#i'm too sensitive and i should learn how to ignore it better

[lakesparkles]

Hello Tumblr!!! I love being on Tumblr!! Thank you, people from Tumblr, for being so nice!! :D

(I'm way too sensitive for Instagram, what if I delete my account there and never post again?)

[beelmons]

I have a filthy idea and I love your blog sorry

Hotch x reader x Early seasons!Spencer (or really any older BAU with reader and Spencer, someone has to show him the ropes, right?😩)

Reader is bound and blindfolded. Hotch is trailing a popsicle over reader's skin, showing Spencer where they are most sensitive and Spencer licks the trail of sticky syrup left behind. 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️(lord have mercy I'm a whore)

A/N: Ok so, i really got into this idea and i ended up doing WAY too much and i'm sorry it's so late but i got too excited. anyways, have this monstruosity.

A different kind of teacher

cw: sensory deprivation (hand binding, blindfold, noise-cancelling headphones), threesome, temprature play (use of frozen goods), fellatio, fem!reader, implied polyamory i guess

word count: 1,996 (on accident)

"I don't think that's—" Spencer tried to interrupt when his boss's actions got questionable.

"It's alright." Hotch answered as he gently tied the blindfold behind your head "She's done this before. I told you, if you’re going to learn how to please her, you’re going to do it my way."

"But that's—" he tried to argue again.

"Reid." Aaron said commandingly.

Their bickering was rather amusing, really. Everything about this situation was. A love-struck puppy, namely Spencer, that had found  out you were having an affair, for a lack of a better word, with your boss. Who was later given the odd offer to join in, one that he barely comprehended the dynamic of. The one he ended up accepting because having half of you was better than having none.

The situation in question was no other than your bare body binded to a sex sofa, yes, the one with a funny oval-like shape, in the middle of a street motel. Mind you, a high category one, courtesy of a very spoiling unit chief. Hands tied behind the furniture, a blindfold securely tied against your eyes, and a pair of sound-canceling headphones that would be eventually put on you. 

“I don’t think I can do this.” the younger man confessed. 

His superior shot him a glare, and his finger raised to press against his own lips, indicating the other to keep quiet. He then proceeded to place the aforementioned gadget against your ears to muffle the sounds. 

“You can’t let your nerves overtake you.” Aaron began to talk, walking closer to the chair where Spencer was sitting “Otherwise, you won’t enjoy yourself. And believe me, she wants you to have as much fun as she does.” 

“I just have never done something remotely similar.” he admitted. 

“And that’s okay, that’s why I’m here to guide you.” Hotch patted him on the shoulder, prompting him to stand up, to which Reid complied. 

As the older man directed himself to the cooler, included with the room by the way, Spencer stood awkwardly next to where you were laying. Regardless of his statements about the situation, the twitching of his dick as he watched you breathing, rather heavily, blissfully ignorant of the sinful deeds they were about to do to you, was giving away just how much into it he was. 

“You should learn to use your tongue first.” the boss interrupted his train of thought “We’re going to do a little exercise, okay? I’ll trail this over her skin, her most sensitive spots. Clean her up. You have to be thorough, she doesn’t like feeling sticky.” 

You were absolutely deprived of such supportive conversation, or anything else for that matter. It was exciting in and on itself to be expectant of what would happen next, along with no indication whatsoever of what that would be. Two, insanely hot, men having you at their entire disposal was certainly arousing. 

Such anticipation caused you to moan rather loudly when you felt a cold object hit the side of your neck, slowly melting down towards the base, the feeling only lasted a couple of seconds since it was shortly after contrasted with the warm sensation of what you figured was a tongue following the strip. 

It was quick. It left your skin as soon as it came.

The lack of attention, though, would not last long. You felt a new sting of coldness, only this time it was right over your breast; instead of dripping down, the same tool, whatever it was, moved downwards until it reached your nipple. You could feel it going slightly numb from the temperature, it was making your stomach tighten. Again, you felt it part and something a lot hotter took its place. This time, you could easily tell who was taking advantage of your breasts by the bony structure of the fingers. 

Spencer was ravishing on the sweet taste of the icicle mixed with the salty notes of your sweat. His tongue was eager and clumsy, but pleasurable nonetheless, his fingers gentle and attentive to the sides of the skin, holding back to not let his animalistic side just come out. 

“That’s good.” Hotch praised the young man “It’s all about not knowing what to expect. About surprising her with sudden pleasure.” 

Back in your deprived state, you were simply squirming with delight at how your chest was being treated, mouth slightly agape to allow soft sounds of pleasure to escape. The gap was tempting for one of the men, still unknown to you, to defile, and suddenly you felt something land over your lips. You recognized the mixture of freezing water and sugar, and your tongue instinctively darted out to take a lick. 

The treat instead began to lewdly penetrate your mouth, simulating a fellatio, and the length of it would teasingly near the back of your throat each time. 

The icicle departed promptly, leaving your lips parted and tingly from the coldness, expectant to be inserted again. Instead, the temperature of the new foreign object was the complete opposite, its structure soft to an extent, and salty in flavor. It didn't take you long to notice it was no longer the sugary dessert, but one of your partners' cock.

"Go slow at first, it takes her a second to get used to it." Hotch dragged a hand behind your head, pushing forward gently so you could get more of his shaft into your mouth “But she can take it very well.” 

His fingers trailed over your scalp lovingly. His moans were translated in heavy, airy exhales through his nose. He was obviously playing tough for Spencer, no matter how much your mouth actually disarranged him on the daily. He thrusted a couple more times, until he was fully hard, before he pulled out. 

He made a signal with his hand to indicate the younger to take over, and Reid swallowed back a knot of nervousness. He awkwardly cupped your head between his palms and allowed his tip to testingly land on your tongue. He shuddered with pleasure as your lips hungrily wrapped around it, hollowing your cheeks almost immediately. 

You could tell the member had changed simply by the shape. Leaner girth, more swollen head, and an almost desperate way of moving. He started doubtfully at first, and later his pace began to pick up. His grip on your head was tight, making you unable to move away, and with every push he would reach deeper into your mouth, and the pulsations on his veins would also have a stronger beat. 

Spencer was losing it, mouth parted open, head thrown back, desperate whines spilling from his throat. His inexperience was his biggest enemy, because he didn’t last much inside of you. When he started to feel his orgasm coming, he decided to pull away. His fist curled around his shaft, pumping the base at a rapid speed, his tip pointing to his own stomach, since, to him, coming inside your mouth seemed dirty, almost too humiliating. 

Hotch stared with amusement at how respectful he was being, rookie mistake, he figured. Too overwhelmed with his own pleasure, Spencer had his eyes fully shut, and became absolutely unaware of the second Aaron gently placed his fingers over the moving hand, pushing it down to aim the tip towards your mouth. 

You simply waited for the inevitable, the white strings landing on your tongue, salty and thick, and a lot more than you had expected. When you were sure no more would come out, you attempted to swallow, but before you could close your mouth a thumb invaded it, keeping it open. 

“Watch this magic trick.” Aaron showed Spencer the evidence of his release before shutting your mouth again. 

You took the hint and swallowed, immediately opening your mouth once again to show no trace of the substance left. 

Spencer had to bring a hand to his face to hide his blush, although his again half-hard dick gave him away. 

“That’s actually really hot.” he said shyly, brows furrowed in embarrassment. 

“It is.” Hotch smiled in his direction “Now that you’ve come, it’s just natural to return the favor, don’t you agree?” 

The older man directed himself again to the cooler, taking now a single ice cube that he held with a piece of clothing to avoid getting frostbite. 

“Your training isn’t over yet.” he told Spencer once he was back to your side “Next, let’s get you a real challenge. If one drop of this cube gets on the sofa, you don’t get to touch her the rest of the night.” 

“W-What? Isn’t that a bit harsh?” he complained. 

“If you make her cum before it fully melts,” Hotch ignored the protest “You can fuck her first.” 

Again, your senses were too limited to hear their bet being formed. During their exchanges you just waited patiently, eager to know what would come next. Every once in a while, when the cool air hit you, you tensed up expecting something to happen, and even when it didn’t you just got more excited. 

At last, another sting of coldness hit your skin, this time it was further to the south, just above your clit. You could feel the object slowly melting, the lack of heat spreading to your bundle of nerves, your labia, and almost to your entrance. It was mildly uncomfortable, but exciting nonetheless. 

Out of a sudden, you felt a muscle enter you. You bolted in ecstasy due to finally getting much needed friction on your lower body. It trailed up, slowly and steady, until it reached the top. The lips rounded your sensitive nub, and you could feel them suck on it. The sensation was overwhelming, making you twist over the sofa, shameless erotic moans filling up the room. 

The water kept making its way down your sex, and the tongue diligently prevented it from reaching all the way to the leather, driving you insane with each lap at it. Your hands struggled against the binds that tied you down. You wanted nothing more than to hold his head down and bury it against you, to have him flush against your entrance, just licking you over and over again. 

A hand landed on your head, indicating that you should keep your movements to yourself. The commanding ambience just added to your stimulation, the mouth down your body sucking the neverending stream of water as if trying to lick it dry. Your thighs attempted to close around his head, and you were finally able to grind against him. For some reason, that did it for you, and you allowed your climax to reach you, and your fluids to come out. 

“Impressive.” Hotch praised as he removed the ice cube from your body. 

Spencer, however, did not stop, his tongue moving ruthlessly against your entrance, absolutely drunk on your taste. Aaron could see you squirm uncomfortably, being pushed to a point of overstimulation, hands restlessly clinging onto nothing in an attempt to release the slight pain on your abused clit. 

“Reid.” he called trying to make him stop; the younger man, however, was entranced by your pussy, and did not react to the mention of his name. Hotch was forced to step closer, tangle his fingers on the blond’s hair, and pull his head back by tugging on his locks, forcing him away from you “Behave. There’s plenty of time for more later.” 

He spoke so sternly that it sent shivers down Spencer’s spine, almost as he did during work cases. He nodded with compliance and straightened himself again. 

“Sorry.” Reid ashamedly said. 

“It’s alright. I know how addicting it can be.” while talking, he rummaged through a go-bag he had brought earlier into the room. “Now,” he tossed a condom towards Spencer “Get ready for lesson number two.”

[hbyrde36]

Caught in the Undertow

Hi friends! I'm so sorry for the huge gap between updates. I've moved into a new position at work recently, and while it comes with many perks (hello pay raise), the added responsibilities are MASSIVELY cutting into my writing time so unfortunately updates may continue to come slower than I would like. BUT, please know I love my little stories so so much, and I'd NEVER leave a fic incomplete!

