#I have a tendency to severely over prepare so

[eyecide]

TATTOO APPOINTMENT IN 4 DAYS 😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁

[waughymommy]

Diaper Discipline Guide

Emma & Henry

My boyfriend of 4 years has always had regressive and sub tendencies while I’ve wanted to talk more control in our relationship. We tried several bdsm activities including smacking and bondage but the occasional nature wasn’t really doing it for me.

After finding out more online about Female Led Relationships I came across DD, initially dismissing it. But the more I read, the better and better the idea appealed to me. After some planning I decided to confront my partner and say I wanted to add an element of control and domination into our relationship, by saying I hadn’t decided how to do it yet we had a long discussion without diapers being mentioned where he agreed in principle to “lifestyle dominance” as long as it could be kept between them and not impact his job, friends, etc. 

This guide was invaluable to me to plan the rest and it solidified my decision. It took me two weeks to discreetly buy the required supplies, getting them delivered to our apartment on days he was at work. I decided that I wanted a high initial level of DD where he’d be in diapers 24/7 at home.

I decided to start on a Friday night after work. He’d known that I had been preparing for something and I started the conversation by saying my proposal was weird, reassuring him that it wouldn’t be painful/harmful and nobody else would find out but you wanted him to agree to try it for at least 6 weeks.

Although nervous he also seemed excited by the prospect and agreed. We moved to the bedroom where I told him to get undressed before I diapered him for the first time. There was a lot of objections at this stage but I talked him round and the agreement to try it for 6 weeks was helpful.

To make the shock less I started with a medical diaper which wasn’t too thick and let him wear his normal pjs over it. I left him to explore it on his own while going to make dinner. After dinner it was time to tell him all the rules, the main one was that the toilet at home was now banned and he’d be in diapers whenever he’s at home. I kept the baby elements to a minimum and said he’s have to also wear out the house sometimes but I’d make sure nobody could tell and never when he’s at work or with friends/family. I’m not going to lie and say this didn’t involve an argument, especially when he realised that no toilet meant #2 as well but we got through. We ended up watching a movie which was a good way for him to calm down.

He wet his diaper for the first time after the movie which was funny to watch as he was so nervous it was going to leak everywhere. Even though it wasn’t too wet I did change him straight away and made his change extra special too. That night he slept in a diaper for the first time.

Over the first weekend he did get more used to wearing and I allowed him to use the toilet for a bm on Saturday. Sunday however I decided to fully enforce the rules and he messed himself for the first time. I didn’t change him this time and he took a shower. There was a lot of protests again but I said it was none-negotiable. The smell did seem to be the biggest thing that bothered him so I bought some Devrom tablets which had been recommended, it took a few days for them to arrive and a few more of taking them but now his messy diapers hardly smell and the protests have stopped. I’d actually recommend you use these from day 1 to make the transition easier.

The first week was tough but we got through it and I’m happy to say we’re now 7 months in to him being in DD. Over that time I’ve moved to thicker abdl diapers, he wears onesies regularly around the house and the toilet has remained unused by him with only a few exceptions.

We both work mainly from home so I’ve gotten used to checking and changing his diaper but thick diapers + devrom has meant he generally only needs a change after waking up, sometime in the early afternoon and before bed. I’ll also let him change himself if I’m busy or cba. 

The best news is after an initial rocky patch, our relationship feels stronger than ever! He proposed to me 5 months in and I can’t see his DD ending any time soon. I’ve increased elements overtime and now the toilet is banned even when out of the house together. Public wearing did take him a while to get used to but actually it’s easy. 

I’m sure DD is not for everyone and is much more involved and hard work than other lifestyle changes but for creating a caring bond between you and your partner I’ve found it to be great!

[dekariosclan]

Hello my friend!

So we all know how amazing and wonderful Gale is, how kind, good, caring and funny he is. He is, in so many ways, a perfect man.

He is, however, only human. I have the tendency to idealise him, and forget this.

My question to you is - what do you think his flaws are? Both generally and as a husband/life partner.

💜

Ohhh I love this question so much ❤️ I am a hopeless romantic, and I adore Gale’s charming, sweet, loving adorkableness! He is truly amazing—but I can confirm NOBODY (and no relationship) is ever 100% perfect.

The thing about a long-term committed relationship is that, while your partner’s charms make the relationship wonderful, their flaws are what make it REAL. And that’s just as important.

So let’s talk about our charming Gale’s less-than-charming aspects, shall we?

[warning: this went from a short & concise answer to a rambling dissertation, please prepare yourself accordingly! Also I know this ask/answer was supposed to make Gale a little less perfect and help lessen our obsession, but uhhhh, I seem to have veered hard in the opposite direction 😂]

———

First off: The Pomposity™️ (I’m not 100% certain that’s even a real word but you know what I mean right) So we all know that by the end of the game, (human) Gale has come to accept himself as he is, and decided to henceforth be known as ‘Gale Dekarios, a most brilliant wizard of intentionally limited reknown.’ He’s come a lonnng way in cutting down his ego, but let’s be honest: some of it will never truly go away. And that’s fair, because he IS brilliant, and he IS talented, and he IS extremely passionate about magic.

…but it’s tough to remember all that and give him a pass when that usually-oh-so-adorable-finger-in-the-air is now aimed at YOU, as he declares that ‘after all, he IS an expert on [*insert topic here*] because he WAS awarded [*insert scholarly award here*] from the one and only [*insert impressive Blackstaff Academy professor here.*]’

And all you wanted was for your opinion to be taken into consideration regarding the wine selection at dinner.

———

Second: The Disarray / Messiness. Gale has a brilliant mind, one that he applies full throttle to any and all situations: concentration on magic spells, lance board strategy, calculations, poring over ancient tomes, and even figuring out how to cook something edible out of rotting fish heads and some moldy cheese (no veggies, though!)

The problem is, while his mind is brilliant and he will keep it laser-focused on his chosen subject at that current moment, from a day-to-day perspective he is straight-up scatter brained with all the things he has his hands in. We can see this in his vision of his tower: BOOKS. BOOKS EVERYWHERE. Some stacked in piles, some shoved onto shelves, some left open on the page he was reading when he got distracted, etc.

We also get confirmation of this from Tara in the epilogue:

Tara: The way he leaves his potions in absolute disarray—I know for certain he wasn’t raised in a barn, but you’d never know it.

It’s one thing to have books & potions & scrolls scattered throughout his library and sitting room—you have no complaints against that, you HAVE moved in with/married a wizard, after all—but to find them in the kitchen, wine cellar, even occasionally stuffed into your own wardrobe? It’s a bit much.

TLDR: Our rizzard is a hot mess.

———

Which leads us into perhaps his biggest flaw: The Fussiness.

So about all those books everywhere, on everything, all at once? You didn’t try and ARRANGE them or organize them for him, did you?…You did?! Oh, gods! No, no, he had an ORDER to them, you see, and he knew that the exact spell he needed could be found in the third book down in the stack next to the piano, page 453, why did you ever decide to move it?

Well, you explain as patiently as you can, it was in the way, and frankly you could tell from the dust on it that he hadn’t touched it in several yea—

BY ELMINSTER’S ELBOW, did you ALPHABETIZE his illusion scrolls??! Oh, for the love of—!

You get the picture.

There would undoubtedly be moments when you found yourself fully exasperated by this man and his exacting, fussy nature.

———

All that being said: true fights would be rare.

The occasional huffy remark or quickly-forgotten gripe would occur now and then as in any relationship, but a real, anger-filled argument? With heightened emotions and hurt feelings? Rare indeed.

The only thing bigger than Gale’s brain is his heart. And while his mind is dedicated to a great many things as mentioned above (magic studies, lance board, etc) his heart is 100% dedicated TO YOU, and you alone. So on those rare occasions after a fight has occurred, it does not take long for him to come down from the heat of the moment and realize, oh, hells, he’s been an ass, hasn’t he?

He knows you love him. His anxiety about not being enough for you has long since disappeared, and he’s calmed his worries that you would ever leave him, but still…there’s always a lingering concern that maybe you’ll grow distant from him after an argument.

If you are in the wrong and he is certain of it, he will be stiffly polite until you offer an apology, and then he will be taking you in his arms, kissing you passionately and telling you ‘all is forgiven my love, let’s never speak of this again’ (and trying hard to hide his relief that you apologized first, because he was not sure how long he would be able to hold out and stay mad at you.)

If HE is in the wrong, though? And you are truly mad at him? And he knows he really stuck his foot in it? Oh, boy.

You’ll be treated to an apology so eloquent it would make poets weep, and it will come packaged with hand-holding, pouting, pleading, and Gale getting down on his (bad) knees.

And if you’re still mad at him after that?

Well, then you’ll have to complete a gauntlet harder than anything Shar could ever throw at you. You’ll have to try and stay angry, explain your anger, AND explain to Gale why he won’t be easily forgiven, all while looking directly at this:

And this:

AND THIS:

…

…needless to say you will be failing, and hard.

Not that you mind, because the make-up sex will be absolutely phenomenal. Gale doesn’t just want to repair your loving bond after you’ve had an argument, he wants to improve it. Which requires much study and experimentation, of course.

And for awhile afterwards, all will be bliss again.

…until you find a pile of scrolls shoved under your side of the bed, and some open books scattered across your dresser, and you decide it time to do some organizing. ———

So yes, my friend. Gale definitely does have some flaws, and at some point they WOULD drive you crazy in any sort of relationship you have with him. Gale is wonderful, Gale is loving, but Gale isn’t perfect!!

…but when he takes you in his arms after you’ve made up, and his mouth is hungrily devouring yours, and he’s murmuring words of adoration against your skin as he trails his kisses down your neck, chest, hips—

Nevermind! I take it all back. He’s perfect. 😂

[tizeline]

I’ve never seen a separated au with Leo being raised by big mama, what do you think that would be like? (Since he’s kinda rebellious)

For the record, there are AUs where Leo's been raised by Big Mama, the ones I know of are Gemini AU by tangledinink and True Colors AU by v-albion. I'm not super familiar with either of them, but they're there if you wanna check them out.

That being said-

LEO being raised by BIG MAMA omg I have THOUGHTS

Listen, I don't see enough people compare Leo to Big Mama, but he's quite similar to her. Splinter and BM never got a kid together, BUT IF THEY DID that kid would literally be Leo he's basically just a fusion of the two of them!!

As I've mentioned several times before because I love bringing it up, Leo is strategic, quick-witted, observant and good at talking. In the show (as well as in my own AU) Leo's strengths aren't really recognized, let alone aknowledged for a big portion of the story. Because of that, for a long time he doesn't really get the chance to develop these skills, as much potential Leo has to become a master planner his impulsiveness and inexperience has a tendency to get him into trouble.

