#Have I ever told you you are like Dopamin?

[staticofthetv]

Take two!

Favourite frames from the new B-Side chapter, featuring some analysis because I have coherent thoughts this time 'round :D

Beware, spoilers below for the B-Side as well as the manga

@veiled-bird that goes for you too, you're nowhere near meeting this guy yet

First up, I love this chapters art. It reminds me of when I was little and asking my dad to help my brother and I beat the last level of episode 3 in lego star wars tcs

Also the chapter title? I have so many thoughts, they'll be discussed more in depth further down but they will be discussed /pos

Numbers weapon 1 mention!! I'm very excited to (hopefully) get more lore about it. Although I am curious if it's like a contact lens or something, I thought it was closer to a surgical implant or maybe some weird side effect from using numbers weapon 1. Mostly because I don't think he's been drawn with normal eyes yet in the manga (at least from what I remember)

Either way very much hoping we get some more numbers weapon 1 lore in this :)

This whole scene but specifically "what good does a test proving I'm abnormal do" hits so hard, especially as someone diagnosed with ADHD in my late teens. Having that feeling of there's something wrong with me for so long and being brushed off every time because I didn't act like the stereotypical 10 year old boy with severe ADHD (a psychiatrist literally told me and my mum i probably had adhd but she wouldnt diagnose me,) I did start to kind of give up on ever figuring it out.

Narumi was incredibly relatable to me in the main manga (not because I'm a badass, I'm very lame lmao) because of the behaviours he exhibits, hyperfocusing on games, constant dopamine seeking (through videogames and online shopping,) needing to be fiddling with something to better process the information being given out, etc.

Narumi is also incredibly smart, its stated explicitly that he got top scores in the entrance exam and I can't imagine those tests are anywhere near easy. It gives neurodivergent kid being told they just need to apply themselves to do better in school/make friends/just function in a neurotypical way in general.

This also comes from his being kicked out of several orphanages, and then even after joining the defence force (especially after being told by Isao that they take anyone that can show skills and results) getting kicked out by the second division and every platoon in the first until he ends up under hasegawa. Considering the title too this is 100% supposed to read as the classic "troubled kid" (many of which are neurodivergent) that not many are willing to put effort into helping. Isao is giving him a way out of the life of having no home to go back to, only to be struck with the threat of getting kicked out once again a year later. Narumi is a very skilled and capable fighter and no one in their right mind would argue with that and it once again all comes down to being labelled as too difficult, hard to work with, never paying attention

This chapter just hits so close to home with me

Baby Mina!! I know there's a decent amount if it in the manga but it's still weird to see her with short hair. I love her so much

There are many more words of appreciation I have but all thought went into dissecting Narumi's character lol

And so being kicked around by hasegawa begins

I love his face here, top tier expression

And here we see Isao solidifying the thought of skill and results being all that matters, there's no way Isao was going to let Narumi get kicked out, especially not after showing aptitude for handling numbers weapon 1. I like to think at this point he does also care for Narumi, I think he sees a lot of Kikoru (or what she could be) in him and especially he sees himself in Narumi. And even though he's only ranked captain Isao would clearly fight to keep Narumi on the force (he probably already had to for Narumi to get transferred to the first division instead of just being dropped when he didn't mesh with the second)

This is also the beginning of Isao and Narumi's mentor/mentee relationship, Isao knows exactly how to handle Narumi and his child prodigy-ness and help him reach his potential as a defence force officer. I think that's part of why Isao shows little care for how Narumi handles himself when off duty, it may be that he knows he can't change Narumi in that way, it may be that he himself just doesn't care for all the professional decorum, either way Isao plays the very important role of being Narumi's main support while he's in the defence force (until Isao dies anyway, whoops.) Narumi needed a space where he could not only be himself but be accepted for it and have the trust of his peers and superiors that he would get the job done when he needs to, and whether it was on purpose or not Isao provided exactly that for him.

This also ties back into the earlier ramble about Narumi being the typical undiagnosed neurodivergent "troubled kid"

(Also the origin of what Narumi says to Kikoru ~9 years in the future :D)

Omg jaeger is canon? Kaiju no. 8 and pacific rim crossover when? /j

Another interesting tidbit about Narumi is his self confidence, he knows he's capable and isn't afraid to tell people that. He says playing support is annoying but what I see is someone that knows he can do better placed somewhere else and has decided to take that into his own hands. He won't get kicked out of the defense force but I wouldn't be surprised if he gets into a shit ton of trouble for taking Isao's words to heart and disregarding his orders, even though I do think he'll be an asset to the battle and perform better being closer to the front lines.

Poor hasegawa has his work cut out for him keeping Narumi in check (a captain and vice-captain match made in hell)

#kaiju no. 8 #kn8 #gen narumi #kaiju no. 8 b side #i love this goofball #theres no way hes neurotypcial #and i have so many thoughts about it #just look at him #he probably listens to mcr #skrunkle teenager #feat. mina isao and hasegawa #theyre all great #i only have the braincells for one character analysis tho #tumblr deleted the original post before it could finish uploading so this is my second attempt #please work i will cry if it gets deleted again #i have thoughts #and they need to be shared

[homunculus-argument]

As a kid, I wasn't taught any concept that there's a difference between wanting to do something, and enjoying it. I was a largely unsupervised kid with undiagnosed ADHD and parents who expected their kids to just raise themselves on their own. So when I was capable of spending hours drawing or reading a fun book, but couldn't even remember that I had homework, ever, I was told that I simply didn't want to do well in school. And who was I to question that, I'm eight years old.

Enjoyment and passion were the only forms of motivation I knew, and if I couldn't make myself either love doing boring math homework as much as I loved my hobbies, or force myself to push through things I hated with sheer willpower alone because I want to succeed so bad, then clearly I was simply not as good as all the other kids, who could do that. And that attitude carried onto adulthood. Every time I struggled to muster genuine love and passion into something, I thought that I just don't want it badly enough. Not to enough to love it, or to suffer through it.

Being medicated for the first time was a game changer. Like holy shit, so this is your brain on dopamine. And suddenly I wanted to do things, turned my life around, took up the passion career I had never dared to try. And when the first "honeymoon phase" of the meds wore down, the same fear came back - I don't like this anymore, do I not want it bad enough? What else could I possibly want?

And I shit you not I was literally 30 years old when I understood that life isn't just either loving every minute of pursuing a passion that you love, or joylessly dragging yourself through things that you don't even want to do. I can just tell myself "just because I don't like doing this doesn't mean I don't want to be doing it." It's not a mark of failure, weakness or lack of motivation, if sometimes the career you want to be doing just feels like having a job.

[sweatervest-obsessed]

Reader at the bar with the BAU and Spencer Reid, being really protective over him. Spence gets a little drunk, (I know it’s OOC but just imagine he let go for once!!!) and ends up laying in the booth with his head in reader’s chest and starts rambling to her, and the BAU tell him to shut up, but reader’s just like “no, keep talking.” While stroking his hair and he just looks up at her with an intoxicated, adoring, innocent look.

I love it.

Personally, I feel like is Spencer felt safe enough, he absolutely would drink. I don't think it happens often but...

Thank you for requesting!

"You're like, really pretty." Spencer whispered in your ear.

You smiled brightly and squeezed his thigh as you continued to talk with Derek across the table from you.

"I don't think you get told enough. "

Pausing your conversation meant that Spencer could now get full time attention from you, instead of this half-assed bullshit.

He took the pause as him moment to lay down across the booth and place his head in your lap.

"Uh Spence?"

"Mhm?"

"What are you doing?"

"Getting comfy."

You closed your eyes and shook your head. "Okay...but why."

He shrugged and kept his eyes closed. You took the opportunity to start running your hands through his hair, slightly massaging his head in the process.

"God I love you." He sighed out, contently.

"I love you too nerd. Anything else or can I finish talking to Derek."

Spencer scoffed, but didn't move.

"Okay my little lightweight."

"I don't think I've ever seen him drink, let alone get this drunk."

"Well Derek." You smiled up at him. "You get used to it."

"Used to it? Excuse you. I don't get this drunk often---" Spencer went to go sit up but you used your hand to gently shove him back down into your lap.

"Stay there champ. I'm not ready to deal with you vomiting just quite yet."

Spencer huffed but didn't move again, confirming your suspicion that getting up made him nauseous.

"Did you know that vomiting is a protective reflex, not just from choking hazards, but to expel viruses, bacteria, and parasites from your body."

You took another sip of your drink and nodded. "A parasite huh."

"Jesus Reid, some of us are drinking or eating here my god."

You reached over and flicked Derek in the arm, causing him to jump and grumbled at you.

"Don't be a dick Morgan."

"My hero." Spencer whispered from his place on your lap, before bursting into a fit of laughter, causing you to smile too.

Morgan, who had enough, gave you a quick (but sincere) smile, and left the booth, leaving the two of you alone.

"Now what were you saying there Spence."

Spencer pondered for a moment, losing his train of thought when your hand returned to his hair.

"D-Did you know dopamine is the hormone responsible for making decisions."

You hummed, and continued to run your hands through his hair. "I don't think I did, but it makes sense."

"Well it is also..."

"Also what Spencer."

"Have I ever told you about the history of alcohol? In Ancient Babylon they used to worship a wine goddess in as early as 2700 bce."

"I can do you one better Spence."

He scoffed. "Yeah okay sure. Derek doesn't call me Boy Genius for nothin." He grumbled.

"Well there's evidence of alcohol as early as 7000 bce in Ancient China."

"Well duh! I knew that....I just, uh, skipped forward, yeah..."

"Okay handsome. Tell me more about this wine goddess and the Ancient Babylonians."

Spencer would have spent the rest of his life with his head in your lap, and your hands in his hair, rambling off to you about anything and everything.

You would have spent the rest of your life with his head in your lap and your hands in his hair, listening.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid angst #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid fluff #dr spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert

[hybridirl]

who first?

18+ only, please!

ellie x f!loser!reader x abby

a/n: sorry for the long wait! i was with my family the past week celebrating a holiday :)!! now i’m back and i’m gonna try and pump out a few. i am in fact working on the ellie x loser!reader pt2, so pls bear with me! i’m still thinking up ideas. this shit is harddd

brief summary: ellie and abby are the bestest of friends, and you’re… there. they kinda feel bad for you, so they bring home some of the “good shit” for a game. never have i ever? with shots. reversed. haven’t done it? drink!!!

tw / AU, *DUBCON* (reader is drunk (but so is ellie and abby)), strap-on, use of y/n, cunnilingus (r and e receiving), tit-slapping, porn no plot, rushed sex, threesome, reader gets referred to as “girl”

ᡣ𐭩

watching tiktoks for hours on end was never your proudest pastime, especially when your two roommates were constantly out partying. you, honestly, were a third wheel. well, to be fair, you came into this friendship way after these two had already been established as this inseparable duo. still, being a friend - even if it’s not as deep - doesn’t mean you should be excluded from their little activities.

so, this is how your night has gone so far: moping around, trying to bake some cookies you found on tiktok, and binging tiktok. you sat on the island of the kitchen, a frown plastered on your face as you munched on your fifth cookie.

you glanced at the clock: 11:35 PM. you knew exactly what this meant; one of them is slutting themselves out while the other waits to drive themselves home. god, how it aggravated you! - how easily they could get into someone’s pants by just looking at them while you had to ease your way into it. that slow, smooth talking you, except it rarely ever worked and you came off as a creep. the pickup lines from reddit don’t seem to work in reality, huh?

pulling yourself off the counter and shoving the last piece of cookie into your mouth, you wondered why you stayed up until they came back. maybe you were just a little afraid to go to sleep alone, maybe you were just simply lonely. you wanted them to come home, tell you about their day and get envious at their friendship that you weren’t in on and that you didn’t have. poor you. you were like a watchdog, always staying up and looking out until your ‘owners’ came along, praising you for your good work so you could get your little dopamine rush. you even whimpered, just a little, as you sat on the couch to watch some cheesy drama movie that you had zero interest in. about thirty minutes in, the door opens. you turn your head and watch your two acquaintances walk in, both holding a suspiciously shaped brown bag.

“hey,” you greet, “what’re those?” you pointed toward the bags in their hands.

“just stuff for you,” ellie chirped first, setting the bag on the coffee table.

“us, she means,” abby cut in, setting hers down. you watched as they revealed what was shielded from her viewing: two tall bottles of ‘devil’s spring vodka.’

you cocked your head to the side and spoke, “for us? what for?” they gave you a ‘what do you think?’ look before ellie headed off to get three shot glasses. she placed one in front of you, abby, and herself.

“so, y/n,” abby began, popping the top and pouring some into each glass. “we know you’re lonely and we thought we’d do something for you, huh? sound good?” you pursed your lips and nodded, completely weirded out by this interaction.

“we’re gonna play a game,” ellie said, circling her glass with her hands. “it’s like ‘never have i ever.’ ever played?” you nodded. “good. so, each time someone says something you haven’t done, you take a shot. got it?” you nod again. “a—lright, you guys ready?” abby smiles and raises her hand.

“i’ll go first,” she told, an obvious mischievous glint in her eye, “let’s start of tame. so, y/n, have you ever… kissed someone in public? i’m not talking a little peck, i’m talking seriously making out.” your face heated, and your jaw dropped just slightly. you thought about lying, of course, just to seem cool, but, you knew they’d know.

“i-i… no, i haven’t,” you muttered out, shakily reaching your hand toward your glass. you took a sip, wincing at the burn in your throat.

“c’mon, y/n, the whole thing,” ellie chuckled at your ministrations. you whimpered silently before your head tilted back, gulping the rest down.

“ugh,” you groaned as you set it down and watched as ellie pour more into your glass. you had a feeling this was going to be a long night.

“okay, my turn,” ellie giggled, looking at the two of you. “okay, y/n, have you ever… had someone motorboat you?” your brows furrowed immediately.

“m-motorboat? i, well, um… no.”

“drink up then, girl.” they watched as you took another brave shot, your face contorting into what looked like pain, and, to be fair, it was painful.

you were about to speak, for your turn, but abby interrupted quickly, barely even noticing your open mouth, “my turn, huh?” abby questioned. your jaw shut right back up, letting her take the lead. letting her do her thing. “so, y/n, ever, i don’t know, let’s get a little crazier with this one, yeah? ever been in a threesome?”

you stared at abby with wide eyes, why are they asking you this stuff? why only you?

