#been feeling horribly anxious all day for no specific reason

[damians-haunted-space-station]

damn maybe the people that say going for a walk will make you feel better were onto something

[springseasonie]

Hi I really loved your Jisung va work and I was hoping you could do a mark ver?

Listen to the sound of my voice (M)

Warnings: sexual content, auralism (sound/voice kink), guided masturbation, mutual masterbation

Word count: 1,2k

A/N: my job has been beating my ass very sorry this too so long

There's a reason you find yourself clicking his profile every time you need a release. He always says everything you need to hear. When all is down, there's only one man that doesn't disappoint you and his name is Mark.

"Welcome back beautiful."

You smiled to yourself, body sinking into your couch as you allowed his voice to soak your ears.

"You're probably here because you had a bad day, am I right?"

You nod, sighing heavily to yourself as you sit with your knees hugged to your chest. You hated feeling vulnerable, having to verbally express your feelings. The mere thought of actually having to tell people things instead of simply internalizing it made you anxious. Yes it is a bad, unhealthy habit, but it's all you know. It used to be worse, until you found his audios. They help you calm down a bit, in more ways than one. And you definitely need to hear him, especially after your hookup from that night went horribly.

"Whatever it was, it's okay. It's all over now, yes? And now it's time for you to listen to me okay? Can you do that?"

You nodded, gulping as you felt your body becoming hot at the low timbre of his voice.

"I want you to feel your body. Run your hands over your skin softly. Do you feel that? All that tension in your muscles? We're gonna get rid of that right now, just listen to the sound of my voice ."

You felt your body up like he said, the feeling of still being unsatisfied coming back. It was the first time in a while you got the courage to actually try and hook up with someone. You were really attracted to him and was hoping that attraction would transfer when you got into bed with him, but he was nonetheless disappointing. You really needed a release, and if this was how you were going to get it, so be it.

"I know you probably don't want to be teased," he says, chuckling softly in your ears. "But you know me, I like teasing you. I like having you work for it and I know you do too. That's why you keep coming back."

And he was right indeed. That's why the familiar feeling of butterflies that quickly died earlier in the night were beginning to come back. You really liked Mark's voice, his face, his cadence, his everything. He wasn't a celebrity in the slightest, but he was a hundred percent your celebrity crush. When all went wrong, you went right back to him, slipping your headphones on and falling into absolute bliss.

"Touch your breast. Squeeze them. Feel them. Doesn't that feel good?"

You hands slithered up your body, groping yourself slowly but firmly, unlike Mr. Nervous failed to do. Rolling your nipples between your fingers, you let out a shaky sigh, starting to feel yourself become aroused once again.

"Now run your fingers down your body, against your stomach. But do it softly, so soft it's just your fingertips."

And you did. He knew all the things that could make you women tick, specifically you. That's why you haven't moved on for so long.

"Now take your hand and move it right to your pussy. I know you couldn't wait for it, I won't torture any longer."

You did, body shuddering as your fingers grazed the sensitive skin. Spreading your arousal over the bud, you circled your fingers, spreading your legs wider.

"Feels good, doesn't it? Tell me it feels good."

"F-fuck," you moaned softly. "It feels good." Your fingers are still going, you start to feel your orgasm build a little too quickly from being worked up from the hours before, so you slow down.

"You're such a good girl, doing whatever I say. Playing with yourself to the sound of my voice. I love it."

You swallowed, head becoming heavier as your body sank into your mattress. Naturally, your fingers moved from your clit to your entrance, pushing two fingers in as slow as you could. But you were way too horny to go slow, the sound of his voice couples with the way your fingers slid in and out of you making it difficult to slow down. Shallow breaths escaped your lips as you kept pumping your fingers. You were almost completely swept away in the pleasure until you heard him pop open a bottle, squirting something into his hand.

"I bet that surprised you," he laughed softly. You heard him spread what you assumed to be lube over his cock, mouth salivating at the wet sounds in your ears. "I want us to cum together."

For once, you started slowing yourself down pumping your fingers slower. You listened to him jerk himself off, soft sighs falling into his mic. You loved the sounds he made. So deep, soft, raspy, whiny. Everything you needed to hear at the moment.

"Fuck.. wish I could feel you right now. Wish I could just have my hands on you and make you feel good. Do you want me to?"

You nodded fast, now reaching down your other hand to rub your clit while fingering yourself. A whine escapes your lips, the sudden addition of pleasure shooting through your body.

"Wish I could just sit you on my cock. You'd like that wouldn't you? I know you'd like it, being split open by my dick."

You could cum instantly just by the way he was speaking right now. The breathiness in his tone, the sound of him jerking off faster. You can't help but imagine him sitting, touching himself with his eyes hanging low, shirt pulled up slightly as he moaned softly with his brows scrunched. You were about to cum from the thought alone.

“Shit” your voices met in harmony as the moans flew past your lips. The over stimulation was getting to you head in the best way possible as Mark whispered the most heinous things into your ear.

“Does it feel good?”

Your back arched as you hit a spot inside of you that had stars clouding your vision. And as if sensing your actions the man spoke without missing a beat.

“I can’t hear you baby girl. Does it feel good?”

The low growl in his voice had you practically mewling in please. “Fuck yes it feels fucking amazing” the sound of his voice rang in your ears as he chuckled.

The sloppy wet sounds hitting your ears made you hotter and hotter, needier and needier. Curse that annoying dickhead of a man for leaving you like this, for forcing you to fall back onto your delusional habits of the sexy audio porn man. His grunts and moans grew in speed, breathing speeding up and becoming louder in his mic.

“I’m so close” your need for release was almost unbearable. “I want you to come with me, baby. Let go, just for me.”

Your reaction was immediate. You let out a loud moan as your orgasm came washing over you. “M-mark” his name fell past your lips as you heard his trembling groans in your headphones. You could tell he was in no better condition than you were. His deep voice growing in pitch as he came like music to your ears as the sound continued to push you to your brink.

As you both came down from your high he said his final words to you. “Well that was fun wasn’t it? Maybe next time we can do something a bit more intimate?"

You raised your brows as his words. How intimate? What was his idea of intimate? Was this not enough? Well you wouldn't know, not until his next post.

[wolfiemozart1787]

Thank you SO much

Hey, I just wanted to say to everyone who’s supporting me in this very unfortunate and just plain shitty thing that’s happening on AO3 - thank you. I really do appreciate it. AND just for those who have absolutely no idea what’s going on, I’ll explain it.

So, basically around three weeks ago I wrote and posted a smut fic on AO3 about two characters from Jackson’s Diary (if you don’t know what it is, it’s a Webtoon) and I immediately received an ENORMOUS amount of backlash, due to the fact the one of the characters was 17 - ergo, underage. I thought “well, that’s a reasonable thing to get titchy about”, so I re-tagged the work and stated in the A/N that the specific character was aged up a couple months, just to smoothen everything out. But, SURPRISE, it didn’t work. I started getting more backlash, which then turned into hate. It just kept coming and coming. At this point I was like “Jesus, how does one short fic cause all this?”. Then I received several requests (actually no, orders) to take the work down. Now, I’m new to writing fanfiction. I’ve been into reading it for maybe 4 years now, but I’ve only just started publishing works and this is the first fandom that I’ve officially joined, and I didn’t know that specific people had power over what I can and can’t write, sooo...yeah. But then, things took a turn.

I was scrolling through the fandom one day when I found a post titled “Please stop”. I was curious and clicked on it, only to find that it wasn’t an actual fanfic but a call-out post, telling all the people (aka me) who post smut fics (I literally posted ONE) to stop because it’s a.) disgusting, b.) is a basic representation of pedophilia and c.) is basically child p*rnography. Now I was astonished at these accusations. I aged up ONE character by a couple months, now I’m being called a pedophile? I explained that I myself am a minor, even younger than the underaged character, but of course that didn’t change anything. I tried to explain politely in the comments section that I didn’t mean anybody any harm whatsoever, and I was then harassed (and that’s not an overstatement) by several people, being told to take it down. So, my naive little brain couldn’t take it anymore so I took the work down. I then posted an apology. Now the reason I did this was not because I regretted writing the work, no no, it was just to stop all the goddamn disgusting comments about me. But it turns out I’d only added fuel to the fire.

I started receiving even more vile comments, some including death threats, others untruthful accusations about how I was a groomer or a child sexual abuser, others just calling me the most disgusting person alive. This had a serious effect on my mental health. I’m naturally a very happy person. I love making people laugh. I love making people smile and feel good about themselves, but now I felt like shit! I felt like I was all the things people were calling me. I was told to kill myself because everyone hated me. I don’t think there was a single supportive or positive comment on that post. I left it up for ages, until one day I came across a comment (from the same person who posted the “Please stop” fic) talking about a TikTok video about it. And I thought...”oh no”.

I IMMEDIATELY got my ass over to TikTok and saw the video, and...let’s just say I didn’t take it well. The comments were...unexplainable. Calling me the most vile words a person can be called. Accusing me of pedophilia, for the thousandth time! So many comments...horrible things said by people who don’t even know me! Judgement of my character, of my virtues, and they just kept coming. Then there was ANOTHER post by the same account, which then brought in MORE hurtful comments. By then I’d had enough. I had a full-on mental breakdown, trashing literally everything. Then anxiety started. I’m still in school, and I kept thinking “what if somebody at my school knows I did this?”. I started becoming anxious all the time, and it was all I thought about. Until somebody actually supported me and posted about the whole thing on Tumblr, which brought in SO many wonderful people! And I’ve tried explaining it to people on TikTok and AO3, but nobody will listen. But here I know people will listen. I’m sorry for sharing my whole boring story with you all, and by the way, it’s still ongoing so if you want to go have a look, it’s still up on AO3 with more comments every day!

But yeah, I just wanted to say that I really appreciate all my supporters in this difficult time, you really do make my day.

[lefluoritesys]

We have known we're a system for over 2 years now. It's been a very long ride, and one of the most important parts of this ride was figuring out methods and ways to function as a system. There have been many mistakes we've made that we're also not the only ones making. But one of the hardest things I find to explain would be that there are no universal answers to your experiences, and there will be no universal solution. What might work for one person might not work for another. It seems obvious, but in practicality, when it comes to DID/OSDD, systems seem to forget that, and I understand why. Whether it be validation, desire to relate, or just feeling lost. So here's a little story from our IRL life that is completely unrelated to any DID/OSDD covering subject, but makes sense when you put it in the context of functional multiplicity:

We love coffee. Absolutely love coffee, specifically cappuccino. I wouldn't say we're addicts, but we drink it almost every day. However, that wasn't always the case. In about Autumn of 2021, we have discovered that when we drink our favorite coffee, it terribly and drastically affects our mood. We still have no idea what it is. If we were happy and calm before we drank coffee, it would flip our mood completely, and we'd become so anxious, we would have multiple panic attacks for no reason. And vice versa. It devastated us because it seemed to happen every single time we drank coffee. And we loved coffee, still do! The thought of cutting it out completely made us upset. There had to be some sort of explanation to what we're experiencing, but no one would give us an answer! People with ADHD drink a lot of coffee to help them calm their ADHD down, for neurotypicals, it's the opposite. Some people drink a lot of it, multiple cups a day, and somehow stay fine, some drink it before bed to sleep better... nobody could give us an answer as to what we're experiencing, and for a while, that was that.

One day, though, I (host) was going to a cafe to do a school project. The library wasn't working that day, and we desperately needed to work, so we thought a cafe with noise-canceling headphones would be alright. As I got to that cafe, stood near the baristas, I was thinking about how coffee affects me, and although I really want it, I don't want to deal with genuinely horrible consequences. So I grabbed the lowest amount available and hoped for the best... And I showed no previous symptoms. I admit, I kinda stared at it, thinking... that was the problem the whole time? We used to grab medium, and so it bit us in the ass? Apparently, yes. The problem was with the amount. So now, we are not drinking any more than a certain amount of coffee, usually grabbing the lowest amount cafes provide, and we haven’t had problems since. We feel great, even have a favorite cafe now where we became a regular, and we drink coffee every day now. Could even get multiple cups during different times of the day and still not have it affect us much!

Now apply that same logic for when you try to find ways to function and/or help your system. Our experience with coffee is not universal, but we found something that works for us. Some people chug so much caffeine, we are genuinely scared for their health. Some others don't drink it at all, which is also fine. Some drink it before bed or to manage their ADHD. And some drink it from time to time as a treat. Some like lattes, some like black coffee, and somebody else likes iced. All of those are fine. It seems like a weird parallel, and how can I compare a disorder to coffee? But I am not comparing a disorder to coffee, I am comparing the behavior towards coffee to the behavior towards your system. Just as there is no right amount or way to drink coffee, there isn't a right way to be/function as a system. Everybody's experience and feelings towards it are absolutely unique, that's what makes them special. And going after somebody for their coffee preference is weird and rude. Especially telling them what they should drink instead. Why is it suddenly not the same for systems?

For the love of Gods, do not repeat our mistakes and try to be a certain way just for other people's validation. Good people will never, ever judge you for being who you are. There's a whole world of people that are gonna look at you weird, and there's a whole world of people who aren't. Find the people who aren't! /ref

Have a good coffee/tea/juice/etc day.

-host

[longitudinalwaveme]

Roscoe Dillon's Psychiatric Assement

I decided to do a psychological evaluation for The Top (Roscoe Dillon), and make it as accurate to a real-world evaluation as was feasible for a guy who's canonically a ghost.

I do not have a doctorate in psychology and cannot diagnose real people, but I am working on my master's in psychology and feel reasonably capable of diagnosing a fictional person who cannot be harmed by my diagnosis if I am wrong.

I tried to be as accurate as possible in my presentation of all conditions included---but feel free to correct me if I made any horrible mistakes.

TW for: Mental health problems; suicide; the Dillon family's horrible ideas about mental health

Iron Heights Penitentiary

1961 Broome Street 

Central City, MO 

Complete Evaluation: Adam Brooks, M.D.

