#I think the system stuff will keep this from getting a lot of notes. My secret weapon.

[atomicc]

Another collection 👍👍 ft system stuff because I'm evil that way

[clockwayswrites]

The Birdritch's Nest part 25

masterpost

“That is a lot of plants,” Jason said. He swept his eyes over the space as he slipped his lock picks back into their little pouch.

“He has a botanist friend, apparently, and she keeps giving him plants,” Dick explained as he squeezed past Jason and into the apartment.

“Why are you here again?”

“Because I have a car which is better to carry all of Danny’s stuff in than your bike,” Dick explained. He went over to the wall of plants in front of the windowed corner and squinted down at something on his phone.

Jason pulled out his own phone to glance at what Tim had sent. “You say ‘all Danny’s stuff’ like the list was long. The guy hasn’t exactly been demanding.”

“The ‘guy’ expects to actually go home in a few days,” Dick pointed out.

“And is an adult and so can, you know, actually go home,” Jason retorted.

“Damian’s attached.”

“…I concede to your point,” Jason said once that thought sunk in. “Double the clothing asked for?”

“Basically. Make sure that he has a weeks worth, Alfred can always do laundry,” Dick said before letting out a little noise of triumph and doing something over by the plants. “There, watering system turned on.”

“Congratulations, you’re a genius,” Jason drawled. “Now go get his medication gathered up and snoop a little while you’re at it.”

“I thought we weren’t supposed to be snooping,” Dick, words a teasing sing-song as he passed by.

Jason flicked him off. “Like you wouldn’t anyways. I just want to know what you find.”

“Only if you tell me what you find in the bedroom.”

“Deal.”

The bedroom was almost startlingly normal after the plant filled living main room. It didn’t look like Danny really spent much time in it beyond sleeping. The bed was absentmindedly fixed, a black down comforter over pale blue sheets. There was a paperback on the nightstand next to a lamp and a pocket sized notebook with a pen clipped onto the bent and battered cover.

It was the first thing that Jason picked up.

The notebook was obviously where Danny made notes when he was already settled in bed. As Jason flipped through the pages there was everything from to-do lists to invention ideas to… a lot of thought about wings. Jason turned the notebook in his hands. That page wasn’t in English. The language felt like it was on the tip of Jason’s tongue but he just couldn’t get it out.

Maybe some sort of dialect?

Jason couldn’t actually read it, but there was enough to piece together from similarities that tugged on his memory. Enough to understand it was about the wings. Something about the process of change? Aging?

“Hey Jay?” Dick interrupted, scattering Jason’s thoughts. “Can you read the label on these bottles? There’s some serious printing issues happening, I can’t even tell what language it’s in.”

The pill bottle felt oddly cold in Jason’s hand when he took it from Dick, but maybe the bathroom just had shit heating in this place. It would be just like Gotham builders to mess that up.

“Oh, that’s the same thing Danny is writing in here,” Jason said passing the notebook to Dick. “It’s something about wings and getting old, I think, but I can’t really read it.”

“Read it? I don’t even know what it is. Gives me a headache just to look at it,” Dick grumbled as he flipped through the notebook. “The whole bird thing has really been on his mind, hasn’t it?”

Jason gave a little huff. “Do you blame him? The guy has wings now. It would be on my mind too.”

“Yeah… guess I really can’t,” Dick said and snapped a picture of the page with the unknown writing to send to the group chat. “Any idea what it is?”

“Nope. It’s like it’s a distant dialect or that it uses some of the same alphabet of something I learned some of once. Like how Chinese and Japanese use some of the same characters, you know?” Jason explained as he opened the side table drawer and then quickly closed it again. That was more than he needed to know about Danny. “Maybe something from when I was catatonic in the league, who knows. There were a lot of languages in that place.”

“Cass or Damian might now it then,” Dick said as he eyed the drawer Jason had now moved away from.

“Don’t, trust me,” Jason said. “Did you get the medications you needed to grab?”

“Yeah, they’re in the bag. Just a standard bathroom, really. Though he keeps his toothbrush in this old mug with a hero I don’t recognize on it, someone called Phantom.”

“Doesn’t ring a bell, but it sure sounds like a hero name. Add it to the list,” Jason said as he started on gathering up the requested clothing and extra enough to last a week. “Check the closet to see if there are any shits in there that work around wings.”

Jason rolled his eyes as Dick threw the closet doors open dramatically and focused on his task. Jeans, sweatpants, underwear, what he guessed was pajamas were all added to the bag.

“So, nothing that looks like it was made for wings,” Dick said and tossed some normal shirts and a few sweaters into the bag. Jason sighed and folded them neatly. “Maybe he hasn’t had time to find any yet? It hasn’t been that long since the bird thing and seems it all started there. Or maybe he’s just always home when he’s had then?”

“Better let Alfred know then. He’ll want to get something as soon as possible.”

“Yeah, good point,” Dick agreed.

While Dick stepped out of the bedroom to call Alfred, Jason took the time to double check the list. It really was pretty basic. Jason didn’t know if Danny was just trying to not be demanding or if the guy didn’t need much, but Jason went ahead and put the bedside paperback and notebook in the bad too. Jason slung the duffel bag Dick had brought over his shoulder (he totally could have ridden his bike like this) and took a little bit of time to snoop through Danny’s bookcase while Dick finished the call. Sci-fi, horror, old text books, and a ton of notebooks filled the shelf with knickknacks and a few figures. Jason at least had to give Danny points for having some of the sci-fi classics, even if the range of works was pretty limited.

“Okay, Alfred is on it,” Dick said. “Anything else we need to do?”

“Nah, I think we’re good,” Jason said. Something made him not want to look through the notebooks, like they had already done enough snooping. It was an odd feeling. “Let’s get going, I’m hungry for whatever dinner is.”

“You’re always hungry,” Dick said.

Jason shrugged rather than dealing with how true that statement was. “I’m a growing boy.”

“You’re a trash pit.”

“Yeah, you want to go there, cereal boy?”

“Leave my cereal out of it!”

---

AN: I do love writing Dick & Jason so much. Can you tell I have an older brother? Also sorry for the mistakes I'm sure are abounding. Guess who turns out to be anemic? This critter! Maybe getting that fixed will help...

[rathayibacter]

Ok so how does one MAKE a tabletop game because this is something I want to try!! Are there good references out there for non-d20 systems or how to balance mechanics yourself?

oooh, hell yeah! honestly the big thing is to just do it, unlike board and video games the gap between idea and execution in ttrpgs is incredibly narrow, so if youve got an idea just start writing stuff down and see where it starts pulling you, where it feels like something's missing, find what excites you and what you feel isn't working. but that's not very specific, so let's get into it!

first off, read games! read weird games! there's tons of free ttrpgs on itch, lots of people sharing their work here and on other social media, there's 200 word rpgs here and here, and lots of system reference documents written specifically for people looking to hack games. reading other games is a great way to enrich your work whether you're building systems from scratch or working in an existing framework, because every game you read will show you a new way of approaching design problems.

on that note, draw inspiration outside of ttrpgs too! i pull a lot from video, board, and card games in my work, as well as poetry, novels, movies, etc etc etc. im autistic, and ive spent a lot of my life thinking about and dissecting unwritten social rules, so that's another big source of material for me. take your passions, whatever they may be, and put them in your work!

next up, think about the core of your game, sometimes called the minimum viable product. this is whatever the fundamental idea at the heart of your work is, and it's important to keep in mind because it keeps you from spiraling down unnecessary tangents. the core of your game can change, don't get me wrong! in fact, it likely will. what you want to do isn't prevent your work from growing and changing, but have a point of light you can always refer back to and ask "is what im doing important to this game?" you might be surprised by what you find isn't actually as important as you thought at first, and what turns out to be vital to the experience you're going for.

next up, once you start working, don't throw things away. if youre working in a word processor or google docs, it can help to have a section at the bottom of your document that you copy anything youd otherwise delete into. i do the same with my Affinity documents, ill have a few pages i dont export to store all my scraps. i know other folks who keep a dedicated scraps document that they use across projects. whatever works for you! the reason you do this is twofold: it makes it easier to cut things if you know you can always put it back later if you change your mind, and it gives you a lot of raw material that you can pull from in the future. months or years from now, you might find yourself looking to fill a gap in a new design and realize that some cool toy you set aside is exactly what you were looking for.

lastly, i wanna strongly encourage you to practice finishing things. that's often the hardest part for people, cuz we have a lot more experience starting projects than finishing them. here id like to once again direct you to 200 word rpgs, because that strict limit means you wind up with a finished first draft really quickly, and the rest of it is polishing and editing. once you've finished some bite-sized projects, you'll have a better idea of what it entails, what parts you're good at and what parts you struggle with, when to keep working and when to cut yourself off. i find it really helpful to add arbitrary limitations and deadlines on my work because that helps me push myself to finish something when otherwise i'd just keep adding and tweaking, but you'll find what works best for you!

[cardinalcanis]

Compliance

*Comes out of a dark alley* "Hey kid, want some Titus smut to scramble that brain chemistry real good? I got your fix."

This is @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond 's fault.

Summary: Titus was struggling with some unexpected side effects from the Rubicon Surgery, luckily he finds relief in unexpected hands.

Pairing: Demetrian Titus x NB!OC

Tw: smut, Adeptus Mechanicus, prostate massage, edging, genitals are a social construct, technically tentacles, Astartes have more holes than you think (trust me), MATH.

Word count: 7316

Tag squad (let me know if you wish to be tagged on stuff): @druidwolf21 @wolf-feathers12 @artemisareia @adhd-fandom-hyperfocus

@gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @kit-williams @egrets-not-regrets @jaghatai-khock @horuslupercal

@moodymisty @lemon-russ @thisuserislilsilly

@sinistermojo @beckyninja @justallll @ms--lobotomy @pluvio-tea

Mechanicus speech cheat sheet:

When the hyperfocus gets in my mind goes so hard into ideas it gets them pregnant. So as this has a lot of Math Symbols as I went hamm on writing the Tech Priest’s way of speaking. I’m not a mathematician, I played loosely with stuff and their meanings, do not scream at me. Here is a quick list: 

>    -> More than. 

=    -> equals. 

!    -> negation of, no 

+++    -> increase. 

<=    -> less or equal to

&    -> and 

- - -    -> decrease 

T(statement)    -> that statement or thing is always true. 

=>    -> therefore, implies, if… then

!=    -> not equals to

∈    -> belongs to

⇔    -> if and only if, only.  

\/    -> or

P(statement)    -> probability of statement

Statement1 | statement2    -> statement1 happened because statement2 happened. 

E(statement)    -> the statement is an expected result. 

∅    -> null

F(statement)    -> that statement or thing is always false. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lieutenant Demetrian Titus of the Ultramarines, Liberator of Graia, slayer of Grimskull, veteran of the Deathwatch, bane of xenos, executioner of Thousand Sons… reduced to this pathetic drooling mess.

It had started around a month ago, the last bloody bug had been ripped to shreds but still he felt this hunger to keep going. He checked the state of his armor’s system, to his surprise the reserves of adrenaline shots hadn’t been used during the battle. Why did he still feel so restless? When did his bodyglove become so overstimulating? Had the material always been that noticeable on the skin when it was supposed to be seamless? Every single one of his nerve endings was screaming for touch, begging to be rubbed against something, ANYTHING. The worst was his aching groin, he had been close to believing that his codpiece was about to slingshot off him and get someone killed any second now. 

“Testosterone > expected Astartes levels. Positive note. Risk factor = low. !(Possibility) of death.” had stated Magos Biologis Mu-Oragon, brown eyes scanning the dataslate. 

“Low risk factor? I can’t barely focus on anything else Magos. What’s causing this?” 

The mechanicus lifted their gaze from the datapad, pale skin bathed in its faint greenish glow. Titus couldn’t decipher if the person had been male or female before embracing the Omnissiah, but there was a graceful beauty on the mech priest that had been lacking on others of their kind… shit this is bad he’s now sexualizing one of those tin cans.

“This unit understands, patient’s +++frustration = expected. Rubicon <= a year.” 

“Yes.” He had started to rock slightly on his seat, trying to focus on anything else rather than the heat coming from his core. At least his armor helped with masking the worst parts of his current condition, unlike the joke that tried to call itself a robe which he had to wear for examination. 

“[(Rubicon <= a year)&(Testosterone > expected Astartes level)] = normal occurrence.” One of Mu’s mechadendrites reached for the shelf, pulling a heavy binder. They then held it open with the help of their four mechanical arms. “---Symptoms expected. T(Normal progression).” 

“And what do you want me to do in the meantime! I thought the apothecary had referred me here for a solution.” he exclaimed out of frustration standing off the examination table. “Don’t you have any meds you can give me?”

His whole body shivered at the unexpected cold grasp from three mechadendrites pinning him back into a seating position. Blood flowed to his cheeks due to the surprising arousal that came from being manhandled by the seemingly meek Mu. 

“Hormonal cycle must !(be) disturbed => not compliance.  Compliance => possible late implant rejection. I !(compromise) unit Titus’ safety.” Mu-Oragon said in what was a wholeheartedly caring tone, even through the respirator’s distortion.

Titus had been told they had been the one in charge of his rubicon surgery, the one who saved his life. An incredibly dangerous procedure in normal conditions, but with the scale of his wounds it almost meant impossible success. Even with all that he didn’t imagine the Magos would feel protective of him, he was just another number in his surgery record anyways.

“Mu I can’t fight like this…” The same shiver again but now caused by the Magos’ grasp leaving him. Only the phantom feeling of the touch floating over his skin, another painful release he couldn’t attain, adding to the breaking down of his sanity. 

“That statement is true. Hopeful contrast. !(medication) != !(relief).” 