Chapter Seven

WC: 6286 | R: Explicit | TW: Suicidal Ideation/Depression | Ch 7/10 | AO3

Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4 Ch 5 Ch 6 <-

Eddie pulled the bedroom door shut behind him, letting it slam before leaning his weight back against it. His breath came in pants and gasps, and he tried desperately to catch it as his heart raced, pounding painfully against the fragile walls of his chest.

Steve kissed him.

On the mouth. 

After looking at him—like that. 

Steve kissed him like he was someone special, someone good, someone worth wanting.

Eddie’s lips quirked up into a small, crooked smile remembering the feel of it, soft and warm and inviting. Steve had already started to feel like a kind of home to him. A place of safety and comfort, and his kiss was all of those things and more. 

Sudden laughter forced its way up his throat, bubbling out of his mouth without his permission. Could Steve… 

Did Steve actually, beyond all reason, like him too?

He hiccuped, choking on air as his manic giggles were overcome by shoulder shaking sobs, and he slid to the floor in a long-limbed heap. It felt like he’d been handed everything he could want on a silver platter, and lost it in the same instant. 

Because Eddie knew he didn’t deserve it, that he couldn’t let himself have it. He’d only screw it all up. There was no way he wouldn’t. Then he’d get hurt, and worse, he might hurt Steve too. 

No, if he’d learned anything in this short but also achingly long life, it was better just to not even try.

He should go.

He should pack all his things and run, the way he was always meant to. Away from Hawkins altogether if he wanted to be dramatic, or, at the very least, back home to Wayne. 

There was only one problem. 

He didn’t want to leave.

He didn’t want to give Steve up, and everyone else by extension if he fled like a coward. He liked the way things had been going, the friendship blossoming between them, the trust. 

It was worth everything. 

Worth ignoring the attraction, and forgetting about his late-night fantasies. Worth denying his own growing feelings as best he could. And definitely worth having a difficult conversation. 

At least Steve already knew how fucked up he was. If Eddie could just get him to understand that he wouldn’t be good for him, maybe they could pick up where they left off, as friends, and pretend the kiss had never happened.

He found Steve still in the kitchen, sitting on the floor with his head down, body curled in on itself. The sight of him like that made Eddie’s stomach drop, only serving as further proof that Steve wasn’t meant for him. 

One kiss and he’d already blown it.

Though every fiber of his being screamed to book it out the front door before he was noticed, Eddie swallowed the feeling down and crept closer. 

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” Steve muttered near-silently into the space between his knees.

Eddie took a deep, steadying breath before he spoke. “You're not stupid.”

Steve stilled, the only evidence that he’d heard Eddie’s voice at all. He didn’t look up, not even when Eddie sank to the floor next to him, sitting as close as he dared, laying a tentative hand on the other boy’s arm.

“Would you look at me please, Steve?” Eddie begged softly, his throat gone uncomfortably tight.

Slowly, Steve raised his head, his wide, sad eyes searching Eddie’s face. “Are you mad?”

And God if that question wasn’t like a sharp knife in the gut. Only Steve, sweet, sensitive, caring-to-his-own-fucking-detriment Steve Harrington would ask such a thing. 

“Of course not,” Eddie said, willing the truth of it to ring out in his words, but Steve’s face only fell further.

“You’re clearly not happy about it.”

“You surprised me, is all.” A bit of a simplification, but Eddie didn’t know how else to explain it.

“Not the good kind of surprise then—huh?” 

“I just–I don’t understand,” Eddie ground out, in another woefully inadequate explanation of just how lost he was here. Because really—why him? Why now? Didn’t Steve know he could do better? That he deserved someone better? There were so many questions swirling through his mind, not the least of which being… “I thought you were straight?”

Steve dropped his gaze, giving a self-deprecating snort. “Apparently not, or so I’ve realized.”

“Right.” Eddie let his head fall back against the wood of the base cabinet, restraining himself from slamming his skull into it over and over again the way he wanted, until the physical pain was enough to distract from everything else. Despite what was happening, and his own wavering doubts, he was still trying to get better.

To be better.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn't have…” Steve began, trailing off with a little shake of his head. “I get it, if you hate me now.”

The knife already firmly embedded in Eddie’s core, twisted. “Steve, how could you even think that?”

It took a second, and for Steve to flash him a certain side-long look before it sank in, and Eddie remembered that that’s precisely what he’d done to Steve before.

“Okay, that’s fair,” Eddie said, gritting his teeth. “I’m sorry, I shouldn't have walked away from you like that. I just needed a minute to think.”

“And what–uh, w-what do you think?” 

“Steve, I’m—” Eddie looked down at his lap, mindlessly fidgeting with his hands as he worked up the courage to say what needed to be said. “Flattered, which is the understatement of the century. You are one of the best people I know. I feel so incredibly lucky to have you as a friend after everything, but I… I can’t do this.” Eddie forced himself to raise up and meet Steve’s eyes again, needing to make absolutely sure there was no misunderstanding between them about this. “And I need you to believe me when I say it has nothing to do with you, this is all me. Okay?”

Steve bobbed his head in a nod, offering a tight lipped smile. “Sure, y-yeah. I get it. No–no problem.”

Eddie did the same as he pushed himself to his feet, reaching out his hand like an olive branch to help Steve up.

For a moment he thought it would be alright, all things considered, but the tension in the room was palpable as they finished dealing with the groceries in silence. It was incredibly awkward, neither of them knowing what to say to the other now. Where before they’d always danced around each other easily, anticipating the other's movements, Eddie felt like he was constantly in the way.

There was something sadly poetic about that. 

It was purely out of panic, the desperate need to ease the thickness in the air, that he asked about having the kids come over that night. Not that he didn’t want to see them—he did—he just hoped he was up for it.

Steve agreed with a similar air of desperation and painfully forced cheerfulness. 

It made Eddie’s insides squirm, knowing they were each faking it for the other, and he couldn’t help wondering if he’d been selfish, making the wrong choice in staying. He thought that by not running he was being brave, but maybe it just made him a different kind of coward.

To no one's surprise, Dustin was the first to arrive hours later, his mother’s car barely rolling to a stop before he was leaping out of it, flying up Steve’s front walk while Eddie watched from the front windows. 

The kid was barely through the door before Eddie pulled him in for a crushing hug, unexpectedly overwhelmed at the sight of his goofy grin, and baby-like face. It was almost as if this were the first time he was seeing Dustin since the younger boy had sat crying in the dirt, holding his hand while he bled out in the Upside Down. Eddie’s memories of the last get-together were hazy at best, twisted and dark at worst.

Honestly, he tried to just not think about it, or the weeks of wallowing that had preceded it, preferring to block it all out as best he could.

He squeezed Dustin a little tighter before finally letting go, neither acknowledging the longer than necessary greeting or the way Eddie sniffled a little as they separated, something he was immeasurably grateful for.

The rest of the party arrived shortly after, dropped off by Mrs. Wheeler, who gave a tentative wave when she spotted Eddie’s form in the doorway, highlighted by the overhead porch light. It was stiff and unsure, but a wave nonetheless. More than he expected. Maybe public sentiment would change eventually, or maybe Mike was just enough of a little shit that his mom was willing to take the risk of letting him hang out with a formerly suspected murderer if it got him and his friends out of her house.

When the living room was full of the annoying precious voices of their young friends talking over each other and arguing about the choice of movie for the night, Steve finally poked his head out to say hello. He’d been hiding in the kitchen under the guise of cleaning and prepping snacks or whatever, but Eddie knew it was only an excuse. That kitchen had been spotless hours ago. 

It was always spotless. 

Steve was avoiding him, not that he blamed him, but it still stung.

“Did you little shits come to a decision yet?” Eddie asked, partly to distract himself, partly to get this show on the road. Normally he thrived in noise and chaos but tonight it had him feeling a little on edge.

Max huffed. “No, apparently we need a tie-breaker.”

“Okay, say no more. What are my choices?”

“Legend or Teen Wolf,” Dustin said.

“Legend, obviously,” Eddie scoffed. Because who in their right mind would choose to watch Marty McFly turn into an overgrown basketball playing mutt, when Tim Curry as Darkness was right there?! 

His quick reply was immediately followed by Steve’s equally resolute shout of, “Teen Wolf!”

Lucas turned to Max with a proud smirk. “I told you we’d need Robin.”

“Where is she anyway?” Dustin asked.

Right on cue, there was a crash in the foyer as the front door burst open, banging hard against the wall.

“Sorry I'm late!” Robin called out, skidding around the corner. The plastic bag full of candy she held, clearly ‘borrowed’ from Family Video, slipped from her hand, the contents of it spilling out across the carpet.

When she crouched to the floor to collect the dozen-or-so little boxes, Eddie started to get up from the couch to help, but hesitated as Steve leapt to her aid, the two of them having some kind of silent conversation with their eyes, ending with Steve asking her to help him with something in the kitchen.

Subtle, Steve. Real subtle.

But before the two of them could actually escape, Dustin let out a disgusted groan. “Duuuuude, can’t you two make out some other time?”

“Yeah! We’ve been waiting.” Erica added.

Were they serious?

Not that Eddie necessarily expected the teens to have picked up on Robin’s inclinations the way that he had, but if you spent more than a few minutes in the dynamic duo’s presence it was clear they were closer to brother and sister than anything even remotely resembling romantic partners.

Steve let out a long-suffering sigh, throwing his hands up. “How many times, Henderson? How many times do we have to tell you we’re not—it’s never going to happen!” He spared Eddie a worried glance, as if afraid he might believe Dustin’s nonsense. 

Like Eddie would have any right to care after rejecting him that morning.

“But you’re both single! You drive her everywhere… and y’know, you’re a boy, she's a girl,” Dustin pointed out.

Lucas nodded in agreement. “He’s got a point, Steve. You are always together.”

“I think you and Robin make a cute couple,” El said, smiling innocently. Mike, sitting beside her, only crossed his arms over his chest, looking extra surly, while Will on her other side, was similarly silent, but more of the quietly amused variety.

As Eddie watched it all unfold, he couldn’t help noticing that while everyone else was zeroing in on Steve and Robin, Max was looking at him, her eyes narrowed and strangely suspicious. He cleared his throat, tugging his t-shirt collar away from a suddenly clammy neck.

“C’mon guys,” Robin said, laughing nervously. “We’re not—”

Unable to take it anymore, and maybe looking to avoid a certain redhead’s x-ray vision, Eddie jumped in. “Let me get this straight,” he started, facing Dustin since he seemed to be the ringleader of this particular circus act. “Are you saying men and women can’t be just friends?” 

