#its the little things that help on a day when you feel unable to function

[inquisitorius-sin-bin]

.

[n0n-sen-se]

💌 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐊𝐍𝐘 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐀𝐝𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐫. . .

includes ;; genya, muichiro content ;; pure fluff. a/n ;; stresstember eh? the perfect time to indulge in some adorable escapism! (´｡• ◡ •｡`) ♡

☆☆☆ # genya shinazugawa !

genya regularly receives check-ups at the Butterfly Mansion, thus you tend to bump into him a ton!

this is where things start to take a turn. . . he stops getting so angry and quick to shut you down. . . and instead, he starts watching you train a little more, keeping idle tabs on your schedule, daydreaming of you when he should be focusing on training. . .

then it hits him:

he's got a crush ?!

to this boy love literally feels lethal.

he can't function. at all. he's unable to stand or talk to you for more than a few seconds without becoming flustered and wracked with nerves.

so loving you from afar is the simplest-easiest option.

he stares a ton, and tries hard not to get caught.

daydreams when he shouldn't- and at the worst times- you can only get punched in the face while training so many times before you start to wonder if having a crush is really worth it.

i'm pretty sure anyone could see the reason this quick-tempered boy suddenly turns shy when he's around you.

and he hates admitting it. (what is he supposed to do? he's never been in love before?)

there are times when he's 100% undoubtably sure that you're busy- or far, far away from the scene of the crime. . . he'll sneak into your room (after double checking that the coast is clear, again) he'll leave a few wildflowers next to your nightstand.

just the thought that he's showing romantic affection towards you has his heart palpitating. . . even if it is, technically indirect.

has him paranoid as hell, like somehow even after all his precautions, you'll just know it was him. if you suspect him, or bring it up, he'll vehemently deny everything.

(whenever he leaves flower btw, it'll be up to a week before he works up the courage to bring another bunch, and in between he tries to garner the courage to talk to you. . . without success)

he'd actually get pretty comfortable with this scenario, and eventually saves up enough to produce a small vase to hold all the flowers.

and it feels like the biggest step yet!

its a painfully simple pot, and he feels he could do better, but he's tied a woven red string around the neck to help. . . at least a little.

you know. . . in the future he could tie notes to it. the thought has his ears burning red hot, and he flees the scene just as quickly.

☆☆☆ # muichiro tokito !

honestly, it doesn't fully occur to him that he is a secret admirer at first.

he just one day happens to notice you because you caught his eye. nothing in particular, there was just something. . . bright about your presence.

your eyes? your smile? who could really say. all he knows is that your very interesting to look at when you're around.

even your voice catches his attention, like the sound of bells to his ears. its calming and also so alluring? how are you able to charm him like this?

the couple times you caught him staring he looked away quickly, then he starts wondering why he's afraid of being caught?

that's when the idea of an idea starts to form in his head.

a crush!

honestly, i think he'd smile to himself at the thought. its all very confusing and all very new and exciting!

he'd stare a ton and try to be subtle. . . but then fail at that too. (at this point he's just standing beside a tree rather than behind it?)

muichiro gifts you things that remind him of you: things that are eye-catching and interesting to him.

. . . something that holds his attention as much as you do. . .

mostly things he's found, like the shiniest shells or rocks, broken ornaments or porcelain he's found. the best would probably be a tiny pearl he. . . acquired.

instructs his crow to deliver them to you, which in turn means you get hit in the head with said object- you don't need a more obvious clue to know that his crow hates. your. guts. (don't worry she's just a little jealous)

at first, he completely forgets that he's sent anything to you at all.

until he see's you holding them and it all connects.

silently hopes you to make the connection too. and i don't think he'd mind being caught at all. (its kind of like a fun game he's playing, that subsequently causes the faintest blush to appear across the bridge of his nose)

thinks about you maybe a bit too much, and starts to get excited at the prospect of being in love or a relationship! what would it be like to hold your hand, or even have all of your attention for once? (now he's just smiling up at the clouds like an adorable idiot)

if he writes anything (a note?) its just doodles and drawings he's done that he then hands over to his crow to deliver.

actually very fond of leaving you snacks too. . . or straight up offering to share while (innocently) asking you what ❛all those things in your hands❜ are.

[etheries1015]

Hi Entheries!

Been following your TWST works for a litttle bit, which are so much fun, especially the MC kicking ass one, and can't wait to see what else you come up with 💜

Wanted to let you play with an idea that's been tumbling around in my head for a bit, thought you might do a better job of exploring/making it into a blurb or headcanon.

It would be a Malleus x GN or Fem Reader who would be Yuu/MC (whichever makes you happy)

Reader loves working with pottery/ceramics mostly making teapots and mugs that are themed around the person they are making them for. Maybe making a surprise mug with a dragon or gargoyle inside for Malleus or a teapot that looks/functions like a gargoyle. How would he react/what would his thoughts be?

Hope you have fun with this!

-💜

I absolutely love this idea!!! Its so cute. Thank you for submitting it!

Malleus X reader - An apology mug!

Notes: Gender neutral reader

General warnings: None!

Tw: None!

When you had joined the gargoyle studies club and began using your talent of pottery and craftsmanship, it came rather natural to you when he had taught you to create your own. Most of them would be bigger and more akin to a regular sized gargoyles you see on buildings in order to present them more accurately for the club, but this had given you a grand idea. Making a tiny gargoyle, and merging it into designing a mug (your specialty) for malleus after a little.. "Misunderstanding" for lack thereof better words.

Malleus was only acutely aware of your endeavors and affections for pottery and creating little mugs and teapots, you had briefly showed him a few of your works when you had made an entire set for the heartslabyul dorm. You gifted Trey, Riddle, Cater, Ace, and deuce personalized teapot set that you had spent your free time between classes creating. Malleus noticed as of late you had been commissioned by Azul to produce a decent amount of these little tea sets in order to help boost business in the Monstro lounge.

"You have been working very hard lately, Child of man," Malleus pointed out during a session of creating gargoyles, "Are you sure you are alright? You haven't been overworking yourself? Ashengretto has a tendency to-"

"Malleus," You cut him off, "I am okay! I love my art, I enjoy that people like my teacups, and I'm grateful for the opportunity from Azul. He even paid me rather generously," You pointed out, working your hands on the statue you were occupied with. The tall green eyed fae pouted ever so slightly, unable to share the real reason was in fact the lack thereof time and attention you have been giving him while you were busy making these tea sets for Azul. He would attempt to study with you after classes, yet you have given the excuse that the deadline was coming up shortly. It had gotten to the point in which you were soon canceling days in which you would show up to the club. He was feeling...alone.

Because of this, you noticed the influx of items he would leave on the doorsteps of ramshackle. He enjoyed collecting little rocks and stones and knickknacks he found fascinating to give to you, gifting you necklaces, rings, earrings, bracelets...things that you may not normally put on yourself, yet shiny things that seemed rather expensive made its way to you more often now that you were no longer spending time with him. You were aware that Its his biggest love language, yet the extremes he had been going through to try and get your attention has gone rather far.

One particular day whilst you were in the middle of finishing up the task given to you by Azul, a knock upon ramshackles dorm interupted your intent focus. Opening the door, you were greeted by a man hanging upside down and a sly smile upon his features.

"Lilia!" You gasped excitedly, "good! I'm glad you're here!" You quickly invited him in before exiting into a different room, returning with a handful of treasures that Malleus had given you. "Please," You begged, "I can't keep taking all of these things! I understand it's his love language but-" Lilia interrupted your sentence with a hearty laugh, before sitting on the couch and leaning forward, the amusement glinting in his eyes telling you he had something to say.

"Well, I suppose that explains some of his current behavior back at the dorms," Lilia pointed out, "It seems that our prince has been sulking as of late. When I try to probe him, he simply gives me the cold shoulder. My assumption is he misses a certain human," He teased. You furrowed your eyebrows and slumped your shoulders, setting down the items you had carried in gently on the table in the room. You sat next to Lilia and turned to face him with worry in your eyes. He began to explain to you of Malleus' off behavior, how he would become easily irritated when the topic of your duty to Azul came up, or how your absence would be promptly noticed by others who had gotten used to you being by his side. Guilt began to creep up onto you, your heart aching imagining how it must have seem you had brushed Malleus off, and how lonely he must have felt when you had skipped out on activities with him, and how you simply ignoring the amount of items he had piled up for you had probably been seen as another blow to his pride.

"Thank you for telling me, Lilia...I think I have an idea of how I can make it up to him," You chuckled softly, waving the fae goodbye parting ways and returning to your station. You sat down and interlocked your fingers, stretching your back and returning to your work.

A day had passed and neither you nor Grim had shown up to classes. Texts messages sent to you by classmates were left unread, and worry began to fester upon your peers. Ace and Deuce were the most worried, and decided to be brave and ask the one person you were consistently with..... Malleus.

"What do you mean (y/n) did not come to classes?" He had asked with his green eyes wide in shock, "Are they not feeling well?"

"I thought you would know, Malleus," Ace shrugged, "You're always with them. But...maybe we should visit ramshackle ourselves-" Before he could finish making a plan, Malleus had already disappeared in a cloud of green.

He hadn't bothered to knock on the door, instead immediately popping up in the lounge of Ramshackle. He called out your name and walked around a few rooms, until he stumbled upon you sitting in front of your pottery/ceramic station with the door wide open. You were hunched over, your head laying in your arms with your hands littered with clay and paint. Seeing as your back was raising up and down indicating you were breathing and simply sleeping had allowed Malleus to breath out a sigh of relief, a kind smile upon his lips as he gazed upon your sleeping body. He walked towards you slowly, using a hand to gently pat your back in an attempt to gently wake you, when something in particular had caught his attention.

Next to you was a rather large mug, it was a deep forest green and well decorated in contrast with what looked like a black dragon tail that shaped into the handle spiriling around the outside of it (almost as if it was holding onto the mug). He picked it up and began to examine it further, noticing on the inside was a miniature gargoyle standing atop of a small Cornice. The gargoyle was very well detailed despite being so small, it was in the middle of the inside leaving a trench around it for the liquid to still enter the cup and be used as a regular mug. He was enamored with it, his eyes lit up with pure admiration and affection. the paint was sparkling in the reflection of the light, the tail that decorated it looked eerily similar to his own...however he didn't put much thought into it until he looked underneath the mug where he saw a few words.

