#feels safer when my anxiety is high

[jedi-bird]

Today is a very off feeling day. I don't know why. I have so many things I should be doing and struggled to start them this morning. Finally got myself to focus on finishing winding the embroidery thread and sort out the extra small crochet booklets (one of which I had seven copies of). Put a bunch aside for my friend to take after they house-sit for us and the extras of the extras will be donated. Partner, who was supposed to work from home today, got called into the office for an unknown amount of time so now I'm feeling weird again. Even if they're in their office with the door closed, knowing they're just on the other side of the wall makes me feel a lot better. I think I'm going to go lock myself in the bedroom and try to write, lost notes and forgotten characters be damned.

[morallygreychaoticneutral]

Astarion doesn't ask for affection because he can't..... yet.

Ah, more tea steeping in this seeming endless sea of thoughts. This brew is a bit strong on the heart. Read with caution.

Warning for game spoilers and talk of abuse.

This perspective is from game content only. How anybody cannons their relationships or behaviors is perfectly right. No blame, no shame, it's your game.

I was always miffed at the lack of initiated affection from Astarion as a partner. YOU ask him for a kiss. YOU ask him for a hug. YOU ask him to tell you thank you after being an amazing partner and killing a massive beastie just for him! Brat...

But then I had a sudden realization. Given his past, affection is probably insanely hard to ask for. Like it can be for a lot of us.

Stay awhile and listen. (nerd)

Now when I speak of narcissistic abuse I am only speaking from what I know about it. I have no academic or phycology degree on the matter. Just good ol' tossed in the pond and forced to sink or swim experience.

Astarion spent 200 years under the crushing weight of narcissistic / psychopathic abuse. One of the things these types of abusers love to do is take what you love and make you hate it and then make you hate yourself for ever having liked it to begin with. All very nasty business that. But it's one of the main corner stones for the cage they build to control you.

They make you feel as if the request of a simple hug is the most pathetic thing you could ask for. Or the most selfish thing as it inconveniences them. They don't want it, why should they give it to you?

Shame, belittle, degrade, devalue..

200 years with a master who used him like a tool. 200 years with siblings that fought amongst each other so much comfort was a liability. Nights coming home assaulted only to be mocked for your tears. Insulted for your need of comfort.

"Pathetic! Weak! Disgusting! "

Shame, belittle, degrade, devalue..

Affection was nowhere to be found there, I assure you.

And for a Narc. anything given is expected to be "earned" in any way they see fit. And if you were "rewarded" with anything, it comes at high price.

And how dare you not find it fair. You ingrate!

Shame, belittle, degrade, devalue..

Hugs are pathetic. Kisses are an intrusion. Or they become gateways to other unwanted behaviors. To be held...what are you? A baby? The only way you are going to get held, is down.

Shame, belittle, degrade, devalue.. The pattern continues.

But you ask HIM for a kiss. And he says..

"There is nothing I'd like more."

And he means it.

I'd bet a mountain of gold he wants to just ask you himself. But years of conditioning to expect pain when seeking pleasure probably keeps him in a choke hold. Like rats that are shocked every time they try to eat food out of a dish. They learn it is safer to starve.

"I want to ask Tav for a kiss or a hug, but they might think i'm weak. But if they ask me first then it's them who wants it and they can't degrade me for it because they asked, not me. It's safe then."

"I want to ask Tav for a kiss or hug, but they might reject me for being too needy and shame and berate me for being so selfish or demanding of their time and person. But if they ask they have time and want me to kiss/hug them."

"I want to ask Tav for a kiss or a hug, but my primal brain keeps telling me they might demand more than I want to give in return for it. But if they ask, I have the power of negotiating the outcome."

This leads me to believe he would view sex and affection very differently as well.

Where most find affection safe and nurturing, it's anxiety educing and unsafe. It means there are feelings and if there are feelings there is the risk and fear of rejection or judgment. It's much scarier.

Where most find sex to be connecting and intimate, it's been used so much it's lost any meaning. Something you can do a thousand times over and walk away the second it's done and feel nothing afterward.

This may even be a part of the reason why he wants to stop having sex.

He wants to connect with you in ways denied to him. He wants the experience of being courted, treasured, nurtured. It means so much more to him than sex. It is so much more connecting.

Feeling this way is wretched and lonely. The most basic instinct is to want to seek comfort in the arms of those who love us. But it's broken. The risk is too great.

And it's hard. Because you could be the sweetest most honorable Tav in the whole of Fearun. But after being fed poised apples one too many times, all apples appear poisonous regardless of if is true or not.

I have no doubt that this prickly elf soaks up every second of non sexual affection you give him. And truly is grateful for your patience while he slowly and carefully disarms the safety measures he put in place to survive. The fact that he even allowed you to touch him like that at all was a monumental act of trust. And why not? You are incredible after all.

I'm going to go ask my elf for a kiss now. And then cry in my cup.

[borderline-sanity]

GRWM as I ✨Wake Up with a Panic Attack✨

** None of this is medical advice, and is just a system I’ve worked on for myself. Everybody is different, everyone is in different circumstances.**

When it comes to the fight or flight instinct during panic attacks, I’m 100% a flight person.

I’ve dealt with panic attacks since high school and have been diagnosed with panic disorder. In high school I lived in constant fear of having an attack, which caused the attacks. It was all very cyclical. I have them less often now, but they still happen from time to time.

My go to method is to mix comforting and uncomfortable sensations and to overstimulate myself. I’ve tried deep breathing and relaxing music and the things that should logically help. But they always made me feel worse because I’m acknowledging the panic in such a head on fashion. I try to ground and overstimulate as many senses as I can, so I don’t have the energy or space to feel the panic anymore.

The initial terror, it’s going to happen. How fast you can pivot depends on the severity of the panic.

I tell myself I’m an expert in panic attack management. I have over 12 years of experience in the field and have worked tirelessly to perfect my methods. I have to convince myself I’m a pro at this, and have a 100% success rate of not imploding from anxiety. I narrate what I’m going to do and why it helps me specifically, basically what I’m doing here.

—-

My first stop is consistently my bathroom. I go through my bin of old lotions and pick a scent I have specially set aside for panic attacks. I use something that’s way too overpowering, but having something that smells bad to you is also an option. Sometimes I’ll use two different smells. The goal is to have a scent to ground you.

When I have a panic attack, my body fails at temperature regulation. Typically my feet are cold and clammy. So, I like to run some hot water in the tub and just stand in it for awhile. As I’m standing there, I apply whatever lotion or perfume I grabbed. Once my feet are warmed up, I get out of the tub and only sorta dry my feet. Then I put socks on my damp feet. Why? Because I hate the way it feels. And that harmless discomfort is going to distract me as I make my way to the next room.

I pick up a hoodie from the closet. Since I don’t know which way my temperature is going to flux, it’s nice to have on hand. I also have a big comfy shawl I use only during panic attacks.

I have to go down stairs to get to my kitchen. I take them really slow, especially with the damp sock situation. If I’m feeling too weak, I’ll just sit down and scoot down them. My instinct is flight, so staying in one room too long is no good. I usually feel safer being on the ground floor.

—-

Things might get messy in the kitchen, but that’s for future you to deal with. I used to keep a fresh lemon in the house at all times, but have moved away from that, opting for lemon juice. You can either bite into a lemon, or swish some lemon juice in your mouth and spit it out. A benefit of a fresh lemon is that it’s more messy. You’ll have lemon juice on your face and hands and that stickiness, at least for me, is an awful sensation.

You’re going to chase the lemon down with something else. I like to grab sour candy, like Warheads. But something like Pop Rocks also works. Picking an opposite flavor, like pudding or beef jerky is an option. You’re just trying to overload your tastebuds by making another harmless, but powerful distraction.

Alternatively, this step can be done when you’re in the bathroom. Swishing mouth wash and following it up with something sour is miserable. The face I make in the mirror is ridiculous and sometimes that’s enough to help soothe me.

—-

Like I said, I’m a flight person. So the next steps I either do pacing the house or on a treadmill. It just depends how steady my legs are feeling.

I grab my headphones, connected to my phone, and my tablet. I put the headphones on one ear and play music. The music is going to change every time. Sometimes you want something soothing, sometimes you want something loud. Sometimes you want music you love, sometimes you want music you hate. Having different playlists prepped helps you figure out what you’re in the mood for. I think one hit wonders are also a great option. There’s a familiarity and nostalgia that just hits the spot sometimes.

There are a few options for the tablet. You can put on a movie or tv show, and listen with your un-headphoned ear. I also like doing crossword puzzles or logic puzzles. It usually goes poorly, but I get so wrapped up in it. I’ve also found ‘Simon Says’ videos and follow those. Anything challenging and low stakes works here.

And this is where things usually begin to ease up. If my legs are too wobbly, I’ll just lie on the floor. Sometimes I go back to the lemon juice / sour candy. But eventually, my body is just exhausted and overstimulated. And there’s no more room for panic.

Once I feel myself winding down, I’ll get an electrolyte heavy drink. My go to is Pedialyte Zero Sugar packets but it doesn’t really matter what you use. I’ll have something light to eat if I feel up to it, usually just crackers.

When the panic has finally eases up and I feel safe again, I’m usually left exhausted. I fall asleep wherever I land, usually on the floor because it just feels nice and sturdy. When I wake up, I take care of any messes I left behind. And I drink more water.

—-

Important Notes and Additional Tactics:

Drink lots of water. Just have water dead drops everywhere.

Make it a point to keep yourself stocked up on supplies. Future you needs to restock supplies and put things back for next time.

Fidget toys are great and should also be in every room if possible. I like to use different ones depending on which room I’m in, just to keep up variety.

Ice cubes under the armpits or on the back of the neck are great. I guess anywhere works, I just find the cold distracting. As they melt, I’m left with water on my clothes. Similar to the damp socks, I hate this feeling.

My plant misting bottle stays in the kitchen and I’ll use it to spray my face or arms. Having glasses makes this more annoying, which is the goal.

I personally like to turn on as many lights as I can, but I understand this isn’t always possible.

Stepping outside can be helpful, just be mindful about it.

Reach out to people if that’s an option and you’re comfortable with it.

Walk through your routine when you aren’t in the middle of a panic attack. Developing this type of muscle memory helps you to be familiar and prepared. Remember, you’re the expert in panic attacks.

Take time to reflect on things. The day after a panic attack, I find a quiet place. I think back to everything I was feeling and who I was during the panic attack. And I talk to that past version of me and comfort her. Sometimes I find it easier to write it all out.

—-

I typed this while experiencing a panic attack. Usually I just narrate these things to myself. Recently, my older brother has started having attacks similar to mine. My hope is that sharing what I do to get myself through a panic attack will help at least one person. It is truly one of the most defeating and vulnerable experiences. I feel like I’ve lost so much time to my anxiety, I’d like to think I can help someone avoid the same struggles my younger self dealt with.

**None of this is medical advice, and is just a system I’ve worked on for myself. Everybody is different, everyone is in different circumstances.

[3liza]

i have another pet tip, for all pets not just dogs: take them to the vet young and/or soon after you adopt them, BEFORE something is wrong with them. either book a basic wellness appt for checks (no shots or procedures) or just ask the vet if it's ok if you drop by with the pet either on leash or in a carrier and just get as far as the waiting room or outside the clinic if they're still doing COVID airlock protocols or busy. plan for this to take several hours. let the pet approach the vet office entrance and hear/see/smell the waiting room, windows into the room, the door, all the spots around the door, etc. engage positively with them if they're feeling interested, soothe them if they're nervous, and give high value treats if possible. maybe assign a super S tier treat JUST for the vet (bacon, shrimp, stinkiest cheese, whatever). feeding them can short circuit their anxiety loops (not all the time for every animal, but as a general guideline). even a single positive exposure to the vet office environment will help next time you bring them in. a treat jackpot for every time they act brave and explore further is a great technique

vet visits aren't just more pleasant when the pet is not freaking out, they're safer for the vet and safer for the pet, not just because animals injure themselves and humans when scared, but also because it's a lot harder to examine a panicky cat or aggressive dog. if your pet is sick and you bring it to the vet and the vet needs four techs just to restrain it to take a temperature, that vet is not going to be able to get a good observation of the symptoms. they won't be able to get a baseline blood pressure or heart rate. panic alone can kill small animals like rabbits and birds.

when you meet the nurse or tech or vet at an appointment, pass them some of the special treats and ask them to feed some to the animal if the animal is willing to take them and it doesn't interfere with the appointment. vets are usually able to spare a couple seconds to do this to make the visit easier and the next visit even easier. i did this for my dog and he thinks the vets are his best friends even though he's had multiple surgeries, vaccinations, exams where he was nervous or uncomfortable, etc.

not all animals can be acclimated to the vet but most can. in an emergency it can make a huge difference whether your pet is a behavior case when you bring them in to the office or not, which is not the vet's fault but a factor of animal behavior. you can plan for it and make it easier on yourself!

edit: buying a muzzle in your dog's size and getting him used to it is an even bigger bonus tip. vets will love you for this. even good dogs sometimes need a muzzle. pain and fear do weird things to animal behavior

[valley-of-headcanons]

hii! could you do a headcannon for Alex's emotions and how he would react when his first child is born ?( sorry for the bad grammar, English isn't my 1st language )

alex's first child || headcanons

when faced with the birth of his first child, alex is determined to rewrite the wrong-doings of his father.

warnings: abusive dad mentions, self deprecating on alex's part, female bodied farmer with gender neutral pronouns

requested by: anon! hii, tysm for the request! this is a really cute one that i enjoyed writing a ton! alex is so underrated and his storyline breaks my heart. i love redemption arcs more than anything. anyway! hope you enjoy <3

• Alex has always wanted to have children, but he's always been extremely nervous. He knew that he was not raised in a traditional household, despite his grandparents' rather traditional views. His father was a monster, and he realized this more and more as he grew. When he got to his father's age, more and more he thought to himself: “How could you treat a child like that?”

