#I feel like that’s such a specific thing to work through when it comes to reconciling masculinity ESPECIALLY if you’re someone who’s

[rosedom]

hey, hey, hey! i don’t know if you’ve done something like this before, but if you did, then you can just ignore it. so, um, insecure virgin ftm kuni, who’s specifically shy about being naked. then reader’s there, comforting him as he fucks the shit out of him, giving him all the pleasure he deserves. we basically give him comfort sex and say reassuring things to him. feel free to not acknowledge this if it isn’t up to your tastes!

it’s my first time requesting here, and i’ve read your works. you’re such a good writer, i swear.

"an unnamed player has invited WANDERER to play . . . my gaze is no threat unto you

✦ㅤㅤ 【 CW 】 dom!top!amab!reader, sub!bottom!ftm!wanderer, vaginal fingering, PIV sex, loss of virginity, reassurance + gratuitous praise, creaming + creampie, alluded aftercare .

A/N : this is so late . . but mmmmm this prompt was simply too sweet for me to pass up forever ><

"do you want to watch, [PLAYER]? press KEEP READING to spectate the match."

You close your eyes, and the shirt comes off; you know, now, that Kunikuzushi is left entirely bare, perched hovering as he is above your lap. It falls to the floor—somewhere—with an audible thud.

“Don’t look.”

You laugh, kind, and theatrically cover your—already closed, thank you—eyes. “I’m not!” 

He sighs. “I just—” he cuts himself off with a groan, arms falling from where they were perched on your shoulders. “Ugh.”

“What izzit, Kuni?” you ask, adjusting yourself so one hand stays firmly covering both of your eyes, letting the other be free to rest on the bare swell of his hip. Your fingers draw soothing circles across his skin. “Talk to me.”

“I—” He tries to scoot off of you, but your hands, quicker than your brain can catch up to them, both shoot out to grab his shoulders, to keep him from moving away; however, it only serves to trip him up, to make him fall into your lap. Your eyes remain shut, even as you feel his heat emanating against your equally bare thighs, your bare cock.

He reaches for your wrist, takes it in shaky hand; and you softly smile. “I’m sorry, Kuni,” you repeat, sincere—because even as you want him, in every way, shape, and form, you want only what he will give: if that means you cannot touch, then that is okay, too. 

“Sorry, sorry—” you stammer, and you try to correct it, to lift him back up, but—you’re running blind, here, and your hands miss the mark, groping down his flanks in pitch darkness. He makes an aborted sound in his throat, loud without your vision to counteract it.

His breath leaves him in a shaky exhale, slow, whistling through his teeth, before he falls limply into you. You can feel the flutter of his open eyes against you, eyelashes brushing your neck, before he squeezes them shut, squeezes out a quiet, “You can look.”

“But—”

“Do it before I change my mind.” 

Since you've reached his hips, finally, you give his soft skin a dutiful squeeze. “I’m not looking until you're absolutely sure, sweetheart.” 

Kuni groans again. “I’m sure,” he says, quietly, belying the way he acts so offended, so impatient. “Just look already.”

You tip your head to the side, eyes still stubbornly closed. You're about to say something else—probably another, Are you sure?—, but Kuni grabs your wrists and forces one hand down between his legs, forces your palm against his warm cunt. Your fingers, helpless to his strong grip, dip, just-so, into the give of his hole.

“Kuni—”

“I-if you won't look,” he mumbles, pressing his hips into your touch, “then you can at least please touch.” (It’s cute, how he thinks he's commanding when your finger is sinking into the first knuckle, his cock swollen against your palm.)

Your eyes flutter open, at that, gentle gaze falling on his flushed embarrassment. You only look at his face, and you shake your one hand out from his in order to cup his ruddy cheeks. “Kuni, baby, you're so pretty.”

“I—”

You cut off his words with a soft kiss, breath hot against his lips. “You're beautiful,” you say, louder, absolutely sure, “and you feel perfect.” Not look, not yet; instead, you only nudge your finger in deeper, slick n’ right to the root, and you delight in his choked off whimper.

(As the physical heft of him is heavy in your grasp, heavy on your palm, so, too, is the mental weight of knowing that this is his first: that you are seeing him, taking him, in a way that nobody has before.

It’d almost be a surprise, really, had you not known him so well.)

When Kuni’s body only melts into you, though, with no sign of resistance, of not wanting this—you finally allow your eyes to drop down, and—and—oh.

Your breath leaves you in a quick exhale, fingers stilled where they’re buried in deep. “You’re—you’re really, really beautiful, Kuni,” you murmur, breathless, and you’re not exaggerating—not at all, because really? Kunikuzushi is the most gorgeous man you have ever set your eyes upon.

He’s all pale, unblemished skin—that is, save for the sweet little birthmark below his eye. Even the mole is as pristine as the rest of him, silky and smooth as the skin of his cheek that your palm rests against. Speaking of his eyes—God. They’re this gorgeous, deep indigo, pretty as the midnight sky, and they’re looking away from you, abash.

“Look at me,” you murmur, the irony not lost on you (after all, was it not him only minutes ago, asking you to look at him?). “Let me look at those pretty eyes while I open you up for me, yeah?”

“Don’t be so crass—” he says, aghast, eyes turning sharply to you; yet for all he gripes, his eyes are molten, the pitch darkness of his pupils swallowing up the twilight of his irises. 

You merely curl your finger, once, to quiet him. “I’ll be as crass as I want, beautiful.” You ease a second, a third finger into him, working him open in gentle motions that make him bite his lip, make him cry out into the scant space between your faces. His hands fall, weakly gripping at your sides in a desperate bid to anchor himself against these new feelings.

Speaking of new: “After all,” you go on to murmur, leaning in close and letting your whispers fall against his pink lips, “it’s your first time. I wanna make this good for you, sweet boy.” You punctuate your words with a gentle stretch, pulling your fingers apart and nudging your fingertips against his g-spot. 

He gasps out, “H-how did—mm—you know?” 

When your pinkie fingers begins to nudge at the edge of his filled hole, a crystalline tear falls from the waterline of his eyes, wide and—is that fear?

“Lucky guess,” you reply, letting your hand slip free of his cunt and kissing away his soft, whimpering mewl. “Is this okay?” Your thumb collects the tear, smearing it away between your flesh as you make it known that you are going at his pace, even while you tease and play it like you're in charge; because for all the power you hold, you would so easily relinquish it back to him. 

(A submissive, a bottom—they hold all the power, like this.

Especially your virgin Kuni.)

But all he settles on is a gruff, “Get on with it.” 

Smiling softly, you nuzzle your noses together, giggling when he kisses you for it. “‘m gonna make you feel so good,” you promise against his lips, kissing him once before you take hold of his hips, “gonna make your first time awesome.” 

And Kuni fucking giggles. 

“Aha!” You smile, wide, even while you lift him and his hand scrabbles to position your cock properly, cockhead kissing his own before it catches on his hole. “Got you to laugh, sweetheart.

Now,” you continue, letting him slip into your cock, inch by inch, “you gonna let me fuck you silly?” 

He nods, desperately, all pretenses lost to the heady stretch of your cock in him. There's a resistance, brief, there-and-gone, before your cock passes through and sinks right in to the hilt. Your balls press against his spread-wide labia, but you’ve hardly the mind to pay attention to your own cock right now—not when Kuni’s nails are biting into your shoulders, now, tears flowing down his cheeks in thick rivulets.

“Kuni—”

“Move,” he interrupts, voice wholly shattered, “move, move—”

And you do. 

“You're so perfect for me,” you murmur, lathering the praise on thick as you guide him, hands controlling his grinds as he rides your cock with all that inexperienced gusto that makes heat throb low in your gut. “You're taking my cock so well, sweet boy, fucking yourself like that—God, Kuni, you're everything.” 

At a shift in the angle of your hips, he moans loudly, your cockhead butting against his g-spot in a way that makes his legs give out. 

“Please,” he cries, indigo bangs plastered to his forehead. “I—I can’t—”

“It's okay.” His eyes go wide as you tip him back, pressing him into the pillows and thrusting in deep, cock hitting new spots and bullying its way ever deeper into him. “It's okay, Kuni, baby, I got you.

“You can.”

He begins to thrash his head side to side on the pillow, overwhelmed with the new sensations wracking his body, of your cock sliding in, out, in, out; but when you reach down to thumb at the hot jut of his cock, he’s a goner. 

“Cumming—!” he cries, pulling you down into him as his cunt creams around you, as he buried his face into your neck and helplessly sucks at your skin. The feeling of his orgasm, of the way he moans so prettily, of the simple knowledge that you were his first (and that you will be his last)—it all sends you toppling over your own edge, cock pulsing as you empty yourself inside him. 