"To my beloved Fae, Malleus Draconia" The words were small and fit just well enough for the width of the mug, it was obvious it was written by hand using what he could tell was a thin permanent marker. He couldn't stop staring at it. He read those words over and over again with wide eyes that sparkled with joy, finding that he couldn't control the wide grin that followed ear to ear. He read it about 20 times before he heard you begin to rustle around, before you groaned out of your sleepy state. Your eyes began to open slowly before gasping in shock seeing Malleus there, your eyes wandering to the mug he was now holding in his hand.

"No!" You gasped, "Nooo, Malleus! That was supposed to be a surprise for you-" He ignored your exasperated comments and engulfed you in a hug. He sat the mug down on the table and lifted you up with ease, nuzzling his head into the crook of your shoulder with his grip around your body so tight it felt as if he was afraid of you escaping. You let out a little "Augh!" Before slapping gently on his back, "M-malleus- can't- breath-" You choked out. Hearing your plea he loosened his grip however still did not let you go. 'Well', you thought, 'he already saw it, so... ' You gently hugged him back, holding that pose for what seemed almost like an eternity.

"Thank you, (Y/N)," He finally broke the silence, "I shall treasure it forever, trust me when I say no harm shall ever come its way," Malleus smiled down at you. Those were the words he had said, however his mind was running wild. He had always been the one to give and give, yet he never thought anyone would gift him the same. Words of affection bursted in his mind, baffled by this humans kindness. You. You gave him this kindness, and he couldn't be any happier than this moment. He felt so alone for so long, however you had opened doors to him that nobody else gave him the chance to walk through. You invited him to things, you treated him as a normal student, you had been there for him in ways he never thought he would have the pleasure of experiencing. And now, his precious favorite human had given him a treasure. A normal mug to you and others, perhaps, but a treasure you had made by your own hands with Malleus in mind. His heart was warmer than it had ever been before, no amount of words could he express the gratitude he had for this moment. Suddenly he forgot his woes, and all he could see in his line of sight was you, no longer the feeling of jealousy and sadness he felt the past week you were occupied. You gave a little giggle back and replied,

"Even if it breaks, I will re-make it for you in a heartbeat. I'm sorry I haven't been around lately, this I guess is my apology...I'm done with Azuls set, so now I have plenty of free time to commit to gargoyle studies club-" Malleus started with surprise in his voice.

"Did you think I was upset you were not attending club sessions? Silly human, simply being by your side is enough for me." Your cheeks lit up a light shade of pink, turning your gaze back to the mug trying to change the subject out of embarrassment.

"A-anyway..." You walked over to the table gesturing towards the mug, "I had some left over of this magic paint that Azul gave to me," You said, "The gargoyle seems black, but if you fill it with liquid it glows a bright green," You smiled, "Want to test it out?" Malleus could not hold back his excitement, you chuckled at the thought that you could practically see his tail wagging behind him as the tall Fae replied with graceful enthusiasm and a hand tenderly holding onto his newfound treasure,

"I would love to."

----

I hope that was satisfactory! It wasn't the most put together plot in my opinion, so if you have any other suggestions and ideas about editing it and making it better, please don't be afraid to let me know!

And check out my masterlist for more works like this!

as for Grim in this situation...he took you not going to school as an excuse to also not go to school, and slept in all day.

[pixelyssa]

The love of my life has been ignoring/stone walling me, and today it led to a HORRIBLE binge. I couldn’t stop, I was sobbing. I feel disgusting

I guess I’m wondering.. what advice do you have for preventing large binges like that?

hi lovey

first, im sorry about that.. i hope their gears start working properly and they talk to you soon 🩷

i don’t struggling with b1nging personally, and it’s not a flex, its just b1nging is a term i’ve been told not to use here. because for me, its still less than a “normal 1ntake” when i “overe@t” but i def know the disgusting feeling afterwards and the guilt/regret.

(i have to clarify that or i get threats)

anyways!! seems to me like it was obv triggered by ur problem w whoever this person is… like the b1nge was your coping skill.

so to answer ur question on preventing it, make a list of other coping skills you know work.

-distraction coping skills (to name a few: shows, documentaries, youtube, music, games, call/text a friend, read, coloring/drawing, writing, cleaning, showering, exercise, nap) these don’t fix ur problem ofc but itll distract u from the big feelings and unhealthy coping skills, and eventually (hopefully) you will regulate & be safe! a lot of people on this side of tumblr dont realize the distractions we use to avoid e@ting are usually good for us. deciding to go on a walk or take a shower instead of r3lapse in soemthing?? hell ya

-problem focused coping skills! (ex: asking for help, text/call a hotline, deep breathing, establishing boundaries outloud “i will not ___” or “i am not ____” etc) these are harder to do when ur having big emotions because your brain doesnt think “yes lets do some hard self refelction!!

but i wanted to give some examples so you have some incase you can’t think of any rn.

like i said, write it down. that way when this happens, or even other negative things, you have all ur tools in one spot. notes app, a journal, whereva 🩷

besides that, sometimes its alr too late to choose another coping skill. i can only recommend if you give in and you know youre gonna, to try these things

-put the f00d on a plate (small ones r best for me in this situation) that way im not having a whole bag of cookies/chips its just a couple on a plate

-i also get rid of any f00ds that would be dangerous during a b1nge for me lol. ik some people live with others and they can’t do this, but when im rlly hungri my only options these days are strawberries or carrots with hot sauce 😭 so maybe thatll help? if theres no f00d, theres no b1nge?

-watching true crime or g0re helps me bc it makes me unable to e@t the f00d in front of me 😭 sorry if this is crazy but… like maybe when ur upset like that and you have tried to do the healthy coping skills and just still wanna b1nge… you could just watch some true crime? 😭😭

-managing ur daily 1ntake could also help. ik sometimes even if ur full you can get the b1nge urges, but yk it genuinely could be that ur not having enough per day to function and ur stomach is sending those urges to ur brain.

kinda all over the place ik. i havent been active for a bit im going through it 🤭 anyways i feel so bad for u why tf is ur person ignoring u 😭 idk what i would do 💔 i hope this was a little helpful atleast’

ily stay safe xoxo🩷

[beesmygod]

old hunters DLC also highlights some themes of colonial violence and exploitation too, imo. what’s been done to the fishing village and kos ties the beast thing up with this idea that like, the impulse to Conquer and Dominate another leads directly to the Curse. It’s not enough to understand the old ones and the blood and all that, they needed to control it, to take it for themselves, and exploit it however they can. And now there’s wolfmans everywhere.

And this is in the core gameplay loop itself, we extract all the vials and blood echos and blood gems that we can in order to become strong enough to conquer more and more powerful prey. When we’re hit, we hit back harder and take back the life that was taken for us. Sure it’s ostensibly to Break the Curse and seek Paleblood and all that, but we know why we’re really doing it. Because it’s sick as hell, and feels awesome to best these monsters. The old hunters knew that too, and it turns them into giant horse creatures unable to do anything besides violence. That thirst for violence and power makes hunters turn into beasts, now only functioning as a cog in a perpetual violence machine. They lose their humanity not through repeated death like in Dark Souls, but through taking life. It turns the characters into monsters, and the players into wiki editors and lore theorists (aka monsters) bc we also can’t let go of the feeling Bloodborne gives us.

Tl;dr: Bloodborne is like if Spec Ops had any subtlety or desire to leave itself up to interpretation (probably helped by the fact that very little of what I’m talking about is likely intentional and I’m just insane)

OKAY im back from my appointment and finished my little treat. anon ("anon" @chicknparm who should get credit for these good thoughts) i could not agree more. i mentioned this in a previous post but finding a strand of commentary about the evils of colonialism made me worried i was becoming dangerously online, but it's a relief to see someone else mention this idea. i think you are absolutely right that one of the overt messages in bloodborne is that spilling blood for your own benefit leads to ruin. its actually kind of shocking how, in spite of the combat being the draw to these games, the message of most fromsoft games is a message of anti-violence. like, how many times do we end up fighting something that, in hindsight, needed to be put out of its misery. oh. shit. thinking about it, our player character is explicitly an outsider. the role of hunter of hunter is filled by outsiders...

also lol you are so right about the wiki based insanity but i think that's the consequences of insight poisoning. literally every once in a while while trying to edit this stupid bloodborne doc i think to myself "oooeergg too many eyes" and take a break for a few days

anyway, turning this back around to the colonialism theme, hear us out ok: watching/reading the sekiro lore videos/posts by shetani of shetani's lair helped introduce a lot of esoteric buddhist and shinto concepts that were totally novel and unknown to be as a baka gaijin. now these ideas are impossible not to see in all of from's other works.

i did a few days of research on "shinshi" (mostly a lot of stuff that turned out to not be relevant, but interesting) after becoming aware of them and found they shared a lot of qualities with the augurs (or "phantasms", invertebrates that act as intermediaries to the great ones) of bloodborne. realizing this, i thought about the great ones not in the context of a christian god, as the MODERN yharnam does, but as kami. kami are numerous, everywhere, hidden, and are thought of as actively controlling or influencing the terrestrial world. the re-translation reveals that the "great pthumeru chalice" had some nuance lost in translation: "祀る - Means to enshrine or worship, but has connotations of doing it to appease spirits so they may reach nirvana or Buddhahood and avoid becoming evil"; this is simply translated to "deify" which is technically correct but the original feels like it's much more pointed about finally revealing to the player that the "gods" as we've been lead to believe them to be are not what they seem.

the healing church, a product of georgian to victorian era western beliefs, razed pthumeru, loran, isz, and the fishing village (and probably yahar'gul too) in the quest to become like their newly discovered gods. the framework by which they related to pthumerian culture was completely wrong and misunderstood the nature of "gods" as all knowing or all powerful and, thus, something aspirational. the reality was more that they are just another type of creature in the world with different limitations than a human. and they're still mortal.

[dirtytransmasc]

i’ve been wondering how quaritch the sullys or norm & the others scientists would react if spider actually got brain damage from the machine, like a speech problem or chronic illness and he becomes shaky, also how would spider himself deal with not being able to swing through trees safely anymore?

