#this is why i can't consume things in a normal amount i have to Become it

[monzabee]

viva las vegas - mv1 (+18)

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where you and Max celebrate his win in a way you’ve never done before.

Pairing: max verstappen x reader 

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, having sex tipsy but there is consent?, manhandling, unprotected sex (are you even surprised at this point), oral (fem receiving), sex (duh), cursing, cockwarming (oops), minors dni!!

Request: “Hey babe! I’m obsessed with your last Charles piece, I’ve been wanting to read something like that for such a long time and you did it perfectly 😍🥹 I was wondering if I could request kind of the same concept with Max Verstappen? Like he always is pictured as a tough guy and stuff, but when you see him in videos he’s kind of a goof, so I imagine the first time he’s intimate with his gf they’d both laugh and have the sweetest time together” 

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! is this my best work? no but it is something i managed to get done for the first time in like a month so here it is!! finishing this fic was a journey within itself, but i can honestly say that it was also kind fun? also, i saw a picture of max in his suit from vegas and that just inspired this whole thing, so i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

Max is buzzing with life, quite literally, you can feel him practically buzzing the whole time he’s trying to take you back to your hotel room as fast as possible. It’s most likely due to the amount of alcohol the two of you have consumed after the race. Honestly it is pure luck that you found your way back to your room, given your current state, but instead of joining you when you jump on the bed, revelling in its comfort, he chooses to stand at the end of the bed as he watches you with an entertained smile on his face.  

“What?” you ask, a laugh washing through you as you raise yourself on your elbows, “Why are you looking at me like that?”  

He lets his eyes wander over your figure, his smile becoming more boyish as he lets it widen on his face, “You look pretty,” he murmurs, bending down so he can lower himself over your body better, “have I told you how beautiful you looked tonight?” 

“Um, yeah, Maxie,” you giggle as you point out, “you’ve been telling me that the entire night.” Using your hands as support while raising yourself more so that you could be face to face with him, “I think you look pretty too, you know?” 

“Yeah?” Max murmurs, cradling your jaw in one of his hands, his thumb quick to caress the apple of your cheek, which causes you to lean into his touch. “What if I wanted to kiss you, would that be okay?” 

The smile you offer him in return is sweet, the way your eyes seem to shine at the offer of feeling his lips against yours makes his heart beat faster in his chest. “Yes, please.” Your voice is softer, almost comes out as a whisper due to you suddenly feeling out of breath.  

And who is he to deprive his girl? 

He doesn’t waste any time pressing his lips against your awaiting ones, in fact, the movement of his lips are rushed, if not almost desperate. It's as if he can't get enough, as if he's afraid this moment might slip away like sand through his fingers. The taste of alcohol lingers on both your lips, and normally you would be weirded out about it, but you realise it only adds to the intensity of the kiss you’re sharing with Max. His fingers gently tangle in your hair as he deepens the kiss, and you find yourself responding eagerly. You let him take control, mostly because it’s so easy for you to lose yourself in his kiss. He’s lost in it too, if you had to guess, because the way his tongue is fighting over yours for dominance is so different compared to the way Max usually kisses you. You whine at the loss of his lips when he reluctantly pulls away, and if he wasn’t already hard, the sound makes Max’s cock instantly harder. His head is thrown back, eyes closed as he lets out a groan, and he has to stop himself from pulling you in for another kiss. But you clearly have other plans as you drag your lips down towards his jawline, leaving kisses in a random pattern until you reach that one specific point on his neck that absolutely drives him crazy.  

And you know it’s only a matter of time until he stops you, again, as he has done for the past whatever months of your relationship. It’s not that you are not attracted to each other, because the attraction is as clear as day, and you have done stuff – not sex, but stuff. You’re not sure Max does that, but you also don’t want to be the one who pressures him into having sex with you if he doesn’t want to. Unbeknownst to you, the same goes for Max, who thinks you’re not ready to have sex with him and wants your first time together to be as special as possible.  

So no, you’re not surprised as he gently peals himself from you, causing you to whine again at the loss of him, but instead he gives you a small kiss on the forehead as he mumbles, “Why don’t you take a shower? We��ll go to bed after that.”  

“Is that your way of telling me I smell?” You ask in a playful tone, and he responds to you with a roll of his eyes. “What if I don’t want to go to sleep?”  

“No?” He asks, actively searching your expression for any sign of discomfort or reluctance. “We’ve had a long day, are you sure you don’t want to get some sleep?” The look you give him in return for his question is enough, and he knows this, but he also wants to actually hear the words, so he points, “Use your words, liefje.” 

A puff of breath leaves your lips in annoyance, but, nonetheless, you give him the best puppy dog eyes you can muster as you whine, “Please Maxie, you know what I want.”  

“Do I?” He muses, pulling you onto his lap as he ghosts his lips across your jaw. “I don’t know what you mean.”  

“Maxie,” you drag out his name, whining as your attempt at rolling your hips against his thighs don’t work. “You are being mean.”  

“Oh, baby,” he mockingly copies your pout, “I’m sorry. Can I apologise with a kiss?” To make his point, he presses a couple of soft kisses along your jawline.  

“Will you kiss me the way I like?” You ask, slightly out of breath, but his agreement that comes in the form of a hum makes you smile mischievously. His lips trail more kisses towards the neckline of your dress, and eventually through the valley between your breasts that is exposed by the lack of fabric. And you have every intention to let him have his way with you, you really do – after all, he won another great race. But a part of you also knows that making him suffer, even if just a little bit, in the process is so much more fun. So, just as he’s about to free of your breasts from the bustier of your dress, you quickly move away, slipping from his hands, trying your hardest not to laugh at the bewildered expression on his face. “On second thought, I think I’m going to take that shower after all.”  

“I—what?” Max mumbles, his slightly swollen lips pulled in a pout, and you can’t help but give him a small kiss.  

“I’ll see you after my shower, Max Emilian.” Sauntering over to the bathroom, you make sure to add an extra sway to your hips – and the sigh that Max leaves cause the smirk on your face to grow. 

It’s pure torture for Max to wait until you come out of the shower. Not that he doesn’t think about just joining you, especially after the show you just put on, but that would be giving into what you want – and though Max is a generous lover, he is also stubborn. He is more than happy to give you what you want, as long as it is on his terms. And so, he waits patiently, until you come out of the bathroom, a robe draped over your body, and he can’t help himself but let his eyes roam over your body.  

“How was your shower?” Max asks, trying to keep his voice as nonchalant as possible, a wolfish grin curving up on his lips. He rests his hands behind his head, relaxing onto the pillows behind him. He watches you give him a shrug, the soft-looking material sliding of your shoulder slightly as you collect your hair onto your shoulder. “Are you giving me the silent treatment, pretty girl?” 

There’s a coy smile on your face as you shake your head, once, twice, as your teeth press down on your bottom lip. Max wants nothing more than to release your lip, pull you into his lap and have his way with you, but no. No, because Max is nothing if not disciplined. “Come here,” he asks, straightening up in his place. You, being the ever-loving girlfriend you are, oblige his request. “That is a nice robe,” he murmurs, tilting his head as he grabs the towelette belt with the tips of his finger, “is it as soft as it looks?” 

“Mhm-hm,” you nod, “do you want to feel it?” 

“Do I want to feel it?” Max muses, “Sure.” His arms wrap around your middle so quickly that you don’t realise he’s pulling you into his lap at first. But he positions you with your legs on the either side of his. “You’re right, liefje, it is very soft.” His hands roam on your body over the soft material, but soon enough, his hands dipping underneath it to feel your skin. His eyebrows shoot upwards, a mischievous grin spreading on his lips, “No underwear?” 

“Well, I just came out of the shower, Maxie.” You give him an innocent look, shrugging once against as you rest your hands against his shirt-clad chest. “The shower pressure was great, you should’ve joined me.”  

He lets out a noncommittal hum, his hands roaming on your bare skin, revelling in the softness. “I’ll have to take your word for it.” He’s methodical as he slightly shifts you in his lap, tearing a gasp from the back of your throat. That gets a satisfied smile from him, “Something wrong?” 

“N-no,” you mumble, shifting again to get the same feeling, but his hands still you in your place. “Maxie,” you whine, silently pleading with your eyes.  

“Am I being mean again?” He asks, attentive eyes fixed on you, “I would offer to make it up to you with a kiss, but you seem to find ways to evade me when I do.”  

“No,” you whine again, lips pouted in disagreement. “I promise I won’t this time.”  

His eyebrows shoot up again with amusement, “Oh, yeah? Shall we test that theory, pretty girl?” The smile you give him is shy, but the way you nod is nothing short of coy. With a satisfied sound leaving his lips, he quickly presses his lips against yours. You sigh into the kiss, immediately, when you feel him deepening the kiss, more than happy to surrender yourself to him and let Max take the lead. Though, that doesn’t necessarily stop you from attempting to relieve the pressure between your legs by rolling your hips against his thighs. Your efforts, however, prove to be useless as he stops the movement before you can actually relieve any of it. He slowly pulls away, pushes a stray piece of wet hair behind your ear and tuts – condescendingly, you might add – “Slow down, liefje, I think I’ve had enough speed for one day.”  

Groaning at his words, “But Maxie,” you whine, dragging out his name as you let your hands wander on his chest over his shirt and receive a warning look from him in return, “I promise I’ll be good, please just fuck me.”  

“Baby,” he coos, his fingers working quickly to unfasten the belt of your robe and push the offending clothing off your shoulders, “I literally just told you to be patient, no?” 

You ignore the raised eyebrow, the look of faux-disappointment, and even the way his fingers grab your waist because you’re too busy trying to get him out of his shirt, suddenly feeling too exposed as you sit on his lap naked. “Please,” you whisper against his skin, peppering kisses across the column of his throat as your hands make their way inside his shirt, “I’ll be patient next time.”  

“I’m suddenly realising that I spoil you very much,” Max mumbles, pulling his head back to get a look at you.  

Pulling back as well you give him a mischievous grin, “Maybe, but you’ll give me what I want this time as well.”  

“Yeah?” He asks, “Why?” 

“Because I think I’m getting your pants very messy right now.”  

Max can’t help the groan that escapes past his lips, his eyes quickly following yours as he takes in the ‘damage’ your wetness has caused on his jeans. He takes a moment to assess the damage, drags his eyes up to look at you when he notices the way your eyes stay fixed down, as your nervously bite down on your lower lip. He loses all the composure he managed to muster up, and he finally gives in, quickly pushing you off him onto the pillows on the bed. The squeal that leaves you is followed by a string of giggles that leave your lips, and when Max looks at you, he takes in the darker look in your widened eyes.  

