#i know thinking about it isn't good for my personal mental health
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But also some news!
First of all, I wanted to remind you that my pricelist will be updated by the end of the week, so please feel free to message me if you want to take a slot to commission me with my current prices!
Second of all, we got our twitter account back! We ended up deleting that one post that twitter didn’t like (yes, the one that doesn’t have anything explicit or any nudity on it), which obviously sucks, but at least now we can jump back to posting more or less regularly.
And now that this situation is over, I can say about the thing that honestly tickled me: the last person who wrote a callout post on me right before our acc got locked (=the person who very likely caused the massreporting in the first place) got accused of grooming a 13 y.o. and had their account terminated the very next day. What a great illustration of how the fandom climate works, right? Hilarious.
Alright, replies replies. Some about Fellow and Gidel, some about Rook, Idia, a little bit of Lilia and some miscellaneous asks.
Anonymous asked:
wait, Fellow is it a good idea for Gidel to write?? Isn't he illiterate?? (I might be wrong on the writing part, but I'm pretty sure Gidel is said to be unable to speak because he didn't get an education :(, r.i.p to the poor boy)
But look at it, Anon! He clearly writes, and like a typical doctor as well! A highly educated man!
(Yeah, Gidel doesn’t know how to write lol I am not sure if Fellow is super literate either… just like the characters they are inspired by lol)
Anonymous asked:
I want to bite Idia’s thighs but I also want to nibble Lilia’s legs courtesy of your pic of him in those delicious Playful Land tights 😩
(this is about a sketch from ko-fi)
They really are nibbleable… nibbable… one would want to nib on them. And Lilia knows that :(
Thank you <3
irregardlessly-tish asked:
Since you started posting Fellow art I said to myself "I guess I'm watching that event now so I can look at the art and think yeah, he would totally get gang banged by them" lol
Tish! You’re great as always lol I hope you enjoy it as much as we did.
Fellow is so breedable it’s insane. I can’t help it.
unofficialwheatdog asked:
I'm gonna snatch Fellow away from everyone
Like that my husband, he fluffiness mine and mine alone
Mwah mwah to Fellow I wove him and the way you draw him
he's too good for them but ruined enough for me(lol me in my possessive era)
Omg real possessive era lol I get it, he really is fluffy to the point of leaving one speechless. But please understand, these boys can’t hold back at all… :( Be kinder them, they can’t help it!
I’m glad you love how I draw him <3
Anonymous asked:
Curious, u do non con/ rape art?
Pls tag if yes, I wanna see
I do, but I also don’t remember any recent noncon piece to tag anything lol I am definitely not opposed to it, and a lot of our nsfw pieces have at least dub-con vibes. I guess that one general!Lilia/Idia piece comes to mind first! And octopus!Azul/Idia that I drew for the same zine…
Maybe it would be easier to look through my pixiv logs; all the nsfw pieces are usually closer to the end of the log.
Anonymous asked:
You know I never had interest in drawing nsfw, I started a fanart blog with the intent of just making cute/cool sfw pieces maybe some ship stuff. However I am sick and tired of watching the twst fandom affect the mental health of my friends. And I know at least one of my ships will be threatened even if they just hold hands.
So here’s my plan: if I start receiving hate I will make an announcement: if I reach a particular milestone of hate I will learn to draw nsfw. I will make them kiss harder. Harass me and I will become worse.
Fr tho I want to be the brave idiot in the hope that others won’t feel alone.
Sorry for the late reply! Anon, you are already brave lol I like your plan. Become worse to spite them! And to support everyone who is harassed. And to have fun of course.
I wish you and your friends and anyone else didn’t have to worry about being harassed because of your ships. So please, take care of yourself, but also? Fuck them; draw and post whatever you want to make yourself and your friends happier and enjoy the fandom experience that you and your friends create.
Anonymous asked:
"something's missing..." might be your shirt rook, idk tho 🤔
(this is about this drawing)
Oh no, he forgot his shirt again. And no one at Savanaclaw is brave enough to tell him.
Anonymous asked:
I remember that Savannaclaw Rook only cut his hair with a knife, soooo, yeah. How do you think first year Rook would respond to first year Idia and vice versa?
Honestly it looks like it lol He and Lilia have something in common…
We love first year Rook with first year Idia so much, Anon, you have no idea! And Rook/Idia in general, this is one of the things that I really want to draw properly at least once. For now we only have sketches…
But to answer your question! I like to think that Rook was very intrigued by Idia right away; of course Idia isn’t a beastman, but he is not only super bright and shiny-looking (unusual! Interesting!), but also is a very rare pokemon to see. It’s very easy to picture Rook getting excited and charmed by him, maybe he even had a period of a little obsession~ But of course none of this is in any way returned by Idia; to him being suddenly surrounded by so many loud and annoying people his age is already stressful enough, but Rook is somehow worse than all of them combined. He hates everyone from Savanaclaw, but they’re usually just rude jerks, but Rook? If only he was a rude jerk…
Anonymous asked:
Chen’ya, are you flashing people on purpose? What are you gonna do if someone likes it?
(related to this post)
Knowing Che’nya, he’ll probably disappear lol Never let them guess your next move. They liked it? Too bad. They didn’t like it? Oh too bad… >:3
Sometimes he is in a flirty mood though~
Anonymous asked:
I’m surprised Lilia doesn’t also spank Idia to punish him
He really should, and his spanks wouldn’t be as murderous as Azul’s! Idia is going to receive punishment AND survive!
I can picture Lilia stopping mid-spank with the realisation though: oh right, this isn’t his kid, this is Idia…
Anonymous asked:
(tw: self-harm)
this might be a bit dark but i’m curious: do you think idia self-harms? every now and then, i see ppl draw him with SH scars. i’ve never been able to decide if it feels like him or not. punishing himself, hating himself, wanting to control this one aspect of his life bc he can’t control anything else sound like idia, but also, being too resigned, lazy, or phobic of pain also sound like idia… little nutjob he is 😒 thoughts?
This is such a good question, Anon. It’s honestly still kind of easy to imagine him doing that. He punishes himself constantly, and while I don’t think this is necessarily about control, this absolutely could be about wanting to make himself feel even worse or to distract himself from the other kind of deep pain he’s feeling. Since we’re talking about a character here, as an artist I can also add that seeing him this way could be aesthetically pleasing, there are some very good artworks with this theme.
That being said, we usually tend to think that Idia wouldn’t do that. I agree that Idia being phobic of pain sounds very like him, but also? He is very detached from the physical side of things in general, I think. He would rather torment himself mentally.
Another reason for Idia and selfharm not really working in our heads is that I don’t think Ortho would let him. He is very sensitive to changes in his health condition after all.
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if the medical system ever treated me like a god damned fucking person and listened to me and treated my symptoms and did their follow up tests correctly and correctly billed me... i think i would spontaneously combust out of surprise.
#personal#JFC i can't even ask the urgent care doc what happened to the promised test results bc there's no way to reach him#i am so fucking angry about this#i know thinking about it isn't good for my personal mental health#but i want to fucking murder everyone rn#anger cw
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Does anybody else feel like mental health awareness has done very little to help them in material reality
#i was gonna say done nothing to help but that seemed too harsh#like there definitely is more knowledge about it now. maybe more people feel comfortable speaking about it which is good#but personally i don't feel that. like idk. workplaces will post about mental health awareness and then do nothing to help employees#the same w universities. my uni cut back the already meager mental health support#and then the government is doing absolutely fuck all as well#like idk im just back in a place i thought id gotten out of long ago and i still don't feel comfortable talking about it with people#maybe that's a me problem or maybe it's cultural or something idk. but in the 10 years ive been depressed (🫠) i don't think it's gotten a#whole lot better. teenagers are still dealing with the same shit i did and they're still not being taken seriously#women's mental health is not even spoken about.....anxiety depression sh eds etc are still ignored or seen as hysterical behaviour in women#or just normal esp with disordered eating. society hasn't changed people still want women to be stick thin and weak#like i know 10 years is a short time and there has been massive improvements in mh awareness if we look back over the past 50+ years#but idk i just think that it hasn't gotten better for a lot of people#i think specifically of belfast and like god. the amount of trauma there is the amount of homelessness the amount of substance abuse#drug abuse in particular that has gotten visibly worse over the past decade or so*#and i connect the dots n see the 2008 recession + a tory gov defunding the nhs + dehumanisation of homeless people & addicts + the troubles#+ ptsd + generational trauma + a negative peace + classism + paramilitary drug dealers + parties linked to those paramilitaries#and its like hmmmm i think we live in a society. and a mental health approach based on individual actions like journaling and meditation#isn't the way to go. or at least is not the be all and end all which is what a lot of mental health awareness raising seems to promote#*visibly worse on the streets. it was always a problem ofc but even a decade ago my parents never imagined it would be as bad as it is now#and it's become so normalised. i do think there's less individualism here than there seems to be elsewhere which can be good and can be bad#but i think we are becoming more and more individualistic. slowly. there's still a sense of community here but i do think it's changing#and callousness towards homeless people is one of the most obvious examples of this.#love when i put a wee asterisk in the tags of a post. like i have A Lot To Say lol
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starting to consider the option that i may not be the worst person on earth and i actually may even be p decent. will keep you updated as i find out more information
#you know how after a good week you may have a crash#i'm having the opposite of this rn#had terrible awful 2 weeks of mental health like we're talking being actively suicidal again and having trouble getting out of bed#and now i'm like. i'm fine i'm chill. i'm tired but i give 100% into my work and manage to get excited about things. holy shit?#but also on a personal 'maybe i'm not horrible' level. i think being around people showed me that i'm okay#like. my standards for myself are way too high. other ppl don't judge me like that. they like me a lot anyway#i try hard to be nice and polite and help in ways i can and i don't cause too much of a stir#i feel like i'm annoying sometimes but ppl still talk to me so. maybe i'm only annoying myself#or maybe being annoying isn't as big of a crime as my brain may tell me it is lol#this is very basic surface level stuff i know but. gotta start somewhere ig 😭#anyway. ignore my character development there. hope it doesn't ruin the image of the edgy kicked puppy i usually give off.
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You posted about adhd and I was hoping to follow up to clarify something. I’ve explained to my partner a million times about how the borderline-hoarding mess of his space is very mentally draining to me, and he understands but we’ve both essentially accepted he won’t clean his mess because he can’t because of his adhd. You’re saying he’s actually being a shit head?
This isn't necessarily an issue of him being a shithead, but it also isn't a sustainable situation. It's not good for you and there's a level of clutter that's probably not good for him either.
Large bastard is a lot more clutter-y than I am. The solution we've come to is trying to keep our messes at least isolated from one another; he can have his messes and I can have mine, but he can have those messes in his spaces, not all over the place. Sometimes those messes migrate, and that's when it's important for him to make the effort to rein them in rather than trying and failing to make a daily effort to keep our entire shared space tidy.
I think when you say "we've both essentially accepted he won't clean his mess" what I'm hearing is resignation; you're not happy about this but you don't know what to do so you've thrown up your hands and he feels helpless and unsure of what to do to improve the situation. This is the kind of "it's fine" that isn't really fine.
I think it would be worthwhile for you to each separately think about the mess and talk about it together. Are there areas that YOU *need* to have not-messy? Both for utility and your mental health? Are there areas where you can tolerate more mess than otherwise? Are there areas that are going to be harder for him to keep the mess out of than others? Are there things he doesn't *know* about cleaning up the mess?
I'm obviously a big "communication communication communication" person so I'm going to recommend a lot of talking about stuff, which is probably going to mean a lot of thinking about and interrogating stuff. I'm going to say "talk to him about why the mess bothers you" which means you also have to really articulate to yourself why the mess bothers you (for instance I'm not actually *bothered* by a messy kitchen, but I know it's going to reflect badly on us - and me specifically b/c of presumed gender roles - if someone pops by and the kitchen is a disaster, AND a messy kitchen is going to be harder to use). Genuinely, sometimes knowing *why* something is a problem might make it easier for someone with ADHD to do something. And it's not that he doesn't care that it upsets you, it's just that "Oh if I don't wash my breakfast dishes Anon won't have clear counterspace to make lunch" might be stickier in his brain (and less hard to look at emotionally) than "this thing I forget to do upsets my partner so I should do it."
For the record, I think that people with ADHD should read up on Demand Avoidance and see if it might explain some of the issues that they have in their day-to-day life; I've seen some really unfortunate situations with friends where trying to do things that their partner needed became the subject of demand avoidance. *I* have experienced negative outcomes of demand avoidance. The solution to that, however, isn't to stop making attempts to do the thing OR to simply try harder to do as they're asked/told (which reinforces the demand), it's to work on setting up a situation where the partners' needs are not interpreted as a demand. This is fuck-off difficult and requires a lot of patience and care and many attempts to succeed and will be different for each person and relationship.
(Also for the record demand avoidance isn't *super* strongly linked to ADHD and it's not a definitive symptom; like Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria, it is something that occurs in some number of people with ADHD and can be a useful lens through which to examine various behaviors; you don't need to have DA or RSD to have ADHD, and having DA or RSD also doesn't invalidate your diagnosis; they're symptoms. For me, DA often feels like "if I don't look at it, it can't get me" - If I ignore all the messages I've got they aren't real and don't have real consequences so I'll just ignore my texts. If I don't look at the vendor email about the order, the problem with the order isn't real and it won't get added to my task list. If I don't look at the requests in my inbox I can't let people down when I don't do them. It's a self-protective coping mechanism but it's *maladaptive* and I can't just ignore the vendor email or all my texts. I need to work on a way of doing the stuff that I'm avoiding in a way that makes it less stressful and doesn't hurt the people relying on me. That takes a lot of effort, personal insight, trial and error, and )
But before I dive into specifics I want to be really really clear about one thing: sometimes people are simply incompatible. Sometimes one person has such a low tolerance for "mess" and the other person has such a high threshold for "mess" that it can't be reconciled. It sucks that this can end up being a thing that people break up over, but it is MUCH better to acknowledge incompatibility as early as possible instead of spending years and years building resentment.
