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#structure-process-complex
art-of-mathematics · 2 years
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These duality word ambigrams are "three sides of one and the same"...
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What do these words have in common?
Processes/function/nurture are emergent and shape the structures which they stem from. They are like transformations, stating how the structures interact, like the process of weaving information. In a semantic interpretation they define the axiomatic rules.
Structure/form/nature are like the information web as result of the processes of interweaving. In a semantic interpretation they define axiomatic structures. (Axioms, and combinations of axioms as result of axiomatic rules)
Furthermore, a quote by John Wheeler partially also fits here: (On describing gravity of General Relativity): "Spacetime tells matter how to move, and matter tells spacetime how to curve." - how does it relate to the previous trains of thought?
- spacetime is an emergent structure defining how it will "process itself" via matter. (Matter as "dense and active information clot") (also related to my concept of nodus vacui - the metaphorical "self-knotting void knot")
(Also: an older post I made some months ago about the structure-process-complex idea: (that's a rough simplified frame of concept:)
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rotzaprachim · 1 year
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the vaguely fleabag-inspired awkward jewish dramedy of my dreams au
Well, Jyn may have had a list of methods to ruin her estranged father’s second marriage, but punching her boss’s shmuck of a husband during the rehearsal dinner sure wasn’t one of them.
And neither was shagging the rabbi.
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transmechanicus · 1 year
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Bitch this shit does not fucking goddamn cohere i swear to god!!!!!!!
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hollis-exe · 23 days
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they gotta put some sort of enrichment in my cave man i just spent 3 hours placing cubes
#picked up 76 to round out the end of the season and oh my god base building has me by the brainstem#the worst part i think is that theres no way for me to show a non-player what i do without it losing a degree of its impressiveness#like dgmw objectively my builds look nice and a viewer would be like [wow! that looks great]#but they would lack the necessary knowledge to know why its great beyond the aesthetic sense like.#the insane fuckin exploits i have to pull off in order to make shit look good#for anyone still reading this: my favorite technique for punching up an area is merging and merging;#there's certain terrain features and items in game that#when under specific conditions#allow you to merge two objects together. but it gets more complex: some objects require support.#so you have to sandwich in either a conduit or a floor mat.#but then it gets more complex: even if you merge objects together; the architecture of your structure may prohibit placing it.#so you pull out a flame thrower trap. intentionally break the architecture (only possible across some varieties of wall and floor btw)#at a penalty. and then you place your shit. and then you repair it. and then: most vitally of all: you do not fuck with it.#a misclick can undo hours of work#AND FOR WHAT: BTW: I ENJOY THE PROCESS BUT OBJECTIVELY THERE ARE BETTER WAYS I COULD SPEND MY TIME!!!!!#anyway once i finish this latest build i think ill do a walkthrough of it or smthn to post here. im very happy with it =:]#daily h
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maeamian · 2 years
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BMI is bullshit, you will never catch me defending BMI or its proponents, but calories, and by extension, calorimeters are actually a pretty effective tool for understanding how much energy a human can derive from a piece of food, I know the dismissive tagline is "You'll notice your body is different from a tub of water placed above a burn chamber" but also, in many significant ways it is identical to a burn chamber and a tub of water, at least when it comes to specific processes. Like, I think the way we think about calories isn't great, there is an absolute over-focus on simply counting at the input level, but overcorrecting into 'the Calorie as a unit is entirely meaningless' isn't the way forward either, IMO. It seems like giving up on the idea that we can use things to learn about other things, when, in fact, comparisons to similar but easier to understand systems are how we've gone about understanding basically everything we currently understand about the universe, which is quite a lot.
#Like your body isn't *just* going to use that energy to heat up some water#But also keeping you (a bag of water) warm is a large part of your metabolism's job#And the heating of an object with a known specific heat capacity is a good way to measure the energy involved in a process#And the way your body breaks down food is reasonably similar to the combustion process#Particularly from an energy capture standpoint#Because it is taking the complex hydrocarbons that make up food#And converting them mostly into smaller more stable forms#And using the difference in structural energy of those things as energy for various chemical processes#Energy is very well known to be extremely interchangeable the amount of energy it takes to heat water does not care where it came from#And likewise the energy to heat water can instead be used to make ATP to provide stored energy for chemical processes#Or the various other ways the human body works bless it#Anyhow this is a technical quibble with a post whose general thrust I agree with#Which is why it is its own post#Don't get me wrong I'm also not endorsing any diet or dietician's understanding of Calories and how they work#But the Calorie as a unit is both useful and meaningful in understanding the human metabolism#That's the hill I'm willing to stake out here and there's a large post in circulation with a comment that is in opposition to that#And it is my stance that their heuristics are fundamentally wrong and broken they are using bad reasoning#The exact quote is full of 'in my understanding' and 'just a thought's#And like bro your understanding is sophomoric at best#That is what we do but you didn't stop to ask why we do it or if that actually makes any sense#Literally huge portions of modern thermodynamics are based on the ability of experiments like this to accurately measure energy release#And like IDK maybe you can upend it maybe your understanding is better#But pointing out the basic mechanism without understanding how or why it works isn't going to be what does it
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saewin · 6 months
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It's humbling when you think you're nearly there with integrative work... then you go to another country and have to do all the interactions you thought you'd mastered in another language
Like oh
Oh no
Too many variables again
I am a myriad of learnt responses held together with springs, I'd just curated my home environment so the tensile strength was never tested. UNTIL J'ÉTAIS EN FRANCE 🇫🇷 🇫🇷 🇫🇷
I clocked a trigger/lens switch when the toll road ticket (new concept!) didn't work (surprise fear unknown!) and a car was behind (time pressure!) so I had to press the help button and explain (can't see person! And it's tinny audio! And in French!) and this accumulation was in retrospect outside my tolerance and a trigger for the childlike fragment / lens.
We got through fine as it clearly happens a lot but I worked out I was triggered because:
1) When the ticket process failed and I would have rationally known I needed to press the help button (as I was checking where it was as we pulled up and had imagined pressing it on previous toll booth experiences) all that "practice" evaporated and it took me a good ten secs to realise I had to (re)find and press the button myself and a mysterious adult wasn't going to do it for me
2) Soon after the event I described the woman on the other end as "a nice lady" as she felt very much like A Mothering Adult, even though objectively going off her voice she was likely not much older than me. In retrospect with an adult lens in place I'd actually say she was professional and friendly
3) After I spoke she immediately told me not to worry in both French and English, then explained what she was looking up in French in the same tone one does when talking to a child - the child fragment often elicits this soothing and protective parental reaction from people, that's why it developed/didn't mature and one of the surefire ways I identify it's been running the show
4) The stock French I'd been drilling to mitigate stressful situations when I panic ("Désolé pour mon Français, c'est mauvais") evaporated when triggered and again I had to grope around for it, more so than in the usual anxiety situations I did the drilling for - fragments lose or get reduced access to memories they didn't make (rough pseudoscience explanation)
5) Zero perspective - it felt like the worst thing ever and that we were going to cause an incident involving an authority figure, rather than knowing that it likely happens all the time and that's what the help button is there for (child vs adult view)
6) (SH TW this paragraph) within the space of less than a minute despite hanging out a window with a bank card in hand I'd managed to chew/tear a thumb hangnail and draw blood but had no memory of doing it - my typical childlike premptive self punishment from when the trigger is a negative one
Child lens fell out the main slot a minute or two after because of all the work I've been doing to identify these triggered states, but it does cause a shake up and left me tired and refusing to go out to find dinner because that's where the Suprises live (it's cool we had food in). I'll be ready to go again tomorrow, though.
Riding a fine line with this holiday exposure therapy. Think the car breaking down just before we got on the ferry(!!! Eleven hour wait for what turned out to be a jump...) was a good test that I can handle a surprise crisis when my buttons aren't pushed. Just gotta avoid those buttons.
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futurefind · 9 months
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"Explain Nasuverse mage Rea w.o explaining Nasuverse mage Rea:"
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(Loose translation anyway:
if runes are used as supplemental magecraft like nails or screws, Rea uses them as brick n mortor for entire structure (and it WORKS)
unintentional (if unspoken) speciality in magical circuits construction and, with proper study, magecraft effecting the soul and outright Concepts directly
(FGO Rea absolutely works on an anti-Servant magecraft by targetting the 'thread' that allows that incarnation to have been summoned from the throne in the first place (ie via excising the cause and effect that allows them to have been summoned in the first place, for that summoning)
(Lesser example of this is FGO!Master subverse being incentived to develop 'artificial nerves' Mystic Code for when her Crest bs acts up, ie every rayshift, to mitigate how much it kneecaps her in the field)
she's an American magus that only spent time in Mage's Association for politicking/pawn reasons, and because she's so humble and friendly she has no idea how op any of her bs actually Is. she tries to explain/share it to people and it goes in one ear and out the next
#about // rea#about // rea (nasuverse)#tldr shes a Mad Genius whose ingenuinity is incomparable#combined with her semi functional crest and high quality circuits + her absurd precision = absurd mana efficiency ?#and shes 10/10 walking epitome of 'so fucking glad ur token moral mage fsr'#also she had patents as a TEENAGER and could easily hit Brand sooner than later (if by 'sooner' i mean mid 30s fgo 'reamom' subverse)#(n could def qualify as a Color rank w hcs putting her in yellow)#pettiest 'inventions' include mana batteries that gather mana FROM THE ATMOSPHERE rather than owner#and also electricity free barely anything civilian friendly (buttons!) climate control magical system#......and also how she she sees Mystic Locks as a CHALLENGE rather than a Guarantee n so doubles hers up w bio signatures#(n similarly has a v complex but precise home security system thats both workable for civ mom + wont murder civ theives LOL)#...dont ask abt the structure of her soul (see: crest bs) cuz its lowkey HIGHKEY /extremely/ terrifying + she has no idea ++#she has yet to at all work on processing the involved trauma At All and would def have a Very bad time if u pointed it out#([re opness] *+ her absurdist reaction times INCLUDING high speed reaction n even ADVANCED magecraft w said reaction times?? whistles)#edit: i even made an entire spreadsheet of the elder futhark + how rea uses them#even tho That level of detail is not just unecessary but counterintuive to nasuverses focus/reliance on Mystery#'the important is not the fine print just the How/What and (Broad) Methodology (mostly the former)' me vc: no <3
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The assault on Al-Shifa, though, seems to be motivated by reasons Israel has not explicitly disclosed. It appears that Israel is leveraging this genocidal war, supported fully by the U.S. and Western allies, to expel Palestinians from the Gaza Strip. The current situation in Gaza City and northern Gaza marks the onset of a process of expulsion and uprooting, reminiscent of the 1948 Nakba. To fulfill this objective, Israel is targeting institutions critical to Palestinian life in Gaza City, with Al-Shifa hospital being a prime example. Al-Shifa, a sprawling complex, includes numerous hospitals, clinics, and centers offering essential services to Gazans, especially given the blockade and restricted access to medical treatment abroad. But Al-Shifa is more than a hospital. In times of crisis and conflict, its central location makes it a gathering place for ordinary Gazans and journalists, a venue for press conferences (during this war, Palestinian children held a press conference outside the hospital, pleading for an end to Israel’s bombardment), a site where families receive the remains of loved ones, and a sanctuary where the injured find care. During aggressions on Gaza, Al-Shifa becomes a crucial hub for Palestinians to connect and check on one another. In this war, the hospital, due to its size relative to other structures in Gaza City, has sheltered thousands of displaced Palestinians, either those whose homes were destroyed or who were expelled from their neighborhoods. By seizing and ravaging Al-Shifa, Israel signals the end of life in Gaza City as Palestinians have known it for decades. Removing the hospital from Gaza’s healthcare equation also obscures the extent of casualties and injuries among the hundreds of thousands of Palestinians who remain north of Wadi Ghazza.
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what a week (exuberant, almost dizzy with the percussive thrum of joy running underneath things)
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elodieunderglass · 2 days
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Hi! I was wondering if you could help me out with a word I've forgotten? I'm trying to remember the name for a concept that (I think) talks about how people better understand or process Things once they have vocabulary to describe it - I've heard it talked about in regards to the colour orange, or coercive control, etc.
long story short i've just read a paper saying ancient Greeks and Romans weren't racist bc they had no word for racism and am trying to form an argument against!
(no worries if this is unanswerable, i'm aware its a bit of a long shot but you struck me as a person who Knows Things)
That’s extremely kind and funny of you. i don’t know much but i am ok at synthesis.
I think you might be thinking of the concepts loosely called the “Sapir-Whorf hypothesis”, which describes something called “linguistic determinism.” This idea has been “disproven”, as it is just too reductionist as a concept - people are clearly perfectly capable of having experiences that are tough to describe with words. There will be plenty of papers showing how this reasoning is applied.
but it is still commonly thrown around and still considered a useful teaching framework. That’s why you’ll see it referenced online as if it is fresh, new, and applicable - people learn about it every year in college. Also, elements of the framework are probably perfectly sound. It definitely seems to be the case that language shapes brains; it just doesn’t seem to be the case that humans who don’t have specific words for them can’t experience orange, or the future.
