#my adhd restrains me to write good endings
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Relax 🔞
Pre-Collider Jonathon Ohnn/The Spot x AFAB!Reader
There's no doubt that your boyfriend, Jonathon Ohnn, is a really hard worker.
His work is extremely important and as such he puts the extra effort in anything he does; Its because of this that he is one of the top scientist at Alchemax.
The thing is, when Jonathon focuses on his work, everything else is a secondary task and it means /everything/.
You have to constantly remind him to eat because if you dont, this man can go without eating actual food for days and will try to survive out of energy bars and redbulls.
He has been so absorbed on his work that he sometimes will collapse from exahustion in top of all the papers he has been reviewing.
He also tends to ignore you.
You know its not on purpose but still kinda hurts.
When he gets into a new project, you feel lonely.
You are tired of waking up to and empty bed, eating dinner alone, watching the shows you were supposed to watch together, alone.
Between the loneliness there is also the concern for his well being; How many nights has he stayed up until the crack of dawn, working so much that his eyes are all red?
Has he eating? Drink water? Shower?
Its not only this hyperfocus period but the burnout you know its coming after.
So the next time he announces he will be working on yet, another of his projects, you take matter into your own hands.
This time, this man will relax, even if its the last thing you do.
When you get home, already late into the night, you find Jonathon hunching over some papers. His desk is already a mess: piles of open books and papers laying everywhere, tools scattered around.
You toss your bag and coat to the ground and make a bee-line to him, squeezing his shoulders as you give him a peck on the cheek trying not to disturb him too much.
"Hey" You quietly greet him, giving him another kiss on his temple.
He answers you with another "hey" his lips curving in a quick smile before going back to work.
"Did you eat lunch Johnny?" He nods as you tuck some stray hairs behind his ear, he barely reacts at your touch. "Water?" Nods again. Well at least, he did eat. You sigh "Im gonna go shower ok?"
"Ok, honey" He says without looking at you, writing something on a notebook.
Frustration builds inside you but no matter, this time he will take a break.
You hop in the shower, warm water cleaning the stress of the day away; The soap you choose today is his favourite scent: eucalyptus and lavander, you still remember the first time you used it, how he was all over you, his nose on the crook of your neck.
"You smell so good" You remember how his voice had soften and how his arms around you, holding you close.
You hope it has the same effect this time around.
You wrap yourself with a towel, barely drying yourself, you might want to be a little wet for what is about to come.
In front of the mirror you take a good look of yourself, inhaling deeply.
Honestly you feel a little excited, a familiar tingling forming on your belly.
"Ok, Go-Time"
.
It's about the third day he has been working on this project.
Or is it the fourth? Maybe a week? Jonathon doesnt really know, his perception of time kinda blurrs when he works.
What he does know if its that, if he doesnt finish these schematics tonight he is gonna lose it.
It shouldnt be this difficult.
He sighs in frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose, rubbing the exhaustion out of his eyes.
Its only then when he notices its dark outside.
Oh wow, is it night already? Wait, yeah it is. He vaguely remembers your figure standing next to him, asking if he did eat that day.
He glances over his shoulder, have you got to bed already? Probably, it is quite late.
Guilt strikes him right in the middle.
You always take care of him when he dives on these kind of projects; He knows how difficult he may get, so focused he deliberately ends ignoring you.
But dont you misunderstood! He /is/ grateful for all the help you give him. He notices how you make home-food everyday so he doesnt have to eat junk, or how there's always a filled water bottle near him but far any papers or blueprints he might have around.
You are the most wonderful partner ever, he doesnt deserves you.
"Dinner" He thinks as he goes back at the papers he has been writing. "Dinner on a nice place, a fancy one. Flowers, maybe chocolates? Those black chocolates they like"
Jonathon's mind drifts between his work and plans to apologize properly to you, so focus that he doesnt hear the door of the bedroom opening or your footsteps approaching.
His body shudders in surprise as you put your hands on his shoulders, giving them a soft squeeze.
"Johnny?" You call him "You coming to bed?"
"Hmm? Oh, no. Im so sorry sweetie, I- still have some things to do here." He replies apologetic, crossing something on the margin of a paper and writing another. Honestly there's nothing more he wants that being on bed with you, your soft, warm body entangled with his. He misses you too. "You go without me, I will be there soon" I hope, he adds on his mind.
But instead of going, you put your arms around him, pressing your chest against his back. "Johnny" Your lips brush the shell of his ear and he holds his breath.
"Y-yes, Honey?" His hand trembles as he writes a sidenote.
"You been working so hard lately Hun"
"I- I have! Yes! Im, ehm, sorry about it. B-but! Im almost done! I swear!" He stutters. Its been a while since he had being embraced by you, you smell divine its distracting.
You whine into his ear and he swallows, his cock twitches. "You should take a break baby"
He coughs almost choking, he has stopped writing for a while now. "I-I-I cant, really. I need to- eh finish these"
Surely you would understand right?
"I been lonely Johnny" You whispers, pulling yourself from him and he quietly whines for the lost of contact. However you force him to turn around to face you and his eyes go wide. Oh God. You are only wearing a -rather short- towel, your wet hair framing your beautiful face. "I miss you"
"You have?" His eyes dart on every patch of exposed skin, from your legs to you shoulders, the way is only your arms what is keeping the towel on your body.
"Uh-huh" Your pretty lips accentuate each sound, they look so pretty and pink, he catches himself salivating. "Im tired of sleeping on a empty bed John" You close the distance between you, carefully climbing on him as Jonathon leans back, hands holding the arms of the chair.
"Fuck,fuck, fuck" His mind is speeding, math, formulas and what not already tossed on the back burner, he is already packing a tent on his pants and you havent even touch him.
"I know you are a very busy, bright man" Your voice is like silk, so soft, sending chills all over him "But even bright minds-" Your hands move slowly, removing the towel in a nice, fluid, movement, letting slide to the floor. /OH FUCK/ "Need breaks" You finish, pressing your wet body against his chest.
At this point Jonathon has forgot how to breath.
Every nerve on his body is on edge, his cock its so hard it hurts.
And when he thinks he cant take anything more, you sit on his lap.
You sit /right/ on his clothed dick and you let this sound, this exquisite sound as you slowly, so ruthlessly slow, grind on him.
"Ahhh- f-fuck-" He moans, breathless. His head thrown back, eyes closed, knuckles white as he digs his hands into the arms of the chair.
Is this real? Or did he actually pass out for all the overwork?
"Johnny" His name rolls out of your tongue in the sweetest voice, just like honey, cold hands cupping each side of his head, kindly forcing him to straighten. Out of habit, he leans into the palm of your hand, whimpering into it.
With your free hand, you fix his hair, fingers combing the stray hairs. "Johnny" This time he opens his eyes only to be meet with your naked body, your beautiful eyes staring into his. "Arent you tired baby?" Your hand caresses his cheek, fingers tracing a line until it meets his lips, giving them a small tap. Jonathon can only nod, he has forgotten what words are at the moment. "Dont you want to rest a little?" Your finger drag his lips -ah- side to side, your body pressing more and more into him as you rub his lap.
He nods again, weak sounds coming from his part lips.
"Use your words John"
"Y-yes, I want-oh, I want to-oh god, to relax" His voice cracks, already so weak.
You give him a little smile, leaning completely against him, your lips barely touching his. "Dont worry honey" You whisper, taking both his hands and placing them on your hips "Im going to take good care of you"
Even when Jonathon was waiting for the kiss to come, he still is taken aback as how sweetly you press your lips against his, before giving them a tempting lick. He moans loudly now, opening his mouth and letting your tongue in. He kiss you desperatly, with a hunger he didnt knew he had until now. Every sound you let out its turning him on, hips bucking up, frantic to be inside you.
Your hands find their way to his hair, sinking into his wild locks, pulling it until he cries out of pleasure.
When you break the kiss, he whines in discontent and you cannot help but to chuckle a little, he’s so cute.
You take his hands -at the moment busy grabbing your ass- and slowly drag them all over your body, his big brown eyes following, until they make their way to the edge of your breasts.
"Mmmh" Johnathon whimpers, his thumbs shyly brushing them. He looks at you, asking for permission and how could you say no, really? You giggle and nod, guiding his big hands until each one is holding you. You feel his hips buck again, cock surely twitching inside his tight pants. He kneads them softly, thumbs brushing your hard nipples taking a whine out of you, his hands feel so warm on your body.
"Oh- they are so pretty-Fuck! You are so pretty" Without a warning he pops one of your tits inside his hungry, hot mouth. You thrown your head back, heat already forming on your belly. He sucks on your nipple, while he plays with the other, occassionally mumbling a muffled "so pretty" and "taste so good", he works you so good that you forget for a moment that you are supposed to make /him/ feel good.
Clumsily -the chair creaks and bends very dangerously- you slide your hand to his pants, the tips of your fingers tracing the tent he is packing. When you do, he sucks harder on your nipple and you wail.
Trembling you look for the fly of his jeans, carefully opening them, hooking a pair of fingers on his underwear, sliding them down.
His cock springs free, hitting you in the back.
When you glance over, you see how it gleams, already covered on pre-cum, it twitches needely, the tip red.
Your mouth waters.
You lean back a little, a hand grabbing his hair, his mouth still sucking on you as you wrap your free one around his boner, squeezing it a little.
"Oh-fuck!" He cries, popping your nipple out of his mouth. You dont need to see it to know he has already leave a mark around it. He thrust weakly, moving his cock up and down your hand. "Your hand feels- ah! so good!"
You giggle, he already looks so whipped.
You pump his lenght, thumb rubbing the tip. Your hand slides nicely thanks to all the pre-cum he is oozing.
All the sounds he is letting out, turns you on, you can feel how wet you are, probably soaking Jonathon's lap.
"Please-!" He cries, his chest rising and falling at how quick his breathing is. "Baby, I- I cant! Please! Inside, I want to- ah! Be inside!" And to put emphasis on his need, he thrust his hips again
Honestly, you want him too, now.
"Anything you want Johnny" You say with a sly smile.
Rising your hips a little, you lead his tip to your soaked entrance, rubbing it, one, two times -"¡Honey, please!"- and let it in, slowly, insde you, little by little, until you take him whole.
The two of you moan, overstimulated and sensitive.
You stay still, adjusting yourself to his size, shaking. "You feel so-mnhh! Big!" He feels even bigger than before, already hitting your good spot.
"Can I move?" Jonathon asks, his arms around you, face buried on your chest, legs trembling. "Please, let me move"
He's just too cute when he begs. "Please Johnny" You voice its coated with lust, you want him to ruin you just as much as he wants you to do the same.
He doesnt even waits for you to finish, already pounding you so hard that it makes you scream, surely the neighbors can hear you but you dont give a single shit, let them hear how hard he fucks you.
"Thankyouthankyouthankyou" He chants as he pounds into you, already so pussy-drunk. The wet slapping of his cock sound so obscene, blending with your moans and his whinning. "You are-fuck! so tight! Your pussy is- oh fuck, oh fuck! so good!" He moans against your skin, nibbling at whatever he can put his teeth into.
"Johnny! Oh God! Johnny!" Your voice cries desperate, the knot inside you, growing tighter and tigher. "Im-Im close!"
A gasp escapes from your mouth as Jonathon grabs you from your waist, pulling himself up from the -poor- chair carrying you with him.
He grunts at the sudden feeling of being so deep inside you, a hand swating papers and books and tools off the table.
For a moment you grow worried. "Johnny! Your notes! What are you-AH!" You are manhandle, your body resting against the now, empty table, papers, books, blueprints on the floor now. You are about to protest when he thrust into you, filling you up, making you scream. He feels so much bigger, so much deeper.
"Doesnt matter" He growls, big hands pushing your legs until they are up your ears. "It can all wait, right now, fuck, right now I need to fuck you, I need you so badly!" With renowed energy, he rams into you, taking the air out of your lungs, his balls slapping against your cunt. "So good! So good, ah- for me! Only for me, yes?"
You nod rapidly, bitting your lip. When you look at him, he's nothing but a mess, glassy eyes, lips trembling with a moan.
"Yes-" You pant, its so hard to talk right now. "Just for you, only for you Johnny!"
He grunts, letting your legs go, hands cupping your face as he dips for a rather, needy and sloppy kiss. You hold him, digging your nails into his back, your legs around his waist, bringing him impossibly closer.
He moan into the kiss, his pace becoming more erratic, barely taking his cock out.
He's close.
You bring your lips to his ear and shakely, whisper the magic words.
"Inside, cum inside"
"GNHH!-!" He grunts, jaw tensing. "Oh fuck! Oh Honey! Im cumming, fuck! Im cumming!" He cums between moans and curses, pumping load after load of hot and thick cum, his body on top of yours, your face tucked on the crook of his neck, his hand sinking into your hair. Fuck you smell so good, your pussy is milking him so deliciously good, oh fuck.
You stay like this for a moment, or maybe longer, you are not completely sure. Time flows different when you just get fucked into another plane of existence.
"Are you-ah- ok babe?" Jonathon ask, voice cracking.
You chuckle, kissing the side of his neck. "Perfectly Johnny"
"Ok, good! Im gonna, eh, pull out ok?" You nod giving him the get go. Slowly he gets up already missing your embrace. Your body trembles as he slides his cock out and the moment he does a thick trail of cum follows, spilling all the way down. "Oh. Wow. Thats, wow, a lot" He coughs awkwardly, his face feeling hot.
You glance at him from the table, his face red and eyes wide, surely staring at your sore cunt. When your body pumps out the excess of his cum and you whine, you see his lips move, muttering to himself a quiet: "holy shit".
A tiny smile cross your face. "Admiring your work, Doctor Ohnn?"
He clears his throat, clearly embarrased of being caught, like he didnt fuck your brains out just a couple of minutes ago. "I didnt- Its not like that!"
"Really?" You tease him, spreading your legs further.
He bites his lip, eyes darting between your smug face and your dripping pussy. There really is a lot. "M-Maybe I am" He says, defeated.
Your little devilish smile only grows wider. "I like it, Piccaso!" You say in an exagerated manner, twirling your hand.
Jonathon stares at you dumbfounded before wheezing. "Oh! You are the worst! That was terrible!"
"But you are laughing!"
"Cuz its so bad I cant help but laugh!"
You both stare at each other before bursting into laughter.
You are wipping the tears from your eyes when something catches your eyes.
"John?"
"Yeah?" He says, the remains of his laugh on his voice.
"Are you still hard?"
He abruptly stops, body going still.
You prop your torso up, looking down on him. Yep, there it stands, still as hard and angry red, covered on a still wet layer of cum -both his and yours-.
Its your turn to be astonished. You didnt know he was so- pent up.
"John-"
"Its ok!" He cuts you up, pushing his shirt down to cover himself. "I- I will take care of this myself, yes? Later, in the, ehm-In the bathroom. Right now, we should clean you up"
You frown.
Oh.
You dont think so.
Not happening, not today, nu-huh.
Carefully you get down of the table, your legs shaking.
You take a moment to compose yourself, straigthen your body as you lean into him.
"Sit on the chair John"
He blinks at you, confused but a little turn on. "Excuse me?"
Hands on his hips, you guide him towards the chair, pushing him little by little, until his ass is sitting.
"I told you didnt I?" You say, kissing the mole above his lips -the one you like so much- and trail down his neck, leaving little wet kisses as you go. "That I would take good care of you"
"You dont have to-" He mutters, eyes half-closed.
"I want to" You growl against the skin of his neck, sucking his adam's apple and he sobs. "Besides, I cant let you go like this. Can I?" You wrap your hand around his needy cock, it feels hot on your grasp. Jonathon let out a shaky moan, unconsciously bucking his hips. You smile against his neck. "Relax baby, let me make you feel good"
You kneel down, making yourself home in between his legs.
You feel his hot stare on you and sure enough when you look up to see him, his eyes are glued on you, a trembling hand covering his mouth, the other resting on the arm of the chair.
Oh, someone is eager.
Without breaking eye contact, you give his head a tentative lick. He squints his eyes, quietly whinning into his hand.
You smile, toungue tracing down from his head to the bottom of his lenght, licking the cum clean.
"Ooooh" He moans, he must be very senstive, you feel his cock twitching as you go up again, giving the head a little kiss before wrapping it with your lips, sucking just a little, moving your toungue along the slit. "Oh-fuuuuck"
You push his shaft slowly, saliva dripping from the corners of your mouth. You are not used to have him, to feel him so big like this.
The tip is already hitting the back of your throat.
You feel drunk.
Drunk on his smell, on his flavour. Everything is a little too much but at the same time is not enough; You want him, need him, just as much as he does want you.
You can feel yourself getting aroused again, your pussy clenching, missing the shape of his cock.
Like this, you move your head slowly up and down, licking the rest of his cum along. It taste salty, it taste like him.
Jonathon's legs shake, groaning loudly. "Oh God-" The sounds he lets out are so- enticing. You love when he gets vocal, when he lets himself go and be drown on pleasure. You bob your head a little faster, tongue licking, tasting his pre-cum. He throws his head back, hand placed on your head, keeping you from pulling out. You dont mind, you want him to feel good, really good.
You hook your hands on the hem of his pants, tugging them down until they are in the floor, leaving him completely exposed.
Hands rest on his thights, slowly moving to his crotch where you grab his heavy balls, dragging your thumb by the edges. His whole body jolts up, hips bucking, burying his cock deeper inside your mouth, hot tears form in the corner of your eyes.
You let him fuck your face at his own rythm, your hands occupied with his balls, squeezing them, massaging them.
"Oh God- babe!"
Thats right, you think, let yourself go.
You feel his cock twitch, thrust becoming a little faster now.
"Babe-!" He calls you, breathless. "I think Im-"
Oh you can feel how close he is.
You suck harder, faster.
Jonathon shivers, his whole body at flame. You are sucking him so good, he loves to see your pretty lips around his cock, the feeling of your hands tugging and squeezing his already full balls.
God! He wants to cum so badly!
The moment you moan, your mouth so full of his dick that it comes all muffed, its the moment he loses it.
He cums screaming your name, fists full of your hair and hips thrusting hard.
In an instant, your mouth is overflowing his hot cum, its so much its choking you, forcing you to swallow to be able to breathe.
Your own orgasm hits you, its all way too much, so much that your vision goes blurry.
Its only when you feel his hands go limp on your head, that you pull out.
His cock keep twitching as it softens, a string of cum still coming out of the tip.
Your damn jaw feels numb. A small price to pay, you think, if he's able to relax.
"Johnny?" You say, putting your hands on his thights to help you stand up.
