#my inability to remember time exists when i draw

[look-how-they-massacred-them]

Preliminary Poll

Richard "Dick" Simmons

Submission reason:

I apologize in advance for the amount of autism youre gonna have to read. Red team, the team that Simmons is on, has been the comedic butt of every joke for *years,* while blue team carries most of the plot. In recent seasons, individual members of red team have been given their own development. I won't get into detail about it, but almost every member of red team was given their own lore, motives, character growth, etc. Everyone except Simmons. Every opportunity to give Simmons his own individual depth as a character that didn't ALSO INVOLVE GRIF had been used as a joke. During an episode covering worst fears, Grif faces his own trauma from boot camp training, while his sister watches their childhood home burn down (I'm pretty sure, anyways. Its been a while since ive seen the season and you'd have to pay me to watch it again). When they get to Simmons' worst fear, it's used as a throwaway joke about penises (this part i am sure about. I remember being so mad i had to pause the video and sit there for a second). The writer of those seasons one time shared snippets of script that was cut from final production that supposedly featured an arc where simmons is tortured for information, but then after being asked about it, the same writer revealed that the ""torture"" was actually gonna be a joke about him getting his nails filed. With the series stuck in perpetual limbo due to Rooster Teeth's inability to write RvB well AND their constant scandals (unsurprising, honestly), Simmons has been stuck a boring, depthless character for the last 5 or so years, give or take.

Propaganda:

The writing in the newer seasons has been so tremendously bad that there existed a trend for a good year where the RvB fanbase made memes reacting to fake situations that they WISHED happened instead of what actually happened in the new seasons. I have read fanfiction of potential Simmons backstories since I was 11 (for reference, I'll be 20 in a few days) that are better written than actual official writing for Simmons. Simmons has referenced an abusive home life on more than one occassion (again, mostly used for jokes, but this dates back to the early seasons where everything is a joke for red team) that could easily be used as a backstory for him, but has since been ignored. Which is strange, because Grif's exact same joke comments about a tough home life in the early seasons WERE utilized to further his backstory in the new seasons. Another extremely often under-utilized fact about simmons is that he's a CYBORG he has CYBORG BODY PARTS and they are NEVER REFERENCED. NEVER UTILIZED. I HAVE MET PEOPLE THAT FORGOT HE WAS EVEN A CYBORG AND ASKED ME WHY I WAS DRAWING HIM LIKE THAT IN MY VIDEOS. Also, I don't really like throwing around the word queer-baiting, especially when it comes to fandom spaces, so this is more like... queer-teasing??? But Rooster Teeth loves playing along with their fanbase with Grif and Simmons potentially being a couple (social media posts putting them into couples posts, using them for valentines cards, having the characters use the ship name to address themselves in spin-off non-canon episodes), but then tiptoe around the idea of actually making them a couple in any of their canon media. Like it's not slowburn at this point it's been 20 years and we've gotten vague jokes about fucking in a broom closet and beating someone up for asking them to kiss. Im so tired of the will-they-wont-they i dont even want them canon anymore i just want to know if theyre actually gonna do it or not for the love of god. Tldr rvb writers love using simmons as the ""haha nerd thinks hes smart but hes actually stupid and embarrassing"" trope and keep only writing him like that despite every other character around him getting developed, and with the series in limbo he's now stuck like that. Free my boy, Rooster Teeth. Let me write him I promise I'll do a good job.

#look how they massacred them poll #look how they massacred my boy #richard simmons #simmons rvb #rvb #rvb simmons #red vs blue

[infinitelycomplexpuzzles]

Let's Talk Vampires!

// So as I revisit Vampire the Masquerade, I've found myself somewhat dissatisfied with modern vampire lore? Not in the sense of like, it being bad, but more that it doesn't really feel right to me?

Like when things like Dracula and Nosferatu were being made, the primary trait vampires were known for was unholiness. Basically, all the stuff about crosses and god and the sun come from that. And it's also why Nosferatu is so ugly and why Dracula's depiction in the novel is more akin to a slasher villain in a lot of ways.

But the modern take is more that vampires are impossibly beautiful and that they are all tragic souls who spend all their time angst-ing. And I mean, that is a take, but it often feels to me like it exists to sell books to pre-teens. Now don't get me wrong, I've got respect for Rice and her series about gay vampires who spend their time being toxic and kind to each other in equal measure but it's always felt kinda... incomplete to me? In the sense that they walk up to the line of alienation but never seem to go the next step.

So let's talk about my ideas and why I structure them in my head this way.

I like the idea that Vampires are essentially humanity's predators; humanity doesn't naturally have predators the way say, rabbits or deer do. And so they don't particularly have any defenses. But more than that, vampire's can't really just do things openly. There aren't enough of them, and their nature is that of parasite. Remember this, it will be important later.

So we have three concepts that are now intersecting. One, that they're predators, two, that they're parasitic by nature, and three, that they're alienated from humanity and can't naturally relate to them once they become vampires.

Here's my take: Vampires aren't so much animals stalking prey and hunting them; they're venus fly traps who simply draw humans towards them and then use them. And what does that mean in practical terms?

It means that when a human encounters a vampire, even without knowing what they are, they're drawn to them. There's something there that draws them in. There's no rationality there; neither the person nor the vampire have control over this. The human might think of it as love at first sight, the vampire probably doesn't think anything of it at all.

Because if you're the vampire, then your existence is now defined by an inability to ever actually know the real person. You can't be around people, because they'll essentially become thralls to you. They'll throw themselves at you, desperate to please you, because your very existence induces mania and obsession in people without you having to do anything. And that's not always a good thing either! If you're an undead creature, having people suddenly become interested in you at random when you're trying to go about your business is not a good thing! You're suddenly dealing with hangers on and needy weirdos who are seeking you out when you don't even know them.

But think about how impossibly jaded and bitter you'd be. Humans are claiming all kinds of things in your presence: that they love you, that they need you, that they would do anything for you... but none of it is natural. To them it is, but you know that this isn't their own will. You'll never know the real them. In fact, the only way you could is by turning them into a vampire, but then they're likely to hate you because they'll now be aware of what happened.

Meaning that there's no such thing as a genuine love between a vampire and a mortal any more than a wolf can love a rabbit. They're just not the same, and it's not a natural affection.

So what you end up with are vampires who can't understand human society as it changes, because they cannot naturally adapt or invest in people the way humans naturally do. What defines things for people are our connections to each other, and the idea that these connections are genuine. A vampire thus cannot have any genuine connection to anyone living, and so everything is just a thing. A person might be beautiful, they might be interesting, but at the end of the day there's nothing personal or unique about them.

Thus you have situations where a vampire might decide to spend time around artists to create things, or one might decide to play games politically. You might have one who ends up indulging in cruelty, abusing their natural attraction to drag humans into the mud with them. After all, resentment is still something they can feel, and the absence of a real connection makes it very easy to succumb to darker natures.

Again, the idea is that vampires are naturally alien to humans, and over time become more alien to them, as they become entirely unable to understand or connect with anyone naturally. Humans naturally get drawn to them, but they can't truly grasp what a vampire is, and a vampire knows that any attraction isn't real in the sense that it wasn't natural.

So what you're left with is a bleak existence where inhuman parasites exist, but cannot truly live the way humans do. It's an obsidian mirror, a distorted reflection of what it means to be alive, a pantomime of living. They might be able to create the semblance of life or love or living, but it's not real and can't be. And in the end, they become stuck, because there's no way to truly escape this cycle.

#ooc #musings

[mdhwrites]

What Emanator I Think Acheron Is

I'm calling Nihility. This isn't just because of the proof that she's path of Nihility but a lot more based on what little concrete we know about her and how essentially entropy works since that is what Ix is: The Aeon of Nihility. Of Nothingness. Of Entropy.

And the thing about almost all life that succumbs to that the fastest is in fact our memories. That's partially because memory as a concept is not reflective, it is constructive. We have to recreate the details every time we think about something and thus the new version erodes a bit from the truth with each retelling. It can work a couple times but quickly is distorted, much like how Google Translate can do a pretty good job but you run it through a translator seven times and the product is illegible.

And of course, Acheron's memory issues is one of her biggest elements that we know about her so far. Her inability to remember even where she's going or how she got somewhere is a great gag but it also fits how Nihility in this universe is portrayed. Namely that... It's kind of chill.

Ix is explicitly called a peaceful Aeon. It's one of the few things ever stated about them in the game. They were so chill that some Destruction Dorks went "We want to kill an aeon and since Ix doesn't do shit, let's fuck them up!" Aha laughed, helped them out and they were never heard from again because they're idiots.

Speaking of: This should actually be pretty easy for a lot of people to figure out in Star Rail but Aventurine doesn't mention Nihility because of this fact. Aventurine is building a narrative that Acheron is dangerous and inherently evil and musing that her memory issues may be due to the Nihility consuming them as they;'re created doesn't serve his angle so he leaves it out. Instead, he essentially calls out Nihility's opposite: Finality, which is essentially working from the other direction by going from the end of time backwards, at least in theory.

Frankly, having both Nihility and Finality as two aeons in your story, both about the ends of things, is... Rough. Like they could do something with it but as it is now, we kind of have two different gods of nothing and if Finality is the god of death uh... Have you met the Xianshou or the Loufu?

Getting back to the point, there's one other element to this theory of mine for Acheron: Her reaction to Firefly and how it plays into how she didn't seem to want to draw her sword. See, Ix is peaceful because existence to them is meaningless. Everything will eventually die and end, thus joining with them so Ix doesn't have to do anything. However, take this to a kind hearted person and the idea of a life coming to an end in a brutal, immediate fashion is an absolute tragedy. They were going to die anyways so why did they have to die like this?

Now yes, she's a Galaxy Ranger, at least in theory, but even this tracks. People like the Annihilation Gang (btw, you could count Destruction as an off shoot of Nihility as well) are speeding up a process that doesn't need to be. Doing unnecessary harm when their goal will be met regardless. Any evildoer out there is doing such a thing so Acheron actually would live by the opposite of most superheroes. If you pose a threat to even two people's lives with your machinations, it is her obligation for her to murder you so that they may be taken by entropy instead, rather than allow the harm you wish to cause. Honestly, the bigger surprise is that ANY of Duke Inferno's family are still alive since they all wish to commit horrors upon the universe. If Acheron really did steal the invite from them (which would seem incredibly out of character so far and raise questions on how with her lack of planning/follow through skills) then I would assume she'd have just wiped them all out.

But then my brother who is SO hyped for Katarina would be very sad so ups and downs.

But yeah, with all of that said, I'm sticking with my theory. I've been told when I posted this on Hoyolab that supposedly the leaks have something to say on it but I won't say one way or another in case you're like me and try to avoid those. For now, thank you for listening and see you next tale.

======+++++======

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

A Twitter you can follow too

And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.

