#dead space fictive

[hazyaltcare]

A blue and red moodboard for Isaac Clarke x John Carver (Dead Space) with themes of disconnection from reality and the self.

Mod Haze (🎮Greyson)

[fictive-culture]

Fictive culture is.... why am i on everyones DNI simply for being from my source? Why do we keep finding super cool blogs and servers only for them to go "[source] fictives DNI" and then state in the next sentence "we dont shame introjects for their sources" ?? :(

.

[the-menage-system]

Tw: Mentions of rotting skin and corpses.

So we have new headmate named Vincent, he's a fictive, and we are so confused about his species.

Like, he has normal human traits. He's got a human torso, human legs, human arms, human hands and stuff.

But realistically? No human has purple skin.

And his source doesn't specify anything about it really. The game his source is based off of gives us a reason, but not the source (which is an AU of the game).

If we did decide that has skin is purple due to rotting, like specified in the game his source is an AU of, than would he still count as human? Dead human body? He's a walking flesh corpse in that game, but his actual source doesn't confirm if he's dead or alive.

Plus, some of the other characters in his source have grey skin that they were apparently born with, so?

Confusing. Vincent is extremely confusing.

- Alex 🃏 (All pronouns, prefers neos.)

[od4saku]

Gojo Satoru wakes with a start.

His skin is hot with emotion but the air in the bedroom is cold. Wind whistles high and sharp outside the window: a song of storm. It's wintertime in Tokyo. He thinks it may snow soon.

He's sitting up in bed, at some odd hour of the morning. And it's not unusual for him to be unable to sleep, or even to be plagued by nightmares like the one that'd just awoken him, not in the slightest— but it's different kind of restlessness that plagues him tonight. A kind that he fears not even your company can cure.

You lay so peacefully in bed, occupying the space beside him. One hand is slid beneath your pillow, and the other is reached out. Like you're trying to touch him. Hold him. His heaving chest and harsh, hollow breathing have not roused you. The blanket is not over you, rather it rests at your hips; Satoru wonders if you are cold. With gentle, quiet hands, he slides it up from your waist to cover more of you.

Satoru has mastered the art of silence. It's something that comes hand in hand with solitude, and he is all-too-familiar with solitude. Raised to be his own god, he has never not been alone. A shrine is a lonely place at night. He sits for a moment. Stares. Your chest rises and falls like ripples on a lake. The clock on the bedside table next to you reads 2:23 AM; he will not be sleeping again tonight, Satoru decides. He's quiet as he stands, shifting to the door of the bedroom— he's about to open the door when your voice cuts through the cool stillness of the air.

"S'toru?" A yawn. "Why are you up?"

He freezes. He's usually more careful. You usually don't wake up.

He has a quiet tendency of sorts, to pull away into himself. To hold it all back. There are people who love him; there are people he loves. But on nights, these lonesome nights, it all fades into the back recesses of his mind. This same tendency tells him to ignore you, or dismiss you back to your own dreaming. He wants to push you away. He wants to tell you to go back to sleep. His eyes squeeze shut, and his fingertips ghost the cold metal of the doorknob. His nightmare comes back to him in pieces. A faceless girl; the bullet that pierces her skull. Her white headband turning red. His best friend— the hole where his heart used to be. Your body gutted, like a dead animal on the side of the road, and the powerless man who'd done it coming for him next. This dream isn't so much fictive as it is macabre pieces of his past, stuck together like tracks burned into a CD that plays on loop in his mind whenever he shuts his eyes.

It's a subtle ache. It's an emptiness that lingers, persists. It's one he knows. Satoru is familiar with his own pain. He's never been able to shake it. It's a piece of him, the other half of his heart. He is stained blue. If he turns around to face you, he will not be able to leave. He will not be able to spare you of his own pain. He'll burden you with all that he feels, all that he is, more than he already has. If he walks out the bedroom door now, he knows he'll be okay— he always is. That's what he's always done. He's always walked out. He's always faced it all alone.

"Satoru?" You call for him again, voice raspy with sleep, and his resolve crumbles.

He's always faced it alone— but he doesn't have to. He believes it when he looks at you, head propped up with a hand, sleepy gaze fixed on him. Your eyes widen when you catch the look in his eyes. He's sure they betray how he feels. He always had a hard time lying to you.

You've known Satoru since high school. Everything he's been through, you've been through with him. You'd nearly died by his side, at Toji's hands, all those years ago. You'd stood by him when Suguru left. You'd given him space when he needed it, and gifted him with your company when he'd wanted it again. His love for you is something soft like fresh snow. Renewing, beautiful, and chilling, right down to the bone. He knows you love him, too. He sees it in you constantly. He recalls a memory from only a few months back; you'd gone out on a 'girl's night' with your friends and returned wasted, hardly able to stand, heels in Shoko's hands as she dropped you off to his apartment with an amused smile.

"Where are we, Ieiri? T's not my apartment," he had heard you slur as he opened the door. It was late. He'd predicted this outcome, and he smiled when he saw you clinging to Shoko's arm. Your nails were sure to leave indents.

"You need your babysitter tonight," she replied, gesturing to where Satoru stood in the doorframe. With a slight delay, your eyes widened when you saw him and you let go of Shoko, surging forward into your boyfriend's arms.

"'Toru! I didn't know you'd be here!" You were hardly intelligible, as you began to press scores of kisses to his face. They were open-mouthed and heavy, leaving lipstick stains on his cheek, jaw, chin, nose. Every time he would try to get a word in, you'd plant a clumsy kiss to his lips, silencing him and sending him into bouts of laughter. Shoko waved him off, and he'd helped you inside, where you promptly passed out in your dress. But not before telling him about how much you'd missed him. He'd slipped your dress off with gentle hands and helped you into warmer, more comfortable clothes, and carried you to bed.

That blatant show of affection, the way your love spilt through the cracks of your porcelain mask— he knows you care for him, too. He thinks about that night now and feels it again. The ghost of your lips and hands and warm, soft kisses. The bubbling laughter that escapes your throat, the slew of “I love you’s” that you don’t even try to contain. He believes in your love for him. He believes in it more than anything. So when you tilt your head with worry and ask him, "is everything okay?" Satoru lets himself shatter, then fall apart in front of you without thinking twice. He's always faced his pain alone— he doesn't have to. You love him. You are willing to hold it all for him.

He chokes in a harsh, strangled breath, and you’re up on your feet before he can inhale again.

“Hey,” you whisper as you place a hand on his shoulder, and your voice is so soft, so sweet, so real, he can’t help how he slumps into your body. You welcome the added weight, rearranging your hands so that one falls to his neck and hair and the other is draped around his waist. “It’s okay. What’s wrong? It’s okay. I’m here.”

He can’t speak. Doesn’t trust himself to. Satoru settles for letting breathing into the crook of your neck as you rub his shoulders comfortingly, whispering sweet words he can’t quite understand into his scalp. He feels the ache dripping off his bones with every circle your fingers trace across the small of his back. He feels the rot dissolve. He tightens his hold on you. He loves you. He will let you hold him.

A sudden fear grips him. The insecurities of his dream come rushing back at full tilt. His hands squeeze the skin you’ve offered, so tight that it might bruise, and he looks into your eyes. They shine with something unsaid. He refuses to listen his grip, to let you go— if he does he fears that you won’t come back.

It’s a common theme in his life, for those he loves to banish, just like that. The minute he allows himself to care, they’re gone. And what of this love, like no other he’s felt? If he releases you, if he leaves, you’ll be gone, too. He can’t have that. Can’t handle it. The thought of your absence is more than he can bare, so he lets his head fall to your shoulder again, maximizing the contact between you and him. If you feel him on you, if you feel his touch, his love, you can’t leave. You won’t. He won’t let you.