• When he first found out that you were pregnant, he was over the moon. He was so excited to be a dad! He was going to do all the cool stuff that he never got to do as a child. He was going to play sports with this kid, take them on father-son/father-daughter dates, and love them unconditionally! All the lovely feeling of being a parent swarmed him immediately. Everything was good ... until he got in his head.

• Late night thoughts are never good. When his partner is asleep beside him, about half way through their pregnancy, Alex didn't think the bad thoughts could get to him. But they certainly can. Y'know, aren't mental issues genetic? What if having this kid uncovers some mental issues that he never knew he had? What if he fucks up, making this kid feel as worthless as he felt as a kid? What if he turns into his father?

• That man made Alex feel like a completely different person than what he actually was. The confidence, the light, the joy behind his eyes ... every single time that man popped into his mind, it seemed to be snatched away from him. What if his child feels like that about him? His father is just ... that man. That man who makes them feel like shit and laughs about it. The kind of man that leaves after the damage is done.

• His anxieties were quiet, reserved for nights when you were getting your well deserved rest. He didn't open up to you about it until a bit closer to the date, when his nerves were at an all time high. You noticed there was an uneasiness about him, which was highly unusual. His dam just ... broke. It didn't take too much of a push, and you could tell he hadn't had much sleep. He tried his best not to cry, but he couldn't help it. When it came to his father, he was a defenseless little boy.

• You took him into your arms and held him, consoling his worries. Alex knew the damage of his father, and in knowing that, he would be able to prevent those actions. He cried until he felt a bit safer, resting his head on your stomach and closing his eyes. Maybe the child in your stomach understood Alex's cries, because he felt something softly graze his cheek.

• Soon, the time came to deliver the baby. Alex rushed you to the hospital, at your side consistently. He was there for your every need. He was more focused on you and your health than his own anxiety-ridden thoughts. There was a scratch at the back of his mind, putting him a bit on edge, but that didn't matter right now. His partner was going through a terrifying major life event right now. That may be a bit more important.

• After everything was all said and done, Alex was tired. He certainly wasn't as tired as you were, but he was exhausted. He sat with you, holding your hand as the child was brought into your room for the first time. It finally hit. That's it, he's a father now. You were the first to hold them, you did all the labor after all. After you were done for a moment, you handed them off to Alex.

• That baby could fit in the palm of Alex's hand, but it was his whole world. A cute little bundle of joy, eyes barely open enough to see the world it had just been brought into. Alex then felt his own eyes begin to pour. His little buddy. He held the child close to his chest, pressing the most gentle kisses on their forehead.

• “Hey, little buddy ... I'm your dad, and I'm gonna make sure nothing's gonna happen to you ... you're so tiny! ... how could anyone wanna hurt somethin' so small ...? ... I'm gonna make sure you're taken care of, as much as I can ... I love you so much, little buddy. I promise you'll have the best life ...”

[wrencatte]

I’m going to die here…

I don’t wanna die! I don’t wanna die!

Please someone put me out of my misery.

Someone save me.

          Let me die. Let me die. Please let me die.

Rotting. Rotting. Under – under my skin – crawling – eating – under, under, skin –

I didn’t do anything. Please. Please.

                                                I’m so hungry.

The walls – the walls – stop – stop –

                                                                                                Water…water –

He’s missing for only a few hours before they find him.

This is a few hours too many.

Curled up in a tiny ball, legs tucked under his poncho protectively, he almost blends in with the shadows. If it weren’t for the undercurrent of despair in his signature like a homing beacon in the Force, Cere thinks she would’ve missed him completely. It’s a far cry from the laughter in the Mantis this morning.

Cere drops into the little room from above. Her landing is loud in the tiny space, yet Cal doesn’t react. He doesn’t even twitch. She shines her torch somewhere near his face, whispering his name – and gets nothing. She ducks down to check for consciousness though the Force is subdued and muted, not that streaking fire that Cal normally is, and her stomach sinks at the sight of a dull, listless stare.

“Oh, Cal,” she breathes.

She brushes his hair from his face, tucking it behind his ears. It’s getting long, she notes. There’s a massive bruise in the middle of his forehead, black-dark already. His lips are red with blood, speckling his chin. She checks under his poncho for more injuries, using the Force to aid her when her eyes fail in the dim light, and finds nothing life-threatening she can sense, so she pinches her torch between her knees and gathers his hands in hers.

They’re cold.

Cere cradles them carefully, inspecting the damage. More blood, caked into his nail beds and under them, glistening on the tips where the skin is rubbed raw. He’s missing nails on his pinky and ring fingers. She glances down and finds smears of red – and white scores in the stonework, and a fingernail laying there oh-so innocently. Her heart aches. What happened to you?

She squeezes his hands rhythmically, partly to keep him warm and partly, partly because this is just something they do, when they’re able, when Cal gets caught up in a drawn-out echo. He likes the anchor to the present, he told them. He never feels it when he’s actually in the echo itself, but it’s always the first thing he’s aware of when he comes out of it. It makes him feel safer, knowing he’s not alone.

This doesn’t look like an echo, but even after all these months she’s nowhere near an expert on psychometry.

“Come back, Cal,” she whispers anyway, his hands so cold and his gaze so empty.

He doesn’t respond.

“Cere,” Merrin hisses from above. “The system will auto-boot soon. The droid cannot stop this one.”

“I’ve got him,” she calls back. Merrin says nothing more, but she sees the Nightsister hover at the edge of the ceiling door, peering down at them with barely hidden anxiety.

Cere is gentle as she gathers Cal into her arms, the Force helping her bear the weight. She doesn’t want to let him go, but she pulls her power close and raises him slowly until he’s high enough for Merrin to take. She double checks that nothing was left behind then follows them up with a Force assisted jump.

Merrin cradles Cal in her arms like he’s something precious, her expression pained and horrified. His eyes are still open, thin slivers of dull green between his eyelashes. His head falls over the crook of Merrin’s arm, exposing his throat in a way that makes Cere swallow thickly. Merrin nudges him until his temple is resting on her shoulder instead, curled up smaller than either of them have ever seen.

“What did they do to you?” Merrin asks, voice low and dangerous, the air sparking green around her. “I will kill them.”

Cere lays a hand on her shoulder. “We take care of Cal first,” she says. Merrin glares at her for a long moment before she reluctantly nods then climbs to her feet. “BeeDee! We have him!”

The droid dashes out of the shadows, whirl-clicking quietly, and clambers up Merrin to perch on her shoulder. His optics flash as he tries to start up his scanner, but they’re too damaged. He bwoops almost silently. It sounds wretched through his ruined speakers.

Cere taps his chassis in reassurance before they're off, alarm blaring loudly behind them. It's too late though. They rush into the Mantis just as the guards mobilize, shouts starting up when they find the guards around the cellblock Cal was in already taken care of.

[siffrin-enthusiast]

my disability post is blowing up again so let me tell you the funniest things that have happened to me while being disabled or using various mobility aids. feel free to add your own btw

when getting discharged from the hospital for surgery, i was "taught" how to use crutches for less than three minutes. i checked the timestamps between discord messages. it cost hundreds of dollars btw

my high school's one and only wheelchair ramp into the auditorium was too steep to be used by a wheelchair even with the help of a handrail. instead of doing anything about this, the staff made it a point of personal pride to wheel me up despite me asking them not to for every. single. assembly. disability inclusion <3

getting recognized as a regular by the receptionists at the hospital was. a little embarrassing.

shoutout to one physical therapist in particular who realized i had a tremor and then decided to exacerbate it for. uhhhh. she didn't even say why. she just wanted to see why. anyway it set me back like four months

some sidewalks were just UNUSABLE (bumpiness, width, debris). like it was literally safer to be in the ROAD in my wheelchair then some fucking sidewalks.

after i had just gotten out of said wheelchair and used the elevator, i took too long going through the elevator doors and the doors decided to crush me. thank you elevator, very cool!

i was seen by several doctors who did not know what my condition was despite me putting it on every single patient form and sending pdfs of my diagnoses and symptoms in advance of every appointment

remember that surgery i mentioned? so it turns out there was not a problem with the affected joint. it was just hypermobile. that is a twenty minute test. they did not think to test me for hypermobility. before doing surgery on me. anyway i have generalized hypermobility and that ankle is now the worst joint in my entire body

almost got sent to truancy court despite every absence having an excuse note from an ER clinic or a neurologist checking me for. like. literal actual brain cancer. STAT orders and all.

speaking of my high school, it took seven minutes to get between two of my classes in high school because there was one elevator, located in the center of the building, and these classes were right on the left end of the building. when i was able to walk the route, it took under two minutes. this happened a lot, actually.

doctors: you needs this medication. if you want to stay out of the er you are going to take it. some guy named frank in insurance who hasnt even looked at the file: nah u really dont :/

also thing that seems obvious but you don't realize it until you're in that situation: if the elevator is broken and you cannot walk stairs or if the disabled door will not open with the button press and you can't open it yourself, you are just Stuck there. enjoy!

waited a year for a specialist appointment that lasted twenty minutes and got told nobody had done the research into what i had even though this doctor had seen dozens of cases exactly like mine. boo womp

remember that hypermobility i mentioned? it was actually picked up by a physical therapist in our first session. she did not mention it until i asked her about the possibility of being hypermobile four months later. she "thought i knew already".

"maybe it's just school anxiety," says the doctor while looking at my sitting heart rate of 150 bpm, "are you anxious about going to school?"

[lilysqueaks]

Drug Education Essay

Big Small nerding out warning. 😅

When i first started smoking weed i was surprised how much bullshit I was told before, due to everything related to the war on drugs. So i started learning anything and everything about every major drug to learn about their effects, their dangers & how to consume them safely. I did this because i wanted to find out what drugs i would ever consider consuming, and even for ones i wouldn't, i wanted to know how to advise and/or assist people who would.

The following will be a long essay about some of these things, though since this a HUGE topic, i won't be able to cover all points i would like to by any means.

Safer use

To consume drugs safely with minimal risk it's important to balance 3 different aspects.

Set (Your mindset and general headspace)

Setting (Your surroundings/environment)

Dosage (Amount and method of consumption)

1. Set

The set refers to your mindset.

How do you feel mentally/emotionally?

Are things wheighing on your mind?

Do you feel stressed recently?

How do you feel physically? (tired, exhausted, strained, restless?)

Can your body deal with the drugs effects?

2. Setting

The settings describes your immediate surroundings while doing any drug.

Are you in a comfortable environment?

Are you with friends you trust?

Do you have someone with you who is sober, for whatever may come up?

3. Dosage

Dosage refers the amount of any drug you're taking. Taking multiple drugs at once often causes drugs to potentiate each other. If you think about mixing them make sure to check if they're compatible with each other. (https://combo.tripsit.me/)

Balance in All things

Imagine these 3 aspects as a triangle to balance out. When you have a really good Set & Setting, you may go with higher dose, but at the same time if either isn't stable, it may be a better idea to not take drugs today, or go with a low dose and go from there.

Trip Sitter

It's highly recommended to have a trip sitter with you, especially if you take something for the first time, or in high doses.

A trip sitter is someone who you trust, stays sober, can comfort people having a hard time, and deal with outsiders and situations that may arise related or unrelated to the trip.

On (https://tripsit.me/) you can find guides for tripsitting, as well as a webchat for when you may take some drugs alone, and you're looking for someone to talk to.

Drug Categories

Drugs can be put into categories of:

Uppers (e.g. Nicotine, Caffeine, Amphetamines, Cocaine)

Empathogenes (e.g. MDMA)

Psychedelic stimulants (e.g. 2C-B)

Psychedelics (e.g. LSD, Psylocybin)

Cannabinoids (e.g. Weed)

Dissociatives (e.g. Ketamin)

Downers (e.g. Alcohol, Benzodiazipines, Heroin)

Many drugs may overlap or cross the lines of said categories fluidly.

You can find detailed information about each drug in this amazing database by tripsit.me.

https://tripsit.me/factsheets

I'll try my best to describe these categories, but please forgive me that i often can't be as clear or explanatory as i would like to be, because most drug experiences are very unique, and it's kind of like a color you've never seen, music you've never heard and art you've never felt before, if you haven't experienced the drug, or group of drugs previously.

And even if you have substantial experience (pun intended) a difference in set, setting and dosage can have a big impact in shaping the journey in that instance. This Especially true for pychadelic-(like) substances.

Uppers

Uppers as the name suggests are substances that commonly make you more aware, awake, give you energy, and strengthen ego. Most ADHD medication also falls into this category like Methylphenidate (Ritalin), or Dexamphetamine (Vyvanse).

Most uppers can be strongly addictive though.

Empathogenes

Empathogenes are substances that strengthen your feelings of empathy, and allow you to connect and relate stronger to what other people feel, and allow you to handle your own feelings less inhibited, more clear, and decrease anxiety. Which makes MDMA, for example, great for therapy, which gets adapted by more and more countries nowadays.

Many of these work by making the body release a lot of happiness chemicals like Serotonin. Which can lead to strong hangovers the day after, especially if they're dosed too high. Imagine your "physical and mental batteries" being drained of their happinness hormones in a short period of time. They are often considered between psychedelics & uppers.

Psychedelics

Authors note: Honestly the hardest for me to describe, since they're a very special experience, and every time is different than the last. Psychedelics make you feel everything more intense and vivid. This ranges from body feel, to your thoughts. They decrease your own ego, which makes you able to deal with issues, and things weighing on your mind in a more objective way. This can also make some experiences quite difficult, because you may not be ready to accept certain things you learn about yourself. (E.g. i accepted on a very profound LSD trip that i am trans.)

Psychedelics don't cause a physical dependency, and psychological dependencies are very rare. Since these experiences are often very exhausting, making you want to take a break after consuming them. Most psychedelics like triptamines, lysergamides, and phenylethylamides cause a very strong tolerance in the body immediately after taking them.

