Visual/Vocal Aid://VAs//orcs// ref for memory dat.file retrieval://
PERSONAL theory// dissociation occurs during high stress situations because the brain is taking in So Much Information about the Current Event that is Currently Happening, that The Eyes and other Senses are temporarily shut down [[like pain receptors]] and the brain, firing in "lizard brain" Survival Mode, and the body can only move Reactively, as it is disabled from Forming a Response [[left brain Martial Law has been declared?]] according to the onslaught of Data being recieved by firing neurons. the brain is lit up like a fucking christmas tree with neuro surges, but shiitttttt they got nowhere to go!!! bc ur brain is Not functioning. your survival instincts are all you've got. and those instincts are shaped by relatable experiences that Vessel [[in the Current Event]] can "recal", both sonsciously Connecting The Dots (("i have Connected The Dots" "you didn't comnect Shit" "I've Connected Them"))
and in-real-time://neurons vs. biofeedback: your neuro plasticity expanding?live-tweeting neurofeedback to every cell in your body the following message: "AAAGGHH!!!!! THE BODY IS ABOUT TO BE TERMINATED ⚠️ PREPARE FOR BOTH OF TWO OPTIONS: Survival or Death. ACCEPT." and your cells and atoms and muscles and senses all reply unquestioningly
Arbiter://Lenes://colonised natives//culture destroyed by the religion of The Forerunners [[Vocal Aid: "The Foreigners"]] returning his allegiance to his people, and away from The Covenant//*optional lens://Halo Oracles//GuiltySpark// he basically asks a Covenant member "all that information is from My Time? does that make Me a relic?" //Oracles as self aware AI// "i am a Tool." "i can see why the Forerunners could use my Records as...👀 Divine Inspiration👀.... I fear you[r species] is not very smart. is it not Convenient for the Forerunners ..."
[[right brain imagination ideas weaving through left brain logic centres, no access to cerebral cortex]]//therefore:// Imagined Reality = Reality. but it isn't Reality if it hasn't been "manifested" INto Reality by placing it physically* outside The Body and into The World.
AI://unable to access, and therefore unable to conceptualise Absolute Reality within BinaryCode [[1's&0's]]//consciousness requires a Vessel capable of nueronic biofeedback. Question:// can base coding [C++ or whatever]] predict Every Possible outcome to dissuade neurofeedback?//doubtful.
theory:// the human body is too OP. like we'd be an unstoppable species if we had more time of day to Think and Ask Questions. but under Capitalism, which exists in the Reality of the Economy, which only exists in the reality of money/currency//transactional vs. reciprocal models of exchange. therefore://money is part of Reality but it does not need to be Absolute. capitalism can't exist outside without the Foundation of Imaginated Needs. //Advertisements//marketing/deceptive language//sheep/shepherd//god&man//
In the merkstave/reverse:// Dissociative Systems and individuals with CDDs [[Complex Dissociative Disorders]] are capable of expanding on the biofeedback theory by speaking directly to TheBody/Vessel. when physically spoken aloud, hrtz. frequencies become involved//self soothing//neurofeedback being passively sent as an input command to Self Sooth the body//similar to newborns hearing their mother's Voice[hrtz] on the Outside for the first time vs Inside her womb[//hrtz]]. //VocalAid//stimulating biofeedback by passive nueron expansion sent by verbally articulating Thought into Words/Language/Concepts.
neurons firing = oracles [[DW orcs]] searching your brains dat.files for memory retrieval//relating Past Experiences with Current Events//Relating Out Of Context [[rooc]]//:
> dat.file retrieval Visual/Vocal Aids://
recap questions://
"it's not about what you forget, it's about what you (do] remember."
so what Do you remember about Events. close your eyes and PlayBack⏮://[[Halo//analytics://data📊/influence🗝💭://]]
what DO you see vs what do you not see?
://⚠️💭📊👀 systems be CAUTIOUS doing this with flashbacks. grey-matter access is unpredictable at BEST. and you don't know what you've missed in memories you've "remembered" a million times 👀 personal experience: it's like being psychologically waterboarded
what are you being Advertised? vs whatRU being Marketed? vs what are you Buying? and what Sold you on the Idea of that Transaction? 👀📊💭
I recommend not looking at this if/ when regressed!
This is a little rant for littles & caregivers who struggle with hyper-sexuality, sexual flashbacks, intrusive thoughts, etc!
Tw!!: mentions of age play, very brief mention of csa(?), intrusive thoughts while regressed.
This is sfw, I do not personally understand/ participate in any nsfw/ age play, I am a minor.
The day that more of the Agere community is a bit more accepting to people whose regression isn’t completely and 100 percent “innocent” all the time without getting accused of having an age play kink or “sexualizing” age regression, is the day I rest.
As someone who experiences intrusive and impulsive thoughts that I cannot control, it sucks. I cannot just “stop thinking like that”, the more you try and repress those icky thoughts, the more they frequent. Repressing something is never good.
Also, as someone who’s been through some (brief) sexual experiences when I was little plus, was gifted unrestricted internet access—Sometimes when I happen to be regressed and I remember that or I’m experiencing/ reliving a bad moment—my body gets confused and reacts sometimes. And you know what? That’s okay.
Sometimes our brains can be mean. It sucks, I know. But it’s not your fault. It’s something that happens, it’s natural. You’re not gross for your mind getting confused sometimes and feeling things without wanting to. You’re not gross for reacting how you reacted to past trauma. You’re not gross for your body reacting to something involuntary. You’re not gross for your mind making up something you don’t agree with. You’re not gross if you think of adult things while regressed involuntarily/without wanting to.