It took him a moment to wrap his head around the meaning of Mu’s words. He had become better at understanding the Magos after the repeated checkups on his condition following the rubicon surgery, yet there wasn’t a chance he could call himself fluent in mechanicus speech, less with someone’s accent as strong as the one in front of him. 

“You can help then, is that what you mean?” 

“Titus attempted stimulation for release = True?” they asked, pulling what seemed to be an informative pamphlet from the binder. 

“You mean if I had tried jacking off?” 

“That statement is true.”

A soft flush washed over Titus’ cheeks, glad the Magos’ examination room was empty today, Emperor only knows how hard this conversation would be in front of others. How could a room feel both so hot and cold at the same time? One of Mu’s mechadendrites tilted his head to drive his attention back towards the mechanicus, the touch has such softness uncharacteristic of what a machine would have. Yet the exception existed on Mu-Oragon, every single one of their four arms and many mechadendrites was designed for careful surgery where an eighth of a millimeter could prove life or death. He couldn’t recall all the instances during previous examinations when he had been touched by them and only noticed it once the contact became absent. 

“Yes I have.” He answered, unfamiliar with the open disclosure of his intimate activities. “It hasn’t been working.”

“Elaboration on process required. Accurate solution given ⇔ accurate description of event.” 

Mu-Oragon seemed to be deciding between a collection of pamphlets and booklets, skimming through them with the many prosthetic ocular lenses around his forehead while keeping their human eyes on Titus, which added to the multiple limbs, gave them quite an arachnid appearance.  

“What do you want me to say? There is not much science to it…” Even though the theoretical was quite clear, for the first time since his neophyte years his mind found itself struggling to find a proper practical for it

Titus held Mu’s gaze, curiously the Magos Biologis had retained both of his human eyes, only attaching more ocular addons around. A thing the astartes found quite curious if compared to others of his kind, who preferred replacing the lesser biological counterparts first. Theoretical: Mu-Oragon retained their human eyes, practical: it was a conscious decision due to the more patient oriented side of their occupation, it helped to establish trust.

He found the practical fitting. Wide almond shaped eyes with a reassuring stare, a window to the candid individual living inside machine parts and shrouded in logic based statements. 

Mu-Oragon’s mechadendrite surprised him again by resting part of its weight on Titus’ shoulder, comprehending the man’s struggle for words. He pondered on how much was Mu’s intent and how much was the limb’s machine spirit acting, he would have been lying if admitting that the relationship between mechadendrites and users wasn’t something he found interesting. One of his brothers, a tech-marine, had explained how they were beings of their own possessing an individual machine spirit; yet perfectly synchronized with his mind. Many times acting upon his thoughts without realizing. 

“Following procedure occurs on common stimulation practice. True \/ false?” asked the Magos, extending a thin booklet towards him that read ‘Comprehensive guide to prostatic stimulation’.   

“No” he answered as stoically as he could, looking at the object being handed to him. 

“Inference: this unit’s previous statement = false.” chirped Mu, computer-like clicks emitted as they spoke, possibly running calculations. “Response to Titus’ current statement: compiled. Deeper stimulation > external. [+++P(relief) = P.relief (Release | deep stimulation)] > [+++P(relief) = P.relief (Release | external stimulation)]. E[(---surplus testosterone) \/ (∅surplus testosterone)]” 

“You mean I can fix this by showing things up my ass?” 

“Statement’s truthfulness cannot be validated. P[ ((---surplus testosterone) \/ (∅surplus testosterone)) | (Simple anal insertion) ] = not conclusive. Remark: Relief of ailment ⇔ proper technique = true.”   

Titus swallowed a knot in this throat, followed by a long sigh. He didn’t expect the prescription for his ailment to be a masturbation technique. 

“Doubts prostatic stimulation = E(relief)?” Asked Mu tilting their head to the side. “Inexperienced = true?” 

Titus nodded, noticing how he had been holding Oragon’s gaze the whole time. 

“I can provide asistance ⇔ (consent = True). (Perform on Titus & explain) ⇔ (consent = True)” 

The booklet crunched a bit as he held it tighter, Mu had pulled him apart and back together before, likely there is no piece of him they haven’t touched… in the medical sense. Throne that simple though made him almost produce a low gasp. A different occurrence may have ended up in the rejection of such a proposal, but his situation was all but common. He could barely stay still without rubbing his aching crotch against something. Theoretical: this is just a medical procedure; practical: nothing else will come out of it. 

“Alright Mu-Oragon.” He agreed in almost a whisper. “Just… please be careful.” 

“T(Titus’ wellbeing is my priority.)” Even through the respirator their tone came out gleeful and reassuring. 

A couple days after, back at his chambers, Titus gasped and struggled to achieve the previous results he had experienced with the Magos. He was following the same movements and booklet’s instructions to the letter, his fingers were bigger and thicker than Mu’s; still the efforts left him wanting. He had made himself cum, and it had felt good, yes. But his relief was a cup with a hole at the bottom, never filling. 

Titus pressed his face against the drool covered pillow, recalling the memory from the examination room. Every time Mu had pressed their fingers inside him an asphyxiating wave of pleasure had drowned him over and over, his hairs stood with the remembrance of the Magos’ muffled exhalations due to the effort of manhandling such a heavier man. Another finger, he went deeper, a reminiscent thought of firm steel hands that had held his legs still; spread. 

Mu had played him like the director of an astropathic choir does his organ. Has Titus been the only astartes with a similar issue they’ve had to help? He bit the pillow hard enough to cause a rip, there was anger. The thought of Mu-Oragon giving similar care to someone else brewed an overflowing pot of jealousy and rage in him. But why? It was the Magos Biologis’ job to aid the Astartes, it was obvious there was no emotional attachment to the action. Despite the evidence he couldn’t stop the reassuring and borderline loving statements they had directed at him during the procedure to eat at his mind. How comfortable they had made him feel in his vulnerability, how in the time of their exchange he had silently craved for Mu to touch more of his body, to touch theirs. 

Titus sat in silence, frustrated tears sliding off his cheeks, a lone company in the otherwise relatively bare room. It was quite late at what the battle barge’s internal schedule had designated as ‘night time’, how much of a ‘night owl’ was the mechanicus? Was it proper to visit them? Were they busy? Were they saving another Astartes’ life? Were they soothing other Astartes’ post rubicon testosterone spike? Next thing Titus knew he was already dressed, one thought in mind. He should go to see them, by the primarch’s honor he had to see Mu. 

He moved with haste, weaving through the crowd of servitors engrossed in periodic station maintenance under the watchful vigilance of Mu’s brethren. No, they couldn’t compare to the Magos, none of them. Shit, why did he cram the stupid booklet and lube he was provided into his pocket? It was too late to return, his body would have not allowed him. 

Throne, those clothes were clean out of the dryer though they encountered themselves drenched with sweat. Titus’ walk to the desired wing was a blur, the fight between will and arousal occupied his focus in its entirety. Demetrian’s awareness returned to the front stage with his arrival at Mu’s laboratory, empty except for servitors. He pressed on past examination tables and towering shelves full of implements Titus had no idea of purpose, he didn’t need to anyways, he already had one. 

“Mu…” he mouthed at a sound belonging to what could be Mu’s binharic speech. 

The series of rhythmic computation sounds came out of a nearby room, the door almost fully closed. From the narrow opening left, aside from the overpowering smell proper of incense and machine oil, he could make sense that it was a private chamber.

There they were, sitting crosslegged on the floor, bathed in candle glow making their augments look like consecrated gold. Mu was perpendicular from the door, immersed in sacred meditation. In front of them a towering representation of the machine god crowned the extensive cogitator it was embedded on. The Magos’ hood was down, exposing their side shaved head, what was left of their brown hair in the middle presented tightly tied in a low ponytail. Cables came out of ports and cogitators on the sides of their head, neck and under their robes, connecting them to the one they were praying to. Two of their hands were in a prayer position, the other two resting on their knees. The many mechadendrites seemed deactivated, filling a circle around Mu as they laid over the carpet, like the resting wings of an angel. 

He had opened the door a bit more, taking one step inside yet regretting it instantly. It felt wrong, he was a trespasser, disturbing a sacred intimate rite he didn’t belong at. Titus tried to turn back but a mechadendrite stood to life, clasping hand pointed at the marine as if it could see him. Mu’s eyes opened accompanied by a quick inhalation, reminding him of someone waking up from deep sleep. 

“Unit Demetrian Titus…” surprise took over the Magos whose mechadendrites waved around them covering them until they could pull their hood back up. “Urgent assistance = true?” 

The door rattled slightly as Titus’ hand trembled. Was he feeling fear? The feeling he was made immune of? Mu tilted their head, emitting a series of concerned clicks. They patted a space on the rug beside them, limbs pulling aside to make space for Titus. 

“Permissions granted; accompany this unit. ⇔ desired so.” 

He entered further, making sure that the door was closed behind him. The intensity of the incense only increased with his approach. Titus gave the machine god’s image a look, its aura swallowed him, he was allowed into the room but that didn’t mean he was welcomed, that it welcomed him. 

“Detecting elevated blood pressure, presence of hyperhidrosis. Inference: condition disturbed.” They pointed out when he sat, the rest of their limbs focused on respectfully disconnecting the cables that joined Mu to the room’s cogitator. “Request: details needed.”

“Magos I… I have been doing everything as told.” The words were hard to come up with, this was a bad idea, he wanted to run. “Please, believe me.” 

“Complicance.” they said in what could have been a sigh. “Hormoral reading required. !(time) for a blood scan, +++urgency.” With their words they took the disconnected end of one of the cables still attached to them. “Expedited read | (direct connection = true)” 

A mechanendrite exposed the port at his nape. Even taking into account that the Magos’ intentions were clear and the connection into the ports around his body was a day to day affair; he couldn’t but instinctively want to lean away from the attempt. At least while conscious he had only been connected to external machines and his armor, making Titus and it become one. He was unsure of what linking to another conscious creature would be like. 

“Mu wait… ah…” 

He gasped at the connector’s insertion, a cold wave washed over him. Then, pressure. An extra force needed to be applied for the linkage’s proper attachment. Titus flinched when the plug was inserted to full length and secured. It has never felt this way, the imperceptive clicking shouldn’t be that all consuming, the effortless pressure shouldn’t send a shivering echo across his whole nervous system. The next breath came from lungs outside of his chest cavity. Parallel thoughts stood by his own. Connection state: stable. +++(blood oxygenation). Execute t01101000… wait what? 

“Requests: stand still for reading.” Mu pleaded, their voice sounding closer than the separation between them suggested. “Current testosterone levels = previous reading. Insulin levels within Astartes range = true. Leptin levels within Astartes range =  true. HGH levels within Astartes range = true…” they paused, Titus couldn’t see Mu’s throat but felt it on his own as it moved in a swallow. “+++(Oxytoxin levels)” 

A mechadendrite slid its rigged tentacle down his back coming into a wrap around the waist. The Magos glared at it with burning disapproval hasting the limb to release him. Unbecoming = true.

“What is that? Is it wrong?” Titus asked, a pressing heat that wasn’t the one already overwhelming him joined the room. 

“Oxytoxin = {social bonding hormone, love hormone, reproduction…}” 

The command for Mu’s arm to disconnect from him was clear, Titus’ enhanced reflexes were faster, applying pressure on the Magos’ hand before it could pull the connector out. A heart that wasn’t his drummed frantically. P(mutual) = 80%. Could it be that they have also been feeling something similar? P(mutual) = 88%. For how long? P(mutual) = 90%...

Titus leaned forwards pressing his lips on Mu’s cheek right when it met with the respirator, the skin was so soft, their smell like the rest of the room = {iron, candle wax, incense, sweat}. Mu’s arms resisted the approach but the many mechadendrites welcomed him, they acted upon their master’s subconscious wishes. 

“+++(levels) = {oxytocin, adrenaline, dopamine, vasopressin}.” They reported faintly. “Warning: Unit Titus breaching patient-magos protocol.”

“Are those hormonal readings yours or mine?” He asked with a tinge of humor, yet letting the wanting show. 

“Irrelevant.” The Magos chirped with higher pitch than normal before more mechadendrites started rubbing themselves around Titus like purring cats, then stopping when Mu directed a stern echoing mental order. 

“How long?” he asked, pressing his body against those appendages, begging for their touch. 

“Comprehension | (Unit Titus’ attention = true)” Oragon’s voice barely rose over the rushed clicking of their cogitators. “P(rubicon primaris success | healthy Astartes) = 61.6%. E(rubicon primaris success | medically dead Astartes) = ∅.” Was it a memory that flashed before him? Anger, defiance, approval, tension, relief. “Demetrian Titus: Omnissiah’s miracle. T(Demetrian Titus is my biggest pride).” Mu pressed their forehead against his. “T(Demetrian Titus is this unit’s most beautiful creation). Possessive desire = true.” 

He tried to get even closer, mind screaming to the magos’ to take him theirs as their right was. A slight passing migraine struck him, pushback. 

“I want ∈ Titus. I want Titus ∈ me.” 

They paused, a constant stream of data rushed from them to Titus. Failure = true. Unfaithful = true. Weak = true. Heretek = true. Heretek = true. Heretek = true. Heretek = true.  Heretek = true. Heretek = true. Heretek = true. 01001000 01100101 01110010 01100101 01110100 01100101 01101011 00100000 00111101 00100000 01110100 01110010 01110101 01100101. 01001000 01100101 01110010 01100101 01110100 01100101 01101011 00100000 00111101 00100000 01110100 01110010 01110101 01100101 01001000 01100101 01110010 01100101 01110100 01100101 01101011 00100000 00111101 00100000 01110100 01110010 01110101 01100101.

“I’m here Mu, make me yours.” Titus purred, pressing his face on the Magos’ neck, their scent ordering his body into a surrender. +++(serotonin levels). 

