.

You set the table, making sure to add extra vegetables for asmo and levi. As soon as dinner was announced all the boys came trampling through the halls to reach the table first, Beel beating them by already being at the door. He was waiting there feeling himself drool whilst you cooked. Once everyone was seated you smiled, taking your seat and began to eat.

Your appitete diminished the more you chew. Finding it to be unfufilling. Your stomach felt like a void and the food only made that feeling more present. You poked at your food with a growing frown.

You heard a fleshy squelch.your eyes flickering up to see Satan; his sharp teeth sinking into the steak. He easily ripped it apart letting any sauce from the meat drip down his chin. For most of the demons it was medium rare; blood mixing in with the sauce. You could still see pink on the inside. When he bit into it it looked so soft with left over blood forming at the bite.

It was so fleshy. For a moment the steak slice turned into an arm. Just a slice of human flesh; his fangs ripping into it as if it was nothing. Apart of your arm ached just from the sight.

You shook your head, rapidly blinking. You hesitantly looked back up and it faded back to normal. These kind of hallucinations were popping up more often; you were terrified. It was putting you off food because you couldn't stop seeing it as something disgusting.

Asmo raised his voice, a sound of a knife stabbing down on a plate following it. You looked to see he stabbed the space between Beels fingers as he tried to steal a dough ball. But that didn't stop him, curling a finger around it and quickly detracted his hand. His brother huffed chomping down his vegetables.

Your eyes couldn't leave Beels figure; it was as if you had to see what he was doing.

Once again your eyes focused on the teeth. Beels fangs were the biggest out of Everyone meanwhile Satan's were long and thin. Levi's teeth reminded you of a shark. Mammons were like a cat with the focus on his top fangs. Asmo's teeth were the most human, reminding you of a vampire. Lucifers teeth were like Satan's but not as long. Belphegor was similar to his twin brother.

Your tongue poked along your smooth teeth. A few bumps here and there and the little prick from your canines. It was nothing compared to them.

Time seemed to freeze as his teeth sank into the ball. It squished with the juices from the cheese and the sauce forming on the flesh- flesh? It wasn't flesh. No it was dough. You held back a scream when you saw an eye replace the dough ball. You immediately snapped away your gaze.

"(Y/N), You haven't been eating."

All of them looked at you. Noticing how little was eaten on your plate. You could see the concern on their faces but your brain slowed. The words leaving your mouth before you even realized it.

"Have any of you eaten a human before?"

The air became thick. It made you choke, a knot forming in your throat as you stared at your plate. Waiting for their answer. Hoping they'll answer. Why aren't they saying anything?!

"That's an unpleasant question, what's prompted this?"

You wanted to say you weren't sure but then memories flashed before your eyes. The threats you've gotten from Beel, asmo telling you're delicious after nipping your skin, mammons stomach suddenly growling after hiding his head in your skin. This what has been bothering you.

You were frightened - no terrified you were going to end up on this table. Striped and ready on a silver platter for them to dig in. Would they do it whilst your alive? Desiring to feel you squirm between their teeth or would they be merciful? Killing and cooking you. A Morbid part of you wished they made you into a good meal if they did that; to not let your body go to waste and mean nothing other than something to tear into.

You felt sick. Your stomach churning the more you thought but you couldn't shut off your brain.

"Just.....curious, you're demons afterall so I thought it would make sense."

All of them were uncomfortable. They knew what they've done in the past and some in the more recent times. But what is recent and past to beings who've forgotten time? Where procrastination could last centuries and no one would bat an eye. What was hundreds years for humans could feel like a week to them.

"I'm going to tell them-" Belphie piped in but immediately got shut down by his brothers.

"don't ya dare even utter another word, you can't frighten them like this-!"

"Are you crazy?! They're never going to want to be around me again!"

"Don't be disgusting, this shouldn't even be a topic we talk about right now!"

"Keep your damn mouth shut."

"You'll frighten them, they already look unwell."

"That's enough, all of you, you're not doing anything to soothe-"

"Would you eat me?!" You suddenly stood up, looking at all of them with an expression of fear and determination.

They just stared at you absolutely stunned by your question.

"No way! We wouldn't do such a thing to you! We care too much about ya to do something like!"

"so if I didn't mean anything would you eat me? Atleast give me some comfort and tell me you'd kill me before you did it-!"

But none of them could give you that comfort. They knew they eat it with their prey still crying and thrashing for their lives.

"You don't need to worry about such a thing, you're going to experience no harm from us or anyone in the Devildom, we've made sure of it."

You shook your head. "Just answer my questions! If you're innocent then you'll just be able to say no! So do it! Say no!"

"We've all eaten a human but since the exchange program was planned we were banned from doing it - we've lost the taste for human flesh or... atleast I have."

His eyes skimmed over his brothers faces, lingering on the ones he knows still hunger for it.

"I think I need to take a break from here....…just need to get away-"

Your voice trailed off, your vision becoming fuzzy. Their faces contorted and stretched into monstrous beings. You stumbled back before your eyes rolled back, your body falling to the floor.

"(Y/N)-!!!"

When you finally woke up you weren't in the house of lamentation. Simeon crouched beside you, placing a damp towel on your cheek. You whined at the cold feeling; it made your burning skin sting.

you weren't sure how or when you got here. The angel helped you slowly lay down, caressing your skin.

"It's okay, Solomon will be back soon, Diavolo said it'll be best you go back home for a little while, don't worry I'll be sure to visit."

You nodded, your head feeling like a sack of bricks balancing on your neck. You let your eyes close as Simon kept brushing the towel on your exposed skin. Humming an unfamiliar tune.

[souleaterpostanime]

Think the problem has several levels. Firstly peeps these days (or probably in most time periods) are just socialised that things like "art" only are valuable by how much they can get out of them. Be it money or whatever, but any number works, including reblogs. Basically, to prove to others (and themsevles) that they aren't wasting their time they want to get "tangible" proof of it, and reblogs fill that void by having something that says "Look somebody liked it so it means it isn't worthless!"

Especially if you do some niche shit that you cant even talk about real life when asked where you spend all your time, the validation probably feels great to quench any self doubt or thoughts about being stupid and worthless for doing the thing you do.

The other thing is, that even without any talk about "the system", people just naturally want community, they are happy when sharing and being apreciated, that their ideas resonate with people and breach the bubble of their own subjectivity. Like if you do some story that you find meaningful, you want that people apreciate it, because part of the human experience and its beauty is community, friendship, dialect and two-sided recognition. Without that most people can even go crazy ( I sure start too lol😂)

But maybe the best explanation would be an example - Imagine a kid who gets bullied at school, who feels insecure about themselves and then finds a community online, that atleast on a surface level, claims to be all about understanding, empathy, apreciation and inclusivity. So they share their heart and soul, but mobody cares. Ofcourse the adult thing would be to understand that you cant force people to like what you like, to make them just feed your ego, but we are talking about kids here (or people with childlike mentalitys, and with the whole trend of "adulting" being a thing, I think its safe to say alot of grown ups still in a way feel and also act in a way that isn't optimal for their developmental age)

With all this said, one could say, why people then aren't happy with "likes", and here I think comes in the fact that unspoken rules and social conventions evolve no matter if one wants or not - people here atleast often seem to have the mindset that a like is more of a pity, an expression of condesension of saying "what you do is crap, but I feel bad enough for you so I press this little heart so.you may not slit your wrists". Ofcourse the complainers is in a paradoxical position - if people would start giving them reblogs instead of likes, that would also only be out of pity and a next level of "real" appreciation would evolve that would show who really are the winners and losers of this social hierachy (yes, nomater how absurd that sounds, many probably see even this half dead app.this way😂)

Anyways, in a way I am projecting, cause I know the feeling of wanting to get recognition, of being seen for having vision, ect. Even for me it took longer than I wanted to grow out of it. So thats why I write - to show that these people are mostlg misguided, but that they have a kind of logic to their error. But the real problem is that they dont have a way to overcome it - even most of the stuff that is popular these days has the message "of believe in yourself so all your dreams can come.true!!!" People are tought that everything is also in a way meaningless, so status is the only way for them to feel worthwhile - "If everyone is a sack of flesh, atleast I want to be the sack of flesh everybody worships!!"

If I wanted to get really pretentious, I think the modern trend of caring about ones "subjective expression" parodoxically made it harder for people to value their subjective experience without somebody validating it. Like if you believe that what you do is objectivaly valuable, you dont care if everybody else spits on you and doesnt get it - but once you say everybody is right, nobody is anymore, and the only thing that sticks is the spit on your face.

