#and kind of disassociating

[valleynix]

I heard you’re making something original! What’s it about :3

i am! i don’t have a synopsis yet (instead, i have plenty of gay thoughts). i believe i posted the prologue on here, like… a year or so ago? it’s been that long that it’s been in my head; i’ve just never gotten around to making it an actual story until recently.

anyway! what i can share so far is that it’s sapphic, there is an unreliable narrator in one of the POVs, and it is… tragic. y’all know me. i can’t not make something angsty.

i’m trying not to be super spoilery considering i am only just now on the second chapter (they’re short but still). the main theme i want to explore is love in the purest sense: seeing someone damaged beyond repair, at least to their own eyes, and loving them all the same, no matter who they have now become. and that mental illness, while it can seemingly take on a physical presence in your life, is not always noticeable to someone who loves you for you.

i was going to make it toxic, but i decided writing a happier couple who struggle through all of this would be better for my state of mind and those of my readers’.

anyway. if i can find the prologue somewhere on this page, i’ll reblog it for those who may want to read it or who didn’t know i was writing something original. i’m not sure if i’ll get back to TPtM anytime soon (i am struggling a lot with motivation right now), but i hope i can :)

[xo-cod]

simon + pussy spanking? 👀

headcannons because i got lazy lmao :) hope you enjoy (sorry it took ages babe) nsfw ahead! 🤍

v short, lmk if you'd like a longer one

absolutely loves it ‼️

his spanks are never too rough, just enough where you can feel the pressure on your clit, his calloused fingers rubbing it for a few seconds just to give a little tease of the pleasure you would've been receiving

loves having you on your back sprawled across his thigh, whispering all the promises he's going to fulfil with every spank directly on your pussy

his fingers teasing your entrance, barely going to the first knuckle just to hear those pretty sounds fall from your lips

he can feel you clench, his name a breathless whimper on your lips as he slowly stretches you with two of his fingers for a second

the both of you gasping softly at the first contact, your body all but melting into his arms as he holds you closer

his mouth continuing its gentle onslaught on your skin, his lips finding your pulse point feeling the frantic flutter of the heartbeat beneath his touch.

relishing in the fact that he gets to have you like this, gently nibbling down on your skin while his two fingers leave the warmth and tightness from your cunt causing you to whimper at the loss

gathering your slick in his fingers just teasing your pussy up and down, his lips inches away from yours a dark chuckle leaving his lips as his brown eyes bore into yours memorising every feature mapped out on your face

"look at it, so wet and needy already. ya like that, huh? fuckin precious"

loves it when you grow all twitchy and needy, watching your mind switch off

he could honestly play with your pussy all day, he just loves how you sound and all the different ways you tense up

"where's that attitude gone now, hm? what happened to the brat?"

teases you but you're so far gone, unable to speak back to him like you were doing a half hour ago

all that manages to comes out are pleas and begs, apologies for acting up though you're barely even hearing the words just focusing on how good his hand feels and the intensity of each spank against your clit desperate to feel more

"that's my good fuckin girl" each word punctuated with a spank, chuckling at how you whimper his name and writhe in his arms begging for more

will def lick his fingers once he's done, you just taste too good for him not to <3

[imsiriuslyreading]

merry christmas! i hope that if you too struggle with family obligations or difficult dynamics around this time, you find some peace, comfort and love in your fave stories and characters. and also your weird little friends in your phone 🫶🏽

[moonshynecybin]

marc being soo lonely and unpopular is my roman empire. you're telling me he's really just a weird kid with no friends, his best friend is his brother? my heart breaks for him. and he's had so many highs and lows in his career and the only one who Really understands is vale but vale won't talk to him and is also the one who made his loneliness a lot worse? turned everyone and especially the media against him.. vale's kids hate marc even though they're too young to fully grasp their history! vale has sooo much work to do after the reunion... getting his boys to like marc and be nice to him, being there for marc again. getting marc to trust him again! no marc, you don't have to deal with everything all by yourself anymore! something is bothering you? talk to me about it i'm here for you! it'll be so worth it though, can you imagine marc finally coming out of his shell again, comfortable to be himself again, still a bit disbelieving that all of those people are his Friends now? he's not alone anymore?? i think about this daily

i love nice things for marc so it is fun to imagine vale looping him in on his abundance of community and that being very healing for both of them... marc IS a pretty isolated dude as a result of being like. ruthlessly competitive and a prodigy and his crazy schedule etc we've all seen it. that being said. i do wonder about that boy's social skills bc vale has a lot of similar traits/life experiences and has like half the grid convinced he's their daddy.