“I want to execute statement compliance. Intervention. This unit !(execute) statement compliance. Mu !∈ Titus. Titus !∈ Mu. Mu ∈ The Omnissiah. Titus ∈ The Emperor.” With the great effort of several limbs they were capable of pushing Titus away, his whimper had a twin companion. “ F[P(I ∈ (Omnissiah & Titus) & Titus ∈ (Me & Emperor)) > 0]. Titus’ understanding = true?” 

“Mu, being with you will not make me stop fighting for the Emperor nor will distance you from the Machine God.” Unit Titus’ statement = True. “It will only make me fight harder, to fight for the Emperor is to fight for humanity, you are part of humanity, you are part of what I fight for; what I will die for.” 

Two of the Magos’ hands cradled his face, thumbs rubbing his cheeks, their eyes gifted him a loving painting colored in sorrow ahead of closing them tightly. Mu’s bodily cogitators’ clicking became louder, similar to a tired engine pushing itself up a difficult hill. Every single one of the mechanicus’ limbs trembled and rattled. Titus felt a piercing pain forming behind a skull that wasn’t his own. 

“Magos stop that! You are hurting yourse…” 

“I would hurt myself everyday if it means I do not hurt you Titus.” The lack of machine logic in Mu-Oragon’s statement caught him by surprise, that’s what they were doing, they were ending any process that would distort the message. To the extent of their modification, it hurt. “Attention  =... Listen to me closely please. What’s in your mind, what’s in my mind; it is a chimera Titus. Fantasy. !(logical).” continued as their registry jumped between two conflicting voice modulations. “I will never be able to fulfill your requirements for intimacy. Demand: compliance with silence = true… I am inside your head right now. You have expectations and desires that I cannot match.” Mu opened their eyes, they looked watery and puffy. The clicking sound became more urgent, the cogitators were screaming for it to end. “Body parts you crave that Mu… I…  do not possess. Blessed Cogitators Titus, look how hard it is for me to express myself in your language, do you think a relationship will work? T(I have no place in your world).” 

The hastened clicking relaxed, lungs that weren’t his struggled for air. Mu gave in and placed their forehead on Titus’ chest. Heretek = true. Heretek = true. Heretek = true. Heretek = true.  Heretek = true. Heretek = true. They purred in the comfort they shouldn’t allow themselves to have. Heretek = true. Heretek = true. Heretek = true. Heretek = true.  Heretek = true. Heretek = true. They were surrounded by strong arms whose warmth they had no business craving. Heretek = true. Heretek = true. Heretek = true. Heretek = true.  Heretek = true. Heretek = true. Their face, implants included, being covered in kisses that had a better use on someone else. Yet they didn’t want someone else to have. Heretek = true. Heretek = true. Heretek = true. Heretek = true.  Heretek = true. Heretek = true.

“You are no heretek” Titus spoke clearly, his voice making a body that wasn’t his own yet felt like it; to tremble. “I never asked you to change for me. I will not allow you to change for me. Whatever you bring to me will make me happy, because it’s yours.” 

“Counterargument. Titus feeling this way | (+++testosterone & +++oxytocin). (Hormonal stabilization = true) => Titus !(love) Mu. E(Desire = {∅}).” 

“Theorerical: the result of your reasoning is false. Practical: you are in my head, you must only look.” 

“Compliance.” 

There was an invasive tingle poking at his brain, searching, inquiring. They shared a long moment of silence, lullabied by cogitators and Mu’s binharic musings. It felt strangely intimate, not the idea he had in mind when he came out of his room desperate to have the Priest inside him. Yet he still ached for it. 

Mu looked up to him. Pulling their hood down then guiding Titus hands on how to properly hold their face without disturbing the cablework. Throne, they were so strangely beautiful. 

“This unit’s compliance: approval pending.” They said, “This unit’s compliance ⇔ (Titus’ trust = true & Titus’ consent = true).” 

“You pulled my body apart and back Magos, do you really need more trust?” 

“Mu-Oragon !(had) Titus’ consent for rubicon. Patient previous state = unconscious. Unconsciousness !(match) consent protocol. Repeating inquiry: Titus’ Trust = True?” 

“Yes Mu I trust you.” 

“Titus’ statement = true?” The Magos pressed. 

“With my life, Mu please just… ah…”

Another cable made its insertion into Titus, now at a port on his lower back. His vision blurred for a second after the push that made the connection click, he felt himself holding Mu’s face and Mu’s face being held by his hands. A series of satisfied binharic purrs came out of him… the Magos. A touch, a gentle hand caressing behind his earlobe and going down the jawline made him moan quite loud. Titus tightened his lips afterwards full of confusion and shame. Mu chuckled behind the respirator. 

“Proud remark: Any mortal knowledge of Titus’ body < this unit’s knowledge of Titus’ body.” Both him and them gasped in unison with the many limbs holding him in place. “Proceeding with statement validation.” 

Fingers brushed his hair back in a soothing motion, just like they did that day at the examination room to calm his nerves. 

“Retrieving previously used data; Titus = {good, strong, capable, beautiful}.” 

With every word a new limb joined the embrace. Hands, ribbed tentacles, mechadendrite claspers; they all rubbed and massaged Titus’ body over his clothes. Pleasurable yet with the Magos’ teasing, no contact was made with any greater erogenous zone. The Marine played against the scheme, moving himself in a way Mu would at least grace the most vocal centers about their hunger, the mechanicus fought back trying to anticipate Titus’ moves and not let him have a win. They both were absorbed by childish chuckle and sporadic gasps. Mu’s binharic clicks were cheerful, jovial notes, light and dark compared with the ones from earlier. 

He placed his lips on Mu’s neck, also feeling them on his. And ran kisses over both flesh and blessed metal parts. They tensed a bit when he attempted to touch their chest, Titus sensed a third heart rate increasing followed by a mental note reassuring him it was fine. Without leaving carefulness behind he went down the Magos’ neck, wrapping, what the jealous tentacle allowed, of an arm behind Mu’s thighs lifting their body enough for him not bend on a weird angle to keep kissing down, his lips making out of fleshy and non biological parts under the robe.

That was when the mechadendrites started to infiltrate the openings on his clothes and slide under. The metal was no longer cold as it had been warmed up by Titus’ own body heat. Had that been the Magos’ plan? 

They both moaned at the sensation of ribbed well oiled tentacles rubbing themselves against Titus’ nipples, lower abdomen and inner thighs. The Marine was sitting on his knees, holding Mu with one arm and kissing their upper robed body, the other hand kept making sense of the shapes hidden by red cloth. 

Anchoring themselves firmly on Titus’ shoulders with two of their arms, Mu used the leftover free hands to undo the ribbons, clasps and buttons keeping the robe on. They stopped, only them letting go would uncover their body. He eyed them expectantly, noticing how shades of pink bloomed on what could be seen on their cheeks. 

“Witness the miracle of machine and flesh ⇔ (Units > initiates). Exception logged: Demetrian Titus.” Their voice sounded even more distorted than usual, nervous binharic chirps made interference with their words. 

“You don’t need to undress more if you are not comfortable, Mu.” Titus indicated lovingly as he massaged one of their shoulders. 

The grill covering Mu’s mouth didn't impede him from noticing they were smiling, the expression brightening their whole face. Adoring notes in binharic were said yet nothing in a manner Titus could understand, but he thought how it reminded him about how their prayers sounded like. With ritual reverence they let the cloth go, causing the scarlet to part and barely hang off their shoulders. He felt Mu shiver as that skin didn’t seem used to being uncovered, it was paler than their face and very thin, so much he felt afraid of his calloused palms breaking it open. Said skin was bitten into by metal, flexible pipes and transparent wiring transporting blood. Just as they did with their head Mu guided Titus’ hands across their upper body, reaching the pant's edge, a scar continuing down into the pubis was seducing him to follow it underneath. He would have if he hadn’t  noticed how in certain places clusters of purple broke paleness’ ruling, matching where he may have innocently grabbed or kissed too excitedly.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware you were that sensible.” 

Titus got his mouth close enough to a bruise yet stopped leaving the lips hovering over it, only his breath making contact. He looked up to meet Mu’s gaze, a request for permission written on his. They tightened any grip on Titus leading to a shift of their weight forwards, pressing themselves against his lips. This time he could appreciate how the binharic purrs and notes actually started somewhere between their ribs and echoed towards the grilled respirator in their face to finish being properly enunciated. The pale layer vibrated and contracted with every joint moan, gasp, huff. 

Mu took hold of another cable connected to them that had an orphan end with no port to call home. Instead of going for it right away they let the cord slide over Titus’ chest, going behind him by the left side of his neck and coming out from the right. The cables had a different texture from the appendages holding the mechadendrites, he enjoyed the contrast between stiff ribbedness and flexible softness. The port on the right side of his neck, by the joining with the shoulder, seemed to be the desired spot. The very moment the plug’s tip was to get inserted into it; Titus moved minimally away with a mischievous grin. Playfulness was older than machines, Mu wasn’t the only one with teasing rights.   

Both continued the jolly game for a couple minutes; shifting, giggling. By the end, it seemed Titus would finally accept the insertion only for the marine to get Mu’s hand holding the cable with a light-hearted bite, not exerting a tinge of actual pressure. The Magos hummed then all together, their mechadendrites compressed his body right over spots he would feel their sting the most, the appendages close to his thighs pulled them firmly; forcing him to a more open and exposed sitting position. At the same time, Mu’s free hand seized as much as Titus’ hair it could and yanked his head back with surprising command; displaying the working area. All of it teared out a pained moan out his core. 

“Delivering request for stillness.” They said, the teasing switched its tone from light-hearted into a lascivious one. “Patient Demetrian Titus !(compliance) => Execute: unit’s protocol for unruly patient subjugation. Titus != {bad patient}. (Titus = {Good patient}) = True?” 

“Apologies Magos, I do want to be a good patient, please show me how.” 

“Compliance.” 

His heightened sensitivity perceived the contact between port and connector in ways words could barely describe. When the tip of the connector touched the outer ring, for half a second he could swear that the candles and lumens seemed to brighten then dull back to their normal luminosity. The friction of smooth metal against smooth metal from the middle of the insertion sparked ripples in his brain that reminded Titus just like a vox signal trying to connect. A final push brought the connection to properly click inside, if before it rippled across the nervous system; now there was no system left unassaulted by a powerful spasm.

Demetrian Titus went blank, only remembering short snippets drunk in this unadulterated euphoria, perception shifting quickly between bodies. Once his faculties adapted to the input stream he discovered himself in the same position but things had changed a little. Titus’ top was gone and his pants were down to the knees. Coagulated crimson lines decorated him all over, evidence from scratches his healing factor closed immediately. The marine was rocking his hips at the rhythm of one of the mechadendrites crossing between his legs, rubbing its oiled shaft over the crotch and between the buttocks. He was still holding onto Mu, quite closely. The Magos’ thighs were at both sides of his neck, Demetrian finding his teeth pulling at their pants’ waist band. Two of their hands were finding support from Titus' biceps, the other two grasping at the marine’s hair for dear life; robe barely hanging by their elbows. He saw no reason to stop it there. 

Firmly holding Mu’s waist with one hand he lifted them up a bit, then using the other to grip the waistband at the back Titus slid their pants down, pulling them fully away. His lips' curiosity could finally scout the track indicated by that scar on their lower stomach. His kisses, the wetness of his tongue, the texture of his shaved cheeks; all sensations were mirrored back onto his skin. Then he made an interesting discovery, when he began charting what was left or lacked on Mu’s crotch it also reflected on his cock with curious representations. A  lick on the front was actually felt at the base of his shaft, yet going and kissing a bit to the right from there was experience at the top of his glans. Mu’s moans were his moans, deep, hungry. Their connection was a cyclical loop of pleasure, what was felt on them echoed onto Titus then back into them. He wondered if the mechanicus was capable of feeling arousal from stimulation on that area without a two way connection. Maybe he could try to investigate in the future, as the now had Titus quite busy. 

Mu moved the anchor points from Titus’ biceps to his hands, a metallic finger pried his mouth wide open making sure the tongue was fully out, then lifting themselves up they started to fully ride the Astartes’ mouth at the same rhythm the mechadendrite grinded its length between Titus’ legs. Their speech reduced to huffs and frantic binharic notes weaving the tunes of their shared pleasure. Titus almost dropped Mu when both of them were run over on climax’s path. Trembling prosthetic legs’ embrace became stronger, pressing him firmly on his face, a mortal with not as good breathing capacity would have likely perished out of air. 

They shifted their weight around Titus to climb off his shoulders, sitting on one arm holding them, they pressed their face onto Titus’. That was when he perceived the respirator being slid down, thin soft lips and skin like the one on their other covered areas nuzzled him. Lungs that weren’t his momentarily ached as they readapted to unfiltered air. Mu’s kiss was shy, sloppy, and inexperienced. Their knowledge of other people’s bodies didn’t transfer well to the skill of kissing, it was fine, not like Titus had much either. They could learn together. 

He pulled back from the kiss, not for lack of wanting but the realization he could finally admire Mu’s full face. It was round with big cheeks that were artificially parted with a depression between the cheekbone and cheek caused by the long respirator use. 

“Isn’t it dangerous to take it off?” He asked quite concerned. 

“!(Every unit).” their unaltered voice was more melodious than when muffled behind the respirator. “Mu-Oragon = {sacred binharic, chemical filtration}. Lung condition: stable. !(Risk)” They kissed him again then moved down his neck, he had forgotten, now they were connected Titus’ unquenching lust was also theirs. “Request: taste Titus.” 

“You know the answer.” he smiled back. 