(Many things in college are taught using teaching frameworks that may not be, technically, true; the framework is intended to give a critical structure for interpreting information. Then, when we later find evidence that disproves the hypothesis, that single piece of information doesn’t destroy our expensive college education; what we paid for is the framework. This is mostly frustrating in the sciences, when fresh crops of undergraduate students crash around on social media, grappling with their first exposure to (complex concept) and how it’s DIFFERENT to what they learned BEFORE and their teachers LIED TO EVERYBODY and they’re going to save the world from POP SCIENCE by telling the TRUTH. You’ll notice that these TOTALLY NEW INFORMATION reveals map along the semester schedule. The thing here is that getting new information, or information being different from what you were previously told, does not cancel out the fact that you are getting what you pay for - an education. Learning new facts that change our relationships to hypotheses isn’t a ✨huge betrayal ✨ , but the expected process of academia. Anyway.)
You have an interesting response here, and can start by looking at the ways that Sapir-Whorf has been disproved. There will be loads of literature on that.
However, it would be interesting to look at the argument as an unpicking of the other side’s rather weird, ritualistic superstitious belief that a behavior doesn’t exist if the creatures doing it can’t describe it. It is not on the ancient Greeks and Romans to categorise and interpret their behavior for a modern educated audience. They do not have the wherewithal to do so. They are also fucking dead. We can name the behaviors we see, and describe their impacts, however the hell we like.
Sure, the ancient Greeks used “cancer” to refer to lumpy veiny tumors. We can infer that they still had blood cancer, because their medical texts describe leukaemia and their corpses have evidence of it - they just didn’t know it was cancer. But we do, so we can call it cancer. Just because Homer said “the wine-dark sea” in a flight of girlish whimsy doesn’t mean he was unable to distinguish grape juice from saltwater, which we know, because we can observe that he was an intelligent wordsmith perfectly capable of talking about wine and oceans in other contexts. We are the people who get to stand at our point of history with our words, and name things like “this person probably died of leukaemia” and “poets say things that aren’t necessarily literal” and “this behaviour was racist” and “that’s gay” and “togas kinda slay tho” despite Ancient Greeks having different concepts of cancer, wittiness, prejudice, homosexuality, and slaying than we do today.
Now just to caveat that people do get muddled about the concept of racism. Our understanding of racism from here - this point of history, with these words, probably from the West - is heavily influenced by how we see racism around us today: white supremacy and the construct of “whiteness,” European colonial expansion, transatlantic chattel slavery, orientalism, evangelism, 20th century racial science, and so on. This is the picture of racism that really dominates our current discourse, so people often mistake it for the definition of racism. (Perhaps in a linguistic-deterministic sort of way after all.) As a result, muddled-up people often say things like “I can’t be racist because I’m not a white American who throws slurs at black American people,” while being an Indian person in the UK who votes for vile anti-immigration practices, or a Polish person with a horrible attitude about the Roma. Many people genuinely hold this very kindergarten idea of racism; if your opponent does as well, they’re probably thinking something like “Ancient Greek and Roman people didn’t have a concept of white supremacy, because whiteness hadn’t been invented yet, so how could they be racist?” And that’s unsound reasoning in a separate sense.
Racism as the practice of prejudice against an ethnicity, particularly one that is a minority, is a power differential that is perfectly observable in ancient cultures. The beliefs and behaviors will be preserved in written plays, recorded slurs, beauty standards, reactions to foreign marriages, and travel writing. The impacts will be documented in political records, trade agreements, the layouts of historical districts of ancient towns.
You don’t need permission to point out behaviours and impacts. You can point them out in any words you like. You can make up entirely new words to bully the ancient romans with. You are the one at this point of history and your words are the ones that get used.
Pretending that “words” are some kind of an intellect-obscuring magical cloud in the face of actual evidence is just a piece of sophistry (derogatory) on the part of your opponent here. It’s meant to be a distraction. You can dismiss this very flimsy shield pretty quickly and get them in the soft meat of them never reading anything about the actual material topic, while they’re still looking up dictionary definitions or whatever.
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mayuris-posts · 2 years
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#In fact#the success and Cost of the IVF cycle depends upon this.#Congratulations are due as you have crossed the 1st milestone - the fertilization or fusion of healthy eggs harvested from the woman with s#In the course of the natural fertilization process#when the embryo is formed within the body#changes occur inside the uterus as it prepares itself to accept the embryo and subsequently offer it nutrition. This seemingly simple proce#During the IVF cycle#this complex process is carried out by the embryologist in the IVF laboratory. This entire process needs to be monitored while creating co#Between 24 and 30 hours after fertilization (Day 1)#the embryo gets divided into 2 cells. By Day 2 the embryo is 4 cells and by the third day#the embryo is a 6-8 celled structure.#On the 4th day#the embryo cells are now fused#within 16-32 cell structures. This structure is now called a morula#which is a fast developing stage.#On day 5 of the embryo#the cells are specialized and carry out necessary functioning. The outer surface of the morula is the placenta in making & fluid secretions#Now#the real challenge is surviving and growing during the next 48 hrs. (day 3 to 5). The not-so-competent embryos will not survive this stage#implantation will occur only if the embryo reaches the day 5 stage.#The IVF center has the option of transferring on Day 3#hoping that the natural environment within the womb will take it to day 5 and enable implantation to occur.#However#this is taking a risk at the patient's expense. If#after a day 3 transfer an innately deficient embryo does not survive to grow to day 5#the transfer is bound to fail.#At Pearl Women’s Hospital#we do only day 5 transfers. In short#we transfer only when we are confident that the embryo is good enough to have grown up to day 5#increasing the chances of successful implantation.
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askmerriauthor · 10 months
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Homie. Darling. Muchaco. Please help me. You're an animator. You've worked in the video game industry. When you get to That One Memory in TOTK (you know which one I mean and if you don't, you will),
Please help me figure out what the fuck is going on with Ganondorf's face rigging
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Man, I didn't even need to look anything up: I knew EXACTLY what you were talking about as soon as you said it.
Short Answer: Need more polys.
Long Answer: It's simultaneously a case of limited model structure and potentially some degree of intentional design choice specific to Ganondorf's presentation in this particular game.
Discussion below the jump, just for the sake of not stretching out people's dashboards. No worries about spoilers: none of this is story-relevant.
So! To give a very broad strokes bit of coverage on the wide and varied nonsense that is 3D modeling, this is a case of Topology. The basic thrust is that topology is the overall structure and layout of the mesh that makes up the 3D model's various shapes. The lower the polygon count on that mesh, the more angular its structure and the less capacity for deformation it has. The higher the polygon count, the smoother its structure and the greater its capacity for deformation. The trade-off, however, is that low-poly models are easier for a game engine to render. High-poly models are a massive drain on processing power, to say nothing if they're built inefficiently with a bunch of wasted geometry bogging things down.
Here's an example of a low-poly model on the left and a high-poly model on the right.
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So when you want to make a character emote, you're basically grabbing a bunch of those polygons around the face and moving them around to shape the face into the desired expression. If you don't have a lot of polys to play with, it causes folding and tearing issues where the model and its textures do some pretty wonky shit.
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Something both BoTW and ToTK have going for them is that they're actually very low-poly games, which is extremely helpful in making the games run as smoothly as they do given the world size and seamless loading. The lighting and texture work do A TON of heavy lifting to make the game look as good as it does. Really look at these models closely and you can see how angular they are. Look at Zelda's outstretched hand or how sharply light falls across the character's features. In the bottom right, notice how you can see the sharp points that make up Zelda's shoulders? They're not rounded; they're angled just enough to give the general illusion of a curve at a glance. Same goes for her eyes; you can count the angles that make up the shape of her eye but, at a distance and at a glance, they look big, round, and doleful.
Something you can also notice is when characters talk, a lot of them have little to no facial deformation. Mineru, for example, basically has a one-hinge Muppet mouth outside of pre-rendered cutscenes. A lot of characters' eyes are basically painted onto their faces and switch between static texture shapes as opposed to being fully rendered and animated orbs modeled into their heads.
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Ganondorf actually has a fairly complex character model, especially compared to Link or Zelda, but he doesn't have a lot of model deformation. Basically the only parts of his head that move are his eyes/brows and mouth/jaw. If you look closely around his eyes you can see they're rendered basically as triangles. There's only two or three points along their shape the model can deform at. Further, since the rest of his face doesn't really deform when he emotes, it means the only thing that really moves are those small key elements. Which yields moments like this:
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The animators are basically pushing his expression as much as they are actually capable of with this model's limited structure. See the hard fold in the lower eyelid, or the fact that his teeth aren't attached to anything inside his jaw? It does the job though; it overall looks good and, in the moment this scene happens, really adds something to the unsettling nature of what's going down.
I mentioned before that there may be a certain intent as well. Something specific to Ganondorf in this iteration is that, more than ever, he's become an Oni. Ganondorf's character design has slowly been leaning toward more Japanese-specific visual concepts over the past few appearances but he's gone full yokai for ToTK. Not just in his build, but in his clothing and weaponry. Dude is swinging around a kanabo for the first time ever in the franchise.
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In Japanese mythology and Noh theater, a Red Oni basically functions as the embodiment of all the worst parts of mankind. They're greedy, brutal, cruel monsters who revel in causing destruction. If you want to look at their good aspects, it's traits like passion, ambition, and a wild spirit. But, overall, they're the bad guys. Ganondorf is 100% depicted as a Red Oni in ToTK. So when you keep that in mind, add in the implications of what Ganondorf just did in that scene, and consider the traditional appearances of a Red Oni...
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...then that face-breaking grin makes a lot more sense.
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lostfracturess · 2 months
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【 ꜱʏᴍᴘᴛᴏᴍꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇꜱ 】 ch. 07
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x pairing professor!gojo x med student f!reader (medical au)
x summary he's arrogant, self-centered, and he's your professor. renowned for his brilliance in neurosurgery and infamous for his allure. too bad you have to work with him on this research team. now you're stuck with dr. satoru gojo, delving into the complexities of both the brain and the heart—and of how far you'd go for a love that could destroy not only him but you as well.
x wc 12.2 k
x warnings [18+] this story contains substance abuse/addiction, (rough) smut, mature themes, self-destructive behavior, (heavy) angst, mentions of death / illness / blood / abuse, graphic medical procedures. reader discretion is advised.
x author's note dive in and let me know what you think—i love hearing your thoughts! & pls like or repost if you enjoyed, it means the world ♡
series masterlist + playlist + ao3 + wattpad
<- prev chapter | next chapter ->
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You shifted your weight from one leg to the other.
Then again.
No use. 
No position was comfortable anymore. How long have you been at it?
"Everything okay?"
You looked over to Satoru, nodding slightly. "I'm fine, just a bit stiff."
"We're almost done." Satoru seemed entirely at ease, his hands moving with his familiar precision and confidence as he navigated through the brain in front of him. 
It's almost criminal how good he was at masking his withdrawal.
"Can you hold on a little longer?"
"Yeah, I'm good." You forced yourself to push past the discomfort, ignoring the growing ache in your limbs. You shifted your weight from one leg to the other again. The sterile brightness of the operating room harsh against your tired eyes.
You mirrored his movements, every action synchronized seamlessly with his. As you retracted the tissue to reveal the implantation site, Satoru's sharp eyes caught something unexpected.
"Hold on a second," he interjected. "Come closer."
You leaned in, your focus shifting to where he was pointing his instrument. Amidst the intricate web of nerve fibers, a distinct cluster caught your attention, its arrangement defying the textbook descriptions you were used to seeing.
"This is an excellent example of neuroplasticity," Satoru explained. "See how the brain has restructured these pathways? It's adapting, compensating for lost functions. Beautiful, isn't it?"
"Yeah, it really is."
"That's something you won't find in books. Real-life experience is the best teacher."
"Thank you for showing me, Dr. Gojo."
Satoru turned to meet your gaze, his smile noticeable even under his mask. "It's my pleasure to teach you, first-year."
As Satoru carefully adjusted the microelectrodes to align with the neural pathways, you kept the surgical field clear, suctioning away any obstructions and adjusting the lighting to ensure Satoru had an unobstructed view of the implantation site.
"Speaking of teaching," Satoru began without looking away from his work. "What's the significance of the basal lamina in epithelial tissue organization?"
Caught off guard, you blinked. "What?"
"Was my question unclear, or are you pondering your answer?"
Oh my god. Not this again.
"It provides structural support and filtration, separating the epithelium from underlying connective tissue," you replied, focusing on assisting him while recalling your histology lectures.
