#schizoid house | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

endworldbroadcast · 8 days

Text

- The difficult thing about managing my suicidal ideation is I quite distinctly do not want to live, and I cannot recall a point in my life when I ever actually wanted to live. There are times I do not want to die on the basis that it physically hurts, and the pathetic animal body will recoil at something so 'simple'.

- Although when my mood is relatively stable, I do not particularly want to die. But I still do not want to live. I remain alive out of inertia, that I might as well do it as long as nothing compels me to suicide.

- This means that continuing to live is not about cultivating reasons for me to want to do so, which feels hopelessly tiresome, but simply avoiding the list of things that will make me go, 'Fuck it, time to grab the noose.'

- And this list isn't particularly long, but it is particularly particular, and the specificity of the things that bother make it so they are tiresome to articulate, and thus I get no sympathy for it [ 'It's because you never ask for help', as if this is a matter of spiteful pigheadedness and not exhaustion ], and people do not accommodate it [ And even then, to 'need accommodation' is something that even 'kind' people use against me—much to be said about how interaction always has norms and context meddling in the middle, then ].

- It is not as if I have some intentionality in not liking or caring about anything enough that nothing inspires a desire to stay alive in me. It is not out of a lack of trying. I have tried all the manners of things people find value in—relationships, fiction, art, charity, activism, study, travel, what-have-you—and they all seem... boring. Or not exactly boring. Distant. Like I'm trying to understand a film I can only watch on my neighbour's telly from the view of my fogged-up window.

- I don't strictly 'believe' in 'pathology' in this particular sense, but I have gotten used to communicating it as pathological [ and by extension, innate ] if only on the basis that it conveys if only half-heartedly that I do not 'try' to be this way.

- As my fortune would have it, the feeling and experience of people insisting in me my miseries are for reasons they are not [ You are not doing The Work you are not asking for help you are not changing your mindset you are not trusting your friends you are not ysing your heart you are not using your head you are not doing The Work you are not doing The Work you are not doing The Work ] is one of those particular particulars.

- I can stand being criticised, demeaned and looked down upon very, very well. I am far less resilient to people assuming my intention and feelings. I am doing The Work, so so much Work, in trying to remind myself I cannot control the internalities of others and that it is an issue of abstraction that no material action can resolve to want to make others comprehend my qualitative internalities—go on hate me, just do it correctly—but at the end of the day when The Work has tuckered me out I just have this whingey, desperate feeling, like an animal caught in a bear trap, that I want some peace and quiet.

- That my body and material reality are already out of my control, I am already bound to their whims. I feel I have become fiercely protective of 'what is inside of me' even when this defence is futile and pointless solely on the basis that it feels like the only thing I have. Reality outside may be real but only abstraction succeeds in feeling meaningful.

- This is a qualitative experience that has remained fairly consistent, even though The Things intensified it. When I regard most other emotions and experiences, there is a blankness, a sense of incompletion or emptiness or malformity. But this in particular flails around like a baby. I don't know what it is, but it's the same feeling that just asks to leave me alone, leave me alone, in a very pathetic voice, with no idea who or what it is that won't leave and what that's expected to achieve.

- I wish I had saved it, but of the litany of schizoid case studies I have read, there is one that sticks out to me the most, one on the fantasy of omniscience. This particular case was of a shut-in who had only one childhood friend, but of which he had not talked to or even seen his friend in years. But there was no formal 'ending' to their friendship, so he remained latched on it.

- The particular articulation stuck out to me, paraphrased: it seemed the schizoid was able to tolerate much of loneliness if even only on the basis of hope for connection, that if there was at least one thing that was giving them this, even if the thing was actually distant and meaningless, then the individual would keep trying regardless. It was only necessary to maintain the idea that you were maybe not alone, and whether this was reflected in reality became secondary to the curiousity of waiting for something to happen.

- By my own metric I would not consider this wanting to live, even if it may superficially be described as such. Because when you're in the position it does not feel like wanting to live, it feels like wanting to want. So much of this 'type' of existence is the awareness that even the most basal of human instincts seems malformed inside of you, reduced to mechanistic cognition.

- I know this feeling is not unique. Specialness is the most common thing in the whole wide world. We've got r slash schizoid for this type of thing. But among the people I 'recognise', I feel utterly alone. Sometimes I feel like I will want, actually want to live, even if only a little, if l had a genuine and meaningful relationship with just one person who felt the exact same way.

#d #I want you in the house just not in my room etc etc #me when I want the impossible #meeee when I live alone and die alone #misosophyposting #schizoid tag #schizoposting #at this point those may as well be my CW tags

6 notes · View notes

surfs-up-brian · 3 months

Text

Sketchbook lowlights feat. A ramble I had that I turned into something about House

#i dont know how to draw house lol #the overall theme being. hmm i fink theres somfin not roight in me noggin #I've been calling it suspected schizoid tendencies but it might just be autismo or something. im not a dr #kinda sucks but honestly its just who i am and i gotta accept that #toby #house md #drawing

5 notes · View notes

newgolddream81-82-83-84 · 6 months

Text

I experience almost all of this I think I;m doomed

#So yes I have many conflicting feelings #I feel very schizoid most of the time #But lately since Ive been out of the house and stressed #Im experiencing more paranoia and anxiety around other people #I could very well just be a psychotic schizoid #But other times I seem like an asocial schizotypal #vent #Kind of.

3 notes · View notes

novemb-r · 2 years

Text

Being schizoid is so boring I literally do nothing all day

#The chronic boredom is so real #But I also don't want to do much that requires me to leave my house #Schizoid #schizoid personality disorder #Cluster a

1 note · View note

usergif · 5 months

Text

NEW YEAR, NEW FONTS #USERGIFNYNF TYPOGRAPHY CHALLENGE ・ JAN 8-12

Let's kick off 2024 with a new challenge... all about typography! If typography has ever made you feel stuck, we hope this challenge helps you break out of your comfort zone, discover new fonts, and try new styles! This event is open to gifmakers from all fandoms and will run from January 8-12, featuring 5 prompts:

DAY 1 (1/8): LAYER STYLES ↳ Use any combination of blending options (screen, hard light, difference, etc.) and/or layer effects (bevel, shadow, glow, gradient overlay, etc.). DAY 2 (1/9): ONLY ONE ↳ Refine your choices and use ONLY ONE font throughout your entire set. DAY 3 (1/10): PERFECT PAIRS ↳ Use a different font pairing per gif. Check out our font pairing recs! DAY 4 (1/11): THREE TYPEFACES ↳ Use 1 Serif + 1 Sans Serif + 1 Script typeface in your set. DAY 5 (1/12): FAVORITE FONT(S) ↳ Show off your favorite font(s) any way you want!

