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peachesofteal · 4 months

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Dead Disco / Chapter 11

Dead Disco masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 2k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: no smut but this fic contains mature themes. Relationship issues, arguments. Angst. Toxic behavior. Johnny is struggling. Everyone is going through it. Johnny struggles.

"No contact?!" Johnny chokes, and you hesitate on the other end of the line, sharp breath rattling through the speaker phone.

“My… my therapist thinks it would be good, to try it. For thirty days. Just to see how I feel.” Johnny’s fingers stretch across the front pocket of his pants.

Thirty days?

You’ve already been gone five, and it feels like five years.

He balks. No. No, this. This can't be. You have to be home, with them. Where you belong. Where they can fix it.

“Ye… no, I thought… I thought this was just a break?” He doesn’t recognize his voice. It’s ragged and torn to shreds, and now fear makes it tremble.

What does this mean?

“It is, it is. I just… I have to try this.” You sound as sad, as fucked up as he does, and he wants to scream, throw the phone against the wall, say screw it all to hell and go over to your rental, bang on the door until you let them inside.

“Of course, darling.” Simon soothes, and Johnny stares at him like he's lost his grasp on reality. Of course? Of course?! “We understand, we… we can do that. We’ll do whatever you want.”

“No.” Johnny cuts in, he can’t stop himself, can’t control his mouth. He can’t agree to this, to not talking to you, or seeing you for thirty days. He can’t do it. “I-“

“ Johnny.”

“Johnny-“ You both say his name at the same time. Yours is a plea. Simon’s is cautionary, finger seeking the mute button, cutting you out of the conversation for a split second, long enough for him to utter a warning.

“Do not push her on this. We need to let her decide right now. She’s in control.”

“Hello?”

“We’re here.” Simon assures you, unmuting the phone. “We understand. No contact, thirty days. Will you reach out, afterwards?”

“I… I will, I promise.”

“And you’ll take care of yourself?” There’s a pause on the other end of the line, a gulp. Simon’s façade cracks, enough that Johnny can see the fear that lurks there, the worry.

“Ye-yeah. I am. I will.”

“Will you come to bed?”

Johnny’s thumbs press together, overlapping where his fingers stay knitted tight, grasping onto one another like he’s holding onto himself for dear life.

He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath in and then releases it slowly through his nose. It’s a self-soothing technique, one he’s seen you do a million times. But once he’s done, his response is no less acidic. “I cannae sleep.”

Silence is his answer, until-

“Johnny.” Simon’s forearm wraps across his shoulders, pulling him backwards from the stool and into the cushiony warmth of his chest, heat burning into his back. Simon’s always been a furnace, a giant, weighted, heated blanket, his touch one of safety, security. Care.

But right now, all it feels like is anguish.

“Si.” He croaks, tears welling up behind his eyes. “I cannae do this any longer. I cannae… I need her back.”

“We need to be patient, and respect-“

“Respect?” Johnny blurts, incredulous. “No, No, I… We should be there, right now. We should be standing outside her door, we should be fightin’ for her, nae sitting ‘ere, waiting. Showin’ her how much she means; how sorry we are.” The warmth pulls away, an exasperated sigh blowing across the back of his neck.

“I’m not having this conversation again.” Simon is curt, growing cold, and it fuels the burning rage building inside Johnny’s stomach.

“Of course, because why would ye? It’s already settled in yer mind, isn’t it? That we just sit here, and wait, and let her slip away because ye coudnae keep yer mouth shut!” He’s said the same thing a thousand different ways over these last three weeks. Dressed Simon up and down six ways to Sunday over it, different verbiage each time.

The conversation always ends the same.

“Can you forgive me?”

“Of course I can but I’m still mad at ye.”

The anger foils away, ebbing into sadness, despair, and Johnny’s sight goes black when he buries his face in his hands.

“I miss her.” He whispers to the floor. The warmth returns and wraps him in a snug embrace, soft words hummed against the shell of his ear, each one punctuated with a kiss.

“I know, I know you do. I do too.”

“You nearly got yourself blown up!” Simon roars, and Johnny nearly flinches, steeling himself against his partner’s anger. “You can’t be makin’ stupid decisions like that. You jeopardized-“

“I knew what I was doin’. Dinnae question me, ye dinnae know anything about the tech behind those explosives, and ye know it.” He stands a little straighter, indignant, insulted, and Simon’s eyes narrow, before squinting, tension shoving his shoulders down in a slump.

This isn’t like them. They’re always in lock step. One unit. One person, two hearts.

The cot creaks beneath Simon’s weight, elbows against his knees.

“Johnny, what’s going on?”

“What do ye mean?” Dirty, cheap laminate flooring stares up at him, patterns in the grit swirling together like sand.

“You’re not yourself. Price mentioned-“

“Ye and Price talkin’ ‘bout me?” Unsettled anger rattles him, immediate demand rising through his blood. Simon holds his hand up.

“No. He was concerned, said you were a little rash the other day, on the recon. Asked if everything was alright.” He blinks. Blinks over and over, tries to quash the surging agony, the upheaval of his stomach. He fights it, tries to breathe through it, tries to stop it in his tracks, but a big grip wraps around his wrist, and tugs.

He’s settled into Simon’s lap without another word, his nose to his neck, fingers stroking through his mohawk.

“It’s going to be alright. You’re alright. We’re going to get her back, love.”

“I cannae do this. Ye dinnae know-“

“I know.” He squeezes him, calming him, and Johnny melts a little, sharp blade of the pain turning dull. “I know that the best thing we can do right now is be patient, and respect what she’s asked us to do. When she’s ready, she’ll let us know, and we’ll do everything we can, to try to fix it. To make it better.”

“I feel like there’s a hole-“ His hand rubs his chest, over and over, until the skin burns. “Like there’s a piece missing. I dinnae think I can do it, without her.” His voice breaks, and Simon’s attempt to calm him comes out like a strangled cry. “It hurts, Si.”

“We won’t. We just have to be patient, Johnny. We have to. We have to show her we can do it.” Simon murmurs, and then they both slip into a sad silence, Johnny huffing through his tears against Simon’s chest until he’s dragging them both down into the little cot, escaping into the comfort of uneasy sleep.

The flat is too quiet.

Lately, he’s been putting your favorite movies on in the small hours of the morning. Simon sleeps in now, restless until the sun starts to come up, and then he finally sinks beneath pull of dreams, or nightmares, whichever comes first.

So, Johnny curls up on the couch by himself, with your favorite tea, flip flopping between the rotation of movies that you always had rolling in the background, when you were painting, when you were cooking, or even reading.

But today, he paces. Back and forth from the bedroom, the kitchen, to the art room, the one you left half barren, the one that still holds nearly finished paintings, dried tubes of paint, stiff bristled brushes, long discarded for new ones, but not thrown away.

“I’m going to the gym, want to come?” Simon is hovering just outside the door, brows fixed together. He hasn’t stepped foot in here, Johnny has noticed, not since you left nearly a month ago. In fact, he avoids this room like the plague.

“No, ye go on.”

“You sure?” His head cocks in consideration, and then he nods.

“Yeah. Love ye.”

“Love you too. Be good.”

“Where the bloody hell have ye been?” Johnny seethes, arms crossed. Their half-eaten plates still sit cold on the table, mocking him since Simon left in the middle of the meal an hour ago.

“Out. For a walk.” The hoodie comes up and over his shoulders, and Johnny catches a whiff of it.

Cigarette smoke.

“A walk, eh? Ye out walkin’, and smoking?”

“Johnny.”

“Dinnae Johnny me, ye’ve been smoking, I can smell it.”

“I don’t want to do this right now.” He snaps, turning his back, heading into the bedroom, the bathroom.

“Ye dinnae want to do what?”

“This. Fight. Argue.” The shower clicks on, steam slowly building from the floor as Simon shucks his joggers, his boxers, Johnny’s eyes struggling to stay fixed on his partner’s face.

“I’m not arguing, I… I dinnae understand how ye can be so casual about this, it’s-“

“What am I supposed to do?” Simon turns on him, still angry, still hurt from their conversation earlier. It brews beneath the surface like a finely veiled stormed, just barely held back. “Lose my head? Fall apart?”

“I dinnae, talk to me?” Simon’s jaw clenches. Every scar on Simon’s back speaks to him, tells him stories, corroborates his witness accounts. Johnny wishes he could take them away; wishes he could kiss them.

But Simon feels so far away now. He’s felt miles away since you left, since the bed slept three, table slept three, couch held three.

“I’m right here, Si. I’m here.”

Johnny knows what he’s doing is wrong. He’s fully self-aware, but completely out of control. His legs carry him down the street on autopilot, barrage of requests and demands from his rational self trying to break through the encasement where he’s locked them away.

He shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t.

He can’t help it. He can’t do this… anymore. It’s killing him. It’s killing Si.

He worries it’s killing you.

He tells himself he’s just going to check on you, make sure you’re okay. He’s not going to bother you, just make you’re alive. He’s not going to stay, he’s just going to say hi, ensure you’re safe, healthy, and then leave.

If you even open the door.

Guilt, anxiety, fear all turns over in his stomach, freezing through his blood as he climbs the stairs to your long term rental. He just needs to see you, needs lay eyes on you, just once, and it will all be okay. He’ll be okay, once he knows you’ll be okay.

Simon is going to be so bloody pissed. He grimaces. He knows there will be hell to pay. That Simon will be enraged, disappointed. That he’ll be upset.

They made a promise. He made a promise.

And now he’s going to break it, just like that.

He stands outside your door for too long, contemplating. Trying to sift through every decision he’s ever made, that led him to this point. He could still turn around, still go home, even though his finger is itching to ring the bell, a burning desire searing through his mind, urging him forward until his forehead is thunking softly against the wood, eyes closing.

Darling.

He can still see your face, your smile. The ways your eyes light up, the way your voice sounds when you say his name.

“I need ye, we need ye.” He whispers to no one, and then his finger presses the button, breath holding in his chest.

A few seconds pass. He strains to listen, latching onto the sound of footsteps inside, the click of a lock, the creak of the hinges, and then the door opens wide, revealing you on the other side.

“Darling.” You’re haunted, a flicker of a memory, a sharpened shadow sawing into the soft matter of his brain. You blink like you're trying to clear your vision, like you're struggling to see him, and he offers you an uneasy smile, something nervous and unsettled. You shake your head, mouth open in surprise, confusion, eyes wide.

“Johnny.”

#peaches writes #dead disco #ghost x soap x reader #ghoap x reader #soap x ghost x reader #ghost x reader x soap #simon riley x reader #simon riley #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader

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letters-to-lgbt-kids · 3 months

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My dear lgbt+ kids,

So, you have been in a relationship for a while and you’re ready and eager to take the next step - but your partner isn’t. What now?

The “next step” I’m referring to here could mean a lot of different things because relationships do not all follow one specific timeline (and also because my readers may be of wildly different ages and live in wildly different situations) but I am thinking of any “deepening our commitment” things here: for example introducing them to your friends or your family, moving in together or (if you are in a situation where that’s a legal possibility) even marriage or having a child together.

Whatever the step actually looks like, you may have this romantic idea of “If they’re right for you, you’ll always naturally want to take these steps at the same time”… but that’s not really how relationships work in real life. Even in the healthiest relationship and even if you absolutely feel like they’re your soulmate, you may still disagree on when to take those steps or even on whether you want to take these steps at all.

In fact, it’s uniquely frustrating if everything else is going well. If their refusal to meet your mom is just another point on the long list of behaviors that make you feel like they don’t really care about you, that’s also painful but it’s easier to give advice there: maybe you should think about breaking up. It’s tempting to believe that you can make them love you more if you move in with them or that they’ll treat you better once you get engaged, but that won’t work out. You can’t fix a broken relationship by deepening the commitment - commitment needs a stable foundation to grow. And this doesn’t only go for outright abusive relationships: they may be a wonderful person but you two just have entirely different goals and needs, and those won’t suddenly overlap more just because you moved in with them or married them.

