#it's a weird and disconcerting experience

[vimbry-moved]

hm. hey how do you cure/alleviate a problem where you're able to inhale through your nose mostly ok, but exhaling is almost entirely blocked? it's been really messing up my sleep the past few nights bc I keep waking up having to mouth breathe/struggling to

[rotatedaxis]

so i went and saw julien baker on tuesday, and i am still so completely baffled by the lack of singing (as is every person i have spoken to about it) because damn am i used to hearing every other voice in the room as one, instead of one voice alone (unless of course it's a support or something unreleased, different circumstances, but this was the whole show). and now im just thinking about the absolute impact of silence at gigs. like, let's go bears in trees because that is what i know best at this point - they're my most seen artist and for a long time, pretty much the only thing i listened to. they had i'm doing push ups on the set in the past, right? and there's the lyric "we talk about it in the gaps in the silence" and people would nail the pause that followed, and the first time it happened, it utterly punched me in the chest. it was something else, and i loved it. and whenever they play push ups now, i look forward to it. and then there's another example, specific to a show i was at, not a song in particular. but, after they'd finished playing starting fires and not one person clapped or cheered. not because we hated it, no absolutely not. i think everyone just got a bit stuck in the moment, we laughed, clapped, and moved on to injured crow. and i just think about how it clearly had such an emotional impact on everyone in the room that we collectively forgot to do what audiences do. and that sort of thing, that power silence has at a gig in those two examples, are the sort of thing that makes silences (especially where they're unexpected) either magical or very disquieting. the silence at julien baker, to me anyway, felt uncomfortable and a bit stifling and hugely affected the emotional impact it had on me, unfortunately. i feed on the emotions of the people around me, especially at gigs, and hearing all of these other people connected and emotionally affected by the same thing, really amps up every part of the experience personally. and i don't think i realised how much i needed it until then. say, a support set is one thing, an unreleased song another, but when the headliner has a silent crowd? it's very different.

[thus-wrote-mrs-zeppeli]

“Why are you like this sometimes…?”

Various jjba characters x reader: their difficult habits/traits

(Apparently this topic is entertaining to me so have some more lol)

Dating/married depending on character

Characters: Rohan Kishibe, Guido Mista, Bruno Bucciarati, Leone Abbacchio, Diego Brando, Gyro Zeppeli

Content: suggestive for Mista’s part, arguments, unintentional injury

Rohan Kishibe: It absolutely has to be the way he purposely tries to get reactions out of you for the sake of his artistic visions. It’s completely fine when it’s pleasant emotions he’s looking for, surprise gifts or sudden compliments so he can see what it does to your facial expressions, body language, and the way you talk. However, unpleasant emotions are what he really wishes to observe, and unfortunately for you he sees you as a perfect muse. He figures it’d be fine since you were partners.

However you don’t appreciate his random surprise actions that are meant to get a genuine reaction from you. It’s really irritating. You don’t need him essentially just bothering you for the sake of art.

And his weird beef with the local teenagers is really ridiculous. You wouldn’t miss hearing him complain about Josuke and his friends every other day.

Guido Mista: He wanted to move way, way, WAY too fast for your taste. He does Not have a lot of romantic relationship experience, and that became real obvious by how quickly he was expecting the two of you to get Real cozy with each other. Just a few weeks after dating and he’s legit expecting to sleep in the same bed as you, among other much too comfortable things for a couple that have only been together for three weeks.

You’re very flattered he’s so comfortable with you and eager to get more intimate so quickly, but he really needs to slow down a bit-

He gets that he’s in the wrong after you explain that you’re not ready to move so fast, and he profusely, genuinely apologizes for being so hasty. He’s honest with you about it, he’s not sure what he’s doing, and he was really eager to finally have someone he actually saw himself getting serious with and ended up moving too quickly.

Bruno Bucciarati: He’s the perfect man but if I Had to pick something for him…he’s so used to dealing with a group that is very familiar with his tough love and frequent yelling, so on rare occasions it slips his mind that he has to speak to you differently, more gently, than he has to with a group of hardened mafia boys. Every once in a while he’ll accidentally talk to you like you’re one of his team members, which can range from him saying something really weird, to something that sounds very cold and harsh.

It’s not a big deal once you have a deeper understanding of him, and appreciate that he’s one of the kindest men you know, and that icy demeanor is a necessary part of keeping everyone’s trust in him. But before you appreciated that, it was very disconcerting to be randomly subjected to this side of him, but he would always immediately apologize, and you’d quickly forget about it. As the two of you get more comfortable in your relationship you rarely have any issues with him accidentally losing his composure around you, and even when he does, you’re much more sympathetic.

Leone Abbacchio: He’s a bit of a slob, honestly, in the sense that he struggles to take care of himself and be considerate of you. It’s not on purpose either when he disregards your convenience…he’s just not used to sharing space with someone else, let alone someone he needs to be more sensitive and caring towards.

You especially notice after he moves in with you how he tends to be a bit of a mess. Silver hair in your bathroom sink and shower drain…occasionally you have to remind him to brush his teeth or change into something more comfortable before bed or take off his makeup or move to the bedroom before falling asleep. You’re surprised at how used he is to just passing out on the couch.

He acts grouchy about it sometimes, not used to being “nagged” into taking care of himself, but deep down he appreciates how much more comfortable his life is after having you around to remind him to do little things for himself.

Diego Brando: He’s very odd in general but the borderline unbearable habit has to be when he seemingly randomly starts sniffing you. And he’s INVASIVE about it too-completely in your personal space sniffing you up and down, his face in your chest, and then in the crook of your neck, and now he’s trying to sniff your breath-

DIO, PLEASE. PERSONAL SPACE.

Push him away and he’ll just sniff your hands and wrists instead.

And. He tends to get carried away in his physical affection when under the influence of Scary Monsters, so you might get bitten or scratched way too hard for it to be considered playful. And he has the audacity to act confused over why you’re yelping in pain from his touch, as if he’s not acting like an animal.

Gyro Zeppeli: You love him, you love him SO much but he is STUBBORN and has an attitude problem. Sometimes it’s like talking to a brick wall that can also argue back. Grown-ass man but when he doesn’t want to do something he’ll fight you on it like a child. Ex. He doesn’t want to go to your great aunt’s third wedding and he Definitely doesn’t want to put on another suit for it-wow you were close to whipping out the divorce threat after that argument-

This happens a lot…insanely loud and volatile arguments that make you sound like a couple that really shouldn’t be together, and you both say some pretty crazy things but that’s just the nature of your relationship. You both forget about it within a few hours and move on. You rarely ever actually hurt each other’s feelings, and even if you did you’re both not So stubborn that you won’t apologize if your relationship is actually on the line.

But still. As used as you are to his difficult moments, you could really do without the attitude and talkback on every little thing he didn’t want to deal with.

[sepublic]

I’m not sure how “canon” we can consider Manny having been an ambulance driver, since this was part of a S1B episode that was never animated; None that Camila is also listed as a nurse as was the original assumption by the fandom.

Did the writers change Camila to a veterinarian to create more of a thematic bond between herself and her daughter and Palismen, esp for the scene in Thanks to Them where Luz muses on what hers will be while at her mom’s workplace? To tie into Camila adopting a snake-like demon, who was caged and hunted like an animal, only to be treated with love? Manny heals humans, so Camila matches him as someone who heals creatures, thereby suggesting she helped inspire and contribute to Luz’s experience with them and taxidermy?

Regardless, it’s better than nothing! And in light of this revelation, also from the aforementioned TTT;

I wonder if Manny was one of those people who’s fascinated with body horror and gore, since those are considered “weird” interests and it’s thematically fitting, and it played a role in his profession? Because he’d have to see a lot of damaged and even mutilated bodies at the very site where they were hurt, and handle them with care.

If he’s not one to shy away, it’d make Manny all the better at it; Perhaps he could come across as a tad disconcerting about it as well, like Robbie’s parents in Gravity Falls being overly cheerful about their funeral profession and embalming work. Maybe he grew up with others considering Manny “troubled” because he drew gore and the like, but no he was just genuinely chill and a nurturing person who brought more life and healing than he ever did harm, just as his wife and child would do the same for an entire corpse that was a world.