Rules for how to participate below the cut:

Reblog this post and follow @usergif

Create a gifset using the prompts provided above

Tag #usergifNYNF so we can reblog your creations!

Caption your post with: @usergif new year, new fonts: day # - prompt description [fonts used: font name (source)]*

*Optional: We encourage including font names and their sources in your caption so others can find them [e.g. Blastimo Sans (dafont.com)]. After all, this challenge is about discovering new fonts and typography styles! You can also put this in a "read more" after your main caption or put a link in part of your caption that redirects to an internal Tumblr link (e.g. a page on your blog that lists fonts used). We don't recommend linking to external sites as doing this too many times in one post can affect the visibility of your post.

Questions about the event? Send us an ask here. We’ll tag all event answers with #usergifNYNF.ask. Need inspo? Check our RESOURCE DIRECTORY for typography tutorials or look through some of our members' font recs!

We also want to take this moment to thank you all for helping us reach over 10k followers! We hope this blog can continue to be a source of help and inspiration for gif effects, and we can’t wait to see what you create for this challenge! 🪄

Fonts used: Gif 1, in order of appearance: Traveling Typewriter*, Bassy*, Buy More*, Germanica [Plain Germanica]*, Doky*, Magic Retro*, GIN Grotesk [Gin Rounded] (befonts.com), Random House*, Lostar*, Amberla*, Schizoid Personality* (* = dafont.com) Gif 2: Karla (Google Fonts), Buffalo Script (dafontfree.io)

382 notes · View notes

schizoid-culture-is · 1 month

Note

Questioning schizoid culture is standing in the house of someone you know with 100% certainty that you loved and cared about who died and feeling nothing. It's forcing yourself to remember the times you spent together because they won't come naturally and feeling nothing - no nostalgia, no love, no pain. It's hating yourself for not feeling grief, for not feeling a pinch of sadness, for standing hollow and pathetic in their lifeless home, and hoping that self-hate is its own sense of grief, that it means you really do miss them, because if it doesn't then did you really love them at all?

#tw death #cw death #personality disorder #schizoid #schizoid pd #schizoid personality disorder #scpd #szpd #cluster a #cluster a pd #schizoid culture is

56 notes · View notes

tothepointofinsanity · 23 days

Note

How can Tumblr user tothepointofinsanity be 'schizoid' when schizoidism was created by me in 2014. Consider the facts

Back in 2014, when I had just been a young boy, I attended the EC [Evil Convention] that housed your schizoidism PowerPoint slides. Once exposed to the forbidden scrolls, I was changed forever and subsequently became the person you see today. Consider my tragic backstory.

#ASKS 💌#you must answer for the crimes of academia

20 notes · View notes

acerathia · 6 months

Text

somebody's watching me || Chapter 2: Collapse

Summary:

Meeting him was your fate, your salvation, and you shall do everything to keep things this way.

Wordcount: 3.5k

Read on AO3 || Masterlist

Pairing:

Getou Suguru / Reader

Tags/CW:

no-curse au, Getou is still a cult-leader, cults, Getou's fake personality, dark content, Major Character Death, Paranoia, schizoid form of anxiety disorder, isolation, overthinking (in connection to the anxiety), some form of descent into madness, violence, stream of consciousness to show the mental state of reader, everything has meaning (dreams, colors, symbols etc.), warped look on reality, dissociation, blind trust, indoctrination, manipulation, mind-altering practices, polarisation of people/society, peer pressure, denial of reality, emotional abuse, body horror, drugs (implied), hallucinations,

Note:

Please be cautious reading this work, as it contains heavy themes, which might affect some people. Minors do not interact!!

Your eyes opened abruptly. You were in your own room. In your bed. But everything lay shrouded in darkness. It was as if you were still in this prison. But you could move your hands again, freely. But relief was only a temporary guest. The pain in your throat and the roaring in your ears steered you back into your dreams, even though the sensory phenomena only seemed to be dull shadows. Your fingers searched at your throat for the cause of the pain. But there was only soft skin. Nothing else. Perhaps a bruise? The reason for this mark would be unknown to you; after all, you had done nothing all week except march to the middle of nowhere. But that didn't explain the pain on the skin of your throat .

For a moment you stared at the blue ceiling above you. The memory of the dream seemed to slowly fade, but the fear remained. Almost as if the feelings left behind were seated deeply in your spine. Adrenaline raced through your veins, amplified by the violent pounding of your heart against your ribs. All of this clenched into a single thought. Something bad was going to happen, but you had no idea what it might be. Finally, you tried to ignore the squeezing in your body. You blamed the panic on sleep paralysis, even if it was usually something you remembered. Worrying about it any more would only make the rest of your day more difficult. Still, you needed to calm down again, to get yourself back on the right level. So, you got out of bed and made your way into the kitchen. Nothing would help you more than a glass of cold water. Every movement made one of your joints crack softly. These ached in a strange way, one you had never felt before. The feeling was almost as if your limbs had been taken apart and then, like the pieces of a puzzle, put back into place. Those pieces were probably only now moving into their proper places. A reason could be a weird sleeping position or a misplaced pillow. There were many possible reasons for the pain in your bones and all of them made sense. So you decided to ignore the whole thing.

