#this took me a while to write though

[luckyartdrawer]

In a very spooooooooooky mood this month.

Been feeling rusty with drawing after not doing so for a few weeks, so made this simple Moon. Spooky goober <3

vvvv Alts, Yapping, AND HUH??? UHH??? vvvv

Alts

I was messing around with the line art layer and saw a blue version and just ran with it. I like the blue, and the contrast with the red makes me happy so I decided to keep em. :3

Practiced using the golden ratio too! He's spooky and perfect! <3

Oh also.

WHEN I GO TO ADD MY ART THIS IS IN MY CLIPBOARD AND IM SO CONFUSED WHY IS HE LIKE THAT-

MOON???? MOON ARE YOU OKAY??? WHY ARE YOU IN THE CORNER???? AND I DIDN'T MAKE A BLACK BG???

AM I HAUNTED NOW??????????????

I guess its fitting for spooky month at least.

[luminique]

if i may... late night bike rides with lighter 🫶

whether you know how to ride a bike or not, most of the late night bike rides are on his bike. he makes sure that everyone is asleep before heading out with you. this way, he could have your arms wrapped around his waist as he drives out of blazewood. the road is pretty smooth for the most part so he takes this as a chance to sneak his hand onto yours, as if to fix your hand placement. in reality, it’s his way of knowing that you’re there, holding onto him.

it gets colder during the night in the outer ring. no blazing sun, the skies are clear, the iridescent edges of multiple hollows. he knows the perfect spot to stop at that had the best views. he clumsily removes his gloves off before putting a hand out for you to hold as you got off the bike. he has all these sharp parts on his gloves and he does not want you getting poked by it.

the stars twinkled across the night sky, it was breathtaking. with the outer ring depending on oil rigs, carbon emissions were high and yet it seemed like this was the only area untouched by it. your eyes may have been on the stars but his eyes were on you. you’d tell him to take his shades off because what’s the point of wearing them at night but he doesn’t want you to see how smitten he is.

it started off with just sitting on the ground. then it progressed to laying down side by side while talking. after a while, he’d notice your change in speech. how you’re talking slower and quieter. that was when he knew that you were getting a little tired. so as usual, he makes sure you’ve got something comfy under your head.

using his arm, he’d guide you to place your head on it. he’s definitely going insane at this moment but you were too busy trying to fight off your sleepiness to even notice his flushed face. you were practically talking nonsense now at this point and then a sudden silence mid sentence.

he doesn’t dare wake you up, instead choosing to watch you sleep. the way your chest goes up and down with every breath, your body unconsciously moving closer to his, searching for some sort of warmth. with his scarf, he’s slowly wrapping it around your neck instead. it’s not that big but it’s enough for the time being. the sound of your breathing and the sounds of wind in the outer ring, he finds it serene enough to rest his eyes, falling asleep right next to you.

you’re woken up by the soft light of the sunrise, eyelids fluttering open. you don’t see lighter next to you but his scarf is still wrapped around you. his voice calls out to you, casually leaning against his bike. he’s facing the sunrise but his eyes are on you. he wouldn’t mind doing this again, as long as it means he gets to spend time like this with you.

[wandixx]

Ok it closes out on me when I tried typing it the first time-

Anyway, I'm a sucker for shock value ones, just so funny to me, so how about M'gann being nervous about introducing bf danny and it happens at an inconvenient time! Could go ghost royalty, ancient of space or anything, hell ghost as dragons would be pretty funny, up to you though!

I'm not sure if I did a good job at this, but I didn't want you to wait too long and real life is keepimg me busier than expected, so for now, it's here. I may continue it one day (I also have different version of fill for this prompt, because neither idea felt right, so if you'd like to see I too, just let me know whatever way is most convenient to you)

This wasn't supposed to happen like that. M'gann didn't have a super detailed plan on how it was supposed to happen, but even her vague (thought and rethought every night) ideas were anything but this. It was supposed to be a calm, low-stakes situation. Maybe even make it look like an accidental meeting, Team in civies hanging out around Happy Harbour, bumping into Danny and then she'd just introduced him, perhaps adding ‘btw, he is my boyfriend’ almost like an afterthought. This seemed like the best possible scenario.

This was also, as expected with the way hero life is, the exact opposite of what actually happened.

Of course, it didn’t start with anything heralding the absolute disaster this day had to become. Kinda accidentally the Team stumbled upon something between a cave and a basement, and in it a group of people, who decided to perform a summoning of a genie so they could… wish for stuff. They didn’t even look like cultists or villains of any sort, just a group of random adults from seemingly very different backgrounds. M’gann had a really hard time understanding what actually brought them together other than their wishes.

Which was actually pretty useful when it came to fighting them, because nobody really cared about their fellow summoner, just trying to save their own butt. She kinda wished more of their opponents were so incompetent.

Though, she spoke too soon because in the excitement of the fight, somehow all of them didn’t realize that one or two of the summoners… actually managed to finish a summoning. It was honestly a little bit embarrassing.

But, it was too late to dwell on all that, as right above the summoning circle appeared a circle in a worryingly familiar shade of green.

Of course, this one time she didn’t have any equipment from Danny, had to be when the Team encountered a ghost.

Ghost in question was a beautiful woman, with long hair covering one of her eyes, in a blue outfit that was related to one of Earth cultures, but M’gann didn’t know which, and a bunch of bracelets on her wrists. Martian could make a hazard guess on who it was, based on the stories Danny told her.

“We don’t have time for explanations, I think I know who this is, if I’m right for the love of everything that’s dear to you, don’t say the word ‘wish’ out loud” she demanded over the Mindlink.

Before she finished, Artemis took silver tape from somewhere and slapped a piece of it over Wally’s mouth. M’gann understood the sentiment but still… it was a little bit too nuclear option.

Desiree (if it was her) didn’t attack anyone, looking a bit confused, giving Team a moment of reprieve to plan and for Kid Flash to make sure none of the summoners could make whatever wish they wanted either. Also with the use of silver tape. Djinn’s were always tricky.

M'gann used this moment of everyone getting their bearings to curse herself for not bringing any ghost weapons this time. Any other mission, Team or not, she had something on her but today? Today she had nothing.

Excluding the summoning engraved into clips holding her cape but it was kinda last resort. It wouldn't annihilate everything in one mile radius or something but she didn't want to drag Danny there if he was during a test, other ghost fight or something. She knew better than anyone that he didn’t need more distractions.

Conner crashed into a wall right next to her. Artemis seemed to lose her cool when none of her arrows seemed to reach the ghost while Robin was trying to make some counter plans with Kaldur. They couldn't do a thing to Desiree and it was a matter of seconds before she stopped entertaining them and went to the city. It… would end badly, most likely. Danny would prefer to get involved before it got that far. Yeah…

She really wished she didn’t have to call.

“I have an idea, cover for me for a minute or two”

“Bold of you to assume we can stop her from anything”

“I believe in you Wally. Just distract her”

“My water attacks seem to be effective weapon against her”

“That’s aster! What do you plan to do, M'gann?”

“Summon another ghost”

She expertly ignored yelling that followed, taking the golden clip off of her cape. She held fabric in place with absentminded use of telekinesis, while she focused on an engraved pattern. Danny's summoning circle wasn't actually too complicated or intricate but she needed to do it just right. And frankly, she just liked looking at it. Physical proof that her boyfriend would be there if she needed it. Drawn representation of who he is, the deepest and truest parts of his soul written in the language that only Universe itself could fully understand.

And it was beautiful. Absolutely incredible. Much better than Desiree's circle, thank you very much.

M’gann dropped to her knees and grabbed leftover chalk from previous summoning and crouched to quickly draw Danny's seal. She had a lot of practice from all the times she doodled it on a whim just to get something of him with her when she missed him the most. She rarely actually summoned him, again, it was difficult to align their schedules, but she was very familiar with the first step.

And it was really easy from there.

