#and just try to Here – like 'in my body' ( the dissociation has been so real buddies i'm ngl )

[mindsmade]

the data science stuff i'm working on doesn't even rlly have anything to do with what v gets up to but it's making me ride the v brainwave even harder rn so icon change to feature half of his face at least 🩶

#ooc. #also i am Sorry for how quiet i've been; #i've been goin through it tbh fjsdkfj. the past half year's worth of anxiety etc. has caught up to me and some work stuff has rlly #kicked my ass mentally so atp i'm just kinda doing what i can to keep myself afloat #which unfortunately doesn't leave me w a lot of energy to socialise / a lot of ??? gusto to chitchat if it's not abt a v select few topics #anyway i'm alive and kickin and italy at least has been LOVELY so far so i'm going on walks to enjoy my surroundings #and just try to Here – like 'in my body' ( the dissociation has been so real buddies i'm ngl ) #i adore u guys and i'll be back to my more chatty self once i feel a bit better / have an idea of what my work future will look like 🫶🏼 #tag rant // #mental health // #dissociation //

[goosita]

attending a gala with young!politician!snow is both more and less terrifying than you’d imagined

he’d picked you up at 7pm on the dot, waiting outside of his car for you. coriolanus was dressed in all black, a departure from his usual red color palette. the moment you’d stepped outside to meet him in the dress and shoes (as well as necklace) he bought you, he’d smiled charmingly at you and offered his hand.

“you look absolutely enchanting, miss y/n,” he breathed, tone full of sincerity. you could feel your cheeks blaze at his compliment, giving a timid grin.

“thank you, coryo.”

coriolanus brightened even more, opening the back door of the car with his free hand and keeping you steady with the other as you slid in. he followed just after you, settling in beside you on the seat. now here you were, on the way to a big fancy party full of people who made more money in an hour than you did in a whole year.

“are you nervous?” he asks, glancing at you.

“absolutely terrified,” you admit with a soft laugh. “i’ve never been to anything like this. i don’t want to do or say the wrong thing.”

“you’ll be fine, i promise. just follow my lead, and it’ll be over before you know it.”

you nod, but still can’t force down all of your nerves. aside from this whole event being unfamiliar to you, you’re still jittery and unsure with coriolanus. he’s been so hard to read lately. you’re not sure if he’s just toying with you, but it feels too bold to think that perhaps he has a real interest in you either. too indulgent of your daydreams, your fantasies. you can’t seem to stop the fluttery drumming of your fingers against your thigh, until coriolanus is taking your hand and sliding his fingers between yours to stop their incessant tapping. your gaze snaps up to look at him, surprised by the touch.

“everything’s going to be okay. trust me,” he says gently, giving your hand a soft squeeze. for someone who’s last name is snow, his hands are so warm. his thumb brushes over your knuckles soothingly, looking down at you with a calm expression, and you nod. you do trust him. he adds, “i’ll be right beside you all evening.”

his promise makes you feel better, some of the tension leaving your body at both his words and his soothing touch. you glance down at your interlocked hands, his so much bigger than your own. his fingers are so long, pale and beautiful as if they were carved from marble. the veins along the top stand out, raised little rivers of blue that crawl up into his sleeve. his silver watch band rests against the delicate skin of both of your inner wrists.

once you arrive, it feels like a whirlwind of colors and lights and sounds. you find yourself dissociating from most of it, from the moment coriolanus leads you inside with a hand at the small of your back. you try to focus on the way his cologne catches your nose when he turns or moves, the familiar scent helping to ground you. the event passes in a flurry of coriolanus’s voice chatting pleasantly with Very Important Men, fond introductions of you at his side by your name and never your job title, being handed flutes of posca that you only sip on here and there. your date, however, seems to have no trouble at all socializing and sharing drinks with these people.

he’s a natural people-person. coriolanus charms and wins over just about every person he speaks to. the men respect him and listen to what he has to say, while the women giggle and let their eyes wander his face and body. you don’t like that the latter bothers you enough to sling back an entire flute of posca at one point while some district 8 office holder’s wife practically undresses coriolanus with her eyes. if he notices the female attention at all, he doesn’t show it. coriolanus simply keeps one hand planted firmly along your spine, occasionally stroking the exposed skin there softly.

finally, finally, the night comes to an end. coriolanus is loose from the bubbly drinks he’s had, making him a bit more smiley than you’re really used to. his cheeks are flushed a pretty pink that spreads over the bridge of his nose and makes him glow.

“did you have fun, darling?” he asks as he gets into the car with you. while he waits for an answer, he fumbles until he finds the button that raises the privacy screen between you two and the driver.

“fun is…certainly a word,” you offer, unable to stop your grin. coriolanus seems younger like this, spine less rigid and jaw less tense. he looks his age right now, you realize.

“hm. yes, well, i don’t have much real fun these days,” he laments, undoing his tie and shrugging off his suit jacket. “especially not with a beautiful lady on my arm.”

he glances sideways at you as he says it, sly smirk making his smile line in his cheek stand out. you resist the urge to reach out and touch it, instead looking down at your hands in your lap. you never know what exactly to say when coriolanus says things like that. you’re not sure if he’s being sincere, or if it’s just meaningless flirting to him.

he says your name softly when you avert your eyes, gingerly lifting your chin. “look at me, darling,” he whispers. he’s turned his body to face you fully now. his eyes search your face for a long moment before they trail down, landing on the snowflake pendant resting between your collarbones. his finger trails a path down your throat before tracing around the charm.

“it suits you,” he murmurs. the air in the car is suddenly so very warm, electric with the energy between the two of you. he’s so close to you, you wonder if he can hear your heart racing right now. if he knows its because of him.

“coryo,” you exhale, breath trembling slightly. you feel his touch again against your cheek, cradling it softly in his palm. his eyes seem to almost glow in the low light, the streetlights you pass making them appear almost translucent when they reflect off his irises. you both lean in simultaneously, eyes fluttering closed.

the first brush of coriolanus’s lips is soft, curious even. as if he’s giving you the chance to push him away. instead, you sigh and melt into him. his free hand comes to rest on your waist, squeezing softly as he kisses you more firmly when you don’t pull away. his mouth is plush and slick against your own, tasting like the sugary posca he’d drank.

you lose yourself to his kisses, slow and languid and indulgent, making you dizzy with how good it feels. coriolanus slides his hand down from your waist to your hip, then further down to tease at the slit in your dress that splits over your thigh. his teeth nip at your lip playfully, and he smiles against your mouth when you gasp at the way his fingers curl behind your knee to hitch your leg up over his own.

he encourages you to move so you can straddle him, sitting pretty in your silky dress on his lap. your hands land on his broad shoulders while his lips parts from yours, pressing hot, open-mouth kisses along your neck. his tongue drags along the side of your throat, making you shiver and moan softly.

“there’s a good girl,” he mutters, hands smoothing up and down your thighs that splay over his. “you make such pretty sounds for me.”

coriolanus’s words make you feel lightheaded, paired with his wandering touch and exploratory kisses. you shift in his lap just slightly, gasping softly when you feel how hard he is beneath you. his cock presses into the apex of your thighs, his hips pushing up subtly. he lets out a quiet groan, the hottest sound you’ve ever heard. the uncontrolled noise spurs you on, gives you the nerve to cup his jaw and bring his mouth back to yours and demand more of his heated kisses.

“stay with me tonight, my darling,” he pleads, panting against your mouth.

“yes.”

#ehehehe i PROMISE next part is when i’ll stop edging u guys and give u what we all want #i just love a slow build #its about the yearning 🤌🏻 #politician!coryo x secretary!reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #tbosbas #coriolanus snow smut #tom blyth

[copperbadge]

More on mindfulness and meditation

I feel like perhaps I came across as anti-meditation in that last post I did on it, and there were some folks who were a bit vocal about not liking meditation in the notes, but the notes also had some great and interesting discussion of what can count as mindfulness that isn't traditional meditation and what some alternatives might be, so I wanted to do a follow-up. Especially since I don't think I'm going to get to respond to everyone individually.

The post was not meant to be anti-meditation, but to express frustration with the way meditation frequently is, or rather fails to be, taught. I can understand why people would struggle with "mindfulness" (vastly overused term) and meditation, so I'm not here to argue with or shame anyone, and I really appreciate the alternative suggestions. But because mindfulness can mean so many things, and people can meditate for many different reasons, I wanted to talk a little about why I'm being asked to do it.

It's easy to lose track of why one might try meditation for mental health, because the cause and effect are so temporally dislocated from each other. I try to keep in mind that my specific goal is emotional regulation deriving from increased present-moment attention. Some of the stuff that was suggested is great for a goal other than this, like puzzle games that allow people to empty their racing minds or activity that brings someone back into their body when dissociating -- both extremely laudable functions! -- but that's not why I'm here. Meditation is meant, for me, to be a maintenance medication, not a rescue inhaler.

There is science that suggest that mindfulness practice, under a specific definition of the term, can help to manage emotional dysregulation, ameliorate Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria, and reduce depression and anxiety. I discuss the science in a slideshow here but essentially this specific form trains the attention into the present moment, which improves executive function -- and as we know, emotional regulation is a facet of executive function, so this leads to better emotional regulation.

There is not a lot of science on it yet so there is room here for yoursamplesizeissmall.jpg, but it's all we've got so I'm running with it. There is one foundational practice and three practices that build on it which effected this change in subjects of the study:

Breathing Meditation doesn't really confer any benefit the others don't, but the others all employ it as a basic practice. We know this can calm the parasympathetic nervous system, although to be honest I have not found that to be the case personally. As soon as I stop the deep breathing I'm right back where I was, likely because my issue is ruminational, not situational. But everything else wants you to breathe first, so I still have to do it.

Body Scan focuses attention on the body and as others have pointed out is good for people prone to dissociation. As I said in the other post, I live here; paying extra attention to my body isn't something I need. I was asked to try it anyway as part of a practice in keeping an open mind about stuff I think is dumb, and clearly I do need practice in that. Still, it's likely I'll be able to let this one go pretty soon.

Loving-Kindness asks you to think positively about others, expanding compassion from a single point outward to the world. I've encountered this before in reading Pema Chodron; I don't do it as meditation, but I do try to practice it in life because I am not naturally a patient or compassionate person, and that has been helpful in the sense that it keeps me from getting punched in the face a bunch. For me there's no real "train the attention to be in the present" aspect on account of that, however.

