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demonicsaintess · 2 years ago

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The Most Pointless Mob Psycho 100 S2ep3 Rant Ever

warning: there’s a bit of spoilers here

Hello hello it’s me again, Holy~

So I’ve been binging Mob Psycho 100, because everyone started suddenly talking about it, and being the nosey bitch that I am…. I needed to get to it. So, of course I did. I spent about an hour writing this. I wanted to get this right. Especially since I felt some if the parallels lined up with my personal life experiences. So, it’s time to cut the cake.

*note, stuff that can be casually skipped over, will be written in orange

Damn this episode was a doozy.

Season 2 Episode 3: One Danger After Another ~Degeneracy~

I love Reigan. I really, really fucking love Reigan. He cares for Mob and is honestly a good mentor to him, although he himself is shady. He is seen as the one who is emotionally shaping, and raising Mob. I have issues with the way Reigan has been going about it though; and I don’t feel like that’s an unfair accusation. Like, sure, during the first season, he goes from lightly manipulating Mob, to taking notice of the effect of the actions he is making Mob take. Now in the second season, it seems as though he has now acknowledged that whether he wanted to or not, Mob has come to take his words as law; and Reigan is now a father figure to him. Here is the growth path it seems to be going down in my opinion. Now, I’m just speculating, but this season’s going to be a huge awakening for Reigan, to the fact that he has probably been the unconscious catalyst for a considerable amount of emotional turmoil to Shigeo’s adolescence . It’s almost laughable how Dimple can see it before Reigan. Yes, it may be because of underhanded motives, but to be fair, isn’t Reigan also using underhanded tactics? On the other hand though, I also see Reigan starting to become more honest; even if he doesn’t stop scamming. (Come on, we all know Reigan is stupidly good at cons; we love a bad bitch okay? Girl boss??) But I don’t see this season going further than this aspect regarding Reigan.

Mob on the other hand, I believe he has learned something about himself, each time he has exploded.

So, a little backstory. Once upon a time there was a little girl back in the 90s, who was diagnosed in the early days of mental health awareness, with ADHD; and eventually ended up with a final diagnosis 20 years later, of bipolar and schizophrenia, Trust me when I say, it took YEARS for me stabilize, with medicine. It was hard, scary, and way too much to have to deal with through my adolescent years; and I had a good, caring support system. Okay, end of flashback (phew).

This season has eerily similar undertones to the struggles I had faced, okay, scratch that; it’s screaming in my face; the similarities are quaking, alright? The most ironic thing I can say about this is, it’s fucking puberty my guys! Right now Mob is what? 14/15? That’s a really sensitive age for kids. Not to mention, imagine having the unfortunate issue of WHEN you reach emotional overload, you black out, and destroy things. Many mental illnesses come with loss of memory to outbursts, and even black out rages or mental breaks. When I was a child, I’d get so emotionally stressed where I’d sort of “go to sleep,” and it’d end with me “coming to” with myself, or others hurt; sometimes both. Mob is essentially experiencing that.

Mob is dealing with his emotions getting bigger, as he’s starting to try to be PART of the world now. He’s still desperately trying to keep control in the way he was taught: bottle it up. He went from trying to deny himself it felt like. Almost as if he didn’t consider himself as… anything. Almost feeling unfortunately born, but not wishing to leave the loose support system he does have. Everything he has learned about being a good person, unfortunately came from Reigan. Let me make this clear, I’m not shitting on Reigan. I actually love him. THEREFORE, being honest, I have to also fault him. I will give him back his points though for the following reason:

I think, being at the age where I would have children, I feel Reigan’s rule of don’t fight humans, is the smartest option for Shigeo. Think about it; at the end of episode 3, what did he say? “If I were to ever use my power to eradicate a person, is there anyone who would be able to stop me?” That’s a pretty heavy thing to have to think of around 14 years old. Mob is struggling emotionally this season. I can already see him having a breakdown. I hate to just bluntly say this, but I just have a bad feeling on episode 3, that is just steadily growing more gnawing. I feel like Shigeo starting to voice his opinion, and slowly learning to make his own boundaries and realizing his own morals, is also becoming his “undoing” of sorts. Acknowledging and learning about your emotions, and how to healthily cope with them, is honestly probably the most irresponsible to think a 14 year old to manage perfectly. Therefore, requiring a 14 year old boy to deal with situations where he has to make permanent decisions by himself (think the family of ghosts and whether to exorcise them “for the customers.”), is asking for way too much. I for one, think its super fucked up that he has to even think for one second about something like this, over his FOURTEEN YEAR OLD LITTLE BOY FEELINGS. (Thanks a fucking lot REIGAN).

I have a lot of hope for Shigeo this season. Just like little reporter girl said, “Mob-kun needs to grow much, much more.”

Thanks for reading yet another review by

The Holy Villainess~

#mob psycho 100 #mob #mp100 shigeo #shigeo kageyama #anime review #anime #mp100 #mp100 reigen #mp100 dimple #mp100 s2 #mp100 mob #mp100 shigeo kageyama

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mediocre-eternity · 2 years ago

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When was the last time you visited Kyiv/Ukraine? Is it recognisable to you at all to where you grew up?

So many of you are asking me questions tonight! I suppose I do carry the torch of being the most interesting of my coven. What a chance to crack open the mind of The Vampire Armand. Who would miss such an opportunity?

And this certainly is an interesting question, but there’s a flaw. There’s a misunderstanding to how I exist now and how I existed as a human boy. To say that, I do not remember Kyiv. So, how Kyiv exists today, I have no comparison to. I do remember the cold, the snow, the Orthodoxy, as I told David about in my published book, but my existence as a human boy starts in Venice.

I recently wrote about my experiences with memory loss and how, at times, I seem to enter a phase where my memory is severely taxed and it’s much more difficult for me to stay out of my head (for example, when I have to communicate with mortals). The horrors of my childhood caused the single most catastrophic memory loss I have ever experienced. The sheer stress of what my mind and body endured erased almost entirely the memory of my origin. Even the Russian I speak currently is not the type of Slavic I spoke as a child. The first language I remember, again, was Venetian Italian. I think and naturally speak in Italian. It is what I consider my native tongue.

Oh, don’t take my corrections as annoyance. But, Andrei died somewhere on a caravan train amongst the pile of other commodified people. I cannot access him, and sometimes, it’s just as difficult to access Amadeo. But the much fonder memories keep Amadeo alive. Sometimes I think on how I’m extremely privileged, even, to have seen my parents after I was turned. It was like, the closing of a loop. Or something. And I suppose I do have my maker to thank for that. Though even now, that memory leaves me with a strange, grotesque emotion in my chest.

#the vampire armand #the vampire chronicles #tvc #tva #Anne rice #anon #asks

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saintescuderia · 9 months ago

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Things I Learned from Ricky Gervais’ ‘After Life.’

I was told I would cry from laughter — and from ugly emotional sobbing.

Ricky Gervais and I have a love-hate relationship.

One the one hand, he is one of the funniest comedians who haven’t diluted their craft for the sake of pleasing people. He makes jokes because he finds them funny. He is self-assured in his humour that nothing phases him — not even society’s politically correct tendencies — but it also means he just doesn’t give a shit. If you’re offended, that’s on you. There is no sensitivity here.

Which actually sums up his character, Tony, quite well.

We meet Tony who is struggling to make sense of life in the wake of his wife’s death. For him, he would’ve committed suicide had it not been for the fact that he needed to feed the dog. And that brings me to the first point.

#1 / Animals are sometimes (read: often) better.

I say this because one of the scenes that really got me was when Tony and his dog, a German Shepherd by the name of Brandy, visit the beach. Tony looks at the water and remembers a memory of his wife. Suddenly overwhelmed with the familiar desire to end it, he tries again. Wading into the water fully dressed, he keeps going in and in — until Brandy notices as starts desperately barking at him. Tony hears her and reluctantly comes out to be with his dog. Brandy might not have given him a reason to live— the show’s whole premise is that only you can give that to yourself — but she gave him a reason to not kill himself.

#2 You can grieve yourself.

This show was recommended to me in that, “if you’ve ever experienced loss, it’ll hit.” Now, I have never really lost anyone really close to me. All the funerals I’ve attended in my life had been some convoluted relation in the community in which I was there was an extension of my parents. I don’t know death. I don’t know loss. Not really.

But, the show did come at a time when life had done a complete overhaul with me. People had walked out, I had flipped out. Without warning, my life had completely changed. I was still processing everything that had happened which made me struggle at times to recognise the person in the mirror. I had a lot to grieve in that so many doors had closed — doors I though had remained open forever.

Tony’s navigation through his pain and suffering was something I could relate to all too well. He held so much anger within himself that lashing out was his way of coping. He punished others to create distance. The coping mechanism of pushing everyone as a form of self-punishment because he couldn’t save his wife; that he doesn’t want anyone else close anymore because they could disappear and cause him more grief to mourn.

That, or I’m just projecting.

#3 Support comes in many forms.

Admittedly, Tony was an asshole to to the people around him. Lenny, a co-worker who loves to eat, receives the blunt of many a food-related joke as Tony pokes fun of his size and appetitie. A new girl to the workplace, Sandy, asks Lenny if it bothers him. Lenny shrugs it off, completely indifferent.

“Nah, he’s just a mate.”

And you think, honey no, that guy’s being a dick to you. Tony isn’t his friend, he literally calls him a pig. One sequence has Tony holding onto the back of Lenny’s neck and talking about his neck fat.

Yet, at the end, it turns out that Lenny, the clueless and hungry Lenny, was actually right. During a tangent at the end of the show where Tony realises how grateful he is for the people in his life, he thanks Lenny for being his “human stress ball.”

Lenny didn’t do anything spectacular. He didn’t chase after Tony like his brother-in-law who would try to come up with ways to make Tony happy. Lenny just knew this was Tony’s was of coping and took it and let him have this as a cathartic outlet.

Which reminds me —

#4 Don’t be an asshole.

I kept waiting for the therapist’s asshole-ish ways to pay off and give Tony the answer he was seeking. That the tough, careless ‘love’ was actually love and there would be a turning point.

Spoilers: it never came.

In fact, the turning point came from Tony’s conversations with a lady he befriends at the cemetary. She had lost her husband and they would often sit together and talk. A kind, simple lady. Her name was Anne and she delivered one of the key lines from the show that stuck with me.

“I know you might not like living, but you make the world a better place.”

(Or something along those lines. I may be misremembering since I was sobbing throughout it all.)

Tony realises that punishing humanity only adds to the problem — Anne’s line of “they grow in numbers” about the assholes of the world is the plain truth — and that doesn’t work for him. Not anymore. The pain he felt actually eased when he did good things. And it’s easier to do good things if you just try to be a good person overall.

This train of thought led him to finally start to change his life. From cleaning up the dishes around his house to buying proper food to showing tokens of appreciation to the people around him. Tony sees that he’s not the only victim of life and that everyone has their own shit. Giving people the benefit of the doubt and trying to do good is much better for the soul than adding to the asshole tally of the world.

“A society grows great when old men plant trees, the shade of which they know they’ll never sit in.”

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pivotbitches · 1 year ago

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Earlier I was thinking about the ways that I’ve pushed people away and the reasoning behind that. I’m sure part of it is childhood stuff, but then I was thinking about what’s occurred with some exes. Specifically, I was thinking about Evan. So the nature of our relationship was very strained by his depression at the end, and eventually he committed suicide. Every time I think about him I think about the fact that he tried to call and talk to me and I feel guilty because what if that had been the difference.

Holy shit. Is that why I want to talk to KD? Because I’m afraid that if I don’t something will happen and I’ll feel guilty all over again?? Or is it because I do see him as a chance to do what I couldn’t with Trey and try to fix him? Jeez. Anyways…

But then I was thinking about Eric. I remember breaking up with him the first time (before Evan) and then he ended up saying he was going to kill himself. I was so concerned but at the same time it felt manipulative. I feel like maybe after that was when I started to avoid and make myself undesirable when I was done with a relationship.

