#LIKE he's the only person out of all of my therapists that actually listens and is helping me uncover deep related things rather than

[cozypups]

i ran out of my antipsychotic and i have an appt with my counselor at 1pm which is in like 45mins and i really hate it because i feel anxious and want so badly to avoid it at all costs but i'm also looking forward to having the appt and i know it helps

[blindedguilt]

//CURRENTLY THINKING ABOUT MAGNITUDE NEGATIVE AND I AM N O T O K A Y.

[chaostudee]

i love you i'm sorry part 2, charles leclerc + jude bellingham.

summary : charles releases his debut album and fans go crazy, y/n and jude are the main talk over social media, and yet charles is adamant to get his girl back. faceclaim : cindy kimberly a/n : since you all asked here is part 2 <33 tysm sm for all the love ily all smmm also here is part 1. part 3.

y/nusername

liked by judebellingham, kikagomez, oscarpiastri and 5,720,820 others.

user278 oh she's defo listening to i love you i'm sorry

username_211 plsss 😭😭

f1fan ngl her and jude are acc rly cute

user00 the most gorgeous omlll

judebellingham ❤️

y/nusername ❤️

anon ugh what a bitch

username_78 i'm so glad that she is happy :)

f1fan_16 when i tell you i sobbed when i heard this lyric like i'm sorry but you can't convince me that he is not still in love with her

liked by landonorris, f1lover, justaninchident and 56,189 others.

landonorris trust me he is

user728 LANDO PLSS OMG username66 not him outing charles like that i can't

user400 on repeat.

username_15 this song feels like a stab through the heart.

charlesleclerc life recently 🤍🫶🐶

liked by landonorris, georgerussell, lewishamilton and 2,829,667 others.

user11 stoppp this makes me so sad to see leo without his mum 😭😭

f1fan i rly hope that he's okay

username_ we love you charles <3

user516 stop charles is actually the nicest person ever he does not deserve this

f1lover_45 ik charles is okay because he has lando

landonorris damn right

user526 off topic but the fit is fire 🔥

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

texts between jude and y/n

baby? jude

yeah? y/n

can i come with you to paris fashion week jude

what omg acc?! y/n

id love to come and support you sweetheart jude

stopp why are you so perfect 🤭💗 y/n

that's all you jude

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

judebellingham angel face

》 omg waitt is jude coming to paris fashion week?!?!

》 wait they are acc so cute

》 charles is better

》 y/n is acc so pretty

y/nusername paris fashion week with @ miumiu

liked by judebellingham, pierregasly, kikagomez and 3,282,962 others.

user82 she is defo getting war flashbacks from being in paris rn

username672 serving face !!

f1fan ooooo body is tea

justanichident so jealous of her beauty 🫠

kikagomez gorgeous gorgeous girl

y/nusername mwah

miuiu love the fit 😉

user526 guys guys did u see jude cheering her on ughh so so cuteee

judebellingham that's my girl

liked by y/nusername, kylianmbappe, lewishamilton and 9,728,551 others.

y/nusername love u smm thank you for supporting me 💋

judebellingham love u sm babygirl

user991 jude bagged a baddie fr

username both serving cunt

user_18 ultimate bi panic

f1fan oml the fits are actual perfection

ln4_67 y/n we need the skincare routine !!

username_99 my fav couple 💗

charlesleclerc album is finally out hope you enjoy!!

liked by lewishamilton, landonorris, oscarpiastri and 13,629,829 others.

user777 i'm in a puddle of tears

username51 i'm acc not okay LIKE SOME WARNING OF HOW HEARTBREAKING THIS IS WOULD HAVE BEEN NICE

f1fan okay kinda team charles rn because tf

justaninchident imagine your ex making a whole album about you, crazy stuff.

user33 LEWIS'S VERSE OMG THIS MAN I DIED

landonorris so proud of you man and so happy that not only me but everyone can hear this incredible record you made 🫶

user00 aww supportive bsf lando we love to see it

username11 so so good

f1lover oh charles

liked by justaninchident, f1_67, user88 and 172,552 others.

user415 nope.

username11 i'm crying over this like it's my own breakup.

justaninchident my therapist has heard too much about this that she is acc fed up of me.

f1fan_333 best song on the album but the saddest

user00 omgg guys imagine if he went on tour and sang these songs

f1_5 y/n lost a good one

user44 we all know damn well that she would take him back in heartbeat

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

texts between jude and y/n

why did you lie to me??? jude

i didn't exactly lie....i said i was meeting a friend y/n

A FRIEND AS IN YOUR EX WTF Y/N jude

i'm sorry i didn't think you'd y/n

well i sure as hell do mind jude

you know damn well he is still in love with you jude

yk what? jude

what? y/n

i think you are still in love with him too jude

jude baby what are you talking abou i love you y/n

bffr y/n jude

i acc can't with you rn jude

i knew that getting myself involved with you was a mistake everybody warned me saying that you'd go back to him, well ig they were right jude

but i love u y/n

well too bad jude

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

judebellingham no caption.

liked by kylianmbappe, footballfan_67, user626 and 7,529,331 others.

user432 no y/n.....

footballfan_67 my goat 🐐

username55 he deserves better than y/n honestly and anyone who says otherwise is dumb asf

f1fan he's so real for the no caption

username_411 yesss no y/n finally she was such a bitch

user11 bro acc finally looks happy

f1lover wait do we all acc think they broke up??

y/nusername

liked by charlesleclerc, kikagomez, landonorris and 5,311,905 others.

user445 i'm so in love.

username67 serving face

f1fan i hope she's okay she looks a bit sad :,(

f1lover omggg charles in the likess

user900 my fav ever actually

username526 petition for y/n to become a victoria secret model 🪽🫧

y/nusername

》 omg

》 y/n defo cheated i don't believe this crap

》 it defo wasn't mutual literally jude is with another girl, he either cheated or y/n did

》 oh she is soooo going back to charles

y/nusername

liked by charlesleclerc, landonorris, carlossainz and 12,618,341 others.

user516 SHE'S BACKKK

username_67 omfgggg

f1fan ARE THEY BACK TOGETHER WHAT WHAT

justaninchident guess she finally realized that charles is just better

anon girl just broke up with jude and is now back with charles bffr omg like

user19 i need a moment BECAUSE WHAT

f1lover this is so y/n coded

user890 it girl before it girl now

username_56 i've never been happier 😫😫

user_53 guys guys hold up they could just be friends

anon shush let us dream

taglist⭑.ᐟ

@lottalove4evelyn

@sweetestgirlintown111

@mxryxmfooty

@hadidsworld

@llando4norris

@heavy-vettel

@nichmeddar

@seonghwaexile

@janeh22

@love2readd

@depressedriches

[drdemonprince]

At one point he was down in between my legs, fingering me, and he made a throwaway comment about probably being Autistic. 

I leaned back, trying to relish what pleasure I was getting. “Well, we can talk about that subject, if you like,” I said vaguely, not really wanting to bring my professional life into things. 

He kept working away at my body, kissing between my lips and thighs. “Oh I know who you are,” he said suddenly. “Your book changed my life. In a way, I guess this is me thanking you.” 

I made him exit my body and we went to the kitchen to hash it out. It turned out he was a big fan of many things I’d written. 

“I’ve seen you around the neighborhood many times,” he confessed. “But you posted online that you don’t like when people come up to you, and so I always decided to leave you alone.” 

He said, “Your book is the reason I got divorced, actually. My ex-husband was a therapist, and when I showed him your book and said I thought I might be Autistic, he didn’t believe me. We have been separated for a year.” 

He asked, “Did I just make this weird, telling you when I did that I was a fan?” I told him that if he’d said it sooner, I would have never fucked him at all. 

People never realize that when they approach me, what they are doing is dragging me into work. It doesn’t matter whether I was at breakfast, or an orgy. I was just some guy standing there, enjoying his beer, but now they have made me the known scholar and author. And sure, my job might be meaningful, but that doesn’t mean I like to work. 

I tell my friend that I no longer want to be a public figure, and that I am planning how to make it all end. She tells me, “You’ve got to do what is the best for you, even if it’s something that the rest of us wants and can’t imagine giving up.” 

I ask myself, did I want this? It would be more flattering to say I didn’t, and play the role of the hermetic author whose work developed its own life purely because it was so good. But that isn’t true. 

From the moment I got a Myspace account in high school, I was publishing essays about my political views. I serialized multiple novels on Tumblr, guerilla marketing them with giveaways and custom-made images until they hit the Kindle sales charts. I have made memes, tried starting viral trends, coined phrases, and given hundreds of hours’ worth of media interviews. I write prescriptive nonfiction, for Christ’s sake. Of course people seek guidance from me. I offer it up! 

I have been strategic about how I dress, and my video backdrops, and retaken clips of myself speaking over and over again until they sounded right. I’ve hosted debates with my most vicious critics while I’m in the shower, started public beef with creators who had larger accounts than I did, and rushed to my keyboard when upsetting news broke, because I alone was possessed of the most correct take on it.

I wanted this. I didn’t know what this was, this internet fame I was chasing, but I did all I could to make it mine. I thought that by writing so much, I would one day be able to escape myself, maybe really feel connected to other people. Instead it has meant never being able to stop thinking about myself: how I am seen, what I am working on, how it all fits together, what comes next. It has also meant being spoken about, theorized about, and criticized, and developing a firm exoskeleton of disdain between myself and the world. 

I believe now that that it is immoral for any person to be listened to by ninety thousand other people. Holding authority and status like that runs counter to my anarchic ideals. I am not more important or correct than anyone. I should not be trusted to tell people which commodities to buy, which companies not to support, what to read, what to think, what words to use, or how to conduct their lives. 

All the other animals know there is no one way that a creature “should” live. There is only the way that it does. The world has no consciousness, no beliefs. It cannot pass judgment. We only feel so watched and evaluated because we have covered the planet with so many millions of our eyes. But we can stop performing dignified human goodness at any moment. 

I think that celebrity is an evil, corrupting force that pits the human instinct for bonding against itself. Instead of appreciating the singing of our friends around the fire, we stream Chappell Roan until stalkers break into her house. Rather than playing card games together, we stan Twitch streamers, filling up their chats with highlighted messages until they acknowledge us. We long to be famous novelists because then we would have the social permission to write, and we don’t have the money or time to enjoy the activity on its own. 

I wrote about Chappell Roan, stalker stans, and how turning art into content creation ruins the work, and the creator's life. It's free to read in full (or have narrated to you by the app!) on Substack.