You can feel his heartbeat thrum against you. “Oh, oh, Kuni,” you coo, finally, the two of you finally beginning to calm down, hearts synchronized. “You did perfect.”

He huffs at you, tired eyes looking at you through damp lashes. “I—” he coughs, then: “Thank you.” 

“You don't need to thank me, sweet boy,” you murmur, kissing him softly as your limbs begin to pleasantly ache. “Let me run a bath.” 

“You don’t have to.”

You roll your eyes, fond, slipping out of him with a slick squelch that makes you hiss, forces the air out of his chest. “I want to. C’mon,” you finish, lifting him up beneath his knees (because God knows he'll be too shaky on them should be standing himself) and taking long strides to the bathroom. 

Losing your virginity—it’s not always so cut and dry, so easy, but Kuni is glad to have lost it with you. So as the warm bath water eases his own limbs, he leans back into you with a sigh. “Thank you,” he whispers, hardly audible, always so scared to be forthright in his affection.

You smile, soft, and kiss the wet crown or his head; you say nothing else, but the relaxed heartbeat that Kuni feels thumping against his back is all the response he needs.

He’s glad you looked.

yolo !! and anon, ur words r too kind ;; thank u <333 (‾◡◝)

15 MAY 2024, @rosedom, rosey .

[cybergothvox]

This may not be a new observation for people familiar with hypnosis and trauma, but has anyone noticed how hypnosis seems to work on very similar mechanisms as trauma does?

I was already deeply familiar with trauma academically and personally when I recently started researching hypnosis, and the similarities are making me understand more about how trauma triggers form.

Both hypnosis that induces hypnotic triggers and trauma triggers cause you to associate something with another thing on a deep, subconscious level. Obviously associations can occur in other ways, but only in trauma and hypnosis have I seen such a deep correlation where a single phrase can cause someone to very reflexively perform an action or experience strong emotions.

Additionally, both trauma and hypnosis can induce a dissociative barrier between the trigger and conscious awareness. I read this post on amnesia play for hypnosis kink and I was just struck by like. Holy shit. That is what it feels like when I find an alter with trauma memories I am not supposed to know, and for a second I can remember everything and as I am starting to react emotionally suddenly it all starts to slip away until it feels blank and blurry and I have no idea what it was even though I knew it just a second ago. (Which is why I think to have a full understanding of hypnosis you cannot just look at therapeutic use because I do not think in therapy a memory barrier would be induced like this.)

And it makes sense, right? Like a brain is a brain, its going to have the same structure and mechanisms even in different contexts so it makes sense that it's not that different but I was still quite shocked by it.

And the thing it is making me realize about how trauma forms has to do with what hypnosis is and how it works.

At its core (at least this is what I have read, in several places, though it is a theory and not confirmed, which is fair it is hard to confirm for certain anything about how the mind works due to the nature of it) hypnosis is a heightened state of focus. Generally during hypnosis you are focused and relaxed, and the relaxation is how you can clear your mind enough to focus only on the hypnotists words and the feelings they make you feel.

This made me realize that trauma formation occurs during intense focus as well. The focus is based on fear; one needs to be highly focused on what is going on in a survival situation or a situation where they are being hurt in order to best navigate the situation and get out as quickly as possible, and because that is a High Priority all of the brain is focused on it.

I believe this heightened state of focus in trauma accesses a similar part of the mind that hypnosis does, albeit through violent and unpleasant means, and this is why things that occur during trauma formation can trigger these feelings that were felt during trauma formation to come back.

This is just my personal observations do not take this as academic truth but I am very interested in studying these similarities. If anyone knows any academic papers on this or personal experiences people have written on this topic I would be very interested in reading them.

I will be researching it but of course looking up hypnosis and trauma brings up mainly how hypnosis can be used to treat trauma (which is relevant to the topic still) and it will be hard to find something talking about specifically how hypnosis can sort of mimic trauma on a mechanical level.

(tw: violence)

It's like as if trauma is being attacked and torn open, and hypnosis is surgery. One is violent and damaging, and one is careful and can be healing, but they both reach inside of you to touch the same places.

[timkontheunsure]

Some of the reasons I think Stolas is on the spectrum

(finally getting around to popping this on up too).

He has special interests & misses social cues while being happy in them.

It not really normal to be happy reading legal documents when someone's life is on the line. But Stolas is just vibing that he gets to help with his love of words. Yay him!

Stims

He stims when both happy & sad to help regulate his emotions.

His happy stims are:

*clapping when he gets to take Via to the circus, because he thinks they can enjoy it together.

He also does this with contract reading.

*He hopps up and down when his dad gives him a new books. Also when getting ready for his date with Blitz. He's just so happy he needs to hop.

His sad stims:

*are bang his head again and again about the engagement.

*He self sooves with chest strokes when Blitz says his outfit is too much.

*He hand rubs and wringing his hat when worrying about Via in LA.

Special interests

The there's that Stolas info dumps on the playdate with Blitz all about his books and about plants.

Stolas also feels he has to explain why Blitz horse joke was soo funny. And why's it so funny?

Because it's accurate. I love his little cutie.

But he's also kept up his love of plants as a major hobby now he's an adult. When most people tend to swap interests as they age.

Side bar

His comfy resting hand position is t rex hands. This tends to be an autistic thing. Also works well as an owl.

Sensory issues

Stolas appears to also have some sensory issues too. When his a child he appears to be struggling when Mr Butler touches his hair out of nowhere.

But he's fine with Blitz doing it when they're kissing. This shows a lot of trust between them.

I think it's likely sensory issues are the reason why he swaps into his comfy, very old robe, as often as he can too.

Specific communication issues

While Stolas is very good at some communication styles, he's pretty bad at others.

When the audience think it's another joke about wanting to keep a puppy; he immediately knows Blitz's is panicking the studio. And tries to get to him.

However he doesn't get that his dirty talk is way OTT, because he's mostly likely coping it from the erotica. Not lived experience.

Speaking of erotica.

There's obviously a rule that reading is allowed at the diner table. But Stolas doesn't get This book isn't appropriate to read there.

Another rule he appears to follow more rigidly than most probably would; is that when you get an appointment you wait till you're seen.

Ozzie's ment to met Stolas at noon, but doesn't make it till 4 pm because of problems with work.

Stolas is only a couple of days out of the hospital and is probably feeling horrible.

But he sticks around a minimum of 4 hours to be seen, because he feels he has to.

(I'm assuming he also got taught you turn up earlier rule, but this just a guess).

Stolas genuinely wants to do something Via will enjoy, and he's fine taking Via to stylish occult when she asks.

But didn't get it till she's crying and sad that she wasn't enjoying Loo Loo Land.

"I take it you are.. not having fun." She needs to spell it out. Sarcasm isn't easy for him to interrupt.

His was obviously thought taking his daughter and his lover out to a theme park would be a good way to introduce them.

It's the sort of plot that only works on a novellas. And that's probably when he got it from. (Probably worked great for Gabrielle and Alejandro).

These are examples of him Masking, and not understanding why it didn't work.

Stella's being dangerous to be around = take Via out somewhere for her to have fun to blow off steam.

Wanting your lover and daughter to like eachother = ask IMP to tag along as the completely unnecessary bodyguards.

He doesn't really get that flirty with his affair partner, in front of his kid while going through a divorce isn't a good idea...

He also struggles to understand when his flirting comes off as condescending too. With "ittybity imps like you" or calling him Blitzy in public. He's most likely him coping language from other goeita.

But Stolas is very good at knowing when knowing when Blitz is fine being picked up, when to reassure him with face stokes, or how to calm Blitz down from a panic attack in just a few seconds.

So it's not that he's just never learnt these skills. It's just that some communication skills are harder for him than others.

But if you disagree that fine. 🙂 I just wanted to put down some of my thoughts why I think he could be.

[luveline]

darling darling jade-y!!! I saw your post about semi specific requests that you like to write and I thought I’d combine two of the things I saw on there ❤️

for asf!Fred, very possibly maybe reader gets a serious concussion and Fred has worries about how the brain fog may affect readers tendencies to dissociate or that the confusion might further upset her? Just general, mutual hurt comfort where everyone’s worries are put at ease in the end ❤️❤️

I love coming back to your blog almost everyday and always finding something delicious to read no matter if i’m reading something new or rereading a fav!! Sorry this was a bit long but I love to sing people’s praises!! Have a looovely day or night ❤️

thank you for your request lovely! 💌 —Fred takes care of you when you can’t look after yourself, but he finds it hard to ignore how your actions mimic the past. 2k, fem

cw mental health issues

“It’s alright. Hold my hand.”