Observing-Thought is where you just sit with your thoughts, let them arise, sometimes label them in some way, and let them go. I was most interested in this purely because it's the only one I hadn't already encountered. I haven't found it useful so far, but I don't have enough data about it to be definitive, and if it is training executive function I would expect that to take time.

Now, I know that all four of these have science backing them, so I know that we're not just dealing in new-age woo here. The problem is functional, not theoretical. The issue overall is not "meditation is boring" -> "find a way to make it interesting", although I do appreciate that it may be an issue for others and I like that people were offering solutions. The issue for me is that the boredom derives from the fact that the meditation isn't being taught. There's no progressional learning -- there's no step-progress-reward-step-progress-reward like with most difficult skills.

Any task is boring if you aren't deriving any reward from it or you are being expected to execute it without skills or training, and in this case I'm facing down both. Long silences from a meditation leader are fine if you're there to engage with a practice you already have familiarity with, but if you're trying to learn, they are the opposite of helpful, and they are actively punishing to someone with ADHD.

I don't want to be entertained (I mean, generally I do, but in this case I don't expect it). What I want is a pedagogical approach that steps up to the practice rather than beginning with it, so that I know I'm doing it right, I experience rewards along the way similar to how I currently do learning Italian, and I have more confidence that what seems dull and fruitless actually will produce results.

Uh, so yeah thanks for coming to my TEDtalk; the fact that a practice that's especially hard for people with ADHD helps with almost every problem ADHD presents really sucks, and I wish we approached teaching meditation as if it were something you actually did have to learn rather than something you're supposed to Do Until You Get It. In the meantime I guess bumping the speed on the recording isn't the worst thing I could be doing.

#sam has adhd #not yet fired from therapy #mindfulness

[dokidokitsuna]

what do you think of my endless 8 "ending idea" idk if you saw it in the tags so I will put it here

and what if they do clear it? Order has proven to always up keep their word. So they would no doubt free 8.

I see one of two things happening. The "good" outcome: 8 fights order at the top of the spiral and defeats them this time, maybe even having to fight her mindless friends but she still prevails. Everyone is saved, the world is no longer run by mindless slaves, and everyone goes back to normal.... but 8 will forever bear the mental scars of fighting, for months maybe even years, through a un-comprehendible landscape, knowing that she is truly alone stuck in a seemingly endless purgatory. Being ripped to shreds by things she doesn't understand and being sent back to the bottom again. If 8 is even sane at this point would be questionable.

The even worse one: 8 is free but order doesn't give her the chance to fight them. She is sent to live her days in the real world, surrounded by aimless beings who only exist to do and never think. No one to talk to, no one to play turf with, just 8 surrounded by the consequences of her failure. Either forced to die alone or slowly go insane.

Oh, I remember this! And I really liked your ideas, because they were so much more interesting than mine... Back when I said 8 would be "freed", my idea was that Order would finally erase whatever was left of their free will and let them into the Memverse-- essentially, they'd just be rewarded with the sweet release of death. ^^;

But I think your ideas are much more thematically painful, in that 8 spends years in the Spire alone, and after their long fight; they're rewarded with yet another flavor of loneliness. Either they spend the rest of their days surrounded by walking corpses, or they emerge victorious in a healed world that quickly returns to the status quo...yet they end up left behind. Still bearing the scars of a torturous experience that no one can fully understand or sympathize with...

Obviously, the "good" outcome is my personal favorite; if I were to write a fanfiction about one of these ideas, that's the one I'd pick. ^^ I just think having a living world around to interact with provides more opportunities to show off the damage that was done to Agent 8's mental state, in clear juxtaposition.

I think they'd struggle most with dissociation; having grown used to living in their own mind in a desperate effort to escape the crushing isolation of the Spire. They'd also have been trained out of the ability to trust their own senses and perception: they'd always be on edge, waiting for the laws of physics to invert, or perceiving any unexpected stimulus as a sign that they're about to die; they're about to fail again; they're gonna get sent back to 1F AGAIN-- ...They might even have trouble just moving around and interacting with physical objects, after spending so long in a virtual body that never worked quite like their real one. Lots of interesting issues to explore, and for their friends to try to help with~

#endless8

[lucigoo]

I'm real, I'm here. Open your eyes and see.

#249 - Open your eyes, prompt from @flashfictionfridayofficial

Pairing -Sirius/Remus

Warnings - Disosociation, PTSD

Words - 871

Summary - Remus often dreams about Sirius and it makes him reluctant ot open his eye to the nothing he knows he will find when he does. But will he? Has he really lost everything? Read on AO3 here

Remus was having a wonderful dream. The last 17 years hadn’t happened. Like he hadn’t spent most of it alone. Hadn’t lost the love of his life twice, hadn’t accidentally knocker d up his best friend and lost her, hadn’t had to deal with all the bullshit that came with being a werewolf and a war hero.

No, in his head, Remus got to pretend he was cuddled up in bed with his husband. He got to pretend he was happy.

Remus always hated the early mornings when waking up was confusing, and his life and memories muddled up. He ran his hand over the other side of the bed, knowing it would be empty and cold. It had been for a long time.

Laying there, eyes closed, trying to shut his emotions off, trying to forget everything, how his heart wished for more.

“If you open your eyes Moony, you will get more,” a soft voice said. A voice from his memories, a voice from his dreams. A voice his unconscious mind had obviously summoned to torment him more.

“Is it one of those mornings, love?” the voice asked softly.

Remus couldn’t help but frown. The voice didn’t usually go on tangents. His dreams of Sirius were muddled up with memories, but they didn’t react the way they should, the way the real Sirius would have.

Remus felt himself give a full body shiver when he felt a hand in his. H e knew that hand, he knew every wrinkle and callous, the shape of the knuckles and the way the log, graceful piano playing fingers fit into his. He knew that hand and it felt thing like dream Sirius’ hand.

“That’s right my Moonbeam. Open your eyes for me,” Sirius’ voice said.

Remus wasn’t sir of he wanted to or not. Dream Sirius sounded very much like a concerned real Sirius would ad Remus was terrified if he opened his eyes, he would lose him again. He was always losing him in his nightmares. Again and again and again, and Remus wasn’t sure if he could deal with it once again.

“Oh love. It’s ok. I’m real, I’m here. I came back, remember? I always come back to you Moonshine.” Sirius’ voice said sadly. “just open your eyes Moony, the boys will come bother us soon if we aren’t at breakfast. You know how Harry gets. And Teddy.”

That made Remus’ breath catch in his throat. Dream Sirius didn’t know about Teddy because Sirius had never known about Teddy. Remus had never been sure how Sirius would react to the lad and his subconscious reflected this by not allowing Dream Sirius to know about him.

If Sirius knew about Teddy then Sirius......

Remus reluctantly opened his eyes, prepared for nothing. But there, sitting beside him, hair loose and messy, a soft smile on his face, was Sirius. “Siri,” he breathed out in wonder.

“Hey darling. It’s nice to see those beautiful eyes open. Rough morning,” Sirius said as he softly raised Remus’ hand to kiss the back of it.

“I thought...” he trailed off again.

“I know, love. It’s not the first time. It won’t be the last. We deal with dissociative shit in this household on a regular basis, after all. I still can’t believe harry was going to join the aurors. Kingsley must be batshit. The boy can barely cast an expeliarmus at the minute," Sirius said sadly.

“Sirius,” Remus said in wonder as he launched himself forward, grabbing Sirius and pulling him closer. He buried his head under Sirius’s chin and allowed Sirius to hold him tight, to reassure Remus that he was there, that it was Sirius heartbeat he could hear as he was pressed to him as tightly as possible.

Remus was back in a light doze, surrounded by nothing but Sirius, when he heard the door open.

“We figured it wasn’t the best morning when you didn’t come down, so what did we do Tedster?” Remus heard Harry ask.

“We made da bekfst, bekfust papa,” a soft, sweet, angelic voice said.

Remus opened his eyes and sat up properly, not letting go of Sirius’ hand. He saw their boys in the doorway. Harry looking sheepish at having interrupted and Teddy looking over, excited after having helped Harry make them breakfast.

Remus felt the tears of gratitude sliding down his cheeks.

Teddy noticed too and ran forward and peppered Remus’ face with kisses after Harry helped him clamber on the bed. “Da, you sad?” the 2-year-old asked.

Remus looked down at his baby and smiled. He grabbed Harry’s hand and pulled him close too. “No, baby. Da’s happy. Da is right here with you all, our family. Why wouldn’t I be happy?” he asked Teddy softly.

Teddy beamed at the answer and started jabbering on about how he made the breakfast with Harry’s help. Sirius barked in laughter and Harry smiled happily at the family they had clawed and glued back together after Voldemort's defeat and Sirius’ return from the veil.

Remus’ life had felt like it had ended when he was 20 and now at 40 it had started again. He got to be happy. He deserved to be happy. They all did.

#fff249 #Open your eyes #Wolfstar #FlashFictionFriday #PTSD #but also all th efluff

[ask-me-about-therapy]

A Mind's-Eye View

Dear Diary,

Well, it's been yet another one of those delightfully disjointed days where reality decided to take a cappuccino break without me. I swear, one of these days I'll find the negligent barista who keeps unplugging my perspective from consensus reality and put them on a strict drip of decaf.

It all started this morning when I was brushing my teeth, gazing lazily into the mirror's reflection. Suddenly, something seemed…off. Like my face belonged to a vaguely familiar, but distinctly different person entirely. I quirked an eyebrow in that signature way I do and…nothing. No reaction. My facial pantomime skills were being sorely upstaged by an utterly indifferent spectator staring back through the looking glass.

At that point, I figured I must still be aimlessly somnambulating through the gauzy realm of dreamland. So I employed my trusty reality testing checklist: Pinch skin? Check - Felt that sting. Ask Alexa something only I would know? Check - My haunted virtual spirit guide confirmed my deepest persona non grata status. Okay, I was regrettably among the waking world, just…disconnected from the main stage somehow.

By lunchtime, my mind had taken its metaphysical troubeshow on a roving tour. One moment I was chopping veggies, the next my subconscious had astral projected me into observing some stranger's culinary chopping ennui from the foreground. A real out-of-jaw experience, let me tell you. When you're not all there, might as well make like aeball and split, am I right?

At least tonight's dissociative detour came with the upside of some much-needed psychic numbing while navigating my apartment's chaotic blackhole of entropy. Sifting through towers of sentient Point Dexter piled high and aimlessly pondering what plane of existence that shirt-turned-demi-lifeform may have originated from? Just another multidimensional mind shift for the folk over here.