There used to be a great forum called MiL's Anonymous that I spent a lot of time on. It had a lot of people in a lot of difficult situations struggling to get by and hold their relationships together. The question that was used as a litmus test to approach each situation was simple: If you knew today that everything about living with this person would be the same in five years, would you stay?
Because you can't control your partner. You can't control the future. You can only control yourself and your proximity to situations that are harmful to you. If you knew, 100%, that things wouldn't get better in five years, would you be okay with staying in this relationship? If the answer is "no," then that's that. Don't worry about questions of whether or not your boyfriend is a shithead, start the process of ending the relationship because there's a good chance the situation is going to be exactly the same in five years.
If the answer is "yes," and you'd stay in the relationship regardless of whether or not things changed, then it's time to take actions to improve your life within the context of the relationship.
(No judgement on that yes or no, btw. If you would hate living like this for another five years, and you would feel like you'd wasted your time and hadn't done the things you wanted to with your life, get out. Bail. Go. It will be better for you and better for your partner if you split instead of spending half a decade building resentments and and problems that you'll have to spend another half a decade healing from.)
Also, a note: you describe your boyfriend's mess as borderline hoarding - is the issue *mess* or is the issue *clutter*? I have friends who are very tidy, but whose homes are very cluttered. They like things, they have many things, they keep many things around, but their houses are always clean and well-dusted and orderly, just with a tremendous amount of *stuff.* I am addressing all of this as though the issue is mess, not clutter. If your boyfriend's situation is clutter (the space is busy and packed with things but it is functional and clean) and your issue isn't with *mess* (things out of place, things not having a place, things that need to be cleaned up gathering in stacks, falling behind on regular chores like laundry and dishes and taking out the trash) then you definitely need to assess whether or not you are compatible.
For instance here's a room that is messy but not cluttered compared to a room that is cluttered but not messy:
That first room is a *mess* but it would be very easy to clean up in under an hour. The second room is fairly tidy, but would take significant effort to pare down and declutter. BOTH of these can be difficult to live with but the second one is not dangerous or threatening to anyone's health. (The second one is QUITE cluttered and if every room in a house looks like this it can be overwhelming to live with; this is actually harder to deal with in a relationship than the first one in a lot of ways. I don't have a lot of advice for what to do if your partner is a high degree of tidy-but-cluttered because I don't actually think it's a problem or wrong to have thousands of books or bins full of lego or a million kitchen appliances as long as you have the space and can keep it safe and well-maintained; this is a really significant compatibility issue)
Okay, all that out of the way, here's the hard work.
Talk about this shit
Talk to your partner and define "mess." Make sure you are on the same page about what you mean when you're talking about what a messy room looks like versus what a tidy room looks like. Gather reference pictures. DRAW reference pictures.
Explain not just that the mess upsets you, but *why* and *how* it upsets you. In this context don't think of it as your boyfriend's mess, think of it as an unpleasant roommate. Discuss this using "I-statements". "When I have to pick up laundry all over the apartment, I feel like a parent more than a partner." "When there are piles of miniatures all over the table, I feel like I don't have anywhere to do things I'm interested in." "When there are dishes in the sink, I feel frustrated because I have to clean before I can feed myself."
Discuss, frankly and openly, whether he knows how to clean. I'm not trying to make excuses for him here but a lot of people with ADHD have a lot of stress and avoidance around cleaning because they spent a lot of time getting yelled at for not knowing how to clean properly.
Discuss your needs, be firm about what you require but willing to compromise. You *need* some spaces to be clean, and some spaces may be harder for him to keep clean than others. It may be MUCH harder for him to keep a bedroom tidy than it is to keep a kitchen tidy; if you need a clean and empty bedroom with everything put away and he simply cannot do that, that is a compatibility issue. But perhaps you need *your* side of the bedroom to be very orderly and can tolerate a moderate level of mess and clutter on his side. Maybe you're really really bothered by a messy kitchen, but it doesn't bug you if the dining table is covered with projects and papers. Figure out something more workable than "his mess goes everywhere and i live with it because he's incapable of cleaning" because he probably is not incapable of cleaning and you deserve to have places in your home that are comfortable for you.
Reduce friction for cleaning
Sometimes the problem isn't cleaning, the problem is the many many steps before cleaning, or not knowing where something should go when you are done cleaning. One of the absolute best things I've done for myself for cleaning my space is getting a broom holder and mounting the broom to the wall. Sweeping is now essentially thoughtless. I don't have to find the broom or pull it out from a pile of fans or go scrounging around for a dustpan it's right there on the wall, frictionless. So here are some ways to reduce the barriers to cleaning:
Make sure you and your partner both know how to use your cleaning supplies and know where those supplies are. When I switched dishwasher soap I had to re-show Large Bastard where I was storing it and how it was used, because to him what happened was the dishwasher tabs just vanished one day and he didn't know what I was putting in the machine or the process I used. He sometimes puts tools away in places that I can't see (he's more than a foot taller than me) so sometimes I can't get started on a maintenance project until he shows me where he put the battery pack for the drill.
Consider making a how-to chart to or having him make a how-to chart to keep someplace accessible so he can reference it while cleaning. Goblin.Tools Magic ToDo is great for this. Basically a lot of the time people with ADHD have trouble knowing what to do from step to step even if they've done something before, so having a step by step guide can make it easier (I have notebooks full of step-by-step guides for everything from paying for my tuition to removing licenses for my customers to weeding my yard)
Remove obstacles; don't keep cleaning chemicals in the garage in a box that's behind a stack of parts, keep them in the room you'll be cleaning. Don't keep the cleaning supplies that you use to clean the bathroom in the kitchen. Sometimes this means buying two bottles of bleach solution and two scrubbers and two sets of cleaning gloves but having fewer steps (fetch the windex, fetch the paper towels, fetch the gloves) is often the key to getting things done (open under-sink cabinet and grab windex, gloves, and paper towels that are there instead of in the kitchen).
This sort of overlaps with the next category, which is:
Create Dump Zones
One thing that I've found that seems very different between people with ADHD cleaning and neurotypical people cleaning is that neurotypical people are good at getting to a point where the cleaning is "done." They have checked off their tasks and they have finished and it is over. There are *SOME* chores that are like this (taking out the trash is a binary state, the trash has been taken out or it has not) and some chores are perpetual (horrid cursed dishes) but I think with people with ADHD, some chores that are binary for neurotypicals are actually perpetual chores. For instance "clean off the counter" is not a one and done for me. "Clean off the counter" may involve a three day reorganization project. "Clean off the counter" does not mean "wipe down the tile and put dishes away" it means assessing whether or not I need to make vegetable stock and bleaching three tea containers and reconsidering whether or not the sharps container should live somewhere else and going through the mail and figuring out what needs to be responded to and taking out the recycling and on and on and on.
We have had company at the house for the last two weeks, so I asked large bastard to clean off the dining room table, which is largely a project zone for him. Cleaning off the dining room table meant putting away his meds (and since he's a transplant patient that involves a 30 gallon rubbermade tote), throwing away some trash, and totally reorganizing his workshop. It also incidentally involved picking up a table from facebook marketplace and moving my plants, which has now involved moving my former plant rack outside (moving buckets, finding and organizing planters and gardening tools) and taking the former table to the thrift store (not done yet) and cleaning the rug that was under the former table. So "either the table is clean, or it isn't" isn't really true for us.
HOWEVER "hang on we can't eat until the table is clear so let's drive to Pico Rivera to get that console table right now" isn't a workable plan, so you create dumpzones as areas of holding between the start and the finish of the chore.
A dump zone can be a laundry basket. It can be a craft bin. It can be a back room or under your bed. It is a place to put things that you are going to deal with later because if you deal with them now it is going to derail the thing you are actually trying to do, which is set the table for dinner.
Dump zones are vital to cleaning with ADHD and I recommend them for day-to-day cleaning as well. The day-to-day dump zones might be more for you than for your boyfriend. For instance, Large Bastard works with bullets and he sheds bullets all over the house. I used to get stressed when I found bullets when I was cleaning because are these work bullets? Are these recreational bullets? Are they in testing? Do they need to be pulled? Do they go in the workshop or the office or the garage or does he need these today so they have to stay on the counter? And the answer now is "that's not my problem naughty bullets go in the jar." Which is perfectly sensible because he gets to say "mystery yarn goes in the bin" and "art supplies go in the bucket."
I feel helpless when cleaning a lot of the time. I'm frustrated and lost and I don't know where stuff goes and everything I pick up spins off into three projects in my head and every step feels like a wall to scale. Dump zones help me with that when there's pressure or a reason for cleaning beyond day to day home maintenance. People are coming over? The bedroom is a dump zone, I'll deal with that later. I'm just cleaning up because I need to? Okay I can find a permanent home for this new dish soap.
AS A VERY IMPORTANT COROLLARY TO THIS:
Active projects do not go in dump zones while you or your partner are cleaning. This may mean designating a project sanctuary area like a corner of the table or one particular chair in your main room where a project can be placed so as not to be disturbed. (if my current crochet project ends up in the yarn bin, that may mean that I don't pick the project up for another three months, it lives on the windowsill behind the couch because that's where it'll get worked on)
Do not put things away for your partner, put them in the dump zone for your partner. Your partner has to be the one to put their own stuff away in a way that works for them. I tend to find that this naturally puts a limit on the time stuff sits in the dump zone, because eventually you'll go "hey where's my thing?" and will put stuff away. If that doesn't happen, it's still generally better to have stuff in a dump zone than all over the home.
Do not decide you know what things go together from your partner's stuff and try to "put like things together." The neurotypical urge to put like things together is the mindkiller(j/k). You do not know which things are "similar" in your partner's organization schema and attempting to organize things on your own is going to end up with all of the things "organized" being functionally lost forever from your partner's perspective. Large Bastard's mom would do this and it was infuriating, she'd say "oh I put all the electronics stuff in one box" and she would mean soldering irons, transistors, ham radios, HDMI cables, and cellphone chargers. We are *still* going through boxes of stuff that she "tidied up" when he was hospitalized in 2020 and 2021.
To prevent the need for quite so many dump zones over time, you can work on setting up landing zones and "homes" for projects and tools.
Landing Zones
Landing zones are places where things go when you come inside from doing various things. Sometimes your landing zone only needs to be a tray for your wallet and keys, sometimes your landing zone needs to be a place to take off muddy boots and put a trowel and gloves down before you shower.
To make an effective landing zone, consider what behaviors you're trying to minimize and whether the people using it are ACTUALLY going to use it. For instance I was tired of the corner of my hearth getting cluttered with random junk so I hung up some hooks and put a shelf and a basket there and it became a really effective landing zone for my bag and keys and the mail, but it was VERY ineffective for Large Bastard because it's by a door that isn't the primary door he uses to enter the house. As a result I always know where my keys and bag are but he has trouble finding his keys and wallet. He tends to enter the house through our bedroom and has an overloaded valet next to the door and that's usually where his wallet ends up. Mounting a shelf to the wall above the valet and putting a basket and a hook on it will be a better place for his stuff to land. It's not that he's not using the first zone because he doesn't know that it's there, or because he doesn't care about lost time when I'm searching for my car keys after he borrows them, he's not using it because it's not by the door he uses. That's all.
I have a landing space for when I come in for gardening that's different than the one when I come in from grocery shopping. I have a landing space for when I walk into the dining room instead of the kitchen when I get home.
Landing spaces prevent stuff from piling up all over the place because they are a limited functional space that should be used frequently. Mail ONLY goes in the landing zone. If you have mystery mail or if you're not sure it's safe to toss, you put it in the landing zone. You can't let the mail get piled up too high or you won't have a space for your keys. You can't let the change in your wallet tray get too deep or your wallet is going to slide off, etc., but you also don't just put change on the coffee table or your nightstand because the landing zone is right there.
Homes for items are just what they sound like. They're the place the item goes. It lives there. My meds live on my nightstand. You would not believe how poorly I did with taking my meds on my vacation because they weren't on my nightstand. A while back large bastard lost one of his sets of sorted meds and we tore the house up looking for them because he couldn't find them in his nightstand, which is where they live. *I* found them in his nightstand because I emptied out the entire top drawer (he had only looked on the top layer) and found them underneath a radio and a hammock. Even though they were *hidden* they were in their home, so they were findable. I recently needed ink for an art class. Art supplies live in a dresser by my desk. Ink lives in the art bin or the top left drawer. The ink was not in either of these places (it was on a cabinet in the dining room behind a teacup) so it took me weeks to find it.