So even taking them 2 days in a row you'll need quite a higher dosage to make them work at all, it is often said that after the third day they won't work at all though i can't confirm that since i have never tried that. It's also basically impossible to physically overdose on any of the common psychedelics, therefore there are no deaths directly related to psychadelics. (Assuming you get what you think you're consuming, which isn't a given in an illegal market.)

Psychedelic stimulants

The psychedelic stimulants are a mix of uppers, empathogenes & psychedelics. Which can give some very interesting experiences, especially eye opening ones.

They are often a bit easier to handle than the common psychedelics, but some can have some nasty, terrible, and dangerous side effects when overdosed.

Dissociatives

These are quite hard to describe as well. These substances dissociate body, mind, and feelings. They can lead to making you observe the situation like an outsider. Imagine it kind of like lucid dreams. Bodily functions can be inhibited, or even paralyzed. For example Ketamin is used as a narcotic.

One of the groups i personally have the least experience with to be honest, so i can't go really deeper in here, but they're also generally quite hard to describe, and have to be experienced.

Cannabinoids

Cannabinoids are the main psychoactive elements within the cannabis plant. (There are also synthetic cannabinoids, but we'll ignore them here.) There are hundreds of different cannabinoids in each plant making a unique feeling to whatever strain you might be consuming.

They can be generally organized into 2 groups.

Sativa

Indica

Sativa

Sativa strains are often stronger on the mind, than the body. They have kind of a psychedelic like effect, and mainly affect your way of thinking.

Indica

Indica strains refer to the classic body feel described with cannabis. The couch potato like feeling. Giving you a body high which makes you feel very comfortable, but also often not in the mood to move.

There are also many hybrid strains, and most of what you'd consuming will have effects of both.

Due to their varied nature cannabinoids are usually categorized as a mix of psychedelics & downers.

Downers

Downers are substances which usually have a regressive effect on the consciousness. Many substances here can lead to feelings of reduced inhibitions, self assurance & dreamyness. And some may lead to repressing reality. Imagine like alcohol drunkness, inhibiting certain bodily functions, reducing conscious inhibitions etc.

These often are also very addicting substances.

Below are 2 images from a german book i read many years ago, about many many different drugs & drug groups. Most of the knowledge here i also referenced from that book, since it has been hard for me to put all of this into words, and keep important points in mind.

The following image shows the different drug groups in a nice diagram for visualisation. The black bar between Upper & Downer is a strong seperator. So don't think these 2 groups are close to each other. From top left to bottom left: Upper, Empathogenes, Psychedelic stimulants, Psychedelics, Cannabinoids, Dissociatives, Downers.

Source: M3MORI3S: Erinnerungen eines Psychonauten - Nitemare (2015)

The second picture here is the same visualisation but instead of groups with different drugs. Even though it's in german, most of the substances have the same, or similar names in english.

Source: M3MORI3S: Erinnerungen eines Psychonauten - Nitemare (2015)

Thanks for listening to my Ted talk, I'll be here all week. This is one of my nerd topics, since i learned basically everything i could learn about this topic many, many years ago. And it's important to me to inform people, so they're able to consume drugs informed and safer.

Always be aware that every drug can be dangerous, and it's important to know how to consume a drug to minimize risks.

If you have any questions or just want to talk about this lovely hyperfixation of mine please feel free to reply or DM me.

Actually if you have read this far, please let me know i would love to know if anyone cares about my midnight ramblings.

Also thanks to @greenpanties for editing my infodump into something readably coherent. (Please help it's 1 am and I was not ready for Lily to do this)

[crimsonvictory]

Temptation

Minors DNI

Word Count: 7.4K

Tags: Simon Riley x Reader, Ghost x Reader, Ghost smut

Warnings: mentions of drug use, mentions of anxiety/panic attacks, inexperienced reader, sexual tension, overstimulation, p-in-v sex, CONSENT IS IMPORTANT, sub!Simon if you squint

Notes: Thoughts of neighbor Simon helping you relax has been PLAGUING MY BRAIN

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

It starts small – an uncomfortable feeling in the back of your throat. A tinge of anger after you arrive at your work station, abundant disarray from your careless coworkers. You feel your eye twitch, fidgeting against your upper cheek as your nerves start to fray. It was only Monday. A soft groan falls from your lips. You fight to keep the closing of your throat, blink back hot, angry tears as you take in a shaky breath. Start small, you tell yourself.

You’ve recently discovered that your own brain can be a blessing and a curse. On most days, it works in a routine manner, allowing you to get into a never-ending groove. It makes your work days pass quickly and you leave feeling accomplished. Today is not one of those days. An immediate halt in your ever-flowing process has been determined by your coworkers. You try to repeat a happy mantra, forcing yourself to be as positive about the situation as possible – it’s what you’ve been working on in therapy. But that’s the thing about a spiral, once it starts – it’s damn near impossible to unwind. You take your metaphorical scissors and chop blindly, hoping you catch a tail-end.

The morning quickly transitions into the late afternoon and you disappointingly discover that the goal you had set for yourself was highly unattainable. Holding yourself to a very high standard, you got angry – not meeting your self-planned progression. Thus, starting another spiral.  An eight-hour shift creeped into a ten-and-a-half-hour shift. You hadn’t eaten since last night and the hunger pains gnawing at your stomach allowed for nausea to slowly creep in.

With shaking hands, you finally called your stopping point, grabbing your keys and slamming your office door shut.  Most employees were gone for the day, leaving the parking lot eerily empty. The air outside was humid, heavy. Taking a few deep breaths did nothing to soothe the nagging feeling of an approaching panic attack. Sweat builds on your brow and under your arms. A self-awareness of how uncomfortable your clothes are really starts to dawn on you. You need to get home.

It blooms sharply in your chest, slow invisible hands sliding up, up, up to your throat and squeezing. You struggle to catch your breath, trying to focus on getting over in the right-hand lane so that you could deal with this in private. Your way home was a blur, one that didn’t have music playing on the radio. The scenery zips past you, white lines on the road inching slower and slower as you turned down your street. Your mind was somewhere else – work – worrying about what you were going to have to do the next week to get yourself caught back up. Parking your car, you rip the keys out of the ignition and throw your door open, dropping your keys in the process.

“Fuck,” you grumble, bending down to pick them up.

A low whistle rings out behind you. You don’t know why, but it makes you instantly angry. Attention, (especially unwanted) was fairly common in your line of work. You snatch your keys up in your hands, pulling yourself up way too quickly, making your head spin. You grit your teeth, turning in the direction of the whistle.

Simon.

You had been neighbors for quite some time, but had probably spoken a total of ten words to him. You’ve never taken it personally, he’s busy – away for months at a time. If you were to be honest, you would say that you enjoy the solitude. When he is home, however, you feel safer. (You’d never tell him that). Although you can’t see him (bastard doesn’t have his porch light on), you know he’s staring right at you. You feel your eyelids squint in annoyance, a sneer pulling your top lip taught.

“What?” you gripe out, still overstimulated from your days’ work.

“Jus’ appreciatin’, he simply states, accent thick.

You scoff, rolling your eyes.

“What? Can’t take a compliment, lovie?” he prods, a bit of humor in his voice.

He steps out from the darkness, coming into your line of vision. His arms are folded over themselves, grey t-shirt pulling taught across his broad chest. Your eyes focus on the smattering of ink on his forearm before trailing up to meet his eyes that peer out from a plain black balaclava. He’s sans grease paint, so you’re able to see his eyes – which are unblinking. You have no idea what expression he’s pulling and his hard gaze makes you uncomfortable. You feel your brows furrow in annoyance, head pounding from your self-inflicted whiplash. You shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts.

“I don’t have time for this,” you grumble, hiking your bag back onto your shoulder and quickly walking over to your door.

You fumble with the keys, dropping them again. The action nearly brings you to tears. You bite back the lump that forms in your throat, trying your best to hurry and get through the door so you don’t have to embarrass yourself anymore. You slam the door shut, leaning against the cool metal as tears prick in your eyes. They’re hot and angry, spilling over your cheeks as you finally let the dam break. You take a couple minutes to let yourself cry, sobbing softly into your hand. Cold metal bites into your back, providing an arousal of goosebumps across your skin.

It’s an ugly, but much needed. You tried rationalizing with yourself that it was a justified cry, but the tarnished voice of deprecation comes up. Telling you that you did this to yourself and your feelings about the situation were not justified. You know that you work yourself to hard, hold yourself to a high standard that even you cannot reach, but just knowing that your hard work will never be appreciated starts a burning sensation in your chest.

It brings up another bubble of tears, they spill over your cheeks fatly, soaking the collar of your shirt. You’re gasping for air, choking on the angry bitter feeling that has made a temporary home within you. You hate feeling sorry for yourself. Embarrassment fills in your chest for snapping at Simon. Although he could be rather annoying at times, he was never any real harm to you.

A sharp rap of knuckles against your metal door has you scrambling to get up. You quickly wipe your tears the best you can, sniffing and opening your door a crack. You’re met with those familiar wide shoulders again. You’d never been this close before and it’s intimidating. He’s nearly blocking out your porch light. His shoulders nearly take up your entire doorway and you only realize that you’ve been staring too long when he finally clears his throat. Your eyes snap back to his unblinking ones. Although you think him to be, you don’t truthfully think that he is trying to intimidate you. His head is slightly tilted, angling his gaze to your puffy face.

“You been cryin’?” he asks, voice almost hinting concern.

You look down quickly, clearing your throat and mumble out a “no”.

“Liar.”

“Caught me red handed, or red nosed if you really think about it,” you halfheartedly joke.

That almost pulls laugh out of him, he huffs, amused. You feel a gloved finger tilt your chin up, forcing eye contact, his eyes soften when focused on you. You let your eyes lock onto his for a moment for flicking them to the side.

“Look at me,” he murmurs softly.

You feel a blush creeping up your neck, letting your eyes slowly wander back to his. Simon’s gaze is intense, almost looking through you, breaking down the resolve that you had quickly thrown together when you opened the door. A fluttering of nervousness settles in your stomach and you want to run, but you cannot – entranced by the sudden encounter.

“You need to relax.”

“What could you possibly have to help me relax?” you ask, voice (almost) wavering.

He gives you the answer by holding up a blunt between his two thick fingers. You feel your mouth drop open, surprised at his offer. There’s a small crinkle around his eyes, indicating a smile. You burst out into nervous laughter, teeth catching your lip.

“Somethin’ funny?” he asks eyes narrowing, faux defensiveness coating his words.

You shake your head, heat blazing on your cheeks.

“I’ve uh- never…” you trail off.

It’s his turn to laugh – a soft huff of air. He shakes his head.

“Course not, little prude,” there’s no malice behind his words, he’s grinning, you can tell by how his mask moves.

You could even bet that his nose scrunched up deliciously on his face.

“You gonna let me in?” he asks, a bit hesitant for your answer.

“No, I don’t think I will,” you say with a small grin, stepping aside.

—

You had excused yourself to change into some more comfortable clothes, opting for an old oversized band tee and a pair of shorts. Splashing your face with cold water helps calm your buzzing nerves – activating your diver’s reflex. A short huff of a sigh escapes your lips, leaving your lungs empty. Your reflection peers back at you, eyes still a bit puffy from your crying earlier.

You don’t really know how you’re feeling at the moment. Nervous? A nagging familiar feeling in your stomach was making you wary. You pick at your fingernails, a comforting habit as you try to move your feet, but you’re a bit stuck.

“You comin’?” Simon asks, voice loud in the previously quiet air, it carries down the hall and into your bathroom.

You jump, blinking before taking the first step out onto your plush carpet. He’s made himself comfortable by the time you get back,  stretched out on your couch, big frame taking up the most of it. His left arm is slung behind the cushion, other arm on his knee. The blunt sits on your coffee table, abandoned. Your eyes flick to it – a devious thing – or so you’ve been told. You didn’t know what it’s affects were personally, only by word of mouth.

You mentally tell yourself that everything is fine. Your eyes flick back to Simon – a strange addition to your apartment. It’s like he fits right in but is also way out of place. He’s leaning comfortably to the side of your couch in a way that reminds you of a relaxed cat. Your eyes drift down to his black sweatpants. They stretch across his thighs in a delicious way – almost as if they might be a size too small. Did he do that on purpose? You pull your eyes away and up to his face, only to make eye contact. You blush.

“Now who’s admirin’?” he jokes.

You smile sheepishly, shuffling over to him and sitting down on the opposite side of the couch. He’s taken your normal spot, but you don’t tell him that. You curl your clothed feet up and under your thighs, snuggling down against your plush cushions. You hum softly, filling the silence. It’s not terribly uncomfortable, but just on the verge. You shuffle around a bit, trying to get comfortable. Simon leans up, reaching for the discarded blunt on your coffee table. He picks it up between his thumb and pointer finger, letting it rest there as he moves his hips up to grab the lighter in his pocket. Grumbling, he brings his right hand to his covered mouth, grabbing the fabric of the glove between his clothed mouth and pulling it off before letting it fall to your floor.

Immediately, your eyes dart to his exposed hand, watching him dig around in the pocket of his sweatpants.

“Ah,” he tuts softly, holding up the lighter with a skull on the front in triumph.

You watch him closely, trying to anticipate his next move. You’re nervous and hope to God he can’t tell. Taking the lighter in right hand, he brings the end of the rolled paper to the flame, slowly watching as it ignites. Your eyes fall to the burning orange of the herb, watching it lick around the thin paper. The smell faintly drifts over to your nose. It’s an odd, familiar thing – you scrunch your nose. That pulls a laugh from Simon.

“‘S not that bad,” he says.

His voice sounds less muffled than usual. That’s when you look up, a soft gasp leaving your lips. He has the balaclava rolled up on his nose, exposing the lower half of his face. His lips are plush – the prettiest shade of pink. You want to burn the color onto your skin. Simon brings the rolled paper to his lips, parting them and letting it dangle before taking a long inhale. He sits silent, letting the smoke fill his lungs for a few seconds before tilting his head back and slowly exhaling.

