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dustyrkives · 4 months

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Satisfied with your care // A. Wong.

I know I might misinterpret things because I'm new to the fandom, but please, hear me out on this one🫣

Notes: Physician reader, hierarchy of doctors, !njuries, age-gap between the reader and Ada (7 years), female reader, Ada finding you amusing and interesting, size difference (my jaw dropped when I found out she's 5'7), Ada might develop an obsession for you and your notes but I think it's cute - *train passes by*. That's pretty much it, I think.

Not proofread, sorry :D

And feedback is appreciated <3

Thinking about Ada visiting the organization's medcenter to tend to her serious injuries before she either takes her leave or prepares for another mission.

That's when she set her eyes on you, the young mentee of her organization's physician.

At first, she finds you insignificant, always by your mentor's beck and call, standing behind the scenes while the doctor tends to her wounds before dismissing her with painkillers and reminders for her to change her bandages to avoid irritation and infection until several months later after returning from another mission, and it just so happens that the attending physician is busy with the other injured agents - which leaves her with you: a Fellow.

Ada kept a sharp eye on you while you tend to her injuries. Nothing serious - just a few cuts, bruises and some broken bones, ribs and fractures. But Ada's too tired to tend them herself so she leaves that job to you. You examine her injuries, surprised that she doesn't show any signs of pain in her cold, sharp countenance - countless missions must've hardened her edges, you thought.

"Are you just going to stare at me all day?" Her cutting tone snaps you out of your train of thought.

Embarrassed, a practiced smile plays on your lips, "My apologies," and began tending to her wounds.

The first thing Ada notices is the way you touched her: soft, gentle. Then again, so is any other physician while they treat their patients. But what makes yours...different?

Perhaps she was touch-starved.

You graciously ignored Ada's gaze as you tend to her injuries, something she finds interesting considering her gaze was enough to make some...targets fumble, but not you. But oh, she thought wrong. Ada saw the way your well-manicured hands twitch at her proximity - you were tending to the gash on the side of her waist. You were close enough to smell her scent: woody, warm spicy, vanilla...cherries.

The older woman's lips curl to a ghost of a smirk as she witnessed how you momentarily froze before tending to her wound before calmly leaning away from her and smiling rather nervously at the Asian woman before giving Ada her doctor's note and sending her off. Ada just stood there, outside the door as she looks at your note. Nothing significant, just some painkillers, antibiotics, reminders to change her bandages and, oh? A medical certificate for her injuries and a note acknowledging the state of her injuries. Contrary to your mentor, he would just tend to her wounds and give her some aspirin and send her off. Her lips curl upward. Interesting, Ada would thought before keeping your note.

Ada then discovers that she finds you amusing. Which also leads her to another discovery about herself: that she's a creature of habit, and that visiting the medcenter will be the first thing she does after returning from her missions. And so she did, every after her missions, you'd notice that she would prefer you over the attending physician. You find it flattering because it means one thing: she trusts you with her wounds. The Asian woman would always come back with her wounds slightly detrimental than the last - but no worries, you're capable of treating them. While you find it concerning, Ada sees it as a valid reason to feel the pads of your fingers against her skin.

And she loves it.

She loves the way you'd wipe the blood on her face and body away like a demented blush, or the way your fingers would delicately examine her bruises to the point that she finds herself fantasizing how your lips would feel all over her scars and bruises instead of your fingers. Every touch from you would figuratively bring the older woman to her knees; Ada has to admit, you have that kind of power over her.

You on the other hand, well, developed a certain liking for the older woman. Calm, verbally well-articulated and devastatingly gorgeous - you have no doubt that anyone who comes across her would be intrigued. But as a professional and an aspiring attendee, you had to bury that attraction, and you thought it was simple.

You were wrong, utterly wrong.

With every visit from Ada, there would be hushed greetings, piercing stares, low praises from her - it makes your spine tingle with glee and bliss.

"You'd get wrinkles if you do that." The older woman mused as she sits on the edge of the examining table. You shoot her a pointed look - you were comfortable to show your displeasure when it comes to her serious injuries. "How could I not when you look like 'that'?" You counter as you gesture at her state. The latter raises a brow as she looks down at herself. Her shirt is soaked with blood, she swore she had just changed before coming to see you but the blood from her poorly bandaged shoulder wound seeped into the fabric of the material, not to mention her small cuts and bruises. She quirked a brow, "You do realize that you treated far more serious injuries from me?"

"Yes, but-" You stop yourself before inhaling slowly to better articulate your words. "It's concerning-"

"Are you worried?"

A pause, "Of course," You sigh quietly before approaching her. "Are you able to remove your shirt?"

The latter raise a brow and you flushed. "I need to examine the wound-"

"Easy, pretty girl," She grins and the red on your cheeks darkened. "And I can't," She palms the bloody bandage. "I think I need new bandages and maybe some muscle tape."

You can't help but return her grin, "Stitches, probably."

The latter nods as you prepare the surgical scissors and begin cutting through her shirt. While doing so, Ada watches you intently as the cloth loosens, and cuts in half, revealing her scarred, lithe torso. You inhale slowly before gently removing the soaked cloth and tending to her injury.

"At this point, I think you allow yourself to get hurt." You stammered as you patched her up in a quick yet efficient fashion, "Well, I mean - I'm not saying it to undermine your capabilities as an asset or anything - what I'm saying is-" Ada merely chuckles when you're done. "I mean," The former slowly stands up. "Ada," You warned, "You shouldn't-" But the Asian doesn't listen as she gracefully steps toward you, you did the opposite.

"You really shouldn't," Your words die in your throat as her figure towers over you. Damn, was Ada this tall before? How come you didn't notice?

Reality sets in when your back presses against the counter. "Ada, your injuries-" Your pleas fall on deaf ears as the older woman traps you against the counter - she didn't even cage you in yet before she takes another step closer to you - uncomfortably close that she can take your fleeting scent: comforting, with the right amount of sweet, and mingling notes of Jasmine.

Ada's eyes dilated.

"For the last time, Ada," The former was brought back to her senses when your hand pressed against the base of her neck, your fingers are pressed against the muscle between her neck, and right collarbone. "Sit down, please - do you feel anything at all?"

The older woman slowly blinks before finally, trapping you with her arms blocking your sides as she looks down at you through her lashes.

You feel her pulse quicken beneath her cool, pale skin.

"I do now," Ada whispers.

#ada wong x reader #resident evil x reader #ada wong #rambling because my brain is full of Ada #This one's kind of messy but bear with me pls #resident evil #re4 remake #re4 ada

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abibliophobiaa · 1 year

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Gone Fishing: And Baby Makes Three…

this was originally a request from my dear friend Katie (but tumblr ate it, so it no longer exists) and it spiraled into a short little mini series (tagged on my masterlist). just sweet little blurbs when i get a request or the mood strikes.

original prompt: eddie tells wayne he’s going to be a grandpa.

warnings/tags: r is pregnant; mentions of pregnancy and related symptoms; dad!eddie munson x afab!fem!reader. (2k words)

Eddie had come home from work one day and found you sitting in the kitchen with Steve and Nancy’s newest little one. A wrinkly faced newborn with Steve’s dark head of hair and Nancy’s eyes. And when Steve had handed that baby to Eddie, your eyes had softened in a way he’d never seen before.

He supposed it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when later that night you'd asked him if he wanted to try for one of your own. And it wasn’t like he’d been opposed to the idea—he’d married you with the intention of starting a family some day.

In all honesty, the trying to get pregnant part…well, that had been fun. He’d just anticipated a little bit of time between deciding to start trying and getting pregnant. But two months later, you’d come home from the doctor with a photo in hand of his affectionately named “little gummy bear.”

It hadn’t looked like much at the time. A tiny little blob with wriggly limbs, if he was being honest with himself. But you’d cried when you held the grainy picture in front of him, and he’d cried too, holding you on his lap at the kitchen table.

Soon enough, another month passed and you were far enough along you felt comfortable enough to tell those around you your exciting news. Naturally, you suggested the two of you tell Wayne first. It felt right to do so, you told him, and he’d agreed.

You were glowing and beautiful, like Nancy had mentioned people said happened during pregnancy one day over dinner, but not your fullest self. Most mornings Eddie felt the bed dip as the sun rose in the sky, and joined you with a hand to comfort in any way possible when you rushed to the bathroom. Whether it was a warm palm sliding up and down your back or the chill of his skin on your clammy cheek, he’d wanted to be there in whatever capacity you’d allow. He’d carry your struggles on his back if he was able to. You were doing all the work, after all. And he was grateful for it—grateful for you.

The evening you were meant to tell Wayne over dinner, you’d been sick since the morning—all day, really, and it pained him to see you like that. He watched you washing dishes in the kitchen while Wayne settled down in the living room with a freshly opened beer, feeling his heart double in size when your eyes lifted and met his.

You’d always been beautiful, but there was something different about you lately. Nancy said that the “glow” people often spoke of was from the endless hormones raging through your body. Some of which he’d become well-acquainted with these few weeks, because they made your emotions vary between happy and sad in a split second—often to his own detriment.

But he really thought they’d gotten it all wrong; he thought that the glow came from the way you were so in love, it manifested on the outside with no more space to contain itself. And if it made him pathetic to admit how in love with you he was, especially so as of late, he’d happily own up to it.

“Are you feeling okay?” He asked, moving over to where you stood with your hips flush against the countertop, your head bent a little low as you scrubbed idly at a dirty plate. His fingers curled along the side of your cheek, turning your face so your eyes would meet his. His thumb tapped at your chin, your lips tugging upward weakly. “There you are. Why don’t you go lay down, hmm? I’ll take care of the rest of the dishes.”

“Eddie.” You placed the dish down in a drying rack and huffed out a slow breath.

“You were up at three in the morning—” He chuckled when you opened your mouth to protest and nudged your cheek with his nose, brushing a kiss there. “I’ll take care of it.”

“I still want you to tell Wayne. I think it’ll be nice for you two to share that memory,” you admitted softly, leaning into his shoulder, one arm wrapping loosely around his waist.

“Have I told you lately how much I love you?”

You wrinkled your nose, grinning. “Only every day.”

He dropped his ringed fingers down to your sweater, sliding over your midsection, seeking the comfort of your warmth. You sighed against his neck, head tucking against his throat, and he murmured, “Please let me take care of the kitchen? I’ll feel ten times better if you go get some rest.”

It took a little bit more convincing, and a brush of lips against your brow with a muttered reassurance he’d take care of everything, before you retreated to your bedroom and closed the door behind you. Eddie worked in quick silence to finish up where you’d left off, calling over his shoulder to his Uncle that he’d just be a minute.