With all that being said: if there IS a healthy and stable foundation, if you are happy in every other aspect and they’re just hesitant about this one specific step, then jumping straight to “break up with them” would obviously be pretty unhelpful advice. Differing opinions occur even in the most compatible couple, you are both whole people with your own individual feelings and those do not necessarily doom the whole relationship. It’s important to see this situation in the context of the relationship in general.

You may be able to guess that a big portion of the advice is just gonna be “Communicate with your partner” - but first of all, I’d advise you to have an open and honest conversation with yourself. Why is this step of commitment so important to you? What does it mean to you? Do you feel a sense of urgency in taking it and if so, why? Is this specific step the only possible path for your need to be met? Are you open to alternative approaches, are you open to waiting (and if so, for how long)? The purpose of these questions is definitely not to convince yourself to give up on your needs or to talk yourself into a compromise you’re not really happy with! The opposite of that, actually: It’s helpful to reflect on what exactly you want and why you want it, so you have the clarity you need to discuss it productively. You don’t want to agree to something that ultimately leaves you unsatisfied and bitter, but you also don’t want to push hard for something you later on realize doesn’t even mean that much to you.

When you feel confident enough about your own stance to discuss it with your partner, the most important thing to remember is: you’re on the same team. The goal here isn’t to “win” or to change their mind, but to see each others perspective better and find a solution you’re both happy with. Listen with an open mind. Try to understand before you try to influence. Remind yourself that your partner isn’t your enemy, they also want the best outcome for both of you - otherwise you (hopefully) wouldn’t want to commit to them!

Something you should get clarification on during your conversations: is it a hard no (do not want to do that at all ever), a soft no (open to alternatives or adjustments), a no for now (want to do it but not yet), a yes but (want to do it but only under certain circumstances or in a different way than your original plan) or a I don’t know? How does this affect your feelings on the situation? (I’m sure that even just while reading these different scenarios, some instinctively feel better or worse than others! But it’s still important to take some time to sit with any new information that comes up during those conversations. Neither of you should feel pressured or rushed here!)

You may find that they just never considered that there may be multiple approaches to that step (an example for this would be that they are not actually opposed to the idea of being married to you, just to the idea of a wedding, and didn’t consider yet that eloping is also a possibility) - but don’t set yourself up for disappointment by expecting the conversation to 100% go that way. It may also be a hard no, and that wouldn’t make them a horrible person. People can deeply, truly love someone and still do not want to take certain steps with them. It’s a good idea to remind yourself that you’re not “in the right” or “the better person” for wanting to take those steps. While certain steps may be a big part of your own future plans or even of your identity and self-image (and that’s valid!), they are just personal preferences. It’s not a moral obligation to want them, and your partner isn’t mean for not wanting them. But, of course, at this point we also need to say: if you can not imagine a life where you never get married, you are not a horrible person for breaking up with a partner who can not imagine to ever marry. “Irreconcilable differences” are a common breakup reason for a reason.

So, to summarize: Building a strong foundation is crucial before taking big steps. Communicate openly with yourself first - understand why you want to take this step and if there are alternatives. When talking to your partner, remember you're a team; it's not about winning but understanding each other. Be open to different responses, from a clear no to conditions on a yes. Do not pressure your partner but do not completely give up on your own happiness either.

The journey of commitment should be a shared adventure - not a battle or a competitive race!

With all my love,

Your Tumblr Dad

#lgbt #lgbt+

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toruro · 6 months

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— ✧ flight of the stars (teaser)

read the full fic here!

"It’s funny; Minghao’s whole career is about being in the driver’s seat but somehow when it comes to you, he doesn’t know when to press on the gas or hit the brake."

genre: smut (18+ / mdni), f1 au, brief high school au, angst, fluff

description: being a doctor, you think you should feel guilty when you start to enjoy the presence of a “regular” a little too much, but who can blame you for missing your patient when he's xu minghao. you know—the xu minghao: crown jewel of SECTOR Racing, top pick of the season, and possibly the one person who knows more about you than anyone else in the world.

tags: character death (not reader / hao), discussion of medical issues, descriptions of pain, pining, racer minghao, physiotherapist reader, probably inaccurate representation of physiotherapy, also featuring kwannie, hansol, cheol, wonwoo, & hannie

w/c: teaser 580+, full fic estimated ~15k (currently at 10k!)

estimated release: if not in time for his birthday (11/07), it will be done by the end of the month! join my taglist if ur interested!!

Jeonghan opens the door from the other side and quietly closes the door behind him before pushing you a little deeper into the hallway. “He seems like, really sad, so—”

“Well, obviously. It’s a serious injury,” you say with a roll of your eyes. Jeonghan clicks his lips and nudges your shoulder.

“Whatever. I’m just telling you to tread carefully,” he says as you make your way to the door. You don’t respond to Jeonghan as you slip in. Minghao’s turned away from you as he sits on his wheelchair in the middle of the room you purse your lips before taking a deep breath and nodding.

You got this. Seungkwan was right—you’ve worked too hard for too long to be rendered anxious ‘cause of a silly little overlap of your past with your patient.

“Hi Mr. Xu,” you greet, making your way to the table right by where he sits, finally seeing him up close. He doesn’t look at you. “I’m pretty sure you already have heard enough about what’s wrong with your neck right now, so let’s talk about how we can make it better, yeah?”

You hear a gruff, “Sure,” escape his lips, and you figure that given his circumstances, it’s understandable.

“The report says that when you first started feeling the pain you couldn’t move your right arm even a little without it hurting in your neck, right?” you clarify as you sit at the chair between him and your table.

“Yeah.”

“Is it better now?”

“A little. Can move my forearm but moving my shoulder still hurts.”

“Okay, this is a good sign actually—you’re getting through the initial stages of healing just like normal. The first week or so of strain like yours might be pretty painful, but it’s over quickly and the pain after that should be pretty bearable, although it’ll take more time for it to heal.” You tell him, looking away to glance at the scans.

As he stares at the ground, Minghao wants to scream. Good sign? What the fuck are you talking about—he can’t even lift his goddamn arm without it feeling like there’s daggers plunging into his neck, and you’re here sitting all calm faced, pristine, acting like this isn’t his fuckin’ career on the line. Acting like your words are gonna make a difference as long as he’s in this stupid ass brace with this stupid ass injury in this stupid ass room with—who the fuck even are you?

His head hurts, and Minghao thinks it’s partly because of his neck, but it’s mostly because he can’t stop thinking. Thinking about the worst possibilities, thinking about everything that could go wrong and—well shit, he chides himself for letting his anger get the better of himself, even if it was just in his head.

Shamefully, he presses his eyes shut and takes a deep breath before finally lifting his gaze and turning to face you. When you look up from your paper and finally turn back to him, you’re met with the sight of pretty brown eyes staring right back at you.

“I—” Minghao starts, but it sounds like the air got stuck in his throat as he finally takes in your figure, and then he purses his lips together and turns back away. “Nothing.” The possibilities of what he could have been thinking ruins your mind just a little.

You can see it in his eyes—Minghao remembers. Still, he doesn’t say anything about it, and you wonder if you prefer things to stay that way.

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artheresy · 3 months

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I can’t stay quiet about this, I need to scream it to SOMEBODY ANYBODYYY

Dan Heng and Blade were Dan Feng and Yingxing. “Dh and Bld are Df and Yx!” Nope, their current selves aren’t them, that lacks nuance. “Dh and Bld aren’t Df and Yx!” THAT ALSO LACKS NUANCEE they are still connected and fundamentally shaped by their past identities, they aren’t entirely separate from them while also still being separate in a way. The best way I can describe it is like a venn diagram, there is overlap, but there also are still areas where they don’t.

To expand more, I wanna talk about the way they foil each other a bit in this sense. For Dan Heng, even if he is a botched rebirth, simply a “de-aged Dan Feng” not fully reborn, he is still not Dan Feng. While Dan Feng has made up the basis of his personality and he accepts him as his past, I think we forget that Dan Heng had his own entire childhood after the molting rebirth was completed. One he spent imprisoned by the Ten Lords Commission, and then he was exiled when he was old enough leading to his whole journey until he became apart of the Astral Express crew etc etc. Dan Heng is made up of a basis of Dan Feng + All of his own memories and experiences. While he shares traits with Dan Feng such as personality aspects like his stubbornness, his technique with a spear, and being able to connect with his old items, he also is very much himself with his own outlook and traits shaped by what he’s learned rather than what he has been born with. To treat him as if he is Dan Feng exactly is a disservice to both of their characters and the greater narrative that they apart of. He may still carry the burdens and karma of Dan Feng, but Dan Heng is still making his own future.

Now, Blade. Blade similarly is not Yingxing, not completely. Though he accepts Yingxing’s sin as his own and is intent of repaying the sin of Dan Feng and Yingxing (and getting Dan Heng to repay it too), there still are distinctions between him and Yingxing. In fact, I’d argue there are more things separating them. I could talk for so long again about the layered use of craftsmanship to connect, or rather disconnect, the two identities of Blade and Yingxing, but there’s more than that. “Now, ██ had died. His first — and only — death.” “From this moment on, that body will be the one and only "Blade."” Although Blade was Yingxing, a disconnect exists between them through the death of Yingxing. He awoke with no memories of his past, no even his name, until Jingliu came along, instilled in him her ideologies, made him remember, not only his past sins but the feeling of death so that he might inflict it onto others. As she said, he was reborn and had even given himself a name…

I want to add that the specific ways in which their current identities exist in proximity to their past ones foil each other. As I said, Dan Heng, in part as his sabotaged rebirth, is built upon the foundation of Dan Feng and all of his own experiences and memories. He has the capacity to gain back more memories of Dan Feng as his DH IL character stories outline, and though he is still himself and still moves forward, we see him accept his relation to Dan Feng eventually. Though that past life of his is clouded by fog and mist, he may eventually be able to push away the clouds that block him and understand more, about Dan Feng and in turn about himself. With Blade, it is so heavily emphasized in game from his relic lore to the very sword he uses that his mind is essentially broken, due both in part to the trauma of Jingliu’s “teachings” and the mara that was brought on by those lessons. He can’t fully remember everything about Yingxing, in fact actively remembering such or seeing familiar things is harmful to him. Like his shard sword, he is made of broken pieces, put together in a way that can never erase the cracks, and continuously shattering before being glued together again. His life is shaped by Yingxing’s past, the trauma he has endured is directly caused by his past actions. Unlike Dan Heng, he hasn’t had this whole life to build up and live. Though he’s experienced new things, they don’t shape him and change him in the way that Dan Heng’s built his identity up.

Where Dan Heng basically has supplements to Dan Feng’s identity that make him who he is, Blade is the broken shards and pieces of Yingxing that weren’t lost to the waves, making him who he is. Dan Heng is a next chance, finally free from the Preceptors’ control and of the role that stripped his past selves of their individuality, meanwhile Blade is the husk left behind of Yingxing’s regrets, broken by trauma caused due to Yingxing’s past actions, forever tormented by his past until he inevitably is able to die. If Dan Heng is more than just Dan Feng which is why he is separate but intertwined with him, than Blade is less than Yingxing, in a way that has caused such a severe disconnect that has caused Blade to have his own identity still shaped. And looking at this, not to again bring up my craftsmanship post about Blade, Dan Heng can connect to Dan Feng. He can clear the fog, remembering his memories through dreams even if he can’t fully connect emotionally to him, and he finds sentiment in many of items that once were his, smth not many Vidyadhara actually are capable of doing. To contrast, Blade is forever separated from connecting completely to Yingxing’s identity. His memories will always be fragmented, his own path entirely changed. He can’t connect to Yingxing’s past goals and passions, seen through the distinct decision made in his character stories to talk about how he can no longer use his hands to forge weapons (something that completely defined Yingxing’s life and legacy, tied to his childhood trauma and hatred of the Abundance, something that became his genuine passion), and how none of that mattered to Blade.