Dustin rolled his eyes. “No, but—”

“And doesn’t Steve drive all of you everywhere? Like, all the time?”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“Gee, you sure do spend a lot of time with Max. Should I start bugging you about it?”

“Hey!” Lucas shouted, indignant.

Steve snorted, covering his mouth a little too late to stop it from slipping out. Eddie grinned, forgetting their earlier awkwardness, and turned to throw him a wink over his shoulder.

“That’s ridiculous, we’re just friends!” Dustin insisted. “She's with Lucas! And I have a girlfriend!”

Eddie tilted his head, blowing out a long breath. “I don't know. I mean, we’ve never actually met Suzy. Do you expect me to just take your word for it that you’re not secretly canoodling with your very close female friend?”

Erica wrinkled her nose. “Ew, don’t say canoodling!”

“Technically some of us did meet—” Mike started to say until Eddie cut him a hard glare.

Dustin scowled, sinking back into the couch with his arms crossed. “Okay! Fine! You’ve made your point.” 

“Good,” Eddie said, with a definitive nod.

“I would never do something to hurt the party like that,” Dustin grumbled under his breath. “For the record.” 

Steve offered Eddie a small, grateful smile before finally fleeing the room with Robin in tow.

With the boredom of waiting returned in full force, the boys' volume did the same, their conversation turning to D&D and something about the last time they’d all attempted to play together before Will moved away. Eddie tried to follow along, but he was out more than he was in, too busy wondering what Steve needed to talk to Robin about in private so badly. 

Him probably.

So really, it wasn’t Eddie’s fault for absently agreeing to whatever Dustin had just said.

“Sure, kid. Whatever you want.”

All at once the room fell blessedly silent.

“Wait, really?!” Dustin squeaked.

Uh oh.

Eddie’s eyes darted from one eager face to another, and he knew he was screwed when even Mike looked moderately interested. “Remind me what I've just signed myself up for again?”

With a smug grin, Dustin informed him that he’d agreed to run a one shot for them, and to call Jeff, Gareth, and Grant to ask them to join too.

“Don’t worry though, Max and El said they’d just watch.”

“And maybe not even that!” Max said, her voice full of sarcastic glee.

Eddie resisted the urge to roll his eyes. As if the number of players was the issue. Reflexively, he opened his mouth to say ‘no way’, but remembered the borrowed notebook he had hidden away upstairs, a carefully thought out adventure already well into the making on its pages. 

“Actually,” he began after a beat. “I’ve been working on something that would be perfect.”

“When could we play?” Will asked excitedly, speaking up for the first time since Eddie had met him.

“Give me a few weeks to get ready, kid, and I promise it’ll blow your minds.”

With matching grins and buzzing excitement, Will, Dustin, and Lucas shared high fives, but their celebration was quickly cut off by the resident negative Nancy of the younger set.

…No fault to his actual sister, Nancy. 

“I don’t know what you’re all so happy about,” Mike spat. “My mom said no more basement and Eddie isn’t allowed in the school. Where would we even go?”

Before Eddie could reply that he’d work it out somehow, even if it meant squeezing them all into his small trailer for an afternoon, an approaching voice spoke up. 

“You could play here,” Steve offered, as he and Robin strode back into the room, arms laden with overflowing bowls of popcorn.

Eddie bit his lip. Even as Dustin was already thanking Steve, he had to ask, “are you sure?” 

Who knew what things would look like in a few weeks. If Eddie would still be staying there, or if Steve would have had enough of him by then and kicked him to the curb. What if they never got over that stupid kiss?

Would they even still be friends?

“Yeah, It’ll be fine,” Steve answered, quickly tacking on, “It’ll be great.” 

Eddie couldn't help feeling like Steve was talking about more than just a game of D&D. 

He wanted to believe things between them would be fine, really he did, but as the chatter stopped and the movie started—Teen Wolf, because Robin was an ungrateful traitor—and Eddie settled deeper into his spot on the couch surrounded by children, with Steve sitting clear across the room, cramming himself into an over-sized arm chair with Robin, the distance felt like a visible representation of the rift he’d caused between them this morning.

This is what he’d wanted though, Eddie reminded himself.

Some space. A buffer. 

Not wanted, exactly, but it’s what he knew needed to happen. A fact that didn’t make it suck any less. 

Eddie tried to relax, turn his brain off, and enjoy the mindless entertainment playing out in front of him, but no matter how hard he concentrated on the screen, his gaze always managed to wander over to Steve, who was steadfastly staring, unblinking at the TV. 

When it got so bad that he’d completely lost the non-existent plot of the movie, he pushed himself to his feet, making a beeline to the other room. 

What he wanted was a stiff drink, but he’d settle for a soda, and maybe some fresh air and a smoke.

Eddie yanked the fridge door open forcefully, the cool air coming out of it washing over him. Instead of bringing relief, the sudden chill sent shivers down his spine. His vision swam as unease made his stomach turn sour, and out of nowhere he had the strangest feeling of being untethered from his body. 

He must have stood in front of this damn thing a million times since that night, when he’d stumbled into the kitchen drunk off his ass after breaking into the fancy liquor cabinet in what he now knew was Steve’s dad’s office, still angry at the world, still wanting to die as he screamed his frustration right in Steve’s face.

But for some reason, this time he found himself being forcibly flung back to those awful moments.

Hard as he worked to shut it all down, the memories kept coming, repeating over and over again in a relentless onslaught as he gripped the handle of the refrigerator hard enough to make the plastic creak. 

“Jesus H. Christ. What a meddling pack of fucking do-gooders you are. So what if they’re after me. Who cares?” “Maybe I don’t want to sleep it off!” “You should have fucking left me there!”

A renewed sense of shame and guilt flooded him in a wave, like it had been building all this time while he’d been ignoring it, thinking—hoping it would go away.

“Open the door, Eddie.” “Fuck off.” “Unlock this fucking door or I’ll break it down.” “You’re not gonna break your own door down.” “Try me.”

How could he have almost done… that, here? Where his friends, where Steve would have had to see it, would have had to clean up the mess?

Would have had to tell Wayne what Eddie’d done. 

Someone who cared about him, who’d liked him enough to kiss him, after everything. 

And still, ashamed and regretful or not, Eddie knew it would be so easy for that switch inside him to flip again.

“Eddie?” A gentle voice called from what seemed like miles away.

Warm pressure on Eddie’s lower back startled him back to the present. He sucked in a breath as he jumped, spinning around to come face to face with Steve. 

One look into those worried hazel eyes was all it took for the dam to break, sending silent tears streaming down Eddie’s cheeks. 

Steve didn’t hesitate to wrap him up in his arms, and just like he did at night to calm him from his nightmares, Steve murmured soft soothing comfort into his ear as he held him tight. “Just breathe, Eddie. It’s okay. I've got you.”

He hadn’t even known he was holding it, but on Steve’s quiet command he took slow deep breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth until his face was dry and he felt like he was solidly back in his own body again.

Steve’s grip loosened, but didn’t let go as he pulled back enough to meet Eddie’s eyes again. “There you are,” he said with a tentative smile. “Do you want me to send everyone home?”

“No,” Eddie said too quickly, with a jerky shake of his head.

Steve only raised an eyebrow. 

If he was honest, he did want that, but he didn’t want to be the cause of another ruined night, and in the back of his mind he was a little afraid that if he kept pushing people away, they’d stop coming back.

“I don’t know what happened, it… it was kinda like a flashback? But I swear it’s fine now. I’m fine.”

It was clear in the stiffness of his body, the ever present concern in his eyes, and the fact that he still held Eddie in his arms, that Steve didn’t like it, but he didn’t argue, only followed close behind as Eddie made his way back out to the darkened living room, their friends faces lit by the flickering glow of the TV.

Soon enough the credits were rolling, and predictably no one made any moves to leave. Chants for a second movie began and by then, Eddie was game. He felt much better after his little breakdown in the kitchen, and it didn’t hurt that while they were gone Robin had taken his seat, so she could braid Max’s hair. 

Spending another hour and a half smashed together in the big chair with Steve sounded like a fine time, and it would have been, if he hadn’t fallen asleep five minutes in.

Eddie blamed the fading adrenaline.

He woke up alone in the chair just as a Steve sized shadow was throwing a blanket over a snoring Dustin-shaped lump, and pulling Robin to her feet, the room around them completely dark now save for the moonlight trickling in through the front windows. 

“Talked you into a sleepover, did they?” Eddie asked once he, Steve, and Robin were on the stairs and safely out of earshot from the sleeping teens.

Steve scoffed, shaking his head like he was annoyed, but a fond grin played along his pink lips. “Hard to say no when they’d already told their parents.”

“Oh dude,” Eddie chuckled softly, bumping his shoulder into Steve’s as they reached the top of the landing. “You’re such a pushover.”

“Maybe if someone had been awake to back me up,” Steve said, bumping him in return.

Robin pushed past them in a rush when they separated, waving a hand over her head as she went right for Eddie’s door. “I’m gonna crash in the guest room,” she mumbled out through a yawn. “See you dinguses in the morning.”

Eddie stood, mouth agape, watching as she shut and locked the door behind her.

“Oh,” Steve began, looking hesitantly between his own room and Eddie’s face. “I-I didn’t think… You take my bed. I can sleep on the floor if you—” 

“Steve,” Eddie cut in. He could already see Steve shrinking in on himself, tension making his shoulders rise up to his ears, and that had to stop right now. “We've been sharing a bed for at least half of every night for a while now.”

Steve shifted his weight from one foot to the other, staring down at the rug. “Yeah, but I thought you might be uncomfortable now, after—”

“I’m not, if you’re not,” Eddie said, taking his hand and squeezing it. 

Steve instantly relaxed. “Okay, let’s get some sleep.” 

Out of habit, Eddie assumed, born from all the nights leading up to now, Steve’s arms slid around his waist as they got settled in Steve’s bed, much larger and more plush than the one in the guest room, and for a moment they fit together as they always had, like matching puzzle pieces.

“Sorry,” Steve whispered, and started to pull back. 

Eddie held his tongue, wishing for the strength to let Steve let go, but he just… he wanted the comfort—needed it, like he needed air. Without a word he grabbed for Steve’s wrists under the covers, pulling his arms right back to where they were.

He silently promised himself that this would be the last time. After tonight he’d learn to sleep on his own again. Somehow he’d stop himself from waking up screaming, summoning Steve to his side. Somehow he’d learn how to be alone again. This was only temporary, after all.