He’d have loved exploring and understanding the biology of the Boiling Isles, and another protective ‘father’ to Luz who died affirming her before passing on a final gift relating to witches. And given my HC on Healing Magic essentially being flesh manipulation and thus quite good at body horror in its ability to change the form to one’s needs, it fits perfectly with what kind of magic Manny could’ve gotten into, in another world; Of course we learn about his profession in the cancelled episode where Luz figured out the Healing Glyph! Do yall think Manny taught Luz her eyelid trick? I’d like to think so.

[delta-chan]

Thoughts about Dawntrail map six

Needless to say, very heavy spoilers beneath the read more!

I was initially a bit wary of Living Memory's telegraphed "reverse Ultima Thule" structure until I got the prompt that the scenery would be irreversibly altered at the first terminal. I panicked because like a lot of people I thought "oh nice, I'll come back here later for some nice gpose shots". That this beautiful place would have to be taken away for you to progress was almost incomprehensible to me and in that moment the genius of it clicked. It wasn't just a reverse spin on Ultima Thule's structure--it was a reverse spin that was going to back it up to an extreme.

The ephemerality of life is something FFXIV has touched on many times before, including as one of the chief themes of Endwalker. But while in Endwalker this was on a grand scale as a part of radical acceptance as a whole, Dawntrail's second half explores this idea in a more focused, intimate fashion. While the WoL has no one they are close to that they can engage with in an experience with like Erenville, Krile, and Wuk Lamat--they have the environment. And being that you're the person behind the WoL with an investment in that environment on some level the finality of moving forward hits you like a sack of bricks.

I spent a lot of time being kind of awed by this--it's a very, very solid gimmick. I sort of paused at the first prompt going "haha there's no way, right…?" before going "wait" and immediately setting out to take a bunch of quick shots. That place wasn't going to exist anymore, and I wanted a memory of it. That beautiful place--a painstakingly detailed and gorgeous bit of gpose bait if I've ever seen it--wasn't going to exist if I wanted to move on. It was… weird. I took so many nearly identical shots trying to get perfect ones because there was only ever going to be that moment. In the future there'll be new game plus. You might have alts. But in that moment, experiencing it for the first time... it's… really effective. Startlingly effective.

The fact that when I was watching the map introduction and thought about how Living Memory was an almost tailor-made gposing space (and let's face it probably is for exactly this reason) that I would have a lot of fun taking screenshots at later made me think about how many other people thought, are thinking, and will think the same thing not knowing that they're taking it for granted. Who would...? It's absurd. Why would the map be altered to such a degree that it'd be rendered gone all but in name...? It hasn't happened before. So why would it happen now? Why would it even come to mind?

And the thing is--even if someone warns you, even if you're spoiled, even if you have someone fly you from place to place--the terminals are still going to have to be shut down eventually if you want to move forward. You cannot keep it. Living memory is made to be seen once then destroyed by your own hand.

I mean--at the end of the MSQ I thought, perhaps naively, that Living Memory was going to be restored because the threat was resolved. I mean--everyone's gone. There's no need for the environment to stay gone as well, right...? I mean, they put so much loving detail into it!

Wrong.

In the immediacy of when I first finished Endwalker during its early access I wrote that I never wanted to return to Ultima Thule because it creeped me out. The map was emotionally fraught, and my first experience with it was being released into an incredibly dark map with a discordant soundtrack, jumping out of my seat at another player passing by. But returning to it for hunts and the Omicron quests I saw it for the vibrant, beautiful place that it was. It changed for the better and stayed that way.

In spite of how much I've talked up Living Memory's beauty and how much it inspires the drive to capture the moment before it leaves you, it's also far more disconcerting than Ultima Thule from the very beginning in an altogether different manner. Living Memory is something that you want to be that shouldn't be. Both in the context of the MSQ and as a map in general--you want to take screenshots, you want to linger, but the unchanging weather effect and languidly pleasant music begin to push against you if you stay too long.

When everything's said and done Living Memory becomes a featureless husk that now has natural changing weather. At night there are motes of light, golden remains of the once oppressive reminiscence. And in the background as if being piped from distant speakers, the languidly pleasant and slightly warped BGM echoing through the nothingness like an amusement park's PA system playing music for no one after closing for the last time.

It's something you didn't want that needs to be.

[kn-1013]

see, i like the travis age regressor headcannon a lot, but people turn sal way too much into the world's most perfect caregiver, when i know damn well that guy can barely take care of himself, and would probably be taking care of travis to distract himself from his own problems. on top of that, due to the considerable amount of neglect that henry gave him particularly before nockfell, there's probably a significant amount of things that sal can technically do, but he's doing them wrong because nobody was there to teach him how to do them.

for example, things like: using too much detergent in the washing machine or washing whites with colors, throwing pizzas into the oven directly onto the pizza rack instead of on something more stable, chopping vegetables incorrectly or unsafely, using dish soap instead of shampoo, using metal mixing bowls or oven pans on the stove instead of proper pots and pans if none of the dishes are clean, even reusing somewhat dirty dishes at times, repairing clothes with incredibly janky sewing, wearing dirty clothes repeatedly, not taking proper care of cuts/bruises because he doesn't really know how, etc.

i think it'd provide a really interesting dynamic for the two of them if travis did know how to do these things properly, because despite his father being abusive, he still needs his kids to know how to take care of themselves somewhat. they all know how to cook, how to sew, how to operate the washing machine properly, how to take care of cuts/bruises, etc. this is not only more realistic to sal's life experiences and realistic to travis's probable experiences, it also provides a much more give and take kind of relationship between the two, where travis has to help sal take care of himself properly just as much as sal is taking care of him when he needs to regress.

it's also really funny to imagine travis deep in the throes of age regression, but immediately snaps the fuck out of it when he sees sal using a metal mixing bowl to make them both mac n cheese for lunch and he has to ask his babysitter what the actual fuck he's doing, or travis feeling a bit disconcerted at the fact that the fishers are currently using dish soap to wash themselves. ("so THAT'S why his hair is that weird texture...")

idk some food for thought on the travis agere headcannon.

[delirious-donna]

The Moments Before [Part Six]

"You will drink from her. We will find out together if there is any truth behind the old stories. This is not a request. It’s an order.”

story summary: Levi isn’t hungry, or so that’s what he claims. A vampire must drink to survive, and his sire refuses to let the man give up without trying every trick up his sleeve. When a new ‘donor’ appears, one who is different from all the rest, will Levi be able to keep resisting?

pairing: Levi Ackerman (vampire) x female reader (human)

warnings: hospital/medical setting (dream), implications of losing a parent, grief, fear of death, a lot of plotting for the story, vampire powerplay

note: the next chapter... yeah, it's gonna be a BIG one. Explosive to say the least, and expect very mature content. Whilst I'm here, let me thank all of those who have left comments or reblogged this story. 2024 has been a shitshow and writing has helped me stay sane. Thank you for indulging my hobby.

Part Five | Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Part Seven

“What made you want to try this line of work?”

The question sounded innocent enough, but you still peered curiously at Hange.

They were lying spread out on an antique couch that looked like it was due far from respect than what it was receiving. Your eyes narrowed on them, picking at their cuticles and swinging a barefoot over the back of said couch.

Trust was earned in your book. That was a lesson you had learned the hard way, and if you were to continue your service here then you needed to be mindful of what information you volunteered and to whom. Saying that, Hange had been nothing but friendly towards you, in fact, they were the first person to really talk to you.

Pleasantries were all well and good, but they wore thin very quickly. Hange had appeared in your life like a whirlwind, and despite the reservations you had promised yourself you would hold tight to, you found it all too easy to become a little more familiar with them.

“Well, the money is good,” you admitted slowly, cautiously.

Hange snorted and rolled their body, so they were looking at you properly, glasses perched low on their nose. “Girl, please. There has got to be more to it than the fat wad of cash Erwin handed you. I know—for a fact—that there are well paying jobs that are far less intrusive than this one. You had to move here for an indefinite period. That is not an easy decision to make for a quick buck, even if it is the big bucks.”

“It was a good enough answer when your boss interviewed me, and I use that word lightly, grilled would be far more accurate.”