I've played with a disabled spider before, though I never posted it, so here's my idea of a potential symptom list; tremors/numbness in his hands, auditory processing issues, sensitivity to light and movement, focal seizures, a mild stutter, and fibromyalgia (cause we have to project a little). another thing is, he just drops sometimes, his legs give out from beneath him and he ends up in a pile on the floor, otherwise completely fine. he also gets phantom pains of the connection from the machine (from what I understand, that machine would feel like pulling your spinal cord out the base of your neck and plugging it into a car battery). Add that to his PTSD from the event, and you get one fucked up kid.

now we just apply this to his family.

for neytiri it's one hell of a wake up call; her neglect for the child allowed him to be kidnapped and he is no physically affected, seemingly for the rest of his life. spider was always weary of asking for help, but now that poses a massive threat to his wellbeing, and the mother in her aches at the realization that she did that to him, she made him feel unable to ask for help. its also really difficult to watch him go through his focal seizures after what had happened to kiri. she know's its wrong of her to want to care for him now after years of neglect, but she wants to right the wrongs. the only problem is, is the boy is terrified of her.

jake is forced to realize how spider is a lot like him, and then looking back and realizing he was always like him, he was just too blind and dumb see it the whole time. now his kid, if he even has the right to call him that (he doesn't), is struggling just to function, and he'd been the one to say 'he's a tough kid' and move on. he feels sick every time he looks at the boy, and he ends up avoiding him just like the rest of his problems.

kiri would be furious with her family for leaving spider behind when she had begged to look for him, and now because they left him with those people, he's in constant pain and fear, frustrated because he lacks control over so much of his body. she would be one of his biggest caretakers, as she knows how to go about it without being patronizing, though even then, her constant help makes him antsy.

lo'ak would feel... upset, angry, sad, frustrated. he doesn't have one word to describe it. I've talked about this with a few friends, but lo'ak, while he may not actually have these disabilities, feels very adhd and dyslexic coded in the way that his trauma and neglect/abuse present themselves within the narrative. especially in the sense that he was never accommodated for his own "shortcomings" and now he has a disabled brother and he's torn between his internalized "ableism" (loosely using that word to run with the example) that stems from pushing his needs below the surface and therefore expecting other's to do the same, and his want to take care of his best friend and brother. it's not that he wants spider to hurt himself by not hiding his disability, its just that he doesn't know what else he can do, because for so long he's tried to do exactly that with no help. it also really hurts watching spider go through his day to day life like that, especially in the early days when he and the people around him didn't fully understand what was wrong so he sorta had to suffer through trial and error.

tuk is a good kid, she probably accommodates spider best because things don't change unless they have to. she still plays with him, nags him, spends time with him all the same. she just adapts to his way of life. she doesn't treat him like he's fragile or in need of pity, and I could see her inadvertently putting him through some sense of physical therapy as she gets him up and about, using his hands, and such. she makes him smile even when he feels hopeless she's the best little sister he could ask for.

norm and max feel helpless, every time the offer to help him he shoves them off (cause they treat him like he's 5 years old and made of glass). they see him fading away, looking more and more dull by the day, they know he needs help or the injury won't heal and it will only get worse, they know they should have done more when spider went missing, but they can't do anything now and spider hates them (he doesn't he just doesn't like his brian being rummaged around in anymore then it has, he doesn't want to be fixed, he just wants to be. he's tired of everyone pitying themselves for not looking for him, tired of everyone worrying, he just wants things to be normal again.)

quaritch would hate himself, he had brought spider to ardmore, even if he hadn't known what the machine would do to him, he allowed it to happen, he let spider to get hurt, and now he tries to do everything he can to make it up to him. he took care of him in the field, pulled strings to get him under the table medical care back on base, was even willing to give him up to the sully's when it started getting really bad, cause even if they were and parents, spider would have a stable life with medical attention. he doesn't have any ill feelings towards his son or his disabilities as many would assume he would; he just wants his boy to feel ok, no matter what that means ability-wise. he's also one of the few people spider lets faun after him because he knows it's not out of guilt for abusing and neglecting him for years but for making a mistake that spider can't find within himself to blame him for.

(including the tonowari family, because I can, I love them too much to exclude them)

tonowari and ronal would throw a fit when they found out spider had been knowingly left behind with the RDA, especially because he knew what they were capable of doing firsthand, but also because he was clearly a worse father than the man he claimed to be running from (quaritch getting a redemption arc and being 'adopted' by ronal and tonowari is my favorite thing, sorry, I just can't leave it out). spider accepts treatment from her because its na'vi medicine, it feels right to seek the Great Mother's help in fixing what the Demons did to him. this quickly turns into him getting adopted, cause ronal has taken to this small human child, and tonowari just wants to see this boy happy.

ao'nung tries to throw hands with jake. that it, he treats spider like he would any other kid, any other brother, he just tries to kill jake for letting that happen to him.

tsireya is just a gentle soul to keep him company. she is a rock in the storm, always calm and caring, always asking permission to care for him, never assuming he wants her help. she holds him steady when the world around him is chaos.

now for spider himself? he feels even more useless and like a freak then before. he feels weak for being so screwed up by what he only lets himself think of as 'a flashy spinning machine' as if it wasn't created to break him. he would hate having attention on him because why should it have taken being tortured to receive this sort of attention? was being a kid not enough, he just has to suffer first? pair that with the fact that he is so self sacrificial and quick to defend the sully's he's shameful of his own anger. he's an emotional disaster, so many different though processes mixing and fighting with each other. but most of all he's frustrated, so frustrated, in the span of a few hours he lost the one thing he had, which was trust in his body, his physical capabilities that allowed him to survive on pandora and be a 'tough' kid that burdened no one. now he needs help with basic tasks and constant supervision so he doesn't just fall down and die somewhere.

[pixlpxie]

Hi Pixie!

I'd like to thank you for your openness about sexual things, needs and fantasies, as it greatly helped me accept my own sexual side.

I've always had quite high libido, I get aroused easily and I've always been really into porn, my friends also know me to be "the pervy friend" just based on my humour and general horniness, but even though it's something I can laugh at, I still often feel shame at myself and at the feelings I have.

The feeling that I shouldn't be having these thoughts, that I am somehow flawed and disgusting, that there's something wrong with me because I am so "feral", it just wouldn't leave me alone and it was something I was extremely embarrassed by and I feared that people would find me to be some deranged sexual lunatic.

I went through sexual abuse in my childhood, and accepting that side of me has always been really hard, but you've helped me a lot - to realise that such things are normal and there's nothing shameful about them. That this is all perfectly natural, that it doesn't make me disgusting or wrong or tainted to have sexual needs, that I am allowed to explore kinks and take pleasure from fantasies.

So for that, thank you so much.

I'm sorry for the long message and oversharing, but it always goes through my mind when I see the anon hate you get, people calling you disgusting and such and how effortlessly you shoot them down and laugh at them, absolutely unapologetic.

I wish all those people realised that it's extremely important to have spaces where you can comfortably share these feelings and thoughts, that it should be normalised to talk about sex and sexual needs and that the taboo of it isn't right, especially when it comes to female pleasure. Purity culture isn't cute and women are also people with needs.

Spaces like this help people realise that they aren't wrong or broken for their natural instincts, whether they've been brought up in religious circles or went through abuse, what you're doing on your platform is important to many who thought they were alone in these feelings and feared to talk about it, because they were afraid they would be called weird and disgusting for having a functional body that demands certain things that are natural and healthy.

Thank you very much <3

Ok let me go cry real quick and ill be back 😮‍💨

I had to read this a few times because i usually cant see what i do here as something that could help people so reading this was so valuable, truly it means the world to me. First of all I'm so sorry for what happened to you, you didn't deserve any of that and I hope you are doing well know 🥺💓 you will do even better 🥹🫶🏻

Having a high libido, different sexual desires and needs are totally normal but even to this day it's treated like a taboo like you said. And trust me i know how it feels like to be that pervy friend, it's exactly like the way you described. Almost in every social group im the one who's too much, too freaky, or too 'different'. My friends are so fun and you can always talk abt pervy stuff with them sure but at the end of the day I am always the weird one because usually i know or say stuff that get them a little horrified. Its all fun and games till it starts to get to you, I had to sit down and think why I am the way I am many times because like you said, something must have been wrong with me. Because why would I enjoy things that my friends don't?

Turns out everything's fine and you shouldn't really bother knowing why. It's okay, it's normal, in fact it's healthy. So the hate I get seems so childish to me and honestly it's fun atp. Sex and kinks are natural, they're human. Everyone will enjoy different things, some will like it more plain and simple while some will like more kinky things. You're not disgusting for enjoying things that the majority don't. Sexuality is fluid and endless, you will keep exploring it throughout your entire life and be as fierce as you can while doing it🫶🏻

Like I said, I am usually unable to comprehend the effect my blog has on people but reading your ask and other similar ones make me feel so many emotions. I never thought my blog would be a safe space for you guys 🥹 Please know that you are always welcome on this blog, we can talk about anything you want and I'll always try my best to help you. And please don't ever be sorry for 'oversharing' or writing 'long' asks bc trust me it's not oversharing or long for me. I love being here with you guys and I hope you know that you mean so much to me🥹😭💓

[seongminiz]

pls!! i was about to ask u if u received it or not but also i didn’t want to rush u into replying lol 👉🏻👈🏻😔

what do u think of. too. like. i love what u said and if juyeon keeps going deeper into depravity (forgive me if that doesn’t make sense) um he begins to grow horns?😈😈 and becomes a demon as well and it’s all because he would rather lust over u than be an angel or smth idk

also. idk if this is too fucked up or doesn’t make sense? but like. if u literally become addicted to their cum and are unable to function unless you’ve been fucked and filled up by them (i’m talking jumil) recently? like u get sick if they don’t take care of you and they mock u a lot for being unable to survive with their attention.. idk if that’s too weird tho so😶

pls rizz!matthew is always doing a fish eye stare of some kind pls!!🤭🤭 he’s so funny my little loser /pos

so yes i also loved everything u said and how he would manhandle u but then also!!!! i desperately need jiwoong to wreck u and break u down and punish u for being such a spoiled little silver spoon gobbling brat!!!!!! need him to cum all over ur face and humiliate you omg.. (jiwoong filming u??🫢 jiwoong filming u and matt together maybe.. idk) i need some fuckin humiliation of both u and matthew at his hands oh god

- 🧁 anon

im rlly sorry i just didnt see the notif this morning n then was out the whole day 😕

(mattwoong sandwich part is under the cut btw i yap too much for my own good)

NO YEA THATS EXACTLY WHERE I WAS TRYING TO GO WITH THAT‼️ angel juyo who starts to grow horns n whose wings start falling apart n getting darker the more hes attracted to you and wants to ruin you 💔💔💔 n hyunjae 'teaching' him how to be a demon (= how to ruin u even more) n omg !! needing their cum to live .. thats insane but also i love fuck or die situations so ,, :3 not to get too fucked up but ngl since they're both immortal i think sometimes they'd hold the 'threat' of not giving you their cum and letting u die instead . they won't do it , probably , and they have a way of making you an immortal demon too if something goes wrong and you do die bc they could never let you go - BUT its such a fucked sadistic thing of them to do and sometimes when you get a little too spoiled they need to remind you what your place is and that you are the fucktoy here :3

im like 95% sure this made no sense help

nowww 🥪 mattwoong sandwich 🥪 time‼️‼️‼️

srry this has some slight pet play n maybe dubcon idk i use the word 'forcing' but its not rlly forced omfg im rambling . idk . i went insane bye

im sorry my brain just tunnel visioned on jiwoong filming u n matt omg ★_★ it's so humiliating bc he's calling both of you his desperate puppies who can't wait for their owner and need to mess around behind his back ,, giving you orders on what to do and how to do it , forcing your head so you have no choice but to kiss matt , making out with him until you're both two drooling messes grinding on each other for any kind of release - and ofc jiwoong films all the little disgusting details , like how your spit runs down your chin and the pathetic wet patch at the front of matthew's shorts , and maybe gropes your tits a little and pinches your nipples through your top just to make you squeal and whine for his enjoyment („• ᴗ •„) calls you a spoiled brat n his little slut , and calls matthew a dirty mutt who can only think with his dick omfgfhfbf im going crazy

now i'm thinking of jiwoong having you n matt on ur knees right in front of him to suck n worship his cock too ohhhh i feel sick

[its-getting-bad-again04]

im smoking less, eating right, exercising, my room is neat & clean, I've started producing a project that has REAL potential, I get 5-7 hrs of sleep each night (which is great for college), my grades are great, I see my friends every day, I call my girlfriend most nights, I call my parents every Saturday. I have plans, I am thinking about my future.

