#WHICH IS WHY I GET SO ANXIOUS TYPICALLY WHEN OTHERWISE..

[noxtivagus]

guys i've been improving a lot lately i'm happy w myself

[wososcripts]

Tell Me of Your Grief

Stina Blackstenius x Reader

Summary: The fourteenth of March brings back some rather difficult memories, and you don't always make the healthiest decisions. Stina intervenes.

Word count: 4.4k

A/N: sorry it's been a while, I've started uni again which means my writing is somewhat slower! With some luck I'll be able to get things up once a week? But that remains to be seen... I promise this is hurt/comfort and not just pain btw.

Warnings ⚠️: discussion of death, self harm behaviors (mild), angst angst angst

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You woke up that morning to a text from Jonas saying you didn’t have to come to training. 

It felt weak to admit it, but part of you was relieved. You knew Katie must’ve talked to him, which was mortifying if you let yourself think about it too much, but she knew you needed this day to yourself. 

It was the anniversary of your best friend’s passing—five years in the making. You hadn’t told many of your teammates what happened, or why you became so withdrawn and somber the week around the 14th of March. It was too difficult to explain. All of the dramatics that surrounded the event, the pain, what you had done wrong, what she had too, it was all still too delicate for eyes you didn’t completely trust. 

You hadn’t even told your girlfriend Stina yet. You’d meant to, really, you had, but the days slipped by and there never seemed like a good time to do it. You knew it would ruin any good mood you were in, and honestly you enjoyed having Stina as your respite when the rest of the world seemed to be knocking against your skull. But it felt wrong that she didn’t know. It felt as though you were hiding something from her, even if it wasn’t intentional.

“Hi baby, I’m not feeling well today so I won’t be at practice. Don’t worry your head when I’m not there. It’s nothing too serious, though, so I’ll be back tomorrow.” You spoke into your phone, recording a voice note to send to her so she wouldn’t be left in the dark about where you were. 

Stina was a worrier, something you yourself could understand, so you always made the effort to let her know if you were running late or not going to something. Otherwise you’d inevitably get a call with her anxious voice on the other line. 

It was early, too early for even Stina to be up. The sun had barely begun cresting over the horizon, casting a slight glow to everything. You wanted to go back to sleep, particularly since you hadn't slept all that well to begin with. Your back hurt from being tensed all night as you were plagued with anxious dreams. On your palms were the remnants of nail indentations—some of them bloody from how hard you had been pressing.

You turned on a podcast and closed your eyes, hoping the sound of human voices would lull you to sleep. It must've worked for a little while, because the next time you opened your eyes it was truly morning, and the podcast had switched to another episode. 

The dreams had continued, unsurprisingly considering your waking mental state, and the extra hour of sleep you might be able to get if you closed your eyes wasn't worth it. So you got out of bed, throwing on a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt to go for a run. 

You weren't typically a runner—in fact you were practically ethically against doing it as a hobby—but it was useful for clearing your head. And with no training today, it would feel good to get out for at least a little while. So you blasted your music and took off into the streets of London, completely lost in your own world. Nobody spoke to you, nobody looked at you. 

By the time you had finished, you were sweaty, red-faced, and exhausted. The endorphins began to flood your system as you stripped and started the shower. You turned it almost as high as it could go, hoping for the burn against your skin. You hissed, stepping under the spray, and tears sprung to your eyes. Your skin immediately began to redden. But you didn’t move to lower the heat, instead grabbing your shampoo, gritting your teeth, and bearing it. 

—

“Morning, Blackstenius.” Beth called, clapping her on the back soundly as she wandered into the locker room. 

Stina expected to find you there, sitting by your locker getting changed into your kit and reading your book as you always did, each morning. But you weren’t there. Your locker hadn’t even been touched. She furrowed her brow, then remembered that you had sent her a message earlier. Maybe you had asked her for a ride and she hadn’t seen? Maybe you were going to be late today? Maybe you had some kind of appointment you’d forgotten about until the last minute—you were notorious for that. 

“Morning,” Katie said, sitting down next to Stina on the bench and pulling her kit out of her bag. 

“Morning, Katie.” She replied, opening her phone to look at her message. 

She brought the phone to her ear, confusion and concern filling her chest as she listened to your voice. Though your words weren’t all that worrying, she could hear in your voice that things weren’t right. 

“How’s she doing?” Katie asked, having heard your voice coming from the phone. Her voice was cautious, something unusual for the Irish captain.

“Did you know she wouldn’t be here today?” Stina asked, confused as to why Katie seemed to be clued in to your mood before her. Maybe you had sent her a similar message? She was your best friend, after all. The two of you made a ridiculous pair—her loud and aggressive, you nearly silent and composed—but you’d known each other longer than anyone else on the team, and everyone knew Katie would do practically anything for you. 

Katie was quiet, glancing around at the other girls in the room. Now Stina was worried. Even though you had told her not to be, that it wasn’t anything serious, she couldn’t help it now that Katie was acting so strangely. 

Once it was just Stina and Katie in the locker room, Katie answered her question. 

“Listen, it isn’t my place to tell you anything. You know how private she is…” Katie sighed, rubbing her temples. “I can’t believe she didn’t tell you, probably didn’t want to worry you, the idiot,” she mumbled under her breath to an increasingly concerned Stina. 

“Katie.” Stina said firmly, “What the fuck is going on?” 

She wasn’t usually one to swear. But where you were concerned, the possibility that you were hurting, and had hidden it from her, that warranted much more than cursing. 

“Today is difficult for her, very difficult. That’s all I feel comfortable saying. But if you want to go, Jonas is going to understand.” 

Stina’s heart was in her stomach. Images flashed through her mind, a thousand different horrible things this could mean. 

"Difficult?" She questioned, "Katie, is she safe? Do I have to be prepared for—"

"It's not like that, she isn't in physical danger." 

The answer wasn't reassuring to Stina, who now felt a little ill at the thought of you home alone today. She should be there with you. Someone should be there, if you didn't want her (God, she hoped you wanted her, trusted her). The urge to press more information out of Katie was strong, but Stina held herself back. Katie was right—you needed to tell Stina yourself. Otherwise any insight into your head would be forced entry, a violation of the trust you had both with Katie and with her.

So Stina simply nodded and looked back at her phone to reply to your message. 

Okay, I hope you're feeling all right. Can I swing by later and bring you something? I'd love to see you <3

She wanted to give you an option to say no to her visit—though she would prefer to just go over there now. At least now if you didn't answer before she showed up she could say she had reached out.

—

You waited until the water ran cold to get out of the shower. Your skin was raw to the touch, and still a subtle red color after you had dried yourself off and began braiding your hair. You could hardly stand to look at yourself.  

You threw on the only clothes you could stand on your skin—a pair of soft sweatpants and fuzzy socks—along with Stina's old Häcken hoodie she left at your place a few days ago. It smelled of her which comforted you even if she wasn't here. 

Your phone dinged with a message. Upon opening it, you saw Stina and Katie had messaged, and that you had two missed calls. 

"Eat something." Was all your message from Katie said. 

She knew you, and knew you wouldn't want to eat today. But you had to.

You went to open Stina's text when your phone lit up with another incoming call. It was from Sandra, the mother of your friend. She did this every year, and every year you told yourself you wouldn't pick up. It wasn't healthy for either of you—it reopened wounds that were barely scabbing over as it was. She inevitably cried, and asked why you had left her daughter alone that night, and you bit your lip raw trying to keep quiet and apologize.

But even though you knew the script, you picked up the phone. 

"Hi," you said, your voice noticeably smaller.

You heard a sigh of relief on the other end.

"How are you, Sandra?" You continued, your fingers picking at your lip anxiously. You felt it start to bleed and did nothing.

"Are you still in Limerick?" You continued your flood of questions, waiting for her onslaught to begin.

A few minutes later, once you were on your tenth question and you'd switched from your lip to pressing your nails into your bloodied palm, you heard her begin to cry.

You weren't sure how you managed this every year. Memories of the funeral flashed behind your eyes, and how you hadn't been allowed to stand near the front with the rest of the friends and family. How Sandra had wailed, and smacked you across the face in the parking lot. You stared at your kitchen backsplash and just listened.

"Why, why did you do it?" She cried, and you bit the inside of your cheek.

"I'm sorry." You whispered. 

"You left her alone, you killed her, you always brought her home expect that one fucking night and look what happened. It should've been you, it should've been you, you don't deserve this—" 

And so it continued. Tears streamed down your face as your brain began to shut down as a defense mechanism. You just felt numb. Nobody else existed in the world except for you and this woman whose life you had ruined. No Katie, No Stina, Nobody that gave you their love and wanted you here. You didn't deserve what you had, not your success where it should've been your friend's, not your team, not your girlfriend. You were an imposter on this planet, a thief.

—

It turned out that going over to your place wasn't as simple as it seemed. Stina tried asking Jonas if she could be excused from practice, but he insisted that she stay just for an hour. Arsenal had a match with the Spurs in four days and Jonas wanted to go over strategies with the forwards. No skipping. 

So Stina stayed—looking at her phone every thirty seconds for a text from you. There was nothing, and it freaked her out even more.

Whatever Jonas was saying, none of it was registering. She would ride the bench if she had to, it didn't matter to her now. Her leg bounced nervously, and Viv looked at her with concern on her face every couple of minutes. When Jonas went outside to take a quick call, she turned to Stina and immediately asked after her.

"What's wrong, is it something with Odi?" 

Stina nodded, her tight lipped expression telling Viv all she needed to know. She gave Stina a look of sympathy and glanced at her watch, clearly wondering when the meeting would be over as well.

"Odi, something's wrong with her?" Beth butted in unabashedly.

You'd gotten the nickname for a few reasons: you'd danced for years as a child as a ballerina, which showed in your play. You were showy, and graceful, not the aggressive type. Like a swan, someone had once said to you—and the swan lake association stuck: Odette, or Odi for short. Arsenal's dancer.

Jonas re-entered the room before Beth could ask any more questions, saving Stina the struggle.

"For Christ's sake, let the poor girl go," Beth called out as Stina checked her phone for the hundredth time.

Jonas sent a look Beth's way, but decided to be merciful.

"Alright, Blackstenius, you're excused. But I'll be seeing you tomorrow."

Stina practically ran back to the locker room, throwing her kit into her bag and getting changed as fast as she could. A steady sense of dread was building in her. She decided to call you as she left the training grounds and walked to her car, hoping she could catch you and tell you she was coming. It would soothe her mind just to hear your voice.

But instead of your voice on the other end, Stina was met with the busy signal. That confused her even more—you weren't a fan of phone calls necessarily, and she knew your parents would be working now, so it was unlikely they would have called you.

She tried once more, hoping she had just happened to catch you at the tail end of a call, but you still didn't answer.

—

You had barely hung up the phone with Sandra before the tears began to pour from your eyes. It was as though time had made no difference and you were hearing of your friend's death for the first time. All the pain, all the self loathing that had fallen down upon you then still crushed your shoulders with its weight.

Your phone dinged again—a message from Katie.

Respond to me or I'm coming over there myself.

You didn't want Katie here. She had been there in years past, and for her to see you no better despite the time and therapy you put in, well you couldn't handle the shame.

I'm alive and well - see you tomorrow at training

You replied, knowing if you told her you were fine and left it at that she might kill you herself. 

You giggled at the thought of her huffing and puffing at you, demanding you take better care of yourself like a surrogate mother. When your mother wasn’t around, Katie did a damn good impression of her. You never got away with anything if Katie had a say. You laughed through your tears, feeling like every nerve of yours was on a razor's edge. 

A knock at the door barely registered in your mind as you wandered over to the couch, wanting nothing more than to curl up in a ball and waste away for the next twelve hours. Your head was beginning to hurt from all the crying, which only soured your mood further. For the first time you had the thought: I don't want to be alone.

You thought it must’ve been a hallucination, the way Stina appeared in front of you. 

—

Stina wasn’t sure what to expect when she knocked on the door of your apartment. She had spent the entire drive over worrying about how she could find you, partially cursing Katie for giving her just enough info to get her mind going in a million unhelpful directions. The fact that you weren’t texting her back hadn’t helped either. The road before her blurred as she drove without thinking, her body getting her to your apartment building on instinct. 

The elevator dinged at each floor and with it her heartbeat increased. 

When you didn’t answer the door it dropped. 

“Hello?” Stina called out, having opened the door with the spare key you had given her a few months ago. She cursed herself for not staying with you last night when you looked so weighed down, so tired. She’d let you convince her you were fine—something she wouldn’t do again anytime soon.  

When she turned the corner from your kitchen into the open space of your living room she spotted you. There you were, curled up on the couch in a small ball, silent. 

“Did you hear me knock?” She asked softly, approaching you.

You didn’t reply, didn’t even look at her. 

She slowly reached out a hand to place it on your head gently, when you turned and looked at her. It frightened her—the look in your eyes. She hadn’t ever seen them so empty. 

“Stina?” you whispered, confusion present in your tone. 

“Yes, min kärlek, jag är här.”

She put a hand softly on your face, cupping your cheek.

“You’re really here?” 

There were tears beginning to gather in your already red eyes. Stina felt her throat constrict. You’d been crying, clearly a lot by how swollen your face was. 

Stina pulled you up and into her arms easily, shifting you so she could sit on the couch with you in her lap. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked gently, remembering that you had said once that hearing her speak her native Swedish calmed you down. 

You wiped your eyes, lip still trembling slightly. 

“Did Katie say something? Or Jonas?” 

Stina wiped your cheeks with the pad of her thumb, brow creased with worry. 

“Katie said today was hard for you, that’s it. Promise.” 

You went silent, thinking. 

“I was going to tell you. I promise, I meant to. But it just never seemed like a good time, or I just wanted to avoid it as long as possible…you see, Katie met me not long after it happened, she was there, it’s different. I didn’t trust her with this and not you on purpose. She can’t help but know.” You shifted off of Stina’s lap, curling in on yourself next to her so your skin wasn’t touching.

“I hate myself for it. I do, really. And every time I tell someone, they might hate me too, I know that. And I just couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t give you the chance to hate me.”