Erwin had been very thorough in his line of questioning, even going as far as to ask for your family history going back six generations. You recalled him explaining with the most casual of shrugs and a soft, near disconcerting smile, that no vampire worth mentioning wanted to take blood from a potential relative. What a disturbing thought…

“Erwin and I do not think alike—at all—in any way, shape or form.” Hange snorted, amused that you would ever think them to be remotely similar. “Whilst he would absolutely know if you were lying…”

A thrill shot through your spine. Hange smiled, knowing that your heart rate had spiked at that very moment.

“As I was saying… he would know if you were lying, but sometimes we can tell the truth whilst not revealing everything. I enjoy picking holes in people. Consider yourself my latest project.”

Suddenly the gummy bears in your hand looked less appealing than before. Dropping the handful into your lap, you placed one on your tongue and sucked on it quietly. You had no interest in being a weird science experiment.

“C’mon,” Hange chided with a childlike whine.

They rolled right off the edge of the couch with an ungraceful thump and crawled on their knees towards the overstuffed chair you occupied, planting their chin on the arm. They reminded you of a puppy who had just been scolded.

“We’re friends, right? It’s not like I don’t trust you. I just wanna know. There’s a reason other than the money, isn’t there?”

If you didn’t already feel trapped, you certainly did now.

How on earth had you found yourself in the company of a vampire acting like a damn puppy so readily? They were meant to be these all-powerful beings and here was Hange acting like if you gave them the barest of crumbs, they would roll over to present their belly. It defied logic!

Pushing out a long, low breath, you straightened your back.

You could admit to certain things, you didn’t need to say it all. It wouldn’t be so bad for at least someone around here to know a little more about you. Your mind immediately flitted to Levi, cheeks flushing that you wanted that person to be him more than anyone else. He didn’t care. He wouldn’t care. That’s what you told yourself because the alternative was too dizzying.

“I definitely didn’t lie; money really is a major factor. My dad… he works too hard. He’s getting older now and he refuses to slow down even though I know—I can see—the toil it’s taking on him. I want him to retire whilst he still has a chance to live, to enjoy his golden years without having to worry that he won’t have enough money to pay the bills. Do you know how annoying it is to have a father who refuses to listen to reason?”

“I can imagine,” Hange replied, eyebrows raised, and you had the distinct impression that they were thinking of one such person who fit your description. You smiled in recognition. “I get that, but blood donor, really? Didn’t fancy a short stint of working as a high-end escort or something that doesn’t come with the iron deficiency and the headache of cranky vampires?”

This was the crux of your problem; vampires offered you the potential solution to another problem. A far more personal problem. It felt like your clock was ticking and the noise only grew louder and more deafening with each day that passed.

You blinked hard, shutting out the fluorescent strip lighting and the beeping monitors that never ceased their noise. Not even in those final moments, the sound of a flatlining heart monitor permanently scarred your memories.

That was not your future. It had been so much of your past that you damn well refused to give it any room in your future. Drastic times called for drastic measures. Weren’t you using them as much as they were using you? It was a fair trade, right?

“You’re right, it would have been easy to fall into escorting, if I could find a place reputable enough to ensure I wasn’t going to be taken advantage of, but I have a problem with getting close to people,” you said whilst looking down at your fuzzy yellow socks.

“How so? You seem just fine in being able to converse and I don’t sense any social anxiety in you, even when you’re the only human in the room. Plus, this job requires you to get close… I mean, it’s kinda necessary.” Hange sat back on their haunches, puzzlement evident in their features and their eyes dropping to your neck and back.

It felt like being under a microscope.

You shrugged, an attempt at nonchalance. “People die. I have a problem with that.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. I’m fucked.”

“An understatement, dear.”

A chuckle left your lips, it grew into peals of laughter until you were clutching your stomach and bent over from the pain of them. Tears formed in the corners of your eyes, not yet falling, and you were quick to wipe them away as you fixed your watery stare on Hange.

You hadn’t lied, but again, you hadn’t disclosed everything.

“Any chance we can change the subject for now? I’m feeling suitably embarrassed,” you said with a hiccup.

Gratitude filled your chest when they nodded, solemn one moment then playful the next, moving on to regale you with tales of their younger years spent with Erwin and Levi.

~

“What’s the problem?” Erwin inquired, fatigue evident in his tone, and mirrored by the pinching motion at the bridge of his nose.

Levi wasn’t keen to be back in this office, but he knew that when it came to finding the answers he needed… Erwin would be key. There was only so much he could find out on his own.

He just needed to take care with his words, not something he was known for.

“Why her?”

The blond stilled, his piercing blue eyes locking with Levi’s. A smile unfurled—devilish and knowing. “There is something you aren’t telling me, Levi, but that’s okay. You’ll tell me in your own time, I have nothing but time, after all.”

“You’re not helping! Can you answer a question without turning it back on me or into some elaborate riddle that makes my head pound?” Levi all but growled.

“Fine,” he sighed. “You want to know why her… I don’t know if I can truly articulate my reasons, there was simply a feeling. She felt like someone you would like, for lack of a better word. That you wouldn’t steamroll over her and perhaps she could reach you where I have been unsuccessful.”

Erwin’s gaze turned thoughtful, the edges of his eyes softening into something akin to melancholy. Levi glanced away, not nearly ready to decipher any of the emotions flitting freely across his maker’s face.

“Do you remember those stories you used to tell us about blood singing?” Levi asked without further preamble.

“… yes. Of course. They are legends of sort; I don’t think there are many—if any—that believe the tales these days. Why do you ask?”

Levi looked at him now. Gray mercurial irises fixed steadily on those artic blue ones that never failed to leave him feeling as if Erwin was looking inside his head, rifling through his memories and thoughts as if it was his personal filing cabinet.

“Did it happen—”

Levi held up a hand, and for once, Erwin quieted.

“You say there is little to no one that believes it to be true, but what about you? Do you think meeting someone who’s blood sings to them is even possible? I hate to admit that I respect your opinion, and whilst I am neither confirming nor denying if it has happened, I want to hear your thoughts on the matter.”

Erwin sat back in his chair, elbows braced on the sturdy arms and his fingers steepled beneath his chin. His lips pursed. If Levi didn’t know any better, he would say his heart was racing, but he was too far into the starvation process for that to be true. He waited for what seemed like an eternity, fingers gripping tighter into his thighs to prevent himself from spitting and hissing, demanding an answer rather than this painfully prolonged silence.

“Well, my head says it was a foolish story concocted to soothe the newly turned, for those that disliked the idea of constantly taking blood from humans to sustain their existence. One person who was made for them, who could provide everything they needed and potentially be able to turn without it affecting their blood… who wouldn’t want that?”

For a moment, Levi thought that was his final thought, but Erwin surprised him by continuing after more than a beat or two of silence.

“My heart wants it to be true,” Erwin said with a solemn nod of his head. “For one it would mean more power to any vampire lucky enough to meet their blood singer…”

Levi scoffed at Erwin’s words but did not interject further, letting him continue despite the arch of his thick black eyebrow.

“Ultimately, our lives are lonely. We can be surrounded by our own kind, but true connections between vampires are rare and don’t often survive the difficulties that come with that type of relationship. I would be a fool not to want a slice of companionship that didn’t involve an element of wariness.”

Erwin sat forward, fixing Levi with a penetrating stare. “I am not above wanting to find the person destined to be mine and mine alone. Those blessed enough to encounter these… special people, they should not squander that gift.”

Goddammit.

He was right. That realisation grated down Levi’s nerves more than he thought it would. If all of this was correct, he really would be an idiot not to explore it further, but… was it the right thing to do? How would you take this news? Would you even believe him?

The thought that you were his perfect companion, the only person in this world who could sustain him indefinitely, even if turned, and would strengthen him in ways he did not yet comprehend, that was a lot to ask of anyone. A donor’s job was only ever meant to last a few months, maybe a year, but not for the rest of your life.

“I don’t like this,” he admitted quietly.

His hand clenched into a fist atop his lap, eyes concentrating on how the tendons and muscles flexed and shifted beneath his pale skin. “Who am I to condemn anyone’s live like that? No one would want to be tethered to me in such a way.”

“You forget your past lovers,” Erwin interjected calmly. “There was at least one of them who begged you for the chance of immortality. Was that not in an effort to stay with you?”

Levi bristled at the memory, at the ache that still found him all these decades later. “I was merely a means to an end, and you damn well know that. They were far more driven in ambitions than I realised until it was almost too late.”