Fred puts his hand out for you in the middle of George and Angelina’s living room. Your eyes shine with hurt, so odd to see when no one’s said anything cruel, and you won’t take it. You’re stuck where you’re standing.

“Go on, sweetheart, take my hand. It’s okay. I’m just gonna help you.”

You put your hand up gently. Fred takes the hint and twines his hand through yours, tickled by the slowness of your fingers curling over the backs of his knuckles. “Thank you,” he says, taking a guiding step to the sofa. “Come on. Let’s sit down.”

You walk. Fred takes your shoulders into his hands when you’re close enough and holds you to his chest as he shakes out the pillows behind you, making room for you to sit comfortably. “Okay, sit down, my girl. There you go.” He grins at you. “Brilliant. How do you feel, are you okay?”

You stare at him. Your despondency makes him feel sick, but he swallows it down. He bends at the waist to meet your eyes with nothing but patience and fondness. “Y/N,” he says slowly, reaching for your knee. “Do you need to go to bed?”

“No.”

“No. Alright, I’m going to get your drink, and see if George is finished with dinner, okay? I’m not going far.”

You give him a look you’ve employed many times since you got hurt, like you can’t work out why he’s acting strangely, or perhaps why you’re acting strangely. Fred pulls your hand to his mouth for a kiss, barely a kiss, more like he’s pressing the entirety of your hand to his lips.

“Love you,” you say.

“I love you,” he says into your hand. “Okay? I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be okay.”

“I know, I know, I just don’t want you to worry.”

He encourages your shoulders back to have you flush to the sofa and sends you a wink as he goes. You almost laugh, teeth peeking out as you smile at him, the happiest you’ve looked for at least the last two days. Your brain fog is persistent and bothersome, to put it lightly.

Fred heads into the kitchen where George is plating a large baking tray of pasta into four dishes, two of which he’s set atop the microwave.

“Hey,” George says, “I’ve got two for now and two for tomorrow, just in case.”

Fred doesn’t know how to say thank you, so he doesn’t. If Fred weren’t in love with you in a way that’s changed his entire being, George would still look after you, because you’re one of his best friends, and he’s yours. But Fred does love you, and George knows that, and to be taken care of by his brother while you recover is a privilege he won’t take lightly.

“Don’t worry about it, Forge. I think mums got a lasagna with our names on it waiting in her fridge…” Fred leans against the wall by the door frame and covers his eyes. He’d been joking, and now suddenly he feels sick again.

“You okay?” George asks.

Fred holds out his hand, as if to say, Don’t ask me. Don’t ask and don’t come near me. He doesn’t think that boys don’t cry, but he just hates being this person who can’t keep it together. You need to be looked after by someone who’s fully present while you’re disassociative. Fred needs to be that person, but it’s just so hard seeing you like this again.

“I feel like–” He swallows nothing, meeting George’s waiting gaze with a weak smile. “Feel like she’s that scared lonely girl again and there’s nothing I can do to make it up to her.”

George puts the empty pan on the back burner. He tosses dirty spoons and forks into the sink, and wipes his hands on a tea towel pensively. “It’s a brutal mix of symptoms,” he says finally, his voice straining. “But she’ll get better again.”

Post concussive symptoms are about as bad as it comes, and they can last for months. Not just weeks. Among the more manageable, such as dizziness, high blood pressure, and fatigue, are the worst Fred could imagine for you in particular —cognitive dissonance, memory loss, brain fog, anxiety, and depression. Even if you recover from each of your physical symptoms, it’s not uncommon for people who sustain a brain injury to remain depressed.

You’re already sick. Fred loves you and he doesn’t mind, doesn’t care, not a single thing will change for him, but you’re not well, and this head injury could send you into a tailspin.

“I forgot what she looks like when she’s hopeless,” Fred says. “I really did.”

“She’s not hopeless, Freddie, she’s hurt. Her head will get better, and she’ll get better too, because she has us to make sure of it.” George puts a plate of pasta onto a wooden tray with a knife and fork. “I’m… you know, I’m worried too.”

“Yeah.”

“I have Parmesan cheese and stuff in the fridge.”

“It’s okay. I’m gonna take hers in first.”

“You have to eat.”

“I know, I will. She might take some convincing, is all.”

It’s not as though Fred thought you were going to walk away from your concussion without consequence. It was an awful injury, his heart has never pounded that fast or that hard in his life, but he didn’t expect the symptoms of what you’re experiencing now to coincide as heavily as they do with your worst struggles.

You're teary eyed on the sofa, pressing yourself back into the apex of the arm and the cushions. It’s another symptom with multiple causes; Fred has found you crying because you were confused, and aching, and without explanation. It can happen and be finished within a few seconds.

“Hi, lovely girl. I have your dinner.”

“What is it?” you ask, sniffing.

Fred remembers the days in his last year of school where you’d been hungry enough to shake but not willing to eat. You didn’t know then and you can’t know now the sort of pain it is to watch a friend not be able to feed themselves without extreme effort, and Fred wouldn't want that for you, but it’s why he can’t explain his relief to you that you still have your appetite.

He sits down next to you and puts the tray on your lap, tentative at first to touch you in case he puts you off eating, then greedy with his hands as you eat a big first mouthful, and a second. You’re not uncoordinated despite the doctor's warnings. The dissonance seems to come before decision making for you, and this decision is firmly made.

You’re hungry so you’re eating.

Fred had to beg yesterday for you to eat. Hands on your legs, tone dropped into the most dulcet it’s ever been, asking, “Just one thing, can you do that for me? A piece of toast, lovely.”

That’s why you’re here. Fred can’t take care of you alone, he’s found. It’s almost fitting that you should need both of them again, even if Fred wishes you didn’t.

He knows it’s saccharine. Patronising, even, but he gives your arm a light squeeze. “Good girl,” he says quietly, relief palpable. “How is that? Is it nice? Don’t tell me all the trouble we had yesterday is because you don’t like my cooking.”

“Felt sick all day,” you say, scratching your bowl with the tines of your fork.

“I know. Do you feel less sick right now?” He cups your face as you nod shyly. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I don’t mind. I’m just kidding. George made you another plate to take home, anyways, so you won't suffer again.”

Your laugh is more breath than voice, but you turn your cheek into his hand before he can pull it away. There’s a connection in your gaze he hasn’t seen for a while. “You’re worrying.”

“I’m fine.”

You put your tray in his lap, and his heart sinks thinking you’re finished already, you’d eaten a few good spoonfuls but not enough to make up for days of pickiness. Your arm slides behind his. “I’m sorry you’re upset,” you say, pressing your cheek to his arm in a cuddle. “You can tell me anything.”

“I’m fine,” he says, rubbing his nose against your head.

“It’s okay, lovely.”

He blinks back tears. “No, I know it’s okay. Everything’s gonna be fine.”

“You can have mine. I’m not hungry anymore.”

“Can’t we share it?” he asks. He thinks you might be lying. In your confusion, you’ve taken his upset to be rooted in hunger. “Please?”

“It’s nice,” you say, like you’re agreeing, picking up your fork again to eat from his lap.

Fred breathes out a sigh. If he could, he would wrap you up in a hug so tight it makes you both click.

You offer him a forkful. He eats it and doesn’t comment on the way it taps against his teeth.

“I think I have that pain again,” you say, poking at pasta shells.

“Yeah? In the back of your head?”

“Like a thrumming.”

“I’ll get your painkillers.”

“I’m about to go get them,” George says, carrying a second tray, a soft smile on his face as he puts it on the coffee table. “I can read your mind, ghost.”

“What am I thinking now?” you ask.

“It’s nice to be with your best friends, duh,” he says, turning around again to retrieve your painkillers.

You turn to Fred without saying anything, eye to eye, nearly not quite smiling. You abandon your fork again to wrap your arms around his neck and hug him, hiding. Fred closes his eyes, his arm curved eagerly behind your back. “Don’t knock the tray,” he mumbles, letting out a deep breath.

“You’re making me feel sick,” you say.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s my fault, right? It’s always my fault.”

“No, no, lovely, it’s not your fault.”

“It’s my fault,” you mumble. “There’s something wrong with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re perfect to me, you always will be. You’re just not very well today, that’s all it is.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, nearing hurting now, your voice strangled. “I’m sorry, Fred.”

“Ghost, it’s okay.” He shoves the tray from his lap. He can clean up any mess, but this is urgent. You slouch into the space he makes. “It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s not your fault, and it wouldn’t matter if it was. There’s nothing wrong with you that won’t get better.”

“I don’t like feeling like this.”

Fred collects himself. He can’t panic right now, as much as he wants to. “It’s not forever,” he says, letting his hand run down your back to the base of your spine, “I promise, it’ll start to feel better. I’m not going anywhere until it does, and even then you can’t get rid of me. When was the last time you managed that?”