"I fucking love you" Its all he says when he meets your eyes. He looks like he just ran a marathon, sweaty and trying to catch his breath. You smile, taking a sit on his leg, moving his hair out of his face. "I love you so-so much"
"I love you too Johnny" You say back, giving a quick kiss. You glance at his work table, a mess within another mess. Papers and tools on the floor, piles of books discarded. You dont even want to see if any of the papers on the floor had been....stained. "Should we...Clean that?"
Jonathon follows your gaze.
He groans, covering his eyes.
"Not today"
#the spot x reader#jonathon ohnn x reader#the spot#the spot atsv#the spot smut#jonathon ohnn#spiderverse#spiderverse smut#my adhd restrains me to write good endings#i will dissapear now#and take a nap#casmo writes
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tag game from @cadriona~~ 15 questions for 15 mutuals
1. are you named after anyone? uhhh my middle name comes from like, One of my white ancestors, though i don't remember the exact tracing of the bloodline rn
2. when was the last time you cried? honestly not sure, but i feel like it was not terribly long ago. less than a month ago, i think; i can be a crybaby sometimes
3. do you have kids? legally no; biologically also no; but emotionally? the number is fathomless.
4. do you use sarcasm a lot? i don't feel like i'm a terribly sarcastic person, but many other people disagree. just today one of the kids at work asked me why i use sarcasm a lot! i think at this point my habit of "saying ridiculous things with full sincerity and then expecting people to understand that its sheer absurdity means it's a joke (but still actually doing said ridiculous thing if people call it a bluff)" is just hard for people to parse in general, but since i just roll with whatever they think i'm being, it's not a big deal.
5. what sports do you play/have played? this question is so funny bc recently i've been joking that i'm the only non-jock at my workplace, but my coworker in aquatics tried to rope me into lifeguarding for the summer when he found out i could swim, and i did marching band in high school. oh, and i took a fencing course in uni before plague.
6. what's the first thing you notice about people? their jacket, then their hair. if you change both of these things at once i might have trouble recognizing you.
7. eye color? brown. you know how dominant genes are.
8. scary movies or happy endings? for the most part happy endings, but if you're too saccharine about the beginning and middle then i'm going to wish you gave me a scary movie instead.
9. any special talents? i can do calligraphy with italic / oblique pen tips (think gothic blackletter, even tho gothic is probably one of my shittiest hands); i can burp at will still; i can touch type at around 92 wpm (certified)
10. where were you born? in a hospital <3
11. what are your hobbies? good lord that's a doozy these days.
regularly i read n write fic (obviously), play genshin (still), study fandom (specifically the weeb sphere and its history), and code my shrine of cringe neocities. (and also sometimes stream any one of these things to friends)
irregularly i watch youtube, keep a diary, read manga n watch anime, press flowers, do calligraphy, scanlate manga, typeset n bookbind fic (physically restrained by everyone from buying $500 worth of fonts bc Literally no one understands my font disease except other typesetters) mostly, but i have god knows how many other dormant hobbies (arranging music, editing fonts, edit videos, etc.) hiding in the cracks that i should probably just put on a resume by this point. you know how it is with adhd.
12. do you have any pets? not anymore, unless you count [pet] projects, in which case yes, the spreadsheet project abt fandom migrations in particular
13. how tall are you? abt 5'6", more specifically 166.4 cm.
14. favorite subject in school? chemistry, though i english/literature was a close second, and math (aside from geometry and statistics) is still beloved.
15. dream job? someday i'm gonna teach chemistry to a bunch of high school idiots, and i'm gonna love them all so fucking much, and i'm gonna be so fucking happy that i'm still alive.
tagging (if you want!!) @stardust-make-a-wish @reach-4-thesky @cece-0708 @yongnep @kanonavi @krackerka @isnt-it-pretty @yume-fanfare @aranarumei @italiantea and now staring at my mutuals list i have started to lose my nerve so i'll leave it at ten LOL but if you wanna do it too you can just say i tagged you ( •̀ ω •́ )y
#tag game#rousing ancient beasts (mutuals who haven't logged in in ages but i still talk to over discord) w/some of these tags LOL#in high school nat used to roast me abt identifying people primarily off their hair and jackets#i think it's less that i might be genuinely faceblind and more that i don't like staring at people's faces straight-on these days#OMG MY PACKAGE W/THE HEART-SHAPED LOCKET HAS ALLEGEDLY ARRIVED ACCORDING TO THE ETSY EMAIL
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hahaha alright how do you sweet talk teachers i need to know
YES THANK YOU
The most influential factor of sweet-talking teachers comes from your overall reputation in a school and with specific teachers. If you have a reputation for not turning in work on time and not caring about it, and for not putting in effort for anything, it’s gonna be really hard to sweet-talk your teachers outside of specific super dramatic situations. If you have a generally positive reputation, getting what you need with them is going to be a lot easier.
Personally, I have a long-standing reputation for overachieving and getting relatively consistent straight As. This reputation is secured between several teachers through several panicked discussions of anything less than an A. And before every test or exam, I consistently end up asking if there are extra credit questions. Not out of an effort to not fail, but for the chance to get higher than 100% (or to barely scrape my sorry ass out of an A-.) In other words, I have a reputation for sucking up to the teachers (because I can’t socialize with my classmates for the life of me) and for being, and I quote, “a creative kid who gets her stuff done. Gifted, but has some attention span issues.” Can you smell the gifted kid burnout + unmedicated ADHD + undiagnosed autism wafting off of me? /lh
Lying on the spot, and lying in general, is a surefire way to wreck whatever plan you’re cracking. Try to keep the sweet talking restrained to the teachers you have a tight and positive relationship with. They’re the most likely to give you extensions, extra help, etc. Back to lying on the spot specifically, solidify any plans for the time before you have to talk to that teacher specifically. Make sure whatever plans you make fit your circumstances and that they’re believable for the most part. Run through any possible scenarios and outcomes and how you’ll respond to them. If you have to lie at all, keep them to small white lies. If you planning on telling one teacher that you forgot, for example, your laptop at home, so you can’t show them the work you did online, you need to make sure to either actually leave your laptop at home, or keep it hidden in your locker/book bag and make sure nobody sees it. This means other students and teachers. Enough students are snitches to cause problems, and the teachers talk all the time. (AN: Don’t snitch on other students to get in goodwill with teachers. A positive reputation also includes other students. Sweet talking and sucking up to teachers doesn’t involve being a teacher’s pet and a snitch.)
For one specific example, my class was assigned a biology essay and had a week, including class time and a four-day weekend, to do it. This sounds like a lot of time to get the essay done, and I probably would have been able to if I had the executive function to get started on research. But obviously, I didn’t, and here we are, on the due date, and I’ve barely looked at the requirements for the essay. Specific circumstances were the main factor in this situation. The schedules had been weird for the past month or so, and it was starting to take its toll. But track had also started the Monday before it was due, and my everything is still sore. And the iPad keyboards are evil and hate everyone. I made sure to have a conversation with my Biology teacher about this the day before it was due, to plant the idea in their head that I was having technical issues with my iPad. He also agrees that schoolwide iPads were a stupid move. During my Biology period, when they asked if everyone had turned their essay in, I told them that a bunch of unfortunate situations had stacked up onto this one week. They told me that I was good and to just get it in as soon as I could. But that still means I have to write the essay :/
Most of it boils down to your reputation, your relationship with the teachers, and your circumstances. Try not to do this too often, the teachers pick it up really fast. :) 👍
#long post#school posting#shitpost (?)#school has done things to me and im note sure if i like them#it is still doing things to me it is actively trying to vicerally murdwer my creative spirit by means of homework essays tests exams etc#all the bad shit#i dont wanna go to college help#i dont think this applies to college#this is best for highschool idk what happens in college#college sounds scary#last time i put butter in a pan i set it on fire and i had to have my mom toss the whole pan outside into the snow#and one time i put a block of freezer cookie dough on a saucer and put it in the microwave and thought it would work for some reaseon#I’m not ready to live on my own mom pls I’m scared to move out#but wait my mom said i can only have a cat if i move out#fuck#shitpost#whumpy-wyrms
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{Unofficial Game} [Alpha Ushijima Wakatoshi x Omega reader] (2)
PART TWO SINCE IT WAS SO HIGHLY REQUESTED! Seriously thank yall so much i really enjoyed writing this! ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ
PT1: https://haikyuuu-r-us.tumblr.com/post/625077449031548928/erm-okay-so-i-dont-usually-do-asks-fr-like-that
don’t look too closely or you’ll see spots where my adhd brain went apeshit and went off-topic lol
Tag list: @sawamooora
IDK if this is the last part so let me know if you wanna be on the tag list if i add more. It’ll probably be a bunch of cute oneshots after awhile but under the same name.
OKAY SO I GOT A liiiittle carried away (ง ื▿ ื)ว :☆*:･
enjoy!
Ushijima Wakatoshi was a very intimidating alpha.
He wasn't the type to purposefully threaten people, though sometimes, particularly when he felt as though other alphas had ill-will towards him, he'd stand taller, breathe slower, and leave his inner alpha to do the rest.
He had no need to be overly aggressive. He knew his place and believed others should know theirs and stick to it.
Unfortunately, many didn't. Most omegas now were snappy and rude. They believed that they didn't need an alpha, or at the very least didn't want one. Many others would use their omega charms to manipulate an alpha to do what they desired. Very few omegas, like you, are content with the role you presented, and you seemed perfectly fine listening and obeying the alphas around you.
This was where his irritation stemmed from. You were all too willing to keel over for any alpha should they ask something of you. Tendou was a good example of this. He deemed you his girl best friend, and both of you often did things for the other. However, Tendou was an alpha, and sometimes he'd unknowingly put you into an "uncomfortable spot" so to speak.
Of course, you would continue on with what he asked of you, even though the first year alphas seemed to leer at you, even though the coach wasn't too happy about your presence during practice, and even though you knew you weren't entirely welcome. Because he was an alpha, and he was above you in the hierarchy.
It wasn't only Tendou though. He supposed that at least then it wouldn’t be as bad and he most certainly didn't mind your presence, his alpha just wanted to pin you down somewhere and demand you bare your throat to him. He rather enjoyed having your eyes on them while they practiced. He wasn't one to flaunt, he knew he was the strongest on the team.
Everyone knew he was the strongest.
Sometimes though, when he'd slam the volleyball down particularly hard, or when they played against one another, he'd feel an unstoppable desire to unleash all his strength. He knew you were there. He could feel your eyes on him. He didn't need to look at you to get the message across, it was in the air, he knew that you realized what he was doing, after all, you should.
I’m the strongest.
He knew because occasionally, he'd hear a soft shaky inhale. Even if he was in the middle of a spike, he could sense your attention when it shifted onto him and he'd take full advantage of that moment to use his full strength to complete what he was doing, even if it was completely unnecessary. The first year didn't stand a chance, the blonde one that refused to leave you alone after practice. He didn't like his playstyle or his scent.
The blonde tripped over his own feet and ended up landing on his side. For a moment he stayed there but when he started to shift to get up, a growl froze him in his place. On the other side of the net, knees slowly lifting himself up, Wakatoshi Ushijima stood at full height.
He was terrifying.
His upper lip twitched and the dark shadow that had covered his eyes left when he shifted his head to stare down the arrogant first year. The pup had asked for the one on one, and though at first, he told the brat 'no', he kept insisting until Ushijima finally agreed.
There was no reason for the first year to be treated as though he was a serious opponent. There was no reason to play so roughly and with so much strength. There was no reason to snarl at the younger alpha male when he tried to get up, and there was certainly no reason for Ushijima to pin the boy down with a purposefully intimidating stare.
He heard Semi and Goshiki calling at him and asking what the hell was going on, but he didn't break the glare. Defiantly, the younger alpha stood, and even managed to scrape together enough confidence to smirk at the much more superior alpha in front of him.
Just a pup. Didn't know his place in the pack yet.
They weren't really a pack. Sure, they had a leading alpha and other alphas and betas. However, a pack wasn't truly a pack without an omega.
This alpha, however... He was challenging Wakatoshi, not only in front of the team but in front of you. Ushijima felt his inner alpha rattling the bars that kept him restrained. He didn't need to prove himself to this pup. In fact, the pup wasn't the one he desired to prove himself to at all.
The alpha pup grunted and winced when he tried to grab the volleyball that was gradually rolling his way. "Shit." The blonde clutched at his side as the others made their way onto the court.
"You okay man?"
"Shit dude, you hit the ground pretty hard there."
"Stretch your arms above your head, does it hurt?"
Tendou rested a hand on Ushiwaka's shoulder, his appearance amused. Ushijima only watched the blonde as he exaggerated his injury.
"You went too hard on him Ushijima-san. He's a pup, you don't need to prove yourself to keep your rank." Semi sighed out and his eyes moved to the captain, eyeing his expressions and odd behavior.
"Liiiiiisten, listen to me Ushiwaka-kun." Tendou commenced with a serious look. "I wanna kick his ass as much as you do, but getting violent with pups prooooobably is not the best way to get Omega-chan's attention." He whispered the last part with a mischievous grin and pointed towards you whilst wagging his finger.
Turning his head he met Tendou's gaze with a glare that told the other alpha that it probably wasn't the best idea to bring you into this. "He challenged me." Semi sighed and stood on the other side of their captain. "That may be true, but there's no need to accept it. He's a cocky first year, he'll learn his place eventually- Ah, Captain?" Semi's brow quirked upwards when a menacing aura developed around their leader.
His eyes were bearing holes into the alpha pup who sat beside you on the bench. The pup was too close. He was trying to get your attention but your eyes were glued to your sketchbook, only glancing up when he snatched it away from you. His ears picked up the alpha tone in his voice, something completely unnecessary for just asking you to grab some water for him.
Ushijima's eyes narrowed as you shifted away from the overconfident pup to grab a bottle from the cooler to hand over to him. His fingers curled into a tight fist when the pup pressed a finger onto your cheek and muttered something that turned your cheeks bright red. You glanced around nervously, clearly flustered and looking for a distraction, only for your gaze to land on him. Immediately your expression flushed further, however you gave him a shaky embarrassed grin and a small wave to accompany it.
Semis eyes shifted from the scene on the bench over to his captain. Typically Ushijima would've been entirely unaware of that sort of thing. He could be rather dense with social cues, but the fact he recognized that you were bothered and uncomfortable spoke volumes. How long had he been guarding you like that? Semi could only wonder.
"Tch." His alpha was only seeing the way that damn pup dragged your attention away from him. Pouting and asking what you were working on that was oh so important. Your scent was shifting, you were nervous.
Ushijima didn't get into fights. Not even when outrightly challenged. He'd never really had the desire to.
However.
Recently his alpha was calling more shots than he was. Taking initiative and becoming snappy. He felt off and though he knew why he couldn't quite fix it yet. Soon he would, but he wanted to focus on the upcoming practice match with Seirin, an upstart volleyball team that shot through the ranks out of nowhere. He needed to get that match through first. He couldn't afford any distractions.
He usually was cool-headed when it came to other things. He knew exactly what he was doing. There was no need to constantly prove that he was the strongest.
No. Omega isn't happy. Need to defend. Need to FIGHT.
A low rumble tore through his throat.
He didn't have time to torment someone - he needed to train. He shouldn't need to protect his own omega from his pack.
She's mine. Go away. Stupid pup.
"Yo, Ushiwaka-" Tendou began.
"What." He grunted, refusing to look away, keeping an eye on the handsy alpha male.
"How close are you to your ruuuuut? Cuz you look like you're about to skin the pup ALIIIIVEE!" Tendou ended the question in a giggle when Ushiwaka's glare increased on the alpha.
Rut. That's it. That's why he'd been so touchy about the other alphas being near you.
His gaze flipped over to you, and how you were looking more and more uncomfortable with the entire situation. The alpha’s hand relaxed on your thigh while he bent over your shoulder to watch you draw. He examined your uncomfortable expression and the way you attempted to subtly shift away.
Stop touching her.
He finally spun away, death gripping the volleyball Tendou hurled to him. Despite the alpha’s efforts at distraction, he still smelt your high-strung and apprehensiveness. He could tell him to leave you alone, but he didn't want to embarrass you. He had shooed that particular alpha away from you before once, and when the others stared your eyes watered, and Tendou was the one who guided you away.
Tendou later explained in their dorm room that you preferred to deal with your problems out of the public eye. He still didn't fully understand, but he most certainly didn't want to hurt you further, his alpha knew that much.
The match was tonight. He could release his frustrations then.
That was his plan. Bottle, unleash.
It was supposed to be, at least, until he heard a distinctive whine and the sound of your sketchbook and pencil cracking against the polished floors. His head then turned towards you, and there was no way in hell, that pup would have survived had he not had absolute control over his inner alpha, as well as Tendou resting a hand on his shoulder; not holding him back necessarily, just… confirming.
The blonde must've discerned your plan to dart away from him, and when he had moved behind you to watch you draw, he'd taken advantage of the position and now had both hands on you. One on each thigh, squeezing hard. They dug into your leggings and he could see the soft fat of your thighs give way under his firm grasp. His face was inches away from your neck, and he leaned in to whisper something in your ear. You tried to wriggle away, with a whimper and a shake of your head. Ushijima couldn't hear what he said next but your response was what caused both of his team-mates to let him help you.
Your gaze locked onto his own and your eyes, wide and far past uncomfortable, were brimming with tears.
Annihilate him.
He took measured steps, holding your gaze the entire time. Ignoring the warning growl of the Alpha behind you. Slowly, so as to not cause a larger scene for your sake, he kneeled in front of you, reached forward, and seized hold of both of the male’s hands. Forcefully he removed them from your thighs, and without relinquishing his hold, he maneuvered around the bench and closer to the struggling pup. He lifted him up by his wrists and simply let him dangle there for a few moments.
With every second the smaller alpha began to shake and eventually try to apologize. With every word, he tightened his hold.
"He's not the one you should be apologizing to."
Tendou. It didn't sound like he was very happy. His alpha tone and scent were intense, causing you and even a few of the other first-years to tense.
"Shit-ow! Shi- I'm sorry! ACH IM SORRY OKAY!"
Tendou’s eyes narrowed before his demeanor radically changed and he beamed ear to ear. "Okie Dokie then!"
"You should let him go now, captain. I believe he's learned his place." Semi observed.
Ushijima Wakatoshi saw no need to romance an omega. If she was his he'd protect her, and she would learn she was his. There was no need for elaborate gifts and dramatic proclamations of love. However, he wasn't the type to seek out trouble to prove his strength. He wasn't the type to 'hit first and hit hard'.
He was an Alpha that simply knew his role in the pack.
Out. He's out. Not part of my pack. Out. Get out.
He could crack the pup’s wrists to prevent him from competing in volleyball again, and the thought remained too long to completely sweep aside. Outside of school, the move the pup pulled would have gotten him killed. Snapping his wrists would be compassionate.
Instead, he dropped the child to the ground. Clenching his hand instead of kicking him in the stomach.