[steinwayandhissons]

arctic monkeys and every time the word ‘love’ is mentioned

whatever people say I am that’s what I’m not

tonight there’ll be some love, tonight there’ll be a ruckus yeah regardless of what’s gone before

~ view from the afternoon

oh there ain’t no love, no montagues or capulets

~ i bet you look good on the dancefloor

all that’s left is the proof that love’s not only blind but deaf… yeah I’d love to tell you all my problem

~ fake tales of san francisco

she makes a subtle proposition, I’m sorry love I’ll have to turn you down

~ when the sun goes down

lady, where has your love gone, i was looking but can’t find it anywhere, they always offer when there’s loads of love around but when you’re short of some it’s nowhere to be found

~ no buses

well how can you wake up with someone you don’t love and not feel slightly phased by it

~ leave before the lights come on

favourite worst nightmare

it’s wrong wrong wrong but we’ll do it anyway cause we love a bit of trouble

~ balaclava

and those dreams weren’t as daft as they seem, aren’t as daft as they seem my love

~ fluorescent adolescent

there’s room for the trouble and there’s lovers to be had

~ this house is a circus

it’d be a big mistake for you to wait and let me waste your time, really love it’s fine, I said really love it’s fine

~ the bad thing

old yellow bricks, love’s a risk… houdini love you don’t know what you’re running away from

~ old yellow bricks

another roll around and another push and shove, further away from the idea of love

~ da frame 2r

the more you keep on looking the more it’s hard to take, love we’re in stalemate… you’re slacking love where have you been

~ the bakery

am I too quick to assume that the love is no longer in bloom

~ too much to ask

humbug

i had a hole in the pocket of my favourite coat and my love dropped into the lining

~ i haven’t got my strange

suck it and see

i wanna feel your love brick by brick

~ brick by brick

do you still feel love is a laserquest or do you take it all more seriously… when I’m not being honest I pretend that you were just some lover

~ love is a laserquest

your love is like a studded leather headlock

~ suck it and see

jealousy in technicolour, fear by name, love by numbers… crushing up a bundle of love

~ that’s where you’re wrong

before she showed you how to shake love’s steady hand

~ the blonde o sonic shimmer trap

your love’s not what I need, so don’t give it to me

~ evil twin

am

it’s not like I’m falling in love I just want you to do me no good… the look of love, the rush of blood

~ no.1 party anthem

love buckles under the strain of those wild nights

~ mad sounds

I heard that you fell in love, or near enough

~ snap out of it

love like locked horns, love like dominoes… love like thunder, love like falling snow

~ electricity

I know you’re nothing like mine cause she’s walking on sunshine and your love would tear us apart

~ you’re so dark

tranquility base hotel and casino

love came in a bottle with a twist off cap, let’s all have a swig and do a hot lap… but it’s alright, cause you love me

~ star treatment

when true love takes a grip it leaves you without a choice

~ golden trunks

pattern language in the mood for love

~ the world’s first ever monster truck front flip

I wanna stay with you my love, the way some science fiction does

~ science fiction

the dawn won’t stop weighing a tonne, I’ve done some things that I shouldn’t have done, but I haven’t stopped loving you once

~ the ultracheese

the car

lights out on the wonder park, your saw toothed lover boy was quick off the mark

~ jet skis on the moat

put your heavy metal to the test, there might be half a love song in it all for you

~ mr schwartz

[yogurthoopsart]

It's always been interesting to me. How did Vanny fall in love with Taffy? Is a killer capable of loving the person he tried to kill?

im SO glad you asked. It happens a little bit after the Daycare Incident - long enough for Glitchtrap to get pissed that Staff hasn't quit/Vanessa hasn't finished the job:

She immediately "leaves" and Staff has her first encounter with a Very Affectionate Vanny moments later.