Satoru’s truth is that he is selfish, disgustingly so. His hands hold and don’t let go— they grip, grasping onto whatever they can— loose fabric, fingers, trailing up to the nail, roots of hair, a forearm— he can’t let go. He won’t. Like a little boy holding onto a toy, tightly, so tight. White-knuckles and glossy eyes, he holds on. Oh, he’s selfish. He’s selfish with the way he clings to a memory long past, meant to be forgotten. But Satoru holds all the same, like a lifeline, like a priest holds a bible. A religious devotion, a saint’s zeal.

He holds onto you for what feels like ages but must only have been the better half of an hour before you ease him back onto the bed, so he’s lying curled into your lap. He won’t let you move, let you stop touching him. He fears you might disappear. But you don’t move, either.

You remain still beneath him, present with your touch. You’re still murmuring things too quiet for him to hear over the sound of his heartbeat in his throat, but your tone is soft and soothing. Like cool water being poured over a hot open wound. Like a salve. You don’t leave, not when his heavy breathing turns to shallow gasps, not when his shallow gasps turn to the quiet sounds of sleep. When he wakes, Satoru will find you asleep in the safe position he’d remembered you in when he’d drifted off.

His love is selfish. His mind is a mess, mayhem. He is greedy and cruel and tortured, and you will stay through it all, he realizes that morning, as he watches your chest rise and fall from your lap. For all of Satoru’s burdens, and all his doubts, for all the pain that weighs him down and sinks him like an anchor to the bottom of his own brain, you will stay. You will stay, you will stay, you have stayed. The familiarity of you is chilling in the most comforting way. It’s nostalgia. The emptiness still lingers, but it lessens. The dull ache still makes its home in his chest, but there’s something new, now. Something he thinks may have always been there, but he’s been too blinded to realize it until now. There’s you, too.

(Outside the window, snow falls silently. Satoru will have no bad dreams when night falls.)

“There were all my secrets, spread out on the table. Like someone had taken my insides and scooped them out for everyone to see. Look, here are her stupid hopes! Look, here’s her dumb soft heart!”

Carol Rifka Brunt / Tell the Wolves I’m Home

[pennyellee]

CHAPTER IV - ustulation

LACRIMOSA | MYG MAFIA YANDERE AU

pairings: mafia leader!yoongi x f!reader genre: mafia!au, yandere au, historical au

summary: Their interlocking gaze served as a butterfly effect on his heart, stirring it to the core. She, in turn, only dreams to find a way to escape. But perchance, over time she might forcefully learn to love the man who has taken so much from her.

Thus unfolds a twisted tale of love and loss, of hope and despair, of life and death. The music reverberated through the dimly-lit streets. Tears of sorrow, weeping symphony - reflects the hurt, the scars that linger deep within and the wounds that never healed. Lacrimosa.

chapter warnings: minors dni 18+ | mafia au, dark!yoongi, mafia!yoongi, yandere, kidnapping, mentions of God, blood, incision wound, fictive mafia clan traditions, manipulation, possessive/obsessive behaviour, angst, mentions of death, overwhelming, violence, threats, intimate encounter, kissing

beta read by @chaoticpuff17

word count: 5,6K

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, old social norms and traditions, which we do not condone.

m.list CHAPTER I CHAPTER II CHAPTER III GAME OF GO CHAPTER V

ustulation (n.) a burning lust

In the hidden embrace of a secluded mountain valley, a village of hanoks stirred to life on a tranquil winter's morning. The air was crisp, a symphony of silence. The Song of the Dead toned down for some time.

The dawn’s gentle light bathed the valley, wisps of mist from the frost-kissed earth, adding an ethereal veil to the scenery she watched carefully from the closed window.

The majestic mountains, ancient pines and stoic rocks stood as sentinels of the valley's serenity. She could see them from this side of the house. Y/N sighed, holding a cup of tea in her two small hands, warming herself up on this chilly morning.

“Is something bothering you, my love?”

Yoongi had tried his hardest the past month to get under her skin. There were times when he thought perhaps, she would welcome him into her heart one day. However, her repeated escape attempts made him think otherwise. He was giving her the space she needed with carefulness in every action he took. The young leader knew well that she wouldn't be able to escape while they resided here, in the core of the village. That did not stop her though.

As if nature herself wished to bestow a gift upon him, the first snowflakes began to descend from the heavens just as they were returning from that unfortunate, eventful day in Seoul. The snowflakes floated gently, even now, like fragile dreams.

“Are you feeling well? You spent a lot of time in the snow yesterday.” He murmured after she didn’t grant him an answer to his previous question. They had to postpone the wedding as the snow and frost reigned, making it unsafe to pass through the tunnels. The passage was being cleared by workers for more than a week now. Time seemed to stand still as they absorbed the grace that enveloped their world.

“I feel fine,” she muttered back, not even looking his way at the table.

“I’ve been good to you, haven’t I?” He asked, demanding to speak to her.

“After all the stunts you pulled, you’re still free to roam around without anyone guarding you. Not speaking of the fact that I’m letting you sleep alone—” he was going on rumble.

The young leader is patient, but he longed for her more than ever. The fact that they’re still not newlyweds, and he cannot show love to every inch of her body, make her swell with his child, was frustrating him beyond repair. She had let her guard down once and allowed him to take the chance and kiss her on the cheek, startling her yet again.

“—you’re so blinded,” she said suddenly, turning back to face him.

“Excuse me?” said he, very surprised.

“You go on about how you’re good to me, how this is God’s doing, and that I should be grateful—” she threw her hands in the air, frustrated by his demanding nature.

While the leader thought he was granting her the time she needed, Y/N felt more and more anxious every day. Her heart is still itching to be free, yet she cannot stop thinking about what her selfishness would cause if she indeed managed to escape.

“Well maybe if you didn’t run every time, I tried to show you affection, I wouldn't have to remind you of all this.” He spat angrily, smashing the chopsticks on the table, standing up.

“I’m patient—” said he, getting closer to her standing form by the large windows. “—but I swear to God, you’ll disobey me again, and that’s where my hospitality ends, Y/N.”

“I just—” she stammered, making him stop in his attempt to close the distance between them. “I’m scared,” she whimpered. Y/N didn’t know why these words came out of her, nor why there were tears. All she felt was exhaustion.

The scarred leader’s expression softened. Is she finally confiding herself to him, opening up?

“My love…” He approached her, taking the cup from her shaking hands, putting it aside and lastly taking her face into his hands, his thumbs wiping her tears away.

“I can make you happy. You just have to let me in.” He whispered, moving his face closer to hers. Y/N knows they will cross the boundary sooner or later. The winter is making it impossible for her to both run away and survive. Should Y/N listen to her mother’s words and let him make her his queen? The older female’s proclamation circled her mind at night while listening to the cracking of wood in the fireplace.

“Please let me in, dove.” He pleaded again, his eyes filled with sincerity and longing.

And once she nodded her head in approval, he didn’t hesitate to press his lips softly against hers. Time stood still, and the world around them faded into a blur of insignificance. Their hearts pounded in sync for a brief moment. She felt a warmth she couldn't admit, even to herself. Y/N wanted to hate him so much. Despite her inner conflict, she could sense the unspoken longings from his side, his desire to deepen the kiss carefully without overwhelming her. He wished to never let her go and feared that she would vanish in his hold. His lips were tender and tentative, like the brush of a butterfly's wings upon a fragile petal. Y/N knows he is holding himself back. The kiss was addictive, momentarily lifting the burden from her chest.

As he went to slide his hands on the swell of her heart-shaped bottom, a sudden cough interrupted the intimate moment. Y/N quickly pulled away, feeling shame and embarrassment wash over her caused by the sudden intrusion. She stole a single glance at the man standing by the door, grinning mischievously. Her cheeks turned crimson as she felt shy and exposed, but the young leader kept holding her in his embrace, not letting her go so soon after their first shared kiss.

Smiling like a teenager, he said: “What’s going on Hoseok-shi.” Y/N could imagine he is smiling widely as she had observed when she apologised to him for hitting his head with the stone. He waved it off quickly stating ‘I would be a fool to not forgive my new sister.’ She pretended not to be affected by his words, but it made the man she was to marry smile even more mischievously.

