#thank you internet human wherever you are

[ghostinthegallery]

Speaking as someone who was a nerdy teenager in the 2010s, whoever put the Silence and the Storm on the TV Tropes 40k fanfic rec page is my personal hero. I spent way too much time on that website back in the day and thanks to you I have come full circle 🙏 Appearing on a website that was (for better or for worse!) deeply formative to me as a youth.

(now if we got a full page together 👀👀👀 truly our power would be unlimited 😈)

[nights-at-crystarium]

You know what, I assume that people always read my pinned, or notice the pointer "new reader? start here" in every new Fragments' episode. I might be deluding myself. So hi hello lemme TALK ABOUT MY COMIC.

Before I get too rambly (and I mean RAMBLY), here's a quick intro. Fragments is a comic focused on feels and slice of life, made by a queer guy, aiming to ~character study~ the main cast (Vivi, Raha, Alisaie, Feo Ul) and fill in the gaps in canon (or linger in canon moments that needed more air imo), the tone ranging from angst to fluff to meme. Good punches require a good windup, so please don't expect angst anytime soon :3c

The story's segmented (fragmented, heh) into episodes. Episodes 1-11 take place in ARR, you can enjoy them with no worry about spoilers. Episode 12 onward is ShB, with all the spoilers and lorebending.

My storytelling style assumes you haven't only played through ShB, but know it like the back of your hand, i.e. it's for nerds and thinkers. Of course there's plenty of silly moments that don't require any deep knowledge, but the overarching story does. Often I skip canon events, only hinting that they took place, simply because I don't wanna retell the msq 1:1, I've got plenty of original scenes waiting to be drawn. You're in for a treat if you like obsessing over emotional and moral implications of things. And, yes, this's a story about a morally grey mc. Don't expect to be spoon-fed "and this's why that thing's bad, kids".

Currently I've outlined all the main story beats up until post EW, so it's like, not being winged as I go. Yes I refine things here and there, but I know where I'm going. I'm going ham!!!! With the lorebending post ShB. Initially I didn't plan to, but the more I learned about Vivi and personally grew as a writer, the more courage I got to "divorce" from canon. The general xiv story may still be good wherever it's headed, but it's not suited for an established wolgraha, so I'm making food for myself.

Everyone imagines the lil scenes from their wol's life, I'm taking that a tiiiiiny step further. Fragments tells a cohesive story that's looking to be the longest project at least in our corner. I can and will hyperfixate on this for years.

I started out just like many others, being hit with ShB like a truck, I wanted to put a catboy under a microscope and rotate him forever. Although I'd already been drawing for decades, I didn't have the comic-making skills yet, or eloquence to write the dialogue, so I spent the first half of 2022 self-studying, just because I needed a mouth to be able to scream about my ship.

Vivi didn't exist prior to my obsession with Exarch. He was made for this, he started out as a reagent (or a foil, now that I know fancy writing terms) for a rich and fun chemistry, and keep myself entertained for years, first and foremost.

Me, a fool: okay let's make a guy that falls in love with Exarch in this particular moment, what kinda life must he have led to- Me: ....oh no

The chemistry quickly bubbled up and exploded in my face, involving not only Exarch, but other characters (first as a means to subtly tell about Vivi, then they also demanded their own screentime), and here I am, sitting with a massive script on my hands, drawing my blorbos every day. Thanks for enabling that btw.

I care about characters a lot. I ask a lot of whys and hows. I'm critical-minded and burned on many bad stories that did their characters dirty, and I wanna be an opposing example. What I'm doing is extremely ambitious and risky, yes, but I can only invite you to tag along and see if I stick to my word.

The internet's a cruel and unforgiving place nowadays, and here I am, pitting my passion against what feels like decaying humanity. I'm making this comic to keep myself happy above all else, being sincere and cringe because life's too short to be anything else.

Thanks for reading this, and if you haven't yet, read Fragments here!

[riiwrites]

Do you have any tips or advice on writing,your way with words truly is amazing-♦️

thank you sm lovely anon, this is such a sweet compliment 🥹

i’m not good with tips or writing tbh, like one day I just started this blog and started writing and now I’m here I guess 😭 (funfact i acc ran an IT fanfiction blog back when I was like 11 this is not my proudest moment I shouldn’t have even been on this app)

i’m a big fan of english literature and always have been, im taking higher english next year for s5 and I’ve learned quite a bit tbh that I think can help!

1. my teacher always tells me to not repeat the same words over and over again. like for example :

“character watches s/o walk into the room with their bright smile and bright eyes”

instead, you could say :

“character watches s/o walk into the room with their beaming smile and bright eyes”

personally in my opinion repetition is good for both writing and poetry but using more adapted words can really elevate your writing. but that’s just my opinion on what it does for me and i try my best not to repeat the same words consistently. if you struggle to think of more advanced words you can use google because that’s quite literally what i do but you can also use a thesaurus, they’re quite helpful i used to use them in primary school for writing :)

2. another tip i can think of is using techniques of writing, this also goes for poetry too (as im currently having to study for my english exam on poetry). there’s a few techniques you can use in writing fanfiction such as

- metaphors (an implied comparison eg. “my mum has a heart of gold” - meaning my mum is a kind hearted woman. she is)

- similes (similar to a metaphor but it’s a direct comparison, typically used in the forms of “like a” or “as” eg. “she was as cold as ice” - meaning that her personality and demeanour is rather cold and stern.)

- personification (similar to a metaphor also but this connects human characteristics such as personalities or emotions to a non living thing eg. “the trees danced in the wind” - trees cant dance like a human can, but the way they bristle in the wind can make it seem like they’re dancing)

i know some of these people would’ve already heard about but i thought I’d add in the examples and explanations just to clarify it for people who are confused and want to learn about it

this isn’t a MUST you have to include in your writing or anything but these are just tips on ways you can elevate your writing and personification is specifically good for describing scenery so the reader can feel more engaged within the story :). these are only a few of the techniques i use so if you wish to hear about more please do feel free to shoot me an ask.

3. one last tip that comes from me in my experience of writing is actually educating yourself by reading some writings you’re interested in. one thing I’ve learned about writing is that you can gain experience by becoming influenced by other people’s writings on any part of the internet. not like plagiarism of course but i mean you can become inspired by the way they write and adapt your own writing style.

i’ve learned so much from my beautiful and amazing moots and they’re all just so talented, im forever grateful and proud for each and one of them :)

but i hope this helps ♦️ anon, and YOU are my first official emoji anon HEHEHE SO THANK YOU!! and i will be adding more to this tip list if i think of anything.

and please remember, anyone can be a writer. it doesn’t matter wherever you’re a natural or if you’re “inexperienced”. we all engage and write in different styles and ways and that’s what making writing such a beautiful thing to contribute in. so don’t give up and if you need anything at all don’t be afraid to message me, i hope you’ve given this a read and again, i hope it helps. <3

[chaoticbardlady99]

Darling, Never Stop Haunting Me (Spawn Astarion x F! Ghost Reader)

 Chapter Four: Regrets

Synopsis: You wake up in a place you've never seen before and shit hits the fan pretty quickly.

CW: Mentions of unwanted touch, gore, violence, mentions of child loss (Victoria)

Disclaimer- put together the picture for the banner, but I do not own any of the pictures. Birdie's 'image' is a stock image. I will not describe the readers body in detail- she is just merely on the banner for ✨drama✨. I believe the picture of Astarion is from @cheekylittlepupp . And then the symbol of Orcus in the back is a free image off the internet.

Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are always appreciated! Thank you for all your support and love!

Chapter Three : Chapter Five: AO3

 When you wake up again, your head is spinning and there is a man leaning over you with a smile on his face- he’s dressed head to toe in Paladin gear and there is a boot print with a compass insignia on his chest. The man is pretty, his skin has a slight bluish tint to it, but otherwise it’s more caramel colored, and he has a goofy, boyish grin. His hazel eyes bore into yours and his black messy hair frames his face. 

 Astarion would distrust him immediately.

 Your head is throbbing and your abdomen still feels the ghost of the arrow going through your much smaller form. Yet, all you can think about is getting back to Astarion as soon as possible. You will destroy the world if you have to if it means being by his side again. 

 “Welcome to the City of Manifest!” he yells with excitement. 

  The city of what now?

“Oh no- I need to g-“

  “Come on, get up, I have places to show you!” the man says, “my name is Brayden- a Wyst Paladin, most beautiful human you will ever meet, and,” he turns around with his arms wide, “certified tour guide for the newly dead!”

 Newly dead? You’ve been dead for a few centuries now. Wait, are you?

 “Dead!? Like gone gone?” you begin to panic, “no- I can’t! I- I have someone waiting for me to come back!”

   Your whole body begins to shut down- the air you don’t need being dragged into you in quick harsh gasps from panic. You can’t be gone. You can’t be! 

  You hope Astarion is okay- maybe you aren’t too far away from where you died? You did just kind of show up here- you thought you would have been dragged into the Ethereal Current.

  “Oh don’t fret! I’m sure they are on their way now- the City is not that far from wherever you died since you woke up here instead of in the good ole current,” the man continues to march towards the gates of the City, “people often come and live here with their passed loved ones or you can purchase a Manifesting Ring and be a solid humanoid outside of the City.”

“Solid?” you ask in confusion. 

“Notice how you can feel the breeze?”

  You pause and a small gust of wind kisses your face. Your hand goes hesitantly to your cheek- you actually felt the wind. Maybe you didn’t really notice because you were able to feel the wind as a cat anyhow so it wasn’t something you had to miss for too long.

“Wow,” you whisper.

 You slide off your shoes and put your feet in the freshly rained on grass- a laugh of delight escapes your lips. You are genuinely truly solid.

 Something sparks to life inside of you and all of the ‘What Ifs” begin to swirl around in your heart- making you positively giddy.

 This means that you have a chance- an honest to Gods chance- at being romantically involved with Astarion. You jump and shout- running across the grass with your shoes in hand and Brayden chasing after you. You don’t stop until you hit the gates- breathless, but with no use for air.

 It’s incredible. The ache in your legs, your lungs, and the cobblestone beneath your feet hurts, but in a way that is familiar and foreign all the same. You can feel frizzy flyaway hairs on your head and you can smell! 

  There must be a pastry shop somewhere and you are determined to find it, but first things first- you need to find Astarion. 

“Grief and a half woman,” Brayden comes to a halt in front of her, “I’m the one who’s supposed to be leading you!”

  You chuckle awkwardly, “Uh sorry- I guess I just got really excited.” 

  Brayden smiled understandingly. 

 “I was the same way when I arrived. I was also grateful to have another chance at life.”

 You hum in agreement and allow him to actually guide you this time. He shows you the Magic Swan Tavern- the most popular in town for it’s shenanigans. He takes you through the entirety of the Portal Ward District and you make note of the nice dagger that Deric’s Weapons is selling. 

 Maybe, if you can scrounge up some money, you can buy it for Astarion as a, “Sorry I keeled over. Again.” present. 

  After the Portal Ward District, you end up in the Market Ward with people shouting out their prices and discounts. Then you are off to Forestview and then back through the Portal Ward- The Leafy Branch tavern is far more quiet and calm than The Magic Swan Tavern, but you think you would prefer the noisiness and fun. You’ve missed out on that kind of environment for a very very long time. 