Sometimes the reason that ADHD spaces are so messy is because objects have been assigned homes in places that are visible and if they get moved they get lost. This is a genuinely difficult problem that requires a lot of effort to solve and can involve a lot of trial and error for creating a tidy living space. For some people, open shelving and visible storage might be a good solution. For some people, assigning a VERY clear home and inculcating that location by habit is the only way to clean up a space. For some people one very cluttered corner to at least isolate the chaos does the trick (for me and large bastard open shelving doesn't work because anything in one place for too long becomes invisible; that means that I rely on assigning things homes and large bastard relies on having contained chaos and a general idea of where to search but what that DOES NOT mean is that he is clean or tidy. His spaces look like an explosion. But he can mostly find his stuff and do what he needs to do and as long as that's limited to specific places in shared spaces I can live with it; the dining room table can be a disaster, the kitchen cannot).
People organize things differently. It often takes a while for neurotypical adults to settle into an organizational style that works for them and ADHD adults may need to settle into a new system every few months for it to continue working. The cleanup and declutter is most likely going to be a permanent project that is always going to demand some level of attention from everyone in a shared space, but "my ADHD means I can't do it" is not really going to fly. Maybe his ADHD means that he can't keep his space tidy, but it doesn't mean you can't move stuff from shared spaces into dump zones or that he can't do stuff around the house.
If he's insisting that his ADHD means that he can't clean it is possible that he's not being a shithead, he just feels helpless and doesn't know where to start and has adopted the belief that he's a useless piece of shit who can't even keep a tidy space like a grownup because he's internalized a lot of shitty attitudes (hello, my internal monologue about keeping a clean house). But it's also possible that he's just being a shithead.
It's something that's worthwhile to investigate with him. If he's unwilling to make an attempt, then he's being a shithead.
It is also not your responsibility to rehabilitate another person. If he wants to clean and it's something he feels bad about and needs some help and support with the way that someone might need help or support for learning to use a mobility aid, that is fine but you don't have to be the one who gives him that support if it's detrimental to your health, and you don't have to be the one to teach him that stuff if it's not something you're capable of. And if he is NOT interested in working on making your shared living space more accessible for you, that is not your suitcase to unpack and you just have to ask yourself the question from the start: would I stay with this person if I knew the situation was never going to change?
IDK, I'm sure a lot of this reads like "anon you must take on the emotional labor of training your partner to be an adult" but it's really meant to be more of a way of assessing yourself and your relationship. If you created landing zones do you think he'd use them? Would he get angry if you assigned a laundry basket as a dump zone for his stuff while you tidy the living room? Is living with him long-term going to be comfortable for you if nothing changes? Do you have enough of a shared definition of "mess" that you're at least in the ballpark for what counts as a clean house?
anyway good luck, and a reminder to folks that I'm compiling a bunch of adhd resources and other information on my personal website, ms-demeanor.com. It's coming along slowly but it will eventually include stuff like ADHD cleaning tips and how to tackle a hoard, so maybe keep your eye on that space.
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We Care About You (Part II)
The aftermath that follows is a struggle for everyone to comprehend.
Content Warning(s): N/A
Notes: SAGAU; GN!Reader
Word Count: 1k
Previous || Next
Taglist: @silverstarred
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The past few days have been hard for your mind to wrap around.
Ever since that particular incident you had while playing Genshin, you've been extremely hesitant to log back on. Now that you knew all the people of Teyvat were self-aware, you were scared to imagine what they thought of you.
"Have they been self-aware the entire time that I've been playing? Have they always been able to hear my voice whenever I spoke aloud? Do the Traveler and their friends hate me for forcibly controlling their movements and actions like puppets? If that's the case, wouldn't it be better for me to leave them alone without letting them know?"
It doesn't seem like there's any part of your day where you're not thinking about how to follow up with the world of Genshin Impact. In fact, it's gotten so bad for you that some of your friends have noticed your change in mood and asked if anything was wrong.
Knowing that this situation is not only unheard of but also impossible to comprehend for anyone, you simply told them that you were dealing with personal issues, which honestly isn't that far from the truth.
Eventually, you began to worry if some of the people in Teyvat would figure out a way to reach you beyond the computer should you not reach back to them soon. In the past, you would've laughed at such a thought. But now that you've witnessed the impossible, you didn't want to wait around and find out.
"If I'm going to continue playing Genshin, I should at least try and accommodate their needs and wants better."
As much as you didn't want to delay your return to Genshin any further, you felt that researching all of your current playable character's needs, wants, likes, and dislikes took top priority over anything else in your life right now.
...Well...besides your needs and wants.
First, you took note of their favorite and least favorite foods. You would feel pretty bad if you kept feeding them food that wasn't their preference. Especially since characters like Lisa and Ganyu were vegetarians.
Second, you took note of everyone's talents. While you know that some characters had passive talents which gave you extra dishes when cooking or extra materials when crafting, you felt that those jobs should be left to the professionals, such as Xiangling and Albedo respectively.
"Let's see. First off, I should probably remove the people in my party with full-time jobs, as they take priority over exploring with the Traveler. So I should probably replace any Knights of Favonius, Liyue Qixing, Tri-Commission Member, etc. However, that doesn't exactly leave me with a lot of options to choose from. Although Xiangling works for Wanmin Restaurant, she's currently exploring Teyvat for ingredients. I assume accompanying the traveler would be fine with her. Bennett works for the Adventure's Guild so that works as well. But that also leaves me with a Pyro-heavy party, which may pose a problem for enemies such as Pyro slimes..."
However, the more you spent time researching, the more pessimistic and depressed you began to feel. Here you were spending all this effort trying to accommodate to all the characters you've obtained without even knowing if they gave a single thought or care in the world towards you.
"...I never really asked if they wanted to join the Traveler's adventures. ...So...maybe I should just only use the Traveler...?"
You sighed deeply. This was not gonna be good for your mental health.
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Meanwhile...
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The Traveler didn't know what to think.
On one hand, they were happy that [Y/N] was getting some much deserved rest. On top of that, they were also happy that they got to have a break from doing commissions all the time. But on the otherhand...
They were really starting to miss you.
This is the longest that they have gone without feeling your presence and they were starting to worry if they had accidentally scared you off due to that incident.
The incident that revealed Teyvat's self-awareness.
"...You're thinking about [Y/N] again, aren't you?" Paimon asked.
The Traveler chuckled sadly. "Is it really that obvious?"
"Kind of? Paimon thinks that's what everyone is thinking about."
They believe her. Zhongli, Venti, and a few others had reached out to them over the past couple of days for any news about [Y/N]. They were saddened by their expressions when they told them they had no news to give.
..."Y/N..." The Traveler sighed.
"Hmm?" Paimon hummed in thought, "What was that?"
"...To think that was their name all along. And to even think that they may be just as human as most people in Teyvat! It’s honestly kind of relieving when you think about it.
Although they weren't going to lie. At first, they saw [Y/N] as an unknown entity that possessed them to do its bidding. It was scary at first, knowing that neither them nor Paimon were able to figure out a way to interact with or avoid it. However, after solving both Mondstadt's and Liyue's respectable crises and powering them up with newfound strength, they started to see you as a sort of companion similar to Paimon.
"Yeah, even Paimon is starting to miss traveling and exploring with them."
"Is that so?" The Traveler taunted, "I thought that at one point you were trying to prove yourself as the better guide?"
"Hey! Paimon told you already that she has proved herself as the superior guide time and time again." She exclaimed as she crossed her arms.
They laughed. It felt nice to tease Paimon like this to distract them from the lack of [Y/N]'s presence, but they were starting to feel like they couldn't keep this up forever.
"Regardless, Paimon hopes that [Y/N] comes back soon. Everybody will feel a lot better once they do."
The Traveler looked up to the night sky and watched the stars flicker with light. Paimon followed their gaze and gave a sorrowful frown.
"I hope so too."
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Author Side Notes: I had an idea.
But in all seriousness, I'm flattered by all the positive comments, reblogs, and likes from the previous post. I only expected to get around 20 notes since it was my first post but somehow I've ended up at 800+ and counting? It's almost too much for me to handle lol.
As for the rest of this story, I've decided that it will likely take around six parts for me to reach its conclusion. We've got two down so far, so that makes four more to go. Of course, that's only if y'all want to read more.
#genshin impact sagau#genshin sagau#self aware genshin#genshin self aware#sagau x reader#sagau#sagau genshin#platonic genshin x reader#platonic#gn reader#gender neutral reader#genshin impact
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I don't know, I really get tired of mentalities that center around how things are actually good if you just work for them
It's not because I'm some kind of cynic who things nothing ever gets better, it's because I feel they often lack nuance. Sometimes things won't get better without a helping outside influence, and sometimes things just can't get better at all
Sometimes people try their best and still wind up isolated, or have their dreams fall apart, or give everything they have to give and get nothing in return. Sometimes the world falls apart
You don't like that? Then maybe you get stuck in trying to make sure people around you are ok
Don't go pontificating how people are stuck because they need to put the work in and they can't sit around and wait. You've got no idea how hard people might be working. Maybe instead try offering what help you can where you can so you can help people get unstuck
People just constantly keep coming up with new versions of "The Secret", which I find just such a damaging mentality, especially to people with stuff like depression and anxiety
I'm not saying give up all hope and don't bother trying because nothing matters. I'm saying that it is important to keep trying, but I'm also saying sometimes people give everything they have and it still doesn't work out, and we need to focus on trying to help, not giving half assed advice
#don't really like starting shit on other people's posts so I just make my own about my core ideas#but this is something that frustrates me to no end#and it's why since I've managed to get mine; even if I'm still getting things worked out; I really want to help everyone else get theirs#I could have used a lot more help; I could use a lot more help; so you bet that any small chance I get to help I'll try my best to#I work for my shit; don't pretend I don't#let's see you clean out that damn trailer#but that's exactly why I want to help; I want to in small ways be able to be there for people when they're dealing with their shit#and I'm nothing and I'm no one just like most people; so there's very little I can practically do to fix anything#but I'll at least do what I can when I can; even if I'll fail plenty#don't you dare blame people for their isolation; for the dreams that don't come true#I'm no fool; I know if I said this to that person they'd be like 'well I didn't mean it like that' and of course you didn't#but do you know how tiring it gets hearing that shit?#because what you're saying to people even if you don't mean to is their misery is their own fault#and like I've said; do I not fucking do enough to try and fix my situation?#have I not earned the right to at least be hurt and be in pain without being expected to fix that already too?#do you think I'm not trying?#why do you think I make myself slowly keep cleaning?#pointless as it feels I know that where I am still isn't good enough; and if there's a point where I don't feel like this it's forward#I do feel like I have to fix everything myself because no one else will ever help#and truthfully I'm going to have to repair my mental health alone too if it's ever going to get fixed#I am alone when it comes to fixing things; this isn't the inherent human condition; but it's my situation#I'm fucking moving forward as best I can#so you can just swallow your platitudes
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Hellloooo🖤 I’m the anon who asked about the Safehouse story!
My brain, unfortunately, is not nearly as wrinkly as yours so I cannot come up with creative ideas like you 😂 BUT! I have a few ideas? Maybe? If you can call them that lol.
Was the spanking the first physical interaction they had? What did the morning after that look like?
What happens if reader has a nasty mental health episode & tries to hide it from Ghost?
Does the pet thing progress? I think we all know that Ghost has a thing for the pet play. I don’t even care, that’s totally canon for me at this point.
Would you ever consider writing about the general dynamic they have? Like the “rules” Ghost might have for them?
Totally and completely a self indulgent ask from someone who just had to pull themselves out of a nasty mental health episode lmao I’m so sorry please ignore this if it’s annoying or dumb!
shh i love all of these. i have so many thoughts now / prev
cw: dubcon d/s lifestyle. petplay. controlling behaviour. possessiveness. panic attacks. toxicity. noncon collaring. financial manipulation. mention of self harm. brief fluff.
Your thing with Simon is hard to contextualise.
Or even understand, really.
Parts of it are welcome. He asserts himself in a way you haven't found in the nobodies you've hooked up with previous, happy to fuck you dumb if it means you'll surrender yourself completely. Which you do. You listen intently and follow every direction he gives in bed, and as a reward he wrings orgasm after orgasm from your squirming body. You cum more in one week than you have in the past month, never not naked and sore, wrists tender from where he anchors his hand to keep them pinned above your head. You hear puppy more than your own name, at this point. And it's a concerning because– Well...
You don't mind it.
But you still don't like him.
It isn't like you necessarily need to like your partners in order to have a good time, but it certainly helps if you can tolerate them beyond a dick-in-hole condition. Simon is an anomaly in that he is the worst person you know, whilst also serving as the best lay you've ever had.
That is to say, his habits haven't changed. He's a fucking terror to live with. Nightmare flatmate, the type you see strangers complain about on reddit forums or hear in a friends story from their sister's husband's cousin. Not something you would take seriously until you live the experience – now existing as a sore, precautionary tale you'll no doubt be pitching to anyone also considering subleasing their place as a safe house.
Perhaps it's made worse by the sexual element you share. Before, he had just been your average perverse man, stealing clothes and walking in on you in the bathroom. Now, it seems that sleeping with him has given him the go-ahead to push that behaviour to an extreme. He'll pat your ass while you go about your business, or tug your hair when you raise your voice. Treats you like a pet that has yet to be debarked; just a silly, sub-human way of entertainment.
You can't help but feel you enabled it. But no–
The pet play is cute when he's drilling your brains out – and perhaps only because you can't think straight enough to raise concern – but you're not a dog. Nor do you want to be treated like one throughout all hours of the day. The onus is on him for not catching the hint.
But of course, accountability isn't in his lexicon.
Things only get worse from there.
"An' where d'you think you're going?"
You're halfway out of the door when he catches you leaving.