She placed the clip in the middle of the circle, shapeshifted one of her nails to get a bit of blood on the chalk and leaned back.

After a careful, deep breath, she started an incantation, putting as much power in her voice as she could.

“I call upon you guard of Amity Park, I call upon you dearest child of the Ice, I call upon you one favored by the Time, I call upon you vanquisher of the Fear, I call upon you subduer of the King, I call upon you defender and the guide, I call upon Phantom, both worlds beloved child”

Circle erupted in green light, putting a momentary pause to the fight. M’gann was still blinking spots away when a figure flung itself out of the summoning circle, right at the Desiree.

“What the fuck?!”

Only after the first punch was thrown did Danny turn back to her, with his usual, somehow both gallant and bashful smile, that without fault made her knees get a little weaker. She smiled back.

“Hello Starlight” he greeted, sounding almost casual.

“Starlight?”

“Hi Angel. Nice of you to drop by” she answered in the same manner. Wally tried to yell from behind the duck tape.

“Angel?! M'gann, who is he? Who is she?!”

“I will always come if you call” he said without any doubt, suddenly as serious as if he was sharing information that could break or make the world.

It certainly worked like that to her world. She actually melted a little on the inside.

“I know”

“Actually, that's kinda cute. I still have no idea who this is, but you go girl”

“I feel like it's not the right time Artemis”

“Not to interrupt… whatever this is, but the other ghost is escaping” Robin cut in “Also, if you want to make out afterwards, please find the room, Batman and Catwoman are traumatizing enough“

Few people snorted, while Danny blushed green. He darted back at Desiree, clearly to escape the embarrassment. M’gann stood up, totally at ease now, that he was there to take care of it.

“Will you need a hand? I don't have any tech but we have a trick or two up our sleeves!” she asked, projecting her voice so it carried through the cavernous basement without yelling.

“I'm good for now but thanks for asking!”

“M’gann, can you give us anything substantial? Who is this? How do you know him?”

“One question at the time and let's wait until he finishes, okay?“

She cut off Mindlink before anyone agreed or protested.

“Miss Martian!”

“Soup time!”

With a blast of light, Desiree got sucked in and Danny landed in front of them with a proud grin.

“My job here is done”

“It truly is. You're getting faster too”

“And thanks to who is that?”

“You”

Danny sent her both an incredulous and playful glare.

“Of course. I miraculously found a ways to not be a mess and don't crash through every wall on my way and–”

“Well, no but–”

“Let me remind you, you're not alone… also who are you dude? And where did the other lady go?” Wally asked, right after ripping the duct tape off his mouth.

“Oh, well, I'm Phantom, I usually work in Amity Park?” he said a bit unsure, as if calling him a protector was under any question. That just wouldn't do.

“He's a hero from Amity Park”

“Thanks love. It's nice to finally meet you all. M talked a lot about you!”

“Can't say same about you, sorry”

“That's fine. I know M was agonizing over how to introduce me in the best way possible. I'm really happy it's finally over,” he paused for a moment, with his brows furrowed “Did I do good? This first impression thing?”

“You're… far less imposing that I personally expected after hearing Miss Martian summoning you, but–”

“M’gann how could you hide this from us?” Conner blurted out quietly, and oh, he sounded so utterly crushed. Everyone fell silent, the playful atmosphere gone as if it had evaporated.

“I never intentionally hid it. It wasn't significant enough to mention at the start and when it became important I felt like I couldn't just drop it at you during lunch or something. I always planned to tell you, there was just never the right time nor right words. I never wanted to hide it.”

“Even just me?”

“Especially you”

“You still should've…”

“Yeah, I should. I'm sorry”

“How long ago have you met?”

“Half a year ago,” Danny said before she managed to answer “It's all kinda my fault actually. I was really set on not getting mixed up with more hero business than I had to back then. I didn't want you or Justice League finding out about me. And when I agreed, it was already really late. I'm sure she'd told you all from the get go if I let her, I'm sorry”

“Why wouldn't you want us to know about you?”

“It's… Probably not the conversation we should have right here, over gagged wannabe cultists.”

“Valid. Let's call the cops and get going. You two have much to explain”

“And you're sitting eight feet apart until you do!”

Danny leaned in to kiss her, quick and playful, before he jumped back at the demanded distance.

“Well, this still went better than at your side”

“Absolutely”

*******

Also, here is some lil arts for a longish wait, sorry again, I hope this story is yours to your expectations

[whumpdoyoumean]

Whumptober #22

A/N: Surprise! This is a precursor to day 8. I actually had this one planned ages and ages ago, before I'd written 8. I tried to write them so that each one could stand on its own and not be too confusing, since they're being posted out of order. Anyway, enjoy!

xxx oh, that's not good

"I didn't see any sign of him," Guy frets as she and Lamb reconvene at the front entrance of the house.

"Are you surprised?" Lamb says. "These guys aren't exactly geniuses but they're not stupid enough to keep a kidnapped MI:5 agent in their hall closet! Come on, we've still got loads of places to look, and not a lot of time to do it before those idiots come back. Stables next."

Guy sighs and nods. "Right."

Her expression is one of deliberate focus as she exits the house and heads toward the stables, gun in hand. She's so focused on the stables, in fact, that she doesn't bothering observing the rest of her surroundings, which is probably why she doesn't notice the many pairs of boot-prints in the mud. And why she doesn't notice Lamb stopping to look at them. He doesn't call after her, partially because he's confident there's no one waiting in the stables to ambush her, precluding the need for backup, but mostly because he can't be arsed.

He follows the prints to a pair of basement bulkhead doors round the east side of the house. There's a heavy chain and padlock keeping them shut, but the lock obviously cheap. All it takes to get it open is a large stone Lamb finds on the ground and a few heavy blows. He highly doubts there's anything in the darkened basement that he'll need to shoot, but he draws his gun anyway before pulling the doors open and making his way down the steps. It's dark at the bottom, and it takes a moment for his eyes to adjust.

When they do, he can see that he's in the right spot.

“Fuuucking hell,” he murmurs, holstering his weapon before stepping further into the basement. “Christ, Cartwright, you alive?”

The figure huddled against the far wall stirs slightly, but offers no other response. Lamb makes an annoyed sound in the back of his throat (or worried, more like – not that River will be able to tell, the state he's in) and crouches next to the younger agent. There's old blood in his hair, dark red matting the blonde over his left ear and dried onto his neck. An ugly purple-yellow bruise stretches over his jaw on the same side, a few days old. A gash on his right cheekbone looks newer. Lamb doesn't need to see to know that his torso likely took the worst of it; ribs and kidneys tend to be favored targets of this sort of brainless thug. River’ll probably be pissing blood for a day or two, and he'll be hurting for a bit, but he seems surprisingly okay given the circumstance.

“Oi," Lamb says loudly, giving Cartwright's shoulder a firm shove. River's brow crinkles into a frown and he grimaces, blue eyes fluttering open. His gaze lands on Lamb and he groans, letting his eyes fall back shut. Lamb prods at him. “If you think I'm gonna carry you out of here, think again."

Cartwright opens his eyes again, staring up at the low ceiling. He takes two deep breaths (But not that deep, Lamb notes) and then slowly starts to push himself up on his elbows. He doesn't say anything, hardly even seems to notice, when Lamb reflexively puts a hand on his back to help him get upright.

Lamb doesn't like it.

“What," he says, putting a sneer into his words in the hopes of drawing some sort of reaction. “Don't tell me you don't have something smart to say. No, ‘I’d’ve had it’? No, ‘Where the hell have you been’?"

Cartwright sighs, but the corner of his mouth twitches. “I’d’ve had it," he says, and looks up at Lamb. “And where the hell have you been?"

Lamb bites back a smirk, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, you'll be fine. Come on!"

He turns, pulling his mobile out as behind him Cartwright makes his way, groaning, to his feet. Shirley answers after the first ring.

"Yeah?"