After Eric and I broke up the first time, I started seeing Evan and I was very in love with him. I wanted to know everything about him, like everything he liked, and be perfect for him. I have so many favorite memories with him that I just don’t have with anyone else. He broke up with me though and it was devastating. I think it was worse when he started hanging out with other girls and it was like he left me bc I wasn’t empathetic enough maybe? Idk. I just remember that the girl in band was so cool and smoked weed and seemed experienced and I wasn’t, not really. I was pretending maybe, like everything I did wasn’t necessarily bc I wanted to for my own satisfaction but because I felt the need to be sexual and to please or something but none of it was actually desired by me.

But that break up really hurt bc I wasn’t good enough to take away Evan’s depression.

Jesus Christ I just realized I’ve felt how Trey felt. It makes me want to talk to him and tell him I understand, and thats just as scary. It makes him human, where I think previously I had him in a monster category.

After Evan, I got back together with Eric. I think we had started back dating a little before Evan died, and we had both been close to him, so it was comforting to have him. But I also felt like a fraud because Evan tried to call me and I ignored it. It felt like my fault that we were mourning the loss of a friend, the loss of someone I loved. But time passed. I stopped thinking about Evan all the time. I was still dating Eric.

Eventually, I just wasn’t enjoying our relationship. And I remember Eric and I walking through the upstairs of the gym and I wasn’t really there. I had already made the decision for him. I thought to myself, if I’m detached enough, unpleasant enough, or bitchy enough then he’ll break up with me, he won’t want me anymore.

Looking back I think that was depression, but hard to say bc i think i was happy otherwise. I think I didn’t want me anymore so I was trying to force that on him too maybe? Or maybe I just didn’t want the added stress of someone else’s heartbreak emotions. Especially after the time before when he threatened to kill himself, and then my next boyfriend actually had. Was I trying to protect him, or myself? I also don’t know if that was before or after I found out my family was going to move again.

After I moved I was so solitary. I honestly didn’t want anything to do with anyone except my parents. I didn’t want to make friends at school, or at least I didn’t want to have to try and I didn’t want to have to start over with all the small talk and details. I felt so different, but I also felt alone. Eventually, I was slightly forced to make friends because of a teacher. I had so much anxiety about that lunch and the ones that followed that first week. I didn’t even want to go I just felt like I had to and that they didn’t even want me there, they had to. It’s almost worse now, knowing how much I felt even more alone when I wasn’t invited to things. It makes me think that my anxiety was right, and that’s not something I ever want to be right.

But I also met TJ. TJ was probably my realest friend. We were best friends. We had so many classes together and we had a connection.

My realization just now was that everyone in my life does leave, or I’ve left. My sister left me. Evan died. Eric left when I wasn’t perfect, when I made myself slightly undesirable. I physically left my Texas friends but it feels like they put the distance there emotionally. My high school friends dropped me. TJ blocked me. My college friends dropped me. Trey cheated on me, I left him, and he dated the other girl. I left KD. My parents left me. Like I know it’s an exaggeration, but it’s also true.

Eventually, we tried dating a few times and it didn’t work out because i just wasn’t into him like that. And then there was the time that he needed to talk to me. I knew he was going to talk about killing himself. Maybe that wasn’t what he was going to say. I should ask. But, I told him no. I completely shut him down. And he tried to say it was important and I was so nervous and scared that I just said “nope, not doing it” and walked away or changed the subject. Thinking about this right after Evan is really hard, because how could I have possibly shut him down after ignoring Evan’s call.

Later, we went to college and I wanted to have sex with someone I cared about and who cared about me and I ruined my friendship with TJ. I honestly knew he wouldn’t be able to handle it bc he had feelings for me, but I went through with it anyways. How shitty. No fucking wonder he blocked me.

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foxymoxynoona · 2 years ago

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Okay so.. just finished chapter 8😀😀 technically I sent another ask a few days ago on chapter 7 but I’m pretty sure Tumblr deleted it so it’s a sign for me to shut the fuck up? Probably. It was me being outraged at hobi because of the kings of Leon thing. Still. Okay, anyway 🤪

“Hey Hobi, can you grab my hair?” Oooh I know you started the chapter like this on purpose👀👀 not cool giving me these kinds of heart attacks🥲

By the way, I just want to say that the most painful thing to read is not even the unrequited love aspect (which is not unrequited at all😀) but the fact that such a close friendship is experiencing so many lows. I had this friend once and we were very close but ended up fighting over some non existent drama and we never got closure cause we’re too prideful so that sucks🫠 we were not in love with each other like jk and Alex, although to cope with it when it bothers me I still say that ours would’ve been a great friends to enemies to lovers😫. But yeah I felt the pain when Alex tried not think about him and everywhere she turned there was something that reminded her of him. Don’t want to say that a friendship breakup hurts more that a relationship breakup but.. that’s kind of what I’m saying😎

“Ooh are you going to trash talk the boyfriend?”

No, don’t do that,” Jungkook insisted. “I don’t want to hear it.“ uuh no I want to hear it! Please go on😀

I have to say: do I think Alex not telling hobi about her actual plans was a right decision? No… but do I hold it against her? absolutely not. Lying is wrong but gaslight gatekeep girlboss. You’ll get no objections from me🥳

Okay so his friends are assholes, hobi wake up! I’m not rooting for you but get better friends we all deserve it.. like Alex with JK 👀👀👀

Please foxy the anxiety you gave me with that running late scene. I GOT STRESSED. I hate being late/people being late that scene made me NERVOUS.

And by the way I love how we got to him being in denial to her being in denial of her feelings progressively throughout the story.

Also the way he waited for her at the arcade… oh my heart swooned 😻 Alex 2.0, make your heart swoon too c’mon!!! And I KNOW that deep down they were comparing their goodbye to the arcade to their goodbye as bestest of friends or complicated tension/situation they are in but ONE MORE CHAPTER LEFT AND I’M HOPEFUL. sorry, hobi. Hope you’ll find someone who’s not in love with their best friend 😉 (watch come come back here to bite my hands off when chapter 9 comes out and I’ll suffer like a bitch because jk and Alex won’t be endgame🤡🤡)

🌸

I didn't get another ask from you :( :( :( nothing that I haven't answered yet. Did I answer one about Kings of Leon? I can't remember but definitely not in the last couple of days... wait didn't it say something like you were mad that he didn't know who they were?? I think I answered that .... god my memory is trash lately!

I appreciate you saying that about friendships though. I think friendship is general is such an underappreciated relationship in media, the expression of it always has to fit into a clean tidy little box, and the loss of it is rarely grieved the way a romantic relationship would be despite friendship being every bit as important in someone's life as a romantic relationship. I completely agree that them struggling with the end of their friendship would be really significant and emotional even without the underlying romantic feelings!

The chapter count is a lie, you ought to have guessed that. I've just started chapter 11 and I SWEAR this is the last chapter + the epilogue but I've said that since chapter 7 so I don't expect anyone to believe me anymore 😂 I'm never guessing chapter counts again

#🌸anon #asks #tmwc #tell me what changed

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gatheringbones · 2 years ago

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[“In my first book, a memoir of the eighteen years I was addicted to heroin and my inevitable decline through the dregs of society and eventually into crime, I wrote about a lot of very tough and painful times and events from my past. I’m not proud of a great portion of the memories that got me locked up. But in order to really write about them, I had to essentially relive them over again, and in doing so, I was plagued with a ton of remorse and guilt. The process of reexamining the past opened a mental floodgate, and the memories would suddenly appear one after another in Technicolor and Dolby sound, complete with all the anxiety, anger, resentments, and fear that the original events evoked. Some so vivid that I experienced panic attacks, gasping for air, my heart pounding. I would eventually learn from a psychiatrist at the rehab where I finally got clean that having these kinds of “waking dreams” was one of the symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder.

I was particularly haunted by a friend’s death back in 1994 in San Francisco. I had carried with me for years the idea that I could have somehow saved him if I hadn’t been using drugs, or at least had been present enough to notice he hadn’t been around. My friend’s health had not been good, he didn’t take care of himself, and like me, he used drugs. But the underlying real factor was my friend had died of a brain aneurysm due to a blood clot. And when I actually wrote this memory down, detailing all the facts, I was able to come to an understanding that there was nothing I could have done differently. I am not a doctor. My friend never confided in me how sick he actually was. And even more concretely, I don’t know if I was even in the building at the time of his death.

It wasn’t until I wrote the entire incident down on paper, examining the reality of what had actually happened, that I realized this was just the story I was telling myself. I don’t know why I was telling myself this story—possibly it was my way of coping with the loss of a friend. But really, that doesn’t matter. What is important is that after I did re-evaluate the actual truth, I came to a place of acceptance, and this incident no longer played in my mind’s repertoire of horrific memories.

Consequently, as I continued writing, I was able to revisit a majority of my difficult memories; only now I was able to look at them with a much different perspective. Before I had strong feelings about what had happened, but most of those feelings were either displaced or subject to unreal expectations and resentments—most of which I was placing on myself. Yet every time I actually wrote out a memory, I was able to get a better understanding of the event. A lot of times I was able to work my way through it and eventually put it to rest.”]

Patrick O’Neil, from On Nonfiction Memoir, from The Sentences That Create Us: Crafting A Writer’s Life In Prison, by PEN America and edited by Caits Meissner, 2022

#patrick o’neil #caits meissner #currently reading #brainspace

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stusbunker · 2 years ago

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Tattered: Mate or Fate

A Supernatural A/B/O Fan-fiction Mini-series

Featuring: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader, Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader

Word Count: ~3050

Warnings, etc: True mates, still in varying first person POVs, some dialogue taken from canon, emotional infidelity, no one is doing okay, ESPECIALLY SAM, Dean’s in denial

Series Masterlist

Mommy Dearest

Dean

I’ve gotten pretty damn good at being bait. And all things considered, I’m glad it was me that was able to get her hackles raised. But having something wearing my mom’s face lean in and gnaw on my neck— through my Omega’s mark— that was a manner of skeeze I haven’t experienced in a very long time.

Luckily Cas was there to clean me up. Stop me from becoming a Jefferson Starship— into what she’d changed those kids into.

Man, she really played us. Experimenting on fucking kids? Talk about a monster.

I still don’t know what I’m going to tell Y/N. I mean, the truth, or some sanitized version of it. Because I know she’s still there, we’re still tethered, but it’s like coming home without a wedding ring. You don’t just LOSE your mark on the way home from a hunt.

Sam keeps eyeing me and watching Bobby like I’m going to grow a second head. Or maybe he’s on Bobby’s side about Cas. Who the fuck knows. Between Eve biting it just to learn of Crowley’s second coming I’m feeling like a first class stooge. I can’t take one more thing.

Heads will roll.

Let It Bleed

Sam

Hospitals are always the worst part of the job. And it’s not even coming up with the stories to explain away whatever insane injuries got us there in the first place. It's the waiting.

Dean hasn’t left Lisa’s side.

His Omega is sitting in a motel room alone and he’s taking care of someone else.

My Omega is sitting in a motel room alone and I’m waiting on him to get home to her. I may actually kill him for putting her through this.

And he has the nerve to cry about wiping their memories, which is so overreaching of him I can’t even see straight.

He turns up the radio and gets back on the highway. I smell the guilt and the regret and the simmering loss rolling off him. I crack the window before I slam his face into the steering wheel. He did this to himself. Not the demons, obviously, but he chose Y/N over Lisa and Ben.

Dean doesn’t deserve to grieve for them.

He pulls into the parking lot of a dilapidated strip mall. Tells me to put in a food order at the Chinese place while he makes a beeline for the liquor store. I do it just to get out of the car and away from him. The smell of overused peanut oil is a welcome distraction as I step into line. I keep my head down, make my face neutral, and try not to panic any of the civilians.

Same shit different day.

The old lady behind the counter is a half second away from calling the cops, one hand on the phone as she takes my order. What’s worse is I don’t even blame her. She takes my name and phone number, tells me it will be twenty minutes. I wait outside.

I don’t go back to the car.

Until I absolutely have to.

The Man Who Knew Too Much

We find Professor Visyak bleeding out in an alley. There is something so wrong about seeing someone like that dying next to a dumpster. Purgatory native or not, she was Bobby’s friend. And we didn’t keep her safe.

Cas blindsides us with righteous disappointment.

The air still smells of ozone when he disappears again. Only to send me to my knees. My head explodes and I go blind. The last thing I remember is Dean calling my name.