[sysmedsaresexist]

Changing mindsets, from a Real Anti Endo™️

The Release of the (Pro/Endo) Golden Goose

I hope everyone from all sides will give this important, heartfelt post a read.

It's likely something you'll want to be aware of if you have a vested interest in syscourse and the validity of endogenic systems. Please give this a chance.

It's been almost three years since I started my blogs. Wow. I've been on tumblr a hell of a lot longer, but I really wasn't involved in the system community. I started out firm and loud. I probably inadvertently fakeclaimed (I went into this with the rule that I would NOT directly tell anyone they were faking, it was a boundary that I knew would ruin me socially if I crossed it, but I'm sure I probably did without meaning to), I name called and made fun of people and things. I was disrespectful to people. I invaded tags to get my message out there, though I was quick to stop once I realized I was making the tags unusable for the community I claimed to want to protect.

I learned very quickly what was appropriate and what wasn't, what I could get away with and what I couldn't. It started to become a numbers game, influenced by the risk of the post.

I made a lot of friends and a lot of enemies, and I amassed a following of over 2k. More people have come and gone from my little community than I ever thought possible. People made fanart of me, and I cherish those so deeply. I have over 300 asks because I struggle to delete the ones thanking me.

And the more I was thanked, the nicer I got, the more thanks, the nicer I got, rinse and repeat until I had trouble NOT empathizing with pro/endos. The more I was willing to listen, the more legitimate sources I came across that disproved my original ideas about consciousness. The people sharing the sources were more respectful than I thought they'd be. Things were starting to look a bit cloudy.

I talked to my colleagues about how they, as therapists, would handle some of these endos in their practice, and while their belief in the concept varied, kindness and attempts to understand was the consistent answer. When had I lost that kindness and understanding that had driven me to that field to begin with?

Colleagues, yes. For those who don't know, I have a degree in social services and counselling (plus three other degrees). It's why the current situation with the antis turning on me is so funny. I still can't get into the mindset of some of these new anti endos, I just can't imagine justifying that level of cruelty. I had lines that I wouldn't cross, and I didn't think people could be worse than me.

... That might have been a trauma thing, looking back on it.

So I got desperate.

I spoke to the actual doctors who wrote some of these papers all of us are quoting. Everyone was arguing the meaning of the words, so I went directly to the source.

Dr Colin Ross, who wrote about endogenous multiplicity in the 80s. I told him everything-- about plurals, non-traumagenic systems, syscourse, what was being debated, how I and others interpreted his words, and what I wanted to learn.

Was plurality only trauma based?

And back and forth and back and forth we went, with me asking over and over again in different ways, NEEDING to hear that it was.

But I never got that answer. He meant what he meant. He said what he said and he meant it.

That plurality was not only found in the aftermath of trauma.

And I said nothing to anyone because I couldn't reconcile it.

Don't try to read between the lines, I assure you, there isn't some hidden meaning to be found there. I can't share all of the messages because some contained personal information, but my final response will tell you all you need to know.

(It did NOT, in fact, make sense, and it took me three years to "rethink my paper" that endogenic plurality wasn't possible, I did not win that conversation, it was a dying stance that was not supported)

I've been accused of paying too much attention to my follower count, but I can't really help it. It's really scary when you make a post and see a sizeable drop. It means a lot of different things. My posts have less reach and support. I've upset people. I've done something wrong. My community is leaving me.

I'm in a weird spot, where I'm blocked by so much of the pro/endo community that I have nothing to join, and the anti endo community, who I still wholeheartedly support, continues to leave me for -checks smudged writing on hand- being too nice??

Misinformation about DID is a massive problem, and it's why I still consider myself anti endo and support that community. I relate to them in such a way that I'll always gravitate to and empathize with them.

Or at least, that's what I thought.

At this point, though, how can I not be pro/endo when Colin fucking Ross says it's possible?

I've already written about how I'm really struggling with these labels, and I love the people that have stuck around while I struggle to figure this out.

I hurt when I see the people that once supported me leave.

My (online) world is shrinking. Literally.

That's scary.

When you've watched so many turn away, you start to wonder, with every post, where is the line where the rest are going to leave? Is it this post?

I just want to be me, us, we want to laugh at the stupid crap people say, system or not, I want to talk about my disorder, I want to combat misinformation, I want to have productive, fun conversations about ideas and concepts with people who disagree and have different interpretations. I want to play devil's advocate and get people thinking. I want to be able to comment positivity and kindness on any post I see, I want to feel comfortable talking to more people about their ideas. I sympathize with anti endos, I relate to CDD systems, I still firmly believe that CDDs and plurality are different, unrelated concepts.

My priority will always and forever be the CDD community first and foremost.

However, I am a hypocrite. I have gone straight to the horse's mouth and failed. I've seen so much research that I finally get it. I'm grappling with holding on to this conversation with Dr Ross, wondering what harm I could have prevented if I'd gone public with these emails earlier.

Since when has being open to change been a bad thing?

Since when has showing respect to lived experiences been a bad thing?

What am I? What label describes this?

How do I go forward from here?

What are you going to do with this information?

I promise you, hate isn't the way forward.

[plaidos]

First trans "friend" I had after I realized I was trans was a transmasc who is still to this day the person who, IRL, has said the terfiest shit to my face.

One example- I was talking to them about how I had wanted to go out with a bunch of my cisfem friends to get waxed down there just for a girly experience but no place we could find nearby allowed trans women, and it made me feel rly rly sad and frustrated and not affirmed and discriminated against.

Their response was "well yeah men would use it as a way to get in and sexually assault those workers so they have to do that".

No sympathy. No understanding. Just pure unadulterated "you can't be allowed into women's spaces (which I know I'm still allowed into lol) bc then creepy men would come in and do sexual assault, sry"

To this day I've had 4 transmasc friends that at some pt or another I considered extremely close and important friends and only one hasn't massively disappointed me. And even he has said shit sometimes that's disappointing but at least when I push back he listens and improves. And he's the only transmasc that's been understanding of and caring about why, for a long time after we started hanging out, I had spiky shields up and kept explicitly telling him I didn't trust him to not abuse his power over me. Also he doesn't make his difficulties with masculinity my fucking problem, he talks to his therapist abt it instead lol.

So like. I know it's possible. He's shown me it's possible for transmascs to be actually kind and caring and loving and understanding to us. Which in a way just makes it all the more disappointing that most choose not to be.

the crazy thing is that the type of transmisogyny you're describing is completely normalised within TME trans spaces, and constantly dismissed as an understandable trauma response that trans women just have to put up with.

transmisogyny is the standard, even within the trans community, even from transmascs. to pretend that it isn't is to encourage it further.

[chattemagique]

yandere! AllMight headcannons + chapter 1 (?)

tw: self-harm, kidnapping, use of curse word (fuck), stalking, obsessive behavior, mentions of daddy issues, indirect mentons of suicide, reader has mental issues fem!bodied reader, mentions of sex

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

PROCEED WITH CARE

- Basically his associations with his first crush and you influenced his main delusions. Also that you wanted to become a superhero, which is so altruistic, just as she was and he was. You were totally made for him. And even in this difficult situation he was there as your savior to guide you towards the right path.

-yan! All might doesn't see you as a villain

-rather as lost young woman or rather babygirl (im sorry for the old ass joke, this actually stayed in my drafts for almost a year)

-delusional yes -his roles in reader's life borders between someone similar to a father figure and a lover, leaning more towards the lover side -would play a therapist with you -could give you the whole world if only you stayed with him and listened to him, stop committing crime and maybe found yourself some hobby or activity that you like

-he would try to be your therapist, would do a little research on mental health and self-harm as he's busy with work/or ask the therapists that worked in the same company as him

Just imagine sitting in his lap while crying in his chest. His hand slowly caressing your back while whispering sweet, comforting words in your ear that it's going to be alright, that he's going to help you get through this.

-ngl I feel like (y/n) would be the first one to initiate sex despite All might being delusional he wouldn't force himself onto you he's just not built this way (kidnapping doesn't count tho ) besides he did that to save you from prison

-It'd be after some time, when he's tried talking to you, feed you with your favorite food and many other interesting, cute desserts that he'd usually bring Midoriya, walking with you in the garden (in the house that he'd brought you in) out of desperation you just kinda started to open up to him, bc there was nowhere else to go.

-he's actually completely fine with you disappearing and not appearing in public anymore, if you don't wanna be a hero

-if you do, then he will "wipe out" any information about this robbing case which has your name, using his connections or/and suggest you to change your name 

***

There used to be a time, when you wanted to become a hero. Not anymore tho. You're even started to doubt whether this wish was yours and not somebody else's.. Were you yourself or just wearing a mask, pretending to be a good person, when in reality just a hypocrite.

The bank's visitors and employees all had their faces planted on the floor while your partner in crime used his quirk to emit temporarily paralyzing smoke to watch them.  You took money from safe deposit boxes.  Someone's money lol.

You didn't expect that he would be here. You were hoping that some average hero would arrive here, when you had already stolen some amount and slipped away together with your partner in crime.

"I AM HERE"

-Shit

Having barely fastened your bag, you headed to the back exit, which led into narrow alleys.  Hearing how your partner was arrested, deciding that all the attention would be on him, you ran as far as possible, weaving through the streets.  Finally seeing the descent into the subway. Since it was night, there was no one in particular and you headed as far as possible.

"Damn, I thought, that I might have to use you, " you caressed the gun through your jacket. It had two bullets, in case if this ain't going to end well and you wouldn't want to suffer in prison. It was that bad and hopeless.

The thing is he still remembers you from the first time he met you 2 years ago, when you were leaving your job at night. He saved you from the robber with a gun.

You reminded him of his first crush, your face, your body, your hair, smell, voice, your beauty, everything. And your potential that he saw in you, when you still wanted to become a superhero.

From that time he watches you all the time.. At first he thought that it wasn't normal, but he just couldn't help himself to keep watching you. Especially when he saw the scars on your wrist.

So the days went on and on and you totally forgot about this accident and couldn't even imagine that someone like nr.1 hero was stalking you.

Obviously, he was very disappointed when he found out about your robbing plans. And he never really liked your villain friend. How could somebody like you even be friends with him?! But that was also a part of your charm, since you tried not to judge people by their cover. So why were you then so judgemental about yourself?

A sudden looming figure was approaching you from the other side of the tunnel. You tried to change the directions, but it was following you. You're at a dead end now. Either you're going to the police, either to them now. Well, you decided to test your chances and meet them.

