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artsybelle1015 · 1 year

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Vil x Anxious!Female!Reader

A short fic about Vil being worried for the prefect.

warnings: reader is a female and uses she/her pronouns, also is Yuu, panicking and anxiety, spoilers for book 5!!! not proof read!

•••

“You,” Vil snapped to her. “Get up and fix your posture, you own this place now act like it.”

Life had been bothersome for [Y/N] ever since the SDC group had to intrude on her home. First off is Ace and Deuce, they were loud and hurt her ears, she loved them but couldn’t be around them too long because of the pain. Then, there was Kalim and Jamil, who always were arguing one sidedly. Kalim was loud as well, but Jamil was scary, he seemed like he would snap at any second. Lastly, surprisingly took the cake for the worst scenario of people who could live with him, the Pomefiore trio.

Firstly, Epel wasn’t as bad as the other two, but he was always making semi-sexist remarks and miserable around the house. Second, Rook was straight up creepy and had a vibe, he may mean well but at the same time she felt some privacy to be gone. Him even looking at her made her feel like he knew her darkest secrets.

Vil was the worst of them all though, making a strict eating plan, strict bedtime, and always judging everyone for anything. She was a frightened soul always, his stares made it no better. Those eyes were filled with disgust. Despite that, she could never be the confident manager he wants, she can’t support them the way he wishes.

She didn’t want part of this, it was the other three of her friends who did, but Crowley forced this on her. How cruel can someone be? Grim was already enough to deal with!

Although he had the best intentions, everyone was scared of Vil (apart from Rook) and thought he was out of line for his training. Deep down, everyone knew he was right and had the best intentions in mind, they all had a goal to win and he knew what to do.

He wasn’t a bad person, but she crumbled in the corner of the hallways, his figure looming over her. She had been triggered by Ace and Deuce arguing and just wanted some quiet, not to be interrogated. A cry broke out from her which caught even Vil by surprise.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered, pushing the front of her body more towards the walls. Everything was getting to her, she just wanted some peace.

Instead of getting angry, he only sat down beside her. “I agree they are being horrendous now as of currently though, if it weren’t for them I promise you this would be a respectful house. You though, need to calm down and go somewhere more appropriate instead of breaking down in the hallways.”

This made her feel worse, shying away from him more.

He sighed, “Okay, how about we go for a walk.”

This surprised her a bit, she wasn’t used to that forward of kindness, she shot a look to make sure he wasn’t fooling around. He wasn’t, of course he wasn’t he is Vil Schoenheit, a celebrity dedicated to his crafts.

“May I hold your hand?”

She slowly nodded, still stunned. He merely just grabbed her hand and walked her to the downstairs and outside, ignoring any comment being made. His skin was silky and smooth as expected, and the dorm uniform sleeve felt like a comforting velvet.

“Listen, although crying isn’t a solution, I don’t wish for you to feel unsafe,” he declared, taking them to the main street. “You may or may not have realized this, but we rely on you too, so I need you to be in your best shape.”

“Rely on me?” she sniffled, tears may have calmed down, but her voice was still horsed.

He didn’t say anything, just held tighter onto her hand and continued to stride forward. Although he spoke the truth, he didn’t want to admit her he wanted to see her happy and well for peace of mind.

•••

a/n: ik this is bad and not long, but it was practice for me with my own yuu basically and also because i haven’t completed my other two fics i’m working on since they’re long and detailed augh

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toneelspeelster · 8 months

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ethics of motherhood: the jane / charlie spring essay

ever since the release of the second season of heartstopper i've seen so many different opinions on jane spring as a parent; she's the absolute devil, overbearing, completely against understanding charlie and his relationship with nick etc. etc. but i would like to delve into why i think the way alice set up jane spring in s2 is a /great/ gateway into a deeper, nuanced storyline between jane and charlie because, quite honestly - it's clearly long overdue. once again, i'd like to use backstory from the comics to infer what might be happening to jane in the series and how, maybe a bit surprisingly to some - charlie is in some respects a lot more like her than you might think.

please note: this is not an apology, or an excuse to jane's behaviour as a mother to charlie; i just want to give her actions a context and i think, show the room for growth which I think would be a beautiful, very nuanced, storyline between parent and child to take on in charlie's mental health story in s3/4.

(tw for parental abuse, discussion of eating disorder)

one thing that really informs jane spring as a character and as a mother in general is her own mother. we see in the comics that her mother is a. physically abusive and b. does not allow jane to have any criticism against her and uses that as a reason for the abuse.

jane later tells charlie the following on her relationship with her mother, acknowledging the effect that her mother had on her - to an extent. she softens the things that happened to her.

jane knows this of her being a mother: she's overbearing, her mother was too, and she was also hoping to be very different to what her mother was to her.

now what i think is a vital thing to consider is the following: jane grew up in a household where she was physically and emotionally unsafe. she was hit for expressing normal teenage behaviour. it should be okay to sometimes not agree with your parents and pushing back at them. they should provide you with a safe method of communication for doing so but they never taught jane that. as a result, i think it's a very human response of people to try and make sure they deal with things differently when they get older; but that also can result in overcompensating behaviour.

my feeling is that jane is overly focused, i think unconsciously, on keeping in particular charlie safe, and in that sometimes loses sight on making him feel actually (emotionally) safe. because safe means to jane: performing well in school, not doing anything that might be dangerous, but also: keep in line with expected social behaviour. what is the safest thing, jane thinks? that your behaviour is perfect. because if you don't give others any reason to think you're being out of order (in whatever way), you will not get abuse. safe is being perfect, doing everything perfectly. you can and should control your life in such a way that it will be possible for things to be perfect.

and guess who feels that way too?

kids learn a lot more from their parents than they would think (or even like).

one of the most interesting changes from novel to tv series i think, is the change of having jane not being immediately supportive of nick from the get go; as it fits in quite well with jane's character trait of being focused on charlie's safety (and by extension julio's character, but he goes about this differently and quite honestly... can be quite of a wet wipe lol) and exercising control over his behaviour to make him safe in her own eyes. she wants him to be socially presentable ("please change out of your pyjamas to meet guests"), to focus on school work, and for him to listen to her when she says he needs to come home; in a sense i think she wants to be aware of where charlie is at a given time and not too stay out too late, because the night? that might be dangerous.

we have to remember that charlie was severely bullied only a year ago, and julio's constant reminders of charlie in s1 of please calling him when the situation gets out of hand with nick's circle of "friends", indicates to me that his parents were aware of the bullying, maybe being informed by ajayi bc i don't see charlie being able to tell that to his parents himself. so: nick's "sort" (tao mentions his circle as "exactly the sort of people who bullied [charlie]") are in jane's eyes boys to be weary of.

so when charlie tells his parents, jane doesn't totally trust it.

this is worsened when it turns out nick is also going on the paris trip. for charlie, that's not the only reason to on the trip at all, but the way the conversation goes with julio's comment that's the reason why he wants to go, this is where nick gets associated in her mind with charlie as something that she needs to be aware of and perhaps even intervene. to make sure he's safe. she needs to control the situation if it goes wrong.

which she does. almost immediately. when charlie shows behaviour out of the ordinary for him and the only cause she sees is nick; he's the new factor in all of this.

it's like she thinks if she doesn't completely nip this behaviour in the bud in a very hard way, all the bad things imaginable will come immediately. like charlie would flunk school within a few weeks. charlie, who's been a high achiever! julio's response is actually quite appropriate, i personally think: it's not a wonder that you're unfocused bc you have been spending time a lot (which we've seen! on screen!) but also i don't want ban you from seeing him completely, just set some boundaries.

interestingly enough, this is also due to charlie overly focusing his efforts on keeping nick essentially perfectly safe in his coming out as well; unfortunately, in that final scene shown above, he's just realised that he's got no control over nick's coming outs being perfect, as david has shown to be very biphobic and dismissive of nick in a way that neither nick or charlie had any say in or could even prevent from happening. jane has the option of trying to control things because she's his mother and has some authority over his life.

jane disappears in the show after this issue of charlie handing in his course work gets resolved for a while, so it does seem like she very much keeps to her word afterwards.

she comes back in time for some growth. tori rightly mentions that the family dinner is not something that their mum would totally enjoy bc tori has seen the criticism jane has regarding nick. but charlie does know nick, feels emotionally safe with him, especially after their convo in the louvre and nick being open about his dad, so charlie is right in saying nick, as a person not the idea that jane has of him by association, might convince her.