But I've learned not to fight these fugue state fugitives too hard. Like a resigned ballet dancer, I just try to relax into the disassociated flow, appreciating it as a whimsical reprieve from the grounding of unified selfhood. A mental siesta of split perspectives, if you will. Though I could do without the stubborn psychological lMonoglorian rattling to rejoin the singular mind numberland.

In any case, I've accepted these are just more curious tracks on the winding album that is my deliciously dissociated life experience. Vintage vinyl episodes to savor and chuckle over before the next round of out-of-body riffing begins anew. At least my mindstream has some solid Spotify quality, diary! Who needs monotonous cohesion when you can masterfully shuffle between myriad headspace remixes at any given moment? Your pal has frontrow seating for an experimental existential concert, and I wouldn't want it any other way.

#dissociative system #dissociative identity disorder #actually dissociative #dissociative disorder #dissociation #did disorder #actually osdd #did system #osdd system #did osdd #did alter #did positivity #did community #did #actually did #dissociative alters #osdd alter #alters #alter #osdd 1a #osddid #osdd memes #osdd #osdd 1b

[protectingtulpas]

@unearthed-27 Heyoo! Thanks for being my first person to ask questions!! To get this outta the way first, P-DID stands for Partial Dissociative Identity Disorder and is present in the EU-wide ICD, not the American-only DSM. I'll spare u diagnostic criteria but essentially our host can't completely leave front, so our switches would only b medically recognized as "partial". Still got basically every other DID symptom full force tho- when we started out and I first came around, neither of us had any idea, but my presence eventually got us unlocking people we didn't know were there at all. Wild!

As for your other questions, there're tons'a reasons. I didn't choose to become a tulpa any more than you chose to be born, it's kinda my species and I'm happy I exist. Freedom and agency has always been the name of my game and I'm eager to spread that around. ✨ Why make a tulpa, though? That's just about as hard to answer as why someone might want like, a kid or a dedicated partner, without that person sounding selfish to the outside if u take out the social convention of it. The biggest reason is companionship - a tulpa is someone alongside ya no matter what, a friend to grow and change with, someone you can always count on to go to. Treat your tulpa right and you've got a free friend for the rest of your life! Obviously it won't be sunshine and rainbows ALL the time, but any healthy relationship has some bickering, and being perfect all the time is creepy anyways lol

My host made me to try and help enhance their outerworld life, kick their ass essentially so that we'd go out and do more, live more. AKA I'd get to do what I want, and they'd get to live a little for once, doing things they were too chicken to or ignored before. Turns out the body is WAY more disabled than we thought, souuuhhhh we've had to readjust those plans, but my point still stands. Companionship and to improve your own mental health- which studies and personal experiences show tulpamancy does in droves- are the two biggest reasons someone might want one of us sharing your life! I've seen people say they made their tulpa to help with their anxiety, with their depression, with their isolation- hell, I've seen a crazy amount of tulpas say they've saved their hosts' lives before. Even just the thought of "I can't go when that'd mean taking my tulpa/system with me" stops my own host from going anywhere near those kindsa thoughts.

We're a decision a new host hasta think about for a while, especially if you're a singlet- are you ready to share your life with one of us? Are you ready for us to grow and change outside of your control? Are you ready to treat us like real people? But there're lots of people whose lives have been changed for the better forever by deciding to start. It's not for everyone, but hey, it's good to decide for yourself, yaknow?

thx again for the question! Ik I'm harsh but these kinda questions are what I want here ✌️

#plural system #tulpamancy #tulpamancy info #P-DID #PDID #newbie Qs #pluralgang #tulpa #endo safe #pro tulpa #tulpa safe #my experiences

[theclosetedskeleton]

tell me about the self-ish characters pleas😞i do not care how long the post is /nf

GRAJ ALRIGHTY

gotta mentally think about what im gonna say uhhh

SELF- + -ISH

Okay so I imagine them to have been these twins who got,, fused together? something like that. Occasionally one or the other will take control or whatever of the fused body, and that's usually able to be told by the colors that they wear and slight difference in appearance. Both of them wish to be "themselves again", however there isn't really a way for them to be that again. They are the only character that I DONT have a design OR a name/names for, so I'm just gonna refer to each side as their song counterparts. Self- is calm, quiet and more so the emotional one of the two. -Ish is arrogant, worrisome and quick to jump to conclusions. I haven't thought abt separate identities for the two, although (both of) their pronouns are they/them.

2012

okay i actually have a name for this oc so i gotta dig up my sketchbook rq

OKAY BACK

(STOP WHY DO THE PROPORTIONS LOOK LIKE TAHT )

2012's real name is Morana. She's a Theorist, mainly trying to solve some of the wackiest mysteries that the universe she lives in has to offer, but mainly her own. Morana is struck with some sort of unknown illness, one that progressively gets worse. She doesn't remember how she got it, but she remembers when (guys this is gonna be a really hard one to answer,,, hmmmmmmm

she got the illness around 2012).

Her eyes appear abnormally, looking like black doll eyes. Many colorful cracks form on her skin eventually breaking to reveal her inner body. Its the worst on her face, with her having to cover it with a machine that allows her to see that kind of looks like a VR headset. The cracks and abnormalities will eventually lead to her death, and that's what Morana's trying to theorize about. She thinks that if nobody will know how she'll die, she'll figure it out herself before the time comes.

Bit of personality here -- Morana is a Talkative person, yet tends to be an anxious + nervous person. However, along with the Anxiety, she's driven by that (one of those people that are motivated BY anxiety). She's nonbinary, Bi, demisexual, and her pronouns are She/Her.

Cotards solution

Think abt that one friend in the friend group that's off the rails/pos

Loud, dramatic and forgetful a lot of the times, Cotards solution is yet a character shrouded with mystery. Resurrected by unknown forces, a man unknown by, well, everyone enters the scene. Cotards doesn't have a name (not bc I didn't think of one shhhh), mainly because nobody can put a name to the rotting face. He knows and believes he's dead, yet many people don't believe he is. He feels as if the body he has will be at peace if he's dead, because he already is, but everyone will believe he died just for the cause of it.

His body is translucent, and what shows underneath his skin are just his bones. Thats mainly because hes mainly a skeleton with magical counterparts giving him another life (he still has many human features though). Cotards dissociates a lot and tends to stop talking mid-sentence.

Cotards has a third eye. It tends to disappear and reappear, not necessarily with or without a reason. He constantly wears these red three-framed glasses for his eyes. Im not quite sure what else to add uhh. Cotards is gay and uses he/him pronouns.

Mr. Capgras

Mysterious, quiet, and a nervous wreck. Mr. Capgras, first name Victor, is probably the oldest of all of the SELF-iSH characters. Formerly an engineer, Victor struggles with visions and illusions of the sense. Consistently seeing ghosts and hearing voices, not to mention the everlasting fear of everyone being not who they say they are and that they're out to get him !? jesus christ,. someone go get him therapy NOW speaking emoji fire emoji!!!!

He's very paranoid, and will avoid almost any social interaction because of this. He also has really bad trust issues, not mainly bc of his fears, but also because once he gained this strange illness and paranoia, everyone in his life left him. He also gets visions of the same people (the same people in question turn out to be the other SELF-iSH ocs).

He has these blemishes and scars on his skin that don't heal, With beady black eyes like Morana's/2012's. They don't share the same canon illness, however (none of them do, minus one character that ill get to). He is constantly wearing those like. floral designed suits. or just suits in general. idk what's up with that. He's Agender, Panromantic, Grey asexual and uses He/Him pronouns.

The song with 5 names

Your average guy. except uhh we cant have that here, its fused with 4 people (or, more specifically, their minds) . Their original name is Vincent, but is barely called by that name anymore. The four people in question are Morana, Cotards, Victor and the character of "Hand me my shovel, I'm going in!" .

Constantly on edge, hyper and shakes way too much. It changes personalities FAST, Mainly because of the 4 different (mind) fusions. Vincent tends to talk to himself a lot, mainly because it tries to send messages to the 4 of them.

I JUST ACCIDENTALLY DELETED A PARAGRAPH OH MY GOD

Their body is covered in cracks, holes, patterns and abnormalities of the like. Along with this, the abnormalities are never fluid, and are constantly changing. Little physical fact - Vincent had heterochromia, and now thats developed into a cracked beady eye and A completely blank white eye. Vincent uses He/it/they pronouns, and is aroace + genderfluid.

Hand me my shovel, I'm going In!

Burned out + tired character of the ocs. Dawn is a conspiracist/ theorist who tried to find someone that hasn't ever existed. She looks for the answers to a solution of a problem that hasn't even been thought of, yet wont be denied that the person doesn't exist. The person was the love of dawns life, and needs to find an answer as to where they went.

Dawn occasionally sees ghosts from time to time and also experiences hallucinations. One could speculate that the "love of her life" WAS a ghost, but the evidence isn't enough to prove it yet (oh my god making references to the original songs its so fun ANYWAYS).

I imagine Dawn and Morana to be like theorist buddies. what if plot twist the love of her life in question WAS Morana BEFORE the illness?? Except she didnt know Morana changed??? hmmmmm muhahah

Dawn constantly wears suits. Like. you could be going to the motherfucking grocery store and BOOM suit and tie. not the point. Dawn has multiple scars on her face and hands, due to physical injuries. She has dark heavy eyebags, and is pale as a ghost due to malnourishment. Her pronouns are She/her and is a demigirl + lesbian.

Dr. Sunshine (is dead)

by far my most worked on character probably. Dr. Sunshine, Also known as William sunshine (Yes this IS a reference to WW's old work), has been at and through many places at a time. Working with all sorts of magic, the "good" or the "bad" kind, or the things that feel like magic (uhhh drugs), He'll get his hands on. From working as a "doctor" to A ringmaster (I'd go into depth into that but that's a verbal equinox territory), hes done almost all of it. He's done WAY too many bad deeds to be considered "wanted", yet nobody seems to know him.

Charming yet mysterious, It feels like he seems to know everyone. Maybe its because he actually does !!!

Plot twist grahh!!! hes been behind all of the "illness's" and "diseases", and fusions of the like. Yes, even Cotards resurrection. In fact what if i told you that Dr. Sunshine resurrected Cotards to be with him once more !!!! Diversity win! the ocs are gay!

WEHJAKSKS

GETTING OFF TOPIC!!!!! Yes, Dr. sunshine resurrected Cotards to not have to deal with the pain of forever losing him, and when that didnt (seem to) work, he tried fusing him (parts of his mind to be specific) with someone else, however accidentally fusing 3 other people in the process.