"Correct. How about the roles of astrocytes and microglia in the CNS?" he continued, not missing a beat as he made another precise adjustment to the neuroimplant.
"Astrocytes support and protect neuronal cells; microglia act as immune cells within the CNS."
Satoru's smile grew slightly. "And the process and significance of axonal myelination in the CNS?"
"Oligodendrocytes wrap axons to form the myelin sheath, speeding up nerve impulse transmission," you explained as you handed him the next tool he needed.
"Excellent," Satoru acknowledged. "I wonder why you did so badly in your histology exam."
"Huh?"
Satoru turned to meet your gaze. "Your histology results. I've seen them. You didn't do well."
"That's because someone has been taking up all my study time," you said in a low tone. "Besides, stop snooping around my exam scores."
"Ah, so it's my fault, is it? Here I was, thinking I was quite the teacher."
"That's a bit of a stretch, considering you're the main reason I'm was behind the whole semester."
Satoru's grin widened. "But it helped with your anatomy exam, didn't it? And your pharmacology results were among the best."
You raised an eyebrow. "That had little to do with you."
"Anyway, shall we test the neuro connection now?" he suggested, flashing you a playful smile as he concluded the surgery.
As you both began the preliminary checks to ensure the equipment was ready for testing, the operating room door swung open. The anesthetist, a woman in her thirties with striking black hair and a prominent scar crossing her face over her nose, re-entered the OR and resumed her position.
"You know, as the anesthetist, I'd think your place is here, inside the OR, not out," Satoru commented.
The anesthetist waved it off with a dismissive gesture. "With a surgeon like you at the helm, Dr. Gojo, my worries are few and far between," she quipped. "Besides, I knew you had everything well in hand."
What is her mission here?
Your eyes wandered over to Satoru who seemed unfazed by her playful tone.
"Let's start with the diagnostic checks to confirm the implant's responsiveness. Pay close attention to the readings; we're looking for any signs of synaptic activity that align with our projections," Satoru said to you.
You monitored the screens closely, watching for the telltale signs. Satoru, too, kept a keen eye on the data streaming in, his expression tense. After a few moments, the first signs of success appeared. Relief washed over you.
"Looks like we're in business." Satoru's eyes meet yours, his lips curling into a smile. "Let's close the patient up."
"Would you like to do the honors?" Satoru asked, a slight nod towards the suture materials prepared on the tray beside him.
"Yes, I'd like that."
"Then come here," he said, adjusting the overhead light for you. You moved into Satoru's position as he stepped back. Satoru hovered close, his eyes never leaving your hands as they began their work.
"You can use a bit more tension." His hand briefly covered yours, guiding the needle with the precise pressure needed. "The skin has a few scars from past surgeries. If you stitch scar tissue too loosely, you compromise the incision's integrity."
His hands were a comforting presence, guiding but not controlling, allowing you to feel the right amount of tension necessary. "That's it, nice and steady. You're doing great." He stepped back to let you finish independently. 
The room fell into a concentrated silence. The process was methodical, each movement deliberate, as you worked to close the incision, layer by layer, ensuring the integrity of the closure.
"Good girl," Satoru whispered as you secured the final stitch. "Didn't expect anything less form you. The patient is going to be thankful for such a neat closure."
You glanced back at him. "Thank you Dr. Gojo."
"Always my pleasure."
After the surgery, you both scrubbed up in the washing room, the warm water cascading over your hands.
"Our first successful surgery," Satoru mused, his gaze meeting yours. "Looks like this summer's going to be a breeze."
"It will sure be an interesting summer with that anesthetist."
"What do you mean?"
"You didn't get it? The anesthetist was practically throwing herself at you earlier."
"Really?"
"Yeah, seriously. She wasn't very subtle."
He grinned. "What, are you jealous?"
Just as you were about to respond, the door to the washing room opened, and the anesthetist walked in. "Dr. Gojo," she began. "That was an impressive surgery. It's always a pleasure to work with such a skilled surgeon." 
Wow. Thank you.
She talked like you weren't even there.
Satoru offered a polite smile. "Thank you. But It was a team effort."
Undeterred, the anesthetist stepped closer, her intention clear. "I was wondering if you'd like to grab dinner sometime? To discuss more about your work, maybe?"
The room fell into an uncomfortable silence, broken only by the sound of running water. You stole a glance at Satoru, who appeared momentarily paralyzed. You cleared your throat, reminding him that the anesthetist was waiting for his answer.
"I'm sorry, but I'm with someone," Satoru finally managed to say.
Huh?
The soap bar slipped from your grip at his words. It crashed into the sink with a sound that felt disproportionately loud in the tense silence that followed.
Satoru turned towards you. "You okay?"
"Yeah." You hastily reached for the soap again, your movements a bit too quick, a bit too shaky.
The anesthetist's expression faltered, a brief flash of embarrassment crossing her features before she quickly composed herself. "Of course, sorry. I should have seen that," she said, her gaze flickering between you and Satoru.
Oh fuck.
"Seen what?" Satoru asked.
"That you're dating. I just thought it'd be rather unusual for a professor and a student, but I'm not—," she stumbled over her words. Her exit strategy crumbled as gracefully as your grasp on the soap bar, which slipped from your fingers once more, causing another loud thud as it hit the sink.
"I should go now," the anesthetist hastened to add. She left the room in a rush, leaving you and Satoru alone once again. You felt as if all blood had drained from your face.
"Are you good?" Satoru asked again, his gaze piercing as if silently questioning your ability to perform surgery when you couldn't even hold a damn bar of soap in your hands.
"Yeah, I'm good." You quickly tried to shake off the lingering awkwardness. "You should probably clear that up."
"She's actually from another hospital. She's just here for today's surgery."
"Still, Satoru."
"Alright, alright, I'll clear things up with her. You have my word."
The hospital was a breeding ground for gossip. The last thing either of you needed was speculative gossip. Yet, Satoru seemed to find an odd sense of appeal in the idea.
"Actually, part of me thinks it wouldn't be so bad to let the rumor spread," he mused, running a towel over his hands. "It would certainly be easier than all this sneaking around."
"Are you out of your mind?"
He laughed. "Perhaps a bit." His eyes sparkled with mischief as they met yours. "But imagine it—no more tiptoeing around, no more fear of getting caught."
Before you could react, Satoru leaned in. His hands slipped around your waist to pull you closer. You pushed against him, a feeble attempt to keep some distance.
"You know, we're not in a relationship, Satoru."
"What, you're banning me to the friend zone?"
"It's not like you've ever left it."
"Harsh. That cuts deep."
You rolled your eyes. "Sure."
With a soft sigh, he released you, stepping back. "Come with me. There's something I want to show you."
─── ·✧· ───
Without further explanation, he led you through the quiet halls of the hospital to his office. The moment you entered Satoru's office, you were welcomed by the rhythmic pattering of rain against the windows. The office was dimly lit, the only light coming from the stormy sky outside.
Satoru shrugged off his coat and collapsed onto the couch, a deep sigh escaping him. For a moment, he lay still, his eyes fixed on his phone as he navigated through it.
You joined him on the couch. "What's this?" you asked as he handed you his phone.
"Just watch."
You pressed play on the video.
It showed the young patient from the first surgery, now equipped with his biometric arm you both had painstakingly worked for. The patient was in a training room, demonstrating an impressive range of motion and dexterity with the new limb. His movements were fluid and controlled. Almost perfect.
You couldn't help but smile.
Satoru's voice could be heard in the background, praising the patient's progress. The patient's face lit up with a broad smile as he looked into the camera.
The video ended.
"He was here yesterday for a checkup," Satoru said, running a hand over his face and through his hair. "This is your doing. You made this happen."
"It took all of us to get this done."
"No. You led the surgery. It was your doing. And now, he has a chance at a new life. All thanks to you. Feels good, doesn't it?"
"What?" You handed the phone back to him.
"Knowing that we can actually change things," Satoru mused as he flipped the phone idly in his hand, replaying the video. "Make a real difference in someone's life."
"It does." Your smile turned bittersweet as you observed him closely. "You look tired, Satoru."
Satoru glanced at you, a shadow of a smile crossing his lips. He rubbed his slightly bloodshot eyes. "Do I?"
"Yeah. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine."
"You don't look 'fine.'" You gently pushed the damp hair away from his forehead. His reaction was immediate; his hand captured yours, drawing it down to caress his cheek. He leaned into your touch, a sigh escaping him as he closed his eyes.
"You should really consider just taking some clonidine."
He exhaled deeply. "You really not stopping with that."
"Because you keep being stupid," you replied, pulling away to stand. "Where do you have it?"
"In my bag."
You crossed the room to where his bag lay, rummaging through its contents until you found the medication. Holding the clonidine in hand, you turned back to face him. Satoru had shifted to a sitting position, his gaze fixed on you.
Holding out the medication, you met his gaze, urging him silently to take it. But Satoru hesitated, a slight pout on his lips. "I can't."
"Why not?" Frustration edged into your voice. "Satoru, it's for your own good."
"It's not that simple."
"It is. You're making it complicated."
A tense silence filled the space between you, the rain's steady patter against the windows underscoring the moment. "I... I just can't take it like this."
"What do you mean?"
"I can't stand the taste."
He really got some nerves.
"Don't make me force you to take it."
Satoru's lips quirked up in a half-smile. "You couldn't make me swallow it if you tried."
"You think so?" you countered, your patience thinning.
Deciding on a more direct approach, you moved closer and sat down on his lap, straddling him. His eyes widened as you did so. He let himself fall back against the couch, his hands instinctively settling on your hips.
You reached for one of the pills, your movements deliberate under Satoru's watchful gaze. "What are you about to do?"
Holding the pill between your fingers, you met his gaze squarely. "I'm making sure you take this." You placed the pill on your tongue, savoring its bitter taste. 
His breath caught in his throat as your lips met his. Still, his tongue eagerly met yours. 
He swallowed the pill without a second thought.
That's it, isn't it?
You should withdraw.
Withdraw your lips from his soft and tender lips.
God, his lips were soft against yours. Just like you remember. How you missed it.
Ah fuck it.
His lips moved against yours. His kisses became more urgent, more possessive, as he hungrily devoured your lips. In that instant, nothing else existed except the two of you. With a sudden tug, Satoru pulled you closer until there was hardly any space left between your bodies.
"I thought we had an agreement?" Satoru gasped between kisses.
"Did we?" you said, throwing your own principles overboard.
They didn't stick around very long, did they?
I'm not judging you, reader. It's Satoru Gojo after all.
We would all bend the rules for him, wouldn't we?
His lips twitched into a wicked smile. His hands creep under the hem of your shirt, working their way up your back. Drawing closer, your body melded seamlessly with his.
You shifted slightly, arching your spine to grind against him, causing a low moan to escape his chest. In return, his touch grew urgent, fingers pressing into your flesh as if seeking comfort in your warmth. He kissed the side of your neck, sending shivers down your spine.
Your hands found their way into his hair, fingers tangling in the strands, urging him onward. His lips moved down, leaving a trail of fire wherever they went. Then, with a tantalizing flicker, his tongue traced the curve of your neck, turning your core molten.
The world outside faded, the only sound the pouring rain outside and the whisper of fabric against skin—until the abrupt light from his phone broke the spell, its screen illuminating the dim room.
"Ignore it," he murmured against your lips.
Ignoring the insistent vibration of his phone, Satoru deepened his kiss. You could feel his longing pulsing through him, matching your own. As if in response to the sound of the phone, his touch became bolder and more intense, leaving heat wherever he touched you.
Yet, the persistent buzzing of the phone became impossible to ignore. You turned your head slightly to see who was calling him for the third time in a row.
"Don't," Satoru whispered, cupping your chin to bring your focus back to him. "Focus only on me." His lips sought yours once more.
But you couldn't help it when his phone rang a fourth time. You cracked open one eye and glanced at the screen. "Satoru, wait," you pulled away from his lips. "It's Director Yaga."
Groaning in frustration, he reluctantly released his grip on you.
"Hello?" he answered.
Satoru's brow furrowed as he listened, his occasional nods doing little to reveal the nature of the conversation. Finally, Satoru hung up. 
He looked at you, his expression grave. The sudden shift in his demeanor sent a chill through you, the air around you suddenly felt colder.
"Yaga wants to see us. In his office. As soon as possible."
"What? Why?"
"Didn't say anything."
"What did he say then?"
"Only mentioned it's urgent and that we both appear." He dropped his head back onto the back of the couch. "God, Yaga is such a cockblock."
You leaned back slightly, worry creasing your brow. "It's probably because of that student you punched. He must know something."
"He doesn't know anything."
"What if that student presses charges? What if rumors already spead? What if he wants to fire you?" The words tumbled out of your mouth before you could stop them.
Satoru cupped your face, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Whatever it is, I'll handle it."
"How can you be so sure? What will we even say?"