and he does.

nick can be trusted; nick has come out to his neglectful parent, chastised his older brother for being an asshole, mentions he feels happy with his life with charlie and living openly as his boyfriend and apologises to his mother for ruining the dinner (a sign of a well mannered boy!). and when sarah tells jane that this is something that she's never seen nick do and that must be of nick's deep care for charlie, jane thinks..

and comes around (a bit).

unfortunately, her overt focus on charlie's grades slipping being due to nick's influence in his life completely makes her neglect the signs that charlie is not eating well (that's something that is building up so gradually that i don't think she sees it as an option). there are some great metas on here by @ finnicksannie regarding this being one of the biggest reasons why charlie's grades are actually slipping.

all in all, i just want to close by saying this is a deeply traumatised mother parenting a deeply traumatised son and they both need time and therapy for a better understanding of the communication between them.

and i think the end of season 2 sets up a nice storyline about that quite nicely. jane accepts nick in their circle, but her communication with charlie has not been resolved; it's just a little tick towards her needing to trust charlie more. he's got good instincts. she's starting to realise.

this is all not an excuse. it's a set up for a responsibility on jane's part to work to communicate with charlie better. but life is life. and we're humans. sometimes we need to learn to grow.

and in the mean time, in the small moments, maybe with what you would say is the bare minimum, with not agreeing with charlie's self deprecation, jane does show her love of her son.

i don't think it's without reason that this was shown.

i have not read the novel solitaire / nick & charlie / this winter. feel free to add in comments if there's something in there too! but i do feel the series might incorporate jane's storyline maybe a little bit differently than from in the books; but it sounds like her controlling behaviour is a throughline to it all.

#heartstopper #heartstopperedit #heartstopper meta #charlie spring #jane spring #julio spring #nick nelson #narlie #my words #my edits #daddy issues the essay last season with nick's dad #mommy issues the essay now!

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tommysversion · 9 months

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Electric Touch (Part 1; Santiago Garcia x AFAB!Reader)

Summary: For five years or longer, you’ve had a thing for your brother’s best friend. A chance opportunity brings you together at last. (it’s smut with very little plot.) CWs: mentions of drug use & addiction, mentions of rehabilitation, scars & gunshot wounds. Unsafe PIV sex (the pullout method is NOT reliable, folks), oral sex, reference to an implied age gap.

Word Count: 2.9k

Masterlist

He’s your brother’s best friend, which automatically makes him completely off limits. Maybe it’s that sense of being utterly forbidden that draws you to him, initially. That, and you have eyes, and Santiago Garcia is without a doubt one of the most beautiful men you’ve ever seen. Beautiful, dangerous, everything you could ever want.

It’s a pity he has such a reputation; you’ve been present at enough cookouts, been the designated driver for your brother and his old friends enough times to hear every sordid detail, stories of how he used to seduce his informants, or, as Ben puts it?

“Fucked his way through half of Colombia.”

It shouldn’t bother you. It isn’t the body count - both metaphorical and literal - that bothers you. It’s the blatant tug of jealousy in your heart whenever you’re reminded that other people have been able to touch him. If only you were braver, but you’re afraid he’ll only ever see you as Frankie’s kid sister, the college girl who used to hide in her room and study whenever they got too rowdy.

That was years ago, and you’ve since grown up. Graduated. Outgrown the shy girl and blossomed into a confident woman. You don’t struggle for dates, for companionship, but it never lasts, inevitably comes to a grinding halt whenever whoever you’re seeing clues in to the not so subtle fact that you’re completely hung up on someone else. You’ve tried so damn hard not to be, but at this point? You’ve just accepted your fate.

It wouldn’t be so difficult, if you weren’t in such close proximity as of late. It’s just been you and Frankie for years, but now he has a wife, a baby daughter, and he’s trying to get clean. He’s accepted a plea deal to get his pilots license back, agreed to go to rehab. You’re pretty sure that’s more for baby Maria’s sake, than the license.

Still. Your brother is your best friend, and you miss him, miss him rocking up to your house with your niece while his wife is at work, because he’s your brother and he’s always there for you. Since he’s been in the rehab centre, Santi’s made it his business to look in on you. Sometimes he just comes and repairs things for you. Other times you just drink coffee and then go visit Frankie. He’s doing art therapy at the moment, sketching helicopters in surprisingly pristine detail. It must be working, that and the meds he’s on, he says it helps with the urge to use. You’re just glad he’s getting help.

It’s easy to keep a lid on things when you see Santi barely often, in the context of him being Frankie’s buddy. Less so when he’s standing in your kitchen in an olive green shirt that’s at least one size too small, clinging to his broad shoulders, the sunlight highlighting the silver streaks in his dark curls as he makes coffee.

You can’t help but stare, trying to be subtle about it but allowing your gaze to linger when his back is turned. Your home isn’t tiny, but the space feels constricted when he’s here, like the room shrinks and you’re distinctly aware of his presence. Like you don’t spend most nights laying awake thinking of him. Of a dozen different scenarios in which he could make you his. Sometimes, in your mind, he’s passionate and gentle. Other times, he’s degrading and rough; you think about him shoving his fingers in your mouth and taunting you, putting you on your hands and knees and fucking you until you cry, making you beg and plead for him.

It’s difficult not to think of those daydreams when he’s in close proximity, and you’re immensely fucking glad he can’t read minds.

You know what he is, what he’s done, so it’s incredibly strange to have him following you around the house like a guard dog while you fold laundry, go to put it away. Even stranger, the way he hesitates in the doorway of your room. Like coming in would cross some sort of line. Maybe it would.

“You can come in, you know. Or, I mean… you don’t have to stick around. I know you probably have way better shit to be doing than… I don’t know. This?”

There’s no bitterness in the way you say it. You aren’t sure why he’s stuck around longer than he has to; he’s done it a few times now, lingering in your house, helping you with odd jobs and such. You wonder if it’s some misplaced obligation to Frankie.

“You want me to fuck off?” He leans against the doorframe, a slight smile playing across his face as he says it.

“Not what I meant. Just don’t feel like you have to stick around, you know?”

He doesn’t answer, not straight away. Instead he very deliberately crosses into your room and sits down on the edge of your bed, watching as you put neatly folded clothes away into the dresser. You try not to think about the fact that he’s sitting on your bed. The bed that has fresh sheets on it because you’d soaked the old ones the night before, thinking of him, fucking yourself into a dazed stupor.

“It’s not an obligation. I know you’re thinking that, but it isn’t. Consider maybe I actually enjoy the normality of this routine.” He dips his head slightly as he says it, as though admitting it was almost… embarrassing.

You must be misreading things; wishful thinking is a hell of a drug.

“Very funny. I’m sure it’s the highlight of your week, checking in on your best friends kid sister.” You say it lightly, but the sarcasm is there.

“I’m very aware you aren’t a child, princesa. Haven’t been for a very long time. If I didn’t want to be around you, I wouldn’t. You know what I’m like. I’m not going to pretend to enjoy your company if I don’t.”

You raise an eyebrow. “That’s the precise opposite of what Benny says you were like in Colombia. Pretending to enjoy people’s company, charming people. All of that.”

He watches you for a moment, expression unreadable.

“Wasn’t aware you’d been keeping track of those details.”

“Hard not to. So either you’re being polite, or you’re trying to get laid.” Your tone makes it clear that you’re joking about the last part, toss the last of the laundry into the dresser and turn to face him. You probably shouldn’t have made the comment, worry you’ve told on yourself, that he might be uncomfortable by it. The look on his face surprises you. He’s watching you with a sort of intensity you’ve not seen before, at least, not directed at you.

“I’m not just being polite.”

The implication hangs between you as you stare at him, waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to call your bluff.

“Very funny.” You get out, your throat dry.

He rolls his eyes, beckons you over. You hesitate for a moment, then move, cross the small distance so you’re standing in front of him, close enough to touch.

“I’m not joking.”

“Santi…” you’re not sure what to say; it comes out more like a warning, confused, knowing that if you cross this line there’s no going back. “You can’t expect me to believe that you actually want me.”

“Why not? I’ll admit, I waited until a point when Fish couldn’t beat my ass for it, which is probably shitty, but I never said I was a good man.”

You stare at him, processing the words for a moment before you level him with a challenging look.

“Prove it.” The words come out before you can consider whether or not it’s a good idea, intent on calling his bluff, regardless of whether or not it’ll hurt your feelings.

