#and i did it without wrecking my mental health for once in my life

[saturdaynightghostclub]

Finished the first quarter of my Master’s on Sunday :)

[komohine]

Shitpost, and also here’s my headcanon Jaith timeline:

Note that i hc Keith to be a bit older than James, maybe like 3 months.

When they were really young (like, under 9 years old) James and Keith were playmates and were on pretty good terms and decently close. Keith was the shy reserved guy in kindergarten, James was extroverted and charismatic. Fast friends.

Keith’s dad dies when he’s 9ish years old. Keith does a complete 180 mental health wise and pushes everyone, including James, away from him. James, being so young, doesn’t know how to deal with this so, after a pretty long go at attempting to comfort Keith (ex. he would sit by him in daycare and sneak him XL candy bars because Keith had nobody to spend the summer with and because, according to James, “he’s making the whole place miserable”) he eventually resorts to being an asshole to try to get a reaction out of Keith (cue S7 flashbacks where James was… an ass to Keith). His bullying era lasts from middle school to the first year of Garrison cadet training. Then he kinda gets punched out of it lol.

James apologizes for making fun of his parents, I hc its a projection of his own insecurities because thats what ppl said to James since I hc James’ parents as rich and all. Rich, but they don’t gaf abt their son, and view him more as an embarrassment than their child. It’s why he was in some random ass daycare during the summer as a child.

With the help of Shiro, mostly, Keith starts to slowly recover (maybe 14 years old now). A puppy love, crushing situation arises between James and Keith. They never officially date, but it’s pretty clear to anyone paying attention that they’re more than just friends. In the beginning, Keith prob mistook his crush for hatred (hence, the attached image… lol….) but after confiding in Shiro he sorted that out. Secretly holding hands, waiting around corners to pass each other notes, Keith dragging James into possible trouble and James always being the one to get them out (Keith doesn’t care abt being caught but James sure does lol)…

Then Shiro “dies” when Keith is 17. Keith does another 180 in mental health and pushes everyone away again, despite James’ best efforts. He quickly spirals out of control and gets expelled from the Garrison. He leaves without another word to James. James had to find out through the rumour mill that Keith was expelled (he thought Keith just didn’t want to be bothered). Keith then proceeds to be completely untraceable, James prob thinks he’s dead. Keith then does canon Voltron stuff. James is absolutely wrecked by this because 1) the love of his life is possibly dead and 2) he made a promise to Shiro when he was younger that he’d take care of Keith and clearly he has failed.

6 years pass and Keith comes back. They’re both 24-25 ish now (i think?). Cue S7 prolonged eye contact and also the other scenes where James and Keith are together. All his life, Keith was just a bit taller than James. He was always smug abt that. But coming back after 6 years, he finds that now James’ is slightly taller than him.

Throughout these 6 years James has never once gotten over Keith. Neither did Keith, but yk. James is still hurt over the fact that Keith up and disappeared for 6 years, but eventually after many apologies and an actual “I love you” they get back together kiss and are happily ever after 💞

Bruh imagine reuniting with your long lost love after 6 years and then immediately being thrown back into war and nearly dying multiple times id actually lose it

[stagkingswife]

Around the holidays I had the unique joy of meeting up with @windvexer in person while they were visiting my beloved New York City.  Over sushi, dessert, and then just hanging out in their hotel lobby we had a wide ranging conversation about our practices, UPGs, etc.  The conversation eventually drifted to comparing our spirit lead initiations.  Chicken’s story is theirs to share, or not, as they choose. But I’ve been thinking a lot since that conversation about my own initiation and how it parallels another important story in my life. 

When I was 15 I was a dancer and I was good, like competing at a national level.  I was cast as Odette in my ballet school’s adaptation of Swan Lake.  I practiced, and rehearsed, and trained all year long for the role. Then a month before recital weekend my family and I went on a weekend trip to Gettysburg. I also love history, and my dad and I had just read a book about the battle of Gettysburg together, so we clambered all over the battlefield.  I tore a calf muscle doing this.  I saw my usual doctor for injuries and wore a cast for three weeks, walked through rehearsals, took it easy.  Once the cast was off a week before the recital I ramped up slowly, warmed up more than usual, stretched carefully, everything.  But come recital weekend I danced my heart out and left everything on the stage.  3 weeks later I was diagnosed with CRPS in the leg I had injured. What does any of this have to do with my initiation?  Everything, just bare with me. 

My childhood mentor had been initiated by the spirits of her tradition, and she had spoken to me about the effect this had had on her.  I had written an academic paper on initiatory spiritual traditions and the phenomena of initiation sickness.  I knew, long before Oisin ever broached the topic with me, that a spirit lead initiation could wreck your life, that it would be trying in ways that were specifically designed to change you on a fundamental to suit the spirit's needs, and that undertaking one would have consequences I couldn’t even begin to image.  I also knew that dancing Swan Lake one week out of a cast could have disastrous results for my dance career.  But I loved the music and choreography.  I loved how I felt while I was dancing.�� So I danced.  I was already in love with Oisin when he presented me with this trial. I loved learning from him, and working with him, and if there was something hard, even something impossible, that he needed me to do so that I could keep learning and working with him - it was no question. 

I had no way of knowing when I was teenager waiting in the wings in my white leotard and feathered wig that I was about to dance my last ballet.  That in less than a year I would start using a cane, or that I would one day swap the cane for a wheelchair, or any of the changes and accommodations that I’ve had to make in my life for my disability.  I only knew the love. When I said yes to Oisin I couldn’t have predicted how much it would break me when he killed my soul, dismembered it, and scattered the innumerable shreds across the Otherworlds.  I could have imagined the amazing and terrifying things I saw and experienced on my journey to find those fragments and assemble myself - or what it was like to live without a complete soul in the meantime. And nothing could have prepared me for the permanent changes the whole process had wrought on my life: on my physical health, my mental health, the very fact that my spiritual oaths and promises must always come first for me.  I only knew the love. 

17 years after my diagnosis, and 13 after my initiation started, I look back at the choices that led to both and would make them both again, even knowing the consequences.  These two choices, more than almost anything else in my life, have shaped who I am as an adult and I like that person.  These choices came from the right place, both times.  Not from ambition, greed, guilt, or fear, but love.  And I can’t ever regret what I did for love.

[colemillerg]

So let’s talk about my mental health some. I’ll try to give the gist of what I battle with. Have you ever thought about killing yourself? How would you do it? Would you write a suicide note to leave behind? If you’ve never had those intrusive type thoughts maybe you’ve just had thoughts of what it would be like if you died suddenly and unexpectedly? Would people mourn your loss? How would your family go on without you? These questions that a normal person may intrusively experience once or twice in their lifetime are a 24/7/365 intrusive thought occurrence for me. Doctors call it being passively suicidal or suffering from suicidal ideation. Perhaps you don’t really have a clear plan to act on but you think about committing suicide regularly and demonstrate risky behaviors (ex: driving recklessly with no seat belt) that could result in your death. Then there is being actively suicidal. You have a plan. You’ve maybe even researched how you want to carry it out. Perhaps you’ve written suicide notes to leave behind. You begin to give away things or prepare for your death in other ways such as saving money for funeral expenses. I teeter between being passively suicidal (most of the time) and actively suicidal (occasionally). Have I ever attempted suicide before? Absolutely. Multiple times.

One of the first times I ever truly attempted was after my ex fiancé and I got into a heated argument. She threatened to end the relationship and left our apartment. I tried to hang myself while she was gone. She found me and cut me down. The most serious of attempts? When my ex fiancé and I finally did split for good, I was a wreck. I’ll detail the story of she and I in another post but for now just know that we were engaged and she was a narcissistic abuser. She left me and I discovered she had feelings for her ex husband. I was devastated because I felt like I had given my all to make the relationship be the total whirlwind romance it initially was. Maybe a month or so after we split and I moved back into my parents home, I decided to kill myself. I had lost my fiancé, home, friends, her family which was like my own, pets, finances, all of it gone. I wanted to go painlessly and quickly just like anyone would. Hanging myself? Too much of a struggle. I watched dark web videos of people hanging themselves only to slowly suffer in agony when they weren’t killed instantly from the fall. (I did at one time attempt asphyxiating myself the way Robin Williams had. Loop a belt around your neck then close the tail in the top of the door and sit down.) Death by cop? Well that would just make me look like a psychopath, which I’m not. Drowning? Too easy to come back up for air and fight it. Slitting my wrists? Painful and if I didn’t do it just right I might end up in the hospital’s psych ward on an embarrassing involuntary hold. Shooting myself? Seemed the way to go. It’s quick and from research depending on where I aim the barrel, I could be precise in ensuring that I don’t fuck up and live a life as a vegetable. What made this even easier was when my grandpa died in 2019, his pistol became mine. I’d never owned a gun and now I had a .45 caliber revolver at my disposal. I wrote 3 letters. 1 to my mom. 1 to my ex (letting her know I don’t blame her) and 1 to a friend. The 4th note detailed where my mother could locate my body and instructed her to call the police and not to attempt to come to me herself. I didn’t want my mom to see me dead like that. I left the 4 pieces of paper out for her to find them. Packed up a couple of beach towels, trash bags, and my pistol. I chose the location with great purpose. I drove 30 minutes out into the country to a small one lane road called Groce Road. It is at this location I was in a nearly fatal car wreck in high school and I knew how isolated it was. At the end of the road there is a park. It was fall and the leaves were beautiful. I smoked as much marijuana as I could thinking if I was out of my mind, I wouldn’t be so scared to do it. I laid out the towels and trash bags so my brain matter didn’t make a mess of my truck. I pointed the pistol behind my right ear at the base of my skull to ensure the damage down would cease all life function capabilities. As I sat there, I noticed how beautiful the fall leaves were and I thought about how my actions were going to hurt those that loved me. If you’re going to kill yourself, thinking can really fuck up the process. I decided in my state of delirium that I would rather suffer with the feelings I was feeling than to make those I wrote letters to suffer my loss (ex fiancé included). I drove home and hid all the evidence of my attempt and nobody ever knew the difference. Do I regret not following through? Every day. Do I also think I made the right decision? When I see my mother or help someone at work, yes.

Suicidal ideation, severe depression, PTSD, and anxiety are my diagnoses. I started this blog because right now I am leaning more towards being actively suicidal than passively suicidal. I guess this is my way of both documenting my struggle should I commit to killing myself and me reaching out for help from others who may sympathize with what I’m going through.

[rae-100]

My Ed story!

Prior to 6th grade, I knew what an0rexia was, but never considered starving myself.

6th grade:

My two best friends began avoiding me and not including me because I was "too fat." They would call me a "fat wench," and run away from me. This spread to half my grade, and I was well known for being hated. I wanted to do something about my weight, but I was 90lbs at 5'1 and there wasn't much for me to lose.

7th-8th grade:

I didn't eat a single lunch during either of these grades. I worked out a lot by doing Just Dance and going on long bike rides. I also began refusing breakfast, and did omad without knowing it was a thing. I grew to be 5'5 at barely 100lbs. My thigh gap got me extra bullying, and people would call me "bones." I was happy with it though, I was always the skinniest girl. Then covid hit, and everything was ruined. My parents made me eat, and I gained 30lbs. I have severe stretch marks that are still purple from this, and it seriously deteriorated my mental health.

9th-10th grade:

Once school started back up, I immediately fell back into old habits. I never ate breakfast or lunch and frequently exercised. Until my Ed was reported to the school by an anonymous person. It absolutely wrecked my life. The counselor kept calling me into her office, my parents were required to put me through therapy/recovery, and I gained everything back.

11th grade:

I struggled hard to keep eating and stay in recovery, but sometimes I quite literally would forget to eat. I also did dance, and would workout extremely hard. I could barely eat enough calories, and found myself exhausted.

12th grade (present):

I officially relapsed hard. This is my third relapse and my second hard relapse. I've dropped 9lbs within this past week, and am done with recovery. I just can't do it, and am trying to get back down to my weight prior to covid. I know I'll get there.

[echoesagain]

#8

Don’t often include trigger warnings but this includes (mild) self-harm and mental health shit. You’ve been warned

Probably going to be a long one this time. It’s been a while since the last one (at least it’s felt like ages), doesn’t affect much anyway. Uni exams all done, my time is coming to an end for first year. Back home, smiles, drinks and making more drunk mistakes- what more could a 19 year old physics student want?