“no…” you whispered, continuing your stare on her as you went to take yet another shot. you were already starting to feel a buzz, already starting to feel the heat in your tummy. with a slightly clouded head, you turned to ellie. she was smirking, her eyes knowing as her lips parted once more.

“how about you give it a go?” ellie asked you, and you felt some relief.

“h-have you guys ever, um… have you guys ever… had a threesome?” you asked in a low voice. you watched abby roll her eyes and go to grab her glass, as with ellie.

“o—kay, my turn,” ellie clasped her hands together, after setting her glass back down, “ever taken it up the ass, y/n?”

“why are you only asking me?” you gawked, reaching for your glass. you took the next shot, and felt a sudden need for more.

“because we already know what we’ve did,” abby replied, another shot of the vodka slithering down her throat. “mm, that’s some good shit. so, y/n, have you ever topped?” you sighed as you reached for the glass once more. “oh, so you’re a bottom? figures. i mean, look at you.” you looked up at her, slightly offended whilst your hands went to pour yourself another shot.

“have you guys ever, uh, had public… sex?” you found yourself boldly asking, obvious that this drink was getting to you. they both raised their glasses to their lips.

this went on and on, mostly them asking you, you sometimes asking them until you were all drunk out of your minds.

“y/n,” ellie finally groaned and she scooted closer to you. you hadn’t realized the proximity of them both, slowly decreasing as the night went on. you hummed a response, your eyes half closed and your face hot. “h’ve you ever, uh, fantasized? about us?” ellie asked, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth. your hand didn’t reach for the glass, rather you simply stared into those green eyes. “yeah? you have? why didn’t you tell us? we coulda’ made all of your dreams come true, sweetheart,” she whispered, her hand meeting your waist.

“i-i was n-nervous,” you whined, “didn’ wanna say anythin’…”

“y/n, baby,” abby purred into your ear, “you don’ gotta be nervous ‘round us.” your head throbbed as you bit your lip; their hands explored your body, slowly molding you into your arousal. you wondered if this was their plan all along as their fingers danced around your PJs, caressing your inner thighs…

“please,” you whispered and their eyes flickered toward you. “…t-touch me…” you sighed blissfully as ellie’s hand finally met with your pajama-clad vulva. abby’s head dipped into the crook of your neck; she kissed up your neck and throat, then tilted your head toward hers to kiss your lips. sloppily, her tongue slipped into your mouth, prodding and massaging your tongue. your own mingled with hers, dancing around each other’s. you barely noticed your bottoms being tugged down, only realizing once the chill of the air hit your heat.

“lemme taste ‘er first,” abby said quickly as she pulled away from your swollen lips.

“no,” ellie whined, tugging your body toward hers.

“it was my idea,” she growled in return, “now let me have her first.” ellie huffed, but let go. she took asylum in your breasts; lifting your shirt up, she immediately dove into your mounds. she licked up to your nipple, taking it between her lips. you let out a broken moan as she nibbled on your sensitive bud, her tongue swirling around your pebbling nipples.

abby slid your legs open with her hands, spreading your labia with her thumb.

“how long h’ve you been this wet, y/n?” an obvious rhetorical question. you were too occupied with ellie and the worship of your breasts.

“a’w-while,” you managed to croak, though. you heard her chuckle and felt your body being tugged toward her more. “mmf, abby, be gentle…” ellie watched as abby’s head dipped between your legs, then her eyes flickered to your face to watch it contort in pleasurable expressions. “abby… ngh…” your hand reached to tug at her blonde hair, earning a groan from her lips.

“i heard she’s a p-pro,” ellie whispered to you while she tugged off her bottoms. your eyes fluttered, staring dazed at the sight of her pussy.

“want,” you purred out. ellie only smirked at you, her hands moving in to shove you down onto the couch. her legs straddled your head and she lowered herself onto you without warning, virtually smothering you. “mmf!” your brows were furrowed, your nose smooshed against her wet cunt. she ground her hips into your face, covering it in her slick.

“c’mon, y/n, thought you wanted it.” your doe eyes kept gazing up at her and you began to do the best you could with her weight in your face, your tongue working hard against her swollen clit.

both of the feelings were intoxicating, abby at your pussy, you at ellie’s. your legs tightened around abby’s head as her fingers found your g-spot, thrusting her fingers in and out of you. you moan into ellie, slurping at the nectar leaking from her. you’re so intoxicated, you can’t tell if it’s from the alcohol or this delicious feeling. your hands gripped ellie’s sides and you pulled her closer. you were whimpering, moaning, abby’s tongue wriggling into you, her fingernails digging into your plush thighs.

“mmm!” you cried, your eyes shutting as you felt a knot in your stomach begin to uncoil, your juices coating abby’s tongue and face.

“ahn, yeah,” abby groaned. “righ’ on my tongue, sweethear’.” your eyes were rolling, face scrunched in pleasure. it was a sure sight for ellie, drawing - no, forcing ellie’s own climax to follow suit. her arousal painted you, creaming on your face as she held your head close to her.

“oh, god, please please please — fuck!”

she ground against you, riding her orgasm out in your face. her clit bumped your nose, and your hands gripped her hips, slowly guiding her to a halt as she came down. as she got up from you, she took a moment to admire her work. your face looked so exhausted, wet with her, and needy for more.

“abby,” ellie said, “g-go get the…” she gestured into the direction of the bedrooms, then abby knew what she was talking about. she made her way into one the bedrooms, who knows which, and rummaged through. you watched the hallway curiously, ready for her arrival. you tried to sit up, but ellie only grabbed you, laying you down on her thighs. when abby came out, you were surprised to find her pant-less, and with a harness strapped to her person, not to mention a dildo hanging from it. she approached, slow and cautious steps. you couldn’t tell if she was trying to tease you or try to get you into the idea.

“you wan’ it?” she asked you, slowly crawling into the sofa, then nudging and prodding your wetness with the head.

“wan’ it.”

“alrigh’, sweet girl,” she breathed, easing the head into your slippery entrance. “good?” you nodded your head, egging her on silently.

“abby,” you moaned breathlessly. she shushed you, halting her movements so you could get used to her. she ran her rough hands down your sides, down, down, to your clit, gently rubbing it to make you feel some sort of goodness as she stood still. “move, please,” you whimpered.

“y/n, you should see ‘yer face right now,” ellie giggled, caressing the side of your head. “god, y’so pretty. fuck ‘er, abby, hurry. look at ‘er face.” abby rolled her eyes, not usually taking commands. she was going to anyway, but…

“oh!” you gasped from her sudden movements, a tight snap from her hips. “f-fuck!”

“mmm, ‘n moans so pretty,” ellie praised, “didn’ get to hear ‘ya so well when you were under me. gettin’ smothered by my pussy... mhm…” she caressed your face again, cupping your cheeks as abby began to pound you.

“abby!” you cried to her, eyes shut tight, hands flailing to find somewhere to rest. they found abby’s biceps, gripping them tightly as she slapped her hips against yours. “please, ngh!” you grit your teeth, jaw clenched while pleasure overtook you.

“eyes open,” abby growled, “‘n on me.” you had to fight yourself to open your eyes, but the sight in front of you was perfect. abby’s blonde hair sticking to her forehead, her braid dangling and swinging with each thrust, her slack jaw, fuck. “yeah, ‘atta girl.” she was thrusting just right, obviously so experienced. it was pleasing her, too, the strap hitting just right at her swollen clit.

how badly you wanted to touch her body, worship her like you did quietly with her eyes. she was like a greek god, muscular and sculpted so perfectly. especially now, sweat marbling her skin and her chiseled body over yours. you almost forgot ellie was there, being as (almost) quiet as she was. glancing up, you caught sight of her, her fingers buried into her cunt. the sight alone was enough to make you cum once more, but you couldn’t, not so early. you looked back up at the deity above you who was staring into your eyes.

“abby,” you groaned. you threw your head back, going dumb on her cock. “right there… f-please…” cross-eyed, you sobered up a little as you felt a harsh pain on your breasts. “oh!” you gasped, feeling her large hand slap your chest. “abby!”

“take my cock, girl,” abby panted, hands squeezing your breasts, using them as leverage as she continued her pounding.

“fu—ck,” ellie groaned to the sight of you and to the noise of her fingers in her cunt, squelching, obscene, and loud. “y’doing so good, y/n… yes… uhn!”

you ran your hand up abby’s biceps, wrapping your arms around her neck. this prompted her to lean in and kiss your lips, deep and hungry. your hand cupped her cheek, pulling her close while your lips collided. abby pulled away first to admire your body and you took this moment to lift your arms above your head, desperately trying to pull ellie closer by her legs. she scoot closer and you cocked your head to the side, immediately licking at her cunt.

“yeah,” abby moaned, feeling the beginnings of her orgasm. “lick ‘er fuckin’ pussy.” she gripped your waist, hurriedly thrusting into you, her clot bumping against the harness. “fuck, i’m cumming!” she moaned, collapsing onto you as she came. she kissed at your neck, bit at it, too, while she continued to thrust, needing you to cum, too. her fingers finding your clit, furiously rubbing it.

you couldn’t help it anymore; biting into ellie’s thigh, you came. squirted, actually. all over her cock, all over her abdomen. your body was convulsing, shaking and twitching for her. ellie followed in suit, your teeth pushing her over the edge as they sunk deeper into her. all three of you were moaning, crying, holding each other tight.

“fuck,” you were the first to say. abby slowly pulled out of you, panting deeply.

“you squirted,” abby chuckled with admiration. she squeezed your thighs and glanced up at ellie, “all good?” she asked. ellie nodded.

“yeah, just,” she sighed blissfully, “fuck. we should do this again.” you giggled and kissed ellie’s thigh.

“mhm,” you agreed.

maybe your (sex?) life has just changed for the better.

#hybridirl .𖥔 ݁ ˖ #lesbian #bisexual #abby anderson x reader smut #ellie williams x reader smut #abbyanderson #ellie williams #tlou smut #tlou2 #tlou2 x reader smut #abby x reader smut #ellie x reader smut #abby x reader #ellie x reader #tlou x reader #tlou x reader smut #the last of us smut #the last of us x reader #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby tlou #abby tlou2 #ellie #ellie tlou x reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader x abby #abby x reader x ellie #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams smut #abby anderson smut

[moonstruckme]

Hi Mae!! I saw that you were interested in writing for spencer and I’d love to request something for him! Maybe something with bau!reader and spencer have been secretly dating and he slips in front of the team and calls her a pet name or something and the team is just like :o bc they didn’t think spencer would have it in him to go after her!

Yes he's my babygirl! Thanks so much for requesting sweetheart <3

Spencer Reid x bau!reader ♡ 533 words

There’s a little extra bounce in your step as you come through the doors this morning, your ponytail swinging behind you and a giant tupperware container in your hands. 

“Good morning,” Morgan says, interest piqued. “What’ve you got there?”

You beam. Spencer’s day is instantly better. “Cupcakes!” You set the container down on the table, removing the lid. “I made chocolate and strawberry.” 

Garcia squeals, lunging for them. “I’ve told you you’re my favorite, right? Because you are.” 

Morgan turns to her with an indignant look, but Garcia only takes a bite of her strawberry cupcake, holding it up as if to say What do you want me to do?

You’re practically glowing, your smile bashful but poorly contained as a faint flush spreads across your face. You look adorable, so clearly elated at brightening everyone’s morning, and Spencer can’t help but smile with you. He reaches into the container. 

“Hey,” he says, “why are only some of the chocolate ones frosted?” 

Your blush worsens. “Oh, um. I know you don’t like frosting, and chocolate’s usually your favorite, so…”

An invisible hand grips his heart and squeezes. Or no, he knows what this is. His hypothalamus is releasing dopamine, causing his blood vessels to constrict. It’s improving his focus and spiking his blood pressure, and making him feel all warm and happy. It’s probably also why he wants to hug you so badly. 

“It is. Thanks, honey,” he says, nearly breathless. 

Your eyes widen, and though your smile doesn’t go away, it becomes tinged by shyness. “Spence,” you whisper, but it’s only when Emily clears her throat that he realizes what he’s done. 

He turns, unfrosted chocolate cupcake in hand, to find Garcia gaping at him and Morgan and JJ looking like he’s just made their day. Hotch and Rossi, of course, appear completely unphased. 

“Well look at you, pretty boy.” Morgan grins approvingly, eyebrows raised. “I didn’t think you had it in you. How long has this been going on?”

Garcia makes a flustered squawking sound. “I’m sorry, you knew?” She slaps Morgan’s arm. “How could you not tell me?”

“I didn’t know for sure, shortcake,” Morgan replies placatingly. “Honestly, I didn’t think Reid would ever work up the guts to go after her.” 

“Hey,” Spencer says, and he sees you giving Morgan a chastising look in his periphery. Never mind that you’d asked him out. You’d only beat him to it. 

“It’s only been a couple of weeks,” you say, answering Morgan’s first question and pointedly declining to comment on the rest. 

“I can’t believe it!” Garcia gushes, fanning her hands about her face. “Look at you lovebirds, all blushy! You’re so cute together.” 

JJ smiles, grabbing a strawberry cupcake and holding it up like she’s toasting with it. “Congratulations, you two.” 

“If you’re all done gossiping,” Rossi says, and you’re already moving for your seat, chastised and eager to vacate the center of attention, “can we start?”

JJ rolls her eyes, going to the front of the room and turning on the screen. Spencer takes a seat beside you, knee bumping into yours amicably. You okay? Your hand finds his under the table, intertwining your fingers and squeezing gently. Perfectly. 

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x self insert #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fandom #bau!reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic

[thebibliosphere]

"But you're so successful without it."

Content warning: This post contains mentions of suicidal ideation.

I got a message earlier tonight that I'm not going to post, but I did ask the person involved if I could talk about what we subsequently ended up talking about in DMs because I feel it's important.

Basically, it was along the lines of "My kid got diagnosed with ADHD and really wants to try meds. I know from reading your blog that correct treatment for ADHD can be really beneficial, but I just don't think she's severe enough to need them."

The message then went on to ask me, as someone who is unmedicated with ADHD, for some tricks and tips on how to be successful without medication because clearly, look how well I'm doing without them. I mean, look at my blog, look at my book(s)! Surely if I can do all that without ADHD meds, other people can too. Surely there's a trick. A skill. Something you can learn if you just try hard enough...