He’s on his feet in the time it takes you to blink, pulling you flush against him and devouring your mouth in a hungry kiss. You lean into him, let your hands wander freely for as long as he’ll allow it, fingers curling into his belt loops to pull yourself closer to him. He doesn’t stop you, curls his rough hand into your hair to keep you in the kiss, his other hand grabbing your ass for a moment before he’s releasing you, finding the zip of your dress and yanking it down.

Your hands find the hem of that too tight dark green shirt, pull it up over his head. He lets you do it, a smug smirk crossing his face at the way you stare. His torso is littered with scars, some old, some more fresh. Your fingertips skim across some of them, touching gently until he moves you so he can rid you of your underwear, turning you and backing you up.

The back of your knees hit the bed, and you fall backwards, pulling him with you, caged in by his arms bracing himself above you. Your hand twists into salt and pepper curls, dragging him into another greedy kiss, your other hand tracing along his chest, touching the dimples and ridges of every different scar. You’re not military, but you know a bullet wound from a knife wound, touch each one reverently, enjoying the way he practically purrs under your touch.

“These don’t hurt, do they?” You run your fingers across one of the fresher bullet wounds, where it looks like he was grazed by it, and he shakes his head.

“No. They’re numb, mostly.” He presses an open mouthed kiss to your collarbone, kisses down your sternum, across your hips. “Like it when you touch them, though.”

“Yeah?” Your hand is back in his hair, trailing up the back of his neck carefully and settling; you can feel the scar there, too, on your way up.

“Hmm.” He purrs it as he spreads your legs, nips at the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. You stare at him for a moment, committing the sight before you to memory, because fuck, you’ve wanted him for so long, and if this is a one time stroke of luck, you want to remember every moment of it.

Slowly, he keeps kissing up your thigh, pausing when he’s maybe an inch from your core; you can feel his hot breath against your sensitive skin, shiver under it.

“Tease.” You pout at him, watch him smirk at you from between your thighs, dark eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Oh, absolutely, princesa. I’m gonna take my time, gonna eat this sweet little pussy until you’re begging for my cock.” The tip of his tongue flicks out, circles your clit as his hands keep your legs spread wide for him, thighs draped over his broad shoulders. You wriggle slightly under his touch, drawing a pleased little hum from his throat as he moves down, and without warning, buries his face in your cunt, his nose brushing your clit as he devours you like he’s starving for you.

The sounds you make are nothing short of obscene, little gasps and moans, tugging on his hair, begging him to keep going, to keep touching you, a keening sound tearing from your lips when he slides two thick fingers into you, immediately curling them into your sweet spot.

“There we go, that’s it…” His eyes glitter with lust as he praises you, starts to work you open as he kisses his way back up your body, pausing to suck lazily on your nipples, biting them gently before he returns his attention to your throat, kissing sensitive skin, drawing more sweet little sounds from you. “Look at you, so tight round my fingers…”

You whimper, drag him into another desperate kiss, unable to resist touching him when he’s so willing. He pulls away reluctantly, smirking when you make a pathetic little noise of disappointment.

“So needy…” he draws his fingers out of you, groaning softly at the lewd wet sound of your cunt as he presses them back in, knuckle deep.

Santi trails open mouthed kisses along your throat again, sucking a mark into your collarbone, making you gasp and contract around his fingers. When he greedily sucks a nipple into his mouth again, still fucking you with his fingers, you cry out, a desperate little sound.

“C’mon, princesa, let go for me. Cum for me, then beg me for my cock,” his breath is warm against your flushed skin.

You can feel the hot, heavy length of his cock pressed against your thigh as he kisses you again, and it briefly occurs to you that his long string of informants never stood a goddamn chance. No wonder they all told him anything he wanted to hear. You’d sell your soul, too, if it meant he’d touch you like this again.

He bites down on your nipple gently, tugs it between his teeth, curling his fingers against your sweet spot, and you gush around him, shaking beneath him as you soak his still curling fingers, your slick dripping out of you onto the sheets.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he draws his fingers out of you slowly, presses them to your lips. Eagerly you part them, suck his fingers into your mouth greedily, clean your own release.

It’s not enough. You’re going to do exactly as he asked, beg him for it.

“Santi…” you whine his name, watch him grin at you smugly.

“Something you want?”

“Please…” you draw it out, uncaring how pathetic you sound, “please, I need you…”

He gives you a little smirk, cages you in beneath him once more, one big scarred hand moving to hike your thigh up around his waist. You keep it there automatically as that same hand guides his cock to your still dripping pussy, notches the tip at your entrance and pushes in slowly.

It takes all of his control not to just slam into you, but then your nails drag up his back and you give him a pleading look, and all of his control shatters. He presses in deep, bottoming out in a single fluid thrust that has you screaming his name, making him wonder why he didn’t do this sooner, because fuck if his name has ever sounded sweeter being moaned in sheer pleasure than it does on your lips.

He grinds against you, teasing, drawing more of those sweet sounds from you.

“So tight, just made for my cock, weren’t you?” The words are low, soft praise in your ear, soft and filthy and perfect when he grinds his hips steadily into yours. “Should have done this so much sooner, thought about you so often. Did you think of me?”

“So many times,” you admit, moaning for him as he rocks into you.

“Yeah? You touch this sweet little pussy and think of me?” His thumb moves to rub at your clit, in time with the steady roll of his hips, drawing circles on the sensitive little bud. You whimper for him, arch your back up and sigh.

“So often, wanted you so bad.”

“Oh, I can tell, sweetheart, I can feel how much this pretty cunt needed me.” He presses a wet kiss to your collarbone before he picks up the pace. “Desperate for me. So wet and tight. Absolutely fucking beautiful.” He trails off into a low growl as he slams into you, harder and faster with each rock of his hips, pressing deep, drawing obscene little mewls from your lips.

“Santi, I -“ you can’t get the words out, steadily becoming more and more overwhelmed as he slowly works you closer to the edge.

“I know, pretty girl, I can feel it. Cum for me.” The last three words are a demand, no matter how softly spoken it may be, and it’s enough to send you over. You cling to him, his name falling from your lips like a repeated prayer, over and over, moaned and desperate, feeling your cunt tighten around him and soak his cock as he drives himself deeper into you.

He knows he isn’t necessarily a good man; his hands have held weapons that have ended lives, his mouth spoken words that have sentenced people to death. Those same hands are exceedingly gentle in how he handles you, his lips soft and warm against your skin. He knows you aren’t fragile, but he handles you as if you are anyway.

The way you shake and whimper for him just drives him closer to the edge of his own release, no longer caring about anything except chasing it. His hips slam into yours, rough and uncontrolled, making no attempt to be precise anymore, finally pulling out of you at the last second, groaning and cursing as he spills onto your stomach.

“Fuck…” He groans, panting for breath as he stills, keeping himself off of you with one hand as the other moves to brush sweat damp curls from his eyes.

You grin at him from where you’re caged in beneath him, still trying to regulate your own breathing. Once he can breathe properly himself, he grins right back.

“Worth the wait?”

“Don’t be so arrogant.” You laugh and swat at him.

His grin widens as he glances at his watch, then shakes his head.

“Visitation’s over.”

“Fuck.” You chew your lip and then shrug, “I’ll tell Frankie I was sick. Very sick.”

“Oh yeah, and what’s my excuse?” Santi smirks down at you, clearly eager to humor you in his post climax state.

You consider it for a moment, or at least pretend to, before you lean up and kiss him.

“You had to take care of me.”

“Yeah? Might just have to do that again…” he leans down to devour your lips once more in another hungry kiss, any other activity for the day completely forgotten.

#my writing #santiago pope garcia #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia #Oscar Isaac #triple frontier #triple frontier fic

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petitprincess1 · 1 year

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Greetings you, do grace us with some unhinged Sun headcanons in these trying times ;3

How dawe you! 83 Well, I on antibiotics and got small cat bite infection, so I will do my best:

Sun does his best to keep you at the Daycare. He sometimes will go against his code and create a mess, saying that both of us missed a spot. You never believe it, but you still help the ray of sunshine out. Sun's just happy to be able to enjoy your radiance for even longer.

Anytime anyone seems like they're even daring to like you, Sun prances up behind you, silently. His eyes turn black with pinprick white pupils. He slouches over, turns his head to the side, and his smile widens ever-so-slightly. It works in freaking people out and it makes others evade you completely if Sundrop just looks in their direction. It makes you feel lonely and self-conscious...perfect~

Sundrop has definitely followed you home, surprisingly being sneaky and quiet. He oftentimes just watches you through a window from a distance, tracking your heat signature. Although, he does treat himself by climbing through your bedroom window and watching you sleep.