“I was going to be patient; I can’t believe you’re making me not be patient.” He mumbles, taking off his shirt and the rest of his clothes before starting to leave kisses on your feverish skin as he slides down your body and places himself between your thighs.  

You open your legs wider to accommodate his body, a breathy laugh escaping past your lips. “You mean, impatient?” 

That earns you a nip on your upper thigh and a warning look, but instead of commenting on your quip, he lowers his face, keeps his eyes locked to yours and gets to work. And it’s not that you and Max haven’t done stuff – because it’s the opposite; although you haven’t had sex, it’s safe to say that the two you have explored every option bordering on sex. But how he’s acting right now is much different than the way how he is usually with you. His movements are almost rushed, and the way he drags his tongue through your folds is just enough for your eyes to roll back as your moans fill the room.  

Normally, he would be extra careful and make sure he is being gentle with you; but right now, he’s just trying to savour you before he loses all his composure. A choppy gasp leaves you as you feel his fingers enter you – two at first, and the way he pumps them in and out of you makes breathing harder. The speed of his fingers matches his tongue, and for a moment, you think you’re going to pass out. With his free hand, he blocks any type of movement you try with your hips; his palm sneakily presses down on your lower stomach to keep you in your place, but it’s jokes on him because if anything, it just makes you feel even better, and you’re not shy to let him know just how much he’s making you feel good with your moans.  

“Max,” you say his name in a breathy whimper, fingers threading through his hair to guide him, “fuck, I’m so close.” You can practically feel the way his lips curl up, and suddenly, everything about his actions gets faster. His fingers are pistoning in and out of you in an unforgiving pace, in sync with his tongue that works your clit just the same. So, it’s no surprise when you find yourself coming on his tongue as his name leaves your lips for the umpteenth time like a prayer.

The smirk he gives you when he pulls himself from between your legs is sinful – he looks absolutely debauched with the way his lips glisten with your release, and he wastes no time before coming up, and capturing your lips in yet another bruising kiss. But this time, you taste yourself on his tongue and this time it makes you lose the whatever little resolve you’ve had left. So, you hook your leg around his thigh to push him next to you on the bed as you practically throw him next to you on the bed.  

Though he has other plans.   Of course.  

So, as you’re trying to fight the seventy-kilogram-something driver into staying under you on the bed, he has no problem manhandling you into rolling on your side. And as you’re pressed flush against his chest, you turn your head backwards to breathlessly whisper, “You promised, Max.”  

“And I am a man of my word, aren’t I?” He retorts, his hand that is splayed on your thigh positions it so that it’s bent towards your stomach, “Just needed to get you ready.” You can’t help the guttural moan that escapes you when you feel him pressing the tip of his cock into your entrance. The pleading look you give him must’ve worked, because this time it’s his turn to let out a guttural moan as he pushes himself into you. There is no sign of his mood from mere moments ago as you feel his hands caress your bare hip, an entitled smirk on his lips as he asks, “Out of breath?” 

“Fuck you,” your response comes out as a breathy laugh as you’re pushing your hips closer to his to take him deeper.  

“Lifje, you are fucking me.” Max giggles into the crook of your neck as he pushes himself in fully. You would be furious with him if it didn’t make you laugh also, and although the laughing decrease, the smiles remain on both your faces as he starts slowly moving his hips. 

It’s sweet, unbelievably sweet, considering the sexual tension that was in the room an hour ago, but the way Max is fucking you can only be described as sweet. His hands caress every part of your body that he can reach – your thighs, to your hips, to your stomach, to your chest and then wraps one of his hands around your throat; not in a way that is rough, but in a way that he can still keep you still as he captures your lips for another kiss. The movement of his hips is languid, almost lazy as drive into you, but he still manages to hit all the spots along the way. Breathy chuckles are exchanged when he pulls away for you to organise your breathing, but your smiles still stay on, even when he raises your bent leg and rests his on his own leg. The new angle makes your moans get louder, your hips to move against his faster, and you can feel your orgasm approach speedily.  

But Max is so in tune with your body that he knows what’s coming (or rather who) before you get a chance to actually have to say anything. His hand slides down your body so that he can press his fingers to your clit and move them in tight circles, and as if it was possible, his you can suddenly feel him fucking you even deeper. “You are going to come for me pretty girl, I can feel it.” He murmurs into your skin, and all you can offer as an answer is a nod and an affirmative whimper as you squeeze your eyes shut. “Come on, give it to me, come on my cock.” And though he is not the most verbal person to ever exist, except for when he’s in the mood to be an absolute yapper, his words urge you to let go of the feeling that has been starting to brew in your stomach.  

Your hips start moving to meet his in choppy movements as you seek any and all kinds of pleasure to reach your high, and he meets your every move with increasing intensity of his own. “Max, yes!” Your exclamation hits his ears as he hits that one particular spot, making you instantly become lax in his arms as he guides you through your orgasm. His name spills out from your lips in constant repetition, “So good, so good,” you keep mumbling in breathless whimpers, trying to press yourself further into his body.  

With all things considered, it doesn’t take Max long to reach his own high following your own, since you insistently move your hips in a way that makes you take his cock even deeper when he’s helping you ride your orgasm. So, when you hear him groaning your name in the crook of your neck and feel him spilling himself into you. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he croaks out, holding your hips in place with his hands splayed on your feverish skin. “Why didn’t we do this sooner?” 

“How am I supposed to know, dummy?” You ask, throwing your head back to get a good look of his dishevelled state, “Why do you look so good after mind blowing sex?” 

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, pulling you with him as he lets himself fall back on the bed, “genetics?” 

“Mhm,” you murmur, trying to find a comfortable position on his chest as he is still inside you, “remind me to send your mother a flower arrangement when we get back, or something.” 

A deep blush covers his cheeks, as if he hasn’t been fucking you for the past hour or so, as he stammers, “I– I mean, yeah.” This time, it’s your turn to give a non-committal hum, followed by a satisfied sigh as you snuggle him closer and close your eyes. “Just go to sleep, baby, we can deal with it in the morning.” 

“’Mkay,” you mumble, feeling his hand draw soothing circles on your back. “But you’re still gonna fuck me tomorrow, right?” 

This gets another loud laugh from the driver laying down under you, and both of you know that he’s going to do just that when you wake up in the morning. 

[kujoestars]

The Mechanism of Kafka's Transformation and How It Affects Him

(Crossposting my analysis/theory from Reddit. Also, warning: this post contains both anime and manga spoilers so beware if you are anime-only)

So, something that drove me nuts about the manga's version of the X-ray scene was the fact that there was literally no difference from a normal human chest x-ray. The anime THANK GOODNESS fixed that:

We finally know exactly how Kafka's core looks while he's in human form. It appears to be primarily occupying where the chambers would be with a good amount of myocardium (the heart muscles) suspending it while also continuing to function as a heart.

Notably for me, there's actually a translucent hemicircle up top there where it's supposed to connect to the aorta. In fact, you can see the core is translucent on its left (our right) side while more opaque to its right (our left).

Let me highlight it for reference I hope y'all appreciate the fact I had to do it with a mouse on MSPaint because Reddit won't save images to drafts and I can't drop images from tablet like on desktop:

It appears that Kafka's heart was fully converted and the tissue there is just a facsimile since it appears to be forming a pouch for the core to nestle in.

The anime's expansion of the scene the Mysterious Larva/Young Yoju fused with Kafka ended up perfectly tying in to this. Something I noticed was that Kafka was not actually transforming for most of it. Initially he was clutching at his throat where it entered:

Then just before the transformation started (when his eyes started glowing), he was clawing desperately at his chest:

For reference to anyone who's never studied anatomy, the mid-esophagus is actually resting against the heart, which is why the best form of imaging for the heart is a transesophageal echocardiogram (i.e. stick an ultrasound down the esophagus), which works like in this diagram:

In other words, the Larva's target was his heart and it was burrowing into it from that point. Which is consistent with where Kafka was clawing at in the shot I posted before and why after the change completed, his hand was resting just above that area:

Basically, the theory I have been saving specifically for after this episode is: Everything about Kafka's body is tied to the core.

Yes, that was obvious since we saw him regenerate his entire body from just the core, but what I'm saying here is that that the heart was the only thing the Larva was trying to fuse with. The rest of the body followed instantaneously once the heart became a core. Kaiju cores appear to be storing a lot of energy, so it would fit in with why even the initial change could happen so rapidly. It was a large burst of energy that had Kafka's cells all convert and restructure, and we even see steam coming both off and out of him here in the anime.

All future changes seem to be purely a matter of him controlling every cell in his body like individual muscles or even like how cuttlefish and octopi are able to change their appearance in an instant from muscle contractions and chromatophores.

In other words, the evidence has stacked to full OVERKILL that Kafka is truly a kaiju that can shapeshift into a human rather than the reverse like he and everyone else prefers to think.

Which leads me to my big pet theory right now: the reason Kafka is losing his ability to revert to human form is because he's becoming malnourished. I won't stack the image evidence since I've already done enough and the focus is on the core and Kafka's real biological nature now (I'll save that for a future post, lol), but it only stands to reason that if Kafka is physiologically a kaiju regardless of form, that means he has the metabolic needs of a kaiju.

He was only fine before because he had a lot of extra body fat as reserves and didn't use his kaiju form much. But after entering the Defense Force, he's been in multiple situations where he had to push himself while transformed and consume much more energy. If you pay attention to his body type, you'll notice he's been having quite a bit of weight loss.

Sure, he's been training a lot too and eating better, but following the fight with Isao, he's becoming abnormally thin. Maybe not enough for people to immediately think he needs a sandwich, but as of the latest chapters, I've noticed he's actually pretty lanky now even in kaiju form when previously Kaiju No. 8 was built like a bear.

You could argue it's just art evolution EXCEPT literally no one else had such a drastic change in body type or AT ALL. I'm pretty convinced this is an intentional transition from Matsumoto.

Whatever Kafka is eating as a human, it's not enough to sustain him long term and so his body is going into power save mode. And since his default is kaiju (why else would he constantly slip up his first few months if it wasn't actually his default form?), his body is losing its ability to shapeshift because it doesn't have the energy to. Malnourishment tends to manifest in a similarly piecemeal fashion irl, so I'm not surprised its first sign is just one spot on his hand.

