#talkin bout trauma

[todayisafridaynight]

latest animatic took me longer than i should have not because i take nine years to draw animatics its actually cause i had to look at sawashiro longer than usual and the longer i did the less normal i became and i needed to stop and fan myself like a bar maiden every now and then

[gemsalive]

re: that HEFTY siffrin sweep on id5’s isat favourite blorbos poll — this might sound silly but i do actually think it’s kinda fascinating that isat, as a game so inseparably steeped in (for lack of a better way to describe it) queer fandom culture, managed to so completely sidestep the common Fandom Phenomenon that i suspect was behind the poll in the first place by creating a main character that is also overwhelmingly the fan favourite character for once.

obviously there are any number of factors we could point at to explain the extent to which siffrin nomiddlenames nolastnames manages to grab people and absolutely not let go, but personally i think one of the most interesting ones to consider is the one specific to the medium — that is, how siffrin subverts the “silent blank slate video game protagonist” archetype in such a way that happens to be primo brainrot breeding grounds.

like, when a video game dev makes a silent protagonist it’s usually a bid to maximize immersion by closing the aesthetic distance between player and character as much as possible, right? which is especially true of rpg video games — players find connection in the generic, as that is what gives you the freedom of motion to insert yourself into the story in whatever unique shape suits you best. you are your character and your character is you.

(as ever, post ran long. yall know the drill. tossin in a quick header pic before thoughts on blank slates & blorboification continue under the cut)

and then you’ve got siffrin, who is expressly pointed out to be the taciturn type; who when initially giving the player exposition about their journey so far doesn’t seem to hint at a life or history or even really any motivations outside the journey; whose every thought and action is narrated in second person so as to keep tracing and re-tracing the connection between him and you.

even their design — all darkless and shapeless, bundled up in that big cloak, as if an invitation for you to fill it in with whatever lets you relate to them most! at this point they are their own character for sure, but they also have enough very clear parallels going on with the silent protagonist archetype to feel more than accidental.

of course, as you keep playing you start to recognize that his blankness is much, much more than just a grab at immersion; his apparent lack of backstory, itself a fundamental piece of backstory. this is where he flips dramatically in the player’s perception from “generic vessel for story delivery” to “thoroughly multidimensional character trapped within endless torment nexus custom-built to target and exacerbate all his very specific worst traits rooted in very specific traumas”.

yknow, the good stuff !

but by then you have also been playing enough to be feeling the effects of the thing isat’s design does best of all. i’m talkin bout that ludonarrative lockstep baby. every piece of isat’s gameplay is designed to make you feel what siffrin is feeling — you understand by now that he is not a stand-in for you, but all the same you share in his frustration, his grief, his rare moments of joy and the subsequent heart-in-your-shoes devastation when that joy is inevitably poisoned — and through it all, the desperate grasping for anything new — all as if they were every bit your own.

so in this way the connection is maintained, even if you were someone for whom siffrin’s particular traits & struggles might not otherwise cause you relate to them at all if you had encountered them elsewhere, in a setting where you weren’t actively controlling them as a player. siffrin still gets to carry all the “just like me fr” impact of the blank slate protagonist in the tropes he embodies and in the game mechanics’ design, while totally free to evolve completely into his own character and keep you relating to closely them all the same. now toss back in the fact that said traits & struggles very much ARE of a flavour that a great many people Would Tend To Relate To and just like that you’ve got a perfect storm cookin.

too individual and compellingly written to be an empty vessel for plot delivery. too closely connected with the player’s emotional state to be a story observed impassively from the outside. he has 92 mental illnesses and for the low low price of free u can give him yours to carry too. nobody is doin it like him. congratulations on your well-deserved nose sniffrin nomiddlenames nolastnames <3

[luciferlightbringer]

Love in a Hopeless Place

Chapter 10

Chapter 9|Chapter 10|Chapter 11|Updated through Chapter 12

Lucifer x prostitute fem!reader Word Count: 3.6k CW: Slowburn, Angst, Prostitution, Hurt/comfort, trauma, fluff, depression, anxiety, insecurity,

Over the next couple of days, Charlie and the hotel crew started to prepare for their little "intervention" dinner with her dad. Charlie and Vaggie worked together to make up dinner while the others made sure the place was kept up, mostly Niffty.

Later that night, Charlie heard a knock on the front door. Was that him? Why didn't he just teleport in like usual? Charlie went to open the door and saw Lucifer giving his big focused smile.

"Charlie! It's so good to see you," he said enveloping his daughter in a big hug. It had been weeks since he had hugged anyone, the sting of how much he missed it had started to grow back.

"Hi Dad," Charlie said hugging her father back tightly and swinging him around. "I've missed you so much, it's been weird not having you around as much."

Lucifer tightened his grip on Charlie as they hugged, "I'm- sorry about that sweetie, I just... got busy. I'll try to be better about that, I promise."

Charlie loosened the hug enough to study her dad's face, it was tired and worn out, he looked like he hadn't slept in days. Lucifer tried hard to keep his facade up, but he knew his daughter was trying to read him.

"Dad... are you sure you are ok?" Charlie asked with concern.

"Yes. Why do you ask?" he said still trying to hold a smile, holding a silence but futile prayer that he could find a way to fool her into thinking he was ok.

The other members of the hotel, Angel, Husk, Niffty, Cherri, Vaggie, even Alastor started to walk in from the shadows of the hotel lobby.

"Cuz, with all due respect your highness," Husk chimed in "One, you are a bad liar, two, we actually do care about you," Husk looked over to Alastor out of the side on his eye, "well... most of us care about you, and three... we are also worried about (y/n)."

"Ya!" Angel added in, "You two were a couple of peas in a pod, she was even talkin' 'bout wantin' to move in here, den 'poof', ya both are nowhere ta be seen fa' weeks. What gives?! I thought we mattered to you guys!"

"Ya! I miss you and our girl, where is she?!" Cherri pipped in, "We loved watching you two hangin' out here togetha."

"She was a bad girl! But she was really nice! I liked when she would listen to me talk about my bugs fights!" Niffty added, holding up her knife.

Alastor sighed, "Honestly, I'm mostly here for the entertainment of your sorrow... but (y/n) was important to the growth of the hotel and it's community. Plus, she amuses me. I had grown unfortunately fond of her charms," Alastor said with a wicked smile, his comment made the room pause a moment, Lucifer glared at him.

"We miss both of you, sir, it's just not the same here without you. We just kinda feel like we've been left in the dark," Vaggie added, rubbing her arm.

Lucifer sighed, he didn't realize just how much you had meant to not just Charlie, but to the entire hotel. That you guys together had been. It was important for them to know the truth.

"Ok, ok... I'll tell you the truth... but it isn't going to be pretty," Lucifer said with shame painting his face. Lucifer went to go sit on the couch and the others came to sit around him and listen to the story. Lucifer gave an abbreviated story of the last several months of his time with you, truth that you were actually a prostitute he had hired, the story with how it all started with the conversation with Ozzie, the first appointment and the chaos and joy that cam from it, how you had helped him to connect with Charlie and the hotel again, how you supported either other through the stresses of the war with Heaven, how he protected you, how he realized he had fallen in love with you, and then the last night you were together, the blur and confusion of it all, and how finally you had banned him from being able to be scheduled with you again and how you had been told that the whole dynamic was just her acting like she cared about him. He didn't blame or try to paint you in a bad light, he was just defeated and sad.

During the story, the group went through a series of emotions, all of them now understanding why you had not able to talk about your relationship with him at all.

"Damn it! No wonder I liked her so much! She's in da same industry as me!" shouted Angel when the story was over, "She felt so kindred and I couldn't fuckin' see it. Oh, she is good."

"So... none of your relationship was real?" Charlie asked, sadly.

Lucifer shook his head, "No... no I don't think it was."

Husk shook his head, "You're wrong." Everyone looked at him. "Something here doesn't add up, Angel, Cherri, you remember our conversation with (y/n) the night before the war with heaven?" They nodded, Husk looked at Lucifer, "The only lie I have ever seen (y/n) tell you was that she was sad that night because of the war, which... she still was... but the reason she was sad before you came over to check on her was because she was sad that she could not be honest with us about your guy's relationship. We had asked her about what was up because you guys seemed more than friends, and she told us she could not talk about it. And she has tried to bluff some things about how she presents herself before when we first met her, probably all just to protect the secret you guys had. Trust me when I say, she was never fake with how much I saw she cared about you."