Tendrils of smoke fill your apartment, you watch in the soft, amber lighting that your lamp provides, as it trickles around in the air before slowly disappearing. You fight a shiver of nervousness.

“How long?”

A hum from him, the effects of the herb relaxing him already. His heavy-lidded eyes fall to your lips.

“How long are you in for?” you ask again, shy under his gaze.

A shrug, slow and languid as he answers.

“Never know, but hopefully a coupl-a days.”

You nod, turning your head over your shoulder to look at your front door. The sun has set, the faint blue hue of the moon trickles through the windows. It spirals like the smoke, disappearing before it hits your carpet. You hear him inhale again, a soft woosh as the paper burns. Simon sinks down lower into your cushions, nearly melting into relaxation. A soft sigh escapes through his parted lips. It gets your attention.

Turning your head back to look at him, you rest your chin on your knee. His eyes follow your every move. His reflexes have slowed, eyes taking a moment to catch up – almost if they were floating in syrup. A crooked smile – charmingly so, makes its way onto his face. He’s gorgeous – rightfully so. Although you cannot see the full vision of his face, your mind can somewhat fill in the blanks.

“Fancy a try?” he holds out the blunt for you, a dangerous invitation.

He must notice your hesitation because suddenly he’s sitting up, scooting himself closer to where you are curled up on the couch.

“C’mon, lovie. I’ll help ‘ya,” he coos softly, breaking down the barriers of your hesitantly built walls.

A large hand gently encircles your small wrist, curling long fingers back into themselves. He pulls gently, getting you up into a sitting position.

“Simon, I-“ you start, hands shaking slightly.

He shushes you, petting your hair softly and tucking a stray piece behind your ear. It’s instantly calming – a soft brush of his forefinger against your burning skin. Your heart is thrumming in your throat. You’re almost positive he can hear it. It’s rushing in your ears, nearly drowning out the sound of his voice. You focus back on the deep timbre, noticing how he has moved closer to you, trying to make himself small and less intimidating. A small smile tugs on your lips.

“I’ll guide, you just follow, yeah?” he gives you a small nod.

You’re too focused on his lips and you nod. A flash of white appears as he smiles, eager to please. What he does next takes you by surprise. A large hand slides up the left side of your face, cupping your jaw. He’s gentle, like handling fragile glass as he pulls you close to his face. A puff of air is pulled from your lungs. You try your best to stay calm and collected as he takes a long drag from the blunt, slowly closing the space between the two of you.

He presses his lips against yours, swiping his tongue over your bottom lip – it takes you by surprise. Oh. You gasp, sucking in a deep, quick breath. Your eyes flutter shut and you feel the burning hot smoke fly down your windpipe. It causes a coughing fit. You grab onto his shirt tightly, trying to get composure of yourself. He’s laughing – a melodic sound that rumbles deep in his chest. Your cheeks are burning with embarrassment and you look away quickly, tears filling your eyes again.

“Hey, hey,” he tries to soothe through fits of laughter.

You frown, tilting your chin up and away from his grip. Pride hurt, your lip trembles. This was a bad idea. You go to stand up, pushing up with your left foot. Simon grabs your arm gently, reconnecting your attention.

“Your first time isn’t goin’ to be perfect,” he muses. “Let’s try again.”

You’re still glaring at him, hesitant. He arranges himself on the couch, fitting his large body against the cushions to the best of his ability. Simon beckons you with a bend of his fingers – you oblige. Crossing your right foot under your left leg, you sit back down in front of him. Your throat is burning from the smoke. He’s grinning up at you, pure unadulterated joy plastered on his face. The blunt is positioned yet again between those pretty lips of his. You focus on them, trying to get your nervous system to calm down. He’s tracing small circles on the underside of your wrist, the calloused pad of his thumb soothing.

His sleepy eyes flutter as he leans in close to you again, mirroring his actions from just a moment earlier. You’re a little more prepared this time, opening your mouth slightly and slowly inhaling the lazy trickle of smoke between the two of you. Eyes fluttering shut, you let it trace out the cavity of your lungs, feeling it burn – but in a more delightful way this time – before slowly letting the smoke out with a sigh. You keep your eyes closed for several moments, enjoying the comfortable silence.

A subtle weight has been lifted from your shoulders and you feel your body relax. Letting your eyes flutter back open, you’re met with Simon’s intense stare. His eyes are dark, almost black – you can see your reflection in them. He’s watching intently, blunt forgotten. Feeling a surge of courage, you pluck it from between the plushness, placing them between your own and inhale lightly.

You’re getting the hang of the inhaling and exhaling motions, testing the waters on how long you hold the smoke in your lungs. Head foggy, you feel a smile creeping up on your face. Your eyes are heavy, a nice buzz floating through your bloodstream. A slow blink from Simon causes an unbridled fit of giggles to overcome you. You don’t know why you find it so funny.

“What’s so funny?” he questions, eyes narrowing as a smirk pulls the corner of his upper lip up – he looks so pretty.

You gasp for air, contractions making your sides hurt as you choke out,

“Y-You.”

“Me?” he asks incredulously. You have no doubt his eyebrows have shot up to his hairline.

Nodding, you rub your side to ease the cramping caused by your laughter. It’s settled now, a small smile still on your face. You feel good – best you have in weeks. There’s no overwhelming dread or anxiousness clouding your thoughts.

“T’was a good idea,” you sigh.

He hums an agreement, eyes carefully landing on you – gaze appreciative. You make eye contact, the buzz running through your body giving a false sense of confidence. Your eyelids are heavy, but not in a sleepy way, more of a relaxed state. Maintaining eye contact, you rest your chin on your right palm, petting your own cheek with your thumb. Absentmindedly, you suck your bottom lip between your teeth. You watch his composure change, eyes darkening into a blackness you could get yourself lost in.

“Don’t do that,” Simon huffs, breaking eye contact and looking away from you for a short moment.

You notice his fingers curl up into a tight fist, veins nearly popping. He adjusts his posture, lifting his hips subtly up towards the ceiling before settling back down with another huff. Your brows furrow in confusion, pulling up towards the center of your face.

“Do what?” you ponder aloud.

His sharp gaze falls back to your face, almost predatory. You watch his eyes trail back down to your lips, which are resting in a natural pout. A dark blossom of lust lights up your lower body, making your fingers twitch against your cheek.

“You know what,” he rasps.

His voice sends another flood of warmness through your body and you shiver. You feel a blush spreading high on your cheeks, mouth nearly salivating. Goosebumps travel at the near speed of light, covering your whole body in seconds. The way his voice has dropped a goddamn octave has you nearly dropping to your knees on the floor in front of him. Another deep rumble of his voice, bouncing around in his chest cavity before delivering so sweetly to you grabs your attention.

“You still with me?” Simon asks, eyes a little more open – concerned.

You feel yourself nod, swallowing. Your mouth is dry and you grimace. He’s closed the distance between the two of you, his fingers brushing your arm. You could stay like this forever – a foggy high of pleasure and temptation. Your fingers itch to place themselves over his. Simon meets your eyes again – but you can’t really tell what he’s thinking – such a mystery. You sigh, counting the delicate eyelashes that brush the tops of his cheeks. From how close you are, you can see that his cheeks are colored a light pink as well. You grin, relishing in the fact that he’s just as fucked as you are.

He's too much and not enough – your anticipation is leaping skyward by the second, but you tell yourself to be cautious. You don’t want to bite off more than you can chew. However, you cannot help but want tell him everything – let him be your confidant – your saving grace.

“I feel safer when you’re home,” you confess, eyes languidly rolling upwards to meet his. (Dammit, way to go).

Simon tilts his head and you see the mask contort against his skin, scrunching up against his crooked nose – a smile (a cocky one at that).

“Oh, really?” he humors you.

You nod, face burning like a wildfire. You’ve started picking at your nails again – self-soothing habit. His eyes slowly bounce around your face before he speaks again.

“You like when I’m home? Hm?”

You fight back a shiver, his voice smooth as molten honey. It does nothing but fuel the fire in your stomach. You let out a shaky sigh, nearly rolling your eyes in pleasure. Something in the air changes then, a thick settlement of tension making it hard for you to breathe. Simon’s grinning now, amused over your behavior. You can hear the subtle change in his voice – suggestive. It’s not like the thought of him in that way has never crossed your mind.

But then again, you never thought that you would have Simon in your house, let alone on your couch. You feel your eyes unfocus, lazily resting on Simon’s tattooed forearm. A soft tut falls from his lips, clipped and a bit accusatory. A shift of weight against your couch has you blinking to refocus, eyes rolling back up to his face. Time seems to shift, slowing down as your eyes meet his. His hands are resting simply in his lap – courteous. You watch out of the corner of your eyes how he shifts under your gaze, almost as if he’s nervous. His full attention is on you and you feel the scrutiny of his own.

“Didn’t answer my question,” he reminds.

It had been completely forgotten, lost in the swirling thoughts of your hazy brain. The joint has been burning against your fingers, smoke filling your apartment. Simon reaches out – lightning quick and snatches the small roll from your fingers, touch lingering. He waits, nearly as still as a statue – almost not even breathing.

“Y-Yes,” you finally breathe out, tension leaking from your shoulders as you confess.

He flicks the blunt free of it’s accumulated ash, and then nods curtly – no other commentary. You watch as he takes another long draw from the nearly depleted roll, flicking it on your worn coffee table – forgotten. Simon tilts his head back, heavy under the drug, and lets the smoke fall from his lips. His eyes are shielded from you and you can’t tell what he’s thinking. It makes you anxious, not knowing. The thing is, you didn’t know much about him at all. This shared moment between the two of you had been the most open you had seen him since he had moved in next door. Simon was a stranger to you.

The silence stretches, uncomfortably slow as you both remain within your own thoughts. You clear your throat, standing up and walking slowly over to the kitchen to grab two glasses of water and some fresh air. The clock reads 08:13, not even well into the evening. How long had he been over? The cool night air is tempting – you give in, walking over to the sink and taking a lungful of fresh air before filling the two glasses. You’re parched, bringing the cool glass to your lips and chugging your water in no time. It requires another refill before you carefully walk back over to him, holding out a glass.

His long fingers wrap around yours, tugging you closer to him. The water sloshes up and over the glass, spilling down your joined hands. A twinge of apprehension stirs in your gut. The fogginess of your thoughts sobers for a moment as you try your best to read his facial expressions.

“You’re too hard to read,” you say aloud, brows furrowing.

His eyes soften at your words, pulling the glass from your hand gently and draining it of its contents. He sighs, thirst quenched. He’s pulled the balaclava back down.

“Thank you,” to your actions and the commentary.

You frown, still looking down at him. He’s avoiding eye contact, but you notice. Your heart thumps wildly in your chest. There are so many mixed signals – it’s hard to decipher. His fingers are still lingering on your own, you take them and squeeze. That gets his attention.

“Simon.”

His head turns languidly to your voice, eyes sleepy. A soft hum vibrating through his broad chest. For some reason, the way he looks now, has another current of arousal surging through your veins.

“Would you be cross if I asked you a question?” he starts, words tumbling out of his mouth, unable to stop them.

You feel another twinge of apprehension, but let yourself answer with a slow nod. A grin pulls at his lips again, mischievous. He shifts his weight, sitting up on his knees on your couch. You’re near eye level with him, his broad shoulders block your view of your room down the hall. His cool fingers slide up your forearm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Your breath catches in your throat. He’s trying his best not to be intimidating, at least not on purpose. You appreciate the mindfulness. A small sound leaves his throat and leads straight down to your abdomen. His fingers make their way up to the side of your neck. For a moment, they rest there – swirling soothing patterns into your skin. You feel your eyelids flutter, trying to remain focused on him.

He's so close, you can feel his breath on your skin. Your eyes focus on his covered lips as he finally speaks,

“Would you like to fuck?” his voice is deep, nearly cracking with how much restraint he is using.

Your heated gaze meets his own, lids heavy with arousal. His breath catches in his throat, tension suspended in the air as he waits for your answer.

“God, yes.”

--

He moves quickly, eagerness flashing in his dark eyes as he slides his fingers up into your hair, cradling your head. His balaclava is haphazardly pulled up just over his lips. Simon’s fingers twitch involuntarily – restraining – as he pulls you close, lips brushing against your own. A soft sound falls from your lips as you feel your eyes close. There’s almost too much of him and you worry momentarily that you bit off more than you can chew. But, he’s gentle with you, brushing his lips over your own before pressing them together.

You melt into his grasp, hands sliding up his arms to rest on his broad shoulders. Everything in you wants to put your hands on his face, but you restrain yourself, not wanting to spook him. An act of courage, you swipe your tongue over his bottom lip. He pulls away suddenly, and for a moment you’re afraid you’ve ruined the moment.

“Fuck,” he hisses softly, shoulders relaxing under your touch.

He returns to you eagerly, mirroring your actions by swiping his tongue over your lip. You part your lips in a gasp, allowing him to explore your mouth. He’s nearly overwhelming, but the taste he leaves in your mouth is heavenly – a mix of chamomile tea and the blunt you two had shared earlier. The thought of him on his knees for you is almost dizzying. You squeeze his shoulder softly, sliding your hand up to the side of his neck. His fingers shoot out lightning quick, wrapping around your hand and squeezing tightly. It makes you wince. Everything freezes – you’re left panting into his mouth.

“Sorry,” you pant out.

He shakes his head, loosening his fingers before placing your own on his face – where he wants them. A pained laugh leaves your lips, embarrassed by your actions. Both of you touch-starved and wanting to respect boundaries. You realize you’re both similar in that way – wanting to keep control. You try to pull away and he stops you, a heavy hand on your arm.

“”m okay,” he murmurs.

“I should’ve asked-“ you start before he shushes you, pulling your face back to his with his thumb and forefinger.