Reader

Bobby starts another pot of coffee. I clear the dishes from the dinner they never ate. I leave them in the sink for something to do when they leave me, again. The stress is oozing off of all of us and making the air of the house thick and desperate.

Losing Cas feels inevitable now.

Losing each other is the anticipated second course.

I gather up some weapons for Bobby to bag. Anything that can help against Angels or Demons. Anything that might get them out of there in one piece. He keeps giving me hopeful glances and it’d be sweet if they weren’t full of pity.

My center of gravity pulls me to the basement, I pace instead. Staying above ground and away from the Alphas who own different pieces of me. Sam hasn’t moved since Dean and Bobby dragged him through the backdoor. Cas broke the wall that Death built to keep him sane. Like a light switch, he just went dark.

I feel him around the bend even though I know he’s on a cot under Dean’s nose. If only I keep moving, keep looking, I’ll find him eventually. Somewhere in the shadows, or the corner of my eye.

Maybe I’m the one who’s crazy now.

Or maybe that’s Dean bleeding into my thoughts. He’s so worried about Sam, I almost forget I am too. It’s overwhelming the sense of duty he has to Sam. Deeper than anything I’ve ever let myself feel, some cross of pack and pup.

Somehow he pulls himself away. The need to stop Cas, to save him or the world superseding all others.

They leave me with an address, tell me to bring Sam when he wakes up. Make sure I have my Beretta and leave Sam’s Taurus at his side. Rituals that we cling to, out of the comfort of habit, lacking even the illusion of safety.

I’ve never heard this place so quiet.

Minutes pass, I don’t let myself go into the basement. If I see Sam like that, I don’t know what I’ll do. Dean’s too far away for this nauseous concern to be his.

Sam breaks my internal stalemate with a single groan. He’s alive— awake. I get down the stairs and into the panic room, why did they leave him there instead of a bedroom?

He’s not fucking drying out.

My anger melts into my gut the second I scent him. Pure anguish floods my nose and I whine at his pain. That brings Sam closer to the surface, he huffs, head shaking as if he’s refusing whatever he’s seeing in his dreams. My massive Alpha reduced to a kid having a nightmare.

I crouch down at his side, careful not to touch his bare skin. He’s always such a furnace and I don’t want to put any more stress on his system—- or I’m too scared of what feeling him will do to me now. We haven’t been truly alone since…

He turns to face me, breathing deep through his nose, brow pinched. But something like relief comes over his features the longer he breathes. Like my presence alone makes whatever he’s experiencing bearable.

The Omega in me primps.

I shift onto my knees, still not touching Sam, but leaning against the cot for more balance. And wait.

I listen to the thrumming of his heart, the steady pull of air into his nose, my own movements. It could be hours, but it’s only been moments.

He hums. Then his eyes fly open, panic ripping through him as he shoves against me and sits. I fall, gracelessly as he comes to.

Somehow he manages not to knock over his gun. Fucking Winchesters.

“Sam?”

“Y/N?” He looks at me like he’s not sure if I’m real and it hurts more than it should. He looks so scared.

“It’s me, Sam. Are you alright?” I pull myself up onto the bed beside him.

He brushes the hair out of his face and sighs. “Not really. But I’ll make it.”

He gives me a sad smile and I nod, his eyes dark with unspoken horror. I grab his massive hand and pull it into my lap. He exhales and it sounds rockier than my self control.

“What are we doing, Y/N?” His voice is soft, but the fear is still there.

“We’re supposed to meet Dean and Bobby where Cas is setting up for the eclipse,” I explain without meeting his eyes.

“That’s not what I meant,” he adds, solemn.

I look at Sam, unable to hide the tears as they fall.“I don’t know anymore.”

He pulls his hand back and sits the rest of the way up. I let him. He tucks his gun in the back of his pants as he stands.

We leave to help stop Cas without another word.

Meet The New Boss

Dean

I guide Bobby in with the tow, he’s hauling in what’s left of my baby. Fucking demons. We get her cleared and settled, and I take it all in. The caved in roof, the busted glass, the whole shit show that is the engine. And my hands itch to get in there. To make her right.

Finally something I CAN do right.

Because Sammy is in the house with a scrambled brain and reliving who-knows-what while Cas—- Cas is throwing a god level tantrum.

She’s been quieter than usual. Watching us and just tending house, not that she likes to, but just for some use of her hands. Which, obviously I get. But it makes me edgy having her in the house with Sam, not saying she’s not safe—- just okay maybe she’s not safe.

Because, none of us are, not anymore.

Reader

Sam’s distress is stinking up the whole house, so I’ve been doing my damndest to keep it aired out. Let the summer breezes blow in. I remember running around the scrapyard as a kid, never needed to spend so much time inside then. Never wanted to.

I can’t leave him if I tried.

Dean’s got his head under Baby’s hood, with regular check ins, but I can tell he’s just as worried. Bobby just keeps giving us these appraising looks, waiting for one of us to break or scream.

I’m doing the last of the breakfast dishes when my Alpha wanders up behind me, hunched and exhausted, but freshly dressed. And waits in my blindspot.

“Hey,” Sam’s voice is soft, like he’s trying not to wake anyone.

I don’t mean to flinch, but his bandaged hand on my shoulder hits me with a deep sense of dred and I drop the scrub brush into the dishwater.

“Sorry,” Sam takes two steps back.

I bow against the edge of the sink and catch my breath, putting on my best appeasing smile. “It’s fine! You just startled me.”

Sam stands like he doesn’t know how to, like he’s sixteen and his arms are longer than they were the day before. I want to brush the hair out of his face and I must be staring because he stills, mouth pinched and heartbeat racing.

I can’t breathe when he gives me the puppy dog eyes.

I should look away, say something, clear the air. But he’s just looking at me like he’s lost and so incredibly vulnerable. The backdoor opens and Dean walks in and the moment’s gone and Sam’s lying through his teeth to his brother and I have to keep it together.

Hello, Cruel World

SAM

Lucifer will not shut up. No matter how many arguments I put against his claims, he still thinks he’s won.

So, I’m doing my best to ignore him. By the look on Dean’s face, it’s not my best work. He hauls me out of the backseat of the impala, and back inside Bobby’s house.

Cas is gone. His trenchcoat was all that we could find.

I need to be stronger than this. We have a whole new race of monsters to fight now. I sit down on the couch, just to catch my breath and before I know it I’m asleep. Or I think I’m asleep, because the house is quiet and I feel like I’m floating.

I know Lucifer’s still there, monkey on my back, whispering in my ear. But something else is drawing me in. Something soft and warm and impossibly safe. It feels like bedtime stories and my drool stuck face on the vinyl of the backseat of the impala. It’s sunshine and then I smell her and I know.

I just know.

I wade in, almost waking almost dreaming, never dipping too far into the nightmares. It’s the calmest I’ve felt since Cas broke the dam in my head. I don’t want to lose this. I don’t want to wake up, or let her know I know she’s here. She brushes my hair back and I hold in a sigh.

Her finger tips are soft, sure. They ghost over my cheek and pull out my collar, settling over my chest, fiddling with the buttons on my plaid shirt. Her palm is heavy over my heart, like she’s trying to mold me back together. If we stay here long enough, I can almost hope she could.

I breathe her in, deep and rising, my body is unable to resist the pull she has on every cell. I can smell Dean on her, just a passing hint of sweat, and that alone should stop me. But it doesn’t. I roll until my back is flat against the back of the couch, giving her space. I feel her perch on the very edge, closer but not close enough. I reach up and hug her hand against my chest. Eyes still closed, I silently beg that she lets me hold her, even if it’s only like this.

A gentle line is drawn between my eyebrows and I relax, smiling. She taps the tip of my nose and I can hear the giggle in her breath. I want to see that secret smile on her lips, but I’m so scared that if I open my eyes, it will be him again. I know it’s her.

But I can never be sure.

I keep my faith and breathe in her scent, saving us both from possibility.

Reader

The house is quiet at night, but it doesn’t mean it’s any easier to breathe. Dean fell asleep after he showered and barely kissed me goodnight. He’s mumbling through a bad dream already and my stomach is in knots.

Touching Sam while he slept earlier was not a good idea. But I can’t stop thinking about doing it again.

I roll over and stare at the wall, count the cracks in the paneling in the bedroom that used to only belong to me. I think about how I got here. Think about those sticky, dirty hours in the cabin without a care in the world except Sam pounding into me. Before we knew what was wrong with him. Before Dean staked his claim.

Before I realized I love them both.

I don’t cry. It’s my fault, I don’t deserve to cry. I shouldn’t have let any of this happen. But I do know that today was the first time Sam’s heart rate was below 100 since Cas broke him. And if my presence can ease some of his hurt, I need to at least try. For all of our sakes.

The bedroom shadows shift as I think about what I must do. What I should tell Dean. If Sam would even want me now. It turns into one of the longest nights of my life. And when the sun rises, I think I have the solution. But I’ve worn myself out and I finally fall into a hollowed out sleep.

DEAN

I lay there watching her snore in the yellow light pouring through the ancient curtains. She reeks of guilt and worry and my gut tells me it’s something big. But at the same time I can’t fathom what she could possibly have done to feel so guilty over.

She’s not pregnant, that much I can tell easily enough.

I sit up and fuck with my hair. Stretch out the ache in my back from bending over Baby every which way for the past week and a half. I decide to let her sleep. I really don’t want to start the day with whatever it is that crawled up her ass.

You know what they say about ignoring your problems.

She corners me in the painting shed after lunch.

“We need to do something about Sam,” she says, like she’s planning a hunt, quiet and curt and merciless.

My blood freezes and I turn on my heels. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?!”

She looks at me like I’m an idiot, and okay. But really? Coming for my brother out of left field like that. My shoulders hunch defensively and I grind my teeth.

“He’s getting worse, Dean.”

I look at her, really look at her and I see how much this is taking out of her to tell me. “He’s fine. Everything considered, he’s doing fucking fantastic.”

She steps closer, into my space and my hands find her hips. She wraps her hands around the collar of my coveralls and shakes me a little, just to lighten the mood. She’s staring at me now like the answers are written on the back wall of my skull.

What isn’t she telling me?

“What if I told you that I think I could help him?” Her eyes glaze over like she can no longer see me.

The memory of her sleeping scent floods my senses, I hesitate.

“I think part of the problem is that his body changed from when it had his soul. So when his soul was put back and then the walls put up, they couldn’t sync. He’s not fitting together right. And I know Hell was horrible. We both do. I just think I can help his soul settle into his body, memories or no.”

“What is it? Some sort of ritual?”

Her eyes dart to my neck and then she looks at me like she could cry. “You’re going to have to trust me.”

Every ounce of instinct is telling me this is a bad idea. But this is my Omega. She wouldn’t hurt Sam, not even if there was only a small chance of happening. She’d find a different way. I stare into her eyes and see the desperation and the guilt.

“You’re not gonna get yourselves hurt or anything are you?”

She smiles, wet and earnest. “No, babe. And if everything works out like I hope it does. We’re all gonna be better than ever.”

Tell me what you think?

Tagging: @idreamofdeanie @stoneyggirl2 @delightfullykrispypeach @dolphincliffs @flamencodiva @crashdevlin @dontshootmespence @thoughtslikeaminefield @rockhoochie @dawnie1988 @mrswhozeewhatsis @cosicas-cuquis @foxyjwls007 @tumbler-tidbits @defenderrosetyler @ericaprice2008 @wingedcatninja @akshi8278 @itmighthavebeenintentional @smi727

Read on: Chapter Six: Better to Beg Than Ask

#supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic #spn abo #tattered #alpha!dean x omega!reader #alpha!sam x omega!reader #truemates #love triangle #abo dynamics #a/b/o dynamics

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blue-mint-winter · 2 years ago

Text

House of the Dragon ep 10

News of unsurprising Viserys’ death and Aegon’s coronation cause Rhaenyra so much stress that she goes into early labour. I could probably say her suffering and refusing help from her servants was a metaphor for her mental condition, but I’m not sure that’s what the show wanted.

One thing is for sure - Rhaenyra’s decisions, as well as Daemon’s behaviour in this ep are clearly affected by the grief they’re both in. They both experienced great loss of Viserys and their stillborn baby and on top of that they have to deal with politics. They both have different ways of coping that puts them at odds with each other.