Lucifer shrugged, "It doesn't seem to matter though it though... in the end, she banned me."

"Why?" asked Angel, "Did she tell you? Did you ever hurt her?"

"No. Someone else at the place she works called me and told me, she was gone or... something. I don't know if I hurt her, never physically, but I was so drunk at the end of our last night together... I don't know what I did or why I got banned... and I'd never want to cross a boundary like that... she's had too many fucked up people in her life... I don't want to add to that club any more than I already had," he buried his face in his hands, "it sounds like keeping the secret was already a lot of weight on her, I didn't realize..."

"King, listen, I've been in the sex business for a long time, nothin' about this situation makes sense ta me, both from a sex worka' standpoint or from what I know about her. Did you pay her well?" Angel ask inquisitively.

Lucifer nodded, "Ya, I gave her big tips too, I wanted to to be happy and get what she needed."

"No good sex worka' in their right mind would full on ban you for one weird night, even if you did rough 'em up a bit. You told us there was some other client that had been roughin' her up a bit that you took care of. Tell me, did she ban him on the first night of havin' any issues with him?" Angel asked. Lucifer shook his head, starting to think about Angel's words.

"Right. So unless she was stupid, which I know she aint, she wouldn't've cut off probably the best paycheck in hell just because you had one sloppy drunk night where something may have gone weird. Also, on top a dat, sex worka's can be good actors and can pretend like they care. But they try not to get attached, and like Husker said earlier, she got attached, and boy it was obvious. That's probably a big reason why I didn't sus her out sooner. By da time we met her, nothin' about ya relationship was actin' anymore, on either side. Cuz you love 'er, dontcha?" Angel pointed while he leaned back on the couch.

Everyone looked at Lucifer, he nodded, "I do, I love her."

Angel nodded, "And you would do anythin' to make 'er happy, including keepin' yourself away from her if you thought it would make her happier, isn't dat right?"

Lucifer started to tear up, "Yes..." Charlie started to tear up and hugged her dad.

"Therefore... there is something fishy happenin' here, there must be some form of miscommunication, or... a third party that likes messin' with shit," Angel looked up at the ceiling thinking.

"How do you know all this?" asked Vaggie suspiciously. Angel looked over at Vaggie and have her a sly smile, "When you're life was spent in da Mafia and your afterlife was spent around shitty desperate sex worka's that are dying to get a taste of your success by any means necessary, you pick up on a few things, baby."

Charlie perked up, "You think someone at her work did this?"

Angel shrugged, "It's very possible, not 100%, but it's possible. Lucifer, did (y/n) ever talk about having any issues with other girls at her workplace?"

Lucifer thought a moment, "Hmm... she mentioned there being some annoying girls that she some sometimes needed to put in their place, but nothing this crazy hostile. But then again, she didn't like talking about the Lounge much, and I didn't like asking because I started to get more sad whenever I was reminded that I was just a client to her."

"The Lounge, like the Luxurious Lady's Lounge in the Entertainment district?" asked Angel.

"Ya... you know it?" asked Lucifer.

Angel smiled, "Know it? Ha! Sure do. I know exactly where it is too. May have even seen 'er once or twice without knowin' it"

Charlie smiled at her dad, "Dad, if we know where she is, we should just go and talk to her!"

Lucifer shook his head, "Oh. No, no, nonononono, Charlie... I can't do that."

"Why not? Dad, come on, we can try clearing all this up!" Charlie pleaded.

Lucifer sighed, "I just... until I know for sure that she didn't actually ban me, I won't want to risk that. It's just not a good idea... Plus, I don't want to attract more attention to her if she is having issues there," Lucifer hung his head.

Charlie thought for a minute, then a lightblub went off, Charlie got down to Lucifer's eye level, "Dad, she may have "banned" you for seeing her... but not me! I could go talk to her!"

"Charlie, hold on, dis is a bad idea," Angel piped up, everyone looked at him confused, "Rememba' what happened when you tried to talk to Val for me?" Charlie thought for a second remembering the disaster that was, feeling the guilt return at the memory. Angel smiled, "Obviously I need to go with you!" The room erupted into laughter, Angel almost had them for a second, even Lucifer managed to crack a smile in his down mood.

"You guys are really willing to do this for me?" he asked looking to Charlie and Angel.

Charlie looked at Angel and back to her dad, and grabbed Lucifer's hands, "Yes, for you... and for us."

Lucifer smiled, "Ok... but can we actually have dinner before you go? I was anticipating an actual dinner instead of an intervention, but I guess I should have expected both." The room filled with laughter again and the group set up for dinner before Charlie and Angel would head out to find the Lounge, and more importantly, you.

______________________________________________________________

Later that evening, you were hanging out in the lobby of the Lounge, the same way that you had the nights before Lucifer had started to take up more of your schedule. You were still getting clients, but it was back to the old torturous monotony as before, but it somehow felt worse now that you had gotten a taste of love... or what you thought had been love. Every client made you wish you were back in Lucifer's arms, wanting to explore Lucifer's body... not this shithole and all it's shitty clients.

You felt yourself grow more bitter as you saw Cynthhhhia grow back in popularity with the customers, it seemed her few days on the phones really scared her into staying in her lane, especially because Larry had apparently made her take all of the calls during those three days. Something did not sit right with you about her more recent success, but you didn't want to turn into another her. Plus, the happier she was, the more she left you alone. Guess there had to be a bright side, somewhere.

You were sitting on your favorite couch in a long, blue, shear, flowy robe, when you saw a tall pair of individuals walk into the lobby. But not just any two tall people, two that you recognized, Angel and Charlie. You eyes went wide, and you quickly slinked off to the dressing room to hide.

'What the hell? What are they doing there?!' you thought to yourself. You hoped they hadn't seen you, even though your time with Lucifer was up, you still wanted to keep his secret about the two of you.

Charlie and Angel walked up to the front counter where Larry was standing he did a double-take seeing both of them.

"Whoooaaa, Princess Morningstar! And the famous Angel Dust! What an honor to have you two in to join us this evening. Are we interested in having a little fun tonight? I am surprised, I didn't think one of Val's best boys would be needin' to pay for fun. Unless... you are looking for a change in employment?" He flashed a sharp smile.

Charlie piped up, "Hi! Uhh, Charlie is just fine. And no, neither of those things. We are here looking for one of your girls, (y/n)."

"Is she here tonight?" Angel added.

"Uhh... ya. What business do you have with her?" Larry asked, wondering how they knew her.

"She's a friend ah mine," Angel chimed in, "She's mean MIA for a few weeks and we have been worried about 'er, we were wantin' to check in on her. Charlie has gotten to know her a little too and wanted to come with."

"Can we pleaseee see her?" Charlie pleaded.

Larry thought for a moment, "I don't know, she is still on the clock for several more hours. I can't just let her off early." Charlie and Angel look at each other and nod, Charlie pulls out an bunch of cash, "Will this cover her for the rest of the night." Larry smiled as the amount of money in her hands, it was more than enough.

"I do believe that will work Ms. Mornin- uhh, Charlie," Larry said taking the cash, "Let me go get her." Charlie is glad that she learned that in some situations like this, money talked more than words or power. She came more prepared than she had with her conversation with Valentino over getting more of Angel's time.

Larry searched around before finding you in the dressing room, "Hey Babydoll, you've been bought out for the rest of the night by some friends of yours, Angel Dust and Charlie Morningstar. I didn't know you knew them." He said giving you a look.

They bought you out for the rest of the night? Did they come here specifically to find you? How did they know you were here? Did... did Lucifer tell them? You felt some fear and hope bloom in your chest.

"Oh, haha ya, you know me, I'm just not one to talk about my personal life at work," you gave Larry a big smile. He laughed, "Alright, keep your secrets, sounds like they wanted to talk to you about something, worried about you. Go show 'em a good time tonight, ok?" You nodded, and quickly switching out to a more solid less see-through robe, before walking out to the lobby.

Angel and Charlie saw you coming, Charlie ran to you but you stopped her short of you, "Not here, come with me," and you led your friends up to you apartment. Once you were inside you room and the door was locked, you said "Ok now you can hug me if you want to."