BUT! All of these skills also happen to be skills that Big Mama has and would value in Leo. So if he were to actually have to opportunity to not only be raised by BM but also trained by her for his entire life. If he got to properly learn strategy, planning, manipulation...?

... Holy shit Leo would be terrifying.

Think about it, canon!Leo managed to out-smart BM in Many Unhappy Returns without any real experience, just imagine what he could do with a whole life-time of training.... yikes!

Not sure what exactly Big Mama and Leo's relationship would look like. In my opinion she would view him as her son and love him dearly, especially if she knew that he's Splinter's biological son.... it's just that BM has interesting ways of showing affection. ("The love of my life just proposed to me?? Great! I'm gonna lock him up in my gladiator fighting ring for the rest of eternity!") She'd at the very least be quite controlling, I imagine.

As you pointed out, Leo can be quite rebellious, so that mixed with Big Mama's obsessive need to be in complete control of everyone around her would certainly cause some tension. Actually... considering how clever Leo would be in this AU... uh oh.

All of these qualities that BM initially appreciated and encouraged in Leo, what if, as Leo became more and more capable, Big Mama started to eventually view them in a more negative light? If she feels like she's loosing control over Leo, if she interprets Leo's rebellion as not just a normal teenage need for independence but rather him malicously working against her. What if she starts viewing him not as an asset or as a tool, but rather a threat?

If BM has reason to believe that Leo might try to overthrow her and take control over her criminal empire, she might take preemptive action and get rid of him before he has the chance to get rid of her.... Not like murder-get-rid-of, I don't think she'd just kill him, lol! But like lock him up, maybe throw him into the Battle Nexus, I dunno. Anything that would allow her to remain in control of both him and her business.

As for Leo, maybe he would actually try to overthrow BM. Considering he was raised by a literal mafia boss, his moral compass is gonna be a bit wack. Maybe Leo's desire for control over himself would cause him to try to seize control over his mother's business. Oooooorrrrr maybe Leo just wants some independance but doesn't actually want to compete with BM, so when she interprets his actions and behavior as malicious he's not prepared for that at all and, as a result, is more than a little hurt that his own mother would take such extreme actions against him. Who knows?

Hhhhhhh there's a lot of fun posibilities here but MAN I'm not really in the mood to work on an entirely new AU. Maybe I'll create some art for it I dunno, this concept is really fun, but I'm not gonna turn this into a proper Thing, so if anyone else wanna steal this concept and explore it for themselves, feel more than free to do that!

[greenwitchfeedee]

Royalty

Cw: weight gain, clothes ripping, soft feedism

*knock knock* “Princess, may I come in? I got what you asked for.” Hellen, my hand servant, said as she stood outside my room. I had an important court meeting in a few hours so I was dressed up in my formal dress, but it meant I had to skip second breakfast so I was starving. After my hangry outburst at the last meeting, I was threatened to be put on a diet. I had put on some weight in the past couple years

“Yes, please come in!” I eagerly replied.

Her slender frame gracefully entered in her maid uniform carrying a tray of food. “It took a little bribery of the cooks and the guard, but I was able to get what you asked for. I hope it is up to the standards you expect.” She explained while I was visibly bouncing in my seat with excitement.

“I’m sure it’s going to be delicious, just give it to me already!” I said teasing. She knows how excited I get about food. She took the cover off the tray to reveal my favorite foods, steak with buttery mashed potatoes and gravy, asparagus, bread rolls with even more butter, and a strawberry shortcake for dessert. I was salivating just looking at all the delicious food. Eagerly, I grabbed the utensils and started cutting my steak.

“Princess, if I may. I am concerned that your usual…eating habits may result in that dress being unacceptable for the court. You have a tendency to drop food when you’re excited. Would you prefer if I fed it to you.”

I got a little embarrassed, and I couldn’t feel my face flush red, but she was right. This dress was already tight and hard to move in, and I had a hard time being tidy in the best of conditions.

“Yes, I believe you’re right. Thank you.”

Hellen picked up the utensils and began preparing my food. As she presented me the first bite, I couldn’t believe how delicious it was. The juicy meat paired perfectly with the gravy and mashed potatoes and felt warm and comforting as it warmed my belly. I closed my eyes and squealed a bit in excitement before opening my mouth for another bite. Every bite was divine, not just because of how the food was prepared, but how she was serving it to me. After a few bites of steak, she would change to the veggies or the rolls so I wasn’t eating the same thing all the time. The contents of each fork full was perfectly balanced, severing containing too much of one thing. Slowly, my belly started feeling full and pressed against the tight fabric of the dress. I probably outgrew this one, I’ll have to ask the seamstress to make me a new one, a bigger one.

“Thank you Hellen, I’m lucky to have a servant as thoughtful as you,” I said, when I finally broke out of my food induced daze.

“Thank you for the praise, my princess. It is an honor to serve your excellency.” A slight blush broke out over her face. She tends to be reserved with me but I know how much she enjoys the praise. “Are you ready for your cake now?”

“Yes, please!” I said enthusiastically. In reality, I was starting to reach my limits, but the cake looked so delectable that I couldn’t help myself but to try it no matter how full I was.

The first bite melted in my mouth with creamy, sweet, tart goodness. I couldn’t help but let out a small moan as the treat passed my lips then open my mouth for another. I mindlessly rubbed my bloated tummy as she kept feeding me bite after incredible bite. There was about a quart of the cake left when I heard a loud *RIIIP* emanate from my side.

The seams of my dress split on the side, revealing my stretch mark lined love handles. “Oh my goodness, my princess, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to…”

“No, don’t stop!” I exclaimed. “Keep going! I want you to feed me the rest! Please don’t stop now!” I could see on her face how shocked and embarrassed she was. She was hesitant at first, but picked the fork back up and got back to work. By this point my stomach hurt from how stuffed it was, causing me to moan a little louder with every bite. Every so often I would hear a little rip as the tear in my side got bigger, letting more of squishy body push out of the side.

I opened my mouth to receive another bite, but was met with a pair of soft lips and a tongue. Gentle hands caressed my sides and bloated tummy and she kissed me deeply and passionately. I opened my eyes and to see my adorable servant lost in her own actions. Without thinking, I reached out and pressed her narrow frame against my soft body and kissed her back. Her hand massaged its way from my jiggly love handles, under the rip in my dress to my back, and gradually lower, grabbing and squeezing my fat ass.

When I finally came to my senses, I was able to mutter under the waves of pleasure, “Thank you Hellen, never stop treating me like this”

[solreino]

Swan Song

Chapter 1: Taking Flight

Summary: In preparation for your debut as Odette in Swan Lake, you encounter a few bumps in the road. Little do you know this is just the start.

Pairings: TF 141 x Reader

Word Count: 5.1K

Warnings: Eating Disorders, Toxic Beauty Standards, Creepy/Unwanted Behaviour, Period-Typical Attitudes (1910's), Innacurate Translations.

A/N: I'm not well informed about ballet, I have never danced it before, so I apologize for any inaccuracy regarding terminology. Also, the story is set mainly in Russia, so the reader is presumed to be of Russian origin.

MASTERLIST Next➔

[November 11th 1911, The Bolshoi Ballet Academy, Russia]

"1 and 2 and 3 and 4!”

Your eyebrows furrow in concentration as Mr. Lenkov begins to play Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake Suite, Op. 20a: I. Scene "Swan Theme" for what feels like the sixth time this hour. His nimble fingers dance across the ivory keys once again as the composition presumes its macabre melody.  

To say the last few weeks have been stressful would be a dire understatement. Since taking up the role of Odette in Autumn, you’ve yet to recall the last time you’d had the pleasure of succumbing to the sanctity of slumber, nor rest altogether for that matter. From dawn to dusk, you’ve found the studio becoming a second home to you; like an ever-so gracious host with a tendency for passive-aggressive hospitality, who coaxes you from the front door in promise of warm tea and a place to rest your head, insisting you stay "just one more hour". You know better, well at least you think you do, because beyond the studio door you know there’ll be no rest awaiting you, only relentless recital. Still, you don’t look back as you accept its welcoming embrace. Because- 

Anything but perfection would not suffice. You see, back-breaking discipline; impeccable precision; artistic competence; meticulous dedication, it’s nothing new to ballet and in turn, it’s nothing new to you, either. To be a ballerina means to surrender yourself to the artistry, and let your body become its mindless muse.

The Ballet industry is an anomaly compared to other artistic sectors. Unlike others, it subverges from the ideals of ‘beauty in the eye of the beholder’. Conformity is key. There are strict standards to be met and an unquestionable quota to be completed. Anything but, will not do. It disregards the need to sugarcoat its shallow requirements; skinnier, sharper, prettier, thinner; if it fulfills the requirements, it will suffice. 

Image is everything. It’s a shallow, superficial sentiment that directors set upon budding ballerinas like hounds to hares. From day one, they plant it into the impressionable minds of aspiring dancers. Uncontrollably, self-doubt sprouts like a stubborn weed. Each off-hand comment or direct dig, whether it be about a girl’s weight of en pointe form, encourages the festering parasite to root itself deeper into her mind. Then she grows older - it’s too late - and the parasitic thought has poisoned her once innocent outlook on life and has rotted it right to its roots. For the rest of her tragic life, the girl will only know the number on the scales, the image in the mirror, and the misery in her mind. 

You’ve seen it happen to others. You’ve seen it happen to you, because-  

Ballet has ensnared you - mind, body, and soul. Over the years, you’ve felt its callous claws dig deeper and deeper into your flesh, leaving scars so severe - both physically and mentally - sometimes the pretty pink ribbons you adorn your feet with prove futile in the bid to cover them. Prodding and poking and probing; fingers jabbing mercilessly into your sides, accompanying a doubly ruthless "you'll need to lose this extra weight if you want a spot on my stage". For a sport so vain, you ought to think it would go easy on its victims. A session of self-reflection proves otherwise.

You learn to bear and grin through it all. You don’t have much of a choice anyways. After all, many before you have suffered the same, and those who come after you will too. Because after many years of being a ballerina-

You learn to see beauty in the pain. 

The blood you bleed makes the red roses you receive at curtain call worthwhile; the sadistically sweat-inducing masterclasses make the shining smiles and standing ovations from awestruck audiences worthwhile; the tears make the champagne chutes you get to drink at the expense of your company worthwhile. You chase these highs like you do with stardom.  