If you had been more iron-willed, you would slip out and scurry away before he can continue whatever spiel he has stirring. Instead, it's instinct to shrivel in on yourself, clicking the door shut before turning to face the behemoth waiting in the foyer.
"Out." You huff, intent on cold-stoning him. But it's a fools game when your opponent in the broad-shouldered lieutenant – for he merely cocks his head, waiting your silence out with more silence, and it's all you can do to bite your tongue against the deluge of excuses that pile up. "My mates thought it would be a good idea to catch brunch. Y'know– to celebrate the start of summer break. It's a nice day out so..." You gesture to your attire, like you have any reason to justify a sundress to some man you are in no way committed to.
But you can read the possessive gleam of his eyes as they take stock of your appearance: from your expensive mules, up your moisturised legs, to the low cut of your décolletage. It's easy to connect it to that look he had when you came back home that fateful night, the look of warning before he'd taken you over his lap and slapped your ass raw.
And for some odd reason, you're compelled to dig yourself out of trouble.
"Hm. It is a nice day, innit?" You nod a bit too quick. He stalks closer. "Lots of people out." Your nod is a little less enthusiastic. He's centimetres away now. "Some bad, bad men too."
He lifts the ends of your dress, slowly. Your next words quiver on their way out your chest. It's alarming to find that they don't sound nearly as assertive as you intend for them to be, not like they do horny.
"Where are you going with this?"
Your skirt pools around your hips now, held up by one hand as the other smooths over with the gusset of your panties.
"You plan on lettin' them have at this puppycunt? Have I not been givin' it enough attention?" He mockingly coos, pressing harder against the mound between your legs. Your knees grow weak. Not of your own accord, but weak nonetheless, and you have to hold onto his wrist to keep yourself upright. "Is tha' it?"
"N-No–"
"No? But that's what they'll think seeing you walk around like this, silly thing. Poor, neglected mutt, they'll say. Don't have a firm hand to keep 'er in line." Simon tuts, releasing his grip on your dress to pull something out of his back pocket. With the way he crowds into you, you can't crane your head to see what it is. "Now we can't have tha'. I spoil my girl rotten, wouldn' you say?"
"Yes. Yes but–"
"No buts, pup. Have ta stake my claim on you somehow." Something clicks. All too suddenly, you're made aware of the new weight on your neck. It tightens against the column of your throat – not enough to constrict your airways, but enough so that it hinders the way you move. "There we go. So pretty like this."
Panic seizes you, the steel fist of paralysis capturing your muscles in a vice-like clutch. Even as Simon pulls away, you're almost scared to find yourself in the nearest mirror. Scared of what you'll find dangling between your collarbones. There's no mistaking the textured leather that presses against your skin, nor the soft clink of metal hanging from it. No fooling yourself that this is all some cruel joke, not with the sick leer of satisfaction that warps his face.
Stumbling, you navigate to the bathroom and blindly turn on a light.
That cruel fuck.
"Simon," Your voice is devoid of the anger you feel roaring through your veins, circuiting through the frenzied stutter of your heart to find new passion. Instead, you sound horrified. Near hysterical, choking on your own pleas as you run back to the foyer. Your hands tug at the collar clasped around your neck, desperately searching for a buckle that will aid you in ripping it off, despite seeing the lock latched right at the centre that tells of its permanence. What's more, he had it engraved with a crude variation of a dog collar tag. If lost, leave alone. Or else count your days. "S-Simon, Simon please. Fuck– take it off. Take it off, take it off! I don't want this, I don't want... This isn't funny. I'll change if that's what it takes. Please."
Snot bursts from your nose, cheeks wet with a hot mess of tears. You can't suppress the hiccups that interrupt your begging like pathetic shots to the chest, or the weak hits you beat across his pecs. If you could, then perhaps he would give your tantrum more weight.
As it stands, you're nothing but a feral creature resisting training.
"Shhh. Pets can' speak. Pets don't cry." His thumbs press to your under eyes, tamping the flow of brine that mark steady tracks from your lashes. "You'll ruin your makeup like this."
"Si–"
He stare hardens into something dangerous. Against your better judgment, you clamp your lips shut.
"That's it. You're s'good when you listen to me, pup." Once he's sure you've stopped crying, he removes his thumbs to instead push one into your mouth. You can taste the salty residue of your tears on his fingertips. "Now, this is the bes' of both worlds, see? You can go see your friends with this on. I know pets need their playtime, af'er all."
You arch your back in protest, but all that does is bring you closer to the lieutenant. He misinterprets that entirely, of course, and a small smile breaks his face like you've agreed to his terms. A heavy palm pats your ass.
"S'jus' so you don't forget who you belong to." He chuckles. "An' if your friends like the idea, then I have a few friends for them."
You make it one block before hightailing back home.
Nothing in you wanted to give that bastard the satisfaction, but he made it so that whatever you chose to do – stay home or leave wearing a symbol of his ownership – he'd end up triumphant. Naturally, then, you opted for the lesser of two evils: to leave his vicinity immediately. Besides, you'd promised your girls you'd see them after going AWOL the past fortnight, and you knew you'd get an earful if you decided to reschedule at the last moment.
You thought you would convince them it was a bet. That the collar is just some silly joke you have to bear for the day after a football match didn't go in your favour.
But you make it one block before a tradie on his lunch break catcalls you (you about that freaky ting, beautiful?) and decide to change course completely.
You arrive back at your flat without further incident. Ego stung from the various odd looks you received on your way, but nothing as egregious as being singled out as a freak in the midst of a crowd occurs again.
Still, your hands shake as you push your key into its slot.
Which progress to full body tremors as you turn it in place.
Thankfully, Simon isn't waiting on you on the other side of the door. He sits, manspreading on the couch instead, focus zeroed in on the telly that broadcasts Fulham v Man City. When he doesn't look away, you allow yourself to hope he hadn't heard you come in. But it's a naive pool to place your faith in. Nothing escapes the man, and soon enough, his tone of humoured indifference shatters the silence you've been precariously trying to keep.
"Miss me 'lready?"
A wretched sulk, pit of anger hollowing out anew. You swiftly snatch your laptop from the breakfast bar before storming to your room, making sure to lock the door firmly behind you.
The website is bookmarked. Taunting. Sublet your home as a safehouse for our armed forces. Serve your country and help soldiers find refuge. You would laugh if you weren't so single-minded, typing in your email and password upon being prompted to. You don't have to deal with this shit any longer, nor do you intend to. If you remember correctly, there had been a way to report any problems you face. If you phrase yours right, you might just get Simon pulled from your services.
Good dick be damned.
But when you hit enter to sign in, an error message blinks in red.
Account does not exist.
Which is fine. Shit like this happens all the time. There's no reason to work yourself into a panic, you probably just used the wrong email.
So you try your alternate. Account does not exist.
It feels unlikely, but maybe you'd created it under your school email to give yourself credibility. Only–
Account does not exist.
Your blood pressure is no doubt sky high by now. Other symptoms of stress already start to wrack through you – blurry vision, chest aches, difficulty breathing. Your hands sweat excessively as you dig for the customer care number you're sure exists somewhere, efforts impaired by the ever-present weight of the collar around your neck. You wonder if Simon can smell your anxiety like a predator does its prey. If he's in the other room, salivating, waiting for you to wobble out of your room to go for the kill. Some part of you – a needlessly paranoid part – rests on the conclusion that this is somehow his fault too.
Your phone already rings in an outgoing call once you blink back to the present. While you've been functioning on autopilot, you must have found a number to call that related close enough to your issue.
And your suspicion is confirmed when an automated voice picks up. You are currently... second... in line.
It takes five minutes. When a placating woman speaks up amidst the nauseating music they have queued, you can hardly contain yourself from word-vomiting onto her. Safehouse signup. Lost account. Need to report an issue. Please. It's urgent.
"Okay ma'am. If you could give me your name, I'll be happy to find the source of your problem today." You can't spell it out any faster. "Alright. One moment, please."
"O-okay." You sniffle miserably.
"I see. I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, but it seems that you've been pulled from the program after a complaint was lodged against you. Unfortunately I can't provide more detail than that, but if you need anything else, I would be happy to assi–"
You hang up. The poor thing doesn't need to hear the incensed scream that tears from the deepest parts of you, or the following crack as you chuck your cell at the wall. She'd done what she could. It isn't her fault. It was that self-serving bastard that had you blacklisted from the only thing keeping you financially afloat. It is that that self-serving bastard that continues to occupy space inside your home, despite having no real right to it now.
The tantrum isn't near cathartic enough to unfetter you from your prison of aggravation, and you continue to take it out on everything in your near radius. Your duvet and pillows. The lotion you keep by your beside table. Your own skin, nails piercing into the soft flesh of your palms.
And especially the collar constricting your throat, like vines that tighten at the first sign of struggle.
You have to get this collar off. Even if you fail at everything else, you have to get this collar off.
Scrambling off your bed, you turn your room upside down looking for a bobby pin or a knife. One is unquestionably the safer bet, but you know you'll sit for hours trying to pick the lock that keeps you shackled – so when you find the boxcutter sitting at the bottom of your junk drawer, you immediately take it to your neck.
Just as Simon barges into your room.
You're so far gone, you don't even question how this must look to him. In fact, it doesn't occur to you that you locked your door, and that the only way he could've gotten in is by having a replica of your key. No. You merely twist away from the all-encompassing hold he wraps around your arms, determined to keep the boxcutter away from his confiscation until you can slice through the leather.
But you're crying. Visibly, alarmingly unstable. And Simon's breaths are a little faster than normal, faltering in a way they only do when he's close to climax. He must be worried, which is a funny thought, seeing as he's the reason you're in this mess.
"Alright thas– that's enough of that." He grunts after managing to pry the blade from your hand. You hardly mourn the loss, rather crumbling in on yourself as your sobbing escalates. No longer frustrated, nor determined. Just primed into a suffocating panic attack.
Somewhere in your auditory periphery, you hear the clinking of glass. It doesn't register until he holds a vial of lavender extract you keep under your nose, forcing you to inhale the medicinal aroma. Soon enough, your mouth opens to swallow gulps of unscented air alongside it, and the imposed breathing exercise calms you to a point of blubbering calm.
(For someone so apathetic, you admit he handled that expertly.)
That isn't the end of it, though. Moments later, you're lifted off your feet. He cradles you in both arms as he makes his way to your bed, sitting up against the headboard and placing you on his lap. Safe. Undisturbed.
You say nothing, pressing your wet face into his shirt. For comfort, first and foremost, but the makeup that'll undoubtedly stain the white fabric is an added bonus.
"Know this is hard for y'to understand, pup." Simon begins. "Hard for you ta wrap your head around ownership after bein' alone for s'long. I won't punish you for tha'."
"Y-You don't own me." You accuse.
He shakes his head in response, like your mind is truly as little as he claims. Like you're a dog, complete with two ears and a tail, and he plucked you off the street on the condition that you heel.
If anything, he's the stray.
"Oh, but I do." A large hand rubs circles on your back. Never have you been so conflicted, so torn between leaning in and biting back. "Just don't see it yet, pet. Bu' you will, in time. And in the meanwhile, we'll establish some ground rules to help you adjust."
#do not be a cute girl around this man he will ruin your life#unedited#sorry this took me ages to pump out#tumblr deleted the first draft (?) so i had to rewrite#hate this dumb site#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ‘ghost’ riley x reader#simon 'ghost' riley#ghost#simon riley#x reader#x female reader#call of duty#fanfic#simon riley x reader#ghost x reader
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so! it's been a year since i put never satisfied on hiatus, and 9 years since i started posting it, and rather than make you read everything if all you want to know is "when's it coming back?" the answer is still: don't know! but the answer has also shifted closer to "it isn't" the longer i've spent on break, and i think it's worth being up front about that.
i talked about it a little here a few weeks ago, but the long and short of it is that between taking on better paying work, writing better stories, and looking back at what i'd already done for never satisfied... i just don't think i want to continue it? the year off has been incredibly good for my mental health, and i can't see myself wanting to go back after the two-three years still ahead of me on my current project. that's not to say i never want to return to the characters or the concept, but if i did, i imagine it would be with something completely new, in a different form. after all, i started this comic when i was 21 years old, a lesbian, and a sophomore in college. i am now just shy of 30, a bi man, and overall a completely different person than i was, back when i was writing without a plan and putting all of my insecurities into the comic--insecurities i don't identify with anymore. lord i'm closer to rothart's age than i am to lucy's. hate that
anyway. you have all been extraordinarily kind for following never satisfied for as long as you have, for supporting it as much as you have, and being as patient as you have. whatever form never satisfied takes in the future (god willing, with a more cohesive story structure and A PLAN FOR THE ENDING, WHICH BY THE WAY I NEVER, EVER HAD) i hope to see you there!
in the meantime, as an update on where i'm at with the thing that made me stop working on NS: i finished it! all the pages for Hunger's Bite (if you remember it with a different title: no you don't) have been turned in and now it's just revisions and covers and then........ waiting a year until it can come out. because that's how it is in traditionally published graphic novels! nothing releases for a full year after you finished it! and you're even getting it earlier than was originally planned, because i'm a creature and finished it like three months ahead of schedule. i've also already started thumbnailing the sequel book which i can't talk about whatsoever and will now be working on that for the next two years and then HOPEFULLY the first book will have done well enough that i can sell a third! so you better buy it when it comes out next february!!!!!!
to ease you all into it, i wanted to do a little crossover to introduce the main characters. we have emery, whose design is fully and unintentionally just Seiji Again down to his color palette (but seiji would bully him if they met. like so hard. he's a wimp). then we have neeta, a girl who dreams of travel and cares deeply about worker's rights, and wick, a vampire agent investigating the mysterious and sinister new owner of the 1910s ocean liner emery and neeta call home. he's also gay. but sorry lucy, you aren't his type. you're not mean enough.
the best place to keep up with me these days is probably here, as this first book gets closer to release, i will probably be posting about it a lot. and i will certainly post about it here when there's an official release date and cover reveal! i hope you'll go read it. i really think if you liked never satisfied and its themes, you'll like hunger's bite!
thank you again for reading!!