#hsr #acheron #hsr theory

[spikeinthepunch]

if you told me a few years back i was gonna revive @single-malt-scotch and not drop it in a week and enjoy it genuinely i would have never imagined it. as much as i consume "cringe" content and enjoy things like hot wheels or barbie unironically, there has been a strangely complicated relationship between me and mcyt- for those who have only followed this blog (and even the one i had before this) youd have no idea i was incredibly involved with and enjoyed the old mcyt smp, mindcrack. after my early fandoms in 2010-2012 mindcrack was my thing, for years (the url of that side blog was what i used to have).

no matter how much i try to throw out the disclaimer "if you remember my mcyt days understand i was a teen and im not a weirdo about these people", the reason i even detached further and further over time wasn't purely that i fell out of it (i did, the server started to dwindle) but the.... shame in never wanting to look back at those days came from the automatic association people gained about mcyt over time, and tumblr's rampant witch hunting culture over calling people out for liking "problematic things".

should be said im talking about this shame and callout culture in the context of 2015 tumblr- to now. i was 16 and that stuff was ingrained in my head. it ruined my consumption and joy for media for years. i liked a lot of stuff without problem but i liked them all with intense, fear filled awareness to not unknowingly be ~bad~ but just touching something people could deem problematic. the moment i registered that my behavior as a 13 year old was "bad" bc i wrote mcyt fanfics was the moment i closed off all of that past and decided it was bad, and i was bad, and i could never ever look at it the same way again.

even as i stayed subbed to some of those people out of not wanting to let go of subs i made almost ten years ago- there was no way i was every going back i thought. i looked at mcyt fandom stuff and cringed, and that increased when the distaste of dreamsmp arose-- which ever valid to dislike dream, the wave of cringe culture over dreamsmp and the general concept of mc smps only furthered my shame in the last years. i was told even more in the present now, that mcyt fandom is Bad because its all weird people shipping real people and its strange and youre obviously bad for associating in any form at all. nuance in enjoying gamers on youtube was suddenly lost. even in that period of dsmp getting popular, i couldnt imagine myself getting to this point again, it really was so engrained in me to never consider mcyt a point of joy for myself, when my inability to do so was always tied to shame.

it sounds silly-- but applying this to a broader range of interests? it doesnt matter if im talking about mcyt or something else. it was so hard for me to decide in my head that there was nothing morally egregious about watching people play fucking minecraft on youtube. even if i draw fan art. even if i indulge in the characters they play in a way that isnt strange or crossing their personal boundaries. im not sure what happened to make people decide "mcyt" was a catch all for the Worst of the bad examples for people within such a large community but the moment that happened it made it so hard to feel like i was allowed to like this ever again. i made my existing sideblog in the early summer and i didnt say anything about it. i had it for months and i said nothing. i was so afraid of considering i might have fun, and find joy in this, i wanted to make sure if i destroyed it, it wasnt tied to here and there were no strings attached.

i slid away to enjoy this in peace. and im glad i did in the sense i took away any stressors of just posting straight to my main with little time to decide my feelings. but through the last months i have on and off added it to my pinned post. added it because fuck it, took it down because anxiety. back up, i have nothing to lose.... back down because i saw some post that made me feel bad again.

i am tired of it. the effect of early tumblr culture stress hangs over me even still and it fucking sucks. ive sat here drawing stuff for months on this sideblog unable to tie it to my name for reasons that dont even make sense, out of fear of a reaction from people id never regard or listen to in the first place. that being said im keeping that blog, its on my pinned, im queueing the art to post here whenever i share it, and taking all my old DA art out of storage was a big one to covercome as it uplocked all my old mcyt art to the public again even stuff i felt the most shame for-- by no means was this fandom what it was when i enjoyed it with 30 other people on tumblr 10 years ago... but im finding joy in this again, and my heart swells for every old mutual i see again and im not denying myself that anymore.

#so anyways #this was hard to write actually #i constantly fear someone will pull up old shit or just decide i am bad for #watching a guy play minecraft? legit #fuck this im tired #YES im writing this on thanksigivnh what about ut

[mcrmadness]

I'm currently doing some maths exercises because of my school, and this exercise is all about statistics. I don't know what is it with repetitive numbers or characters (as in letters or numbers), but I find it so so difficult to see them.

For example, this exercise uses Excel and has small numbers (1-5) on two rows and the exercise asks me to count how many times each number exist in that table. And holy shit is that difficult for me to SEE. Like, finding the numbers between each other is so difficult. I actually had to choose all cells with the same numbers and change the colors of those cells just so that I am even able to tell where's what and make the counting easier.

These exercises are also all about median and mode and... fuck, the median one is so difficult because there are so many similar numbers in a row that I just stop being able to see them once there are more than 3. I have to count them by pointing at them with my fingers just to be able to count above 4 numbers.

Which all is... not exactly a bad thing. Like, as long as I get the job done, it's all good, right? But I have just often been wondering this my eyes' inability to count repetitive characters when the amount is more than three. Like, even reading a phone number can be difficult if it has the same digit for more times than just 2-3 times.

I think this is not affecting numbers only, but also the way I see things when I draw. The exact same thing happens when I'm using references and I see only one detail at once but not the others, often leading to me drawing something with proportions far from the reference because I cannot see the forest from the trees. This is why I use the grid technique when I draw photorealistic humans, and even then when I focus on one square of the grid, I only see details and not the whole picture in that square. And then it's always like "wait but there's more stuff to this square than this line, wtf, when???" because I simply did not see anything else there. And I just can't make my eyes see more than that one thing.

Is this what dyslexia feels like? For quite a long time I have been wondering if I could have mild dyslexia but not affecting everything I do. Mostly I have problems with things I mentioned here, memorizing and recalling series or letters or numbers (I always suck at these what comes to foreign languages), reading out loud longer more difficult words (my mother tongue has lots of long words) and sometimes I just can't get the letters in the right order when I try to pronounce words like "addrenaline" or "non-conforming", it actually took me ages to even learn how to write the latter and I still don't know if it's even right. I am not able to pronounce it properly because the n, f and m get mixed every time I try. Sure, English has its own quirks that don't fit my mouth in general, but Finnish also has lots of more difficult words but of which I of course cannot remember a single one right now.

Sure, anything could also be just related to ADHD. Some days I'm so bad at reading cos I'm feeling slightly hyperactive and my brain refuses to read sentences with the words in a correct order and keeps jumping from word to words as it pleases, leading to me not understanding a single thing because the text is literally all over the place. And then some days this does not happen at all. Usually the letters stay in place, at least.

Anyhow, back to these maths exercises now. Only a few left and then I'm done with this course for good.

#mcrmadness' random stuff

[livewireprojects]

Odd TMNT sketches from high school

Been semi getting back into TMNT stuff & thought it'd be funny to show some weird gijinka sketches I posted to DA March 2014.(The year I graduated high school but I was still a big idiot) I say gijinka but by technicality it's the equivalent of turtle kemonomimis(kill me) so if Splinter & the turtles were more human looking.

I also want to warn you that this was during a time I call "I can't draw heights properly in traditional sketch so everyone has "long legs to keep up with correct height syndrome" & I can't do shit." so it makes everyone look really awkward. Also for some reason I added Venus in cause I found out about her & thought it'd be interesting to add her to stuff.(I did not know much about the show she was from at the time just that she existed & was raised elsewhere, I only saw the Power Rangers in space crossover by chance)

The first pic is just the turtles for a height chart, they're in their underwear(very generic underwear) cause I was going to use this sketch as a base for their other outfits. I also planned to give them more outfits but didn't feel like adding them cause I gave them casual outfits & ninja ones.

I want to mention this is 2003 Turtles but I also add in elements from the 2007 TMNT movie(though given everything it wasn't really needed for this past how Raph & Leo react to each other at times)

Don't ask why Donnie is so short, for whatever reason I thought it was funny which isn't helped by my inability to understand height & when I draw characters the head takes up a large amount of the height. I think it's also cause he's my favorite & I thought it made him look cute & I apologize for the cringe.

I'm also starting to realize this was back when I drew a heart in place of the dot on "i" & "j" which I have gotten over. On the other hand I still do a loop on the "y" but it's less awkward.

I think this pic was the biggest reason I chose to post my old sketches.(Judging by the thing I took this pic on it was at my high school)

So for context(that I remember of) at the time I thought it'd be funny if Leo & Raph were twins(or at least close enough in looks/age to be seen as twins) but don't like to be seen as twins due to how they butt heads a lot. Raph's hair is dyed red & his haircut is slightly different from Leo's as an attempt to separate them.

Looking around tags I've learned(at least very recently) that people consider Raph & Donnie in 03 as twins which I think is cute as they're my favorite characters. It semi gave me the idea to show my old art for some reason.

So the idea with this sketch is when Raph first started to change his hair. Leo & Raph got annoyed about the twin stuff, Donnie got dragged into this some how & it ends with Raph asking April for help while hiding at her place until Donnie calms down. Meanwhile Donnie is enjoying coffee & holding Raph's sai hostage.

I might redraw these one day just to show how far I've come & also make an updated version cause I think things have changed over time.

#2003 tmnt #tmnt 2003 #2003 donnie #2003 raph #2003 leo #2003 #my art #old art #i am so sorry

[diary-of-a-recovering-party-girl]

when I see my relatives again, this will all be over [21.10.2023]

The next day, we went to visit the family of my mother. I did some more painting in the morning in a hurry to add another layer that could dry during the day so I could keep progressing. Now I was drawing the faces, the most important parts. The city where this part of my family lives is even more small and calm and green and peaceful. But nothing nowadays can fully cover this sharp pain in my stomach. I started and finished reading a book by Stephen King. Mediocre, but a good distraction. Talking to my relatives, eating cake, hearing my dad and my brother discuss my brother's future, visiting my gransparents' grave and planting new flowers there. The nature is beautiful there. We met for dinner with my cousin and her wife and another aunt of mine. All calm, all meaningless. On the way back from the graveyard, I had the first truly calming thought. I thought about history, how many countries and empires had perished. As painful as it may be, maybe it is just a normal course of human history? Nobody is mourning the end of the Roman Empire anymore. Maybe it just is like that. I don't know if my country will survive all of this, I worry about the future of other countries, but maybe it just happens sometimes. I feel a bit less horrible knowing this is not the first time this has happened and it probably won't be the last time. If this country and it's culture doesn't exist anymore in 50 years, I may have just been a part of human history, a part of the human race to be experienced. Maybe, human cultures are just not meant to be forever. The second a bit calming thought I had when eating cake with my relatives. "When I see my relatives again, probably around christmas, this will all be over". The conflict will not be over, of course. But the media frenzy, the hate on social media, the craze in Berlin, the mountains of police cars. There will be other headlines pushing this out of the general consciousness, there be reality TV and Klimakleber and foreign elections and christmas updates and the newspaper will put it's focus on them again and the words Israel and Palestine will slowly vanish into the back of my brain again, my brain will stop replaying the two videos I saw, I will be able to push away any glimpses of information about this conflict with ease again under the sign "foreign politics I don't know enough about". What if not? What if there will be a real, tangible, ongoing, big war now, even more serious and bloody and disgusting and horrible than this one, another war, another constantly festering wound on the earth, another evidence of human's inherent inability to live in peace. And what if? Will I really be able to push away the videos that I saw, not think about the numbers I keep repeating every day in my brain, look my friends in the face and not feel like I don't know them anymore. Because this didn't happen 80 years ago, this didn't even happen 10 years ago, there is no "the times we're different", this is happening now in 2023, I this brave new, modern world. Will I not take this pain and hurt and dull anger to my grave, will I not sit in my rocking chair and remember how it was 2023 and there was just death, death, death? And, of course: Will I ever want to go to a festival again?

#d7 #diary #political stress #cry #crying #relatives #history #gaza #israel #palestine #sad #weltschmerz #paint #political painting #painting #drawing #vitims #victims of war #war #fear

[s0ngsandstars]

Feeling frustrated about my inability to do practically anything. (a vent post)

I can't shower unless I'm in the right headspace/the proper conditions are met (it's hard to do, I haven't showered in such an embarrassingly long amount of time, I fucking hate myself for it).

I'm terrified of outside, of public spaces, of people. I'm terrified of making phone calls, or emails, or even texts/dms. I can't text my sister without first agonizing over if I'll interrupt anything he's doing for multiple minutes. It can take me hours sometimes to work up the courage to press send on a notification causing message to someone I'm 99% sure won't respond poorly to it, and the entire time I'm so anxious it's causing physical symptoms.

I physically can't do most 'simple' chores, like doing dishes, which makes me very dizzy. Cleaning the cat litter sends me into a dizzy spell that can mean I have to lie down for at least half an hour. Laundry is a task that will wipe me out for a few hours. And even without doing any of those things I don't even have the energy to draw most days.

I barely remember to eat, I'll sometimes go 12+ hours just forgetting food even exists (I just don't feel hunger until it's so bad it's turned my stomach into knots and I'm nauseous). And sometimes, when I do remember I need to eat, the walk from my area to the kitchen is so exhausting that the idea of food becomes awful sounding because I'm so tired. I'll go in with every intention to cook a small meal and come back with nothing except maybe a banana because I just couldn't find the energy to actually make anything.

Not to mention I just. Forget to do things that I can do sometimes because I have ADHD and my ability to remember to do tasks is absolute garbage.

It's frustrating. So fucking frustrating. And this is just the tired, it's not even accounting for the pain. Or for the frequent stumbling and almost falling because my legs don't want to fucking work right even though there's no discernible physical reason.

I want to do things. I want to be helpful. I feel like such a waste of space cause I can't fucking do anything. I can't even take care of myself.

#S Posts #Complaining #Vent #Bad eating habits #just.. a long complaint about being mentally ill and disabled.. #delete later probably

[voiceless-terror]

I mean, I don’t believe in the predictive power of dreams, obviously, but still, it’s a deeply unsettling thing to find. I had Tim look into it, as I don’t entirely trust the others not to have written it as a practical joke and slipped it into the archives. - Episode 11, Dreamer

Jon stares down at the paper in his hands.