All you've ever dreamed of since a little girl was to be a ballerina. Perhaps, it was the beautiful dresses a child of your class could only dream of back then, or how pretty the woman on the front page of your father’s newspaper looked posing on the tip of her toes. You don’t know for certain what exactly it was that enthralled you with it all. Sometimes, you wish you had never boarded that train to Moscow, never bothered with all that came with being a ballerina. It’s a selfish and self-deprecating thought, for you know if you were to stay on that homestead, there was an imminent chance you would have succumbed to the troubles of poverty you had faced back home. Admittedly, there are times you miss your life before coming to the city. None can be done about that, however.

Now, you have to push your body to its limits and beyond. Daily, you trespass boundaries you had once believed your body did not possess the ability to, reciting the same sequences endlessly, over and over again, until you physically can’t pursue your practice further that day. Even then, you find yourself persevering through the pain and fatigue; limbs heavy like lead; a mind strong like steel. If you knew your efforts were futile in the bid to rid yourself of any flaws in your dance, you would be wrong because-    

Ultimately, you knew no matter how much effort you exerted, the Dance Principal; Ballet Mistress; the reputable Madame Orlova would not miss a single thing.

For decades, word has circled Moscow of the cold-hearted, quick-witted, sharp-tongued old woman who ran the prestigious academy with an iron fist. It was just your luck that she had taken you under her wing as one of her pupils. You dare say she had taken a liking to you, though, she did have a tough way of showing her fondness onto others. 

Never a day was there without some sort of mistake to be mended by her recognition. At times you think God had cursed her to be forever unfulfilled in her outlook of life. The others in the Troupe seem to think so too. 

You dread to think of how much Mr Lenkov’s fingers must be hurting from playing the same melody over and over again for this past hour. It wouldn’t surprise you if the composition begins to haunt your dreams like a creaky, broken music box. You’ve never had the pleasure of owning one, though you had seen one in the window of a repair shop one time and-

And, as the Ballet Mistress shouts at Mr Lenkov to cease his playing, you know she has once more found a flaw in your dancing. 

The symphony stops abruptly with a garble of incoherent notes before it can reach its crescendo. Inwardly, you sigh. 

"No, no, no!" She scolds.

Her boney fingers rub feverishly against her temple in frustration. Rising slowly from her chair before you, her walking cane thumps anticipating against the studio’s oakwood floor as she ambles towards you. Wrinkled eyes bore into you; you struggle to withstand the urge not to writhe under the intensity of her stare.

"Your arms,” She begins slowly, her gaze raking over you in scrutiny, “They are stiff.” 

“From the shoulder to the fingertips,” She gestures with her hand down the length of your arm as she speaks. “It must flow, like the wing of a swan.”

She uses the moment of silence as you take on the command to survey your form, prodding and poking your stance to adjust it to her liking. 

“Do not forget this.” She finishes. 

"Yes, Madame Orlova," You nod in acknowledgment, wincing slightly each time her finger jabs into your shoulder blades and readjust your position to better suit her expectations. 

She huffs a breath in what you can only presume is somewhat satisfaction, signaling for Mr Lenovo to resume playing.

“Again!”

The song resumes its somber sound, and you take heed to the Ballet Mistress’ words. Flowing from your shoulder blades to your fingertips, you encapture the essence of the White Swan; melancholy in her mourning of a lover whose heart he had promised to another. She is vulnerable in her virtue, and she shows that in her final flight. Odette longs for the skies, for an escape from the betrayal of who she had held dear, but her wings fail her. In desperation, she flexes and flaps her wings, but alas, she cannot take flight. And so-

You spiral in a presession of slow spins, arms portraying the anguished attempt the Swan Queen takes to take flight for the final time before decelerating into a despairing descent as Odette. The tune tumbles to its end from beneath Mr. Lenkov’s fingers as you complete your practiced plummet to the studio floor, encasing your body with your arms the wings of the white swan, as the grief-stricken creature takes its final breath. 

You raise your head to look at Madame Orlova.

And, for the first time in your decade-long enrollment at the Bolshoi Ballet School, you think you see the infamously stone-faced stone-hearted ballet mistress smile. 

It's a cold evening in Moscow tonight. The winter winds thrash ferociously at the loose and unraveling threads of your scarf. Whilst it does little to protect you from the frigid frost lingering in the air, you wear it anyways as any warmth you can garner to combat the icy environment is, in your eyes, worthwhile.

Snowflakes dust your hair with specks of glistening white, gathering upon the crown of your head where you have neglected to put on a hat. They tickle your nose and gently brush against your rosy cheeks as you tilt your head back. Your face turned towards the sky; watching as the snow twirls and tumbles from the clouds above, gradually blanketing the ground ahead in a pristine carpet of soft white. It crunches as you walk towards the theatre, leaving footsteps on the once-untouched landscape. You take extra caution not to slip on any hidden ice - an injury is the last thing you needed on a day as imperative as this. 

Somewhere in the far distance, the Kremlin bells ring. 

Thirteen mighty chimes thunder throughout the city. You feel the ground rumble in response beneath your feet - a reminder to hurry.

Rushing up the snowy steps of the Bolshoi Ballet Theatre, you quickly let yourself inside in an attempt to escape the chilling temperatures of the Moscovian evening - and to avoid running behind schedule. 

The warm air inside greets you welcomingly. You eagerly pull off your gloves in its presence to soak up the heat it has to offer. Slowly, you begin to regain feeling into your fingers. Sighing a relieved breath, you make your way backstage as the marble floor of the foyer echoes noisily beneath your shoes.

There, you receive a not-so-calm yet begrudgingly familiar greeting. 

Pre-performance is usually like this; congested backstage corridors; a cacophony of frantic demands and directions; boxes of overflowing props and costumes rushed up and down the hall; the deafening pounding of ballerinas breaking in their pointe shoes;  dim lighting making it near impossible to navigate. However today, with your debut as the company’s newly appointed principal dancer just hours away, it feels even more nerve-wrackingly overwhelming. 

You brace yourself as you get swept away in the havoc of opening night, tangled in the rambunctious crowd as it traverses through the labyrinth of backstage passageways.

Despite the absurd amount of people crammed in corridors unable to withstand even a fraction of their current capacity, you miraculously manage to maneuver your way to the dressing room; elbow-to-rib style, ducking under boxes and weaving past those racing in the opposite direction. 

Relief hits you as you swing open the dressing room door, closing it quickly behind you as your eyes blink rapidly to adjust to the bright lighting inside. The much more quieter, yet seemingly livelier chatter of friendly conversation and girlish giggles encompasses you as you move further into the dressing room. You shrug off your coat, laying it to rest on the coathanger and take your seat in front of your dresser.

Tranquility seeps into your bones as you slouch against the chair’s backrest momentarily, soaking up the opportunity of rest no matter how short-lived the moment may be. Mentally, you take the moment to prepare yourself for the evening, and all the chaos and calamity it is sure to bring. 

Sighing, you straighten yourself up in your seat, glancing at your reflection in the mirror as you do so. 

"I didn't know you had a secret admirer.” 

You don’t turn around as the voice chimes up from behind you. You of all people know better than to entertain her playful antics. 

The voice reveals itself from its lurking in the background, resting her chin just above your collarbone and draping her arms over your shoulder. 

Your eyes meet hers in the reflection. She grins back at you.

“Valeria.” You sigh, patting the hand resting around your shoulder. “It’s good to see you.”

Valeria, crowned tonight’s Black Swan, is one of the company’s longer-serving principal dancers and has self-appointed herself as your tutor and friend as of late. Graciously, she has taken you under her wing these past couple of months as you have gradually adjusted to your newly bestowed title, joining her amongst the Bolshoi’s most prestigious ranks. 

“You too,” She smirks, a little too suspiciously for your liking, pecking your cheek in greeting before returning to her seat at her vanity next to you. “You too.”

You begin to rummage through your stage makeup, tilting the mirror toward you so you can better see, before laying out your needed products on the desk space. You pay no mind to her mischievous staring as you do so. But, as you have learned over your time acquainted with Valeria, nothing can deter her from getting what she wants. And right now, that is to find out who this supposed ‘secret admirer’ is.

"So tell us then," She drawls teasingly, "Who's the lucky boy?"

The edge of your desk presses uncomfortably into your side as you turn to give her your attention. For the time being, anyways. You yourself are somewhat curious as to what she is talking about. But the sooner you can resolve this suppositious accusation, the sooner you can resume to the real issue at hand - getting ready for Swan Lake. 

Confusion stirs at her question, and you tilt your head to the side, urging her to explain further.

A ribbon-wrapped gift box is pushed toward you. You watch on, confused. 

Valeria’s legs swing idly back and fro as she gazes at you expectantly. The corners of her lips tug further into a grin at the silence that ensues and at the completely dumbfounded expression on your face. When you give her no answer, her Cheshire-cat-like grin falters. 

The girls around you giggle, peering over from their makeup stations to indulge in the drama unfolding. Valeria shoots them a look from over your shoulder, one you cannot decipher, but it quietens them down. 

“For me?” you ask doubtfully, slightly stumbling over your words as you take the generous gift into your hands. “Oh Valeria, you shouldn’t have-”

“Not from me.” She huffs.

“I don’t understand,” you mumble, eyes scanning over the gift as you look for a label, a note, a letter, anything that may reveal the gifter’s identity. “Who could this be from?”

She shrugs indifferently, turning to focus on her reflection in the mirror, transfixed on getting the edges of her lipstick just right. 

“The girls who were here before me said it came delivered to the dressing rooms earlier this hour-” She smiles at her appearance, appreciating her flawless makeup in the mirror. Placing the lipstick tube down with a quiet thump, she turns to focus her attention on you once more. 

She pokes a finger at you in playful accusation. “-Asking for you specifically!” 

It’s your turn to shrug your shoulders, unable to give her the answer she craves, for what reason, is beyond you.  

She eyes you incredulously, before returning her attention to her mirror seemingly unable to neglect her reflection for just a moment longer.

“Well,” She gestures toward the ribbon-wrapped gift with her free hand, playing an unbothered facade. You know full well she is practically itching to uncover this mystery. “Are you going to open it?”

Your eyes dart between her and the suspicious box, almost expecting this to be some sort of ruse, perhaps she had given you a jack-in-the-box and was waiting for you to get the fright of your life; her idea of fun.

Hesitantly, you begin the unravel the sheer ribbon keeping the box from opening. The fabric rubs soothingly against your fingertips, a luxury fabric you have not had the experience of touching before. It was clear that whoever had purchased this was of a wealthy background.  Perhaps, you think, you could make this into a bow to wear. 

You don’t know what you were expecting when you lifted its lid, but you definitely were not expecting a pair of .