Such a deceptively simple reason for the kaijufication is precisely why I'm very certain that is the cause. Kafka has a lot of issues with loving and taking care of himself. And this series is all about subverting tropes in favor of common sense. It's not some "inner demon" trying to take over (the Larva actually only did that once because Kafka was both in danger and refusing to fight back what it perceived as another daikaiju); Kafka just isn't taking care of himself as usual!

And there you have it, folks. Finally, a clear breakdown of what exactly the Larva did, how the transformations work, and why the kaijufication may not be as scary as everyone thinks. Or rather....not in the way they think. Someone please feed that kaiju properly!

[thebottomfromhell]

I was wondering if you could do some headcanons for the upper moons realizing they’ve fallen for a human! My preference is for a male reader, but you can leave gn, no problem. What do you think is most likely to happen to the human? To die? Get eaten?! Forced to become a demon? All in peace?!

Ok, I will try to stuck as close to canon as I can in this one, since I can sense the direction this is meant to take. I will say now, this post is a reminder of what an Uppermoon is.

I always make reader to be the one making the first move, to be lovable for the Uppermons for them to actually fall in love in a stable state or the ideal state they will be able to handdle this freaks. I will also try to make it a bit funny in what is possible.

Uppermoons reaction of falling in love with Human Male Reader

Warnings: Manga spoilers, Reader's death, Cannibalism, Yandere behavior, Mentioned torture, Non consented body modifications, Coerced body modification (becoming a demon), Implied non-con sexual content, Predatory animalistic behavior, Münchausen syndrome, Vore elements (it's not kinky, but some of theses guys do consume you), Implied child abuse, Every damn of this mf are their own warnings.

Gyutaro (ft Daki):

It takes Gyutaro a while for him to realize what exactly he feels, but the second he has the slightlest idea, he is afraid.

Not of being attracted to a man, of course, 'Is normal for men to lust after other men, ne. Just look at the actors and servants in the threater. Ne. Recently they hide it a lot more, for some reason." 💀

He doesn't like liking a human, of all things. It's scary, a weakness both demons and slayers alike might abuse.

That and the fact that he is very insecure, how could you love him back? He isn't even trying, what is you decide to abuse it too? That is the closest thing he knows he could get to being with you. He is not stupid, or clueless at least, he knows he can't say "no" to the ones he cares about. (Daki, himself and Daki. And now you.)

He starts a hot and could routine, going from avoiding you completely to yeatning and searching your company. He hates it, he starts to resent you for ir. Why must you have this amount of power over him.

He also protects you. Makes sure you are ok. He will most of the time be like a shadow, not getting close or risking you getting too far.

The dynamic becomes unhealthy, obssesive, Daki also starts to resent you for it. And it's visible, she insults you, destroys your things, and even tried to harm you several. Gyutaro is the one to protect you from her.

"I HATE YOU! YOU HAVE RUINED MY ONII-CHAN! HE DESERVES BETTER THAN A PATHETIC HUMAN!"

Unless you make a move on him or reject directly, you can expect this to last until one of you die. The thing is, while is hard not to notice what Gyutaro is doing, you can easily live and get away with this. You have the protection of Uppermoon 6 in exchange of your mere presence. He doesn't force more than that on you.

Gyokko:

Gyokko figures what he wants from you almost instantly, even before fully knowing how he feels exactly.

5 weeks, give or take. That's the most you can realistically get.

He doesn't care you are a man, of course not, if he wants you why would that matter? His taste, what he defines by beauty, is his own law. Men can be beautiful, and humans can be art.

Gyokko is going to be "nice" at first, he will show you his pots, bring you eyes, hands and skin from his victims, try to teach you the right path of art.

You are a man, men can learn art, erudites are artists. You can learn, as hopeless as it seems.

Anger him once- lose a foot in his mouthes. Then the same leg to the knee, then the thigh.... you only have so much to fail. And you will. Gyokko is meant to neither get bored or tired, because as a human you just can't understand the beauty of mutating a human body against it's will, painfully and messy into a new final product. Just a shadow of a the humanity left.

Now, once you have no legs, you have two choices. Die. Or beg. Beg for hin to let you understand, to make something sublime out you.... beg and he will.

You will be awake, he will carefully, almost lovingly, open your chest, take out your heart, maybe take a bite, and he will bleed into the wounds.

Become a demon for him, to him, all his.

Hantengu:

At the slightlest possibility of falling in love with you he cowers away.

Hantengu? Hantengu? Where did he go? What do you mean you haven't seen him in 3 months? >:v

He will come back, he will always come back and grab you. He will scratch you and sob, and sob and sob-

He has never been interested in men before, he had several wives in life, but not men. Men were always scary, strong and big, he was scary once too. He is scary now, but he still feels so scared. He touches your arms, shoulders, legs, all too masculine to be soft and comforting.

He will dissapear and come back to that routine, sometimes you wake up at night with him over you, crying.

Sometimes he is scared of you, sometimes he is scared for you. You can't talk or reason to him. You try, but you are a human. He doesn't have to listen to you. You are beloved, you are food, you are big, you are handsome, you are useless, you are mortal, you are nice, you are-

He can't deal with it. He genuinely tried. He tried and failed. He needs to get rid of you, you are too much. He is so sorry, he sobs, so sorry about this. Over you at night, you were sleeping the second he stabs you chest with a knife. Once, twice, thrice, and more, more, more. And he is so sorry-

S O R R Y

Sekido:

Run....

No, really, run. He realized after a while and he is NOT happy about them. "WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO ME YOU PIECE OF SHIT?!"

You still have a chance to survive, but you must run. He must calm down and you need to get away from him before that. He will realize it's nobody's fault, but until then he will attack. Get Karaku, that is your best bet.

He doesn't care you are a man, but the fact a puny and frail human makes his hesrt beat faster, face heat up, and invade his mind to the point he is always coming for you.... he hates it, it irritates him. He is just so angry.

If you survived this part, probably with the help of the other clones, who would see it as a waste you dying right now (specially Karaku, he would do anything to annoy Sekido), he will talk to you.

"You will die. I want to spend more time with you, and that means you will die. I will get angry and kill you." He will, unless you turn into a demon, he has thought about it. That is your choice.

You might actually have a... stable relationship, if you accept. Sekido will hold you through all the process as he bleeds into a bite he himself did in your shoulder, taking a bite before forcing you to fade into something else.

He is not planning to let you go now that you are his.

Karaku:

He already knew he lusted you the first night, nothing new. You take that as a chance of survival, for YEARS [you are living a lot more as a human than anyone else].

He both takes you and let you take him, sometimes he is very insistent. "C'mon, don't bore me. Have fun with me or I might get rid of ya."

He also openly flirts with you, not csring for your gender, gets you gifts, kisses you, takes care of you. He makes sure to be worth the while. He is careful, you always feel pleasure with him, even when you don't want to.

"You are so handsome, so good for me~ yes, you are a very good boy. I want to be like this with you forever."

It takes him years, he realizes it's not normal lust, there is more. He wants more. He should have already getting bored of you, but he didn't. He never will.

For the first time he actually hurts you during sex, he bites your neck to the point you bleed, moaning against the taste, you get tired from the effort and blood loss. Everything gets numb, heavy, and you close your eyes as you are deep within him

You will open them without any memories, just a new, hungry and bloodthirsty body. And him offering himself to a new you.

Urogi:

Urogi doesn't want to hurt you, that is good.

Urogi wants to play with you and have your constant attention... that is not so good. Because he will hurt you.

He scratches, bites, pushes you around, forces you to run as he chases through the sky. How are you supposed to last in anything against him. But again, he doesn't want to hurt you, so he doesn't get angry of this.

He more often than not licks the blood and the wounds he caused, then cuddles into your lap. Smell your masculine scent from your scrotch when he uses your legs as a pillow and from your neck when he sits on them, he likes being over you.

But again, Urogi is meant to get bored of your limits while playing with you. You were actually already expecting it the night he decides to make a drastic move.

That night be hasically bit your wrist off, tasting your flesh, moaning as he enjoys the taste. You don't get to run away again, too tired and hurt, as he finishes the meal before forcing his own flesh in your mouth.

If you have trouble biting, the he will bite a part off and chew it for you before feeding you mouth to mouth, force both blood and tissue into your throat with his tongue.

You will become a demon you you can both play more.

Aizetsu:

"It's so sad, pitiful, that I'm attracted to you. A human of all things." ..... that was hurtful.

You made his heart beat slightly and gave him a knot on his throat. His honest thought was "WHY a human?" Something that he is meant to lose, no matter what. That is so sad.

He pities himself more than he pities you, but that doesn't stop him from keeping you around. He is gentle and soft, if it wasn't because of his nature it would almost be endearing. You talk, you walk together, sometimes he even holds you.

He doesn't mind that you are a man, but he can't take the thought of you leaving him. He makes sure to be pitiful around you, to manipulate you into letting him take advantage that you are weak in every sense. Soon, you are the one cuddling and comforting.

He kills you at the first problem to arise, Sekido using you to threat him into "becoming more useful". Better know than waiting to become even more attached, that will only make it sadder. He is so sad already, but he wants to evade being too miserable.

He will kiss your first, thank you for everything, let you have your last words and last wish. Then he will make it fast, painless.

He will kiss your corpse again before making himself a memorial for you. So sad.

Nakime:

DENIAL IS A RIVER IN EGYPT-

She is in love with a MAN? Like... a man?(PTSD of dead husband. She killed him.)

I'm sorry, you have at most an hour left to live, she is not dealing with so much. (Ok, let's be real, she might actually kill you, so just give her space.)

[Only one that actually reacts to your gender, like... why a man?]

She is as chill as she can be, so as long as you don't look at talk to her, look at her and evade her the best you can she will just let you be.

You being a man is an annoyance, even if that is the first though of you, it's easy to get over. You being a human... she is very loyal to Muzan (she doesn't count him as a man, he's god to demons, ofc), she would never put you over him.

She will actually talk the issue to you once she is ready, make the offer. Let you become a demon. She will transform you herself if you accept, if not then the will just throw you out her realm.

You will never hear a whisper of her again, she won't kill you herself, not waisting her time and effort in you. Her husband didn't deserve it, and she is seeing you like that too.

You should be able to live your own life as long as you don't ever cross any interdimentional door again. If you do...

Dead end.

Akaza:

Slow burn what slow burn? He falls fast and hard, too fast and hard for his own liking. So what if you are a man? He was never picky.

"BECOME A DEMON SO WE CAN BE TOGETHER FOR ETERNITY!!" Dude, chill! You both just met an hour ago! He is obssesed. Too obssesed.