"Trust me, I'll do the talking. Just stay quiet, okay?"
"Okay," you whispered, trying to push aside your concerns as you took a deep breath to steady your nerves.
The storm outside suddenly seemed much louder than before.
─── ·✧· ───
The clock was ticking.
It was the only sound in the tense silence.
Director Yaga sat behind his desk, his expression inscrutable, yet the sharpness in his gaze suggested a brewing storm. He watched the two of you for what seemed like an eternity.
He then leaned forward. His hands clasped on the desk. His gaze bored into Satoru with an intensity that made even the famous neurosurgeon shift uncomfortably.
"Director Yaga—" Satoru started, but then Yaga spoke himself.
"Why the hell did you punch that student in the face, Gojo?"
"Because he drugged one of my students." Satoru said. "I found out that he slipped something into her drink during the faculty party two weeks ago."
"And you thought the appropriate response was to physically assault the student?"
"I couldn't let it go, sir. What he did was dangerous. She could have been seriously harmed."
Yaga leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. "Dr. Gojo, your method leaves much to be desired. We can't have our staff resorting to violence every time they're upset."
Satoru's jaw tightened. "I understand, sir. It was a lapse in judgment. But considering the circumstances—"
"Circumstances?" Yaga interrupted, his tone rising. "This is a university, not a back alley. We have protocols for dealing with misconduct. You know this."
"I do, sir. And I apologize for overstepping. But with all due respect, those protocols might not have protected her in time."
"And you think a punch was the immediate solution?"
"It was what I felt necessary at the moment."
Yaga's gaze hardened again. "Dr. Gojo, your 'momentary feelings' are becoming a liability. This isn't the first time your actions have caused complications. Your skills as a surgeon are beyond question, but your impulse control is, frankly, concerning."
"I understand the gravity of my actions, sir," Satoru said. "And I am prepared to face the consequences."
You needed to say something.
Do something.
You opened your mouth but Satoru raised his hand slightly from his lap so that only you could see it. He didn't want you to say anything.
Yaga studied him for a long moment, then sighed. "I'll deal with the student's misconduct appropriately. As for you, Dr. Gojo, there will be consequences. I expect better from you in the future. Much better."
Satoru nodded. "Thank you, sir. It won't happen again."
Yaga's gaze then shifted to you. "You're spending a lot of time with Dr. Gojo, right?"
Your eyes briefly flicked to Satoru. "Yes, sir. We're working closely on the neuroprosthetics project."
"And how do you find working with Dr. Gojo?"
You hesitated for a second. You could feel Satoru's gaze on you. "It's been an incredible learning experience," you said. "Dr. Gojo is a brilliant surgeon, and working with him has offered me insights and opportunities I wouldn't have had otherwise."
"Indeed," Yaga mused, leaning back in his chair. "It's good to see such teamwork among our staff. But remember, the university and the hospital are a small world. Rumors spread quickly."
Your blood ran cold.
The warning was clear.
"You can leave now," Yaga said, his tone indicating that the remainder of the discussion was meant for Satoru alone.
"Thank you, sir." You stood, casting one last glance at Satoru, who remained seated. Satoru caught your look, offering a subtle nod.
You found yourself pacing the corridor outside, the minutes stretching into what felt like hours. Every scenario imaginable played out in your mind, each more disconcerting than the last. 
Finally, the door opened, and Satoru emerged — a practiced smile on his face. Yet, the tightness around his eyes betrayed him.
"Everything's fine," he said.
"Is it really?"
"Honestly, it's nothing to worry about. Yaga just wanted to go over a few things. You know how it is."
"Satoru, if something's wrong—"
"Really, it's nothing. Just the usual Yaga being overcautious. We're fine."
The use of "we" didn't escape your notice. 
You knew Satoru well enough by now to recognize when he was shielding you — or perhaps himself — from worry. Yet, his insistence on handling matters alone, on bearing the brunt of any fallout without burdening you, was both admirable and, at times, maddeningly frustrating.
You studied him for a moment, searching his face for any sign of what truly happened behind closed doors. It was then that he stepped closer, closing the distance between you.
"Come on, don't make that face." His hands came up to cradle your face. "Everything's fine."
"You don't have to protect me from everything, you know that, right?"
"Still, you can't stop me from trying." He released you from his hold and turned. "Come on, let's grab something to eat. I'm starving."
─── ·✧· ───
The early morning sun bathed the hospital grounds in a soft, orange light, heralding the start of another beautiful summer day. A gentle breeze, carrying with it the scent of freshly mown grass, whispered through the trees.
As you made your way toward the hospital, your eyes found Geto and Satoru. They were seated on a bench under the expansive branches of an oak tree, bathed in the speckled sunlight that danced through the leaves, casting patterns of light and shadow around them.
Drawing closer, Satoru caught sight of you, his face lighting up with a smile. 
"There she is," Geto greeted you, a cigarette loosely held between his fingers. He exhaled a stream of smoke, the wisps dancing lazily in the morning light.
Satoru shifted to make room for you on the bench. "Ready for today?"
You took a seat beside him. "As ready as I can be," you said. "How about you?"
Satoru presented his hand in front of you, somewhat still. "See? No tremors today. All's well."
"I'm glad," you replied, though your eyes couldn't help but trace the faint bruises and scratches that still marred his otherwise flawless pale skin — remnants of the confrontation with that student. As your gaze shifted back to his, he offered you a wink, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
Geto broke the sudden stillness. "So, heading into surgery number four today?"
"Yeah, your fourth one, eight more to go," you confirmed. "What do you have lined up for today, Geto?"
With a knowing smirk, Geto exhaled another stream of smoke. "An aneurysm clipping."
Intrigued, you leaned in slightly, your eyes brightening. "What really?"
Catching your reaction, Satoru teased, "Thinking of ditching me for Geto's surgery?"
You rolled your eyes. "Never, but you have to admit, nothing compares to the thrill of an aneurysm."
Satoru settled back, a shiver passing through him. "You know, you're kind of scary sometimes."
Geto let out a low laugh as he stood, crushing his cigarette underfoot. "Well then, I should get ready for my 'thrilling' surgery. Good luck with your procedure today."
Before Geto could stride away, Satoru's voice halted him. "Hey, Suguru, try not to scare your team away this time. We're running out of interns who don't break into a cold sweat at the mention of your name."
Geto turned. "Oh, please, Satoru. Interns come to me to recover from the trauma of working with you."
Leaning back on the bench, Satoru draped his arm across the back, subtly encircling you. "Scaring them is a necessary part of their training. Builds character. After me, they're ready for anything."
"You mean after they recover from the trauma," Geto said, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards.
"You should be thanking me. Makes you look like the good guy for a change."
"That's your plan? Making me look good?" Geto raised an eyebrow. "Well, try not to traumatize them too much, will you?"
"No promises," Satoru replied. "But I'll consider it, just for you."
Geto waved a dismissive hand. "Just make sure you don't scare away this one." He gestured towards you. "She's a keeper."
As Geto disappeared into the hospital, Satoru turned to you, the smile still lingering on his face. "See what I have to put up with? It's a tough job, but someone's got to keep him in check."
"Seems like you both do a good job of keeping each other grounded."
"Yeah, we do. Couldn't ask for a better friend, even if he is a bit of a menace."
You observed him for a second. "How are you really feeling today?"
Satoru hesitated for a moment before extending his hand towards you. It was a subtle, but his hand was trembling, the fine tremors betraying his withdrawal. "See? Steady as ever," he joked, though his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "Just need a bit of caffeine."
"You sure?"
"Yeah, but," he edged closer, "you know, you could always help steady them."
You stood up and began to walk towards the hospital. "In your dreams, Satoru."
"Oh, so we're playing by the rules now?"
"The rules bend to my will. They're mine, after all."
"Wait," he interjected. "There's something I've been wanting to ask you."
You stopped, turning to face him. "What is it?"
"Next week, I've been invited to give a guest lecture at another university about our neuroprosthetics research. I was hoping you'd join me for the presentation. Would you be interested in co-presenting?"
"Me? Co-present with you?"
"I can't think of anyone better to share the stage with."
"But what about Geto? It's as much his project. Shouldn't he be the one to present with you?"
He shrugged. "But I’d rather have you with me. Besides, he won’t be mad at me for choosing you.”
"I don't know if I'm the right person for that, Satoru."
He leaned forward. "You won't be up there alone. I'll be with you every step of the way. Haven't we always worked best as a team?"
You watched him for a second, considering.
"There's more," he added. "The university, it's a bit far away. We'd have to stay overnight."
"And let me guess, you need someone to look after you?"
Without missing a beat, Satoru's grin widened. "You know, with my problems and all, I could use someone to keep me in line."
"Are you seriously using your addiction to guilt-trip me into this?"
"Absolutely. But seriously, I need you there. Not just for me, but for this. For us."
"You're impossible." You let out a sigh, defeated yet somehow exhilarated. "Alright, Satoru. I'll go with you."
"That's all I wanted to hear," Satoru beamed, his eyes softening. "Now, let's go open some skulls."
─── ·✧· ───
The morning air held a cool bite.
When the door creaked open, Satoru stood there, looking like someone who had just rolled out of bed. His hair stood in every direction, his eyes blinking against the daylight, and his clothes — a rumpled t-shirt and sweatpants — spoke volumes of his unpreparedness.
"Uh, good morning?" His greeting came out more as a question as he took in the sight of you, fully dressed and ready, suitcase and all. "You want to move in? Not that I would complain."
"You seriously forgot?"
"Forgot what?"
"We're supposed to head to the university today. Our meeting with the director is at noon. The lecture, Satoru. Remember?"
"That was today?" he murmured, running a hand through his already disheveled hair.
"Yes."
"Fuck." Satoru stepped aside and let you enter his apartment. "Give me ten minutes. Fifteen, tops."
You stepped inside, setting your suitcase down by the door. The apartment was quiet, save for the distant sounds of the city outside and Satoru's hurried movements from room to room. "Be right back," he said and disappeared into the bathroom. 
The sound of running water soon filled the space.
Left to your own devices, you began to pace the living area of his apartment. "So, what's the plan? Did you even prepare the lecture?" you called out, raising your voice slightly to be heard over the sound of the shower.
From the bathroom, Satoru's laughter echoed. "I'm always prepared, as you can see."
"Yeah, that's what I thought." You meandered around the room, straightening out a stack of papers here, realigning books there — a small attempt to bring order to Satoru's organized chaos. "You really haven't prepared, have you?"
"Ah, you know me too well," he called back. "Didn't you prepare something?"
"Of course, I did."
After a few minutes, the water turned off, and the apartment fell into a brief silence before Satoru reappeared. His hair was wet and slicked back, giving him a more put-together appearance, despite the fact he was only in his underwear. Droplets of water glistened on his skin, trailing down his chest and abs. Your gaze shamelessly lingered.
"I knew I could count on you," he teased, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. 
"Sometimes I wonder how you even managed to become a professor."
"Do you really hold such a low opinion of me? The lecture's all set on my laptop. We'll go over it during the drive," he reassured, before striding towards his bedroom.
You followed him, leaning against the doorframe. "And here I was, worried you'd forgotten about the professional part of being a professor."
He laughed, pulling on a pair of trousers and beginning to button up a shirt. "Never doubt my commitment to teaching. My methods may be unconventional, but the results speak for themselves."
He then began throwing random cloths on his bed to pack. His shirt, only half-tucked, fluttered with each brisk movement.
You stepped into the room to offer some semblance of help — or at least moral support. Making yourself comfortable on the bed beside the pile of cloths, you observed his somewhat arbitrary decision-making process, each choice seemingly dictated by a 'that'll do' attitude.
"Shall I help pick out a tie that will adequately convey 'accountable professor,' or have we already moved beyond such formalities?"
Satoru shot you a look. "Haha, very funny," he retorted. "I'll have you know, I perform excellently under pressure."
Adjusting his shirt, he secured his belt with a metallic click. "Besides," he continued, now fully dressed and giving off an air of readiness, "I was counting on your impeccable sense of organization to make sure we didn't forget anything important."
You arched an eyebrow. "So, I'm your security plan? Here I thought I was the co-presenter."
He paused, his gaze intensifying as he crossed the room in two strides. Climbing onto the bed, his presence loomed over you, his nearness overwhelming.
"You're much more than that," he said, his voice softer this time. "You're everything."
The room seemed to hold its breath, the early morning light casting long shadows that danced around you both. Without another word, Satoru leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. It was a fleeting touch, yet it sparked a longing that begged for more.
He didn't wait long to deepen the kiss, pressing his lips even harder against yours. Your lips locked together as if starved for each other's embrace. Savoring every moment, they explored each other deeply. Before parting, Satoru's teeth nipped at your lower lip.
Parting, Satoru's eyes shimmered in the morning light, his fingertip delicately tracing the line of your cheekbone. "Now, let's make sure we're not late because of my supposed unpreparedness."