“Aye chingao!” Valeria startles as she leans over your shoulder to get a better look.

Nestled between a blanket of draped deluxe fabric, a pearlescent pink, almost winter-white, pair of the most exquisitely crafted pointe shoes lie. You fail to restrain the exasperated sigh of awe at the sight, carefully grazing your fingertips over its silky satin finish as if the slightest touch could possibly damage them. You can confidently say, they are the most beautiful gift you have ever had the pleasure of receiving. 

“No secret admirer,” she says.” Valeria quirks an eyebrow up at you.

"Don't be ridiculous, it's probably just costuming.” You dismiss her far-fetched conspiracies, though, you find it hard to draw your eyes away from the pair of shoes, and the fact that this had definitely not come from the costume department. So who had sent you these?

"Ha, as if Mr. Baryshev would ever allow the budget given to costuming to be used for anything but lining his own pockets!” She laughs bitterly. 

“I’ve been-” Valeria exhales out a frustrated breath, “-trabajando como un burro to afford the means to get wear this!” She growls, her hands gesturing to the coal-coloured feathered fabric of her intricate bodice and tutu. 

You open your mouth to give her your consolation before a knock comes to the door. You, Valeria, and the rest of the room quieten into hushed murmuring - just for a moment. Then-

“On in 30, Ladies!” A gruff voice hollers from the other side of the door.

The room erupts into chaos.

A tsunami of frantic ballerinas surge forward towards the row of dressers, crashing against each other like the tides of a raging sea you had heard many-medal adorning men recount about in tales of some distant land. The only redeeming thing about conducting post-performance business is the stories and tales you overhear; the rest, you are not so keen on.

You take the distraction in stride, shoving the pair of shoes more like semi-worn in pointe hand-me-downs from costuming somewhere under your vanity, and replacing them with your newly acquired gift.

“You’re going to wear them?!” Valeria hisses incredulously. 

You glance at her sideways, smirking back at the priceless expression of amused disbelief on her face.

“Well, they’re shoes, aren’t they?” You jest, grinning at her mischievously. “It would be a shame not to.”

She shakes her head in mock-dissappointment, haphazardously stuffing her stage makeup in its designated drawer before firmly slamming it shut. 

“I fear my mischief is rubbing off on you too much.” She mumbles as she looks up at you, feigning a tone of dismay, only to be betrayed by the growing smirk on her face. 

“Well,” She smoothes her hands over her slicked-back bun of cropped raven hair, "I'll see you out there." 

You give her your goodbyes as she pats you on the shoulder, rising from her chair and making her way toward the dressing room’s door. 

“Don’t let the Director find out,” Valeria whisper-shouts from over her shoulder. “You know what he’s like.”

She ushers the remaining lingering corps-de-ballet girls out of the changing rooms, winking at you as she closes the door gently behind her. 

You listen as the chatter slowly retreats from beneath the doorframe, Valeria’s distinct, accented laughter mingled with that of fast-paced Russian retreating down the echoey corridor ‘till you could hear it no more. A serene silence hugs the now-semi abandoned dressing room; those, including you, who aren’t to appear until later acts remain, a more pacific atmosphere stirs, with subdued gossiping, softer laughter, and a more slowing-encroaching sense of time.

You slump in your chair. 

You have a long evening ahead of you.

The rear of house is relatively quieter now.

You can no longer hear the lively chatter associated with the pre-performance buzz, only the occasional hushed conversation resurfacing through the suffocating silence as people pass by. Walking backstage is always an awkward feat, your pointe shoes make an unpleasantly loud noise against the cold concrete floor with each precarious step you take. 

You had felt bad for having to break them in; they were an extraordinaryly well-crafted pair of pointé shoes, they fit perfectly too, and you were certain the price tag was even more extravagant. You still hadn’t resolved the identity of the mystery gifter, but you’d make sure to thank them profusely for their kindness. For now, however, you have a debut to make. 

Your feet thump rapidly as you semi-rush toward the entrance to the left wing. The further you near, the more people it seems are gathered in anticipation for their appearances onstage. The conversation is greater here than that of in the deeper bowels of the theatre where the dressing room had been. Mingling herds of ballerinas and dancers lean idle against the walls, stretching in preparation for their scenes, and chatting amongst themselves, but done so in more gentle, lower tones so as not to alert the audience of their presence a mere wall away. 

They regard you with reassuring smiles and words of good luck as you briskly waddle by; you reciprocate them with a short-but-sweet smile. 

The music grows in amplitude as you enter the left wing officially; the once gentle thrumming is replaced with an all-encompassing eruption of expertly strung-together instruments. The welcoming embrace of the song is quickly diminished though, much to your dismay because-

The rafters here have always given you the creeps. With no help from Valeria either, who  divulges in gossip of the ‘ballerina’ who had been ‘crushed to death’ by a poorly-secured light fixture on the theatre’s proscenium arch each time she catches you gazing nervously upwards at the looming space. You know it’s mainly just the technicians who lurk up in the rafters, commandeering light cues and stage transformation sequences as the ballet progresses. 

‘You have nothing to fear’, you admonish yourself. 

Still, that doesn’t stop the hair on the back of your neck from standing up as you approach the left stage-side.

Your presence goes unnoticed for not even a second. 

Someone speaks your name in a hushed whisper.

You peer over your shoulder at the source of the sound; the silhouette of a stout-statured man emerges from the left-wing doorway. He seizes you suddenly by the shoulders before you even have time to recognise the overly-touchy-friendly Mr. Ustrashkin.

You stagger at the sudden force with which he embraces you, regaining your balance with an awkward squeak. It is only then do you see the disconcerted look that his face has taken on.

“Mr Ustrashkin?” You begin hesitantly. “Is something the matter?”

“Walk with me, dear.” He requests, but he has already pulled you into motion with the firm grip of his hand on your shoulder.

The two of you trail off to the side to make way for the group of pas de corps, and for the privacy of what you can only assume to be bad news. The ballerinas smile respectfully at you, lowering their heads slightly as they account for your company before skittering off, their ghostly white tutus fluttering by behind them like swirling snowflakes. 

When the last of the dancers had passed by, Mr. Ustrashkin speaks again. You take the small queue of silence to compose yourself exteriorly for what is to come. 

“Something..." He stalls, theatrically contemplating the correct word to use before resuming. "...unexpected came up within these previous hours. A true shame it is, but Fyodor, your dance partner, has sustained an ankle injury. As you can understand, he will be out of commission for the foreseeable future, and unfortunately is unable to perform with you tonight." 

Your heart sinks. It collapses from your chest cavity like a marionette doll on snapped strings; as its puppet master surveilled with cruel glee from above. You wonder what you had done to anger God, for him to administer such a thing onto you. On today of all days too. 

“Oh, um, I-” You stumble over your words in a tangled array of shock, panic, disbelief and uncertainty.  

“None of that now, little swan.” Mr. Ustrashkin tuts, almost as one would scold a misbehaving child. 

You recoil at the unwanted nickname, but are too overcome with internal panic at the newly arisen situation to pay it much mind. Saying anything anyways will get you in trouble, and you have climbed too far into the good graces of the executives of the company to fall out of favour for something so insignificant. 

You struggle to maintain your composure, hanging on the thread of internal and external unbridled alarm. You bite the inside of your cheek to withhold any curses from escaping your mouth.

‘On all days this could have possibly happened on.’ You mumble to yourself mentally. 

“So, if Fyodor isn’t dancing tonight..” Your eyebrows scrunch up in confusion, eyes trailing from Mr. Ustrashkin and the conversation at hand to the semi-concealed view of the stage. “Who is dancing Prince Siegfried onstage as we speak?”

Swan Lake has been going for around an hour by now, but with your appearance not until the second act, you needn’t be in as much of a rush as those in the first. You had spent that time responsibly; the majority of which was in the dressing room ensuring the costuming was to standard and ogling over the anonymous gift. Much to your displeasure, that also meant you didn’t have the pleasure of seeing everyone off at curtain opening, and you hadn’t been able to catch a glimpse of this ‘Mactavish’ Mr Ustrashkin had been singing his praises about to you. 

"Do not fret that pretty little head," The plump man quips. Mr. Ustrashkin pats your back, presumably in an act of reassurance, but the force which he uses almost sends you stumbling forward. "His understudy, Mactavish, has taken up his role."

“Mactavish?” Your head tilts to the side as the syllables of the foreign-sounding name roll off your tongue with a questioning implication. 

“Oh yes!” He startles with a cheery smile. “A wonderful dancer through and through. We scouted his talent in London and had him transferred from The Royal Ballet to dance for us instead.” He rambles on in recollection. “Though the two of you aren’t properly acquainted yet, I’m sure he’ll be substantial as a dance partner in Fyodor’s absence.”

All you can do is nod your head absentmindedly, hoping to be relieved of his unwanted presence. And, like all men are, his attention is quickly drawn to another. 

A loud laugh barks out from across in the right wing. 

“Valeria!” The now-agitated man growls lowly, his teeth grinding together as he storms toward her as quickly as his little legs can carry him. 

‘So that’s where she went,’ you think, half-bemused, half-concerned. You also thank her in your head for unknowingly getting you out of a conversation you no longer had any interest in being involved in.

Rolling your shoulders to relieve some tension that had been building up, your eyes search diligently for someplace to stretch before your presence on stage is needed. Finding one, you make sure to apply an ample amount of rosin to the bottom of your shoes before skittering your way over. 

The minutes pass by neither quickly nor slowly, more like a muddled mixture of the two. Your body moves without control, years and years of dedicated practice leading up to this much anticipated moment allowing your body to memorize the moves. Your thoughts, however, are the fore-focus of your attention. They rumble through your mind like a blinding blizzard, burying any logical thought with a suffocating, unmoveable barrier of bleak snow and amounting stage fright. 

The Pit Orchestra unleashes Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake, Op. 20, Act 1: No. 9, Finale Andante’s crescendo upon the awestricken audience as such Zeus would do to the land below Mount. Olympus with his thunderbolts. If you dare a glance, you may manage to see Mr. Lenkov strumming his harp melodically, or his musical protégé he can’t help himself but boast about day in-day out. 

The floor beneath your feet vibrates as the composition reverberates deafeningly throughout the auditorium; you would struggle to believe the crystal chandelier that looms overhead is not swinging violently nor the champagne glasses the aristocrats’ cradle has not shattered at the absurd volume. Though, it could just be the nervous shaking of your legs.