[mercutiotakethewheel]

Kendra, inwardly: Omg I am so scared right now. I’m going to die here. This freakyass magical creatures about to do me in. And could do so easily, which I am imagining very vividly right now. Those are huge teeth. I am fighting god to hold it together right now. I don’t want to die. Why am I here? Just to suffer, every night I close my eyes and—

Kendra, outwardly: I cast vicious mockery.

[abigailmoment]

In The Absence Of Stars

Tags: Tragic Kindness, Post-Solitary Confinement, Disassociation, Vampire Spawn Culture, Terrible Hurt and Strange Comfort, Starvation, Healing from Trauma, Polyamory, Community Building, Eating Disorder, Codependency, Self-Harm Through Neglect, Prevented Suicide Attempt, Familiars As Service Animals, Learning, Getting Better, Hurt and Actual Comfort

-

Astarion's neck prickled and his hands tightened around his mug. He knew he had limited time. And he knew he was doing this wrong. He was at a table in the back corner, and that was wrong of him. He should be at the bar. He should be on display. That's how you drew people. Pretty didn't work if it was hidden in a corner.

Pretty didn't work if it was hidden under stone.

"Are you all right?"

Someone was close. Someone had gotten close, and Astarion hadn't even noticed. Something inside of him flinched, but the impulse didn't make it to his body. There was a strange delay between mind and movement.

When he did move it was to look up and try to make sense of the shape next to him. Tall. Green. Teeth.

"You're not all right," said the half-orc.

-

This was inspired by this story by @ineadhyn.

I made the Samaritan a half-orc because I needed someone who would be completely unafraid to walk someone else home at night in Baldur's Gate. By the end I realized that the kind but assertive voice I had for him was based quite a bit on Finch, who belongs to @everchased and who therefore should be credited for inspiration.

It obviously isn't actually him, because that would be unbearably hideous, and also he's in the future, smiting evildoers. Possibly this is some great grand-uncle.

-

Astarion couldn't talk properly.

He was out, but his voice was back in the crypt. Trapped under a slab. Dusty and broken.

He ordered a drink by pointing. He had coins in his pocket. He had found them months ago. There was loose change in tombs, if you looked hard enough. For long enough. Funerary rites. Coins for the dead. Meant for a different corpse. His now.

Five copper for a year of solitude. Not…not a very good price.

It was enough to buy a very cheap drink that he didn't want. A necessary prop, he remembered.

He remembered the rote things. The need to get a drink to justify existing in this space. He remembered where this space was. The taven's name had changed, he was fairly sure, but it was much the same. Dingy, but not filthy. Populated by few groups, mostly solitary drinkers. Poorly lit.

Even the dim lantern light made his eyes hurt. Everything seemed so bright.

The light was better than darkness, anything was better than darkness, but it had been so abrupt. Nothing and nothing and nothing and then an assault of light and hideous movement. Dragged out by Godey. Washed by Aurelia. He had mauled a rat to tatters and not had time to pick the skin out of his teeth before he had to leave. He had to find someone. As he always did. As if it hadn't happened. As if the last year hadn't happened.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to fold down on the floor and cry.

He took his drink and went to find a place to sit. He held it with both hands. His grip was about as reliable as his voice. He found a table. He held his drink as if it meant something to him. He sat still.

This was…this was bearable. This moment. Sitting here. Away enough from the lanterns that they didn't blind so much. There was movement and noise, which was good because if it got too quiet he might actually scream, but it wasn't all around him, like it had been on the street. It wasn't doing anything to him.

At the moment.

Astarion's neck prickled and his hands tightened around his mug.

He knew he had limited time. And he knew he was doing this wrong. He was at a table in the back corner, and that was wrong of him. He should be at the bar. He should be on display. That's how you drew people. Pretty didn't work if it was hidden in a corner.

Pretty didn't work if it was hidden under stone.

"Are you all right?"

Someone was close. Someone had gotten close, and Astarion hadn't even noticed. Something inside of him flinched, but the impulse didn't make it to his body. There was a strange delay between mind and movement.

When he did move it was to look up and try to make sense of the shape next to him. Tall. Green. Teeth.

"You're not all right," said the half-orc.

He leaned over and Astarion didn't know what to do. Scripts were jumbling together in his head. There were all sorts of things he was supposed to do when someone leaned into his space and he wasn't doing any of them. Just sitting there. Like a mouse. Or a statue.

