#so i might as well save myself the energy. this works fine.

[askfallenroyalty]

Yesterday's updates are now fully 100% captioned.

turns out i accidently deleted a page when i initially posted it. Thankfully it's not a super important page, mostly there to reiterate that Chara doesn't use their Save powers unless it's dire.

[nexus-nebulae]

im trying to learn how to better keep & reheat leftovers (bc if i dont know how to do a specific thing my brain won't let me try At All) and im getting better at eating bc im learning how to rely on food i know i like & lasts me at least a few days but is very easily heatable

[leclerc-hs]

save a bull! - cl16

pairing: bull rider!charles leclerc x fem!reader summary: in which a city girl meets a cowboy OR charles finds himself infatuated with the visiting city girl warnings: language, NOT PROOFREAD, no smut (maybe in part 2 if y'all want smut), bad writing (sorry lol) word count: ~4.4k author's note: HI. did you miss me? i sure as FUCK missed y'all. so I started writing this MONTHS ago but then took a very long break from this website and writing. it might be very shitty so i apologize for that. it was originally going to be just 1 part but I found myself writing so much that I think 2 parts will be better in the end. PLEASE REACH OUT TO ME WITH ANY FEEDBACK. sorry if this sucks. love you all.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Will you please just consider it!” Abigail pleads beside you on the sidewalk, weaving through the bustling crowd with an effortless grace. The sun casts dappled shadows on the pavement, and the scent of street food mingles with the crisp urban air.

The city feels particularly relentless as you trudge along the crowded sidewalk, your third cup of coffee from the corner deli clutched in one hand, its steam mingling with the bustling street air. Your shoulders droop under the weight of fatigue, a stark contrast to the frenetic energy of the city around you. Each step towards your office tower feels heavier, as though the concrete beneath your feet has turned to lead.

The tall buildings loom overhead, their steel and glass facades glinting under the midday sun, but their gleam only seems to amplify the oppressive weight of your exhaustion. The vibrant hum of the city—a symphony of honking taxis, chattering pedestrians, and distant sirens—becomes a monotonous drone.

Your dress, once crisp and sharp, now feels more like a burden, its fabric slightly rumpled from a day spent at your desk.

“I can’t take that much time off of work,” You say, your voice tinged with frustration but softened by a hint of regret. You’re caught in that all-too-familiar tug of war between professional obligations and personal desires. You finally get the chance to turn your head to look at Abigail as you reach a crosswalk, blinking not to cross. You see the disappointment flicker in your friend’s eyes.

“I get it,” Abigail says, her voice steady and tinged with understanding, “I know how demanding your job is. But that doesn’t mean you can’t work from home. Or take personal time. I know you have that option.”

You chuckle softly, admiring her persistence to some degree. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.”

“When is the last time you even took a personal day.”

The answer was never. But she didn’t need to know that.

“Will you stop begging me every second of every day if I say yes?” You ask, half in jest but with a trace of genuine curiosity.

“Obviously,” she replies, her smile widening as she sees the shift in your stance.

The pedestrian light turns green, and as you start to cross the street, you take a deep breath, blinking to steady your thoughts. “Fine.”

Abigail’s face lights up with a victorious grin, her eyes sparkling with triumph. “Really?”

“Yes.”

-

Nestled amidst rolling green hills and expansive grasslands, Abigail’s small family farm is a picturesque retreat. The scene unfolds like a charming pastoral painting, with vibrant hues of green and wheat fields stretching out as far as the eye can see, interspersed with splashes of color from blooming wildflowers.

At the heart of the farm stands a quaint, cozy house, its charm amplified by a wraparound porch adorned with potted flowers. The house itself is a delightful mix of rustic and charming, with its whitewashed clapboard siding, and a steeply pitched roof. 

Adjacent to the house, a well-tended vegetable garden thrives, it’s neat rows of tomatoes, lettuce, and peppers bordered by a low wooden fence. A couple of well-worn garden tools lean against a small shed nearby, evidence of the daily care given.

Further out, a classic red barn structure where a white trimmed roof sits atop. The sounds of clucking hens and the occasional bray of donkey create a lively atmosphere. Near the barn, sits a small paddock with a couple of playful horses, their sleek coats gleaming in the sunlight. 

The fresh air of the farm is almost a sensory overload compared to the city’s fumes. Unlike the city’s dense cocktail of exhaust fumes, asphalt, and various street food vendors, the farm air is pure.

As you sit at the kitchen table, the warmth of the farmhouse envelops you. The rustic charm of the kitchen, with its large wooden table and mismatched chairs, is filled with the sounds of cheerful conversation and shared laughter.

Abigail stands at the center of the room, animatedly catches her family up on the latest happenings in her city life. Her eyes sparkle with excitement, her gestures lively and expressive. The tales of the city hustle almost seem foreign in this serene setting. 

Danny and Luke, her two older brothers, sit across from you at the table. Danny, with his sandy blond hair and easy-going demeanor, leans back in his chair, his face lit up with a relaxed smile. He listens attentively, occasionally interjecting with teasing remarks or playful banter. His presence is warm and reassuring. His wife, Gianna, sits beside him with a small baby boy on her lap.

Luke, on the other hand, exudes a quiet strength. His dark hair is neatly tousled, and his gaze is both thoughtful and amused. His demeanor calm yet engaged.

“It’s so nice to finally meet the girl who makes our Abigail so happy in the city,” Abigail’s mother continues, her voice carrying a note of heartfelt sincerity. “She’s always spoken so highly of you.”

You feel a flush of warmth at the compliment, a mix of gratitude and slight nervousness at the attention all on you. 

“Thank you so much for having me,” You smile softly. “I don’t know what I would do without Abigail in my life.”

With a playful glint in Danny’s eye, he chimes in, “I do.”

The room erupts in a chorus of laughter, the sound ringing out with genuine warmth and affection.

You decided right there you may just like it here a lot more than you thought.

-

The silk dress that adorned your body was utterly unsuitable for the rugged rodeo environment, but you didn’t really care. The delicate fabric, with its soft sheen and flowing lines, clashed vividly with the dusty, rough-and-tumble atmosphere of the rodeo.

As you moved through the arena, the contrast became more pronounced. The silk, while beautiful, struggled against the elements—dust from the arena settling onto the fabric, and the occasional splash of beer threatening to leave their mark. The sight of your delicate dress among the crowd of rugged cowboys and cowgirls in their jeans, boots, and plaid shirts drew curious glances.

But you didn’t care. You liked your clothes, the luxurious feel of the silk against your skin, the way it draped with effortless grace. The expensive fabric was a statement of your personal taste, and you embraced it fully, regardless of the setting.

“You could’ve borrowed some jeans, you know?” Abigail chirps beside you, her jeans mostly ripped and worn matched well with her cowboy boots. 

You shrug your shoulders in a noncommittal way. “I’m going to head to the bathroom before this starts. Grab me a drink?” 

“Duh. See you at the seats?” Abigail laughs before sauntering off towards a beer vendor. 

You stand still for a moment, observing Abigail and her brothers joking around as they stroll across the lively rodeo grounds. You can’t help but smile at their playful banter, you didn’t have growing up.

As you watch, lost in the charm of the moment, a rough shoulder unexpectedly collides with yours. The sudden contact jolts you out of your reverie, and you turn to see a burly cowboy in worn jeans and a dusty plaid shirt. 

You swore he was one of the hottest men you’ve ever seen in your life until he opened his big fat mouth.

“You lost?” He laughs, his green eyes bright and mischievous as he adjusts the hat on his head.

“Excuse me?” You reply, a mix of confusion and irritation threading through your voice.

“The city is a long way from here,” He drawls, the smirk on his lips widening with a hint of amusement.

The combination of his cheeky grin , the twinkle in his eye, and the dismissive tone ignites a flicker of anger within you. It feels like a mix of condescension and teasing that sends a sharp heat coursing through your veins. You roll your eyes, unable to hide your annoyance.

“Thanks for the information, jackass,” You snap, shoving past him with a forceful nudge. You march away with purpose, the silk of your dress swishing around your legs with each determined step.

Unbeknownst to you, as you walk away, he can’t help but turn his head to watch the sway of your hips in the thin, delicate fabric. His gaze lingers for a moment longer than necessary, a mixture of surprise and lingering admiration in his eyes as he takes in your retreating figure.

A hand lands firmly on his shoulder, and a voice calls out, “C’mon Charles, you need to get changed.” The words cut through his moment of distraction.

With a slight jolt, he snaps back to reality and glances over, meeting the eyes of his friend who is already gesturing towards the changing area. Reluctantly, he shifts his focus and starts to follow, his gaze now shifting into a more focused, practical demeanor.

-

Finally settled into your seat, far too close to the metal fence for your liking, and smothered between Abigail and Luke, you feel yourself relax as Luke places a tall boy can of beer in your hand, the wet condensation soaking your hand. 

“Hope you can handle a beer,” Luke states, a smile on his lips. “It’s all they had left.”

You bring the can of beer to your lips slowly, savoring the crisp, cool sensation as you take a smooth sip. With a playful glint in your eye, you send a wink in Luke’s direction. “I promise I can handle a beer,” you say with a teasing smile.

Luke’s eyes crinkle at the corners with amusement, and he lets out a hearty chuckle. He lifts his own beer in a casual salute, the gesture accompanied by a nod of approval. As he takes a sip, the cool amber liquid reflecting the warm light of the evening, he meets your gaze with a grin that mirrors your playful confidence.

“So how does this work?” You ask, turning your full attention to Luke while Abigail and Danny are engrossed in their own conversation on the other side of you.

Luke raises an eyebrow in curiosity. “How does what work?” 

You gesture broadly with your hands, waving them in animated circles as you take in the bustling rodeo arena before you. “This,” you say, trying to encompass the entire scene with your sweeping motions.

As if gaining a sense of clarity, the corners of Luke’s lips tug upward. “Why don’t you just watch and find out? It’s about to start.”

You turn your head back to the dirt ring, feeling the adrenaline of the moment as you witness a big brown bull in the chute. Its snorts are visible through the gaps in the metal fences, each exhalation a cloud of steam in the crisp air.

A handsome cowboy, his broad shoulders accentuated by a fitted vest, mounts the bull with practiced ease. He glances up with a confident, almost cocky grin that makes your heart race even faster. Your gaze follows every move he makes, captivated by the way he balances on the bull’s massive back as the gate swings open.

The bull bursts into action, hooves flying and muscles rippling as it twists and bucks in an attempt to throw the rider off. The scene is a whirlwind of motion and raw power—an exhilarating display of skill and bravery. It’s almost surreal, the sheer intensity of the bull’s movements and the cowboy’s unflinching composure.

As the bull spins in tight circle, you glance over to the timer mounted on the fence. The seconds tick away, each moment bringing the eight-second mark closer. When the buzzer finally sounds, signaling the end of the ride, the cowboy springs off the bull with an effortless grace. He tosses a hand in the air, his expression nonchalant as if the wild ride was nothing more than a casual stroll.