Date of Exam: 7/31/2019

Time of Exam: 4:45:22 PM 

Patient Name: Dillon, Roscoe Neyle

Patient Number: 111044554

History: Roscoe Dillon is a 36-year-old male prisoner of Iron Heights Penitentiary. He is currently unmarried and has no children, but he is in a long-term relationship with a woman named Lisa Snart. He was referred to me by Correctional Officer Robert Morrison after he attempted to hang himself in his cell. This attempt left him unconscious for two days, and it was only after he woke up that I was able to begin the process of evaluation. 

Roscoe’s chief complaint was, quote, that “I am a failure, and therefore the tops have turned against me”, and stated that his motivation for his attempted suicide was his belief that he had failed his girlfriend, Lisa, as well as, quote, “my own lofty expectations of myself”. Roscoe also describes and displays symptoms of a mood disorder, with psychotic features, and specifically reported symptoms of depression. While he was unable to provide me with a coherent explanation of how long his symptoms have lasted, Correctional Officer Morrison reports that he has been chronically displaying symptoms since he was incarcerated in Iron Heights Penitentiary nine months ago.

Current Symptoms: Roscoe reports a depressed mood, a loss of pleasure in spinning his tops, problems with his appetite (“I did not realize until recently, but I do not think I have eaten more than a meal a day in quite some time”), difficulty in concentrating, feelings of worthlessness, and a death wish, the latter of which precipitated his attempted suicide. Correctional Officer Morrison also reports that when he is on guard duty, he sees Roscoe sleep only rarely, suggesting a level of insomnia. Roscoe himself was unable to confirm this, but did admit that he thought it was quite likely that he “had not been sleeping well of late”. He attributed this disruption in his sleep to racing, anxious thoughts. Roscoe also reports extreme agitation and a general inability to keep still, which he displayed throughout the evaluation in the form of rocking back and forth in his seat. Also throughout the evaluation, he displayed extremely pressured speech. It was often difficult to understand what he was attempting to say, and this communication barrier seemed to add to his agitation throughout. 

Suicidality: Roscoe attempted suicide three days ago, and, while he has not actively attempted suicide since, he has not expressed a desire to live. 

Prior Manic/Depressive Episodes: Roscoe has had four prior manic episodes and four prior depressive episodes, three of which involved an attempted suicide. During his first major manic episode, he threatened to blow up half the world with a spinning atomic grenade unless he was made king of the world. 

Severity/Complexity: Based on the risk of morbidity without treatment, his personal descriptions and the descriptions of Correctional Officer Morrison of interference with his functioning, his psychotic symptoms, and his recent attempted suicide, Roscoe’s Bipolar Disorder is estimated to be severe. 

Associated Signs and Symptoms: In addition to his mood symptoms,  Roscoe also displays a number of symptoms of psychosis. He demonstrated mood-congruent delusions of failure, as well as a delusion of passivity, claiming that, quote, “the tops are punishing me for my failures. They are the ones who are making everything spin and spin and spin”. Besides these delusions, Roscoe also reported visual hallucinations, in the form of distorting shapes and colors and the world around him spinning in a fashion that is similar to what might be experienced by an individual with vertigo, and auditory hallucinations, in the form of his father, girlfriend, and girlfriend’s brother talking to him while he was in his cell alone. Furthermore, while Roscoe’s speech was generally organized enough to be comprehensible, he frequently made top puns, and references to rotation and spinning, that had seemingly little relevance to the topics that were being discussed. Roscoe seems to have a degree of insight into his condition, stating that, quote, “I am quite aware that I am mad”, but not to the extent that he recognizes that his delusions of failure and passivity are irrational. 

Past Psychiatric History

Withdrawal History: While Roscoe reports a fondness for fine wines, he also claims that he has never experienced serious withdrawal from any substance, and there is no available evidence to contradict this assertion. 

Psychiatric Hospitalization: Roscoe was briefly psychiatrically hospitalized after an attempted suicide at the age of seventeen, but was removed after only two weeks. This was done at the behest of his parents and over the protest of at least one of the nurses at the facility. He has also been hospitalized in the prison infirmary for mental health problems twice before, once as the result of a manic episode and once as the result of a depressive episode.

Outpatient Treatment: Roscoe has never received outpatient treatment. 

Suicidal/Self Injuries: As previously mentioned, Roscoe has attempted suicide four times. At the age of seventeen, he deliberately overdosed on his parents’ prescription medicine, and was only saved because his mother found his body thirty minutes afterward. At the age of twenty-four, he attempted to jump off of a bridge but was stopped by an off-duty firefighter, who tackled him to the ground before he could actually carry his plans out. At the age of twenty-nine, Roscoe died of a brain hemorrhage induced by the combination of his newly-developed telekinetic powers and the Flash’s super-speed vibrations, but was able to return to life via the possession of several corpse bodies, which he modifies to resemble his own. Due to his unusual manner of existing, his fourth attempted suicide, which he carried out at the age of thirty-two, was actually a completed suicide, in the sense that he deliberately abandoned his host body in order to return to an incorporeal state, and, had he not subsequently possessed a new host body, this psychiatric assessment would never have occurred. While all of this sounds impossible, it has been repeatedly and independently verified by several doctors, police scientist Barry Allen, several other members of the police force, and a coroner, so I am forced to accept the story as true. His most recent suicide attempt occurred two days ago; he attempted to hang himself in his cell with his bedsheets and was only saved by the quick actions of Correctional Officer Morrison. Roscoe does not appear to engage in non-suicidal self injury. 

Addiction History: Roscoe vehemently denies any history of substance abuse, and, while it is clear that he drinks a number of alcoholic beverages, there is not sufficient evidence to prove that he has any substance abuse problems. 

Psychotropic Medication History: Roscoe has been prescribed lithium by previous doctors, and does take it with at least some regularity when he is not in prison. Due to what I can only assume was an organizational oversight, however, he has not had access to lithium since he arrived at Iron Heights Penitentiary nine months ago (as confirmed by Correctional Officer Morrison).

Other Psychiatric History: Roscoe has been psychologically evaluated twice before whilst incarcerated. He has previously been diagnosed with Bipolar 1 Disorder, which is consistent with his current symptoms, as well as with Autism Spectrum Disorder. These previous psychological evaluations indicate that, when he is not in the midst of a mood episode, Roscoe struggles with social communication and interaction, and evidently has since he was a child. Although he doesn’t seem to understand why, he is aware that he has never had many friends, and he reports, quote, that “I did not like school. The children there made fun of my tops.” He also engages in stereotypies (rocking, hand waving, and especially spinning), particularly when distressed, and has an intense, nearly all-consuming interest in tops. He can monologue about tops for hours on end, and will do so if you allow it. Roscoe is also averse to loud noises and adheres to a variety of strict eating, washing, and dressing routines. In spite of all this, Roscoe insistently denies that he is on the autism spectrum, and will angrily insist that he is, quote, “neither a freak nor retarded” when the topic is brought up around him. 

While his severe mood episode likely obscured most of his autistic symptoms, I did notice his rocking in his chair, and I likewise noted that his speech, although rapid and pressured, was also quite stiff (bordering on monotonic) and formal. He insisted on referring to me as “Dr. Adam Brooks” throughout the evaluation. He also only made eye contact once during the evaluation, and the contact he did make was sustained and intense enough that it was clearly not a natural behavior for him. His apparent fascination with tops might also explain the persistent top puns that littered his speech, as well as why he specifically believes that tops, rather than any other object, are punishing him. 

Social/Developmental History 

Roscoe Dillon is a single, 36-year-old man. He is American, and, although he was born in New York City, he and his family moved to the suburbs of Central City when he was eight years old, and he has lived in the Central/Keystone area ever since. He has a long history of criminal activity. He has been arrested more than four dozen times, most commonly for grand theft and armed robbery, and has been incarcerated on six separate occasions, although he has served out only one complete sentence. He is notorious for escaping from prison, and his repeated deaths also have put an early end to some of his sentences. Currently, he is serving a ten-year sentence for armed robbery, with possibility of parole, but the chances are extremely high that he will escape from prison well before the end of his sentence. I only hope that he doesn’t do so through suicide.

Relationship/Marriage: Roscoe is in a long-term relationship with Lisa Snart. She was once an Olympic-level figure skater who performed for the Futura Ice Company, but became involved in a life of crime shortly after Roscoe’s first death. She is currently incarcerated in the women’s wing of Iron Heights Penitentiary. In spite of this, the two appear to have a mostly functional and healthy romantic relationship. That being said, Roscoe’s intense level of attachment to Lisa is worrying; his primary motivation for attempting suicide was the belief that she would be happier if he was dead, and he also noted that if anything ever happened to her, he would probably kill himself. 

Children: Roscoe has no children.

Barriers to Treatment

Emotional: While I have not personally evaluated Roscoe before, other prison psychiatrists who have worked with him state that he is violently opposed to the idea that he might be mentally ill or in need of treatment. This appears to stem from a belief that admitting to mental illness would be tantamount to admitting to being incompetent or a failure. He has also stated that he only takes lithium because Lisa, his girlfriend, asks that he do so. His current psychotic symptoms, which limit his insight, are another potential barrier to treatment, but these will be addressed via the treatment plan. 

Environmental: Warden Gregory Wolfe strictly limits the number of patients who are permitted to attend therapy sessions with me. Getting Roscoe approved for therapy will likely prove very difficult.

Family History

Roscoe’s maternal great-uncle, Rufus Neyle, was repeatedly hospitalized for Bipolar 1 disorder. Previous evaluations of Roscoe strongly suggest that the Dillon and Neyle families viewed this as shameful and did everything they could to cover it up. 

Roscoe’s maternal aunt, Rachel Dylan (neé Neyle), received outpatient treatment for major depressive disorder. Previous evaluations of Roscoe indicate that Roscoe’s father described his aunt as, quote, “weak” for seeking treatment for her condition. 

Roscoe’s first cousin, Ralph Dylan, is known to have been diagnosed with autism spectrum disorder.  Previous evaluations of Roscoe strongly suggest that his parents viewed this as an embarrassment; Roscoe evidently claimed that his father once referred to this cousin as, quote, “a retarded freak”; this likely contributes to Roscoe’s vehement denial that he is himself on the autism spectrum. 

Roscoe’s paternal grandfather, Roland Dillon, is suspected to have had major depressive disorder. He is also known to have committed suicide at the age of 52. Previous evaluations of Roscoe indicate that his father, Reginald Dillon, perceived this as having brought shame on the family name. 

Roscoe’s mother, Rosa Dillon (neé Neyle), is suspected to have anxiety and a potential alcohol abuse disorder. Previous evaluations of Roscoe suggest that she often seemed quite anxious and agitated, and he has stated that she often drank wine to, quote, “calm her nerves”. Roscoe has also claimed that his father did not know of this, or at least refused to admit that he did. 

Family psychiatric history is otherwise negative. There is no other history of psychiatric disorders, psychiatric treatment or hospitalization, suicidal behaviors or substance abuse in closely related family members.

Medical History

Adverse Drug Reactions: None known. 

Allergies: None known. 

Compliance: Roscoe is notorious for non-compliance with medical instructions. While he does take lithium fairly regularly, at his girlfriend’s bequest, he never attends outpatient therapy when not incarcerated, and attempts to avoid therapy while incarcerated as much as he can, even to the point of getting himself sent to solitary confinement rather than having to attend therapy sessions. He seems to despise psychologists and psychiatrists on principle, and is known to make attacks on their professional competency when he disagrees with their assessment of his mental state (which is quite often). As a result, his mental health problems generally go mostly untreated. 

 Some of this hostility likely stems from the fact that Roscoe’s first psychological evaluation whilst incarcerated came at the hands of Jonathan Crane, a psychologist who was later stripped of his medical license for experimenting on his patients with an unregulated drug of his own invention. This drug, which the newspapers dubbed “Fear Toxin”,  was a blend of synthetic cortisol, epinephrine, norepinephrine, indolealkylamines, phenylethylamines, arylcyclohexylamines, serotonin inhibitors, and dopamine enhancers, and was used to induce fear-based hallucinations in its victims. While it cannot be conclusively proven, the evidence seems to suggest that Roscoe was subjected to this drug as a part of the “evaluation” given to him by Crane, and if this assumption is correct, I fear that Roscoe cannot be entirely blamed for his distrust of the psychiatric profession. 

Exam: Roscoe Dillon is six feet tall, and, when healthy, weighs around 175 to 180 pounds. When I evaluated him, however, he was badly underweight, weighing only about 147 pounds. His hair and clothes were noticeably disheveled, he had dark circles under his eyes. His body language and  his facial features displayed obvious distress and depression. He seemed agitated throughout the evaluation and repeatedly rocked back and forth in his chair. He almost never made eye contact. He exhibited speech that was rapid and pressured—almost to the point of incomprehensibility at times—but which was otherwise properly articulated and generally coherent. His affect was congruent with his mood, and his conversation revealed clear evidence of delusions of failure and passivity, as well as of visual and auditory hallucinations. Except when discussing his specific delusions and hallucinations, his associations were intact, his thinking was logical, and his thought content appeared appropriate. Roscoe’s suicidal intentions were undeniable, given the bruises that were still around his neck from his attempt to hang himself, but he no longer appeared to be actively suicidal. He also denied any specific homicidal ideas or intentions. Roscoe’s cognitive functioning, vocabulary, and fund of knowledge are intact and age-appropriate, and his short-term and long-term memory and ability to abstract are likewise intact. His ability to do arithmetic calculations is not only intact but is bordering on the genius range, which is consistent with his general talent for engineering and inventing. Roscoe is oriented to person, place, time, and situation. Judgment is fair, but is compromised by his psychotic symptoms. Roscoe’s insight into his problems is not completely absent, but is severely limited by his mood episode and psychotic symptoms. There are also signs of autism spectrum disorder, but at present these are largely overwhelmed by his mood and psychotic symptoms. 