All of this, the ways they foil each other and the separation between their past selves and current, just makes me love their dynamic and their lore a lot. Makes me want to cry most days of my life if I’m honest. And it’s part of why I do take issue with the way nuance has completely left this argument, only having two extremes of “Dan Heng is Dan Feng!” Or “Dan Heng isn’t Dan Heng!” Again… Dan Heng WAS Dan Feng, he wouldn’t be Dan Heng without Dan Feng, but he is still himself. That’s part of the tragedy between them. They are still fundamentally defined and shaped by their past selves, similarities able to be spotted if they can be remembered, but they’ve also experienced so much that has changed them, and they can never truly go back to being Dan Feng and Yingxing. It would never be fully the same again.

#okay rant over #ahahahha #i hate seeing arguments about them #especially on tiktok this is unfortunately where i see the most nuance lost #i just needsd to rant #especially once my brain finally clicked how they foil each other in yet another element #that being ofc the supplement vs fragment style with their past selves #they make me insane #i hate them sm #(i love them way too much #they make me SICK #even if hyv has fucked up a bit in the actual quest writing at times #the sheer level of detail and care put into dan heng and blade’s lore is RAAAHH #i am having allergies #my leg pain is still awful today #and think about these two is only making my health worse HELP #hsr #honkai star rail #hsr blade #yingxing #dan heng #dan feng #renheng #hengren #xingyue #fengxing #I wrote this last night at 1 am but held off posting it until now o7

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ghostlygeto · 4 months

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elevator | james wilson

pairing: james wilson x fem!reader

warnings: more selfship! it’s all i write basically hehe, forced proximity, reader is referred to w she/her, reader is snippy and wilson is awkward, no romance just awkwardness, reading panics a little cos in small space, wilson comforts her, HAPPY ENDING :D but not romance. house’s shenanigans. not proof read….

word count: 2.1k

it was simple. walk from the morgue to the elevator, get off on the first floor, go to your car. at least it should be that easy. though for some reason this was always the hardest part of your day. it was the time you’re the most likely to see wilson, which made it the hardest.

you checked your phone, the time reading 10:07pm. technically he should be home by now. he usually tried to get all his things done and leave by 7:45pm. at least he used to. you hadn’t spoken to him in ages, not since the night you called him crying. but that was close to a year and a half ago now, maybe even two. you tried not to keep track, you realized after awhile that it caused more harm than good.

regardless, you make your way toward the elevator. first before you can leave you have to stop by house’s office, as he requested an autopsy report on one of the bodies recently brought down (why didn’t he do it himself you would never understand) and requested it be hand delivered, of course. you weren’t sure when you started giving in to his obscene requests and dealing with his sub-par personality again but you had, and unfortunately you weren’t hating it.

in a way it brought a sense of normalcy back. as much as you may hate to admit it.

“house,” you pushed his office door open, a little surprised to still see him here. “here’s the autopsy report you asked for.” you held up the folder and set it down on his desk. “i’ll see you tomorrow.”

“yep. tomorrow.” house raised his eyebrows and gave a fake smile, “have a good night!” there was something hidden in his tone, but you chose to ignore that for the time being. it didn’t matter now, you were going home. that is what mattered right now.

you turned your back to him, trying not to overthink the way that house was talking. you had known house long enough to know that most of the time he had ulterior motives. rarely did they include you, but you knew better than to think you were safe.

you pushed the elevator button to take you to the main floor, sighing as you heard footsteps behind you. because of course you couldn’t just ride the elevator on your own. the universe just didn’t work that way, not for you.

the elevator doors opened and it wasn’t until you pushed the lobby button that you saw the other person in the elevator.

“wilson,” you nod your head, forcing a smile as a greeting. the elevator ride would be two minutes, max. but god the idea of having to stand here with him for even that long made your stomach churn.

it’s not like it was your first time seeing him in three years. you work in the same building; even if he is on the fifth floor and you’re in the basement there are moments of overlap. catching glimpses of each other in the corner of your eyes or seeing each other in the cafeteria. but it was your frist time being in such close quarters to each other as soon as the doors closed you felt like you were suffocating. it was miserable.

wilson didn’t say anything in response. you didn’t turn to look at him, but you can imagine that he had his brows furrowed trying to figure out what you were doing on the fifth floor and what he could say to you to make things feel less tense. the answer to the second question was nothing.

“it’s late, what are you-” wilson’s sentence was cut off by the shake of the elevator stopping. both of your eyes shot up to the screen that showed what floor you were on, but it just flashed it’s lights at you.

great. of course the elevator decided to get stuck right now, at 10pm, when you were alone with wilson.

“are you serious,” you grumbled, hitting the door with the palm of your hand a few times before repeatedly pressing the lobby button. “of course this would happen. just my luck.” you rested your forehead on the cool metal, trying to calm yourself down. this was fine. everything is fine.

“i’m sure whatever the issue is they’ll have fixed soon.” wilson attempted to comfort you, knowing you already hate elevators as-is. he couldn’t have known that his words were only going to make you feel worse, the very sound of his voice making your stomach churn.

“right.” you nodded, correcting your posture and moving away from the door. the two of you stood in silence for two minutes before you gave in and sat down, putting your head between your knees.

wilson watched you carefully, clearing his throat and beginning to speak as he did so. “so, y/n. how- how have things been?”

“i’d prefer if you call me l/n,” you answer quickly, “things have been fine. i’m fine.” you could see the way he frowned from the corner of your eye when you asked him to call you by your last name. you didn’t want to have conversation, and you didn’t want him to treat you like a friend. because you were coworkers. nothing more, nothing less.

“don’t be that way,” he sighed, leaning against the opposite elevator wall and sinking to the ground. “you’re seriously going to make me call you by your last name?”

“why would you call me anything else?” you ask, tone harsher than intended. why were you being this way? maybe it was a defense mechanism, “you don’t call house greg, and he’s your best friend. i don’t see why you’d call me anything other than l/n. we’re coworkers.”

coworkers. that drew a scoff from wilson, “coworkers? that’s how you want to describe us?” wilson looked away from you for a second before running a hand through his hair. “i guess not talking for close to three years does take us back to square one. you’re right.”

“don’t do that,” you sneer, looking at him to meet his questioning gaze. “don’t say the you’re right thing to me. you only say that when you have something else to say. if you’re thinking something, just say it, wilson.”

wilson looked at you bewildered for a second before laughing, “jeez, you really still know me that well?” he shook his head, “i don’t think time can turn us back into coworkers, is all. i don’t think we’ll ever be back to just that.”

“strangers, then?” you offer, uncharacteristically cold. maybe you’d been spending too much time around dead people to remember how to socialize properly. or worse, too much time with house.

“quit being like that.” he shook his head at you, “just because we haven’t spoke doesn’t erase all our history as friends and…” he fell silent for a second before clearing his throat again. “beside the point, we aren’t strangers or just coworkers and you know that, l/n.”

you wanted to argue with him more, but you didn’t have it in you. not when you felt like the walls were shrinking with every breath you took. “fine.” you didn’t say anything else for a few seconds before speaking up again. “how’s your wife?”

wilson stiffened. bad, then.

“we actually never got married. she decided a few months before the wedding that she couldn’t handle being married to a man who is at work so much.” wilson rolled his eyes, “as if she didn’t have all the time in the world to decide that. had to wait until we were about to get married, right? how are things with your boyfriend?”

“i broke up with him shortly after…” you paused, knowing that the answer was shortly after the phonecall you two shared god knows how long ago. “i told my therapist about him, and she said that i should be with people who make me happy. not miserable. so i broke up with him.”

“i see.” wilson nodded, picking up on the fact that you were keeping part of the information from him. it didn’t matter, though, it wasn’t really his business. aside from the fact that he still cared about you, he had no reason to push for more details. “good for you, then.”

silence overcame the two of you once again, looking at the clock on your phone in hopes that it would somehow make the elevator magically work again.

it didn’t.

“it’s been ten minutes,” you groan, “what is taking them so long? you don’t think we’re like…stuck stuck do you?” you looked over at him, panic filled eyes as the thought sneaks its way into your head.

“why, you have somewhere important to be?” he raised an eyebrow before getting serious. “no, if we were stuck stuck i think cuddy would’ve called one of us by now. probably just an issue with something electrical. we’ll be out of here soon.”

you sigh, resting your cheek on your knee. “i have no one to be other than my bed it’s just…” you wonder if saying this is the right thing, but it seemed there was nothing better to do than to talk to each other. “being around you is hard. i feel like i’m going to explode. i want to explode.” you look at him, the slightly bewildered look making a smile creep up on you. “and making stupid small talk is killing me. it’s hard to be normal around you because i’m not sure what normal should be with us.”

wilson paused for a second. to be honest, he also didn’t know what normal was supposed to be between the two of you. but he wanted you to be comfortable with him. at the very least he wanted to be friends again. “i don’t know either. but we won’t know until we try, right? even if we have to relearn what normal means for us. we can do it. i’m- i’m willing to try. for you.”

“quit looking at me like that,” you roll your eyes a little, almost laughing as he feigns offense. “i suppose, maybe, i’d be willing to try and relearn. for you.”

a smile broke out on wilson’s face as his shoulders dropped, relief clear in his eyes. “things’ll be good. being friends will be good.” he sounded like he was trying to assure both of you (because he was) of the fact.

it seemed on cue that as you two made amends, the elevator started working again. you both sighed happily and stood from your places on the floor, relieved to be out of the metal death trap.

“i’m never getting in another elevator,” you mumbled, dusting any debris off your lab coat as the door opened. “i’ll see you soon, james.” you waved to him, quickly making your way out of the building and to your car. you passed house on the way, silently wondering how long he had been waiting in the lobby for wilson.

“so,” house tapped his cane against the ground as he approached wilson, watching you walk away. “how’d it go in there?”

“you had something to do with the elevator?” wilson wanted to be surprised, but at this point he was so used to house’s antics that he should’ve guessed it from the start. “you are unbelievable. you know she hates small spaces, you could’ve caused her serious issues-”

“but you were there with her. she would’ve been fine.” house rolled his eyes as the two of them started walking, “i was tired of both of you moping around. it was clear neither of you were going to make the effort, so i did it for you.”

wilson looked to his older friend bewildered, “you did something for the better of two other people? and you don’t get anything out of it? jeez, if i didn’t know any better i’d say you were a clone.”

“i am a clone,” house replied quickly, “and i do get something out of it. i get to be done hearing your longing sighs as you watch her walk past, and i get to stop seeing her stupid pouty eyes when she sees you in the cafeteria.” he paused, “do you want to get something to eat?”

“sure, house.” wilson accepted the offer, despite knowing he’d probably be the one to pay. “whatever you say.”

comments, reblogs, nd likes appreciated!!

#james wilson x reader #house md x reader #dr james wilson x reader #mine !!#jami !!#wilson x reader

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that-stone-butch · 8 months

Note

hi, i have a question and i mean this in good faith, but why do some butches get top surgery? you mentioned it in some of your recent posts and i’m just trying to understand. i 100% believe in bodily autonomy so i’m not judging anyone for that decision, i’m just trying to understand so i can support people better. obviously there’s a lot of overlap between butches and transmascs but i don’t really understand why someone who still identifies as a woman (not all butches do, but “lesbian”/“wlw” still implies some connection to womanhood) would want to have that surgery unless it was to prevent breast cancer? i have chest dysphoria too but i guess it’s not bad enough for me to understand this. is this higher level of dysphoria common in butches? again i mean this in good faith and i just want to understand. i wish you well for recovery and i hope everything goes smoothly!

my pal you have like fifty gender biases here that you're gonna want to unpack. this pile of questions has so much added baggage it's going to take so many steps to unpack holy shit

not all lesbians are women/have an 'implied connection to womanhood'

'top surgery' may mean mastectomy but there are also people out there who get 'top surgery' meaning breast implants, among whom some are butches, and for whom that is an equally momentous instance of gender-affirming care. is this a part of your question?

you don't have to understand why someone would want a procedure in order to support them

i cannot speak to whether or not butches experience an especially 'high level' of chest dysphoria

even if i could produce some statistic that indicates that we do experience a 'high level' of chest dysphoria, i am not especially equipped to speak for all of us as to why

i have no idea what amount of people counts as 'high' to you. is one in five high? one in ten? what if it was one in ten sure about getting top surgery, but an additional two in ten were considering it? would that be high, to you? i have no frame of reference for you

'has tits' does not necessarily mean 'is woman' and some women do not want to have tits. period

other people's chest dysphorias are going to look different from your own. there are as many different reasons to feel dysphoric about one's chest as there are people

like i'm taking your good faith seriously, but even if i wanted to answer these questions i couldn't. i'm just one person. so let me reiterate the only answer that matters:

you don't have to understand why someone would want a procedure in order to support them

#ask #anonymous #butch #trans

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loveandmurders · 9 months

Text

Finally found you (part II)

Hello everyone, I'm so happy you seemed to have enjoyed the first part of this soulmate AU with Bo Sinclair x female reader x Vincent Sinclair. You can find the first part here.