Stina put a hand on your shoulder, biting her lip to contain a small sob when you flinched away from her. It was as if you weren’t even there in front of her. All of the grace and kindness and light that had been there just a few days ago seemed to have been swallowed by darkness. To hear you say the words ‘I hate myself’? Stina could cry at the thought of it. Those were words that should never come from your mouth. It was like a knife in her ribcage. 

“Min söta… älskling”

“Don’t call me that,” you sobbed, putting your hands over your eyes and hiding your face from her. 

"Snälla, låt mig hjälpa dig, please, I want to help.” 

You shook your head, face still obscured from Stina’s view. 

This was horrible. Stina felt as though she’d eaten something rotten the way her stomach churned. She was helpless, completely in the dark. Here she was, the person who was supposed to take care of you and love you, and she could hardly do anything. All she could think to do as you cried quietly was pull you into her side and rock you slowly. A melody popped into her head—one her mother had sang to her as a child when she was ill. 

Stina softly sang, trying not to feel embarrassed by her voice. You were beginning to calm, your hands dropping from your face to her shirt, holding it close. By the time she was finished, the room was quiet, empty of your cries. You were clinging to her, your face buried in the crook of her neck as if you were ashamed of the comfort you needed. 

“What was that song?” you asked, voice hoarse. 

“It’s a lullaby. I can’t remember the name.” 

Stina felt you nod against her skin. 

She opted not to say anything further. You were exhausted, she could tell. Anything you wanted to say, you needed to volunteer. 

After a few moments, she felt your grip on her shirt tighten. 

“When I was nineteen, my best friend died.” 

Whatever Stina had been expecting to come out of your mouth, that wasn’t it. She sucked in a breath, trying to remain unaffected. You needed her strength. 

“We had been friends for years, since we were kids. And we’d gotten in this huge fight over something… uni I think. I had an offer to play professionally. I had been drinking, so had she. And I always walked her home, always, when she had been drinking. The way to her house was a bit sketchy, you know? So I figured two people were better than one if anything happened. But the things she said to me that night… I’d never been so upset in my life.” 

You took a breath, 

“So I refused to walk her. She didn’t press, just turned up her nose and walked away, didn’t even say goodbye. And I waited for my bus. The next morning I get a call from her mum—she’s been killed.”

Stina could barely trust herself to breathe. 

“I let it happen, I’m the reason she died.” 

“No—” Stina began, but you cut her off. 

“When they held the funeral, I wasn’t allowed to say anything. I wasn’t allowed anywhere but the very back of the church, because they all knew it was my fault. And still, they know it, they remind me of what happened, what I’ve done. I stole her life!” 

“Stop!” Stina demanded, her face flushed with anger. You were taken aback by her passion, and quieted. “You did not steal anything, you didn’t kill her, it isn’t your fault!” She grabbed your hand as you pulled back from her. 

“You lost your best friend in such a horrible way, and nobody checked in? Nobody held you?” 

You opened your mouth to speak, but this time Stina silenced you.

“I want you to tell me what you mean by ‘they remind you’ of what happened.” 

You refused to meet her eyes. 

“It’s not good. Not for me or her… she calls me, my friend’s mom, to talk.” You hesitated, but explained the routine to your girlfriend when she fixed you with a look. 

“That’s…” Stina seemed at a loss for words, “you are the strongest person I know. And you rake yourself across hot coals for a crime that isn’t even yours. For a woman who wants to see you suffer, who can’t accept your healing. That isn’t right. You did not kill her. That is someone else’s burden to carry.” 

You burst into tears again. 

—

You must’ve fallen asleep at some point, because the next time you wake up you’re in bed, and Stina is wrapped protectively around you. Her warmth encases you; she holds you more protectively than usual, her arms shielding you from the world. 

Eventually the two of you get back up, though not before Stina wraps you in a crushing embrace and lets you know she’s staying for a couple of days. No negotiating. 

She makes dinner, you clean. It’s the first time you’ve eaten all day, and you think she can tell by the way she watches you intently. You feel cared for, and it’s a little overwhelming. Stina doesn’t let you out of her sight save a few trips to the bathroom and one brief call from her sister that she has to take.

You didn’t expect things to shake her up so much. 

She helps you clean the wounds on your palms, grimacing at the sight of them once you unfurl your fingers for her. You try to tell her you can deal with them yourself—especially with how much it seems to upset her—but she isn't having it. You see her set her brow and concentrate on cleaning and bandaging the damaged skin, tears only glazing her eyes as you hiss in pain. 

Eventually you convince her that you're fine enough to settle down on the couch and watch a movie. She insists on having you in her lap—something that you find equally as comforting. Stina isn't typically all that tactile, but now each moment apart from you seems to worry her.

You're about halfway into the film and slowly drifting off into her chest when you feel her whisper something into your skin. You think she assumes you're asleep (and you nearly are) but you make out her voice slightly.

"Tack Gud att du är här." She repeats it, and soon you can feel the drops of her tears hitting your shoulder. 

"Stina…" you whisper, repositioning yourself to face her.

"förlåt" she says, wiping her eyes.

"You don't have to be sorry… It was an intense day." You press a kiss to her cheek.

"I was so worried," Stina starts, and you figure it's best not to interrupt her, "when Katie said that you might be struggling, I couldn't think of anything else. You can't hurt yourself anymore, please." Stina takes your bandaged hand.

"If you were gone one day, I don't know how I'd cope." 

"You don't have to worry about that, ever."

"You are the most important thing in my life." Stina's lip trembles, and you wonder how you're managing to keep it together.

You pull her into another kiss, lips sore from how you had abused them earlier. The pain reminds you of the struggle of the day, but Stina's hand holds the depths in front of you at bay.

"I'll always be here." She promises.

You begin to think of something lighter. Of an ounce of forgiveness. Of a year that does not revolve around the rising and setting of the sun on this one day. A moment of peace afforded to yourself. The thought passes your mind—you do not deserve this. You instead think of love.

[requincouche]

I had my 'memento mori' this week, I'm afraid.

I've been feeling quite sick lately, but like a different sick from usual. No runny nose, no typical tummy ache, no nausea or bottom issues... Just a pain in my lower tummy that I've never felt before. After a week of doing nothing with it, I visited my GP to ask about it. Of course he suspected appendicitis but ruled it out cus the symptoms didn't fit. After some tests he concluded that I probably have an inguinal hernia... It's really kinda sad, for me. I'm trying to see it in a positive light, but I'll need to get a surgery to repair it, cus it won't go away on its own and it's hurting me all day long. I haven't planned anything yet, cus I'll need to make arrangements for my own care afterwards, as I live on my own, and I have no means of transportation.

The only other time in my life that I had gotten a surgery was to straighten my eyes when I was much younger. Back then, my dad took care of my, afterwards, which I'm really grateful for. But now, my parents are much older and more frail, so I feel like I can no longer ask them. I'm convinced that I'll be fine and it'll just be a few weeks of discomfort, but I am so busy all the time that my activities will need to stop for 1-2 weeks just for me to recover. I think that I will call the hospital department tomorrow to make an appointment. Probably, I'd be able to get my surgery in January. I'm not stressed about such a procedure itself; I'm just a bit anxious about how disruptive it is to my life and my activities. Like, I'll need to assume the worst that there'll be 3 weeks where I can't do anything, otherwise I might disappoint people. And if in reality I'm fully recovered after just a few days, that'd be fine, but that's impossible to predict, right now.

If you dunno what 'memento mori' means, at least what I am alluding to here... See it as follows. When we're young, we live as if we will be around forever. We do crazy things, take risks, and treat ourselves really badly from time to time. When we're young, this is mostly fine. We'll get injured, but our body heals quickly and we even grow a second pair of teeth for in case we've ruined the first pair. But then the healing goes slower and slower, and we don't recover as quickly any more after a crazy night out. Then, maybe if we get older, we realise that we won't live forever, that life is filled with 'firsts' but some of those 'firsts' include disappointments. I'm not calling myself old, by any means, and I don't need your sympathy, but I am realising that I am not young any more. It's ironic to type this out for a littlespace blog. However, this is my blog, and even though I am anonymous, I share a lot of myself here that no one except my close friends know about ^^.

Sorry for this wall of text. Please don't sympathise with me, that's not why I am typing this. I hope that you'll have a lovely day ❤️

[zukkaoru]

"Lay your head on my shoulder and try to sleep." for any ship u feel like! <3

have some uhhh [spins wheel] pre-relationship kunidazai! post-doa arc with a mention of kunikida having hand tremors bc asagiri was a coward to take his hands away and then give them back without any consequences

warnings: referenced bsd-typical violence & guns word count: 1046

.

There was a very logical and predictable series of events that led to Dazai and Kunikida sitting in an otherwise-empty waiting room while Kyouka is in surgery. If Dazai had paused for a second to think things through, it could have even been prevented. But he hadn’t, and Kyouka got shot while out on a case that she was only called in for because Kenji had to make a trip home for a wedding, and Yosano is in Kumamoto on a case with Ranpo because they prefer traveling long distances with her as opposed to any of the other Agency members.

Dazai could have insisted Kunikida go with Ranpo, or he could have gone with Ranpo himself. He could have suggested Atsushi fill in for Kenji rather than Kyouka. He should have warned Kunikida that they guy they were after would have a hidden gun, but he expected Kunikida would figure that out himself. He hadn’t factored in Kunikida devoting more attention to whether or not Kyouka was harmed, since she doesn’t have Kenji’s super strength, because he assumed Demon Snow would work well enough as a bodyguard in Kunikida’s mind. But Demon Snow was fighting another ability user and in the split second Kunikida turned to ensure Kyouka was holding up on her own, their enemy pulled his second gun and fired.

Dazai should have been able to stop it.

Instead, he got a call from a frantic Kunikida, giving no more information than the hospital where they were taking Kyouka and what sounded like the beginnings of a panic attack before Kunikida promptly hung up the phone.

He was pacing around the waiting room when Dazai arrived. He plopped himself into a chair and waited silently, until an hour had passed and Kunikida was still anxiously pacing, at which point Dazai decided it was time to intervene. He managed to coax Kunikida into a chair, but he’s still bouncing his leg and twisting his fingers together and periodically pulling his notebook from his pocket just to mindlessly flip through the pages.

“She’s going to be okay,” Dazai says. He doesn’t know for sure, but he says it like he does because Kunikida always believes him when he speaks with such certainty.

Kunikida sighs deeply. His leg starts bouncing faster. His hands are shaking even worse than usual—something that happens when he’s stressed or anxious. He doesn’t say anything in response, which is unlike him.

Dazai purses his lips. He doesn’t like being expected to comfort people, because he isn’t good at it. He doesn’t understand what is wanted from him, and he always seems to say the wrong words. But seeing Kunikida like this is so unnerving that he has to try something.

“Kunikida-kun,” he says, as gently as he can manage, “worrying won’t help.”

“I know,” Kunikida responds tersely.

“Kyouka-chan would want you to get some rest,” he tries.

Kunikida ignores him.

Dazai is running out of things to say. His eyes roam over Kunikida, searching for another option, and his eyes settle on the loose strands of hair that have fallen from his ponytail. Actions speak louder than words, right?

“Turn your back to me,” Dazai instructs.

Kunikida just looks at him warily.

“C’mon,” Dazai grins. “Don’t you trust me?”

“I do not,” Kunikida tells him, but he turns his back to Dazai anyway. Dazai loosens the hair tie, then pulls it from Kunikida’s hair. Kunikida makes a vaguely disgruntled noise in the back of his throat, but he doesn’t start yelling, so Dazai will take that as a victory.

Dazai runs his fingers through Kunikida’s hair, detangling it as best as he can without a brush or comb. Kunikida’s hair is thin, almost silky despite the bleach and dye hiding his natural hair color. Dazai doesn’t know why he chose to color his hair blonde, but trying to picture Kunikida as a brunet is even worse than questioning his life choices.

Dazai spends longer than necessary just letting the soft strands fall through his fingers, reveling in the feeling of it. It’s a strange sort of vulnerability, requiring far more sacrifice on Kunikida’s part than on Dazai’s. It’s the only sort of intimacy they’re good at.

But Dazai is not the sort of person who can grab hold of nice things and keep them, and Kunikida could never want someone like him. So he gathers Kunikida’s hair into one hand, and ties it back up into its typical style, then draws his hands back towards himself.

Kunikida lets out another sigh, but this one is significantly less stressed. If Dazai didn’t know better, he’d almost say it sounded fond.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

Dazai hums noncommittally. “It’s late,” he notes, because it was past sunset when he got the call and Kyouka���s been in surgery for hours. “You should get some rest.”

Kunikida turns to face him. “What about you?”

“I wasn’t the one on a case this evening,” Dazai points out. “C’mon, just lean your head on my shoulder and try to sleep. I’ve heard human contact helps calm your nerves.”

Kunikida looks skeptical, even though Dazai is about 95% sure that one is true.

“I’ll wake you if they come with news about Kyouka-chan,” Dazai promises.

Kunikida relents. He lays his head on Dazai’s shoulder, and only then does Dazai realize this may have been a very, very, bad idea for him. Because Kunikida is just using him as a pillow, and Kunikida thinks he’s just trying to be a good friend. But Dazai wants something else—something Kunikida will never give him—and now he’s getting a taste of the thing he craves so desperately he’d tear his own heart from his chest in order to get it, knowing it will never be his.

But Kunikida does finally fall asleep, even though he should have no reason to trust Dazai like this. Dazai removes his glasses and sets them on the empty seat beside him. He runs his fingers through Kunikida’s hair once more and whispers a, “Sleep well,” he knows will go unheard.

Dazai wants this to be something he can hold onto forever, but forever is not a thing he is capable of, so he’ll be content with having Kunikida in his arms for just this one moment.

[thelaughtercafe]

Discoveries

Tea Type: Subtly Sweet Tea (Fluff with a sprinkle of mean/mocking teasing)

Potential Triggers: Nothing except suggestive tickling, and speaking of it!