So, with quiet steps, you made your way to the kitchen. The whole house was enveloped in an eerie silence. In the middle of the dark hallway, you stopped. It suddenly felt like someone was standing behind you. You wonder if it was someone from your family. But you hadn't heard any doors or footsteps. Still, you felt someone's breath on the back of your neck. The small breath caused goose bumps on your back and you shivered. You then felt fingernails scratching across your palms. This feeling was too close for you, so you turned around. Hopefully, this way you could look the culprit directly in the eyes. But there was no one in front of you. You were alone in the hallway and no matter how many times you turned around, you couldn't see anyone else. Maybe it was just some of the paranoia left from your nightmare, but that thought didn't even occur to you. Instead, you hurried toward the kitchen. There you opened the refrigerator, whose blue light calmed you down a bit. You didn't notice how much your hands were shaking until you took out a bottle. So, you just gripped the plastic even tighter and started taking big gulps from it. The coolness ran pleasantly, almost burning, down your throat. The cold caused the sluggishness of sleep to fall away. With a swing, you closed the door of the refrigerator. You almost felt reassured again, but at the same moment you glanced toward the window. As you stared at the glass, it seemed to you that someone was standing on the other side. Faintly, with narrowed eyes, you could make out a broad grin. Your breath caught and you turned abruptly on your heels to get back to your room as quickly as possible. But there, too, shadows seemed to lurk in the corners, grabbing at your ankles. So you grabbed a blanket and wrapped yourself tightly with it, as if it were a shield. Wrapped, you sat down in the brightest corner. Your eyes darted back and forth between the walls. It was almost as if they suddenly became darker when you weren't looking. But when you turned to the side, everything seemed normal again. You felt like you were in a cursed game of hide and seek. One where you only could end up as the loser.

You had no idea how long you had stayed in that position, but after some time you heard the birds outside your window. This made you realize that you had been wrapped up like this all night. Without even putting your head onto the pillow. That was one of the reasons why you almost burst into tears at the touch of the first rays of the sun. You were so infinitely tired. You wanted nothing more than to just go back to sleep. At the moment, you almost preferred the nightmares to staying awake. You felt absolutely miserable. As if you had reached a new low. So much you would like to lie back down and catch up on your lost sleep. But to your sorrow, you had to act like a functioning person. That meant going to school. You really couldn't afford to be absent in any way or form.

Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes. This was not the time to burst into tears. You needed to distract yourself. So you gathered yourself up while blinking away the liquid collecting in the corners of your eyes. With quiet steps, you crept into the bathroom. In those movements, you felt a lurking sensation on your shoulders. Had this one been there all night? You had no answer, so you stretched your neck to loosen the muscles a bit.

Carefully, you placed your feet in front of the sink and then stopped. The mirror was in front of you. If you would only look up, you could see right into your own face. You didn't know why you hesitated. With a jerk, you looked up and stared at yourself. Your image stared back at you from bloodshot eyes. But with the next blink, signs appeared and covered parts of your face, blinding you with their appearance. Their garish colors and rushing movements were too much for you. You felt them moving on your skin. Quickly you looked at your hands. They seemed normal. Your fingers groped along your face, but nothing seemed to be amiss.. Taking a breath, you looked in the mirror again. This time everything was normal, even after several blinks. Was this a hallucination? You took another breath and licked your chapped lips. Your reflection appeared normal. It followed your movements and showed your tired face with startling clarity. You decided to ignore this incident as well. Who would believe you? You had no one to talk to anyway. All the people around you thought you were nothing but a sick person anyway, a lunatic, even though you were fine outside of these occurrences. It wouldn't help you if you confirmed this image by talking. So, you freshened up your face a bit, so that you wouldn't look as if you had walked through the forest at night. In doing so, you avoided the mirror. Safe was safe. And you didn't want to see any of those pictures, not until you had to go outside. With her things packed and looking, you hoped, fresh, you headed out into society. After all, your degree was much more important than what was going on inside you at the moment.

You had to honestly admit that you had no idea what kind of day it was. Normally, reality was blurry and interwoven, as if you were holding intertwined threads in your hand. But on this day, you were all too aware of everything around you. The weight on your shoulders crushed you. Everything was far too loud, far too bright, far too heavy. Even your periphery was filled with loud colors and signs, as if a folk festival was taking place around the corner. The images danced in sensual, promising patterns outside your direct vision, as if they were trying to lure you somewhere. But they did not exist, no matter how hard you tried to bring the patterns into view. Your thoughts were in a conflict; either you surrendered to the unknown, or you were afraid, or you wondered what was wrong with you. These three, opposing possibilities paralyzed you. You had no other choice but to simply carry on with your day as usual. As if the only problem was the road ahead of you.

Your shoulders hung down like wet weights. It almost seemed as if they were getting heavier and heavier as the day progressed. Maybe it was exhaustion, but there was nothing you could do. That's why you reached your end, at the same time as the school day was winding down. The heaviness had also shifted to your head and neck. You felt as if someone was sitting on your shoulders and making yourself comfortable there. To your sorrow, you couldn't just go home. You had a meeting with the therapy group that day. You hated it there. These people had the ability to put you in grippy socks with a wave of their hands. So, you had to make a stable impression in front of them. Still, you wondered if you should tell them about the nightmare. After all, they had to talk about anything and if you were honest, you would rather talk about that than about your real feelings.

Lost in thoughts and with your head down, you walked into someone. This encounter brought you back to reality. And you just wanted to apologize and continue on your way.

"Oh darling, you look worn down. Would you like a sip of tea?"

The unknown man addressed you in a deep, smooth voice. His words promised trust. Yet you were conscious enough to refuse his proposal. A simple shake of your head should have been enough of an answer. But despite the rejection, his eyes were filled with some kind of understanding. But understanding of what exactly? Even if you didn’t have an answer, you had the feeling he only wanted the best for you, even if you didn’t know each other, though he looked familiar, a tingle tickling the back of your mind at his sight. He simply pressed a brochure into your hands, turning away with fluttering sleeves and warm goodbyes.

"If you need someone to talk to, our doors are open."

Those words floated in front of you, the woman's last words. You had no idea what to do with them, and even less with the paper in your hand. For a while you just stared at them, not really wanting to understand what was written on them. So you just stuffed them recklessly into your pocket. You would forget it there sooner or later. Nevertheless, you had read part of the inscription. The words promised open ears and gentle care. But you didn't need more therapy. With a shake of your head, you walked on.

