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hipsdofangirl · 11 days ago

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candy

seokmin x reader

summary: just a simple car ride back to the apartment—nothing special.

genre: idol au, fluff, established relationship, nighttime driving and serenading

notes: based on a sweet dream i had a couple nights ago…

wc: 663

not proofread

fresh air blasts through your hair, swishing between the outside of the window or behind the safety handle inside the car.

you glance down at the temperature displayed on the screen—68 (20) degrees; your stomach flutters, unable to comprehend the very early morning weather with warm welcoming temperatures.

you can’t help but giggle and extend your right arm out the car, your fingers stretching to touch the stars; high on energy, you can’t help but savor the moment.

while seokmin savored you.

as you outstretched your arm, seokmin glanced over at you for a split second, before focusing his attention on the road. he couldn’t focus for so long as every shine from your expressions shot across the console to him, like many meteors in a shower. even though the road demanded his attention—especially during the cold night—your presence beckoned him.

you hum along to the song, fingers sporadically flittering to try and dance to the song. seokmin giggles quietly, not wanting to interrupt; he wishes he could capture this moment, like you did for him one late night in the van, but his eyes and memory would have to do. he flicks his eyes in the rear view mirror, noticing your friends in the back passed out. he mentally thanks himself for being a decent driver to put everyone at ease.

the current song fades through the wind as a new one would soon begin. you retract your hand and use it as a head rest, and you languidly turn your phone around, curious to the next song playing from your phone.

the bass of joshua’s voice vibrates your body. immediately you lightly toss your phone to hide the screen—one of your boyfriend’s ’boyfriend photos’ that you declared should be gatekeeped.

with your eyes close, you lean more into the palm of your hand, following along and singing quietly.

on the other side, seokmin’s subtle muscle memory activated as he too began to sing quietly to the song.

once joshua’s part ended, seokmin’s voice gained traction, growing louder to perform his part. except—he looks over at you; watching you sway your head and unconsciously smile when dk’s part began. except—he didn’t have to perform when he was with you.

when jeonghan’s part began, seokmin never lessened his voice. instead, he slowly reached over to your lap, where your left hand rested methodically tapped against your phone case, to intertwine your hands.

your eyes widen at the contact. you flick your attention over to him as you lift your head.

his smile grew as seungkwan sang. together, you move your clasped hands to rest on top of the console. you move past your position from resting on the car door to now rest on the console—therefore him.

you couldn’t focus on woozi’s voice. not when seokmin’s gaze—although attentive to the road—only looked at you. you couldn’t look away—not when seokmin sings so gently; not when seokmin sings only for your ears to hear.

the chorus may have changed singers but seokmin always stayed with you. the air flowing inside the car and whirling between you two could never separate you two.

even when seokmin had to look away, it was never by choice. to reach back to him, you leaned further against the console, further to him. you titled your head towards him and closed your eyes, savoring the warm air and melody.

seokmin’s voice somehow gets louder, without increasing his volume. then you feel it: a slight weight on top your head. you feel his quiet exhales of words rest upon your forehead. even as he focuses on singing, focuses on driving, he anchors himself to you, loafing his head onto yours still bearing his own weight however.

he still sings. his eyes may have left but his soul won’t. not when the two of you slowly melt into each other’s embrace; as if pieces of candy was being left out in the sun, becoming one with each other due in time.

tags: @jcxbliss

a/n: dawg why did i write this like they died in the end???? i tried to tie it into the song’s meaning but it just got dark—i mean in my dream seokmin and i didn’t die. anyways just take my dream and run with it lolol

if you made it have a nice day/night!!

#seventeen x reader #seventeen #seventeen imagines #seventeen dk #seokmin x reader #dokyeom x reader #dk x reader #svt x reader #svt x you #seventeen x you #kpop x you #kpop x reader #kpop fanfic #kpop

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bambiesfics · 1 year ago

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𝐄. 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐬 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 ♥️’𝐬 𝐌*𝐥𝐟𝐬 ╰₊✧ ﾟ

Part Two — [FIND PART ONE HERE]

ˎˊ˗ SYNOPSIS: You’re a yummy, soft around the edges older lady, with a post-partum body that jiggles in the most delicious ways. Ellie simply can’t get ahold of herself, every time she sees you, her pupils turn into pretty pink hearts, and her clit thumps in rhythm with her beating heart.

ˎˊ˗ A/N: This is a re-upload of my series fic! Part one is already written. But this can be read as a stand-alone!

𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐆𝐆𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐘 𝐓𝐎 𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃. She was slammed with mental images of your puffy nipples, straining against that thin pink tank top, or the chubby crease of your ass, spilling out just past the hem of your denim shorts, how the back stitching was digging itself up into the crevice of your……

She shoved the heels of her palms into her eyes and bit her bottom lip hard. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth and teeth with a corrosive warmth. Her bottom lip was red, swollen and had teeth shaped impressions.

What the fuck was she doing here? What the actual fuck did she think she was doing sitting on the curb of the house right next to yours, like some teenage dirtbag? She rolled her eyes. Folding her boney knees up to her chest, to softly blow cold air on them.

It was the only thing that helped the pain, after the faint cuts and scrapes slashed across itched and burned. Each crusted over gash reminded Ellie of how stupid she looked tripping off her skateboard like some fucking peon, 2 hours earlier. And now she was here, decompressing on your goddamn doorway.

As she brushed some of the gravel off her shorts, she was assaulted with the violently embarrassing memories from the skate park. There was no way those assholes at the ramp were going to see her cry, but she wanted to, so bad. Her knees hurt like a motherfucker after she fucked up the landing on her wheelie, and she paid for it with a mouth full of dirt and knees slashed by rocks. Ellie would eat shit like a champ, every fucking time. No matter how bad it hurts.

She wasn’t a kid.

But she sure felt like one now that she was sitting here, ankles crossed and hugging her knees. Near your crib instead of back home, at hers, where she should’ve been. She wanted to tell herself it’s because yours was closer. But it wasn’t, she knew it wasn’t. And yet she was still comforted by the thought.

Her head swung in the direction of your home.

“Nother’ fucking neighbour.”

It was the 5th time it had happened in the past hour. Ellie was tired of cracking her neck to the side, trying to see which person opened their door to leave all for it to be fucking neighbour. And like the previous 4 times it had happened, it was typically some suburban asshole. Like a random dad taking out the trash in Birkenstocks. Likely a lazy fuck who waited for his wife to nag him to get it done. Or it was some brat taking their dog ‘Charlie’ or ‘Bella’ or fucking ‘Fido’ out to take a fat shit on the front lawn.

And again, not one of those people were you.

This is why Ellie’s hedonistic inclination to avoid addressing her feelings head on, but instead choosing to shroud them in convenient excuse after convenient excuse was ultimately, destructive. Because now, she was taking it out on random neighbors and you for ‘gatekeeping yourself’ away from her, while she waited. Probably doing some old lady shit right now like Pilates.

She groaned aloud.

‘Gatekeeping yourself’ isn’t even a fucking thing. Ellie was just in pain, hurt and angered; humiliated. She was mad, at no one in particular. But maybe, herself.

She wiped the fat tear that rested on the apple of her pink cheeks and blew air into her cupped palms. Blowing away the little bits of sediment and gravel that were still stuck there. She repeated the action on her knees, bracing the sharp sting.

She sniffled and leapt to her feet, ignoring the angry rage of pain in her knees, before she dropped the skateboard onto the gravel. Her foot slid on, ready to push off and just fuck off from this part of your neighborhood.

“Ellie!”

“Ellie is that you?”

Ellie stopped to stomp on the back of the deck and flip the board up into her hand. You were there peeking from behind the door, holding open the heavy wood with the side of your plush body. You sized her up as recognition bloomed on your face.

God is real.