The best cure for all of this is learning to create for the "void" - doing something because one sees the true value of it, no matter how absurd it is in the face of the social reality of their time. Like "Moby Dick" which was seen as a farce and laighed at when written and only became apreciated in the years to come, long after the authors death. The same can be said about works forgotten till now, who knows maybe in a hundred years, a thousand, a billion they will be apreciated in the end of history, maybe in some kind of paradise that is to come, that one may call a delusion, or maybe just by the spirit of truth, that even if silent, speaks to you in eternity. Bruh

Oh, also after all that ramble, I think the economic reallity is a factor - with, atleast in many countries in the west, there is the contradiction that most labor is kind of pointless or parasitic, yet people are only valued by how much they make. And often thats the only way they can survive - so thats why one cant just be a construction worked and then come home and draw their AU were Aphex Twin is a K-pop idol. Basically people are desperate to escape some bullshit job at a.telecenter, and they think reblogs are the first step to becomming a "proffesional artist/writer/entertainer/worthless lazy bum who plays videogames" Maybe Im not explaining it well but that whole topic is a large can of worms that nobody except me and a few fringe weirdos care about lol.

Anyways, dunno why I even responded, when I'm just trying to use tumblr as an archive and not as some parasocial thing, guess I just said fuck it why not. Guess I thought the question and mindset of it was interesting and one can say a lot of it. Anyways if I wasted anybodys time that.actually read all this - yeah, sorry

(Ironically this little excuse on the end is another example and reason why people want endgadgment - they want to not be seen as weirdos that just wasted their time, that only care about shit nobdoy else cares,.and even resort to writting self-depraciating meta jokes at the end)

A post with an undescribed image and it says "half this website acts like their nuts will be ripped off with the claw end of a hammer if they reblog a single drawing" bitch I'm going to throw you in a vat of acid.

[crash-cinematic-universe]

tiger lilies, self destructing, and richard siken

pairing: peter maximoff/reader

summary: to peter maximoff, love is an anomaly that scares him more than anything else. however, you might be able to help him overcome his fear.

warnings: language! but that’s about it. kind of cheesy at some points but yknow what im not lactose intolerant

notes: this is the monsterous fic thats been kicking my ass this past week (6.2k words babey!!!) i was originally going to add ~~steamy~~ section to this one but i decided against it to make it readable for those who don’t wanna see that kind of stuff. if you want me to separately publish that then just lmk!!  (if any of yall wanna talk about richard siken to me then please do, his work is so good)

taglist: @stranger-names ,  @gooseyhouse , @parkersdarling​ 

1. 

To Peter Maximoff, physical affection has always been a touchy subject-- no pun intended. His speed is a blessing, but also a bitter curse. He moves at the speed of sound, bouncing off the walls and tearing up the roads; he moves impossibly fast, and no one ever tries to catch up with him. People get tired of Peter rather quickly, not bothering to get attached to him when they know they can’t keep up. 

That’s why it’s so jarringly startling when you decide to stick around. When faced with the grand decision of throwing in the towel and leaving Peter behind or sticking around and trying your best, you chose the latter. It was surprising, to say the least. Peter waited patiently for the distance between the two of you to start growing; he waited for the void you once filled to open up again. However, the void never emptied, and the distance never grew. 

To anyone else, this would be a wonderful experience. Knowing that you wouldn’t be left behind or forgotten about would be comforting to anyone else in Peter’s position. However, this did the exact opposite for Peter. He wasn’t comforted or relaxed, on the contrary, he was always on edge. The future was cruel, and the mystery of it all felt like torture. 

To quote the great Richard Silken, “Someone has to leave first. This is a very old story. There is no other version of this story.” Peter lived and breathed by this ideology, that everyone he loves would have to leave eventually, whether it be by their own volition or not. It was obvious that you didn’t plan on abandoning ship anytime soon, so Peter decided he’d take matters into his own hands. If you weren’t going to be the first one to walk away, then he’d be the one to run away from you. He soon came to learn that loneliness was at its most bitter when you’ve come to taste the sweetness of love. 

Love was a strange, complicated beast that Peter Maximoff had never dealt with before. If he were to be completely honest, love scared him. It scared him more than dying scared him. To Peter, death was an escape. Death was the end of a tiring journey, it was safe and simple and easy. Love was the opposite, it was the mouth of a dragon and the edge of a blade. It was the beginning to something so fragile and powerful, something that could end in flames. 

Peter realized he loved you on a summer afternoon. The sun was shining and you were in the shade. He sat down next to you, and within minutes Kurt and Ororo appeared at your side. They seemed so put together, so sure and strong. Peter felt out of place-- he felt as if he were standing outside of a cabin looking in through the window at your wonderful friendships. He watched with his nose pressed against the glass as you walked across the room and opened the cabin door to let him in. 

Peter realized he was in love with you in the middle of the night. A thunderstorm raged outside the mansion walls and raindrops kept time as Peter walked down the hallway. You were sitting on the floor of the common room next to a dying fire, a book clenched tightly in your hands. For a moment, he just stood against a wall and watched you. As creepy as he felt, a part of him believed he’d ruin your night by making himself known. He was okay with being a fly on the wall if it meant he’d get to see you. Peter wondered if there was a world where he had the pleasure of knowing you, without you having the burden of knowing him. 

Still, you saw him. And you knew him. And you waved him over with a smile. He felt the urge to run, to leave you here alone with yourself, but he stayed put. Then, one step at a time, he moved forward. He got closer and closer before he found himself standing at your feet. 

“You’re welcome to stay,” you told him. He believed it. Peter sat down next to you, letting his shoulder brush against yours.

“What’re you reading?” He asked. Peter already knew what you were reading, he read the cover of the book the moment he sat down, but he still wanted to hear it from you.

“Crush by Richard Siken,”

“Oh. What’s it about?” Peter already knew what it was about. He’d read it at least fifty times.

“It’s kind of hard to explain. I’d much rather just read it to you and let you decide for yourself,” Peter’s stupid little heart lurched, and he almost cried at the thought. He held it together, though. 

“That would be nice,” He said softly. 

“Sorry about all the writing in the margins, I can’t help myself sometimes.” Peter scanned the sides of the pages, marveling at your notes. Some of them were reactions, littered with exclamation points and question marks and bold letters. Some of them were underlined phrases and little doodles-- most notably a little drawing of a chameleon on a tiger lily. He loved them.

“It’s okay. Literature is meant to be marked up-- what’s the point of reading if you don’t get to share the love?”

“That’s a good point,” You grinned. Then, the reading began, and you allowed Peter to rest his head on your shoulder as you read to him. Even though he’d heard the poems a billion times by now, they sounded brand new coming from you. He listened closely. You were arriving at his favorite part, “You are Jeff” section 24. 

“You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and he won’t tell you that he loves you, but he loves you...” You read on, not noticing the way Peter’s eyes had shifted from the book you were holding to your face. Peter’s mind wanders, and he curses himself for missing the lines you were reading “... You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and you’re trying not to tell him that you love him, and you’re trying to choke down the feeling, and you’re trembling, but he reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you’ve discovered something you didn’t even have a name for.” 

Peter felt like he was going to cry. You kept reading and he kept looking. It was getting late, and Peter was getting tired. Your voice had softened and slowed, and the fire that was burning in the fireplace had all but died. Peter was the one that fell asleep first, and you followed closely after. Both of you had lingering smiles on your faces. 

2. 

Intimacy is an odd thing, isn’t it? Thinking critically, intimacy is just vulnerability with more layers. It’s the closeness between people, it’s allowing yourself to connect with someone you care about. It’s stripping yourself down to muscle and bone and hoping the other person doesn’t let you bleed out. It’s a level of trust that is more than closing your eyes and falling backwards; it’s closing your eyes and letting them push you over the edge into the unknown, and trusting them enough to know you’ll be okay when you hit the ground.

It didn’t take long for Peter to realize that he had trouble with being intimate with other people. Too many times had trusted someone to push him over the edge, only to realize he’d be shattered when he hits the ground. After that, he decided intimacy was overrated. It’s not like anyone was going to have that kind of relationship with him, anyway. 

Of course, then you came along and uprooted his entire worldview, like you had with everything else. He found himself thinking about you at every waking moment, which inevitably led to him… thinking about you at every waking moment, if you catch my drift. Sure, intimacy involves more than just physical intimacy, but Peter knows he can’t ignore the feeling that rises in his stomach whenever he’s around you. For the first year or so of your relationship, Peter became very familiar with the feeling of an ice-cold shower. 