"I found Cartwright," Lamb says. "Hurry up and finish what you're doing and meet us out by the cars." He glances over his shoulder as he returns his mobile to his coat pocket. Cartwright is swaying slightly, but there's a determined set to his expression. Lamb raises an eyebrow at him. "You coming?"

Cartwright gives him a shaky thumbs-up. "Yep."

xxx

It's not a sunny day—far from it, seeing as they're in the English countryside in October—but the daylight is still far brighter than the hole in the ground where River's been held the last three days. Or maybe it's four? He's lost track. Regardless, he finds himself wincing as he emerges from the basement as the relative brightness sends bursts of pain through his skull.

"Lamb!" Louisa's voice. "He's not in the stables. Where did you go?" She looks over Lamb's shoulder and her eyes widen. "River!"

"Hey, Louisa," River says, raising his hand in a sheepish wave.

Louisa steps around Lamb and grabs River's arms, looking him over, brow furrowed. "You alright?"

River shrugs. "Oh, you know..." He looks up at the back of Lamb who, unsurprisingly, didn't stop to watch Louisa and River's reunion. "I'm surprised Lamb came himself."

"Yeah. Marcus and Shirley are here, too."

"Really?" River frowns. "All of you are here?"

"Well, not all of us. Roddy's still at Slough."

River snorts. "He doesn't count."

Marcus and Shirley are already at the cars when they get there, and Shirley grins as soon as she sees River, straightening up from where she'd been leaning against Marcus's car.

"Were they keeping you in the stable?" she says. "'Cus that would be really fucking embarrassing."

"It was the basement, actually," River says dryly. He's not sure why he expected anything else from her.

"Because we're Slow Horses," Shirley continues as if River hadn't spoken. "Horse. Stable. It's funny."

River shoots her a sarcastic smile and holds up his middle finger. Shirley scowls.

"Rude."

He opens his mouth to answer, and is interrupted by the loud crack of gunfire.

"Get down!" Lamb shouts, and River thinks it's a little funny that he bothers saying it; they're all already moving, diving for cover behind the parked cars. They may be Slow Horses, but they're still Service. They aren't just going to stand around while a sniper opens fire on them.

“Shit!" Shirley cries as a round strikes the dirt near her. "Where is that coming from?”

“Uh – barn.” Marcus is the one who answers. “Hayloft, I think.”

Lamb growls. “You didn’t clear the fucking barn?”

“You called and told us you had River! You didn’t say anything about clearing the barn!”

“I said to finish what you were doing, I didn’t think I had to fucking spell it out! Bloody well should have known, though, you’ve all the sense of a toad. Didn't clear the fucking barn..."

"We can return fire, but I don't know what good it'll do us," Marcus says. "He's got better cover, better range, a better vantage point..."

“He’ll run out of ammunition eventually,” Shirley says, and Lamb lets out a bark of laughter.

“Yeah, I suppose we could just roll around in the dirt here and hope the bastard is stupid enough to waste all of his bullets. Anyone else have any bright ideas they'd like to share? Cartwright?”

River, who's only been half-listening to most of the conversation, looks up at the sound of his name. “Erm – what? Sorry?”

Lamb’s irritated expression shifts slightly, his forehead creasing in the middle. Then his eyes flick downward, then back up again, eyes slightly narrowed in suspicion. “Are you hit?”

"What?" Louisa says sharply.

River looks down to where his hand is clasping his hip. He hadn't even noticed he was doing that...He lifts his hand away from his side enough to catch a glimpse of bright red before quickly replacing it, swallowing hard to quell the nausea that tries to rise up.

“Yup. Yeah, I--I think so. Yeah."

He's not sure he would've realized if not for the sight of blood. Adrenaline is a hell of a thing.

"Jesus," Marcus says.

Louisa's voice is tight with near-panic. "We have to get him out of here!"

"It's fine!" River's voice is loud, almost shrill. It comes out too insistent. He swears internally, then takes a breath and forces a smile that he hopes looks less manic than it feels. "I'm alright, it's a good guy wound."

Shirley makes a face. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"The good guys in action movies, they always – you know what, never mind!" His mind is racing. He's pretty sure adrenaline is supposed to bring clarity, but his thoughts are all noisy and competing for attention. The one that makes it out of his mouth, before he has time to really process it, is, "This is a good thing."

"How?!" Louisa and Shirley cry in baffled unison.

There's an opportunity here for River to turn something humiliating—having to be rescued from the ex-military meatheads that had managed to kidnap him—into a win. He just has to make them see it.

"Look, now that their secret hideout isn't a secret anymore, they're just going to go deeper underground. Whoever's shooting at us is alone right now. We can press him for information, I--" He falters momentarily as he sees the doubt plainly written on his co-workers' faces. "I can distract him, and you can sneak around the back of the barn and get the jump on him. We might not get another chance."

"You'll distract him?" Lamb chuckles. "What, for the two seconds it takes to blow your head off? All that'll do is give me an extra pile of paperwork to fill out."

"But--" River begins.

"We're not here for him, Cartwright, we're here for you. And we have you, so we're gonna fuck off back to London. Let the Dogs deal with these pricks."

River blinks in surprise. Of all of them, he'd thought Lamb was the most likely to agree that they should try and get something out of this shitshow. If Lamb notices his shock, he doesn't mention it.

"Guy, Cartwright and I'll go in your car. Dander, you're with Longridge – Christ, I feel like I'm arranging a carpool. Anyway, whoever is up there isn't a very impressive shot, or Cartwright wouldn't be alive right now, but still: move fast."

There's an exchange of glances, some nods. No one counts down, but somehow everyone starts moving at once – Marcus and Louisa yanking open driver's side doors and clambering in, keeping their heads down and trying to make themselves as small as possible (an easier task for Louisa than Marcus) as Lamb and Shirley get into back seats. River is waiting for it, for the sound of gunfire to pick up again, but it doesn't come. He should feel relieved that they aren't being shot at, but all he feels is dread.

"Cartwright!" Lamb barks.

River is still sat in the gravel beside Louisa's car. He's sitting there when a man in a balaclava comes out from behind the small garden shed the cars are parked next to.

Oh, that's not good.

The man's got a gun raised, and it's aimed right at Louisa's head and fuck if River is going to let her get killed. His body doesn't feel like his own as he launches to his feet and places it between the gun and Louisa. There are two loud pops, and then he's falling and the man in the balaclava is falling, too and Louisa is screaming his name but he can't gather the breath he needs to answer because it feels like he's just been kicked in the chest by the world's angriest horse and he can't breathe--

Someone grabs him under the armpits from behind and pulls, and that's enough to shock his lungs back into working.

He screams.

When his vision returns, he realizes he's in the backseat of Louisa's car. He's more than slightly mortified to find that he's laying partially in Jackson Lamb's lap, one of Lamb's hands held tightly against the bullet hole in River's chest.

"Drive!" Lamb yells, and the car lurches into motion and the only sound River makes this time is a low, strangled groan.

River isn't particularly religious, never has been, but as he bleeds and bleeds and tries to breathe in the backseat of Louisa's car, he finds himself pleading with whatever higher power is out there to please, please not let him die in Jackson Lamb's arms.

xxx

[vellichorsdesire]

day 48367 of blue hydrangeas domestic life au being my most favorite au everrr… we’re going shopping!!! ^_^

==

taglist: (interact with this post/let me know wherever if you’d like to be added or removed!! first time doing this thank you guys eeee 💗💗💗)

@hauntedhallwayzzz @artistlara @melomacaron @milkmallow28 @champmorado @heartofbalemoon @astral-express-family @sunflawyer

[kawareo]

This is the anon who said that reading your work has gotten me writing again. I just wanted to update on that - I've written about half of a novel at this point. Thank you SO much for helping me get that spark back.