You have woken up in the morning with strange marks on your shoulder or neck. As if something was trying to puncture your skin. Strange. Try not to think about it. Suppress.

Moon has to talk Sun out of kidnapping you or wanting to squeeze you tightly. He knows Sun desperately wants to take care of you in any way, even if he was the one to cause the injury. He is...somewhat helpless to stop him. Despite being more of a parental figure, Moon still enjoys you almost as much as Sun.

Yes, Sun has also stolen wardrobe, dirty and clean, from your home.

Sundrop has affectionately called you a whore and a slut. Unfortunately, his filter blocks those words by making him say you're a wonderful person or that you're silly. But judging by the hunger and desperation in his eyes, you feel it's something more dangerous. Suppress.

It's no longer just tiny punctures. There are actual hickies and bite marks now. Is that blood that you see? Suppress.

He's getting closer and closer to you. His hands wander along your body as the two of you and the children watch Disney movies. He tells you that he would "knit" for you, but that's not what he actually meant. Suppress.

No matter where you go in the Pizzaplex, eyes are all on you, but you never see where. All you know is that Sundrop treats your brief absence as if you had gone off to war. He hugs you so tightly that you can't speak, so you punch his shoulder to make him stop. He does...but finds your panic adorable. Suppress. Just don't think about it.

On your walks home from work, an unsafe feeling creeps up on you. You bought a taser and pepper spray, just in case. But something tells you that your need more than that. Someone has followed you into your home. You thi- know who it is. How can you stop such a force? Don't think about it. Stop.

Sun's not at work the next day? Where could he be? He would never miss out on the little...spawns, as he often called them. Did he always dislike them? Is that why mutters so disdainfully when the Daycare is open and when it closes? Where is he!? Just keep working. Don't think about it!

You worked with the kids all day and no sign of Sun. No one has seen him. You walk home from work and keep this icy chill down your spine. Your friends suddenly stopped talking to you. They say they are scared. Scared of a figure that lured behind you like a shadow and are angry you didnt tell them about a boyfriend, yet tell you to break up with them. Who are they talking about? You have no other home but your own. Stop. Suppress.

You get home. Your lights are all on and you KNOW you turned them off! Suppress.

The curtains are still closed, yet you can hear humming. Suppress.

You unlock the door and open it so, so slowly. You're not breathing. Inhale. Exhale. Suppress.

Oh, it's Sunny. He's in your home, wearing an apron, and gave you a cutesy finger wave. He welcomes you back and he has the warmest grin on his face, while he's making you dinner. He also "reminds" you that you should really get a deadbolt on your door, never know who may come in. It's so domestic and calm...but you feel like your one small thread cut away from breaking down and crying.

It's okay. Sundrop is here. You- ...He found you. Suppress.

#i had too much fun at the end there lol #solar flare #kinda-ish #virus sundrop #evil sundrop #fnaf sb #fnaf security breach #fnaf #fnaf sundrop #fnaf sun #possessive sun #sundrop x reader #sun x reader #headcanons #tw stalking #tw possessive behavior #tw obsessive behavior #long post

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randomwriteronline · 2 months

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part of @cantankerouscanuck's Bionicle/LU AU

The whispers had already been... Peculiar enough.

After all, as Dusk had pointed out to her deeply puzzled when Midna had casually mentioned some up and coming Cucco magnate had established her company in an abandoned factory near the outskirts of the biggest Steltian city, who in the name of Karzhani bases an up-and-coming industrial empire solely on a species of mostly flightless and often temperamental bird-like Rahi?

The following investigation had then revealed that the base of operation of the misterious "Cucco Mistress" was no less bizarre than her franchising plan.

For starters most of the structure seemed completely untouched from its previous terrible condition, courtesy of a horrid accident involving volatile chemicals, twelve unsafe power cables, safety exits the doors of which were operated via electrical current, and a tendency to cut corners by using material that was barely above waste level for the building's construction.

Furthermore, the various half-hazarded patches in missing walkways or walls or pavements were also noticeably nest-like, implying the architects bethind such avantgarde maintenance were the Cuccos themselves - a hypothesis partially corroborated by the fact that no male Vortixx worked around, on or in the factory and that the place was positively overrun with endless swarms of the small apparently inoffensive Rahi, which no doubt functioned not only as renovation crew but also a well trained and bloodthirsty security corp.

They were certainly very thorough in their search when they stopped the two females before they could enter, gently pecking at Vortixx and Toa alike to sus out anything suspicious the two of them could have carried.

Dusk's presence had however seemed to put them at ease, and the pair had been allowed to advance safely.

Midna decided to just accept that without question.

As some Matoran say, you don't look a gift Ussal crab in the mouth.

Their journey up to the supposed office was an arduous one, more for the accidental environmental hazard than the surprisingly docile Rahi themselves, who mostly clucked around and minded their business while expanding their nests.

Their surprisingly mild-mannered behaviour was perhaps the thing that put the Vortixx most on edge: to tame such a large swarm of beasts known for being able to level a small town with the same fightening ease of a Mana-Ko, or even a Tahtorak, one had to be either formidable, deranged, or formidably deranged. And she had no idea which one of those was the worst to be up against.

Just in case, she grazed Dusk's arm in a silent heed to be cautious and ready for anything.

The Toa did not turn her violet eye to meet her gaze, but she did subtly strengthen her grip around the costum made Rhotuka Cannon hanging from her back, ready to fire at a moment's notice.

A Cucco with a subtle golden sheen to its body perked up as they approached what seemed to be the only door in the whole building: it craned its flexible neck left, then right, to get a good look at them, bubbling a few clucks as if interrogating the few of its brethren that had followed the two females up until this point.

At last it straightened and crowed so loudly that the sound shook the entire structure hard enough to make the walls wobble.

"Come in!" an imperious voice called.

Oh, this was no Vortixx. She was definitely trying to sound like one, imitating their confident tone, but there was a slightly trembling quality to it which betrayed a little anxiety that no serpentine being worth her salt would have allowed herself to display.

Midna and Dusk inhaled deeply, steeling their nerves.

Whether through diplomacy or violence, they'd both be getting out of there in one piece.

The Cucco pecked the door open for them, and the magnate turned.

She was trying to shove what seemed like a modified disk launcher under what could only be described as a desk carpet - since it very much was just a chunk of an old thick carpet slapped on top of a makeshift desk held together with... A few miracles, probably, seeing the lack of any screws or glue of any kind - in a poor attempt at hiding it while appearing perfectly relaxed and at ease. The failure was evident, as they'd clearly caught her by surprise: as Midna had predicted, this unprepared mess was the furthest thing from a Vortixx one could expect.

In fact, she was a Toa.

One of colors Midna had frankly yet to see.

She narrowed her twilight eyes and flashed the Kakama-wearing magnate a grin: "Good evening, fellow entrepreneuresse," she drawled amiably.

The Toa coughed to clear her throat: "Good evening! What, what brings you, uh, here? To my - humble, beginnings?"

"Curiosity," Midna replied - which was true. "Your venture is quite the... Unusual one. You offer services of Rahi taming, I understand, considering your entourage?"

"Uh, no, just - well, yes, but only - only Cuccos."

"An excellent choice. Small, incospicuous, known for coming in large numbers... A bonafide army at your lucky client's disposal. Ah," and she elegantly gestured over at Dusk, who stood perfectly still by her side, mismatched crimson eye gleaming softly in the penumbra: "You don't mind my bodyguard watching over my visit, do you now?"

The supposed magnate nodded a bit too quickly, sparing the Toa of Twilight a glance. Then she blinked, and turned to look at her sister better: she squinted behind her mask, bent her neck forward, tilted her head...

"Dusk?" she finally asked, baffled.

Dusk squinted back at her.

Reaching out with her Psionic powers, she rummaged briefly through her sister's memories and thoughts.

Then suddenly her eyes went wide with recognition: "Linkle?"

"Yeah?" the other Toa nodded: "What are you doing here?"

Midna coughed with a sound that was closer to a growl: "I'm sorry, you know each other?"

"We trained together a while, spent time in the same fortress - what are you doing here!" Dusk replied. "The last time I saw you, you were supposed to go to a mission on Zakaz!"

"I did!"

"Did you?"