Diagnoses 

F31.5 [296.54] Bipolar 1 Disorder, currently depressive, severe with mood-congruent and mood-incongruent  psychotic features. 

F84.0 [299.0] Autism Spectrum Disorder, requiring support.  

Instructions/Recommendations:

The patient should be confined to the infirmary until further notice, because the patient was very recently actively suicidal, and is still in the midst of a severe depressive episode with psychotic features. I will conduct therapy within the infirmary. 

Once the patient has recovered to the point that he is no longer clearly psychotic or a suicide risk, I strongly recommend weekly therapy sessions, even if this is unlikely to take place due to Roscoe’s notorious tendency to avoid therapy at any cost. 

Start 600 mg of Lithium, 2 to 3 times/day. Roscoe has Bipolar 1 disorder and a history of suicide attempts; he should have been on lithium from the second he came through the penitentiary doors. I don’t know what oversight caused this, but this problem needs to be resolved now. 

Start 3 mg of Risperidone, once a day. This is for the psychotic symptoms. 

Notes and Risk Factors: 

Global Assessment of Functioning: 12

Risk Factors: 

Z62.881 [V15.42] Psychological Abuse in Childhood 

While never confirmed, almost every mention of his parents Roscoe has made indicates that his father was demanding, perfectionistic, critical, and verbally abusive when Roscoe did not live up to his expectations. 

Z65.1 [V62.5] Imprisonment or Other Incarceration 

Serving ten-year sentence for armed robbery (with possibility of parole) in Iron Heights Penitentiary 

Z72.881 [V71.01] Adult Antisocial Behavior 

1. Roscoe is a career criminal. While he sometimes commits crimes alone, he more often works alongside his girlfriend, Lisa, or in tandem with an organized group of costumed criminals known as “the Rogues”. 

Electronically Signed 

Adam Brooks, M.D.

On: 7/31/2019, 9:45:24 PM 

[krushkreates]

i was there when the rain tapped the way down your face

based on big black car by gregory alan isakov,

aka elliott being the best friend and comforting sunshine during their worst heartbreak while having to pick up his own broken heart in the process

pre-confession elliott and sunshine

read here

He knew something was wrong.

His phone had been cold the past three days. The suspicious lack of texts and daily updates from Sunshine’s garden steadily loomed over him. A squall slowly formed in his mind as he habitually checked his phone again. With a frustrated huff, he turned the thing off and shoved it into his pocket. Why was he so irritated by this? He knew they’d be on a trip with their boyfriend. It was their anniversary yesterday, and they went on it early, since Sunshine couldn’t take that day off from work.

Elliott ran his fingers through his hair in a pitiful attempt to calm himself down. there wasn’t a reason for him to be so worried. It’s not like something was horribly wrong. granted, he didn’t particularly look forward to that specific day. The familiar ache in his chest burned numbly, a full reminder that he wasn’t supposed to think of sunshine like that. They were his best friend. They had a boyfriend, for god’s sake. They were happy with him and as long as Elliott got to be their best friend, that’s all that mattered.

So why did he feel so on edge? The hair on the back of his neck had stood up for the past few days. The air around him felt like the tension right before a lightning strike. He was anxious. He was impulsively picking his cuticles again, something he knew sunshine would chastise him about. The thought of hearing them say “you have to stop doing that, it’s so bad for you” as they would grab his hands and hold them to stop him brought a small smile to his face. He missed them a lot, and while it would sting to hear how wonderful the trip was, Elliott wouldn’t care as long as he got to hear his love’s voice: his own aural ambrosia.

In the past 72 hours, sleep’s comes fitfully for sunshine. every type of stability in their life has been crashed into. The waves finally eroded the limestone columns, the chunks of it hitting their cheeks. The tears are acrid and acid, staining their face and burning their eyes a vibrant shade of red. The phone’s nearly dead and sunshine has the vague feeling that they feel a bit like that cold piece of metal they discarded on their desk. The floorboards warp and wobble their feet under them. It’s a feeling that makes them feel seasick on dry land. A lifelong sailor that finds themselves stranded on an island, unable to feel the calm rocking of the waves that stabilized them for so long.

On the fourth day of bleeding onto the floor, their fingers subconsciously sought out the comfort that was four floors down. Trembling fingertips and lips accompanied an equally trembling voice and breath.

“Hello? Sunshine? Are you there?” The waves stopped momentarily and the sinkhole that threatened to swallow them closed its gaping maw.

“Hi.” It was small. Cowering in pain and fear and Elliott felt a strike of lightning hit him with such a force. The world lit up in a flash of yellow and purple and settled into a bright crimson. Before either could say anything, feet thundered and rumbled the stairs, breaths of anger and protection exited him and pounding wood sounded. He swore the air became more humid in a moment and the portal to hell opened.

They stared at him, eyes wide, a deer. An injured animal, with blood on the floor and tracks leading from the scene of the crime. Their open wound barely staunched by tissues littering the floor, and the dam broke. Shrieking echoed in his chest, agony dripping onto his shirt, the two of them embraced and sunk to the floor. Betrayal scented the home that had been haphazardly torn apart with a relish so evil it nearly made him keel over from the pungent smell of backstabbing and decay.

They trembled violently through the torrent, fingertips carving themselves into his skin. Waves crashed into them, the only lifeline being the familiarity of those calm waves they could feel underneath it all. The screaming and battle that resulted in deep wounds died a slow, agonizing death. The world closed for another 96 hours to reconcile with the carnage and carcass that was so raw.

Through heaving sobs and waves of confession, they wove the deceitful tale that made Hamlet seem like child’s play. Caesar was not worthy of standing next to them in the words of love, betrayal and not just from one pillar of their life, but two. Friend and boyfriend, acting as agents of deceit, parasites of good faith. Fair weathering the one person they knew would let them both into their home and rot it from the inside out.

Elliott’s muscles were sore the next day from keeping himself still enough to listen through the red that covered his vision and roared in his ears. 106 hours of heartache had suddenly been worth it.

And burning his stuff had been good for the two of them too.

[tumbloggingattheendofitall]

Hi I know I sound insane but like what if we agreed nobody films their next show

Don't misunderstand me

I know they haven't even actually announced a Next One as of this exact moment

But

Hi I'm stupid and crazy but what if that's the point

What if "my chemical romance is more than a band" has more application than just the number of new songs, or whatever?

What if Gerard's known frustration with video becoming largely a ubiquitous party of playing a show combined with all their other stated reasons and they're waiting for us to graduate to the Biggest Picture yet - that the Idea, which they espouse as gospel is actually just Being in and of The Moment

Like don't get me wrong I love the archival footage but what if they're savvy to that and just want all of us to let go of the control that filming (in spite of venue regulations almost always) provides

What if the only time that's actually holding back the next thing is us collectively being so separation anxious that we can't stop filming, to the point they're paying for that in their personal lives in a way the collective would all agree is intrusive

What I'm saying is I Am A MyChem Fan and some of my secret theories panned out tonight, while the Big One Didn't so I do invite you to disagree, However I have a new and more well-rounded theory that makes me actually believe more strongly in MCR5 and that might seem silly but after watching tonight, I have two central thoughts

They want to (and likely have been already) work together again to make music

They don't generally appreciate some aspects of modernism like the thing where we now know about Gerard's lyric flub in the end and his subsequent anxiety about it

Like I'm just saying maybe the MCRmy needs to actually work against the band culture of the last decade and agree that we come together, fan club style

Back in the day, bootlegs existed. And when VCR became a thing, filmed bootlegs also became a thing, but even excusing that, we've always wanted to save the Thing.

But back in the day, so to speak, I'm just thinking that, my mom and dad both always talked about a specific person (whose name or "name" they've still never shared) who provided bootlegs of their significant Date Night concerts

And like. I know it's silly and stupid but what if we became what the fanclubs of old tried for and found, say 3 people in the fandom with exclusive filming right for a given performance and then forget agreed to gently discourage finding by anyone but the hypothetical 3

What I'm saying doesn't actually make sense but let me add another hypothetical

Picture being Just A Guy whose lyrics happened to hit with the music and all of a sudden you're dealing with the awakening of the Internet on top of the Standard Hero Band Journey of the time. And then imagine that you're trying to do something new by being more authentic to encourage people to not make horribly addictive decisions, but that not only adds fame, now makes it actively impossible to disengage from the culture because you wanted to have this platform to encourage people to do better but you never wanted to be the Personal Face of what others consider Better because (for whatever reason) you feel and/or know that you're not Better so you think maybe dipping is better

Estival cause it worked for your heros

But then life and turn-of-a-century plus technically leads to finishing returns and Way Too Many People having Even Your Most Intimate Performances at their fingertips

What I'm saying is maybe we appreciate the ways that the Before Times can clubs worked - they worked for and with the bands, but it never excluded the valuable message of the given band

Maybe we create and create and become a community that agrees that regardless of our fandom and Opinions on Same, we all want More, and we will all be technically dense and In The Moment at the next show unless we're the (however many) agreed-to streamers, and we'll collectively but gently reinforce that only those 2-6 people can film the name without being paid

What I'm saying is that most early bootlegs of any given entertainer were created and then further curated by the band and their willingness for outside influence

What I'm saying is if this post gets 5 likes is at least 50% understanding where I'm coming from, then Imma build an Actual Fan Club with a central Club manifest that might actually lead to changes in the culture for At Least MCR's already-scarce blessings upon their fans

[kimtaegis]

my brother came here with his girlfriend and his mother-in-law and they all asked me to go with them when they leave, to spend two days in a house with pool and they would also get out at night to explore some places etc etc... they already know how antisocial i am, so they jokingly said "we came for you, there's no discussion, we decided this for you, let's go"

gosh, it's so hard saying no :( but i really didn't want to go... and i know i sound like a fool when i say this, but with jungkook's last live around the corner.. i really don't wanna lose it. i already didn't want to go before in any way, this is a plus, but i can't go and say that this is also a reason for me to stay home, people don't understand, right? i don't feel comfortable or relaxed with my family, they don't even know my real personality or my real tastes... i also wouldn't even want to go to a pool because i hate it, i don't like showing my body anymore

but why can't people just accept "i'm not going because i don't want to"? my sister-in-law said it was okay, but she also said "why are you like this?" :/

i know i hurt people when i do those things, but i'd rather do that than going without will, so i'd be hurting myself instead... anyway, to not make things worse, i said that i'd go in january instead (spoiler: i'd rather never go, but...)

I can feel for you so, so much 😕 I’ve found myself in similar situations before, and most of the time you either end up feeling uncomfortable because you had to force yourself or the other party will be disappointed… it’s a super difficult situation which requires so much communication, empathy and compromise from both sides. they want to be with you because they care about and love you, and think that they’re doing something nice by taking you out of your ‘zone’ for a while. you yourself could see this as a little, very temporary getaway, a new memory that most likely won’t turn out as bad as you expect, and you would also make them happy if you go with them. however, though, they can’t make decisions for you, and if they love you, they should also respect your wishes and needs. plus, while stepping out of your comfort zone can be good, you shouldn’t pressure yourself to do so, but do it at your own will. I won’t deny that sometimes a little kick in the butt is needed to take a step in a new direction, but if it makes you as anxious as you sounded to me, then you’re simply not ready for that just now. I think what’s super important is to explain to them that you not wanting to go has nothing to do with them directly; I think that’s very likely the first conclusion many would jump to (why do they not want to spend time with me/us specifically). if you feel comfortable, tell them what the actual issue is – you needing to be somewhere where you feel safe right now, you not wanting to miss out on something that’s important to you these days, you not feeling particularly confident lately. I can only talk from my own experience, but being honest has always been the best solution in these situations for me. maybe then it’s easier for them to understand, or at least respect “why you are like this” (it’s fucking horrible that she said that to you, I’m sorry). all these sides can kind of coexist which make these dilemmas even harder. I can’t even tell what I would do if I was you /: it depends on so many factors…

by now you’re probably on the trip, or not… I’m sorry I replied so late. I’m thinking of you and hope that however everything turned out, it was alright.

[quaranmine]

actually analyzing this further for no particular reason on a wednesday morning in the office but i think this is actually a symptom of the original burnout that i mentioned in the first sentence!

that was back in 2015-2016, and maybe a bit of 2017. that was when i was horribly sick in high school. when i was waking up like eleven times a night (when did i ever sleep????) and sometimes sleeping on the bathroom floor, when my anemia was absolutely critical, when i weighed 81 lbs and was on the verge of being hospitalized for my weight loss, and when everything i ate caused me pain. and the entire time I just....never stopped going to school. i missed one (1) day due to being sick from my chronic illness. i missed several half days for doctor's appointments, and i was often late, but even if i cried on the bathroom floor and threw up at 6am i went anyway. and i was a straight A student!! i was taking COLLEGE classes (not AP; actual college enrollment) and making straight As on them too! i was participating in academic competitions. i went to state in art competitions twice. except for my parents, and toward the very end a few teachers, not a single other person had any clue how horribly ill i was, constantly.

to this day i do NOT know how i did any of that. i can't do it again. Any major stress or stumble in my health I'm just like *collapses and dies* i drew from energy i didn't even have and basically from the moment i got well again my body was like ahahahhaah never doing that again! It's 2023, I've been in remission for 6 years at this point. I'm still immunocompromised due to my meds and will likely been on some kind of treatment all my life (it's an autoimmune disease, it's not curable) but I am well now and have been for a while. I'm healthy! More or less!

but ever since it's just....oh you have 3 mildly stressful tasks? nope, body and brain just kind of can't handle it. It's hard to explain but there's a specific moment where your focus slips away because your brain just hits a wall and says nope, I refuse to give you any critical thought past this point. I cashed in all my favors 6 years ago, and I don't get any more. Maybe eventually I will, but adult life is stressful.