His Uncle leans back with a great sigh, hand waving unhurriedly in the air. “No rush, boy.”

And once he’d finished scrubbing the remnants of dinner off the final plate to tuck it away in the drying rack, he flounced over to the kitchen table where you’d wrapped a gift for his Uncle. He double checked the little card tucked in between sheets of tissue paper, pushed it to the front of the bag, and snatched the handles in his hand.

A crooked, lopsided smile crosses Wayne’s face that matches the one Eddie wore, eyes widening in curiosity at the gift dangling in his nephew’s hand. “It’s not my birthday, y’know,” he said, placing his beer down on the coffee table. Eddie leaned back on the couch beside him, nerves bubbling to life at what lay within. Wayne’s smile dropped, concern lining his features as he asked, “Is the little missy not feelin’ okay?”

Eddie sighed heavily. “Yeah, she’d been up this morning sick. I told her to go lay down,” he admitted, thumbing at his ring finger, twirling the yellow gold wedding band around and around in his nervousness. “Open the card first.”

“What are you doin’? More jittery than normal,” he chided, but slid his finger beneath the edge of the envelope all the same, opening the lip to reveal a Hallmark card. On the front was a golden trophy, with a banner stretched across reading ‘The World’s Greatest Pop Pop.’ His head turned to Eddie, the creases around his mouth deepening as he swallowed thickly and opened the card. The older man rubbed a hand over his mouth, throat clearing as his eyes reread the words on the card over and over again. “My boy. Are you tellin’ me I’m gonna be a grandpa? The Mrs. Munson is havin’ a baby?” At Eddie’s slow nod, Wayne barked out a disbelieving but excited laugh, pulling his nephew into a rough hug.

Eddie swallowed the knot forming in his throat. Exhaled deeply to keep the tears at bay. He’d been doing that a lot since finding out you were expecting; blubbered when you told him you were pregnant, then once more when he’d accompanied you for the next doctor’s appointment and saw the little thing for himself, and then once more when he’d heard the heartbeat for the first time.

“Finish opening your gift before you start getting all sappy and shit,” he teased, choking on his own emotions. Wayne slid out the grainy photo from the last ultrasound, thumb running along the tiny outline of the little one. Eddie grinned, leaning over to trail a finger along the form. “That’s from an earlier appointment. I can show you what they look like now. Less…alien-gummy bear hybrid, more…actual baby. With fingernails, the doctor said. Thought that was pretty cool.”

Wayne huffed out a watery laugh and fished out the pieces of tissue paper within the package. His mouth worked silently over the emotions riling in his gut as he lifted a hat within his palm and glanced at the words etched across the front. There at the top, was a fish with a reel swirling around in a loop, poised at its opened mouth. Then, in blocky lettering below, read ‘Reel Cool Pop Pop.’

When Wayne leaned back, his teary eyes scanned Eddie’s face, frown setting further into the wrinkle lines crowding his lips. “What’s wrong, boy? I can tell somethin’ is goin’ ‘round in that head of yours.” He knocked his weathered knuckles lightly against Eddie’s temple; Eddie nudged his head away, lips quirking with a smile despite himself. “C’mon now. Your brow’s wrinklin’ like your momma’s did when she used to worry.”

“I’m happy. Shit– I’m so excited, but I…” He paused, pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes. “I’m, ah, in a few months I’m gonna be a dad and I don’t know why, but the universe thinks I’m ready for that.”

“Listen, I know what you’re thinkin’. But I’m gonna tell you right now that you are not your old man. You’re a good man, Ed. Gave me hell for a few years, but I know you’re ready,” he said, lowering his head to where Eddie’s palms slid down his face, an exhausted sigh falling through the gaps between his fingers. “Got a good head on your shoulders and a big heart. Been a good husband to your wife, and I know you’ll make a fine dad. I’m proud of you. So very proud of you, son.”

Later that evening, when Eddie entered your shared bedroom with joy in his heart and excitement bubbling in his blood, you shifted up onto your elbow. You peered over at him with a wide grin across your pretty features. Asked, “What’s making you smile like that?”

Eddie’s grin widened, hand splaying over his heart like a love struck fool as he practically threw himself onto the bed, singing, “You're havin' my baby what a lovely way of sayin' how much you love me.”

The sleeves of your too-long sweater covered your face, body rolling away from him, mortified. “Edddds, no. Please no Paul Anka song again.”

His nose pressed into your cheek as his chin hooked over your shoulder. Lips smacked a loud kiss against your cheek, an amused chuckle spilling from his lips. “What? I’m a man madly in love with his wife. What’s wrong with that?”

Nothing. Nothing at all, so you shifted closer to him, back aligning with his chest as his arms wound tight around your waist. You let out a contented hum as his palm drifted along the waistband of your jeans and beneath the hem of your sweater, lingering over the secret growing beneath your heart. “I love you, too,” you whispered, hand affectionately grazing over the back of his. “Was Wayne happy?”

“Over the moon. Said he thinks it’s a boy.”

And seven months later, he’d be right.

Wayne entered that hospital with balloons in one hand and a teddy bear in another. His weathered face drew tight as he ducked into the room you’d been moved into to rest and recover, hand waving in greeting to where Eddie sat at your bedside with his newborn son cradled in the crook of his elbow. An infant boy with dark hair like his and the eyes of the woman he loved. Eddie leaned down to press a kiss to your temple, pride at what you’d done to bring your son into the world still glowing bright in his chest, and waved his uncle over. Watched as Wayne placed the gifts down onto the small couch pressed against the corner wall and drifted nearer to your bedside.

Eddie’s lips quirked into a bright smile as his uncle glanced down at the little blue bundle in his arms, before glancing up. “Congratulations, you two.”

Eddie glanced your way briefly to capture your glowing smile—to take in the way your eyes had never once left your son’s since his arrival on this side of earth, and then lifted to his uncle’s, your voice tired as you asked, “Wanna hold your grandson?”

“Yeah,” he said hoarsely, breaking off to clear his throat and inhale deeply. Eddie swapped places, climbing up from the makeshift rocking chair to allow Wayne to sit, before he leaned down and brushed a kiss against the baby’s head. Once his uncle situated himself, Eddie lowered the infant into his arms. “What did you two end up namin’ him?”

Your eyes flickered briefly to Eddie’s, head bobbing with a nod. Eddie brushed his thumb along his son’s cheek and said proudly, “James Aragorn Munson.”

James shifted in his grandfather’s arms. His head moved to seek out the shelter of his warmth—to seek out the love he’d already known in his short span of time in the outside world.

“Welcome, James.” Wayne moved his rough palm to the back of the baby’s head and shifted him on his lap so he lay stretched out before him. The older man admired those tired eyes that blearily gazed up at him with a tenderness that knocked the wind out of Eddie. James’ mouth opened in a little grunt, eyes closing once more in contentment, unknowing that he’d already stolen the hearts of the three watching him with rapt attention. “I’m your Pop Pop. We’ve been waitin’ for you.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x afab!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurbs #eddie munson blurb #dad!eddie munson x you #dad!eddie munson x mom!reader #dad!eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader

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littlenightmares2 · 19 days

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What do you think is the meaning behind Mono turning into the Thin man at the end? Do you think that’s an example of his character repeating the cycle of abuse which was imposed onto him?

thank you for asking! i love dissecting the story of little nightmares and the characters so much, so i foresee myself rambling a lot in this answer. here we go.

the long and short of it is, i think that the pale city was always awaiting mono's arrival.

we can see in the scene where mono and six are first travelling to the pale city that upon their approach, the buildings immediately begin to bend and warp towards them. the city already seemed to recognise mono's latent powers in this moment as it responded to his presence- that, or his fate had already been decided by the nowhere. the city demanded a broadcaster.

my (current, and constantly subject to change!) interpretation of events is that six accompanying mono impeded what the nowhere had already predestined him to.

he's described throughout promotional materials as "an uncommonly single-minded child." this phrase has always fascinated me. we get so few solid details about the children's mindsets and motivations in this world so it's difficult not to fixate on that simple string of information. yet despite him having this singular, unshakeable motivation to move towards the pale city and find the source of the transmission, the signal tower, he still allowed himself to be waylaid. he stopped to free six.

the pale city exists because the need for escapism exists. therefore, the broadcaster that would oversee the signal tower and send out the transmission across the city would have to be a figure that was sunken deeply into escapism, too. somebody who needed a distraction. somebody who had been through such immense pain, such betrayal, that they would do anything to put it to the back of their mind. somebody who needed the false comfort that escapism and denial of reality provides.

when asked if mono ever thought about lashing out against the tower, using his powers to level the city, or generally defying what had happened to him, the little nightmares twitter responded: "of course not. like all sensible children, he eventually came around to our way of thinking." they also stipulated that mono's idea of escapism would be, "revenge, maybe? a second chance?"

i believe that the looping events of little nightmares ii are caused by mono's own desire for either revenge or a second chance. he conceded to the tower's will because escapism was offered to him when he so desperately wanted it.

he is the thin man, cast into the depths of the flesh walls, but in his mind, he's mono again, back at the start of everything in the forest. the loop that persistently plays out is a recreation of events that allows mono to engage in the escapism of being at six's side again after everything that happened forever. he can't change what happened. but he can enjoy second chance after second chance, being her friend again before everything went wrong- the thing he so desperately craves.

the thin man takes his revenge in chasing her and stealing her away. keeping her prisoner in the signal tower, in pain just as he is and will continue to be forevermore. even if he goes on to free her after the fact. i don't think mono exactly 'remembers' how everything happens when he lapses into these bouts of escapism with the loops playing out over and over. it wouldn't be true escapism if he was aware of how painfully everything was going to end. everything feels new for mono, but as the thin man, he remembers and guides others into the false lull of security that turning away from reality offers.

six was a perfect instrument to use against mono. even though she was initially detrimental to the tower's goal of drawing mono in, she later became an essential part of it.. she was a catalyst of trauma and the tower maliciously aligned events when it warped her into a monster, setting everything up to transpire in such a way that she would abandon him. when mono shattered six's music box, he denied her the escapism it provided. the comfort and denial of her painful reality was snatched away. this goes to show exactly how intoxicating the tower and it's transmission are, and how manipulated events between the two children were. the end goal was always for mono to think he was saving six, while she wholeheartedly believed he was hurting her and ruining her happiness. that he was unsafe to be around.