And yet,

I haven't felt any identifiable emotions in WEEKS. If I were to rate how I was feeling on a scale from one to ten, I would say it feels like I am just flesh being piloted by a swarm of angry and confused hornets.. I have to give myself things to worry about because all I have is the body feeling and none of the brain shit. Every day, I wake up at 3 am, and I fight to sleep, but I have this painful, stabbing, debilitating feeling swirling in my gut.

The hallucinations have gotten better and worse somehow. They are happening less frequently, and I am able to identify when it's happening pretty quickly some of the time. However, they are louder and clearer, and smoking triggers the sound I call the whispers.

The whispers suck because it is the most threatening and consistent ones. It's also the hardest to decipher as "not real." As I sit here writing this, I don't fully believe they aren't real. since i can't get myself to ignore it, I freak out and get really paranoid. I can't elaborate further.

So, I should stop smoking. However, I can't because I feel the most myself after smoking. The pain of anxiety is lessoned and I just feel so much more present and aware.

BUT I FEEL GREAT! Genuinely I feel awesome. Everything is finally okay, and I feel great and anxious -but great. The project I'm working on might just like be the best thing ever (i know its not realistic) bc I can do it. I am not letting the project dissolve. Everyone thinks I am an idiot, like they don't mean it in a bad way; they just think I am not that smart. HOWEVER, when I show anyone this, it just elevates me. proves I can do it. that I AM GOOD AT THIS. thats all I want.

And yet-

my girlfriend is worried, Im saying the most bullshit things for no reason, I feel overly-confident in my abilities and then overly anxious and unable to move then next. I feel like my emotions arent like happy, sad, anxious, mad, i think my emotions are just degrees of heat.

I tried telling my girlfriend this yesterday, and she looked at me weirdly. I probably didn't say it right. I said I had "inverse feelings" and that if feelings were a number scale from 0 to 100, I would be at a -100. But I think I just sounded stupid, sociopathic, and "edgy." If you haven't figured it out yet, Im only writing this right now because I want to KILL myself out of embarrassment.

I haven't even touched on having a new imaginary friend I call Coach because some of my intrusive thoughts sound like Omniman became a high school football coach. Usually, I imagine my intrusive thoughts as a little demon named Tic, but my head has been just SO WEIRD. My mind is totally scrambled, and all my thoughts sound intrusive, so the "helpful" one has formed into the coach. So I now have two imaginary "friends" representing my intrusive thoughts, yelling shit at me all day. However, after taking the coach's advice, I am such a functioning member of society. lolz

[blankspacebye]

Au Revoir, L' Art des Mémoires

I get a little bit wiser every time I admit that I was wrong. Get a little bit stronger every time I go and fall apart. Can't hold myself together, forever and ever, it's true.

I want to get used to finding joy in remembering and freedom in forgetting.

When people ask me about my biggest fear in this life, the answer is forgetfulness. I’m afraid of forgetting and being forgotten. I’m terrified of one day waking up and forgetting everything I’ve been through in my life; everything being reduced to simple things like just who I am or what my name is. I’m also afraid of being forgotten by the people I love, perhaps due to Alzheimer’s or dementia. That’s why I fear anything related to memory disorders.

It must be painful. It’s like being an empty human that can’t remember and feel the memories that happened in life. I remember watching one of my favorite movies Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, and I could feel the desperation of Joel when he discovered that Clementine, his girlfriend, decided to erase him from her memories. It’s as painful as Clementine’s behavior after erasing Joel from her mind — feeling lost, old, and not making sense of anything due to the identity crisis after losing around two years of her life.

So if I could erase painful memories from my mind, would I? I don’t think so.

A few days later, I was watching a video from my favorite YouTuber. He invited a neurosurgeon to his podcast. The neurosurgeon mentioned many functions of our body that we don’t realize are blessings. One of them is the human ability to forget. Imagine having a significant past trauma; if we forget, we can move on and get a life. Think about all the sensory inputs and experiences you have every minute, every day, every year, and throughout your lifetime. If you remembered every single thing, life would always be filled with memories that might disturb and hold you back. You’d be unable to function; you have to forget some things. Forgetting is not a flaw because of the same reason the neurosurgeon mentioned in the video. Our brain is constantly deciding what to remember and what to forget. It doesn’t always make decisions that we find helpful, but in general, the decisions it makes (primarily unconsciously) are keeping us alive.

So, am I really afraid of forgetting and being forgotten? I once wanted to forget something to dwell a world away from pain. Little did I know that what I wanted was to change how I felt about the memories — from pain to happiness. However, I realize it’s an inhumane view because scars, memories, suffering, and experiences are part of living. I couldn’t choose whether I’d rather have my brain erased to experience pure happiness again and again or know the past, its mistakes, and grow out of it. No matter how painful it may seem, our minds witness the battles we’ve fought and the roads we’ve walked. At the end of the day, we are our happiness but also our pain.

So, let’s get back to the movie Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. I love the fact that the movie isn’t aiming to be the perfect love story; it wants to depict the messiness of human relationships, and it does it so well. As Joel experiences all these memories being erased, he realizes that no matter how much pain and heartbreak he feels, it’s not worth losing these memories of Clementine. It’s an extended metaphor saying that even though heartbreak is awful, the happiness felt at the peak of the relationship and the personal growth you get from it is worth the pain.

What I see is not that we want to learn from our mistakes to feel happiness — it’s to experience them again — but experience them differently. Not totally the same, but with different outlooks, much like how Joel’s character changed to a spontaneous guy and Clementine’s character changed at the end. It seems we think that if we acted differently, things would end up more favorable.

So by the end, what’s different? If, by the end of the movie, they are still doing the same thing for the same reasons, then they haven’t learned or developed at all. No, it’s not. The whole point is that they have this revelation that there is more to it than that; they grasp a higher meaning to their fate.

It’s better to have loved and lost than not have loved at all.

People are always going to remember and forget. Pain or happiness, it doesn’t matter because a person is built from both. The only thing apparent was to live the best you can so that no regretful decisions can change the way we feel about our memories. There is essentially no safe point in time to make your perspective and the only safe point is now.

These selective memories are true representations of the experiences that are still rooted in fact and most importantly reflect how we will look back at the memories as we move on. Every thought we have, every word we speak, every action we engage in — indeed, our very sense of self and our sense of connectedness to others — we owe to our memory, they always live in us as we grow.

Having a spotless mind does not always bring eternal sunshine. Happiness is not supposed to be eternal, but it is everywhere. Find yours and spread it to the people around you.

In your memory, Sati Soirée.

P.S. When I write this post, I replaying Dividends by DWLLRS. The lyrics on pre-chorus song is on point and makes me realize that there's long way that I've been through yet there's long way there to living through. This song is exceptional and it makes me happy all day, realizing that there's magical thing called The Art of Memoirs.

I think I get one step closer to gain my clarity. Well, I know that I still have to learn more but knowing the fact that memory has its own magic were amazing. It's a same topic as I write Lieu de Mémoire but this post gives me more clarity. Well, solid in solitude right?

[tertiusdecimusfilius]

Here are some of my Roboute Guilliman headcanons no one asked for that are very self indulgent ranging in the amount of feels because fuck you:

On probably one of the lighter notes, Roboute has ASD (autism spectrum disorder) although his isn't super obvious. His special interests happened to involve logistics, policy, and keeping things orderly. It helped him excel in his work in the Ultramar system and beyond. Though it did account for his lack of charisma and somewhat awkwardness, especially growing up.

Due to a mutation in his DNA at his creation, he was originally female. When he was brought to Konor Guilliman he was given the name [REDACTED], but still having the same upbringing though he was raised as a woman. When he was found by the Emperor and discovered he had originally been intended to be a Son of the Emperor, it made everything click into place. With the help of his father and brothers he was able to transition quite quickly. His mother was the one that gave him his new name Roboute.

Because of the above, most of his Ultramarines are trans men who joined up as young women who knew they were destined to be sons of Guilliman. This allowed them to not only receive the necessary upgrades to become space marines, but also give them the opportunity to quickly and freely transition. He also does have many cis men and even some cis women among his ranks.

Ever since his resurrection he tends to have frequent nightmares; either visions of the past conflicts with or deaths of his brothers, visions of his fragmented father speaking to him in the Throne Room, or strange nonsensical vision from the Warp. This leads to him being quite exhausted a good deal of the time, though he can usually power through most days. On the nights he gets little to no sleep it leaves him nauseated and unable to eat for most of the day, though it usually calms by the evening. On the days he does get a good night's rest he feels like he can do just about anything, but he tends to accidentally overwork himself.

Due to the injury sustained by Fulgrim during the Heresy, Roboute has some issues with his throat. Because of the poisoned wound in his neck it degraded quite a bit of its functioning even while stuck in the stasis field. Since it hasn't been that long since his resurrection the problems are frequent and range in severity. On his good days he has no issues other than sometimes having a dull pain in his neck. On most days he has difficulty swallowing food or drink, but can usually coax it down by rubbing the space where his jaw meets his neck. It also makes it difficult to speak at times, paralyzing his voice. On the really bad days the pain and inability to use any function of his throat requires aid from one of his apothecaries because he ends up being unable to speak, eat, drink, and in severe cases, impairs his ability to breathe.