I HAVE done really well for myself since in college and at work and in the rest of high school so this is not really noticeable to other people. I am still a high achiever so maybe this introspective seems strange. but I can't tell you how many times I've been like. Why can't I handle stress like a normal person? Do other people feel so overwhelmed over simple things? Why, I don't even have much pressure on me and I'm freaking out? It would take like an hour to do this, why am I so exhausted. It really undermines your sense of work ethic because you feel you can't complain, because to most people there's seriously not that much on your plate. Like oh the task you were stressed about took 4 hours? It made you, God forbid, think a little? boo-hoo. It makes you feel lazy.

anyway, believe it or not i actually had a good and productive and mostly-not-anxious day yesterday! i am just realizing again that oh yeah, i hit that wall again. it just tricks me because i always feel like i shouldn't hit it. so many people do more and deal with more all the time, but that's not me.

also i realize i wrote this in a way that makes me seem completely exhausted and unable to do anything, which is not true. i will be able to finish everything I have to. i just find everything is frustratingly vague and it's surprisingly difficult to do things i know are simple. catch me taking comedically long to add 49+50......

i'm not like burnt-out burnt-out (i've been there before and it's not this) but i do feel like my mind has reached its limit of things for me to deal with out of the past month and just said ok! and stopped. nothing else happening up there folks. i get faced with something that takes like 3 seconds of critical thinking and my brain stutters for a full minute before coming up with something coherent.

unfortunately for me, the rest of the world does not stop along with it, so i still have many things to do. i will continue to have many things to do for a several weeks probably. i think this is where much of the anxiety (right now; it'll be something different later lol) stems from

[acedumbb]

(I wrote this in 10 minutes, so it must be horribly translated, sorry about that :((( )

(My best attempt at a one shot soft, let it show I'm terrible at shit sfw)

(HELP I NEVER USE TUMBLR FROM MOBILE AAAAAA)

A One Shot of Jotaro pt3 in love with a gentle Male!Reader.

cw;; smoking, slight mention of anxiety problems.

(y/n) had always been kind, charismatic and gentle, that is why he had earned the place as one of the most popular in the class, but he had never had as many people behind him as Jotaro Kujo did, he wanted to know his secret, how did he captivate so many people like that? So when he found out not only that he had a stand but that he was going to Egypt to fight other Stand users, he did not hesitate to volunteer.

At first (y/n) was jealous of JoJo's position, but after a while he realized that he was only curious about him, a mysterious attraction that forced him to keep an eye on the black-haired man all the time, he wanted to know what he was thinking, so it was clear that that was his goal, to read Jotaro Kujo's mind, to know what his way of seeing the world was, to understand his way of thinking, something that many would give as an impossible goal.

Surprisingly, he managed to win the trust and favor of the Crusaders easily, he even started to get along with them, and his impossible goal to read JoJo's mind was past history, he had completely forgotten it, now he was only there for them. Because it would be an injustice for Jotaro's mother to die like that, he wanted to help them.

And over time he joined the group, pranking others with Polnareff, playing video games with Kakyoin, and Joseph and Avdol always had something to discuss as a group, so of course, even though he had forgotten his previous goal, he still had reason to want to. get closer to JoJo.

Of course, when he had the opportunity to spend one night sharing a hotel room with Jotaro I do not doubt it and accept it, until now they had not had many dialogues, although he did not doubt that Jotaro felt something similar to him, since there not ​had been few occasions in which he had noticed the special attention that the black-haired man paid him at all times

— Jotaro, these are not hours to smoke..

— That does not concern you.

He sighed deeply, he was a bit bothered by the frequency with which the boy smoked, not only did he do it, which was bad in itself, but also that he was able to smoke several packs a day, which if he continued like this would seriously ruin his health.

— Why do you do it?

— Uhm? Do what?

— Smoking, people smoke when they feel bad, so I wanted to know if... you feel bad right now...

— ...Not right now.

(y/n) realized that as the opposite face was blushing, putting out the cigarette he had in his mouth, Jotaro lowered his cap a little, trying to hide his blush.

— ...I have an idea, if you feel bad, you can tell me, and I will try to cheer you up, so you won't feel so bad, what do you think?

So they quietly signed a contract, whenever Kujo needs it he would be there, inevitably both were excited about that, although the way they showed it was different.

So the days passed, against more enemies they fought, and at that moment they had thought of eating in a restaurant before going to the hotel, but Jotaro refused the food and went to his room directly, Joseph did not mind that, (y/n) wanted to accompany the boy since they both shared a room.

— JoJo?

Jotaro felt a chill when he heard the other's soft voice, he shrunk a little, he had gone out to smoke on the balcony of the room, he was somewhat ashamed that (y/n) will find him smoking, although of course, he would have been more ashamed tell him I was a little anxious.

— You're smoking? Bad boy, don't you remember what we talked about?

He jumped a bit from surprise when he felt that the minor was holding his hand, specifically the one he used to hold the cigarette, gently (y/n) slid over to the cigarette, grabbing it and then pulling it down, leaving Jotaro paralyzed, no one in his entire life, had ever dared to hold his hand, much less take a cigarette from his hands, it was something so new that he felt stupid respect for the contrary.

— What are you..?!

It seems that that was not the only thing that (y/n) was going to do for him that night, since he helped himself with his own stand to climb the balcony railing, sitting there to be at the imposing height of the black-haired man, (y/n) smiled sweetly with those thin lips that he had, a gesture that seemed terribly sexy to JoJo, as if he wanted to tempt him to do something very inappropriate for him.

— Jotaro, silly, don't ever make me do that again, I thought you'd make Star Platinum beat me up!

— What..?! But then don't do that again!

He became paralyzed again when he heard a slight laugh from the minor, who covered his mouth slightly to avoid laughing more, then did something that the black-haired man did not expect, he opened his arms and legs, inviting on the contrary to give him a good hug.

— I know you are not the type of person who likes to worry others with their problems, so I will spare myself from trying to ask you what it is that torments you, and I will jump to the part where I tell you that a hug cures all ills!

— Yare yare daze, you're crazy..

— Come on JoJo! It's just a hug, silly, I don't bite, at least not you.

Jotaro stayed in place for a few seconds, then he gave a long sigh, and to the incredible surprise of (y/n), JoJo hugged him tightly, burying his head on the opposite neck.

— Don't tell anyone about this, if you do I will kill you.

Jotaro was delighted with another of the boy's beautiful laughs, (y/n) also became more attached, relaxing with the smell of perfume that the younger man gave off, he surrounded him with his legs as best he could, it was a compromising position, of course, but at that moment, both they got so comfortable with each other that they didn't even think about it.

— ...Thanks, (y/n).

(...oh hell now i know what "cw" means!!!1!1!11!!1)

[luxwritesfanfic]

Bedside Manners

Sherlock figures out who the father is and the cat has the reader’s tongue. Or, the reader reads auras and Sherlock realizes that maybe The Woman has nothing on the one he already has. Thanks for reading!

Sherlock Holmes/Reader

You hadn’t seen Sherlock in over a week.

It had all happened so fast you could barely keep up. One moment you’re out on a case with John and the next Sherlock is heavily involved with a woman who you only knew as beautiful, powerful, and way smarter than you. 

It was too much to be around him and his constant texts with his very specific ringtone so you had decided in order to save your friendship, you’d mourn your imaginary relationship in peace. He hadn’t called or texted, but since technically this was a case you didn’t expect him to. Usually, you were working the case right alongside him. You honestly hadn’t thought he noticed you were gone.

You were cocooned under the blankets watching old recorded episodes of Maury when your phone went off.

Can I come over? SH

And then, right after:

I’m coming over. John told me it was polite to ask but I know your work schedule and I know you’re home. SH

Your lips gave way to an involuntary smile at that. It shouldn’t surprise you as much as it did that Sherlock knew so much about you because you have spent most of your days together as of late, but it still made you feel special even if it was a little odd. Sherlock Holmes coming to your flat was the last thing you expected tonight and you were nowhere near prepared. Sherlock had never shown any interest in seeing where you lived before and it wasn’t that shocking seeing as you spent more nights on his sofa than you did in your bed. You got up and tried your best to tidy up, put on some better looking pajamas and unlocked the door for him.

The door’s unlocked. Y/I

You got back under the blankets and made sure to leave room for Sherlock to sit, too. It wasn’t long after you sent the text that you heard steps coming towards your bedroom door. You hardly expected him to show up in his pajamas and horrible-- but so cute, you thought-- bedhead but there he was in all of his glory. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days and you weren’t sure you wanted to know what (or who) kept him up all night. His lips were fixed in what you could only describe as a pout and he looked like he was on a mission to decipher you as soon as his knees bumped the bottom of your bed. 

Shades of blue and purple complimented his complexion tonight. You tilted your head back to see the colors better and tried to find where the light was stemming from. Before you could even say hello or finish your analysis, Sherlock was on your bed and pulling away at your blanket cocoon to invite himself underneath. You let him, of course, and realized this is the closest you had ever been to him. It felt like it could be a normal night routine and your heart ached.

It was then that it fully hit you how much you missed him. You had hoped that the way he was acting now was a reflection of how much he missed you, too, but getting your hopes up never did bode well for you. Remembering the reason you hadn’t been around all that much hit you like a freight train and you wondered if he saw right through you.

He got settled and you both sat together in silence watching as the program played. You couldn’t imagine that he came all this way just to watch telly with you and your curiosity got the better of you. “Sherlock,” you started, turning your head to face his profile, “why’d you come over here?”

“Do I ask you that when you’re at my house?” He shot back quickly, his eyes never leaving the TV. While that would sound rude to anyone else, you knew that tone. He was anxious.

“You always invite me over. You don’t have to ask.” You countered. 

“Hardly my fault you don’t invite me over. That says more about you than it does me.” Sherlock finally turned to face you and you thought he looked like ethereal with the TV light cast on his face. How you loved him so.

You could tell he was avoiding whatever it was that was bothering him and figured if he came here to sit in silence with you, you could do that for him. Turning back to the TV, you brought the blankets up even further around you two.

“He’s the father,” Sherlock said minutes before the talk show host announced it, “and you’ve been... avoiding me.” So he did notice. Just as you were about to deny it, he added, “do not lie to me. We know each other far too well for that.” 

You sighed. You really didn’t want to have this conversation with him now, or ever, but here Sherlock was snuggled up in your bed with you secretly worried that you haven’t been around. If you’ve read all the signs up until this point wrong, well, you get an A for trying. 

You could feel blue eyes boring into you and he was surely expecting an explanation. “I don’t know. This case has just been a lot on me.” 

You didn’t know what else to say. Everything involving Irene Adler was too much for you and you thought if you pretended it wasn’t going on, you’d be able to forget about it and move past it. Of course the “it” you were trying to move past was laying in your bed with you. 

You didn’t have to further elaborate because just as Sherlock was about to speak, his phone moaned. Figures.

You couldn’t hide it if you tried. She was texting him late at night and he didn’t even seemed surprised so that meant she had been texting him late at night. Your body slumped immediately and you cursed yourself because you knew Sherlock was watching. You didn’t want him to see you so weak.

“Irene Adler.” He murmured, talking more to himself than you. “You’ve been avoiding me because of Irene Adler. I don’t understand.” 

He truly was lost at this point. How Sherlock could be so brilliant but so blind was an anomaly you’d never understand. You looked at him as he tried processing this new piece of information and you could see that it wasn’t adding up for him. He couldn’t possibly understand how hearing the love of your life’s ringtone for another woman being a moan would ruin someone’s mood. It was too far beyond him.

“Sherlock, it’s fine-- it’s not her. It’s not you. I’ve just been tired. It’s me.” You try reasoning with him but it’s no use, he already off on his mental tangent. He sat up farther in bed and brushed his fingers against his lips. Something suddenly dawned on him and he was shoving his phone in your hands.

“Our texts, read them. She keeps asking me to have a night with her and I never reply. I don’t want to. Look.” He’s urging you to look at this point, and you’re unsure of what he’s trying to prove that for. You didn’t think he knew that you’d be jealous, and frankly, you didn’t think he’d care. But it was unlike you to keep him waiting, so you started to read their message thread and he was right. He had literally never responded and at this revelation you looked up at him.

Sherlock was watching for your reaction, that much was clear. Still sat up, he looked down on you as you read and met your eyes with an emotion you couldn’t discern.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Sherlock. You’re a grown man, and you’re allowed to do, and see, whoever you want.” You watched as his aura got stronger as you spoke and you wondered what he was feeling. It looked like it was coming in waves.

“Not at the cost of our relationship. She is not worth a damn to me, especially if it means losing you.” Sherlock was serious now, and that took you by surprise. You had never expected him to say anything like that about you, much less in this context. You started to wonder if all of your hopeless unrequited feelings weren’t so unrequited after all.

Now you were sitting up, and you were sitting knee to knee next to each other. “You won’t lose me. You will never lose me, Sherlock, I need you to understand that.” You matched his tone, speaking in earnest.

“Besides, if I ever did get lost, you would come find me. You wouldn’t be able to resist the game.” You offered him a smile to try and lighten your heavy confession, and when he took it, yours turned into a grin. 

You really didn’t know how you got lucky enough to love someone as beautiful as Sherlock. It takes everything in you not to lean over and kiss him stupid.

You don’t push him any farther tonight than what he’s already offered you because it’s more than enough. Instead, you lay back down and pat his pillow for him to lay next to you and start another episode of Maury. He lays back down and he’s the calmest you’ve seen him all night.

“If you guess the outcome of the episode correctly within the first three minutes, I’ll make you breakfast in the morning.” You challenged, looking over at him like he put the stars in the sky himself. And in your world, he did.

“The game is on.”