This is not the first time I have received a message like this. In fact, I probably get about 2-5 messages like this a week.

Usually from other people who also have ADHD/suspect ADHD but don't want medication because they don't think they need it/don't want to need it, and yet can't figure out why they're struggling so much, and ask me how do I do the thing(s) and cope so well and get so much done, etc., etc.

So I'm going to tell you what I told this person tonight in case it helps someone. Yes, I have ADHD. No, I am not medicated due to severe health complications, and yes, I get a lot done. From the outside, I am sure it looks incredibly productive and successful. But I'm going to let you in on what that success feels like.

It feels like dying.

It feels like my brain is on fire; every nerve in my body scraped raw; every part of me wired and exposed to the noise of the world. There is no quiet; there is no calm. And even when my brain does fall silent, it's another kind of death. The inside of my head is sludge, flowing uphill like treacle, weighing me down, pulling me under in the riptide of my inability to focus. I can see what needs to be done, I can see it so clearly, yet sometimes it's like I don't control my own body. Not enough dopamine. Not enough brain chemicals for the message I'm screaming in my head to make my limbs do the simplest of tasks. Like, feed myself. Take a shower. Answer that email. Text my friends back. Go to bed when I'm tired. Write a best-selling novel...

A novel that almost killed me and not because of my other ailments, but because of my unmedicated ADHD.

I didn't realize it at the time, but I was already operating at critical mass when I went into final rewrites/edits. Every coping mechanism I had fell apart. Like training wheels falling off a tricycle, leaving me to wobble unsteadily until the main wheels fell off, swiftly followed by the handlebars until all that was left was me peddling frantically trying to keep my balance and not getting anywhere. I didn't realize it then, but I was heading towards a complete mental collapse. And even when I dragged myself across the finish line with the above and beyond help provided by my friends and editors, I was so burned out I couldn't enjoy my success. Worse, my success made me suicidal.

It took me until very recently, almost two years later, to be able to read Phangs without feeling suicidal. My brain associated it with the trauma of experiencing complete ADHD burnout but having to complete a monumental task anyway.

I had to go into intensive therapy to recover. I am still in intensive therapy for it.

It took me even longer after that to be able to sit down and write without harming myself. I still struggle with it, and I tell you this in all honest sincerity in the hope it makes you realize what it costs me to be "successful" and unmedicated.

And this wasn't the first time I've had to deal with this, either.

I struggled all through high school, all through college, all through every career job I ever had, knowing there was something wrong, but not quite being able to put my finger on it because hey, I still got stuff done, so it couldn't be that bad, right? Surely everyone went through life feeling this way? Right?

...right?

It wasn't until I got my ADHD diagnosis as an adult that I realized what was happening. Why I struggled so much. Why life was so hard. In many ways, it was like the sun coming up. An internal dawning of realization and acceptance, but also rage.

So much rage.

Rage at how much I'd had to struggle because no one noticed because I was quiet and undisruptive. Rage at a system that forced me to learn in ways that were not intuitive to my brain. To always being told, "doesn't apply herself" while it felt like I was clawing my brain apart trying to do what people wanted from me. To a work-life balance, that rewards all the things that make ADHD actively worse. Rage. So much rage it hurts. And to top it all off, I can't be medicated for it. I finally know what's different, I finally know why my world feels raw and turned inside out, and I can't take any of the medications that might help me.

Do you know how angry I wake up every day that there is a possible solution just within my grasp, but my health conditions prevent me from trying them? Do you know how much it hurts? How much I grieve for the person I could be if I was able to have help beyond therapy and coaching? How much happier I could be...

Not productive. Not successful. Happy.

So ask yourself, what do you want more? A child who has to go through all of this and resents you for prolonging their suffering? Who winds up hating themselves by internalizing the false concept that if they just try hard enough, they can do whatever they set their mind to.

Or do you want to help them?

Or if this is you, why are you afraid to help yourself?

Please, don't use me as an example to harm yourself or others. Yes, I am successful without medication. But the toll is high. Too high.

Rid yourself of the idea that you need to suffer more to be allowed help. You don't. They don't. No one does.

#adhd #adult adhd #actually adhd #chronic health tag #suicide mention #suicidal ideation #long post #mental health #I am not for you to bludgeon other people with #kindly desist

[blues824]

Begging can you do a jessica rabbit reader for the rest of twst boys 🙏 🥺plsss

This is gonna be a while… Gender neutral reader, red dress is now red outfit. 

Riddle Rosehearts

He thought you were absolutely beautiful, and this man always got so flustered when you brought out your sparkling red outfit. You only ever wore it for a fancy occasion, like his birthday or a date night. He secretly loved seeing you in that outfit because you only wore it for him.

Whenever you call him ‘darling’, he absolutely melts. He has never had any affection shown to him as a child, so you even calling him a sweet nickname like that has him wrapped around your finger. Riddle would prefer it if you kept ‘honey bunny’ behind closed doors, because he goes red out of embarrassment at how much he likes it.

The way you were able to slip in suggestive and flirtatious words into your sentences was baffling to him because it always left him speechless. You thrived for the blush that was always present on his face. Don’t even get me started about how he almost passes out whenever you sing to him…

Trey Clover

He spoils you by baking things for you. Whenever you catch a hankering for something sweet, he will stop baking whatever he’s working on and start on your craving. If you offer to help him, then he will do that thing where he will go behind you, pressing your back to his chest, as his hands go on top of yours to assist you in mixing whatever it was.

Whenever you call him ‘darling’ or ‘honey bunny’, he will call you ‘sweetie’ or ‘Mr/Mrs/Mx. Clover’. Very rarely do either of you call each other by your actual names, not even when you are upset with each other (which is a very rare occurrence). It’s only when you or him get hurt that you call each other ‘Y/N’ or ‘Trey’.

I feel like he’s pretty good at flirting, but nowhere as good as you were. He says things that can be taken multiple different ways, and so it leaves your imagination wandering. Indirect flirting, if you will. And that shit works too; the places that your mind has traveled because of his words are places you never thought you would be going to. You’re not complaining, though.

Ace Trappola

He doesn’t want to admit it, but he is a simp. He acts like he doesn’t think about you at every waking moment. He craves your love and attention, so he does stupid things to make you laugh. Speaking of your laugh, he loves it. It’s the most beautiful sound to him.

He likes calling you ‘babe’ because he’s basic and the last relationship he had was in middle school. You, however, call him ‘darling’ or ‘honey bunny’, and it makes him have that big, dopey, lovesick grin all day. It’s his dopamine fix for the day.

This man tries to flirt with you but fails horribly. He does cheesy pick-up lines while you actually flirt and act seductive to try and fluster him. His face always ends up more red than the heart on his face, and you smile with victory every time.

Deuce Spade

He has most definitely told his mom about you. He is just so wholesome. Also, he is a simp, and if he had a t-shirt saying that then he would wear it with pride. You are up there in importance alongside his mother. He already thinks of you as his spouse.

Deuce doesn’t really call you by terms of endearment, but he doesn’t mind you doing so. He actually likes it a lot, especially the ‘honey bunny’ name because it just seems silly and adorable and it’s perfect for him (I think we can all agree).

Imma just say it: this man can’t flirt when he tries to. However, it’s when he’s not trying. Like when he places his arm on your seat when you sit with him in the Lounge, or when he gets you a bouquet of flowers because he thought you would like them. However, his mama taught him right in that this is the bare minimum.

Leona Kingscholar

This man worships the ground you work on. You were a beauty, and you were his. This means that he’s also very protective over you. He will escort you to your classes to make sure that you get there safely and without any issues. As you walk, he will have an arm around your waist as he pulls you closer to him.

Whenever you call him ‘darling’ or ‘honey bunny’, he will act like he absolutely hates it, but please don’t stop. It gives him reassurance that you don’t mind his slightly protective tendencies and that you view him as #1 rather than just casting him aside as his kingdom did to him since he was the second born.

Oh, you both flirt more than you hold a normal conversation. 99.99% of the things that come out of either of your mouths are suggestive and flirtatious, and everyone wishes that you both would get a room. Don’t worry, they’re just jealous that Leona scored someone as great as you as his significant other.

Jack Howl

Whenever he sees anyone eyeing you up and down with romantic interest, he’s the type to hoist you over his shoulder and carry you away, and you had to admit that you liked seeing the hot scowl on his face. As you were set down, you reached up and gently grabbed his face in your hands to reassure that you would never leave him.

When you call him either ‘darling’ or ‘honey bunny’, he is hit with mental images of a possible future with you. Since he came from a big family, I feel like he would want one (adoption or biological is a-okay with him). In his eyes, you were his mate for life. That meant you were already his spouse before making it official.

He gets so flustered whenever you start flirting with him because he just doesn’t know what to say in response. He just freezes up, but his tail is wagging so you can tell that he is absolutely eating that shit up. Also, please place yourself in his lap and lightly trace his muscles while praising him for how strong he is. It gets him riled up… if you know what I mean.

Azul Ashengrotto

He always dresses up, so if you decide to dress up as well then he will absolutely die. Especially in your signature red outfit; never fails to make his nose bleed at least a little bit. Do your sashay, pull him in by the tie, and greet him that way and he is just red.

Azul doesn’t mind being called ‘darling’ out in the open because it’s a very formal and sophisticated, dare I say elegant, term of endearment. ‘Honey bunny’ doesn’t fit in that category though, so please refrain from calling him that in public lest you make him feel like a flopping fish out of water.

If you start flirting with him, then he is done for. It’s the final punch to the face. He is passing out right then and there until someone (you) splashes cold water in his face. Then, once he sees that you were his saving grace, he’s passing out again because he thought he died, went to Heaven, and saw an angel. Good luck.

Jade Leech 

If you ever decide to visit him in the Lounge, he will always make time to come and give you a kiss on the lips at your table before carrying on with his job. He might take his 15 minute break so that he can have time to actually come and talk to you.

He absolutely loves it when you call him ‘darling’ or ‘honey bunny’ because it just has a very nice ring to it. In return, he loves to call you ‘my dear’ or ‘lovely’. When you both use your terms of endearment for one another, everyone wishes you would go and get a room

The moment you decide to flirt with him, he has a smirk on his face the entire time. He’s not gonna hold back either, so be prepared for lewd things to come out of his mouth (as long as you are comfortable with it, of course).

Jamil Viper

You make him flustered all the time. He always tells you that you are the reason why his heart beats; the reason why he continues on with the grueling work that he carries on his shoulders. Every single time he scores a point in his game, it’s always for you.

If you ever call him ‘darling’, then he responds by calling you ‘my shining star’ because of how he tells you that he wished on the stars for you to accept him as your lover. If you call him ‘honey bunny’, he definitely gets flustered and freezes up.

When you decide that you want to make him flustered, call yourself a little mouse who is at the mercy of a viper. Play his unique magic by saying that he has hypnotized you and now you feel as though you could never love anyone besides him. His face goes so red, it’s almost like you’re trying to kill him.

Vil Schoenheit

As one actor to another, he wishes that he could spend more time with you but his schedule keeps him busy. So, he just chooses to star as your main love interest so that the chemistry between the two of you in real life can be portrayed through the screen.

He loves when you call him ‘darling’ because it just sounds beautiful the way it comes out of your mouth. ‘Honey bunny’ is reserved as more of a code name between the two of you so that the public doesn’t know that the two of you are together.

When you both flirt with each other, it just sounds so smooth and sexy. The two of you go back and forth as though it were casual conversation that you were indulging in, while everyone who hears it gets flustered. 

Epel Felmier

Everyday, he wonders how he managed to get with such a beautiful and wonderful person such as yourself. He always felt emasculated by the guys around him, so you being with him is reassurance that you saw him as a man.

Along with referring to him as ‘my man’, you like to call him ‘darling’ and ‘honey bunny’ which is something he loves. You would think that he hated it, but no. He actually enjoys it and will call you ‘love-cup’ just like Roger does with Jessica.

If you decide to be seductive and flirtatious towards him, he freezes up and doesn’t know how to respond. His face is red and there might be some blood trickling down his nose. He doesn’t flirt back because he can’t even speak since he’s too flustered.

Idia Shroud

You are wearing the pants in the relationship, and I hope you are okay with it. You take the initiative 99.99% of the time. Idia always wonders how someone like you is totally okay with being seen with a shut-in otaku like him.

He melts whenever you call him ‘darling’ or ‘honey bunny’ because it reminds him of a married couple (which is definitely something he is striving towards once you both graduate). You loved seeing his cute reaction, so you call him those names more than his actual name.

Don’t expect him to flirt back when you act super seductive. He can barely talk to you without stuttering, so flirting is definitely out of the question. However, if you were to place yourself in his lap, he won’t refrain from using his sharp teeth to make little bite marks along your neck and shoulder.

Silver

Honestly, you both kind of live in a blissful fairytale life. You act like a married couple, what with how you both make sure that the other is safe or not injured, you kiss each other as one has to leave for class, and he has even taken you on a horse ride with you sitting in front of him as he wrapped his arms around you while holding the reins.

When you call him ‘darling’ or ‘honey bunny’, he knows that you are safe and out of harm’s way because you never called him by his actual name. He likes to call you ‘darling’ as well as ‘my love’, maybe throw in ‘my sleeping beauty’ to mix things up.

I feel like he’d be a bit flustered whenever you flirted with him, but he’s kind of indifferent towards it. I mean, half the time he’s asleep, so yeah. Kiss him like the prince does the princess in the story to wake him up and that’s how you get him. He’s already on his knee with a ring.

Sebek Zigvolt

This is actually very interesting because I feel like he’d go soft for you. Mans follows you like a guard dog, so you get scary guard dog privileges. He is your knight just as you are his fair significant other. He stays near you just to make sure that you aren’t hurt or injured.

He would prefer to be called his actual name out in public, but he might allow ‘darling’ because it shows others that you are his and his only. ‘Honey bunny’ is to greet him after a long day to let him know that he is home and in your arms.

Sebek definitely gets flustered whenever you flirt with him, but he will retaliate through little poetic notes that make your heart swoon. They lead you on a little treasure hunt to try and collect them all, and you have a lot of fun.