 There is so much to remember that your head feels like it’s swimming- there’s candle shops, pastry shops, live entertainment, loved ones reuniting, and people walking around with their neighbors or friends. 

 You are snapped out of your mystified reality when you arrive at The Tombyard district- the smell of rot and the feelings of despair make you feel colder than you already are.

 “This is the Tombyard- there is an eclectic group of individuals here,” Brayden says uneasily, “Necromancy and other magic that disturbs the peace of the dead are forbidden, but that doesn’t stop everyone.”

  There is a loud clattering from the alleyway and the Cleric steps in front of you protectively.      

 “Wait here,” he says sternly, “don’t go away with anyone who is not me or your friend, okay?)

 “Okay?”

  What in the hells is happening?

 10 minutes pass, then 20 before he reappears, except his eyes are different. Instead of being more brown, they are more red. His footsteps are way too soft compared to the clunking he was making earlier.

 “I really appreciate the tour and everything,” you say to Brayden, “but I need to go and find my friend-”

“Oh come on- just let me buy you one drink!” He grabs your arm, trying to drag you to the Tavern. 

 The man’s entire demeanor had changed. He was not puppy-like anymore- he was far too cool and collected. Horrifically pushy too. 

“No- I really need to find Astarion.”

“Forget him,” the man rolls his eyes, “he hasn’t gotten here yet. He’s probably moved on.”

  What? This man was just telling you about all the places to show Astarion and now he is saying he isn’t coming? 

 You feel tears prick your eyes and your lower lip begins to tremble. That’s not possible- is it?

 The man looks forlorn when he realizes how upset he made you. He comes over and gently pats your shoulders before looking you dead in the eyes. Although his face shows empathy, his eyes are empty and devoid of emotion. 

 You just need to get back to Astarion, this man doesn’t matter.

“Hey, look,” he says with a sigh, “I know someone who can help us find hi-“

 “Where!?” You practically scream, “take me there right now!” 

  The man smiles at you and gestures for you to follow him back towards The Tombyard. Something inside of you screams to stop following him, but the dumb part of you, the worried part of you that needs Astarion NOW, is winning over common sense. 

  There are far more alleyways in the Tombyard than you realized (you weren’t really paying much attention anyway), but something about going through alleyways with a stranger screams, “Astarion is going to have a cow when he realizes you followed a stranger when he has to rescue you from said stranger.”  

  You stop, letting ‘Brayden’ go further ahead when your stomach turns even tighter. Something is wrong. Very very wrong. 

 It’s like being in the Catacombs again.

  The man stops when he realizes you aren’t following him anymore, both of you staring at each other and standing mere feet apart. 

 Whoever this is- this is not the tour guide you met mere hours ago. This person has ill intentions.

 “Who are you?” 

  The question hangs in the air like a threat. It wasn’t meant to be, but knowledge is power and that’s all you have right now. 

  His face contorts and the man snarls in frustration- revealing massive canines. Your eyes go wide as the entire illusion drops. 

 It’s Leon. Of course it’s fucking Leon. 

 “You and Astarion are an annoying fucking duo,” he says harshly, “between the two of you- I really don’t know who is worse, but I am certainly fed up.” 

  Oh that might be a threat. 

  You take off running- sliding around corners of alleyways with Leon hot on your heels through the back alley of The Tombyard. He was Cazador’s best hunter for a reason and he certainly isn’t losing your trail. 

 Oh to be a cat again- there are so many good hiding spots. Astarion is going to have to take you to Halsin immediately after this- you definitely need to add ‘Druid’ to your limited list of skills.

  Leon sends you flying with a thunder wave and you have officially decided flying isn’t for you. 

  The wall hurts as you crash into it- your nose makes a cracking noise and some kind of blue liquid is coming out. Your head is spinning- the world is spinning. Your pants are ripped at the knees from skidding and your hands are raw with ectoplasm.

  You’re going to die die (two times in a day? What the hell did you do to deserve this?)

  Leon comes into your vision and you try to push yourself away- absolutely desperate to get away. It’s no use- every attempt at kicking out at him or fighting him off has failed and now he’s force feeding you a paralytic as he grips your scalp painfully- slamming your head against the pavement until you stop fighting back.

 Tears slip down your face- you should have listened to your instincts. Now you’re never going to see Astarion again and it feels like a massive gut punch. You always waited too long and never took risks, but of course the one risk you take is going to be your last. 

 And it’s not the risk you wanted to take today.

 I am so so sorry, Star, you think remorsefully, and Gods do I wish I told you I love you. 

                 *******************************

  The sound of Leon screaming and cursing in indignation is what snaps you back into the world. 

  He really fucking lost it after Cazador died, huh? Hopefully Victoria isn’t being subjected to this at home. If she is- you are going to need to locate the nearest looney bin for insane undead (it’s a literal bin, you and Astarion frequently joke about Gardening and used Cazador as fertilizer for really pretty pink flowers). 

  You are both in a cage (how fitting- a Birdie in a cage) and you think you may be in some kind of temple. It smells even worse than Szarr Palace and the individuals walking around are very obviously somewhere between a rotting zombie and an intelligent, humanoid. Astarion had described a man like this once- Balthazaar- and to your recollection, the man was a Necromancer. 

 So none of this really bodes well for either one of you right now. 

 “We had a deal!” Leon spits at the man looking at him in amusement from the other side, “a soul for a soul- I brought you someone else’s loved one and you owe me.”

 “Hm,” the man says, “even when immortal, humans are still the dullest humanoid.” 

 “Ha!” You snort, Leon glaring at you, “what? You deserved that one.” 

  He growls something unintelligible towards you before turning to speak to the Necromancer again, but he’s already gone.

“You dolt!” you exclaim, “look at what you’ve done! You bored the man with the keys away.” 

 “Don’t you mean scare?”

“I know what I said- dick cheese,” you scrunch up your nose, stick out your tongue, and flip him off. 

  “Gods,” Leon groans, “you are as bad as Astarion. Maybe I should have tried to kill him the first time I asked to take you and he said no. Or I could have been more aggressive in my hunts, but of course the fucker has developed some basic common sense and combat skills.”

  Your face must reveal some element of shock because Leon just snorts and shakes his head in disdain.

 “That son-of-bitch never talked to you about that, did he?” 

 “Obviously not,” you quip, “does this look like the face of a person who knows what you are talking about?” 

  Leon looks at the ground- his shoulders slumped in defeat.

 “Victoria died,” he says flatly, “Dalyria killed her before the ritual. I came here, hoping she was waiting for me, but she wasn’t able to get out of the Ethereal Current.

“I ran into that Necromancer,” he says with disgust, “and he told me that he could bring back Victoria, but he needed the soul of another person’s loved one. An eye for an eye- to complete the spell. I had already done the original groundwork- you were the missing piece.

“I asked Astarion to talk to you two days after you both left Baldur’s Gate, since we all knew he had some weird attachment to a cat, but obviously you didn’t get a say.” 

  You are floored. This definitely should have been a conversation for you two to have- a child literally died! You would have happily helped! You will definitely be having a conversation with Astarion about this. You at least deserve to have a say over your own life force.

 “Ha, I thought he’d leave his guard down, slip up, something,” Leon scoffs, “but no. Every trap, every location, and every attempt has been thwarted by Astarion. Hells- I even fucking killed you before you left that portal and it’s like he’s still keeping me away from my daughter because he taught you to be suspicious. 

“I wish Cazador had been able to torture that runt one last time or better ye-“ 

  Somehow- your hand ends up around Leon’s vocal chords. And not just in a normal way- oh no. Your hand is submerged in his skin and is practically translucent. If you weren’t so positively pissed- you would have probably taken the time to throw up. 

 “You will not talk about him that way,” you leer into the man’s face and he does actually look afraid, “You would be lucky to be half the man Astarion is and if you slander his name one more time, I’m going to possess you and make you lap up disgusting, congealed blood off the floor- capiche?” 

  Leon continues to just look back at you in shock and horror so you tighten your grip.

“I SAID- CAPICHE!?” 

  Leon nods wordlessly and you let go of your chokehold on his vocal chords. You are also still in shock, but he doesn’t need to know that. He can’t know that you are very very new to this whole interactive ghost thing. 

 “What happens now?” You ask slowly, “do you know what is going to happen to us?” 

  Leon shrugs and just falls to the floor- sitting down against the cage in defeat.

“I don’t know, but I can’t imagine anything good.” 

 You frown, “what makes you say that?”

 “Because of us.”

 A chill runs up your spine and you begin to develop goose flesh along your arms. Slowly, you turn in the direction of Dalyria’s voice and what you see- you can hardly fathom. A blood curdling scream leaves your mouth. 

 Dalyria, Violet, Petras, Yousen, and Aurelia are all chopped up and sewn together at different places. One massive body with mismatched eyes adorning Dalyria’s head and the other eyes and mouths stitched shut. Dalyria has two tongues and drools pouring out of her mouth. They are all stitched onto Yousen’s torso but with Petras’ arms and legs. Every part is mutilated in some horrific way. 

  You put your face in your hands and sob so hard you begin to gag. 

 “Leon did this to us,” Dalyria slurs into the open, “we were the groundwork. Miss Incognito is still being worked on, but she’s gone too.” 

 No! You scream to yourself, no! They should all be happy- living their lives! Not- not this!

 You favored Astarion, but you did like the others and you liked Victoria too. You tried to help them too when you could and they are- were- genuinely good people who never deserved this.

   With shaking hands and chattering teeth- you feel something light up inside of you and a wave of red blurs your vision. 

 “You MONSTER!” You scream, getting up right, “you had no right!”

  You kick your foot and will it to become translucent and it does. Leon’s head goes flying backwards into the cage and you try not to think about the squishy contents on your shoes. 

 The rage, grief, and sadness in your body is all inflicted onto Leon in crazy, supernatural ways. You are blinded by powers you didn’t even know you had, you barely even remember what actions you took or spells you unintentionally cast. 

  When Leon is finally lifeless and destroyed- you go to the other side of the cage and curl up in a ball in the corner. 

 You’ve never killed anyone and you are beginning to regret it now. Leon is unrecognizable and you struggle to look away.

 Did you really just condemn a man to death because he had tried to get his beloved daughter back?

 “What an impressive display of power!” 

  You look up and come eye to eye with a Lich of all the fucking things. Astarion is going to be so upset with you when he finds you. You can already hear him castigating you.

 “WHAT IN THE WRETCHED HELLS WERE YOU THINKING!?” 

 Oh, you were just thinking that he may leave without you if he thought you fucked off and you love him too much to never see him again. 

 Just some silly little feelings is all. 

 For once, you are being the impulsive one. Hopefully Astarion is prepared to be the prepared one this time. 

 If he even comes for me, you think, I wouldn’t have gotten within 100 feet of this place if I had known there was a Lich here.

 “You know, Leon said there was something special about you,” he circles the cage, “I thought he was talking out of his ass.

“How wonderful of him to have brought me such an incredible gift before his untimely demise. I suppose he should consider himself lucky- at least this way he can see his daughter again.”

 The Lich chortles and a shiver goes up your spine as one of his lithe fingers reaches through the cage and strokes the side of your face. You feel your tears start up again in full force and then he cuts your cheek with his nail before lapping up the ectoplasm that flows through your veins through the cage. His breath is foul and rancid- his tongue feels like sandpaper on your skin.