Pairing: Emet-Selch/Reader, eventually Ascians/Reader

Length: 935

Summary: A tickle fic with the Ascians because I couldn’t help myself. Reader is Azem, but they’ll go unnamed. Each Ascian will get their own oneshot, so far it’ll be Emet, Lahabrea, Elidibus and Fandaniel and then I may have a timeskip to an Emet/WoL scene, in the future. I am now caught up with Endwalker but wasn't at the time so apologies if anyone seems ooc. I may rewrite it later on to update it.

“You put in quite a peculiar request at the Bureau of the Architect, I hear.”

You whirled to glare at Elidibus before averting your eyes dismissively, already on the defensive from where you had once been enjoying your afternoon tea in peace.

“Oh? And how would you know such information? All creation matrix are to be private unless otherwise allowed by the creator.”

“Oh come now. You needn’t be so shy. I think it’s adorable .”

Despite the seemingly kind words, they were biting and mocking, thick with judgement.

You opened your mouth hesitantly, trying to think of what to say next when a smooth voice interrupted.

“That’s quite enough mockery Elidibus; I do believe one of Lahabrea’s pets has gotten loose and is seeking to devour the other. A tragedy, to be sure.”

You heard Elidibus scoff before he left without so much as a nod at Emet-Selch. Said Ascian shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.

“Such discourse. Tsk tsk. Very unfitting of the Emissary in our ranks don’t you think?”

“You didn’t have to protect me. I could’ve handled him, really.”

Your voice was soft, but only out of anxiety. Emet-Selch was typically the one person you didn’t have to be anxious with, but given he stood up for you that meant he knew exactly what you were being taunted for.

“Please just tell me no-one else knows. Please.”

A beat of silence and you heard him sigh as he joined you on the couch, creating a cup for himself as well.

“…No-one else save the 3 of us are aware, to my knowledge. I already erased it from the records. But; I feel I have the right to ask.”

You knew he would. You tensed expectantly, eyes locked on the now empty saucer and cup on your table.

“…We’re both adults Emet. Please, for all of creation, don’t make me say it aloud. I’m mortified enough as it is.”

“Elidibus is wrong about a lot of things. He wasn’t about this.”

That made you look at him in shock. His eyes and voice were both too gentle to be lying.

“You talked about it together?!”

He nodded, smiling ever so slightly at your shock.

“He meant what he said, you know. His tone came out as such because he was both nervous, and slightly annoyed you weren’t looking at him. I can read the man like a book by now. He knew he messed up which is why he fled. He was blushing darker than you are right now as I pointed out what he was doing. It really is adorable.”

The mischief you were worried about seeing from him jumped out as he tried to clamp down on the grin tugging at his lips.

“If you wanted to be tickled all you had to do was ask, you know. Either of us would’ve been happy to. Lahabrea too.”

You gave him a deadpan look at Lahabrea’s name and he snickered.

“Lahabrea had better not know about this. He’d never let me live it down.”

“Oh come now I’m sure he wouldn’t mind!”

Emet-Selch chirped way too happily for your liking and you groaned.

“…He already knows, doesn’t he?”

He smiled, unflinchingly.

“I may have caught him getting a glance at the book before I could get rid of the evidence so in all likelihood yes, especially given the grin that lit up his face.”

“Kill me now.”

You let your body roll to the side so you could rest against him, hiding your blushing face in his robe.

“I’m fairly certain he’ll take care of it for you ere long. Knowing him, he’ll likely corner you once he has a plan in mind. My assumption is he’ll pretend he doesn’t know until you accuse him yourself.  You know how he is, always keeping the ace in his pocket.”

You risked a glance at him, slightly amused as you began to relax thanks to his nonchalance.

“…Any chance we can teleport him elsewhere for an impromptu vacation? Or maybe you feel like helping me get something embarrassing about him in turn?”

He chuckled at that, shaking his head as he looked down at you from the corner of his eye.

“Sure. I could . But I assure you wielding such information against him would only serve to set him on the warpath against you, and if you think him cruel now in his machinations what he next inflicts will make the prior child’s play in comparison. He may not show it; but he does actually like you, as all in the Covenant do. He just shows it in the most obnoxious way conceivable.”

Emet’s grin turned sharp suddenly.

“Forget tickle machines - I’m quite sure literal tickle monsters would be much harder to contend with, combat prowess or no.”

You tensed up as he brought it up explicitly, pulling back to pout at him.

“Why do you have to say it? You know how flustered I get. Mean.”

He snickered at that before shrugging.

“Not my fault you make it so easy. I propose an idea. Why not choose between the 3 of us? That way you at least won’t be ambushed out of the blue.”

You reeled back in shock at that.

“Who-Who said they’d even want to? Or that you would for that matter?!”

He rolled his eyes and huffed in annoyance.

“I assure you; I do, as do they. And even should they change their mind, they may decline when we gather to tell them your choice.”

His eyes twinkled in amusement, and he patted your cheek patronizingly.

“Do choose wisely.”

[melkyt]

Serial Killer Durgetash AU, - Contains Canon Typical Violence.

Gortash as the overworked college student getting an engineering robotics degree while working a job or two. He is stressed, depressed and well dressed.

One of his favorite things to do is learning about true crime whenever he is doing anything, usually listening to it while he goes from work to school and back again.

This man does not drive, even if he has a license. This man can not afford a car, so he uses his college given bus pass to travel around the city, which goes into some unsavory neighborhoods. Considering he grew up in the area, he is not worried about getting into trouble even at night. This is his city, and one day, he will be in charge of it.

That is why Gortash finds himself wandering the street after a late shift, headphones in and oblivious to the world. Listening to a podcast about a killer that is active, not quite registering that they are in his city and that dark-haired college students are the killers type. *wink*

Gortash too tired to register that he took the wrong turn on his usual path and turns down into an alleyway far from any semblance of civilization, only to see a person holding a bloddy dripping knife over a crying man.

Now he is not a stranger to death or violence, so it doesnt wuite phase him. He looks arouns, takes off his headphones and goes "Sorry my mistake, continue" Turns around and leaves.

Durge is immediately fascinated at such a nonchalant reaction. They have been discovered before but they always screamed or froze. They always enjoyed chasing them down to watch them beg for their lives. Never has one just shrugged and moved. They cant leave the current victim, not being done with the carving of the body. Yet they memorize everything they can about the stranger, from what little they saw in the dark.

Durge wanders the area until they saw Gortash stumbling home, them stalking him with the eager determination of a predator, showing up at college or at his work, learning his routine, and getting absolutely obsessed with the man.

They decide to play with Gortash, making the man paranoid as they stalk him everywhere, getting close enough to touch only to dissapear when he tries to look for the source in the crowd.

Gortash is always aware he is being watched, that his home is not safe as Durge starts to leave him little souvenirs or money. Something that he desperately needs but feels anxious about taking.

When Gortash is an absolute mental wreck, Durge making their move, breaking into his apartment and waiting for him to come back, setting up a little horror game that they have been itching to play.

Durge expecting Gortash to run, hide through out the apartment complex and play along eith the hunt.

Gortash is way too tired to deal with all that. He has not exercised once in his life, and he is not about to start now by running from the athletic creature that is durge. "Kill me if you want, but get it over with," He huffs "Otherwise I have a test to study for" Trying to sound as though he is not afraid of being killed and forgotten in this dead-end apartment

Durge disappointed as they dont want Grotash to just be chill with it. They thought that they had pushed him to the edge of breaking. Though they do notice that their is a tremor to his voice, they know that they are getting to him.

They decide that it is more effort than its worth to get him. There are actual targets that they have to take out. Enough of acting on their whims, so they leave.

Gortash, so used to having them watch him, starts to miss it. So, on his usual walk, he decides to go to the alleyway where they save each other that first night. He doesn't know what he is looking for, or even why. Something about Durge felt like a familiar comfort, a foolish thought, but one Gortash can't shake.

As he wanders, he runs into a group doing some illegal 'nobody can know' type of deal. He tries to talk his way out of it but gets a thrashing, broken nose and a few broken ribs, but he manages to survive as something interrupted them. He makes it to a hospital, cursing himself for being an idiot and ending up in more debt.

Durge gets wind of this, tracka down those that hurt Gortash, kills them and takes their heads just so when they go to visit Gortash, they can have another souvenir go present to the object of their obsession.

Gortash is equal parts impressed and disgusted that they mamaged to sneak in with the heads into the hospital and says that he would have much preferred money. Durge nods and casually says they will pay everything if Gortash agrees to be theirs.

Gortash scoffs and refuses, that is, until he sees the bill. There is more money that he will ever see in his lifetime, even if he lands a great job right out of college. Reluctantly, he agrees, deciding that he can figure a way to get out of it later.

Durge, taking him home to the very outskirts of the city, showing Gortash the mansion and all its pleasures and then just leaving him alone.

Gortash very confused at why they did all this, then left him to his own devices for weeks while he recovered and focused on keeping up with his college classes.

Durge coming back worse fo wear, a cut lip and a black eye. Gortash thinks a kill went wrong, but Durge tells him no, instead that their Father disagreed with allowing Gortash to live and letting him live in the mansion, but its fine now.

Gortash expecting some sort of favors he will have to carry out, sexual or otherwise only for Durge just come in at very random times of the day to take a shower and get clean clothes as theirs are always bloodsoaked. Them judt lounge around with Gortash and ask him about his life. There's nothing like the killer or stalker Gortash had gotten used to. Durge feeling more like a big house cat that marches to their own drum and likes to cuddle.

Life is peaceful, and he settles in to lviing the goodlife for once. Even if it is with a person that is reasonably dangerous and could turn at any moment, he still feels safe.

[skylarstark4826]

“If you are my friend, help me, to leave you. Or if you are my lover, help me, so I can be healed of you. If I knew, that the ocean is very deep, I would not have swam. If I knew, how I would end, I would not have began.” - Letter from Under the Sea, Nizar Qabbani

Shuri had stopped believing in the ancestral plane. Also, maybe in some part, the ancestors. Maybe because she’d been jealous. Jealous when her mother or Okoye spoke about how they'd heard or seen or felt T’Challa. While she had not. So she chalked it up to it not being real. They were consoling themselves which was normal and expected, but the ancestral plane wasn’t real. Otherwise, why would he come to them and not to her?

She remembered waking up from her journey after drinking the Heart Shaped Herb and thinking that she’d wasted it. In her anger. In her sorrow. She’d wasted it. She wished to see her brother the most. But, as tales of old tell, the journey to the ancestral realm does not show you the ancestor you want to see, but the ancestor you need to see. She felt now that perhaps she wasn’t meant to see Killmonger because she had to listen to him, but so that she could see how destructive and volatile her rage could be. To disobey instead. Or maybe not. She didn’t really know. Even now.

It had been months after Wakanda’s battle with Talokan. After her battle with Namor. She wasn’t entirely sure why she stopped at the end of the fight. When she’d been so close. It felt bad to admit, but she still wanted…someone to hurt alongside her. Even after staying with Nakia. Even after taking a break. Even after burning her funeral garments. Even after doing all the things she was supposed to do. She was still angry. Perhaps she would always be angry. Perhaps that was the answer she was looking for. She hated not having the answers. So, as she had been for the past several months, she tried to think of an answer on her way back to Wakanda.

She knew she’d have to go back. She was the queen now. Sometimes she thought about not being queen. Just letting that go. She never thought about ruling Wakanda before all this. Not even once. In theory, she was never supposed to. It was always supposed to be him. Just like he was supposed to be the Black Panther. She was that now too. Still, as much as she thought about letting it go, she felt she couldn’t. She could take a break, but at the end of the day, it was her responsibility. Her nation. She was its protector and she had to guide it.

Either way, she entered her lab first thing upon returning home. Everything else was hollow, but her lab still felt like it was hers. Ross was there, waiting. The man stood with his hands folded in front of him, but instantly began to approach as soon as she arrived.

“Awesome. I knew you were getting back today. Listen, have you seen the news lately?”

“I just walked in the door.”

“Well, you do rule a nation now Shuri. And this is a little important. ”

He was a funny man. Always a bit on edge, matter of fact in a hesitant sort of way, typically a few steps behind but useful when he wasn’t. He tilted his head and raised an eyebrow as she walked past him, checking her devices instead. She hadn’t shut him down yet and thus he took that as his sign that he could chuckle awkwardly and carry on.

“If you have watched it you’d know that America is pissed.”

“Aren’t they always?”

“Historically yes, but right now they are pissed at you. Well, Wakanda, but the point is they’re after you guys. A-And they’re not gonna stop. And since they blame you for the mining ship thing, other nations will probably be on their side a-”

His anxious tirade was cut off by another entrance into her lab. How she had naively hoped she might be alone here. Just until she could get settled enough to go to the throne room and start business. Now that she was back in Wakanda, business followed her. M’Baku interrupted Ross’ speech with a scoff and a playfully accusatory finger pointed in the man’s direction.

“Eh, you told me you would not intercept her! This is what happens when you trust the White man. Princess- Or- …Shuri, what has this man told you?”

Shuri sighed, massaging her temples, knowing all these conversations were important, but she hadn’t even been able to gain her bearings. She hopped up onto a table and swung her legs back and forth. What he had told her was that things were about as bad as she expected. She knew things would be bad. Sometimes, as much as she missed T’Challa, she resented him too. Resented him for telling the world about Wakanda. Maybe the way they did things before was wrong too though. Letting all those people out there like them be subjugated and crushed under the weight of colonialism when they could’ve helped those nations centuries ago. Perhaps this was their judgment for that. As far as she could see, Wakanda had not a true friend in the world. Alone. 

“Told me that the American government is less than happy with us. Which I expected. I expect we will have to patrol for them and keep on our toes.”

“I agree. Though The Council and I…and Ross were thinking we might want to be more prepared. For bad things. Now I am not saying I doubt Wakanda’s strength, especially against their "technology”, but it is always better to be a few steps ahead.”

Not this. Not now. She could hear how M’Baku’s typically high energy and talkative tone began to slow and become more tranquil as he trailed off. Shuri was highly intelligent, that was kind of her thing. She could read between the lines. She just… Ross cleared his throat and rocked back and forth before finishing the thought that didn’t really need the extra help.