This time, both Charlie and Angel want to embrace you at the same time, starting to tear up a little.

"Oh my god, (y/n)! It's so good to see you! We were so worried about you!" Charlie asked.

"Ya! When you and Lucifer stopped showing up at the hotel to visit, we started worrying, babe," Angel added.

"Wait... hold up, Lucifer stopped showing up to the hotel? How did you know I was here?" you asked.

"We sat my Dad down and he finally broke and told us the truth about everything," Charlie said.

"Ya, he spilled da beans on your guy's relationship, you don't have to keep his secret from us anymore," Angel added.

Tears started to well up in your eyes, "I don't?!" The two nodded. You started to sob and hugged them back. "I- I'm so sorry, I- I didn't want to lie to anyone but he wanted to keep it discreet, which I understand, he is the King! And it was so confusing, and then, one night he got really drunk one night, and it worried me, he wasn't acting like himself, and told me he loved me, but, but I didn't know if I could believe him. And he was getting all touchy and doe eyed, and I didn't know what was really what he wanted because it was all so sudden. So I ran! I ran because I was so scared, and- and- and-" Charlie and Angel both hugged you and tried to shushed you through your crying.

"It's ok, no one is mad at you. That sounds like a hard position to be in, it sounds like there was a lot of confusion on both sides," Charlie said.

"Confusion?" you sniffled, "Is that why he hasn't called to schedule with me again?"

Charlie and Angel looked at each other then back to you, "You didn't ban him then?"

You blinked, "WHAT?! Why on earth would anyone think I blocked him?! No! I freaked out and went on a trip for a few days to clear my head. I came back and I was told that he said he would call to reschedule, and then he just never did! I thought he hated me!"

"No!" Charlie cried, "No, Oh my god, he is a total wreck without you! He misses you like crazy! He thinks he was put on your "No Kiss List" or something"

"We can't even say your name without him shuttin' down and lookin' like we killed his dog or somethin'," Angel added, Charlie gave him a look, "What?! It's true!"

You sat down on the couch and stared out for a minute, thinking, "Why didn't he come to ask me himself?"

Charlie shrugged, "He doesn't remember what happened that night, he is convinced that he hurt you terribly and that it's why you banned him. He didn't want to hurt you so he respected that wish. We tried to get him to come tonight but he was scared in case you really had banned him."

You thought for a few more moments, who could have caused this? Who would have done this to you both. Your eyes widened. No, could this have been... did Cynthhhhia do this? Would she have been the one to make the calls that day since that was her punishment. You were pretty sure, but you didn't want to act without proof. You clenched your fists, starting to fill with rage.

"Is he at the hotel?" They nodded. You thought again, "Can you take me to him?" They nodded again with more excitement.

"I have just one question for you, before we go," Charlie started, looking into your eyes, "Tell me truthfully, do you actually care about my dad, not just for an income, but as a person?"

You took Charlie's hands in your own, "Charlie, I really do... more than anything... in fact... I'm pretty sure I'm in love with him." Charlie and Angel squealed and jumped up and down.

"That's all I needed to hear, let's do this!" Charlie declared.

You took a few minutes to get dressed, and soon you were off to see Lucifer again. Cynthhhhia eyed you a little as you left, wondering what you were doing with the most famous porn star in the Pride Ring and the Princess of Hell. She rolled her eyes and went back to chatting it up with her next client out it the lobby, it was probably nothing of substance, and she already had big enough fish to fry to keep her focused on herself. Although, she did briefly amuse herself with the idea of seducing the Princess' father, oh how wonderful a dream that would be, but she knew better than to put more thought into that. Why would the King of Hell ever need a prostitute? She laughed to herself.

You, on the other hand, were so full of fear and excitement at the idea of seeing actually Lucifer again, it felt like a dream and you were scared to wake up. But if Charlie and Angel's reaction was any indication of anything, maybe Brooklyn had been right after all.

______________________________________________________________

Thank you for putting up with torment! I made sure to get through this one quickier so that there was a return of hope. Next chapter they will finally talk in out, and then... a certain someone may see justice 😈

As usual, leave a comment if you want added to the taglist so that you can get notifications when future chapters drop! xoxo, dany (OMG there are so many of you!😍 Please let me know if the tag isn't working for you) Taglist :(red names are not tagging for some reason 😢)

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[brattyfics]

Swampbound X

Content Warnings: This chapter contains references to the loss of a child (non-explicit), themes of grief and trauma, and mentions of historical slavery. These elements are handled with care, avoiding explicit detail to maintain a gentler tone, but please keep these themes in mind.

Adla stirred awake to the gentle warmth of sunlight streaming through her window, the usual stillness of her home interrupted only by the clatter of pots and pans from the kitchen. A fleeting thought crossed her mind to reach for her pistol in the bedside drawer or the blade tucked beneath her pillow, but she dismissed it. Moving cautiously out of bed, she slipped toward the doorway, curiosity pulling her forward like a thread.

In her small, rustic kitchen, Terry stood, expertly flipping a scratch-made pancake in her beloved cast iron skillet. A pothos plant sat in the windowsill, its winding vines a surprising yet beautiful touch.

“Terry?” she called softly, a mix of surprise and bewilderment lacing her voice.

He turned, a slow, warm smile spreading across his face—and in his arms was a chubby little boy cradled close.

“Whose baby is that?” Panic crept into her tone.

With a playful grin, Terry bounced the little boy on his hip. “Ain’t no other baby in here but ours, Adla. Look at your mama bein’ all silly,” he teased, as the child reached up to grab at his nose. Terry showered him with kisses until his cheeks dimpled. A warmth spread through her, bittersweet and aching.

“This baby’s ours?” she asked, her heart racing as she needed confirmation, as if her mind was struggling to comprehend this new reality.

“Yeah, woman,” he chuckled, his laughter like music. “You done forgot the ten months you carried him, all the kickin’ and turnin’ he did? All the fussin’ you did at me?”

A shaky laugh escaped her, and wonder filled her gaze as she studied the child’s cherubic face. “Lawd, he’s too precious to be real. You sure he’s ours?”

Terry’s smile remained, but suddenly, the scene began to dissolve—his face fading like smoke slipping through her fingers. She reached out, desperate to grasp the image, but it vanished too quickly.

In their place, her reflection returned, clad in an old-fashioned gown, her hair teased high and framing her face like a halo. Adla leaned in closer—she and this woman were two sides of the same coin, a mirror image that sent chills crawling down her spine. It was undeniably eerie, but rather than fear, an instinctual trust held her steady.

“Did you see that?” the woman asked, her voice soft but bubbling with excitement, like they shared an unspoken secret.

“See what?”

“The future,” her reflection replied, a hopeful glimmer in her eyes.

Images of Terry holding that sweet baby flooded Adla’s mind.

“You talkin’ 'bout Terry? That little baby? That’s what you mean by the future?” she asked, awe washing over her.

“It just might be,” the woman said with a sly smile, leaving Adla yearning for more as she faded into nothingness.

Adla blinked, and the world shifted. She found herself standing on a vast plantation, fields stretching endlessly beneath a dark sky peppered with stars. Warm lights flickered from shacks far off in the distance.

“What is this?” she whispered, but her other self had vanished.

Terry stepped out of the shadows, looking different—his clothes threadbare, hair grown out, and a hint of a beard grazing his strong jaw. Yet his eyes still held that fierce, unyielding fire, the kind of strength that had always drawn her to him.

“Tonight’s the night,” he said, gripping her hands tightly. “Tonight, we’re makin’ a break for good.”

“What you mean?” she asked, glancing down at herself, now wearing a patched-up, faded dress that felt like it belonged to a different life.

“You alright?” he asked, pressing his palm to her forehead. “Is it the baby?”

“What baby?” she stammered, confusion creeping into her voice.

Looking down, she gasped, seeing a heavy belly rounded with life. “What in the world is goin’ on?”

Terry’s eyes narrowed, his voice steady with urgency. “We ain’t got no time to waste. You gotta come on with me.”

But then words tumbled from her lips that felt strange: “I can’t go with you! The midwife’s gotta deliver. What if somethin’ happens out there in the swamp?”

“I found someone,” he replied, his voice resolute. “She knows what to do. She’s one of us.” His eyes shone with fierce pride, standing strong against the fear. “Our child will be born free.”