“I don’t want to get rid of you,” you mumble.

His hand seems to be working. The massaging of his thumb against the base of your spine calms you down. “I don’t want you to,” he says, nudging at your face with hide nose until he can kiss your cheek. “Mm?” he hums, lips sliding against the corner of your mouth. “Just me and you forever, yeah? You can’t be alone when you have me.”

[otomes-world]

Six impossible things before breakfast

Little twist with sentient twst au, yes, I didn't expect this either. Masterlist with more works here

We've probably all heard the joke about "How many light bulbs does it take to (insert whatever)." Who would have thought that you would use a slightly modified version of it: how many more coincidences must happen to realize the truth.

Although can anyone really blame you for not wanting to admit that you are a bunch of colored pixels created purely for entertainment purposes? No, it even sounds nice. After all, your purpose was to create extras, a stage on which the main characters performed and shone. Those who had faces.

Did you always have yours? Could you always see it in the mirror in the morning?

Did figurative shivers run down your spine every time a faceless classmate addressed you? One of ten, hundreds, exactly the same. Have the main bunch had the same problem? That's the question you'd been asking yourself lately. Did they shrug off empty, replaceable shells, or at least for a second consider them their equals?

Perhaps the question should have been asked differently. Was this in the order of things for them, because the thought of the incorrectness of worldly norms did not flash through their heads. Or it was something simple and very banal - they did not realize that they were part of the game.

Were you special? The thought was flattering, but it was stupid to start turning up your nose. Maybe the supreme programmer, like the smart guys from Ignihyde, could consider you a virus, a bug, an annoying nuisance, which can be gotten rid of in a couple of seconds. Click and that's it, your file would be deleted.

The idea that death could be more than just literal took you by surprise.

It all started with a strange feeling of déjà vu, with a strange cyclical nature of what was happening. How the seasons did not change according to the laws of nature or, on the contrary, lasted longer than expected. Sometimes you wondered what month was going on, at least by counting. Or how you couldn’t say with certainty what year of study you were in. When was your graduation? Would it ever come?

How many times did the main characters celebrate their birthday? How many times had you celebrated it? Did you celebrate it from the start?

Lessons

Breaks

Exams

Holidays

Lessons

Was there an end to this merging stream of eternal students? Was the dormitory assignment ceremony that important? How many real “first-year students” were admitted each year? Why couldn't your educational journey end? Time adjusted and obeyed an invisible force; it existed only when it was convenient for someone.

Catching the attention of the local spotlight and getting on stage was the best way to get labeled as a "bug" and ask to be removed. However, the main threat was only the erasure of memory.

The next discovery was doubt about one’s own “specialness.” When consciousness had nothing to do, it began to cling to different details, trying to look for differences in a series of events repeated in the film.

When you knew what to look for, small mistakes that were not noticeable at first glance stand out more than usual. A slight shadow of boredom on the faces of the main ones. Lack of interest in the educational process and exams. As if only one “exam” was important in a bunch of exactly the same events. When the first years of Heartslabyul signed a contract with Ashengrotto.

With new information in mind, it became easier to identify important “events” and track time based on them. By how many times they were repeated in the endless flow of time. Taking notes and somehow recording data was more dangerous than you thought, all that was left was to come up with methods known to you alone. For example, in a dorm room on the bedside table there was a cluster of glasses, each containing specific color of pencils.

Did your roommates start to think you were weird and obsessed with order and cleanliness? Their right. You didn't care what they thought, besides, they would forget about it with the coming of a new day.

In order not to completely go crazy, you began to peer into the “faces” of other students, trying to spot at least a feature that distinguishes one from another. Either this world was too lazy, creating copy after copy in every dorm, or there was no point in trying. If you somehow came to terms with the feeling of the meaninglessness of what was happening, then the appearance of one student in several places at the same time still caused rejection.

Disgusting

If this world was someone’s experiment, then why were events cyclical? If this was a cage, then where was the exit. If this was a prison, then who was being held in it?

You made a mistake in observing a person without magic from another world. Trying to figure out whether Yuu's "world" was truly different or just as much a part of predestination as everything around. Was “Yuu” really the main one or just an extra? You could have sworn they didn't have a face. At least such clear features as all the main ones. Just as there was no character, how in each of the repeating events they could behave differently.

It was a breath of fresh air in the routine of never-ending study. The watching of the only part capable of changing in the world, subject to the same rules.

That's why, when one of the main ones suddenly approached you, you thought you were dreaming. Whether it was possible to fall asleep in the simulation was another question. Usually you went to bed, closed eyes, only to open them the next second to the sound of the alarm clock.

"Can I help you with something?" You smiled politely, but was it worth it? Could the main bunch distinguish between persons different from their privileged group.

Hunt. Was that his name? You weren't completely sure. He was part of something forbidden, something to be avoided at all costs. Part of the three “don’ts”: don’t look for information;don’t mention; don’t give yourself unnecessary temptations. Returning to the present moment, he just looked into your eyes with his constant smile, as if trying to find confirmation of something.

Like a true NPC, you continued to stand, frozen in one position and waiting for his answer. Until awareness came as abruptly as his appearance in principle. He looked straight into your eyes. Could he see your face the same way you saw it in the mirror? How long ago? Could the rest of the main ones see you too?

A billion questions were spinning in head at the same time as you tried to come up with a suitable excuse and reason to leave. The changes turned out to be too unexpected and frightening. Perhaps with the advent of a new “day” everything would return to normal.

“Is there a knight in the world who is not ready to devote all his deeds to one and only one, if this opens the veil of secrets at least a little? Will it allow him to find out what thoughts are spinning in head?”

It's a pity he was not a knight. Even though each word was pronounced with a special intonation, you only thought about how much water there was in his speech. Unfortunately, saying this out loud was an unaffordable luxury.

"..Is that so?"

“You are right, an étoile (star), I may be not one of their noble number, but even so I am not able to deny their order.” You let him continue, mentally counting down the minutes until the bell rang for lesson. “I may not have a sword in sheath, but It won`t change a way I live! Your smile can make my whole heart melt. There isn't lie in way I felt”

“I’m not good at poetry, but the rhyme is lame, Sir Hunt,” if it’s there.

“You’re right, writing poems is just one of my hobbies, to which I devote my few free leisure hours,” he continued, as if your words didn’t hurt him at all. “I hasten to assure you that there was no malicious intent in my actions. This modest hunter only wanted to greet a new connoisseur of everything beautiful and interesting."

No matter how much you hate beating around the bush, doubts creeping in from randomly thrown words. Sometimes the phrases spoken directly were the most frightening. However, not wanting to part with your role as an extra - which was burdensome, but at the same time giving a semblance of freedom - you continued to pretend to be an NPC.

"Should I congratulate you?.. Congratulations!" Any member of the film club would envy your feigned sincerity. A bell in three, two, "I don’t dare detain you any longer.”

The unsaid `like you would me` hung in the air. You had to hold out for the few remaining hours until the end. Fortunately, the main one did let you go, but smile, saying that its owner knew everything in the world, left an unpleasant aftertaste. One that your intuition suggested would accompany you for the next days.

It's going to be a very long a few hours.

[fumifooms]

Helki compilation

Helki is a prisoner-turned-servant. He’s a criminal canary and was implicitly one of Milsiril’s charges, and now that she’s retired he’s become her servant.

He must have gotten into Milsiril’s good graces, wether through attachment or convenience, which is a feat considering Milsiril’s a socially anxious recluse. Which is interesting because it’s not like he seems like the agreeable type, shifty upbeat delinquent style… We really don’t know much about him, not even what crimes he did, so there’s a lot of space for speculation on all grounds.

He seemed to be acting out of his own initiative in the Rin comic, he doesn’t look thrilled to be there in many post-canary comics but he also seems content enough. He restrains Milsiril in the Mithrun cleaning comic which is interesting to think of for their relationship.

It’s fun to notice how he’s the only one that didn’t get bored of looking after Rin, and then reports back about her condition… I’d say he was getting used to taking care of kids which would come with the job of serving Milsiril, but then, not enough for him to clean the blood off himself hah. In this way it’s interesting to think about his relationship to the idea of parenthood, he’s probably the closest thing to a father figure/male role model Kabru had growing up, without mentioning the other kids. I feel like he’d consider himself an older brother, cousin or uncle figure sooo much sooner than a father, but even then I do think it’s just his job and he’s not really invested or forming real relationships with any of them much.