─── ·✧· ───
The drive to the other university unfolded under a sky so clear and blue it seemed almost surreal. it was an eight-hour drive, maybe more. You may have slept half the way.
The closer you got to the coast, the more the air changed, imbued with a freshness that hinted at the vast expanse of water nearby. When you finally arrived at the university, the salty tang of the ocean breeze greeted you, wafting through the warm air. You stepped out of the car, stretching your legs and taking a deep breath.
Satoru led the way across the campus with a stride that suggested familiarity. The university itself was an impressive collection of modern and classical architecture, its buildings bathed in the golden light of the sun. 
You followed Satoru closely as you navigated through the lively campus. Students and faculty alike went about their day. Palm trees swayed gently in the breeze, casting playful shadows on the paths that crisscrossed the grounds.
"I have a feeling this isn't your first time here," you said.
Satoru glanced over at you, a smile playing on his lips. "Ah, the director here is an old friend of mine."
"So, this is a bit of a reunion for you two, then?"
"In a way, yes." The sun accentuated the subtle lines of amusement around his eyes. "But to be honest, he's always been a pain in my ass. We've been challenging each other since our university days. Always trying to outdo one another, whether in academics, research, or... well, less scholarly things."
What's that supposed to mean?
Satoru didn't hesitate as he approached the director's office. He raised his hand and knocked firmly on the door, the sound echoing slightly in the quiet hallway. You stood by his side, a whirlwind of thoughts swirling in your mind.
"Come in," called a voice from inside.
As Satoru pushed the door open, you both entered.
The director was a man in his thirties, the same age as Satoru, you guessed. His hair was loosely combed back, and his hair had a light pink blush that you found rather unusual. What caught your eye, however, were the geometric line tattoos adorning his arms, revealed by his rolled-up sleeves.
The director rose from his chair upon your entrance. The familiarity between him and Satoru was immediate. "Toru, it's been ages!" he exclaimed.
Toru?
Toru?
That casual nickname threw you for a moment.
The two of them embraced each other in a firm hug that seemed almost painful to an outsider. "Sukuna, you haven't changed a bit."
Turning his focus to you, Sukuna's sharp eyes found you. "And you must be the talented co-presenter I've heard so much about," he said, his voice carrying a smooth confidence that bordered on arrogance. "How was the drive over? I hope Toru here didn't bore you too much with his old university stories."
Stop calling him Toru, for fuck's sake.
Before you could muster a response, Sukuna took your hand in his, bending slightly to press a kiss to the back of it — a gesture that felt oddly out of place and left you feeling momentarily disoriented. "Please, call me Sukuna," he insisted, his grin wide.
I'm going to call you an asshole if you don't let go of my hand right now.
Sukuna stepped back and leaned against his desk. "So, Toru," he began, "are you still trying to save the world one brain at a time?"
"Someone's got to do it, especially when others are too busy terrorizing the next generation of doctors," he retorted.
Sukuna laughed. "Ah, but you know, adversity breeds excellence. Or so I keep telling them. I remember times, where you did the same."
Satoru chuckled. "You know me, always up for a challenge."
"That's for sure" Sukuna scoffed, he then adressed you. "You know that your professor always trying to beat me at... Well, anything, really."
"That's because you set the bar so low," Satoru shot back.
"Me? Low? I just see one person in this room leading a whole university." 
Satoru leaned back in his chair. "That's just because I hate paperwork. I can't believe they even suggested you for this job after you barely making it to morning rounds for years."
Sukuna laughed, leaning forward. "Ah yes, but who was it that set the record for the most successful procedures in a single semester? Remind me, Toru."
Satoru's smirk grew wider. "Must have been the same person who had to repeat almost every exam."
Sukuna waved dismissively. "Details, details. But what happened? You became so tame."
"Grow older, you know. Wiser. Would suit you as well."
Sukuna chraked a smile and turned to you again. "Ah, so it's your influence, then?" You winced. "Impressive. I've never seen anyone manage to keep Toru on a leash before."
What is wrong with this guy.
Satoru's reaction was immediate, his eyes narrowing just a touch. "Don't go there Sukuna. We're here for a lecture you asked for, not for you to come at my student."
Sukuna raised his hands in a mock surrender. "Alright, alright, I give in. It seems you've finally met your match."
Sukuna pushed away from his desk and walked around it. "I'm looking forward to your lecture. The students and faculty are in for a treat. But now I have to go, I have a meeting in 10 minutes. But, maybe we can catch up later, reminisce about the good old days."
"Sounds like a plan," Satoru said, rising from his seat.
"I'll call you." Sukuna collected some papers and his bag, nodding to both of you before leaving the office.
"I didn't expect you two to be so close," you commented as you both made your way down the sunlit hallway. "You seem like a different person around him."
Satoru raised an eyebrow. "Different, how?"
"It's just... It's like you're returning to your university self."
He pondered your words for a moment. "Sukuna was a close friend of mine during my university days. We went through a lot together. But somewhere along the way, our paths parted. He climbed the academic ladder, and I... well, I found my calling in neurosurgery."
"It must be nice to catch up after all these years."
Satoru nodded. "It is. We've both changed in many ways, but some things remain the same."
As you both made your way out of the university and to the car, the afternoon sun made the door handles almost too hot to touch. "So what are we gonna do now?" you asked as Satoru opened the passenger door for you.
"I know a place."
─── ·✧· ───
"Feels like holiday here," you observed, taking a sip of your ice-cold drink.
"That's why I brought you here," Satoru replied with an easy smile.
Seated at a cozy corner of a beachside bar, you and Satoru found a spot in the shade. The bar was open-air, offering an unobstructed view of the expansive beach and the calm sea beyond. Around you, the soft chatter of other guests and the gentle sound of the waves in the background.
With cold drinks in hand, you both relaxed into the comfortable silence, taking in the sight of the azure waters and the feel of the light sea breeze.
Curiosity eventually got the better of you. "So, how did you and Sukuna meet?"
Satoru leaning back, glancing at you over his sunglasses. "You're really asking a lot about him."
"Just curious."
"Sukuna and I did our undergraduate together, and eventually we both decided to do an exchange semester here," he explained, his gaze drifting towards the horizon. "This place, this university, it holds a lot of memories."
You watched him, waiting for him to continue.
"Sukuna was always the more... adventurous one, I guess. Always pushing the limits, dragging me along for the ride."
"Sounds like you had quite the time."
Satoru laughed. "Guess you can say that. Sukuna had this knack for finding trouble, and somehow, I always ended up being his wingman."
As a silence fell between you, you found yourself biting your lower lip, a sense of unease growing within you.
After a moment, Satoru broke the quiet. "What's on your mind, love?"
Taken aback, you paused. "It's nothing, really."
Satoru's expression softened. "I can see that something's bothering you." As he spoke, he reached across the table, his hand finding yours. His fingers wrapped around your hand, offering a comforting warmth as his thumb began to softly caress your skin.
"Just a bit surprising to see this side of you. It's so different."
He exhaled softly and turned his attention back to the horizon, where the sea met the sky in a seamless blend of colors, his hand still holding yours across the table. "Because I was different then. But Sukuna's idea of adventure was often too close to the edge for my liking. Still, I let myself get swept along." His eyes met yours again. "But not anymore."
You offered a faint smile in response.
The calm moment was abruptly shattered when Satoru's other hand unexpectedly twitched, causing his drink to slip from his grip. The glass hit the sand below with a loud thud.
You jumped at the sudden sound. "Are you okay?"
He looked down at his hand, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. "Seems so." He flexed his fingers as if to reassure himself. "Hm, that's new." His attempt at nonchalance did little to mask the undercurrent of concern in his voice.
Satoru turned his attention back to you. "Really, I'm fine," he reiterated, seeing the worry that hadn't quite left your eyes.
"How much clonidine did you take today?"
"I haven't taken any. Thought I'd try a day without." Satoru read the concern on your face, a soft chuckle escaping him. "Don't give me that face."
"What face?"
"That worried face. I'd rather see you smile."
"I wouldn't be so worried if you could just take your damn medicine."
Satoru suddenly rose from his seat, closing the distance between you two. His hands found the arms of your chair. He leaned in, his voice a low, coaxing whisper. "Then perhaps you'd be willing to administer it more... personally?"
"Satoru, we're not alone here," you reminded him, though the intensity of his gaze made the rest of the world seem momentarily distant.
He grinned. "Does it matter? No one here knows us."
"Still—"
Your protest was barely audible before he interjected, "I know something better." Before you could process his words, or even respond, you found yourself lifted effortlessly, the world tilting as Satoru slung you over his shoulder in one fluid motion.
"What? What are you doing?"
He strode towards the water's edge, the sand beneath his feet giving way to the firmer, wet surface as the waves lapped gently at the shore. 
"Put me down, Satoru!"
"Why so fierce, sweetheart?" His voice was teasing, laced with amusement.
Suspicion flickered in your eyes as you sensed his intentions, the vast, open sea just steps away. "Satoru, don't you dare—"
It was too late for warnings. With a mischievous grin, Satoru charged, plunging both of you into the shallow embrace of the ocean waves. The water was surprisingly warm, enveloping you both as you made a splash, your clothes instantly soaking up the sea. 
You were underwater for a second, before you broke the surface. Satoru shook his head, water droplets flying from his hair, which now clung to his forehead and temples in dark, damp strands. 
You pushed away, swimming a few strokes back to put some space between you. "You're insane!" you exclaimed as you splashed water in his direction. 
Satoru shielded himself with his hands, still laughing. "You have to admit, it's refreshing!" he retorted, dodging your playful splashes with ease. The sunlight, now a rich golden, bathed the water around you, each splash shimmering like liquid gold in the dying light.
"Come here," he said as he swam over to you, pulling you close to him in the water. The water lifted you both, gently swaying you in its embrace as you floated together, suspended between sea and sky.
His hand reached up to cradle your face. His hands trembled ever so slightly as he held you close. His eyes, reflecting the sky's ever-changing hues, held yours. You held your breath, momentarily lost in his gaze.
"Promise me this," he said, "as soon as I'm clean, we drop the act. No more hiding, no games. I want you, only you, and I want us to be official. I want you to be mine."
As he spoke, there was an honesty in his crystal blue eyes you hadn't seen before, a vulnerability he rarely showed. He was not the confident surgeon you knew, not the serious professor. He was just Satoru, raw and sincere, laying his heart bare before you — laying his love bare before you.
In that moment, with the waves gently crashing around you and the last rays of the sun setting the sky aflame, you knew there was no turning back. You were his, completely and irrevocably, and nothing could change that.
"I've always been yours," you whispered.
It was a promise, a plea, a surrender, a confession all at once. Because you felt like surrendering — surrendering to him — but it was easy — surrendering to him was easy. Because every moment you weren't in his embrace was lost. Empty. Meaningless.
Because in the end, nothing else mattered but him.
And he smiled.
His chest emptied of a breath he must have held for a long time.
And then, as naturally as the tide finds the shore, his lips found yours.
The kiss was soft, unhurried, as if time itself had slowed to savor the moment between you. Every worry, every fear melted away, replaced by the conviction that you were exactly where you were meant to be. It was a promise. It was home.
For in his kiss, you had found your home.
And he found his.
Your mouths part ever so slightly as you breathe out. The salty taste of the sea lingered on your lips. Satoru smiled at you, his forehead gently resting against yours. Then, with an intensity that spoke volumes, his lips found yours once more.
This kiss was different from any before, making you feel alive in a way that nothing else ever could. Beneath the water's surface, he pulled you even closer, his touch electric against your skin. You responded in kind, wrapping your legs around his hips as he held you both above the water's edge.
With the waves softly cradling you, you floated weightlessly, your bodies intertwined like seaweed in the gentle currents. And in that fleeting moment, you knew one thing for sure:
This man would either be your forever or your ultimate downfall.
─── ·✧· ───
As you entered the hotel lobby, the air conditioning hit you like a wave. The hotel staff cast sidelong glances your way, noticing the faint trail of saltwater you inadvertently left behind on the polished floor.
Your hotel rooms were conveniently located next to each other. The saltwater had left its mark, clinging to your skin and hair. After a refreshing shower, you were just in the process of drying your hair when a knock came at your door. 
You opened it to find Satoru leaning casually against the doorframe. He had changed into a fresh set of clothes, his hair still slightly damp from his own shower, giving him a carefree, almost boyish appearance.
"Hey, how about a game of pool?" he suggested with an easy smile. "Sukuna challenged us and I thought it might be fun."
You blinked. "I've never actually played before," you said as you dried your hair with a towel.
Satoru's smile widened. "Perfect, then I'll have the pleasure of teaching you. It'll be fun, I promise."
"But wouldn't it be a bit... weird? I mean, with me being a student and you both being professors..." 
