#tales from the queue

[tales-from-syscord]

one time someone got mad at one of my alters and so they threatened that one of their alters would syshop to my headspace/innerworld and beat up my alter 😭😭😭

I'm gonna.. SYSHOP 👿 into your HEADSPACE 👿👿 and BEAT YOU UP!!! 👿👿👿 how DARE YOU!! DISAGREE WITH ME!! 👿👿

(this is satire.)

[tales-from-systok]

I once saw a video that claim that all the polyfrag systems in the app or in internet in general are fakers, but not because they thought that polyfragmentation wasn't real, no... It was because of the ineternet

This person was claiming "REAL polyfragmented systems are too busy trying to survive to be on internet, a real polyfrag system won't have time to be on internet, they're too busy surviving, so stop faking being polyfragmented because you're not, if you're on internet that means you're not that traumatized and aren't surviving the same thing as a REAL polyfrag system"

DUDE WTF WAS THAT CLAIM 💀??

HELP WHAT THE ABLEISM IS WILD WITH THAT ONE

[bluecheezes-moodboard-hoard]

Dabi moodboard (White hair version) 💙

EDIT, FORGOT TO TAG; Requested by @c4p1t4rv

[tales-from-sysblr]

not the endos telling us that "not all DID systems are traumagenic"........

it's a trauma disorder

wtf is wrong with these people

Endos are.. something alright.

[nevui-penim-miruvorrr]

I want to make another drawing of this scene for so long

This is from 2017

This one from 2016

And this from 2015

[intheholler]

hiiii, i will probably write out an actual love letter to appalachia as well, but here's a visual love letter dedicated to my holler ❤️

.

[bardic-tales]

Steel and Shadows - Biker AU - Chapter 1

Steel and Shadows Masterlist | Prev Chapter | Next Chapter

Summary: Bianca Moore, an author seeking inspiration in the underworld of Midgar, steps into Seventh Heaven for research, only to find herself entangled in a dangerous game of power and control with Sephiroth.

Pairing: Bianca Moore(f!OC) x Sephiroth

Possible Trigger Warnings: Alcohol consumption, cigarettes, criminal activity, dominance/submission dynamics, intimidation, mention of past trauma, power imbalance, psychological tension, smoking, toxic attraction, violence.

1.

Location: Midgar, the Planet

“This is the place,” she thought to herself, as she looked down at the paper again with several characteristics of the type of man she would be looking for, and, then, at the ramshackle bar with the extended, weathered pecan porch. Several burly men with bushy beards leaned against the railing, as their tight leather vests stretched across their broad chests and shoulders.

The low hum of emerald neon lights buzzed above Bianca Moore as she stood outside Seventh Heaven. Her fingers tightened around the strap of her her leather bag, as the cool leather caressed her fingertips. The bar sat nestled on the corner of a dimly lit street. Its worn wooden sign barely illuminated by the flickering glow of a streetlamp overhead, casting a soft glow over the concrete sidewalk and her delicate features.

To the untrained eye, this bar was just another hole-in-the-wall joint, but Bianca knew better. She opened her purse, placing the small sticky note deep within the pockets and shouldered the leather bag. This place was the meeting ground of Midgar’s most dangerous players: the place where men with gasoline in their veins and blood on their hands came to drink, deal, and dominate.

She took a deep breath, steadying the flutter in her chest. This was how it always started when she started a new project. This wasn’t fear. No, she never feared starting a new work: especially after a heartbreaking four year block after a serious breakup. This was not fear; it was anticipation and excitement.

“Bia, you don’t have to do this.” Cloud’s voice was rough and edged with irritation. She had twisted his arm for him to come with her, helping her experience this world of fast bikes and danger. He stood beside her with his arms crossed against his black knitted turtle-neck-covered chest. His blond spikes dulled by the dim light overhead.

He frowned. Cloud had been against this from the moment she brought it up two months ago, but he had learned long ago that the more he protested, the more Bianca was drawn to the allure of the risks. He had gotten out of that world, only for her to pull him back in.

“You worry too much,” Bianca teased. Her crimson-painted lips tilted aloft in a widening smile. At this moment, she really didn’t care what Cloud thought, as she was experiencing that high from pursuing a new story.

She looked away for a moment at the bikes lined up next to the sidewalk. Steel glimmered beneath the muted lighting, but there was one sports bike that stood out among the rest. It towered over the lesser vehicles.

The black metal glowed menacingly, dominating the smaller bikes.

The jagged chrome stripe on the bike’s full-fairing body reflected Bianca’s visage: her soft brown of her eyes and her long, wavy midnight tresses brushing against the soft slope of her neck and tumbling over her shoulders.