"Go to Coach Washijō and tell him you're quitting." Your eyes widened at the demand, and the pup didn't waste a moment before lurching to the exit and using the door frame as a support to push him on his way. Scowls were thrown at him by both first and second years as he hurried out the door.
Tendou rested a hand on your head and ruffled your hair in a comforting manner. "You okay? Lil marshmallooooow??" Completely humiliated you smacked his hands away and stood. "Yeah- I'm just- ...going to go to my dorm, I-I shouldn't come anymore anyway..."
"Wha- No!!"
You pressed your lips together tightly. You felt disgusting and the desire to rub your hands where the other males had been was strong. Handsy alphas were something you still weren't quite used to. You were good at hiding yourself away in nooks and crannies so people wouldn't bother you, so this was pretty upsetting.
A deep voice broke the silence.
"I'll walk you back." That wasn't a suggestion. He was still using his alpha tone - causing your inner omega to whine softly in fear of disobeying. He either didn't notice or he ignored it.
You quickly gathered your things and promised Tendou that, yes, you pinky swore you'd see his match later. While he latched onto your back and sent joke after joke your way while begging you to stay, causing Semi to try and pry him off of you, Ushijima-senpai held the door open for the two of you to leave. Tendou called something out but you couldn't quite make out what he said. Whatever it was caused Ushijima-senpai to sigh.
"You didn't have to-"
He silenced you with a sharp look, forcing your omega to look away.
His scent. Strong. Protective. Feel safe.
That was true to an extent, you supposed. He wasn't ever purposefully mean to you. Sometimes things he said rubbed you the wrong way, but Tendou told you he was just blunt and really dense sometimes.
He stopped abruptly, causing you to collide with his back. Despite only being so close for a split second, you jumped away immediately, and your omega keened at the contact.
Warm. Muscular. Smells so good.
Warm. Soft. She smells good.
He motioned at the fork in the path, causing you to stutter out the directions.
"Omegas are weak and need to lean onto alphas in order to succeed." His words caught you off guard.
"Uhm, I'm sorry, I... don't understand."
He glanced down at you for a moment.
"You don’t ask for help. That’s what omegas need to do." You barely managed to keep yourself from flinching. Your dorm was close. You could run inside and avoid the lecture you were certain was coming. You felt your omega whimper. You hated it when you were reprimanded.
"I had it handled." You tried to sound brave and confident despite knowing it was a complete lie. You had panicked and were completely lost on how to stop the alpha.
Your words caused his brows to furrow.
"Omegas should not handle that situation."
Irritation pooled in your stomach and the words flew out of your mouth before you could think. "I know you just as well as I know him. If anything 'Tori-kun should have stepped in. I- you shouldn't just-" your words faltered when his scent grew intense, omega instincts screaming at you to stop. It wasn't like you to speak out of turn. Maybe it was the way he spoke as though omegas had a checklist of ways to deal with situations.
"Omegas are supposed to listen to alph-"
"Isn't that what I was doing!?" Irritation caused you to snap, and the two of you finally reached the side of your dorm building. Angry and already upset from earlier, you attempted to leave but immediately upon realizing your intent, his body had you pinned to the wall of your dormitory.
"Omegas respect alphas." He continued darkly, and shock kept you from moving.
"Alphas are supposed to treat omegas with respect and care for them. That is their job. When an alpha tries to take advantage of your own submissive nature you are to call for me. Do you understand?" That last part didn’t sound like a question, and despite the fact he was keeping you cornered, your primal urges that keened at the display of dominance.
Yes. Alpha. Please. More. Put me in my place.
You face flushed at the chants from your omega and bit your lip while you attempted to level out your breathing.
Alpha. So close.
"From now on," he started softly, a correction on his end for sounding so harsh.
"You will be my omega. You will come for the official and unofficial games."
You had to bite your tongue to keep yourself from 'yes sir'ing him.
"Oh,"
'I need to say something- what do I say?'
You couldn't just say 'yes sir' or anything! What-was this how all alphas asked someone out? You lifted your gaze at an attempt to figure out what to say. Your omega was practically bouncing in joy at the proposition, and you shivered when another wave of his scent rolled over you.
"Uhm," you shifted, finally realizing how little space was between the two of you. 'Shit why is he so close!?'
Yes. He'll protect. He'll do nicely. Perfect alpha.
Your omega was cheering in excitement while you were still struggling to process exactly what was going on. Your fingers found the edge of your jacket and fidgeted with the hem.
"Y-yes, alpha. "
'SHITSHITSHIT- no! That's so dumb why did I say that! I could've said ANYTHING ELSE WHY THAT?!?'
A low, deep purr of approval rolled out from his chest, pleased with your acceptance and submission. His hand shifted lower, as though he wanted to do something, but he seemed to change his mind at the last moment, instead, pulling away from you with a firm nod.
Your head was still lowered slightly in submission to the high ranking alpha that stood before you. He watched you for a moment, his gaze memorizing your nervous and confused, but still sweet and accepting scent.
"Good girl." He praised darkly before completely breaking away, allowing you the chance to head back to your dorm. His alpha snarled at him to pin you down and claim you where you stood, however, you were right. You didn't know him any better than the pup. Despite his oncoming rut, he bit his alpha back and watched you scamper back into your dorm building as though your life was in jeopardy should you not.
He turned slowly, glaring at the alpha pup who was watching from around the corner of the dorm building in anger. He didn't dare approach Wakatoshi again, the pup may have been stupid but at the very least he had a sense of self-preservation.
"Did you talk to Coach Washijō?"
The pup’s hands fisted and the muscles in his jaws ticked. "Yes." He was forced to stare at the ground, knowing that should he stare the dominant alpha in the eyes it would be taken as a threat.
"Good. I do not wish to see you near her again. Understood?"
The alpha growled but nodded, shifting uncomfortably under Ushijima’s intense gaze. After debating with his alpha, he eventually managed to glare at the stronger alpha, irritation seeping through his pores.
"You are neither allowed near any of the matches nor the building itself."
"Y-yes." The blonde managed to choke out through his anger.
"Good." As Ushijima turned away, he knew what the younger alphas intentions were, as pathetic as it seemed, his revenge was obvious. His scent gave him away and despite his alphas desire to chase after his omega, he knew he'd need to take care of the threat and return to practice.
The moment the alpha lunged forward to attack him, Ushijima turned sharply, grabbing his wrist and snapping it with ease. He couldn't ignore his inner alpha’s delight in the act.
The other alpha, although in major pain, refused to scream, and Ushijima, still patient, tightened his grasp on the younger alphas wrist.
"You are a fool," Ushijima growled, feeling his patience beginning to wear thin at the other alphas’ snarls of anger.
"What was your plan exactly?" He wasn't mocking the Alpha, instead, he found himself asking from disbelief in the outright stupidity of the Alpha below him. He'd already lost more than once. First, the game, then, Ushijima's omega, now this. Baseless confidence.
He found his irritation rising and thought to snap the other wrist, but he suppressed his alpha who begrudgingly agreed. He'd lost thrice. It'd take a total moron to try again. After these acts of foolishness, Ushijima had no doubt the pup would be kicked from the school premises. They had no time for troublemakers after all.
He released the boy and stood, not even bothering to check over his shoulder this time. Should the bastard dare oppose him once more, a death sentence would be merciful.
He eyed the entrance of the dorm as walked back to the gym, ensuring the front of the building was indeed secure before continuing on his path. He was unaffected by the bright sun and his alpha preened at thought of her watching him decimate the opposing team.
She would be there, her omega would dictate so. Even if it didn't, he'd seen it in her eyes. The way they flicked off his form to the ground, and back to the way his arms caged her in. The way her scent had shifted to a more tangy palette in shock. The way she shifted and fiddled with the hem of her jacket. She was nervous and her scent had shifted to support that. He found himself pleased that her scent portrayed her emotions so readily. It meant that he didn't need to ask or interrogate her of her thoughts. He had noticed the way she bit her lip after he'd commanded her attendance to his games, and how she breathed in his scent as though attempting to calm herself.
Sweet girl. She's mine.
He closed his eyes for a brief moment, purposefully recalling the words that nearly dragged his alpha out into the open.
"Y-yes, alpha."
Good omega, so small and sweet-tempered.
He'd see to it that no one, not even Tendou, would lay a finger on her. After-all he still needed to ensure she only depended on him. No other person gets to touch her.
His alpha was more than pleased with the thought.
#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader#haikyuuxreader#haikyuu omegaverse#haikyuu wakatoshi#Ushijima Wakatoshi#wakatoshi x reader#ushiwaka#alphawakatoshi#Alpha/beta/omega dynamics#omegaverse#omega reader#alphawakatoshixomegareader#alpha wakatoshi x omega reader#alpha ushijima#haikyuu!!omegaverse#dom/sub#alpha/omega#alpha/beta/omega dynamics x reader#/omegareader#alphatendou#alphasemi#possessive themes#imeanitisomegaverse
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okay i have to get this all out even though it's incomprehensible bc i am adhd and i WILL in fact forget.
Things That Have Happened in Ophelia Tenebrae's No Good 24 Hours (Last Session & This One)
she met the party during a fight with undead. heard the voice of one of her dead party members coming from one of the glamoured enemies who BEGGED ophelia to save her
ireena tenderly touched ophelia's cheeks and thanked her for saving her life. queue me going into a fugue state and writing what i wrote about ophelia's thoughtsTM a few weeks ago
ophelia burying sevashe's body, the party artificer giving her a shovel to do so because she didn't have one. pouring a few drops of holy water on her shallow grave.
ireena revealing that she was dating strahd to annoy her brother until it got weird and that she got bitten 😭
ophelia learning IN that conversation that people born in barovia (including herself) are constantly reincarnating. and that. luce, or someone like her, is out there somewhere. (going insane over the parallel of strahd being stuck on tatyana and ophelia being stuck on luce™)
ophelia taking a quiet moment to pray to lathander and hope that wherever luce is, she's safe
ophelia coping with poorly with seeing the bard and rogue who are fiances snuggling up to fall asleep
fight against wolves <3 ophelia successfully collected a flask of wolf blood without anyone noticing, good for her, pretend that ur still successfully keeping it a secret ur a vampire
not!ireena trying to kiss ophelia on the cheek after the wolf fight after complimenting her and the entire party
the reveal of one ireena coming out of the coffin and one ireena with the party and ophelia standing between the two putting a drop of holy water in each of their palms to see what happens and the ireena with the party's hand is the one that starts to burn.
ophelia swinging her rite of the dawn's chainwhip directly at her skull as soon as she hears strahd's voice which strahd had to PARRY to block, taunting ophelia and telling her its good to see her again and she doesn't have to be so rude 💖
ophelia immediately swinging again and telling strahd that she's going to kill her for what she's done 💖 and missing and strahd stepping in closer to let the chainwhip wrap around both of them, restraining them together and lifting ophelia up off the ground by her collar
the artificer getting a nat20 to shoot strahd with their gun at the same time i burn all of my blood hunter abilities and end up getting a nat20 on a stake to her heart with. 2d4 piercing and 6d6 radiant. ophelia covered in her own blood, and strahd's blood from half of strahd's jaw getting shot off in front of her" strahd tanking both of those attacks and then being like 'haha this was fun bye <3' and poofing into misti
SO Now, the whole party, if they end up asking <3 knows that ophelia has a VERY personal vendetta against strahd.
no one has told ireena that not!ireena tried to kiss ophelia LGKHGHLK and ophelia CERTAINLY won't
ireena coming up to ophelia and putting a hand on her bloody shoulder and asking if she can at least bandage her wounds <3 ophelia refusing and saying it's mostly not her blood <3
OPHELIA BEING THE ONLY PC WHO ROLLED HIGH ENOUGH TO NOTICE IREENA LICKING STRAHD AND OPHELIA'S BLOOD OFF HER HAND A FEW MOMENTS LATER
#ch: ophelia#game: curse of strahd#GOD. SO MUCH HAS HAPPENED IN 24 HOURS FOR OPHELIA#SHE IS NOT HAVING FUN#i literally cannot describe how absolutely insane i am over this campaign#my dm is so talented at descriptions and also just. Goes Straight for the Throat EVERY TIME#out to kill me#recap: ophelia
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Star Wars Kinktober day- 1
Prompt: Symbolic jewelry
Sub! Tup x Female (AFAB) OC
Hello! Willkommen to the grand opening of me doing Kinktober (even if this post is a few hours late for the actual 1st 😅)! Here is my prompt list derived from Kinktober lists by @ink-and-flame. Their prompt lists are phenomenal, but for the sake of my ADHD I had to whittle it down into a more finite list of interests that I am comfortable writing and know at least a little about it, or else I’ll just get lost in the sauce of prompts! But seriously, go check out their lists, they’re incredibly varied and have something for everyone!
And now without further ado:
Tags: some drinking, sub male, femdom, nudity, almost pussy eating (working up to it in part 2!), pussy worship, praise kink, worship kink (is that a thing?), there’s no sex in this fic it’s just the lead up (she is spoicy tho)
Words: 1609
🍑🍑🍑
Under his shirt, the chain and pendant Tup wore brushed cooly against his chest. As unpleasant as the gooseflesh it raised was, the reminder it gave him was anything but.
From the moment he’d awoke that morning, wrapped in arms as pale as the thin sunlight at that hour, he knew what he wanted and began to get ready. A few kisses pecked around his groggy girlfriend, Aurelie’s, face placated her awakening at his rising and he moved to her dressing table to grab the aforementioned necklace. If she wasn’t interested in playing, it would have been put away the night before in it’s felt case, but this morning he plucked it from it’s customary open place before the mirror.
Catching the morning bus he felt it leap and jump with the rhythm of the air vehicle as the pilot navigated Coruscant air-traffic. After the war ended and the clones were given their freedom, sentient rights, and a hell of a lot of backpay, there were questions of what was to be done with them. As it turned out, there wasn’t such a mass exodus from the GAR as previously thought there would be, though many opted to retire from combat positions. Tup chose to oversee the supply requisition and organization for the newly formed Search & Rescue Ops, a subsidiary of the Disaster Relief Squadron, helping places around the galaxy affected by natural disasters. It felt meaningful and good, and he could honestly say he didn’t miss having to carry a gun and constantly keep an eye out for clankers.
After a day of approving supply drops, running reports, and the pendant lightly caressing his chest with every slight sway, he was back on the bus home. A man scowled at him from among the crowd; some people would never see the clones as anything more than meat-droids undeserving of even the life they were given, but the pendant mocked that man’s ideas from behind Tup’s shirt. It was a gift of love freely given to him and he was worthy,
When he returned to his apartment Aurelie was still at work, not getting off until late. As he waited for water to boil he straightened up around the place, clearing dust from the nooks it always returned to settle and gathered laundry. When he came to the bed in their room he came to a spot by the bed and stopped, considered, and opened a drawer to reveal a medium sized case which he deposited neatly on Aurelie’s side of the bed. He already had the necklace, it never hurt to be proactive in terms of their play.
Half an hour later dinner was had and a portion of it was squared away in the fridge with a reminder to reheat it and enjoy and Tup was ready to meet a few of the boys at 79’s. As he changed from his work wear into something light blue and more casual, the afternoon sun caught the silver pendant resting on the tan skin of his breast bone, dying it almost the same shade of pink- before he could finish that thought a beep from his comm sounded informing him that his taxi had arrived outside.
20 minutes, a few levels down, and a familiar neon sign later, Tup was walking into a familiar bar. Nothing had changed about the place, only now armour and dress greys were a rare sight to be seen as the open opportunity for individuality to flourish among the clones led to some, interesting, experiments in style. ‘Speaking of which,’ thought Tup as a discordant but jovial chorus of his name called him over to a table in the corner. Fives, Jesse, Kix, Rex, Waxer, Boil, Cody, and even Wolffe, to his surprise, sat there having already gotten a small headstart on happy hour. It wasn’t a full reunion, others still at work or spread across the galaxy exploring life, but it was always nice to see familiar faces.
They took their time and paced themselves drinking, it was still early and they didn’t have to run off in an hour to prepare for a campaign and weren’t shotgunning a train of shots to try and forget one. Some of them had to be able to operate tomorrow morning though and they parted as the night lowered it’s curtain over day; Jesse and Kix remained however to scope out some of the ladies coming in with the party crowds.
As good as the times spent together were, Tup silently willed the air-taxi to carry him away faster through the legendary Coruscant traffic and back home. He’d worn the necklace, the empty place it would otherwise occupy obvious, if she hadn’t noticed then she would certainly see the familiar box he’d left resting by her pillow. Stars he was ready, the anticipation had built all day, the secret only he kept feeding his need. He was thrumming for whatever Aurelie had to give him.
The taxi stopped and he cursed the second it took for the payment to transfer, the minute in the elevator, the short march down the hall, and the door code he had to spend time punching in-
The entry was dark with the exception of a string of pink fairy lights strung along the wall and leading around the corner to their room. He grinned and, remembering to turn back and lock the door when he was already halfway across the room, soon came to the closed panel that marked their space. He knocked, “May I come in mistress?”
“Enter, darling.” A high, breathy voice answered.
As the door opened Tup entered the threshold and lowered himself to his knees, his hands finding their place on his lap as he gazed upon the shining woman perched on the edge of their bed (somehow, someway, his girlfriend, a part of his brain never ceased obsessing). She regarded him warmly, “Have you been a good boy today Tup? You took your necklace and I really hope it didn’t make you do anything naughty.”
“I was very good, mistress, just for you.” His voice was breathy and quiet, he had been good, and he anticipated his reward. His eyes drank in the milky skin that clothed the leopardess in repose before him, partially obscured by the long, wavy strands of pearly blonde hair.
“Oh I know Tup, you’re such a good boy. You wake me up with kisses, make sure I have food to eat when I work late, and you were so considerate to get our box of toys out for me. I don’t know where to begin, but good boys deserve to be rewarded, isn’t that right my beautiful boy?”
Aurelie’s voice caressed his every synapse as he breathed in air that still held the trace of a burn from a heavy incense and he was already in a state. Her words of praise had passed straight down from his ears to his cock, bringing him to a full erection from the half mast he’d been sailing at since walking through the front door. “Yes, please mistress, yes.” If it sounded like he was begging, Tup didn’t care. Her soft thighs were resting atop one another, hiding from him what he’d been craving all day. Just one simple shift was all it would take to reveal to him where she was no doubt already soft, sweet, and wet.
Her legs uncrossed, but she stood instead of spreading wider and came to stand before him, her curl-crowned mound a tease before him that turned his need to a desperate clamour within him. He held still, eyes glued to hers as she leaned down to him and brought her pillowy lips to kiss him, one hand coming up to cradle his cheek and the other fiddles with his collar for the necklace she’d gifted him. His hands were curled hard on his lap, restraining himself from the urge to reach out and touch; being so, so good and waiting.