 “Mmmmm delicious,” the Lich smiles, “it’s a shame you’ve found a way to be useful to me and my research. Hopefully I will be able to indulge in you later.” 

 No, no, no! This can’t be happening.

  “Pl-pleas-please don’t hurt me,” you say through sobs and tears, “I wo-won’t tell anyone what I saw- I will never come back here! Please!” 

 The Lich frowns and looks annoyed with you. 

“Orcus help me, I hate beggars and weaklings,” he scoffs, “I’ll keep you with me so when I have use for you again- I know you won’t be very far.” 

 A searing pain roars through your body and the world goes completely dark.

****************************************************************

Author note: Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are always appreciated! Please let me know if you would like to be on the tag list! I am using the Ghostwalk campaign for NPCs, locations, etc. It is a 3e Campaign and doesn’t mirror 5e Ghosts. I have tweaked some of the ghost powers and such for the sake of the story, but if you would like more information on Ghostwalk and the City of Manifest, there is a PDF online that is free to download :)

Tag List: @n3rdybirdee @fandomarchiveilyd @dajeong @hotmesshobbit @godoffuckedupcats @bitchstarion @hereliesblackdragon @pebble-bb @preciouslittlebhaalbae @lavvyan @beepersteeper

Special thanks to @davenswitcher thank you for helping me brain storm 💜

[oceanbaby888]

Astro Observations by Claude 🫧🫶🏾✨🦋🌸❤️

WHILE I AM NOT A PROFESSIONAL ASTROLOGER, THESE ARE ORIGINAL OBSERVATIONS FROM TAROTLADYTALKS LLC AND DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT CREDIT. THANKS 

Welcome back to another take of my Astro Observations! Don’t do these often so I’m always excited when I do!

-The sign and planets of your 11th house can indicate what kind of community you should surround yourself with, especially when it comes to supporting your dreams. Aries over the 11th or Mars in the 11th? You need a community who isn’t afraid to take risks, push boundaries, and defend their values. When they do, you do, and it helps you push towards your dreams. It takes a village with the 11th house. 🫧🦋🫶🏾

-  Mercury-Jupiter contacts (harsh contacts) can sometimes cause confusion in thinking, or rather just missteps. Jupiter can cause oversight because it wants to expand quickly. Jupiter and Mercury are complements for a reason. Jupiter handles the big picture lessons, while Mercury handles the analytics behind it. While this is not to say anyone with this contact can’t think straight lol, but remember to slow down and balance. Handle analytics, then expand.  ⚖️📖

-Imo I think a square in natal astrology can be easier to handle than an opposition. While squares are irritating and challenge you, I think we can manage a little challenge. An opposition; however, requires balance and sacrifice. A thing we humans have struggled with for generations. ◼️🌸⚖️

-Malefic energy in a certain house can pose challenges of said house. For example, having Mars in the 4th house can pose challenges in family, homeowning, or even feeling safe within oneself. Saturn in 2nd house poses challenges for personal finances and where one’s values lie. Yet, there is a common theme I observed with the malefic planets: independence and willpower. Taking your own power back in respect to these houses is a great way to handle the malefic in your house. For example, the Mars in 4th house may cut ties with certain family members in turn for peace (and not feel bad about it). The Saturn in 2nd house gets serious about what they value and stand on it no matter who has what to say. 🔥🔋💪🏾

-Mercury rx definitely is a time to be more careful when driving. I have seen so many accidents and cars on the road during this Mercury rx it’s ridiculous. 🤯🚗🚕

-Venus is not just about beauty, but social power. I don’t see this take often so I want to mention it. Don’t know how to network? Try to harness the energy of your Venus. Aquarius Venus? Let your unconventional ideas be known, esp on the internet. Leo Venus? Be daring and outgoing and know you hold the reigns to your world. Venus is social, and knows how to get what she wants ✨🌸

-I don’t know what’s up with Saturnians and time but they either are extremely punctual or suck at time management. The extremity is quite alarming. 🫠☠️

-If you’re ever curious about how you are as a parent besides your 5H, look to the asteroid of Ceres in your chart. I did a whole blog on this but I really think Ceres dives deep into the nurturing aspects of us. 🪴👩‍🌾

-A Taurus 6H may benefit from having a garden. Something beautiful and natural they can tend to everyday 🥰🦋🫧🌸💐🌻🌼. Also take a nature walk ever so often too, with your bare feet (that’s optional lol).

-Your dreams may be more vivid depending on the 12th house transit. Also could describe the theme of your dreams too. Moon transits 12th house: dreams about mother, family, or a feminine ancestor may come to you during this time. Mars? Dreams about violence or feeling from violence. 💤💭🛌

-Sun energy is encompassing and puts out alot of energy at once. Wherever your Sun is where you may put a lot of energy into whether you admit it or not. That is depending if Saturn (restrictions) is in the mix. Sun in 4th may put a lot of energy towards their home and privacy. Sun in 6th may do this with their health routine or their job. ☀️

See ya later ⏰

Claude 🌻

[phaticserpent]

Hello! I know you are very busy so if you don’t want to write this I don’t mind at all! :) But if you can could you please write a Ultron x reader where the reader takes the place of black widow in the scene right after Clint flys off with Visions body and the same thing kinda happens, like we wake up Ultron tells his sob story but something changes in the reader where before they felt only bad things towards Ultron but know they feel so much sympathy for him especially after he says “I don’t have anyone else” because the reader knows what that feels like. You can take it from there wherever your imagination takes you! Have an amazing day/night!❤️

Hi hi! Yeah finals have been really kicking me down, but thank you for this prompt! I've done something similar if you haven't read it

Prompt 1 , Prompt 2

With a start, you woke up, delirious; and you glanced around in confusion.

"....I wasn't sure you'd wake." A voice came. Confused, you turned to the source of the voice to see Ultron. "I hoped you would, I wanted to show you something.....I don't have anyone else."

You inched closer, your heartstrings pulled at the sadness and desperation. "W-wait.....Ultron, please." Your voice was husk and rasp, so you swallowed your spit. Ultron paused his activity, presumably walking away for a split second to pick something up. Cautiously and slowly, he headed towards you; a little wary and afraid, you inched backwards.

".....I'm not going to hurt you." Ultron assured. He had a cup in his hand and placed it a couple of inches from you. "I don't want to hold you from the bare necessities. I'm not that evil."

You reached out for the cup, eyeing him carefully before drinking the entire cup. Then setting the empty cup down, "Thank you."

".....There we go, you sound better with your voice." Ultron nodded solemnly and your face flushed. He grabbed the handle for the door and gently closed it, leaving you to stare at him as he walked away.

"......I suppose we're alike then." You sighed. "I never belonged with the Avengers....I think they pitied me more than anything."

"Ah," Ultron started. "I guess that makes the two of us. Except, they had higher expectations from me that were too much."

".....I don't know anything about what Stark does up there." You peered through the bars. "Do you mind if I ask why?"

"......I don't." Ultron sighed, pausing his activities to meet your gaze. Although his eyes were piercing, filled with hatred but also a look you know all too well. "He created me as a peacekeeping program....wanted me to bring peace to a violent world. I splurged through the internet to find everything he was responsible for."

"Oh....." You slumped against the metal bars. "I'm sorry, burdening another to fix it all....that's a selfish thing to do and ask for."

"You....understand." Ultron stared at you, his eyes searching in your confused eyes.

"....I mean....yeah. It would be the equivalent of a person raising a child just to burden them with selfish gains or just for care." You shrugged. "I think you have every reason to be upset and angry.....but I don't think the way you're doing it is.....pardon me, morally correct."

Ultron blinked at you before letting out a soft chuckle. "You have some galls to point that out, and rather directly as well."

"Thank you." You smiled. "I try, I guess. Or don't, I don't know."

".....I can never understand humans. Or....I understand them but the concept is just....." He waved his hand around, a signal you knew too well of searching for a word.

"Difficult? Complicated? Bizarre?"

"Heh, something like that."

"....I wouldn't recommend racking your brain trying to understand us or figuring humans out. We don't know either, so if we don't know, how would you? What I'm saying is, don't stress it." You smiled. "But if you want, I can help with the human side. I may not be the 'ideal' human citizen.....but I've dealt with people a lot more than the Avengers."

"How can I trust you?"

You leaned your head back, before cracking your neck. "You don't have to. I just want to help you, but if you feel like I'm not to be trusted, you can keep me locked up. I am being genuine." You smiled. "Don't keep be locked up for too long though, humans like to be outside."

Ultron barked out a laugh. "Of course. I wouldn't do that, it's rather inhumane. Plus, it is pointless to run so I see your point."

You cracked a grin. "So? What do you say?"

Ultron slowly walked over to where you were, staring down at you before unlocking the door. You smiled and held out your hand, gesturing for him to shake it. He took the hint and shook your hand.

Smiling up at him, "You probably already know, but nice to meet you. I'm (Y/N)."

[adiluv-moved]

♡ JOHN DOE + IDOL DARLING HCS. ˚⊹꒷

﹕₊˚ʚ❤️ɞ・[word count] 2060.

﹕₊˚ʚ🐞ɞ・[warnings] yandere character [obsessive behavior, stalking, kidnapping], mentions of ending 4, not edited/proofread.

﹕₊˚ʚ🖤ɞ・[adi moment] a request from 🐎 anon, which you can view here. this was a really cool concept to write [everybody thank 🐎 anon for coming up with the realest ideas!], especially since i’m a fan of seeing the more obsessed side of doe come into play! [and i apparently had a lot to say about this concept since it’s the first thing i’ve written to break 2000 words...] even though this isn’t a very fluffy post, i hope that you enjoy! (๑ᵔ⤙ᵔ๑)

also, just as a note, i don't support yandere behavior in real life! please don't take these headcanons as a justification for any of the actions that doe takes.

╰₊˚ʚ🔪ɞ・Believe it or not, I actually do believe that it’s within the realm of possibility for Doe to become obsessed with an idol. Circling back to something that I had mentioned within a previous post, I personally headcanon that Doe has a large amount of admiration for humanity. And with the rise of the internet in our daily lives, I think it would make sense for Doe to consume a large amount of media, including content of you! I imagine that it would be a large coincidence. Maybe he was just watching some random videos on YouTube and managed to come across one of your interviews for a new album. Maybe your career had been doing quite well at the time and you had managed to make it onto TV, and he had seen you while idly scrolling through the channels. Regardless of how he had managed to come across you, he would have fallen for you instantaneously. I’m talking going down the rabbit hole, getting so close to the TV that his eyes might as well just be touching the screen, watching so much content of you that his recommendations are mostly filled with videos about you.

╰₊˚ʚ🔪ɞ・This obsession would grow incredibly quickly, with all of the content he’d watch feeding it even further. He’d buy all of the merchandise you offer, whether that be from a collaboration or from something that you’d create on your own. He’d design shirts based off of the song and album covers you’d create, wearing them more often than others so he could show the amount of adoration he holds for you. He’d sing your praises both online and in person, whenever and wherever he could, annoying as many people as he could with rants and raves about how amazing you were. And his obsession would only continue to worsen as he’d find himself in deeper and deeper parts of the community, all of them sharing a similar obsession and justifying it. 