The crowd erupts in cheers and applause, their excitement palpable as they all stand up with shouts.

You turn your head back towards Luke, one of the biggest smiles on your face as you meet his eyes in pure astonishment. 

“How about it?” Luke chimes in, taking yet another chug of his beer.

“This is insane!” You take another sip as well.

-

Charles lived for bull riding. It was more than just a passion—it was his livelihood. The cowboy lifestyle, with its raw, untamed essence, had shaped almost every aspect of his existence. 

To him, the bull was not just an animal but a formidable partner in a high-stakes dance of power and control. Two things Charles always loved to have. Every successful ride was a testament to his skill and courage, a dance with danger that left him both exhilarated and humbled. Like this ride. Right now.

He throws his hand in the air, the rush of pure adrenaline coursing through his veins. The feel of the dirt beneath his boots, the deafening roar of the crowd, and an impressive score of 91, was enough to send him shouting in joy. He let his eyes wander the crowd around him, taking it all in like he always loves to do. He livesfor the attention.

So, when he notices a familiar woman seated right before the metal fence, paying little to no attention to the dirt ring, he can’t help but feel just a little annoyed.

He also can’t help but feel more annoyed when he takes notice of that silk fabric again, immediately remembering when he bumped into your frame mere moments ago. Your cherry lips and silky-smooth hair flash into his mind. For a second, he almost forgets the fact that he’s standing in the middle of a dirt ring.

He can’t quite shake the memory of your demeanor and the way you seemed detached from the rodeo’s thrilling chaos. The way you could care less about who he was. It’s a curious juxtaposition against the fervor of the crowd and the adrenaline that still courses through him.

One thing about Charles was that he wanted attention, yes. But right now, he only wanted yours. With that unshakable desire in mind, he strides confidently toward where you’re seated. The metal fences between you both form a barrier, but that doesn’t deter him.

As he approaches, the crowd senses a shift in the energy and falls into an anticipatory hush. Their collective gaze shifts to you and Charles, creating a palpable focus on the interaction.

Charles, his presence commanding and confident, slips his hat through the gap in the metal fence, offering it to you with a smirk. The hat, wide brimmed and well worn, represents a piece of his world.

“To help you fit in better.” His tone a mix of challenge and amusement.

Without waiting for a response, he turns on his heel and finally saunters off, his gait relaxed yet purposeful. 

-

“What just happened?” Abigail smacks your arm, the one not jolding the hat, as you walk side by side. Her brothers loom behind you, their presence adding to the charged atmosphere of the moment. “Why did Charles fucking Leclerc just give you, his hat?”

You glance at the hat, a bemused expression on your face. “That guy is a total dick is what just happened.”

Abigail’s eyes widen, her excitement barely contained. “What do you mean!” She practically shouts, her voice a mix of disbelief and thrill. “He’s like famous here. Every girl probably hates you right now.”

“Why?” You ask, genuinely puzzled.

“Are you blind?” Abigail’s voice now full sheer joy. “The dude is practically sex on fucking legs. And he’s one of the best bull riders around!”

You look back at the hat again, it suddenly feels heavier in the grasp of your fingertips. “Charles Leclerc is a big deal around here. And he just gave you, his hat. That’s a huge deal.”

You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the slight flush of embarrassment creeping up your neck. “Well, it doesn’t change the fact that he was a jackass earlier. But I guess it’s good to know he’s a big deal around here.”

Abigail bursts into laughter. “You really are something else.”

-

The narrow aisles of the tiny market, with their cramped and cluttered shelves, had you aimlessly strolling in circles. The items on your list—given to you by Abigail’s mom—seemed to elude your every turn. The overhead lights cast a harsh glare on the disorganized assortment of product, making it difficult to find what you needed. You stood there, your eyes narrowing in annoyance, at the crumpled list clutched in your hand.

“Need some help, sweetheart?”

The sound of the deep, velvety voice was enough to draw your attention away from the list. You turned to see Charles standing not even a few feet away, a smirk playing on his lips as he leaned casually against a shelf. His eyes, green as ever, created a swirl of butterflies in the pit of your stomach.

Although you were known for your stubbornness, often digging your heels in even when it wasn’t your best interest, you had to admit you were out of your depth in the tiny market. There were no signs. No directory.

“Depends,” you reply, the hint of a playful challenge in your voice. Charles raises his eyebrows, a silent prompt for you to elaborate further.

“If you call me city girl even once,” you continue, your tone firm but light-hearted, “I’ll knock you right out.”

The challenge is met with a shit-eating grin, so wide on Charles’s face that it seems almost infectious. His cheeks stretch into an exuberant smile, his eyes sparkling with amusement. And it takes him one step, and one stretch of his arm, to snag that grocery list right out of your dainty fingertips.

-

“You’re cute when you’re real mad, y’know?” He drawls, placing the groceries into the bed of the pick-up truck you borrowed from Abigail’s family.

“I’m not mad.”

“You’re right.” He says, placing the final bag into the truck and leaning against the frame of it with an arm propped up. “You’re just cute.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Charles doesn’t miss the subtle flush the tints the apples of your cheeks with a delicate shade of red. The reaction stirs a flutter in his chest, almost like an addiction that he never wants to stop. 

You’re undeniably cute, with an effortlessly enchanting beauty that makes it difficult to look away. A magnetic pull that Charles just can’t shake. It’s almost as if he’s addicted to getting a reaction out of you. 

-

It’s been days of settling into the rhythm of farm life—enjoying family dinners filmed with hearty laughter and home-cooked meals, gathering around late-night fires that crackle and warm against the cool night air, and rolling up your sleeves to help with daily chores.

Even had a few more run-in's with the famous bull riding man himself. He was sweet, but you couldn't help but feel at complete unease around him. Not in a bad way, but in a my heart won't stop pounding against my rib cage kind of way.

Like when he covered you in his flannel at the latest bonfire, taming the rising goosebumps along your body.

"I don't need this, y'know?"

"Sweetheart, you're cold. Just wear the damn thing."

Or when you bumped into him at one of the farmer's markets and it took no hesitation for him to grab all of your purchases out from under your arm.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doin?"

"Stealing my stuff"

His laugh shot butterflies right into your stomach. "You're something else, sweetheart."

You make a point to be as involved as possible, driven by the genuine desire to contribute and make a sense of responsibility. 

“Should we hit up Rusty Spur’s tonight?” Abigail asks from beside you, her voice light and relaxed as she stands wrapped in a fluffy robe, freshly showered. She’s casually brushing her long, damp hair, the strands falling in soft waves around her shoulders.

“What’s Rusty Spur’s” you ask, leaning over the bathroom sink for a closer look as you apply your last coat of mascara, adding the finishing touch to your makeup.

“The bar,” she replies nonchalantly, her tone suggesting it’s a place she frequents often. “I think we need a night out.”

You glance at her through the mirror, a smile spreading across your face at the prospect of a night out. 

“Yes.”

-

Rusty Spur’s was the kind of country bar that instantly feels like home, even if you’ve never been there before.

As you step inside, the scent of aged wood, spilled beer, and a hint of smoky warmth greets you. The place is packed. 

The flimsy spaghetti straps of your short white dress dig into the skin of your shoulders, their delicate fabric offering little support. Despite its ethereal look, the dress feels unexpectedly snug against your skin. The soft white fabric sways with each step you take as you slip your body in between the crowds of people.

Abigail leads you to a cozy corner of the bar. Almost instantly, a bartender approaches, his familiarity with Abigail evident in the easy smile and warm greeting he offers.

You can’t help but notice just how easy on the eyes he is. He’s dressed, like almost every guy in this bar, in snug jeans and a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing strong forearms. His casual yet confident demeanor, coupled with the slight scruff on his beard and his easygoing smile, makes him stand out in the dimly lit bar. 

Within the span of five minutes, a chilled, neck-bottled beer is placed gently into your hand. Taking in the view of the crowd, which is large but not overwhelmingly so, you scan the faces around you. As your gaze moves across the room, no one stands out as particularly familiar—until your eyes land on a table not too far away.

There, seated with a group of friends, is Charles. His presence is unmistakable. Even from a distance, he exudes a charismatic confidence, the kind that draws attention without even trying. He’s relaxed in his posture, laughing and engaging with his companions, the flannel from earlier now swapped for a casual shirt. 

“Wanna dance?” Abigail chimes in your ear, her beer already half gone in the span of a minute.

-

It was almost as if Charles could feel your presence without even seeing you. The dim light of the bar cast flickering shadows. He leaned back against the worn leather of his chair, his senses heightened.

You found yourself completely immersed in the music, your body moving almost involuntary as your shoes glide smoothly across the weathered wooden floor. You’re not exactly sure when it happened, but your body eventually became pressed up against a random guy you’ve only just met on the dance floor. His presence both surprising and pleasant. He’s cute—definitely cute. His hands are gentle on your waist, guiding you through the steps with a natural rhythm. 

He twirls you effortlessly around, guiding your movement with a deft touch that brings a burst of joy. As you complete the spin, you find yourself facing him once more, his eyes twinkling down at you.

With a playful flourish, he slips his cowboy hat onto your head. You can feel the subtle press of the brim against your forehead, much too big for your head. You tilt your head back and laugh, the sound a melodic blend of joy and unrestrained happiness woven into the music. 

In this embrace, everything seems to align perfectly—the rhythm of the music, the warmth of the body, and the whimsical charm of the cowboy hat resting lightly atop your head.

“Do you want t-” The words began to leave the man’s lips, but they were abruptly cut off as a firm muscled arm shoved him away from your embrace. The unexpected force sent him stumbling back, surprise flashing across his face and yours.

The man recovered his footing, confusion turning into indignation as he glared at the one who interrupted. Charles. Meanwhile, you stood your ground, heart racing, caught between the thrill of the moment and unexpected clash.

If looks could kill.

“Dude, what the fuck?”

Large fingers reach for the brim of the hat atop your head, snatching it right off before Charles shoves it back into the man’s chest. “Don’t ever put a hat on her head again.” 

His voice was rough and terse, cutting through the ambient noise like a blade. “Let’s go,” He says, not giving the man or you a chance to react. In an instant, his fingers snake around your wrist, pulling you away from the dance floor and into the shadows of a secluded table ticked into the corner of the bar.

The abrupt shift caught you off guard, and your heart raced as he led you through the sea of bodies. The air between you was thick with unspoken words as he tucks you between him and the edge of the table. His grip on your wrist loosens, but his proximity is too close.

“What the hell was that?” Your senses heightened as your eyes locked onto his. The usual light green of his irises, often warm and inviting, was now obscured by a much darker hue, swirling with intensity and something primal. 

His gaze was pointed, sharp, and unyielding. You sensed a storm brewing behind those darkened eyes, and the air around you crackled with anticipation. 