“I need to speak to you, and Y/N should get ready for Hyung’s wedding,” Hoseok said, his eyes gleaming with some secret knowledge.

Y/N exchanged a puzzled glance with Hoseok before nodding and extracting herself from the young leader's embrace, her cheeks still flushed from the kiss. Uncertainty hung in the air as Yoongi let Y/N go and walk away, admiring her graceful figure.

“What?” Yoongi asked, turning his attention to his trusted friend, who wore a smirk that hinted at hidden amusement.

“Nothing,” Hoseok replied, still smiling under his nose.

“Shall we?” Yoongi said, collecting himself and walking towards his brother.

“You won’t fancy what news I bring, brother.”

Silk banners fluttered in the breeze, announcing the joyous union to all who ventured near. The bride, a vision of grace and elegance, is adorned in a hanbok of flowing silk and intricate embroidery.

The groom, dressed in the timeless attire of a traditional hanbok, stood tall and resolute. His eyes fixed unwaveringly upon his beloved, as though she embodied the very essence of his being — a force that fuelled his heart.

Amidst the enchanting spectacle of celebration, the weight of tradition resonated with each uttered word.

The outside picture portrayed the unbreakable bonds of family and the beauty of two souls finding solace in one another. Y/N, however, couldn’t help but have a feeling that the poor girl the doctor was marrying did not find herself at the altar because of true love but fearful coercion. It reminded her of her circumstances — a pawn in a larger scheme.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm golden glow upon the snow-covered land, Y/N sat beside her to-be husband, observing his unusual joy. Accordingly. Today, one of his brothers was finally taking a wife and his bride in a momentary vulnerability that had allowed him to share a tender kiss with her, amplifying his joy to an even greater extent.

Her ears perked up once she heard the celebration of the union before her. She couldn't resist side-eyeing the other brothers she had encountered over the past month, and her gaze locked with Kim Namjoon, Kkangpae’s right-hand man.

Y/N remembers Kim Namjoon. His piercing, cold gaze bore into her soul, especially so during one of her escape attempts, when he forcefully brought her back to the main house, reprimanding her for disobedience.

‘I can either give up my life to save you or I can be your enemy Y/N.’ Namjoon had warned her on a night when she sought solace near the fireplace in Yoongi's office, wrapped in blankets to warm herself even more. She was rarely allowed in this sacred room unless her actions demanded attention.

That night, Yoongi was dealing with business matters. He came back to the main house to her shivering and crying form. It is breaking his heart every time he sees her in such a state but simultaneously, he wishes she would cross the border of submissiveness and obey him.

Y/N ignored his warning just yesterday when she attempted to run away again. Hence, the gaze. If she was afraid of his next steps, she wouldn’t let him decipher that.

She snapped out of her mind as Yoongi rose from his seat, taking her hand to help her up. Y/N looked at him with a mixture of confusion and concern. He gently nudged her behind him, positioning himself as a protective shield. She looked around her, seeing that everyone else was still seated. Their looks show emotions —excitement, joy, and pride.

Her confusion heightened when Yoongi began unbuttoning her fur coat that was hiding her long red qipao, and panic swelled within her.

"What are you doing?!” She whispered in distress.

“Behave.” He whispered back to her, leaving the coat open revealing her breasts and tummy.

Leaving her standing close to him, he held her hand tightly, as if afraid she might flee at any moment. Y/N noticed that Namjoon's attention had shifted to Seokjin's new bride. The bride's trembling form approached them, and Y/N observed the gleaming knife in Seokjin's hand, quickly realizing what was about to happen.

It whispered promises of power, of secrets that could be revealed with a single stroke, but it also carried the weight of consequences and a toll on the bearer's conscience. As the girl's hand was carefully sliced with the knife, Y/N couldn't help but empathize with her pain. Her father had a similar tradition; however, women weren’t involved; she was still left in the dark about her role in all this.

The girl then knelt, extending her bloodied hand toward the leader, reciting her pledge of loyalty to Kkangpae Min. Yoongi covered her hand with his other one, acknowledging her devotion and signaling for her to continue with the moving tradition.

The leader then used his left hand to guide Y/N forward, leaving her yet again puzzled and bewildered. A moment later, she gasped with shock as she felt the girl's bloodied hand touch her lower belly. Yoongi held her firmly in place, preventing any instinctual step back.

"I, with my blood, pledge my loyalty to you, Min Buin. Blessed be the fruit of your future legacy, Kkangpae Min," the girl recited, her words carrying both reverence and a touch of melancholy. The significance of the moment and the responsibility it bestowed upon Y/N left her grappling with a maelstrom of emotions.

“Well you handled that well,” a voice came from behind her, and Y/N turned to find Namjoon standing there, watching her by the fireplace in Yoongi's office. She had been curious when he would approach her, knowing that Yoongi had gone to check if the tunnels were passable.

Y/N couldn't quite discern the tone of Namjoon's remark—whether it held irony or genuine praise. Such was the enigmatic nature of this man.

“I suppose,” she muttered, hugging herself for comfort.

“I personally thought you’d slap her hand off. Such an act would undoubtedly stir up trouble,” said he as he settled down in one of the armchairs.

Her mind replayed the events of the pledge, and she confessed truthfully, “I was too shocked to do so.” The new bride's pledge of loyalty to her and her empty womb had caught her off guard, leaving her uneasy.

“Your father is not demanding newcomers to pledge loyalty?” He asked, curious about their inner circle practices. She smirked, sensing his attempt to pry.

“Yes, but not to my mother,” she revealed.

“You hold an important position within our ranks,” the right-hand man noted. “And that, my dear, is why we are having this little conversation.” Y/N looked up, finding him extending a glass filled with what she presumed to be rice wine or soju.

“I genuinely want to be your friend Y/N—” he said while passing the glass to her. “But you’re very hard to please, princess,” he exclaimed.

“By ‘wanting to be my friend’, you mean the part when you threaten me again,” she retorted with a scoff, alluding to his past warnings.

“That is a necessary evil,” he conceded. “But on a serious note, Y/N,” he drew closer, taking a seat slightly further away to grant her personal space, “Why?”

“What do you mean, why?” she asked, feeling dumbfounded by his question.

"Is life here truly so terrible that all you can think of is escape?" he sighed, genuinely curious about her state of mind.

“Not all I can think of—” she began, trying to defend herself.

"Oh, so you did not attempt to escape just a day ago, and two days before that, and so on," he interjected, pointing out her recent attempts.

“What do you want to hear from me Namjoon?” she countered, feeling the pressure of his questioning.

“Hoseok hyung overheard your conversation,” he finally gave away the one piece of information he sought to address “What are you afraid of?”

Y/N gazed into the dancing flames, his words echoing in her mind. Memories of the recent kiss with Yoongi and the ensuing events flooded her thoughts. She felt her spirit on the brink of collapse, her attempts to escape repeatedly thwarted, causing harm to others in the process. Y/N was exhausted.

“I suppose I expected my life to take a different trajectory than this,” she admitted, reflecting on her circumstances.

“I can assure you that this will be the best that ever happened to you—” Namjoon insisted, trying to be reassuring.

“And that, Namjoon, is where my disbelief lies,” she interrupted him, peering straight into his eyes. He sighed, running a hand across his face, expressing a sense of frustration mixed with genuine concern.

“You didn’t give it a chance!” He raised his voice, unable to hide his emotions. He wanted this clan to function as it did for countless years and what’s more, he wanted his hyung to be happy.

“I’m going to ask you once again, and I want the truth,” he implored, trying to get to the heart of the matter. “What are you so scared of?”

Y/N decided to remain silent, knowing that her response would likely incite further frustration from him. "Is it sex?" he suddenly asked, shocking her with his explicitness. "Are you scared to be punished for your sins?”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” she returned his rage, denying his accusation.

“Am I?” he continued probing.