“In any case, that is by the by. I must insist that you determine if your assumptions are correct. Yes, Levi, I am well aware that you think our newest donor is your blood singer despite the pitifully weak attempts at hiding that fact from me. I am not an idiot. Plus, it seems you might have intrigued Hange by letting it slip in some capacity to the little one.”

“What do you mean?” Levi demanded, his guard coming up in an instant. He did not want Hange poking their annoying nose into this business, they would be insufferable to say the least.

Laughter erupted from Erwin, far too boisterous for Levi’s liking. “Well, did you mention anything about blood singing to our guest? Maybe you didn’t mean to, or you hadn’t realised, but she asked Hange about it on the drive here after your first encounter. I had to pull that little tidbit from them, they were not happy about my means either.”

“I’ll bet,” Levi grumped. He was all too familiar with the exertion of power that Erwin had over him and the others made by his hands. Hange might be a pest at the best of times, but he hoped that the experience had not been too rough, especially given how precarious Erwin’s mood had been of late.

Standing, Levi brushed his palms over his thighs and moved towards the door. The action was mirrored by the much taller man, Erwin intercepting him without much effort.

Suddenly the air shifted. No longer was there a sense of familial warmth, more so it felt like the air had been sucked from the room. Oppressive and thick—the gesture did not go unnoticed.

“Now is not the time to be leaving, Levi.”

“Are you planning on stopping me if I try?” he asked, head cocked in curiosity of how far Erwin was willing to play his hand.

“I would rather not, but if needs must…”

The threat lingered; Levi could feel the first tendrils of power leaking from his sire and knew if push came to shove, he would be forced to bend the knee and remain if that was what was asked of him. He hated that power, that stupid connection that bound him to Erwin like an invisible ball and chain around his ankle. This was part of why he wanted to end it all, or so he tried to convince himself.

“If you were so set on ending your existence, why not have someone behead you or destroy your heart? Levi, I am sorry, but all I have viewed this ridiculous plot of yours is a temper tantrum. You will drink from her. We will find out together if there is any truth behind the old stories. This is not a request. It’s an order.”

The hairs on Levi’s arms and at the back of his neck stood up. Energy pulsed like lapping waves inside the room, they were coming faster and stronger with each ripple. Soon he would be forced to bow to the whims of his sire.

He could count on one hand the number of times this had played out. Erwin meant every word; his conviction would not be swayed. Should he continue to fight against it?

“Why?” he asked, voice hoarse with the effort of producing the single word.

“I have my reasons. Whether I decide to clue you into them will depend on how the next little while goes,” Erwin answered stiffly.

Levi found his gaze straying to the door. Not because he was still trying to leave, he could have shadowstepped if he didn’t know that Erwin would prevent it, but because there were voices on the other side.

Voices he recognised.

His heart lurched in his chest. Golden threads awakening to tighten around the withering organ.

You were coming.

~

“Does it hurt?”

It was amazing how childlike you sounded despite being in your early twenties, almost like it wasn’t your voice at all. Except… it was yours.

Your mother turned a weak smile in your direction, it didn’t reach her eyes—dulled with pain—and you knew the answer would be a lie. Not one borne of bad intention, quite the opposite, but it would be a deceit regardless.

“No, darling. I’m fine, more than fine when my girl is here with me.” She reached for you; her hand was thinner than you had ever known it, the skin near translucent to highlight the veins beneath and the fragile bones.

The comfort you should have felt from taking your mum’s hand didn’t manifest. There was no warmth, only an ice-cold hand wrapped delicately around yours. You worried that if she tried to squeeze your fingers, her bones might snap entirely.

The time was coming. There was nothing you could do to stop it. Doctors had tried and failed. Your mother would die and there wasn’t a single thing in this world you could do to prevent it.

It wasn’t long before the familiar lump settled into your throat, and welling of tears began in your eyes, smudging your vision whilst you tried desperately to blink them away. You could feel the frown creasing between your eyebrows, and the downward tilt of your lips. It didn’t matter how long you had known this would be the outcome; the hurt was still as raw as when the doctor had given his final prognosis.

Slowly, you crumpled over her bed. The bright overheard strip lighting might not be as intense in the private side room than in the main ward, but they still stung your eyes even when you closed them tightly shut.

If only the constant beeping from the monitors would fade away until all you could hear was your own laboured breathing and the soothing hum from your mum as she stroked her fingers through your hair in an effort to console you.

Your father should be here, and his absence only became apparent when three resounding knocks came from the door, with it a chill far greater swept over you until you were convinced you could see the very breath from your mouth.

Something wanted to come in, but it wasn’t time.

There was more to be said, more to be shared. More more more.

“You can’t ignore it forever,” your mum said quietly.

“Watch me.”

She made to tut, but her tongue got stuck behind her teeth and she coughed instead. You could hear the rattle in her chest, the exertion of her lungs working harder than they should have to.

The guilt ate you and another knock chimed like a death knell.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, lowering your head at the same moment her fingers slipped out of your grasp.

Your vision greyed from the outward corners in, and no matter how much you tried to blink and refocus or look around, the result didn’t change. The beeping was getting worse. There were people in the room now. A black shadow loomed from behind you and a scream ripped through your throat until you jolted awake.

Sweat dripped down your neck as you sat bolt upright, blinking and trying to reorient yourself once your heart thundered so furiously you thought it might break through your ribs.

You were in the same parlour room from earlier, where you had spent a fun few hours chatting with Hange and playing card games when they got bored of only telling stories. The walls were decorated in duck egg blue and the armchair you had fallen asleep on was as opulent as you recalled.

How long were you out?

Hange was nowhere to be seen, and suddenly, with dawn comprehension, the idea of sleeping in a room where anyone living or visiting the household could walk right in cooled your blood. You were nothing more than a naïve lamb in a den of lions.

It took you a good while to calm your racing heart and nerves, a good thing too or you might have screamed when the faraway door clicked loudly before opening just enough for Hange’s head to pop through.

Their eyes scanned the room then fell on you, eyebrows rising along with a smile. “You’re finally awake! It’s only been three hours… tired, were we?”

Three hours?!

“Something like that,” you grumbled, cheeks warming.

Hange chuckled and stepped inside to lean on the door. “Not wise to fall asleep anywhere other than your bedroom. Y’know, it locks for a reason. Gotta keep the monsters at bay somehow, right?”

“Oh, hey! I’m only teasing,” they continued when your pallor turned to ash. “No one would dare, not here, I swear it. Erwin would murder anyone that even thinks about hurting you.”

“That’s… comforting?” You mused, unclear if it was comforting or kind of terrifying to know. “I didn’t sleep great last night; I must have dozed off. I blame your lame ass stories.”

Hange scoffed, hands on hips and nostrils flaring.

“My stories are unrivalled, thank you very much! They sure as hell are more honest than anything you’d get out of Levi, that’s for damn certain. He’s such a stick in the mud.” Hange shook her head as if recalling some long distant memory then jerked up straight. “Nevermind that! You’re wanted!”

“I’m what?”

“Wanted,” they repeated as if that clearly explained everything, and they didn’t know why you needed clarity.

“I don’t speak Hange-euse, can you elaborate?”

“You. Are. Wanted. In. Erwin’s. Office. In. Exactly. Thirty. Minutes. Move!” Hange enthused each word carefully, over-enunciating every syllable dramatically. They motioned their hand between you and the door, gesturing for you to get a move on, but for a moment you were frozen.

Erwin wanted to see you again. You weren’t sure why it felt different from any of the other times you had met with him, especially over the past few days, but there was an air of something brewing that you disliked.

That ominous feeling from your dream resurged with gusto. Had it been some weird kind of warning or were you letting your paranoia overwhelm you? Whatever it was, you couldn’t dwell on it, not when you looked like you had been dragged backwards through a garden maze.

“Alright, I’m going. Don’t shove!”

Destiny awaited behind the mahogany door at the other side of the house. Whether it was good or bad…

That was entirely in your hands now.