Adla’s heart raced as memories surged within her—some her own, others echoes from another time—of strength in the face of a world set on breakin’ them.

“We can’t raise a child out there, Terry. They’ll hear us—”

“Listen to me.” His hands pressed firmly against hers, grounding her. “Burne ain’t gettin’ my child. He won’t own ‘em. Not now, not ever. I’ll give up my life first.”

In that moment, a fierce clarity surged within her—not fear, but love. It was a living force binding them, more potent than any threat.

Suddenly, the scene shifted again. Blinding sunlight poured down as she knelt in the dirt, surrounded by flecks of white—cotton scattered everywhere. She struggled to rise, but it felt as if she were encased in stone, her fingers aching and bloodied from labor.

Where am I?

A chill crept over her as she glanced up to find Burne’s steely gaze fixed on hers. Beside him stood a line of men, each one different yet sharing an unnerving resemblance. They wore a mismatched array of clothes, like they’d stepped right out of a time capsule, a patchwork of styles from days gone by. She squinted, taking in their faces, and her heart sank as she reached the end of the line. The last man was the worst—his expression tight, menacing. She felt a flicker of recognition, an instinctual pull. Then, the truth hit her like a cold wave—they were kin.

In her mind, a voice echoed, familiar yet distant: Look at their faces. Remember ’em. They thought they could own you, thought they could control you. But they can’t.

Beneath the weight of fear, a fire ignited—steady and unyielding defiance. She could feel the strength of those who had withstood the fury of Burne’s cursed bloodline, pushing her forward, urging her to end it all once and for good.

With a jolt, she woke, breath caught in the thick, stifling dark. The sheets beside her were cold. Terry was gone. Her heart raced, pounding hard in her chest, but she was frozen in place, too shaken to do anything but wrestle her breath back under control. She squeezed her eyes shut, seeking solace, but another vision dragged her under.

Burne loomed before her—his police polo stretched taut across broad shoulders, dark slacks pressed sharp, and his expression as unyielding as stone.

“What do you want? Why you followin’ me? Hauntin’ me?”

He didn’t respond, didn’t even seem to notice her presence. She remained unseen, watching as he knelt, dragging a small wooden box from beneath the bed. He set it on the dresser and lifted the lid, revealing a silver chain that shimmered like a freshly sharpened blade under the light—a lunar charm hanging at its center, polished to a brilliant shine.

He kept it there, she noted, etching the detail into her memory.

Burne slipped the chain around his neck and stepped out to the backyard, his boots crunching on the ground as he made his way toward a lone shack, its wood weathered and warped—the last of the slave quarters still standing. Deep in the door was a carving of a crescent moon and a star.

Just like the symbol on Terry’s tattoo.

Just like the markings on that old pendant.

She watched as Burne pushed open the door, stepping into the deep shadows within. Her vision sharpened, and in the dim light, she spotted a man slumped forward in a chair, bound tightly in chains that glimmered like silver fire. Though his face was hidden, something stirred deep inside her—a certainty tightening in her chest. It was Mike.

Terry had told her he followed Burne all the way home, but there’d been nothing—no scent, no trace. Yet here was Mike, trapped, bound, breathing just yards from Burne’s front door.

She jolted awake, her breath catching in the suffocating dark. Terry’s hands were there, warm and steady, holding her as she fought for air. The remnants of the vision clung to her, sharp and unyielding, but his presence anchored her, a comforting weight pulling her back to reality.

“I got you,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing, wrapping around her like a lifeline. She reached up, her fingers brushing against his cheek, tracing the familiar strength and softness of him, as if to confirm he was real and there.

Their eyes locked, searching and tender, yet fierce with a trust she was only just starting to understand. “Terry… I know where Mike is,” she whispered, her words trembling between them. “And the lunar chain. I saw it, saw him.”

Terry helped her up from the bed, guiding her gently as she dressed, then led her into the kitchen.

Moonlight filtered through the small kitchen window, casting long shadows on the worn wooden floor. Adla leaned heavily against the table, her heart racing as she laid out the details of her vision for Terry. He stood close, a raw, fierce energy radiating from him, like a tightly coiled spring ready to explode. She kept her hand on his shoulder, grounding them both as her resolve began to take shape.

“It was a plantation,” she murmured, her words heavy yet steady. “I know it sounds crazy, but… I think we knew each other from another life. There was a man who looked just like you.” Her voice wavered for a moment, but she pressed on. “And a woman just like me.”

Terry’s brow knitted together, intensity flooding his features. “Adla…” he murmured, the gravity of it wrapping around them, a haunting reminder of a past that refused to stay buried.

“There’s something else…” She hesitated, a deep ache gnawing at her insides, but she took a breath to steady herself. “I saw a child in my dreams. Our child.”

The words rushed out, and a powerful longing surged within her, overwhelming yet clear, as if it had been waiting for her to speak. She could almost feel that child’s soft curls, the warmth of his cheek—a fierce emptiness blooming in her heart. “I felt him, Terry. He was so real. And somehow, it’s like they took him from us—Burne, those men. They’re behind it.”

As her voice trembled, tears pricked at her eyes. But Adla swallowed hard, rallying her strength, her grief igniting a steady fire within. She wasn’t alone anymore; Terry was right there beside her, and the magic swirling inside her was growing stronger. She wasn't helpless.

Terry’s expression shifted as a knock rattled the door—it was Jesse. They’d called him right after she’d woken up. Adla took a deep breath as Terry pulled it open, steeling herself to remain composed. Jesse stepped inside, his gaze sharp and assessing, hardening as he took in her distress. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice steady but laced with urgency.

Adla brushed a hand over her cheek, wiping away the wetness before lifting her chin with quiet resolve. “I saw things I didn’t know before.”

“Burne was there, but not just in the present.” She explained. “A whole bunch of men who looked like him too. It was like…”

Jesse moved closer, his presence grounding her. Terry’s protective instincts flared, but Jesse met him with equal resolve. “Like what?” he urged gently.

“I’m not sure,” she admitted, still piecing it all together. “There’s a shack, somewhere on Burne’s land,” she said, her voice growing stronger, more resolute. “It’s marked with the same crescent and star as the pendant on that lunar chain—just like the mark on your arm, Terry.”

“I’ve been there,” Terry replied, his jaw tight and fists clenched. “I was lookin’ for Mike but came up empty.” He shot a glance at Adla, and a silent understanding passed between them. Jesse noticed, his eyes narrowing.

“What aren’t you saying?” Jesse asked, his voice firm.

Adla shook her head, her tone steady and low. “I can’t talk about it.” The pain felt too fresh. Her hand instinctively fell to her belly, the vision still echoing in her mind. Terry quietly spoke of the child—of the baby she once carried in a life neither of them fully remembered.

A fierce defiance flared up inside her as Terry spoke, each word a haunting reminder of the horrors she had witnessed in her visions and the struggles her past self had faced. She craved justice. Little did she know, her name meant justice in Swahili, and she was stepping boldly into her destiny, just as it was meant to be.

“They took somethin’ from me,” she said, tapping her heart with fierce conviction. “And they ain’t gonna take nothin’ else.”

Jesse and Terry exchanged a glance, shaken by her words, but Adla stood firm. Her voice resonated with the weight of countless lives—a fire that refused to be snuffed out. “This is our last chance. We’re breakin’ this cursed cycle for good—I won’t lose nothin’ else," she declared, her tone a mix of steel and flame.

“Adla,” Terry said, stepping closer, his voice a steady promise. “I ain’t gonna let him take nothin’ from you, from us. Not Mike. Not a damn thing.” His words wrapped around her like a lifeline as he placed his hand on her stomach, protective of a child who hadn’t even begun to take shape yet. Jesse watched the exchange in silence, his gaze fixed on Terry’s hands, moving in harmony like two magnets drawn together.

Inevitable.

Fated.

Jesse stepped forward. “Let’s figure this out,” he said, voice calm but edged with fierce resolve, a shared purpose binding them together. He didn’t know about any child or the lives they’d left behind, but he’d do whatever it took to keep the Adla in front of him safe, breathing. Even if she wasn’t his, he couldn’t bear to lose her.

Adla looked between the two men at her side as they began mapping out their plan, feeling the strength of their bond deepen. Together, they would stand against Burne, ready to reclaim what had always been theirs.