He’s had many an unkind thought towards Gertrude, his predecessor, the woman responsible for this mess and the current bane of his existence. She’s been the topic of most of his grumbling as he sorts through piles of nonsense and decaying cardboard boxes. He’s got no love lost for her, but that doesn’t mean he’s happy she’s dead. Or, specifically, to have a statement apparently predicting it through the medium of some prophetic dream. Ridiculous. He wants to feel detached, unaffected, but he can’t help the sickly sense of dread that creeps up his spine and lingers in his throat. 

It was your face and the expression upon it was far more fearful than any I had seen in eight years of wandering this twilight city.

Jon doesn’t know Antonio Blake and has no reason to believe him. But he’s known something’s wrong for a long time now.

He’s never admitted it aloud, never within his assistant’s hearing range, but he can feel it, as foolish as that sounds. This miasma of wrong, of being watched, of becoming...something else, that happens every time he records a statement. Despite the academic detachment he aspires to, he does attempt to empathize with each statement-giver and get into their mindset. But what he’s doing here...it’s different. He can visualize it so perfectly, the terror in their words sticking in his throat and setting his own heart pounding, as if he were the one experiencing it and not just regurgitating it to an ancient recorder. He’s always had an ‘overactive imagination,’ as his grandmother would say, but this is relentless in its manifestation. The fear is real, not imagined. Each statement draws him further and further away from the safety he used to cling to, where the only real cases were few and far between and the most sinister things lurking out there in the world were books and the monsters within them.

And as much as he wants to linger on the false accounts and take comfort in tearing them apart, his hands automatically seek the real ones, the right ones. It’s frightening, the ease with which he finds them nowadays. Perhaps he’s a better archivist than he thinks. 

She died and you’ll be next, something whispers to him. He’s being dramatic, as he’s wont to do, but it feels true. Every statement that doesn’t record correctly, every follow-up he has to qualify with an ‘I would dismiss this, but-’ is starting to add up. His nights have become restless. He often lies awake regretting that he ever took this job, that he left the relative safety of research for a position he’s not sure how to fill, his only reassurance Elias’s occasional emails that he’s ‘moving in the right direction,’ whatever that means.

Jon assumed he’d be more removed from the dangerous aspects of the job that research entailed- following up, going to locations, field work. And it’s true, he has assistants to do that for him now. Dependable, for the most part. And while he should feel safe in his tiny office with nothing but dust and paper and cobwebs (good lord, the cobwebs) he feels more unsettled and exposed than ever. He once joked he’d die of old age before getting the archives in order. But now a stroke sounds much more pleasant than whatever happened to Gertrude. If it’s true.

Perhaps it’s a joke, he thinks. Planted by one of the others, designed specifically to unsettle him. Well, it worked. 

It wouldn’t be surprising. He’s...not had the best start. The promotion was a surprise, but not wholly unexpected; he knew he’d been on Elias’s radar, though he wasn’t expecting it quite so soon. He’s young and unfortunately, it shows. The way he stutters through department meetings, talking about digitization while the others, all of whom have at least a decade on him, shoot pitying looks. He stays later and later, the desire to show some sort of progress even as he discovers more mess by the day. The permanent scowl that now graces his features becomes his armor as he walks the halls and feels himself becoming the uptight, unlikable curmudgeon everyone believes him to be. The one time I measure up to expectations, he can’t help thinking.

A joke. There’s a comfort in that. At least it’s familiar.

But it didn’t record to the laptop, his traitorous mind supplies. It's a bit sad he would prefer it to be a mundane attempt at bullying rather than a real expression of the supernatural, but he supposes it’s par for the course. There were many nights as a child he wished for the same thing, for that boy to go back to taking his lunch money and the occasional beating or two instead of…still, he dismisses it from his mind. You don’t know there’s a correlation. Follow up. Disprove it. 

He’s interrupted from his musings by a knock on the door and the vague outline of Martin through the frosted glass. “Come in,” he calls, attempting to inject some irritation in his voice to cover up the shakiness. “Did you need something?”

“Ah, I finished my write up for the Herbert case, was wondering if you had anything else for me?”

His hand hovers over the statement on his desk. He opens his mouth but then closes it, thinking better.

“Can you send Tim in, actually?”

______

“Sorry boss, I couldn’t find anything on this Antonio Blake fellow- well, at least with the details he provided, which were next to none. Proper spooky, though.”

Of his assistants, he trusts Tim the most with this sort of thing. 

On a surface level, it wouldn’t make sense to some. Tim can be loud and gregarious: the typical, charming extrovert. But he’s not unkind and he’s a hell of a researcher, especially when something grabs his interest. He digs into statements and doesn’t let go- not unlike Sasha, though he’s a bit better at empathizing and handling things...sensitively. Easily attuned to Jon’s moods, Tim’s always been willing to lend an ear whenever he gets too in his head about cases, helping him talk things through or on several memorable occasions, go down the rabbit hole with him. He’d taken the statement from his hands with an easy smile, though his face grew serious with the nervous look Jon shot him.

And if Tim couldn’t find anything, well. Maybe it was a prank after all.

He sort of wanted it to be true, frightening as the implications were. Because then it would mean this terrible, heavy feeling on his shoulders was real, and not just the byproduct of his own mediocrity. He doesn’t want to be scared, he doesn’t want to be in danger, but at least it would provide a real reason for panic, and not just his own inability to measure up.  He doesn’t want to prove them all right, collapsing under the stress of a job poorly done and so easily crumbling at a stupid, made-up statement, targeted as it may be. 

“A joke, then.” Jon says, rubbing a hand at his temples, trying not to let the hurt seep into his voice. Tim makes a commiserating noise.

“You know how people are, the institute isn’t exactly popular. You remember last Halloween, when-”

“Yes, I don’t need a reminder.” Jon sighs. He’d rather not relive that day, stressful as it was. “But that wasn’t quite what I was thinking.”

Tim stares at him for a moment, uncomprehending. Jon continues, attempting to make his hands busy as he pointlessly shuffles papers.

“It’s rather pointed, isn’t it? I doubt someone off the street would create such a detailed account of the death of an...archivist as opposed to the usual ghostly drivel.”

A look of pity flickers in Tim’s eyes and Jon has to turn away. “I don’t really think anyone here would-”

“Really? You don’t?” Jon lets out a mirthless laugh, rubbing a hand across his face as he stares down at his desk. “I’m not blind. Or deaf.” The derisive snorts if he goes off on ‘needless tangents,’ how Rosie pretends to be busy whenever he approaches Elias’s office, the way his name badge still reads ‘researcher’ after months of asking for a new one. He’s basically become a pariah.

“Jon, did someone say something to you?” The words are carefully chosen and he’s leaning forward now, making as if to stand up and god forbid, do something comforting. It’s not that Jon doesn’t want the comfort; he craves it more than anything. But he’s gone without for so long he doesn’t trust himself not to break at the gentlest of touches. Being on the receiving end of Tim’s protective streak is nothing new, but he shouldn’t need his assistant looking out for him like he’s some sort of helpless infant. 

He snorts derisively instead, covering up the insecurity and hurt with a sardonic, self-effacing smile. The kind he knows Tim hates. “They don’t need to. I’ve walked in on conversations, I’ve seen the way people go quiet, the looks they give me-”

“Hey,” Tim’s voice is low, like he’s dealing with a frightened animal. Jon wonders how he looks, if Tim’s going this soft. “Don’t listen to them, alright? You inherited a mess, we all did- but we’re doing our best, yeah? Study and record, like Elias said.” Jon doesn’t dodge the hand that finally lands on shoulder, and he’ll deny to anyone that he leaned into it. 

“Study and record.” He repeats listlessly, slumping back down into his seat. He’s let himself get too worked up, acting like a child instead of a boss. He’s not sure when he started wearing his heart on his sleeve, but Tim’s always been good at reading him. Though he’d rather people think him an arrogant ass than the seething mess of insecurity he truly is. 

“Atta boy.” The pat to his shoulder is purposefully light, devoid of Tim’s usually friendly force that sends him stumbling forward. “Now get out of here at a normal time, alright? We can grab lunch tomorrow. Just the two of us, if you like.”

Jon makes a noncommittal grunt, though the thought is nice.  He entertains the idea for just a moment, remembering their occasional outings back in research. Tomorrow he’ll make his excuses. He hasn’t been much of a friend as of late, and he’s not sure he deserves the kindness of company.

“And if there’s anyone that needs a stern talking to from me, I-” Tim wags a finger and Jon rolls his eyes, ignoring the pang of warmth the words send through his chest.

“Don’t, please. It’s fine.” It isn’t. “But...thank you, Tim.”

“Course.” A wink and a sloppy salute to lighten the mood, and Jon feels the tension in his posture ease minutely as Tim shuts the door behind him. 

He lets out a breath and reaches for the tape recorder. He’s wasted too much time already.  

Be careful. There is something coming for you and I don’t know what it is, but it is so much worse than anything I can imagine. At the very least, you should look into appointing a successor.

Good luck.

He fights a shiver as the man’s voice leaves him and the last vestiges of that twilight world fade back to his dimly-lit office. In his follow up, he tries to play it off as a joke. A bit of hazing for the new boss. And yet the uneasiness still creeps into his voice, and he ends another tape on a stilted, half-believed note.

If this is genuine…

Jon prays that it isn’t. 

And like most of his prayers, it goes unheard and unanswered.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32165071

reblogs > likes

#tma #the magnus archives #my writing #jonathan sims #tim stoker #season one jon feels #with added tim #in which rye has feelings about jon 'dismissing' statements and thinking it could be a joke and TRUSTING TIM #what else is new #reblogs appreciated <3 #a light bit of #jontim

[fadeintocase]

I remember from years ago when you came out as trans. How long ago was that and how has your transition gone? Both my partner and I love your music, by the way, have a nice day!

Like 5 years ago. I have been on HRT though it has not done a whole lot because of my like inability to gain weight.

I wish I could say more that’s positive and motivating for trans people, but it started to feel inauthentic to present my personal experience with my body in the most inspiring light for other ppl.

I don’t talk about BEING trans a lot, for a lot of reasons?

Biggest thing is the community. I had a rapid succession of experiences with transfem communities I tried to talk to either harassing me or violating my boundaries, or them opening up to me about abusive things they’ve done that were the same as things I went through as a kid. It kind of traumatized me out of presenting as feminine or wanting to relate to or be seen as a trans woman. So I stopped drawing attention to it.

So I’ve been floating in the nonbinary ether for a while now. I relate more to non-binary people of whatever sex, I find we have the most things in common both intuitively and in lived experience.

To be honest, I feel like my gender identity or expression has been the least interesting thing about my life for the past 5 years. I don’t think about it all the time anymore.

I exist, dress how I do, look how I do, act how I do, talk like I do, and I’m just kind of vibing now.

I don’t think there is a solid “destination” for transitioning for everyone. I think we all discover more about ourselves in the process and the end looks different for everyone.

I hope that this answers anything. Glad you like my stuff!

[blossom-hwa]

Stardust - CHANGMIN

So like. This was the first full scenario I wrote for TBZ and I can’t believe I wrote this before actually even STARTING No Air, but whatever! It was cute! I couldn’t help myself but I didn’t want to post this before No Air so that’s why it’s late

Thank you to @deathbykpopboys for helping me put this scenario together! Honestly I don’t think I’d ever write anything without sunny hhhh she’s always so great with ideas <3

Pairing: Changmin x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, a little angst if you squint, teacher!au

Triggers: alcohol, cursing

Word Count: 2.7k

Changmin sometimes thinks you’re a little too perfect to exist.

TBZ Masterlist | No Air | Touching Stars | Breathe, and Live

Friday nights are always fun, for Changmin. Friday’s the last day of the work week and kind of blends into the weekend, and because he’s a schoolteacher, he (sort of) gets the weekend off. Sure, he might be making lesson plans or writing reports or doing other important, not fun things, but he also has his stolen moments for dance or shopping or things that he doesn’t have time to do during the week. He’s free, more or less.

The last Friday night of each month, though, Changmin enjoys the most, when he, Jacob, and Kevin meet up for cheap food and drinks. And as much as Changmin likes to wreak havoc on the lives of his fellow teachers (mostly by scaring the wits out of them with dolphin screams and horror movie masks), he really does enjoy their presence in his life and appreciates them for it.