You had walked down the same streets a seemingly infinite number of times. The walk to the therapy group had also become a part of the day you had grown to hate. The empty streets. The footsteps behind your back. The whispering in your ears. This environment was full of factors that only intensified your inner turmoil. You constantly felt like you were being followed or watched and there was no escape. Every time you walked past the alleys, you had to pull yourself together to keep from going back. Everyone told you that it was just paranoia, but you were convinced that your fears were absolutely justified. Still, you tried not to let the tension show, but your jaw remained tense, grinding your teeth as you entered the old, dark building. If you hadn't been there often enough, you would have thought for sure that the place was actually deserted.

With silent steps on the creaking floor, you followed the tracks on the worn carpet. The moment you entered the open living room, you laboriously brought a fleeting greeting to your lips before settling into your assigned chair. The seats next to you were still empty, but the familiar strangers soon gathered in their places. While waiting, you played with your fingers to distract yourself from the piercing stares. Then, when a new, completely unknown person sat down next to you, you couldn't stop your body from twitching. You did not know this person. What if you did something to you? Nervously, your eyes darted to the exit. You wanted to get away.

But before you could come up with a proper escape plan, the leader began the meeting. As usual, everyone began to take their turns to talk about something that was bothering them. No matter how much you tried to pay attention, you just couldn't concentrate. You really tried. But the knowledge that it was soon your turn put you in an uneasy mood. The pressure in your chest returned. All the while, only the prepared words rang in your ears, the words you wanted to tell these people so you wouldn't trip over your own tongue. They drowned out all other sounds around you. That's why, for a moment, you didn't hear the leader call your name. When you recognized the words, you had to swallow a few times. Your throat felt dry and raw. You forced yourself to take one deep breath. With the air in your mouth, you began to talk about the nightmare. How it had felt, how much it had affected you, and how it had shaken you. You didn't realize, until you were done, how much you had really told. Way too much. Even though you had tried to hide your feelings, they had still leaked out. You had no idea how exactly you had actually told the whole thing, but you felt the gazes of everyone present rest on you. The silence just felt stifling. No one wanted to say anything. But then the leader took up the floor to calm the situation.

"This is normal…you're stressed and everyone gets these…nightmares."

You realized what the situation was. Those words were meant to calm you down. Were supposed to help you feel normal. But you recognized the tone he was taking toward you. He wasn't taking you seriously. No matter what your response would be. Older people never did. All of your feelings were normal, everyone had them once, they had them too. But that didn't help you. It bothered you. So much. It was the same reaction over and over again.

You were just a kid. You were a drama queen. You were looking for attention. You were just confused. You were making jokes. You were lying. You were lying. You were lying.

It was the same thing over and over again. These words were filled with one statement. Of course you could recognize it. No one really tried to hide it. It lay open and put salt in your wounds.

'You're just a liar, stop wasting my time.'

But surely that wasn't your fault! They had asked you about it, after all. Why ask something if you don't want to hear the truth? Was that even the truth? Were you lying to yourself by now, too? You had no idea who to believe. But you didn't want to stay here any longer. These people didn't believe you anyway. Why should they? They had no reason to. You were worth nothing to them anyway. Which one of them would help you? They didn't even want to help you! After all, you were a liar, you were the evil in their midst. For this reason, you deserved nothing from anyone. Nothing!

Suddenly you found it so much harder to breathe. Your lungs felt like they were slowly being filled with water. Your fingers clawed at the skin under your throat. Desperately trying to help you breathe. Everything seemed to be rushing at you. Your surroundings became suddenly too unbearable. The sharp glance of everyone bored themselves like thumbtacks into your skin. You felt every single one of them. Their grins resounded loudly in your ears. The echo of it grew into a screech. Everything overwhelmed you enormously. It felt like you were about to throw up. Your thoughts spun around, seeming to change your field of vision in a dizzying way.

You wanted to scream, but your body no longer seemed to belong to you. You couldn't even lash out, even though you wanted to break something. You wanted to get away. Away from this place. As fast as possible.

With a jerk, you managed to stand up. Without noticing the other people and their comments of indignation, you left the room with stiff steps. The only sound in your ears was the grinding of your teeth. The pressure in your mouth grounded you far enough to continue using your body. But as you opened the door to step out, you heard footsteps rumbling behind you. That sound triggered some reflex in you and you began to speed up. You had no idea what to do, but you knew that under no circumstances should the others get their hands on you. If that happened, the future would not look very bright.

Your initial plan was to run towards where you lived, but after a few minutes it occurred to you that the pursuers probably already had people lined up there. Or it would be the place where they would search first. Therefore, you directed your steps towards an open square. That place was relatively well frequented right now. Thus, you would be able to easily disappear in the crowd of people. So, you slowed down the pace when you arrived at the edge of the square and walked leisurely into the masses. At least that's what you tried to do. Your breathing was still quite fast. The rattling sound of your lungs rang loudly in your skull as your gaze darted nervously around. It seemed you had lost the pursuers for the moment, but that also meant you had lost sight of them.

For a while you ran a few laps around the square before your path drew a spiral. You were pretty sure the people around you would have noticed you. At some point, you walked around in loops without any destination. Then, when you reached the center of the square, you stopped for a moment. But at that moment you noticed your pursuers a few meters away from the spot you were standing. After a second glance, suddenly there was no one in that place. With apologies on your lips, you pushed your way through the crowd. Suddenly you stopped in front of the man you’ve encountered earlier. You nervously ran your tongue over your chapped lips as you stared at him. What were you supposed to tell him? That you needed help? That you were being followed? Why should he help you at all? It was true, he had offered his help, but how were you to know if it had been serious?