#little nightmares #little nightmares 2 #ln2 #mono ln #six ln #lee talks #lee answers

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muzzleroars · 1 year

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Well shit your Fallen Angel Gabe art has me Intrigued. Damn. Also what's up with the golden cracks on his chest? Is that where the light was ripped from him, or something more ominous? :O

FALLEN GABRIEL MY BELOVED....here's some definitive thoughts on him that i largely came up with while designing him (it's long it's long im,,,,so sorry)!!

originally with that last piece, i just wanted to design a winter-themed take on gabriel's outfit but it quickly turned into developing on his new life as a fallen angel and how he might appear. gabriel's major sin, as it might be conceptualized in dante's divine comedy, would be treachery itself - the lowest layer of hell is judecca, representative of those who betray their lords and benefactors. however, i view him as a fallen angel rather than a complete demon, and so he is still granted a small amount of grace even after his sin. this is shown in the warmth his new clothing provides, insulating him from the dire freeze of treachery where he would be condemned and where he may wander the wastes freely unlike the sinners trapped there in ice. like i mentioned in a previous ask, gabriel sees the additions as a mockery of his old form however, the fur-lined armor and cape normally evoking images of the noble, but here they are entirely functional, animal-like and stripped of their more elegant connotations. his clothes also continue to be adorned with crosses, likely as a symbol of attempted forced repentance and what he has lost rather than a banner he carries.

physically, he has changed as well - the massive scarring on his chest is representative of his secondary sin, lust. again in the divine comedy, lust is viewed as wrongful love, love that is somehow detrimental but is consensual (if i recall correctly,,,,it's been a couple years since i read the comedy lol). gabriel's motivations and his actions are reduced here, his epiphany and his reasons for carrying out his treachery are complex, but he is struck in the chest and partially shattered with his betrayal blamed solely on his lust for v1. i kind of thought about it in terms of a REAL early gabe piece i did, that he had nails driven into his heart, but also with the idea of his body sort of "burning out" to resemble the embers of consumed wood. ALL this to say that his skin is brittle here, broken apart and easily damaged, so that he may feel sharp, nail-like pain in his heart whenever he's struck in the chest (the irony of his crimes against the people of lust and this punishment are not lost on him either).

i've talked about his wings a couple times too, BUT i've got a few more points on them - to reiterate what i said in the tags, his wings and halo are now a stark white that reflects no emotion (although....if i can be sappy for a sec...i think very pale flickers of his ecstasy colors can eventually light through them....OK!!!) while the verses that once lined them have turned to a blank black. i thought a lot about the colors tbh, but landed on black and white for both how sterile they feel and how pure white reflects the landscape of treachery while black represents the total absence of god's light in that circle (appropriate for literally blacking out gabriel's old verses). the crown of his halo is now heavy on his head and his wings are unbearable, so he often puts both of them away as it dulls the pain they cause. he can't indefinitely keep them in, so he allows them out when he can rest and where they might not be disturbed. he hates to feel them though, hates to see them for some time, how soulless they both are and, in the case of wings, how quickly they grow tattered when they're uncared for.

finally, he has lost his name - "gabriel" can no longer exist, not being a separate entity from god. however, he is not a demon either and so has no infernal name, instead left without his identity. it reflects the void now in himself, the hollow body as an abyss emptied of what has sustained him his entire existence. in so many ways, he feels now much more like the husks of hell, reborn into a body to reflect his sin. IF i can go on a bit of a tangent, i really like the idea of his resurrection taking place in the tomb of saint gabriel, where v1 has to fight him one last time...he can no longer fly or teleport, instead just incredibly brutal and absolutely not letting v1 get any air time bc it pisses him off lol the fight is largely to calm him down and he leaves with v1 after recollecting himself, but he very pointedly refuses to discuss anything about the tomb itself. he does tell v1 quite quickly that he's no longer gabriel, that he can have no ties to that identity, but it's hardly fazed by the news - from the beginning v1's thought that name messed a lot with his head and so has been calling him "gabe" or "gabi" basically since the moment they stopped being strictly enemies. like. it could recognize how important it was to him to be gabriel, but it wanted him to be himself too, so this was its compromise. gabriel was never super keen on it, but after his fall he's extraordinarily grateful he wasn't simply "gabriel" until the bitter end. it sort gives him an anchor identity while he figures out the rest...and begins to sort through the millennia of his previous existence

#i said i was gonna make a post but. i just dumped it all here instead!!!#i've been vaguely thinking about him for awhile now.....#but starting to draw ideas for treachery made me lose it!!#OH AND...his palette was heavily inspired by one of the concept arts ofc!!#specifically 13 on the sheet bc i knew i wanted white involved #OK i think that's all for now ty for listening to all this aaaa #cake answers #gabriel #rise and fall au

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cr-noble-writes · 7 months

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WIP Wednesday

Because my brain has no compassion for the amount of work it makes me do, I've started a Regency AU for Alex and Kaidan. And because I am not particularly skilled at romance as the main plot, I've decided it's a supernatural mystery sort of thing. Anyway, have a verbal sparring match between Alex and Councilor Tevos, in which I think? Alex wins lol

tagging @ltleflrt @imbiowaresbitch @nickelkeep @ad-astra13 @bioticbooty @otemporanerys and anyone else who wants to do the thing, no pressure of course <3

Garrus winces. It has been some time since he heard someone speak that way to the Council. It was Shepard last time, as well. The man has never been particularly patient with those who wield people like tools, and Garrus cannot say he disagrees. Councilors Sparatus and Udina glare at Shepard, but otherwise do not react to the flagrant insult. Tevos smiles. “I will not dally with your time or ours, Commander. An Alliance unit led by Admiral Kahoku has vanished. We believe you are particularly well-suited to the task of locating the Admiral.” “That cannot be the full extent of your reason for summoning me.” His face is pinched. Knowing he was coming, the Council ought to have provided somewhere for him to sit while they spoke to him. It’s tempting to consider the idea that it’s some sort of power play, but it’s more likely they simply did not give it any thought at all. Shepard, of course, won’t ask no matter how much pain he’s in. Stubborn to the point of being a detriment to himself, and he always has been. “You have the right of it. Admiral Kahoku and his men were investigating Cerberus when he disappeared." Garrus would have thought Shepard’s grip on his cane couldn't get any tighter, and he'd have been wrong. His knuckles, already impossibly pale, look like bone might burst through skin at any moment from the sheer force of it. Garrus knew the Council had been looking into the admiral's disappearance. That Cerberus may be involved is entirely new information. It does explain why they wanted Shepard. "And you believe I am particularly knowledgeable about Cerberus." It's really a wonder how even Shepard’s tone is. In his shoes, Garrus would not be capable of that level of control. In fact, it's for the best that the Councilors are so focused on Shepard, because if they looked his way, they would surely see the anger written across his face. Tevos nods. “Given your past encounters with The Illusive Man, there is no one better qualified.” “So that we are all perfectly clear,” Shepard starts, somehow managing to maintain an air of politeness. “You believe a man who is no longer able to use arcana without threat of death, who cannot stand for any extended period of time, who, in fact, cannot do something so basic as writing without trouble, is more suited for this than all of your Spectres, who you carefully chose from the most capable and competent of your membership?” Even the nearly imperceptible clenching of Councilor Tevos’ jaw is an accomplishment to be proud of, but Shepard had always been skilled at finding and exploiting weaknesses. Garrus barely stops himself from smiling. It’s been too long since he’s heard Shepard give someone a proper dressing down. Truly, he’s glad that, for once, it’s not directed his way. “The Council is aware of your condition, Commander. Our Spectres simply don’t have the same level of… experience with the inner workings of that organization that you do,” Tevos says coolly. Garrus feels his hands curl into fists at his sides. Shepard’s jaw tightens, but to Garrus’ confusion, one corner of his mouth turns up into something that could be the beginning of a smile. “You will not be working alone, of course. You’ll be assisted by the Council agent we assign as a handler.”

#mass effect #regency au #commander shepard #garrus vakarian #councilor tevos #wip #wip wednesday #snippet #cr noble writes

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zeta-in-de-walls · 1 year

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I know you dislike the lore finale, and you dislike dream but he did say in his space that cdream is a horrible person and that ctommy wasnt forgiving cdream for any of the torment so that clears up the lore a bit. Furthermore, Tommy said that he and dream and punz and tubbo went through hours of lore making sure it would make sense so they were aware of what the others would say.

Aaah cheers I guess. Though, if you think my main issue with the finale was Tommy 'forgiving' Dream, then you are mistaken. ccDreams answer only covered that absolute extreme of Tommy forgiving Dream entirely, not anything else.

It's everything about how Dream was depicted. How his motives were supposedly deep down about his friends and that Tommy ruined it by joining and causing trouble. How Tommy is made to emphasise with Dream's pain and that's how he get through. How Dream asks if it's too late and you can see Tommy feel bad that they cant give Dream his second chance. How it actually ends with them becoming friends again in a new world. How the whole stream is about Dream and about humanising Dream and Tommy's pain takes a backseat. Tommy's anger is even implied to be irrational and he needs to learn to let go of it. The right approach is giving Dream a second chance and apologising for the hurt Tommy caused him. (And yes he absolutely did say he was wrong for his initial actions on the server in respect to Dream.) It feeds into this narrative of Tommy being the source of conflict on the server which rings false to me.

(There are other issues too ofc, like the whole dying thing and how Tommy, a character with suicidal thoughts makes a plan that involves killing himself and this is never challenged but we're focussing on Dream.)

So yeah, cheers for explaining what Dream said regarding the lore. I was aware of it already in this case. And yeah, the thing is that its not saying much to say that cDreams still an awful person when the stream made every effort to sympathise with him and his perspective to the detriment of others. Their intention might've not been to excuse Dream but their intentions seem to have been to understand and sympathise with him.

All that said, please don't feel obliged to defend enjoying it. You are perfectly free to enjoy the streams as you wish. I can explain my reasons for disliking it but they're just my feelings.

#replies #meta #analysis #cheers for the ask!#sorry for the ramble - i know you were trying to provide extra context and i do appreciate that #dsmp crit

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the-heaminator · 2 years

Text

Ivan, Arthur, and ludwig have gay panic, Alfred sleeps.

1762 words, part of this fic

With a chuckle so awkward it physically pained Ludwig to hear, Arthur "Raised half the world and fucked more of it" Kirkland was awkward around him, of all people.

Something about the world's greatest hoe (Copyright France) being so awkward because he was sleeping with another man was incredibly funny to Ludwig, though he shouldn't be laughing, nor complaining, he could have gotten stuck with somebody much worse, for example, France.