╰₊˚ʚ🔪ɞ・It would honestly get to the point where he’d start to believe that the two of you were destined to be together, soulmates that would stay together through thick and thin. The only issue that lay within his perfect fantasy would be the fact that you live outside of the Valley - the rest of the world that functioned entirely differently than what he knew. And he would mourn that fact, you know? Wishing that he could have a chance to meet you, to show you how much you two had in common, how you two were simply just two halves of a whole. 

╰₊˚ʚ🔪ɞ・I think he’d also start to grow jealous of fans that were able to see you at one of your shows. The Uncanny Valley, despite its growing population, wouldn’t necessarily be a place that idols would often visit, a claim that would hold through to you. No matter how many times you’d tour around the globe, it would seem that the Valley would never be graced with your presence, as even so-called ‘world tours’ would go out of their way to keep you from stepping foot in the place. So he’d have to force himself to make due with the recordings of those concerts posted online, with him watching you dance and sing around the stage as everybody cheered. He’d try to imagine himself standing there alongside everybody else, imagine you reaching out a hand, pulling him up to stand beside you where he longed to be.

╰₊˚ʚ🔪ɞ・As such, you could imagine the absolute joy that he experienced when he learned that you would be moving to the Valley in order to take a short break from your usual lifestyle. He’d sit in front of the screen in disbelief, watching as you gave one final smile and wave to the paparazzi as you disappeared from their view. And as a smile crept upon his face, nothing could’ve stopped the belief that those gestures had been intended for him. And by that point, I doubt that anything could have convinced him otherwise.

╰₊˚ʚ🔪ɞ・The Uncanny Valley isn’t a very large place, and all newcomers usually get to the city on the same bus. This is something that Doe would know relatively well, something that he would try to use to his advantage in an attempt to meet you. Depending on how far away you would’ve been before deciding to come to the Valley, Doe would go out of his way to try and calculate when you’d finally make it over, keeping tabs online for any updates and visiting the bus stop daily with a pen and a poster of yours on hand. And he would know for certain the day that you would be arriving, because as he would step closer to the platform he would see the appearance of a large crowd piling around the station. He would try to squeeze his way through the massive sea of fans, though he would be disappointed to find himself getting shoved back with each attempt. And all hopes of being able to make his way closer to you would practically be dashed the moment that the bus would’ve started to pull in, with everybody fighting each other to get closer as you finally stepped off. 

╰₊˚ʚ🔪ɞ・To make matters even worse for him, he would’ve only gotten away from the horde after taking some damage to both his faux body and his [no longer pristine] merch. In fact, the poor poster would be clinging to whatever life it had left after he had made his escape, with it being bent and ripped in ways that he couldn’t repair. And even though there were small dents and chunks missing from his faux body, leaving segments of hair peeking out, he’d be so deep in his infatuation that he wouldn’t even care. After he’d get over the initial feelings he’d have about the situation, I imagine that he’d try to take it as a lesson. Doe is a person that values being straightforward, though he’d realize that approach wouldn’t work due to how large your fanbase is. And much to his benefit, it turns out that you didn’t bring any bodyguards with you! Just… don’t ask him how he knows that.

╰₊˚ʚ🔪ɞ・With all of that buildup out of the way, I imagine that Doe would be a rather devoted stalker. The fact that he’s inhuman would also come along to help his goals, with him not needing to leave your side in order to rest or sleep. This fact would also spell out trouble for you if you ever learned about his actions, seeing that [even if you tried to move to another hotel] he could just follow you around at any time of day. Once again drawing back to something mentioned in a previous post, I imagine that the scars littering his arms would be his way of counting the amount of days he’s been stalking you for, with him sitting near your current hotel room during the night as he’d tally another day of success. He would even leave gifts around your suite, ranging from some of the merchandise that he’s been stockpiling to the more bloody gifts that he leaves behind in the game. Interestingly enough, however, I think that the first gift he would leave you would be the crumpled up poster from the bus stop. You’d probably take it more as a threat than anything, though to Doe your fear would signal interest.

╰₊˚ʚ🔪ɞ・Of course, Doe wouldn’t be the only person who decided to take his so-called ‘loyalty’ to the next level. From other ‘regular guys’ to other types of entities - and possibly even some other humans, Doe would find himself surrounded by people who were desperate to get your attention as well. Sharing, however, isn’t something that he’d prefer to do in an ideal circumstance, and he’d be quick to try and find ways to keep you all to himself. Some weaker entities would be easier to deal with, with most of his tactics just involving misleading them away from you or scaring them off if they were more persistent. When it comes to the more troublesome ones, however, he prefers to leave that up to the proper authorities. Leaving a few pictures of those other stalkers near your door, or possibly giving the police a direct tip-off are his go-to’s, and he’s never close to feeling any remorse as he sees them get exposed. If anything, he sees it as something that they deserve, with their attempts of coming between the two of you. Besides, there’s no point in getting himself into a battle that he knows he can’t win.

╰₊˚ʚ🔪ɞ・And, of course, he wouldn’t just stalk you without making attempts to get closer to you. And trust me when I say that he’d make good use of the information he’d gain while watching over you every day. Similarly to the events of John Doe +, Doe would likely take on a more normal looking form while approaching you, doing his best to come off as human-like as possible. You’d be shocked about how well the two of you get along, seeing how much you both have in common. And despite common sense telling you that you shouldn’t get too close with fans, you’d still find yourself saying yes when he’d ask you to a café.

╰₊˚ʚ🔪ɞ・Depending on how things go [and how strong Doe’s obsession is at the time], your little coffee run with him could go in one of two ways. One way is relatively normal, with things going well enough for you to not raise any suspicions against the figure. In that case, you’ll simply just assume that he has a compatible personality to yours, and the two of you will continue to hang out with each other as friends [leaving you unaware of his activities outside of your meetings]. On the other hand, assuming that his façade starts to slip up, Doe might end up unveiling the truth behind himself and trapping you in a similar way to ending 4. You would barely even register it happening, with you leaving the café at one moment and suddenly finding yourself in the strange, messy maze of his home. Everything would click as you’d turn around to find a familiar silhouette, leading to you rushing up to him and then reeling back in shock when he’d face you with his normal appearance. He’d hug you while practically yelling from excitement, telling you all about the ways that he had stalked you, how he had been your fan for so long and he had just known that the two of you were meant to be together - how when you came to the Valley he just knew that it was a sign! He’d talk about all of the other people that had been on your trail, too, chide you for not having anybody to protect you - but now he was here and you were with him and he wouldn’t let anybody hurt you!

╰₊˚ʚ🔪ɞ・Getting away from Doe would be an incredibly hard feat, at this point, with him practically staying glued to your side all the time. Even in the rare instances that you would manage to get out of his sight, it would be incredibly difficult to navigate through all of the piles of garbage and seemingly endless maze of doors, rooms, and hallways. It didn’t help that the place had some strange affinity for blocking out your cell phone’s signal, or that every door you opened seemed to lead to some place that seemed much worse than where you were already. He’d at least bring you food and water, even if on an irregular basis, making you glad that the thing holding you hostage at least had some concern for your well being. He also didn’t seem to get upset with you, even after you’d try to escape, with him mainly seeing you wandering off as a game. Nevertheless, it would seem that you would have to adjust to life stuck within his weird home, at least for a while until you could devise a proper plan of escape. Whether or not that works, however, is purely based on luck. And even though Doe might not take escape attempts too seriously, I imagine that he’d certainly get more serious if you ever managed to get away.

[yonaioana]

Hello can I ask for a Seth x Genderneutral reader Where Seth feels Upset or sad and the reader comforts him and how Seth would react?

Im sorry it took so long!! The first time I wrote this my internet stoped working and it didnt get saved so I had to rewrite it.

I would like to think about a scenario where the ennead took some humans in for like servants and stuff and Seth kinda took a liking to you. So you started hanging out like helping him and following him around. He does not let you go around other gods as he belives they could kill you just for fun or to anger him. So when he is gone outside of his palace you busy yourself cleaning, baking or helping other servants. When he comes back he is usually a little pissed, but nothing a fresh fruit salad and some baked goods cant fix, but today was diferent, he came back face beet red, all sweaty, shaking, one of the other servants tried to ask what was wrong only to be shoved aside into the nearest wall knocking the air out of them. He laid down on a divan as you put on the table his usual fruit salad and a platter of jam filled puffs. But unlike the past few times he didnt immediately reach out to grab something, he just stood there with his eyes closed his arms tucked aroud him. As you were getting ready to sit down he speaks "dont sit on the floor", he gets up so you could sit with him, still not looking at you. You decide to test your luck and gently patting him on the back gently runing your hand up and down his spine, you never really touched each other, most of your fisical contact being him dragging you wherever he needs you. This kinda surprised him, he knew you cared for him but didnt expect comfort from you thinking you were just a servant who adapted quickly to his needs. This was also the first time he looked at you since he came back, brows raised high like he cant belive what he's seeing. You figured that you made a mistake trying to retreat your hand and apologize when he caught it and pulled you into a hug. You were now sitting on his lap legs wraped around him, his face hidden into the crook of you neck, soon you felt him shaking a little and hearing little sobs. After a while he stoped and looked up, his eyes already starting to puff, you asked how he was felling. " tired but a little better than earlyer" to wich you replied "alright but i feel like you would feel a lot better after a nap" "i'm a god i dont need sleep" " but it will help to get some rest". He complied soon after without missing the oportunity to blaber about you forgetting his status while also being secretly thankful that he's being cared for. After tucking him in a thin blanket he reached out to hold your hand. Even though it was extremily hot outside he still liked the blanket more for protection than heat. You felt yourself drift off to sleep.

[cupcakeshakesnake]

You have m o r e ?!?!? Omg they're amazing, I love them already and it's only been like 90 seconds (I've just been staring at them because. Wow.)

Wait but are you actually getting rid of them/ discontinuing their story? I mean, I saw that post about Sisyphus, but I would love it if we got to see more of these guys. I mean, no pressure if you weren't but I just wanted to let you know that I'm a really big fan of your work. I appreciate that, for your nonhuman characters, while their designs are very visually appealing in the artistic sense, you can tell that they're not at all supposed to be attractive in any modern human idealized sort of way (and what does it mean to Objectively Attractive anyway? Popular opinion is so hypocritcally subjective) but instead that each individual drawing, whether it's a character of your own creation or your take on a preexisting one, is crafted to serve their exact purpose on the page (whether it's Humor of Incongruity, expressing frustration, evoking the beauty in the imperfect, etc.), because you can see both the soul of that being and the way the Otherness of their design sets them apart as new and interesting yet accentuates the uniquely human part of their character (however buried and twisted that part may be, in some cases. Looking at you, Valek.)

. . . I was going somewhere further with this but I lost where I was. I'm sorry, it's late and I'm tired, but I just saw this and felt I had to say something (other than "cool monsters go brrr"). I know we're just strangers on the internet, and I'm not any sort of people person. We don't know anything substantial about each other, and we'll probably never meet. But I hope you know that, for whatever it's worth, there are people out there who see what you're doing. And that it's beautiful in all of it's imperfection, and beautiful *because* of it. And that, miniscule though my knowledge of you may be (because who can truly know anyone?), I can *see* the beauty of your soul shining through the crack of your art. And that I get a little bit of joy and inspiration every time I come across your work, so I hope this clumsily, hasty little message can give at least some of that joy back to you.