Physical features!!! Dr. Sunshine has that Iconic coat i always draw him in, but since there may be other people who read to the end of this, Dr. sunshine has a white doctors/lab coat with many stripes and patterns on it, with (human) eyes on one sleeve. Dr. Sunshine also has a Third eye, and markings/abnormalities covering his body. Dr. Sunshine may or may not be already dead, Its hard to tell as to how many times hes died. Lastly Dr. Sunshine's pronouns are He/him, and hes Bisexual.

CONCLUSION

OH MY GOD. this post is gonna be so fucking long. I hope whoever read this enjoyed reading it because this shit took me 2 hours GRAH

ALSO if this has any errors im sorry bc i wrote this at 4 am for anyone who stumbles across this post later

#closet rambles again on tumblr #will wood #will wood and the tapeworms #wwatt #wwattw #self ish #I should make a tag for my ocs #Closet oc tag!!!

[kienansidhe]

hi, im kienan! im the current host of the disaster hearts system. we are a korean american body with dissociative identity disorder and have had multiple diff hosts over the course of this blogs run. i or some variation of me have been host since around 2017-18ish. for transparencys sake, the body is 25+. do not ask abt age specifics please.

we are a survivor of csa trauma, parental abuse, religious and cult abuse, and generally very traumatized, and our experience of life is irrevocably colored by that lens.

we are disabled and unable to hold a job ever since we got long covid in april of 2020. we are fully dependent on our partners, working on our disability application, and still coming to terms with the reality of being probably permanently disabled.

unless otherwise specified it is probably some variation of kienan speaking.

-♡♡♡-

i, kienan, am queer and i prefer to be addressed by strangers with he/they/it or fae/faeself pronouns. i dont rlly care which of those you use, tho, no need to rotate or anything.

some other labels that generally describe me: nonbinary, transmasc, gnc, cuntboy, [redacted], [redacted], femme, femboy, genderweird, bi, aro/ace with a couple exceptions, sex favorable, kink obligate, freak, degenerate, pervert.

i currently have 4 partners, referred to here as prettyboyfriend, nesting boyfriend, girlfriend/daddy, and moirail.

no dni, i think theyre stupid and the only ppl i would not want to interact would not respect dnis anyways lmao. if i have a problem with you i will just say so or block you or whatever.

some of my beliefs and what to expect on this blog are under the cut.

i believe in rehabilitation and compassion, full stop. yes, even for those people. i think that othering and dehumanizing others sucks, that thoughts do not define you (yes, even those thoughts), and that the only thing that matters is your actions.

i think callouts are never helpful, ever. ive literally never seen one do anything helpful or good.

i try my best to interact with others in good faith, and i expect the same in return.

we were homeschooled in a cult and our education was heavily ~moderated~ to keep us brainwashed, and every time i think ive rooted out all the misinfo new stuff comes up. please be patient with me if i ask stupid questions, i literally am stupid. i have so much literal actual brain damage. i will do my best to be open minded, i rlly want to learn!

i believe that the best ways to combat csa are better sex education, breaking down the sanctity of the nuclear family, youth liberation (more legal rights and self advocacy for children), and not clogging child abuse report portals with fucking fictional art, jesus h christ.

medicalization of identities sucks. sysmeds, transmeds, im sorry youre miserable but thats not an excuse for trying to make everyone else miserable with you.

labels are only useful insofar as they help you connect with others like you and form solidarity in order to combat systemic oppression. if labels make you angry or miserable, consider not taking them so seriously.

its okay to just dislike ppl. its not always that deep. trying to come up with moral reasons to justify disliking ppl is rlly fucking catholic.

dont talk to me abt christianity. im aware that my trauma affects my ability to be compassionate in this area, so im staying in my lane. in fact probably dont talk to me abt religion in general.

im not a proshipper or an anti i touch grass <3, HOWEVER:

antishipping / purity politics / anti-kink / whatever you wanna call it, ppl equating fictional depictions of Obvious Bad Things with condoning, supporting, or normalizing them in real life are fucking stupid and have done unbelievable amounts of damage that has now reached far beyond fandom and kink circles. get a life, for fucks sake.

ppl who call themselves proshippers and then go around harassing antis are fucking stupid and have lost the original spirit of the term proship / anti-anti, which hinged around not harassing or harming others over fiction. get a life, for fucks sake.

just be kind. dont be a dick. treat others how you wanna be treated. we are all traumatized but thats not an excuse to be cruel. leave the world better than you found it.

youre gonna make mistakes. you just are. youre not perfect and also the world is complex. remember that you cant help everyone. try your best but dont lose yourself in the process.

art is everything. the act of creation is holy. more progress is made by creating -- building communities, making art, growing plants, building houses, building relationships -- than by tearing things down. there is probably a time and place for violence, destroying oppressive systems, bombing weapons factories, but if we arent creating a positive, healthy society alongside the destruction we are just leaving fertile ground for new oppressive structures to take root. create. create. create.

-♡♡♡-

many hosts has left a chaotic mess of tags on this blog but here are some we use pretty consistently:

#headspace: original posts. diary rambling, random thoughts, actual semi coherent opinions, anything

#my face: the body

#humans are good actually: reminders

#recovery things: mental health help

#important: there is so much stuff in this tag

#bookmark: too much here too lol

#feel better: just fluffy stuff

#vine: general funny video tag

#about, #me kin id, #i ghostwrote this post: stuff we relate to rlly hard + uquiz tags lol

#posts that are funnier when plural

#pinned #headspace #my face #humans are good actually #recovery things #important #bookmark #feel better #vine #about #me kin id #i ghostwrote this post #posts that are funnier when plural #sorry this is so long idk how to make things not long #will probs edit as i remember stuff

[lonewhumper]

contains: EXPLICIT NSFWHUMP, EXPLICIT NON CON. Whumper POV, then Whumpee POV. Extremely creepy/intimate/possessive Whumper, pet whump, forced submission, forced everything, overstimulation, dissociation, victim blaming from both Whumper and Whumpee to himself, references to undisclosed past abuse.

+++ This whole storyline (and my blog) has an 18+ Only warning but going to reiterate that here, >>>18+ Only Interaction<<< If anyone wants to skip the detailed NSFW, too, you can by only reading after the —x— with Asa's POV.

[5.]

[prev]

Hayes is in love.

The sound the boy—his boy—Asa—lets out when he first takes that pretty cock into his mouth has him knowing he'll never regret this purchase, this gift to himself, no matter how difficult Asa turns out to be.

And maybe this will help. Maybe the pretty thing will realize fighting is useless, and it's all going to happen anyway, and it'll have already happened.

That's all he needs. The first time. It'll be a struggle, surely, but Hayes is ready for that.

And he's going to make it so good that Asa begs for it to happen again.

"Fuck, baby," he mumbles when he pulls off, wrapping his hand around the base to stroke and licking gently at the head, watching as Asa's back arches and he chokes into the gag.

Hayes should really remove that...hear him better...but he's a little busy, right now, working the boy to hardness, and for someone who protests so much—

"That really didn't take much, did it?"

Asa chokes again, quieter, his whole body tensed, and Hayes tsks. He should be getting louder, professing his gratitude to Hayes for this, for saving him from the men who wouldn't have cared about his pleasure, not quieter.

But he's untrained. He doesn't know all that yet. He has no idea what to do at all. Hayes has to remember that it's his job completely to shape the boy into what Hayes knows he should be.

Really, he wouldn't have trusted anyone else to do it. He wouldn't want Asa to love anyone else. And he can see the final product so clearly.

He takes Asa down again, and again, his other hand starting to travel, curiously exploring everywhere nearby, squeezing and rubbing and finally running his finger across the place he can't wait to be inside until Asa jerks in the restraints and whines.

Fuck. Fuck.

"Oh, sweetheart," he breathes, lifting himself up, reaching down into the box on the floor to grab a bottle of lubricant, and the way Asa flinches at the sound of it clicking open without ever looking only further proves that this isn't the first time. Unfortunate, but...with a face so pretty, there was no real chance of Hayes being his first. Though it would have been nice...Hayes knows he's surely the best Asa's ever had, anyway.

"You like being touched there? Of course you do."

Asa shakes his head, crying out another clear disagreement, but Hayes is confident he'll soon change his mind. He wets his fingers, taking Asa into his mouth again, and then slowly starts to slide one in.

And fuck, the sound Asa makes.

The boy keens, trying at first to pull up and away from the intrusion, and then slowly, as Hayes pushes in further, his hips sink back down to the mattress, back down against him.

God, he's perfect, his body made for Hayes to play with, to pleasure, to receive pleasure from.

"That's it, pet," Hayes praises. "That's so good of you. Come on. Just let your body lead, now. It knows what it wants. It knows what feels good."

He thinks Asa tries to kick him, the way he suddenly jerks his leg, but it's hopeless. He's helpless, as he should be. As he's meant to be. And one day, Hayes will be able to take him without restraints, and he'll cling to Hayes and tell him he loves him, thank him for making him such a good boy, thank him for loving him so thoroughly...

Asa makes a different, higher-pitched sound. His hips twitch, and then finally give their first thrust up into Hayes' mouth, and it's such a wonderful accomplishment. Hayes adds a second finger, crooking them to find where his prostate is, and Asa twitches and starts panting louder when he finally finds it, rubbing.

"Good boy," he mumbles, "good boy..."

Asa squirms, gagging on the cloth, and Hayes pauses just long enough to reach up with the hand not still very busy and pull it from Asa's mouth.

"Fuck—" Asa coughs out, heaving in air, face flushed red as he looks down at Hayes with eyes that Hayes can't wait to see full of affection for him.

They're mostly hate, now, though. Hate and fear, so much fear, and Hayes wonders how much of it is fear of himself, the way he has no control, the way his body is being played like a little instrument, one Hayes plans on becoming the one and only master of.

"You—fucking asshole—" Asa finally manages, empty words for someone getting this aroused. Ungrateful, but that can be fixed later. "You—you piece of sh-shit, get your—you fucking—"

Hayes takes him down again, starting to rub once more, and Asa cuts off with a frustrated cry, head falling back against the pillow. "Oh! No—stop!"

"You don't want me to stop," Hayes says, and sucks harder to prove it, massages his pet's prostate until Asa's shuddering and leaking in Hayes' mouth, squirming so damn pretty against the bed. Hayes thinks about how he'll look when his movement is unrestricted, when he can spread his limbs out and stretch out beautifully, when he'll look up at Hayes and accept his rightful place beneath him and enjoy it...