@nayaesworld

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes

@sageispunk

@megamindsecretlair

@blowmymbackout

@kindofaintrovert

@avoidthings

@zillasvilla

@insidefeelingofanadult

@theereina

@slutsareteacherstoo

@babybratzmaraj

@senajaiaspeak

@princessmakipala

@writingsbytee

@planetblaque

@liquorlaughslove

@judymfmoody

@playgurlxoxo

@theescorpiolovechile

@keyaho

@gg-trini

@vivaalenaa

@li-da-savage

@ash-ketchumzzz

@mysteryuz

@chefjessypooh

@rosaaverse

@kismet83

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

warnings: allusions to past trauma (no specific details), mentions of child abuse (no specific details)

He'd shown up without pretense and simply sunk down beside you at the fire circle. It wasn't lost on him that you seemed to be avoiding his eyes. He let it go on for a while, but finally his anxiety got the better of him.

"Ya gonna tell me why ya went runnin' off last night?" he drawled, finally breaking the silence without so much as a 'hey'.

You gulped and twirled the stick in your hands deftly between your fingers. The corners of your mouth tensed downward briefly. You shook your head. "No. Not really..."

"Y/N—c'mon," he drawled, his voice gentler this time.

You sighed heavily and tossed the stick into the low flames. "You're not the only one with a secret, Daryl." You met his eyes this time and his stomach twisted with nerves. "You think I haven't caught a glimpse of your scars here and there?"

Daryl's head dropped. He felt an initial wave of discomfort knowing you'd seen what he tried so hard to hide, but it quickly diminished.

"Some secrets are better left not spoken about. It makes them too—" you hesitated, searching for the right word, "too real."

Daryl nodded. "Maybe. I ain't afraid of talkin' 'bout mine anymore, not to you anyway. Maybe talkin' 'bout it to the right person will shrink it down to nothin'." He stood up. "My dad was a drunk son of a bitch. He used to beat the shit outta me for no reason. There. Ya know my secret. I'll try to be worthy of yours, if I ever can be."

You watched him go, a little stunned and taken aback, your heart aching.

Prompt: "You're not the only one with a secret."

[intertexts]

i lied actually that krouse/luke interaction i posted earlier isn't wibby and virion it's actually wibby and ashe <3 what is more important than two kids trauma bonding over feeling like freaks because of their powers!!!!!! Dakota has his martyr complex, virion has his identity issues, but when it comes down to it both of them see their powers as something good, something that can be used like a tool, etc. they don't get it. ashe, actively discouraged by his father to use any of his powers AT ALL, literally locked in his house while his dad (hypocritical piece of shit) goes out and. uses powers. william, who got his powers from feeling like a freak and continued to feel like EVEN MORE of a freak after he got his powers. well. I think they just understand each other on such a core base level. emo kids unionizing you are so important to me. I think they like to sit on the roof at night and just talk about shit and look at the sky. william smokes and ashe doesn't give him shit for it even lightheartedly like virion or dakota would.

also not exactly related but also kind of related. very important to me that early on in their friendship ashe sneaks out of his house when mark isn't there. teenage rebellion is the catalyst for everything (also the irony of mark doing everything in his power and more to stop things from happening to ashe only for it to turn out that his actions are what directly led to ashe rebelling and meeting the wards and joining them and everything that comes after) . he finds out when ashe sneaks back into his room one night not realizing mark was home and his clothes smell like smoke . cue the "where the FUCK were you, what the FUCK were you doing" argument.

ohhhhh emo kids union....... emo kids union u are everything to me!!!!!!!!!!! god!!!!!! esp. in this context.... u are so right. they understand each other on a core level...... the loneliness the alienation the shared experiences. william loves dakota & virion so much & they love him & they'll always b trying 2 be their for each other in their own fucked up ways but like-- they'll never understand william thinking "i wish i could call my parents and cry and tell them everything but i could never do that." or "yeah i hate my brother and he scares me sometimes and i wish i didn't want to trust him like i do"!! what does that mean to the orphan n the guy who grew up with loving (dead) parents? ashe gets it though! he knows what it's like to be so angry and frustrated and lonely.... they click so immediately. ashe goes yeah i'm fucking terrified that one day i'll lose control and hurt everyone around me. i mean, i wish i was like Good, hahaha, but that's just not for me so i'm just trying make as much good as i can come out of something that straight up sucks, right? & wibby goes ohh. Ohhhhh. shit. like. it's exactly what ur saying man. locking eyes awkward cautious smile with the one other kid wearing a black tshirt n skinny jeans at camp & just Knowing Exactly who you're gonna be friends with. the relief of it.!!!!!

side note 2 me they r both breaker/shakers hehehe (wibby's ghost shaping kiiind of blurs the line? & after his second trigger when he gets Way better at mimicking humans & shit he's frequently miscategorized as a master. he kind of is? well. you know. blurred lines. but i don't think he's working with anything Living.) which i like a lot. same trauma solidarity!! you KNOW they r sitting on that roof w smokes & booze (neither of them even like the booze but it's part of The Thing) (dakota substance abuse baggage virion would rather die than be in an altered or unfiltered state in front of people) feeling kind of scared and gleeful that they actually get to have this Cool Person experience they always figured they'd miss out on forever... u know they're talkin bout all the normal shit they Did always want to do and did miss out on. actually yeah now that i'm thinking about it them genuinely barely even filtered through levels of irony larping all the shit they missed out on due to being Fucked Up is so important 2 me.... i need them to light fireworks in the street and accidentally stay too close & run away from them giggling & go to the grocery store at 2am & go to concerts... they get to be kids for a bit in a way that only the two of them understand. yk?

FUCKING ILL OVER THAT. BTW. YEAH. god if i think abt ashe & mark too long i'll die but that's so good... yeah.... perfect... i bet ashe kind of likes that his clothes smell like smoke btw. like real proof he Does have friends that he hangs out with now. god i bet they give each other shitty stick n pokes and are really normal about it.

[digitalbackroomz]

🌺💖🌺Dear diaryblr....🌺💖🌺 [CW: K*NK IN SFW TAG DISCUSSION]

I had 2 block sumbody who was talkin about these thingz that made me uncomfy:

"accept k*nk in agere or ur bigoted"

"k*nk blogz aren't abusing u by following u, k*nk ppl aren't smeggsual 24/7"

"ur ridiculous 4 being uncomfy around k*nk"

....U kno what?

No.

⚠️U don't need consent to block ⚠️ANYONE⚠️ who breaches YOUR consent for ANY reason.⚠️

U can block some nsft stuff & not others! u can block fandom blogz u don't care bout! U can block ME 4 making too many dumb diaries!! [XD]

NOBODY OWES U ATTENTION WHETHER UR ACC HAS ADULT STUFF OR NOT. NOBODY OWES U CONSENT. DO U REALIZE HOW CREEPY DAT MINDSET IZ??? ITZ GIVING 1NCEL. 🤮🤮🤮

[[Just be nice & respect boundaries plz. >_< Remember a lotta us have trauma with smeggsual stuff we don't want anywhere near our sfw spaces. Stay in ur lane.... We're stayin in ours, & there's plenty room on da road for u waaaay over there. </3]]

Thank u. <3

Wif much luv,

Ur digital big sis! ~Traci. 🌺

[thewandererh]

💛Hello everyone! Wanderer here :]

Please DO NOT send me donation asks, they make me anxious. I do not know the difference between bots and real people. I have no money to give. Contact active organizations instead of me. Thank you.

DNI : NSFW blogs, homophobes, transphobes, racists (etc), romantic + sexual cjshippers, prolifers, proshippers, ai art/chat supporters, trump supporters, anyone who disrespects boundaries as a “joke,” people not open to mental growth & learning.

_…-^*^-…_ _…-^*^-…_ _…-^*^-…_

Meet me! I am a: mental health advocate, gluten free eater, adhd+autism individual, emoji enjoyer, alliteration admirer, local logophile, radiation rambler, and ceaseless cloudspotter

i’m also a Visual-Introverted iNtuitive Feeling Judging-Turbulent Advocate!

i value boundaries highly! i prefer my relationships contain mutual respect, trust, and support on both sides. if something i’m uncomfortable with comes up, i’ll tell you :]!

i like saying good things about others’ creations, but that doesn’t mean it’s my job. i do it when i have enough capacity/energy for it in a given day. i believe all artists and art are equal. no one is above another no matter what! we are all influenced by, like, and explore different things as people, and that effects all of our wonderful art <3.

i exist to express myself. and you do too ^^! creating what brings joy leads to fulfillment and a well-rounded sense of self. don’t follow me for one specific thing, as i am not anchored to one fandom, idea, or another. i am just here to have fun :].