“We think you should meet with Talokan. With this Namor.”

“I figured as much. Just…let me get settled first and I’ll…try to summon Namor.”

M’Baku nodded dramatically, walking over to Ross and throwing his arm around the man’s shoulder enough to shake his balance. They started for the door as M’Baku rounded off the conversation.

“Right right. All the other reports from when you were away are already uploaded and when you want to leave you should contact Okoye-”

“I’ll go alone. I’m the Black Panther now, remember?”

Then she was alone. 

But now her head was more crowded than before. In all fairness, she never really stopped thinking, but sometimes it could get too crowded. Too much at once. Everything she was already thinking of and now Namor. That was the only thing that she was supposed to do and hadn’t done. She hadn’t seen nor spoken to the man since their battle and their truce. Since she dragged him into the ocean with a hole in her own abdomen. Since they agreed to be as pleasant to each other as the events that got them there would allow. It would’ve been the logical and responsible thing to meet and discuss more formal terms of being allies or…something before the nation actually needed something. She hadn’t wanted to see him. She’d been angry before, but never as much as she had been during their fight and it frightened her. So she hadn’t wanted to see the person that made her like that. It didn’t matter regardless. She was always angry. 

That day, she’d felt like herself and not. The day she almost killed him and started a much bigger issue with Talokan. It was odd that way. Her mother’s call had stopped her, but that was because it was her mother. Not because it was who she was. Shuri wasn’t…all too sure who she was anymore. She stared at the bracelet that had helped her figure all this out. Left in her lab all this time. Sometimes she wondered if he knew she’d be able to do what she’d done with it. Of course not. Otherwise, it would still be with him. As she looked at it and counted the beads despite knowing by heart how many there were, she noticed. Her mind was quiet. 

The water was almost pretty. Pretty when she just took it for what it was. Water. Not so much when she thought about what, who , was in it. She held the shell so tightly the entire way there. She hadn’t even realized it until she stopped in the sands, no one around, and readjusted her grip in preparation to use it and felt her knuckles ache at the release of tension. She didn’t know how she would feel upon seeing him. She assumed the hatred would come rising back up, and as she brought the shell to her lips she was afraid. Not of him, she had beaten him in a fight and almost killed him after all, but afraid to be like that again. To feel the way she felt during battle. For Wakanda, she could put herself aside. Always.

She stood idly, watching the sun slowly begin its descent as the day drew to a close. It was taking longer than anticipated. It was entirely possible that he would not come at all. That he might ignore her. That their treaty meant they’d leave each other alone, but they wouldn’t be allies. She turned away from the water, shaking her head.

“You are impatient.”

Upon hearing his voice, nothing struck her. Not anger, not fear, not sorrow. Quite the opposite. She didn’t feel anything like a jab or a pull or something tightening. Instead, she felt the generally permanent tension in her body slide away from her. Relief. She was relieved. Why? She turned at the sound of the water’s disturbance and there he stood, water up to his knees, as regal as ever. He seemed neutral in his expression, but she could’ve just been hoping he wasn’t too upset so they could talk. 

“I know how fast you are. I assumed you were ignoring me.”

“I was considering it, but here I am.”

“Yes. I wanted to finally talk about more formal terms of our truce. It was the baseline. It needs more.”

“I see. How fair and logical. Very like you.”

Shuri walked closer to the water while Namor exited it further. She looked down at his ankles, still obscured by the water. She wondered about his wing, but it would be bad form to ask. She was the cause of the injury after all. She tapped the shell with her index finger, not knowing how to ask without sounding demanding. Or weak. She didn’t want to come to him for anything. Yet, this was the calmest she’d felt in a while. Even with her mind still racing. As it always did.

“Ah. Something troubles you.”

Not the best opener, but she’d take it since he offered it. He seemed genuine in his calmness. She didn’t quite get it. Though, she didn’t understand her own either.

“The United States government is moving with attempts to destabilize Wakanda. I was wondering if we could count on Talokan. If need be.”

When her eyes met his, he didn’t really seem to be thinking about what she’d just said. He was just…watching. Watching her. What he was looking for, she couldn’t decipher. His eyes trailed lower and lower until they stopped. She was puzzled for only a second before lifting her arm and untying the bracelet from her wrist.

“I brought it to return to you. I’m sure you were missing it.”

He reached and took it from her, but when she went to lower her arm, he held it up to her. As an offer. Far more intentional than the first time it was given to her.

“It was a token of the hope that we could work together. Which we very well still might. It is still yours. Here.”

He tied it back onto her wrist and she furrowed her brows in confusion, shaking her head. She didn’t get it. Was he not upset with her? She was upset with him. He’d taken all she had left. She couldn’t feel it right now, but she knew it was there. Every time he wasn’t in front of her and she thought of him she could feel it with ease. Did he not?

“I expected you to be angrier.”

“Me too. I respect you though. You are a good ruler as I am. It was all fair.”

“Was killing my mother fair to you?”

“I do regret what it led to, but I promised her what I would do. I haven't broken a promise ever. I don't plan to. She died a noble death. She was a noble woman."

She scoffed and chuckled ruefully. She could tell he wasn't trying to push her buttons. Everything he said was just what he believed. 

"Whatever. That's not what this is about. Will you be there if we need it?"

"Of course. My people aren't bitter either if you're wondering. Bothered, yes. But we understand that sometimes this is just the way of things."

"...Good. That was all. Hopefully, I won't need to see you."

She turned to walk away but there was the sound of the water sloshing behind her. He called out.

"Wait. I have something I need to ask you."

"...What is it?"

"Why do you hesitate? Now that you know what I've said about the nations here on the surface world is true. I can see your rage. It's still there."

She sighed because she had thought about it. It was one of the many things still on her mind. She was holding it back. She didn't want the world to suffer. She kept telling herself that over and over. She knew they wouldn't stop. That they wanted to hurt them and consume them the way they'd done other nations. Wakanda had not a friend in the world. Untrue. One. One friend.

"You don't get to tell me what I feel."

The sound of the water had gone back to the constant waves. She could feel him behind her even though he wasn't touching her. 

"No. I suppose not. I know how I feel. I still feel hatred for the surface. I still feel determined to destroy it. I still feel that we need Wakanda's help to do that. That is what I feel. Now you tell me if you feel the same."

She hadn’t even noticed how close he was until she turned her head to see that he was right behind her, their faces separated by the smallest distance. She thought about T’Challa. About everyone else. What they would say. What they would do. What they thought was best for Wakanda. Then she cleared them from her mind and thought about what she would do instead. Not T’Challa. Not Killmonger. Not Mother. Not Father. Shuri. What would she do? How would she care for Wakanda? Namor circled around to stand in front of her in her moment of hesitation and she looked down at the sand and the shell still in her hands. She hoped she might find the answer she was looking for in a grain of sand. She shivered when something cold touched her chin, dropping the shell in surprise. Cold and wet. A hand. His hand held her chin and gently tilted her head up.

“It’s a yes or no question, Queen Shuri.”

No one had called her that yet. People were still in the habit of calling her princess or just using her name. It still felt strange to everyone else. When he said it, it sounded as natural as the way he soared through the air. She thought she would hate hearing people call her that, but the sound of it from his lips caressed her ears and tempted her pride. She knew her answer, but what would everyone think if they could hear it?

“Yes. I do.”

“Then why don’t we?”

Shuri raised her hand to his wrist to pull his hand away, but it just rested on his wrist instead. A loose grip. Hardly a grip at all. His hand slid to her cheek, fingertips brushing her ear, thumb hovering just above her bottom lip. It sounded so enticing. The thing that made it worse was the way he wasn’t trying too hard to sell it to her. To convince her. He didn’t need to. He must’ve known that. Perhaps it would be what she needed. To placate her vexation. She inhaled slowly and could smell the salt from his skin as she stepped a little closer. Though there wasn’t much closer they could be before they would touch. She felt like she was barely balancing on the edge of a cliff, rocking, and swaying, waiting for that one gentle wind to come by and knock her over the side. She didn’t know what would be waiting for her at the bottom of the cliff. Rocks, icy water, a current, nothingness.

“Because it’s wrong, Namor.”

“My enemies call me Namor. Please, if we’re at least allies now. Even if you recite things others tell you instead of what you’d rather say.”

Her mind was tranquil. Her thoughts were ordered and graceful. She felt so focused when he talked to her. It was the center of her focus that gave cause for concern. She could almost feel her heart fluttering. She’d already admitted what she felt. So why didn’t she? She took another step forward and there was no space left. She could feel the stray water droplets from his skin latch onto her clothes and retreat into the fabric. She didn’t feel conflicted when she only thought of what was the right thing to do now. Not what would’ve been the right thing before or to someone else. His eyes held no judgment. Only patience.

“...K’uk’ulkan. If I take the fight to them, will you help me?”

“Naturally.”

“Do you promise?”

He smiled and there was even the softest hint of laughter chasing right behind it. His thumb tugged at her lower lip gingerly as he hummed in what seemed to be contemplation. Every time she thought on him, she felt detestation. Now that he was in front of her it didn’t feel so simple. It was that same way, but only for a split second when she’d pulled him back into the ocean after their battle. Respect? Admiration? Did she feel safe in the sense of being able to relate to him? Even now as the feeling seemed to be drowning her, stealing her breath, accelerating her heart rate, making her hands unsteady, she couldn’t place it.

“I promise you, Your Majesty. Would you like to seal it?”

Oh.

He looked at her mouth after his last sentence and back at her. She’d answered question after question with less and less room for thought between each one. Yet, her mind became more and more clear.

“Yes.”

So they did. The first kiss was chaste and cautious, but there was another. And another. And another. Each one longer than the last. In that particular moment, she felt nothing in the way of uncertainty or fury. She’d wanted him to kiss her, but she still didn’t know what it was she might call the mysterious emotion that had filled her lungs. Whatever it was, she’d be fine to drown in it. 

“Love is an anguish, a question, a luminous doubt suspended. It is a desire to know the whole of you and a fear of finally knowing it." - Love is an Anguish, Xavier Villaurruita

[luchicm04]

lost in the forest - part 22

Masterlist

Summary: A formal meeting is called upon and Karen comes face to face with her guests' long lasting enemies.

Pairing: Senju Tobirama/Original Female Character

Tag: #lost in the forest fic

posted on ao3

Word Count: 3.1k

So, as some might've noticed, I changed the title of the fic because I realized that accent in the original title was a mistake. The author probably made an error and mistook the words 'pérdida' and 'perdida', meaning loss and lost, respectively.

Also, there are many errors like that during all the fic, so that's why I trying to be careful when translating. Otherwise, many sentences would make no sense and the story would lose its charm. I bet that's happened to more than one who has read a google-translated fic.

I remind you that English is just my second language, not my mother language. If there are any mistakes in the words, pls notify me so I can change it.

Overall warnings: canon-typical violence, adult content, time skips, angst, kidnapping

A demure white yukata with a delicate braided hairstyle that highlights her foreign features. The clothing is completely different from all the ones she has owned since she began participating in the affairs of this clan, simple and modest that radiates the main plan they are about to sign before the eyes of the nobles and lords of these lands. 

Karen feels out of place, but there she is, looking up at the exit door where she can notice a Hashirama talking to the insurance council giving warnings to eb careful, a common thing for fear that this is a trap. 

Nobody believes that it is that simple to formalize peace, which makes her sigh. 

“Be very careful.” Mikami has gone to see her off with a sleeping Matsuo. Her eyes are fearful. 

“I’ll be fine, I’ll just be a witness,” she says with the excitement of being out for the second time... she has a nasty taste in her mouth about it, but she thinks it’s too positive to think it will be different. Karen has faith in it. 

“Are you sure?” 

“I’ll go alone with Tobirama and Hashirama,” she reminds her friend in an attempt to divert her own fear. She gives a needed hug almost waking up the kid. “Remember that I’ll be back soon... for Matsuo-kun's future, right?” 

“Fine.” She looks doubtful but accepts. “Tobirama-sama,” she greets the austere young man who blinks slower than usual in their direction to accept the greeting with slight seconds of distance. 

“Are you ready?” Oblivious and firm, the leader’s brother comments, accepting the greeting while Mikami leaves with a slow stammering, more so because the child began to cry and there are many people around anxious about this income.  

“Yes,” she sighs, looking at her own clothes. Just like her, he is wearing something simple in white colors. “I guess transportation for me is too much to ask, right?” 

“We do not have time to waste... on your type of transportation,” he frowns with the ‘you’re stupid’ to which she doesn’t retaliate. 

“I was hoping you had some kind of carriage,” she sighs, disappointed with the type of response she gets. “Tamamo-san, Jenshi-san,” she greets two of the councilors who approach. 

“Greetings, young Karen-san... Tobirama-sama. Can we talk?” He asks her partner, who raises his eyebrow firmly. 

“You already talked to Hashirama, you do not have to talk to me,” he says, noticing that there is some tension in this regard. She supposes these are things that remain after several days of internal hostility for what peace meant. 

Letting the death of others be in vain, according to them. 

“Yes, but we would like to cover some topics with you,” Tamamo comments with an arch, looking at her. “If you would excuse us.” 

“Alright... I’ll go with Hashirama.” Karen is almost about to leave but her head is slightly stopped by a rough movement from her partner, with those firm red eyes that she doesn’t dare move. 

“As I told you, you already spoke with Hashirama,” he comments more seriously than normal looking at the two elderly people who look irritated. “The war will end with this. A step forward for the future.” 

“You know what we think about it.” Jenshi looks annoyed, but lets out some venom, not caring if she listens. She looks at Tobirama with slight doubt, without letting her go completely. What does he want her to do? It’s not like she can do anything. 

“The blood has already been spilled. It is not necessary for new generations to grow up with a war whose beginning we do not understand,” Tobirama replies in his own way what she already said before, which surprises her, and she does not avoid looking at him with her eyes slightly open. “Is that not right, Karen?” 