They haven’t a missed a night so far, not since that time Jacob was out with the flu and Kevin had a family emergency. And even though Changmin’s definitely done and said some stupid (read: really embarrassing) things while under the influence, the pros of each night always end up outweighing the cons. So if Changmin wakes up the next morning with a hangover, well, that’s just a side effect of having some fun.

But sometimes he has thoughts. Thoughts that he’s repressed so well he might not even register them, but that exist nonetheless. And Changmin, sadly, is a truthful drunk. His thoughts come spilling out of his mouth, mostly unfiltered, whenever he’s had enough to drink.

And this week, Changmin has been having thoughts. Thoughts that he isn’t sure he wants to spill.

If he drinks, they’ll flood out. It’s the way Changmin works – he’s had enough experiences with alcohol and his brain that he knows what will happen. As he stares at the soju bottle on the table, he knows that if he drinks, he’ll probably regret it in the morning. Not necessarily because he’ll remember what he says – his memory tends to get a bit spotty even after a round of light drinking – but because Kevin definitely will.

Normally, Changmin would praise God for Kevin's ability to remember drunk things. Coupled with his inability to lie, it makes for so much potent blackmail. Sure, Kevin makes Changmin and Jacob swear not to talk about anything he said under the influence, but Changmin isn't an angel the way Jacob is. If it came down to it, he'd sell Kevin's secrets for a single corn chip and some entertainment.

(Okay, not really. But the point still stands.)

If he complained about this to people, they’d probably just laugh and say something about how Kevin is a precious pure meme, that he’d never sell out Changmin’s deepest thoughts for anything. After several years of working with him, though, Changmin knows better.

(He’ll just say that sometimes, Mr. Kev Kev isn't the happy-go-lucky meme-y little boy that everyone likes to make him out to be.)

So maybe Changmin shouldn't be drinking tonight. There isn’t necessarily a lot on his mind, but he’s been thinking of things that he doesn't want spilled just yet, and drinking will only make that possibility a reality.

Isn’t that what alcohol is for, though? To make those worries disappear, if only for a short while? The soju beckons at Changmin, even more so when Kevin actually opens the bottle. Eventually, he throws caution to the wind and fills his own glass.

It’s a clear night, mostly. A bit cloudy, but no sign of rain, and there’s a pleasant little breeze that feels cool against his cheeks. Sitting at one of the small tables outside of the restaurant, Changmin loses himself in the food and the conversation.

After an hour, Jacob decides he needs to leave because he’s supposed to meet with his family the next day and can’t get too plastered. Kevin calls him a noob while making a face, but Jacob, being the angel he is, just pats him on the head on his way out. Privately, Changmin thinks Kevin is much more of a noob than Jacob, but the alcohol hasn’t addled his mind enough to say that out loud just yet.

At some point, though, the world becomes pleasantly muddy. Changmin can register what’s going on at a distant level and he probably shouldn’t drink too much more, but he takes a last shot anyway, just as Kevin asks a slightly slurred “How’s life with Y/N?”

A stupid smile stretches across Changmin’s lips. “Kevin, oh my God, she’s perfect.” He grins, the breeze cool against his flushed cheeks. "She’s so beautiful, it doesn't make sense that we exist in the same world."

Kevin mutters something that sounds like "whipped" and "so soft."

Changmin is sure that if he were sober, he would've attacked his fellow teacher by now, but his tipsy haze is too pleasant to interrupt. He just wants to keep talking. "Kevin," he whines. "Pay attention."

"Okay." Face flushed, Kevin puts his chin on his fist. "'M listening."

"Y/N’s so beautiful." Dimly, Changmin is aware that he's just repeating himself, but he can't help it. The point needs emphasis. "Kevin, she’s so amazing. So much more amazing than me. So smart. Did you know Y/N knows like ten programming languages?"

Tipsily, Kevin shakes his head. "What... what's a program."

"Computer shit." Changmin plays idly with his shot glass. "Doesn't matter. So smart, so nice, so... lovely, Kevin. Y/N’s good at everything. She cuts fruit for me when I work late and make me go to sleep. She doesn’t know anything about dance and tries to help anyway. She works so hard and never takes anyone’s shit and she always knows when I need time alone or when I need comfort.” His mouth draws down into a slight frown. “She’s like... she’s like..."

Why is it so hard to come up with something to explain you? Your entire existence defies definition. How can he even find something comparable to the way you sparkle in his eyes?

Ignoring Kevin’s gaze trained on him, Changmin slumps over the table, eyes gazing out at the dark night. A few stars manage to glitter past the clouds and the piercing lights of the Seoul skyline.

Stars. Something tugs at the back of Changmin’s brain. Stars. Sparkly.

An image of your smile pops, unbidden, in his mind. Your bright eyes glimmer. Like stars.

Oh.

Stardust.

Yes, stardust.

You're like stardust, warm and gentle and... magical. Magical to the touch.

"She’s like." Changmin hiccups. "She’s like stardust, Kevin. Stardust. Perfect. Warm.”

A tear trickles down Kevin's cheek. Changmin has exactly two seconds to ready himself in his drunken haze before Kevin launches himself at his purple hoodie, loosely grasping at the soft cloth as he fully encases Changmin within his arms. "Ji Changmin," he sobs, muffled, "that is the most adorable thing I've ever heard you say."

Even sober, Changmin doesn't think he'd know what to say in response to that, so he just stays silent. It's not like Kevin would even hear him over the sound of his overemotional crying.

Anyway, Kevin's hug feels nice. Warm. Changmin doesn't think he needs to speak words at the moment, he's too comfortable. It's not the same as being in your arms, but he'll settle for it now. He burrows a little deeper into his friend's hold.

“You little child, you,” Kevin sobs into his shoulder. “You’re so sweet and small and warm, I can’t believe you exist.”

Changmin doesn’t feel like replying. There’s a bubble of something growing in his chest that he can’t entirely decipher right now, and his brain has focused on that. It’s some sort of emotion, he thinks. It doesn’t feel very pleasant.

His head gets pulled out of Kevin’s arms. He whines a little, annoyed by the lack of warmth, but he doesn’t really have the presence of mind to do anything but sit there limply as Kevin starts shaking him back and forth, still wailing about how “adorable his little Ji Changminnie is.”

The bubble keeps growing as Kevin keeps shaking him. It doesn’t feel like vomit – Changmin knows that sensation a bit too well – but it makes him feel a little sick. A little upset. The bubble feels suffocating, cold, but it also burns.

Not vomit. He doesn’t feel nauseous. But still unpleasant.

Kevin goes back to hugging Changmin into his chest, which soothes the bubble a little bit. The soft warmth of Kevin’s sweater smooths the burning and takes away the edge of the cold. But the bubble still stays as Changmin rocks back and forth in his friend’s hold, blankly trying to decipher the stupid emotion growing in his heart.

“There’s a bubble.” The words slip out of his mouth just past Kevin’s ear. “There’s a bubble in my chest.”

“Bubble?” Kevin pulls back slightly, flushed face confused. “What bubble?”

Changmin vaguely gestures at his chest as best he can with Kevin’s arms partially trapping his hands. “Here. Doesn’t feel good.”

Kevin’s eyes squint. “Need to vomit?”

“Nooooo,” Changmin whines. “Kevin, it’s a bubble.” He pauses. “Think it’s an emotion.”

He hears Kevin suck in a breath. “I can’t believe my precious little Scorpio child is finally feeling emotions,” the older boy says in a stage whisper, loud enough for at least the next two tables to hear. Changmin has enough presence of mind to slap him. “Hey!”

“It hurts.” Changmin’s lips pout deeper. “I don’t like it.”

“Aww, no, baby.” Kevin pats his head – a little too hard, but Changmin can deal with that. “Why does it hurt? What emotion is it?”

Changmin racks his brains for the word. It’s not a good feeling, so he tries to eliminate the good words as they pass through his mind. Not pleasant. Definitely not happy. Not calm, either.

Sadness? Maybe that’s part of it, but it’s not specific enough. Anger? Not really.

Fear?

Changmin isn’t scared of many things. He loves horror movies and thinks possessed dolls are cute, and it’s hard for anyone to really startle him. Fear is not an emotion that regularly appears in his repertoire.

But this time…

“I’m scared.” The two words slip out of his mouth, quiet, lonely. “’M scared, Kevin.”

Kevin pulls back again. “Changmin, you’re never scared.”

“I am now.” He purses his lips petulantly.

“Why?”

Unconsciously, the corners of his lips turn down even further into a blank pout. "Sometimes I think Y/N’s gonna leave. Slip through my fingers."

Even tipsy, Changmin can tell there are more tears welling up in Kevin's eyes. "But… you love each other?"

"Y/N’s stardust." Changmin's pout deepens. "Too perfect. She’s gonna realize that, that I'm not... I'm not good enough but she’s too nice to say that so she’ll just slip away." He hiccups again, feeling his cheeks burn with drink, fluttering his fingers loosely to make sure Kevin gets the point. "Like stardust."

Kevin remains silent for one, two, three seconds. Changmin takes that time to drain the last little bit of soju left in his cup.

Then Kevin nearly knocks the cup out of his hand when he literally grabs Changmin and forces him to curl up into his sweater, nose buried in the soft folds of cloth. “You beautiful, pure little child, you,” he coos, patting Changmin’s head (still a little too hard, but Changmin really doesn’t feel the need to deal with it right now). “You small little child. You poor, small child. Y/N is so in love with you, there’s no way she’ll ever leave.”

“Stardust,” Changmin reminds Kevin, words muffled into his sweater.

“Stardust,” Kevin agrees. “But good stardust. Gonna stay with you. Never going to leave.”

Changmin doesn’t remember much of what happens after that. He knows that they eventually pay for everything and Kevin’s partner picks them up (well, they were the one who was supposed to pick the two of them up. He doesn’t actually register the driver’s face, but Changmin hears Kevin calling them “love muffin, better than Beyonce,” so it’s probably them. He refuses to acknowledge any alternatives), but he’s too drunk and too tired to process anything else.

Somehow, he wakes up the next day curled up in his bed, forehead threatening to split from the dull pain. Mentally, he thanks himself for closing the shades before he passed out last night (or was it morning? He isn’t completely sure when he got home) so that the sunlight isn’t adding to his headache.

Get up, Changmin, he tells himself, summoning the strength to swing his legs out of bed. Step by step, he exits his room and slowly brushes his teeth before heading toward the kitchen for a bottle of water or something to get rid of the pounding in his head.

Changmin’s so out of it that he doesn’t register the smell of something cooking wafting out of the kitchen before he’s almost in it. He finally stops, confused, just in time to see your head poke out from the kitchen entrance.

For a second, Changmin just stares at you, brain buffering as he tries to come up with a suitable greeting in his hungover state. There’s this look on your face that Changmin’s muddled mind can’t seem to decipher.

Oh, God.

You look like you’re about to cry. 

He panics. What did he do wrong? Did he say something bad last night? He can’t remember anything – how badly did he screw up, what the hell did he do –

Then you leap at him, much the same way Kevin did last night, and bury your face into his shoulder.

“Ji Changmin,” you say, words muffled into his rumpled shirt, “I love you so much.”

Changmin’s mouth can only come up with a confused “huh?”

You pull back, eyes shining with tears, but mouth stretched into a beautiful, beautiful smile. “Don’t tell me you don’t remember what you told Kevin last night,” you say teasingly, though there’s a hint of uncertainty in your gaze.

Slowly, slowly, the events of last night begin to piece themselves together in Changmin’s brain. Every single stupid word he said to Kevin in his drunken stupor comes flooding back in one massive, jumbled mess.

He blushes.

“Ji Changmin.” You cup his puffy, red cheeks between your hands, voice trembling. “Listen to me. I’m not leaving. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not going to slip through your fingers and, fucking, I don’t know, fly away. Because I am not perfect, I am not stardust, but god, I – you’re perfect for me. You are good enough for me, more than good enough for me. You are perfect, and I’m staying here forever. You’re not going to be able to get rid of me. Understood?”

“But –”

“Understood?”

Changmin stares into your shining eyes. Even with you standing right here, hands cradling his face with the gentlest touch, he can’t quite believe you’re real and not just some beautiful figment of his imagination. Slowly, slowly, one of his hands rises to touch the fingers resting against his cheek. Just to make sure this isn’t a dream.