Hums kept emanating from the respirator but without Mu’s mouth to guide them there was no binharic aria, just airy vibrations. He was fine without the tunes, that mouth looked beautiful with their fleshy lips crowning his nipple, disappearing into the bountiful hairy mass of his chest. Cold, a hand stroked up and down his shaft being unable to fully wrap its fingers around it. And Mu’s mouth, it was already small, yet his cock made it look even smaller by comparison, it made the whole Magos smaller by comparison. 

They licked the leftover cum around the tip and down the shaft, maybe now discovering the taste he’ll have an enlightening comeback when Chairon jokingly tells him to go eat his own dick again. 

Titus buckled and moaned not by stimulation itself but a memory, one of Mu’s hands was running its fingers in circles around the entrance to Titus’ backside. They were slippery, quite well lubricated in fact. 

“Titus = {so good patient, follows prescription well}.” Mu teased him. 

A grasping mechadendrite lifted up, holding the opened lube bottle he had stuffed inside his pocket before. Mu’s fingers barely peeked at the entrance, stretching the aroused fleshy ring. 

“Titus’ memories: seen. This Unit's touch: requested. Compliance.”

They slipped inside with the same effortless precision as before, the joy of getting filled as he had been craving was unmeasurable. Titus grabbed Mu’s head and trusted his cock inside the Magos’ mouth, barely getting a third in. In vengeance they got another finger into him, he wailed at the stretch and pressure curling inside him. If before Mu played him like an instrument, the current Titus was the whole orchestra, from groans to wines they composed a melody out of the Astartes’ desire. 

The rhythm became even faster, building a time bomb of pleasure inside his crotch. Drool and precum dripped down Mu’s chin, Emperor, Omnissiah, whoever was responsible: what a beautiful creature they were. Lustful indulgence was ramping up into a crescendo, Titus was getting close to relief he wanted to cry; and he did once Oragon stopped right at the plunge’s edge, denying him. 

Titus was about to ask why when they held his buttcheeks open for the lubed thin rounded head of a grasping mechadendrite pressed into him.

“Wait!” He howled. 

“Titus trust = true.” They whispered hugging the Astartes between their arms, and his cock between their thighs. 

Bastard, they had made it so aiding his throwing member would mean thrusting back and sodomizing himself into them. He had no choice and soon realized how Mu didn’t oversell themselves when they said they knew Titus’ body best, his hole was so well prepared it took the claw and following tentacle quite well. The stretch was so much yet it didn’t feel painful, Golden Throne, it felt like something he didn’t know he wanted but now will never be able to live without. 

Now the mouths of both of them were free he could appreciate how much of a mirror they had become, Titus was the baritone to Mu’s tenor-soprano, singing the same song in parallel harmonies. It was so much, he began bending over until he had the Magos pinned on the floor under him as he thrusted between their thighs, and the Magos had him entangled in many arms and cables as they stretched his insides. 

Titus had been shivering when he approached the same edge of the cliff as before, it being at a higher distance from the ground compared to the last. The Astartes felt as if the fall was going to make him blackout again, Mu had given him so many gifts, brought back to life and now another way to perceive life through the skin of the one he cherished, their skin. 

The timer on the time bomb in his crotch reached zero, a wave of pleasure after the other washed over him, he suddenly became aware of every pore in their skins, every hair on their heads. But it kept on, every single one of Mu’s appendages grabbed onto Titus as if letting go would cost them their life. He squirmed as his asshole didn’t see mercy nor rest, words were not able to be had with a throat so busy on pained moans. 

Wait, did he have so many cables inserted? Titus finally became aware that more than three ports on his body were in use, when did it happen? When he went blank? Realization dawned on him: he was trapped. All this time he had been a careless fly dancing around the spider’s net, every step entangling him more and more until he was fully helpless, ready to be consumed. The moans transformed into howls, those became wails, wails into whimpers, whimpering devolved into sobbing, culminating in the drained gasps of a fuck hole that knows its place. His mind gave up to the pleasure finally breaking and going  blank. 

He woke to the smell of incense and the realization of being so literally empty, laying on his side with Mu facing him. Mechadendrites and cables were still holding him, not with hunger but care. 

“I guess I ruined your rug.” He joked. 

“!(underestimate) martian chemical cleaner.” The Magos smiled sleepily at him, they hadn’t put the respirator back on yet, purplish red bite marks and bruising dressed their lips and lower jaw, Titus rubbed a finger over those. 

“My doing again I suppose, guess even my bare minimum of gentleness is still too rough. I’m sorry Mu, I didn’t want to hurt you.” 

“Reasurance. Preemptive awareness = True. Exchange | risk assessed. Titus design = {Strong, powerful, deadly}. (System’s status: fully operational) => no need to disable recurrence of interactions.” they said, soothing his worries. 

Mu’s voice returned to the metallic distortion as they put the respirator back on, gentle binharic hum seemed to communicate the Magos’ bliss on that moment more than any words they nor Titus could spare. 

Then the song changed to a familiar prayer, Mu started to go over the cables connecting them to Titus in reverse, from the last to be connected to the first. Before each of the disconnections the prayers sang a layered stanza Titus attributed meaning due to the tune; gratitude, mourning, hope. One by one he saw himself dividing from Mu’s senses, his mind grasping at any pieces left of that consciousness which melted into his, a cry of loneliness as what as one was became two separate beings again. He didn’t feel gloom though, as the prayer implied, separation only meant a new opportunity to meet again. 

“Wait a moment.” Titus interrupted when Mu-Oragon got to the final plug that was the first, the one at his nape. 

“Attention = True. Unit Titus wellbeing: stable?” They asked with the leftover sleepiness of someone coming out of a deep trance. 

“Titus ∈ to Mu, and = true - and that will always be true.” He spoke slowly, doing his best to speak on their lingo, knowing they may be doing a horrible job with laughable pronunciation. “Do Mu ∈ to Titus - this is a question.” 

At least his hope of not saying anything offensive by accident was reassured. The mechanicus’ face became as red as the clean parts of the rug they were laying over, nervous binharic notes escaped them like an open faucet. 

“Theoretical” they started, earning an instant chuckle from Titus. “Mu ∈ Titus. Practical: T(Mu ∈ Titus).” 

Just as it all started Titus kissed them on the cheek, right over where the skin met the respirator. Weird, Mu was rubbing the back of his neck, plug gone yet he didn’t feel a disconnection. Maybe the Omnissiah had finally made up their mind about him.

[supernatural-bias]

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐛 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐋𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐏𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐝 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ notes: lars content yay! as far as i can tell, i'm one of the few to do anything on him, so i hope there's more than ten people out there interested in him

↳ warnings: none

↳ song: she blinded me with science—thomas dolby

masterlist | commissions | carrd

• This guy is a snacker

• Take one look at him. You can't tell me that he doesn't constantly skip out on meals in favor of research, usually just pulling a granola bar or stained tupperware from his desk drawer to eat while he works

• Don't get me wrong, Lars can still devour a good bit of food. Sometimes you like to make fun of him for how much good he'll get on his face in the process

• "You're looking at me weird." He frowned at you one day from behind the rims of his glasses

• "Uh, yeah. Wonder why." You grin with mild surprise, watching as leftover rice and beans from the burrito in his hands stuck to the corners of his mouth like glue. He was quick to wipe it all off, ignoring you as you laughed at him

• Aside from that, Lars usually keeps his workplace pretty clean. It's cluttered, sure, but you don't think you've ever seen him wonder where something went. He just always knew where things were. It was like he had a system in his head, and the more you thought about it, the more you decided he definitely did

• The one time someone had even tried to clean his place up, you watched as he immediately jumped in, convincing them that they were needed elsewhere and sending them off before they could mess with his set-up

• Often times, when it's just the two of you alone in the offsight lab, you'll bounce a tennis ball off the wall while Lars types away, only ever looking up to squint at you when the ball gets to close to his head

• "You should really give that to the possesor. I'm sure it'd appreciate it." He hums to you at one point while spinning around in his chair to reach something. Behind you, you hear the unmistakable sound of a metal chair tapping excitedly on glass, and you make a tsking noise

• "Pretty sure you just want me to stop distracting you with my awesome skills." You boast, attempting to do a trickshot only to smack Lars in the back. He glares at you, and you inch backward with a nervous chuckle

• "You know what, I think I'll give it to the possesor."

• "What a brilliant idea." Lars says monotonely. You were quick to get rid of the ball

• He hums while he works!

• It's not anything discernable. In fact, most of the time he isn't even singing real songs. Just little tunes he'll make up on the spot for himself; often as a way to pass the time and make minute tasks fly by

• You notice it quite a lot, but don't really say anything. It's quite entertaining, if you're being truthful

• "Sittin' and waitin' for food. Sittin' and waitin' for food.." He'd improvised once while waiting yet again for a t.v dinner of his to finish its cycle in the labs shared microwave

• "Wow Lars. Voice of an angel, you have."

• "Stuff it."

• Lars doesn't often need help with his work, there's a reason he landed the job after all, but when he does, you're always the first person he goes to. It's a side effect of having spent so much time with you at work, and even outside of it—if you counted lunch breaks and independent experiments as a non-work environment

• He likes being able to get a fresh set of eyes on whatever's stumping him, and it usually doesn't take long for the two of you to work around whatever was holding him up

• Overall, you couldn't think of a better friend/co-worker to have, and the same applies for Lars. Your relationship will only strengthen as time goes on, even withstanding the bizzar experiences that Garraka eventually brings later that year

• But that's for much later. Right now, the two of you are content to sit in the aquarium-turned-headquarters, watching as the hours ticked by without a care in the world

[plat3uau]

I honestly do not know where to begin or how to even write a decent looking introduction, so allow me to just drop this and leave…🤣😭

Okay, but jokes aside, since I’ve been getting really into visual storytelling lately, I just thought “Huh, why not test it out with Jingluo, and capture their dynamic while trying to add a fairytale-like elements to it?”

Also, I genuinely want to become even more expressive through my art, overall… and I guess it’s also an excuse to draw even more stuff related to the two (shhhh, and excuse me for the repetition.😫😫)

Notes on the title (that I think might be needed): I know the matter of language isn’t relevant to the game’s plot at all, but for some reason I’ve developed the headcanon that Luocha is good at picking up languages, as he travels a lot. (I see him just… being very quick at adapting and blending in with the locals’ way of doing things, in that kind of sense. <3)

We don’t really know much about him as for now (still waiting for that lore drop, though!!), but judging from his appearance and aesthetics (so please take this with a grain of salt), he looks like (at least to me) a character from a place based off Europe or the West… So because of that, I had the view that Luocha might have had a harder time actually writing down/learning by heart the Chinese characters (or at least the writing system there) commonly used by the people in the Luofu, when he first set foot there (I mean, I thought of that as it’s a region very much inspired by Chinese culture), since most European languages use the Latin script as for their writing system.

So hopefully this explains why there are two inscriptions: the one on the left side of the canvas is actually written by Luocha, and the other one being the translated version of the title!🥰

(P.S. I tried to translate the title in Chinese to make the Luocha’s writing seem… how to say, more believable? More real? Anyways, I ended up with “我在你身边”, which translates into “I will stand beside you”, so not super faithful to the original title, but I believed that the essence of the general meaning of the original one was still there, so I decided to go along with it.

I’m no native speaker here nor a translator, just a person who studied some Mandarin for a while. T - T❤️)

(P.S.S. I’ll try to keep you updated! My creative process is usually quite slow, so I was thinking that maybe I could share some of the wips with you all. Or you know, just to document some of my thoughts, that kind of stuff. ^_^

Alright!!! I wrote too much, and honestly, BLESS your heart for reading through my stream of consciousness, lmao. But I genuinely appreciate it, I really REALLY mean this.🥺❤️

Thank you so much for taking your time to do so. To whoever reached this point. <3)

[hugmekenobi]

Something New

A Bad Batch Post S3 Oneshot

Gif by @barissoffee

Hunter x femaleJedi!reader

Summary: You have a surprise that'll help you and Hunter take a break from the stress of planning your wedding

Warnings: No use of (Y/N), references to past poisoning, little bit of teasing, some self-doubt/self-consciousness, light swearing, Smut (lingerie wearing, kissing, marking/biting, non-explicit descriptions of slightly rougher sex with unprotected P in V, kissing, reader can be lifted), we have some light fluff and feelings too

<Previous Oneshot (not totally necessary to read but helpful for build up)

Masterlist for S1,S2 and S3

Word Count: 2K

Rating: 18+

Author's note: We're back! Sorry it's been so long!! I have no excuse for this. It was just a little thing that my Hunter addled brain felt the need to include before the wedding oneshot and @decembermidnight very nicely encouraged me to do this so it happened. No pressure to read! Just needed to get it out my system before the next one lol

“Remind me again why I just spent 2 and a half hours listening to all the bands Pabu has to offer and you weren’t there?” Hunter called out tiredly but merrily enough by way of announcing his arrival back home. He loved the people here but some of them were not as talented as they thought they were, and his ears were not thanking him for his patient listening.

“Because we agreed that me reading all the wedding tradition research Tech and Omega keep sending me as well as spending a minimum of 3 hours a day getting poked and prodded by Lyra was equal to you handling the music, food and flowers.” You replied as you peeked your head round the refresher door.

“Hey, I read it too!” Hunter protested. He liked being involved in the process. It was new territory for both of you

“You read the summarised versions I put together, it’s the same as me helping you pick whatever band or flowers you’ve narrowed it down to.” You reminded him with a grin. “All about the teamwork, Sergeant.”

“Uh huh.” Hunter said with a fond roll of his eyes before he changed the subject. “Is there a reason you’re standing in there?” He asked as he casually passed by en-route to the bedroom.

“Don’t come in!” You yelped as you dashed behind the door.

“Why not?” Hunter asked but he obeyed your request and instead carried on to the bedroom.