“He put his hat on you, sweetheart.” You scoff almost instantly, bubbling anger simmers in your chest as you let out a soft laugh over the situation.

“Really?” You throw your head back for a mere second as the laugh pushes past your throat. “You shoved him over a hat?”

His eyes remain narrowed, the amusement that might have danced there moments ago, no longer present. “Do you even know what that means?” He presses, his voice low and intense as he leans into your ear, the weight of his words hanging between you.

“What a hat means?” Confusion flickers across your features. The question so out of place, and yet the gravity of his tone suggests otherwise.

Before you can grasp the implications, you felt his fingers sneak their way to you, warmth and firmness splayed along your waist. The contact sent a jolt of awareness through you, igniting the tension the crackled in the air. It was a possessive gesture. 

His gaze never wavers, and the connection between you deepens.

“You wear that hat; you ride that cowboy.”

For a moment, you freeze. 

“And in no fucking world, would I let you wear anyone’s but mine.”

[olivianyx]

I didn't knew u were a respawner! That's so cool, I've been on my respawn journey for like 1-2 months, I hope this is okay to ask but how is your respawning routine? Currently I am taking a break but I would love to hear abt your respawning journey so far :>

Heyy! I'm glad I find many people who are into respawning! Actually mine's a long ass story and you might wonder how am I even doing fine to this day 😭

Okay so long story short, let's begin.

Back in 2022, I discovered shifting. After finding out about loa in 2021, I was anticipated to shift realities just to escape this one. I hated being here. I was suffering with depression, bi polar, avpd, anxiety and maladaptive daydreaming, and I was from a toxic household with narcissistic, toxic and strict parents and fake af friends. It was really hard for me to even open up to somebody. It was hard for me to handle (actually I'm tearing up rn while I type this... Especially those traumas are the worst thing I ever experienced)

When I started my research about shifting, I got into amino. I saw the word 'respawn' and I was like tf is this?? I thought it was some gaming shit and then when I researched it on amino, I really wanted to go away from here and be happier than ever. I wanted to be in peace and do whatever I want in my reality. And no one should judge or stop me from getting what I want. I quickly scripted the place I wanna respawn, and other stuffs. I decided that I will get tf outta here.

Well because I had a reason that I'll respawn, I completely ignored my 3D circumstances. Like I stopped taking care of myself, stopped talking to people around me, stopped studying, stopped doing everything. I just was desperately trying to respawn every night telling myself that I will.

When in fact I was wasting my time and energy into lack. I almost didn't study for my finals and wrote the exams and hope that I'd respawn before my results will be declared. I used to keep time crunches to respawn, and when I didn't, I used to get so depressed, that I attempted to take my own life for the first time ever back in may 2022.

My brother accidentally entered my room and saved me from doing that. When I say I've almost attempted to take my own life for like 10+ times that same year, I still didn't give up. My exam results came and I luckily passed my exams.

So after all these I decided to give a break for 3 months completely for my own mental health. Ik my journey for 2 years wasn't smooth, it was full of ups and downs, and it messed my mental health up. I wasn't even using loassumption in a proper manner at that time. Ngl, I was so damn desperate for manifesting even the smallest stuff (I just wanna time travel back in time and slap the shit outta that version of me that I was back then 💀)

So when I got into a medical university in 2023 January, I completely forgot about respawning for a while. And again in October 2023, I logged into Tumblr, and became friends with one of the respawner Julie. She was so sweet, that she even answered every stupid doubts of mine (God give me Julie's patience 🗣️🗣️) she had respawned back in October 2023.

She was the one who told me 'SELF CONCEPT IS THE KEY!' so I started working on my self concept for like 1 and a half-ish months.... Well, I wasn't even perfect with it, but I tried. I did many challenges but the meraskii one had a good effect on my mindset. So last Christmas, I even learnt about the void (I hate implying it as void, I'd rather say it as I AM state) I wanted to enter it so bad.

I just did my affs, persisted in it, and listened to subs, and on Christmas Eve, I got into it successfully.

This year, I find respawning a very relaxing topic. Like I don't even get bothered by it. I know I'm already where I wanna be. And don't worry, my mental health has been good for a few days now. I was thinking of changing my script, so for the past 2 months, I've been scripting my new reality, well still it's only half way done hehe.

By the end of this month, I'm planning on respawning through the void. So till then I just wanna be thankful for everything here and enjoy every moment here without regrets.

Everybody's journey is different. All you have to do is embody your desired state. You just have to be the version of you having your desires. Be the one who already has it. For me, that took 3 years to click. I just had to relax and give myself in. Let go and enjoy the fact that I already have my desires in the 4d.

Ig this helped... any further doubts, you can ask me! Lots of luv 🤍🤍🤍🤍

- olivia 🤍

[meowmarkie]

nct dream as yearning songs

a/n! This is for funzies only! I don’t know any of them personally so I’m only comparing and linking their behavior shown through videos with the behavior of those I know in real life (me included). And also, If you haven’t listened to any of these songs, PLEASE give them a listen bc I feel like it’ll help you guys better understand my vision :)

Mark - End Of Beginning, Djo

Just one more tear to cry, one teardrop from my eye

You better save it for

The middle of the night when things aren't black and white

Enter, Troubadour

"Remember 24?"

Mark’s always talking about finally beginning a project whenever he’s with the dreamies, so I always get reminded of this song (that’s not the only reason tho) once the “is it really starting this time?” teasing commences — even though it might pass as a “funny” quirk, the need to establish out loud that they are “restarting” or finally starting things as if from scratch, might be because of something deeper. Mark seems like the kind of guy who works hard and reminisces about his past, especially when it comes to where it all (ironically) started. He works so hard and is almost never relaxing or taking a vacation, he says he’s fine, but since I'm a workaholic as well, I can tell you guys that we always end up breaking down because of how much stuff we’re doing. So, in those overwhelming moments, I can imagine Mark looking back to when he was in Canada, being able to rest and take in all the small pleasures the world can offer, not having to worry about his image, his feelings, his needs or if he’s “korean enough” to be working as an idol (idk about you guys, but that distinction between being a pure korean vs a mixed korean would drive me insane. I’d be so upset to always have to prove myself and prove that part of my nationality), reminiscing about the times when he was full of dreams, peace, and most importantly, energy.

You take the man out of the city, not the city out the man

Renjun - Abstract (Psychopomp), Hozier

See how it shines

Renjun is a very simple and honest man; he knows what he likes, what he doesn’t and knows how to set up his boundaries. However, he’s really sensible when it comes to life (in ALL its meanings), which is why I’m reminded of this song whenever I think of him. I’m grateful for all the things Renjun has shared with us, such as his mental health, hobbies and just his personality in general. Abstract is a song that shows how much its “subject” is sensible, brave (for jumping into traffic in order to rescue the dying/already dead animal) and never seems to catch a break, while the one singing (in this case, Hozier) can only take in the sight, not being able to do anything to help. In this analogy, Renjun is the subject and his friends/family/fans are Hozier, y’all. I feel like he strives to protect those he loves, and yearns for their well being when he can’t do anything to help.

(it was tough to choose just a small part of the song, when in fact, in my opinion, the whole thing describes him so well)

The speed that you moved

The screech of the cars

The creature still moving

That slowed in your arms

The fear in its eyes

Gone out in an instant

Your tear caught the light

The Earth from a distance

Jeno - Yes To Heaven, Lana Del Rey

If you go, I'll stay

You come back, I'll be right here

Like a barge at sea

In the storm, I stay clear

We’ve got ourselves a lover boy! No surprises there, I think. Even though this song comes from a female point of view, I think it still describes Jeno really well. Getting back on track, I feel like this suits him given the fact that when he likes someone, he likes someone — if he feels strongly like that, it’s even more intense when it comes to his loved ones, hence the song. Jeno would do anything in the world for his partner, and that includes fighting for them, to keep them by his side even if things get incredibly tough. 

His reason to yearn would be his person, before he even managed to win them over. Jeno would yearn for a life next to his loved one, for their acceptance and approval of him — nothing would make him happier than hearing a yes from his lover.

Say yes to Heaven

Say yes to me

Haechan - Gilded Lily, Cults

Now it's been long enough to talk about it

I've started not to doubt it, just wrap my head around it

I remember when you told me it's an everyday decision

But with my double vision, how was I supposed to see the way?

This boy is one of the most hard-working human beings on earth, methinks. Because he’s always giving, exposing and donating parts of himself to the world, not gaining anything back… The amount of hate and fake news he gets thrown at him is insane, being the reason why I always think of him when listening to this song. He has the biggest heart ever, and he pays the price for it every single day of his life. Haechan’s personality is bright and it should shine as much as it needs to, he might look overly confident but I wouldn’t doubt that in fact, he’s totally insecure about himself and about his skills, lost in the world yearning for appreciation. Gilded Lily suits him so much it actually pains me to make this connection anywhere other than my brain.

His hard work isn’t half as repaid as it should be. Some “fans” should be embarrassed to call themselves such when the first thing they do is to attack Hae.

Haven't I given enough, given enough?

Always the fool with the slowest heart

But I know you'll take me with you

We'll live in spaces between walls

Jaemin - Chemtrails Over The Country Club, Lana Del Rey

I'm on the run with you, my sweet love

There's nothing wrong contemplating God

Under the chemtrails over the country club

In another life, I believe that Jaemin could’ve been living peacefully in a suburb, white picket fences and all. This song is filled with nostalgia and the wish to run away with your loved one, which painfully reminds me of Jaemin. He’s the perfect man, the perfect gentleman even, so that’d make his partner want to elope with him. However, this image of him resides only in my (and now, your) imagination — that’s why I chose this song for him. Whenever I take in anything that Jaemin does, I can help but think about how I’d feel in his shoes: he had the plan to become a doctor, did charity work, played the piano, got good grades and was handsome. Having such high standards and some fondness towards the academic way of life, would I be 100% satisfied living an idol life? The answer is no, ergo my need to choose this song for him. If my hunch about Jaem is correct, he’d be yearning for the possibilities of having another life, especially when it comes to love. From what he has shown us, he wouldn’t be the type to voluntarily want to hide his loved one — I feel like he’d want to boast to the world about them.

I interpret this song as a life the singer would like to have had with their loved one, but couldn’t since the opportunity passed, and is now cursed to live forever with their “what ifs”.

My love, my love

Washing my hair, doing the laundry

Late night TV, I want you on me

Like when we were kids

Under chemtrails and country clubs

It's never too late, baby, so don't give up

Chenle - loml, Taylor Swift

If you know it in one glimpse, it's legendary

You and I go from one kiss to gettin’ married

Still alive killing time at the cemetery

Never quite buried

In your suit and tie, in the nick of time

You lowdown boy, you standup guy

You Holy Ghost, you told me I'm

The love of your life

I apologize in advance to all you Chenle stans out there for bringing this up, but… IT NEEDS TO BE SAID. He fits this song so much it’s actually insane. He doesn’t have many regrets in his life (as said by the man himself), so in a world in which he’d yearn, it’d definitely be because of love, hence why his song is loml. Chenle wouldn’t be able to get over his first love, leading to countless daydreaming sessions and longing sighs. He’d reminisce about his time with the person, over analyzing everything that was said and done, remembering even the smallest things the other person said he didn’t care about. Losing something makes you realize what that thing really meant, thus creating the eternal heartache of knowing that you took it for granted — despite all the fights and wrong-doings, Chenle would never be able to forgive himself for losing the person he loved.