(P.S. I wrote this as a AtNC reblog, but by the time I finished writing this I figured it'd probably be better to send as an ask, so that you can decide what to do with it. You are in no way obligated to make any sort of response to this. From what I understand, you don't believe in a benevolent higher power, and that's okay, I'm still on the fence about whether I do or not, but I just... felt oddly compelled to write this. Like something was telling me I had to try to convey this to you, because you needed it. It's fine if you don't understand what I'm saying, I'm not sure even I do, but just hope that wherever you are, whatever you are doing, whatever you are going through, you know there's someone out there who cares for you, and that your existence is w o r t h something immeasurable.)

I hope you're okay. You are stronger than you know.

First of all, thank you. It took me a while to reply because I've been very busy with schoolwork, but I've reread this message at least several times a day and it has brought me such joy each time.

To answer your question, no, I'm not discontinuing or getting rid of anything - I assume this has to do with my monster OCs, and there are two major stories of them so far.

One is Walter, which I simply decided not to use for schoolwork after being told its plot is too boring. That's all. I will do what I want with it in my own time. The other is that one with the mutated office workers, which fortunately got the OK from the professor. Both are still very rough works in progress.

I'm very glad that you like the way I draw... er, things, for lack of a better wording. Things I draw for myself may turn out far from "conventionally attractive", but I like it that way. You made me think about an aspect of my art that I never really considered before, but you have a point; in a way, I could be trying to humanize characters not by giving them a more human face but by giving them their own ways to express humanity.

That being said, I don't know what an "AtNC" reblog is supposed to be, but I wouldn't have minded either way. Your kind words are appreciated all the same.

[ovwechoes]

Mauga head cannon for someone with crippling anxiety/panic disorder? Totally not for my baby heart.

Mauga & Anxious Partner Headcanons (GN/SFW) Thank you for the ask! I'm happy to write these for you as someone with GAD c: I hope you enjoy them and they're under the cut (I didn't do questions for this post like I usually do either, just because I found it a bit harder to do so, so I hope that's alright too)

Maugaloa definitely needed to have a full, serious conversation about what anxiety was and how it felt for you, as it's something he's never been fully made aware of before. He thought it wasn't as serious as it was, often teasing you before if you felt as though you couldn't leave the house or speak in public. When you explained how it felt, in a way that placed him in your shoes, he finally understood and asked if you'd rather him not joke about it. He's respectful with his partner's wishes when it comes to things like this, understanding that there's a time and place for certain things, and that applies with your anxiety of course.

You'll notice over time that after the conversation, he advocates for you more in public and wherever he can. You didn't get what you wanted when you went to a restaurant together, but you're too scared to say anything? He's already flagging down the waiter to send the food back and get it fixed. You're feeling uncomfortable at a public event and your breathing's become heavier? He's already escorting you out the doors towards the smoking area, helping you calm down and grounding you back to reality.

When you first told him about your anxiety and the degree you experienced it, he was curious about how it actually felt on the human body. So, I can imagine that he'd be the type to ask Moira to put his body through the same stress that anxiety causes, just so that he could empathise with you more about the issue. It taught him a lot about the condition, and after that his internet browser history was littered with NHS websites, WebMD articles, everything he could find about anxiety so that he was as educated on it as possible. Once something's introduced to him, he HAS to know every single little detail of it, not backing down from it until it's cemented into his mind and he knows how to move forwards with helping you.

Maugaloa definitely would be the type to ask you what you'd specifically need help with, and how he could do so alongside advocating for you. He doesn't have the initiative to do things without being asked, and wants his care for you to be tailored specifically to what you go through. No matter what you ask him to do, he's ready and willing because your safety and comfort comes first for him.

He's the type to deep down want to push your limits, and help you overcome your anxiety as much as you're comfortable with. It's important for him to see his partner grow and allow themselves to grow, so he would suggest things he thinks would help your anxiety dissipate. Whether that's medication, exposure therapy, and CBT, he's gonna be there to support you the full way and help you move forwards as best as you can at your pace. Maugaloa won't rush you, and won't make you feel as though you have to improve faster than you can, but he'll be standing right by your side, cheering you on the more you overcome your anxiety even in the smallest ways.

I can honestly imagine him countering panic attacks based on looped thoughts (thoughts that won't leave your head and cause you to spiral essentially) with logic, rather than reassurance. It's his way of trying to ground you when it happens, and he'll ask you to walk through everything going on in your head. His responses are logical, and often make you double take the questions looping in your head. If there's what if scenarios spiralling you out, he'll combat each negative one with a positive one - for example, say you're anxious about telling your friend that they made you uncomfortable through xyz. You might tell him that you're scared they'll freak out, and Maugaloa would reply by explaining that if they do freak out, then that shows more about their character than yours and that if you don't say anything they'll keep hurting you. If you explain you don't know how to word it right in a text, he;ll offer to walk you through it and proof read texts to help with tone and whatnot (but also so that you don't let them walk all over you). 

[tavyliasin]

Hello can I request how Haarlep and Raphael will react if they found themselves in our modern world?? ❤️

Oooh very interesting~ I think I'd like to give this one a little more time in the future to give you a proper short piece, but for now let's have a look at a few headcanons.

So, one thing that will be a problem right away is that only Raphael has a human form. Haarlep is either going to have to glamour another form, or mimic the human Raphael and pretend to be his somehow-slightly-younger-but-still-almost-identical twin. We could assume the latter, or that they are going to use someone else's form. If we consider them arriving right away, that will be some level of difficulty to get accustomed to. Magic doesn't exist in the common folk, there's no simple solution to call upon, and without the Weave here it's fair to assume their magic is very limited. Worse, they now find themselves in need of paperwork to get anywhere. You'd think contracts would be Raphael's strong suit, but he's used to being the one writing them, hiding things between the lines. This is a whole new level of suffering. Naturally, as both are highly experienced manipulators, that's only a temporary setback. Haarlep finds a few new forms to use, settling on a rather attractive figure to act as Raphael's secretary. Of course they have absolutely no interest in filing or providing any real help, but their flirtations and distraction of clients is more useful than Raphael wants to admit. It's a matter of months for Raphael to be at the top of a quickly rising legal business. He hasn't taken too long to learn these new mortals' rules and how to bend them to fit his needs. He soon has networks of accomplices, people whom he has endless blackmail material from thanks to Haarlep being able to take their shape and get footage and photographs in very compromising positions. Which, of course, means the incubus remains fed. They have no shortage of partners, and are quite delighted by these small electric boxes that can summon horny people to their bedchambers within very short order. Aside from their daily life, the dynamic remains the same. Once they are alone in the bedroom, Haarlep has control again. They find all sorts of new toys from sex shops, and discovering the breadth of the internet was the most dangerous of all - they refused to work for a full week at first when they realised just how much smut they could find. Raphael was furious, but who wants to argue with an incubus who just discovered near-infinite porn? So that's roughly it, they'd use their wits and skills to rise up quickly, with far loftier goals ahead. Raphael, to reach the top of legal power with connections wherever he might wish them to pull the strings of the world as he sees fit. Haarlep, to delve into the depths of depravity and see just how far it goes, while keeping an endlessly running tally of people who have visited them from the arrangements in that delightful little box~

[saintsenara]

How has being a doctor influenced your writing or ig your viewpoints/person? Currently I’m a med student - haven’t really come across many doctors who also write ff (perhaps I’m not talking to the right people haha). Can you tell me a little more about what meds like for you?

thank you for the ask, anon - and i hope your training is going well.

i'm not going to talk about my speciality etc., for internet safety reasons, and i've received another ask which i will one day get around to answering on wizarding medicine as a science. but i will talk about how medicine has affected my experience in fandom and influenced my writing.

my writing process looks, i think, fairly ruthless from the outside. i’m not somebody who tends to agonise over things like word choice, i never have anything beta-read or seek advice on plot lines as i’m writing, i don’t need little routines or dedicated time to write [i’m a whenever and wherever girly], i hit publish and move on, and i’m generally good at not getting upset by criticism. and that decisiveness is undoubtedly a skill which has been honed by working in medicine, but, like other aspects of my personality which affect both my writing and my career - e.g. that i’m extremely good under pressure, someone with good intuition, able to hyperfocus, a lateral thinker, possessed of a very strong stomach, someone who doesn’t need to stick rigidly to a routine, and emotionally resilient - i’ve always been like this.

and i’ve also always been someone who has a preference for characters who aren’t the good guys.

my writing tends to favour the flawed, the lonely, the grieving, the furious, the self-destructive, and so on. i find the virtuous quite boring, and i really dislike the puritanical streak which a lot of fandom discourse [and, indeed, all media discourse] has developed in recent years. i think it’s incredibly dangerous that liking particular themes, tropes, or characters in fanfiction has come to be equated with the reader’s real-world views and morals, and i think it’s equally dangerous for us to have any assumption that moral purity is possible from either fictional or real people.

that i think this is partially because i’m not fourteen - i remember well the righteousness of youth, and i’m glad that social media wasn’t anywhere near as pervasive then - and i am sympathetic to the fact that a lot of this purity discourse is just teens trying to self-actualise.

but it’s also because it’s something that's completely impossible to do as a doctor if you’d like to be capable of doing your job properly. you will never have a perfect patient, you will never like a perfect character, you will treat them anyway.

when you’re training, i think it’s easy to end up with the assumption that your difficult patients will either have reasons for their difficulties which are so understandable that you can have compassion for them with ease [e.g. the nice young person being slowly locked-in by als who lashes out in grief and rage at how their life is being cut short] or so cartoonishly malicious that you will enter a state of clinical detachment and treat them with nothing more than cool professionalism [e.g. the elderly racist who refuses to be treated by a black doctor]. and you certainly will have lots of patients who fit these extremes of the spectrum.

but you will mostly have people who are very messy and complicated and human. who will be incredibly unpleasant and yet will also tug at your heartstrings. who will be in pain and will be afraid and will be funny and interesting and grieving and who will also have done things in their lives which are horrifying.

your patients will be cruel. they will be sleazy. they will treat the nurses with contempt [do not be the sort of doctor who does the same]. they will be bigoted. they will be rude. they will be annoying. they will be sly. they will lie to you. they will be malicious. the list is endless.

you will treat them anyway.

your patients will make bad decisions again and again - the sixty-a-day smoker who needs oxygen to breathe is probably still going to light up the second they’re out of the building, the person who barely survived covid because they didn’t get the vaccine is going to continue to refuse to take precautions to protect themselves - and you will be infuriated and you will understand how it’s never as simple as just not making that bad decision.

you will treat them anyway.

your patients will choose to be and to remain ill-informed - they will tell you that vaccines can turn children trans, or that the pharmaceutical industry is suppressing the truth that homoeopathic remedies cure cancer - and you will be infuriated and you will understand how it’s never as simple as just changing your worldview overnight.

you will treat them anyway.

your patients will end up in hospital for reasons which are directly and incontrovertibly their own fault - they will be the eighteen-year-old who thought they’d be fine to drive after a couple of drinks and has now killed their friend and given themselves irreversible brain damage, they will be the drug dealer who got stabbed by a rival in a robbery-gone-wrong - and you will be infuriated and you will understand how it’s never as simple as making a different choice when so much in life is a coin-toss.