Satoru shrugged. "It's just a game of pool. Besides, we're not at the university now, and Sukuna's not one to care about formalities. Trust me, it'll be fine."
You watched him for a moment, pondering.
"I really want you to come," he insisted, leaning in a bit closer.
"Okay," you said. "Let me just get dressed."
Satoru's grin widened. He pushed off from the doorframe. "Great! I'll wait for you outside."
Soon enough you found yourself leaning over a green baize-covered billiard table. 
In the dimly lit ambiance of the hotel's bar, the sound of clinking glasses and muffled conversations created a backdrop to the night's unfolding scene. The air was thick with the scent of polished wood and the faint hint of cigar smoke.
The weight of the cue in your hands felt foreign. Your focus narrowed to the white cue ball that awaited your command.
Satoru moved closer, his body brushing against yours as he positioned himself to guide your shot. "Just lean over the table a bit more," he said, his voice low and close to your ear. He placed one hand on your back to guide you down. "Yeah, like that."
"Now hold the cue like this." His hands gently cupped yours, adjusting your grip. His fingers intertwined with yours. The warmth of his hands seeped through your skin, sending a subtle shiver down your spine. "And aim just there," he continued, pointing to a spot on the cue ball.
In the background, Sukuna leaned against a nearby wall across from you, observing the scene. His eyes sparkled with an amused interest, clearly entertained by the exchange. Every now and then, his gaze would meet yours, a silent challenge, or perhaps a tease, lurking within their depths.
"Focus on where you want the ball to go," Satoru whispered, his breath ghosting over the nape of your neck as he spoke. With a deep breath, you attempted to steady your nerves, to push aside the awareness of Satoru's proximity and the curious gaze of Sukuna. 
You pulled back the cue, your eyes locked on the target, and with a push, sent the cue ball rolling across the table. The crack of the balls colliding echoed through the room. A stripe sank into a corner pocket.
"Well done." Satoru stepped back to allow you space to straighten up, yet his hand remained on the small of your back. "See, you're a natural."
"Don't let him fool you. He's just happy to have found someone who'll listen to him ramble about angles and force," Sukuna's voice cut in. 
Satoru laughed. "Maybe, but it seems to be working."
Sukuna pushed off the wall. "Watch and learn, kids." He set aside his glass of liquor and made his way over to the table.
Beside you, Satoru pulled you close, his arm casually wrapped around your shoulders. 
It felt oddly normal.
Oddly normal — the way his arm was around you, the way you shared a laugh with an old friend of his, the way the world's expectations drifted into insignificance. 
It was easy, in those moments, to forget the roles you each played in the outside world. Here, you were just two people, enjoying the company of each other.
The cue slid smoothly between Sukuna's fingers as he took aim. The shot was clean, the ball rolling into the pocket with a satisfying thud. "That's how it's done," he declared, turning to face you and Satoru, a broad grin on his face.
"Not bad, Sukuna. But you're not the only one with skills here," Satoru quipped. He drew you closer for a fleeting kiss on your temple before pushing away to snatch the cue from Sukuna's grip.
It all felt oddly normal.
As the game wound down and it was once again your turn at the table. You focused on lining up your shot, the cue stick feeling more familiar in your hands now. Satoru stepped back to give you space, joining Sukuna at the side of the billiard table.
"Didn't think you'd ever fuck a student," Sukuna said, in a not so low tone.
"Shut it Sukuna. She can hear you."
Yeah. You could hear him.
"You're not even denying it?" Sukuna pressed.
You could feel their eyes on you as you took your shot, the balls clattering against each other but not quite finding their way into the pockets.
"We're both adults," Satoru replied.
"Is that why you let her do surgery with you?" Sukuna insinuated with a smirk. "Is she that good in bed?"
You hated him.
He knew you could hear him. 
He was deliberately provoking you.
"You should stop drinking, Sukuna." Satoru put a hand on Sukuna's shoulder. He then moved closer to you. "Don't take him seriously," he said, gently taking the cue from your hands to take his turn. "He doesn't know when to stop."
Oh really?
You turned to meet Sukuna's gaze. He leaned back casually against the edge of the table. His gaze fixed on you as he took a sip from his drink. The casual flick of his wrist and the confident tilt of his head suggested a man used to getting his way.
"So, Sukuna," you started. "Why have you stepped back from surgery? Couldn't keep up, or were you just not cut out for it?"
Satoru's eyebrows shot up, a mix of surprise and amusement flickering across his face. Sukuna paused, his drink halfway to his mouth. A low chuckle escaped him.
"Didn't know you had such a sharp tongue," Sukuna remarked, his grin broad and unfazed. "For your information, Satoru and I were pretty much equal."
"Yet, here you are, no longer in the operating room. Couldn't handle the competition?"
Sukuna leaned forward, placing his drink on the table with deliberate slowness. "Competition?" he echoed, a trace of amusement in his voice. "Let me correct that for you. I was the one setting the pace. Satoru here was always two steps behind, trying to catch up."
Satoru scoffed. "If by 'setting the pace' you mean rushing into things without thinking them through, then sure, you were the leader."
"Ah, but where's the fun without a little risk?" Sukuna said.
You tilted your head. "And not missing the risk? Or did the thrill get too much for you?"
"The thrill, dear, never gets too much for me. It's just that I found a bigger game to play. One where the stakes are higher, and the victories, more satisfying. Running a university, shaping the future of medicine — that's where the real power lies."
You stepped closer to him. "So, this is all about power for you? Need to compensate for shortcomings elsewhere?" Without breaking eye contact, you picked up Sukuna's drink, taking a measured sip. "Or could it be that you seek power as a convenient escape from the harsh truth of your own irrelevance in the field of medical research?"
Sukuna's eyes traced over your form, a smirk playing on his lips. "Oh, I see why you like her, Toru."
"Only just realizing that now?" Satoru quipped with a smirk.
Sukuna retrieved the glass from your grasp, his fingers brushing against yours, and took a sip himself. "I'm quite intrigued to hear that lecture of yours."
"Make sure to listen well, you might learn a thing or two. After all, neurosurgery evolves rapidly, and you've been out of the game for quite some time."
Satoru approached you. "Don't tear him apart completely, sweetheart."
"Don't worry, Toru. I can handle a bit of attitude," Sukuna shot back with a grin.
As the evening progressed, the alcohol flowed freely, mostly from Sukuna's glass but Satoru didn't shy away either. You found yourself the only sober one left, Sukuna's teasing escalating in equal measure with his alcohol intake.
Sukuna draped an arm around your shoulder, the scent of alcohol clear as he spoke. "This man here used to be the life of every party," he pointed with his finger to Satoru, "there wasn't a dare he wouldn't take or a line he wouldn't cross. Isn't that right, Toru?"
"Those were different times," Satoru, who had been lining up his shot, paused, offering a tight-lipped smile. "We were just kids doing stupid things."
"But they're unforgettable," Sukuna persisted. "Especially that one night you decided to break the university record for the most girls fucked in a single night. How many was it again?"
The air thickened with tension, Sukuna's provocations cutting deeper with each word.
Why was he doing this?
It felt like Sukuna was intentionally trying to provoke you.
"Maybe we should get back to the game, Sukuna. Your shot," Satoru said.
But Sukuna was relentless. "Oh, but the best parts are yet to come. Like your experimental phase. How many substances did you try to 'expand your mind'? Always on the lookout for the next high, weren't you?"
Wait. 
Sukuna knew too? 
Why hadn't Satoru mentioned any of this to you? 
You felt sick—a tight knot forming in your stomach. You glanced at Satoru, noting the tension in his jaw.
"Sukuna, that's enough," Satoru's voice held a warning edge.
"What? I'm just reminiscing about the good old days," Sukuna said, his tone falsely innocent. "Unless... there are parts of your past you're not so proud of?"
You felt a chill run down your spine.
The way Sukuna wielded these stories like weapons, the ease with which he stripped bare Satoru's vulnerabilities, was nothing short of cruel.
You watched the scene unfold before your eyes. Witnessing. Unable to say anything. Perhaps a part of you wanted to hear it. Hear what Satoru had done in his past. Hear every dirty secret of the man you had fallen for, as you looked into his beautiful blue eyes.
You could see the strain in Satoru's posture, the effort it took for him to maintain his composure. It was clear that Sukuna's words had struck a nerve, peeling back layers of Satoru's past he had hoped to keep hidden.
Satoru set his pool cue down with more force than necessary. "Sukuna, what are you trying to do here? We all have things in our past we'd rather leave there. I'm no exception. But I've moved on. I suggest you do the same."
Sukuna raised an eyebrow, unfazed. "Oh, come on, Toru. It's not like you to shy away from who you are. Or has this precious student of yours made you forget who you really are?" His grip on your shoulder tightened, the pressure suffocating.
You felt awful. Every point of contact with Sukuna felt awful. Dirty.
You unwound from Sukuna's hold. "It's late, I'll go to my room."
As you started to walk away, Satoru's hand wrapped around your wrist, stopping you. "Please, wait. Don't leave."
"Satoru, I can't just stand here while he taunts you for his own amusement, and you shouldn't either. Come with me."
"He's just messing around. It's been ages since we've been together."
"Don't you see? He's a bad influence, Satoru. It's time to call it a night, for both of us."
Satoru sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Sukuna's an old friend. Our history is complicated, but he's not all bad."
"Are you really that blind?" you questioned, freeing yourself from his grip. "Satoru, you should get some rest. We have a lecture tomorrow." With that, you turned and left the bar, leaving Satoru and Sukuna alone in the bar.
You had enough for the night.
─── ·✧· ───
You couldn't sleep.
You tossed and turned in your bed over and over, but sleep eluded you.
The hotel's corridors remained quiet. You didn't hear any sign of Satoru's return.
The digital clock on your bedside table had just flickered to 2:47 AM when you heard soft knocking on your door. Barefoot, you crossed the room, the carpet cool under your feet. You were wearing only a loose shirt and underwear as you opened the door.
Satoru stood before you,  a hand bracing against the doorframe. His hair was disheveled, clothes rumpled. The hallway light cast deep shadows over his face, accentuating the tiredness in his eyes and the unusual pallor of his skin.
Your heart tightened at the sight.
"Satoru, what's—"
"I... I need to be with you," he barely whispered, the strain evident in his voice. 
You reached out, your fingers lightly caressing his face, pushing back the damp strands of hair from his forehead. "What happened, Satoru? Did you—"
"No," he cut in hastily, straightening a bit to meet your gaze more directly. "I didn't take anything. It's just—," he paused, his brows furrowed as he glanced away, "I wanted to so damn hard. I needed it so damn hard, to feel...better."
"Come inside," you said, stepping aside to let him into your room, closing the door with a quiet click behind him.
He moved hesitantly, as though unsure of his welcome. But you urged him inward. He walked into your hotel room, where he sat down onto the bed, his head in his hands.
"It's bad," he admitted after a moment, his voice muffled. "I thought I could manage it, but..."
You approached him, drawing him into an embrace where his head rested against your stomach, your fingers gently combing through his hair. "Talk to me. What happened?"
"Sukuna knows how to push all the wrong buttons." A bitter laugh escaped him. "I should have known better. It just brought everything back. The urge, the need—it's clawing at me."
"But you didn't give in," you said. "That's what matters."
"Does it? Because right now, it feels like I'm losing my mind."
"You're not losing your mind."
His gaze lifted to meet yours, there was a raw vulnerability in his eyes that stole the air from your lungs. It was fear — fear of addiction, fear of a possible relapse and, perhaps most of all, fear of losing you. "I'm sorry, I should have left with you. I shouldn't have let you go. I should have punched Sukuna in the face for what he said to you."
"It's okay. Sukuna is part of your past, it's not easy to cut ties with someone who's been important in your life. I get it. But still, you're stupid."
"Don't be so understanding. Hate me at least a little bit." 
Yeah, you were angry with him, angry that he didn't see that Sukuna was an asshole, that he deliberately tried to rile him you and Satoru up for his own sick amusement. 
But how could you be angry with him now? 
Not when he was so vulnerable.
Not when you could feel the slight trembling in his body.
Not when you could literally feel his craving to get high.
But he didn't. He resisted. Because he promised you to.
Satoru let out a weary sigh, his shoulders slumping. "I don't want to drag you into this mess. You deserve so much more than someone who can't even get his act together."
"But that's not for you to decide," you said. "I'm here, Satoru, because I want to be. Because I care about you. Through struggles and all."
"Even after what Sukuna said about me?"
"Are you asking me if I find you being a whore in your university days worse than you being an addict?" You arched an eyebrow. "Satoru, if I were easily deterred, I would have left the first time I found you high. I think we're past the point where anything about you could scare me away."
Satoru's laughter held a touch of bitterness as he rested his head against your stomach again. His hands trailed up your back, fingers tracing delicate patterns along your spine, sending shivers coursing through your body. "I don't deserve you."