Before you could put your feelings into proper words, the man met you with a gentle smile, one which made anyone want to snuggle right up to it. The man seemed to recognize you. It probably wasn't even that hard given your current condition. Briefly you cleared your throat with an apology and your hands ran over your skin, over your hair. Then, in a cautious voice, you asked if the offer from earlier still stood. As if he had been wished a happy birthday, his face lit up. You ignored how that look sent a shiver down your spine and at the same time the weight lifted from your shoulders. With an elegant movement, the stranger offered you his hand and you had no choice but to take it. His skin was hot on your own, seeming to set your bones ablaze. Then, with feather-light steps, the man led you away from the square… In fact, they encountered no one known on the way. Yet the danger still felt real. As if it were lurking right behind you. That's why you couldn't stop looking back. At the same time, you didn't know if the man was dampening your alarm bells or amplifying them many times over. All the sounds in your head were confused and too irregular to trust. Your head began to hurt, but you ignored the throbbing. However, you still had enough mind and sense to ask where you were going. You just got another smile and a sentence, one you were too tired to question.

"I'll lead you to your new home, my dear."

#geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #getou x reader #getou suguru x reader #suguru x reader #suguru x you #geto x you #geto suguru x you #getou suguru x you #getou x you #jjk x reader

28 notes · View notes

astrologyaware777 · 1 year

Text

Astrology && Music & some darker astrology observations

Featuring Billie Eilish

Billie Eilish

✨️Venus dominant 🌹

followed by Pluto & Sun

✨️Moon is 2nd least dominant

✨️Lord of the 2nd in the 12th

✨️Venus sextile Uranus

(Sexy with an odd tinge)

✨️Mercury sextile Mars

(Passionate and intense voice)

✨️Venus ☌ Pluto

(Beautiful powerful voice, deeper)

✨️Moon ☌ Neptune

(Dreamy connection to emotion felt)

✨️Mercury ☍ Jupiter

(Loud voice, can carry notes)

✨️Mercury semi sextile Neptune ( surreal voice)

✨️Pete Bennett also has tourettes

With a Pisces rising and Moon (Aquarius )in the 12th

❌️Billies tourettes indicators❌️

(Mercury -nervous system, 3rd house, Moon -mind, Mars -muscles, Saturn -restriction, 3rd, 9th house -nerves , Pluto -complusions , Uranus -brains nervous system, )

✨️Mercury sextile Mars

✨️Moon sextile Pluto

✨️Saturn ☍ Pluto

✨️Uranus sextile Pluto

✨️Pluto ⛶ ASC

✨️Mars square Saturn

✨️Saturn ⛶ ASC, Saturn in 3rd

✨️Mars, Uranus & Moon in 12th

✨️Pluto in the 9th

✨️Mercury in 10th house Saturn restrictions

✨️ Mercury opposite Chiron

✨️Mercury ☍ Jupiter

✨️Mars square Pluto

✨️Uranus ☍ Moon

✨️Sun ☍ Mercury

❌️○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○ ❌️

✨️Sagittarius dominant

Followed by Pisces and Aquarius

✨️12 house prominent

✨️Lilith in the 1st

( Body image issues, very intense sexual energy, rebellious nonconforming, independent, willingness to embrace a darker creative side without shame or guilt, need for justice, needs creative outlets of intense emotions)

✨️Lilith in Pisces

(Sexual illusions, romantic,escapist)

✨️Mars in the 12th

(NOT afraid to face fears and take action even if uncertain of outcome)

✨️Moon in the 12th 🌑

(Linked to schizoid behavior,bipolar)

My dad had this placement and literally lived in a cabin alone in the woods lmfao

✨️Sun in the 10th (Strong teeth)

✨️Mars square Pluto, Mars square Saturn, Neptune ☍ moon,

(Sexual abuse indicators, I'm mentioning becuz all the Nessus aspects)

✨️Nessus square Mercury

(Verbally abused as a child, can be verbally abusive towards others)

✨️Nessus square Jupiter

(Jupiter is expanding this abuse here with Mercury and Moon, Saturn, Neptune)(Also abuse by authority figures, teaching figures)

✨️Nessus trine Moon, Saturn & Neptune

( trine moon suffered emotional abuse as child (moon is mother) and choose people who can be abusive, thinking it what they deserve still)

🚨Saturn ☍ pluto

🚨Venus ☌ pluto vulnerable venus

🚨Sun ☌ Chiron abuse from father

🚨Mercury ☌ Chiron abuse from siblings, neighbors

🚨Mars □ Saturn

🚨hopefully no abuse here but looks like it , I wonder what her chart with dad+ bro are like, perhaps I'll do that later on

✨️Nessus in the 10

Pornography for profit, reputation

Sex tied to career and social status. In the extreme, a possibility of forms of abuse used to attain success and sexual gain. (Ex: Sex workers, sex used to advance one’s position, taking advantage of others in work place)

✨️

✨️❌️💋💋❌️

I don't care if people "copy" lol

We are all learning & this information belongs to everyone, you're not special, yes your efforts appreciated but don't get confused, we are here to love and learn

✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️

119 notes · View notes

siouxiesiouxtryhard · 1 year

Text

Sweetheart - (eddie munson x reader)

Ch. Fourteen - Y/n is Bitchin'

summary: an uninvited guest ruin the calming moods in the house; a plan with arson puts y/n back in the playing field cw: 18+ (minors dni) this is obnoxiously long, unfortunate use of y/n, language, badly written action scenes, billy and steve fight, billy beating on reader, wreckless driving ig, vine references in an 80s fic, arson -i think that's it- author's note: season 2 is done yay! there's gonna be some fluffy filler stuff before we get to the season 3 stuff but it's all good i promise! anyways love you <3

<<Part 13 --- Part 15>>

Y/n didn’t realize until Mike and Hopper left the room that Eleven was staring at her. “Uh… hey?” Y/n said, looking like a deer in the headlights. Eleven stared at her for a second, looking her up and down all over.

“Bitchin,” Eleven said, pointing at her.

Y/n raised her eyebrows, still very much confused.

“Thank you? You’re bitchin too. Nice coat,” she said, gently pulling El’s sleeve. El took her arm and (gently) twisted it around, examining her wrist.

“Hey, El, she’s not from the lab. She’s just got tattoos. That would be pretty cool though, huh?” Dustin said, putting a hand on her shoulder. El nodded, a small smile on her face. She walked past a well-meaning Max and hugged Joyce.

“Do you know El?” Lucas asked.