“I have a surprise for you but now I’m chickening out.”

“Haven’t we had enough of those recently?” Hunter responded nervously. The horrible emotions and memories of your poisoning still lingered in his mind.

“This is a good surprise…” I hope. You added mentally as you stared at your reflection and worked on bringing back the confidence you’d felt ten minutes ago. “But I need you to promise me that you won’t laugh.” You requested, your voice loud enough so he could hear you.

“Why would I laugh?” He asked back, voice equally loud.

“I’m trying something new. We have been through a lot and I’m obviously not just talking about wedding planning stress, and I can only imagine the range of talent you heard today. So, I figured we need to unwind, wipe the slate clean. Hence, this surprise. But again, you cannot laugh, or I swear I’m walking outta here and all this wedding stuff comes to an end. You can marry Shep for all I care.” You threatened, obviously not meaning it but you needed him to understand that this was far out your comfort zone.

Hunter ignored your melodramatics, “What’s wrong with Shep?”

“Hunter!” You cried out through an exasperated laugh. “Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

“I understand but I do think a surprise is ruined by an explanation.” He quipped back as he took off his light layer, draped it over the dresser chair, and rolled up his sleeves as he waited for whatever it is you were talking about.

“When you’re done being a smartass, will you just promise me that you’re not going to laugh?”

“Yes, of course I promise but would you just get out here? You’re not making any se-” You appeared and suddenly he forgot how to speak. He couldn’t form the words. He couldn’t process the gorgeous image in front of him, so he was left just standing there, gawping in pure awe.

You shifted awkwardly under his intense stare and brought your arms to cover yourself self-consciously. “I can take it off if-”

“Don’t you dare.” His voice was hoarse with longing. The dark red lace lingerie set that left little to the imagination suited you and your body perfectly, emphasising ever part of you in a way that drove him crazy with need. The fact that the colour matched that of his bandana did not escape him either.

You glanced up and that was when you sensed the want flowing through him. It was reflected carnally in his eyes. You lowered your arms to your sides. “You like it then?”

All the words he wanted to say required more articulation than what his brain was currently allowing him to do so all Hunter could manage to do was nod dumbly. His hands were clenching and unclenching by his sides as he fought with himself to stay in control of his faculties. He was waiting to see how you wanted to play this.

You’d talked yourself out of doing this countless time up until this point and even tonight that feeling had still lingered but now, hearing and feeling the impact this was having on him, you began to believe it again. The growing confidence allowed you to move forward and dictate what you wanted here. Your simmering arousal grew more as you stepped towards him. “Want to show me how much?” You whispered as you placed a teasing and seductive kiss to his neck and trailed your hand down his chest, undoing a few of his shirt buttons as you did so. You could feel his heart pounding beneath your palm, and you mouthed along the tan skin that was now available to you, smiling as you heard his breaths grow more rapid and uneven. You brought your eyes back to his and waited expectantly.

Hunter didn’t need to be told twice. He dropped to his knees and placed slow, open-mouthed kisses up the inside of your thighs, sucking marks into your skin as he moved closer to where you were absorbing the softness of the material, teeth grazing the edges of the fabric.

“Hunter?” You murmured with a sensual sigh as you brought your head back from where it had fallen towards your shoulder blades and peered down at him. You caressed the side of his face with your left hand, your engagement ring proudly standing out as you moved your fingers with a tenderness that didn’t quite match the intentions you had tonight.

Hunter kissed your palm and relished in the feeling of the cool metal band against your skin as he stared up at you. He was enraptured by the sight of you and completely at your mercy.

You moved your hand to rake your fingers through his hair, tugging slightly at the ends and you smirked at the low groan he ground out at that, before you uttered a simple command without so much as opening your mouth. Fuck me.

The change in him was instantaneous. With a breath that sounded akin to a growl, he got to his feet and kissed you with an intensity to match what you were asking of him before he backed you into the wall. He didn’t miss a beat as he carried on kissing you and picked you up by the back of your thighs.

You matched the passionate strokes of his mouth with yours as you wrapped your legs around him and tangled your fingers in his shirt with a moan you felt him tight against you.  

Hunter didn’t know where to start. He wanted to worship you in the way you deserved to be but the need he had for you was overpowering and he couldn’t stop touching your lace covered skin as he kissed you with utter desperation and need.

You knew what he was holding back for but this time, you didn’t want it gentle.

You wanted it rough.

You wanted to feel him.

Your body was yearning for him, and you couldn’t wait.

You snaked your hands down between you to reach for the waistband of his trousers. I need you. I need you now, Hunter. You said as you had to pull away to draw a much inconvenient but needed breath.

That was all he needed for his lingering doubt and restraint to officially vanish. Hunter didn’t bother removing the flimsy piece of fabric, nor did he particularly want to. So, he merely moved your underwear to the side without breaking the kiss. A low, eager groan rumbled from his chest as he moved into you.

Any pain quickly morphed into pleasure, and you welcomed the sensation of feeling him in this way as he moved against you. Harder. You instructed as you kissed him and took his lip between your teeth in encouragement.

Hunter was only too happy to obey. He relished the loud, breathy groan that emitted from you as he gave you what you wanted and the way your grip on his shoulders tightened, only heightened his own desire for you.

The two of you were to wound up for this to last as long as you usually did, and you could tell by the way his movements started to stutter that he was reaching that point of ecstasy that you were careening towards too.

Hunter could feel you tightening around him, and his words left him in a frantic and breathless manner, “I’m not going to- I can’t- you need to- fuck, you feel so good.” He couldn’t even finish his train of thought. He was that caught up in the feel of you and knew he wasn’t going to last for much longer, but he refused to let you go unsatisfied.

You knew what he was requesting and brought your own hand down between you and a cry left your lips as you went tumbling towards your climax.

Hunter swallowed the precious sound from you and pressed his mouth to yours in a final, hard and fervid kiss as he allowed himself to go with you. You both fell apart together with a shared groan and for a moment, all that could be heard was the sound of the two of you working on getting your breath back.

Hunter pressed his forehead against yours. “Did I ever actually tell you how stunning you look in this?” He asked as he got his bearings back.

“I think the focus lied elsewhere.” You kidded through a tired laugh. “But I got the message without it.”

“Well, you do. I mean you always do but this, yeah, this was a nice surprise.” He said gratefully. He kissed the hollow of your throat. “I love you. You took my breath away and you look absolutely beautiful.”

“Thank you.” You uttered quietly as you stroked through the ends of his hair. “I love you too.”

“Is this what you had in mind before Skara Nal?” He asked, his voice far raspier than it typically was as he lowered you down but continued to toy with you and the fabric.

His shirt was half-buttoned and wrinkled, his bandana askew and he was panting heavily. And you knew you were in just as equal a dishevelled state. “Might’ve been.” You said coyly as you ran your fingers through the shorter hairs of his fringe. “Lyra thought it was pretty important to re-create.”

“Remind me to thank her.” Hunter mumbled against your neck.

“And I have two more.” You said through a gratified and happy sigh as you cradled the back of his head as he lightly and dotingly kissed across your collarbone. “Next time I’ll wear one of the different colours.” You promised.

Hunter rested his forehead on your chest with a low moan. “I don’t know how you expect me to focus on wedding planning when I know this is something that I’ll be returning too. We’re going to have the most bizarre mix of wedding accompaniments cause I’ll just be looking for the quickest way out.”

You chuckled softly and on slightly shaky legs, you made to step past him to freshen up but Hunter’s hand around yours stopped you in your tracks.

“Hold on, what makes you think I’m done with this one?” Hunter said, his eyes gleaming with both mischief and desire.

“Aren’t you?” You replied with a smirk, but your heart was already racing in anticipation once more.

“There were a lot of really terrible bands.” He said by way of answer before he led you towards the bed.

Next Oneshot>

Tagging: @noeasyisnoisy, @andreaaxy, @moonychicky, @notgonnaedit, @arctrooper69, @dizzy-9906 , @nightmonkeysstuff @allthingsimagines , @thegreymarveljedi , @jellybeanstacey0519 , @callsign-denmark , @superbookishhufflepuff , @qvnthesia , @justsomerandompersonintheworld , @ooostarwarsfandom501st

[samwisethewitch]

Grocery Store Fire Cider

I try to always have fire cider on hand during the colder months. Fire cider is vinegar infused with warming, expectorant (mucus-clearing) herbs to help clear out gunk from our respiratory system. It's great for clearing up congestion and helping with wet coughs. Since pretty much everyone in my house tends towards wet cold symptoms (congestion/runny nose, coughing up mucus, etc.), we go through a lot of this stuff every cold and flu season.

I take a shot of fire cider as soon as I feel congestion or a wet cough coming on, or if I've been around someone I know is sick. While it doesn't always keep me from getting sick, I do think it helps speed up my recovery and keep my symptoms less severe.

A lot of fire cider recipes online and in herbalism books call for less common herbs that need to be purchased online or from a speciality herb shop. This year, I decided to make a batch with only herbs you can buy cheaply at most grocery stores. Here's the recipe for my fellow herbalists on a budget!

You will need:

A quart mason jar

1 whole head of fresh garlic, peeled and roughly chopped, OR 3 spoonfuls of pre-minced jarred garlic

3 knobs of fresh ginger about the size of your thumb, roughly chopped, OR 3 spoonfuls of store-bought ginger paste

1 package fresh thyme OR 2 tablespoons dried thyme

1 package fresh sage OR 2 tablespoons dried sage

1 quart apple cider vinegar

There are two methods I've used to make this cider. The traditional method is a slow infusion that takes 2+ weeks, but I've also developed a fast infusion method for when I feel a cold coming on and need a batch of fire cider ASAP.

Traditional Method:

Add your herbs to a clean mason jar. Pour the vinegar over the herbs and fill the jar to the top. Put a lid on the jar. (Vinegar will corrode metal lids, so either use a plastic lid or place a square of parchment paper between your jar and the metal lid.)

Place the jar in a cool, dark place and allow it to infuse for at least 2 weeks and up to 1 month. You can strain the herbs out to store at room temperature, or you can do what I do and store the whole thing in the fridge, herbs and all.

If you leave the herbs in, you can keep this batch of fire cider going all winter by topping the jar up with more vinegar every time it gets below halfway full.

Fast Infusion Method:

Add the herbs to the mason jar like you would for the traditional method. Instead of adding vinegar, fill the jar halfway with boiling water. Let sit for 2-3 hours.

Once the water has cooled down to room temperature, fill the jar the rest of the way with vinegar. Let it sit overnight and then either strain the herbs out or store the whole thing in the fridge.

To use the fire cider, take a shot glassful whenever you feel cold symptoms coming on. If you made your cider with the traditional method, you can dilute it with water if your stomach doesn't handle acid well. You can also mix in some honey to improve the taste.

Please note that fire cider and other folk remedies are not a replacement for medical care. I highly recommend staying up to date on your flu and COVID-19 vaccines in addition to using remedies like this.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for entertaining a friendship with a child?

okay so this might be a weird one or even a controversial one i honestly have zero clue how other people will receive this, apologies in advance if i ramble!

to begin, i (23ftm) and this kid (15f) first met about a year ago. one of my best friends (23m) is a pretty big model and tiktoker and she was a fan of his, and she was pretty recognized online for making cool edits and stuff of him and coming to meetups etcetera, so he knew of her from there, and over time with always seeing each other at meet ups and her being in his discord server (where i mod) she kind of became pretty well known to us.

an important thing to note is that she's SUPER neurodivergent and she's had a really tough life. she lost her older brother a few years back and she's (i'm not sure of the correct way to put it, her family is originally from the netherlands and their english is kind of in the works so this is how they put it) developmentally behind a few years - her parents describe this as her being "mentally more 13 than 15" but her behaviour to me is even younger than that. she's very very innocent and trusting, very overemotional and sensitive to criticism etc, loves stuffed animals and pink and cartoons and all of that. she's told me she feels like a little kid sometimes and will talk/act like one so maybe there's an element of trauma-rooted age regression there, i'm not super sure - i'm not gonna get into detail but she's talked to me about her life a lot and she's had some pretty fucked up shit happen to her.

from the beginning she pretty much imprinted on me - she's told me before i remind her of the big brother she lost, and ever since then she's called me her "big brother" and "family" etc. at first i was more just playing along with it to make her happy but over time she really has become something like a little sister to me, i feel super protective of her. i want to become a teacher after college (not to mention eventually a parent with my fiancee) so i think at least part of it is that taking a kid 'under my wing' so to speak is giving me experience with it all. i've always been kinda paternal/protective over kids in general but i was the youngest sibling in my family so i never really had anyone to utilise that on before

she does rely super heavily on me emotionally, especially because after i found out she was being bullied pretty badly at school i started dropping by to keep her company during breaks/lunch and making sure shit was okay (which her still-living brother used to do, but he's a famous?? - unsure How famous, i don't know sports at all - footballer/soccer player who's often in another country and can't see her often anymore), and i've been working with her to curb that. i'm actually currently working with her parents to find her a good therapist and support system. she's no longer in the tiktok friend's discord just because it was getting a little all-consuming for her and we encouraged her to take a break, but she's done a TON of work on herself and maturing since then and she does plan to rejoin at some point soon.

however, i find it really really hard to gauge whether being so close with a child is... like normal? or not. i honestly can't tell if it's kind of the internet caution about adults talking to minors kind of warping my brain and making me overly wary of what people will think or if i'm doing something wrong or if it's genuinely like a weird situation, so i guess i'm looking for outside perspectives.

the things that make me question it is that like i said she's very 'mentally young', she's very sheltered, and there definitely seems to be an element of her kind of replacing the older brother figure she lost with me. on top of that, we met through her being a fan of my friend, and though she's now separate from that i worry there could still be an element of power there because i'm close with the guy she calls her idol. her family knows me and seem totally chill with everything, but they've told me she tells people at her school that i'm literally her brother and basically 100% talks about me as if i'm her biological family, which i find super sweet but at the same time wonder if it's healthy.

she obviously needs therapy and hopefully soon we can get her it, but: AITA for entertaining a sort of found family dynamic / friendship at all with someone very vulnerable and young or is this genuinely helpful for her?