Akaza will hurt you, will show you how weak you are, tease of how you could be more. He wants you, he wants you a lot, too much for his own good. It pains him.

He will bring you to the brink of death, while not really trying to kill you. Similar to a cat with a mouse. He will let you in the brink of death once and let you heal, sometimes even heal you himself (talk about Münchausen syndrome). He will do it again, and again, and again.

If you don't accept from all the torture, the now broken and useless limbs and bones, senses wrecked, constant pain in your body and a giant exhaustion after all the times he had his ways with you.

He even starts taking care of you, Akaza cleans the house since you can't even stand anymore, he cooks and learns your favorite recipes, he washes your clothes, takes you out to walks at night in his back, gets money (you don't know how and you are too scared to ask), he nurses you,

He won't turn you unless you consent to it, even if every day it looks less like a choice and more like the only way to get out. Sometime you wish he didn't make you have to choose.

If you never become a demon he will keep you like this until you die of... pain? Age? Exhaustion? Who knows? But you will die with the responsible of your state tending your wounds.

Douma:

Ok, listen, whatever you do, don't make any sudden movement, your situation is pretty delicate. There is still a chance of getting out alive NO, THAT'S A LIE, JUST PANIC AS MUCH AS YOU WANT, YOU'RE DEAD

Douma thinks he is feeling hunger around you as he craves and lust for you💀💀 he also thinks you're funny and dummy.. Like hell he can name whatever he is feeling but IT'S NOT SAFE

He wants you around, but he is always sure you will try to leave like Kotoha did. This has already happen once. Does he regrets his actions? Is he even able to regret besides sometimes wishing she was still around?

You are nothing like her. You are not even a "her", so he doesn't even understand why he compares you both so much. But he sees it. You will try to leave, no matter how nice, how kind, how generous, how serving he is with you. You will leave if he doesn't do something about it.

Transform you into a demon? So you could actually get the power you would need to run away? It would only take one Uppermoon meeting and you would be gone by the time he was back home. He is not dumb enough to think anyone would help him find you.

He eats you, taking his time with you. He will start hugging and kissing you, not caring if you want it or not. He will first bite you mouth so you can talk, can't ask for help if someone hears you scream (his followers would take his words over your, how would they take some non-intelligent screams over his voice then?)

Then he would rip your legs so you can't run, before eating him in front of you, praising the taste, kissing you to share it, commenting on hiw your skin and tissue feel in his mouth. After the legs, he waits for you to "calm down" (you are actually dying, losing blood) before finsihing without any rush.

He would keep talking to you even after your heart stopped beating. Be as gently as he can. Once he finishes, he will be satisfied. Not only his stomach is full, but you will be forever inside him. Lovely.

Kokushibou:

.... he barely realizes.

This is a married widow samurai, his priority is his sword to surpass his long dead brother

But he likes, he thinks you're handsome. Attractive. Not that he would ever try to put it into words. (Someone tell this guy that no, not EVERY man is attracted to other men but marries a woman they don't even like because of obligation. That some people are ACTUALLY attracted to their opposite gender and spouse.)

[His wife though he was gay once he heard Michikatsu left her and their children to follow another man. Like bitch, did he even explain they were brothers?]

But again, beside just looking at you, does he even care? Does he even have anything in his heart besides this desire, this craving, this greed for power? To be more powerful than his own little brother? To take the place he was promised as the warrior, the gentleman of the gentry, that he was so afraid Yoriichi would take away?

It's never about you, even when he is with you. He will stay with you in silence, sometimes watch you from the distance, but it's never about you.

It's about himself. It's always about himself. You are only a pleasure that, like those days he visited his little brother, so lonely and weird, a freak that barely reacted to anything in his cage, (are those his thoughts or just the resentment inside him? Is it even real or Muzan somehow made it worse?) will fade away, and he will hate those moments and you.

You are a human, you are meant to die. He likes you, so he will keep you around, but nothing else. Kokushibou loves you know, and he will hate you in 100 years more, once you are gone. Simple as that.

He will cry and hate you the second your corpse touches the ground. Like Yoriichi did.

[phantomdoofer]

So. Nearly everyone I write has powers. But what are those powers? Well, here ya go.

Peppino and Giuseppe - super-strength and super-speed. The strength derives from their anger, the speed from fear, so when they feel those emotions strongly, they get a power boost and it can run out of control. They can activate it at will. The strength power also comes with the side-effect of causing them to build muscle bulk at a highly accelerated rate. This is more or less padding against both their powers. These powers also interact sometimes; that's why when they get up to speed they also create a destructive barrier.

Gustavo: animal telepathy. Gustavo can, bluntly, speak to animals telepathically. He can also pick up emotions off other sapients, especially strong ones, but this is more a side-effect. He cannot fully control this, and it's always on, so he can faintly hear any animal's thoughts at close range. He can focus to cut it down to one voice, or expand it.

Pepperman: ego boost. Pepperman's power increases his size and strength dramatically, based on his egotism. If he loses faith in himself, he loses them (that's why he shrinks at the end of his fight). This isn't a hair-trigger - it has to be a massive drop in confidence. In his "normal" size, he's a bit of a runt for a Verduran. When he starts "getting mad" in his second phase, that's actually him psyching himself up to keep his form!

Vigilante and Anita: true sight. Both of them have the same power (Pizzamancer created Cheeseslimes, and he used people as the base; they assume one of Anita's ancestors was one of them), which, on the surface, gives them immense telescopic vision and the ability to "lock on" to a target so they don't lose it. It also sometimes lets them see things in their "true" form, such as invisible things and through illusions.

Noise: according to doctors, Noise does not have any powers; however, his tendency to develop claws and fangs, and even briefly assume a monstrous form, seem to indicate otherwise. It's honestly still under investigation. He hasn't asked Aldo because Aldo hasn't revealed he can actually engineer superpowers.

Noisette: Cartoon. Noisette's powers let her essentially become a living cartoon. She can pull objects from nowhere, ignore the laws of physics (if it's funny), and is functionally invulnerable (assuming you don't have an eraser or something like paint thinner). However, she slowly loses her self-control in that form, so she never goes full Toon. She's also afraid if she stays that way too long she won't be able to come back - the more Toon she goes, the longer it takes to revert. In fact, part of her current wacky behavior is because she never fully reverted from Toon form after her first big transformation. She's very careful about doing much with it as a result.

Fake: Fake doesn't have "superpowers" per se, but their strange form lets them do a lot: they can shape-shift, jump incredibly high, grow briefly into a "combat" form, consume almost infinite amounts of mass, turn liquid, split into five with all the same powers, and so on. Being a mix of two different species (human and frog) also gives them a wider array of instincts and broader senses. Plus having a five-way internal dialogue means they're very deliberate.

Paolo (Pizzahead): While Paolo had much the same Cartoon powers as Noisette while he was Pizzahead, his real power is actually Mechanical Aptitude: he instinctively knows how machines work just by looking at them for a while, so long as he's taken something similar apart before.

Aldo: Phoenix. Aldo has one of the most overpowered abilities in the world, allowing him to regenerate from literally anything. He can also burn through things on a conceptual, not physical, level, so he literally can't be contained. It also froze his aging, so he's functionally immortal. He even uses a limited form of telekinesis, by wrapping something in a cocoon of flame then manipulating it. It maintains his health, as well - any virus, tumor, or agent that tries to alter his body gets quite literally burned away. This means Aldo is often in faint pain, as his body incinerates these things - meaning he's almost always burning alive, just a little. He's got one hell of a built-up pain tolerance as a result.

[tench]

Why can't I be normal, if I don't like the narrative style of a thing it is a valid reason not to interact with it or the other projects of the same creators, no matter how popular and hyped up by other people it is.

I guess I don't want to feel left out. I wonder if it's how cats feel like: "I want to be included but I don't like to be here, it's noisy and people keep bothering me and experience of being here doesn't worth it... But I want to be included!"

The other side of the coin is when a thing I enjoy becomes very popular and people are insufferable about it. It is everywhere and I start to hate it. I mean I am a grownup woman so I'm trying to minimize my interaction with the fandom, but it's honestly feels very unfair that I have to let go of something I like because other people came to claim and distort it. Also, the speed I apparently "need to consume content and the amount of it" honestly makes me nauseous. What do you mean I have to binge read the whole series till the second episode drops because spoilers for it will be everywhere? What do you mean there are several books of additional comics and tidbits? I think I'll wait when you will lose interest in a couple of months and continue to chew on it a chapter in years, thank you very much.

I guess my problem is that I don't have the energy. And a close group of like minded people to share my grievances with. I would say that I'm getting old, but with all honestly, I always was like that. Sorry.

[inseparabiles]

Bi-yearly update on how things are going;

fulfilled the absolutely feral need to visit London for the first time in ten years the other week. And while mentally speaking, this was a straight five days of winning nonstop, physically speaking, I guess we're paying for it with our lives.

It's hilarious. Like it's legitimately hilarious. One of the leading reasons why this had to happen now, immediately is that our coping mechanisms have all burned to nothing, and all that remains, somehow, is TMA/TMP and its unholy sidetracking trainwreck, our recently-burgeoned obsession (special interest) with Regency London theatre history. And right now, before I explain how this one trip has both fixed everything and also killed us, I need to bridge the gap between these two interests and how they've become the entire foundation of our life.

I don't need to recap for anybody the world situation. Everybody knows everything is fucked, and that alone is great cause enough to dive as deep into a rabbit hole as you humanely can. (Speaking of rabbit holes, the Royal Ballet's Alice's Adventures in the Wonderland is spectacular and hilarious at the same time. Worth dying over, I guess.)

But on top of that, our first dog, who we adopted as a wee lil slipper-looking thing 13 years ago, died this past winter/spring. His heart gave out basically the day after we'd picked up Joseph Grimaldi's memoirs for, uh, some form of research/intrigue, handed down to us from the TMA lore. This is where the horrible, terrible, all-consuming spiral began. Turns out, Joe was a great guy. Like legitimately just a good person. And you know who really needed a good, solid guy to lean on at that time? We did.

So our dog, whom we've shared our best but mostly the worst with for the entirety of our adulthood, including the entirety of what we consciously can recognise as our lived experience, died. And what we were left with was Joseph Grimaldi. For straight up the rest of this year, we've done nothing but read about Grimaldi, London theatre, gotten way too into ballet and opera, and become such an unrelenting history buff that our mother - the woman who has been dragging us all over Europe to look at ancient ruins and cultivate an appreciation for all things past and cultural since we were 12 years old - has began to audibly groan and tell us to change the subject when we get into talking history.