Is it just me, or on the Green side only Alicent was as badly affected by Viserys’ death? I can’t say the rest of their side of the family were shown grieving for him :(

Interesting that Daemon thinks that it was Alicent who poisoned Viserys, and not Otto or Maesters. He doesn’t know her at all.

Finally, Corlys returned, however I’m not sure what was the point of the debate about Velaryons joining Rhaenyra’s side when they accept her sons as their grandsons and agreed to betrothals with Laena’s daughters. I suppose it was a matter of pride and assurances. Or maybe just deciding if they should simply stay neutral to the succession fight. However, Rhaenyra’s side looks stronger because of the bigger dragon numbers and the future of Jace and Baela on the throne is a better offer than Greens‘.

Daemon threatening two Kingsguards with a dragon was completely unnecessary. Paranoia much?

He seems like a dragon - he feels threatened so he wants to strike those who threaten him and his family. Just like Arrax and Vhagar in the end fight. However, Rhaenyra is putting brakes on him and it frustrates him.

On the other hand, based on her comment when she was giving birth Rhaenyra’s thinking Daemon abandoned her to lash out on his own which isn’t exactly true as he was taking care of island’s defenses. But it’s true that he abandoned her emotionally. Their relationship hits a low here, but not all hope is lost. In this same episode we were shown Rhaenys and Corlys reuniting after years of estrangement also due to grief after losing both of their children.

Time to cry about poor sweet Lucerys. He looks out of his depth most of the time. The weight of expectations is too much. There’s a direct parallel between him and his mother. Despite him thinking she’s perfect and can do it all (aww), she is just as lost and only bluffing in her role as Queen. She’s just as scared of screwing it up as Lucerys is of being the Lord of Driftmark.

Otto has some balls to show his face on Dragonstone again (nice callback to the previous bridge standoff with him). The peace terms he brought seemed pretty good but this fight is more about principles and “who is right”. Rhaenyra wants to fulfill the expectation her father placed on her, so she can’t give up the throne. That would be betraying his trust and his memory.

The whole Storm’s End sequence was tense and highly dramatic. At first, it looked like Aemond was serious and wanted to hunt down Lucerys, but his horrified reaction to Vhagar killing Arrax and Lucerys clearly means that it wasn’t planned at all. Aemond simply enjoyed threatening and terrorizing the younger boy with his gigantic dragon like a bully that he is. However, dragons aren’t pets - they have their own minds and instincts. When they feel threatened, they strike to kill.

Obviously, no one would believe Aemond that Lucerys’ death wasn’t intentional. Also, it would look extremely bad for Targaryens to admit they don’t have full control over their dragons. People would riot.

Fun and games ended, Lucerys’ death is the third loss in a short amount of time and Rhaenyra can’t sue for peace anymore.

#house of the dragon #hotd #my thoughts

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thornedrose44 · 4 years ago

Note

Supercorp prompt-

Lena takes an art class to de-stress and Kara is the nude model. Awkward semi- naked flirting ensues.

(A/N: So, I put my own twist on this (hope that’s okay), I made Lena a teacher just because I liked the idea of Lena having to keep her lack of chill under control and be professional in front of a class funny - though this fic went down just a really light, fluffy route which I hadn’t expected when I started it.)

Read on AO3

It had been going well, the first term had passed with only a few missteps and one trip to the emergency room - though, the Dean had told her that Zach had yet to make it through a single class without some sort of accident and had been preemptively banned from taking Chemistry classes for fear of taking out an entire graduation class.

Lena had never expected to return to her alma mater as a lecturer but the stars had aligned at just the right time. The youngest Luthor had reached a stage in her career where she had finally proven her adoptive mother wrong about not finding success as an artist and had made enough money that she need never paint another picture in her life again. The lack of necessity and the return to a more Luthor-esque lifestyle - galas, fancy balls and paid talks - had subsequently impacted her inspiration. She needed a change. A return to her roots and some sort of stability without losing her ability to make a personal impact with her work.

Her mentor - J’onn - was stepping down from the art department and had recommended her as his replacement; National City University had jumped at the chance of the world renowned Lena Luthor taking up a teaching position there.

She was now a third of the way through the school year, settled comfortably into her new role, and absolutely loving it. Her spark was back, and she was enjoying being in one place surrounded by her old friends. She was reconnecting with skills and techniques she hadn’t touched in years whilst simultaneously giving advice and encouragement to students that reminded her of herself when Lillian had cut her off to force her into attending business school and abandoning her dreams. She was finally able to return the kindness J’onn had given her all those years ago to the next generation of artists.

It was the second term that Lena experienced her first set of real nerves.

Lena had an artistic weak spot, an achilles heel that she had been able to keep out of her signature artistic style but she would now be forced to confront.

Life drawing.

It had been her lowest scoring class by a mile and she had avoided the advanced elective classes like the plague. Lena knew practice made perfect but she’d never had enough interest to develop her skills. Her interest had always lied more in natural landscape beauty - J’onn had said her true inspiration lied with trying to recreate her childhood memories of Ireland: emerald rolling hills, rocky cliffs, dense forests ensconced by a mystical fog that lended her artwork a fantastical element that she was now known for.

The problem lied in Lena’s lack of interest in people.

She had never really seen the ‘art’ in them.

Kelly, Sam and Andrea had spent hours over evening drinks psycho-analysing just why that might be, their two favourite theories were Lena’s family (the loss of her mother and the general unpleasantness of the Luthors) or Lena’s truly terrible dating history (their favourite topic of conversation due to the sheer number of embarrassing stories it elicited).

Lena refused to acknowledge the accuracy of both theories.

It was therefore with a sense of dread that Lena prepared for the first Life Model Drawing class that Tuesday afternoon. The one small silver lining was that she didn’t need to arrange a model - she had vague memories of J’onn trying to entice volunteers and grumbling under his breath about some of the less than pleasant eager volunteers. J’onn had a list of regular volunteers that he had accrued over the years that were reliable and just liked to help out - most of them older with an appreciation for the arts and more time on their hands than they knew what to do with. The University admin team had organised everything and simply told her to expect a Kara Danvers at the studio some time before the class.

Lena had finished prepping the studio well in advance, reviewed the relevant techniques for most of the morning and even phoned J’onn for a much needed pep talk over lunch. She had just convinced herself that everything might be okay, that she just might be able to do this, when the most beautiful woman Lena had ever laid eyes on burst into the studio.

A toned body that glinted with a light sheen of sweat barely covered by a white v-neck tucked in at the front of a pair of dark jeans that merely brought all of Lena’s attention to the bronze belt buckle that locked away a thousand dirty thoughts. Glorious golden ringlet curls bounced up and down as the woman stumbled to a sudden stop as the most piercing blue eyes imaginable behind thick glasses locked with Lena’s green ones.

“Hi, I’m Kara!” The goddess announced, swallowing thickly and stumbling forward in her hefty black boots as she extended out a hand for Lena to take.

Lena only reached out due to years of Luthor training that had ingrained politeness into her muscle memory - her brain still not firing on all cylinders at the sight of the woman in front of her. Kara’s warm palm connected with Lena’s, long fingers curling gently yet firmly around the edge of her hand and sending arcs of lightning through Lena’s body and causing her breath to stutter.

“I hope you haven’t been waiting for me for too long.” Kara continued, a bright apologetic smile lighting up her entire face and grinding whatever gears were still turning Lena’s mind to a dead - permanent - halt. “I try to always get here early to help set-up but the interview I was conducting overran - I’m a journalist, by the way - and then my bike - motorbike that is -” Lena’s mind caught on the motorbike and turned it round over and over and over again, “didn’t start and… I’m rambling. Oh, golly! I mean heck, I mean sorry.” Kara huffed, cheeks filling with air before releasing into an adorable pout. “Sorry.”

It was then that Lena realised two things.

One, it was her turn to say something and there had now been at least ten prolonged seconds of silence as they stared into each other’s eyes.

And two, they were still holding hands because that’s what it was now, it most definitely could not be considered a handshake.

“Umm… hi…” Lena choked out whilst simultaneously jerking her hand back to her side, hoping the somewhat stifling heat of the studio would hide the red blush perfusing her cheeks. “Lena. I’m Lena, that is…”

“Hi.” Kara murmured, smiling soft and sweet at her causing Lena’s heart to flip and melt and dance and do a million impossible things all at once.

“Hi.” Lena repeated dumbly - so dumbly.

“I should…” Kara chuckled, hands miming grabbing the edge of her t-shirt and lifting it up, “You know?”

Oh, god the goddess is going to undress, Lena’s brain screamed in gay at herself.

“Yeah, definitely do that.” Lena encouraged with a flap of her hand towards the centre of the studio where a solitary illuminated stool awaited. “Do you need anything? Is the lighting okay? Stool… umm… sturdy?”

Kara grinned at her, blue eyes barely sparing a glance at the studio’s set-up, “Looks perfect.”

“Great.” Lena cheered, jerking her thumb over at her desk in the corner where she had prepped her teaching materials, “I’ll… uh… be over there.”

“And I’ll be right here.” Kara shot back with a cheeky wink as she walked over to the stool, a towel awaiting her to provide suitable covering until the class had settled, shucking her white shirt over her head and revealing back muscles that would star in Lena’s fantasies for the foreseeable future.

“Yep.” Lena popped, taking a deep breath and trying to work out if she should be murmuring a thank you to God or screaming a desperate why me.

***

The class had gone well - except for the long periods where her brain shutdown whenever she studied the play of shadows across Kara’s defined musculature. She managed to cover it quite well by making it seem like she was just assessing her students’ work closely, analysing their line work and shading rather than going through an extended gay crisis that eclipsed seeing boobs for the first time in college.

Kara, on the other hand, was a consummate professional, holding a steady pose throughout and utterly unfazed by the concentrated gazes on her - though, Lena could have sworn that she caught deep blue eyes tracking her movements round the half-circle every now and again.

“So, you’re experienced doing this?” Lena asked, once the last student had departed and Kara was finishing re-tying her sturdy boots back up.

“Taking my clothes off?” Kara chuckled, shooting the teacher an amused smirk, getting to her feet and strolling easily over to where Lena was examining the product of her class’ efforts.

Lena faltered, “I meant-”

“I’m just teasing.” Kara reassured, reaching out to squeeze Lena’s forearm in a half-apology that Lena could have sworn burnt Kara’s hand print into her skin, “I’ve done this for a while now. I did an interview with J’onn a few years ago and his model bailed at the last minute and I was here already and…” Kara shrugged casually like stepping in was the obvious thing to do, like kindness was the only option - which Lena didn’t doubt for a second was something Kara genuinely believed. “I like helping out where I can. And I just kept coming back…” Kara explained, clasping her hands behind her back as she took a tentative step closer to Lena, “I was never really sure why until-”

“Hey, babe, you ready to go?”

Lena’s head snapped round to see Andrea strolling through the doorway, eyes fixed on her phone utterly oblivious to the moment she had just trampled all over. Lena wasn’t sure whether Andrea was naturally such a good cockblock or if she practiced at it - regardless of either option Lena’s sexlife had vanished into thin air since she’d returned to living in the same city as Andrea. (Not that Lena thought that her and Kara were heading that way but Lena had been enjoying the hope of it at least).

“Andrea, you’re early for the first time in.... well, ever…” Lena snarked, rolling her eyes before glancing over to Kara, only to find the blonde had taken a large step away from her and her expression was far more neutral and guarded than it had been only moments before.

“Wait, we weren’t meeting at 4?” Andrea frowned, still not bothering to look up.

“Ah, so you’re not early, you’re over an hour late.” Lena remarked.

“God, you’re such a drama queen…” Andrea sighed, finally lifting her gaze from her phone, her eyes immediately alighting on Kara with undisguised interest. “And who is this?”

“Andrea, this is Kara the model for our life drawing classes.” Lena introduced taking a protective step in front of the blonde, an action that did not go unnoticed by the other two occupants in the room. “Kara, this is my supposed best friend who is regularly trying to lose that title.”

“Oh, best friend?” Kara repeated; the familiar brightness from before returning to her expression as she looked excitedly between the two friends.

“Yes.” Lena answered, smiling shyly at Kara and immediately forgetting Andrea’s existence, let alone presence in the room.