Slightly late to replying but IM SO HAPPY FOR YOU ANON

[fogwitchoftheevermore]

Yes! The ways the mechs and mcyt handle narrative have always been so similar to me but I've never been able to put it onto words. Would Love to hear what you have to say on the topic (after you have had a good sleep)

HI, it's time for me to get insane. Thank you for sending this ask cause now I have an excuse to maintag the post, lol. Also, I'm going to be using the term MCYT interchangeably with MCRP (Minecraft roleplay) for my own sanity. You'll know what I mean from context clues, I think.

So, hi, anyone who doesn't know about The Mechanisms. This post is going to be about some meta analysis tools that popped up in the Mechs fandom when it exploded in popularity back in 2020-2021. Due to the nature of both the Mechs and MCYT (which I'll get into in a moment), these concepts are generally very helpful for meta analysis of MCYT as well, and I think you guys would love them.

First of all, what was The Mechanisms?

The Mechanisms, originally known as Dr. Carmilla and The Mechanisms, was a band that formed in the late 2000s. It had a rotating cast of members, though most of the stuff you can easily find from them (such as their albums) was made when they had 8-9 consistent members. The Mechanisms officially released seven albums and one single before the band broke up in early 2020. The reason this band is similar at all to MCYT comes from a few things- the characters the band played, the stories the band told, and the archival aspect/age.

Because the Mechs were not a regular band, it was also a storytelling experience. Each Mechs album tells it's own self contained story (except for the Tales to be Told albums, which feature songs with their own stories that don't tie into the album at large). But furthermore, each Mechanism is a character. All the members of the band had characters they played, acting as a band of immortal space pirates moving through the galaxy on their ship, The Aurora.

The similarity to MCYT here is, of course, the characters. It's not always as simple to tell the difference between MCYT characters and actors as it was with The Mechanisms, seeing as (a lot of) MCYT doesn't start with the acting/roleplaying intention that the Mechs started with. But nonetheless, they share the understanding that even though this isn't a play or a TV show or whatever scripted medium, and that even though these characters (sometimes) share similar/the same names as their creators, they are, ultimately, characters the creators are putting on in order to tell a story. Whether that story is something more connected to the base characters (less roleplay heavy servers, Mechs backstory beats) or a story where the characters themselves are filling a role to tell a new story (more roleplay heavy servers, Mechs filling in for characters on the albums to tell their stories), there is always a story to be told.

There is also, as I said, the archival aspect. Archiving is massively important to both The Mechanisms and MCYT. It's definitely a lot harder with the Mechs than with most MCYT stuff, since the Mechs are a whole lot nicher, but that is not to say it's easy for either group. Archiving is vital to keeping both fanbases, and both sets of characters, alive, and there is only so much archiving you can rely on the creators of either to do. Those of you who take this task on are genuinely so awesome and I love you.

Alongside the archiving aspect (and as such, the lost media aspect), there's also the age of the Mechanisms, and (similarly to MCYT), the large number of people involved in the project, which results in lost and oftentimes conflicting canon beats. Mechs lore was not a strict, planned out thing. Large swaths of it were made up on the fly or forgotten down the line and rewritten or just made to work because the story needed it. As such, a lot of Mechanisms meta analysis had to reckon with the fact that the story was often telling you two or three or more things that could not be true at once nonetheless were, or was telling you something with the assumption that you knew something else, but that something else is now impossible to track down. So, sometimes, you just had to pick and choose, or try to reconstruct that lost knowledge. Similarly, varying POVs and gaps in time or gaps in story result in a similar concept for MCYT analysis- sometimes it doesn't really work if you take every piece of lore into account, so you just can't, even though every piece of lore is equally canon; or sometimes, a specific source is lost and you have to trust the memory of people who saw or were involved in the source instead.

Now, what is narratomancy? And how is it relevant to meta analysis of MCYT?

Narratomancy is the name for a few concepts of meta analysis that popped up when the Mechs fandom exploded in 2020-2021. The term was coined by @lucky-sevens (who, unlike anyone else I bring up in this post, I feel comfortable tagging because they're inactive, lol, so this won't clog their notifs), but the credit for various concepts under the umbrella of narratomancy can go to a ton of people. Personally, I'm going to be heavily referencing one post in particular by @/gunpowderedtim when it comes to the four main pillars of narratomancy, and how they are relevant here. (BTW I know OP of that post has shifted at least a bit to the MCYT fandom as well, so if you see this and would like me to tag you properly, please let me know!)

(EDIT: I was informed in the replies that lucky-sevens did not, in fact, coin this phrase, but they can't remember who specifically did. Alas another Mechs thing lost to time.)

Narratomancy refers to the general concept of the narrative as a thing within the Mechs universe. The narrative, a story that wants to be told, is an (at least semi) sentient creature that is bending the universe to its will in order to be told. This living narrative helps to explain and work through some of the problems or plot holes in the narrative, and understanding this helps a lot for meta analysis, or even just understanding the story. As stated above, I'm going to be breaking down four main pillars that the post above identified, and how they may be relevant to MCYT meta analysis. Not all of them are going to work- these were concepts made up for The Mechanisms, after all, and for all their similarities, it's not a perfect 1 to 1. Let's get into it!

Pillar 1: Universal Story

This is a pillar that has one really important and relevant concept, but I do have to bend a bit of it in order to make it work. Namely, what we're calling "the universe" here. But it's still quite important. You'll see.

As mentioned up top, The Mechanisms were originally called Dr. Carmilla and The Mechanisms. Dr. Carmilla (both the character and the creator) eventually left the Mechs to do her own thing, tell her own story, but the story of the universe at large is still hers. She's still got her name in the title, she's still the one who created the original lore, so to the universe, she's still the main character. She might not be the main character of any given story, even any given story she participates in, but it's all her universe in the end. As such, both her stories and the stories of The Mechanisms are canon, but they might not be strictly canon to each other. Because ultimately, The Mechanisms were the universe's vessel for telling stories, and sometimes the stories they told made for a weird concoction of conflicting canon, so you just had to accept that these conflicting canon beats were both canon, but which one was canon depended entirely on which story you were looking at, which one was trying to be told, who that story specifically was about (this is a concept that'll come up again later).

The reason this is a bit less relevant to MCYT in that, if a roleplay server is being well run, you (hopefully) won't have a main character in this way. And even if you do, that main character is not always going to be the creator of the server/universe, ala Carmilla. But again, it's not irrelevant, because I think this can be applied when you're looking at individual POVs of any given event or server.

Every character is the main character of their own POV, even if they might not be the main character of any given story beat or event. They have their own lore and story to tell in that POV, and when you sit down to watch their POV that is the story you'll get. It just so happens that said story might have things that are canon to it that are not canon to other POVs, that cannot be canon to other POVs, and you as the fan have to reckon with that. Sometimes these things might be small or not something that's gonna really throw you, like the conflicting Magic Mountain lore in this season of Hermitcraft. Other times, these might be really big things, like Martyn's Watcher lore in the Life Series.

But either way, while the idea that there is a Universal Story that has a clear main character doesn't really apply to servers, it certainly ties in to the idea of POVs. And furthermore, the "all of these stories are canon, but not strictly canon to each other" idea that comes along with Universal Story is a really vital thing to keep in mind when it comes to MCYT.

Pillar 2: Casting Call (Narrative Role Filling)

There are two main parts to Casting Call. The first is that The Mechanisms have a role in the stories they tell, even the stories that are not their own, like the album ones. These roles are often trope heavy, or based on pre-existing characters that the Mechanisms themselves have similarities too. The second is that the Mechanisms slot into these roles not necessarily because they want to, but because they have to in order to make the story work. Because the narrative wants them to help the story along to the ending.

This is definitely more relevant in roleplay heavy servers, but it still comes up on just about every server out there. While for the Mechanisms, the divide is between "the character I am" vs. "the character I am playing so the story gets told", the divide for MCYT tends to be a bit more "the person I am" vs. "the character I am playing so the story gets told". This divide (and people's inability to understand it) is the reason why MCYTs so often have to give the "Remember, we're all friends in real life and anything that the others weren't comfortable with wouldn't be in the videos" disclaimer. Everyone involved in this story is playing a character to move the story along, and that character may be totally removed from their real life person (such as Scott playing Xornoth in ESMP s1) or pretty similar to their real life person, but dialed up so they can tell a story, get a reaction (I don't know any of these people in real life, so I can't confidently pin someone down for this, but you get what I'm talking about).