[leviiattacks]

ceo levi falling in love?

author note :: THIS WAS SM FUN TO WRITE?? levi in the modern world is just always enjoyable for me. anyways it’s just lots of shy ceo levi and secretary reader :-) as always requests are open feel free to stop by !! :D word count :: some how i got to 2.4k,,,, i promise it was an accident it doesn’t feel that long 

levi falls in love slowly. he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it until he looks at you one day during a company meeting and is unable to understand why he can’t take his eyes off you

usually he’s able to shift his focus away but he’s stuck in place despite his efforts to look away

the entire meeting is him occasionally humming his approval at all the proposals and prospective business plans being presented to him

when, truly he is NOT listening at all. he’s trying to figure out when the hell and why the hell he began to feel this way for you.

it gets to a point where he’s so distracted over it he ends the team meeting early

everyone in the room exchanges worried glances between each other.

mr ackerman, letting them leave early? that’s a first but HEY!! they’ll take it!!

as everyone disperses out of the room he’s sitting with his back hunched in his plush office chair when he then comes to the realization that he has no idea when he did fall for you,,,,, it just sorta happened????

well, you are basically around him 24/7 and help him with everything but, his newfound feelings still catch him by surprise

at first he’s scared. the feeling is odd and the way his chest tightens as he speaks to you doesn’t feel right at all.

“any specific type of tea for today?” you ask waiting for his response

the rope squeezes at his heart and he squirms around a little.

“u-um, the usual is just fine”

WHY DID HE TRIP OVER HIS WORDS...??

WHY...????

but AGAIN he ignores it, he knows it’s for the best if he doesn’t get emotionally involved with you.

for the record, levi’s definition of emotionally involved is dating you, he doesn’t know that despite not dating you he is very much still emotionally involved with you

he’s pretty good at hiding his feelings though and the fact he likes you goes unnoticed by literally everyone

well, it does stay that way for a little while

that is until someone else expresses interest in you.

it’s a normal friday evening but for some unknown reason he can’t stop himself from clenching his jaw when he walks past you and overhears jean the new head of marketing ask if you’re single

levi is stood behind you and turns to hand his chilling stare to jean who slowly notices. he looks like his knees are about to buckle. “?,&:£:& sorry for asking,,, i’ll...... get going......”

levi just grunts in annoyance glaring at him even as he scurries out the hallway.

you turn to look at him and happily smile “ahhh thank you, i didn’t know how to turn him down he just joined the team so you know, it was weird he asked that”

levi just nods and tells you to get back to work and he hears you squeak out a “yepyepyep!!!”

levi is also very in denial about the way he feels

one day it’ll be “yeah i like y/n” the next it’s “no i do not...that is literally SO stupid. me??? in love?? never.”

also, when you accidentally brush past his skin he can’t help but tense up slightly and look anywhere but where you’re touching him

one time you place a hand on his forehead to check on his temperature because you do not trust him to be honest about having a fever

the scent of your vanilla perfume it’s sweet and simple but it makes him feel incredibly shy for no reason at all

GOD.

he feels like a stupid flustered school boy

ALL THIS OVER SOME PERFUME??

the man can’t even handle looking you in the eye. he’s reading his paperwork acting as nonchalant as possible when he’s really just freaking out

is my forehead sweaty?

fuck, fuck, fuck how do i look up close?

his thoughts are so jumbled up he doesn’t know how to respond to you when you ask if he’s really doing okay

“your cheeks are bright red, maybe you do have a fever?” you’re frowning and rummaging through your bag hoping to find something to help his pounding headache

but all he’s doing as he sits at his desk is nervously opening and closing his pen by the lid

he can’t tell if his face is red because he’s ill or because he likes you

and it’s driving him CRAZY??

wait a second.

does he like you? or does he like-like you?? or does he lo- no he does not love you that is absurd

what really cements his feelings for you is the day he’s unable to reel his mouth back in.

he just starts rambling about everything that has been stressing him out recently

the new company merger, developing new product designs, reviewing humongous stacks of paperwork, attending all these long meetings

he is being driven to his breaking point and you stand there taking it all in

“hey, take the day off.” your soft voice cuts him off mid sentence and he looks at you like you just told him to curl up into a ball and die

take a day off???? he does not have the time to take a day off??

he assumes you’re frustrated by his behaviour and begins to apologize. “i’m sorry that was unprofessional i shouldn’t have don-”

“i’ll finish the paperwork. your next meeting is scheduled for tomorrow. it’s okay to take a breather.” you pick up the stack of documents and move to transfer them over to your desk

but levi is persistent.

he stands in your way and you look at him expecting him to step out

“there is no need for that.” his tone is firm but you’re still defiant

“it’s my job as your secretary to alleviate your workload.” you don’t even spare him a glance and he feels like he’s burdening you now

sure, you are his secretary but allowing you to complete all that work on your own is ludicrous

waltzing around him you beeline towards your desk but again he steps in your way interjecting your path

“lev-”

your face morphs into a mortified expression and you panic, you did not just call him by his first name AT WORK

“i mean,” [insert an anxious yet deliberate cough] “mr ackerman.”

“listen, i understand you’re very stressed sir but i’ll finish the work off so please rest up. you need to be refreshed for tomorrow’s company dinner with the investors.”

you’re pleading he takes your advice but all he can do is blink in confusion

you would do that for him???

are you really just diligent and caring or,,, does he maybe have a chance at asking you out?

but again as quick as the idea enters his head it leaves.

asking you out sounds absurd to him, you deserve way better than someone like him

levi is having another one of his jealous moments

you’ve latched yourself onto reiner braun’s arm at the company dinner and he turns away frustrated

you look really pretty

like,,, sUPER pretty

like,,, drop dead gorgeous

he clears his throat when you both make eye contact

you perk up a little and your hand raises to wave at him but levi is so horrible at interacting with you he ends up ignoring you completely...

the pit of fire in his stomach flares up when he hears reiner compliment you, he’s surprised you even accept it and thank him

now, levi is not annoyed because you don’t deserve the compliment.

no, no, no you deserve all the compliments under the sun as far as he’s concerned but what the hell does “you look way better than normal.” even mean??

he thinks you look pretty every day so he’s just a tad bit offended by it

and he only begins to realize he’s in too deep when he sees the way reiner is getting a little too handsy for his liking

he doesn’t interrupt by saying anything even though he really wants to, you seem to not mind reiner’s touch

so he won’t step in between that, it’s not even any of his business

but it certainly doesn’t stop his displeasure from being blatantly obvious and displayed on his face

“ahhh mr ackerman, if it isn’t a pleasure to see you?”

levi hears an investor greet him but his eyes are glued on you.

you’re laughing so hard at one of braun’s jokes and he feels the same flame in his stomach.

it’s rising and reaches his chest igniting once again and he narrows his eyes finally looking away

he’s not going to spare you another glance this entire evening instead he’ll occupy himself with business talk

“mr acker-”

spinning on his heel he twists around and is face to face to with one of his close sponsors erwin smith

he smiles and the two shake hands discussing new company developments and shared work stress before some how shifting to each other's personal lives

“seeing anyone?” erwin’s question makes levi stiffen and his eyes flick towards where you were just standing a while ago

you’re no longer there but he spots you a little further away now sitting alone

you look a little lost and he feels a sudden and strong magnetism

he wants to approach you to talk so badly, and as his eyes scan around the room he sees reiner occupying himself in a suggestive conversation with a lady from HR

she’s definitely trying to flirt and he’s reciprocating easily

oh, so you’ve been ditched...?

is reiner OK???

first the backhanded compliment

now he’s ditching YOU???

it makes levi feel a little angry and frustrated

he doesn’t even notice at first because he’s so deep in thought but erwin leans in to whisper in his ear. “i know that look, go talk to your crush.”

“we’re much too old for you to be using the term crush. it makes it sound childish.” levi grumbles before taking a sip from his wine glass

“i’ll go keep my secretary company. i’ve spoke to most of the other investors it should be okay.” the statement is more of a question but smith nods in response

“it’ll be more than okay, go get em’ tiger!” erwin lands a light punch onto levi’s shoulder and he grins before walking away

to levi’s disappointment he’s unable to speak to you

you end up getting dragged into conversation with some of the other employees and he doesn’t see you again

so much for talking to you, he couldn’t even get within a meters radius

he’s now out on the balcony for a breathe of fresh air, the past few hours have consisted of tedious and forced small talk with an investor’s daughter

her father has been BEGGING levi, even bribing him to consider marrying her but levi rejects every single time

there’s nothing wrong with the girl really

she’s well educated and quite pretty but... that’s all he knows about her?

AND no one beats you, even though he’s still kinda in denial about liking you

hell, not like that part matters he doesn’t even know the girl’s name what does her dad expect from him?

was it sharron? shana? he forgot her name as soon as it was said 

much to levi’s dismay he hears an unexpected giggle behind him and then an arm slinks over his shoulder, the investor’s daughter has followed him out and is now pressing her chest against him awaiting a reaction

frankly, he wants to push her off BUT he’ll be in big trouble and lose a key sponsor if he handles this incorrectly

“could you please distance yourself?” he tries to intimidate the younger girl away with the bitter tone of his voice but it only seems to motivate her

“feisty one aren’t you?” she’s looking up at him through her lashes and her poor attempt at looking appealing only makes levi internally face palm

her index finger is drawing circles into his tie and he feels his breath hitch due to how uncomfortable she’s making him

“please move.” he requests for her to listen once again and he’s now taken a step back but she only follows and keeps her firm grip on his tie

she doesn’t seem to be letting up and there’s nothing he can really do about it.

he guesses he’ll just wait till she gets bored but the time passes at an excruciatingly slow rate

in this fifteen minute duration she’s played around with his hair which has SERIOUSLY annoyed him because he took time to style it

and he thought it looked pretty cool

now she’s only pushed and pushed further and further into his chest and he can feel her hot icky breath hit his neck

the veins in his forehead are twitching in expanding irritation and he doesn’t know how much more of this he can tolerate

“you’re making him uncomfortable.” levi’s head snaps to the right and there you are still as beautiful as the last time he saw you

your arms crossed over your chest and you’re looking the girl up and down

“and who might you be?” the way she scoffs seems to be enough to piss you off because your face morphs into a scowl.

big Yikes...you’re mad

“leave him alone.”

“you must be of no importance, we have no time for-”

“step away before i make a report on the grounds of sexual harassment.”

you flip your phone out smirk plastered across your face

“it’s all been recorded. know your place.” you’re unyielding and even levi is thinking??? wow??? you know how to not be nice??? because well, he’s never seen you this mad 

just as you expect she barges out in a fury (not before flicking you off), you’ve left her brimming with rage and you feel rather proud of yourself

you release a content sigh

“do i get a raise for saving you or what?” you dryly jab 

he’s always loved your straightforward jokes, they align perfectly with his blunt humour

he murmurs his appreciative thanks

“are you enjoying yourself?” he asks the question eager to know what your answer is

it’s another way he knows he’s falling way too deep for his liking

he never asks anyone else these trivial questions

“enjoyable. although reiner is a little.” you pause to find the correct words

“he just made me a little uncomfy, he’s very extroverted so i felt out of place. thankfully he’s preoccupied himself elsewhere.” the same lonely look from before returns to your face 

yeah, it is kinda sucky to have your date ditch you

“you don’t have to tolerate-” levi starts then stops.

you’ve leant in to hear him after saying you can’t hear much over the hustle and bustle from inside

“the- i mean- what i’m trying to say is” he looks at you completely stunned trying to piece together what he wants to say

wOWIE!!!! you literally look so stunning up close he can not formulate a sentence, he has officially LOST IT

the words he say next fly out of his mouth after a lengthy internal struggle “fuck. what i’m saying is, what i mean is, you could always come as my date next time.”

now you’re the one looking at him stupefied.

again, he’s looking anywhere but at you

the closest he gets to it is taking a glimpse of your dress,

it’s black and suits you well with the little ruffles and all.

“i’d love that.”

the tips of his ears grow red in embarrassment but... YOU ACCEPTED???

NOW. levi is giddy on the inside but makes no move to make it obvious instead he opts to scratch his neck and give you an awkward thumbs up

you take note of his body language and the possible realization dawns on you

but you can’t really tell if it’s the doing of alcohol

either way you grab onto his suit and begin to lead the way back into the main hall

“may as well start being my date now? not like reiner’s coming back any time soon” he can’t see your face but he can tell you’re smiling as you speak

levi’s cheeks are bright red but he thanks the chilly night air and darkness for hiding the way he’s reacting

he won’t confess just yet, it’s too early and again he’s in major denial but when staring at the hand that holds onto his suit jacket his heart tingles a little

more like a LOT...

but really whatever it is the two of you have got going on right now it weirdly makes the both of you feel weak at the knees

to be honest, levi enjoys it

and so do you :-)

[spockandawe]

Hello! While I know this point must have already been talked about a lot in the fandom but since I have only recently read tgcf, I don't know much. I came across threads on where people talked about Hua Cheng being obsessive and toxic, with his existence being centered around Xie Lian and hence not having a grounding personality and life of his own + the scene of Ten Thousand Gods Cave.

Since I have been reading your metas, I was curious about your thoughts on this? Thank you!

Sure thing! Apologies for the slow response, this whole thing with my back has been really disrupting everything I want to accomplish. Now, I think that Hua Cheng is obsessive in a way that could easily become toxic, but calling him obsessive+toxic relies on only a shallow reading of the character and limiting yourself to the point where he is at the very start of the story, ignoring all the character/relationship development that happens over the course of a very long book.

Now, when it comes to the flashback books? Hua Cheng can have a little obsession, as a treat. I’m not going to say that the way he feels back then is any kind of basis for a healthy adult relationship, but Hua Cheng is approximately ages 10-17 over the course of book 2, and isn’t much “older” after his death as the ghost fire and as Wuming in book 4. He’s not relating to Xie Lian in a way that’s going to lead to a relationship of equals at that point, but he’s also a kid who’s worshiping a god who saved his life at a young age, twice, and who comforted and reassured him when their kingdom’s guoshi told him that he was doomed to bring misfortune to everyone in his life. All of their interactions in book 2 are extremely good reasons for why Hua Cheng would idolize him and obsess over him in that way, and I’m not going to fault him for any of it.

Now, I would say that the end of book 4 illustrates how badly that kind of idolization can go better than anything set in the present day, but it’s telling that this is also the point where Xie Lian abruptly realizes how much he doesn’t want to be Like This, and hauls his life around. Even eight hundred years later, he’s more ashamed to speak of this part of his life than anything else. He’s way more willing to laugh at his own pain and suffering than he is to even mention a time where he was cold and controlling with someone who offered themself to him.