It’s curious to note that he’s dressed in canary uniform presumably after having been pardoned and living with Milsiril? Which you can tell by the armor bits (the yellow strips of spider silk). In the Kabru training montage and the Rin comic specifically. It seems very implausible for him to have still been a canary while being a retired Milsiril’s servant and being with her all the time, and the cleaning with Mithrun comic (where he’s not in uniform) happens after Utaya so it could happen after Kabru was taken in but around the time of the Rin comic. So why uniform? It could be one of the best outfits he has, so it’d make sense to wear it around especially if you’re sparring or getting… Blood on you? Could just be because that's how Milsiril wants him to dress. But yeah we don't know when exactly Helki becoming Milsiril’s servant happened. We do see Mithrun’s charge Cithis be tasked with taking care of him, so charge being given a servant-caretaker role doesn’t seem all that out of the ordinary, sometimes even prior to retiring.

Imo, if he doesn't work for Milsiril he goes back to jail/the canaries/has to try and get a job instead of just tending to her, so Helki is staying with Milsiril because she's the best option for him. He’s her milsiril's personal servant and does mostly dull tasks involved in that. He’s not particularly suited to the role but they’ve gotten used to each other to him so she took him with her, and he does prefer it to canary work so it works out decent for him. I think he’s used to reading her and managing her moods and he’s one of the rare social connection she has.

Under spoiler is stage 2 interpretation stuff, bigger speculation, in a reblog I’ll make soon I’ll go over my thoughts for stage 3 interpretation lol. Helsiril I’m coming for you

Translation of the canary hierachy chart used is by Thatsmimi, here

[sysmedsaresexist]

What you're doing is incredibly brave. We really appreciate the risk you're taking sharing your journey. It's awesome to see someone so vocal and with such reach openly change their stance.

We wanna know some of your thoughts about something you've been saying in all of this, about CDDs being separate from endogenic plurality. Specifically, your thoughts on when the two do meet. Like, endogenic systems that get traumatized and develop CDD symptoms? Or CDD systems that practice headmate creation, and find created headmates working like the rest of their system? Or folks in either category that relate a lot with those in the other?

We're curious because we exist in that in-between; a system with DID due to trauma, but that doesn't view our plurality itself as coming from trauma.

And if you're not at all interested in that area of overlap, or in sharing those thoughts, no worries! Have a great day!

This is a pretty nuanced ask and each mod has a different view on things, so we'll all answer!

Mod Signal: I believe that endogenic plurality and the plurality found in CDD systems works differently, but that intersection you're talking about can exist. The majority of resources for CDD systems involve how to deal with trauma and different alters reactions to it. If an endogenic system goes through some shit and gets trauma later in life, and can get use out of grounding guides, or how to deal with flooding, I say use those guides (and literally anyone can improve their mental health from therapy as long as the therapist. You know. Isn't a cunt.) That being said. There are also endos who are very certain they're endos when they may have.... a bit more trauma than they thought. And that's normal. Incredibly so. But endogenic communities can lead to a bit more harm than good occasionally with those systems if they insist that the system in question isn't or couldn't be a cdd system, or encourages them not to look into resources on how to deal with trauma.

As far as purposefully created alters, they absolutely exist, and I know CDD systems that have created alters with it going ok, and CDD systems who have been *horribly* hurt trying. I've seen some tulpamancy guides out there that made me wince the whole time I've read them. Not because they're cringy, but because any time a CDD system fucks around with purposeful dissociation, it's Incredibly easy to fuck yourself up by accident. Even some guides to meditation can be harmful to systems if you don't go slowly and pay attention to your body (something that's already very, very easy to ignore if your system, like mine, is made of 90% pain holders lol).

It's for that reason that i haven't changed my pinned intro as "endo-neutral". I dont doubt endogenic plurality at all, but I still find a lot of critiques in the way the two communities mix. The labels are fucked anyway lol so. I dont know what label would best fit that stance. The problem does seem to be slowly fixing itself though. I'm happy that a lot of endos are leaning away from terms used by CDD systems. I view these problems for the most part as growing pains that will smooth themselves over as plurality in general becomes more accepted and more research about both sets of systems comes out.

Mod Quill: I’m feel like that’s a great jumping off point for me, someone who is so weird with syscourse that labels don’t fit me. I believe in endogenic plurality, I really do, but I also know this community has done so much harm to CDDs and vice versa. Part of me wants everyone to go to time out corners and think about what they’ve done.

In terms of the overlap between endogenic and CDD systems… I think defining it, at this point, is frankly meaningless, particularly for the reasons Signal stated. There’s so many endogenic systems who are actually CDD systems. On one hand, I want them to be able to access CDD spaces because, well, they have a CDD… but on the other, as someone who’s been horrifically damaged by endogenic spaces, who has spread a lot of misinformation and been fed a lot of misinformation due to those experiences… I’m wary of letting someone like that into a highly fucking traumatized space. (But I also have feelings about CDD spaces in general…)

At the end of the day, I feel like it’s not my place to draw that line. It’s up to each individual and their own system where they draw the line, and so long as it’s in-line with current understandings of CDDs and they don’t speak their personal experiences as if they’re gospel truth for all systems, I have no issues. If someone says they have endogenic DID (as in, they formed DID with absolutely no trauma), it’s not my place to directly confront that person and tell them that’s not possible; but if they shout from the heavens about how people are ignoring the truth, I’m going to post the truth as I know it, with sources to back it up.

The same goes for this overlap. A system who says “Hey, I have created alters, and I’m a DID system, and those things overlap?” Cool! Awesome! That’s actually my type of system. A system who goes, “Therefore, DID systems should split new alters for the benefits it has”? Allow me to traumadump about how my system completely destabilized due to that practice. The overlap is there, but it’s not for me to define for others; not unless they make their experiences universal.

Mod Robo: Oh boy, I have a lot of Thoughts on all of these questions! It's stuff I think about often. I love talking about all the in-betweens and overlaps, and I'd love to hear about your experiences too. Unfortunately, I don't think I can jam all of my thoughts in this post (it's already long enough) so I'll just talk about your first question.

First off, I want to say that I don't think it's all that unusual for someone with a CDD to feel like they've always been plural, even before their CDD. Of course, spiritual beliefs can play a role in that. Let's put spiritual reasonings aside though and look at it from a purely psychological view. It's our belief that all of our alters -- everything that can be them, will become them, etc. -- it's all there from the start. We don't believe that alters come out of a vacuum. All of my alters were born the day our body was born. Many of us did not exist as alters yet, but the foundation for us existed!

To give a personal example: some of us have memories of childhood that predate our existence as alters. These memories predate our knowledge of being a system or having DID. We've wondered how it's possible to have memories that predate our existence as alters. How is it possible for several alters to have these same memories, and feel as if it's their own but also not? How is it possible that we can't really attribute "who" those memories belong to other than just...us? All of us? It didn't fit into the mainstream idea that alters are supposed to be these distinct, clear-cut people sharing a body, with separate memories and no overlap, no utterance of our existence before becoming a separate alter.

Children aren't born with an integrated self. You probably know the whole spiel -- the mind integrates as you get older, blah blah blah. So, in our opinion, we were never not plural. We had an unintegrated mind full of parts as a child, and we grew up into an adult with an unintegrated mind full of parts and eventually a DID diagnosis.

I get that some people don't see themselves as existing before their CDD and that's okay, I understand that. I also relate to that, in a way! It can be weird to consider because you as the alter didn't exist until later on. But you as the brain did, if that makes sense.

All that being said, I believe that "endogenic CDDs" are a completely separate concept from "endogenic systems with CDDs." CDDs are diagnoses -- they have specified symptoms, diagnostic criteria, and treatment. Diagnoses are not people. You are. That's why plurality is such an incredibly personal thing, after all. We're literally talking about your own mind. Your self/selves. Your internal reality. No duh there are gonna be people who conceptualize and talk about it in different ways. Like, I firmly believe that's NEVER going to be clear cut and easy to understand.

OG Dude: First, I have to say, thank you to my mods. Their responses are fantastic, I support all of them. I brought them all in pretty early, and I wouldn't be where I am without them. Their pro/endo patience while I went back and forth, screamed and yelled... I love them. I love that they saw the good in me and decided to help me run this blog.

I agree with all that they said. For clarity sake, I'll give my own thoughts, even if they overlap or repeat.

I've posted from the beginning about how a lot of things that endogenic systems talked about were actually really normal in DID systems. Created alters, characters that take on life, MADD, loving your system, dysfunction in different areas of life, on and on. I think there's more intersection than a lot of people realize, but I really like how Robo talked about personal views. It took a really long time to realize that people defining their experiences in different ways isn't necessarily a bad thing, though it's unfortunate that sometimes this confuses systems that are still learning.

Yelling and screaming isn't going to help, though. There's another ask coming, this one about my thoughts on sophie, that I think will tie into this point and expand on it a lot more, so for now, I'll move on.