"okay" you thought, "imma just act as if I'm lost and looking for a way out towards the forest."

You saw some tall middle aged man and decided to just walk past him, as if you're looking for another exit.

"y/n"

You stopped.

"You're on a wrong path."

"Sorry?" you were confused. Who the fuck was he?

You turned your head. Your eyes met.

No. There's no way it's him.

He transformed into his full form and the tunnel room seemed so small in a second.

You didn't realize how you released the bag from your hand and were going to try to run through walls. Your quirk wasn't that advanced, but you could walk through walls. Only it was already too late as you approached the closest wall and felt your heavy eyelids closing.

You woke up in bedroom. Similar to the one you had at your home. You even thought that It was the one and that this whole non-sense from yesterday was just a dream. But it wasn't. Soon you noticed the difference from your usual room.

Your left leg felt heavier than usual. There was a black anklet that you couldn't remove. The room lacked some decor and also the drawers and wardrobe had other clothes you've never had. After inspecting the room, you decided to see what else could be hidden here. There was a big, dark brown woody closet with mirror. You opened it. Suddenly you noticed that the back of the closet was covered with pictures of you. Pictures of you being outside and inside of your room through window.. Scary shit. What the actual fuck.

You just remembered that it was All Might who you've met yesterday in the tunnel. The shocking memory made you fall back and hit the side of the bed.

"Ouch!"

Suddenly the door knob started moving and he walked in.

"(y/n), are you okay?"

You were probably delusional. You were surely delusional. This situation wasn't even serious. It couldn't. You were sleeping. Sleeping for sure.

If only.

"W-what do y-you want from m-me?" your voice was trembling.

"I want you to feel and become better.. with me." Nr.1 said surely.

[k-pepp]

With the final season of YR coming up, I’ve been thinking about Wille’s journey again. Because he’s 16, we won’t know if he actually chooses to renounce his title or remain in his role as future king, but I have a feeling this season will give us an indication which way it will go. So, before we get any type of confirmation, I want to get my current thoughts out. I’m aware that a lot of YR Tumblr skews toward King Wilhelm so my pro-renounce post might not resonate with anyone and that’s ok. I just want to put all my thoughts together before S3 comes along with something that totally blows all my opinions and assumptions out of the water 🙂 I understand the idea of wanting Wille to be King because he could be such a great leader. He is kind and compassionate and can be good at taking charge. BUT just because a person could be good at something, doesn’t mean they should be forced to do it. My number one reason for being in favor of Renouncing his Title is the sheer fact that Wille doesn’t want to be King. He doesn’t want the title. He doesn’t want that life. Wille has been shown a multitude of times talking about how he struggles with the duties that come with being a prince. Whether it’s with Erik:

Or August:

Or Boris:

(honestly, this boy will spill his guts to anyone who is willing to even half listen to him. My god. I’m so glad they gave this poor kid a therapist) He's also talked about how he feels trapped in this position. For him, to renounce the throne would be freedom. Freedom to live a life he actually wants.

Even the mere idea of staying in his current position makes him physically ill.

Some people take the end of episode 2x06 to mean he’s moved beyond all that and accepted his role as the future king. I didn’t personally see it that way. I saw it as a combination of a few things. 1) When come face-to-face with it, he just couldn’t let August give the speech (But the fact that he was initially willing to let someone who distributed revenge porn against him become king really speaks to how much he definitely doesn’t want that position) 2) He didn’t want Simon to have to compromise his happiness and give in to a situation he didn’t actually want 3) He didn’t want to hide anymore. He wanted to be himself. Wille is a person who craves authenticity. Which brings me to a bigger point… Life as the Crown Prince / King is inherently inauthentic. One of the main pro-King arguments is that he would blaze his own trail and do things his way. But how? Being a member of the royal family is a job. The basic responsibilities of that job are to do things like diplomatic visits, hosting events, being part of photo ops, schmoozing with people… pretty much all things having to do with putting on a public persona. It’s great that he could be himself in the sense that he would be the first queer Crown Prince / King, but the baseline duties he would have to fulfill are still inherently inauthentic. And I don’t know how he would “do it his way” aside from just not doing it. He hates putting on fake smiles

the photo ops

the schmoozing with people

Erik even told Wille, the way to get through that stuff is to just pretend to be someone else.

We know he’s capable of doing it. We saw how charming he could be at Parents Day weekend. But that was because he wanted to sit with Simon and impress Simon’s mom. Other than that lunch, he mostly hid in his room. And it goes back to my original point. Just because someone may be good at something doesn’t mean they should be forced to do it. (And yes, even if he walked away from the line of succession, he could still have familial obligations, but it wouldn’t be anywhere near the level of what is expected now) At this point, Wille is only continuing as Crown Prince because of a commitment to his family. Mainly Erik.

He doesn’t want to let him down or feel like he’s betraying his legacy. To Wille, Erik was perfect. We only saw two full conversations between them and in both conversations, Erik was telling Wille to get his act together because “it’s not that hard”.

That quote is probably something he told Wille a lot. So much that Wille later regurgitates it to Boris. Three different times.  

Going on to say that Erik could handle everything easily.  

Based on the fact that Erik was going to Boris, he probably wasn’t managing everything with ease. But in Wille’s perception, he was. Wille is basically chasing a ghost. Self-imposed pressure of unattainable perfection. He bears a guilt that pushes him to want to be someone he thinks Erik would be proud of.   The problem with that is, Erik was a monarchist. Maybe he struggled a bit (which is why he went to Boris), but based on the things he would say to Wille, he backed the monarchy / family completely.

Ultimately, I just want Wille to be happy. Maybe S3 will completely change my outlook and I’ll root for him to become king because that’s what he wants. But right now, I think he only wants it out of a sense of obligation to Erik. And honestly…maybe my most controversial opinion…if he did stay in his position because of Erik, he probably wouldn’t change that much within the institution. I mean, he couldn’t change much even if he wanted to. He wouldn’t be allowed to do big things without the consent of the Swedish parliament and maybe a public referendum. And I doubt he’d even have the capability to make small changes. As already pointed out by @piebingo in this great post, Kristina didn’t actually want August to be next in line. But she was overruled. The Royal Court has a lot of power and making any sort of reforms or independent decisions is not that simple. Especially within an establishment that relies on keeping everything exactly the same. But even if that weren’t true. Even if Wille could snap his fingers and make all these huge changes… part of me doesn’t think he would. I know a lot of the folks who are pro-King Wilhelm want him to become the king just so he can completely destroy it from within. But to me, in Wille’s eyes there would be no bigger betrayal to Erik’s legacy than Wille burning the institution to the ground. And if he wants to live up to Erik’s legacy. Not betray him. Not let him down. He will act as he thinks Erik would act. If Wille becomes king because of Erik, he’ll maintain the establishment because of Erik. And he would be miserable doing it. Miserable and without Simon. Yes, my other controversial opinion. If Wille stayed as king, Wilmon wouldn’t make it. Simon is described to us as a socialist. One of his introductory scenes is him calling the monarchy the country’s biggest welfare scammers. I can’t imagine Simon giving up his musical dreams to join an institution that he hates. I also can’t imagine Wille letting him do that. That was such a big part of Wille’s growth in Season 2. Wille wouldn’t let Simon sacrifice his happiness for the sake of his own happiness (being with Simon). Even if Simon didn’t end up pursuing something in music, he made it clear in his talk with Rosh and Ayub that he wants to work hard to make something of himself.

I mean, look at him. Look at this sweet baby angel’s face when he’s told he has an opportunity that will open doors to his future. I can’t imagine him giving up his ambitions or autonomy to become prince consort. Having to live every day under royal rules and protocols. Maybe he would. I personally can’t see it. And finally, I know a main reason people like the idea of King Wille is because we like the idea of a queer king. But as much as we all want queer representation; I don’t think it should be anybody’s responsibility to be the political representation that people want to see. Wille shouldn’t be in a position he hates because he’s queer. A queer person living their life and getting out of a toxic situation is also good representation. A person can’t fix the problem by becoming part of it. Having him be the face of an institution that’s been about exploitation and oppression isn’t going to solve it. It's always been said by Lisa and Edvin that Wille’s problem is not that he’s queer. It’s that he’s a prince. Everything about what’s making him unhappy is about him being prince / the future king. Him walking away from his title would be about him escaping a future that would make him miserable. Personally, that’s what I’m hoping for.

[wisteriagoesvroom]

For the trope mashup thing whatever: arranged marriage and neighbors 👀 - CX

again not one i would've picked but thank you for prompting it !! this also uh, got longer than i thought.

(from the prompts mash up - still taking submissions)

--------

“What do you mean your visa’s running out?” Lando asks.

“I’m Australian. Not a magician. Commonwealth only gets you so far.” 

“I thought you were here on a scholarship.”

“Well. Yeah. But scholarships stop. Once you graduate.” 

Lando toes the doorway rug. It feels weird to be talking about this in the middle of the hallway, though the only other person who would be listening might be Mrs. Kapoor, and half the time it’s only because she sticks her head out to ask if Lando or Oscar would take one of her mystery vegan curries. Lando is neither a huge fan of vegan food nor curry, and he trusts Oscar’s word for it that it’s good because they eat it while playing Gran Turismo at Lando’s place. But Lando always accepts the curries nonetheless, because his parents raised him to be polite, and he wasn’t raised in a barn. (Even if he technically grew up in converted farmhouse in the countryside, but that was besides the point.)  Either way, this is slipping away from him much quicker than he’d anticipated. Late night hangouts, dropping mail and post-it notes, text messages about the community garden. The most inane smalltalk about things big and small from the origins of moths to whether aliens were out there or just chose to ignore the +44 area code. Oscar always laughing in the right places when Lando regales him about tales of his terrible online dating stories, Oscar always picking the pickles out of the roast beef bagels before he passes one to Lando. The corner of Lando’s sofa that Lando has started to think of as Oscar’s because he’s there so often, reading one of his books or trying to speedread a JSTOR article about the lifecycle of urban pathogens while Lando worked on artwork for his upcoming store launch. 

Lando’s synapses are firing too fast. His brain did that most days, and that was what made him exceedingly good at his job, and today in particular - it doesn’t feel like there’s any logical way out. 

Lando remembers that movie they watched once though. As a joke. The one they both pretended not to enjoy, with Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds in Alaska. The one they watched when Oscar sat next to Lando on the sofa, and they both pretended the entire night that their knees weren’t touching. 

His therapist said he had a tendency to get ahead of himself when under stress. But it’s a joke, it’s not serious, there’s no way—

“We could just like, get married.”