What Peter didn’t take into consideration was you. For some reason, Peter struggled to understand the fact that you were just as attracted to him as he was attracted to you. It was no secret that Peter was insecure, but he never really realized how much his insecurity affected his relationships. If he couldn’t love himself, how could anyone else? Peter is the only one who gets to see his persona in its truest form, and every time he has to avert his eyes. It’s safe to say his physical appearance has been the cause of very many painful-- and occasionally tear-filled-- sleepless nights. 

He told you this. He told you everything. He told you about Erik, he told you about his childhood, he told you about everything he loved and hated and feared and yearned for. That ordeal alone was scary enough, knowing that at any moment you could decide you didn’t want to deal with him anymore, but as always, you stuck around. You told him everything. You told him about your family and your struggles. You told him about everything you loved and hated and feared and yearned for, and not once did Peter even think that he wanted to walk away. This is the kind of intimacy that, over the years, Peter had struggled with less and less.

Still, it was the sexual aspect of intimacy that freaked him out. It was a beast he’d never dealt with, a feat he’d never faced. That being said, as every day went by Peter became more and more… frustrated. He didn’t know how to approach the subject, so he'd just let the subject approach him and wing it. 

And as he sat on his bed watching as you twirled around to Tears for Fears “Everybody Wants To Rule The World”, Peter realized he didn’t have much to worry about. 

“Dance with me, dollface,” you laughed, reaching out for him. You looked like someone straight out of a movie, the lim blue light coming from Peter’s arcade machines illuminating a halo above your head. You put Molly Ringwald and Emilio Estevez to shame. Peter took your hand, grinning like an idiot as you twirled him around. 

There he was, dancing in his mother’s basement with his favorite person in the entire world. He wasn’t a great dancer, and neither were you, but that didn’t matter. Peter was dreading this visit-- he hated the idea of being back in the basement that made him feel like a failure. But you assured him that you’d be there with him, and that getting to see his family would make it all worth it. His family isn’t what made it worth it, though. 

“Brain Damage” by Pink Floyd came next, slower and a bit more somber, but still danceable. Your arms shifted to around his neck, pulling him closer than he already was. Somehow, you ended up with your back against the wall as the song came to a close. He kissed your forehead, then your cheek, then your lips.

“I love you,” Peter spoke softly. This was a small victory-- he’d been so scared of the mere idea of loving someone. You were the only one who got to hear his love confessions. They were for you, and for you only.

“I love you too,” Peter would never, ever get tired of hearing that. Knowing that you love him is enough to keep him going for a hundred years. And he knows the odds, he knows that love is rocky and painful as much as it is beautiful. He knows that love can feel sweet in the beginning and go sour overtime. He knows that first, second, third relationships don’t always work out. But he thinks this is going to work out. And Peter doesn’t think this will ever go sour. Maybe that’s his blissful ignorance talking, maybe he’s jinxing it, but at this moment, he doesn’t care. Right now he is at his happiest, at his most content. 

“You wanna watch a movie?” You asked softly, pecking Peter on the cheek. He could feel the warmth radiating off of you, and Peter grinned. In an instant the tv across the room began playing the opening credits to the first movie that popped into his head. 

“The Breakfast Club?” You questioned. Peter shrugged.

“What can I say, I’m a sucker for a good coming-of-age kind of movie,”

You sat against the headboard of Peter’s bed, allowing Peter to settle beside you. Your head rested on his shoulder, and he was quick to grab your hand. Peter loved the closeness. Over the past year, he’d come to realize he was a very affectionate person. Previously, Peter hadn’t known soft, physical love; the only time anyone would ever touch him would be as punishment or defense, not love. Love. Peter had gotten more comfortable with the idea of love, because when he thinks of love he thinks of you.

3. 

Every good story has a villain. A villain that you love to hate, or hate to love. A villain you can sympathize with, a villain you can’t excuse, a villain that the mere mention of makes you sick to your stomach. An unexpected villain. An obvious villain. A villain that’s just trying his goddamn best. Sometimes the villain is defeated, sometimes the villain changes their evil ways. Sometimes the villain dies and the crowd cheers. 

Peter Maximoff never thought he’d be the villain of his own story. He tried his hardest to be a good person, but there was always that side of him that made him afraid. He was like an explosive; whenever someone got too close, he’d detonate and destroy everything around him. It was a self-defense tactic, albeit counterproductive. 

It killed you to see him that way. He told you about the relationships he’d lost to himself. He told you about the abandonment and the loneliness. It broke your heart. He tried to distract himself, drowning himself in work so he’d never have the opportunity to ruin what he had with you. Peter Maximoff was a walnut tree; every time he planted his roots and began to grow, he’d kill anything that grew too close. However, the constant working started to wear Peter down.

It started with the late nights. He’d collapse next to you at four AM, knocking out the minute his head hit the pillow. Still, he’d be awake before you were, already scrambling around trying to complete various tasks. He was like a machine that was running from it’s problems. The late nights turned to all-nighters, and the few hours Peter managed to salvage set aside for sleep had shrunk to a few minutes at a time. He didn’t eat anything with even a hint of nutritional value. At this rate, he was going to work himself to death. 

The worst part? Peter knew what he was doing. He wasn’t stupid. He just needed to shut up the little voice in his head that urged him to act out. The entirety of his childhood, Peter destroyed what he created. The need to be isolated, the feeling that he deserves to be alone spread throughout his body like a cancer. He locked himself away in the basement, trying desperately to stay out of everyone’s way so they wouldn’t shut him out. People tried to coerce him out of his cave, to pull him out of the bottomless pit he threw himself into. Peter saw them as the sirens trying to lure him into the ocean of loneliness, and he wasn’t going to fall for it. In his eyes, anyone who tried to help him were the villains of his amazing, heroic tale. Fortunately for him, one by one, they started to give up on helping him. They thought he was a lost cause; a fucking loser who was destined to wallow in his own self-pity until he died. At first, this was a triumph. He defeated them, he outwitted the sphinx and slayed the dragon. But a part of him hated himself for becoming the worst-case scenario that every parent feared their child would grow up to be. 

He pulled himself out of his pit and back onto his feet, all by himself. It was hell on Earth, but he did it. That cancerous feeling of uselessness retracted back into itself, now residing in the place next to Peter’s heart. However, that horrifying fear of becoming a burden began to grow again, this time when Peter was in his mid-20s. He began to overcompensate, and that led him to where he was; always on the brink of collapse, running on nothing but coffee and twenty minutes of sleep. In return, Peter got to have friends. In his mind, that was fair. In your mind? Not even close.

You managed to catch him in his bedroom as he was in the midst of simultaneously scribbling in a notebook and reading an open novel. Peter Maximoff would always be the most beautiful person in the world in your eyes, but at that moment, he looked like hell. Your plan seemed foolproof, but then again, you weren’t sure what you were walking into. Lately, Peter didn’t seem like himself. Probably because of the lack of sleep. 

“Peter?” He looked up at you, eyes half-lidded. “I got you something.”

“You did?” A sleepy smile was all he could muster, but that was google enough for you.  

“I did. It’s to mark exactly three years since I first met you,” you sat down on his bed, placing the small wrapped book right next to you. Peter glanced at the calendar on the wall-- oh god, you were right. It’s been three years to the day and he forgot. He deserves the title of “World’s Worst Boyfriend”. Scott will probably be upset that he’s losing his title.

 “What’re you up to?”

“Finishing up some old work I’ve been putting off,” he punctuated his sentence with a yawn. “Some of my old work and some of Hank’s, too.” “Why are you doing Hank’s work?”

“He seemed stressed about something, thought I might help clear his head,” The sentiment is sweet, you’ll give him that.

“Alright, well, can we talk for a minute?” Alarm bells went off in Peter’s brain. There has never, in the history of the universe, been a good conversation that started with ‘can we talk for a minute?’ or any of it’s cruel variants. 

“Actually, I’m kind of busy right now, can this wait?” It was obvious that the answer to that was no, but still, he felt the need to ask. 

“Not really, no. It’s important.” Peter saw the next few seconds playing out in his head. The inevitable had come to fruition; you realized that you could do better, and now you were cutting him loose. He couldn’t blame you, not really, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t going to rip him to shreds. He realized that whatever you brought for him was most likely a parting gift. How sweet.

“Oh. Alright.” 

“Well, I’m going to give it to you straight,” you sighed. “I’m worried about you, Peter.”

Oh. He’s heard this speech before, he knows the spiel. He can vaguely recall a guidance counselor telling him the exact same thing before Peter decided to call him a slew of expletives. The tar pit in his chest began to grow.

“I’m fine.” This was a lie. The first lie in a long chain of lies that Peter was about to tell to you, his favorite person in the world. He loved you, but in that moment his vision clouded over. You weren’t the person he loved and cherished anymore, no, you were just another faceless blur that provided a temporary escape. 