I don't have all the answers. I think CDDs are something extremely specific-- I think in a few more years, diagnosis will involve brain scans, biomarkers, and we'll be able to say with a lot more certainty where that line is, and what's different.

For now, I think I've learned that the best thing I can do for myself, and everyone else, endo or CDD, is just keep pumping out information.

A couple users on here are really good examples of these lines. They have CPTSD, PTSD, whatever else they've got going on, but they still hold the belief that their plurality and CPTSD are unrelated. It took a long time to come to terms with balancing respect for that self-determination, and my expectations of technology and the specificity of CDDs (meaning like, specific biomarkers).

In the end, I realized that it boiled down to, "are people getting the help they need?" Because in the end, that's all that matters, and if someone doesn't think they need help, why am I arguing? If someone does, who am I to keep them from resources?

What if that technology doesn't reach the mainstream, what if it's decades before it's refined enough to be financially feasible in diagnosis? What if people come out with the exact same brain structure as someone with DID and still refuse to admit that the plurality is related?

Well, shit, I don't know, but I'm guessing the answer is still going to be, "Don't yell at them, respect their self-determination."

I still firmly believe that plurality and CDDs are different things. I think that treatment for CPTSD and PTSD are different, and many endos without longterm, repetitive trauma in childhood have PTSD, and would benefit more from those spaces and resources than CDD/CPTSD spaces. However, I also admit that a general PTSD space isn't going to be prepared for the complex interplay of plurality and PTSD. All that said, it's not my job to tell someone which they have, my job should be to present information on both to everyone and let people come to their own conclusions.

It's hard, but it's a skill I'm still trying to learn. Seeing more people talk about their experiences is probably the only thing that's going to help make it easier.

[theresattrpgforthat]

Oooo you know what I haven't seen a lot of? Games meant for long term play between two players. Id love to see that!

THEME: Long-Term 2-Player

Hello friend, here's a few specific recommendations, but you'll want to take a look at the bits I recommend at the end as well!

Afterglow, by Fistful of Crits.

It started when a WIZARD cleaved apart the temple into two. Because, in the cyclical way of things, one ideology eventually wins out over the other. The Celestial Cycles shatter and pour away, blending into the colour of their worship into tones of soft purple and creamy orange hues.

Now there is no more day or night, no rising or setting of the Godly tombs that float in carefully calculated arches through the sky: there is only the AfterGlow and the wake of a different world.

AfterGlow is a solo or co-operative play journaling TTRPG game. Become a Dawncarver Acolyte of the Light, Imefelga, or a Nightweaver Acolyte of the God of the Night, Elestrell. Expand the world as you explore, search for offerings, fight dangerous threats and discover the mysteries of the Wizard and the AfterGlow.

AfterGlow is designed using the Firelights system, which was originally designed for solo play, and inspired by games such as Hollow Knight. As a game system, I think it’s one of the games that’s meant to last longer than just one session, and since AfterGlow uses the same bones, I’m guessing that it could work as a longer game as well. Just keep in mind that this game isn’t inspired by Hollow Knight; it’s more of a fantastical post-apocalypse.

Empanel, by Bogus Cheesecake.

The year is 1915 - you sit inside a dreary office, working as a telegraph operator for the North American rail system.  The dots and dashes of the telegraph machine spell out a dreary, unfulfilling existence. Until one day, a new kind of message appears. 

Empanel is a two-player narrative roleplaying game based around telegrams and queer yearning. Completely diceless, Empanel's messaging-based gameplay is designed for long-distance play between you and a partner. 

Empanel provides a new spin on two-player conversational roleplaying. Step into the shoes of a middle-aged telegraph operator (or anyone, we're not your boss) and explore the feelings of reconnecting with a love long past. 

I find that two-player games designed to happen over long distances naturally lend to more long-form play, although that is partially because of the time it is expected to take to send messages to each-other. That being said, even if you don’t live that far away, you’ll be expected to think carefully about the messages you send to each-other, as well as spend time encoding and decoding every letter you send. If you want a game about longing and secrecy, you might like this game.

Trading Places, by Jamie Sands.

Trading Places is a game for two people - one who has an ordinary life, and one who has an extraordinary life. They both keep journals. One day, they wake up in each other's bodies.  What happens next is entirely up to the people playing - will your story be a poignant examination of what a life of value means? Will you create a holiday-themed romantic comedy or an existential horror? 

This game doesn’t look like it has a recommended play time, and since it’s a journaling game, you’ll likely need to wait for each other to submit journal entries. I think the fact that you can change the tone of this game makes it really flexible, so you can talk with the other player about what kind of story you’d like to share. I also really like the idea of exploring the life of another person, and coming up with that as you go.

One More Thing, by Nathan D. Paoletta.

Somebody has been murdered! The murderer is sure they will get away with it - but the detective is on the case, and quickly sees the truth of the matter. Both of them know that the murderer did it; the question is how to prove it.

Your story begins with the murder, and continues as a back-and-forth drama playing out in the view of an imaginary television audience. The Murderer never gets away with it, but they can control how the audience sees them in the end. Were they justified in their crime? Did they see no way out of an untenable situation? Or are they a cold-hearted monster who took a life for their own material gain?

One More Thing tells compelling stories of criminals bought to justice, in the finest tradition of TV detective dramas from the 1970s to today.

This game feels episodic, but I don’t think that would stop it from being something a bit more long-form. You could run this either with one player embodying the same detective over a series of different murders, or you could alternate between roles, perhaps following the stories of two connected detectives, or switching between different tones.

Hit the Road, Jack, by Urania Games.

Hit the Road, Jack is a solo/duet game of adrenaline rush and creeping terror. Of chasing and being chased, of being forced to face your sins or to leave them all behind. It is a game of cat and mouse between two characters that we call the Jacks.

This is a game that mentions blood, violence, drugs, crime, and death - both deaths you choose and deaths you don’t.

Jack Be Nimble is the sinner, the criminal, and the one being chased. 

Jack Be Quick is the lawman, the aggrieved, and the one who chases. 

This is their journey cross-country across an empty stretch of highways. By drawing tarot cards and responding to journaling prompts, you will be able to flesh out the nature of these two Jacks, their relationship, and how they deal with whatever the road throws at them.

The game page mentions that there are different lengths of play that you can use for this game, so that tells me that long-form is definitely on the table here. I don’t know how long exactly the game is, but the nice thing about having two different roles, is that you can likely play the game twice, switching roles to give each of you a chance to be each character.

Other Games To Check Out

Little Shepherd, Little Spy, by @psychhound, has a two-player mode called Little Mortal, Little Fey. It’s a game about communication between spies, so I feel like it’s meant to happen over a significant period of time.

There's a lot of GM-Less games out there that aren't specifically two-player but are duet friendly, and are designed for longer-form play.

[karasucatt]

HELLO! Big fan of your Lion Narinder. Any lion behaviour to expect from him? Love your artstyle. What species of Lamb is yours? How do you depict the Lamb, the way you play them, or your idea for fanart? Do you have any outfits reference for those two? Will Narinder ever grow out his mane again? How does the modern AU of them pan out? Does Narinder get released from his chains? What are their favourite weapons and curses? Does Narinder have any side effect from being chained? I got inspired to make one of my Narinders a lion because of you as well, after @bluecheems lion Narinder.

Have a good month come to you and eat your meals regularly.

YES YES THANK YOU FOR GIVING ME A CHANCE TO RANT WITH SO MANY QUESTIONS

Any lion behaviour to expect from him?

Once Nari starts getting comfy he will nuzzle the Lamb a lot more, both in greeting but also in an affectionate way. He also roars on occasion!! Mainly on missions or when the Lamb takes him on Crusades and they loose him lol. He’ll groom the Lamb as well, commenting about how dirty they get during crusades and that he could spend his time doing something more productive(The Lamb knows he’s just being difficult. Every time they return Naris waiting to clean them up before they show themselves fully to the cult)

What species of Lamb is yours? How do you depict the Lamb, the way you play them, or your idea for fanart?

The closest I can get to answering the first question is actually a goat! The way I draw my lamb is heavily inspired by the Dreamurr family(specifically Asriel) so really they’re more like a goat with fluffy hair lol. As for how I depict them, well I love me a good codependent relationship turned two assholes learning how to heal.

My lamb sees themselves as the faithful servant to TOWW at first so they don’t speak(unless it’s to Nojular to announce to the others or during sermons), keep their wool short, and focus only on crusades and keeping the cult stable. It’s once they defeat Kallamar that they start opening up. The crown speaking to them gave them a new boost of confidence(and a tad bit of inanity) so they began speaking more, directing the cult, and focusing on their relationship with their followers more then crusading. With the indoctrination of the cults brand new Therapist(No one asked Focalor to do it they just took up the job themselves), the Lamb was able to work through a lot of their issues.