“That’s great.” Kara grinned, blushing a light pink a second later as her hands fidgeted with her keys, “I mean… ummm…. That you have a best friend. My sister is my best friend, though I have other friends. I just mean that… friends are cool.”

Lena laughed lightly at Kara’s ramble, leaning closer towards the blonde without realising until Andrea appeared at her shoulder looking far too pleased with herself.

“Kara,” Andrea greeted, holding out a hand for the blonde to shake (Lena was comforted to see their handshake was quick, almost professional in comparison to the lingering touch Kara and Lena had shared earlier). “The pleasure is all mine.” Andrea declared, winking surreptitiously at the teacher - Lena instantly dreaded the upcoming girl’s night.

“Nice to meet you.” Kara replied friendly and sincere, before smiling softly at Lena and muttering a hopeful, “I’ll see you next week?”

“I’ll be here.” Lena reassured, watching as Kara nodded farewell to Andrea and departed, waving on her way out.

“Well…” Andrea murmured mischievously.

“Don’t.” Lena said sharply, holding up a finger to deter whatever torment Andrea had brewing. “Not a word. Not a single word.”

“Ooookay.” Andrea lied.

***

“You okay?” Lena asked tentatively, watching as Kara sluggishly slung her bag over her shoulder the pep to her step nowhere near as present as it had been last week.

They hadn’t had a chance to talk before the class even though Kara arrived much earlier to help set-up - Lena had been helping a student struggling with deadlines and a sudden crisis of confidence which prevented them from interacting. Despite being occupied, Lena had seen the fatigue weighing heavily on the reporter, saw how her impeccable posture dropped and how her students added weary lines to her expression in their artwork.

“I think you fell asleep on that stool for ten minutes at some point.” Lena murmured, brow creasing in concern.

“Pfft… what?” Kara reassured with a light-hearted wave of her hand. “Impossible.”

Lena arched an unimpressed eyebrow, “You snore. Quite loudly.”

“Oh…” Kara pouted guiltily, rubbing at the back of her neck, “My sister is going through a rough patch and I stayed up late with her last night.”

Lena’s amusement drained away to be replaced with soft, supportive care, “Is she okay?”

“Yeah, she’s doing better.” Kara replied, blue eyes twinkling at Lena’s inquiry that had them both ducking their heads coyly and sharing furtive glances. “I should get going.” Kara coughed out, though she made no move to leave.

“Or…” Lena began hesitantly, heart fluttering in her chest, “we could go for coffee? You should probably have a coffee before driving,” Lena rationalised, nervously stepping back from the blatant romantic line she was toeing, “you know for safety…”

“For safety.” Kara repeated carefully, blue eyes glowing with warmth, “That sounds wonderful.”

***

It didn’t take them long at all to settle into a comfortable routine.

Kara came early to the life model classes, helping set-up the room as they talked about the students' progress and what Lena was going to make the focus of the class. During the class itself, Lena no longer needed to flit as regularly between her students, they had learned the basic techniques enough to practise for themselves, now only requiring light guidance which allowed Lena time to either do some marking or her own art. Kara posed perfectly throughout, though Lena was becoming more and more aware of Kara’s still gaze on her as the weeks passed by.

After class, it was now custom for them to grab a coffee and go for a long walk around the university campus as they talked about everything and nothing. They would have been building towards a strong friendship if it wasn’t for the lingering touches, blatant flirts, blushes and wandering gazes.

Lena wasn’t overly sure why they hadn’t crossed that line, made that final move, but she found she didn’t particularly mind the wait. She was convinced that they had both decided that the journey was making the destination all the more desirable.

It became abundantly apparent, though, that Kara thought differently if their conversation after the class midway through the term was anything to go by.

“So do you not like my body?” Kara asked, quick and fearful, eyes looking down at the sketch Lena had done during class of a vase of flowers in the corner rather than of the readily available model.

“What?” Lena muttered in disbelief looking up sharply from her desk to see Kara paling considerably having clearly not intended to ask the question that she had blurted out.

“I… uh…” Kara squeaked, mouth opening and closing rapidly, before lifting her bare wrist up with a jerky motion and whistling in exaggerated surprise, “Wow, look at the time. I’m late for… uh… this thing. Work thing. Interview! That’s a work thing.”

And just like that she was gone - Lena wouldn’t have been surprised if there was a Kara shaped hole in the studio wall with how fast she disappeared - leaving Lena with a sinking, twisty feeling in the pit of her stomach that told her she might have lost more than her regular coffee with Kara over that one interaction.

***

Lena had Kara’s phone number and they had taken to texting throughout the day; however, since Kara’s panicked question - which probably revealed some deep vulnerability in the blonde - there had been complete and total radio silence. No memes, no cute animal pics, no sweet check ins… Lena’s phone remained silent when it once vibrated with life.

Lena wanted to text or call Kara the second she had left the studio but Lena didn’t feel like this was a conversation they could have over text, so she waited impatiently for them to be face to face again, counting down the days until the next class.

Lena even took to repeatedly checking in with the admin office to confirm that Kara hadn’t pulled out of modelling; reaching the stage where Jess, the most senior admin in the team, had taken to emailing her every couple of hours to reassure her that Kara still hadn’t cancelled.

When Kara appeared, nervously stepping into the art room, fingers playing with the hem of her shirt, it was like Lena could finally breathe easy again. The fear and loss eeking away in an instant, giving Lena the necessary courage to stride forward and bare herself in a way that Kara had been doing every week without Lena fully realising.

“I don’t like drawing people.” Lena announced, shoving her hands into her pockets to resist the temptation to reach out to the other woman as the blonde blinked at her in surprise, listening intently. “It’s kind of a thing with me.” Lena winced, pushing down all the reasons for why that is. “When I draw something I… kind of let whatever it is into me, let it consume me and it… stays with me for a long time after that. It’s why I draw what I draw. I draw my home because it's a part of me already. Drawing someone means carrying them with me and… that’s scary for me.” Lena breathed, glancing at the blonde to see soft understanding in blue eyes. “I just wanted you to know it’s not you.”

Kara nodded, shuffling closer and dipping her head so that she could whisper into the still space between them, “Thank you.”

“Right,” Lena murmured, swallowing thickly before jerking a thumb over her shoulder, “I should-”

“Do you want to get dinner?” Kara inquired earnestly causing Lena to freeze in hopeful surprise. “After class, that is?”

“Um… Yes.” Lena replied, nodding her head eagerly.

“Awesome.” Kara grinned brightly.

***

Kara took her to a tucked away italian restaurant that was one of National City’s hidden gems. The food was outstanding and the company was even better.

It wasn’t a date, but it wasn’t just friends going out for dinner either.

Lena would call it a test-run but that would imply that Lena wasn't already one hundred percent certain that she wanted an actual date with Kara. It was more of a date-appetiser if Lena was going to call it anything, a taste to build interest before the real thing.

Once they had finished their food, Kara didn’t hesitate to interlace their fingers as they went for an evening stroll around a nearby park, both wishing to prolong their time together.

“Can I see your art?” Kara requested; they had been sitting on a bench in front of a lit-up fountain for the last twenty minutes or so in comfortable silence. Lena had expressed an interest in sketching the fountain and Kara hadn’t hesitated to find them a seat and encourage Lena’s desire without complaint, occupying herself with people-watching in the meantime.

“I’m pretty sure the images are all over the internet.” Lena replied drolly.

“Yeah, I know it’s just…” Lena’s pencil froze in it’s movements finally noticing how hard Kara was trying to act casual, “what you said about it being a part of you, I thought-”

“You want me to show it to you…” Lena inferred, setting her pencil down and closing her handy sketchbook in an instant.

“It’s stupid, I’ll-” Kara laughed awkwardly, shaking her head in an attempt to brush over the request like it wasn’t a big deal

“I don’t have many pieces here in National City,” Lena said thoughtfully, getting to her feet and holding out a hand for Kara, “but I have some works in progress that I can show you… if you want that is?”

“I would love that.” Kara beamed, jumping to her feet as Lena tugged her back towards her campus studio, already picking out her favourite pieces in her mind that she wanted to share with the blonde.

***

Lena and Kara’s ‘friendship’ continued to blossom into something neither could have anticipated that day Kara sprinted into the studio all those weeks ago. The weekly class they shared was now always followed by dinner, taking it in turns to share their favourite cuisines and restaurants. They had also grown beyond only seeing each other on their allotted class day, sharing lunches and movie nights and spontaneous coffees as they learned each other's schedule and needs.

Lena read all of Kara’s articles and spent many an evening asking countless questions about the background to each of them. Likewise, Kara would appear for coffee with one of Lena’s artworks saved in her phone, burning with curiosity about what had inspired it.

Time spent with Kara flew by and, before Lena knew it, it was the final class prior to spring break. Her last class with Kara until the next school year and Lena was finally ready.

She had finally figured it out.

Why she had waited.

Why she had yet to seize the numerous opportunities to transition her relationship with Kara into a romantic one.

It was because she knew.

She knew from the second that she had taken Kara’s hand in hers when they first met that this was it. That Kara was it.

And that was, and still is, terrifying.

When they had first met, Lena hadn’t been ready for Kara. Hadn’t been ready for everything that Kara represented and would come to mean. She had needed the time, the time to lower her guard, to trust and hope.

And now, she was ready and she knew exactly how to let Kara know.

The class came to an end with Lena giving her students a quick speech on how proud of their progress she was and wishing them a good spring break. Kara lingered behind as was now custom, helping Lena tidy up the area before they headed out together.

“Kara?” Lena called out nervously, sweaty palms rubbing against her black denim covered thighs as her heart beat thunderously in her chest. “I was wondering…” Lena began, clearing her throat as Kara stopped what she was doing to give Lena her undivided attention. “Can I… can I draw you?”

Kara’s brow instantly furrowed in confusion, “I thought-”

“Yeah…” Lena laughed shyly, staring into deep blue eyes, practically begging for Kara to understand what she was really saying. “Can I?” Lena repeated.

Kara pursed her lips thoughtfully as she studied Lena’s expression - it was then Lena realised that Kara understood exactly why they had been waiting. Kara wasn’t replying because she wanted to check that Lena was sure, was giving Lena a chance to delay, was saying - without really saying it - that she could wait longer.

Lena didn’t take the escape Kara offered, instead she lifted her head higher and arched an eyebrow at the blonde.

A thousand-watt smile of excitement took up residence on Kara’s face as she nodded eagerly, “Of course.”

“Clothes on.” Lena clarified - she had promised herself that the first time she truly studied Kara’s body it would be in a setting where touching would not break any professional standards.

***

Lena had Kara sit opposite her in her private studio, their knees pressed tightly against one another providing a warm point of contact to keep them grounded. Lena’s gaze flickered from her sketchpad to Kara’s features; occasionally, she would reach out to adjust a lock of golden hair so it caught the light. Kara, meanwhile, had an ever constant soft smile that didn’t diminish for the entirety of the session even as she was forced to rein in her boundless curiosity to stop herself from sneaking a peek at Lena’s sketch until it was ready to be revealed.

Lena only drew Kara’s head because, though, she had spent countless hours in the presence of Kara’s naked body over the course of the last few weeks - when Lena thought of Kara (really thought about her in the way that made her heart skip), it wasn’t her abs or her biceps that Lena pictured (though she did think about them regularly when she was in her bed alone at night).

It was Kara’s eyes that Lena thought about most.

How they were so bright and hopeful whilst simultaneously melancholic and lost.

There were whole galaxies in those blue eyes and Lena knew that she could spend the rest of her life drawing them and never get bored, nor get them exactly right.

“What do you think?” Lena asked, slowly turning her sketchbook round for Kara to see.

It wasn’t finished. It was mere line work that would require further detailing but it was a good start and she hoped Kara could see its potential like she did with everything else in the world - like she did with Lena.

“It’s…” Kara began, licking her lips as she pulled the sketchbook closer to her chest like it was something treasured and infinitely rare. “It's incredible.” Kara breathed, the sincerity of her words undeniable due to how they were accompanied by a watery film to her blue eyes.

“I like your body.” Lena whispered, shattering the companionable silence they had drifted into as Kara admired Lena’s artistry.

“W-w-what?” Kara stammered, head jerking up at the out-of-the-blue declaration.