“Really? I feel like you’re pushing everyone away, you’re pushing me away.” Peter was becoming more and more irritated by the second.

“I told you, I’m fine. I’m not pushing you away. 

“Don’t lie to me,” your voice is firm and unwavering. “You don’t sleep, you almost never eat-- I don’t think I’ve seen you stand still for more than three minutes once in the past month--”

“That’s just how I am,” Peter huffs. He wanted this conversation to be over. “That’s not your problem.”

“Your wellbeing is my problem, Peter, that’s the whole point of being friends with someone. Even more so now, because you’re my partner and I care about you--” 

“Then stop,” Peter rolled his eyes. He's more irritable than normal-- most likely because he hasn’t slept in days. He could almost feel the venomous arms of isolation creeping around him. It’s a sick pattern, he knows; every time someone gets close to him, he feels the need to self-destruct before they lose interest. Even now, even after all this time, Peter’s still powerless against the poison in his veins. 

“What?” You’re losing your reserve and your stature. He can tell. You’re slouching and picking at the cuticles on your thumb. It’s almost as if he’s been shoved into the back seat, and is now being forced to watch as a stranger takes the wheel and crashes the car. So much frustration, so much hurt, and it’s all coming out right now, onto you. Peter already regrets this entire interaction, but still, he manages to spit acid. 

“Stop caring. Just leave, I know you want to. I know every night, you lie awake and think about all the different ways you can leave me in the dust. Not that it would matter to me.” This is another lie. Your eyes flash with hurt, but you stay put. You know he’s just being an asshole because he’s exhausted and too stubborn to admit that you’re right. He’s egging you on intentionally, trying to get you to snap and walk away. 

 “Peter, god, I love you but sometimes you can be so...”

“So what? C’mon, be honest with me,” He huffed. 

“Frustrating,” You surrendered. The poise you once held was gone. “I know it isn’t your fault-- I know you’ve trusted so many people so deeply and been betrayed or sold out and I know you’ve loved so many times and been thrown to the curb without a second thought. But I don’t know what I can do to convince you that I’m here for you, and that I love you. I’ve tried everything, and it feels like I’m talking to a brick wall. I want to make this work, but I need you to work with me.” It’s evident in your voice that you’re desperate. You’re just hoping you’ll get through to him, somehow. “I need you to want it as bad as I do-- hell, I need you to want it at all.” Here it comes--

“You ever think, maybe, I just don’t want you to be that person for me? I’ve spent my life being independent, my entire existence so far has been built around the fact that I’m going to end up alone. People come and people go-- people like you and Charles-- and they tell me they care. They tell me that they love me and that they're here for me. And then they get tired of me and they leave. I wish that you would just leave me the fuck alone and let me live in solitude,” There it was. The lie to end all lies. The words tasted awful coming out of his mouth, and the whole ordeal left his mouth tasting very… sour. Peter had to look away, he couldn’t look at the expression on your face.

“Fine. If that’s what you want.” Your eyes never met his, but you paused before you exited the room. “I know you’re probably just… I don’t know, going through something, but you’re being an asshole. Don’t talk to me until you’ve sorted your shit out. Enjoy your solitude.” You left the room impossibly fast, your fists clenched so tightly Peter feared that your nails would break the skin on your palms. He struggled to keep it together-- why the fuck did he do that? 

Peter collapsed onto his bed, and it’s only then that he realized you left behind the gift you got him. A part of him thought he should return it to you, but the other part of him urged for it to be opened. He tore the wrapping paper off before he realized what he was doing. The hardcover book the wrapping paper concealed was handbound, the cover littered with your beautifully familiar handwriting. In big, bold letters The Best of Poetry in the Humble Opinion of Y/n L/n was scrawled at the top. 

Peter vividly remembers a late night you spent talking to him. You told him about your favorite poems, outlining each and every little detail you loved about them. Some of them he’d read already, some of them he hadn’t, but all of them sounded like artwork coming from you. He opened the front cover, and you’d written something else on the inside. 

“In the words of the wonderful Peter Maximoff, ‘What’s the point of reading if you don’t get to share the love?’. This is me, sharing the love.” 

Carefully, Peter opened to a random page in the book. He saw the notes in the margins and the doodles and the exclamation points and before he knew it Peter was on the verge of tears. He was barely containing himself, and then he read a specific annotation you made. 

He had opened to the first page of “The Worm King’s Lullaby”, one of your all-time favorites. A specific line was underlined, one that Peter was all too familiar with: “Someone has to leave first. This is a very old story. There is no other version of this story.” Beside it, you wrote:

“As much of a genius Mr. Siken is, I have to disagree with this. If you love someone enough, you’ll never leave them and they’ll never leave you. Even if they die, even if things don’t work out, you’ll always have a little part of them to carry with you. Carry this part of me with you, Peter. Not that I plan on leaving anytime soon.” 

That was it. The floodgates broke. Everything that Peter had held back came pouring out-- the past 10 minutes finally caught up with him, and they hit him like a bus. He sat in the corner of his bedroom, his knees pulled up to his chest so tightly he thought his legs would snap. Peter wanted to rip all his hair out or punch a hole in the wall or hold his head underwater until he was nothing but an obituary and a headstone. His chest burned and the pit of despair inside his chest had overtaken his system, and he hated himself with a burning passion. Why did he do that? Why did he do that? Why the fuck did he do that?

Peter Maximoff had his breakdown in solitude, revealing in the fact that he was, undeniably, the villain of his own life.

4.

As it turns out, ‘getting his shit together’ is much harder than Peter originally anticipated. He's trying, he really is, but it's hard. Especially without you there. Peter knows that he fucked up, and he knows that he needs to work for your forgiveness. And don’t worry, he’s going to work for it. 

It had only been a week, but the entire mansion could tell that something was off. Life just wasn’t the same without the randomized gusts of wind that would knock people off their feet; no one had been seriously injured or had something stolen from them. The whirlwind that was mansion life, while still chaotic, lost it’s fun. 

Charles tried to keep things running smoothly, but he was an old man and didn’t exactly understand you and Peter. People would knock on your door every now and then, but you didn’t answer. You were much too busy analyzing exactly how much of a bitch you were being-- realistically, the answer is 0%, but you didn’t see it that way. No, from your perspective, you saw Peter having a mental breakdown and you ditched him. Pretty shitty move.

What you didn’t realize was that Peter was doing the exact same thing, however, the blame falls mostly on his shoulders, and boy does he know it. He’s been scripting his grand apology, trying desperately to find the right words to express exactly how sorry he is. Peter was never very good with words-- it’s always too hard to know if you’re going to say the wrong thing and mess everything up. Although, it’s hard to see how the scenario could get any worse.

He made the executive decision to start with “I’m sorry”-- a solid start to any apology. Sure, he could stop there, but Peter realized that he’d probably need more to win back his partner. So, he managed to scribble down a few more lines on a tiny notecard he was supposed to use for studying. Oh, what a wondrous redemption arc this would be; Peter gets into a fight with his wonderful partner and ruins their relationship and then struggles to come up with a coherent apology. 

“I’m sorry about what I said, that was shitty. I shouldn’t have said that.” Peter’s eyebrows furrowed in frustration. God, he was going to die alone, wasn’t he? Maybe this is the cruel punishment the world is dealing to him, the universe is deciding that Peter’s redemption arc would be better if it, well, didn’t exist. Even so, he isn’t planning on giving up or giving in just yet. 

He scrapped what he had so far and started at the beginning once again. His 9th grade english teacher would tell him to write about what he knows, and though he doesn’t know much, he’s an expert when it comes to himself. Peter knows how he feels about you, he knows how sorry he is, and he knows that he really, really, really wants you to know that he didn’t mean a word he said about not wanting you. Peter knows about love, at least a little bit, and he realizes he’ll need more than just words.  

His mind drifts to that night, years ago, in front of the fireplace. He vividly remembers a tiger lily and a chameleon scribbled in the margins of your book. Realistically, Peter couldn’t get his hands on a chameleon, but a tiger lily was a different story. In high school, Peter took a botany course because he thought it’d be easy. It wasn’t, it was boring as all hell, but it seems like his slacking paid off. He knew tiger lilies were indigenous to Asia, but they’d become quite common along New England-area roadways. 

Peter grabbed his jacket and took off, tearing through the roads like his life depended on it. In less than 10 minutes, Peter found himself in the middle of New Hampshire drenched in rain. In hindsight, he probably should’ve checked the weather before leaving. Nevertheless, he takes off into the small wooded area that laid passed the road’s end. Dozens of mushrooms dotted the muddy ground and mossy rocks clouded his peripheral vision. The rain begins to lighten as he spots a bright orange tiger lily peeking through the remains of a tree stump. He sprints over to it.