Regardless, there is a story to be told, even if that story isn't thought out in advance, and that requires people playing the villain or the damsel in distress or the knight in shining armor sometimes in order to get it done. And, tying back into Universal Story, who is playing which of these roles can change as the canon of each POV changes (such as in Third Life, where who is filling the "villain" role depends entirely on which POV you're watching).

Pillar 3: Story Echoes

Story Echoes are a very Mechanisms based concept, because unlike everything else here, they are explicitly canon. This concept refers to the fact that The Mechanisms' stories "echo" throughout the universe, or repeat over and over again. It's in different places and different times, but these stories are out there, over and over again.

This one can apply to MCYT, but I have to admit, it's a stretch and a half. Ultimately, the way this applies here is in the fact that there's no such thing as an original story. Every story borrows from or is inspired by or is similar to another story out there. It's the nature of story telling. The first example for MCYT that comes to mind is fan Life Series, stories that take the mechanics of the Life Series but put them somewhere else, somewhen else, with someone else. However, Story Echoes are explicitly the same story repeating over and over again, which isn't really the case with this example. As I said, it's a stretch, but I didn't want to skip over this pillar entirely.

Pillar 4: Narrative Imperative

And the final pillar, Narrative Imperative, also referred to as Narrative Flow. Despite this one also being explicitly canon to The Mechanisms, it is also very relevant to MCYT, and in my opinion, the most important concept on this list for MCYT meta.

Narrative Imperative is explicitly canon in the Mechs universe when it comes to how The Mechanisms heal from injuries or death. As discussed in this post from the official Mechanisms tumblr, that healing factor functions at "whatever speed the story wants it to". This concept of "sometimes stuff just happens because it must for the story, even if it doesn't make sense or actively contradicts previously established canon" has been brought up before when we were discussing Universal Story, in respect to lore, to roleplay based story beats, for both groups. Here, it's more discussing a fact of the universe at large, a fact of how the Mechanisms function. And while the general concept of Narrative Imperative can be applied to literally any conflicting lore thing in any MCYT server or story (it's flexible in that way), I think it works best when talking about how game mechanics tie into the story.

What does death mean for this character? What does death mean for this character when on this specific server? What does death mean for this character on this specific server in this specific moment? What does logging off mean for this character, on this server, in this moment? What does voice mod or discord calls or chat mean to this character? What do skin changes mean? What does the Player Heads mod mean? What does sleep mean?

There are a million mechanics you can ask these questions about, and you can get a million different answers to each of them. Death can and does mean wildly different things on different servers (see: a Hardcore series like Naked and Afraid versus Hermitcraft). But it can also mean wildly different things on the same server to the same character at different points in time (see: the concept of "canon lives" on DSMP). Death, and numerous other game mechanics, mean whatever the hell the story (and the universe and creators involved) wants them to mean. You just have to take it in stride, the rules aren't clear because if they were, there wouldn't be enough freedom to tell a story.

Even on servers where it seems like the rules are clear, like the Life Series or other death games, death doesn't always mean what the rules say it does. Take glitch deaths, for example, like Loony's (almost) glitched death in season 1 of Deceit SMP. He glitched into a wall and should have died, but Legundo was allowed to cheat (use creative) to save him, or, had he died, been allowed to use cheats to bring him back, for fairness' sake. But this doesn't only apply to glitches- take one of Scar's off camera deaths in Third Life. I don't have the source for when Martyn talked about this on hand, but Martyn has mentioned that Scar technically died earlier in Third Life, when Martyn just snapped one day when Scar provoked him, killing Scar in a short, boring fight. There was nothing technically illegal or unfair about that kill, like with a glitched death, but when all was said and done, everyone agreed it just sort of... felt bad. That it didn't feel like a good story. So, the death was overturned, and the server went on as usual. The rules may have been clear here, but sometimes rules get in the way of a good story, so they're disregarded, simple as that.

MCYT stories are not being told in spite of their medium but in harmony with them. And as such, that means that sometimes, the narrative rules above all, and narrative imperative says that this mechanic is going to work like this, at least for now, at least for me. It might not ever work like that again, for me or for anyone else on the server, but it works like that in this moment, so you take it as is.

So, yeah, there's my essay! My final thoughts: Go listen to The Mechanisms. Go listen to Maki Yamazaki (Dr. Carmilla). I hope you enjoy these four concepts and keep them in mind when you are analyzing or playing the space of MCRP, because I think they are really helpful things to keep in mind. Have a good one.

[dmitriyuriev]

Beast's Womb

Based off a scene from pixiv user Tono Ratel's fanfic 獣の胎.

[uchiha-gaeshi]

Does anyone else automatically size themselves up with people their age and look for ways that you’re inferior to them? Just me? Ok….

[midmorninggrey]

hello hello! if you're taking prompts, maybe "watching the other sleep" for Arden and Cece, or Arden and Dorian (or a different pair that fits)? c:

Hey hey! Thank you for the prompt <3

I think I put those prompts up as "fluff," but I somehow ended up with some post What Pride Had Wrought angst/comfort for Arden and Dorian.

[Dorian/Inquisitor Trevelyan | 2,005 Words | CW: violence and injury]

Since their calamitous return to Skyhold, Dorian had made a point not to be seen in the halls without a book. Of course, it was beyond anyone’s notice that he paraded around the same two dusty volumes on Elven history that he’d found a week ago. All they saw was a member of the Inquisition's inner circle, looking busy – too busy for any pesky questions about the state of the Inquisitor’s health.

On his long climb to the Inquisitor’s chambers, he met the sole person who wouldn’t ask him any questions. Celeste Trevelyan had long since stopped coming to him for advice, and Dorian certainly couldn’t imagine the girl wanting his opinion on her father’s recovery, seeing as she’d twice tried to have him banished from his bedside already.

In her black shoes, the Herald of Andraste made no noise on the stairs. She stopped at the edge of the landing to peer down at his approach. Under her tall shadow, Dorian fought the familiar sensation that he was about to be pecked by an ornery bird.

“He’s asleep.”

“I’ll be very careful not to wake him then,” Dorian kept his tone pleasant and continued up the stairs.

Celeste did not move from her perch, and as he drew nearer, Dorian felt a fresh pang of guilt. The girl looked exhausted. New shadows had gathered around her eyes, dragging them down, and her braids were pulled so tight across her scalp that they looked painful.

However, before he could chance a question of her well-being, a pale shadow stepped to her side.

“It’s borrowed blood, too much, too much running hot around my fingers. Don’t leave me. A red goodbye. No -” Cole’s head swung to one side, thoughtful. “He’s alive.”

“Thank you, Cole,” Dorian managed tersely, speaking around the taste of the foul memory. “He is alive.”

He echoed those last words to Celeste, hoping they might sound like a comfort or, failing that, an apology. They served as neither. Celeste pulled up the hood of her cloak, her tell-tale signal that their conversation was at an end, and darted past him. Cole followed, slower.

Gripping the books tighter, Dorian continued upwards, the hard heels of his boots echoing against the stone.

Dorian found Arden asleep in a chair on the balcony. The stubborn man had refused to stay in bed; moving the pair of quilted armchairs outside served as a reluctant compromise. The open air soothed his anxious, roaming spirit, and he stayed resting far longer under the clouds than he had behind curtains. He needed all the rest he could tolerate, now. For the first three days, despite Dorian and Vivienne’s combined efforts, Arden’s chest had stayed open. Blood had come boiling through the bandages, steaming.

