stark-raving-madd

[stark-raving-madd]

I love it when my paras do bad shit and I’m like “omg I hope their victims are okay!!” Like girl you’re the one who made them do it-

[stark-raving-madd]

“I have maladaptive daydreaming”

Kinda sad, implies that something sucky caused you to choose this coping mechanism, boring

“I am haunted by visions of an alternate reality”

Cool, mysterious, unique, makes you sound like some kind of sci-fi witch or wizard

[stark-raving-madd]

I should talk more about my paras actually. They’re so neat I’m just anxious about it all the damn time

[stark-raving-madd]

I hate having to explain to people that I have madd bc I sound so insane whenever I do. It just sounds like I’m making shit up bro I promise I’m not I’m just shit at explaining anything 😭

[stark-raving-madd]

i’m so inconsistent with my activity here lmao hi guyssss

[stark-raving-madd]

"I'd destroy the world to protect you" but it's a parent/child relationship

[stark-raving-madd]

Does anyone else just randomly feel like they're annoying everyone around them and that they should just disappear for a while to give everyone else a break from their existence, or is that just me?

[stark-raving-madd]

On today's episode of am I actually aroace or has the maladaptive daydreaming just made me encapable of feeling attraction to real people

- 🌧

[stark-raving-madd]

True true! It would be a lot of work but I think it could be done.

…enough people like the madd rp server that it makes me actually wanna try and make one.

[stark-raving-madd]

bro. dude. a madd rp server would go so hard actually

[stark-raving-madd]

…enough people like the madd rp server that it makes me actually wanna try and make one.

[stark-raving-madd]

THATS SO COOL??

bro. dude. a madd rp server would go so hard actually

[stark-raving-madd]

[stark-raving-madd]

Maladaptive daydreaming and hating/having no sense of self is so hard like i feel like I see people go "Oh I daydream about myself with my favorite characters" I. I cannot do that. Instead my daydreams are concepts that play out around me and I have little to no control over it unless I'm FIGHTING to keep that shit down so hard I can't do anything else. I'm not there. A fantasy version of me isn't really there. It's just the characters I like/make.

It sucks sometimes bc like I feel like I'm outcast from the small group of outcasts almost? It's weird but the perfect place for that "You're faking it" little mind trap to nestle into its comfy little spot in my brain.

[stark-raving-madd]

echo

They say that she is Prometheus’.

But Chione cannot say for certain if she really is.

“It makes sense that you can scarcely recall it,” Boreas mused, taking a delicate sip of tea from the cup sitting in his hands. He looks thoughtful. “Your conception, I mean. Most creations are lucky to recall it at all. Your minds are often too feeble to grasp it.”

Mournfully, his eyes turn downcast from behind his white mask. “He has likely made you to abate the loss in his heart, after Epimetheus’ sudden return to the star. I’m not surprised that he's thrown himself headlong into nurturing you.”

She nods along, pretending to understand the words coming from his mouth despite knowing nothing at all. Chione hardly grasped words, language being foreign to her. Whenever she speaks, it comes out garbled and mangled, a mockery of the eloquent speech proper Etheiryians spoke. A reminder of her place among gods.

Chione lives in a paradise, in a land that had no parallel or equal in its majesty. Everyday, she marvels over creations and man alike, captivated by the world around her not unlike a newborn baby. No one should be surprised by her childlike demeanor- not unlike Meteion’s- when Chione hardly grasps others’ existence, let alone her own.

And how can she? How could she even begin to fathom her own existence at present when she cannot comprehend her own birth? Prometheus has yet to tell her during their daily travels, even when their hands are interlocked and he shows her their his world.

It’s hard for Chione to feel fully at ease anymore. She has always been fond of their travels, of seeing the world in all its glory and meeting its denizens, but her heart grows uneasy at night, when she's in bed tucked away in her own thoughts.

Perhaps she is Prometheus’ creation, a reflection of his will to have a partner on his travels. It would make sense, she does have a piece of his soul after all. But she isn’t sure. She can’t be sure. She doesn’t even remember her own birth. Is Chione even her name?

Prometheus listens to her worries sincerely, unlike anybody else. She voices them nearly every other day, and every other day he takes her hand once more, and gently abides her concerns.

“Fret not my dear,” Prometheus smiles down at her as he kneels to her height. At times, she feels like a petulant child that needs his coddling and comfort. “I understand your concern, but you need not have fear. Whether or not you can recall your origin is of no consequence. What matters is your present. Now come, let us go, there is still much for us to see and do.”

Dutifully, Chione bobs her head up and down, making a noise of discontentment as he adjusts her bone white mask, so very identical to his own, tucking both her hair and horns carefully beneath it. He chuckles, not missing the rather petulant look across her face as he attends to her. As his creation, there is of course a piece of his own eccentric nature within her. What he is not responsible for, is the growing chasm of emptiness within her heart.

Trailing behind Prometheus as he performs his daily duties is something Chione does without question. She doesn’t question much at all, other than the small inquiries about their society. Prometheus always answers her earnestly, always happy to teach her something, and he encourages her to be open with him.

He is an important man, she can tell, even with her short life and limited knowledge. People everywhere they went utter his title with awe and astonishment, hardly sparing her a glance. The word, the title Azem is treated with such reverence, and Chione understands why. He treats everyone around him with grace and humility, an air of fatherly affection about him. He nurtures the world and people in his life as much as he nurtures Chione, gingerly running a finger over the waxen petals of a flowering sykon, murmuring hushed words of encouragement to an child when they struggle to muster the best of their magicks, and gently sliding a slice of apple past Chione’s lips to feed her.

Wherever he went, Prometheus wanted everyone and everything to flourish in his wake, to see them blossom.

That includes Chione.

[stark-raving-madd]

Paracosms where there's two people who Need each other and should Never Be Seprated under any circumstances and then they are forced to be separated. That's the good shit

[stark-raving-madd]

bro. dude. a madd rp server would go so hard actually