What are these acronyms?

[afictionaladventure16]

Hey! I love your Tim Bradford x teen! Reader fics! Was wondering could you do another one? Reader reconnects with someone they met through the system who's had a rough go. Maybe they were in the same house for a while and relied on each other a lot in that house to keep each other safe. But as they reconnect reader doesn't realise how toxic the relationship is. Tamara knows the dodgy stuff that the kid gets up to from her time in the system and warns Lucy and Tim because she doesn't want reader to fall back into bad habits with them. Maybe reader gets in trouble and calls Tamara to save them?

Reconnections and Regrets (Tim Bradford x Teen!Foster!Reader)

The Rookie Masterlist

Warnings: Mentions of guns and drugs

Summary: After trying to reconnect with people in the past, y/n realizes quickly why the past should stay in the past.

Author's note: I feel like this one wasn't the best fic I've done so far. I really liked this idea for the fic, though! I hope you enjoy it! Send in some more Tim Bradford x Teen!reader angsty fics!

You had promised yourself that you wouldn’t get back into your old habits. 

That you would forget your past and move forward, just like Tamara had done, and just as every other kid within the system wishes they could do. To have the ability to find someone to take you under their wing and help you forget your past. An opportunity to start over. 

But here you were, texting an old friend with plans to catch up later that afternoon. You couldn’t help but smile at the messages, you were excited to catch up with old friends. But most of all, you were excited to catch up with a special someone that you hadn’t seen since Tim took you in. 

The special someone was a boy named Jacob, the two of you had been in a foster home together when you were younger and he protected you from your foster father and well, you tried to do the same. You couldn’t help but develop feelings for him over the years. 

The last you heard about him was that he was living with his cousin, from what you knew, this cousin was bad news and you could not help but worry about Jacob living there. Especially since he stopped responding to your messages when he moved in with his cousin. It felt like he had just pushed you away. 

“What are you smiling about?” Tamara asked as she sat on the couch beside you. You had come over since Tim wasn’t home yet, and well, since Lucy and Tim were dating it now felt like you had two homes instead of one. 

“Nothing,” you responded. 

You could feel Tamara peeking over your shoulder to look at your phone, you quickly locked it and put it on your lap. 

“Please don’t tell me you’re talking to Jessica,” she pleaded. 

“Alright, I won’t.” 

She rolled her eyes, “Y/N, you know how I feel about her.” 

“Look, I’m just trying to reconnect, what harm-” 

“You know what can happen. You gotten out of that life and now you’re trying to go back? You get Starbucks on the daily, you’re in the cheer team and you go to a self-defense class for crying out loud. You’re not the same girl you used to be, so don’t think they’ll be coming at you with open arms.” 

You gave her a small glare, “Stop acting like you don’t think about going back to see your old friends from time to time.” You got up from the couch, “Maybe instead of focusing so much on my life, you should take a look at yours first.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Tamara asked as she followed you as you walked towards the door, “Where are you going?” 

“Out,” you stated as you walked out of the apartment. 

“Fuck,” Tamara exclaimed. Maybe she should’ve kept her mouth shut, but she felt she had to say something, otherwise, you would end up hurt. But now she felt like she had made things worse. 

On the other hand, you were annoyed by how she was right and maybe you got angry with her out of fear. Fear that maybe your friends, like Tamara had said, wouldn’t be as inviting as you think they would be. You hadn’t just changed through your personality but through your appearance too. You now had someone who would take you shopping for clothes you always wanted to wear, but never did out of fear of them getting stolen or taken from you. 

You acted like a completely different person now. A person who learned to trust a little more easily and you now weren’t afraid to just be yourself. 

On my way over, you sent it to Jessica. 

It wouldn’t take long for you to get back to the old neighborhood, it was a twenty-minute bus ride away. Or thirty minutes walking, but with the Los Angeles heat, you’d take your chances with the bus. 

~~ 

A couple of hours passed, and Tamara had not received anything from you. Beginning to worry had already surpassed, she was the definition of completely terrified of what could go wrong. She should’ve texted Tim or Lucy the second you left, but she wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt, but not the guilt was eating away at her. She let out a frustrated groan and called Lucy. 

Lucy picked up after a few rings, “What’s up?” 

“Look before you start yelling, I was trying to warn her okay?” 

Lucy furrowed her eyebrows, “What happened?” 

“Please don’t be mad, but Y/N was here and I saw her messaging one of her old friends and we got into an argument about it and now she’s not responding and I’m scared she’s gonna fall back into some bad habits, especially because this girl is known for doing certain things.” 

“How long ago did she leave?” Lucy asked. 

“Like two hours ago,” Tamara confessed. 

“And you’re barely calling me?” Lucy raised her voice, but quickly let out a sigh, “Do you think she went to see this friend?” 

“I know she did,” Tamamra hesitantly said. 

“Alright, for now, we’ll just see things out. We can’t just go there all guns blazing when there is no trouble,” Lucy stated. Although, she wanted to go all guns blazing because she was worried for Y/N’s safety. 

“Are we going to tell Tim?” 

“Tim already knows,” Tim announced. Tamara could hear the anger in his voice, and the fact that he never said anything until now, meant that he was indeed angry. 

“Look, just keep us updated, let us know if you hear anything from her, alright?” Lucy said. 

“Alright,” Tamara hung up the phone. 

Lucy didn’t say anything to Tim, she waited until he did, but he remained silent. 

Lucy let out a deep breath, “do you want to talk about it?” 

“Talk about what?” Tim asked. 

Lucy rolled her eyes, “About Y/N sneaking off to see her old friends? I mean, it’s obvious that you’re angry.” 

“I’m not angry.” 

“You’re not?” She asked in almost disbelief. 

“I’m disappointed. I thought she trusted me enough to tell me things, well, I thought we had gotten to that point. Now I feel like we hadn’t made any progress at all.” 

“You know that’s not true,” Lucy began to say. 

“Is it?” Tim cut her off, “because from my perspective, it doesn’t look good. I love this kid and I want to be more than just another foster home for her, but almost every time we get close to making a breakthrough she pushes me away.” 

Lucy sighed, she felt that maybe with her experience with Tamara, she would know what to say, but somehow this was different. “Just give her some time,” Lucy suggested. 

Tim wanted to say that he had given her all the time in the world, but that made it sound like he was giving up, and he didn’t want to give up. He just wished he knew what to do. 

~~ 

You had been with Jessica walking around your old neighborhood for the past two hours, hoping to run into Jacob and it didn’t take you too long. 

From a distance, you can see Jacob at the park talking to some guys that looked to be older. 

Jessica smirked as she watched you stare at Jacob from a distance, “you know he still asks about you.” 

You scoffed, “really?” she gave you a nod, “yet he won’t return a text.” 

“He thinks he’s too tough for all that shit now, he even dropped out of school,” Jessica commented. She walked in front of you, “We should go over there,” she suggested. 

Now that you were here, you had a sort of fear lingering in the back of your head. You knew the chances of hanging out with Jacob meant that you could get into trouble, but that voice inside of your head just wanted to talk to him once more. 

You shrugged, “I don’t know.” 

“Oh come on, Y/N. Don’t act like your main purpose for hitting me up was so you could see him again,” Jessica grabbed your hand and began leading you to the park. That fear within the back of your head was beginning to get louder the closer you got to Jacob. 

“Maybe I should go home,” you began to say. Jacob was only steps away and at the sound of your voice he quickly turned around. 

“No way,” he said with a smile on his face. “Ain’t no way she came back to see us,” he exclaimed as you sighed and walked up to him. “For a second I was beginning to think you were too good for us.” 

You rolled your eyes at his comment, “How you’ve been?” you asked. 

He glanced over at his friends then diverted his eyes back at you, “I’ve been decent.” Jessica walked over to his friends, of course she would know who they were. She was quick to strike up a conversation with them. Jacob took a couple of steps away from the group, gesturing for you to get closer. 

“I heard you’re staying with your cousin,” you began. 

“You shouldn’t have come back, Y/N,” Jacob warned. “You got out and I’m proud that you did.” 

“It’s not too late for you to do the same,” you commented. 

He shook his head, “I’m too deep in this shit.” You knew what that meant. You knew that his chances of getting out of this life were gone. “You really shouldn’t have come back, people know you’re staying with a cop. My cousin knows,” he began. 

Your heart began to race, “Why did you stop texting me back?” You asked. You had to ask before you left, you knew his cousin had beef with cops and anyone associated with them. 

“You left and well, I had to go with my cousin and that meant-” 

“I know,” you interrupted, not wanting to hear him say it. To hear him say that he stopped talking to you not just for your own good, but his as well. 

“You really should go,” he began to say. From the distance you could hear the roar of an engine, it caught Jacob’s attention. “Fuck,” he whispered. 

“Sounds like your cousin is back,” One of the other guys began to say. 

You looked over at Jessica, “we should go,” you said. 

Jessica opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted by the roar of the engine, a second later a car came into view and parked in the parking lot of the park. 

A guy came out of the car and began making his way over to the group, “So the rumors are true,” he began to say. “Jacob’s little girlfriend is back,” He smirked. 

“Hey, Frankie,” you said. 

“Is that all I get? Hey Frankie?” He scoffed before looking over at Jacob, “I need you to come with me,” he began as he glanced over at you, “and bring your little girlfriend.” 

“No, Frankie. You already know she liv-” 

“Did you just tell me no?” Frankie interrupted Jacob. “Do you not remember the last time I had to put you in your place?” Jacob clenched his fists, “or do you need a refresher?” 

“Fine,” Jacob grabbed a hold of your hand, “let’s go.” 

“Wait, what? I-I need to go home,” you pleaded. 

“No, no,” Frankie began, “you’re coming with us now.” 

You felt your anxiety rise within you, this is what Tamara had warned her about. This is what she was afraid of and now it was too late. 

“Jacob,” you whispered to him as soon as you stepped away from Frankie, “Where are we going?” 

“I don’t know,” he whispered. “I told you, you shouldn’t have come back.” 

You remained silent, the best thing you could do right now was to stay calm. 

Frankie drove the two of you two a house down the street, he led the two of you inside, “Dude, what the fuck, why did you bring us here?” 

“I told you I wanted to show the business,” Frankie said. 

“And you thought it was wise to bring her here?” Jacob commented. You looked around to see equipment you couldn’t recognize and powder inside blenders. You knew what was happening here wasn’t good at all, it was a lab of some sorts. A shitty one at that. 

“I want her to see what we’re doing, if she says anything then I know who ratted us out,” Frankie stated. 

Jacob shook his head, “that is the stupidest thing you have ever said. I swear you’ve lost it since you started using.” 

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” 

“Did you not hear yourself? You want her to purposely rat us out, for what? For us to lose everything?” 

Frankie pulled out a gun and aimed it at you, “So then should I just shoot her?” 

Your eyes widen, “What the fuck, Frankie!” Jacob exclaimed as he stood in front of you. You clung to Jacob’s arm, you could feel tears beginning to well up in your eyes. 

One of the guys from earlier came running in, “We got a problem.” 

Frankie sighed and put his gun back in his belt, “what?” 

“Enrique is here and I don’t think he wants to talk anymore.” 

Frankie looked at the man with anger in his eyes, “Stay here,” he told Jacob before walking out front. You pulled out your phone as soon as Frankie left. 

“What are you doing?” Jacob asked. 

“I-I was in over my head coming here,” You began as you looked for Tamara’s contact. 

Jacob rolled his eyes, “Calling your cop dad is just going to get me locked up,” He commented. 

“You wanted me to go, so now I’m calling my friend to get me the fuck out of here,” you stated. You heard a gunshot coming from outside, before you could even ask Jacob anything, he ran outside. You called Tamara, hoping she would pick up fast and that she wouldn’t say a word about this to Tim. 

“Y/N!” Tamara exclaimed. 

“Tamara,” you choked out, “I-I need your help.” 

Tamara face fell, “Where are you?” 

“I don’t know, we were at the old neighborhood and Frankie showed up and he-he’s on something and it looked like he wanted to show Jacob a-” Another gunshot rang outside, you jumped to the sound. You ran from your spot in the living room, you found a bathroom in the hallway. 

“What was that?” Tamara asked. 

You closed the door behind you, locking it before jumping inside the tub. “Please, help me.” 

“Okay, okay, stay on the phone. I’m gonna connect Lucy okay?” Tamara quickly added Lucy to the call. “Please pick up,” Tamara said to herself. 

“Tamara,” Lucy began, “you hear anything from Y/N?” 

“Lucy,” you said. 

“Y/N?” 

“Lucy, I added you to the call,” Tamara explained. 

Lucy quickly put the phone on speaker, Tim was quick to understand what was going on. 

“Y/N, Hon are you okay?” Tim asked. 

Just hearing his voice made you feel even more guilty, you felt the tears fall down your cheeks, “I’m sorry,” you choked out. 

“Y/N, honey, it’s okay, right now I need you to tell me if you’re okay, are you hurt in any way” Tim reassured. 

“N-No,” you stated. 

“Good, where are you?” 

“I-I don’t know. Some house in the old neighborhood.” 

“Y/N, do you think you can share your location with me?” Lucy suggested. 

You placed the phone on speaker as you went on your phone to share your location, “There,” you stated. 

“There it is,” Lucy said. 

“Let’s go,” Tim said as he placed the shop in drive. 

Another gunshot ranged through the air, “What was that?” Tamara asked. 