“Yes, Namjoon! You are! You think I’m this shallow?!” she lashed out.

“No, but all you let us see is the shallow version of you. Apart from this morning,” he declared, referring to a rare moment of vulnerability she had shown.

“And it wasn’t meant for anybody to hear nor see that,” she snapped back at him.

“I understand your reasoning, Y/N. But we’re your family now, you don’t have to shield yourself against us,” he pleaded, hoping to break down her walls.

“He loves you, Y/N,” Namjoon continued, trying to make her see the sincerity in Yoongi's feelings.

“That’s very hard to believe too.” She remarked, still sceptical, looking right through his eyes. He took a deep breath, lifting his hand to touch his face.

“Alright, let’s make a deal,” he proposed, catching her by surprise and piquing her interest.

“About?” She asked, curiously.

“Give it a year,” said the right-hand man. By making a deal with her, he is going behind the back of his leader and, even more importantly — his dearest friend. Nevertheless, he felt obligated to do this for him.

"If you're still 'scared' of whatever you say you are, and this is not the life you'll be comfortable living, I'll personally see to it that you'll be transported to America," he promised, leaving her momentarily speechless.

“What is the catch?” Y/N wasn't naive. She knew there must be some ulterior motive.

"You'll stop being a flight risk. If you attempt to run again, the deal is off, and I will personally eliminate each person foolish enough to aid you since your arrival—one by one, ending with your cousin," he stated, laying out the condition.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she absorbed his chilling words. Her mind raced as she contemplated her choices. "That's the only condition?" she asked, ensuring she understood the terms before giving her answer.

"Well, naturally, I expect you to genuinely give it a chance, meaning that you will accept Hyung as your husband, leader, and lover," he emphasized the last noun, urging her to take his words seriously. Y/N stopped for a moment to collect her thoughts together.

“This is a one time offer Y/N. I won’t be this generous again,” he added. She struggled to read him, but she couldn’t. Namjoon was well known for being unpredictable — a quality that made him a perfect fit as the right-hand man. No one could ever say with certainty what his next move would be.

“Fine,” she finally relented, her voice barely a whisper. Namjoon extended his hand, sealing the deal with a firm shake. He leaned in closer to Y/N.

“I trust that you’ll be on your best behaviour from now on.” He whispered to her. There were so many emotions in her eyes right now that she was working hard to process. She barely nodded and averted her gaze down. Y/N couldn’t bear to look into his intimidating eyes no more.

“Very well,” he murmured, his gaze still fixed on her. “The tunnels have been cleared, and the wedding will take place this week." He told her.

Y/N's heart skipped a beat at the mention of the impending wedding. She was praying that perhaps she has more time to think of what to do with her situation. According to Seokjin, who came to visit and spent some time on occasion with her when his leader could not, the tunnels wouldn’t be cleared out until the end of December, giving her another month in total.

“Brother!” exclaimed Namjoon suddenly, breaking her train of thought. Y/N followed his gaze to the sliding door, where Yoongi stood, undoing the cufflinks of his shirt, the suit jacket already gone. "I was just telling Y/N the good news," Namjoon smiled at him.

Throughout this month, Y/N observed the strong brotherhood among Yoongi's most trusted and closest men. The deepest connection Yoongi shared was undoubtedly with Namjoon, which explained why he was the right-hand man.

Yoongi displayed a particularly protective nature towards his younger brothers. She had yet to meet Jungkook, the youngest, who had been recently assigned as captain of the front unit, as she overheard. On the other hand, Jimin was more involved in the open, managing the front business and whatever lay beneath it. The Chosen Hotel was highly popular among Koreans but was eagerly open to international guests too. Y/N suspected that the true core of the business was settled elsewhere, and she was eager to uncover it.

Seokjin, recently married, primarily served as the inner family's doctor. However, the Min clan also faced a shortage of actual medical staff like, so he had to run between the sanctuary, as she had learnt this place was called, and a front hospital.

Taehyung remained a mystery to her, despite seeing him in family pictures and hearing Yoongi mention him occasionally. He was supposed to represent the law in Yoongi's business dealings, ensuring the safety and legitimacy of their operations, including the handling of illegal earnings. Therefore, Taehyung is the safety pin of this organization. Whomever fucks up, he is there to defend them.

And lastly, Hoseok, a surprising contrast of joy and darkness. Y/N was taken aback that such a buoyant personality could be involved in such sinister activities. He was the arsonist who also took care of assassinations. Additionally, the clan engaged in money laundering, and Hoseok was responsible for collecting debts, often involuntarily.

Her eyes swelled with tears she was refusing to let out. Yoongi’s eyes met Y/N's, and she could see a mixture of concern and worry flicker across his face. A silent understanding passed between them, and they knew that they would need to have a private conversation later.

“Well, it seems you two need more privacy,” said Namjoon while he was collecting himself from the cushion he was sitting on.

“Did Tae call?” Yoongi asked before Namjoon could leave. “He did before Hyung’s wedding, to send his good wishes and—” he gazed over to Y/N who was carefully listening to their conversation, hanging on every word.

“—and?” Yoongi asked as he unbuttoned his shirt, a sight she had seen far too often for her liking. He was not shy with her; he could easily undress before her without a second thought. His attempts to walk in on her while she was changing didn't go unnoticed either, though she made sure to show her displeasure by throwing vases at him to keep him out.

Only now did Y/N remember the glass of alcoholic beverage that Namjoon had offered her, remaining untouched in her hands. She decided to take a sip, trying to ease her nerves before the conversation she was dreading.

“—and everything went well, as expected,” said Namjoon observing her as she downed the burning soju.

“Send telegraph to Wang and other families. We’re leaving for Chosen in two hours.” Y/N straightened herself, eyes wide open in disbelief.

“W-what do you mean in two hours?” She stammered. It was just past eight when she gazed at the clock on the wall. That would mean they'd depart at ten and arrive in Seoul around midnight.

"—I thought they just cleared the way. Why are we—" Yoongi cut her off abruptly. "I am waiting no more," he said firmly, locking his gaze with hers, leaving her in shock once again.

"On your way, please inform the maids to pack, and I want the cabin ready," Yoongi instructed Namjoon, who memorised every task with a sense of responsibility, seemingly disregarding Y/N's shattered spirit in the wake of this sudden rush.

“Can we at least talk about it?!” she raised her voice, causing the two men to stop in their tracks. They exchanged knowing looks, making it clear that this was non-negotiable. Yoongi clicked his tongue, biting his cheeks from inside, then turned to face his fiancée with a deceptive sweetness in his tone.

"Of course, my love," he said.

He nodded to Namjoon, who immediately took off, glancing at Y/N with a silent reminder to behave.

“What’s wrong?” Yoongi asked nonchalantly as if this were a perfectly normal scenario.

“I don’t know, do you think this is right?” Y/N kept her tone tense, signalling her discontent.

“Nothing is more right than this,” he answered, pouring himself a drink while taking her empty glass and refilling it with soju.

"Yoongi—" she began to protest, but he didn't let her speak further, having heard her excuses countless times.

“No Y/N. I’m not negotiating this time. We’re getting married tomorrow afternoon and that’s final,” he stated sternly.

"You could at least wait a day! Do you think everyone will just jump because you said it's happening right now? And more importantly, let me mentally prepare for it?!” Her frustration grew, and she gestured wildly, almost knocking over the refilled glass that Yoongi handed her.

“They are already in town. The telegraph is just a confirmation that it will happen tomorrow.” Her distress and panic were understandable; she had believed she had more time than a few hours.

“And you didn’t think of telling me first?!” she raised her voice even higher. That she was in distress and panic was very understandable. Y/N thought she had more time than a few hours.

“No, because you were finally letting me in—” said he, downing the contents of his glass in one go.

“You knew this would happen for a month, and you would have had more time to prepare yourself if running away fifteen hundred times a day wouldn’t be on your mind,” he fired back, raising his voice at her, and immediately asserting dominance.