“War has always been this complicated, for those who do not forget, for those who lost a lot... leaving all that behind so that the future is promising is difficult,” the civilian states, doubtfully adding to this conversation in which she did not want to participate. She hates her position, but she clings to her spot despite the bad faces of the elders. “But that does not mean it is impossible,” she sighs slightly. “Trust Hashirama, with the fact that achieving this has been a success.” 

“A civilian would not understand,” one of the elders responds bitterly and confidently. 

“A civilian who knows about wars,” Tobirama adds without missing a beat. 

Karen remains in her place without knowing what else to add in this peak of severe wills. She gulps, staying put out of pride and foolishness. She has the need to run, which itches down her back... however, there she is, in the middle of three men who could easily kill her and throw away her body. 

Ironic. Where are her self-preservation instincts? …ah yes, she forgot about that for a long time. 

“I just hope this does not turn out worse, that those Uchihas do not bite our hand,” Jenshin spits arrogantly, as if that clan wasn’t more important than them... a different class. 

“They are shinobi, humans like all of us. I am sure they have also given in to this because they have lost a lot too, right? So, do not discredit that.” Karen is a little bitter about the way he said it. This is how internal conflicts start. “And I would like to make something clear... when the council begins to plan something behind the leader’s back, I assure you that it will be the certain fall of its power.” 

“A threat?” Tamamo frowns. 

“I am a civilian. I cannot threaten but indicate what I know from the experience of other nations,” Karen raises her gaze. “And it would be sad if the Senju clan became lost due to your own arrogance... due to your own pride in leaving things behind to work together for a better future, something that both Hashirama and Tobirama have worked so hard for. Do not make it ruin itself just because a few do not want to leave the past, to build a future without stopping learning from it.” 

The two old men look at each other and then turn around without any comment. Tobirama doesn’t say anything. 

“I think they both no longer want their grandchildren to propose to me,” she says sarcastically, without a hint of joy. 

“Did you want to marry them?” 

“It’s sarcasm,” she sighs as she rolls her eyes, because the joke is lost on its own. 

“...” The albino looks at her for a long time. 

“Ask away,” she insists before the silence between them. 

“Is what you said true?” 

“What part?” 

“About... the fall of nations?” 

“Somewhat,” she explains with a light sigh. “But I think it can be worked on. If it’s achieved, this will be an advance for the future.” 

“You sound so confident.” 

“I have seen you work. Although stupid and difficult to understand, you have a good head... you are born leaders.” 

“You do not fall behind.” 

“Even if I’m a civilian?” The woman mocks. 

“Even if you are,” he quickly accepts, without noticing the tone implied. Seriously, this man cannot take anything as a joke. 

“Alright, it’s time to go,” Hashirama interrupts them when he looks at them with amused doubt. “Well?” 

“Nothing is wrong,” his brother assures coldly. Karen feels she’s missing something and doubts seeing a strange gesture in the always shining man, that she falters when she’s swiftly carried as a princess. 

“Warn before!” She complains when she is accommodated. Karen frowns at the distant man who ignores her, not avoiding screaming from the excitement of the speed of this technique. She closes her eyes and clings to the yukata with a chaotic thought of doing something about the transportation system. 

This is not suitable for everyone. 

She has vertigo. 

──

The nobles are notable and now she sees why many doubt the invented title that Hashirama himself said when introducing her. The Fire Daimyo looks interested, with a pensative gesture. “Shinji-sama,” Karen says with neat etiquette reviewed by an ephemeral Mikami, who insisted on explaining to her in detail the type of environment that she would be surrounded with. 

These nobles, as witnesses of this important step between chinobi clans, are an important piece to formalize the pact. 

“Karen-san... strange name,” the man assures with a curious glow. 

“Yes, a curious name,” the woman accepts without missing a beat. The place is spacious, with light traditional monuments and well-kept gardens. As they explained to her, it is one of the many houses of the young lord of these lands, located at some neutral point of the two shinobi families. 

An agreement that they managed to obtain after so much push and pull. 

“Do you have a last name? ...or your father’s name.” 

“Huh?” 

“You know, the house you belong to.” 

“Ah,” she sees the point that she frankly missed, which makes her think about it. “Saucedo.” 

“Sarucedo?” 

“No, it is pronounced Saucedo,” she sighs at the error of her own town. The man blinks to laugh. 

“It is not from around here.” 

“No... it is not,” she states strangely. Karen had spent a long time without mentioning her last name, something that was lost among all the drama that has happened since her arrival. 

“It sounds important.” 

“Oh... well.” 

“Hashirama says that you are a prominent noble. I mean, to be so hand in hand and get both clans to take a step for this.” 

“He gave me a lot of credit.” 

“It is remarkable. Do not discredit your work out of modesty,” the man says with a flirtatious smile. “So, do not despite yourself.” 

“I do not, it is just that... well, many of the pacts and contacts were made by them, I only helped with some things.” 

“Even so,” the nobleman gives her a discreet gesture. His clothes up close look soft, expensive and quite decorated, differentiating themselves from them, who come in white clothes. “I am surprised that a noble like you, being a civilian, would still help them. A notable step for the Saucedo house.” 

“Uh...” She doesn’t know what to say because of the formality, it sounds different. “It is a step... that it had to do to achieve this... for its future.” 

“You have a point. However, many do not take the time to do this, you know?” 

“I imagine. You are all busy people.” 

“I am not just saying this because of the time. Girls do not do this,” he points out amusingly. “But that makes the flower more interesting, you know?” He takes a step forward. “One that I would like to add to my harem,” the man says direct and sure of what he wants, almost making her cough loudly, but she holds back for seconds and smiles with an uncertain shine. 

“I am sorry to hear that, but the Saucedo house is in disgrace. I do not think my father is looking for any kind of outside help at the moment, it is not customary,” she quickly invents, letting herself be carried away by her lie. 

“Are you sure? ...I can give a dowry for adding you.” 

“Not at all. We do not manage ourselves by dowry, but by the ability of the child.” 

“You are skilled. You would be a very good woman in my domains, and I assure you the Saucedo house will greatly improve its status by relating to the Shinji house, of the Fire Daimyo.” 

Finding herself in trouble, Karen sighs. “I apologize... I appreciate the gesture, but the truth is... this is more complicated than I want to explain.” 

“Oh, I see.” The man looks understanding. She doesn’t know what kind of story is drawn in his mind, as if he understood why a noblewoman stays with the shinobi. “Whatever you wish. If you accept and are not defiled by any of them,” he says with a slightly contemptuous tone towards the shinobis. “I would like you to consider me,” he adds smiling. 

Karen wants to leave already... she wants to hit this man, but thank all the gods, the missing clan arrived. 

The Uchihas are more imposing and wilder than the Senju family, she is sure of it when she sees their leader, whose mane is abnormally spiked and explosive, along with another young man with a dead look. Both look at each other to go where the Senju were waiting with their flag. 

The beginning of this formality. 

──

Peace is a difficult thing to reach, maintain and manage... which she can notice upon approaching as one of the not-so-neutral witnesses. Karen is glad to be away from the gaze of a terrible Daimyo, who continues to insist that her family must consider marrying her. 

Hashirama looks worried but has placed her next to him with a worried gesture. “Are you alright?” He questions in English noticing how Mr. Shinji now is with the leader of the Uchiha clan. 

“Yes,” she answers with a sigh. “I just finished tightening the rope on the figurative neck with your ‘noble’ lie... you know?” She huffs tired of socializing so much. She sees the man’s doubt, that is clearly reflected in his face. “Apparently, I am a noblewoman from the Saucedo house, that is in disgrace. Don’t ask why... the point is that the man thinks that adding me as a concubine will fix this.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah... but don’t worry, I invented other things about my family and why my father can’t talk to him,” she points out, proud of getting at least a little out of this mess. 

“I’m sorry I left you with him.” 

“You have better things to deal with,” the woman dismisses to look around. “He looks imposing... more than Mikami told me.” 

“Madara?” 

“Yes,” she accepts with a curious look. “Although, I think his hair is to be envied. Just like you, you have lots of it.” 

“Out of everything that happened and the exchange... you are interested in the hair?” Hashirama mocks slightly, less tense than at the start. 

“Of course, it’s remarkable,” she shrugs, not at all guilty. “I’m glad this turned out alright,” she says, looking at the man next to her. “That your dream, or at least a part of it, was achieved.” 

“If you hadn’t been here... I assure you it wouldn’t be possible,” he declares firmly, with an emotional sparkle in his eyes. 

“Not at all. I’m sure you’d manage to do it some way,” the woman declares and then looks at a bitter Tobirama, who doesn’t take his eyes off the other Uchiha. Both look noticeable hostile, but with no intention of throwing the first kunai. “They don’t get along, do they?” 

“They are natural enemies. Unlike Madara and I, they... it’s complicated.” 

“I see,” she sighs to focus again. “Can we go now?” 

Hashirama laughs and then looks at Madara, who stares at them from his place. The Daimyo looks proud for a few seconds, stating again how important this will be for his nation, and how it would trigger more clans to follow their example. 

Making Karen learn that it’s not just the Senjus and the Uchihas in this world. 

A noticeable and fearful thing for the simple civilian, who only lets herself go with the flow. 

Great... right? 

──

The celebration would take place in a week, which has turned the clan into chaos between arrangements, security and more. Karen sighs with a basket of vegetables that she just helped collect, because they are all taken aback in an unprecedented event. The Uchiha clan would come, as part of an important exchange that has everyone anxious. 

To the point that even she has been put to work. 

Tobirama watches her from his spot, organizing some little ones to clean an old room in the main house, catching up with her with a slight frown. “I told you not to participate.” 

“It’s not like I had asked for this,” she sighs, the basket that was too heavy for her taste being snatched away. She huffs embarrassingly for such a careless appearance, but maybe Granma Kaori forgot in her haste that she doesn’t have the same stamina as the other women. 

“You are weak.” 

“Thank you for reminding me...” She snorts indignantly, wanting to take the basket back. “Kaori-san needs them for the stew.” 

“You are weak and clumsy,” the man adds bitterly, rasing said instrument. “As a woman of the Saucedo house, it is not convenient for you.” 

“Are you mocking me?” Karen frowns at the impudence of using her last name in that tone. Tobirama ignores her to snort. 

“There are too many things to do to deal with another bothersome civilian woman.” 

“I am not a bother.” 

“You are.” 

“Are you seriously fighting with me instead of going to organize clan stuff?!” 

The man stops in that passageway that goes to the main house. The garden is a little behind them and there are people coming and going with different activities. “I do not want you to come to the covenant dinner.” 

“Huh?” 

“You do not have to participate. You are not from the clan.” 

“I’m sorry, but I think there is no negotiation in this. Hashirama said it was okay for me to go.” 

“You are a civilian.” 

“Yeah, and?” 

“There will be drinks.” 

“Alright, I see your point,” she bites bitterly, remembering that the last event didn’t go so well. She still feels the sting in her jaw and the anxiety of nightmares at night, which are calmed by knowing that she’s fine for now. “Couldn’t you say it nicer?” 

“You are stubborn.” 

“We both are,” she frowns indignantly to sigh and see that the basket would not be returned. “As part of the nobles, the Daimyo requested for me to be present at this event.” 

“No.” 

“Hashirama must have told you.” 

“It is not negotiable.” 

“Tobirama, I’m not asking,” she frowns. “It’s the peace that’s at stake and I know I’m a fundamental part of it, although I don’t want to witness this going out of context being used for something bad...” 

“...” 

“Mr. Shinji is sure that with me present, you will remember that it is a peace treaty,” she snorts, remembering that annoying favor that Daimyo asked of her. “At least he didn’t send one of his servants or notaries to confirm that this dinner will take place.” 

Tobirama looks upset. “You say Hashirama knew.” 

“Yes, he was present when he gave the warning, along with Madara-san.” 

“Mmmm...” He doesn’t look happy, and he disappears with her basket. She growls because at least she hopes that he remembers where that basket goes, and that Kaori doesn’t scold her for not arriving with said vegetables for the stew. She sighs, not understanding what exactly happened but she’s so tired of pretending she’s not, as she’s been working so hard since dawn. 

She needs a vacation, she’s sure of it. 

A/N: A chapter to say present!! …and that this is opening the way to a certain foundation. As you will see, our dear OC has just invented a whole affair and an important family in disgrace that will bring her many problems as a noblewoman, something that perhaps will explode on her later.

Poor girl.

Still, peace has finally arrived. What will happen next? …that’s a good question, since now they need to organize themselves as an allied clan. The first step is trust and this was demonstrated by the Senju in giving them instructions to go to their clan for dinner, something that was not well received by many of the councilors... but they complied due to the tremendous imposingness of their leader.

Hashirama was firm and fearsome when he instructed that there was no turning back, so they reluctantly accepted. She still doesn’t know the Uchihas that well, our Karen only had a first impression. What will happen?

We will find out soon.

Author-chan out! 

[fox-buried-in-maple-leaves]

soft oc asks 1-16 for eloi please !!

Is your OC a hugger or do they not like that sort of affection? Do they initiate a hug or get roped into them?

Not really a hugger, also hates being hit with surprise affection, activates his fight or flight response. To which, he typically fights. All around bad idea! But if asked he's very affectionate!! he's also quite affectionate in private :) loves loves hugs in private.

Does your OC have any endearing qualities?

His dependability? Very dependable, 10/10. He'll usually get the job done anyways, but for his friends the job is done to the actual best of his ability. And he tends to always show up for them. It's part of why Sabine sought to hire him.

How does your OC react to affectionate gestures?

Surprise affectionate gestures BAD. Otherwise he likes them. He's friends with some very eccentric people, after all. Whilst not being affectionate himself as I mentioned, he's able to take affectionate gestures relatively well in stride.

Forehead kisses or hand kisses?

Forehead kisses :)

Do they like oversized jumpers?

(looks at all of his sweaters)

(looks at you)

yeah<3

What calms they down most when they're anxious?

Painting. But that can also sometimes make him more anxious or agitated, depending on what's going on. So sometimes he'll just very aggressively make food...? why you choppin that onion like that??

What makes them blush?

Artisan is unfortunately really easy to fluster. He is also pale as a tit, as you put. Just say something even remotely nsfw and his face be lookin like a tomato.