Asa suddenly jerks his hips up, nearly chokes Hayes, and it only turns Hayes on more to hear Asa struggle with the way his body does it again, and then again, leaning into the pleasure even when he keeps trying his hardest to fight it away.

"I'm—no," Asa gasps, even more panicked now, and Hayes is delighted to know exactly why. "Stop—d-d-don't make me—"

Hayes doesn't stop. He never would. In fact, he does everything quicker, as good as he can make it. And as valiantly as Asa struggles to hold it back, whimpering, it must be very good, because suddenly his cries intensify, going straight to Hayes' cock, and then the boy's back arches, and he comes with a broken sob.

Hayes pulls off, spitting out what got in his mouth and stroking his precious pet through it, grinning as he watches Asa's beautiful face as he falls apart, sweat-soaked hair plastered to his face, his eyes squeezed shut.

"That's it," he says, encouragingly. "Fuck, baby. That's it. Let it all out, now. Good boy."

The darling little thing is shaking so badly, mouth parting as he pants, and Hayes can't help but lean down again, licking up the boy's length to make him shudder harder.

"Again?" he asks, and Asa weeps.

"No...no...no..."

"Oh, come on...you're in your best years and only have one come in you? Liar. I bet I could get two...three, even...?"

He goes a little longer, while Asa chokes out adorable begs for him to stop, and eventually, the boy starts to fill out again. Hayes pushes his fingers back inside, and it's so easy this time that he adds a third just because, and Asa, fuck, he's going to kill Hayes with the way he sounds, the way he looks...

"No—" Asa gasps, whining, his expression one of physical pain, now. "No—stop—I can't—"

But this isn't even close to Hayes' first time. He's good with his fingers, good at making whoever's under him scream, and he knows if he keeps pushing, massaging, stroking, sucking—

Asa shouts as he comes again, and it doesn't sound like it brings him much pleasure this time. It sounds like he feels better when it's over, and Hayes sighs, and finally stops, letting him go.

"Too much at once," he agrees. "You're right. That's okay. We have all the time in the world. I have toys, too...but next time."

So many next times. All of them. Fuck that cheating whore—Hayes won't even think of him anymore, or any of the failures before that. Asa is his, now.

Time to make that official.

He lifts himself up, stripping off his underwear to settle himself down on top of Asa. Careful, because he doesn't want to keep him from breathing when his gasps sound this pretty, but he wants to kiss him, and he does.

His boy will understand now. If he doesn't just yet, then he will soon. Hayes just knows it.

—x—

Asa doesn't completely come back to himself, after.

He's there, physically. He knows that. And somewhat, he's there mentally, but...not entirely.

He just feels...different. Incomplete. Like something was just ripped away from him, though he's really not sure what, right now.

It's overall an uncomfortably familiar feeling. And it's safer, he knows, because when he feels like this, distant and dazed, things don't stick as much as they usually do. His memories sort of...fizzle. They're there, but faded, and easier to ignore. Sometimes they're not there at all, until something reminds him, and he's left desperate for them to fade again.

He's humiliated. He's distinctly aware of that. He's horrified, and afraid, and disgusted, and it's hardly even at anyone else, this time. It's not even really at Hayes, in the end.

It happened again. He thought maybe before...he thought there was something there, maybe. He thought that because of who it was, the history there, maybe—maybe his body just...did want it. Maybe it hadn't mattered as much as it'd felt like it mattered, as much as it destroyed him, as much as he wanted to disappear.

But this time...

This time there's no excuse, and he's glad he's not completely there enough to be properly upset that maybe Hayes was fucking right. Maybe the last time someone told him that, they were right too.

Maybe this is what he was meant for. If his fucking disgusting body likes being used so much, then maybe it deserves it. Maybe this is all he deserves at all. Maybe he shouldn't have fought so hard to stop it from happening again, then or now, maybe...

He cries out when Hayes starts nibbling at his neck, kissing and sucking up to his jaw, biting it gently and then kissing down again. He mumbles something, something Asa doesn't catch, and then slides back down between Asa's legs, hiking them up a bit.

"No," Asa sobs, shaking his head. "No. No. Please no."

Hayes groans. "Fuck, baby...say please again."

"Chris," Asa tries instead, because it's the only thing he can think of left to do. "Don't. Don't do that."

"Asa..." Hayes tsks, kissing up his chest. "You know I told you to call me Sir."

It doesn't matter. Asa knows it won't make it stop, and he refuses to do that when it won't change a thing. All he can do is lay there as Hayes teases at his body, and by the time Hayes finally pushes into him, he's even more distant, and it's a mercy.

"Asa—" Hayes gasps, right into his ear, "mmm—so tight, baby, so good—come on, enjoy this with me..."

Asa's mostly numb. Drained and exhausted. And even though a few angled thrusts send another few sparking aftershocks through him that make him shudder, Hayes finishes inside of him before his body can betray him again.

It did enough, though. Hayes did enough. Asa did enough.

Enough.

"Fuck, baby," Hayes murmurs, still twitching, still holding Asa tight. "Oh, that was so good. You're so good..."

Then finally, he relaxes. He pulls out, and tells Asa to stop crying, but Asa doesn't know how to. He feels like maybe he won't ever be able to stop again.

"Ssh, sweet boy." Hayes pulls himself close, cuddling him, kissing his lips and then nuzzling into his neck. "You're okay. It's all okay. It's over. That wasn't so awful, was it? No, it was good. You wouldn't have come like that if it wasn't good. I made you feel good...oh, I'm so happy for us. You did so well. So good for me. My Asa."

Asa can't even disagree. He can't. Not like this. Not after that.

Maybe he was never his own in the first place, if he broke this easily.

Maybe he can still fight...he can still...

But not now. No more, right now. No more.

"No more," he whispers, and Hayes pets through his hair, kisses his temple and seems horrifically genuine in his attempts to soothe him.

"No. Ssh. No more. You did good. You're a good boy. I knew you would be, and you are. I love you. I just had to show you. And you know now, right? Yeah. You know. You can rest now. Just rest, my love."

Another mercy, Asa's eyes slide quickly closed, and it doesn't take long at all for him to fall into sleep.

taglist: @oddsconvert @darkthingshappen @leyswhumpdump @littlespacecastle @forthetaintedsorrow-whump @veyroswin @the-non-binary-cowboy @eatyourdamnpears @suspicious-whumping-egg @t0rture-me @darlingwhump @melancholy-in-the-morning @flowersarefreetherapy @ender-whumps @the-infinant-one @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @endless-whump @bluewhumpcrew @serickswrites @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @flynnswhumpprompts @whumpcereal (let me know if you want on or off this list!)

[next]

[series masterlist]

#nsfwhump #whump #whump writing #pet whump #whumblr #whumpblr #intimate whumper #possessive whumper

[belit0]

Killer - part 3 (TobiIzu)

Hashirama as a therapist… nope. part 2

"Izuna! Uchiha Izuna... I've heard so much about you, finally seeing you in person is great! Please come in, make yourself comfortable." The therapist greets him with much more energy than he would like, and now he understands why his Aniki told him to give him a chance before running off.

Just for him, he'll try.

The professional's house is genuinely beautiful, a building proper of people with money, and if the Uchiha had to bet, he would say Hashirama must have at least 4 properties in his name, about two cars, and some other luxuries in other countries.

He walks down a few corridors before arriving at the room his therapist uses as an office, walls adorned with expensive paintings and strange sculptures on overly colorful pedestals. "Your brother filled me in, at least superficially, but I expect to hear it from you. Something to drink? Coffee, water, gin?" he can't tell if the man is joking or not, with that overwhelmingly white smile plastered constantly on his face. Izuna assumes he must have cramped cheeks.

He nods in agreement, receiving a glass of room-temperature water with a strange taste, still not having uttered a word since arriving at the place, and sits down on the couch the professional indicates. A wonderful black and shiny real leather couch, with a blanket and everything to cover himself if he needs it. All he can think about is how Itachi must have had fun coming to a place like this and talking to such a guy.

He takes another sip of water, setting the glass down on a coffee table next to the sofa.

"So, Izuna! Tell me what brings you here." He chooses not to answer, figuring that if he remains silent for the entire session he can get away with Hashirama filling in the gaps with more questions he won't answer, but his soul falls at his feet upon realizing if he says nothing, he'll stare at him in silence until the hour his brother paid for is over.

After about ten minutes of staring at the floor and the room, scanning the place, and picking the skin off his fingernails while nervously tapping his foot against the floor, he finally gives in, "the room isn't bugged or anything? What about that?" There is a camera in one of the corners of the room, security system, with a red light that keeps flashing in his direction. He feels watched, monitored, the same feeling he can't seem to get out of his body since that night.

"Patient with pronounced paranoia," Hashirama seems to mutter to himself, but in a tone of voice too loud to intend for him not to hear it. He writes in his notebook as he glances at him cautiously, waiting for Izuna to step on the stick again, "Of course not, I work with a lot of cops every day, people who went through even worse things than you. The camera is for precaution, my own safety."

"Ha, I doubt that."

"What makes you think that?"

"Let's start with how the shot went out the butt of my own gun and sent me straight into a death trap?" The words come out in a trail of anxiety and desperation, as if they had long been stuck on the tip of his tongue without courage to utter them. Izuna never dared to speak of that night aloud, neither to the police nor to his brother, fearing that replaying it will make it real.

If he ignores it, he can pretend it didn't happen.

"Anger and resentment mixed with dissociations and metaphors." The therapist continues to write, one leg crossed over the other as if ignoring him. "Are you going to repeat everything you write down in your damn notebook? Are you making fun of me?"

"Oh no, just a bad habit, I always needed to write out loud, people at my college hated me for it."

"Are we here to talk about you or me?" The question is an attempt at defensive aggression, exposing him in the face of having to talk.

"Well, that's up to you, exactly. You don't seem open to talking about it, and I'm afraid if I push you you'll run out the door. Tell me, Izuna, what do you need?"

"What do I need?"

"You don't want to speak, you're angry, paranoid, shut down... you yourself should know better than anyone else what your head needs." The lightness of his words and the ease with which he reads him leads him to wonder how much information his Aniki revealed regarding his situation, or if the guy is genuinely good enough to notice his afflictions so easily.

There's something about the man that doesn't sit right with him, the same feeling he had that night before he walked through that motel door, the same instinct he ignored as it implored him to run and get the hell away from that shithole.