(She also, somehow, confused our interest with Regency theatre, from the perspective of a literal bastard-son-of-an-immigrant, born-in-a-slum-to-a-teen-mum Clown lingering on the precipice of financial ruin like a solid 60% of his entire life, with becoming a royalist. Nah mate the aristocracy can go suck a lemon for all I care I'm not interested in rich people. Can't even get into the usual Regency gateway drug of Jane Austen for the amount of rich people in the stories. Anyway, she was absolutely devastated when she tried to fire back about our rant over the Kennedy lobotomy case by firing at the British royalty, and like... SHALL WE GET INTO THAT CAN OF WORMS NEXT? SHALL WE?)

SO ANYWAY our coping mechanisms went from absolutely fuck all to theatre! Theatre everywhere! Also London, because why not make an already expensive coping mechanism even more expensive by adding travel into it! We've probably spent more than our yearly loose income so far on theatre, theatre, ballet, travel, and the truckload of related stuff like.... a home library's worth of books?

And if this doesn't sound unhinged enough yet, that's fine, because it isn't. It's fairly normal to have hobbies and god knows we need hobbies and interests as a society right now. Where it gets actually funny is when I/we/someone here managed to tire our mum out enough to get her to agree to the London trip. Being disabled, it's hard for us to take initiative, it's hard for us to feel like we're capable of making things like that happen - travel is a lot of planning for a brain that dries out like a raisin when exposed to the concept of cleaning the house, or reading a regular ass timetable.

So. This fun thing that's going to happen. We get so stressed and nervous about it a week in advance that we first stop eating, and then sleeping. Trying to get through the mandatory prep of setting the house up for the catsitter, packing - which we did the night of travel - while also being wildly out of our minds, and doing things like starting a whole new crafting hobby by buying a printer and sitting down to make 20 000 custom pendants while figuring from scratch how to get all of the bits and pieces to actually work together without the ink blurring or getting bubbles in the glue and whatnot, with an average of two to three hours of sleep a night, in several bits and pieces.

Enter travel day - we haven't eaten more than a couple slices of white bread with butter for three days, haven't slept, and the airport hotel feels like heaven. Sleep a solid five hours that night, then eat a breakfast of things such as egg and egg and egg + some smoked turkey, which is all nutritious, and probably saved our life, for the next two weeks before this inevitable destruction that has followed, but not yet.

Travel takes, what, 6 hours, plus airport wait time? 3 hours flying, can't sleep, for the first time in our life we actually manage to get motion sick from the plane, because it's just flying way too smoothly. Way longer than anticipated in a coach, because our route, bought as a 1 hour trip, is served by National Express and is actually 2,5 hours.

Tis all fine! We are fed, we have slept an unprecedented amount! Arriving in London, we decide to walk from Victoria Station to King's Cross, via the route of mandatory Buckingham Palace to Covent Garden (where the fuck is the entrance to the Royal Opera House?) to Russell Square to there. It's fantastic and the body's natural opioids have kicked in; 17 000 steps later, carrying an 8-kilo backpack, we're at the hotel.

Going to bed pretty much immediately, we get another non-solid three hours of sleep. Our mum has sleep apnea and doesn't travel with her CPAP, so it's a lot of half-consciously listening to her choking and having the wildest mixing-up of reality with dream state going on. Then she gets a panic attack, because we're locked in a basement room, and she's claustrophobic. Two hours of drinking decaf on the beds and trying to talk that one out, she ultimately calms down enough to resume sleep after setting up a room swap for the day after.

I cannot remember the day after. I do remember being so fucking nauseous we could only barely down half a salad and some bread. I don't know what on earth we did on this day. I know we walked 14 000 steps, because that's in my Samsung Health calendar. Aside from that, I ???? do not know. I do not know. Realistically, this has to be the day we dragged our mum to visit Grimaldi's grave and then got lost on the way to the British Museum. We tripped on a cable laid out across the street at some point, and our mum took a nose dive on the pavement thanks to that, and probably broke her arm, which has made her cranky for the past two weeks. But at this point, like holy shit were the chickens coming home to roost on the whole "haven't eaten have never slept" business.

I cannot remember this day, aside from being sleepdebt-drunk out of my mind in the British Museum, and having nerves I've never experienced outside of conventions about visiting a guy's grave. The Grimaldi Park is, though, a really peaceful place, so at least there was that.

Next day, and here is I think where our fate is sealed, is the ballet at the Opera House. Feeling great on the day, we've slept an unknown amount of time and woke up at 1am, then managed another two hours around 10am after going to shop for food and before walking back to Covent Garden for the show. A fatal error is made; I drink a chocolate milk that has not been refrigerated. I do not know what an enormous, horrible mistake this has been before we're in Covent Garden and the food poisoning hits.

Dear. Fucking. God.

We probably had plans for the three hours we ended up spending touring local bathrooms, but I wouldn't know. All we experienced in that time was the same sleepdebt-drunken stupour mixed with existential panic and, well, food poisoning. Add in that we're severely emetophobic, and there was an actual, very real debate here whether it was worth it to just go cry ourselves to sleep at the hotel instead of trying to face the music and survive the ballet that we'd come there for to begin with. Like, in any other scenario, hotel it would have been. But this fucking ballet cost us over 100 euros on its own, not to mention the flights, the hotel, the travel in general, and the sheer fucking suffering we'd been through to get there. Besides, a food poisoning you get from your own hubris is not contagious, so this was an isolated us-issue, at least until we'd hurl on somebody.

Half an hour of sitting in the corridor outside the auditorium doing breathing exercises later, we're like... solidly able to exist again. Until we actually enter the auditorium, and our seats are ceiling-high, and there's a sheer drop down to the pit that has no railings whatsoever.

I mentioned the emetophobia, but we also do not deal with heights. So it's another, oh shit I am going to fucking throw up holy god oh my sweet jesus my good time pal my rotten soldier. Closing our eyes, trying to stabilise, did not throw up, managed to get to the seat.

And because at least half of this situation is amplified into ridiculous degrees by the panic, we know it'll be so much better once the lights are out and the ballet's actually on. We've been there SO many times before - we stress with our stomach to the point where, honestly, if it wasn't for the next two days, we would have chalked the whole experience not to a food poisoning, but just our IBS gut. And lo and behold, the lights are out and the ballet's on, and our nervous system finds this so pleasant that for the next hour, we're just....... watching with one eye open at a time because we are actually physically inevitably unstoppably falling asleep in the wake of the adrenaline shakes stopping.

It's fucking ridiculous. It's so fucking ridiculous.

One break later, we actually manage to stay awake properly, and enjoy the show. Another break later, the last bit of the show is stellar, nothing to complain about. We're feeling perky and excited again by the time it's over, and have a decent time returning to the hotel after the show, though we take the Tube, because.......... no thanks to another walk back at 11:30pm.

At the hotel, we continue to experience food poisoning. And oh boy how. Oh boy how! The night is spent shaking violently and then drenched with sweat back to back with what I assume are flash-fevers. I can't tell. We are not coherent. Waking up in the morning to dehydration so bad our pulse is like 140, and figure, hey, instead of going to Drury Lane for a tour and then on one last tour of the city with all the places you wanted to see, guess what we're doing today? Waiting in a hospital to get assessed for sepsis or someshit.

Nope. Our mum gives us some magic pills and two hours later, we're able to move again. Spend the day doing exactly and precisely everything we planned and wanted to do, we're out the whole day, I can't remember how much we walked but it's another decent 14-15k steps or so. Dinner consists of a sandwich and a tiny bag of crisps to return at least a hint of minerals and nutrients into the body. If anybody's keeping track, it's been like two weeks not eating a single actual meal at this point. And as a fun throwback to the ballet? It had a lot of kids in the audience, and every single one of the kids was recovering from a cold with a cough. This will be relevant later.

Next morning, getting in on our train to the airport to fly out. This goes great. At Gatwick airport, we determine that even drinking one mouthful of a protein shake makes us so nauseous we become such a bitch of a person that it's just better if we don't, and focus on getting home. Our mum continues feeding us magic pills, and over the flight, we actually manage to drink the rest of the drink.

In Helsinki, we grab two more bottles of protein shake, since this seems to be a safe food, but have very firmly decided against going to our planned Halloween party, and instead head home to rest.

What a decision. A decision for a lifetime, in retrospect. It's Friday.

On Saturday, we eat like kings. I can't remember what that meant exactly but it involved calories and nutrients. On Sunday, we continue to flourish, except that we're developing this dry cough with an itch like, real deep in the chest/lungs.

Oh boy! Oh boy, oh boy.

On Monday, we have a sore throat and a fever of 37,6 degrees Celsius.

On Tuesday, we have a sore throat and a hacking, wheezy cough and a fever of 38,6 degrees Celsius.

It is now Tuesday again. I have given up all hope of ever recovering from this fucking bronchitis. It is what you get when you do ALL OF THAT, WITHOUT EATING OR SLEEPING, IN A FOREIGN COUNTRY, LIKE A FUCKING NOODLE-BRAINED MORON. If gods are with me tonight I will brave the outside again and go get a COVID test just to see how worried I need to be, but I assume this is "just" the worst bronchitis ever, because it matches the symptoms of bronchitis to the T. Google tells me, helpfully, it can take up to three weeks to recover from a bronchitis - more if you picked it up "abroads", but I think London doesn't count as "abroads" for the purposes it's selling, or maybe it does, but I'm not going to a hospital for this even if it's malaria so fuck off with that.

It has been eight days. Eight days with a wheezing cough and feeling like my brain is made of infection juice. The US elections are a fucking mirage, a horrible nightmare entered into my feverish subconsciousness. It has been 12 days since we got back from England and I feel like it's been maybe a day or two, because the rest of the fucking time, we've been sick as dying dogs and oh dear god what the fuck what the hell.

LESSON FOR THE KIDS IN THE BACK: DON'T GO TO A FUCKING BALLET IF YOU HAVE AN INFECTIOUS DISEASE. IDIOTS WHO HAVEN'T SLEPT OR EATEN FOR A WEEK ARE IN THE AUDIENCE WITH YOU. AT LEAST WEAR A MASK OR SOMESHIT HOLY CHRIST.

Was it worth it? Yes. 100000000000/10 would do it again, literally applied for a job for the first time in our life to be able to do it again before the world ends, hopefully without the food poisoning this time though.