The tiger lily is bloomed and beautiful and Peter can’t tear his eyes away from the wide array of speckles and splotches and color. It’s pristine, but some of the petals are torn or wilting. The roots stretch into the stump below it, and Peter leans closer. The stump is old and worn, fungi and bugs eat away at the base next to a large hole where a family of worms reside. The stump is ugly, sure, but it’s useful. It helps keep the bugs fed and keeps the worms warm. There’s a metaphor here somewhere, but Peter is too distracted to find it. 

He gently picks the flower and spins on his heel, taking off once again. The rain makes it harder to run, but it’ll take a lot more than water to stop Peter. By the time Peter gets back to Xavier’s the flower is a little crushed, but it’s still somewhat pristine. 

He has the flower, he has the apology, and now all he needs is courage. Thankfully, that courage comes quickly as he instinctively knocks on your bedroom door. He probably should’ve stopped to collect himself, but he was riding a wave of adrenaline that wouldn’t come back. 

“Go away, Jean,” You called from inside. You sounded tired, and it made Peter sad. 

“It’s-- uh-- it’s not Jean,” Peter can hear your hesitant footsteps approaching the door, and suddenly the courage he managed to build up drained. His hands are shaking by the time you open the door. You look up at him, and Peter looks back at you, and suddenly everything is much harder to do. He looks down at his feet. 

“Hi.” Your voice is hoarse, but clear. 

“Hi.” Peter’s voice is uneven and quiet. You stand there in silence for a minute before Peter pipes up again.

“So, uh, you’re probably still mad at me and I get that, but I just want you to hear me out. I-If that’s okay,” You nod slowly, and Peter takes a deep breath. He thinks about the written apology that sat in his coat pocket, and he makes the last-minute decision to forget about it. He’ll speak from the heart, or, whatever people in rom-coms do. 

“I’m sorry. It was really shitty of me to get angry at you because you were worried about me-- although, I guess shitty is an understatement. Everything that I said about, yknow, not wanting you or Charles or anyone else around anymore wasn’t true. I need you guys, and I love you guys and it was unfair of me to push you away. Solitude really sucks. I guess I’m just not very good at navigating relationships,” He exhales, and his chest shudders. “I understand if you don’t want to be with me anymore, I just thought I should make it clear how I feel.” It’s only then that he remembers about the tiger lily in his hand. “Oh, and this is for you.”

“A tiger lily?” you smiled softly. “These are my favorite-- how did you know?”

“I’m just observant, I guess. You usually draw them when you’re bored, I figured you’d like to see one in person,” You gently took the tiger lily in your hand. The silence that hung in the air was deafening, and Peter realized that was probably a bad sign. His chest drops just a bit, and he takes a small step backwards.

“I guess I should probably leave you alone--” Peter can’t get very far, because you immediately jump forward and wrap your arms around him. Eyes wide and heart pounding, you can feel Peter’s arms lock around your waist. 

“Thank you,” You whispered. “Please don’t go.” Peter was smiling so hard his cheeks ached, and a horrible weight had been lifted off his shoulders. The close-contact was refreshing; he didn’t realize how much he missed it until that moment. He was pretty sure he would never, ever let you go. Not again.

5.

To Peter Maximoff, physical affection has always been a touchy subject-- that is, until you came along. You proved to him that he deserved physical affection, that his mutation and his personality and weirdo quirks didn’t make him lesser or unlovable. Peter Maximoff deserved love, and you were the one who never failed to love him. 

You sat on a wooden chair in front of the fireplace, reading to the group of children sitting at your feet. The emotional lines of “Snow and Dirty Rain” fell from your lips, and with every turning syllable the small group would listen just a little bit closer. Peter did, too, desperately trying to hear every single word you said. Class was almost over, and once the students were dismissed you’d probably stop reading.

“I made this place for you. A place for you to love me. If this isn't a kingdom then I don't know what is,” Your eyes tore away from the page to look at the kids at your feet. They fell upon Peter, and a smile erupted on your face. 

Peter vaguely recalls the twisted idea of love that he held as a teenager. He thought love was a dragon to be defeated, a battle that could be won or lost. It’s clear now that love is the opposite-- it isn’t a fight or a battle or a thing to be conquered. It’s more like a flower; it needs to be cherished and cared for in order to grow. Sometimes the flower wilts and dies, and that’s natural, but sometimes the flower lasts for a lifetime. 

Love wasn’t a dragon or a knight, it didn’t have a hero or a villain; it was much more like a tiger lily and a tree stump.

[lokitvsource]

You came into the show with the idea of Loki clashing with the TVA already in place. How exactly does this kind of arrangement work at Marvel? Michael Waldron: There was a creative brief that was 20 pages or so that basically said: “We want to do something about Loki running up against the TVA. Here’s some different avenues that might be cool to explore.” It was really serving it up for writers as a jumping off point for us to put together our pitches. Then I went off and really worked on the idea of Loki being brought in to hunt another Loki, and that becoming the heart of the show, and the Loki/Sylvie relationship. The big thing that I did in my pitch — even as early as pitching it to Kevin [Feige] — I really walked through the six episodes, kind of similar to what they were. I knew I wanted Episode 3, for instance, to be a little bit of a Before Sunrise, with Loki and this character walking across this apocalyptic moon. But Marvel had the initial, probably the most important spark of genius, which was just Loki and the TVA.

Where did the idea of the variant being a female Loki come from? That was one of my ideas, that we then confirmed in the writers room. Yeah, we knew from the get-go that it was going to be Loki falling for another version of himself.

Why was that appealing to you? I love writing any romance; it’s fun. Especially, it hasn’t been done a ton in the MCU. There’s an obviously self-reflective quality to it. And a show that’s quite literally about self-love; it is Loki getting to see parts of himself. At the start of the show, he kind of hates himself. He assesses himself to Mobius as a villain. And then he meets Sylvie, and he sees her as someone on a heroic crusade. He sees the good in her, and is able to see the good in himself.

Mobius suggests that, of course, Loki fell in love with his own variant, because he’s a narcissist. Do you think he’d be capable of falling in love with someone who is not a version of himself? [Laughs] I don’t know if he didn’t fall in love with himself first. Maybe after that, but the first time he falls, maybe this is what it had to be.

What’s the key to telling a time travel story that takes advantage of the concept without confusing the audience? I think it’s doing a lot of work that the audience never sees. It’s really understanding the logic of this thing, building out the TVA as a real organization that actually exists in our minds. Our writers room, we had a TVA handbook, encyclopedia, what they do and why they do it, a glossary of terms. And then you want to only give the audience the absolute bare minimum to understand the story, and to just get swept up in the emotional stakes of everything. If the sci-fi of it all, if the time travel logic of this show did not hold up week to week, then that would have distracted from the emotional journeys of the characters. So I’m glad that even though everyone had to take their medicine a little bit, along with Loki, in episode one, I’m glad it didn’t distract from the story we were telling. And we had the benefit of Loki being the audience’s eyes in. The audience is learning as he is.

There’s a funny scene in Avengers: Endgame where the Avengers start arguing about exactly how time travel works in the MCU. How much did you have to study what other Marvel movies had done with the idea to make sure your rules were consistent? Fortunately, Endgame was the main one, and that’s how they understand it. The TVA is an organization that understands time travel on a deeper level, probably more comprehensively than the Avengers do in Endgame. We wanted to make sure we were staying true to any rules that they laid out, but sort of establishing our own rules. It’s a time travel show. What was I thinking? A movie’s one thing, but a show is hard.

How many Loki variants did you have on the writers room whiteboard at various points? Hundreds. So many different Lokis. There was one Loki, actually maybe it was a version of Mobius that took off his glasses, and he just had really tiny eagle eyes, like he could see everything. There was stuff like that all over the white board. Tom Kauffman, who wrote that fifth episode, he’s an amazing comedy writer, and was on the first three seasons of Rick and Morty. His first draft of that episode was just bananas.

Was there a variant, or a crazy idea in general, that you really loved but couldn’t ultimately do? There was so much different stuff that we wanted to do in the Void. But the truth is, I don’t want to say any of it, because you never know. The ideas that I want to do the most may pop up elsewhere.

Okay, so let’s stick with a variant we did see. Was Alligator Loki actually a Loki, or just an alligator that happened to be wearing a Loki’s crown? A magician can’t reveal his tricks, man. That’s the great debate. Let it rage.