#twst #twst x reader #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twst riddle #riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle rosehearts #riddle x reader #riddle #twst riddle rosehearts #twst riddle x reader #twst wonderland #twst trey clover #twst trey #trey clover x reader #trey x reader #trey clover #twst trey x reader #trey #twst ace #ace trappola x reader #ace x reader #ace trappola #twst ace trappola x reader #twst ace trappola #twst ace x reader #twst deuce #deuce spade x reader

[artistsfuneral]

@starlghtstarbrite

Pokey

Geralt should have known better.

The feeling of suspicion, a peculiar itch in the back of his mind that was only ever caused by the kind of trouble Jaskier created, had been bothering him for hours. If not that, he should have paid attention to the lingering smell in the air, the way a weak wave of Chaos tickled his senses every now and then, or how the bard suddenly seemed to struggle with the weight of his pack. It was almost frightening, how used he had to have gotten to Jaskier's antics to not notice the enormous dark omen following their every step. Either that, or Jaskier got better at hiding things from him. Geralt didn't know which was worse.

When he finally did realize that Jaskier was carrying something with him he definitely wasn't supposed to be carrying, it was due to the muffled sound of a thick eggshell cracking and a rush of dopamine in the air around his bard. Geralt, always two steps ahead of Jaskier, turned around sharply and growled at the man. "What did you do?!"

"Nothing!" Jaskier squeaked aloud, which might as well have been the boldest lie he ever told, as it was accompanied by yet another crack. "I mean- I didn't- Not- It just sat there Geralt! Alone! Orphaned! It's Mama dead because of those horrible creatures you fought. How couldn't I have?"

Realization dawned on Geralt's face, followed by a look of horror. "You didn't. Jaskier- Tell me you didn't." He knew exactly what creature Jaskier was talking about.

"It's a baby, Geralt! A helpless little creature that needs our protection. Who knows if it even would have hatched if I hadn't taken it with us."

"For fuck's sake Jaskier! Get that thing out of your bag right now. They're perfectly able to fight and kill the moment they've hatched and last time I checked you weren't a maiden pure of heart so it will attack you the moment it's head is out!" Already one hand on his silver sword, Geralt stepped towards his bard and the still hidden hatchling. Thankfully Jaskier seemed to take the witcher's orders seriously as he slowly lowered his bag on the ground, just to quickly flip it open and jump a step back.

The egg inside was bigger than a human head, off-white in color with irregular pale pink spots. Chaos radiates off of it in waves that grew stronger each time the creature inside knocked against the cracks in the shell. It did so once, twice, three times in total until the shell of the egg finally gave away and horn first, a small foal-like head peaked out. Immediately after seeing the little creature, Jaskier threw all caution to the wind and knelt down in front of his pack, cooing at the hatchling with big eyes. Ignoring Geralt's hissed out warnings to back away from the creature, Jaskier reached out to help it get rid of a piece of gooey eggshell and softly stroked a thinger over its velvet head. "Geralt," he whispered, voice full of awe, "it's so tiny."

"Jaskier, get back. It will bite your fingers off," the witcher growled, sword drawn and steady as he inched closer towards the hatchling. The creature watched Jaskier wide-eyed and with open interest, copying his cooing noises between quiet huffs and puffs. "Oh, come on, Geralt," the bard said in a hushed voice, "It's just a teeny-tiny unicorn. A little baby. Look, it's so cute, it wouldn't hurt a fly."

The witcher, who was very well aware that a freshly hatched unicorn possessed the powers and capabilities to kill up to three drowners on first sight, was about to grab Jaskier by the collar and yank him back, when the foal fully stepped out of its egg, shook itself and then proceeded to to invade Jaskier's space by gently bumping into him. That... Was not what the witcher had expected. The unicorn liked Jaskier. It was, in fact, bonding with him. Jaskier, who was still cooing over it like it was some defenseless wet kitten. "Oh, look at you. You are so beautiful with your tiny mane and your adorable little horn. And Geralt thinks you're scary. Who's a little pokey unicorn? Who's my little Pokey?"

Oh gods, Jaskier was bonding with it too. "My sweet Pokey, yes you are. Such a sweet unicorn. You will come with us, won't you? We'll introduce you to Roachie and Pegasus and you can learn all the horsie things you need to know and then you will be the bravest, strongest, prettiest, bestestest unicorn ever. Won't you, Pokey?" The unicorn neighed in response and Geralt knew he was fucked.

#the witcher #artistsfuneral about the witcher #witcher #jaskier #geralt #geraskier #geralt of rivia

[undead-supernova]

It's My Body and It Hates You / Masterlist

plot: memories are resurfacing. you thought that you were getting better. he wasn't haunting you now that you are with eddie. but, fuck, healing is just not that linear.

pairing: boyfriend!Eddie x afab!reader

important notes: this is about healing from previous sexual assault. this is as self-serving as it gets!!! and it can be HIGHLY TRIGGERING for other victims! but i thought maybe if someone else has gone through this before too, they could find comfort in it.

hate that I have to add this but please be respectful of my experiences. I have cowered away from posting this for months, but I think I should be allowed the right to shine a light on these issues and what intimacy looks like post-trauma.

wc: 3.4k

song reference: Everybody Loves You by Charlotte Lawrence (which has helped with my healing so so much over the last few years)

It starts the moment you wake up.

The remembering.

It’s his cerulean eyes you think about first, nearly glossed over with the glare of the morning light. The way it used to, at least. It made everything inside you soften; made everything slow down.

Back in the early days. Back when it didn’t fill you with melancholy. Back when you thought being in love meant to be in constant fear.

Way before you ever met someone like Eddie. Way before you knew that good men existed.

You look over to find Eddie gone already, having promised to help set up for a parade at the local middle school Nancy works at. He’s been teaching some of her students how to play guitar, even going so far as to buy them some cables and help update the sheet music they stashed in a closet.

Eddie’s good like that.

Generous. Observant. Selfless.

And it’s awful, but you wish he’d stayed home. Because something in you is starting to fall apart and it’s not pretty. It’s not palatable like they show on TV.

No, it’s something much more visceral.

It’s been almost four years since it started, since you fell into a not-so-serious relationship with some guy that turned into something sinister.

All of the running around and the secrets kept from your friend group that (not so surprisingly) doesn’t exist anymore. The ones who were so sure you were just obsessed with him. The ones who still talked to him after.

You were supposed to only have sex. That was it.

But, of course, what’s a little sex without his longing glances and soft embrace and sleeping over and early morning kisses? Sweet nothings, cuddles and hand holding?

But, no. He swore it to be friendship, just something casual. Even when he told you three separate times throughout your time together that he wanted something more. But it was fleeting, backtracking a day or two later to say he just wasn’t ready for a relationship. Ghosted you for two weeks, maybe a month at the most. Come back with a few sexts and suddenly you were fucking again. 

No strings, he’d say. We can’t be in a relationship.

So you stayed that way. Kept everything inside the best you could. Stood in the mirror with your lips sewn shut, tears trickling down your cheeks as if every teardrop was another regret. Smiled as much as you could, waiting for him to look away before you allowed yourself to let it falter.

And then there was the sex. That’s all anyone cared about in relationships, right? Not the person, just the body. Just the sexual object, a mere paperweight for the other to use.

The sex hurt from the beginning, his fingers never fitting right. His mouth always just a little bit too rough. But, fuck, it just always seemed to hurt. So you never truly finished, always faking it and finishing in the shower afterwards.

But you loved him. You loved the way he held you afterwards, the way his back shone in the morning light whenever he slept over. The fun little bickering back and forth whenever he was coming down from the dopamine rush. Ordering in and laughing at each other when stealing fries became a full-on wrestling match.

And at some point. 

Well. 

You stopped receiving. 

He’d try to arouse you, but ultimately it was always to please him. He was always too tired afterwards anyways. And though you wanted to stop, you just…did it anyways. You would sit there, reminding yourself that it would stop once you got him off. 

When it ends, it’ll be okay. He’ll stay. He’ll finally tell you he loves you. Just hold on. Just keep doing that and he’ll finish and then you’ll be fine. Just a few more minutes. Just do this. Just do that. 

Just, just, just… 

It’s fine.

Until it didn’t feel fine. Until he berated you one day, saying that the two of you couldn’t have sex every day and that your “friendship” was getting out of hand. That you wanted too much from him even though he was the one who initiated. 

Because, like with your emotions, you’d learned that if you attempted to initiate sex, the answer was no.

And so he yelled. And yelled. And yelled. Until you were sitting on the couch watching one of his lame TV shows and his hand ghosted over to your thigh. Stroked it. Gave you that look. Leaned in. Kissed you. Wrapped his fingers around your jaw and brought you back in unexpectedly.

This happened more times than you like to admit.

When he finally decided to commit, it lasted a month.

And, god, was it was a shitty month.

He introduced you to his mother who really didn’t care enough to ask you any questions about yourself and even made it a point to say that you and her son were very different—almost too different. When you told your friends, they weren’t happy for you. They were confused, even. He never talked about you, so how were you now suddenly dating? 

He never wanted to go on dates, never gave you anything special that he hadn’t stolen. Only called you beautiful between the sheets and told you he loved you in whispers. Even told you that telling him you miss him was manipulation, guilt tripping him into feeling bad for being gone.

So you stopped saying it. Stopped thinking about it. Started telling yourself to be grateful that he was still there.

When he dumped you that final time, on April 1st of all days, you’d laughed hysterically. It was the moment you realized that this was all he’d ever be. All he’d ever do. You saw all the patterns and the seduction and the manipulation and the fucking fucking and knew that this was a vicious cycle that would never end unless you were the one to cut the cord. 

And, well, you’d already snapped.

You thought that everything had been consensual. That you’d wanted it. Even though you didn’t, not one bit. You just wanted him to stay.

But it couldn’t have been rape. No, not at all.

But, like, you didn’t want it and you most definitely felt taken advantage of every single time and he definitely touched you whenever he wanted you to fuck him and get your arousal to distract you and the word coercion definitely sat in your mouth all funny and…

It had to be consensual. 

Right?

For two years, you thought you’d never go near romance again.

When you met Eddie, a friend of a friend, you were so confused by how gentle he was. Always having a smile for you, always telling your friend that he enjoyed your presence. He gave you little presents, like stickers and rocks from conventions and comic book stores. A few amethysts after you told him they were your favorite. Learned your coffee order and your favorite foods.

If you were hanging out, you were playing video games or board games with his friends or laughing or giggling or swapping embarrassing secrets or, or or...

His friends would leak in every now and then, filling up cups and hosting potlucks galore. Steve, Robin, and Nancy made sure to affirm your solidified place in their lives while Gareth, Grant, and Jeff made sure you were a key member in campaigns. 

And Eddie was always there at the end of those nights, washing your dishes and collecting trash just so you could catch some sleep.

It was such a stark contrast from the friend group you’d been in before.

And, fuck, you’d never felt so free.

A few months into your friendship, Eddie made it clear that he had feelings for you. Asked if you were feeling the same way and that he’d fuck off if you told him to. When you laughed and said you kind of liked him back, he asked you out on a proper date, something you hadn’t had before. 

He did that whole thing with the flowers and the tie and the car door and the restaurant door and the chair and the laughter and the nice champagne and the walking you up to your apartment. 

His arms were behind his back, keeping a safe distance. Under the dim flickering light of the hallway, his dark irises met yours. You searched them for any sign of danger.

But they were gentle. Kind. 

Warm.

And you stood there, waiting for him to kiss you or try to come in.

But he didn’t.

He’d said, “Could we do this again?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

He turned to walk back down the stairs. But you touched his shoulder. 

“Wait, you’re not going to try to come in?”

Eddie merely smiled at you, tugging at the stray hairs leaving his bun. “Oh, uh. That’s not how I want to do things.”

“Really?”

He shook his head, still smiling. “Really. Sorry to disappoint—”

“No!” you exclaimed, maybe a little too loud. “No, I just. Um, no one’s ever— Anyways, it’s not important. I’m sorry. I’d love to go on a second date.”

You sat in bed that night, trying to ward away the nightmares creeping up. Feeling locked in place, feeling scared. Felt it in your arms. Your spine. Your cracked chest.

Feeling terrified that Eddie was just lying. 

Feeling doubtful that this would ever be more than some hookup.

And yet, it became anything but that.

On your sixth date, you finally told him about your ex, trying to explain why you were the way you were. Why you flinched at any casual touch and why the idea of being intimate was scary for you. Why you’d been so hesitant with Eddie in the first place. 

You rambled on and on, from the way you couldn’t even masturbate half of the time to avoiding porn because you flashed back to those moments. The ones where everything always had to hurt. The ones where you had to make yourself into a sex doll just to be seen. Just to have worth that ultimately meant nothing.

It was like your body was stuck, like it was empty and full of cobwebs. It was just the strangest sensation, like your body knew something you didn’t.

“It’s silly, I know,” you’d said. “I don’t know why it’s all still so scary for me. It’s not even a big deal.”

Eddie whispered your name then, hesitantly reaching his fingers out to skim yours. “And you have no idea why you feel this way?” he asked, an eyebrow lifting.

Yours furrowed. Softly, you asked, “What are you trying to say?”

“I think…” Eddie took a deep breath, closing his eyes momentarily before gazing at you again. “Um, I think he raped you.”

He watched your eyes widen then.

And as the waves of grief washed through you that night, Eddie held onto you. His strong arms anchored you to the life you had now, the one you were living in spite of this horror. 

But it didn’t mean any of this made sense. What had you done to deserve this? Where was your fault?

But, fuck, how could you have even known?

And why would that be your fault anyways?

“You don’t need to see this,” you’d sobbed, shaking your head. “I-I—”

You couldn’t even finish your sentence, heaving another sob before his arms tightened around you.

“You’re not alone,” he whispered, kissing your temple. “I’m here, okay?”

“I’m here.”

You cried the first time he made you cum. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he’d cooed. “It’s okay. You’re safe with me, I promise. Let it out.”

You nodded then, taking your tired arms and wrapping them around his neck. Pulled him closer, closer than you’d been with anyone. Hugged him tight. Kept him inside you. Tried to remind yourself that he wasn’t going to walk away. He was here with you. He was present. 

​​Not too long after that, you’d been under him again, breathlessly thanking him.

Eddie had stilled inside you, leaning back to look into your glassy eyes. 

“What for?” he’d asked.

“For being so sweet to me,” you responded, sniffling. “For letting me feel good.”