The frosty weather was turning Dorian’s breath cloudy, and he pulled his sable-lined cloak tighter around his shoulders as he stepped to Arden’s side. There were few clues to all that unpleasantness on the sleeping man now. They’d dressed him in loose linens, and the rumpled garb, along with Arden’s half-upright posture, brought a childlike quality to his sleep, as if he were a boy who had fallen asleep waiting a parent’s late arrival. The untidy state of his hair, a spiky mess of red, didn’t age him either.

Arden did have the boyish habit of trekking around barefoot. Slippers must have done something to offend him, at some point, and he had to be corralled into a pair of socks. Dorian saw that someone had failed to sway him this morning, and on the footrest, Arden’s pale toes were bare to the frigid air. With a sigh, Dorian tugged the wool blanket, bunched over Arden’s knees, down to cover them.

He waited to feel annoyed. Instead, all he felt was an unfamiliar, heavy softness.

Arden was not a man Dorian thought would ever invite such a feeling. Fighting beside the Inquisitor was a grisly business. On the battlefield, he’d watched the Inquisitor put an axe between a venatori’s teeth with his left hand and then gut another of his fine countryman with the sword in his right. Of course, if Dorian hadn’t witnessed Arden’s talent for brutality first-hand, he’d heard plenty of stories of the lyrium trade. The Trevelyan family might claim their empire was bestowed upon them by the will of the Maker, but Dorian knew that, like all old powers, they kept it with blood. The Dragon of Ostwick had spilled plenty.

The Dragon. Dorian’s attentions went to the strange markings that cut across Arden’s body, splicing his long limbs with spiraling half-circles and layered lines. The tattoos were a strange, sunken black against the pallor of Arden's skin. How strange that Dorian had grown accustomed to them; they were crude blood magic, after all. A lunatic zealot had the notion to weave together dragon blood and ink, and in a grim ceremony under the shadow of some Ferelden mountain, she’d stuffed the mixture under Arden’s skin. Although Arden had spoken sparingly of the ritual, Dorian imagined the affair had involved a great deal of chanting, an unpleasant amount of pain, and very little attention to hygiene.

Granted, the tattoos had their perks. First, they raised Arden’s body temperature, making the man impervious to the cold. Their second -and far more crucial advantage - was that they made Arden a very difficult person to kill. He’d survived when the Templar Samson plunged his sword down through his shoulders. Other men would have died quite promptly.

Looking down at Arden’s still face, Dorian swallowed something bitter. He’d seen Arden die before – or, rather, a version of Arden. In the future ruins of Redcliffe castle, Dorian had met a man made terrible by red lyrium and grief for the daughter he’d thought lost. That man had died angry.

Then Arden had made his true arrival at Skyhold, and he had bent the fledgling Inquisition to his will before it could take flight, like a falcon tied to a lord’s gloved fist. If Celeste had not vouched for him, Dorian would have been on a ship back to Tevinter before he’d had even a chance to unpack. He would likely be dead or – worse - trapped in the fruitless bureaucracy of the Imperium. He would, Dorian could say with the utmost certainty, not be in love.

That’s what this was, wasn’t it? This softness. The delight when Arden’s stride, always quick, slowed by his corner of the library; the safety in his arms and in his laughter; and the feeling, late at night, of being held with almost unbearable tenderness.

It was also the horrible fear when Arden had fallen to his knees on the stone floor, bleeding.

Carefully, Dorian shuffled the parchment and quill Celeste had left in her chair and took a seat, crossing his legs against the cold. They’d set a table between the chairs, and it had accumulated a spread of half-finished vials, water glasses, and forgotten books. He slid one of them atop the small stack in his lap and began to turn absentmindedly through the pages. Apparently, the girl was brushing up on her invocations.

Although he was certain he hadn’t made a noise, when Dorian looked up, Arden’s eyes were open. There was a fire in his gaze that made Dorian question how they’d ever been shut.

“Celeste?” he asked. She always was his first question.

“Off to see Solas, I presume.” Dorian flipped the book shut and handed the stack off to the table. “Would you like me to fetch her back?”

“No.” Arden scrubbed a palm across his face, breaking his air of severity. He sighed. “I fell asleep.”

“Seeing that they’ve practically pickled you in elfroot, it’s a feat you’re awake at all.”

“Still that bad?”

Arden gave him a weak smile, hapless affection on his chapped lips. The sight – too much - propelled Dorian to his feet.

“Bad? No, a red lyrium sword through the heart isn’t bad, not for you,” Dorian said as he stalked over to the railing, leaving a trail of small, bitter words behind him. “Surely you’ll be up for teatime - crumpets and crusading! - and maybe you can overthrow a despot or two before dinner.”

His outburst went out into the mountain clouds. Dorian had never been one for reading the weather, but a storm seemed to be gathering past the western ridge.

Arden’s voice was on the edge of patience.

“Talk to me.”

During the disaster at the temple, Dorian was the one who had fallen first. Arden had gone forward to meet Samson, and Solas had fallen back to protect Celeste. In the middle of the fight, Dorian had been left alone against a host of Red Templars, all still dripping gore of butchered Sentinels. He’d made a spectacular show of four of them, and could have handled more, of course, until that ghastly Behemoth had gotten too close. At the memory, Dorian’s hand went instinctively to his neck, as if he still needed to try in vain to pry himself free of the monster’s grip.

He had been about to meet a gruesome fate, dangling there. Then, the Behemoth’s hold had gone slack, and with a dry gurgle, the beast slumped to the ground alongside Dorian. An ax stuck out of its neck, buried deep. Arden hadn’t needed to cross the hall to hit his mark, but he’d looked long enough to aim.

And Samson had taken the opportunity to stab him in the back.

“I haven’t forgiven you, not entirely,” Dorian said quietly.

Arden’s chair creaked as he straightened himself. “Would you like me to grovel again?”

Dorian barked out a laugh. “I would if you weren’t so terrible at it.”

He turned back to Arden, who had leaned forward in his seat, looking surprisingly earnest. His shirt had fallen open, showing the thick spread of bandages around his rib cage and shoulders, holding him together. Dorian had the sensation of something falling through the center of him, where he was soft and unsupported.

“I thought I was going to lose you!”

“I thought I was going to lose you.” Arden echoed his words back to him.

“Yes, of course.” Dorian tried to dismiss them both with a flick of his hand. “I am remarkable, for untold reasons, but it is difficult to weigh the value of a scheming Tevinter against the Regent of the Inquisition, Father to the Herald of Andraste. You are too important, Amatus.”

“It was my choice.”

“Your daughter thinks it was a poor one, evidently. I’m inclined to agree with her.” Dorian said. “Personally, I always try to choose the option that doesn’t get me skewered.”

“Celeste-” Arden’s voice caught, and he raised a hand to a sudden knot between his brows. “Maker, Dorian, did you expect me to let you die?”

The question hung between them, long enough for the first snowflakes to fall. Somehow, faced with Arden’s keen brown eyes, heavy-lidded but still burning, Dorian could not bring himself to tell the truth.

“It will be miracle if any of us make it out this alive, won’t it?” Dorian asked eventually. “I do suppose being crushed by a mountain of Red Lyrium would have made an interesting death.”

“No,” Arden said. He shook his head with a solemn smile. “No, this life is not done with you yet, Dorian Pavus.”

If any other man had made such a declaration, it would have sounded like sanctimonious melodramatics, and Dorian would have laughed. Arden, being the man he was, spoke with a quiet sincerity. He believed what he said, and not because he believed in his own might, as great as it was. No, he believed in Dorian.

The softness that had been heavy in his chest for a week grew lighter, as if ruffling its feathers. Dorian looked to the books on Elvhen history, sitting on Arden’s table.

“I should hope not. I have plans, you see.”

Arden stretched out a hand to him, palm open. Dorian took it, relieved at the warmth of Arden’s fingers as they folded around his grip.

“I know.”