What was Alligator Loki‘s origin story on your side of things? Who pitched him and how was that initially received? That was maybe my very first meeting with the producers at Marvel, Kevin Wright and Stephen Broussard, talking about the show, and me saying, “When we’re doing this, you can encounter lots of different Lokis. You could have an alligator Loki. Why? Cause he’s green.” And us all laughing about how stupid that was. I think I made the point that it’s that energy of what we can do with the show. We can have something like that, but let’s play it straight. Alligator Loki, you get a laugh out of it, but by and large you try and play it straight. That was the fun tonal balance that we tried to strike in the show.

There’s been some conflicting information out there about whether the big bad was originally just going to be He Who Remains, who’s a different comics character altogether from Kang, and whether the casting of Jonathan Majors changed the plan. From your point of view, what happened? The character was always written as a version of Kang, as early as the first draft of the script, we knew in the writers room, relatively early on. He Who Remains, that’s the guy behind the curtain with the TVA, and we saw an opportunity to fuse that mythology with the Immortus mythology. And that was just really compelling. It was a way to elevate, it just felt right for Loki, because Loki was there in the first Avengers, he’s the one who brought the Avengers together, and here is directly related to the exploding of the multiverse, this event that will drive the events of Phase Four. Certainly, when Jonathan came in, it allowed us to step on the gas of just how eccentric and charismatic this character could be. I was inspired in the writing of He Who Remains by Tom Cruise’s character in Magnolia, trying to give it that Frank TJ Mackey energy a little bit. He captures that and then elevates it to something else that’s different and weird.

You just said how important the multiverse is going to be to Phase Four of the MCU. How challenging is it to have to set up this big thing for the larger Marvel endeavor while also serving the needs of the particular story you’re telling on this show? It’s a challenge in the sense that it’s all a relay race, and you’ve got the baton on this thing, and you want to do a great job. The name of the game over at Marvel is with each movie or TV show, make it the best it can possibly be. And they’re really supportive of that, and trust that it will organically fit into the larger blueprint of everything. We were excited about introducing a version of Kang, because yeah, to introduce this new big bad was cool for our show. I was aware, and cautious, of the thing I read in your review, that it might not be the most sound storytelling to introduce a new character at the very end that we’ve never seen before as the big bad of this thing. Obviously, we had the benefit that people know who Kang is, and there’s a meta thing where a portion of the audience knows Jonathan Majors is going to be playing Kang in Phase Four. But the finale was only ever going to work if He Who Remains, in a compelling way, serviced the Loki and Sylvie emotional story. That was the most important job that that character did in the finale: he laid out a very compelling conflict that ultimately drove the two of them apart.

There has also been some confusion as to exactly when you knew that there would be a second season, as opposed to you just making a limited series. Initially, in the writers room, we were not operating as though there would be a second season. And the whole way through was, this should be a story that should stand on its own. I referenced The Leftovers and Mad Men all the time. I think about those seasons, they pushed the overall stories forward, but you can pull any one of those seasons and look at it on its own as an individual story. I wanted that to be the case here, whether we did a second season or not. I think we always felt that we would want to propel Loki forward into the MCU after the conclusion of our season. The only question was, would that be in an appearance in a movie, or would that be in a second season. And it was only over the course of development that the stars aligned to make a second season.

But that end scene, where Mobius no longer recognizes Loki and the TVA is filled with Kang statues, wouldn’t have been a satisfying conclusion to a limited series. That is an ending that only works if there’s going to be a second season. So there is another conclusion to the story that I wrote that exists out there, that I guess is just for me. My own little play, that I perform with my action figures.

What was Sylvie’s original plan, before Loki hijacked her to that dying moon? It was to empty out the TVA. The entire bombing of the Sacred Timeline was to create a diversion. She’s not going to be able to create a multiverse from doing that. Ultimately, the TVA has the manpower to get out and take care of these events, but they’re going to have to scramble a lot of their minutemen teams, and it leaves the Time-Keepers significantly less guarded than they would have been otherwise. That was her plan.

You didn’t come into this as a big comic book nerd. So was there someone on staff who could tell you, “Well, there’s this giant cloud called Alioth that eats time,” or, “Well, one time Thanos had a helicopter,” or maybe someone assigned to you by Marvel? I’m constantly reading the comics but trying to not be so beholden to the and do our own thing. I charged our writers assistant, Ryan Kohler, with, “You’ve got to become the authority on all things TVA, all things Kang, and all that.” So he and my assistant, Sophie Miller, became a support staff who read a ton of these comics and became a wealth of knowledge for the writers to turn to. And then the Marvel producers, obviously are very well versed in the comics. It was Kevin Wright who came in one day and was like somebody throwing down a blueprint in an asteroid movie, going, “Alioth! Look at this!” And we were like, “Ohmigod, this is perfect!” The best thing about working on these comic book shows is that if it’s from the comics, it doesn’t matter how much of a deus ex machina it is, it’s just cool, like, “I can’t believe you pulled that from the comics.” Alioth, that was a big breakthrough that unlocked the last two episodes for us.

That is not a famous comic book that introduces Alioth. It’s an obscure Nineties miniseries, with really ugly art. But you look at it and see what it could be. You say, “If we do this, and it feels like Twister, it’s going to be really cool.”

Was Mobius’ love of jet skis there simply to illustrate his character, or did you have a grander idea in mind? I will come clean: I’m a jet ski guy. I’ve spent a good amount of time on jet skis in my day. I used to tow a jet ski to a lake and ride it in college. So it probably was me. Loki, I was just becoming a steward of that character. Mobius was a character I really felt I got to create from nothing. There’s not really anything to that character in the comics. So bits and pieces of me found their way in. I just think there’s something so poignant — here Mobius is, a guy who is literally fighting to preserve all of time in the multiverse, and yet his interests are maybe the most humble, human, terrestrial, unremarkable thing you can think of. Just a jet ski. And when you’ve got Owen Wilson playing him and it’s just that much better.

Will you be back in some capacity for Season Two? [long pause] Time will tell.

‘Loki’ Head Writer Michael Waldron — and ‘Rick and Morty’ Alum — on MCU, ‘Heels’ and More

[ynscrazylife]

Black Widow Rewrite (1)

Summary: This is the first in my series of rewrites of the Black Widow movie. This particular one will focus on my idea of what the post credit scene should be.

Authors Note: I want to preface this by saying that I LOVED the movie! This “rewrite” adds some things that I would of have liked to see (ex: this one: post credit scene fix/rewrite) and makes her hero moment shine more. Also, this’ll be how I start writing character x character fics, not just character x reader!

Request to be on a taglist (or multiple) here! (Taglists are at the end of the fic)

MCU Masterlist #1 | MCU Masterlist #2 | Main Masterlist

PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of these works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me first and b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.

header c @/piratanjo

Yelena didn’t know how many times one was “supposed” to visit their dead sister’s grave, but, as her usual self, she didn’t give a shit. This was the second time this week her boots were clamping down on the fall leaves and the beep of her locking her car doors filled the otherwise steady blow of air. She needed her sister, now more than ever, to hug her, hold her, even talk to her - but since her sister sacrificed herself to save half the entire unvierse - her grave would do. 

Well, it wouldn’t. These visits never truly satisifed Yelena. She always left feeling a dull pang in her stomach - a pang in a hole that was empty and wasn't going to get filled in anytime soon. It was nice to imagine that she was talking to Natasha even just for a little bit, but the time always came when she sun would set, Fanny would bark, and she’d have to drive home alone - knowing her sister was never coming back. That Natasha wouldn’t be answering her comments.

The pathway was practically ingrained in the souls of Yelena’s feet. Her muscles responded to it, hugged it, as she always took the same steps and walked the same way. It didn’t take her long to find the headstone, with it’s flowers and teddy bears and cards of tears from the Avengers and Yelena’s family. 

The blonde let out a deep sigh as she walked up and knelt down, eyes reading over Natasha’s name and the “Daughter - Sister - Avenger” title as well as the description engraved: Dedicated to the hero who sacrificed herself to bring half the universe back. You are loved and missed by many, and will always be in our hearts.” 

Yelena had memorized those words. They were always floating around somewhere in her brain. This day had been especially painful. Stress seemed to be in the air all morning and afternoon, and Yelena couldn’t explain it, but it was tough. It was one of the times where Natasha’s death was especially difficult.

She let her muscles relax and slowly and steadily leaned forward, until her forehead was pressing against the cool and a little rough stone. Yelena wore tiny bruises and scrapes left behind proudly, to serve as a reminder. What she was reminding people of? That her sister lived. Her sister was here. 