You catch fleeting visions of the dancers on stage; their shadows flickering in and out of view like the dimming flame of candlelight. Your thoughts are once again drawn back to Fyodor’s supposed understudy. Not once had you had a recital with him, and so you could only hope he was adequately practiced for his role. 

The melody of Act 1’s final act concludes with the triumphant trill of the violin ensemble. The audience erupts into an oscillating ovation; cheering, clapping, whistling; at a volume so loud it could rival its predecessor. Your doubts about Mactavish’s adequacy are quickly disproven. 

It only brings a sliver of comfort, however. 

You linger in the shadows for a moment, trembling fingers brushing hesitantly against the fabric before you. Then, cautiously, you peer out from behind the safety of the illustrious velvet curtains. Your jittery hands fiddle with their golden tassels as you gaze at the exceedingly large audience. The auditorium of the theatre had never been so full.

You try not to let the sheer amount of people overwhelm you; a thousand thousand faces staring stagebound.

You fail.

And as the announcer commences the beginning of tonight's performance, you also fail to notice the man watching you from across the other side of the stage.

 “Bolshoi Ballet proudly presents Swan Lake!”

[da-janela-lateral]

very curious as to what you mean by esper survivorship bias! there’s a couple things i’ve noticed that could be related (like how other than the obviously powerful teru, mob, ritsu the only child espers we see are the awakening lab kids whose powers are so limited that if they’re the baseline most espers would probably never find out they have powers at all) (or how other than the main 4 esper teens and the awakening lab kids and sort of takenaka the only psychics we see are adults that are part of claw) (sorry. my adhdemons)

FINALLY MORE EXCUSES TO TALK ABOUT MY HYPHOTESIS.

I first adressed it in this post, little time after I read some fics focusing on Teruki's relationship to Claw and started wondering about some stuff. After reading (part) of the World Domination Arc in the manga, I got more questions, which I'll explain here:

The Esper Survivorship Bias Theory

Contrary to the norm in works focused on the paranormal, in Mob Psycho 100 society overall doesn't care about espers. This is of course related to the main theme of "nobody is special" and the story's tendency for desconstructing shonen tropes, but it also implies that while rare, espers aren't seen as a big thing. This can be seen in the following details:

While describing Mob's powers, Inukawa treats them as only something unusual.

The Kageyama family, their friends and their acquaintances find Mob's powers ordinary.

Espers are a known phenomena (for an example, Mr. Asagiri looks for dozen of psychics on the start of the Mogami Arc).

Even when people don't believe on psychic powers, they don't insist much on this view after tiny proof (that is, powers are somehow beliavable).

Espers existing at all doesn't change how society works.

For that to happen, there must be a condition: the occurrence of psychic powers is common enough so that people acknowledge them AND usually don't mind their existence. They are like a weird, yet mundane fact.

This may contradict the canon's premise that psychic powers are extremely uncommon, but in the Seasoning City region alone we see several characters with them. Toichiro affirmed Claw has about 700 members and that he had hired international mercenaries, which in turn may mean there is a significant esper population out there. So why are there so few espers in-verse, they take years to meet people like them?

Simple. They aren't as extremely rare as people think. This is survivorship bias.

Most espers on canon are adults over 20 years old, and even a great part of these are members of Claw. The only psychic children we see are the main cast, the Awakening Lab kids and Takenaka. What a interesting coincidence that Claw too is 20 years old...

It's not that young espers are ultra uncommon nowadays, it's that as soon as they're obvious, Claw takes them.

This is not limited to powerful people, as the organization went after the Awakening Lab kids even though Claw either knew they had insignificant powers, or had no information on the level of their abilities at all. Any esper youth that enters their radar is a valid target.

Besides that, it's essential to remember Teruki is an exception to the rule. He survived being hunted down by Claw since childhood, but he also lived in dire conditions and was obsessed with being stronger than the criminals who went after him. Despite their powers, most esper children are normal. They wouldn't have an idea Claw existed. They wouldn't be prepared for a kidnapping attempt. And considering espers tend to feel socially alienated, lonely children have bigger chances to trust the Claw officials if they presented themselves as "someone who understood them".

In other words: espers aren't as rare as people believe. It's that as soon as they show their powers, Claw takes action. This is why there are so few characters under 18 who have psychic powers.

Final comments

Of course, many of the arguments I have mentioned could mean other things. MP100 has a pretty soft worldbuilding after all because psychic powers aren't the main focus, but rather a pretext for developing each character's perspective and inner turmoil, as well as the story's themes. Lot's of things are also played for humor and don't have real relevance. Furthermore, one could mention how the audience's view over MP100's world is limited to Mob's very uncommon life, and how some elements we've seen aren't the standard.

I'm just thinking a lot about the Claw targets' families. What did they know about the kidnappings? What did they do about them? How did the authorities investigate these cases? Have they found any closure? Have they connected the dots about the nature of the disappearances?

And what about the targets in question? How did their recruitments work? What they thought about what happened to them? Did they miss their loved ones? How many of them went on and kidnapped more kids? How many of them survived? Did they get to reunite with the people they loved and have a chance on a normal life?

Some food for thought.

[eldritch-spouse]

It's ya boy (slice of life triplets fic), so I've gone down the rabbit home. And currently, it's long, like really long. So I've decided (if it's fine with you) to make a series out of it (also, it will be posted on ao3 once i build up the courage. And severely making sure each one is perfect). I was wondering if I could know a bit about the world itself. Like schools like are they separate from humans or are their schools that allow demons. Is demon and human relationships/friendships common. Also, heats are they like puberty. And maybe a few more you could think of. (Also wrote a scene where mervin and main as children get into a yard fight. Cause children are nasty little fighters. And I think it's funny) thank you so much

Howdy. 👋 Yeah sure, you can post stuff on ao3, there's works with the triplets there already actually. I'll try to answer as best as I can, but know that you can also fill in the holes yourself sometimes, I don't take issue with it.

Schools:

Schools are pretty divided, just as they are in real life. There are schools who accept monster and human pupils, who may or may not have separate specialized subjects. There are schools that only accept humans, and schools that only accept monsters. There are girl-only schools who have monsters and humans, the same thing with boys, then there's even more specialized schools who will have gender and species exclusivity. It kind of depends on the location and society they're in.

In Hell specifically, the demographic of schools is 90% demonoid. There are no "type" exclusive schools, but naturally, most of the pupils in Gluttony will be gluttons, most of the pupils in Envy will be envious, so on and so forth. Lust stands out because it has no schools for minors. You may find a human in a school belonging to Hell, but their experience will be truly hellish if they're not mentally resilient enough to handle it. Even monsters have it kind of hard. The schools of Pride tend to be the most taxing, mentally and physically. The schools of Sloth are not as sloppy as you might think, the title of least effective education goes to Wrath.

I believe I specified that the triplets got most of their education on the surface, in a mixed school, with humans and monsters. But if I haven't, there you go.

Demon/human friendships:

In Hell? All over the place. Older generations of demons may turn their noses up at humans, but the younger ones are more than willing to chat it up and create human acquaintances. This doesn't mean that a lot of these connections aren't somewhat opportunistic, because it's in a demon's nature to kind of seek some kind of reward or future compensation for befriending a human- Like free transport to the surface via summoning, for example.

In the surface, it's only a bit rarer to see humans and demons getting along. There's still a sort of stigma going around -Which isn't totally unfounded- And many humans will group up to expell demons from places. I'm reciting basic social tendencies at this point, but this means that some demons will group up to feel safer on the surface and both humans and demons are careful about how they interact with the other. That being said, lately, there has been a tendency for demons and humans to get along more genuinely.

Relationships suffer from more stigma, especially depending on the type of demon a human may be dating. Because not only is the monsterfucker stigma applied, if your partner happens to be a concubus, a great deal of people will see you as nothing more than a sex pest, or a pet. Again, the intensity of this depends on the location you're in.

Are heats like puberty?

No. I'm not sure what exactly you're asking.

Demons, like many other monsters, will start getting their first heats during puberty, which sort of escalate in intensity as they age. The first heat is usually just an episode of total physical misery and emotional instability, as the body prepares for future ones. During this time, parents are obviously going to make sure their child doesn't neglect hygiene and other basic necessities like eating and drinking, but they will also respect that the teen's room should never be entered unless in a medical emergency. It's assumed they've already taught the monster to clean up after themselves by then.

A standard heat for an adult monster doesn't feel like puberty, because a standard monster's puberty is not the same stress-inducing short burst of hypersexuality and possibly hyperaggression. Sure, there are signs that heat is coming which can be similar to puberty syntoms, like a sudden burst of facial acne, but it's not like reliving puberty.

I don't really have anything else in mind, but I'm curious to see the scene with Mervin and the reader brawling like kids. I'm sure you're keeping in mind that demons are somewhat stronger than humans, even as kids, so a bite or claw-swipe from Mervin would be a bit nasty. The reader can always go for the eyes, as that seems to be triplets' main weakness.

[dippable]

autism and media. spoilers for criminal minds, my hero academia, and dungeon meshi.

okay so, i'm an autistic person, and i've seen portrayals of autism (both implied and explicit) and they've had.. a range of quality overall.

in explicit examples, i've seen only a few. spencer reid comes to mind first- the autistic savant with an eidetic memory and a penchant for seeming robotic. i, personally, was heavily influenced by this guy- i did (and kind of still do) enjoy criminal minds after all. however, spencer's existence as one of the first explicitly autistic characters that was seen by a wider audience. the show was insanely popular, but in the later seasons (mainly after he was sent to prison) many of his autistic traits seem to fade away. of course, he is a traumatized man who was on high alert for a WHILE, but one would expect he wouldn't lose many of his core personality traits. personally, i think these were written out since his traits weren't seen as "popular", since autistic people can offend those they love or say the wrong thing on accident and it seemed too weird.

second, my hero academia. i don't think any of these characters are explicitly autistic, but i haven't watched in a while. mainly, i see deku and tamaki as autistic (although bakugo, aizawa, and shigaraki are.... suspicious) and i believe my views on these two are mainly influenced by the rest of the fandom, so here goes. overall, i think the characterization of these two lends itself directly to their emotional or anxious nature. most media i see with one or both of them severely dumbs them down to these traits, with tamaki getting the brunt of this treatment. most don't seem to remember that both of them are strong for their age, smart, and have faith in their quirks. even if tamaki might seem pessimistic about fights, he's just that- pessimistic. he's much more inclined to believe he'll lose because if he does, he's prepared to do what he can to help whoever comes after. deku is emotional, yes, but who wouldn't be? he's a teenager who's been told over and over again that he's a failure and he'll never achieve his dream, and suddenly, he's being helped by the #1 hero to become the person that he thought was unattainable. i think horikoshi's representation of them is alright, it's just mainly the fandom that compresses them into "uwu anxious cinnamon rolls too sweet for this earth" instead of remembering they're multifaceted characters, and damaging their own interpretations of real people in the process.

in dungeon meshi, i don't know if they're explicitly autistic (however laios and falin are HEAVILY HINTED AT so.) but the representation of autism here is incredible. in the series, we see laios fuck up with shuro (and, notably, we see the fandom sweep it under the rug because laios is white) while he has real, genuinely close relationships with others (marcille is like a sister to him, and chilchuck's his best friend) so we know he is a multifaceted character. he's also tied to the tendency of autistic people to be interested in fringe interests, or alterhuman circles. he thinks (like many others) that he's weird enough to people, so he throws all caution to the wind and goes all-in on being weird. i know that when i realized i was "too weird" for others, i just stopped caring, and that's how i got into many of my favorite things- like OFF, house of leaves, etc etc. if they thought i was weird then, i don't really want to know what they think i am now, especially since i'm out here playing obscure meta rpgs or reading books that require me to flip them around.

overall, i think the representations of autistic people in media have a long way to go. there is still a critical shortage of autistic poc in media, and many representations of autism are still influenced by the savant stereotype we see with spencer reid (see: the good doctor) and there's still a variety of symptoms that haven't been shown accurately yet. i'm very proud of where we've come, though- now, i can see an incredibly accurate portrayal of myself in laios, but there's still many autistic people who haven't seen someone they can relate to on the silver screen.