"I mean - I did leave for Zakaz, I didn't really reach it-"

"What - Linkle, Zakaz is north-west of Stelt, several kio north-west. You mean to tell me that you've been here for seven hundred years and you had no idea?"

"I didn't just stay here!" Linkle replied, almost offended. "The road there was long!"

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean that the road there was long! The map was a mess so I had to rely on the compass, and then there was this misty island that messed up my navigation at one point, too - but they did have a really pretty city and delicious food, it was great, they let me stay there a week or so before I went on - and then in the islands I ended up there was always some kind of problem so I stuck around to help, and then I heard there might be a need for Toa back in Hyrule, and my brother, Warriors, you remember him?, he might be there? I think? So I thought to go there, but I told you, the map was a mess, so I just, you know..."

Dusk pinched the portion of her mask between her eye sockets: "You based your navigation on nothing but your compass?"

"Of course! What's wrong with that?"

"You're a Toa of Magnetism--"

"Magnetism?" Midna tried to interrupt.

"--Your powers are almost designed to mess with it, of course you never got to Zakaz!"

"My powers don't do anything to my compass!"

"You got lost, didn't you?"

"Yes, but it's not for -- and what's with you anyways? With all the dark marks and the red eye and stuff? Also is that a cannon? Can I try it?"

"Magnetism?"

Caught between two fires, Dusk held out a hand to stop the slightly younger Toa from chewing her audio receptor off, grabbed Midna with the other, and dragged the Vortixx into a corner.

"She is a Toa of Magnetism?" said being continued to think extremely loudly, eyes blown wide. "You know a Toa of Magnetism? You knew one this whole time? Do you know how few of those there are out there? She's a collector's piece! That's how few there are! In the entire universe! I've seen fellow Xians engineer weapons to kill them with! I've been at those weapons' testings!"

"Maybe don't tell her right to her face," Dusk whispered through their telepathic link, hoping she could keep her calm.

That hope proved to be in vain when the Vortixx silently shook her by the shoulders: "Do you have any idea how dangerous it is for her to be here?! Even more than Xia?! How many beings would jump at the opportunity of killing her or incapacitating her to sell her to the highest bidder?! Oh, Mata Nui, of course she has all these Cuccos around her all the time, she'd never survive otherwise!"

"No, the Cuccos are just a thing she does."

"They're what?"

"It's a whole - she's always done this, it's not important right now. Midna, listen--"

"What do you mean she's always done this?!"

"It's like a hobby of hers. Midna--"

"A hobby?! She tames Cuccos as a hobby?!"

The Toa wrapped her hand around the befuddled Vortixx's long snout, using thin shadowy tendrils to hold it shut - despite the fact that, due to their conversation being completely telepathic, it was effectively completely useless to do so.

"Midna," she thought sternly into her head: "We need to go with her."

Midna blinked.

"Why?" she dared to ask.

"Because if we leave her to her sense of direction, she is going to get lost again. With her luck she might walk all the way into Karzhani. You said it yourself, she is endangered - here and everywhere else. Are you going to leave what is maybe the last Fa-Toa to die because she can't read a map?"

From Linkle's perspective, some wordless and incredibly sapphic thing was happening in a corner of her would-be office and she was awkwardly wondering if it would have been rude to shush her more curious Cuccos out of the room before they grew interested in the intense if perfectly quiet exchange going on right in front of her and tried to get a better read on the situation by pecking at the parties involved, who very likely would have not enjoyed being interrupted.

In short, she would have liked to be elsewhere.

She was as such very relieved when whatever that was ended and the two females turned back to her, perfectly composed.

"So you're not planning on staying, if I understand," Midna inquired.

"Uh... No, not really," Linkle nodded back at her. "As I said, Hyrule... My brother... You know..."

The Vortixx hummed: "Well, we won't be staying too long around here, either," she said in a casual tone. He bodyguard replied to her sideways glance with one of her own, complicity crackling between their thoughts. "Perhaps you could give us a lift to newer shores. Let's see - how would you like a cannon like Dusk's as payment?"

#bionicle #linked universe #midna #dusk lu #linkle #random writing #WOMEN. YOU AGREE. REBLOG

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raisedbythetv89 · 10 months

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The thing about a lot of the Autistic coded characters in media, especially with female characters (thinking Anya Btvs and Bones as examples) is they’re often shown as being almost completely oblivious to how they’re perceived by the group and only know they’ve made a misstep when someone else tells them directly they did something everyone perceives as strange or odd or impolite and that is not the reality for so many Autistic women - especially adult women.

Many of us know almost instantly when we have made a misstep and so part of our mask is cataloguing that feedback to try and prevent that from happening again which is why so many of us go undiagnosed because this hyper-awareness caused by our socialization as women turns us into the slightly quirky manic pixie dream girl archetype or in my case the “surprisingly bold” and entertaining yet slightly weird girl who is a little odd but not enough to cause alarm and if you’re pretty it’s often found charming or refreshing.

And so you’ve developed this insane hyper awareness and then you learn you’re autistic and life isn’t this hard for everyone else and masking is slowly killing you because it disregulates your nervous system so severely you can’t eat or sleep properly and you start developing all these chronic pains and health conditions so you have to start unmasking which means being PAINFULLY AWARE of how bizarre/weird/different you come off in social settings without the mask you worked on for decades and you just have to accept it!! You just have to be totally ok with other’s discomfort at your abnormal behavior that doesn’t follow social norms and take zero action to try and rectify the situation or prevent it in future unless absolutely necessary like to keep a job or keep yourself safe around unsafe people

and the thing is, when you’re hyper aware that you are different but you don’t know how/why as a kid you’re always trying to “get it right” by “humaning properly” and finally fitting in. Embracing standing out and letting everyone see just how different you are is one of the scariest things you can face - like I have to know they think I’m super fucking weird and do NOTHING ABOUT IT - for the sake of my health??? But standing out is dangerous what are you talking about??!?!?

The blissful ignorance to the social norms you’re breaking that occurs in your youth can be more peaceful in the moment but leaves you easy prey to being taken advantage of or manipulated. Whereas full awareness of the social norms you can better keep yourself safe but every moment interacting with others is a practice of radical self acceptance which can be extremely isolating in a world where so many want to fit in. Obviously I can’t go back to blissful ignorance (nor would I want to) but this radical self acceptance of my weirdness and others perceiving it is:

A LOT

#this hit me today and I’m reeling #WHAT DO YOU MEAN I HAVE TO STOP TRYING TO CONVINCE PEOPLE IM SOMEWHAT NORMAL #its the neurodivergency #autistic things #nervous system regulation #personal rant

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seizethegrey · 1 year

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385k words and 9 months later...

The Firebug series is finally complete! Thanks to all you crazy folks who supported me, and for those of you who have yet to read it: it's a hell of a ride, and a surprisingly fast binge-read for most. Thanks in particular to my betas throughout the series: @lizandletdie @widogaspmauk @antiva-flowers thank you for enabling me.

SUMMARY: "This plan is insane, unsafe, ill-advised, and - in case I haven’t already made it abundantly clear - I’m begging for the chance to join you.” Sea piracy, highway robbery, grand larceny, assassination, espionage, and a coup. Who needs bad guys with good guys this bad? Molly, Caleb, Essek and the Nein all rotate in and out of frame in this sprawling, thoroughly upsetting and utterly ridiculous sojourn through the criminal underworld of Wildemount.

"Know this: if you almost die and you come back breathing, don't be scared if it hurts to wake up. And if it makes you cry to read a good story that you enjoy, don't be scared to keep reading."

#shadowidomauk #shadowgast #widomauk #essek thelyss #caleb widogast #lucigast #ao3 #cr fic #cr fanfic #critical role fanfic #critical role fic #mollymauk tealeaf #lucien critical role

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bmodiwrites · 1 year

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It Would Sure Do Me Good

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Rating: Explicit (E) Notes: I saw this post here & couldn't get the idea out of my head. Y'all, this thing practically wrote itself. Thanks to the OP for the idea! Word Count: ~11K Warnings: There's definitely some smut in here, but it's me writing, so that's not really a surprise. Other than that, there's not too much aside from some good old fashion zaddy kink! Summary:

Eddie never thought he'd be the kind of person randy for a word that could mean so little or so much depending on the situation. Yet, the second Steve Harrington calls himself daddy, Eddie's life is completely changed - for a while, Eddie can't decide if it's for better or for worse. Read to find out what happens when Eddie's control dwindles down each time Steve says that magical word again.