So, a lot of shit has happened, as you’d expect. I got a very interesting book called Radio Silence by Alice Oseman and holy fuck, did it wreck me. For context, the only other Oseman content I had read before this was Heartstopper (web-comic then netflix show) and I thought it was alright, loved the art style. But, wow, she writes incredibly. I haven’t cried in over a decade and that book made me have to hold back full on sobs. I had to put it down several times to curl up into a ball and try and block out the avalanche of noise, the tirade of life bearing down on me. I am convinced I had some kind of mental episode as I ended up balling up a fist and pounding it into my desk again and again until the feeling of air on my knuckles caused me to wince, the mere idea of twitching a finger caused me agony.

Quick break- I am not mentally ill. I have never exhibited any mental symptoms before this nor since. I can’t explain why or justify myself, I just felt the urge to let it all out while reading it. In that sense, Radio Silence was one of the most cathartic books I’ve ever read. I promptly bought Solitaire and Loveless and read them in similar “all-at-once” fashions but without the whole going completely fucking insane. Reading this all back, I seem like a troll or an attention-seeker. I promise, I am only the latter, my previous posts are more than enough evidence of that. The worst part is, I don’t know exactly what about Radio Silence caused it to happen. I don’t relate to any of the characters that much (no more than other fictitious characters) and the plot has no resemblance of my life or experiences other than I’m a first year uni student.

It scared me. I scared me. It was such a rush of emotions from nothing and, believe me, I have reread that book three times in as many days (and yes, I got it three days ago). I have had similar reactions each time but I managed to avoid pulping my fist on each re-read. I have found no particular character, plot development or even sentence that had any cause to distress me so. All I know is, that book causes me to slowly build tension in my body until it all comes out and ruins me. I didn’t sleep at all yesterday and I’m writing this at 1:05 am at the uni football pitches working on around 40 hours since I last slept.

For christs sake, I relate to Georgia Warr more than Aled, Frances or Daniel yet for some fucking reason, I can’t let it go. Yeah, apologies that this blog became a kind of fucked up book review/ rant. For what it’s worth, the book is incredible and I cannot describe my experience as negative, only very confusing but very, very interesting. 9/10 because I cannot justify self harm.

Now, I’m forced to question my mental health. I’m hoping it was just a one-off, freak accident caused by decades of bottling up my emotions (#toxicmasculinityftw) but I can’t call myself a self- respecting physicist and write something off as a “random error”, especially when that something is as big as this. Maybe I do relate to Frances or Aled or Daniel more than I thought I did and I just didn’t realise it. Maybe I just got so immersed in the writing style that I just felt so empathetic towards the characters (especially Aled) that I couldn’t help it? Honestly, who knows and, frankly, speculation on a bench at 1:13 am will get me no where. I passed several parties of people on my way here, all presumably celebrating exams end and I couldn’t help but wonder if I envied them or if I’d sooner shoot myself than be in such an environment. Maybe it’s all to do with company.

Sorry, getting too speculative again. All I know is, I need to read Radio Silence again, Alice Oseman is a phenomenal writer and their writing style is just so relatable (maybe that’s how 50’s kids felt when they read Catcher in the Rye? Idk, I enjoyed it but the writing was “so phony” and it “killed me”). Regardless, more research is needed, I’ve never felt more confused (and that’s coming from someone who still isn’t sure of their sexuality) and I need some chips. Until next time!

[kypossumlady]

My goal this year is to stop demeaning myself for literally everything lol. I want to stop apologizing for being sensitive and having giant feelings. I want to stop apologizing for needing extra help sometimes. I want to get help from medical professionals without anxiously canceling every single time. I think I’m doing a good job so far. Quitting my job was a good thing for my mental health, and I’m sticking by that.

Girl crush has burnt out so fast. She got so weird, and it just aided in Tony and I feeling like she’s a giant ass red flag.

Quitting my birth control was like a 50/50 decision. On one hand the side effects that wrecked my body are gone. On the other hand, my period comes full speed and my moods are real fucking insane. I was thinking today that maybe the autism was kept semi-hidden because of (extreme masking) the hormones. Idk if that even makes sense but, still.

I don’t like talking about my autism because I feel like it makes people perceive me as attention seeking. That’s weird right? But talking about it has helped me realize so much about myself. The breakdowns I had as a kid where I would lose my absolute mind and my parents didn’t know what to do so they yelled back. (I don’t feel anything negative towards them about it. They are on the spectrum too. ) Preferring to be by myself when I played. Rocking all the time lmao. It’s so funny to think. My parents used to see me rocking in the car and they’d say “she’s just bopping”. I love/hate the fact that they didn’t know I was autistic and just thought I was quirky.

My goal this year is to move more and be outside more. My body is having a really hard time with chronic pain and I’m trying to combat it. Soft movements and stretches, resting, hydrating, listening to my body, and meds of course. Hopefully I can get my medical card for weed and it can help some too. I really don’t want to be on pain pills. I’ve not gone to the doctor for the pain I’ve felt forever because I’m scared I’ll be seen as a drug seeker. Which is silly but that’s my brain.

People tell me a lot that I’d be a good mom. And I think that’s kinda true. But the reason I don’t want kids (besides the responsibility part?) is I struggled my whole life with having giant feelings and not knowing what to do with them. They physically made me sick and made me ache. I know itd be different because I could help the kid but it seems too much. It’s just not for me.

I want to talk about the wedding more than I am. I need to get out of my head that I’m this giant burden when I’m not even talking that much.

A funny thing about my brain that I find hard to articulate is how edibles really level me out and make me functional. Sometimes it makes me chill. But I slept until 8 today, got up and chored, went back to sleep at 10, got up at 2 and went for a hike/walk, ate some lunch, napped again from 4-7, and did the barn chores. Then I ate 500mg of edibles- did a little laundry, gathered trash, vacuumed, did litterboxes, swept upstairs, and did some self care all within 2 hours. Some days I take 100mg and can function like a soccer mom on a school night, but some days like recently, it takes more just to mellow me out to function.

I want to find a way to document how my brain sounds and I have some of it saved on TikTok. Some days it’s like a crowd of people all talking at once, and while they’re talking, you hear at different times more prominent things. And during those talkings, a song is playing and it’s somehow loud. It sounds like word vomit but that’s a good way of explaining it.

[obaewankenope]

I remember in college (16-18yrs old) my ancient history professor put my name in for the AQA Extended Project Qualification without asking me and told me about it afterwards. I was 17, clearly Gifted from the outset, and she pegged me as the student in her class who'd do the work for it because she Expected It Of Me.

The thing is, she didn't mean any of it cruelly or meanly. She genuinely thought it was a good thing, that I'd enjoy it, and that it would be a good challenge for me when I was clearly more than capable of completing the coursework and classwork she set with ease.

And she wasn't wrong. But she didn't ask me and I ended up having to spend several months working on this thing around existing classes, home life being a mess, my own mental health being a wreck, and not one teacher realised I had any problems at all.

I had to fill out a journal regularly of Community Work I did like packing bags and stuff to show "community mindset", research my chosen subject, create draft proposals for it, speak to tutors outside of class time to hash it out, attend extra classes on civics and stuff for the qualification and so much more it was unreal.

I had to write a 5k paper on my subject topic, deliver a presentation, proposal, display board for the examiners to look at and ask me questions about which I had to answer and not feck up at the time.

As well as keep my grades up.

And the worst thing. Thee worst thing. It was easy.

It was easy because I could focus on that rather than my mental health, than my home life, than my relationship issues, than all those other things I should have been working on but didn't have the time because I didn't want to disappoint my tutor who signed me up for this whole thing without asking me because she believed in me.

And I aced the thing. I genuinely did.

I aced my classes, except sciences because well something had to give and definitions of things were what I kicked out of my head at the time (I no longer can tell you how to calculate speed and velocity correctly rip).

I was the gifted kid from childhood who was compared to her struggling brother with his adhd and his learning difficulties and behavioural problems, who was well behaved and polite and smart and not a problem in the classroom ever (except when I chose to be).

And that bullshit dragged with me into university where, honestly, I burned myself up. I established a routine sure, but the first week of uni I had a full on emotional breakdown bc I locked myself out of my room and my drunk flatmates all consoled me because everything, and I mean everything, just came down on me at that moment.

I picked myself back up, went to classes and passed everything. Even stats. Though not really because honestly I just didn't get what the tutor was saying and she didn't explain once.

(And I felt so ashamed of that stats class result, it was hilarious. Especially when I had to redo it in the summer which was just horrid for this Gifted Kid to suddenly be struggling).

I have two degrees, an undergraduates and a masters, I have 5 a-levels and 2 as levels. I have all the gcses my school offered that I took and didn't fail any of them.

I am smart. But I struggled so much in university. Not for taking notes, I used my laptop and relied on the tutors power points to add info to, but with everything else because I hadn't been given support where I needed it.

I am superficial and charming on the surface because I have spent a lifetime masking all my problems and troubles and being the good student who doesn't cause trouble even when they want to just get up and scream. The depths of me are seen more online than in person because y'all don't expect me to be charming and to smile and to express social cues I had to consciously learn on my own because not one adult thought I needed help there.

This is the curse of being a gifted kid.

Especially one who gets diagnosed at 28 with adhd who could have done so much more at 22 on adhd medication because things would have been easier. Help would have been available.

Because when you're just Autistic. When you have Aspergers. When you're High Functioning. You're just Smart And Awkward and written off as fine.

I suffered so much for no reason other than a flawed system that overworks its employees, doesn't fund the things it should fund enough, and leaves kids like me, who show accelerated growth in quantifiable areas of statistical measurement but who need help with other areas, to suffer alone.

There's a reason so many Gifted kids end up diagnosed as neurodivergent. It's because we're smart in one way that means everything else about us is ignored.

The Problem Kids I saw in high school (11-16) were some of the smartest kids I've ever met. But because they struggled with maths, with spelling, with reading, and other things, they got ignored, or babied, or told off when they got bored and grew tired of being ignored and not praised like the Gifted Kids at least got.

One of those kids, Tom, he genuinely was so smart. He wrote a whole ass English paper the day before it was due and he got an amazing mark because he had actually listened to me explaining stuff next to him in class, even when he fucked around throwing erasers about, or doodling, and I went through things in a way he understood because that helped me too.

Like.

He's Gifted. He's smart. But he got called a Problem Kid because of disruptive behaviour. Because he drew attention to himself, good or bad, because he didn't want to be ignored and because the subject didn't Interest Him.

I learned a lot in school because I loved learning. That's why I did well. I loved to just soak up knowledge. I still do. The fact that the knowledge I enjoyed learning was information relevant to standardised tests is the only, The Only, reason I got labelled as Gifted and not Problem or Ignorant.

My mother is smart. She loves horses. She Loves To Learn About Horses. Always has. School for her was a story of Not Trying, Not Paying Attention, Not Able To Understand. Because it didn't Interest her. It didn't engage.

But she's Gifted too.

She's forgotten more about horses than I'll ever know. And I know a lot.

Intelligence isn't just MENSA tests and pattern recognition and that bs used to evaluate how smart someone is in a psychological assessment.

Intelligence, true intelligence, is being able to share what you know with others in a way they can understand. That's true intelligence.

And I know a lot of Gifted Kids, Problem Kids, Ignorant Kids, Daydreamers, and Drop-Outs who are intelligent because of that fact alone.

So fuck the lack of support for gifted kids and other kids. Fuck the idea that kids can be categorised as smart and not smart. Fuck the mentality that if you're not good at your countries language and maths that you're "stupid". Fuck it all.

We're all fucking geniuses and I won't have anyone tell y'all different.

And we support each other as a result. Got that.

[thatesqcrush]

The Auction, Pt. 2

Bryan Kneef x Reader. CW: discussion of sex work, "being bidded on/purchased" touching of reader - but its consensual, vaginal fingering, language. WC: 2K.

You met with the brains of the organization for a long time. Her name was Cordelia and according to her, you were “a perfect candidate” as she eyed you up and down.

“How does this work? Is this safe? ” You asked, crossing your arms and narrowing your eyes. “How much of a cut do I get? And don't bullshit me.”