If there was ever a time Ellie flirted with agnosticism, she was repenting for it while staring at you. Because at that very moment, God was real. Especially because Ellie knew she looked like a grimey piece of shit. She knew she was a runny, mascara-stained mess, with fucked up knees and fucked up posture. And yet you’re here. Supple, mature and womanly as ever looking at her like she’s some little doll. God, why were you waving her over? Stop. Stop crooking your finger like that, please, before she goons in her cargo shorts.

“H-hi I was just skating through the neighborhood and—.”

“Ellie, are you okay? How did that happen? You’re covered in cuts!”

“I’m fine, on god, I just..I…fucked up a trick. got a bunch of these stupid scrapes to show for it” She rubbed the back of her head, sheepish.

“Ellie, you should be more careful next time. Come ere.’”

Your sad pout made her stand straighter.

She wanted to fuck that pout off your face. Or maybe fuck it on your face. Like how sometimes, when girls are fuzzy brained during a painful but good pounding, they get this little look on their face. It’s all sad and pouty and shit.

What she would give for you to have that sad and pouty expression while she carved her cock in you. Choking out moans like…

“Ellie agh slow down!” or “Ellie m’ so full inside. You’re stretching me thin.” or better yet an “Ellie I’m so sore from last night. Be more careful next time..”

She could imagine the last one so vividly she nearly shuddered.

If it wasn’t obvious before, Ellie was a supreme pain slut.

She blinked the thoughts away, and brought her skateboard in front of her crotch. Not that she could get a boner, but it was reflexive at this point. Something she’d picked up from her friends when they would brick up everytime a pretty girl & her friends came to the park.

You closed the distance between you two and wrapped a hand around her fragile wrist to pulled her inside. Ushering her to the nearest kitchen stool to comfortably treat the painful

cuts and scrapes.

A little part of Ellie wondered if you would put your tits in her mouth for her to suckle on, if she whined hard enough for it. You were such a natural at being motherly, doting and worried. You were here in mid-day august, about to tend to some skaters girl’s dumb boo boos. While you probably had better things to do, like watch an episode of modern family, or prep dinner for your family.

She chuckled to herself. Then squeezed her thighs together. Slipping into a fantasy of you supporting her head, as she greedily nursed and suckled from you. Sucking out of each tit until both nipples grew shiny with her saliva and puffy from her greedy suction.

She blinked rapidly to pull herself from the fantasy, and deflated in the stool.

God, what a stupid fucking delusion.

She mewled in the base of her throat as you came back from the kitchen, with a first aid kit in tow. You settled between her knees, gripping the crook of one knee to gently dab pats of alcohol. She winced and grit her teeth, breathing through the fire of the sting. But her pink face and shiny eyes betrayed her weak facade, and your heart ached. Poor baby girl, all you could do was whisper earnest sorry’s in between each dab.

As you nearly finished bandaging the raw skin, you peered up at her, seeing the way her brows knitted up and how she trapped her bottom lip beneath her teeth. Maybe it was the innate motherly instinct, but you felt the urge to kiss the little forehead wrinkles away, and stroke her hair until she was less tense. Despite your nerves, you cleared your throat. “Ellie what were you really doing out there all alone, hmm?”

Her cheeks reddened like a hasbro toy truck. Flaming fucking red, like how Jesse loved to describe it.

“I was at the skatepark with some twink—guys… I usually shred with. But I got winded so I took a rest top…on your lawn.”

“A rest stop huh?” You teased.

The excuse sounded like cheap shit even to her own ears but it was the best thing she could come up with in the moment, with the way you looked so worried. She was just grateful you didn’t notice her about to call her bestfriend a twink. Ellie didn’t want a lecture about bigotry from you, because judging by how clueless you’d been when it came to her attraction to you. That guaranteed you were also clueless about her being a raging dyke.

Ellie whistled “So uh..where’s your kid?”

“At grandma’s.”

Vague. She thought.

“My mother said she’d been wanting to babysit for a while now. So I decided to give myself a little time alone to enjoy the time being, I suppose.”

“I suppose?” God you were a

relic. No one born after the 2000’s speaks like that.

She mused.

“Ah, that’s so hot.” Ellie muttered, seconds before realization hit her and a deeper blush bloomed wildfire on her face. It was becoming increasingly humiliating to speak to older adults like they were her little fruitcake punk friends. You were a proper woman, not a scumbag. Ellie knew her lexicon needed a significant change if she hoped you’d ever take her seriously.

You laughed at her silliness, and patted her knee before walking away to store the first aid kit back in the kitchen. With each resounding thud of your footsteps

Ellie couldn’t help but drink in the way the ripple of your robe outlined your ass. The way the milky, thin fabric practically outlined the dark line that split both globes right in the…

She put her knuckle between her teeth and bit down. God she needed to leave.

You looked back to smile at her. But she was doing it again, not meeting your eyes. Matter of fact her gaze was somewhere else, and your stomach flipped because of it. Her bangs were curled beautifully around her face, and her lips were parted open, she wheezed each breath.

You reached up into the cabinet, to gently place the kit back, and dropped back onto the balls of your feet. Your buttcheeks jiggled with the drop. And you saw her bury a cough into her hand from your peripheral vision. Ellie crossed her ankles together and clamped them there.

Picking up the tray of ginger snap cookies you’d laid out for guests, you walked back towards her. Holding them out for her to take home. Ellie didn’t meet your eyes. Or your face. She pointedly looked at the letter magnets on the fridge.

She blinked rapidly. “Can I just…can I just use your bathroom really quick?”

“Yeah of course, it’s just up those stairs behind you. First door on your left.”

Ellie gave a wobbly attempt at a smile and scrambled off the seat. She stomped two steps at a time up the stairs, a habit she formed when she was a younger teen, she couldn’t break.

She flicked the lights on and took note of the spa-like ambience in your bathroom. The soft shell coloring and warm lighting. The bathroom smelled like you, like your clothes whenever she got real close to you.

She also wondered if you smelled like that down there too. If the scent of your body wash lingered on the inner lips of your vulva. If she split the lips apart, would she get hit with a whiff of your natural musk? Or the floral scent of peonies? She really needed to know.

She also knew she was a pervert.

But she couldn’t help it, you don’t even know how desirable you are, and you weren’t even trying. You were some sweet milf in an average ass fuck suburban neighbourhood, who was making a teen girl go fucking balls-to-the-walls insane to breed you.

Locking the bathroom door, Ellie shoved her low rise cargo shorts and boxers down her hips and dipped two fingers to play in her wetness. She shoved her right finger into her mouth to stimulate the prod of a nipple into her mouth as she ghosted a hesitant left finger over the supple skin of her pussy lips. Teasing the pleasure she was about to feel once she just split them open and rubbed the bundled nub. She sucked a whistling breath through her teeth and tipped her head back against the wall. It lolled to the side.

That’s when she saw it.

Lacy, bunched up, and barely enough fabric to even floss teeth with, was the lavender thong you left neglected in the corner of the bathroom floor. Probably from the shower you freshly took before you met her outside.

She shouldn’t.

But fuck, she did.

Ellie scrambled for your underwear and pulled it apart. Searching for the spot she wanted most. The light reflected against the gentle shininess in the crotch, and she ran the pads of her fingers gently against the crotch, feeling the clear stickiness still left over from earlier.

Stuffing it against her nose she did the very thing that would probably get her put on some type of sex offender registry if you ever found out.

Ellie took a big sniff, and then another, and then another, and then several more until she was high on your scent. The sound in the bathroom was disgustingly wet as Ellie rubbed and slapped her clit over and over. Inching her fingers down to her hole to shallowly thrust and collect some slick before dragging them up again to add slipperiness along her slit. Confined within the walls of your small bathroom were the wet and messy sounds of a girl, getting herself off to your scent. And it confirmed her hopes, this was all your own scent, natural and musky.