While Ludwig contemplated by the door, hanging there awkwardly, Arthur rushed forward and placed his stuff down on what was apparently his side of the room.

Ah, so he picked the left side, the one by the window which left Ludwig with the right side of the room, closer to the bathroom. Some treacherous part of him thought, privately, that maybe they wouldn't have to be on separate sides of the bed...

Pls stop being like this brain

Why

BecauseI'm your brain dumbass I am you.

Right.

"Are you going to stand there like a lemon, or get a move on?"

Snapping Ludwig out of his mental argument against himself, he realised that he was still standing in the doorway, most likely looking very stupid while doing so.

"Sorry England."

Better to remain formal, ways better to remain formal in times like this where just a small slip up would most likely cause such large amounts of misunderstandings that it would be almost impossible to untangle.

Not like that would happen, surely not.

"It better not, I would not wish for some bastard like France to get the wrong idea."

Vaguely concerned but more intrigued "How could he manage to get the wrong idea from me standing in the doorway."

A laugh, not venomous or bitter, but fond came from inside the room "It's Francis, he can pull anything out of that well-sculpted ass."

Unfortunately, his mind had made up its mind that it would be as purposefully annoying and homosexual as possible and his mind very quickly got filled with images of Francis and his indeed well-sculpted ass.

"I would rather not think about that, but if I may ask, how are you and France on first name terms?"

He really did sound childish, but from what he had seen and by what everyone else had told him, England and France fought worse than cats and dogs, and it was a little hard to imagine them on first name terms.

Arthur smiled softly, recalling a memory from long ago, most likely much longer than Ludwig had been alive.

"It would be hard not to be on first name terms with a fucker who raised you for two hundred odd years, would it now?"

Germany did not know about this little nugget of information whatsoever, "Excuse me what?"

After gesturing for Germanny to sit down and "Close the bloody door," he started to talk, figuring that it being near a millennium ago now, it wouldn't be detrimental to tell someone of it.

Ludwig was painfully young, nations from the new world were often double or triple his age, and for Europe he was no more than a babe in arms, some or the older nations being easily well over 10 times his age, and it showed, Germany listening with rapt fascination to the rather dreary tales of France and his abysmal first attempt at raising a child.

Apparently according to most, he really didn't improve much with time and when it came to raising Canada apparently England was a better mentor, and with all the horror stories from many of the waifs that passed through the household, it raised questions on just how bad France was at this.

According to England they used to spar, being the early 1000s it made sense, and apparently England was better at it than France, so the fucker locked him in a room with minimal food and water, yet England still beat him, and poisoned him while they were at it.

Germany took this with a grain of salt the size of Russia because over time things become, let's just say rather embellished, and this was almost a millenia ago, so it was probably quite a bit fictitious.

After that story was over, and Germany counted at least 5 deaths in it, he suddenly asked "Was Gilbert a good parent?"

"I-I think he was, he looked after me whenever he could, teaching me almost everything I know, and the rest of the time I was usually with Switzerland or Austria-Hungary."

"You turned out pretty well in my opinion, so they seem to have done a good enough job."

For some unfathomable reason (really it was pretty easy to fathom just not to someone as utterly dense as he) Germany blushed at this sentence.

"Plus you've always been well behaved, I wonder what that's got you?"

This would have been a pretty normal sentence if it wasn't for the fact that England has a very suggestive look on his face, a mischievous smile coupled with the raising of one of those impressive brows, which amongst other things, made his knees feel like jelly as he stood by the doorframe.

Germany immediately blushed furiously, indeed both the Italies did like the obedience, a lot. And Japan dressed him up in some rather interesting clothes, not like he minded and tied him up. That was a spiritual experience for both of them for sure, plus that fucking smile oh my g o d help.

An odd sound that sounded quite similar to a croak escaped that throat while he was beet red just thinking about those rather interesting experiences, his face at this point could be used as a stop sign with just how red it was, with his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

"I'm just messing with you, come, sit down." Patting the bed because Germany was still standing in the doorway looking embarrased, and so he did, setting down his stuff and changing his stuffy work clothes into more casual clothes that were loose fitting but holy shit Arthur's brain went at it.

Wydhhshh GAY

STOP IT.

LOOK AT THE FUCKING HAIR ALL MESSED UP JUST LOOK AT IT

I AM AND YOURE MAKING IT WEIRD

I AM YOU

SHUT UP

NO.

After that nothing really happened, they sat down on their sides of the bed and took out their work, completing the stuff they needed to do together at breakneck speed until the sun started to set and Germany had to physically drag England to eat something because apparently three square meals are a must and eating half a sausage roll at 2 in the morning does not count as a square meal.

Both muting their phones due to a very excited Francis yelling at them over text to come to the bar after the meeting, as everyone would be there, neither really wanted to.

All in all it was pretty calm, both of then were having gay thoughts that could be palpably felt, sure, but they didn't manifest into anything much, dinner being a quiet affair in a small cafe down the road, where lots of tea and coffee were drunk and very good sandwiches eaten, there was aa small discussion on the proper baking of a black forest cake and the prior meeting, but otherwise it was a quiet evening for them both, getting back to their room and sleeping late into the night, both busy tapping away at laptops and sincerely hoping that they both do and do not end up spooning in the night

Meanwhile.

"Alfredka, that stupid piggy and I have to sleep with him!" Rather irritated Russian grumbling could be heard but vaguely deciphered, mainly because no one wanted to cross the cloud of doom and vague gayness that surrounded Ivan Braginsky, personification of Russia.

Jamming the lift button perhaps a little too hard to be necessary, he waited, for quite a while in fact, but the lift decided that today it had to service each and every floor above him, which left him to take the stairs.

He did not like stairs very much, especially as his room, their room, was on the seventh motherfucking floor, so huffing and puffing, he eventually made it up, flushed red in his usually porcelain like skin, and ready for murder slightly more than usual.

Opening their shared room, with a throatful of abuse just ready to hurl, but stopped immediately seeing the dumbass naked, and sprawled on the bed, sleeping like a baby, snoring loudly.

Holy fuck hes hot.

HE IS SLEEPING NAKED HOW IS THAT HOT AND HE HAS MAN BOOBIES

BITCH DONT QUESTION ME.

FINE.

Other than having gay panic, Ivan was also wondering how the fuck he had slept so fast, didn't he go up to his room not 10 minutes before him, the fuck? And how in all things unholy did he manage to get buckass naked in the same time frame, and on top of that why the fuck had he chose to sleep buckass naked when he was sleeping with another dude?

But he was tired, and very warm, either from seeing Alfred buckass naked or from the blasted stairs, so taking off his clothes (not all of them he had an under shirt and boxers on, he had fucking standards) and slept, until of course France called because he was a bastard and didn't like people sleeping.

Turns out that they had started to hug even though they'd been asleep for about half an hour.

Not mentioning the fact that he was buckass naked and hugging a dude, he picked up the phone, and oh joy it was a video call.

Frances eyebrows were in his hair seeing Alfred and Ivan both on call, one naked the other one not.

"That was quick non?"

Alarmed, as a teen would be, Alfred denied fucking in the way that makes you think that they definitely fucked, Ivan being a bit more reasonable said that they had both just fallen asleep.

After getting that altercation out of the way, Francis invited then to the bar, where a bunch of nations would be at, as his treat.

"Ok we will go, just dont start spreading any rumours, or your face will be unrecognisable."

Alfred gave a nervous chuckle, not exactly sure whether that was an exaggeration because knowing his family and the people he tended to be around, when that was said it occasionally was meant to be true.

"Jesus, Ok Ivan, I won't, I'll be waiting!"

#Gereng #Engger #Technically #Amerus #Thisnis stupid because sleep is a no #Emgland and france have a complicated relationship and Germany is bebe

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zuol · 3 months

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Accepting Myself

The weather is very strange today.

The winds are strong. I wonder if everything will be okay.

I am staying in, maybe until later in the evening when I decide to go to the gym.

There’s an avocado tree I see that’s been swaying in harsh movements. I wonder if it’ll be okay. I want to say it’s decades old, so I don’t think it’ll break.

I’ve been feeling a little weird about having this blog be public. Anyone can get access to it, and I’m sharing vulnerably about my own experiences.

I’ve been feeling pain from “walking the talk” - doing what I say. I am probably my biggest critic, and I have to reevaluate my own relationship to accountability, self-love, and responsibility.

I’ve been sharing a lot more vulnerable things online and maybe it’s to my own detriment, I don’t know. But I don’t necessarily see it that way, leaving my online footprint sharing things that feel very true to me. I want to show up authentically as myself and this small space offers me an opportunity to do so.

Two significant things happened recently - conclusions to two relationships. It’s weird because these relationships are ones I’ve talked openly about with the people around me. I used to never want to talk about my relationships with other people because it’s always been difficult. I had a fear of starting “drama” and I have always wanted to be mindful because of the enmeshment.

It doesn’t work for me anymore.

I remember having a conversation with my therapist about these two men I’ve interacted with in the past. One of them was someone I considered as a close friend because we practiced meditation together, and the other person was someone I saw as a romantic interest.

I remember feeling resistant to sharing my feelings and thoughts about these two people, being afraid that I would say or do the “wrong” thing, and that I would be judged.

I want to acknowledge that I come from a conservative household, so I’m very used to keeping things to myself.

There’s this Vietnamese word/phrase called “đàng hoàng” and to me, it basically means being a good, moral person. There’s some more complexity depending on the gender too. I have found that because I’m someone who identifies and passes as a feminine cis woman, higher standards are imposed on me.

And the way I’ve internalized those standards has been strange (to put it simply).

With that in mind, I would like to practice accepting myself.

Accepting that I fumble and that I have done things that are questionable. And they’re not even “that bad”!

I remember talking to T, sharing a little bit of my own embarrassment, because of a situation I experienced going to the club. And she shared with me that she was happy that I got to do something out of my comfort zone and that I should just have fun with my life. I had a call with another friend, M, today who shared a similar sentiment with me.

That I should just have fun with my life, and that my 20s are the time I get to explore.

I’m not sure how I feel about this, maybe because I’m a “late bloomer” in some aspects of my life. Not that I really believe this, because I know the specific circumstances I went through in my late teens and early 20s (age 18-21).

I guess what matters is that I can embrace myself and advocate for myself. This is becoming increasingly important, especially coming into all of my relationships, whether they’re old or new.

No one knows me better than myself.