“Ah, I’ve always appreciated a woman who gets down to brass tacks.” Cordelia replied. “The cut is 50/50, off the books. We’ll screen your sexual health, of course. While those results are pending, we’ll vet you - make sure you’re of sanity and have no criminal background. This is all done behind closed doors - no one in your immediate life would be the wiser. If that’s all clear, we will arrange the date for the auction. In the meantime, we like to invest in our ladies once they’re cleared - meaning we’ll make arrangements for hair, makeup, clothes, and the like.”

You swallowed hard. “I can assure you, I’m clean. I haven’t had many partners prior.”

Cordelia nodded. “Well, then we have nothing to worry about.”

**

Your test results came and you received a clean bill of health. The next step was to be primped and polished. Naturally you were middle of the road - some days you could be really girly and other days, not. You weren’t tethered to any one style. But it had been awhile since you were ever able to relax, so when you were sent to a spa for a day of treatment, you jumped at the chance.

After, it was onto shopping.

You felt like Vivian from Pretty Woman as salespersons brought you dress after dress while you got your hair and makeup done. The request from Cordelia was ‘sexy, not slutty.’

You settled on a red hot mini dress with a v-neckline and center ruching for added dimension. Finishing the look was a pair of simple heels that showed off your toned gams and a pair of jeweled hoop earrings. You hardly recognized yourself in your reflection in the floor to ceiling mirror in the store. ‘This is one night; you’re playing a role.’ You told yourself. You figured if you repeated it enough times, you’d believe it.

An unmarked car came to collect you once you were done, driving you straight to the location where the auction was taking place.

You knew there would be other women there from Bonnie. What you didn’t realize was that you’d be going very last. Your nerves were starting to fry and your stomach was twisted in knots. You sipped water through a straw so as to not ruin your lipstick. Finally, there was a rap on the door and Cordelia poked her head in.

“Darling, it’s your time to shine. Now go earn your worth.”

**

You could hear raucous laughter, cheering and applause from behind where you stood. The music pounded and you could feel it in your bones.

Finally, the door opened - it was pitch black on the other side, save a spotlight. You said a quick prayer, even though you weren’t very religious as you stepped into the light.

Once there, the light adjusted to a more dim version and you were able to focus your vision on the crowd before you. Music played quietly in the background before a woman began to speak - someone who sounded very much like Cordelia.

What she says next and what is said after, is all blur. Bids begin to roll in and it’s in that moment you realized you were nothing more than a hooker, using your body as a means to an end. Humiliation flowed through you - you didn’t feel like you - you didn’t feel as good as you thought. Instead your worth was measured in bank rolls.

You scanned the room, men of all shapes, sizes, colors and creeds were there, waving their black AmEx cards like they were charging a steak dinner. And that’s how you felt - you were a lamb being slaughtered.

The gavel banged and you heard Cordelia exclaim, “Sold! To Mr. Bryan Kneef for two-hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”

You whipped your head at Cordelia. Had you heard her correctly? Two-hundred and fifty thousand dollars? The fact that you got to keep half made your head spin.

“And that concludes tonight’s auction. Winners may come to collect their prizes in the back.”

Cordelia wrapped her arm around your waist and began to whisk you away when you heard someone thank ‘Mr. Kneef for his payment.’ You turned to see who he was and in the dimmed light you saw it was ‘Mr. Mysterious.’

And you damn near passed out.

**

You sat in the room you were originally in. There was one security camera in place and Cordelia advised that winners liked to meet first before any further advances were to come.

Your leg bounced as you drank your water again. You felt as if you were there for hours but realistically it was mere moments.

The door opened and Mr. Mysteri—Kneef walked in. You smiled nervously at him and extended your arm. “Hi. Bryan, right?”

Bryan didn’t reply. Instead he gave you an intense, smoldering look. His cologne wafted over you, warm and woodsy causing your skin to goosebump.

You brought your arm back and clutched your hands behind your back. Bryan took another step towards you, as if he were trying to get a closer look at his purchase.

“Take off your clothes.” Bryan requested quietly. You opened your mouth to say something but the look in response along with a perfectly arched brow caused you to snap your mouth shut. “I want to see what I bought.”

You reached around, undoing the zipper - thankful it was along the side and not along your back.

You slid the dress off, strap by strap. You hadn’t worn a bra - just a nude thong which wasn’t even fancy - simple and basic, meant more for avoiding lines than anything else. The dress pooled at your feet and you stepped out of it. You moved to kick off your heels when Bryan interrupted you.

“Leave them on.”

You nodded and stood up, anxiously awaiting the next move.

Bryan removed his jacket and folded it neatly, hanging it over a chair. He began to roll up the sleeves of his dress shirt, showing off his muscular forearms with thick, meaty veins.

You looked up and saw the small security camera and realized this private show wasn’t so private. The sound of a finger snap brought you back to the present and you whipped your head towards Bryan. Your heart began to race and you wondered if you should just bolt. You tried to mentally measure the distance between you and the door.

Bryan approached you. His gaze softened, as if he were sorry for what he was about to say. “I’m going to touch you now. At any point if you want me to stop, I will. Consent is very important to me.”

“It is to me too.” You replied, meeting his gaze. After a beat, you continued. “You can touch me.”

His warm touch began rather innocently, along your arm up to along your shoulder. As he walked around you, he kept touching and feeling. His hand got to your ass and he let out a deep rumble as he squeezed the fat of your flesh.

Bryan walked around you. When he came around to the front of you, he cupped one breast with his hand, feeling the weight against his palm. You did your best to remain stoic, ignoring the bolt of pleasure that had shot down to your core. That changed when he firmly twisted your nipple, as you let out a moan as he did so. That earned another arched brow from him, as if taking mental notes.

He rounded you again, and you felt him close the small gap that remained. You felt his cock, hard, pressed against the small of your back. His fingers gently traced your arm and then brought it up, so it was around his neck. He ran his hand back down along your side, and you trembled under his touch. You were certain your heart was beating outside of your chest. When he got to the side of your ribs, he splayed out his hand, so his palm was against you. Slowly, his hand made way down to the apex of your legs.

“Open.” He rumbled in your ear quietly and you followed his instructions. Your breath hitched as his hand cupped your mound. Bryan’s fingers then moved to stroke you softly, teasing your clit and then moving back to stroke your folds. Your pussy grew wet, your breath became more labored as he continued his ministrations. You bit your bottom lip as he slowly but surely worked you to orgasm. Just when you thought you weren’t going to be able to take anymore, Bryan sunk a thick finger inside your soaked pussy. Your pussy clenched around his finger tightly and you let out a wrecked moan in response.

“You’re so wet and we haven’t even started.” Bryan murmured. His beard against your cheek added another layer of sensation. There was no resistance when Bryan sunk another thick finger and began to pump them in and out of you. The sound of wet filled the room and your legs felt wobbly as you gripped around Bryan’s neck harder. Your other hand found his free hand and you brought it up to your breast, encouraging him.

“I’m so close.” You panted. “Oh fuck!”

“Come for me like a good girl.” Bryan growled as he rubbed your clit with the fat pad of his thumb. He used his other hand to pinch your nipple again and you arched against him, coming so hard that you drew his fingers further in.

“That’s it, that’s it.” Bryan praised. “Oh sweetheart we’re going to have so much fun.” He slid his fingers out of you and you whimpered at the loss.

Bryan spun you around to face him. You were a mess as you watched him admire his wet fingers in the light. Bryan brought them to you and you took his fingers into your mouth, cleaning them of your juices and then imitating as to what you could do with your mouth.

Bryan gave you a salacious smile as he withdrew his fingers. He traced them along your cheek, leaving a wet trail to your mouth where he rubbed your bottom lip.

“I definitely got my money’s worth with you.” Bryan replied. “Go home, get some sleep. I’ll have arrangements made so we can have even more fun.”

You watched as he walked away, grabbing his suit jacket and exiting without so much as a second glance. You stayed frozen in place for another five minutes or so, until you realized you could redress and go home.

The car ride home left you with more questions than answers and more horny than ever. Your battery operated boyfriend ran through its battery as you replayed the evening over and over as you were too wired to sleep from the earlier events.

Eventually you did, with Bryan’s name still on your lips.

TBC.

Tags: @mgarner1227 @madpanda75 @tropes-and-tales @beccabarba @dreamlover31 @dreamlover31 @prurientpuddlejumper @sass-and-suspenders @youreverycolor @neely1177 @witches-unruly-heart @mrsrafaelbarba @skittle479 @greeneyedblondie44 @mommakat32 @teamsladsandgents @detective-giggles @garturbo @zoeykaytesmom @ottosuricato @zoeykaytesmom @bananas-pajamas @law-nerd105

@storiesofsvu @pieceofshittytitty @i-justreally-like-cats-okay @whatisthislife28 @jazzyjoi @rampantmuses @rachelxwayne @qvid-pro-qvo @madamsnape921 @averyhotchner @alwaysachorusgirl @amelia-song-pond @tintinxtintin @wanniiieeee @blueberryt @crowfootwrites @emandems10 @berniesilvas @whoamelinda @its-just-me-chey @resparza @chunex @chasingeverybreakingwave @itsjustmyfantasyroom @bisexual-dreamer02

[bullyhunter--69]

"She's so sweet, really."

Pairing: Izuku x fem!reader

Summary: When you and Izuku started dating, you were as happy as could be. He was beyond sweet and caring, and helped you forget about the bad in your life. But after he introduces you to his mother, Inko, and you start to be a more frequent visitor at the Midoriya household, you realize it's starting to take a bigger affect on you than you thought it would. Why can't your mother be like that?

Tw: mentions of family issues/absent family/family death, bottling up emotions and eventually breaking, a stressed Izuku, ends with soft fluff

A/N: This turned out so much longer and more angsty than planned but I'm really proud of it, tell me what you guys think! 🖤 (This is also my first ever angst written so--)

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

Today was a beautiful fall day. Colorful leaves fell around you, the sky was tinged with a deep orange, and the soft grass beneath you made your time all the more comfy. You were snuggled next to Izuku beneath a huge tree on campus, who was currently going on and on about his latest quirk findings. The goal you guys originally had set was to review for the upcoming test, but the topic quickly shifted to Izukus day once your fingers intertwined with his and you inquired about it.

"-and so then once I asked Mr. Aizawa about it I found that- Hey.. are you okay (Y/N)?" You really were listening, but had found that you zoned out. Izukus concerned, soft voice brought you back to reality, and a small smile crawled it's way onto your features. "Yeah 'zuku, I'm all good.. I just was thinking about some stuff and was focusing on your voice. It always helps." You ended your reply with a squeeze of his hand, which all together resulted in his face blooming into a shade of deep red.

"Well, uh.. T-thank you, I'm happy to help!" He stuttered out as he felt butterflies all throughout his body. "Oh, also!" Izuku started, turning his body to face you more, holding your hands in his lap with a nervous look in his eyes. "(Y/N), I was wondering.. we've been together for a bit now and I.. I want my mom to meet you."

As soon as the word 'mom' reached your ears, you tensed up. It was always a sensitive topic, even if it wasn't your parental relationships in question. You knew Izuku had noticed, as the hold on your hands got tighter. "I understand if you're scared or nervous but I know She's gonna love you! She already says you're really pretty and smart just basing off what I've shown her.. she really is looking forward to it, and we don't have to stay long if you don't want to." The gentle rub of his thumb on the back of your hand and the puppy dog eyes was enough to soothe your nerves. If Izuku talked so highly of you to her, and if she was anything like him at all, you figured it wouldn't be that bad to meet her. She would be your mother-in-law someday, so you might as well get it out of the way now and not later.

When the day finally came, you were beyond nervous. The thought of meeting Izuku's mother and her not liking you made a wave of sickness and dread fill every inch of your body. Whether it was a friend, or a boyfriend, meeting mothers always gave you a bad taste in your mouth. It brought back all the feelings that you tried desperately to hide away and fight daily.

See, you were almost fully open with Izuku, but there was one thing he didn't know. Your family, to put it bluntly, was shit. Your mother always belittled you for every single little action you ever made and everything about you. Nothing was ever good enough. As a small child, it was always under-the-table, backhanded compliments with passive aggressive undertones, but after the passing of your father, it turned into raw, brutal words. She was never proud, and never actually loved you, she just used your desire to be a good daughter against you. It was cold, hard, manipulative behavior which resulted in you finally refusing to talk to her after you got accepted into U.A. The mental gymnastics you had to go through to hide all of this, especially from Izuku, was taking a toll on you. You never talked of family and never left the dorms, and had an.. unusual amount of luggage stored away in your room. It seemed like you packed your entire life up in a suitcase and ran.