[benjaminthewolf]

Sweet, Tainted Love (Vore Story) (Carol Pred, Whitty Prey)

HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY!

Yet another story requested by @starlightgirl242, featuring the OG canon couple, Carol and Whitty!

****

“Alright, buddy, arms to the sky!” BF spunkilly called out to the currently rather anxious bomb-man known far and wide as Whitty whom he was currently aiding in preparation for his date. The two were standing in front of the mirror in BF’s bathroom, attempting to preen the bomb up, and to the seemingly excessive preparations that BF was currently putting him through, Whitty was beginning to feel just a little bit uncomfortable.

“Is this…*cough*...really necessary…?” Whitty stammered back in uneasy protest as BF generously sprayed the contents of a chocolate-scented cologne bottle all across the man’s body and fancy date suit. (Only able to do so since he was standing on a stool).

“Take it from an expert, Whitty!” BF promptly responded with pride. “When it comes to a date, EVERY little aspect of the atmosphere matters, and that includes your smell!”

“Yes…” Whitty awkwardly began to drag out. “...but…why chocolate-scented cologne? And…what if the cologne ends up irritating Carol’s nose instead of helping?”

“Don’t worry! This is a magical brand of cologne I got from GF’s place that won’t cause any irritation whatsoever, because it's made of magic rather than chemicals! That means no sneezing, no eye-rubbing, no none of that! And it's because you’re going to the ice cream shop to get a caramel brownie sundae with her! She’s gonna be absolutely soakin’ in that chocolate smell! We don’t want anything like rose or fresh breeze scented cologne mixing in with that and making neither scent palatable! We gotta just blend right in!”

Whitty shrugged his shoulders with a sigh. “...fine…” he eventually ended up conceding without any more protest.

“Speaking’ of roses, though…” BF began to allude as he proceeded to set the bottle down, step off the stool, and reach behind him. “TA-DAH! Also straight from GF’s place!”

Having pulled out a vibrant, seemingly glowing red rose from seemingly cartoon hammerspace, BF promptly hopped back on the stool, and carefully tucked the dazzling, romantic flower deep into Whitty’s suit pocket. Now, there was only one more thing that needed to be done before the bomb-man was ready to go.

“Alright, now let’s see here…I really wish GF would've left a bookmark or something for me…” BF began mumbling to himself as he attentively flipped through the pages of an intermediate spell book owned by GF as well, that which he had also pulled from cartoon hammerspace, before finally locating the needed page. “AHA! Here it is! An anti-anxiety spell, specifically of the romantic variety! Basically functions the same as medication, except it's actually free! Heh, no wonder it's illegal in some places!”

Whitty gave an exceedingly elongated eye roll at BF’s snarky comment before the teal-haired man began attempting to execute the spell.

“...good god why do all these love-related spells have to be written in French?”

“...because…French is the language of love?” Whitty attempted to respond.

“...well…yes, but…” BF began to grumble back before promptly stopping himself. “Okay whatever let’s just get this all done already. Don’t wanna make you late. *AHEM*!”

BF proceed to take in a rather sharp inhale, before letting forth the breath with the beginnings of the spell.

“Tu sortirai avec le seul, mais si tu as mauvais linceul, tu verrouiller ton sellument chance, et à ton vie viendra malchance!”

Neither man was quite sure, exactly, what had happened next within that enclosed bathroom, as the magic had rendered them utterly unable to do so. And yet, when Whitty was able to consciously perceive the world around him again, it appeared as though the spell had indeed done its job.

“That was…unbelievable!” he eventually managed to force out as some form of a response as he gazed down at his now magically enhanced body. “...what does that translate to, anyway?”

“Uh…” BF began to drone as he vehemently searched the pages for a translation. “...uh, it says here it translates to something like… ‘You will go out with the one-’ which of course means your lover… ‘but if you have a bad… “shroud”...’...I think that’s referring to like a secretive veil of mystery or…oh but this word specifically means a shroud as in a burial garment so I think it's a metaphor for how…going to such an important event with looming anxiety is like…going to lead to your metaphorical grave or some shit like that…uh…ANYWAY- ‘you will lock your only chance, and to your life will come…bad luck.’” both men were then silent for quite a prolonged period of time. “...at least…that’s what it means according to these notes.”

“...rrrrrright…well, thanks for all the help BF!” Whitty lauded BF as the rather time-restrained bomb began to turn the handle to the door.

“...ay, no problem, man! I got you!” BF semi-smuggly replied whilst giving his good friend a casual finger-gun gesture. “GOOD LUCK!”

“YOU TOO-I MEAN-YES I WILL!” Whitty promptly called back behind himself as he zipped his way out of the bathroom.

BF casually leaned against a cupboard door as he internally congratulated himself on his work. “Ah…good ol’ Whitty…” he began longingly murmuring to himself. “WELP!” he finally perked back up with a readying clap of his hands. “Best get back to work on that solo!”

****

Whitty continuously gazed around himself in rapidly compounding silence. Carol should definitely be here by now. What could possibly be going on? Taking multiple sidelong glances at the area around the table, observing many other couples who were already getting it on, as well as all the fervently toiling employees doing their very, very best to keep up with the current valentines rush, the bomb-man listlessly exhaled.

As this particular well-known ice cream joint had, indeed, anticipated the oncoming business come february fourteenth, all of the tables, nay, the entire establishment had been decorated accordingly, with fancy, white tablecloths having been set up at each table, with an exquisite array of flowers sitting as the centerpiece right next to the sprinkle shakers and fudge. The lights had been slightly dimmed, and there was slow, smooth mood music flowing out from the establishment’s speakers above. It was all but perfect for a couple of sugar-loving…well…lovers to settle down for the day and romanticize. And yet, alone, Whitty sat. He didn’t exactly want to call Carol, he knew she would show up eventually, but…just what was happening on her end? Whitty just could not get the question out of his head. It wasn’t exactly a feeling of anxiety he was experiencing, mainly due to the magic, but whatever this feeling was, it was still extremely uncomfortable. Still, he sat still and silent, not daring to cause any sort of commotion. It wouldn’t take long before, in this state of confusion and perplexity, Whitty eventually closed his eyes, if only so he may pretend this wasn’t going on. The sweet, slackened jazz easing its way across the room seemed only to mock him at this point, for still being seated alone in this place on this day. He could practically hear the melody speaking to him…calling him out…almost publicly for that matter.

“Whitty…” it softly sung forth. “Whitty…Whitty!”

Whitty dared not open his eyes.

“Hey! Whitty!”

Whitty’s lower lip began to quiver.

“Whitty! It’s me! Carol!”

“HUH-” Whitty let out at last, causing him to somewhat jolt up to attention.

And like that, there she was. Laden within a silky, flowing white colored dress, as well as high heels the same shade, was his beloved girlfriend Carol, just as stunning and extravagant as the day he first saw her. Whitty was forced to let forth a lighthearted chuckle of embarrassment, along with a slight blush at the realization, that which both parties lightheartedly continued for some time, as Carol at last took a seat.

Now that the table’s other party member had finally arrived, the waiter came up to them at last, in order to ask what they wanted. Whitty responded to the question with a smile, as he knew exactly what they were going to get. He was very well aware of just how much Carol loved brownie, and seeing as this ice cream shop was rolling out a limited edition caramel brownie sundae available only for the month of love, that was indeed what the bomb-man was going to order, and precisely why he had insisted on going to this ice cream place in particular; he wished to greet her with a surprise.

Carol deeply blushed with a slightly suppressed squeal of excitement upon realizing this fact, sending a glistening, toothy smile shining back onto the flustered bomb’s own; causing him to grow even redder and bring a slightly closed hand up to his face, in order to cover his bashful look. Carol reacted to the sheepish gesture with an understanding giggle, as the waiter strode away from the table, and the wait for their ice cream finally commenced.

Whitty, his body unusually calm due to the magical effects of the spell, at last began the conversation with his beloved, now that he had the opportunity to do so thanks to BF.

“You look…amazing…in that dress!” He finally let forth, unable to think of a better adjective.

“Oh, yes of course!” Carol positively gushed with charmed bliss from the praise. “Mommy Mearest made it special for me! Obviously based it on her daughter’s famous own, y’know!”

Whitty chuckled lightly. “Yes, I had a feeling that’s where the inspiration came from!”

The two, entranced, wondrous lovers proceeded to release a delighted chuckling bout, although at no point in the prior conversation had either of them attempted to make a joke.

“...and I assume that BF helped you pick out that suit?” Carol finally continued.

“Oh, yes…he’s helped me out with a lot of things, no doubt!”

“Oh that’s for certain!”

Yet another gleeful, amusing bout of laughter was momentarily launched into fruition, as Whitty promptly reached towards himself and into his suit pocket for his glistening, dynamic rose. The still-blushing bomb-man waited patiently for the moment Carol had stopped laughing, in order to best time his oncoming gesture.

“...I…want you to have this.” He was at last able to lightly speak at last, extending the vividly tainted flower all the way across the table for Carol to see. Carol gasped audibly before promptly covering her mouth in her elation, prompting Whitty to swiftly yet carefully slip the rose nicely into her hair via its stem.

At last, from merely the corner of his eye, Whitty detected the waiter. More than that though, he also detected the heaping amounts of caramel on which the current dish they were carrying was topped. Whitty thus concluded this could only mean one thing. Internally, he was rather confused as to how time had already gone by so fast, but now was not the time to worry about that. As Whitty still had his hand near Carol’s hair, he knew what his next move needed to be.

Whitty cautiously yet steadily brought his other hand around to eventually rest on the other side of Carol’s head, before shifting his gaze directly into hers, and leaning in forwards just slightly. Carol, realizing almost instantly what Whitty was communicating to her, gave the iconic, incoming bomb-man a jubilant twinkle from her eyes, before she finally leaned in as well.

Thus, just as the waiter approached the couple’s table, both of the lovers’ lips were firmly and longingly pressed upon each other. Not exactly wanting to interrupt the moment, said waiter merely stood there in silence as the two of them continued their joint revelry.

As the kiss was going on, however, Whitty’s gently grasping hands slowly and sensually moved all about his beloved’s hair. Within any other circumstance, this would not be a problem in even the slightest sense of the word. However, in this particular case, with a glowing, red rose having come from the magical household of the Dearests, brushing against the flower’s petal was far more than enough to cause the moment to finally bring itself to conclusion.