[carionto]

But it tastes too good

One diplomatic meeting with the Human ambassador coincided with a certain holiday native to her geographical origin back on Earth. A harvest festival to be exact, so she insisted her embassy would provide a feast for all who gathered here, after the meeting.

Several hours later we arrive at a venue in the communal area the Humans had requested for this occasion. The localized atmosphere was set to dusk lighting and light fog, there were numerous tall standings holographic torches providing a surprisingly comfortable and warm ambience, and despite the size of the venue and the near fifty people present, somehow it felt very close-knit.

After a short speech explaining the customs and brief history of the holiday, they brought out the food, and it was surprising how thoroughly they had prepared. Each species was served not only foods they can consume, they were specific delicacies native to each of their homeworld regions, down to the current seasonal produce, if the planet had seasons that is.

However, no table was more diverse than the Human one. It is always staggering to be reminded how many different kinds of items omnivores can eat, but even still, the sheer number of different ingredients in some of these was incredible. Soups and salads were the most complex composition-wise, but even their simplest dishes - five wildly different animal meats - were infused with spices, some had been marinaded beforehand, and one was seared with a coating of honey and berries.

We were all enjoying our meals and conversations, when one Human staffer started coughing violently. He had been the most... ravenous consumer of the meat and accompanying dressings, but before panic set in we were informed that this is merely a reflex Humans sometimes have when overeating.

A short while later he started breathing heavily and was clenching his chest and almost collapsed to the floor. An on-site medic quickly examined and gave him an injection before escorting him back to the Human embassy.

While we were incredibly worried about what had happened and why, the other Humans seemed mostly undisturbed. As they explained, we grew ever more concerned about Humanity as a whole and their tendency to disregard their own safety and well-being:

"Yeah, Hank really can't help himself. His doctor tells him repeatedly to watch his cholesterol levels, but, and I quote him: "I'll die before I give up cheese steaks and ranch!"

So this happens from time to time, he chooses to live with chest pain, breathing problems, palpitations, and the medication to limit those, as opposed to cut just down on all those nasty salts and fatty acids.

Can't say I don't understand him though. I think every person has some food that's probably not good for them that they wouldn't give up unless their life depended on it, or in Hank's case, in spite of the risk. It would be a depressing existence if I couldn't get my daily packet of sour gummy worms anymore, that's for sure."

[lxvvie]

So as I was writing and getting requests done, I had a thought: how about we take that trend I did with Call of Duty and apply it to your favorite primarchs? This begs the question: How would your dearly beloved primarchs react if you called them by their full name... because of reasons?

Horus - Hits you with one of his most dazzling smiles. It's too dazzling, which lets you know that Horus got into some shit. You question him and he gives you a vague answer while still smiling.

Leman Russ - You and he both know he's been up to no good so he'll either proposition you or make sure he's not in the vicinity to hear you call his name lmao.

Ferrus Manus - Instantly stops whatever it is he's doing; contemplates a response and ultimately decides to make himself scarce somewhere else.

Fulgrim - Is affronted that you'd call his name with such... irreverence. Will actually ignore you. Bastard.

Vulkan - Will also stop what he's doing and answer your call just as fervently as you called him. Has a tendency to resort to hugs to placate you. Those hugs are amazing, though... You can never stay mad at him for too long.

Rogal Dorn - Responds by calling you by your full name. With no intonation. Smart ass.

Roboute Guilliman - Will give some bullshit explanation while multi-tasking that would make Horus proud as to why he got into shit and how said shit has been resolved. May or may not work depending.

Magnus - It becomes a staring contest because you want him to give you an answer and he's trying to figure out why you called him.

Sanguinius - His foresight never prepares him for the way you say his name. Would put on his best saccharine smile that Horus would also be proud of but it's ineffective because his wings usually give him away.

Lion El'Jonson - Gives no fucks. Save for a quick glance will refuse to acknowledge your call. Because of reasons that have nothing to do with the fact that he's in deep shit.

Perturabo - Will pretty much stomp his way to you and get eye-level with you with a sneer. "Why do you call me?" A battle of wills and glares ensues.

Mortarion - Will look down on you, literally and figuratively.

Lorgar - Is the one who puts Horus and Sanguinius to shame because he ALWAYS placates you. ALWAYS. It never fails. But this is after he's winced and bowed his head some, even though he towers over you.

Jaghatai Khan - Gotta catch him first to find out lmao.

Konrad Curze - Results may vary. Might even hear some gremlin screeching... er, do you really wanna know?

Angron - Smirks and chuckles because he most certainly did some shit and he's practically begging you to say something about it.

Corvus Corax - May or may not be repentant, depending on the severity. Also may or may not make himself known but an effort was made, I suppose.

Alpharius - You're better off wondering what it is he didn't do. Whenever he comes, you're left wondering if that's the real Alpharius or if he sent a proxy like the last couple of times.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Aita for secretly following my then best friend home?

(tw alcohol abuse, probably suicidal tendencies)

I know this sounds really awful right away but bear with me. Also this is probably going to get long, sorry in advance

tl;dr I followed a guy i was friends with and had a crush on home after an argument, even after he asked me not to come to his house, bc i was worried he might hurt himself.

Last summer I (20f) moved to the US for college. I didn’t know anyone outside of college and overall I was mostly on my own which was getting a bit lonely tbh. So I was very glad when I met this guy (21m) at a party of one of my acquaintances. We got along right away and he ended up giving me his number. After that we continued talking regularly and also meeting up every now and then and overall it was a lot of fun.

At some point I started developing feelings for him but prepared myself to just wait it out and not tell him bc I knew that he liked having a very active sex life and felt like he probably wouldn’t be interested in something serious at that time.

After a few months however, he began to behave in some ways that made me pretty worried honestly. I had known that he liked to go out and party but I hadn’t known to what extent. Apparently he would get totally blackout drunk at least once a week, sometimes more than that and then he would text me or call me in the middle of the night but often I genuinely couldn’t understand what he was saying. Sometimes he would just call me like that at any time of day, crying, saying that I was his only real friend, the only person he felt safe talking to and so on. On the one hand I knew that that wasn’t healthy behaviour at all but on the other hand my crush on him kept getting worse bc who doesn’t like to feel needed.

On other occasions, he would just randomly do reckless and stupid things like one time we went to a museum and he started arguing with the guard over not being able to take any pictures and we almost got kicked out. Afterwards he laughed it off but honestly it made me feel pretty uneasy. (I didn’t tell any of my other friends about that btw, they only knew that I was seeing this guy but wasn’t dating him.)

He has told me some things about his childhood which I don’t want to share here bc he did tell me that confidentially and although this is anonymous I still don’t feel comfortable telling random people on tumblr about it. But it is severe enough for me to believe that his upbringing and the things he lived through definitely contributed to the issues that he has now. I can say that he didn’t have a great time at home bc he is bi and while homosexuality isn’t illegal in his country, it isn’t really accepted either. Also it’s generally expected that children, especially boys, dedicate their entire life to having a successful and lucrative career and then start a family and he wasn’t really in the right place to do either of that (and he didn’t want to).

He also has been facing a lot of problems and racism here bc he is a poc immigrant from a country that isn’t in good standing with the US. So while I don’t pretend I know what he’s feeling, I imagine that all of these things would affect him quite a lot.

Now I actually get to the incident that is the reason for me to send this (it rly did get long TT but I want to make everything as clear as possible).

A few weeks ago we were just hanging out, it was all pretty chill and we just sat down to eat and talk etc. It had been quite a difficult week for me, also college wise, and I felt like I really had to talk to him about him calling me at night and while I’m in class and all that. So I said as nicely as I could smth like “I don’t want to seem overbearing but have you ever thought about maybe seeing a therapist bc I don’t think what you do is healthy in the long run and I’m not a professional who can properly help you.” He immediately got really snappy and defensive, saying that he “couldn’t fucking afford a therapist and even if I could, all they do is squeeze the money out of you and they don’t give a fuck about your feelings.” I was pretty shocked tbh and responded by saying “well if you really think this badly about therapists you should clearly see one” which was probably too harsh of me but I just couldn’t help myself at that moment. He then said “oh yeah?? I’d rather die than tell any of my shit to a total stranger. But you’ve probably already told yours bc you’re all so fucking dependant on them anyway.” and then he stormed off. (Just to be clear, I don’t have a therapist bc I don’t have any issues that require one.)

I was really scared at that point bc I thought that he might do something to himself (he had said stuff like “I wish I just wasn’t here sometimes” before) so I started following him which I now think was extremely weird and creepy of me but I just didn’t think it through in that situation. He walked for about 10 minutes to a house which I assumed was where he lived (I had never been at his place before bc he always said he lived in a bad neighborhood and didn’t want me to come there) and I stood outside for like another 10 minutes thinking abt what to do bc I realized that this had been totally stupid, also it started to get dark and it really was a bad neighborhood. I ended i up calling him and telling him where I was and he let me in. He was pretty angry but mostly at the fact that I had put myself in such a dangerous situation and he let me spend the night at his place.