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What the actual fuck, Larry David.
So I heard about it, but didn't watch it until now. Holy shit it's even worse than I thought. What the fuck is wrong with that guy? Elmo is, like, the best friend to multiple generations of children, and is currently putting mental health and caring for others in the spotlight.
And Larry Fucking David ... did ... that? And thought it was going to be ... funny?
What an asshole. What a stupid, self-centered, tone deaf asshole.
Hey, fucko: First of all, you aren't even in the segment, but you just decided to barge in and draw focus because ... why? You couldn't stand that a puppet brought people together in a meaningful way that you can't? You couldn't stand that your appearance on national television to promote your wildly successful series was delayed for a few seconds while the adults talked about mental health?
I really want to know what raced through his tiny little mind, and why there was no voice or person who spoke up to stop him.
You know who is watching the Today show with their parents? Kids who also watch Sesame Street. Elmo is an avatar for children all over the world. Children who are too small to understand Elmo is a puppet will know that a man attacked him for no reason, and that will frighten them.
Elmo inspired a deeply meaningful and important moment of collective support among disparate people who have been struggling through the traumas of a pandemic, daily mass shootings, the rise of fascism and everything associated with Trump's violence and cruelty.
And shitty idiot Larry David couldn't stand it, for some reason. He had to indirectly tell everyone who opened their hearts to a Muppet that they were stupid, and he thought it was a good joke to physically attack and choke this character who is beloved by children and adults alike.
I've been bored by and totally over Larry David's brand of being an asshole to everyone because they had the temerity to exist around him since the day it started. It was easy to just ignore him. But this thing he did was hurtful, it wasn't funny, and his bullshit non-apology tells all of us everything we need to know about him.
Larry David strikes me as a person who mocks and belittles people who are vulnerable and sensitive, who is cruel because he enjoys it and is untouchable. Maybe I'm wrong, but that's who I see whenever I can't find the remote and he's on my television.
By contrast, Elmo and the Muppets teach and model that kindness and empathy aren't weak or stupid or any of the things people like Larry David and my dad think they are. Elmo and the Muppets teach children to be gentle and kind, to celebrate our different cultures and to embrace all of our complicated feelings.
I hope that, when the dust settles, Larry David's appalling behavior will be a footnote to a larger story about how, for just one day, a Muppet made a difference by helping all of us who are struggling feel just a little less alone and anxious.
A man who would belittle and mock that isn't much of a man at all.
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How Is Your Future Partner Like (Intuitive Reading)
midnights version!! Because I looooooove bluuuuue. This is an intuitive reading, meaning it's not based on tarot but on my own intuition and channeled messages. If this doesn't resonate with you it's ok, this is just for entertainment purpose.
pick a picture or a number very wisely because duh
pile 1 pile 2
pile 3 pile 4
pile one.
Hello pile one, for you I feel this strong sense of responsibility and duty towards your family or your job or studies and I can see you are a disciplined person or are used to taking care of things on your own. I know this should be about your partner but this is the vibe I'm getting from you right now. A lot of pressure for you for sure and you might be a romantic person that is too busy or too stressed to think of meeting people and stuff, you find social situations a little bit tedious too.
Your future partner might be somebody who is just as disciplined as you but they don't feel the overwhelming weight of disappointing people like you might feel. This is a person who takes care of their mental health as much as possible because they know that they won't be able to do a good job if they are stressed or tired, they are very responsible and might have been raised in a more laid-back household so they can allow themselves rest when is needed, or try to do the best for themselves mentally to be good at anything they have to be good at. Your future partner is someone who's charismatic but solitary, they try to present themselves as well put as they can because they like to show off and to look nice, this is someone who understands that looking good is an advantage. I see they're very ambitious and extremely individualistic, their sense of humor is very bizarre and they might do it on purpose to shock people or see what they'd do, this person is actually quite shy and doesn't like being surrounded with people for too long. When you two meet you'll probably won't like them, or feel a magnetic attraction to them that's almost inexplicable as you might think this person isn't your type, they will be attracted to you the second they see you. You two could be colleagues or friends or know each other but the relationship is never close until one day something just clicks. They will be fascinated by you and look up to you too, like they see a role model and a partner, they will feel very protective of you as well, you will feel very seen and appreciated by this person because they'll wanna listen to you and they rarely want to listen to people talk about themselves.
you or them might have these on their birtchart or synastry: Taurus Sun/Ascendant BIG Taurus energy so might be Taurus Stellium, 6th/7th house Synastry, Cancer Sun/Stellium, Water Moon, 11th house Stellium, Sun in 11th house, Aquarius Ascendant, Saturn-Venus Synastry, Venus in 10th house/11th house, Moon-Moon Synastry,
song:
pile two.
Hello pile two, for you I see you are an adventurous person, kind of always doing something, always thinking about a million things like your mind can't get any rest, you are very creative and love to talk about your creations. I know this should be about your partner but this is the vibe I'm getting from you right now. You really are restless in some way, hard time falling asleep and hard time focusing, if you feel something strongly you must do it, you also have a very good intuition and should work on it a little bit more, I feel like you've predicted things in your life people called you crazy for.
Your future partner is no fool, they're just like you. This is a person who is always plotting something and dealing with something, they're hard to get kind of people, is like they live in their own little world and are always looking for the next mental challenge. They probably were raised in a very controlling household or one that didn't approve of their ideas or condemned their kind of mentality, someone who has a difficult relationship with their family but keeps themselves occupied to not think of the hardships of their childhood, somebody who ran away or left their hometown, this is a person who's always been looking for more than what they've been taught and accepted the next challenge with open arms. This person is unusual in the sense they might like to wear baggy clothes or clothes that don't call much the attention, they don't take care of themselves as much aesthetically as they don't mind how they look to outside viewers but also it might be a statement to say "I don't care. I don't care about anything" when they do, they care about everything all the time and that's their ruin for them. They did NOT wanted a relationship when you two met, and might make you go through hard times or make you wait a lot until they confess their feelings, this person has a really hard time not rationalizing their emotions and you throw them off the edge. You are their soft spot, their weakness and they will find themselves, surprisingly, opening up to you like they never did with anybody, they might be just as intuitive as you and see something in you but it's harder for them to understand, you are a very special person and they see something very special in you.
you or them might have these on their birtchart or synastry: Virgo sun/Ascendant, 9th Stellium, Sagittarius Moon/Venus, Gemini Stellium/Ascendant, Venus-Uranus Synastry, Venus in 9th/3rd, Scorpio Sun/Ascendant, Water Ascendant, 11th Synastry, Big Air Stellium
song:
pile three
Hello pile three, for you I see a very explosive or impulsive personality, somebody who's not bending over anyone and who is very talkative, you have a child's heart and are a delight to be around, very extroverted for sure. I know this should be about your partner but this is the vibe I'm getting from you right now. You are unapologetic and know how to have fun, most of all you are a person that always tries to see the positive side of things and won't let bad things ruin your day or night for anything, is hard for you to fall asleep as is hard to wake up. You are also very loyal and compromise yourself to everything you seem worth of it.
Your future partner is someone more reserved and less impulsive, but that doesn't mean they're boring. This person is extremely attractive (hehe) and has a temper for sure, they are just more secretive about their movements and decide their next steps carefully. This is a person that doesn't take themselves as seriously as people think but likes to put in a show for people and likes to be seen as intimidating, they like being a more private person as they'd probably been raised or grew up in a household where their family was untrustworthy, could never take anything seriously or were very dramatic and self-centered. This person is very self-aware and also authoritative, they probably are the boss on their job or everybody trusts them to do things right. They like to wear winter clothes and dark colors, they give me Levi Ackerman vibes for some reason, somebody really intimidating but deep down doesn't give a damn. When you two meet this person is not immediately attracted to you or aren't even thinking of relationships, it's very probable you meet them when they're going through a breakup or a love disappoinment of some sort that makes them not want to engage with you, but you will like them almost immediately and try to get them no matter what. It'll work! Your perseverance and your obvious sexual attraction will make them fold for you sooner than later. I'm going to be honest, this feels like a friends with benefits kind of situation that progresses into a relationship, they will feel intrigued not for the sexual connection but the way you move and present yourself that makes them want to know you more which is not usual since they don't tend to go out of their way to meet people, they will be very impressed and feel like they never met someone like you and will become obsessed with your natural coolness and even the way you dress makes them like you even more. This person will adore you, they are very intense and can be kind of possessive of you as well, if you're into that kind of stuff.
you or them might have these on their birtchart or synastry: Aries Sun/Venus, Scorpio Venus, 8th Synastry, Leo Stellium, Pluto-Venus Synastry, Capricorn Sun/Ascendant, Sun/Venus in 10th house, Earth Mars, Mars-Venus Synastry, Libra Ascendant, 5th Synastry,
song:
pile four
Hello pile four, for you I see someone who's imagination makes them shy away from the world, a very sensitive and sensorial person and you are almost always sleep deprived for some reason you are definitely a night owl. I know this should be about your partner but this is the vibe I'm getting from you right now. You're a person who is used to bend and to give in, you don't like conflict and hate when people fight, your childhood could've been full of arguments and fights so that's why, now that you're older, you tend to give in even when you don't want to, you try to keep yourself busy to not think of sad things but you might be a pessimist at heart. You can be a person that sees themselves as "broken".
Your future partner is just as imaginative as you, but they express it wholeheartedly, they are free and have an almost childish mind, this person lives their truth every day and they hardly try to hide their personality, they might seem careless and immature but are very contemplative people and search for the answer of things always, they love to know and to read and to listen and to educate themselves. Somebody who likes to do well in everything and tries hard to prove themselves to people, this person might've grown up in a chaotic or closed off household that didn't always value knowledge but who's right and who isn't. They can get repetitive or very passionate about a topic, this person is very eccentric and loves to show off how much shit they know but not because they think they're better than someone but to make conversation and gain more knowledge from other people's perspective, they are pure at heart just like you are and can be dramatic or aloof but never mean and never to you. When you two meet the first one to fall will probably be you as you will love the way their mind works and how passionately they speak of their beliefs, you will feel immediately inspired by them but immediately feel left down, assuming they will never like you back. This person will be very shy in front of you all of a sudden and turn into a mess when you're around because they don't do romantic feelings very well, to be honest, your future partner will also feel like they aren't liked romantically by anyone because people might have told them they're weird or not good enough to be a partner, so they will too shy away. This relationship will not start immediately and might take a long time to develop until the both of you realize the other's feelings, and from then you'll try to go slowly but this relationship will feel so exciting it'd be difficult not to be happy about the future. This person will make your opinions valid and make you feel like you matter to someone unlike previous relationships, it will be a very cute and happy relationship for both of you, they will treat you like the most precious thing they know.
you or them might have these on their birtchart or synastry: Pisces Sun/Venus, Libra Stellium, 2th house Synastry, Aquarius Venus, Virgo Venus/Ascendant, Capricorn Stellium, Jupiter-Venus Synastry, Big Earth energy
song:
.
.
.
.
THAT'S ALL HOES! REBLOG!