Drawing the pendant along the chain away from Tup’s racing heart, Aurelie held it between them and teased: “Is this what you want Tup? Do you want to eat my pussy until you’re begging for me to fuck you, until you cum in me? Or maybe I’ll ride that handsome face of yours all night and let you cum in my mouth while you’re hard at work.” Tup could only manage a tortured moan, the pictures being painted in his head making him dizzy. She lightly laughed and graciously accepted that as her answer, gently leading him across the floor as she walked backwards with the chain still in her hand, him crawling on all fours after her. When she returned to the bed she sat as he looked up at her with lust and adoration.
Still holding the pendant, she slowly drew her legs apart, raising one to rest on the bed so her pussy and the glorious pink of her vulva were wide open on display for Tup in his current position. Aurelie considered the pendant again for a moment. “I’m glad I found that artist, it’s a wonderful likeness, isn’t it darling?” From the petal-like folds of her labia minora to the majora that protected them and the unique hood that shadowed her marvelous clit, it couldn’t belong to anyone else. The highest honour Tup felt was being lucky enough to be the one person allowed to worship it.
“Stars yes, mistress!” He agreed emphatically and Aurelie laughed lightly again and let the necklace fall back into its place from her fingers.
“Well, come and get your reward Tup.” He gladly obliged.
🍑🍑🍑
So yeah, Tup as a Sub wears a necklace of his girlfriend’s vulva when he really wants to be her good boy (; It also helps that it’s really pretty ✨👀✨
Also sorry if this is a little off, this wasn’t even alpha read, let alone beta read.
Aurelie is one of a few OC’s I’ve used in my daydreams, she may make another appearance in another story if I think she’ll fit! I may try and do some art too…
As for the boys at the bar, I came up with ideas for what they’re up to now and may either write other Kinktober stuff in this AU, or do some drabbles later (though I could include the Kinktober stuff in an AU drabble, right?). I didn’t include it in the story though because I felt like it would disturb the flow too much. I’ll probably detail the AU in another post if I do end up doing that.
Kinktober works so far
Masterlist
#kinktober#kinktober 2021#star wars#the clone wars#sisterofleatherfrogwrites#tup#ct-5385#clone trooper tup#minors dni#sw#tcw#sw tcw#the clone wars fic#tup x oc#please let me know if I've broken tense#I'm bad at catching that#but please be nice as I am but a delicate frög
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Secondary Toast Revolving Door, Part 1
I guess I should start with a little about me, since that’s easier than making you pick through previous asks for information and some of you guys are new here. This one’s going to be heavily personal, so you can skip it if you want.
I’m a double Bird. My Bird primary system is heavily Badger influenced, and I also use Lion to support it by telling me when I should investigate something more closely. If we can dip into primary territory for a moment, I guess you can say I understand the world through systems that model things around me. But not all of those systems are things I’ve consciously examined, or fully investigated.
My understanding of how historical people dressed is pretty limited, for example, because I haven’t studied it in depth to get all the information—but I consciously understand what I do know about it. You could say this system piece is tiny but clear; I could expand it if I chose to find out more.
My understanding of how someone I’m not close to thinks might have more data to work with, but I haven’t consciously processed it; that’s the kind of thing where my Lion primary model will tell me to look closer if that person starts acting weird. This system piece might be described as huge but fuzzy; I could clarify it if I sat down and thought about it. I probably have more of these than I realize, but Lion basically takes care of monitoring those. I don’t have to investigate everything.
But some of my systems are both large and fairly clear, because I’ve taken the time both to gather data on them and to examine it. My understanding of myself is… well, I won’t say it’s terribly clear, because I’m in my early twenties and I’m still constantly getting new information, plus someone keeps changing the environment and mucking with my data (that would be me). But I have to examine it, because my brain is like a notoriously buggy piece of software and I’m the poor schmuck saddled with tech support duties.
Basically, the reason I’m good at playing therapist with other people is that I’m constantly doing exactly that thing with myself. (This probably makes me a very annoying patient for actual therapists.)
About that buggy brain, then.
I have major depression. That was professionally diagnosed when I was a teenager and it’s probably genetic. I take medication for it, when I remember to. It especially flares up in the winter or when I’m under stress. I probably have some kind of anxiety disorder too.
I’m almost certainly autistic, which I’ve never brought up with a professional—the first person to figure it out was the system I’m now best friends with, because they’re autistic and they knew I was within two weeks of talking to me. It took me two years to catch up with them and figure it out myself.
In my defense, I thought executive dysfunction, sensory overwhelm, dissociation, and hyperempathy were like… secret menu items for depression, because those only really bug me during depressive episodes. My current theory is that they’re related to autistic burnout instead.
I mask a lot, subconsciously—it’s actually really hard to turn that off normally—and I just can’t do that as much when depressed. If I do, my tolerance for everything else goes way down and I’ll go into overwhelm and start having shutdowns and dissociating. I recover pretty quickly (hours, not days), but if you’ve never spent 15 minutes standing in a Walmart aisle trying to decide whether you want a jar of peanut butter, but you can’t make decisions because you can’t access your emotions and you don’t really feel like you’re “here” but you kind of just want to go home… well, be glad I guess.
Of course, I have other autistic traits that show up when I’m not under stress, but they’re seldom associated with autism because most people don’t know what autis are like when we’re actually happy. Like, hyperlexia? That’s not even an “official” word, the auti community just uses it because “official” literature hasn’t caught up. I taught myself to read at age three (according to my mom; she says I was reading news headlines and stuff, not just books I’d memorized) and wrote a 35k word novella when I was ten, with no external prompting. My audio processing used to be terrible, but I routinely tested at college age reading levels as a kid.
I also might have ADHD? If so, it’s also mostly just noticeable if I’m under stress, and then it’s hard to tell if that’s the issue or if it’s just autism/depression again.
You might be getting a clearer picture of how my secondary and its model end up burnt so often!
(Resisting a very strong urge to cut stuff from this post.)
In short, I was a Gifted Kid. I spent a lot of my teen years biting off more than I could chew, honestly. I felt that I should be able to do more, and I wanted to be taken seriously, but I had basically no idea how to take care of myself because my needs are different from everyone else’s. I’m still figuring those out.
I’m kind of like an orchid plant: incredibly picky about conditions, wants a different “soil” and watering schedule, gets stressed if stuff changes too quickly, but when everything is just right and it does bloom, it goes all out.
I’m not kidding when I say that I have odd needs. One of them is the need for creative work, which seems to be hardwired into me. When I say that art or writing keeps me sane, I often hear back “oh yeah! I’ve heard that can be very therapeutic,” which is an innocuous reply, but it’s always bugged me, and I think I’ve figured out why.
First, because that’s not the reason I make things… I just… have to. Second, I can’t “make up” not doing creative work with some other kind of therapy. Third and most importantly, I’d much rather think of “artist” as my ground state, and depression as a condition that happens when my needs aren’t being met, rather than thinking of depression as the default that I’m just using art to escape from. That seems to me a healthier way of thinking, and probably a more accurate one, but I’m probably the only one who can see that distinction.
If life gets in the way and I can’t make space for creative work, it will actively make my depression worse. I know this because, multiple times, I’ve been unable to pinpoint why I’m feeling shitty, and then I go back to my easel or my writing or (ukulele, cooking, even just taking care of houseplants) and realize I haven’t done anything creative in like a month and thaaaat’s the problem.
I crack open a bottle of gesso to prep some canvases and it smells like… well, I don’t think you can get high off gesso? But it’s not like when you’re out of it on painkillers or cold medicine or whatever. It’s incredibly grounding, like the world snaps back into focus but it’s also oddly euphoric. Or I write ten thousand words in a couple days and it just… I don’t know what that does. I’ve never run across a word for it.
The writer of Smile at Strangers (a really good memoir centered around women, anxiety, and karate) describes a similar feeling in relation to her martial arts practice.
It’s also a bit like when all the snow melts after winter and you step outside and there’s the smell of wet soil under sunlight and I’m not sure if this fully translates for people who don’t have seasonal depression. Sorry.
Dammit, I want to paint… I haven’t had space to set up for like eight months. I’ve been nose-deep in writing projects since last summer for a reason, but right now my friggin Ravenclaw secondary is off angsting about something because of Life Stress Bullshit, and I don’t have the focus to work on any of my writing projects. Apart from this one. But it’s not really what I want in terms of creative work.
*velociraptor screech*
Oh, yeah. I guess I could mention this is why my nickname is Paint. Not sure if that was obvious before. The header image (which is more visible in the app for some reason) is one of my paintings. It’s a tiny one and it’s not one of my favorites, but I had the photo on my phone and the colors work well enough for what I needed.
(restrains self from negging my own painting ability)
This is starting to get into spoiler territory for what burned Ravenclaw secondary looks like, huh? It’s peaced out for a couple weeks at this point. I’m trying to write about what made it take off, but my ability to think of words and form a coherent sentence kinda flew out the window when I approached it directly.
Let’s just say that around the start of the month, someone I was talking to online (if you’re reading this, it’s definitely not you) kindaaaa hit a nasty depression trigger of mine. Not their fault—it’s very specific to me, and I struggle to explain why I can’t really talk about it. Basically, I spent years studying programming and web design, and due to several different but related issues during that experience, it’s now a trigger for me. I very much want it not to be, but trying to train that out of myself has induced more than one panic attack and I’m stuck between giving up on it or figuring out a way to go back to it that doesn’t totally shut my brain down.
That paragraph took forever to write, by the way.
I think I have to end this here. I… am going to go take out the trash, and water my plants, and make my bed, and file some paperwork, and maybe I’ll even mix up some bread dough or do some laundry. Spoiler alert for what it looks like when my Hufflepuff model takes over, I guess.
Oh. And I should maybe probably eat something. I almost forgot about that... again.
#sortinghatchats#time to overshare on the internet i guess#secondary toast revolving door#mental health#burned ravenclaw secondary#hufflepuff secondary model#ravenclaw primary#paint speaks
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Softer, Softest
Testing a WIP here. Wanted to see if anyone was interested.
Wesker crawls out of the volcano (because of course he does), and the BSAA retrieves the remains. Chris, ever the hero, wants to help what’s left of him. Unfortunately the BSAA isn’t in the business of rehabilitating terrorists, but they can’t deny a founding member. So they compromise. How convenient then, that Wesker himself had perfected mind control technology.
Warnings for mind control and a brief description of non-consensual touching. However, that touching is not sexual in nature. Brief implication of child abuse. Admittedly a dark premise but becomes fluff.
Laid low, passive, doll like. Redfield could have him in ways he never had before. Quiet. Domesticated. Soft. Umbrella’s ubermensch, the western world’s idea of male beauty, gene selected and designed then broken on their wheel, now belonged to him. Empty, vacuous, acquiescent for the very first time. Briar Rose sleepwalking through Chris' apartment, barefoot and dreamy eyed.
It was, admittedly, not an ideal situation; but Chris wasn’t the type to take advantage of that. He knew the guilt would eat him from the inside if he allowed any injustice to happen, even to Wesker. Perhaps especially to Wesker. Greatest love of Chris’ life, much to his own chagrin.
As it stands, he likes to chat at him. Explain his favorite parts of movies while he runs his fingers through his hair. Something he'd never gotten to do before but always wanted to. He's a warm, solid weight against him as he stares blankly ahead. Chris' very own dolly. But he feels he's nice about it. Tries to be understanding of the person stuck somewhere deep inside. "I know you would have hated this. But someday, you'll be able to make your own choices again." Because Chris refuses to think of Albert as beyond redemption. Refuses to think that people who have been so traumatized are beyond repair. Albert just needs help. He just needs to be shown a gentle touch. A shred of humanity. And Chris wants to be the one to try.
____________________
It was warm here. Hazy. Almost pleasant. And that was...abnormal. Somehow he knew it wasn’t supposed to be like this. That this state of being was somehow temporary. But he couldn't bring himself to struggle against it; stick his head above the bathwater doze he both languished and lavished in. The instinct to hold still and do as you’re told still strong. Maybe he had been taught too well as a child…
Something in Wesker fizzled; acid mixed with alkali, a chemical reaction that made him twitch. Something in him remembered fear. Nervous system fighting against the weight of the lull, trying to beat back the lassitude. He felt a tension in the back of his throat, burbling up through his mouth in the form of a whine, high pitched and animal. His heartbeat increased from its sluggish rhythm, suddenly thundering against his ribs in a frenzy.
He didn’t want to be here. This feeling, whatever it was, was hiding something terrible. A leviathan lurking in the depths, rising quickly to pull him down with a burden too terrible to bear. A knowledge that would break him. But as he was now, Wesker was powerless to stop it.
He wanted to run. To bolt in any direction; a rabbit with a wolf on its heels. But to where he couldn’t say. He was vaguely aware of the fact he didn’t know where he was. Hadn’t for a while now. And when he tried to stand, his knees gave out and he sagged to the floor; more terrible softness greeting him at the end of his fall.
“Hey now,” a voice said softly. “It’s okay. I’m here! I’m here. I’ve got you.”
Warmth again, but a different kind. Not a chemical buzz to lay him out, keep him in a fog, but a real heat. Soft skin hoisting him up against something solid, something that smelled like castile soap and laundry detergent, just a hint of sharp aftershave cutting through.
The monsters lurking just below the surface dove back down into the murk, settling once again in the depths. Far away from the safety the voice and warmth promised.
It seemed easy now, to surrender. To let the fog and softness over take him; drown out the fear buzzing and fomenting in the back of his mind. Peace descended once again, and he let out a shaky breath in relief. Nothing hurt here, trapped in the comforting static of whatever had been done to him. Sweetly restrained, or perhaps sheltered, by the solid mass holding him.
____________________
Wesker went limp in his grasp, head sagging against his shoulder. Chris ran his fingers gently through blond hair, nudging his nose against Wesker’s forehead. “It’ll all be okay. You’re safe here. I promise.” It didn’t irk him that Wesker’s arms didn’t reach out, didn’t hold onto him for comfort or even support. Acquiescence was the best that could be expected. That he had so quickly calmed was the most he could ask for, all things considered. He hoped that meant Al trusted him on some level. Knew that Chris wouldn’t hurt him.
Chris settled Wesker back on the sofa, mindful not to crowd him after as he sat down as well. “I wish you could tell me what set you off. I really do only want to help you. And I know all this is kinda messed up. But maybe it’s the only way to show you not everyone is bad. Not everyone is trying to use each other for personal gain.” And now that he’s speaking, it all tumbles out. A mishmash jumble of feelings and stray thoughts, pouring past his lips. Dumb mouth to deaf ear.
“I-I never tried to use you...back in STARS, you know. I wasn’t trying to sleep my way to the top or blackmail you or anything like that. And I don’t think you were using me either. Not really. I think- I think if you really hadn’t cared about me at all, back in the mansion, you would have killed me. Or at least you wouldn’t have helped me out as much. You had no reason to. Help me, that is. We never would have suspected you of anything. We trusted you. All of us trusted you. Which is why we were all so angry at you after. But somehow, you and I just couldn't stay away from each other. I never could stop loving you, no matter how much I tried..” Chris lapses into silence for a moment, wondering if Wesker is listening. If he can understand anything he’s saying to him. Chris hopes he can, somewhere in there.
Slowly, gently, Chris reaches out to Wesker-to Al, to take his hand into his own, running his thumb over the creases of his knuckles. Wesker doesn’t react, just stares straight ahead vacantly. “It would be nice if we could be like this for real. Maybe someday. But I’d settle for you being at peace, even if that doesn’t involve me. Though I think I would still miss you. Or maybe the idea of you; the concept of what we could have been.” Chris squeezes his hand again, for good measure.
To Wesker, the voice means something. Words have ceased to have definition, but the tone carries through the message, or at the very least the core emotions behind them. He can’t reply. And even if he could he isn’t sure what he would say, or if he even remembers any words at all. But this...this is important. The lilt and drone of the voice makes him want things. Things he’d had before. How terrible, then, that he didn’t have whatever it was anymore. How stupid if him, to have lost it. The hand holding his squeezes again, and he wants to squeeze back. He’s so tired, and effort seems herculean.
But somehow, he manages; his grip a weak pulse, falling away as quickly as it had started.
But it’s enough. Chris feels it. And a delicate hope blooms in his chest.
___________
end...?
Your girl here has ADHD real bad and wrote some stuff. This is in a document titled Plant 69;) because I couldn't think of a title so I gave up and went with a Courtney Love reference. I’ll mail you some squished up candy bars if you can find the other one hidden in here. Now that we are having a Resident Evil renaissance (a REnaissance, if you will) and I’m not the only one craving sub Wesker I figured it was a good time to participate. Nothing here that hasn’t happened to other characters in canon so I figure if you’re in the fandom you’re already okay with some problematic stuff. Which is good because unfortunately everything I write is...dark and designed to be uncomfortable. At least this one has a happy ending.
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Thoughts on Steven Universe Future 3/28/2020
I wanted to write this last night, but there was just so much information to go through.
Spoilers Ahead
Homeworld Bound: I watched the episode when it came out on Cartoon Network’s website. I had planned to go see it in theaters, but that was canceled.
The gems in this episode are very concerned for Steven right now, because he has been missing for days. It must have be a surprise to see him with Jasper walking out of that bathroom. She continues to address him as “My Diamond”.
Steven seems to have run out of people to turn to in this crisis. He feels like he can’t talk to the gems anymore, talking to Connie would dredged up too many feelings, he’s lost his connection with his dad, and now he’s even hurt/killed Jasper. With no more connections, he turns to the Diamonds.
Homeworld is now more colorful than ever. All kinds of gems run around the throne room and there’s even tours of the palace. There is an upcoming election between the two Zircons we met during the trial.
Spinel is on this tour (has she done this before and does she do it all the time? Or is this the first time she’s decided to do this?). There seems to be no ill will towards Steven, and most of what plagued her during the movie seems to be gone (I’m not actually sure how “fine” she is. When Steven asks “What’s wrong with you?” she responds “The usual”. So I would possibly say that not all of her issues are resolved but at least she has the diamonds to support her). After explaining his gem troubles to her, Spinel takes Steven to see the diamonds.
This whole sequence of events felt very fairy-tale-esque. Something about visiting three people to solve a problem, with three very different approaches, except in a fairy-tale the third approach is what usually works.
Yellow can fix any gem and change their form, but the root of Steven’s problem isn’t physical. Blue can make any one happy, but Steven’s problem isn’t exactly emotional either. It’s deeper than surface level emotions, it’s trauma and a lack of a support system. White’s new ability is to let others control her and in a way this amplifies the voice of the voiceless and this can allow gems to talk to themselves. Steven, while controlling White, tries to shatter her, or at least has an intrusive thought about this. This sequence could be interpreted in many ways however, he might have been trying to hurt himself, or White, or Pink, or even all three.