At first, Carol had merely assumed that she could not feel Whitty’s hands or lips against her body anymore because he had simply pulled away. Thus, pulling herself back into her previous position as well whilst keeping her eyes closed, Carol slightly bowed her head in respect to the bomb-man, and was just about to open her eyes herself, before the now rather worried waiter instantly snatched her attention by simply tapping her on the shoulder.

“Hmm?” Carol let out as she stared inquisitively up at the slightly sweating server.

“Umm…miss…” the waiter shakily stammered out. “You…might want to look in front of you.”

Carol, within the sudden state of slight panic and confusion she was experiencing, practically whipped around her form, in order to observe what exactly was going on. That was when she saw it. That’s when her blood pressure skyrocketed.

“Wh-Whitty!” she quiveringly cried out, before rushing in to scoop up her suddenly shrunken love.

“C-Carol…” Whitty stuttered out, causing Carol to lean in closer towards his marshmallow-sized form. “...I think…” he began to feebly explain. “...I think…there was magic in the rose…”

“Huh?” Carol instinctively responded, before she finally managed to put the pieces together inside of her head. “Oh…” she shuddered out. “Oh…dear…”

Whitty, understanding now the gravity of the current situation, and absolutely not wishing for the date to continue like this, or even outright end entirely, gently caressed Carol’s giant thumb, before speaking up one more time, in an attempt to console her, and prevent her from bringing forth any tears.

“...but…” he awkwardly hesitated for a moment, causing Carol to once again direct her attention towards him. Some form of an idea was indeed forming inside the bomb-man’s mind, and yet he had absolutely zero clue how best to communicate it forth.

“Carol…” he finally decided to speak up. “...I think I have…an idea.”

****

Carol glanced downwards just slightly so she may address Whitty for one final time before the both of them began the latter’s new idea.

“Are you ready, Whitty?” she confidently asked.

To his lover’s sudden, finalizing question, Whitty, sitting casually on top of the heaping mound of caramel-glazed ice cream which the waiter had set down by this point, could only manage a shy smile and a blush along with an affirmative head nod; therefore causing Carol to respond with a silent head nod of her own.

Promptly reaching over for her spoon whilst still maintaining eye contact, Carol’s delicately twinkling eyes gave an ever so subtle shift towards a gaze which Whitty could only presume to be inaudibly communicating her current experience of a feeling known only as gratitude. Gratitude not only towards the bomb-man’s recent quick thinking, but also, as the shrunken lover was just barely able to discern, gratitude for having stayed along with her, for keeping by her side, for being the one she could rely on, throughout all of the years that they had been together together within their joined lives.

And with that, Witty could sense something that was akin to the sensation of being lifted. This was, of course, because Carol had at this point dipped her spoon into the chilled, smoothed and sweetened floor of ice cream upon which he had been sitting thus far, and had subsequently hoisted the man into the air, and yet it seemed to Whitty that this had barely anything to do with the sensation. No, what seemingly elated him beyond the current status of sitting down was merely the confirmation, straight from the woman’s own eyes, that she was indeed his other.

Whitty could soon thereafter sense a soothing front of warmth being calmly breezed across his body, as the area around him began to significantly increase in temperature. Being thus allowed by his subconsciousness to once again take a gaze around him, Whitty, right then and there, was able to bear witness to the gaping, squishy cavern, entirely encompassing his vision, that was the giant Carol’s maw, as the spoon he had been riding upon was inched deeper and deeper still into its confines, whilst the woman simultaneously lowered the utensil down towards the floor of her tongue.

The second the bottom of the spoon made contact with the dampened, squishy muscle, the formerly extremely widened and stretched-out chamber began to close in upon itself, therefore firmly locking its contents inside. Doing her very best to unload the spoon’s contents onto her taste buds, Carol gently and cautiously eased Whitty, along with as much ice cream as she could, down and onto her tongue, before finally slipping the utensil out of her maw, and firmly enclosing the area at last.

Whitty, at the mere size of a standard-volume marshmallow, aided by his naturally long limb length and height, was able to sprawl himself across the width and length of the tongue, not minding at all having his suit get stained with all the caramel drizzle and ice cream. His fingers grasping lightly onto the slickened ends of the muscle, Whitty was soon able to extend his lengthy arms so that he was able to wrap them around its cushiony form, and subsequently nuzzle his blushing face deep into its radiant, natural warmth.

Carol, recognizing what Whitty was doing from the outside, began to affectionately tear up. Taking a second to whip the seeping tears from her eyes, the giant woman cautiously began to move her lovingly embraced muscle about, swishing it sensually between her cheeks, as a method of showing the bomb-man within her appreciation for the action he had taken. Carol wasn’t exactly sure why, but it seemed to outright ooze out from within the bomb-man’s being the exquisite, rich and creamy taste that was chocolate. This wasn’t something that she particularly minded, of course, but it was an intriguing sensation nonetheless, and one that she was fully intent on savoring within the present moment in time, causing her to begin salivating longingly, and increasing the muscle’s sponginess as a result.

Whitty gave a pleased murmur as this happened, his own eyes also beginning to grow teary with each oncoming swish. It almost seemed as if he were to be locked in this moment for eternity, from his perspective, before at last, Whitty sensed a subtle rise in his current elevation once more, and, upon opening his eyes, was subsequently, warmly greeted with the sudden, gaping presence that was Carol’s widened gullet; open, stretched out, and ready. Carol had, of course, allowed for the front of the tongue to rise, in order to allow the resulting sloping to aid Whitty into the oncoming drop. Carefully uncurling his fingers around her wetted, squishy tongue, Whitty readily embraced the downwards acceleration as he slid his way on down, and into Carol’s gullet. The woman’s plump, dangling uvula swayed casually above his head, as the bomb-man’s tiny body was effortlessly inserted into the upper esophageal sphincter, before at last being squeezed down in one gulp, and squelched into the esophagus as such.

Carol on the outside gave a rather lengthy sigh upon finally having taken the needed swallow. Now, it was up to her body. Tenderly placing a couple of fingers onto the slight bulge Whitty was making inside of her throat, Carol thus was able to follow his journey downwards as the shrunken, delicate bomb-man, locked within the tight confines of the powerful esophageal walls, was constantly shoved forwards, and down towards the woman’s awaiting stomach.

Whitty had closed his eyes once more at this stage, and was merely paying his attention towards the consistent, squelching motions shoving him along within the throat. The cushiony esophageal muscles tightened themselves all around his tiny form, before their grip released, and therefore pushed him on forth in the process. Whitty had absolutely no idea exactly how long this process was to continue, but just as long as he was here, he was going to enjoy it for just about as long as he could. So, to this end, he silently gave a pleased sigh, before he lay extremely complacently against the massaging forces guiding him towards his destination, positively soaking up their sensual atmosphere as they did. Eventually, however, as the distantly thumping baseline that quite simply could not be anything but a heartbeat began to boom itself in and around Whitty’s ears. This told him he had made it past Carol’s collarbone, and was becoming significantly closer to her patiently waiting, rumbling stomach.

Carol on the outside, now that she couldn’t exactly follow Whitty anymore, promptly turned her attention back towards the delectable caramel brownie sundae lying in front of her. There was still a heaping lot of the sundae’s form which was indeed yet to be downed by the woman, and Carol knew as a result just exactly what she needed to do now. Casually placing one hand over her stomach, Carol gave the area a couple pats, as her way of letting Whitty know he’d still be okay despite the oncoming rain of chilling ice cream. Of course, Whitty was not quite inside the stomach yet, and was unable to pick up on this message as a result, but nonetheless he did indeed recognize implicitly that he would have to watch out for falling ice cream the moment he entered into the chamber, and was to be needingly aware of this fact once inside.

Finally, Whitty was able to tell that the echoing grumbling and groaning, that which was emulating from the constantly active organ within, had all but raised to a volume which meant he was merely seconds away. Still, he dared not open his eyes until he could feel his head being squelched through the lower esophageal sphincter. Once this inevitably came to be, however, Whitty instantly freed up his gaze.

With the rest of his body naturally following suit after his head, Whitty was therefore swiftly squeezed all the way through and made a tumbling splash landing into the gurgling, churning area, forcing him to promptly re-adjust his position for a moment in order for him to get himself comfortable. As this was happening, though, Carol on the outside had finally become aware of Whitty’s sudden landing inside her stomach, with how his arrival naturally caused the area to become more active and sloshy. Now knowing definitely that he would be ready once the first spoonfuls of ice cream came down, Carol began to rapidly pick up the pace of her eating, as the current craving sensation she was experiencing was absolutely not going away, she knew as a fact, until this here sundae was gone.

Whitty, meanwhile, had finally managed to get himself situated, casually leaning up against the cautiously shifting walls and pressing deeply into their pillowy goopyness, as he attempted to wrap his arms around the form of said walls just as he had done with the tongue. Feeling his entire body being churned all around and about alongside the watery, harmless liquids around him, Whitty would seemingly but inevitably began to blush deeply with a smile, his miniscule form heating up further all due to its current bodily affection towards Carol, therefore leaving him pretty much unable to even mind as the woman’s first dousing of ice cream came spurting through the above esophageal sphincter, making its way therefore into the swirling mixture inside and generating more of its churn. Both Whitty and Carol had indeed all but lost their sense of time at this stage. Indeed, they were instead merely enjoying this moment. Whitty of course was enjoying the reality of being so deeply entwined within the body of his lover, locked deeply away within her chambers and being, as Carol on the outside was enjoying shoving spoonfull after spoonful of delectable, mouthwatering ice cream onto her taste buds one after another, before they eventually took the same journey as Whitty, and entered inside to join with him in due course of time.

Carol could feel the activity of her middle rapidly increasing as she neared her way towards the end of the sundae. Still not allowing her binge to slow down even minutely towards its end, Carol at last scraped up the final remains of the ice cream onto her sugar-soaked tongue, before at long last, it too, was swept from the chamber, bound down.

Carol heaved forwards a hefty wheeze, before taking the next few moments in order to regain her bearings. When, after a short while, she finally felt as though she was ready, she once again moved her attention in towards her stomach, and more specifically, towards the still carefully churning, wall-bound, tiny, lightly clinging bomb-man who was laying inside of her stomach. Carol leaned backwards into her chair, before she finally placed both hands over the area. And then, once more, it was time for the moment to lock.