Which is essentially what you did.

As bad as it sounds, you never planned on telling your love any of this. You just needed to forget all of the childhood trauma you were put through and focus on showing your mother she was wrong. Everything she said about your quirk being useless, to you being intolerable and a bad daughter, would be proved wrong. But, the biggest thing you planned to show her? Is that your father would be proud. She always used him against you, and you'd be damned if you wouldn't prove that point the most ridiculous of them all.

A soft knocking on your dorm brought you out of your deep thoughts, and your gaze slid to the door. Your hands shot to your face and you quickly dried your tears. "O-one second, I'm still changing!" You knew in the pit of your gut that it was Izuku coming to pick you up, and your thoughts were confirmed when you heard him on the other side of your locked door. "Alrighty baby, take your time!" God, he sounded so sweet.. this was hell keeping from him, but it kept him from worrying.

The night went on so much better than expected, and it genuinely surprised you. You had never met a woman as sweet as Inko was. She cooked your favorite food and had your favorite drinks, and even baked you your favorite dessert. She asked about how you were doing in school and once the topic of your quirk was brought up, she was beyond ecstatic to hear you talk about it. She even added on how she felt it would be useful in battle. The night was amazing. Nothing felt real, it all was like the fantasies you made up while lying in bed at 4am sobbing, so sleep deprived you almost can't move to get ready for your class that starts in just a few hours. It's what you've always wanted in a mom-- a beautiful, sweet woman who cares.

Why can't your mother be like that?

As the weeks went on and Izuku kept inviting you over for weekly dinner and game nights with him and Inko, you found it harder and harder to conceal exactly how much your mental health was struggling. Yes, you absolutely adored both your loving boyfriend and his equally loving mother, but it was just so fucking.. hard. Every smile she gave you, the loving, motherly twinkle in her eyes when she talked to Izuku, the amazing dinners, the endless support for both of you, the pictures she insisted on taking of you and Izuku-- it was all too much. You started to dwell on this every single night, and resent yourself for how much anger and jealousy you felt. This wasn't right, but you couldn't help it. It wasn't your fault that your mother hated you for every fiber of your being and Izuku had the best mother imaginable. He was your boyfriend, you should be happy.. right?

You didn't realize how hard you had been sobbing until there was a hushed yet firm knock on your dorm door. The tears that blurred your vision made it even harder to read the clock on your nightstand through the pitch black room you sat in, huddle up in a pile of blankets, All Might plushies and Izuku's hoodies.

9:54 p.m.

The pain that was radiating through your torso from the wreck you had become from however long you had actually been crying was torture. It felt like needles were being shoved into your lungs and your heart was being squeezed in a vice grip. Breathing felt impossible. Your throat was raw. But the thing that hurt the absolute worst, out of everything?

"(Y/N)? Baby, please let me in.." Little Izuku's voice sounded like the biggest bomb going off, the jiggle of your door knob making emergency alarms go off in your head. There wasn't any possible way to get out of this, and this might just be your biggest fear. Facing those soft emerald eyes and that sweet smile that has been open and honest with you over the entirety of your entire relationship, and even before. Telling the love of your life all the trauma you've endured, and then willingly decided to hide from him. No.. it's the disappointment that you're positive will shine through his features that's truly your biggest fear.

You don't know how long he had been listening, but one second was more than enough for you to know Izuku wasn't going to leave. He loved you endlessly and never left without making sure you had a smile on your face. So, with limbs that felt like cement, eyes that felt as if you were crying spikes, and an aching heart, you got up and made your way to unlock the door. It took a minute-- your hold on the cold knob firm and extremely hesitant.

3... 2.. 1.

Finally, Izuku had enough room to gently push your door open, and his breath was taken away when he saw you as the golden light from the dormitory hallway illuminated your entirely wrecked appearance.

Bloodshot eyes, make up filled tears streaming down both checks, snot dripping down to you mouth. The cuffs of his hoodie that covered your shaking body were soaked in black, wet mascara. Your hair was messy and tangled. You were.. broken.

After taking in every little detail of your appearance, a struggled gasp last your body when his arms were suddenly around you. The touch of his warmth around you was electrifying, and instantly brought you to your knees. As Izuku shut and locked the door behind him, still holding you in his strong arms, he sighed softly. "What's wrong?"

These are some of the only words that you really didn't want to come out of his mouth. They stung and tore through your heart like the sharpest of blades. They made you regret not opening up sooner, his tone overflowing with worry, fear, and dread. You knew not to make eye contact, but you couldn't even if you wanted to. Once those words entered your ears, soft and delicate as if you would shatter into a million pieces if he spoke too hard, another strangled sob was unleashed out of what felt to be your core.

"S-she's just so sweet.." Your voice, although strained and crackling, came out with an emotion Izuku had never heard from you before. A mixture of jealousy, rage, disappointment, and disgust is all he could pick out, but it sounded like something was hidden beneath it all. Something that you didn't know how to express, so emotions just came seeping out of you in the easiest way.

Picking you up was an easy task, as your body had long ago given up the fight to stay standing. The sweet boy made his way to your bed and sat with you cradled to his chest, your nose tucking away in the crook of his neck instantly to breath in his scent. It calmed you-- he calmed you, but you couldn't help but to shamefully pull your head away and look across the room.

"(Y/N), you have to tell me more. Who is 'she'? I want to help you.." His voice still held a delicate tone, his fingers combing through your hair with one hand and the other still holding you tightly. After what seemed like forever of Izuku just holding you and letting you cry every single ounce of emotion you held in your body out, your sobs slowly came to a stop and you took a soft, shaking sigh.

It was time to come clean.

"'Z-zuku, I'm sorry.." You started, slowly and steadily while trying to steady your breath further. The gentle back rubs from his warm hands helped sooth you, and gave you the strength to continue.

"I haven't been exactly.. truthful with you." As you took a second to find your words and sniffle, you could sense Izuku tilt his head to the side curiously. "You always ask if I'm okay-- if I'm happy-- and I always say that I am. I love you so incredibly much and you do make me feel happy and safe and welcomed and-" Your ramble was cut off with a kiss to your temple, which was a silent signal of Izukus trust and time.

"Because of how incredibly happy you make me, I dont want you thinking that this is your fault at all. Its mine.. I shut you out and bottled myself up when I should have just told you in the first place. I just.. don't know how to say it other than to say it outright."

Your shakey tone made Izukus heart race even more. He was staying calm and supportive on the outside but on the inside, he was a wreck. He was currently going over every single one of his actions, words, and notes that made what you and him were-- absolutely scraping the bottom of the barrel for anything and everything he could have done wrong. That stuff, though, was shoved deep so he could help you, because that was what was important right now.

"I don't.. Izuku, I love you and I love your mother so incredibly much. I feel at home with you guys but it's just so hard. Seeing how sweet and caring she is, how She's invested in both of our lives, how she.. s-she said she loved me.." You body was quickly starting to shake again, so Izuku pulled you in closer. "Why can't my mother be like that?"

There it was. It finally clicked in Izuku's mind. Everytime you avoided the topic of family, how you never had pictures with them, how you never had a place to go to during break, how every day after spending time with him and Inko you seemed drained the next morning as if you had stayed up all night.. it clicked as to what might be wrong, and his suspicions were confirmed when you continued.

"M-my mother hates me and she has my entire life. I have never received an ounce of love or respect from that filthy woman and it's always on my mind. Her degradation and her mocking laugh and her hideous presence. She used my dead fucking dad against me to make me feel like I'd never make it in this world and I just-- I-I want to escape the horrible memories but I can't. I just want a mother like yours.. it's what I've always wanted and I don't understand why I had to be the one stuck with a dead dad and a mockery of a mother. Seeing how absolutely amazing your mom is fills me with love and happiness and a sense of home I've never gotten before but at the end of the day, it just reminds me of how shitty my life was up until I got to U.A. I don't have a mom. I don't have a home. And its not fair that I'm upset over the fact that you having those things happens to remind me of that. I'm sorry."

Izuku was speechless. His comforting ministrations had stopped and he just looked at you. Even with the pitch black void that was your room, his emerald eyes shined bright.. and brimmed with tears.

"I.. I had no idea, baby, I'm so sorry.." Izuku was choosing his words incredibly carefully. He held nothing against you, nor was he upset or disappointed at you. He was a person that could put himself in someone else's shoes very easily and see through their eyes, and your emotional monologue was enough to paint your story for him. He just wanted to comfort you and show you everything was okay.

"I don't want you to be sorry, there isn't any need for you to be. You can't help what your mother put you through, and how horribly unfair to you that it was. Nobody can control how others actions affect them-- it's just how humans are.." Strong arms turned your body to face him, your limbs wrapped around his torso and your cheeks gently held in his hands. As tears streamed down his cheeks, he stared deep into your eyes. "You're so strong and beautiful, and I understand as much as I can. I love you so much.. Baby, to hell with her. I know it's hard, but she doesn't have to mean anything to you anymore. Me and you, and mom, can be our own family. We're your home now.."

A sob managed to choke it's way out of your throat, but this one was different. Your head fell into Izukus neck and you held him as tight as you possibly could, soaking his chest with more snot and tears. His arms held you back just as tightly as he peppered soft butterfly kisses along your hairline. This is how you stayed for the rest of the night until you calmed down and passed out on his firm build. Laying back softly, Izuku tucked you both in and kept his tight hold on you.

"Goodnight, love.. You're home."

[stewy]

Excerpts from Yoko's 'Revolution Chaos' tape (4 June 1968)

This is mostly for my own organization, but I thought people might find it interesting. I can't find the actual tape (I think it was removed from YT because I once heard it there), but here is the full transcript. They couldn't actually hear her, btw. She seemed to be on the back of the studio with a tape recorder on, while they were recording Revolution 1. Trigger warning for psychoanalyzing John Lennon's handwriting!

Andy Warhol and Mario Meyer shot today in New York, I’m so glad that I wasn’t there. Because I would like to be there if I were in New York, oh, but that’s something that I should tell John, it’s so funny Mario used to, because he’s a f*g, I guess I don’t know what it is, but anyway he was very, I think he’s a real f*g, as much as he could as a f*g, I think terribly interested in me and all that so what he does is he would just sort of like touch me on the neck or like on my back or something like that or sort of scratch my arm or something like that when I’m talking to somebody.

***

John: Can you think of anything else?

Paul: No. Just. . .

J: Oh yeah, that’s the end.

P: Yeah, just organ and drums.

J: Should we just tape this?

Y: I wish John was in me right now, inside of me. [...] So, I was just thinking about it. It’s so important that you come inside me, instead of coming in my head or something. You see, and then you say that there’s no difference, but if you understand the difference of that, that’s when you would really start to understand what it means to love somebody it sort of occurred to me that . . . and the other thing is sex, in other words, like just physical sex senses, that the sensual things, but this bed is like all life reaching, reaching each other and giving something. And the fact that you gave me your sperm, I don’t know, probably. At some time of your life you had a situation where you became scared of a straight relationship, of giving to each other and instead of giving to women, you’d rather spit on the sky or shoot it to the sky kind of thing. I mean you said it, that’s like a strange kind of nihilism of kind of a “fuck you all” kind of thing. It’s avoiding, avoiding something. Avoiding communication. It’s like you don’t want to.

***

[...] Nothing that I notice today that I really feel proud of, is that for instance, your handwriting, it’s always been like, all your letters were going backwards, leaning backwards, which means tremendous insecurity (for fuck's sake). But today I’ve seen, that all your letters were leaning forward, not all, but most of them were sort of leaning forward. At least that you’re suddenly starting to, instead of being reticent, starting to become forward and aggressive. Which is like a very normal thing, for men. Their leaning backwards handwriting is typical of, sort of, insecure, terribly insecure high school girl or something like that. It’s very rare to see it in a man, did you know that? And when I saw, when I first saw your handwriting, I was really amazed ‘cause you very rarely see that in a man. And I always felt that I saw your secret there, in something, but now, it’s starting to change, and it’s beautiful. Why, why that insecurity? And the passiveness, paranoia, I hate to say, but I really think that that had a lot to do with, with her, your marriage. Or maybe you were like that, and that’s how your marriage became that. I don’t know, that seems like a long relationship like that, would really screw somebody up. Like I was screwed up. That it could screw up, screw people up, rather. Then again, it could be a good thing. But anyway that handwriting, and your marriage, somehow I felt that sort of an intuitive thing, the first time I saw it, I thought that there was a definite connection.