Bianca ran a hand through the locks, pushing several strands falling in front of her eyes off of her face while Cloud watched and frowned at her. “I don’t know why you’re so worried. It’s just research.”

“Remember Dimetri?”

Rolling her eyes, Bianca reached for the door handle. The brass handle felt moist to her touch, as she turned the knob and pushed the wooden door with black slats crossing it open.

2.

The air was thick with the scent of old whiskey and stale cigarette smoke, choking in its intensity and making her head swarm. The faintest hint of gasoline clinging to the leather-clad bodies that filled the bar. It was darker than she expected. The overhead lights dimmed so that the brightest glow came from the neon signs behind the bar. A jukebox in the corner crackled with a bluesy tune, barely audible over the low murmur of voices and the occasional clatter of pool balls.

Bianca adjusted her cream-colored coat, walking deeper into the room as Cloud trailed behind her like an irritated shadow. The patrons barely spared her a glance. At least, not at first. Men with broad shoulders and worn, black leather jackets hunched over drinks. Their conversations murmured in conspiratorial tones. Women were the first ones to noticed her, as they draped themselves over muscled arms, whispering in ears and exchanging lazy, painted, predatory smiles.

This was their world, and she was stepping into it like a trespasser. With her ruby-red polished nails, her black slacks, and a soft, warm sweater, Bianca felt as if she didn’t belong. She didn’t. This wasn’t her world where a warm espresso and cinnamon warmed her hands; this was a rough and tumble crowd where fights between burly men and women often broke out.

From behind the bar, Tifa glanced up. Her sharp red eyes narrowed slightly, hiding behind thick, dark eyelashes. She wasn’t unfriendly, per say. Her gaze bore into Bianca’s darker one as she swirled the inside of the whiskey glass with a white rag. She was just assessing. A protective energy clung to her like armor. Her other bartender’s towel slung over her left shoulder like a weapon.

“New face,” the other dark haired woman remarked. “You lost?”

“Not lost.” After Bianca slid onto a barstool, she crossed her slim legs and rested her arms against the counter. She had to play the part and observe. This was one of her favorite things as a novelist: the people watching. “Just curious.”

“Curiosity can be dangerous around here.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

Cloud groaned behind her, but, like she did when he mentioned Dimitri, Bianca ignored him. Instead, she glanced around, absorbing every detail and conversation. This was what she had come for: the raw, unfiltered energy of a world that existed in the shadows of the city, a muse for the work she hoped to complete before the summer’s end.

And then, she felt it: a shift, a ripple through the air, as if the very fabric of the bar had tightened around a single presence. She felt a presence staring at her.

As she turned her head to the side, she met a pair of cold, cyan, feline-like eyes. For a brief moment, she thought that the owner of the eyes was wearing contacts. Those eyes couldn’t have been real, but they were.

He sat in the back corner of the bar, at a table that was obviously too small for him. His knees bumped together under the table, as smoke circled around his head. His presence was somehow sharper and more defined than anyone else in the room.

This man didn’t lounge like the others. No. He commanded the space around him. Long, silver hair cascaded over the shoulders of his midnight, black leather coat. With every movement, the dim lighting from the overhead metal lamps cast a glossy sheen over him. His long and elegant fingers lightly on a crystal glass filled with amber-colored liquor, though the man hadn’t taken a sip.

He was watching her. A shiver ghosted down Bianca’s spine: not from fear but from something far more intoxicating. It was something that she never felt before, something far more than fear. Interest.

“You don’t belong here.” His voice was quiet — almost a whisper — but it cut through the background noise with lethal precision. This man was used to be in control. It screamed from the way he commanded her attention.

She tilted her head, meeting his gaze without question. ���So, I’ve been told.”

He exhaled a slow breath. For the briefest second, she could read the amusement — the subtle corner of his lips flicking up in an almost smile — but it was gone, slipping beneath his unreadable mask. The man sat back in his seat, tapping his finger against the rim of his glass. “If you’re looking for danger, you’re found it.”

Bianca arched a slender, well-sculpted brow. “Who are you?”

“Sephiroth, and I know who you are, Miss Author. Bianca Moore, the woman who makes a career of selling cheap, dime-store romances.” His lips curved upward now into a knowing smirk. “You’re biting off more than you can chew here.”

“That sounds an awful lot like a warning.”

“It is.”