But like. In general. At this point. I'm not sure we'll survive long enough to find out whether we get the job or not, much less to do the job, get paid, and fly out again.

This is the most miserable illness we've ever had and we've had COVID before. It's the fucking wheezing. You don't ever think about your lung pipes before they're swollen to the size of shitty clogged straws. It is awful. Everything is awful. I fucking hate tea and there's no more hot chocolate and we're out of milk so no coffee either. I despise the taste of honey. Full offense to everybody who isn't sick and can choose when and what they're drinking, everything is shit and I hate it.

PS. Oh yeah and a shout-out to our boy Grim-All-Day, who had this firm belief that nothing good ever happens without it being followed by something that is either just as bad or worse. It's true. If we'd never gone to London, Harris would have probably won the election, and also we wouldn't be dying of fucking consumption or whatever right now either.

[agro-carnist]

i appreciate the answer but you still didn't answer my question, being if you'd want someone who fantasizes about kids to work around children... i do not inherently believe people with certain fetishes are evil but i think the best course of action is not to repeatedly indulge in it i.e. the glitchedpuppet example. and not just them, but others like zaush or jasonafex, who both drew (and in some occassions even traced over pictures of) children in sexual situations and were later outed as grooming children. I bring that up not to insult you but to try and emphasize that they also started out as fiction-only and later moved on to the real thing... i think its simply irresponsible to claim fiction is harmless when it can have an actual impact on the way your brain normalizes things, like mortal kombat developers actually getting PTSD from being forced to watch gore videos in order to make the gore in-game as realistic as possible. Repeatedly exposing yourself to large amounts of simulated CP/abuse, zoophilia, etc can really fuck up your longterm perceptions and even if you think you would never cross the line that doesn't mean the others consuming your publicly posted works might not have that resolve and act out their fantasies on real life animals or children ... once again i emphasize i don't want this to come across as an attack and i dont condone harassment of you but people have a right to be concerned, esp those like me who were shown content like this at a young age, specifically a lot of zoophilic art, and got really fucked up by it. I do want to apologize for no links as tumblr hates them in asks, but you can look up these claims and they are verifiable

I get what you're saying but I'm just not convinced that nsfw art is at all the culprit for why those people did bad things. Like, look, porn isn't going to wave away your convictions. These people just didn't have moral standing to begin with. Whether or not porn existed they'd have hurt people. They're shitty people that also happen to draw nsfw. People use all sorts of things to hurt. If someone makes and sells knives anybody could buy one and hurt someone with it. I make sure to make my space one that rewards morality and is hostile to people with bad intentions. The kink community, at least the part I've become a part of, is full of literally the kindest and most safety oriented people there are. They're very focused on consent, mental well being, and social progress. I can't police everyone that engages with my work, there will always be bad people that slither their way in, but that's true for literally anything.

As for your question, if someone is fantasizing about real kids, then no I don't think they should work with children. If they fantasize about fictional kids, that gets into a big gray area. There are several other factors to consider when calculating if someone is high risk, and I dont think we as just some shmucks on the internet are qualified to decide that. I don't think these are things that can be summed up in one blanket statement of if they're dangerous or not. That's something for professionals to work on. I'm just not qualified to say if this one trait should be a qualifier for pathology

[samantha-and-her-chaotic-desires]

Okay, so, like I said, I've taken inspiration from various sources and just kinda mashed it together into its own thing.

No, they don't sparkle. Putting that up front, they dont. I don't know why Twilight did that, but no.

Vampires are very rare in this au. To put it in perspective, if you were to somehow successfully round up all the vampires living in a single US state, you'd maybe have two or three vampires. MAYBE five, depending on the state, and even that's uncommon.

Of the small number of vampires to exist, maybe 0.5% of them would be born vampires. Almost 99.9% of the time, if you do meet a vampire, they're going to be a bitten vampire (ei someone turned into a vampire)

Bitten vampires are mostly the only ones that turn people into vampires. Born vampires rarely do because they tend to view bitten vampires as lesser or insignificant to them due to them not having pure vampire bloodlines.

Turning someone into a vampire is INCREDIBLY dangerous and painful due to the process. A vampire can't simply bite someone to turn them into another vampire. They need to drain their victim of nearly all their blood, only leaving a small amount. The vampires saliva them bonds with the remaining red blood cell's, multiplying within the victim to turn them into a vampire. Part of the reason this is so dangerous is because Vampires instinctually want to drink all their victims' blood, so they actively have to fight against themselves in order to leave enough blood for the transformation to take place. They also have to judge how much blood their leaving. Too much, and the white blood cells might attack the vampire saliva, preventing the transformation and killing the host. Too little, and the victim dies of blood loss before the transformation can even begin.

Even if the transformation begins, the vampire still has to look after their victim, not only to ensure their weakened body doesn't get an infection or die of other causes, but also to teach them how to hunt and survive. If the vampire chooses to leave, the victims' chances of survival are very slim unless another vampire steps in, or victim end up being incredibly luck and survives despite the odds (this is what happens in Wicks case)

Vampires tend to drink blood every day/every other day, but they can only last without blood for about a week. After which, the hunger gets too intense, and they go into what's known as blood lust. However, this can temporarily be avoided by numbing the hunger, which can be done by consuming alcohol or taking drugs of some kind.

Blood lust is what occurs when a vampire goes too long without consuming blood. Their vamperic urges get so desperate to satiate their need for blood that they essentially take over, sending the host into a state of animalistic hunger. During a case of blood lust, a vampire becomes extremely violent and unpredictable, often chasing after the first scent of blood they catch. Unlike normal feeding, where they'll simply bite into the aorta and suck the blood out, a vampire taken over by blood lust will instead resort to ripping and tearing at their preys neck, often gouging out chunks in a desperate attempt to get to the blood as fast as possible. After the blood lust wears off, the vampire often remembers nothing of the incident.

Typically, if a vampire goes into blood lust once, the chances of them going into it again are very likely if they don't feed regularly.

Vampires only have a very limited amount of time to consume blood after their prey dies, usually only an hour or so. If they consume it after this time, there is a likely change it will make them suck. Because of this, most vampires prefer to drink immediately after the prey is dead, some even drinking while the prey is still alive.

Vampires can drink both the blood of animals and the blood of people. Most prefer the taste of people blood, but it's very common for vampires to instead consume animal blood to avoid having to harm others.

Although vampires are mostly solitary, they do tend to create very deep emotional bonds, both with other vampires and people. They heavily rely on these bonds for emotional comfort and companionship. Though it is not often seen, it's suspected that a deep enough bond with someone can help bring a vampire out of blood lust or even help to delay the effects of it. These bonds are often romantic but can also be platonic or familial.

Vampires are fanominal at hiding. They are able to blend in perfectly with society to the point that those around them will often go their entire lives without knowing someone close to them is a vampire.

Vampires are not immortal. They have much longer life expectancies than non-vampires, but do not live forever.

Vampires can be killed by regular means, such as being shot or stabbed. However, they are able to heal themselves incredibly quickly due to the contents of their blood. It only takes around 24 hours for them to fully heal from multiple stab or bullet wounds, though this can vary depending on the location of the injury.

I think that's all I have for now? I might come up with more as I write.

Genuinely love the fact this created concept was to contradict the normal vampire ideas. Them not being immortal, not sparkling, and being a tiny part of the population is a nice change of pace. I also like them blending in with their environment, as well as the idea of blood lust.

Anon. You are such a blessing. I love this so much. Scarfing this AU down sdfbgvnvsdfbn

[myatuesday]

Well, I knew it was bound to happen. And trying to diet like a normal person is starting to... turn into something else. Or at least the urge for it to is there. And it's getting really hard to regulate.

I'm crying just typing this because I wish I could ever just do anything like a healthy, normal person without going to extremes.

Even just my skincare adjustments went from adding in a couple things to turning into an obsession, consuming hours of my time and a not so insignificant amounts of my money. It could be worse, but... it's a pattern.

The fine line between wellness and something the polar opposite of wellness, mentally, is a very fine fucking line. And I struggle like fucking Hell walking that line.

And the most fucked up part about the ED shit is... just how it's such an invisible struggle nobody would believe anyway. Not unless they are extremely close to me and pay very close attention. And instead, everyone thinks I'm some fucking hog at a trough, eating my weight in idk fast food and twinkies. When, instead, I'm looking in the mirror and staring at the clock and thinking "oh, fuck I still haven't eaten" and more hours go by and you just keep letting it go. And you know what you're doing but you can't stop doing it. And it feels good and it feels bad all at the same time. But it's also this extremely familiar feeling. And there's something comforting about it. To be in control, to push your body, to... go to extremes to meet a goal. To know this path WILL work, because it always works. And how good it feels. Even when it feels bad. And vice versa. It's like a competition with yourself. It's like a dare. And a secret. And a secret where... you are winning. Because in the end, you'll look great, even if fucking kills you.

So far, I'm doing ok in the end. It's definitely absolutely to the point where I'm having to force myself to eat. And hate it. Ugh. Last night was awful.

But, there's... putting off eating because you're depressed or your ADHD makes you not gaf. And eventually forcing yourself to eat. But that's more about motivation issue. That's whatever. That's just... life with depression and ADHD.

This is... the opposite. It's all about motivation. It is all about focus and control. And it feels totally different. And it's exhilarating and exhausting all at the same time.

Annnd... now that I have Adderall it's...

Fuck me, you know. This is where it all started. And this is what feels... it just feels so good and so bad all at once. And I want it. I want it real bad. To just... let go and let it take over.

I hit some point yesterday where it just felt right. And it felt like I was home again. Home in that deeply disordered side of me, where all this started.

I mean, going from bed rotting for the last year... or decade. To... whatever the fuck this is, again. It feels good. Of course it feels good.

Idk what to do. I'm literally fantasizing about extreme work outs and how many days until my collar bones pop and... how far I can push it and how much I can lose. And all the fucking things.

Sigh.

I didn't even really realize until last night that maybe the skincare thing is getting out of hand.

And then when I finally made myself eat. And sleep. And stop working on this house.

So... I AM still eating. As of now. Maybe less than I should some days. But I'm trying. And I think I'm doing a good job.

It's just this inner voice. This inner guide. This person looking back at me when I look in the mirror. Daring me to do what I ultimately do best, once I'm finally motivated to do anything at all.

Idk what I'm going to do with this yet.

I think it really started once I realized I lost weight.

And when I realized the skincare was actually kindof working.

I'm one of those people who doesn't really become motivated until I see results. And then it's like, oh, well... if I can do that, I can do this. And I can do it harder and faster and better.