What Disney/musical song do you most associate with them?

Nothing from The Asylum for Wayward Victorian Girls musical. Especially in regards to his relationship with his now deceased fiancee.

Animated Fancast?

the answer for this one will always be the same, I don't think abt this.

Your OC is surrounded by puppies/kittens/ducklings. What do they do?

Might tear up idk idk.. So soft.. so cute.. so innocent and unaware of the cruelty of the world... pet pet pet pet pet

Do they talk to their pets?

He doesn't trust himself to have one. But he's very good with Gabriel's dog, Olive. Talks to her a lot :)

What's a childhood memory they cherish most?

Teaching his little brother how to hold a paintbrush properly is one of his most cherished memories

Are they a romantic at heart?

Yes. A little too romantic, even..

What's the most touching gift they've ever received?

A person's love.

What's their favourite item of clothing?

His hair ribbons!! But his black one is most sentimental

What's their most treasured possessions?

Said black ribbon.

Do they have a comfort food? Who makes it best?

Not really, no. A really good cider? But that's usually bought.

How do they cheer up a friend when they're down?

Finger painting, babyyyyy! Or cooking together. Artisan likes to distract the person in question, yk?

What's a guilty pleasure of theirs?

Murder???

Is your character a bookworm?

He looks like it but he honestly only reads when he's bored in bed /sobs... deffo the kind of bitch who stays up way too late reading a 100k slowburn coffee shop au fanfic though.. he's so embarrassing.

Does your character have a particular sweet/candy they love?

Eiffel Apple Bon Bons

Who knows how they like their tea/coffee/(insert drink) best?

BLACK. everyone knows. they think he's pretentious (except for Brimstone, who also drinks black coffee)

Do they like to have a lie in or do rise early?

Artisan likes to get up earlier than he should and just lay there. So both!

Does your OC wrap themselves into a burrito to sleep or do they get tangled in the sheets?

He doesn't like to be restricted, so he doesn't burrito himself, but he only moves a bunch if he has nightmares. in which he wakes up on the floor anyways.

Does your OC like to cuddle their significant other when they sleep? If so, who is the little spoon? Would they admit it if asked?

fucking parasite. worse than venom fr. he doesn't care if he's the big or little spoon though. artisan isn't necessarily embarrassed to admit whether or not he's the little spoon, he j doesn't feel the need to admit to somebody outside of the relationship what he gets up to?? lmao

[rengokugutspill]

Of course following the hormones in association with getting about ready to get my period, I was seeing excessive fatigue for about a week, where I felt like I was just so tired & never got enough sleep. Though I think during that time there were a number of occurrences where shit was waking me up & since I'm someone who typically sleeps twelve hours, getting interrupted sleep fucks me up. Then it shifted into still extreme fatigue but insomnia on top of it, only serving to make me feel more aggressive & volatile because there was no relief in being able to actually sleep. Two days before my period starts I start getting headaches but not quite migraines.

Because I'm still pretty tired, I've flipped my days to waking up before dawn & going to bed in the evening. I went to go to bed yesterday, I feel like I'm so exhausted just because this type of day is very disorienting. I don't think I really take into account when I actually woke up, so when it's evening & I'm getting delirious it does feel a bit confusing & disturbing for me. Even though I think it's both right & appropriate for when I'd actually woken up. & idk, I think I was being pretty active lately during my wake hours.

When I'd laid down, I could clearly feel tired but was having a hard time falling asleep. Tossing & turning, eventually most of the cats going downstairs. Which Burger is out for the most part now outside of meal times, but I still have to close my door when I'm sleeping because Lucifer is back on apparently thinking he's a bat flying around my room. & I do feel so much better having Burger out, even if I do have to close my door sometimes. It feels better than he's free roaming so I know he's not in a room feeling bored & bent out of shape.

I think in the past couple years I started experiencing the sensation of falling asleep. Like nearly watching it in real time as my thoughts start to fade into something incomprehensible. Like, since I usually sleep with a true crime program on, I forget if I've mentioned here before, but I always know when I'm falling asleep cos they'll say they're looking for the criminal on the show & say his name & my sleepy thought is like “oh shit, we gotta find this guy !” & when I start having thoughts like that, I know it's all over for me lmfao or I've had some where I'm at the family barbecue & the criminal shows up lmfao but I do also blame this for occasional bad dreams

I also blame this for why I don't dream about Rengoku more, because I think I can't fabricate a dream about him when the material being fed to me is threatening or otherwise worrisome. Though I had a weird dream he was on some kinda game show where he was gambling on behalf of some kingdom but the gambling was done on some high pedestal thing where everyone was like at a poker or black jack table & he got voted off the show & a trap door opened beneath him & dropped him off the platform & then he just walked away ?? I'd had another one where I went to Japan to collect rare Rengokus & went into some establishment, but things were different from USA so there was this thing where you applied coins to a machine to get a ticket to buy a sandwich & I was really anxious because I didn't understand but Rengoku was there telling me I could do it.

Though I had a really weird & upsetting dream about him the other night that was like a movie dream, it was Rengoku but a different Rengoku & I was not in the dream. This Rengoku was a bit bigger & in a different lifetime, he had a wife & son & the son looked just like Senjuro & the Rengoku was having memories of the Rengoku from Demon Slayer so he kept thinking his son was his brother Senjuro & his son was really concerned that his dad kept forgetting who he was & his wife was worried & making him go to therapy & he was overall despondent & uncomfortable because he didn't understand what was happening & was uncomfortable that he couldn't remember his own life but was having memories of a different life. That dream really bothered me, it was a really worrisome & distressing dream, like a disturbing psychological drama movie that he was in. I did not like it & don't want to have another one like it.

I've also noticed for some weird reason that sleeping during the afternoon creates a higher likelihood for me having sleep paralysis when falling asleep. I've had a lot of really weird ones. & I can usually feel it coming. I'd said this before to my mom & she tried to insist feeling like it was coming on was me just being afraid of it happening & then because I was afraid I ended up willing it to happen. I really don't think that's what it is. I understand we really cannot figure out what is causing sleep paralysis in every case. We have an idea of what causes some cases. I'm a skeptic but a spiritualist, I believe in spirits, ghosts, elementals, energies, interlopers, but I also think most “unexplained” phenomenon actually do have viable & reasonable explanations if you look hard enough. Obviously as someone prone to delusion, it's very important to challenge everything & not accept things wholly at face value or blame fairies or paranormal for everything. The pursuit of knowledge is the pursuit of deeper understanding & vivid clarity in all things. & curiously, spirituality tends to be defined by “what does it feel like to you ?” & a lot of “trusting your gut instincts.” Which again, is hard to really say with delusion prone thinking. Yet I do think that is the most reasonable way to interact with spirituality. It's interesting when looking at psychics because they tend to say they just feel something, yet you put ten in a room & if they're real psychics, most of them will key in on the same thing even without being able to communicate with one another. I know some things are just really hard to explain & are wholly feeling based. I guess to say the third eye or spirit body are in seeing, feeling & interacting with the unseen. A sixth sense you hone. I believe it.

With that being said, I do think something unseen causes my sleep paralysis. I'd had a dream before at my second apartment where I was at the house I lived in for the second half of my childhood, there was a swimming pool & deck in the backyard & there was a voice speaking to me that I guess was my great grandmother maybe & she told me I have periods of nightmares in that apartment because I think it was like thirty years ago (it might have been more idrr) there was a band of dudes who roamed the area committing horrible crimes & causing general unrest & that their spirits still come back on the anniversary of those events to terrorize the same places, so they come into my room at night to terrorize me when I'm dreaming. It was a really interesting dream. In the same dream she had mentioned there is something in my room every night that always watches me & it's neither good nor bad, it's just always there watching me. I guess it must not be human because she didn't say it was a man or a person, she called it a “something.” But I'd imagined it sitting in the chair in my room that used to be at the foot of my bed. Now I have a bedside armchair & I almost imagine that it sits there.

So I ended up having a nightmare last night that scared me so bad. In the dream I was standing in my room & the TV was on. I heard my roommate come home & I'd walked towards the stairs but the stairway was different in my dream, it was a switch back staircase. I met them on the landing & we'd gone downstairs. From there it was pretty accurate to real life, they'd gone into the livingroom & I went into the kitchen, the rooms are connected by a large archway, so each looks into the other. As I was walking into the kitchen, I started to feel like I was going to faint. I'm going towards the sink because I think it's dehydration so I want to get water, but the rims of my vision are blackening & it's coming over more. I told my roommate I was going to faint & then just fell on the floor. I was still conscious though my vision was completely black & I couldn't move my body. My vision started to come back & I got up & try to open the cupboard for a plastic cup to get water because I'm worried about glass that I will drop it & I'm holding onto the counter because I know I'm going to faint again & the plastic cups aren't in the cupboard & I faint again. I come back & nearly blindly grab the plastic cup from the dish strainer & I get the water in the cup but then I can't swallow. I get the water in my mouth but it's like my throat is closed shut & the mechanism in the throat that allows you to swallow isn't working. So it's like the water is just in my mouth & when I try to get it to go to my throat it just sits there & I'm trying to choke it down but only the smallest amounts of water are making it. Then I woke up. It was so scary & my first thought when I woke up was how I'd read something about how spirits don't bother you if you have cats around because cats chase them away & I was thinking about how I only had the nightmare after all the cats left the room, so I immediately went downstairs to get Venom & she was sound asleep on the back of the armchair in the livingroom. I prodded at her asking her to come upstairs with me but she was so asleep she could hardly move. She ended up getting up & walking to the door & when I opened the door she ran upstairs & I brought her to the bed & she sat & waited for me to get in bed, but she was clearly so asleep she just kinda lulled there rather than immediately coming to me. I basically went right back to sleep, but the aftermath of the dream felt just as uncomfortable as the dream. I feel like it's rare the cats are in such a deep sleep that they can hardly walk, but I wonder what she must have thought ?

She woke me up again before the sun rose to let her back downstairs, but I was feeling better then so I was able to let her down & go back to sleep. But I did get my period in my sleep & bled on a pair of underwear I liked & it really bothered me. I thought it would wash out no big deal but I must have bled shortly after going to bed because it was acting as though it was already really set in. I haven't given up, but I'm worried it's really not going to lift.

I ended up seeing the two flame breathing bromides I wanted listed in lots with other items & I was planning to get them but I wanted to make sure I'd ordered the cats' food & litter first, & while I was out smoking I got my new phone sim card so I thought transplanting the cards would be easy so I thought I could just do that really quick but it ended up taking a whole fucking hour & the whole thing was a shit show. First, my phone requires the key device to take out the sim card, which I don't have & they didn't give me so I had to look up online how the fuck I was even supposed to remove it & what ultimately worked for me was an earring back, though nearly destroying the earring all the while.

I was supposed to keep my original phone number & the directions said in order to activate the sim card I was just supposed to make a phone call, so I'd called my roommate but the call was fucked up. They ended up calling me back but didn't know who I was because the phone number was different & said it was Michigan ?? I checked & yeah, there was another phone number & I was pissed off so I called the provider number which it said to do if you needed help activating your sim card. The call won't go through so I end up having to call from the house phone & I'm on hold for an hour again before patched through to a dude representative who honestly was really rude, he was like saying I needed to call back on a different number because he couldn't hear me & I'm like how the fuck am I supposed to do that ?? I have a cellphone I can't use & my home phone, what other phone do you expect me to use ?? He basically says since I was on the phone with him he manually changed the number but idk if that's true because my step dad has the same service & he said his phone number just changed over after an hour. The dude ran some random troubleshooting with me to make sure the phone was working & I'd asked about the software update but he was saying it was only effecting the phone service & mobile data which sucks but like whatever, I guess it was just misunderstanding & wishful thinking on my end. He ended up telling me my phone was up to date with it's software & like no, it's not because my phone is succumbed to forced obsolescence & can't update any further since two years ago so he basically told me to go fuck myself. Which whatever because I get it's not his problem but like don't lie to me & say it's up to date when I know it's not. Especially because just the moment before he said it wasn't up to date... It just bothered me. I gave him a bad review just for that because wtf ?? There's no reason to lie to me when you can just educate me on what the actual problem is. Then I wouldn't've been mad at him but just disappointed with myself.

Then my step dad was worried because for some reason when he tried to call me to test if the phone service was working, I guess he couldn't call me ?? So we had to check the different facets of my phone to make sure the service really was working & imo it does seem like it's spotty now, it is acting a bit weird apparently. But thankfully the right number is applied to it again.

After all that I was going to buy those two bromides & of course they both sold by that point & I wanted to cry. I'm still holding out hope that maybe they will list together for a good price. Part of what made me nervous to buy those ones were although the items were listed in lots with other items, I didn't want any of the other items so it really wasn't worth it to me outside of the single bromides themselves.

I also ended up looking at Romwe because I got curious if I could get new cardigans from there & I'm so appalled by the inflation. Thirty dollars for a cardigan from a fast fashion brand ?? I'd love to say I think they'd be cheaper at Target or Walmart, but at this point with how intense the inflation actually is I'm concerned that's not actually true. I decided to look at lingerie while I was there because I feel like I have these ideas in my head but I feel like the types of things I want don't exist for easy. I also felt like just basic underwear was more expensive than when I had bought from them before.

Which that was actually where the good pair of underwear I just ruined was from. I was really hoping I could find underwear that was nearly the same, but of course not !

I saw some nice cups & bands that I liked. There was this article that was like a demi sports bra but with a keyhole chest so you peep the between boobs, but of course it was a bullshit material with that dumbass scalloped lace lining. There were some nice balconettes but I understand the strap placement is important to the lift offering & I'm saying I do not want the side straps. There must be a way to get the lift with that cup without having your armpits carved out. I'm thinking perhaps a v shaped end ? To attach to the outside like the balconette straps but then have one also attached more towards the front, meeting the main strap in the middle to go over the shoulder to keep it away from the armpit. Because idgaf who sees my strap as long as the boob is lifted... I really feel like I'm about to start making franken bras.

(hello mtv, welcome to my bra lab.)