He slams your lips together, teeth nearly clacking in the process. Simon’s hands slide down your sides, grabbing at the fat surrounding your hips. He’s moving again, sitting back down on his ass and pulling you into his lap. You stumble, reaching out and grabbing the back of the couch to steady yourself. He’s looking up at you now head resting on the back of your couch, eyes as dark as sin. The angle is inviting, but you want a little bit more, so – you take your thumb and forefinger, placing on his chin and tilting back dangerously. A flash of glitter pools in his eyes, a soft noise leaving his lips. You rest on your knees above him, avoiding his lap as you look down at him.

A surge of power takes over you, seeing him react so prettily to your touch. His arms rest by his sides, obedient. You notice how his neck is turned upwards, so you lean down, attaching your mouth to his skin and licking a stripe. He shudders, hips involuntarily bucking against your own.

“A-Again,” he huffs, eyes screwing closed.

You oblige, the sweet taste of his lingering soap on his skin. You’ve never had a vocal partner, but hearing the sounds he makes just for you makes your pussy flutter. He sounds so strewn out, and you haven’t even touched him yet. You lean back slowly, looking back up at him before settling your hips down against his own. Simon’s hand curls itself around your waist (he can’t help himself), squeezing as his hips buck up into your clothed core before settling back against the couch cushions.

Fuck.

“I’m going to touch your face again,” you warn, placing your hands gently on his cheeks.

You move very slowly, rolling his mask neatly up onto his nose. His eyes are glazed over, nearly unfocused as you continue.

“No more,” he states calmly, despite taking a deep shuttering breath.

His voice is full of arousal as he purrs,

“Y’ want me to use my mouth?”

Oh. Your brain short circuits, mouth falling open in a silent gasp.  He’s grinning again, and by how close you are this time, you notice the slight crookedness of his teeth – it makes him even more human. There a sliver of a scar that rests against his upper lip and are those? Freckles? Your eyes nearly roll in the back of your head as your stomach flutters again. Fingers dart out to trace them, it makes him jump before relaxing under your touch. His skin is flushed, pink blossoming all the way down his neck. The closeness of your two bodies has you burning up. You reach to your right, yanking your t-shirt up and over your head, letting it fall to the floor.

Simon chuckles softly, a tinge of nervousness around the edges. His mouth, god his mouth.

“Is that a yes?” he questions, leaving it open.

You grab his chin a bit roughly, and he sighs into your touch. His fingers tighten on your hip, squeezing a couple of times.

“Yes, Simon.” You coo against his lips, voice sultry.

He shudders, still grinning at the sound of his name.

--

Simon never in his life thought that he would let himself become this vulnerable, this open to someone. Let alone show his face. He’s relinquished a part of him that needs control – and it fucking terrifies him. He’s nervous as fuck, but the haze of arousal has him blinded. With you sitting so pretty in his lap – he wouldn’t dare move a muscle unless you give him the okay. He doesn’t want to fuck this up. Simon’s stomach clenches with arousal? Fear? He doesn’t even fucking know – ignorant to the sensation. He didn’t indulge often, only to ever stave off that ever growing feeling sometimes. It wasn’t intimate, it was practical.

He’s watching you through hooded eyes, the weed and your presence on top of him making his pants pull almost unbearably tight. Simon’s in uncharted territory, letting his guard down, trusting that you won’t take advantage of him (he already knows you wouldn’t) but that anxiety builds up within his chest – nearly burning. He wants to hand himself over, to fully relax into the pleasure and just be. He feels safe with you (he’d never fucking admit it).

“So pretty,” you coo against his lips.

It sends a delicious shiver down his spine. A soft, almost pained sound leaves his lips. Oh, he’s fucked. He’s so hard it fucking hurts. But he wills himself not to come, not yet. Simon needs you, just as desperately as you need him. It’s a standoff for whoever is going to make the first move – tension nearly asphyxiating. His neck hurts from staring up at you, he hasn’t moved since you placed him. He wouldn’t dare unless you told him. He’d listen to anything that you told him.

“Simon,” you say, breaking the silence yet again.

He feels his cock jump in his pants. The way his name rolls off of your lips – it’s delicious. He’s thinking too much – side effect of the weed. Simon’s eyes focus on yours, all doe-like.

“Yes?” he breathes, all composure gone.

“I want you to use your mouth,” you state.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. He’s fucking dizzy, ears ringing. A laugh escapes his lips, almost like he had a punch to the gut. He scrambles upwards, moving his hands away for a second (it feels like a lifetime) to maneuver your pliant body underneath his. Simon’s panting, placing his knee inbetween your thighs, caging his broad arms around you. He’s never seen a more beautiful sight. You’re looking up at him like he made the damn sky – something wicked curls in his stomach, a flush setting flight down his chest.

“Fuck,” he breathes, brushing a few stray hairs out of your flushed face.

Your pupils are blown, not an ounce of color within them. Your lips are plastered in almost a permanent grin, high still buzzing through your veins. He plants his thumb on your bottom lip, gently prying it open. Your tongue swipes at the pad of his thumb, begging for a taste. He doesn’t know why he does it – but he leans closer, allowing a trail of saliva to part from his lips. It lands on your tongue and you fucking swallow.

All while maintaining eye contact.

--

You stare up at Simon, eyes burning from not blinking. Not a moment missed. His eyes roll in the back of his head and he shudders.

“Jesus, fucking Christ,” he runs his finger over your lip and does it again.

You don’t miss a drop.

“You’re a fucking tease,” he huffs out a laugh.

You grin, tracing the fluttering pulse at his neck and pull him down to meet your lips. The fabric of the balaclava brushes against your skin, but you don’t mind. He has you caged in, you cannot move (you don’t even think about moving). Simon’s knee bumps against your clothed pussy and you moan softly against his lips.

You feel your brows scrunch upwards in pleasure as he does it again, this time pulling your hips down to meet his knee.

“There you go,” he encourages.

You feel your breath hitch, a pang of sharp arousal pooling near your core. Moans fall from your lips, filling the air of your apartment. Simon’s eyes are focused on where your clothed core meets his knee, grip tightening on the fat of your hips.

“S-Simon-“ you pant. “I-.”

“Say my name again,” he grunts, voice nearly a growl.

“Simon,” you gasp, eyes wet with tears as your orgasm bubbles up and over, pleasure flooding your limbs – all the way out to your fingertips.

You clench around nothing, soft sobs escaping your lips as your orgasm slowly fades. He doesn’t give you any time to recover, inching is large body down your sofa and hooking his legs over the armrest as he lays on his stomach. His fingers curl around the waistband of your shorts, pulling them down your legs. His fingers trace a line up your thighs, causing you to shiver.

“Gonna make you feel so good,” he says, leaning forward and burying his face between your folds.

It turns him on, seeing you turned on. He’s exceptional – and absolutely fucking messy. Simon eats you out like it’s his last meal on Earth. Your moans mix with giggles, the thought of him being your “last meal” being absolutely hilarious in your inebriated state.

Simon tilts his head, nose brushing up against your clit in a dangerous way. It bumps the bundle of nerves just right – choking a moan out of you. He does it again (on purpose this time the bastard) when he comes up for a breath of air. It’s not long before he dives back down, tongue swirling through your sopping folds. You’re almost certain you can feel him thrusting against the couch, chasing his own pleasure while burning your taste into his tongue.

A second orgasm pulls tight in your belly, sharp and quick as you come yet again, pleasure pooling on his tongue. He doesn’t waste a second, lapping up your release. You’re shuddering, aftershocks lingering the second time around. He’s still lazily curling his tongue around your clit. You take your hand, pushing at his head until he finally gets the hint. He pulls away, lips shining with your release. You moan at the sight, clenching around nothing once more. Simon places a swift kiss to your knee, clouded gaze falling to your own.

“That was so fucking hot,” his voice is hoarse and it sends a shiver down your spine.

“D-Did you?” you ask shyly, cheeks burning.

“Oh, all shy now, are we?” he teases, the top of his balaclava moving.

Bastard was wiggling his eyebrows. You fake a pout, leaning up on your elbows. He places a hand on your stomach, petting the skin there.

“You gonna let me take care of you? For being so good to me?” you coo, petting his hand on top of your stomach.

His grin falls, mouth falling open in shock. A soft groan falls from his lips, almost pained.

“You? You…want more?”

You do. You fucking want your body to memorize every inch of him. Every sound, every touch, every taste, every smell. You can only imagine how he would feel inside you. A whimper escapes your mouth at the thought. You feel yourself nod, pulse quick and thready in your ears. He’s getting back up on his knees in no time, pulling you into his lap and standing up rather quickly. It’s dizzying, the rush of blood going to your head. He spreads you over your coffee table, brushing your books and forgotten glasses to the carpeted floor. You wrap your legs around his waist, thighs burning with the stretch.

Fingers curling around his waistband, you tug, trying to get his cock free. When it is released from the confines of his boxers, it springs up against his belly – red and swollen with want. Oh, fuck. He’s fucking huge. You gulp – too much. Spitting into your palm, you reach in-between your two bodies, wrapping your small fingers around his length and tugging upwards.

A wanton moan punches from his lips. It’s loud, and you’re cursing yourself for getting an apartment with thin walls. You don’t shush him, allow him to be candid and open – something you’re sure he doesn’t get to do much often. He thrusts through your curled fingers, the head of his cock brushing over the tips. His precome eases the way as you continue your ministrations. Up, down, up down, squeeeeeze.

“Oh, fuck-,” he chokes on a moan.

“Sound so pretty, Simon,” you coo once more, voice sultrier than ever.

His hand grabs a handful of your ass, tugging you closer to his cock. You tease him by running the velvety head through your folds. You’re still slick from your previous orgasms.

“I-If you keep doing that I’m going to cum,” he gasps, teeth gritted in concentration.

He curses, yanking your hand from off of his length and letting out a groan. Simon shifts forwards, thick thighs spreading your own even more. You whine softly at the stretch, thighs screaming (worth it). The head of his cock brushes against your hole, catches on the lip before sliding inside. It punches the air out of you. You can’t believe how easily he slides in, wide girth filling up every inch of your cunt. You clench down on his length, eyes rolling in the back of your head. Hands reach out to grasp his own, that are circling your hips. He removes one, taking your left knee and pushing it up towards your body. If you didn’t think he could get any deeper, he does – the head of his cock brushing against that spongey spot deep inside.

You’re babbling, drunk on the pleasure his body gives you, praises falling from your lips. You don’t even recognize what you’re saying.

“Can’t-Can’t keep talkin’ like that honey.” Honey. Honey.

He sounds wrecked, fucking up into you as his hips stutter. A whine escapes your lips as he pulls your body down to meet his thrusts. You’re pliant to his touch – fucked out and not a care in the world. You’d let him do anything to you.

“Please,” you beg. “Please come for me Simon,” you sob out, finding his eyes finally.

“You fuckin-“ he chokes, hips slamming into your ass as he captures your lips in a kiss.

He bites down hard when he comes, splitting your lip open. The pain from it pushes you over the edge and you clench around his cock, milking every ounce of pleasure from him.

--

You come to later that evening, eyes blearily blinking open to find him in-between your legs again. He’s lapping lazily at your cunt, tongue dipping in and out of your hole, cleaning up his mess. You whine softly, pussy puffy and overstimulated. Simon smiles against your folds, the noises coming from his mouth are obscene. His voice is rough when he speaks, fucked out – you fucking melt.

“Had to give ‘ya one more.”

You pet the side of his head, thighs shaking with overstimulation as a laugh punches its way out of your throat. He’s moved you back to the couch, in your previous position.

“Taste too good.”

[bonesxbows]

I'll Be There For You (Botw Link x Reader)

My Masterlist

When you both make a trip to the desert, things go sideways when you have to wear short sleeves. Link tries to make it all okay though.

(WARNINGS) - descriptions of self harm

I know I usually do a lot of self harm related fics, but they really help me so I figured that they can maybe help someone else too. I am working on something else though that shouldn't be as sad as these usually are

Reblogs & Kudos are appreciated!!

-

Link had refused to venture onwards without you, claiming that it was too dangerous to just leave you in the cave you two were staying in for the night, but you knew where he was going, and why you would have to find a way for him to leave you behind. You had to.

“What if I just head to a nearby village? There's got to be one close by that I can just stay at until you get back,” you suggested. He shook his head.

“Closest village is a two-day trip, at least. And besides,” he stopped mid-sentence to check that everything was packed up from the night before. “It's not like I'd ever let anything happen to you. You're safer with me.”

You sighed in defeat. Bouncing suggestions off of him for the last hour was getting you nowhere and you knew it. You grabbed your backpack and followed him out of the cave, running excuses through your head in case your ‘worst-case scenario’ unfolded into reality. 

----------

The closer you got to the desert the more you could feel the temperature difference. The heat was unbearable during the day, and the air felt just like the air at the top of Lanayru mountain during the night. You two had made it to the stable that stood between the desert sands and the rest of the world, and LInk had decided to stay there for a few days to tackle some jobs, and also to figure out how you two were going to make it all the way to Gerudo Town without dying from heat exhaustion. It was your second day there when someone had rewarded Link with a couple of hydromelons for completing the task they had given him. He was thrilled. He had prepared a couple of meals for the two of you as soon as he had a free moment. You sat next to the cooking pot watching him, holding down the anxiety that bubbled inside of you. 

----------

“I'm fine Link, really.” you lied to him through your teeth again. He just looked at you with worry written all over his face. Walking through the dunes of sand was a lot harder than you had anticipated. The chilly meals had helped, but it still felt like the sun was trying to cook you from the inside out. Link had made due, pulling as much hair as he could into his ponytail to get it off of his neck and changing into the thinnest clothes he had while taking the majority of his armor off. You, on the other hand, had only pulled your hair into a high ponytail like his but kept your regular explorer clothes on. Long sleeves and all. Link had tried to get you to change, asking you multiple times if you were sure you were okay. You lied to him every time. Truth be told you felt less like a human and more like a piece of meat being roasted over an open flame. You thought you could handle it, but you were sorely mistaken. Sweat dripped from, well, from everywhere on you, and your vision was going blurry. No amount of water helped either. But when the hills of sand started to move like water and suddenly you were seeing three of Link you decided you could only take so much.