We actually got together not long after that and as of now, we’re dating. I know it’s not an ideal situation and probably not the most healthy one but I have been able to keep him from drinking himself into oblivion all the time bc we spend most evenings together now so I think that’s a good thing. I don’t know where things will go from here and I don’t have the illusion that i can “fix him” or anything but so far it’s been pretty good and I really do love him a lot so I just hope it will all turn out for the best. I just still feel guilty for lowkey (or actually highkey) stalking him when he explicitly asked me not to come to his house but it was out of genuine worry for him so idk if it makes me an asshole, I guess I’ll let tumblr decide that for me.

🌃🎀🍨 for finding later

[icycoldninja]

Can you perhaps write the DMC boys with a reader who’s quiet, reserved, nice and can be quite extroverted at times but can be incredibly vengeful when time calls

Basically if you have:

+ crackhead energy with a dash of spitefulness from a crashed out honey badger

+ The Punisher’s motivation to get to the end of Earth to enact his punishment

+ Amy Dune’s vengefulness and Homelander’s psychopathic and sadistic tendencies

All combining these elements you shall have the reader herself

———————————————————————————

Now normally she’s pretty chill, can easily converse with and overall a nice person but if you do something that particularly ticks her off or what she deems are ‘morally wrong’ or ‘unfit’, she’ll make sure she’ll get back at you based on the severity of the situation.

For example:

+ If you make fun of her outfit or doing minor troublesome things then she’ll orchestrate a detailed plan on how she’ll insult you next time or have you subconsciously do something embarrassing to put you in line or…very rare, spare you

+ However, if you’re caught doing something severe to her, her friends and family or morally wrong like stabbing her into the stomach and got her sent into the ER, k!lling her friends, etc then pray you’ll evict yourself from life fast enough before she can find you again because the next encounter…won’t be pleasing. If it means fully enacting her vengeance, she’ll even swim from the coast of South East Asia to Antartica just to find you, or maybe even hunting down your entire bloodline just to know your whereabouts…Once she finds you, it’s basically either you gave your life up to her just for her to draw your death in slowest ways possible or do yourself a favor and put yourself to rest in pieces…Like I said, she’s pretty sadistic and vengeful, so once she got you, be prepared to go through multiple torture methods that will put even the medieval torture methods to shame in terms of severity

In conclusion; fuck around with her and you’ll find out in the worst way possible. She may forgive but she’ll never forget

Sparda boys + V x Crazy determined!Reader headcannons

¤ Dante ¤

-Dante thought you were a lot of fun to be around, thinking you'd make for a great partner in crime or something like that.

-Then someone happened to cross you one day and he got to see how terrifying you could actually be.

-You were up all night pacing back and forth in your room, mumbling to yourself, drawing weird charts and graphs, and generally appearing insane. Dante was, for the first time in a long time, quite scared.

-The next day you took off to find that person's house, and did not return for a full two days. Once you arrived home, you proudly declared revenge had been taken, and when Dante watched the news the next day, he found that same person's face flashing about on the screen. He wasn't dead, though, just jailed for improper public behavior.

-This led Dante to realize how determined, vengeful, and absolutely crazy you could be. He loved it.

-Though you guys do need to discuss when such behavior is appropriate and when it isn't, Dante still stands by his first impression of you: you're a lot of fun.

■ Vergil ■

-Vergil noticed your bizarre, wild personality the moment he met you, and decided in that moment that he must watch over you like a hawk.

-Your determination to get revenge on anyone who inconveniences you is both remarkable yet absolutely horrifying. Vergil cannot imagine the sheer amount of chaos you could cause if allowed to roam free, because if he does, he will have a stroke.

-He once got to see your sadistic vengeance for real when someone tried to hurt your family for whatever reason. Needless to say, when he cut open the portal to that person's house for you, he was genuinely concerned. Not for you, for that person.

-When you returned, you returned covered in blood. The next morning, there was news of a person mysteriously disappearing without a trace in the middle of the night. Vergil made the connection.

-He knows you would never hurt him because you're crazy in love with him, but he still makes sure he has an escape route planned before bringing up any issues or faults.

-At least he can rest easily knowing you're able to protect yourself when needed.

□ Nero □

-Nero loves you because you're just like him, but louder, a lot louder, and a lot more free.

-You do have your quiet moments, which is good, because Nero needs to be able to sleep every now and then.

-He didn't think you were all that threatening until he witnessed you go full on psycho in your bedroom after someone insulted you in public one day.

-You were apparently concocted a convoluted plan to get revenge on this person, which involved a lot of humiliation, and depending on your timing, jail time.

-He thought you were nuts but didn't want to stop you, nor did he pay any mind to the news the next day. As far as he's concerned, he was never even home that night.

-He now thinks you're crazy, but you're a cool kind of crazy. He thinks it's so hot.

● V ●

-V found your extroversion to complement his quiet introversion, and rather enjoyed those rare quiet moments when you were feeling like being silent.

-The fact that you have the energy of a chaos gremlin is something truly entertaining in his eyes. He loves watching your shenanigans.

-When someone tried to mess with you, both V and that person learned how psychopathic you really are.

-Though he was rather shocked by how far you were willing to go in order to achieve your goals, V was not frightened.

-He trusted you and understood that you would never do anything to hurt him, especially when he never gave you a reason to, so why should he be afraid?

-He won't assist you in your criminal endeavors, however. Your business is your business alone, he will not meddle.

[opultea]

Nuzzling Headcannons

Genshin men that love nuzzling into you - Gender Neutral Reader (No Pronouns) - SFW - Romantic or Platonic - Fluff but Crack Vibes

ft. Gorou, Razor, Childe, Wanderer, Venti

Note: This came to me in the middle of the night so here we go (If you're reading this in the middle of the night: go to sleep, be better than me)

Gorou

Literally his dog boy tendencies shine through like no other time than when he’s in your arms in a private space

His tail is swinging freely as he’s laying with you, his head in the crook of your neck

He’s already going to be nuzzling his nose onto your skin, his ears tickling your jaw

But if you kiss the top of his head: you have activated full nuzzle mode

He just buried himself into your neck, taking in your sweet scent and loving how you feel

His tail is now moving a mile a minute

Gorou usually hates showing his more canine qualities, since he thinks everyone will see him as a dog first and not as a serious person

But with you, he's comfortable enough to indulge in his dog instincts (call him a good boy he'll melt I swear)

Good job you officially puppyfied the dog boy

Razor

When Razor cuddles up to you, he always starts slow

No matter how many times you’ve done it he’s comes in as if it’s his first hug ever

But it only takes 5 seconds of cuddling to get him to hold your waist as if it’s his lifeline

He LOVES how you smell and will comment on it constantly

*sniff* “You smell… like how I feel, warm and tingly. Is good.”

Brings his face to yours so you can nuzzle your noses together

It’s such an intimate form of affection for him, he’s watched the wolf parents do it since he was a child

And now he has someone of his own to do it with too :)

Doesn’t want to let you go. You will have to warn him several minutes in advance.

Even then you'll end up staying in the same position for another ten minutes

He just wants to stay with you~

Childe

You cannot tell me this man is not an insane cuddle bug

As soon as he gets home from a mission he fully flops on top of you and will not move until you have filled his affection quota (he’s been away a while so prepare to be there for several hours)

Will big spoon, will little spoon (spoon switch)

Likes to nuzzle his face into your hair, he just finds it so calming

Loves when you do it back to him, he’s proud of how fluffy he keeps his hair (just for you to nuzzle into)

Also likes to nuzzle up into your back when you're standing at the bench, cooking or making tea or coffee

No matter your height difference he will bend as far as he needs to get his face between your shoulder blades, hands on your hips, trying to bug you into holding him

Wanderer

Will not admit to wanting to nuzzle and will CERTAINLY never use the word ‘nuzzle’ in any situation ever.

His way of initiating cuddling is by bonking you on the head and leaving the room as if you would know what that meant

But once you are eventually cuddling, he’ll dare to show a little affection

Scarameow is real, he wants so badly to be held but will hiss if you try to touch him randomly

You learn to let him come to you, while being clear about wanting to hug him

When he’s finally in your arms, his heart will expand with so much love for you, he couldn’t ever explain how much he feels for you. He never imagined being able to feel this much for a person

So he tries to show it, by slowly and quietly rubbing his reddening face into your neck to hide

Wants to make sure you know how much you mean to him but is so scared to actually say it aloud

Please tell him you love him :(

Venti

Literally all over you

Nuzzles like he’s a cat and you’re his catnip, your soft skin gets him feeling all the right ways

Does it EVERYWHERE too

Face in your neck at the tavern, nuzzling your cheek by Windrise, holds your arm and nuzzles your shoulder when in line at Good Hunter

No shame, only cuddles

But Venti’s favourite place to nuzzle? Your chest

He adores laying on top of you and pressing his entire face into your chest as if he’s trying to squish his whole being into your heart

Which he is <3

Pet his hair while he does it he’ll swoon

"My my Windblume, you're softer every time you hold me"

"Stop trying to flatter me into doing this more"

"Ehe~"

[lets-try-some-writing]

Getting more information on what the femmes do was very exciting (idk if that's the right word) but if it's not a spoiler I would love to hear more about the process when a femme finishes the preparations

(And it makes sense, find someone insignificant and reuse them to make someone new, someone potentially more useful)

The Grim Dark Archives: Statement #007 Cold Forged

[Statement taken from [Redacted] on [Redacted: Sensitive data] regarding femmes and what they do to their chosen subjects. Concerns have been rising after [Redacted] made it clear that Arcee can latch onto humans just as easily as she can another Cybertronian. Personnel working at the Autobot base have begun attempting to go on strike in an effort to escape.

I can't say I blame them, but [Redacted] was called to explain the process that femmes put their targets through to hopefully give us some answers. I suspect the higher ups just want enough information to weave a half baked like for the staff, but the information is vital nonetheless. The more we know, the better a chance we have of fighting back if need be.

Statement begins.]

══════════════════

Femmes... yeah, I've known a few over the course of my life. Elita was one real piece of work. She wanted Orion when she was still Ariel, and she threw a fit when the Archives got him before she could. She wanted Optimus as well once she found out he had been Orion at some point. She nearly got him too. I think the only reason Optimus managed to get out of her clutches was because of his rather murderous tendencies. I don't know if he meant to or not, but he allowed Elita to try and claim him and then watched on as her abilities backfired.

There is a reason femmes only target the weak. If their will cannot overcome the will of the target, their abilities will kill them instead... and in a rather brutal fashion.