J: What are you saying?

Y: I’m just saying how I miss you.

J: Well, ladies and gentleman, I also miss her, and it’s a terrible feeling. Alone in a crowded room.

Y: You look so nice when you’ve been playing awhile, and perspiring and everything. It’s looks like you had a drink or something . . . so insecure about something and about. . .

***

Y: [...] And it’s silly because actually all I want to do is to just not say anything. Oh, John, I really miss you, you don’t know how. [singing begins] I don’t know you...

J: Smashing Rooney the steak.

Y: ‘Cause I don’t know you.

J: Oh, no it is too late for me.

Y: ‘Cause I don’t know you.

J: I have been stab-bed in the brass vertebrae.

Y: Who did that?

J: I did it myself.

Y: Don’t you ever do that.

J: I must do it now and then to keep myself in tune.

Y: No, you mustn’t do anything without me.

J: I wasn’t exactly doing it without you. I was just doing it in the corner. Oh, Mother McRae. Excuse me. I must just let myself reek a minute. Because I’m sweating to my boots I’m going to have a look at the photographs of the family. [end of singing]

***

[Insert quote about Paul being a threat had he been a woman, etc, Air signs, etc]

***

John is such a genius. This is the first time that just once in a while, I almost get jealous of his talent, which is really amazing because I was never jealous of any artist. Whenever I get sad about his work, I almost feel like kneeling down and kissing his feet.

[...] you look like a real nervous wreck. You’re a very nervous person, apparently. You looked that way, suddenly I remembered you looked that way when I first came to EMI to pick up some scores, I mean, a manuscript from you, you looked like somebody who was terribly nervous and difficult, and feel like a difficult artist or something. If I had seen you that way, probably, I’d be scared, if I didn’t know you, and all that, if I just meet you that way. I wonder what John really is thinking about. You really look like a tense, nervous person. Why do you look so difficult? Like as if you want to scare a guy or something, I think that’s amazing. Anybody who has some project in their mind to approach you with or something would really be scared with that look. But it’s kind of nice, it’s very masculine [cut] or something. I don’t know how you have that shift of character of very sharp, strong eyes and sometimes very soft and beautiful eyes. Sometimes I don’t know if I’m following you too much. Sometimes I don’t know if I’m looking at you too much and so I haste to go near you. Right now you’re in the other room, and I’m just sort of embarrassed, and I don’t know if I should be coming or not. But you’re in my mind all the time, so I guess that’s what it is. You look so intense. And maybe you’re angry or something with me, I don’t know. So I’m afraid to go near you now.

***

[...] I’m so nervous now because I’m always trying to find out when Cyn is coming back.

P: Jot the melody down.

GM: Can you hear me?

Y: I feel like running out of this room. This is Tuesday, sixth of June, 1968. If anybody in the world would know how I feel now, because I’m the most insecure person in the world right now. Is this what love is? It’s so unfair that you have to suffer so much for loving someone. John is not here, he went out into the hall. I don’t know for what. He’s out for a long time. I think probably he’s calling home, I don’t know. He’s been with her for over a decade and their other child, I don’t know what to make of it. I don’t want to think about it. It’s either that he had a terribly weak character or he was in love to her (well, I'm glad they decided to go with the weak character version! How dare John be in love with anyone but Yoko?). I just don’t want to think about it. I’ve never been with anyone for so long so I wouldn’t know. If I think very hard, then I know, I mean I don’t even think I have to think hard, I just get so jealous about it I almost think I’m going to go insane.

(RIP to your mental health if you read all that, really, I'm so sorry)

[hangekitty]

I love that Er*n is in your no no rules- lmao.

Also may i request some soft Miche headcanons where he's comforting a female reader please? I've been very stressed from life recently and would really appreciate a bit of love and comfort from my fav character, smut is optional although i am above 18. Thank you so much in advance💛

Oh my gosh my first request thank you! And what a lovely way to start things out, I hope this brings comfort to you as I know how hard things are in life right now! And yes, we don’t accept Er*n in this house no thank you ~ 🌸

Did I listen to Bubble Gum by Clairo on loop because of the vibes? Maybe. Did I get upset writing this because I am touch starved? Also maybe 😌

Miche comforting his S/O after a bad day

Genre: fluff, NSFW 18+

Warnings: mentions of having a bad day, mental health, smut, swearing

Universe: canonverse

NSFW below the ‘read more’

SFW

Although Miche is a man of few words, he definitely knows how to show you how much he cares.

This man is a master of being able to sense whenever you’ve had a bad day, you wouldn’t even need to tell him; I suppose its because of his immaculate sense of smell, or that he takes good care to be finely in tune with your emotions.

Most of your worries and stresses stem from expeditions, having to fight off titans and watching your comrades fall certainly took a toll on your mental health; this at least was a stress you could share with Miche.

Miche’s love language is touch, so although he isn’t much of a talker, he would still want you to know that he is there for you all the same. This may look like hugs from behind, forehead kisses and holding you close to him whenever he can.

If you’re both standing, he will most definitely be the kind of guy to cuddle you and gently rock you - not quite a dance, but something that helps calm you down.

There is 110% chance that if he starts rocking you, he will rest his head on yours and hum a tune to you

Will ask Levi for your favourite kind of tea, another love language of his is acts of service. So bringing you tea, tidying your room or even cleaning your clothes without asking is a way of him showing how much he cares about you; the last thing you want to do is chores so he would run you a bath (if baths are available) and he would do the smaller things that would usually be too much effort.

Just because he is very quiet, doesn’t mean he won’t talk to you. He is more of a listener, but if you need words of affirmation or advice Miche is on it and usually says the right things. All this time of him being quiet, he has every opportunity of thinking up something to say.

Are you prone to nightmares? Miche has your back. Quite literally, he will roll over and hold you close to him. He is definitely the big spoon and will make sure to make you feel as safe and comfortable as possible.

In public, if Miche notices you tensing or begin to fluster out of stress or anger, he will hold your hand. He isn’t much for PDA, however he will push himself in situations where you need him. He would often take you out of a situation or to another room and hold your hands close to his chest, rubbing your hands with his thumbs and looking in your eyes.

Bedtime is the best time for cuddles, here he will give you the maximum affection of kisses, hugs and tickling sessions.

He will stroke your hair until you fall asleep, even if he is in an uncomfortable position, once he knows you are asleep he won’t budge.

Miche has a habit of holding you close to him when you are stressed and smelling your hair or rubbing his stubble on your exposed neck. You can’t help but giggle, even when sometimes you wanna be angry, this man never fails to make you smile.

If you suffer with panic attacks, Miche knows exactly what to do to help you. Whether grounding helps, giving you space or words of affirmations this man has it together and will do whatever he can to help. At first he might of been a nervous wreck, anxious to make sure he gets it right, but as you trust him, you tell him how he can help in that situation and Miche learns it and etches it into his brain.

“There’s my girl”

Bunny kisses! Lots of bunny kisses!

Random modern day AU head canon: this dude would turn on his LED lights and put on soft LoFi tunes on to calm you down!

NSFW

Sometimes when you are stressed, you require other means of ‘letting go’

Miche knows exactly what to do, but will wait for your social queues to make the first move

It’ll start off as giving you massages, touching you in all of your sensitive, aching areas.

You will most likely make some remarks that are passive aggressive (and suggestive) which makes Miche kinda /ZING/

He is the kind of guy who would come up behind you and lift your breasts up and claim “these are heavy, let me help you carry them” or some shit, even though you are clearly frustrated, this usually earns an annoyed giggle or two.

He will let you take control, if you have a particularly stressful day and all you want to do is have angry sex, he will let you take the reins or call all the shots. Honestly, any other time he would let you take control anyway, seeing you be so passionate is a real turn on; but given such a stressful day its sort of expected - unless you just want him to fuck you silly, he will happily oblige.

I don’t care what anyone else says but this man is canon a master of oral. With a nose like that, you could not convince me he wouldn’t use it to his full advantage okay??

He is more a giver than a receiver, so Miche would be in his personal heaven whilst giving you head. He particularly likes it when you’ve had a bad day to surprise you and lower you onto his face, you will probably squirm out of embarrassment but as soon as you’d gain your confidence he would go in hard; enjoying every bit of view he has.

If you are feeling particularly low due to a bad day, he will set up the bed with lots of pillows/blankets and have you lay down, legs open and him laying between them, licking at your pussy.

Miche is a thigh guy, a man of taste. Will leave kisses up and around your thighs before going anywhere near your pussy. He probably enjoys the smell whilst he’s down there, admiring your soft flesh and kissing every inch of you.

If you want to be in control, lets say you have a frustrating day, you would ride him. Heck, he wouldn’t even mind if you wanted to peg him. This man is up for anything and would do anything to please you.

If you want him to be in control, you’ve definitely unleashed an animal. As I’ve mentioned before, he is a giver and if he knows you’ve had a bad day, oh boy this man will do all he can to help you forget your troubles. Rough but steady is his strategy.

I promise you after a night with him in control, you won’t even remember what stress feels like.

Expect some marks, this man is a sucker and a nibbler, especially on your neck and breasts.

King of aftercare, lots of hugs and kisses; will also clean you up after any messes made.

If Miche is not a man of many words, he has them all for you in that moment. Telling you he loves you, how much you mean to him and how sorry he is that you had a bad day. “Today might have been hard, but tomorrow is another day my love”

“I’ll be right here”

I hope you enjoyed! Thanks so much for the request 🌸

[mycroftrh]

I would like to posit that it's not that eating disorders are more common in women, it's that the diagnosis of eating disorders is based around how they tend to look in women, so men who are in just as much distress and whose bodies are experiencing just as much damage aren't diagnosed

My mother had extremely severe, horrible life-long anorexia. She was in and out of hospitals/mental health facilities/ED rehab facilities her entire life and it's a miracle she lived as long as she did - and "as long as she did" was to her mid-forties. Near the end of her life she weighed so little I could (and did) quite literally pick her up with one hand.

Her own mother also has major eating issues, but the parent whose issues come closest to hers was her father, my grandfather.

As long as I knew him - up to, very literally, the day he died - he engaged in hard exercise for several hours a day; he woke up before dawn to row until he went to work, went back to the lake to row as soon as he got off work, and for most of the time once he got home, he was on his exercise machine.

For most of the time that I remember his diet was far more restricted than my mother's was. We'd go to a restaurant and she'd order something without significant fat or sugar, or if it was a better day she'd consider that her """"cheat"""" meal; he'd ask for "steamed vegetables, no sauce, no seasoning, no oil" and if they brought it to him with any sauce or oil or god forbid salt (salt is an Evil Mineral that will Ruin Your Health) he just wouldn't eat that day. He got most of his food from smoothie-things that he'd make himself in the blender.

He passed away in his early 60s from heart damage.

He looked like a skeleton with some lean muscle stuck on.

He wasn't diagnosable with any DSM-approved eating disorder.

I see men just like him - only younger, so the damage isn't as visible - all the time.

They live off protein shakes or kale-and-egg smoothies and spend every spare second breaking their bodies "training to failure" and avoid eating just as hard as my mother did. They build their lives around obsessing about eating the right thing and making their bodies look exactly the right way (which isn't a way possible for most humans) and destroying themselves however necessary to achieve that.

But while people are getting the hang of "dieting is culturally acceptable, but when taken "too far", where you're wrecking your body and mind, it's anorexia/bulimia", the diagnosis of that is extremely gendered, and there's no established system for "gym bro-ing is culturally acceptable but when it's taken "too far" and you're wrecking your body and mind, it's ????"

My brother, a professional violinist, had a friend who was getting a degree in music until he get obsessed with muscle-building, overdeveloped his muscles unevenly, and one day while lifting weights he snapped one of his own ligaments. The damage was permanent. He'll never be able to play music at a professional level again.

Diagnosing a man with anorexia is very difficult because the diagnostic criteria are very specifically built after how restrictive eating disorders tend to present in women. (Eg a lot of it is about specific body weights/weight gain; my grandfather's restrictive eating disorder meant that while he was skeletal he weighed a "normal" amount, because muscle is heavier than fat.) Until a few years ago, out of the four (4) diagnostic criteria, an entire criterion was about fuckin menstruation. I kid you not.