"I'm getting very tired of this. One step forward and ten million miles back, damn it!" he cursed, slamming the glass down on his desk in frustration. The tension in the room was palpable, and Y/N felt her heart sinking as she realized that her hopes of a slower pace for their relationship had been shattered.

“I have a very easy solution to that—” she said, raising herself to stand up to him.

“—Let me go,” she emphasized every single word, her frustration boiling over, and momentarily forgetting about her deal with Namjoon.

Her emotions were running high, and she went to pull the ring off to prove her point, but he forcefully grabbed her right hand, stopping her in her tracks. Anger filled his eyes as he crossed his other hand, grabbed her by the back of her neck, and crashed his lips onto hers, pressing their bodies against the nearest wall. He didn't give her a chance to catch her breath as he passionately bruised her lips.

He let go of her hand once he was sure she wouldn't resist. With his now free hand, he lifted her leg, wrapping it around his waist, squeezing her ass cheek, making her yelp and by that creating an opening to slip his tongue into her mouth. Y/N had no idea how long their intimate encounter lasted, but she could feel her head spinning from the lack of oxygen. Just as she managed to stop his other hand from slipping under her dress, aiming for her pulsing heat, he parted from her, both of them breathing heavily.

“I’m sorry. I got carried away,” he apologised, his eyes fixed on her now swollen lips. Y/N was taken aback, her head still spinning, and she couldn't think straight. He had such a powerful effect on her, and this aspect of life was entirely new to her, having been kept away from such experiences.

"I wish, —" he started, nibbling at her lower lip while he continued to speak, "—you would acknowledge my love for you." Yoongi kissed her again, not giving her a chance to recover or speak up, moaning softly into her lips.

"We are too close. I will never give you up.” he declared, wiping her tears away gently.

“I can’t have you running though—” he leaned into lavish attention on her neck, placing butterfly kisses up to her jaw and stopping at her lips again—

"I'll overlook this lapse of senses if you keep up this good behaviour, my love, but the next time you disobey me, I won't only discipline you; someone will lose their head.”

She trembled against him, feeling lost, scared, and vulnerable. Her breath hitched as she tried to speak up. Yoongi was beyond himself for getting her into this state where she didn’t dare to oppose his words and stopped fighting him. If she won’t let him in willingly, he will force her to open up to him.

“I told you to not take that ring off your finger ever again.” She remembers the words he uttered to her in the garden where he proposed to her. That she agreed still feels surreal to her. Running got her nowhere, but she still had a selfish feeling inside her that he was bluffing and wouldn’t dare to seriously hurt anybody.

“Now be a good girl and apologise for disobeying me.” He tightened his grip at her waist, finally staring right into her teary eyes. Y/N felt lost, scared and vulnerable. Her lips were trembling, and her breath hitched again once she opened her mouth to speak.

“Shhh, it’s okay baby, just say it.” He cooed, lifting his hand to caress her cheek gently.

“I-I am sorry,” she finally sobbed. If there was one thing the scarred boy excelled at, it was getting his way. He smiled at her, pleased with her response.

He smiled at her. “That’s more like it, baby.”

Y/N longed to curl up in her small apartment, where she resided while studying at college. She desperately wished she could turn back time.

“I have something for you,” he said suddenly, looking for any sign of curiosity from her. Yoongi stepped away to his desk, leaving her pressed against the wall, hesitant to move an inch. He opened one of his drawers and pulled out an envelope. Y/N couldn't make out the handwriting, but her eyes widened as she recognised it.

“Your aunt entrusted me with this letter when we came to the conclusion that you should be mine one day,” he said, holding the envelope in his hands. Y/N desperately wished that the answer and a solution to her fears would be contained in that envelope. She was mulling over the platform of this match-making her aunt orchestrated.

Wang Xiaoqing very much upheld the meaning of her name in the time she lived. Blessed with intelligence. And she was a fearless mafia wife who brought pride to her late husband. There are other intriguing things about Y/N’s beloved auntie. Xiaoqing is by far the only member in her large family tree that married for love. Y/N admired her aunt and, perhaps, seeing that it was possible to marry for love, made her blindly believe she could also have the freedom to choose her partner.

She dreamt of a little house in the woods, not far from a lake or a small town. Growing some goods in the garden, by night sitting near the fireplace, the love of her life holding her. She would work in a nearby hospital, or study overseas to become a doctor were all part of her fever dream. She knew it was unlikely to come true, given her family's ties to the syndicate.

But she could least dream about it. For a moment, when she was on the ferry to Jeju Island, she thought she would make it. Y/N knew the risk she was taking once she entrusted her well-being to Chan-yeol. She knew his role was insignificant and not a threat to any syndicate and it wouldn’t certainly attract Yakuza, but she was also aware that he could have been the only one to send her to the far land. She believed that God chose this path for her instead of being an arm jewel to some Yakuza brute.

Reality snapped her back from her swirling thoughts as he put the envelope back in the drawer.

“W-what are you doing?” she asked, taking a step forward.

“I will give it to you—” he promised “and tell you everything you want to know—” locking the drawer with a key.

“—After you’ll walk the aisle to me, without any of your misfits,” he finished his sentence.

"To strengthen your cooperation for tomorrow, I'm having your cousin and her husband at gunpoint during the ceremony," he added, making her scream in protest.

"I won't do anything stupid," she pleaded, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Just let them be, please. They have little son, Yoongi.”

“I know, that’s why they are the perfect bargain to make you obedient. If this doesn't work, you still have other family members—," Y/N couldn't bear it any longer; she closed the distance between them, standing just inches away from him.

“If you would love me—” she started but before she could finish, he grabbed her waist and pulled her even closer, pressing his body against hers. She could feel his torso and lower body. He bowed down next to her ear.

“I’ll stop this necessary coercion when you’ll learn your place, my love.”

Yoongi loved making her squirm and overwhelm her. He was basking in the effect he had on her. The fact that she will be his wife in less than twelve hours was a source of satisfaction for him.

“You were my woman for a long time now, and you will be my woman till death do us apart.”

I N T E R L O G U E

“—And you’re certain that the man is on his way to Seoul.” The leader inquired of his trusted friend and partner, seated in the quiet confines of his home office.

“Yes,” Hoseok affirmed with a nod.

"Is there any additional information that I need to be aware of?” Yoongi's voice carried a hint of tension, his teeth gritted in anger.

"As of now, there's nothing more to report," the younger male replied, keeping the conversation concise.

“Do you want me to eliminate him?” Hoseok offered, waiting for his leader's command.

“Not just yet, I was hoping to have the pleasure myself.”

to be continued

author’s note: so here we are at chapter IV!! ♥ Thank you all so much for for sticking around chummers ♥ They kissed and much moreee!!! We'll see what we'll happen next. I hereby promise to post the chapter sooner than the end of Semptember, or I hope so xD Tho I have some wips to write and if I'll finish some then I'll post something new too ♥

Massive shout-out to Bex, the queen @chaoticpuff17, for beta another chapter!

Love you!!!!

Don't be a silent reader, comment, re-blog, heart, asks are more than welcome ♥

keep in mind - I'm not an expert on chinese, korean and japanese culture, but I tried to research everything realistic I wanted to add to the story. Nonetheless, take it as a fiction.

let's be friends chummers ♥

lots of love,

𝖕𝖊𝖓𝖓𝖞𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖊

taglist: @beautifulcloudfestival - @chaoticpuff17 - @honsoolgloss - @jingerbreadoutofstock - @moscow778 - @januara26 - @dinosolecito - @yoongislatinagff - @xyahrinx - @hi12345567 - @nochuel - @deltamoon666 - @bbkissme99 - @darkuni63 - @nansasa - @sazsazsaz - @missmin - @strxwbloody - @royallyjjk - @jaiuneamesolitaiire - @shadowyjellyfishfest - @bbgniecyy - @elayne321 - @seojunandsoju - @bun-27 - @whipwhoops - @wobblewobble822 - @whofan88 - @haneyyy - @lostgirlinthewoodss @secfir @btspurplesky @elleflying07 - @pamzn - @megseungmin

[syunkiss]

Hi, we are the TWU sys! TWU stands for "The Wine Uncles."