His first love would stay with him forever, but as time goes by, they’d be only a soft memory instead of a lingering sadness.

Our field of dreams, engulfed in fire

Your arson's match, your somber eyes

And I'll still see it until I die

You're the loss of my life

Jisung - Brother, Kodaline

If I was dying on my knees

You would be the one to rescue me

And if you were drowned at sea I

'd give you my lungs so you could breathe

If there’s one quality I’d use to describe Jisung, It’d be loyalty. He’s extremely loyal towards his hyungs, and that’s why I chose this song for him. Once the dreamies weren’t a fixed unit, Jisung shared his fear of being alone, and without his older brothers by his side, he knew not of what the future had in store for him. Hence why the lyrics (this one in particular: When we were young, we were the ones // The kings and queens, oh yeah we ruled the world) and just the “desperate” vibes of the song scream Park Jisung. He loves the dreamies so much that losing them would be as devastating as losing one of his family members. We don’t get to see the clingy and soft side of Jisung as much as the boys do, but just because we as fans don’t experience it, doesn’t mean that they can’t feel it. 

There’s just not much to say besides that he loves his members to the point of sacrificing himself for them.

I’ve got you brother

The whole group - Home, Edith Whiskers ver.

We laugh until we think we'll die, barefoot on a summer night

Nothing new is sweeter than with you

I couldn’t do something like this without mentioning the dark period of when Mark was removed from the unit (sorry in advance <3), so here it is! Home would be their song from when they missed Mark, and kept reminiscing about their debut and previous comeback when their leader and older brother was still there with them. The song might come from a romantic point of view, but it’s just as fitting for a friend group, therefore making it perfect to describe the dreamie’s situation.

Losing someone important is awful, especially when that person is “removed” from your day-to-day life thanks to other people’s choices — it isn’t fair, and I’m sure the boys felt this way for a long period of time until they could shine again with Mark by their side. They’ve never been better and nct dream is now on the way to become even more powerful than before, and for that I’m incredibly proud of the children they were, who maintained themselves strong and brave throughout a heartbreaking moment. The dreamies deserve the best and my heart is at ease to see that their recognition is finally arriving. They are my home, and I’m sure they are your home as well :)

Oh, home, let me come home

Home is wherever I'm with you

[generalpalacefishgoop]

Interesting Richarlyson, Pomme, and qBad lore lines regarding qForever and/or @v@ or others (23 Dec 2023)

(not full transcript, just some i thought were interesting, also I'm not changing their typos on their signs n such)

with qPhil and qBad:

Richas :"Dad DID took a medicine but NOT this one" (Happy Pills)

Richas :"Tio Phil 0_0 it IS a medicine but…it is not taking effect. I knew it but, well, the only thing I can do is try to…ask help for someone but who knows where they are."

Richas :"Don't worry tios 0_0 killing him does nothing cause it won't do much now. If anything happen, it will be to me sO DON'T WORRY >:D WE CAN FIX HIM"

with qBad: after sending Pomme away for a moment:

Richas :"so they spoke about bad forever right? Take care of Pom and Dapper tio, I will take care of him dad is far gone, don't try to save him this is not a matter of a pill anymore 0_0 well KKKKKKKKKKKKKK NEITHER I DO KNOW LIFE IS CONFUSING"

Bad asking if "taking care" of him meant killing him

Richas : "KKKKKKKKKKK no tio nah nuh yuh"

Even if the pills aren't working, shouldn't there be some way to fix him?

Richas :"I mean there always is but…do we know how? I can ask tio but do you even know about a certain "dark cucurucho""

"That's the thing tio This is our only hint, for this, it's not a mather of sving him, but keeping dad alive I mean, he might be a danger to me but he is still my dad and better me than the others no? 0_0"

Nonono! what about nobody?

Richas :"thATS WHY KKKK YOURE A LITTLE GOSSIPER and you like dad forever a lot so I don't want tio to be stepping on landmines"

What about working together?

Richas :"Tio again 0_0 KKKKKKKKKKK again, he is far gone, idk how bad it was before Well, if that wakes dad up >:D"

"I mean yeah tio rn the only thing he would propose to in this state is satan so this is how bad it is"

Bad proposing different sleeping arrangements

Richas :"he don't want to kill me now tio 0_0 BUT at least not for today KKKKKK"

"i mean he shot tallulah so KKKKKKKKKKKKKKK But dw 0_0 I just want to say because tio, put energy on pom and dappe >:D"

Bad expresses concern towards Richas

Richas : "KKKKKKKKKKK I am a smart eggie tio, dw and honestly 0_0 it's dad, I will be fine either way, did anyone ever hurt and egg like this before?

qBad :"If you die Richas, I will crawl down and grab your soul and drag it back from the underworld myself, ok Richas? You are forbidden from dying, understood?"

Richas :"WAIT NOW I KINDA WANNA DIE JUST TO GIVE TIO THE WORK"

"if dad die pull him back for me, please"

qBad :"I will do my best Richas, I'll try"

Goes to look for Pomme, caught Pomme just staring a little too close at fire

Pomme :"hey :D"

qBad :"hmm…what are you up to?"

Pomme :"Nothing, dw"

qBad :"Oh. ok. Well if it was nothing, i won't worry about it because if it was something….you would say something…"

Pomme :"Just feeling a bit sad Just a bit worried of not being trust worthy"

qBad :"It's not that Pomme. It's Richas…he's concerned about you and so he doesn't want to tell you something because he doesn't want you to worry that's basically it"

Pomme :"Why? He doesn't need to be worried about me"

Richas :"KKKKKKKKKKKKKKK I have secrets with pom too"

"no no Pome 0_0 it's about dad forever"

Pomme :"I mean… I don't know, today has just been a lot I wasn't planning on keeping it a secret from you"

"It's more… of an idea than a secret But I'm not sure we should say anything about it "for now""

Richas :"BUT I can say hope you're fine pom 0_0 dw, take care of tio bad too cause he abuses his poor totems"

Pomme :"dw, I made it my duty to keep him alive like I kept you alive for 3 months you muffinhead"

Richas :"CALLATE KKKKKKK"

Bad starts singing a "we will keep Richas alive" song

Pomme :"A miracle tbh"

"Okay that song was comforting pfft and funny :') <3"

"I'm just… I just want to try my best, you know"

Bad gives words of encouragement

Pomme :"Today was honestly awful, I saw him SHOT my siblings and I couldn't hit him, because >I know< it would've make things worse"

qBad :"Yeah, I think you did the right thing Pomme, the way you handled that situation, I think you handled it very well. And I am very proud of you."

Pomme :"I was angry at him and I felt powerless and I hate this I hate this I hate this feeling, I always feel powerless things keep happening to us and I CANT defend them no matter how hard I try to train and have the best gear I'll break at some point, I can't tank it forever no pun intended"

Bad ensures her that she has people who love her for her to lean on

Pomme :"Dad everytime it happens when you are not here when our parents aren't here"

Richas :"I MEAN MINE WAS KKKKKKKKKKKKKK"

Pomme :"yeah, AND he was targetting richas I just made sure to be the LAST ONE to warp, to leave no one behind, besides Richas and what I did was waiting in front of RIchas' stasis enderpearland I WAS READY to activate it I GOT SO SCARED."

Richas :"KKKKKK Pom, thank you for those splash potions TAKING 20 BULLETS HURT A LOT KKKKKKKKKK"

Pomme :"I KNOW I WAS SO FREAKING MAD. I WAS JUST PRETENDING TO BUILD FOR HIM BUT KEPT LOOKING AT THE SIDE I had my freaking tomb digger ready to hit him to give y'all time to warp away At least Dapper taught me well"

Richas :"our goat sleeper"

qBad :"Let's go yeah! See, Pomme, what you just described is a perfect example of literally ALL of us together, have been able to help lift each other up, help make each other stronger. Your brother, Dapper, helped give you the skills you needed to be tough, he gave you knowledge and tools that could help you in this situation. Richas helped provide you with levity while you're out in the wilderness to help you have the motivation to stay alive yourself, right? Instead of doing it alone, you had this goofball to keep you company, right? Everybody in our life can help lift us up in some way, shape or form. What's interesting about burdens, Pomme, is the burdens that we help carry for others feel lighter to us because we're helping them and the burdens others help carry with us, feel lighter to them as well so when two people help carry each other's burdens where they can, it actually makes the weight lighter for both of them and that's what we're trying to do with you and that's what you're doing with us Pomme. You're shouldering a burden which is making it easier on your siblings, it's making it easier on everyone else, you know what that's called, Pomme? It's called love. That's when you love your family so much and you love your friends that you're willing to sacrifice to help them because you love them and you care about them, okay? So, you don't need to worry cuz we love you too, Pomme and we're going to keep you safe and hopefully you can help keep us safe and I just want to let you know we do appreciate it."

Pomme :"I will keep you safe, I would do anything so you all are safe

literally anything"

group hug

[louhilainen]

Why King of Scars sucked, part 1.

So after finishing the duology a few weeks ago, I finally feel I’ve healed enough to rant about it, lol. I don’t have the energy to talk about everything I hated about the duology, because I don’t want to waste too much of my energy and time on the bullshit called King of Scars. But since I’m such a bitter bitch, I’ll talk about some issues I had with it. Mind you, I might remember some things wrong, and I have to admit that I don’t want to reread the books in detail, so this can be taken with a grain of salt. 

So firstly let’s talk about Zoya, and more specifically her past and why it failed me (and I think lots of other readers as well) to feel any kind of sympathy for her. So in the original trilogy we learn that Zoya had an aunt and niece in Novokribirsk, a town that the Darkling destroyed in an attempt to show off his powers to foreign emissaries. That made her ally herself with Alina, despite her being originally hostile and mean to her out of jealousy. No other information is provided about her past, and we do not learn anything about her aunt or niece. IMO Zoya was a fine side character in the trilogy. She’s bitchy, full of herself, but she’s not insufferable, and I liked the growing friendship between her and Alina. I will always remember Alina squeezing Zoya’s hand when Alina and the gang feared being buried alive in the tunnels. 

In the duology… Well, we all know what she’s like there. She’s mean, but not in an entertaining way, but in an exhausting way. She loses her temper so often that whoever made her the general of the second army must have been out of their mind (Looking at you, Nikolai), yet everyone still gushes about how beautiful and competent she is (Despite there being no evidence whatsoever about her being a good soldier or a leader, expect that she’s kick ass strong Squealer I suppose.). Everyone fears her, but for some reason they love her. (Or so we are told by who else but Nikolai). 