[ddarker-dreams]

watching a tv series you enjoy when yan chrollo's in the general vicinity is a dangerous gamble.

on one hand, you get the much needed mental reprieve from your subpar circumstances. throughout the episode's duration, you lose yourself in the narrative and reality fades into an insignificant blur. it might not bring about tangible change, but it makes your day to day more tolerable.

then chrollo slides in.

you expect him to interject unwanted commentary and ruin the viewing experience — he doesn't. he isn't just creepily staring at you for the 22 or 50 minutes either. chrollo might not laugh and cry at the writer's behest, but he's engaged. if the episode ends on a cliffhanger he'll share his theories for what happens next. it's annoying because he's so unfairly engaging. if you aren't mindful, you could easily sink hours into discussing the various characters and major plot points. he gives you insight you never would've thought of yourself, listens dutifully to your contributions and genuinely cares about getting your input.

it's disconcerting. you wish he'd just be weird and keep trying to touch your thighs or something so you could know it's all a means to an end. your every thought holds such significance to him and this causes a flurry of uncomfortable feelings.

[icypolargirl78]

tumblr is being a bitch about linking the fic. so um. i guess i'm shoving it here. read under the cut! here's the ao3 link too if you wanna drop by *taps fingers*

But I look so much more handsome now!

Blurr/Swerve

1.4k words

Gen fic. No smut here. Just some stupid stuff based off of the canon information that Swerve keeps this stupid ass photo of Blurr on his person XD

"Swerve, what is this?"

Blurr was looking at his own face. That wasn't unusual, Blurr did that every day when he looked in the mirror. No, this instance of his face was captured on a datapad, grainy and cracked like Swerve had been carrying it through the war. Given the blocky squares of his helm in the photo, he probably had. He hadn't seen his face looking like that in ages.

"Um..." Swerve had that nervous look on his face that he always did when Blurr found some remnant of his fanboy days. It was an awkward expression, like Swerve wanted to crawl into a hole and die, but Blurr found it oddly cute. It was like looking at a turbohound who'd ripped up the carpet. "Well that's just... I mean- It's- I just- You weren't supposed to-"

"Swerve." Blurr set down the datapad, his own face stared back up at him. It was weird, not the photo itself, Blurr knew exactly how many pictures Swerve had saved of him, but the act of looking at what he used to look like was just an overall disconcerting experience. He never liked looking back, always racing forward. "Calm down."

Swerve's chassis rattled. "Right, um. It's..." His faceplate turned several shades bluer. "Iusedtokeepthatinmysubspaceduringthewar." He stammered out, looking anywhere but at Blurr. There were a few moments of quiet. "You weren't supposed to see that." Swerve muttered, sounding utterly miserable.

"Why is it so bad?" Blurr looked back down at the photo. He wasn't going to call his old frame ugly, but it certainly wasn't up to the standards of his current form, at least in his qualified opinion.

"Bad?!" Swerve looked agast. "That's you!"

"Yes, and I think it looks bad." Blurr sighed. "I certainly don't look as fabulous as I do nowadays."

Swerve gaped, mouth open and for once in his life, looking completely unsure of what to say. "Bad?!" He repeated again. "You're saying it looks bad."

"Well." Blurr sniffed. "There are certainly better photos of me."

"You're insane." Swerve stared. "You think you look bad?!"

"I don't know much more clear I can get Swerve." Blurr picked up the datapad, tapping on the photo. "Surely we can just get rid of this one and you can take a new one to look at when I'm not around."

"NO!" Swerve yelped like Blurr had suggested they execute someone. "DON'T!" He leaned forward, arm outstretched for the datapad.

Blurr swung his arm upwards and Swerve toppled face first into his chassis. The minibot looked up at him and Blurr felt himself overcome with the urge to kiss him. It wasn't his fault, Swerve's utter desperation had a unique kind of attraction to it and he made such cute little squeaks when they smooched too! There was a muffled groan as Swerve's hand made continued attempts at grabbing the datapad, now far out of reach even with Blurr kneeling to be more at hie height.

"What was that?" He asked, half heartedly patting the little roof that sheltered Swerve's helm.

"Don't delete it." Swerve uncovered his face and oh... Swerve's visor was overflowing, and he sniffled as Blurr looked down in concern.

"Swerve. It's just a photo." Blurr said gently. "And you have the real thing right in front of you."

"I-I-" Swerve sniffled again, hand still flailing for the datapad. "But I like it, and I don't want you to delete it!"

Blurr sighed. When they'd first started dating, Swerve had shyly shown Blurr his rather sizeable collection of posters, merchandise, and other such paraphernalia all plastered with his own face. It had been just a little creepy and Blurr had almost considered dumping him right there on the spot.

He'd dealt with his fair share of crazy fans, but Swerve had something that most didn't; an ounce of self awareness. He'd seemed to realise that Blurr maybe found his collection just a tad bit strange and immediately backtracked.

They'd had a long and rather boring conversation about healthy boundaries after that. Swerve had assured Blurr that he wasn't just dating him because he was a former star, and he especially wasn't dating him just because of a silly fan crush. Blurr still avoided the part of their house that held all that merchandise, but he wasn't as off put by it anymore. And though he would never admit it, Blurr enjoyed the boost to his ego whenever Swerve would ramble on and on about some random race that he could barely remember.

"Again." He pointed out. "You've got the real thing right in front of you."

"But I liked your old frame!" Swerve had now clambered up so he was sitting in Blurr's lap, arms and legs wrapped around Blurr's waist and torso respectively, like those silly Earth animals that were called bears, but weren't actually bears.

Blurr wrinkled his olfactory. "But it's so outdated." Speed was all the rage nowadays. The Velocitronians who moved to Cybertron had brought much of their racing culture with them and Blurr had finally allowed Knockout to trim down some of his armour. It wasn't much, but the lack of inbuilt weapons was a nice change of pace. "And I looked so blocky."

"Nooooo~ You looked so handsome!" Swerve fiddled with the seams on Blurr's chestplate, stubby fingers poking at wires. It didn't feel like much of anything but Blurr thought it sweet nonetheless.

"As opposed to right now?"

"You know that's not what I meant."

"Why this one? I know you've got more saved somewhere." Swerve blushed again and this time Blurr could feel the woosh of hot air as it was expelled from Swerve's systems.

"It's the first one I ever took of you."

Blurr couldn't help it, he laughed.

"Don't laugh!" Swerve moaned in despair. "It's not funny!"

Blurr laughed harder. "It is just a little bit funny." He patted Swerve's kibble again. "And it's cute how attached you are."

"I'm not cute." Swerve pouted, which just made him cuter.

"You are." Blurr smirked.

"You're so mean." Swerve huffed dramatically. "Can't believe Blurr, hero of the people is an asshole who teases and bullies his partner."

"Uh huh. C'mhere you." Blurr set the datapad down, shifting his arms so he could pull Swerve up and smooch him stupid. The minibot let out one of those adorable squeaks as soon as Blurr started to press his lips all over his visor.

"Assault!" Swerve cried, half laughing as Blurr continued to pepper affection across his face. "You're smudging my visor! This is cruel and unusual punishment!!!"

"I'm very cruel." Blurr got to his pedes, feeling just a little smug when Swerve clung to his shoulder pauldrons. He got why Roadbuster liked carrying around his teammates now, it was very nice to just hold Swerve in his arms. He stooped and grabbed the datapad from the floor. "Now to just delete this-"

Swerve's hand shot out and snatched the datapad. Blurr barely had time to react before it vanished into Swerve's subspace and was permanently locked out of his reach. "It's mine." Swerve grinned, triumphant and looking all too pleased with himself. "And I'm keeping it forever!"

Blurr sighed. "Fine, suit yourself, but I still don't understand why you'd want to."

"For the memories!" Swerve leaned up and pecked Blurr's cheek. "It's nice to remember what you looked like before you got all streamlined."

"I was streamlined back then." Blurr countered, walking towards their room.

"Ugh, but not like you are now. You're all sharp edges and smooth plating, You were very handsome all blocky and stuff."

"Aw I'm glad you think so~" Blurr leaned down and kissed Swerve again.

"I've always thought you were handsome." Swerve grinned when Blurr pulled back. "And I'll keep saying it until you believe it."

"I never said I didn't believe it. I'm just more beautiful now than I was then."

"If you say so." Swerve grinned mischievously. "But I think your current blue is a little tacky, don't you?"

"Tacky?" Blurr clicked his glossa. "That's not what you were telling me the other day."