Lando shoves his hands in his pockets. That came out way more calm and cooler than he thought it actually would.  And to his credit, Oscar doesn’t drop his mug of tea. Lando knows that’s his favourite one, because Lando got it for him, and it says Science is my superpower. Oscar does, however, slightly shift his grip on the mug.

“I feel like it’d be complicated to explain to my mum why I randomly married my upstairs neighbour?” 

“But it’s not a no.”

Oscar tilts his head. There’s a glimmer of something focused, maybe even hungry in his eyes. Oscar gets like that when his mind turns, when he’s working on an especially difficult thesis, when the pieces are forming and he can lock into the crucial details.

Lando is a little alarmed at how much he already recognises it, and how much more often he’d like to draw that reaction out. 

“If the facts don’t fit the theory, then reexamine the facts. Right?” Oscar says.

And Lando is there, in the doorway. Conscious that Mrs Kapoor might’ve heard everything, but all the more conscious that there’s a hammering in his heart that he can’t tell is nervousness, or anticipation. 

What’s the stress limit for a joke you’re probably already pushing too far? Lando thinks.

He isn’t sure.

But maybe it’s a thesis worth testing out.  

-------------

(and ok maybe i cheated a little on arranged marriage but i think this is the closest i could get with the contemporary context. thank you @cx-boxbox for the prompt <3)

[yaseraphine]

RANT ABOUT THERAPY AND WHY IT'S NOT MY CUP OF TEA 🤡

+ trying to guess the therapist's rising and our synastry and ranting about it cause I am tired man (and too sensitive lol)

Really messy post btw just a disclaimer lol

(Update 23/11/24 : I might have slightly overreacted 🤡😀😁 lol plus maybe the therapist was actually a Taurus rising lol idk man I am confused as fuck about everything bye 😝🤪🫡)

Just had my first therapist appointment since 2021 and what can I say....it was REALLY awkward. I don't know how people are able to spill their deepest traumas like that bro she just sat down and told me to talk 💀 like what I thought she would interview me or start the first appointment with pre-made questions to make a profile, regarding my background, family relationships,etc .. It was really messy and I was so confused throughout the whole thing.

I understand it's a privilege to afford therapy (it was 60euros for 45 minutes lol of course it is) but it is much more complex than just spilling your guts to a random with a degree.

Something about me is that I always thought i didn't really need therapy, no matter how painful a situation was for me. And it wasn't only therapy, it was also opening up to my own friends 💀 i could take care of myself like i always did anyways so whats the point of paying for it ? I understood people who needed it and felt helped by it. But it just wasn't for me. I have realizations on my own consistantly thanks to my self-awareness and trained and developped intuition.

What pushed me to go back to therapy even though i was , and still am, very skeptical in its effectiveness on me, is that this year, I realized asking for help won't actually kill me and that i have my limits as a human being.

I fear this appointment just unfortunately kind of validated my initial more negative feelings towards therapy and the idea that I don't really need it.

As a really introspective and painfully self-aware person who has a hard time asking for help (but is actively working on it), I really don't know what kind of therapy could help me, really. I know I probably have a few blind spots, but it's so out of my comfort zone to open up like that. I kind of hate it.

I want to keep an open mind, and probably try another therapist but damn if I don't f*ck with any, it just feels forced .. I trust divine timing for that because I don't really want to put myself in such a situation again.

Right now, I feel dirty knowing a random woman knows about my deepest traumas in a really messy and all over the place way. She has fragments of my soul, and despite me having somewhat giving my consent for it, it was too fast. Maybe it's my 8th house moon conjunct Lilith (1181) in Leo that is speaking but I feel literally violated. Strong words but this how uncomfortable it was for me.

Guessing the therapist's rising sign and ranting about 12th house synastry...

Random but I think the therapist in question had a Virgo or Leo rising... I already said it's the most common rising signs (especially virgo) and I am losing patience. We probably had a 12th house synastry that's why our exchange was really weird and scattered. She kept on making weird faces while I was talking telling me she didn't understand what I was trying to say.... I know it all too well because EVERY single person I knew or had interacted with that had a leo rising, my interactions with them were like this. I was saying stuff and it felt like it went in one ear and got out in the other. Like they could hear me but not listen and understand what i was trying to say. This kind of reminds me of Willy Wonka's relationship with Mike TV or wth his name is, in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory Tim Burton's movie. Wonka always said stuff to him whenever he opened his mouth like "I cannot hear a single thing you say because you're speaking gibberish"or whatever. (Me being Mike TV and Leo risings being Willy Wonka).

This is how every single one of my interactions with Leo risings went, no matter their gender or age. It was always like that.

[jerejerejere]

Well.

I guess I'm doing this...collection of observations from the autiomaa mv (i'm not going to call it an analysis) tonight after all 😅

So the mv starting out with a really short flash of the tear-illusion shot, then some short bursts of him in 2 locations in the mv, followed by a longer pan on a cracking facade...

The light effects on the wall look like being under water, which also kind of replicated by the fabric of his coat.

The following couple of scenes establish where he is - aimlessly wandering in some abandoned house - we zoom in intensely, almost uncomfortably close to his neck and eyes - he's making almost pleading eye-contact. He is wandering further, through the house, arriving at and entering

A staircase through a door, which closes after him.

To me, this signifies his decision to enter esc. The staircase can take you upwards - maybe signified by the lighted glass wall above. But what we see is not him confidently walking upstairs but being caught in that hallway, traveling up and down the stairs. He hasn't reached the upper floor and is caught in limbo. Alone with himself.

The therapist scene starts. He slinks in, hunched, making himself smaller than he is, drowning in his clothes. The session also takes place in a warehouse but it's set up in a way that it might as well be an interrogation.

He is pleading again - spilling everything out in the hope he's understood. However, what we see next is him talking/singing to a mirror image of himself. Either to signify he is talking to himself because the therapist doesn't listen and/or only he himself can truly understand and listen to his problems.

We get the photo scene - that one has been talked about at length

And that flash seems to start a transition in the video from where flashes were mainly used as separating element between shots to actually flashing on him physically and more relentless than before.

He is transversing more rooms and hallways - followed and faced by dozends of flashes from cameras, spotlights follow and corner him - he can't hide or evade.

He keeps traversing hallways and empty rooms but he seems locked inside - restless and defeated at the same time - either visual for his mind that he can't open up about but also very much likely his real life situation not being able to leave the house in peace.

He longingly stares out of the window. This is where i'll stick my neck out and say they deliberately recreated the visual from his Vogue shot in profile. I can only speculate but to me, it's to put something into contrast, either between then and now/after or maybe between outside vs inside. I mean. Look at it:

We see him(?) as a shadow behind the upper floor glass wall in the light - he made it there after all but we/his mind is still watching from below and can't make contact with that person up above.

His dance moves get more and more erratic, a bit like someone waiting and slowly going crazy from it.

Watching the headlines with the therapist seems to upset him. They are projected in stark white and big - because they are important to him, because they are bigger than him or because he is watching his own life happening like a movie but not feeling any of it as real. Others can't relate to it because it's just too uncommon and crazy. He realizes this while looking at his therapist, seeing how could anyone ever get it who hasn't gone through the same thing - he'll not have a chance to get this across.

His dancing gets even more lifeless afterwards - almost swaying in a traumatized manner barely holding himself upright, especially after the therapist proves to be useless and making things worse even. (To me, it's not quite clear what the cigarettes offered by the therapist signify - pharmaceutical drugs/tablets? The only way out is returning to his old vices?)

We end a little like we started - with an intense stare into his eyes. They are not pleading. They know. They see. (They demand better.)

Aaaand that's it for now. (I'm sure there will be one or two ''AND ANOTHER THING!'' but i'd love to hear from you also!!!)

Thanks for listening to my TED talk <3

[nuttytani]

Reacting to you playing otome games

characters: dan heng and jing yuan

tw: none except- maybe not proof read?

a/n: i guess we can officially say i'm obsessed with hsr now. my brain has been annoying me to write something for these two boys, and... i guess here we are.

Dan Heng

From all the world-saving and stellaron crisis, Dan Heng wasn’t able to spend much time with you, much to his dismay. Yes, he’d share a few text messages once in a while or even call each other, but those days were getting rarer as his work became even more serious.

On one of those rare calls, he found out that you took on a new interest. “Otome games”, or so they were called. He had little knowledge about it other than knowing that it was a type of dating simulation.

He had no issues with you and your new obsession after all, it’s just a game, and you were having fun!

Or so he thought until your love with these otome games became a little too much to the point of interfering with HIS love life. Why is his cuddle time with you being taken away by some- chunk of hot pixels? Instead of your hands wrapping around his waist, they now held your phone as you giggled at that….undeniable hot chunk of pixels. (According to you, it looked a lot like him and had a similar vibe)

You even had alarms set for your daily activities for these games, which had you scrambling for your phone; all the time. Your eyes would light up at whatever dialogues your "husbando" would say. 

Internally he would be screaming; "WHY WON'T YOU LOOK AT ME THE WAY YOU LOOK AT THOSE DARN 2D MEN"

Enough was enough! Dan Heng realised that at this rate, he would be ousted from being your boyfriend by a fictional character!

 Soon enough, that's how you found yourself on the floor, with Dan Heng behind you, caging you between his arms. 

Dan Heng grumbled, "It's my turn now. Pay attention to me," while avoiding direct eye contact with you.

"Oh no, have I made my boyfriend feel neglected? I'm sorry babe!" You turned to give a reassuring pat on his head, then jokingly added, "Though I suppose... You will need to learn how to share me from now on."

You receive a smack on the head at that

Jing Yuan 

Lately, he had noticed a hype around Luofu, which he soon found out, thanks to Yanqing. According to the young boy, certain “otome games” were becoming quite popular amongst the newer generation. Something about conversing with “hot 2D men with crazy backstories” made them feel “ooh la la”. Or something along those lines, Yanqing’s exact words, not his. 

“It’s actually super fun! Would you like to play as well? You get daily 5 tickets in a day, so it keeps you on your toes. And if I'm not wrong, there's even a character who resembles you, general!”

Jing Yuan declined and suggested the young lad seek someone else for his otome games, as he deemed himself too old and out of touch for such interests. He glanced up from his paperwork to find the boy giving him a disappointed look before quickly running off.

A few days after that incident, you had also fallen prey to these games, he figured as Jing Yuan listened to you talk excitedly about a "mysterious therapist with silver hair" from a newly released game, and how the character was both sweet and suspicious.