Disturbed by what he did, he leaves. He asks Spinel how she got rid of her “vengeful thoughts” (because that’s how he felt about White, himself, and Pink in that moment). She tells him that she met him and that he told her that she could change. Steven does not want to hear his own advice anymore.
With no more answers or solutions than he started with, Steven leaves homeworld, leaving his sandal behind. Many have pointed out that Steven usually has lost a sandal (in bubbled and bismuth) when he is mistaken for Rose. Here, I’m not sure he’s mistaken for anyone.
So the diamond’s powers are all the opposite of what they used to be. I’m not sure why I didn’t put this together until Tumblr user its-a-gemfact pointed this out, but Pink’s powers were destructive, but she chose to be a healer instead. I think it’s the backwards reveal of all this that had me not thinking about this in its chronological order.
When this episode ended, I was unsure of where he could go. Would he run away all together? Where could he possibly go?
Everything’s Fine: Steven takes the route of denial to try and move on.
Connie calls him and he continues to deflect. He doesn’t want to admit that he’s struggling or that he has hurt anyone. His thoughts about this broadcast on the tv. When he turns it off, he sees his diamond eyes in the reflection for the first time.
So he decides to act like nothing happened. That he is the old Steven and he can just go on with his life without confronting any of this. He looks to the old painting of himself and Garnet in Poolhopping. There he is depicted as an angel. That’s what he want to be. He (unintentionally) yells “I’m fine”, this shatters the glass of his window.
He literally runs away when the gems try to talk him about this. He decides to go to little homeschool again, because it’s the place that he has felt the most needed before.
He crashes Peridot’s horticulture class. Volleyball is there and we don’t get to see whether or not her eye healed. Steven inserts himself into the lesson and offers to perk up some of the plants. Him doing so causes many Plant Stevens to grow and they just run around little homeschool telling people that they are there to help.
It looks like Garnet is some kind of marriage counselor now, so that’s interesting.
Steven then decides to “help” Bismuth at the forge. Blue and Yellow Pearl are there as well as the Crystal Gem Pearl. They are forging “wedding armor”. Is it Yellow Pearl that is getting married or is she merely a model for the armor? When doing the detail work on the armor, Steven splits the anvil in half. He can no longer do delicate things. This is because his stress management is not going well and his body just thinks he is always in danger.
He leaves to find some gems and Onion playing baseball. He joins and catches a ball that almost hits the Heaven and Earth Geodes. For once, one of his plans almost goes right. He lets out a cry of relief and joy, but this destroys the buildings around him. He says he can fix it. He and the plant Stevens begin to move the debris.
When he returns home, the Crystal Gems, Greg and Connie are all there. They confront him about how he’s been acting like he’s okay when he clearly isn’t. He’s even been subconsciously broadcasting a cry for help to Connie’s phone.
Steven has a great monologue here. He talks about the mistakes he’s made these last few episodes, the fight he had with his dad (normal he says), breaking the anvil, the vengeful thoughts towards White, and shattering Jasper. He calls himself a fraud. “How did I keep getting away with this?” He says that he will just continue to make mistakes and fix them forever and ever. He concludes that he is a monster and from within him a monster bursts.
I have felt (and sometimes still feel) like Steven here. As someone with ADHD, my days can just feel like one big series of mistakes.
I Am My Monster: Steven feels like a monster, so he is one now. He doesn’t rampage through the city though. He seems more or less confused and afraid of this new form.
The Crystal Gems, Connie and Greg do not want to hurt him. A plan of attack is never formed. They know that he could potentially damage beach city, so they need to restrain him or return him to his human form.
The B team and the Diamonds (plus Spinel) show up as well. All of these people have had their lives very much effected by Steven in a very positive way. Even the Cluster shows up.
Everyone tries a multitude of ways to restrain and help Steven. Nothing seems to be working and they all try to blame themselves, but as Connie points out, that made the situation about themselves, not Steven. She tells them that they need to show that they are there for him now.
They all give him a tearful hug and tell him all the ways he has helped and now they are there to help him.
“Steven, you must have been so afraid to show us this side of yourself, but we’re not going anywhere. We are all going to take care of you the same way you take care of us. You know what? I don’t have your powers but” and in true fairy-tale fashion, he is transformed by a kiss.
I quoted Connie here, because she said it the most succinctly. This is what Steven needed to hear. This has been a lonely season for him. His family has always been there physically, but him hiding away his problems and feelings distanced them from him emotionally. She didn’t tell him he was or good or that his mistakes are without consequence, she just told him that they would be there for him.
When he becomes human again I think he’s afraid that he has hurt someone. He cries into Lion’s mane. That crying was realistic. I’ve heard people cry like that and I’ve cried like that. It is a great way to end an episode like this.
The Future: Steven has a therapist, finally.
Steven has decided to leave and tour all 39 (apparently) states. He wants to know where to live now.
I’ve seen some have qualms with this. I do too in a way. But in the defense of the show, he does still have his support system back home, he has solid plans to continue to see his friends as well as Connie and there’s always warp pad and Lion to bring him back.
He gives the gems some homemade cookie cats to explain his leaving. They all pretend to take it well. This makes him feel like they don’t care. He goes to the B team and they give him a tearful goodbye. Peridot finally gets to wear an appearance modifier that doesn’t meld to her body.
Jasper, who seems to be living in Little Homeworld now, tries to go with Steven. For a moment, I thought he was going to say yes. She is still addressing him as Diamond, but she does ultimately decide to stay.
Greg helps Steven pack up and Steven gives Greg his room. Steven is leaving like his dad once did and Greg has finally settled back into a home. Steven, however, plans to visit again. The gems and his dad are still his family.
Steven hugs everyone goodbye, for the first time. He and Connie seem to officially be an item after all this time. She plans to meet him at one of his first stops. (Also among his earlier stated plans were college tours with her). He starts to drive away, but he’s still bothered by the fact that the gems did not give him a tearful farewell. He puts the car in reverse and lets them know this. They were afraid of holding him back. Of course they are sad and upset, but they are still his family and this isn’t goodbye forever, it’s just a change.
He finally leaves and it seems that the whole town is out with a farewell banner too. He listens to Being Human as he drives off.
While there is a part of me that wishes some other characters could have gotten more screen time or that some other things could have been wrapped up, the other part knows that this is Steven’s story. Rebecca Sugar has talked about the theory of the sublime before. That when you have a story that goes on without showing it, when the audience takes that story and makes it their own, it becomes sublime. So when the fans inevitably write their fanfiction about Steven’s travels, Jasper’s time at little homeschool, and about the myriad of other character and things they could possibly do, this becomes sublime.
I’m glad I got the watch this show from the very beginning. I’ve met some great people online and irl because of it and it has inspired me and will continue to do so.
#steven universe#steven universe future#steven universe spoilers#steven universe future spoilers#su spoilers#suf spoilers#j posts about stuff
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Emotional Disregulation, Privilege, and White Girl Tears
Hello all, it has been a few months since my last ADHD essay, and what a few months it has been. In case you’re reading this in the future (since tumblr has no date stamps), I am writing this in June 2020 when in the midst of a global pandemic, police are responding to massive protests against police violence with even more police violence, and a lot of white people are thinking more than ever about the privilege we have experienced. I have been thinking about writing about my (cis white female) experience with privilege where neurodivergence, race, and gender intersect for a while, and have hit the point where these ideas have been bouncing around in my head long enough I need to write them down.
Small disclaimer: Right now I'm not sure if I should be writing anything about anything since we all ought to be listening and amplifying black voices --I'm there are much better resources out there about race and neurodivergance especially, and I have no intention of talking over anyone, especially given my limited experience. But given that the audience for my last essay here was in the single digits, I doubt I need to worry too much about talking over people at the moment. Please know that I am writing this now primarily for myself, and if it ever gets an audience later, forgive me for writing it now when there are so many more important things going on and more important people to listen to.
I will do my best to stay in my lane here, so I'm just going to talk about how my privilege has affected the perception of one of my ADHD symptoms If you don't want to read some rambling white/cis anecdotes about how white privilege and gender norms affect the perception of ADHD, by all means skip it. If you're still here, maybe it can be the start of a conversation as I would love to hear some other perspectives and experiences here. And maybe, just maybe by the end of it I will learn to spell privilege right on the first try (I really want there to be an A in there, or maybe a D. Privaledge? Sounds about right.)
As I mentioned in my previous ramble, I’m a cryer. I cry a lot, not just when I’m sad but sometimes when I’m happy, when I feel guilty or ashamed, and especially when I’m angry, or frustrated, or overwhelmed. I learned recently, as I was seeking my diagnosis, that emotional disregulation is a hallmark of ADHD. We feel things strongly, and uncontrollably and have trouble restraining ourselves from expressing those feelings. This is experienced by almost everyone, if not everyone, with ADHD and it’s only not part of the diagnostic criteria because it’s hard to quantify—there are a lot of good general resources out there to learn more about this, I’m not an expert, I’m just here to share my own experience.
Story time. When I was in fourth grade, I punched another girl in the stomach. For what felt like the millionth time, when the teacher told everyone to find a partner for some activity, everyone partnered up and I looked around to find that I was the left-over. I was an outcast for a lot of reasons at that age. I told myself for a long time it was solely because I was the lone atheist (actually agnostic but I didn’t know the term at the time) in a deep south bible-belt school, but with the benefit of hindsight I have also realized that (partially probably due to the ADHD) I was also pretty weird, and probably very annoying. But whatever the reason for my ostracism, it was already weighing heavily on me when the teacher assigned this girl to work with me, and she gave me the biggest exasperated sigh and eyeroll like she would rather do anything else. So I punched her.
I now realize that this is probably a pretty normal response for a kid with untreated ADHD—the combination of emotional disregulation and poor impulse control means we often lash out. But with none of the adults in my life knowing that at the time, surely I was disciplined for my seemingly-random violent action, yes? No. I cried, and I got away with it.
That’s not the whole story, I did get several weeks of sessions with the school counselor, and I was made to write a very thorough apology letter (and made to rewrite it repeatedly as the teacher thought of more things I should add and repeatedly declared my handwriting not good enough, to such an extent the exercise definitely felt more punitive than reconsiliatory), but I ultimately I didn’t get expelled, I didn’t get suspended, I didn’t even get detention.
The girl I punched was black. This wouldn’t be relevant to the story at all, except that in retrospect I have to wonder if the consequences would have been the same if our roles were reversed. If a black girl (even a neurodivergent, ostracized, and frequently bullied one) had lashed out the way I did and punched a white girl, I expect there would have been a lot more consequences for that, even if she cried afterwards. And if a black boy had done the same, he wouldn’t have been perceived as troubled and in need of help, he would have been perceived as dangerous. And as we all (hopefully) know by now, that perception can have life or death consequences.
I’m sure that was neither the first nor the last time that crying, and people’s perception of me crying (as a cute little white girl with freckles and big brown eyes) has gotten me out of trouble, or gotten me what I wanted one way or another, but it is the most dramatic example I can think of. I want to emphasize that I have never cried to get what I wanted on purpose—I have spent way more time trying not to cry than trying to cry, the only time I’ve ever cried on purpose has been in theater exercises. But I’m sure a lot of white girls in the same position I was in (with or without the undiagnosed ADHD and emotional disregulation) have realized the way they could use peoples responses to their tears to their advantage. They probably grow up to be Karens who use their tears to get out of traffic tickets, get free stuff from store managers, and to sic violent police on black people who inconvenience them. (Aside, the only time I have been pulled over as an adult, I was trying so hard not to cry that the cop thought I was acting suspicious and asked a bunch of extra questions. I still got the ticket.
I tell myself that those people use their emotions on purpose to manipulate people, that I'm different, I would never do that. But I have to wonder if some of those same women tell themselves the same thing after the fact. I don't think it's enough to avoid intentional manipulation and intentional harm-- not anymore. We as white women need to do be conscious enough of how our emotions are perceived and prioritized to act proactively to avoid unintentional harm as well. For those of us with ADHD, this may be harder than for neurotypicals, but that makes it all the more important for us to think actively about this. I'm not sure yet what this means for me personally, besides removing myself from a shared space if my emotions threaten to become the focus where they shouldn't be, but I would welcome input on this.
I want to talk about gender more generally here as well. ADHD is dramatically underdiagnosed in women, and I have to wonder if some part of this is because emotional disregulation lines up so nicely with the stereotypes of women’s emotions in the first place. Oh, you cry a lot? Of course you do, you’re a woman. One can only wonder how many oldey-timey diagnoses of “hysteria” were actually ADHD. Even now women with ADHD are usually misdiagnosed several times with things like depression or bipolar disorder before we are tested and diagnosed properly. This wasn’t my experience, but after basically doing a bunch of research and self-diagnosing I was able (thanks to a great deal of economic privilege) to pay to go directly to an ADHD specialist. I also walked into that office with an extremely thorough bullet-point list I had compiled of reasons I suspected I had ADHD—it was probably the easiest diagnosis the doctor ever did. So obviously having ADHD while female isn’t the best combination, but when it comes specifically to crying easily that being treated as relatively normal definitely meant I had an easier time with it than my brother did.
My brother (who is nonbinary and uses a variety of pronouns—I’ll probably alternate between they/them and he/him here because it is important to the story that they were perceived as male at the time) cries just as easily as I do, and just as often. When we were little kids, this didn’t make too much of a difference. They’re a couple years younger than me, and little kids are expected to cry more. They haven’t been diagnosed with ADHD, but they and I both strongly suspect for a variety of reasons, this included, that they have it too—I believe they were flagged for it in school, probably for frequently talking out of turn, but I don’t think they were ever tested formally. He got in trouble in school a lot more than I did, for similar outbursts, and while he got quite a few of those same counseling sessions (white privilege at work again), he got more actual discipline as well. But the perception of our tears landed differently, especially as we got older.
For the most part, the scorn leveled at my brother’s tears didn’t come from our parents. My mom, (who, while also not officially diagnosed, I can almost guarantee is where we got the ADHD genes from) cries as easily as they and I do, so she understands it. My dad would certainly prefer to think of himself as an enlightened modern man who would say it’s ok to cry, but he has his share of ingrained toxic masculinity despite himself. I don’t think I ever saw him tell my brother directly to “suck it up” or “act like a man,” but I do think after puberty or so he started responding to my brother’s tears with a sort of exasperation that he never directed at me.
The real difference was in how we were treated by our peers. By the time we got to high school, if I would cry at school, my peers (even ones who weren’t necessarily my friends) would probably ask what was wrong and try to help or provide comfort, or at least would leave me alone and give me time to pull myself together. When my brother cried at school, he was mocked. Relentlessly. Once bullies figured out that he cried easily, he was targeted and goaded specifically for it. They would find any little thing they could to get under his skin (right down to the most childish with rhyming nicknames) and troll him for fun. I wish I could say that I stood up for him, but I never did. I can tell myself this was because I didn’t see it happen in person, being two grades ahead, but I could have made an effort. Although, since he was almost certainly targeted at least in part for perceived failure to live up to masculine gender norms, I’m not sure if having an older sister try to come to the rescue would have helped or made things worse. At this point it’s years past, so I suppose speculation on what I could have or should have done is pretty moot at this point. Suffice it to say, this particular symptom which rarely did me any harm made my brother’s life a lot harder.
I may talk more about different perceptions of my brother’s and my ADHD symptoms in a later essay/ramble/entry/whatever, in particular how it affected out academic performances, but that’s for another time.
Again, I’m not sure if there are any greater conclusions here. There are a lot of ways emotional disregulation can present, and I really only addressed this one small aspect of excessive crying, but it is a good example of how even lesser-known ADHD symptoms can affect our lives in cascading ways, and the way people perceive those symptoms (due to various more visible identity factors) affects us as well. If you read all of this, thanks, and if you have any experiences you’d like to share with how your emotional disregulation has been perceived by others, I’d love to hear them. Until next time!
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Found Families - Home is Where the Hart is - Chapter Ten
We have reached chapter number ten. I have recently realised this series is going to be quite long so I hope you keep enjoying this seemingly never-ending fic because we have a long way to go. Now this scene has been one a lot of people have been commenting about and I loved writing it despite how long it took me. So, I hope you enjoy it all as well. Thanks.
Masterlist
Summary: Logan finally meets Patton’s children. (And is an absolute savage while doing so)
Word Count: 5662
Warnings: Child abuse, past child abuse, past bad experiences with orphanages, anxiety, skipping meals, self-deprecation, description of bruises and injuries, self-harm (Logan intentionally silences himself by hurting himself I wasn’t sure what to labelled it as), murder mention, nightmare mention, panic attack mention. (If there are any I have missed please let me know).
It was another five days before Patton returned to the Orphanage, this time with his children in tow. He had called to arrange a session almost immediately after gaining Roman and Virgil’s approval, but not before calling Emile to tell him the good news. He spent his morning; coaxing Roman out of bed, urging Dee to change into anything other than his snake printed pyjamas and convincing Virgil that Logan wasn’t going to hate him. All before 9 am. When they did manage to actually get out of the front door and into the car, an awkward silence hung over the family. Roman - who had called shotgun - remained surprisingly quiet. Hart family car rides usually consisted of three things; the consistent tapping against Virgil’s phone screen, bickering over who controls the radio and Roman’s belting of show tunes. None of which were present.
Roman sat, leaning on one elbow, staring aimlessly out of the car window, watching the blurry colours and shapes fly by. While Virgil - who Patton watched through the rear view mirror - fiddled with galaxy printed fidget cube, gifted to him by Emile on his very first therapy session and had used regularly ever since. The rapid, repetitive clicking of buttons filled the thick, uncomfortable silence, as well as the soft music being emitted from the car radio.
“Hey, everything is going to be alright. If you feel uncomfortable or want to leave at any point, we will and try again another time,” Patton reassured, catching the attention of his children. “Nothing will change the fact that you all are my sons and I love you all very much,”.
“We know padre,” Roman said finally moving away from the window to flick through the radio stations before pausing on a upbeat, cheesy pop song, humming along with the tune.
“Jeez dad, sappy much,” Virgil groaned but the previously anxious fidgeting had settled somewhat.
“So, you are both okay with this?” Patton asked a hint of hesitation present in his voice.
“Yeah we are. Right Roman?” Virgil said leaning forward to rest his elbows on the back of Roman’s seat.
“Fine, fine. I promise I’ll try and be nice to the nerd,” Roman sighed sinking deeper into his seat. “But don’t expect me to like it,”.