“Sweetheart, I—” Eddie got choked up on the words, getting teary-eyed himself. “You never have to thank me for making sure you feel good, alright?” You nodded. “I want you to feel good. Always.”

Nodding again, you asked, “Would you…keep going? Please?”

He smiled then, wiping the sides of his eyes. “Yeah,” he breathed. “Anything you want.”

“Thank you,” you’d said, taking his hand in yours. “Thank you.”

After that, Eddie approached things a bit differently.

Even when he was fucking the shit out of you, which you didn’t even know could actually feel good, he was so gentle. Kissed your face after you came two, three times before praising you.

“You did so good, baby. So, so good.”

“So proud of you.”

“You’re so beautiful. I bet you knew that already, though. Absolutely perfect.”

It started to stitch back together something inside you that you didn’t know could be mended.

Somehow, within the last six months, you stopped being able to have sex.

It came out of nowhere—all the flashbacks and panic attacks. The moments of arousal that seem to wash away seconds after it’s felt. Hell, even the thought of masturbation has started to make you sad again.

Your body recoils from that kind of intimacy now, even Eddie’s touch being clouded with the memory of Him. And you’re working on it. You are. Sometimes you have therapy twice a week just to talk about it and undo whatever it is that’s starting to worm its way into your every day life.

Despite it all, you still try doing little things with him so that you can enjoy yourselves, like getting off while lying next to each other. It always ends in giddy laughter and gentle cuddling. Soft kisses and the promise for another round later.

But recently you can’t help but feel like you’re something that weighs him down, keeps him from experiencing true pleasure. That you’re just a tattered and torn tapestry that holds no image anymore.

By the time Eddie gets home that night, you’re on your third glass of wine, silently crying in your shared living room. It’s not the best sight, your white t-shirt gone after you’d spilled the drink while trying to sit down. You’re naked, chest stained with the scarlet liquid from shaky fingers. 

Eddie immediately throws the keys on the counter and rushes over to you. 

“Hey, what happened? What’s going on?” He gently runs his fingers through your hair. “What’s going on, sweetheart?”

You shake your head. “He’s back. In my head. I can’t get him out, Eddie. I can’t get him out.”

“Hey, come here. It’s going to be—”

He tries to wrap his arms around you, but it’s seconds before you’re pushing him away from you. You can’t feel Eddie tonight. No. You only feel Him. That monster, that unforgivable personification of hell.

“Stop! Stop!” you plead. “There’s so much pain. Just so much. I can’t keep doing this. It’s so painful.”

There’s nothing but those cobwebs inside you with little insects scurrying about. Maggots squirming in and out of your flesh. The hands, His hands that disemboweled you from the start, are still clawing at your ribcage. After all, He left you for dead, disgusting and discarded. Poisoned. Tained.

You’re suffering. 

And you don’t suffer beautifully. You’re not draped in silk sheets and clutching your pearls as your trauma washes over you in delicate, smudged mascara tears. No, your naked body shivers with the cold air and sticky spilled wine and your nails are crooked from the biting and the picking. Your eyes are sore and there’s something worse clawing at your throat.

“Baby, hey…” Eddie trails, lightly stroking your arm. “It’s okay. Just breathe for me, okay?”

“No, I’m so fucking done!” you scream, slamming your glass on the coffee table, watching as it cracks. “I can’t fucking believe this stupid thing happened to me and now I can’t do shit during sex and I’m just broken. I’m just fucking broken. And it’s all his fault!”

You choke on a sob, collapsing back onto the carpet. “It’s all his fault,” you whisper, overcome with sorrow.

“Hey, hey. Come here,” Eddie whispers, tentatively pulling you back into his arms. 

“I want this to be over with.” Your voice comes out exasperated. Exhausted. Like even the thought of having to keep going through this is about to do you in. “I just want it to be over.”

“I know.”

“It’s so gross. It’s so gross! I feel so fucking tainted and like I’m full of toxic waste. Like goo, you know? Just fucking oozing with the stuff.”

Eddie simply nods, holding you tighter to his chest. “Did you, like, get triggered? Last time, you said it was that detergent at the store.”

You shake your head. “No, it’s like I woke up being assaulted or something. It’s absolute bullshit. I thought I was done with this. I thought it was over. I thought I’d been to therapy enough that it was letting me get back to having sex and being normal.”

“Ah, come on, sweetheart,” he cooed. “There’s no such thing as being normal, especially after something like that. You know that.” You let out a huff, one of your stubborn ones that leaves a small smile on Eddie’s lips. “Besides, you’re the only one punishing yourself for not being able to have sex right now.”

Sniffling, you look up to meet his eyes. “You’re not mad at me?”

His eyebrows furrow, shaking his head as he continues to smile at you. “Why would I be mad at you, hm? I don’t want to have sex if you’re not feeling it.”

“Oh,” you say simply. “Okay. Yeah.”

Arms tightening, he states, “That’s how it should always be.”

You nod. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“And we have our things we do,” he adds, fiddling with your fingers. “You know, getting off at the same time.”

“You don’t think it’s weird?” you ask.

“Not to get, like, vulgar right now, but I think it’s hot.” That gets a laugh out of you. “I’m really into it ‘cause you’re super into it.”

“I like it,” you agree, the haze starting to dissipate from your vision. “It makes me feel safe and I just…it’s nice.”

“Then we can keep doing that until you’re ready to do anything else, alright?” 

You nod, still trying to clear the fog.

“I know what I signed up for, sweetheart,” he says, giving you a quick squeeze. “I knew it wasn’t going to be easy for you, no matter how much I wish it was.”

“I’m gonna get through this,” you say with a nod. “I know I can do this. I just need some time to figure out how to change what’s happening inside me.”

“See? That’s my girl,” he whispers, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “My strong, beautiful, brave girl.”

“How were the kids?”

It’s dark in your bed, the covers seemingly comfier than they’ve ever been. Eddie has you curled into his arms, hiding you away from the assailants and the monsters of the world. There’s no Him here. For now, you’re resting in the arms of solace. 

“Absolutely terrible,” he says, causing you to chuckle. “But I think they had fun. Nance is good at the teaching thing, bossing the kids around, you know?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Would you keep talking to me?” you ask. “I want to hear more about your day.”

Eddie trails on, stroking your hair. He tells you about the tiny parade the classes had and how the mini float they made stopped moving halfway through. Steve came just in time to see it break down and they worked together to get it back up and running again. 

He says you would’ve had fun.

Says it’s okay that you weren’t okay enough to come.

Says it’s okay that you’re struggling with this.

“You’re doing your best,” he whispers as your eyes start to get too difficult to open. “And I love you so much. I’m right here with you.”

Love doesn’t come easily after sexual assault. When there’s no one left to trust and the idea of sex is appealing but the follow through fills you with intense anxiety, the thought of a relationship is…tough. It’s easy until it’s hard and it’s hard until it’s easy. It’s like every day comes with something new, whether it be good or bad.

Eddie’s the exception that you never saw coming. And you’re so fucking glad you were able to see the day where you got to meet him. Fall in love with him. Stay with him.

And he tells you one last truth before you fall asleep.

“You aren’t broken, even if you feel like it. Just a little bent, baby. That’s all.”

shout out to @strangergraphics for her dividers...and a big thanks to her for encouraging me to share this when I was giving up.

if you are going through anything like this, know that you're not alone. it's a scary experience and people don't really talk about the way the body is just as affected by trauma as the brain is. healing is not linear and you will get through this.

stay strong.

#Eddie munson x reader #eddie munson/reader #Eddie munson x you #Eddie munson/you #boyfriend!eddie munson #Eddie x you #Eddie x reader #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson hurt/comfort

[graychrissy]

🌊Digital Detox + Egyptians lucid dreaming method 🌊

Idk what to put on the title of this post so I wrote digital detox and I have copy pasted the main lines.

In the ancient Egypt the Egyptians use to have lucid dreaming alot and it was extremely easy for for them not just Egyptians but it was also mention ancient Indian scriptures.

You’re probably wondering ‘what’s the secret’? The real problem is often NOT your technique. It’s actually another issue that no amount of techniques, articles, reality checks, supplements or uncomfortable masks is going to fix. It’s your ‘inner game’. Specifically, your subconscious motivation and reward circuits, and ‘dopamine cycle’. Travel in your mind for a second, to ancient Egypt.

There were no smart phones, internet connections, computer animated action movies or virtual reality headsets.

Your brain back then would have produced a healthy amount of dopamine as a reward for pretty basic things like eating, working, exploring, and taking some time to relax or meditate

Now our average attention spans are literally less than 7 SECONDS. It’s probably a lot lower than that, and It’s declining every single year with the rise of new, highly addictive and stimulating social media apps and platforms. When was the last time you meditated for over 90 minutes? Have you ever? I’m not saying you have to do that to lucid dream, but this sort of practice was very common 5000 years ago. In fact, it was weird NOT to do that. And herein lies the main problem.

Your brain is ‘fried’ with an overly stimulated dopamine pathway. Dopamine is the neurotransmitter that stimulates the feeling of WANTING to keep doing something. It’s the reason you keep scrolling through Instagram, or keep refreshing your Facebook feed to see if there are any new comments or notifications. But it’s also the SUBCONSCIOUS reason you aren’t able to lucid dream easily. In the last decade especially, there have been billions of dollars spent by big tech to essentially ‘addict you’ to their platforms. Why? Money. The more time and energy you spend on platforms like that, the more money they make. So the task has been given to artificial intelligence. The AIs often just get trained and told a few basic things: 1: Get people to spend more time on the platform 2: Get people to keep coming BACK to the platform as often as possible The ‘AI’ pays almost NO attention to what that would do to your mental health, attention span, motivation, emotions, or really anything else. Much LESS attention is paid to the effect it has on your ability to focus, or do things like, say, lucid dream. Now, the ‘dopamine cycle’ is one part of the problem, but it’s actually pretty easy to fix. There are several little pieces to what I call the ‘modern brain puzzle’. Things that just weren’t a problem 5000 years ago. You can see some of this playing out in children today. On average, children or people under the age of 15, find it MUCH easier to lucid dream than adults do. It’s because at that age, their dopamine system has not been damaged too much. This is of course changing now, as more and more children are having access to smartphones, but it’s an interesting point. In fact not only does the dopamine problem affect your ability to lucid dream, it also affects your ability to WANT to lucid dream (consciously and subconsciously). Specifically I’m talking about your motivation and focus. And you guessed it, there’s your number one cause of problems when trying to meditate, practice techniques like the WILD, or recall your dreams.

After reading this paragraph or stanza whatever,I noticed something,as a kid I had lucid dreams alot with just putting intentions.

My first lucid dream was at around 7-8 years old,and I was sinking when I realised I was dream and I tried controlling my dream and even succeeded,and I was probably there for about 10 minutes playing with underwater creatures and mermaids.

And till 7 grade I use to have alot of lucid dreams but after that I was allowed to use phone and so I was always invested in phone like all the time. By the way lucid dream was pretty normal for me and I pretty much forgot about it and never really paid attention to lucid dreaming. And then I rarely had any lucid dreams, probably 4 times ever since 8 grade and I've noticed every time I lucid dream it's always whenever I don't use any social media.

In 9 grade my phone was taken again because my mother noticed my social media addiction. And after few months I again start to lucid dream for fun easily and effortlessly but during COVID I was again allowed to have my phone and then a new laptop so now my life was revolving around social media again and for the past few year I only lucid dream whenever I don't get to use my phone more then 2 days.

Idk bout y'all but I wasn't allowed to use phones or laptop till 8th grade so the only thing I knew was TV which I only watched after coming home so like my mind was most of the te bored because I didn't had anything to keep it entertain which made it easy for me to observe around looking for things to do.

So how can you reverse the ‘dopamine problem’ and several of the other issues modern life has created? By the way: This is NOT about destroying your phone and going back to live in a cave. There are actually several powerful habits you can install, that will let you KEEP using your phone, laptop etc, but without these harmful effects. Here’s the simple solution to more lucid dreams: 1. Reverse engineer your life and remove distractions, manipulation, ‘dopamine hijacking’ and harmful blue light exposure from your daily routine (along with some other ‘problem patterns’) 2. Get inside your subconscious brain and rewire yourself to WANT to practice lucid dreaming, and to effortlessly do reality checks at the right time, without even trying 3. Learn powerful ‘all day awareness’ and ‘lucid living’ techniques that give your brain superpowers in the fight 4. On top of THAT foundation, learn the most effective techniques and concepts, use our tools to stay motivated, and experience lucid mastery within 14 days. Let’s dive a little bit deeper: First, you have to ‘reverse engineer’ the problem. This can be complicated if you don’t know what you’re doing, but we’ve laid everything out step by step for you. If dopamine addiction is part of the problem, we have to break that addiction first. Then comes your mindset, and your motivation pathways. You need to actually feel GOOD when you practice these things. I see so many people saying they’re struggling to remember to do reality checks, or they just don’t want to wake up at ‘weird times’ to practice. Don’t worry, you won’t have to. It will feel good, and you’ll ENJOY practicing these things. Next, your subconscious mind. It’s SO important to fix your internal beliefs about lucid dreaming, because the chances are you have ‘internal blocks’ about becoming lucid. They’re easy to pick up, but a bit harder to ‘unlearn’. The system shows you how to ‘unlearn’ them, and install new, powerful and self affirming beliefs into your mind. This gives your brain lots more motivation to keep trying. Now, one of the most common things I hear people say is that they can’t REMEMBER to keep doing reality checks. It’s linked to the dopamine problem we mentioned earlier, but it’s also connected to a few other psychological principles that we’ll get onto. We’ll give you a new framework to ENJOY reality checks, remember them without any annoying reminders, and actually get them to SHOW UP in your dreams, 9 out of 10 times. And then finally, we’ll build the most effective techniques, methods and concepts on top of that new, strong foundation. Of course, I’m simplifying this here, but that’s the outline.

Here are some videos that may help.

If you want to know more about it or get the steps to lucid dream you can buy the book or go through a long step to get it for free but the procedure is very long and probably only for Iphone user.

You find some good articles ways to do the 'reverse dopamine' thingy.(I donot trust my research on this topic cuz I got confuse)

You may use Adambja's tape to reprogram your subconscious and this hacking the matrix tape the comments under the video was so good and I found this tape on someone's success story. You can use this two tapes to reprogram your subconscious and of course psych-k.