I ended up getting a set from Mercari with money I wasn't able to cash in (out ?) before. Mercari was really weird because the sellers didn't follow the same format as the Depop ones where they only listed by shirt size, most of the ones I looked at actually applied the cup & band size. However, after I was looking at that really cute savage fenty sports bra & the person told me to check the website for the measurements, I ended up checking Aerie's measurements to see they had small listed as 32a/b & medium as 34b/c I think ? With that being said, everyone I saw on Mercari listing Aerie sports bras in size large were tagging them as 34c/d & I was thinking that didn't make any sense because their website says medium is 34 & large is 36 so how the fuck are they saying they're thirty fours ? I decided to trust the Aerie website, but then I'd seen a lot of three garments that idk what you call them, they're sheer cup with a longer crop top like band underneath. Bustier I guess ? I really wanted one but the lot was cheap. I was unsure because they were marked as 34b but the tags were visible & said medium. I decided to try it but I will feel a little distraught if they don't fit. Though I suppose I could just resell them ig. I'd also seen this one bra that blew my mind because it's the same exact bra I just sold the other week. I was devastated to sell it because I bought it when I could wear bs but it ran small so it didn't fit me but it was so fucking cute, it was fuchsia with that early two thousands trendy tribal / geometric pattern that I love so much in lilac & blue. I ended up taking the straps off the one I had to use for a different bra & sold it as a bandeau & this one was selling as a bandeau. I really thought the person selling it was the same person who bought it from me until I'd seen the one I'd sold wasn't marked as delivered yet & when I checked my sold listing, it was marked as a b & this one showed the tag as 34c. & it was super cheap ! So I bought it & I'm about to lose my fucking mind if it fits !!

But at least then I think this should be enough breast coverage, I should chill the fuck out lol

I'd also noticed studio announced Rengoku cafe is precursor for cafe themed for other hashira to come ! The merchandise teased currently really reminds me of the first hashira meeting goods, where everyone is seated in portrait by candlelight. There is a vast array of merchandise, which is very great & compelling to see. Though Rengoku get excluded from most sets sadly.

For this one I like the layered acrylic panels. Again, a little hard to see due to the product images being so small, they fit very in line with the upcoming hashira expressions & personalities event ! It is too bad we don't get to see Rengoku for this, though I would say, unless they were to create animations for the two backstory comics, we don't see enough new Rengoku moments to really make having him follow suit with the layered acrylic panel worthwhile. I love to see him, but when his moments can really be reduced to we've seen you two times, it does make reusing those same assets over & over become stale... So I really wish they would just make the animations for his backstory comics... It would definitely give a lot more material to work with when making new merchandise for him...

& ngl the new intro artwork for the random acrylic stand is so sad not to include Rengoku. To view everyone walking into the light, happy & smiling together & just not him. I'd felt before it's really sad & sucks Rengoku is the first hashira to die because everyone else you can get to know a little bit for time spent with them in hashira training or end battles, but realistically he's like shown to you & that's it.

I also like the first placemat hardcase (a), I like the way the hashira were included in that one, it felt new & appealing to look at. The other one might be very appealing as well, but product image is just too small for me to really make out what's happening... For the stand clips I think it's funny Rengoku & Uzui featured Kimetsu Academy. But I like to see it because it's interesting & refreshing to see more facets to the characters. I also like the hard case, but I admit that I don't know what it is lol

There's also another eatery campaign coming up that will feature Rengoku after the new year roll over. So he doesn't have a new art now, but I am hoping he will. Especially because honestly pov Rengoku gives you soup is one of my favorite images of him, I'm not super bummed out for food collaborations because sometimes the art really do be slapping, though I wasn't really for the other characters' ensembles, so I don't really have my hopes up lol

I am wonder if post will have another new years collaboration this year ? I would imagine they do since they have the past few years, last year included all the important characters seen so far, so I am wondering if it will be full cast or if it's just going to be the newer introduced important characters, letting the older characters go back by the wayside ? Though I am always rooting for Rengoku, I admit for some events I don't get too distraught if he isn't included because sometimes I feel like it's good I'm not fiending to collect such loot lol

But I do think I am going to try to get his stand clips on resale. The lot is too big to pull from for me to try from the studio. I'm sure Rengoku's are going to be stupid expensive though @.@

I started this post two days ago & tapped out mid post but then yesterday was so busy & such a headache I wasn't able to finish the post then. I was going to say I got another flame breathing bromide, so now there is only one I am watching for. It is on sale for a decent price now, but I am still kinda holding out to see if there's a reasonable lot with it. I also finally bought the accessories for the scrapbook(s). Though I am slightly worried because I am bad at measurements, I don't have a super informed idea what the size of the binder is or the inlets I bought for it. Though I was thinking further about extending to postcards & coasters.

I had noticed scrapbooking was made popular in the same vein the idol dolls were, cultivated by the kpop fans. I'd heard the bromides were made popular like trading cards, but I was also under the impression they were typical nineties disposable camera photo sized, yet I actually think the kpop bromides might be like trading card sizes ? Because when I was looking at the binders & accessories for the kpop adjacent scrapbooking, I noticed everything appeared to be smaller than my smaller regular printed photo sized bromides. Which is where my worry about size & measurements are coming from.

I seen they have these things they're calling “toploaders,” which I guess would be familiar to card collectors like that of Yugioh, Pokemon or Magic The Gathering. I guess they're just protective card sleeves ? They have pre-decorated transparent card holders with all kinds of designs, but when faced against the traditional photo sizes, it appears most of these are too small. Which idk, I suppose it's redundant anyway to want pre-existing outlines that weren't made from the heart, when the reality is I should be doing the decorating wholly myself.

I found the top loader slips that should fit the standard photo size that have holographic effects, I've seen sets of colored & designed paper for backgrounds in scrapbooking & all kinds of stickers. Also cold laminate with a number of different effects. My plan is to apply bromides into clear envelopes & decorate everything over the clear envelopes so I'm not actually defacing the actual bromides in anyway. After each bromide is edited, it will be inserted into the binder, where I can proceed to add additional decorations around the top & backs of the inserted images.

I'm also thinking I can print out Rengoku images, digital photo collages & make my own cold laminate stickers to add to the exterior collages per page.

I was telling my roommate about it & they sounded very excitable for me. It is something that may end up being a long work in progress, because not only is there thought in decorating every bromide but then pulling each page together, all the while likely acquiring more bromides, more stickers, more editing doodads.

So I keep planning my forward expenditures. I've still got my eyes for collecting new Rengoku merchandise that I've still yet to see post, but I think I am going to keep getting more doll clothes & craft supplies currently. But I've made five sales recently, one of them was really good money. Though I'm also feeling some kinda way because three of the bras I've ordered haven't arrived yet with no viable ETA apparently due to the hurricane Helene ? But the same thing has happened with that Vinted package I shipped what feels like two weeks ago now. It made it to Louisiana & just has not moved for a week.

Coinciding with this, my mom ended up bringing me a number of bags of items that's been sorted through. I'd say I kept half of the clothes, but I will soon be listing two lots of bras she had given me as well as a number of different styles of crop tops. She gave me two whole grocery bags of fragrances. I know they are seeing a crackdown now on resale, so I've at least found four I think are viable to sell that I don't want. There is a lotion that does not appear to be opened which should be fine, but at least two of the other items were perfumes that had been sprayed more than some of the ones she'd given me before that I've been using had been sprayed. So I'm definitely nervous to list them because I don't want to get hit with a pull, threat or reprimand.

I keep thinking lately I want to draw still, but I haven't pursued it. I mentioned being more comfortable with what Burger is up to now & it is freeing, but it also feels like the first time in months I haven't been constricted. I feel like I just want to loaf around & do nothing. I'm also thinking about maybe trying a new game I've bought that's sat untouched on the shelf or perhaps doing new games for Legend Of Mana or Pokemon Scarlet.

Of course there's always getting on more listing, crosslisting or working on sewing projects. Today I just want to have zero thoughts & melt into my bed.

Also as a footnote after a previously mentioned statement, I got that fuchsia bra & added the straps & it fits so perfect I feel like there aren't words ! It's like a balconette so nothing transgresses against the armpits, the cups are perfect & pull everything into me. It makes the bust look small in the regard everything is pulled & held close, but I couldn't get over the evenness & slightest squishing with the faintest divot of cleavage. My only complaint is the other one was like perfect condition. Because it's a bra with a built in lace lined bandeau over it, there were a couple spots where the bandeau was pulling away sloppily from the bra. But I suppose it doesn't matter because not only did I get an amazing fit, but I got to wear a bra that I've wanted for years :')

[artisafeelingg]

I don’t think I can ever stop traveling. There’s no words that amount to the knowledge, freedom, enlightenment, connectedness, consciousness, or pure visceral elation I feel. There’s no currency that could exchange or begin to quantify the value of what I experience on these trips around the world. I would argue that immersion and exploration of self is a better way to describe my many escapades in foreign countries. How are we to be knowledgeable about our self, our society, our morality as a citizen of the world if we do not explore? In order to make decisions we must compare and contrast against our current knowledge bank and perceptions. Imagine how limiting that is when you’ve merely existed within one state, one country, or even one environment? As I get older I realize it’s terribly important to explore, to remain curious, to keep searching, keep learning, and keep making yourself uncomfortable. I’ve found that travel is simply the best conduit for that. While many live their entire lives in a monotonous, mundane, predictable, and socially permissible life (this is what we’ve been told is the ultimate life path and perhaps the quintessential American dream), I’ve found that this simply isn’t living in the way that I’ve defined it. Existing? Yes. Living? No. When we grow up we’re taught to find a career we love and an identity to embrace, and to stick with it until the end. We aren’t taught to explore the rice paddies in Cambodia, the inner yearnings and desires of the kind Balinese woman you met in Indonesia, the reef bleaching happening in Thailand, la dolce vita en Italia, etc. The list goes on. As a child I was stifled with fear, growing more and more anxious as this insurmountable decision loomed before me. Who was I to become? What would I do with my life? Which identity would I assume? Do I follow my passion? Do I chase the idea of a typical successful life? So much of our identity and life’s mission and path is predicated upon our career, of which many would never allow for such freedom and exploration of the world. I have to say I’m envious of those who have found their calling through their corporate job, of those who feel deeply fulfilled by the mundane, and of those who bought into such a traditional path. I wrestled with the thoughts and decisions daily on who I would choose to be when I grow up. The enormity of such a decision truly weighed on me. Some nights it was between sheep farmer in Ireland, or award winning poet. Other days tech founder and philanthropist. My love of food prompted me to create my own food blog and consider a culinary career. But how could I ever choose just one? That level of curiosity and deep desire to explore everything that excites me has stuck with me always. Much like writing, travel serves as my vehicle for expression, exploration, connection, and ultimately is what’s given my life such purpose and direction- a welcome shining beacon in an otherwise confusing and chaotic whirlwind that is mid-twenties life. My trip to Argentina in high school was one of my first and most formative trips. It prompted me to move to Italy (and miss college graduation) on a whim after never having visited, and from there I decided I wanted to live out my surfer girl dreams in Hawaii as I moved to the North Shore of Oahu. I’ve chosen New York as my next challenge. There’s something so jarring having to culturally, socially, mentally, and physically immerse yourself in each nuanced place that is so very different (Indiana, Italy, Hawaii, New York have been my homes) and I LOVE it. As Sylvia Plath, one of my most favorite authors writes so eloquently: “ I can never read all the books I want; I can never be all the people I want and live all the lives I want. I can never train myself in all the skills I want. And why do I want? I want to live and feel all the shades, tones and variations of mental and physical experience possible in my life. And I am horribly limited.” This is why I travel, why I will never stop exploring, and why I am dedicated and committed to my curiosity.

[protected-and-loved-by-castiel]

Blog: "One of the things that makes trauma recovery hard is, sometimes the name of the game is listening to our body— and other times, the name of the game is doing certain things for ourselves even though our body isn’t interested.

Many trauma survivors have gotten used to ignoring our body.

From early one, we’re conditioned to believe that our basic bodily reactions and urges are “bad.”

We’re conditioned to believe that our hunger doesn’t matter.

We’re conditioned to believe that our anxiety and fear responses, which manifest in bodily symptoms, are “weak” or otherwise disgusting.

We’re conditioned to believe that rest is “lazy”— and that falling asleep would actually leave us unacceptably vulnerable.

I know I sound like a broken record when I say this, but trauma recovery is functionally about reconditioning our nervous systems in ways WE choose— overwriting what growing up with trauma “taught” us. Or, more accurately, programmed in us.

That is to say: learning to listen to our body— and heed what our body is trying to tell us.

Learning to listen to our body when it says it’s uncomfortable or unsafe around a certain person.

Learning to listen to our body when it says it’s exhausted and cannot “push through.”

Learning to listen to our body when it says that its gender or sexuality may not necessarily match what the world sees.

So, yes— there is very much an extent to which trauma recovery is all about listening to and respecting what our body is telling us.

But it’s not that straightforward at all times, is it?

(Of course it isn’t. It never is, in trauma recovery.)

Just like there are times where we’ve been conditioned to ignore our body, there are also times when we’ve come to believe that we absolutely “have” to heed the signals our body is sending us— even when we know those signals are interfering with our ability to function.

For example, it’s very common for trauma survivors to not be hungry at all— but we still have to eat.

(In fact, in my experience, most survivors need to eat far more than we typically do, and definitely more than our appetite will “feel” like eating.)

It’s very common for survivors to not feel sleepy at all, or to feel very anxious at the very thought of closing our eyes— but we still need to rest, and find some way of getting rest that at least approximates deep sleep.

It’s supremely ironic that many survivors who have learned to ignore or deny our bodily needs in so many ways, suddenly believe we can’t possibly defy our body signals when it comes to not feeling we can or should eat or rest.