Please read the informations below before proceeding to scroll :)

We stand with Palestine! Palestine WILL be free! 🇵🇸

"Making such a mess, It's getting permanently painted in my head, and there's no going back. So love me like I'm dead until there's nothing left and watch me decompose, till I'm skin and bones, vulnerable ..." /lyr

system moodboards: #system moodboard

host rentry ::: click here

ship blocklist ::: click here

hello! we are your favorite weird tbmc system

neurodivergent • heavy fictive !!

> frequent fronters are Chuuya {🍷} and Charlie {🐧} <

☆ lgbtqia+ . . agere caregiver n little . petre pet and caretaker . ☆

<3

we love drawing, writing stories/AUs and our major hyperfocus is bungo stray dogs and malice mizer !!

chuu's random babbles are usually under the tag #🍷.txt

"Mama, there's a war outside, can I go play with it?" /lyr

IMPORTANT 🌡but if you prefer something more simplified, click here

dni: well, follow the basic dni criteria. proshippers >>i dont care if its fictional characters . i dislike incest and pedophilia and whatever like a normal person and idc if theyre fictional or if theyre real .<< (principally odazai or morizai shippers get the fuck out of here.), radqueers/transmed, MAPs, NOMAPS (basically pedos who dont want to touch childs), anti-antis, "transDID/transOSDD" whatever, pro-ana/pro-sh, xenosatanists and all those shit.

yes I am an anti but i am not harassing anyone . im just blocking yall . im not directly harsssing anyone and if i ever did it just tell me :3 im not wasting my time and going to yalls askbox just to send things i am just blocking and moving on stop being stupid.

Its ok but meh: irl g0re centered accs, n$fw accs (nothing agaisnt yall it just make me very uncomfortable) if you post abt Twitter (X) or has your twt acc link on your account (nothing agaisnt you too! it triggers me deeply for personal reasons.)

We are mogai and antishipper (as said before, anti-harassment. just block and move on.), multishipper and rareshipper. selfshippers are also very welcome here :) (proship/comship/darkship block us and go away)

we will post about cultural topics sometimes too. i just love my country's culture

We don't mind jokes or lines with sexual connotations but please don't overdo it. || we have littles in our system so please be respectful towards them if they post something (it'll be tagged)

i am also very anxious and easily triggered by specific things so dont mind if I post vents here sometimes. its our safe space. however block the tag "vent" if youre uncomfortable w it. -Chuuya

• be careful ahead: cute monsters awaits

- your local host is Chuuya! ☆

chuu's sfw blog (inactive) : @vampoth-baby

arts blog: @slugidiot

Rp blogs : @lippythepup @corpse-to-ability @cafe-uzumaki @stoicsleuth @sora-s-conscious @wimpiest-in-the-east @aka-s-sheep

Blinkies and images !!!

ill kill the person who started the trend of calling me little sheep /silly

fav posts ever :: X , X , X , X , X , X , X , X , X , ○ , X , X , X , X , X , X , X , X , X , X

the ones with "○" may be triggering

old usernames: @ hartedfearsys

tags to block : # vent # tw # angry rant

[council-of-councillers]

remade and edited our intro, we are the council of councillers or worms off the strings.

we mainly post system/plurality content, sometimes we post quotes/comments from our system, sometimes we screenshot relatable posts from pro-endo blogs and repost them as we refuse to reblog from an endo safe space. sometimes we post about serious topics that are not system related. those posts will be tagged as #notasystemrelatedpost

we are studying to become a therapist (a decision that has been made and accepted by all in the system), if we do happen to get something wrong and you would like to correct us please leave a (respectful and polite) comment. we will try our best to be respectful and polite back to you ^^

we are an OSDD-b1 traumagenic system, VERY fictive heavy, polyfragmented, frequent fronters change often, we have severe ADHD and mild autism. please use tone tags when talking to us

we are NOT pro-endo/endo friendly. do not start shit, just block us.

DNI if you're homophobic, transphobic, or racist. also cringe culture is dead, let people enjoy things as long as they aren't consuming genuinely problematic content. be respectful in the comments, reblogs, and tags. do NOT harass anyone. do NOT go on witch hunts for anyone mentioned on this blog that you may not like. if you do find anyone problematic we have mentioned, block them and move on. an argument is never worth it. do NOT fake claim.

DID is caused by repeated childhood trauma during the ages of 1-12. some people may not remember their trauma. they are not entitled to tell you. i/we encourage any and all endos and pro-endos to do in depth research on DID/DID-type disorders as well as other potential disorders that may cause DID symptoms. some endo systems are traumagenic systems that do not remember their trauma. others may have a different disorder or mental illness that causes did symptoms.

trauma can be anything from emotional abuse, neglect, physical abuse, sexual abuse, financial abuse, mental abuse, gaslighting, manipulation, being a scapegoat, or any other negatively impactful event (ie; a house fire). these things tend to impact younger children a lot more than it impacts adults. i have not listen every single possible form of trauma, these are examples. again, you are never ever obligated to tell anyone your trauma. that is between you and a therapist, or you and someone you CHOOSE to trust.

please interact if you are a system (or a singlet!) who likes homestuck, fnaf, marble hornets, legend of zelda, hermitcraft, the lifesmp/trafficsmp, general rock music, sally face, the DCU, X-men

we are entirely open to making new friends, feel free to DM us anytime and just strike up friendly conversation. even if you just want to infodump to someone about your special intrest please by all means come talk to us! there is ALWAYS someone in front who is willing to talk and be social! /gen :D

this post was brought to you (and then later edited) by Toby Rogers

[comkin]

THIS IS A PRO/COMSHIP/KIN SAFE SPACE. DISCRETION IS ADVISED AT INTERACTION.

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT.

Everything is under the cut! (There's a lot to scroll past)

This is a source calling blog! It is directed for kins, fictives and IRLs alike who may have problematic memories or sources.

This blog provides:

Source calling ; Searching for source mates. - Template will be added at the end of this post. This MUST be followed.

Confessions ; Source/Memory confessions. - These can be used to just get something off your chest, however if you want to rant/vent put TWs/CWs and a vent warning.

Stimboards ; 3 by 3 GIF post based on one theme. - Please be specific! It can be character, source or ship based! Feel free to request something I haven't mentioned, it may be denied though.

RULES

#1 ;; Be nice! Don’t harass anyone for any reason. If you DO NOT LIKE THIS CONTENT BLOCK US. This blog is a safe space for those who identify with problematic sources and or views, antis or those who just do not agree have plenty of safe spaces and we request you DNI.

#2 ;; We accept any form of call even if it may be considered problematic. But please keep yourself safe, do not use this blog to put yourself in danger. Anonymous is RECOMMENDED but not necessary. - Not all requests on this blog have to be considered "problematic"

#3 ;; Source/fictional age gaps are A-Okay but IRL ones are NOT. Minors should only be interacting with minors and majors only with majors for safety. (Example; Body age: 19 Looking for: anyone over 18.) If ages are not in calls I will ask for resubmission or it will be deleted.

#4 ;; There is no limit on how many entries you send and you may send them one after the other (they just won't be posted at the same time). Even if you have multiple kins/etc from one source, only one will be tagged. (On the note of tagging, all problematic calls will be tagged as such so they will not meet a super wide audience - this is for the comfort of others and safety of you)

#5 ;; All questions may be asked in the ask box! Because other people may have similar questions. Source calls should be sent in DMs please! Confessions and Stimboard requests in asks.

Calls should be sent in DMs using the following template. This will be copy pasted and posted by a mod! This is just easier because we know we'll need to reach out to people about resubmissions and we can't do that with anon on all the time.