This is pretty much all you need digital detox,observing your surroundings and subconscious reprogramming to change your belief or assumptions.

And this will make you even more motivated that you are working on your goals as many of us have the access of devices it's hard for us to keep up with all this method and it's not like we are always busy if we are we wouldn't be scrolling through Tumblr and Pinterest all the time. If you read the the copy pasted part you'll see what I mean.

Edit: I forgot to mention it 🥲 if we follow do this we CAN HAVE lucid dream everyday.

Egyptians lucid dreaming tea

This will be quick,so I went to my aunt's place with my mother and my aunt's ran out of tea powder/leaves so she used her daughter's blue lotus tea and after getting home I took a nap and I HAD A FOKING LUCID DREAM,so basically I didn't knew that it was the tea until I was doing some research on LD and found out that in ancient Egypt they use Blue Lotus tea and I found some review about it on YouTube and people had very vivid dreams aswell. This tea basically put you in REM which y'all probably know about.

But I don't like tea😐,so if anyone have interest you can try I honestly want to but my hate for tea is on top on the list of top 5 things I hate,you can find them online people even use Blue Lotus in vape😐not encourageling y'all to smoke but if anyone does you can.

#Youtube #ancient lucid dream #blue lotus #tea #lucid dreaming tea #shifting #void state #void #manifest

[the-iceni-bitch]

Hi Nat! May I have “who told you I needed fixing and what made you believe them?” with Ari maybe?

Also, all the hugs and good vibes for a better 2024 😚

15. “Who told you I needed fixing and what made you believe them?”

I don’t know why but I love this one for Ari so much.

Ari felt like he was going to scream, and he could tell you were just as angry as he was. This was exceptionally ridiculous. You two had fought before but for some reason today had pushed the both of you over the edge.

It had started out just fine. You had gotten home from work and smiled when you saw him making you dinner. The smiles and warm kisses hello were normal, and so was Ari asking how your day was. But then you shrugged him off, again, when he noticed the strain in your voice and the way you sighed when you told him it was fine. He knew it wasn’t, he could read you like a fucking book. Which you both loved and hated at the same time. You couldn’t make yourself open up to him for some reason, though, and it was starting to piss him off.

“I don’t understand what’s so damn hard about just telling me when there’s something going on with you.” Ari ran his hand through his as he tried to keep himself at least relatively calm. “I am not asking that much, just for the woman I’m in love with to talk to me!”

“I am talking to you!” You didn’t care so much about staying calm, gripping the edge of the counter so hard it hurt while you yelled in frustration. “I’m so sorry I’m not enough for you! Who the fuck told you I needed fixing and what made you believe them?”

“I’m not trying to fix you, goddamn it!” Now he really was mad, you always accused him of this type of shit whenever he tried to get you to open up when all he wanted was to know you. “I want to be able to help you if you need it. I want our relationship to grow and become deeper and more meaningful. If you just want a feel good dopamine boost, then fucking fine, but at least tell me that instead of acting like you want something important. Do you even know what you want?”

You just tilted your head back and screamed then stormed out the door. You didn’t need this shit. You didn’t need someone to tell you what you wanted. You were fine by yourself, the tears that fell from your eyes and the pain in your chest didn’t mean anything, Ari didn’t know what the fuck he was talking about.

“God, that is just fine!” Ari was crying too now, tossing the food into the sink and punching the wall as he sucked down painful breaths. “I’ll just be here waiting like a fucking moron if you ever decide you want to have a real, grownup relationship!”

⁂❆❅ 𝒥𝑜𝒾𝓃 𝓂𝓎 𝐵𝓁𝓊𝑒 𝐵𝒾𝓇𝓉𝒽𝒹𝒶𝓎 ❅❆⁂

#natalie answers #nat’s blue birthday #ari levinson #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x you #ari levinson angst #angst #asks are always open

[quodekash]

FUUUUUUUUUUUCKing hell theyre gonna kiss today????

hes so grumpy already I love this so much

the silent conversations chain and toey are having with their eyes oml I cant

pls this is so funny

theyre both deeply in love with someone else so it's jsut so unnatural to them

BUT ALSO id like to mention that the first thing chain did when he had to pretend to be hitting on toey was put his arm around his shoulders and rest his hand there. which is what he's literally ALWAYS doing with pun, no matter when it is, he's always standing next to pun with his hand resting on one of his shoulders

its like he associates his time with pun as being in a romantic relationship 👀

THESE FUCKIN BASTARDS 😭

JUST KISS IM BEGGING YOU

theyre lost in their own little world 🥺

kiIIIIIS

this is too funny, the cuts from "chain. chain what happened next." to ✨soulful dramatic guitar music✨

im sad they didnt actually kiss but also im not surprised

LOOK AT THEM, DUDE

THEYRE SO NATURAL WITH EACH OTHER

I FUCKIN LOVE FRIENDS TO LOVERS SO SO MUCH

half convinced theyre already dating, they just cant be bothered saying anything so theyre waiting for others to ask them about it

PUN IS SO CUTE DUDE I ADORE HIM HES FUCKING ADORABLE

I LOVE THEM SO FUCKING MUCH THEYRE SOIMPORTANT TO ME

if I ever have a romantic partner, this is what I want

I cant explain it, I just wanna run up to them with pure joy and excitement, and for them to hold me back by just pushing against my skull

it just seems perfect, idk why

GB4JHERGB

THE FRIENDSHIP OF ALL TIME

genuinely think I might be more invested in their friendship than all the romantic relationships in this show

im fucking CRYING

my king matt, this was so unnecessary and I love everything about it

why does it suit him so well tho

they should kiss again I think

I feel everything about this image on a spiritual level

THIS ENTIRE AMUSEMENT PARK SEQUENCE BRINGS ME SO MUCH JOY AND DOPAMINE IM IN LOVE WITH THSI EPUSODE

NEW COMFORT EPISODE UNLOCKED

look its really funny but I do feel bad cos this day is not even a little bit fun for him

like q is having a complete shit time

poor chain doesn't love amusement parks but he has to go on the rides with toey to keep up the facade cos toey loves these rides 😭

and its even worse realising Q also seems to love amusement parks, so he would be having a fucking amazing time if he could just go on all the rides next to Q cos they both love it so much 😭😭

fuckin FINALLY

LMAO WHAT

THIS IS SO FUCKING FUNNY I JUST SCREECHED WITH LAUGHTER SO LOUD AND ITS MIDNIGHT

THE PURE COMICAL SHOCK AS HE REALISDE WHAT HE SAID, THE EXCITEMENT FROM EVERYONE ELSE AS THEYR EALISE WHAT HE SAID

I mean to be fair it was REALLY obvious

im surprised no one noticed earlier but also its a bl so im not at all surprised to find out theyre all fuckin dumbasses

SERIOUSLY THO TANFANG IS WHAT I WANT IN A RELATIONSHIP HOLY SHIT

a lot of the time watching bls ill be like "I want that" but its usually as a joke

but THIS?? the fucking adhd bastard (me) who just wants to be near their partner and compliment and always stimming and just having a swell fucking time while the other one loves them but is mildly tired but also in adoration? FUCKIN GIMME

also how the fuck has Q not realised, theyre all so fucking obvious

also also I cant explain it it just feels deeply as though pun and chain are for real dating they just havent told anyone yet

ill make a post about it all at some point maybe (I definitely wont)

PHYSICAL TOUCH IS HIS LOVE LANGUAGE 😭😭😭

I LOVE THEM SO MUCH HE DOESNT HAVE TO HOLD HIM SECRETLY ANYMORE THEY CAN JUST WALK HAND IN ARM NATURALLY NOW

hear me out tho, this gets even funnier if he's actually already in a committed relationship that no one knows about yet

I dont think it's secret dating, it's just 'not super obvious dating to try and see JUST how oblivious all our friends are. its been three years at this point and still no one's said anything. we're starting to lose all hope.'

I love tan so much, the little wave

what the FUCK

what the FUCK FUCK???

THE SOUNDWIN LINE????

HERE IT IS ITS FUCKIN COMIN GUYS

HE SAID IT

HE FUCKIN SAID IT

[insert that gif of the crowd of people in the bar going insane]

holy fucking shit dude holy fucking shit

my legs are literally shaking idk if I can do this

FUCK TO THE YES, FUCKING EXPLICIT ASK FOR CONSENT HOLY FUCKING SHIT

WHAT THE FUCK

AND THE FUCKING SONG IN THE BACKGROUND !!!!

HOLY FUCKING SHIT DUDE

im gonna be here all day

I dont even need to watch the rest of the episode now

I can just go to bed if I want and watch the rest later or smth

dude I cant wait for q to realise that toey is milk frappe guy

HOLY FUCKING SHIT IT JUST PROCESSED IN MY MIND THAT THEY KISSED

WHAT THE FUCK

omg making out in a haunted house, what a dream

the workers watching on the security cameras probably had a blast that day

how funny would it be if there'd been a scare actor in the shadows in that room with them and they'd been about to scare them but they were too shocked with that tender kiss to remember they have a job

he needs to lie on his bed and just stare at his roof and think about that for a while

tbh same

look at him 🥺 he's so lost in that memory

thEY FUCKIN MADE OUT HOLY FUCK

welp on that note I think im done for now

I might finish the ep with my silly thoughts+screenshots later but for now tis the time for sleep

#quodekash's side couple syndrome boss fight #we are series #cant wait for that song to come out on Spotify and I can listen to it on repeat for several days #qtoey #winnysatang #satang kittiphop #winny thanawin #tanfang #aouboom #marcpoon #chainpun #aou thanaboon #boom tharatorn #marc natarit #poon mitpakdee #we are the series

[waitmyturtles]

Love For Love's Sake: unorganized musings on an utterly brilliant show

TW: suicide, suicide attempts and ideation among LGBTQ+ youth

I love that @lurkingshan clocked early on, before my heated two-day binge of Love For Love's Sake, that I would NOT be able to write meta on this show right after I watched it. It's been five days, and all I have are just loose mental strings. Everyone has had such amazing input and theories and thoughts into this incredible show. What I said to @bengiyo while I was watching it was: I'm not entirely sure I'm following everything, but this show is still hitting every high point of my dopamine cycle, which means it's GOOD, and maybe making sense, somehow.

In any case, I don't think I can write meta on this show, in part because I don't know if there are any concrete conclusions I can come to about this show -- which I think is an inherent part of its brilliance. I'm just in awe that we, as BL fans, got this show in the genre we love, complete with stellar acting, gorgeous cinematography, phenomenal writing, all of it. (I'm back a lot on iQIYI right now, ready for my KinnPorsche OGMMTVC rewatch, and I'm noticing that LFLS is just eating by way of numbers. Fucking WELL DESERVED.)

All I want to do is just share some instinctual feelings about where my mind was landing a couple days after I finished watching LFLS. This is the scene I've been thinking about the most right now.

I don't have a theory as to the "reality" of the ending of the show -- if Myungha is alive in "reality," is alive in an alternate universe, is reincarnated, or if what's shown at the end of the series is a kind of heaven. I love that there's no real way we can interpret that.

What I love about this scene that I've screencapped -- and thinking about the elusive and inconclusive meanings of the ending -- is that, truly, theories about fate and destiny ARE indeed theories. Myungha's grandmother believes one thing, and Myungha believes something else. Sunbae is able to play around with.... something, with time, with fate, with our dependence on technology, something, to make something happen to Myungha that gives him a happy ending with Yeowoon somewhere, sometime, in some wrinkle of time.

Going back for a second (I told you these thoughts were unorganized), something that hit me deeply about this show were the great number of themes it touched upon. This show touched upon:

Suicide Homophobia Bullying Self-acceptance Self-love Familial abandonment Familial abuse Substance abuse Intergenerational trauma Elder hierarchy and respect (both in families and in society) Pre-destination Christianity (stay with me for a sec) Buddhism (same)

and probably many more that I'm missing.

I couldn't help but think of Lee Sun-Kyun's recent suicide in South Korea -- even though this show was likely produced well before that incident. Nonetheless, it had me thinking about what suicide means in South Korea, considering the ever-growing presence of Christianity in that country, with 23% of South Koreans identifying as some kind of Christian. The show also had me thinking in general of sins, and of fate, in Christianity.

Just thinking out loud. Korea produces fewer BLs than we'd expect from that national entertainment powerhouse. Efforts to cancel Seoul Pride last year were made in earnest by pro-Christian forces -- but Pride won out.

As same-sex orientation so often is, suicide is also discouraged in Christian circles. We can see, literally, how homosexuality is discouraged in South Korea vis à vis Pride. I'll assume the same for suicide in South Korea, despite the many celebrities in the recent past that have met that fate publicly.

What does South Korea feel about the suicides of young people who might be queer? The percentages of suicidal ideation and suicide attempts among South Korean LGBTQ+ youth are high.

We can see and feel the palpable message from LFLS that self-love, despite how oneself, and society, might feel about an individual's sexual orientation, is well worth fighting for and celebrating. But Myungha, in some reality, is still dead. And death will be his eventual fate anyway, as will be the fate for all of us.

If Myungha found self-love, AND love through Yeowoon, and found a happy ending in happiness, somewhere, somehow, then -- any Christian judgements about same-sex orientations and suicide are moot, regarding Myungha's fate.

But Myungha also reveals, vis à vis his grandmother, the Buddhist spin on fate. He mentions that she believes in reincarnation. He mentions that she believes in doing good in this life, so as to have a happy life after reincarnation.

And he refutes that. He says -- no. Predestination of any kind is not right. I believe that one can change their lives NOW, in the present, for a happier fate and future, NOW. Otherwise, why even bother trying?

And Sunbae hears that, and constructs a world in which Myungha COULD find a path to a happier ending, simply by working on finding love for himself and unto himself -- in part, though a partner that Myungha relates to deeply at the start of the series. (That Yeowoon might very well be the EMBODIMENT of self-love that Myungha discovers -- yes, that may also be "true" of the show's ending. Whew.)

You know what I love about this show? I love that this show just absolutely CHEWED UP those predestination theories that we get from our generations past, from the spiritual practices that we may have grown up with -- from the indirect, unspoken, unconscious ASSUMPTIONS we may have about life and death. This show iterated that being either in "the" or "a" now, a present, and being willing to change oneself (which I've often written about as being THE hardest thing you can you in your life) can have great, long-lasting -- even eternal benefits and consequences.