It was, of course, there, within that presently tight, secluded, separated moment, that was o’ so gently tucked away within the ever boundless catalog of time, that the two, seemingly just as boundless entities whom were known as Whitty and Carol were finally able to join. Finally were they able to blend together their bodies and merge into the other’s being within a past-tense process which so smoothly and utterly effortlessly had led themselves up towards this moment. Everything which had happened before, now, mattered not. Everything which was to happen in the future, also, mattered not. Not within this. Not within here. Not within the present frame of time. No. To the couple of Whitty and Carol, a couple which had indeed journeyed and toiled together hard towards this end, the only singular thing that mattered, was that they were now one; and it was indeed because it did matter that the moment extended so far.

[soundcrusher]

Processor aches are no fun

He, he, he. One writing project done, (at least for now), two more to go. Let's see how much inspiration I have tomorrow and which project I will concentrate on. Phoenix's story or Starhopper's?

Who knows? I don't and I'm excited to see what it will be. (Hopefully the inspiration to write surrvives till tomorrow.)

Either way, enjoy!

KRAN frametype and lore made by @cuppajj

>:,:<>:,:<>:,:<>:,:<>:,:<>:,:<>:,:<>:,:<>:,:<>:,:<>:,:<>:,:<

Danny has just been working in the small cargo hold of Toymaker’s ship. Carrying boxes and making sure they were fastened properly while listening to some music. Just normal work, but as the song ended and the current one started, Danny could feel something spark in his processor. Or, at least it felt like something sparked, as a splitting pain started to overwhelm his processor. Causing Danny to let out a small whimper, as he clutched his helm and sunk to his knees. 

This always happened when he was remembering something. He has learned this much, but whenever the pain stopped, he was back at square one. Danny could hardly remember anything afterwards. Sometimes, he was lucky enough to have the memory for maybe a day or longer, but more often than not, the memory was gone as quickly as it came. And it would always leave a processor ache in its place. 

Although, sometimes, like now, the pain would be too much for Danny to handle and it would leave him unable to function for some time. Forcing him to his knees and slowly eating away at his processor, until he either passed out or powered through it. And most of the time, he would choose passing out over feeling pain. It made everything easier for him. Just passing out and not caring for when he would wake up. But something kept him from doing that. 

No, someone was talking to him. Their voice was muddled, but he could feel them holding his servos. It was… calming. It made his pain slowly go away, and as he opened his optics, Danny could see Apprentice’s concerned ones. A strange sight, if he was allowed to admit it. Usually these optics wouldn’t hold such concern. They were always happy. Danny liked them more when they were happy.

“Danny? You can hear me right? If you can, repeat after me, okay? I know you can do it.” Said Apprentice, as he clutched Danny’s servos tighter. Making sure the KRAN would look at him, while he started to slowly count down from ten to one. Repeating himself, when he saw his friend's attention slip away from him and only continuing to the next number, when Danny repeated the first one. “Good, you’re doing good Danny. Just keep on focusing on me, okay? I’m here. Can you feel my servos around yours?”

“Y…yeah… I think… I think I can…” Muttered Danny, as he looked down at Apprentice’s servos. Muttering something underneath his breath, before looking back up at his friend’s face. “I can feel them…” He said, which made the flier let out a relieved sigh. “Good. Good. That’s good. Anything else you can feel?”

Slowly, Danny nodded as he concentrated on his surroundings. “I… I think I feel the ground… We’re on the ground, right? I can feel that… and… And I can feel my body. My arms and my legs and a weird breeze and the pain in my processor… and… And your servos… Have they always been warm?” 

“I might have worked on Bear-Dragon The Second and made it a toy that can be used to warm you up when it gets cold. But… I might have calculated a few things wrong and now I’m a little bit warmer than usual. It should go away soon though.” Apprentice couldn’t help the chuckle that followed. He should really start heeding Toymaker’s warnings and stop experimenting with things, but it’s just way funnier to see what one can do and get away with, before everything explodes. Not that Apprentice let anything explode, like, ever. Yea. And even if he did, there was no-one who could prove it!

“Either way, are you steady enough to get up Danny? I think sitting down in a nice chair would be better for you than kneeling on the floor.” Apprentice was careful, as he stood up and pulled Danny with him. Making sure that his movements were small and wouldn’t startle the mech. After that, he gave the KRAN a big smile, before pulling him towards his workstation. Sitting him down in a chair and drabing a big blanket over the confused mech. “This blanket is… heavier than the others…” Muttered Danny, as he pulled the blanket tighter around his frame. Giving Apprentice a small confused but also nervous look. “Of course it’s heavier. It IS a weighted blanket after all. Especially good when you need to feel secure. If you want, I could also get some music for you, or maybe some K-Juice? I should have some around here…”

“N-no! I don’t… I don’t need anything… The blanket is fine… Thanks Teacup…” Muttered Danny, before he took a look around the workshop. Usually, Apprentice would never let him in here, or, at least he hasn’t asked him yet if he was allowed to come in. The flier always seemed to be too deep into his work and Danny didn’t want to disturb him. But now he could take a good look at everything, and the thing that stuck out the most were the various models of human furniture scattered around the desk. Apprentice did mention once that he enjoyed making organic sized furniture for the guests Toymaker would sometimes have. But seeing them either half finished or finished was something else. 

Although, seeing the furniture reminded Danny of his human friends, and that in return reminded him of his processor aches and how, apparently, Apprentice knew an easier way to deal with them. “Teacup… if I’m allowed to ask, how did you… you know?”

“Know how to get you grounded?” Finished Apprentice with a sigh, as he turned around to face Danny. Leaning against the working table with his back, while rubbing both servos over his face. Giving the KRAN a small loopy smile afterwards. “Well… my younger brother used to get processor aches too. His weren’t caused by memories though, but rather sensory overloads. At least, we called it a sensory overload whenever sounds and noises were getting too much for him. He was made with very sensitive audials and optics.” Apprentice pointed to his own audials as he said that. Wiggling his digits, as if he was trying to make a point, before continuing. “My older brother never really knew what to do, so it was up to me to learn how to help him. Yes, it was trial and error, because we didn’t have anyone who could have helped us, but I managed to find a good way. Which included getting his attention, or wrapping him up in a blanket. Sometimes, I would even make music or play some music from the stolen radio we had. It always helped him calm down…. After a while I even managed to make him some special… special…. Humans call them earmuffs. I made that, but for him. I made a lot of things for my brother back then…”

Danny knew about Apprentice’s brothers from Toymaker, or, better said, he knew that the flier had brothers and that they were gone now. He also knew how much it saddened Apprentice to talk about them, so Danny decided to quickly change the topic. “E-either way… I’m glad that you helped me… I know that you don’t like me and stuff. So, it means a lot that you came to my aid.” Danny was about to start rambling about how Apprentice didn’t have to help him, but the flier’s laughter stopped him from it. 

“Who said I don’t like you? Danny, you’re a friend, a buddy, a pal. Maybe not a bestie, that title is reserved for only one, but you’re still my friend. Yes. I was wary of you when you came on board, but you’ve grown on me. We’re friends now, and friends watch over each other. Don’t they?” Asked Apprentice, which got him a small nod and an enthusiastic ‘Yes!’ from Danny. 

‘And…’ Thought the flier, as he sat down on the work table. Starting up a conversation about the latest music both of them heard afterwards. ‘And maybe you remind me of my younger brother. You two might not have the same frame type, nor personality, but you still remind me of him… And that somewhat helps with the ache in my spark.’

[tree-gutz]

Physically haven't been able to eat, think I've developed partial gastro paresis, stop if you can, your stomach will start to freeze and be unable to digest food anymore and you will end up like me feeling like you're going to vomit 24/7 and be unable to enjoy a holiday you're on because you're scared you'll have to call an ambulance for yourself because you keep passing out and throwing up and you have no insurance outside of Ireland and not being able to sleep or eat for three days is almost heart attack or stroke levels of bad :)))))

So.... Stop because you'll get gastroparesis and it is the worst thing and I've been in denial for months but I have caused half of my stomach to freeze and be unable to do its normal job because I thought being 52kg was better than being able to function as a human being and not die

I look hot but I feel like I'm dying, I look hot but I put on clothes and I walk around looking so dead, I walk around throwing up on streets, I walk around crying, no one finds me attractive.

My boyfriend loves me. I am lucky. He sits with me while my stomach won't allow food further than my throat, he sits with me while I vomit onto a bridge In Front of his entire friend group because I've eaten a little too much, he finds me a bathroom when I'm about to throw up in a shopping center.

But he shouldn't have to.

Recover.

Get help.

I'm begging you, you'll beg yourself soon.

At this point, I don't know how to recover... My stomach isn't able to do its job anymore, how am I supposed to fix it now...

[oennpellmell]

Stuck in a moment

Have you ever have one of those moment, when you have known a song for years that you found nice in passing, but put no mind into it, until it finds its way back to you years later, and suddenly, you understand it so deeply it moves you to tears? Because you sadly got to experience what it was talking about, and you couldn't appreciate the message until then? And now that you have, you feel so grateful this song exists?

I never though I would ever cry to a U2 song. Not because I don't like that group. I do. I have a couple of albums from them and have been listening to their music since 2001. But their music never stroke my soul, until now because I wasn't yet ready for what they meant musically.

Usually, the music I listen to are music I can put on scenes and stories I made, that can help carry an emotional narrative. U2's songs are already so full and melodically so unique, I found difficult to use them as a story back up. They tell their own story, but they don't tell mine. And maybe that is why I couldn't appreciate them so far, because I was treating it like any other song. I applied them to a story, instead of myself. But finally, it all changed.

Those last days have been rather tough on me. The past years were in general, but the last month was peculiarly rough. However, I feel like sharing some of the relief a couple lyrics gave me today.

My health plummeted at the beginning of this year. Again. But honestly, this time gave me a fright. It started with a little cold. A simple cold and a bit of fever. But due to my second COVID last summer, my health was already fragile and my immune system weakened. So I had not much defense left against this tiny bug which, worsen, and grow like a snowball, spreading to my lungs, leaving me breathless and suffocating for weeks.

I spend a full month battling against that, trying to find a way to breath again. Every whiff of air being harder than the previous one. People don't realize how breathing is important until you struggle to get enough air in your system to function. Fearing sleeping because you do not know if you will wake up again gasping for air, your heart racing. Because your nose is sealed off, so dry, it bleeds, because you clenching your jaw and if you breath from your mouth, you will trigger a wave of coughing that will chock you up. Having to run in another room during the night to not wake up anyone, and being there alone, suffocating, unable to get anything in because your body wants desperately to expulse something that isn't there. Feeling you chest tensed, trying to calm the spasms, that you know will just hurt you more.

In those moments, you are left with no energy, except the one to think. To think of what you have become.