Or, 5 times Steve calls himself daddy and the 1 glorious time Eddie finally allows the word to roll off his own tongue.

There’d been several months between the incident at the hospital and the evening Eddie found himself in. The whole group was there, even Will, Jonathan, and Argyle. They were gathered around Dustin’s living room, doing nothing but being together as a unit. Since things with the Upside Down came to their conclusion, Eddie found it hard not to be surrounded by at least a couple of his makeshift family members. After he recovered and got his name cleared, Eddie opted out of everything but finishing school and finally getting away from Hawkins High. He worked hard and pushed until the silky smooth paper of his diploma was within his grasp. After burning his school shit and saying good riddance, Eddie joined Robin and Steve working at the video store. Most of the time, Eddie wasn’t seen without one of their little threesome from that point on. A lot of times, Steve and Eddie spent their evenings alone together, talking shit and happily working the late night shift. It was a slow torture that Eddie loved every second of.

Things were going well, at least well enough for Eddie to sleep through the night and forget about the burn of his crush for Steve a couple hours of the day. Though, plump lips and surprisingly strong biceps crept into his dreams more often than not, making even slumber an unsafe place for him to be. There was no escaping the yearning Eddie felt in every inch of his body. Especially not when Steve allowed the word ‘daddy’ to cross his lips.

Until that point in the hospital bed, Eddie hadn’t ever blinked an eye at the phrase. He was a young gay man that went to bars and knew enough things to be aware of the kink, though it hadn’t ever really appealed to him. Mostly twinks that liked to gravitate towards the older dudes enjoyed that sort of thing. Never in the handful of years Eddie worked out his sexuality did something like cross his mind. The weirdest part of it all was that Steve wasn’t older or bigger or even more powerful than Eddie. It wasn’t the connotation of the word but the weight in which it took on in Eddie’s body when it came out of Steve’s mouth that made it so sticky-sweet, so deliciously lust provoking. Eddie couldn’t help but wonder if Steve was some sort of Pavlovian switch for him, if anything that came out of that pretty mouth might make him feral and needy. The answers he found were too unsettling to contemplate, so he shut that train of thought down quickly. Instead, he mopped up the drool threatening to drip down his chin.

How a simple “because daddy said so, Henderson!” could turn Eddie to a bubbling pile of goo made zero sense, but he found himself there, anyway. His stomach tightened and the lofty weight of painkillers was nowhere in sight to excuse the muddled thoughts and red face. Eddie felt himself harden at a rate so embarrassing, it was hard to decipher whether the inappropriate boner or the way his mind was shattered to pieces was the worst thing happening at the moment. Despite wanting to trouble out the answer, Eddie didn’t waste any time bounding up from his seat on the couch. He fumbled out a lame excuse to all but run down the hall, out of the crowded room, away from the menace of a boy that made Eddie’s entire being go haywire.

Read the rest on AO3 here!

#steddie #stranger things #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve harrington/eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fanfic #steve x eddie #bobbie writes #it would sure do me good

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dumpyourjunk-ca · 1 month

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The Hidden Dangers Lurking in Your Junk: Health Risks and Safety Measures

Garbage gathering is a typical issue that plagues numerous families and organizations. While it might appear to be innocuous, the secret perils hiding inside your garbage can present serious well-being chances. From hazardous materials to bug invasions, the results of disregarding these issues can be extreme. Now, we'll dive into the potential well-being chances related to garbage and give down-to-earth security measures to alleviate these worries.

Potential Health Risks of Junk Accumulation

• Exposure to Hazardous Materials Your garbage heap might contain different risky materials, like old hardware, paints, synthetic compounds, and batteries. These things can deliver poisonous substances out of sight, soil, and water, representing a critical well-being chance for you and your loved ones. Drawn-out openness to these risky materials can prompt a scope of medical conditions, including respiratory issues, skin disturbance, and, surprisingly, neurological problems.

• Pest Infestations Garbage heaps can turn into a favorable place for bugs, like rodents, bugs, and, surprisingly, wild creatures. These irritations can convey infections, defile food sources, and cause primary harm to your property. Openness to their droppings or chomps can prompt serious well-being concerns, including the transmission of zoonotic infections.

• Fire Hazards Gathered garbage can be a critical fire peril, particularly in the event that it incorporates combustible materials. In case of a fire, the garbage can go about as fuel, permitting the flares to spread quickly and possibly jeopardize the security of your home or business.

Safety Measures for Junk Removal • Proper Disposal of Hazardous Materials With regards to junk removal in Los Angeles, it's fundamental to discard any dangerous materials appropriately. Distinguish and isolate things like old gadgets, paints, and synthetic substances, and explore the fitting removal strategies for your area. Consider working with an expert garbage expulsion administration that has practical experience in protecting, taking care of, and removing risky waste.

• Pest Control Measures To forestall bother invasions, completely examine your garbage heap and address any potential passage focuses or settling regions. Consider employing an expert bug control administration to evaluate what is happening and execute successful measures to kill any current vermin and forestall future pervasions.

• Fire Safety Precautions Prior to handling your junk removal in the Los Angeles project, guarantee that you have the important fire security hardware, like fire dousers and smoke alarms, promptly accessible. Try not to store combustible materials close to warm sources or start sources, and be mindful while taking care of any possibly ignitable things.

Hiring Professional Junk Removal Services

For an exhaustive and safe garbage evacuation arrangement, consider recruiting a legitimate junk removal company in Santa Monica. These experts have the skill and hardware to deal with different kinds of garbage, including risky materials, and can guarantee appropriate removal or reusing. By reevaluating the garbage expulsion process, you can altogether lessen the dangers to your well-being and the climate.

Garbage gathering is a typical issue; however, overlooking the secret perils can have serious ramifications for your well-being and security. By figuring out the expected dangers and carrying out the fitting well-being measures, you can safeguard yourself, your friends and family, and your property from the perils prowling in your garbage. Make sure to focus on the legitimate removal of unsafe materials, address bother pervasions, and consider employing proficient junk removal in Santa Monica to guarantee a protected and effective garbage evacuation process.

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sims-inmymouth · 4 months

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Delilah Five - Ep. Eight

Trigger Warnings: Severe illness (described), violence (against zombies, pictured, described), blood (pictured, described).

January 22, 20XX

Tamah is sick. Like, really sick. She can’t stop coughing (I can hear it from the kitchen!) and her fever got really high. We checked her over for bites again—absolutely none. We don’t have to worry about evil zombie Tamah, just really-sick-with-what-Hossannah-thinks-is-pneumonia-Tamah. Hossannah has tried all manner of home cures and practically tore up the house looking for medicines stronger than ibuprofen. We don’t have any. When we went to check on her earlier, she was curled up in bed and mumbling to herself. She's been sick since, shoot, I think the nineteenth? She's had a fever that whole time, but it was REALLY bad this morning. Hossannah told me that if hospitals were still operational, we'd be rushing Tamah there.

I had to go out with Hossannah to look for medicines. Specifically antibiotics. Theodora decided to stay home and look after Tamah, since she was pretty delirious when we left. She seems to be doing a little better now, but her fever spiked again. Besides, Theo is still recovering after her burns. Hossannah was worried about Theodora while we scavenged for medicine. (I think they were friends before this whole thing, because they seem really close.)

Hossannah knew of an abandoned clinic that used to have a pharmacy, so we started there. We left not even like ten minutes after we realized just how sick Tamah was. Is.

There weren't any zombies on the way to the clinic. I had my fixed up radio to listen to the storm trackers and zom alerts. The lady on the radio, she said her name was Rebekah, said that there really weren't many zombies nearby. Not to mention the massive snowstorm that was pounding New Willow Creek. The weather was only going to get worse from here, she said.

The clinic was surrounded by wild chickens and feral dogs. They looked cold, scared. I had some crackers in my pocket, so I fed them what I had. I hope they’re doing okay. If the circumstances weren’t so dire (and I knew how to spot rabies) I would’ve tried to haul some back to base.

The clinic itself was old and peeling. There were holes in the walls. The bottom-most floor, which used to have glass walls apparently, was completely blown out and supported by nothing but beams. Once we were in, we could see the outside. It was really weird.

This meant that we could see the zombies. TONS of them. Doctor zombies, nurse zombies, patient zombies. It was... hard to look at to say the least. I don't even think these people came to the hospital because they had the zombie virus. One of the zombies looked heavily pregnant (how that works, shoot, don't ask me). Another one had its leg in a cast. Another one had an arm bent all out of shape, whether that happened before or after infection is beyond me.