SO. In the present, Xie Lian has a very good reason to know that he does not want to take advantage of someone else’s offered devotion. It’s an old memory, but when we see how much he doesn’t want to talk about it, it’s clear that it made an impression. If the direction of this book was only up to Hua Cheng? He’s already made it abundantly clear that he’s willing to sacrifice his everything, including his sense of self, if Xie Lian asks, but Xie Lian has confirmed very strongly to himself that this is not what Xie Lian wants.

And Xie Lian is walking a very fine emotional line in a lot of ways that he himself isn’t even fully aware of, but the early development in the book has this really interesting balance in the dynamic between him and Hua Cheng. He’s happy to rely on Hua Cheng for advice and help, but he’s also completely willing to worry for him (when he jumps into the sinner’s pit) and to gently scold him (when he jumps into the sinner’s pit). Hua Cheng worries about what will happen if Xie Lian finds out who he really is, but Xie Lian pretty much confirms it to himself, and when Hua Cheng is finally anxious enough to ask about it, Xie Lian’s main reaction is ‘isn’t the important thing that I like you as a person?’

If Hua Cheng was left to his own devices, he’d obsess over Xie Lian in a way that let himself suborn his entire identity to whatever Xie Lian wants from him, but Xie Lian has been so horribly lonely for so long, and even before a relationship enters the picture, what Xie Lian wants is a friend. And Xie Lian, on his own, is determined not to let himself take advantage of a person the way he took advantage of Wuming. And no matter how much Hua Cheng wants to submit himself to Xie Lian, what’s more important to him is what Xie Lian wants. The meta that’s been doing good circulation that I bet you saw was about how Hua Cheng developed his own independent sense of self over the last eight hundred years, no matter what he’d originally wanted, but as he gets to know Xie Lian in the present, Xie Lian makes it clear that Xie Lian likes who he became. 

Hua Cheng does still definitely take the position that ‘whatever Xie Lian wants is more important than what I want’, and that could go badly in so many ways, but from the very beginning, Xie Lian is firmly, firmly expressing, ‘I like who you are and I want to be friends.’ Xie Lian doesn’t scold Hua Cheng for being a dick to Fu Yao and Nan Feng, or for breaking heavenly artifacts, even one that used to be one of his own treasured possessions. He scolds Hua Cheng because ‘you jumped down into that pit and I was afraid you would be hurt.’ He doesn’t try to sand off Hua Cheng’s sharp edges or change him, and isn’t willing to sit back and relax as Hua Cheng puts himself in harm’s way. He doesn’t give Hua Cheng room to make himself a less-than, and (probably unintentionally) positively reinforces Hua Cheng when he lets bits of his own true personality show through. One of the reasons I love this book so much is because that relationship could have so easily turned toxic and controlling, but the main pair like each other so much that they manage to pull through into a healthy, balanced relationship.

It’s not a perfect relationship, because perfect relationships are boring and unrealistic, and there’s no tension in a story if two characters are perfectly in step. But by the end of the story, this is a more perfect relationship than I’d ever expected to be invested in, because they’re so in sync, haha. 

I think the moments that show the ways it’s not obsessive in a toxic way best come through in the times when Hua Cheng has some sort of grudge against a person that Xie Lian genuinely cares for. It starts with the shitty teens in the Banyue arc, but even near the story end, Mei Nianqing is Xie Lian’s old beloved teacher, and is also the person who told Hua Cheng ‘wow! you’re destined to fuck over everyone who ever gets close to you’ when Hua Cheng was just a little kid. It’s clear that Xie Lian likes and respects him a lot, and Hua Cheng feels not at all compelled to play nice. He’s happy to continue being nasty as hell to Feng Xin and Mu Qing, who are Xie Lian’s next two closest friends. He’s not even willing to be nice to E’Ming even as 1) Xie Lian pampers it, and 2) E’Ming is literally a part of himself. 

And he doesn’t hide this at all. He’s willing to act in ways not at all aligned with Xie Lian’s own opinions, especially as time goes on and Xie Lian doesn’t correct him. He’s willing to act against Xie Lian’s wishes in order to protect him (taking back his spiritual energy in the black water arc, overexerting himself to the point of dissipation at the climax), and it becomes more clear as the story progresses that he’s a person who wants only the best for Xie Lian, but who exists independently from Xie Lian, and isn’t willing to completely defer to Xie Lian’s desires or to override Xie Lian’s desires for what he thinks is best. To me, this relationship is primarily defined by how much the two of them like each other, and especially early on, I could see it easily tipping in an unhealthy direction, but it feels like most of the later relationship development specifically exists to undermine that particular flavor of toxic dynamic, and what we end up with is a very sweet, very balanced relationship. Hua Cheng’s willingness to submit himself to what Xie Lian wants is overridden by Xie Lian’s desire that Hua Cheng be himself, because that’s the person who Xie Lian loves.

[onelovewonderwoman]

first class || charles xavier x reader

i’ve been on an x-men binge and fell into a hole of james mcavoy and charles xavier again, so here we are. i haven’t written fics in a long time, so i tried to again. i’m uncreative so like the title is just the first movie because of the fact that it’s set during that time. kind of like self insert cause there’s a few bits and pieces where there’s canonical plot and interactions, so disclaimer for that. anyways, hope you guys enjoy! ps also don’t have enough energy to find a fitting gif so maybe i’ll find one later maybe i won’t. we’ll see

words: 5.8k

warnings: not proofread (i spent three days on this so i don’t have the energy anymore haha), writing lacks emotional depth, drug use and mentions, intent of murder, thoughts of (murder, rape, suicide, etc.), poorly written two paragraphs about kissing, angst, we ignore moira and charles’ romance cause... duh, it’s x reader and it’s too difficult for me to work around it rn a haha

masterlist

The rooms were always the same. They were dark, illuminated only by the dimmest of lights emanating from the occasional lava lamp or fairy lights. Fairy - ironic word for such situations, such rooms. Filled so heavily with smoke it made it hard to breathe, let alone see. And the floors; the floors always felt different. 

In hindsight, it was probably the one thing that had her realizing the rooms were never actually the same. Sure, they had the same smell, the same overcrowdedness and moving bodies, the same darkness, even the same taste, but the floors testified to the difference each room held. 

Sometimes, when the world would freeze and all the people around her became nothing but a mesh of warm bodies, she could hear the floor creak under her feet with every step she took. There she was - the house right down the street from her.��

Other times, the floors felt sticky under her shoes. She assumed it was tequila. There were always too many bottles around to count, surely there would be spills. Or, some poor guy could have pissed himself like that one time. When her shoes sounded like velcro as she walked across the floor, she was at the house all the way across town.

In any case, she felt the same ankle up. One of her favourite parts had to be the way the music always abused her ears - so high, it made her feel lightheaded. More so than she already had been both. Sex was not nearly regular enough for her to compare, but she knew what she would feel every time the music was loud enough to make her head buzz and throb with a vengeance was more erotic than anything anyone could ever do to her.

The place could change but the scene never really did. Down to the people - she knew this for sure. She knew every beating heart around her like they were her own. She never only felt it there, but in her head as well. Even as it buzzed, she felt it. Sometimes it tore at her skull as if trying to escape - ironic.

Now, why did the scene change one evening in 1962? She told herself it was fate, but it had merely been wishful thinking when she knew why. How did she know? She knew the man sitting next to her on the worn down couch, nearly entirely unconscious and reeking of weed and vodka, knew the girl across the house, the girl across the house knew the man next to her and that - so on and so forth - meant she knew all three of them, even though they didn’t know her. So, for two new men to walk into the house, their eyes focused - focused on her - changed the scene entirely.

Now, the music became nothing more than an assault on her ears; the lights became too bright at the same time as the dark became too dark; the air became heavier than usual; and she sobered up at the feeling of something - someone - in her head. Then, it all caved in. It was as overwhelming as it always was, but she was used to it enough to handle it for a little while, at least whilst remnants of her high remained. She couldn’t say the same for the shorter of the two men she saw keel over at the pressure.

He got over it pretty quick, from what she could tell. “Charles Xavier,” he introduced himself as, “This is my colleague, Erik Lensherr.”

A quick trip from the couch to the door had her standing on the lawn of the house of the night with the two men. Crickets could be heard fighting against the sound of the music blaring from the house as she swayed on her feet, making wet sounds in the grass from earlier rain. Charles stood not much taller than her, charm emanating from him and the way his piercing blue eyes seemed to smile despite his furrowed brows and mouth set in a straight line as he stared at her, waiting for a response with his hands tucked into his coat pockets. Erik stood taller, stoic and calculating.

“And?” She crossed her arms across her chest, both in discomfort and the fact that the chilly night air had begun to bite at her skin, her long sleeve doing nothing to help. “I should care why?”

If the incident earlier wasn’t enough, the way the both of them looked at her was enough for her to know why. “What’s your name?” Charles asked, having her notice then the English accent on his tongue. 

The second she gave it to him, he smiled - almost sympathetically - at her and hummed, “You have an incredibly busy mind, Y/N.”

“And you have an incredibly nosy one, Charles.” That had Erik letting out a chuckle, one that felt like approval to her ears.

Never in a million years would she dare say yes to anything of the sort the two men proposed to her that night. A team of mutants; not necessarily that she thought it was absurd or a horrible idea - no. It made sense, not factoring in their current climate, to have a team of mutants fighting against the evils of the world. The horrible idea was to have her join. No, she wanted to tell them, “I don’t think it’s such a good idea.”

“That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking too,” Erik agreed with her, catching both herself and Charles off guard, “We’ll be going then.”

He offered her his hand. She didn’t know how long she stood there staring at his outstretched arm. Sometimes her high slowed time - it could have been five seconds or five minutes. When she finally looked away from his hand, up at him, she saw he stood unwavered and patient.

“You don’t have to, you know.” Her eyes shot to Charles as he broke the silence. He shook his head, brows still furrowed and mouth set in a straight line. “You’re under no obligation.”

For Charles to know, she understood. He had just been in her mind long enough to know that most of it wasn’t even hers. For Erik to know and offer her his hand made her wonder just how desperate he was to assemble the team - for whatever reason that she was about to find out in a moment.

“We leave now.” Was all he said after he tore his hand from hers.

An hour hasn’t even passed when she found herself on a plane with the two men, mind still buzzing but this time not with a high. This time, with an overwhelming anger and anticipation. The way Erik didn’t make eye contact with her and Charles sent worried glances her way throughout their trip to their “base” was enough to tell her that they knew she had already been briefed on what was happening - the reason behind their assembling of a team. Rather, she knew specifically of the personal motive behind it.

All it made her heart feel like it was beating a mile a minute. It pounded against her chest so hard she was sure at least one of them could hear it. So badly did she want to hide out in the plane’s bathroom and take something to stop the pain, but it was off the table. For now.

Soon enough the flight ended, and she came to find out their “base” was a covert CIA facility where they placed the other mutants they rounded up before her. She just as quickly met and said goodbye to Moira MacTaggert, a CIA officer working with Charles and Erik to stop Shaw. His name alone sent sparks of rage flowing through her veins.

She was left with the group when the three went off that night. There, she came face to face with Raven, Sean, Alex, Hank, Darwin, and Angel - or, Mystique, Banshee, and Havok. Darwin and Angel were “self explanatory”, considering they were already nicknames and described their powers fairly well. Hank was just… Hank.

Her turn came around quickly, once everyone settled down from Alex’s show of his “gift”, when all heads turned to her, sitting at the end of the couch. Raven smiled at her - she liked her, she was sweet - “What about you? What’s your power?”

“I’m,” She paused for a moment, the eyes on her making her anxious and curl into herself hoping, praying, another mutant wouldn’t touch her. “I can move things. With my mind.” She gave a tight smile to Raven and nodded her head, as if to reassure herself. “I can move things with my mind.”

Raven’s smile only widened, excited by either the prospect of her being able to move things with her mind or the opportunity to give her an alias. She assumed it was the latter. She excused herself to the washroom just as Raven asked the group what they thought. “We’ll have one for you once you get back! Promise!” Raven called after her.

Body filled with anticipation, she nearly ran to the washroom, willing the door closed behind her after she entered. It was small, but clean - CIA property after all. 

She tried. She really did. Albeit, making contact with a mutant was always the worst; Erik especially. The trauma, the pain, the thoughts. All them clawed at her brain, as though they were tearing through it layer by layer until nothing but them remained within her skull.

Nothing could stop her from taking out the small baggy in her back pocket and tearing it open. Nothing could stop her from taking it, only to feel a rush flow through her. It would take a bit, but soon enough she would stop feeling them gnawing on her very existence. Soon, numbness would wash over her and she could just be no one.

She guessed she was in the washroom for about half an hour. Staring at her reflection, at the floor, at the ceiling, at anything, but when she made her way back to the room, she found it in disarray. Music was blasting from the radio, chairs flipped over, Raven on top of the couch dancing as Hank hung from the ceiling light, the rest of the group messing around with their powers. She couldn’t tell if they were experiencing some high of their own or just happened to have gotten their hands on some alcohol.

“What are you doing? Who destroyed the statue?” Moira’s voice broke her out of the trance she was in watching the group. Slowly, she turned her head to see her, Charles, and Erik walking over as everyone else froze. Moira was angry, that much anyone could tell, but the two men were unreadable.

Hank was the first one to reply back, jumping down the ceiling, panicked, “It was Alex.”

“No. Havok.” Raven seemed to stay unfazed, still standing on the couch with a wide smile on her face. “We have to call him Havok. That's his name now…”

Raven’s words melted away from her. Her focus wasn’t elsewhere; it was simply nowhere at all. She stared at everyone in the room, yet no one at all. So caught up in nothing she didn’t notice Charles himself staring at her until Erik uttered something under his breath and walked away with Moira following, brows furrowed in what looked to be confusion. Just as she caught his eye, he looked away.