Remember lovebug, your regression is yours.
It doesn’t have to fit a specific mold, and you’re not “icky” or “gross” for experiencing something you can’t control.
You still deserve to heal the way you choose to heal, regardless of what other people say.
Content: broken bones, intimate whumper, medical whump, ptsd, brief needle & drug mention.
A whumpee with broken ankles desperately crawling for the door, clawing at it uselessly after whumper has slammed it shut, sobbing and begging to be let go.
Or trying to crawl away from whumper, painfully dragging their limp, broken bones along the floor behind them.
An amused whumper sitting and watching it happen, laughing at whumpee’s pathetic attempts to get away, knowing that whenever they’ve decided their captive has gotten far enough, they can yank them back by the chain around their neck and drag them back over with ease. What’re they gonna do, fight back?
Whumpee being forced to rely on whumper for every little thing despite loathing them with every fiber of their being.
Whumper having to carry them everywhere (bridal style)
Bonus points if it’s an intimate whumper and they scoop them up and coo sweet things into whumpee’s ear all “aw, poor sweet thing, don’t worry, I’ve got you,” While whumpee sobs hopelessly into their captor’s chest, disgusted with the closeness and absolutely horrified and ashamed at how helpless they feel like this.
Or maybe whumpee tries to claw their way out of their captor’s arms, and whumper just drops them, laughing at how useless and pathetic they look when they collapse in a crying heap on the floor, unable to go anywhere without whumper’s help.
More bonus points if the bones don’t heal properly and they can never walk quite right again, or if standing or walking for too long causes sharp pains to shoot up through their ankles and they collapse from the agony.
If they ever get a recovery arc, having to get their ankles rebroken and reset to heal properly— The sensation of their ankles breaking all over again bringing back horribly traumatic flashbacks, feeling like they’re back with whumper again, that they’re being tortured again, until they’re screaming and begging and calling the doctors sir and sobbing desperately to be let go. The medical staff is horrified.
And maybe they’re writhing around and thrashing so much that they have to be restrained and sedated in order for the medical staff to reset their freshly broken bones.
A nurse jamming a needle into their neck and emptying an entire syringe into their bloodstream with an “It’s alright, sweetheart, this is for your own good.”
Whumpee in a full-scale flashback begging through tears when they feel the needle, “please, please no— please sir, please don’t, please don’t do this— I— I’ve been good— please I— I can’t—please-“ until the sedative kicks in and their head lolls to the side.
Feel free to add your own prompts/ thoughts! this trope won’t leave my head rn
A/N: So, this little piece, inspired by this lovely fanart by @vamp4rebatscave (I dearly hope neither you nor the commissioner mind!) has been sitting in my drafts forever, and what is this blog even for if I never post anything I write, so... Enjoy?
(Title from D'Angelo by Diablo Swing Orchestra.)
--
"So? What do you think?"
"Hm." Armand crooked a critical eyebrow at the screen and then picked up the device from Lestat's hand as if to verify his assessment with closer scrutiny.
"I've seen better."
With that, he rolled onto his back and stretched languidly like a lazy housecat; back arching, fingers spreading. With a dull thunk, the phone fell onto the plush carpet.
"Insolent imp," Lestat hissed around a grin tugging at his mouth as he drank in the sight: auburn curls fanned out like a rusty halo on the maroon silk, the arched brows, the dark eyes sparking with challenge.
With one lithe motion, he got up on his hands and knees and crawled over Armand's body and made as if to reach for the fallen device – but then stopped, and let his hair fall forward to tickle Armand's face, earning a deeply unamused look which only made him grin wider.
"Brat," Armand countered, and then, lightning-fast, buried a hand in his hair and pulled him down to nuzzle his nose into the underside of his jaw, lips brushing against his hammering pulse.
He froze – only for a second, undecided – and then lifted his head to grin down again while one hand drifted over Armand's chest, deftly undoing the buttons of his shirt. Armand watched him, eyes dark and cheeks flushed; his beauty bewitchingly mortal, belying the hungry darkness beneath.
A spattering of freckles adorned his pale chest, right between two rosy, peaked nipples. He could not help himself – he leaned down to press a kiss to the cool, smooth skin. The hand in his hair shifted, into something of a caress. He took it as encouragement and kissed him again, nails dragging lightly over his exposed ribs.
Armand squirmed and hissed softly, both hands now tightening in his hair. He chuckled deeply, pressing his lips to his throat while flicking one hard nipple with his thumb.
"Figlio di puttana!"
And then he was on his back, Armand straddling his hips, nails digging into his chest through his shirt, cheeks rosy and eyes wild. His own hands drifted to Armand's narrow waist, thumbs caressing his hipbones.
"What a dirty mouth you have on you, chèri."
But Armand was... somewhere else, even he could tell. Under the spell of some evil memory, perhaps, lost somewhere within the centuries of dust and darkness, or beyond. He dared not look.
Chèri?
No, no. That wasn’t right. Not this time.
“Caro?” His thumbs resumed the soothing motion. “Torna da me, carissimo.”
Slowly, focus returned to Armand’s blown pupils and his fingers loosened from his shirt. His claws had torn through the thin fabric. Ah, but he had others.
With careful movements, Lestat tugged him down and framed his face, his beautiful doll’s face, between his hands. Armand's hands, in turn, slipped under his shredded shirt as if seeking warmth, coming to rest over his racing heart.