Y/n shook her head, shrugging, “I’m just fuckin cool, man. Shut up,” she said, pushing his and Dustin’s head. Lucas laughed and Dustin flipped her off, fixing his hat and glaring playfully at her. El and Joyce went down to Will’s room to talk, and Y/n messed with Dustin some more. She wiped some dirt off his cheek and pat his head lovingly.

Steve came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her, picking her up while her arms were caged to her sides, “Steven!” Y/n yelped, thrashing in his hold. Lucas laughed at them, and Dustin pouted now that she had literally been stolen from him. Joyce and El went into the kitchen and shortly after they were all planning again.

Y/n was starting to get whiplash from how many times they went from one plan to another.

“It’s not like it was before. It’s grown. A lot. And that’s considering we can get in there. The place is crawling with those dogs,” Hopper said. Y/n sighed, screwing her mouth to the side.

“Demo-dogs,” Dustin said, “I’m sorry, what?” Hopper sighed, “I said, uh, Demo-dogs,” Dustin repeated. Y/n sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Like, Demogorgon and dogs. You put them together, it sounds pretty badass-”

“How is this important right now?” Hopper interrupted him, “It’s not. I’m sorry,” Dustin mumbled.

“Please stop speaking,” Y/n sighed.

“I can do it,” El said.

Y/n had to admit that for a kid El was extremely brave. She had a lot more bravery in her than Y/n could muster.

“Even if El can, there’s still another problem. If the brain dies, the body dies,” Mike said. Y/n furrowed her eyebrows, “I thought that was the point?” she said, crossing her arms.

“It is, but if we’re really right about this… If El closes the gate and kills the Mind Flayer’s army…” he finished to let them fill in the dots. “Will’s a part of that army,” Lucas said.

“So, closing that gate would kill him,” Y/n sighed. Mike nodded sadly.

Y/n blew out a breath and looked at Ms. Byers. She looked like she wanted to throw up. “I mean, what can we do? Do we just command it to leave? Like…” Y/n asked, shrugging.

“No, this isn’t some ghost. It’s a virus. And Will’s the host,” Dustin said.

Ms. Byers walked back into the room where Will was laying. She shut the window, cutting the cold air that Will liked back outside.

“So, this is a virus… and Will’s the host…” Nancy trailed, “We need to make the host uninhabitable,” Jonathan finished. Joyce pursed her lips,” And if he likes it cold… we need to burn it out of him.”

Y/n sighed, running a hand through her hair. She could deal with Demo-dogs, and she could deal with schizoid kids, but setting a kid on fire? She didn’t know. But it wasn’t her kid, so she wasn’t going to say anything against it.

Y/n, Steve, and the kids were told to stay at the house while everyone else got to go and do actual work. Y/n huffed when she sat down on the couch. “Fuckin boring…” she sighed. She watched with furrowed brows as Steve and Dustin wrapped up the Demo-dog in a quilt and carried it to the kitchen.

Y/n sighed, laying back and following the vines with her eyes in an attempt to occupy her mind. Mike paced the room up and down, looking a fool worrying about a literal superhero.

“Yo! Can you quit?” Y/n yelled, “Please!” Lucas sighed.

Mike huffed and faced them, “You weren’t in there, okay? That lab is swarming with hundreds of those dogs!” he said. Y/n rolled her eyes when Dustin yelled “Demo-dogs!” from the kitchen and sat up.

“You weren’t at the junkyard either! We’ve all seen them, we get it. She’s fine, I’m sure. Hopper will take care of her, and she is literally Carrie on steroids! She’s fine,” she said. Mike went to argue again, but Steve strolled out with Dustin behind him. “Listen. If a coach calls a play in a game, bottom line, you execute it. All right?” Steve said, wiping his hands of Demogorgon slime.

Y/n sighed and flopped down on the couch. This was so overwhelming. Between the rotting Demo-dog in the fridge, and Steve and Mike arguing over sports games, she wanted to kick something. “Where are we going?” Y/n mumbled when everyone walked into the kitchen.

“Here. Right here. This is like a hub. See how all the tunnels feed into here? Maybe if we set this on fire-”

“That’s a no!” Steve cut in.

Y/n hopped off the couch with a grin, “I’m so down for arson! What’s your idea Wheeler?” she asked. Steve yelled her name in protest, which got him a smirk and a shrug in response. The kids came up with a pretty solid plan. Set shit on fire, loop back around to the exit, get home free and be back by bedtime. Sounded decent to Y/n. She was more than willing to help out. Especially if she got to set shit on fire.

“Hey! Hey! Hey! This is not happening! And no buts! I promised I’d keep you shitheads safe, and that’s exactly what I plan on doing. We’re staying here. On the bench. And we’re waiting for the starting team to do their job. Does everybody understand that?” Steve asked, cutting his eyes to Y/n with a pointed look.

“I said does everybody understand that? I need a yes,” Steve said again. Y/n rolled her eyes dramatically, sitting on the couch again. “Sure mom,” she sneered.

Steve stuck his tongue out at her, but the unmistakable sound of a revving engine and skidding tires interrupted their fun. Y/n laid back and looked out the window. Max and Lucas ran over and crawled over top of her. “Hey!” Y/n yelled only to be ignored.

“It’s my brother. He can’t know I’m here. He’ll kill me. He’ll kill us,” Max said, looking at Lucas. Y/n quirked an eyebrow and stood to look out the window above their heads.

“Right. Close the blinds, I’ll take care of it. Steve, c’mon,” Y/n said, shutting the curtains and walking out onto the porch. “Don’t worry about it, Max. It’s fine,” Y/n assured, shutting the door behind her. Y/n leaned on one of the porch posts, Steve staying on the steps.

Billy stepped out of his car, puffing on a cigarette. “Am I dreaming or is that you Harrington?” he asked with a wide grin. “Yeah, it’s me. Don’t cream your pants,” Steve sighed.

Y/n snorted, standing up straight. “What are you doing here, amigo?” Billy asked, “I could ask you the same thing… amigo,” Steve replied, walking up to him. Y/n sighed, walking over, and standing by him.