#pick a card#pac reading#pick a pile#intuitive reading#intuitive pac#pick a card reading#astrology#love reading#Spotify
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my carmy/sydney related thoughts on season 2
i think when digesting this show, it's done more easily when we see who carmy and sydney are as people and how they bring that beingness to their dynamic.
it's interesting to see the takes from people who are troubled by what they saw in this season in terms of their relationship.
i personally thought there was so much fascinating groundwork that was laid.
we knew when molly gordon was cast they were likely trying to introduce a love interest for carmy.
i was not shocked, i was not surprised. i literally expected it.
doesn't mean i wasn't rolling my eyes but i was well aware of what function she would play within the narrative.
but the writing is so sharp that there are a million subtle elements of carmy's character, and what we know about him up to this point, including what was illuminated by the christmas episode.
let's first talk about carmy's choices and behavior where it relates to claire vs sydney and the restaurant.
we know that carmy is awkward, isn't incredibly relationally experienced and has sacrificed everything for his career and specific level of skill.
he'd just been ruminating on expanding his experiences as expressed in the al-anon meeting.
we know this man is intensely grief-stricken and also that he's battling his own mental health.
we also know he's literally been bred from chaos and emotional tumult.
even him not going to his own brother's funeral makes so much sense after that christmas episode.
he couldn't stand to witness what that type of grief had done to his already deteriorating mother.
so he's trying to conceptualize fun.
notice he wasn't trying to conceptualize love or relationships or a partner.
it was literally presented and integrated as fun.
so he runs into this girl he used to a have a crush on and even then, he's not sold because he knows himself, he knows his priorities, his propensities toward self sabotage, etc so he gives her a wrong number.
yet she persists.
so to me, this may seem like a sign to him to give this a chance, do some exterior exploration of something outside of the kitchen and outside of his career and outside of his own neurosis.
so he's just going with the flow. trying to be "normal". not really knowing the content or context of anything. another reason why he wasn't even calling claire his girlfriend.
claire even brings up the fact that they'd hung out so much but didn't actually talk.
which is SPOT on because the audience only actually ever sees them talking about their careers or what they were like as kids/teenagers.
but you know who carmy DOES talk to? hmm, more on that later.
so claire is symbolic of this thing that was pleasant when he was younger, when he was less of this grown conglomerate of anxiety and disarray and sorrow. a part of him that's separate from all of his current worry and fixations and dysregulation.
him saying he loves her so much and that he thinks she's so great actually rings hollow because we, the audience, didn't actually get to see when and where that level of specific emotion or intensity occurred.
so off rip i don't believe him. i don't think about it in the context of if or when he and sydney explore anything, because it feels patently untrue to me.
and completely separate from sydney.
it's not earned. it's not rooted. it's not tacitly valid.
it's fine. it's a good time. it's some laughs and conversation and sex and a nice, normal person he has fond, nostalgic memories of.
and i think it's written that way on purpose!
so him professing this to other people feels like this way to continue digging a hole of his own distraction, his absence, his lack of attention to detail.
i completely understand the frustration that many feel about interpreting this like carmy was essentially choosing claire over sydney.
carmy was trying to have an unfamiliar and different experience and didn't have the depth perception, the self awareness and the internal regulation to recognize he was doing it to the detriment of something so deeply and irrevocably important to him.
as soon as sydney brought it up, he got defensive but then moments later recognized his errors and apologized.
she told him she didn't want to share his attention.
he told her she was absolutely correct and that she deserved his full focus.
what's fascinating about this part is they aren't even explicitly talking about the restaurant.
she says "me" and "i", he says "you".
uh. wow.
now even in the context of JUST the restaurant this is saying ALOT here.
him instantly apologizing and agreeing with her requests means a substantial amount.
carmy isn't an ass because he stood sydney up for the palate cleanser. or even because he went absent when he shouldn't have.
carmy is deeply troubled and wounded and suffering and he was grappling for something else to feel or do or think about besides what he's ALWAYS thought about and done and fixated on.
that's why he's unreliable, that's why he's haphazard and emotionally or energetically messy. he's coping.
that's why he knows he makes mistakes all the time. because he feels like he's a screwup in a lot of specific ways in his life so he's used to it.
he's not being malicious or cruel or even unkind to sydney.
and this isn't an excuse. it's a reason. it's what all the information we have about him up to this point is providing us.
and yes, his timing is godawful.
but he trusts this person so implicitly because he knows how talented and capable she is.
carmy does not know HOW to be a partner, of any kind. where would he have learned that? where would that have been modeled for him?
"this is what you wanted originally and i'm giving it to you."
so let's transpose the way carmy and claire are presented with how carmy and sydney are together.
he literally can't WAIT to hear what sydney has to say. about literally anything.
at any given time.
"say more please."
all he wants to do is listen to her talk. he wants to know everything about her. the personal stuff too, almost especially.
he listens to her so closely. in the first or second episode she loses her train of thought and he repeats everything she just said.
i don't even think it was restaurant related.
he brings up her mother not once, but twice.
he feels like he should have known that sydney lost her.
he wants to pour into and believe in her because he does. he already does.
he's ready to apologize to her because he knows what a mess he can be and often is.
he knows what his anger can do. he knows how he was conditioned and raised in the industry and he doesn't want that at all for her, least of all from him.
especially after she walked out last season.
he's hyperaware of it. he calms down instantly both times she does the sign for sorry that HE taught her.
he has this propulsion to NEED to know what's happening with her in the very moment something occurs.
he did it last season when she quit on the spot and he kept trying to talk to her when she was leaving.
he did it this season when she was frustrated and trying to say goodnight after carmy was actively telling everyone goodnight and to go home, yet he tried to talk to her when she was leaving.
"what?"
"i'm saying goodnight."
he was repeatedly ushering everyone out but because of the look on her face, carmy's like wait, "what's that about, what's happening?"
he can't stand it!
same with them outside last season when he brought her food and asked what was wrong.
if something is up with her, he reacts immediately.
if she's peeved, he wants to know why right away, he wants to know what to do to make it better, how to approach it, what to say, he goes out in search of that information in the moment it's happening.
sydney is his soft place.
he feels very anchored and tethered to her and i believe she feels the same with him.
sydney is his respite. his peace. the thought of her literally calms and stills him.
her being energetically seats him.
we saw it penetrate his seismic and consistent panic in real time.
that was clearly displayed for all of us to witness.
he doesn't want to be cruel or unkind or anything other than present and communicative with her.
i'd venture to say he actually doesn't want anything more than that, besides maybe the restaurant to succeed.
now sydney is in her "i have something to prove" era.
she is so driven and so determined but she's also a realist and is inundated and surrounded by all this proof that what she's doing may be foolhardy.
at the very least, it's incredibly risky. it's a jump.
and someone deeply ambitious and creative and tuned in and focused like sydney has such fear of failure.
because she knows what it often means for someone like her.
that's why she overextends herself so continuously.
she's often had to and she thinks it gets her closer to the opposite of failure.
she was not only aware of the gaps carmy's absence was leaving but also planning this tasting menu with a MILLION things on it because something was gonna be the star because it MUST.
and i think the carmy absence flares a bit of abandonment as well, like he's left her in a lurch.
she has feelings about that.
she finds out why he did, and TRIES not to have feelings about that.
that's confusing and she's already beyond stressed out so she tries to stuff it.
her success is so tied to her identity because she's worked so hard to get where she is and still feels like she's not where she wants to be.
so she wrestles with worthiness and worry and the financial climate of affability for restaurants. she's riddled with what if she can't hack it?
she has evidence of that being true in the past.
she has evidence of her past failures and those are what keep her up at night, not the infinite possibilities of her future successes.
and that's also why she picked carmy.
because she was always going to pick the best.
she was always going to follow the career and moves of the standout in the industry.
of the person that made the best meal she's ever had.
so if he's anal retentive or jumpy or doesn't call about changing the structural elements of their restaurant while it's happening, she deals with it because she picked him.
she chose him. and then he chose her.
(and then she lightweight chose him again when she came back)
so that's why when they're talking he so often checks in by looking her in the face, scanning her expression. he instantly picks up on something being off or wrong or him being "shitty".
or why when they're under a damn table, despite being peeved or annoyed with his disappearing acts, she lets out the most vulnerable, softest admissions about the perceived necessity of her contribution and future failure.
or why he responds with "i couldn't do it without you" so instantly, so rapidly, it's like it's etched in him. that's the quickest response he'd given to anything she said to him the entire season, she barely got the words fully out before he was verbally soothing her.
then he STAMPS this by saying "i wouldn't WANT to do this without you."
there was such an unexpectedly, viscerally aching quality to that exchange.
it's honestly searing.
i'm sorry are these wedding vows or are we talking about opening a damn restaurant?
or the way he says "you love taking care of people" to her when she talks about making sugar food.
that's also a stellar mirrored moment because i've seen a few people, i believe @eatandsleepwell is one, talk a lot about how that's one of carmy's main drivers and internal tenants.
they see so much of themselves in each other.
the buried parts, the unknown parts, the odd parts.
the parts they wanna work on. the parts they wanna exalt.
they are so similar. they are also quite different.
they have reflected one another in the narrative since s1 ep1.
they exist so flawlessly within the others interstices.
she wordlessly hands him pepto for his stomach.
he tells her he won't let her fail.
the pulsing undercurrent of sydney and carmy is pretty fucking palpable.
there's people on social media who weren't convinced or didn't ship them last season that have suddenly completely seen the vision.
whether the writers actually go there or not remains to be seen.
i don't necessarily trust that they will or won't to be honest because i know there are so many moving pieces and variables and factors.
ships get bypassed and messed up all the time.
i don't watch any shows for ship guarantees but i know how writer's rooms work.
i'd venture to bet that at least 1/3 of that room DOES have an interest in seeing something happen between carmy and sydney, (maybe even 1/2).
or at the very least the option to have it explored.
different people write different episodes, the showrunner/creator can scratch or add whatever.
scripts are TIRELESSLY edited and shortened.
yet there is alot that makes the final cut that points to the potent carmy and sydney marrow.
him giving her the captain reigns before they served for the first time, her saying 'let it rip'.
to me, sydney walked into that failing sandwich shop with a mission that day, they locked eyes and immediately fused.
something happened to the both of them in that moment and they largely don't even realize or can adequately reckon with its magnitude yet.
#the bear#the bear fx#carmy x sydney#the bear spoilers#carmy berzatto#sydney adamu#tldr#this is literally a dissertation don't feel bad if you didn't read it all
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I'm doing better lately.
I think a lot of my self loathing I've posted about over the years came from this... sense of powerless disappointment in myself. Growing up in special ed, knowing I wasn't a normal kid, knowing there were things I just wasn't capable of... it had always gnawed at my ability to love myself, or even respect myself. When I was younger this lack of respect for myself manifested as essentially giving up on my own wants, and just trying to make myself useful to others. My life sucked, might as well help others with theirs, was the idea. But this led me to just neglect my own mental health for years. It wasn't sustainable.
But even as I tried to correct that, as I tried to take charge of my life by transitioning and getting a job I liked, I ran into pitfalls. As I tried to improve myself, I often ended up overshooting and perceiving any trait that wasn't perfect as a flaw I had to work to fix. It was this high-strung state where if I still saw anything wrong about myself, it meant I wasn't working hard enough. It was all another reason to hate myself. I was stressing myself out, and I was no closer to being rid of my self loathing.
It took time for me to find the balance between who I wanted to be and who I could be. I had to learn the difference between flaws I had to fix to be able to like myself, and "flaws" that were really just personality traits, things that made me who I was. I had to learn that loving myself wasn't about making myself good enough to be worthy of love, but that being worthy of love is something inherent. That self-improvement isn't about proving to yourself that you can do it, but something you do because you owe it to yourself. And that's an easy thing to say, but a very different thing to internalize. It took me some years.
I'm in a better place lately. I like who I am. I'm still working on myself, but I like where it's going. Idk.
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able
(Joel Miller x disabled F!Reader)
Pairing: Joel Miller x Disabled F!Reader
Summary: "I just don't think she'll be able for patrol". But then it's just you, Joel, and your trusty walking stick in the middle of nowhere...
Content/warnings: Reader is disabled (she has rheumatoid disease/arthritis in addition to panic attacks, she uses a walking stick as necessary); Reader had a sister; Reader is an art teacher; strong violence; blood; description of panic attack; references to impact of chronic illness and disability; references to medication; references to disease and death; non-canon compliant; Jackson!Joel; strong language; ableist language and abusive language
Rating: Mature; 18+ MDNI
Word Count: ~3.7k
A/N: After making a plea earlier in the week for people to actually write disabled Reader fic, as opposed to forcing writers to feel they have to tag literally everything in an able-bodied Reader story, I knew I had to put my money where my mouth was as a disabled, neurodivergent writer with various mental health things going on here and there. And this one-shot is the result.
This one is a little personal. I was diagnosed with rheumatoid disease about ten years ago, and Reader’s experiences are informed by my own (though, thankfully, I haven’t had to contend with an apocalypse that meant I couldn’t access the medication that has kept me going). She’s also inspired by @agentjackdaniels, who acted as consultant extraordinaire on walking sticks and panic attacks, and suggested the Joel picture for the moodboard. Thank you, Luce, for this, for fighting the good fight for representation in fic - and for beta-ing the story.
(A note on terminology: rheumatoid disease/arthritis are sometimes used interchangeably. ‘Arthritis’ often sounds like it’s ‘just’ osteoarthritis to people who don’t know the difference. Rheumatoid, unlike osteoarthritis (which is shitty in its own ways), is a systemic, lifelong, chronic illness and an auto-immune disorder that affects the entire body, not just bones and/or joints. So personally I use ‘rheumatoid disease’ as it conveys more of the impact of the condition. It's also often seen as an 'old person' disease but this simply isn't true - not that this stops mobility aids being modelled by people in their 80s all the time...)
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Dividers by @saradika - moodboard by me
You weren’t supposed to make it.
Twenty-odd years in the apocalypse with your fucked-up joints and no steady supply of the meds that kept you going, pushing through the cycles of fatigue, and fighting off your own goddamned immune system as much as you were fighting clickers and raiders.
You really weren’t supposed to make it. But you had Annie.
You were sharing an apartment when the outbreak happened, a quirk of shitty personal circumstances - she’d just broken up with her long-term boyfriend - that probably helped save your life. Annie was the all-action sister - the kind of person who thinks there’s nothing weird about spending your weekends doing triathlons and “Tough Mudder” challenges, who had a perfect bill of health your entire lives, who bounced out of bed in the mornings while you cracked and creaked and stiffly manoeuvered yourself into being.
The good days generally outweighed the bad in the years between your diagnosis with rheumatoid disease and the initial outbreak - or maybe you had just gotten used to the aches and pains and the occasional flare-ups of fatigue. You invested in a walking stick to help on those days when mobility was particularly bad: solid, heavy, and carved in a pale yellow wood. It felt like a comfort in your hand, more a sign of strength, to you, than of weakness.
Annie helped you through the panic attack that consumed you on outbreak day, working with you to regulate your breathing and relax your tense muscles until you could finally say what was on your mind.
“My meds. What am I going to do without my meds?”
Nothing a quick smash and grab at the local pharmacy couldn’t fix. It was the first of many, stockpiling the little yellow tablets you relied on and taking as many packs of over-the-counter painkillers as you could carry. Useful currency in the apocalypse, as it turned out.