Solid. Warm.

Not a dream. 

This is real.

He nods dumbly, a stupid smile spreading across his face. “Okay.”

You crush him close again and this time, Changmin’s arms automatically move to wrap around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. He can feel a few tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt as you hold him tight, so tight, and he smiles, one hand coming up to pat your back.

You’re here. You’re here, alive, solid, real. He can feel your warmth against his body, feel your hair tickling his skin.

You may be ethereal. You may be something completely out of this world, beautiful, divine. You may be sparkling, glimmering, brilliant in the morning sunlight. You may be made of stardust, something too perfect (he’ll fight you on that) to exist on earth.

But now, with you wrapped warmly in his arms, Changmin realizes that even though you may be stardust, that doesn’t mean you’re going anywhere.

A tear slips out of his eye as he smiles.

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 cheek pinch for changmin idk why I just think that’d be fun <3)

#tbznetwork #destinyversenet #kpopscape #the boyz #tbz #the boyz scenarios #the boyz imagines #the boyz oneshots #tbz scenarios #the boyz q scenarios #the boyz changmin scenarios #the boyz q #the boyz changmin #tbz q #tbz changmin scenarios #tbz q scenarios #tbz changmin #changmin #ji changmin #the boyz x reader #ji changmin x reader #fluff #slight angst #tw cursing #tw alcohol #teacher!au #breathe and live #touching stars #stardust #scriptura-delirus

[princessofcurses]

[1] Take it.

Part 2 Ryomen Sukuna x Fem!Reader Written from the perspective of Sukuna My first post! I wonder if anyone will read it? It's kind of long. The sexy stuff starts happening about halfway through. This is just one chapter so some things might not make sense. Let me know if you liked it and want more! Preface: A woman sorcerer challenged Sukuna. Her technique was able to nullify his, ending in a draw between the two. Frustrated at his inability to kill her, he decides to “take her” in “another way”. The cocky brat rejects him easily but he’s determined to win her over little by little when she visits him the next day.

She left quickly after our battle. I wanted to chase after her. She hadn’t even told me her name but the way she mocked me riled my soul up. A fire began to burn in my core and soon, I felt it in all of my blood. I was almost unsure if I wanted to kill her or fuck her. I hadn’t met a Jujutsu sorcerer as strong as her before, strong enough to go toe-to-toe with me. And strong enough to resist me. I couldn’t kill her so right now, I wanted nothing more than to fuck her. I can win in other ways. I wanted to earn her affection and make her mine. With her by my side, nothing would be able to stop me.

The next day, she came back to me. I was delighted.

“You thought about it, didn’t you? Did you rethink your stance?”

She replied to me with disgust.

“I’m here to waste your time and keep you from killing.”

I scoffed.

How can I win her over? After my ‘sex with hundreds of women’ comment last time, she obviously wants nothing to do with me. I can’t force her into submission because she neutralizes my techniques and she can use it against me. Should I buy her affection? Maybe gifts would do.

She noticed I was in thought and she used the pause to take a seat at the base of the mountain of skulls. She pulled out a book and began to read. She was bored with me again. She is so fucking infuriating. I wanted so badly to kill her but I couldn’t. So I thought I wanted so badly to ruin her and make her feel so good she submits to me. But she pretended I didn’t exist.

I jumped down from my throne to be closer to her.

“What’s your name?”

Without looking up from her book, she said just her first name.

“Akahime.”

“Oh? So you’re one of the heavenly twins. The red princess.”

“Mhm.”

Her one word replies irritated me. Women have died just getting too close to me and now there was one who not only rejected me but could stop me too. My usual approach wasn’t working so I tried being more direct.

“I want to talk to you.”

She immediately responded.

“I told you I’m not interested.”

“Please.”

She closed her book with both hands and put it down. I felt pitiful almost begging her just to speak with her.

“You’re annoying.”

I winced at her comment.

“What if we talked over dinner?”

“We wouldn’t be able to go anywhere without you being noticed. Plus, you might just try to kill everyone.”

“Then I’ll have one of my servants bring us something. You didn’t bring food, right? You’ll get hungry eventually.”

She put her index finger on her chin and looked up. She had a cute thinking face. If I could hear her thoughts, she probably cursed in her head that she forgot to bring something to eat.

“Okay, fine. I want an omakase from the most expensive sushi restaurant in Japan. I also want a bottle of sake. It better be warm too.”

This little brat. She’s a foot shorter than me but she treats me as if I’m the small one. I sighed in exasperation and I snapped my fingers for a servant to quickly appear. Akahime wondered where they came from.

“You heard her. Fetch. Quickly.”

They scurried out of the lair. I went to take a seat beside her. She looked uncomfortable and moved farther from me once I sat down. I sighed.

“I won’t bite. I just want to talk.”

She turned to me and smiled.

“Let’s talk over dinner!”

Ugh. She’s really cute, even when she’s nicely rejecting me. I was losing my composure. I was so frustrated that she wasn’t giving a single thing. I wanted to get on top of her and show her just why women come to me. But she might just leave altogether.

“Okay, looking forward to it then.”

I made my way back to my throne. I leaned my elbow against the armrest and held my head up with my hand. I wondered, what could I say to make her trust me? It felt like an eternity had passed once the food arrived. The servant laid all of the sushi out. Akahime and I sat on the floor. I poured her some sake and she took the small cup with a smile.

“Thank you, Sukuna!”

She could look so sweet. I was taken aback from it, considering how cocky she had been the entire time. She must really love this restaurant.

“Itadakimasu!”

We clapped our hands and she immediately went for a piece of salmon.

“I love this place! Oh, you ordered the omakase too? Wow, so you have money?”

Her personality completely changed.

“I’ve eaten at this place a couple of times. I like their omakase too. And yes, I have money.”

Maybe gifts were the way to go. I quickly wrote down some items for my servant to get.

She picked up a piece of toro and presented it to me with her other hand.

“This is my favorite.”

She plopped it into her mouth and she closed her eyes and smiled.

“Mmm!”

The way to her heart is through her stomach, I guess. We continued our dinner and I kept refilling her cup. She drank happily, finishing it quickly each time. Blush started to form across her cheeks and nose. We had just finished eating too.

She sighed.

“Ah. I feel like I ate too much.”

Her words slurred a bit and she put her head down on the table.

“I’m going to fall asleep right here.”

I helped her keep her head up.

“No, don’t do that. I got you something.”

My servant entered and set down a futon for her.

“I got you a futon to sleep on. It’s stuffed with goose feathers.”

She looked at me and then the futon with amazement.

“Wow! I have to lay on it right now!”

She finished the rest of the sake in the bottle and crawled over to the futon. I had the perfect view of her ass and I could see the outline of her panties. A chill went through me.

She laid out on the futon and cuddled the pillow, which was stuffed with goose feathers as well.

“Do you like it?”

“Yeah, it’s really comfortable.”

Her smile was so charming and the way she looked up at me with sparkles in her eyes made me want to have her right at this moment.

“I got you something else.”

My servant handed her a white and flowy off-the-shoulder nightgown. She sat up and took it from the servant, who left quickly.

“I’m going to wear it now. Close your eyes.”

I covered my eyes but couldn’t help but peep through the cracks. She had stripped down to her panties and I could see her perky breasts and perfect ass. She clumsily slipped on the dress.

“Okay. I’m done changing.”

I uncovered my eyes and saw her unobstructed in the dress. She looked so dainty and was being so sweet. Was this the same girl I fought with? The same girl that I lost to? I examined her, thinking that she looked so innocent. I hungered for her. The off-the-shoulder part made her look even more enticing. I have good taste.

“It looks good on you.”

“Did you pick this out? I like it.”

“I did.”

We made eye contact for a few seconds and then she abruptly turned her back to me. She sat back down on the futon, swaying a bit from side to side. I thought for a second. Could this be my chance to close in? I didn’t want to respond. I might anger her and she’d tell me to leave her alone. I took a seat close to her instead.

“Did you enjoy the dinner?”

She was all smiles, not a hint of maliciousness or cockiness she had shown me before. My heart ached a little because of it.

“It was delicious and the sake is great! I feel good right now. Thank you, Sukuna.”

She said my name again and a chill ran down my spine. I wanted to make some contact with her. Just my index finger to her face or putting my hand over hers. I fucking hated this. I was doing so much to make her comfortable just so she wouldn’t push me away. Never in my life have I ever had to work for a woman’s affection. It pissed me off to no end. Why couldn’t I just have her already? The dress on her was making me lose my shit. The soft outline of her breasts in it. I didn’t want to take my eyes off of her. I just wanted to devour her.

She gave me a look of disapproval and then put her hands in my face to obstruct my view.

“Stop staring at me like that! I’m not a meal.”

Her hands were so small. I wanted to hold them in mine but instead, I grabbed her wrist. She had a surprised look which slowly sank to annoyance.

“Did you want something?”

Since she didn’t try to break free from my grasp, I kept holding her wrist up. I thought of the right words to say. What could I even say?

“I want you.”

She gently took back her wrist.

“I can’t help you.”

I brushed the hair in her face behind her ear.

“Why?”

A look of innocence took over her facial expression and the blush from the alcohol reddened even more from the blush of her reservations.

“I'm no stranger to foreplay but I want my first time to be with someone who’s also never fucked before.”

The way the crude word escaped her lips while she looked like an angel turned something on in me. I started to get erect and I wanted to let myself lose control. I don’t care what she does to me. I just want to touch her once.

“I have a lot of experience. I’ll figure out how to please you quickly.”

Her look had a hint of sadness.

“I won’t compromise on this.”

God damn it. Why did I have to be such a whore? I can’t even remember anyone I’ve had sex with.

“Can I just touch you then?”

I braced myself for rejection. Her head tilted to the side. I wonder if she was actually thinking about it.

“Sure.”

I was shocked. I wanted to jump her right then and there but I had to control myself. I was being given a little and I was more than happy to take what I could get. She let me choose what position I would touch her in. I had her lay back on my arm and I cradled her like a baby. My hand just touching her soft skin and shoulders made me want to shudder but I needed to keep my cool in front of her. I raised my hand slowly to caress her face. We made eye contact and her glossy stare at me made me want to see what other faces she could make.

Holding her face in my hand, I tilted it and leaned in to kiss her. She didn’t protest. It looked like she was going to keep her eyes open during it, so I kept mine open as well. Our lips met and it felt like the air was knocked out of me. Her lips were so soft and I tasted a bit of her. She’s so sweet. I looked up to ask her.

“How was that?”

“That was nice.”

I kissed her again, taking the pace slow. I put my hand on her back and gradually moved it down. I stopped at her ass to grab it lightly and I think I felt my cock twitch just now. As we shared another kiss, this time I lightly put my tongue in her mouth and brushed against hers. She stayed still at first but then she kissed me back, just the way her tongue moved said to me that she knows what she’s doing. My thoughts corrupted as I thought about my cock in her mouth. I imagined her tongue twirling around my head. I began to drool. Some of it spilled down her chin.

She pushed me up. I gasped a bit being separated from her lips.

“Ugh. You’re getting your drool everywhere.”

“Sorry.”

I wiped it off of my chin and hers. I then leaned back down to press my lips against hers again. I couldn’t get enough of her. She tasted so sweet. I grabbed and squeezed one of her breasts and then I pinched her nipple and rubbed it between my index finger and thumb. She gasped. She was so responsive to my touch. I moved my hand under her dress to play with her exposed nipple and she let out a soft moan. I stopped kissing her to see the look on her face. Her eyes stared back at me with a lusty gaze. I needed more of her right now.

I sat her in front of me with her legs draping over mine. My hand found its way between her thighs. It was so warm and when I rubbed her pussy through her underwear, I felt the wet fabric. I shivered. I kept thinking that I needed to be inside her right now. I swiftly slipped her panties off and lightly teased her opening, coating my fingers in her arousal. She was so wet and it was driving me fucking crazy. I moved up to her clit and began to rub it slowly. Her eyes widened and she let out a sultry moan. Fuck. That’s sexy.

I quickened the pace, making sure to rub every little spot on her clit. Her moans were more frequent and her breathing was heavier. It became hard for her to focus. I pressed the issue by leaning into her and kissing the nape of her neck. She was so warm and aroused. I loved seeing how submissive she became once I started pleasing her. She had little to no protests.