He had to stay strong, keep a little distance—

Steve let out a contented sigh at his back, his hold on Eddie tightening as his warm breath ghosted over the back of Eddie’s neck.

—Emotionally.

It wasn’t long before Eddie himself fell into a dreamless, and more importantly nightmare-less sleep, for the first time since his night terrors had begun.

In the days following the big sleepover Eddie did not, in fact, move back into his own room. It seemed he wasn’t the only one who had a peaceful night’s rest, and the benefit of them both being spared horrific dreams night after night far outweighed anything else, at least for now.

And whether it had something to do with starting their nights out in the same bed together on purpose or not, their shows of physical… whatever you wanted to call it, started to bleed into the day too. 

Eddie couldn’t even lay the blame on Steve. He literally couldn't stop touching the other boy either. No matter where they were or what they were doing, if they were in the same room, they were touching. 

He tried to resist at first, for all the reasons he knew he should, but it was too easy to give in. They’d already been cuddling every single night, at one point or another, this was just an extension of that, without the nightmares and darkness for cover. They were friends, and platonic cuddling was totally a thing—right? 

If it bothered Steve, he didn’t show it, and Eddie was under no illusions. It didn’t change anything, and if it made them both feel better, then what was the harm? 

A little heartbreak between friends?

It was all fine enough, until it wasn’t.

Eddie’d been having such a good dream. The best dream. It was so real that he could practically taste the skin of Steve’s inner thigh, the tickle of fine hair brushing along his chin as he trailed kisses further and further up to where Steve stood hard and aching before him. And when they changed positions, it was almost like he was really feeling the plush roundness of Steve’s ass as he ground into him from behind.

Because he was.

Fuck.

Eddie’s eyes snapped open at the realization, and sure enough his body was curled tightly around Steve, spooning him from behind, cock hard where it was pressed against Steve’s cheeks.

He threw himself violently from the bed, making no effort to not wake Steve, the only thing on his mind to get the fuck out of this room immediately, lock himself in the bathroom, and take a very fast, very cold shower.

Steve’s door stood open when he crept back out into the hall, his bed empty and the smell of coffee drifting up from the kitchen.

He took his time getting dressed but eventually Eddie had no choice but to pad downstairs and face the music. He sat quietly at the counter, like he did most days, feeling absolutely mortified. 

Steve slid a mug in front of him like normal, The same one he used every day. His mug, like he belonged there. 

As if he hadn’t just crossed a huge line. 

Maybe Steve somehow hadn’t noticed being literally dry humped in his sleep? It didn’t really matter one way or another, it didn’t change the fact that it’d happened, and Eddie knew that meant his time was up.

Eddie wrapped his shaking hands around the mug, warming them, and took a small sip of the bitter drink as he struggled to find his words. “Listen, I—” he began, gaze trained down on the countertop. God, he couldn’t even bring himself to meet Steve’s eyes over his cup. “I can’t tell you how much being here has meant to me. Everything you’ve done, it’s so…”

“I didn’t really do anything,” Steve countered. “I was just here.”

“Sometimes that’s all you need,” Eddie went on. “Someone to just be there. No one but Wayne has ever taken care of me the way you did. But I’m doing better now, and I think I should go home before I overstay my welcome. I’m sure you have better things to do with your time than babysit—”

“I get it,” Steve cut in quietly. “You don’t have to explain. I’m surprised you stayed at all after I practically threw myself at you the other day. And you’re right, you don’t need me anymore. I’m just holding you back now, if anything.”

Eddie’s head snapped up. “How the hell do you figure that?”

Now it was Steve who looked uncomfortable, glancing away as he hunched his shoulders. “N-nothing, sorry. It doesn’t matter.”

“Steve?”

Steve sighed, the sound bearing a heavy weight, sad and resigned. “It gets… lonely in this house sometimes. I wanted you to stay if it would help, but I was also being selfish. You make it all feel less—empty.“

It hit Eddie suddenly, something Wayne had said to him a while back. That Steve needed him every bit as much as he needed Steve. They’d both been so focused on Eddie’s issues this whole time that he’d sort of forgotten that. And though he’d never admit it to the old man’s face, Uncle Wayne was hardly ever wrong.

He could deal with the embarrassing consequences of sticking around later, as well as his probable battered heart as he continued to fall for someone he couldn’t have. Now It was Eddie’s turn to be a good friend, to suck it up and be there for Steve the way he was always there for everyone else.

“Okay, then. I’m staying.”

“No. I didn’t mean to…” Steve trailed off, setting his coffee cup down to wave his hands. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to,” Eddie insisted, injecting every bit of sincerity he could into the words. “I thought I should give you your space back, but if you still want me here, I’ll stay a while longer.”

It was the truth, maybe not the whole truth, but enough.

“Okay, yeah. That’s, um—yes.”

“Glad that’s settled.” Eddie upended his own mug, draining the rest of his coffee before it cooled. “So, what’s the plan for today?

“Robin’s been bugging me to hang out again ever since the other night, so I was thinking about taking her to lunch or something. Would you want to come?”

“No, I'm good here. I should really keep working on the new campaign anyway since I promised the kids. Sounds like you two need some one-on-one time anyway.”

Eddie really did try to work on his plans, but it wasn’t long before he became restless, winding up in Steve’s room for some unknown reason.

Fine, he was snooping. 

But that wasn’t the only reason, was it? He missed Steve. The other boy had only been gone for like an hour and Eddie was already acting like a listless housewife waiting for her husband to return from war.

This was officially getting out of hand.

What had he been thinking earlier telling Steve he’d stay?! Every moment he delayed returning to reality would only make it all worse in the long run. To be so close to Steve but not let himself be with him. It was becoming it’s own kind of self-harm, bordering on torture.

Friends didn’t sleep in the same bed every night, no matter what Eddie’d been telling himself. He had to stop living in this fantasy world before he did something reckless and dumb. 

He hurled himself down onto Steve’s bed. Half of his body actually landed on the bed, while the rest hung off the edge, his hair pooling on the carpet below. He glanced around the room lazily as blood rushed to his head, leaving him pleasantly dizzy. Everything looked a little different from this angle. Except for that fucking wallpaper. How was he this gone on a guy who could just live with wallpaper like that? 

With a loud, heartfelt groan he rolled over onto his stomach, head still hanging down and finally spotted something… curious. 

There under the bed, partially hidden behind a deflated basketball and a small collection of forgotten socks, was a plain cardboard box. Nothing remarkable about that, except that the bottom corner was stained the dark rust of old blood, as if it had soaked in it and dried.

Eddie slid gracelessly down to the floor head first, crawling half way under the bed to pull the box out into the light. He was uncomfortably aware that this was a total violation of Steve’s privacy, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself from opening the flaps, and was completely unprepared for what he found. 

Tucked inside, folded neatly despite the fact that it was covered in blood and filth, was his own denim battle vest, the one he’d chucked impulsively at Steve. The various buttons and patches were worse for wear, but all still present and accounted for. It was… nice that Steve had held onto it, but why hadn’t he said anything? 

Why hide it away like this? 

Eddie set the vest aside to see what else Steve had seen fit to squirrel away, finding what looked like the same tactical pants and jacket that Steve had been wearing when he went off to fight Vecna, all covered in the same dark dried blood that had no doubt seeped into the cardboard that held it.

He was still sitting there on the floor, staring in confused disbelief at the open box when a shadow fell over the bedroom door, drawing his attention.

“Oh–” Steve gasped, his face draining of all color as he took in Eddie’s position and what lay in front of him. “Um… I can explain?”

Eddie didn’t know what to think, and could only continue to look up at him, eyebrows raised.

“Okay, I don’t know if I have, like, a good explanation, but—” Steve blew out a long breath, raking a hand nervously through his hair as he crossed the room, sitting down on the far end of the bed. “I’m not sure if I even fully realized what I was doing at the time, a–and y’know, we had no idea yet if you were going to make it or not.” He paused for a long beat, clearing his throat, and looked away to stare out the window at the fading late afternoon sun.

“I would have kept your vest no matter what, to make sure you got it back, or Wayne, if the worst happened. But when I went to throw out my own ruined clothes I just—I couldn’t stop thinking about how it was your blood I was covered in, and if you died, then…“ Steve sniffled, tearing his gaze away from the outside world to look deep into Eddie’s eyes, as if they too were pleading with him to understand. “It would be all there was left of you. I just couldn’t bring myself to get rid of any of it.” 

Eddie chewed on his bottom lip, quietly digesting what he’d heard. Before he could begin to think of a response Steve groaned, covering his face with his hands. 

“Jesus, it sounds even worse when I say it out loud. I’m sorry, I know it was crazy. I-I’m just gonna shut up now.”

Maybe someone a little more stable would have been weirded out by the whole thing, but it was like he and Steve spoke the same fucked up language, and all Eddie could think was how, as strange as it was, it was also kind-of romantic as hell.

“Not crazy,” Eddie said softly, climbing to his feet and coming to stand in front of Steve. He reached out to take Steve’s hands, pulling them away to reveal his beautiful flushed face. “Or if it is, I don't fucking care.”

Forgetting all the reasons why it was wrong, why it was a terrible idea, Eddie let Steve go, instead winding his own hands into that mass of soft chestnut hair as he climbed up onto the bed, straddling Steve’s hips to settle in his lap, and caught his lips in a bruising kiss.

Chapter 8

Thanks and love to @penny00dreadful and @pearynice for all your help and encouragement with this!

Permanent taglist(open): @penny00dreadful @pearynice @hitlikehammers @bookworm0690 @wonderland-girl143-blog 

@goodolefashionedloverboi @themagicalari @awkwardgravity1 @rocknrollsalad

Fic taglist (open): @sidebarre

[bewylderbeest]

I haven't seen a lot of discussion about RSD when it comes to ADHD discussions, so I thought I would do the honors since it's been affecting me for many years and I'd like people to know more about it!

I have had a diagnosis for ADHD but was never told- instead learning I had autism through therapy but still having some behaviors that I could never explain that just Happened.

I learned I had ADHD over the summer, and with that, severe rejection sensitive dysphoria.

before reading, please keep in mind that this is mostly talking from personal experience and some skimmed research! not experiencing RSD doesn't mean you do/don't have ADHD, and it may not appear like how it appeared for me. I don't only have autism + adhd either, so those may also contribute to any differences! ^^

RSD is the immense emotional pain after being criticized, rejected, or even teased (ignore my misspell in the panel). This rejection can be real or perceived, and we react like this because it hurts.