Directed at Raven, he spoke firmly, “I expect more from you.”

Not long after, they had gotten word that Shaw would be in Russia, and so she was left with the group of mutants when the three left alongside the CIA to get their hands on him. Before, it would have made her wonder what purpose the group of mutants really served if they didn’t want them there to help. Now, after the incident, she understood why.

By no means were any of them prepared for such a task. She couldn’t claim to be either. She only agreed because she knew a part within her would hate her for not coming and at the very least trying to help.

Just when she thought she and the solemn group couldn’t be any more of a liability, she was proven wrong. Because now Sebastian Shaw stood in front of them, smug and irritating as ever, after having his lackey drop an unsuspecting CIA to his death in front of all of them and cornering them. 

“Good evening. My name's Sebastian Shaw, and I'm not here to hurt you.” She was sure she wasn’t the only one assuming he had taken out every single CIA operative in the facility to make it this far; a thought that filled her being with even more dread than she was already feeling at the sight of him. “My friends, there's a revolution coming. When mankind discovers who we are, what we can do, each of us will face a choice. Be enslaved or rise up to rule. Choose freely, but know that if you are not with us, then by definition, you are against us. So, you can stay and fight for the people who hate and fear you. Or you can join me, and love like kings and queens.”

They all watched, both shocked and betrayed when Angel took the hand Shaw outstretched, standing by his side even when he murdered Darwin in his attempt to stop him with Alex. She didn’t see it - she turned away the second Shaw released the energy he’d taken from Alex into Darwin. She heard it, though. The explosion. When she turned back, as Shaw, Angel, and the men he had brought with him retreated, she saw nothing. There was no sign of Darwin; not even a speck of dust.

Suddenly, her chest tightened and the clawing came back.

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

The person who happened to almost send them home also happened to be the one who provided them a new place to train their powers for the fight with Shaw. Charles was entirely serious and extremely close to sending them all home; “They’re just kids.” But Erik made it clear to him that they couldn’t be anymore, not after Shaw.

Charles lived, alongside Raven, in a massive mansion that had been entirely too big for her to take in, but it provided the perfect space for them to train their powers. Each of them were assigned rooms by Charles personally that day. 

He took the liberty of walking them each there. She didn’t know if it was just her or a Charles thing, but he stayed quiet. Unusual for a man that had so much to say. But then again, with what they’ve already been through, she couldn’t imagine he was feeling very chatty. She certainly wouldn’t have been in his situation. Granted, she would be feeling the same way now, but in her predicament by this point, she wouldn’t mind someone else’s verbal company.

The second he guided her through the bedroom

door, she began to take in the sheer size of the room, feeling bigger than life itself in the way that she was feeling. The bed was even better; huge and looked as though the softness of it would swallow her into a warm hug. Her first instinct would have been to jump right onto it, but the fact that Charles ceased to leave and instead remained planted there, giving her a look she couldn’t make out once she turned to face him, made her fight against her urges.

She opened her mouth in an attempt to utter an “Are you alright?” but never got the chance. Instead, Charles spoke as soon as her mouth opened, slowly, as if to make sure she understood every word he was saying like she had been incapable of doing so before, “Training starts tonight, but I’ll be seeing you tomorrow.”

With her brows furrowed in confusion, she nodded, and Charles began to walk away. He stopped by the frame of the door, back to her, and spoke again, “Try and get some rest.”

With that, he shut the door behind him. Now, she was left in the room alone, tiredness washing over her. Awaiting the next day, she decided to fall into the cloud that was the bed and fall asleep while she could.

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

The next morning was when Charles asked to see her - by Raven. The young woman led her over to a room, an odd dome shaped one, where Charles stood waiting. He wasn’t the same as the night before - uncomfortable, was the only way she knew to describe it - welcoming and encouraging.

“We’ve got plenty of work to do,” Charles spoke, hands in his pockets, as she entered and Raven excused herself elsewhere. Looking around, she could see evidence that training had started last night, namely Alex’s. Dark scuff marks were streaked across walls of the dome on the end farthest from them and small balls of fluff on the floor remained, assumingly left behind in the midst of a quick clean up of training dummies that had been torn open.

Despite the mess, several other objects were placed across the floor. All ranged from light to heavy. Chairs, weights - it looked to be anything he could have been capable of carrying in with the help of the others.

She stopped in front of him. “What’s this?”

The man’s smile widened before he started, rather loudly at that. “Well.” He moved towards the objects then spun around to face her, arms outstretched. “This is the beginning of your training.”

She raised an eyebrow, looking at the man unimpressed. “You want me to move this stuff around?”

“You’re not just moving stuff around.” Charles shook his head, arms dropping to his sides as he declared. “You don’t need to move everything here. I only need to see how much you can handle.” His head tilted as he looked at her, blue eyes meeting her own as his expression retreated to one of curiosity. “And how you handle it.”

She didn’t think the professor was aware of the innuendo within the situation, so she let it go despite the sweet stomach dropping feeling that came over her. Instead, she shrugged. “Then what?”

“Then,” Charles hesitated for a moment, “Erik was able to move a satellite dish. If it happens to be possible-”

“A satellite dish?” She laughed incredulously, “You can be serious.”

Charles nodded towards her, challenging her statements as he took a few steps forward. “And what is it that’s making you believe you’re incapable of doing anything similar?”

“Look.” She shook her head, looking directly at him when she said, “I can move the average household item, shut a door and maybe, just maybe, bust it down, but I couldn’t push your couch across the room, let alone move a fu- a satellite dish.”

Charles’ brows furrowed. “And that’s what you believe?”

She hummed. “That’s what I know.”

“Well,” he sighed, disappointment written across his face that sent her into a spiral, “There’s not much we can do if you don’t believe you can better yourself, is there?”

The second he walked past her was when it felt as though ice water had been spilt onto her. A mixture of confusion and gloom washed over her before she turned to see Charles’ back, still moving towards the door. “What?”

He stopped in his tracks at her exclamation, waiting several moments as if contemplating before he turned back to her. Carefully, he asked, “Why do you take them?”

She shook her head, looking almost offended. “How did you-”

“Your mind,” Charles confirmed, “It gets quieter.”

The offence on her face never ceased, but the uncomfortable mixture of feelings she was overwhelmed with had her shrug in response to his question. Charles only nodded and gave her a tight smile before turning back.

She closed her eyes, resigning herself with huff. She could go back to the life she had come to know and hate, or she could take the second chance he was giving her even if it did include the prospect of some suffering.

“I don’t take them for fun.” The sound of her voice made Charles stop again. This time, he waited. “When I touch a person I don’t just take every experience. I take every memory.”

He turned around to face her once more and gave her nod, signalling her to continue. She breathed in and out. “I see and I feel everything that’s happened to them. That’s a lot and it’s enough, but that’s not why I-”

She cut herself off, feeling herself choke on the words before shaking her head and persisting herself on despite Charles’ look of concern. “I take them because, when I take their memories, I take all of their thoughts too. Every one. So every thought of murder, or rape, or suicide, or any fucked up thing, keeps tearing me apart from the inside out.”

Charles nodded, walking closer to her, choosing his words carefully as he spoke, sympathy written deep in his soft voice, “And they scare you.”

She shook her head. Looking away from him for a moment, she willed away tears she felt gathering. She turned back to him. “The thought of acting on them scares me.”

Although slightly taken aback by the revelation, Charles holds his composure. He nodded before opening his mouth to respond, walking closer as he began.

The only reaction he got was her taking a step back, shaking her head. “I swear I’m not a bad person.” Charles assumed she didn’t want him touching her - considering she took away every thought. “I’m always all these people at once - I don’t even know who I am.”

“Then we will figure it out.” Charles tilted his head, making sure her eyes met his when she attempted to look away. His voice was soft and reassuring to her ears, even if she didn’t know whether to believe him or not. “You aren’t alone, Y/N.”

As it turns, the drugs were having a large effect on her ability to use her powers - the next few days told her as much. By no means was she capable of moving a satellite dish, but she had been able to take her powers to lengths she never thought she could have been able to.

Most of it was due to Charles - he’d spent most of the next few days with her, pushing her, sometimes to the point where she’d snap at him. She always calmed, though, and Charles always remained coolheaded.

Still, they grew closer. Or at least she grew closer to him. She couldn’t tell if the praise, the laughs, the banter, and the willingness to come back together after a fight only meant something to her. She hoped it did - because why else wouldn’t he just give up on her? All that time spent on advancing her powers to defeat Shaw, and he still talked about helping her as though their relationship would continue past this mission.

Part of her wanted to touch him so she could just know. Even if he hadn’t taken such a liking to her as she had him, at the very least try to understand him in his entirety and make a space for herself in his life. Then, another part of her was horrified at what she would find in there.

For the time being, there wasn’t much opportunity to dwell on it. The day they would head out was coming soon, and Erik suggested the group get a good night’s rest. They would all need it.

With her luck, she didn’t know why she thought that sleep would come easy that night. Whether it was due to adrenaline, anxiety, or anything else, didn’t matter. Because whatever was keeping her up had her pacing the hallways of Charles’ estate that night.

She wasn’t looking for it, but instead happened upon a conversation. 

“… no difference. Shaw’s declared war on mankind. On all of us. He has to be stopped.” She heard Charles’ voice through a door as she passed by. Although knowing that he could probably make out the sound of her mind from a mile away, she still stopped by it. She grew even more curious when she heard Erik’s voice. 

“I'm not gonna stop Shaw. I'm gonna kill him. Do you have it in you to allow that?” A moment of silence passed and she shifted on her feet. It made the floor creek. She shut her eyes and bit her lip, nervous, expecting to hear the sound of one of their footsteps coming to open the door and catch her eavesdropping. Whether they heard or not, she didn’t know as Erik continued on, “You've known all along why I was here, Charles. But things have changed. What started as a covert mission, tomorrow mankind will know that mutants exist. Shaw, us, they won't differentiate. They'll fear us. And that fear will turn to hatred.”

“Not if we stop a war,” Charles’ voice wavered on a line of urgency and assurance, “Not if we can prevent Shaw. Not if we risk our lives doing so.”

Charles very well could have been doing nothing but reassuring Erik with his words, but she couldn’t help but wonder if he was actually trying to reassure himself. As if the world wouldn’t either discard or abuse them once they’ve served their purpose of their betterment. 

“Will they do the same for us?”

“We have it in us to be the better men.”

“We already are.” Erik’s voice quickly turned from calm to urgent when he next spoke. “We're the next stage of human evolution. You said it yourself!”

“No, no!” She heard Charles attempt to cut Erik off before he sighed. She could practically hear the disappointment in it, although she couldn’t say she felt the same. He only let Erik continue.

“Are you really so naive as to think that they won't battle their own extinction?” She heard him pause. “Or is it arrogance?”

“I’m sorry?” As if Charles had misheard him. 

She shifted on her feet once more as their voices became more hushed, despite the feeling coming from the room becoming more hostile than calm. This time, she was more careful. Nothing made a sound below her feet when she moved closer to the door, pressing her ear against it, as well as her left palm for support.

“After tomorrow, they're gonna turn us. But you're blind to it, because you believe they're all like Moira.” 

“And you believe they're all like Shaw.” Came Charles’ immediate response. Calmly, she heard him continue, “Listen to me very carefully my friend. Killing Shaw will not bring you peace.”

Erik’s voice never wavered when he told Charles, “Peace was never an option.”

Footsteps came far too fast for her to move away from the door. In a split second, she found herself leaning against the door to crashing into Erik’s chest when he pulled the door open. For a moment, Erik stood staring down at her, watching her attempt to recompose herself and attempt to apologize. She didn’t get a word out before he moved past her and walked away.

She watched his form retreat before she turned back to the room. Standing in the doorway, she saw Charles sitting in the chair facing away from her. With his eyes closed and fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighed, “You realize I can hear your mind from across this house?”

She took a step in, almost reluctantly. She didn’t imagine Charles would be content with anything she had to say, but maybe she could make him understand. “Erik’s right, you know.”

Her words had Charles’ eyes snap open. He got out the chair, setting down the drink he was nursing on the table next to him, before he turned to face her. “Excuse me?”

“Peace isn’t an option ‘cause we’re never gonna get peace.” She shook her head, desperation in both her voice and eyes as she stared into his. “Erik thinks they’re gonna turn on us. They might not, but it doesn’t mean any of us will get any peace. They won’t all be like Shaw, they won’t all be like Moira, but most of them - most of them will just be human. They’ll fear us and they’ll judge us. It doesn’t matter how harmless we are or not.”

She watched as Charles took a step forward, his head tilting to the side, expression unreadable as his voice remained calm. “You can’t be serious.” It was a statement - a wrong one.

“Shaw needs to die,” She spoke with assurance. She felt her eyes fill with tears, Charles watching her suck in a breath and release as he began to walk closer to her, before she spoke in a whisper, no longer trusting her voice, “Shaw needs to die for what he did to us. We’re going to kill him, Charles.”

They’re faces we’re merely inches apart, chilling her to the bone as he looked at her. What she thought he would never do is what he tried the second he began to raise his hand, speaking quickly to her when he asked, “Us?”

His hand almost cupped her cheek when she turned her head away from it. Immediately, his hand froze. Charles watched her profile as more tears welled up in her eyes and her lips began to tremble. Voice weak and tearful, staring away from him, she pleaded, “Please don’t confuse me. I can’t-”

“I know you feel it,” Charles’ other hand came up to guide her face back to him despite her, whispering carefully, “But it is not your cross to bear.”

His hand was warm against her cheek. Comforting - enough to make her mind go blank. Wishful thinking, of course, because soon the clawing in her head would come back with a vengeance at having a man such as Charles touch her. For now, though, he felt safe. Stable. Enough so that she could close her eyes for a moment and let the tears fall as he leaned down to her and let his forehead press against hers. 

“You can’t help but feel his pain,” She felt his breath against her lips as he spoke, his voice the same soft and soothing as she’s known it to be, “But you can decide what you do with it.”