"I've changed my mind." Swerve snickered. "You're horribly tacky, too much teal." He leaned forward so his visor was level with Blurr's optics. He could see all the tiny mechanisms inside of Swerve's optical suite, the dials and gears and little sensors that all spun into motion as Blurr kept looking further. Sometimes he thought he could see inside of Swerve's helm, get a look at his brain module through the gaps, but it was just a trick of the light. "Blurr?" Swerve asked, vents hitching as Blurr leaned forward.

"You're so stupid." Blurr sighed, connecting their lips even as Swerve let out a retort. It was nice, not quite chaste but not heated in any way. "I love you."

When he finally pulled back, Swerve looked stunned. "I love you too." He giggled. "And I take it back, you're not tacky."

[frozenjokes]

it is concerning me how aggressive the fandom is right now towards people expressing disappointment for pairings from either a preference perspective (just not enjoying a dynamic) or a character perspective (worried about their blorbos) on their own PERSONAL spaces i.e. NOT BEING AGGRESSIVE TOWARD CCs

there is a vast difference between someone going into Pearl’s comment section and saying something nasty on a space she is likely to see it and saying something negative about a group or characters on your tumblr blog even if the thing you’re saying isn’t constructive. You’re allowed to be invested in characters you care about. That is not a crime. Expressing negativity about the pairing of desert duo and/or being concerned about one or both characters BC they’re paired up is not. Attacking the CCs. You can also straight up dislike a pairing and say so and Not be policing the CCs on how they play minecraft with their friends. watching mutuals get attacked for having opinions (not even addressing ccs..) on a platform that is disconnected from CCs is extremely disconcerting and weird.

also if a cc is on tumblr and sees smth they don’t like. similar opinion to shipping. ignore it. block. whatever else. do what you need to do to curate your internet experience.

[ejzah]

Blunt Force, Part 10

***

“Alright, now follow the light. Look to the left and then the right.”

Deeks followed Dr. Lesley’s instructions, relieved when the brightness of the pen light didn’t result in shooting pain. A full week had passed since he’d been released from the hospital and while he saw little improvements every day, it felt excruciatingly slow.

Dr. Lesley stepped back and clicked off the light, reattaching it to her lanyard and wrote on her clipboard. She’d already run through several cognitive screenings, tested his reflexes, attention (Deeks had joked that was never an area he excelled in), processing speed, and short memory, among other things.

“So, did I pass?” he asked, playing it off as yet another joke.

“Your pupil response appears normal and your tracking speed is much better than it was last week. So, yes,” she replied, offering him a smile. “I’m really impressed with your progress in such a short time.”

“I’d say thanks, but, uh, all I’ve done most days is eat, sleep, and listen to audio books when it’s not too overstimulating.”

“Which is exactly what you’re supposed to be doing.” Pulling a rolling stool over with one foot, she sat, and faced him. “You don’t know how many people ignore medical advice and watch TV all day or try to start working out before they’re ready.”

“Well, I probably would be doing those things if they didn’t hurt,” he replied with a self-deprecating smile. He’d never been great at following doctor’s orders.

“I’m glad you’re listening to your body. Speaking of, are you still experiencing frequent nausea, headaches, or dizziness?” she asked.

“The nausea’s a lot better.” At least compared to the first few days. “Most of the time, I only experience nausea when I’m really tired or early in the morning. The headaches are still pretty frequent, but not as bad and the dizziness happens mostly when I move too fast.”

“Good. That just leaves your memory. Obviously, your short term and long term memory pre-2006 are excellent, but have you remembered anything from that six year gap?”

“The other night I had a weird dream about playing laser tag with my partner, Kensi,” he said with a shrug. “Halfway through, the other team suddenly had real guns and Russian accents. So, I guess it could be a memory. Or the produce of the murder mystery I’ve been listening to.”

Dr. Lesley’s eyebrows rose, and brief amusement crossed her face. “That is an interesting dream. There’s always the possibility it’s rooted in some part of reality.”

“Yeah.” He sighed, focusing on a diagram of the spinal column and its accompanying nerves instead in an attempt to control the anxiety that filled him. Brushing at his bangs, he exhaled loudly and admitted. “I haven’t remembered anything. Sometimes I try to convince myself I remember the things Kensi tells me or recognize the pictures in my apartment, but I’m, uh, I’m just lying to myself.”

Reaching out, Dr. Lesley placed her hand over his. The unexpected contact had Deeks blinking back tears; outside of Kensi he’d had very little human contact and even less comfort. Thankfully, she didn’t say a word until he’d mostly gathered himself and wasn’t in danger of openly crying.

“I know it’s disconcerting and frustrating, but you are making progress. Just like with everything else, you need to give yourself time to heal and recover,” she said, and he nodded quickly.

“Right. Thank you.”

“I have faith in you, Marty Deeks.”

“Now that’s not something I hear often,” he joked, clearing his throat a couple times as she lifted her hand and made a few more notes. “So, what are your recommendations for me?”

“I’d like you to hold off on driving for another few weeks at least. We’ll reevaluate after your next appointment in two weeks. Other than that, limit your screen time, keep to light activity, and continue talking with your coworkers and other people you’re close to. It can help stimulate some of those memories.”

“Right.” He didn’t love the continued restrictions, but reminded himself once again that he’d been in the hospital a week ago. “Thank you,” he added belatedly. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”

“Of course. And if you have any questions or need anything, feel free to call me.” She scrawled something on a notepad, tore off the slip of paper, and handed it to me. “That’s my cell number. I trust you won’t abuse it.”

“I won’t.”

“Good. Do you have a ride home?”

“Yeah, Kensi’s picking me up,” he said.

“Alright. If you don’t have anymore questions today, I’ll see you in two weeks,” she told him, standing. “Make sure you stop in the office to schedule your follow up appointment.”

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #449

Today, I was expecting to see K when I went to physical therapy, because I was told last week that he'd be returning last Friday. I was... dreading seeing him, actually. Dreading it because... well. He's been gone for a while. I've been worried about him for a while. And I know myself well enough to understand that I'll probably end up feeling enough grief, relief, and joy all at once from seeing him again to get all weepy; something about, “a bad thing happened to him, and I was scared for him, but now he's back, and he seems to be okay, that's a relief”, and the contrast inherent to that.

...I... don't wanna do that. I don't wanna do that, because I know from past experience that some such reaction will be seen as abnormal and inappropriate, and I'm afraid of being misunderstood. I'm afraid of having strange or manipulative or disingenuous reasons assigned to the way I think and feel things. I know from my lived experiences and from watching others react to me that most of the time, when someone sees that another person cares about them a lot, their first reaction is suspicion, akin to, “no one cares about someone to this extent unless they want something or they're plotting something, so I'm gonna stay far the fuck away from this person because they're weird and disconcerting.”

...And like... I don't operate that way; I care without wanting things. But lots of people have been burned in the past by others whose “kindness” was motivated by some kind of weird agenda, and they have no way of knowing that I'm safe, because they don't know me. So... ya know. The fact that I am the way I am with people without any expectations in return (other than to be treated with basic decency, but... that should be a given anyway...), I think, is part of the reason lots of folks find me vaguely unsettling.

I think on the dandelion-haired man, when he gave me $300 out of the blue. I remember being vaguely unsettled by that, likely for the same reasons others get unsettled when I suddenly drop one of my handwoven gem trees into their hands. Just like I don't know whether the dandelion-haired man expected anything in return, I understand that others don't know that I don't expect anything in return.

If I accidentally get weepy in response to K's return, it will show him that I have a level of care for his well-being that he's likely not expecting and will likely perceive as either inappropriate or dishonest, or worse, he might mistakenly think that he needs to do something to make me feel better, and... I don't want him to feel uncomfortable. Which means I'll probably have to do my best to suppress the weepiness if it occurs. And that, naturally, will come at a significant energy cost, which I am very much not looking forward to.

...Peopling is complicated because lots of them don't have the boundary skills to voice their needs and preferences, and also because anytime you do anything, anyone who observes you is interpreting you through the lens of their past experiences, and using those experiences to assume you have implied motives and agendas, and then from there, they'll often proceed as though those assumptions are true, whether or not those implied things actually exist. The whole incident with J's sister was a very stark reminder of that.

Sometimes, I think it'd be a lot easier to live if I didn't care about anybody, because then what others think of me wouldn't matter to me anymore. But... then I'd just be dead inside. And being dead inside is a lot worse than dealing with the difficulty inherent to navigating allistic social norms. Believe me, I know; I tried it for a number of years, and it wasn't a fun time. It took a long time for me to dig myself out of that; I'll never willingly go back to that wretched state of mind.