I moved my middle finger down to slowly slide inside of her. She yelped softly and it took everything I had not to take her right now. I wanted to bury my cock deep inside of her but you know she would never let you. I was a bit eager so I put my ring finger into her as well. Her walls were warm and soft and she was already so tight on my fingers. I was about to beg her for her pussy right now. Instead, I started fingering her at a leisurely pace. She clenched around my fingers and I felt her moan down my spine. I whispered in her ear.

“How does that feel?”

I faced her. She looked like she was in a daze. She was struggling to speak. I smirked. I had her exactly where I wanted her.

“What happened, brat? Nothing to say now?”

She tilted her head to look at me with scrutiny and I knew it wasn’t time for that yet.

“I didn’t mean that.”

We continued on and I used my other hand to rub her clit. Her moans were so loud and they provoked me. I pressed in different areas of her pussy looking for the perfect spot. Each time I had touched a new place, she moaned even louder. She was so sensitive and it excited me to no end.

We were face-to-face.

“Look at me.”

She tried to focus but she was too lost in the pleasure I was giving her.

I took my fingers out of her to snap them. We then made eye contact.

“Look. At. Me.”

She nodded and I put my fingers back in her. I was just about there. I pressed on that spot, what do they call it nowadays? I don’t know. Well, it’s the spot that evokes orgasms. I pinned the spot and her eyes widened.

“Sukuna…”

“What is it, princess?”

She gasped and she whined out.

“You’re so good.”

My heart stopped for a moment from her sweet comment. Fuck. What is she fucking doing to me?

I fingered the spot harder and rubbed her clit faster. The way her pussy sucked on my fingers alerted me that she was close. I had to see the look on her face once she cums. Then I would have won one of our little battles. I varied my movement to keep her engaged. I would switch from rubbing her clit up and down to rubbing it in circles. Then I would alternate from softly fingering that sensitive spot to playing with it roughly. The air was drowned in her moans and it was so satisfying to finally get her in my hands. This was the grand finale for her.

We made intense eye contact with each other. She was in ecstasy but she also looked a bit scared. She knew what was about to happen too. I wanted to establish a little bit of dominance right here.

“Say you’re sorry.”

“Huh?”

She didn’t hear me, she was too lost in the feeling.

“Say you’re sorry for being a brat.”

Her head perked up and she was a little confused. She looked a bit nervous and she seemed choked up. I touched her slowly and I gently smiled at her. She was struggling to speak.

“Or do you want me to stop?”

With a worried look on her face, she shook her head.

“Then say it.”

I gave her a cold and stern stare, and tears began to form in her eyes. I picked up the pace in my rhythm again, rubbing her clit agonizingly and fingering her pussy. I wanted to let her know this was just a preview of what I could do to her. I held her right there. I’d push her over the edge as soon as she says it.

“I’m… I’m…”

She stuttered but she was about to spit it out right now. Half a second before her orgasm hits, she bursts into tears and cried out loudly.

“I’M SORRY!”

She wails as her orgasm consumes her. I pulled her close to me and embraced her while she came. It started in her pussy and traveled in waves to the tips of her fingers and toes. She was shaking. She tried to catch her breath and I felt so fucking satisfied. I held her while she cried and whimpered. It must have been overwhelming for her.

I took a hold of her chin and tilted her head to give her a kiss on the lips.

“How was that? Has anyone ever touched you like that?”

She looked down, shy and embarrassed.

“Not like that...”

I gave her another kiss. Her eyes were still teary and I wiped the moisture from her cheeks. I wanted to take it further so badly but she looked exhausted.

“Are you going to bed now?”

I hoped she wouldn’t but she laid out on the futon.

“I think so.”

She yawned and squeezed one of the pillows tightly in her arms. I pet her head once then got up.

“Good night then.”

I walked away wondering if I should contact one of my concubines. I was dying for Aka’s touch but I wouldn’t get it and I desperately needed release. If she found out though, I might ruin the little bit she was giving me. Do I really have to jerk off tonight? Me? The King of Curses?

“Sukuna.”

She sat upright and her head was perked up, watching me leave. I turned to her in surprise.

“Yes?”

She wanted to say something but she was struggling. She looked a bit frustrated but then she shook her head.

“Good night.”

Drive a fucking stake through my heart why don’t you? I walked to my bedroom and laid out on my futon. My erection was poking through my kimono, trying to free itself. I rubbed my erection through my underwear and kimono and I thought of how soft her lips were. I let the garment drop to the floor and slipped my underwear off. I grabbed my cock and groaned, stroking it up and down. I closed my eyes and imagined her crawling over to me in her dainty dress. How she would look up at me with her hungry eyes. The face she would make as she slowly sits on my cock for the first time.

I stroked myself faster, focusing on the head for a bit and then going down the entire shaft. My breathing was heavier and I got closer and closer. I started to think that maybe I should have asked her for a hand or blow job. I knew releasing myself would leave me nowhere near being satisfied. I felt pathetic. I felt like I was stooping so low for some brat but just picturing her smiling at me steeled my resolve. In my thoughts, she asks me to cum inside of her. I think of coating her insides with it, her virgin pussy being filled up for the first time. I groan loudly and blow my load all over my thighs. I then picture her thanking me for fucking her and I breathe deeply, trying to catch my breath. My cock was still upright and unrelenting, aching for more. I knew this wouldn’t be enough. I sighed and went to clean myself up.

MIGRATING TO A NEW BLOG @baji-san

#sukuna smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #sukuna x reader #jjk smut #sukuna #jujutsu kaisen smut #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagine #sukuna imagine #fem!reader #sukuna fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #mine #jujutsu kaisen

[fruitcoops]

Strawberry Blond

Coops fluff Coops fluff Coops fluff!! I highly recommend listening to Strawberry Blond by Mitski, which was the direct inspiration for this fic! This wasn’t based on an ask, but it’s been in the back of my mind for a little while now. Hope you enjoy!

Coops credit goes to @lumosinlove!

“This might be your best idea yet,” Remus mused as they laid next to each other, staring up at the fluffy clouds crossing a robin’s-egg sky. In his periphery, Sirius watched him pick small bits of grass with his free hand. The other of course, was warm in his own.

“Okay, Blondie.”

“Shut up,” Remus laughed, nudging him with his shoulder. “I’m not blond yet.”

“After all this sunshine?” Sirius turned on his side and fluffed the front of his curls over his eyes, making him scrunch his nose up like a cute little bunny. “You are, sweetheart.”

Remus Lupin existed in all shades of tawny gold—tinged with pink on his cheeks and the backs of his arms, deeper across the expanse of his back and chest, and woven with bronze for his soft hair. Sometimes, Sirius woke up in time to watch the sunlight make him glow, and he would count every new color he found.

But after the near-constant summer sunlight due to their broken air conditioning and inability to find a fan that didn’t spontaneously combust, Remus was almost strawberry blond, and it was driving Sirius out of his mind. Remus let his head fall to the side and smiled when they made eye contact, squeezing Sirius’ hand. “Want some water?”

“Don’t get up, I’m comfy.” Sirius stuck his lip out in a pout and Remus snorted, kissing the tip of his nose.

“I’ll be right back, I promise.”

The light breeze rippled through the whole field, save for the pressed-down grass where Remus had laid mere moments before. Their shoes were…somewhere. Sirius hoped they had left them near the picnic basket, but his mind was too muzzy with bliss to make an effort to remember.

Remus’ bare ankles were pale against the rolled-up cuffs of his jeans and Sirius took a second to admire his ass when he bent to get their waterbottles—as Remus’ fiancé, it was his court-appointed right to appreciate the familiar curve. That law was definitely written down in some dusty old book.

“Do we actually need buildings?” Sirius asked as Remus settled back down next to him.

To his credit, Remus didn’t miss a beat. “What?”

“In the grand scheme of things, do we need skyscrapers? They’re kind of useless, and they block all this.” He gestured widely with his free arm and took a sip.

“Huh. I’ve never thought about it that way.” Remus cocked his head to the side and looked out over the beach below, his gaze distant as he watched the point where grass turned into sand and pebbles. “I don’t think so. Concrete is ugly, anyway.”

“Maybe people would be happier if they all had low houses and big backyards.”

“Fuck hockey. Become an architect.” Remus looked over at him with a small smile. “You’d be good at that, actually.”

“Oh?”

“I mean, you’re terrible with paint colors, but shapes—"

“You are so mean to me!” Sirius laughed, bumping him until they both fell over and laid cheek-to-cheek in opposite directions. “Unfortunately, I love it.”

“Yeah, you do. And I love you.” Remus turned his head to kiss Sirius’ cheekbone. This time next year, they would be married—they had an entire life of these moments ahead of them.

“This is everything I need,” he said quietly, watching a cloud shaped like a duck fade into wisps. “Right here. This is it.”

“Pots isn’t here.”

“Hmm.”

“Hattie’s tormenting Reg, who also isn’t here.”

“I have everything I need because no matter where I go, you’re there.”

Remus went still with a soft exhale. “What?”

Sirius shrugged. “We’re apart sometimes, yeah, but you’re always there somewhere. Either I’m wearing your shirt, or your hat, or you left yet another hickey—” Remus laughed at that, and he smiled. “—or I’m thinking about you. That’s what I mean.”

Remus sighed heavily. “Dammit.”

“What?”

“I really have to kiss you, but I’m so comfortable.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Oh, yes I do.” Remus pushed himself onto his elbows, then turned around and threw a thigh over Sirius’ hips, bracketing his face with his forearms. “You’re so beautiful in the sun. What was I saying again?”

Sirius draped his arms over Remus’ shoulders and grinned. “Kiss me stupid, Loops.”

And he did. Not quite lazy—Remus, for all his languid stretching, was never lazy—but steady. Easy. Drawing Sirius close with each press of his lips and stroking the curls just above his ears to smooth them back until Sirius could hardly think straight. Remus had kissed him like that a number of times since they started dating: in the car, in his old apartment, on the kitchen counter while dinner threatened to burn but neither of them could be bothered to check it.

Sirius deepened the kiss as a particular memory rose to the front of his mind. Remus was sitting in the passenger seat of the car with one hand out the window and the other buried in Hattie’s soft fur. She had been smaller the day they drove her home, but still big enough that she oozed over the sides of his legs.

I love her already, Remus had said as he made gentle waves with his palm, riding the wind current of the open road. She’s ours.

Sirius’ chest ached in the best way and he leaned upward a bit, angling his chin to pull Remus’ lower lip between his teeth lightly. I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you. And this is our forever.

Remus pulled back, his eyes still closed as he smiled and took a slow breath. The afternoon sun lit his hair in a halo and Sirius was struck speechless by the sight; he was barely able to fold his hands over Remus’ and press their foreheads together without melting into a puddle. “That’s better.”

“Uh-huh.”

A bumblebee buzzed past them and they both jumped a bit at the sudden noise before bursting out laughing. Remus bit his lip and beamed down at Sirius, placing one more kiss to his forehead before climbing off and grabbing his hands. “Come on!”

“Where are we going?” Sirius asked as they took off running toward the beach, barefoot and sun-warmed and deliriously happy. Remus glanced over his shoulder with a smile; his eyes widened slightly when their feet hit cold, wet sand, but he didn’t slow down until they were ankle-deep in freezing salt water.

Sirius immediately reached into the surf and flung a handful of water at Remus, pulling him close enough to get a direct hit to the chest. “Hey!” Remus yelped, dropping his hand like it burned and flinging his own counterattack at Sirius.

The spray hit him dead in the face and he stumbled backward, nearly falling on his ass in the water as he windmilled for balance. Remus laughed until he was gasping, hands on his knees and making the fatal mistake of taking his eyes off Sirius for a second too long.

The first bit of seaweed stuck to his arm with a satisfying slap; the second missed by a mile as Remus sprinted away, leaving uneven footprints in the sand while Sirius chased him down and tried not to lose any toes to stray barnacles. “Get back here!” he shouted around his smile, feeling the skin of his hands stiffening with salt.

“You’ll have to catch me first!” Remus called, running backward for a few steps until Sirius threw another clump of seaweed that just barely missed his shirt.

They ran and ran and ran until their picnic was out of sight, but Sirius didn’t care. A million moments, he thought. We can have a million moments of this.

#sirius black #remus lupin #sweater weather #hattie #lumosinlove #picnic #strawberry blond #fanfic #my fic

[augustdreams]

Why maladaptive daydreaming (MaDD) should be classified a dissociative disorder

Contents:

Maladaptive daydreaming summary

Dissociative disorders summary

Diagnostic criteria

Conclusion

(~1100 words)

What is MaDD?