Your underwear was permanently pressed up against her caramel freckled nose as she inhaled. She picked up her pace, going from rubbing over her wet clit to tapping and lightly pinching it.

Ellie was a pain slut.

Ellie kept up her feverish actions. And let the degenerate fantasy of rimming your asshole, licking the sweat off of the hole, on her knees, while you prepared some mid-day snacks, tip her gaping pussy hole to orgasm.

“Mommy play with me.” she whimpered pathetically.

God she was twisted.

She came all over her inner thighs. And pearlescent cum rolled down in droplets towards the porcelain of your toilet.

Using your toilet paper, she hastily cleaned herself and pulled her boxers back up.

The mental debate didn’t last any longer than 5 seconds before she shoved your panties into her back pocket and washed her hands. There was no point in her entertaining otherwise, she knew she was a degenerate.

Ellie ran straight down the stairs, the acrid feel of humiliation scratching up the back of her throat and making her head hot. She selfishly snatched a cookie off the flower dessert tray and kicked her deck into her hand.

“Ellie! Wait I got you a snack to take ho-“

She ran out the door and slammed the door aggressively. The glass pane in the window of the door shook for several seconds.

She was erratic.

But then the same door burst open again, and the antsy brunette ran back inside, stomped towards you and smashed her lips against yours. Slotting her lips inside yours and sucking your bottom lip into her mouth. Her hands came up nervously to grip the fat of your ass. Letting some spill between her spindly fingers. Massaging it.

Ellie kissed like a horny boy. When she pulled back, you wobbled into her. She caught you around the waist and let your heaving chests sync together.

But as if she gained sudden consciousness, an awareness of what the fuck she was doing, her eyes expanded wide, and her back went ramrod straight.

She took several steps back and ushered out “Why did I just fucking?—Oh God.”

She ran. She ran so fucking fast she forget she even had the skateboard in her hand. And pounded canvas sneaker to gravel all the way home.

Ellie didn’t know what type of disorder she developed that made her mind blank out, sexually assaulting hot milfs because she couldn’t mitigate a crush on a woman to save her life. But she needed to google a local psychiatrist's office and see how long the waitlist was.

Your mental state on the other hand? Yeah you were left speechless by the brash behavior of the little tomboy. Her aggression, perverted looks and obviously inappropriate feelings towards you left you breathless and reeling.

It could’ve been because it was technically legal, that Ellie thought it appropriate to attempt that sudden kiss. But that clearly didn’t mean it was a sound decision to encourage any kind of relationship. Jesus, did the girl think she was in a porno or something? That you were going to invite her upstairs and screw her brains out, hide her in the closet when your “husband” came back home too early?

There were a million and one thoughts going through your head. Yet every time you tried to plan an appropriate way to address what had happened, your mind was drawing nothing but blanks. And it followed you like that, all the way into the evening. Long after Ellie had ran out, long after you’d said goodnight to your toddler on the phone. And long after the sun had set, after the street lights turned on.

In the thick of the night, you shoved your favorite mini bullet deep until it was snuggled between your sticky pussy lips, warmed by the hug. You’d been vigorously searching for porn videos like “brunette x milf lesbian porn.” And “younger girl x milf lesbian porn.”

The vibrator buzzed on top of your clit, slinging pleasure up your spine while you humped against it. You rolled a chubby nipple between your fingers, and pulled at your tit so hard your nipple ached painfully.

“Nnngnnh” you had to squeeze your hole over and over.

You shakily clicked on a video, a bedroom scene where the babysitter pervertedly creeped on the mother as she undressed, and got off to it. You had an urge to cry, mounted by pleasure. You moaned a sob “Ell-lie.”

A rivulet of drool slipped out from your gaping lips and pooled at the sheets. You watched the brunette pervert turn the milf into a begging slut, pleading to not be fucked like a little whore. And the young one fucked her agressively anyway. Your head was fuzzy. You’d never been so turned on by a video.

You replaced the face of every scene with the brunette with the face of Ellie. With her freckles, plump lips and her tattooed arm.

You just closed your eyes and let the video tip you to a full body orgasm. Your hole was gaping and sucking in air, contracting around nothing for most of the night. Hungry to have some sweaty little girl plug them up with her tongue, or her fingers. For her to stretch the skin there around something, until it was thin. You slept the whole night as your hole gulped in air in search of something to plug it with.

You were going to find that little runt. Drag her back there and have a conversation with her about forcing a kiss on older women, then leaving her to deal with it in a puddle of their own slick.

-fin-

Requested Taglist: @elliewilliamsgf69 , @thesevi0lentdelights , @aouiaa , @endureher , @dangthatsareallyreallylongname5 , @elsbbg , @emilieebabyy , @seattlesellie , @coeurify , @elliesflower

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makethosenarratorsfight · 1 year ago

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UNRELIABLE NARRATORS; SIDE C

*NOTE; propaganda is out of order due to poll length!

Eugenides Propaganda:

the entire plot hinges on a detail he lets the reader (and every other character) assume is true. I don't want to spoil it because it's a really fun reveal but he is lying from the first second he appears on the page and you can't trust him to tell the full truth about ANYTHING related to himself and his goals. he mostly does it to keep his advantage and not have other characters be suspicious of him but it's just so fun when you realise he's been lying the whole time

Harrowhark Propaganda:

She gave herself a lobotomy and gives completely incorrect flashbacks to the previous book. Things that straight up did not happen. Gaslight gatekeep girlboss.

She’s schizophrenic (confirmed by the author) and also lives in a world with necromancy and ghostly revenants. She’s not just an unreliable narrator for readers, she’s an unreliable narrator of her own internal experience. She knows this and has to work with people around her to compensate for it. Descent into spoilerville below. Seriously Do Not Read if you want to read these books. There’s also the little matter about how she is *not actually the narrator* of a huge chunk of the story that we are initially led to believe is being told from her perspective.

(Spoilers) Holy shit she is THE most unreliable narrator. This gremlin gave herself a lobotomy so that she could forget about Gideon Nav, the most important person in her life (for magic soul-preserving reasons) so half of the second book in the series is spent gaslighting the reader about a book they just read. She comes up with an entire alternate version of the events of the first book in the series to carefully exclude any mentions of Gideon, and any time someone says ‘Gideon’ in front of her she LITERALLY has a stroke and/or an intercranial hemorrhage as her brain overwrites the word with someone else’s name. God occasionally intentionally triggers her memory revision to get out of difficult conversations. She also hallucinates ALL the time (unrelated to the lobotomy). She shows up at her frenemy’s room in the middle of the night (think little kid stumbling to their parents’ room and saying “I frew up”) to ask her to come check underneath her bed for the corpse that’s been wandering the space station. When frenemy checks underneath the bed, frenemy claims not to see anything, and Harrow is such an unbelievably unreliable narrator that it’s an open question in the fandom as to whether frenemy genuinely didn’t see the corpse or if frenemy was just yanking Harrow’s chain. Harrow is also haunted by a literal ghost that fucks up her already fucked up alternate history. Girlie will pick up a piece of paper and read from it the most violent and haunting piece of prose ever composed, when in reality all that’s written on the paper is the elementary school Superman S*. I am NOT joking that is a real goddamn scene. Harrow was created to win this poll. TLDR; she has brain damage and memory loss, she hallucinates, and is also haunted. * https://twitter.com/vestenet/status/1301012651145859072

Girl is so unreliable, she unreliably tells me events I was there for!!! She's retelling the previous book and I'm like "girlie, this is absolutely not how it happened". Also, she gave herself a DIY lobotomy, it has to impact your memory center I guess

She literally had a lobotomy, how can she be reliable

More Propaganda under cut!