Hashirama's smile is haunting, too perfect to be real, and the questions he asks are too pointed, too unorthodox. Izuna never went to a psychologist, but from the experiences he's heard from different people, your therapist doesn't treat you this way.

"What happened that night, Izuna?" he asks dismissively, reducing the glimpse of his white teeth so as not to be so tetric while making the question.

"I was attacked, you should know."

"Who attacked you?"

"The white demon."

"Uh, I like that name. Tell me about him." He sets the notebook down on the coffee table in front of him, resting the pen he uses to write on it. He places each elbow on one of his knees, and rests his chin on his hands, leaning forward in a gesture of genuine interest for his response.

"I couldn't release details, they're part of a private, confidential investigation." The Uchiha feels trapped, cornered, sinking his back against the leather couch and begging for the fabric to swallow him up. Both hands clench the edge tightly, knuckles white, and he makes an enormous effort to keep his breathing calm.

"Come on, my friend! You couldn't guess the number of cops who passed by that same couch and said that same speech! Everything here is private, confidential, I'm as professional as you are, you're safe." A disturbing uneasiness creases his chest as he notices his mind relax, letting himself be carried away by the therapist's words and entering into his game.

Maybe talking about it isn't so bad, putting it into words can help make it go away. Maybe he is truly paranoid, feeling persecuted everywhere he goes. The messages he's been receiving on his phone don't help, nor does the fact that his attacker seems to have eyes everywhere.

"He...tricked me. I thought I had him, but I was following the steps he wanted me to follow." He confesses looking down at the floor, unable to hold the professional's gaze as he spontaneously opens his heart.

"What happened?"

"He took me wherever he wanted, and did whatever he wanted with me."

"Did you like it?"

" Excuse me?" He wants to believe he misheard the question, but the therapist's morbid grin on his face indicates otherwise. The query was as real as the pit forming in his stomach from discomfort, and all the walls he thought prudent to tear down rise back up with more force.

"I mean, my brother told me about it, he said you moaned like a bitch in heat when he was inside you, I just want to know if it was real or if he's bluffing." The darkness in his eyes denotes evil, and the fact that he gets up and walks to the door and opens it as well.

"Wha-a… my-y bro-other-"

"Brothers... yeah, it's crazy what one does for them, isn't it? Look how far I've gone for mine! A ruined career and a direct ticket to a country where I'm unimpeachable. It's not personal, Izuna, he just really likes you!" Hashirama watches him with demented eyes, and the Uchiha doesn't have time to react, to move, to try to run away.

The open door would give him a unique opportunity, but his body does not respond. Freedom is so close, yet he cannot reach it.

How did this happen? How can it be possible for him to show up for a therapy session with the man that the whole police headquarters seems to use for difficult cases only to have everything go to hell? Is it paranoia making him imagine things? Is it post-traumatic stress making him see situations that don't exist?

All his doubts become clear when his worst nightmare walks through the door.

Paralyzed with panic, all he can do is cry and scream incoherently when Tobirama walks in with a smirk on his face, pats his brother on the shoulder, and heads towards him.

“Long time no see, baby, missed me?”

#tobiizu #tobirama senju x izuna uchiha #senju tobirama x uchiha izuna #uchiha izuna x senju tobirama #izuna uchiha x tobirama senju #senju tobirama #tobirama senju #izuna uchiha #uchiha izuna #izuna #tobirama #izutobi #naruto shippuden #naruto imagines #naruto #hashirama senju #senju hashirama #hashirama

[haunted-kitty]

hi systems of tumblr i need Help. i am a questioning system and i have been for a long while now and idfk what to do or think anymore

i cannot talk to any sort of therapist / psychologist about this, so please give me any assistance you can even if its just "this sounds like ____" / "this relate to this and i have ___" / ANYTHING please

warning i dump some of my trauma here but i also put red text that just gives a summary without heavy desc so you can skip the description if you dont want to be triggered or upset.

tw child abuse, mentions of death / injury

basic info about me that may or may not relate

- i am a minor with cptsd & autism

- i have a Lot of repetitive trauma. like i dont wanna traumadump it all rn but a Lot.

- i am disabled

- all my older relatives are all shitty people which i cannot ask for help with this. all my younger relatatives would not be able to help. there is no one who i trust enough to help me with this So hiiii anon tumblr blog here i am

-i have not wanted to live for as long as i can remember [and i can remember very far back].

- i had a lot of periods in my childhood where i go Blank for a while, like, memory wise. i would "wake up" somewhere else the middle of an action and have no idea what was going on or why i was there. or felt out of control of my body, i dont know if this has lessened or if i have just grown used to the feeling if that makes sense

- i am psychotic. i have been since i was little and i know how to deal with it now and do not have any Serious delusions or hallucinations anymore

-ive been questioning whether or not im a system for a Long while now but i never get far with it because i literally cannot figure myself out.

- i do not feel i have a real personality

- i dissociated a Lot in childhood and even now.

- i feel like shit went Wrong when i was meant to develop into a normal person and i am now fundamentally fucked

- i have done a Lot of research of osdd/did [and disorders in general] on and off for some years and have never found a conclusion for myself Help me

trauma dump about my experience with possible alter - scroll to red text if you are triggered by: religious trauma, suicide mention / suicidal thoughts

when i was a child [this is abt when i was around 8] i was heavily in denial about the fact that i wanted to die.

i knew my parents [abusive] would react Badly and also i was religious and raised to believe i would burn in hell for it so i just Refused to admit that i hated living.

one day i saw it on the news with my parents [it was some headline like "suicide rates rising" or sum idfk sorry] and my mother said "who would be crazy enough to try and kill themselves" and she wanted an answer back so i said "haha yeah..." and i heard a voice behind me [like Right in my ear behind me] say "you would" [as in you would be crazy enough]

this was not an auditory hallucination. i did not have voice hallucinations at the age and it was extremely different to anything i have ever experienced.

and i was fucking terrified cause as previously mentioned i was raised religious and thought this was a demon trying to tempt me into sin and holy fuck there was a creepy girl whispering my deepest darkest most sinful of secrets in my ears

the voice whispered more into my ear about my inner workings and thoughts and stuff i was in denial of

i have no clue if this makes sense but when i heard its voice i saw like a Flash of info about it. like when you suddenly remember something and the whole memory just Vwoops into your brain? some physical traits and some personality traits, along with the fact that this thing Knows me deeply and knows everything about me?

i looked behind me and asked my mother if she said anything and she said no and gave me a weird look.

i never mentioned anything to anyone because i was convinced they would hurt me if i did.

i felt its presence in the back of my mind [it didnt speak often but even when silent i could feel its presence like the way you know when someones staring at you].

i kept refusing it and saying i did not want it and ignoring it everytime possible and eventually i felt it fade [not the right word but idk wtf to say. it went In or it just disapeared or something]. i felt kind of at a loss when it happened cause i didnt know what to do.

i considered the idea that it was trying to help me but even if it was i had no clue what it was.

TLDR: 8ish yrs old. i was in denial about my mental issues. i heard a voice in my ear very clearly wording out my mental issues in a way i could not. freaked the fuck out and ignored it even though i felt its presence for like a month and eventually i stopped feeling it there. no clue what that was

i told a system blog this experience once and they suggested that i look into bpd & aspd and that they dont know what to say as theyd never heard of something like that happening so young before

since then i have been never heard the voice behind me or any other solid voice. i dont know if it was an alter who went dormant or just some weird dream or hallucination or what.

i ignored it for all my childhood because i was scared. at some point a few years ago [covid times] i felt something similar again, not a voice but Something and i felt the immense need to try and figure it out. i did a Lot of work and all i could figure out was that voice probably Was trying to help me in some way. i was heavily in denial about most of my trauma and mental illness until like a few years ago because my family basically cult brainwashed me Haha.

also also i have had a lot of times where i have not felt Myself but have also still been there. its hard to word but i was still There watching myself do things and if i Really wanted i could try and stop my body from moving but like.... I didnt feel like i was Alone in my brain if that makes sense??? bru idk its that Feeling that someone else is there thing again.

trauma dump warning if you are triggered by: phys abuse [by father] mention, desc of me fearing my abuser would kill me scroll to red text

a time like this that stands out a lot is when i was younger [9+ -14] and my dad had just hit me and yelled at me and he pushed me down and i nearly hit my head on the stone kitchen counter but i just missed it and i was struck with this horrible fear because what would have happened if i did hit my head? i would probably be seriously injured. ive hurt myself on there before and it wasnt even that bad then but i still needed to go to the hospital. would i have died if i hit my head then? is he going to kill me now? and i was filled with so much fear i couldnt move and i had no idea how i would get out of this. i was literally backed into a corner. i completely spaced out.

i felt myself kinda Snap back in my mind for a second like idk how to phrase it but my mind Changed and all of a sudden i had a clear plan like Streamlined to my head and all emotion and desires other than SURVIVE were pushed out And like i felt So out of it and disorientated and ouguhhhhh felt weird bru idk how to word this shit was Odd and moving my body felt weird.

i saw myself run upstairs and check for injuries and try to clean up nd fix body but i did not feel like i was moving ??? like i was Out Of It and my body was just taking care of itself and i was just There like what is happening. OH I SORT OF HEARD A VOICE AGAIN HERE BUT IT WAS MORE LIKE. sudden dominant thought than voice in my ear voice. it was just telling me what to do and questioning if i had bandaids in my room.

TLDR: a time that stands out is when i was younger [9>14], i was being abused and nearly had a serious injury which i slimly avoided and was frozen with fear and spaced out. i suddenly felt myself snap back into place, disorientated and completely Weird, and felt thoughts [a plan to get out] that were not mine. i did not feel fully in control of my body and like i was being fed another persons thoughts as i saw my body tried to help itself. i felt like another persons thoughts were dominating over mine and all in all Strange.

anyway i kinda got back into myself after i was mostly taken care of but i was still Not Fully There if that makes sense??? like i still wasnt responding or thinking or talking or moving ANYTHING like what i usually do and i was aware of this and i was really confused about it and what was going on

sorry if this is worded wrong i wrote most of this late at night and again im autistic and get misinterpreted a lot and also my memory is kinda fucked up

anyways if anyone could could shed any light on this in literally anyway you could i would be super grateful.