But there's no equivalent diagnosis for how eating disorders tend to present in men. The closest diagnosis to what many men experience would probably be "body dysmorphic disorder, with muscle dysmorphia" - which is classified as an Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder not an eating disorder, and treated accordingly. What my grandfather had was probably "orthorexia" - which is NOT in the DSM, at all.

So. Yeah. My mother had an extremely severe, life-long, life-threatening eating disorder, and was in and out of assorted institutions as a result. My grandfather had an extremely severe, life-long eating disorder that ended his life, and was NOT assisted with it by any institution, because it wasn't recognised as a disorder.

[ritsushinbro]

My Critique of Rebuild of Evangelion's Characterization: I originally wrote this post on the Evageeks forum and decided to post it here. It discusses the relationship between Misato, WILLE and the pilots and whether it is realistic and in-character. Warning this post contains spoilers and is very long. Also has references to self-harm and suicide.

With each revelation that comes out regarding the measures WILLE take against Shinji and their own pilots, it becomes more and more unrealistic for me to the point where it's almost comical. Let's go through some of them here:

They wear the explosive DSS chokers 24/7 which will kill the pilots should they risk awakening an Eva.

They are kept in a single room rigged with explosives.

In Shinji's case, he is (intended to be) put in 24/7 solitary confinement with explosives fitted as well.

Shinji is escorted around the wunder whilst restrained on a stretcher. (NOTE: The only time he isn't, is when Sakura takes him to Ritsuko).

It is confirmed in another thread that Misato gave clear permission to the crew for them to shoot Shinji on sight if they suspect he is attempting to get into an Eva. 

Now let me attempt to deconstruct these measures one-by-one:

It is understandable that Asuka and Mari wear DSS chokers because after all they are pilots and there is a risk of awakening. However in Shinji's case, he is forbidden from piloting and so there is no risk of awakening (remember Ritsuko did not think NERV would come after him, so they had no reason to think he would escape). So why place the DSS choker on him? Well we have already established it is simply because they have a resentment against him; there is no special, pragmatic reason. Is this realistic? Well I would say no for reasons I will explain later but I can certainly understand why others may say it is.

I don't think I will understand why they would keep their two main "soldiers" if you will, in an explosively rigged room. I believe others have  stated that from a tactical point, it's an extremely dumb move on WILLE's part. After all, if Asuka and Mari didn't have plot armor, what's to stop Gendo from tricking WILLE into killing their own pilots with these explosives? How would WILLE stop Gendo then? Will they use Shinji? No, for reasons I will state later. And another thing, we know that their rooms were already fitted with explosives so why on Earth would they add extra after the events of Q (when they stopped 4th impact). What do they hope to achieve with more bombs? Make the pilots more "deader" than they already are? In my opinion, this doesn't even come across as paranoid but just plain childish. Is this measure realistic from a story standpoint? No not in my eyes.

We know they intended to put Shinji in a solitary cell as this is what they do in Shin. If it was solitary confinement on it's own, then I believe it would be a realistic measure that would happen in real life. However I believe the writers did not factor in the effects of solitary confinement (especially one that is rigged to explode) on fully grown men; never mind a 14 year old who's just come out of a 14 year coma. Many people think solitary confinement is a walk in the park so I made another post a while ago highlighting why that's not the case:

"I remember when before Shin came out people here theorized that if Shinji stayed on the Wunder, they would eventually softened to him and let him help in ways that wouldn't have involved piloting. However with these revelations it looks like they intended to keep him in an isolated room far from everyone else that is (presumably) rigged with explosives as well as keeping the choker on his neck. Not even allowed to freely leave his cell without WILLE's permission (it is unlikely they would let him out judging from these measures). 

Even though Asuka and Mari were treated like this as well, at least they had each other and were able to leave as they had responsibilities in piloting. But Shinji was forbidden from piloting and was to be kept by himself except maybe being checked up on by Sakura now and again. So judging from these leaks (we will have to wait to properly see the full context) WILLE intended to lock Shinji in solitary confinement.

I have copied and pasted some of the effects of Solitary Confinement from Wikipedia below:

“Psychiatric: Research indicates that the psychological effects of solitary confinement may encompass "anxiety, depression, anger, cognitive disturbances, perceptual distortions, obsessive thoughts, paranoia, and psychosis." The lack of human contact, and the sensory deprivation that often go with solitary confinement, can have a severe negative impact on a prisoner's mental state that may lead to certain mental illnesses such as depression, permanent or semi-permanent changes to brain physiology, an existential crisis, and death.

Self-harm: According to a March 2014 article in American Journal of Public Health, "Inmates in jails and prisons attempt to harm themselves in many ways, resulting in outcomes ranging from trivial to fatal." Self harm was seven times higher among the inmates where seven percent of the jail population was confined in isolation. Fifty-three percent of all acts of self harm took place in jail. "Self-harm" included, but was not limited to, cutting, banging heads, self-amputations of fingers or testicles. These inmates were in bare cells, and were prone to jumping off their beds head first into the floor or even biting through their veins in their wrists. A main issue within the prison system and solitary confinement is the high number of inmates who turn to self-harm. Many of the inmates look to self-harm as a way to "avoid the rigors of solitary confinement."

Physical: Solitary confinement has been reported to cause hypertension, headaches and migraines, profuse sweating, dizziness, and heart palpitations. Many inmates also experience extreme weight loss due to digestion complications and abdominal pain. Many of these symptoms are due to the intense anxiety and sensory deprivation. Inmates can also experience neck and back pain and muscle stiffness due to long periods of little to no physical activity. These symptoms often worsen with repeated visits to solitary confinement.

Social: The effects of isolation unfortunately do not stop once the inmate has been released. After release from segregated housing, psychological effects have the ability to sabotage a prisoner's potential to successfully return to the community and adjust back to ‘normal’ life. The inmates are often startled easily, and avoid crowds and public places. They seek out confined small spaces because the public areas overwhelm their sensory stimulation.”

And this is just for solitary confinement. There are so many other things going on with and happening (or could happen) to Shinji such as the things below:

Shinji being only 14 years old.

Shinji being abandoned and neglected by his father.

Shinji being coerced/emotionally blackmailed to pilot Unit 1.

Shinji seeing girls he cared for "die".

Shinji being in a coma for 14 years.

Shinji being told he has a bomb on his neck.

Being told it is because he is being punished.

Being told he cannot pilot the eva anymore (he is effectively "useless" now).

Have his former co-pilot and friend try and punch him after he thought she was dead.

[Potentially] being told he started NTI and devastated the world.

[Potentially] being told that the girl he tried to save is "gone" and that she was a clone of his mother.

Being imprisoned in a cell (presumably) surrounded by explosives and not being able to freely leave.

Be completely isolated from everyone except when being checked up by a girl who's father he got killed. (NOTE: Mari might want to see him so Shinji at least has her, maybe). 

Have his mother figure (the woman who made him pilot the eva the most) threaten to detonate the choker around his neck and blow his head off when he tries to leave.

With the above list, is it any wonder his head is so messed up? I understand the purpose of these films is all about growing up and taking responsibility but expecting Shinji to willingly allow himself to be subjected to the treatment WILLE had in store for him is pure, unadulterated masochism. Much of what was is written here can safely be considered cruel, inhumane and arguably, torture. 

There is a massive difference between taking responsibility for one's mistakes and just letting the whole world torture you because you did something bad. My main fear and problem with Q and Thrice is that their main theme, which is accepting responsibility, is equated with accepting unreasonably cruel treatment. And I just think that is an EXTREMELY unhealthy message to send to people especially if they are depressed or live in abusive relationships."

When you take all these into account, does it place into perspective how messed up Shinji would have been had he stayed on the wunder? This is assuming that they thought they would never have a need for him, but as we find out in Shin, they needed Shinji in the end to defeat Gendo. If Shinji never left with Mark 09 and Misato successfully kept him "protective" custody, then one of three things would have happened when WILLE actually needed him to save everyone:

A: He would not have been in the mental state to pilot Unit 1 and Gendo would have completely wrecked him due to shit synch ratios. 

B: He would have told Misato and co. to fuck off and die. We've seen this nihilism before from Shinji (after the 5th angel). His incarceration alongside the humiliation and guilt from wearing the choker will have ratcheted up by a million.

C: He wouldn't have piloted because he would have killed himself. There's only so much a 14 year old can take and when subjected to a fate that causes even hardened criminals to resort to self-harm, genital mutilation and suicide, then what chance does Shinji have? 

Now back to my original point, do I think this measure is realistic? I would like to say yes if it was the solitary on it's own, however when combined with the other things, then I think the chances of Shinji commiting suicide is extremely high to the point where it's not believable for him to continue as an anime protagonist. You have to make sure the protagonist goes through difficulty in order to experience growth and change, however if you make it too harsh (to the point of committing suicide) then it seems less believable that they live to continue the story. On a separate note, many people think that Shinji was immature for leaving with Mark 09 the first chance he got and that this is proof that he is, in Asuka's words, a "brat". But let's be realistic, if this story is about Shinji's growth and maturation, then how exactly would WILLE's treatment of him be conducive to that? The truth is WILLE's sheer hostility towards him would have completely stunted any emotional growth and maturation in Shinji and it would have destroyed the point of the film. Also no-one can argue that WILLE would have eventually "come round" or "softened-up" towards Shinji because even after 14 years they still don't trust their own pilots. So yeah, Shinji most likely would have been stuck in solitary with a bomb around his neck until he either killed himself or the war ended (but even this doesn't guarantee his freedom).

Regarding the stretcher business. I don't understand why you have to restrain Shinji on a stretcher when the kid has already surrendered himself and has come voluntarily. Maybe WILLE are just full of bondage fetishists; it would certainly explain the chokers as well. 

If the DSS chokers and the explosive rooms weren't enough, Misato actually gave orders to the crew to shoot Shinji if they thought he was trying to pilot again. At this point, I just think this is just overkill. I mean the kid has a bomb on his neck that prevents him from awakening an Eva, you intended to keep him locked up even though he can't really leave the wunder except with outside help and now you intend to shoot him if you think he'll get into an Eva. The problem with this, is that piloting an Eva requires all the bridge-bunnies to sortie the damn thing. Shinji cannot enter Unit 1 by himself, especially since the thing is being used as an engine so why do they assume that Shinji is capable of being Sam Fisher and sneaking into Unit 1? We see that Sakura and Midori are actually willing to shoot Shinji in 3.0+1.0 and do so when he merely suggests that he pilot Unit 1. But seriously what harm would Shinji have done in Unit 1 considering the fact that Gendo was already going to start another impact anyway? Why actively try and kill (or injure in Sakura's case) the only guy that can save your ass? One cannot argue that they were just being "desperate or panicking" because in Midori's case, she actually takes the time to confirm her orders from Misato. This shows that at least, she was still of lucid mind. This particular altercation just beggars belief in my mind and the fact that Misato actually gave those orders on top of all the other measures is absolutely extraordinary. So as you can imagine, I do not think this was realistically executed.

However, I can already hear some detractors say: "So what? Misato hesitated to detonate the DSS choker and also took a bullet for Shinji. She redeemed herself from putting the DSS choker on him and the kill-order for if they thought he would try and get into an Eva." 

And to those people I say….not really. There is an idiom attributed to Benjamin Franklin and it goes like this: "An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure." How does this apply to Misato and Shinji's relationship? Well Misato wouldn't have had to hesitate to pull the trigger if she didn't put it on him in the first place. Misato wouldn't have had to take a bullet for Shinji, if she didn't give permission for the crew to shoot him in the first place. Let's take this following dialogue for example:

916-929:

Kitakami: "It's a good thing we got Major Shikinami back. But why'd we have to take that disease along with her?"

Aoba: "Just leave it alone. Better than Nerv still being able to use him."

Tama: "If he tries to get into an Evangelion, all hands have permission to shoot on sight. There's nothing to worry about this time."

Kitakami: "Come on, that's all for show. The last time he broke out of here, the Captain couldn't put him down. I've got zero trust about this time either."

Nagara: "He was a kid. I can understand why she'd hesitate."

Kitakami: "That 'kid' caused Near Third Impact and murdered my entire family!"

Hyuga: "Near Third was a consequence of what he did, not his goal. The Captain's doing her best to atone for that too."

Takao: "That's right. She's who Kaji entrusted with Wille, and it's our job to trust the captain."