“That sounded like a gun,” Tim stated as he drove. 

You stayed on the phone with them until they had gotten there. You had hung up the phone once they arrived, You could hear the gunshots coming from outside, meaning that Lucy and Tim’s presence wasn’t welcomed. Sirens were coming from the distance, you felt a little at ease knowing that backup was coming. 

Still, you remained in the bathroom until it was safe. The shots subsided and you heard footsteps within the house. A few seconds later someone knocked on the door, “Y/N?” Tim called out. 

You quickly got up from your position in the bathtub and opened the door. Before Tim could even react, you had your arms wrapped around his torso, he let out a relieved sigh as he hugged you back. 

“I’m sorry,” you cried out. 

“It’s okay,” He said as he gently rubbed your back. “It’s alright, let’s just go home.” 

You agreed, following him outside. You looked around for Jacob, making eye contact with him as he sat inside one of the shops. Tim had noticed, he knew that you needed this closure with your past, “hey, roll down the window,” he told the officer who sat inside the shop. He did as he was told. 

Jacob stayed silent, “I guess this is goodbye,” you began to say. 

“Next time, stay out of this neighborhood,” he warned. You gave him a nod, “And if there is a next time, I probably won’t be as inviting.” 

Tim gestured for the cop to roll up the window, he knew you didn’t need to hear more. “There won’t be a next time,” you whispered as you walked away from the shop. 

“Y/n!” you heard Tamara call out. 

“Tamara!” You ran up to her, she engulfed you in a hug. “I’m sorry for everything I said.” 

“It’s the past now,” she said. “Let’s just forget about it,” she said as she let go of the hug. 

“Tamara is gonna take you home until my end of shit,” Tim stated. “We’ll talk then, alright?” 

You gave him a nod, following Tamara to her car. 

“If there is anything I learned today, it’s that the past is the past,” you said once you got in the car. “And you’re right, I’m not the same girl I was a year ago.” 

“We’re lucky,” Tamara began, “Not a lot of us get this opportunity in life and when we do, we do everything we can to not go back.” Tamara started the car. You knew that you wouldn’t come back to this life, but something within you was going to miss it. Miss the little moments of happiness that made you feel like you had a home, but now you had an actual home. It wasn’t the ideal home, but it was a home and you had someone who gave you a sense of family even if it wasn’t picture-perfect. 

[venoooo]

Reddie headcanons ♡

- Rich refers to the act of kissing / making out as "sucking face" and Eddie absolutely despises it. They'll be at one of their homes, or in the clubhouse, and Richie will casually just go "Hey, Eds, you wanna suck face?" or "Suck my face, will ya, hot stuff?"

- Eddie likes staring at bugs but will freak out the moment one comes near him. Richie, on the contrary, has no problem picking bugs up or even having them crawl on him. Which is why, sometimes, when they're in the Barrens, Rich will catch Eddie staring at whatever bug or trying to chase after one to see it. He will gladly grab the bug so his boyfriend can admire it for as long as he wants.

- After they got together, Richie constantly joked about how he got with only one of the two loves of his life; the first being Eddie, the second being Sonia. This genuinely made Eddie feel bad and Richie had never felt guiltier than when Eddie told him how uncomfortable the joke made him.

-Richie is more sensitive to temperature than Eddie, and his hands are (almost) always cold.

-Most of Eddie's music taste is based off Richie's recommendations.

-This is canon in the novel, but I think it's not talked about much; Eddie has an amazing sense of direction. He seldom, if ever, gets lost, but Richie... It's better he doesn't walk around without a map.

-Though Richie has a very poor sense of location, his sense of time is unbelievably accurate. They'll be hanging out in the Quarry and ask what time it is, no clocks in sight, and just by the position of the sun or his own perception, Richie will be able to accurately tell what time it is.

- Richie was a boy scout like Stan during his early childhood, so he knows a lot of basic survival skills, like how to build a fortress from scratch, what plants are safe to consume or how to start a fire. This has saved their asses sometimes.

- Eddie likes sports and he's actually pretty good at them, but Sonia doesn't want him being physically active because she thinks Eddie is "fragile". Richie knowing this will specifically invite Eddie over to play whatever he wants or run track.

- Richie loves Star Wars, Eddie prefers Star Trek.

- Richie loves coffee, but drinking it will make him hyper as well as give him tachycardia. Eddie doesn't mind coffee, but is concerned that consuming caffeine will damage his cardiac / nervous system, so he avoids it as much as possible. Instead he opts for herbal teas, which he gladly shares with Richie.

- Rich loves to drink and will drink often. Eddie can drink, but he's hesitant because of the negative effects etanol can have on the human body. And, sometimes, when Rich gets shitfaced, Eddie will scold him and remind him and remind him of all the terrible, terrible things that will happen to him if he continues to drink that much.

- After having read Romeo and Juliet in school, Richie would visit Eddie's home and go "O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo?" from outside his window.

- Richie can't control his mouth, Eddie can't control his expressions.

- Richie once gifted Eddie a pillbox that he thought he might like and Eddie hasn't used another one since.

- Eddie treasures each and every one of Richie's notes / letters / drawings and keeps them hidden inside a box or something so Sonia won't find them.

- Richie had braces at some point, and Eddie wanted braces because of that.

- Eddie probably likes kissing Richie more than Richie himself likes kissing Eddie, but he'll never admit to it.

- Richie will make sure, year after year, that Eddie's birthday is celebrated to the best of his abilities because he knows Sonia doesn't do much for him on that day.

- They were the first to sign each other's year book.

+

That's all I have for now, have a nice day!

[grison-in-space]

Hi! I was just wondering if h could talk a bit more about the organizing service? What made you sign up for it/how did you find it?

I have a lot of clutter and I feel like something like that would be helpful lol

yeah! at the moment my brain is goo but I am happy to natter on a bit.

This was the service we used. They are pretty clearly hopping; there's obviously a hell of a market for the service especially among the neurodivergent and especially especially for ADHD folks.

I came into a bit of money this year I've been able to throw at big quality of life sinks, and that... was pretty obviously one of them. Spouse and I have spent the last decade or so ricocheting between stressful life events, many of which have destabilized our home (multiple floods and very hasty interstate moves, for example) and... it shows in the messiness of our home, which gets overwhelmingly cluttered and therefore hard to clean. Especially because we're both dog nerds and have accumulated.... a lot... of dog stuff over the years.

So. Cleaners seemed impossible with stuff everywhere and, also, overwhelming, did I mention that? Some of the stuff was aspirational (could we be the kind of people who eat ice cream out of fancy old timey sundae glasses? Turns out, no). Some of it was hobbies that we don't have anymore. Some of it was just not a good fit for our current storage. Some of it was duplicates from stuff we bought because we couldn't find the original.

What the organizers mostly did with us was go slowly through our shit, help work out what needed to stay and what needed to go, and then work out homes for things to live based on our needs. For example, my bedroom is pretty small and the laundry is in the basement, so we haven't really been great at getting clothes from laundry into dressers ... so we're pitching the dresser entirely and making a system for finding clean clothes quickly from a series of laundry baskets.

We have a shit ton of dog toys, including both stuffies and a lot of food puzzle toys. They helped walk through which toys needed to stay and which could go, and then they helped us create a series of boxes we can pull toys from a couple different types for every month to rotate among the toys they already have, based on the spaces we had available. (I bought one of those moveable sectional sofas where there's storage in every seat. Worth it.)

And it was just nice. The owner of the business noted that she hires based on the ability of the person to be kind at all times to people who are struggling with clutter and stuff, no matter why, and that was definitely bourne out for us. I think our organizers were one senior lady who has been at it a while and two newer folks, a middle aged lady who had retired from nursing and a youngish college kid, and they were a really good mix of thoughtful ideas and inquiries about how we currently use various spaces and what we'd LIKE those spaces to be instead.

It's easier to deal with someone else's mess than your mess, and it was a lot of up front assistance to get the house in a lot better shape than I could have done on my own. We paid about $3000 for 36 organizer-hours split over two days, and it was well well worth it. I think it will be much easier to clean the house and keep it tidy now, and I'm very much looking forward to getting to kick back and enjoy the results.

[luminouslywriting]

Heyy, I recently found your blog and omg I’m obsessed🫶It’s so rare seeing people that write for Band of Brothers.

Could you maybe write something about the BoB guys reaction to their new lieutenant being a woman? And they fall in love after a while and stuff. Just a fun little idea lol, have a great day!

Nonny, I adore this idea so much! Enjoy note the fact that my requests are open and I adore spam!

Cut for length, kept short and sweet since I've done some similar things to this, and please note that my requests for Dead Poets Society are also open :)

Dick Winters:

-He's stunned in the best way possible—super impressed with your credentials and your reputation already and gives you the utmost of respect.

-I think he genuinely enjoys working with you and getting to know you—it's a slowburn for sure though.

-Doesn't make a move until he's in Austria with you and you two get to talking about what'll happen at the end of the war and everything :)

Lewis Nixon:

-Laughs at first because he thinks you're joking and then very quickly has to backpedal himself out of the dog house because oh SHIT he did not mean to offend you

-Quickly becomes one of your closest friends and talks to you about a lot of his relationship issues back home—the two of you are a very much "will they, won't they" type of thing

-You probably hook up while in Austria and things just progress from there.

Ronald Speirs:

-Secretly impressed by you the entire time but is not about to share his feelings on that—but he keeps a careful eye on you and makes sure to have your back whenever you need it

-This man is out here just trying to make the men drink 'respect women' juice and that starts w/his example and he's perfectly aware of that.

-Steals a lot of stuff so that he can express his feelings to you with nice things haha

Buck Compton:

-He's pleasantly surprised and waits to make a judgement until he gets to know you—best decision of his life really

-He's out here able to talk to you about literally anything and enjoys your company as a friend first and foremost, which is important to both of you

-He absolutely writes you once he leaves the line and hopes that you come back safe

Carwood Lipton:

-Shows you nothing but the utmost respect and never steps a freakin' toe out of line. He probably isn't even trying to get close to you because he doesn't want you to get the wrong idea about him.

-Bonds with you during Bastogne and deeply admires the way that you carry yourself in hard situations

-Probably asks in a soft tone if he can write take you to a nice restaurant once all of this is over and take you on a date

Joe Liebgott:

-Simp with a capital S, and there's just no putting that any other way. This man hangs onto your every word and then pretends as if he never heard you speak. SIR, GET AHOLD OF YOURSELF.

-In all practicality though, he's probably the type to become your friend and hang out with you/help you integrate with the men

-And when he's talking to Webster about his post-war plans...yes, they involve you and no, you are not aware of them (yet, anyway haha)

Donald Malarkey:

-Also someone who is not about to step a toe out of line or show you any disrespect. He takes the time to listen to your opinions and your orders and values what you have to say.

-It's quite easy for him to fall for you, though he's not going to say anything about it until some liquid luck finds its way into his system during Austria

-Feelings are exchanged and so is a kiss :)

Eugene Roe:

-You are his favorite lieutenant—the most competent person in the world in his eyes—and one of the people he values most.

-He consistently takes the time to check in on you and makes sure that you're doing alright in your leadership position and tries to keep a wary eye out for anything that might do you harm.

-And if you kiss him after the events of Bastogne to get his head back in the game?? Well neither of you is going to kiss and tell haha

Bill Guarnere:

-Doesn't know how to feel about it at first?? He's a little confused and a little standoffish but then he sees how Sobel treats you and he's just not having it

-So the two of you become fast friends after that and integrating into the group is a lot easier with Bill on your side

-Admits that he loves you amidst a bloody and snowy ground in Bastogne and hopes that you'll write to him

Joe Toye:

-Impressed by the fact that you've made it this far and isn't about to go out of his way to make life easier or harder for you. He's just going to simply have your back.

-However, he's a great person to talk to and always will second your opinion or thoughts and add that he thinks it's a good idea.

-Also the type of person who writes you love letters after he ends up back home and hopes that things can work out between the two of you

George Luz:

-Makes a joke about it at first and then realizes that he has colossally messed up–grovels a little bit and does you a few favors before becoming your friend

-He relies on you a lot, especially during some of the heavier times for the company, and if you keep a smile on his face, he falls for you

-Would, in fact, invite you to come home and meet his family (you know, if you want haha)

[indigochromatic]

Some Basic Advice About EMDR for Systems

(drawing on our own experiences, reading about it, and comparing notes with our therapist)

This is mainly aimed at systems who are considering doing EMDR or planning on it, but want to know what the process is like and what to look out for, with some personal experiences sprinkled in.

Under the cut, because I talk a lot:

General Concept

I think the big picture in our experience is that EMDR is/was like…an intensifier for the kind of headspace/internal system interaction processing work that a lot of systems do naturally, at least a little, especially if they have decent internal communication. This has both upsides and downsides/areas to be cautious about.

A lot of EMDR pre-work (often called “resourcing”) is about making sure you have a good toolbox of “mental tricks/techniques” to be able to handle unexpected intense emotions, feelings, and/or imagery etc that often comes up when you get into trying to work with traumatic stuff. This is in my opinion very important, and something your therapist should take at least a few sessions to talk with you about even if you already have good tools for it already, just to make sure they know your strategies and you’re all on the same page. Also super common and normal to spend some time developing extra ones if needed—stuff like “the box” for temporarily containing crisis emotions when needed, having a mental “safe space” that you can come back to, etc. Also, EMDR specifically tends to often be a little rigid/scripted in the types of visualizations and metaphors you’re “supposed” to use, but in my opinion a good therapist should be flexible enough to adapt to equivalent images/techniques you may already have (like, “imagine you’re viewing the traumatic memory on a movie screen, or out the window of a train going through a tunnel” is a common instruction; if, say, your headspace has a lot of fantasy elements and it makes more internal sense to be viewing the memory via…scrying in a dish or something, your therapist should be down with you doing that instead, if you want to).