ALSO if you think this is some form of osdd/did/plural thing Please tell me how to speak to the people in my head cause idk its weird like this i would like to know what is happening in there and not feel like im suddenly being possessed or like im insane

#questioning system #dissociative identity disorder #other specified dissociative disorder #osdd #system #did osdd #osdd system #did system #system help #plurality #dear GOD please show up in the tags #sorry if im using the wrong tags or terms or anything #im not used to tumblr

[cozza-frenzy]

For some reason tumblr isn't letting us reply to this ask "properly", so fuck it, text post time. Hope you see this, anon. Oh boy. Well, we often end up telling this story because a lot of systems tell us they've never seen anything like it before, but if you guys do have something similar you have my sympathy. Dealing with it wasn't easy, it wasn't fun, and we were very lucky that someone (Vimes) showed up to stop it from causing further harm. This story may be disturbing; it also talks about events in our inner world. For any non-systems reading this, the Inner World is a visual reference tool that out system gives us in order to better understand the mood and mental state of parts. It gives us unique appearances "in our head", and gives us ways to work through our trauma by creating memories of places and each other within it. This isn't a hallucination or a delusion; it's our subconscious adapting to dissociative parts that act like separate people, and sometimes it can do just as much harm as good. (Continued under the cut)

So here's the thing - when you have DID/OSDD (at this point we're not sure which one) and your brain has been suppressing almost everything about this for a long time, often it has a lot of catching up to do. Alters can start to emerge very quickly, either coming out of dormancy or spontaneously forming from specific types of trauma. What happened in our case, though, was every single trauma "category" that hadn't formed an alter yet got stuck together. And this didn't form one alter with a lot of trauma; instead it formed a kind of huge "pseudo-alter", one that manifested not with an in-system body, but as an entire place within our inner world. That was The Red Forest. Initially, we thought it was just another place. A forest full of birch trees with bright red leaves, with a thick carpet of red leaves covering the floor - it was completely silent, and even the sounds of footsteps and voices sounded odd, like something was stopping the sound from traveling. Needless to say, it gave us all the creeps. But then we saw someone new come out of the Red Forest - and we figured okay, sure, I guess this is how our brain handles this now. Alters have to come from somewhere, so this is where alters come from. I even went in there once myself, riding on the back of Rakugaki (now a part of Anarchy) because I could sense there was someone in there who was lost, and that was how we found Holiday. Oh boy, was that a mistake. Turned out The Red Forest didn't just feel hostile; it was hostile, in the sense that a wild animal whose territory you just invaded is hostile. All that unresolved trauma hadn't formed something intelligent; it'd formed a huge pile of hurt, anger, fear and pain, that was now aware of where the pieces that kept breaking off it kept going. Within a few days we started to hear horrible noises in the front, like tearing metal or animals being slaughtered, and then the entire thing - the entire Red Forest in itself - attempted to front. It over-wrote our fronting room and dropped all of us right in the middle of it, only withdrawing when it realized it couldn't actually control the body in the state it was in. But nonetheless it took out its rage on Chaos; unlucky enough to get trapped inside of it, it ended up being injured in the Inner World, something that can't normally happen unless someone really wants someone else to be hurt. The first thing it said upon finally getting out - after me and Rakugaki went in there again and spent three real-world hours trying to find it - was "don't go in there, it hates us". We're only lucky that the very next alter I spotted emerging from the forest - from a safe distance, on our in-system "cameras" - was Vimes. He's a specific type of gatekeeper we call a Jailer, who can lock down areas of the Inner World, and he was able to keep the Red Forest contained where it was. He was able stop it from fronting (though it certainly didn't stop trying) and was able to go in there with his lantern - back then, our Inner World's only representation of hope - and lead other alters to join the rest of us. We put a contingency plan ("Operation Kaiju") in place in case it ever escaped containment. But even at its worst we only ever enacted the first half of that; I realized it could be reasoned with, and attempted basic communication through Vimes' barrier. It only ever said one thing with words, and it was "thank you". After the emergence of Jenova, The Red Forest "died" on July 31st 2023, and no longer exists in our system. Our remaining alters found their way to us of their own accord. Chaos still has a special bond with Vimes, and has made him part of its ever-growing adopted family. And we've marked the date on our calendar as our system's Collective Birthday, because it marked the beginning of the end of our system discovery. Whatever you have in your system, anon, I hope our story inspires yours to handle it however you can. Trust in each other, put your unique abilities and skills to good use, and work together. It's the only way to move forward. - Terry, Martin & Leaf

#Shit Terry Says #Tea And Sympathy #(Leaf doesn't have a personal tag but it says it might add one later) #Adventures in OSDD

[blnk338]

I might be seeing correlations where there aren't any but chapter 9 of RWYS is called Against the Bathroom Floor and the first thing I thought of was the song 'Against the Kitchen Floor' by Will Wood. That probably wasn't your intention but I couldn't help myself but make that connection. And some of the lyrics even fit Reapers story. (I might be barking up the wrong tree here but it's almost 2 am, cut me some slack. I just needed to get this out of my head before I forgot about it overnight)

IM SO GLAD YOU POINTED THIS OUT MAN!!! yes yes yes yes yes, it was a direct reference to the song against the kitchen floor!!

i really really wanted to add the song as the chapter song but i thought the title for the chapter would make it kinda cheesy but

CW: mentions of suicide, mentions of death, mentions of parental neglect/abuse, mentions of romantic abuse, self-destruction, self-deprecation, NSFW mentions, mentions of imposter syndrome, mentions of dissociation,

this part specifically highlights her internal strife with knowing that her friends, her makeshift family, are dead for a reason that she blames herself for. there's also a small part of this piece that is actually her apologizing to herself. she knows she difficult on herself and she knows that she needs to be nicer, but she doesn't really know how to do it. "bottom shelf erotic products" meaning, in my mind, the last choice to make someone feel good, is again, how she feels about herself.

that first line is so important because, even though she yearns for closeness and will be there for the people she cares about, in the end, she will always find a way to keep her distance from them, never truly being vulnerable.

I feel like this one's more obvious, but its Reaper trying to explain she really truly wants to be a better person and to be able to receive love without shattering into a million pieces, but she's still learning how to function as a person.

Again, she's promising and trying, but there's a desperation, not a confirmation there. That, yes, she's making an effort, but there's a doubt in herself even before she tries

There's a double meaning here for Reaper. On one hand, she's speaking to the people that she cares about. That even though she's been there for them and she's tried, she still doesn't feel like they're close, it's almost as if it's one big lie. There's a huge sense of imposter syndrome in Reaper's character and this piece gives way to that. The idea that she's giving her body while someone gave their heart-- as if the idea of giving anything more than physical is difficult for her to understand. She didn't think anyone would notice that she was struggling and is confused and conflicted when they do. Also, "the more you reassure, the less I trust," is another hint at the imposter syndrome, that she doesn't believe anyone out there is actually trying to help her, but is actually trying to just shut her up.

But there is another meaning to this. Specifically the first line is something she says to herself. I think her dissocation plays a part in this, but Reaper's a person who, for so long, has felt like a third party in her body. That she still doesn't know who she is, that's she's still lonely in a place where she probably shouldn't be.

I actually think this second line's super impactful because it mentions monkey-wrenching, and it's added another layer to her misery. It's self-sabotage. She's actively isolated herself and put herself in a position where she has fixed ideals.

Explaining that she's lived several lives, one as an abandoned child, another as an angry teen, another as an exiled daughter, one as a soldier, and finally, a vengeful undead being; but she's never truly died. Even though these versions of her have been "killed," she's never truly died.

Finally "But I'm not a real person." This is another moment where she finalizes the fact that she doesn't really know what, even less so who, she is. What happened to the woman she used to see looking back at her in the mirror? She doesn't know.

"I'm just as exposed if I take off my clothes." IS SO FUCKING IMPORTANT. She's trying, fuck, she is trying so fucking hard, but no matter what, there is still a layer of her that she is so terrified to shed.

The next line is also crucial, especially because of Robin. Toward the end of their relationship, there was a distance in their sex life where it was sort of just mechanical to Reaper, less actual love-making. This impacts her because that creates another division in her life-- something that she used to enjoy had become void of meaning.

The rift in her continues to pull apart, knowing that no matter how much she's trying, she's not going to feel good enough for her girlfriend, her mom, but even to herself. Without the proper care in her life, Reaper doesn't know what "good enough" even is.

"Did I really have any of that gravity?" = "Did anything I ever do actually mean anything like I thought it did?"

There's so much misery and lack of self-sustainment in Reaper's actions, wondering how much she's actually sunk down before realizing she was drowning. She hadn't realized how much gas she'd poured on her relationships that, in the end, as everything burned, she desperately just wanted an answer as to how any of this happened in the first place. "Catatonic in your arms," in whose? In Robin's? In her mother's? In her own?

"I'm pounding my head against the kitchen floor." Blaming herself for all of the destruction as the next line she apologies for ever causing any of it, even if it wasn't entirely her fault. There's a dread for what comes next, knowing that the life-sucking relationships will eventually end and she doesn't want them to. For some reason, she fears the day that they'll come because then she'll be truly alone.

She knows the other people she cared about had things they'd gone through, but she can't help but fall into a muddled pile of sadness at all that had been shown to her.

That final line is so fucking important because it highlights how much Reaper can't control herself. There's so much of her that is all impulse and she knows for a fact that if shit did hit the fan that she'd act brashly. There's an effort for one last moment of kindness, one last favor, for the people who are leaving her to at least soften the blow ("But hide my knives before you go, I'll either live or die alone") because she fears that one day something will hit her hard enough and she won't come out the other end.

Here she recognizes her progress, she understands that she's better than the person she used to be, and yet, there's a lack of something in her words-- as if she doubts the obvious improvement that she's made. She's still apologizing for who she was and what she thinks she caused.

She doesn't think she's a good person given all that she's done, she doesn't think she's a person in the slightest, just a hollowed-out shell that's destroyed everything good in her life (true or not).

And again, someday she thinks she'll improve, but she doesn't know when.

The last part isn't as much of a meaningful part to her, but I think it would be interesting to note that maybe she makes an effort to make her reactions explosive to at least get some attention, some recognition that she's not okay.

And of course, she's sorry.

#rwys cn #rwys notes #rwys asks #asks

[asking-jude]

I really need some help...