It was a shame. Elita, when she wasn't enthralled with her targets, was a good femme. She treated her cold forged well and was a brilliant tactician. She actually kept Optimus in line for a long time. She ensured he couldn't do anything nearly as extreme as what he does now. That's the good thing about femmes. They are good and kind to their targets. They fill the void in the bot's life that no other could have ever hoped to fill. It is a peaceful end for a mech that would otherwise be cast away by society. Elita was the companion Optimus needed, a level helmed and gentle being who served as his equalizer when his plans demanded more pain than required. I appreciated her for that, especially when I served as as a special agent-

Ignore that remark. No. Ignore it.

Do you understand me Witwicky? You will ignore that remark.

[Note: [Redacted] expressed a severe violent reaction the moment I made it clear that I had no intention of adhering to his wishes. He only calmed when he watched me scratch it from the records. Of course I added back the redacted information following the conversation, but [Redacted] has things he wants to hide it seems.]

Good.

As I was saying, Elita was a fantastic person. Femmes are more than capable of being normal members of society when they are tended to. In fact, they are even worshipped in some circles and given the lowly members of society so that they may be remade. But Elita aimed too high, she went beyond the bounds set by the rules of femmes. She tried to go after a mech who was too strong, and for that reason, she fell.

Femmes are of the line of Solus Prime, the first femme created by Primus. At least that's what the Primacy will tell you. I'm not all that sure on the theological stuff, but there are records pointing to the fact that Solus existed. Because of that, I am willing to pin the femmes existence back to her. I don't know all the details about the first femme. That's the kind of thing you'd need to ask Orion about. He always loved talking about the theological details of history. He always got so passionate about it...

Sometimes... I forget Orion isn't here to answer anymore. I mean, he is, but he also isn't. But that's beside the point. This isn't my forte. Sorry, its just seeing Optimus so often after so many millennia, it can bring back old memories yanno? I will get back on topic.

No one knows what makes a newspark become a femme. In fact, there are no signs at all until the newspark sheds their second armor set. They behave just like every other Cybertronian, and then sometime in their early adolescence, they start following a specific individual around. Usually their first target is someone very old or very young, the weak of society or those without enough knowledge to fight back. Once the femme has picked, that's when the Council steps in and slaps a sticker on them to denote what they are. The poor target is cut off from everyone and left to the femme. Why? Because the first target is always the one who suffers the most.

Femmes are highly territorial. They will never aid one another unless both their targets are in danger and cooperating is in their best interest. So every young femme is on her own, left to figure things out as she ages. For young femmes, they will pick their victims apart. There is no peace to be found as they sink their connectors into their target to try and tear apart their CNA and remake it. The process kills the target without fail. A more experienced femme knows that she must follow a ritual, a process of sorts. She must know her target, she must care for her target, and only once her target is open to her... only then can she dig her claws in and remake them.

Yes, yes I am getting to the actual process now. Calm down. I swear you fleshies are just as impatient as Cyberfelines sometimes.

First she will get to know her target and release a chemical, a pheromone as your kind call it. This chemical causes the target to become calm, more trusting, and it also weakens their immune system. It has some benefits, such as increased processor function and heightened senses, but all this comes at the cost of increasing weakness. Not to mention the increase in processor activity is largely so that the femme may attract her target's attention and push them into seeing her in a light that best fits what role she is aiming to fulfill until the time for harvest arrives.

Around a vorn into her work, the femme will start to introduce her coils, her touches if you will. She will start to touch her target as often as she can, and it is through this that small injectors in her digits will begin to input a specially made protomatter into her target. The target will feel no pain since the injections are so small. But over months, years, vorns... slowly her target will start to think less, feel less, until at last they start to collapse.

Femmes are not needlessly cruel in their efforts. She will be very gentle with her target in their dying cycles. When they begin to forget, she will remind them of the things they lost. She will help them fuel, she will take them places they enjoy, and she will allow them ample time to deal with their lingering affairs. Any living relatives will not be compensated, but that is because she sees her work as the greatest compensation any being could possibly receive. She is remolding the worthless into something greater, and for that reason she is both compelled to her work just as much as she heralds it as something sacred. It is her nature to be gentle in this stage, for by that point, her target will be carrying the beginnings of her cold forged, her perfect creation.

There is no set time for it, but at some point in this final stage, the femme will continue her injections of protomatter and her quiet indoctrination until finally, her target shatters. This can take various forms, usually some type of explosion or contortion of the frame, but the end result is always the same. The target dies, and from their corpse, a new being emerges. Much like a newspark, it emerges without armor, but unlike the newsparks from the Well, it will come forth with memory and a mission.

We call these things the Cold Forged. They are beings that completely lack emotion. Or perhaps the ability to empathize. It is hard to tell with them. They all seem to take sick glee in watching others squirm. But anyway, the Cold Forged have a purpose that their femme gave them, and most often, they do not care to reveal it. Those that have felt like giving up data have often been given a mission that amounts to a concept, a thought or ideal. The most common mission these beings receive is by far the most terrifying.

Perfection.

They are given one concept, and they live out their entire lives embodying and striving to reach it. The Cold Forged are Cybertronian by every single stretch of the word, but they are not... like us. Does that make sense? My kind do not really do the empathy thing. But they have SOMETHING. The Cold Forged don't even have that. They are true machines.

You know what's so funny about this whole thing?

The femmes don't even care about their Cold Forged. They make them, and then they move along to the next target. The Cold Forged are the closest any Cybertronian has to actually having a biological creation, and the femmes don't care!

[Note: [Redacted] laughed for a rather long time following this statement. He seemed to be... unstable while speaking on this matter.]

Sorry about that.

It's just, it feels so clinical to me even millennia after learning about the process. These femmes go through so much effort just to make a creature that they then throw away. Elita was a rare exception in this regard. She liked to keep tabs on her Cold Forged, and I think one of hers even ended up with the Elite Guard. Her missions to her Cold Forged were always super specialized too.

Yeah. Femmes. Cold Forged. It's a hot mess I tell you.

Jack will be fine. Arcee will care for him as best she knows how until his dying day. That much you can be sure of.

══════════════════

[Statement end.

I am unsure how to feel about all this. Every detail I gather about these aliens tells me that there is something deeply wrong with them. I have my theories, but considering [Redacted]'s disposition and what info we have on everyone else, I think I can say that this race has been altered somehow. If [Redacted] is able to comprehend empathy, there must be others.

They are capable of feeling and being reasonable, but there is some factor that changes things for them. I shouldn't get involved...

But I want to know. I want to figure this mess out. I am just one man, but if I can put some pieces together, then perhaps there is something we can do to fix this. If nothing else, I want to understand these aliens. I want to know why.

Why start a war? Why do all this? And why in God's name would they shatter in such a way culturally? There must be an answer, and I have a sinking feeling that the only ones who can give me answers are going to be very dangerous.

Agent Witwicky signing off.

Recording ends.]

[seafoamreadings]

week of january 14th, 2024

these are written predominantly for the *rising* signs but they are also intuitively "channeled" enough that they should work for any dominant energy you have! (try your sun if you don't know rising, or more advanced readers can try moon, anywhere you have a stellium, etc and see what works best for you!)

aries: a boost from ceres and venus conjoining in sagittarius really helps you to cope with any angst during the move of BOTH the sun and pluto into aquarius. a possible catch: you may need to do less friend-time and more study-time or spirit-time. consider the temporary monastic life.

taurus: you may be inadvertently about to become the family genealogist or wise woman/medicine man figure. you're out there breaking ancestral curses without even meaning to. it requires digging things up from long ago, a strange form of metaphorical necromancy, but the fruits and harvest resulting are bountiful and you see the results early, starting this week.

gemini: this is a dazzling week for you if you have, or want to have, a committed relationship. on the other hand, pluto into aquarius for almost the entire year with just a brief retrograde dip back into capricorn in several months can be jarring, or more than jarring. tectonic shifts occur in your academic and spiritual realms.

cancerians: you're no stranger to plutonic antics in your 7th house. they reach a dramatic peak with the sun on pluto at the very end of capricorn. hopefully if you've needed to take out any loans or similar financial moves, you've already done so. it's about to be a really, really bad time to have debt. for a long time. but on the bright side relationships get much easier! it will seem like it's easier than it's ever been. and that's also a long-haul transit.

leo: i always try to find the bright side in everything and i think most leos are like this too. but let's not sugarcoat things. this week sees both your ruler, the sun, and heavyweight underworld lord pluto moving into your opposite sign of aquarius. the sun is considered debilitated there, kind of dimming your shine, and pluto is, you know, the way that it is. so do not expect an easy season going forth, but do expect major changes to occur. and it's good and right to be optimistic about such changes.

virgo: if you don't make changes to your routine, pluto will do it for you. might as well make them as productive and sacred and comfortable!!! as you can. ease gently into a new ritual. fortunately ceres is so well-aspected this week that you'll have a lot of help doing so. try to implement changes that can last and benefit you for many years. if you don't plan to continue to use them forever, at least make them flexible.

libra: aquarius season is GOOD for librans. pluto into aquarius might seem... less good. but many librans have issues with people-pleasing, over-romanticizing, etc, and at least pluto is bound to shake up those tendencies. try to go with, not against it.

scorpio: when your ruling planet pluto changes sign it is always a big deal for everyone but especially for you. as aquarius season gets underway so too does pluto move into aquarius. maybe you are ready, after all this teasing at the end of capricorn, or maybe it's a shove in a direction you still don't feel prepared to go. either way, you have those new aquarius (4th house for most of you) vibes for almost a solid year to come. might as well embrace it, or at least accept it.

sagittarius: many good and wonderful things occur for you this week. try to appreciate them, because you may also feel uncomfortable upheaval in your local community, or drama with siblings or like your texts never go quite right for a while. it's a good time to write, but no one else needs to see it if you don't want them to.

capricorn: you are ALMOST done with pluto in your sign for good so don't despair when your solar season wraps up! there will be one more brief retrograde dip of the king of the underworld into your sign late in 2024. and while many fear pluto's influence, for you? pluto in aquarius is all about BIG wealth and value.

aquarius: the sun moves into your sign and pluto follows hot on its heels. or you know, at the slow and thunderous pace pluto always takes. you did have a taste of this briefly earlier in the year. the real deal begins now, with pluto in your sign well outlasting the sun there, until mid-september. he promptly returns in november, then to stay for decades. so there's no point resisting his company. basically you ARE pluto now, or at least a little more like persephone. welcome to the underworld.

pisces: we enter a week which is not particularly supportive to pisceans and even includes a square to neptune as pluto heads for your 12th house. you will have to do some magic/alchemy to make it work, but that can be very potent. it's just going to take a pile of impure lead before you can get the gold out.