Harrowhark is simply the unreliable narrator of all time. Can’t remember shit because of a lifetime of trauma? Check. Maybe lying to yourself and those around you a bit? Most definitely. Being gaslit by the survivors you depend on to orient you to reality? For sure. How about a little bit of canon schizophrenia? She’s got it all. Ghosts? Or something? Spirits that are attached in some way to your body and are not perceivable by others? Sure, sure! But how about spirits that are attached in some way to your body and are gonna use you to hijack others’ bodies and maybe kill God, too? Absolutely. Wee bit of DIY brain surgery? If it would make you an unreliable narrator, friends, then Harrowhark Nonagesimus has been there, been subjected to that!

Okay I don't know that much about this series since I haven't convinced myself to read all of the first book, but this is my blorbo in law so I'd feel bad not spreading propaganda (all of what I'm saying is something I've read, as to prevent myself from straight up submitting misinformation). So all of Harrow's unreliable narration takes place in the second book, Harrow the Ninth. Basically, without her even seemingto acknowledge it, Harrow's brain is very fucked up during this book, to the point where even she's not sure how reliable her narrative is. There's many questions left unclear as a result of her fucked up little brain, like what's real, what's fake, whether we can trust her judgement, whether even she can trust her own judgement, whether her original cavalier is dead or not (Harrow is convinced she is), etc. Let me tell you, I adore unreliable narrators who aren't even that sure if they're reliable. I have yet to eat that trope up here in this circumstance, but this poll might not run again by the time I do, so for now, here's my messed up blorbo in law.

OKAY SO REMEMBER MY GIDEON SUBMISSION? HARROW DOESN’T! SPOILERS AHEAD BECAUSE SHE LOBOTOMIZED HERSELF TO FORGET GIDEON BECAUSE THAT’S A HEALTHY WAY TO GRIEVE AND THEN IN THE ONLY PARTS OF HER BOOK THAT SHE NARRATES (THE REVISED CANAAN HOUSE PARTS) IT’S LITERALLY A ROOM FULL OF GHOSTS HER BRAIN SUMMONED TO DEAL WITH THE FACT THAT SHE CUT HER BRAIN IN HALF TO FORGET GIDEON. she also is a) haunted and b) psychotic, experiencing hallucinations her entire life of both the ghosts haunting her and less supernatural hallucinations- bells tolling, bones rattling, her parents (some of the only dead people NOT haunting her), etc! in the revised history of canaan house that her brainghosts invent, she brings along someone who knows about her psychosis to help reality check her when she tells him go! her caregiver as a child and support when she got older, crux, is a horrible man- but at one point, when someone other than harrow is in harrow’s body and tells him “i am not harrowhark, i am sorry,” his response is simply “aye, you’ve said that before too. who are you then, if not my lady harrowhark?” showing his familiarity with her psychosis and his love for the child he wouldn’t dare see as a daughter. but enough about that lets talk about her unreliable narration! she lies about her feelings of course but she also simply hides the truth from everyone, all the time, compulsively. also literally the entire section of her book that she narrates is a lie she’s telling US about a lie she’s telling HERSELF and no one understands even a little bit of the truth until like the last act of the book. queen.

#eugenides #the queens thief #queens thief #harrowhark #harrowhark nonagesimus #harrow the ninth #unreliable narrator battle #unreliable narrators #polls #side c

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wsdanon · 7 months ago

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i feel like this will be quite niche, mostly because i'm not sure how many ordem fans are in my sphere but also because it's not about the main cast lol

but below the cut is an osnf fic \o/! many spoilers for that season. it's based on a canon divergent au me and @factorialsotherfandoms came up with and this one in particular involves the helper and the gatekeeper!

also below the cut for anyone who hasn't seen ordem but is curious about the fic is a brief summary of some world-building elements that will help with understanding the fic \o/ but not the plot because that will take too long lol

reblogs appreciated \o/!! hope you guys enjoy

brief worldbuilding stuff: the helper and the gatekeeper are from a town called santo berço which was a seemingly perfect town apart from the fact that the people are brainwashed to some degree into wanting to stay there and there's a parasite (the saint/a god) feeding on some of them. everyone in the town uses their work titles as their names, and they have an alien-ish appearance (Luzidio) but can switch into a human appearance (Ignaro) at will. the crystals mentioned are healing crystals that have the ability to knock people out if ingested. i can't explain buttery butter. blame felps for this creation

The Helper stands in front of the mirror, his Ignaro form staring back. Technically he doesn’t need to be in it right now, but he’ll need to get used to it eventually, so… he’s practicing.

The eyes are maybe the strangest bit about it. They feel smaller. The familiar blackness now shrunk down and encased by other colours—brown and white.

He leans closer to the mirror and pokes at his cheek where his markings would be. Maybe if he looks close enough he’ll still be able to see the faint shadow of them—

“Why are you acting like it’s new?” The Gatekeeper says. “You’ve seen this form before.”

The Helper jumps at the sudden appearance of his voice, and spins around to face him. He doesn’t like having people behind him anymore—an alien distrust crawling through his body at even the thought of it.

“I know, I’m just… getting used to it. You know?” He shrugs, and tries to force himself to relax. “I never used to use it much before, but now it’s going to be pretty much constant, right?”

“That’s true.”

Cautiously, the Gatekeeper drifts closer. They don’t have the crystals anymore, and he’s not holding a weapon so it should be fine.

Really, he wishes his brain would stop thinking so hard about it. He’s one of the few people who actually managed to survive and that was because of the Gatekeeper.

It’s just…

It’s hard to put the memory out of his mind of the Gatekeeper approaching him with a knife and wrestling crystals into his mouth.

“It is strange.” The Gatekeeper admits with a small smile as he stops close in front of him. “I only ever saw you like this when we were messing around.”

“And you went on lots of Pilgrimages, right?” The Helper says, knocking their shoulders together gently with a smile that doesn’t quite feel real crossing his face. He doesn’t like it, but no attempts at widening the smile make it feel realer. “So you’re probably dealing fine, huh?”

“Eh…” The Gatekeeper shrugs. “With this, yeah.”

He’s in his Luzidio form now. It’s nice. A tiny bit of familiarity to cling onto.

“What if we lose it?” The Gatekeeper continues, something nervous seeping into his tone.

“What?” The Helper tilts his head, eyebrows furrowing. “What do you mean?”

“This form.” He points to himself. “We only had this because of the Saint’s influence. What if we lose it now?”

“Well, we—“ He cuts himself off as the full implications hit him, a hollow feeling settling into his chest. It’s uncomfortable. He never used to feel this way in Santo Berço, but now it’s almost all he can feel. “We—We get used to it, I guess.”

The Gatekeeper reaches a hand up—slowly, but the Helper can’t help but flinch away a little. All he does, though, is settle it onto his cheek. Doesn’t try to pry his mouth open. Doesn’t try to force the anaesthesia down his throat.

“You should, uh…” The Gatekeeper shifts his thumb to line up with where the Helper’s markings would be. Presses down firmly, but not enough to hurt. “You should get them tattooed.”

“Okay.” This smile feels a little more real. “Would you?”

“Ah, maybe.” He shrugs. “I’m still not… sure how I feel about, uh, all of it.”

“I like them.” The Helper brings a finger up to trace down one before letting it drop to his side again. “I’d miss them.”

“O-Okay.” The Gatekeeper looks away, his cheeks darkening. “Maybe for you, then.”

The Helper frowns. He misses Santo Berço. Misses the simplicity of it. Everything out here just feels like a mess—the selfish desire to keep at least one thing the same, versus the guilt of forcing the Gatekeeper to do something he doesn’t particularly want to do.

“Only if it’s for you, too.” He tries another smile. “From what you’ve said, it sounds like it’s about time you do things for yourself, hm?”

The Gatekeeper is still cupping his cheek, so he can feel the moment his hands start shaking. He wonders if they shook when he spilled his blood to fake his death.