"I think you've had a little too much…" the half-orc was saying, because he was leaning over to look at Astarion's drink. He stopped talking briefly when he saw it was untouched.

"…something," he still maintained, with a fair amount of confidence. "Are you here with anyone?"

Astarion shook his head. Always no to that.

The half-orc looked relieved that he'd actually responded, and eyed him critically for a moment. Then he sat down in a chair across from Astarion.

"Did you drink something?" he asked Astarion. "Or eat something?"

A rat. It had been a moment of abject ecstasy and nowhere near enough. But that's not what was meant. Astarion shook his head.

"Did something happen to you?" the half-orc asked.

Astarion didn't shake his head. He didn't nod. What was he supposed to say to that?

"There's a Fist officer on the street outside," the half-orc said. "Do you need me to…?"

"No."

Then Astarion coughed, because there was still dust in his throat.

"Okay. Okay." The half-orc was holding his hands up. "Not that. That's fine."

Astarion finished coughing. He took a drink of pointless liquid. His hands were shaking. He was so useless right now. If even this was too much, he had no idea how he was going to…

"Do you live nearby?" the half-orc asked him.

That ticked a familiar note in Astarion's brain. That was part of a script, but it wasn't part of this script. Whatever this was. Astarion just stared at him.

"Look. I'm going to get you home, all right?" the half-orc said.

Something inside of Astarion froze. It couldn't be this easy. It was never this easy.

He nodded.

And it was easy.

Astarion was helped to his feet. He was steered very gently around the tables, chairs and other solitary drinkers. The door was opened for him.

They walked through the dark streets. No one bothered them, because one of them was six feet tall and had tusks. Astarion didn't even have to talk. He just pointed down the streets where they needed to go.

The half-orc kept a hand on Astarion's arm. Not possessive. Astarion knew possessive. It was like he was concerned Astarion might fall over and wanted to be in a position to do something about that if it happened. And it had been a year. A year since any kind of touch like that. And it was light enough that it didn't overwhelm, and Astarion felt like his body was somehow devouring it through the point of contact on his arm. Like the rat. Abject ecstasy and nowhere near enough.

And Astarion kept pointing down streets leading them closer and closer to his home.

It felt like there was a mortar and pestle inside of his chest. And every step he took turned the pestle and ground away at something. Something slender and enduring. Something that he hadn't realized he still had, didn't remember the name of, and that he was slowly destroying by doing this. A feeling like watching the night sky and seeing stars winking out.

They stopped at the base of the main stairs, that led up to the familiar mahogany door of the least convoluted entrance.

"You gonna be okay from here?" the half-orc asked.

He sounded a little intimidated. Because Astarion had led him to a castle.

And there was a moment, when the dying, ground down thing inside of Astarion's chest fluttered. A keening desire to do something, anything, other than what he was currently doing. But it was an impulse that didn't translate into motion. A death rattle. Because he was fresh from a lesson about sentiment. And the night sky was black, like the inside of a tomb.

"Would you mind…" Astarion started quietly, and stuttered, but managed to thread the words together in the end: "I may have trouble with the stairs."

"Sure," the half-orc said, immediately.

And he helped Astarion up the stairs and into the Szarr Palace.

-

This was supposed to be a short story about the POV character.

It is now an ongoing series about the half-orc. There are going to be about twenty chapters. I have all of it outlined and much of it written.

Gods preserve me. The rest of it is on AO3. -

[itshomobirb]

my therapist, during our last session, asked me what would happen if i put up boundaries between my parents and i. like saying "that's a personal question" if my mother started asking invasive questions.

so i tried it. told her "that's a personal question" when she asked "it seems like you're not drinking as much water lately. are you?"

ladies and gentlemen. besties and brothers of the jury. from the woman who tracks my bowel movements and rifles through my trash and monitors the cameras for every time i leave the house, we got the oh so glorious response of, "oh geez, borb. *really?* you treat us like we're strangers. this is not how you used to be. 😒"

[letteredlettered]

Lemme just talk for a second about the scene where Xie Lian gets murdered over and over again in his temple on his altar.