“Link...wait…” you stopped, almost falling over. You held your arms out to your sides to balance yourself. Link didn't wait for you to say anything else and grabbed your hands. He slowly guided you over to below a nearby rock overhang. Being in the shade instantly felt better, and once Link helped you sit down onto the cool rock your vision stopped playing tricks on you. Link moved closer to you, reaching for the clasps of your armor around your wrists. You jerked away from him when you felt his fingers brush against your skin. He looked at you in surprise, and you slowly returned the gaze.

“No…” was all you were able to say to him. You might as well have swallowed a handful of sand with the way your mouth felt.

“(Y/N) you need to take off something. You’ll overheat with all that gear on.” Link replied firmly. You looked at Link again, a mix of emotions, mostly worry, coated his eyes. Link just smiled softly, trying his best to convey that he wasn't going to judge you for anything as best as he could without words. You bit your lip as you looked away from him and focused on trying to take off your armor. Your shaky hands were of no use, however.

“Here, let me help.” Link said as he scooted closer once more and reached for your bracer. This time you didn't pull away from his touch. He glanced at you every few moments while he removed your armor but you never returned the gaze.

“There.” he breathed as he sat back on his feet. All the pieces of your armor now laid in a small pile next to the two of you, along with the sword and shield Link had dropped when he helped you over to the upturned rock.

“Now how about we trade out that long-sleeved shirt for one of my tee shirts?” Link offered with a smile. Not having all of that armor on you did help a lot with the heat, but it still felt like the inside of Death Mountain to you, and Link’s offer did sound nice. You looked at Link, who now held a clump of red fabric in his hands, chewing on your lip. You knew there was no arguing out of this one so you gently took the shirt from him. You looked between the shirt in your hands and up at Link, a hesitant look splayed across your face. Not wanting to cause you any more uncomfortableness than you were currently in, Link turned himself around, facing the sea of sand instead of looking at you while you changed shirts. When he saw your shirt being thrown into the pile with your armor from the corner of his eye he knew it was okay to turn back around. Having the air touch your arms was both a blessing and a curse. Not having the fabric sticking to the entire length of your arm felt nice, the hot air wasn’t pleasant, but it was better than a non-breathable second layer of skin. But it felt foreign to you. You hadn’t worn anything but a long-sleeved shirt since before you started traveling with Link. 

When Link turned back around, however, he was in for a surprise. You looked down at your hands, trying to look anywhere but at the blonde in front of you, while he stared at you, his face holding a puzzled expression. White bandages wrapped down your arm, from your elbow down to your wrist. Link tried to think of a logical answer for what he was seeing but ultimately couldn't find one. He couldn't remember ever seeing the bandages before and didn't remember you ever getting hurt in a fight there. He would know if you had, for he always patched up any wounds you got while exploring, but he didn't recall ever fixing up your wrists. He tried to ask you what the bandages were from, but the words were caught in his throat. So instead he opted for a more practical solution for both of your problems. Silently he gathered the things that you had discarded off of your person and packed them into his bag. He holstered his sword and shield and held out his hand to where you still sat. you looked up at him, and he smiled. You swore you could see a hint of sadness in his eyes, but regardless you grabbed his hand. He pulled you up off of the rock bed and held on to your hand. He gave it a reassuring squeeze before you two walked off to the nearby Bazaar. This time with less risk of heat exhaustion.

----------

When you two made it to the Kara Kara Bazaar Link went into the hotel to pay for a bed for the night while he left you outside to peruse through the shops. You were staring at the produce laid out by the local foods shop when Link returned to you.

“Link. I've never seen these types of fruits anywhere before. Think they only grow in the desert?” you asked him once he was near you. He just nodded, smiling sincerely. He never liked to speak when a lot of people were around. He reached into one of his pockets for a moment, and pulled out a handful of rupees, handing them to you.

“Don’t you think they’re better things to spend our money on?” you questioned him, but he shook his head and silently insisted that you take the rupees from him. You hesitantly took them from his hands. He smiled once more before turning and walking off towards another merchant, most likely to sell the things you two didn’t need. You turned back towards the produce merchant in front of you.

“Um...I'll take some of your palm fruits.” You said to the Gerudo woman. Sure, you always had to be Link’s voice, but that didn’t mean that you weren’t nervous talking to new people for the first time.

“How many would you like?” She asked.

“Just two please,” you responded.

“That’ll be 32 rupees.” you counted out and handed her the exact amount of rupees, gently grabbing the fruit from the stand.

“Sarqso,” she said to you as you stored the fruit away for later. You just smiled sweetly and nodded a little, hoping Link could translate for you later when you two were alone. When you turned around you quickly found Link across the small oasis, selling what looked like to be monster parts to Beedle. You smiled to yourself and headed over to the pool of water. It was completely clear and had a few fish swimming around freely in it. Your eyes followed one fish who was swimming around in small circles when Link came over to stand by you.

“Traded monster parts for some arrows I hope?” you asked him, trying to make small talk. He just nodded, following your eyes to the fish that had your attention. Link smiled to himself and reached slowly to grab your hand. The action surprised you, but you didn't pull away as he began pulling you gently away from the pond.

“Link? Where are we going?” you asked, although you didn't get an answer. He lead you all the way back to the hotel, around the side of the building. He only let go of your hand to climb a ladder up to the roof, hoping you would follow him. Which you did. You were a little confused, but he was your boyfriend, so you trusted him and followed him up the ladder rungs without hesitation. Once at the top he waited for you to pull yourself up onto the rock. The view wasn’t far, but it sure was beautiful. Gerudo Town was in the distance, surrounded by a sea of sand that seemed to roll like waves when the wind blew. You were alone up here, and Link let you over to the middle of the rock, where you both sat down. You watched Link for a while as he stared out at the sand. His eyebrows were knitted and he occasionally bit at his lip.

“Link…?” You spoke up. He seemed to snap out of a trance as he looked at you. He smiled sheepishly. “I...um…” you stopped mid-sentence, losing the words in your throat. You looked out at the sands, not sure what to say. Link did the same, but the silence didn’t last long.

“Did a monster attack you? Was I not there to protect you?” Link asked. You turned to face him and was met with a heartbroken expression.

“What? No! What would make you think that anything like that happened?” You responded. You knew what he was trying to ask about, and deep down you really didn’t want to tell him the truth. But the look on his face was killing you on the inside. “Link, I promise that you have nothing to do with this. None of it is your fault,” you explained to him, trying to hop around the truth for just a little longer. He stared at you.

“Then what happened?” he asked, his voice not much above a whisper. You glanced to the side, wincing slightly at his question. You tried to contain yourself, knowing that the more you ignored answering the more worried Link was going to get, and the more he’d keep asking. But you had never planned to tell anybody and didn't even know how to explain it to someone as good-hearted as Link. you looked back over at him, chewing on your lip nervously.

“I...i…um…” you tried to find your words, but your mind was tied into a knot, your thoughts being scrambled together.

“(Y/N) I only want to help, you know that. I would never force you to do anything, but I can't help if you won't talk to me.” Link spoke clearly and calmly, hiding his worriedness better than you could hide your nervousness. You took a deep breath and decided that there was only one way this conversation was going to end.

“They’re...um...they’re from...me.” you quietly told Link. once you finished your sentence you quickly looked in the opposite direction, your heart pounding through your chest. It was silent for a moment, and you thought that maybe Link hadn’t heard you, but then he broke the silence.

“Can...can I see them?” he asked softly. You turned to look at him, tears brewing up in your eyes. Link sat still patiently, never taking his eyes off of yours until you answered. At first, you wanted to say no, telling him already hurt enough, but when you looked back at those big bright blue puppy-dog eyes, you felt safe. Just being around Link made you feel that warm fuzzy feeling on the inside, made you feel like you were never alone and that no matter what, even during moments like this one, Link would always care for you and love you and make sure you were safe. 

So after a long moment of thinking, you slowly nodded, tearing your gaze from his and focusing on your wrists. Your hands were shaking, making the removal of the bandages a little difficult, but Link never made a move to help you, knowing that this was something you needed to do yourself. Plus he didn't want to make you any more uncomfortable than you already were. Link watched as your skin was exposed piece by piece, and he tried his hardest not to wince or make any noise when the marked skin was exposed as well. Most scars were little more than pale pink lines that littered your forearms, but some, mostly the ones closer to your wrists, were an angry red. Some were small, barely bigger than the size of a fingernail, but others were long and deep. Once the bandages were completely off, the whole length of both of your arms exposed, you just sat there silently staring off into the sandy distance. Part of you immediately regretted your decision of agreeing to this and wanted to hide your arms, but another part of you felt relieved that now there wasn't some deep dark secret you had to try so hard to keep hidden. You sneaked a glance at Link, only to see that he had looked away as well.

“Link…?” you called out quietly to him, folding your arms into your lap. He still didn't look at you, but instead fiddled with a piece of his shirt.

“When...when was the last?” he asked.

“...a few days ago,” you mumbled softly.

“A few days ago we were at the stable. I was with you there.” Link recalled.

“Mhm.” was the only response you could think of.

“...why didn’t you come to me then? I could’ve helped you sooner…” Link looked at you for a moment, and you caught a glimpse of him holding back tears before he looked away again. Guilt was eating away at you on the inside, but somewhere in your mind, you knew this was the right thing to do.

“I...i couldn’t Link. you’re already so busy, and you’re trying to save the entire kingdom of Hyrule here. I didn't want you to have to worry about me any more than usual.” you told him. It was the truth, well, at least a part of it. Link turned to face you, not looking away this time. He looked so distraught, and tears began to slowly fall down his face. Your own tears almost began to fall once you saw how upset he looked.

“Do you seriously think that I wouldn't put you first?” he asked you, although you were a little confused at the question.

“...isn't the princess and the kingdom more important than just one little person like me?” you hadn’t meant to sound so harsh, but it was the truth to you. You were just one person, Hyrule contained thousands of people and multiple villages. 

“Saving Zelda, defeating the calamity, they’re important tasks, yes.” Link paused. You looked away, assuming he was agreeing with your previous statement. “But…” he continued as he grabbed your hands, lacing your fingers together, being careful not to touch any fresh scars. You stared at his hands as he moved yours. “None of it means anything to me if you’re not there with me the whole way,” he said, a small smile peeking through his lips. You finally broke at his words. Tears began to pour from your eyes like a river and you fell forward into Link’s chest, holding onto his shirt. He wrapped his arms around you, cradling you in his lap. You two sat there in silence while you cried, Link softly rubbing circles into your back. Once your sobs turned into small sniffles he gently lifted your chin up so you two were face to face. You found it hard to look at him after everything that had just happened, but you tried your best to not look away.

“Promise me you won’t do it again. And if you do feel like doing it, come to me first. Okay?” he softly asked. You nodded.

“Promise,” you whispered, your throat now hurt a little from sobbing so much. You two sweetly smiled at each other before you laid your head back down into his chest and he laid his head on top of yours, holding you gently, but firmly, in a secure hug while the sun began to set behind you two. As you two sat there, Link vowed to himself that he would always protect you, even if he had to protect you from yourself.

[1-800-cr33py]

Evan and Habit hcs for a reader with Generalized Anxiety Disorder? Conflict, sudden or loud noises, the feeling of being watched, large crowds, or a bunch of energy in one room, all of that is ✨bad✨

I hope you’re having an awesome night :] (side question do you write for Jeff from EMH?)

I would love to start writing for Jeff! Sadly, no one has requested him yet! Also I love this request because I was diagnosed with GAD a few years ago!

Onto the headcanons! Tw for mentions of mental illness,breakdowns, the nasty side of mental illness, Habit

Evan

Evan knows how loud he and his friends can be, so when you explain to him that sudden, loud noises and large groups aren’t something for you, he doesn’t take it to heart when you don’t hang around the group much; but he appreciates the days you do.

He understands the feelings of being watched, he’s experienced it since he was young, so Evan will happily check the house and any dark spaces for you; he also does it for himself, weird shit has been happening and he just wants everything to be safe for you.

Evan’s had a meltdown many times in his years, he knows to leave you alone when you need him to just be there when he needs to. He’ll talk to you through the door if you need him, or he’ll just sit in the farthest corner of the room silently if you need him. It’s things like that, that can reassure someone.

He doesn’t want you to feel embarrassed or less than when you can’t handle public situations, whether it be because you’re sensitive to high energy or people just make your mind feel like static, he’ll understand! Evan will gladly take movie dates in his house over some overcrowded and loud movie theater anyday!

Evan will order take out, or whatever you both are in the mood for, dust off some old gaming console or board game and call it a date.

1000/10, manifesting a man like this in my life

HABIT

Habit is a slimy fuck, but he’ll understand. I feel like you not leaving the house often is a blessing due to his line of ‘work’. It keeps you ignorant and safe.

Habit can be loud, so if you need a break, please by all means take one.

I feel like Habit prefers you in the house, for one he can keep track of you, two, its safer. You don’t have to get in between him and his objectives! Win-win in his opinion.

Both Evan and Habit like to spoil you rotten, weighted blankets, teas, candles, anything that they think will soothe your nerves.

Habit purrs, and he likes to pull you to his chest when he does, to him it’s his way of soothing you and calming your nerves. It’s a demon- Eldridge entity thing.

He means well, but he can be insensitive, teasing you, poking fun.

Habit likes your at home dates. He doesn’t like mortals. (Worth you being one of the few exceptions), so having you curl into his side and cackle at some stupid cheerleader running from Jason is his go to.

Habit will check the house if you feel like you’re being watch, begrudgingly. He’ll be over the top, knife in hand, borderline shouting at ‘What ever the FUCK is in his house, needs to get the fuck out” It’s endearing, in a bloodthirsty kind of way.