All-Action Annie was never going to cope with life in a QZ. She got the two of you out after months of planning, nights of whispered talk about a town out west that was normal - or something close to it, anyway. She hadn’t entertained your protestations about you slowing her down, holding her back.
“You think I’m leaving behind a girl who’s so handy with a weapon?” she’d teased, pointing to your walking stick. “Be real. We’re busting out together.”
The infection took hold in her about three days from Jackson. Fuckin’ barbed wire, tearing a jagged line through Annie’s hand and leaving behind an old-fashioned kind of threat to life, the kind penicillin had mostly dealt with. But that was then. This was now.
She died in an abandoned farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, you holding her hand until the end, talking to her about your childhoods and trying to keep smiling until she closed her beautiful eyes.
It took all your strength to dig her grave. And then, somehow, you found more.
You weren’t supposed to make it. But you did.
Jackson stands before you.
He sees you for the first time in the community dining hall, talking animatedly to Maria as you hungrily devour the food set in front of you. Eyes wide, face grubby, clothes ragged. Half-wild, he thinks, like most of the new arrivals. Like him and Ellie, once upon a time. He returns to his bowl of soup and his own thoughts - at least, until he’s interrupted by Maria.
“Joel? Want to introduce a new member of the community, just arrived.”
He doesn’t quite know why he’s surprised when he realises you’re leaning on a sturdy hand-carved walking stick in a solid, light yellow wood. Maybe it’s because he knows how physically hard it is to get here. Maybe he just assumed folks who needed a stick wouldn’t have been able to manage the journey.
For a second he can hear Sarah’s voice in his head, chiding him for focusing on what a disabled person can’t do instead of what they can.
“Joel?”
He snaps out of his reverie and looks from Maria to you. “Uh, hi. Sorry, just…sorry. Forgot my manners.”
“I was just saying how glad we are to have someone who can offer some art education in the town, isn’t that right, Joel?”
Your eyes are warm and mischievous as you meet his gaze, silently conveying your amusement at Maria’s rather brusque manner. It’s all Joel can do not to laugh.
“Sure is. You’re an artist, then?”
You shake your head. “Not a real one. I was an art teacher, before. Long time since I created anything, though, so I hope I remember how.”
He smiles softly, his gruff exterior receding a little. “Bet it’s just like riding a bike,” he says, before his face falls as he looks at your walking stick. “Oh, shit. Sorry. I didn’t mean… Shit. Hope I didn’t offend.”
“As it happens, I can ride a bike, Joel. The apocalypse just doesn’t give me much cause to.”
You leave him with a smile and a wink as Maria ushers you to meet other townsfolk. He watches you as you walk away, the tap-tap-tapping of your stick beating out a new rhythm in the heart of Jackson.
You think of Annie every morning when you wake up in the little house you’d been assigned. Sometimes, as you potter around the kitchen, still revelling in the novelty of making yourself morning coffee for the first time in two decades, you even talk to her. You tell her about the town, the townsfolk, your work in the community vegetable garden, your art classes.
“Honestly, An, you wouldn’t believe how popular they are,” you tell the Annie who, in an alternate universe, is sitting at the kitchen table with her own mug of coffee. “I’m setting up extra sessions to cater for demand.”
There’s something uplifting in how hungry the people of Jackson are to make art, no matter their experience or existing skill level. They’ll draw stuff from memory, they’ll dutifully work on a still life, they’ll even traipse outside with you, wooden sketching boards in hand, and make rapid-fire sketches of the goings-on on Main Street.
Joel doesn’t join a class - but the teenage girl Maria refers to as “Joel’s kid” does, all potty-mouthed and enthusiastic and pretty damned talented, to boot. Ellie tells you how she’s pinned up the drawings she’s proudest of in their home, “like our own fuckin’ art gallery or some shit.”
You pull up a tall stool and sit beside her, resting your stick over your thighs. “Joel’s got his guitar and those dumbass model figures he paints,” she continues, leaning around her easel and squinting at the woman who’d volunteered to act as a life model for this week’s classes. “But this shit? This is real art.” She adds a little highlight to the woman’s sweater and leans back to assess the work.
“You probably got exempt from patrols, I’m guessing. On account of the stick, an’ all.”
“Maria asked, and I signed up happily. I got all the way here, didn’t I? I’m sure I can manage patrols. And it’s the least I can do - they’ve even found me some of the medications I need.”
Ellie nods, somewhat convinced, and returns to sketching out the contours around the model’s jaw.
The day of your first patrol arrives. You bundle up and set out early for the stables, allowing extra time to get there on account of the flare-up you’d been experiencing the day before.
You arrive early - just in time, in fact, to overhear a heated conversation between Joel and Maria.
“She’s doing enough, ain’t she? I just don’t think she’ll be able for patrol.”
“You’ve seen her out and about, Joel. She’s mobile. She’s competent. She’s good with the horses. She got all the way here, the last stretch on her own. What more proof do you need?”
“You’re seriously gonna send a woman with a walking stick out on patrol?”
“I seriously am. Sent you and your bad back out, didn’t we?”
“That ain’t the same and you know it.”
“Just saddle the horses, Joel. And, in case you’re wondering - yes, I paired you together deliberately, just until she gets settled.” You hear her footsteps recede as she leaves him.
You had misjudged how much your already-limited grip would be further impeded by the gloves you’re wearing. The stick clatters to the ground.
“Who’s there?”
You emerge from the shadows. “Me. Sorry.”
Joel rolls his eyes and gruffly points out the tack and supplies.
The first patrol passes in silence. You wonder what happened to the softer man you’d caught a glimpse of the first day you arrived.
On the second patrol, you ask him questions about himself. On the third patrol, he asks (fewer) questions about you. By the fourth, you’re having something approximating normal conversation.
“Sarah loved to make all kinds of stuff,” he ventures, leading the way on his chestnut horse. “Those beaded bracelets, that girly Lego in the pink and purple, all of that. My girl had enough Magic Markers to supply a whole elementary school. Maybe two.”
You can hear him smile, even without seeing his face. His shoulders relax a little as he recalls the memory.
“So she was a creative kid?”
“Creative, sporty… she could do anything. Made the school soccer team, she was so proud. Just a…” He pauses. “A great kid.”
There’s a few beats of silence, punctuated only by the sound of the horses snickering and the steady rhythm of their hooves on the ground.
“What about your sister, was she arty like you?”
You’d told him about Annie on the last patrol. This was the first time he’d asked about her explicitly.
“She was the sporty one. I think that’s why I survived so long, truth be told. She was so strong and fast and tough as fuck.”
He chuckles, the burr of his voice resonating in the cold air. “Sounds like a good balance, though.”
“It is - it was. Was.” Your voice grows quieter as you repeat the word to yourself, chest starting to tighten. The horse slows, responding to the tension of your body, as Joel continues to trot on, not realising you’ve come to a halt behind him.
And then the tell-tale snapping of a twig, the sound of footsteps, and the realisation there’s someone else there, emerging out of the woods. Two someones.
Raiders.
The panic attack that has been building inside you gives way. An innate fight or flight response kicks in as you roar his name.
Joel turns and charges back towards you, just in time to see you take out one raider with a crack shot from your pistol. He slows the horse and readies his rifle, staring at the other man who is now trying to haul you off your mount.
“Get the fuck off me, motherfucker!” You flail against him, desperately shifting your weight to the other side of the saddle to try to shake him off.
Joel takes aim.
You think you’ve kicked the raider off. And that’s when you hit the ground.
He can’t take the shot now, not with her half-hidden from his view and audibly fighting off the man who’s dragged her to the ground. Joel is still a little distance away, slightly too far to see exactly what’s happening.
Why didn’t he hear her slowing? Why didn’t he realise she was further behind than she ought to be? Why did she slow in the fuckin’ first place?
Joel quickly dismounts, rifle in hand, moving closer so he can get a clearer shot at the guy who’s now standing over her. The horse’s elegant neck obscures the raider’s hands from Joel’s vision - he has no idea if he’s pointing a gun at her or not.
He thinks he has a clear sight on the guy’s head, provided he stays in the same position. He readies the rifle.
Suddenly, the raider disappears, letting out a primal roar before he hits the ground.
“You fucking cunt!”
Joel can see she’s standing now, the man prone before her. As he rounds the horse he sees her lift her cane, hands securely gripping the pointed end of the stick.
She brings the solid, weighty handle down on the raider’s leg with a sickening crunch. Even Joel recoils a little at the sight and the sound.
“F-f-fucking…c-c-cunt!”
Thwack. The other leg.
Fuck. She knows exactly what she’s doing.
”Keep calling me that, and I’ll keep the blows coming.”
Holy fuck. Who is she?
”C-c-c-cripple.”
”Excuse me?”
The raider props himself up on his arms. “I said, cripple. Fucking crippled cunt.”
“You shut your fuckin’ mouth.” Joel cocks his rifle.
The stranger sneers at Joel. “Awww, he’s actin’ the big man now. Weren’t too quick gettin’ back down here to save your cripple woman, were ya?”
Before Joel can react, she swings her stick over her head and brings it down on the man’s skull with a furious scream that seems to come from the very depths of her being.
She screams and screams as she hits him, over and over, eyes wild in her blood-spattered face. Joel recognises this: in himself; hell, in Ellie. It’s the moment when the floodgates open and all those years of pain blend together and zone in on this convenient target, an avatar for everyone and everything who had forced loss and trauma upon you.
He roars at her to stop, but knows she can’t hear him. It’s just her and the raider, now: her rage and fear and grief finding their expression through a walking stick turned cudgel.
A single shot ends it. She turns sharply, as if snapped out of a trance, and sees the smoke leaving Joel’s pistol.
“Hey. Hey. You alright?” His broad hands grip your biceps as he looks into your eyes.
Yes, you tell him, yes. You’re fine. But Joel keeps asking.
“Talk to me. Are you okay? I’m worried about you. Please, just talk to me.”
You are moving your mouth, but no sound is coming out. The familiar vice is tightening around your chest. You look down at your blood-stained hands and you struggle to breathe.
“‘M dying, Joel. Can’t breathe. All the blood. So much. Why can’t I breathe?”
Oh, he realises with a pang. She gets these things too. And I know how to help.
“You’re okay, you hear?” He’s rubbing your arms gently, keeping his gaze on you. “You’re alright. Breathe along with me, okay?”
It’s difficult to find the rhythm, at first. Joel’s hands find yours and squeeze them in time with his breath.
”In through your nose, that’s it. Slow and steady. Now out through your mouth.”
He can see your muscles starting to visibly relax. A wave of relief courses over him.
”Yeah, that’s it - you got this. You got this, good girl, you’re just fine. Gonna be alright.”
When he’s confident your breathing has settled and the panic attack receded somewhat, he gently guides you away from the body of the dead raider, one hand holding your horse’s bridle and the other holding yours.
“Why don’t you have a seat for a minute, huh?” Joel gestures to a long, low tree trunk lying near the forest’s edge and opens his saddlebags, rummaging until he finds a cloth, a battered hip flask and a bag of dried apple slices.
”Here.” He wipes the blood as best he can from your hands and proffers the flask, settling his substantial frame beside you on the log. “Have a sip or two, just to relax you a little bit more. Got a snack, here, too.”
You flinch at the taste of the liquor, but take a second sip regardless. The apple slices barely taste of anything in the afterburn of the moonshine. Joel nibbles on some jerky and stares into the middle distance.
You take a break from patrol, agreed with Maria, and a few days off your art classes. It was tempting to keep going, to return to the light and airy studio and to your students. But you feared a relapse.
And your body needed to recover physically, too. You ached from head to toe, fingers and toes puffy and swollen and movement seriously restricted. You ration out the supply of medication you’ve secured since getting here, and use hot water bottles and plenty of rest to try to ride out the flare in your arthritis.
Three days after the incident, there’s a knock on the door. You hobble to answer it, leaning on your trusty stick for support.
”Came by to see how you were doing. Got you some things if you needed ‘em.”
Joel is standing on your front porch, holding a jute grocery bag. He pauses, as if waiting for you to give him permission to say more.
”That’s so very kind of you, Joel. Come in, won’t you? I was able to set a fire so it’s nice and cosy.”
He watches as you lead the way into the living room, noting how much slower you were today. Guilt laps at his conscience. He said she shouldn’t go on patrol. He knew.
”You want me to bring these into the kitchen for you?”
“That would be a great help. Thank you.” He’s glad to see you smile, after the trauma of the patrol. “If you want a drink, I’ve got some tea and coffee in the cupboard just to the left of the sink.”
He pops his head back into the living room. “What would you like?”
“A tea would be perfect. Mugs are in the cupboard to the right.”
You wrap yourself back up in your blankets on the couch, making room for Joel when he returns with the drinks and a couple of cookies, sent over by Ellie as part of his care package for you. The mug feels like a comfort in your aching hands, its heat assuaging the inflammation ravaging your joints.
He sips his coffee and you sit in silence for a little bit, watching the flames dance over the firewood.
“Have you, uh - you been okay, doing okay, since…”
Joel stares into his coffee cup and then looks at you, a little awkward. You smile, hoping to reassure him.
”I’ve been okay. Just the physical pain and exhaustion, mostly. And - well, you saw it. The panic. It can leave you drained.”
He nods and takes another swig of his drink. “I know. I - I’ve had times like that, too. Real fuckin’ scary, when you’ve never gone through it before.”