This is why I don't diet. Why I can't diet.

Why I stopped. And got fat. And... I was just trying to be healthy and happy (well you know what I mean). Normal. Whatever. And do this the right way. Just live my life.

But then, I gained all that weight last winter. And I just wanted to get healthier. I DO want to get healthier.

And, kindof ironically, when you're this fat, you actually have to lose A LOT of weight before you can even do certain healthy things. And once you lose X amount of weight, doing things to maintain that weight are much easier.

It's just really hard to get from A to B. And extreme behavior is a faster shortcut.

And I just want to get THERE.

And feel like, once I'm there, everything can be normal again. And THEN I can be healthy and do things the healthy way.

Idk. Idk what's normal anymore.

I mean, I saw this post on Facebook earlier this week.

And everyone's doing intermittent fasting

(meanwhile, I'm thinking, we'll I'm always intermittently fasting. Even when I'm not on a diet. ADHD/depression is a pretty quick recipe for inadvertent meal skipping for sure. The only thing that's really changed is the mindset.)

Idk. It just seems we're back in this weight-obsessed era again. Ozempic and fasting and all this bullshit.

Nobody is eating anymore. I'm not fucking special. Why the fuck should I? Or why is there anything unique about me if I don't?

And... is what everyone's saying true? Are we NOT supposed to be eating? Should we only be eating once a day? Or only once every 72 hrs (that's the latest I've been seeing)?

I don't even know the difference between an eating disorder or a health craze or medical revolution anymore.

Idk. Maybe I'll talk to my therapist.

I'm supposed to talk to my new Dr about going on Ozempic in a couple weeks. They're making it into this big, holistic thing. Idk what their angle is going to be yet exactly. But I sure AF can't tell them all this. Or they won't put me on it. And I'm sure the reason they're being so weird about to anyway is because history of ED is in my chart.

But, the thing is, if I can get on Ozempic and it work. Quickly. All this will be over. I can just jump to the healthy and be done. (Not done. But I know what I mean.)

Idk. I can't talk to anybody about this.

SC may eventually notice, depending how it goes. We're supposed to have dinner tonight and I've already been nervous for days about what to eat.

It's whatever. I'll figure it out.

Just noticed this... sort of swelling up the past couple weeks. And really started hitting hard the last couple days.

I just had to say something. I'm sure I'll work it out.

The fact is, I'm still eating. So... thoughts and impulses and... potentially falling into old habits are just that, thus far. I've pushed. But... so far, so good, actually.

So... it's just one day at a time now. (As trite and disgusting as that is to say)

Wtfever. At least I'm taking supplements. But that's a whole other conversation. If I had the money, that would be more out of hand too. I'm taking about 20 as it is. They're working tho. It's not a bad thing. But... that fine line is always creeping in... with everything.

I'll be fine.

[cruorcrave]

8 January 2025

(TL;DR at the end.)

In a very real sense, today was pretty good! I had some left over pizza for breakfast, went for a walk, got some writing done, made a nice stew for dinner, no arguments or tense moments at all really. The Gods' beautiful cold weather made me feel so calm and at peace when I went for my walk. I had more energy than usual because of the weather too. But mentally, man... it has been rough.

tw autovampirism related

When I first started this account, I was really afraid to post anything. I was afraid I'd be laughed at or ignored. I joined a venting/support community and posted a big long rant about how scared I was of what was happening to me. I'd been craving my own blood for a while but had only recently started consuming it and it terrified me. Over the past two and a bit months that's honestly not changed as much as you'd think.

I know more about myself now. I'm still an anxious, severely depressed person that's very lonely, but now I have some good friends on here and a better support system than I had back when I first posted. But to be honest... I'm still scared. I still don't know what is happening to me or why it's happening to me.

I've gone through so many options in my head. Maybe I'm just low on iron? No, I eat a decent amount of raw meat and consume Vitamin C and iron daily and have no other symptoms of iron deficiency. Maybe I'm cursed? Well I've been a real asshole when I was younger but I don't think I've pissed off any faeries or witches, so I doubt that. Maybe I was always this way and it only popped up now? That can't be right, I've always had a fascination with blood but never a desire to consume it, at least not until (comparatively) recently.

So what is it? Clearly it's something psychological, but what? What caused this? How do I stop it? Why is this happening to me? I simply don't understand. I know there's other people out there who consume their own blood but, from an outside perspective at least, it seems like they enjoy it. I don't enjoy it. Fuck, maybe I do but I don't want to admit it? I don't know. I mean the taste of the blood calms me down almost like a depressant or something, like it's literally instant and almost feels like taking a medication, but the panic and guilt and shame and disgust that sets in after I've done it can't be worth it.

I don't know what to do with myself. Today was a good day but the thoughts and cravings have just been so fucking bad. I haven't relapsed but I feel like I might. I don't know. It still scares me. I still feel like I'm becoming something I don't want to be.

I need help. I need serious help for this, but where the fuck do I go? Who the fuck even knows about this? The best I can do is fight the urges and pray this goes away.

I know this is going to sound delusional, but it doesn't feel real. I feel like something is happening within me that's wrong, something inhuman that's just eating away at me from the inside and turning me into something awful. That somehow I'm tricking everyone around me into thinking I'm just a normal human when really I'm something more sinister, and it's going to slowly kill me and replace me. I feel sick. I feel ill. I feel diseased. I just feel wrong. It's such an unsettling feeling that I can't place, I can't put it into words that make sense. It just feels like I'm rotting and the only thing that can save me is blood but yet I keep trying to resist it. I think I'm losing my mind. Luckily no one on the outside can tell yet. I don't think they can, at least. I'm scared that by the time they'll be able to tell, I'll just be a shell; unable to fight back anymore.

Song of the Day: Invincible - Static-X

TL;DR

Today was good in a literal sense but shit mentally. Sort of. Started fine but ended bad. I don't know what's happening. Freaking out a bit. Don't know why this is happening.

Clean since 7 January 2025

[ambient-anemoia]

disintegrate

the blood is filling up the void, thick thick red blood taking up almost the entirety of outer space and how could it not? there's nowhere else for it to go, no drain to pour it down. it sticks to everything and reeks of metal and makes the air hot and humid. the angel's rotting corpse sank to the bottom, a thick mass of black mould you wouldn't even know it was a corpse if i hadn't just told you. it used to have a million hands, i feel them stretch towards me even as the mould consumes the flesh.

thick thick black mould, rot, it smells foul, it settles to the bottom of the ocean and runs through my veins and spills from my eye after i made you gouge it out, the smell made you gag. black liquid ran down my cheek and it got onto your hands and your bedsheets and the knife i forced you to wield. your fingers were trembling i felt it. you want to be him but you will never be him if you can't even hold a knife steady why do you not want to hurt me? i have hurt you an infinite amount of times and yet you still hesitate you are pathetic worthless cowardly stupid useless

you have only existed for seven months. you are trying so hard to be what i need you to be but you are so new to the world, so naive, so vulnerable. and you are so very lonely. that's the one thing we have in common. you yearn to be loved, crave validation and approval and praise and hugs and dates and hands through your hair and all of the things a normal partner might bestow upon you. i rush towards you in a burst of violent fury then fade away, become distant for a few days or weeks thinking intently of him until some reminder of you enters my line of sight like a light suddenly flickering on in a pitch dark room and suddenly all i want is to hurt you again. that moment of connection, that fist against your face, that knife against your throat, is everything to you.

you don't deserve this, any of this, you never deserved it. you said you didn't want my pity but your situation is so pitiable i can't help myself. the cards called me an idiot twice, i should put you out of your misery the way that cat's neck snapped in your fingers but i won't.

[liprairian]

Libby's search here is somewhat misleading; despite hitting "Blake Pierce (author)" in the search, it actually still counts partial matches in your results total. There isn't a way to search by one particular piece of metadata that I can find in the app. Luckily, the Overdrive catalogue itself (this is the one referred to in the article, which is where librarians shop for Overdrive items) has a slightly better system. I assume there'd be riots if they didn't.

Once selected, Author Blake Pierce has 770 books and, interestingly, substantially more than that in audiobooks. That's definitely the oddest part, to my eyes.

I think the article is misleading too, if I'm being honest - the article writer doesn't seem to be super familiar with how or why this would affect library purchasing, and reports on it as a sort of scandal. None of the possibilities the article speculates on are really that big a problem, from the point of view of library purchasers.

The worst effect of floods of AI fake authors on library purchasing would be honestly no more or less than a particularly large bout of spammers would be to one's website contact form. It's annoying, somewhat time-consuming, and indicative of scummy behaviour on the part of the scammers, but it isn't an industry upset, at least where libraries are concerned. The criteria in your standard collection development policies are honestly really good at handling this sort of thing already. The mandate of a public library is so huge and potentially self-contradictory that collection development policies in particular have a really fantastic balance between guidance and flexibility. Selection criteria are reasons to consider an item, not a list of possible failure points as reasons to kick it out the door.

The problem and the solution is this: Even if you were browsing for failure points, there isn't a single thing on that list of selection criteria you can ding an AI-written item for that isn't also perpetrated by a human author and duly represented somewhere in a library collection because somewhere, other criteria outweighed that issue.

So the real question becomes, does an AI-written item stand out on any of the reasons to select it? The "AI-written" part is redundant; it's the same question no matter what. Generally, the only reason an AI-written item is at all likely to be considered when following a normal collection development policy is a high amount of patron demand. And at that point, the answer is almost certainly just to buy the damn thing; if it's actually in demand, it's serving some need in the community even if we can't imagine what that could possibly be.

Please read this. It is deeply, DEEPLY freakish.

[Robin, a librarian] received a message from a patron of her library system that there was something wrong with an audiobook they had borrowed. The patron reported that during a quiet part of the audio, there seemed to be a tiny portion of another recording inserted into the silence. It happened more than a few times and the patron also provided a timestamp, because this patron is very awesome. Robin says that this isn’t unusual, and the process is pretty routine:  “It’s usually just a corrupted file transfer or something. And we contact the publisher and let them know, or let OverDrive know, and it gets re-uploaded.” So then what happened?  Robin: “So I went to look up the specific book to see who the publisher was. Mostly because I wanted to know. We would contact OverDrive about the error, and they would fix, or talk to the publisher directly.” Digital files get corrupted often enough, so this isn’t alarming. But then, Robin and her coworkers noticed the name of the narrator: “Scarlett Synthesized Voice.”