🍱 current interests

i will be reblogging spoilers! unfollow and/or block main tags if you want to avoid them

🌺Nine Sols

🫴GRIS

🦊Maybe a Fox

🐗Lord of the Flies

🐋South Scrimshaw

☔️Rainworld

🌲Pinepoint

🎣Webfishing

🎧 favorite song artists

i really love intricate, atmospheric, and acoustic aspects in my music :]! furthermore, lyrics filled with a feeling, metaphors, or even a story i can think about powers my inspiration ^^!

cojum dip — berlinist — johanna warren — noah kahan — imogen heap — cosmo sheldrake — AURORA — glass animals — cavetown — the crane wives — phoebe bridgers — far caspian — kiltro — frida johansson — tamkish — lemon demon — owl city — vashti bunyan — yann van der cruyssen — meydän — lifeformed

🧐 other things i really like

analyzing literary devices, leitmotifs, and psychology

clouds + tornadoes

radiation physics?? (thank you kyle hill)

character/creature design (psychology<3, metaphors, shape language, headcanons, palettes)

interior design! once i learn geometry and perspective i’ll be a menace

outfit experimentation in design/when dressing up, flannel jackets, shirts with decals

collecting memoirs (stickers, patches, notebooks, other trinkets)

anything from trader joe’s

words that feel fun to say (alliterations = vocal stims)

small notebooks

stuffed animals :D

background noise/music (lofi!)

origami!

🗺️ tags for navigating my blog!

use the blog search bar to search for specific content

traditional art : #pen&pencilparade

digital art : #digitaldepictions

animation : #awesomeanimating

longform stuff : #wordwondering

really passionate rambles : #hyperfixationhullabalooing

original stories/essays : #puttingpen2paper

talkin ‘bout clouds : #carwindowcloudspotting

silly jokes : #sillyposting

crafts : #craftcorner

plushies go places : #plushadventures

play these games : #game recommendations

exploring my mental : #figuringmyselfout

get to know me! : #personalposts

answers/asks : #letters2&fro

favorite posts : #fave

writing i love : #bookshelf

📜 oc story tags!

💛ORIGINAL:

#the-inexpendables - SILT-inspired alien divers get dug up by humans

#cloudkids - cloud-inspired silly guys live life in the suburbs

#protean-punishment - abstract animal shapeshifter immortals get trauma

☔️RAINWORLD:

#elementaliterator - twine suffering saga. so much to say. my oldest story

#kylehillgang - robots of wacky science make it in the ecosystem somehow

🔀CJ x RW CROSSOVERS:

#iambicpentameter - hms but iterator (they have so many great arcs)

#technicolorquintet - thdph but iterator (they are very gay)

🩶CHONNY JASH:

#cccclinic - whole’s headspacial recovery during+after a very big coma

#ccccycles - jashlings painfully change forms when fights resort to violence

hope you all have a wonderful day :]💛

[mydarlingdearestdead]

Atlas came through the door like a solider returning from war- All smiles and hidden trauma. His eyes fell on me and he wilted, just a little bit, "Rosie?" He called.

"Kitchen." They replied and their voice was followed by the splashing sound of a bowl being relinquished thoughtlessly into soapy rapids.

Atlas bypassed me, seeking them. This, I was all too used to.

"You baking?" He asked upon seeing them. He reached for a brownie, however, they were just minutes out of the oven and still warm to the touch. "Oh, ow!"

Rosalyn had their back to him. They were up to their elbows in Fairy Liquid and dirty dishes. "They're still hot." They told him idly, continuing, "You know, I was at the Ivory today."

Atlas paled, cradling his arm against his chest. "Yeah?"

I slinked against the doorframe, shamefully curious. I was shielded from Atlas' understanding eye but Rosalyn's scornful gaze burned me. They turned, having placed a red ceramic bowl in the last remaining space on the drying rack. Atlas held out a tea towel to them, smiling ashamedly.

"Heard someone talkin' bout you." Rosalyn grabbed the offering from his hand, " 'Drank his weight in whisky' She said. Best patron we've had in years. "

"Where's Tildy?" Atlas asked suddenly.

"You fucking think I'm enough of an idiot to do this with her in the house? Really?"

"Where is she, Rosalyn?"

They held his gaze for a long moment before they replied, "Linney's. Impromptu sleepover. Face masks and chick-flicks." Atlas nodded. He had nothing more to say, not a leg to stand on.

Rosalyn's laughter startled me.

"My husband," They said calmly, "Is an alcoholic.... Fuck."

"Rosie-"

"Oh, shut up! Your daughter is scared of you. She resents me because I keep trying to make excuses for you and- and Jesus Christ, Atlas, I am- I'm starting to see her side of the argument." Tears welled in their eyes and I was struck with the sudden and debilitating feeling that I was witnessing something too painful for words. Yet, I knew Rosalyn would find the words. That was their trade, you see. They made their living from words conjured and those words bowed to them no matter the situation.

"I love you, Atlas, I have never claimed otherwise but I can not love the whisky on your breath or the lipstick on your colour."

Atlas backed away from them- A mere, hesitant step. He knew, as we all did, of Rosalyn's nature. They had used a rather large knife in the process of cutting the brownies.

His words were cruel and even now- Years after the fact, I know- I have barely the heart to repeat them. Truthfully, I have never known Atlas to wish harm or suffering on another except for this day. In his rage and turmoil, his words sought his love as wounds might.

"Yeah, and I don't love Rosalyn Carraway either. But I've gone this far, haven't I?"

Masterlist

[amevello-blue]

It sucks that raph really never has trauma like I want him to at least have a nightmare and he’s all closed off about it.

.... u talkin bout 03 Raph??? boy do I have news for you! :D

[evileyekabuki]

KING KOTA CORE

🌸🎮🌸🎮🌸

“Said I can do this all night, baby

Said I was actin' out of line, maybe

Can't put my trauma to the side

When you told me I was lyin'

Had me feelin' like I died, baby

I seen a grown man cry, baby

Just see you do it, ain't special, no

Wonder when I ain't there

What the fuck you've been sayin'?

Talkin' 'bout how I sexed you up” ~ Been Like This by Doja Cat

[faunabells]

why do we say we have "a couple of collectives" ? why not assert ourselves as one entire collective like how most other plurals do? wouldn't that be an easier form of expression?

- an intrapersonal meditation of system functions, paradigms, language, plural presentation, and selves-actualization of our multicollective being.

𓍊𓋼𓍊 pt. 1: "whatchu talkin' 'bout, willis?" 𓍊𓋼𓍊

♡ what started this year-long conversation for us was viewing @/bodyetal 's, who possess two systems, expression of plurality. and it just...made a lot of sense when we dressed ourselves in the same fashion.

and in all honesty, no one (except us) have been opposing this. and that's because it's understood, in the pluralgang community, at least-, that:

♡ "because of how subjective person/pluralhood experiences are, we can express ourselves as 'a couple of collectives in a trenchcoat' without fret. unconventional sure, but whatever floats our boat." "cool. now, who's gonna front during family dinner?"

but here's the thing: there are those of us who never shut up. so, naturally, questions pertaining to our presentation are gonna keep being posed, until we come to some conclusion that essentially answers: what even is our existence?

𓍊𓋼𓍊 pt. 2: defining ourselves 𓍊𓋼𓍊

multicollective/system: the state of possessing two or more collectives/systems in one body. * we're currently unsure where we've gotten this term from. it's possible we came up with the term ourselves?