Lena reached out for the sketchbook, lifting it out of Kara’s hand and placing it on the nearby table so that she could take Kara’s hands in hers.

“You asked if I liked your body a while ago,” Lena reminded the blonde, “and I just thought you should know that I do. I really, really do. I mean really.” Lena emphasised, glancing appreciatively down at Kara’s body prompting the blonde to blush a pleased pink. “But it's more than just that. It’s become more than that. Talking after class, getting coffee, going for dinner… it's the best part of my week. You’re the best part of my week.”

“Lena-” Kara began, her mouth suddenly snapping shut as her jaw clenched and her chin lifted in determination. Blue eyes studied Lena for a long moment and all Lena could do was hold her breath and wait.

Lena made Kara wait weeks, she could therefore wait the stretched seconds that Kara needed in return without complaint

Kara got confidently to her feet, tugging Lena up with her, squeezing their hands once before releasing her so that she could reach up to tenderly cup Lena’s face. “I’m going to kiss you now.” Kara declared, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Thank fu-” Lena sighed gratefully, cut off from offering up her thanks by Kara’s perfect lips sliding over hers.

#supercorp #supercorp fic #supercorp prompt

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redrobin-detective · 4 years ago

Text

Side Effects of ghost powers

Hey all! I’m writing a DP fic called Side Effects exploring the physical and later mental/emotional impact of Danny initially getting his ghost powers. As an ICU stepdown nurse for 3 years, I wanted to view Danny’s accident through a slightly more realistic, medical lens.

Note: I had to fudge a good amount because Danny really should have fucking died and there’s no getting around that.

I do recommend you read the fic first before reading this as there’s some spoilers. Or if you don’t care you can read on. So! The two factors we are looking at regarding the accident are: ecto-contamination secondary to electrocution.

Electrocution

I was forced to downplay a lot of the severe symptoms of electrocution because, again, a bad enough shock will kill someone. My hand-wavey explanation is simply that the portal didn’t activate at a deadly voltage so he got a good shock but not enough to be fatal. I guess.

Muscle weakness/spasms: intermittent muscle spasms are common from shocks, muscles being activated by electricity and reacting to the lingering impulses. Danny’s is transient but quite annoying for a time. But his muscles are gonna be weak and achy af for days if not weeks after from the massive contractions caused by the shock and the after effects. Sensory issues: lots of things can cause nerve damage, including electrocution so Danny is experiencing some pretty severe neuropathy primarily manifesting with numbness and tingling throughout his body. His entire skin and peripheral nervous system got fried so while its mostly numb it’s also super sensitive for a bit of time causing massive pain and discomfort from your body tingling like a thousand bee stings. It’s worst in the hours after the accident but is something that never quite really goes back to normal both from the electrocution and his ghost half taking over and generally dulling his sense of touch.

Hearing/Vision loss: Like skin/nerves, your sensory organs in your eyes and ears would be affected by such a severe and allover electric shock. Danny has some blurred and occasionally double vision from his eyes not properly receiving/understanding input. Hearing loss is common following electricity given how delicate the inner ear is but I just give Danny some nasty tinnitus (ear ringing) for a bit. This inner ear problem also massively throws off his balance when he’s trying to move post accident. These factors are exacerbated by the ecto-contamination and mostly fade in the days following the accident before going away as his superhuman healing kicks in.

Heart Arrhythmia: an irregular heartbeat caused by the electrical impulses that control basal heartrate not coordinating they they should for a variety of reasons, in this case, massive electric shock. Danny would be somewhat aware of it, its not exactly painful exactly but you can just feel that your heart isn’t beating right. Secondary side effects are dizziness, chest pain, fatigue and shortness of breath. This resolves almost entirely when Danny stabilizes

Cognitive issues: Danny got his brains a little scrambled in addition to his molecules being rearranged. The first third of the story Danny is very clearly NOT thinking straight and Tucker/Sam should not have left him alone. Shocks can cause things like irrational emotional behaviors from hormone release along with memory loss and depression. He constantly waxes and wanes in mood and opinions on what to do in the story and never comes to a true decision that, damn lucky for him, worked out on its own.

Ecto-Contamination

Alright so Danny got massively shocked, sucks right but people live through that all the time. Ecto-contamination is more tricky (not only cause its made up and I had to think about what symptoms it would theoretically produce) but because the effects are more life threatening. It’s also irreversible, once he was contaminated it was only something that could be survived not cured.

So I theorized that Danny got shocked by the accident and was slowly dying of ecto-contamination and was pretty much clinically dead for a brief moment there, the death was enough for the large quantity of ectoplasm in him to immediately coalesce into a ghost (Phantom). So Danny was mostly dead but not quite, I’ve coded and brought back enough people to know it can be reversed somewhat. Danny becomes Phantom but the sudden stable formation of the ectoplasm into what its supposed to be, a ghost, caused his body to stop fighting the ectoplasm as a foreign invader and become part of the self. His core finished forming in his chest and his body started back up again, his ghost safely nestled in his once again living body as he slowly comes to grips with his actual death experience.

Nausea/Vomiting: I likened the idea of ecto-contamination to radiation poisoning, something that is essentially the antithesis to life. One of the first symptoms of radiation is n/v which is also why it’s one of the first overt symptoms Danny has. He was heavily electrocuted/irradiated and his body wants to expunge it all. As for the ectoplasm/blood he vomits, that’s the next section.

Gastrointestinal (GI) Bleed: So I was a little mean here. When one vomits up blood (or in this case ectoplasm/blood mix) it has to come from somewhere and a lot of the times it’s a GI Bleed. These are nasty, they need to be either cauterized or surgically repaired not to mention replenishing the blood lost. Fanon says that ectoplasm is at least mildly corrosive to humans so it is here, as it’s bonding to him, it’s literally eating him very slowly from the inside out which is causing a great deal of his internal pain. It’s not enough to be immediately life threatening but would kill him eventually. He developed some nasty bleeding ulcers in his stomach which let in blood and ectoplasm which were expunged. Danny’s core formed overnight and began healing the damage it had previously been causing but Dan is still gonna be vomiting excess blood/ectoplasm not to mention having black, tarry stools for at least a few days afterwards.

Hypothermia/Tremors: Hypothermia is when the body hits 95F/35C which Danny is just above at the start of the chapter. Danny initially starts shaking really bad (rigors) but as his body temperature cools further his shaking slows and eventually stops, a sure sign that the body is rapidly losing the fight to hypothermia and will likely die soon without immediate intervention. This is caused not only by the ectoplasm but his ice core shakily starting to form inside of him. Once he fully turns half ghost his hypothermia doesn’t change but it just no longer negatively affects him (I say Danny hovers naturally around 96-95F/35-33C getting much colder as Phantom at baseline. His body still can be damaged by going too cold but that’s a whole other post.)

Incoherency/Hallucinations: I mentioned in the electrocution section that Danny is more than a little addled and the contamination didn’t help in that regard. Not only is he not thinking clearly but he’s also getting a little delirious and seeing things. Common hallucinations I see are: someone in the room watching you, things crawling on the walls, creeping shadows, you’re in the wrong place. I think its a solid 50/50 as far as Danny straight up hallucinating but also becoming more aware of natural ectoplasm that hangs around in the atmosphere. (And before anyone asks, yes Clockwork did come and visit, Danny just doesn’t remember)

Pain: Being electrocuted, irradiated, being dissolved slowly on the inside is enough to cause massive amounts of pain. Danny is 14, he doesn’t understand true pain and probably underestimated how much it would hurt. Once it got bad, it was almost paralyzing so it got to the point where even when he wanted to call for help, he couldn’t move or think past the horrible pain of his every molecule slowly dying and rearranging itself.

Weakness/Fatigue: I don’t really have anything much to add for this section that hasn’t been said in the others. Just the combination of all of the above meant Danny is so incredibly weak and fatigued, this will be problematic in the days and weeks following the accident as his body heals from the stress put on it. Poor boy was probably just getting past the worst of his symptoms by the time of the Lunch lady attack one month in.

Ghost instinct: Going off the medical rant for a minute to go into another aspect of the contamination present in the story, the idea of ectoplasm adding inherent ghostiness to Danny. Its common fanon that all ghosts (through ectoplasm) have their own unique code and language that is just omnipresent and instinctive. Such a massive, body altering dose of ectoplasm saw those things start to leech into Danny even before he became half ghost. The biggest is his fear of being seen, majority of ghosts are completely invisible and don’t want to be seen by the living. As Danny’s suffering and literally dying, he can’t bring himself to confess to his loved ones for very understandable reasons but also this ghostly instinct in the back of his head telling him to hide and get away. Other instincts are a strong attraction to the portal/Ghost Zone, lowkey being able to sense living people around him and a bit of an emotional dampener when Phantom.

#danny phantom #danny phantom meta #danny not only got his skinny ass electrocuted #but also the ghost equivalent of radiation poisoning #kid is lucky af he survived #this fic took so long to write bc!!! I kept adding in more symptoms and details #and I just do not have enough words to convey how horrible Danny would have felt at the height of his contamination #poor baby #he's a little better next chapter

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griancraft · 2 years ago

Note

A mutual here who wants to stay anon but uh how did you figure out you were a system? Because sometimes I am not sure if I may be or not or how to even broach that question with my therapist. No obligation to share if you're not comfortable though.

Okay so I’m so sorry this is messy it’s hard to articulate. I’m not satisfied with this at all actually but it’s fine it’s fine ill answer questions that lead off from this

I figured out I was a system very very incidentally. I have been experiencing what I now know were headmates on and off since I was 7. I won’t bring up what because I don’t feel comfortable sharing. I just remember them “taking the reigns” when I was stressed, upset, or otherwise needed help. As well as there being things I don’t remember now that I know happened. As in. Trauma.

At age 16 I went through a pretty heavy experience that fucked me up. I’m not even sure if I’m the same person in a literal sense as I was back then. After the trauma, I experienced a lot of memory loss and other little things. Heavy disssoiation as well. I believed I had a ghost following me around when things would go missing and move around. I remember one time I thanked the ghost, and it never happened again. See, the point of a system is that the host isn’t really supposed to know. So despite the fact I was 100% a system and gained alters before I found out I had no clue. At all. Partially because I am oblivious to all hell.

I found out because our ranboo fronted and was. Terrible at it. I love her a lot but she is terrible at masking.

We were watching GTWSs MCC and I started dissociating really bad, and got a pressure above my eye. Blah blah blah, it got really bad, and she co cofronted. We bled into each other and when I saw fanart we went “oh! Me!” And I panicked to say the least!!

Basically I was panicking and texted all my system friends and eventually she calmed me down and explained that yes we were a system and it was just her and I (a lie. At the time we had Dandelion and Tommy. She just wanted to protect them.) So. It wasn’t me coming to some grand conclusion after gathering proof for a while it was me bumping into our Ranboo fictive and leaving her stumbling headfirst into the curtain that was systemhood and ripping it down from the wall. It want the most fun experience to start! Tommy didn’t talk to me for months because I was an asshole about systems when we first formed him nearly a year prior to that point. Dandelion was standoffish and cruel. Ranboo was trying to keep it all together and make sure we didn’t fall and fail and die etc etc. now everyone functions nicely and we have a working dynamic between all of us but that took a lot of communication.

If you can figure it out in a nice, smooth way that’s awesome. I don’t know how to help with that :,)

It sounds very much like you are trying to peruse a diagnosis a little? I won’t fault you for that but please know there is nothing inherently wrong with self diagnosing. Just remember that symportms DO cross over and be willing to pivot.

Actual diagnosis is something I personally will never do. Not because I don’t want to but due to societal stigma and the chance it has to affect things in the future.

This is very very anecdotal and I encourage you to ask yourself but I was told by a previous therapist (a shitty one, but a therapist) that diagnosis of DID or psychosis will not allow you to medically transition. Please take this weigh a grain of salt as he was a. Outdated man.

As a final note. You don’t need to in order to use resources for systems!!! I will never get an official diagnosis because it will 100% affect my ability to get a job. we are pretty functional, so I see no need. I still use PK and simply plural, and talk to people about my experiences though!

Even if you are wrong, you used resources that helped you at the time. And there is nothing wrong with that.