“I…” His voice cracks. He drops his hand from the Helper’s face so he can wrap him in a tight hug instead. “I’m so glad you’re here. My god, I’m so glad you’re here, Helper, I… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

The Helper hugs him back.

“It’s okay. Everything’s okay now.”

For a while they stand there. The Gatekeeper isn’t quite crying, but he is trembling in the Helper’s arms—murmuring things that he can’t make out, but are probably apologies.

When he pulls away he doesn’t go far. And he’s still trembling a little—his eyes shiny with unshed tears—but he seems more put together than he was a moment ago.

“I’ll—I’ll figure out how to make buttery butter, okay?” The Gatekeeper promises.

“Oh, how cool!” For the first time since they got here, a spark of excitement ignites in him. “We can all experiment together! I’m sure we’ll get it right eventually, you know?”

“Hopefully.” The Gatekeeper sends him a watery smile. “I just—I know how much you like it. You did always say it was the best part of Santo Berço.”

That was when he still had Santo Berço. When he didn’t have to miss it. But the sentiment is sweet, and he is clawing for any scrap of familiarity.

For the Collector and the Nurse it isn’t so bad, he thinks. As much as they might miss it, they know what it’s like to live without it. All they’ll need is a readjustment period.

The Gatekeeper is in his boat, but it’s different. He’s always hated Santo Berço—apparently. And he’s probably been on enough Pilgrimages to understand how the world outside is.

“Thank you.” It’s worth being optimistic, though. “I think between the four of us we’ll get close!”

“We will.” The Gatekeeper declares—an intensity to him that the situation doesn’t really require. “I promise.”

They should maybe talk about that. The devotion he feels for them.

The Helper knows the Nurse doesn’t like it. He’s aware of her wariness every time the Gatekeeper is around. But they all saw the fates of the people still connected to the Saint, and the Helper finds it difficult to hate his friend for his original plan.

He doesn’t want to open up the discussion and find out she has a reason to still be worried, though. It’s a strange enough thing to know your friend would kill you to prevent your suffering. To not be able to shake the fear that came with the certainty you were about to die by his hands.

He doesn’t want it to be made worse. He’s lost too much to lose the Gatekeeper now.

“Come on.” The Helper says, nudging the Gatekeeper into action. “The Nurse said you should be resting, and you know she knows what she’s talking about.”

“If you could say that with less infatuation in your voice I’d be more inclined to believe you, you know?” The Gatekeeper says teasingly. “But you’re right—she’s right—I am tired. Maybe you could carry me?”

The Gatekeeper had collapsed when the Saint was killed. Dropped like a stone before any of them could catch him. It wasn’t as worrying as bursting into flames, but it was still terrifying.

The Helper had carried him to safety. Held on tightly to him—almost afraid he’d disappear in front of him, just like his dad had.

“Yeah, okay.”

And then he scoops him up.

It’s as easy to carry him as last time, but this time feels nicer. Less terrifying. Instead of being limp and unconscious in his arms, the Gatekeeper clings back to him immediately—his eyes widening in shock.

The Helper laughs. The Gatekeeper clearly wasn’t expecting the request to be taken seriously, but he doesn’t complain or ask to be put down and it’s—it’s nice.

It’s a short walk to the spare room, but the Gatekeeper is already dozing off. He lays him down in bed gently, but the Gatekeeper grabs his arm before he can leave.

“Wait, can you—can you stay?” He asks, his voice shaky with something the Helper would label as fear. “Please? Just until I fall asleep.”

“Okay.”

He was going to wait up until the Nurse got back from her shift, but that won’t be for a few more hours.

So, he gets into bed, but doesn’t lay down��unwilling to tempt sleep. Just sits there and lets the Gatekeeper curl up against him. It’s a bit of a tight fit, but he doesn’t mind. The closeness is nice, actually.

“Goodnight.” He cards a hand through the Gatekeeper’s hair. Like this, it’s hard to imagine he could be capable of murder. “Sleep well.”

“Thank you. Goodnight.”

The Gatekeeper falls asleep quickly, but the Helper doesn’t leave yet. It’s peaceful. And it wouldn’t hurt to keep an eye on the Gatekeeper’s health.

The Nurse had said he’ll probably need more time to recover than them, but she had also asked the Helper to tell her if he seemed to be getting worse.

He was his dad’s assistant before the Blacksmith’s, after all. And while he definitely doesn’t have the knack for it that the Nurse does, he thinks he could at least figure out if she needs to reassess his condition.

But the Gatekeeper seems fine for now, and he has a couple of hours to kill. So, he grabs the book on the bedside table that the Gatekeeper’s been reading through and starts reading it himself.

hope you guys enjoyed \o/!! i'm happy to talk more about the au's details if anyone's curious

#wsd/f.ics

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fictionkinfessions · 3 months ago

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no anon here wo! anxious. but simply here to spread some positivity!!

it doesn’t matter if you have canon memories or not. If you’re spiritual, physiological, etc etc. it doesn’t matter why or what caused you to realize you are a fictionkin. If you kin your Ocs, canon characters, or AUs.. you are valid! And you should be welcomed! It does not matter if you have many or little, you are welcome! I’ve been personally seeing a couple of odd gatekeep-y things recently and want everyone to know you are valid in this space

to fictives, I am not a system myself! I am friends with quite a few but I can’t speak on what you all go through. But no matter your source, no matter if you are connected to it or not, I hope you are doing well and that you are always welcome. You are valid! I sincerely hope the best for you all

I’ll be honest, these spaces can get quite toxic at times. But it’s one of my favorite communities. There are such a variety of people, even if I don’t fully agree with some of the people I meet. Discovering what fictionkinning was made me so happy and I can’t thank this community enough for how much it has helped me, even if I don’t personally interact often! As long as you aren’t hurting anyone, keep being unapologetically you!

also a very much thank you to the mod(s?)!! You probably have to deal with quite a lot but it’s very appreciated! Especially with rude confessions ( remember to be respectful to the mods guys, and to read rules ).

this is too long and I’ve used !! too many times,, but I wish everyone a nice day/night

#fictionkinfessions #fictionkin #dustyashess #chara love #fictive #community issue #gatekeeping cw #mod party cat

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zerostyrant · 3 months ago

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TW for semi graphic depictions of cannibalistic behaviors!!

Butcher Vanity - Vane Lily, Jamie Paige, ricedeity

Toki was abandoned and left to fend for himself at a very young age. He has no real memory of his parents, if he was genetically modified, or if he was bred for any purpose. All he remembers is the howling pit in his stomach.

He’s… always hungry. Nothing satisfies his stomach. He’s learned to deal with it as he grew older, even if it got more difficult once he was taken to ANAKT Garden. His current guardian found him hunched over a dead body, gnawing flesh off the bone of the poor human soul who didn’t stand a chance against a starving thirteen-year-old. The alien that found him was put off by the crude sight, to say the least, but it persisted and took the child away.

Toki went down with a fight. He bit, clawed, and scratched at the alien who took him from his meal, only to be drugged and subdued, eventually put in a collar. His guardian made sure to put his cannibalistic tendencies on his file, so that he can be closely monitored around his classmates.

His start at ANAKT Garden was rocky, and he was incredibly rebellious. He would constantly get into fights, leaving the other person with bloody bite marks and deep scratches. This led to him being muzzled 24/7 and treated more like a misbehaving pet than any of the other human-pets. This is around the time he realized that he won’t get what he wants if he doesn’t behave.

It was also around the time he befriended Innamorati, another student in his class. A boy with light blue hair and royal blue eyes. Toki found him pretty, to say the least, but he liked him more because of his blind kindness. If Inna knew what Toki did, or what he does, he clearly doesn’t care and sees past it.