Hope you'll enjoy the second part! <3

For the moment, a third part isn't planned, but please let me know if you want more!

Warnings: a few strong words, the boys arguing and lying to you about Ambrose.

You slowly opened your eyes. You were feeling a lot better, just thirsty and a little bit hungry. But you were alright. Your head even stopped hurting. You wondered how long you had been out though. And more importantly, where were you?

When you fully went back to reality, you realised that two men seemed to argue in front of you. Well at least, one of them was angrily talking to the other one. After a few seconds your eyes were able to focus enough for you to make out that the man who wasn’t talking was actually answering back with sign language. His gestures were quick and aggressive, so you guessed he wasn’t happy either.

You softly groaned as you tried to sit up and both the men stopped arguing to help you out, making sure you weren’t going to fall.

“Ya good?” Bo asked you and you nodded. You recognised his presence from earlier and you guessed he was the one who carried you inside this house.

“Can I have water please?” you whispered and he was quick to go grab you a glass from the kitchen.

You turned your attention toward the other man. He was wearing a mask, and he seemed to be trying to hide it with his hair, a little bit self conscious. At the same time, he was staring at you with great intensity. But strangely enough, it wasn’t scaring you or bothering you. You even found it weirdly attractive. Probably because you could read strong desire for you in the way he gazed at you. You were quite curious about what was going on. You even wanted to ask why they were arguing, but you stopped yourself from doing so. You didn’t know them and you were grateful they took care of you when you fainted.

You thanked Bo when he gave you the glass of fresh water and you happily hummed as you sipped it, before leaning back against the couch. The drink helped you fully focus back as both the men never stopped looking at you.

“Thank you for having brought me here” you finally said because you didn’t really know how to handle such a heavy and tense silence otherwise “I think I collapsed… Is it Ambrose?” you asked, trying to recall what happened before you lost consciousness.

The masked man nodded.

“Yeah. Saw ya fallin’ on the ground like an angel reachin’ Earth” the other one said and it sounded a lot like flirting. The masked one seemed to roll his eye and then he crossed his arms on his chest. You nervously chuckled.

“Ain’t an angel unfortunately, or I wouldn’t have gotten lost” you replied

“Ya ain’t lost” the man shook his head with a little smile but you didn’t understand.

“Well I was supposed to go to Mexico, so it does look like I’m lost to me” you replied with a little frown even though you kept politely smiling at the man.

There was something about them… you could feel how dark and dangerous they were. It was as if you could read their minds and their desires. But you weren’t afraid, as if you knew that their rage and violence couldn't be used against you. You still thought you should be nice to them, just in case.

The twins exchanged a look before showing you their soulmate marks on their arms. You leaned forward to have a better look at them. At first, you didn’t understand, because they weren’t the same as yours. But then your grandmother’s words resonated inside your mind and you started to imagine the two marks overlapped.

Fuck, it would look exactly like yours.

And fuck, she was right: you seemed to have two soulmates.

“Oh” was all you could say, completely taken aback. You hadn’t imagined you would find your soulmates in the middle of nowhere, or like that. You had also hoped for a more romantic meeting than you fainting in front of them. You probably weren’t looking your best either. Not like the man in suit in front of you, or the one wearing a mask. You hoped they were thinking you were as hot as you thought they were.

Before your silence could worry them you added: “You should thank my bad luck, you know. That’s how I ended here” you hummed “oh shit, my car” you groaned as you suddenly recalled why you had to walk under the burning sun of this part of the country.

“Your car?” Bo asked

“Yeah, it’s in the middle of the road, the engine decided to go have a nap on me” you rolled your eyes

“I’ll take care of it, don’t worry ‘bout anythin’, love” he reassuringly said. He took his phone out of his pocket to send a message to Lester about the car, so his kid brother wouldn’t worry about it either.

Another moment of silence passed between the three of you. It seemed that the boys didn’t really know how to handle the situation either. It was as if they didn’t believe you would ever appear in their existences, and they were wondering if you were really theirs. Something else was obviously bothering them, but you couldn’t guess what it was for the moment.

“So we’re all soulmates” you nibbled on your bottom lips, trying to hide a little smile. You were happy to have found them in all honesty.

“Well at least you’re ours” Bo nodded as his eyes went back to you. He put his phone back in his pocket as well.

“What?” you frowned, not certain what he meant by that.

“I’m Bo Sinclair and this’ my twin Vincent.” Bo introduced the two of you and your eyes widened

“Oh shit” you let out “That’s why you were arguing when I woke up?” you asked and the men exchanged another look before Vincent nodded at you once again.

“I’m Y/N L/N by the way” you told them “And I’m sure we’ll find a way, right? I mean your twins, it must be usual for you to… hmm… share? I was really really impatient to meet you, guys, so if you could do that without killing each other I’d be very grateful too” you told them with big doe eyes.

They quickly knew they couldn’t deny you anything so they simply nodded. In a way, it made a lot of sense that they were sharing the same soulmate. They used to sort of share the same body when they were in their mother’s womb, and they both thought more than once that they even shared the same soul. It seemed they were right about it.

“Do you usually get along?” you asked and they both nodded but without great enthusiasm, which worried you a little. You nervously nibbled on your lips once again. “That’s not a very comforting answer,” you admitted.

“Sorry, love. It’s just… Yeah, we do get along. We live in the same house after all” Bo replied as he gestured around him. “But we never thought about sharing the same soulmate. And we can both be…” Bo trailed off as he was looking for the right word. Vincent signed a word and Bo sent an impressed look to his twin. He didn’t want to say something like that in front of you.

“What did Vincent say?” you asked, annoyed that you couldn’t understand sign language. Vincent softly shivered at the sound of his name coming from your mouth. It was the most delicious thing he ever heard.

“He said… possessive” Bo finally answered because it felt too difficult to lie to you. You felt yourself blushing and you had to look away.

“It’s… fine. We’ll find a way.” you reassuringly smiled. “I was supposed to go to Mexico for the holidays… But I can call my hotel and cancel it, if you want. I could stay my week off here. But after that, I’ll have to go back to work. And you are quite away from me. I saw you have phones though?” you softly babbled.

The twins exchanged a look. They really didn’t plan on letting you go that easily and you could still feel something dark around the three of you.

“Answer, please. I’m not a telepath” you called them out and they quickly looked back at you.

“Sorry, love. Of course we’d love to have ya here for a little while… Forever actually” Bo smoothly replied and you couldn’t stop yourself from giggling. The boys instantly melted for that sound.

“Well forever sounds nice but it won’t happen right away. Are there any jobs around here?” you asked “I mean, I don’t mind moving in Ambrose, but there is no way I’m playing the housewife for you two guys, and I really mean it.” You told them and they both raised their hands in defence in front of them.

“Never asked for this, love.”

“We’re in Texas, you never know.” You gently teased which made them smile. They enjoyed your playful demeanour.

They couldn’t deny that your determination and the way you knew what you wanted was very attractive to the two men. They knew you were going to challenge them and they really needed that.

But they were worried about how you were going to react when you would learn what they were doing in Ambrose. They could always try to hide the truth from you during one small week, but they wouldn’t be able to do that forever. In addition, you would quickly realise you were living in a ghost town. They were going to agree with Lester on what to tell you so it would satisfy your curiosity without making you realise your soulmates were sadistic killers. Unlike them, you sounded like such a good and bright person. You didn’t seem surrounded by darkness.

They didn’t want you to be afraid of them.

You could tell something was wrong.

“Is everything okay?” you asked, and you worried that they weren’t liking you that much or that they were disappointed in you already.

“O’course, love. We just never thought we’d find ya” Bo replied and you tried to smile

“If you weren’t hiding somewhere even maps don’t know about, it would’ve been easier though.” You hummed and you saw the twins exchanging a look so you understood you touched something there. “What are you doing here, anyways? And you didn’t answer me about jobs” you added. You looked at the window and you realised how quiet it seemed outside. “What’s going on here?” You insisted.

“Nothin’ ya have to worry ‘bout, love. We’re your soulmates, remember, ya can trust us.” He smiled at you and you shivered.

Those boys were up to no good but you already loved them.

#house of wax x reader #bo sinclair x s/o #bo sinclair x you #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x you x vincent sinclair #bo sinclair x s/o x vincent sinclair #bo sinclair x reader x vincent sinclair #vincent sinclair x s/o #vincent sinclair x you #vincent sinclair x reader #poly!sinclairs x s/o #poly!sinclairs x you #poly!sinclairs x reader #slasher x s/o #slasher x you #slasher x reader #poly!slasher x reader #poly!slasher x s/o #poly!slasher x you

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riseofamoonycake · 9 months

Note

So fem reader doesn’t know she has the ability to bring hades and Poseidon back and one day while missing them she brings them back.

Fluff to nsfw

Sub reader

Poseidon and hades (seperetly )x fem reader

Reader is OP

Reader for posidon is his queen

Reader is for hades is also his queen

And here we gooo!

Power of Wish

🔷🤍 Pairing: Poseidon x Female!reader; Hades x Female!reader

🔷🤍 Warnings: mention of death, wounds, angst, sex (oral, squirting, masturbation, taking of virginity), kinks (size kink, breeding kink)

🔷🤍 Notes: the requester asked for a short female reader, with thick thighs, small breasts and visible body hair, high pain tolerance. The reader is consenting.

Poseidon

There are times when you wonder why you haven’t left yet. Why do you keep breathing, for what and for whom? No matter how strong and determined a heart is, it cannot last forever; and even if your powers make you capable of doing all that few, if any, can accomplish, nothing they could do in the face of the Death.

He is not here anymore. This palace resounds with his presence, every room still has his scent, but he is not by my side. It is just a shell with nothing left inside… like me.

Months have passed since Ragnarok and the disappearance of Poseidon, the king of your life and your only good, and you still persist in wandering the rooms like a soul that will never find peace. Your days fall apart like sand, slipping into the folds of silence and bitterness: you should have been a bride, the most precious treasure of the Tyrant of the Seas, and instead… instead, that white and blue dress that the most skilled hands have woven for you is relegated to the back of the closet, hidden from your eyes so as not to make you suffer, destined to be devoured by the time like any moment of joy that was yours.

You can still see him: standing on the door of the room you were supposed to share, his chin raised and the attitude of someone who knows how to command and never loses, Poseidon didn’t look at you ― he never did ―, but his hand stroked your head lightly, lingering on your hair. I’ll be back, he murmured to you in a breath, delicate as the waves when dawn comes, I’ll be back, and we’ll have what we deserve. Watch me win, Y/N.

And your king did not know, did not even imagine that there would never be a return; and you didn’t even imagine it, who for so long have followed and known him, accepting every side of him with an unparalleled love, blooming only for him like the anemones that you adore so much and that he didn’t fail to give you ― his way of telling you how much he cared about you.

«Lady Y/N!»