He was glad that you were enjoying yourself. Sometimes, it can be challenging to discover new interests as we grow older. At least, that was how Jing Yuan personally felt. 

As long as no harm was done, all is good!

Harm was indeed done. A lot in fact

He eventually discovered that these "ikemen" characters on your phone were taking his rightful place as your boyfriend. 

You no longer played with his hair or let him sleep on your lap… All these activities were taken away from him as if snatching candy from a baby.

It had only been a week into your... newfound obsession. You even bought a bunch of “Visual Novels” and spent many hours holed up in your room, and staying awake late into the night.

When he got concerened as asked for you to come to bed, all he'd get was: "Just five more minutes Jun-Jun! I need to complete this chapter, I swear I'll be there in five minutes, trust me."

Hmmm, nope, trust shattered and heart also shattered. Poor Jun-Jun.

It really made him feel sad, Jing Yuan’s signature :3 face soon turned :( which everyone noticed, it was hard not to. Even you thought his new behaviour to be strange and confronted him.

“My dear, I don’t mind you having hobbies, but please, give equal love and attention to your partner and not just those fictional “silver haired therapist” of yours.” Jing Yuan pleaded you with those puppy dog eyes.

“You should have said so from the beginning! I’ll tone my playing down a little. I didn’t mean to make you feel lonely…” You felt guilty and gave him a big warm hug, much to Jing Yuan’s pleasure.

“....How about a compromise?Let's both play these games together. Pretty please? At least once? You won't regret it! We can add each other as friends.”

He gave in. 

And now he’s obsessed with it.

Much more than you. 

honkai star rail taglist: none at the moment, but if you're interested, I can make one!

[carolmunson]

orange colored sky verse

he toys with the strings, a familiar riff from his late teens, nailed it right before he turned twenty. his foot taps along with the beat, in the zone, in the low hum of a side table lamp where the edison bulb glows orange. sometimes he unwinds like this — plays with his guitar with a bourbon in a glass next to him. better than his therapist, better than a phone call with steve. in his many decades of being alive, it’s the only thing that slows the gears in his head to a stop. just the strings and him. just the music and him.

you pad down the metal steps into the dark open concept kitchen and living room. he’d been off all day, and you knew this was his quiet place. him and his guitar. well, one of them, his favorite.

he doesn’t really look up when you go to the fridge for a pellegrino, he started buying them for his place when you mentioned liking them once. he replays the riff in a melody over and over, your head bobbing with the song.

‘let’s just forgeeettt, everything we said…’ you mumble sing under your breath. enough that his strumming stops and he looks up at you with a goofy grin, glasses perched on his nose.

‘what do you know about this song?’ he asks, voice like a worn record in the quiet of the apartment.

‘i got ears, babe. i was alive when the album came out,’ you laugh, cracking open the water and handing it to him.

‘nah, you would’ve been too young to be listening to that,’ he shakes his curly hair, taking a sip and putting it next to his bourbon.

‘ed it was 1999, you think i didn’t listen to american football in my emo years like, five years later?’ you go back to the fridge to get another water, this time actually for yourself.

‘ah yes, your scene phase,’ he nods, playing a harsh chord across the strings.

you roll your eyes, ‘it’s not a phase.’

‘oh i know,’ he teases. you make your way back over to press a kiss to his cheek.

‘you would know,’ you nod, ‘you’re still stuck in your grunge phase.’

when you lean back up to turn toward the spiral staircase he hear his quiet plea.

‘wait — um,’ he starts, ‘do you wanna stay down here with me?’

you look at him with a soft quirk to your brow, knowing he prefers to be alone when he’s down here tinkering, ‘you sure?’

‘yeah i,’ his face softens, ‘i just like bein’ around you.’

you come back toward him to offer another kiss on his cheek, spiky with new hair growth — not that you mind. you settle down on the sectional in the dark, watching his fingers and hands flow into his forearms while he plays new and old, some originals. he’s not trying to impress you, but you are always impressed when he plays. you know he knows that it does a little something for you.

but what you don’t know is that he’s never met a person that makes him feel quite like it does when he plays his guitar. that flows through him so effortlessly, like every song he’s ever written. you’re his favorite music to play.

[exaflux]

How good is BTAA Scarecrow at therapy really? (An analysis) (Part 1)

So I naively thought that this'd be a laugh. Take the unethical psychiatrist, analyse his techniques, highlight what he's doing in real world contexts and give him a rating. After hours of working on this though I unintentionally managed to construct a theory on how BTAA Jon might approach therapy. Oop.

This part contains- a breakdown of some psychological approaches in therapy settings, character analysis/theory of Jon (in the conclusion), Jon being awful

Disclaimer- I am not a trained psychologist or therapist or anything of the like. I did study the topic under a teacher who was a trained psychologist though, and I still very much like psychology, so that basically makes me an expert in this field. This is a joke. Do not take my word as gospel. This post was written for fun and will probably have a mistake somewhere.

Harvey and Two-face will be referred to seperately in this analysis, but if referring to both Harvey will be used as default. Jonathan is Jonathan.

A-Level psychology don't fail me now 🙏

Session one/"two"-

The following all takes place in S2, Episode 5

The first section of our analysis takes place on March 4th and the time is 2:02pm, surprising no one as Two-Face is present. Jonathan begins the session by setting up a recording and going through standard legal procedure, following the “Code of Medical Ethics” (0:15) of Gotham. He also makes note that the first tape was destroyed, again probably for legal reasons. Good start.

Being that it was Harvey that destroyed the last tape machine due to a mishap of it not being the first session and Harvey refusing to perceive the number one, Jon asks him to elaborate- “tell me more about that” (0:56). Asking for more info on something a client has said often shows interest, which helps with relationship building, and on the mental health professional’s end would help build an understanding of the client. It has been established at this point that the session is for “introductory psychoanalytic examinations” (0:24), so that latter point is especially important. Killing two birds with one stone, very efficient. Whether Jon actually shows interest towards Harvey’s fascination for the number two though is a completely different matter. 

In addition, throughout all this Jon also gives terse responses, “I see.” (00:49) (1:11), to Harvey’s statements to indicate he’s listening and doesn’t try to weigh in. One-sided conversation such as these allow the client to speak as much as they need to, the sessions are for them after all.  

So overall, Jonathan is being very professional so far. 

At 1:21 of the episode is when Jon finally decides to give his thoughts (after Harvey has finished talking) stating that "The best way for [him] to help [Harvey] is to establish a bond of trust between [them]” (1:26), something that Harvey agrees to. Truthfully, another thing that is important between client and mental health professional, so his approach isn’t wrong.

Upon Harvey agreeing to this, Jon promptly demands that he be given the coin, something Harvey doesn't want to do. At being told that he isn’t comfortable with that, Jon points out that "it's not up to [Harvey]" (1:46) and takes the coin anyway through it's infallible decision-making prowess and the full knowledge that Harvey relies on the coin for all his decision making. He successfully gets the coin, Harvey is unhappy, and trust is established. But not really because Jonathan didn’t respect Harvey’s personal feelings nor wishes. Which is a breach of ethics. Horrible decision really. Jon places the coin on the table, presumably in a place where both he and Harvey can see it, and he declares aloud that it's on the table. In any other context this might have actually been a good way to maintain trust while seperating an item of emotional importance from a client, but such actions should only be taken with the consent of said client. 🚨 JONATHAN IS BEING UNETHICAL HERE. 🚨

Afterwards Jonathan reopens the session, “We meet again for the very first time” (2:06) as though everything said and done previously never happened. He goes on to ask the pair to reintroduce themselves. He notably sounds more casual here and upon hearing that Two-Face is older asks “Harvey was here first, wasn’t he?” (2:21) in a tone that doesn’t sound genuinely surprised. The question was most likely asked as a method to fish for confirmation or another elaboration.  

He then moves on after Two-Face is done speaking, very obviously not caring about the reasoning given for Two-Face's origins, to say that he heard “a horror story” (2:58) referring to the courtroom incident. Despite Two-Face's response being a positive one, claiming “That day set me free, like it was in the beginning” (3:11), Jon instead believes that the incident “found [Two-Face] in [his] hiding place” (3:17) and that he was hiding because he was, and still is, “afraid of what [he] would do without Harvey” (3:27). Jon weighing in should have ideally been avoided here. Therapy is normally approached with a mentality akin to teaching a man to fish, where the point is to teach a client how to identify and analyse their own feelings.

Instead of stating why a client thinks/feels as they do, a mental health professional will tactically ask questions in an effort to get a client to reflect. Jon asks some of these questions- “Do you ever wonder what if that acid had taken more than half of your face that terrible day? [...] What if when the acid had done its business, there wasn’t enough of Harvey left to do the serious work?” (3:30) which, in a way, counts. There is still criticism to be had here though as wording can passively influence how a client thinks. Describing the day that Harvey went through his incident as being “terrible”? Probably made Harvey view a day considers favourably as something more negative. Likewise, stating that Harvey could have somehow been lost that day from the acid in all certainty no doubt might have instilled some sense of unease in Two-Face. You should avoid making clients uncomfortable. Bad therapy moment.❌And then Jon follows these questions to Harvey up with another explanation, "You won't let it [cross your mind] because it frightens you [...] the thought of being alone." (3:50).❌❌

“Let’s try something. Bear with me” (3:58) Jon says next, reaching for the acid he inexplicably keeps in his draw. Upon being asked what he’s going to be doing with it by one (two?) Two-Face, Jon retorts with his own question, “What are you afraid I’m going to do with it, hmm?” (4:18) before pissing around with the acid and wanting Harvey to “Tell [him] about the fear” (4:29). This is an example of Jonathan being unethical again. Remember gaining the consent of clients of a therapeutic activity you want to do together is of utmost importance. Likewise, then Jon clarifies that he thinks that Harvey is scared of the “other” (5:05) attribute he acquired that day that wasn’t just the acid damage. Believing that tapping into this fear would cause emotional distress, he proceeds to dunk Harvey’s coin into the acid, destroying it. 🚨JONATHAN IS BEING UNETHICAL AGAIN, DO NOT DELIBERATELY CAUSE MENTAL DISTRESS TO CLIENTS OR DESTROY THEIR PROPERTY. 🚨 According to Jonathan himself he considers his actions “aggressive intervention” (5:30), but Jonathan’s judgement for considering this necessary can be called into question. 