#did not proofread #rereading what I’ve written is giving me a headache but I will give it space to be here

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jvstheworld · 6 months

Text

My Ted Lasso Re-watch: S1E8 (part 5)

The Diamond Dogs: Darts scene

This scene gets a post all to itself. This is the scene that got me interested in the show. My introduction to Ted Lasso was through Cinema Therapy. I had no idea about the show before hand. I even got Jason Sudeikis confused for Mike Wozniak. Despite knowing nothing about the show, I watched CT's first episode about Ted. And thus began my hyperfixation (and subsequent thirst for Jason, much to my friend's detriment). The darts scene was the first scene they properly talked about, and it hit me. I understood what Ted was talking about. 'Be curious, not judgemental' is a quote I have since used in real life, though the circumstances of it were not good. But I just want to talk about this scene and what it meant to me as I watched it.

Rupert might be Ted's opponent and the one he's coaching in the scene but it's Rebecca who ends up taking his words to heart. Rupert won't change, men like him don't. It's all about power, money and control for him. Rebecca though, at heart she is a good person, she just got hurt so badly that she's lashing out, and hurting innocent people in the process. Ted isn't taking joy out of beating and embarrassing Rupert, he operates a non schadenfreude zone, he's just wants to help Rebecca not have to deal with her ex publicly humiliating her every week after a game. Rupert just thinks Ted is some American idiot, yet Ted knows how to get the best from his players on and off the pitch. He understands they are people first, players second. Same becomes a better player in his new position than he was when he was on defense. This change leads him to score the winning goal at the end of the series. Ted's folksy charm makes him endearing and approachable. But he's not an idiot like Rupert thinks. Ted is likeable and loveable because he is curious about people, if he wasn't then Nate wouldn't now be able to help the team come up with new strategies for playing, Roy wouldn't be a leader, and he wouldn't be able to recommend books for every player on the team based on their own personalities and they might be able to grow as people. Ted looks and sounds harmless and people underestimate him for it. He is kind and patient, but extremely observant. And it serves him well because he can find out who people are and bring out the best in them.

People who judge you don't want their opinions challenged, because that might mean they were wrong, and people sometimes have a hard time admitting they are wrong. Being curious means opening up to the idea that the world is more interesting that it seems at first glance. Rupert doesn't want to be curious, he wants to be better than everyone, he needed to be to get where he is. He came from a working class family and he felt like he had to become the person he is to survive and be someone of importance. Somewhere during his rags to riches story he lost his heart along the way, became so focused on power, money and control that he ended up hurting people he was supposed to care about. Thinking that now he's made himself a big shit that he can do whatever he wants and damn the consequences because there are no consequences for him. We've seen it whenever Rebecca talks about the divorce. She gets all the shit from the press and yet Rupert is the one who had the affairs. No one got topless photos of him sunbathing after the divorce, but Rebecca did. Rupert gets away with everything, he knows he can, so he treats people horribly because no one will challenge him. Except for Ted.

Ted is curious about people because he knows that people go through their own pain and can hide it very well. And people who do that might disappear for his life, like his dad, and most of the time people don't know why. When you hear someone has taken their own life, you get people says that they didn't know they were suffering, that they thought they were happy and doing okay, that they should have reached out and got help. Ted saw first hand the consequences of not being curious about someone and it scarred him for life. So now he always is, because he doesn't want people to go through the same trauma he went though. He's not judgemental about people's struggles because if you're going to properly support someone then you can't be. He wants people to feel seen and worth getting to know. He wants them to see their value in the world and how important it is to not lose that.

Ted mentions his father passing away, and that's all he says, because he doesn't ever talk about how his dad died. After season 2 you realise just how tragic Ted is as a character. That one day, without knowing it, 16 year old Ted would play darts one last time with his dad, before his dad took his life. It makes this scene more heartbreaking because Ted is only as good as he is because of his dad, but he had to learn to be curious about people because of dad's death. Ted might say he got his realisation from the quote, but he knew a long time before that what he had to do if he wanted to try and avoid going through that trauma ever again. Ted doesn't quit things because that's how he views what his dad did. Quitting. Quitting his wife, son, friends, everything. So much of Ted and who he is as a person stems from this one event, leading him to being a coach to be there for people, support them to be their best selves, so they don't have to go through pain alone.

In my own life, I have been judged by people I thought I should trust, who I hoped cared about me. But instead they wanted to believe the worst about me because they only saw a fraction of what I go through. They didn't see the pain I went through. I have been through loss of my own and have suffered on my own because I didn't feel like I had anyone to turn to. I have been manipulated and gaslit by someone who I thought I could trust and he abused that trust and it almost cost me. I suffer from chronic mental and physical health problems and I hide it because I learn that the people who judge me don't want to understand what I go through. This whole scene hit me so damn hard because I realised how much the people I'm supposed to trust, who are supposed to care about me, we're curious enough about me. They didn't ask me questions about my life and me as a person. They only wanted to know the bare minimum and that was enough for them to make their judgements. Have I done a shit tonne of things wrong? Heck yeah, I have, name me someone who hasn't. But does that mean I should be judged by those moments only? No. Because there's more to me, more to anyone, than their worst moments. But those people I trusted, they kept their judgements of me. They didn't want it to be challenged because if they were, then they might be wrong that. And if they are wrong about me, who else might they be wrong about? Unlike Ted, they didn't see the richness that being curious about people might bring. People can be amazing if you get to know them, but you have to want to. You can't just see a person and think that you have things figured out about them, because you don't have the full picture. You don't see their whole life, you can't see what goes on in their head. If you're not curious about people then you will never truly know them, no matter what part they have in your life. I don't want to go through the rest of my life judging people for what they do and who they are when I don't know what they are going through.

The scene ends with Ted being a gracious winner, because he doesn't want to rub it in Rupert's face that he won, he's not that kind of guy. He'd rather let Rupert and Bex leave without a fuss so Rebecca can have her own celebration of not having to be humiliated by Rupert, that he still does not have control over her anymore.

The writers who wrote this scene did a beautiful job, because I keep coming back to it so many times. And Jason Sudeikis fucking sells it. It's just him playing darts but he manages to make it impactful.

The show changed my brain chemistry, and it started with this scene. For that it will always have a special place in my heart.

#ted lasso #rebecca welton #rupert mannion #Be curious not judgemental #tw death #tw sui talk #cw sui mention #ted lasso rewatch #tv show thoughts #jason sudeikis

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lunaheadblog · 7 months

Text

How Can a Broken Relationship Be Healed?

Relationships frequently have stress-inducing challenges and issues; life is not always sunshine and rainbows. Sometimes these issues can get so bad that the relationship dissolves as a result. Moreover, it can be difficult to know how to restore the connection and carry on when this happens. Therefore, this essay will discuss several strategies you can use to mend a damaged relationship.

Identify the Issue

The first step in mending a broken relationship is realizing a problem exists. Therefore, both parties must be open to discussing the factors that contributed to the breakup of the relationship. Furthermore, it's critical to have frank conversations about what went wrong and how it affected each individual. Although having this conversation can be difficult, it is necessary to move ahead.

Consider Becoming Responsible

After addressing the issues, each person must take ownership of their role in the relationship's demise. This means accepting accountability for any mistakes or detrimental behaviors and expressing regret. So, approach this phase with seriousness and a willingness to atone.

Try Implementing some Changes

Both parties must be willing to change to repair a relationship. This could mean prioritizing the connection or changing damaging behaviors from the past. Hence, it's critical to enter this phase prepared to make adjustments and committed to the collaboration.

Effective Communication is a Must

Through excellent communication, you may patch up the cracks in your relationship. Both parties must be prepared to listen to one another without interrupting or losing their cool. Additionally, it is crucial to express each person's needs and feelings in order for the partnership to succeed. As a result, there will be greater understanding and trust.

Request Support

In some situations, a licensed therapist or counselor may be able to help you restore a broken relationship. A therapist can facilitate dialogue and provide tools and approaches for problem-solving. They can also provide a safe space for each person to express their emotions and cope with difficult feelings.

Let Go and Show Mercy

Forgiveness is necessary for relationship repair. To go forward with a new beginning, one must let go of the pains of the past. Even though it can be difficult, the relationship needs to go through this process in order to mend. Remembering that forgiveness involves letting go of the anger and bitterness that could prevent us from going forward is crucial. To forgive does not mean to forget or condone offensive behavior.

Pay Attention to the Positives

Finally, it's important to focus on the benefits of the connection. This could encourage appreciation and gratitude for the beneficial features of the partnership. Additionally, it can encourage the growth of optimism and hope for the future.

Conclusion

To conclude, it takes time, persistence, and commitment to mend a troubled relationship. Both parties must be prepared to communicate openly and honestly, take responsibility for their roles in the breakup, make amends, get over the past transgressions, forgive, and move on. With patience, compassion, and a commitment to the connection, a damaged relationship can be fixed and positive progress can be achieved.

Try the mindfulness meditation app, LunaHead for some soothing music tracks. Use this app to eliminate all of your pessimistic thoughts.

DOWNLOAD NOW

#lunahead #better sleep

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ghostlyschizophrenic · 3 years

Text

Why being forced to hide psychotic symptoms is detrimental to recovery:

Hi! it’s your friendly neighborhood schizoaffective and i have a story to tell, a story that’s backed by research.

my psychotic symptoms were early onset. my earliest memory of psychotic symptoms was 6 years old, when my parents were changing the locks on the house and i had an intense belief that changing them would mean someone had broken into our house and hadn’t left. i believed my toys had human emotions and felt sad if i played with another toy, so i refused to buy new toys because i was so scared of making my toys sad.

i had a very flattened emotional response (which i would later learn is a symptom of schizophrenia), and in kindergarten and first grade when we learned about emotions, i learned to fake the look of emotional response. i learned how to put a smile on my face when i felt happy and to put a frown on my face when i felt sad. when i was alone, i would practice, but some days i was too tired to do it and i kept my face in the natural way: flat. it wasn’t that i wasn’t feeling emotions, i just couldn’t express them the way people wanted me to

during my elementary school years, i made up words constantly to communicate. i couldn’t form proper sentences, something was blocked in my brain and everything felt scattered and scrambled (disorganized thoughts and speech). my teachers broke that habit in me, not by helping me learn to organize my thoughts, but by teaching me not to speak unless i knew exactly what i was trying to say.

then came middle school and i started hallucinating and my delusions got worse. but everything i had learned from teachers and tv was that hallucinations are scary to people, and i didn’t want to be scary. i would be laughed at if i told anyone about my strong beliefs (delusions) so i didn’t tell anyone. i didn’t tell anyone that i believed that the characters in my tv show were real and the government was hiding their existence and if they knew that i knew they’re real, they’d put me on a watch list. i didn’t tell anyone i was hearing sounds that came straight out of a horror movie. i hid that.