We learn a few things from this dialogue. Firstly, the older WILLE members are much more understanding to Shinji and Misato's situation: Aoba and Hyuga understand that it's better to keep an eye on Shinji and that he never meant to start NTI, Takao is one who always trusts Misato's judgement and Sumire understands that Misato would have found it difficult to kill a child, especially one that Misato was close with. 

Secondly, it appears that the younger WILLE members (Midori, Sakura and Tama) are the ones that are fearful/hateful towards Shinji (NOTE: Tama is a strange case, he strikes me as the sort of kid that just follows what everyone else is feeling. He might not feel anything towards Shinji beyond what you'd expect). 

Finally it appears that most of WILLE crew members are actually reasonable people and are not the extremely desperate and paranoid individuals some people on the forum believe. Remember this is AFTER Shinji started the 4th impact in Q. The fact that some of the WILLE crew members speak of Shinji in this way, show they are capable of understanding. Most actually trust Misato and respect her judgement except for Midori, who questions Misato's capabilities in following through on her threats. 

Which brings me to my next point. Misato has had no hesitation in pulling rank in the past. In 2.0, she even has an altercation with Ritsuko, her best friend, right before they fight the 8th angel. Misato is a woman that will tell even her best friend to STFU, when it comes to doing what she wants. Having said that, (timeskip shenanigans aside) there's no reason why she couldn't have done the same with the younger WILLE crew members. She could have nipped all of it in the bud by telling Sakura, Midori and the rest of them that Shinji was groomed to cause NTI and it was not his fault.

Instead, despite being the captain that everyone loves and fears, she kowtowed to the crew's paranoia and had the pilots fitted with explosive chokers, put in explosively rigged solitary confinement and gave the order to kill Shinji if they feared the worst. This is the sort of thing that drives fully grown men to suicide, never mind 14 year olds that have just come out of a coma. Imagine if Shinji did commit suicide in his cell. Who would Misato and WILLE have turned to in order to defeat Gendo in the end? What if Gendo tricked WILLE into killing their own pilots with the explosives? They would be properly screwed then. If Misato actually cared, as we are led to believe from her hesitation to kill Shinji, then she would have told the rest of the WILLE crew to fuck off, instead of alienating and putting Shinji and the pilots in that much risk. Are we really expected to believe that Misato placed such extreme countermeasures on Shinji just to appease Midori and Sakura? Not likely. This is why I believe that Misato would not have put the DSS choker on Shinji in the first place, and her doing so in Q was extremely unrealistic and out of character, even with anything that happened during the timeskip.

Some of you will say: "Who cares about realism? It's a show about aliens and growing up." While this is true, Anno has proven that he is able to pull the themes off much better when you look at the NGE series. Disregarding the self-contained narrative, it is obvious that the purpose of Q was to bring Shinji to the same point he was at after episode 24 of the series. If we look at how NGE/EOE handled Shinji's depression, we see that it is quite realistic:

The neglect and coercion by the adults in his life, almost dying to angels multiple times, the sexual tension with Asuka, almost killing Touji, finding out Rei is a clone of his mother, Misato putting the moves on him and having to kill Kaworu all culminate towards Shinji's mental state during EOE. Shinji is passively suicidal but it's due to the *situation* and his own introverted tendencies instead of people actively trying to hurt and isolate him. He finds the will to live again due to his mothers words despite knowing just how difficult living might be. If you remove all the Evas and the Angels from the story, the themes that are touched upon (isolation, neglect, misunderstanding) still apply and the audience can still resonate with them. 

The rebuilds however go about it completely differently. They bring Shinji to that same suicidal state by having all the characters/plot actively harm Shinji's mental health by:

Putting him in a coma for 14 years so he is completely clueless. Imagine how groggy you are when you wake up in the morning and then multiply that by a million. 

Have Misato psychologically castrate Shinji by telling him he won't do anything with a look of disdain on her face.

Have Ritsuko make Shinji feel dread by telling him he has a bomb on his neck and it's because he is being "punished".

Not tell him why he is being punished when he asks Misato.

Have Asuka try to punch Shinji after he thought she was dead.

Tell Shinji the girl he saved is "gone”.

Have his "mother figure" threaten to blow his head off for wanting to leave with the girl you just told him is gone.

Have Asuka and Mari attack Shinji in Lilith's chamber even though Shinji was seemingly willing to listen to them had Asuka not kept attacking. (Watch that scene again and you'll see when Asuka learns what Shinji is trying to do, she stops attacking but instead of explaining that he's being manipulated, she just calls him a brat instead).

Even Mari was willing to potentially kill or cripple Shinji with the Anti-AT rounds. (We don't know what the AA rounds are truly capable of because the only time they are used on screen, they don't work. The round cartridges state that they are armor and AT field piercing and have explicit restrictions on their use. The fact that Mari requires Asuka's explicit authorization to use them imply that they are most likely lethal and would have killed/crippled Shinji had he been in a normal Eva). 

Have Shinji's friend's head explode with the device Shinji's "mother figure" actually meant for him. Imagine seeing someone's head explode and then remember that your "mother figure" actually meant that to be for you. That would certainly mess anyone up.

Have Asuka then kick and manhandle him when he is catatonic.

Have Asuka force feed him to the point where he pukes whilst he is still grieving the death of his friend. 

Have Shinji only be escorted whilst tied to a stretcher despite him coming voluntarily.

Have Misato place Shinji in 24/7 solitary confinement in a cell rigged with explosives.

Have Misato tell the WILLE crew to shoot Shinji on sight if they think he's getting into an EVA.

Have people tell Shinji that he's being a brat the entire time for reacting badly to all this.

By having Misato, Asuka, WILLE reject and "punish" Shinji so harshly so it kicks off his isolation and desperation, it makes Shinji's "recovery" seem less believable. Anno himself didn't even know how to make Shinji recover psychologically in 3.0+1.0 and he actually had to ask the voice actors on how to make that happen. The story made the WILLE crew go full scorched-earth and in doing so made Shinji's "growth" and his reconciliation with Misato seem impossible. 

I have already stated that I believe Q represents "Condemnation" and Shin represents "Compassion" and I think both films pull that off brilliantly. But that doesn't mean I think the characters acted in a realistic manner. I do not believe that Misato would have placed such harsh sanctions on Shinji in the first place for the reasons I have stated above. And if she did, I do not believe that Shinji would have easily forgiven Misato (even IF she took a bullet for him) as we see he does in the film. I do not believe that WILLE were merely "scared and desperate" because as the dialogue above shows, they are surprisingly understanding (but still disapproving) of Shinji's situation despite him literally starting another impact. I do not believe that Misato would have bent over to Sakura and Midori's resentment and taken measures against Shinji, just to ease their minds. 

In summary, my main problem with the post-timeskip rebuilds is that I feel they gaslight the audience in thinking that Shinji was just being a "brat" the entire time by having Asuka and Mari say: "You have grown a little/You smell like an adult now." However, the truth is Shinji's been through so much mental suffering perpetrated by the people he cares about, that it's a miracle he's not killed himself. It would certainly break most of us on this forum. The movies seek to show Shinji "finally" taking responsibility when the truth is, the plot went so above and beyond putting him down in such an extreme manner in the first place.

[bearlee-giggling]

The Thing About Humans

summary: Connor is struggling to cope with his newly acquired emotions. Hank, however, is a pro.

warnings: cursing, mentions of death/suicidal thoughts, tickling

-~-

In the time that Connor had been living with Hank, post-deviation, he had been warned about dwelling on the past. It was a mistake Hank had made far too many times, one of which nearly resulted in him ending his own life. And Connor knew that Hank spoke the truth.

But there he was, curled up into a ball on Hank's couch, plagued by the memories of his days as a deviant hunter. He was thinking about Daniel. The look of terror and betrayal in his eyes after being shot by the snipers.

"You lied to me, Connor. You lied to me." Those were Daniel's last words, the pitch of his voice gradually deepening as his system shut down. If Connor would have known what would happen to Daniel... he would have done something to stop it. Anything.

Connor could feel himself shaking as his thoughts continued on. Where was Hank? Gone for lunch, I think. It wasn't like Hank to go to the Chicken Feed truck without him. Had Connor done something wrong? Was Hank mad at him?

Just as Connor was starting down that new thought train, he heard Hank fumbling with the key to the front door just outside. Hank finally managed to unlock the door and stumble into the house, half-empty soda cup still in-hand.

Hank was almost startled to see Connor curled up on the couch. "Connor?" No response. "Connor! What happened?" Hank quickly abandoned his soda on the kitchen table and hurried over to the couch, kneeling on the floor next to where Connor was sitting.

"Connor, talk to me. What's going on?" The genuine panic in the lieutenant's voice surprised Connor. He had only heard him speak like that during missions, when Connor's life was in jeopardy. But Connor wasn't in danger now. No, at least not physically.

"Connor!" A firm hand on his shoulder brought Connor back to reality. He looked to Hank, slightly startled. The lieutenant was taken aback by the tears streaming down his android companion's face. His voice softened, the panic fading into genuine concern. "I'm right here, son. Just breathe." Hank paused for a moment to allow Connor to catch his breath. "Can you tell me what happened?"

Connor took a moment to swipe the tears away from his eyes. "Those d-deviants-" his voice wobbled as he spoke. "They just wanted freedom. And I just-" His voice broke into a sob as he tried to continue, hiding his face in his hands, but Hank had already figured out what Connor was trying to say.

"That wasn't you, Connor. I know that, you know that, even all of Jericho knows that now. The real you, the you we all know now, is kind, compassionate, empathetic... and anybody who doesn't see that is a fool."

Connor sniffled, once again looking up at his human friend. Hank's words were genuine, and Connor knew it. "When you used to tell me I was showing empathy, I didn't believe you." Connor choked on some odd mix of a laugh and a sob, remembering his stubborn attitude prior to his deviation.

Hank chuckled at the memory of Connor back at the police station, begging him to help with locating Jericho. "No denying it now, huh?"

Hank stood up from his position on the floor, plopping down on the couch next to Connor. The android now sat upright, legs crossed beneath him.

"Feeling better?"

"I'm starting to, all thanks to you, of course."

"I'll say, I never imagined I would meet an android more empathetic than most humans. Talk about character development, huh?"

"I'm sure you're exaggerating, Lieutenant."

There was a short pause in conversation. A comfortable silence. It didn't last for much longer than ten seconds, but it was there.

"Still the same stubborn wise-ass though." Hank nudged Connor with his elbow, attempting to lighten the mood.

"Hey!" Connor yelped, pushing Hank's arm away. "As if you're not just as mule-headed as me!" Connor shot back with a grin that one could only describe as shit-eating. Oh, he was gonna be like that now.

"Holy shit, now you're giving me attitude? Where the hell did you learn that?"

"You know, Jericho may not be the greatest influence for your sweet innocent android, Lieutenant." Connor's grin grew wider with each passing second.

"Okay, now you're just asking for this." Hank jumped to his feet, grabbing Connor's hands to pull the android down onto the sofa completely, both of his wrists trapped inside one of Hank's large hands. Connor was now laying face up on the couch with his hands pinned above his head. "You knew this was coming, didn't you?"

Hank had learned a lot about Connor over the past couple of months. He learned about his fascination with dogs, heard him laugh for the first time, and discovered the android's true personality. And as sweet as Connor could be, he could also be a little shit.

Hank, however, had discovered a fool proof method of knocking Connor down a few pegs. Oddly enough, the discovery of that method just happened to go hand-in-hand with hearing Connor laugh.

"Connor, how long has it been since you laughed?"

Connor swallowed the nervous lump in the back of his throat. "Approximately 36 hours."

"You know, studies show that laughing on a regular daily basis has a significant positive impact on mental health."

"Of course I knew that, Lieutenant. I am, quite literally, a living database." If smug remarks could kill, Hank would have been six feet under.

"You pretentious motherfucker!"

Connor was about to fire back with another cocky remark, but he was cut off by his own startled yelp as Hank tazed him in the ribs. "Wait! Hank, you don't have to do this-!"

"Of course I do! You were in a shitty mood, you gave me attitude, and when I pinned you down, you continued with the attitude? Come on, Connor, you weren't exactly subtle about wanting this."

Connor attempted to defend himself, despite the fact that Hank had figured out exactly what Connor was after, but he was once again cut off, this time by his own sudden burst of laughter as Hank began repeatedly poking him in the ribs. "Don't you dahahAHAHARE-"

"Oh, I dare." Hank chuckled at the android beneath him, eying the hem of Connor's oversized DPD hoodie."