Tifa shot Bianca a sharp, warning glance, her deep red eyes flashing with a silent plea for restraint. Her lips pressed into a firm line as she subtly shook her head. Strands of her dark hair, loosely framing Tifa’s face, swayed slightly as she shifted her weight. The dim, amber glow of the bar lights caught the faint sheen of sweat on her brow.

This was the look of someone who had seen tempers flare too many times before. It was a silent but urgent command not to test the boundaries of the man before them. Bianca understood immediately— whatever fire she was playing with— Tifa was urging her to step back before it burned her.

However, Bianca had never been the type of woman who backed down from a challenge: especially when it concerned her research for a new manuscript, especially after such a long creative block.

“I think I can handle handle myself.” She could feel Cloud leering behind her, urging her to not engage with Sephiroth.

Once more, his lips curled at the edges. It wasn’t quite a smile. It was a little too wide and a little too bright: almost like he was a predator who was watching prey wander too close, only a second before his jaws would snap shut.

“Is that so?” he mused.

“I don’t scare easily.”

A heavy silence stretched between them, charging with something electric beneath. Around them, the bar carried on as usual: obvious to the game that was being played by this man and herself. Except for Cloud. Cloud had gone rigid beside her. His entire body wound tight like a coiled spring ready to snap at the slightest provocation, but Bianca barely noticed.

She was drowning in those inhumane green eyes, the kind of color that belong to the ocean and venomous things. They were reminiscent of a panther, and that was what he was was, as he studied and watched her every move. He shifted shifted slightly, mirroring her own head tilt.

“You’re not here for the drinks,” he said. “You’re watching. Studying.”

Her fingers curled against the bar. This man was too preceptive for her own good. He could see through her bravado to the depths of her soul and motivations. Sephiroth wasn’t a normal man. That much was sure. “I’m a writer. I like to get things right.”

His eyes darkened. The shadows shifting in their depths like a brewing storm. Something unreadable passed through them: calculated, dangerous, and assessing. The weight of his gaze made the air between them heavy and thick with unspoken tension.

“And what are you trying to get right?” There was a slight edge to his words.

She hesitated, sending that whatever answer she would give him he would dissect it and turn it over in his mind like a predator toying with its prey before the bite to the windpipe. “Power. Control.”

He let out a mirthless chuckle: so quiet and empty of real amusement. “And you thought a bar filled with actual criminals was a good place to start?”

As she refused to let him see the way his presence was a bit unnerving, she shrugged. “They say the best best stories come from the most dangerous places.”

His bright gaze flickered downward, dragging over her slowly. It wasn’t a lecherous or dismissive look. No, he was reading her the way one might study a map before a battle, searching for weak points and deciding how much of a threat she posed to him and his world. If any at all.

“You don’t know what you’re playing with,” he said after a moment. His voice was quieter now, almost thoughtful, and almost lost in the din from the other bikers. “Men like me don’t make good characters in fairytales.”

Bianca bit her inner cheek, as she often did when she was nervous or excited. “Who said I’m writing a fairytale?”

Something shifted in him, subtle but noticeable to her. He lifted his glass and took a slow sip, before he sat the empty glass on the wooden counter-top. Then, without a word, he stood.

He was taller than she expected: taller than anyone in the room, actually. He easily was over six foot five inches. And his presence now? It was an overwhelming force of nature up close. The raw power of his movements was precise, honed, and restrained like a lion gazing at an antelope, knowing that it didn’t need to rush the kill.

When he stepped forward, she realized she held her breath, waiting for his next words.

He leaned in close, close enough that she caught the faintest scent of gasoline on his skin and a heavy cologne that made her head swim. “Stay out of my world, Miss Author.”

Bianca’s pulse hammered at the base of her throat. Her body screamed at her to react: fight, flee, or stay frozen with him so close to her. She did none of that. Turning her head, she met his gaze, even as her instincts warned her she was standing at the edge of something she didn’t understand or control.

But, then, as quickly as he had closed the distance, he stood back, turned, and walked away. The moment he left, the tension in the air snapped like a stretched wire finally breaking, leaving her breathless in the aftermath.

Tifa let out a slow breath, shaking her head. “I’d listen to him if I were you.”

Cloud, who had been silent the entire time, muttered under his breath. “This was a bad idea, Bia.”

Maybe, it was. She stared as Sephiroth opened the bar door and light filtered in the hazy room from outside. She savored the thrill of the encounter, as Cloud’s words echoed in her head. Bad ideas always made for the best stories, and now that she found the inspiration for her novel’s love interest, she couldn’t resist.