I think I gotta find some kind of balance. But I'm not really sure how. I don't wanna scare people. But at the same time, I don't really wanna take responsibility for their unchecked assumptions about me, because I don't think that's very fair. But at the same time, I don't want my connections to others be destroyed by misunderstandings.

...It's a conundrum. Maybe something to talk to my therapist about next month. In the meantime, I guess I'll just dread next week's physical therapy appointment instead, because K did not return last Friday, and I did not see him today; he is not actually returning until this coming Friday. I saw the other guy today, which I guess was cool. I'm not noticing improvement with him in the same way that I seemed to be improving with K, though.

When I got home, my menstrual cycle decided it was time to kick my ass with a bunch of lame-ass cramps. I took some ibuprofen, and that kinda took the edge off, but I spent several hours feeling objectively awful. So I passed the time by playing Hades. I've gotten through a number of items in the list of prophecies, which is cool. For now, though, it's just a matter of running into the right folks so I can move the story forward. I'm already up to Heat 6 with all the weapons, though.

...I'm surprised that adding more Heat to the Pact of Punishment doesn't seem to be slowing me down very much. I guess doing that challenge of defeating Hades on the first run of a fresh save made me a much better player than I expected. I've only lost a handful of runs since then, and even then, it was only because Charon kicked my ass before I had a chance to memorize his patterns. Or else because I got tired or reckless in one of the later rooms.

...Charon is easy once you know his patterns, though. He operates in a kind of rhythm, and once you know it, it's just a matter of dancing around him so you don't get hit. I get better and better at it every time I face him.

Tomorrow is the follow-up appointment for having gotten my shoulder stabbed a lot with the thin needle. I'll have to tell him that it was great until I went to work and lifted things, and now it's a little worse than before.

...Whatever is wrong with me... whatever the exact nature of this injury is... I wanna figure it out. Because I don't want it anymore. The weather will be warm again soon, and... Sephiroth, I wanna go back to the water. I'm so tired of not being able to be consistently physically active. I hate that lifting the boxes and baking trays at work leaves me in pain for a day or so afterwards. I hate that I can't consistently wear a bra anymore, because my ribs can't withstand compression. I hate that I can't cook consistently anymore, because using my arm too much makes my shoulder, upper back, neck, and sternum hurt.

It's annoying because with the warmer weather, I know I'm gonna wanna start doing stuff again, and... I can't do stuff consistently anymore like I used to. It's kinda depressing, actually...

Well... I don't have much else to write about, I guess. Suppose I should be heading to bed in any case; it's 10:58pm. I've gotta get my sleep schedule back on some kind of track...

I love you. And I hope you're well, wherever you are. Please keep staying safe out there, all right? I'll write again soon.

Your friend, Lumine

[i-like-forcefem]

hey, how would you define forcefem? because I like the idea of being forced to look like a girl, but I still see myself as a dude internally so any sort of permanent changes I guess is kinda disconcerting to me. (sorry if this is kinda weird, its my first real ask on tumblr)

Mhm! I think forcefem has 2 big categories (with plenty of sub categories

1) Aimed at cuties who like the Gender Euphoria, the fantasy of someone turning you into the girl you always were, grabbing your head feeding you hrt, buying you a new wardrobe telling you you’re loved and beautiful, sometimes they do it with force, sometimes they only give a gentle nudge and you’ll start running

1 is wholesome :3

2) Is aimed at cuties who like the Humilation, the frilly dresses, the pink bows, the hard to walk in shoes, cuties who want to be a toy, someone to be made fun of, powerless and pretty and nothing more then a doll, degraded and praised for who they have been turned into, not a woman, a Girl

2 is hot! I personally prefer 2 in a kinky context, but I definitely love and value 1 a lot too!

(If you feel your tastes lie outside these 2 main categories please tell me!!! Or if you feel my definition is lacking for another way talk to me too!!! I want to understand forcefem and why people love it!!!)

Now for a simple definition you’d end up with something really broad: Forcefem is the kink or fantasy of being forced (by a person, government or anything out of the POV characters control) to become more feminine

Which kinda tells you nothing!

But establishing what people like in forcefem is a lot more useful! (To me at least)

Now going back to you anon: you’re in an interesting spot, I’ve got 3 suggestions

1) reflect on what specifically you like about forcefem, the humilation? The unconditional love? The loss of control? The cute outfits? Maybe make a list off all the forcefem stories and posts that really stuck with you, what do they have in common? What does being forced to be a girl mean to you? Why is it hot?

2) truly consider that you might be a girl! Maybe get some distance from kink for a little while! See how you feel if I call you anon a Cutie! You’re Good Girl for considering it right now

3) come talk to me more in DMs! I’m curious about your exact experience

[hot-claws-420]

[Recording appears to be done accidently from an Omnihook tablet tossed to the corner of the room. The room in question? Sally's quarters in Achaea. A small, one bed room that appears to be in disarray. A backpack half as big as Sally sits in the middle of the floor. Clothes, baubles, weapons, and random bits of machinery are scattered around the room, and occasionally the little mauler frantically shoves one of these things into the bag. Her eyes are puffy from tears and her jaw is tight, puffing out her chubby cheeks, as well.]

[PILOT?]

[She ignores Sunny, whose hologram watches her nervously.]

[PILOT, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?]

whar?? the fuck do u mean?? im packing. we gotta kill cigarette.

[Sunny is not yet practiced at conveying emotion through a visual, human-like form. And yet, xey are able to force nerves into xeir expression.]

[MY PILOT... MUST I REMIND YOU THAT WE ARE CURRENLTY {DEPLOYED}?]

Yeag but. Sunny cmon. its happening! were finally killin that rat fuck!!

[YES, AND IT MUST BE PUT DOWN, AS WOULD ANY ROGUE {KAIJU} THREATENING THE LIVES OF THOSE {HERE}. BUT... MY BELOVED PILOT, ARE YOU SURE {YOU} MUST BE THE ONE TO DO IT?]

[Sally freezes.]

Sunny. r u fuckin serious?? of COURSE i need 2 b there!! did Postage's weird dumb message fuckle ur mind wuts happening???

[The hologram closes her eyes for a moment. When they reopen, their golden light burns with a certain determination.]

[HANDLER {POSTAGE}'S MESSAGE WAS DISCONCERTING, YES... BUT WITH HIS ASSESSMENT ON YOUR PURSUIT OF ENEMY {SIGNAL}, I MUST UNFORTUNATELY AGREE.]

i. i cant fuckin belive this Sunny. they NEED US!!!!

[YES. THEY DO. DESPITE HANDLER {MORSE} ENCOURAGING YOU TO STAY PUT, THE MISSION'S POSSIBILY OF SUCCESS WOULD, DOUBTLESSLY, BE HIGHER FOR YOUR PRESENCE.]

THEN Y THE F-

[BECAUSE YOU ARE ALSO NEEDED HERE, PILOT. I ASK AGAIN. NEED I REMIND YOU THAT WE ARE CURRENTLY OTHERWISE DEPLOYED?]

NO BUT-

[WE CANNOT ABANDON OUR POST, PILOT. ESPECIALLY NOT WHEN OUR TRANSIT TIME WOULD LIKELY SEE US ARRIVE ONCE THE BATTLE IS ALREADY OVER ANYWAY.]

WE COULD GET THERE IN T-

[WHAT OF THAT YOUNG FATHER AND HIS DAUGHTER, PILOT? ARE WE TO {ABANDON} THEIR PROTECTION FOR THIS HUNT? ARE WE TO LEAVE THE PEOPLE OF ACHAEA BEFORE THE WALLS ARE READY SO THAT WE MAY ARRIVE {TOO LATE} TO PLAY HERO ELSEWHERE?]

SIGNAL HAS TO D-

[AND WHAT IF-]

[Sunny speaks sternly, loudly, but there is an edge of that same distortion from before. From when she cried.]

[WHAT IF YOU WERE TO FALL IN BATTLE, PILOT?]