Here is what you want: just a moment, one more, with him. Rewinding time to feel his breath in the night, when the braziers went out one after the other and in the dark all desires woke up; bring him back to feel his hands caressing your legs and belly as if by accident, and whisper in your ear everything he was going to do to you on your wedding night. The womb of his little flower should have filled with a new life, you both wanted it so much; and it would be enough for you to have just a little minute… another day, another hour…

«Lady Y/N! Where are you? Come quickly!»

You jump when the voice finally manages to overcome your thoughts, and you turn questioningly: sound of running footsteps, murmurs and overlapping sentences, people all talking together, growing chaos… and finally, silence. Your skin shakes with shivers as you freeze: you know this absence of movement and sound, it is very different from the one that has enveloped you up to now…

That is what came with him. It is the calm that Poseidon brought everywhere.

«Lady Y/N…», someone sighs, near or far from you; but you can’t understand who it is and where, no, you can’t understand anything anymore, because a shadow and a shape twice as tall as you suddenly appear at the door of the room, so much so that it occupies the entire threshold, and everything else loses meaning and importance.

You widen your eyes, incredulous and out of breath, and raise your head to stare at who is in front of you; it is not possible… you can’t afford to hope like this, you can’t fool yourself. «My lord…», you still find yourself muttering in a low voice, a lump in your throat and too many tears stuck in your eyes, so much so that you struggle to see well; but you don’t need to do it to recognize the touch with which Poseidon grabs your chin and lifts it, preventing you from falling to your knees, and then bends over you. «It seems that your powers are even greater than what is believed», these are his words in a calm and not surprised tone, as if he were talking about things known to all, «do you know that it was you who brought me back from Niflhel?»

You keep your mouth open, but you cannot speak; not even to reach out to him, a single finger to touch him and make sure he is not a dream, an illusion or worse, an entity that has taken his form to deceive you and abuse your love. But this smell, this aura… no, it can only belong to him. To him who has come back for you, somehow pulled back by your longings… how powerful love really is, no one knows until moments like this come. «My lord…», you murmured again, this time with more decision and your voice broken by emotion, «I only hoped, and desired so much, and…»

«And now the queen wants to cry again?» In something Poseidon has changed compared to before: his skin gives off a more intense heat, his words are less neutral, and he looks at you. Oh yes, he stares at you for a long time, his expression serious but with flashes of the most diverse emotions in the eyes, which intensify when he takes a step forward and pushes you back further and further until your back touches the edge of the bed. You get on it without delay as soon as the god reaches you, then you let yourself be grabbed by the hips and dragged onto the blankets, completely subject to whatever desire he has for you: he could give you the most terrible tortures, and you would cry with joy, because the happiness and relief of having him here by your side could overcome all suffering. Barely holding back your tears, you sink into the arms that the king has opened wide for the first time, and you hug him so tightly that you could end up disappearing in his chest; and Poseidon totally welcomes you, forgetting his usual coldness and composure, burying his face in your hair and breathing heavily as he tightens your body, so small compared to his, even going so far as to cover your face with kisses. His hands run everywhere, caressing your waist and belly, gently enveloping and cradling you.

«Welcome back to me», you murmur while you can’t control your cries anymore, even if these are the last and then only smiles remain; in response, the Tyrant of the Seas closes your mouth with a kiss that tastes of ashes, salt and unsaid things, which however can now be proven, and waits in silence for you to calm down, just before the caresses go from being sweet to hotter.

You ask and want it first, as your fingers begin to slide over his chest and grip his hips as your mouth craves more and, in a fit of courage and reckless glee, the teeth dare to bite his lip; and Poseidon for an instant remains still, motionless, to then let a slight grin appear on his face and press you with all the weight against the mattress, underneath him.

Your person can only be bent by the more massive Tyrant of the Seas, who doesn’t even wait to undress you completely: the wedding has been postponed for too long, now it is time for both of you to take everything. It is therefore in complete silence that he lifts your skirt and loosens the bodice of the dress with a tug, putting all the laces to the test to free the small breasts that are only waiting for his kisses and bites; and it is with determination that the god grabs your thick thighs, sinking his nails into them and shaking them to feel your soft flesh yielding under his grip. As well as you know how to tolerate pain, your sensitivity is very high and part of it comes together with the pleasure and elicit moans, sighs and pants from you, completely abandoned to him and his will.

«So small, yet so strong and fertile…»

You moan louder and squirm when you hear him squeeze your belly until he leave fingerprints; and immediately after you hold your breath, noticing how his sea-colored eyes are descending towards the folds that not even the underwear covers anymore, to then be followed by his whole person.

Your body is now his personal possession and instrument of amusement: and you let him act freely, trying to control the arousement while you see and feel him kissing your pubis and running his fingers through the hair that covers it, and then reserving the same treatment to your already dripping opening, repeatedly penetrating you with his tongue and exploring you deeply with the intention of driving you crazy, biting and lingering on the folds and covering their entire length with slow, expert licks. All of this can’t be just a dream, the tremors you feel and the sensations you feel while you jerk, squeeze your fingers around the sheets until you tear them and you are not ashamed to scream for your lord are enough to destroy the last doubts you had: your body responds in an equally true way, making your skin a chaotic triumph of redness and sweat and fluids that Poseidon welcomes without getting upset, not even when you cum on his face. However, this will have a price to pay: and you already know what it will be when you see his eyes re-emerge from your legs and he stands towering over you with his entire torso, trapping your thighs in an iron grip as he opens them without too much delicacy. «Time to show how much you missed me», his voice murmurs as he settles better against your intimacy and you clearly feel his member rubbing against it. His gaze, now dark as the sea lashed by storms, does not allow you to escape him: he devours you more than his mouth did, and responds to your shivers of excitement with a slight smile of satisfaction. «Now, girl, be ready for me.»

The little light that still reigned in the room goes out as soon as the god enters in you with a decisive push, and night itself descends to protect your encounter.

Hades

In Helheim there aren’t those clouds that you love to chase so much, and not even a blue sky under which to lie down and contemplate the beauty of the mornings that flee towards the evening and then return, without thinking of anything; however, some rooms of Hades’ palace have ceilings that resemble both, and in the end you always feel at home there too.

Or rather, you felt.

Following the king’s death, you repeatedly asked the servants to cover all the mirrors in the house; but no one has ever really listened to you, and those shiny surfaces continue to reflect your sleepless eyes swollen with regrets, merciless as needles that slip into open wounds and dig in search of the heart. And they call, those damned: they invite you to observe yourself inside their silver frames, to remember what happened the times when Hades brought you in front of one of them and slowly undressed you, keeping you pressed against him while he took everything off you, veil after veil, and his gaze didn’t let any inch of your body escape.

At this point your memories have a sigh: because more than once those mirrors have seen Hades inviting you to lie down in front of them, on the soft and refined carpets scattered everywhere, then climb onto you and close his fingers or mouth around your small breasts to cover them with kisses and caresses, to suck, bite and venerate them, and then do the same with your belly and your plush thighs, treating you as only a queen deserves. You won’t leave anything to consume for the wedding!, you laughed as you watched the king squeeze your soft flesh or deprive you of even the garments that protected your intimacy and his nails gently scratched your pubis, sinking into the hair that covered it and twisting his fingers around the curls on purpose to tease you.

He never failed to smile at you, and then wet his lips and narrow his gray eyes as he gave a light, long kiss on your folds, but without proceeding further. Don’t worry, we’ll leave the best for when that day comes, he whispered every time, calm and reassuring, making you laugh with joy. The god was always like this: sweet, caring and kind, careful that you didn’t suffer anything or have any worries, always ready to pamper you for any reason. From the moment he met you and fell in love with you, bringing you to Helheim with the clear intention of making you his queen, he never failed to make you feel his protection and adoration: his hand was always ready to guide and warm you when you needed it, his words to dialogue with yours to make your ideas, dreams and desires mature, and his smile to encourage you when you didn’t believe in yourself enough. That smile, and the way he narrowed his eyes when he looked at you and you could feel his boundless love reaching you, the respect and admiration he had for you, that is what you miss most about him: his presence alone lit up the albeit dark days in this place, together with the certainty of an entire existence to spend by his side, without major worries or pain.

Tonight, the mirrors call louder than usual: and you can’t resist them. No, you have to lie down in front of them, and breathe deeply like Hades whispered to you to do when you were too tense: and leave everything to memory, to illusion and to dreams that went to ashes together with him. In these lives everything, every beat of your heart, every story that your mind creates so as not to think about the emptiness that he has left behind.

Your enormous powers help you to make what you imagine even more truthful: so it is not your fingers that unfasten the ribbons of the bodice to caress and grip your breasts with force, nor that they slide under your underwear to slip into your opening and start giving you pleasure with energy, almost reaching the most atrocious pain ― if you didn’t have such a pain high tolerance and a powerful desperation that you didn’t feel anything. In your imagination, Hades realizes with you what he didn’t have time to do: and you really feel his tongue inside you, all aimed at sucking, licking, immersing himself in your fluids and testing you to give you all the pleasure you can bear; his hands hold you firmly so that you cannot escape your fate, while his eyes sparkle to see your body, so small compared to his ― you know that he has chosen you for this too: to be able to hold you and make you almost disappear inside himself, to dominate you completely, albeit with extreme sweetness ―, which trembles and jolts while being subjected to the most sensual torments. It is in your dreams that finally, after having tasted you well and having made your personal flavor known to you by covering your face with kisses, he repeatedly penetrates you, driving you to madness and smiling with the bliss with which you welcome him inside you, aware of not being happier than that. You will never be able to have the daughter Hades continually spoke of, caressing your belly with the rapt gaze of one who already sees the future ahead of him and can’t wait to see it come true; and no one will ever take your virginity, only yourself… but that is good, if the illusion can save you a little from reality and prevent your heart from cracking and falling apart like forgotten glassware.

«Y/N?»

Even the whole palace seems to sigh with you, and is filled with hums and muffled invocations; the soul of your desire invades everything it can touch, and…

But is it just that? Is it only desire, and not reality?

The awareness of something else causes your eyes to suddenly widen, pulling your ghosts’ hands away from your flesh, making you sit up on the carpets: no, it was not your creation, indeed in the corridors and between the rooms there are voices of all kinds, and Helheim is in chaos. Something that shouldn’t have happened, which in theory had never been seen to happen, is taking shape in the palace; yet, there is no sadness in the murmurs that chase each other, the sobs and the name that is invoked until it sounds like an ovation ― Hades, Great Hades, Lord of us all.

Instantly your mouth dries up and you remain listening: sound of approaching footsteps, known, familiar and loved scent, and the heart that fears to hope so much. Have you performed your greatest miracle? One minute, two, three: in a few moments you will discover the truth, and whether it will be simple melancholy, or the return of love.

#record of ragnarok #shuumatsu no valkyrie #ror #snv #ror hades #snv hades #shuumatsu no valkyrie hades #record of ragnarok hades #poseidon ror #poseidon record of ragnarok #snv poseidon #ror poseidon #record of ragnarok poseidon #shuumatsu no valkyrie poseidon

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luveline · 1 year

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for shy fri!! what about jonathan x shy!reader who are constantly in their own little world? similar to this remus one you did!!

thank you my love! i hope this is close to what you wanted <3 shy!fem!reader x lovesick!jonathan

Jonathan isn't sure if you know how much he wants you. Talking as your boyfriend, you're together, and he still wants you. To hold your hand, or your wrist, your forearm in his hand, your forearm pulled close to his chest. To slide the first two fingers on his left hand behind your ear and tilt your head so he can see all your eyelashes. To pull your thigh over his and feel the weight of it through the whole movie. He wants every tiny piece of you there is up for offer, and he'd feel selfish if he weren't so sick in love.

"Do you want some?" you whisper, offering your box of Milk Duds to him expectantly.

He takes a handful just to watch your face as you shake them out.

"More?" you ask.

"That's fine," he whispers back, "thanks."