Maladaptive daydreaming (stylised as MaDD to avoid confusion between MDD (major depressive disorder)) is a disorder in which a person involuntarily daydreams, or daydreams in a way that harms their life. They do not have the ability to stop whenever they please, which is what makes it different from immersive daydreaming. It is not officially recognised by psychologists/psychiatrists as a diagnosable disorder, however online communities have come together to share their experiences with it and more research is being done each day.

Dissociative disorders:

The types of dissociative disorders formally recognised already are as followed:

Dissociative amnesia

Dissociative identity disorder

Depersonalisation-derealisation disorder

Dissociative fugue

In this "essay", I'll be going into each disorder and relating the diagnoses to maladaptive daydreaming disorder, drawing similarities and discussing differences. Before that, I'd like to explore the broader symptoms of dissociative disorders.

Here is a list of symptoms that are usually looked for when diagnosing an individual (severity will fluctuate):

Feeling disconnected from self

Problems handling emotions

Sudden/unexpected shifts in mood

Depression

Anxiety

Feeling as though the world is distorted/not real

Cognitive problems (e.g. memory, concentration, etc.)

Feeling compelled to behave in a certain way

Identity confusion

How MaDD can be linked to each of these:

When daydreaming, a lot of MaDDers will feel a disconnection from the real world, sometimes zoning out to the point that they no longer register external stimuli. Confusion regarding identity can of course be felt while daydreaming, as some MaDDers have parames, which are usually idealised versions of themselves. Not all MaDDers have these characters, however, instead daydreaming only of original and/or fictional characters. In this case, identity confusion will occur when an individual comes out of their daydreaming, adjusting to the real environment.

Symptoms like depression, anxiety, and inability to handle emotions can come across in two forms when daydreaming. The first is that an individual can be highly empathetic (due to either personality or trauma) and can experience all of their paras' feelings themselves while daydreaming. The second is when daydreams may become intrusive and hard to manage, in which case individuals may imagine highly traumatic or triggering situations that can affect their mood severely and quickly, usually causing anxiety (and even panic attacks) that can last hours.

Feeling as though the world is not real is a very self-explanatory symptom, as it is the basis of the disorder to create an alternative world. The key difference here I'd like to make is that people with MaDD recognise that the world they are in is not real. The reason I am mentioning this symptom is because we experience out paracosms as though they ARE real, feelings our paras' emotions and sometimes having our stories progress without our instruction. Cognitive problems are a HUGE issue with maladaptive daydreaming disorder (hence "maladaptive"). Maladaptive daydreaming can cause executive dysfunction and major concentration problems.

Dissociative amnesia:

Amnesia can be categorised into four forms: localised (an individual will temporarily forget the details of an event), selective (patchy or incomplete information), generalised (an individual will have trouble remembering details of their life), and systematised (very specific memory loss). I've seen posts where users express not being able to remember much of their own lives, in turn allowing their brain to remember more information about their paracosm. This would be categorised as generalised amnesia, though it isn't a universal MaDD experience to my knowledge, as I see it talked about only rarely.

Dissociative identity disorder:

This is a disorder in which two or more altars ("personalities") co-exist within a body. Lack of diagnostic criteria can lead to diagnoses like OSDD, which I won't discuss as I'm trying to keep this simple, but if you're interested in this topic, it's worth looking into! DID involves amnesia when altars aren't situated at the front (or "fronting"), meaning being in control of the body. While individuals with MaDD don't have this fronting experience, there are similar symptoms experienced by both disorders, like having people in our heads who have their own pattern of perceiving, relating to and thinking about themselves in their world; feeling detached from ourselves; sometimes having vivid flashbacks of our paras' pasts (for people with DID, these flashbacks would be memories belonging to other alters or memories that had been hidden by gatekeeper alters), especially trauma, which can induce anxiety; and mood swings brought by our paras' feelings.

Depersonalisation-derealisation disorder:

Of each of these disorders, I think depersonalisation is the most similar to MaDD. Depersonalisation includes feeling detached from one's own life and feelings. People with this disorder typically feel distant and emotionally unconnected to themselves. They can have problems with concentration and memory. They may feel 'spacey' (which definitely relates to MaDD, as our daydreams often feel like an altered state of consciousness), and they can experience time distortion (VERY popular in MaDD) e.g. not recognising how much time has passed, thinking an hour has passed when it's only been ten minutes, etc..

In severe cases, it's said that people with this disorder do not recognise themselves in mirrors. If this is considered severe, then just how bad is MaDD? I have seen people on this platform discuss being surprised seeing their face and not their parame's in mirrors. I've seen others say that they don't register that they are looking into a mirror. It's worrisome, and a reason maladaptive daydreaming should be considered more serious.

Dissociative fugue:

Also known as psychogenic fugue, this is a disorder in which an individual suddenly forgets their identity and creates a new identity and life for themselves. While MaDDers don't forget their original identity, they can temporarily be less conscious of it while daydreaming, and the ability to create new identities and characters comes very easily to us.

Conclusion:

Maladaptive daydreaming is composed of many more symptoms than just daydreaming excessively, and considering how many of these symptoms match up to that of dissociative disorders, it can be theorised that this disorder may just be able to fall into this category. However, not enough researchers are looking into maladaptive daydreaming disorder, with many still debating if it's a disorder at all. My personal judgement is that it could definitely be labeled as such, however I am in no way a professional, and I do not know enough about other's experiences with the disorder to come to a complete conclusion. I think it could be considered a subtype of depersonalisation, but I would love to hear the opinions of others. If you have your own thoughts that you are willing to share, feel free to add them to the comments/reblog.

Sources:

x, x

#madd info #madd #maladaptive daydreaming #maladaptive daydreaming info #actually madd #maladaptive daydreaming disorder #madd information #maladaptive daydreaming information #actuallymadd #madd discussion #psychology #long post

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

i saw your post about Charles and what his personality past and part in the story line so i was wondering if u could do the same for vlad? :)

Ah, well, I can at least let you know what I’ve seen so far? I haven’t delved too far into Vlad, and some of his general impressions can be confusing, so I’ll do my best to make it sensible and unbiased! Here you go lovely <33333

Fair warning, there will be mentions of a lot of JPN app content since Vlad and his boys aren’t around much in the ENG app yet.

My general sense of Vlad is basically discount vampire Sasuke Uchiha.

What I mean by this is to say–according to what I’ve read so far–his clan/family were murdered by vampire hunters in cold blood when he was just a young boy. Presumably as a result of that traumatic event, he harbors a sizable enmity towards humanity and kind of lashes out on them in weirdly specific moments of violence. Another aspect of his motivation is something that’s mentioned within Comte’s route; which is that Vlad went through the timespace door on his own one day and allegedly saw a devastated future, where nothing remains of life on earth more or less.

I guess the reason I find him to be so perplexing is that he speaks about his actions in terms of efficiency, while most of the things he does just feel like unhappy outbursts (v often a product of unresolved trauma symptoms, I’d wager.) I also say this because he appears to have no larger pattern to his fury beyond the original event of his loss. Most of the human beings he attacks aren’t much of a threat to him and hurting them really doesn’t bring him any dividends beyond revenge.

For instance, he insists his disdain for humanity and insistence on controlling them is for the sake of ensuring they do not destroy the future–the horrifying wasteland he witnessed when he traveled through the timespace door. However, I’m not really sure how his current movements really speak to that goal? I mean sure, maybe he’s relying on Faust to create an immortal human so that humans will be forced to care because it will be their future too, but he doesn’t allow Faust to draw his pureblood blood for experimenting. (One can most certainly argue this was more about a lack of trust, and perhaps for plenty reason: Faust is vindictive enough to try to turn the tables and exert control over Vlad, or act on his own whims with his findings.) But if that’s the solution he’s waiting on, turning the rivals of the men in the mansion doesn’t really bring him any closer to that vision either? I mean, what good does it do to bring back Gilles de Rais–a prominent French serial killer? How would unleashing him on the populace help humanity “realize the error of it’s short-sighted and wasteful ways” and move to a brighter future?

Can’t help it, I ask these questions as I read.

In Comte’s main story, Comte hammers home that Vlad is not somebody to be taken lightly. One day when MC goes out to buy flowers, Vlad poses as a human florist to sell them to her–which is how Comte finds out he’s in France, and that he’s made contact with MC. When prompted, Comte describes him in a very particular way; and I think people really overlook this when they talk about their relationship. He says that Vlad is frighteningly pure in terms of the way he thinks and acts. The way I understood his description (given what I’ve seen of Vlad) is that Comte really does mean it point blank: Vlad is very simple in terms of why and how he does things. The issue with this is that nuance and context are lost on Vlad as well–and that’s where the problems start to flood in. Vlad is angry at humanity for what they’ve done to him. Baseline? That’s fair, they killed his damn family. However, Vlad thinks that by extension he has the right to decimate the general public and attack people completely uninvolved in his hurt.

And that isn’t right either–it’s ignoring so many factors here. He’s ignoring how much vampires use and toy with humans as pawns, it’s ignoring the massive power imbalance between him and his victims (this really isn’t a case of self-defense most of the time, nobody but Comte/Leo is a sizable threat to him), and he’s ignoring whether or not a person even did anything to deserve his retributive violence. While murder is never okay, it is perhaps more understandable when we see Jeanne’s frenzied and violent belligerence in response to a man who murders a boy’s mother for the sake of his own amusement/convenience. Vlad literally sees almost every single one of the rivals he created begin to heal/improve and murders them in cold blood because they are no longer of any use to him. That’s uh……..that’s a little messed, not gonna lie to you chief.

While part of me understands the efficiency here–he doesn’t want to leave any traces of his involvement, he doesn’t want any loose ends–it’s also just kind of foolish and cruel ultimately. From my understanding of the narrative, all the people he turned had some visible sign that indicated their origin to Comte. So even if he claims it was for the sake of concealment, it was more likely about his personal convenience. Which…..also yikes.

[Comte clearly does not trust Vlad to be reasonable, and I think there’s plenty of good reason enumerated above, but I actually don’t sense quite so much hatred? I think he’s just given up on the idea of Vlad growing up, even if he doesn’t like giving up on people. And considering Vlad’s behavior, I think it’s overkill to say that Comte just abandons him because he doesn’t care lmao. Even when Comte expresses real anger at the end of his own route, it was more because Vlad was fine with endangering MC’s life just to get back at him. I think Comte’s unhappiness with Vlad has more to do with Vlad’s treatment of human life as meaningless and worthless. It’s fascinating but also kind of sad? Vlad’s traumatic experience results in behavior that is a direct exacerbation of Comte’s trauma, and as such--no matter their potentially fond history--they can’t stomach each other.]

In Comte’s route, Vlad also has Shakespeare abduct MC and take her to the cathedral. Later on in the castle, we see an immediate display of Vlad’s shocking powers: he has the ability to manipulate people’s desires/thoughts. I’m not exactly sure how this works, but he is able to give MC visions of the mansion and Comte coming on to her–which shocks her into realizing it’s all just a dream. It’s not reality; it’s all manufactured by Vlad.

After that...weird introductory note...Vlad gives MC the rundown on his life together with Comte, which as always is subject to a question of bias. My assumption is that he did not lie, only because he was trying to convince MC that he was “right.” Furthermore, he does not omit the most damning evidence of his erroneous judgement, which suggests a continued inability for him to see where he went wrong.

We get a series of three flashbacks. The first is them as young kids. I don’t know if Vlad had already experienced the horrors of his family being destroyed, but this particular flashback focuses on Comte. His parents, in an effort to teach him that vampires and humans have no ability to co-exist, send away all of his teachers/mentors/nannies/the servants--pretty much everyone and anyone he was closely bonded to. Think about it this way: we can see that Comte is very sociable and affectionate by nature. He was living in a house full of people, all of whom cared about him and looked after him in their own way. Now the house is entirely empty. Naturally Comte is very very upset, and Vlad appears to try to cheer him up with little success. 