A shell of yourself you have dragged along for the past 4 years. A husk of a person that can't get out of bed, that get tired from simply changing cloth. That loons around, trying to find a reason to be. And wondering were your let yourself go and why you can't find it back. Despite fighting, and searching. And failing, over and over to regain a spark that will put you back on your legs.

Because the idea of standing up is overshadowed by your fear of not knowing how long it will take before you will physically collapse again. Because you realize, that drawing, reading, creating doesn't bring you any joy any more. While your entire life, it was your reason to be. And without that, you can't find enough power to fight against your own broken body.

It was you air. And now, you struggle to even do those things, you could do without thinking. Having to fight and struggle to even take in any tiny amount of it, not because you enjoy it - the feeling of peace is long gone - but because if you give up, you are as good a dead.

To come to the realization that my art was my breath but now I am fighting to get it back, just like I am fighting to get air, is heartbreaking. It is not a pleasant feeling. This suffocating distress of needing something, gathering all your will power to grasp any amount you can to give yourself a brief reprieve, only to realize you didn't get enough and have to fight for more the second it fades away.

So you lie there, taking it all in. That this has been your life for the past years. With your art, your motivation, your joy, your energy, your everything. And that it is simply manifesting in the most physical way possible.

You are stuck in a moment. Stuck in a loop for so long you don't know how to get out of it. Something you don't even wish to your worse enemy. You want to finish you project, the way you want oxygen again. But you can't because your body won't allow you to. Your heart is frozen, your mind shattered, and just like an infection, spreading, growing because it found the perfect weaken ground, it take roots and won't let go.

Then you hear a song, you haven't heard in years. In a movie you watched because you came across it in a moment of dephasing and let yourself be carried by your curiosity. You see an old lion, crippled by grief, unable to leave his house, unable to sing again, because his muse is gone, be sang to one of his songs, by a random stranger. A song about being stuck. And suddenly, the lyrics make sense to you. And make you cry.

Because the lyrics are you. They are your pain, and they are your sorrow, and they allow you you the tears you have been holding back, and the rage you tried to contain, to form and escape.

Oddly this pain, you knew was there and have acknowledged many times before without really looking at it, isn't ugly. Isn't scary. It is there with you, but it is not a monster. It is a proof of your life, of the joy long gone, and the hope that was once there.

It is not to be feared. It is to be hugged and comforted. It is not your enemy, it is your reflection. It need not to be fought, it needs to be looked at. It is the proof you are still there, feeling, and casting it aside, is casting a part of your existence.

When I was a young child, no matter how dark my life had been - and dark it was, way more than now ironically - I never felt it was too much. I refused to lose hope, and carried on, because no matter how painful it was, that pain was my only proof I was alive. Proof I existed. Even if I didn't like it, I preferred it over not being.

I though, as long as I was, I could be more, I could see more, I could learn more, I could create more. It gave me so much strength, so much power. Today, I wonder were this child has gone. Tonight, I want to be this child again.

Recently, I feared that maybe because I had no moment of peace throughout my life, I burned her all up? That this pain was her. All bruised up. Tired and crying. Telling me, I used to be stronger, I use to be smarter and braver. I used to be her. And I felt so much shame from letting her down.

But now I realize, that child had no other choice than being this way. I discarded that pain of not being able to rest, because I was simply surviving. But I never lived. I am master surviving. We all do. But growing up, I came to see that we all suck at living. Society doesn't teach us how. And doesn't allow us to. And it the adult me that needs to make that change. To teach my old self what life is.

Those tears, this rage, this cry, is this realization. The reason why I can't anymore, isn't because I run out, it is because I have to learn to go without the stress of disappearing and be no more. In reality, I don't have to prove my value to society, to any Gods, to my family and all the people that told me I wasn't enough.

I just have to be.

I just have to think: was I drawing because I want approval or because I had joy in it? Was I playing music because I was told it gave me worth or because it carried me? Was I writing because I want to show I was smart or because I want to give hope?

Am I breathing with my whole body because I am fighting off a disease, or simply because that is how naturally it goes?

And long as I am avoiding to answer to those questions, I won't budge from where I am.

There will always better days, they say. It is simply a bad moment that will pass, I heard. But the truth is, there won't be any better place to be if you stay immobile. As frustrating it is to write this. And as hopeless it may seem to be in that hole, the worst limit there can be is the one you put to your mind.

So be your own muse, be your own project, be your own music. Take a good breath... And make a step forward.

No matter where you are heading, even if it is in the dark, or in a scorching fire. It will always be better than standing still, not knowing where you could have reach and what you could have seen. There is no future to walk forward, if you don't move in your present.

As long as you can walk, there always be a ground to explore. And eventually, you will look back and realize, that road was worth taking. It may not make you reach any summit and force you leave behind places you loved and home you missed, but it still leads you somewhere.

I leads you to your life. The one you had, and the one ahead. With every pain and tears, with every laughter and despair. No road is made for you but the one you build, no path is waiting for you but the one you create. And no one can walk it for you.

No shame in standing still, no wrong is saying you are tired. No failing in voicing how hard it is and that you have reached your limit. You are allowed to take a breather, you are allow to say "nope, I am good here." As long as, it makes you happy.

Just make that yours. However, if you feel it is not your place, don't make this misery your home. Don't feel bad because you took the wrong turn. We all stumble. But we don't recover the same. So if you find a hand to help you up, grab it. If you need to crawl, use your nails. If tears comes up, let them run. If you need to step back, turn around. Every distance you can take, claim them as yours.

Every bit, every inch, fight for them, even if it painful. That bleed you losing is proof your heart beats, that scream you push is proof you have a voice, that sadness is proof you feel. Don't dismiss it, even if disturbs other. Allow them to be. Allow them out, allow them existence.

Until the bleed stops, until the scream turns into a humming, until the tears sooth out. Then you won't be crawling, you won't be fighting. You'll just be strolling. Peacefully. Feeling the wind, experiencing the rain, talking with passerby.

Breathing again like you were meant to be.

[jonathankatwhatever]

—————————-

I’m having no luck concentrating on logs.

—————————-

I’m staring at Taylor’s theorem and picturing it as D-structure, but I’m having trouble accepting what I see, like there’s a twisting just above the symbols that throws me off. If I isolate a term, it reads as a relation between the factorial of that D-level and what I have trouble putting into words because a polynomial of some degree like 3 or 5 can be drawn as some shape, typically a line, on a sheet but to me it represents dimensionality as well. I can’t fit these together, try as I might.

The reason I know is that this is y =, meaning we take the basic conception of I//I and the basic composition of f&b which defines the 1-0-1//0-1-0 relationship of existence as it constructs. This means we map y to this function, which means we map the Irreducible to the function because we are counting x. What I’d like to say is that this maps the dimensionality of n to the line drawn, meaning this is what y becomes with this function written in x. So, factorial is associative and thus it’s the map of (x-a)^k divided by the associative potential.

The part I can’t graps is the easiest: I have trouble visualizing the x-a to some power. I am absorbing it by going all the way to definitions of difference.

———————

I feel incredibly inadequate not knowing this, but I also realize I’m unable to accept basic rules because I am trying to figure out why they exist instead of how they need to be memorized and then applied. So to me, a log is the count from 1 to 2. The natural log is literally that, as explained, while the base 10 log is SBE3+1, which I think is my unavoidable contraction of the conception of (1+(SBE3)+1), which can be further expanded to (1+(SB3)+0) and its converse. I feel stupid for mentioning that, but I was reminded only a few days ago that cat litter bags open easily if you wet your fingers. I knew that. I’ve known that since childhood, but in a new context, of having an indoor cat, I didn’t think of it until I needed help opening a bag and was shown what I already knew. Can’t remember everything all the time. In the middle of their lives, people tend to think they remember more than what they do, by which I mean they think they’re more on the ball when they’re actually more specifically channeled or otherwise narrowed into the pathways of career and family. It’s only when that passes that they see a bit of what they did not think about, if they’re aware of their thoughts, which I think few are.

That’s one of the biggest problems: people aren’t aware of their thoughts so they don’t and can’t grasp why and how they’re illogical. They see answer or result or value a for f(x), and they don’t see how that comes out of a process which is bluntly dumb. Example: the Lancet publishes a ‘study’ which took reported deaths among UNRWA employees in Gaza as a proxy for larger civilian deaths. Ignore that they didn’t consider that some of these might in fact be Hamas fighters who also work for UNRWA, and instead note that the next month the figures suggested a completely different result. It’s not logical to print a study about one month’s findings. That’s obviously worthless. But it’s an output of a function that says whatever we can think of which demonizes Israel is good. They are likely unaware that function is running, meaning they likely think they are objective, perhaps a little heated but justifiably so.

The ability of people to rationalize is a consequence of gs construction. It’s also part of the essence of convergence. BTW, you have no idea how I’ve dreaded not having any decent thoughts, or rather not being able to think freely even when I have a decent thought, so the work dies within me. That’s a helluva thing.

You, any you, fits the pieces together to count to 2. I have no idea what I’m typing, but I’ll trust. A count from 1 to 2 is a labeling of the count of 1 to be 1 and not 0. That is, when we count 1 and 1, in some fashion, then we implicitly extend the counting down and up, back and front, in all the ways that we define difference. I’m trying to say our counting methods root all the way down at that level, and that makes clear that what we’re doing in our counting system is kosher. We are counting a D2 when we count 1 and 1. A D2 has certain implications. It constructs D4, which means a gs, because the flailing arms of that count which extends to 0, and thus from 1 to 0 and 0 to 1, achieve an orientation in which the D2 draws the hypotenuse of a gs, which makes Triangular over gs because that reads as 1Space, meaning equilateral triangles or bT’s, and as the 0Space hypotenuse of root2. This then makes the Bip because any is a flicker state to both orientations. So when the fD’s form, the gs forms as well.

What about gs formation? The standard is to add little hats. These exist when a bT forms and that translates into 0Space as the appropriate n-gon. I mean we can see a 1Space drawing of a gs with a little hat, and can imagine the hat being in any location, and that will translate and map to a pentagon because that drawing represents the formation af 5-sided regular object out of 4 and out of higher dimensions like 6. This is the same logic as the induction in the counting from 1 as 1 and 1, instead of counting from 0. This is that same inference over forms.

So, now I’m starting to see with much more clarity how the logarithm and the factorial generate and what they mean in gs construction. The factorial into a gs in the Taylor series maps that specific dimensional structure to that function expressed in linear projection. I can almost say that clearly. It plays in my head in concepts which work, so the words are close by.

I need to go to sleep.