In the duology Zoya’s tragic past is extended beyond the trilogy. We learn that she was a child bride, sold by her own mother to a wealthy and rich man, and her aunt saved her from being married and took her to Little Palace as her powers surfaced. Oh, she’s also half-Suli, but can pass as Ravkan. But I could not bring myself to care about Zoya’s sad past. I’ve tried to think about why that is, and I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s because Zoya’s past has no effect whatsoever on the story.

How her past/trauma is handled is a stark contrast to how Kaz's trauma is shown in SoC (Mind you, I have my own issues with Kaz and SoC, but let’s not go there). In the SoC we learn there’s something behind Kaz’s ruthlessness and drive in making money. We also learn he cannot touch other people with his bare hands and that there’s something going on with him and Pekka Rollins and it’s personal. All the hints make the reader curious about Kaz’s past and what exactly happened. Later on, it’s revealed that Rollins swindled him and his older brother out of all their money. Weakened, Kaz’s brother died to an epidemic and Kaz almost too. The whole experience molded him into what he was.  

(Excuse me, but this part of my rant may be foggy, because I cannot pinpoint exactly why I hated the way Zoya’s sad past was written, but I’ll try my best.) But Zoya’s tragic background isn’t shown like Kaz’s. It’s just told. Yeah, we already know Zoya had relatives in Novokribirsk, so there’s no mystery there like in Kaz’s case. But I argue that if the author could still have written in a more interesting way. As it is now, it just doesn’t work. Zoya’s sad past is just some kind of decoration, of which purpose is to make us feel sorry for her. I felt Zoya’s past didn’t explain or add anything meaningful about her character. If anything, it left me angry, because clearly I was supposed to side with her, but I couldn’t.

Kaz’s trauma is closely linked to who he is. If what had not happened to him, he would be an entirely different person. But all Zoya’s background offers her the reason to join Alina and to hate the Darkling. You could argue that it’s part of the reason why Zoya is so mean, because she doesn’t want to get hurt by caring about people (But she was mean before losing her family so…). But if that’s the case, then it was poorly written. As it is now, It doesn’t explain her behavior. If you took her sad past away from her, it would change nothing. (The only scene I remember making a difference was when Zoya got mad at the pilgrims, and made a storm that made her, Nikolai and Yuri to be trapped with the saints). So why even add it there? Who knows. My best guess is to earn pity points from the reader.

So I hope this makes sense. I really could have elaborated this more, but I just don’t want to, lol. But next time I’m going to talk about the holy trinity of the Darkling’s victims: Zoya, Alina and Genya. Amen.

[musashi]

feel like my current dose of adderall is making me worse and i am trying SO hard to puzzle it out?

unmedicated, i have to strongarm my brain into focusing, but i can. it is hard, and it is disabling, and it is ENERGY, but i can do it for certain periods of time and get stuff done. it's a lot like wrangling a child that doesn't understand patience. brain wants the short-term dopamine, i tell it "ok, well, we've worked hard for the long term dopamine before and it's felt great. we have evidence and life experience to tell us that it's worth it. let's do that." and my brain kicks and screams but ultimately will listen eventually

15-20mg adderall wendy can't seem to do that? i feel scatterbrained and fidgety but only internally. i feel my focus is worse. i sit there, i try to write, my brain opens a tumblr tab. i close it, i try to write, my brain opens a tumblr tab. it's doing all the things it wants to do when i'm unmedicated, but when i say my speech about long-term dopamine to it, it just goes "no <3" in a little bratty baby voice. and i try to reason with it, and it just keeps repeating that.

it's genuinely kind of terrifying, because i've never felt i had less control over myself, the ability to shut down my distracted tendencies with some effort just suddenly being gone is... kind of scary.

but more than i am scared (easy solution, talk to my psych) i am just... very fucking perplexed? how does that puzzle out, neurologically? if i have a dopamine disorder that makes me crave stimulation because i lack it, why would taking stimulants... make me less stimulated? why would it make me more distracted, IE seeking MORE sources of external stimulation like the instant gratification of social media? i'm genuinely fascinated what the hell is going on there.

if any young impressionable people are reading this, medication is not bad, it is life-saving, i am just testing out a new one lol. it might not be right for me, my dosage might need fine-tuning, who knows. i'm just musing aloud because i am utterly perplexed

[theultimatekamehamehavoc]

So, I've been thinking, as one does, and it's about Byakuya. Cus of course it is hehe. But anyway, I've joked to myself that, at least in my eyes, Byakuya's that kinda guy that can fit his way into almost any aesthetic flawlessly and to a scary extent. Yes, it's probably due to him being a tall, thin, androgenous twink. I DO think that his coindidence and energy as a human being contributes to him being able to fit these atheistic too. I mean, I got attached to his personality, backstory, and meme energy, not his figure. However, I think I can list a few things this man can't work with, in my opinion, with some biases here and there. 1. A dumpy mascot costume. Specifically thinking of him in a Monokuma outfit because of how small Monokuma's legs are, how long Byakuya's are, and how out of whack the proportions become with him in the outfit. Not even confidence can save him. 2. Those pants that have ass cut outs. His ass is near non-existent. Very flat. So, the holes would just kinda flap around unless he wore the tightest pants known to man but he might also get his blood constricted. Don't think it's worth it. Even if he did had an ass, I personally don't think Bootykuya Togami works for me. The Bootykuya Truthers can take him though I shall never claim him. 3. Clown noses This is entirely a me thing but my gosh. I find those things so disgusting. If they are perfectly spherical, even worse. Painted ones are fine but I just have a vendetta against perfectly round stuff with no texture and, sometimes, if it does have texture and is just too small, I think it's gross. So, I don't like imagining him having this on him cus I don't want him tainted. Probably a visual thing as to why I find them so disgusting but yeah! That's all I got for now. If anyone else has any thoughts on things Byakuya might not mesh well with, I am happy to read! These are just my opinions anyway though if I come up with any other ideas I'll try and make a sequel to this!

[doctors-journal]

8 August

Mum and dad convinced me to set up an appointment with a counsellor and today was the day. It was all the way in London, since I guess that’s where I’ve been living. I told them I could take the train, but mum and dad insisted on driving me and making a day of it, like we did when I was a kid.

Even though dad was taking the day off for family time, he and mum were up early anyway—they both get up much earlier than the detective. It’s been over a week, but they were still surprised to see that I was up first.

“You’ve become an early riser,” mum said as she joined me for breakfast.

I shrugged. “Doctors have to be up at all hours.”

Dad gave me a look. “So long as you’re getting enough sleep.”

At least I don’t think I’ve been shouting so much the past few nights.

The appointment was fine. I didn’t learn anything I didn’t already know. The counsellor told me to try not to be so hard on myself. She’s right, it’s not helping anyone, but it’s not like it would help anyone if I stopped worrying about it either.

Thankfully, mum and dad didn’t say too much afterward. Today was one of those nice, unseasonably cool, rainy days that London gets. Mum and dad didn’t want to walk in the rain, so we wandered through a gallery. I spent some time looking at the featured exhibit—a striking parade of human figures made out of printed textiles. Otherwise we just meandered through the halls, alternately admiring and puzzling at the art.

We went to a cafe for lunch and then spent a little while in a park afterward since the sky had cleared. It was a really nice day. The trees provided plenty of shade, their lush leaves still dripping with rain. There were some late summer flowers in bloom and squirrels chasing each other around the trees, and little robins flitting across the path.

Dad talked about work a bit, and mum conveyed some well-wishes from the neighbours. Most of my old school friends have moved on, but that’s old news. I mostly listened. In the lulls in the conversation I found myself wondering about how the detective is doing, but I’m sure he’s busy occupying himself with his Moriarty. Perhaps he has even found some other poor chap to drag along on his cases.

I also discovered something while we were out and I’ve just flipped back through my journal and confirmed it.

While we were walking in the park, the detective came up in conversation somehow, and mum asked, “What’s his name again? I know it’s over between you, but I feel like all I ever knew was that he’s a detective.”

“That’s about all I knew too,” I replied, “that he wants to be Sherlock Holmes and will accept no substitutes.”

“You wanted to be Doctor Who,” dad pointed out.

“Yes, when I was a boy. I grew out of it.”

“But you still want to save the world,” mum said.

“Not the world, just…” I couldn’t find the right words to argue.

I don’t even know what saving the world means. It’s definitely not solving crimes or even working in the hospital, and I’m not even doing that anymore.

What I said about the detective wasn’t entirely true either. I did know him, at least I thought I did. Underneath the cool, aloof facade, there was an infectious, nervous energy, a teasing sense of humour, and unshakable determination. God, I can’t believe I actually miss him.

And the whole time we were together, I don’t think I once thought of him by his name, or even wrote it in my journal. That’s what my mum’s question made me realise, and I just confirmed it. He called me “Doctor” and I just thought of him as “the detective.” For that matter, I’ve hardly used anyone else’s name either.

I guess I got so used to trying to keep my professional distance. Of course, I had to know my patients’ names to keep track of their records, but I tried not to get to know them too well, and I don’t remember most of them now. I couldn’t get too attached because they might be dead by morning. They all deserve better than that.

Well, for the record, the detective’s name—my ex’s name—is not Sherlock Holmes, though I’m sure he wishes it was. His name is Justin. I hope he’s not doing anything too stupid chasing after that Moriarty of his.

Now I want a cigarette, but I shouldn't.

Mum’s working on dinner now. I just wanted some space to compose my thoughts in between all the family time. But dinner smells good. Maybe I’ll go see if I can help.

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Kicho's Main Story Chapter 6 Premium

These translations are not intended as a replacement for the game. Please support cybird by buying their stories. JP SPOILERS under the cut. Expect mistakes.

Kicho: "...ive…"

Mai: "What?"

Kicho: "I want to live."

(----!)

I didn't know to whom he was directing those words, but I felt an electric current surging through my entire body, making it impossible for me to stay still.

Mai: "Pull yourself together! Right, the pistol!"

Mai: "Maybe if I shoot the door with it, it might open, or the sound will alert someone!"

(I don't know if I can shoot well because I've never used it, but I can't leave him in this condition.)

(I need to do something.)

I was about to take it from his hand with my trembling fingers when一

Boom!

Mai: "!?"

The door swung open, and two heavy-looking boards fell, letting in the blinding light.

Mai: "You're..."

Motonari: "Ha! Serves you right, Kicho."

(Good, he seems to have calmed down a bit.)

Patting my chest in relief, I sat on the chair near the bed.

I brushed away the hair sticking to his side and gently wiped his forehead, making his eyelids twitch.

(Oh...)

Kicho: "Mai?"

Mai: "You okay?"

Kicho: "Yeah, sort of."

He slowly opened his eyes and turned his gaze toward me.