♡ for us, having multiple different origins + amensia, communication and general plural function awareness can get pretty tricky. it also has a deep, interwoven impact of how each of us function overall.

here's some examples of such [sys-names redacted for privacy, emoji combos in its place]:

disclaimer: these are all based on only what we, the faunabells, currently know and understand. we may have some things wrong, but we've tried our best to be as accurate as possible. this is also, the most skim-readable part. tl.dr: there's complex groups of us who function differently from each other. origins/quick lil' intros: 🌸🌼🍡🌼🌸 ~ endo/auti/xenogenic. very cringe, very cool. 💕🕸️🕷️🕸️💕 ~ mostly trauma/stressgenic, though does have some paragenic origins. 🎀🏚️🦋🏚️🎀 ~ we actually don't know much about this one yet. quite possibly another traumagenic system. endo too? 🍄🍊🍓🍊🍄 ~ us, the faunabells! we're adaptive + para/autigenic. (using emojis for ourselves bc it's fun, hehe) splitting/multiplying: 🌸🌼🍡🌼🌸~ pretty seamless multiplying, overall has stable senses of self when someone multiples from another. 💕🕸️🕷️🕸️💕 ~ takes quite a bit of stress to split, but when they do, the person who'd split is unrecognizable from their former self. possibly due to the self being unstable in the first place. 🍄🍊🍓🍊🍄 ~ completely opposite from 💕, we split very easily, though can still be ourselves after splitting. communication: 🌸🌼🍡🌼🌸 ~ are mostly mono-conscious, yet has distinctive voices. things can get pretty confused. like, who's talking about what? 💕🕸️🕷️🕸️💕 ~ have an abstract thinking style, making long distance calls quite the breeze! though, there's subsystems who can't be reached. 🍄🍊🍓🍊🍄 ~ ...is getting better! possibly because of how sociable/linguistic our thinking style is, we need to be face to face innerworld in order to speak to each other. fronting: 🌸🌼🍡🌼🌸 ~ fronts the least, but often does when the body feels comfortable. 💕🕸️🕷️🕸️💕 ~ fronts most often because they're equipped for our survival. cannot function with many ppl in co-con. 🎀🏚️🦋🏚️🎀 ~ also fronts the most, just noticably separate from 💕. we aren't exactly sure what the deal is, but we do know that they have easiest fronting access by far. 🍄🍊🍓🍊🍄 ~ fronts often, with co-con typically. we're more equipped to handle interacting with society in general (aka masking-). and for funsies, let's talk innerworld: 🌸🌼🍡🌼🌸 ~ candyland + care-a-lot castle. very active. 💕🕸️🕷️🕸️💕 ~ is a city that's a bit based on the one they'd made up in childhood. 🎀🏚️🦋🏚️🎀 ~ a neighborhood/county. a bit ghost-town like, needs to front in order to be active. 🍄🍊🍓🍊🍄~ springtime hamlet + autumn woods + a different take on camp half-blood. also is overgrown with strawberry fields. *there's also a lot of in-between/sub-innerworlds in our entire mind, but we're just doing a general overview.

all of this - and more - makes it so that words like side/subsystems, simply don't express our functions adequately. unfortunately, terms like sisa/hemi/sparsystem doesn't feel like the right cut either.

all of those terms seem to assert themselves as functionally the same or least similarly. we don't see ourselves represented in those definitions.

but do we function differently enough to be considered separate collectives? dwellings on being "enough" is the bane of every sociable community. i won't this mental traintrack become a pensive trap for us.

𓍊𓋼𓍊 pt. 3: do we have this right? 𓍊𓋼𓍊

♡ this paradigm simplifies our experiences. we were extremely confused before, but now, we're still a bit confused...only with more organization!

though the biggest downside is that the idea of expressing ourselves as multicollective makes a lot of us feel fake. and, in all honesty, we're intimidated by already established & widely accepted ways of plural expressions.

but that's okay. we didn't even need to write an essay about this. it's not like we need to justify our language, or our existence for that matter! but, i think that this was worth our time.

♡ we can just simply say, "plurality is such a personal and tender qualia. we should all use the language that we feel understood by most, even when it's a bit unconventional. when that's understood by our own selves, we can find our own fulfilling potential." "so we're multicollective. cool. now, i seriously need to know who's gonna be fronting during family dinner??"

[ id: green userbox, its picture being a collection of mushrooms that are known as heath waxcaps. it says: theses users are multicollective. ]

𓍊𓋼𓍊finis.𓍊𓋼𓍊

[bittyfromquotev]

lmao a toxic “friend” of mine degraded me and gave me a decade of trauma. Lol imagine when people find out I’m autistic and she was treating an autistic child like utter garbage. One older than her in fact.

It would also be hilarious if my middle school “friends” found out about this. Hypocrites. We all adored the special needs kids and treated them with such kindness! Little did any of us know I’m autistic and therefore they outcasted an autistic person and treated them (me) like a child murderer.

@leothebird you know what I’m talkin bout lol

[crestfallen-infatuation]

We won't stop until we catch the opps

Spin the block two times and then we rock

We won't stop until we catch the opps

We gon' spin the block 'til the world stops

'Til the world stops

It's a smash

Riding 'round town with my shirt off

Me, I'm off that dope, the bitch I'm with, she off that Smirnoff

Still servin' Fentanyl, ten dogs eager to rip your face off

Youngins off that 8 ball, hope it don't throw they aim off

Yeah, they hatin' on me, but they broke though

Talkin' 'bout poppin' off, got me waiting for a no show

Posted on the block like a light pole, Young Promo

Heard you got that FOMO, give him what his ho won't

Yeah, big tits on them big sticks, mane, he want the smoke

Wetto never lackin', keep my pistol loaded, trained to go

Slug in the chamber, fuck goin' high, I'm goin' low

Clutchin' on that calico, pockets thick, all natural

(Slick's just talking shit, boy) Fuck around and find out

Ain't no need for plottin', if it's smoke, you gon' die now

Walk over to Ruth Chris, just shoot shit, then dine out

Show you what my kind 'bout, having your mama cryin' out

Second line

Second line

Second line

Second line

Okay, I guess it's go time

Shoot shit, big hollow tips, $lick make his whip ghost ride

15 off codeine, just thuggin' on the northside

18, said fuck lean, straight heroin if we get high

White moms, they terrified

Ask around the 985 slime, mane I'm certified

Operation Fishnet, ain't catch Wet but free the guys

Built too much like my daddy, hoe I'm scrappy, and you pacified

Bipolar like my momma, I got trauma, I keep classified

Heard it through the grapevine, you think I'm a scary guy

Your bitch pillow-talkin', gettin' piped down by all the guys

All that pole grippin' on IG, somebody give that man some likes

Blowfish I don't buy the hype, boxed up by Sunday night

Second line

Second line

Second line

Second line

Till the world stops

[lime-sketches114]

Hey guys I wanted to wind down from some of the crazy from the first few fanfics of Flash and Sindri and do something a tiny bit more wholesome from the canon that is God of War Ragnarok.

Hopefully everyone likes it and maybe some art might come your way, idk depends on how I feel from the stress of the end of the year celebrations lol.

Thanks also to @grand-admiral-luna for suggesting some ideas to me! Hope your Sindri shaped heart is fulfilled!

Cheers to the happy couple!

A Warm Touch

{Oc × Sindri}

{Flash × Sindri}

Warning: OCD/Germaphobia, Trauma and Pain, "censored cursing"

Rating: Fluffy with a side of AAAAWWWWWWW {mostly mild}{embracing character roles}

★★★★★★★★★

{Flash's pov}

Sometimes...it feels cold at night...

Colder than the winters in Midgard

Sometimes maybe even colder that Niflheim

Ever since my incident with Heimdall, I've been more distant with Sindri at times. I try to not touch him much with my new arm or come near me when I feel like it's too much for him to help handle. It's like a phantom pain I can't rid of easily. To deal with the blunt of the Curse I mostly went out and punched a tree or something. That usually ends up with the tree with either a hole in it or on the ground.

Stupid Heimdall....

Stupid....me....

I sat up in my bed. My hair now longer than it was. Long black hair resting just above my shoulders. Why must it do this every time I'm feeling a strong emotion. It's stupid. My hair used to be super short compared to this. I look really girly.

I look to my arm, raising it slowly. Black as night. It feels natural but not at the same time. Like I'm not myself anymore. This thought ate at me for a moment before I felt hungry. I got up and walked out of my room. I walked past Sindri's room where his door was left cracked. I peeked inside to find him peacefully sleeping. I walked to him quietly, leaning down to kiss his forehead.

I smiled a bit from his blank peaceful expression to a small upturned smile as I stood back up. I sighed softly as I snuck back through his door to downstairs. I walked to the kitchen and grabbed a piece of bread. I munched on it near the fire. That was until I heard a gruff clearing of the throat from behind me.