Finally, after everything is said and done and Harvey has in fact been reduced to “a puddle of quivering terror” (5:10) like Jon predicted, Jon is again back to asking Harvey questions about his feelings and acting like a good mental health professional. He even reassures Harvey that he understands! Creating an environment of understanding and lack of judgement is important in any therapy setting. And, further playing his role as a psychiatrist, Jonathan in all his understanding of Harvey’s inability to make decisions anymore prescribes him with meds of his own creation. He explains what the medication does positively, in fluffy terms rather than anything technical, and gets Harvey to take it. While Jonathan is allowed to prescribe medication like this being a psychiatrist rather than just a psychologist, the fact that he starts tooting his own horn about how good the meds are, neglecting to talk about the potential side effects, and then makes Harvey take them anyway is, again, unethical. Informed consent should always be taken from clients before prescribing and a therapy session is an inappropriate setting to advertise your products.

In conclusion:

Jonathan takes more Ls in this session of therapy than he has moments doing his job in the proper way, and his approaches to psychological methods indicate that he takes those Ls not from any amount of ignorance on his part but from a blatant disregard for the well-being of his clients. He plays nice and uses correct therapy techniques consistently only up until he establishes a "bond of trust" by removing Harvey's coin, despite Harvey's feelings. After, Jon can be observed descending more and more into ignoring basic therapy practices; providing his own viewpoints on events, outright stating why Harvey feels as he does, refusing to explain what he's planning to do, eventually getting to the point where he's talking more than the clients during the session. All this happens until Jon permanently rids Harvey of the coin for good, leading to an emotional breakdown in the clients and a subsequent administration of drugs.

If I didn't know any better I'd say that during these events, Jonathan goes from setting up the session like any mental health professional would to gradually steering the session into the direction he wants it to go. Even moreso if one regards how he brings up the court room incident of his own volition completely unprompted (2:50) which then leads that into bringing up the topic of fears. Which eventually leads to dropping the coin into acid... Now this idea is insidious enough as it is, right? I'm sure this Dr Jonathan Crane is a well meaning psychiatrist, I mean he's following Gotham's Code of Medical Ethics! So here's also a slightly different perspective to all this:

Jon is speedrunning therapy.

I mean think about it- not even two minutes into the session and Jon basically forces Harvey into "trusting" him. This is only the second time that they've had a session together mind and trust is a thing that often takes months or even years to form between a mental health professional and a client. The chosen method of building trust was to remove a valued item from Harvey and one that he relies on, again something that takes multiple sessions to build up to and- as had been stated- is a valid trust building technique. After taking the coin Jon still leaves it in a place where Harvey knows where it is, just like you'd expect in a therapy setting. Jon even asks the pair to introduce themselves before deliberately steering things into talking about the court room incident which is the nexus point for why Harvey relies on the coin as far as he's concerned. Even him outright telling Two-Face what his fears are could be interpreted as him not wanting to spend months doing the standard therapy approaches that aren't even a guarantee for any progress.

In fact, Jon doesn't even attempt to destroy the coin either until the following happens in order: he tells Two-Face he thinks the court room incident found him and he was hiding out of fear of what he'd do without Harvey, he then asks Two-Face if he's ever thought about what he'd do if Harvey was unable to do much of anything anymore, then outright tells Two-Face he's afraid of being alone before then saying "Let's try something" (3:54) as though he's about to demonstrate his point, forcing Two-Face to acknowledge it.

"I think we had a breakthrough" (5:36) indeed. Breakthroughs are when a client successfully identifies something about themselves, like where a thought or feeling or bad habit stems from. A client having a breakthrough is the point where therapy can progress. And, hey, Harvey probably did make a breakthrough from losing his coin, though it was forced. This breakthrough led to being given a special drug. Which is something to be explored in a later part.

Of course though none of this really matters. Therapy is about treating a person as a person and "teaching a man to fish". Apparently Jonathan doesn't care about fishing.

FINAL SCORE FOR THE SESSION:

🎊 3/10 🎊

Jon is definitely not lacking in skills when it comes to psychology or therapy techniques, in fact he seemed decent enough for the first chunk before the session metaphorically drove off a cliff through his driving- intentionally no less. He simply lacks regard for the feelings of his clients and is a walking ethics breach. Likewise he took deliberate control of the session, and whether the end result was intentional or not this is definitely not something to do in a therapy setting. His approach to "therapy" may lead to breakthroughs, making his clients recognise the things he identifies, but it's not in the true spirit of therapy. It's doubtful that a client under him would ever learn the techniques they need to overcome whatever things they might struggle with.

...And this isn't even getting into how much enjoyment he seems to get from making his clients uncomfortable.

[ominoose]

𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

Pairing: Android!Nathan Bateman x GN!Depressed!Reader Summary: Your therapist advises you buy an android as a companion. He's a pain. Warnings: None, just fluff. WC: 1.5k Thank you @jinjersnapz for beta reading :*

The moment he stepped out of the box you wanted a refund. Thinly veiled disappointed creased his eyebrow and tugged down his lips as the android, Nathan, took in the cabin. It wasn't much, that you'd concede, wooden floors, walls and roof with a bathroom, office, kitchenette, living room and bedroom. The basic rooms filled with what one needed to live, or as your therapist called it “bare essentials” and “not willing to take up your own space”. Bullshit, essentially.

And now the result of not listening to said bullshit was taking in your abode like it was a one star Air BnB that posted fake five star reviews. He probably wanted a refund as much as you. That was an accurate description of life since he was shipped into it, ‘I want a refund.’

“You're wasting time.” Said the most annoying alarm clock since the creation of alarm clocks.

You only responded by turning over and pulling the covers over your head before they were ripped off the bed and cold air attacked your now exposed and cold skin.

“Stop spending all your time in bed just to go bitch to your therapist about how you're worthless and your life has no meaning. Either get your ass up or I'll dismantle the bed and hide the screws.”

The petty, blunt asshole would. Last week he messed with the dryer's wiring, leaving your bed sheets wet until you finished your book (that he'd recommended, ordered on your Amazon and held you at laundry point to read), citing “intellectual enrichment” as the reason.

Getting out of bed was rewarded with him asking for a cup of coffee while he worked out (apparently the extra use of his metal tendons strengthened them over time), knowing full well he'd only complain about it being cheap. It was a hellish routine, but a routine nonetheless,  as your therapist annoyingly felt the need to point out every session. Begrudgingly, you'd also be forced to admit it was the truth. He got you out of bed, engaging with the house, energizing yourself and having some sort of start for the day. 

“Why don't we go out for a hike?” Nathan rounded you to grab the steaming cup of coffee, grimacing at the taste. 

Broad shoulders rolled openly, clad in simple grey tank top and black joggers. Despite knowing he had no skin, no actual flesh underneath the tanned synthetic layers stretched over his biceps looked soft enough to bite. Not that you'd let the android know.

“A hike? Outside? Today?” The spontaneous request caught you off guard, already openly reluctant. 

The deadpan stare he gave you behind the silver frames wasn't fond. 

“You live in Butt-Fuck Nowhere and want to just sit in this shitehole. Wasting your innate opportunity to explore nature's beauty.”

“Yeah, I do. Have a fun hike Nathan.” That statement was meant to be closed by you swiftly turning and walking back to your room, but a warm, calloused hand gripped your arm sternly and rooted you to the spot.

“How am I meant to have fun if you aren't there to bug? A walk in nature is an easy hack to ease your disease riddled brain and you don't take advantage of it. It's a wonder androids haven't taken over yet.” 

The way he refused to handle you and your depression like a porcelain doll was something you loathed to love about him. How odd that an arrogant android treated you with the most humanity.

“I'll upload a virus into your cloud if you don't let me go, see who has a ‘disease riddled organ then.”

“An STD threat, how cute. Try successfully updating your Sims mod folder and I'll personally walk you through the virus myself.” Logically, there shouldn’t be a lively spark in his eyes, but it was there all the same, goading you into spats with him, time and time again.

“I bought you, the least you could do is fix my Sims!” Another thing you hated needing from him was the way he fed and stoked your fire, turning you from dying embers to a roaring bonfire. It always happened before you were aware of it, always when he got that cocky smirk as if this was exactly what he wanted.

And following routine he simply walked away, rolling those ridiculously handsome shoulders to add salt to the wound and leaving you to seeth.

“Hurry up and get ready.”

When you finally crested the hill, sun shining down through dark pine trees, birds chirping around you, part of you conceded it was worth it. The other part was whining over the stitch aching at your side.

“God I feel like death.” The panting breaths came out as a fog in the cold forest, but Nathan paid no mind to the temperature or your whining. 

You never once questioned his ability to enjoy the cold whistle of the wind, whether or not he could feel the numbing chill in his finger tips. Why did it matter why his favourite spot was the waterfall, always cold no matter the season, a hint of a smile plucking at synthetic lips when the mist tickled his beard. It didn’t occur that it should matter, but it was noticed by him the way your mouse didn’t entertain the news articles discussing the ethics of how closely androids now resembled a human, drawing comparisons to fictional history of Dune.

Nathan knew more than anyone that you weren’t the academic, whizzkid genius he was. Your mind physically could not scramble through numbers and piece together advanced mathematic equations. You weren’t book smart, but it wasn’t something he considered lacking. 

You dismissed stupid opinions (like the aforementioned article) as if they didn’t exist to you as easily as you stood toe to toe with him to defend other stupid opinions (Aristotle was just some annoying old guy). You were acutely aware of your depression, the way your mind functioned against you and plodded on, taking it in your stride your own way.

As you keeled over, huffing out cold whisps, his dark brown eyes scanned every inch of you. There was no part of you he hadn’t cataloged and stored carefully in his memory banks, no quirk or habit was unfamiliar to him. Yet it always felt like a small surprise to see them unfold in the intimate privacy of the small bubble you both shared.

“Why’re you staring? You better not say I told you so, I’ll ship you back and enjoy going back to my solitude inside.” 

“You wouldn’t have to be alone. You’re pretty enough to coax someone into your little hovel.” Said like a passing comment on the gathering clouds.

“Pretty?” Said as a reaction, completely caught off guard.

“Yeah? How many times do we need to go over how your mind will distort how you perceive reality before you finally listen to me, sweetheart?” How was he managing to still be so condescending while arguing about how beautiful you were, how the softly filtered sunlight through the trees settled against your hair like the sun was made to do just that

No wonder humans had wasted so much time on artsy poetic bullshit since the BC’s, beauty really could be all you had the capacity to think about.