[dawnthefluffyduck]

Dess from the Deltarune comic Looking Glasses by @ferronickel, I loved her design at first sight so here's the promised fanart; check out the original comic! It's very much worth the read :D

[bigirlsdontc5y]

My thoughts on Marie, Jordan, & Halloween

If they don't do a couples costume...

Jordan is definitely the type to pretend they’re chill about Halloween when they’re absolutely not. If someone asks about their costume beforehand, they’re like, “I’m not going.”

Spoiler Alert: They go.

When (not if) they go out, their costume is most likely a character from an iconic video game or action movie. I can see them as Lara Croft, which is a great choice, because the costume is super slutty in both forms. Or they show up in a yellow tracksuit with black stripes on the sides, and when people inevitably say, "Oh, you're the bride?"

They’re like, "No, I'm Bruce Lee in Game of Death 🤨"

They chose their costume, specifically, to throw people off. It's a fun little game they play. But Marie guesses correctly on the first try, and Jordan is a little annoyed for the rest of the night.

Anyway, Jordan wins the costume contest with a costume they started working on at 9 pm the night before.

Marie, on the other hand, is 100% a last minute costume person. The only reason she’s dressed up is because Emma asked her to. And by dressed up, I mean she bought a cat ear headband from Walgreens for 5 dollars on her way to the event. Emma is going as a sexy mouse or Alice (of Alice in Wonderland), so they technically match. Just one person put effort into their costume, and the other person still has the tags on theirs.

If they do a couples costume...

I had a lot of different ideas when I was theorizing this. At first, I wanted Marie as Claudia from IWTV(2022). I feel like Marie would find a lot of comfort in her character. Claudia, like Marie, did not get to experience girlhood in the same way as her peers. Choices they could not make for themselves took it from them. Marie was given compound v as a baby, and they turned Claudia while she was unconcious. Both instances made them into something their family members were disturbed/afraid of. (This is me advocating that someone get to work on a Claudia & Marie edit.) But I eventually decided I wanted to do a couple's costume, and Claudia does not work with that.

Because I was still very attracted to the idea of Marie as a vampire, I stuck with it. I wanted to do something with classical monsters because the tropes they come with have so much fascinating symbolism.

Vampire novels, to me, are about hidden desires. Vampires are creatures that take what they want when they want it. Usually, it's an analogy for general hedonism, queerness, sex, gender ambiguity, etc, etc. The main character of a vampire novel is often disturbed by their desires, needs, and inability to control when they engage with those needs.

Jordan and Marie feel a certain amount of insecurity and discomfort around their powers. There was a time when Jordan didn't shift unless necessary, and Marie believes her powers make her a danger to society. Their discomfort harms them more than helps them because their powers are a part of their identity. Those characteristics make them conceptually aligned with the vampire.

Another choice, in line with the theme of identity and uncontrollable compulsions, was Maren and Lee from Bones and All.  But I felt like Lee wasn’t a character that Jordan would be interested in embodying.

Eventually, I settled on Marie being a vampire and Jordan being a werewolf. Werewolves share a lot of themes with vampires, but there’s one key difference. Werewolves explore ideas around transformation. Sometimes, their transformation is permanent, but usually, the werewolf is in constant movement between being a werewolf and being human.

Werewolves are about a fear of the true self. It’s the idea that being free and exploring things outside the mainstream will hurt other people. Being different from the masses makes you a danger to society. This story is preached to a werewolf so often that they believe it themselves. They take desperate measures not to shift. Even though said measures harm them.  A werewolf is depicted as being in constant emotional turmoil because they’re not “strong enough” to prioritize the needs of their community over themselves.

The werewolf's experience mirrors Jordan's experience. Their parents, ex-partners, and Vought tell them their identity is too confusing. That their identity is hurting their relationships. And that their identity is hurting their career. They tell Jordan that if they just stayed a boy, their life would be better. But Jordan knows staying a boy would be a disservice to themselves and their happiness.

Jordan putting on the costume of a werewolf is their form of reclamation. They take it on as a symbol of what they used to be (afraid of themselves) and contort it to their current feelings of who they are. Jordan’s Werewolf is about being yourself, being free, and making your own decisions.

The couple's costume Is 100% Jordan's brainchild, and Marie just agreed to go along with it. They go as a nerdy vampire and a werewolf jock. Their costumes are a fun twist on 1950s youth culture. While they’re visually mainstream, taking on the role of a monster separates them from it. The 1950s was a time when the policing of gender and sexuality was at an all-time high. Playing these characters for Halloween is a fun, transgressive experiment.

With that, I’ll walk you through each mood board and explain some of my aesthetic choices.

Marie’s preppy vampire has claw-like nails. Her teeth are sharp and uncomfortably white. She wears a neutral-colored button-up with a knit vest pulled over it. On her feet are a pair of unstylish black oxfords and fuzzy red socks. To keep her hair out of her face, she dons a ribbon or headband. A pleated skirt and leather belt tuck in her top. Blood paints her face.

The costume includes a brooch. Which is in reference to the 1950s youth culture practice  of “getting pinned”. It implies that Jordan’s Werewolf and Marie’s Vampire are dating. I chose a pin that incorporated pearl with Jordan’s Frankenstein pearl necklace in mind. So it’s less of a pin and more that she has a piece of Jordan attached to her knit vest.

In her hand, Marie holds her school books, which she ties together with a brown leather strap. The book strap calls back to an era before backpacks were popular. It solidifies the time and place of her costume.

Jordan's werewolf has recently gotten into a fight. The skin around their stark yellow eyes is a dark, discolored purple, and there's a gash across their nose. Blood drenches the front of their crisp white shirt. They styled their hair after jocks of the 50s. By that, I mean (too much) gel helps to form perfectly placed curls .

For their ears, they have prosthetics that make them appear larger than they are. The ears add an extra amount of scruff to the otherwise clean-shaven look.

On their neck, Jordan has two bite marks. The implication is that the marks are from their vampiric girlfriend, Marie. I decided to include this aspect in their costume because I get the vibe that Jordan is the sort of person who engages in PDA. They like people to know Marie is their girlfriend, and the faux bite marks are a new way for them to do it.

I heavily considered having Jordan wear their signature bomber instead of a letterman. But if I went that route, it wouldn't be of a costume. So, Jordan is sporting a blue letterman jacket to solidify their werewolf's role as a jock.

(Bonus - Cate is a siren, Sam is Chucky, and Andre is a loser.)

Happy Halloween,

bigirlsdontg5y

[brisquad-unit-4402]

hiii may I request a Noctyx and what you call them ? just like the one you did with Luxiem, I found it to be very adorable and would love a Noctyx one as well, thank you so much!!

- 🌱

noctyx and what you call them

thank you very much for the compliment. even more importantly thank you very much for the noctyx request! i have a few noctyx x reader ideas bc i am dead set on filling up this noctyx x reader tag when i can but i love seeing others just as interested in them as i am

ah, but it's funny, revisiting my first-ever post on this blog and comparing it to how i format my posts now, i can't believe i typed the actual entries all in lowercase, that's the first time i've done that! how strange

...though i will say it was hard thinking of other words for "partner"

tags: established relationship, fluff, gender neutral reader

luxiem and what you call them ↣

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

🎭 Alban Knox: Darling

The night is tempting and harsh at once, and he plays both sides with fervor, a thief attracted to all that glitters. He takes what he wants, and he's so used to taking what he wants that he doesn't know how to manage how kind you are to your darling. A warm home and hot food, a place to sleep with love, safe. He's never experienced any of this easiness before, and he certainty hasn't been called darling before. He doesn't know how you do it. He wants to get used to it.

🐑 Fulgur Ovid: Other Half

He starts it first. Better half, he introduces you, his Reader, and casts aside his own worth for the sake of uplifting yours. That’s what he does best. You never walk alone because he never lets you go, and you reach the heights you do because he’s your foundation. There is so much care and passion in all he does and it stuns you how easily he ignores it. When will he realize he's equal to you as your other half? You are two puzzle pieces, half of a locket together into a pendant. You complete each other.