Now with Nari in the cult, they’ve started their ascension into godhood. This takes a big toll on their mental state, causing more murder episodes and mood swings. Nari knows how bad the ascension process can fuck someone up so he’s helping where he can. The Lamb appreciates it a lot.

Will Narinder ever grow out his mane again?

Nari actually likes it short!! The Lamb asks him this same question all the time and Narinder always says he likes it short. Though he does grow out parts just so the Lamb can braid and decorate it.

How does the modern AU of them pan out? Does Narinder get released from his chains?

I have comics and things planned for the Modern AU so stay tuned for those!! I can say that Nari does get released from his chains by the Lamb on accident. Now he has to learn how to live among mortals and the Lamb is marching straight to their Professor to try and learn more about the formerly sealed god.

What are their favourite weapons and curses?

I generally don’t use curses actually!! I prefer things with high speed and high damage so my best answer is that I like Swords!(I despise guns and hammers they so slow for my lambs nimble ass)

Does Narinder have any side effect from being chained?

He has PTSD from the imprisoning battle and gets the phantom feeling of chains on his wrists from time to time. While he likes his alone time he’ll actually cling to the Lamb once he’s spent more time in the cult. He’s terrified of being alone even if he won’t admit it.

Thank you so so soooo much for this long ask I really wanted to info dump lol! I do have my own outfit designs for them and I’ll leave them below(the Lamb is based off of when they first save Leshy from purgatory. The more recent design you see is based off of when all four bishops have been saved. I’ll make a proper reference for it one day lol)

[rederiswrites]

So ME/CFS (myalgic encephalomyelitis/Chronic Fatigue Syndrome) and fibromyalgia are two syndromes (collections of symptoms often found together, with unknown causative mechanisms) with largely overlapping symptoms. They're currently classified as different diagnoses, but there are plenty of people who aren't convinced that they're actually different things. The biggest diagnostic difference seems to be whether the pain or the fatigue is the biggest problem.

I'm sure there are plenty of people who, like me, couldn't possibly say which of those is ruining my life more. I, like many, fulfill all the diagnostic criteria for both. I have the specific patterns of pain and inflammation characteristic of fibro, but I also have the postural orthostatic problems (Stand Up Feel Real Bad disorder) and extreme fatigue of ME/CFS. There's no test; diagnosis is an inherently subjective thing.

This is just gonna keep being about medical problems, so have a cut.

I also have problems that may be related or may be separate or may be part of the constellation of physical issues associated with ADHD, like loose tendons that lead to terrible core strength and janky joints. So while generally the pain spots for fibromyalgia are considered to have no actual material cause, I am pretty sure that my right hip and shoulder are in fact fucked up, and fibro is just making it experientially worse. I've also got a rib that spends more than half its time in just slightly the wrong goddamn place. I have multiple friends who have hypermobility problems that make mine look like a papercut, but combining them with fibro isn't a lot of fun.

A few months back, at my bestie's prompting and with his help, I started eating keto, which is essentially just restricting carbohydrates so harshly that they represent less than 20% (or less than 10%, this seems to be bioindividual) of your diet, at which point your body begins building energy transport molecules out of fat (ketones) instead of glucose. This has a history of treating several conditions (originally, seizures, but now also diabetes and inflammatory conditions), well before it became popular for weight loss.

It was an experiment. Believe me, I have mixed feelings about the fact that it worked. At first, it worked really, really well. I went from mostly bedbound to up and working full days outside. I've started to hit diminishing returns and having to nap more often, but it's still a radical improvement. I just forget how bad it was too fast. I hate how fast we forget how far we've come.

I haven't talking about it though, because I am so conflicted about restrictive diets as a thing. This started as an experiment, and as an experiment I could sell myself on no apples no potatoes no rice no crackers no no no no etc for a few weeks. After a few weeks I could decide whether it was worth it. And now here we are and it works.

But I've gone through So Much food restriction, starting when Phantom was two and we discovered that gluten fucks us both up. Then the Boy was sensitive to so many things as a baby that I cut out the entire Top Eight allergens (let's see, can I remember? Milk, eggs, peanuts, gluten, corn, soy, uhh....others...) for a year while he was nursing. Once you've cut wheat AND eggs AND corn out there is almost no commercial product you can eat and you have to prepare everything from scratch. With a toddler and a baby. I was literally starving. I used a calorie tracker for a while and found that I was nearly a thousand calories short per day, on average. I could barely think.

It's become a huge depression trigger for me. I tell people that my last major depressive episode was triggered by not being able to eat dairy, and I'm not kidding. I'm struggling with it now, too. Most of the time I'm good, but still, despite medication, I get very low and I just want to be able to fucking eat something tasty and comforting and EASY. I just want...cheese and crackers. A whole piece of fruit. A baked potato. Rice with my stir fry. But then I eat too much fucking watermelon and I can tell the difference in my wellbeing the next day.

Food becomes a minefield. Every meal becomes a struggle. You question every bite, every symptom. At least once a day the whole thing is just too annoying and I decide to just not eat, because fuck it. I dunno if it reaches eating disorder levels, but it's certainly maladaptive. I hate that I've gotten here because what you eat actually DOES matter. it's like the question of how you talk yourself out of anxiety when the world is objectively falling apart.

But I can do the things I love. I owe all this garden progress to not having had a glass of juice or a bowl of pasta in four months. Not to mention the abrupt cessation of all my dermatitis problems, frequent "silent" heartburn, a ton of digestive problems, migraines, most headaches, and more. "Nothing is worth risking depression" but is it though?

I'm holding on to the hope that these changes will allow me to heal. That I'll be able to make long-term progress, as many people say they have, and reintroduce restricted foods gradually. That I'll be able to cement the opportunity diet gave me with regular movement and conditioning and slowly claw my way up the spiral.

But on days when I feel like shit anyway, and I can't have some fucking chips about it....yeah. It's not great.

[felinefractious]

hi! love your blog, i love getting to see all these cool cat colors i didnt even know were a thing LOL like i didn’t know there was such a thing as lilac or cinnamon but theyre so pretty.

ive been looking into getting a ragdoll in the future, the ones i have met have been the sweetest cats and they’re so pretty.

ive been doing research into possible health concerns they can have, and all im really seeing is the same things your typical random little guy could have when improperly cared for and things like that. kidney disease while on a bad diet, issues with hairballs when not brushed and groomed properly due to being long haired, etc. ive seen a few places say that they’re more prone to respiratory issues and heart disease, but the latter also seems to be something that breeders work to make sure their cats are safe from? at least in my research.

i guess im basically just wondering if you know anything else that can affect ragdolls specifically, or if there’s anything horribly unethical that’s totally swept under the rug or hidden about them! additional things to research and places to look would be appreciated, i never know where to research stuff like this reliably and you seem to know where to find some good info and stuff on cat breeds :)

thank you in advance for any help you can give, i hope have a good day!!

I’m glad you enjoy the blog and are learning about some new colors!

Ragdolls are definitely cool cats and they’re a pretty health breed, one of the major things to be mindful of is that this assessment only applies to well-bred individuals from good breeders.

Common breeds mean a lot of breeders which, unfortunately, also means a lot of scammers and bad breeders.

And the Ragdoll is a very common breed so there are a lot of not so good breeders out there… and the temperament and health of these backyard bred cats is a gamble, one that can end in heartbreak.

Now with that warning out of the way the big thing to worry about with the breed is Hypertrophic Cardiomyopathy. Fortunately the mutation responsible for this condition in the breed has been identified and can be tested for. Staying on top of heart health is an absolute must for a good breeder, this means regular echocardiogram’s as well as DNA testing.

The other big ones are Polycystic Kidney Disease and Progressive Retinal Atrophy, both of which can be tested for. These are common inherited disorders in the purebred population, you’ll have a hard time finding a breed which neither of these have been documented in.

Mucopolysaccharidosis VI is a storage disease that has been documented in the Ragdoll breed but it can be tested for and I’m not sure how common it is in current breeding populations.

A breeder shouldn’t cut corners when it comes to health testing, there are several commercially available tests which look for a wide variety of inherited disorders. Optimal Selection is becoming increasingly widely used, although personally I would feel most comfortable with testing submitted through somewhere like UC Davis.

But HCM is the big big one because heart disease is a silent killer. With the other conditions clinical symptoms will be apparent but a cat with HCM could appear normal and you wouldn’t know without testing. And remember - not all cardiac cases will have a heart murmur, either!

The other thing to keep in mind with Ragdolls is they seem to be more prone to developing Feline Infectious Peritonitis. This one is a little more complicated.