“Based on what? I thought you didn’t abide by societal constructs Mr Bateman?” It was a shoddy attempt at acting normal, but the supercomputer android would’ve already noticed the quiver in your voice and the red dusting your face. Maybe if you pretended you didn’t know he could do that, he just wouldn’t. 

“I’m abiding by my standards.” His eyes stared right into you. The words words hit you right in the stomach, no time to brace.

And he takes advantage of the hesitation.

“We both know I’m capable of noticing when you ogle me when I work out. We both know I'm equipt to sense when your heart rate picks up, which it does every time I lean over your shoulder to correct your shitty work. We both know I can literally measure the heat in your cheeks right now, want me to?” 

The speed at which your head shook had your hair lashing your face, something that only grew his smirk.

“You sure?”

“Fuck yo-” 

His lips were warm when they cut you off, subtly soft in contrast to the calloused hands cupping your face. Your mind instantly jumps to satisfaction that you’d been right in your assumption about the feel of his lips until the actual realisation that he was kissing you kicked in, and by that point he was already pulling away. You didnt even have time to savour how the cold metal of his glasses pressed against your nose.

“Lets go, it’s gonna start pissing down and I hate fogged up glasses.” 

Nathan was already walking back home, back turned until he realised you weren’t already trailing after him. He turned. You were still staring, lips slightly parted and wide eyed, not yet finished processing what had happened. His smirk turned soft.

“C’mon sweetheart, I need my shitty cup of coffee.”

[cxsmicbaby]

something nice - 1

CHAPTER ONE OF A SERIES 

pairing : miguel o’hara x fem!reader

word count: 4.1k

warnings : smut at the end! cursing throughout. enjoy :)

you and hobie play a prank. miguel doesn’t like it, but he can never stay mad at you. 

                                                      𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪

“And then... my uncle died.” 

“Mmhm.” The smell of hot coffee grows stronger. It’s mere inches away.. I just have to suffer through this for a moment longer. 

“And I realized. I’m not even real! I’m just a clone of the real Peter. And that totally destroyed me.”

“Oh wow,” I say, nodding. Ben, or Scarlet Spider, continues to go on about his tragic backstory, somehow still managing to flex his biceps as he begins to well up in tears. 

Finally, the spider in front of me finishes filling their mug and it’s my turn. God, if I had to stand in line with this melodramatic asshole for a second longer I think I would’ve tried to cut my own ears off. He’s still talking as I fill my cup with coffee, but this time I’m not listening. It’s probably some variation of the same things I’ve been through, anyhow. I wonder how Miguel is able to sit through thousands and thousands of these things whenever he recruits a new spider. He’s not a very patient guy. 

Miguel. He walks through the lobby at 5:30am, every morning. I woke up early today so that I would run into him. Not like I said anything to him; I walked past him, smiling, and he just grunted. Just about what I expected. But I still woke up early to see him. I feel a little stupid thinking about it. I’ll probably do it again tomorrow. 

“Yeah, Ben, that really sucks. Maybe you should see a therapist.” I turn and give him a pat on the shoulder, smiling as genuinely as I can. He nods, and wipes his teary eyes. This guy cries way too easily. 

I swing off into the main lobby. Thank god, I can be free. I don’t know what the plan is today, but I’m always up for an adventure. 

“Oi!” I hear, and behind me Hobie is swinging forward, his mask already on. That must mean there’s something happening. Regardless, I’m always happy to see him. He’s probably the only person I really talk to here; other than Miguel. 

“Hey! Got anything for me?” I ask, as we land on a free platform. Hobie pauses for a moment before he starts digging around in his pockets, and pulls out a bag of my favorite snack from his universe; unfortunately, it doesn’t exist anywhere else, so I depend on this not-so-dependable guy to bring them for me. 5/10 times he actually remembers it. 

“What’s with the drink? I thought you hated coffee,” he asks, plopping himself down on the edge of the platform. I do the same, and we watch as the spiders swing and climb all over the place, like a jungle gym. Every time I take a step back from this whole thing like this, it always amazes me. Just a few weeks ago, I was stuck in a universe where I was the only one, and now I’m in a place where everyone is just as corny as me. It’s lovely. 

“I do,” I start, taking a sip of it. I fight the way my lips threaten to purse in disgust. “I needed a pick me up.”

“Ah.” Hobie pulls at a loose thread of his shirt and smiles deviously. “Up all night thinking about Miguel, huh?” 

Hobie is far too observant for my liking. There’s nothing that gets past him, which is great for combat, but not great for me. 

I swallow hard, and shake my head. “No. And you should stop saying shit like that! What if someone overhears? They’ll think something weird is going on.”

“Like?” Here we go. 

“Like. They’ll think I’m in love with him or something. We’re just friends. He’s cool. I’m cool. Everything’s cool.” I sound like an idiot, and I know Hobie thinks the same when I hear him laugh. It’s like I’m a fucking teenager again, gossiping about my crush in the locker-room. I hated high school. 

“Cool, cool. Everything’s cool,” he teases, mocking me. 

We’re both quiet, basking for a moment in the odd sort of peace that comes out of this chaotic place. 

Hobie snickers softly, shaking his head at something that he’s thought of. “Heard some of the others talking bout how Miguel’s pickin’ favorites. Guess who’s the favorite?”

I sigh, and down the rest of the disgusting black liquid. “Whatever. I’m not his, uh. His favorite. He talks down to me like all the rest.” 

Hobie is quiet. That’s rare. When I look over at him he’s just staring down, a weird sort of smile still on his face. His fingers are drumming against the platform. 

“Hey, what’re we gonna do today? Please say you’ve got something fun.” 

That seems to get him, because his head perks up and that teasing expression is replaced by one of excitement. Thank god. If I had to talk about Miguel for another second it would not have ended well—I tend to get a little loose with the things I say the longer I’m forced to talk about them. 

“Something fun, eh? I’ve got something fun. But only if you’re up for it.” 

I smile. “You know I am.” 

Compared to a lot of the others, I’ve been here for a very short time. Still, I’ve learned the ins and outs, the dos and the don’ts. Like, do listen to what the higher ups (and Lyla) say. Don’t make fun of Miguel’s tediously slow entrance on that weird platform thing. Do make friends. Don’t be an ass. And for god’s sake, do not pull any pranks. 

The thing about spider people; we tend not to really listen to rules. 

Hobie and I are perched on a bar above the lobby. We’re trying to figure out the best way to go about things. Me, I think he should take charge, but he seems to think nobody really likes him, so they won’t listen. He thinks they’ll all fall in line with my beguiling feminine charms and do whatever I say. I think that sounds like bullshit, but I don’t really wanna do the other thing, so I agree to it. 

I drop down smack in the middle of a group of spider-people in a conversation. Immediately, I put on the most panicked expression I can muster and start running around frantically. 

“Jessica’s gone into labor! I repeat, Jessica is giving birth at this moment! Help her get back home so she can go to a hospital... or something!” I shout, trying to get as much attention as I possibly can. Of course, everyone loves Jessica, so everyone starts rushing to her aid. None of them actually know where she is, but they just launch into help-mode, as Spiderman does. Soon, the lobby is basically empty. Sometimes, I think about how gullible I must be if I’m really just a variation of this same person. 

“Coast’s clear,” Hobie calls, dropping down from above. “We don’t have a lotta time, gotta make this quick.” 

I frown. “We? But you said all I had to do was get them out!” 

“Yeah, that was a lie.” Hobie shrugs and tosses me a spray can. “Now, you gonna help or not?” 

The idea of getting caught spraying painting the building Miguel has built specifically for us makes me queasy. The idea of being caught doing anything that would make him upset makes me queasy. But if I back out now, then I just made a fool of myself for no reason. I don’t mind looking stupid, but it’s gotta be for a reason. 

I sigh, and reach up to tug my mask over my face in case someone realizes that Jessica is not even here right now, and decides to come back. I mean, not like I would really be hiding much, considering everyone knows what my suit looks like, but there’s no harm in it. 

The moment I pull it down, the room is doused in red light and an alarm starts blaring. Fuck. 

“You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me, mate,” Hobie groans, tossing his head back in frustration. “That old man did not just sound the alarm ‘cause we’re pulling a goddamn prank. Might as well do as much as we can before the rest of ‘em come back.” 

That does not sound like a good idea. If Miguel is angry enough to turn on the alarm that signifies intruders, he will definitely not like us continuing in spite of his obvious warning. But Hobie’s already swinging up, spraying bright purple in a strangely elegant ribbon across the walls. I start to hear footsteps, but they’re far enough away that I think I have some time. So, despite my better judgement, I follow Hobie, tagging wherever he’s painted with a green design of my own. Gotta admit, it looks pretty dope. That assuages my fears somewhat and I find myself letting go a little, whooping in excitement as I swing around the lobby. 

Then, I hear it again. Footsteps, but I know these very specific footsteps. Heavy, fast, angry. My stomach drops and I land, turning to Hobie to see he’s still painting away. He probably hears it too, he just doesn’t care. I wish I could be as carefree as him. Especially when it came to this sort of thing. 

But I can’t. In fact, once Miguel actually appears in the room, hair slightly disheveled, face twisted up in an almost scary amount of anger, I freeze in place. God, he’s fucking fuming. His eyes sweep the room like we just painted Miguel Sux! in somebody’s blood. And then his gaze lands on me, and I feel myself shiver; in fear, in anticipation, in... something else. 

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Miguel bellows, and that catches Hobie’s attention. Before he can say anything else, the flake is gone. Typical Hobie. Saving his own ass. I can’t even really be mad at him, because if it weren’t for the annoying way my feet were sticking to the ground I would’ve done the same. 

The alarm shuts off, and the room goes deadly quiet. I’m still staring at him as he approaches me, his chest heaving as he takes deep breaths, probably trying to calm himself down. He needs to see a therapist, I think, but don’t have time to even smile at my own quip before he’s looming right above me. 

“Do you get joy out of causing this type of shit? Out of wasting everyone’s time?” Miguel spits, and I know I’m supposed to be hurt by what he’s saying, but god if I don’t wanna just pounce at him right here, right now. 

So I keep my mouth shut. He doesn’t seem to like that. His fists are clenched tight at his sides as he studies me. 

“You know, if I knew you were gonna be such a fucking nuisance, I would never have brought you here.”

Ouch. That one sort of hurts, so I take off my mask and I look up at him, trying to keep my composure. I frown. “It was just some harmless fun, Miguel. No need to get so mean about it.” 

That was not the right thing to say, apparently, because his eyebrows furrow even deeper. Before he can open his mouth to say something that will probably make me cry, I force a smile and swing up to the wall. 