And that's just the beginning of it. Who is "author" Blake Pierce, and how do they have more than seven hundred books??

[soopscoop]

life adventures log 8

july 29th, 2024

hello! your're currently supposed to be studying for finals, but you felt bored. as per usual haha.

last log was crazy.. you could tell that you were feeling a little crazy back then. you have a post note after reading all that business.

you have finally come to the conclusion that you are a ridiculously jealous individual. obviously. as if it hit you like a meteor, the realization crashed into you in the shower one day. usually you wouldn't admit to something like that, but dear god its become painfully apparent. this isn't strictly romantic either. i mean sure, you feel jealous of your friends who are getting with the people that you were interested (you were too shy to pursue them) (oop!). but you're also jealous of your friends having closer friends than you yourself are to them. which is CRAZY and something to work on. you're jealous of those who are stronger than you. emotionally and spiritually, that is. you'd love to be an olympian, but like you've fully accepted being a regular human being with an average body. thats alright. BUT you've always yearned to be like others. its only natural, you suppose. as you write this, perhaps you aren't entirely ridiculous in the jealous department. just a normal amount of jealous. its whatever lol

the summer is coming to a close. you've hung out with the people you wished to! albeit, not as much as you would've liked. but isn't that like any summer? you always have time to reinforce the relationships you adore as time goes on. you're excited for the new semester! you hope to see all the people you miss! you're excited for your new classes and most importantly, you're excited to be FINISHED. the end is near, and you're definitely feeling the strain. undergraduate has been a ride and school is certainly not finished yet, but you're one step closer to being a big girl.

you are a woman. you love being a woman and you're totally comfortable in your own skin. you'd love to be that skin to be a little smaller, but that's as usual. the gender crisis is over. everyone wave a flag of surrender! right before this paragraph you were debating on whether to end it with "big boy" or "big girl." an ultimatum has been reached. dont even know if that word is being used right.

you feel indifferent about the future. you can't really see that far ahead. is that bad? to not be able to answer the question "where do you see yourself in 10 years?" i see myself wherever i am. wherever the world brings me. you wish to see the world. you wish to be with your friends. you wish to have money to do these things. you wish to not be consumed by things you don't want to do. you want to be consumed by love. woah. woooaaahh chill who said that! you've been obsessed with cannibalism as a metaphor for love stuff lately. off topic but like what are these posts other than dump whats on your mind lately. you'd love to be consumed. this is a metaphor please dont eat me

you find yourself to be selfish. this plays into the jealousy stuff from earlier. there was this one exercise that you and your friends did where you look in the mirror and tell it what you like/dislike about yourself. yiiikes. was it apathy that you didn't cry as your friends cried? or was it the fact that you didn't believe what they were saying? that they weren't funny or caring enough? was it idolization? was it not knowing anything about them? why wont they come to you? why can't you be as close to them as you want to be? see. always making it about yourself. youre jealous of those who have it all about them. yikes. slippery slope we just went down. next!

uuuhhmmm you love doing art! back to square one, lol. the art account finally hit 1k followers! lets go!

enough of that you finally thought of something to cook with. you're friends that you've only known for a year or two have expressed that. they dont really know you. which is true. you've never spilled your heart to them or ranted to them about anything serious. which feels weird since you feel as if you've worn your heart on your sleeve. but you suppose its only to certain people. is it that nothing happens to you? you have nothing to speak of? no way. you're growing. things are happening. nobody knows you, just of you. they dont know the real you (wolf emoji) (wilted rose emoji) (chain emoji). theres no need to protect your peace any longer. you're an aforementioned Big Girl. you can handle it, or you can learn to handle it. learn to handle things. you learn by experiencing. get to it, 'kay?

you mentioned to your friends that you're in your "self-preservation era." talkin sunscreen, sunglasses, salads (not implemented yet). has it been working? you dont know. let those on the other side of these posts know when you get to log.. 80 or sumn. all thats left is to get skinny! purr!

wow this is a long one. signing off,

past you

song:

love - keyshia cole

[halliescomut]

So...I was talking to my sister about Only Friends, because we both have experience and histories with addicts and alcoholics, and so I'm consistently interested in sort of the internal process of those things. Like I read a lot about it from professionals and also people in recovery, and I just take in a lot of content around it. And while we were talking about Ray I had a realization. And maybe it's something everyone else has already seen/thought/figured out, but it really changed my view of him and his behavior. Ray is an addict, not an alcoholic, and the substance isn't the point, but the escape.

In the beginning we see Ray interacting the most with alcohol, and so from there many were calling him an alcoholic, and this makes sense, especially with the reveal of his mother's story. I bring this up to say, one of the things I've found is that many people who are alcoholics don't progress to other drugs, because other drugs won't create the effect that alcohol does. They can't be used as a substitute. It's why I was so 🧐🧐 about calling Ray an alcoholic because we do see illicit drug use as well. Alcohol is simply the easiest thing for him to access. It's readily available to him, especially since he is above legal drinking age and financially well-off. He also lives in a society where drinking is very normalized, though of course the excess amounts he consumes are not something considered socially acceptable. When it comes to drugs, yes he has the financial means, but their illegality makes them more difficult to obtain.

As we've seen more of his behavior, his story, it becomes clear that both Mew and Sand were/are/have been a way for him to push back that darkness in his mind. I think in a lot of ways Mew's personality and interaction with him was something that soothed a lot of emotional issues, and so he began to think he was in love because this was the first person who did that for him. But Mew wasn't interested in being that personal for Ray, not necessarily because he saw the potential dangers of trying to be that, but simply because a romantic relationship with Ray was unappealing to him. With Sand, I think it happens almost the same as Mew, Ray begins to recognize that somehow being around Sand pushes back that darkness a little bit, maybe even a lot. Sand, being a little more 'worldly' know that Ray is not stable, and so he's resistant for good reason. And we see Ray's privilege show itself in his attempts to pay for Sand's friendship or company. He sees it as no different from purchasing drugs or alcohol, which is precisely what pisses off Sand (rightfully so).

I don't know that there's a real conclusion to this other than recovery or any attempts at it would require a different approach. It is always true that you need to address root causes of addiction in order to give a person the best chance at recovery. But you also have to look at what a person is searching for in their addiction, what emotion are they chasing? What feeling? Because the numbness of alcohol is easily accessed, but is the frenetic energy of an amphetamine preferred to that? And what emotion is it that Sand brings up that overwhelms Ray's mind to the point that he feels addicted to that feeling?

[infam10135]

celebrity inc.

I'm less interested in Ashton Kutcher's digital celebrity and more so in the psychology behind what makes reality TV stars so appealing. Am I allowed to say that? I just don't find it particularly fascinating given how ubiquitous it is now (as acknowledged in the article).

But reality TV? So trashy. Unbelievably gaudy and ridiculously ridiculous. And yet so, so fun to consume.

I don't think the perception of reality TV stars has particularly changed. They're still seen as inferior to "real" movie stars--even big names like the KarJenners are criticized constantly for the petty drama that features on their family show. But people love to watch them anyway. Why?

We talk about parasocial relationships and how fans form them with their favorite celebrities as they become more and more invested in their lives. I think there tends to be this misconception that parasocial relationships only exist in a positive sense, that it only "counts" if it's someone that you're a fan of or that you look up to. But parasocial relationships can also be contentious. Pratt and Montag were paid for doing the most benign, mundane things. The Kardashian name holds a crazy amount of influence despite not having the most savory associations. The general public does not like these people (or at least, they don't fall over them the same way they do Beyoncé or Keanu Reeves), but they have the capability to generate incredible amounts of revenue...because people are invested in them and their drama.

I know this isn't exactly relevant to the point of the reading, but I can't stop thinking about how intriguing it is that all of this comes down to the fact that people are just so nosy. I think about Jennicam and how she was able to monetize her life just by sharing it. People were so invested in what she was doing despite the fact that she wasn't particularly remarkable in any sense--she was just a 19 year old college student doing what 19 year olds did. These reality stars are much of the same: normal, everyday people plucked from their normal, everyday lives and thrown into stardom.

[thepapergirlandthespiegelman]

I realized that summer is almost over, which made me a bit sad. Not that I can complain too much; I mean, I did a fair amount. I went outside. I felt the sun, when it was kind and when it was murderous. I ate ice cream with friends. I went places and did things. I did a lot more than I normally would have, even with my unexpected third concussion.

I think it's just that I didn't notice time passing. I've been really struggling to manage my time lately, which I think has contributed to me feeling like I blinked and the summer is over. I mean, I haven't even had time to start dreading fall! Normally by August 1st I've already begun that process. But this year I just didn't have the time and headspace to even notice.

I get bad seasonal depression in the autumn, so I usually try to spend August mustering strength and resources to deal with that.

It's the vibes of autumn. The air of death. I don't know if I can deal with that this year. The older I get, the more real death seems. Not just my death, either. Sometimes it feels like old grief only gets more bitter with age. More years stolen.

Autumn has this theme of acceptance. Accepting change, accepting death, letting things cool and wither and die. And that's always been so contrary to my nature. There are many things I feel I cannot accept. Even if I can't really change them, I feel the need to somehow resist, to either lie down and refuse to go on, or to thrash about and make trouble. Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Oh God, you're gonna get it. You'll be sorry that you messed with us.

The idea of losing that fire is very scary to me. Of not only failing to resist but of no longer wanting to. Feeling empty, letting myself be dead.

Something about all that I think is why my depression is so bad in the autumn. I find it difficult to feel like myself in the autumn.

Something I've had to learn is that calm is not synonymous with sadness. I've often been confused about that in my life. It's okay to have periods of inactivity.

Still, I really do think it is in my nature to, well, burn. I have to be doing and consuming and blazing. I find it difficult to feel energized and inspired in the autumn. In the spring and summer, the whole world seems to be there to warm me, to stoke my fires to burn even more brightly. In the autumn, it's me who needs to warm the world. A heavy burden for a little flame who's just trying to stay alight herself.

So I've either got to stockpile fuel for the coming months, or find a way to burn what's available.

I think also that autumn and winter are times to be with other people. It's easy to enjoy solitude when the sun is shining and the sky is blue. Or for that matter, when thunderstorms come barreling through, electrifying everything. But when it's cold and dark and quiet, no one wants to be alone.

I've always been a pretty solitary person. Not by preference or choice so much as by habit. And sometimes, that is fine, even fruitful. But it can become toxic in excess, especially in the darker half of the year. I think the time for solitude will soon be past, and the time for company will be here.

And that I can accept.