The pain can manifest as aggression, bringing on symptoms of depression (thoughts of s/h, isolation, demotivation, etc) and anxiety/panic attacks.

it can cause physical aliments like the above. For me, it causes my heartrate to skyrocket, heart palpitations, the feeling of being in a crisis, and extreme shaking to occur along with stomach pain.

(In fact, right now I'm going through it because making a post talking about this, despite having & dealing with it, makes me scared of other's opinions on it.)

RSD can also take the form of avoiding situations, people, or conversations where rejection or criticism is very possible.

Like other types of dysphoria, it is out of our control and hard to manage. It can last from days to weeks to months, all depending on both the trigger* and the individual.

I had a RSD episode that was on-and-off for a little over a year or two; getting more tame and bearable as it slowly drifted and stopped haunting my mind with the incident.

Compared to the other times my RSD was set off, this moment was a rather big moment in my life and ended up permanently changing me moving forward - which can be the reason why it lasted so long.

Despite how unbearable it can get, there are some ways to cope with it & lessen the effect it has.

Communicate - If you need time to process something that's told to you, you should say so (as difficult as it is). Tell the person(s) involved about your RSD, how you need time to digest information like this and take some time to relax. Trying to respond to the information while going through the head of the dysphoria will be very rough and might not be what you truly want to say.

Distract - This is really useful for me personally! Do something that grabs your attention or occupies your mind. One of RSD's main symptoms is rumination, thinking of something over and over again. I usually listen to music, draw, or play a game that won't frustrate me - like minecraft! (i'd say rain world but some of you would call me a maniac /lhj)

Perspective - This may require some communication, but it can really help and connect with others. See what the involved people thought / perceived, explain, talk. This doesn't always have the chance to end in rainbows and rekindling but at least you understand. Sometimes simply hearing the person explain their own side is enough to ease my RSD, being able to have someone explain themselves to me so i can understand them better.

I also wanna point out the "don't take it personally" thing that people try to use to deal with it isn't something i agree with since we're going to take it personally at first regardless. Later on, not really, but you're trying to cope with the symptoms... telling someone (or yourself) that they're too sensitive & over-reacting is the worse thing you could do.

With time, you can even begin to build up your 'armor' and be able to sustain yourself in situations you might get hurt in. Of course, some things may be able to sneak past and hurt you more than you expect, but at the end of the day, you're trying your best to go about it the best you can while taking so many blows. you're doing great.

OK i dont have a lot more to add so if anyone else would like to talk about their experiences, please feel free! i'm just a little neurodivergent + black artist from new york :]

hope you enjoyed it! sorry for the long post </3

[rosesradio]

See, I thought I'd just wait until you turned anon asks back on... then I realized I can't wait that long. (Ignore that it hasn't even been a day)

Here's me unmasking solely to agree with you that Jason railing Octavian would have fixed him 💙💙💙

–Jasico smut off-anon 💙🖤

i can't believe the jasico smut anon's finally been unmasked 🥺 i feel bad considering that i didn't leave anon off that long/i was just being a silly goose, but still. i'm glad you felt okay to unmask beloved mutual 💌

aaanyways, i did have some jason/octavian ideas i mused about over work i might as well talk about since you came all this way (to my inbox)

i'm sure there's a ship name for jason/octavian somewhere & i'm not the first to come up with jack shit, though for simplicity's sake i'll call/tag them javian

i can see a scenario in which jason & octavian are like childhood friends turned long-time political rivals. jason's been praetor for ages & pratically primed for the position since he could walk (i know richard gave jason more of a rags-to-riches 5th cohort story in canon but tbh...i don't buy that shit. bro's a nepo baby). octavian's jealous & corrupt & flirting with a decent into madness.

i think that the camp jupiter campers would be pretty sexually repressed (first chb's abhorrent sex ed, now this lol). maybe it's unintentional, these campers are fighting & dying & don't have the time or necessity to learn about sex, apparently. jason would probably come to a point where he regularly gets himself off, but octavian...wouldn't. he'd do it a couple times, the stats of which are shocking & worrying at best. he's got shit to do, right? augur here, praetor-to-be there—he has no time for that sort of thing...until he does.

the tension between jason & octavian could develop into a rivals-with-benefits situation. octavian was never one to practice battle, though he starts joining jason, challenging him. jason overpowers him easily, pinning wrists and hips under strong, large hands. he'd say something along the lines of "if i didn't know any better, i'd say you were enjoying this"

...and he is. a lot more than he should.

i think jason would enjoy tying octavian down, finally restraining him to do what he wants. octavian, surprisingly, would like it too. he constantly feels things spiraling out of control, so to have a space he's confined to, an act with the same steps and the same building pleasure, brings octavian a strange sense of comfort and relief.

jason would consider a ball gag to really shut up octavian's quips, though he loves the sound of octavian coming undone too much for that. as stated, octavian's super sexually repressed. although there's a certain amount of shame there, he's too far gone to feel self concious about how he moans and begs for jason. he is really sensitive, too, and it takes a bit of time to build up his stamina. jason's more than happy to help him get there, even if that means getting himself off in various ways during their first few hookups.

there's a few soft moments in their dynamic, though it's far from healthy and fluffy. at times, it's almost like another duty to fulfill, a practice that makes their lives easier. there's a professionalism to it.

at one point, when jason's got octavian laid down on the bed, his cock down his throat as octavian's hands are tied to jason's headboard (thank goodness for a praetor's private quarters...people are not at all getting suspicious about how many times octavian goes in there to "discuss matters of great importance to new rome", or whatever). octavian starts to roll his hips up towards jason on impulse, his thighs trembling.

& jason pins his hips firmly to the mattress, pulling off to give him a stern look. he tells him not to move, to stay absolutely still and take what jason's giving him "like a good boy". & part of octavian hates how demeaning it feels, though at the same time...his cock twitches, leaking a bit of precum. & he manages a "...yes, sir" that surprises even himself. he's not sure where that came from or why he's so turned on by it.

it's like it makes this obscene thing they're doing less obscene...or perhaps more so, breaking decorum in one of the only ways octavian will allow.

jason seems to like it, too, raising his brows before resuming with double the efforts. octavian writhes in his binds, longing to run his fingers through jason's hair. he pants and moans, fighting the urge to roll his hips as he calls him "sir" over and over again, like a prayer.

it doesn't take octavian long to come after that, and jason is sure to incorporate this new discovery from then on out.

[codenamesazanka]

What do you fear the most that mhas epilogue will do and make sure to list your other fears too

Oh god.

I think my biggest fear is Deku going to visit Spinner, and Spinner will validate his ignorant, arrogant, unheroic ass. Whether it's 'Thank you for trying to save Shigaraki' or 'Sorry Tenko stayed being Shigaraki for me and the League instead of giving in to you' or 'Wow, you really are the true hero Stain saw' or 'I see that Shigaraki has entrusted his will on you, so I will cheer you on from now on'.

Of course, a Spinner who validates Deku and essentially surrenders to the Heroes' way of doing things is only a symptom of a much bigger problem that is "Silly League of Villains, Heroes were right all along, save for some tiny mistakes, and now it's time to repent and assimilate" - an overall epilogue where nothing actually changes except some people learn to feel pity and vows to be nicer. So I guess that's my true, core fear. But it's manifesting in Spinner turning into a Deku groupie. Yeah, why not befriend the guy who killed your actual friend and believe in his way of doing things that got your friend killed.

-

Another Spinner fear I have is actually Spinner becoming a 'true' spokesman for the Heteromorphs - less because he doesn't deserve it, more because it's likely that it means his 'stance' has gone to Shouji level and he's telling everyone to not be like him and instead work harder to brave being sprayed by pesticides and endure bullying. So, fear of Spinner being tokenized (again) and becoming a Shoji-like kind of Heteromorph advocate.

Like, I've always thought Spinner's 'fix' was that he should be allowed to be entirely mediocre and be treated right. Put another way, he's not obligated to be exceptional in order to deserve basic decency/proper treatment. Even the worst, most selfish, resentful, weak-quirk, intelligence D, League of Legends gamer loser you know shouldn't be subjected to fantasy racism, because no one should. If he's an advocate, he's an advocate for the losers of the heteromorphs - the weaklings, the delinquents, the criminals? But that's not a very inspiring message! Instead, Heteromorphs should shine bright - and that's the message the manga and Shouji is giving.

Also like, there's no way the new powers that be will let him near a microphone without being declawed - last time he did so, he literally started a riot. There's no way they let him talk about his true feelings - that he was empty; that with the hundreds of Heroes on TV, none gave him hope for change; that it took a most outcasts-of-outcasts Villain team for him to ever feel accepted.

Spinner being an 'advocate' I think would be more him being a cautionary tale - "don't be like me, I'm a Villain and I'm stuck in Tartarus 2.0 for life; you can fight for your rights but not like I did!" He deserves better than that. Heteromorphs deserve better than that.

My other fears

Shigaraki stays dead

Shigaraki comes back but as five-year-old Tenko, so that Heroes can 'raise him properly' to be a Hero

We learn Toga died

We learn Dabi died but Endeavor lived

We never see the MLA ever again

We don't get more Compress backstory

Moonfish gets executed

Gran Torino doesn't die

Hawks being relevant

Hawks still facing no satisfying consequences for killing Twice

Twice being remembered by no one except his killer who's still vaguely mournful about his death but it was for the greater good, he really did think Bubaigawara was a decent guy

HPSC revived

No mention of anything being done about the HATE CRIMES AGAINST CHILDREN in the countryside. Shoji's 'let's shine bright' was it.

Quirk Counseling not completely revised

Aizawa and Mic still basically cursing out Shigaraki for stealing Shirakumo from them and not realizing Kurogiri/Shirakumo genuinely cared about the kid

No one bringing up how fucked up Iron Maidens and Tartarus is.

Tartarus 2.0 is back and everything is exactly the same but the wardens are nicer because they went through sensitivity training

That ending where the manga fast toward 12 years and everyone is in extremely heterosexual marriages with children. Part of this means teenaged Kouta and Eri are hinted to be crushing on each other or something. god.

[harleyshahas]

Been going on an incredibly quiet and slow journey of self-discovery over gender and sexuality the past year and a half and realizing why I have such a weird (kinda dysphoric) relationship to sex and the female body (tmi btw, just getting some thoughts out). Sex and gender talk below.

It's because my lady bits don't work right.