Patton giggled and at long last the small bubble of anxiety which had been building within his chest had vanished completely, replaced by a flowering sensation of pride and unconditional love for his children. The jigsaw puzzle of his dreams were coming together piece by piece, nearing its completion and this was the final step in uniting his family. Patton could imagine another person sat in his well-loved, baby blue Ford Focus, engaging in passion-fuelled debates regarding everything from Disney movies to classic poetry, humming along to the radio, arguing over who controls the radio and filling the empty seat as well as the empty spot in the family.
“Alright kiddos, we’re here,” Patton announced, pulling up to the Orphanage, glancing out his window at the rather imposing building he would be glad never to see again.
Roman and Virgil had both gone silent, Patton had expected that. Neither had overall great experience with the orphanages and care homes they were in. Roman had been floating within the system since birth, remaining at the same orphanage for the first six years of his life until Patton arrived, where he was berated for his misbehaviours caused by his then undiagnosed ADHD, labelled as a misfit instead of gaining the attention he needed. While Virgil and Dee were constantly being transferred, jumping from home to home, never settling in one place for to long before being forced to pack up and leave again because of their complex situation and Virgil’s trauma. Orphanages brought up bad memories for them and as he entered, balancing Dee on his hip, he kept both close to his sides.
Mrs Davis, who at this point he had interacted with on several occasions was, as per usual sat at the front desk, typing away listlessly on her computer until she caught a glimpse of Patton herding his three children through the doors, eyes widening at the sight.
“Mr Hart, lovely to see you again. I wasn’t aware you were bringing guests,” Mrs Davis said her surprise evident in her tone.
“It nice to see you again too, and yes these are my children. I am bringing them to meet Logan today,” Patton explained in the quickest possible way, to avoid any further dilly-dallying as with the extra attention Virgil had already hidden himself entirely behind Patton’s leg.
“Children. Oh I didn’t know you had children, how precious. You and your wife must be busy with this lot,” Mrs Davis exclaimed her red shiny lips stretching into a sickly sweet smile, directed towards Dee who burrowed his face into Patton’s chest, concealing his burn scar. Patton sighed internally, the conversation felt far to similar to the unpleasant one he shared with Madame Claire only a few short weeks ago.
“There is no wife, it is only me and my kiddo,” Patton reiterated for what felt like the hundredth time. “Now may I go and see Logan now?”.
“Ah yes, of course. He is waiting for you in your usual room,” Mrs Davis said attempting to and failing at hiding the shock painted across her features.
“Thank you,” He said with a smile as he took Virgil’s hand, preparing to make his way to his and Logan’s regular meeting room but a large and imposing figure stood in his way. Madame Claire.
“Mr Hart, a pleasure to see you again,” Madame Claire said completely blocking his path forward, forcing him to meet her gaze, her too wide smirk ever-present on her lips.
“Ah yes, you too. But I apologise we really do have to get going,” Patton said quickly hoping to escape the commanding matrons presence as politely as possible, though it was a challenge to restrain the harsh words he did wish to speak to her, he persisted. Maintaining his smile throughout the interaction.
“Of course, do not let me keep you,” She said at long last stepping aside to allow Patton to pass and continue his journey to Logan without delay.
“Who was that?” Roman whispered once they were out of earshot or a ‘Roman whisper’ as Patton liked to refer to them, as they were considerably louder than a typical whisper.
“The owner and head-matron, she doesn’t like me very much,” Patton explained recalling their first interaction, secretly glad he hadn’t had any run-ins with her since then.
“Why?” Virgil asked cocking his head to one side, his too-long fringe flopping over his eyes with the movement.
“It’s…it’s a long story,” Patton said after some deliberation, definitely not wishing to tell his son what he actually thought about the woman. “Now, here we are,”.
As they arrived in front of the meeting room door Virgil’s grip tightened on his hand and Roman pressed into his side. Patton pushed open the door, revealing Logan who smiled the moment he sighted them and Patton prayed for this meeting to go well, bringing him one step closer to inviting Logan to join his family.
Logan had waited in anxious anticipation since he woke this morning, forgoing breakfast because of the anxiety-driven churning of his stomach and he did not trust his ability to keep food down. He had spent the greater majority of his morning spent in Maggie’s office, pacing - as per usual - relaying to her all of his fears and anxieties regarding the upcoming meeting with Patton’s children. Who he reminded himself that Patton spoke extremely highly of. She countered every single worry, claiming them to be cognitive distortions and the meeting would go fine if he would just be himself but Logan wasn’t so certain. He informed on several occasions he had a less than favourable personality. Too boring, spouting facts and information only he would ever find interesting. He was too aloof and robotic to connect with other children his age and that is what he was afraid of. Patton’s children finding him too dull and uninteresting, urging Patton to cease his visits and give up on him completely.
Logan found himself now, sat in his armchair, lessening the strain on his aching body. The bruises had faded over the weak from a vibrant purple to a muted yellow and sickly green with patches of brown predominantly covering the back of his calves, his lower back and dark rings around his wrists stretching up his arms. The persistent clicking of his shoulder joint had settled, the pain dulling to mild discomfort with any sudden movements and the shallows cuts had almost vanished completely. To conceal his injuries he had worn a long sleeve shirt, which had previously been owned by another orphan and considerably to large on him but the extra length allowed him to pull the sleeves down to cover his wrists and hands, ending just below his fingertips. His book ‘The Murder of Rodger Ackroyd’ sat in his lap, having had been returned to him by Maggie who retrieved it from Madame Claire’s office but he made no move to open it. Merely tracing the pads of his fingers along the binding and smooth cover as he watched the door, awaiting Patton’s arrival.
Logan did not have to wait long as a short while later he heard three sets of footsteps coming down the corridor and not but a moment later the door burst open, revealing four figures. Patton, his lips curled into their usual warm smile which he returned, in his arms he held a toddler who held a snake stuffed animal in his curled fist and two other boys stood on either side of him.
“Hiya Logan, I’m sorry it has been so long since I last saw you. And these are my children; Roman, Virgil and Declan but we all call him Dee,” Patton said gesturing to each of his sons as he spoke their names.
Roman, the eldest presumably as he was significantly taller than the others, stood on Patton’s right, arms folded across his chest. His appearance was considerably different than his siblings which made sense as Patton informed him they were adopted from separate orphanages, several years apart. He has a bronzed complexion, stiff auburn curls and bright emerald coloured eyes, visible even at this distance, accentuated with a splodge of colour on his upper lid. He was dressed casually and rather impractically in an all white outfit, white t-shirt and white tight fitting trousers, underneath a glossy red jacket embroidered with a yellow crown. From his body language and disinterested expression, Logan inferred Roman was not entirely pleased to be there, which only heightened the unease building within his stomach.
Virgil - Logan took note of the unusual name - stood on the opposite side of Patton, partially hidden behind him. He was substantially shorter than Roman, in his slouched over position, but stretched to his full height Logan assumed he would lie a few inches shorter than himself. He was pale, with straight jet black hair with a long fringe which partially concealed his eyes from view but from the small visible section, revealed sharp steel grey eyes and under his eyes were dark purple bruises - evidence of a poor sleep schedule. His outfit was a dramatic contrast to his brother’s, everything he wore was black; black t-shirt, black trousers and black shoes, expect from the purple patches sown onto his oversized black hoodie which drowned his thin frame. He wore black gloves indoor which Logan thought rather strange but considered the fact he may have poor circulation and used the gloves to keep his hands warm. Virgil appeared noticeably anxious, unlike Roman, by the way he curled into Patton’s side, hands fisted into his hoodie, attempting to hide their visible tremble.
The third Declan or Dee as Patton referred to him was balanced on Patton’s hip. He and Virgil were most similar in appearance, he remembered Patton telling him the two were biologically related which explained the similarities. He shared the same dark locks as Virgil but where Virgil’s were straight Dee had unruly curls which bounced with every movement but that was where the resemblance ended. A large burn scar on the right side of his face, across his right eye and stretching down his neck and presumably a lot lower, the sight startled Logan and the strangest of sensations built in his chest but he fought to not allow the shock to show on his face. He also had a heterochromia with one blue eye and one hazel eye, which sparkled as he glanced around the room at the wide variety of toys and games strewn around the room.
“Salutations Patton. And it is nice to meet you all,” Logan said attempting to conceal the slight waver in his voice.
Patton set Declan down, allowing him to run as fast as his chubby legs would carry him and play with the toys available, following behind him, silently urging Roman and Virgil towards the armchair.
“Ugh, what are we to do now?” Roman muttered underneath his breath.
“I suppose Patton wanted to allow us to break the figurative ice between us,” Logan explained as Roman rolled his eyes and Virgil remained silent, glancing between the two, fidgeting with a cube shaped object.
“You don’t have to say figuratively, I know what you mean,” Roman replied folding his arms across his chest.
“I believe I do, as there is no ice in the vicinity for me to break. Also because we reside in Florida it would be extremely improbable for there to be ice and I do not possess the strength to break ice,” Logan stated.
“Wow, you are such a nerd. Even your clothes are nerdy,” Roman said the mockery present in his tone. Logan glanced down at the outfit he wore almost every day. What was wrong with it?
“What is wrong with my clothes?” Logan challenged generally confused by Roman’s statement.
“I mean look at them, they are so nerdy. What are you wearing?” Roman taunted pointing towards his chest, at his too large shirt.
“I could ask you the same question,” Logan said the automatic response fell from his lips without a second thought and the entire room was silent. Until Virgil doubled over in uncontrollable laughter, releasing soft snorts, the first noise Logan had heard from him. Breaking the increasingly uncomfortable silence.
“I…I,” Roman gawked mouth opening then closing again, the rebuttal dying on his tongue, evidently not expecting Logan’s quick-witted response from his elongated silence. His face curled into a scowl and in one fluid motion he turned and left, slamming the door behind him.
“Don’t worry, I’ll go and get him,” Patton called him, balancing Dee on his hip and following behind Roman leaving Logan and Virgil behind.
The adrenaline had faded as quickly as it arrived and his brain finally caught up with his mouth, as he realised what he had said. He slapped a hand across his treacherous mouth, digging his nails into his chest, relishing in the sting as he internally berated himself for his hurtful words. Roman hated him. Roman was Patton’s son. He had insulted Patton’s son. Patton was going to hate him now, he was going to realise talking to him was a mistake and he was never going to come and see him again. He was…
Virgil had finally managed to compose himself, wiping the tears from his cheeks. Maybe this guy wasn’t such a stick in the mud after all and any one who could get Roman that frustrated was worth keeping around. Virgil glanced towards Logan, who had been unusually silent, when he noticed him with one hand clamped over his mouth, nails digging painfully into his skin. He was going to hurt himself at this rate.
“Hey, stop that. You’ll hurt yourself,” Virgil said tugging Logan hand away from his face, also breaking him out of the presumably negative mental spiral he was trapped in, leaving angry red indentures behind.
“I apologise, I did not mean to insult Roman. It just slipped out,” Logan explained lowering his head, tracing his fingers across the cover of the book in his lap.
“Don’t worry about it, he’ll get over it,” Virgil said with a shrug, hopping onto the armrest of Logan’s armchair, pulling out his phone to scroll through Tumblr. “Dude, that was a sick burn though,”.
“I’m afraid I do not understand, words cannot cause physical injury,” Logan said turning toward Virgil, cocking his head to one side in confusion.
“No, I mean you roasted him good,” Virgil reiterated. Jeez this guy was a nerd.
“A roast but there was no meat involved. Are you making fun of me because this is very different than I am used to,” Logan said with a furrowed brow. Oh no Logan thought he was bullying him, he was going to hate him now and all hope of becoming friends were going to be ruined because of him.
“No, no. I mean it was a good insult,” He explained praying Logan would understand and he could salvage what he almost destroyed.
“Oh, I believe I understand now,” Logan said after a moment of thought and Virgil released an internal sight of relief. He hadn’t ruined it completely. “Virgil, like the Roman poet,”.
“I guess,” Virgil said not knowing quite how else to respond. He didn’t like his name, it was weird and made him stick out, he couldn’t recall at time when someone didn’t comment on it.
A silence fell over the pair and alarm bells were set off in his mind. Nobody was speaking. Was he supposed to say something now? What would he say? Would Logan say something? Should he just say something? But what if he started speaking while Logan started speaking, leading them to speaking over each other and make everything even more awkward then they already were.
“Um Virgil…Does Patton hate me now,” Logan asked his voice low, barely a whisper. Virgil had to strain his hearing just to understand what he was saying. The question surprised Virgil, it was the sort of thing he thought on a daily basis but Patton had mentioned briefly that Logan had, had a difficult upbringing like himself. So maybe they were more alike the he originally thought.
“You could murder someone and Patton would never hate you,” Virgil stated with a chuckle, recalling the numerous times Uncle Emile repeated the same phrase to him whenever he doubted Patton’s love for him.
“I would never kill anyone,” Logan exclaimed Virgil burst out laughing once again at the look of horror on Logan’s face.
“It’s just an expression, besides me and Roman do it all the time. When we first met we hated each other, we were constantly at each others throats, calling each other mean nicknames and bickering over every little thing. I guess it was kind of how we bonded, through being mean to each other,” Virgil said reminiscing on the thousands of arguments shared between the two brothers, over the most random of topics.
“I thought you were supposed to be siblings?” Logan questioned.
“Yeah, that is just how most brothers are,” Virgil responded with a nonchalant shrug. “We aren’t as bad now, we tolerate each other more but he is still a pain in the neck,”.
Logan had gone quiet again, the uncomfortable silence weighted heavily of Virgil’s shoulders. He really hated silence so he did something entirely out of character he talked. He talked about anything and everything. He talked about his rocky relationship with Roman; every argument, their stupid nicknames, passion-fuelled debates about Disney movies. He talked about his own crappy orphanage experiences; the constant moving, the nagging matrons, finally meeting Patton for the very first time - which didn’t go very well. He talked about life living with Patton; the weekly movie nights, family dinners around the table, all of his dumb dad jokes. And Logan listened. Nodding along to his stories with a small smile on his face.
“So, this is a pretty decent place,” Virgil said glancing around the moderately sized meeting room, filled with toys, books, games and activities. It was much nicer than the orphanages he was placed in when he was younger.
“Oh, yes,” Logan mumbled shifting in his seat, wincing when he pressed to harshly on one spot. Virgil took notice of this as well as the dark rings around Logan’s wrists visible when his sleeve slipped down with a dramatic flick of the wrist, only to he hidden away a moment later. His heart seized at the sight of the bruises, of the well concealed wince of pain. It was a sight he knew well. Hiding pain behind a mask. Someone was hurting Logan.
“Virgil, are you alright?” Logan asked a hint of concern present in his voice and Virgil instantly snapped back to reality.
“Yeah sorry. So, what do you think of my dad?” Virgil asked quickly changing the subject.
“Patton has been an interesting test subject,” Logan replied lowering his head once again, focusing his attention back on his book which he hadn’t actually opened yet.
“Test subject?” Virgil inquired.
“Since meeting Patton, I have been studying his behaviours and attitudes to determine his motives and why he…,” Logan cut himself off abruptly as if he didn’t want to speak the last part.
“Why he what?” Virgil pressed.
“Choose me,” Logan admitted with a sigh, after a elongated silence. “There are numerous more suitable children than I. So, why did he choose me? I am still trying to figure out the answer,”.
“He probably thinks you need help,” Virgil said with a shrug. His dad was a fixer. He found broken people, took them in and fixed him, bringing them into his family or famILY as he liked to call it. Caring, it was what he was good at. Caring for those who society deemed unlovable.
“Did he help you?” Logan asked turning once again toward Virgil.
“Yeah, he did,” Virgil answered recalling the moments when his thoughts were too loud and he felt he was drowning in his own mind. When crippling nightmares took hold during his most vulnerable points and Patton stood by him. Holding him on the nights when his anxiety reared its ugly head, helping him through numerous panic attacks when he felt he might die.
Virgil thanked Patton everyday for adopting him and his brother, giving them a life they never would have received otherwise. Loving them both whole-heartedly despite Virgil’s messed up mental health. He couldn’t have asked for a better dad.
It didn’t take Patton very long to locate Roman. He was sat in the foyer, his knees pulled in tight to his chest and his face was hidden in his hands. Patton adjusted his hold on Dee before approaching Roman who startled as he sat beside him.
“Dad, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I know I said I would be nice to Logan, I’m sorry. It just slipped out. I really tried. I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry,” Roman frantically rambled, apologising again and again without pausing to take a breath.
Patton recognised this to be one of Roman’s regular spirals, where his brain was moving to quickly, forcing the flow of words out out him. At this rate, he would soon start hyperventilating. So, in order to break the cycle he placed Dee into Roman’s lap who playfully tapped on Roman’s cheeks, giving him something else to focus on rather than the spiralling thoughts in his head.
“I know, I know. I’m not mad sweetheart but I need you to breathe for me. Can you do that for me?” Patton asked softly placing on hand on Roman’s shoulder and the other he brushed through his hair, encouraging him to slow his breathing which he eventually did, his previously sharp breaths evening out and he slumped against Patton.
“I’m sorry,” Roman murmured into Patton’s chest. “I’m really sorry,”.
“Whatever for?” Patton asked stroking Roman’s hair as Dee busied himself with his toy snake.
“I was mean to Logan, I promised to be nice to him but I wasn’t,” Roman admitted burrowing his face deeper into Patton’s shirt, staining it with tears.
“Roman, look at me,” Patton said lifting Roman’s chin in order to meet his watery gaze. “While yes, what you said wasn’t very kind. You can still fix it can’t you, by apologising to Logan,”.
“You were frustrated because Logan didn’t understand your expression but that is just how some peoples brains work, it takes a little longer for them to figure out,” Patton explained brushing his thumb along Roman’s cheekbones, wiping away any fallen tears. “And if it makes you feel any better, I’m sure Logan is feeling the exact same way,”.
“You think so?” Roman asked lifting his head, scrubbing away the remainder of his tears.
“I know so,” Patton replied taking Dee from Roman, balancing him on his hip and extending his free hand towards Roman who took it bashfully, pulling himself to his feet. “Should we go back now?”.
“Yeah, okay,” Roman said refusing to let go of Patton’s hand as he lead him down the corridor, back to the meeting room.
Once they returned to the meeting room Patton was surprised to see Virgil perched on the arm rest of Logan’s arm chair, talking animatedly while Logan sat quietly listening, a small smile creeping onto his face. Patton almost teared up at the sight. He had never witnessed Virgil open up to anyone this quickly before, talking freely with such ease, his fidget cube sitting unused in his lap. Patton’s anxieties regarding his children’s opinions of Logan vanished in an instant, watching how easily Virgil and Logan had managed to connect in such a short time, he thought maybe his dream would come true much sooner than he expected.
“Go on,” Patton encouraged ruffling his hair before urging him forward as Logan and Virgil halted their conversation, taking notice of them standing in the doorway.