Kicho: "This is my room. What happened since then?"

Mai: "Motonari helped us out."

Mai: "Your subordinate, working with me, called for help when he came to the side of the warehouse and noticed something strange."

Kicho: "I see. We were saved."

Mai: "Yes."

(I wonder what would've happened to him if we had stayed trapped in there.)

(No, I don't even want to imagine it.)

Kicho: "It's already dusk? Looks like I've been out for a while."

Mai: "Yeah. I think you've been asleep for a few hours."

Kicho: "You've been here all this time?"

Mai: "Yes, of course. I was worried. Besides, I could call someone right away if something happened to you."

Kicho: "I see. Sorry I bothered you一Guh."

Mai: "Please don't force yourself to get up."

I hurriedly held him back as he tried to sit up.

Kicho: "............."

Mai: "Are you okay? Don't push yourself too hard. Just sleep."

Kicho: "I'm fine, just dizzy."

Mai: "Dizzy? That's not normal."

Kicho: "Then, I’m not dizzy. Anyway, let me go."

Mai: "Nope, you need to lie down."

I put some force into my upper body and pushed him down onto the bed.

Mai: "Uh-oh..."

Suddenly, my vision shook, and I fell.

Kicho: "Mai."

(This looks like I'm pushing him down!)

Mai: "I'm sorry! I didn't do it on purpose! I was nervous, so I had no energy left."

Kicho: "I know. But you're the one who needs to take it easy."

Mai: "----!"

He put his hand around the back of my head, and he gently brushed my hair.

Kicho: "Thank you for taking care of me."

Kicho: "I feel much better now, so you don't have to worry anymore."

Mai: "O-Okay."

Ticklishly, I pulled myself away and sat back in the chair as he carefully sat up and turned to face me.

Kicho: "By the way, why were you alone?"

Kicho: "That merchant guy never showed his tail, but I knew he was up to something."

Kicho: "That's why I sent you with my men, so you wouldn't be alone."

Mai: "He approached me earlier, so I decided to meet up with him."

Mai: "Could it have been a trap itself?"

Kicho: "Maybe, but there's no way to confirm that now."

Mai: "I'm sorry. I'll be careful not to make a rash decision next time."

Kicho: "Vigilance is necessary, but you don't need to apologize. You're the victim."

Kicho: "If there's anyone to blame other than that man's malice, it's me. I scared the hell out of you."

Mai: "That's not true. I'm really glad you showed up."

Mai: "Also..."

(What the hell was up with him back then?)

Kicho: "You look like you want to say something."

Mai: "Is it that obvious?"

Kicho: "I knew what state I was in, even if I couldn't remember much."

(So this is not the first time this has happened, and he knows what's causing it.)

(I really want to know, but it's too hard to ask.)

Well, at least I know that it's probably not some trivial circumstance.

Kicho: "What's wrong?"

Mai: "I'm not sure if it's something I should go into."

Mai: "But if you tell me, I can help you next time."

Mai: "I didn't know what to do earlier, so I got confused."

Kicho: "..............."

Kicho: "I'm not asking you to be helpful, but I'm willing to talk to you about it."

Mai: "Are you sure?"

Kicho: "It's better than having an unfamiliar gun in your hands due to confusion."

Mai: "Ugh. I'm sorry. I was desperate back then."

(I'm really glad Motonari helped us.)

(If I accidentally caused an accident with the pistol, neither he nor I would've gotten away unscathed.)

Kicho: "It's a kind of disorder."

Mai: "Disorder?"

Kicho: "Your world has several terms for it. To borrow a name from there, I'm claustrophobic. Do you know about it?"

Mai: "I'm not really familiar with it, but I've heard of it."

Kicho: "I see. As the name implies, this is something that develops in enclosed spaces."

Kicho: "Several things can trigger this. One good example is being in a small, dark place."

Mai: "So staying inside that warehouse triggers the symptoms."

(I'm not claustrophobic, but I was also scared of being trapped in a place like that.)

(I'm sure it was more frightening to him.)

My heart hurt as I remembered the way he looked earlier.

Mai: "When did you start feeling like this?"

Kicho: "I don't know. I just found myself in this situation."

Kicho: "Though I think it's probably due to my childhood experience."

Kicho: "I can still remember that dark, cramped room."

Mai: "Room?"

Kicho: "I asked you about your life before, so this time, let me tell you mine."

(I can learn about his past.)

Perhaps because of the tension, the air around us felt heavier as the tightly closed door of his heart was now slowly opening.

Kicho: "I was originally a different person who never existed."

Previous Part╏Masterlist╏Next Part

[nerves-nebula]

Are you ever you ever insecure about your art? And could you explain you answer to that?

Venting to you now

Drawing has taken a lot of effort for me, more than usual recently. I started working on something I originally felt really passionate about. It's more common for me to very quickly give up or get bored so I was really excited to be able to post some artwork. But I ended up not liking the result and I'm not sure if I'm willing to try something else. I've given up on trying in a lot of parts of life to try and save energy to do something I thought I was passionate about (art) but I am still lacking the motivation. The reason I reason I really wanted to share it was because I'm terrible with self-motivation. If I can't make at least one person genuinely go 'oh, neat' even for just a second and even if they soon forgot later, I'd feel like I'd have a reason to keep living (to keep making art). If the only people who'd see it end up disappointed I'd want to disappear.

It's not what art should be. I know it's value is like a person's. It's worth more than how someone reacts to it, right? But I can't apply that rule to myself. I should seek support from the people who 'know' and actually care about me, but I don't want their appreciation. I want some imagery status of a 'good artist' because that's what seems to give me dopamine.

I also wanted to mention how much I admire how open you are with your struggles. I want to be the same but I'm scared of people thinking less of me. I know that's dumb but I don't know what I'm good for if I can't make people happy. If I'm not going to be content with myself I want to not be a nuisance at least. I like to think that if I stopped caring about my impression on people, I'd be better off. But I'm scared that I'd have to learn to like myself. I don't like myself and I have no interest in liking myself. I don't see the point.

oh boy, this is gonna be a long one. also, don't take anything i say too seriously, i don't know your situation and I'm barely an adult. anyway, response under the cut

soo lately I'm less insecure about my art and more frustrated when things don't come out well. but i still post that shit !!! I'm still insecure if i'm doing, say, a project for homework, and i don't think i did as well as I could have, but in my personal artistic endeavors it's more about getting it done than it being perfect (for example, my webcomic! my motto is any comic made is better than no comic made and if people don't like that then it wasn't for them in the first place)

the thing about me is that drawing and art and stories is all i've ever had. it's my main form of interacting with the world. these days i make art the same way I live, which is to say in spite of wanting to kill myself. I would LIKE if my art was perfect, and i would LIKE to not be in pain. but i AM in pain and i have to live anyway, and my art ISN'T perfect but i'll make it anyway.

and i like when other people's art isn't perfect either, when it isnt super polished. I think that definitely helped. seeing artists whose work i fell head over heels for when it's never been more than sketches and a bit of shading. it really cemented in my mind that it isn't art being technically perfect that makes it worth while.

i've gotten a lot of people saying kind things to me, saying how much they enjoy my art and my blog in general. and though it doesn't always help, it sometimes inspires me to imagine the number of people who appreciate my stuff who might never mention it to me. I myself am used to lurking and not interacting very much (a habit I'm trying to change since I know artists & creators love feedback most of the time) i know it sucks to not know if anyone gives a shit for sure, but you really can't make that your only reason for doing art, cuz half the time you prolly wont even know if your art deeply affects people or not. it's fine to want that attention but you gotta have something else goin on too, at least I do.

i also know the fear of worrying that you'll lock yourself into something you don't want to do, or something you'll lose passion for. for me, I generally rotate a cast of characters & interests around for years a time before making significant progress. There were spans of times where I'd go years without thinking about loose stitches, but none of that time developing other stories & characters was wasted. it gave loose stitches enough time to properly cook, and the story is still developing under my hands as i draw it, influenced by my other stories and other characters.

it's ok to abandon something and pick it up again years later, or to never pick it up again at all. it's ok to hate the way something turns out but to keep making it anyway because you have to move forward (at least, I do)

moving forward despite not liking the original product is the only way to progress, I think. I don't super like a lot of the first pages of loose stitches but I'm still grateful that past-me posted them because that means present me is at page 76 !!

If I can't make at least one person genuinely go 'oh, neat' even for just a second and even if they soon forgot later, I'd feel like I'd have a reason to keep living (to keep making art). If the only people who'd see it end up disappointed I'd want to disappear.

the problem with this mindset (in my opinion) is that some people aren't going to like your art and that's got nothing to do with the art itself. if you want to find people who go "oh, neat" then you have to keep posting until they see it. trust me, they're out there. like, i don't post for people who can't stand the idea of child abuse, i post to FIND people who want to interact with stories about child abuse the same way i do.

it would be insane to stop trying to find those people because someone else was disappointed or upset by my art. which isn't to say you gotta lock yourself into doing one thing, but that you gotta post what you care about, and people who also care will find it. posting fandom stuff with the same themes as your original art certainly doesn't hurt either, if you REALLY want to find those people faster.

It's not what art should be. I know it's value is like a person's. It's worth more than how someone reacts to it, right? But I can't apply that rule to myself. I should seek support from the people who 'know' and actually care about me, but I don't want their appreciation. I want some imagery status of a 'good artist' because that's what seems to give me dopamine.

art should be literally whatever. it's worth is literally whatever you want, it can be a big deal or not. i'm not sure what part of being a "good artist" gives your brain the Good Feelings juice but I'd investigate that feeling more and try to figure out the roots of it, cuz then you might actually be able to figure out what it is that motivates you. approval is nice, yes, but i like approval for things i enjoyed making even more.

I also wanted to mention how much I admire how open you are with your struggles. I want to be the same but I'm scared of people thinking less of me. I know that's dumb but I don't know what I'm good for if I can't make people happy. If I'm not going to be content with myself I want to not be a nuisance at least. I like to think that if I stopped caring about my impression on people, I'd be better off. But I'm scared that I'd have to learn to like myself. I don't like myself and I have no interest in liking myself. I don't see the point.

i always find it amusing when people refer to my "struggles" if only because I don't really consider them that way. to me it's just like, a thing that happened that sucks. i don't consider myself "struggling" with it, even though I guess that's what's happening. also, let's be real here, it's not like I'm using my real name. this is an anonymous tumblr blog. though, my openess on here has actually lead to me making more art about it IRL so. eh.

anyway, lucky for you, you can stop caring about what other people think without necessarily liking yourself! for me, it's about spite (sort of). I don't like myself much more than I used to, I just decided I hated everyone else more haha. I still care what people think about me, and I'm still scared of what people might do to me, but I'm also not bending over backwards to please people i dislike. I just get annoyed at them instead.

i did this basically just by repeating it until it became true, lol. there's only so many times you can petulantly say "well fuck those guys anyway they suck" before it becomes your true first reaction.

at some point, i decided i needed to pick and choose who i wanted to please, because it can't be everyone. that's just literally not possible. so i looked at the kinds of people i liked and appreciated, and basically disregarded everyone else. it's the whole "don't take criticism from someone you wouldn't take advice from" thing (not sure where that comes from)

obviously you should probably try to internalize the idea that you even HAVE to be "good for something" but that's way easier said than done. i find it more useful to devote yourself to finding a few things (causes, people, philosophies, niche interests) instead of just general usefulness. because then you can form stronger relationships, be useful, AND not burn yourself out trying to please everyone.

take all this advice with a grain of salt though, I definitely need therapy and this Bitter Angry Defensive persona will probably need to be deconstructed soon... idk. i think it's outlived its usefulness to me but i'm not sure what to do next hahah.

sorry if none of this was helpful or the point. im not even sure why i wrote this much, i kind of just ramble sometimes. i hope you figure it out!