She shook her head gently and pulled away, but still letting Charles’ hand rest against her cheek. “It’s not just-” she whispered to him, mouth feeling dry as her eyes avoided his, trying to piece her thoughts together. His hand slid down to the base of her neck, guiding her eyes to his. She licked her lips before she swallowed. “I barely knew Darwin, but he killed him right in front of us. And it was cruel and scary and I couldn’t even make myself look at it when it happened.”

“I know.” Charles brought his other hand up to brush away slow falling tears she hadn’t even known began to escape. He voiced nothing but concern, letting her continue as if he knew what she was going to say next. 

Her hands reached up to wrap around his wrists, not to pull his hands away from her, but to simply hold onto them. Almost as if they were an anchor to make up for the tears she now felt were falling faster down her face as she realized. “For the first time, I think I want something, I feel this anger and fear, because of my head. I saw it first and I felt it first. It’s mine, and now I have a real responsibility to take care of it.”

“Not with murder.” Her hands tightened around his wrists as he brought her face closer to his own. A frown on his face as he desperately told her, “I meant it when I told you that we would figure this out together. You told me you were never your own person, that you don’t even know yourself. We were - we are - going to bring you into existence. I beg you, Y/N, don’t let yourself be brought into this world as a murderer.”

His words, as beautiful as they were, only half registered within her brain. All she found herself focusing on then was how close he was. She would think back later and come to realize that it was because the only thing making her tears stop and giving her the will not to commit a murder was the prospect of approval she would get from a man like him. From someone who could never understand her struggle, someone who never tried to or tried to make her feel as though there was some way out. From someone who wanted to build on it and show her the strength she could find within it.

Realistically, she knew he would have a few words for her if she ever outwardly admitted to him that she used approval as a means for bettering herself, but it was the best she could do at the time being.

Charles’ brows furrowed as he watched her face, spaced out and regarding him with an expression not even he could read. Somewhere deep down, though, he knew he had gotten through to her. His lips curled up slightly, speaking lowly with amusement evident in his voice, “Now where did you go?”

Her eyes shot from his lips to his eyes once more. As quick as they made eye contact, she leaned forward to press her lips against his. Lips soft, she kissed him carefully, one hand moving to cup his face. Only in the last few moments did he respond to it by kissing back.

She pulled away, looking at him nervously and letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding in. Her mouth was dry again. “I’m sorry-”

She was cut off by Charles’ lips on hers once more. She kissed back instantly, sighing into the kiss in content. Feeling Charles smirk against her lips and deepen the kiss, she put both hands behind his neck, pulling his body closer to hers. He took her lower lip between his teeth, pulling slightly as he let his hands trail down her body to her waist, pulling her to make sure there wasn’t the slightest gap between their bodies.

Their lips broke apart, but only long enough to allow for a quick breath. Charles pushed his lips back into hers as her hands snaked down to the collar of his dress shirt, playing carefully with the top button.

Eventually, their lips broke apart as they caught their breath. Bodies still pressed together, Charles leant forward to rest his forehead onto hers, her eyes still close, for a moment before pressing a kiss to it. He placed his chin on top of her head and rested there, her head resting against the crook of his neck as she felt him - anticipating what it would feel like to feel nothing but him. 

[rimofwell]

- finished IOP two weeks ago! wild. the first week out was horrendous and this last week was better. hard to believe i was in treatment for almost 6 months? (after swearing i’d never go back again lmao.) it was a lot and for sure exhausting but i was in a really bad spot this fall/winter and i do think it helped. hard to say what specifically about it was helpful. if i had to guess, i’d say that the structure (especially in PHP) and mostly the cohort of people i was in treatment with. i used to think i didn’t like interacting in groups and for some reason i was especially anxious about that part even though i like new people and generally make friends pretty easily? i don’t know something about a group setting was stressful to me. anyway, that ended up being the most healing aspect of all, and it really did shatter the image i had of myself as this closed off / cold-seeming person. i realized - first from the feedback i got from the other people in group & also from the therapists who saw the interactions between me and the other members but then for myself - that i’m actually very warm and that people do really gravitate toward me and like to be around me which i somehow was not expecting.

- tried ketamine as a treatment for depression/ptsd. it wasn’t nearly as revolutionary/effective for me as it was for other members in the program (which i was kind of prepared for since things don’t really tend to work for me the same way they work for others) but at the advice of the program psychiatrist i am trying to ~radically accept~ rather than judge that. anyway, i finished the course of treatment but likely won’t be continuing with it. definitely an interesting experience though, and for me was kind of spiritual? certainly made me more open to exploring psychedelics in the near future

- moved to a new apartment (again, since i moved this time last year too lmao). moving was horrible for me as it is for basically everyone. the apartment had a ton of issues which obviously stressed me out a ton (especially since i moved and graduated from treatment basically on the same day). i hate change!

- haven’t been home in almost a whole YEAR, which is unbelievable. hopefully going sometime soon though and i’m looking forward to it - i feel this emptiness that’s lingering and i don’t think going home will fill it necessarily, but i do think that it will provide some much needed comfort/familiarity even if it is a bit of an escape

- during the harder part of these past two weeks i wanted to go home and just not come back to california, which also seems like a nice escape but i’m trying to “breathe through” the feelings of pain and emptiness that come up really intensely. my constantly changing moods/emotional states used to make me feel so untethered and out of control - which makes sense, since going from feeling suicidal, to okay, to super energetic and positive, to despondent, to dissociated, to hopeful and happy again all within the course of like two days was exhausting. the most unnerving part for me was not knowing which was “real” but what’s helped a lot recently is me validating that all of it is real - but that some of it is residual past pain/trauma from childhood/adolescence. that when i feel so alone and hopeless and trapped it’s not really about the life that i have now, but the pain is from what i went through and it can suck me back in sometimes (even without any apparent triggers) so the breathing through those parts, knowing that they won’t last has been surprisingly helpful

- when i met with my outpatient psychiatrist she told me that she thinks i’m on the autism spectrum. i’ve been seeing her for almost 3 years and we somehow never had this conversation. i asked her how long this has been on her mind and apparently it’s something she’s thought for almost a year, but became more certain of it in the past 6 months. i had started to wonder about this a few weeks ago but never brought it up to her (i wasn’t seeing her while i was in the program). i’m not totally surprised, but still feel like the social aspect is missing? but it does make sense in a lot of respects, especially in terms of rigidity in many aspects of life (including past food rigidities that weren’t related to an eating disorder)

- i’ve also more recently been trying to break some of the rules / strictness from my childhood that i carried over into my life now. i was reading a book a while ago and the author wrote something like, “i escaped the walls of my childhood, but carried that prison with me well into my adulthood” and i resonate with that a great deal. i’m trying to remind myself that i really am free now - as free as i will let myself be and that this idea of being trapped or the feeling of being trapped is just a memory. sometimes it’s easier to be trapped, a lot less room for failure because there’s not much choice involved anyway. the freedom feels very vulnerable and somewhat terrifying? like there’s so far to fall but in the end there aren’t too many things i can’t come back from

- also !! i started climbing again this week. for a few weeks toward the end of april/beginning of may i was too weak to climb since all the changes and stress that resulted made it difficult to eat but now that i’m able to eat more and just feel better overall i can climb again which i’m super stoked about. it’s helped tremendously w/ getting back into a routine and just feeling more present and motivated in my life

[daaziscoolbesties]

minecraft endermen are really weird. theyre unnatural and make me feel off.

when i was a small child like seven years ago i would always play minecraft on creative mode and i made an ugly ass enderman "farm" made out of bricks. i had an enderman spawn egg and id just spam it and the enderman couldnt get out (so i thought). anyways having them in this enclosure was probably so i could feel "powerful" over them because to date theyre still the only mob in minecraft that makes me anxious. even above skeletons(which i used to have a horrible fear of (the real life ones not mc ones)) and spiders (which i still have a horrible fear of (again the real life ones not mc)). anyways the endermen just ended up completely teleporting out of the farm and i checked on my world the next day and they were all gone and i didnt appreciate it (this was the same world where my brother blew up my pets but thats a different story).

anyways back to endermen. besides the fact that i just didnt like dying and i did like building ugly structures, one of the main reasons i didnt play survival much for a while, or if i did id put it on peaceful, was because of the enderman. every time i passed one my heart would drop and if i happened to look it in the eye on accident my throat would feel like its closing up and idk why. if it sounds like im bullshitting you or not remembering correctly i swear im not because it still happens actually.

i play survival a ton more now simply because i enjoy it more, it feels like theres actually a goal to achieve, but i never really make efforts toward said goal(ya know, beating the dragon). none of my worlds are really created with the intention of beating the dragon, and therefore i dont have to worry about endermen. if i happen to be outside my house and theres one there, no worries i just wait for it to go away. it may spook me for a sec but im fine.

but recently me and my sister started a world with the sole purpose of beating the dragon. we may have cheated a little (like putting on keep inventory cause honestly we both suck at pvp and have died so many times) but its okay cause thats it. we still have to fight endermen to get pearls for the end portal. and so we were hanging out in the nether and made a little two block tall hidey hole and id stand by the front and taunt endermen to get them to come close so i could kill them without them being able to get to me and it worked really well actually. except for the fact that to get them to come near i had to get them to aggro onto me and to do that i have to look them in the eye and you know where this is going. and so i was like "it has been so long since i looked an enderman in the eye surely i cant still be scared of them" and i turn to my sister like "<sister> you stay in the hole ill get us some pearls"

so i go out and taunt the dudes and guess what bitch got the pit in their stomach from these fuckers!! thats right bestie and my throat started to close up and i started talking to my sister again but i could tell me voice was off from it and i dont know why it happens but it pisses me off. like theyre not even scary looking theyre just a bit odd. and i continue to do this and kill the endermen and it just. doesnt. stop. my throat keeps closing up and im not "in pain" or anything just inconvenienced like what the fuck dude its a bunch of fucking pixels. i dont know its weird.

and now this part is gonna sound super fuckin stupid but ever since i started watching dsmp i immediately got attached to ranboo (cc! and c!) and knowing that c!ranboo was half enderman made me really think "hm endermen arent that bad. granted i havent interacted with one in a while but still not that bad. perhaps my favorite hostile mob" because you know people get attached to characters and think dumb things. and then again ranboo's character straight up existing and also this one specific headcanon i saw that was like "endermen use telepathy to talk so when a player looks at them all their thoughts get projected into them and it hurts their brain :((" makes me feel kinda bad for aggro-ing them and killing them again even though its literally just some pixels dude. my brain is not kind to me about this stuff and its really dumb.

i dont know what about the endermen staring back at me sets off the sort of fight-or-flight that makes me unable to breathe for a second but its something. its not the fact that their jaws basically unhinge when theyre mad because the throat closing up sensation happens before that. it happens when i look at an enderman and it looks back up at me and holds my gaze. i dont know. i dont know why im worked up(even slightly) over a video game. theyre still my favorite hostile mob i think (not just because of ranboo honestly the other hostile mobs just kinda suck).

and also i like the idea of how humanoid they are. not human. humanoid. they have the basic aspects of a minecraft human- square, head, torso, legs, arms, eyes. most mc skins dont even have mouths anyways just eyes. but the endermen have these features differently than us. their eyes are unnatural, legs and arms too long, body all one color, one that can blend in, and you can only see its purple eyes staring you down from a distance. theyre basically just cryptids.

despite skeletons and even zombies looking closer to the player than the endermen, they still seem the most human-like of all of the mobs. they arent aggressive unless provoked. they dont like eye contact(socially awkward). they like picking up stuff and moving it around. theyre curious (i cant explain this one they just are, okay?). even the sounds they make are just phrases like "hey" "hello" "whats up" distorted and in reverse.

i want to know more about them.

i want to know where they came from.

why theyre found in every dimension.

why they sound like us.

i want explanations, i want to know why they scare us.

i want to know if they know.

if they know that we're like them in some way.

that some of us dont mean harm, but for others thats all they want to do to the endermen.

i saw a post once that said "what taught humans to be wary of things that look human, but arent?" i believe the phenomenon is called uncanny valley. what if in the minecraft universe, the thing that taught us that was endermen. or rather, the thing that taught the endermen that was us? because again, the endermen pose no threat to us unless theyre provoked. by one of us. the endermen try to communicate with us- "⊑⟒⊬" "⍙⊑⏃⏁⌇ ⎍⌿?"- but we kill them without reason. thats why they dont like eye contact, its been ingrained in them through evolution that eye contact with a human/player will end in death, and they dont want it to be theirs, so they attack first.

we- or rather, the first minecrafters, maybe (in the lore(?)) people before the game, taught the endermen to fear us. i mean we literally kill them, use their remains to enter their home dimension, and then kill their leader/mother. they do their best to stop us, but we can respawn and they cant. and then, some people even go as far as to make farms, having them all spawn in one place, crowded, cant teleport out- their only defense mechanism gone- and then are slaughtered for their pearls. and due to the mass of these farms there will be chests upon chests full of pearls that no one's using, i saw someone the other day ask what people do with them and someone straight up said they just burn them like god what a waste.

"but izzy, players make mob farms all the time and not just for endermen!!!1!!11! why are the endermen ones so bad why are you only talking about those1!1!1!!!1" 1) because i can, 2) this is an endermen-themed post, and 3) i dont like the other mobs. and of course im not actually mad at the players who like beating the game and making endermen farms and such, i mean thats what it is its all just a game just a bunch of code, 0's and 1's, so why does it matter why bother writing a whole post on it?

because when you look paste the game, when you read in between those ones and zeroes and discover this non-intentional lore, it can make things so much more,, interesting. this is fanfic material. hell, its probably fanart material too. its all for the content to see what the community can create i guess. or maybe i just really like talking about endermen and this has been on my mind for two days now and once i started typing i couldnt stop.

but yeah, thats my final thoughts.

we, humans, experience uncanny valley about the endermen.

but the endermen experience uncanny valley about the players.