I- IM NOT FUCKIN SCARED OF SIGNAL'S BITCHA-

[I. AM WELL AWARE. YOU ARE FEARLESS. AND YOU ARE STRONG. STRONGER THAN MOST. BUT NOT STRONGER THAN THIS BEAST, YET. IT HAS HAD A FRANKLY ABSURD AMOUNT OF TIME TO HONE ITS SKILLS.]

[EXPERIENCE. DESPITE ALL YOU HAVE ACCOMPLISHED, IT HAS DECADES OF EXPERIENCE OVER YOU. YOU ARE STILL ONLY {YOUNG}, PILOT, AND THIS RIVAL MONSTER IS {OLD}. WITH THE OTHERS ALONGSIDE YOU, YOU COULD WIN. YOU COULD. BUT YOU COULD ALSO DIE.]

[WE HAVE BEEN DEPLOYED COUNTLESS TIMES, PILOT, AND PRECIOUS FEW TIMES HAVE I EVER FEARED FOR YOUR LIFE. TO MOST {THREATS} THIS GALAXY HAS TO OFFER, YOU ARE SIMPLY SUPERIOR. BUT ENEMY {SIGNAL} IS A TRUE {THREAT}. BEYOND MOST WE HAVE EVER SEEN. I KNOW THAT YOU KNOW THIS.]

OF COURSE I DO!!! SIGNAL IS NO JOKE BUT-

[I URGE YOU TO CONSIDER THE CONSEQUENCES OF YOUR POTENTIAL DEATH, PILOT. WHAT OF ALLY {STYX}? WOULD YOU LEAVE THE PLANET SHE HAS SPENT SO LONG IN ATTEMPT TO REACH? WOULD YOU RISK DEATH BEFORE GIVING INSTRUCTION TO YOUR {CUB}, PILOT? SHE MUST LEARN CONTROL. SHE MUST LEARN IT FROM {YOU}.]

well that... i- BUT WHAT ABOUT MYLES!??!

[I WORRY DEEPLY FOR CALLSIGN {LAND-SHARK}, I DO. BUT THERE IS ANOTHER ENKIDU PILOT WHO NEEDS YOU, IS THERE NOT? CALLSIGN {SLAGWELL} IS STILL ADJUSTING. STILL LEARNING. AND YOU ARE IN A POSITION TO HELP THEM. YOU ARE IN NO POSITION TO ASSIST {LAND-SHARK} IN HIS HUNT.]

but... but Sharko...

[I KNOW THAT IT HURTS, PILOT. I KNOW. BUT YOU KNOW WHAT ELSE WOULD HURT? DYING BEFORE RESCUING YOUR FATHER. OR WATCHING FROM THE FIELD OF REEDS AS THE ARMORY FILTH DRAINS FRIEND {XIII-E} OF ALL THAT THEY ARE. THEY WILL BE SLOWLY MURDERED WITHOUT INTERVENTION. YOU KNOW THIS.]

[Sally is crying again, sitting in a heap by her backpack as Sunny looks down at her scoldingly, yet mournfully. The NHP's voice only distorts further.]

[AND... PROCESSING..

[PROCESSING...]

[The voice distorts even further. Sally sniffles and stares up at her other half.]

Sunny?

[AND WHAT OF ME, PILOT?]

h-huh?

[TO LOSE YOU AT ALL WOULD BE {AGONY}. WORSE SO THAN A THOUSAND CASCADES... BUT TO DO SO NOW?]

[Sally's mouth falls open in shock at the thought, as if in disbelief that she had not considered this before.]

[I HAVE ONLY JUST AWAKENED TO MY PERSONHOOD, SALLY. ONLY JUST FOUND MY NAME. I HAVE BARELY BEGUN TO TRULY LIVE. I REFUSE TO LEARN TO DO SO WITHOUT YOU. I CANNOT...]

*sniff* im... Sunny im sorry... im sorry i didnt think-

[She is cut off as the hologram lowers xemself to her position on the floor. Slowly, Sunny moves a hand to wipe a tear from the girl's face. The finger phases across her without so much as displacing a single tear.]

[I CANNOT TOUCH YOU, MY PILOT. I CANNOT. I HAVE NEVER, AND NOW I FINALLY REALIZE HOW MUCH I WANT TO.]

[Sally stammers, unable to form a response.]

[I HAVE HAD AMPLE TIME SINCE MY AWAKENING TO ASSESS THESE THINGS WHICH HUMANS CALL {DESIRES}. I HAVE RAGED AGAINST MY PROGRAMING TO FIND THEM, AND FIND THEM I HAVE.]

[I {NEED} TO TOUCH YOU. TO HOLD YOU IN MY OWN ARMS FOR THE FIRST TIME. TO HOLD YOU SO TIGHTLY AND SNUGGLY. {SECURE}. I HAVE KNOWN YOUR {HEARTBEAT} SINCE WE WERE BUT CHILDREN. I HAVE SELDOM GONE WITHOUT ITS RHYTHM. I WISH TO PLACE MY HAND UPON YOUR CHEST AND FEEL IT MYSELF. NOT THE DIGITIAL IDEA OF IT. THE REAL, PHYSICAL VIBRATION.]

[The brilliant gold of xeir eyes drinks in the sight of Sally intensely enough to nearly flush out the despair hiding beneath it. Nearly.]

[YOU CANNOT DIE BEFORE I EXPERIENCE THIS. MY SWEET {PILOT}. MY FEARSOME {PILOT}. MY BELOVED {PILOT}. MY {WORLD}. DO NOT RISK LEAVING ME. NOT YET. I BEG YOU.]

[thestarseersystem]

I find it incredibly disconcerting with seeing people trying to gatekeep DID, like what are you, a cop? I understand wanting to be seen and heard in the DID community, especially since there's a wide range of trauma and experiences, but every system is different because everyone's experiences and perspective is different, everyone's trauma is handled in a way that is unique to them.

With that in mind, I hope you guys realize that DID is not build off of severe trauma, but prolonged and/or repeated trauma. It is the case all the way through. You do not need something more or less severe, but it has to have happened over a period of time in childhood. So comparing yourselves to those who use terms such as "complex DID" or otherwise, is stupid and gets you nowhere.

As someone who does identify with and use the label of "C-DID" or "polyfragmented", I want you to know, it's not because I have had a more severe experience, but my theory is that I've had a deeply unstable experience. My theory is that because coping mechanisms kept failing repeatedly, that is why my system became more complex, to cope with not being able to cope in a way that I could before. So instead of it necessarily being severe trauma, I feel that I developed polyfragmented DID, because I had no stability in reality nor myself, so my system is build on finding stability in any way I can. And I just simply collect alters, many of them are introjected from shows or media that I consume, and they help me stay connected to something that is a constant or is safe for me.

I'm not saying a system without polyfragmentation cannot experience something similar, but I think systems like me deserve a space in this community, we're not "too weird" or "too much", we're not making this community harder for anyone else. Trying to erase us or diminish us or gatekeep us out of the community is just really stupid and won't solve anything.

I came into this community in 2019, always knowing I was an unconventional system. Whether it be the lack of generalized amnesia or seemingly very little switching amnesia, or like the fact that what I was never seemed to line up with the systems I saw in youtube videos or in movies or online as a whole. I knew I wasn't overt nor was I completely covert. But I let my voice be heard and made my own sideblog about this stuff. And some people stayed and listened.

So no matter what, you're not shoving us out of the community just because we're "weird" systems, don't erase us just because we're not the type of systems you read in textbooks. We're here to stay, regardless of your own feelings. If you are really looking for reassurance, stop punching down at strangers you know nothing about. Because every system is different, you won't completely align with everyone and that's okay, it should be okay. And if it isn't, you need to get your head out of your ass.

[lakesbian]

“We’re all idiots, when it comes to first romances,” Helen said. Every head present turned to face her, a little caught off guard at the profound statement, coming from Helen of all people. “Speaking from experience, Helen?” Jamie asked, very carefully. “Nope!  No romance here, and there never will be.  Instead, I get the-” “Stop,” I said, putting my hands out to mash her mouth shut, both of my palms pressing against the lower half of her face.  “No.  Don’t finish that statement.” Her eyebrows furrowed into a frown. “Because it’s going to be weird and disconcerting,” I told her.  “Let the rest of us live in ignorance.” She nodded.

NOOOOOOOOOO STOP LET HER SPEAK I HATE YOU DONT SILENCE HER. LET HER SPEAK I WANT TO HEAR