Specifically, the paragraph of "it hurts it hurts it hurts" over and over. Usually, I would say that just repeating the same thing over and over for emphasis is not going to make your point. Repetition dulls after about three times. Even reading that scene, my eyes skipped over that paragraph because I could see it was the same thing over and over again.

But you know what's crazy, it did a job and it did it differently and imo better than a lot of scenes like that I've read. Because how do you write about something endlessly being tortured so extremely? One technique is to just talk for a while about how painful it is avoiding exact repetition, but the truth is that this gets repetitive too. A reader can only take so much pain and suffering; after that, it doesn't feel like pain anymore. It feels like bad writing.

Another method, which is I think what you would more commonly see in a "well-written" torture scene and the method I myself would usually employ to write such a thing, is disassociation. We've all heard of or experienced a pain that hurts so bad you almost can't experience it anymore; you can't process; your brain goes to another place because the nerves overload it with too much info. So, the way these scenes are often written is that the person is suddenly outside of their body, watching it happen, or they are suddenly in a memory of a different time, or even the narrator just jumps elsewhere so that when the narrator returns to the immediacy of the pain the viewpoint character is experiencing, everything is sharp again.

MXTX...did not do that. And I think what comes across is that Xie Lian cannot do that. He's trying to get beyond "it hurts it hurts it hurts," to go to some other place in his brain, and he can't escape. The panic of him not being able to escape that temple, that altar, or even that moment in his own mind creates this kind of claustrophobia in which you really do have to experience every. single. sword.

And of course, this is Xie Lian's whole problem ("problem"). He was that he was not able to take a step back. He was not able to remain uninvolved. He had to try to solve every single issue. He had to take every. single. sword.

And he is only able to disassociate when he is completely broken, when he tries to kill himself and can't; his disassociation is so ultimate and almost complete that he becomes someone else entirely. He becomes White No-Face.

And what's wild about Xie Lian is that after he comes back to himself, he knows how to compartmentalize. He knows that it's possible to stop feeling pain. He knows that it's possible to put away hurt and replace it with something else. But Xie Lian chooses not to do that. For Xie Lian, every single sword hurts less than feeling nothing at all.

[bookinit02]

literally what a day i am still shaking

[undead-potatoes]

I was messing around with Aurora in the character creator and clicking through all the hairs when I remembered an idea I've seen floating around fandom where Kressa cut Durge's long hair off if it was in her way, and now it's one of those brainworms that won't leave me alone.

Like I can't resist a good hair journey, and it would be kinda symbolic to have her old hair and look be cut away for a fresh start. I just love a dwarf with lots of hair, which is why Aurora originally has long, thick hair down to her ass, but it's awfully tempting to fuck her up just a little bit more post-tadpole.

I don't think it would be shaved all the way down, since that seems too neat and high effort w/o electrical clippers, so I'm imagining around jaw length, where her myriad of braids have been hastily cut off as they came loose from her head. That also feels slightly more fucked up to me in a way since it's so obviously a hack job and a possible violation, as opposed to a shaved head that could have been a deliberate choice she just can't remember.

Her beard is also a little different. Pre-cult she used to have a beard pretty similar to her post-tadpole one, but during her cult years she started shaving to make herself harder to recognize by anyone from her old life. That's why her beard is suddenly so short here too - it's only starting to grow in.

Hopefully someone at camp would be able to help her to something resembling an actual haircut, and then she'd just let both her hair and beard grow out over the months until the hair was long enough to braid.

This does obviously flip some of her aesthetic on its head, and I'm not sure what she'd so with her hair while it grew out (gimme some of that hair grease, Astarion).

I haven't decided on anything yet but I am rotating it around in my head like a yummy little rotisserie chicken.

[puffin-smoke]

Bug Questions to stave off the existential dread

1 - Scenario timee

Your bug was sent into town to grab some supplies, and things are going pretty well. They've ticked off most of their list, and were just looking for one final thing when they came across a small cafe. It was very rustic looking, and there were tables and chairs arranged outside it. Sitting at one such table was Duarte, slightly hunched over and picking at the end of her scarf. On the other side was a stern looking woman who looked uncannily like her. Your bug overhears some of their conversation.

"Why the hell are you acting like this? I'm sorry I haven't been around, but this just- I'm trying. I want to be around."