He wants, desperately, to add 'honey'. Honey, baby, angel, all those too sweet pet names that'll make you hide your mouth, hand pressed delicately over your lips, smile evident in your eyes if nothing else.

"Welcome."

There should be a word for it, the want to press his chest to yours, to overlap. If he had his way, his friends would fade into the background, they already have, and he'd snake his arm behind your head, hook your neck in the crook of his arm and encourage your face to his neck. He'd dot more kisses than anyone ever has into your crown.

"Are you okay?" you whisper, quiet than before. You've shifted on the couch to get right next to his ear, each word tickling his inner ear with the accompanying breath.

He turns his face slowly so as not to startle you. TV light catches your cheek and brow, illuminating you in a bright, translucent blue. If you weren't the shyest girl he'd ever met he'd kiss you right here, friends forgotten, but you'd genuinely be uncomfortable and he doesn't ever want that.

How to lure you away?

He leans in like he might kiss you, lips a hair's width from your cheek. "Drink?"

"Yeah, please."

You misunderstand. Jonathan stands with your confirmation and catches hold of your wrist at the same time, tugging at you gently. You rise up and follow him out to the kitchen, and really there's nothing subtle to it, nothing at all.

"They're fucking disgusting," Mike says.

Will reaches into his lap for some popcorn and hums, not disagreeing. "It could be worse."

"Could it?" Lucas' face appears between them, leaning down from his seat on the armchair. "Will, your brother needs help, psychologically."

"He's fine."

"He's watching the movie via lights on her face," Max adds, backing Lucas up with a scrunched up nose. She doesn't care if you and Jonathan are being sweet on each other, she cares about being right, and Lucas is correct. "It's obsessive."

"You guys'll understand when you're older," Steve pipes up, flopping into the gap you've left behind. Robin rolls her eyes at him. "Nah, you won't. They're weird."

"They're in love," Will says, laughing like this is the stupidest conversation anyone has ever had.

Dustin isn't one to stay quiet any longer. He wishes he could back Will up. He can't. "Listen, I have a girlfriend, and that's not right."

"You have a girlfriend?" Max asks, voice layered in a cheerfulness she absolutely is not feeling. She's too good at pretending — her tone is nothing less than convincing.

In the kitchen, your skin burns with heat. The door is nowhere near thick enough to cover the sounds of their bickering. It grows louder and louder, the kids debating your love life with a voracious passion.

"Let's not beat around the bush," you hear Steve say, "they're definitely canoodling in there."

"Why are we friends with him?" Jonathan asks, similarly embarrassed but trying not to show it.

"Because he's nice. And he has Robin as an add-on. It's like a two for one."

"Two for one on idiots," he mumbles, offering you a freshly filled glass. Robin's laughter sounds from the living room, high-pitched and breathless.

You smile despite yourself.

"I'm sorry," Jonathan says after a small pause. "This isn't what I was trying to do."

You put your glass on the counter and smile at him. It's not the brilliant smile you usually give when you're alone. Jonathan's amazed to find that, even as a couple, you have a little warm up period every time you see him, adorable, a tinsy bit disconcerting. You can be very cautious.

"What were you trying to do, Jon?" you ask earnestly.

He puts down his glass too. He smiles, breath caught, hands tentative and then not. "This," he says, hands vying for your cheeks. He cups your warm face in his for a stolen moment, thumbs rubbing at the skin shy of your nose, and then one hand slides to the nape of your neck, and the other goes over your shoulders. He pulls you in for a hug, as he has tens of times, but finds himself worrying when your arms don't come up automatically to meet him.

He hugs you a little bit harder.

"Oh," you say, arms circling his waist, half as tight and twice as affectionate, hand rubbing at the bumps of his spine.

Shy, yes, but skimpy with affection? Never. You hold him like he's made of something infinitely precious, soft and sweet and silent, your breath warming a crescent moon against his shoulder.

"You sure you're okay?" you ask quietly, face turning so you can kiss the slip of chest peeking out from under his shirt's neckline.

"I'm fine. I'm good, really. I know you don't like this stuff in front of everyone, so…"

Your face slips down to his chest. "You could hug me a little in front of them. Better that then have them," — you pause, and the quiet is filled by the sounds of your friends' continued arguing — "doing whatever it is they're doing."

"Right now, I think they're debating when you're gonna break up with me."

"Never," you say. It's so fast, your answer. Instant. You cough to cover up your embarrassment and Jonathan has to hide his smile in the skin above your ear.

"Hey, you should be glad," Steve says, too smug, something awful in the way the room quietens to broadcast him. "Better they're too weird to cuddle in front of us than teen pregnancy."

Jonathan sighs, knowing you won't want to hug him any longer after that. Sure enough, you break apart from his hold and take a too fast swig of water, frantic. "Let's go back in," you say.

You leave and he hasn't even picked up his cup. Jonathan presses the heels of his hands to his eyes and takes a 'Don't pick a fight with Steve' breath, frustration and agitation and an inkling of adoration for you all mixed up in his head.

"Where's Jonathan?" he hears Will ask you.

"Practising on his hand?" Steve asks.

Jonathan takes another deep breath.

#jonathan byers imagine #jonathan byers x y/n #jonathan byers #jonathan byers x you #jonathan byers x reader #jonathan byers fanfic #jonathan byers fanfiction #jonathan byers fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #jonathan stranger things #jonathan byers x fem!reader

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insomn-space · 4 months

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LISSSTEN!!!

Levi x reader

Notes: The title is my poor attempt of humor. It's okay, I still think I'm funny ♬

Leviathan is the best rant buddy you could ever ask for. He knows how it feels like to get ignored---how no one understands his interests enough to take interest in what he says. That’s why he felt so much relief and happiness when you came into his life. You listened! You understood! Even if you didn’t, you’d stay. You don’t ask him to shut up. You don’t ignore him or make fun of him. You listened!!

And he’s so grateful for that, you don’t even know. He fears that he might bore you one day and you’d up and leave him. But with the way you look at him with so much interest and adoration, how you ask questions or even just nod your head from time to time—his heart can’t take it. He didn’t deserve you. It makes him clam up and stutter when he notices. His face getting undeniably bright red as he tries to pick up the conversation once more.

So, imagine what he felt when he saw your voice dying down when other’s overlap yours…or when others don’t take your interests seriously, and you feel ignored. He’s downright furious, like--! How dare they? Don’t they know simple ethics? Are they that oblivious and dense to not see your solemn expression poorly hidden with a strained smile?

You feel him tugging your hand before fully wrapping his around yours. His stare unwavering and entirely focused on you. All the nervousness and his social awkwardness thrown out the window, just for you—because of you. Just for now, at least. He smiles unconsciously.

He asks you a question, interested in hearing more of what you had to say. He wanted to know more, know everything there is to know about the topic, about you. He’d take everything he can get and store them into his memory.

He’ll remember them too, down to the tiniest detail. He’ll be there to listen to you, like you do to him. You’re his Henry remember? What kind of friend is he if he doesn’t do something so bare minimum? Although, he dreams of becoming something so much more.

#im sorry for mistakes im still getting used to posting #ahhhhh nerves nerves jdhsjabsj #obey me x reader #obey me fanfic #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #leviathan x reader #obey me fluff #leviathan fluff

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howtobecomeadragon · 10 months

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okay okay okay so SURE mike was having little fluttery feelings in his stomach every time will brushed him or touched elbows with him or his arm gently rested on mike's wrist as he pointed at the heart on the painting. SURE. he got a little giddy, distressingly distracted, and a wee bit scared about how strongly it all felt.

BUT what about will?? will had been left in a mess of heartbreak and longing and missing mike so hard his chest hurt for five months. he missed his friend, he missed his best friend since they were five years old. they'd always walked close enough to brush shoulders and tapped each other to get the other's attention and sat next to each other and held hands when the big things in life felt too large and too frightening. things had changed since el, but the wide majority of their friendship had been composed of gentle, sweet touches and will missed it so much it hurt. he liked the little reassurances that mike brought with just a carefully placed hand: the comfort of the one he trusted more than anyone just inches away, shoulder to shoulder.

mike didn't lean in for a hug at the airport and it left will off kilter and missing it more than ever. but then mike leaned his knee on will's as they put on their skates and will felt confused. it felt like maybe mike was saying "i'm sorry, i'm still here." so will went ahead and ahead and ahead. he poked mike hard when they fought bc he was angry, angry about more than he could say, about more than mike could surely understand. they walk shoulder to shoulder after they fight, angry still, angry and hurt but mike was still there and will didn't dream of putting more distance. mike was taller now. but he was still mike.

after el is taken away mike is hurting and scared and so will sits next to him, close on the bed. mike doesn't move away. will hopes it provides just a little bit of comfort. they haven't made up yet but that's okay. they make up, and they squeeze together when guns are firing in his house, and will can barely breathe from the fear of it all, but mike keeps him safe. he holds him back from running after jonathan, he hides will's body when he can.

they run away and will finds himself grabbing his own wrist, fiddling with his watch to stop from reaching out bc mike is a mess and will doesn't know how much is too much and what would be too obvious anymore. will leans in while looking at the computer and mike leans away, so will does too.

when mike needs it, will gives him the painting and rests his arm across mike's wrist to point out the heart on mike's shield. his own heart is thudding too hard at what he's saying, weighing every word just right, changing each pronoun to fit el, always el, never him. he doesn't notice the way mike's eye snags there at their overlapping arms. he's too busy trying to keep his voice steady. the touch helps him though. it's a reminder of all their calming touches before.

at the gas station, will leans in again, and his arm brushes mike's shirt. it's not enough but el is there. will is scared and being this close is good enough. it's better than nothing. when el is in the bath, they're pressed elbow to elbow and it helps the fear coursing in his veins for his sister.

mike tells el that he loves her and will knew that he did, of course mike loves el. it still hurt to hear. his heart felt weary of all of the hurt. he puts some distance between them ans instead of squeezing into the backseat with the two of them, he sat up front. mike hugs everyone but him apparently, and el leans on mike for comfort at the hospital. will looked at mike and mike came closer though. their hands were so close that will could feel warmth of them. he didn't understand how max could be gone. right in front of them but still gone. he wanted someone to put a hand on his shoulder or pull him in closer or hold his hand. he wanted it all from mike. he wanted to be looked after and cared for. he supposed he wouldn't ever be the one to lean his head on mike. maybe they were too old now. maybe he loved too much and too obviously.

mike seemed uncertain about el's silence and so will gave again, a simple touch to nudge mike to tear his eyes from el's bedroom door. he always gave love, and he hoped he might get some back someday. mike listened to him on the couch and as he admitted what he felt as soon as they returned to hawkins. he could feel vecna, could feel him like he'd felt him before and it made him cold and like a long lost horror had secreted itself away inside his head and might not ever come out. he wanted to feel something else, anything else, and suddenly he did. mike's hand on his shoulder was warm and his grip was tight, like he was anchoring will down to stay with him there on the couch. it helped.

will takes what he can get for now. it's not a lot, but it's a reminder of the comfort from before. at least it's something. at least it's mike. maybe he'll ask for more someday. it seems unthinking to ask for more, but the want seems too big to fit in his chest sometimes. sometimes it feels like it's creeping down his arm and into his hand, and he'll reach out for mike's hand to hold before he can stop himself. maybe that would be okay. maybe mike would hold his hand.

#byler #will byers yearning hours

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iztea · 4 months

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They still feel off specially the eyes i could feel them about to manifest their own life and run off

Even my linework is ... Idk what's wrong and it's the problem maybe I'm staring too much but I don't think so

Sorry for bothering alot but i loved your last advice ty

i think the main problem with the first picture has to do with the proportions and anatomy of the lower body area aka the neck and shoulders. i'd make the shoulders wider and add some sort of form to the neck so that it looks believable instead of a flat rectangle shape ( maybe make it slimmer a bit too? although that might be just a stylistic choice so you do you). That's the first thing i'd fix because otherwise the head looks too big in comparison to the rest of the body, and it can throw you off

I actually think you did a great job with the eyes, they have a lot of life and that comes from the fact that they are the most rendered part of your piece, which is not a bad thing. The thing is, while it is true that the eyes are the main focal point of a face and portrait in general, that doesn't mean you can neglect the other parts, so i think it is also a consistency issue or not figuring out exactly what sort of style or rendering you want to go with that holds you back (which is totally fine and normal ofc). So let's pick a semi-realistic stylized rendering style for this since this is the vibe i'm getting from this piece.