#ask me system stuff #important

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stardust-kenobi · 4 years ago

Text

Calm Your Mind

Din Djarin x fem!reader

Summary: Your bond with Din continues to grow stronger, as do your intimate feelings for one another. You open up to him about being stressed, and he offers his assistance.

Warnings: fluff, light smut, fingering, Din being an angel and the king of consent

Word count: 2.3k

A/N: Ok so this is sort of a sequel to Stay but it can be read independently, which is why it’s named differently rather than as a part two. And just like that fic, the child isn’t with Din. It worked better for the plot I was writing. That remains the same in this fic as well. Side note: this is self indulgent

GIf is not mine

“Told you I’d win” you chuckled, throwing your cards flat in front of him.

He breathed out heavily with a subtle laugh trailing the end.

“You won because I’ve never played this before” Din attempted to justify his loss.

“Maybe. Or maybe I’m just really good at it” you teased.

“Probably a little of both” Din remarked.

You were both on your 4th card game of the evening, sat on the floor of the Crest’s cockpit so that Din could safely monitor the status of your trip. Unbeknownst to him, you stared at him, admiring his company, while he gathered his cards to start a new game.

A week had passed since you shared your first kiss together by the fire on Endor. You worried that things would be awkward. They were, at first, but it was your own fault for not knowing how to act with all of your built up romantic feelings for him. The issue of not being able to see him, though, thankfully didn’t create any barriers for you two.

That same night of your first intimate moment, Din asked if you would sleep in his bed with him. He claimed he felt bad that you were always shivering when you slept on the floor, but you know he needed your warmth and company during the night. It was so dark in his compartment that housed his small bed that he was able to comfortably sleep next to you while his helmet and armor were all removed considering you couldn’t see him. So now you sleep next to him every night. It’s cramped in his quarters but the comfort of his touch soothes you to bed every evening without fail.

To no surprise, you two couldn’t keep your lips off of each other. The access to his bare face in the darkness tempted you to no end. Overall, though, you were taking things slow with each other’s bodies. You’d not progressed any further than making out with him on nightly basis. His body provided a multitude of signals that he wanted more, some of those signals were more obvious than others, but you both understood that slower was better.

Through all of this, he also offered you a kindness that you’d never experienced before. He cared about you. He was protective of you. He never failed to make sure you were always feeling okay and that you were happy. Din was falling for you, too. That much was clear.

“Another round?” Din suggested.

“I’m feeling a little tired, actually” you announced, hinting that you were done playing.

“Okay. Get some rest” he looked back at you. It remained that you were only able to adore the reflection of the beskar that protected and covered his physical features. You stare for an obvious amount of time before he notices. Din observes the slight frown now present on your expression.

“Is everything ok?” He inquired with concern.

“Oh yeah, I’m okay. Really, I’m just tired” you admitted. That was the truth. You were tired. But you also had too much on your mind. Your past was haunting your memories. You hoped that sleeping would clear your thoughts.

“You seem stressed” he stated. How could he read you so well?

“Yeah...Just a lot on my mind” you confessed to him.

“Do you want to talk to me about it?” His tone was warm and worrisome.

“I know I haven’t been very open about my past, it’s just something I want to leave behind me. I used to live on my own...I was living life in constant danger” you started. Your eyes were glued to the floor. You were shy when discussing your life, specifically that part of it.

“You’re safe with me, y/n” he reminded you. “I’ll never let anyone or anything hurt you, cyar’ika. I promise”

A small bundle of tears formed in your eyes. You believed him, which made it more emotional for you. Memories of your cold, harsh past was absent now. All your attention turned to the warmth you felt for him inside your heart. He sees your sorrow building and pushes himself from where he sat to sit next to you.

“That means so much to me, Din” you looked up at him.

“You mean so much to me” he responded certainly.

His gloved thumb stopped the tear from trailing your cheek. Din was getting better at expressing his feelings, and you’d like to think you helped him achieve that.

“I don’t even know how to respond to someone saying something that nice to me”

“You don’t have to say a word, y/n. I just needed you to hear it. I needed you to know”

“Thank you” you said softly while leaning against his shoulder.

“No...thank you, y/n” he said, grateful for your presence.

“I haven’t always known how to express myself...or my...feelings I guess” he began “but somehow, with you, it feels easier”

“You say everything that you need to say” you consoled him.

“Are you happy?” He inquired suddenly

“I’m happy with you, yes. I just wish I could calm my mind” you breathed out in frustration.

“You really should go lie down, get some sleep” he suggested, wanting you to be able to relax. “That might help”

“Okay” you agreed. Din rose to his feet and turned to lift you onto yours as well. You smiled sweetly as his gestures and migrated out of the cockpit.

“I’ll be there shortly, need to adjust some things on the ship first” He said, turning toward the ships controls, assumedly to set it to autopilot for the night. His attention snapped to you behind him once more to see you smiling back at him.

You changed your clothing. You remained only in a tank top and some shorts. As you crawled into the bed, you closed the door, waiting on Din to join you soon. You knew he had to remove his armor before entering and you wanted to close yourself off from accidentally seeing him helmetless.

As you laid there, you wondered if you had the time to masturbate. Your tension from your loaded stress and racing thoughts could likely be somewhat deflated if you could relieve yourself in that way. You feared being too forward by asking Din to help you, so you wanted to do it quickly on your own.

In the process of making the decision, Din knocked twice onto the door, meaning he was going to open the door and to shut your eyes.

You hear the latch close as the weight of his body joined next to you. When you opened your eyes, It returned to complete darkness as your mind is beginning to calm itself with his close presence. You couldn’t wait to feel his body against yours. As you turned over, you feel the bare skin of his chest, a new experience for you. Normally, he keeps his undershirt and pants on when he sleeps at night.

“It’s a little warm in here. Is it okay that I’m like this?” He asked. You never got over how lovely his pure voice was when he was without his helmet and so close to you.

You took in the feeling of his unexpectedly soft skin on his torso and firmness of his abdomen against you. Your fingers travelled from his neck to his stomach, admiring the way he felt. The way he really felt.

“This is more than okay to me” you said, a satisfied tone in your voice.

“Okay, sweetheart”

Your heart melted at this new name for you. You shyly giggled.

He responded by pressing his lips against your forehead delicately before bringing them down to your mouth and pushing his kiss deep into you. You savored his scent and his taste while you could.

“Goodnight” he whispered.

“Goodnight”

You tossed subtly back and forth, and in the small space, it was apparent to Din. You couldn’t fall asleep, not with your current state of mind.

“Y/n are you alright?” He worriedly asked when your restlessness persisted.

“I can’t sleep” you frustratingly stated.

“What can I do to help?” He inquired.

Here’s your chance, y/n...

“Well you could....” you started, unable to finish your sentence.

“I could what?” He awaited your request.

“Um, usually when I’ve got a lot on my mind I’ll...y’know...” you continued hesitantly

“What do you mean?...oh!” He realized what you meant after it processed with him.

“You don’t have to do that though, just forget it” you spit out, not wanting him to pleasure you if he didn’t want to.

“I...um, I’d like that, actually”

The way he said it you could just tell there was a giant smirk plastered onto his expression.

“Really?” You rhetorically asked, shocked at his response.

“I want to help you feel better...and feel...good” he struggled to find the words. Your heart began to beat faster, this was the first time he’d touch you, really touch you.

“Is that okay?” He requested your consent.

“Yes” you breathed softly.

“If you want me to stop just tell me”

“Okay”

“I’m gonna get on top of you okay?” He walked you through his actions because of the darkness inside his quarters.

You laid flat on your back and he placed one knee between your partially opened legs and the other knee to the left of your hip.

You heart fluttered and the butterflies inside your stomach were so excited that they tried to fly away from you. You were nervous, but you were ready for him to have his hands on you, and in you.

His lips crashed into yours again. He pressed them into you deeply and your mouths danced together in sync. It grew more intense while his hand wandered your body gently, his bare hand. His skins against yours. His fingers curled under the hem of your shorts and tugged lightly. You lifted your hips, allowing him the ability to remove them. As you shimmy them off at your ankles, the warmth of his hand slowly travelled up your thigh.

The kiss was removed from your mouth and relocated to your neck. Something barely resembling a moan was released from your mouth at the feeling of him exploring you. He smiled against your skin, continuing to place delicate pecks down to your collarbone.

His finds his way to your slit, barely accessible to him with the narrow opening you provided with your legs.

“This still okay?” He wanted to reconfirm with you before he went any further.

“Yes, please” you begged, so aroused already that you could barely stand it. You opened your legs slightly wider.

“You’re so soft” he whispered as he trailed his fingers up your slit, finding your aching clit and applying slightly pressure.

“Mmm” you moaned softly

He took it slow, responding your voice and body language as you rolled your hips up into him. He laid 3 fingers flat against your clit and rotated them slowly.

“Does that feel good, cyar’ika?”

“Yes, Din” you breathed.

He rubbed with more pressure, adding to your pleasure as he continued to focus on your sensitive parts. You whimpered at his touch while he hovered above you, listening to your sounds and focusing on making you feel good.

You didn’t think he had much experience in this area but he was proving to be a quick learner.

You were dripping wet now and needed to be filled. He must’ve read your mind because as soon as you felt your own wetness pooling between your legs, his fingers arrived at your entrance.

“Shit” you cried as he pushed two fingers inside of you. Your walls were tight around him while he pumped his digits slowly.

“That’s it” he encouraged you. “tell me how good it feels”

“It feels so good, Din” you moaned to him. His lips pressed firm against yours again, unexpectedly. You slipped your tongue between his lips and he gladly reciprocated the action. You continued to moan into his mouth in reaction to his fingers pumping faster.

Subtle, precious noises came form within him too. He was turned on by pleasuring you that it too brought himself pleasure.

He was consistent with his motions inside of you, making it easier for you to reach your orgasm quicker. His fingers curled as they retracted, hitting a deep sweet spot against your walls.

“You like that? Huh? You gonna cum baby?” He seductively asked after pulling away from your lips, his mouth close to your ear.

“Yes, I’m so close” you breathed out hard to catch your breath.

“Cum around my fingers, cyar’ika. C’mon” he coaxed you closer to your climax. His voice was no doubt the sexiest thing about him, you could cum to the sound of his voice alone. His words words were filled with an alluring tone, something you really hadn’t heard from him before.

“Fuck, f-fuck yes, I’m gonna cum, Din” you whined with your climax arriving gradually.

“Yeah, there you go, cum for me”

On his command, your stomach tightened. The orgasm formed and washed over your body so gracefully.

“Yes, Din, fuck!” You cried his name before rolling your eyes into the back of your head, seeing stars, overwhelmed with the pleasure that flowed through your body. Your hips rolled up into his body still hovered above you and your back arched in response to the sensational feeling radiating through you.

Din slid his arm under your arched back and held you close to him. He focused intensely on riding you through your high. He showed how deeply he cared about your body and making you feel good.

“Oh my god” you whispered through your heavy breathing, realizing as you came down that it was one of the most intense climaxes you’ve ever had.

“You sound so beautiful” he spoke softly, removing his fingers from you gently.

You giggled and wrapped your hand around his neck, pulling him in for another kiss. You pulled at the top of his pants, showing him you wanted to return the favor. He stopped you.

“This was about you. We’ll worry about me another time" he gestured. Unknown to him, you smiled at how polite he was.

“Are you sure?”

“Let’s just sleep now, okay?” He kissed your forehead delicately and returned himself next to you. You feel his arms wrap around your body, and his hand pulled your head onto his chest, so that you could rest peacefully with a clear mind.

IDK WHY I FEEL LIKE THIS SUCKS BUT I AM POSTING IT ANYWAYS OK BYE :)

#din djarin #mandalorian #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din x reader #din djarin fluff #din djarin smut #mandalorian smut #my work #mandalorian fluff #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x you #mandalorian x y/n #mandalorian x you

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boethiah · 3 years ago

Note

(DE question) I’m uncomfortable to say that Harry losing his memory is “better” for him — amnesia is traumatizing, the game says that often, and on average memory loss doesn’t get credited as serious trauma. I don’t believe the game glorifies this; there’s lots of critique and considerations and this clearly haunts Harry.