I didn't want to go in. My heart was racing and I thought I would throw up. Hossannah didn't look so happy either. She had a gun, a gift from her father she told me once. She shot the first zombie, a doctor, point blank in the stomach. It was the first time I've actually ever seen her shoot a zombie. Or anything, for that matter. Tamah obviously kills lots of zombies, and I've seen Theodora shoot zombies and wild birds with a single bullet. But never Hossannah. She didn't say anything while she did it. It was just how it is.

It was easier killing zombies that I haven't seen as a human first, I guess. I shot a doctor and the zombie with the mangled arm. I don't really remember much of it, honestly. I just pulled the trigger and I wasn't in danger anymore.

We had finally cleared the way to get to the pharmacy. The stairs to the second and third floors were broken and looked.. unsafe to be honest. We got really lucky that the pharmacy was on the first floor. It was surprisingly untouched! Hossannah told me on the way home that because of the high zombie concentration, most people went to raid other pharmacies instead. Safer pharmacies. Some of the medicines were expired. We grabbed whatever antibiotics we could find (little orange bottles, a green beaker lookin thing, small jars of medicine). Then, we filled our bags with any other medicine we could carry. I just ran my hand along the shelf and swiped everything into my bag. Hossannah was happy to find some burn cream for Theodora.

The way home was largely uneventful. It was really cold, and it was hard to see. The winds got really bad, and the snowstorm had turned into a blizzard. Rebekah on the radio talked about hypothermia care, which felt equally useful and insulting.

When we got home, Tamah was asleep. We took her temperature, and it was really high. Like, 103 high. We forced her to take the medicine we found. An hour later, her temperature went down by a lot. She's still coughing and weak, but Hossannah thinks she's going to be okay. I hope she's okay.

Now that things have calmed down, and I'm writing all this out, I can't really stop thinking about the zombies again. I wonder what their lives were like when they were alive. If they had stayed that way, maybe. The doctors could've cured the virus, maybe. Eh, probably not. But they'd go home and be with their families. The pregnant-lookin zombie would have her baby, the injured zombies would heal.

I wish things could've been different.

I'm going to go milk the cows. If I don't think, I can feel better.

Signed,

Ruth Givens.

#sims 4 #sims 4 screenshots #my sims #delilahfive #simblr #simlit #sims #sims 4 gameplay #sims 4 zombies #sims story

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birbycakes · 11 months

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The Lore for my draconic sorcerer BG3 MC under the cut

My high half-elf draconic sorcerer was born to a wealthy merchant family. Her dragon ancestry came as a huge surprise. Her dragon ancestor was pretty much forgotten in her family line. He was once a beloved hero, but he was removed from history due to being a red dragon. "Lest people begin to trust those who should never be trusted, it is unsafe to sing this beast's praises." (A quote from whom??? we may never know...) Anyways, she was doted on by her family and praised for her abilities. One thing she loved more than all the gold and jewels in the world, is being praised and loved for her good deeds. Not that she NEEDED praise to do good things, but they certainly helped motivate her. She often did charity work, in particular held free tutoring classes to impoverished children in Baldur's Gate to teach them how to read and write. The children adore her and she adores them. While some may raise an eyebrow at her red dragon ancestry, she's quick to prove them of her strong will to do good in the world.

She's a little feisty and sassy, and can be vain and egotistical at times, but she's also gentle, patient, and understanding, as well as kind to a fault. She will sometimes praise herself in a teasing way (like, if someone asks her how she handles teaching a large class of misbehaving street urchins, she says "Well, it's easy when you're as perfect as me~"), but not everyone understands her humor and she can come off as being more full of herself than she really is. She's actually quite shy and insecure, worried she's not living up to her parents lofty expectations. She feels as though she's destined for greatness, a pressure they put on her thanks to her powers. And the better her reputation, the better her parents business does, which only adds to it. She wants to make a name for herself as a hero of legend and make her family proud.

She is completely clueless when it comes to romantic love, as she doesn't spend a lot of time- or ANY time- dating. She'll claim she just doesn't have the time for it, but in truth she's just scared to put herself out here and be vulnerable. She's absolutely terrified of getting her heart broken. She does however read a LOT of romance novels and daydreams for hours on end of her perfect lover and all the cute little dragon-sorcerer babies they'll have. This doesn't mean she thinks herself lonely though, as she finds plenty of happiness in her friendships. She greatly cherishes her friends and she will do anything for them. As long as she has her friends, she'll be happy even if she never finds a romantic partner.

And about her red dragon ancestor! As a baby, his mother died in a battle with another female dragon over her horde. The two fought till they both perished, leaving him all alone. Eventually, he became so starving he flew to the ground to hunt. A group of elves travelling back home to their village came across the baby dragon, and taking pity on him, fed him and nursed him back to health. At first the rest of the village was extremely apprehensive about keeping the dragon around- sure it's a fairly harmless baby now, but when it grows up, surely it's evil nature will take over and it will raze the village down. Many wanted to put him down, but the one who become his adopted mother fought hard for him. He acclimated to the community surprisingly well, and as he grew older and stronger become the guardian of the village. While he was vain and egotistical, he had a good heart at his core and would do anything to protect his village and his family.

His childhood friend and eventual wife was an elven girl who was a powerful wild magic sorcerer, but was very shy and insecure about her abilities. After causing a horrible rainstorm that led to the death of some livestock, she tried to bottle up her powers. With his help, she learned how to control and harness her powers better and become more confident in herself. In turn, she helped keep him in check and humble, so his cocky nature wouldn't get the best of him. They were considered to be the perfect match, who halves of a whole. The two would go on many adventures in their adulthood, and had become legendary heroes- or at least, they would have been, had they not been erased from history.

Many many years later, a half-elf, half-human girl was born, a spark of her ancestor's powerful draconic magic radiating from within her- as well as showing quite plainly with the shimmering pinkish-red dragon scales dotted all over her body. And her birth marked the rise of her ancestor's legacy once more...

#BG3 MC #my writing

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dzpenumbra · 2 years

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10/11/22

Since it's already late... I have to set my alarm, one sec. Alright. I might as well just put today in direct bulletpoints without too much commentary.

I got a text from my landlord at 10:30 AM. About an hour after I finally fell asleep. Yep. When I'm feeling unsafe and like there's something weird brewing, I don't sleep. And full moons amplify it. I'm pretty much at a perfect storm here. So... I'm surprisingly doing well with it. I'm impressed with myself.

I woke up late. I slept well, which is good, a full 7 hours until like... 4 PM. Waking up at 4PM on a Monday is deeply depressing. I called my mom before I got out of bed. I wanted to connect with my brother and see if he wanted to do art while my landlords were inspecting the house. Then I could have music playing, it would create a privacy barrier for all of us. I could get some work done and have some good company.

I want to really lean into this statement. I had such a bad feeling about the outcome of proposing this completely normal, kinda fun sounding idea that I called my mom. I don't remember if I took a shower, I think I did actually. I think I did get out of bed and showered and called right after or something. I remember eating an apple, and yeah, my fingernails tasted like the essential oils I wear after showering when I was compulsively stress-biting them earlier.

I had this bad feeling lingering from yesterday, when i tried to get him to help me sort the place and clean a bit. My mom came over and helped, it was nice, it could've been a nice three person hangout kinda thing. But no. He told me Sunday was when he usually cleans his house, actually, so I guess his whole day was booked. I'm just... not gonna linger on that. I can see very clearly now what I saw at first glance. That's just inconsiderate. And negative. "I'm not going to do your chores, you lazy shit, I have my own chores." That kinda Scrooge mentality. I could feel it. I've felt it a LOT lately, from pretty much everyone in my life. I need help, I need to get away from these people. I'm starting to forget that people like me are still out there.

So much for limiting wandering thoughts... ugh... welcome to my brain.