Inna has drawn things for Toki. He keeps all the drawings Inna gives him and puts them all over the walls next to his bed. He’s not allowed to have a roommate, nor is any student allowed to be alone in Toki’s room with him, so there’s no one to complain about him hanging up Inna’s art. (Inna doesn’t know Toki does this btw)

Inna also taught Toki how to dance, which is where he found his love for it. He loves dancing, even more so with Inna.

Issues start to arise once again whenever he becomes aware of Macbeth’s presence. Whenever he becomes aware of… everyone’s presence. He sees other people playing and interacting with Inna and can’t help but feel anger towards these people. Inna should have his eyes on Toki.

But Toki behaves. He decides to go the route of studying people. He studies Inna the most, obviously, but he also studies the people he talks to. He learns what makes them tick, what’s special to them, and their mannerisms. He learns to smile and entertain people to get as much information as possible. It even helps him get on the good side of his guardian and earn his label as a good pet. Once he knows enough about another person, he turns everyone onto them. He frames, backstabs, blackmails, and gaslights. (gaslight gatekeep girlboss yk)

His first victim was Macbeth, and now no one likes Macbeth. He knew a lot of people already didn’t like them very much, but the things Toki did to make Inna hate them was enough to get everyone to hate them. Toki sees the poor thing sit and sulk in a corner, closed off and ignoring anyone and everything. He feels no pity.

All he feels is his love for Inna, and the still, slow growing, pit in his stomach. Maybe Inna can satiate his hunger.

But maybe not… Rabbits aren’t meant to be predators, so he’ll continue playing prey.

☆

Other fun things to note!!

Toki is toxic as hell with so many red flags... Inna is colorblind /j

Cannibal!! ...willingly

Obsessive and possessive personality

Severe lack of empathy

Semi black and white thinking

Ridiculously manipulative

With his obsession over Inna, he can still have friends and does enjoy others' company, but he ultimately turns on them if they get in the way of him and Inna.

He would only let Inna have friends if they were friends with Toki, too

Toki's name means rabbit in Korean!! "토끼" "Tokki" (hehe there is a specific meaning for this :3)

Naturally pretty flexible, does a lot of stretching before bed and in the mornings. In a modern/actor au, he'd have a background of childhood gymnastics.

Sits in some really strange and compromising positions... (my little pretzel <3)

I make playlists for all my OCs across many fandoms, and Toki is no exception. His playlist is already done and it is here:

At the top of each lore post will be a song from the playlist that I feel fits the post :3

☆

Innamorati/Inna and Macbeth belong to @alien-til-i-stage !!! hii pookie :3

#ITS LORE TIME BABYYYYY #TOKI LOREERE #hehehehehehehehe #alien stage #alien stage oc #alien stage oc: toki #alnst #alien stage oc: innamorati #alien stage ocs #inki #alien stage oc: macbeth #Spotify

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korasonata · 2 years ago

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Headcanon about the Life Series members remembering whichever season they won, but it also extends to their partners in varying degrees.

Grian won 3rd Life, so he remembers that season fully. He was partnered with Scar, so Scar ALSO remembers, but Scar didn’t WIN, so he doesn’t remember quite as clearly. There’s gaps in his memory, but he remembers some things. He remembers Grian, bits and pieces of their life together. He remembers Monopoly Mountain, and he remembers fire. He remembers leading Grian through the desert on a llama, but he doesn’t remember how the two had come to be partnered. He remembers Pizza, and he remembers a grave, but he doesn’t remember how they died. He remembers a pond, a sacrifice, a promise. He remembers a cactus ring, and he remembers Grian covered in blood, and he remembers the words “I’m sorry” spoken from his own lips like a broken sob, and then he remembers pain. So much pain…

Scott won Last Life, but he was partnered with Pearl and Cleo. Scott remembers fully. Cleo and Pearl, like Scar, only remember fragments. Pearl remembers Scott the clearest. She remembers holding his hand and staring into his eyes. She remembers the house they shared and their walls filled with lava. She doesn’t remember the circumstances that had led Cleo to them, but she remembers the woman holding her in her arms. She vaguely remembers someone shooting at her, a dark figure that was familiar and not. She remembers Cleo covered in arrows, the woman stooping down to hold her, to soothe her, and she remembers feeling scared and yet…safe. Protected.

Cleo doesn’t remember her time in the Fairy Fort, but she remembers BigB, a knife in her back, a sense of betrayal, a burning forest. And she remembers Pearl and Scott taking her in. She remembers Scott giving her a life, she remembers Pearls dance floor. She remembers Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss. She gets very vague flashes of this person she doesn’t recognize. A woman with pink hair on a path, running away from her. She thinks the woman afraid of her, has very vague memories of herself wanting the woman to be afraid of her, although she doesn’t know why. She thinks she remembers being angry, but above all else, she remembers being sad.

Pearl won Double Life, and by extension Scott. But Scott was partnered with Cleo. Who was ALSO kind of bound to Martyn. Scott remembers the most. He remembers Cleo, obviously, but he also remembers a red cloak and a lone wolf. He remembers Pearl, but not why he had left her to start with. He doesn’t remember that he was the reason that she had become the Scarlet Witch. He remembers feeling bitter, and he remembers feeling resentment. He remembers cold. So much cold. He remembers a dying Cleo, and he remembers TNT. He remembers a self sacrifice.

The only thing Cleo remembers is wolves. Hundreds of wolves chasing her, like a recurring nightmare that keeps her awake every night. Wolves and a single flash of scarlet like a streak of blood through the trees. Aside from this, Cleo gets feelings. Like when you recognize the face of a stranger on the street but you don’t know their name or where you might recognize them from, but you just know you’ve met them before. She functions off of vibes, and for reasons she can’t explain she tends to know when someone is lying to her or when someone is untrustworthy. She remembers Scott vaguely, but doesn’t really know the full extent of their relationship, only that he feels comfortable and familiar. Like an old friend she had once knew.

Martyn also gets feelings, but in reverse. Like a completely random sense of de ja vu that seems to not make any sense to him at all. Unlike Cleo who might see a random stranger on the street and recognize their face, he has no recognition of anything. Like passing someone whom he does not know or recognize and then suddenly getting a “this has happened before” vibe. He might see flashes of the person, but he doesn’t connect that they are the same. Every now and then he’ll be out with his friends laughing and joking around and then out of the blue he’ll start to feel lonely, even when surrounded by the people he loves, and he can’t pinpoint why.

Martyn wins Limited Life, and by extension Scott. Scott remembers water and coral, hundreds of sea creatures swimming through the ocean. He remembers Martyn. Remembers begging the man to kill him, but not why. He has very vague memories of Cleo in this, him giving her time, but not much else. He remembers an army chasing him, and he remembers a fall. And then he remembers water again. He has vague memories of alliances turned bad, and he remembers Martyn threatening those who would cause him harm. He remembers feeling loved, and then he remembers betrayal. He remembers Martyn standing over him with a sword, but for the life of him, he cannot remember ever seeing it coming.

#trafficblr #3rd life #last life #double life #limited life #Grian #goodtimeswithscar #dangthatsalongname #scott smajor #pearlescentmoon #zombiecleo #zombie cleo #inthelittlewoods #martyn inthelittlewood #life series

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gaslightgatekeepgirlbosscombat · 1 year ago

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Group A, Round 1, Poll 4:

Propaganda under the cut

Azula

Personal gain and because she was gaslit herself.

100% pure girlboss. So good at lying and manipulating that the magic human lie detector can’t figure her out. Gatekeeps her father’s “love” from her brother

Azula was considered a prodigy in firebending at a young age. And she manipulates and plots to get what she wants.