"Nohoho!"

"Yes!"

Hank quickly shoved both of his hands underneath the android's shirt, now leaving Connor with complete control over his arms. Obviously, Connor made no attempt to defend himself from Hank's attacks. He was too caught up in his own wild laughter to do so even if he wanted to.

"You know, I'd never heard any androids laugh before you, Connor. Although I can't quite say I'm complaining. It's kinda fun watching Mr. Look-At-Me-I'm-So-Serious get destroyed, and by something as childish as tickling?"

"KNOHOCK IT OHOHOHOFF!"

"No, I don't think I will." Hank's nonchalant yet teasy reply in combination with the feeling of his hoodie riding up gave Connor goosebumps. "Hey Connor? How much air can fit inside the average human's lungs?"

Connor paused for a minute, confused by the odd question. "Well it all depends on a number of factors like age, size, overall health-"

"Too slow!" And with that, Hank took a deep breath and blew a huge raspberry right over Connor's belly button.

Connor all but screamed in response, flailing his arms until he felt one of his hands make firm contact with Hank's face with a pained "Ouf-!" from the older man.

"Hank! Oh my... I didn't mean to, I'm so sorry!"

"Oh relax, will ya? I'm fine! Not really surprised either."

"Why would you do- that- if you knew I might hurt you?" The concern in Connor's voice was genuine.

"Oh my God you can't even say it!" Hank snorted as Connor's face flushed bright blue.

"Hank, I'm serious! Why would you do that?"

"Okay, look. The thing about humans is that, more often than not, they're willing to get hurt for the folks they care about. Even if that means getting smacked in the face after a very well deserved tickle attack- I wanted to cheer you up, not to mention you wanted to get wrecked. Neither of us wanted me to get smacked, but it happened. And it's okay, because you're feeling better now right?"

Connor thought for a moment. "Yes, Lieutenant. I do believe that's true."

[captaincravatthecapricious]

I Thought I Could Trust You- Prompt Fill

 CWs: panic attacks, mental health issues, suicidal thoughts kind of? (Jon wishing that if someone is going to kill him that they would just get it over with), paranoia, insomnia, season 2 Jon and all his issues. Yes basically same as last chapter.  Oh and Food and asthma.  

This is basically a follow up for It Was My Job to Protect You

For Someone on Ao3 whose name escapes me because I haven’t slept well or recently and I am so sorry.  If it’s you please let me know!

LAST BINGO! FINALLY.  I am taking "things you said" prompts, come drop me one of those prompts for Jon, Martin, or Tim!  I am very tired and can't remember if I proofread, so sorry in advance, or in past tense I don't know anymore time is fake and so is the order in which we perceive events.  Have a lovely stretch in your existence.  Card by the wonderful @celosiaa​!  Also very much inspired by @janekfan​

Jon can hardly keep his eyes open.   The stairs were almost too much for him.   Wavering before his eyes and pulling on his heavy limbs, aching and shaky from his earlier panic attack.   

It’s not like he can ask for help.  And even if he could, Martin is just as badly off.  And Tim... Tim scares him.  

Tim is loud.  Tim is angry.  Which is Jon’s own fault.  If he hasn’t been following Tim, Tim would be boisterous, not shouting.  Jon wouldn’t have learned to flinch when he talks.  To flinch when he moves.  

And he wants to trust him but he’s afraid.  And if Martin didn’t kill Gertrude, that makes it all the more likely that Tim did.  

But no.  No.  Tim is his friend, right?  Was his friend.  

But all worry of letting him into his flat vanishes when the climb steals his hard-earned air from his lungs.  Leaving him swaying and gasping on the landing.  

Tim’s speaking and Jon flinches away.  Almost teetering down the stairs, before he’s caught.  By Tim.  

“Oi, steady on, boss!”

Almost drown out by his breathing.  Narrow chest heaving with effort and none of it reaching his brain.  

“Hey Jon, could you maybe hold off on passing out on me until you give me your keys?”  

Is that what Tim had been talking about?  

Keyes, he can do that.  Right?  

But enervated fingers fumble with them in his pocket and he can’t grasp them.  To his unending shame, he feels tears on his cheeks.  

At least Martin is too out of it from his own panic attack earlier to notice.  Much as the comfort would be welcome.  It would also be stifling and even more embarrassing.   

“Jon?”   Still too loud.  Tim’s too loud too close still steadying him physically which is still sending him further off balance.  “Never mind, I’ll use mine.”  

Because right.  Tim had a key.  Which Jon has been regretting because too loud too angry Tim could slit his throat while he sleeps but he doesn’t have it in him to change the locks so he’s been putting wedges under all of his doors.  Ugly old wooden things that scuff the floor but that’s fine if it keeps him alive a little longer.  Warns him early enough to arm himself.  Although.  Dying quickly without any fuss sounds... like a luxury.  

Tim guides an overly pliant Martin to Jon’s understuffed and threadbare sofa.  He tries to guide Jon to the bedroom before Jon’s knees buckle but Jon doesn’t want to be put to bed.  He doesn’t want Tim in attended.  He wants to trust Tim.  But he can’t.  

Much as Jon wants to sink into his bed and make up for all the sleep he’s missed over... well over the course of his whole life, he can’t leave Tim alone.  Unsupervised.  

Can’t let Tim kill him.  Or poor, exhausted Martin on the couch.  Or risk some other person breaking in and killing them all.  

Jon isn’t sure if it would be better to be killed by someone he knows and once called a friend.  

He isn’t sure.  

But when Tim goes to the kitchen to make them all some food which Jon’s lackluster supplies, Jon follows. 

Jon can’t keep his eyes open.  Hyper vigilant to the sounds of the kitchen.  But he can’t keep his eyes open.  And… it might be welcome if Tim’s curry ends up killing him.  So long as the poison does its work quickly.  

He doesn’t want to die, not really.  He’d very much like to survive, but surviving is exhausting, and maybe he wouldn’t mind too much if he just… wasn’t.  He doesn’t want to be a mystery, but he doesn’t want to be afraid anymore… to Hurt anymore.  And he is so exhausted that he does Hurt.  Endlessly.  Not to mention the ragged holes in his skin, still inching ever closer to being ugly scars… or they would be if he could stop worrying them… making them bleed.  

But as tired as he is, it doesn’t stop him from being afraid.  Afraid of dying?  Or maybe just the fear of not knowing When the end is coming.  If he only knew, then he could relax until it was actually imminent.  Not just remaining alert every moment.  

Christ he wants to sleep.  

And… he does… in a way.  He dozes while Tim cooks.  

But he’s afraid that it’s poisoned.  He is afraid Tim will be angry if he can’t make himself eat it for fear… then again it probably won’t be dangerous because Tim and Martin will presumably also be eating…

He wakes up to a clatter of something.  He wakes up with numbed arms and a pounding pulse.  He wakes up with Tim too close holding a knife.  

And later he can parse out, Tim is only too close because he is picking up the cutting board that fell off Jon’s cluttered and diminutive counter, but all he sees is Tim with a knife, Tim cursing loudly.  And he can’t even scream because his chest is too tight.  

This is it.  This is the end of Jonathan Sims.  

He’s going to die.  He is certain he is.  

He shrieks.  And aborted, choked off sound.  Pathetic.  

And he almost thought he could trust Tim.  He almost thought he could trust him.  Almost.  

When Tim drops the knife and makes his posture as non-threatening as possible, Jon hates himself.  Still unable to draw a full breath, and he Hates himself.  

He’s broken Tim’s trust again by not trusting him.  Again.  Not even the first time today.  He wants to tear himself up from the inside out, flacking little bits of old and poorly preserved parchment.  Wants to make those lines appear and send tiny flakes of paper and dust flying and have no more of himself.  Nothing left.  Just this gaping chasm.  Which is all he deserves really.  Leaving nothing but a mess, just like always.  Horrible… wretched… selfish… guilty… pathetic…  What is WRONG with him.  This is Tim.  Tim.  His first friend at the institute.  Tim who has always been there for him.  Until Jon went and Fucked it up.  Properly fucked it up, with no way back.  And.. And… FUCK.  

He’s crying again.  Making a proper fool of himself.  

“Jon?”  

He can’t look at Tim.  Can’t catch his breath.  Catching and wheezing in a way that is pitting the asthma against the panic and making them both all the worse.  

Tim isn’t as gentle as he can be when he shoves the inhaler at Jon for the second time today.  But Jon’s been sitting at the edge of a panic attack for weeks, and this time, it had been his fault.  Not his fault that Jon’s been a jumpy paranoid wreck, but his fault for being loud and angry and threatening and waving a knife around in front of the nervous wreck that used to be his friend.  

“Jon, you’ve got to use the inhaler.  If you don’t breath, I’m gonna wake Martin from his nap.  And he’s gonna be pissed at me, and if he gets pissed at me, I’m gonna get pissed at you, and you don’t want that.”  

Probably a mistake to threaten the person afraid of you, but he can’t fix his anger in one day.  Not until Jon puts in the work too.  

Okay he gets it.  Jon can’t exactly help being paranoid.  He isn’t gonna shame Jon for having shit mental health.  That would make him a bloody hypocrite.  But… Jon did not handle it well.  You’re supposed to reach out if you’re having a breakdown!  (Yes he knows… he’s still a bloody hypocrite but Less of one).  So… Jon’s gonna have to make an effort, and Tim… will try to be less …threatening?  Loud?  Big?  

Jon stops stalking him, Tim takes a good snoop around his flat, they take turns keeping watch for monsters so maybe they can get some goddamned sleep.  Simple enough!  

If Jon can stop having a panic attack while he’s trying to cook!

No… No.  Not gonna be angry at Jon for having another panic attack.  Hardly even came down from the last one.  Still too paranoid to leave Tim alone in the kitchen, stubborn bastard.  And what kind of an idiot only has a few withered vegetables in his fridge?  

(The kind who is too paranoid to eat non-packaged food, Tim does NOT think to himself).  

Still.  Jon should have reached out.  should have said something before it got this bad!  This isn’t Tim’s Fault.  He didn’t help, sure, but it isn’t his Fault!  And he isn’t going to apologize and he isn’t going to forgive Jon.  (At least for now).  

Jon has to be better.  Try to be better.  Tim will meet him halfway, but Jon has to make the first step, and use the goddamn inhaler.  But the threatening just made it worse.  

Jon looking frail and skinny and tired, hands over his head again, bracing for an attack.  Just like in his office, just like on the stairs.  Crumped up in such a way that even if he weren’t having an asthma attack and a panic attack, it would probably still be hard to breathe.  

“Boss, you’ve got to breathe.  We did this earlier, I didn’t kill you then.  Not gonna kill you now.”  Tim moves slowly so Jon isn’t surprised, and guides him a little straighter in his chair, holding the inhaler for him, as Jon’s finger tips (and lips) are going blue.  

And Jon’s still fighting him, although quickly losing what little strength he had to begin with.  

It takes some soothing before Jon lets him near enough to get the inhaler in his mouth.  “That’s good, boss.  That’s it, bud.  Now breathe with me.”  

He has a hand on Jon’s narrow chest now.  Sticky with cold sweat, heaving unevenly.  And Tim can’t believe how fragile his friend(?) has become.  

But as soon as Jon has breath in his body, the apologies start flowing out.  

“Hey, now.  None of that now.  You can apologize until you’re blue in the face once you’re not, ya know… literally blue in the face.  I do want those, but not until you’ve gotten some sleep and you eat some of this damn fine curry that I am somehow making from your truly pathetic supplies.  I’ll take the first watch, then we can talk about it, and you can actually start doing better.  Because that’s what I want.  I want you to stop hiding from us.  I get it, you can’t trust right now.  Fine.  But what you’ve been doing isn’t okay.  You don’t trust me.  That’s …well not fine, but I get it.  I do.  But stalking us, and yelling at Martin, and hiding from us isn’t how to deal with that.  You don’t trust us, so tell us how to help.  How can we prove to you that we aren’t gonna hurt you?  So you can’t help being a paranoid wreck, that’s understandable, but you can’t take that out on us.  That isn’t okay.  So first curry, then sleep.  Then we’ll talk.  Okay?”  

And Jon nods.  Allowing himself to be helped to the couch while Tim finishes dinner.