i hid it so well that i avoided treatment. i had an acute psychotic episode, and all i said was that i was having panic attacks. i didn’t tell anyone about the delusion that school was going to literally kill me, or that i heard blood curdling screams in the hallways and when i was trying to sleep at night. i avoided early intervention.

for other reasons that i won’t get into, i was put on seroquel as a mood stabilizer, but as many of you know, it’s also an antipsychotic. this was the first time in my life i felt some kind of relief from my symptoms. i didn’t connect the dots because my psychiatrist called it a mood stabilizer, not an antipsychotic, so i didn’t know why i was feeling better in those areas.

it wasn’t until 10th grade when i was taking a psychology class from a teacher i trusted that i connected the dots. by this time i knew i had psychosis. i had access to the internet and i had googled what was wrong with me, but it wasn’t until a class where he emphasized getting help that i thought ok, now i should bring it up.

by this point, i had had 2 more acute psychotic episodes that kept me out of school, but because i was taught to hide everything, i still didn’t tell anyone the real reason why i couldn’t function. “paralyzing panic attacks” became code for “whatever the real reason is that’s keeping him out of school”. but my teacher made me think i needed help, especially because we were learning about schizophrenia in class and i had a sneaking suspicion that i, someone with a family history of schizophrenia, had it.

i brought it up to my doctors and i was started on antipsychotics, this time with the official name of antipsychotics. but it was a bit too late. my psychiatrist told me that if we had caught it earlier, i may have reacted to treatment better.

i’ve been in treatment for years and the longest i’ve gone without an acute psychotic episode is 5 months. i’ve done my research and in patients with psychosis, the first few months after psychotic symptoms are present are vital to the treatment and recovery of the patient.

it’s not just, oh you won’t suffer as long, it’s literally you will have a better chance at recovery. if you catch psychosis in the prodromal stage, it can greatly reduce the chances of another psychotic episode happening.

by being taught to hide my illness from a young age, i lost the chance at having an easier recovery. yes i learned to confine myself to societal expectations and appear “normal”, but i caused myself more pain in the long run.

early intervention is key to an easier recovery, and i’m going to leave a few links to show you what i mean.

ted talk about early psychotic intervention

psychosis prodromal phase

talking with a psychiatrist about early psychosis intervention

early intervention of psychosis

benefits of early intervention

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books · 3 years

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Writer Spotlight: Alexis Nedd

It's New Release Tuesday! We caught up with Alexis Nedd (@alexisthenedd) to talk about her debut novel, Don’t Hate The Player, which is out today. Alexis is a Brooklyn-based pop culture “fanthropologist” who has only ever loved things in a big, obsessive way. As the Senior Entertainment Reporter at Mashable.com, she covers television, movies, and video games, focusing on sci-fi and fantasy universes like Game of Thrones and the MCU. When she’s not writing for money, Alexis is writing for no money on her socials, where her feeds consist of deep dives on weird history and analyzing pop culture as an artifact of society.

Don’t Hate The Player is a YA romance novel that follows two competitive eSports players as they navigate school, parents, and other IRL stuff, while preparing for their biggest (and only) tournament yet. As real life and online life collide, both find the boundaries between online and IRL slipping into each other.

Can you start by telling us a little bit about Don’t Hate The Player?

In one corner, we have Emilia Romero, a popular, high-achieving Puerto Rican girl who secretly plays Guardians League Online with the elite Team Fury. No one in her real life knows she games, and everything hinges on it staying that way. In the other corner is Jake Hooper, a quiet, detrimentally empathetic nerd who’s had a crush on Emilia for years. He plays GLO with Team Unity and thinks he’s otherwise invisible.

When Guardians League Online announces a huge tournament in their city, Jake is shocked to see Emilia competing. Jake is now the only person who knows her secret, and they have to work together to keep it...all while the tournament brings their teams closer and closer to an ultimate Fury vs. Unity showdown.

Outwardly, Jake is an awkward, suffering bundle of anxiety, quite successfully hiding his integrity and wit. What was enjoyable/difficult about writing a neurodivergent romantic lead?

I started working on DHTP around the same time I learned I had ADHD. Getting that diagnosis as an adult ushered in a really strange and painful period of reevaluating my childhood, knowing that I was neurodivergent and didn’t get the help I needed. I gave a lot of the traits I used to think made me “wrong” or “bad”—the anxiety, the spinning thoughts, the self-deprecating coping mechanisms—to Jake because writing them into a lovable character felt like correcting the narrative I had grown up writing about myself.

It was difficult to excavate all of that because that level of self-evaluation totally sucks and takes forever, but by the end, I could look at Jake and think, “if I can’t hate him for feeling this way, I have no business hating myself for having felt that way.”

DHTP comes alive in its use of online gaming maps and chatrooms. How did you approach getting those virtual places right?

I made my first internet friends when cameras on phones or laptops were still rare, so I got to know a lot of people through chatrooms and forums. People’s personalities, real or constructed, come off so strongly in those rapid-fire conversations. That solved one of the problems I knew I’d have coming into this book—how do I introduce the reader to a group of characters who aren’t going to show up until the end and make them seem like part of the story the whole time? Answer: Spy on their group chat.

It was so fun to play all five roles in those chapters and determine who uses acronyms or memes, who always punctuates, what their in-jokes say about them, and so on. Truly some of my favorite parts of DHTP are in those chats.

How important do you think it is to meaningfully include online culture in YA literature?

After the year we just had, when most social interaction moved from the analog space to the digital, I consider the transformation of “online culture” into just “culture, full stop,” complete. I say this knowing I am a fully discourse-poisoned individual, and other people or writers may have the freedom to think less about that all of the time. A significant chunk of life takes place on screens these days, so if I’m writing about life... I’m going to write about the screens.

One of the big themes of DHTP is that what happens online is real whether you like it or not. So what looks from the outside like a mummy and a snake beating a guy up outside a space church can actually be the beginning of an IRL love story. Just because it’s silly doesn’t mean it’s not important.

What makes a good beginning to a story?

I don’t have any definitive advice on this, but with DHTP and the second novel I’m currently working on, I think my favorite method is putting your main characters in a situation designed to make them act the most themselves. For DHTP, we meet Jake at a party he was invited to out of politeness, so his discomfort and anxiety are front and center. Until he meets Emilia, who is only at the party because it’s in an arcade where she can indulge her gaming obsession without her parents watching. There, now we know some important things about both characters, and from here, it’s a 75k+ word journey to get them to kiss.

What’s the first book you remember loving?

This is the hardest question anyone has ever asked me. Are you sure you wouldn’t like a nice explanation of string theory instead? I’m sure I had others, but one of my formative obsessions was A Series of Unfortunate Events because as a child, I was so often frustrated with adults who didn’t believe a single word I said just because a child was saying it. Those books capture that frustration and, more importantly, do not resolve it, which I think was kinder than telling young people that everything would be OK if we read a lot of books and placed value on facts.

As a writer, how do you practice self-care when juggling work commitments and the creative processes of writing and editing?

I simply do not. After two years of working full-time and writing this book (most of it during a global pandemic), I have mastered none of the skills required to unplug and take care of myself beyond remaining alive and upright. I do not want to project the image of someone who has the self-care matrix figured out.

You don’t have to have it figured out to make something you’re proud of. You can be exhausted and smelly and know you should probably work on that soon and still create. I don’t recommend it, but it’s possible. Ask for help when you can.

What would Emilia or Jake’s blog look like if they were on Tumblr? What kind of content would they (re)blog?

Emilia’s blog would be a secret Guardians League Online stan account. She’d reblog fanart and write incredible deep dives on strategy and lore. No one would know it was her blog, but talkswithknox.tumblr.com would be required reading for people who want to know the deep magic of the game.

Jake is mostly here to read good takes on his dashboard and learn something he didn’t know when he logged in. He has never written an original post, and that’s fine.

Thanks so much for taking the time, Alexis! Don't Hate The Player is on shelves from today (and it's really, really good).

#writer spotlight #alexis nedd #don't hate the player #neurodiversity #writeblr #bookblr #books #writers on tumblr #authors on tumblr #gaming #mmorpg #writing advice #long post #worth it #ya literature

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slightly-smarter-nat · 2 years

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A Really Bad Idea: The Scarlet Apprentice || Wanda Maximoff

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Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Warnings: Descriptions of choking; mentions of pain; mentions of killing; mentions of mind control. Also Wanda’s signature head tilt mentioned - we all know what that means! If I have missed any warnings, please let me know.

Word Count: 2098 words.

Summary: A visit to ‘The Nosy Neighbour’- when all else fails, there’s only one person Wanda can turn to…

A/N: Part 4 of ‘The Scarlet Apprentice’. I couldn’t go on without adding our favourite nosy neighbour to the mix- meaning I’ve had ‘Agatha All Along’ playing in my head, non stop all morning. I hope you all enjoy!

Please do not repost (on here or any social media platform), copy, translate or take ownership of my work. Reblogs, likes and comments are always appreciated <3.

Translation: “Detka” - ‘baby’.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

Masterlist

GIF not mine

A Really Bad Idea: The Scarlet Apprentice-

“Well don’t just stand there dear, come on in!” The stranger waves Wanda into her home eagerly. Wanda charges forward, not even casting a second glance in your direction.

You let out a depressed sigh, hating how Wanda was treating you, “here goes nothing” you let out before following the two women inside.

You slowly stride further into the house, taking in your surroundings. Wow, you thought the outside was something, the inside is just as alluring, if not more.

Exotic patterns line the walls of the residence, giving it that element of quirkiness. Various trinkets line the shelves and furnishings leading into the main living area. You hang back a moment to admire some of the minor details displayed around the house, curiosity getting the better of you. A collection of subjective ornaments fill a table placed in the foyer of the house, the intricacy of their arrangement warning you off from touching them- you’re in enough trouble as it is, adding broken relics to the list would be detrimental for your chance of making up with Wanda. You just hope she fills in the gaps to what you’ve supposedly done that’s so terrible; and soon, this tension is driving you crazy.

You’re about to venture off to locate Wanda and ‘the stranger’ when you notice an open, black, velvet box. Inside it houses a beautiful Vintage Brooch, gracefully laid upon a purple cushion. You ghost your fingertips over it when you feel an electric shock shoot through your hand; you gasp and pull away your hand instantly, reflexes kicking in. Before you can investigate the suspected heirloom, a resounding voice grabs your attention.