"You're right, you really don't."
In one swift motion, he lifted your shirt, his warm breath cascading over your bare skin. His lips followed suit, planting tender kisses along the base of your ribcage, gradually traversing across your stomach. Each gentle touch elicited a soft sigh from you.
"God, you're beautiful," he murmured, every word a caress against your skin. "Every inch of you is perfect."
You gazed down at him. "Satoru, what—"
His tongue darted out to lick and kiss the contours of your waist, each movement deliberate and unhurried. Each brush of his lips sent a wave of yearning through you, forcing your body to arch towards him, each touch a silent plea for more.
"I know I'm being selfish," he whispered, his hands finding their place on your hips, drawing you closer to him. "But fuck, I need you now."
He wanted to stop, dear reader. He really did. 
He felt awful. But he couldn't. Simply couldn't. 
He needed you. 
Needed you like air. 
Needed you like drugs.
And you obliged.
Without hesitation, you gently pushed him back and straddled him. His arms enveloped you, pulling you close as you leaned in to capture his lips. 
His lips tasted like alcohol — they tasted like him.
His lips moved slowly and deliberately at first, tracing the contours of yours as if mapping out every curve. Then, his kiss became more urgent, more demanding. Tongue danced with tongue, awakening a hunger that neither of you could ignore.
"Are you sure about this?" he murmured between kisses, his breath warm against your skin.
"Yes," you responded equally breathlessly.
He released your lips, trailing tender kisses down the side of your neck. His hands wandered under your shirt, caressing the smooth skin of your waist and back.
He kissed down to the base of your neck, where your collarbones met. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes as though committing your scent to memory. Then he traced the delicate line of your bone structure with his tongue, making you shiver.
You closed your eyes and let out a soft moan, surrendering entirely to him.
You began to grind against him, savoring the rough texture of his pants against your bare skin. Your fingers entwined in his hair as you leaned further into him, feeling his arousal pressing against you. You wanted him inside you, needed him to claim you completely.
He tilted his head back, strained moans escaping his throat—fuck, he was so hot when he moaned. You could feel his muscles tense, his breath hitching with every subtle shift of your hips. You felt him growing harder, his arousal swelling against your core.
He plunged forward once more, planting a wet, open-mouthed kiss right on the hollow of her throat. The suddenness of the move left you breathless. You clutched his shoulders tightly, trying to ground yourself in the rising tide of longing.
Slowly, he worked his way back up your neck, each kiss more intense than the last. By the time his lips returned to yours, you were panting heavily, your mind spinning with need. 
"God, I want you so badly right now," he muttered hoarsely, his eyes fixed on your parted lips. 
"Then fuck me already," you replied boldly, your heart pounding in your ears. 
He grinned wickedly.
Without breaking stride, he let himself fall onto the bed behind him and dragged you with him. He pushed you up onto him. His hands roamed over your thighs as he guided you to sit on his face.
Satoru wasted no time. He pushed your underwear aside with one hand, the other hand held you in place, fingers digging into your waist. Then his tongue darted forth to claim you, teasing you, causing you to gasp aloud. 
Savoring your initial reaction, he continued to tease you, licking your clit with expert precision. His tongue plunged deep into your core, tracing circles around your clit before flickering rapidly across its tip.
He slid one finger inside you, curling it upward to press directly against the inner wall of you. As he continued to thrust into you, you moaned, feeling your walls tighten around him in response. "You taste so good, I can't get enough of you," he purred, adding another finger as you cried out.
He began to move his fingers in a steady rhythm, driving himself deeper and harder into your core. Your legs began to tremble, overwhelmed by the sensation of his fingers stroking your insides as his tongue continued to lick and suck your sensitive clit.
"Yes, right there...oh God!" You cried out as he hit all the right spots. Somehow that man seemed to perfectly understand precisely what you needed to push you beyond the point of mere pleasure and into the realm of wild, unbridled ecstasy.
"Come for me, beautiful," he urged, his warm breath against your skin drawing another moan from you. "Give yourself up to me completely."
Between his fingers and his talented tongue, you quickly approached a fever pitch. You cried out his name as the tension finally broke. Satoru pushed his fingers deeper into you than ever before, enjoying the way your walls contracted around him as you rode out your orgasm.
Breathless, you tried to regain your composure as Satoru continued to lazily lick your clit, making your legs twitch. "You get so fucking tight when you come," he said, then meticulously licked you all up and placed a final kiss on your clit.
You let yourself fall to the side of him. He rolled over to be on top of you in an instant. He wiped his mouth with the flat of his hand before his lips found yours again. The taste of you still lingered on his lips as Satoru deepened the kiss.
His hand reached up and gripped the side of your throat tightly, adding just enough pressure to make you moan into the kiss. Your hands began to move restlessly across his chest, clutching his shirt and pulling him closer.
You couldn't help but notice the way his shirt hugged his broad shoulders, the way his hair fell in soft strands around his face. Then you reached out and unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the hard muscles of his torso underneath.
"God, you drive me wild," he rasped, reaching out to stroke the inside of your parted thighs. "The sight of you alone makes me insane." His lips brushed against your neck, trailing kisses along the length of you throat.
Your hands slid down, fingers deftly working at the buckles of his belt. "Take me, Satoru. Don't hold back. Use me however you need me," you whispered as you impatiently tugged at the leather strap.
"Don't say that." Satoru's eyes darkened as he watched you work at his belt, his fingers trembling slightly. When the belt finally came loose, you pushed at his pants, urging them downward until they pooled around his knees.
"Why?" you breathed, your gaze locked with his.
"Because I can't hold back if you say things like that."
"I don't want you to hold back. I want to feel every inch of you inside me, Satoru. Now. Please." With that, you leaned in, capturing his lips in a searing kiss, your body craving his heat and his touch.
At your words, Satoru felt a primal surge course through his veins. You offered yourself to him willingly, with no reservations whatsoever. It was an invitation he couldn't refuse — one that left him reeling with desire. He stripped off the rest of his clothes, leaving only his bare skin exposed.
Satoru grabbed you by the waist and rolled you over, pulling your underwear down.
You gasped as his hands slid down your back, caressing the smooth skin of your back before he lifted you just enough to be at perfect angle to him. You moaned softly, pressing against him as he positioned himself behind you.
He paused for a second, savoring the sight of you before him, the one who had captured his heart and soul in such a short time. It still didn't seem real — that someone like you would choose to be with someone like him.
You gasped as he started to push inside you, stretching you slowly but surely with each inch. As he sank deeper into you, he knew that he would do everything in his power to make you happy, to protect you, to love you.
But right now he only wanted to fuck you like you deserved it.
He grabbed onto your waist, pulling you back against him so he could delve even further into your depths. You moaned as he began to thrust into you, deep and hard, filling you completely. Each time he pulled out almost completely, before he slammed into you again and again.
Your head fell forward, your hair cascading down your face. Each time Satoru pushed deeper into you, low moans escaped his parted lips, his head thrown back. "You feel so good...so right..."
You closed your eyes, your fingers digging into the crisp white sheets below you as Satoru moved behind you. Your senses were on fire, every nerve ending ablaze with the intensity of his touch as you felt Satoru's fingers digging deeply into your skin, leaving bruises that would linger long after tonight was over.
Satoru's hands then moved up your chest underneath your shirt, pulling you close and up against his muscular frame. You're back against his chest as he continued to thrust deeper and deeper into you. His other hand found your throat, grabbing it tightly as you arched into him. His breath hot against your neck as he moaned into your ear.
He quickened his pace, each thrust more fervent than the last. It was almost too much. Sill, you craved more — needed more. "Please, Satoru. Make me yours."
He obeyed, slamming into you with renewed force, pushing you harder and faster toward your orgasm. Every inch of your being focused solely on the sensation of his thick shaft filling you, making you feel alive in a way you never thought possible. 
As Satoru continued to move inside you, you felt his hand reach up, parting your lips. Your heart skipped a beat as he slid two fingers into your mouth, pushing them deep inside. You gasped slightly, the sensation electric as he thrust his fingers into your mouth.
You moaned loudly, your head falling back as you surrendered completely to his will. In that moment, nothing else existed outside of the two of you. You didn't care if anyone would hear you. All that mattered was the overwhelming rush that pulsed through you, threatening to consume you whole.
With a sudden force, Satoru withdrew his fingers and pushed you forward, forcing you down on all fours. He wrapped his hand in your hair and yanked your head back sharply, causing you to cry out.
Without hesitation or mercy, he drove himself inside you, pain and pleasure melded seamlessly together. His hips pumped fiercely, pounding into you with an intensity that took your breath away. He gripped your hair even tighter, pushing you further and further towards the edge.
Your walls clenched tightly around him, desperate for release. And when you finally reached your peak, your cries blended seamlessly with his own moans. Satoru's body convulsed with the intensity of his climax as he released inside you. You could feel his muscles contract with each pulse of his ejaculation.
As you both tried to regain your composure and your breathing steadied, Satoru leaned in close, his warm breath caressing your skin. "How do I even deserve you," he whispered huskily.
You turned your head to meet his gaze. "Are you feeling better now?" you asked, the words slipping awkwardly from your lips as you felt a trail of fluid running down your inner thigh.
He leaned in closer, pressing a gentle kiss on your back before pulling out of you, wincing slightly as he did so. Satoru then collapsed next to you, one arm flung over his forehead, the other behind his head. 
Despite his heavy breathing and the slight furrow in his brows, a tender smile graced his features, the dimples on his cheeks deepening. "Yeah," he exhaled with a long sigh. "I feel fucking great."
Turning on his side to face you, his features were illuminated by the soft moonlight filtering through the window. He tenderly brushed a lock of hair from your forehead, tracing its path down to your cheekbone, he caressed your skin with utmost tenderness.
"Do you want to know what I thought when I first saw you?"
"What?"
"I thought, this woman knows her way around a challenging aneurysm like no one I've ever seen.'" His hand lingered on your cheek, the warmth of his touch caressing your skin. "It was... captivating to say the least. And beyond that, you were absolutely breathtaking."
"Captivating or arrogant to challenge you like that?"
He chuckled. "A bit arrogant, perhaps." His smile broadened. "Yet, I remember thinking, this woman is going to be the end of me.'"
"You're just saying that because you're flooded with oxytocin right now."
"No, it's the truth." He leaned in closer, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, a moment so full of emotion it seemed to pause time. "You are everything I've ever wanted," he whispered, affirming his words with another kiss.
"And I'm definitely going to talk to Sukuna tomorrow," he added.
"You don't have to. I'm a big girl, Satoru. I can defend myself."
"Yeah, I've seen that," he laughed.
Glancing at the clock, you sighed. "We should try to catch some sleep. We've got that lecture in like five hours."
"Sleep sounds good." Satoru shifted and pulled you closer into his embrace. You nestled into his arms, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest. The warmth of his body enveloped you, soothing the lingering tension of the night.
As you drifted into a peaceful slumber, wrapped in each other's embrace, you knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, you would face them together.
─── ·✧· ───
<- prev chapter | next chapter ->
x a/n:  to be honest, i don't really like this chapter myself, but i've been editing forever, so i'll just post it now and hope i can make up for it in the next one. kinda afraid that satoru comes off like an asshole in this chapter, but he's just having a bad withdrawal day D: he'll protect our dear reader again in the next chapter, as he should! ♡
🏷️ @sad-darksoul @aerithsthingss @mylovelessnightmare @bbyxxm @musababy @neuviloved @ykehqqy @hexrts-anatomy @fvsm4x @tw0fvced @heijihattorisgf @sadmonke @thatsopanu @sirencholia @sugurusdiscordmoderator @erwinslut @shervinss @certainlysyko @mechalily @purplehallow11
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tlbodine · 5 months
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Stuck? Try junebugging.
I don't know who needs to hear this, but we're 5 days into nanowrimo so maybe this will be helpful.
Do you want the safety and surety of knowing what happens next in your story but can't stick to an outline? Does knowing in advance what will happen suck the joy out of discovery writing? Do you try to wing it through plots but get tangled in plot holes or have a story that runs out of steam because you can't figure out what went wrong? Are you at your most creative when you have a little bit of guidance? Do you tend to under-write? Do you get ideas in your head for random scenes and snippets that drop from the sky without context?
If any of these apply to you, junebugging a draft might be for you!
What Is Junebugging?
Since you're on Tumblr, you might already be familiar with the concept of junebugging as it relates to cleaning. If not -- I think the idea was first introduced to me by @jumpingjacktrash.
The basic idea is that you tackle cleaning by way of controlled chaos. You pick a specific area you want to focus on, like your kitchen sink, and then wander off to deal with other things as they occur to you, but always returning back to that area. You end up cleaning a little bit at a time in an order that may not make sense to an outsider but which keeps you from getting overwhelmed and discouraged.