🔗 Sonny Brisko: Hero

Like a hero he's always there, and like a hero he deflects. Affection goes unsaid, but simply felt, and very much unlike one he tries to avoid it. He doesn't have the courage to ask. He holds tight around you, nonetheless, and whispers comfort in your ear while you ball your hands around his jacket. Simply felt, as he smooths your hair out of your face and lets you exhale, and when you say his name like that, full of adoration and all he never thought he could be, my hero, he forgets how to breathe himself.

🔮 Uki Violeta: Soulmate

You’ve never known color in feeling until you met him, and now that he's in your life, you see him in the sunlight as naturally as the shadows and shines that come through. He breathes life into art with the quirk of his lips at song and in just a moment you see all there is to say about it. But he speaks anyways, and his voice is silk, and when you respond he curls a hand around you while the other holds his head up, lost in your words, the only one for you, your soulmate.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

✧. ┊ masterpost ✧. ┊ kofi

[deus-ex-mona]

still thinking about how silly gens 2 and 3 are~~

the sanbaka arguing over fast food orders (“cheeseburgers ftw! [ken, probably]” / “<-no way! teriyaki’s better for sure! [kotaro, probably]” / “<-not a chance. nuggets are the best. (with bbq sauce) [kodai, probably]”) {ft. arisa (probably) and her “apple pies are the best!!” up in the corner}

and the 1-4 girlies complaining about their lessons (“classical literature’s wayyy too hard!!” / “and math and history and physics too!” / “[doodle of akechi] (<-looks just like him)” / “what’s with his lab coat?”)

[partystoragechest]

A story of romance, drama, and politics which Cullen has accidentally become invested in.

Supplemental material for Unwanted, from the perspective of Cullen. In this addendum, Cullen is busy sulking :(

(Masterpost. Addendums. Words: 1,220. Rating: all audiences. Warnings: sad. Addendums may contain spoilers for Unwanted and are best read after finishing the story entirely.)

Chapters 30-31, Addendum

Darkness consumed Cullen’s office. The evening had drawn in, giving way to pitch and shadow, yet he had not cared to light a single candle. He slumped in his chair, hands pushing through his hair until it tangled into a mess of curls. Let the darkness have him.

A little knock sounded upon his door. He ignored it, as he had all the others. He didn’t want to see anyone, and he couldn’t fathom how anyone would wish to see him.

“Cullen?” they called. “Please may I come in?”

Josephine had never sounded so unsure. Sighing, Cullen pushed himself out of the chair, and trudged over to the door. He slid the bolt out of the lock, but left her to open it. By the time the sun’s dying rays had managed to slip through, his back was already turned, his palms resting upon his desk.

“Cullen, are you all right?” she asked.

One by one, candles came to life—ignited by her own. Cullen turned his head from their glow.

“I ruined everything,” he muttered.

“No—this is not your fault.”

“It is,” he growled. “She was right. I treated them abominably, without even considering the consequences.” He tensed his fist against the wood. “I needn’t have done this. But I did. Selfishly. This is what I deserve.”

“No, Cullen. You don’t understand.”

“Don’t try to spare me. It was I who—”

“Stop!” she snapped, causing him to at last look round. “Cullen, will you stop admonishing yourself long enough for you to listen to me!?”

He stared at her, confused, but only so much. Self-hatred drowned him sufficiently enough to prevent even a droplet of anything else.

“There is a darker truth to all of this,” Josephine confessed. “I am sorry, believe me, I am—but I lied to you. I told you that the Ladies were invited to be a deterrent to your enquirers, but that is not wholly accurate to my intentions.”

He narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, where to begin? You know, Cullen—you are always working in this office. Or training your soldiers. You never take breaks! We have all talked about it, tried to find ways to stop you.” It all tumbled out of her, like a dam had been broken. “Dorian and Leliana play chess with you, Bull and Cassandra spar, Varric invites you to cards—but you never come.” She sighed. “If you do not stop, you will destroy yourself doing this. And we cannot let you.”

Cullen strayed from the desk, pacing towards the bookshelf—if only to give himself a moment. A moment to digest, a moment to comprehend. Her plan, all along, was not to ward off his suitors… but to find a suitable one? Because he worked too much?

“This was your solution?”

“Not ours—but mine alone,” Josephine clarified. “I admit, it was clumsy. But, I had the faint hope that it might work. Had you not discovered their arrival beforehand, it would have all been quite natural. Accidental meetings, here and there. Nothing so forced. Simply... time to know each other.”

“Without my knowledge?”

“I thought you would object.” She chuckled to herself. “In that, at least, I was correct. But I assure you—it was not done out of a desire to make you… miserable. Indeed, I hoped for the opposite. I had hoped one of the Ladies might... catch your interest.”

Cullen placed a hand upon the shelf, and gazed at the spines of the books stood upon it. One recent addition caught his eye: a basic study of astronomy, borrowed from the library. He'd read it twice.

“Well done,” he muttered.

“Why?”

He retreated from the shelf. “It worked.”

Lady Trevelyan. A name that had rattled around his mind, for one reason or another, since he met her. The reason now was most painful of all.

“I know,” murmured Josephine. “I’m sorry. I only wanted to make you happy.”

Cullen slumped against a wall. “Happiness is wasted upon me.”

“Don’t you dare. I won’t abide by it.”

“No, Josephine. Nothing you have done justifies my actions. I hurt her, and the others. Entirely for my own benefit.” He snorted at himself. “And your greatest crime, in comparison, is believing that I could ever act in pursuit of anything other than self-sabotage.”

Something turned in Josephine. She rounded on him, furious.

“No, Cullen, don’t you dare! I will not allow you to wallow in self-pity—especially not for something I caused. Yes, you did wrong, and I did wrong. But it is not too late to make amends!” She strode closer, quietening as she did, but gesturing just as emphatically. “It will take time, and patience—things I know you struggle with. You must be willing to fail… but you must also be willing to try.”

In that moment, it was as if Cullen saw not Josephine stood before him, but Mia. Her words weakened his defences, pierced his heart, and struck him true. He wanted to try. But he didn’t know how. How did one make amends for… this?

Until he realised that he had already been told how. Lady Trevelyan had practically screamed it in his face.

“Perhaps”—he pushed himself to stand—“perhaps I could see the other Ladies?”

Josephine blinked, and she was right to. He was never this easy to get through to normally. “What?”

“I’d like to apologise to them,” he said. “Myself.”

The problem, at its core, was that Cullen did not desire some fawning noble. He wanted for a woman who would truly know him, all his facets and flaws. Who would judge him, accordingly. Who would challenge him, if necessary. Who would understand him, with complexity.

But for a man who cared so much about being known, he had certainly not extended the same courtesy to the Ladies. What little he knew of them was that the Baroness was the leader of Val Misrenne, Lady Samient was the daughter of some Duke, and Lady Erridge talked more of some other Lady than herself—which was impressive, considering how much she talked.

He saw Lady Trevelyan as different to them. She saw herself as no different at all. To insult them, was to insult her. To remedy that insult against her, he had to remedy the insult against them first.

Josephine grimaced. “That… may be difficult. They are aware of the truth. I cannot imagine they shall wish to see you.”

But that would not deter him now: “Could you at least ask?”

“Of course—I will try.”

Satisfied, he settled at his desk, and began to sort through the clutter. It was covered with documents and reports, incongruous and many. Abandoned, so readily, to see… her. Perhaps Josephine had a point.

“Cullen,” she said, “I am so sorry for putting you in this position.”

He shook his head. “I appreciate your friendship, Josephine.”

She smiled. “And I yours. I will see that you are not bothered, this evening.”

He thanked her, and she bid him farewell. He waited til she was truly gone, and then wandered to his window. The keep lay beyond, its walls concealing a sombre secret. That Lady Trevelyan was somewhere within, hurt and crying—because of him.

He would put it right. But not for himself.

[majimemegoro]