CALLS;;

Full name:

Source:

Age: (Required)

Who you're looking for:

DNI:

Extra info:

Your @ if you want it included (this may be your main or your alt!)

STIMBOARDS;;

Please include types of GIFs you do and don't want! Eg. Slime, calligraphy, or specific objects/animals etc.

Be as specific as you can! Such as what emotions you want to convey.

This blog is currently run by only one person, so I might take some time.

The stimboards are made with help from someone who does not moderate the blog! (Contributor 🌬️)

Current Mods:

Angel - 🍮

Banner ;; Avatar by me

Intro post written with help from 🌬️. :)

(Also feel free to DM about helping moderate! Especially if you don't mind us begging for you to do stimboard requests /hj)

[gh0stzblogs]

Welcome to my blog!!＼(≧▽≦)／

Hihi!! I’m Atlas (* ^ ω ^) i also go by Ash & Link and my prns are he/they/fae/xe/vamp/fang/moon/star/pup and some more ^_^

i’m polykin & fictionkin; idrc about the origins of my kin types but they’re mostly psychological, some spiritual, and some i just am; i’m a vampire, grey wolf, dog, black cat, space creature thing, possibly a fallen angel, and Link (BoTW) fictionkin! (´꒳`)♡

i’m also crow & cryptid hearted (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

i’m also aroace and genderqueer ∪･ω･∪

My Interests/Likes are Good Omens, Hannibal, Will Wood, Hozier, Queen, space, psychology, writing, drawing, alterhumanity/plurality, coding, nature (animals & plants specifically) and more <|:3

we’re also a system (p-DID) and fictive/nonhuman heavy ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

we’re anti endo, btw. CDDs can’t form without prolonged trauma before the age of 9 (^_^♪)

TAG SYSTEM

i tend to not tag reblogs but when i do tag things this is my tagging system ->

#⭐️.txt - general text posts from me ^_^

#atlas barks / atlas rambles :3 - more text posts, barks for canine kinshifts rambles for more general stuff

#atlas draws - my art!

#[name] [word for speaking / .txt] - other alters posts

this is still super unorganized (〃＞＿＜;〃) i promise i’ll organize it soon TwT

uh uh cringe culture is dead, i block people i don’t like. don’t like me? block me! it’s that simple ^_^

other blogs:

@gh0stz404 - my “normal”/fandom/reblog spam whatever dump. unorganized as fuck and i refuse to organize it atp

@same-pic-of-alpha-centuari - self explanatory, we rp as alpha centauri a & b, based off of crowley and aziraphale. (don’t know why i had to copy paste my username for it to finally show up but whatevs)

Blinkies Below (FLASH/EYESTRAIN WARNING)

(tumblr ruined the formatting, click for full blinkie if you can’t read it)

[fictionkinfessions]

Probably really should just stay out of this but like? We're somewhere in the middle of "therapy is traumatizing" and "therapy is too expensive" because our guardians like? Literally had to make a deal with a, frankly very shitty "behaviour clinic" to get us therapy and it's probably doing more harm than good because the therapists keep leaving and the last one looked at us dead in the face when we tried to tell her that Therese was forming and she looked up the source and just "you can't have a system mate with DID that's not how this works"

Like? They legit do NOT get the training needed to help even the healthiest of the neurodivergent out in some places (not doxxing ourselves entirely but the south SUCKS for mental health, and sometimes health in general with certain factors). They get taught statistics and the cases that got believed enough to be studied. That does NOT actually help the vast majority because literally EVERYONE experiences things differently! Which is not to make this the trauma Olympics! (Stg anyone who comes on here with that shit *I* will block myself do not even try me) I'm just so fucking TIRED of this kind of bullshit happening, and the mods here have to put up with people starting fights in what should be a safe space.

I know it probably sounds hypocritical coming from a Jeanette Voerman fictive but god I'm just so tired of half our notifications from this blog this week being this garbage (not mad at the mods here y'all are awesome and I'm really grateful you keep this place going for all of us) but just. God. Stop acting like your experience is the only possible one because it's not. It's really not. Everyone is unique and we should be helping each other not testing each other down. So maybe let's go back to that, yeah? That's nicer. We need more nicer in the world with all the shit that's happening offline lately.

Charlie of the Blood Moon Coterie (PS MPC or whoever thank you again for this blog, we really do appreciate it and I'm sorry for talking so damn much)

x

[the-orange-solace]

◈ System Name ⇝ The Orange Solace ◈ Collective Pronouns ⇝ They/Them ◈ Bodily Age ⇝ Adult ◈ System Information ⇝ We are a Fictive-Heavy Polyfragmented System and have many duplicates, so names may overlap! Using their chosen emoji's and/or secondary names to distinguish them are recommended! ◈ Additional Information ⇝ We're Queer and Neurodivergent with Tourettes!

◈ Please use Tone Tags! ◈ Ask to DM! ◈ Free to @! ◈ Asks/Submissions are open! ◈ Each individual has differing opinions on Source! Check below the cut and/or ask before engaging if possible! ◈ This is a safe space for all Plurals, but mainly ourselves! If we don't like what you are doing in anyway we will freely block or simply not interact with you and/or you&!

◈ Ask posts will be tagged with #Asks ◈ Names given will be tagged for each Ask (ex. An Anonymous Ask will be tagged as #Anon) ◈ We may not keep up with specific tags, this is going to be normal, deal with it ◈ We will not use censorship words (ex. unalive or oofed instead of dead or 🍆 instead of saying any term for genitalia) ◈ We enjoy siting terms and information, expect a lot of links and references ◈ We try to be as accessible as possible, but we may fuck up, just help us out when this happens ◈ This section will be updated as needed

◈ Headmates each have an emoji/phrase they use for the posts they reblog and/or make ◈ Not all Sys Tags will be named in this post ◈ It's mostly for our own knowledge, state who is speaking, and to find certain posts of/for a member quicker

Send in Asks to inform us of any triggers or topics you/you& may need for posts we make or reblog! This can be for any reason, as long as we're able to tag it in some form or be able to distinguish what it is to properly find and tag it! ◈ The following have been tagged: ⇝ ...

◈ Systems Exclusionists/Sysmeds (Anti-endo, Anti-tulpa, etc.) ◈ Incest Shippers (Tcest, etc.) ◈ Pedophiles ◈ Rapists ◈ Racists ◈ Ableists ◈ Sexists ◈ Misogynists ◈ Misandrists (Believe men cannot also be victims) ◈ Xenophobes ◈ Islamophobic ◈ Antisemitic ◈ Fatphobes ◈ Queerphobes/Queer Exclusionists ◈ Against Neopronouns and/or Xenogenders ◈ Against Lovelessness ◈ Trans-Exclusionary Radical Feminist (TERFs) ◈ Transmedicalists (Transmeds) ◈ Radical Feminists (Radfems) ◈ Against Recovery (Anti-recovery) ◈ Those who demonize Disorders such as... ⇝ Cluster Disorders ⇝ Psychotic Disorders ⇝ Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID) ◈ Those who Romanticize... ⇝ Mental Illness ⇝ Self Harm ⇝ Abuse ⇝ Rape ⇝ Pedophilia

Atreus (Fox) | 🪶 ◈ He/They | Avian ◈ Front Anchor | Warden | Main ◈ Main Blog: @fluidfox123

Darkstar (Starscream) | ⚜️ ◈ He/Him | Cybertronian ◈ Fictive | Nonhuman ◈ Okay To Ask/Talk About Source? ⇝ Yes, with proper exceptions.

Starburst (Starscream) | 🍭 ◈ He/Any Pro. | Cybertronian ◈ Fictive | Nonhuman ◈ Okay To Ask/Talk About Source? ⇝ Yes!!! ◈ About me!! I'm from before the War on Cybertron!!!! I was a scientist!! If I had a specific source I'd so link it!!! :(((

Starscream | ⚡ ◈ He/Him | Cybertronian Outlier ◈ Fictive | Nonhuman ◈ Okay To Ask/Talk About Source? ⇝ Yes, it's fine.