If that's the style we're going for, then the face should have a bit more form. You have to remember that our facial features ( eyes, nose, lips) are connected with each other via the planes of the face, right? So, for a semirealistic style, revisit your reference and try to idenitify what those planes are and how they connect to those features, and most importantly, where the shadows hit, and just accentuate them more, because at the moment they look like 3rd forms plastered over a 2d surface which is not right, our skin has form as well. Color-wise, don't be afraid to go darker with the shadows, they really make your drawings pop. Without looking at a reference, i'd def add some shadow under the lips, a bit where the lips connect to the nose, under the neck, and in the lower body area.

I'm really trying to avoid the most basic answer which is " practice anatomy !!1! " because everyone can say that however, at the end of the day, this is the main thing the face lacks. And tbvh you don't have to actually know anatomy, you just gotta know some proportions things that make the face look believable enough. I feel like the features are mostly just drawn from the reference without an understanding of the structure behind it. Something tells me that in the reference picture, the person had their head tilted a bit upwards, but here it's kinda flat and the features are just painted without following the motion. Try to draw over your reference picture the vertical and horizontal lines and make up the head shape behind it to figure out the way it is tilting and facing, because the lips, eyes nose, etc will follow that same sort of flow, they're not stationary. I'd also make the eyes a bit smaller, or maybe make the skull bigger bc i think they are touching the outer edge too much now, and also narrow the distance between the nose and lips just a bit. Kinda hard to explain without actually doing it myself. But really, try to play with that, and try getting comfy with drawing 3d forms i know it's easier said than done but..... there really isn't any shortcut unfortunately As for the lineart drawing, yes it's actually pretty solid, i like that duplicate blur thing you did, i'm familiar with that technique and it def has its perks so that's great. Im not an expert on lineart, however here i think there are too many " unnecessary" lines that could easily be omitted (purple). Less is more and all that~ The hair strands at the end feel too stiff and identical (green). If you notice, they all just end in this " V" shape and they rarely overlap thus making the image look flat. Try to break this pattern by introducing more spontaneity aka random hairflies, making the strands overlap, adding more shape variety etc

Make sure that the lines connect properly whenever they meet, and also although you already did it and i think that's great, you can make some lines even thicker, go even further and add even more lineweight. As a general thing, usually, the exterior or contour lines are thicker and whatever it is inside is thinner so experiment with that, you can start from the nose- thicker lines for the nostrils thinner for that nose tip i forgot what it's called and also add thin lines that just hint at the form. Lineart is hardd so i don't blame you, but if you're gonna keep the lineart in, try "shading" with black blocks so to speak, make sure the lineart layer can stand on its own, and pay more attention to the lower part area (neck and shoulders) even if it is less exciting to ink

#ok i lied it's long again #these are pretty fun to do can u blame me #ask iztea #you should also check in with other people don't take my word for everything #but since you asked my personal opinion here u go #sorry for any typos if there are any i'll fix them later #long post

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radiostaticsmile · 2 months

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On Alters and Personality Disorders

Disclaimer that I am not a researcher and this is based on my understanding of different studies and of my own personal experience being a system with personality disorders and knowing systems with personality disorders

Often I see the question can on alter have a personality disorder that other alters do not. It seems to be hotly debated without a real answer, most people just extrapolate because studies on that specifically are hard to find and combine knowledge of systems and personality disorders but be used to make an inference. I am going to be doing the same thing here,

However one thing that I have not seen anyone mention that has greatly helped my understanding of this topic is the idea which has begun to exist relatively recently within psychology that personality disorders are really all the same thing at its core, a disorder which occurs in response to trauma, and the specific symptoms and disorder you will be diagnosed with is dependant on which survival methods worked best for the traumatizing situation that the person was in.

For example in situations where it was dangerous and likely to get the victim hurt by their abuser to care about the abusers feelings they will likely develop a PD with low empathy like NPD or ASPD. For situations where avoiding the abuser was possible and the best method something like AVPD may occur. And those who need to be highly attuned to their abusers emotional state and weather they get hurt or not depends on how the abuser is feeling may develop BPD. This is an over simplification but you get the picture.

Dissociative disorders are also caused by trauma. And abuse is complicated, so different survival strategies may work at different times, and using a method that works sometimes will actively get you abused more at other times. For singlets this can cause more than one personality disorder with symptoms that mix and overlap. For dissociative systems, this can mean different alters present different symptoms. Alters will often form because the system needs different survival strategies in different situations, and different alters will fill those roles. So it makes sense some alters will have symptoms of a personality disorder that another alter does not have. One alter may fit enough criteria for a diagnoses of a specific personality disorder while others may be missing key aspects of the disorder, so in tis way I do think it is possible. You can say they are just symptom holders and the whole system has it, or you can say just they have it, its really just arguing semantics at that point, since it is fairly clear within the community that many systems have alters who meet diagnostic criteria while other alters in the same system do not.

I do think it is possible for an alter to have a specific personality disorder that is not system wide, because specific personality disorders are not really separate from each other, but rather which symptoms do you present, and different alters present different symptoms. However, I also think that if any alter has a personality disorder, everyone in the system would most likely have a personality disorder of some kind (unless they have a highly specialized role or are a fragment that would prevent this, but the system as a whole would still be personality disordered). This is because the trauma changing the brain that created the personality disorders affects the whole system. It can affect different alters differently, and some specific symptom sets may be contained to only a few alters, but being personality disordered in general would affect everyone, or at least that is what I have come to believe based on my experience and research.

It also seems like just based on what I have seen that alters will frequently gravitate around a few presentations/specific disorders that show up in several alters, like a system of six may have 5 with BPD, and 3 of those also have NPD (meaning 2 with both), more likely than every alter having an extremely different disorder presentation from each other, and then varying symptoms between alters within those subsets of symptoms. This however is not based on any research and is just personal experience since this topic really hasn't been studied enough.

This is not meant to invalidate or dictact any one else's experience or beliefs around the topic but I haven't seen anyone discuss the theory that personality disorders are a single disorder with highly varied presentation and I wanted to add that idea to the conversation.

#npd symptom holder #system #did #plural system #osdd #personality disorder #symptom holder #symptom holders #essay #now broadcasting #personality disorders

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ishoulddefbedoingotherthings · 8 months

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I don’t like Neal.

(2nd installment of rants I should not be writing because I should def be doing other things)

Or in other words: The only bagel I’ll ever like is the New York style kind.

And it’s not even because I’m a CS shipper because when we first found out that Neal existed, Hook was in his womanizer mode (and yes I loved HIM but I didn’t ship CS quite yet, I did start immediately after tho, but that’s beside the point).

First, facts need to be pointed out. Emma was a minor. That’s not arguable, she was a minor and was 17 when she had Henry because she had just turned 28 when Henry was already 10, so there was an overlap when she was 17 and had a baby. So that means during her relationship with Neal, she was a minor.

According to Neal’s wanted poster, he was 23. A 23 year old with a 17 year old is not okay, and it’s logical to assume that Emma was 16 when she met him, but even then, NEAL WAS 22. THAT IS NOT OKAY. THAT IS IN NO WAY OKAY. And if we’re adding two hundred years to it, that’s even MORE not okay.

And I know there’s the argument that Hook is hundreds of years older too, but their age doesn’t matter, it’s their age in relation to EMMA’S. When Emma met Neal, she was 16/17. She was vulnerable and living on the streets and even if Neal wasn’t trying to, he took advantage of her naive state. All Emma wanted was a family, and Neal seemed to give that to her because she believed he was the first person to give a damn about her. When Emma met Hook, she was a mature adult and could properly assess a situation, a skill that she hadn’t yet mastered as a 16 year old. She literally couldn’t because our brains don’t fully develop until 25.

So that’s one thing. Neal took advantage of her. She was a minor, he was an adult. Any person that would condone that relationship AND SAY IT WAS HEALTHY is not okay in my book.

Again I repeat, the only bagel I like is that with cream cheese.

And now moving on: HE LEFT HER IN JAIL??? FOR HIS CRIME?????? WOMEN HAVE DIVORCED FOR LESS! MY MOTHER DIVORCED FOR LESS!

I feel like people brush past that way too easily. Because OUAT is a magical show people try to downplay trauma, but pregnancy is even traumatic for a woman that wanted the baby. Emma did not want to be pregnant. Nobody would want to be pregnant in that situation. She put her livelihood and her trust into Neal and he betrayed her all because of her so called “destiny”. Destiny is destiny. It would happen no matter what and he didn’t need to make her take the fall for his crime in order to get away from her. HE COULDVE CHEATED ON HER AND IT WOULDVE BEEN BETTER. And, he also didn’t want to see his father, which most definitely played a part in his decision to leave Emma. Neal suffered a lot because of his father, but if he loved Emma so much, it would’ve been worth it to stay with her, wouldn’t it??? Neal never chooses the hard path.

But back to the pregnancy thing. Not only is it traumatic for a fully grown woman, but she was a teenager!! A teenager that was alone and afraid in a jail cell, pregnant. That is terrible. That’s so astronomically terrible and I feel like people that love adult Neal don’t understand that. I love little Neal. Not adult Neal because he did that crap because Pinocchio told him to.

And if that wasn’t bad enough, he took the money for himself that was supposed to go to Emma. Imagine how much that would’ve helped her. Money can buy nice clothes and food and a hotel room. It could’ve gotten her a job (she did get one eventually) but that money could’ve helped her so much.

And then years later, when he gets the postcard that the curse is broken, he could’ve gone to check on her and he didn’t. Imagine how much that would’ve meant to Emma, that even after all he did, he was still willing to go back and see her because she meant that much to him. And he would be willing to face all the backlash she would give him because he knew he deserved it.

But he DIDNT. He didn’t come to check on her, he never would’ve gone to see her if not for Rumplestilskin’s deal, and that makes me hate him even more.

And uh HELLO? He also told her if he knew who she was he would’ve never gone near her. Imagine how much a punch in the gut that was for her. One of Emma’s main problems is that she felt like she was never enough for someone. And here Neal is, the first person she really loved and who she believed really loved her back, telling her that she would not be enough for him. She was not worthy of his attention because of where she was from and who she was. That is so terrible to say to someone. So very fricking terrible.

AND HE DIDNT EVEN APOLOGIZE. NOT ONCE. UM WTF? I REWATCHED AND HE DID NOT APOLOGIZE. He said he messed up. But he didn’t mess up, he fucked up. He fucked EMMA up. I am an Emma lover through and through. She is my baby and I will defend her to the ends of the earth. I don’t hate Neal because he ‘stood in the way of CS’ because let’s be honest, we all knew CS would be endgame when the first episode we got with them together was in direct contrast to Tallahassee, aka, Neal’s relationship with Emma. If that’s not foreshadowing I don’t know what is. No, I hate Neal because of how he treated EMMA. That poor innocent 17 year old that suffered so MUCH because of Neal’s actions, intentional or not.

I think the saying “it doesn’t matter if you mean well, it matters if you do well” completely sums up how I feel about that situation. Oh and even after he fucks her up, she goes to Tallahassee and waits for him FOR TWO YEARS because she’s hopeful that maybe it was a mistake, that he didn’t mean to leave her and that he still loved her. That little trooper. I want to give her blankets and hot chocolate and grilled cheese and therapy

There’s no doubt in my mind that Neal does love Emma because how can you not. She’s amazing. And I do believe that Emma loves Neal, but I think they were both in love with the idea of each other. They were each other’s first loves, and that is important, but have you noticed how surprised Neal looked when he learned all the new things about Emma? How he downplayed her superpower? How he didn’t believe her about Tamara when she was right? How he looked almost afraid and disgusted that she had magic? Magic that’s always been a part of her- that’s such a BIG part of her.