I love that this show says: you don't have to rely on all the structures and expectations that lead one to behave the way that they do. We might always expect to be a group of schoolboys who'll bully another for being gay. But -- did we expect one of those bullies to BE gay? The show said, we can also very much turn that on its head, even though it might cost someone some bruises.

Within the absolute truth that all humans will die one day -- what other absolute truths do we have? Man. I need a vacation, some..... stuff, you know what I mean, I need TIME to contemplate that.

This show said, no absolute truths today. Everything is up for grabs by way of how we'll love and accept people, and this show examined ALL THE WAYS, good AND bad, that people are loved and accepted, from total rejection by a parent, to unconditional love from a partner, with a slipper-bearing and loving grandma in-between.

It's been... what, five days since I finished this show, and I CANNOT stop thinking about it. It's just brilliant. These thoughts were messy, but it's meant to be, because I just -- this show, I just can't with how brilliant this show was about all of the inconclusiveness of it that still told such an amazing story.

#love for love's sake #love for love's sake meta #love supremacy zone #love supremacy zone meta #myungha x yeowoon #yeowoon x myungha #lee taevin #cha joowan

[piratefishmama]

Crossing The Line | Part 7

Again. Right. Okay. Again, Kas wanted him to say it again. Cool. Definitely wasn’t high key anxiety inducing to do it the first time. Robin was right, straight from wooed to the apartment? Probably not going to happen, he was super overestimating his level of game.

He had no game. None, nada, zip, zilch, bupkis.

He almost bailed, almost bolted with his tail between his legs but no, no he’d be brave, sure this man was kind of an asshole to him and honestly it may be a bad idea because what if he was still an asshole, like… what if he was just constantly an asshole, like… toxic kind of asshole. He had to hope though, someone that pretty couldn’t be awful, right? In what universe would that be fair?

“Uh… you, me, dinner? Tonight maybe? Or tomorrow if that’s better. Or… or y’know, any day this week, I’m flexible.”

“Why?” The guy practically choked, his grip on the rolling pin loosening a little. “I mean—why me?” Why him? Why him? God why him? Why the nerdy metalhead whose name he didn’t even know? Why the guy who’d spent a whole week bitching him out over social media over an experiment? Steve didn’t know.

He had no idea! He didn’t know why he’d fallen so hard so fast, why he’d spent hours just watching those talented fingers dance along the neck of that beautiful warlock, he had no idea, Steve was just following the dopamine and Kas seemed to be an endless supply of it for him.

“Uhm, I like you?”

“You don’t even know me, dude. In fact, the only knowledge you have of me is that I bitched you out for a week.” True, he didn’t seem to be gearing up to apologise for that either. The anxiety was only growing by the second, oh no. He felt so small all of a sudden, so stupid, of course it was stupid, he never should have come. “And now you come and what… hunt me down at work and ask me out? That’s so fuckin weird an I’m—"

“Grass, bitch, and I’m the mower!!” Steve had to spin round fast just to catch Robin as she stormed in there having been listening close by the door, the grip on that rolling pin tightened again.

“Jesus H. Christ!” The rolling pin poised to launch.

“Robin, no!”

“No he’s being mean again! I’m not having it! You spent a whole week just lying there mooning over this fucking idiot’s hands for crying out loud even when he was being a dick to you for something you only did for fun and now we’ve come all this way and he’s being mean in person and I’m not having it, I refuse, lemme at him!” Honestly ‘Kas’ was lucky Steve was as strong as he was, Robin would have gotten out of that hold easy if he were any weaker.

“Mean?! I’m being HONEST, you psycho!”

“Motherfucker, I’ll show you psych—"

“ROBIN!” She stopped struggling. Steve rarely raised his voice, honestly the only time he ever raised his voice was when the kids were involved. When pushy labels or producers tried shit with his kids, that was the only time Steve ever raised his voice. Also that one brief stint in acting where the script demanded it. “Go back outside.”

“But—”

“Go, i’m a grown man, I can fight my own battles, now go back out there.” His voice back to its usual soft tone, she shot the other man a sharp glare before returning back through the swinging door “go sit down! Away from the door!”

“FINE!” She’d have only lingered behind that door again if he hadn’t told her not to. Steve kept an eye on the door for a moment, just in case, before turning back to Kas, his shoulders slumping as a deep sigh escaped him at the sight. The poor guy was backed right into that little gap, rolling pin clutched tight to his chest, this was a bad idea, he looked so freaked.

“I’m sorry.” Steve breathed softly. “I’m sorry for Robin, she’s uh—she’s protective, and um, for turning up out of nowhere, for scaring you, I really didn’t mean to turn up at your work, this was… this was hugely by a weird amount of chance,I just… I was going to go to your gig? We even bought clothes for it but uhm… shit, I should have just... I dunno, dm’d you or something, it would have been easier.” Probably wouldn’t have wasted the money on the flights or the apartment that way, Kas could have just rejected him over DM! “And uh… I’m not stupid, like… I know I don’t know you, I still don’t know your actual name, or if you even like guys, I wasn’t assuming just… hoping, but… I dunno, I was hoping at dinner I could get to know you an y’know… we’d hit it off despite our obvious differences in musical preferences…” maybe they could have been friends if nothing else.

The silence drew on for a moment, Steve had said his piece, and Eddie was clearly processing it, eyes flitting, micro expressions creasing his brow, his jaw shifting in a way that made it obvious that he was chewing on the inside of his cheek, and the grip on the rolling pin had relaxed again.

“…You were going to come to my gig?”

“Mmhm, Tuesday 9pm, right? Robin forced me to get different clothes because what I was going to wear probably wouldn’t have cut it.”

“What were you going to wear?”

“You’ll mock me.”

“I won’t.”

“You will”

“I promise I won’t.”

“…Promise?”

“Scouts honour.” He even put the rolling pin down to do the little hand gesture. Cute, Steve thought to himself.

“I’m dubious of your history of boy scoutery” he could see the quirk of a lip, just a little ghost of a smile at the corner of Kas’s lips “but fine, okay, I’ll trust you to be gentle, I have this really nice grey sweater vest, and I was gonna put a—” his words cut short by the snort of a laugh that bubbled from his ridiculous crush “You said you wouldn’t laugh!”

“Sweetheart, I said I wouldn’t mock, I said nothing about laughing” sweetheart, sweetheart, sweetheart— moving on. “A sweater vest at a metal gig? Cute.” The way his voice dipped? Unfair on every level.

Every single goddamn level.

“Y-yes well, now I have a new outfit, so you won’t get to see the sweater vest.”

“Oh, oh no” Kas clutched his hand to his chest as if pained “the pain! Jail for you, jail for one hundred years, you’ve hurt me so very deeply. Jail for the pretty boy.” Pretty boy? Steve felt those invasive little bastard butterflies kick up a flurry in his chest, pretty boy? “I really won’t ever get to see the sweater vest? That’s just a goddamn travesty, truly” it sounded sarcastic but honestly it also didn’t. It was a weird mix, like he was taking the piss but also being genuinely honest. “Worst punishment you could give me, no sweater vest for Eddie.”

Eddie.

“No sweater vest for Eddie” Steve parroted with a smile so full of sunshine warmth that Eddie couldn’t stop himself from mirroring it. Maybe… maybe it wasn’t a lost cause then… maybe he could still make this work maybe— “So… uhm… dinner?” Maybe he wouldn’t get shot down if he asked again.

“…Ask me again after the gig if you enjoy the show.” Oh the hopes, they were HIGH, he knew he’d like the show! He knew he would! “Now, about that coffee you and your menace to society came in for.”

“Fuckin heard that you moms' basement dwelling bitch baby!!”

“She seems lovely.” Steve only let out a quiet snrk of a laugh.

Part 9

#PirateWrites #crossing the line #Ficlet #steddie #no upside down au

[avelera]

Headcanon: ADHD Hob and Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria

So I went down the rabbithole on ADHD and rejection sensitivity dysphoria (and found this lecture that legit made me tear up if you have or think you have ADHD, go listen to it here) and it got me thinking, as everything is wont to do, about Hob Gadling and how if he had ADHD, which I think there's lots of fun in-text hints at that at least allow that interpretation, what are some other ways that could manifest besides his ebullient and never-ending love of life in all its endless variety?

So as sufferers of ADHD know, it's not all fun and games. The flip side of living with a dopamine-starved brain that's always seeking out new experiences and seeing the world through that lens is that other emotions slam us hard too, like rejection sensitivity dysphoria aka, "the most minor criticism can feel like an actual knife in the chest, no I don't mean mildly bummed out, I mean full on fight-or-flight brain meltdown because someone told you a comma is in the wrong place in your manuscript (not that I'm speaking from personal experience yes it's that dumb)".

ANYWAY, so I'm thinking about Hob and RSD and specifically 1789.

Specifically the line, "It's just how it's done," referring to horrific practice of human trafficking and how Hob basically shrugs while, to his minor credit, looking suddenly uncomfortable and guilty, about the fact he actively profits from this industry, and the way he cringes in on himself when called out kinda seems to indicate that he knows it's a vile practice and isn't super comfortable with being reminded of his fact by someone he respects, like Dream.

A couple notes on that little exchange between Hob and Dream:

1 ) The face Ferdinand Kingsley-as-Hob makes in that moment is absolute textbook adult ADHD rejection sensitivity dysphoria. Namely, the point where you know criticism hits you like a knife in the heart, particularly from people you respect, and you just have to cover that flinch of literal physical pain with a careful poker face.

The way Hob's tone suddenly goes cold and with his very genteel, received-pronunciation manners he levels Dream with perhaps the closest he's ever come at this point to lashing out, "You're giving me advice...?"

I'm not saying that canonically it's RSD, or that neurotypical people don't suffer pain and disappointment when receiving disapproval, but to my eyes at least, Ferdie Hob takes Dream's comment very seriously, much more so than the comic counterpart did (who needed multiple nudges before he even realized what Dream was trying to tell him about getting out of the shipping business and still seemed a bit clueless about why Dream would want that or care by the end).

2 ) Going into proper headcanon territory, I personally chart Hob's journey from destitute to wealthy slave trader as the product of someone who stopped giving a shit about others after everything he suffered in the 1600s. To be perfectly clear, this is not a fucking excuse for it, it's an examination of motives.

Because technically, after everything Hob suffered in the 1600s, he could have emerged with more empathy for the plight of others. But clearly that didn't happen. From an entirely human motivation level, that leads me personally to the conclusion that since no one helped Hob when he was at his lowest (not even Dream, though I dearly wish it was otherwise and wrote extensively on what would have happened if he had) that led him to the belief, put simply, that fuck the world so long as he got his. Why should he care about anyone else if no one cared about him?

But to go back to the topic of this essay, RSD, there's an additional element to that theory on why and how Hob leaned into not giving a shit about others, and that missing factor from what's described above is the element of everyone is doing it. Specifically worded as, "It's just how it's done."

Another really fascinating lecture I listened to on ADHD talked about how the most common trauma reaction ADHDers have to their sense of rejection, shame, and guilt that comes the way our brains react to the world is by hiding. And that also got me thinking about 1789 Hob in this context.

Because Hob as we see him in 1589 is loud in his happiness. He's sitting there, bold as brass in the middle of the White Horse, showing off his wealth with a banquet, loudly declaiming about how he pretended to be his own son twice, worked in the Tudor shipyards (what would have been 50+ years before) and just how he spent the last 100 years working his way up to his knighthood. The man does not have an ounce of caution in him. But, he is also by far the happiest we ever see Hob (up until Dream ditches him in the middle of their date).

This is important because to my eyes, Hob is living openly and unashamed and with only the barest hint of caution typified by pretending to be his own son every couple decades. The way he describes his last 100 years sounds like an ADHD dream, basically getting a boat load of money from Caxton's printing press (basically the first tech startup unicorn of the modern era) and then running around wherever his interests took him where he also made money hand over fist, kept climbing, and eventually reached the point where he could purchase the acclaim and regard of a member of the (albeit minor) nobility. All of this after being born a peasant. That's just validation and money and prestige and getting to pursue your special interest and live as your authentic self all over the place. And I do mean authentic, Hob doesn't even seem particularly worried about talking openly in the White Horse about being 200+ years old, a strong case could be made that he's not that careful in his personal life either.

So anyway, Hob has this amazing century literally followed by the worst century imaginable, filled with the sort of horrors that can tear a man's soul asunder. Losing his family, his beloved wife in childbirth with their new baby, his adult son, his home, his money, everything he spent a century building. His title and name are gone too because of the nature of how he lost it with the accusation of witch craft, which also means he can't just fake being his own son again to get it all back because they're explicitly going to notice that this time.

And how did this all happen? Because Hob got noticed. He lived there 40 years, overconfident is his own words. Which is a wild thing to say about a bunch of witch hunters showing up at his door! He blames himself for being drowned as a witch. On the one hand, I imagine he has to think that way because otherwise he has to admit to the sheer brutal randomness of life, so in a way he's trying to take control of the narrative by blaming himself.

But it also smacks of ADHD again because ADHDers very commonly shift the blame onto themselves after years of their unique nervous system response making them a round peg in a square hole of wider society. We learn over and over that the mistakes we make are our fault, because of "laziness" or "apathy" which isn't apathy at all but deep agony over our inability to accomplish tasks in a neurotypical way without the support we need, but I digress. But it sure sounds like Hob may have been paralyzed by grief for literal decades and then blamed himself for not getting the mental spoons together in that context to move on and reinvent his life after losing his wife and child. Which would be a very ADHD thing to do.

So after this absolutely brutal smackdown by reality for living too openly, too loud, too ADHD, getting paralyzed by the powerful emotions he felt (if we follow the headcanon) over the grief and loss in his life, what is Hob's next step?

Hiding.

Blending in.

Not rocking the boat.

And again, not excusing it, there's plenty of other industries he could have gone into to blend in that didn't involve human trafficking. That said, if he went to sea, which we know Hob did on many occasions from the comic, it would be seen by his peers there at sea as a normal way to make one's fortune, and then.... well, we have as evidence that this is his current peer-group the sort-of pride with which Hob announces how he's making his fortune these days in the "shipping business", as if he's expecting Dream's approval.