How Does Junebugging Work in Writing?
OK, so that's great, but how does this work with writing? Well. In my case, the general idea is to jump between writing linearly, outlining, and writing out of order. It usually looks something like:
Start free-writing a scene, feeling my way through it and enjoying the discovery process.
Thinking, ok, now I have this scene, did anything need to happen to lead up to it? Do I need to go back and add some foreshadowing? Does this scene set anything up that needs to be paid off? And then jump forward/back to make those adjustments.
I'll usually have a bunch of disconnected ideas of ideas that have popped into my head, so I'll write those down in a list somewhere and then try to figure out what goes in between them and what order it goes in.
I'll write what I call "micro-scenes" which is where I'll just sketch out a few essential elements of what's going on without worrying too much about details, description, etc. -- just he did this, she said that, the setting was this, real bare-bones script. Then I can come back through and flesh out each of those microscenes into an actual scene later.
Got a story that has a complex structure? No problem. Write through each storyline one at a time and then chop them up and weave them together afterward. Write all the B plot scenes first then come back through to do A plot and C plot. Move the pieces around like legos. No one ever has to know.
This method works for me because I can't "decide" story elements in advance. I have never been able to just sit down and "figure out" what happens in a story beyond a couple steps ahead -- I have to discovery-write my way forward. But at the same time, that gets really daunting. So I zoom forward with micro-scenes, roughing out the beats in the most bare-bones way possible, then when I run out of clear vision for what happens next I backtrack, flesh out those scenes, build in connective tissue, etc. and by then I will probably find more inspiration to jump forward.
It's basically folding drafting, outlining, and revising all together into a single phase of writing, which is chaotic and goes against everything people teach you, but if it works? then it fuckin works.
Anyway, sorry for the jumbled-up post, I'm dashing this off quickly while I heat up a pizza and I'm about to dive back into my WIP -- but I hope this was a little helpful. If nothing else, take this as my blanket permission that it's 100% OK to jump around, write out of order, write messy, outline sometimes, pants sometimes, and do whatever else it takes just to get through the story. You've got this. Good luck.
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didosddinfo · 5 months
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The Basics of DID/OSDD
DID, or Dissociative Identity Disorder, is a trauma-caused disorder that forms in early childhood, anywhere before the age of 9 (cutoff age is debated but the typical range is before age 6-9, but some people extend it to 10 because that's the typical age where your identity starts forming independant of your primary caregivers)
Most of the established and spread facts about DID come from the Theory of Structural Dissociation (TOSD)
Here's a good resource explaining The TOSD:
To sum things up, there are levels of dissociation that can occur, and disorders that fall into each level. The lowest end of this spectrum is PTSD, and the highest is DID. Here's a graphic of those levels, and I'll go into each disorder briefly:
Tumblr media
Altered States
Altered states are normal, and likely to occur in everyone at some point. No trauma is required to cause these states. Altered states include normal daydreaming (not including MaDD which is disordered)
Primary Dissociation
Primary Dissociation occurs in people with PTSD. This presents as having one ANP (Apparantly Normal Part, aka you) and one EP (Emotional Part, which occurs when having PTSD flashbacks)
This level is specifically for single-event PTSD, as C-PTSD falls under the next level:
Secondary Dissociation
Complex-PTSD falls under this level because of the occurance of multiple EPs, but still one ANP. These EPs are for a myriad of traumas a person with C-PTSD has experienced.
Dissociative Disorders
This is where we start touching on systems. This level includes OSDD and UDD.
OSDD (Otherwise Specified Dissociative Disorder) is a bit of an umbrella disorder, and it encapsulates multiple different types of OSDD. The one you've most likely heard of is OSDD1b, but I'll go into all of them.
OSDD1a is a disorder in which a person has multiple identity states but they lack distinction. They have intense enough amnesia to qualify for DID, but their identity states aren't differentiated enough to fully qualify for DID. This can sometimes (not always, of course) present as multiple identity states that are all one person, just at different ages when trauma happened.
OSDD1b is a disorder in which a person has multiple identity states that qualify for DID, but have no amnesia. A common misconception is that to be diagnosed with DID, you have to have blackout amnesia (will explain amnesia types later in the post), but any type of amnesia can qualify. OSDD1b is for systems who have absolutely no amnesia.
OSDD2 is a disorder in which there are identity disturbances and dissociation caused by brainwashing, torture, cults, and things of that sort. From what I understand, OSDD2 occurs after the cutoff age of DID or OSDD1, hence why this disorder does not cause a system.
OSDD3 seems to be a temporary diagnosis for symptoms of dissociation, derealization, depersonalization, amnesia, sudden loss of motor skills, ect for less than one month, occuring directly after a traumatic event. If the symptoms persist after this one month period, another diagnosis may be looked at.
OSDD-4 is a disorder in which people experience dissociative trances that do not have any known cause. People slip in and out of these trance states, often unaware of their environment while in them, and may "come to" confused and with amnesia from their time in the trance state.
And lastly, UDD. UDD, or Unspecified Dissociative Disorder, is exactly as it sounds. It's a catchall diagnosis for when a dissociative disorder is present, but it's unknown exactly which one. This can include systems, or it can include other dissociative disorders.
Tertiary Dissociation
Teritary Dissociation is what includes DID, C-DID, and HC-DID.
DID is the disorder we are all reading this post for. It is a disorder that causes multiple identity states that are distinctly different, called alters (or other terms depending on the system's comfort, such as headmates or sysmates), and amnesia between these identity states.
C-DID is a community term which stands for Complex DID. It is synonymous with Polyfragmented DID; they both mean the same thing. C-DID is characterized by a more complex system structure and the presence of many fragments, occuring because of more complex and longterm trauma that starts before the age of 5 (so earlier than the DID cutoff), and typically continues long after the system forms. There are many signs of polyfragmentation in a system, but the most siginifigant are the earlier onset of trauma, presence of many fragments, and more complex internal structure.
HC-DID is another community term which stands for Highly Complex DID. This term is synonymous with programmed systems/RAMCOA systems. These systems formed because of childhood trauma involving Mind Control (the MC of RAMCOA), aka programming. I won't go too in-depth on HC-DID systems, because I'm not confident in my knowledge at this time. However a great blog I can recommend for anyone wanting to learn more is @cultishhellvent
Misc.
You might have noticed at the top of the graphic I included earlier a little blurb about DPDR, or Depersonalization Derealization Disorder. This is a dissociative disorder characterized by, well, persistant depersonalization and derealization. This disorder cannot co-occur alongside DID, but DID can cause depersonalization and derealization. The DPDR diagnosis is for those who don't have another dissociative disorder like DID, but do experience those specific symptoms of depersonalization and derealization.
P-DID, or Partial DID, is a version of DID in which one alter is almost always fronting. Other alters are present, and may front in specific situations, but typically the one alter will stay at front and other alters will come and go from co-con or co-front.
Things To Know About Systems
So here is a bunch of catagories of info about systems that I feel are necessary to know if you're looking to know the basics.
Amnesia Types
Blackout Amnesia is amnesia that is full and total. Periods of blackout amnesia will be fully gone from the person's memory. However, contrary to popular belief, blackout amnesia does not entail literally 'blacking out' and 'waking up' at a later time. It simply means the memories from a time period are totally and utterly gone and inaccessable to you.
Greyout Amnesia has two typical definitions. The first is amnesia that slowly occurs as time goes on, like slowly forgetting the days as you pass them, at a faster rate than would be considered typical for those without a dissociative disorder. The second definition is similar to blackout amnesia, except some memories can be retained. So you may not fully remember an event you went to last week, but you might be able to recall a few blips of major things that took place. Most detail is usually lost.
Emotional Amnesia is when you remember the actual event or time frame, but none of the emotions attached to it. This usually presents as being able to remember a traumatic event, but feeling numb or disconnected to it, or like it happened to someone else.
And something important to keep in mind is that these amnesia types are not hard rules, and amnesia is often somewhere between these three labels.
Innerworlds
Innerworlds, or headspaces, are internal worlds in which alters can go when they aren't fronting (fronting meaning to be in control of the body)
Not all systems have innerworlds, and many systems with Aphantasia (when you can't visualize) simply don't have the ability to create them.
Innerworlds are often created unintentionally as the system grows up, but they can be intentionally created and that can be a beneficial process to the system.
Alter Roles
Alter roles are labels systems can assign to their alters to describe what role they play in the system's life. Some common ones include Host (primary fronter), Protector (self-explanitory), Persecutor (causes the system harm for whatever reason), Traumaholder (alters who hold trauma), and Littles (child alters)
These roles are not hard set, they are simply labels to help explain and put words to what certain alters' jobs in the system may be. And, not all alters have a discernable role.
Introjects
Introjects are alters who form based on an existing identity. This is common in fragments, since they aren't as fully formed, but can of course also happen in fully formed alters.
There are two main catagories of introjects, however many people like to get specific with the terms they use.
Fictives are introjects of fictional characters. This can be from visual media, books, OCs, ect.
Factives are introjects of real people. This can be from friends, abusers, family, celebrities, ect.
Introjects are NOT the same as the thing they are sourced in. They are their own separate people, and should be treated as such.
One of the specific terms I mentioned could be songtives (introjects from songs). I wanted to briefly mention that as an example of the specific terms systems may use.
Co-Con/Co-Front
Co-con, or co-conciousness, is when two or more alters are present at the front. This is usually used to describe one alter fronting, with one or more other alters hanging out nearby and talking occasionally.
Co-front, or co-fronting, is when two or more alters are sharing the front together fully. Think of two people trying to drive the same car at once.
I think I've covered everything I wanted to cover. If I missed anything, said anything incorrect, or you'd like something added please feel free to send an ask or comment/reblog.
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drchucktingle · 2 months
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Good day Dr. Tingle. I haven't read your stories, but I've known about you from afar in this website for a while. Your recent post about separating Ideas and Message is very similar to how I teach a class. I wanted to ask you, if you could share some of your Messages, in whichever structure/length/complexity you think about them before writing, to have some real world examples to show in class.
Personally I tend to simplify and shorten my messages as much as possible, like "everyone deserves forgiveness" for example, so that I can permeate it throughout the story, and so that anyone experiencing the story can come to a similarish conclusion.
I'm curious as to how your Messages look like inside your head, during the creative process. Not the refined versions used for marketing and sales and stuff.
Thank you!
sure buckaroo.
high concept idea of the book STRAIGHT was this: zombie apocalypse story but the rage only effects straight cis people (there is also a second high concept idea in there which is: what if zombie plague only happened one day a year? how would culture handle this politically and otherwise?)
so i had this idea that i thought was good, but before i can write it i think 'well what do i want to SAY about this? what am i FEELING?'
and i realized that i was a little torn about how to write this story because of the one day a year thing. when is it okay to fight back? can you hurt a zombie if it turns back into a person the next day? is that right or wrong? and WHEN is it right or wrong? what situations?
then i realized that with the metaphor of this story what i was really asking was something bigger: why is it up to the victims (in this case queer buckaroos) to be forced to make these decisions? marginalized groups have TWO kinds of violations done to them, the first is the obvious act of violation, but the second is that they are forced to use their time and mental space and emotional tolerance to learn how to HANDLE the first violation in an 'acceptable way'
so THAT became my message. if you want to know how i feel about these questions you can read STRAIGHT and find out.
CAMP DAMASCUS high concept idea was (SPOILERS IF YOU HAVE NOT READ CAMP DAMASCUS STOP READING HERE) what if the church really DID decide the ends justify the means and instead of stopping demonic possession they were inflicting demonic possession to counter sinful acts.
but that is not the message of the book. that is just the idea. if i just had that idea i would not write it, but as things evolved i realized WHAT i wanted to say with this story
in this situation WHO is the force of 'evil'? would it be the demons? would it be the possessed? or would it be the SYSTEM AND MENTALITY that was creating this situation in the first place? so the book sets out the answer this question and express the conclusion that ive made for myself
i also noticed that many churches who are anti gay have a sort of infantilizing trot with how they handle their young buckaroos. this idea that gay feelings will just go away if they are ignored and that they can almost keep young queer buckaroos from ever aging into fully realized adults. obviously i think this is WRONG and so fighting back against this mentality became part of the message as well, and that informed most of the metaphor and symbolism in the book.
it is important to keep in mind that sometimes the message can change. as the book trots along i am LEARNING myself, working out these thoughts on the page and coming to a conclusion of my own. this is actually VERY true of BURY YOUR GAYS, which is probably most autobiographical thing i have written. i will save talking about that MESSAGE and HIGH CONCEPT for after book is out though
EDIT FOR CLARITY OF MY WAY:
when i say i write MESSAGE FIRST that does not mean i think of the message first in TIME (although that does happen sometimes) it means the message is the most important thing over plot or characters or anything like that (although those are important too). it means that i write with message as my north star, which is rare, but it is how i make art
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