“Billy what do you want?” she huffed. Billy popped his cigarette into his mouth, slowly sucking on it. Y/n rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. She wished she had some boots on so she could have some kind of advantage over him. All she had was words and threats. No punch Y/n could throw, even a decent one, would put Billy on his ass.

“Just looking for my stepsisters. Now that I found one, I think you can help me find the other one,” Billy said in fake sincerity.

Steve hummed, “Well, I don’t know the other one. And Y/n’s fine as you can see,” he said, “Small. Redhead. Bit of a bitch…” Billy filled, trying to get Steve or Y/n to tell him where Max was.

“Doesn’t ring any bells to me. Sorry,” Steve replied. Billy smirked, taking his cigarette from his lips.

“You know, I don’t know, this whole situation… it’s giving me the heebie-jeebies,” Billy said, still faking his concern and confusion.

“Why is that?” Steve asked stupidly.

Don’t ask questions. You’re never ever supposed to ask him questions. Billy took another drag, “My thirteen- and eighteen-year-old sisters go missing all day. And then I find them here with you in a stranger’s house. And you lie to me about it!” he said.

Y/n’s heart was pounding. He knew. He had to know Max was there. He’s just dragging this out. “Billy, if I just tell you me and Steve snuck out here to hook up will you go away? We’re the only ones here.” She huffed. Billy pointed his cigarette at the window where all four middle school idiots were sitting in the window.

“Shit. Listen-” Steve didn’t get to finish because Billy shoved him to the ground. “I told you to plant your feet,” he said simply before he kicked Steve in the stomach and grabbed Y/n by the hair to drag her into the house. “Aw fuck!” Y/n yelled, gripping his wrist for dear life so he didn’t rip a bald spot on her head.

Y/n grunted, hitting her head on the doorframe as Billy slammed the door open. “Ow! Dick!” she yelled. “Y/n!” Max cried, seeing her sister practically hanging by her hair in Billy’s grip.

“Well, well, well,” Billy started, throwing Y/n to the floor, “Lucas Sinclair. What a surprise. I thought I told you to stay away from him, Max,” he said, getting in the kids’ faces. Y/n rubbed her eyes and held a hand to her aching head. Being yanked around by the hair and hitting her head (hard) on the doorframe and the floor did a number on her. Her vision was blurry, and she was uncertain if that was from Billy, or if she just lost a contact. The kids shouting sent a ringing through her ears and she winced, rubbing her eyes, and trying to gain some sight back.

“Where’s Max?” Y/n mumbled, blinking through the last bit of blurriness.

“She’s okay. She’s fine. Steve’s dealing with Billy,” Dustin whispered in her ear. Y/n’s head shot up and she turned to the kitchen where Steve and Billy were swinging at each other. “Fucking Christ…” Y/n sighed, stumbling to stand, and walking through the kids. “Billy! Jesus!” Y/n yelped, jumping out of the way of a flying Steve. Billy crawled on top of him, laying punch after punch to Steve’s face. Y/n kicked his back, throwing him to the floor and off of Steve

“You little bitch,” Billy chuckled, grabbing her leg, and pulling her to the floor. Billy slapped her across the face and grabbed her chin harshly. “Let’s leave the fighting to the big boys, huh?” he growled in her face. Billy sat up and turned back to Steve, grabbing his shirt, and pulling him up. He didn’t get much of a chance to start anything because Max stormed over, grabbed a syringe, and stabbed Billy in the neck with it. Y/n gagged, turning away from it, and hiding in Dustin’s shoulder.

“You little shit, what did you do?” Billy slurred, falling to the floor. Y/n slowly turned back around and passed her sister and Billy to check on Steve. Max grabbed Y/n’s bat, threatening Billy with the ferocity of a fully grown tiger. Y/n grinned with pride while still trying to wipe the blood off Steve’s face with her shirt. Steve was out like a light.

“Let’s get out of here,” Max said, holding up Billy’s keys.

“Ah! Ah!” Y/n tutted, snatching the keys from the shorter girl, “I don’t think so.”

The kids sighed in frustration at their plan being foiled again. “Get the shit we need for the fire. I’ll drive,” Y/n said.

The boys all smiled happily, high fiving before they ran off to grab the supplies. Y/n cleaned Steve’s face to the best of their ability and hauled him into the backseat of Billy’s car.

“Got a map!” Lucas said, offering it to Y/n.

Y/n stuttered, “U-uh… Max? You still wanna drive?” she squeaked.

The seating arrangement was extremely cramped in the two-door car, but they were on a mission so that didn’t matter. Y/n sat in the driver’s seat, working the pedals while Max sat in her lap and worked the steering wheel. Lucas sat in the passenger seat to read off their map, and the other three were squished in the back.

“Nancy?” Steve slurred in the backseat.

“You put up a good fight. He kicked your ass, but you put up a good fight!” Dustin whispered to Steve. Y/n snorted, glancing in the backseat. “Oh, my God!” Steve exclaimed, seeing Max and Y/n in the driver’s seat.

“Steve, relax. She’s driven before-

“Yeah, in a parking lot!”

“That counts.”

Y/n pressed harder on the gas in an attempt to make this conversation go faster. “They were gonna leave you behind, but I promised that you would be cool, okay?” Dustin spoke, trying to calm him down.

“Fuck this,” Y/n sighed, slamming her foot to the floor, and sending the car even faster. Steve, Mike, and Dustin started up in the backseat which was distracting everybody from the road. “Everybody shut up! I’m trying to focus!” Max screamed. “That’s Mount Sinai! Make a left! Turn left!” Lucas yelled. Max cursed and spun the wheel, turning left before Y/n could even think about pressing the brake. Y/n gripped the oh shit handle tightly, praying to a God she didn’t believe in that she wouldn’t die in Billy’s car.

“Stop! Stop! Stop!” she squealed, slamming the brakes just in front of a huge manhole in the pumpkin field.

“Incredible!” Mike breathed, “Told you… Zoomer,” Max stated before jumping out of the car.