I asked my mom if she could... let's call it "translate" for me. See, I've had it told pretty clearly to me recently, in therapeutic environments and in personal relationships, that I'm a very sensitive person. I talked about that at length last night. I have been told that when my emotions show up, especially difficult ones like fear, grief, panic, anger, those kinds of ones. Sith feelings. When those appear, people seem to just... not hear the words I'm saying. Like, I swear, to me it's like a movie - like the Truman Show or Twilight Zone or something, it's really surreal. It's like I could literally say "I love you" while I'm experiencing anger or fear and they just don't hear the words or sentiment under the emotion at all. They're just staring at that emotion like an infant locked in on dangling keys, or a cat staring down one of it's favorite toys. Maybe it's a primal thing, a survival thing? You see something deeply afraid or angry or in pain and you just... not even necessarily see it as prey, which I thought for some for a bit, but like... see it as a potential threat. What is more dangerous than something that fears for it's life? What's more dangerous than a hurt animal? What's more dangerous than a blindly enraged animal? And please, please, please remember - this is your daily reminder, fellow human - we are all animals.

I asked my Mom a question today during our 2 hour talk - "does my fear look really intense to you right now, like if you were in my shoes right now and feeling where I am, where would you put it out of 10?" She told me probably 8 or 9. I weighed in that I'm really around a 4 to 5, then the more I thought about it, corrected down to 3 to 4. I think that made things a little more clear. It's really hard to get across to people, but like... yes, I am feeling the same fear or pain or betrayal or anger as you. No, I'm not numb to it, clearly. I think it's very clearly obvious when I'm in a mood and that I'm experiencing it as fully as I am capable of at that moment. But my threshold is greater. Like... I tried to describe this in a journal a while ago... I have a much bigger gas tank on this. So I feel things at an amplified rate. And what I can feel is very strong, but I don't top out at 10 like they do, I go to like 30. So to them, my reactions tend to look like overreactions. Because why would I be at their 8 over someone blowing me off? Well... because their 8 isn't my 8, it's my 3. I hope I can find a simpler way to communicate that in the future, I think it's going to be a very important thing to build as a mutual understanding with whoever ends up being my partner.

So people tend to see these huge emotions and then just start shooting, or get skeptical, or suspicious, or freeze, or straight up run. You know, they panic. And my training to be able to communicate my complex feelings through my expressed emotions is for nothing. It's really goddamn hard to keep priorities through intense emotions, to keep universal good in mind, to keep control on being respectful when you're being disrespected, all that shit. You know, honorable shit, virtuous shit. We all know how hard it is to keep yourself the "better person" in an argument, especially when you're falsely accused or something.

So what I did today was I requested that my Mom advocate for me in my place. That she reach out and explain the situation to him, clearly and from a third party perspective. To explain how it's not about doing chores, its about being supportive of a family member who is going through what is essentially one of his biggest trauma triggers for the past 2-3 years, and not even having to talk him through it, just being in the room and sharing that space with him so he's not alone in that feeling. That's all. And that, if asked, he would gladly repay the favor.

My brother responded, in the message relayed back from my mom less than 3 minutes later, by accusing both of us of trying to control him and pressure him. My heart is just sinking writing this. Like... my thoughts are just draining out of my head like rain running down a window, and a fog of sadness is just rolling in. It's a quiet sadness. Like a cold Maine morning by the ocean at the crack of dawn, with the heavy, wet fog rolling in.

I think something happened. I'm guessing it's one of his old friends. My instincts keep saying this same name over and over, one of his friends that I never met, but gave my really cool Norse hammer drum key to - for some fucking reason, I really liked that thing and it was a gift to me. I think this guy fucked with him in the past, something about weed. I think my brother projected that same feeling of betrayal from that friend onto me in the past, and I think it broke our relationship. And I'm fearing it has returned.

Oh boy, this voice hasn't had a time to talk in a while. I can tell by the poetic imagery, this part of my psyche is one that got severely traumatized right after my breakup, not long after he was... reborn, I guess. This personality was shaped at this branch in the tree of my life, coming out of the loss of a relationship and several close deaths all in close proximity. Anyway...

I reassured my mom that it was okay, and that what she did was noble and... was my fault. That she felt what I feel most days. And that I am deeply sorry she carried that, and that I put her in that position. It hurt her. She felt a lot of bad things because of my request. I feel very guilty. But I need to start with this by forgiving myself. I didn't ask her to help expecting him to be like that at all. I feared, yes, but for myself. I never imagined he would project onto the messenger for the person he's projecting onto. I figured the messenger would be enough of a layer of separation for him to hear the words without immediately sniffing out my fear and feeling of betrayal through the microphone and prepping the mounted 50cal machineguns for "anticipatory defense". I forgive myself for this. My intentions were peace.

At this point... It's almost 9PM. I ironed out plans with my mom. She is going to come over and chill, I guess we're going to go through the floorplan of the apartment and figure out layout and storage and stuff. That actually should be really fun. Man, I should just make a 3D model of it in Blender or something, just fuck around with it that way. That'd be really cool. Technology these days, so sick!

Then I texted my landlord. Almost 12 hours after she asked me to set up a time. I apologized - I swear, I apologize almost every interaction I have nowadays... - and set a meetup at 4:30 tomorrow afternoon. They should only be around for a little bit, they said they have a Zoom at 5 or something. My mom is going to come over at 4. I have an alarm set for 2. It's 6:45 now. So... it takes usually around half an hour to an hour for me to fall asleep after this, so... like 6.5 to 7 hours sleep? Not horrible.

I wrote a letter to my brother. I wrote like 4, honestly. But the last one was... a better approach than the others. I mean that. I wrote a lot of "you can NOT blah blah". Just... accusatory and corrective. Pointing out exactly what he's doing wrong and just pleading he stop doing it. I got rid of all of it. Little by little. I don't disagree with my way of addressing it, and in person or over the phone, I would absolutely say those statements. But after typing through it, I listened to it back on text to speech... then cut out parts I didn't like or I felt were... unnecessarily emotionally pushy, I guess. I know he's sensitive to emotions and doesn't really know how to process them a lot of the time. By the end... naw, I'm gonna backtrack again. I got what I thought was a good draft. I looked up quotes on forgiveness and humility to pass along. I have a strong connection in my creative centers between humility and forgiveness, but I guess I never really sat down and tried to flesh it out very well, to articulate it. Like... forgiveness requires humility, but it also only works if the person being forgiven is humble too, you know? So humility is super important there, crucial, really. And I really was trying to communicate at the end of this that I was okay with forgiving this outburst thing, there's still time to work that out, but he really needs to apologize to my Mom.

While looking for quotes, I found a list of Bible quotes. I read through all of them. I love trying to decode the imagery of the quotes. I did this project a few years ago where I tried to translate Genesis into common speech, like... everyday talk. Like how I talk, into my language. I started looking at sentences, language structure, etc... in the way that I think... as images. Like apple conjures an image in your head. Instead of doing an example here, basically the analogy I was using at the time, what I was trying to recreate, was someone standing by a campfire, gesturing wildly, visually and telling a story using as few words as possible. OMG, like C3PO in Return of the Jedi telling Luke's story to the Ewoks. Nootch Vader. That scene. I started thinking of language like THAT. Like I was trying to tell this story to people who barely understood English. And when I read Bible quotes with that in mind, trying to really suss out the concept behind all these words and stitch together a little mental animation, things started making more sense to me.

A lot of the quotes were about forgiving your kin over and over and over. No matter what. Which is just... damn is it the hardest thing to figure out, honestly. Because at some points, it's abusive... and at some points it can become like a Stockholm Syndrome thing... and yeah, it's like... I don't know, I guess forgiving doesn't mean like... pretend it didn't happen. So yeah, maybe I just need to explore forgiveness more. But reading the humility and forgiveness stuff helped a lot, and it just reminded me that it's not really my job to tell him he fucked up. Or set the terms for him to repent to me or some shit. It's my job to tell my side of the story. Which I detailed clearly. And I got rid of most of the rest. Except for the part where I told him he should apologize for being harsh to my mom. I actually, very transparently self aware, leaned into that. I expressed that I knew it was harsh to say he needs to say he's sorry, but that she has been going through enough and didn't deserve it. He doesn't have to apologize to me for this, but he really should apologize to her. I risked confirming his fear of control by saying that, but if he's looking for excuses to deep six his relationship with his brother... he'll find one eventually. I can't let that blood be on my hands. She stood up for me, the least I can do is stand up for her.

So... I'm upset. I'm... kinda grieving again. It hit me hard. But I ordered some fabric pens, so I'm gonna just try to put some custom designs on one of my hoodies and see how it comes out. Inspiration comes from destruction. It's not the only place it comes from, but god am I glad it comes from destruction. Because if it didn't, destruction would be unbearable.

#diary #journal #stream of thoughts #spilled thoughts #online journal #stream of consciousness

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greysdisk · 2 years

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