I have periods of time (could be from 1 minute to over a day) where I either feel like I'm not real, everything else isn't real, or both. At first it was every once in a while, but now it's gotten a lot more frequent, to the point where it makes it difficult for me to do anything. It's really bad, and I can't even look at the sky anymore without feeling like I'm going to throw up. For a while, it was manageable, but now whenever I look at an object I feel like something's off; it's either too detailed or not detailed enough, a slight shade different than it "should" be, doesn't look like how I remember it to be, etc. I think it's going to keep on getting worse, because earlier today I couldn't even look at my reflection. There's just a voice in my head now that tells me that nothing is real. I don't even feel like I am actually in my body, I have a constant headache all the time, and I can barely remember my name. I think this started happening because I've consumed so much media (for example, books, webtoons, TV series, movies, sometimes even daydreaming), but now the only way for me to get my mind off of feeling like nothing exists is to consume more media, which then furthers the problem. I really don't want to be alive anymore because my brain just hurts all the time. Any suggestions on how I could try to fix this?

Do you want free, fast mental health help? Visit askingjude.org.

Hi love,

Thank you for reaching out to Asking Jude. I am sorry that you are going through this; I am sure it has been a difficult and confusing situation to navigate. From what you have described, it sounds like you are experiencing dissociative episodes. These usually serve as a coping mechanism in response to stressful events or high-anxiety situations, and can be challenging to live with.

Here is some information that might help you understand what you are going through: https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/dissociative-disorders/symptoms-causes/syc-20355215; https://www.nhs.uk/mental-health/conditions/dissociative-disorders/.

If you are able, I would recommend speaking to a mental health professional. A therapist can provide you with coping mechanisms or medication that will help you feel more grounded and connected to your surroundings, and they can help you manage your episodes when they happen again. Many people who experience dissociative episodes benefit from breathing exercises and journaling. You can try writing detailed descriptions of your life and your identity, and you can read them when you feel like you are dissociating.

Here are some resources that discuss dissociation and how to cope with it in further detail: https://www.mind.org.uk/information-support/types-of-mental-health-problems/dissociation-and-dissociative-disorders/coping-with-dissociation/; https://newviewpsychology.com.au/strategies-to-reduce-dissociation/.

It is also important to address your thoughts on not wanting to live anymore. I completely understand how overwhelming it feels to dissociate continuously, but it is important that you communicate these thoughts to someone (for example, a therapist, your parents, your close friends, etc.) so that they can help you cope with them. If you are not ready to communicate with them yet, there are other resources available so that you receive the help you need.

Here are some examples of 100% anonymous hotlines and online chats with licensed therapists: The 988 lifeline is a 24/7 available lifeline that offers anonymous care for those with suicidal thoughts: https://988lifeline.org

Here is a link where you can anonymously chat with a therapist: https://www.7cups.com/?correlationId=9e0ee25e-9b29-48fe-b015-cfbfc3657197. Here are a few more additional links that relate to suicide prevention: https://www.suicidestop.com/suicide_prevention_chat_online.html; https://befrienders.org/.

Please remember that whatever feelings you are having right now are not permanent, and that there are numerous amazing things you have yet to experience in your life.

Thank you again for reaching out to Asking Jude, and please do not hesitate to reach out again. I hope that some of this information was helpful, and I wish you all the best.

Love,

Jimena

Ask a question here.

#ask #advice #mental health #health advice #love advice #dating advice #relationship advice #lgbtq advice

[actress4him]

Whumptober 2023 - Day 28 - The Shadow of Death

This is a canon piece that follows after Take Me Instead, the beginning of their captivity with Kane. Bruno and Kane belong to Izzy. Mind the tags!

Taglist: @painful-pooch , @sssunshinebreeze

Masterlist

No. 28: “We might not make it to the morning; so go on and tell me now.” | Sacrifice

Contains: lady whump, dude whump, aftermath of vaguely implied noncon, dissociation, captivity, restraints, panic, talk of death, talk of self-sacrifice

.

.

“Kamaria.”

The name floats past her, in and out of her hearing, without meaning anything. Nothing means anything. Nothing is real, the world around her is warped and she floats through it. 

“Kamaria…please. Come back to me, my love.”

A single coherent thought crosses her mind - I don’t want to come back. She doesn’t know why. She has the distinct feeling, though, that if she thinks about it too hard, she’s going to regret it. 

It’s too late, though. The voice keeps beckoning her, and her mind is drawn to it, wanting to identify it and see what it wants. She hears it louder, clearer, and the walls of the room begin to come into focus, then suddenly she’s awake, she’s lying on the ground, there are chains around her wrists and ankles and throat and she hurts. There’s so much pain, and she remembers why. She remembers, before everything went away and she started floating, that she was screaming, and screaming, and screaming, and she couldn’t stop.

She’s screaming now, she realizes. Something between screams and sobs, ripping straight from her chest. She wants to go back to the place where everything was meaningless. She doesn’t want to remember, but now she can’t do anything but remember. 

The one thing she’s always feared finally happened. She’s relived it in her dreams over and over again, the night when she, as a young girl, had to witness her friends and family being attacked. She’s imagined it happening to herself nearly as many times. And now it has. 

Just because it’s over doesn’t mean the fear is gone, though. It’s still choking her, like it’s happening all over again right here, right now. 

“Kamaria, please. It’s over. I’m here.”

Bruno. He’s always tried to keep her safe. He tried this time, too, but he couldn’t. He can’t save her now, from her fear and her memories, but she clings to his voice, anyway. 

“Help, help, help me, help me please…” She doesn’t know what she’s saying, the words spill out on the heels of her sobs as she rolls toward him, trying to find his face through a blur of tears.

“I’m here, I’m right here, love.” His voice is hoarse, a barely-there rasp. She remembers now, that in the midst of her own screaming, he was screaming, too. A heartrending sound that she could barely even focus on. Right now it sounds like he might be crying along with her. “It’s just us. No one else is here. Just breathe, okay? Breathe, Kamaria.”

She can’t breathe, not as long as this pain persists, reminding her of everything that just happened. But she tries. For Bruno, she tries to calm herself. Her eyes finally latch onto his, whole body trembling as she forces deeper breaths into her lungs. 

“That’s it, there you go. You’re okay. You’re okay.”

Her face crumples and a fresh batch of tears begin pouring down her cheeks. She hasn’t cried like this in so many years, but she has no control over it right now. She’s so weak. None of this should have ever happened, she should have been able to fight it, but there were just so many of them. And even now, she should be able to handle it. She’s experienced much worse pain than this so many times, has been in so many horrible situations. Why must this be the thing that has her coming undone?

“Ey lamoste, ey lamoste.” He doesn’t need to have to deal with her right now, they need to be figuring out a way to get free and get out of here. She sucks in another breath, trying mostly in vain to wipe her cheek on her shoulder. 

“No, you have no need to be sorry. I’m sorry. So, so sorry, Kamaria, I…I tried, but it wasn’t enough. I failed you. I couldn’t stop them, I wasn’t strong enough for you.”

She shakes her head, swallowing down more tears. “You couldn’t…there was nothing you could do. You shouldn’t have tried to sacrifice yourself.”

“I had to, I couldn’t just let them -!” What little remains of his voice catches, and he looks up at the ceiling, blinking back his own tears. “But I did. I let them do exactly what I was trying to prevent.”

“It’s not your fault. They had you chained up, you had no way of getting to me. I couldn’t fight them, either, I’m the one who…who let them.” Another wave of memory washes over her and she gasps, curling in on herself, pain shooting through her center when she moves. 

“Hey, hey keep breathing, love.” He’s rolled back toward her now, leaning as far forward as he can with the chain around his neck holding him back.  “It’s alright. It’s not your fault, either, okay? You can’t blame yourself. Just keep breathing, and focus on me, right here and now.”

She can’t not blame herself, but she does focus on him, matching her breaths with his for a moment. “If you…if you had managed to sacrifice yourself, like you wanted…if you’d left me behind and gone off to…to die, or whatever you were trying to do…I’d have never forgiven you. I would have hunted him down until I found you and got you back. You’re not supposed to do that, we’re supposed to fight together.”

“I know. I’m sorry. But Kane, he…he’s nearly impossible to beat. He’s too powerful, has too many men behind him, and he knows…he knows exactly what to do to break people. I didn’t want that to happen to you. I deserve what he was going to give me, I’m a war criminal. You don’t deserve any of this. You shouldn’t have to be here.”

“Shut up,” she hisses. “Whatever you did…I know you, and I know you wouldn’t do it without a really good reason. That doesn’t mean you deserve death, or captivity, or any of the rest of it.”

Bruno sighs heavily, wincing a little and readjusting his position. They must have beaten him at some point, he has a split lip and a bruise forming on his cheekbone. “I had a very, very good reason for it. And I will tell you about it…someday, I promise. But that doesn’t change the fact that I committed a crime, and Kane is determined to make me pay for it. He won’t be satisfied with just my death, though. He could have taken me up on my offer if that was the case. He wants to punish me, and…” He gazes at her, eyes full of sadness. “And he’ll use you to do it.”

The thought of having to go through what just happened again makes her heart stop beating for a moment, but she pushes through this time, forcing her lungs to work, forcing her expression back into neutral, clenching her jaw until it aches to keep herself under control. It hasn’t been this hard to do so for a long, long time. 

“I can handle pain,” she tells him once she’s sure she can speak without crying. “You know I can.”

His face says that he knows exactly what’s going through her head, regardless of what she’s saying aloud. “I know. That doesn’t mean I want you to, though. Watching you go through everything with Roderick was bad enough, I…” Shaking his head, he stares at the ceiling again. 

“Kamaria, I don’t know what’s going to happen in the coming days. It’s going to be hard, and I don’t know how long he’ll let me survive. I will do everything I can to protect you, though.”

“I don’t need you to protect me. Protect yourself for once, please.”

“Not if it means…” He turns to her, and he looks almost…defeated. “Not if it means you going through that again. I can’t…” He swallows hard, breath shuddering as he draws it in. “I’m going to do everything I can to protect you. And I want you to remember, no matter what happens to us, that I love you, okay? I will always love you.”

Saying it is still so new, it feels like trying to learn Common all over again. That doesn’t make it any less true, though. “I love you, too, Bruno. Always. Ey ti ameil.”

“Ey ti ameil.” 

She doesn’t poke fun at him for his accent, he’s so genuine and the moment is too fragile. At any moment, the little bit of peace they’ve found will shatter. She’s always prided herself on being strong, but she isn’t, not right now. She needs him, needs his love, to get through. 

They have to make it through.

#whumptober2023 #no.28 #lyric #we might not make it to the morning so go on and tell me now #sacrifice #original content #fic #implied noncon tw #dissociation tw #captivity tw #restraints tw #panic tw #death mention tw #self sacrifice tw #shadow of death #kamaria the assassin #bruno stenberg #brumaria #lady whump #lady whumpee #dude whump #aftermath of noncon #romance #high fantasy #fantasy oc #whump series