They (gas)lit stuff on fire, gatekeeped the avatar from the Fire Nation, and girlbossed all the way into insanity

Akane Kurashiki

Zero Escape spoilers! Akane Kurashiki is dead. Died in an incinerator as a child. But she's right here, isn't she? She's talking about mummies and the Titanic and I'm holding her in my arms. But also she's Zero, mastermind who trapped us here and threatened our lives. That guy literally just exploded. But Akane couldn't have done that, she's so sweet and she's so scared. Also she's dead? But wait, she's right here, and she has a fever again.

lied to a group of ppl including her childhood bestie so they'd enter a death game she planned, she's so funny. also later planned another death game to save the earth etc

GASLIGHT: - Lies to everyone and pretends to just be an innocent quirky girl when in reality, she is the mastermind behind the situation everyone has been put in. - Pretends to be sad and concerned when the bastard who almost killed her pretends to do a heroic sacrifice to get everyone's sympathy. - Pretends she's put bombs inside everyone's stomachs. Really, she only put bombs inside the people she wants revenge on. - Pretends that she and her brother aren't related. - Erases her fiancé's memories and makes him forget he proposed to her so she can go to the moon and stop the outbreak of an apocalyptic virus without him getting in the way. - Puts herself into a schrodinger's cat situation where she's both living and dead until you decide what door to walk through. - Manipulates her way into a Mars mission program. - Makes a guy think he is 45 years younger than he actually is. - Pretends she is going to stab two people to force them back in time. - Manipulates a child into participating in his father's research so he can act as a spare if necessary. GATEKEEP: - A psychic who gains near omniscience in some circumstances, but refuses to explain snything unless it suits her plans. - Says ""Only God decides who lives and dies!"" But she kills several people. Perhaps only God and Akane Kurahiki decide who lives and dies. Or maybe they're the same person? - Manipulates a woman into breaking up with a man so she can kidnap him and bring him to the moon. - Refuses to let her boyfriend meet her when it doesn't suit her plans. - Kidnaps two women and puts them into a coma for 45 years. GIRLBOSS: - Very willing to kill to achieve her goals or get revenge. - Queen of random trivia. Will info dump about her interests whenever it suits her (including when she is trapped in a freezer with two people). - If anyone touches a hair on her boyfriend's head she will not hesitate to cut them down with a chainsaw. - Stages not one but two mass kidnappings and killing games (that we know of). - Great at multitasking, she manged to save her own life and dispose of the people who almost killed her at the same time. - Uses her knowledge of the future to manipulate the stock market and become super rich. If that doesn't scream girlboss I don't know what does. - Starts her own organisation to fight cult leaders and save the world. - Has two nemeses, the CEO of a pharmaceutical company, whose life she completely destroys and a >100 year old cult leader. - Co-runs a moonbase where she has command of AIs and robots.

#group a #round 1 #atla #avatar the last Airbender #Azula #zero escape #999 #akane kurashiki #vlr #ztd

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still-breathing-au-p3r · 1 month ago

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Despite the lengthy furlough since their last expedition into Tartarus, tonight’s undertaking had gone spectacularly well.

Morale was high, and everyone on the team had fought with newfound vigor. Akihiko, Amada, and Yamagishi seemed especially energized with their new Personas, this being the first time all three were able to fight with them. They had made excellent upward progress, defeated a Gatekeeper as handily as they ever had despite its considerable power, and found more than one piece of valuable equipment.

When Arisato had made the call to return to the dorms for the night, the general mood on the journey back had been one of exhausted but satisfied good cheer. The Dark Hour ends almost as soon as they get back, and everyone trundles upstairs, following the siren call of their beds.

Everyone, that is, except for Mitsuru. She knows she should retire as well, but her mind just won’t quiet. There’s so much to think about, so much to consider, especially now that their final battle is so close at hand. Going to bed and attempting to brute force her way to sleep would be a wasted effort, so instead she heads to the kitchen and pulls out the kettle and a tin of loose leaves. Hopefully some chamomile tea will help her relax enough that she can get some rest.

The process of brewing tea is so familiar that she can surrender it to muscle memory and allow her thoughts to race freely. There’s an awful lot of ground to cover.

Akihiko, Amada, and Yamagishi’s new Personas brought with them the additional boon of new Theurgies as well. And what marvels those Theurgies are! Yamagishi’s offers a level of recovery and amplification of their abilities that is entirely unprecedented. Akihiko’s new attack is incredibly powerful, almost to the point of absurdity. Tonight he had ended a battle with a formidable shadow within a matter of moments, practically vaporizing the thing under his flurry of blows. It had been a sight to behold.

As for Amada’s… Mitsuru can hardly find the words. The strength of his resolve shines as bright as the sun in his new Theurgy. Granting a full recovery to the entire team at once, even those who have been incapacitated– that’s the sort of power one would call miraculous. And to provide reflective shields? It would seem outright unfair, and perhaps it is, but she’s hardly inclined to complain about something being unfair in their favor for once.

This new development carries some fascinating implications for Koromaru’s Persona as well. He’s had two Theurgies from the start, after all. Had Cerberus been the result of a second awakening all along, from some point before he had even met them? That certainly seems to be what the evidence would suggest, at least. What had his initial Persona been? When and how had he awakened, and had he even been able to properly summon it before the attack on the shrine?

Perhaps Aigis might be able to assist her in interviewing Koromaru about it…

It’s almost a shame that she won’t get the chance to witness what new power might have been born of Aragaki’s second awakening. Given what he was capable of with his original Theurgy, she can’t imagine it would be anything less than incredible.

Dwelling on the topic of Aragaki’s abilities also reminds her of a question that she’s yet to learn the answer to–

She’s so lost in thought that the feeling of a hand alighting on her shoulder nearly has her jumping out of her skin. Mitsuru whirls as Akihiko snatches his hand back, looking startled and contrite.

Akihiko doesn’t respond, merely tilts his head and shifts his weight to lean slightly on the counter, settling in for the explanation that he now clearly expects.

She prepares their cups with practiced ease and they retreat from the kitchen, settling side by side on one of the couches.

They sip their tea in somber, contemplative silence for a moment before Akihiko speaks again, looking into his cup instead of at her. His voice is soft and uncharacteristically hesitant.

Akihiko shakes his head. It’s not the first time she’s lamented about that, and it’s also not the first time both Akihiko and Aragaki have brushed off her apology.

They lapse into silence again as they finish their tea, this one far more comfortable. Akihiko accompanies her back to the kitchen and helps her wash and put away the tea service. He hums thoughtfully as he dries his hands on a dishtowel, seeming to think of something.

Mitsuru makes a noncommittal sound and fails utterly to suppress a smile. Akihiko sighs, put-upon, but he has no more success fighting the grin that tugs at the corners of his own mouth than she had.

#mitsuru kirijo #akihiko sanada #akimitsu #persona 3 #p3 #persona 3 reload #still breathing au #sbau main plot #sbau canon #sbau october #sbau october 21 #talksprites and fic #mitsuru pov #(god it is such a treat writing conversations btwn these two)#(it always turns out so sweet and nice)#(also gosh i wonder how that event they allude to could have played out :0a )#(maybe we'll feel like telling you someday :3c )

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frozen10fanzine · 1 year ago

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Elsa has discovered new memories in Ahtohallan

Release: July 1, 2024 ❄️

But for some reason, she can’t access them.

She's tried everything! Her own magic, the assistance of the spirits, even Northuldra wisdom! Nothing works!

But Elsa has a feeling.

It’s the same feeling that told her to trust the voice that brought her north to Ahtohallan. It’s the same feeling that told her the spirits of the Enchanted Forest are good. Now, that feeling is telling Elsa to talk to her sister.

Anna, the Queen of Arendelle.

The sisters don’t quite know it yet, but those memories they are about to find are yours.

Introducing...

A fanzine, for fans, by fans! Created and shared for 6 months!