I don't know how to explain it, but I'm just not sensitive in the one place it matters when it comes to non-penetrative sex, and it's such a weird thing to realize over the last 8 or so years why sex both does and does not appeal to me. I have such a hard time labeling myself as asexual because there's such a dissonance of feeling when it comes (ha) to it for me.

I didn't know what an orgasm felt like until I was older (like 18 or so) and could purchase my own vibrator, even after the early teen years of exploring my body and why does this feel like that or what happens if I do this (I knew what sex was from a very young age because I discovered what porn was WAY too early).

There's also the weird dysphoric part of me who sees women in porn (great way to judge sex and bodies, I know), but even just a naked body not having sex (for modeling purposes or studies) and my bits don't look like their's? I know logically nothing is wrong, which is how I can keep the dysphoria at bay, but lately I've been seeing art (very gorgeous art btw) of featuring vaginas in and out of sexual situations and my god, I do not look like that. It's somehow incredibly jarring to see, and I don't quite understand why I'm having an almost negative reaction to it, but it makes me feel self-conscious about my own body and the issues of feeling I have in that place. I don't get it, and it pisses me off, do I take a moment to breathe and ignore my discomfort and look at the gorgeous art anyway because it's beautiful and this is not something that should bother me.

Logically, I know this, and I tell myself this, and I get over it, only to experience the same discomfort the next time I see a hand-drawn vagina and have to repeat the process.

I blame our sex-repressed society and the lack of information and sex-ed afforded to women to learn about their bodies. And internalized misogyny I'm still trying to get over. Thanks, mom.

Anyway.

I don't know where I'm going with this. I don't know if my lack of feeling is tied to my personal perception of womanhood and femininity or if I've just never felt like a woman. I don't have any real relationship with my perception of being female. I've always preferred comfortable jeans and t-shirts and hate dresses, but occasionally, I like to get dressed up nicely to not necessarily look pretty, but it still does nothing for me to feel feminine. I don't feel girly in dresses and nice clothes, but I don't feel bad in them, but my husband bought me a cute dress the other day and I felt bad that all I wanted to do was complain about it. He's bought me like 4 or 5 dresses now in the last few years (they're all cute and I love them!). But I can't help but think they'd look so much better on someone else.

Someone skinnier, someone taller, someone with longer legs, or smaller boobs, or no boobs.

Why can't I look at myself in the mirror when I try on dresses. Why don't I get to fucking look cute in them.

I'm happier with the way I look now than I have been in 20 years, which is a short, bigger girl with DDs and wide hips and an unfortunate hairstyle because I think I'm trying to grow out my hair but I might just give up again because I hate the way it looks at this length.

But I still can't bring myself to feel comfortable in a dress.

I don't know how to explain anything about what I'm feeling. I'm still figuring it out. But ever since I've started privately considering myself somewhere on the non binary spectrum, I've been feeling a bit more confident in myself. I don't know if I actually am, but I like being here.

I wanna start an onlyfans.

[molsno]

hey, sorry if this is out of line, but I'm a "theyfab" (pre-everything guy, waiting for top approval, rly sensitive to hormones so worried about t) dating a transfemme. I want her to feel loved and seen by me - she's also early in transition and I want her to know that me loving her as she is DOESNT mean I won't continue to love her as she grows and changes. She's pretty shy and her only trans girl friends are online. Anyway, I want to learn how to NOT be like the tme people you've interacted with. U can ignore this, but if u do have advice I'd love to hear it!

Also, I'm really sorry about the abuse you've endured. It's not fair. It's not acceptable.

hi, I honestly appreciate you asking for advice! that to me shows that you do really care about her and want to be good to her

I think the most important thing is to keep in mind that she's in an incredibly vulnerable and precarious position. it sounds to me like she doesn't have a big support network. it can be very hard to build something like that as a trans woman (especially early in transition) but it's something that's absolutely vital. a big problem that I think a lot of us face is becoming overly dependent on a tme person (or a few of them) which can be completely devastating if that person leaves. I think the best thing you can do to help her is to encourage her to make more friends of her own. ideally, they should NOT just be your friends that you're introducing her to. she needs to have friends and allies completely separate from you. you cannot do everything for her, nor should you be expecting/expected to - that's a fast way to make sure your relationship falls apart. above all - and this is key - is to understand that you don't own her. she's an independent person, and she deserves to have her own life and make her own choices about it

I feel I should also warn you that this is going to be a very tumultuous time for her. she is literally starting to undergo a second puberty, and it will be just as distressing, hormonal, and emotional as the first one. cut her some slack if she seems irritable or upset for seemingly no reason. for me and a lot of other trans women I know, this was one of the most dysphoria-inducing periods of our lives. it very well might be for her too. it's easy to be upset that the hormones aren't working, or that changes aren't happening fast enough, or that you'll be ugly or not feminine enough, etc. she may express doubts like this. offer her reassurance! it will take time for her to see the changes she wants to see, but they'll come. in the mean time, let her know whenever you notice changes in her. maybe you'll notice her skin is softer, or her hair looks more lush, or her face is rounding out, or her hips are getting wider. let her know that you see these things and compliment her. early transition can very well be a source of joy, if she's able to take pleasure in the little changes, and you can absolutely be a part of that process!

I don't know if your relationship involves sex, and I don't want to make any assumptions about how you two engage in it if so. however, this is a common experience I hear about, so I feel like I should tell you this. don't expect her to have sex with you like a cis man. not only can it be dysphoria-inducing to always have to top, her body will possibly not even be capable of that soon due to the effects of estrogen. if that's how you've been having sex up until now, you'll have to really reorient how you two do things. I haven't read it myself, but I've heard the zine "fucking trans women" by mira bellwether contains a lot of good information on this topic. you may find it useful! I think you can read it at this link, but I'm not sure. if any of my followers have a better link, go ahead and put it in the replies!

finally, and this is honestly just a good tip for relationships in general, listen to her. if she's upset about something, take her seriously and don't pass judgment on her. don't immediately jump on the defensive if she's upset about something you've done in particular. try to put yourself in her shoes and see things from her perspective. show her that she can talk to you about anything and you'll be receptive, and you'll be able to have open, honest communication much more often, which will lead to a much stronger and healthier relationship

thank you for sending this, and thank you for your reassurance about my own trauma as well. it really means a lot to me! it really helps me feel more optimistic to know that there are tme people who are willing to listen to us and be better allies to us. I think your girlfriend is very lucky to have you, and I hope you can both be happy together!

before I go, I know I'm not that knowledgeable about your personal situation, but I would say that if you think testosterone would make you happier, you should pursue it! if you can obtain it, there's nothing wrong with taking it for a week or two, seeing how it makes you feel, and then deciding whether or not to keep taking it based on that. either way, I wish you the best!

[androdetective]

I enjoy reading you takes on the show so I just wanna ask, how do you think a healed/healthy tulio would look like? or do you think he is beyond saving ?

This is a really interesting question. I can imagine what steps he'd have to take to better himself, but I can't see him actually taking them. Tulio is a very proud guy. He also hates vulnerability. He is also very selfish and inconsiderate. Many people point to his high ego as one of his flaws. And to some extent, I agree, but I think the way he goes about it is the actual flaw. A high ego simply means that one has a high self-esteem/importance/whatever. This isn't inherently bad. People valuing themselves is cool. But with him, it leaves him dysfunctional. This impairs his quality of life. It leaves him quite insecure, actually. He's sensitive to people critiquing him or making fun of him. He doesn't like being ignored. Which leads to desperate, often embarrassing, attempts of trying to get attention. He's even had a moment where he admitted he thinks he's a useless asset of the show. Which seems like the opposite of how he presents himself. Both to others and even himself. This is unfortunate for him. These are quite common problems and insecurities. He has a high ego, but he is also very insecure with a lot of things. Like his looks or image or how he appears to friends. It's like he hides behind a high self-esteem to cover up his low/just very mixed and dysfunctional self-esteem.

The thing is, he chooses to be selfish and mean. He chooses to lash out at his friends whenever he gets insecure. He doesn't apologize as often as he should. He takes advantage of everyone. He doesn't learn from mistakes and continues hurting his friends all the time. Having low self-esteem didn't make it so that he had to be a bad person. Even a high self-esteem wouldn't make someone be an inherently bad person. Neither of those things matter when it's his actions that do.

I think that in order for Tulio to heal, he'd have to admit he's not perfect. He'd have to be fine with being a flawed person. And that being flawed doesn't mean he's the worst person ever that doesn't deserve anything. Tulio would have to learn how to cope with not having to rely on constant attention. That his friends still like him even when they aren't paying attention to him. And that his attempts at getting attention aren't the best/can hurt, for himself and even others. He'd also have to realize that lashing out won't make his problems better. And also he'd just have to not be a bad friend/person and be more nice, even if it might leave him vulnerable. We know he likes people. He just doesn't always show it enough. He'd have to apologize to his friends and coworkers and actually take the steps to being better and nicer to them. Also stop exploiting workers. Honestly, he'd have to go over all this in therapy. He has the money for the best therapy too.

But would he? I don't think Tulio likes being insecure. I think he'd like to overcome that, but he wouldn't take those steps. He's too dependent on his facade of being perfect. He'd hate the idea of going to therapy and acknowledging he's flawed. I think he's too comfortable with his maladaptive coping skills. Probably too scared to get better, too. But also, he does like being mean. He likes being selfish and rude and horrible. Even if he didn't have really bad insecurities, he'd still be some sorta mean person.

Now for a hypothetical healed Tulio? I'm thinking he'd be similar to how he was in season 1. That being more calm, less snappy, and a bit more professional (a bit 💀). He still had a bit of an ego, but it wasn't as bad as later Tulio. He was also nicer to his friends and not as cruel. I'm thinking back to those times he wanted to cheer up/make things up with friends. Like cheering up a depressed Bodoque or in the movie where he was very selfless trying to make things right with Juanín. Those times showed a more genuine Tulio, a Tulio that actually does care and has the ability to be selfless. I think if he was healthier, he'd have more moments like these. He'd overwork Juanín less, too. (with the movie I just assumed he'd do that but alas) (Although Juanín would probably still overwork himself as he has genuinely bad workaholism but that's another topic) He'd still have some quirks of his personality but he'd be a more pleasant/tolerable person. His friends would like him more, and he'd be happier. Unfortunately, he's still too set in his ways, so not only will his friends continue to suffer, but so will he. I don't think he's unfixeable, I just think he'll refuse to get better.