[When I look back on this scene I don’t think I initially registered the sheer dissonance of Vlad’s reaction, versus Comte’s catatonic misery. There was a very solemn feeling to that memory, and the correct choice in terms of extending comfort is to hold his hand believe it or not. There is a sense that he feels very alone. When young boy Vlad enters one can argue that it was the proper thing to do; he was trying to cheer up his playmate and friend. But at the same time, I think I need to double check. Because I’m beginning to wonder if I was wrong. What if Vlad was happy to see someone as alone as him, and that joy is accordingly dissonant for that reason? He can’t see what Comte needs or how he’s hurting because he’s so glad he isn’t alone anymore in a way.]

The second flashback is the war nurse scene that I have spoken at length about. The important thing to focus on here is Vlad’s surprise that Comte would opt out of turning her out of respect for her wishes. The way Vlad frames the situation is starkly different from Comte’s. Comte sees himself as an outsider, somebody who invaded her life as a result of the timespace door and therefore has no right to suddenly change the course of her fate. He had no idea if she even wanted to live (considering the horrors she’d have to cope with and remember) or leave that time period at all, for that matter (considering the only thing keeping her going was helping the wounded/victims). Comte really was listening to everything she had to say, and he was taking her concerns and motivations seriously. 

Vlad simply says: if you want her, take her. It’s as simple as that for him. And in one way that’s not entirely wrong--assuming Comte would have every intention of looking after her and actually cares a lot about her. But what’s being ignored here is her agency and the fact that they really don’t know each other that well? Something like that could begin and be rocky, if it doesn’t end in complete disaster. Worse, I get the feeling Vlad is perfectly fine with the notion of turning her and if things don’t work out, just kill her or get rid of her. Again, the simplistic thinking comes into play here: it ultimately comes down to Vlad being self-centered. He’s thinking only in terms of satisfying his needs, he doesn’t seem to have any concept of a larger pair or group feeling. There’s an inability to bend/be flexible for the sake of maintaining a greater harmonious feeling. 

[For the record, I don’t think this makes him irredeemable? Only that it makes it very hard to live with him or love him, probably. There’s an inability to live at a joint pace? It’s always answering to what he wants without room for anything else most of the time, which to me is not living and it’s not love ;;;;]

Following their escape back to their own time, Vlad explains how he wants to use the door to turn geniuses and control humanity. He eventually wants to create a surveillance state, which would mean everyone is forced to move with his explicit approval, more or less. (He almost reminds me of Louis XIV, can’t tell if that’s what they were going for.) I have my doubts that his abilities could extend that far, but human history shows us that we are plenty susceptible to fascist and totalitarian rhetoric. In a shocking display of anger, Comte draws the line at controlling humanity and forcing them into a regime in which, and this is Vlad’s description not mine, “we (purebloods) would be like kings.” There’s definitely a concept of evolutionary superiority at play here, which echoes what I mentioned earlier; vampires seem to have this awareness that they’re apex predators in a sense, and enjoy the power that comes with that. Unfortunately, that probably makes for a fairly toxic/uncomfortable larger species culture, which is exactly what Comte and Leo hate lmao.

Vlad does not seem to find any issue with this sort of outlook, and asks MC to decide which of them--Vlad or Comte--is right. Who is more realistic, who best understands the future? As expected the MC replies that it's Comte, and Vlad goes from beseeching to big mad at record speed. He's p much that gif of the teddy bear that smacks its head down on the tables and then has the angry eyebrows.

This is where Comte intervenes, firing a warning shot that grazes Vlad's cheek and demanding he let MC go. In response, Vlad shoves MC into the turbulent timespace door--p much guaranteeing MC's death. (Essentially timespace is a void of sorts, a human being could never survive in that environment for long. Vlad fully knew this, and yeeted her anyway.)

So uh, yeah. Disagreement? Death. Moving on? Death. Nuanced approach to reality? Death. Beginning to think he doesn't really have a lot of patience or open-mindedness or any other kind of problem-solving approach. 

He raises flowers and gardens like a fiend, and he openly plucks any single flower with a blemished leaf. Even if a single petal is slightly damaged, it will be removed and destroyed. So one could argue his extremism reflects a kind of perfectionism as well. No room for errors or troublesome dissent. No ugliness of any kind. I mean in all of his interactions with Faust and Charles this is the overt undertone. Don't ask more of me than I'm willing to give. Behave like good children, mommy's busy. Is that insubordination? boss music begins

One thing I actually don't understand very well is his decision making in Dazai's route. Dazai finds out about what Vlad's doing in a nanosecond when he senses MC is in danger, and yet Vlad makes absolutely no move to eliminate Dazai? He just watches from the shadows. Even when Dazai grills Charles about his loyalty to Vlad, no retribution.

My best guess for this specific situation is that Vlad does derive some level of satisfaction thwarting the future of human beings/former humans. Dazai--being somebody with no great desire to live, no rivals to speak of as far as we can tell, and no larger aspirations--is a life that is easily extinguished. There's no satisfaction in it. When Vlad's clan was murdered and he saw the future decimated, it could be that he felt humans had invaded and eradicated every potentiality that was important to him. Where he might have lived happily with his family, that future was ripped from his grasp. Where he might enjoy his flowers and the creation of an immortal for the rest of conceivable time, that too was ripped from his grasp with a desolate future. 

So much about who Vlad is is about control, so it's very possible his lashing out is an extension of that. Dazai does not awaken any of the disdain he feels, and he does not succeed in overthrowing Vlad's control over Charles, so Vlad simply lurks in silence.

And last but not least, I've seen the preview to Vlad's newest birthday event story. The contents are incredibly revealing, in that MC wishing him a happy birthday and offering him a gift has him saying that it was "the best birthday ever." Granted idk if that’s sweet or just...beyond sad, but here we are. It’s only compounding my curiosity about the wound on his chest--I really do wonder if he was attacked and locked away by vampire hunters or hostile human beings or something. I say that only because that line speaks to a lot of isolation, and given how little he seems to care about turning people/subjecting them to his whims it feels odd. Why the isolation or lack of people who care about him? Is it a perceived lack where his actions alienated all the people who wanted to be close to him, or is it a more involuntary lack?

When she says let’s celebrate again next year, he seems a pleasantly shocked by the notion, and remarks “Ah yes, it’s a promise c:”. The preview was also mega horny: “You make me feel so loved, I don’t think I can be gentle with you tonight. If you enjoy it so much, then I won’t stop. I want to see you completely lost for me. I’ll teach your body what it means to be loved by a pureblood.” Aaaaaand pretty sure the CG was alluding to him licking the good stuff from her basement, though not entirely sure given it was only the preview. 

The brief POV they give us is also very revealing:

“You always keep your promises, and I think I underestimate all the time how much you saved me. You are good, only you are good in this world.”

“Will we continue to make promises to each other in the future? Well in that case--you will always, always be mine, my vampire.”

Tbh he’s...v sweet? In his own way? Honestly he feels like a crabapple that is just so sick of the world and wants softe wife to take comfort in. While granted that’s not really my thing, I know a fanbase appeal exists for these types--so if that’s your thing, have at it!

So now that we have reached the end of my ridiculously long analysis (when am I ever brief, I’m so sorry. If you made it all the way here you deserve a cookie at the very least, if not the right to chase me with a bat) perhaps it’s more clear why I said discount vampire Sasuke Uchiha? “My clan is gone, every other second I’m going to be in retraumatization insanity, when I’m not I’ll be seeking power/hobbies, planning the demise of people who wanted the best for me, building a team to my advantage and unquestioned control, and eventually settling for a lifelong love who sees the best in me despite my more difficult moments and perceived hollowing loneliness. Not the most ideal comparison, but I will say if Vlad was not already named the historical figure, would have pointed and yelled Uchiha.

That’s all from me folks, hopefully this was a fun way to get introduced to him? And again, hope I didn’t alienate--I fully respect what people do and don’t enjoy o7

#asks #ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp meta #ikevamp vlad #ikevamp comte #ikevamp saint germain #ikevamp leonardo #ikevamp faust #ikevamp charles #ikevamp dazai #i hope this was helpful! #i had too much fun writing it jkahlgkjhgdf i love meta #but thank you for submitting <33333 #oh discount vampire sasuke uchiha we really in it now #rambles #not incorrect quotes

[everything-withered]

Seventeen months is a long time.

He tries not to think about it; measuring it won't make the weight of those weeks, days, hours or minutes lighten any less, but it helped to remind himself that time itself still existed, and it passed whether he could keep up with it or not.

My name is Kurosaki Ichigo, it is four-seven-twelve-three o'clock, he recites to his reflection, and between those words, he became: the bed, the shower, the dining room table, the school bell.

He tried not to notice what being diminished from verb to noun felt like lest he grow too attached and like it -- he wasn't suicidal, but sometimes he wondered, and that's scary enough -- even if it would've been easier compared to the dizziness of the world spinning round and round without an axis to keep him steady.

Living, she's often told him with a weary smile and unfathomable blue eyes, is the hardest part, isn't it?

And in the beginning, he hadn't seen that admission for what it was, and scoffed, but now he knows better, doesn't he?

Even back then, she'd always remind him how much older she was than him, how much longer she's been doing this.

And now all he can think about when she says those words is if that means she's been as lonely as him all that time.

And he thinks.

Between the little notes she'd left him before she went away: reminders to watch his footwork, to practice kido, to remember to thank Yuzu more often, to be nicer to Dad, to hang out with Karin more, to loosen up a little.

To how she glared at him through her tears when he'd tried to stop her from her own execution.

He remembers, with a dull ache in his chest how she couldn't even look him in the eye when she faded from his world like the sweetest of mirages.

And thinks the answer is yes.

At the press of a fingertip to his cheek, he grunts in surprise.

Rukia, teasing and scolding at once, says, "I can hear you thinking."

He squeezes his arm around her waist. "You'd be blushing if that were the case."

She snorts, and while she doesn't poke him again, her hand slides easily into his hair, scratching a little at his scalp just the way he likes it.

Approving, he burrows in closer. "I mean it."

With his words against her skin, she shivers, and flicks his ear in reprimand.

"You really cared about me before," he says, hushed; a revelation, a confession.

"I did," she says.

He buries his face against her neck like that'll stop her from being able to tell how warm his cheeks are. But, at least from this distance, he isn't alone. She's just as flushed, just as warmed.

Rukia inhales, squeezes him tighter; always the hand that reaches back when he's flailing for a life line, for someone to see through whatever bullshit veneer he tries to fit on his face.

"I do."

Ichigo exhales, lets himself be held, and holds her in turn as she rebuilds whatever walls had trembled at the admission. He's patient.

They don't talk about this.

Not unless they're dying. Not unless they're preparing to throw themselves on the wire so the other doesn't have to brace for impact. Not unless they're trying to convince themselves of something stupid: like how the other would survive the separation, the loss, again.

They've tested the theory enough times to know what the answer is.

"Was that what you were thinking about -- that I cared about you then?"

He hums no. "I was thinking that I was lonely before you, and that if you were half as lonely as me, you've been that way a lot longer."

She doesn't reply, but the leg around his hip tightens just a little as if to draw him impossibly nearer still. Like she could open herself up and keep him there, a part of her, carrying him with her always.

"It's not a competition."

"No." But seventeen months was a long time, and she's waited so much longer.

He can't imagine it. Doesn't want to.

Not when he's haunted by his own absence, his inability to exist earlier as if that would make her loneliness quieter, her own lackof less obvious.

"I still wasn't there," and that is shame, that is anguish and sadness and desperation, and its those seventeen months in one big rush.

"You're here now," she says, and though its said soft, it rouses his attention, tugs him to straighten just to see her face -- solemn and lovely and heartbreakingly sincere. "We're here together. So stay, stay with me."

And he huffs out a chuckle because what else is there to be now that they're here, now that they're together?

Ichigo-and-Rukia.

Rukia-and-Ichigo.

Conjoined at the soul; they're a beast of too many limbs that ache with the too taut pull of any distance between them.

He's felt it every day they've been apart, and every day he didn't know for sure she was coming back.

He's felt it in reverse when they were together again, and calling it a reunion wasn't enough.

Not for the sense of rightness it created, not for the way it felt like a cosmic sense of justice prevailed.

Not when Rukia's got his breath in her lungs and his heart in her palm; home and safety personified.

When her arms are full of him and him of her, and that's all it takes to make the world slow just enough to make it bearable, to feel like everything will be okay because he's got her and she's got him, and being alone is just the temporary state between together and not.

Seventeen months is a long time, he thinks, for something like this? It's not nearly long enough.

#ichiruki #ficlet #cuddles #seventeen months #it's been a minute