“And it looks great! Don’t you think this place is too... I don’t know. Sterile? Everyone’s gonna love it.” I hope he can’t hear the way my voice is trembling. When I hear my words echo back to me, I’m relieved to find that I sound quite confident. I’ve always been good at that, faking like I know what I’m doing. I think that’s a Spider-man thing. 

Miguel doesn’t speak. He crosses his arms over his chest and inhales deeply, hanging his head. 

“You are going to clean this shit up. Understood? And when I find that little shit Hobie, I’m gonna tell him the same thing.” 

I think that’s the closest I’ll get to him saying he isn’t really that mad about it, and that’s good enough for me. I swing back down to stand in front of him, and this time when I smile, it’s real. 

“Are you sure? I’m telling you, it looks super—”

Miguel’s eyes narrow and I feel my stomach twist. “Don’t test me.” 

I straighten up and salute him, fighting the urge to run as Miguel’s eyes burn into mine. “Yes, sir!” 

I swear to god, he almost smiles, before he just shakes his head. 

“Don’t do shit like this again. I won’t go so easy on you next time.” 

                                                       𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪

“You don’t let yourself have anything, do you?” 

Miguel pauses. He finds himself looking up at you, despite the desire to remain stoic and focused and uninterested. It’s always hard to do that, with you. 

“What?” he says, his voice slightly biting. He means it to be. He wants to scare you away so you will leave him alone, finally. It’s been mere weeks since you joined them, and in those weeks, you have made it your mission to annoy him more than anyone ever has in his life. It’s like you live to bother him. He should hate it more than he does. 

He should hate your stupid fucking pranks and your dumb, unfunny jokes. But he doesn’t. He knew it was you today, even before he got to the lobby, but for some reason he wasn’t that mad. And then the fact that he wasn’t mad about it made him mad about it, and he was mean to you. He wants to apologize, but that’s not like him. Everything he does or feels when it comes to you is a contradiction to the person he has built himself up as. The whole thing is just so muddled up he’d rather ignore it. 

You sit on a metal box to his left, swinging your legs back and forth as you scrutinize him. Miguel doesn’t like how you always have this knowing look on your face, like you’re waiting for him to discover something you’ve already found out. Frankly, all the Spider-people have that sort of glint in their eyes, but with you it’s different. He bites the inside of his cheek and forces himself not to look away. 

“I mean, you don’t let yourself have anything nice, or fun. The closest you get to letting yourself feel happiness is those empanadas you make me bring you.” 

You smile at him, and he thinks to himself that he wishes you would do it more, but the moment the thought passes he stamps it out with a frown. 

“And even then, you always scowl when you eat them.” You cancel out his grimace with a little laugh that makes Miguel fucking furious.

“You know, it’s not in your best interest to keep talking about this. If causing a useless ruckus is fun to you, then yeah, I don’t fucking do that.” He practically spits it, and swivels his head to focus again on his work. He doesn’t know if he wants you to apologize or if he wants you to just go. Apologize? He’s kidding himself. You would never. 

He can’t help but listen carefully for your movements, wanting to hear if you’ll leave or not. But he hears nothing, and he turns again to see you just sitting there, swinging your feet. Still smiling. 

“What are you still doing here? Don’t you have shit to do?” Miguel asks, narrowing his eyes at you. He notices that his tone lacks the sting he meant it to deliver and chooses to ignore it. 

You boost yourself up from the box and stand. “Not really. Can’t I just stay? I won’t make any noise, promise.” 

Miguel frowns deeply. “That’s impossible.” But he doesn’t tell you to leave. 

You sigh, your body swaying side to side. Miguel thinks its a subconscious thing you do when you’re standing; most people would just be still, but he’s noticed that you cannot possibly remain perfectly in place for more than a few seconds. 

“Yeah, whatever. I’m gonna get some sleep. You should too.” You send him a small wink and turn, walking off toward the exit. You stop briefly, turning to face him with an expression he can’t quite read.

“And, uh. Sorry about today,” you call, and he says nothing. You turn again and he watches you leave. 

Everything has changed since you showed up, and if anything can be taken from his obsession with anomalies, it’s that Miguel hates change. Especially when it seems like there isn’t much changing for anyone but himself. 

It was him that found you. He went on a mission to a universe he had not yet traveled; a rare occasion, because it wasn’t to destroy an anomaly, but because something was telling him to go. It wasn’t like a voice, or even a sense. More like a feeling. There was something there for him to discover and so he went without saying anything, hoping he’d be back before anyone noticed. 

Miguel found you on the roof of a museum. You were sitting on the edge, swinging your feet back and forth, just staring into the streets. You had your mask off, which he remembered thinking was incredibly stupid, seeing as it was still light out. Your suit was nothing to gawk at, nothing too different than the hundreds of others he had seen, but for some reason he knew it was you he was supposed to find. You, he had been called to. For what, he didn’t know.  

You noticed him before he intended you to. When you saw him, you didn’t look shocked, or scared; you looked happy. No one had been happy to see him in a long time. 

“How long you been standing there?” you asked, turning your body to face him. You crossed your legs and watched him approach, staring up at him like he was someone you knew, someone you had been waiting for. 

Miguel was quiet. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say. 

“You know, one of us is gonna have to change.” And you laughed hard at your own dumb joke. Your laugh made him uncomfortable, how truly happy it sounded, how real it felt. You seemed like you hadn’t yet experienced the tragic things that came with being a Spiderman. You seemed innocent. Like you needed to be protected. 

And by god, you were beautiful. The suit didn’t leave much to the imagination. 

The thought startled him and he stayed quiet.  

“Your suit is super cool. Kinda cyberpunk.” You stood and you watched him carefully, walking slowly around him in a circle. Miguel’s eyes followed you, his body on guard as if you were going to suddenly lunge at him. 

“Why aren’t you... surprised?” Miguel finally said, his tone accusatory. But you didn’t seem to notice, and if you did you didn’t mind. You stopped in front of him and stuck your hand out, inviting him to shake it. 

“Welcome to Earth-72, Miguel. I’ve been waiting for you.” 

And that’s how he found out about a Dr. Strange, and how you knew about Miguel already; in fact, you were expecting him. The idea made him irrationally angry. Someone like you, obviously flippant and probably reckless, with knowledge about something as dangerous as the multiverse? You were most likely new to your abilities, to the mask. You were too naive and carefree not to be. 

But Miguel was wrong. You had long been bitten, lost your uncle, your sister, your best friend. You just seemed to lack that bitterness that he saw in the others, in himself. You were happy. 

Like most things, that also made Miguel angry. 

You begged him to let you join the Spider Society. You said you had known about it for a while, and you dreamed of being apart of it, of something bigger than yourself. Your words exactly. He was slightly impressed by that, but didn’t show it. In fact, Miguel wanted deeply to say no. But he didn’t, for reasons he’s not quite sure of himself, and that’s how he ended up with a permanent, relentless distraction. He was starting to wish he never brought you back in the first place. 

If you were more like him, he thinks, he probably wouldn’t have this problem. But you’re not. You’re almost the exact opposite. It drives him fucking crazy.

Miguel shook his head, grunting in frustration at his own inability to focus. It seemed even when you weren’t there, he was plagued by the thought of you. 

And think about you he did, for hours on end, sometimes. When he would lie awake in bed, his body aching from the strains of the day. He wouldn’t be able to close his eyes, because the image of you was always waiting for him. Smiling, laughing. Looking up at him with those eyes of yours. He would find himself imagining what it felt like to be close to you. Your skin would be soft, he knew. Your lips would be softer. Your hands, calloused by years of fighting, swinging, winning, losing. How they’d touch him. How they’d hold him. 

How he would touch you. Make you feel good. Make you think about him, just like he thought about you. Make you want him. 

Miguel always lost himself in thoughts like that, and he was usually able to bring himself back to reality. When he got back to his room that night, though, he felt as though he couldn’t push it down. He didn’t let himself have anything nice. And god, did he want something nice. 

The water ran over his taut back, soaking his hair and running down his cheekbones. One hand, splayed against the tile wall, and the other by his side, just inches away from an itch he is fighting not to scratch. His cock is aching. He swears he can see it pulse with every second that passes, every drop of water that lands on his shaft, veins prominent and throbbing. 

Miguel imagines that you’re there with him. That you stand in front of him, and that instead of the wall it’s you he’s touching, your skin slick with water and sweat. That your hands are on his chest, your nails scratching him just the slightest bit, and god, those eyes, staring into his like he’s the only thing that has or ever will matter to you. 

When he finally wraps his hand around his cock, it takes his breath away. 

“Jesus,” he whispers, slowly stroking himself, gripping so tight he’s sure his fingertips are white. It’s not enough. 

Miguel closes his eyes, and immediately he pictures you. He feels almost guilty to think of you this way, on your knees, with your lips wrapped around his dick. But he can’t stop. His breathing grows heavier as he imagines you taking him deep into your throat, gagging on him, your nose brushing against his pelvis. He thinks about what he’d say to you. How he’d tell you how good you were doing, how perfect you were. He grips himself impossibly harder and is unable to stop himself from relentlessly jerking his cock, his hand pushing so hard against the wall he’s afraid it’ll crack. 

“Fuck,” he groans, his voice breathy and deep. More water drips onto his shaft and immediately he thrusts desperately into his own grip, envisioning that it’s you, spitting on him before you take him in your hand, running your tongue over his tip, looking up at him. 

He thinks about what you’d say to him. He knows he would be too big for you. But you’d try to take him all, because that’s what you do. He’s sure your hand wouldn’t even wrap around his entire length. And you would tell him how big he was, how beautiful you thought he was. You’d probably tease him too, about how quickly he’d been reduced to a mess, how eager he was. He’s surprised at how close that thought brings him, and he has to bite his lip to keep from letting out a shameful moan. 

When Miguel comes, he says your name. It’s not loud; it’s more like a plea, a prayer. His body caves in on itself and he shudders with the force of it, his legs trembling ever so slightly as he tries to bring himself back to reality. He stands there for a moment, trying to catch his breath, feeling a little ashamed at how quickly he finished. He hasn’t had the time to do anything like that in so, so long. He hasn’t let himself. 

He washes himself off and gets out of the shower. 

When Miguel lies in bed, he’s haunted by the thought of having to see you tomorrow, knowing what he’s done. And then he grows angry. You did this to him. And you’re not even trying; you’re just there. What a nuisance you are. 

He tries to close his eyes, but he finds himself plagued by you still. 

                                                      𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪

CHAPTER TWO