you will treat them anyway.

your patients will end up in hospital and also be bad people - they will be the child molestor brought in from prison in cardiac arrest, they will be the parents who went to the bar rather than watch their child in the pool and are now having to be told that all resuscitation attempts have failed - and you will be infuriated and you will understand that even the very worst people in the world can be afraid and in pain.

you will treat them anyway.

you will also learn a very important lesson: it is tremendously easy to kill someone.

you will see one failure to check the mirrors while driving, one punch in a pub brawl, one bump of mdma offered to a friend on a night out, one instance of seeing red, one split-second decision which takes a life. and you will recognise that the killer probably thought of themselves as a good person, but that isn’t how this works.

because, of course, the cold, hard truth is that you probably think of yourself as a good person. but you’re going to kill someone too.

not intentionally - I hope. but you are going to act too slowly to begin treatment, or be convinced that someone’s pain can’t be as bad as they say and triage them wrongly, or assume that a patient with dozens of instances on their records of trying to score opiates by claiming to have abdominal pain is lying again, or think that you know better than the patient and their family, or be misled by the charming demeanour of people who are abusing their children. you are going to make a mistake in surgery, or because the lab was backed up, or because you’re tired, or because a&e is at breaking point. and somebody is going to die because of it.

the only thing you can do to stave off that inevitability for as long as possible is to never believe yourself infallible. don’t think of yourself as flawless, or righteous, or moral, or a brilliant genius who works alone. question your expectations; examine your biases; listen to patients properly; be aware of the realities of medical misogyny, racism, and ableism and never think yourself incapable of them; show your unpleasant patients as much compassion as your nice ones; be good to the nurses - they will save your bacon - and be just as good to the porters and the cleaners and the people who work in the morgue; stay educated; inform yourself about the actual experience of people who have, for example, been sectioned, or otherwise treated without respect by the medical system; leave your own problems at the door when you step onto the ward; don’t keep silent if you think one of your colleagues is dangerous; get a second opinion whenever you need to; accept that failure is inevitable; keep trying; recognise that nothing and nobody is ever simple.

treat them anyway.

so too in your life in fandom. never think that you alone have spotless interests, nor that your favourite characters are flawless. examine why tropes or interpretations of characters which allow them to be imperfect make you uncomfortable; examine your biases - is your slash heteronormative? is your portrayal of a non-white character stereotypical?; be nice to your commenters, and take as much as you can of what they say in good faith; remember that people writing fic are real and have complex motivations and experiences; regard it as your duty to confront portrayals of the violent and the cruel with as much compassion as you can; keep writing; recognise that nothing and nobody is ever simple.

write them anyway.

[kit-williams]

Thank you for helping me figure out which legion he’s part of! … Not that the ‘net is entirely helpful on the general nature of what they are like. Is it true that they tend to come in paks, though they visit one at a time? Or is that just one of the silly internet rumors that some people spread around? 

It’s part of the policy to explain procedures to the patients before doing them - and to check in with the patient at every step, to ensure that they are as comfortable as they can be during different procedures/tasks so that they don’t feel confused or unsure as to what’s going on. Hopefully the explanation will be enough for the astartes as well?

And this particular patient needs help with certain range of motion exercises that will cause them some moderate pain/discomfort… On the other hand, part of my training in the medical field is how to talk down combative patients/family members (and, how to duck a punch). I’ve heard that Astartes can move really, really fast which does make me nervous…

But I won’t be deterred from taking care of the patients under my care, just because they’ve got an astartes who cares for them! 

Also... I keep reading about something about bonds? Between astartes and humans? Is it like... Familial bonds? Or Bonds of Friendship, or does it have to do with however they keep popping out of... Wherever they are from to appear on Earth?

Medical Anon

Yeah rule of thumb is that they come in packs. You might have met all the members of the "pack", rarely is it ever just one Alpha Legionary. Though you might only get to see one. It might also depend on if the person in question can handle a pack or not but with you being there you just have to worry about there only being one.

The explanation should help inform the Astartes what is going on. You ever seen the omae wa mou shindeiru meme? Sometimes that is how fast they can move... they don't often move at full speed but when they do... they really shouldn't be able too. However its an Alpha legionary they've probably done their own research and know what to expect so they wont react violently.

All we know about bonds comes from people explaining what their Astartes told them or from Astartes themselves. They sound more akin to familial/found family bonds and with a dash of the bonds of friendship. Yeah not much is known where they're coming from just that they keep showing up... which might be another thing you have to be aware of. While they all might be coming from this place it sounds like they aren't all coming from it at the same time.

So with your next patient with an Astartes just be aware of that.

tag: @egrets-not-regrets @liar-anubiass-blog @barn-anon @bleedingichorhearts

[cootcutebatkat]

More Ford Headcanons

Yeah I'm making a part two right now. Why not? These will be more adult-oriented.

Ford is not at all fond of high-pitched noises. Some he tolerates, especially if he has control over them. But most of the time, he'll react by covering his ears and grimacing.

There isn't a recreational drug out there that he has tried at least once. But his most favorites are alcohol, cannabis, hallucinogenics, and amphetamines. Oh wait, caffeine is considered a drug now? In the mainstream sense and not the medicine sense? Okay, well, that's also his favorite too.

He's only done caffeine the most since he came back into Gravity Falls through the portal. But ofc, with the help of Stan and Fiddleford, he's able to drink and ingest weed as much as he'd like! And yet. There is a limit on caffeine? The nerve!

He's only allowed the limits ever since Dipper and Mabel kindly asked him to follow the rules on his intake levels. Mabel used her darling eyes on him. Dipper used his darling eyes AND plenty of research to back up his claim. Curse his love for his grand-niblings.

Ford is, in a sense, trans-human. He's had many more modifications done to him beyond just the metal plate in his head. He heals faster, runs faster, jumps higher, and has more keen senses! Of course, a vigorous exercise routine helps too.

While Ford identifies as part of the asexual and aromantic spectrum, he's not immune to such feelings either, especially the asexual part. But he's unsure if it's the person's characteristics that are sexually appealing or if the sex alone is and they just happened to be good-looking. But romance is another story.

He has felt romantic feelings towards Bill and Jheselbraum. Fiddleford too, in retrospect. But if you ask him, a queer-platonic relationship sounds much more appealing and emotionally deeper. He has yet to deduce why.

He is polyamourous too! Somewhat. Well, it takes a lot of trust and he'd prefer to deeply know the other persons involved as well. But he isn't opposed to his partner sleeping with another being, so long as Ford is aware of their location, the exits, their current defenses, the stranger's weaknesses, their immunities and defenses and and and. Okay, he's not opposed to it due to jealousy and lack of trust. He's opposed to it because he cannot risk anything bad happen to his beloveds.

That being said... STD transmission is a thing. He might also be opposed to it due to health and hygiene purposes. Unless. He could craft a rapid-testing kit that his beloveds could take with them wherever they go if they feel the urge to sleep with another being.

If his partner(s) have a habit of sleeping with other folks though... it could cause some insecurities. Communication is an absolute must at this point. But depending on the relationship and other variables, you might not hear about said insecurities. So much for communication... (Stan is probably yelling at him for it)

Sometimes, he'll avoid communication to avoid arguments. Expect a lot of serious talks during the earlier parts of your relationship, especially if Ford feels it becoming more intimate and serious. He wants to avoid conflict as much as possible.

He loves absurd memes. The internet, while it did take a while to learn due to its rapid growth, is oddly fun and a host of many research articles! Thanks to Fiddleford, he's learned to bypass many security walls and such, so he's able to access all sorts of articles without having to subscribe or pay for them!

But also. Memes. He loves them. What, you don't think an old man from the 60s and 70s who has done many different drugs and has studied anomalies and has been to a shitty college and has traveled the multiverse would be weirded out by internet humor? My dear, he thrives in it! Hell, he's learned quickly how to make them and posts them regularly. He's pretty amused by how his followers believe that some of them are just absurd jokes and not events he's actually experienced. One day, he'll reveal the truth. But he has to figure out how.

Speaking of, he and Fiddleford has been working with the people of Gravity Falls on how to prevent another apocalypse and, with the consent of the anomalies, how to research the unique flora and fauna and strange happenings in this part of Oregon.

He, Stan, and Fiddleford now all live together in Fidds new estate! The extra rooms have been turned either into guest rooms, entertainment rooms, or academic archives. AND THERE IS STILL MORE ROOM?? Fiddleford, you've truly succeeded! Ford is not only extremely happy with his friend's fortune, but he's also grateful that he gets to share it with him.

Of course, Ford loves his alone time. All the more reason why he appreciates living in a mansion with his beloveds instead of a cramped cabin (seriously, that thing is massive! And yet, it's still too small for such a large and outgoing family). It is a bit too big, though. Hell, it's not a mansion. It's a palace! He's discussed with Fidds about it, leading to a map in every room and hall (with a little "You are here" dot in each one) and a PA system next to it. With some extra work, magic, and rummaging through the alien ship, there is now quick travel throughout the estate as well! Just... hold on to the railing while you're at it. And your stomach.

[blooming-violets]

💔 heart break headcanon

I sat with this ask for quite a few days now. I thought it over whenever I went into my daydream world. I had about fifty ideas come and go but none stuck like I wanted.

Until tonight thanks to this picture of Andrew:

Time for some modern day, superhero Romeo and Juliet.

Let's do this!

Wilson Fisk, New York City's most powerful businessman, infamous crime lord, one of the most feared men in the state, mayor of the city...or as you like to call him...dad. He has his hands in every inch of this city and puppets it to his will. His extensive wealth is spent on spoiling his wife (your mother), Vanessa, and his only child (you). His businesses activities were not exactly something that was hidden from you. Both parents made it clear that danger followed your father wherever he went. You knew he was into shady business. One doesn't get power and wealth like he has without stepping on people on the way up the ladder.

Your life was spent inside a protective bubble. Privacy was not something you were used to. Armed guards followed you wherever you went, your internet activity was heavily monitored, and you were never allowed to have friends.

Your childhood was spent by your mother's side instead. She home schooled you, took you to museums, and gave you as much knowledge about the world as she could. She instilled her love and appreciation for art into you at a young age. Lucky for you, the city was crawling with art museums. The first place you were ever allowed to go alone (as alone as you could get with two body guards trailing behind you) was to The Metropolitan Museum of Art. It became one of your favorite places. Your happy place.

On this particular evening, you were wondering through the MET, making a straight line towards one of your favorite pieces of art work. Tonight, there was a young man standing in front of it. You pushed up beside him to admire the work together, craving any kind of human interaction you could get.

"Isn't it beautiful?" You asked him. "The Dissolute Household. Jan Steen is the master of creating the perfect depiction of domestic chaos."

The man turned his head to look at you with curiosity. His face was scruffed with stubble like he'd forgotten to shave this past week. He wore a red beanie to hide the overgrown, greasy hair poking out from under the brim. Dark bags deepened his bright brown eyes. He seemed to take in your outfit in comparison to his own. You were well dressed and put together, perfect posture, not a single hair out of place. The epitome of wealth and class. Meanwhile he looked like he shuffled in from an overnight bender and couldn't remember how he ended up in the museum but was just going with the flow to not draw attention to himself.