Yet, Harry does become a different character after he loses his memories. His past is fixed — but depending on your choices in the game, you do have a fresh start with who Harry would become. Life, Death, and Life Again. Do you agonize over that as much as I do? It’s hard to see Harry before the events of Disco Elysium, meta-narrative because it’s a Game and you’re stuck to the game’s script instead of experiencing it. The information that is clear to us is awful: Harry took away a culprit’s ability to walk, the whole woman incident, he’s been described as emotionally manipulative and destructive by people closest to him, etc.

I see Harry as a villain bc there’s just a lot of points that paints him as one. Being a cop in general, the game’s (subconscious) driving to get the player to loot people’s properties, and it’s more apparent when Kim says things like “The Jamrock Shuffle” (pointing out Precinct 41’s tendency to raid). I don’t know where I’m going with this, but there’s just a lot to dissect here. I enjoy DE and this is one of the things I love picking at

(Harry amnesia anon again) to clarify I don’t think the game considers Harry anything but bad either, there’s occasions where the RCM is criticized. The whole suspect situation is bleak too — you’re not giving the closure Revachol would need, as a cop. There’s just a bunch of things to think about though! The whole allowing Harry to improve as the player committing to helping him, but also restricted to supporting very precarious conditions that teeters on allowing awful people to run away without reprimand.

i don't think the game glosses over how traumatic harry's amnesia is-- trauma is an overt theme in the game. there's a fantastic kotaku article that makes the comparison of the various "skills" you interact with throughout the game and the ways that trauma fractures your identity. authority, electrochemistry, physical instrument, pain threshold-- these are all just various ways of responding to the constant fight-or-flight state PTSD puts you into.

i'm a firm subscriber to the theory that harry attempted suicide during the bender that induced his amnesia. and on a personal note, DE does a better job than any media i've ever seen of the fucked up, confusing, lonely experience of trying to put your life back together after surviving a suicide attempt. it's something i'm dealing with right now and it sucks. you repress like hell while your body reels from the trauma of a near-death experience. you have to somehow handle all the same stresses of life that pushed you over the edge in the first place, you have to figure out how to live again when you don’t really even want to live. i don't think that harry's amnesia is "better" for him-- but then again, what would be better? if he'd succeeded in killing himself? he is, in fact, a terrible person, so would it be "better" if he died?

and i think that's what makes DE so compelling-- it's impossible to make a choice that is "right" or "good". on my first playthru i tried to help everyone and fix everything, and it ended with dozens dead and kim getting shot. it's frustrating, it's depressing, and it's absolutely accurate to how things work in real life. games feed us an idea that we single-handedly have the power to help everyone and fix everything, and DE turns that on its head. in the final confrontation with jean, you can try to tell him about all the good you've done, and none of it really matters

as you said, one cop can't give revachol what it needs, because the problems that revachol faces are systemic. you, as a player, can't really give harry the help he needs either, because his problems started long before we woke up on that hotel room floor. the power of an individual is so small. there's no happy conclusion where everything is fixed. you can't heal martinaise and you can't heal yourself; all you can do is try

#disco elysium #suicide tw #how can a game this bleak be so hopeful. its amazing lmao

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cake-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Drift (Part One)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Story Warnings: Age Gap (not huge because Reader’s in her early 20s but it’s very present), slight DD/lg undertones (no D/s dynamics), Borderline Personality Disorder (Reader), Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (Bucky), Fluff, Slow Burn, Violence, Angst, Eventual 18+

Exerpt: It does feel kind of nice, having him look after you like this – having a more experienced agent take care of you. If you weren’t so completely fucked up right now, you’d be mortified. It’s your first mission, for one, and for two, you barely know him. Hell, you still call him Mr. Barnes, but here he is, saying honey and sweetheart to make you feel a little better.

A/N: my hand slipped 💀

You’re fresh. Green. Not yet a ‘real’ woman, but no longer a girl; somewhere in that topsy-turvy place in between where you’re still unsure of yourself and your purpose in life. You haven’t yet had the success that comes along in your twenties because you’ve been too wrapped up in your studies, too wrapped up in academic achievements to focus on other things.

And because of that, you haven’t been exposed to real failure. Not really. Not yet.

A new recruit, straight out of the Academy. Top marks in all of your classes. Excellent in theory, untested in practice. Training only. It makes sense that you’re a prime candidate to poach for the compound, but you’re still so young.

Too young. Innocent. Incorruptible.

At first, anyway. It doesn’t last long.

Your first mission breaks you in – shatters your wrist and your confidence when you get a taste of real failure. It’s nothing like a bad grade on a test, nothing like the embarrassment of getting too drunk in public, but tangible, acrid, dark. The taste burns acidic on your tongue, a bitter contrast to those sweet childhood dreams you’ve been chasing since you were a little girl.

Cotton candy justice.

Now you’re in limbo, drifting away with the chilly spring breeze. The stars shine brightly overhead, and you stare up at them, dazed and confused and no longer sure of your place in the world.

There’s the Southern Cross. How pretty. How unfamiliar.

What country are you in again?

Bucky swears low and rough over comms, but you hear his voice sound from a few yards away, too. You don’t bother to turn your head because he’s already at your side, kneeling down beside you, snapping his fingers in front of your sight line. “Come on. Hey. Look at me.”

Unfocused. Unresponsive.

The moon’s full tonight and so, so bright. You just can’t look away.

“Shit,” he swears again, a little louder this time. “Agent down. Conscious but unresponsive.” A brief pause as he checks for a pulse on the dead body at your feet. “She already took out our target.”

“Looks like the new girl’s got some skills,” comes Sam’s wry joke crackling in your earpiece. “Headed your way with evac.”

You want to laugh, but all you can focus on is the coppery tang of blood in your nostrils. It’s not yours. You shot the target of this mission at point blank, but not before he snapped your wrist like a twig trying to wrestle your handgun from you. Not before two accidental discharges very nearly cut through your abdomen. Not before he slammed you to the ground – slammed the back of your head into the pavement.

The memory makes you shiver. Or maybe it’s the breeze.

Bucky’s hand comes to rest on the side of your face, then, to offer some semblance of warmth, and your eyelids flutter shut. He feels good. He feels warm.

“Hurry up,” Bucky orders, but he sounds a little more distant, now. “She’s in rough shape.”

Sam says something else on comms, and you don’t quite understand the words anymore. They sound blurry, almost like you’re underwater.

You’re drifting along, drifting away—

Until Bucky jars you awake with a startling pat to your cheek.

“Hey.” Sharp words draw you back into the present, but they hold none of the bite he uses when addressing Sam. “I need you to stay awake for me.”

A groan bubbles forth from your lips when you somehow manage to pry your eyelids open again. It’s probably the hardest thing you’ve ever done. Your entire body is begging for you to sleep, to rest, to never wake up again.

“Oh, sweetheart, I know,” Bucky murmurs, voice soft with sympathy, smoothing his thumb over your cheekbone. “I know you’re tired. Does anything hurt?”

You mumble something indecipherable; it’s meant to be a ‘no,’ but that’s not how it comes out. Pupils dilate further over half-lidded eyes as you stare up into sudden blackness.

What happened to the stars? What happened to the moon?

With a grunt, you try to move— try to push yourself up in a panic.

Something’s wrong. What happened to the sky?

A whimper escapes your throat when you put pressure on your broken wrist, but Bucky’s quick to put a stop to any unnecessary movements.

“You’re okay,” he soothes, easing you back down onto the ground and the cold, coarse gravel digs uncomfortably into your back. “You’re doing great. Just stay still, okay?”

“I can’t—” Things are starting to feel a little less blurry, now. “The stars—”

A gasp for air. A stuttered breath.

Panic.

“Breathe,” Bucky reminds you, but when your breathing only goes shallower, he adds gently, “Here. With me.”

His deep breath prompts your own, and after a couple of seconds, he exhales. You can’t help but follow suit, because his presence just commands you to listen. Gentle authority. Another breath and you follow along again, and again, until you’re not hyperventilating anymore.

You don’t know how long it takes, but it’s like magic.

Only when you’re sufficiently calmed down does he try for an answer. “What about the stars?”

You’d almost forgotten.

So you blink your eyes open again in search of the night sky, but everything’s still dark.

Panic starts to set in again, and in a fit of desperation, you reach your hand out for something, anything tangible to grasp onto. It’s the one with unshattered bones and unshattered hope, extending towards the sky like you can just turn the lights back on with a switch on the wall.

You can’t. It hurts.

Another breath. In. Out.

It’s not so calming this time.

Bucky takes that same hand into his and brings it to his chest, where you can feel his steady heartbeat under your palm. It’s soothing. It’s grounding.

It’s not enough.

“I can’t see,” you finally manage in a delicate rasp. “I can’t see anything.”

Bucky’s grip tightens just slightly, and then he’s on comms again. “Damn it, Wilson, still waiting on that evac—”

“Am I— Am I dying?” you ask quietly, and you hear the sound of your own voice in your ear echo through Bucky’s open mic. You don’t sound like yourself at all, but fragile, scared, broken. Like a child. Like a little girl, and that’s exactly how you feel. A sob finally escapes. “I’m— I’m scared, Mr. Barnes—”

“You’re gonna be just fine,” he reassures you, gently, leaning forward to cup your cheek with his free hand. “You’ve got a concussion. Can you remember your training?”

Think back to the Academy.

Thinking makes your head hurt, though, and you wince.

Vision loss is a symptom. Memory loss. Drowsiness. Headache.

You let out another whimper, then, as the splitting pain finally makes an appearance; it spreads like wildfire from the back of your head through the rest of your skull, a searing headache that makes your wrist feel like nothing in comparison. Even the memory stings.

Comms crackles to life again – Sam’s just a couple minutes out, now. “Keep her comfortable,” he instructs. No jokes this time.

As if you could be comfortable—

“Screw you,” you groan in agony, but Bucky’s words echo back: You’re gonna be just fine.

“Let me have a look, okay?”

Bucky’s voice is still so soothing, almost like a velvet blanket lulling you to sleep, and you can’t help but make a sound in the affirmative. He’ll take care of you. It hurts, but you’re not alone.

That’s when he releases you to gently palpate your scalp. It hurts to move, and your arm goes limp without his support; your fingers quickly ball in the fabric of his shirt to keep your hand where it belongs. And then they tighten further, when he locates the very obvious goose egg at the back of your skull.

“There it is,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, but he follows it with, “Don’t worry. We’ll get you out of here soon.”

“But it hurts—”

“I know.” He slowly starts to stroke your hair, meant to distract, to comfort, and it’s effective. “The adrenaline’s worn off, honey. It’s gonna hurt.”

It does feel nice, having him look after you like this – having a more experienced agent take care of you. If you weren’t so completely fucked up right now, you’d be mortified. It’s your first mission, for one, and for two, you barely know him. Hell, you still call him Mr. Barnes, and here he is, saying honey and sweetheart to make you feel a little better.

You can’t deny that it’s working when you find yourself leaning into his touch. It still hurts, but this is... tolerable. It might even be nice.

Just a little.

“I bet you say that to all the girls,” you mumble.

He stills for a moment, but at your insistent tug on his shirt, he continues to stroke your hair – and you sigh.

“Oh... That feels nice.”

It’s a good distraction from the awful pain, too.

“Must not be hurting too bad anymore if you’re making jokes,” he comments after a beat, but he doesn’t stop again. Instead, the next little while passes in near-silence – a pained whine here, a comforting, “shh,” there, until your evac finally arrives.

“What the hell, man,” Sam says in annoyance as he straps you down to a board. “’Rough shape’ my ass. She looks like she got hit by a train.”

“I can still hear you,” you chide, “and I think I look pretty good.”

Another joke, because they both know you can’t see.

Sam snorts. “That’s a good sense of humour, new girl. Don’t lose it.”

The straps stop coming, then, and you tense up in alarm when you don’t know what’s happening – at least until Bucky speaks softly into your ear, “You’re gonna have to let me go now, sweetheart.”

It’s whisper-soft – secretive, almost – and you realize, then, that you’re still holding onto his shirt. You’re too young, too green, so much that you’re holding onto him like a lifeline.

That’s when the mortification sets in.

Your grip immediately goes slack, and the heat rushing to your face spurs on an even worse headache as the two of them load you onto the Quinjet. The only thing that keeps you awake this time is the stupid banter between them – but knowing Bucky is there is what makes you feel like everything’s going to be alright.

Part Two

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes

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