[zeawesomebirdie]

for the fic ask game :D 🙌 🥘 🦗

[for this ask game here]

Thanks for the ask J!!

🙌What's a line or paragraph of yours that you're proud of? I'm giving you two paragraphs, one from a posted fic and one from a wip >:)

From Distractions, Distractions [brudick, rated E, underage]

Bruce Wayne was not the kind of man who hid from others, particularly not when he had something he needed to discuss with them, regardless of what Alfred might say to the contrary. Yet he had spent the majority of his day in the Manor rather than in the Cave, even though Dick had the day off from school and had announced at breakfast that Bruce was welcome to come down with him. No, he was not the kind of man who hid, but at the same time, he was also not the kind of man who could picture himself walking down to where his partner was likely turning cartwheels, nor could he see himself telling Dick just why his costume needed changing.

(yes that is the very first paragraph shhhh I've never been more proud of an opening before 😌)

And from a brudick wip I'm writing for @ful-crum in which Dick and Bruce fuck in the Cave and Dick mistakenly believes that they'll be able to be together now, only for Bruce to ghost him for two months straight

That was the crux of it, in the end, the grit of sand that irritated his heart into submission: that night of The Incident had been a one-off, and it was obvious that Bruce had meant nothing by it, no matter what Dick thought would come of it. And that was fine, or it would have to be; after all, Dick had had a few one night stands before, and while it wasn’t his preference, he could understand the appeal of such things to people like Bruce. Dick was just going to have to take the L, then, because otherwise he was going to mope his sorry ass into nothingness, and then what would become of him? It would have to be fine, there was no other choice, even if he was going to remember that night forever as one of the rare moments he and Bruce were truly a team again.

🥘What wip are you most excited about? Um, well, does all of them count?? Because I really don't think I could choose just one to be most excited about, honestly. The closest to actually being finished is another little insomniac!coldflash one shot for Stories I Tell Myself When I Can't Sleep, after that, the aforementioned brudick fic for @ful-crum is the most complete, and I've got half of a 5+1 Dick fucks Bruce to distract himself from his emotions written, and for the brubarry Old West!AU I've got all of Bruce's arc plotted and half of Barry's arc at least planned. And then beyond that, there's a dickjay gameboy fic and a 5+1 times Riddler saves Robin!Dick in the works, both of which I'm also excited for (and don't even get me started on the three wips I have for Bad Things Happen Bingo, one of which is for MASH, one for Star Wars: Legends, and one for Gunsmoke). Which one I'm most excited about depends on my mood and my energy, I suppose (yeah that's a non-answer, sorry!)

🦗Do you write in sequence or jump around? Mostly in sequence, but I keep a notes doc for every longfic so that I can jot down scene ideas whenever they occur to me!! Though with the insomniac!coldflash one shots, those I'm writing out of order bc they really weren't meant to be more than a one-off thing, and I'm still plotting the whole longfic that'll eventually give context to the one shots; that's just not normally how I do things, normally I write pretty sequentially ^.^

[bygetoacademia]

100 days of productivity update

Well...

I didn't manage to get through even half of the challenge, but it's not the first thing I've failed at this year so it's fine. Maybe I'll try again next semester.

Gloomy yap sesh

Truth is I'm tired mentally. And I've been like this for a really long time, it has just amped up to great heights recently

It sucks watching myself lose interest in absolutely everything. I don't have the energy to talk to my favorite people. I haven't touched a book in ages. Anime is starting to be a lil boring. I don't react to any Suguru content. I scroll past satosugu videos on TikTok like they're ads... It really breaks my heart because I want to be interested in all of these but I'm not and that's that.

To make things a little bit worse, I caught a cold so I feel extra crappy and I can't smell anything, which means bath time therapy won't work. And it's that time of the month so the hormones are doing their thing and I'm at my absolute lowest rn.

It's times like these I wish I had somewhere to escape to. If I had enough balls I'd ask my cousin or one of my aunts to let me visit them just for a week to get some air. But I have negative balls so here I am yapping on Tumblr while eating the most tasteless rice of my life.

When I made the decision to move back home I asked myself one simple question: Money or Mental Health. After a few weeks of pondering I decided to go the money route because I thought I was a strong little girl but boy was I wrong!

Did I save some money? Yes! absolutely but I'm in shambles right now even the voices are concerned

Every time I try to bounce back with The Power of Positivity™ I get knocked down within an hour. I don't even want to bother anymore

"Why don't you talk to somebody" Idk, everybody has their own thing going on, big things as a matter of fact and me coming with my little issues might seem a little insulting to them.

Besides if I try talking to somebody around me they might:

Blank stare + I can't help you with this one

Say "that's bitch shit"

You're being dumb on purpose bc you know exactly what to do which is true but not necessarily simple

Do I feel better after this rant... Not necessarily

[asheanon]

While the Ethereal Genome concept has yet to be tidied up, I would like to take the time to finally write out that aforementioned "little something" regarding Terra, Garland and Ethereals.

(The one perk to this having taken this long is I actually have even more to write here! That being said, this one is pretty sizeable. I highly advise not clicking that little "read more"/"keep reading" bit unless you're fully committed!)

To begin, we'll start with talking Terra. Terra, on its universal pursuit for answers as well as other planets and their crystals, making use of their magical "fusion" art to try to elude the "decay" all the while, acquired energy sources as needed along the way to fuel their travels. One of these energy sources happened to be Etherealism - namely, remnants of it. As novel as I make Etherealism out to be, honestly, you can find it in various shapes and sizes all throughout the cosmos. And because they are comprised of energy (and are spectral entities as well, which have more or less been confirmed as an energy source in various Final Fantasy worlds. Shout out to fantastical fossil fuels!) these remnants proved quite successful as fuel.

However, they weren't merely reduced to fuel as they did in fact prove quite fascinating (and they were looking for answers to their crisis any and everywhere, of course!) They were initially taken in as a subject of study as well, but their research only really boomed when more complex forms of Etherealism (something more than these inexplicable fragments of light, ions and mysterious soul-like matter just floating around like space debris) were encountered.

Now, as for why I decided Terra shares some notable history with Etherealism in this story, there are quite a few reasons for that...

▫️ The Desert Palace

Look, it's the room I constantly keep forgetting about! Therapeutically forcing myself to acknowledge its existence today. 😎

Once I realized the likelihood of Kuja kidnapping any number of the "main cast" at one point or another for any duration of time throughout this story was notable, I knew I was going to have to better arm him as well as the palace itself to hold them hostage.

Why do that? Well, I have a story to write and it lends itself to the storytelling! Look, they'll be fine.

As the plot currently stands, there's at least one Ethereal in the party and detaining them is no easy task. Not only can they spook their way around a little bit here and there, but they're dangerous and have the potential to just destroy everything if things get heated (quite literally) and they feel threatened. Now, you could argue that they might hesitate when it comes to being destructive, given other lifeforms being present and not wanting to harm them - plus, even in the case of going ghost mode, they couldn't help out their friends that way. However, spoiler alert: at least one of those Ethereals may not care about saving friends, so... playing on their emotions isn't enough to keep them all in, sadly. It'd work on only one of them. Which isn't enough for me..!

So, I felt Ethereal countermeasures should be considered - and I figured these countermeasures could be made possible if Ethereal research had already been integrated into Terra's history - at least enough to where, to some extent, they knew how to contain it and subdue it. The more I thought about it, I realized it actually was more than possible for them to encounter Etherealism during their cosmic travels of yore. So, I decided to roll with the idea!

Seriously, they'll be fine. Trust me!

▫️ The Ethereal Genome

So... with every cosmic horror comes the horror element, right? And Ethereals easily fall into a cosmic horror category!

If there's anything we've learned from the genre, making use of an alien body in any capacity can prove volatile, yielding both grand discoveries and tragic consequences... (Once again, I'll make an FFVII comparison: they essentially did this with Jenova; just imagine the Terrans did something similar with Ethereals in this particular story. Kind of.)

Among the consequences of handling Etherealism was one of its most toxic traits: Ethereal radiation...

Countless Terrans were lost to this silent, but deadly long term killer before a more viable safety protocol was established. Protocol that was able to be passed on to Garland once he was created, who would proceed to elaborate upon it himself. For many - and I mean m a n y - years, Garland was successful when it came to working with Etherealism. However, there was still room for error. Particularly when the creation of Genomes began. One singular Genome, one singular encounter with improperly contained Etherealism and a whole lot of luck (or lack thereof) later... rather than the discovery of a lesser Genome slowly expiring, one would be made of one slowly being "infected" by Etherealism.

This lesser Genome became a harbinger of many future Genome deaths. She grew to eventually be a source of this Ethereal radiation, a contaminant allowed to walk free, unknowingly poisoning her own kind as they just as unknowingly allowed themselves to be - until those radiation levels were detectable/detected by the systems in place and their source able to be singled out.

When Garland finally became aware of this, rather than doing what some may consider reasonable (such as attempting to terminate her and/or casting her out of Terra) he decided to do what any of the more scientifically-driven or the cliché "mad scientist" sort would do: cut his losses for the sake of the learning opportunity at hand. There was no way he could literally throw that away. And so, he contained this Genome as he would any other Ethereal remnant.

In containment, she remained for a very long time as well. For study and for safety. While containment method was the same, the study was a little more complex than what would be applied to your "average" Ethereal remnant. (A bit like keeping a venomous snake, studying its venom, hoping to develop an antivenom, etc. That and things of the like.)

One day, however, after Kuja has his "little" meltdown in the main FFIX storyline and destroys Terra, she would finally be freed from containment. Cast from a state stasis, essentially - energy deprivation - and no explanation just to be immediately subjected to all this radiation and energy from the overly-abundant use of Ultima and the chain effect of the Iifa Tree going haywire (remember the mist tangent and me talking about how wild of a ride it can be for Ethereals to encounter and especially intake? Keep that in mind) this makes for a very Not Great™️ experience for this little Genome gal.