“There you are Hon, Wanda sent me to come and fetch you. Oh, where are my manners? I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Agnes, owner of this house and surely your new best friend.” She finishes her sentence with a nudge to your side and an exaggerated wink.

You let out a humoured breath, trying to think of the right words to say to push the conversation forward, “Sorry I would have introduced myself at the front door but I got distracted by your lovely possessions. I’m y/n.” You hold your hand out to shake Agnes’ but to your surprise she hesitates, displaying a conflicted look on her face, whilst maintaining frantic eye contact.

“Agnes, are you okay?” You press slightly, wondering if you did something wrong. She stands there for a few seconds before closing her eyes and shaking her head slightly, providing you with an intense smile.

“Okie Dokie, Artichokie; let’s get you settled, follow me Hon.” Agnes attempts to lead you further into the Household, but you stand there with conflicting emotions. You are trying to process the sudden change in atmosphere, confusion clouds your thoughts, you wonder what caused Agnes to zone out like that; it’s as though someone flipped a switch.

“Keep up slowpoke, we wouldn’t want you to get lost on the way, would we?” And with that, you finally make your move into the living area of the house.

You enter the room to see Wanda has already taken her place on the main piece of faded upholstery, centring the room. You decide to linger for a few seconds, trying to determine the best course of action to approach Wanda until Agnes speaks up, “Come on Buttercup, take a seat, we don’t bite-well I can't promise anything.” You whip your head around to face Agnes in surprise, trying to decipher whether you heard her correctly, or whether you’re just imagining things.

Wanda gently grasps your hand and tugs, “Love, take a seat for me.” She pulls you down all the way to sit next to her. You feel your whole body relax, relieved that Wanda was talking to you again. You test the waters by giving her a gentle smile, to which she returns. She places a hand on your cheek as she leans in closer and rests her forehead against yours, “I’m sorry about what happened before Detka, I was just so angry and scared, I shouldn’t have treated you like that.”

“It’s okay Wands, just please explain to me what I did and how we can fix whatever this whole situation is.” You’re about to question further until a jovial voice picks up.

“Isn’t that darling, I would say I could relate but my Husband, Ralph wouldn’t do a sweet thing like that even if you planted the idea in his head…” Agnes brings herself to a stop, causing you and Wanda to glance over. She has a similar expression on her face to the one she displayed earlier- conflict. She looks like she’s trying to bring herself out of some sort of trance, you feel Wanda shift beside you, straightening up her position causing you to glance over. You’re convinced you see a flash of red pass through Wanda’s eyes, but you choose to ignore it when you notice Agnes standing up and straightening out the invisible creases on her outfit.

“Anywho, I was just reading a crackerjack magazine article called- you know what, I will just go grab it for you sweet-“ Agnes is in the process of making her way out of the room; Wanda sighs and raises her hand, manoeuvring her fingers skilfully to release a red tendril of her powers. You’re about to ask Wanda what she just conjured until you see Agnes return, only she looks… different. She looks threatening. Not like the courteous and welcoming woman you were speaking to only moments ago.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in, little formal don’t you think, help me out sweetheart?” Agnes gestures to her clothing, her newfound drapes coating her in an intense shade of Purple. Wanda rolls her eyes before flicking her wrist again, changing Agnes’ clothes into a modern day, casual outfit-Purple seems to be her signature colour.

Agnes moves back to her previous space, making a dramatic effort to drop down on one of her unoccupied seats, she crosses her legs, resting her head on her hand-she seems disinterested.

“Well, well, well young lady it looks like you brought me a treat; I promise I’ll take good care of them- well until I get bored of them of course.” Agnes finishes off her remark with a sinister smirk.

Wanda tilts her head, you widen your eyes at this, knowing full well what tends to follow her signature move- you’re just thankful you’re not on the receiving end of it. “Watch your tone Agatha, I’d hate to change you back to your desired role so soon.” Wanda doesn’t look phased, she knows she’s in control of this situation, wait, did she just say Agatha?

“Wands, what’s going on?” You question, slightly panicked; not being used to such a situation, your mind starts to produce answers you’re not sure you like the sound of-this isn’t good.

“Don’t talk y/n” Wanda commands.

“Ahhh the infamous y/n, Wanda has told me all about you. The name’s Agatha Harkness, lovely to finally meet you, dear.” Agatha moves her position forward in her chair, seemingly more interested in the conversation.

“Infamous?” You question.

“Well of course, our Wanda here hasn’t been best pleased with your behaviour recently- oh yes, she has told me all about your, what do you call them Hon, ‘episodes’?” Agatha smiles triumphantly, knowing she’s getting under Wanda’s skin.

Wanda’s eyes are consumed in a red glow, she’s slowly becoming worked up in Agatha’s presence, “I will not warn you again, I have come to ask you a…favour.” You look at Wanda in disbelief, why wouldn’t she have discussed this with you beforehand?

“Hey toots, you’re the one who’s keeping me here against my will, forcing me to play along in your twisted fantasy, don’t taint me as your villain. Does y/n know about your previous time in Westview? How about we take a moment to reminisce, it will be a gas for all involved.” Agatha leans back in her chair, clearly losing interest in the conversation.

In a split second, Wanda conjures a tendril resembling that of a rope; she places it around Agatha’s neck, keeping a steady pressure. Agatha’s demeanour changes, she seems to understand that Wanda is in no mood for games.

“Like I said, I have come to ask you for a favour, and since you have no powers to retaliate I suggest you listen. I will not hesitate to crush your airways if you keep pushing me. It’s your call Agatha, maintain the ability to breathe, or spend your last few minutes of life desperately trying to piece back together your pharynx.” Wanda waits patiently for Agatha’s decision.

You remain on edge, hoping Agatha gives up her determination to agitate Wanda in any way possible.

“Good girl, I knew you had it in you, now drop your pretty little sparkles and let’s see what I can do for you.” Wanda hesitates for a moment, but drops the force.

Agatha makes a point to readjust her shirt collar, “You’ve never brought your Pet before, this must be serious.” Agatha turns her gaze to you, you start to squirm under her harsh stare. You’re starting to miss ‘Agnes’ right about now.

Wanda interrupts Agatha, “it’s getting worse, the episodes that is. Y/n will lose total control, at first I thought they were aware, but now I’m not so sure.” Wanda casts her gaze down to her feet. This is the first time you’re hearing any reference to these ‘episodes’.

“When was the last time they had an episode?” Agatha enquiries.

“A day and a half ago, it took them longer to come out of the trance, it was like someone else was in control. I managed to place a disruption charm on y/n to prevent them from using their powers. I don’t know how long it will last, The Darkhold’s power is advancing too quickly.” Wanda finishes, slightly hugging her own body as she goes on.

You don’t even attempt to interrupt, you can’t process the idea of you having episodes of time where you’re not aware of your actions. Is this what The Darkhold’s magic was really capable of?

“Ohhh Sweetiepie, you really have upset the ‘Chosen One’, you must have done something really impressive.” Agatha almost sounds amused at the situation. “I don’t see the issue, it’s what you wanted, your ‘Scarlet Apprentice’ by your side.”

“You know I’d never want to put y/n in a position where they are seconds from killing their own friends, or family. You have unique understandings about the lost segment of The Darkhold, can you teach me its findings, allow me to understand how to help y/n in the safest way possible?” You’re heartbroken in the way Wanda speaks about you, as if you’re this horrendous version of yourself. If it was that bad, you’d remember it-right?

“What do I have to gain from this? It’s not like you will give me what I really want. Why should I help you benefit your life further?” Agatha seems to be in disbelief that Wanda could be so desperate, that she is seeking her guidance.

“Your freedom, I will reinstate your powers, I won't bother you, you will be free to do as you please. Only if you help me and y/n understand and control all aspects of ’The Scarlet Apprentice’. Do we have a deal?” Wanda reaches for your hand, acknowledging that this may be a lot to take in all at once. You can't help but wonder if you’re a lost cause, whether any of this will truly work. Your decision is made when Agatha puts forward her answer.

Agatha lets out an unnerving laugh before saying, “Oh I’m going to have so much fun with you my Sweet, let's get to work on your first lesson shall we.”

Something tells you that this is a bad idea, a really bad idea.

*Meanwhile*

Parts of the rubble begin to move, revealing a golden sparkle of light. Suddenly a blast sends any loose debris into the air, releasing the trapped Sorcerer. Uncasting a protection spell, he staggers to his feet, processing his surroundings. The Sorcerer notices a vantage point, slowly making his way towards it. Pain ridden, he barely makes it to the top. Centring himself, he gathers what little strength he has to shout the only name he can concern himself with at this time:

“Wong!?”

After several tries, he collapses to the ground, utterly exhausted. Stephen knows Wong is under that rubble somewhere, he just needs to find him.

Taglist: @sheisnotalone @lainjupi

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equestrianwritingsstuff · 3 years

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Uhmmm.... so I had a prompt idea. What if hero arrested villain, and handed him to the authorites, and he basically told her that he'd make her pay for it. Then hero goes to the prison for a different reason weeks later, where she sees villain, terrified, sick, and drugged. So, she reluctantly takes him home and cares for him. She is scared he will attack her when he's lucid, but when he does fully wake up, he's just terrified.

This is such a good idea! I saw your submission right before I went to bed and laid there thinking about it, so as you can see I was quite excited to write it.

Paying For It

Warnings: threats, horrible treatment by authorities, left to be sick, fever, blood, drugged, forced sedation, unconsciousness, nightmares, smoking mention, paralysis (due to sickness), sick animal analogy, delirium

"You will pay for this," he growled as the handcuffs clicked into place. "I will make you you pay for this and not by money, no-" a chuckle "- I will hurt you."

Hero shuddered as she walked down the icy path back to the same prison that she recently turned Villain into. Horrible thoughts of that said villain breaking out and torturing her flooded into her mind, making her already chilly veins even colder. She hugged her fleece tighter around her and adjusted her scarf, suddenly wishing she wore her winter coat.

Before she knew it, Hero was trotting up the steps towards the concrete building. It was, by design, barren yet strong.

She had some documents to bring to the office. There was a new supervillain in town, actually more like ten, but Hero only managed to get information about the one. They most likely moved in after the biggest threat around, Villain, was arrested.

She opened the door, closing it quietly, and walked up to the desk. The hero, a young boy, most likely a sidekick holding down the fort while his mentor went to do something else, sitting up there was lazily playing a video game on his phone.