7/10, could be better but hes….him

[chimcess]

Waterlog || pjm (4) (teaser)

Pairing: Jimin x Reader Other tags: Olympic Swimmer!Jimin, Ex Olympic Swimmer! Reader, Swim Coach!Reader Genre: Strangers to Friends to Lovers!AU, Coach!AU, Swimming!AU, HEAVY Angst, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, fluff, eventual smut, I'm so soft for these two it's crazy. Word Count: TBD Synopsis: After a car accident ends her athletic career, Y/N has slowly started rebuilding her life again as a high school swim coach. That’s until she gets a request from an old friend and finds herself back in the spotlight as the new coach of Olympic swimmer, Park Jimin. Warnings: ANGST, crying, mental health issues, talking about mental health, I'm so soft for them it's actually wild, best boyfriend Jimin, did I say angst????, past drug use, past alcohol addiction, past trauma talk, crying, anxiety, hand holding, touching as a love language, Jimin can't keep his hands to himself, pining, sexual tension, banter; to be continued.... Release date: 05/18/2024

prev || masterlist || next || playlist

“I forgive you. Now, why do you want to pack your life up for good?”

That made me laugh. It was a sad, pitiful sound. One that did not hold my usual spunk. One I don’t think Jimin had ever heard before. It was impossible to feel sad when he was around.

“I forgot how quiet my house is,” I admitted softly. “I love my friends, but I think coming back just reminded me of how easily I was able to fall back into the routine of it all. Jin and Andy are parents, Tilly has a new boyfriend, and Hoseok and Minho are always so busy with their own lives that I don’t see any of them as often as I would like to.”

Turning on my side, I blinked back a few tears.

“It might sound stupid, but I really do love Saline. I like how busy I am and all of my friends. I bought this place with the hopes of kids and a dog one day, but I don’t think that’ll ever happen, and now it’s just rooms collecting dust. I just-” I let a tear fall, my emotions starting to bubble over. “I don’t like how lonely it feels out here.”

“Doesn’t sound like you like it there. Have you always felt like this?” He asked.

I shook my head, the tears free falling in between sniffles and shaky breaths.

“Not always. Ever since Namjoon died things have been weird. There was a point when I felt suffocated because no one would leave me alone, and then one day everything resumed and I just got left behind. It was like I woke up and two years just passed me by.”

Jimin comforted me while I cried, telling me how much he hated to hear me so upset, while I worked on calming down. There had been a time in my life when I was not so emotional, but therapy had opened up a whole new side of myself I didn't know existed. Rubbing my face, I sniffled and sank deeper into my mattress. For now the waterworks had stopped.

“You were recovering,” He soothed. “Your body needed time to heal, and you were traumatized. I don’t think anyone can blame you for zoning out for a bit.”

I hummed, “I know. Doesn’t make it easier to swallow.”

“I know how you feel. When I pulled out of the Olympics last time there was a part of me that felt like a huge failure, but my dad was there to help get my head back on straight. He doesn’t seem like it, but he’s a really great shoulder to cry on.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” My voice was like sandpaper. “James is the sweetest person I’ve ever met.”

I felt heavy. Worn. Used. My eyes begged for me to shut them, but we were just getting back into safer waters and I didn’t want to burst the bubble. I yawned, covering my mouth and hoping Jimin could not hear the sound. He had gone quiet.

“Can I ask you something?” Jimin’s voice broke through the comfortable silence that had formed around us. “You don’t have to say anything.”

“Shoot,” I forced myself to smile.

“What happened to Namjoon?”

Taglist: @ownthesunshine @screamertannie @lovelytaes-blog @pernesianparapio @tae-with-some-suga @sumzysworld @chimmisbae

[hollyhomburg]

there’s no way we could get a little early spoiler is there👉👈🥺

yes you can! although this part is like- in high danger of being edited out <3 like 8/10 i edit it 2/10 i keep it! it's not that its not well written or workable but there are other sections during this scene that do very similar things to this one. It's not really needed.

Chapter 59 snippet?

“Do you want to like- take a shower or something? Wash the sad off?” you shake your head stubbornly, pressing your cheek further into Namjoon’s shoulder.

“I don’t know if that would help,”

Jungkook pouts, trying not to be hurt that his suggestion is shut down. Your eyelashes flutter. Confessing.

“I don’t- I don’t like feel clean- like ever.” Your pack wait for you to explain it further, to go into it. And it takes you a breath. You really don’t like talking about it- the grubbiness that’s always lurking just below your skin. That can’t be scrubbed or carved or burned or starved out.

"I can shave and scrub and wash my body 100 times and it never takes away what he did from me." your breath hitches, and you look down at the bandaids, dotting your arms like a constellation. but you know what they hide. "Sometimes- it’s so frustrating not having evidence. Not having a wound that I can nurse and heal and It just- feels better.”

You press your hands flat to your stomach, and you take their silence as something else, some sign of disgust or otherwise. panic bubbles up and you make excuses because that's all you can do. “It’s fucked up, I know it’s fucked up. You don’t have to say it. Fuck I shouldn’t have said anything- I’m sorry-”

Jimin pulls you snug against him, your hip against his hip, and you realize Jin’s struggling to keep himself from shaking. Your thoughts and words ramble over each other when you’re like this. Anxieties unbound like a wild dog

“don’t apologize. I-“ Jungkook ducks away, hands tight on the blanket. A confession for a confession seems right. Even if the others will be mad. The words come in a rush once jungkook’s made the decision to spill them.

“Sometimes, when it feels like I haven’t had a seizure and my body needs to have one, I go to McDonald’s after work and pig out on fries so I can trigger one. Because that feels safer, having control over when I’m gonna get hurt feels safer.”

Namjoon goes deathly still. And Jungkook goes cagey, shoulders pinned to his ears. the whole pack glance from him to Namjoon. you wonder if this is what they feel like- watching you and Hobi.

“Jungkook-“ Namjoon’s tone is that of a scolding alpha, but your scent eases. you pull yourself over to jungkook, getting your hand on his, holding it tight.

“no- I get it, I get it so much. i know exactly what you mean”

Control, and a lack of it. It’s so scary how it can make you act. Control is sometimes more necessary than food or happiness or love.

(ah, i'm liking this alot better, maybe 4/10 now?)

[calliemity]

Orin and His Nitrous: A Mini-Analysis

Written by Calliope Avery

Hii :] As a precursor to my off-Broadway Orin analysis (which is very close to entering the editing phase), I wanna talk about Orin Scrivello's nitrous oxide use! Specifically, I wanna go through the different elements of it and discuss which parts are accurate, which parts are exaggerations, and which parts are just... not true. Hope you find it interesting!

Let's quickly define what nitrous oxide is. Nitrous oxide, also known as laughing gas, dinitrogen monoxide, and whippets (recreationally), is a type of colorless gas that has a slightly sweet smell. It's used to reduce anxiety, provide a mild sedation effect, and dull some of the pain during medical procedures, commonly used by dentists. It takes effect very quickly and fades after about 5-10 minutes, and it's incredibly safe! When on nitrous, you'll feel calmer and more euphoric, and you might also feel very heavy, like you're sinking into your chair. Nitrous oxide, when given to a patient, is always mixed and balanced out with oxygen, and the nitrous will be slowly increased until the patient gets a desired level of relaxation. A minimum of 30% oxygen will be used along with nitrous, but not many people will need it at its highest available dosage. As a drug, it's classified as an inhalant and depressant. While it is a very safe substance for the most part, there are risks when using it recreationally, and long-term abuse has side effects that include a vitamin B12 deficiency and hand tremors. I'll cap my infodump here, but if you'd like to read more, here's the Cleveland Clinic page on nitrous oxide, and here's a more extensive report by Decisions in Dentistry!

Disclaimer: I will be discussing recreational nitrous oxide use, both in ways that people use it, why people use it, the high it provides, and side effects/risks involved. This is all for educational purposes, I'm not suggesting or encouraging anyone to use nitrous oxide recreationally. Be safe and responsible!

Method of Use/How Orin Uses It

In the stage musical version, Orin is usually given an inhaler prop as his main source of whippeting, which he inhales through his mouth. In the 1986 movie, it looks as if Orin has a small canister of the gas (called a "charger", they're used to refill whipped cream cans), which he shoots directly into his nose. In terms of accuracy, both would be considered the least realistic aspect of his usage. The former, the nitrous oxide inhaler, is not something that actually exists, at least in my research. You can't really put a charger into an asthma inhaler and expect that to work. Hypothetically, it would probably be safer than the method he uses in the movie. Nitrous oxide, when stored in chargers, is extremely pressurized and extremely cold, it's usually down to -40°F/°C. So not only is that gas shooting out like a bullet, it's also cold as hell! Movie Orin is either getting frostbite or a nosebleed, or both.

Once we get to his "special gas mask", we find some more inaccuracies. First of all, getting the obvious out of the way: nitrous masks don't look like that. In the musical it's often depicted similarly to a spacesuit, with a fullhead transparent helmet, while in the movie it only covers his mouth and nose. The latter is more accurate, but y'know. In real life nothing is being strapped around your torso. Another inaccuracy is the fact that the special gas mask only supplies nitrous, and no oxygen. As established in my description of the gas, when given to a patient it's always mixed with oxygen, with 30% oxygen being included at the very least. Obviously if his mask had been supplying oxygen then the plot (seemingly) wouldn't work, so I'm not trying to Cinema Sins LSOH right now. I just think it's interesting (and also insane) that this guy was probably breathing in 100% laughing gas. As someone who's very sensitive to its effects, I would instantly die!

Laughing Gas Effects/Orin's Reactions and Why He Uses It

This part is very neat to me, since I wouldn't describe his reactions to nitrous as wrong, but it's definitely heightened. As we see in both the stage show and movie versions, as soon as Orin inhales his giggle gas, he bursts out into hearty, borderline maniacal laughter. However, as seen in all instances that aren't the special gas mask, the laughter quickly wears off and he returns to his normal self. This is very much a heightened and exaggerated version of what laughing gas really does. While it won't affect you instantly, you'll feel its kick in as little as a minute. And while you won't burst into uncontrollable laughter, you'll feel your sense of pleasure and euphoria increase. And, if not given a constant stream of nitrous, the effects will wear off relatively quickly. Orin's reactions play out much more quickly and more exaggerated than it does in real life, but it definitely mirrors it!

Now, why does Orin use nitrous? To answer this, I'll steer us back to a main effect that laughing gas has in its safe doses: elevated euphoria. Nitrous oxide just genuinely feels good when you're on it. Furthermore, laughing gas gives a particularly unique type of high, one that's partially caused by a mild restriction of oxygen to the brain. The result is a floaty, hazy high that enhances pleasure. Outside of him using it for the punchline of "dentist using his own supply", he's definitely using it because it feels nice.

There is another actually confirmed reason why he's using it, one that he blatantly says out loud. I'm gonna get a little educationally NSFW for a moment, so skip this paragraph if that would make you uncomfortable. Among those who use whippets recreationally, a common use is to enhance sexual pleasure. Because of its euphoria-enhancing effects, it can act like a mild aphrodisiac, making you more aroused if that's something you were already feeling. Furthermore, taking a hit of nitrous before you orgasm will heighten the sensation of it. And, as Orin blatantly tells Seymour (and the audience) in both versions: "I find that a little giggle gas before we begin increases my pleasure enormously!" So we can easily assume his whippet usage is mostly for the enhancement of the sexual pleasure he gets from inflicting dental torture. This would mean that this is actually the most accurate aspect of Orin's nitrous use, since enhanced sexual pleasure is an effect it can have, and it's often used recreationally for that exact purpose. I have mixed feelings about this.

Side Effects and Fatality/Could Orin Really Die From It?

When used in a controlled setting and provided by a medical professional, most of the risks that nitrous oxide has aren't something to be worried about. However, recreational use (espesically long-term) can have some serious risks and side effects. One of the main side effects of long-term recreational nitrous abuse is a vitamin B12 deficiency, as it causes your body to have trouble absorbing it. While this deficiency develops its symptoms slowly (and sometimes don't present at all) it does cause numerous issues, both physiological, neurological, and psychological. Anemia, fatigue, nausea and low appetite, numbness/tingling and shaking in your hands, difficulties with motor skills and talking, depression and irritability, and memory issues are some main symptoms that can be experienced. Nitrous abuse isn't the only way this deficiency can happen, it's more commonly experienced when you aren't eating enough food with the vitamin or if you have a condition that makes it more difficult for your body to absorb it. Aside from the vitamin B12 issues, nitrous oxide also restricts oxygen flow to the brain, and repeated instances of this can cause cerebral hypoxia (severe restriction of oxygen to the brain.) Cerebral hypoxia can cause cognitive issues, such as issues with memory and decision making, confusion, low attention span, and difficulties with motor skills. In it's most severe cases, cerebral hypoxia can cause seizures, a coma, and death.

Inappropriate tone-shift aside, let's discuss how all this relates to Orin! Obviously we see his repeated laughing gas abuse, which we can only assume has been happening for years, so we know he's vulnerable to these side effects. Despite this, he doesn't seem to exhibit... any of these, to be honest. I can't say anything about the majority of the physical symptoms; I have no idea what his red blood cell count is, which is truly a tragedy. But he doesn't seem fatigued, he doesn't exhibit problems with speaking or moving, his memory seems fine. The only thing I can unsurely say matches up is his irritability/aggression, which in the show is only demonstrated with his abuse toward Audrey. A second example is given in the movie with how he acts toward Arthur Denton. However, I am... extremely hesitant to attribute this behavior of his to a symptom of drug abuse. I don't really like the idea of Orin's harmful and abusive treatment of people is entirely because of a drug. The author intent is clearly for Orin to be a cruel, abusive person through and through, and I think it's obvious that Orin would be like this even if he had never touched any substance. Furthermore, there's a clear pattern regarding his aggression; it's always directed toward an intimate partner of some kind. He's dating Audrey, and the Denton scene is very obviously coded as a sexual encounter, not unlike a hookup. Compare this to how he treats other people: in the show, he has interactions with the chorus girls and Seymour, and in both instances he actually treats them... fine? He's definitely an intense and suffocating person, but he isn't verbally insulting to either the girls or to Seymour, and his instances of physical threats are either absent in the case of the girls (they actually instigate the violence, to which Orin surrenders and doesn't fight back) or not motivated by anger in the case of Seymour. In the movie he does exhibit some anger-motivated aggression toward Seymour, but within the context we can see he's worked up from his anger toward Denton, and as the interaction with Seymour continues, he actually calms down. I've gotten a little off-course here, but my point is that nitrous oxide and a vitamin B12 deficiency doesn't make someone super aggressive toward only their intimate partners. At most, it's enhancing an already existing trait he has.