@themaradwrites @craftyhal @megandaisy9 @watermeezer

@prehistoric-creatures @creativechaosqueen @chickensarentcheap

@inkandimpressions @arrthurpendragon

@projecthypocrisy (since you're as excited as I am with this AU lol)

[stripeixii]

I have this thing

In my head

That's so hard to explain

So I'm kindly providing concept sketches in hopes someone talks to me about it

[k8felge]

i remembered my love for blands again </3

[gas-station-chai]

My personal gas station playlist makes me laugh bc it's supposed to be all the music that makes me think about tftgs but I'm so obsessed with it that I just associate every song with those gas station freaks

[lemonduckisnowawake]

You know? Why aren't their isekais where people just keep getting transmigrated into the same world but like...after everyone's story? Like oh, standard girl body hijacks some villainess of a trashy romantasy webnovel. But then, a girl who is reading that story gets isekaid into another character and that changes things. But someone is reading this double transmigration and then afterwards also gets isekaid into one of the characters. And it keeps going in this isekaiception fashion where sides and NPCs are all transmigrators now and the ending implies that you're next.

[tales-from-syscord]

we gotten fakeclaimed by non-systems for “alters having disorders the entire system doesn’t have” bc someone said they were an autism & ocd holder 😭😭 like just cuz theyre a HOLDER doesnt mean theyre the only one with the disorder

They do know symptom holders exist....right?

Important thing to have said: an alter cannot have a disorder the system as a whole has HOWEVER some can have symptoms relating to disorders without everyone having it (an alter having no empathy despite the rest of the system having it) and not everyone will be affected by everything someone else is (i.e. an alter can be an autism symptom holder while for another they are not really affected)

[tales-from-systok]

there was one girl who posted a video claiming to have "definitive proof that all these young people who claim to have DID are faking". The proof in question? An article found on Google (she didn't even showed it, she just read it outloud) that said "DID only manifests when a person's in their 30s-40s"

Sorry guys.. no more systemhood for you. /satire

[writesailingdreams]

I’ll probably never not get into a brain tizzy over Disney’s claim that their Sleeping Beauty is based on Perrault’s “la belle dormant.”

I suppose it’s similar in some regards — it has a “Christening” of sorts and fairies (even if earlier Grimm drafts did too). The fairies put everyone to sleep after the curse takes effect. (Everyone falls asleep in Grimm too; both take time to describe the frozen and silly tableau of sleeping people and animals.)

But where Disney’s deviates from Perrault — 100 yr sleep vs a few hours; waking up when the prince kneels by her bed vs waking up when the prince kisses her (Grimm); ogress mother-in-law vs happy ending right after kiss (Grimm). So...

Celebrating birth = Perrault

Fairies = Perrault (& early Grimm)

Up a tower & spindle (Grimm)

Fairies put everyone to sleep (Perrault)

Deadly looking briars (Grimm)

Awaken by a kiss (Grimm)

Ends soon after (Grimm)

What I think bugs me is that the parts that match Perrault are in Grimm too. In earlier drafts, the Grimms had fairies too, I believe.

Key defining feature of Perrault’s version:

Christening

Fairies

100 yr sleep

Prince kneels -> awakes

Ogress mother-in-law

Key defining features of the Grimms' version:

Frog

Spindle on the top of a tower

Briars of death (impaled princes 👍 love the imagery)

Kiss -> awakes

Both include:

An entire castle asleep

[tales-from-sysblr]

posted a thing about a group of endos being ableist (not even blaming all endos, just pointing out the weirdness)

and some endo came into my replies trauma dumping saying its MY personal fault their friend tried to kts (never seen this person in my life and try my best not to int with endos. and if i do its never in a weird way. occasionally in an ACTUAL* debate way, but never in a dumb rude way. dont fuck with that shit. and the rest of the sys doesn't post abt sys shit at all. whenever we see an endo we just fucking block so we don't accidentally interact)

but apparently its OUR fault their friend tried to kts because apparently anti endos were mean to them or sum and they kept saying random shit as instead of anything of actual substance or on topic to my post.

i am an alter with VERY low empathy. couldnt bring myself to get guilt tripped by some rando who obviously has no regard for others and just puts triggering shit into random replies instead of saying anything with substance.

so note to any endos reading: trauma dumping onto random people isn't a valid argument. get debate lessons please i beg of you. i would respect someone who actually tries to come onto my post to have a convo, but never someone who does weird shit.

.

[pfps-from-venus]

Seras Victoria pfps!

1. (https://pin.it/5TOkpYpiW)

2. (https://pin.it/mV5QX6a6X)

3. (https://pin.it/32J1en513)

4. (https://pin.it/25O9bFkPq)