[microwavingmyths]

Behold, Shinichiro and Mikey's generation swap (with ranomi) (still a pretty shallow concept)

@chaoticdelinqueerwithglitter

I'm still unsure as to how much I keep the same events as in canon (with only the ages changing for the characters but their roles being kept the same, ex: Shinichiro's death)

That being said, since it's ranomi, it's Bonten and Bonten means at least dead Izana and dead Senju - that's non-negotiable

All the canonical death being kept would help a lot navigating the au, though. ranomi is far easier when there's no shinomi present, requited or not (but them both happening at the same time would be sooooo. SO.)

The Haitani don't get role swap - Ran remains the oldest and Rindo the youngest, the contrary is.. impossible to conceive, it's a farrr too foreign idea for me to think about

S62 is younger than Mikey's generation - Izana was younger than Mikey (and Emma)

Which means that Mucho was younger than Sanzu. is?

Focusing on Akashi because yes: if Takeomi was 0, Sanzu (and Mikey) would be 9, Senju (and Emma) 8, Ran 6 (and Rindo 5) - Shinichiro would be 1

Is it still Takeomi and Shinichiro's friendship that pushed Sanzu and Mikey's friendship to form aaaaaaaa I don't know, let's ignore that

Mikey turns to delinquency as a teen, Shinichiro follows because of course and then so do the Akashi

Since he's the youngest here, Takeomi is less impacted by God of War and whatelse - he can still hold his ground, and appear collected when he's panicking inside his head but he stays openly true to his easily-frightened (even if he doesn't admit it), sensitive to critics, self than his canon counterpart - that being said he still has moments where he's being boastful and immature

being the youngest means it's easier for him to allow himself to be vulnerable

The idea of Ran getting closer to Takeomi to piss off Sanzu is funny (also - Takeomi sees right through him but let's him do anyway, mayyyyyybe because he's starved for affection even if fake) BUT Takeomi thinking that is what is going on meanwhile Ran takes some more weeks/months before going 'WHY DID NOBODY TELL ME THAT WAS SANZU'S LITTLE BROTHER' is, I have to admit, far more funnier

Also - no one knows about their relation, their keeping their situationship mostly hidden so no one knows why Ran is panicking that much to the reveal-

Mikey keeps an eye on Shinichiro (and Takeomi) and what they're doing with their gang (it's not explicitly stated but the entire underworld knows better than to mess with it. also, everyone picks up on the 'Sano' name + physical resemblance)

That being said, Akashi being Akashi, no one has any idea who Takeomi is to Sanzu

First time Ran sees Takeomi he thinks he's just a young thug that may need correction (partially because Takeomi's being a brat-)(also he stepped in Bonten-ish most important building) so he beats him up a bit as a warning - that is because what follows next is hilarious (to me) okay, picture: Ran bumping into Sanzu later on and Sanzu is speaking to that exact same bratty thug (uh, weird), bratty thug, with bandaids on his face, notices him and answers to Sanzu's (worried) scolding that he just fought some random guy and that his injuries aren't even that bad and Sanzu should 'see the other one'. Sanzu's not happy with that because he truly doesn't care just tell me who it was already meanwhile Ran stands there. with very few injuries compared to Takeomi. Not knowing who he is, but knowing it's someone Sanzu takes his time to talk to and not in his usual demeanor and also that kid most definitively just saved his ass by hiding he was the one to beat him up and clearly avoiding to say shit to Sanzu. He now has a favor toward that kid. fuck. (but at least he's saved from Sanzu's reaction, whatever that might be if he learns Ran's the culprit)

Mikey fully intends to take Shinichiro and his gang in if they refuse to leave delinquency - he's not letting him without his protection in this world. By such, it starts to get noticed that, uh, Takeomi is good at talking. Uh.

Fanfiction would preferably starts around that time (Takeomi reaching adulthood and making his negotiator-skills known)

Ran teaching Takeomi how to play pool. no need to elaborate.

Does Takeomi's scar stays.. ughhhh... what about Sanzu's.. UGHHHHHHH

Other stuffs I'm not thinking about

I didn't think about what would happen of Toman. ACTUALLY. OHHH SCRATCH EVERYTHING I SAID SURI, WE'RE MAKING TIME LEAPER SHINICHIRO TIME LEAPING BECAUSE HE WANTS TO SAVE BONTEN-ish MIKEY. AS IN, NO ORIGINAL TIMELINE. I MAY HAVE SOMETHING THERE. I DONT HECKING KNOW. I NEED TO SCREAM ABOUT IT THO, SO WE'LL FLESH OUT THAT IDEA EVEN IF IT NEVER GETS WRITTEN (little brother Shinichiro looking up to his older brother, little brother Shinichiro losing his older brother to the world cruelty, little brother Shinichiro who finds a way to change that, Sanzu who tags along, Mikey and Takeomi teaming up at the realization their brothers are plotting something)

[freya-rat-face]

Got subjected to it and reacted badly to someone accidentally offending me by coming off wrong

Which is the RSD

I would have said similar under similar circumstances, and I would have gotten defensive if anyone said anything to me about it.

Which is the autism

And I am so FUCKING ANGRY at the bullshit right now

Because the reason I'm sensitive like that is because I learned how many times other people don't actually tell someone they're doing something they don't like or were offensive. I learned to read literally everything remotely negative as a, 'you fucked that up', because people have made clear that when I or anyone else responds with any kind of negativity or the wrong kind of positivity (e.g. nodding and saying 'uh-huh'), it's a fuck-up. They complain to me about other people doing things that I do, and now I know that this Thing can be read badly

I'm context blind/deaf. I'm subtext illiterate. I can't pick up on the underlying shit. I do good to know it's there.

And I'm old, this is with practice and education on what's actually going on, why they are the way they are

But it doesn't really help because I can't work without that information that is literally so far beyond my understanding.

Like the thing the person did that offended was an attempt to be helpful, to direct me to other resources, but it came off as a 'go away'. They answered very shortly after I asked for help, and mentioned the fact that I could do it alone, and this combination of things made it feel bad.

I've done things like that, and I would not have recognized the context, I would not have realized i offended.

Worse, I, the offended party, didn't want to address it because if they did it on purpose, i would be picking a fight and i don't have the spoons for it; and so committed the same sin I get so mad about by failing to let them know it came off wrong.

Someone else did address it, and they got defensive, and I certainly would have, too. I ended up defending them, because I felt it so bad. Been there, done that.

Knowing it wasn't intentional was a lot better. I just assume it is and avoid that person most of the time.

Can only hope the lesson took

Cos I hated apologizing for shit like that for a long time, it felt like I was admitting a wrongdoing

You didn't do anything wrong, but you did mess up. You verbally elbowed someone on accident, it happens. Just take it with grace, say you're sorry, ask if they're okay (DO NOT ATTEMPT TO EXPLAIN YOURSELF FOR THE LOVE OF FUCK) and move on.

They honestly don't care why you did it. I hate this, I really do, but it's not important to the matter. This really is a stupid, irrational thing, but they don't want an explanation, they want a fucking apology.

(I say 'they' because I usually take explanations as apologies, unless your explanation makes it worse, but at that point it's just an argument.)

Like there are a lot of times where I legit Should Not Have Said That, but there's others that are completely beyond my control because they were offensive in a context of which i was completely ignorant

Like calling someone's clothes comfortable for a long time

Badly timed help or genuine suggestions that came out as condescending by making something difficult sound simple (especially when it is for me)

Lots of faux pas that just generally end me up with the adjective 'mean'

Fuck the entire fucking culture that turned compliments into insults by ways of politeness and passive aggressive bullshit, by the way

I've developed a phobia where no matter how well a social interaction went, i don't believe it, because waiting on feedback just gets you kicked out of parties

and then I did the same fucking thing, got touchy because of invisible forces of context and hid the negative response, even knowing the community is rife with the 'tism

The rules are so fucking squishy

And most people don't even know them, even as they follow them

And I did the same fucking thing

So I've learned that there's no fucking learning to do anything but apologize a lot and forgive yourself for it

Good luck, I guess.

[sunflowercider]

Possibly worse than "making up a guy to get mad at" is getting stuck in a ever increasing anger loop thinking about how you could have spoken better when it really mattered

i just gotta write this out to exorcise it from my brain this morning. Kinda personal and kinda icky so hiding it

I know my extended family isn't exactly a bastion of progressive politics (thankfully my parents were a little slow on some uptakes but generally pretty good) but the sensitive topics never really came up in the few times a year I would see them (christmas. a wedding or funeral). I live closer to them as an adult now. And I see them more often, like every 3-4 months. Generally family parties.

About two years ago, at one party, the topic of child beach safety came up since it was on the news. Okay, safe enough. I'd realized by that point that my family was definitely one of those "conservatives who think theyre very progressive" types (california conservative?), so I'd learned when to put up my shielding. "Beach safety," sure, yeah yeah, "adults these days not watching their kids anymore blah blah." Not sure thats true, but okay, whatever.

"You know, you gotta be careful, theres homeless people by that beach!"

Oh fuck.

I'm sure it's the same in many cities right now, but homelessness in all of SoCal is pretty high lately. I'd managed to wiggle out of potential conversations about it by flat out ignoring family when they scoffed and pointed out homeless people while driving, or by responding quietly by wondering if the person was doing okay in the sun/heat/cold. "Can you believe there's homeless people here now?" Yeah man, it's rough out there, isn't that hard for them? Use your real words and I'll use mine.

The news report came up again. There were some homeless people, gasp, using drugs. What drugs? Doesnt matter; what matters is what happens next.

"...and they found five of them OD'd on the corner!"

"Well, five less to worry about, thank goodness!"

Cue laugh track.

I am fucking frozen.

This cannot be real.

"How could you say something like that?"

It's the best I got. I am a very poor speaker unless it's a planned lecture, and I certainly had not planned to defend the dignity of five homeless people who had passed away today.

The family backpedals fast.

I cant clearly remember how they backpedaled tbh. I was in shock. Something awfully close to like "they deserve what they do to themselves" or something, and how I was too young (im nearly fucking 30 at this point???) to understand.

And it is at that exact moment I look around at the table and realize that one of my 15 year old cousins is sitting at the corner, arms crossed and curled up, looking directly at me.

Oh, fuck, I cannot let her think she's alone here. And fuck this, that was lightyears too far.

So I try to speak up.

I am very bad at it.

I try to explain homeless people are real people. They just can't get back up after a fall. An aunt has the fucking gall to say they could always ask a friend of family to crash on a couch. I try to explain to her that not every family is as fucking huge as ours, and even then maybe they can't talk to them for some reason. I'm waved off. Someone defends that there are homeless shelters they can go to. I try to explain that theyre often full and sometimes arent safe or accommodating. I get pressed for details and my brain shutters, not well-versed enough in the topic to pull real examples out of my hat.