So... I've concluded that Orin doesn't really exhibit any side effects. They aren't always very obvious in real life and in some people the deficiency has no symptoms, so it's always possible he just got lucky. It's also possible that his diet is rich in foods that are good sources of vitamin B12, which counteracts the side effect enough to keep him unaffected. So his lack of symptoms isn't something that wouldn't make sense, and even if it was I don't think there would be an issue. However, one avenue remains unexplored... is Orin's nitrous-induced death accurate? The short answer... is yes.

Getting the obvious out of the way, it's clear he ends up dying from good ol' asphyxiation. The implication is that his special gas mask only supplies nitrous oxide and no oxygen, and the mask restricts his nose and mouth one way or another. He definitely lasts longer than he would in real life, but in this case his cause of death is the mask itself and not the gas. This would be the case in real life, the external asphyxiation will cause death before the nitrous can. However, if someone is being supplied a massively uneven ratio of nitrous to oxygen, something like a 90%/10% split for example, the gas itself would be fatal. Remember how repeated nitrous abuse can risk someone getting cerebral hypoxia? Yeah, that can cause death. If Orin's gas mask was also supplying some oxygen, it's more than possible that he would at least pass out from cerebral hypoxia, especially if he was left unaided like we see in the scene. When considered like this, and considering how he doesn't immediately start suffocating and dying when in the mask, it's actually more than possible to read the scene in this way; he technically is getting some oxygen, but he ends up going unconscious because the gas is restricting oxygen to his brain. Which would also mean it's more than possible that he didn't actually die until Seymour dismembered him, which is... very brutal. RIP bozo.

Conclusion

So considering I spend a chunk of this post detailing how laughing gas could possibly kill people, I would just like to clarify that nitrous oxide, when being supplied by a trained professional in a controlled environment, is 100% safe and incredibly effective. So when you're getting it at your dentist appointment or any other medical appointment, you're at risk for basically nothing I just described. You're being given a safe mix of oxygen and nitrous, at the dentist the mask only goes on your nose so your mouth is uncovered, and if you have any kind of bad reaction, its effects can be very quickly reversed. The risks of cerebral hypoxia and vitamin B12 deficiency are only for people who are using it recreationally, and especially for people who abuse it long-term. I just want to make it clear that nitrous oxide is a safe and effective sedative and it really does help with anxiety. I've had to have a lot of dental work done over the years, so I've been on the gas at least a dozen times, and I'm totally fine! So like, please don't be scared of it! I would feel horrible if that's the message someone got for this.

The last thing I'll leave you with is this: I wrote this entire thing mostly for fun. Little Shop of Horrors is set in a very heightened reality setting, so the technical realisms of nitrous oxide symptoms and abuse don't really matter. Even if absolutely nothing about the depiction was accurate, I still think the story and Orin's character would work fine. His heightened reactions act as shorthand to the audience on what he's inhaling, even if they only know nitrous oxide by the name "laughing gas", and it also acts as some nice foreshadowing to his death. Furthermore, his stupid dumb space helmet mask is also like, extremely funny. So even the aspects that are either exaggerated or flat-out inaccurate serve valid purposes. Honestly, I'm just pleasantly surprised that there's parts that are weirdly accurate to the drug and how it's used. Anyway, I hope you found the information interesting in some way, and thank you very much for reading!

Oh, and since you read the entire thing, I have little treat for you: Alan Menken telling the story of his parents' reaction to Orin's death (his father was a dentist and an advocate for nitrous oxide safety. Oops!)

Original Video

Sources:

Cleveland Clinic (Nitrous Oxide) - Cleveland Clinic (Vitamin B12 Deficiency) - Cleveland Clinic (Cerebral Hypoxia) - Decisions in Dentistry - Oxford Treatment Center - National Library of Medicine - Them.us (Additional information about what it's like to be on nitrous oxide is sourced from my own personal experiences.)

[sinthedrinker]

Zhongli x F!Reader

Zhongli awoke in the middle of the night, the lack of weight and warmth beside him in bed having roused him. The moon was high, it's light shining through our bedroom window and softly illuminating my silhouette as I paced around the room. I don't know why the night scares me, nothing bad had ever happened to me at night that didn't also happen during the day, but I could not stay asleep or stay comfortable. Sleep aids made me dizzy and sedated, but as long as I could still move my limbs, I would not sleep. Just pace, or scratch and peel at my skin, or talk to myself. Anything to pass the time until the sun rose and I could finally rest. Zhongli was used to this by now and he rose from the bed, wrapping his arms around me and stilling my anxious movement. 

"My poor darling. How long have you been up?" He asked softly. I placed my hands over his, interlocking our fingers. 

"I can't remember." 

"Will you come back to bed with me?" He asked, very gently guiding me back to our bed. My eyes and limbs felt heavy, my head was swimming, but still I could not relax enough to close my eyes and sleep. My anxiety only seemed to worsen, my stomach swirling restlessly and making me fear I would be sick, my heart beating so fast, my body flooding with adrenaline, ready to run from a nameless threat. Zhongli wrapped himself around me, caging me in his large, strong body. He always seemed to radiate warmth and stability, like laying on a boulder that's been kissed by the sun. 

"You are safe. Nothing fearful or harmful or painful can reach you, everything is right in the world, and you are safe in my arms." He said sternly. I nodded and snuggled up closer to him. 

"I'm sorry I'm like this. I know it must be exhausting for you." I said. The feeling that I am burdensome, annoying and useless wells up inside of me nearly every night and I worry that it will slowly build until it erodes our relationship. Zhongli cupped my cheek, tilting my head to make me meet his eyes. Amber, nearly shining in the moonlight, he always looked at me so sternly and seriously. 

"You are never exhausting. You are my wife, my darling. I want to care for you, and I love you when you are well, and unwell." He said. He kissed me gently, pulling me to his body even closer. It was impossible not to feel safer in his arms, but still I didn’t think I could fall asleep, and he knew he would be unable to sleep as long as I was so restless. 

“Would you like to look at the moon with me?” he asked. I nodded cheerfully and let him help me back out of bed, by this time the servants had all gone to sleep and I didn’t feel nervous about being in just my nightie as Zhongli led me through our dark estate. He hadn't even bothered to put clothes on at all. He led me to our living room where the moon shone through the wide windows and where the glowing lights of Liyue could be seen below. Our home was high enough that no one could see into the windows, but the city with all of its lanterns and street lights sprawled out below us was beautiful at night, especially with the moon glowing above and reflecting in the sea beyond the city. 

While I admired the city Zhongli wrapped his arms around me from behind, resting his head on my shoulder. 

"Do you feel safer?" He asked quietly. 

"I do. It makes me feel really soothed to see all of Liyue like this, though I'm not sure why." 

"Because this is my city, and now it is yours. There will always be a home for you in Liyue, a place where you can feel safe. Between the cliffs and mountains and the sea you are safe. Here, you are safe." 

I closed my eyes and took Zhongli's hands in mine. His hands were large, strong and warm but his fingers were elegant, dexterous and capable as he entwined them with mine. 

"I'm sleepy.." I said after several long moments of gazing at the moon with him silently. He scooped me up in his arms, cradling me and carrying me back to our bed. 

He laid down and held me to his chest, his grip on me firm and protective. I wriggled free just enough to hold his face in my hands and kiss him. I ran my fingertips over his cheek and jawbones as he worked his lips against mine and slid his tongue into my mouth, brushing his teeth against my bottom lip. He slid one of his hands down my back to my ass, he squeezed and kneaded my flesh before spanking me abruptly. I yelped and felt him smirk against my mouth. 

"Precious thing. You are absolutely delectable, too much so to resist." 

Zhongli rolled on top of me, laying me back on our soft pillows and sheets as he lowered his head to the crook of my neck to kiss and suck bruises already left there from the previous night. It hurt a little, his assault upon already tender flesh, but I was happy to receive both pain and pleasure from him during these times. He ran his hands down my body, squeezing my thighs before bringing his hand between them, circling my clit with his fingertip gently. 

"How do you feel? Not only physically, tell me how you're feeling emotionally. I worry, you know." Zhongli said, though it was hard to focus on his words. 

"Safe.. Being intimate with you, I just feel very safe. I can be vulnerable a-and, I know you'll protect me-" I clenched my teeth as I came, Zhongli continuing to rub my clit and extending my orgasm as long as he could. 

"I.. feel safe as well." He said, holding his cock in one hand and one of my thighs in the other, swirling the tip of his cock around my slick entrance. 

"During the Archon war my only.. encounters were strictly, primal, we'll say. Breeding and nothing more. The experience of intimacy that feels intimate, of.. Making love;" with that he pushed himself into me. 

"This is something I have only experienced with you. Both pleasurable and loving and still filling me with just as much primal desire that clouds my mind and makes me able to think of nothing but filling you.. It feels good. I want you to feel safe. I want you to feel that you are part of me, one with me, and together nothing can harm us." 

He cradled me in his arms and kissed me gently, moaning quietly into my mouth as I clenched my walls around him. I closed my eyes and let myself focus on nothing but this feeling and this moment. No anxiety or nervousness or fear, only Zhongli's warm body, his strong arms, his hot breath against my neck and the pleasant ache of his cock stretching me. 

Zhongli stroked my cheek gently, looking into my eyes as he came, his mouth slightly agape as he shuddered and his hips bucked involuntarily. 

"I love you darling. Are you ready to sleep now?" he asked, smiling as he pulled out of me and laid next to me, holding me to him with his strong chest against my back. 

"Mmmhmm..." I said sleepily, unable to keep my eyes open. 

[wrencatte]

@breakfastteatime said to release the words, and I know how to make her regret encouraging that. here are some words. 736 of them to be exact. And towards the end are some BD-1 related words that will probably get some all caps in my replies. worth it prompt: solitary confinement - fic WIP - prediction: 5k one-shot.

He’s missing for only a few hours before they find him.

Curled up in a tiny ball, legs tucked under his poncho protectively, he almost blends in with the shadows. If it weren’t for the undercurrent of despair in his signature like a homing beacon in the Force, Cere thinks she would’ve missed him completely. It’s a far cry from the laughter that rang over the comms not that long ago – laughter that had cut off abruptly into static and sent them all scrambling.

Cere drops into the little room. Her landing is far too loud is such a tiny space, yet Cal doesn’t react. He doesn’t even twitch. She shines her torch somewhere near his face, whispering his name – and gets nothing. She ducks down to check for consciousness, only for her stomach to sink at the sight of a dull, listless stare.

“Oh, Cal,” she breathes.

She brushes hair from his face, tucking it behind his ears. It’s getting long, she notes. There’s a massive bruise in the middle of his forehead, black-dark and smudged on the edges. His lips are red with blood, speckling his chin. She checks under his poncho for more injuries, using the Force to aid her when her eye fail, and finds nothing life threatening she can sense, so she pinches her torch between her knees and gathers his hands in hers.

They’re cold.

Cere cradles them carefully, inspecting the damage. More blood, caked into his nail beds, glistening on the tips where the skin is rubbed raw. He’s missing nails on his pink and ring fingers. She glances down and finds smears of red – and white scores in the stonework, and a fingernail laying innocently in the dim light cutting through from above. Her heart aches. What happened to you?

She squeezes his hands rhythmically, partly to keep him warm and partly, partly because this is just something they do, when they’re able, when Cal gets caught up in a drawn-out echo. He likes the anchor to the present, he told them. He never feels it when he’s actually in the echo itself, but it’s always the first thing he’s aware of when he comes out of it. It makes him feel safer, knowing he’s not alone.

This doesn’t look like an echo, but even after all these months she’s nowhere near an expert on psychometry.

“Come back, Cal,” she whispers anyway, his hands so cold and his gaze so empty.

He doesn’t respond.

“Cere,” Merrin hisses from above. “The system will auto-boot soon. The droid cannot stop this one.”

“I’ve got him,” she calls back. Merrin says nothing more, but she sees the Nightsister hover at the edge of the ceiling door, peering down at them with barely hidden anxiety.

Cere is gentle as she gathers Cal into her arms, the Force helping her bear the weight. She doesn’t want to let him go, but she pulls her power close and raises him slowly until he’s high enough for Merrin to take. She double checks that nothing was left behind then follows them up with a Force assisted jump.

Merrin cradles Cal in her arms like he’s something precious, her expression pained and horrified. His eyes are still open, thin slivers of dull green between his eyelashes. His head falls over the crook of Merrin’s arm, exposing his throat in a way that makes Cere swallow thickly. Merrin nudges him until his temple is resting on her shoulder instead, curled up smaller than either of them have ever seen.

“What did they do to you?” Merrin asks, voice low and dangerous, the air sparking green around her. “I will kill them.”

Cere lays a hand on her shoulder. “We take care of Cal first,” she says. Merrin glares at her for a long moment before she reluctantly nods then climbs to her feet. “BeeDee! We have him!”

The droid dashes out of the shadows, whirl-clicking quietly, and clambers up Merrin to perch on her shoulder. His optics flash as he tries to start up his scanner, but they’re too damaged. He bwoops almost silently. It sounds wretched through his ruined speakers.

Cere taps his chassis in reassurance before they're off, alarm blaring loudly behind them. It's too late though. They rush into the Mantis just as the guards mobilize, shouts starting up when they find the guards around the cellblock Cal was in already taken care of.