That to me, reads a bit like the people pleaser/social chameleon aspect of ADHD. Hob is expecting to be praised for being successful by Dream the way he would likely be praised by his peers in the shipping business or among the wealthy privileged men of England. He's so steeped in that world now that he's clearly taken aback when Dream takes the (at the time more radical but not uncommon) stance of, "This is wrong."

And Hob knew it. But he was blending in. He was going along with how things are done. He wasn't rocking the boat. He has other hints at trauma responses too, "salting money around the world" in case there's political upheaval, for example. This is not the loud, boisterous Sir Robert Gadlen untouched by loss or trauma. He has been humbled and tempered and, indeed, made afraid by what happened to him.

This sort of wild swing towards protectiveness? Again, also ADHD. As the lecturer I linked first noted, ADHDers are textbook defenders. They are always defending themselves from the world that can suddenly, unexpectedly, plant a knife in their heart because of a perceived rejection. From a world that wants their brain to work in a way it doesn't, so they have to come up with myriad painful coping mechanisms to fit in, blend in, mask, and function. Hob was forced to protect himself after the 1600s, so he did, with money, and with not caring about other people, and with insulating himself from privilege, and becoming a social chameleon.

1589 Hob tries to earn back Dream's interest, but he doesn't fawn. Dream shows interest in Shaxberd and Hob, already starting to get irritated, tells him no, Shaxberd is crap.

And you can tell in 1789 that Hob is thinking about that day again when he gets Dream's disapproval, because who does he reference? That lad, Will Shaxberd. He's fearing rejection and abandonment again, or at least it's crossed his mind after Dream's admonishment. But this time, Hob is fawning more, very nearly flirting. He's trying to play the game better this time, trying to keep Dream's interest, social chameleoning the subject onto safer topics, things he thinks will interest Dream, as Shaxberd so clearly did, so let's talk about him if that's what you care about. Again, another ADHD social chameleon, people pleaser aspect. We are nervous empaths, we are constantly picking up a bazillion signals both real and imagined. And we're so fucking terrified of that RSD knife in the heart, we become people pleasers to avoid it. After the shipping business brag fell through, Hob pivots to talking about Dream and what, in his experience, Dream seems to like and talk about favorably.

So anyway, many many ADHD-esque rambling words later, there's a few more little details I'd add to the list of "possible ADHD behavior, not just the fun parts" for Hob Gadling. Is it canon? Maybe not. But it does make for a great headcanon, in my opinion.

#hob gadling #the sandman #sandman meta #adhd #omg this got so long lol that's perfect fits the subject huh

[angelkissiies]

Closed hand or open fist

the joker x reader

TW : massive trigger warning for most things in this story. implied non-con. male masturbation. blood kink. extreme violence. trauma kink. stockholm syndrome development. glorified abuse. cutting/stabbing. branding in a sense. im sure there’s more im forgetting but please proceed with caution! minors dni, 18+ please.

part 1/?

word count : 2709

The breath caught in your throat, chest heaving with enough force to send you to the ground if you hadn’t been strapped painfully tight to the freezing metal chair. What was just a normal night shift at the hospital turned into everyone in Gotham's worst nightmare, as you clocked out and headed out to your car- you were chloroformed and stuffed into the trunk of a nearby Cadillac. Which brought you into the moment now, half aware and half filled with terror at the sight of the man in front of you. You knew of him, seeing as his men had hired you for a job and by hired, you meant that they threatened to kill your family if you didn’t follow through with his orders. That being said, you had never actually seen the man. As you took him in, your eyes lingered on the harsh protruding scars around his mouth. No amount of describing would ever be able to properly illuminate the aura of darkness that shrouded the man, from head to toe he exuded terror.

His voice carried through the desolate room, devoid of all signs of human life. You'd have thought this was hell if you didn’t know any better. The smell of standing water and moss filled your nostrils as the door swung closed behind him. Well, well, well.” He licked his lips, giving a rugged smile as he bent down to your height momentarily. “I thought... No, I know... I told you.” tsk, tsk, tsk. In the same fashion a parent would scold a child, his words were filled with something more than disappointment, regret if you didn’t know any better.

“Please, I messed up. I’m sorry.” You whispered, words hanging helplessly in the dim light of the nearby window. From the island, you could hear the noise from the city. Honking, sirens, things you'd probably never hear again. It had been your one job, to get your hands on the interface for WayneTech. The interface would’ve given his men the ability to find the signals The Batman was working off of and take him down, that was if they could even get their hands on it. That's why it was your job, from the outside you were just a nurse- but over the past couple of years, you had begun to secure a gig as a house call nurse for Bruce Wayne himself. That gave you the access, you just had to manage to pull it off. Obviously, you had failed.

The Joker was known for his thin patience, which only made sense now as you finished your sentence his fist made contact with your jaw, sending the chair and yourself teetering backward. He managed to snag it before it fell, jerking you upright at a nauseating speed. “Nuh-uh, nope. Not this time, doll.” He chuckled, cracking his knuckles as he stretched his fingers out. They were covered in bruises and dried blood, his movements opening recent cuts. He didn’t seem to care, his eyes focused on the blood that had begun to pour from your mouth. It was an unnatural red, like the red he painted his lips searching for the dopamine rush that followed fresh blood.

You felt dazed, in all honesty- you’d never been hit before and god, it was much worse than you could’ve imagined. Your head spun, the iron leaving a sickening feeling on your tongue as it fell from your lips to stain your scrubs. “Pl..-” You tried to form words but the ache in your jaw was too painful, sending shooting pain as you opened and closed your mouth. Was he going to kill you? Maybe. He was known for playing with his food and toying with his victims before finding the worst possible way to end their lives. You could only imagine the horror awaiting you as he paced back and forth, his eyes never leaving your mouth.

He bent down close to your face, hand grabbing a chunk of your hair and yanking back to make you look him in the eye. He inched closer and closer until you could feel his breath fan against your face. The proximity made your stomach churn, moving your eyes from his in an attempt to distance yourself. “You…” He muttered, barely audible as his tongue flattened out against your jawline, lapping up a stream of blood that trailed to the corner of your lips. A guttural sound left his lips as he pulled away, now tinted a darker red than normal. “You taste almost too good to kill.” He smirked, using the pad of his thumb to smudge the blood along your obviously broken jaw. It hung bruised and limp, trembling slightly due to your anxiety.

“Do you know what you’ve cost me?” The man prodded, moving to grip your chin roughly. That itself prompted a painful scream to fall from your lips, the striking ache in your jaw magnified by ten times. It was enough to make you begin to cry, the tears had been fought off for so long because of the shock of it all but as the pain sank in, that all changed. There were streams of hot tears running down your face as the man watched in pure delight. Your pain was a drug to him. Every scream, every whimper, every tear. It was orgasmic.

You gave him a feeble nod, spitting blood out of your mouth to avoid choking on it. “I’ll.. fix.. It.” You manage, shuttering as you feel the blood run down your neck. It was a disgusting feeling, even though it was your own blood. It was thick and hot, mixed with saliva to some degree. It just felt violating to be marinating in your own bodily fluids. “I… I swear.” You meant it, if he let you live, you’d do whatever it took to get the interface. Hell, you’d even sleep with Bruce if that's what had to happen.

The Joker licked his lips, smirking lightly as he jostled your face slightly before jerking his hand away. Soaking up the look that crossed your face as you bit back another scream. “Oh yeah? You mean that?” He took a step back from you, eyes narrowing as he took in the sight of you. A disheveled mess, but not nearly as black and blue as he liked his women. What a shame, he could surely fix that with no problem, right? Before you could even suck in a breath, his fist made a home in your eye socket with the force of god himself.

The pressure was enough to make you almost vomit, the chair shaking erratically on two legs as it fought to stay upright. Your vision went in and out, blurring due to what you could only assume were a couple of broken blood vessels in your eye. Ragged gasps left your mouth, your body trembling as the throbbing began. It took only a few seconds for your eye to swell up enough to make it impossible to open or close. Your hands pulled at the restraints, wanting badly to curl up in a ball and comfort yourself.

“Look at me.” He demanded, wiping away some sweat from his brow that in turn wiped away some of his face paint.

Barely able to lift your head, you looked at him. One eye was swollen shut and turning a sicky blue, your jaw hanging limply with a bruise the size of a peach blossoming, you were covered in a thick layer of sweat and blood that stained your work scrubs and tinted your skin. If he’d hit you anymore than he had, you’d probably look like a walking corpse. The thought almost made him giggle, that was, if he wasn’t thinking about the way your blood had tasted on his tongue. His thoughts had strayed from pure torture to his own form of torture porn. His brain was developing sick fantasies of ways he could utilize you. With a broken jaw, he thought of just how wide your mouth could open. Of the pain you’d feel as he throat fucked you as rough as he could, getting off at the sound of your cries as his cock hit the joint that had cracked under his pressure.

The man pushed your shirt up, until it rested on your chest- uncovering your stomach only. The exposure made you shiver slightly, goosebumps rising on your skin as you watched his movements. From his pocket, he pulled something silver that glinted in the light the window provided. “Have you ever wondered how farmers figure out which cattle are theirs when they share communal fields with other farmers?” He asked, the question seeming completely random at such a time.

“No?”

“Well, they use something to mark their cattle. Some farmers like brands, others use tags. Understand? It’s not about making the cattle comfortable, but making them noticeable. You have to know it as soon as you see them or else it's a failure.” The man was so close you could feel the way his hands shook, and telling from his expression it wasn’t out of fear or pain, but out of excitement. Pure adrenaline coated joy was the source of his tremors, which didn’t make sense until you felt something sharp and cold press into your ribcage.

The tip of a knife.

From his pocket, he had drawn a switchblade which he now held to your warm skin- a nagging temptation to just end it now. The ache in his hands begged him to plunge the knife in, to watch the horror on your face as life drained from your body. The idea made his body tense up, blood flooding his cock as it grew in his dusty slacks. The images flashed through his head, fucking into you as you slowly bled to death. Your last living memory of being used by The Joker himself felt like the ultimate sin, it was something he could barely get his mind off of as he pushed the tip of the knife into your skin.

A feral groan left his mouth as blood began to pour from the open wound. It was so fresh, the warm liquid coating his fingers as he tore through the flesh. Every movement made you cry out, adding to his mental store of mastubation material. Your body shook under his touch, cringing away from the pain as he kept going. He was taking his time, going slowly to draw out the raw ecstasy he felt listening to your pathetic whimpering. “You are my cattle now, doll. Understand?” He grunted, chest heaving as he pulled the knife away. On your ribcage sat a capital ‘J’ as a claiming brand, you now belonged to The Joker. One of his many pets, someone he was going to manipulate for the rest of your days on this earth. God help you.

“Y-yes.” You sputtered, taking shallow breaths as the blood loss began to set in. Black spots clouded your vision as you swayed in and out of consciousness. On the floor around you was a large puddle of your blood, more than the amount that was healthy to lose in one sitting- you knew that for sure. Even if you weren’t a nurse, that was still way too much. If you could look in a mirror, you were more than sure that you looked like death itself. A walking reminder of who ran this city.

A sinister smile took to his lips as he nodded gently, “That’s a good girl.” He praised the faux care in his voice causing a knot to form in your stomach. You hated him but you were made to worship him. From the moment you’d begun to work for him, all other things dissolved away. Your life revolved around him now. “Oh boys!~” He sang out, his voice echoing through the empty halls of the old Arkham Asylum.

Was it over?

Two large men in masks came through the door, guns strapped to their hips. They said nothing as they moved across the room, avoiding eye contact with their boss as they unstrapped your arms from the chair. They were the same men from earlier tonight, the two that had haphazardly tossed you into the trunk of a car to bring you to this hellhole. They brought you to your feet, hoisting you up as they drug you out of the room. The ache had begun to settle in your bones, exhaustion coated terror clouding your mind as your slipped from consciousness- left to the mercy of two masked goons.

The Joker watched them take you away, jaw clenching as he saw the way you slumped into their arms. As the door closed, he released a shaky breath. He was alone now, the building had only occupied him and his two men he’d requested to work tonight as his sole goons. Usually, he’d have his entire group here, but he was beyond happy for the solitary confinement of it all. It gave him time to think, it was disgusting- he knew that. That’s why he liked it so much, he was much more of a sicko than most of Gotham knew. He knew one thing for sure, he couldn’t stop fantasizing about the way your blood would coat his cock like a makeshift lubricant. How he could fuck your throat no problem with how much blood had collected in your cheeks, how he didn’t even have to get you wet to take his cock. All he had to do was rub your blood down the shaft and force it in. You’d loosen up eventually for him. You’d grow accustomed to his size and the pain would subside, though he wasn’t sure he wanted it to. He was dying to hear the cries for help that would leave your lips as he bent you over the window seal- pushing you dangerously close to the edge as he took advantage of you. So far from the city that no one could hear you, but so close you could hear the distant sounds of life.

He stepped toward the chair you had been taken from, sitting down in the puddle of your blood that had begun to dry on the metal surface. It seeped into the material of his pants, the now cooled liquid dripping down his thighs as it searched for its home on the floor. His hand trailed down to his crotch, his slacks painfully tight. The man pulled his belt off, discarding it absentmindedly as he made haste to pull his cock free from its restraints. The cool air made him tense up, goosebumps arising on his exposed skin. A deep groan left his mouth as he spread the precum that accumulated on the tip, the sensation sending a jolt through his body. His hand dropped down onto the floor, fingers dipping into the puddle of blood before reconnecting with his stiff cock. The dark red liquid dripped down the shaft, the sight itself enough to make him come unraveled.

His free hand searched his front pocket, pulling out his phone. He turned the camera around on himself, hitting record as he began to pleasure himself. Hand pumping up and down on his cock, elicitng the most erotic noises he’d ever made. The blood was so slick, he could almost imagine how fresh blood would feel. His stomach contracted, head falling back as he recalled those noises he drew out of you earlier. Every whimper you’d let out from his touch, the way your screams sent a thrill throughout his body. He wanted that again, he wanted you back. If he didn’t stop himself, he probably would male his men bring you right back. The idea of locking you up here with him, no escape and no way to say no. A moan slipped through his lips, abs tensing as strings of hot cum shot from his cock. He kept stroking himself, milking every ounce of cum he could. The phone trembled in his hands slightly as he stopped the video, letting himself slump back against the chair. He looked no better than you did, coated in cum and blood as he thought about his next moves.

“Fuck.”

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