I jumped and looked behind me. It was Brok.

"Niddhogg's Brood you scared me Brok!" I growled softly.

He gave a stern nonchalant huff before pulling up a seat, "We need to talk 'bout a problem b'tweens you and my brother"

"what is there to talk about?" I sat down near him.

"Ever since'ya got that black curse of'yas, day after day you's been avoiding him like the d*mn plague!" He made a gleaming stare towards me like a pup getting into something.

"I....just don't want to hurt him..." I replied to him.

"Well you's been hurting him more by doing that than talkin' it out! I thought after you's woke up you'd change that huh?!"

"I am! I just..." I stopped, pausing to think.

"That's what I f*cking thought...not a d*mn clue!" Brok stood up and pointed a finger at me, "The best thing you can do is be honest with him! The honest thing to do with him is not be a d*mn dragon and be a f*cking dwarf!"

His words fluttered in my mind. Was this curse...really a a blessing in disguise?

"You's better act quickly... he's been using his spare time to think of something...been torn to pieces trying to "make it right"...whatever the f*ck that means" he grumbled before walking off into a pocket between the realms. Probably to meet with Lunda...

I sighed and looked back upstairs. That d*mn blue dwarf was right....I was making a rift just like he did with him...like he needed to face another. I got up and went upstairs back to Sindri. I looked into the crack of the doors to find him still asleep. I stepped inside and walked to the side with more room on his bed.

I crawled inside the covers he had and spooned him from behind. His tunic bunched up at my embrace. I pressed my face to his back gently. My eyes gently misted with tears as I embraced him closer. I let out soft cries as I gripped onto his tunic. After a small bit I felt him shift. He soon gripped my right hand, my cursed hand.

"Flash? My love? What's wrong?" He said groggily.

"...I'm Sorry..."

"For what?" He turned around in my grasp.

"for being...a stupid dragon...for leaving you alone"

He sighed at me but I was prepared for him to scold me but he never did like he did before. He petted my head once he sat up and chuckled. I looked up at him sideways and huffed.

"What?" I pouted.

"I was...sad yes but it gave me time to...think and to get even"

"Even?" I rose up.

"we'll I was not prepared to give you anything yet but..." He reached over to a night stand nearby. He held out an intricate and ornate wooden box. Once he opened it my eyes it up like stars.

"I know it's not... extravagant but I know you'd pick practicality over looks"

It was a black leather choker like mine, clasped to it was golden trim on the top connected with golden clasps. In the middle was a decorated jewel clasp shaped like crimson surrounding my crystal.

"it's just missing a few more things, I'm sure you can figure it out" He chuckled.

I slowly took off my original choker and fiddled with the plain golden clasp to free my ruby. I gently lifted the new necklace and attached the ruby to it's new home. Sindri took the necklace from me and I turned away. I pulled my hair out of the way so he could put it on me.

Once it was on I turned to him, "How do I look?"

"....breath-taking" he joked a sigh beforehand to put literal meaning to his answer. He put his hand on my cheek, still ridged from his fear of the beasties but gentle nonetheless.

I chuckled at his words. I soon plopped onto his pillow and smiled. My hair spreading to almost every inch of it.

"Your hair is so beautiful, like shimmering scales" he complimented.

"well... I'd like to know yours more since you know mine so well" I jested. He then laid his head down on my chest. I took off his hair piece and his short hair went into a shirt straight frizz.

I started to pet him with my good arm but I petted him with my new one. He soon melted into my touch. Nothing bad happened. I smiled and hummed a lullaby my mother used to hum to my sisters and I.

As I hummed, my crystal began to glow softly, soft red notes and sparkles danced around the room like pixies. Soon his glowed softly with a teal and gold hue, there it stayed. It wasn't much time before I heard his soft snores and his grip was around my waist. I was happy. I looked to the ceiling and closed my eyes. Before sleep took hold I whispered one phrase.

"Buíochas a....Mo ghrá"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once everyone has awoken, Sindri and I gave the news of our engagement once Atreus pointed out my new necklace. Everyone there was both happy yet surprised that Sindri would be the one I picked. Atreus knew more of our relationship besides Brok. Everyone thought Brok was more muly type but nope! He has someone else in mind...

"I'm so happy for you!" Atreus smiled and hugged us both. Sindri quickly dusted himself off from the constant touching and shaking hands.

"Thanks for setting my brother straight...like ya needed it" Brok chuckled as he hugged me.

"Anything for my family" I chuckled as I went to Mimir.

Mimir was almost bawling in my hands when I held him.

"Ooooh! What would your folks think?! They have to be here for this momentous occasion!" Mimir sniffled.

"Well...I figured some help would be in order for all of us...so I had Crimson on a mission through Yggdrasil thanks to Ratatoskr. My sisters and brother should be here anytime soon" I chuckled.

"Smart move, Lass!" Mimir marveled.

Sindri gulped a hard one, "S-Sisters...h-how many?"

"I'm a twin, so that's one, plus two older sisters and a younger sister...so 4 in total plus an adopted brother" I smirked.

Sindri nearly fainted but Brok slapped his back before he could.

"Don't worry about them Sindri. Besides they might kill me or something before they ever think of you" I sighed.

"W-Why?!"

"....For many reasons, short answer, for running away and going missing"

"Sweet Bestla help us all...."

[burning-fcols]

"You're not gettin' outta this angel, we're talkin' 'bout this whether you like it or not! Helpin' me with my heat was one thing, but if we're gonna keep doin' this shit, you gotta tell me what I can 'n can't do, no fucking bullshit. I find out you lied t' me, saying you liked somethin' when you don't just t' make me happy, we're fuckin' done with this, you got it?" //theeeyyy seem like the pair we need to get trauma out of the way pretty Quick lmao - ✧ ˖ ˙ 「 @ʜᴇʟʟꜱ-ꜰᴠʀʏ 」 ˙ ˖ ✧

「 ☆ 」 Frankly, Angel should have known something like this was coming. Since the start Husk has been a massive pain in his ass... and while now, Angel can understand that it comes from a place of surprising care, that doesn't make it any less of an issue. If anything, it's somehow WORSE because he has to watch his tongue around the other man. Terrified of saying something genuinely harmful that he can't take back. Lord knows he's already lashed out enough in confusion-stemmed fear panic... Yet, for some reason, Husk refused to relent. Like right now.

Stubbornly REFUSING to let Angel walk away from a conversation he'd rather not be having. Fur bristling as he bites back a growl, all four fists clench at his sides as he skids to a stop against his will. Were it anyone else lecturing him, the spider would be halfway down the street already. With a curse on his lips and a middle finger on his hand. But it's not... It's fucking Bo Husk, and damnit that means Angel actually feels obligated to listen. Doesn't mean he has to AGREE with anything, but it's hard to brush someone off when they've seen him at his most vulnerable.

Which is why he tries to keep others from SEEING that.

❝ Y'know, it seems like we do an awful lot'a talkin' 'bout things I'd ratha' not. ❞ Angel irritably retorts, spinning on his heel to face the feline. He knows why this is... and loathe as he is to admit, it HAS helped. Being pushed to face things he's been running from for decades is the best and worst thing Husk has done for him. The asshole. ❝ What? You expect me ta make ya a fuckin' list? Want me ta go through ev'ry fuckin' kink there is? Do you even KNOW how much horny shit there is you could do ta me? ❞ Angel does... and that's the issue. He's never had to consider his own opinions when it came to what happens to him. Never let himself mull through it all; think TOO intently on what he does and doesn't like. Instead, his focus was on finding something decent in it... or blocking out what he couldn't sugar-coat.

It's not like it would matter whether he didn't want something. So why go through the trouble of knowing JUST how much he hates what's happening.

❝ Fer fuck's sake, Husk— Isn' this what safe words are fer? Jus' do whateva' you feel like doin' an' if it's a problem, I'll TELL YOU. ❞ Unlike the venom Angel would have spat at the bartender before things became... complicated, he sounds more exasperated ( and desperate for the conversation to end ) . ❝ 'Sides, you ain't gonna come up wit' anythin' that hasn' already been done ta me. So stop fuckin' overthinkin' this an' just DROP IT. ❞ 「 ☆ 」