Nines (RK900) | 🔪 ◈ He/Him | Android Model RK900 #313 248 317 - 87 ◈ Fictive | Nonhuman | Shield | Intimidator ◈ Okay To Ask/Talk About Source? ⇝ ✔

Sunny | 🌻 ◈ He/They | Human ◈ Ameliorator | Caregater | Entomate ◈ I have no source, but I am free for all you kiddos to speak to <3

Leonardo | 💙 ◈ He/She | Mutant ◈ Fictive | Internal Protector ◈ Main Blog: @champ-blue-fool ◈ Okay To Ask/Talk About Source? ⇝ Yes! Pllleeeeease!! I interact with my sources ALL the time! Just got over some stuff so don't go too haywire, ya know? Also since I DO have a source (haha, suck it Starburst) you can check it out heeeere and heeeere~!! (Use adblockers for the last one, baby!)

[daisybellejpeg]

hey question, regarding the bright situation i have a question

Are people still allowed to use the bright character in their artworks, cosplays and drawings, because alot of my friends see dr bright as a character as their comfort and have fictives of dr bright and i didn`t want to see thrm hurt

Ok holy shit let me put this to bed, tuck it in, give it a glass of warm milk, maybe even read it a bedtime story.

I’m so sorry if I’m hella defensive, as mentioned in the doc may and June are my mourning period. The 24th marked the 4th anniversary of my dad’s passing so I’m kind of checked out and am just frustrated at how long this silly, messy “drama” revolving me has been dragging out. At first it was confusing, then funny as fuck due to piss poor execution, now I’m just tired.

It’s a free internet, I can’t stop people from posting shit with bright in it. I will say 2 things tho:

1. Don’t expect me to be your friend or want to be near you, same with the other victims in the fandom. Seriously, I’ve been blocking people who’ve made fanart of bright post the release of my doc. The information is right there, by beating the dead horse that is this pedophile’s possession fetish character you’re kind of saying you don’t care about our hurt, you don’t care that this man used this creation to brand me. Sorry not sorry. My thoughts on bright hyperfixators from earlier today because I’m lazy and trying to get my skincare done while I write this:

2. By not letting bright die you’re doing exactly what Peters wants you to do. To the letter. Do with this info what you will. You’re respecting the wishes of a creep by letting their legacy live on.

AS FOR ALTERS, y’all are a special case, you cannot voluntarily get rid of your alter. I get that and I don’t hold it against y’all at all. I never have. If anything I’m reeeeeally worried about you guys given the whole possession fetish aspect of this situation as I’ve said in a previous ask. Be careful out there. Iunno if Mitch will ever try to weasel their way back into scp spaces but keep an eye out. Also, if you’re in the Michigan area and partake in cons and faires be even more vigilant. Y’all know what this fucker looks like. I know someone who got into a grooming situation with them upon meeting them at one of these events. So far I’ve been able to get them banned from two things but I still have a list of orgs and cons and faires to contact with the evidence to make sure this bastard isn’t able to take advantage of the ignorance of people like my friend.

Hope this helps.

[hazyaltcare]

Could you do a moodboard for the ship Isaac Clarke x John Carver from Dead Space? I'd like themes of disconnection from reality and self. Colors mostly blue and red. Tag as both fictionkin and fictive if possible.

Yeah itll be in the queue, enjoy!

Mod Haze

[shinelikethunder]

Regarding your tags about Good Omens not making your brain go brrrr - it's really interesting because early on while I was watching the new season, I found myself asking, like, "Is this actually good or do I just enjoy it?" And very quickly I decided the answer was "Well, you see, I enjoy it so much."

But as a result I've been thinking a lot about how I define whether or not a story is "good" because surely that indefinable quality of Makes Brain Go Brrrrrr should figure into it somewhere. And there's the inverse phenomenon to account for, of things that are like a dead fish to the fictive libido. I think that might be even more subjective, though.

It's not that I think quality is a totally meaningless concept when assessing art, I've just been thinking I might need to make more space within my metric for things like "joy" and "energy" and "vibrates my brain like a tumble dryer". As opposed to seeing those things as incidental and trying to take my own emotional response out of the equation.

it's a factor for sure, but if SPN proves anything, it's that "vibrates my brain like a tumble dryer" can be completely orthogonal to quality and enjoyment... sometimes the vibration is from canon having a two-for-one flash sale on hate crimes and writing crimes, y'know? sometimes episodes i find genuinely excruciating make me want to dissect them like bugs. (and on the flip side, there are plenty of works i do very much love on their artistic merits and enjoy, but not in the specific way that makes me want to scream in the tags of a tumblr gifset.)

like, yeah, variants of that Roger Ebert Reviews The Mummy (1999) reaction of "i can't even say what this has to recommend it except that i enjoyed the shit out of every minute of it" do deserve space as merits in their own right, but also, for me personally at least, that Brain Go Brr quality of... investment? engagement? obsessive need to poke at it and roll around in it and rotate it on the blorbo rotisserie?... doesn't necessarily have a straightforward relationship with quality or enjoyment. see previous reblog tags re: liking nbc hannibal perfectly well the first time around, but only losing my absolute shit over it when approaching via some borderline-unreadable thomas harris nonsense that managed to sink the first hooks in. and also many previous rants about the brain-go-brr-ness of rtd's doctor who being at its height when the show was most direly in need of fixing.

all of which is kind of a digression from good omens 2, which provoked neither fandom brainrot nor any particularly strong other type of enjoyment - i was sitting there going "this is... nice i guess?" amidst an increasingly acute realization that whatever quality of the book it was that originally hooked me in, pratchett's barbed sense of humor was absolutely vital for making the silliness land for me. i wish everyone who can get in their OTP Feelings about GO2 the joy of it, and will mostly be saluting from a distance as i scroll past on the dash. it seems to have succeeded reasonably well at the things it set out to do--and it turns out those things didn't do it for me, on any of the levels i might've wanted them to. the strange nature of it all is, i'd probably have much more specific criticisms if it had grabbed me.

[command-box-alters]

Hiii!!! Hello!!! Jumping around!!! Can I get a yogscast Lewis alter pack!!!!!

-⚰️

Generating terrain. . .

Terrain generated!

/give @coffin-anon knowledge_book{Recipes:[alter_fictive]} 1

LEWIS'S COMMUNICATOR

User tag ▪︎ Lewis, Lew, Lewlew, Xephos, Xeph

Account Age ▪︎ 23 - 47

Refer to Player As ▪︎ he/it/space/stars/aliens/sciences/testtubeself/torchself/shipself

PlayerIDs ▪︎ cis alien, cis spaceman, cis scientist, cis major depression, cis generalized anxiety disorder, cis autistic, cis ocd

Add-on PlayerIDs Info ▪︎ trans human, trans age (yto), trans startrek red shirt, trans beard/goatee, null adhd, trans british, trans disabled, trans heterocromia, trans autigender, nonanimi, isointersex, perma stressed, perma cloned, perma tail, perma tired, perma traumatized, perma depressed, perma low empathy

Roles ▪︎ fictive, trauma holder, emotional regulator, accuser, protector, cassmate, apathy holder, translator, scientist

Restrictions ▪︎ Nyctophilia, Aviatophilia, Piquerism, Astrophilia, Auroraphilia, Autogratiophilia, Exophilia

Server Affiliations ▪︎ YogLabs, Shadow of Israphel

Hello ⚰️! You hit my autism dead on. This is our first officially crafted alter for this blog! Congratulations! I hope this pack is helpful <3

[fictive-culture]

Fictive culture is longing for your sparkmate everyday. Fandom and some doubles of ours may believe me insane for loving him, but I did not bare three of his children for nothing. I miss his sparkbeat in the dead of space, the war stories he'd tell the children. I re-read our source, longing for these memories and dread the ones of my own that tell me he is dead. Where is he. When will I feel his monstrous love again? - ⚜️🕯️

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