The woman just sneers at her, annoyed. "Oh this has to be a joke- what do you want from me? Are you here to beg for money? I swear you are just like your father-"

What does your bug do?

2 - How would your bug respond to getting cheated on?

3 - Another scenario?? Wtf. (Tw, character experiencing dissociation)

The bugs haven't seen Duarte in a little while. That isn't unusual in of itself, she's never been the most social, but she's usually around at least. So your bug gets worried and decides to go and check on them.

Your bug knocks on the door to her room. There's no answer, so they knock again. No answer. Shrugging, your bug decides to go in anyway.

Your bug opens the door to see Duarte, sitting on the floor. She's staring at a wall, her eyes glassy and not really seeing anything. She doesn't respond when your bug asks what's going on, but she is mumbling something.

"I'm not here... I'm not here..."

Your bug gets closer. Duarte's breathing is shallow and fast, and she's picking at her skin. It's bleeding. Her gaze is a thousand miles away.

What does your bug do?

4 - wow, that last question was kind of alot. Let's get back to something more lighthearted. Tell me something silly about your bug.

5 - Your bug has been booped on the nose. Discuss.

tags:

@rozeliyawashereyall @willowve01 @asmrbrainrot @kaiamtt @iistxrmyskyii @insignificant-anarchy @stxph-artist @aspenm00n @keyaartz @fangsshadow @rustycopper4use @piffany666 @dreamyshape @idontevenknow7878 @lunaritychuwolf @littlesiren79 @castbracelet240 @strayharmony943 @proxdragon @tiefling-chaos @threeweekinsomnia

@recated @wilderrorcard @diamondzoey @fennaboysenberry @lunnats

@lightdragon789 @pinkcocopuff-aqualoid @itsargyle @not-5-rats @astralbulldragon13

@ccstiles @puffin-smoke

[lu-sn]

fic recs: missing scenes (pete pov)

cleans up nice (Lirelyn)

pete character study, ep11, bathing, shaving, coercion, oneshot, 2K

Vegas likes his pets clean, so Pete gets a shower and a shave. It's fine. Nothing Pete can't handle. commentary: this is fine, pete says, as vegas makes pete clean himself and then watches. lots of great how-to-cope-with-your-deranged-captor logic as pete tries to disassociate his way through it.

take me to your planet (any_open_eye)

pete character study, ep 12-13, subspace, and falling out of it, explicit, oneshot, 1K

Pete’s face is doing something. He thinks he might be smiling. He feels fucking high. “That was good, right?” Vegas's hands are on him. “Tell me it was good.” commentary: pete is gone. he's under deep. vegas makes everything feels good - the gentleness, the soreness, the pleasure born of pain. but good things always end.

Deep Dive (Zaatar)

pete character study, ep13, underwater, disassociation, oneshot, 2K

After the safehouse, Pete goes back to underwater restraints training. It hits differently. commentary: pete just wants to feel that haze of nothingness, drift away. but chan and porsche won't let him -- and they've got conflicting interests. this fic is secretly a bit of a study of all three of them, and it doesn't pull its punches.

-

shoutout to the vegaspete Missing Scene tag on AO3, which is chock full of devastating character studies that make me want to lie down and cry. if you've read all of these go give that tag a browse!

[twilight-good-yall-dumb]

my life has lowkey been falling apart for weeks now, but I had like a week and a half of fun plans and such that i wanted to enjoy so I just like forced my brain to ignore it. Then in the midst of that I was hit with another major stressor and then grief and had to push that aside too, and now the fun week has passed and I have to face reality and I actually do not know how to get myself out of this one. Might be my moment for a complete nervous break.

[skinnypaleangryperson]

Bojack Horseman as a TV show attracts incredibly neurodivergent schizophrenics, mainly because:

1) it never had a conventional fandom in "Tumblr based forms" and other cliche stereotypes that usually come with popular pieces of media, leaving plenty of room for incredibly eccentric people like myself to fill up the space where there's usually a lot of incredibly neurotypical and cliche "tumblr type personalities" to fill up the space of sad psychological media that would make it up the energy online that would eventually detract or make it unattractive to schizophrenics or other incredibly nuanced people

2) The show itself has a tendency to attract people with severe depression and other mental disorders like a light bulb for f33ks that only speak a certain type of language that can only be found in about 3% of people