That’s why I say: it’s not as simple as “learning to listen to our body.” The truth is, trauma is going to have myriad, sometimes paradoxical, effects on our body and its signals."

https://useyourdamnskills.com/2024/06/11/trauma-recovery-and-listening-to-your-body/?fbclid=IwZXh0bgNhZW0CMTEAAR2Bz4DZ_6C2BGF-cBjw53zv6EBxGYHNrqE6Ra7wX27p1iF81NDx_UdScEg_aem_Ab1rQnNmzMgaGegYDwolEeqJ7DsqRIUVqsTke029jfiB7DLp4_CSoP9soGdZKkOzJd6bbQGGxVi8VSLkXHrwJZUz

Read the rest:

[ofhedgehogsandpumpkins]

A bunch of ramblings about personal stuff with regards to my own identity as 'human' or not follows. Wanted to get in on paper somewhere and was like "Hey, I have a blog," so. It's personal, but it's my (our) blog I get to post rambling personal posts if I wanna.

Today marks my (Quinn) second run-in w/ Something hitting the rat choir of yearning (good post) (technically like the umpteenth but in this case second) that made me go "Hm, am I a therian," stuff. We're no strangers to non-/alter-humans as a system, there's a wolf, a pair of dragons, and a couple other 'unclassified' folks, but y'know.

I've always kinda been the "token human"? In the past I've (semi-jokingly) used the phrase 'species nonconforming', I've just kinda bounced around from 'sona to 'sona pretty regularly (with a rough base in puppyesque vibes for a lot of reasons), but it's always been a role to play or mask to wear for fun. Y'know, typical furry stuff.

Then I read Taxxon's HRT fic (some of the others had read it before, but I ran into it myself later) like 2 months ago and that slapped the aforementioned rat choir into singing their familiar tune, and uh. I got stuck as a dog for like, a week.

So that was fun.

By which I mean terrifying, actually! For a lot of reasons! I'm really bad at introspection actually! But I tried to settle in as best as I could and when it passed I kinda breathed a sigh of relief and moved on. Went back to the, y'know, "have fun with it" vibe and kept going. Canid-specific 'sona's and roles were kinda poisoned a little by the experience, unfortunately, but it happens. Kobolds are where it's at anyway.

And then Last Night. A very good piece of art by ayviearttv here on Tumblr was passed to me (it's a series, go to their blog it's REALLY good). And uh. Oh Boy the Rat Choir. The night soured for unrelated reasons but a solid amount of it was "Why won't these tiny cheesebrains stop singing for like 5 minutes."

Like, they sing a lot is the thing. Not like, constantly, but a lot, in response to a lot of things that I won't detail. A few include like, specific depictions of androids, or organics becoming androids, etc., messy TF (ie; semi-realistic like in the case of Taxxon and Ayvie's pieces) both organic and mechanical, and so on. We/I have also been into dragons since, like, a super young age (raised on Dragonology, fantasized about being one, raised on Animorphs which also explains a lot, never read Pern but did read Eragon, etc.) so, y'know.

...I'm saying this like I'm trying to justify it. I guess I have to, to myself, a little. Not..."have to" but...feel the need to? I woke up this morning (like 12 hours ago) feeling like I had phantom limbs, they're still around when I'm not otherwise distracted (ADHD makes a lot of things go away when I'm distracted) and have been...odd to deal with. I've never been more aware of how dirty floors can be when it feels like a part of me is dragging on them, ha.

It doesn't feel scary. I mean, I'm anxious, a little. Moreso earlier. I'm anxious in the same way, the imposter way, the faking for attention way, so on, the ways that are usually externally motivated (or at least pretend to be). But unlike before I'm not...bone-deep terrified of it. It feels nice. Wings at my back, tail balancing me out, the strange feeling of horns and crest above, it's...I'unno. It's nice.

On the other hand, I miss being able to lay on my back without feeling weird, hah. Also I was basically sprinting out of the car whenever we stopped for errands.

My proprioception's (the sense of where your body is in space) always been kinda fluid and easy to fool, even for a human who developed a fluid proprioception to handle tool use (that's why tools and/or vehicles often feel like a part of your body when you use them and you (generally) know where in space they are even without looking). Like, as a kid I found a tarot book in our grandmother's workspace that had advice for developing proprioceptive wings through meditation (not joking) and that worked pretty well for me, among other things. It's just how I am. So we'll see, uh, how long this sticks around, I guess.

If...it doesn't...no harm. Mm...maybe a little harm. I'll be sad. I think I'd miss it now that I know how it feels. If it does, work's gonna be awkward, hah. They don't make chairs for that. It'll be fine, just funny.

I don't need advice or anything, to be clear, just musing. I like hearing about the experiences of other therians in specific/alterhumans in general. It's neat. Plurality was neat too, and then turns out I was we. Regardless, it's neat, so I guess I'm just putting this out there to have on paper, and if anyone reads it and it makes them think a little about themselves or encourages anyone or whatever, that's an added bonus.

[occult-roommates]

btw this blog is on small hiatus cause basically, i explained it on my main, but i worked my ass off at my daycare job barely going out the entire summer to save some money, my mom ended up taking half of it and i know she's never gonna pay me back. then i thought i had found a sweet gig at a novelty store (good schedule, good pay, store located within my typical bus road, nice working condition) i was super confident i was gonna get the job, so i prematurely quit my daycare one, but in spite of telling me i was an amazing candidate and also the first one to accept the offer, the fucker did not hire me and money was starting to run out. spent weeks sending resume upon resume, got only called back at a fucking butcher store, and still they didn't hired me either (which i mean thank god but still). then a friend offered me a paid internship at a youth center, which i started legit two days ago and i HATE IT. it feels like im back in high school and it's making me so anxious last night i had muscle spasm going from my back to my legs. the only upside is the pay otherwise everything else sucks (especially the location like riding the bus more than an hour is miserable).

so yeah, currently my mental state could be described as "stressed, depressed, hopeless and burnt out". im literally thinking about money all the fucking time and im bitter how i wasted my summer working while my family went to mexico for nothing. i originally had plan to start flight school this fall but that's getting delayed again as take a wild guess why i wanted to save money in the first place. and now im just miserable cause my two hopes for the fall have been taken away from me. literally all i can think about is that i need a job and that money is about to run out. i pretty much spent all of last week sleeping or scrolling tiktok without the energy to do anything else.

and this is why i've been completely inactive. usually when i don't post for a while it's just because i've hit writer's block but right now, really shit is fucked i don't know what else to do.

[xiaq]

Ok I'm probably not going to say this right but after your last post I have have a question I guess? I don't really like sex and I love the idea of a relationship that doesn't require sex to be happy and healthy. I really relate to the whole not being anxious about taking a shower together or expectations or wahtever that you talked about but I've never experienced it before. Is that something you get from dating a friend? I guess I just want to know how you get to a place like that.

CW for sex talk. Hello friend. Apparently today is the day for Long Ass Ask Answers.

I wish someone had told me this years ago so I’m saying it to you now in case it saves you some angst:

Don’t settle for bad sex.

If you don’t like the sex you’re having, stop. If you don’t like having sex at all—neat! You’ll have so much time for other activities. You do not owe yourself to anyone, under any circumstances, even if you’re socially trained to think you do.

Listen. I took PhD qualifying exams in Feminist theory. And even I had more or less submitted myself to the idea that sex just wasn’t going to be that fun for me and I’d need to learn to deal or be alone.

I admittedly have very little sexual experience, but the experience I had up until my current relationship was lackluster. I wasn’t repulsed by sex, but it was eh at best and painful at worst and I’d never initiated a sexual situation in my life because A. ultra conservative Christian doctrine during your formative years can seriously fuck up your perception of intimacy in general (insert Youth Pastor Voice here: “men enjoy the act of sex, women enjoy the results of sex: children”) and B. I just…would rather do all sorts of other things. Sex was a thing other people wanted from me and if I cared about them I was supposed to provide it.

Objectively, I knew this was wrong. And yet.

Let me lay out some Inarguable Truths for you. Sex should not:

hurt (unless you want it to)

make you uncomfortable

make you feel dread or guilt before or afterward

be used as leverage

be coerced

be treated as a necessity by your partner

I told my current partner at the very beginning of our relationship (when I was trying to convince him that he didn’t actually want to be in a relationship with me) that I didn’t particularly enjoy sex, that I really didn’t like penetrative sex, and I that wasn’t willing to pretend otherwise anymore.

His response: “then we won’t have sex.”

Let me tell you, that threw me for a loop. I was expecting the more typical, “you’d enjoy sex with me” or even “what a waste.”

“Ever?” I asked.

“Ever.”

Well, okay then.

After a couple of weeks, I decided to try anyway. Not because I felt pressured but because I was curious. I thought maybe there would be one of those fanfic/romance novel moments and, suddenly, I’d love sex because I’d found The Right Person. Reader, I did not get my moment. Except for this time, I didn’t feel like I had to just suck it up. So we stopped. We made stir fry and cuddled and talked about the RMS Carpathia and Abraham Lincoln’s assassination (any nerds know what these things have in common?) instead. A+ evening.

A week later, he came to me, and after spending a surfeit of time qualifying what he was about to say with assurances that he didn’t expect anything from me, etc., etc. he told me he’d done some research because he was concerned there was an underlying issue causing my pain/discomfort. I hadn’t ever thought to ask my doctor because, at my pap/annual exam each year, they’d say my downstairs parts looked fine and send me on my way. Surely they would have said something? But I made an appointment with an OB and I brought a list of questions.

Did you know that endometriosis can make penetrative sex hella painful? Did you know that, if you have an autoimmune disease, even if you’re managing it well, you might deal with significant inflammation the week before your period, which can also make sex hella painful? Did you know that if you’re a small human you might just have a lower cervix which can (surprise) make sex hella painful? Did you know that there are things you can do to at least somewhat ameliorate these issues? Did you know that, when you stop viewing sex as an uncomfortable thing you have to provide and instead view it as an optional activity where you have full autonomy, you suddenly stop feeling guilt and dread at the very concept of physical intimacy and can actually, maybe, enjoy it? I do now. I didn’t for 15 years.

Do not settle for bad sex. Because if someone isn’t willing to sort out why you’re uncomfortable, and how to change your approach to intimacy to fix it, they’re probably not a good partner for you. If you simply don’t want sex and your partner insists on it, they’re probably not a good partner for you. There is a whole spectrum of reasons why you might not enjoy sex and I obviously can’t speak to all of them but Please. Learn from my mistakes. When you start drawing hard lines you're going to make progress, one way or another. Don’t let anyone convince you that you’re broken or undesirable if you’re not interested in sex. That’s a them problem, not a you problem.

I arrived to the place I'm at in my current relationship because I advocated for myself and said I wasn't willing to do something that made me uncomfortable. And my partner, who views me as a three-dimensional human being with more to offer the world than my body, immediately validated my feelings and agreed not to push my boundaries. Was the fact that we were friends for years helpful there? Sure. Because I already implicitly trusted him. But the important thing here is to know your limits and be willing to stick up for yourself. If you're explicit about your desires, it's easier to find the folks who are a good fit for fulfilling those desires.

[kiame-sama]

I'll say this now just because I need to make it clear.

I don't do every request sent to me. I currently have 659 requests in my box and one- which I eventually plan on completing- is the first ever request sent to me. I keep most requests hanging around because I may eventually have inspiration for them.

As a rule of thumb, I can share my criteria for a request I hang on to and what I delete.

~~~~~~~~

1. Anything that makes it clear a person did not read or respect my request rules are immediate deletes. If you can't bother to even learn what a person writes for before requesting then I can't bother to give any ounce of my time to your request.

2. Demands. Don't demand a damn thing from me. I choose what I do and what I don't do and I owe people nothing. I enjoy sharing my work and enjoy ideas others can provide, but do not think for a second that I would hesitate to delete everything and just carry on with my life. Demand things from me and get blocked. I can block on anon too so good luck with that.

3. I have multiple things I write about, don't DARE to get on me for not devoting all of my time to one character or series. If I keep getting annoying asks of "oh, are you going to continue this or not?" I will delete the series asked about. Understand almost every other author I have encountered HATES making part twos or when people request multiple parts to one series, I am different in that regard. I like building universes and often create multiple parts because I have multiple ideas. I am of the minority of writers who enjoy doing that. Operate under the assumption that I will continue an established series unless I say otherwise. For now, I just delete them.

4. Asking a question is fine, badgering me for something gets you not a damn thing.

5. Don't automatically assume I do the same thing in aus as other authors do. "I saw this author say something about the Au so I just assume you do too-" stop. If I make an au, I may operate under similar rules but do not think for a second that I will tolerate people imposing the Au of other authors on me.

These are my usual operating rules for what I will likely flat out delete in terms of requests.

Some advice for those hesitant to make a request or for those anxious out there;

1. I am slow to respond just as a character fault of mine, but I am also forgetful. Remind me of things if you really feel it is worth it, but know the more often and closer together that you poke, the lower my patience gets.

2. I don't bite right off the bat, but I also won't hesitate to snap back if someone comes at me sideways.

3. I have pet peeves that make me more likely to delete than consider in a request.

I don't like multiple question marks together "???" Just feels obnoxious because one is fine and multiple typically signify tone or intensity of tone so my brain reads it as over the top. I won't flat out delete these asks because of multiple punctuation points, but you are not doing yourself favors with it either.

I don't like text speak unless in an actual text. "Tho" for "though" or "u" for "you" is just telling my brain the person didn't even care enough to write the whole word so clearly they care the same level for the request.

There are topics that bore me to write about and that is usually why I don't feel like doing a request. It is not that I am uncomfortable with the subject, just bored with it. I'm not interested in cheating fics where reader is cheated on or cheats. Maybe headcannons, but that is it. I find it boring as a topic in general.

Don't put all caps at me. It comes across as shouting which is similar to demanding and I don't like it much.

If I can't understand what you are asking, I can't answer. Don't make it look like a late night drunk text please.

Alternatively, there are things that make me consider a request more;

Manners will get you far with me. Have manners and don't demand, we will get along just fine.

I like when people are not on anon because it lets me ask questions if I have any.

Give me a unique ask and I am more likely to do it. Part of my autism is prediction of what will happen in a plot and I am rarely wrong which is why certain tropes are boring to me, so if you surprise me with something unique you will get a longer answer because you make me think more.

Feel free to keep these in mind if you make a request.