The whistle came out louder than usual this time, but quickly dipped and cracked, the emotion seeping in. It echoed in Yelena’s mind, bouncing off the inner walls of her head, until eventually coming to a stop. She closed her eyes and willed her ears to soak up all the sounds, but she only heard the leaves rustling, Fanny’s paws scraping against the ground, and the breeze in the trees.

Every time a part of her expected a whistle back - from memory, she assumed - and every time she was disappointed. That didn’t stop her from yearning for it.

Which is why the sharp, confident tune entered Yelena’s air with a jarring pang, bouncing around in her eardrums briefly, instead of its usual calming flow. Her stance immediately morphed like an animal hunting for it’s pray. In just seconds, she was one one knee instead of two and had two hands planted, digging into the grass and mud, ready to run, while her eyes searched and analyzed the scene before her. No one else should be there, and the only people who knew her and Natasha’s whistle were Melina and Alexei, who were in Russia. 

The moment her eyes landed on the figure was the moment Yelena felt like her reality was crashing down on her. Her jaw dropped and the surprise nearly knocked her off her feet. But then, when that all faded, her gaze turned into a harsh glare and her limbs tightened as she rose to her feet. 

“How and why would you impersonate my sister?!” She snapped in a low but loud voice. 

The person who, with great courage and/or stupidity, that resembled Natasha Romanoff to a T sported her famous and charming smirk, unfazed as she began to close the distance. “Yelena,” she dared said. “It’s me.” 

Yelena shook her head. “That’s impossible. And-and it’s offensive. How dare you disguise yourself as her and come here and continue this act? What do you gain from this?” She said, doing a disgusted gesture to the person.

The person stood relaxed. “How did I know the whistle then?” She asked. The air was left void of words for a couple prominent beats, until the person continued, reciting: “Прости меня, сестренка. (Forgive me, little sister.) It was real to me too.” 

Yelena’s stance loosened up, but the battle inside her was still going on. “How?” 

Natasha smiled and continued walking towards her. “The Avengers resurrected me,” she answered, but then clarified: “It’s also a long story. But I’m here. I’m alive . . . I still have your vest with all the pockets-” she caught sight of Fanny. “-and I see you got the dog you wanted. No kids, yeah?”

Yelena’s walls broke down and her eyes filled with happy tears. “Наташа (Natasha),” She whispered, throwing her arms around her older sister and holding her close. Natasha leaned her head on the blonde’s shoulders, tears coming to her as well, and she let herself be held, be cared for, and be loved. 

Natasha Romanoff will return. 

[aphrostarot]

Future Self Pick a Pile

What does your future self have to say to you?

Remember that this is a general reading and some things may not apply to you. Do not try and force it to fit. If you would like a personal reading I am currently offering free readings. Dm me if you are interested!

Pile One (Fuchsite):

Who are you currently?

The Chariot:

You are constantly striving to achieve your dreams. Constantly on the move, never stopping for anything. You are extremely strong-willed and fearless. Despite not yet fulfilling all your dreams, you are confident nonetheless.

What does your future self have to thank you for?

Temperance:

Since you are constantly striving for success, you don't have time to strive for happiness. You instead live a life of contentment. This is good. The degrees of happiness fluctuates, but contentment is a state of equilibrium, which means there is less risk of things going wrong. Your future self wants to thank you for this. Your constant state of equilibrium has helped you become who you are meant to be.

What does your future self want you to focus on?

Emperor:

Emperors are in charge, and they are surrounded by people who listen to what they have to say. Your future self says that you need to focus on taking charge and being in control. Your future self is showing me that you are in a position of authority and that you should practice being a boss now in order to improve your leadership skills for the future.

Page of Swords:

The Page of Swords is a signal that someone in your life does not have your best interest at heart. They are spying on you in order to feed the people who do not like you. Your future self wants you to pay attention to this, to concentrate on finding out who it is; if you know who it is then you can either try to free yourself from that person or fix the relationship. Note that this person does not have to be literally in your life; they can also be someone who follows you on social media.

What does your future self want you to cut out?

Ten of Pentacles:

From the energy I feel coming from you, I get the impression that you are a person who, yes, keeps moving toward their dreams of success, but you are also always changing what you view as successful. You never stop to realize that who you are right now is who your past self never dreamed you could be. You need to realize that your future self does not recommend this mindset. It's important to slow down and realize what you've accomplished.

Some advice your future self has for you:

Queen of Wands (reversed):

If the Queen of Wands is reversed, it indicates someone who is demanding, vengeful, jealous, selfish, and a bully. In your life, perhaps you know someone like this, and your future self wants you to let this person go since you know deep down that this person isn't healthy for you and shouldn't be in your life, so now's the time to do so. Some of you don't know who this person is, which means that your future self wants you to know that if you don't heed their advice, you will become this person.

Oracle:

Storm:

Every hurricane has an end, says this card. Your future self is telling you that you should maintain your equilibrium and not stress too much about whether you will succeed or not. If anything bad happens in the future, your future self wants you to know that you will get through anything that comes your way.

Shark:

In this card, the message is that you need to get out of this situation quickly. When you hold the mentality that you are constantly striving for success, you will never allow yourself to slow down and realize that where you are now is what your past self could never have imagined.

Pile Two (Amethyst):

Who are you currently?

Eight of Wands:

Currently, you are highly motivated to achieve your goals, and you aren't afraid of change. You are moving through life very quickly. Your motivation comes from your excitement about what lies ahead. Additionally, you may have noticed that your communication has been much better lately than it has been in the past. You're more motivated to write, post on social media, and respond to emails.

What does your future self have to thank you for?

Queen of Swords:

This Queen doesn’t let anyone walk all over them and everyone around them knows where they stand with them. Those are the qualities that define you. Being an advocate for yourself and making sure you are treated properly are two of your strengths. Your future self wants to thank you for that.

The Lovers:

Given that you know what kind of treatment you deserve, it makes sense that you love yourself. The most important thing is to love yourself. In your eyes, if no one likes you, then it is okay because you love yourself. Because you give yourself that kind of love, you know what kind of love you deserve. Your future self wants to also thank you for that.

What does your future self want you to focus on?

Ace of Cups:

Since you know what kind of love you deserve, you refuse to settle for less which is great, but you have reached a point in your life where you believe no one will ever be what you need, so you have stopped looking. Your future self wants you to start looking again because there is someone out there that will give you the love you deserve. According to the energy I'm receiving from them, you will find someone one day who makes you happy and loves you the way you deserve. They don’t want you to give up on love because you may miss out on this.

What does your future self want you to cut out?

The Sun:

Presently, you think that only you can make yourself happy, and that is not a healthy way to live. Let other people make you happy because that's what your future self wants. It is not necessary for you to be the only one in your life. It is okay to let others in.

The Well:

This goes along with The Sun. Taking care of yourself does not necessarily mean you're the only one doing it. It's okay to let other people into your life. It is okay to let other people care for you.

Some advice your future self has for you:

Eight of Cups:

Your future self wants you to let go of the idea that you only have you in your life and that is how it will always be. They want you to accept others into your life, accept love from others because others can give you the love you deserve it doesn’t have to always be you.

Two of Pentacles:

They want you to have a sense of balance in your life. Although you have been alone for so long and that is what makes you happy, there may still be a part of you that hopes someone will break through your walls and make you happy. The problem is that you never allow anyone into your life, so this never happens. According to your future self, you need to find balance, and the best way to do this is to slowly let people into your life.

Oracle:

Feast:

This card urges you to slow down and enjoy your life. You've been living life so fast and focusing on making yourself happy that you haven't realized how much you have accomplished. You are constantly on the move trying to fill the void that you do not realize how much you have accomplished for yourself. It is important to your future self that you slow down and acknowledge how far you have come.

Escapist:

This card's message is to come home to yourself. You have been running for so long trying to fill your void that you don't even realize where you are now. Take a break from that constant running and recognize that you don't have to fill that void constantly by running, but taking a break can fill it too.

Pile Three (Amazonite):

Who are you currently?

Five of Pentacles:

Currently, you are going through a very dark period. There have been many sudden losses for you, and this has made you very depressed. The last few months have been tough for you and you haven't felt like yourself because of it.

What does your future self have to thank you for?

Seven of Swords:

No matter what you've been through in your life, you've never let it stop you. No matter what happens, you continue to fight and stand your ground. As the card of betrayal, you may have had someone in your life who was not healthy for you, they did not treat you the way you deserved. Your future self wants to thank you for being so strong and overcoming all of your struggles.

What does your future self want you to focus on?