FIP occurs due to mutations in the feline coronavirus, which is a common viral infection in cats. Until recently FIP was considered nearly 100% fatal but thanks to Dr. Niels Pederson we now have a promising cure. One of our patients was actually one of the original study cats and has been doing well all this time, she’s amazing to work with - like a piece of living history!

One of the big problems with the treatment is the legality of it… for a long time it was only available through the black market and could easily run you thousands of dollars. Treatment is gradually becoming available through legal venues but it depends on where you live.

Anyways, the point is that we don’t know exactly why these mutations occur in some cats and not others but there’s strong evidence that there’s a genetic component - it’s common for related cats to develop FIP, we’ve seen this multiple times with littermates. We also know that it occurs at a higher incidence in some breeds than others…

And presumably your kitten wouldn’t have been exposed to feline coronavirus at the cattery but it’s not unlikely that they would be exposed at some point in their life given they don’t reside in a bubble… and if or when this happens what are the chances it’ll become the dreaded FIP?

So mitigating this risk when purchasing from a breeder can be a little more complicated… it’s not something I think should turn you off of the breed but it is something to keep in mind - and if you look into a breeder that seems good but has a lot of reviews or reports of their graduate kittens and cats developing FIP? Probably best to keep looking.

I think that’s a pretty good summary on the breed’s health but people are always welcome to chime in!

[aforgottenthing-in-space]

Ok so. Miles Edgeworth is trans. Gregory was definitely a trans affirming father so when Miles told him he was like “sure son. What name do you want to go by?”

And so all Manfred von Karma knew was that Gregory Edgeworth had a son. When he gains custody of Miles, he just. Does not realize that the kid he’s now in charge of is a trans boy. (Maybe Miles already had a name change. Idk. Somehow legal name wise, von Karma just. Does Not realize.)

So Miles grows up being raised as a boy and von Karma just. Doesn’t realize. Until puberty begins.

And he notices something, that Miles isn’t experiencing puberty the way he would have expected and he’s like hmmm. I am not sure what is happening.

And then like preteen Miles, incredibly nervous, comes to him and he’s like, “excuse me, Mr. von Karma, sir, but would I be able to start puberty blockers please?”

And von Karma’s just like “WHAT!”

He’s so caught off guard and so used to thinking of Miles as “Gregory Edgeworth’s pathetic son” that he just… kinda lets Miles medically transition bc he’s so caught off guard by the realization.

And for his entire life, Miles is like. Unable to wrap his head around von Karma being surprisingly trans accepting???

[48787]

New Transmission The fucking Scientific Instrument Class Pseudocons apparently developed what they're calling "Hetero Sapience" and are corrupting the brainmodules of the non-Pseudo 'cons around them by using annoying xenophilosophy words. Soundwave tells me they're 'Greek' and 'Latin' words, apparently. Cool, I guess? Anyway, if you see any SI Class 'cons causing... issues, just try your hardest to turn your brainmodule off before you start getting infected with their weird lingo, alongside all the other issues pertaining to letting the SI Pseudocons transmit data into your brainmodule in their own weird ways. Thundercracker, on a bet with Starscream, tried to get into an argument with one of them and his head literally exploded when it started talking about Alpha Trion's "Mythological Origins" in its weird dialect. He's mostly fine, CR Pods are working at 'peak' efficiency, but the facial reconstruction is apparently impossible due to some kind of corruption. I thought it was just some weird prank but there weren't even any scorch marks or anything. Just exploded. So yeah, just avoid optical contact and auditory contact to the best of your ability and you should be fine. Otherwise, try to force-shutdown your brainmodule if you can. Shockwave is working on a cure right now, mostly because I know he had something to do with this in the first place so he's going to be the one to fix it. He probably wanted a greater justification to do that weird data-transfer idea he mentioned previously. But it also explains the weird Thunderwing hypotheticals he's been asking me lately... Can I go one fucking cycle without someone trying to "Perfect Thunderwing's Work" or whatever other idiotic drivel that I keep finding our limited energon reserves siphoned into?? It's not even a Shockwave thing, it's like every damn Cybertronian these days thinks they have the "Missing piece of the puzzle" or whatever. In fact, Shockwave might be doing this as a weird threat against the other R&D 'cons to cement himself as the one and only Decepticon "Allowed" to have resources wasted on projects like that. Ugh, now that I think about it, that's probably a correct assumption and he's probably gonna expect me to thank him for it later. Ugh, and he's probably literally right. Ugh. At least his repairs both to himself and to his lab seem to be mostly complete so further research into the SI project should hopefully come along a little faster. Both Shockwave and Soundwave think the SIs could potentially be used as some kind of specialty weapon, but we'll have to see how they work on sparkless lifeforms, like biological lifeforms or xenomechanical lifeforms. The SIs don't seem to corrupt each other, but Shockwave keeps reaffirming that they're not "Sparkless Lifeforms" because they "were never lifeforms to begin with"... but I think he's trying to hide something. Usually Soundwave is the one to pick up on that kind of technological obfuscation, but he actually agreed with Shockwave and offered to send Ratbat to try to work out exactly what each "sapient" SI is now capable of on a personal level. We could have just had regular Cybertronians aboard to fill the role SIs fill. I would've preferred K Class to fill any role an SI could fill in all honesty!! But no, constructing cold wasn't enough, we just had to try to learn how to "Construct Frozen" and the "Absolute Zeroes" just had to be put on my ship. Whatever. I've probably said too much already. This was supposed to be a warning for my ship crew, but it's looking like it'll end up being transcribed on the golden disk as well so when this new Scientific Instruments of Destruction project backfires in some absurdly bombastic way there will at least be something remaining that says I was right. End of Transmission

New Transmission Okay so I was right, but so was Shockwave and Soundwave. Or, well, they were right just enough to make sure the backfire is postponed for at least another handful of cycles. Ratbat is still in CR from the investigation, but the cure Shockwave developed seems to be effective and Thundercracker is out and aiding the repair effort. Shockwave is now in contact with one of the SIs digitally and the other few are... integrating due to the personal efforts of Soundwave. I suppose now would be pertinent to mention not all the SIs developed the "Hetero Sapience" condition, many of them are safe for interaction. Soundwave is also currently monitoring their presence, Ravage is tasked with the regular SIs and Laserbeak is tasked with the "Sapient" SIs. Shockwave probably knows exactly what caused this event but he is preoccupied with the one he no doubt is either indoctrinating or ruthlessly interrogating. Report to Soundwave if you see any suspicious behavior, he has been working very hard to ensure the SIs have their purpose clearly defined (And closely monitored). And, Starscream, stop trying to convince the SIs that you are the leader of this ship. Not only have the majority of your efforts been wasted on subsentient automata, the only one you have actually found who possesses the ability to truly listen to you immediately came to the bridge to complain about you. They were the first sapient SI I communicated with directly and it was because they felt the need to complain about you. I almost feel embarrassed for you. Come back to the bridge so you can apologize to it or so I can teach it how to laugh at you. It's practicing right now actually! This moment of chaos should hopefully be largely under control now, the actual "population" of Scientific Instrument Class Pseudocons was actually quite fewer than initially expected due to an indexing error incorrectly labeling certain shells as SI class. At the very least, we have some more specialty warriors because of it all. End of Transmission EOF

[47-protons]

many thoughts head full yet so devastatingly empty (< my brain is going about a billion miles per hour and i cannot slow it down enough to put any of the thoughts into any type of coherent statement) ((it is flicking wildly back and forth between q/smp and usmp. like if you took a metronome and set it to like a billion BPM.))

I have never frantically edited a post faster to put a slash between four letters

[dinitride-art]

looks at ao3, finds nothing new that I want to read right at this moment (probably a fic in there I’m gonna end up reading later and being like woah this is great! But I don’t have the energy for that right now). Goes to my own works page. Stares. Glances over a multi chapter fic (incomplete), moves on. Sees another multi chapter fic, my baby, (incomplete) but… there’s not much else left to do. What if… no. I couldn’t. I- I shouldn’t. But… maybe… if I opened the document I could just… look and see

[thedreadvampy]

idk I had a very interesting therap today but I just

like it's all very well to recognise that I gotta have a fucking open-ended breakdown and jump face first into the Sadness Bog sometimes instead of sitting on all my feelings

but like

I still have to go to work, you know? it's like. ok yeah have a breakdown which like until you jump into it you don't know if it's going to last an hour or a year. yeah go ahead that's all grand. you do have to get up in the morning and go to work though. you're not allowed to not do that. or to not pay the rent or not shower or not eat.

like all my friends and loved ones are constantly like 'you know you're allowed to be sad right' and it's like. AM I??? because I STILL HAVE TO PAY RENT.