Neal loves Emma, but I think it’s startlingly clear that it’s not 28 year old Emma, but 17 carefree happy Emma. And Emma does love Neal, but I whole-heartedly feel like she loved the idea of him and how happy he used to make her before leaving her. And you know maybe I’m wrong, but the look Emma gives him a lot is only what I can describe as the look of a person trying to reminisce. A person trying to remember the good parts about someone after a decade of separation, and here they are a completely different person. I honestly don’t think Emma fully processed what Neal did to her, and that’s why all the feelings flooded to the surface upon seeing him after all those years because she never got closure.

And this actually happened to a friend of mine. He had broken up with his gf of a year, and he loved her a lot he just felt like it was toxic (and it was) and broke up, and then he dove into his work and didn’t think about it at all. Then work started to slow down a few months later and he had a lot of time to sit and think and he called me telling me that he missed his ex and that he wanted to get back together with her. I told him to wait a few weeks and process it to see how he felt before doing anything rash, and sure enough, a few weeks later he said that he didn’t want to get back together with her anymore.

Emma didn’t fully process that relationship for a decade. She hid behind walls and a red leather jacket because the pain was so intense. She told Neal she loved him in the portal because she thought he was going to die, but I really think she was talking to his past self, his past self that she loved and now she would never see that again. But at least now she could move on.

Then flash go echo cave. She literally tells Neal she wished he was dead. She said that she would always love him, but there’s a clear difference to loving someone than being in love with someone. Emma is not IN LOVE with Neal, she loves him, but she is not in love. And the reason for that is because all he put her through. All the pain and the torture that she didn’t want to go through again so she wished he was dead because it would’ve been easier for her to move on finally after all these years. I also thinks that she loved him because he gave her Henry. Emma loves her son. And Neal played a part in creating him so of course Emma would love him for giving her that, but she is not IN LOVE with him.

And I don’t blame Neal for wanting to fight for Emma (I would fight for Emma any day of the week) but I do think in that moment, and judging from her lack of reply, she knows that she is over with that romantic Neal titled chapter of her life.

(and it definitely didnt help that she got the daylights kissed out of her by a sexy pirate)

There are only two things that I respect about adult Neal.

1: he sent the dove to Captain Hook to get Emma back because he knew that he would fight to bring her home. I think that that is very admirable considering he act like a jealous asshole in neverland which really bugged me, and I thought it did develop his character well. He realized that Hook was not the same man he previously knew and I respect that.

2: the quote “I just want you to be happy, even if it’s not with me.” This is important to me because I feel like the writers could’ve portrayed him even further as a selfish person that he did appear to be (and that would’ve made it even easier for me to dislike him) but they didn’t. This was Neal recognizing that Emma moved on, something that she had been doing since Neverland, and commenting on that which I also admire because Emma deserves to be happy without something holding her down.

And honestly I do feel as if the only way she could move on entirely is through him dying because he would always be around, and she would always have that reminder of the most painful part of her life. I think JMO actually commented on that in an interview about how Neal would always be there because he was Henry’s father. And I think that even though Emma loved him, she felt a lot lighter once he died. I feel as if most of her grief was out of empathy for her son because he would have to live without a father just like she did, and she knew how painful that is. That grief was NOT because she would never get to be in a relationship with him because she had already moved on, and the people that can’t see that have not been watching the show, or are too much of a swanfire Stan to see that. And that’s perfectly fine, we’re all free to have an opinion, but Emma’s actions and words clearly showed that she moved on.

And you know, I deeply hated when he told Emma not to go after Hook because it was dangerous because I think it clearly showed the contrast between Emma and Neal and why they would not work out. Emma takes the hard way, Neal takes the easy way. Would it have been safer and easier for Emma to mourn Hook and move on? Yes. Was it more dangerous to go after him to right the wrong and injustice he faced, and to get her literal true love back? Yes, but it was the right choice. But every time Neal is confronted with a difficult choice, he takes the easy path. He could’ve stayed with Emma, he could’ve gone to her after the curse broke, and he could’ve offered a better damn date option than a ‘come to granny’s if you want’ which I can see how that would be respectful, but he also wasn’t fighting for her which is exactly what Emma needed someone to do for her. To climb past her walls and pull her out with them. That’s why I don’t like Neal. He did not treat Emma well, one way or another, his actions traumatized her and again, are you telling me you’d get back together with a person that did that to you? No? Well then why the hell should EMMA? Give the poor thing a break and let her move on.

(Also side note, am I the only one that thinks the ice cave in season four was a metaphor for Emma’s walls? Uhh hello? Impenetrable fortress? Turns a person cold and solid? Surviving not living? You couldn’t force them open with brute force (gold’s magic) because that may damage the person inside of them beyond repair, instead you need to encourage them to come out by themself while you simultaneously break it down so it makes the passage easier, and on the other side there is comfort and warmth. In season four Emma’s walls finally started to come down through her family and Killian and it’s literally shown through that episode. End of side note)

But yeah, I don’t like Neal, really deeply don’t. There are two things that I respect, and that’s it. And I didn’t even get to how he told Emma to lie to Rumple, knowing exactly what he does to liars, and how he was mad at Emma for not telling him about Henry when he left her in prison, and how he moved on way too fast from his FIANCÉ? Yeah she was evil but where were his residual feelings??? Even Emma had a bit with Walsh.

*big breath*

Thank you for coming to my second Ted Talk.

#once upon a time #captain swan #Anti Neal #Sorry not sorry #little Neal is so cute but adult Neal is a red flag and reminds me too much of my own crappy dad for me to ever like him #I feel like people that really like him have never had a man (or person in general) in their life that acts condescending and doesn’t #Believe in them. Neal didn’t believe in Emma as much as he should have in Neverland and he also didn’t believe her about Henry HER SON????#I said what I said #Emma swan meta #Rant #I love Emma Swan #I do not like Neal

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spectralsleuth · 7 months

Note

You mentioned that the Hamato household in LSoW and LSoE looks like a wizard's house and that it is filled with furniture that Yoshi inherited from his family... Can you imagine how much historians and antique collectors would be just going gaga about all the priceless stuff in the Hamato home. Like every room has original hand-crafted tables, desks, etc. that can be dated back hundreds of years, the walls have scrolls and weapons crafted by famous masters from 300 years ago. I can just imagine that Yoshi agreed to an interview in his home and, never mind his turtle kids, someone points out the furniture and wall art and people go nuts! This aging action star is just casually mentioning how his sons used to teeth on the chair legs and antique collectors around the world die a little, all while he is sitting on an old chair that was made from a rare tree in Japan worth as much as a down payment on the house and just sipping tea like it's nothing.

Yoshi tapped his foot irritably.

"I really don't understand what the problem is- you sound like my Grandfather." Not a flattering comparison.

"You're not even using a coaster." The camera man looked as if he was in pain, and Yoshi could honestly say that he had not had this much chit-chat from any crew member he'd ever had in his home.

The house was still in a slight state of disarray from the move- there were boxes in the master bedroom stacked to the ceiling, and Blue and Purple had not been separated long enough to be convinced of the benefits of their own bedroom. As a result, both of their bedrooms were half unpacked and mixed together.

Yoshi wasn't particularly passionate about separating the two, but considering every single day it seemed they broke into screaming matches and biting, you would think they would enjoy having their own space as much as Orange and Red did.

It was not so. He could barely get them to sleep in their own bed at this point, but since they were only eight he thought it was prudent to take the separation slow. (At least that was what Dr. Harper had said, when he had floated the idea of encouragement via booby traps and spray bottles by her.)

"It is a piece of furniture- it is meant to be used." It wasn't often that Yoshi thought he was mistranslating English- but he thought this might be one of those situations. The confused looks the Vanity Fair reporter was giving him was selling that impression, and he did not much care for it. "I set things on it? I put- items, in the drawers?" What was the other word for items- funny words, like, oh what was it. "Knick knacks." Sounded like a word for underwear if you asked him.

"This is from the Meiji era." The camera man explained, reverently removing Yoshi's coffee mug from the polished wooden surface. A lost cause, since there was already many overlapping rings of differing shades of brown covering the surface.

There were chips and scuffs covering the top, small marks where Red had rolled over the top during chases with his brothers and left shell-shaped divots, and where Blue and Purple had scratched with idle claws while watching the Mr. Nye TV show. There were crayon marks on the sides, where Orange had run off of his paper with his crayons. He was a good boy and did not draw on furniture on purpose, but accidents happened, and Xander often could not keep up.

"Yes, my great great grandfather commissioned it. I believe from the Emperor's carpenters, to celebrate the new constitution and property they bought in- well, I honestly do not recall. Is this relevant?" Yoshi asked wearily, feeling a twinge of displeasure at even starting to sound like his Ojii lecturing on history.

"There's only about fifty pieces made total in this style- there's no nails in the construction, look it's all joinery on the shelves-" The camera-man was saying, and to Yoshi's displeasure the reporter was still recording using the small device in her hand.

"I thought we were discussing my new movie." Yoshi pointed out, not plaintively, because he was a grown man with four children. "I mean, I have older furniture than that in the bathroom."

The camera man paused, and stared at him. "... Sorry?"

"The bathroom." Yoshi pointed out, and (sensing another translation issue possibly), said "It is where you piss."

"Piss!" Orange yelled from the hallway, where he went sprinting by with the tap-tap-tap of feet.

"DO NOT REPEAT THAT!" Yoshi called out. He was drowned out by Blue and Red fast on Oranges tail, screaming with laughter. It was nice to hear Red's laughter for a change, but since his eldest was also chasing his brothers with a stock pot and a spoon, Yoshi thought he should intervene. "Excuse me, one moment."

Red was only willing to trade the stockpot for a yardstick, which he began beating on Blue and Orange's shells respectively. Since his two youngest were giggling wildly, Yoshi left them to it and turned on cartoons in one of the bedrooms for them to watch when they grew tired of hitting each other.

By the time he got back to the Vanity Fair crew, they had gathered in the hallway, and were being shown the bathroom by a very pleased looking Purple.

"Ah Purple, excellent work my son- ah. I was kidding about the furniture-"

"No you weren't." The cameraman accused, looking frantic and pale. "This is a silver backed oriental mirror from under- oh I don't know. Kōmei? Ninkō?

"Kōka." Yoshi corrected, hating himself. "So, both probably."

Purple tugged on the cameraman's sleeve, and (looking hesitant) the camera man bent down to listen as Purple cupped hands around his snout in order to whisper in his ear.

"YOU WRITE ON IT?" The man gasped, looking appalled.

"I have raised a tattle-taler." Yoshi said mournfully, as Purple looked smugly at him from behind the reporter's legs. "Why don't you go help smack your brothers you snitch?"

Purple's tail started thumping against the cabinet at the idea, and he dropped to all fours to put on speed as he darted out between Yosh's legs and down the hall.

"Why are you so obsessed with furniture anyway?" Yoshi asked the cameraman after Purple had disappeared down the stairs, and he heard Blue and Orange start squealing in delight.

"My parents own a museum exhibit." The camera man said idly, pulling the mirror back from the wall enough to peer behind, and make a wounded noise. "It has the manufacturer seal on it still."

"Oh course it does. All Hamato furniture is authentic."

"It has crayon on it." The camera man looked close to tears.

"Yes?" Yoshi didn't understand the question. He looked at the reporter, who was still recording and writing furiously. "You are going to want to put this into the article, aren't you?" Yoshi sighed.

The reporter gave him a winning smile. "I think our readers would enjoy this very much Mr. Hamato."

#LSoW #my writing #anon ask #ask #rottmnt #tmnt #tmntau #snippet #me purposefully not naming the OC's so i don't get attached #send me asks guys i get bored

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