It's a blur at this point, but I am both outnumbered and way too angry and upset to come up with much. It's a loss, clear and loud.

It's a wonder I didn't leave the party that day. I think I stuck to my cousins for most of it, or my very deaf grandma who literally couldn't hear any part of the conversation.

That party keeps fucking haunting me. As it should - I realized my family has a hard line on who they consider people. It sucks it sucks it sucks. But theyre my family, and damned if I'm going to let the adults have the only say when my cousins, all of which are younger than me, are in the damn room.

[trials-of-a-spirit-worker]

Hi, I happened to stumble upon your page and I have an inquiry.

So ever since I was a child I was VERY attracted to witchcraft even though I had no access to it. Like it was something unconscious, I live in Saudi Arabia and everyone is VERY RELIGIOUS to the point where even Harry Potter was banned before I could even watch it as a child (just emphasizing the fact that I had no way to know witchcraft) but somehow I knew what it was. In my specific case, it had to do with demons. I always found myself thinking about them in completely unrelated situations like thoughts would suddenly pop up in my head. I would also unconsciously try to summon one like some third party was willing me to do so and I just felt very obligated to at least, I was very young when this happened (I'm talking 4-6 years old). Later on, whenever I would wake up I would see a blurry gray silhouette of what seemed to be a man rising with me from bed, being outside when I opened the bathroom door waiting, felt like I was being watched in the shower, visited in my dreams, etc. When I grew older (13-15) it started to get REALLY weird. Like the thing would visit me in my dreams whatever the dream was and somehow I would wake up with my hand in my private??? Like I would wake up touching myself every. Time. It. Visited. Sometime last year I got a nightmare of said demon\figure chained in the corner of my room snarling at me and trying to get to me. Later on, I had a dream of being watched by owls, seagulls, and some other brown bird, I was aware in the dream that it was 3 a.m., my bed was moved from an angle and I could see human remains and trash under. Could you please help me piece together what all of this means? I still want to practice witchcraft but every time I try to I get super dizzy and I feel like I'm being watched. (I'm a solar witch and a 16-year-old female)

Hello anon!

When I was younger, I also felt the pull to witchcraft/spirit work. I think it just means we're a little more sensitive to the call. Anyone can be a witch, yes.

But there are signs that come to us that sometimes just shouldn't be ignored.

I hope you're being safe first of all. I don't know how restrictive your situation is and I do know some places in Saudi Arabia and other surrounding places can be less tolerant of witchcraft and non-accepted religions and practices. Much like parts of the states are the same way. As a closet witch myself, I sincerely hope you'll find a place one day when you're older to practice freely without fear.

Second, my first thought is some form of incubi because of the sexual touching but I don't want to jump the gun and misinform you. But harmful spirits do sometimes use sexual misconduct to weaken a person's resolve. Or...some spirits are just really weird like that. In either case, I'm so sorry this is happening to you.

If you can, find some jade for better dreaming. Moonstones, Obsidian and Amethyst are good protection too.

If you have a diffuser or any way to release essential oils, sage would be a good one to have on you. Peppermint, Sweet Orange, Tea Tree and Frankincense are great for better dreams and should hopefully repel that strange entity hounding you.

If you have incense, those would work wonderfully as well especially in any of those scents I mentioned above.

Because whatever is going on really does seem like torment on the entities side. You don't deserve that.

Pray to whoever you worship for guidance and protection from this twisted entity that's bothering you. If you don't have an deity who you follow, I recommend just looking to the universe to give you the wisdom and protection to deal with this being.

A small truck that anyone with any level of energy work should learn/work to master is warding yourself off. Again, anyone you worship or work with, ask them for their protection, envision a cloak, a light, a bubble—I've heard many forms of this shielding whatever works for you and comes naturally and cover yourself in it. Something that'll work to bring you peace. Even if the entity shatters it the first couple times, be persistent. Put it up again.

It'll show the entity you're not going to tolerate suffering from it any longer.

Stand strong, lift up your head, and keep hope. I truly hope this helps you even if it's just a little bit, and don't hesitate to come back of you need more help.

I'm sorry this took so long, I wasn't ignoring you. Life gets away from you sometimes...you know? But I'll do my best to help with what I can.

[submalevolentgrace]

I'm modifying my idea for one of my OCs (for a personal project) to involve her having an upper limb difference. The setting of this story is a dystopia where it's likely being born with limb difference could have gotten her killed, so what I'm considering right now is that she lost her hand in early childhood. Basically, she ran into a monster and almost got killed by it, which also involved losing her hand, but the focus of that incident plot-wise is the "almost dying" part and the "abusive mom yelled at her for not handling it better instead of comforting her" part. Being an amputee also isn't the center of her story--she refuses to get a prosthesis and the revolution she's part of is fighting against societal ableism, but her character arc is mostly about breaking free from her past and learning to be more honest with other people. Do you think that the backstory as I have it now is too "trauma porn-y" and I should make her born without the hand instead?

i don't have the temperament or politeness to be a sensitivity reader, so that's why i don't offer to do it.

your icon sticks in my head so i know you've read the way i've responded to various probing on this topic, how aggressively passionate i get on many topics, how critically i'll analyse people that choose to interact with me and how blunt i can be, and hopefully you've seen me recently point out how often i'm flooded with asks like this and that i usually ignore them. you're the unlucky first person to send an ask after that. the best i can offer is that i'll critique just what you've put here in good faith and do my best not to assume anything beyond that.

so.

would you rather be ignored, or be rudely and publicly told something you probably don't wanna hear?

reblog and let me know!

[roleplay-abiogenesis2]

[Sensitive] Let's Talk RP and Mental Illness

//Hello hello, Saru-mun here to post a lil disclaimer that I felt to be due on my blog for quite some time now.

Let me preface all this by saying that yours truly has past and present long-lived experiences with mental illness, as someone affected directly by it and even indirectly when co-existing with others affected by it. Nothing in this post comes from a place of ignorance, intolerance, or even indifference to it.

I've always been a reserved person when it comes to my personal mental health. Oversharing and "trauma-dumping" have put a stigma on being overly open about these things, and I for one loathe the idea of being labeled as the person "playing the victim card". That said, I'm happy to find that this personal choice of mine does not reflect in my writing and roleplay. I like to write on these topics and explore their intricate and deep thematics like most other people here.

With THAT said as well however, I am also someone who puts a priority on realism before all else.

We live in a very lucky time for mental health awareness. Psychology studies have made leaps and bounds and uncovered, identified and explained many aspects of mental illness that I still remember being completely misunderstood and unheard of when I was a child. I think it is great and am thankful for this progress.

This however is due to the world we live in and the many advancements research has made over the years. This is a factor that I am never unaware of and that I am unwilling to cheapen by pretending it's to be given for granted.

What does it mean exactly? It means that when writing in settings that do not match our present-day progress, I will keep that in mind and have my muses match the emotional intelligence and knowledge that I would expect to be average in the world and universe they live in.

You probably should not expect Cyno the desert-dweller with a degree in elemental studies to know much about things like autism, PTSD, identity disorders or depression. The world he belongs to simply does not reflect that degree of awareness towards these conditions and as such, characters that belong in it should not be expected to understand them like we do in real life.

What should you expect? Ignorance and the mistakes born from it. Expect him to think your muse with executive dysfunction is lazy. To point out smell and filth if they are not able to keep up with their hygiene. Expect him to be confused by things like panic attacks, or to not understand one's deep-rooted anxieties.

In fact, Cyno himself has some degree of mental health problems that he is completely unaware of. And I've made him this way on purpose, because I remember the way I behaved about my own mental illness when I lived in a time where it was poorly understood. I downplayed it to personal flaws of mine that I should overcome.

You should expect this from any of my muses who live in a universe that is not as advanced as our real lifetime. My Mystic Messenger characters for example are more likely to be aware of these issues compared to, say, my Japanese feudal era demon lord character.

Why have I decided to go this route? Because I think mental health is important, and so is its history. I do not like the idea of pretending that the problems surrounding it and our understanding of mental illness never existed. These are stories that truly happened, and I want my readers to remember this, because it is by its mistakes that humankind has learned to be better. I want the ignorance of my muses to be a lesson, and a warning.

With that out of the way, I am making this post because the last thing I want is to make you uncomfortable. If you think something like a negative or indifferent reaction to your muse's mental illness might be something too insensitive for you to handle, then please, please please refrain from bringing these topics to the table with my muses.

You can talk to me OOCly if you're unsure how my muses would respond to these topics as well. I don't like breaking character (or what I perceive to be in-character for my muse anyway), but I am open to discussion and compromise on the language used in my responses if it will help you be comfortable with my portrayal more. A solution can almost always be found.

This turned stupid long already, so I'll be back to draft mountain now. You be good and stay off my soda.

Saru-mun\\

[vvatchword]

I could be wrong but you’re autistic right? I am as well and the heat regulation thing can be part of that

I had no idea that was an autistic trait! Yeah! That's absolutely part of it! I've got several of the traits listed in that post and have always been sensitive to heat. I've come to realize that the sun's intensity and light also end up triggering like sixteen different sensory issues. I just didn't realize this was happening until maybe two years ago.

I experience extreme dissociation. I can leave my body like a motherfucker. Taking ketamine was just a step up from what I've done without problem for years. For years I thought my pain tolerance was just unreasonably high. No, I just hyperfocus and ignore it. If I remember back far enough, I remember not living this way until school started, which makes sense to me: i had to learn to endure uncomfortable situations of every kind, and being a chaotic gremlin backfired on me constantly, so I learned to hyperfocus really hard on schoolwork, which i liked, to the detriment of every other sensory experience. I have sat through eye-stinging smoke for idk how long before I realized I was in pain. I have been stung by the tarantula hawk and was merely mildly perturbed. On the milder side of things, i can't smell very well--I've never been able to that i can remember--until I started taking THC. Now I can smell better. And I hates it!!!

The minute I became aware of my constant dissociation, I started attempting to reconnect with my body, and this has ended up exacerbating every physical experience you can imagine. The summer--which before I merely disliked--has become unbearable to me in every conceivable way: too hot, too bright, too intense. The city is too loud. Textures are too textured. Clothes must be just so. And then there was the wild realization: am I really asexual or am I just ignoring cues?

So I'm having a great time rn long story short

I'd like to hear your experiences if only to figure out how I should be coping, besides holing up in the dark lol