As for the sessions themselves, a big thing we don’t hear articulated a lot is that, in our experience  and that of some other folks we know, EMDR has a tendency of being…like, sneakily intense: It doesn’t necessarily hit you all at once in the session, which may just feel like “ok, that was Some Therapy Work but I’m chill”, but then over the rest of the day and maybe even the next few days, it’s not uncommon to keep feeling a lot of emotional intensity/vulnerability, having more intense “internal conversations and/or realizations”, etc. For this reason, EMDR is generally supposed to start with a very mild memory-to-process, like 4-5 out of 10 max.

Notes of Caution and Stuff to Keep In Mind

Especially for folks who already heavily dissociate from emotional trauma, it’s super easy to think you’re “going too easy” only to find that the memory has a lot more emotional baggage than you realized—really go easy on yourself when you start, EMDR is like psychology power tools and you absolutely can hurt yourself. (We’ve heard from plenty of systems who had bad therapists who did not adequately support them in doing EMDR, and absolutely fucked them over by starting too big and retraumatizing the hell out of them— this isn’t meant as fear-mongering, especially if you really like and trust your therapist, but just genuine “hey, EMDR can be very volatile stuff, which is part of why it can be so helpful, but also means that it’s important to not skip out on the safety precautions and self-care”.) What this means in practice is often stuff like: (our recommendations at least) - trying to schedule breaks/easy days immediately after - possibly getting someone to drive you home, especially if you know you’re going after a Big Thing, because the dissociation hangover immediately after can be pretty real - start with a memory that feels "too easy", and scale up if a week later it still felt trivial/like you’re fully over it, because it’s way easier to ramp up than try to do damage control.

Our personal experience, in tl:dr form, was that it felt like the core of the technique was really useful for us, and mirrored some of the most useful instances of self-processing we’d had before while also kind of serving as a “shortcut” to it—but, it was pretty intense and we didn’t really like/fit well with the therapists who we were working with at the time, which is why we stopped (didn’t want to keep doing an emotionally intense thing with folks we didn’t trust).

Finally, a bit about EMDR and "maybe I'm plural but I'm not sure, and/or may not have great in-system communication": yeah, this is a case to be especially slow and careful, for all the aforementioned reasons; what my instinct/recommendation would be in those cases is to: 1) make sure you learn a lot of resourcing techniques 2) try to check in with yourself(s) frequently and with compassion/intent-to-collaborate, "ask the inside of your head how it's feeling" and even if you're not sure whether the "reply" was just your own thoughts or a headmate, listen and try to engage with/respect those responses and emotions 3) if you start getting warning signs/back-off signals/sudden intense feelings, listen to them and lighten up, pause the session if you need to, do some self care etc, even (especially) if you don't know why you felt that way and it seems 'odd/random', and really you're super curious about what's going on and just want to figure it out. Like...you and the inside of your head and/or other system members are trying to navigate a complicated D&D maze together, in the dark, and you each only have part of the map--so you have to work together and trust each other, especially listening to warning signals even when your "part of the map" doesn't show anything to worry about there. And the more you work together and trust each other, the better everything gets, including therapy work.

When it's "Death By A Thousand Papercuts"-type Trauma Instead

If you're not sure where to start because there aren't a lot of obvious "Big Bad Memories" that feel like they adequately explain the issues you're having, some recommendations:

-> First, note that "no Big Bad Memories are immediately coming to mind, idk" is super common in systems and also in CPTSD, way more than I think most folks realize, so know that you're not alone and also that it doesn't mean you don't necessarily have stuff deserving of help and support.

-> So yeah, there's kinda two things imo you can try. The first is, if your therapist is on the more flexible side, you can try doing EMDR with either "this specific memory wasn't too bad, but it's representative of an ongoing pattern or theme that wasn't great" (say, loneliness at school or something, and you pick a specific lunchtime memory, which wasn't really That Bad in the moment, but you were kinda sad and/or upset about it and it feels representative of the overall trend you're trying to process/heal). Or you can try just doing the EMDR process on the theme itself, at the abstract level, and see what comes up--again, I'd really recommend starting with a much lower-stakes issue/theme than you think you need, just because it's really easy to underestimate, especially for systems and other folks whose brains dissociate a lot. (And especially if you know your system has episodic amnesia--e.g. event-amnesia/blackout amnesia--as well as emotional amnesia.)

The second is, there are other "more flexible" types of similar somatic therapy techniques (brainspotting is the name of another one, and there's more I can't think of rn) that might fit better instead-- tldr, totally worth asking your therapist about the whole situation, and asking what they'd feel most qualified for/comfortable with, in my opinion. You don't need to be doing Specifically Exactly EMDR to do somatic trauma therapy, even though EMDR is one of the more well-known modalities for it, and finding a version that feels right and not like you're forcing anything is really valuable (and you're not 'being picky' if it takes a while to find one; you're allowed to want to find one that feels right).

[copperbadge]

More on mindfulness and meditation

I feel like perhaps I came across as anti-meditation in that last post I did on it, and there were some folks who were a bit vocal about not liking meditation in the notes, but the notes also had some great and interesting discussion of what can count as mindfulness that isn't traditional meditation and what some alternatives might be, so I wanted to do a follow-up. Especially since I don't think I'm going to get to respond to everyone individually.

The post was not meant to be anti-meditation, but to express frustration with the way meditation frequently is, or rather fails to be, taught. I can understand why people would struggle with "mindfulness" (vastly overused term) and meditation, so I'm not here to argue with or shame anyone, and I really appreciate the alternative suggestions. But because mindfulness can mean so many things, and people can meditate for many different reasons, I wanted to talk a little about why I'm being asked to do it.

It's easy to lose track of why one might try meditation for mental health, because the cause and effect are so temporally dislocated from each other. I try to keep in mind that my specific goal is emotional regulation deriving from increased present-moment attention. Some of the stuff that was suggested is great for a goal other than this, like puzzle games that allow people to empty their racing minds or activity that brings someone back into their body when dissociating -- both extremely laudable functions! -- but that's not why I'm here. Meditation is meant, for me, to be a maintenance medication, not a rescue inhaler.

There is science that suggest that mindfulness practice, under a specific definition of the term, can help to manage emotional dysregulation, ameliorate Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria, and reduce depression and anxiety. I discuss the science in a slideshow here but essentially this specific form trains the attention into the present moment, which improves executive function -- and as we know, emotional regulation is a facet of executive function, so this leads to better emotional regulation.

There is not a lot of science on it yet so there is room here for yoursamplesizeissmall.jpg, but it's all we've got so I'm running with it. There is one foundational practice and three practices that build on it which effected this change in subjects of the study:

Breathing Meditation doesn't really confer any benefit the others don't, but the others all employ it as a basic practice. We know this can calm the parasympathetic nervous system, although to be honest I have not found that to be the case personally. As soon as I stop the deep breathing I'm right back where I was, likely because my issue is ruminational, not situational. But everything else wants you to breathe first, so I still have to do it.

Body Scan focuses attention on the body and as others have pointed out is good for people prone to dissociation. As I said in the other post, I live here; paying extra attention to my body isn't something I need. I was asked to try it anyway as part of a practice in keeping an open mind about stuff I think is dumb, and clearly I do need practice in that. Still, it's likely I'll be able to let this one go pretty soon.

Loving-Kindness asks you to think positively about others, expanding compassion from a single point outward to the world. I've encountered this before in reading Pema Chodron; I don't do it as meditation, but I do try to practice it in life because I am not naturally a patient or compassionate person, and that has been helpful in the sense that it keeps me from getting punched in the face a bunch. For me there's no real "train the attention to be in the present" aspect on account of that, however.

Observing-Thought is where you just sit with your thoughts, let them arise, sometimes label them in some way, and let them go. I was most interested in this purely because it's the only one I hadn't already encountered. I haven't found it useful so far, but I don't have enough data about it to be definitive, and if it is training executive function I would expect that to take time.

Now, I know that all four of these have science backing them, so I know that we're not just dealing in new-age woo here. The problem is functional, not theoretical. The issue overall is not "meditation is boring" -> "find a way to make it interesting", although I do appreciate that it may be an issue for others and I like that people were offering solutions. The issue for me is that the boredom derives from the fact that the meditation isn't being taught. There's no progressional learning -- there's no step-progress-reward-step-progress-reward like with most difficult skills.

Any task is boring if you aren't deriving any reward from it or you are being expected to execute it without skills or training, and in this case I'm facing down both. Long silences from a meditation leader are fine if you're there to engage with a practice you already have familiarity with, but if you're trying to learn, they are the opposite of helpful, and they are actively punishing to someone with ADHD.

I don't want to be entertained (I mean, generally I do, but in this case I don't expect it). What I want is a pedagogical approach that steps up to the practice rather than beginning with it, so that I know I'm doing it right, I experience rewards along the way similar to how I currently do learning Italian, and I have more confidence that what seems dull and fruitless actually will produce results.

Uh, so yeah thanks for coming to my TEDtalk; the fact that a practice that's especially hard for people with ADHD helps with almost every problem ADHD presents really sucks, and I wish we approached teaching meditation as if it were something you actually did have to learn rather than something you're supposed to Do Until You Get It. In the meantime I guess bumping the speed on the recording isn't the worst thing I could be doing.

[talenlee]

Decemberween 2024 — My Players

You know who you are, if you’re reading this.

I am a big fan and advocate for 4th edition Dungeons & Dragons, for the simple and objectively true reason that it is the best version of Dungeons & Dragons that exists. It is the version of this iconic game that enables new players, tactical play, and a consistent, even player power level that still lets players do cool things they want to do. Based on this, it is the game I think that you should always start with if you want to introduce a new player to the most generic platform for tabletop games.

Anyway, I haven’t run 4th edition D&D in about a year. My play group hasn’t been happening.

I have instead been running Blades in the Dark now for about four months for a group that includes at least one player who’s never played TTRPGs before.

If you’re not familiar with Blades in the Dark, oh there’s my link to my review of I’ve written about it, oh and things that are built off it that I also like and even contributed to, oh and here’s me comparing another game to it as a failure, never mind. I think it’s reasonably clear that this is one of my favourite TTRPG systems, for entirely personal reasons. I mean one of the things I love about this game is that the book is nice to hold in the hand, which I could use as the underpinnings of a 2,000 word academic article about interface design or I could just be as honest and say it satisfies me to hold it.

Blades in the Dark struck me as the place to start because it meant that I could hande the pdf to my players and know that they had 100% of the information they needed to play the game and we were all working off the same, public information. This occurred to me as a nice way to ease the experience since I knew I was dealing with more than one neurodivergent player. Blades in the Dark is also very flexible; when players engage with the game, I can reassure them that there’s a lot of power in their hands, that they get to make choices and demands and my job is to adjudicate and illuminate around the, not to present their choices to them.

Blades in the Dark also parcels up player time in really handy chunks; there are scores, there are downtimes, and because the game splits things up like this, a player can drop in or drop out of it easily. That meant that if I set up a game using this system, players could drop in or drop out very easily, and the game would handle the presence or absence of characters, without needing excuses or reasons for why a character wouldn’t be present in the narrative.

Also, Fox, who is playing in the game, she made us a Virtual Tabletop. Now, when I read this to her she’s going to point out that hey, hey, she didn’t make it from scratch, there was already a thing that she built it from or she ‘just’ updated something to make it viable for us, which I appreciate but it’s also silly as hell because just because you bought the table from Ikea doesn’t mean you’re not the person who made it in our living room.

I used Discord for this. I made a Discord, set it to a community discord, and that gave me access to the forum tools. Then, I could set up the forums, where one set of forums were for the players. Each player could make a forum thread for their character, to keep notes, ask questions, put lore, images, that kind of thing. On my side of things I set up a forum of world stuff, where I could put districts, gangs, that kind of thing.

Okay, but this is just describing things around the Decemberween Thing. Right? Like this is a Decemberween article, I’m meant to be using this as an opportunity to tell you about stuff you can watch or listen to, right? Is this promoting an Actual Play or something?

Kinda.

Or rather, I’m trying to promote you, personally, starting your own TTRPG group, with any TTRPG you like, on discord, or whatever, and play with your friends, because that social experience rules. It is the highlight of my week, to show up with my friends, using a Google Spreadsheet to manage my locations and factions and all that, a dice roller program, and the joy of listening to and sharing with my friends. We even have our own strategy examples for doing great at this game, which is, you just roll sixes.

This is what I recommend. I think you should start this kind of thing up. I think you should, if you like TTRPGs, start a group. Ask some friends. You know how many friends you need to try out TTRPGs? One. You can just pick one friend, pick any of the free games, even the GMless ones, and see how you like telling stories together.

And…

I have world information.

I have world building for the setting I made to put this game in. I have this space which is a sort of alt-history, Victorian whalepunk, island country, modelled on Australia, the Phillippines and New Zealand. It has gangs and factions and it has a system for police districts. It has a world deepened by the players’ creations and their contacts and friends and it’s so cool and at least, right now, at least right here, I’m not writing about it, or sharing it with you. Not to be rude to you, not because I don’t trust you or don’t want to brag about how cool my players are!

But because not everything I make becomes part of this blog.

It’s a balancing act: On the one hand, I want to make sure you know that what I do is demystified. Nothing I do is hard, nothing I do is done because I am special and better and able to do things you can’t. On the other hand, these players aren’t here to be Media that I Produce for an Audience. Maybe we’ll all decide sometime in the future to make this as shareable content, maybe letters or missives from the world. Maybe I’ll put together a dossier about the world, its gangs and the lore, so you can use it to run a game yourself, if you like.

Here, though? Decemberween?

I want to highlight that my players are incredible.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!