Hero coughed to get his attention. The boy didn't respond.

"Hello?" Hero asked.

The boy startled, tossing his phone backwards. "I wasn't," he defended, "on my phone, I swear."

"Uh huh," Hero grunted, sliding the papers over to the boy. "Where's your boss?"

"Probably smoking or something," the boy chuckled, then stopped and looked at Hero with a nervously apologetic expression. "I shouldn't have- you weren't meant to know."

Hero shook her head and said, "I don't care about my colleagues personal habits, but can you get him for me?"

The boy nodded and rushed off, returning later with a stern looking man.

"Superhero," Hero acknowledged, nodding slightly. He smiled then looked at the papers on the desk.

"Are these about..." He looked up at Hero.

"The new villain, yes," Hero finished his sentence, crossing her arms.

"Good, very good," Superhero momentarily flipped through them. In that silence, a thought bubbled up in Hero's mind.

"How's Villain?" She asked. "It's been awhile."

Superhero's face paled, as his toe nervously tapped the floor. Hero raised an eyebrow.

"We've had some... issues, so Villain is spending sometime in detention," Superhero said. He coughed, then said in an overly joyful tone, "Thanks for this Hero, do you want me to escort you to your car?"

"I would actually like to see Villain. Maybe I can, you know, talk to him about his behavior," Hero declined the offer, stepping in front of the papers. Something isn't right...

"Well you see, that wouldn't be beneficial. If anything it would be detrimental towards Villain's... redemption," Superhero pointed out, unconsciously chewing at his lip.

"We aren't a redemption center, Superhero," Hero said quietly, almost a whisper. "Let me see Villain or-" Hero grabbed the papers and proceeded to rip them "- these aren't your's."

Superhero rushed forward, putting his hands on top of Hero's and slid the papers back towards him. He gave a tiny smile and consented to her request.

They walked down the corridor and then down a couple flight of stairs until they reached a steel door with three locks- all with different keys. Hero watched with a stoned expression, thinking about what would happen if one of those keys were unfortunately lost...

"He's in here," Superhero spoke, dancing on his feet.

Hero stepped into the dark room, recognizing the detention cell that she helped invent, and flipped on the lights.

In the corner of the capacious cell, was a huddled figure. His back was towards her, legs spread out. With a pang in her chest, Hero walked up to him.

"V-villain," Hero breathed and crouched next to the figure. Villain whimpered and pulled himself deeper into himself, but his legs didn't seem to be connected to his brain.

Hero gently rolled Villain's head up to face her and nearly gasped when she took in the sight. He looked like a sick, stray cat. Mucus drained out of his nose as vomit spewed out from the corner of his mouth. His half-lidded eyes were bloodshot and had deep eyebags underneath with dried blood coating his cheeks. He had multiple, nasty cold sores all around his lips- or were they infected cuts? Maybe both.

"Why is he in this state?" Hero asked, astounded. This violated so many regulations and rules- the prison could be shut down, many heroes arrested or fined.

Superhero didn't respond. Instead, he appeared at Hero's side and crouched down next to Villain. The villain who didn't even seem to be aware of their presences.

Hero grabbed one of the wrists that were so protectively cuddled next to Villain's chest. He whimpered, trying to resist Hero's touch.

"No," he mumbled. "No no no no. Don't give... m-more... that mm stop." Villain started to breath heavily, his already fast pulse speeding up. With a heavy heart, Hero knew without even looking that he was drugged badly.

"Superhero... why?" Hero squeaked, turning over a wrist to see them heavily bruised and still bleeding from his most recent dose.

Villain started thrashing, but his legs wouldn't move.

"Why can't he move?" Hero asked, running a hand along Villain's shoulder. "Why can't he move his legs?!"

Superhero inhaled deeply then said, "He's very sick, uh... he probably has some sort of infection that makes it hard for him to move his lower body. Maybe, I don't really know."

"You don't even know what's wrong with your prisoner," Hero scoffed in disbelief, dragging Villain's limp body into her lap. She tried not to notice the wetness seeping into her jeans. It would only infuriate her that such a sick person would be kept in a wet and cold cell on top of being drugged daily without any medicines to help kick his fever.

"He's sick."

Obviously.

"I'm taking him home," Hero said, and scooped his way too light form up. His legs dangled uselessly, head falling off towards the side.

"That's illegal," Superhero pointed out. "He is in our custody now."

"And where does our rules permit excessive use of sedatives," Hero said in the same, authoritive tone. "Minimal use only to relax a distressed prisoner and only when necessary. Also, never to the point of unconsciousness." Hero gestured with her head towards Villain's closed eyes.

"And where do they permit us heroes to contain a villain on private property?" Superhero tutted. "Set him down and let me do my job."

"I'll call the authorities," Hero threatened, "and take you to court."

Superhero groaned and threw his hands in the air. That was not a risk he could take.

"Fine," he growled, storming out of the room, leaving Hero in silence other than the slow dripping from a leaky pipe.

She quickly tore off her fleece and wrapped Villain's shivering body up. His eyes fluttered open and he mumbled something incoherently, but that was all as his eyelids slipped closed once again.

Then, she carried his ragdoll-like body out of the prison, down those steps, and into her car.

She laid Villain's limp form on one of the backseats, propping his lolling head against the window and buckled him in. His arms hung lifeless at his sides, legs completely devoid of strength.

With a nervous whimper, Hero sped home.

At home, Hero took a warm washcloth and wiped off the dried blood and mucus to reveal unevenly toned skin underneath. She delicately picked the dry crust off his eyelashes and eyebrows. It was rock hard and the warm water wouldn't loosen it, so she was forced to pull on the tiny hairs. At least he wasn't conscious for the pinpoints of pain.

Hero suddered, thinking about what would happen when he did wake up. Surely, he would keep to his word and hurt her, beating her up for imprisoning him and then of course this newfound dilemma.

She looked down at his sleeping form and sighed. She had him elevated to make sure his airways stayed clear, but his head kept falling to the side and onto the backrest of her daybed. His lips quivered, forming soundless words and pleas.

Hero gently touched his forehead, retreating at the burning heat. His eyes slowly blinked open at the contact, he moaned, and then they rolled back again and closed.

Hero sat next to him for rest of the day, worriedly anticipating his attitude upon awakening. However, as the hours went on and Villain didn't seem to be regaining consciousness too much, Hero realized that they would be in for a roughly long time.

Villain was probably drugged like that the moment he entered that building and judging by his health and state of his wrists, Hero also guessed that there was no care whatsoever during the admission or the aftercare.

Hero ran her fingers over Villain's pale cheeks. His mouth was parted open and he snored slightly from the congestion. Tears leaked from his eyes, irritating the tender skin below. Hero went and grabbed some lotion, smearing the white cream over the red rashes.

Villain jerked away suddenly, curling into himself and protectively guarding his arms. His heavy breathing went shallower and quicker as tiny noises escaped his mouth. Hero sighed and stopped touching him; he was likely trapped in a nightmare.

Hours turned into days, and only then was Villain awake enough to be aware of Hero's looming presence.

Though, his reaction was not what Hero was expecting.

He screamed, shoving himself and his weak form to a corner of the bed and gathering his leaden limbs into a huddled mass of burning skin. He shrieked and sobbed, and watched Hero with wide, exhausted eyes.

"Leave me alone!" He yelled, pulling up the covers in a bade to protect himself. "Please."

Hero never once in her life felt so utterly useless.

She was, like Villain promised she would, paying for her actions.

#villain whumpee #hero caretaker #superhero whumper #hero x villain #drugged villain #sick villain #unconscious whumpee #tw nightmares #smoking mention #delirium #forced sedation #threats #threatening #paralysis #heros and villains #captivity whump

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cr-noble-writes · 6 months

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wip meme: I shouldn't hope to know :)

I Shouldn't Hope to Know is my Magic Regency mShenko AU. I don't have much actually written for it because I got distracted lol

“Welcome back, Commander Shepard,” Councilor Tevos says, her calm, cool tones reverberating through the room though she speaks softly. “We appreciate your swift response to our request.” Shepard looks up with steel in his gaze. “As I am currently an instructor, I thought perhaps your… request might be for a personal education on the meaning of the word ‘retired’, Madame Councilor.” Garrus winces. It has been some time since he heard someone speak that way to the Council. It was Shepard last time, as well. The man has never been particularly patient with those who wield people like tools, and Garrus cannot say he disagrees. Councilors Sparatus and Udina glare at Shepard, but otherwise do not react to the flagrant insult. Tevos smiles. “I will not dally with your time or ours, Commander. An Alliance unit led by Admiral Kahoku has vanished. We believe you are particularly well-suited to the task of locating the Admiral.” “That cannot be the full extent of your reason for summoning me.” His face is pinched. Knowing he was coming, the Council ought to have provided somewhere for him to sit while they spoke to him. It’s tempting to consider the idea that it’s some sort of power play, but it’s more likely they simply did not give it any thought at all. Shepard, of course, won’t ask no matter how much pain he’s in. Stubborn to the point of being a detriment to himself, and he always has been. “You have the right of it. Admiral Kahoku and his men were investigating Cerberus when he disappeared." Garrus would have thought Shepard’s grip on his cane couldn't get any tighter, and he'd have been wrong. His knuckles, already impossibly pale, look like bone might burst through skin at any moment from the sheer force of it. Garrus knew the Council had been looking into the admiral's disappearance. That Cerberus may be involved is entirely new information. It does explain why they wanted Shepard. "And you believe I am particularly knowledgeable about Cerberus." It's really a wonder how even Shepard’s tone is. In his shoes, Garrus would not be capable of that level of control. In fact, it's for the best that the Councilors are so focused on Shepard, because if they looked his way, they would surely see the anger written across his face. Tevos nods. “Given your past encounters with The Illusive Man, there is no one better qualified.” “So that we are all perfectly clear,” Shepard starts, somehow managing to maintain an air of politeness. “You believe a man who is no longer able to use arcana without threat of death, who cannot stand for any extended period of time, who, in fact, cannot do something so basic as writing without trouble, is more suited for this than all of your Spectres, who you carefully chose from the most capable and competent of your membership?” Even the nearly imperceptible clenching of Councilor Tevos’ jaw is an accomplishment to be proud of, but Shepard had always been skilled at finding and exploiting weaknesses. Garrus barely stops himself from smiling. It’s been too long since he’s heard Shepard give someone a proper dressing down. Truly, he’s glad that, for once, it’s not directed his way.

#crnobleanswers #wip meme #ask games #tag games #mshenko #regency au

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