“Aw, fuck yea!” Y/n exclaimed, pushing the seat forward and popping open the trunk. She passed out all the backpacks, and Mike and Dustin grabbed the gasoline. Y/n flicked her lighter, smiling as she ran her finger over the flame. After Dustin convinced Steve to get over it and help them out, they lowered themselves into the tunnels. “Ooh!” Y/n breathed, looking around at the flakes in the air.

“I’m pretty sure it’s this way!” Mike called, looking at his hand drawn map. “You’re pretty sure, or you’re certain?” Dustin replied, “I’m one hundred percent sure! Just follow me and you’ll know!” Mike snapped.

Y/n sighed, “That’s not helpful at all!” she called. Steve took the map from Mike and lead the way, asking Y/n to take the back so none of the kids got lost.

“That’s literally a butthole! Why are we walking past a butthole?” Y/n laughed, pointing at the puckering hole above them. Dustin laughed and stared up at the ceiling butthole. The rest walked past him, and Y/n didn’t notice he was missing until he started screeching and calling for help.

“Fuck! Dustin!” she yelled.

“IT’S IN MY MOUTH! SHIT!” he screeched before coughing and spitting. “God…” Y/n sighed, patting his back.

“I’m okay!” he said. Y/n laughed at him, patting his back again before they started their trek through the tunnels again. Y/n kept her arm around Dustin to keep him from getting lost again and she kept the mood pretty light by laughing and making some probably definitely misplaced jokes.

“Alright Wheeler. I think we found your hub,” Steve said. Y/n looked around, squinting at all the animal bones and random shit that was down there.

“Let’s drench it!” Mike said and they all got to work. Y/n sprayed gasoline all over the place, discreetly taking deep breaths because she kinda loved the smell of gasoline.

“It smells so good in here, guys!” she yelled.

Steve snorted, a small ‘ow’ coming after because of his nose.

“Alright, I think we’re good! Everyone out?” Y/n asked. At everyone’s nod they all sat in the tunnel. Y/n handed Steve her lighter and nodded at him.

“You owe me a new one,” she mumbled. He smirked and agreed, “Okay, you guys ready?” he asked.

“Light her up,” Dustin said. Steve flicked the lighter open, sighing about how much trouble he was going to get into before he tossed it into the hub. The vines lit up in flames immediately. Y/n stared at them in awe until Lucas her yanked away and they ran for their lives. Y/n slid around corners, picking herself up and almost leading the way with how fast she was going.

“Wait! Guys, wait! Mike’s stuck!” Max yelled. Y/n groaned, grabbing her bat from her backpack.

“Let’s help him!” Dustin said, turning back.

Y/n sighed, stomping up to where Mike was laying with a vine wrapped around his leg. “Is it really that big of a loss? Like…” she asked.

“Y/n!” Max exclaimed.

“Okay! Okay!” Y/n sighed, bringing her bat down on the vine until it unraveled itself from his leg. She stomped on it a couple times and they were back off. Well, they were until there was another Demo-dog in their way.

“Dart,” Dustin spoke. Dustin stepped up to the dog, trying to convince it to let them pass. “Will you let us pass?” he asked. It roared in return and Y/n gripped her bat tighter. “Okay. I’m sorry about the storm cellar. That was a pretty douchey thing to do,” he said, and it chirped in reply. Y/n pouted, tilting her head at the scene. The dogs were kinda cute when they weren’t acting like murderous, blood hungry machines.

Dustin waved them forward and they all slowly passed Dart while it was distracted with 3 Musketeers. It looked at them briefly, but it didn’t seem to care so they all ran back through the tunnels.

“Oh, shit!” Y/n yelped, tripping on her own feet when the ground shook around them. “What was that?” Max asked.

Y/n heard the Demo-dogs screeching through the tunnels, so she turned tail and ran without having to be told. She grabbed Max and lifted her up onto the rope.

“Come on!” Steve boosted Lucas up next. Y/n pulled herself up with Mike right on her ass. “Shit!” Steve sighed, grabbing his bat and pushing Dustin behind him.

“Steve!” Y/n yelled, shoving her hand into the hole.

“Dustin! Dustin come on!” the boys yelled in her ear.

Y/n shut her eyes tightly, waiting to hear her friends screaming while the dogs ate them bit by bit. But there was nothing. Y/n dared to take a peek and her eyes widened when she saw them standing there perfectly fine huddled together with hundreds of demo-dogs running past them. “Come up guys!” Y/n yelled, waving them up. Steve gave Dustin a boost before carefully climbing up himself.

Y/n pulled them all up and slapped Steve’s arm. “Don’t ever do that again! I thought I lost my only friends!” she exclaimed. Steve laughed and hugged her, ignoring her struggling in his grip.

“Y’all are some assholes for real!” she laughed, hugging Dustin instead. They laughed and went to go in the car until the headlights glowed brightly. So bright that Y/n had to hide her face in Steve’s shoulder to avoid the light.

“What the hell?” she whispered.

“El must have done it! I think it’s over,” Mike said. Y/n nodded, stripping herself of her protective gear and digging in the car for Billy’s wallet.

“Ice cream on Billy?” she asked. All the kids cheered and threw their gear in the trunk before piling in the car. Steve laughed and grabbed the wallet from her and looked in it.

“Ohoho! William Carey Hargrove? This is golden!” he laughed. Dustin nudged his side with a roll of his eyes, “Like you can talk, Ashley,” he snorted. Y/n guffawed at him and grabbed the wallet, silently teasing him about his middle name before jumping in the driver’s seat. “Let’s go! Dairy Queen isn’t going to eat itself!”

taglist: @sisgotdemons @tlclick73 @deafeningmoontragedy @marjoriea13 @playfuloutcast @twosluttychains @leetaeilsnecktattoo @lil-quinnie @razzles-bottom-lip @originalstar1 @yessargeantbarnes @bebe0701 @shotgunhallelujah @uselessastheginlasagnaa @mynameismothra @niragis-right-hand-rabbit @shecagobaby @moviefreak1205 @munsonmunster @chonkzombie @sadbitchfangirl @screaming-blue-bagel @urdad-hot @kjaxm @xxaestheticboyxx @ok-boke @coffeeaddictednymph @ohmeg

52 notes · View notes