“Um Logan, what I said wasn’t very prince-like. So, I’m sorry,” Roman said fidgeting with the zipper of his jacket, looking anywhere else other than Logan’s eyes.
“Prince-like?” Logan inquired glancing at Virgil for an explanation.
“Roman used to think he was a prince,” Virgil stated with a shrug, shooting a smirk in Roman’s direction.
“I did not!” Roman spluttered, scowling, crossing his arms across with chest with a pout, face flushed with embarrassment. Patton chuckled at the exchanged. Roman was swiftly approaching his teenage years, preparing to leave his childhood between but Patton knew he would never entirely abandoned his love for the imaginary despite his stubborn assurances. “But, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said you were a nerd. Even though you are,”.
“You are forgiven,” Logan said obviously catching Roman off guard by the evident flinch. “I also feel I need to apologise,”.
“Why?” Roman questioned.
“I was also rude to you, I believe that warrants an apology. So, I am sorry,” Logan responded. Patton smiled at him, catching his eye over Roman’s shoulder.
“Uh…um…yeah whatever,” Roman stuttered before he turned swiftly, returning to Patton’s side by the door, a blush still present on his cheeks.
“Times almost up kiddos. Do you mind if I have a little chat with Logan before we leave?” Patton asked handing Dee over to Virgil once he had hopped off his perch, holding his brother securely in his arms and walking toward the exit where Roman was still stood.
“Virgil wait!” Logan called out to Virgil, holding out a small cube-shaped object the the palm of his hand. Virgil’s fidget cube. “You dropped this,”.
“Keep it, I have loads at home,” Virgil said with a shy smile. Logan merely nodded, curling his fingers around his star-printed cube, thumbing over each individual side.
“Okay kiddos, go wait in the foyer. I’ll only be a minute,” Patton said.
After Virgil and Dee said their goodbyes to Logan, Roman simply gave him a curt nod, before they disappeared down the corridors. Patton approached the armchair where Logan sat, kneeling in front of it, Logan was still smiling at the fidget toy in his hand, presumably admiring the pattern. It was of space - this favourite subject - after-all.
“I’m guessing you got along well with Virgil then,” Patton said smiling warmly at Logan who jolted back to reality as Patton spoke.
“Yes, he shared many interesting stories with me,” Logan replied eyes brighter than they had been when Patton arrived. It was rare for Virgil to talk to anyone outside of the family but it seemed Logan was an exception to that rule.
“He is a good kid, they all are. And they have been through so much and…and I-I am just so p-proud of them,” Patton sniffled his eyes stung with tears but he fought against them, so not to alarm Logan but his efforts were all for naught as the waterworks began to flow.
The moment Logan saw the tears spill from Patton’s eyes and rolled down his cheeks, his brain went into hyper-drive, flashing through all of the possible reasons for Patton’s sudden sadness. What had brought on such a reaction? Was it Logan’s doing? The sight made Logan’s heart hurt in a way he had never experienced before, seeing Patton sad it wasn’t a sight he ever wanted to see again. Logan wanted to make it better but he didn’t know how to comfort someone. Would Patton respond the physical reassurance or verbal? Would be wanted to be touched or would be prefer to be left alone. Logan didn’t know. He hated not knowing. But then he had an idea, he had witnessed and been the recipient of Patton’s comforting tactics. Maybe Patton would appreciate the same treatment.
“Um…there, there,” Logan said extending his hand, sinking it into Patton’s unruly curls, moving his hand back and forth like he had witnessed Patton do for both Roman and Virgil during their own moments of upset. But Logan had to admit he was a little surprised when Patton burst into a fit of giggles.
“Aw Logan, you’re so sweet. Don’t worry, I’m not sad,” Patton said with a smile despite the tears and Logan was momentarily confused.
“But you are crying,” Logan said gesturing to the tears tracks staining Patton’s cheeks who quickly wiped them away but the smile remained.
“They were happy tears,” Patton announced with a giggle. Logan had never made the connection between the function of crying with any other emotion other than sadness, he had never known crying to be anything other than a sign of weakness but Patton expressed all of his emotions good or bad without shame or humiliation. It reinforced his theory that Patton was a rather confusing person but one he wished to understand and to be around, though he hadn’t quite figured out an exact reason why. But he liked it.
And maybe, just maybe emotions weren’t such a bad thing.
Notes: Logan’s reaction to insulting Roman would be the exact same as mine if I was ever in a confrontation. Saying something which could be considered mean and immediately regretting it. A reminder, yes Virgil is actually ten. Yes he is very mature for his age. If anyone says anything about it you can fight me (just kidding, please don’t I’m soft).
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#sander sides#sander sides au#logan sanders#patton sanders#roman sanders#virgil sanders#deceit sanders#sympathetic deceit#Adoption AU#Logic sanders#Morality sanders#creativity sanders#anxiety sanders#thomas sanders#found families#home is where the hart is#My writing#My fic#original characters
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Let’s Watch Heartcatch Pretty Cure! Episodes 4 & 5
I’ve got a twofer for y’all today. My first, in fact! Two episodes that introduce new villains and go for some solid morals about growing up, let’s dive right in.
Episode 4 - The Precure partnership is already dissolved?!
This episode actually starts with a cold open, which is not something I really knew this franchise did. Still, it’s a neat way to really get the narrative moving at the jump, which is useful here, because this episode moves along at a pretty steady clip.
The cold open details the girls--well, mostly just Marine, we’ll get to that in a second--taking out a Desertrian. This one created not by Sasorina, but by new arrival Kurojacky, who kind of looks like he’s just stepped out of Captain Harlock.
This guy is the token “honorable” villain, which the episode makes clear at several points a bit later on. The girls go at the Desertrian but Blossom kind of bungles her half of the super awesome combination attack and Marine ends up beating the thing basically by herself. If you’re looking for a sum-up of the intro, it’s basically these two pictures:
This episode’s core makes itself apparent pretty quickly. Tsubomi feels that both as Cure Blossom and in general, she’s just not as good at things as Erika is. Erika, being her usual somewhat blockheaded self, does not really pick up on this insecurity, setting up the episode’s central conflict.
Despite what the title might imply, the two don’t actually fight per se. Tsubomi seems about as taken with Erika’s can-do attitude as anyone else.
It is more of an insecurity thing, something that’s by now establishing itself as a running theme of her character.
This is something that repeats throughout the episode. And not just repeats, but is mirrored in the relationship between the two characters-of-the-week, a pair of tennis players. The parallel is pretty clear; as Tsubomi runs her overactive imagination in circles, envisioning Erika leaving her
The taller of the tennis player girls stresses that her partner is going to leave her because she’s the weaker member of their team.
Sidebar here: the term “partner” is used a lot in this episode, and while it’s probably not intended to be read with any romantic undertones, it’s certainly easy to read that way if you want to.
After Erika gives some poorly-worded advice to the tennis girl, Tsubomi misinterprets, and thinks Erika wants to break off their partnership. This leads to her running home in tears and seeking comfort in um, the bosom of the big furry thing, Coupe.
I think I’m just going to accept that this guy is cuter if you’re like, 12, and move on.
Meanwhile Erika is having an issue of her own. Tsubomi ran off, and she understands that it’s her fault *somehow* but she isn’t really sure how. Her older sister also appears--fairylike--to offer her some advice of her own, which she also doesn’t really get. Plainly; both girls have flaws. Tsubomi’s is her low self-esteem, and Erika’s is her tendency to speak without thinking.
But it’s worth pausing to note here that the show doesn’t really seem to place any blame on either of them for this. They are, after all, young girls navigating the confusing world of social relationships. Tsubomi has anxiety to deal with, and Erika has a lack of social graces. As another, potentially controversial sidebar, Erika rather seems autistic to me. I don’t expect the show to ever address this directly (it’s a children’s program after all and those tend toward the broad as opposed to the specific. See also Star Twinkle Precure’s most recent episode, which is not directly about cultural diversity but also, is super about cultural diversity), but as someone with ADHD, a lot of this just seems rather, well, familiar. But perhaps I’m projecting.
And we get the capper on that with the fight in this episode. Which is fairly short. Kurojacky transforms the tennis girl into a Desertrian that uses a rollbar to mow down the tennis fence and menace several nearby students--appropriately, it’s deemed Roller. Tsubomi and Erika work out their misunderstanding, and Erika actually says this after learning why Tsubomi was upset, which I feel like lends credence to my aforementioned headcanon (do people still say that? Eh, whatever. I do)
The misunderstanding cleared up, Marine reassures Blossom that yes, of course she does want to be her partner. Again, maybe it’s just me, but the implications at least on the part of whoever wrote the script really seem to border on romantic here.
I mean jeez she even winks and a heart comes out.
They destroy the Desertrian, recapturing the heart flower and healing the tennis girl (who also makes up with her partner) and, well, basically roll credits.
Yeah, that’d be the moral summed up nice and neatly at the episode’s end. Pleasant ain’t it?
This was a cute episode, and the message is one that a lot of little girls probably need to hear. Friendship is important, and knowing how to maintain friendships (and relationships in general really, whether they’re platonic, romantic, or whatever else) is one of the most important life skills a person can learn full stop. So it’s nice to see it addressed here. Plus, we’ve got a new villain. I should also mention that there’s a vague mention of the Desert folkz wanting to make people despair so they can conquer the world which I think is the first direct mention we get of their motives, but it’s been pretty obvious so I didn’t bring it up. All of this is cool, and that’s another solid episode in the show’s bag.
Episode 5 - Rejected Ramen! Heal the Father-Son bond!
This episode’s title cuts right to the chase. Immediately it tells you three things. There’s a father, a son, and a bond between them that needs to be healed. Also, ramen. We’re introduced to the ramen shop owner’s son, Akira, in the episode’s opening minute.
There’s no real beating around the bush this time around either. The episode quickly establishes that the core conflict is between Akira, who was initially supportive of his father’s ramen business but is now finding it cutting into his time to play baseball, and his aforementioned father.
There’s some nice fluff in the first part of the episode unrelated to this though. Firstly, we get Tsubomi showing off a knack for flower arrangements. She suggests adding a splash of the (unfortunately named, but it is what they’re really called) rapeseed blossom flower to a bouquet to give it some more “Spring-ness”, which she is promptly praised for. It’s nice to see the show have someone directly praise Tsubomi, since it’s been made clear she’s kind of insecure. It shows her parents understand their daughter pretty well.
Next, the fairies come to Erika and Tsubomi, expressing that they’re hungry. What follows is an honestly kind of bizarre scene where Erika roots around in Coupe’s....heart patch....thing to pull out some kind of magical sippy cup for the fairies.
I imagine said cup was the hot new toy (or maybe it was just an actual thermos? Who knows) product the show had to shill. Still, it’s a pretty ungraceful piece of product placement. It did give us this absolutely amazing Erika expression though, so it’s certainly not all bad.
There’s a short scene further reinforcing the conflict between Akira and his father, but before we get much else, there’s a cut to the Desert Apostles’ fortress, where we’re introduced to a third bad guy, and hoo boy.
This is Kobraja. Fabulous, isn’t he? This show seems to really enjoy drawing adults as though they’ve stepped out of some heavily-stylized 90s series. I really dig it, though I feel like Kobraja’s overtly-femme appearance might land on just the wrong side of stereotypical. I’d say I’m reaching, but I was apparently not the only person with this thought.
Never change, NIHON TV. Anyway he vows to succeed where the other two villains failed. Sure he will.
We see another short scene where Akira is offered a bowl of ramen by his dad, which he promptly rebuffs.
He doesn’t actually *do* much here other than grit his teeth and look generally angry (the life of a young teen boy can be a stressful one indeed), which I found a little surprising. Kids’ shows tend to lend themselves well to explosive outbursts of emotion, which this is too restrained to really be that, although probably more realistic. He does yell a bit later but it’s still more restrained than is the norm with this sort of thing. An interesting writing / directorial choice to be certain.
MEANWHILE OUTSIDE
Good lord.
But, y’all know the drill by this point. Kobraja finds Akira angsting outside, and we promptly advance from Soccer Golems to Ramen Monsters.
Hilariously, after making his introduction, Kobraja tosses the girls some pocket-sized model shots of himself. The dude is a *fun* villain, if nothing else.
There’s two interesting things about the fight scene that follows. One is that it’s incredibly quality, with the ramen monster using His Noodly Appendages as whips and Cure Marine at one point skating along them like she’s going for a high score in Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater 2.
The second is that this is the first indication we get that the Desertrians can actually resist their “programming” to some extent, since shortly after the ramen monster accidentally hits Blossom it starts actually crying.
We’re told that this is because both the anger and not wanting to hurt his father are part of Akira’s true feelings, which makes some sense. Also, the kid’s voice actor deserves some serious credit for managing to put *genuine emotional pull* into the wailings of what I must reiterate, is a monster whose head is a giant bowl of ramen.
It doesn’t take much beyond some taunting from the villain to get Blossom to pull out her “I’m not going to stand for this!!” catchphrase (have I brought that up? It took me a while to even realize it was supposed to *be* a catchphrase) and before long we’re back in flower crucifixion territory.
I’m never going to get over this.
After defeating the ramen monster, it doesn’t take much for Akira and his dad to reconcile. Interestingly, it’s actually left ambiguous as to whether Akira’s parents remember the Desertrian attack or not, though I’d guess not.
I quite liked this episode. While the last one was solid I think I prefer this one. The interesting thing to me here is that the show seems to recognize that it’s not really Akira who’s messed up here, it’s his dad, and it’s accordingly his father who does most of the apologizing here.
That parents can also screw up--even just through inattention--is something I wish more kids’ shows acknowledged. Still, everything that ends with a hearty meal ends well, and the episode ends more or less on that exact note.
See y’all next time!
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Being a therapist is lonely and difficult.
Let me just say, I love my job. I work with delinquent youth at the most secure facility within my state. That's the most descript I can get in terms of describing the facility. My office is on the mental health unit where I'm assigned, so I'm in the thick of it, sometimes having to get involved in restraining these youth when they're acting violently. Compared to the other facilities in the state, we look like a prison (barbed wire fences, individual cells with a metal bed frame, desk, and toilet, must be buzzed through each door by a person in the security booth). However, we are a treatment facility and in my state, juveniles are not considered to be "inmates" and employees are not considered "correctional officers." We are staff. They are residents. This is a human services field.
Side note, I know some believe that adults should never put their hands on kids. I agree. Its hard to explain this job to anybody who has never been in it firsthand. I'm dealing with extremely violent youth. Yes, oftentimes (most times) many are acting out of emotion or trauma, and it is so hard to watch when you know they're not intending to harm others or when they're trying to stay safe themselves. Intervening in a physical manner is sometimes necessary to ensure and maintain safety when these youth are actively violent. There are some staff who go overboard or use restraints in, to put it gently, an entirely unacceptable manner. I've seen it firsthand, but I've also seen how higher up within the system they are embracing a no tolerance attitude whereas in the past a blind eye was turned. However, there is a time and a place where having to physically manage these youth in a safe way is unfortunately necessary, and in my specific position I have the advantage of teaching these kids ways to prevent themselves from becoming harmful as well as standing up for them if staff become out of line. Unlike others, I know these kids are just that, kids.
Back to my original point, this is a lonely and difficult job as a therapist. I end up playing multiple roles because of the nature of the job and where my office is located. To give some idea of what the specific youth I work with are like, they are (generally) between the ages of 16-21 (can be as young as 13, though that's rare), they have varying diagnoses. Most common being ADHD, Depression, Anxiety, PTSD, Autism Spectrum Disorder, Bipolar, and Intellectual Disabilities. Though we do often see other diagnoses such as Schizophrenia, Schizoaffective Disorder, Intermittent Explosive Disorder, and Oppositional Defiant Disorder. Many of them are violent. Many of them have problematic sexual behaviors (anywhere from exposing themselves to others to rape). Most of them have a history of trauma and abuse.
Although this sounds like a lot to deal with, they're still just kids who are struggling, and due to the nature of their histories and cognitive abilities, it's sometimes like working with younger children. They are needy, which is understandable due to their histories. Some of them have been completely abandoned by their parents and are completely alone.
Because of my caring nature and being around them frequently outside of therapy sessions, I'm considered the "mom" of the unit, which feels weird because I'm only 29 and nowhere near old enough to be a parent to these kids. I think that line gets blurred from therapist to "mom" because I also have to be an authority figure and hold them to their daily expectations and behavioral standards when I'm outside of sessions. I have to get involved in deciding consequences for major offenses committed while they are in the facility such as assaults and sexually acting out behaviors (law states there is no consent in placement/facilities). But I also am the person they want to see the most due to the nature of my position. I'm naturally good at what I do (the one time I feel confident enough to toot my own horn) and I'm as supportive, caring, and genuine as possible, which makes them form emotional bonds/attachments toward me. So I think because I have to be an authority figure on top of being their therapist, it gives off that motherly vibe. Which in any other setting I would say is problematic because it blurs the lines of my role, but its impossible to avoid in this environment, so I have to find creative ways to navigate this.
I do truly care about these kids which is hard to work through, especially because I have minimal supervision. When I say minimal, I mean my supervisor saw me in person three times last year. So I don't have any help in navigating how to properly maintain my boundaries.
On top of this, staff do not understand my role at all. There is only one other therapist in the facility. She used to be the only one for several years, and then two more were hired but left within a year (two years ago, which is when I was promoted). Most therapists do not want to work in this environment once they see what its like and how their offices are directly on the unit and how they have to get involved in restraints (blurring the line even further). I began as a line staff for a year before I was promoted (when the two other therapists left), and I was a line staff for three years at another facility, so I knew what I was getting into. But because there is such a high turnover for therapists and because we only had one for several years, staff have never seen what my position is supposed to look like, only what they've assumed. So I get a lot of scrutiny from staff. They criticize because they have no idea how difficult this position truly is. They believe its just therapy sessions. They don't understand that I also have to be an authority to residents, work on staff development, be a liaison with various probation officers, placing counties, judges, CYS workers, write court reports, testify in court, administer assessments, write psychological and psychosexual reports, etc. I have to train staff on various mental health topics, which is rough because I'm young for the position, so I'm often looked at as if I have no idea what I'm talking about.
Its hard for me to rely on the other therapist. On one hand, shes been in our facility for 10 years, so she knows the position inside and out. It's a very political position at times, and she is a big help for that. However, she doesn't connect with the kids. She's very invalidating and unsupportive of the emotions of her residents, and she's one of those people who are always right. So the kids don't enjoy her as much, and in return, she handles that by criticizing everything I do. Her way is the right way, even though many approaches can bring about the same result. But if it's not her approach, it's wrong. She's very traditional in the sense that she's very pro-medication and mainly talk therapy. I'm more holistic (I'm called the hippy therapist, and it's not inaccurate) and creative with my interventions, because I know the kids understand it more and it reduces their anxiety, helping them feel more safe to talk about their problems. Keep in mind these kids didn't ask to go to therapy or be here, so you have to get them to buy into it on top of finding a way to get them to trust after feeling like they can trust nobody (remember, trauma and abuse histories). So although I'm effective in what I do and I'm proud of it, I'm constantly facing scrutiny from those who don't understand and judgment from the other therapist, who is also 16 years older than me.