You study his face for a moment or two, noting the little scar on his temple, the lines on his face, the stern expression completely undermined by the warmth of his deep brown eyes. For an instant, he seems so vulnerable, this strong, tough man sitting on your little couch.
“I haven’t had an attack like that in a while. But then, I hadn’t done anything like that in a while.”
This time Joel turns to look at you properly. “Not your first rodeo, huh?”
You giggle at the turn of phrase. “Not quite. Let’s just say my stick did a lot of work over the last twenty years. He wasn’t the first to feel the brunt of it.”
Joel nods, and you feel strangely relieved that he doesn’t seem surprised. “Doesn’t get easier, though, does it?”
“It does not. Which is why it’s better to avoid having to do it.”
”I agree. Gotta say, though, I - I was worried you wouldn’t be able for patrol, y’know?”
You arch an eyebrow at him. “I know. I overheard you, remember?”
He blushes. “Aw, shit. Yeah. I’m sorry about that. I just didn’t want anything happening to you, what with your - condition, and all.”
You sigh softly, not really noticing the affection in his voice. “Most of the time, I’m fine. Y’know? I’m slower, but I do okay. I get tired more easily, but I manage. I didn’t come here to be a drain on the community.”
”You aren’t.”
”I know, but I want to keep it that way. I want to pull my weight. I’m able, Joel.”
He huffs in agreement. “Not like I’m a perfect specimen these days, either. Knees, fuckin’ back, deaf in one ear…”
You chuckle. “And you thought I wouldn’t manage patrol? Anyway, you’re not doing so bad, are you?”
He gives you a little smile, but that constant sadness still haunts his eyes. He stares at his coffee for a moment.
“You knew what you were doing, though.”
”I did. But I didn’t feel like I could stop.” You sip your tea, swallowing hard. “And I’m scared that makes me some kinda monster. You know?”
Oh, he knows. He knows it too well.
”You aren’t a monster.” Joel resists the urge to put an arm around you. “You just… something snapped, I guess. All that - well, all that hell you’ve gone through. It… it changes you. But it doesn’t make you a monster.”
He realises you’re crying before you do, spotting the fat tears that roll down your cheeks. He finds a clean handkerchief in his jeans and offers it to you.
Fuck it.
“Can I - can I put an arm round you? Just for some support?”
Your eyes light up, tears or no tears, and you nod enthusiastically. Joel is warm and comforting, his broad chest and strong arms a kind of anchor in the emotional storm. You nuzzle against him, and he gives you a little squeeze on the arm.
”You’re a really brave woman, you know that?”
His voice is quieter, more intentional. You look at him quizzically from under your lashes, unused to praise of this kind. For an instant you think about asking him what he means. But the safety you’ve found in the broad arm draped around you is all you need right now.
You nuzzle a little against his chest, and watch the fire dancing for the rest of the night.
#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x disabled f!reader#joel miller x you#joel miller fanfiction#soft joel miller#disabled f!reader#disabled reader fic#hbo the last of us#the last of us fanfiction#pedro pascal character fanfiction#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal#pedrostories
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hi! maybe a little self indulgent but was wondering if you could write a lil drabble of earthrealm gang x yn (fem y/n if possible) but she’s related to shang tsung in some way (idk sister, daughter if u wanna get real silly) and shes just as pretty but just as mean :3c ty!
author note: In some the reader is the sister in others the daughter. Going for hcs for my mental health :)
Do you like what I write? Consider tipping on my ko-fi!
Johnny Cage:
-He doesn't completely trust you, even if damn, you are hot.
-Like he can't resist flirting with you even if it means getting the harshest rejection ever.
-At this point, it is a challenge more than anything else. Once one of your failed potions exploded right into his face while he was blabbering one of his cheesy pickup lines.
"You are smoking."
"Hot?"
"No, just smoking." You reply, pinching a strand of hair still on fire, extinguishing it.
-You know 99% of boys stop flirting just before getting a date? Johnny's positive mindset won't let him fall for this trap.
-Maybe you'll fall for his loserboy behavior…
Kenshi Takahashi:
-Mh the ex-yakuza doesn't trust you one bit. Even if you never betrayed them.
-It's just that you like lying a bit too much for his liking.
-"I'll keep an eye on you."
You chuckle
"What eye? I don't see any on your face." You shrug his words off.
-Nobody has ever been blacklisted this fast in Kenshi's mind.
-But for real, he'll keep your every step checked ready to attack at any of your missteps.
-"If you like spying on me so much you could take me out on a date so I can answer all your questions." You hear him choking on his saliva before snapping back.
"How do you know I'm spying on you?"
Your eyes widened getting closer to him
"So I was right? You are spying on me? Damn, you must be so down bad for me-"
-The idea of falling one of Wu Shi mountains sounds so good now for Kenshi.
"Come pick me up at 9 p.m. and take me to a nice place it has been so long since I've eaten something nice."
-Seems like Kenshi has a new problem to deal with.
-Also because Madame Bo is the only place nearby…
Kung Lao:
-He doesn't trust you at all, your mother may have been a nice woman but your father is terrible! And with your sharp words, Lao thinks you have taken his personality too.
-"Begone sorcerer! My hat will slice you in two if you take another step closer."
"I'm sure my words have done more damage than that stupid hat."
-Actually, a friendship will develop thanks to your constant fights, not always won by you.
-Raiden better if you stay alert, you have two sly foxes in the temple now
Raiden:
-He isn't as wary as the others, after all you haven't done anything wrong. Being born from such an evil guy doesn't make you evil.
-But damn, you can be so harsh with him at times. More than once Raiden wanted to remind you that if it wasn't for him you would be homeless and a loser just like your father.
-But then Raiden remembers it's actually thanks to Liu Kang if you are there and bites his tongue.
-You are also one of the few people able to make Raiden snap! Most monks never saw such fury before he met you.
-"You should thank me. Weak minds don't last much in battle."
"If you expect me to thank you for pissing me off you'll have to wait your entire lifetime, snotty sorcerer."
Liu Kang:
-When he created this new timeline he hoped a sister could tone down Shang Tsung's evil intentions.
-But at the end he threw you away, treating you like a stepping stone to the road to achieve his goal.
-So Liu Kang took you in. That doesn't mean you will so easily forgive him for his mistake.
-Your words slice his heart frequently. Not because you want to cry about your condition, it's mostly your fault after all, but simply because you like to tease that raw nerve that awakens a usually hidden side of him.
-"Shut your mouth or I'll seal your lips forever!"
"Ohhh-" you coo at his words "But then how I'll latch my lips at your throat? You seemed to like it yesterday." You say, pressing a finger on the spot where the hickey should be, already recovered thanks to his godly nature.
-Liu Kang stomps his right foot on the ground before running out from your lab. How he can love you so much and despise you at the same time is something he still has to wrap his head around.
Geras:
-A saint. You may tease, joke, just be nasty and Geras will reply with the calmest voice ever.
-Liu Kang told him to make you feel at home and Geras takes his job seriously.
-You nagged him a lot about the hourglass, making you take a small peak at it but he never let you close.
-"You are too serious Geras, loosen up a little."
"It's to compensate for your lack of rules."
-You still have to warm up to each other…
Bi-Han:
-He doesn't like you. AT ALL.
-Bi-Han looks at you with a face dripping with scorn. Even if you are taller than him, he'll make you feel like an ant.
-If you tease him too much he'll snap back and won't keep himself from hitting you.
-But if you stroke his ego, promising him strength and glory…
-As your brother told you "If you want men to do what you want stroke their ego and they will be at your feet."
-He also did an analogy comparing the ego to a di- Okay I think the point is clear.
Kuai Liang:
-He doesn't trust you, but if Liu Kang decided to keep you with them he won't oppose his decision.
-Liang will often ask to train with you, mostly to test your skill level and eventually prepare for a future betrayal.
-Also your lab will be often spied, checking if your experiments are safe and good for Earthrealm.
-Till one day Liang found a small card on your desk "Train better your men, I could tell someone sneaked in the first time. Shirai Ryu won't last long otherwise."
-He tightens the grip on the card, rolling it up before throwing it on the ground.
-Liang was the only one that has been spying on you…
Tomas Vrbada:
-He doesn't trust you immediately but he is one of the few to give you a chance.
-Tomas won't be like a dog, following you around and completely trusting you, but he'll be one to bring you a hot beverage in cold winters when you are alone in your lab.
-He answers wittily to your words and rarely he gets dejected.
-"I suppose you won't survive in the Lin Kueis if you had a weak mind or if you are simply an idiot…" You whisper out, Tomas' ears catching your words anyway.
"…You thought I was an idiot?"
-You'd like to reply "Why the paste tense? I still do." but you decide to bite your tongue. You don't mind his company after all.
#mk x reader#mk1 x reader#mortal kombat x reader#mk headcanons#mk1 headcanons#mortal kombat headcanons#johnny cage#johnny cage x reader#kenshi takahashi#kenshi x reader#liu kang#liu kang x reader#geras#geras x reader#mk1 raiden#raiden x reader#kung lao#kung lao x reader#bi han#bi han x reader#kuai liang#kuai liang x reader#tomas vrbada#mk1 smoke#tomas x reader#smoke x reader
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PLEASE I HAVE A REQUEST:
Reader is deathly afraid of physical touch and she’s a student of Jonathan Crane’s. She begins to question whether or not exposure therapy is humane and decides to write a research paper against the idea of exposure therapy and Dr Crane plots against her and finds out her fear, inevitably forcing her to confront her fear with non/con(???)
I’m thinking totally brutal / slow burn and Jonathan is just a full psycho in this, not offering her any mercy. He Def does his research and Def traumatized reader
PLEASEEEEEEEEEE
(because this is just drabbles, I'm not going to be able to flesh this out the way you've envisioned, but I love the concept so I will do something based on it!) obviously this is dark, warnings for kidnapping and threats of noncon
haphephobia - the irrational fear or overwhelming aversion to physical touch.
You were far from the only psychopathology student who got into this line of work due to personal experience. Actually, more often than not, this interest begins for people with their own relationship with mental health-- maybe something as simple as a long battle with clinical depression, maybe trauma or abuse, maybe a history of addiction. You would hope that this made most of the students more equipped, more empathetic; that was true, but it also meant that there was a little more... instability among the cohort than you wanted to admit.
And yet, you hadn't even noticed that the worst of them all was right there in the front of the class, teaching.
"I read your paper," he explained, pacing back and forth, sparing long glances at you. "It was quite good. But your conclusions are weak."
Normally, if you'd been receiving this sort of feedback during office hours, you would just tilt your head and ask 'how so, Professor Crane?'
But considering you didn't even know where you were, strapped to an exam table in some dark basement, you weren't as inquisitive as usual. "See," he continued, approaching you, "if you want to disprove exposure therapy, you can't just do a systematic review of previous literature-- you need to get in the field, experiment yourself."
He lowered his voice as he stood closer to you, leaning over you, looking at you with a sort of fascination and pity.
"After all," he continued, "I'm a... fierce advocate of psychiatric experimentation."
"Yeah," you panted, the initial panic of waking up here fading into a general, steady terror, "I'm beginning to realize that."
"And you're always free to have your own opinion-- I think it's important that my students utilize their right to disagree with me-- but in this case, well, you just can't deny the results."
He was fucking smiling as he discussed it-- he was proud of what he'd done, of what he was going to do to you. "I can," you insisted, "if they're not ethical."
He rolled his eyes. "Always such a good girl," he cooed. "Let me worry about the ethics and you-- you can just worry about what I'm going to do now that I've got you tied up down here, where nobody will ever find you."
Bringing his hand closer to your face, you turned it away with a whimper. "Please," you whispered, "I-- you know I can't--"
"How does it feel?" he asked. "Right now, knowing I might touch you?"
"It's..." you trailed off, struggling to find a train of thought with him so close. "It's anxiety-inducing, obviously. It's dread."
"Filled with dread just because I'm getting close," he smirked. "You're in serious need of intervention, sweet thing. I can't believe you've gone without help for so long."
"This-- this isn't help, Professor--" you began to protest, but you winced as he gently brushed a finger over your cheek.
"You look like you're in pain," he noticed.
"It hurts," you hissed. "It hurts to be touched."
"Hurts how?"
"Like... like I'm raw all over. Like my body is one big burn," you whispered, eyes still shut tight as his hand moved down to gently caress your neck.
"And you've ruled out any medical cause-- an autoimmune disorder, hypersensitivity of the skin?"
You nodded, biting your lip to try to think of something other than the pain he was inflicting-- the pain you were totally helpless to. "There's no... physiological cause..."
"It's all in the mind," he finished for you, "and what a powerful mind you have. You're one of my best students, you know-- it's a shame you're limited by your fear. Fear of the truth, fear of breaking your precious ethics... fear of the future."
Your eyes shot open when his touch trailed down even further, toying with the neckline of your shirt; if any human contact was painful, you hadn't even prepared for the overwhelming anxiety of being touched in a way that had even the slightest sexual undertone. "Y-you don't really think you're that powerful, do you?" you pressed. "That you can take away fear?"
He shook his head. "No, dear, I don't have to," he replied. "I don't take it away-- I use it."
Just as his touch wandered, so did his gaze, and you shuddered under his dark stare as he started to properly grope you; his breathing picked up a bit, his lip twitched-- he even darted his tongue out for a second before smiling again.
"And now," he grinned, "I have you to use, too."
#jonathan crane x reader#scarecrow x reader#jonathan crane smut#cillian murphy x reader#cillian murphy smut#jonathan crane dark fic
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