Despite the chaos of it all, however, she does manage to make it out! To the Shimmering Isle, where she hardly makes it beyond the now dead portal, huddling up, curling into a little ball somewhere amidst its edifices. Tormented and traumatized (even more.)

While this Genome bears the usual stoic to be expected from her kind, because of her Etherealism, she did actually have time to grow a little bit, in a way - or at least the Ethereal part of her did - just enough to grant her the ability to think and feel things outside of the usual lesser Genome range. Just enough to be troubled by the things that happened to her, on some level. 🥲

I would like to note one little detail here: I've taken a bit of a lore dive with Terra and Genomes, yes, but nothing too dreadfully deep, so... I will confess, I'm not actually all that sure if the lesser Genomes would have names! They were essentially vessels without souls - once given a soul, they would be given an identity by extension. In that respect, I formulated the headcanon that these guys have no identity until that transpires.

If that is incorrect, I'll be more than willing to make that correction. 💙 Until then, though, that is the lore!

The Ethereal Genome technically bears no name until later in the story, having earned it outside of Terran means. She eventually is named "Yoko." (Given that Mikoto's name is Japanese in origin, I thought I'd play off of that and have Yoko's name also share some Japanese roots! One of "Yoko's" various meanings translates to "sun child" or "child of the sun," which I thought was more than appropriate for an Ethereal kid.) ☀️

▫️ The Treasure Map

(God bless "treasure map" stock imagery. I didn't need an image, but I wanted one since the other two had some... hahaha!)

Lastly, but not least-ly! Has a little bit to do with that silly little map and the treasure hunt escapade it forges as well. There is Terran symbology and Ethereal reference alike made among the many associated puzzles and clues.

Why exactly this is, I'm still admittedly brainstorming, so I can't quite go into too much detail with this point yet. However, the connection in cryptography is definitely there. I still feel it's worth mentioning, in that respect! It could very well be a point I return to and elaborate upon someday in the future as I have the previous ones. 🤔

(Of which, I will say that's how Kuja got sucked into the whole thing and what ultimately leads to taking the main gang hostage too! I'll leave the full story for later or for an actual bit of story that may be written in the future, though.)

[freezing-kaiju]

Lunatic of the Flesh

@my-ceiling-is-tilted 's Biotober prompts 7, 17, and 25: Cancerous, Mutation, and Infection.

Warnings: extreme body horror, werewolves, biting and neck trauma, intimacy, it's about a werewolf themed resident evil infection going horribly wrong so make of that what you will! it's also a bit t4t

---

The bus stop close to my old home has been chewed on.

Bites have been ripped out, glass lines the bench, and, on the metal, patches of fuzz grow, waving in the wind. There’s the sound of crickets and toads, but no cars, nothing save for the bus rattling away behind me and the wheels of my baggage against the ground.

The plants grow thick, choked with weeds and bursting with gorgeous flowers, except for patches here and there that lay covered in hair. Great tendrils of matted fur, gray and blue and black, swaying like grass in the breeze. Deer bound through the distance in packs twenty strong. 

The bus patrols exist for the infected. I’ll count as one soon, so it’s fine.

I fix my makeup in the window. Wouldn’t want to disgust them. After all…

——

…they’re beautiful.

Not from tip to toe, I know that. Slinking through the forest, I see some dragging massive, misshapen claws, some dangling boils, some with extra halves of jaws. Their hunts of the massive deer seem mutual; their destructive power is so increased, but the deer are so much faster, and they’re working so hard to catch their prey. Their imposing snouts, so well-suited to eating and howling… their ears, so soft-looking, so perfectly pointed… their backs so arched, their tails so long and fluffy, everything about them is so. Unbelievably. Perfect.

And yet, none of them are the right one. Maybe they know this; the first to catch sight of me slipped its pulsing violet eyes away not a moment after, likely out of disinterest. Maybe the foliage, leaves and bushes dead and alive, hides me perfectly.

Maybe… I’m already something else’s prey.

I stop, look behind myself. Nothing but the same fallen leaves concealing the same insects, the same trees looming thin and tall above me like the bars of a disorganized prison, but…

Above me.

Something flicked.

I look the rest of the way up and drop my luggage.

A wolf. Poised between the trees, spread on all four of its pristine limbs, a massive, gorgeous wolf.

“RUN,” it cajoles. 

I can’t.

The few tendrils that shiver on its body are symmetrical. Its teeth are so well-kept they shine. Its third eye lingers above the left one in the exact place a chunk of winged eyeliner would be, adding to a glorious air of cuntiness that its breasts only further contribute to. Those claws— oh, what I wouldn’t give to be pulled apart by them! And the chest fur… those patterns…

“RUN,” it says again.

“I cannot.”

“TOO WEAK?”

“I refuse! I will join you without wasting your precious energy.”

“JJOIN?”

“I’ll join your pack! I’ll become part of it! I’ll make you MINE!”

The wolf’s chest swells with what had to be pride. Two of the branches I thought might impede it if I needed to run cracked beneath just this simple exertion. “A WEAK HUMAN...WANTS TO JOIN? THE PACK? MINE?”

“Your pack, and nobody else’s!”

“WHY?”

“Because I know you! Do you not recognize me?!”

It took in a shuddering breath, paw scratching its chin in what would be a human gesture were its claws not out and drawing blood. “RECOGNIZE...YOU?”

“Y…” I planted my other foot and stood my ground. “Yeah, Winnie. I came all the way back to meet you again. You…”

God, from the Kingdom Hearts pattern on the chest fur to the strange piercings, she was precisely the same.

“You look like the fursona I helped you make.”

Both paws slammed down in the snow. The wolf’s great head, it—

A motorcycle’s worth of predator.

Launched.

Towards me.

In that moment, I processed it quite like someone had thrown a car at my face, and screamed.

The wolf stopped short. 

“IF…I AM WINIFRED… I AM? WINIFRED?”

“Y-yes,” I said, “yes, definitely, you are her and she is you.”

“I…CAN BE HER… THEN, I AM HER.” Winifred rises, not to her full height but a hunched position, like she speaks not to prey but to someone shorter than herself. “AND WHAT WOULD YOU HAVE HER DO?”

“B….bite me. Infect me. Love me! Love me like I always wanted you to, my dear friend, my beloved, make me yours!”

Winifred licks her lips and leans forward, snout inches from my face. “STAND UP…STRAIGHT. NECK OUT.”

I comply, face burning, soul weeping for joy.

Her mouth closes round my throat, and I can….I can feel the moment she penetrates me. Sharp. Clear, but right, I gasp for air and—

And I feel something pumping into my throat.

Dutifully, I swallow, wishing it were in my mouth, wishing I could taste the beauty that would now swallow me whole. I’ll be different, not this ugly, useless thing, but something sleek. Agile. Beautiful. Something that’ll make this all…worth…

——

Before my fur grew in, the hair I’d taken such care to mediocrely raise fell out in clumps that left me sobbing on the bedroom floor. I fear I’ve not lost cause to weep, nor have I stopped looking so…bald.

The glorious snout Winifred bears never grew in properly. My new ears came in in twain, perfectly shaped… the only thing in this wretched body to not split and pustulize. They top a sunken face, one I can hardly see from when my maw splits it to feed. If I look down, I behold a series of lumps; whether breast, stomach, tumor, or chin, I’m incapable of telling. As Winifred tells it, I have a centaur’s form… what grotesque parody of Greek myth she knows, I can’t imagine.

Perhaps I’m meant to have so many, such engorged and muscular legs, maybe their desperate uncoordination is the movement I deserve. After all, this form… I have no clue of the full extent with it, the last mirror brought within my sight is still shards on some barn floor. But I can feel my stomach churn with more than meat, feel parts of myself bloat with a thing beyond blood and meat. Winifred, too, is sometimes…

That venom she pumped into me, so clean and clinical, I… I drool it now. It fills my mouth and drips out when I breathe, onto buckets or the floor of our hideaways. At least, when she isn’t looking.

When she is, my mate licks it from my lips like a woman possessed. 

I can’t fathom it, neither the eyes left on my face nor the ones that dot the rest of my body like moles can believe how hungry she’s become. She comes home from hunts or meetings dragging cow after cow, sometimes a bag of human food too, and sets upon me with her tongue and hands faster than I can whimper a greeting. Every hair-coated fold of my body she cleans, licking as if hunting for some buried treasure. Are my moans that rewarding? Is my pain what she wishes? Does she want me to bite back? I can’t, I won’t, my maw will… it’ll do too much damage, truly. I can feel my vestigial tails flop and writhe as she buries her face in my part. When her paw holds the one of mine small and shapen enough to hold hers —I felt every agonizing moment of my right fusing together, and my second left is a mass of knotted fingers— those tails crack and sting with how forcefully they wag.

“My moon,” she calls me,  her tongue still exploring an area I’d never wish to touch myself, “my gorgeous moon, the hunt was so long.”

“I am,” I choke out the rote response, “sorry I couldn’t go.”

“No, be thankful. The others spoke covetously of you. It gladdens me��to have you all to myself.”

I feel something bubble up within me, and in a moment of terror, know not if metaphor can affect this husk.

“You’re…just…saying that because you’re stuck with me…”

She laughs at that, a barking laugh, one whose charm I’ve still yet to reach. Have I laughed recently? Only when she stimulated me to, only in…what could be called roughhousing, had I not fallen over, had she not treated me with pup’s gloves afterwards. 

“No??? I, like, treasure you,” Winifred said, tongue taking a rest from its travels across my taint. “This was all so lonely before you became—“

“Trapped?”

“What?”

“Trapped, isolated, burdened,” I found myself saying, coughing out each word within a mouthful of venom and teeth, “made into something— something disgusting, something that weighs you down, something that—“

Winifred leapt up from under me, growling like a chainsaw. I folded under those three burning lime eyes, but, curiously, when I silenced myself and slunk lower, Winifred’s own tail and ears dropped back too.

“Selene, I didn’t— never did I consider that—“

“You are a wolf! You’re perfect, everything everyone who’s ever been an edgy adolescent yearned to become! I am…”

“Selene.” Winifred’s paws reached up, squished together my cheeks, forcing our eyes to meet. “I am… the perfect specimen of a normal beastic wolf, yes. But you…” She pressed our snouts nearly together, “you are something special. Your mass of gloriously haphazard legs, your imposing form, every perfect eye and lovely tendril— and your soft, downy fur— and your tails! Their excitement is so… you’re so…”

“It hurts to move,” I whimper. “It hurts to breathe.”

“As does it for me, too,” Winifred admits, and shakes herself off, parts of her arms I never even thought had joints cracking like thunder over the plains.

Her…her own breathing is ragged, too, isn’t it? Winnie’s rib cage had always flexed and contracted, like a butterfly flapping its wings, in a way that I always thought was painless but…

Maybe she’s in as much pain as me.

And maybe...

Ah, she's started with her tongue again...

....maybe I can lose myself in it, too...