Knight of Wands:

The card of enthusiasm. Although your future self knows that you have endured a lot in your life, they say that now is not the time to give up hope because you will get through this. Your focus should be on finding enthusiasm for your life again, that's what they want.

What does your future self want you to cut out?

Seven of Wands:

The Seven of Wands is the card of fights. Someone in your life is causing you a lot of drama. You should cut this person out of your life, according to your future self. They say they are not healthy for you and that your life will be much better when they are not around.

Some advice your future self has for you:

The Sun:

It's time to find happiness again. The most important thing is to figure out what makes you happy right now and to allow yourself to feel that happiness because yes, you have been through a lot, but that doesn't mean you don't need happiness because you do.

Oracle:

Homeward:

This is the card that tells you to take yourself out on a date. To love yourself in the way that you deserve because you do deserve it. Take care of yourself right now. Do something that makes you happy. Do a self-care night, run a bath or shower, lather yourself up in some nice smelling lotion, and put some comfy clothes on. Watch a movie or tv show that you have always wanted to.

Sun:

The sun can always be painted back into your sky. It is up to you to discover and pursue your own happiness. It is not necessary to live in sadness forever. Remember that good mental health is a journey, not a destination. You can get through this, and there will always be things that make you happy. All you have to do is figure out what they are right now. Finding something new to make you happy will assist, it doesn't need to be what made you happy in the past.

Though tips are not required, they are very much appreciated. Thank you!

Venmo: @ aphrostarot

Paypal: paypal/aphrostarot

[buskies]

If no one else asks I wanna- nay I need- know about Points of Contact 2 and 3. Finally got the chance to read the last chapter today of the first one and I was wrung out emotionally like a wet towel.

Asdfghjkl thank you for asking @thearchdemongreatlydisapproves!! Since this got long, I’ll be answering in two posts. This one’s for Act 2. Act 3 can be found here.

I should preface this all with the following points:

First, I started Points of Contact directly after beating the trilogy for the first time this year, so I was full of that initial need to fill that post-Mass Effect void. I ended up trawling through the kinkmeme, searching for anything that might spark my inspiration, and found a first contact prompt. Next thing I know, I’m 10K words in and I’ve sketched out the entire plot.

Second, and this is mostly relevant for Act 2, Points of Contact was always going to be an Action/Adventure fic. I love battle-weary-but-determined soldier Shepard who becomes figurehead, and I really wanted to write her. Plus action scenes are fun.

So this all to say Points of Contact started out as purely self-indulgent—but also extremely ambitious, since I’m a new fan and also have never written the types of scenes I have sketched out for Act 2.

!!MAJOR SPOILERS FOR POINTS OF CONTACT UNDER THE CUT!!

SO. The First Contact "War."

Most of the scenes are written out, but some of the details tying everything together, and the very important transition between Act 1 and 2, are mildly eluding me. Part of this is because I’m a new fan and need to do a deep dive into the lore/timelines. I also strive for realism as much as possible, but I know little about the military or technology. So this means that instead of writing, I end up finding myself going down hours-long rabbit holes over details like, “how WOULD crops be pollinated if humans were to colonize a different planet?” Details not even BioWare seems to care about, so why should I??

To show a bit of my underbelly, I’m a little insecure about this act. It’s a challenge to write a cross-genre story and I often feel like I’m setting myself up for failure. Points of Contact started out as a cheerful and mostly lighthearted fic, and now I’m bringing in war? So I’m not even entirely sure if I’ll keep the full First Contact War or if instead I’ll make it more of a skirmish? I’m leaning toward that.

I don’t think that Act 2 will be as long as Act 1 or Act 3, but I’ve given myself a month to try and figure out what the hell I’m doing. I wish I could say I’m a more organized writer, but I’m so not haha.

So anyway, sorry about the impassioned rambling! I have a lot of Feelings with a capital F about this fic. Here is a snip snip from Act 2. It’s subject to change slightly as I go through my editing process, but is one of the first scenes I wrote for Points of Contact, so it should survive any cuts. The other character in this scene will most definitely survive any cuts at least!

She found him in a small room at the end of the hall. Shepard had heard comments before about how all turians looked the same, but she had no problems differentiating between them. This turian was a rich brown, with an intricate white pattern on his face. His face plates were less pronounced as Garrus’s, and his fringe was much shorter. Handsome, but not nearly as handsome as Garrus, although that might have been her personal bias speaking.

The turian lifted his head from his chest to look at her, then dropped his head back against the wall. For a moment, it was eight months ago, and it was Garrus she was staring at, battered and bleeding, dropping his head against his chair in defeat when he couldn’t get his hands to unlatch his safety belt.

“Oh great. It’s you,” the turian said.

“Are all turians so sarcastic?” asked Shepard, easing into the room. Although the turian was pretty banged up, she had read the reports on him. Fast, strong, deadly in both close combat and with a gun in his hand. He was clearly some sort of specialist, and Shepard was too good at her job to take any stupid chances.

“Met a lot of us, have we?” said the turian.

“You could say that.” She stopped a safe distance from him, then tossed the turian’s omni-tool and several packs of medigel on the floor by his feet. “Your gun and armor are in the locker outside the front door, guarded by a cloaked drone. If you try to come back in here, it will pump you so full of bullets you’ll be spitting metal for the rest of your short life.”

The turian stared down at the omni-tool, mandibles flickering slightly. “Is this a new form of torture? Give me a taste of freedom and then—what, the omni-tool explodes as soon as I put it on?”

“I’m not that creative,” said Shepard. “Nor that good at tech, to be honest.”

The turian frowned up at her. “Is your squad waiting just outside the door or something?”

“No.”

The turian made no move to pick up the omni-tool. “What’s your game, then?”

“I’m letting you go.”

“Why? Are you some sort of turian fetishist? Because sorry to say, but you’re really not my type.”

Shepard snorted. “I can’t believe that’s the first place your mind went. Sorry, sweetheart, but I’m already taken. I think.” She reached up to touch her necklace, but let her hand drop before she could. “You infiltrated our base without hurting anyone for information you didn’t get. There’s no reason to keep you here.”

The turian stiffly rolled one of his shoulders. “Your colleagues seem to think otherwise.”

“My colleagues,” spat Shepard, “are breaking at least fifteen regs for their own sick pleasure. If I have anything to say about it—Look, are you going to take the omni-tool, or is my company is so scintillating that you can’t bring yourself to leave?”

The turian snorted derisively, but finally leaned forward, grabbing the wristband. His movements were slow and stiff, radiating pain, as he strapped it to the wrist. Despite her reassurances, he flinched slightly when he flicked it on, as if he were still expecting it to blow up in his face. When it didn’t, he looked back up at her, silently examining her face.

“You’re Commander Shepard,” he said. “I know because of the fringe.”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“You have a—reputation.”

“I’m not surprised.”

“I still don’t understand why you’re saving me.”

Shepard crouched down so that she was the same level as the turian. “Why are turians attacking humans?”

“Ah, so the interrogation’s on again.”

Shepard rolled her eyes. “Just answer the question.”

The turian flicked his mandibles. “Humans broke an intergalactic law. It makes sense for the turians to respond.”

Shepard nodded. “And the humans think they’re fighting off an invading force. The way I see it, if everyone would just sit down and take ten minutes to sort things out, hundreds of lives could be saved.”

There was a beat of silence. “Huh,” said the turian. “I didn’t think humans could be reasonable.”

“You would, if you just stopped and talked to us sometime,” Shepard grumbled.

Deep down, she was aware that her idealistic opinion would be vastly different if it hadn’t been for Garrus. Without her history with him, she knew she would be out there, fighting the invading force with her squadmates. Maybe she should have felt guilty for the bias, but hell, who wasn’t shaped by their history?

The turian waved his omni-tool over his injuries, then got to his feet. Shepard straightened up with him. He was taller than her, but shorter than Garrus, and Shepard wondered if she would measure up every turian she met against Garrus and find them lacking. Probably. It made her feel a little pathetic.

“Thank you, Commander Shepard,” said the turian, sounding much less hostile than when she first entered the room. “For what it’s worth, I don’t disagree with you.”

“What’s your name?” Shepard asked.

The turian hesitated for a moment. “Nihlus Kryik.”

Shepard held out her hand. “Jane Shepard.”

Nihlus hesitated for even a longer moment, then took her hand and shook it once, before yanking his own hand back. Not a turian custom then. Thinking back on it, she had never shaken hands with Garrus.

“Stay safe out there, Kryik. Maybe you and I can grab a drink after all this is over.”

Nihlus chuckled, then looked surprised at himself for doing so. He shook his head. “You know,” he said, “I think I might actually like that. See you around, Shepard.”