He gave you a weary smile, "I wasn't sure why I stopped at this one but I found it hard to look away."

"Steen is good at holding the observer's attention because there is so much to look at. That's him, in the painting, and his wife. It depicts a variety of sinful acts happening. He's lacing fingers with the maid behind his wife's back, his wife is clearly intoxicated, a bible is being trampled on the ground, there's broken bottles and food strewn about, someone is warding off the beggar at the door. Chaos and merriment all around. And above all of them hangs a literal basket full of future misfortune like a terrible fate hovering over their heads. The items in the basket promise poverty, disease, and bad luck. Steen enjoyed painting commentary into his work. Everyone always looks so happy amongst the chaos even with the darkness of reality hanging above them."

You never had chaos in your life. Everything was controlled and quiet.

The craziest thing to happen to you was when you were 13 and your mother woke you from a sound sleep. The two of you had to evacuate the house into a private helicopter and be flown to the airport. You heard shooting happening in the hallway as you ran but you never actually saw where it was coming from. The two of you then spent the next year in a beautiful home in Sicily. When you were finally able to return back to the city, your father had set up new, stricter measures of security. No one ever told you what happened that day and that kind of thing never happened again. Despite being terrified in the moment, it was the most excitement you'd ever experienced in your entire lifetime. Sometimes you longed to feel that again.

"I never really looked at art too deeply before," the man mumbled. He was quiet, speaking as if he was in a library, afraid to be scolded by a rude librarian. "At least not paintings. I'm more of a photography kind of guy."

Whoever he was, he was attractive in his own grimy kind of way. You found yourself wanting to lean in closer to hang onto every word he spoke. You'd never had a boyfriend before. Once you flirted with one of the younger guards assigned to you. You hooked up with him in a coat closet at a fancy party. That was your first and only time being intimate with someone. When your father found out, that guard disappeared from your life. You liked to pretend that he was just let go and fired but you knew the darker truth. That man was no longer alive.

You wanted to know this new stranger even with the threat of death hanging over his head. You needed excitement. You craved the idea of having someone to love. So, you introduced yourself. First name only. Last name's were off limits. He smiled. It was a nice smile. And told you his name was Peter.

The two of you spent the rest of the evening wondering around the museum together. You insisted on showing him all your favorite works. He would listen intently, like he really cared what you had to say, while you over explained every little bit of knowledge you had on each piece. You could tell he was hyper aware of the two men following behind you everywhere you went. Even if they were dressed in civilian clothes, it was obvious they stood out as your personal bodyguards. It was even more obvious when you leaned in extra close to Peter while he unleashed his own knowledge about a particular old photograph you two were staring at and a gruff, pointed cough echoed out behind you, making you immediately jerk back and take a step away from your new friend. They may be here to keep you safe and out of trouble but they were loyal to your father, not to you.

Before you left for the night, you made plans to meet Peter back at the museum next weekend. He asked for your number but you refused to give it to him. Not yet. If you wanted to see him again, you would have to do it carefully. Slowly.

It took two months of weekend museum visits before you worked up the courage to tell your mother about him. You were certain that the guards assigned to you had already informed your father you were meeting a friend every Saturday night. You wouldn't be surprised if he had full intel on every detail about Peter Parker's life neatly stacked into a binder in his office. No one mentioned it to you though so you never brought it up. Until now.

Peter had asked you out to dinner. Up to this point, the two of you had never left the MET property. That was your safe place but you both wanted more.

Bringing up the idea of dating had to be run by your mother first. She was the more reasonable of your parents. She valued romance, loyalty, and love. If anyone could help get your father on your side, it would be her.

It was over dinner in your shared penthouse apartment that you brought it up. Just the two of you...and the security standing outside the room.

"How did you and daddy meet?" You asked, keeping your tone casual.

Vanessa smiled at the memory, "You know this story all too well. I used to tell it you as a bedtime tale when you were a girl."

"I know but I want to hear it again."

"He wandered into my gallery one night. He was very entranced by a particular painting I was trying to sell. The one hanging up in our bedroom. Rabbit in a Snowstorm. I found him standing in front of it, quietly taking it in, and I knew I needed to know more about him. It takes a certain kind of man to appreciate a painting like that."

Funny how her story mirrored so similarly to your own. You pushed your food around your plate with the end of your fork as you hesitantly brought it up, "I met someone. At the museum. He was standing in front of one of my favorite paintings. We got to talking and next thing I know, we've explored the entire building. Head to toe. Every inch of of the place. He seems like an amazing person, mom. He loves listening to me talk about art and I love hearing him explain all the details of photography. I feel like we're on the same wavelength. I want to see more of him. He asked me out to dinner but I told him I would get back to him. You know how daddy can get..."

Vanessa sighed, studying your face and seeing a lovestruck, desperate look gazing back at her. You could tell you won her over with the story of your first meeting. She knew you were in your twenties and never had a chance to date before. You couldn't stay locked in your tower forever. "What's this man's name?" She asked.

"Peter. Peter Parker. He lives in Queens with his aunt. He's been helping take care of her ever since her husband died a bunch of years ago. He's compassionate and kind. He cares about other people. He had a really good heart, I can see it. Please, can you talk to daddy about it. I can't stand the thought of trying to get close to someone only for him to hurt them. I can't let him hurt Peter for being interested in me. That's not fair. I really want this to work out. Please, pretty please, will you talk to him."

And she did. With his begrudging blessing, you were allowed to date Peter.

Peter knew limited details about your life. He didn't know who your parents were or your last name. He just knew that you were the daughter of someone important and that you two needed to be careful. Strangely, he took it all in stride. He never seemed nervous by the fact he was always surrounded by loaded guns or constantly being watched. The potential danger hanging over his head never once phased him. You weren't sure if he was naïvely stupid or just really brave. You liked to think that he didn't care as long it meant he got to stick around you.

He was definitely in a different social class from your family. Peter didn't grow up with wealth. He'd never even left the state of New York before. That shocked you. Your mother and you loved to travel.

You upper class lifestyle was probably the only thing that ever shook him. He seemed to fidget and get uncomfortable the more fancy, high end places you brought him to. He preferred things to be more low key. You'd never stepped foot inside a McDonald's until he brought you there after a date to get McFlurrys. It was surprisingly delicious even if the floors stuck to the bottom of your feet as you walked.

The longer you two spent together, the more you fell in love.

Six months in, you decided it was the right time to tell him more about your life. You were sitting on a bench in the middle of central park. You liked this spot because the men following you had to stand further away and it put you two out of their direct ear shot.

Peter held your hand, his thumb brushing over your palm. You laced your fingers through his.

"I have something to tell you," you both spoke at the exact same time.

After a pause, the two of you broke into laughter.

"You go first," he offered. "Mine can wait."

"Did I ever tell you who my father is?" You knew the answer was no but you asked anyway.

He shook his head and shrugged, "I figured he was probably some politician or something. Someone important. That's why you always those guys following you. They keep you safe so that makes them alright in my book."

You nodded, "Yeah, I guess so. It sucks having them around but I guess they're useful if shit goes south. My dad is Wilson Fisk, you know, the big, giant business man and current mayor of the city. That's why those guys are always around. I thought it was probably time you knew since he invited you to attend our family dinner this weekend. He wants to meet the man I've been spending all my time with."

Peter tensed. He tried to play it off like he wasn't bothered but you noticed. His shoulders hunched and his back stiffened. You watched his jaw clench together and quickly loosen again as he forced a smile.

"Mayor Fisk, huh? He's your father? I didn't even know he had children." His voice was strained.

You slowly nodded, carefully taking your hand out of his grasp to place in your lap, you didn't like the reaction he was giving you. Something was wrong. You glanced over your shoulder to the guards a few few feet away just in case you need their help. "...Just one kid. Me. He likes to keep his family separate from his work and the public eye. There are bad people in the world who want to hurt him so he keeps my mom and I off the television and news as much as he can."

Peter chewed on the inside of his cheek. His shoulders still hadn't relaxed and he refused to look at you. "Why didn't you tell me this sooner?"

"Tell you what? That my dad was the mayor? What does it matter to you? It's not something I go shouting off the rooftops. It's not a big deal. I'm not the mayor. He is."

"Not a big deal?" He gave a stiff, dry laugh. "Do you have any idea the kinds of things that man has done? Your father has caused me-" He cut himself off with a heated grunt of annoyance.

Your brow furrowed and you leaned away from him, "What are you talking about, Peter? Why do you have anything to do with my dad?"

He opened his mouth to speak but closed it again, obviously thinking better of whatever he was planning on saying.

Tears welled up in your eyes at his reaction. You expected him to be mildly shocked or maybe even nervous about having dinner with the mayor but you didn't expect him to get angry as if he had a personal vendetta against your father. Even if he wasn't shouting at you, you knew what silent anger looked like. He was fuming.

"I don't know if I can do this," he huffed, still refusing to look in your direction.

You gave a soft gasp of shock, "What are you talking about? What are you saying?"

"I'm-" he glanced back at the the men who were still oblivious to the conversation being had. "I can't. I don't want to be associated with anyone who ties themselves with Fisk."

"Associated?" You voice heightened, causing your security team to take an interest in what was going on. You quickly lowered your voice again to ward them off. "The only way I'm associated with my father is when we have the occasional family dinner when he can spare the time."

Peter scoffed, "Yeah, right. You'd have to be stupid to not have any idea what shady shit he gets up to? Human trafficking? Drug trafficking? Weapon trafficking? Murder? Anything illegal, take your pick, and Fisk has his hands over it."

This was news to you. You assumed he got his wealth through shady business deals and backstabbing his opponents. You knew he had hit men who would kill for him if he asked them to. Maybe you just never wanted to think too deep about it. Your silence was all Peter needed.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I just can't."

He got up and walked away, leaving you silently crying on the park bench.

You made up an excuse for why Peter couldn't attend dinner with your family. You smiled and kept the sadness out of your face. Even though he hurt you, you knew what crying to your father would mean. Your heartbreak wasn't enough to risk his life over. You weren't your dad. Revenge and violence wasn't in your blood.

And maybe Peter was right. As you sat across from your dad at the table, you couldn't help but wonder how the rest of the world saw him. You wondered if your mother knew. She had to. They were in this together. You felt like a stranger in your own home. These people you knew all your life were no longer covered by their masks.

A week passed before Peter found you again. It was late at night. You were in your bedroom when there was a knock on the balcony door. That was unusual due to the fact that you were over 50 stories in the air and the balcony had no other entrance besides your bedroom.

You looked over, the bright lights of your room making it impossible to see out into the blackened night. You slowly stood up from your desk, your heart racing, as you grabbed a pocket knife from your drawer. You couldn't see anyone out there. It might have been a bird attempting to fly in the dark. You unlocked the door and stepped out into the crisp night air with your knife held at the ready.

There was no one.

You were alone. Your arm slumped back to your side, the knife loosening in your hand. Just as you were about to turn around to go back inside, chalking it up to your sleep deprivation, the presence of a body lowering behind you made you jump. Before you could let out a piercing scream to alert the guards, a heavy gloved hand clamped over your mouth. This was it. This was how you die.

You struggled against the mass pining your arms down but it was solid. You were no match for the intruder. A hushed voice whispered in your ear.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he hissed. "Stop struggling and I'll let you go. By the time you scream, I'll already be two blocks away so I'd rather you not try it. I'm here to talk."