Elsa and Anna will descend into the depths of Ahtohallan to find our memories of Frozen. You see, Elsa and Anna together are the Fifth Spirit. To see these memories they need to work together to part the ice. As they do, they will find more and more memories through each year, through a whole decade! They will find everything—the movies, the books, the spin-offs—and our memories too!

Those memories are your creativity!

Submissions are closed ❄️✌🏻

We are calling YOU, the fans of Frozen, to share your creativity! Art, poems, photography, non-fiction, short fiction! Frozen has touched so many hearts… what does your heart have to say about it? What year means the most to you? What are your memories?

Let’s show Anna and Elsa together!

If you are so inclined, you can find more information below:

Water Has Memory: A Frozen Decade is a fan project in the form of a fanzine created and shared over 6 months - starting with the 10th Anniversary, November 27, 2023 to April 27, 2024 the End of May 2024.

The fanzine will be in chronological order over the ten years that Frozen has been with us (2013-2023). Each memory that is submitted will be placed in the appropriate year of the contributor's choosing.

At the end of this 6-month journey, the fanzine will be brought together as one PDF.

The submissions period is OPEN. We are accepting submissions for EVERY YEAR. Submissions WILL CLOSE April 12, 2024. Submissions for each year will be open until we reach the maximum submissions for that year.

There will be a maximum of 10 SUBMISSIONS accepted per year.

We are accepting submissions in the form of: Art, photography, short fiction, non-fiction, poetry - Art – All art accepted EXCEPT FOR animatics and longform comics - Photography – All photography accepted except for 18+ content - Short fiction – Fanfiction is welcome! Word count: 1000 words max, 500 words min - Non-fiction – Word count: 700 words max, 400 words min - Poetry – 20 lines max, No shorter than a Haiku

The means of submissions can be found in two places. On THIS TUMBLR and through our email, [email protected]. When you submit your piece, please include what name/handle you would like to sign your work with, what year (2013-2023) you would like your piece to be placed under, if you so choose your bio of no more than 100 words (to be used when the full fanzine is brought together at the end), and if you so choose an image/character/picture to be used alongside your bio (to be used when the full fanzine is brought together at the end).

Please DO NOT submit a piece unless you are certain you can commit the time and energy needed for the project (i.e. communication, meeting the appropriate standards, punctuality, adaptation to change, etc.)

Please understand that this is a project for fans OF ALL AGES. We are PG-13 here at most. There is no hate for 18+ content, this is just not the place for it. That said: OFFENSIVE CONTENT WILL NOT BE ACCEPTED. This includes: - Hate speech - Gore - Bullying/Gatekeeping/Shaming THIS IS NOT AN 18+ PROJECT - No NSFW content - Keep the language appropriate

If you have any more questions, please reach out on our tumblr or at [email protected]

We look forward to seeing your memories ❄️

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aspd-culture · 2 months ago

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thank you for your reply! lowkey convinced I might have a dissociative disorder now—I literally am the child who’s a completely different person before bed and can entirely forget that I’m hungry and every feeling I had in the week before therapy at the ripe old age of 23! tbh I’d thought the emotional impermanence was the adhd but I don’t know anyone else w/o some sort of dissociative amnesia who has the same problem that they can’t remember anything when they go to therapy. but I am capable of having lots of emotions at once (in fact I can never point out one singular thing I’m feeling) so idk!! anyway I’ll look further into it that was wonderful

So there’s more to a system than the failure of the ego states to fuse - but that is the step that causes the system to form and to current knowledge, a system is the only thing that can cause those states to fail to fuse.

As with other children their age, a child who has developed a CDD system will develop emotionally mostly as expected with exceptions given for the delays and disruptions to this that whatever trauma they’re experiencing may cause. A 10 year old that has developed into a system will still be meeting those developmental milestones, except now it will be alters doing it.

We don’t stay as those ego states forever; instead each alter will emotionally develop individually. So now that a system has formed, each alter will - as entirely separate people and therefore at entirely separate rates - develop things like complex emotions and the ability to remember having them. This is why structural dissociation disproves the concepts of an original alter and the alters as “parts”. While the community still uses the terms “splitting” and “fragments”, we do so with the understanding that it isn’t a true breaking into separate pieces of one person in the way we used to think (though in a split pieces can technically “break off” another alter but they would still be entirely separate people vs pieces of a person) with the theory that was replaced by structural dissociation.

These alters will then each live their own lives - having different experiences entirely separate of each other, developing their own interests and hobbies and biases about the world and the people in it, etc. - and therefore become very different people. Alters may be more difficult to notice as children than as adults because they appear to be a child going through normal phases. Alters may also be misunderstood as ADHD (and, to complicate things, the system as a whole may *also* have ADHD) due to memory loss and what appears to be flights of ideas and hobby switching as various alters take the front for various lengths of time.

If you’re autistic, by the way, the thing about being a different person before bed may be explained by that (tiredness can lead to more severe symptoms of autism showing) as can the forgetting you’re hungry (autism often comes with a decreased ability to recognize body cues for needs - so many autistic people struggle to realize they’re hungry until they’re starving, or that they need to go to the bathroom until it’s an emergency, and also forget while engaging with special interests). Autistic people can also struggle to recognize and name emotions, with some of us often failing to recognize emotional changes by anything other than their physical symptoms (some emotions make your stomach feel sick, or a head rush, or a warm sensation, etc.). These things can also be attributed to some other disorders that I’m not specifically aware of but you can check out the differential section for diagnosing DID and Autism to find them I’m fairly sure.

However, it does sound like you’re describing amnesia, and specifically amnesia popping up at a time that a gatekeeper who isn’t feeling ready to process emotions might take the memories from you. Especially if you’d be able to recall those memories immediately before or after therapy, that could be a sign of a dissociative disorder that you could look into and bring up to your professional if you’d like.

Noting here that I am not a professional, and even if I was (I’m not) I’m not *your* professional, so I cannot speak to your diagnoses in any way other than non-professional guesses. Additionally, it’s important to remember that most symptoms of disorders can be from various ones, or be non-disordered traits, and that’s something you’d need to get into it with a professional or do heavy research before deciding on. And I wish you all the luck in doing so!/gen

If you’re after additional research, there is, unlike with ASPD, a decent amount of unbiased information. Be aware of and avoid sources that claim that systems can be fakeclaimed based on literally anything as these sources are not unbiased. The only one who can know if a system is faking or not is an unbiased professional who has spent many hours with their client. For example, I was not diagnosed with DID until I had known my professional for over 3 years, and she still hadn’t considered it until I said something (albeit that that was because she said she wasn’t experienced with this and actually - with my permission - went through my diagnostic tests with a couple trusted colleagues before diagnosing me). One of these resources is the diagnostic test itself which can be found if you look hard enough for it BUT I do not recommend anyone who ever currently plans on pursuing a diagnosis does that specifically. There are two reasons for that - the first is that the diagnostic test is triggering by its nature. You can skip any questions you want but for a truly accurate test result, you ideally would openly answer all questions. As hard as it was, I did not choose to skip any questions in my assessment. That means if you do have a system, you’d be arming your gatekeeper (who may well not want to be found since, when a system is first discovered by the host, the first response is often for it to be hidden from the host as much as possible by backing up, going quiet, giving or taking away memory access, etc.) with the questions you need to answer to get your answer and giving the gatekeeper time to create amnesia towards those questions or to have another alter come out and refuse to answer them or lie to avoid diagnosis. The best way in my opinion to get that assessment done is blindly, without knowledge of the questions, if you have as of yet no or little solid interaction with your alters. The second reason is that these diagnostic tests are difficult to score without the paid for score sheet so if you have the opportunity to let a professional do that, it’s best to allow for that. Because of this, taking that assessment at home would not in any way be the only piece of research you’d need in order to self dx anyway.

Plain text below the cut:

#guess who forgot to put tags #aspd-culture-is #cdd system #dissociation

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