I feel like I have these super high standards I have to meet just to be taken seriously, and since nobody else understands my position, I don't have anybody to vent to who gets me. Even my own therapist doesn't truly understand. It's a very lonely feeling. With my own mental health issues on top of it all (anxiety, depression, abandonment issues, PTSD, life-long emotional neglect), its like I have no escape. I'm constantly anxious that I'm doing horribly. I just began working through my own trauma in therapy, so sometimes I end up feeling triggered by or identifying with my residents. Which again is hard to navigate on my own without supervision. My own therapist just abandoned me (I'll save that for a later post). My friends are line staff, so their job is safety and security. I have to train my own friends on mental health approaches, and they see it as more of casual conversation and suggestions instead of training and necessity. It feels like my own friends don't take me seriously.
I co-run the unit with a supervisor of two counselors (essentially case managers who also do individual sessions to address behaviors) and two lower-level supervisors of line staff. He is my equal, but he focuses on behavioral issues and structure of the unit, where I'm in charge of mental health. He has power and control issues, so he tries to take over completely and he tries to supervise me. As if that's not enough, his wife is the other therapist so he's constantly trying to push her agenda on my unit (she works on the unit that specializes in sexual behaviors, and she and I "share" the general population unit essentially for the city thug type kids involved with drugs, guns, robbery/theft, and violence). He's super critical, which sucks because all I want is his approval and to hear that I'm doing a good job. I know I'm effective.
I know my kids enjoy me and I want to cry just thinking of how much they are growing and progressing. It makes me super proud of them because all I do is validate and support, and teach them the tools and resources they need to be successful. But they're doing it on their own and it's so heartwarming. Where that makes it all worth it in the end, its still a difficult and lonely journey.
I wish it didn't feel so lonely.
#personal#personal post#therapy#juvenile therapist#adolescent therapist#my life as a therapist#therapist#mental health counseling#counseling#individual counseling#juvenile delinquency#juvenile justice#juveniles#adjudicated youth#mental illness#mental disorder#mental health#psychology#criminal justice#depression#anxiety#ptsd#schizophrenia#bipolar disorder#trauma#abuse#emotional abuse#child abuse#physical abuse
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why do good artists make bad ocs
Name: Kuraii Iskuss wanna explain
Gender: Male
Age: 10 sweeps
Blood: Neon Green HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Height: 5’10”
Tital tital : Knight of Time
Planet: Land of Volcanoes and Sundials
Trollian Handle: compassionateContamination
Typing Quirk: Begins with ’>°’ and ends with ‘°<’. Caps the first letter of each word. thanks but why
Ex: >° What Are You Talking About? I Did Nothing Wrong! °< absolutely the fuck you did
Strife Specibus Name: Scythekind & Swordkindx2
Name/Species of Lusus: Griffin (Mix between a Peregrine Falcon and a King Cheetah. With two set’s of wings. He calls it Kuro.) set’s
Living Space/Hive: Small sized hive in the woods. Just big enough for him and his lusus to live comfortably together. set’s
Powers: Psionics that greatly increase his speed.
Quadrants:
Matesprit♥: Hisana Kalain
Moirail♦: – Open
Kismesis♠: – (Reserved for REDACTED)
Personality: A rather strange individual, he normally spends his time alone or with the few friends he does have. He doesn’t really smile all that much, really only ever smiling or laughing when he’s with his friends or those he cares about. He suffers from depression, which is rather easy to see if you look in his eyes, but he tries to hide this as he doesn’t want to bother other’s with this problems. Though he looks and sometimes acts cold, he’s rather kind and hates to see other’s get hurt for no reason. When alone he will sometimes hug a large stuffed animal or his lusus and cry into it. He act’s like he doesn’t mind being alone, and sometimes it doesn’t really bother him, but most of the time he hates it and just wishes he had someone to talk with or at least just know there is someone else there. He is extremely shy when it comes to talking to new faces, normally going mute and avoiding eye contact, and when he does speak it’s in a rather low tone that is barely audible. He mostly relies on his friends to do the talking for him, and will mostly just avoid others he doesn’t know if he’s alone. He’s got a pretty bad temper, and can easily snap around those he strongly dislikes, and will really try to restrain himself from just throwing random stuff at them, though if pushed too far then he can’t guarantee much restraint from doing that or just out right attacking them.
hmmmmmmmm i don’t like big blocks of text but i’m just gonna go out on a limb here and say i hate this
Extra:
- He has a purple bloods lifespan. why also how do you know this
- He’s an artist and spends most of his time drawing.
- He’s often been called ‘toxic waste’ cause of the colour of his blood, and the fact he’s a mutant. sounds about right
- He’s smarter then he looks, he just learns better from doing then writing.
- He really loves bacon. Get between him and his bacon, and he will most likely bite you. uh
- He’s got ADHD, and has a real hard time sitting still, that he will actually rock back and forth or fiddle with his fingers if he sits still for too long.
- He doesn’t take pain very well.
- He’s a fast learner.
- He likes to play the piano, but he only knows one part from one song, any other time he’s just pressing random keys that sound nice together. me
- Others think him to have some kind of learning disorder, but he just learns differently and at his own pace.
- He loves to play video games and read books.
- He strongly dislikes loud noises and shouting.
- Sometimes wishes he had wings of his own so he could fly.
- He loves getting hugs just as much as he loves giving them.
- He’s got his eerie creepy moments. uhh
- His sanity has been questioned many times. uhhh
- Tail is normally hidden good, though he does have his moments when he doesn’t bother to hide it.
Quadrants:
Matesprit♥: Kirios Flerix (Joel-Kingdom)
Moirail♦: Hisana Kalain (D-Mau5)
Kismesis♠: – Open
Rules Broken: honestly a well-crafted troll in terms of personality, except for the glaring neon blood and the whole “ooh questionable sanity” part, also the tail, why y’all gotta put tails on ya trolls
Fantroll Rating: my eyes hurt the fuck
#submission#awfully horribly bad troll#cull it now#dark past#insane#kind and caring#mutant#too much color#non canon blood color
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blush, cute, kitty, love, prince, rainbow, smitten, snuggle, sparkle, sunshine
i fell asleep before i could answer these bc i’m a sleepy baby. whoops. but asks aren’t milk they don’t go bad if you leave em out overnight so here we go
blush; what was your stuffed animal as a child?
I had many. In fact I still buy a lot of stuffed animals. But the most important was a stuffed turtle I got when I was 9. It’s kind of a sob story but I was in and out of the hospital constantly from late 2008-early 2009, and my first visit while I was lying weak from a procedure in the emergency room, my mom went down to the gift shop (it was Children’s Hospital Boston, which if you’ve never been there–and I hope to God you haven’t–it’s huge.) and picked me up a few toys that evening. One was a stuffed turtle I named Shelley (i’d like to say it’s for percy but obviously i was not that cultured when i was in fourth grade). I brought her to every subsequent emergency room trip, including when I got sick again in middle school, and AGAIN a few years ago. I’m not gonna take a picture but she’s lying on my bed w me right now. Yep. Shelley’s the one.
cute; what did you get on your last birthday?
Lol I was in rehab at the time actually. I didn’t talk much while I was there (social anxiety makes it like that) but one girl who overheard that it was my birthday asked me “are you gonna go home and do something special?” and I was like “idk maybe my mom got a cake or something.”
No I haven’t taken my birthday that seriously in years. It’s just kind of another day for me. I think that last time I did anything was back when I was a little prodigy recluse (I was sick again and out of school at the time) when I turned thirteen, I had lunch with my twin sister (whose birthday it obviously also was) and our best friend. When I turned sweet sixteen it was the first day of spring break and I stayed in my house and ate a bag of white chocolate on my bed because I had gotten my heart properly broken for the first time. And this year I received a lot of lovely messages. That was it.
kitty; what’s your favorite time of the day?
It depends on my sleep schedule. I like staying up late and being by myself (as long as it’s not forced staying awake by insomnia) and waking up early and being by myself.
love; what is your favorite season and why?
I know it’s sad but I never gave a damn about the weather. I don’t like any of them. I find winter the best because everything’s dead and no one expects me to go outside for fun.
prince; how would you describe your handwriting?
Just… messy. My fourth grade teacher preferred my cursive handwriting to my print (because my print was messy and my cursive was restrained and pain-stakingly practiced) and she used to just make me, in particular write everything in cursive while everyone else could write in print. So because of that I started drifting towards more cursive-style connecting my letters even when I was writing in print. And now it’s like… I don’t even know if I have the right to say I write in print ever? Almost every letter is connected, but it’s not proper cursive. And I know proper cursive. Sometimes I switch to it for just a word if it’s easier. I haven’t written “of” in print since I was like thirteen. When I was ten I was going through this really intense “I need to make myself girlier so people will like me” phase and in between buying like 20 tubes of lip smacker and shopping at justice, and convincing myself that if I just combed my hair instead of brushing it it would look all straight like my best friend’s and Jane Asher’s, I tried for a few months to write in that stereotypical “girly handwriting” that’s very blocky and straight. Yeah. It naturally shifted back into its course. I wish I could take pictures of my own handwriting for my poetry blog because I think it would look very Personal but the problem is it’s just so illegible what’s the point.
rainbow; what was the last line of the last book you read?
The last book I finished was either rereading Lady Windermere’s Fan for the thousandth time, or the Tempest for the first. I can’t remember because I’m always reading more than one book at a time. Of the Tempest is this lovely monologue (linking it to Marianne Faithfull’s reading from the end of her 1995 album A Secret Life because she’s lovely and actually does a great version of it, but my rant about how the songs from the Tempest are performed now to be “modern” will wait for another day).Of the Fan, it is Lady Windermere exclaiming “Ah! You’re marrying a very good woman.”
smitten; do you collect anything?
Anything of mine that might be called a “collection” is really more a result of happenstance than purpose. My CD collection is mostly old stuff I’m meaning to sell by now, my DVD collection is mostly movies I’d watch w my sister, and comics are really only a thing I collect because that’s… just how you read comics. I have a bunch of old diaries from 2008-2015 and I don’t plan on parting w those, I guess they could count as a collection. Or all my poetry notebooks from over the years. But again, that’s just how ya write.
snuggle; what is your favourite candy?
I like chocolate of almost any kind. Cotton candy is also really good.
sparkle; do you wear jewelry?
Naah I have ADHD. When I was in my earlier teen years I always wanted to be one of those cool pop punk kids who wore like 10 bracelets all the time but 1) money, nah, and 2) I can’t stand to wear anything nonessential, that just, dangles there. I’ll get distracted. I can’t even wear long sleeve shirts wo rolling them up, without being conscious of it, no matter how much I try.
sunshine; do you prefer for things to be practical or aesthetically pleasing?
I wouldn’t say many of my habits are either practical or aesthetically pleasing. I’m a mess and not just one to look at. I guess it depends on what you mean by “practical” because of course I want things to be not-completely-useless but I do have an appreciation of aesthetics. Not that I practice a lot in real life though that’s expensive.
♡ cute asks ♡
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Album Discussion- Viva La Vida- Coldplay
Oh shit, is Rad gunning for the throat of what was once one of the biggest bands in the world again, no actually, I really like this album, why would I talk about albums I hate. I’m not sure I have the comedic acumen to manage that yet, but I guess we’ll find out when I inevitably try.
Viva La Vida is Coldplay’s 4th studio album and one I have a lot of personal nostalgia for. It’s permanently associated with a particular time in my life, where I got the album added to an MP3 player I had and listened to it constantly over and over, and somehow didn’t get sick of it. It’s also the last album from the era in which they were actually good (haven’t listened to Everyday Life yet though), though it’s kinda a major departure from the sound and tone of the previous 3.
It’s also the first one where they really start getting up their own ass. Like, that font? And the French Revolution imagery? I guess there’s something to be said for such but relatively clean band having artwork featuring someone’s entire tiddy out on their album, but I suppose it’s considered a tasteful nude given the context of the original painting. Anyway.
The album opens with Life in Technicolor, spelled without the u despite them being British because fuck me, I guess. This instrumental really quickly establishes that this is going to be a different one- Coldplay’s previous work is extremely solid if vaguely generic alt-rock instrumentation, and here comes this song with a…. (looks it up)…santoor? Which sounds completely different to anything else they’ve put out. It’s also, again, an instrumental, which is pretty unique for the band considering how heavy a focus Chris Martin’s vocals tend to get. What we end up with is this short and sweet little introductory piece that I don’t have much else to say about other than I really like it. What I can briefly comment on is Life in Technicolor II, the version released as a single and on the EP immediately following this album. It’s like, twice as long, as full on vocals, and as a result overstays its welcome by quite a bit. It’s not like the vocals are bad, but they really do feel tacked on.
Cemeteries of London is next up, a ghost story of a track with heavy Christian themes and folk influences. There’s this echoey guitar in the backdrop of this that gives it an eerie edge, even with the relatively chill acoustic lead. I think putting so much clapping in such a minor-key track is a bold play, and it seems to have paid off for them. This song feels almost bleak, even desperate at times, like the vocals’ peak describing an encounter with God that doesn’t quite work out. There’s an unspoken tragedy here. It’s another of the album’s better tracks.
Lost! (exclamation point is part of the title) is a bit more uptempo, but not really any more upbeat. I don’t know what instrument is making that beat, but it sounds neato, and they just have a church organ running through this whole thing, because why not, sounds aight. It’s kinda U2-ey, which isn’t really a compliment coming from me. I would be very interested in another artist’s take on this track- and I don’t mean Lost+, that’s awful and doesn’t fucking count.
42 is the next track, and I don’t think that’s a Hitchhiker’s Guide reference. It’s again, extremely moody, or at least, the first part is. The composition of this is actually really interesting, it’s basically three separate songs mashed into one. The first part is the moody piano bit, the middle a banging instrumental bit, and the last bit this really fun collision of both types of instrumentation. Ultimately, 42 is an experiment that was probably for the best, since I’m entirely confident any part of this being the full song would get old real quick. But the split means none of them overstay their welcome.
Speaking of overstaying welcomes, Lovers in Japan is almost 7 minutes, and as a result was the track I always skipped as a kid. This is because the album version contains a second song in it, “Reign of Love”, which isn’t its own track for reasons that are completely alien to me. Much like Lost!, Lovers in Japan feels extremely U2, soaring guitars and choruses, but I just did not vibe with that as a kid and it’s hard to come back to now as a result. Reign of Love, on the other hand, basically just feels like 3 entire minutes of piano-based outro, and is really not worth sitting through Lovers in Japan to experience.
Yes is the title of the next song and it opens with violins in a rock song fuck yes! It’s also one with two songs in it, this time with “Chinese Sleep Chant” (uhhhhh) attached at the end for a total track length of 7:06. This doesn’t bother me as much as weith Lovers in Japan/Reign of Love, because I actually like both halves of this one. Yes feels like VLV-era Coldplay’s take on something grungier, with Chris Martin going lower than I think he does on any other song in their discography. This simple vocal switch makes the song seriously stand out from their other works, a more traditional rock instrumental standing out from the rest of the album in its relative simplicity. There’s still a lot going on, but it feels tighter and more restrained. I do think Yes might be my favourite track on the album. Chinese Sleep Chant is…an ethereal wall of sound, with heavily affected vocals to the point where they feel more like part of the instrumental than anything. It’s otherworldly, and hardly the best example of a song like this, but it’s more than satisfactory.
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The next song is the title track, Viva la Vida, and I’m not really sure what there is to say about this that hasn’t already been said. It’s just such an incredible piece of music, orchestral and sweeping, emotional and moving. Aside from being tied to some awkward memories (I used it to audition for a musical in middle school, something I haven’t managed to forget try as I might), I don’t really have any complaints about it. Actually, that’s a lie, I have one. It’s fucking criminal that it’s largely associated with the CaptainSparklez Fallen Kingdom Minecraft song, which I never liked (compared to Revenge/TNT at least), to the point where every time VLV comes up in a SiIvagunner rip people are referencing that instead of the original. It’s just kinda shite, basically.
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Violet Hill, then. This rocks hard enough that it was in Guitar Hero III, standing proud alongside Through The Fire and Flames and The Number of the Beast in rock history. It’s pretty low-key for that lineup, of course, but it’s the heaviest thing on this album sonically, and probably lyrically, too- took me until googling it to find out it was an anti-war song, though some of the lyrics are more understandable (and decipherable) than others. The close of the song is soft and kinda heartbreaking, but the rest of it just goes. It used to be my favourite on the album. Not so much, I like Yes more now, sorry.
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The penultimate track is Strawberry Swing, another one I didn’t connect to as a kid. It’s got a bouncy, “tribal” beat, some really panned out double bass (?) for the bassline, and sounds almost sugary sweet. This song is so unbelievably relaxing, which is a really odd thing for a Coldplay song to be, but it works pretty well. I’m genuinely finding it hard to write listening to that, I just kinda keep getting lost in it. I swear it’s not just my ADHD, this song just chills you out. That’s probably a good sign, right?
The final song is Death and All His Friends, is another bloody double song- except I’m not sure it was on the version I had as a kid? I might be remembering wrong, but I’m pretty sure I’d not heard The Escapist before going back to this as an adult. Regardless, Death and All His Friends spends a long time in this low piano mood, serene and reassuring, it’s about a minute of that. It then spends like, another minute building up into what I’d call the song proper, an instrumental bit that eventually breaks out into this just desperate cry against what I can only assume is life, or death, one or the other. The lyrics are relatively brief before the song folds in on itself and ends, taking what I thought was the album with it. I do particularly like the line “I don’t want a cycle of recycled revenge”, that’s just fun to hear. And then we get to The Escapist and-wait this is just the start of Life in Technicolor again. But Chris has some vocals on some of it. I guess it bookends the album, but this is kinda pointless. And if you’re listening to the Album+EP version, it runs right into Life in Technicolor II, which gets a little repetitive.
In essence, Viva la Vida is an artier, more variable take on Coldplay, with a somewhat up its own ass aesthetic that at least backs it up with interesting music much of which is absolutely worth the time. It is also the last gasp of Good Coldplay, with every release afterwards (again, I haven’t heard the latest album, it’s apparently decent) being not especially great- while most agree that the poppier direction of Mylo Xyloto alienated most of their fanbase, and it sure did me, I actually don’t like Prospekt’s March either. But that’s a story for another time.
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