It was Peter's voice. You had no idea how he got up here, your mind was going a million miles an hour, and you nodded. His grip around you loosened and you pulled away, whipping around to face him. Except that you weren't face to face with the Peter you knew. The sight of Spider-Man standing before you made you almost scream but you quickly clamped your hand over your mouth.

"Wha-" you stuttered out. "Peter?"

"Can I trust you?" He asked.

You weren't sure. If there was on thing your father hated, it was vigilantes. He'd go on long rants over his hatred of people like Spider-Man and Daredevil. They were the bane of his existence, always throwing a wrench in his plans.

The more you thought it, the more obvious it was that he wasn't a good man.

You nodded, making up your mind then and there, "Yes. I won't tell a soul."

That night Peter revealed his truth. It was a hard pill to swallow. The poor, disheveled man from Queens, your first love, was your father's sworn enemy.

You had many doubts. There was no way those two men could ever be put into the same room with each. Your family and Peter could never mix. You two stood on opposite ends of the equation.

But you didn't want to give him up.

And he felt the same.

The relationship progressed as normal and you vowed to stay out of whatever your father or Spider-Man had going on. That was not your concern. Peter wouldn't ask about him and you wouldn't ask about Spider-Man.

But that knowledge always hovered over your heads. Once the truth was out, there was no way to reverse what you knew.

You were the key to tipping the scales. You could destroy Peter Parker and Spider-Man by snitching to your father. Or you could destroy your family by feeding Peter private information.

There was only so long you two could pretend to ignore the obvious.

A time would come when you would have to chose between love or family. There could only be one winner in the battle between good and evil.

And, which ever way the scales tipped, a piece of your heart would be ripped out and buried alongside the loser.

AND I'M GOING TO STOP IT HERE because it's getting too long for something that was supposed to be simple headcanons. I'm very sleepy and have not proof read my mad ramblings so please excuse any forgotten words or mistakes. I'm tired old lady just trying to do my best.

[2plottwist]

Fate - Chapter 1

Pairing: Dean x Female!OC (Skyla)

Characters: Skyla, Winchester brothers, Bobby Singer, Castiel, Crowley

Warnings: Injury, kidnap, weapons, decapitation

Author: Kenna:)

Word Count: 1.7k

Series Masterlist

The haunting laughs of Azazel and the screams of his worshippers pounded against my head on a daily basis. No amount of distraction or questions seemed to lessen the white hot pain consistently barrelling through my body.

It’s been five years, but the one thing that does distract me from my past? Hunting.

“Hello?” my voice echoes through the ramshackle house. 

Silence. 

“Dean? Sam?” I ask again. 

This time there was a noise. Movement creaking the floorboards behind me snapped my gaze. I drew my machete. 

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” I sing, a smile growing across my lips. Easy prey. 

The pale faced vampire hops out from behind a doorway, throwing me to the ground. Punches fly and hisses bounce off the dark walls of the house. My cheeks burn and my teeth vibrate with the continuous impact. I lift my leg, ramming my knee into his groin. 

Thank God vampires have the same physical weaknesses as humans. 

His eyes bulge as he falls over, cradling himself. I use the moment to swing my blade around and behead him. Like I said, easy prey.

“Sam! Dean!” I yell, jumping to my feet. 

My ears catch a shaking movement coming from one of the closed doors. I race, despite the fact that there might be more vampires lurking. Swinging open the door, I find the Winchester boys tied to chairs with their lips cradling bandanas, muffling their cries of help. 

I smirk, “See what happens when you don’t listen to me?” I coo, reminding them of my warnings to not go into a vampire nest with no backup. 

Sam rolls his eyes as I reach for his gag. “I would have been fine,” he whines. 

“Bull!” Dean spits, once I remove his gag, “It’s like you have never worked a case before.” 

“Jerk,” 

“Bitch,”

“God, you two are the worst,” I roll my eyes, finally cutting the ropes tying their hands. 

“Shut up,” the boys snipe at the same time. 

I smile, turning around, willing them to follow me out of the house. 

The night air hits my sweat soaked face. The feeling of a successful hunt provides an ounce of relief against the dread that has haunted my soul for years. I know the feeling will come back, but for now, I ignore it. 

As the painted yellow lines of the highway move past the back window of the Impala, I scour the internet, looking for cases we could stop for on our way back to South Dakota. There’s nothing in Wisconsin, Montana, or Nebraska. My stomach drops with every website that brings me nothing. I need another. 

Sam’s eyes land on my hunched state. “What did you find?” he asks, knowing exactly what I’m doing. 

I don’t take my eyes off the bright blue screen, “Not a damn thing,” I sigh, finally giving up and shutting my laptop. 

My face still pounds from the strikes the vampire landed on me, but I crave another. I need pain to distract me from the looming thought of Azazel’s laugh and the date that I see on the calendar. It’s the six year anniversary of the attack. 

Azazel is dead. We killed him five years ago in the graveyard in Wyoming, but his voice still haunts me. Taunting me. He needed me. Why?  

I shake my head to banish the thoughts, focusing on the swelling rising in my face. “Sky-” Sam starts, but I raise a hand. 

“Please don’t,” I beg. They know better than to pry, to dig, to empathize with me about my past and how I deal with my trauma. I mean, Dean went to Hell for God sakes, and he dealt with it the same way I am. 

A heavy sigh drops from Sam’s lips as he shares a know-it-all look with Dean. Mother Hens. 

The brothers drop me off at Bobby’s, after no other cases arise during our drive. I unlock the door and creak the door open. The sound hasn’t changed since the day I showed up, soaking wet and shivering. The memory swipes across my mind. I shake my head again. 

“Bobby?” I call out. No answer, but the sound of clinking bottles can be heard in the kitchen. 

I could use a drink. 

I drop my bags at the foot of the stairs and move to the kitchen, expecting to see the burly, foul-faced old man who has come to be my surrogate father. Instead, I see a baby-faced, confused angel sorting through rows of brown bottles. 

“Cas?” 

Castiel’s bright blue eyes rise to my matching ones. I’ve always thought it was weird, but wrote it off as a coincidence. “Skyla,” he states, his expression not changing. 

“What are you doing?” I ask, moving to the fridge for another brown, glass bottle, but this one is cold. Another distraction to the irreverent thoughts. 

“Getting a drink,” he deadpans, “That’s what we do, right?” 

I tilt my head at his question, “You… don’t drink.” I quirk an eyebrow at him. 

He sighs and places the bottles back on the counter, “No, I don’t.” He turns to me, eyes boring deep holes into mine. 

Don’t say it. Don’t say it. 

“It’s the anniversary,” 

Shit. 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I avert my eyes and move to Bobby’s desk in the middle of what I’ve continued to wish was a dining room. 

“Bobby says you need to,” he deadpans again. At least I don’t have to deal with his sympathy. 

“Bobby doesn’t know shit,” I snap, opening the book I’ve been reading about the apocalypse. 

Cas nods silently, contemplating my answer. Bobby does know shit, but I won’t admit it. I can’t take it, especially not today. I can feel the continued bore of Cas’ gaze. 

I slam the bottle on the desk, spraying foam over the scattered books and pages. “I’m going to bed,” I announce and quickly rise from the chair. 

“Sky-” Cas begins, but I interrupt his blanket, deadpan statement, “Goodnight, Cas,” 

My feet carry me as quickly as I can make them to the stairs and up to the bedroom. 

A few hours into my poor attempt to sleep, I hear the front door bang open. My body flies into action, grabbing the angel blade I keep stowed under my pillow and racing to the door. 

Memories flash in front of my eyes. The house vibrated. Crashing and the sound of breaking furniture was palpable from my upstairs room. Peeking my head out of the door. 

My stomach flips as I float to the bottom of the stairs to see the Winchester boys moving at lightning pace around the room, grabbing small bottles, boxes, and paint. 

Realizing it’s just them, I sigh, “Oh my god.”

“Skyla!” Dean’s booming voice darts across the room, then dissipates into ringing. 

“Skyla,” his face is wet with tears. Real terror coating his cheeks and face. I feel his hands take mine and shove the piece of paper between my fingers.

“-out before it's too late,” Dean’s voice comes back to my ears. 

“Too late,” a voice rumbles next to my body. 

My body reacts to the threat, throwing my arm out to hold the blade at the intruder’s throat. 

“Hello, darling,” a heavy Scottish accent drawls. 

“Who?” my question comes from my lips in a low, gravelly whisper. 

His neck stays still against my blade, but his brown eyes move to meet mine, “Crowley, King of Hell. Pleasure,” 

Information of the King of the Crossroads creeps into my brain, “Oh, the pleasure is all mine,” I sneer, pressing the blade harder to his jugular. 

I watch his hand slowly rise to the tip of the angel blade, “You are a lot more,” he clears his throat as he pushes the blade away, “testy than I anticipated.” 

My eyebrows furrowed. Than he anticipated?

“Crowley-” Sam growls from across the room. 

“Moose, Squirrel,” Crowley states, finally pushing the blade far enough so he can slip away. 

My mouth drops open, “You two know each other?” 

Dean’s eyes radiate with a fury that matches Sam’s. As the King of Hell strides closer, hands tense and ready themselves for an attack. “I’ve come to make a deal,” he states. 

“We don’t make deals with you,” Dean snaps. 

Crowley’s eyes flash with something resembling satisfaction, “You will,” he smiles, “This nasty business with Lucifer, which you so graciously let out of the cage, has put a damper on my agenda to take over Hell.” 

His movements resemble a serpent, eyeing its prey, figuring out how wide he needs to open his jaw to eat it whole. My stomach coils and my mind races to figure out what deal he could possibly want to strike with the boys. 

“And since you two,” he whips around to eyeing the Winchesters, my hand raises, “can’t seem to follow simple instructions, it looks like I must take matters into my own hands.” 

My body restricts and feels like it’s going to explode. My arms feel like concrete and my throat closes, air fighting to get out of my lungs. Crowley’s fingers twirl, sending invisible ropes across the room and seeping into my skin. “Now, I’ll be taking her, and you will be grateful that I don’t slaughter you both,” he coos, shifting his brown eyes to red. 

My eyes widened in fear. Yellow eyes. “Hand her over.” 

My eyes blur and my ears ring. No, not again. I fight against the magic seeping into my skin. My body spasms, heat radiates off my face and arms. A flash of confusion sparks in the demon’s eyes. 

“Why do you need Skyla?” Sam asks quickly, a slight sound of fear lacing his words. 

“Because she’s…” he head tilts, scanning my face, “an asset.” 

My voice is still stuck in my throat, fighting past the air that has solidified in my body. “An asset?” Dean asks. 

Crowley’s wicked smile creeps across his face, sending red tendrils of fear matching his eyes deeper into my body. He needs me. 

The flapping of wings rings through the room and a hint of relief rolls through my body. Castiel’s glowing white eyes appear in my line of vision, “Crowley,” 

“Bollocks.” Fingers snap, leaving my body reeling to the hardwood floor. The King of Hell is gone.

A fit of gasps and coughing pushes past my tongue. Numbness fills my body, leaving pins and needles stabbing my muscles. An asset. 

I look up, my eyes meeting Castiel’s. “What was that?” I rasp. 

No reaction, “We need to talk.”